Kierkegaard on not Wasting your Dread

I have been reading the Danish philosopher Søren Aabye Kierkegaard (1813–1855) in the last few weeks or so. I have to say that it is an intense experience. I could parallel it to watching the decisive match for the victory of your favourite football team (hoping that the thinker from Copenhagen will forgive me for such a base and insufficient parallel). Similarly to a football match where a supporter is deeply engaged, one can go from the hights of interest, excitement, and victory to the deeps of disappointment, rejection, and defeat, and all this only in a matter of few pages or even few paragraphs.  

"Anyone who decides to directly approach Kierkegaard's works immediately perceives that he is starting a unique literary activity that has no equal in any other literature. It is a circle of thought that evades the system of any philosophical or theological school. It is an expression of dread. The reader feels in front of a high and arduous mountain, without paths; or he feels like being in the midst of a storm where it seems that there is no reference point." ~ Cornelio Fabro, "Introduction" in Søren Kierkegaard, Le grandi opere filosofiche e teologiche, 23.  Translation from the Italian is mine. Fabro was one of the foremost kirkegaardian scholars.     

In any case, I think it is undoubtedly true that the Danish philosopher often offers very interesting insights. His The Concepts of Dread is a book not suitable for the faint of heart, it is a somewhat obscure text, and in my personal opinion not the best of Kierkegaard's works. Nevertheless, I have decided to discuss it because, in spite of its obscurity, Kierkegaard ends it with words which I find shining with hope. Moreover, even though I disagree on many points with Kierkegaard's philosophy, I believe that the so-called "atheistic existentialism" (represented by thinkers such as see Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus) has nothing to do with both Kierkegaard's philosophical intention and contents. Atheistic existentialism (which can found its origin in the Danish philosopher only through a deep misappropriation of the latter) is a meticulous lament in the form of a masochistic analysis of the misery and vanity of human existence without eternal truths, an enterprise which goes nowhere but ending eating itself up, a godlessly mutilated version of Solomon's Ecclesiastes which adamantly rejects Solomon's inspired conclusion. 

"Further, by these, my son, be admonished: of making many books there is no end; and much study is a weariness of the flesh. Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter: Fear God, and keep his commandments: for this is the whole duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment, with every secret thing, whether it be good, or whether it be evil" ~ Ecclesiastes, 12:12-14.

It is true that also the Danish philosopher carefully expounded, on the basis of his life experience and through philosophical reflections, some of the logical conclusions of the consideration of human sinfulness and existence without God: anxiety, anguish, and dread. 

"No Grand Inquisitor has in readiness such terrible tortures as has dread, and no spy knows how to attack more artfully the man he suspects, choosing the instant when he is weakest, nor knows how to lay traps where he will be caught and ensnared, as dread knows how, and no sharp- witted judge knows how to interrogate, to examine the accused, as dread does, which never lets him escape, neither by diversion nor by noise, neither at work nor at play, neither by day nor by night." ~ The Concept of Dread, 139.

This dread "is not affirmed in the sense in which men commonly understand dread, as related to something outside a man, but in the sense that man himself produces dread" (Ivi.) through the consideration of the condition of sinful humanity and of oneself. However, contrarily to atheistic existentialism, Kierkeegard admitted that the only hope for humanity is faith, and not any faith, but faith in Christ. Within the sphere of faith, dread even becomes helpful and formative.

"Dread is the possibility of freedom. Only this dread is by the aid of faith absolutely educative, consuming as it does all finite aims and discovering all their deceptions." ~ Ivi.

I am not a Kierkegaardian scholar, and, although I think I understand what Kierkegaard means with "possibility of freedom," I prefer not to offer my explanation in case I might be wrong (a full understanding of this concept is not essential for the goal of this blog post). Therefore, I will only report here its most extended definition that I have found in The Concept of Dread.

"Dread is a qualification of the dreaming spirit, and as such it has its place in psychology. When awake, the difference between myself and my other is posited; sleeping, it is suspended; dreaming, it is a nothing vaguely hinted at. The reality of the spirit constantly shows itself in a form which entices its possibility, but it is away as soon as one grasps after it, and it is a nothing which is able only to alarm. More it cannot do so long as it only shows itself . One almost never sees the concept dread dealt with in psychology, and I must therefore call attention to the fact that it is different from fear and similar concepts which refer to something definite, whereas dread is freedom's reality as possibility for possibility. One does not therefore find dread in the beast, precisely for the reason that by nature the beast is not qualified by spirit." ~ Ibid, 38

Now, since only faith makes this dread educative, I find Kierkegaard's words quite helpful, especially for the thinking Christian particularly inclined to inner struggles. The Christian should not be "deceived" by the dread that he or she experiences. 

"The dread of possibility holds him as its prey, until it can deliver him saved into the hands of faith. In no other place does he find repose, for every other point of rest is mere nonsense, even though in men's eyes it is shrewdness. This is the reason why possibility is so absolutely educative. No man has ever become so unfortunate in reality that there was not some little residue left to him, and, as common sense observes quite truly, if a man is canny, he will find a way. But he who went through the curriculum of misfortune offered by possibility lost everything, absolutely everything, in a way that no one has lost it in reality. If in this situation he did not behave falsely towards possibility, if he did not attempt to talk around the dread which would save him, then he received everything back again, as in reality no one ever did even if he received everything tenfold, for the pupil of possibility received infinity, whereas the soul of the other expired in the finite." ~ Ibid, 141-142.

Kierkegaard is also aware of an issue that is at the same time delicate and tragic, that is, suicide.

"I do not deny that he who is educated by possibility is exposed, not to the danger of bad company and dissoluteness of various sorts, as are those who are educated by the finite, but to one danger of downfall, and that is self-slaughter." ~ (Ibid, 142). 

The Danish philosopher considers such extreme decision as a misunderstanding of the purpose of anguish and dread that happens "if at the beginning of his education he misunderstands the anguish of dread" (Ivi). These words may appear insensitive to the strugglers and to those who mourn a loved one. However, it has to be remembered that Kierkeegard also suffered from extreme spiritual and mental anguish throughout all his life. Therefore, he is not talking from the comfortable chair of an untouched professor, but from the battlefield of a fellow struggler. I think that what Kierkeegard immediately adds help clarifying this. 

"He who is educated by possibility remains with dread, does not allow himself to be deceived by its countless counterfeits, he recalls the past precisely; then at last the attacks of dread, though they are fearful, are not such that he flees from them. For him dread becomes a serviceable spirit which against its will leads him whither he would go. Then when it announces itself, when it craftily insinuates that it has invented a new instrument of torture far more terrible than anything employed before, he does not recoil, still less does he attempt to hold it off with clamor and noise, but he bids it welcome, he hails it solemnly, as Socrates solemnly flourished the poisoned goblet, he shuts himself up with it, he says, as a patient says to the surgeon when a painful operation is about to begin, 'Now I am ready.'" ~ Ibid, 142.

For Kierkeegard, therefore, dread is something that God uses and that we should interpret as a means to teach us to abandon ourselves to Providence and to trust in that God who, even through hellish anguish, is forming us and changing us. 

"When such a person, therefore, goes out from the school of possibility, and knows more thoroughly than a child knows the alphabet that he can demand of life absolutely nothing, and that terror, perdition, annihilation, dwell next door to every man, and has learned the profitable lesson that every dread which alarms may the next instant become a fact, he will then interpret reality differently, he will extol reality, and even when it rests upon him heavily he will remember that after all it is far, far lighter than the possibility was. Only thus can possibility educate; for finiteness and the finite relationships in which the individual is assigned a place, whether it be small and commonplace or world-historical, educate only finitely." ~ Ibid, 140.

However, such educative side of dread is possible only by faith: "With the help of faith dread trains the individual to find repose in Providence" (Ibid, 144). Kierkeegard adds that the same is true "with regard to guilt, which is the second thing dread discovers" (Ivi). Dread points us to redemption in Christ since "he who with respect to guilt is educated by dread will, therefore repose only in atonement" (Ivi).

"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof."
~ Matthew 6:34.

Continually ruminating about our own personal miseries and about the miseries of the human condition like atheistic existentialism means merely to describe the symptoms with purposeless meticulousness and, at the same time, ignoring or denying the true cause (man's fallenness) and the only remedy (faith in Christ). However, he "who does not wish to sink in the wretchedness of the finite is constrained, in the deepest sense, to assault the Infinite" (Ibid, 143), that is, God. This is why I have titled this blog post "Kierkegaard on not Wasting your Dread": to follow and encourage to follow Kierkegaard's invitation not to misinterpret dread and anguish (and suffering, in general) but to focus and meditate on their true divinely appointed purposes: to teach the believer about his finitude and total dependence on God, to strengthen him in facing the crosses of life, and to prepare him for eternity. 

"He who truly has learned to be in dread will tread as in a dance when the dreads of finiteness strike up their tune, and the disciples of finiteness lose their wits and their courage." ~ (Ibid, 144).

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Contra "A Song of Ice and Fire" (or also known as "Game of Thrones")

"'In the midst of life we are in death,"' said one; it is more true that in the midst of death we are in life. Life is the only reality; what men call death is but a shadow, a word for that which cannot be, a negation, owing the very idea of itself to that which it would deny. But for life there could be no death. If God were not, there would not even be nothing. Not even nothingness preceded life. Nothingness owes its very idea to existence." ~ George MacDonald (forefather of the fantasy literature). 

After reading the first two volumes of A Song of Ice and Fire (SIF), and after reading summaries of "Game of Thrones" (GoT)  I have come to the conclusion that George R. R. Martin's novel series possesses little originality, no real meaning, and no intrinsic purpose. In Martin's SIF, partly inspired by an illuministic parody of the Middle Ages, I find no plausible rationale that can explain why numerous people are attracted by it. Besides the intellectual interest in popular culture of some, the only reason that I can detect is the continual and immediate excitement and cheap satisfaction offered by the monomaniacal presence of intrigue, betrayal, violence, and sex.

Could it be that Martin wanted to portray humans as ambiguous, divided between good and evil? If he wanted to do that, I believe he failed. I do not see any "battle between good and evil ... weighed within the individual human heart" in Martin's universe. None whatsoever. Rather, I see a monotonous and predictable reappearance of the same patterns (intrigue, betrayal, murder, and war multiplied ad infinitum) where the only difference is the character who implements those reoccurring patterns. Then, sexual perversions are thrown in the middle of such a chaotic eternal circle in order to make GoT's redundant maelstrom of events somewhat more spicy (and, sadly, also because many enjoy detailed accounts of such base things). Finally, a spell and the occasional addition of a fantastic creature feed the flame of those who, in vain, are waiting for a hint of meaning or for a shadow of purpose that goes beyond Martin's monolithically monistic set of themes. 

"...that wonderful sign of the resurrection ... a Phoenix." ~
Clement of Rome, Letter to the Corinthians, 25.
The Phoenix is a general symbol of
the cycle of death and life, decay and renewal.

One of the most common responses I have met against this kind of criticism of Martin's GoT is an ad hominem argument. It goes something like that: I am used to "dualistic" readings, such as Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings, where good and evil are clearly separated and distinguishable. In a sense, it is Martin himself who inspired such responses to the criticism towards his monothematic universe. But, as I said, this is simply an ad hominem attack, and also a strawman. Even though Martin charges many of not having understood Tolkien, on this point Martin not only does not understand the English writer, but he also misrepresents him. In fact, it is not difficult to see that nearly all of Tolkien's main characters fight against inner and outside evil in a way that has more literary elegance and is more psychologically realistic than Martin's all-encompassing will of power that inevitably seizes all his characters. Martin's obsession with the themes that dogmatically reign over his GoT is evident from a statement he released in an interview: "Tolkien made the wrong choice when he brought Gandalf back. Screw Gandalf. He had a great death and the characters should have had to go on without him." Apart from the fact that most of the main characters went on without Gandalf for quite a while, Martin does not seem to realise that in Tolkien there is war and death besides life and meaning, differently from GoT's fated stream of unstoppable destruction and misery. Gandalf's resurrection has to do with the fascinating and developed mythology, atmosphere, and stories that Tolkien built around Arda and with which Martin's homogeneous universe cannot and will never be able to compete with from a literary and imaginative point of view.

In this regard, Martin's does not portray his characters in a realistic way, as complicated beings (like us humans) who fight against evil inside and outside of themselves, as he claims. Rather, Martin's characters are constructed in a monochromatic way (with secondary differences in personality and manners), all ultimately slaves of their desires and ambitions, with virtually no hope of redemption or of acquiring a higher purpose which goes beyond their own ultimate material satisfaction. Even GoT's "virtuous" characters (John Snow, Daenerys Targaryen, and similar) are merely passive victims of their circumstances who, as the "evil" characters, are propelled by a mere desire for power, victory, and revenge. Such "good" characters are no different from the "evil" ones, and their occasional moral reasoning is nothing but either an inconsistent and misplaced ethical element in a meaningless world or, which would be more consistent with the nature of that same world, mere weaknesses. In fact, one looks in GoT for a morally exemplary character in vain. 

"All the time—such is the tragi-comedy of our situation—we continue to clamor for those very qualities we are rendering impossible. You can hardly open a periodical without coming across the statement that what our civilization needs is more “drive”, or dynamism, or self-sacrifice, or “creativity”. In a sort of ghastly simplicity we remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests and expect of them virtue and enterprise. We laugh at honour and are shocked to find traitors in our midst. We castrate and bid the geldings be fruitful." ~ C. S. Lewis, The Abolition of Man, Chapter 1.

Take two far-from-being-Christian imaginary characters such as Hulk and Robert E. Howard's Conan the Barbarian. They are usually considered as uncomplicated figures and because of their only apparent simple desires (to "smash" and to conquer, respectively). However, even they possess interesting personalities accurately devised by their respective creators (for Conan, see A Witch Shall Be Born, among many examples; for Hulk, see Planet Hulk and World War Hulk). In my opinion, all this is missing from Martin's GoT where, at the end of the day, all characters tiresomely end up being and doing what any justified and coherent ethics would call evil. That GoT's gained Martin the arguable title of "American Tolkien," in spite of the existence of Robert E. Howard, Poul Anderson, and several others, is entirely beyond my understanding.

Another example among many. I have recently read a fantasy novel: Gli Eredi della Luce (Light's Heirs), by Mariangela Cerrino, an Italian lady. The novel talks about cataclysmic changes of an imaginary Earth populated by humans, Mu (humanoids with great telepathic powers), and Inan (sort of magicians). The society is cruel, cold, and violent, and the culture is ruled by casts and strict traditions, to the point of reminding me of the world of GoT. There are many tragic events: wars, violence, and murders. They are not described but only mentioned (differently from GoT's excessive and often gross graphic style), but they are there nonetheless. However, I did not put the book down. I pressed on. Meaning, sense, and purpose appeared, elements which are different and higher than the immediate earthly and selfish desires of this or that character. These goals, even though far from being informed by a Christian ethics, are at least more realistic and sophisticated than Martin's obsessively omnipresent desire to conquer, rule, and win that he fatalistically inject in the mind of virtually all his characters.

I am perfectly aware that also the Scriptures contain many tragic and violent events. But the Scriptures' historical records have a place in the history of the redemption of God's people. They are subservient to the end for which God created everything, that is, to show forth his glory. The highest example is the cross of Christ, the Son of God in the flesh gruesomely tortured and murdered (with very little details about this, because we do not need them). The evil of evils, however, gained the salvation of the people of God and their entrance to the bright future of the new heavens and the new Earth. Differently, GoT's evils are evils for evil's sake, as an end to themselves or, in the best case, as a means to fulfil the ambitions of such and such mentally unstable and/or morally twisted character. No, it is not that I am being prudish and religiously legalistic. The problem is GoT itself and its insufferable literary, psychologic, and philosophical monism that renders GoT little more than a repetitive soap opera of murders, betrayals, and wars with several sprinkles of sex and dragons to help to keep the interest high. 

From a philosophical point of view, it could be that the ethic practised by GoT's characters is an imaginary portrayal of the consistent practical outcomes of moral relativism. If this is true, the question is whether Martin intended to construct his universe with this philosophical intention or not. I understand that many people who read Martin embrace the world-view that underlies Martin's GoT: a meaningless world ruled by impersonal forces where there is no evil nor good. This is why, for them, my criticism would be of little value, since we do not share the same ethical and philosophical perspective. Nevertheless, the fact that millions of people like GoT, and that is considered a masterpiece by a large portion of the critics, is very telling about the condition of our popular (and also academic) culture.

But the Christian does not share nor approve GoT's self-contradictory philosophy of death despair. Or, at least, he should not. The Christian, according to his Christian liberty, is free to have hobbies and practices that do not compromise his faith and that do not damage the heart. Watching a football match, playing tennis, reading something, collecting items, and so on, are lawful activities as long as they are done orderly, discerningly, and coram deo (before God). The Christian can find interesting and instructive themes even in the literature that does not necessarily embrace Christian philosophy and ethics, by discerningly applying Augustine's principle of "spoiling the Egyptians." However, GoT's omnipresent, desensitizing, detailedly described, and tediously reoccurring exaltations of dishonesty, murder, depravity, and death as a lifestyle, these do not belong to this category. In my opinion, that so many professing Christians read/watch GoT with enjoyment and positive appraisal (even to the point of defending it) should inspire some serious and honest thinking.

"The Evangelium has not abrogated legends; it has hallowed them, especially the 'happy ending.' The Christian has still to work, with mind as well as body, to suffer, hope, and die; but he may now perceive that all his bents and faculties have a purpose, which can be redeemed. So great is the bounty with which he has been treated that he may now, perhaps, fairly dare to guess that in Fantasy he may actually assist in the effoliation and multiple enrichment of creation." ~ J. R. R. Tolkien, On Fairy Stories. 

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(Some) Church Fathers on Divine Simplicity

What follows is a collection of quotations from some Church Fathers on the topic of divine simplicity, with no commentary (thanks to Daniel Vecchio for listing many of them). I thought that it might be useful to have them listed on a webpage. I may add more quotations with time as I find them. 

"He is a simple, uncompounded Being, without diverse members, and altogether like, and equal to himself, since He is wholly understanding, and wholly spirit, and wholly thought, and wholly intelligence, and wholly reason, and wholly hearing, and wholly seeing, and wholly light, and the whole source of all that is good— even as the religious and pious are wont to speak concerning God." ~ Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 2.13.3.

"For God, who compounded all things to give them being, is not compound, nor of similar nature to the things made by Him through the Word. Far be the thought. For He is simple essence, in which quality is not, nor, as James says, 'any variableness or shadow of turning' (James 1:17). Accordingly, if it is shown that it is not from virtue (for in God there is no quality, neither is there in the Son), then He must be proper to God's essence. And this you will certainly admit if mental apprehension is not utterly destroyed in you. But what is that which is proper to and identical with the essence of God, and an Offspring from it by nature, if not by this very fact coessential with Him that begot it? For this is the distinctive relation of a Son to a Father, and he who denies this, does not hold that the Word is Son in nature and in truth." ~ Athanasius, Ad Afros Epistola Synodica, 8. 

"God, however, has no body, but simple essence: no parts, but an all-embracing whole: nothing quickened, but everything living. God is therefore all life, and all one, not compounded of parts, but perfect in His simplicity, and, as the Father, must be Father to His begotten in all that He Himself is, for the perfect birth of the Son makes Him perfect Father in all that He has. So, if He is proper Father to the Son, the Son must possess all the properties of the Father. Yet how can this be, if the Son has not the quality of prescience, if there is anything from His Author, which is wanting in His birth? To say that there is one of God's properties which He has not, is almost equivalent to saying that He has none of them. And what is proper to God, if not the knowledge of the future, a vision, which embraces the invisible and unborn world, and has within its scope that which is not yet, but is to be?" ~ Hilary of Poitiers, On the Trinity, 9.61.

"Do you worship what you know or what you do not know? If I answer, I worship what I know, they immediately reply, What is the essence of the object of worship? Then, if I confess that I am ignorant of the essence, they turn on me again and say, So you worship you know not what. I answer that the word to know has many meanings. We say that we know the greatness of God, His power, His wisdom, His goodness, His providence over us, and the justness of His judgment; but not His very essence. The question is, therefore, only put for the sake of dispute. For he who denies that he knows the essence does not confess himself to be ignorant of God, because our idea of God is gathered from all the attributes which I have enumerated. But God, he says, is simple, and whatever attribute of Him you have reckoned as knowable is of His essence. But the absurdities involved in this sophism are innumerable. When all these high attributes have been enumerated, are they all names of one essence? And is there the same mutual force in His awfulness and His loving-kindness, His justice and His creative power, His providence and His foreknowledge, and His bestowal of rewards and punishments, His majesty and His providence? In mentioning any one of these do we declare His essence? If they say, yes, let them not ask if we know the essence of God, but let them enquire of us whether we know God to be awful, or just, or merciful. These we confess that we know. If they say that essence is something distinct, let them not put us in the wrong on the score of simplicity. For they confess themselves that there is a distinction between the essence and each one of the attributes enumerated. The operations are various, and the essence simple, but we say that we know our God from His operations, but do not undertake to approach near to His essence. His operations come down to us, but His essence remains beyond our reach." ~ Basil of Caesarea, Letter, 234.

"Let them tell me in what sense Paul says, 'Now we know in part' (1 Cor. 13) do we know His essence in part, as knowing parts of His essence? No. This is absurd; for God is without parts. But do we know the whole essence?" ~ Basil of Caesarea, Letter, 235.

"The Divine Nature, then, is boundless and hard to understand, and all that we can comprehend of Him is His boundlessness; even though one may conceive that because He is of a simple Nature He is therefore either wholly incomprehensible or perfectly comprehensible. For let us farther enquire what is implied by is of a simple Nature? For it is quite certain that this simplicity is not itself its nature, just as composition is not by itself the essence of compound beings." ~ Gregory Nazianzen, Oration, 45.

"For our statement does not hereby violate the simplicity of the Godhead, since community and specific difference are not essence, so that the conjunction of these should render the subject composite. But on the one side the essence by itself remains whatever it is in nature, being what it is, while, on the other, every one possessed of reason would say that these — community and specific difference — were among the accompanying conceptions and attributes: since even in us men there may be discerned some community with the Divine Nature, but Divinity is not the more on that account humanity, or humanity Divinity. For while we believe that God is good, we also find this character predicated of men in Scripture. But the special signification in each case establishes a distinction in the community arising from the use of the homonymous term. For He Who is the fountain of goodness is named from it; but he who has some share of goodness also partakes in the name, and God is not for this reason composite, that He shares with men the title of good. From these considerations it must obviously be allowed that the idea of community is one thing, and that of essence another, and we are not on that account any the more to maintain composition or multiplicity of parts in that simple Nature which has nothing to do with quantity, because some of the attributes we contemplate in It are either regarded as special, or have a sort of common significance." ~ Gregory of Nyssa, Against Eunomius, 12.5.

"'God,' so far as the human mind can form an idea, is the name of that nature or substance which is above all things. 'Father' is a word expressive of a secret and ineffable mystery. When you hear the word 'God,' you must understand thereby a substance without beginning, without end, simple, uncompounded, invisible, incorporeal, ineffable, inappreciable, which has in it nothing which has been either added or created" ~ Rufinus, Commentary on the Apostles' Creed, 4.

"But far be it from being so, since in truth in the Godhead is absolutely simple essence, and therefore to be is there the same as to be wise. But if to be is there the same as to be wise, then the Father is not wise by that wisdom which He begot; otherwise He did not beget it, but it begot Him. For what else do we say when we say, that to Him to be is the same as to be wise, unless that He is by that whereby He is wise? Wherefore, that which is the cause to Him of being wise, is itself also the cause to Him that He is; and accordingly, if the wisdom which He begot is the cause to Him of being wise, it is also the cause to Him that He is; and this cannot be the case, except either by begetting or by creating Him. But no one ever said in any sense that wisdom is either the begetter or the creator of the Father; for what could be more senseless? Therefore both the Father Himself is wisdom, and the Son is in such way called the wisdom of the Father, as He is called the light of the Father; that is, that in the same manner as light from light, and yet both one light, so we are to understand wisdom of wisdom, and yet both one wisdom; and therefore also one essence, since, in God, to be, is the same as to be wise. For what to be wise is to wisdom, and to be able is to power, and to be eternal is to eternity, and to be just to justice, and to be great to greatness, that being itself is to essence. And since in the Divine simplicity, to be wise is nothing else than to be, therefore wisdom there is the same as essence." ~ Augustine, On the Trinity, 7.1.2.

"When, therefore, it is said of the Holy Spirit, 'For He shall not speak of Himself; but whatsoever He shall hear, that shall He speak,' so much the more is a simple nature, which is simple [uncompounded] in the truest sense, to be either understood or believed, which in its extent and sublimity far surpasses the nature of our minds. For there is mutability in our mind, which comes by learning to the perception of what it was previously ignorant of, and loses by unlearning what it formerly knew; and is deceived by what has a similarity to truth, so as to approve of the false in place of the true, and is hindered by its own obscurity as by a kind of darkness from arriving at the truth. And so that substance is not in the truest sense simple, to which being is not identical with knowing; for it can exist without the possession of knowledge. But it cannot be so with that divine substance, for it is what it has. And on this account it has not knowledge in any such way as that the knowledge whereby it knows should be to it one thing, and the essence whereby it exists another; but both are one. Nor ought that to be called both, which is simply one." ~ Augustine, Tractate on the Gospel of John, 99.

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Last edited: 12/04/2021

Augustine and Luther on the "Offensive" Beauty of the Truth

The brightest redemption 
through the darkest death.
The greatest light
through the blackest darkness. 
Albrecht Dürer, The Great Calvary.

There are two very interesting passages that Augustine and Luther offer in Confessions (397-400) and Lectures on Romans (1515-1516) respectively. They describe truth as offensive to fallen man. More specifically, Augustine and Luther believe that fallen mankind loves the truth when it appears attractive, while it hates the truth when it appears unattractive and when it is rebuking. I have always found these passages fascinating. 

In Confessions 10.23.33, Augustine says that all men seek after happiness. Nevertheless, not all men seek true happiness, but only what they perceive to be true happiness.  In fact, "a happy life is joy in the truth." But God is Truth, and "this is a joying in Thee, Who art the Truth, O God my light, health of my countenance, my God." 

For Augustine, these considerations prompt a question: "why doth 'truth generate hatred,' and the man of Thine, preaching the truth, become an enemy to them?" (10.23.34). The entire passage needs to be quoted entirely in order to provide its entire content and context. Moreover, I think it is so beautiful and insightful that it deserves to be quoted at length. 

"But why doth 'truth generate hatred,' and the man of Thine, preaching the truth, become an enemy to them? whereas a happy life is loved, which is nothing else but joying in the truth; unless that truth is in that kind loved, that they who love anything else would gladly have that which they love to be the truth: and because they would not be deceived, would not be convinced that they are so? Therefore do they hate the truth for that thing's sake which they loved instead of the truth. They love truth when she enlightens, they hate her when she reproves. For since they would not be deceived, and would deceive, they love her when she discovers herself unto them, and hate her when she discovers them. Whence she shall so repay them, that they who would not be made manifest by her, she both against their will makes manifest, and herself becometh not manifest unto them. Thus, thus, yea thus doth the mind of man, thus blind and sick, foul and ill-favoured, wish to be hidden, but that aught should be hidden from it, it wills not. But the contrary is requited it, that itself should not be hidden from the Truth; but the Truth is hid from it. Yet even thus miserable, it had rather joy in truths than in falsehoods. Happy then will it be, when, no distraction interposing, it shall joy in that only Truth, by Whom all things are true." ~ Augustine, Confessions, 10.23.34. Emphasis added.

Two things have to be kept in mind while reading this passage: 1) mankind is fallen into sin, and 2) the truth Augustine is referring to is God. Augustine is giving us an explanation of how the fall of mankind into sin has affected men to the point of corrupting not only their ethical nature but also damaging their epistemological power to the point of willful self-deception. The African tells us that men, because of their fallenness, prefer convincing themselves that what they believe is be the truth even when that is shown not to be the case, revealing that "because they would not be deceived, would not be convinced that they are so." This leads them to "hate the truth for that thing's sake which they loved instead of the truth." When it comes to the true Truth, that is God, "they love truth when she enlightens, they hate her when she reproves." This is because, for Augustine, the good news of the gospel of God also contains a "bad news," that is, that man is sinful and in desperate need of the Saviour (for example, see On the Grace of Christ and Original Sin, 1.8.9, 1.9.10). When the Truth reveals herself, she always necessarily reveals man for what he is, that is, fallen and sinful. Thus, fallen men love the potential benefits they can have from the Truth, but they hate her when the Truth tells them what they are and what they need, or "they love her when she discovers herself unto them, and hate her when she discovers them." 

I think this passage of Augustine can also be read in this way. All men love the idea of having the truth, of believing the truth, and of knowing the truth: "I ask any one, had he rather joy in truth, or in falsehood? They will as little hesitate to say 'in the truth,' as to say 'that they desire to be happy' ... I have met with many that would deceive; who would be deceived, no one. Where then did they know this happy life, save where they know the truth also? For they love it also, since they would not be deceived" (10.23.33). However, the truth of God rebukes man in his sinful state, and rightly so, because man needs to know and acknowledge his misery before properly understanding his need for the gospel. When this happens, natural man hates the truth, even though he loves the general idea of knowing the truth and the potential benefits of this knowledge. And this hatred always appears in the case of natural, unregenerate men whose fallen spiritual state cannot but manifest itself into hatred for the Truth. Therefore, even though all men love the idea of truth, fallen men hate the Truth, which will always appear to them in a different if not opposite way than they expected. 

My previous statement seems further expounded by another Augustinian passage that, again, I will quote at length. Here, Augustine talks about divine Wisdom curing mankind's spiritual wounds, "some of them by their opposites, some of them by their likes" (On Christian Doctrine, 1.14.13), "opposites" which he elsewhere says "might be called in Latin ‘oppositions,’ or, to speak more accurately, ‘contrapositions’" (The City of God, 11.18), thus creating "an exquisite poem set off with antitheses" (Ivi).

"As the use of remedies is the way to health, so this remedy took up sinners to heal and restore them. And just as surgeons, when they bind up wounds, do it not in a slovenly way, but carefully, that there may be a certain degree of neatness in the binding, in addition to its mere usefulness, so our medicine, Wisdom, was by His assumption of humanity adapted to our wounds, curing some of them by their opposites, some of them by their likes. And just as he who ministers to a bodily hurt in some cases applies contraries, as cold to hot, moist to dry, etc., and in other cases applies likes, as a round cloth to a round wound, or an oblong cloth to an oblong wound, and does not fit the same bandage to all limbs, but puts like to like; in the same way the Wisdom of God in healing man has applied Himself to his cure, being Himself healer and medicine both in one. Seeing, then, that man fell through pride, He restored him through humility. We were ensnared by the wisdom of the serpent: we are set free by the foolishness of God. Moreover, just as the former was called wisdom, but was in reality the folly of those who despised God, so the latter is called foolishness, but is true wisdom in those who overcome the devil. We used our immortality so badly as to incur the penalty of death: Christ used His mortality so well as to restore us to life. The disease was brought in through a woman's corrupted soul: the remedy came through a woman's virgin body. To the same class of opposite remedies it belongs, that our vices are cured by the example of His virtues. On the other hand, the following are, as it were, bandages made in the same shape as the limbs and wounds to which they are applied: He was born of a woman to deliver us who fell through a woman: He came as a man to save us who are men, as a mortal to save us who are mortals, by death to save us who were dead. And those who can follow out the matter more fully, who are not hurried on by the necessity of carrying out a set undertaking, will find many other points of instruction in considering the remedies, whether opposites or likes, employed in the medicine of Christianity." ~ On Christian Doctrine, 1.14.13.

There are several passages where Luther adopts a very similar idea and language to those of Augustine. Especially (but not exclusively) in his early career, Luther often used what is usually called the sub contra specie principle (under opposite appearances). Truth always reveals itself in the opposite way that man expects. Therefore, man always wants and expects the opposite of what God has actually revealed.

"It is characteristic of us that we love truth and righteousness. Hence, we cling to truth when it has an attractive appearance, but we despise it when it appears to be unattractive–as it always does, as we can see in Christ who 'had no form or comeliness' (Isa. 53:2). So it is the case for every truth that goes counter to our thinking." ~ Luther, Lectures on Romans, 96.

Elsewhere in the same work, Luther provides some more comments on how Christ perfectly exemplifies this sub contra specie principle. Moreover and very interestingly, he mentions Augustine himself and how God salvifically worked in his life in a similar way.

"In this way he [God] acted in his proper work [see also Luther's distinction between opera aliena and opera propria, alien work and proper work], in that which is the foremost of his works and the pattern of all of them, i.e., in Christ. When he wanted to glorify him, he made him die, he caused him to be confounded and to descend into hell, contrary in the utmost to what all his disciples fervently wished and hoped in their devoutest thoughts. So he dealt with Blessed Augustine, when he let him fall deeper and deeper into error despite the prayer of his mother, so that he might grant it to her beyond her asking. And so he deals with all saints.” ~ Luther, Lectures on Romans, 242. Emphasis added.

As in Augustine, these upside down expectations are caused by man's sinfulness.

"We must always be ready to surrender our point of view so that we do not stumble on this rock of offense (cf. Rom, 9:32; Isa. 8:14), i.e., the truth which in humility stands over against us and is contrary to what we think it ought to be. We are so presumptuous as to believe that only what we think is the truth, and we want to hear and see as truth only what we agree with and approve. But this cannot be." ~ Luther, Lectures on Romans, 103.

Of course, these considerations have implications on how Luther sees salvation. The Reformer takes 1 Cor 1:20–31 as a paradigm ( for example, in thesis 19). God, to oppose the expectation of the Gentiles, purposely determined to show his wisdom in the foolishness (mind the opposite terms) of a crucified Messiah. God decreed to show his power through the weakness of the scandal of a crucified Saviour, in opposition to the expectation of a mighty, earthly saviour. Not that the message of Christ crucified is scandal and foolishness in itself, but in the perception of fallen man. Fallen mankind desire power and glory, even though he is undeserving, while the incarnate Word forsook power and glory in order to become weak and humble.  

“For our good is hidden and that so deeply that it is hidden under its opposite. Thus our life is hidden under death, self-love under self-hatred, glory under shame, salvation under perdition, the kingdom under banishment, heaven under hell, wisdom under foolishness, righteousness under sin, strength under weakness. And generally any yes we say to any good under a no, in order that our faith may be anchored in God.” ~ Luther, Lectures on Romans, 264.

I have argued elsewhere that a very good case can be made to show that Luther is relying on Augustine for the formulation of his sub contra specie principle. Even in the case these parallels do not prove a direct influence of Augustine on Luther on this point, in my opinion, they show at the very least an indirect influence. After all, the principle here discussed powerfully appears in Luther's Heidelberg Disputation (for example, theses 3-4), theses that Luther claims to have deduced "from St. Paul ... and also from St. Augustine, his most trustworthy interpreter" (Preface). Furthermore, it is clear from Luther's own early works that he has in mind a substantial Augustinian framework while writing. 

Second picture: Augustine, by Sandro Botticelli.

Third picture: Luther, by Lucas Cranach the Elder.

©

The Immutable God of the Bible: Considerations

 

"When someone starts to tinker with the doctrine of God, many simply assume that very clever people are engaged in improving tradition." ~ C. R. Trueman, in God without Passions: A Reader, 16.

From several conversations I have had and comments I have read on social media, I have noticed that many today's revisionists of the doctrine of God (those who reject the classical attributes of God, such as immutability, impassibility, etc.) often like to say that, since one of the themes of a Biblical passage (such as Mal. 3:6 and Psalm 102) is God's relational faithfulness, then the passage tells us nothing or little about the being of God, thus giving no or little basis to make ontological predications about God (here, I will use mutualism and theistic personalism as synonyms). However, this attitude is also present in many academic environments, as exemplified, one instance among many, in N. Wolterstorff's famous "God Everlasting," in God and the Good, 181-203. I wonder if this rather widespread assumption is also caused by the fabricated antithesis that many place between exegesis and systematic theology (as expounded, among many examples that could be mentioned, in the words of N. T. Wright; see Steven Duby for a much better perspective on this). I personally believe that that is one factor. Differently, good and Biblical classical theism does not engage in this sort of unsubstantiated claim (and the ones that will be expounded in here). Rather, it exegetes the Scripture in its entirety, whatever the passage may be.

The conclusions of the assumption mentioned above are a non sequitur. That God's faithfulness might be the main theme of a Biblical passage does not logically imply that that passage does not offer substantial material for our systematic theology of God. Carl F. H. Henry comments Wolterstorff's claims as follows.

"The prophet [Malachi] could surely have found, as Old Testament writers do elsewhere, a less circuitous way of stressing God's unswerving fidelity, had that been his exclusive concern ... Furthermore, Wolterstorff's insistence that 'no ontological claim whatever is being made' [in Mal. 3:6 and Psalm 102] prompts the question whether divine moral consistency is to be conceived as a nonontological predication: constancy of nature is what immutability is all about ... The second text cited by Wolterstorff is Psalm 102:37 ... We should note, unlike perishing and changeable things and creatures, God, adds the Psalmist, is unchanging: 'Thou art the same.' The declaration that God remains 'the same' would be an odd and curiously indirect way of saying that God has unending existence. Wolterstorff's interpretation rests on his antecedent bias against divine immutability." ~ C. F. H. Henry, God, Revelation, and Authority, Vol. V, 293.

Then, Henry continues by quoting a passage from Stephen Charnock's commentary on Psalm 102 as found in his famous The Existenceence and Attributes of God. In this Psalm, God and creation are clearly compared ontologically, as Charnock's contextual exegesis shows

"'Thou art the same' (Psalm 102:27). The essence of God, with all the perfections of his nature, are pronounced the same, without any variation from eternity to eternity; so that the text doth not only assert the eternal duration of God, but his immutability in that duration. His eternity is signified in that expression, 'Thou shalt endure;' his immutability in this, 'Thou art the same.' To endure, argues indeed his immutability as well as eternity; for what endures, is not changed, and what is changed, doth not endure; but 'Thou art the same' doth more fully signify it. He could not be the same if he could be changed into any other thing than what he is; the Psalmist therefore puts not thou halt been, or shalt be, but thou art the same, without any alteration. 'Thou art the same;' that is, the same God; the same in essence and nature; the same in will and purpose. Thou dost change all other things as thou pleanest, but thou art immutable in every respect, and receivest no shadow of change, though never so light and small. The Psalmist here alludes to the name Jehovah, I Am; and doth not only ascribe immutability to God, but exclude everything else from partaking in that perfection. All things else are tottering; God sees all other things in continual motion under his feet, like water passing away and no more seen; while he remains fixed and immovable; his wisdom and power, his knowledge and will, are always the same. His essence can receive no alteration, neither by itself, nor by any external cause; whereas other things either naturally decline to destruction, pass from one term to another, till they come to their period; or shall at the last day be wrapped up, after God hath completed his will in them and by them, as a man doth a garment he intends to repair and transform to another use. So that in the text, God, as immutable, is opposed to all creatures as perishing and changeable." ~ S. Charnock, The Existence and Attributes of God, Discourse 5, On the Immutability of God.

The question-begging assumption at issue also goes against common sense in that it fabricates an unnecessary and unrealistic airtight separation between "being" and "relationship," between "nature" and "action," between "essence" and "will." In fact, we intuitively know that the essential character of person x is also predicated by the kind of things x does or likes and by the kinds of persons that x communes with. For example, if x has a flourishing and functional marriage with woman y (a woman that has a certain specific essential character, specific attitudes, habits, specific, etc.) this tells us a lot about the kind of person x himself is. Similarly, if x has dysfunctional relationships caused by bad repeated actions and habits, this tells us a lot about the kind of person x is. Such radical separation between "nature" and "relationship" is counterintuitive, artificial, and it does not fit at all within a Scriptural framework. It is a metaphysical assumption imported in the Scriptures that, as far as I know, mutualists are very far from having demonstrated. As Jonathan Edwards pointed out, the acts and volitions that our nature produces through our will guided by our mind (including the acts and volitions of God's relationships with His people) are not causally isolated monads that tell us nothing or little about the kind of being we are. Rather, the necessary moral connection between a being's nature and his acts and volitions offer us much substantial information about the essential nature of that being. Common people intuitively make a necessary connection between a virtuous or vicious action with a virtuous or vicious nature. This necessary moral connection between an action and its moral agent is established with good reason, since choices are our properties, they belong to us, and they represent us, and, in a sense, they are us (see Edwards, Freedom of the Will, 182, 320-333, 427-428; Original Sin, 224). And if this is true for man, this is even truer for God who is perfect and lacks nothing and whose redeeming works always faithfully represent His nature.

These are some of the reasons why Mal. 3:6 and Jam. 1:17 tells us: "I am the Lord, I change not; therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed," and "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning;" that is, God does not consume the sons of Jacob and is always ready to listen and answer prayers (God's merciful faithfulness) because He does not change in His being, and conversely, since He does not change in His being, so His plan of salvation that "he hath purposed in himself" even "before the foundation of the world" (Eph. 1:9, 4) does not change. Baines and Garrick comment Mal. 3:6 as follows.

"Mal. 3:6 is parallel in structure, each term of the first clause corresponding to one in the second. Thus 'I' corresponds to 'you,' 'the LORD' to 'sons of Jacob,' and 'do not change' corresponds to 'are not consumed.' Further, these clauses relate to each other as cause and effect. This is shown by the first word of the verse ('for') and the logical conjunction ('therefore') that introduces the second clause. It is because the LORD does not change that the sons of Jacob are not consumed. God’s claim of changelessness is not limited by the text. It is not any one attribute in particular to which he refers. God is speaking of his one, simple nature as God, YHWH." ~ R. S. Baines and S. Garrick, in Confessing the Impassible God, 132-133

Then, the two authors go on by quoting John Calvin's commentary on Mal. 3:6.

"Here the Prophet more clearly reproves and checks the impious waywardness of the people; for God, after having said that he would come and send a Redeemer, though not such as would satisfy the Jews, now claims to himself what justly belongs to him, and says that he changes not, because he is God. Under the name Jehovah, God reasons from his own nature; for he sets himself, as we have observed in our last lecture, in opposition to mortals; nor is it a wonder that God here disclaims all inconsistency, since the impostor Balaam was constrained to celebrate God’s immutable constancy — 'For he is not God,' he says, 'who changes,' or varies, 'like man.' (Num 23:19.) We now then understand the force of the words, I am Jehovah. But he adds as an explanation, I change not, or, I am not changed ... God continues in his purpose, and is not turned here and there like men who repent of a purpose they have formed, because what they had not thought of comes to their mind, or because they wish undone what they have performed, and seek new ways by which they may retrace their steps. God denies that anything of this kind can take place in him, for he is Jehovah, and changes not, or is not changed." ~ J. Calvin, Commentary on Malachi 3:6.

I find that the theistic personalist assumption in question is in principle quite similar to one of the common objection of the deists of old according to which, since the Bible has a strong historical character, then it cannot contain or teach divine truths and it cannot be therefore divine (I am not comparing mutualists to deists, I am only comparing two of their respective principles). To this kind of asburd objection, Jonathan Edwards answered that "to object against a book's being divine merely because it is historical is a silly objection, just as if that could not be the word of God that gives us an account of what is past, or as though it was not reasonable to suppose that God, in a revelation he should give mankind, would go to give us any relation of the dispensations of his own providence" (Jonathan Edwards, A History of the Work of Redemption, Sermon 13, 284). In a similar way, to object that the Bible is about God's faithfulness and then to conclude that, therefore, classical theism is not thought therein, is an absurd objection that entirely begs the question.

It is easy to see that this question-begging assumption tactically works quite well in favour of the mutualist theist. In fact, what makes the revisionist assumption in question even more implausible is that it would have the rather curious result that the entire Bible tells us little or nothing about God's being, since covenantal language is present throughout the entire Scripture, from Gen. 3:15 to Rev. 21:3. As I hinted above, the modern mutualist's move is quite similar to the move of Edwards' deistic adversary: as the deist made the Bible exclusively and strictly about human history (which supposedly rules out divine origin and intervention), so the mutualist makes the Bible exclusively and strictly about God's relation to His people intended in a mutualistic way (thus supposedly ruling out at the very outset the classical Scriptural understanding of God). Thus, by assuming this mutualistic metaphysical presupposition, the mutualist naturally excludes from Scripture any content that contrast with that assumes framework, including, of course, sound and Biblical classical theism. In fact (and quite tellingly), the mutualist does not claim that the specific passages in question (such as 1 Sam. 15:29, Psalm 102, Mal. 3:6, Jam. 1:17, from here called A) do not teach anything at all about God's being, but the mutualist claims that these passages do that only within the limits of the mutualistic and mutabilist assumption here discussed. Let us further analyse this last point.

In addition to what I have expounded in the previous paragraph, mutualists often point at passages such as Gen. 18:23-33 and Exo. 32:7-14 (from here called B) where Abraham and Moses pray the Lord for mercy. Usually, the mutualist approaches these texts with an attitude very similar to the one that positivists have when it comes to science and empirical evidence: they claim a sort of absolute objectivity and neutrality. The concept of "a natural reading of the passage" is often mentioned, that is, a "natural reading" of these passages that supposedly teaches the mutability of God, at least in certain respects. Often, little or none exegesis is given for this kind of passages, and a mutualistic view of God is simply assumed as the clear teaching of the passages. However, when it comes to passages such as B and similar, the "natural reading" approach conveniently disappears, and it is thoroughly substituted by acrobatic exegesis aimed at not making those passages saying what they say, that is, that God is immutable in His being. This is one side of the arbitrary and self-contradictory exegetical approach of old and new theistic mutualism. 

John Calvin
(1509-1564).

Thomas Aquinas
(1225-1274).

Another side of the unreasonableness of this mutualistic exegetical approach is evident also from another point of view. Passages B are descriptive passages. With this, I mean that they record some specific historical events, in our cases, God's conversations in time with two of His chosen men (Abraham and Moses, respectfully). In this conversations, God talks the way a man talks, and inescapably so, since man is the inferior party in these interactions and, therefore, God has to adapt His revelation to man's epistemological limits. Therefore, God reveals Himself through discursive language because man cannot understand or communicate differently, man cannot transcend his own epistemological limits. But God, even though eternal and immutable, can and does enter into His temporal and changeable creation by "accommodating" his revelation to man's capacity and by expressing His eternal and immutable will through temporal and created words. This is the reason why He uses expressions that convey changeableness, such as "repenting," that is, He does that for understanding purposes to favour the comprehension of limited creatures, and not in order to make ontological statements about His supposed mutable being. This is God's language of accommodation that Aquinas and Calvin explain. Here is what Helm says.

"[In the Bible] the language that asserts or implies change in God invariably has to do with divine-human dialogue, to those situations in which God speaks to and acts on behalf of his people and his people speak and act in return ... It is a logically necessary condition of dialogue between persons that each of the partners should appear to act and react in time. If dialogue between God and humankind is to be real and not make-believe, then God cannot represent himself (in his role as dialogue partner) as wholly immutable, for then it would be impossible for him to elicit certain kinds of responses from his people. His purpose for his people, on whose behalf he intervenes in time, cannot be expressed in wholly immutable fashion. The fundamental point is that such language is not dispensable but necessary. If a timelessly eternal God is to communicate to embodied intelligent creatures who exist in space and time and to bring about his purpose through them, and particularly to gain certain kind of responses from them, as a part of the process he must do so by representing himself in ways that are not literally true." ~ Paul Helm, "Is God Bound by Time?," in God Under Fire: Modern Scholarship Reinvents God, 128-129.

Helm then goes on by explaining that God's language of accommodation is not a purely speculative and metaphysical principle imported in the Scripture, as many mutualists wrongly claim. Rather, it reflects what God and His salvific plan are all about for us.

The language of change that God uses of himself is not the whole story about God any more than the use of anthropomorphic language is. Nor is it there for rhetorical or ornamental effect, but its use takes us to the heart of biblical religion. So God accommodates himself to the human condition, and statements such as 'God repented' are false if taken literally, because God cannot literally repent, and cannot do so. ~ Ibid., 129 (Helm continues by saying that such non-literall expressions do not imply any insincerity from God inasmuch as such supposed insincerity only follow if the literalistic approach is assumed).

However, what the mutualist does with these descriptive passages (or divine-human dialogue passages, as Helm calls them) is that he deduces normative (in the sense of positive) truths regarding God's supposed mutability. In other words, since God in the passages in question uses human language that is inevitably discursive and extended in time, they then conclude that God is mutable in His mind and in His being. But these descriptive statements about revelational divine events taking place in time do not necessarily imply normative truths about God's supposed changeableness, and this becomes even truer if we consider that in these passages this aspect of God's being is not addressed. That description necessarily implies normativity is a rather basic fallacy, but one not uncommon among the claims and exegeses of theistic personalists. This is not to say that passages B tells us nothing about God's nature, but the fact is that what we can gather from passages B is not that God is mutable, nor that there is contingency is Him, but merely that He is a gracious God that has pity to His people and listens to their prayers. All these things do not in any way necessarily imply any mutability in Him.

Moreover, as if what has been said so far is not enough, there is something more. Also passages A are descriptive passages which contain some history. In this sense, most of the Bible is historical either in the sense that it records some historical past event or that it has to do with history in some other way (for instance, eschatology). However, the point here is that passages A are not only descriptive, but in them God's being in its immutable aspect is directly addressed and described. Since this is the case, we can deduce from them positive truths about God's immutable essence. However, the mutualist rejects them on the basis of the abovementioned unreasonable and question-begging assumption according to which a passage that teaches something about God's covenantal faithfulness tells us little or nothing about the immutable nature of God. Therefore, the mutualist ignores the Bible passages that tell us positive truths about God as being immutable (passages A) while, at the same time, making the peculiar claim that passages B where God "accommodate himself" to man's understanding presumedly tell us positive truths about His supposed mutability of nature, when they actually do not do that. The mutualist often says that the Biblical ontological predications about God have to be limited by the context, and rightly so, since context is essential. However, the irony is that the mutualist claim to deduce ontological predictions about God's supposed mutable being from passages B where not only God's presumed changeableness of being is nowhere indicated, but passages B are actually those passages where most clearly both the context and the content limit the ontological predications that can be made about God. In fact, what we can gather from passages B is that God is a gracious God and that He listens to the prayers of His people. They certainly do not allow us to conclude that He is mutable inasmuch as said divine gracefulness does not in any way implies the mutability that the mutualist wants to read in such passages.

Also here, it is easy to see that such inconsistent exegeses work tacitly in favour of the theistic mutualism. In fact, since God cannot but use human discursive language in order to reveal Himself to limited creatures, and since from this isolated fact the mutualist fallaciously deduces ontological predictions such as God's mutability and passibility, then, with this inconsistent principle assumed, every instance in the Bible where God talks to someone by using human language (basically almost everywhere) punctually becomes an occasion for the mutualist's cry: "See! The 'natural reading' of the passage shows that God is mutable." This incoherent way of reading the Bible is one of the reasons why many mutualists feel free to accuse classical theists to limit themselves only to few verses, while they supposedly read the Biblical account in its entirety for what it "naturally" conveys. Of course, as shown in the previous paragraphs, this last statement (which incarnates the abovementioned "natural reading" chimera) truly means that the mutualist reads ontological mutabilist ideas about God's essential nature where there are none (passages B), while either ignoring or mutilating other verses (passages A) that directly address and describe God's being as immutable. No wonder, then, that once this self-contradictory mutualistic framework is assumed, the Bible assumes the misguided appearance of supporting theistic personalism.

Keeping in mind what has been said so far (particularly regarding the right way of reading passages B), the self-contradictory nature of the exegetical approach of personalistic theism appears even more bizarre if we consider the absurdities that it would imply if coherently applied to the Scripture. For instance, since God asked Cain where his brother Abel was (Gen. 4:9), and since such superficial reading of this question "implies" ignorance and unawareness in God (as a superficial reading of passages B "implies" mutability in Him), then using the same mutualistic approach, God did not really know where Abel was. Similarly, He really did not know where Adam was when He said: "Where art thou" (Gen. 3:9). Of course, many mutualists would reject the logical consequences of their literalistic approach to Scriptures, but this only in contradiction with their own dysfunctional assumptions used to read the Bible.

Anselm of Canterbury (1033/4-1109).

Many personalist theists accuse classical theists to arbitrarily appealing to "mystery." In light of the considerations mentioned above, it seems to me that the real problem is that for much of today's theistic mutualism there is either no or little mystery in our knowledge of the divine Being. For many mutualists, if something about God does not seem to fit into the limits of our human limited perception and unaided reason, then we have to make it fit, so that any kind of mystery may disappear, with the result of radically changing the doctrine of God that Christian orthodox believers and thinkers have endorsed for about 2000 years. In this sense, mutualism often seems to entail a modified version of rationalism according to which God has to be comprehended (that is, fully grasped and embraced by the human mind) and therefore put within the limits of man's reason and perception. This attitude is opposed to letting our reason to understand (that is, to gain a coherent knowledge of Him within man's epistemological and creaturely limits and to the extent that is given to us) the God of the Scriptures who is "a being than which nothing greater can be thought" (with all the other theological truths about God's nature that this statement entails, as shown in Anselm's Monologion and Proslogion).

Here, I have offered several initial (and at points general) considerations about the topic of God's immutability. I hope to show in the next blog posts even more how the Scriptures clearly teach the immutability of God's being and plan (and the latter does not necessarily exclude the former, as mutualists fallaciously claim). If I will have the time to do that, I will do it also aided by the giants of the past, as usual. This is another aspect where much contemporary theistic personalism is seriously lacking: a sufficient and/or correct understanding and appreciation of the enormous exegetical, theological, and philosophical evidence that the classical theistic tradition has to offer to its support. However, a coherently Biblical view of the Church (and of the consequent development of dogma) acknowledges the importance of properly knowing what the orthodox believers of the past really thought, and to get to know their Biblical and theological arguments in order to understand why they believed what they believed. Otherwise, the danger of chronological snobbery would be always upon us. In addition to the inconsistent and arbitrary approaches mentioned above, chronological snobbery usually makes grandiose claims about the classical theistic tradition (such as the unsubstantiated claim according to which classical theism does not have and has not offered Biblical support for its teachings). Moreover, while usually accusing classical theists of appealing to authority, many mutualists among the chronological snobs arbitrarily limit themselves only to a selected group of innovations from the last few decades (I myself have witnessed more than once individuals appealing to Richard Bauckham and to the highly controversial N. T. Wright as they have, for some inexplicable reason, the ultimate authority on everything), and attitude that almost always prevents a proper understanding of the past.

Not that knowing this history and writers is in and of itself sufficient (otherwise, we fall into the opposite extreme of the chronological snobs). Rather, the knowledge and understanding of the theological and Scriptural arguments they offer in support of classical theism are what interests us. What is needed is a posture of humility and teachableness, and not the arrogance of an unhelpful sense of intellectual superiority fallaciously dictated by the mere fact to be chronologically placed after (a section of) the classical tradition. Such arrogance is even aggravated when this tradition is not really known or understood. Finally, this attitude will turn against itself because, when the "future will arrive," the chronological snobs of the present might be snubbed by the chronological snobs of the future.

"Let us, therefore, say nothing of those who, with an over carnal mind, have thought the nature of the Word of God, and the Wisdom, which, remaining in herself, makes all things new, whom we call the only Son of God ... to be changeable." ~ Augustine of Hippo, On the Trinity, 2.8.14.

"My days are like a shadow that declineth; and I am withered like grass. But thou, O Lord, shalt endure for ever; and thy remembrance unto all generations ...  I said, O my God, take me not away in the midst of my days: thy years are throughout all generations. Of old hast thou laid the foundation of the earth: and the heavens are the work of thy hands. They shall perish, but thou shalt endure: yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment; as a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed: but thou art the same, and thy years shall have no end. The children of thy servants shall continue, and their seed shall be established before thee." ~ Psalm 102: 11-12, 24-28.

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