Legal Preaching

“John 1:29: ‘Behold the Lamb of God,
who takes away the sins of the world.’
John saw in Bethany
who Moses heard on Sinai.”
From Full of Eyes.

We are led to think that there are some points on which all our hearts and consciences need to be more earnestly impressed, and these points we believe to be connected with the requirements and denunciations of the law of God. 

But, there is a dread of legal preaching. If, by this phrase be meant, the preaching which fosters the hope of salvation because of our obedience to the law, such preaching is most solemnly proscribed in Scripture, for it is destructive of the very elements of the gospel. We are persuaded, however, that men would never venture on such preaching, if they understood the law of God; neither did others understand it, could they endure to listen to such preaching. The best antidote to these delusions, then, is an exposition of the law, in all the breadths and lengths of its requirements. 

But, if by legal preaching is meant, the faithful and fervid enforcement of these commands on every man's conscience, as the standard by which he is to walk now, and to be judged hereafter, whence, we demand, the dread of such a style of preaching? Surely not from an enlightened regard to the honour of God; we know nothing of that honour, but as we study and obey his law. Surely, not from, an enlightened attachment to the gospel; we do not understand the gospel, but as it enlarges our conceptions of the divine law, and constrains us to fulfil it. If the gospel had not been intended to exalt the character of the law in our esteem, to enhance its authority, and, by relieving the conscience from the guilt of having broken it, to influence the heart to a steady observance of its precepts, the whole genius of the gospel must have been the reverse of what it is. In proportion as the law is explained, and really understood, God is honoured; the conscience is enlightened; the gospel is valued; the necessity of holiness is acknowledged; the grief of penitence is awakened; the corruption of the heart is felt; the atonement of the Saviour is embraced; the influence of the Spirit is implored; the heart is purified; the soul is saved. These are the objects for which we preach; and, with a view to these, in reliance on that blessing, without which our efforts must be useless, we purpose, with special minuteness and fidelity, to illustrate and enforce, in some following discourses, the laws of God. They will be found to meet all the subtleties of the heart, and to affect all the relations we sustain, whether towards God, as our Creator and Governor, or towards each other, in the various connexions and dependencies of the present state. They will derive illustration from the pages of history, and from passing events; will be enforced by all the motives that can touch the conscience, influence the affections, or persuade the will; and will have a distinct reference to the disclosures of the last day, and the decisions of eternity.

~ William Hendry Stowell, The Ten Commandments Illustrated and Enforced on Christian Principles (1825), Introductory Lecture, pages 4-5.

Edwards’ Wheels of Time

Jonathan Edwards' view of the first chapter of the book of Ezekiel is, in my view, one of the most fascinating sections written by the New England divine. Independently of the worth and accuracy of Edwards' unusual exegesis (which is still greatly more plausible than the ones of those who torture the text to insert aliens into it!), his interpretation of this chapter reveals an intriguing side of Edwards' comprehensively cosmic view of all things as being from God, through God, and to God. The following are some extracts from Jonathan Edwards, Notes on Scripture (WJE Online Vol. 15), pages 373-379, entry 389.

Divine providence is most aptly represented by the revolution or course of these wheels. Things in their series and course in providence, they do as it were go round like a wheel in its motion on the earth. That which goes round like a wheel goes from a certain point or direction, till it gradually returns to it again. So is the course of things in providence.

Edwards applies this omni-comprehensive metaphysical principle to the natural world.

God's providence over the world consists partly in his governing the natural world according to the course and laws of nature. This consists wholly as it were in the revolution of wheels. So the annual changes that appear in the natural world are as it were by the revolution of a wheel, or the course of the sun through that great circle, the ecliption,I.e. the ecliptic. or the ring of that great wheel, the zodiac. And so the monthly changes are by the revolution of another lesser wheel within that greater annual wheel, which, being a lesser wheel, must go round oftener to make the same progress. Ezekiel's vision was of wheels within wheels, of lesser wheels within greater, which all went round as though running upon several parallel planes, each touching the circumference of its respective wheel, and all making the same progress, keeping pace one with another; and therefore the lesser wheels must go round so much oftener, according as their circumference was less. So again, the diurnal changes in the natural world are by the revolution of a wheel still within the monthly wheel, and going round about thirty times in one revolution of the other.  

So 'tis with the motion of the air in the winds; it goes and returns according to its circuits. And so it is with the motion of the water in the tides, and in their course out of the sea, and into the clouds, springs and rivers, and into the sea again. So it is with the circulation of the blood in a man's body, and the bodies of other animals. So it is with the life of man; it is like the revolution of a wheel. He is from the earth, and gradually rises, and then gradually falls, and returns to the earth again. Dust we are, and unto dust we return [Genesis 3:19]. We come naked out of our mother's womb, and naked must we go and return as we came, as it were into our mother's womb. The dust returns to earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it. So 'tis with the world of mankind; it is, the whole of it, like a wheel. It as it were sinks, and goes down to the earth in one generation, and rises in another, as 'tis with a wheel; at the same time that one side is falling to the earth, another part of the wheel is rising from the earth.

The same is true, of course, for the rational and moral elements of God's creation, that is, men and angels.

So it is in the course of things in God's providence over the intelligent and moral world; all is the motion of wheels. They go round and come to the same again; and the whole series of divine providence, from the beginning to the end, is nothing else but the revolution of certain wheels, greater and lesser, the lesser being contained within the greater. What comes to pass in the natural world is, in this respect, typical of what comes to pass in the moral and intelligent world, and seems to be so spoken of by the wise man in that forementioned place in Ecclesiastes. The words that follow next, after those that were mentioned respecting the natural world, do respect the intelligent world. Ecclesiastes 1:9–10, "The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done, is that which shall be done. And there is no new thing under the sun," etc. 

Things in their series and course in providence do as it were return to the same point or place whence they began, as in the turning of a wheel; but yet not so, but that a further end is obtained than was at first, or the same end is obtained in a much further degree. So that in the general there is a progress towards a certain final issue of things, and every revolution brings nearer to that issue, as 'tis in the motion of a wheel upon the earth, as in the motion of the wheels of a chariot, and not like the motion of a wheel by its axis, for if so, its motion would be in vain. 

The ultimate end of all these cosmic revolutions is the unfolding of God's redemptive plan to the manifestation of his glory.

The entire series of events in the course of things through the age of the visible universe may fitly be represented by one great wheel, exceeding high and terrible, performing one great revolution. In the beginning of this revolution, all things come from God, and are formed out of a chaos; and in the end, all things shall return into a chaos again, and shall return to God, so that he that is the Alpha will be the Omega. This great wheel contains a lesser wheel, that performs two revolutions while that performs one. The first begins at the beginning of the world, and ends at the coming of Christ, and at the ending of the Old Testament dispensation, which is often represented as the end of the world in Scripture. The first revolution began with the creation of the world; so the second revolution began with the creation of new heavens and a new earth.

Over against this background, Edwards expounds at length what, according to him, the wheels of Ezekiel 1 represent. I will quote here only a section of his explanation. 

The whole series of things through the age of the world may be represented as a wheel of various rings, one within another and less than another, each one going round but once, the lesser ones finishing their revolution soonest, and each beginning at the creation of the old heavens and earth, which in some respects had different beginnings, one when Adam was created, another in Noah's time, the settling of the world after the building of Babel, and another at the establishment of the Jewish state. And the revolution of each wheel ends in an end of the world, and a day of judgment, and a creation of new heavens and a new earth. The least wheel finishes its revolution at the coming of Christ, and the destruction of Jerusalem, and overthrow of the heathen empire that followed, when the world in a sense came to an end and there was a day of judgment, which began at the creation of the Jewish state in the time of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Moses, and Joshua, and the total apostasy of the Gentile world to heathenism. The next wheel, which is larger, began its revolution at Noah's coming out of the ark, and the building of Babel, and dispersing of nations, and settling the world from thence, which is as it were another beginning of the world, and ends at the destruction of Antichrist, or the spiritual Babylon, and Satan's visible kingdom on earth, which began in the building of Babel, and the commencing of the glorious times of the church. This is another end of the world, and day of judgment, and building of the new heavens and new earth. The third and greatest wheel begins its revolution at the creation, and finishes at Christ's second coming to judge the world and destroy heaven and earth, in a literal sense. 

Every wheel in every revolution begins and proceeds from God, and returns to God; as in Ezekiel's vision, God is represented as appearing above the wheels, so that to him they continually returned. God remarkably appears both in the beginning and ending of each of these wheels that have been mentioned, especially in those that respect the state of the church of God. As to human [things], such as human kingdoms and empires, they rise from the earth, and return to the ground again; but spiritual things begin their revolution from God on high, and thither they return again. 

The changes that are in the world with respect to the profession of the truth, and rise and fall of heresies, is very much like the motion of wheels; they rise and fall, and rise and fall again. 

Those wheels in this vision are represented as God's chariot wheels. The world is the chariot of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, in which he makes his progress to that glory, that glorious marriage with his spouse, that eternal feast, that everlasting kingdom of rest, and love, and joy, which the Father hath designed him. 

This chariot is drawn on those wheels by the four animals, which denote God's power, wisdom, justice, and mercy; and all proceed on calves' feet, because the great work of providence, that is as it were the sum of all providences, is that work of mercy, the work of redemption.

Edwards explains further (this time from entry 391, in Edwards, Notes on Scripture, 384-386).

What Ezekiel here saw was designed to represent God's chariot, in which God rode, and those wheels are the wheels of his chariot. And God, who sat in his throne above the firmament, over those wheels and cherubim, is represented as in the seat in which he rides, and makes progress with the wheels and cherubim. God came to Ezekiel to speak to him, and give him his mission on this chariot, and is so represented in the first chapter.

Then in the same entry, Edwards offers the following intriguing corollary.

Corol. Hence I would argue, that the affairs of heaven have doubtless great respect to the affairs of this lower world and God's providence here, and that the church in heaven, in the progress it makes in its state of glory and blessedness, keeps pace with the church on earth, that the glory of both is advanced together. Those great dispensations of providence, by which glorious things are brought to pass for the church on earth, are accompanied with like advances made at the same time in the church in heaven; and also that the affairs of the church in heaven have some way or other a dependence on God's providence towards his church on earth, and that their progress is dependent on the progress of things in God's providence towards his church here. For heaven and earth are both framed together. 'Tis the same chariot; one part has relation to another, and is connected with another, and is all moved together. The motion of one part depends on the motion of the other, The upper part moves on the wheels of the lower part, for heaven is the room and seat of the chariot that is above the firmament, that moves on the wheels that are under the firmament, and that go upon the earth. When those wheels are moved by the cherubim, then the upper part moves; when they stop, that stops; and wherever the wheels go, that goes. 'Tis on these wheels that Christ, the King of heaven, in his throne in heaven, makes progress to the final issue of all things. 'Tis on the wheels of his providence that move on earth that he, on his throne in heaven, makes progress towards the ultimate end of the creation of both heaven and earth, and the ultimate end of all the affairs of both. For this is the end of the journey of the whole chariot, both wheels and throne, for both are moving towards the same journey's end; and the motion of all is by the wheels on earth. And if so, doubtless 'tis on those wheels that all the inhabitants of heaven, both saints and angels, are carried towards their ultimate end, for all are Christ's family; they are either his servants and attendants in the affair of redemption, which is the grand movement of the wheels, and are the ministers that draw the wheels, or are his members: "member." and parts of his body. 

This therefore confirms that the saints and angels in heaven do make progress in knowledge and happiness, by what they see of God's works on earth. We know that all the happiness of the saints in heaven is entirely dependent on those great things that Christ did on earth in the work of redemption, as it was purchased by it. And there is reason to think that their knowledge and glory is, in other respects, by what they see of those great works of providence which God carries on [in] the world, in the prosecution of the grand design of redemption.

The triune God is, of course, at the center of all this as the one moving the wheels of history for the unfolding of his redemptive plan and the ad extra manifestation of his glory (from entry 393, in Edwards, Notes on Scripture, 287-288).

Ezekiel 1:4. "And I looked, and, behold, a whirlwind came out of the north, and a great cloud, and a fire enfolding itself, and a brightness was about it, and out of the midst thereof as the color of amber, out of the midst of the fire." This that was here seen by Ezekiel was the Shekinah, or the symbol and representation of the deity. Here is a cloud and fire, as God appeared in the wilderness in a pillar of cloud and fire. Psalms 18:11, "His pavilion round about him were dark waters and thick clouds of the skies." And Psalms 97:2, "Clouds and darkness are round about him." And there was a whirlwind, which was an usual symbol of the divine presence, as Job 38:1. "Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind." So again Job 40:6. And Nahum 1:3, "The Lord hath his way in the whirlwind." 

The fire that appeared, which did in a special manner represent the divine essence, is said to be "a fire enfolding itself," or "catching itself," as it is in the margin [i.e. margin of the KJV] or receiving or taking itself into its own bosom, which represents the action of the deity towards itself, in the action of the persons of the TRINITY towards each other. The Godhead is perceived only by perceiving the Son and the Spirit, for "no man hath seen God at any time" [John 1:18]. He is seen by his image, the Son, and is felt by the Holy Spirit, as fire is perceived only by its light and heat, seen by one and felt by the other. Fire, by its light, represents the Son of God, and by its heat, the Holy Spirit. God is light, and he is love. This light, in the manner of the subsisting of the Father and the Son, shines on itself; it receives its own brightness into its own bosom. The deity, in the generation of the Son, shines forth with infinite brightness towards itself; and in the manner of the proceeding of the Holy Ghost, it receives all its own heat into its own bosom, and burns with infinite heat towards itself. The flames of divine love are received and enfolded into the bosom of the deity. 

'Tis the nature of all other fire to go out of itself, as it were to fly from itself, and hastily to dissipate; the flames are continually going forth from the midst of the towards the exterior air. But this fire received itself into its own bosom. 

Ezekiel saw this cloud of glory and fire enfolding, or taking in, itself, before he saw the chariot of God, the cherubims, and wheels, and firmament, and throne, and the appearance of a man above upon it which came out of that cloud and fire. And therefore this "fire enfolding itself" does especially represent the deity before the creation of the world, or before the beginning of theJE deleted "course of the wheel." being of this chariot with its wheels, when all God's acts were only towards himself, for then there was no other being but he. 

This appeared coming "out of the north," from whence usually came whirlwinds in that country, and possibly because in the north is the empty place. The chariot of the world comes forth out of nothing.

I conclude with a related and helpful summary of Edwards' view of Ezekiel 1 which explains further the trinitarian nature of Edwards' view of all things that Edwards sees in that Biblical passage.

The second notable piece of Edwards's project, expounding upon the 'God-saturated' aspect of redemption history, is his use of Ezekiel's wheels." Edwards pictured the whole of created reality like a huge clock, and just as the sun, stars and planets rotate in their orbits, so ages of history, and even individual lives, are part of a cyclical movement careening toward God's end the 'striking of the hammer at the appointed time', as Edwards would prophetically utter. Like a symphony, each wheel moves according to its role within the largest wheel—a cacophony of glorifying revolutions—accomplishing one ultimate turn of time and inaugurating God's eternal consummation. In his 'Notes on Scripture', Edwards explains: 'Things in their series and course in providence, they do as it were go round like a wheel in its motion on earth. That which goes round like a wheel goes from a certain point or direction, till it gradually returned to it again. So is the course of things in providence. He uses the zodiac, the changes in season and the yearly calendar to note the cyclical nature of time, never neglecting to highlight its fundamental teleology. Most importantly, all these 'wheels' are interconnected...

Edwards sees this movement in everything from the calendar to the circulation of blood in human bodies. As one epoch falls toward the earth, so another begins to rise, just as a wheel simultaneously hits the ground and rises from it. Likewise, all of the lesser wheels are gears within one giant wheel representing all of time. This wheel makes only one great revolution, from God and back to God ... The organization and driving force behind every other wheel is this one; everything coming from God, and everything ultimately going back to him in judgement. Notably, Edwards maps the structure of History of Redemption onto his development of Ezekiel's wheels. Each section of the redemption sermon series is represented by a wheel within the great wheel: 'The course of things from the beginning of the world to the flood may be looked upon as the revolution of a wheel ... The course of things from the flood to Abraham was as it were the revolution of another wheel, or another revolution of the same wheel.' This epochal motion in creation, ushering created reality toward eternity, narrates the broad movement of Edwards's theological vision. The eternal motion of the divine processions in the Godhead is the engine for his development, driving the economic activity of the Son and the Spirit, out of which flows the scheme of redemption. In other words, these wheels of time diligently perform their specific part according to the conductor's movement, the movement of the inner-triune life of God, who wills his economic existence for the redemption of his creation. As such, this organizing framework for Edwards's theology revolves around redemption and ultimately Christ, its centrepiece. Just as each demarcation of History of Redemption corresponds to a wheel (or revolution of that wheel), so this image would serve the theocentricity of Edwards's systematic portrayal of doctrine. His project would be 'thrown into the form of an history', but as a systematic theology, it was held together through a careful and expansive notion of the immanent and economic life of God (Kyle C. Strobel, Jonathan Edwards's Theology: A Reinterpretation, 7-9). 

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Image from freebibleimages.org 

Being Raised with Him in Newness of Life

This is an extract from The Reformed Baptism Form: A Commentary (Jenison, MI: Reformed Free Publishing Association, 2016), by Reformed minister and theologian Bastiaan Wielenga (1873-1949). He was a fruit of the Afscheiding (Secession) of 1834 in the Netherlands, led by men such as Hendrik de Cock (1801–1842) and Simon van Velzen (1809-1896). His instructor and mentor was Herman Bavinck (1854–1921), whom Wielenga held in high esteem.

The section below is part of a commentary of the prayer found in the Reformed "Form for the Administration of Baptism," which says what follows.

O Almighty and eternal God, Thou who hast according to Thy severe judgment punished the unbelieving and unrepentant world with the flood, and hast according to Thy great mercy saved and protected believing Noah and his family; Thou who hast drowned the obstinate Pharaoh and his host in the Red Sea, and hast led Thy people Israel through the midst of the Sea upon dry ground, by which baptism was signified—we beseech Thee that Thou wilt be pleased, of Thine infinite mercy, graciously to look upon these children and incorporate them by Thy Holy Spirit into Thy Son Jesus Christ, that they may be buried with Him into His death, and be raised with Him in newness of life; that they may daily follow Him, joyfully bearing their cross, and cleave unto Him in true faith, firm hope, and ardent love; that they may, with a comfortable sense of Thy favor, leave this life, which is nothing but a continual death, and at the last day may appear without terror before the judgment seat of Christ Thy Son, through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with Thee and the Holy Ghost, one only God, lives and reigns forever. Amen.

More specifically, what follows is part of Wielenga's commentary to the part in bold.

_______________

Bastiaan Wielenga (1873-1949).
Source: https://bit.ly/3asMWhM

Note, this is the symbol of what grace does. It pulls the old down, so that the new may rise. Just as Christ’s death and burial did not have the purpose in themselves but were the way, the means to his glorious resurrection, so are the death and burial of the old man the way of preparation, the trailblazer to the resurrection of the new life.

What is this new life? In every respect it is the contrast to the old life. Everything that the old man, who goes down into the grave and is left behind, is in a negative sense, the new man, who gloriously arises from the grave, is in a positive sense. 

He no longer serves sin (Rom. 6:6). He is justified and freed from sin (v. 7). Death has no longer dominion over him (v. 9). Sin no longer reigns in his mortal body in order to obey it in the lusts of the same body (v. 12). He no longer yields his members as instruments of unrighteousness (v. 13). He has put off concerning the former conversation the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts (Eph. 4:22). 

All this is the negative result. But that, as the reverse, brings with it a positive power and beauty and the blessedness of the new life. 

Listen to what the apostle says of the new life that by baptism is sealed and signified to God’s child. He who by baptism partakes of the resurrection of Christ may believe that he shall also live with him, that is, here the spiritual and thereafter eternal life (Rom. 6:8). For in that he lives, he lives for God (v. 10). He yields himself unto God (that is, he is subservient to God) as those who are alive from the dead and yields his members as instruments of righteousness to God (v. 13). He has obeyed from the heart that form of doctrine that was delivered to him (v. 17). He has become a servant of righteousness (v. 18). He has his fruit unto holiness, and the end everlasting life (v. 22). 

To summarize all of this: Christ has given himself for his people so that he may sanctify and cleanse them with the washing of water by the word, so that he might present them to himself a glorious body, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish (Eph. 5:26–27). 

Thus new is not used here in the form in the way of, for example, the expression “a new year,” where it means nothing but something that follows on, that has just begun; or also as the expression “a new book,” which indicates that it has not been used. No, when God is asked in this prayer for the resurrection of a new life, this means a completely different and changed life, a life totally and radically different from the former one. 

This kind of life comprises not just a part of man, but the whole of man: a new mind and a new heart; a new will and a new imagination; new emotions and a new consciousness. Everything must become new, in him and to him. Also the new body that will one day be raised from the grave as a perfect instrument of the renewed soul is the result of being baptized into the resurrection of Christ. 

If perhaps the question arises among us, why all this is asked separately for this child when it is already included in the incorporation into Christ, the answer is that life, also the new life, is not only God’s gift to man, but also a calling, a task of man. The Reformed declare themselves dead set against all fatalism, whether this is forced upon them from Islam or from a modern form of the philosophy of Spinoza. The Christian is not forced to live but actively lives life, when God ignites the spark of the new life in his soul. He walks, as Paul says in Romans 6, in newness of life. 

What would otherwise be the sense of the admonitions that he adds to the picture of that glorious renewed life? Why in verse 13 this: “Neither yield ye your members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin: but yield yourselves unto God, as those that are alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness unto God.” 

Life is not letting oneself be swept along by the tide, simply awaiting those things that will happen. It is a battle, a pushing forward; a striving for development that comes to an end; and running the race that must find its end. It is not without reason that our marginal annotators at Romans 6:4 point to Hebrews 12:1, where we read, “Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us.” 

Thus this prayer has its origin in the truth that the new life of God’s child is in itself perfect and spotlessly holy, but it needs to develop into full maturity. He must strongly resist the sin that is rampant and attacks man from within and without. The prayer to enable the Christian for life’s entire task and the whole of his calling is thus encapsulated in this petition, [So that it be] raised with him in newness of life. 

The congregation prays for the child that he later will live this new life, internally in the hidden relationship with God, but also externally in all walks of life in which God may give him a place—in the family; in the church; in his place of work; in society and in the country. It is the prayer that grace, sealed and promised by baptism, may spread its sphere of influence over all that the child is, thinks, wills, speaks, and does. Thus how meaningful is this prayer and how rich in content. 

But in order that this new man not regard himself for a moment capable to do all these things in his own power, the congregation adds the conclusive and most significant few words: with him! To be raised with Christ in newness of life is the prayer. Not only now, but always. Never without Christ. Always sharing in his resurrection. 

Outside the vine the shoot has no sap and does not bear fruit. Without a connection from moment to moment with the great power source, the platinum filament of the electric lamp refuses to glow. Without the root the plant is doomed to die. 

Only when we have become one plant with him in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection (Rom. 6:5). Christ can say of himself, “For as the Father hath life in himself; so hath he given to the Son to have life in himself” (John 5:26). But the glory of the Christian is, “Nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me” (Gal. 2:20). 

...

One does not easily exhaust the thoughts of the prayer that the child be raised with him in newness of life. The resurrection of the new man is a process as of a budding flower that under the fertile dew unfolds its beauty by an ever-increasing glorious life. It is a process that begins in regeneration, and through the various steps of the life of faith and sanctification it reaches its climax in the last day in the glorification of soul and body. To partake of the resurrection of Christ is to possess, partly due to right and partly in reality, all the gifts and treasures of grace, power, beauty, and purity that are present in the treasury of the opened grave of Jesus.

Therefore, I can do nothing but recommend this prayer so that it may be an edifying meditation for the congregation. Hence I only point out that I hear the echo of the promise of the Son in this phrase and presented in the doctrine of baptism, in which the Son promises, indeed seals, that he incorporates us into his death and his resurrection. 

We also find unmistakably here a hint of what is said in the third part of the doctrine of baptism: we have become duty bound to a new obedience that exists in clinging to God, forsaking the world, mortifying our old natures, and walking in a (some editions say new) godly life. 

In this way we see this exemplary fact that the prayer refers back to the promise and to the admonition of the Lord. It is much, inconceivably much, for which the congregation implores the God of the covenant for this child. Yet it is no more than what the same God first promised and later will seal by the water of baptism. 

How gloriously the light shines now over this remarkable admonition in the second part of the covenant, in which God claims the whole of man. Our merciful Father, knowing our frame, does not demand anything from us without promising to effectuate his power in our weakness, and then he allows us to plead this promise. So it is also true in baptism that the congregation may transpose the commandment into a prayer. Here also we find: “Incline my heart, Lord I pray, and grant the power to obey. Then in thy truth I shall walk, fearing and blessing thy holy name.” 

How edifying this is for the wavering Christian, this profoundly encouraging thought that with God’s all-embracing command to walk in a godly life, he stands between the promise and the prayer. By the promise on one side and the prayer on the other, the limping, doddering walker may know he is supported on the steep, difficult path of obedience. Thus this deeply humbling consciousness of being incapable of all good in and of himself does him no harm nor makes him lame, for he knows that here also the Pauline word is true, “For when I am weak, then am I strong” [2 Cor. 12:10], and I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me [Phil. 4:13].

 ~ Bastiaan Wielenga, The Reformed Baptism Form: A Commentary (Jenison, MI: Reformed Free Publishing Association, 2016), 238-243. Shared with permission. The book was translated from the Dutch by a dear sister, Annemie Godbehere, now with the Lord.

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T. J. Crawford (1812–1875) on Divine and Human Agency

A photo of
T. J. Crawford (1812–1875).

The Mysteries of Christianity is a book by Scottish Presbyterian minister, theologian, and professor Thomas Jackson Crawford (1812–1875). The book can be found online in open access or purchased in hard copy. The book is a collection of twelve lectures (plus nine short appendices) where the author's "aim has been, not to attempt a solution of the mysteries connected with some of the great doctrines of revelation, but to show that the mysteriousness of these doctrines, however inexplicable, is no sufficient reason either for excluding them from the place they occupy among the articles of the Christian faith, or for discrediting the Christian system as containing them" (vi; the page references here reported are from the Google online version). 

In Lecture 9, Crawford discusses "the converting and sanctifying agency of the Holy Spirit" (252). In it, the author's goal is to clarify some misconceptions about and help to understand some difficulties regarding the relationship between the sovereign and irresistible saving agency of God and the agency of the rational, moral creature that is man. Crawford does not only opposes those who "attempt to solve the difficulty by limiting the divine agency" (273), but he also refutes those who "attempt to solve the difficulty by subverting man's activity" (279). It is to the latter group that the following quotations from Crawford's The Mysteries of Christianity are directed.

    «In so far as the human activity consists in a diligent use of what are called “the means of grace”—as, for example, in giving earnest heed to the Word of God and the preaching of the Gospel—the union of such activity on the part of man with the efficacious agency of the Holy Spirit may to some extent admit of explanation. Thus much at least we may readily understand, that unless the Spirit of God were to inspire sinners with the knowledge of divine truth at the same time that He regenerates them, the instructions conveyed by the reading and preaching of the Word of God can in no way be superseded. For, grant that our faculties and dispositions were renewed by Him, what are we to do with them when once they are renewed, unless we have suitable objects presented to us, on which in their rectified state they may be exercised? And where are these suitable objects to be found, unless the Holy Spirit either makes a special revelation of them to every separate individual when regenerated, or else discloses them once for all in His revealed Word, and requires us to exercise our minds upon them as there unfolded? What though we have a believing, loving, and obedient disposition wrought in us? That disposition, so far as we are able to see, will continue dormant and inoperative, like the faculty of vision when light is wholly withheld, unless it have such things to bring it into exercise as those which are placed before us in the Word of truth. To a blind man, the restoration of his eyesight would be of no practical utility, if he were to be, all his life long, immured in thick darkness which no ray of light could penetrate. In much the same condition would the sinner be, if his faculties and dispositions were renewed, without having those materials of thought, and feeling, and choice, and affection presented to him, which the Scriptures have unfolded. It thus appears that the province of the Word and the province of the Spirit, in the renovation of the human soul, do not conflict or interfere with one another. The former presents, as it were, objects of vision to the mind’s eye; whereas the latter creates or restores in us the power of spiritual vision by which we may discern them. 

The activity of man, however, is not confined, according to the Scriptural doctrine, to the use of the means of grace. It extends also to the putting forth of earnest personal efforts in the way of accomplishing those self-same things which are ascribed to the agency of the Holy Spirit. Nothing is more obvious from the whole tenor of the Scriptures than that God deals with us, not as with inert machines that are incapable of thought, or feeling, or voluntary action, but in such a way as is agreeable to our constitution as sentient, reasonable, active, and accountable agents. Not only does He address truths and arguments to our understanding, but He makes appeals to our consciences and affections, holds out inducements to influence our choice, and lays down commandments to which He requires a willing obedience. And in particular, He requires of us, as our duty, those very things which He teaches us to expect from Him as the fruit of His regenerating and transforming grace. Thus, if His promise be “a new heart will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you,” it is no less clearly and expressly His injunction, “Cast away from you all your transgressions, and make you a new heart and a new spirit.” If He speaks of the spiritual resurrection as a divine work, saying, “God who is rich in mercy, for His great love wherewith He loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us and raised us up together with Christ,"—He no less explicitly speaks of it as the sinner’s duty, saying, “Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead and Christ shall give thee light.” In like manner, if such prayers are offered by inspired men as “Turn Thou us unto Thee, and we shall be turned,” “Turn us again, O God of hosts, and cause Thy face to shine, and we shall be saved,”—it must not be forgotten that such commands are issued by them as “Turn ye, turn ye, for why will ye die?” “Repent, and turn yourselves from all your transgressions, so iniquity shall not be your ruin; ” “Repent, and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out.” Sometimes, again, the human and the divine agency in the work of sanctification are presented to us in one view, as in that notable exhortation of the apostle, “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who worketh in you to will and to do of His good pleasure.” 

Those persons, therefore, who think that their own endeavours are entirely superseded by the agency of the Holy Spirit, must have formed for themselves a theory of divine influence very different from that which the Scriptures have revealed. It certainly is not the doctrine of Holy Scripture that the power of God so works in us as wholly to subvert or set aside our own activity. We are wrought upon “to will and to do.” And for any man to be thus wrought upon, and yet to continue passive and inert, willing nothing and doing nothing; would involve a broad and palpable contradiction. The process of our conversion and sanctification is so far from superseding our own activity, that it really consists in a restoration of all our spiritual powers and energies to their proper exercise. And though it be “God who worketh in us” to repent, to believe, to obey, and to persevere, it is not God who repents, believes, obeys, and perseveres in our stead, so as to dispense with our agency in these things, but it is we who do them for ourselves. He, indeed, inclines and enables us to do them; and without Him we can do nothing towards their accomplishment. But we are, notwithstanding, the active agents in the performance of them.» ~ 268-271. 

    «Too often has the great truth been inadequately apprehended, that, in so far as redeemed sinners are themselves concerned, sanctification is the very end of their redemption—the grand and ultimate consummation of the scheme of grace. The Scriptures teach that Christ “gave Himself for us, that He might redeem us from all iniquity, and purify unto Himself a peculiar people, zealous of good works that “He bare our sins in His own body on the tree, that we, being dead to sins, might live unto righteousness; ”and that “Christ loved the Church, and gave Himself for it; that He might sanctify and cleanse it, ... and present it to Himself a glorious Church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish.” Many professed Christians, however, are inclined to look upon their deliverance from the merited wrath, and restoration to the forfeited favour of God, as constituting the sum and substance of the “great salvation;” and it is no uncommon thing among them to speak of the personal holiness of a believer, wrought in him by the grace of the Holy Spirit, as being solely or chiefly valuable from the evidence it affords of the sincerity of that faith by which he is justified and accepted in the sight of God. In doing so, they not only misconceive but positively invert the doctrine of the New Testament. Personal holiness is there represented as having an intrinsic importance, and that of the very highest order. True, it is not the foundation on which we are called to build; but it is a prominent part of the stately edifice for the erection of which that foundation has been laid. It is not our remedy; but it is the completion of the actual cure which that remedy is designed to accomplish. It is not in any respect, or in any degree, the means of salvation; but it is one of the most essential and most precious elements of salvation itself. Let it be but thus viewed, and then a flood of light before unnoticed, or at the best imperfectly discerned, will at once appear to be shed upon the Christian system. The Gospel will then present itself in a character every way worthy of its divine origin, as a wonderful scheme devised by heavenly grace for the furtherance of the wisest, noblest, holiest, and most beneficent end that could possibly be contemplated—the regeneration and recovery of a fallen race; their restoration, in the first instance, to the forfeited favour, but ultimately to the lost image and likeness of God, and the final “presentation of them faultless before the presence of His glory with exceeding joy.”» ~ 289-290.

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Idealism and Christian Theology: A Review

Introduction

Idealism and Christian Theology: Idealism and Christianity: Volume 1 (ICT from now on), by Joshua R. Farris (Editor), S. Mark Hamilton  (Editor), and James S. Spiegel (General Editor) is a well-constructed collection of articles aimed at showing  the relevance and plausibility of theistic idealism as set forth in the works of Anglican bishop and philosopher George Berkeley (1685-1753) and New England preacher, theologian, and philosopher Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758). The articles not only expound on the respective ontologies of those two thinkers, but they are also constructive in that they aim (in different ways and degrees) at producing developments and offering possible corrections.

I need to start by saying that "idealism" is notoriously difficult to define. In addition to that, and in relation to the volume reviewed here, Edwards' and Berkeley's respective idealisms have both similarities and differences (see chapter 2). Nevertheless, it seems safe to say that theistic idealism (both Berkeley's and Edwards') includes at least the following principles.

1. Nonmental entities are mind dependent. In Berkeley’s famous formulation, “Their esse is percipi.”

2. The only things that exist are minds and their contents; nonmental entities are thus not really nonmental at all, but are the contents of minds. “. . . there is not any other substance than spirit, or that which perceives . . . that therefore wherein colour, figure, and the like qualities exist, must perceive them.”

3. Physical bodies consist solely of our perceptions of them. “. . . what are the forementioned objects but the things we perceive by sense, and what do we perceive besides our own ideas or sensations . . .?”

4. God is the immediate cause of our perceptions of physical bodies. “. . . nothing can be more evident . . . than the existence of God, or a spirit who is intimately present to our minds, producing in them all that variety of ideas or sensations, which continually affect us.” (p. 198, from James M. Arcadi's article)

Nevertheless, there is more to Edwards' and Berkeley's, and I hope that what idealism is in this context will become clear as I go through the articles which compose this volume.

The contents

The "Introduction" is a presentation of the scope and relevance of the book as it aims to retrieve "ideas and arguments from its most significant modern exponents, especially George Berkeley and Jonathan Edwards, in order to assess its value for present and future theological consideration. As a piece of constructive theology itself (i.e., an approach to both systematic and philosophical theology, which draws from analytic resources for the purpose of clarifying, analyzing, developing, and extending theology as it is situated in particular traditions), this volume considers the explanatory power an idealist ontology has for a variety of issues in contemporary Christian theology" (1). I like the following: "Investigation into ontology is necessary for the task of Christian theology" (2).

In chapter 1, "The Theological Orthodoxy of Berkeley’s Immaterialism," James S. Spiegel aims at showing how Berkeley's "metaphysics acknowledges and exploits this biblical convention" and "that Berkeleyan immaterialism enjoys at least as much and perhaps more explanatory power than matterism when approaching key biblical passages such as the Genesis account of creation" (27). I found it very interesting how Spiegel helpfully explains how idealism faces no more difficulties than matterism regarding the problem of moral evil (independently of Berkeley's own theological orthodoxy, which arguably seems sound anyway).

George Berkeley (1685-1753).

With regard to immoral actions performed by human beings he notes first that “the imputation of guilt is the same, whether a person commits such an action with or without an instrument,” where in this context the “instrument” on the matterist’s account is understood to be material substance. In this way, Berkeley argues that his immaterialism is, for good or ill, on equal footing with realism when it comes to the problem of moral evil. If given his principles, the benevolence of God must be denied because of the presence of moral evil in the world, then the same follows for the philosopher who assumes the principles of matterism. Interposing material substance between God and human misconduct provides no buffer against divine responsibility. Just as a murderer is equally culpable for his act whether he uses a gun or his fist, God is culpable (if culpable at all) for natural evil whether or not he created the world using corporeal substance. Thus, Berkeley’s intention here is simply to show that any theodicy that works here for the matterist works equally well for the immaterialist. There is no difference between them on this issue ... It is not immaterialism specifically that is indicted here but the more general doctrine of the immediate providence of God. Berkeley’s principles place him squarely within a much larger tradition of Christian theology that affirms the divine foreordination of all things. Anyone within this tradition, including those of the matterist stripe, must grapple with the thorny problem of reconciling divine determinism, human responsibility, and the goodness of God ... Berkeley’s immaterialist metaphysics does not subject him to any more formidable problem of evil than that which confronts certain other matterists. For both the task of forging a satisfactory theodicy in light of the sovereignty of God is equally onerous. (15-16)

In chapter 2, William J. Wainwright's "Berkeley, Edwards, Idealism and the Knowledge of God," the author offers a very helpful comparison between Berkeley's and Edwards' idealism, expounding both the similarities and the differences. The article also helps getting rid of some misconceptions, for example, by noticing how "Berkeley takes for granted the truth of the common sense view that objects continue to exist when no finite minds perceive them" (37ff). Wainwright concludes by stating that "One of the principal aims of Edward’s published and unpublished work, then, was, like Berkeley’s, to defend revealed religion in general, and Christianity in particular, from the attacks of its freethinking critics" (48).

Chapter 3 is titled "Idealistic Panentheism: Reflections on Jonathan Edwards’s Account of the God-World Relation." In it, Jordan Wessling argues that Edwards holds to a variant of panentheism (emphatically not to be confused with pantheism) in virtue of his view according to which created minds are, not independent substances, but ideas of God's mind radically God-dependent. In spite of this unusual variation, however, Wessling argues that Edwards successfully maintains a proper doctrine of the distinction and relation between God and creation.

Edwards’s idealistic panentheism has a unique and perhaps fruitful way of conceptualizing both God’s transcendence and his immanence. As the necessarily existent, sole substance in the world (and given Edwards’s ocassionalism, the sole cause as well), God is radically different from all of the “shadowy,” non-substantial creation. Yet, since the world exists within the mind of God, there is no corner of creation where he is not. The very substance or being of God is omnipresent as it is the divine mind/substance that “upholds” and “stands beneath” all of (ideal) creation. (59)

In a similar positive light, the article sees Edwards' "direct account" of God's conservation of creation.

For God to conserve creation is to simply think about it in the manner necessary for the relevant collection of ideas to count as creation. I add qualification “in the manner necessary for the relevant collection of ideas to count as creation” because presumably not each collection of divine ideas raises to the level of creation. However, it seems to be a plausible assumption that there could be something other than material creation that appropriately designates one collection of divine ideas as creation. If so, then for each moment that creation exists, it exists if and only if God thinks about creation in a relevant way. (60)

The author also believes that Edwards' idealistic panentheism also helps with the requirement of parsimony in ontology.

Idealistic panentheism is every bit a philosophical framework as much as it is a theological one. Idealistic panentheism is in fact a kind of global or all-encompassing ontology, and as such, assessments along these lines are paramount. It seems, furthermore, that idealistic panentheism succeeds on at least one influential criterion for the success of a global ontology, namely parsimony. For on idealistic panentheism only God and his ideas exist. Thus there are no dualisms of kinds of substances (as we have seen with Edwards, God is the only one true substance) and hence there are no interaction problems between radically different kinds of entities (e.g., spirit and matter). Nor can the idealistic panentheist be accused of multiplying entities without warrant. (58)

I have a few disagreements. First, Wessling portraits Edwards' (soft) determinism (or compatibilism, if you will) as a problem.

Ideas are the kinds of things that are ultimately determined by external causes. In the human case, ideas are often determined by such influences as the will of the thinker, other mental states, biochemical operations, psychological history, and environmental inputs. But with a sovereign and omnipotent God, it seems that God’s ideas (when considered as a complete set) must be solely governed by the nature of God (including the nature of the divine mind) and his will. After all, it does not seem right that God’s ideas would, so to speak, “have minds of their own” that can exercise independent, contra-causal libertarian freedom. And it seems downright impious to suggest that God’s ideas are governed by genuinely random processes. Finally, if idealistic panentheism is true, there is nothing outside of God’s mind that can influence the shape of God’s ideas. But given all of these conditions, it seems that it must be God who ultimately determines his ideas, by choice or by his nature or some combination thereof. In which case, determinism is true—since the world just is a collection of divine ideas that is ultimately determined by the will and nature of God. It is no wonder that Edwards was such an ardent defender of theological determinism! (61-62)

No wonder, indeed, in the light of Edwards' Freedom of the Will! But what is unattractive to some is attractive to others, and I belong to the latter group.

Also, in the context of the problem of evil, Wessling talks of creation as "part of God" (63-64). No textual reference or proof is given for such a claim, which, in fact, I believe is ungrounded. For Edwards, creation is God's collection of ideas, but that does not necessarily entail that those ideas are "parts" of God's being (which would contradict a host of passages where Edwards asserts divine simplicity and aseity). No doubt Edwards' view raises the question of how to think about those divine ideas and their relationship with God, but making those ideas "parts" of God's own being is not entailed by Edwards' ontology (I made a similar point in my review of John Bombaro's Jonathan Edwards' Vision of Reality, section "A disagreement"). That said, the article is helpful and fair both towards Edwards and his sympathizers (Wessling himself offers some possible solutions to the possible difficulties faced by Edwards' idealistic panentheism).

Chapter 4 contains Keith E. Yandell's "Berkeley, Realism, Idealism, and Creation." In this brief ("the price of brevity in the face of interpretative fecundity," 73) but helpful article, the author offers ontological and epistemological considerations aimed at showing Berkeley's idealism as a possible option for explaining the relationship between God and creation. In addition to some noteworthy critical remarks on Berkeley's imagist theory of meaning (and in spite of a bizarre claim about the B-theory of time), the paper helps to clarify what is the realism that Berkeley rejects (and, consequently, what is the realism the he embraces).

In chapter 5, we find "Edwardsian Idealism, Imago Dei, and Contemporary Theology" by Joshua R. Farris. This article was a pleasant confirmation since Joshua and I reached independently some of the same conclusions on those issues (although, I admit, I should have been aware of his article before writing mine). The paper discusses Edwards' doctrine of the relationship between body and soul, and it offers some constructive Edwardsean ways to think about the imago dei aided by the doctrine of God's nature and action. Contrary to some critics, and similarly to Wesseling, Farris argues that 

Edwards can affirm what some have construed, in the contemporary literature, as the traditional and orthodox view of the Creator-creature relation in that Edwards can affirm God’s transcendence from creation, but also the intimacy and immanence of his nature to human creatures without assuming the supposed “modern” divide between the two notions. In this way, then, God is said to encompass all of reality, most importantly human reality—as the one above and as the one present to it. (95)

It's a fine article, and I found it helpful for understanding even further Edwards' distinction between the natural and the supernatural/moral image of God in man. However, like for chapter 3, I have doubts about the extent of Edwards' view of divine ideas and theosis is portrayed (93, 97-98, 101).

Chapter 6 contains another good article, "On the Corruption of the Body: A Theological Argument for Metaphysical Idealism," by S. Mark Hamilton. Aptly placed after Farris' article as they have some topics in common, Hamilton discusses ways to think about the corruption of the body, as a consequence of the fall of mankind into sin, within the framework of Edwards' metaphysical idealism. I found it helpful in order to better realize "the difference between what the mind-body dualist calls a material body and what the idealist refers to as a physical body" (117). At page 118, I found a similar unreferenced claim present in chapters 3 and 5.

Marc Cortez discusses "Idealism and the Resurrection" in chapter 7. The article offers a few key but sometimes neglected points in order to understand Edwards' metaphysics, such as, for instance, the following one about perception.

Edwards also rejects the notion that material objects are mind-independent realities, contending instead that these property-bundles can only exist insofar as they are perceived by some conscious being. In Edwards’s view, when I say that an apple is red, what I really mean is that God is currently producing all the properties of appleness (solidity, shape, taste, etc.), along with the corresponding property of redness. But what could it mean to say that God is producing these properties unless we mean that he is causing some conscious being to experience the requisite properties? After all, he cannot mean that God is causing the properties to adhere in some substance, since there is no such material substance. Thus, he must be acting in such a way that the properties really “adhere” in the conscious experience of some perceiver. This is what Edwards means when he concludes that “nothing has any existence anywhere else but in consciousness” and that “the material universe exists only in the mind.” For Edwards, then, a material body is much more of an “act” or “event” than it is a “thing” or “substance.”

However, this does not mean that created things do not exist in a meaningful sense of the word.

This does not mean, however, that material bodies lack any meaningful existence. Although material things do not exist “on their own,” they have a stable mode of existence in God’s constant and consistent activity ... The existence of material objects is grounded both in God’s “stable idea” of those objects and in his “stable will” by which he consistently and perfectly communicates that idea “to other minds.” In that restricted sense, Edwards can even refer to material objects as having “substance.” [Continuing in endnote 16: In this more limited sense, then, “substance” refers to an object that has this kind of “stable” existence and that consequently impacts how we experience the world. Thus Edwards contends that such objects continue to exist (in at least some sense) even when they are not being directly perceived by any conscious mind because God continues to constitute the perceptual experience of created beings on the basis of the supposition of such material objects.] (131-132, 140)

Cortez then continues by discussing the coherence of the resurrection of the body, together with the intermediate state, in Edwards' thought. Cortez sees a significant problem with Edwards' very positive description of the intermediate state. However, he seems to make the problem slightly bigger than it is when he claims that both Edwards' "lofty descriptions of the intermediate state and his speculations on the possibility of immediate spiritual knowledge point toward a view of humanity where the body appears somewhat extraneous" (138), especially when considering that Cortez himself (assuming the problem) suggests that possible modification can be made without significant modifications to Edwards' thought.

Chapter 8 contains Oliver D. Crisp's "Jonathan Edwards, Idealism, and Christology." According to the author, the paper's argument "has two parts. The first offers an overview of the aspects of Edwards’s metaphysics relevant to his Christology, focusing on his immaterialism, metaphysical antirealism, occasionalism, and pure act panentheism. The second sets out the Christological implications for these four doctrines, including the theological obstacles they present for the orthodoxy of Edwardsianism. In conclusion, Crisp offers some reflections on the implications of Edwards’s idealism for his Christology" (146). It is a lengthy paper that provides a handy critical summary of Edwards' view on the issues in question.

"Jonathan Edwards’s Dynamic Idealism and Cosmic Christology" is Seng-Kong Tan's paper that we find in chapter 9, perhaps my favorite paper in this collection.

In this essay, I utilize Edwards’s Trinitarian musings, particularly on the reciprocity of Word and Spirit, to illuminate and exegete his philosophical idealism in two parts. First, I argue that Edwards’s pneumatic idealism is grounded in the divine being and is crucial to his construal of the created order. Not only do I show that pneumatic action ensures the dynamism and objectivity of this ideal, physical universe, in part two, I argue that this very same Spirit causes the being and identity of the incarnate Logos. (178)

I believe Tan meets his goals. The paper is pleasantly theological, but it also contains important philosophical discussions and clarifications such as the following. 

Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758).

For Edwards, his idealism is not meant to displace the commonsense, scientific conception of the universe: "Though we suppose that the existence of the whole material universe is absolutely dependent on idea, yet we may speak in the old way, and as properly and truly as ever." For, "all the natural changes in the universe . . . in a continued series" are commensurate with that completed, virtual series of ideas in the Logos." That is why "divine constitution is the thing which makes truth:" for it includes both an ontic and epistemological correspondence between the actual to the virtual ideas in God. That individual identity of a created thing is not located in itself, be it in an underlying substance or otherwise, need not undermine creaturely integrity For a created thing to be dynamically recreated and reconstituted as singular testifies to its utter poverty of independent being and its radically dependent ontological relation to God. This oneness of the physical universe is, therefore, not an illusion to God or human beings." (184)

Tan's article reminded me of his excellent Fullness Received and Returned: Trinity and Participation in Jonathan Edwards.

Chapter 10 offers James M Arcadi's "Idealism and Participating in the Body of Christ." Assuming Berkeley's idealism, the article's goal is to argue that the model of the Eucharist (which he calls "impanation") the author offers "makes best sense of the conjunction of the commitments to idealism and the corporeal presence of Christ in the Eucharist" (198).

Any Christian theologian faced with the task of interpreting Christ’s utterances at the Last Supper is in for a challenging project. Those sympathetic to idealism and to a corporeal presence interpretation of these utterances are in for an even stiffer challenge. For how could Christ be said to be bodily present in the Eucharist when none of the sensible qualities of his body are presented to the minds of the recipients? This trouble is compounded in corporeal presence theories of the Eucharist that explicitly state that the sensible qualities of Christ’s body are not present in the Eucharist. On an idealistic metaphysical framework, this surely entails that Christ is not bodily present in the Eucharist. Faced with this dilemma, one might be tempted to give up idealism or give up on corporeal presence notions of Christ in the Eucharist. However, I have argued that impanation, and specifically Type-S Impanation, is able to deliver on the corporeal presence of Christ in the Eucharist within an idealist ontology. (210)

The argument in and of itself seems formally valid, and it is very interesting to follow its course assuming (for the sake of argument) one of the two premises, i.e., a doctrine of the corporeal presence of Christ in the Supper (the other premise is idealism). However, since premises are the grounds upon which an argument stands or falls (including when the argument is formally impeccable), and assuming the dilemma is real, one could not feel any need to give up idealism because there is no need to accept a corporeal presence. Arcadi himself says: "If the model I offer is not accepted, I suggest one must give up one of these conjuncts" (198). Personally, I have still to meet a proper biblical and philosophical explanation of how Christ can be fully and truly human and be in any sense corporally or bodily present elsewhere than where his body is. Therefore, I find a corporeal presence dispensable.

Finally, we have chapter 11 with Timo Airaksinen's "Idealistic Ethics and Berkeley’s Good God." The author seeks to show what follows.

Berkeley’s idealistic ethics: one cannot define moral notions and conscience without a reference to the mind and its functions or, in this case, God’s will. He is the ideal model and the measure of the good and the right, or virtue. There are no other adequate models. In other words, it only makes sense to talk about ethics in a theological context. To talk about the good and the right as do the scientifically minded mechanist materialists and supporters of enlightened atheism— or the “free thinkers” of Berkeley’s time— is to miss the indispensable spiritual components of ethical terms. Hence, Berkeley is an ethical idealist in the Platonic sense: his faith in God allows him to define the ethical ideals, or the model principles of moral conduct and the measures of ethical life, in an idealistic fashion. His ethics rests on idealistic metaphysics— it is metaphysically informed as it tracks God. (218)

The paper helps the reader towards that stated direction. Nevertheless, the article leaves the impression to possess an expository and argumentative potential that was not actuated as it could have.

Concluding Remarks

One thing that this volume made me realize even more is that labels, although necessary, can be misleading at times. There are a lot of misconceptions regarding idealism, from simple misunderstandings to grandiose statements regarding idealism's allegedly inexorable slippery slope into full skepticism. I believe that part of the reason for these misconceptions can be partly summarised by using the words of German philosopher Kurt Flasch. Although what follows is related primarily to Medieval theologian and philosopher Meister Eckhart (1260–1328), it can apply to other "influential thinkers" such as Edwards.

"The works and ideas of influential thinkers, because of their rich complexity, seem different to every historical age; they oscillate, unconcerned with how we categorize them. But anyone who starts to work historically looks for order; he needs labels, and so he clings to disciplinary affiliations, intellectual currents, titles. Historical thinking thrives on rebelling against this initial manner of categorizing, classifying, and designating, especially in philosophy, where certain labels—like idealism, realism, and so forth—are almost never used without doing injustice. They drown the individual thinker in currents. Our task here is to try to grasp Eckhart's intellectual world, the private world of a misfit, through his writings; other labels we may bring to the text are dismissible and of no real value, except perhaps for their preparatory and didactic nature as aids to a first approach. Nothing can be inferred from them about Eckhart. At best, they are heuristic tools." ~ Kurt Flasch, Meister Eckhart: Philosopher of Christianity, 14.

In this regard, one of the main benefits I got from the reading of this book was further knowledge and clarity regarding 1) Berkeley's and Edwards respective idealism, and 2) terms (idealist, realist, matterist) and issue at stakes in these often complicated metaphysical debates, which in turn 3) help me to further clear my mind from perplexities and misconceptions regarding theistic idealism.

I also liked that the articles focused on Berkeley's and Edwards' idealism, which I think helped keeping the articles unified.

A book for the discerning reader, I recommend it to the student and to the scholar. It is not only a contribution to Christian theistic idealism, but also to Berkeleyian and Edwardsean studies.

Review copy kindly provided by Bloomsbury.

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