A Theology of the Church for the Third Millennium: A Franciscan Approach (Studies in Systematic Theology)

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A Theology of the Church for the Third Millennium

Studies in Systematic Theology Series Editors

Stephen Bevans S.V.D., Catholic Theological Union, Chicago Miikka Ruokanen, University of Helsinki and Nanjing Union, Theological Seminary Advisory Board

Veli-Matti Kärkkäinen, Fuller Theological Seminary Jesse Mugambi, University of Nairobi Rachel Zhu Xiaohong, Fudan University, Shanghai Wanda Deifelt, Luther College

VOLUME 2

A Theology of the Church for the Third Millennium A Franciscan Approach

By

Kenan Osborne

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2009

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Osborne, Kenan B. A theology of the church for the Third Millennium : a Franciscan approach / by Kenan Osborne. p. cm. — (Studies in systematic theology, ISSN 1876-1518 ; v. 2) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-90-04-17657-7 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Church. 2. Franciscans— Theology. I. Title. BV600.3.O735 2009 262’.02—dc22 2009027552

ISSN 1876-1518 ISBN 978 90 04 17657 7 Copyright 2009 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. printed in the netherlands

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements ............................................................................

vii

Preface

The Structure of this Volume ...........................................

ix

I.

Introductory Clarifications ....................................................

1

II.

A Relational Ecclesiology in the Third Millennium: What Makes the Third Millennium Different? .................................................

19

III. The Historical Starting Point: Ecclesiology from 1500 to the Beginning of the Third Millennium ..............................................................................

53

IV. The Philosophical Starting Point: Relational Being ......................................................................

129

V.

The Theological Starting Point: An Infinitely Free Relational God ........................................

199

A Relational Theology of Creation, Incarnation, and the Sending of the Spirit .................................................

283

A Relational Theology of the Church for the Third Millennium ...................................................................

371

Bibliography ........................................................................................ Subject Index .......................................................................................

433 441

VI.

VII.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This volume could not have been written without the generous influence of many people and institutions. I wish to express my sincere thanks to the members of the Franciscan Province of St. Barbara for their continual encouragement throughout my academic career. I am honored by the members of Brill who accepted this manuscript as an initial part of their new book series, Studies in Systematic Theology. In a particular way, I want to express my gratitude to Maarten Frieswijk who has guided me through the process of publishing in a very careful and encouraging manner. I would also like to express my deepest gratitude for my immediate family which has provided me with so much help and encouragement throughout my life.

PREFACE

THE STRUCTURE OF THIS VOLUME

In the Christian world today, the number of books and essays that deal with a theology of church are numerous. One could even say that ecclesiology has become the main theological focus for Christian theologians since 1960.1 Another book, such as this volume, might appear to be redundant. However, in all of the contemporary material on ecclesiology, there has been some, but not much, discussion on the church from the standpoint of the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition. I would like to offer a more detailed ecclesiology from the lens of the Franciscan tradition and thereby, at least in some small way, add a different voice to the ecclesiological conversations that are in full swing today. The goal of this present volume is modest. I simply want to place on the table of current ecclesial discussions some major issues from the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition that, in my view, could be helpful as far as a renewed theology of church is concerned. The current widespread renewal of ecclesiology is, of course, the context that surrounds and gives meaning to every page of this volume. Since today’s ecclesiological context is profoundly ecumenical, I can even state my focus more accurately. To cover in detail all the ecclesial theologies of the Christian Churches today is beyond my possibility. Consequently, my central focus will be on the Roman Catholic ecclesiological context. Naturally, I will include the ecumenical efforts as best I can, but a full-fledged analysis of the

1 In 1933, Walter Künneth published his volume, Theologie der Auferstehung (Munich: Claudius, 1933), and this volume marked a turning point in the way theologians considered the resurrection. Although Ludwig Ihmels and Carl Stange had already written on the resurrection in 1906 and 1924 respectively, Künneth’s book initiated a marked interest in the resurrection of Jesus. The resurrection not the church became the major theme of theologians up to 1973. In 1973, Eduard Dhanis edited the Acts of a symposium held at Rome, Resurrexit: Actes du symposium international sur la Résurrection (Rome Libreria Editrice Vaticana 1974). In this volume Giuseppe. Ghiberti drew up a bibliography of books, articles, and monographs on the resurrection which were written from 1920 to 1973, “Bibliografia sulla risurrezione di Gesù,” 645–745. Ghiberti listed 1510 entries, which amounts to almost thirty studies per year. Vatican II brought about a change in this theological emphasis, for since Vatican II ecclesiology has become the main theme of contemporary Christian theologians.

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current ecumenical efforts of a renewal of ecclesiology is far too extensive for this single volume. In the pages that follow, I will present in detail the major issues of the Franciscan Tradition that are, in my view, of serious consequence for the Catholic renewal of ecclesiology. However, a legitimate question can be asked: what does the phrase, the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition, mean? The full meaning of this phrase will take place throughout the following chapters, but to provide an introductory orientation to the reader on the meaning of the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition, a few paragraphs will, I hope, be of some value. Since the end of the nineteenth century, there has been a steady interest in Franciscan theology and philosophy. At first, the major interest focused largely on the publication of critical editions of the writings by major Franciscan scholars: the writings of Francis of Assisi, Clare of Assisi, Anthony of Padua, Alexander of Hales, Bonaventure, John Duns Scotus, William of Ockham, Peter John Olivi, Adam Wodeham, and several others.2 The production of critical editions of Franciscan sources is still continuing, but as of now we have been blessed with critical editions of major Franciscan authors. On the basis of these critical editions, contemporary scholars have been able to develop theological and philosophical studies on these Franciscan masters. Thus, a plethora of secondary literature has gradually become available. In this present volume, my focus is limited basically to four major figures: Francis and Clare for the spiritual vision of the Franciscan Tradition, and Bonaventure and John Duns Scotus for the theological development of the spiritual vision. Since 1950, the philosophical positions of Scotus have been examined at great length by highly-esteemed philosophers. Their interest focuses on Scotus’ positions regarding modal logic, synchronic contingency and finite freedom. Some of these contemporary philosophers have concluded that the philosophy of Scotus is of tremendous value for contemporary science, epistemology, and metaphysics.3 Since 1950,

2 The bibliography at the end of this volume contains a detailed listing of these critical editions. 3 Contemporary philosophers who have responded positively to the writings of Scotus are Gustav Bergmann, Logic and Reality (Madison, Wisconsin: The University of Madison Press, 1964); ibid., Meaning and Existence (Madison Wisconsin: The University of Madison Press, 1968); Woopuk Park, “Scotus, Frege, and Bergmann,” The Modern Schoolman, 67 (1972): 259–273; David Armstrong, Nominalism and Realism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980); Roderick M. Chisholm, “Possibility without

the structure of this volume

xi

the studies on Bonaventure have become more theological than philosophical. These theological presentations and analyses have highlighted the newness of Bonaventure’s trinitarian theology, his insights into the natural world, and his emphasis on the historical nature of theology.4 I will try to show that these philosophical and theological issues are of significant value to the current renewal of ecclesiology. In order to bring further clarity to the phrase, Franciscan Intellectual Tradition, I need to emphasize that Christian thought has had from its inception in the New Testament down to the twenty-first century a plurality of traditions. Over the centuries, the Christian Church has been enriched by many theological traditions. In this long history there has never been one theological tradition that acts as the benchmark for all other theological traditions. The Christian Church has one faith, but it enjoys a rich plurality of theological traditions. The Franciscan Intellectual Tradition is simply one of these traditions. Since the plurality of theological traditions in the Christian Churches are all undergirded in one way or another by a variety of philosophical traditions, I have chosen to use the phrase, intellectual tradition in order to indicate that both theological and philosophical positions are part and parcel of each and every Christian tradition. Consequently the word intellectual covers both the philosophical and theological dimensions of these traditions.5

Haecceity,” Studies in Essentialism, ed. Peter French, et al., (Minneapolis, 1986); G. S. Rosenkrantz, Haecceity: An Ontological Essay (Dordrecht, 1933); and Simo Knuuttila, Reforging the Great Chain of Being. Studies of the History of Modal Theories (Dordrecht: Reidel, 1981). 4 In chapter four, I comment in detail on the contemporary authors who are involved in this current evaluation of Bonaventure. 5 At times, theological issues have been held by Catholic scholars as immutable. However, the immutability of some of these issues is based more on philosophy than on theology and therefore not on faith. An instance of this situation can be found in Joachim Salaverri, “De Ecclesia Christi,” Sacrae Theologiae Summa (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 1962). Salaverri formulates one of his theses as follows: “Ecclesia est omnibus necessaria ad aeternam salutem etiam medii necessitate” (879). He judges that the “valor dogmaticus” of his thesis is “Dogma fidei,” and then speaks of the church as a “necessitas medii,” attributing to this aspect a necessity which is “implicite definita vel saltem theologice certa” (883–884). In the Franciscan approach of synchronic and diachronic contingency, nothing created and finite can be called “necessary” including the church. In the Thomistic approach, synchronic contingency is disallowed. Since the church exists, it is synchronically necessary. It is on this basis that Salaverri considers his position on the church as necessitas medii. However, it is the philosophical underpinning of Salaverri’s essay which allows him to describe the church as necessary.

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Since ecclesiology is by its very nature a subaltern part of theology, a study on the theology of church includes, directly or indirectly, those theological issues to which it is subaltern. In this volume, I will consider in some depth the basic theological issues to which ecclesiology is subaltern, namely, the theology of a Trinitarian God, Christology and its relationship to a theology of creation, soteriology and its relationship to both creation and Christology, the mission of the Holy Spirit as well as the issue of sin. Only on the basis of these theological issues is a subaltern ecclesiology possible. I have, therefore, divided the book in the following way.

Chapter One: Introductory Clarifications In this chapter I intend to set the stage in a brief but over-arching way as regards the contemporary renewal process for ecclesiology. Today, certain issues have coalesced and have become the foci for ecclesial renewal. These foci form the immediate context for the current ecclesiological renewal. In this chapter, I also provide a more thorough overview of the major Christian theological traditions, indicating more clearly the significant aspects of this plurality of tradition. Such an overview is meant to contextualize the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition within the larger framework of Christian traditions.

Chapter Two: A Relational Ecclesiology in the Third Millennium: What Makes the Third Millennium Different? In this chapter, that is also introductory, I intend to offer my interpretation of key words and themes that are involved in my use of the phrase relational theology. These themes include the current issues of globalization, multi-culturalism, postmodern thought, the rise of contemporary science, and the increasing respect for a relational view of reality itself. Relationality, even theological relationality, is a characteristic of the majority of cultures in today’s world. Relationality is also a basic theme in Franciscan philosophy and theology. Each of these terms and phrases has a multiplicity of meaning, and it is my intent to explain in some detail my reasons for the use of these terms and the meanings I utilize for them.


xiii

Chapter Three: The Historical Starting Point: Ecclesiology from 1500 to the Third Millennium This chapter presents an historical starting point. In these pages, I offer an overview of the rise of Christian ecclesiology from the sixteenth century onward. The goal of this chapter is to provide an historical starting point for a relational theology of church. The chapter, therefore, provides an historical terminus a quo (the sixteenth century) and an historical terminus ad quem (the new millennium) during which standard, operative, and dominant ecclesiologies developed in almost all the western Christian Churches. It is precisely these standard, dominant and operative ecclesiologies that have been called into question by the current demand for a renewal of a theology of church.

Chapter Four: The Philosophical Starting Point: Relational Being This chapter presents a philosophical starting point. Every ecclesiology operates in and through some philosophical base. In this chapter, I present my own philosophical base that is basically Franciscan. Since no philosophy is the benchmark of all philosophies, I do not expect that everyone will agree with it, but I want my readers to know what philosophical principles underlie this volume.

Chapter Five: The Theological Starting Point: An Infinitely Free Relational God This chapter presents a theological starting point, namely, a relational theology of the triune God. Unless one’s theology of God is relational, a relational theology of Church is unthinkable. In almost every major theological system, the way in which one theologizes about God determines, that is, shapes and colors all the subaltern areas of the theological enterprise. We see this in Basil, Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, the Franciscan medieval writers, Luther, and Calvin. One’s theology of God, not one’s ecclesiology, should shape and color one’s entire theological enterprise. Unfortunately, the apologetic ecclesiologies that developed in the West from the Reformation onward tended to make ecclesiology, not the theology of God, determine what their denominational followers can believe about God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, etc.

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The three starting points, expressed in the initial chapters of this volume, are all necessary. We need to know the historical reasons why we exist today in the contemporary historical situation vis-à-vis current church life. We need to know what philosophical presuppositions are being used in the subsequent material of this book. We need to know what theology of God is present throughout this volume, since a theology of God informs all other subaltern areas of the theological structure.

Chapter Six: A Relational Theology of Creation, Incarnation, and the Sending of the Spirit In this chapter, four major subaltern theological foci are incorporated into the contextual aspects of ecclesiology. The first three are part of classical theology, namely: creation (aetiology), the role of Holy Spirit in creation (pneumatology), and the role of the Incarnate Logos in creation (christology).6 One needs to add to these three areas of subaltern theology a fourth category, the eschatological category (soteriology). What is the final direction of creation? In this section, I include a theology of sin as presented in the Franciscan tradition.

Chapter Seven: A Relational Theology of the Church for the Third Millennium This chapter centers on an ecclesiology for the third millennium that is envisioned through the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition. If I had begun with ecclesiology itself, I would have not made an honest beginning; I would have started mediis in rebus. Such a beginning would be a false start, and a false start only produces a false ecclesiology. The church is meaningful only in its contextual and relativized dimensions as subaltern to all the above-mentioned theological dimensions. 6 See Peter Lombard, Libri IV Sententiarum (Quaracchi: Typographia Collegii S. Bonaventurae, 1916), L. I, d. 17. In this distinction, Peter Lombard unites creation, the sending of the Logos, and the sending of the Spirit. The interrelationship of creation, incarnation, and the sending of the Spirit became part and parcel of all the commentaries on the Sentences that were written in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.


xv

In the Franciscan approach relativity is a key word and it is a positive word. A relational God encompasses the Franciscan approach to creation, the sending of the Logos, the sending of the Holy Spirit, the meaning of salvation, and a theology of church. Interrelationship is also a key word today. This is powerfully evident when one studies the globalized world, the dialogues with other religions, the understanding of science, the changing episteme of the western world in what is called postmodern thought, and the major movements for acculturation and inculturation. Most of the world cultures are relational, and the cultural presence in ecclesiology involves a fundamental presence of relationality. In the contemporary Christian Church’s dialogues with other religions, the meaning of salvation makes sense only if salvation itself is relatively understood, since other religions envision, in their own ways, the meaning of salvation. In the reconstruction of a relational theology of church, there will, of necessity, be elements of deconstruction. Since the issues I treat are fundamentally theological, and since all theology is changeable, this reconstruction-deconstruction involves no central issue of Christian faith, but only the theological and philosophical ways in which central Christian beliefs are systematically expressed. On each page of this re-expression of ecclesiology, basic issues of faith will often be stated, namely that the very mystery of the church is its task to reflect the Lumen gentium, Jesus. Moreover, the Holy Spirit is reflected throughout creation. The Holy Spirit is active far beyond the boundaries of the church. Following the lead of the Vatican II document, Lumen gentium, as also the Catechism of the Catholic Church, I am presenting an ecclesiology in which the self-identity of the church in its deepest nature can be referred to as the mystery of the moon. For Christians, Jesus can be compared to the sun, the great center of light. The church can be compared to the moon, which has no light of its own. Just as the natural moon in our planetary system reflects the light of the sun, so, too, the church, as mystery of the moon, has no light of its own. The church reflects the light of Jesus and through Jesus the light of God. The lunar church, thereby, becomes a relativized church. The church is totally dependent on the light that originates in God and streams into our world through the incarnate Jesus. My conclusion can be stated in a succinct way: in the contemporary world of the third millennium only this kind of a relational church can be credible since we live in a relational universe.

xvi

All the warm nights sleep in the moonlight. Keep letting it go into you. Do this all your life and you will shine outward in old age. The moon will think: You are the moon. A Prayer from the Cree Nation

CHAPTER ONE

INTRODUCTORY CLARIFICATIONS

During the decades and centuries following the Reformation and the Council of Trent, the Anglican, Protestant, and Roman Catholic Churches slowly but surely began to present themselves officially and theologically through respective forms of systematic ecclesiology that in this volume I will refer to as standard, dominant, and operative.1 Prior to this period of time, only a few studies on ecclesiological themes had been written in the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. None of these earlier books, however, can be called a systematic ecclesiology. Marcia Colish in her two volumes, Peter Lombard, writes: “Systematic theology was born in the twelfth century.”2 She provides a detailed historical analysis of why this is so and the ways in that it took place during the twelfth century. Strangely enough, none of the Summae and none of the many Commentaries on the Sentences of Peter Lombard that were published from the twelfth century onward included a special section, De Ecclesia. Other theological issues were treated in detail, but a systematic ecclesiology did not appear until the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth centuries. Naturally, many earlier ad hoc positions regarding aspects of the church reappeared throughout the systematic volumes on church that had been published before and shortly after the Reformation and the Council of Trent. In chapter three, “The Historical Starting Point: Ecclesiology from 1500 to the New Millennium,” I will present this historical situation in a detailed way.

1

The descriptive terms, standard, dominant, and operative, refer to a systematic ecclesiology that has been given official status by the respective ruling ecclesiastics and that one finds dominant in their intellectual discussions on church issues, and that are operative in the day-to-day life of the respective official church structures. The renewal of ecclesiology that the churches are facing today amounts to a direct confrontation to such standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiologies. Michel Foucault in Le Mot et les choses (Paris: Éditions Gallimard, 1966) uses a similar methodology in his evaluation of episteme. There is a standard, dominant, and operative episteme in a culture at a given time. Gradually, however, another episteme begins to challenge this standard approach and a new episteme slowly becomes standard, dominant, and operative. 2 Marcia Colish, Peter Lombard (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1994). In chapter two, I will consider the issue of systematic theology in a detailed way.

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In this chapter, two major goals govern the way in that the material is presented: 1. A brief exposition of the historical development that produced the current renewal in ecclesiology; 2. A brief exposition of the meaning of an intellectual tradition in Christian theology and philosophy

1. A Brief Exposition of the Historical Development that Produced the Current Renewal in Ecclesiology From the sixteenth century to the end of the nineteenth century, various forms of ecclesiology slowly matured, assuming a role of dominance both theoretically (that is, a standard academic form of ecclesiology) and practically (that is, an operative form of ecclesiological praxis) in the denominational churches of the West. One form of these ecclesiologies eventually came to dominate the Roman Catholic community. Other forms of ecclesiology eventually came to dominate various Protestant communities, mainline Church Communities, Pentecostal Churches and Independent Churches. Still another form of ecclesiology, through the Book of Common Prayer, came to dominate the Anglican communities. Only in the early nineteenth century did Roman Catholics begin to hear a few theological voices calling for a re-thinking of its standard ecclesiology. In that century, however, no major changes in the dominant ecclesial episteme became effective. Nonetheless, these nineteenthcentury voices helped many twentieth-century Catholics—church leaders and theologians—to raise a concerted call for a renewal of Catholic ecclesiology. After many ups and downs vis-à-vis this call during the first sixty years of the twentieth century, the bishops at Vatican II officially opened the door to a reconstruction of the standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology in the Roman Catholic Church. Needless to say, this official opening of the door to reconstruction was not readily appreciated by all parts of the Catholic Church. Nonetheless, the conciliar bishops, in their official capacity, recognized and urged an ecclesiological renewal. Over the last two centuries, this call for a renewal of ecclesiology has been formulated again and again. Today, the call is so strong that it cannot be dismissed out of hand. In the following paragraphs I tabulate

introductory clarifications

3

the major instances of the call for ecclesial reform that have been made during the past two centuries. • The call for change was heard in the nineteenth century through the writings of Johann Sebastian Drey (1777–1853), a professor at the University of Tübingen from 1817 to 1846. His Kurze Einleitung in das Studium der Theologie, published in 1819, and his three-volume work, Die Apologetik als wissenschaftliche Nachweisung der Göttlichkeit des Christentums in seiner Erscheinung (1838–1847) emphasized the mystical dimension of the church rather than an institutional ecclesiology. • Johann Adam Möhler (1796–1838) was a student of Drey, and in his volume, Die Einheit in der Kirche (1825), he presented the church as a living entity and an organic unity. Following Drey, he also emphasized the mystical aspect of the church. His volume, Symbolik (1832) provided a basic assessment of the beliefs of, and the basic differences between Protestants and Catholics. Both Drey and Möhler had a strong influence on their German students, but it was the writings of Congar in the middle of the twentieth century that created a wider interest in the ecclesiologies of both of these scholars. Congar then brought the understanding of church as presented in both Drey and Möhler into the discussions at Vatican II. • The call for an ecclesial renewal became stronger in the twentieth century through the efforts of such movements as the return to the Fathers of the Church in the Nouvelle Théologie and in the more recent movements of Liberation Theologies, Feminist Theologies, and Cultural Theologies, all of which utilize New Testament and patristic sources rather than limiting themselves to medieval scholastic sources. These theologies also confronted contemporary ecclesiology with areas of violence and social injustice that the standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology of the Catholic Church tends to minimize. • The call for an ecclesial change has been deeply affected by contemporary factors external to theology such as globalization, multiculturalism, and modern science. These three issues can be compared to the “elephant in the living room.” At times, these issues are to some extent taken into consideration by Christian theologians; at other times, there is a preference to ignore them totally or at least not make them center stage. Today, we can no longer ignore the “elephant in the living room.”

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• The call for renewal in ecclesiology has been heavily influenced by the rise of Christian ecumenism that began in the early decades of the twentieth century. The World Missionary Conference, held in Edinburgh in 1910, initiated an ecumenical atmosphere that has had enormous effects on subsequent ecclesiological theology. The current efforts for a renewed theology of the church owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to the meeting in 1910 and to the subsequent meetings that gave rise to the World Council of Churches. The bishops at the second Vatican Council brought the Catholic community into a tighter union with this ecumenical drive. Through the strong efforts of the World Council of Churches, the Faith and Order Commission, and the Commission of World Evangelism and Mission, during the last twenty-five years, boundary-breaking strides in church renewal have taken place. Contemporary ecumenism, basically initiated by a group of Anglican and Protestant leaders, is without any doubt one of the most decisive—if not the most decisive—cause for today’s renewal of ecclesiology.3 • The call for a renewal of ecclesiology has found a major voice in the theological studies of the East Asian World, particularly in India, Taiwan, Sri Lanka, and Korea. During the last forty years, East Asian scholars have written extensively on ecclesiology. Among these books one can cite Reconciling Mission (2005) edited by Kirsteen Kim; Contextualization of Christianity in China. An Evaluation in Modern Perspective (2007) by Peter Chen-Main Wang; Breaking Silence. Theology from Asian Women (2006) ed. by Meehyun Chung; and the five volumes of the Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conference, For All the Peoples of Asia (1970–2008). The writings of Michael Amaladoss, Felix Wilfrid, Aloysius Pieris, Preman Niles, Po Ho Huang and David K. Suh are also major voices, calling for ecclesial renewal. These Asian theological voices for ecclesial change that honors the Asian approach to theology have had a strong effect on the western world.4 Slowly but surely these theologians have formulated an alternative ecclesiol-

3 See Jeffrey Gros, Eamon McManus, and Ann Riggs, Introduction to Ecumenism (New York: Paulist Press, 1998). 4 In the United States, Orbis Books, sponsored by the Maryknoll community, has been deeply committed to the publication of East Asian authors. Orbis Books has also committed itself to publish similar books written by African theologians, by Central and South American Liberation Theologians, and by Filipino and Pacific Island theologians.


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ogy that challenges any and every western standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology. • The call for a renewal of ecclesiology has also found a major voice both in the Sub-Saharan African world and also in the Islands of the Indian Ocean. Jean Marc Ela from Cameroon is one of the stronger African voices. In Ela, the contextual poverty of Africa dominates his theological approach. From the standpoint of African poverty, he formulates his theology of God, his christology, his anthropology, and his soteriology. On the basis of these issues, he develops ecclesiology that can be viewed as part of his Imaginaire Africaine. Ka Mana is the offspring of the Rwanda refugees who immigrated into the Congo during the genocide of 1959. He was influenced by Hannah Arendt, Pierre Emmanuel, Paul Ricoeur, and Habermas. The Church in Africa for Ka Mana, has lost its “Africaine imaginaire.” Only when there is a redemption of the Africaine imaginaire will there be a credible church. Other African scholars have contributed strongly to the development of an African ecclesiology: Bénézet Bujo, George Kwame Kumi, Mercy Amba Oduyoye, Teresa Okure, Oliver Onwubiko, and Elochuwu Uzukwu. The call for a renewal of ecclesiology that takes into account the diversity of the Sub-Saharan African continent remains a major task for contemporary theology and for the Christian Churches themselves. • The call for a renewal of the standard ecclesiologies found in all Christian Churches has been radically evident through the contemporary dialogues between Christians and members of other world religions. Never before in the history of Christianity have there been such world-wide and such in-depth inter-religious discussions. The uniqueness of Christianity has become a major issue, but the validity and holiness of all other world religions—including their positions on “salvation”—have also become a major issue. Inter-religious discussions between Christian communities and non-Christian religious groups have taken place since the first-century discussions in which a Semitic approach or a Greek approach to the meaning of Jesus’ message became a divisive factor for the early Church. However, the global scale of the contemporary discussions makes today’s interreligious dialogues both unique and profoundly consequential. • The call for a renewal of ecclesiology has been made in the EuroAmerican scene through the paradigmatic and epistemic changes in both epistemology and metaphysics that postmodern philosophy has brought about. Postmodern thinking has radically challenged

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western thought, and as of this moment there is no indication that the dominance of a postmodern episteme will not replace the current western episteme in the very near future. A postmodern episteme calls for a radical re-thinking of many ecclesiological ways of expressing theology, and this includes ecclesiology. • The call for a renewal of ecclesiology has been made again and again by the various liberation theologies, namely, the Liberation Theologies of Central and South America, Feminist Liberation Theologies, Black Theology in the United States, and Native American Theologies throughout the western hemisphere. The Vatican Curia has consistently distanced itself from these liberation theologies. However, liberation theologians, in spite of many personal rejections by Vatican Congregations, continue to play a strong role both in the academic circles of the Catholic Church and in the lay circles of Catholic leadership. • The call for a renewal of ecclesiology has been made, at times only indirectly, by the development of the physical sciences. However, one issue stands out as overwhelming, namely, that the present universe has existed somewhere between thirteen to fifteen billion years old. To theologize about “God’s plan of creation” and “God’s plan of salvation” for such a length of time raises profound questions. We have no specific data for the plan of God, for instance, six, eight, or eleven billion years ago. The theological plan of God, often serenely mentioned in Christian theology, has been and remains a very human-centric plan of God. Although the sacred scriptures tend to unify the human-centric approach to a cosmic-centric approach, thereby uniting the creation of the world tightly to the creation of men and women, our ignorance regarding billions of years of the universe’s history calls into question any such cosmic-human plan for all creation. I will focus on this issue strongly in later sections of this volume. • The call for a renewal of the ecclesiology of the Catholic Church was made not only at the Second Vatican Council, but also after the council by popes, conferences of national bishops, and federations of bishops’ conferences. Catholics today are living in a post-conciliar church, and the aftermath of every major Church council—from Nicaea to the present—included a long period of struggle and division. The current post-conciliar struggle for a renewed ecclesiology will last for many years, during which a renewed ecclesiology in the Catholic Church will continue to be a touchstone of disagreement.


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This lengthy and diverse litany clearly evidences a powerful call for a renewed ecclesiology. Other voices could be added to the list, but the above enumeration indicates that a world-encompassing call for a renewal in ecclesiology has and is taking place. The extensiveness of this current call for renewal indicates the main reason why the third millennium vis-à-vis ecclesiology merits special attention. The preceding centuries have bequeathed this task of ecclesiastical renewal to those of us who live in the third millennium. Moreover, the listing also indicates that major efforts are already taking place regarding a revision in ecclesiology in the Christian Churches. Indeed, the movement is so strong that it can no longer be turned back.5 Nonetheless, throughout the Christian world, there are hesitant voices, strong voices, and voices that, at least for certain areas of ecclesiology, loudly claim that there is no need for ecclesial revision and renewal. Consequently, at the beginning of the third millennium Christians from all churches live in a world of ecclesial tension caused by the current renewal in ecclesiology. On the one hand, the doctrinal strength, that many Christians had experienced from their childhood onward and that had nourished them deeply, now appears to be questionable. On the other hand, the Christian Church is experiencing in this first decade of the new millennium a positive renewal that brings holiness and wholeness to a church that, in the past five-hundred years, has been literally torn apart. Denominationally, Western Christianity is a divided Christianity with an abundance of alternative Churches. Nonetheless, Christians can indeed begin the new millennium with ecclesial excitement. I hope that this volume will provide a sense of holiness and peace to Christians who are seeking a deeper way to follow Christ. The current renewal of ecclesiology is the context in that and through that this entire volume has been developed.

5 The Theology in Global Perspectives Series (Maryknoll, N.Y.: Orbis Books), edited by Peter Phan, includes several major volumes on the subject of ecclesiological renewal today: Neil Ormerod, Creation, Grace, and Redemption (2007); Richard R. Gaillardetz, Ecclesiology for a Global Church (2008); Daniel Groody, Globalization, Spirituality, and Justice (2007); John F. Haught, Christianity and Science: Toward a Theology of Nature (2008); and Kenan Osborne, Orders and Ministry: Leadership in the World Church (2006).

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chapter one 2. A Brief Exposition of the Meaning of an Intellectual Tradition in Christian Theology and Philosophy

One finds theological plurality in the New Testament itself. Contemporary biblical scholars have described at length a Pauline theology, a Lucan theology, and a Johannine theology. Throughout these three theological traditions, there is a fundamental unity of faith in both God and in Jesus, but each author presents this central belief in a different theological way. This New Testament pattern of multiple traditions continued into the post-biblical period. Some theological traditions, that arose in the early centuries of the church community, were short-lived, e.g., Docetism and Montanism. They served a purpose in their day and age, but they are now simply moments of historical interest. However, other theological traditions were strongly fostered by their followers and in time became major traditions in the history of Christian theology. In eastern Christianity, the theological traditions of Basil the Great and Gregory of Nazianz continue to be of major contemporary importance. In western Christianity, the theological tradition of Augustine has had and continues to have the primacy of place. Let us consider briefly the Augustinian tradition. a. The Augustinian Intellectual Tradition In the entire Western Church, the major intellectual tradition has been the Augustinian Tradition. Shortly after the death of Augustine (430), a number of his followers continued his theological and philosophical path. His legacy includes a deep appreciation of the utterly gratuitous character of divine grace, a foundational critique of dualistic anthropology, a thoroughgoing understanding of the social dimension of human life, and a refusal to give credence to any position that indicated that God created evil things. His De Trinitate became, in western christianity, the basis for almost all further trinitarian considerations. His volume, De Doctrina Christiana, provided the middle ages with an educational framework. His Ennarationes in Psalmos and his In evangelium Johannis tractatus benefitted biblical scholars from the Carolingian period down to the twentieth century. The main theologians of the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries all depended on the insights of Augustine. Martin Luther and John Calvin cited an abundance of passages from Augustine. For both of these theologians, citations from


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Augustine rank second in number with citations from the scriptures ranking first. Clearly, there is an Augustinian intellectual tradition that has had major influence on western Christian thought. If we focus simply on the last one hundred years, the scholarly interest in Augustine has not abated. In the middle of the twentieth century, a major renewal of interest in Augustine took place. Henri De Lubac wrote his volume Surnaturel and later the Mystère du Surnaturel, both of which strongly analyze Augustinian thinking. At the same time, new and more critical translations of the works of Augustine into English and French took place. In the Catechism of the Catholic Church citations from Augustine outrank all other citations except those from the scripture. In the English language alone, major books on the life and thought of Augustine have appeared in the last fifty years: G. Bonner, St. Augustine of Hippo: Life and Controversies, Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo, Hugh Chadwick, Augustine, R. A. Markus, Saeculum, History and Society in the Theology of St. Augustine, and, in translation, Van der Meer, Augustine the Bishop. Is the Western Church in almost all its denominations today Augustinian? The answer to this question is affirmative. The influence of his thinking has lasted one thousand and six-hundred years. Augustine’s theology and philosophy truly constitute one of the major Christian intellectual traditions. Like all traditions, however, there is no unanimity, for there are various ways in which Augustinian thinking has been analyzed and developed. The Jansenism of the seventeenth century provides one instance of an Augustinian interpretation that differed from the more standard view of his thought. Nonetheless, Jansenistic tendencies became commonplace in areas of France, Italy, and the Hapsburg Kingdom. In a strong way, Jansenism affected Irish Catholics and the Catholics of Mexico down to the latter part of the twentieth century. In the Calvinist Churches of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the position of Augustine and John Calvin on predestination became intensely argued by Jacob Arminius, Theodore Beza, and Dirk Coornhert. The Synod of Dort (1618–1619) eventually upheld the “five points” of Calvin. Methodists and Baptist, after this synod, continued the more softened approach to Augustinian predestination, a position that Arminius had advocated. Intellectual traditions develop in diverse ways so that in one and the same tradition there can be several forms. This is clearly true of the Augustinian Intellectual Tradition.

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b. The Dominican Intellectual Tradition In the thirteenth century, Albert the Great, Thomas Aquinas, Alexander of Hales, Bonaventure, and John Duns Scotus studied Augustine’s writings and based many of their own positions on aspects of his theology and philosophy. However, Albert and Thomas, though influenced deeply by Augustine, formulated an intellectual approach to theology that eventually came to be called the Dominican or Thomistic Intellectual Tradition.6 There is a long history of this tradition, and it various forms have been called Thomisms. The Dominican Intellectual Tradition has been a major part of the Roman Catholic Church from the thirteenth century to the present, and Thomas Aquinas is unquestionably one of the most influential thinkers of western Christian thought. The influence of Thomas’ thought was encouraged and eventually imposed by the general chapters of the Dominicans: for example, the chapter in Milan (1278), in Saragossa (1309), and in London (1314). These regulations affected the various Dominican houses of studies and also the Dominican chairs of theology that existed in many medieval universities. Through these educational facilities, the theology of Thomas was spread to a wider number of scholars. In 1593 the Jesuits mandated that in their houses of studies and in their schools, the theology of Thomas Aquinas was mandatory. Given the widespread development of the Jesuit educational system during the next four hundred years, the theology of Thomas, in one form of Thomism or another, slowly but surely came to be seen as the dominant theological tradition in the Roman Catholic Church. The Discalced Carmelites at the University of Salamanca, Spain, authored the lengthy commentary, Cursus Theologicus Summam d. Thomae Complectens (1631–1701). These volumes and also the teaching of the Carmelite scholars at the university strongly enhanced the Thomistic Intellectual Tradition throughout eighteenth-century Europe. During the colonial era of the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries, Jesuit, Dominican, and Carmelite missionaries brought the

6 For the influence of Augustine on Albert the Great and for Albert’s differentiation from Augustine, see Thomas O’Meara, Thomas Aquinas: Theologian (Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 1997), 14–40. O’Meara also provides a bibliography on current studies of the theology of Thomas and its sources: 292–296. See also Anselm Min, Paths to the Triune God: An Encounter between Aquinas and Recent Theologies (Notre Dame, Indiana: The University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), 125–126 and 170–174.


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Dominican tradition to the schools of the New World from Lima to Manila. Thomas O’Meara, in his volume, Thomas Aquinas: Theologian, provides us with a lengthy and detailed development of the teaching of Thomas Aquinas from medieval times down to the present. In the Thomistic Intellectual Tradition, there is an abundance of forms, schools, and students.7 Even today there is no “one” form of Thomisitic thought. A major moment for the understanding of the theology of Thomas Aquinas was the development of the Leonine Commission to produce a critical edition of the writings of Thomas. In 1888, the Leonine edition of the Summa Theologiae appeared. Since then other critical editions have continued to be published.8 The Catholic Church of the last two centuries is particularly indebted to the theology of Thomas, since Thomistic forms of his theology became standard and dominant in the theological textbooks used in almost all Catholic seminaries. Broadly speaking, one can say that the development of a standard and dominant ecclesiology of the Catholic Church from the Reformation down to Vatican II was highly colored and shaped by the Dominican Intellectual Tradition. O’Meara makes the following stark statement: The effect of the Second Vatican Council upon Thomism, however, seemed to be a disaster. The world-wide neo-scholastic monopoly collapsed after 1965. Aquinas’ influence was reduced, as contemporary or biblical theologies replaced neo-scholasticism.9

He notes, however, that Richard Ingardia, in his Thomas Aquinas. International Bibliography, 1977–1990, provides a listing of 3500 entries on Thomas Aquinas.10 Perhaps, neo-scholastic Thomism had collapsed after 1965, but the listing of articles and books by Ingardia indicates that the richness of Thomas Aquinas continues.11

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O’Meara, op. cit., 152–243. Min, op. cit., 385. Min lists not only the critical editions of the writings of Thomas Aquinas but also an electronic version prepared by Roberto Busa and Enrique Alarcon of the University of Navarro, Pamplona, Spain, 2001. 9 O’Meara, op. cit., 198. 10 Richard Ingardia, Thomas Aquinas. International Bibliography, 1977–1990, (Bowling Green, Ohio: Bowling Green University, 1993). 11 O’Meara, 201–243. 8

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c. The Franciscan Intellectual Tradition The Franciscan Intellectual Tradition has not been as influential in the Christian Church as the two traditions mentioned above. However, in the Roman Catholic Church, the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition constitutes the third major tradition alongside the Augustinian Tradition, that is clearly the most important, and the Dominican Intellectual Tradition, that in the late nineteenth century and in the twentieth century tended to dominate Catholic theology. The beginnings of this intellectual tradition are not found in either a specific philosophy or a specific theology. Rather, the spiritual vision of Francis and Clare lies at the roots of this tradition, so much so that unless one has some understanding of their spiritual vision one will never grasp what the Franciscan Tradition is all about. The spiritual insight of Francis and Clare starts with an appreciation of God’s nature. For Francis and Clare there is no intuitive knowledge of God or any philosophically “proven” knowledge of God. In the Canticle of the Creatures, Francis writes: “no human is worthy to mention Your name.”12 If no human person has the ability to mention God’s name, then, Francis goes on, we must turn to the created world in order to find some glimpse of God. In the Canticle of the Creatures, Francis turns his attention to Brother Sun, Sister Moon, Brother Wind and Sister Water, etc. It is through the world in which we humans live that God shows us who God is. Through creation, God is perceived as: “All-powerful, most holy, Almighty and Supreme God.”13 In The Praises of God by Francis of Assisi we read: “You are love, charity; You are wisdom, You are humility, You are patience, You are beauty . . . You are all our sweetness.”14 The spiritual vision of Francis and Clare is the primary foundation for the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition. This spiritual vision involves an understanding of God, based not on intuition or on philosophical or theological arguments, but on a recognition of God in all of creation. This view, in the theological works of Bonaventure and Scotus, reappears in the intrinsic connection of a theology of a God who is one and

12 English translations of the writings of Francis of Assisi are taken from Francis of Assisi, the Saint: Early Documents (New York: New York City Press, 1999), edd. Regis Armstrong, Wayne Hellmann, and William Short. The English for this citation can be found on p. 113. 13 Francis of Assisi, the Saint, “The Earlier Rule,” c. 23 1: 81. 14 Ibid., 109.


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unique and at the same relational in a triadic way. The relationality of God ad intra pours out in the relational acts of God ad extra. For Francis and Clare, creation includes God’s sending of the Logos into the humanity of Jesus and also God’s sending of the Spirit throughout the entire created world. In the theological works of Bonaventure and Scotus, there is, consequently, an intrinsic and foundational connection for the following: the Triune God, creation, the Incarnation, and the sending of the Spirit. No one of these realities can be understood without the other three. In the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition the primacy is an interrelational primacy ad intra and ad extra. Ad extra, God’s creative action is at one and the same time an incarnational action and a manifestational action of the Spirit. From this foundation all other aspects of Franciscan theology are developed. It is this connection of the spiritual vision of Francis and Clare to the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition with the four foundational and interconnected matters of faith—the Triune God, creation, Jesus, and the Spirit—that constitute the basic distinctiveness of this tradition. Bonaventure writes about the Vestigium Dei found in every creature, and the Imago Dei found in every human being. The entire world is God’s world. For Bonaventure, the presence of God is inclusive of all creation. For Bonaventure God is infinite bonum sui diffusivum. In other words, no one, not even ecclesiastical leadership, can limit the diffusive love of God. John Duns Scotus emphasizes again and again the absolute and infinite freedom of God. If Scotus finds passages in other theologians that tend to restrict the absolute and infinite freedom of God, you can be sure that he will take a very strong negative stance to such theological formulations. His emphasis on God’s freedom will play a major role in the eventual Franciscan theology of church that I will develop in chapter seven. During the past five hundred years, Franciscan Tradition has experienced moments of glory and moment of rejection. The details of this history can be found in other sources.15 The followers of the thirteenth century Franciscan scholars continued the insights of their theological teachers and gradually from the fourteenth century onward a Franciscan Intellectual Tradition took root. Recently, George Marcil, in his 15

See Osborne, The History of Franciscan Theology (St. Bonaventure, New York: The Franciscan Institute, 1994–2007); Kajetan Esser, Anfänge und ursprüngliche Zielsetzungen des Ordens der Minderbrüder (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1966); J. A. Merino, Storia della Filosofía Francescana (Milan: Ed. Bibliotheca Francescana, 1993).

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essay, “The Franciscan School through the Centuries,” has provided us with an overview of the development of the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition.16 All three of the above traditions, Augustinian, Thomistic, and Franciscan, were sidelined first by the Enlightenment and then by the French Revolution with its immediate aftermath. In the late eighteenth century and throughout the nineteenth century, the philosophical departments of the universities of Europe and North America found no room for medieval authors. In these institutions, courses in philosophy moved from the Graeco-Roman world to Descartes and Kant. The intervening period offered nothing of philosophical value. Medieval philosophical thought was contaminated by religion. Slowly, in the latter decades of the nineteenth century and the early decades of the twentieth century, all three of these traditions regained their respective importance.17 My use of Franciscan sources throughout this volume is not meant, however, to be a restatement of medieval thought-patterns. Rather, I employ certain basic Franciscan approaches both philosophical and theological in ways that in my judgement coincide with third-millennium epistemes. In doing this, I cannot help but realign medieval issues into contemporary paradigmatic structures. On the one hand, the writings of both Bonaventure and Scotus provide the theological foundation for this realignment. On the other hand, my application of their ideas will often manifest a re-formulation of this foundation in order to contextualize it into contemporary thought-patterns. Hopefully, major medieval scholars of the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition will not take me to task. I am not simply repeating medieval Franciscan positions; rather, I am trying to make them as contemporarily effective as I can. d. Theological Traditions in the Protestant and Anglican Churches In the Protestant and Anglican sectors of the Christian Church, there is clearly a strong Lutheran Intellectual Tradition, a strong Calvinist Intellectual Tradition, and a strong Anglican Intellectual Tradition.

16 George Marcil, “The Franciscan School through the Centuries,” The History of Franciscan Theology: 311–330. 17 See Kenan Osborne, “The Franciscan Intellectual Tradition: What is it? Why is it important?” Association of Franciscan Colleges and Universities—AFCU Journal, 5 (January, 2008) 1: 1–25.


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All three of these traditions have had and still have a variety of subsystems, but these three theological intellectual traditions have in a powerful way influenced Christian theology from the sixteenth century to the present. Over the past four-hundred and some years, the Lutheran, Calvinistic, and Anglican Churches have developed not only intellectual and theological traditions; they have also developed liturgical traditions and traditions of spirituality. In each denomination, there are differing Lutheran, Calvinist, and Anglican forms of their traditions. Once again, this evidences that theology, even in a tradition, is pluralistic. The strength and integrity of these theological traditions are major components of today’s Christian Church. The insights of these three traditions offer all Christians a tremendous depth of theological acumen and Christian holiness. It may be more accurate to refer to Lutheran Communities rather than a Lutheran Church or Lutheran Churches. One might even prefer a reference to the Lutheran World Federation, since this Federation includes a membership of a wide group of Lutheran communities. A correct and precise wording on “church” or “churches” or “communities” for this ecumenical context of theological traditions is still in the making. What is not questioned is the long and profound tradition in theology, liturgy, and spirituality that stems from Martin Luther and his followers (Lutheran Tradition), John Calvin and his followers (Reformed Tradition), the English Church from Henry VIII onward and its followers (Anglican Tradition). Similar lengthy traditions of spirituality and communal liturgy can be found in the evangelical, fundamentalist, and Pentecostal churches.18 When the Anglican Church began to develop in the sixteenth century, the influence of both Luther and Calvin became strong in the universities of Oxford and Cambridge. Therefore, there is some overlapping in

18 Richard McBrien, The Church: The Evolution of Catholicism (New York: HarperOne, 2008) states: “Although there are literally millions of evangelical, fundamentalist, and Pentecostal Protestants in the world, there is no fully developed ecclesiology in any of these traditions apart from Mirosalv Volf ’s After Our Likeness: The Church as the Image of the Trinity (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998)” (374). Perhaps there is no systematic theology for these Christian Churches, but there certainly is in each of these churches lengthy traditions of theological stance, liturgical celebration, and spirituality.

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the Anglican Tradition with the Lutheran and the Calvinist Traditions.19 Nonetheless, there are clear centralizing and distinctive issues involved in the Anglican tradition.20 e. Theological or Intellectual Traditions in the Eastern and Orthodox Churches Some of the most profound theological and philosophical traditions are found in the Eastern and Orthodox Churches. Today, one distinguishes different groups of Eastern Churches. 1. The Oriental Orthodox Churches comprise the majority of Christians who presently live in Albania, Armenia, Belarus, Bulgaria, Cyprus, Georgia, Greece, Macedonia, Romania, Russia, Serbia, Syria, Turkey, the Ukraine, and in most of Middle East except Lebanon and Iraq. “The number of members within the Oriental Orthodox Churches is estimated at 40 million, most of whom reside nowadays in areas with an Islamic majority or under hostile Marxist governments.”21 2. The Assyrian Church of the East or the East Syrian Church is a small group, numbering roughly 200,000 members. They originated in Palestine, and then migrated through Antioch and Edessa with minimal Greek influence. Eventually, they settled in the ancient Persian Empire. Though small, the missionary activity of this group was widespread. Its members are found in Iran, Tibet, Mongolia, and China.22 3. The Orthodox Church is the most extensive group of Eastern Christians. The exact number of members is hard to establish, but in gen19 As a major seafaring nation, England was able to send its missionaries to the West Indies, the Americas, Canada, India and the Far East. Because of this, one might prefer not to speak of an “Anglican Church,” since there seems to be a communion of churches, such as the Church of England, the Church of Canada, and the Episcopal Church in the United States. Nonetheless, there clearly has been an Anglican Intellectual Tradition that has had a tremendous influence on the wider world. 20 In 1888, the third Lambeth Conference established the Quadrilateral, that is, the four essential issues of Christian Faith: first, the Holy Scripture as the record of God’s revelation; second, the Nicene and Apostles’ creeds as the rule of faith; third, the divinely instituted sacraments of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper; and finally the historic episcopate locally adopted. Christianity has been deeply affected by the Anglican Community in both its theological insights and in its spirituality. 21 See Michel Fahey, “Eastern Churches,” The New Dictionary of Theology (Wilmington, Delaware: Michael Glazier, 1987): 301. 22 Ibid., 302.


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eral terms one can say that their membership is around 105 million, and these members live in almost every part of today’s world. 4. The Eastern Catholic Churches are in full communion with the Church of Rome. Perhaps the membership is around nine million. 5. The “Non Canonical” Eastern Orthodox Churches register about 4.5 million adherents, but they are not recognized as “Orthodox” by the other Eastern Churches. The theological and spiritual traditions of these five groups are diverse but highly respected. The names of their leaders in both theology and liturgy continue to influence all of these traditions: Athansius, Basil, Gregory of Nazianz, Gregory of Nyssa, John Chrysostom, Nestorius of Antioch, Clement of Alexandria, Cyril of Alexandria, Dionysius the Great, and Cyril and Methodius. The list could be extended. The genius of these leaders remains active. The twentieth-century ecumenical movement has played a major role in promoting among the Western Churches a deep respect and interest in the Eastern Churches. Without the ecumenical movement, the east-west division of church would be in a sorry situation today. The Eastern Churches with their various ecclesiologies challenge all Western Churches to rethink what the meaning of church is all about.23 The influence of the great Fathers of the Eastern Churches was and still is immense. Four great theologians have provided major theological guidance: Athanasius of Alexandria, Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nazianz, and John Chrysostom of Constantinople. Once again—and this issue is beyond the confines of this book—we find in the Eastern Churches diverse theological traditions, all of that offer integrity and strength to a pluralistic Christian theology. There never was nor is there now a single Christian theology. Christian faith remains the same, but the theological explanations of this faith have had and still have many traditions. Nor is any one of these multiple tradition the benchmark of all other traditions, since all are theological and not matters of faith. Perhaps denominational Christian Churches have their respective standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiologies. In the ecumenical discussions today scholars and ecclesiastical leaders 23

See P. Gregorios, W. Lazareth, N. Nissiotis, eds., Does Chalcedon Divide or Unite? (Geneva: WCC, 1981); J. Meyendorff, The Orthodox Church (New York: St. Vladimir’s Press, 1981); Demetrios Constantelos, Understanding the Greek Orthodox Church: Its Faith, History, and Practice (New York: Paulist, 1982).

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are slowly coming to honor ecclesiological plurality rather than a single standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology. For this volume, I have chosen the Franciscan tradition and it, too, is simply one theological tradition among many. My intent is to indicate how elements in the Franciscan tradition can help bring about a renewed theology of the church that will speak more deeply to the contemporary world in a credible way. I have also selected the Franciscan tradition since from the thirteenth century onward it has included Eastern theological thought in a centralizing way (Dionysius the Areopagite and John Damascene).

CHAPTER TWO

A RELATIONAL ECCLESIOLOGY IN THE THIRD MILLENNIUM: WHAT MAKES THE THIRD MILLENNIUM DIFFERENT?

The third millennium has begun with a gusto of promises. There are economic promises, social promises, ecological promises, and dozens of others. Moreover, the third millennium has begun in a very unique way. It has inherited the unbelievable ability to travel in space, a truly worldwide or globalized economy, an explosion in people’s knowledge due to the computer and on-line services, and a military capacity far beyond any other age that this world has known. Without any doubt, the third millennium has begun as an unparalleled, creative, and powerful period of time. In many ways the third millennium is a new world and therefore it is a new immediate context in that the Western Christian Churches are rethinking their integrity and their relevance. At the beginning of the third millennium, a strong but incipient vision of a renewed ecclesiology has begun to emerge. The momentum for ecclesial renewal remains positive, but the goal of the renewal has not yet been sighted. Chapter two of this volume offers a brief catalogue of certain major issues that characterize the beginning of the new millennium. None of these factors will be dealt with in depth. Rather, chapter two simply places on our table of discourse seven fundamental issues that in differing ways strongly shape and color a third millennium renewal of ecclesiology. Since I will refer to these characteristics throughout this volume, I want to explain in brief detail the ways in that I understand these issues. In each section, I will also indicate how they are à propos to contemporary ecclesiological thought. 1. Contemporary research on New Testament and early church data has challenged current denominational ecclesiologies. 2. The continuing influence of the ecclesial division between the Eastern and Western Churches remains a powerful and constitutive force on the reformulation of contemporary ecclesiology.

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3. The continuing influence of the Protestant and Anglican Reformations remains a strong and positive factor in the reformulation of contemporary ecclesiology. 4. The contemporary discussions by world religions that are taking place for the first time in a globalized manner have profoundly challenged the Christian Churches as regards their claim to be the sole means of salvation. 5. The contemporary influence of multi-cultural theologies and practices of church life in today’s globalized world have already begun to replace the dominant Euro-American philosophy and theology of ecclesiology. 6. The influence of contemporary science on the formulation of a new ecclesiology has slowly become a major player in today’s ecclesial discussions. Both Quantum mechanics and the scientific study of the age of the universe severely challenge the Christian position on the “plan of God” from creation onward. 7. The influence of postmodern thinking on the Euro-American world is strongly affecting the reformulation of contemporary ecclesiology 8. Conclusions On the one hand, these seven major issues have complicated today’s renewal of ecclesiology, and on the other hand these same seven issues have enriched the current discussions on the meaning and value of the Christian Church today. The contents and implications of each major issue are both extensive and intensive; my comments are basically explanatory.

1. Contemporary Research on New Testament and Early Church Data Has Challenged Current Denominational Ecclesiologies Until recently, church historians and ecclesiologists have referred to the early Christian Church in ways that denote or connote a basic unity in the apostolic churches. In the twentieth century, scholarship on the historical details of the early church has surpassed any research that earlier writers had done. Today, we have an historical understanding of both New Testament times and the first centuries of Christian life that no other generation has ever enjoyed. Historical data has not cancelled out a theology of church; rather, it has provided us with a clearer insight as to how the early Jesus

a relational ecclesiology in the third millennium

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communities understood and lived out their faith in Jesus. A generic understanding of the phrase, “the early church,” continues to have a certain validity. However, scholarship in New Testament studies and in early church history has indicated that from its earliest beginnings the Christian communities never exhibited a paradisial unity.1 In the New Testament itself one finds major issues that bitterly separated the early followers of Jesus. In the Pauline letters one finds a conflict with those who maintained an overly strict adhesion to Jewish customs. In the Acts of the Apostles, the same situation—namely, the retention or non-retention of Jewish practices—is noted (Acts 11, 1–18; 15, 1–21). The inclusion of non-Jews was also a development that was eventually accepted by the early communities, but only after a period of wrangling. Moreover, the leadership structure of the early communities was not uniform. The Pauline community does not appear to have an episcopal form of governance, since only once—and almost in passing—does Paul mention επίσκοπος (Phil 1:1). In the Johannine material, the term, επίσκοπος, is never mentioned. Throughout the New Testament, the meaning of the term, πρεσβΰτερος, is elusive in its own way, and neither term exactly matches the function and position of today’s bishop and priest.2 In other words, the organization and leadership of the early Jesus communities was not uniform, and differences in functions and names continued to exist until the fifth century. Although all followers of Jesus in the New Testament proclaimed Jesus as Χρίστος (Messiah), not all agreed on how the leaders of the various Jesus-followers should be named, or on how the members of these communities should continue to follow Jewish customs.

1 Johann Adam Möhler in his book Die Einheit in der Kirche (Cologne: Jakob Hagner, 1957; reprint of the 1825 edition) has a basic theme that there was actually never an undivided church even in the apostolic and sub-apostolic churches. See also Aloys Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition: From the Apostolic Age to Chalcedon (451) v. 1, (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1965), 33–105; Eng. trans. by John Bowden. Grillmeier enters into detail regarding the non-unified views of christology from 100 to 451. A re-reading of the Pauline letters also witnesses to both a basic unity and a fundamental disunity. We find this in his letter to the Thessalonians, Corinthians, Galatians, and Romans. Even today, the Orthodox Churches are not united; the Anglican and Protestant Churches are not united; and the Roman Catholic Church currently has many divisions, both culturally and doctrinally. 2 See Kenan Osborne, Priesthood: A History of the Ordained Ministry in the Roman Catholic Church (New York: Paulist, 1988); also Orders and Ministry (New York: Orbis Books, 2006).

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Scholars today refer to Pauline theology, Johannine theology, and Lucan theology. Each of these theologies centers on Jesus and through Jesus on God. However, each is distinct in its presentation. The New Testament does not provide us with “one theology.” Rather, one finds in the New Testament writings a variety of theologies of that the Pauline, Johannine, and Lucan are simply the most evident. In the Acts we read: “The community of believers was of one heart and mind and no one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they have everything in common” (Acts 4:32). Biblical scholars note that there is a certain golden-age generalization at play in this verse. They indicate that Luke is using idyllic terms, and that he is not describing the actual reality. In the actual reality of the New Testament communities, they were not irenically “of one heart and mind.” The relevance of these remarks is this: a fundamental unity among the Jesus communities of New Testament times never existed, but the message of Jesus challenges Christians to be of one heart and mind. In the first four centuries of Christian life, the Montanists, the Donatists, and the Arianists became “alternative” churches, and these alternative communities constituted major divisions in early Christianity. Church life became splintered.3 In these same centuries, an heretical faction generally became ineffective with the condemnation or death of the leading heretic. In the three instances just mentioned, however, the three fairly long-standing alternative churches threatened the unity of the Christian community since the divisions were not focused on individual heretical leaders but on a competitive and alternative church.4 The factual situation in the early church, which contemporary biblical and historical scholars have put together through their research, has major relevance for the ecclesiological efforts of the third millennium. Today, the Christian Churches—Anglican, Orthodox, Protestant, and Roman Catholic—base their particular ecclesial value on certain New Testament passages and on certain parts of the apostolic and post-

3 The Donatist Church had its beginning with the election of Caecilian as bishop of Carthage in 311. This Christian group lasted until the Moslem conquest of North Africa in the seventh century. The Montanist Church began in the mid-second century as a charismatic and apocalyptic movement. 4 In the early church, the excommunication of an heretical leader more often than not brought about a gradual rejection of his thinking. An alternative church, however, could not and did not disappear so easily. The Montanist, Donatist, and Arian Churches remained attractive to many Christians for lengthy periods of time, and some emperors defended the Arian Churches over the so-called orthodox churches.


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apostolic churches. James D. G. Dunn in Unity and Diversity in the New Testament speaks of a “canon within a canon,” and indicates what “canon” means for Roman Catholics, Lutheran Christians as well as other Protestant groups, such as the nineteenth-century liberal Protestants. He does the same for Eastern Orthodoxy and for Pentecostalism.5 For each of these groups, the “canon within the canon” provides the respective group with its own authenticity as “the correct” Christian community. Other scholars have also written on the question of unity and diversity of ecclesiology in the New Testament and in the early church.6 Christian Churches today continue to claim a New Testament and/ or an early church canon that serves as a basic model, a regulatory standard, or a normative principle validating their respective theological and spiritual understanding of church. In some instances, major church leadership in one or other of these communities has ignored recent biblical and historical scholarship regarding the disunity of the early Jesus communities.7 For an acceptable ecclesiology of the third millennium, the non-uniformity and therefore the relativity of the early Jesus communities must be given its place at the table, since today’s church also has its own diversity that means its own relativity.8 Today’s pressing contemporary question is this: can there be an ecclesiology that includes major diversity?

5 James D. G. Dunn, Unity and Diversity in the New Testament (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1977; repr. Philadelphia: Trinity Press International; 1999; London, SCM, 2006), 375. 6 See Frederick J. Cwiekowski, The Beginnings of the Church (New York: Paulist Press, 1988); Raymond Brown, The Churches the Apostles Left Behind (New York: Paulist Press, 1983); Angel Antón, La Iglesia de Cristo: El Israel de la Vieja y la Nueva Alianza (Madrid: La Editorial Católica, 1977); M. A. Chevallier, “L’unité plurielle de l’Église d’après le Nouveau Testament,” Revue d’histoire et de philosophie religieuse 66 (1986): 3–20; and V. Kesich, “Unity and Diversity in New Testament Ecclesiology,” St. Vladimir’s Theological Quarterly, 19 (1975): 109–127. 7 This is particularly true for the highest leadership in the Roman Catholic Church. This leadership continues to present a picture of hierarchical leadership that current scholarship has clearly rejected, namely, that Jesus during his lifetime chose the Twelve as the first bishops and Peter as the first pope. The Twelve then selected other eligible Christians as their successors and they, too, were instituted as bishops. These successor bishops chose helpers who were instituted as presbyters. An example of this approach can be found in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (Washington, D.C.: United States Catholic Conference, 1994): 880–896. 8 I will refer to this disunity in more detail in chapters six and seven.

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2. The Continuing Influence of the Ecclesial Division between the Eastern and Western Churches Remains a Powerful and Constitutive Force on the Reformulation of Contemporary Ecclesiology The division between the Eastern and Western Churches that occurred in the first millennium continues to have ramifications on the third millennium church. Pope Gregory II (669–731) at the beginning of the eighth century sent a letter to the emperor at Constantinople, Leo III, stating that the center of gravity had begun to shift to the inner west.9 Gregory was thinking of the Latin sphere of the empire in that signs of disassociating itself from the Byzantine Empire had already appeared. A far more critical stage in this East-West break took place, however, with the Photian schism that occurred in the mid-ninth century. In the popular media as well as in some academic literature, 1054 ce has often been cited as the year when the Latin and Greek Churches finally separated, forming two major alternative Churches within Christendom. In spite of the split, many avenues of reciprocal communication between the two entities continued to take place.10 In the third millennium, the Roman Catholic Church has formally considered the Orthodox Churches as one, holy, catholic, and apostolic.11 This acceptance of the Orthodox Churches as true church is evident in the canonical regulations allowing Catholics to receive the sacraments of eucharist, reconciliation, and anointing of the sick from Orthodox priests, and in the same document allowing Orthodox Christians to receive eucharist, reconciliation, and anointing of the sick from Roman Catholic ministers. The Roman Catholic leadership has presented us with an “open door” policy vis-à-vis the three sacraments just mentioned. In doing this, there is a clear acceptance by the Roman leaders not only of the sacramental liturgies in the Orthodox Churches, but also of the episcopal, presbyteral, and diaconal min9 See E. Caspar’s analysis of the Letter of Gregory II to the emperor, Leo III, “Gregor II und der Bilderstreit,” Zeitschrift für Kirchengeschichte, 52 (1933) 3: 29–89. 10 See Charles Frazee, “1054 Revisited,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies, 42 (2007) 2: 263–279. See also Richard McBrien, The Church: The Evolution of Catholicism, 74–75. 11 The formal acceptance of the Orthodox sacraments and structure could be seen as a moment of arrogance. In some ways, the Vatican could also be seen as arrogant, since there was no mutual discussion on these issues prior to the publication of the document. On the other hand, the document clearly moves into a more ecumenical format, with its full communicatio in sacris. Such a communicato is a profound admission of equality.


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isters of the Orthodox Churches. Since there is no requirement that the Orthodox Christians acknowledge the papacy, one wonders just how—given this ecumenical openness—the issue of papacy fits into the Roman Catholic hierarchy of doctrines. A clarification of the hierarchy of doctrines is a major third-millennium issue that affects ecclesiology in a serious way. Richard Gaillardetz in his book, The Church in the Making, analyzes at great length the efforts to bring together the Eastern and Western Churches. He does this through a detailed analysis of the Vatican II document, Orientalium Ecclesiarum as well as other documents that appeared after the council. Gaillardetz indicates that too often the Eastern Churches, in the documentation from Rome, are placed in a subordinate role. The issue of the superiority of the Roman Church is maintained again and again in both subtle and direct ways.12 From mid-twentieth century onwards, theologians in the Roman Catholic Church have frequently turned to the early Greek, Syriac, and Coptic writings. Critical editions have been issued and translations have taken place. The volumes of Unam Sanctam have contributed enormously to a better knowledge of Eastern Church theology on the part of western theologians. The influence of Eastern theological thought has deeply penetrated the contemporary writings of many western theologians. Thus, not only is there a better communication on sacramental rites and ecclesial structures, but the spirituality and theology of the Orthodox communities has become more deeply appreciated in the west. All of this indicates that the division between the Western and Eastern Churches is still present. Nonetheless, a strong relevance of eastern theology on western theology has become a major part of today’s renewal of a theology of the church. The division is not simply a matter of historical concern; it is a reality that has major positive momentum in the twenty-first century.13 Can contemporary scholars formulate an acceptable ecclesiology that is relational in its very nature, that is, an ecclesiology that can relate at one and the same time to the Western Churches and to the Eastern and Orthodox Churches? Such a relational ecclesiology might have a relational unity as well as a relational

12 Richard Gaillardetz, The Church in the Making (New York: Paulist Press, 2006), 38–40, 65–68, 112–115, and 163–165. 13 I will refer to this in more detail in chapter three.

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honoring of diversity and difference. The problematic, however, is this: does such relationality include relativity?

3. The Continuing Influence of the Protestant and Anglican Reformations Remains a Strong and Positive Factor in the Reformulation of Contemporary Ecclesiology The ecclesial split in the sixteenth century that traumatically changed Western Christianity constitutes a fundamental part of today’s ecclesiological renewal. In the sixteenth century, the need for reform of the Western Church had reached a major step. Jaroslav Pelikan describes this moment of time in a very insightful way: The institutions of medieval Christendom were in trouble, and everyone knew it. Intended as windows through that mean might catch a glimpse of the Eternal, they had become opaque, so that the faithful looked at them rather than through them. The structures of the Church were supposed to act as vehicles for the spirit—both for the Spirit of God and the spirit of man. . . . Instead what he[man] found was a distortion of the faith. . . . Captive in ecclesiastical structures that no longer served as channels of divine life and means of divine grace, the spiritual power of the Christian gospel pressed to be released. The pressure exploded in the Reformation.14

Today, we are no longer in the sixteenth century when—at least in the early years of that century—a hope of reunification might have lingered. The Reformation Churches have had four hundred years of astounding development. In each of the major churches, Anglican and Protestant, a doctrinal tradition has certainly prevailed. An even more important phenomenon has taken place respectively in each of these groupings, namely, the development of Anglican, Lutheran, Calvinist, and Pentecostal forms of spirituality, the formation of specific liturgical traditions of celebrating baptism and the Lord’s Supper, and the elaboration in practice of church administration, both institutional and charismatic. In other words, all of the churches mentioned above have developed their unique ways of prayer and praising God (spirituality), of celebrating community prayer (liturgy), and of responding to God’s gift of ecclesial guidance (administration). Given the healthy variety of 14 Jaroslav Pelikan, Spirit Versus Structure: Luther and the Institutions of the Church (New York: Harper and Row, 1968), 5.


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spirituality, liturgy, and administration, the ecumenical movement no longer entails simply a resolution of doctrinal differences. Rather, the variety in spirituality, liturgy, and administration indicates that in some form or another each church community has its place in what we hope we will one day see in an ecumenical Christian Church. In the renewal of ecclesiology as developed in the twentieth century, the Protestant Reformation of the sixteenth century continued to play a major role. The ecumenical movement of the twentieth century, is without question one of the most significant and positive factors that has brought about the current ecclesial renewal. In itself, this inner-Christian ecumenical discussion is groundbreaking. After three hundred years of antagonistic co-existence of the western denominations of Christianity (1600–1900), an atmosphere of cooperation and accommodation has gradually arisen. There remain, of course, divisive elements of no mean dimensions, such as, the issues of ordination, the celebration of the sacraments with a particular stress on the eucharist, and the role of the papacy. However, major points of agreement are present in the recent documents of the World Council of Churches, in the Anglican-Roman Catholic dialogues, in the LutheranRoman Catholic dialogues, and in the widespread intra-church eucharistic hospitality.15 This listing could be expanded exponentially. A third millennium ecclesiology must face the reality of its own internal division. Ecumenical unity will remains idealistic, if denominational church leadership does not allow for ecumenical diversity. In the ecumenical meetings throughout the twentieth century, have current Western Christian Churches developed a serene, acceptable, and ecumenical ecclesiology? The answer to this question is clearly negative. The Christian Churches, however, have come to understand each other’s spirituality and structuring in a far more accepting way. Major steps have been taken, and these steps have certainly engendered a willingness to listen and work with one another. Nonetheless, there are moments when ecumenicity is strongly overshadowed by denominational non-inclusivity. In 2007, Benedict XVI published a letter to

15 See Jeffrey Gros, “The Requirements and Challenges of Full Communion: a Multilateral Evaluation?” Journal of Ecumenical Studies, 42 (2007) 2: 217–242. Cf. also Faith and Order at the Crossroads [Kuala Lumpur 2004: The Faith and Order Plenary Commission Meeting] ed. Thomas F. Best (Geneva: WCC Publications, 2005); also Worship Today: Understanding, Practice, Ecumenical Implications, edd. Thomas F. Best and Dagmar Heller (Geneva: WCC Publications, 2004).

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theologians stating in no uncertain terms that the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church is the Roman Catholic Church.16 The response by the media to this publication was immediate, and for the most part the media challenged his position. In spite of such divisive instances, the momentum of ecumenical dialogue and practice continues to nourish the Christian Churches of the West during the early years of the third millennium.17

4. The Contemporary Discussions by World Religions That Are Taking Place for the First Time in a Globalized Manner Have Profoundly Challenged the Christian Churches as Regards their Claim to Be the Sole Means of Salvation The editors of the Journal of Ecumenical Studies have gradually over forty-two years published an up-to-the-moment report on ecumenical dialogues throughout the western world. In the past fifteen years, they have widened their focus, so that an up-to-the-moment report on interreligious dialogues are now included. In the English-speaking world, we are deeply indebted to the efforts of these editors. In the spring of 2007, the table of contents of the Journal of Ecumenical Studies provided an example of this inter-religious dialogue. We read such words and phrases as: “beyond word and sacrament,” “Catholic identity and anti-semitism,” “a multilateral evaluation,” “the Santal Sacred Grove and Catholic inculturation,” “1054 revisited” (the Orthodox situation), and “ecumenism and interreligious dialogue.” In the official leadership of today’s Roman Catholic Church, interreligious dialogues move with great caution. There is a fear that an outright acknowledgement of the validity of non-Christian religions will undermine the validity of the Catholic Christian Church itself. The two major issues that engender this hesitation are the christological and the ecclesiological issues. First, if Jesus is not the only savior of the world, then the Christian Churches are relativized in such a way that

16 Benedict XVI, Responses to some questions regarding certain aspects of the Doctrine on the Church, (Vatican City: The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, June 29, 2007). English translation and commentary in “Document and Commentary,” Vidyajyoti Journal of Theological Reflection, 71 (2007) 9: 700–705; see also the anonymous editorial, ibid., “The Catholic Church and Ecumenical Dialogue”: 641–644. 17 I will come back to this issue in chapter three.


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all religions are equal. Secondly, the uniqueness and superiority of the Christian Church depends on the position that Jesus alone is the savior of all people. One immediately sees that in these theological positions christology and ecclesiology are tightly interwoven. If either christology (Jesus is the only savior) or ecclesiology (the Christian Church is superior to all other religions) is changed, the other is also changed. If the Christological position ceases to be universal, the ecclesiological position ceases to be uniquely superior. In recent years, new ecclesiological emphases have been raised vis-à-vis the standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology of the Roman Catholic Church. The various liberation theologies are clear instances of this challenge. The ecclesiologies of Asian and African theologians also challenge this form of ecclesiology. In various countries in that Christianity is a minority religion, some Catholic leaders, both ecclesiastical and theological, are already operating on the basis of a new form of ecclesiology.18 Official statements from the Vatican continue to present the standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology.19 Vatican documents have dismissed various liberation and feminist theologies of the church by the term “new.”20 In some Catholic circles, the word “new” indicates a denial and disrespect of tradition. The designation of newness is most evident in the official evaluations of those theologians who have attempted to relate the gospel message to a globalized, multicultural, and multi-religious world.21 Globalization, multi-culturalism, and inter-religious dialogue have become central to the renewal efforts of Western Christian theologians. However, conservative Christian Churches tend to ignore not only the

18 See the documents of the Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences, For All the People of Asia, v. 1 (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1992); vv. 2 and 3 (Quezon City: Claretian Publications, 2002–2003). In the third volume, the issue of a new theology of church is very strong. 19 Congregation for Divine Worship, Redemptionis Sacramentum (Vatican Press, 2004); Eng. trans. USCCB, Washington, D.C. 20 The charge of Marxism was evident in the official criticisms of Gustavo Gutiérrez. His book, A Theology of Liberation (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1973), was severely criticized because his use of social analysis was seen as something new, and some critics even thought that his use of social analysis was based on Marxist writings. 21 Contemporary Indian and Sri Lankan theologians have been singled out by the Vatican Curia in a special way as instigators of newness. Their newness regarding evangelization has been rejected in harsh terms. Such theologians include Aloysius Pieris, Jacques Dupuis, Felix Wilfred, Michael Amaladoss, and Tissa Balasuriya.

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contemporary epistemic and paradigmatic changes, but also the inroads of multi-cultural life into theological and liturgical life. Nor do they join inter-religious dialogues. What is remarkable about today’s inter-religions dialogue is its overpowering and global nature. Never before have all the major religions of world engaged in mutual dialogues, discussions, and cooperative efforts in such an all-embracing way. Today’s comprehensive globalization of inter-religions dialogues is unique to the late-twentieth century and the beginning of the twenty-first century.22 In today’s globalized world with its multi-cultural humanity, Christians of all denominations account for roughly 25% of the world population. A claim by only 25% of the world population that Jesus alone is the universal savior is viewed as demeaning other major religions. In the current inter-religious contacts, the Jesus-issue and the savior-issue have become central and at the same time divisive. A third millennium ecclesiology must face the Jesus-issue and the savior-issue in an honest way.

5. The Contemporary Influence of Multi-Cultural Theologies and Practices of Church Life in Today’s Globalized World Have Already Begun to Replace the Dominant Euro-American Philosophy and Theology of Ecclesiology There has been a wealth of information on the issue of globalization and cultural diversity vis-à-vis the Christian Churches.23 In previous centuries, the Christian Churches faced the issue of inculturation on several occasions, but never have they faced a globalized form of inculturation. Whether acceptable or not, Western Christian Churches today are experiencing an ecclesial inculturation that has powerful dimensions and that call for critical reconstruction. 22 See Leonard Swidler, “Understanding Dialogue,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies, 43 (2008) 2: 9–24. In recent decades, the Journal of Ecumenical Studies has become a major player in the inter-religions dialogues. The Journal has moved from interdenominational Christian dialogue to the globalized dialogues of world religions. 23 See Malcolm Waters, Globalization (New York: Routledge, 1995); Mike Featherstone, ed., Global Culture: Nationalism, Globalization and Modernity (London: Sage, 1990); Roland Robertson, Globalization: Social Theory and Global Culture (London: Sage, 1992); Jonathan Friedman, Cultural Identity and Global Process (London: Sage, 1994); and God and Globalization, ed. Max Stackhouse et al. four volumes, (Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: Trinity Press International, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2004).


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Globalization brings together many people of differing cultures and differing ethnic backgrounds. As the seas and cultural fences that long kept us apart from our neighbors begin disappearing, we meet people who neither think as we do, nor look like us.24

In such global and cultural circumstances, the standard theologies of church that have been dominant and operative in the Euro-American world for about five hundred years find themselves challenged in no small way.25 A majority of people, as the citation states, does not think as Euro-Americans do. Multi-cultural encounters challenge the western episteme in a radical way, and other cultures do not see Euro-American ways of thinking as the benchmark for all other epistemes. A brief history of the Christian Community and its relationship to culture is in order. • The first was the move from a basically Semitic cultural paradigm and episteme to a Graeco-Roman cultural paradigm and episteme. • The second paradigmatic and epistemic change occurred when the Germanic tribes invaded the western European world. • The third paradigmatic and epistemic change took place from 1100 to 1500 when Latin translations both of Aristotle’s writings and of commentaries on Aristotle written by Arabic and Persian scholars became highly influential in the European universities. • Only in the present situation do we have a fourth major paradigmatic and epistemic Change occasioned by the confrontation of today's philosophical, cultural, and globalized circumstances. In each of these four historical situations a major epistemic and paradigmatic change took place. Let us consider the main issues found in each of these occurrences.

24

See Osborne, Orders and Ministry: Leadership in the World Church, 2. See William Burrows, New Ministries: The Global Context (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books,1980); Elizabeth Isichei, A History of Christianity in Africa (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995); Patrick Kalilombe, Doing Theology at the Grassroots; Theological Essays from Malawi (Gueru, Zimbabwe: Mambo Press, 1999); Peter Phan, Being Religious Inerreligiously: Asian Perspectives on Interfaith Dialogue (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2004); Lamin Sanneh, Whose Religion is Christianity? The Gospel beyond the West, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2003); Yung Hwa, Mangoes or Bananas: The Quest for an Authentic Asian Christian Theology (Oxford/Irvine, California: Oxford Regnum Books, 1997). 25

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a. The Move from a Basically Semitic Cultural Paradigm and Episteme to a Graeco-Roman Cultural Paradigm and Episteme Jesus and his earliest followers were all Jewish, and their episteme was fundamentally Semitic and to a lesser degree Hellenized. In the latter part of the first century and the early part of the second century, the Jesus-communities faced a process of both inculturation and acculturation, as they moved into the dominant Graeco-Roman culture. This face-to-face and daily meeting with a dominant culture produced major changes in the episteme of the Christian Church. By 300 ce, GraecoRoman cultural and philosophical elements had dominated Christian thinking, and the Semitic elements remained at best on the outer edges of the new Christian episteme. This major inculturation-acculturation process created a way of theological discourse that has remained central down to the nineteenth century in both the Eastern and Western Christian Churches. However, the Graeco-Roman cultural influence was only the first paradigmatic process that intellectually restructured in a dominant way the western Christian communities.26 b. The Second Paradigmatic and Epistemic Change Occurred When the Germanic Tribes Invaded the Western European World A second process of paradigmatic inculturation-acculturation took place from 300 ce onward when the so-called Germanic tribes slowly began their immigrations westward. The Franks, perhaps, were the first major group to migrate west, and from the Franks came the great leaders Pepin III and Charlemagne. Other groups included the Lombards, Teutons, Gauls, Goths and Ostrogoths. Each of these groups brought a variety of new cultures and new epistemes into the christianized European world. During the early middle ages, the dominant Christian community of the West slowly assimilated many of these Germanic epistemic and paradigmatic elements. Even today, elements of Germanic origin are noticeable in the Western Church’s liturgy and law. The Germanic epistemic and paradigmatic elements did not totally dominate the 26 Inculturation is a word used almost exclusively by Christian communities. It is a relatively new term in ecclesiology. Its counterpart, acculturation, is a sociological term and was in use long before the Christian world began to use the term inculturation. In the Roman Catholic world, the use of social analysis was and still is a “suspicious” form of methodology, since for some authors social analysis involves a Marxist methodology. Consequently, acculturation is not an acceptable term outside of sociology.


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Graeco-Roman episteme Christian world, for Platonic thought patterns continued their dominance. However, the Germanic elements did bring certain dominance into the two areas mentioned above: the liturgy and the canon law.27 c. The Third Paradigmatic and Epistemic Change Took Place from 1100 to 1500 When Latin Translations both of Aristotle’s Writings and of Commentaries on Aristotle Written by Arabic and Persian Scholars Became Highly Influential in the European Universities A third epistemic and paradigmatic process took place at the beginning of the second millennium, when the works of Arabic scholars re-introduced major texts of Aristotle to Western Europe. By 1200 a philosophical-theological rethinking of unprecedented proportions had begun to take place, particularly in the university settings of Paris, Oxford, Cambridge, and Cologne. A renewed Greek inculturation—this time Aristotelian rather than Platonic—seeped into the episteme of the western Christian world. Both negative and positive repercussions of this change in episteme can be found in the Parisian condemnations of 1277.28 In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, many philosophical works of Aristotle were translated into Latin and made available to the European universities. Prior to the twelfth century, the only Latin translations of Aristotle were his books on logic. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, Aristotle’s works on physics, metaphysics, ethics, rhetoric, and politics were translated into Latin. Along with the works of Aristotle, commentaries on Aristotle written by Arabic and Persian scholar also became available in Latin translation. All of these books became best-sellers in all the European universities at that period of time.29

27

In Canon Law, the requirement to kneel at certain time during the Eucharistic liturgy stems in part from the Germanic cultural tradition of kneeling in the presence of royalty. Kneeling was not the custom in the Graeco-Roman world, since kneeling was a sign of slavery, while standing was a sign of honoring royalty. The gradated punishments for physically striking the pope, bishops, priests, and religious (Canon 1370) was also influenced by Germanic customs that specified severe and gradated punishments for those who struck or killed the king, the queen, their children, and other relatives in a descending order of royalty. 28 See Roland Hissette, Enquêtes sur les 219 articles condamnés à Paris le 7 mars 1277 (Louvain-Paris: Philosophes Médiévaux, 1977). 29 See Steven P. Marrone, “Medieval Philosophy in Context,” The Cambridge Companion to Medieval Philosophy, ed. A. S. McGrath (Cambridge: Cambridge University

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This renewal took place at exactly the same time in which Francis and Clare lived and in which the Franciscan Order was attracting hundreds of young men who were eager to study at the new universities of Europe. Raymond Lull (c. 1232–1316) was a prominent Franciscan tertiary and a lay minister to the Muslims. He learned Arabic and strove to establish among the Franciscan schools classes in which Arabic was taught. Since the Aristotelian Latin translations had entered Europe through the efforts of scholars who had lived in Islamic areas, such as Baghdad, Persia, Egypt, North Africa, and Spain, the Christian world faced a new cultural contact, namely, a peaceful contact with Arabic and Persian ways of thinking.30 The major theologians of the late twelfth century and the entire thirteenth century, such as Robert Grosseteste, John Peckham, Alexander of Hales, Albert the Great, Thomas Aquinas, Bonaventure, and John Duns Scotus, were deeply influence by these Arabic and Persian scholars. Since the thirteenth century, no other major inter-religious and multi-cultural transition has taken place in Europe until today. From the sixteenth century to the early twentieth century, the strong missionary movements of the Christian Churches to Asia and Africa for the most part did not include either dialogues with other religions or inter-cultural meetings. By and large, the European missionary efforts were an implantation of both European culture and Christianity in the non-Christian parts of the world. In many of these missionized areas, the local cultures were discredited, leaving indigenous cultures at the edges of these new colonial empires. From the northern tip of present day Canada to the southern tip of Argentina and Chile, little Europes and little North Americas grew up on Native American land. The same situation occurred in the Asian and African worlds.

Press, 2003): 10–50. His diagram on early translations of Greek, Hebrew, and Arabic works into Latin (44) is especially helpful. 30 Cf., Thérèse-Anne Druart, “Philosophy in Islam,” The Cambridge Companion to Medieval Philosophy: 97–120. Druart indicates that the term “Islamic” is not quite correct, since the group of scholars were of mixed cultural and national backgrounds (98–99).


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d. Only in the Present Situation Do We Have a Fourth Major Paradigmatic and Epistemic Change Occasioned by the Confrontation of Today’s Philosophical, Cultural, and Globalized Circumstances The fourth major paradigmatic and cultural process, this time of global dimensions, began to occur during the late eighteenth century down to the twenty-first century. Its presence was felt first of all in the economic, social, and political venues of western society. In these venues, postmodern ideas and non-Euro-American cultures began to take root. At first, the Christian Churches resisted any epistemic and paradigmatic change as regards their statements of faith and the dominant theologies that explained their faith statements. As the twentieth century wore on, it became evident that the Christian Churches, similar to the social and political world, had to accept some aspects of the epistemic and paradigmatic changes. One important word characterizes the current epistemic and paradigmatic change, and that word is relation (relational, relationship, even relativity). The contemporary understanding of a relational world view is widespread. It can be found throughout the Asian world, the African world, and the First-Nation worlds of the Western Hemisphere. In the Euro-American environment the essentialist approach has been radically challenged by postmodern philosophical thought, by multiculturalism, and by globalization. The standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology of the Roman Catholic Church that had developed within a non-relational philosophical framework stressed the essential, necessary, and immutable structures of the church. The current relational and global worldview presents a challenge to such a position. Thus, a relational ecclesiology would be far more understandable to an overwhelming majority of the current world population, while an immutable and non-relational ecclesiology remains foreign and unintelligible to the majority of the human race. For the Roman Catholic world, Vatican II marked a major moment of this fourth epistemic and paradigmatic reconstruction. In his 1962 Lenten Letter, Pensamiento al Concilio Paul VI, when he was still a cardinal in Milan, raised powerful insights vis-à-vis the up-coming Vatican II.31 In this letter he asked: How does and how can the Roman

31 See Giovanni Battista Cardinal Montini (Paul VI), Pensamiento al Concilio, Pastoral Letter for the Archdiocese of Milan, Lent l962; Eng. trans by Alfred di Lascia in The Church (Baltimore: Helicon, 1964).

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Catholic Church speak to the contemporary world scene? His desire for the council was focused on its ability to express a meaning of a church that would make sense to a globalized, multicultural, and multi-religious world. He also realized, as did many bishops, that postmodern epistemes were seriously challenging the modern episteme that had had been dominant from the sixteenth century onward in the political and social western world. In the 1960s a reiteration of church statements would only bring about a further isolation of the Catholic Church from the global, multicultural, and multi-religious world. Both John XXIII and Paul VI called for an aggiornamento, an up-dating of the church. This call occasioned a rethinking by the bishops at Vatican II as regards the standard, dominant, and operative theology of Catholic Church. An episteme changes only with great difficulty, and for the Western Churches the current paradigmatic and epistemic changes are not taking place without great hesitation on the part of many church people. However, the epistemic change is underway, and this change must be a part of the current renewal of ecclesiology. If this does not happen, then ecclesiology itself will remain incredible for the majority of contemporary human life.

6. The Influence of Contemporary Science on the Formulation of a New Ecclesiology has Slowly Become a Major Player in Today’s Ecclesial Discussions. Both Quantum Mechanics and the Scientific Study of the Age of the Universe Severely Challenge the Christian Position on the “Plan of God” from Creation Onward The issue of science and the age of the universe is an elephant in the drawing room that few current church leaders want to confront. Consequently, I want to state the issue in a fairly lengthy way despite its place in an introductory chapter. However, my comments do not enter into scientific issues in detail; I simply want to express the core issues that confront all religions today. In 1859, Charles Darwin published his book, Origin of Species. Certainly, prior to 1859 there were other scholars whose writings described a new scientific way of viewing our universe, for example, the writings of the French mathematician, Pierre Laplace (1749–1827), but it was Darwin’s book that became a focal point of discussion both-pro-andcon. In 1915, Albert Einstein (1879–1955) outlined his theory of general relativity. From the 1920s onward, many major scientists developed


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the quantum theory. All of this material on quantum mechanics has challenged the classical model of science that is based on cause and effect and is thoroughly deterministic, reductionistic, rational, and objective.32 Contemporary science has challenged Christian Churches through its new way of understanding the world. At the beginning of the third millennium, Christian Churches generally remain engaged in a defense of their doctrines on God and creation. Some church leaders, both ecclesiastical and theological, have presented their defense by saying that the dogmas of the Christian Church are above history, and therefore they are not affected by either scientific or historical data.33 Their defense, however, falls on deaf ears, since the Christian Churches are clearly historical entities. God may be above history, but the Christian Churches are historical to their core. Other Christian writers have attempted to use a theory of “intelligent design.”34 This theory has met with severe opposition. There remains even today a tension between the physical sciences and religious positions. A paradigm change has taken place in the scientific world, but the majority of Christian Churches have not yet found such a change totally acceptable. In the early 1920s, the quantum theory came to its mature flowering. Quantum mechanics developed through the work of Erwin Schrödinger and Werner Heisenberg, and moved into more dominance through the work of research scientists such as Wolfgang Pauli, Paul Adrien Dirac, Eugene Paul Wigner, Max Born, Niels Bohr, Pascual Jordan, and Johann von Neumann. In his book Quantum Theology, Diarmuid O’Murchu states that contemporary science challenges the standard, dominant, and operative theologies of the Christian world. This challenge affects not 32 For details, see Diarmuid O’Murchu, Quantum Theology, (New York: Crossroad Publishing Company, 2004), 24–40. See also Robert John Russell, Nancy Murphy, and C. J. Isham, eds., Quantum Cosmology and the Laws of Nature (Vatican City: Vatican Observatory Publications, 1993). 33 Both Paul VI and John Paul II spoke of the gospel as being above history and therefore unaffected by history. This view includes the position that the gospel is above any and all scientific discoveries and that the gospel remains unchanged no matter what the physical sciences present. 34 See Philip Johnson, The Wedge of Truth: Splitting the Foundations of Naturalism (Downers Grove, Illinois: Inter-Varsity Press, 1999); William A. Dembski, Intelligent Design: The Bridge between Science and Theology (Downers Grove, Illinois: InterVarsity Press, 1999). Opponents of intelligent design include: John F. Haught, Deeper than Darwin: the Prospects for Religion in the Age of Evolution (Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, 2003); Kenneth Miller, Finding Darwin’s God. A Scientist’s Search for Common Ground between God and Evolution (New York: Cliff Street Books, 1999).

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only the Franciscan theological tradition regarding God and creation, but also the Augustinian tradition and the Dominican tradition as well. O’Murchu expresses this challenge as follows. The quantum vision shatters many of our accepted and cherished norms and opens us up to another worldview. . . . The scientific discoveries of the twentieth century have altered, quite radically our understanding of the world we inhabit and our role within it as co-creators. Above all else we must change our mind-set, our perceptions of how we comprehend and understand the world of our time.35

O’Murchu’s book is certainly not the last word on the contemporary issue of religion and science, but it is a book written for contemporary theologians, urging them to face up to major scientific findings.36 O’Murchu’s positions and conclusion can be challenged and should be challenged. Nonetheless, his challenge to theologians and to churches to take contemporary science seriously requires much more effort than a statement that both science and religion are based on the same creator God. Let us consider this challenge in a brief way. Jim Al-Khalili, in his book, Quantum: A Guide for the Perplexed, indicates how and when the Quantum Theory developed.37 First of all, the phrase Quantum has been replaced by Quantum Mechanics. Quantum thinking is no longer theoretical. Quantum mechanics are now factual. Al-Kahili writes: The former [quantum theory] is used to refer to the state of affairs during the period 1900–1920 when everything was at the level of simple postulates and formulae that helped clarify some issues surrounding the nature of light and the structure of atoms. It wasn’t until the 1920s that the real revolution took place, and a completely new worldview (quantum mechanics) replaced Newton’s mechanics, when it came to describing the underlying structure of the subatomic world.38

Concomitant with this understanding of the atomic and sub-atomic world, scientists have considered the universe itself and have developed 35

Diarmuid O’Murchu, Quantum Theology, 215. The material on science and religion is abundant. The bibliography in Quantum Theology is indicative of this abundance, 223–233. The Center for Theology and the Natural Sciences that is affiliated to the Graduate Theological Union, Berkeley, California has become a major source for material on the issue of contemporary science and contemporary religion. Cf., [email protected]. 37 Jim Al-Khalili, Quantum: A Guide for the Perplexed (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2003) 26–51. 38 Ibid., 30. See also 72–75, 156–184. 36


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several conclusions on the age of the universe. One such numerical calculation for the age of the universe presents a stark confrontation to the usual Christian presentation of God’ plan for creation. Age of the universe: Homo sapiens: Difference:

15, 000, 000, 000 100, 000 14, 999, 900, 000

In this perspective, we are looking backward, and the enormity of the perspective is overwhelming. A world that is fifteen billion years old challenges all our thought processes. Even a million years is a staggering concept for many people. The problem becomes even more overwhelming when scientists indicate that “our Big Bang universe is only one small domain in a virtually unlimited ‘multiverse’.”39 In this backward-looking perspective, a multi-universe possibility goes even farther beyond fifteen billion years. We can also look forward, but here too a forward-looking perspective is overwhelming. The sun—more carefully singled out as “our sun”—is as of right now gradually dying. There will come a time when our sun will no longer be able to emit adequate energy to maintain the gravitational objects encircling it. Eventually, the loss of gravitational force will cause a destruction of our entire solar system. The self-destruction of our sun is a given and there is nothing that can be done to remedy the predicament. In this forward-looking scenario, our solar system will eventually become what many scientists call a black hole. Even though our sun may cease to emit enough energy to sustain the solar system, that includes the earth, the remainder of the universe will continue to exist. The remainder of the universe does not depend on the existence of our solar system; rather, our solar system depends on the wider cosmos. When our solar system begins to turn into a black hole, human life on our earth cannot be sustained. All life on our earth including human life will simply disappear. Practically speaking, what does this backward and forward computation imply? What major effects does this computation of time have on

39 See John F. Haught, Christianity and Science: Toward a Theology of Nature, 111. Chapter seven of this volume, “Cosmology and Creation,” goes into detail on the matter of the Big Bang theory and its implications vis-à-vis the Christian understanding of creation. See also Quantum Cosmology and the Laws of Nature, edd. Robert John Russell, Nancy Murphy, and C. J. Isham.

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our Christian world view and the standard approach to God’s plan for creation? Some of the major implications are as follows. • The cosmos existed for billions of years without the presence of human beings; • The cosmos can continue to exist for billions of years even if all human life is destroyed; • Human beings, whether we look backward at the history of the cosmos or whether we look forward to the future on the cosmos, are relatively miniscule and insignificant; • Our own planetary system does not depend on the existence of human beings. Does this kind of computation complicate an understanding of a Christian God today? The answer is assuredly yes. Let us consider some attempts made by theologians and church leadership to come to grips with the scientific issues just mentioned. a. A Theological Relocation of the God’s Creative Presence All human beings today who believe in God are faced with these cosmic implications. There is a facile theological response that some Christians easily turn to, namely, that the Creator-God in whom we believe remains the same forever. God created the world, and whether the age of the world is ten thousand years old or fifteen billion years old, God is still its creator. For an infinite God and a First Cause God, numbers are meaningless. An infinite, first-cause God can providentially direct the course of a ten-thousand-year-old universe as easily as a fifteenbillion-year-old universe. This same infinite and first-cause God can providentially direct not only “our Big-Bang universe” but also any and every “mulitverse” that some scientists postulate.40 An infinite God exceeds all billions and trillions of years, since God is infinite. Moreover, a first-cause God cannot be surpassed by any cause-effect situation in the universe or multiverse, since a first-cause God always hold a primary position. God is the first cause of a fifteen-billion-yearold universe, and God would also be the first cause of a fifteen-trillion-

40 Hugh Everett III seems to have been the first to posit a multiverse. He was followed by David Deutsch.


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multi-universe. There is no possible way of going beyond a being that is both first-cause and uniquely infinite. In other words, some Christians simply relocate the God whose creation of the world is described in Genesis to a far earlier period of time. For these Christians, fifteen billion years do not make any difference to an infinite first-cause God. In this relocation of God’s creative act, God is still the creator of all things seen and unseen. The Catechism of the Catholic Church expresses this relocation view in a clear way: Methodological research in all branches of knowledge, provided it is carried out in a truly scientific manner and does not override moral laws, can never conflict with the faith, because the things of the world and the things of faith derive from the same God. The humble and persevering investigator of the secrets of nature is being led, as it were, by the hand of God in spite of himself, for it is God, the conserver of all things, who made them what they are.41

The God-question vis-à-vis the major contemporary problem is, in the above scenario, not totally convincing. In the above scenario only two aspects of God are stressed: God’s infinity and God as first cause. Do these two aspects alone truly “define” God in a Christian way? Is a relocation of God to a multi-billion-year-old point of time too simplistic? Answers to these questions cannot be made without some further information. Let us move to a second Christian approach to the God question and contemporary science. b. God Had an Original Plan for All of Creation In the Christian tradition, God had an original plan for all of creation. However, it is one thing to speak of God’s plan from the Genesis view of creation down to the lifetime of Jesus and from there to a “final” parousia.42 It is quite another matter to speak of God’s original plan for all of creation, when we are dealing with a fifteen-billion-year-old universe or a zillion-year-old-multi-universe. It is a two-fold claim that causes the impasse. First there is the claim that God had a plan for all creation, and secondly there is the claim that God has revealed that plan to the Christian. Certainly, an infinite God can be the creator and first cause 41

See Catechism of the Catholic Church, 159. This paragraph is a quotation from the Vatican II document, Church in the Modern World: 36, 1. 42 See Catechism of the Catholic Church, “God Carries out his Plan: Divine Providence,” 302–305.

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of all things, but to claim that God had and has a plan for all creation and that God has revealed this universal plan to the Christian Church becomes profoundly complicated when one is dealing with fifteen billion years of the universe and the possibility of a multi-verse. In the sacred scriptures, in the writings of the both the Fathers of the Church and of the early theologians of the first three centuries, and in the rich traditions of the Eastern and Western Churches, there are powerful passages describing God’ plan of creation. The tradition of the Christian Church has maintained that God, from the first moment of creation onward, had a plan for all created reality. The Jewish roots of Christianity also express the divine plan for creation. In his essay on “Creation,” Denis Carroll notes that the Hebrew word bara (create) denotes for the Jewish world of Old Testament times “the independence and transcendence of God’s creative work.”43 In the Old Testament, bara appears forty-seven times, and twenty of these appearances of bara are in Deutero-Isaiah (Isaiah, chapters 40 to 56). Carroll continues: Drawing upon an existing, although possibly latent creation faith, Deutero-Isaiah shows that God’s salvific power embraces not only this small Jewish people but the whole world. The God of the covenant is the God who created—and who therefore has power over—the universe. Over Babylon and its gods. Over Cyrus the liberal king. Over diviners, soothsayers and wise men. Over natural, human and preternatural forces.44

In the New Testament, the letter to the Ephesians speaks of God’s plan of creation that brings everything into unity in and through Jesus (Eph 1:9–10). God’s plan of creation reaches its highpoint in Jesus. The hymn in the letter to the Colossians (Col 1:15–20) tells us that in Jesus “were created all things in heaven ad on earth.” The prologue of John’s gospel includes this passage: “All things came to be through him [the Word], and without him nothing came to be” (Jn 1:3). The early teachers of the church continued this presentation of God’s plan for all creation that culminates in Jesus. Irenaeus of Lyon (c. 130–200) struggled against a Gnostic view of an evil God and a good God, and he emphasizes the overarching plan of a creator God

43

Dennis Carroll, “Creation,” The New Dictionary of Theology (Wilmington, Delaware: Michael Glazier, 1987) edd. Joseph Komonchak, Mary Collins, and Dermot Lane: 246. 44 Ibid., 246.


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that reaches a climax in Jesus. The Eastern Fathers of the Church, such as Origen (c. 185–254) stressed that through creation God’s plan is to lead all men and women to an ultimate unity through Christ into the final life with God. In this emphasis on God’s original plan for all creation, a Christian understanding of God as infinite being and as first cause became inadequate. Slowly but surely, God was also regarded as the provident creator, whose plan was to bring all of creation into an ultimate union through the highpoint of all creation, the human nature of the Logos, Jesus Christ. The role of Jesus in God’s plan of creation adds to an understanding of God that is more than infinite and unique power and primal causality. The inclusion of Jesus in God’s plan stresses the relationality of God to creation in the form of diffusive goodness, absolute freedom, and unending love. Today, Christian theologians have to provide some reasonable connection to a universe that for fifteen billion years seems to have no connection to Jesus at all. Christian theologians have also to provide a basis why Jesus is the apex of creation, if and when the solar system is destroyed together with all human life, and yet the remainder of the cosmos continues on. In this scenario, how can Jesus be the acme of all creation? To maintain that the end of the entire world will take place prior to the destruction of the sun is a claim that cannot be substantiated. The challenge from contemporary science to the assertion that God had an original plan for all of creation rests on two issues. The first issue is the vast length of time that the universe covers. How do fifteen billion years lead up to a single human nature, that of Jesus that incarnates the Logos? Too many seemingly extraneous things happened during those fifteen billion years that seem to have no direct or even indirect bearing on a “culmination” in Jesus. Secondly, if human life is the apex of creation and the incarnate Jesus is the apex of human life, how is it possible that human life could be eliminated by the currently ongoing dissipation of solar energy and the remainder of the universe would continue to exist? Neither of these two issues totally discredits the view that God had an original plan for all of creation. They simply raise questions on the verification of such a plan over fifteen billion years on the one hand, and on the other hand how God’s original plan for all of creation that centers on human life and even more intensely on the human life of Jesus can coexist with a universe that has no dependence at all on the existence or non-existence of human life.

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The new scientific positions contradict a view that has been called “speciesism.” Speciesism refers to the grossly exaggerated and highly destructive role we attribute to our human species. Implicit in this claim is the perception that we, at this stage in our evolutionary unfolding, comprise the highest possible form of creaturehood. In other words, we assume that we are the end of the evolutionary line, with no possibility of a better or more enlightened being evolving in the future.45

Over the centuries, much of Christian theology has focused on the plan of God for creation with the climax of creation centered on human life, especially the apex of human life in the humanity of Jesus. Today, we need to rethink this plan of God for creation given the data that contemporary science offers. For the Franciscan tradition, that clearly includes a “divine plan” from creation onward—an original plan of creation in that Jesus is predestined as first among all creatures—the current scientific issues on the origins of our universe and the possibility of a multi-verse present an enormous challenge. I will address this in chapter seven.

7. The Influence of Postmodern Thinking on the Euro-American World Is Strongly Affecting the Reformulation of Contemporary Ecclesiology The internet has changed the scope of human knowledge in an extraordinary way. International data is immediately known throughout the globe. Not only major events, important declarations, and details regarding important people are known almost immediately around the world, there is also an immediate wealth of detailed knowledge that ordinary people can acquire about specific people and specific themes. Ordinary people can quickly obtain both positive and negative reactions as well as minute details of analysis on what was said, what was done, and why it was said or done. Although English dominates the internet, non-western views are becoming more pervasive, since non-westerners are becoming the majority of users. Non-western ways of thinking and speaking have entered the twenty-first century with a globalized intensity. 45

O’Murchu, 153.


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Christian Church leadership has not been immune to this instant and detailed analysis. A current example of an immediate reaction occurred when Pope Benedict XVI spoke in Regensburg and cited an anti-Islamic statement.46 Almost immediately there was an international negative reaction to his words. Ordinary people were immediately informed with details about the exact source of the anti-Islamic citation. In the Episcopal Community, the election of a woman bishop as leader of the Episcopal Church in America experienced the same immediate and detailed analysis. So, too, the ordination of a homosexual bishop in the Anglican Community has had an immediate international reaction. Statements of “official church teaching” are also subject to a computer search. The ordinary Christian can obtain a wealth of material on a particular church teaching, only to find that the teaching was never uniform nor “always taught.” Circumstantial events more than divine revelation had brought about a particular “official church teaching.” One of the most complicated and most difficult issues that raises questions about its “official and unchanging status” is that of Christian Marriage. When did Christian Church leadership begin to make its claim that only marriages that the church sanctioned are valid marriages? How long did local marriage customs, unfettered by Church law, remain acceptable to the Christian Community? The history of Christian marriage

46

See Benedict XVI’s lecture at the University of Regensburg, Sept. 20, 2006. English translation from Catholic New Service: “In all honesty, one must observe that in the late Middle Ages we find trends in theology that would sunder this synthesis between the Greek spirit and the Christian spirit. In contrast with the so-called intellectualism of Augustine and Thomas, there arose with Duns Scotus a voluntarism that ultimately led to the claim that we can only know God’s voluntas ordinata. Beyond this is the realm of God’s freedom, in virtue of which he could have done the opposite of everything he has actually done. This gives rise to positions that clearly approach those of Ibn Hazn and might even lead to the image of a capricious God, who is not even bound to truth and goodness. God’s transcendence and otherness are so exalted that our reason, our sense of the true and good, are no longer an authentic mirror of God, whose deepest possibilities remain eternally unattainable and hidden behind his actual decisions.” His appraisal of both Scotus and Scotus’ influence is misleading. Other writers have made the same judgement regarding Scotus’ voluntas ordinata. For a correct under standing of Scotus’ position, see Allan Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1986), 9–29; Mary Elizabeth Ingham, Scotus for Dunces (St. Bonaventure, New York: The Franciscan Institute, 2003), 49–66; E. Grzondziel, Die Entwicklung der Unterscheidung zwischen der Potentia Dei Absoluta und der. Potentia Dei Ordinata von Augustin bis Alexander Hales (Diss. Breslau, 1926).

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has emerged in the twentieth century and has left a wake of serious questions still unanswered by third-millennium Church leadership.47 The historical studies on all of the sacraments, that took place during the twentieth century, are now at the fingertips of any Christian who wants to look them up on the computer. In the Roman Catholic world, a phrase that has often occurred has been: “The Church has always taught.” Historical research, however, on many sacramental issues indicates that the Catholic Church did not “always” teach a given position. The leadership of the Western Christian Churches has not reacted favorably to this explosion of knowledge. Church leadership is rightfully conservative and the status quo needs to be maintained. However, maintaining the status quo has, today, been challenged by a host of historical material. Current church leadership has at times “circled the wagons” to maintain its standard theological positions. This defensive circling of the wagons is evident in the leadership’s response to the explosion of knowledge on issues such as apostolic succession, the role of women in the church, the belief in the superiority of the Christian Church over all other religions, and the teaching that Jesus Christ is the only savior of men and women. At this moment of time, we have no clear indication how Christian leadership will come to terms with today’s explosion of knowledge. Two words, episteme and paradigmatic, need to be further clarified since I will be using them with some frequency. In Les Mots et les choses, Michel Foucault speaks of a discursive practice, namely, a whole set of common themes or ideas produced within a broad period of time and throughout a wide variety of various disciplines and multiple areas of human endeavor.48 Foucault calls such a conceptual unity an epistemé. A particular episteme becomes extremely vital when it achieves a certain dominance. In combing through his book and assembling all his ideas

47 On the issue of the history of Christian marriage, see Theodore Macken, What is Marriage (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1982); Divorce and Remarriage (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1984); and The Marital Sacrament (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1989). See also Edward Schillebeeckx, Marriage: Human Reality and Saving Mystery, (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1965), Eng. Trans. N. D. Smith; George Joyce, Christian Marriage: An Historical and Doctrinal Study (London: Sheed and Ward, 1948); and Henri Rondet, Introduction à l’étude de la théologie du mariage (Paris: Lethielleux, 1960). 48 Michel Foucault, Les Mots et les choses. Eng. trans. A. M. Sheridan, The Order of Things: An Archeology of the Human Sciences (New York: Pantheon, 1982).


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on episteme, I have arrived at the following description of Foucault’s episteme. An episteme has both an origin and a demise. The origin of a particular intellectual tradition or episteme is not culturally the radical beginning of the tradition. Rather, a particular intellectual tradition or episteme is marked by a certain dominance. The space and time when the particular epistemic tradition begins to dominate constitutes its actual place of origin as a dominant episteme. So, too, the demise of a particular intellectual tradition is not the final moment of its life. Rather, the space and time wherein and when a particular epistemic tradition begins to lose its dominance is the actual time and place of its demise.49

The main issue for an understanding of epistemic change has to do with the struggle over dominance. A new episteme begins to arise slowly. It only gains major significance when it seriously challenges the thendominant and accepted episteme of a given social community. If the new episteme does become dominant, the older episteme begins to lose control. Eventually, the older episteme ceases to have any power. In the west, such a situation has happened only four times as we saw above. The word paradigmatic received strong recognition through the writings of Thomas Kuhn.50 For Kuhn, paradigm belonged in his original description (1959) primarily to the scientific world, but by 1961 he had expanded its content to global proportions. Science is a group process, he argued, and there needs to be a consensus on the major issues such as how to do research, how to define certain entities, how to evaluate, etc. The meaning of something scientific becomes valid with the gradual consensus of a group. Kuhn’s first attempts at consensus proved inconclusive, and “the concept of paradigms proved to be the missing element.”51 Paradigmatic thinking within the scientific field involves the major realities that structure a consensus. Kuhn notes that the pardigmatic framework began simply as a means for exemplary problem solutions, but the focus of many people who had read his

49 See Kenan Osborne, Christian Sacraments in a Postmodern World (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1999), 57 and 214–215. 50 See Thomas Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolution (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1962) first edition. 51 Kuhn, The Essential Tension (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1977), xix. In the preface of this volume of essays, Kuhn reviews in a lengthy and autobiographical way his journey as regards the use of the term, paradigm. The essay, “Second Thoughts on Paradigms,” 293–319, provides a description of his later understanding of paradigm.

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initial book took his terminology into global dimensions that Kuhn had not intended. Some confusion on the meaning of the term paradigm resulted from this global emphasis, since, as Kuhn wrote: “many of the things there said about paradigms (in his early volume) apply only to the original sense of the term (the scientific framework).”52 Nonetheless, paradigm is an “in” word today, and signifies the structural forces of major intellectual change. The paradigmatic and epistemic change in the Euro-American world is often referred to as postmodern. There is no adequate definition of the term postmodern. In my own writings, I have suggested that postmodern thinking is like a huge umbrella under which a variety of people take shelter. There is an understanding of postmodern art, postmodern literature, postmodern philosophy, post modern social structures, etc. Even in these various groups there are postmodern writers who will not communicate with other postmodern writers. There is no unity to the groups that form the postmodern world. Nonetheless, in postmodern philosophy, often called phenomenology, there are some major and fundamental issues. I will use the term, postmodern philosophy, in a way that is based on phenomenology. Husserl, in his lectures at the University of Göttingen in 1907, took a pivotal step when he introduced his phenomenological reduction. His purpose in this reduction was to achieve a decisive overcoming of what the French translator of this work had called “la situation phénoménale du clivage.” This clivage was the split between subject/object that had presided over the origin and subsequent unfolding of modern philosophy from Descartes onwards.53 Husserl re-related for the western world the subject/object split. This move, however, challenges the very notion of “objective truth.” His successor, Martin Heidegger, added immensely to phenomenology. First of all, Heidegger’s use of the word Sein does not correspond to the use of the term being that had dominated the western world from Augustine onward. Sein and Dasein refer to the contingent world and have no connection to a divine entity. Heidegger also reinterpreted Existenz. For Heidegger, Existenz is the Dasein’s process from the ontic to the ontological, a process that culminates in Sein zum Tode. For Heidegger, truth is not the correspondence of the mind

52

Kuhn, The Essential Tension, xx. See Gary B. Madison, “Hermeneutics: Gadamer and Ricoeur,” Continental Philosophy in the Twentieth Century, ed. Richard Kearney: v. 8: 297–298. 53


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to something in the non-mental world. Rather, he moves to an understanding of time earlier than Aristotle and revives the original meaning of Alethia (αλήθεια), which is “not “—the alpha privativa—revealedness. Truth emerges from the hidden to the seen. In this relational and processive world, the individual Dasein is more than mere particularity. In his volume, Identität und Differenz, the Dasein is actually an “In-derWelt-mit-anderen-Da-sein.” There is an ontological relationship between an individual Dasein with both the world and with others. Once again, a profound relational interconnection exists throughout our human world. Heideger’s successor is Maurice Merleau-Ponty whose volume Phénoménologie de la perception argues that a human being sees the world from his or her own perspective. This perspectival approach is repeated in his essay “Le Primat de la perception et ses consequences philosophiques,” in that he says: “The way you see red and the way I see red are different.”54 The third phenomenological successor, Paul Ricoeur, focuses on the conflict of interpretation that arises from the phenomenology of the spirit and the archeology of the unconscious. Ricoeur speaks in a relational way. The above is simply a brief résumé of some basic points of postmodern philosophy that I will use throughout this volume whenever I speak of postmodern thought. Relationality is central to this philosophical approach.

8. Conclusions Slowly but surely the western intellectual framework has experienced an epistemic and paradigmatic change during the last one-hundred and fifty years. Throughout the world, the dominance of the standard western philosophical episteme has weakened. A paradigmatic shift is currently taking place on a global scale. This epistemic and paradigmatic change has affected almost all facets of western culture, including the Christian Churches and their respective theologies. At the heart of both the epistemic and paradigmatic change is the issue of relationality. This will become evident in the later chapters of this present volume. 54

Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Phénoménologie de la Perception (Paris: Gallimard, 1957; see also “The Primacy of Perception and Its Philosophical Consequences,” The Primacy of Perception (Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University Press, 1964) ed. James M. Edie: 12–42. The citation is found on p. 17.

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From 1800 to 2000 ce, relationality has slowly become an unavoidable issue. Major relational changes and innovations have affected not only the western world but also the Asian and African worlds, as well as the worlds of Central and South America. The relational changes have affected not only the economic, political, social, and intellectual globalized world, they have also affected the religious world. In a profound way, the Christian Church finds itself at the beginning of the third millennium in a relational situation that can only be described as a situation of epistemic and paradigmatic change. The third millennium offers a distinctive challenge, since for the first time in world history has there been such a global concentration on key issues of human life. The third millennium, therefore, has need of a third millennial ecclesiology. The newness and global structure of this situation can be more sharply identified by a consideration of four defining categories. a. The Epistemic Dominance of the Western Culture Has Been Seriously Challenged Vis-à-vis the churches, this challenge affects the epistemic dominance that Western Christian theology has enjoyed over the past one thousand years. This theological dominance has been severely challenged by the basic paradigms of a multi-cultural and globalized contemporary world,55 and by the explosion of human knowledge created by the computer and on-line technology. b. Multi-Culturalism Has Become a Globalized Phenomenon Vis-à-vis the churches, a diversity of cultures is no longer simply a localized phenomenon, involving neighboring tribes, states, and regions. Nor is multi-culturalism seen today as a phenomenon in that one culture (i.e., the western culture) is the benchmark for all other cultures. Rather, multi-cultural interrelationships need to be seen as equi-cultural relationships. Equi-cultural inter-relationships should be clearly visible in churches that proclaim the gospel of Jesus; otherwise a theology of church will remain incredible.

55 See Kenan Osborne, Orders and Ministry: Leadership in the World Church, 11–29.


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c. Dialogues between Major World Religions Have Reached a New and Critical Dimension Vis-à-vis the churches, dialogues between various religions have taken place at many stages of their history. However, the quality and depth of the contemporary dialogues between key world religions have never been so profound nor have the stakes ever been so high as they are today. Key to the inter-religious dialogues is the issue of salvation. The Christian Churches have been challenged in a profound way as regards their claim to be the only source of salvation. d. Contemporary Science Has Changed the Vision of the Universe in a Fundamental Way Quantum mechanics and the age of the universe seem to constitute the elephant in the parlor as far as Christian theology is concerned. There are contemporary theologians who have focused on these scientific positions, but they are as yet few in number. An ecclesiology with its contextualizing theology that does not take into account the data from science will be considered by many as incredible. The challenges from the scientific world have become a major issue for the renewal of a theology of church.

CHAPTER THREE

THE HISTORICAL STARTING POINT: ECCLESIOLOGY FROM 1500 TO THE BEGINNING OF THE THIRD MILLENNIUM

The overarching theme of this chapter can be stated in simple terms: namely, the material presented in chapter three describes the historical development of Christian systematic ecclesiologies. Certain guidelines might help for the interpretation of this historical material. • Although systematic theology began in the twelfth century, the first appearance of a systematic ecclesiology occurred only in the sixteenth century. From the sixteenth century to the latter part of the twentieth century, individual church denominations, each in its own format, began to establish in their ecclesiologies various key issues which became for their Christian Community dominant, standard, and operative positions. These various ecclesiologies reflected the main tenets of faith as understood in their respective tradition. The sixteenth century origins of systematic ecclesiology provide the terminus a quo for this chapter. • In an individual denomination, a small number of ecclesiological issues were considered as essential and necessary. These essential characteristics provided the foundation on which each denominational church could assert that “their church was truly the one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church.” In the Roman Catholic Church, these fundamental and essential issues were designated as dogmas of faith. • In the Roman Catholic Church, less central ecclesiological issues were construed in two ways: first, there were designated as “official elements,” that were of great importance but not de fide catholica. Liturgical rituals and canonical legislation offer excellent examples of such official but not de fide catholica issues. Liturgical rituals can be modified without contradicting matters of faith, and canonical legislation can be rewritten in ways which do not endanger the faith of the church. The second classification of the non-dogmatic ecclesial

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matters involves those issues which are clearly seen as theological opinions.1 • In the Roman Catholic theological world from the sixteenth century to the first half of the twentieth century, some major ecclesiological issues came to be considered as necessary and immutable. Necessity and immutability, however, were at times based on philosophical rather than on theological factors. Thomas Aquinas had accepted a major position of Aristotle, Now that which is must needs be when it is, and that which is not must need not be when it is not.2

In the philosophy of Aristotle, the issues of diachronic and synchronic contingency played a major role.3 Through the writings of Thomas Aquinas this philosophical issue became part and parcel of Roman Catholic thought. Synchronic contingency was considered “relativistic,” and therefore unacceptable. Only diachronic contingency was allowed. Most Catholic theologians between the late 1500s and the new millennium followed this dictate of Aristotle, if not in an overt way then in an indirect way. Necessary theological positions were often described as immutable positions. There are, however, two understandings of immutability. Antonie Vos describes the situation as follows: In terms of the history of the ontological theory of immutability there seems to be two distinct ways of handling the concept. Most literature on the subject is only familiar with the one concept of immutability according to which immutability and necessity coincide.4

One could elaborate on this first theory of immutability as follows. If p is necessary, then p is immutable, and if p is immutable, then p is necessary. In this format whatever is essential is considered both necessary and immutable. This view of immutability corresponds

1 For a detailed description of these theological classifications of dogma, official statements, theological opinions, cf. Ioachim Salaverri, “De Ecclesia Christi,” Sacrae Theologiae Summa (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Christianos, 1962): 790–805. 2 Aristotle, On Interpretation: The Basic Works of Aristotle, ed. Richard McKeon, (New York: Modern Library, 2001), chapter 9, § 23, p. 48. 3 See Antonie Vos Jaczn, H. Veldhuis, A. H. Looman-Graaskamp, E. Dekker, and N. W. den Bok, Contingency and Freedom (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1994). 4 Antonie Vos, The Philosophy of John Duns Scotus (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006), 207.

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to the axiom in Aristotle: “Now that which is must needs be when it is, and that which is not must need not be when it is not” (italics added). Aristotle’s philosophical interrelationship engendered a view in Catholic theology that certain “teachings” were essential, necessary, and immutable, precisely because the church teaching itself referred to actual existing things. If a reality actually is, then it is also immutable. In chapter four, the second way of viewing immutability will be considered in a detailed manner. At this juncture it is sufficient to note that the alternative view stresses synchronic contingency, and therefore the second view is undergirded by a philosophy which allows for synchronic contingency. This philosophy is contingency ontology. Contingency ontology is a major philosophical basis for the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition. If one subscribes to contingency ontology, the issues of necessity and immutability are radically changed.5 Contingency ontology engenders a relational view of all reality, including the church. • The terminus ad quem for this chapter begins with the initial indications of a breakdown of an essentialist ecclesiology. This occurred the nineteenth century. An even more intense call for reformulation took place during the first half of the twentieth century with the development of globalizd ecumenism. Later, the Second Vatican Council provided an official approval for church authority to make major revisions of this standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology of the Catholic Church. In contrast to the earlier theological call for ecclesiological revision, the bishops at Vatican II, which was an official council of the Church, offered to the Catholic world an official call for ecclesiological revision. The terminus ad quem of this chapter, therefore, indicates a process, just as the terminus a quo in this chapter began as a process in the sixteenth century. • At the beginning of the third millennium, a struggling and at times quarrelsome process regarding the acceptance or non-acceptance of several key Vatican II issues continues to take place. Some theologians and church leaders today cling to the standard, dominant, and

5 Vos, op. cit., chapter two. See also Giorgio Pini, Categories and Logic in Duns Scotus: An Interpretation of Aristotle’s Categories in the Late Thirteenth Century (Leiden: Brill, 2002), 19–44; 99–137.

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operative form of ecclesiology. However, the majority of Catholic theologians today have attempted to integrate many ecclesial insights of Vatican II into a more developed and coherent form. These theologians are more receptive of certain issues of ecclesiology found in the conciliar documents. Nonetheless, a vocal minority of theologians and church leaders continue to stonewall conciliar changes in ecclesiology. The Reception of Vatican II by Giuseppe Alberigo, Jean-Pierre Jossua, and Joseph A. Komonchak gathers together these differing and dissident voices.6 Paul Pulikkan in his article, “The Reception of the Second Vatican Council in the Indian Church and Areas of Further Realization,” offers an Asian appraisal of the post-conciliar period.7 • Neither the terminus ad quem nor the terminus a quo of this chapter occurred at a definite moment of time that can be easily pinpointed. Rather, both the point of departure and the point of critical and reformative change were processes: a beginning process that started slowly and grew to dominance and an ending process that started with initial challenges in the early 1800s but gained momentum from 1900 to 1962 and is still operative within all of the western Christian Churches. • This chapter is called an “historical starting point.” On the issue of the current renewal of ecclesiology, one can legitimately ask: how have we arrived at today’s understanding of a theology of church? How have we reached a point of time in which the meaning of church is not clear to all Christians? An answer to this kind of enquiry requires a detailed understanding of the historical beginnings of systematic theologies of church, their historical development, and the rise of their current challenges. Such an overview provides us today with the context vis-à-vis contemporary church discussion. • The reformations of the sixteenth century involved issues far beyond religion. There were social and political issues which provided the engines for these reforms. There were also philosophical issues which engendered these same reforms. In the following pages, I am looking 6 Giuseppe Alberigo, Jean-Pierre Jossua, and Joseph A. Komonchak, edd., The Reception of Vatican II (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 1988). 7 Paul Pulikkan, “The Reception of the Second Vatican Council in the Indian Church and Areas of Further Realization,” Vidyajyoti Journal of Theological Reflection 71 (2007): 285–301. See also Peter Phan, “Reception of Vatican II in Asia: Historical and Theological Analysis,” Gregorianum, 83 (2002): 269–285.


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at the sixteenth century reforms from a specific angle: the formulation, for the first time ever, of systematic ecclesiologies. Such a focus does not negate the wider issues; such a focus simply centers on one of the many foci of the Reformation Era. For the sake of organization, the chapter is divided into five main parts, followed by some concluding observations. 1. The historical emergence of systematic ecclesiology: from the sixteenth century to the beginning of the third millennium. 2. The basic characteristics of the Roman Catholic ecclesiology that developed from the time of Trent onward. 3. The claim of apostolicity by Roman Catholic authors in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. 4. The contemporary reality of ecclesiology and its directions towards a renewed theology of church. 5. Conclusions.

1. The Historical Emergence of Systematic Ecclesiology: from the Sixteenth Century to the Beginning of the Third Millennium The New Testament speaks of the early church community in an abundant way, but by itself the New Testament does not offer us a systematized theology of the church. The early fathers of the church also focused on the community called church. However, in the writings of these early bishops and theologians there is no single volume or treatise that one can designate as an ecclesiology. Patristic authors make abundant references to the church and describe many elements of church life, but they do not in a single work present a comprehensive view of the church in a way in that we today call an ecclesiology. Two volumes of the Handbuch der Dogmengeschichte offer us a major overview of the understanding of church in the early centuries. First of all, there is the volume by Pierre-Thomas Camelot, Die Lehre von der Kirche: Väterzeit bis ausschliesslich Augustinus.8 Camelot begins with

8 Pierre-Thomas Camelot, Die Lehre von der Kirche: Väterzeit bis ausschliesslich Augustinus (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1970).

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Hippolytus (c. 170–c. 236) and ends with Optatus of Mileve who died prior to 400.9 Throughout his presentation, Camelot indicates that a systematic theology did not develop during this period of time. One can only say that the foundations for an eventual systematic ecclesiology were established during these early years.10 Over and over again, however, Camelot devotes pages to the role of the bishop of Rome during these first centuries.11 Although he calls the six volume work of Optatus, De schismate Donatistorum libri septem, “eine schöne systematischere Ekklesiologie,” there seems to be few scholars who would agree with him. The second volume in this series dedicated to the church is that of Yves Congar, Die Lehre von der Kirche: Von Augustinus bis zum Abendländischen Schisma.12 In the opening chapter on Augustine, Congar states clearly that for Augustine, the City of God and the Church are synonymous: “In einer Fülle von Texten gebraucht Augustinus ‘Kirche’ und ‘Civitas Dei’ gleichwertig, oder er wechselt mit beiden Begriffen ab.”13 Other major scholars, however, disagree with Congar’s position. In the “Introduction” of his English translation of De Civitate Dei, David Knowles explains Augustine’s meaning of the phrase “City of God” and pointedly indicates that Augustine does not identify the City of God with the church.14 Richard McBrien, in his volume, The Church:

9

See Camelot, op. cit., 2–4 regarding Hippolyt von Rom; 61–63 regarding Optatus von Mileve: eine Theologie der Kirche. 10 For example, Camelot states the following on p. 6: “Die Theologie des Klemens (von Alexandrien) spielte zwar in der Entfaltung der Ekklesiologie keine entscheidende Rolle, doch stellt sie trotz ihrer Grenzen und gewisser Ambiguitäten einen nicht zu vernachlässigenden Aspekt der Theologie der Kirche heraus.” On p. 34, we read: “Im 4. und 5. Jahrhundert hatten die Theologen andere Probleme, und die trinitarischen oder christologischen Kontroversen beanspruchten sie mehr als alles andere. Die Kirche brachte sich selbst zum Ausdruck in ihrem liturgischen und sakramentalen Leben, and man emfand nicht das Bedürfnis daraus eine Theologie zu machen.” 11 Ibid., 8–9,17–18, 21–26, 38, 41–45, 45–50, and 55–60. This over-emphasis on the role of the papacy presents a view of the church that in many respects tends to be an eisegesis approach to the historical data of the first four centuries. 12 Yves Congar, Die Lehre von der Kirch: Von Augustinus bis zum Abendländischen Schisma (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1971). 13 Ibid., 7. See the entire section entitled, “Ein doppelter Kirchenbegriff?” 7–8. 14 Augustine, Concerning the City of God against the Pagans (New York: Penguin Books, 1980), Eng. trans. by Henry Bettenson. In the “Introduction,” xvi–xviii, David Knowles presents Augustine’s meaning of the phrase “City of God” and pointedly indicates that Augustine does not identify the City of God with the church.


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the Evolution of Catholicism, is in agreement with Knowles.15 It is my view that Knowles and McBrien, along with many others, are more accurate than Congar on this issue. Thus, The City of God, is not an ecclesiology in a systematic understanding of the term. Even more pointedly stated, Augustine’s view of the “City of God” is not identical to the church. Augustine himself clearly mentions this non-identity in his opening chapter. Other works by Augustine focus on specific aspects of church life: De moribus ecclesiae catholicae discusses some broad ethical issues; De utilitate credendi concentrates on the issue of faith in God, in Jesus, and in the community called church; and De unitate ecclesiae, is a book that centers on the Donatist question. None of these treatises constitute an ecclesiology in the strict sense of the term. Congar moves from Augustine to Gregory the Great, Isidore of Seville, and Bede the Venerable. He also focuses on the changes that took place in the Carolingian reform, when the Germanic elements began to play a major role in theological, liturgical, and canonical teaching. When Congar move his discussion to the Eastern Churches, he rightfully centers on their liturgical expression of faith. The great Eastern Fathers of the Church, such as Athanasius, Basil, Gregory of Nazianz and Gregory of Nyssa, however, did not present a systematic theology of church. All of these great Eastern theologians wrote at length on various church issues. They did this particularly in their writings on Christ and on the Trinity, or in their writings which challenged heretical positions by influential scholars of the day. None of these presentations regarding the church can be seen as systematic ecclesiologies. Even the large number of early Christian theologians, who are not considered Fathers of the Church, did not compose treatises that today we would describe as a Tractatus de ecclesia. I have in mind such major figures of the early church as Clement of Alexandria, Origen, Tertullian and Hippolytus. On the other hand, many lengthy volumes on Jesus and on the Trinity were written during these early centuries. For instance, Cyril of Alexandria (375–444) wrote Thesaurus on the Holy and Consubstantial Trinity; Augustine (354–430) wrote De Trinitate; and Boethius (ca. 480–524) wrote De Trinitate and De Incarnatione Verbi. That trinitarian

15

Richard McBrien, The Church: The Evolution of Catholicism, 70.

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and christological treatises were abundantly composed during the Patristic Period was due to the major conflicts in theology at that time which centered overwhelmingly on Jesus and Trinity. The specific issue of church was not a major issue of conflict in that period of time.16 Throughout the early Middle Ages, from the seventh to eleventh centuries, there is also no treatise by a western Catholic scholar that centers exclusively and in detail on the church. Marcia Colish in her study, Peter Lombard, reminds us that “both systematic theology and the sentence collection were inventions of the twelfth century.”17 To be sure, a huge amount of theology had been written before this time. Latin theology from the patristic period onward had produced a large number of genres of theological literature. . . . But, before the twelfth century, no Latin theologian had developed a full-scale theological system, with a place for everything and everything in its place.18

Rupert of Deutz (ca. 1075–1129) and Honorius of Autun (ca. 1080– 11560) were two of the major initial leaders in the development of systematic theology. In 1150, the four volumes of Peter Lombard called the Sentences (Libri IV Sententiarum) were written.19 These volumes contained lengthy sections on God, Trinity, Incarnation and the Sacraments, but there was no similar section on the Church. In 1215, the theology department at the University of Paris made the Libri IV Sententiarum of Peter Lombard a major textbook for its theological curriculum. A student who wished to become a Magister in theology was required during the latter part of his curricular activities to offer courses in which he commentated on specific books of the Sentences. In time, this university requirement produced a number of volumes by sundry

16 In the early centuries of the church, many individual persons were considered heretical (e.g., Arius and Paul of Samosata) and they were specifically condemned. In a few situations, however, the problem was not that of an individual scholar, but the establishment of an alternative church. This took place for example with Montanism and Donatism. Nonetheless, even with the actual threat and presence of an alternative church no treatise on ecclesiology was written at that period of time. When the Eastern Churches separated from the Western Church in the tenth century, thus forming alternative churches, no ecclesiologies were written by either side. The creation of alternative churches in the sixteenth century, however, did initiate the formulation of systematic ecclesiologies. This is one reason why the sixteenth century is so unique in the history of systematic ecclesiology. 17 Marcia Colish, Peter Lombard, v. I, 34. 18 Ibid., 34. 19 Peter Lombard, Libri IV Sententiarum (Quaracchi: Typographia Collegii S. Bonaventurae, 1916).


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theologians of that period, all of which were generally entitled Commentary on the Sentences or even entitled by some authors as a Summa theologica. These Commentaria and Summae followed the basic structure of the Sentences. Albert the Great, Thomas Aquinas, Alexander of Hales, the authors of the Summa Alexandrina, Bonaventure of Bagnoregio, and John Duns Scotus are considered the major theologians of the thirteenth century. In their abundant writings, however, there is no self-contained treatise on the church. On the other hand, all of these theologians produced major, self-contained sections on the existence of God, on the Trinity, on Creation, on the Incarnation, and on the Last Things. All of these theologians mention the church again and again, but none of them construct a separate treatise on the church in a way that we today could call a treatise on ecclesiology. Certain contemporary authors have compiled material regarding the church, gathered from the writings of these scholastic theologians. However, the systematic reconstruction of a given theologian’s scattered mention of church often reflects the views of the contemporary compiler rather than the views of the medieval authors themselves. This is inevitable, since they are rearranging sections of the medieval authors in ways that these great authors themselves had never done. We find this process even in the renowned volume by Martin Grabmann (1875–1949), Die Lehre des heiligen Thomas von Aquin von der Kirche als Götteswerk.20 In more recent times, 1987, George Sabra published a book, Thomas Aquinas’ Vision of the Church. Sabra admits that there is no De ecclesia in Thomas, and that he is simply sifting through the material and arranging the thoughts of Thomas into a systematic construct. The construct, however, is basically Sabra’s rather than that of Thomas.21

20 Martin Grabmann, Die Lehre des heiligen Thomas von Aquin von der Kirche als Gotteswerk: ihre Stellung im thomistischen System und in der Geschichte der mittelalterlichen Theologie (Regensburg: G. J. Mainz, 1903). 21 George Sabra, Thomas Aquinas’ Vision of the Church (Mainz: Matthias-Grünwald, 1987). See also Yves Congar, “The Idea of Church in St. Thomas Aquinas,” The Thomist 1 (1939): 331–359; Sainte Église (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1963); “Ecclesia et populus (fidelis) dans le eccelesiologie des Thomas,” St. Thomas Aquinas 1274–1974. Commemorative Studies (Toronto: PIMS, 1974). Also, T. M. Käpelli, Zur Lehre des h. Thomas von Aquin von Corpus Christi Mysticum (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1931).

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A few authors have claimed that De regimine christiano, an unfinished work of the Augustinian theologian, James of Viterbo (c. 1255–1307/08), might be considered the first systematic presentation of a theology of the church.22 De regimine christiano, written in 1302, is certainly a treatise that addresses some of the then current issues on church and its relationship to royal governments, but it does not cover all the major issues found in later systematic ecclesiologies. Other contemporary authors, such as Joachim Salaverri, consider the Summa de ecclesia, written by the Dominican cardinal and theologian, Juan de Torquemada (1388–1468), as the first-ever true ecclesiology.23 Perhaps one might consider Torquemada’s work as a first step towards an ecclesiology, but not more than a first step. Torquemada’s work concentrates heavily on three specific issues. It strongly defends the universality of the pope’s spiritual power. It makes a moderate defense of the pope’s temporal power. It opposes at great length the Immaculate Conception of Mary. All of these are indeed ecclesiological issues, but Torquemada’s book is hardly a Summa of the key issues that comprise a complete theology of the church. Ecclesiology as a specific part of catholic theology can be seen far more clearly in the works of the following authors, all of whom lived at the time of the Reformation and the Council of Trent or its immediate aftermath: De fide by Francisco de Suárez (1548–1617); De fide by Adam Tanner (1572–1632); De auxiliis by Domingo Báñez (1528–1604); and De controversiis by Robert Bellarmine (1542–1621).24 These works can be classified as initial Catholic ecclesiologies in the proper sense of the term. Since they were written in the Reformation-Tridentine period, they are, of course, openly polemical. Each of these volumes was deliberately written, in some way or another, to oppose the theolo-

22 James of Viterbo, De Regimine christiano. See Ewart Lewis, Medieval Political Ideas (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1954). Lewis writes: “The De Regimine was first printed in an edition based on a single MS, ed. G. L. Perugi (Rome: 1914). The critical edition is that of H. W. Arquillière, Le plus ancien traité de l’église, Jacques de Viterbo, De Regimine Christiano (1301–1302), (Paris: 1926).” v. 2, 641. 23 Joachim Salaverri, “De Ecclesia Christi,” Sacrae Theologiae Summa, v. I: 493. 24 See Christian Pesch, Compendium Theologiae Dogmaticae (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder & Co, 1921) v. I, 10–12, (nn. 21–25). Pesch provides a lengthy list of theologians from the Reformation down to the beginning of the twentieth century who wrote texts on systematic ecclesiology. See also Adolphe Tanquerey, Synopsis Theologiae Dogmaticae (Paris: Desclée, 1935) v. II, 32–67 (nn. 57–108) for a detailed listing of key Catholic theologians from the middle of the sixteenth century to 1925, who also published theologies of the church.


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gies of church that Protestant theologians were, at that very same time, propounding. In other words, their volumes on ecclesiology were a direct response to the theology of church as found in the foundational writings of Martin Luther (1483–1546), John Calvin (1509–1564) and Ulrich Zwingli (1484–1531), the three major Reform figures whose writings had been the focus of the tridentine bishops. Key to an understanding of these initial Catholic ecclesiologies is the issue of apostolic succession. The legitimacy of both popes and bishops depended on the ecclesial view of apostolic succession, that is, on the papal and episcopal position that directly descended from the apostles. As a result, these first ecclesiologies as well as the succeeding ecclesiologies of the Roman Catholic Church up to the mid-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries came more and more to be centered on the issue of apostolic succession. In this view, Jesus during his lifetime established the church; he chose the Twelve as the first bishops with Peter as the first pope; today’s bishops and popes are in a direct line of succession to the apostles. Since Anglican, Orthodox, Protestant and other Christian Communities cannot make this claim, the Roman Catholic Church is, therefore, the only one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church. This posttridentate form of theological argumentation became foundational for almost all subsequent ecclesiologist in the Roman Catholic Church up to the middle of the twentieth century. Two Protestant ecclesiologist of the Reformation-Tridentate period of time deserve special mention, since they seem to be the first two extended and systematic formulations of Protestant ecclesiology. The first is found in book four of the Institutes of the Christian Faith written by John Calvin.25 In spite of its polemical approach, Calvin’s ecclesiology covers the major areas of a theology of church as based on a Protestant approach to theology. The second Protestant ecclesiology is found in the Loci communes rerun theologicarum by the Lutheran theologian, Philipp Melanchton (1497–1560).26 Melanchton’s presentation of a theology of church also covers the major ecclesiological issues, and his

25 John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1960), John T. McNeill, ed., Eng. trans. by Ford Lewis Battles, 1011–1521. See also, William J. Bouwsma, John Calvin: A Sixteenth Century Portrait (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1988), 214–229. See also John Dillenberger and Claude Welch, Protestant Christianity interpreted through its Development (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1954), 45–53, 62–67, 106–112, and 219–224. 26 Philipp Melanchton, The Loci Communes of Philip Melanchton (Boston: Meador Publishing Co., 1944), ed. by Charles Leander Hill; Eng. trans. by Ford Lewis Battles.

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presentation is equally polemic in tone. Both Calvin and Melanchton propose a detailed ecclesiology that is based ultimately on the Word of God. Both theologians argued that a Word of God ecclesiology is scripturally correct, and that the Roman Catholic approach for a theology of church is not ultimately based on God’s Word but rather on human words, namely on the words of a church hierarchy. The second major note of Protestant ecclesiology is its emphasis that the sacraments are preached and celebrated in the correct way, as found in the New Testament. Catholics faulted the Protestants for their lack of apostolic succession; Protestants faulted the Catholics for devising an ecclesiology not based on the Word of God but on the words of men, and on a church celebrating the holy Sacraments baptism and eucharist according to the New Testament. The Anglican Reformation, as Colin Buchanan reminds us, was rooted in the spread of printing. “In England the provision of liturgical books not only exhibited the progress of the Reformation, but actually effected it.”27 The English vernacular Bible dates from 1537 and the first English edition of the Book of Common Prayer appeared in 1549. In the Preface of the Book of Common Prayer, one reads: “The curates shall need none other books . . . but this book and the Bible.” Given this, one can conclude that in the Anglican community the only necessary theological understanding of the church can be gleaned from these two volumes. Anglican ecclesiology is based on the bible (the word of God) and on the manner in that the community prays (the Book of Common Prayer). Historical developments modified this Anglican basis. James I authorized a new translation of the bible, that came to be called the King James Bible, and that supplanted all other English translations of the bible. Likewise, the Thirty-Nine Articles contributed to a further delineation of the theological meaning of church, based on the King James Bible and on the Book of Common Prayer interpreted by the Thirty-Nine Articles.28 From these beginnings of formal ecclesiologies onward, we find a polemical divide between the Roman Catholic ecclesiology on the one

27 Colin Buchanan, “Liturgical Books,” The New Westminster Dictionary of Liturgy and Worship, (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002), ed. Paul Bradshaw: 73. 28 The details of this development involved a series of historical events, including the succession of monarchs, Henry VIII (1509–1547), Edward VI (1547–1553), Elizabeth I (1553–1603). See Buchanan, op. cit.: 73.


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hand and the Anglican-Protestant ecclesiologies on the other hand. One can only conclude that the Reformation itself strongly shaped the dominant and operative ecclesiologies of the Anglican, Protestant, and Roman Catholic Churches that structured the respective churches during the sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth, and the early decades of the nineteenth centuries. Strangely enough, Catholic ecclesiology shaped the Anglican and Protestant ecclesiologies, and reciprocally Anglican and Protestant ecclesiologies shaped the Roman Catholic form of ecclesiology. In all three communions, the respective ecclesiology was a theology of “our” church and not a theology of “their” church. Apologetics determined the major emphases in the respective theologies of church. Protestant theologians from Luther, Calvin, Zwingli, and Melanchton down to the twenty-first century have presented an ecclesiology based on the Word of God. Catholic authors have presented in a consistent way an ecclesiology based on apostolic succession. Anglican theologians have presented an ecclesiology based on the bible and the Book of Common Prayer. In the nineteenth century, one finds early efforts to rethink the apologetic and denominational forms of ecclesiology. Although these efforts did not remove the foundations for the Anglican, Protestant, and Roman Catholic ecclesiologies, a number of theologians began a process in which the foundational barriers slowly lost their water-tight divide. A major figure of a Word-based ecclesiology was Friedrich Schleiermacher (1768–1834), whose positions have dominated almost all modern Protestant theology.29 In contrast to the positions of Immanuel Kant (1724–1804), Johann Gottlieb Fichte (1762–1814) and Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling (1775–1854), Schleiermacher centered his theology on the religious nature of the human person, and from this basis he defended both religion in general and Protestant Christianity in particular. The human aspect emphasized both the subjective side of faith and the personal reception of the Word of God. Another indication of this barrier-breaking movement was the early twentiethcentury renewal of some Anglican Prayer Books. These revised editions reflected a growing provincial independence as well as “a gentle (or even thorough) ‘catholicizing’ [of the 1662 edition of the Prayer Book].”30

29 Friedrich Schleiermacher, Der Christliche Glaube nach den Grundsätzen der evangelischen Kirche (Berlin: Walter de Gruyer, 2003). 30 Buchanan, op. cit.: 74.

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In the twentieth century, the major Protestant figure for a Wordbased ecclesiology was Karl Barth (1886–1968). In his commentary on the Epistle to the Romans and in his Church Dogmatics I/I, Barth strongly reacted against the Liberal Protestantism of his day.31 Barth was also a major figure in drafting the Barmen Confession (1934), which challenged the German churches that had sided with the Third Reich. The Protestant Church was and should be, for Barth, a response to the Word of God, nothing less and nothing more. Barth influenced many Catholic scholars such as Hans Urs von Balthasar, Hans Küng, and Walter Kasper. On the Protestant side, Barth strongly influenced Hans W. Frei, Eberhard Jüngel, Jürgen Moltmann, and Wolfhart Pannenberg. The work of mid-twentieth century Roman Catholic theologians on ecclesiology owed a great deal to the seminal volumes on a theology of the church written by Johann Sebastian von Drey, Kurze Einleitung in das Studium der Theologie32 and Die Apologetik als wissenschaftiliche Nachweisung der Göttlichkeit des Christentums.33 In these theological works, Drey emphasized an organic structure to theology in toto, so that ecclesiology must relate to the organic totality of theological thought and vice versa. Drey’s influence on his students was significant for the nineteenth century efforts to renew ecclesiology. We see his influence in the works of his students, such as Johann Adam Möhler (1796–1838), Johannes Kuhn (1806–1887), Franz Anton Staudenmaier (1800–1856), Anton Berlage (1805–1881), and Franz Xavier Dieringer (1811–1876). Johann Adam Möhler was perhaps the most prominent follower of Drey. Möhler both in Die Einheit der Kirche and in Symbolik34 drew on themes from romantic idealism which at that time was very popular throughout German academia. These themes can be seen in Möhler’s emphasis on the organic unity of the church, an organic unity that provided an early foundation for the twentieth century’s emphasis on

31 Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics: The Doctrine of the Word of God: I/I (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1936) Eng. trans. by G. T. Thomson; also The Epistle to the Romans (London: Oxford University Press, 1968) Eng. trans. by Edwyn C. Hoskyns. 32 Johannes Sebastian von Drey, Kurze Einleitung in das Studium der Theologie (Frankfurt am Main: Minerva, 1996; reprint of 1819 Tübingen edition). 33 Drey, Die Apologetik als wissenschaftliche Nachweisung der Göttlichkeit des Christentums (Frankfurt am Main: Minerva, 1838–1847). 34 Johann Adam Möhler, Die Einheit der Kirche (Cologne: Jakob Hagner, 1957; reprint of the 1825 edition); Symbolik (Frankfurt am Main: Florian Kupferberg, 1888).


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the church as the mystical body of Christ. Moreover, Möhler, in ways similar to Drey, undertook a comparative analysis and assessment of the beliefs of and basic differences between Protestants and Catholics. His utilization of patristic writings about the church was seminal for the Nouvelle théologie theologians a century later. At first, the influence of Drey and Möhler remained fairly local but in the early and mid-twentieth century many Catholics began to pay more attention to the writings of both Drey and Möhler. By and large, however, the twentieth-century manuals of catholic theology either ignored these German writings or simply mentioned the authors in passing. Their ecclesiology did not coincide with the scholastic theology of church, which was at that time dominant, standard, and operative. The encyclical Mystici Corporis was a turning point for Catholic ecclesiology. The encyclical, however, did not appear at mid-century out of the blue. A number of important books on the theme of the mystical body of Christ had already found their way into the theological world of that time. In 1933, Émile Mersch (1890–1940) published Le Corps Mystique du Christ, which became very popular among theological writers.35 In 1940, Erich Przywara (1889–1972) wrote Corpus Christi Mysticum.36 Shortly before the appearance of the encyclical, Sebastian Tromp (1907–1975), a Jesuit theologian who helped Pius XII write his encyclical, published De Spiritu Sancto anima corporis mystici.37 Another important theologian, Louis Jean Bouyer (1913–2004) wrote a seminal article in 1948, “Où en est la théologie du Corps mystique?”38 All of these studies indicate that a more Christological ecclesiology, in contradistinction to the institutional, hierarchical, and polemical ecclesiology as found in the various scholastic manuals, had become a major desire on the part of many dogmatic theologians in the middle years of the twentieth century. The standard, dominant, and operative approach to Roman Catholic ecclesiology reached its apogee in the first half of the twentieth century. All Catholic seminaries had to use texts that were approved by the Holy See. These manuals of theology contained only the standard 35

Émile Mersch, Le Corps Mystique du Christ (Paris, Les Éditions du Cerf, 1933). Eric Przywara, “Corpus Christi Mysticum,” Zeitschrift für Aszese und Mystik, 15 (1940) 3–4: 197–215. 37 Sebastian Tromp, De Spiritu Sancto anima corporis mystici (Rome: Gregorian University Press, 1935). 38 Louis Bouyer, “Où en est la théologie du Corps mystique,” Revue Science Religieuse, 22 (1948) 3–4: 313–333. 36

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form of ecclesiology. As just noted however, major challenges to this standard approach also took place within the Roman Catholic world during the same period of the twentieth century. The major challenges can be organized around five central movements: • The influence of Pius IX through the encyclical letter, Qui pluribus (1846); the allocution, Singulari quadam (1854); the Syllabus of Errors (1864); and the decrees of Vatican I (1869–1870). • The gradual acceptance by Roman Catholic scholars of the ecclesiologies developed by Eastern Orthodox theologians. • The gradual acceptance by Roman Catholic scholars of the ecclesiologies developed by Anglican and Protestant theologians. • The influence of Pius XII’s encyclical, Mystici Corporis. • Scholarly efforts in the twentieth century that raised key questions for some major presuppositions of the standard and dominant eccelsiology. Let us consider each of these five issues in a summary way, indicating the strengths and limits of each issue. a. The Influence of Pius IX through the Encyclical Letter, Qui pluribus (1846); the Allocution, Singulari quadam (1854); the Syllabus of Errors (1864); and the Decrees of Vatican I (1869–1870) It may seem strange to begin with a period of Roman Catholic history that was enormously negative and restrictive. However, it was precisely the ecclesiastical negativity and restrictiveness that pushed the Catholic Church into a new way of thinking. In Qui pluribus, Pius IX specifically focused on rationalism, on clandestine sects that denounced Catholicism, on biblical societies that presented a “false reading” of the bible, and on indifferentism. Modernism became the catch word that conservatives immediately used to cause suspicion for many Catholic theologians. This state of suspicion lasted through the first decades of the twentieth century. In the second half of the nineteenth century, the situation of the Roman Catholic Church was far from serene. In large measure, the principles of the Enlightenment had been accepted throughout Europe. Moreover, rationalism, materialism, socialism, and even atheism were gaining acceptance. National states raised questions about the role of the Papal States, and this included the rights and obligations of the papacy as regards Catholics living in countries that were predominantly


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Protestant or even predominantly secular. Parts of Italy had formed a movement towards political unity called Risorgimento, but the Papal States, which straddled the entire central portion of Italy from east to west, disallowed its goal of a united Italy.39 It was in this situation that Giovanni Mastai-Ferretti (1792–1878) became Pope Pius IX in 1846. At first, he appeared to be open to political changes, but after the rebellions in 1848, that forced him to leave Rome, he became more reluctant to accept the changing situation.40 Even his first encyclical, Qui pluribus, as noted above, had been less than liberal, for it was a strong denunciation of rationalistic thought. Subsequently, as a pope who considered papal power similar to monarchical supremacy, he condemned the teachings of Anton Günther, Johann Baltzer, Jakob Frohschammer, Johann Josef Döllinger, Joseph Bayma, and Augustine Bonnetty. His encyclical, Quanta cura (1864) contained as an attachment a lengthy syllabus of errors. Although Pius IX himself never signed the syllabus, much of the material in it was taken from his writings. Two days prior to the publication of Quanta cura, Pius IX had assembled the Roman Cardinals to a secret meeting and explained to them his intention to hold an ecumenical council. The cardinals were given a prospectus for the council and were told to provide a response in strictest secrecy to the pope. There were a total of twenty-one responses, the majority of which were favorable towards calling an ecumenical council. In early 1865, still under severe secrecy, thirty-four bishops of the Latin Church, chosen by Pius IX, were informed of his conciliar plan. The responses from these bishops were for the most part positive. With these meetings and letters, the conciliar process had begun. Nonetheless, the wars between Austria and Prussia delayed an official and public announcement of the council. Such an announcement took

39 On Vatican I, see Cuthbert Butler, The Vatican Council 1869–1870 (Westminster, Maryland: The Newman Press, 1962); Roger Aubert, “L’Ecclesiologie au concile du Vatican,” Le Concile et Les Conciles (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1960): 245–284; also Roger Aubert, Vatican I (Paris: Éditions de la Orante, 1964); Heinrich Ott, Die Lehre des 1 Vatikanischen Konzils: ein evangelischer Kommentar (Basel: F. Reihhardt, 1963); August Hasler, Pius IX (1846–1878): päpstlicher Unfehlbarkeit und 1. Vatikanisches Konzil (Stuttgart: Hiersemann, 1977); Fidelis van der Horst, Das Schema über die Kirche auf dem 1. Vaikanischen Konzil (Paderborn: Bonifacius Drukerei, 1963). On the Syllabus of Pius IX, see Damian McElrath, The Syllabus of Pius IX: Some Reactions in England (Louvain: Publications Universitaires de Louvain, 1964). 40 See Priscilla Robertson, Revolutions of 1848: A Social History (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1967), 311–330.

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place only on June 29, 1867. On December 8, 1869, the council was formally opened. Five commissions were established to prepare documents on five major issues: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

faith and dogma; ecclesiastical discipline and canon law; religious orders and regulars; the Oriental Churches and foreign missions; political and ecclesiastical affairs and relations of Church and State.

Underlying these ecclesiastical foci were such matters as pantheism, rationalism, socialism, communism, and religious indifference. An issue that was not on the agenda of these five commissions was the issue of papal infallibility. However, in the months preceding the council, many major writings had stirred the waters over this matter. In many ways, the issue of infallibility became “the topic” of Vatican I even before the council had begun. However, a discussion of the five issues set the opening agenda with faith and dogma at the top of the list. Thus, on April 24, 1870, the dogmatic constitution, Dei Filius, was promulgated. This document is a rejection of rationalism, fideism, and traditionalism, but it employed a positive form of expression by maintaining the necessity of God’s revelation on the one hand, and the integrity of the human intellect to arrive at some knowledge of God on the other hand. The document also extols the virtue of faith, maintaining that faith and reason are not in opposition to each other. It is a relatively short document and thus it is more a statement than a theological explication.41 The theme of infallibility, however, took over and a concilar decree on the subject was debated vigorously. Only two months after Dei Filius, June 18, 1870, the Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Pastor Aeternus, was passed with only two negative votes. This document clearly states that within certain circumstances the pope can pronounce infallibly on matters of dogma and morals. One month later, on July 18 of the same year, the decree was officially promulgated.

41 See Henricus Denzinger, Enchiridion Symbolorum (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1963), nn. 3000–3045. Hereafter cited as Denz.


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A third document had been in the making, namely, namely a “Constitution on the Church of Christ,” that intended to treat aspects on the church beyond papal infallibility. In particular, the role of bishops vis-à-vis an infallible pope was a major topic, and the church as mystery was also part of the agenda. Unfortunately, the bishops at Vatican I did not have the opportunity to take up these important implications. This document remained in its preliminary drafting, since the city of Rome was taken over by the Italian armed forces on September 20, 1870. Rome was in turmoil, and so Pius IX, on October 20, 1870, suspended the council “until a more opportune and favorable time.” Such a time never arose in his lifetime. Canonically, it was necessary for John XXIII to officially close Vatican I; only then could he officially open Vatican II. The entire reality of Vatican I clearly affected the history of ecclesiology in the Roman Catholic Church. In the discussions on infallibility, the positions of Robert Bellarmine were cited again and again. The theology of Church that emerged officially from Vatican I mirrored the characteristics of the standard, dominant, and operative theology of church that had developed since the Reformation-Tridentine period. Nonetheless, in the unfinished work of this council we find a call for a renewed theology of church based on ministry and collegiality. The contents of this unfinished work became increasingly vocalized as the nineteenth century ended and the twentieth century began. In this unfinished document we do not have simply positions of theologians that one could easily accept or not accept. Rather, we have the views of conciliar bishops, even though these views never reached a full discussion and acceptance. The level of ecclesiology, evident in this document, reflects not simply an episcopal mentality, but also a mentality of bishops who were considering an eventual conciliar statement. Although these views of the church never became center stage at Vatican I, the views themselves show that in a time of over-emphasis on papal infallibility and on a negative approach to the world around the church of its day, there were highly-placed voices calling for structural changes in Catholic ecclesiology. From the time of the long reign of Leo XIII, followed by the retrenchment of Pius X, and then the missionary endeavors of Benedict XV and Pius XI, there was a gradual but steady rethinking of the Christian missionary movement. In some ways, a more positive meeting of the Catholic Church leadership with the global and multi-cultural world had occurred in the early decades of the twentieth century. After World

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War I, the colonial and missionary dimensions of the wider world were seriously in trouble. However, papal leadership attempted to break down the colonial missionary approach and allow for an indigenization of the non-Euro American world. The apostolic letter of Benedict XV, Maximum illud (Nov. 30, 1919) has been called a Catholic “Magna Carta” for modern missionary activity.42 The influence of Pius IX through the encyclical letter, Qui pluribus (1846); the allocution, Singulari quadam (1854); the Syllabus of Errors (1864); and the decrees of Vatican I (1869–1870), and the aftermath of Vatican I under Leo XIII, Pius X, and Benedict XV, was extremely strong and in many ways basically negative to any ecclesiological change. In sum, we can say that the Roman Catholic Church was not quite ready, officially, for a renewal of ecclesiology. Nonetheless, there were strong voices of discontent within the Catholic Church that did call for a renewal, even though at times these voices were at time sharply silenced. b. The Gradual Acceptance by Roman Catholic Scholars of the Ecclesiologies Developed by Eastern Orthodox Theologians The contemporary collaboration between the Roman Catholic Church leadership and the leadership of the Eastern Orthodox Churches has raised major issues for the standard approach to ecclesiology as found in the Latin Church.43 Both the written work of Roman Catholic patristic scholars, produced in the first half of the twentieth century, and the efforts of the Nouvelle théologie movement in the middle years of the twentieth century occasioned openness to the Orthodox presenta-

42 See Jakob Baumgartner, “The Expansion of Catholic Missions from the time of Leo XIII until World War II,” The Church in the Industrial Age (New York: Crossroad, 1981), Hubert Jedin and John Dolan, edd.; Eng. trans. by Margit Resch: 559. Baumgartner’s entire presentation, 527–575, together with the bibliography on 624 draws together in detail the major steps for this early global and multi-cultural foundation for a new ecclesiology, based on a more mutual understanding of the Vatican and the leaders of the Orthodox Churches. The details that he provides indicate clearly that a renewal of ecclesiology began in an inchoative and also in an official way during the latter decades of the nineteenth century and the early decades of the twentieth century. The call for a renewal in ecclesiology was urged, although in different ways, by the several popes during these decades. Of note is the fact that local ecclelsiologies sensitive to a variety of cultures were cultivated and encouraged through these official documents. 43 In the following pages, the term Orthodox Churches includes the groups of Eastern Churches mentioned above on pp. 16–17.


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tions on church. In the course of these two theological movements, a stonewalling of the implications of the data by major traditional and conservative Roman Catholics and by ecclesiastical leaders of major rank did at times take place, but strong theological interest in patristic writings has continued into the third millennium. The documents of Vatican II, for their part, opened additional doors on several sensitive Roman-Orthodox issues, and this has resulted in a more positive evaluation of Orthodox ecclesiology by Catholic leadership. As regards the current ecclesiological thought of both the Orthodox Churches and the Roman Catholic Church, two distinct contemporary foci emerge. The first focus centers on Roman Catholic efforts during this time period to investigate Orthodox positions and to realign the western views vis-à-vis the Orthodox views. For the most part, this meant an exchanging of western negative views for more positive views of Orthodox positions. The second focus centers on Orthodox efforts to investigate their own ecclesiological positions and to reconsider their relations to the Roman Church. 1. Roman Catholic Efforts Bernhard Stasiewski put together a fairly lengthy essay entitled “Papal Hopes for Unification: The Independent Churches and the Uniates.”44 Leo XIII had high hopes for a unification of the Roman Church and the many branches of the Orthodox Churches. He attempted much during his pontificate, but “many external and internal difficulties obstructed the realization of his ambitions. Turkish, Austrian-Hungarian, and Russian interests clashed in the Balkans and the Middle East.”45 These clashes affected the willingness of certain Orthodox groups to engage in inter-church dialogues. Leo XIII also felt resistance and rejection by the Roman Curia, and this impeded the realization of his hopes. Towards the end of his life, Leo could only see a faint first dawn of the united future that he had ardently desired. Nonetheless, the many connections between the Orthodox Churches and the Roman Church from 1878 to

44 Bernhard Stasiewsi, “Papal Hopes for Unification: The Independent Eastern Churches and the Uniates,” The Church in the Industrial Age: 335–377. Stasiewski shows that major and official contacts between Roman Popes and key Orthodox Church leaders took place from 1878 onward. In these contacts an acknowledgement by Roman officials of alternative ecclesiologies was evident. Once again, the early dating for a call to renew ecclesiology is evident in and through these Orthodox-Roman Catholic contacts. 45 Stasiewski., op. cit., 342.

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1903 laid a foundation for later years of intensive Catholic efforts. Since his successor, Pius X, did not have the same dreams as Leo, there was, during Pius’ years in office, 1903–1914, minimal Vatican leadership on the relationship with the Orthodox Churches. Theologically, however, there continued to be movement and involvement. In the early part of the twentieth century Catholic theologians, in a serious way, began to write positively about the ecclesiologies of the Eastern Churches. Generally, from the sixteenth century to the beginning of the nineteenth century, Roman Catholic theologians and church officials simply devalued any alternate ecclesiologies that were written by non-catholics, including those by Orthodox theologians. Martin Jugie (1878–1954) can be considered one of the earliest Catholic writers to focus on the eastern theology of church in an extensive and detailed manner. From 1926 to 1935, Jugie published the five volumes of Theologia Dogmatica Christianorum Orientalium ab Ecclesia Catholica Dissidentium.46 Shortly afterward, C. Lagier, a non-Catholic scholar, published three volumes, L’Orient Chrétien: Des Apôtres jusq’à nos jours (1935–1960).47 Both of these men were western Christians, writing about Eastern Orthodox ecclesiological thought. The tone of their volumes, however, was not always dialogical. Nonetheless, since the appearance of these volumes, other Catholic authors began to investigate the theological richness of the Eastern Churches and their theologies of church.48 Nonetheless, positive Catholic studies on Orthodox ecclesiology tended to remain at the edges of mainstream Catholic scholarship. Official church leaders either ignored these alternative ecclesiologies, or utilized their findings only when discussing dissident and non-acceptable positions.49 However, the contributions of Jugie, Lagier and others did have positive results. Their research on Orthodox ecclesiology used either positively or negatively slowly opened Roman Catholic eccle-

46 Martin Jugie, Theologia dogmatica Christianorum Orientalium (Paris: Letouzey et Ané, 1926–1935) five volumes. 47 C. Lagier, L’Orient Chrétien. Des Apôtres jusq’à nos jours (1935–1950–1960) three volumes. 48 See G. Bardy, La Théologie de l’Église: I—De saint Clément de Rome à saint Irénée (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1945) and La Théologie de l’Église: II—De Saint Irénée au concile de Nicée (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1947). 49 Salaverri, op. cit., cites Jugie but generally only when Salaverri is describing the “Orientales dissidentes” in a negative way; see nn. 166, 259, 391, 448, and 548.


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siology, at least in some degree, to the spiritual depths of Orthodox theology. In many ways, it was the emergence of the Nouvelle théologie movement in the two decades prior to Vatican II, that brought the Eastern ecclesiologies into a more central and positive focus of Catholic study. The influence of Nouvelle théologie can be seen in the production of the critical editions of the early church fathers, such as the Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum: Series Graeca and its counterpart Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum; Series Latina.50 Nouvelle théologie was a multi-dimensional movement. It was concerned in a strong way with the question of history and Roman Catholic dogma. The Jesuit school of Fouvrière at Lyons and the Dominican theological center of Le Saulchoir near Paris produced its leadership. Neither of these two centers, however, centered on a narrow focus of study nor did the two centers work totally in tandem with each other. History and dogma formed a centering element, but the ramifications were multi-valent. The Jesuit, Jean Daniélou, in 1946 wrote an article on the present-day trends in religious thought.51 He spoke forthrightly about the breach between theology and life, and he proposed a deeper study of three areas that he labeled a return to the sources, namely, to the Scriptures, to patristic texts, and to the liturgy. Conservative Catholic theologians almost immediately wrote against the leading theologians of Nouvelle théologie,52 and eventually Pius XII virtually condemned the key theologians who were part of Nouvelle théologie. For our purposes on the relationship of Roman Catholic ecclesiology and Orthodox ecclesiologies, it should be noted that a major interest of many Nouvelle théologie scholars was the theology of church as found in the early Fathers of the Church. Their works on patristic subjects helped the

50

For example, Corpus Christianorum: Lingua Patrum (Turnhout: Brepols, 1971 ff.); Corpus Christianorum: Series Graeca (Turnhout: Brepols, 1977 ff.). 51 Jean Daniélou, “Las orienations présentes de la pensée religieuse,” Etudes 249 (1946) 1: 7–21. 52 Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, in an article, “La nouvelle théologie où va-t-elle?” Angelicum 23 (1946): 126–145, claimed that the Jesuits, Yves de Montcheuil and Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, derived their ideas from Maurice Blondel. Michel Labourdette in “La théologie et ses sources,” Revue Thomiste (1946) 2: 353–371, made the same accusation against the Dominicans at Le Saulchoir. His attack also focused on the series, Sources chrétiennes, edited by Henri de Lubac and Jean Daniélou. De Lubac at the invitation of Yves Congar published his volume, Catholicisme, in the Dominican series, Unam Sanctam.

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Roman Catholic world in the middle of the twentieth century regain a deep appreciation of the theological vision of the great Fathers of the Church, especially the Eastern Fathers. The Nouvelle théologie patristic interest accomplished another major goal, namely, a positive dialogue with Orthodox theologians.53 Pius XII’s encyclical, Humani generis (1950) aimed at putting an end to the Nouvelle théologie movement, and for a short while his efforts were successful. When John XXIII announced the Second Vatican Council, some of the Nouvelle théologie theologians, who had been banned by Pius XII, began to be reinstated into good graces, and some of these theologians played a major role throughout the proceedings of the council. The bishops at Vatican II, therefore, had, through the efforts of these Nouvelle théologie theologians, a view of the church that included an in-depth understanding of the patristic period. The patristic views offered the conciliar bishops a counter-balance to the narrow scholastic approach to ecclesiology which was endemic throughout the standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology just prior to Vatican II. This standard ecclesiology also dominated the initial draft on the church that had been presented to the Vatican II bishops. Fortunately, the bishops rejected this draft. They formed a new committee to start over, and from the efforts of this new committee Lumen gentium eventually became the official text on the Church promulgated by the council. On November 21, 1964, the bishops at Vatican II promulgated the Decree on the Catholic Eastern Churches, Orientalium ecclesiarum. In this document, the Roman Catholic Church officially and positively opened up the relationship of the Latin Church to the many Orthodox Churches, both uniate and non-uniate. In 1964, Paul VI and Athenagoras I met in Jerusalem and a year later the 1054 papal excommunication of Orthodox Churches was removed. In 1979, Pope John Paul II visited the Patriarch, Dimitrios I, in Constantinople, and in 1980 John Paul II proclaimed Cyril and Methodius the co-patrons of Europe. Since Vatican II, there have been official and on-going inter-church dialogues between the East and the West. In summary, one can say that in the twentieth-century, the Roman Catholic Church, both theologically and institutionally, has moved in many major ways towards a more peaceful and more comprehensive

53 See Sources chrétiennes (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1968 ff.). These volumes provide a rich library of the patristic writings, both Latin and Greek.


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relationship with the various Orthodox Churches. By doing so, the Roman Church has directly and indirectly moved away from the dominant, standard, and operative ecclesiology that it had developed since the sixteenth century which rejected any and every non-Roman Catholic ecclesiology. There remain, however, difficult moments. Both the present struggle in Russia over the ownership of churches and the reestablishment of western Churches in Russia are two issues that have strained Catholic-Orthodox relations. 2. Orthodox Efforts Contemporary Orthodox Scholars themselves have been at the forefront of a deeper understanding of the ecclesiological theology found in the Eastern Churches. During the efforts of Leo XIII, several major Orthodox leaders at least listened to the efforts of the Vatican. Nonetheless, these same leaders complained that the effort called “Latinization” hindered the tasks of both the Uniate and the Orthodox Churches. The Melchite patriarch Gregory II Jussef Sayyur was outspoken in this regard. In Russia, outstanding academic leaders included E. E. Gloubinsky, N. N. Glubovski, N. F. Papterev, Alexei Chomjakov, Vladimir Slovien, Sergei Bulgakov, and Nicolas Berdyaev. Berdayev’s presentation of Sobornost was a major contribution of the theological world. Many political issues tended to constrain some of the Orthodox leadership. In Russia it was the control of the Romanovs; in other areas it was the control of the Turkish world. In spite of these political difficulties, the number of churches, monasteries, and convents grew rapidly, and the training of Orthodox seminarians gradually improved. This late-nineteenth and early twentieth-century burgeoning of top-quality Orthodox theology strengthened the theologies of church in all their national and cultural forms. At mid-twentieth century, key volumes appeared, such as the 1959 volume of Paul Evdokimov, L’Orthodoxie.54 In 1960, John Meyendorff published L’Église orthodoxe hier et aujourd’hui.55 In the same year, the delicate issue of papal primacy was the theme of a book written by four major Orthodox scholars, Nicholas Afanasieff, Nicholas Koulomzine, John Meyendorff, and Alexander. Schmemann, La Primauté de Pierre

54

Paul Evdokimov, L’Orthodoxie (Neuchâtel, Delachaux et Niestlé, 1965). John Meyendorff, L’Église orthodoxe hier et aujourd’hui (Paris: Éditions du seuil, 1965). 55

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dans l’Église Orthodoxe.56 Certain major ecclesiological trends have emerged from this Orthodox bibliographical material. First of all, negative issues vis-à-vis the Roman Church remained in these Orthodox writings. On certain issues, some of the volumes and articles retained a polemical and defensive stance. In particular, these writings took issue with the presentation of papal primacy as the Catholic Church at that time presented it. They defended a primus inter pares position. These writings also indicate the thorny issues of nationalism and multiculturalism. Russian Orthodox thought, for instance, differs from Greek Orthodox thought and both differ from Coptic thought. The Byzantine Empire had disintegrated only a hundred and fifty years prior to these studies, and the effects of Byzantine church-state relationships, which needed to be rethought, find an echo in these same studies.57 Much of Orthodoxy had existed for centuries under Islamic governments, and in the twentieth century they had also struggled to exist under various Communist countries. With the overthrow of Communist leadership, the question of the ownership of many Church buildings rekindled an Orthodox-Roman dissent, since the Latin Church had taken over several of these former Orthodox churches. On the positive side, Orthodox writings in that same period of time emphasized again and again that ecclesiology and spirituality cannot be separated. These writings also emphasized the sacramental and spiritual role as well as the independence of the bishop, a role that in the west had been lost when episcopacy was not even considered a part of the sacrament of holy order and thereby left episcopal identity, practically speaking, with an identity as vicars of the pope. Thirdly, these writings emphasized that the eucharist makes the church and the church makes the eucharist. Fourthly, ecclesiology and christology are inseparable, and it is christology that controls ecclesiology, not vice versa.58 These positive issues, that were later taken up by key Roman

56 There is an English translation of this volume, with an additional essay by Veselin Kesich, The Primacy of Peter: Essays in Ecclesiology and the Early Church (Crestwood, New York: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1992). A generous bibliography of Orthodox writers from 1864 to 1980 can be found in John Meyendorff, The Byzantine Legacy in the Orthodox Church (Crestwood, New York: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1982), 257–259. 57 See Meyendorff, “Ecclesiastical Regionalism: Structures of Communion or Cover for Separatism,” The Byzantine Legacy in the Orthodox Church, 217–233. 58 See Meyendorff, Christ in Eastern Christian Thought (Washington, DC: Corpus Books, 1969), especially 149–166.


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Catholic theologians, are an expression of the theological and spiritual depth of Orthodox ecclesiology. The ecclesial issues of Orthodoxy, however, did not become major constitutive elements in the standard, dominant and operative ecclesiology of the Roman Catholic Church The contemporary western church’s openness to the positive theological issues on Orthodox ecclesiology testifies that major changes are taking place today regarding the Latin theology of church. Meyendorff, in a more recent volume, The Byzantine Legacy in the Orthodox Church, invites his readers to appreciate an Orthodox understanding of church.59 Orthodox ecclesiology, he notes, cannot be understood except in it relationship to Orthodox spirituality. Within this duality, one finds a consistency of tradition, and at the same time one realizes that “all institutions—even those that are founded by God himself—are historical phenomena and reflect the inevitable imperfections of the historical process.”60 He goes on to say that since no form of primacy can ever be a primacy over the eucharist, and since the eucharist makes church, no primate has power over other bishops. The primate himself is one of the bishops, sacramentally equal to them and fallible as they all are. The bishops have the right and the duty to oppose him when he is wrong, and this very opposition is a service rendered to him, for his errors can lead not only to his own personal catastrophe but also to the catastrophe of his church as well.61 Byzantine Christianity has accepted and continues to accept such ongoing relational forms of ecclesiology, relationships that are at once temporal or historical and also traditional and existential. Meyendorff writes: Byzantine Christianity has never attempted to reduce the Christian faith either to a dependence on institutional authority or to reliance upon a few charismatics. It seems to me that the conscious preservation of the paradox was possible only because the locus of the Christian experience was always seen in the Church as a eucharistic community, that always presupposes at the same time a continuity in the apostolic faith through ecclesial discipline and a charismatic event revealed to and accepted by each person in full freedom, together with the entire community.62

59 60 61 62

Meyendorff, The Byzantine Legacy in the Orthodox Church, 9. Ibid., 245. Ibid., 245. Ibid., 214.

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John Zizioulas stresses these fundamental approaches to ecclesiology as one can see in his volume, Being as Communion: Studies in Personhood and the Church.63 Even though his influence on Roman theology developed strongly after Vatican II, his ideas present an ecclesiological perspective that comes from long-standing traditions. Zizioulas confirms the basic insights of Meyendorff. In this volume, Zizioulas cites the profound vision of Maximos the Confessor (580–662) as regards the relationship between truth and history: The truth of history is identical with that of creation itself, both being oriented towards the future. Perfection is not an original state to which creation is bidden to return but a peras (fulfillment) that summons from ahead.64

Ecclesiology is relational since the church itself is historical. Ecclesiology is also relational since it is basically a sacrament of christology. Zizioulas writes: “The incarnate Christ is so identical to the ultimate will of God’s love, that the meaning of created being and the purpose of history are simply the incarnate Christ.”65 Ecclesiology is relational since the Spirit does not simply animate a church that already exists. “The Spirit makes the Church be.”66 Notice the combination of words: being, creation, creature, history, Jesus, Spirit, and church. Such an ecclesiology is relational to the core. In today’s dialogue, a relational church is a major gift of the Orthodox tradition to the western Catholic world that until recently has been dominated by an essentialist ecclesiology. At the beginning of the third millennium, there remains an openness between the western Churches and the eastern Churches that has clearly played a major role in the renewal of current ecclesiology. The positive values of this dialogue far outweigh the problems that are still serious and strong. c. The Gradual Acceptance by Roman Catholic Scholars of the Ecclesiologies Developed by Anglican and Protestant Theologians In the early twentieth century, major ecumenical conferences began to take place, and in the course of time more formalized assemblies of

63 John Zizioulas, Being as Communion (Crestwood, New York: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1985). 64 Ibid., 95–96. 65 Ibid., 97. 66 Ibid., 97.


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scholars and ecclesiastical leaders from Anglican, Protestant, Orthodox, Catholic, and other Christian Communities began to exist.67 Although the documents of Vatican II opened the doors to ecumenical ventures of this kind, one encounters throughout the documents a hesitation to acknowledge these Christian Communities as “church.” Only in the aftermath of Vatican II has there been a willingness by Catholic ecclesiastical leaders to identify these communities as “church.” In spite of this ambiguity of Catholic leadership over the name church, openness to ecumenical dialogue has challenged in a major way the standard approach to ecclesiology presented by Catholics prior to 1950. Some of the efforts at ecumenical cooperation can be easily cited. In 1910 a missionary conference was held in Edinburgh, attended by Anglican and certain Protestant leaders. The goal of this conference was to develop a less competitive presence in missionary territories. In that same year, a resolution of the Protestant Episcopal Church called for a world conference on Faith and Order. The goal of this resolution was to address doctrinal rather than practical issues. In 1919, an encyclical of the ecumenical patriarch opened the way for an ongoing and structured relationship between the Orthodox and Protestant Churches. From 1921 to 1925, Cardinal Mercier of Malines, Belgium, organized a series of discussions between the Anglican Church and the Catholic Church. One of the major issues was the acceptance or non-acceptance of Anglican sacramental orders.68 World War II engendered profound ecumenical contacts in many European areas, since grass-root activities took place in which Anglicans, Protestants, and Catholics worked together for desperate social needs. The Faith and Order movement traces its origins to the 1910 World Missionary Conference in Edinburgh. A second major ecumenical movement, The World Council of Churches (WCC), began in 1948. At that time, Pius XII forbade Catholics to participate in the WCC, but John XXIII, after he had established the Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity in 1960, appointed official observers for the third

67 A few nineteenth century authors had also begun to speak in an ecumenical way. See John Henry Newman, The Church of the Fathers (London: John Lane, 1900); An Essay on the Development of Doctrine (London: James Toovey, 1845); On Consulting the Faithful in Matters of Doctrine (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1985). Some Protestant Churches in the 1800s had formed bible and tract societies across denominational lines, and Protestant mission groups began to collaborate with one another. 68 See Adelbert Denaux and John A. Dick, ed., From Malines to ARCIC: The Malines Conversations Commemorated, (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1997).

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general assembly of the WCC that was held in 1961 at New Delhi. Moreover, Anglican, Protestant, and Orthodox observers were officially invited to attend Vatican II. The Decree on Ecumenism, Unitatis redintegratio, promulgated on November 21, 1964, was a major move on the part of the Catholic Church towards ecclesial reconciliation.69 However, it was only an initial step. The implications of this initial step were left to post-Vatican II leadership. In 1965, Paul VI established a Joint Working Group that was to be an official consultative forum of the Roman Catholic Church and the WCC. As of today, the Catholic Church, strictly speaking, remains a non-member church of the WCC, although many Catholic theologians are officially part of various WCC committees. In a growing but hesitant way, the official Roman Catholic Church has engaged in ecumenical endeavors with Protestant and Anglican Churches. The middle years of the twentieth century might be considered a major turning point of Catholic ecclesiology vis-à-vis Protestant and Anglican ecclesiologies. In 1937, Yves Congar published Chrétiens désunis.70 In 1953, Otto Karrer published, Um die Einheit der Christen: Ein Gespräch mit E. Brunner.71 In 1955, Gustave Thils’ volume appeared Histoire doctrinale du Mouvement oecumenique.72 In 1958, J. P. Michael’s book was published, Christen suchen Eine Kirche: Die Oekumenische Bewegung und Rom.73 These writings are only some of the publications by Catholic authors that dialogued on the issue of church. Michael Fahey offers a sharply-focused overview of this emerging interrelationship between Roman Catholic scholars on the one hand and Anglican and Protestant scholars on the other.74 Fahey cites a phrase from Paul Minus

69 The same can be said of the Vatican II Decree on the Catholic Eastern Churches, Orientalium Ecclesiarum, promulgated on Nov. 21, 1965. In this decree, the Roman Catholic Bishops honor the heritage of the Orthodox Uniate Churches and Patriarchs (5–23), but there is only a brief section on the relationship of Rome to Eastern “Separated Churches” (24–27). 70 Yves Congar, Chrétiens désunis (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1937). 71 Otto Karrer, Um die Einheit der Christen: Ein Gespräch mit E. Brunner (Frankfurt am Main: J. Knecht, 1953). 72 Gustave Thils, Histoire doctrinale du mouvement oecumenique (Paris: Desclée de Brower, 1963). 73 J. P. Michael, Christen suchen Eine Kirche: Die Oekumenische Bewegung und Rom (1958). 74 Michael Fahey, “Ecumenical Ecclesiology,” The Gift of the Church, ed. Peter Phan (Collegeville, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 2000): 111–127. Fahey’s article includes a brief but significant bibliography for this pioneering period of ecumenical dialogues.


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that in many ways summarizes the situation, namely: “The Catholic Rediscovery of Protestantism.”75 With the emerging mutual openness of Eastern Orthodox, Protestant, Anglican, and Catholic scholars, the Catholic ecclesiologies that have developed from the mid-twentieth century onwards are fundamentally different from the standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology of the Catholic Church. Yves Congar, in 1953 published a volume on the church, Jalons pour une théologie du Laïcat, and in 1956 two further volumes by Congar were published: Esquisses du mystère de l’Église and La Pentecôte: Chartres.76 Other volumes that inspired new presentations on church and that appeared prior to Vatican II include Die Kirche als Ursakrament by Otto Semmelroth,77 Kirche und Sakramente, by Karl Rahner,78 and Sacrament van de Godsontmoeting by Eduard Schillebeeckx.79 Rahner’s volume, The Church and the Sacraments, appeared in English in 1963, as did Schillebeeeckx’s volume, Christ the Sacrament of the Encounter with God. All three of these volumes presented an ecclesiology in which the humanity of Jesus is presented as the primordial sacrament and the church itself is described as a basic sacrament.80 The sacramental approach to ecclesiology became a foundational part of the reformed ecclesiology expressed in the documents of Vatican II. Other highly influential ecclesiological studies should be added to the above listing, namely, Henri de Lubac, Catholicisme,81 and Hans Küng, Strukturen der Kirche and Die Kirche.82 75 Cited in Fahey, op. cit. 117. See, Paul Minus, The Catholic Rediscovery of Protestantism: A History of Roman Catholic Ecumenical Pioneering (NY: Paulist Press, 1976). 76 Yves Congar, Jalons pour une théologie du Laïcat (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1953); Esquisses du mystère de I’Église (Paris, Les Éditions du Cerf, 1956); La Pentecôte: Chartres (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1956). 77 Otto Semmelroth, Die Kirche als Ursakrament (Frankfurt Am Main: Verlag Josef Knecht, 1953). 78 Karl Rahner, Kirche und Sakramente (Freiburg im. Breisgau: Herder 1961). 79 Edward Schillebeeckx, Sacrament van de Godsontmoeting (Bilthoven: H. Nelissen, 1960); Eng. trans. by C. Ernst, Christ the Sacrament of the Encounter with God (New York: Sheed and Ward, 1963). 80 It is absolutely necessary to point out that it is only the humanity of Jesus that can be considered a primordial sacrament of God. The Logos can never be theologically described as the sacrament of God or of the Father. Both views would involve one in subordinationist thought. See Kenan Osborne, Sacramental Theology (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1988), 78–83. 81 Henri de Lubac, Catholicisme (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1952). 82 Hans Küng, Structuren der Kirche (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1962); Die Kirche (Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder, 1967).

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From an ecumenical standpoint, the primordial and sacramental nature of the church has raised a yet unsettled issue, namely: which church sacramentalizes Christ?83 Do all churches sacramentalize Christ? Since the Orthodox Churches, including those not united to Rome, are designated by the Second Vatican Council as “Church,” then one must conclude—even though this naming may sound arrogant to the Orthodox communities—that Orthodox Churches, both uniate and non-uniate, are indeed basic sacraments of Christ.84 Moreover, since the conclusion of Vatican II, Anglican and Protestant communities have been called “Church” even by high-ranking Catholic leadership including John Paul II.85 Logically, as a consequence of this continued usage of church for Anglican and Protestant denomination, they too are basic sacraments of Christ Again, this may sound arrogant to Anglican and Protestant communities, but if Anglican and Protestant communities are “Church,” then they are also basic sacraments of Christ. When stated in this blunt way, some leaders in the Catholic world tend to retrench. A retrenchment of this kind is clearly seen in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. The Catechism describes the Roman Catholic Church as a sacrament of Christ (774–776, 780, 1108). In the paragraphs in which the Catechism mentions the church as sacrament, the church is presented as the “sacrament of the inner union of men with God” and the “sacrament of the unity of the human race” (775). In the Catechism the church is the “universal sacrament of salvation” (776, 780), and the “great sacrament of divine communion” (1108). All of these phrases are repetitions of corresponding conciliar statements. The Catechism begins its formal discussion on the church in Article Nine (748–975) In the opening paragraph one reads: “The Church has no other light than Christ’s; according to a favorite image of the Church Fathers, the Church is like the moon, all its light [is] reflected

83 A listing of the various meanings of church as found in Vatican II can be found in this volume on page 118. 84 If one brackets the arrogance in this Catholic naming of other churches, the very fact that the Catholic Church acknowledges other communities as true churches is a major ecumenical step forward. 85 Common Declaration by Pope John Paul II and the Archbishop of Canterbury, Robert Runcie, In the Cathedral Church, (May 29, 1982). Vatican Council II: More Postconciliar Documents, (Northport, New York: Costello Publishing Company, 1982); English text in Austin Flannery, ed.: 187–189. The first chapter of LG deals with the church as sacrament more than it does with the church as the mystical body of Christ.


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from the sun” (748). That the authors of the Catechism selected this sacramental relationship of the church to Jesus and Jesus to the church as its opening statement on ecclesiology is of tremendous importance. It is in this lunar sense that the church is a sacrament of Christ, and it is therefore in this lunar sense that one finds the core reality of the church. Although the word sacrament is not used specifically in this paragraph of the Catechism, the word sacrament is used in the opening paragraph of Lumen gentium, and the Catechism in 748 deliberately cites the opening words of Lumen gentium. However, the citation in the Catechism includes only the first sentence Lumen Gentium. The opening sentence found in both Lumen gentium and the Catechism reads as follows: Lumen gentium cum sit Christus, haec Sacrosancta Synodus, in Spiritu Sancto congregata, omnes homines claritate Eius, super faciem Ecclesiae resplendente, illuminare vehementer exoptat, omni creaturae Evangelum annuntiando (cf. Mc 16: 15) [LG 1].

The second sentence in Lumen gentium but not cited in the Catechism reads: Cum autem Ecclesia sit in Christo velut sacramentum seu signum et instrumentum intimae cum Deo unionis totiusque generis humani unitatis, naturam missionemque suam universalem, praecedentium Conciliorum argumento instans, pressius fidelibus suis et mundo universe declarare intendit. [LG 1]

These two initial sentences indicate that the sacramentality of the church is at the core of the mystery of the church. The ecclesial center is lunar, that is, the church has no light of its own and exists only if and when it reflects the light of Christ. In this sacramental approach, the church is fundamentally relational. Christology controls ecclesiology, not vice versa. The Catechism does not cite this second sentence literally. The term sacrament is not used in the Catechism’s opening paragraph, although it does use the image of the sun and the moon. Is the Church truly a sacrament of Jesus? Or is there some sort of retrenchment causing this omission? In the specific and lengthy section of the Catechism on the seven sacraments (1066–1690), the church as the fundamental or basic sacrament plays no operative role at all. In this “sacramental section,” there is only one mention of the church as sacrament (1108). A single reference to the sacramental nature of the church hardly unites the seven sacraments to the sacramentality of the church itself. In other words, the

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seven sacraments on the one hand and the church as a sacrament on the other hand are not, in the implication of the Catechism, theologically interrelated in any operative and theological manner. The complete absence of any reference to the Church-sacrament relationship in the Catechism’s lengthy presentation of the seven sacraments (1210–1666) is in itself a thunderous statement. Given all of the ecumenical activity in the past forty years, one can conclude that the Catholic Church has moved away from an ecclesiology that had at one time rejected any and all Anglican, Protestant, and Orthodox relationship. All of this indicates that officially and theologically the Catholic Church has at least tentatively opened itself to wider and more diversified ecclesiologies. Fahey in his essay “Ecumenical Ecclesiology” notes, that the Catholic Church leadership has slowly moved from a period of exclusion to a period of tolerance and even to a period of admiration. Fahey then remarks that the Catholic Church has even moved to a period of collaboration.86 d. The Influence of Pius XII’s Encyclical, Mystici Corporis In a deliberate way, Pius XII broadened the Catholic understanding of the church through his encyclical, Mystici Corporis, promulgated in 1943. From its promulgation in 1943, seminary classes on ecclesiology slowly incorporated a new view of the church that was not totally dominated by institution and hierarchy. Seminary classes on ecclesiology began to include a profound christological basis. In his encyclical, the pope counterbalanced the institutional and hierarchical emphasis of the standard ecclesiology with an emphasis on the christological depths of ecclesiology. In this we see a major significance of the encyclical. However, he also emphasized the hierarchical and institutional framework of the church alongside of his portrayal of the church as the mystical body of Christ. He did this in a way that simply juxtaposed the two aspects of church. In this juxtaposing approach, we see the major problematic of the encyclical, namely, that Pius XII made no effort to unify the two dimensions of the church. Nonetheless, from 1943 to 1962, the addition and strong emphasis on the christological and mystical aspects of the church was taken up by most dogmatic theologians and made a part of their teaching on the church. The encyclical by Pius XII must

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be credited in a major way for making Jesus central to contemporary Catholic ecclesiology. The combination of institution-hierarchy on the one hand and the christological mystery on the other hand influenced the bishops at Vatican II in no small measure. Vatican II, however, did not make the phrase, the church is the Mystical Body of Christ, its centralizing theme. The conciliar documents clearly mention this title of the church, but the documents do not present it as its central understanding of ecclesiology.87 For the bishops of Vatican II the central understanding of the church was the “Mystery of the Church,” which is the title of the first chapter of Lumen gentium. Jesus, not the church, is the light of the world. Almost immediately after the council had closed, Bonaventure Kloppenburg, a Brazilian theological peritus at the council, wrote a volume, entitled, the Ecclesiology of Vatican II. Since he had personally been a part of the council’s theological deliberations, he was well aware of the many nuanced changes that the bishops had made during the various editings of the conciliar documents. Kloppenburg highlights a description of the church that encapsulates the profundity of the church’s resplendent light. He calls this section, The Church, Mystery of the Moon. Kloppenburg writes: Only Christ is the light of the world. He is the Sun, sole source of light. At the side of this Sun, that is Christ, stands the Church like the moon that receives all its light, brilliance and warmth from the Sun.88 We can understand the Church only if we relate it to Christ, the glorified Lord. The Church lives by Christ. If the Church is absolutized, separated from Christ, considered only in its structures, viewed only in its history and studied only under its visible, human and phenomenological aspects, it ceases to be a “mystery” and becomes simply one of countless other religious societies of organizations. It does not then deserve our special attention and total dedication.89

To say that the church is a mystery is not quite the same as saying that the church is the Mystical Body of Christ. The latter is but a small aspect

87 See Gérard Philips, La Chiesa e il suo Mistero (Milan: Editoriale Jaca Book, 1986), 99–106. 88 Bonaventure Kloppenburg, The Ecclesiology of Vatican II, (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1974), 19; Eng. trans. by M. J. O’Connell. A fuller discussion of the issue on the naming of this document can be found in Philips, op. cit., 115–117. 89 Kloppenburg, 19–20.

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of the profound mystery that one finds hidden deep within the church. Again, however, the church by itself is not the mystery referred to here. The mystery remains theocentric, christocentric, and spiritcentric. The church’s greatest role is to reflect this trinitarian mystery. Nor does the church’s reflection of the trinitarian mystery exhaust the reflectionality of the trinity. From Maximos the Confessor, as cited above, all creation reflects the mystery of God and is therefore also a reflection of trinitarian divinity. Didymus the Blind (c. 313–398) spoke of a “lunar constitution of the church.”90 In the thirteenth century, Bonaventure spoke of the “dark radiance” of the church.91 The lunar church is not a new idea, but the bishops at Vatican II gave it a central position in the ecclesiology of contemporary Roman Catholic life. Mystici Corporis and Lumen gentium were indeed major steps towards a renewal ecclesiology, but another factor also contributed to the renewal of ecclesiology. e. Scholarly Efforts in the Twentieth Century That Raised Key Questions for Some Major Presuppositions of the Standard and Dominant Ecclesiology Three areas of twentieth century scholarship combined in a serious way to question the standard approach to Catholic ecclesiology. The first area includes New Testament Roman Catholic biblical scholarship from 1900 to the present. The New Testament data has called into question, in a very serious way, some basic presuppositions that underlie the standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology of the Catholic Church. A strong focus of this New Testament research is on the role of episkopos and presbyteros as presented in the New Testament itself. The second area includes key Catholic patristic scholars. These authors have combed the patristic material from 100 to 700 and found in these early documents that there was an historical and developmental approach to Christian ministry. The third area involves Catholic scholars well trained in early church history. These historians for their part have presented findings from the first to the eighth century that confirm the biblical and patristic data on the development of ministries in the early period of the church.

90 See Catechism of the Catholic Church, 748: “According to a favorite image of the Church Fathers, the Church is like the moon, all its light reflected from the sun.” 91 Cited by Kloppenberg, 20.


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Thus, Catholic biblical scholars, patrologists and early church historians agree on a fundamental issue: church ministry as regards its naming and its functions has not been uniform from the resurrection of Jesus onward. The findings of these scholars, however, have been generally ignored by the official statements on church. One finds this silent response in the documents of Vatican II, in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, in sundry statements by the Vatican Curia, and in episcopal publications. The scholarly approach to the New Testament and early church data regarding both the naming and role of church ministries has faced a continued official re-presentation of the standard ecclesiology. This continued official re-presentation of ecclesiology totally disregards any of the findings by these scholars. This disregard is a major issue for today’s ecclesiological discourse. A comprehensive and sustained search on sacramental history began in 1896, when a protestant scholar, Charles Lea, published a three-volume work: A History of Auricular Confession and Indulgences in the Latin Church.92 These volumes contained a massive amount of scholarly research, but they were also heavily anti-Catholic. Nonetheless, Lea’s study occasioned the beginning of contemporary catholic research into the history of Christian sacraments. Prior to 1896 there had been few historical studies of the sacraments,93 but after the publication of Lea’s three volumes historical and theological investigation on the sacraments took on a much more concerted and deliberative form. In 1896, however, catholic scholarship was not well equipped to address all the issues that Lea presented. In fact, it was a French canonist, Auguste Boudinhon, who wrote the first catholic reply to Lea. He did this in a lengthy article on the history of the sacrament of penance down to the eighth century: “Sur l’histoire de la penitence. A propos d’un livre recent.”94 The article, however, was not well substantiated. More scholarly and detailed studies followed with solid historical works on the sacrament of penance by Franz Xavier Funk (1821–1907), Pierre Battifol (1861–1929), Elphège Florent Vacandard (1849–1927), and 92 H. C. Lea, A History of Auricular Confession and Indulgences in the Latin Church (Philadelphia: Lea Bros. & Co., 1896). 93 Both Luther and Calvin had raised questions on the historical origins for the sacrament of penance, but at that time neither they nor the periti at Trent had any idea of its complicated historical past. 94 Auguste Boudinhon, “Sur l’histoire de la pénitence. À propos d’un livre récent (celui de Lea),” Revue d’histoire et de littérature religieuse, 2 (1897): 306–344, 496–524.

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Johann Peter Kirsch (1861–1941).95 These authors tended to agree with some major positions in Lea’s study to the chagrin of many catholic systematic theologians. A few years later another group of catholic theologians and historians began to write histories of sacramental penance, e.g., Paul Galtier (1872–1961), Bernhard Poschmann (1878–1955), Adhémar D’Alès (1861–1938), Karl Adam (1876–1966), Josef Jungmann (1889–1975), and Karl Rahner (1904–1984).96 All of these studies offered the Christian world a solid and carefully organized historical account on the institution and development of sacramental penance. This data called into question many theological positions that were present in the manuals of theology of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries.97 Since penance is the sacrament of reconciliation after baptism, Catholic, Anglican, and Protestant scholars subsequently studied the history of baptism, and their research began to appear in the first half of the nineteenth century. Historical studies on baptism raised questions about the history of confirmation, and as a result historical research on the sacrament of confirmation took place. Baptism is the door to the eucharist, and consequently scholars, Anglican, Protestant, and Catholic, began in the same period of time to produce historical studies on the theology and liturgy of the eucharistic. An understanding of eucharist is, however, tied to the sacrament of holy order, and therefore scholars provided the Christian world with a number of historical studies on ministry, both ordained and lay. Key studies on the histories of marriage and the anointing of the sick appeared in the latter part of the twentieth century. As a result of this historical research, scholars today have at their fingertips a vision of the history of each sacrament that Thomas Aquinas, Bonaventure, Scotus, Luther, and Calvin never had.

95

For the bibliographical data concerning the authors mentioned in this paragraph, see Kenan Osborne Sacramental Theology: A General Introduction (Paulist, New York: 1988), 2–4; and Christian Sacraments in a Postmodern World (Paulist, New York: 1999), 200–202. 96 Many other authors than those just mentioned could be included. See the bibliography in Kenan Osborne, Reconciliation and Justification (New York: Paulist Press, 1990) 285–296. 97 Contemporary liturgical laws especially on general absolution raise serious theological questions that are still not resolved, e.g., if serious sins are taken away by general absolution, what theological reason can be brought forward to justify the regulation that such sins must be re-confessed privately to a priest. Moreover, the requirement to confess one’s sins privately to a priest is a theological position, not a de fide position.


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Nor did the tridentine bishops have any such detailed knowledge of this history. The individual histories of the seven sacraments indicate that the present role of bishop (επίσκοπος) and priest (πρεσβΰτερος) in sacramental ritual has not always been the same. The role and even the naming of sacramental ministers do not have a unified and unchanging history. The reduction of the names of sacramental ministers to only επίσκοπος and πρεσβΰτερος cannot be historically verified. Sacramental ministers who carried a different title at times celebrated baptism, eucharist, anointing of the sick, and ordination. These historical differences pose serious theological implications. Over the centuries the role of the επίσκοπος has radically changed. So too, the role of the πρεσβΰτερος has radically changed. As a result, one can say with biblical and historical confidence that there has never been one theological model of either επίσκοπος that has remained unchanged. Church history presents us with several variant descriptions of επίσκοπος and πρεσβΰτερος. Each major historical change in the roles of επίσκοπος and πρεσβΰτερος has produced a change in the theological definition of bishop and priest.98 If the biblical, historical, and theological definitions of bishops and priests have changed, then their relationship to lay ministers has also changed. The developmental changes can be identified in summary fashion in the following way. Eπίσκοπος in the New Testament cannot be equated with an understanding of bishop today. Jean-Marie R. Tillard writes “It is impossible to find in the NT a clear view and even a definition of the precise function of the persons designated as bishops. The word επίσκοπος occurs only five times (Acts 20:28, Phil 1:1, 1 Tim 3:2, Tit 1:7, 1 Pet 5: 1–3), and it seems to be interchangeable with the title of πρεσβΰτεροί (elders) used for the same person.”99 Even with the unclarity of its meaning in the New Testament writings, one can conclude the following:

98 See Sharon L. McMillan, Episcopal Ordination and Ecclesial Consensus (Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 2005). Through this volume, McMillan indicates again and again that ordination rites changed as did the theology of ordination that these various rites exemplified. Both the theology and the liturgy of ordination has changed over the centuries. 99 Jean-Marie R. Tillard, “Bishop,” The New Dictionary of Theology (Wilmington, Delaware: Michael Glazier, 1987): 133. See also Hermann W. Beyer, “Επισκοπος,” Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament (Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1935): 604–619. Also K. L. Schmidt, ibid.: 518–536.

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a. επίσκοπος was the name for a major minister in some Christian communities; b. επίσκοπος and πρεσβΰτερος were often interchangeable names; c. some early Christian communities did not even use the title επίσκοπος. In the early Christian communities there was considerable flexibility and diversity as regard the usage, the meaning, the naming, and the tasks of a minister called επίσκοπος or πρεσβΰτερος. It would be difficult to say that contemporary bishops and priests mirror the New Testament’s description of επίσκοπος and πρεσβΰτερος. Contemporary New Testament research has given us a clearer insight into the meanings of επίσκοπος, πρεσβΰτερος, and διάκονος.100 This contemporary biblical research, done by Anglican, Protestant, and Catholic biblical scholars, disallows the manner in which apostolic succession has been presented by Catholic leadership. In my the formation of my book, Priesthood: History of the Ordained Ministry in the Roman Catholic Church, I used the Computer-Konkordanz zum Novum Testamentum Graece in order to list which ministerial names were used in each of the New Testament authors.101 The results were extremely enlightening. The four gospels, Mark, Matthew, Luke, and John, do not use the term επίσκοπος at all. The term πρεσβΰτερος is used, but only in reference to Jewish priests. None of the followers of Jesus, in these gospels are called επίσκοπος or πρεσβΰτερος. In the Johannine letters, the term πρεσβΰτερος is used, but επίσκοπος is not mentioned. In the Acts, επίσκοπος appears only five times, and in Acts 20: 17–35, Paul invites the πρεσβΰτεροί (v. 17) of the area to meet with him, and then in v. 28 he calls these same people επίσκοποι. 1 Peter uses both επίσκοπος and πρεσβΰτερος, but they seem to be interchangeable. In Colossians and Ephesians, neither title is used. In the Pastoral

100 For contemporary biblical scholarship on the issue of NT names for church leadership cf.: J. Delorme, ed. Le ministère selon le Nouveau Testament (Paris: 1974); R. E. Brown, Biblical Exegesis and Church Doctrine (New York: 1985); H. Cazelles, La naissance de l’Église, secte juive rejetée (Paris: Lire de la Bible, 1983); F. Hahn, et al. The Beginnings of the Church in the New Testament (Minneapolis: 1973); E Schweitzer, Church Order in the New Testament (London: 1961); cf., TWNT “Episkopos,” “Presbyteros,” “Diakonos.” 101 Kenan Osborne, Priesthood: A History of the Ordained Ministry in the Roman Catholic Church (Eugene, Oregon: Wipf and Stock, 2003). 42–44. Computer-Konkordanz zum Novum Testamentum Graece (Berlin: Walter de Gruyer, 1985).


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letters, we find both titles and eight other ministerial titles as well. In Revelation πρεσβΰτερος is mentioned but not επίσκοπος. On the basis of this historical research, one can conclude the following. From apostolic times to roughly 215 ce, the title επίσκοπος only gradually became the preferred title for the main leader of a Christian community. In the period following 215, the title επίσκοπος, when it was used, referred to a leader more similar to today’s local pastor rather than to today’s bishop. Even two hundred years beyond 250 an επίσκοπος continued to resemble today’s pastor. An example from church history confirms this. In 411, the emperor, Honorius, called for a meeting at Carthage involving all the bishops of that area in North Africa. Honorius named a lay man, Flavius Marcellinus, the imperial commissioner in Carthage, as coordinator. The gathering was called a collatio not a council, and the emperor mandated that the agenda should be completed within four months. Those attending included 268 Catholic επίσκοποι and 279 Donatist επίσκοποι.102 At that time, one cannot conclude that this small section of North Africa (the Carthaginian area) consisted of 547 dioceses. Rather, there were 268 individual churches under the presidency of a “Catholic επίσκοπος” and 279 individual churches under the presidency of a “Donatist επίσκοπος.” Some small towns and villages had both a Catholic and a Donatist church. In some of the larger cities there were even two or more Donatist or Catholic churches. Each Christian community, i.e., each particular church, seems to have had as its main leader a person called at that time an επίσκοπος, who was therefore the local pastor. If one understands επισκοπος in terms of a local pastor, the large number of επίσκοποι at the collatio in 411 can be accounted for. If one insists that these επίσκοποι were all similar to today’s bishops, then the large number of membership at the collatio becomes unintelligible. From the fourth century onward, mission churches branching off from main churches were gradually staffed. In some instances the staffing official was called by the ill defined term, χωρη επίσκοπος.103 In time it became more customary for a presbyter or in a few instances a deacon

102 Scholars present a slight variance of the numbers for both the Donatist and the Catholic episkopoi attendees. See Peter Brown, Augustine of Hippo (Berkeley, California: University of California Press, 1967): 332 regarding the verbatim records of the collatio. 103 Bernard Cooke, Ministry to Word and Sacrament (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1976), 364.

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to oversee these smaller church communities. The επίσκοπος remained the main ecclesial leader over both the central church and a number of satellite communities, while a presbyter was the local minister of a satellite church. This development occurred in different regions at different times and on different timelines. In this development, we begin to see the contours of later ecclesiastical dioceses under the supervision of a single bishop. In this same period of development, επίσκοποι began meeting in regional councils, a move that helped ground the collegial nature of επίσκοποι. The number of these regional chapters of bishops mushroomed in the succeeding centuries. Paul Bernier summarizes the historical research as follows. During the first generation, no single pattern of leadership emerged as one “willed by Jesus,” or that was normative for all the churches; rather, ministry and leadership were extremely diversified.104 Nowhere in the New Testament does it say that the apostles, or the Twelve, were bishops. This equation was made by Cyprian at a much later date. There is no evidence for linking the “college of apostles” and the “college of bishops.” To say that the apostles were the first bishops goes beyond New Testament evidence. The apostles were surely the first chief leaders of the Christian assembly, but they neither had the title bishop, nor did they function in the ways in that bishops functioned later in the church.105

Were the Twelve called by the name επίσκοποι? Were the apostles ordained in the sense of later Christian ordination? Were the early επίσκοποι from the beginning of the Jesus communities the highest leaders in all the communities? A century ago almost all Catholic ecclesial leaders and theologians would have responded to these questions with an unequivocal affirmative. Today such an unequivocal affirmation has become strongly problematic. The history of the priest parallels that of the bishop. One cannot find in the New Testament’s description of πρεσβΰτερος a definition of the modern understanding of priest. Πρεσβΰτερος and επίσκοπος are at times interchangeable. This interchangeability of titles remained in the church until roughly 200 ce. Presbyters or elders were men of the community who had enough life-experience and enough acceptance and respect by the community to be regarded as main leaders in a 104 Paul Bernier, Ministry in the Church: A Historical and Pastoral Approach (Mystic, Connecticut: Twenty-Third Publications, 1996) 28. 105 Ibid., 40.


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Christian community. Any and every further description of the πρεσβΰτερος during New Testament times is in some degree conjectural.106 D. Dupuis sums up the situation as follows: “How someone in the early Church is called to ecclesial ministry is not described in the New Testament, so that theories relative to ordination have in part a hypothetical quality about them.”107 We cannot say with certainty that during this early period—from 30 to 200—a πρεσβΰτερος was ordained, nor can we say with certainty that every presbyteros celebrated the eucharist or any other sacraments in a way that is similar to the functioning of today’s priest. It is only in the Apostolic Tradition (c. 215) that we have the first extant ordination ritual. In this ordination ritual, the πρεσβΰτερος is ordained primarily to give advice and help to the επίσκοπος. In the priestly ordination ritual, no mention is made of sacramental duties. The prayer over the πρεσβΰτερος is brief, and therefore one cannot derive too much historical data from it. The πρεσβΰτερος as described in ritual gives us some indication in that time and for that place (Rome) why a πρεσβΰτερος is ordained. The πρεσβΰτερος in this first ordination ritual in no way duplicates the πρεσβΰτερος delineated in today’s ordination ritual. When πρεσβΰτεροι, at the beginning of the third century, began to be sent to the mission churches (gradually from c. 300 onward), they slowly became the main celebrants at the community’s eucharist. At first, they were allowed to celebrate the eucharist and to give the homily, tasks most often at that time reserved to the επίσκοπος. Eventually, they also oversaw the baptismal formation for those in their own communities, while the baptism itself took place in the central church. Even this restriction gradually disappeared and the πρεσβΰτεροι baptized the candidates of their own mission churches. Of theological interest is the fact that in the assignment to a mission church, the πρεσβΰτεροι

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Thomas O’Meara, Theology of Ministry (New York: Paulist Press, 1999) 57–79; see also Osborne, Priesthood: A History of the Ordained Ministry in the Roman Catholic Church (New York: Paulist Press, 1988), 40–85. 107 Bernard D. Dupuis, “Theologie der kirchlichen Ämpter,” Mysterium Salutis, 4/2 (Einsiedeln:, Benziger, 1973): 505. See James F. Puglisi, The Process of Admission to Ordained Ministry (Collegeville, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 1996), 1085; see Osborne, Priesthood, 119–129. Puglisi, in my view, uses the term ordination prior to the Apostolic Tradition in a rather facile way. It remains unclear whether ordination was part of the process for a community’s induction of someone into leadership prior to the end of the second century. Secondly, Puglisi accepts Botte’s view that Hippolytus was the author of the Apostolic Tradition. Currently, the authorship by Hippolytus of this document is seriously questioned.

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without any additional ordination took over the sacramental activities of an επίσκοπος and began to act as the sacramental pastors of a local church. The early church community did not see any need for a “new” ordination, even though prior to the assignment of to villages and small towns, πρεσβΰτεροι were not permitted to celebrate the eucharist, baptize, and preach. One can only refer to this change-in-role for πρεσβΰτεροι as a radical change. Another radical change in an understanding of priesthood also took place at Vatican II. In the conciliar documents the bishops clearly moved away from the then traditional scholastic understanding of priest that centered on the power to celebrate eucharist and the power to forgive sin in the sacrament of penance. It was precisely this definition that was set aside, changed, and modified. This did not mean that the scholastic definition was wrong; rather, it was deemed too narrow and needed to be enriched and enlarged. Archbishop Marty, in a plenary session at that all bishops were present, spoke quite clearly on this matter of change. The commission cannot agree with those Fathers who think the position paper should have followed the scholastic definition of priesthood that is based on the power to consecrate the eucharist. According to the prevailing mind of this Council and the petition of many Fathers, the priesthood of presbyters must rather be connected with the priesthood of bishops, the latter being regarded as the highpoint and fullness of priesthood. The priesthood of presbyters must therefore be looked at in this draft, as embracing not one function, but three, and must be linked to the Apostles and their mission.108

The tria munera were presented as the framework for all ecclesial ministries, not merely priesthood or episcopacy. The tria munera became the framework for the common priesthood of all believers, episcopacy, priesthood, diaconate and special ministries open to laymen and laywomen. Lumen gentium (10) mentions, however, that there is an essential difference between bishop, priest and deacon on the one hand and on the other hand the ministries of laymen and laywomen. No effort was made by the conciliar bishops to clarify this essential difference. As a result the precise meaning of this essential difference remains an open question for theologians.

108

The citation from Bishop Marty can be found in Osborne, Priesthood, 178.


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One could argue that in the course of time there has been a development of dogma that has given a divine approval for these changes in episcopacy and priesthood. Several acceptable theories on the development of dogma, however, tend to place an apriori abstract definition on what can and cannot be changed historically. In other words, these authors confront historical sacramental data with an apriori position. They review this same historical data on επίσκοπος and πρεσβΰτεροι with an apriori and dogmatic stance, namely, that from the beginning there was a clear definition of both bishop and priest. Some even maintain that from the very beginning there was an ordination to these offices.109 This dogmatic stance, however, cannot be validated by historical data. It is not that historical data is mute on these issues. Rather, historical data indicates a different and varied interpretation of bishop, priest, and ordination. Moreover, if a development of doctrine has taken place in past centuries, is it not logical that a development of doctrine can also be legitimately used in contemporary discussions, proposing further ministerial changes?110 The biblical and historical material on the naming and role of επίσκοπος and πρεσβΰτερος in the New Testament and in the earliest centuries of church history has challenged the dominant and operative theology of the Roman Catholic Church. In the manuals of theology and in many official church documents, the apostolicity of the Roman Catholic Church has been defended primarily on the basis that Jesus selected the Twelve and gave them power over the inchoative church community. The Twelve, considered as επίσκοπος, chose their successors and made them επίσκοποςι. These episcopal successors, in turn, selected πρεσβΰτεροι to be their co-workers in the episcopal order.111 Biblical scholars, patrologists, and early church historians, however, have adequately shown that such a scenario is unacceptable. What is needed today is an acceptance on the part of those who write official 109 See Osborne, “An Ecclesial Presupposition,” Priesthood, 30–39. The ideas in this chapter are pivotal for any contemporary interpretation of priestly ministry in the church. 110 Today, there are many Catholics who urge that married men be allowed ordination to priesthood. There are also many Catholics who urge that women be allowed ordination to priesthood. In the Anglican and Protestant Churches married priests and bishops are considered positively. In the Anglican and various Protestant Churches, the ordination of women has emerged but not without a great deal of struggle. In the Orthodox Churches a married presbyterate has been from the beginning of Christian times part and parcel of their discipline. 111 See Catechism of the Catholic Church, 861; also Lumen gentium, 20.

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documents to take into account the painstaking research by biblical scholars, patrologists, and early church historians. The longer that this data is not accepted in some official way, the longer will the credibility of church leadership remain in doubt.

2. Basic Characteristics of the Roman Catholic Ecclesiology That Developed from the Time of Trent Onward The Catholic Counter-Reformation (1563–1650) began to take place only at the end of the Council of Trent.112 Its beginnings were established by Pius IV (1559–1565). Under his successor, Pius V (1566–1572), the Catholic Counter Reformation moved into high gear. In his essay, “The Development of Ecclesiology: Modernity to the Twentieth Century,” Michael Himes selects three major factors that define the catholic counter-reformation theology of church.113 • First, he notes that there is a pervasively anti-reformation or polemical edge to the theologies of church which were written during this period. Himes states that these theologies of church were “always experienced and understood in opposition to an alternative.”114 The alternative, of course, is the development of several Protestant theologies of the church. Not surprisingly in the highly polemical context of post-Reformation theology, much of Catholic ecclesiology in the decades following the Council of Trent insisted that the true and only Church is a visible institution, a societas perfecta; that is, a society having within it all the means necessary for the attainment of its ends.115

112 On the Catholic Counter-Reformation, see Franz Posset, The Front Runner of the Catholic Reformation: The Life and Works of Johann von Staupitz (Burlington, Vermont: Ashgate, 2003). Johann von Staupitz was an Augustinian priest and the spiritual director of Martin Luther. Posset argues that reform was in the air long before Luther was excommunicated. Another highly important volume on the Reformation is that of Diarmuid MacCullough, The Reformation: A History (New York: Viking, 2004). MacCullough argues that reform was part of church history from 1000 onward. 113 Michael Himes, ”The Development of Ecclesiology: Modernity to the Twentieth Century,” Gift of the Church: 45–67. 114 Himes, 46. 115 Ibid., 47.


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Almost all the major counter-reformation Catholic theologians interpreted Article Seven of the Augsburg Confession (1530) as a Lutheran statement which in their view claimed that the true and only church was an invisible and spiritual church of the saints. The Catholic theologians opposed such an understanding of church and emphasized in a polemic way that the one, true church is a visible institution here on earth. This opposition-approach slowly developed into the formation of the dominant, standard, and operative theology of the Catholic Church that remains, to some degree, operative even today. In 1962, one of the most prestigious contemporary manuals of theology was published, Sacrae Theologiae Summa.116 Skilled Jesuit scholars from Spain contributed to the development of this four-volume work. The section on the ecclesiology was written by Joachim Salaverri. His first thesis on the church established the foundation for the remainder of his essay. The first thesis states: Iesus Christus praedicavit Regnum universale, non solum eschatologicum, spirituale et internum, sed etiam in terris existens, visibile et extemum.117

From the wording of this initial statement it is obvious that the intent of Salaverri is to oppose the Lutheran teaching on an invisible church. After stating his first thesis, Salaverri carefully presents the meaning of Regnum universale. He defines the key terms and offers a history of the universal kingdom issue (40–43). Subsequently, he takes up four issues: Jesus praedicavit Regnum (46); Jesus praedicavit Regnum universale (47–51); Jesus praedicavit Regnum eschatologicum quidem, sed etiam in terrris exsistens (52–54), and finally Jesus praedicavit Regnum primario quidem spirituale et internum, sed quod etiam est externum et visibile (55–63). In the last paragraph of this section (63) Salvaverri states clearly: Regnum a Christo praedicatum est illa Ecclesia, de qua in decursu totius nostri tractatus demonstrabimus esse veram hominum in hoc mundo degentium societatem visibilem et externam, hierarchicam et monarchicam, muneribus socialibus docendi, sanctificandi et regendi praeditam atque veris visibilibus notis discernibilem (63).

116

Miguel Nicolau et al., Sacrae Theologiae Summa, v. I. In 1962, the first volume of the series was published. On October 11, 1962, the Second Vatican Council was officially opened. 117 Salaverri, “De Ecclesia Christi,” Sacrae Theologiae Summa, v. 1: 502.

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In a long and thorough way, Salaverri states that the kingdom of God that Jesus preached during his life time was and is the Catholic Church. Today, the identification of the kingdom of God and the church is, in itself, untenable. His study on ecclesiology was published in the same year that Vatican II officially began and his study represents in a very thorough way the standard, dominant, and operative theology of the Roman Catholic Church. The ecclesiology of Vatican II plays no role at all in his presentation.118 Salaverri explicitly names his opponents. The opponents are not Martin Luther or Philipp Melanchton. Rather, they are Protestant theologians, who were to some degree Salaverri’s own contemporaries, such as: Adolph von Harnack (1851–1930), Eduard Meyer (1855–1930), Heinrich Julius Holtzmann (1832–1910), Heinricht Weinel (1874–1936), Albert Schweitzer (1875–1965), Rudolf Bultmann (1885–1976), and Karl Barth (1886–1968). All of these theologians are twentieth-century scholars, with the exception of Holtzmann, whose book, Lehrbuch der neutestamentlichen Theologie, appeared in 1897. Salaverri’s study is not aimed at the sixteenth century Reformers but at twentieth century Protestant theologians. It is evident that Hime’s first criterion remains active throughout Salaverri’s ecclesiology.119 In many ways, Salaverri represents an end-point for the anti-Protestant and anti-Anglican position of the Catholic Church. Martin Luther, who was deeply concerned about the church of his day, came to the conclusion that the “Roman” church was no longer apostolic. He offered two main characteristics of an apostolic church: 1. The Word of God needs to be proclaimed by the words and actions of church leaders. Luther claimed that many church leaders were more concerned about obedience to their own words than to God’s Word. The distribution of bibles in the vernacular a major step in making the community called church more apostolic. The availability of the bible in the vernacular rooted Protestant ecclesiology and spirituality in scripture. Over the last four hundred years, Roman Catholics have built their spirituality on the celebration of sacra-

118 See Salaverri, op. cit., 487. On the title page for the section on De Ecclesia Christi, Joachim Salaverri bears the title: Theologus Concilii Vaticani. Salaverri apparently was one of the periti who drew up the initial document on the Church, that later was rejected in its entirety by the conciliar bishops. 119 Himes, op. cit., 48.


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ments. Lutherans, Calvinists, and many other Protestant Christians have built their spirituality on the Word of God.120 2. Secondly, the New Testament, Luther notes, clearly indicates that baptism and eucharist were the two sacramental moments of church life. A church is true to Christ in that the Gospel is purely preached and the sacraments rightly celebrated. To maintain that confirmation, reconciliation, marriage, ordination, and anointing of the sick sacraments were instituted by Jesus, goes against the New Testament data. Some of these rituals have, at times, been celebrated by Protestant Churches, but they are not theologically at the same level as baptism and eucharist. In 1518, the Dominican, Sylvester Prierias, stated that the division between Luther and Rome was the following: “Whoever does not rest on the doctrine of the Roman Church and of the Roman Pontiff as the infallible rule of faith from which even Sacred Scripture draws its strength and authority is a heretic.”121 Prierias viewed the Luther-problem of his day from the standpoint of hierarchical structure. Luther, however, saw the situation from the standpoint of the Word of God and the rightful celebration of the sacraments. Almost from the beginning of the Reformation, the two approaches moved in two different worlds. The Protestant Reformation in all its forms and the Roman Catholic response to this Reformation in all its forms were like two ships passing each other in the night. Constructive dialogue, in which Protestant and Catholic issues might be calmly studied, were voided by the negative reaction of Trent and its aftermath. Until the twentieth

120 For an understanding of the church in the writings of Martin Luther, see Ulrich Asendorf, Eschatologie bei Luther (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht: 1967), part II, “Der eschatologische Hintergrund in Luthers Lehre von der Kirche,” 129–242). 121 See John P. Dolan, History of the Reformation: A Conciliatory Assessment of Opposite Views (New York: Desclee Company, 1965): “A thoroughgoing Thomist, Prierias handled Luther’s writings as if he were conducting a scholastic disputation. His Dialogus was nothing more than a polemic, aimed at tagging the various theses [of Luther] ‘erroneous,’ ‘false,’ ‘presumptuous’ or ‘heretical’” (264). See also Hans J. Hillerbrand, The World of the Reformation (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1973): “A curial theologian, Sylvester Mazzolini Prierias, was assigned the task of investigating the theological aspects of the case [the 95 Theses]. . . . Entitled Against the Presumptuous Theses of Martin Luther concerning the Power of the Pope, the treatise smacked of superficiality and was characterized by the studied boredom of a renowned scholar taking on a fledgling from the provinces. It was basically a defense of authority, but it failed to distinguish between normative dogma, where church authority had to be accepted, and theological opinions, where freedom of discussion was permissible” (17).

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century, there was really no major dialogue on the central issues that separated these two churches. • Secondly, as Himes notes, the scholastic methodology and theology was based on certain texts from Thomas Aquinas. These texts became the lens in and through that a Catholic theology of church was developed. However, some background is needed to understand the selection of Thomas Aquinas. Earlier in this volume, it was mentioned that the Libri IV Sententiarum by Peter Lombard was the main text for scholastic theology. Lombard’s text itself, however, did not remain standard, for the Dominicans in the late thirteenth century selected the writings of Thomas as the proper text for their internal theological education, i.e., the education of young Dominicans. At the beginning of the fourteenth century, the Franciscans followed this pattern by selecting the theological writings of Bonaventure and Scotus as the proper texts for their internal theological education. In 1593, the Jesuits replaced the Sentences with the writings of Thomas as the theological centering for their own theological institutions.122 In other words, the majority of Catholic theologians from 1600 onward centered their teaching on the writings of Thomas Aquinas. The remarkable development of Jesuit schools throughout Europe, the Americas, the Philippines, and Asia solidified the Thomistic theological tradition as the major Catholic theological tradition.123 Himes notes that the Counter-Reformation theology of the church was strongly influenced by Francisco de Toledo (1532–1596), as well as by his student, Robert Bellarmine (1542–1621), and also by the Dominican scholar, Domingo Báñez (1528–1604). All of these scholars used a particular text from Thomas (ST II-II, q. 1, a. 10) as the starting point of their ecclesiologies. This text dealt with papal authority. But locating the teaching of ecclesiology in relation to the article in the Summa on papal authority over the formulae of faith necessarily narrowed the field of questions considered. The context of the discussion tended to limit the treatment of the Church to issues of institutional authority and the relative prerogative of magisterial organs.124

122

See page twenty-four of this volume. For a carefully constructed review of the historical development of Thomistic influence, see Thomas O’Meara, Thomas Aquinas, Theologian, 152–200. 124 Himes, op. cit., 50. 123


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The second characteristic reinforces, the first characteristic, the polemical edge of ecclesiology. Thomas Aquinas’ emphasis on papal authority and with it the issue of the church’s hierarchical structure pinpoint a key area that polemically differentiates Catholic ecclesiology from both Anglican and Protestant ecclesiologies. The theological linchpin in the Catholic standard and operative theology of church, as developed in post-Tridentine times, is apostolic authority. • Thirdly, Himes writes that from 1500 to 1700 Europe slowly became a continent of unified states, replacing the feudal monarchies.125 Many of these unified states were officially Protestant and not Roman Catholic.126 Thus, politically and theologically the Roman Catholic Church deliberately took positions with a polemical edge in opposition not only to intellectual and theological thinking and but also to political theories and ideologies. Even more, the church itself, as the papal state, was described as a unified political and religious entity, and this issue further determined the kind of ecclesiology that has been called counter-reformation ecclesiology, namely, a community that the pope governed through his vicars, the bishops.127 At the time of the French and American Revolutions, the then current operative theology of church was profoundly challenged.128 Both revolutions were seen by high members of Roman Catholic leadership as political carriers of the Enlightenment that exalted intellectual freedom and moral autonomy.129 After the French Revolution, the church in France lost a great deal of its political power. In the post-revolution years in the United States, Anglicans and almost all forms of Protestants considered the Catholic Church as a relic of the past. The anti-Catholic “Know-Nothing” party, a major anti-Catholic movement in the United States, enjoyed a strong popularity throughout the Eastern states.130

125

Ibid., 50. McBrien, op. cit., 84 notes: “By the 1530s all of Scandinavia, the British Isles, and much of Germany, Austria and France had broken communion with Rome.” 127 See Andre Goddu, “William of Ockham,” The History of Franciscan Theology: 231–310. 128 Richard McBrian, Catholicism (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1994), 642–643. 129 Ibid., 643–647. 130 See Joseph P. Chinnici, Living Stones:The History and Structure of Catholic Spiritual Life in the United States (New York: Macmillan Publishing Company, 1989) 95–96. 126

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In the post-revolution period, a few Roman Catholic scholars strove to build bridges with Enlightenment thought, but these scholars were often condemned by church leadership. Anton Günther, Jakob Frohschammer, Felicité Lammennais, Henri Lacordaire, Alfred Loisy, and Antonio Rosmini were some of the casualties in this period. The operative and dominant ecclesiology in the late nineteenth century was unabashedly neoscholastic and essentially restorative.131 Pius X’s decree, Lamentabili (1907), specifically named the problem, “modernism,” and his encyclical, Pascendi dominici gregis (1907), formulated a sort of synthesis of heretical modernism.132 Both of these papal documents need to be read on the basis of the two earlier political revolutions, namely the French and American revolutions.133 The dominant ecclesiology prior to Vatican II was restorative, for it sought to bring the Roman Catholic Church back to its position in society as it existed prior to the American and French revolutions. This theme was used pointedly by Pius XII in his address to the World Congress of the Lay Apostolate, given on October 14, 1951.134 The third characteristic is also connected to the first two characteristics. The political and social dominance of the Roman Catholic Church was challenged polemically (the first characteristic) by the development of Protestant states and nations. The political and social dominance of the Roman Catholic Church was likewise challenged hierarchically (the second characteristic) by the reduction of papal power and hierarchical oversight of the political world (the third characteristic).

131 Oskar Köhler’s essay, “The Position of Catholicism in the Culture at the Turn of the Century,” The Church in the Industrial Age: 245–256, presents an overview of Catholic weaknesses and strengths at the end of the nineteenth century. 132 See the lengthy chapters by Roger Aubert, “The Modernist Crisis,” The Church in the Industrial Age: 420–480. In the philosophical and theological struggle that has been given the name “modernism,” we can see the efforts to come to grips with the episteme of the contemporary period. Roman Catholic leadership, both papal and episcopal, tried to maintain a Neo-Thomistic status-quo, but their efforts became ineffective. The Reform Catholicism of the last two decades of the nineteenth century and the early decades of the twentieth century provides us with an early foundation for today’s epistemic and cultural change. 133 See Osborne, Ministry, 464–504; Jean.-Guy Vaillancourt, Papal Power: A Study of Vatican Control over Catholic Elites (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1980) 41–45, 177–183; see also, Roger Aubert, The Church in a Secularized Society (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1978); Eng. trans. by J. Sondheimer. 134 See Pius XII, “Address to the World Congress of the Lay Apostolate on Its Need Today,” Official Catholic Teachings: Clergy and Laity, (Wilmington, Delaware: Consortium Books, 1978), ed. Odile M. Liebard; see Osborne, Ministry, 473–480.


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These three characteristics, that Himes enumerates, have dominated the expressions of ecclesiology for the Roman Catholic Church from the Reformation to Vatican II. However, just prior to Vatican II, there were, as we have seen, many voices calling for structural change in the dominant and operative theology of the Roman Catholic Church. Pius XII’ encyclical, Mystici Corporis (1943) had refocused the meaning of church on a profoundly spiritual theme, namely, the union of the church to Jesus. His encyclical, Divino afflante Spiritu (1943) gave a blessing to the new endeavors of scriptural scholars. His encyclical, Mediator Dei (1947), was more than an endorsement for the renewal of liturgy already sanctioned by Pius X, since Pius XII subsequently established a secret committee to advise him on liturgical reform. These papal endeavors began to change official ecclesial realities as seen in the publication of a new Latin psalter, the approval of the evening Mass, the relaxation of the eucharistic fast, and the restoration of the Order of Holy Week and the Easter Vigil. When the Second Vatican Council began, committee work on liturgical reform had already been in progress for over a decade. As a result, the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy, Sacrosanctum Concilium, was the first document promulgated by the Second Vatican Council. This occurred because so much previous work had already taken place, and therefore the conciliar committee enjoyed a plethora of data from which it developed the text of the Constitution on the Sacred Liturgy. The bishops at Vatican II did not present a new view of the church through their own initiative. There had many liturgists, theologians, church historians, and biblical scholars who, in the decades prior to Vatican II, had prepared the foundations for an ecclesiological change. Moreover, in practice many of the changes that Vatican II eventually endorsed were already taking place in Europe prior to the council. In spite of all the conciliar élan vital for ecclesial renewal, a well-established minority group of bishops and Vatican curialists, even throughout the years of the Second Vatican Council, continued to maintain the dominant and operative ecclesiology that had been in place from the Reformation to the twentieth century. The documents of Vatican II again and again give expression to this dominant and operative ecclesiology, even though on subsequent pages in these documents another ecclesiology is being developed. The Vatican II documents indicate that various factions found a voice in the conciliar writings. Although one cannot claim that the bishops at Vatican presented a complete theology of the church, which was never their intention, one must say that

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the bishops at Vatican II clearly modified in serious ways the standard, operative, and dominant ecclesiology of the preceding centuries. They did this by bringing into the field of discourse fundamental issues that were lacking in the standard, operative, and dominant ecclesiology. For instance, the theme of holiness (chapter 5 of LG) reinforces the church as mystery. The role of Mary in the church (chapter 7 of LG) likewise recapitulates the church as mystery. In Gaudium et spes, anthropological, sociological, political, ethical and cultural issues become part of the field for ecclesial discourse. The constitution on liturgy, Sacrum concilium, emphasizes the cultural and vernacular differences in ecclesial worship and prayer. In this same document, the bishops even speak of a “radical adaptation of the liturgy” in some locales and circumstances (SC 40). The bishops called for a complete renewal of the sacramental rituals (SC 3 14 and 21), and in the post-conciliar period these renewals took place, in which major changes from the previous rituals are evident. Through the efforts of the Vatican II bishops, the field of ecclesial discourse as regards a theology of church has been unalterably changed. What is needed today, therefore, is a renewed theology of the church that breaks away from the standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology.

3. The Claim of Apostolicity by Roman Catholic Authors in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries One issue gradually became the key to the Roman Catholic claim to be the “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church.” This issue is apostolicity. From a theological standpoint, the issue of apostolic succession and the manner in which it has been presented constitute one of the most serious problems for Catholic ecclesiology today. In the theological text books of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the validity of the Roman Catholic Church was primarily established on an understanding of the term apostolic. Other denominations may claim to be the one, holy, and catholic (universal) church, but they cannot claim to be apostolic. This Roman Catholic position on apostolicity has been restated in Lumen gentium (20) and in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (832–835; 857–865). We have seen above that the names for Christian leaders and their functions vary considerably in the New Testament. The apostolic and sub-apostolic churches continue to exhibit this variety of name and function. Contemporary biblical scholarship and contemporary early


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church historical scholarship have rejected any “blue-print” institution of the church by Jesus. The biblical and historical research of the past one hundred years does not substantiate the ideological presentation of the institution of the church by Jesus as found in Lumen gentium and in the Catechism. In the main, this research has been accepted by biblical, historical, and theological scholars. The official leadership of the Catholic Church simply ignores this research and continues to present apostolicity in an ideological format. Perhaps these church leaders do not realize the gravity of their reaction. In the following paragraphs I want to indicate the way in which the argument which the authors of these text books used to “prove” the apostolic succession of the Roman Catholic Church. The manuals of theology, for the most part, begin with a section on a general revelation found throughout creation, but in their view such a revelation of God is vague and impersonal. Only the specific revelation made in Jesus is clear and convincing. In Jesus, God revealed God’s own self and God’s plans for creation. A major part of this plan was the institution of the church. Himes’ three characteristics of post-reformation ecclesiology are very much in evidence in these Catholic presentations. The apologetic characteristic is maintained since only in the Catholic Church is the revelation of God in Jesus maintained in its integrity. The hierarchical characteristic is maintained since God’s revelation is specifically made to the apostles who were the first bishops of the church with Peter as the first pope. They alone began a hierarchy having the authority to interpret the correctness of doctrine. The political or social edge is maintained since the Catholic Church’s mission and leadership is above any social, cultural, political and empirical determinant.135 In the majority of textbooks, ecclesiology focused on the four marks of the Church. The manner in which the four marks of the church

135 See Tanquerey, Synopsis Theologiae Dogmaticae, v. I, “De Relationibus inter Ecclesiam et Statum,” 591–615. Since these manuals were the primary source of theological thought for many generations of seminarians who eventually were ordained priests and bishops, these same men, after their ordination, operated out of this theology of the church. In the seminaries of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, no theology textbook could be used if it did not have the imprimatur of the hierarchy, and the theologians who wrote these books generally kept within the boundaries established by hierarchical control. Theological professors who went outside the boundaries more often than not experienced an official removal from teaching. For some, this meant that their names and their writings were openly called “suspect” if not “heretical.”

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are argued theologically is a story in itself. In the textbooks, strong emphasis is placed on the church as one, holy, and catholic, but ecclesial apostolicity receives the most attention. I will use Salaverri’s material as a typical example of this way of such theologizing. Salaverri’s entire argument of the marks of the church is developed so as to discern the true church from the false churches a. The Oneness of the Church In his presentation on the oneness of the church, Salaverri’s first thesis clearly emphasizes a visible unity. Christus Ecclesiam suam instituit unicam et visibilem, et quidem ut veram a falsis discernibilem.136

Since there can be only one church, the church must be unique. If there can be only one unique church, the one unique church must be visibly discerned as both one and unique. The Catholic Church, he argues, visibly presents “one church” no matter where it exists. Non-Catholic denominations may have a unity, but they do not have unicity. NonCatholic Churches, in their visible dimensions, are divided from each other in manifold ways. The apologetic thrust of Salverri’s position is evident, since the Lutherans (in his view) spoke of the church as a spiritual and non-visible entity. Salaverri states that his thesis, which joins ecclesial oneness and unicity, is catholic doctrine (doctrina catholica), and that the visible unity of the one church was implicitly defined by the First Vatican Council.137 b. The Holiness of the Church According to Salaverri, the church is holy on the basis of five realities: a. The author and head of the church is Jesus Christ himself, and in Jesus’ divine nature there is infinite holiness.

136

Salaverri, “Thesis 29,” 891. See ibid., n. 1132, 898. The phrase, “Implicitly defined by a council,” is a strange phrase, used at times by pre-Vatican II theologians. In the Sacrae Theologiae Summa, v. 1, 6, the authors provide a list of Notae Theologicae. In this list there is no mention of any implicitly defined definitions. 137


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b. The vital principle or even soul of the church is the Holy Spirit. Because Jesus and the Spirit are holy, their presence in and to the church makes the church holy. c. The very purpose of the church is the sanctification and salvation of human life. d. Only on this basis, can one further argue that catholic doctrines, ethics, laws, precepts, and sacraments are holy. e. Only on this basis can one further argue that the gifts of grace, the living out of the virtues, and the presence of charisms in catholic individuals are holy.138 It is the intrinsic holiness of the church that provides the basis why certain doctrines are holy and others are not holy, why certain ethical positions are holy and others are not holy, etc. He argues that certain doctrinal and ethical positions of the Catholic Church are intrinsically holy because they are based on the intrinsic holiness of the church itself. The internal and intrinsic holiness of the church is the presence of Jesus and the Holy Spirit. It is abundantly clear why Salaverri includes his last two statements (d and e above) and why he emphasizes their dependency on the first two statements. The holy presence of Jesus and the Spirit may be the foundation of the church’s holiness, but the selection of certain doctrinal and ethical positions as intrinsically connected to the holiness of Jesus and the Spirit rests on the hierarchical church. The hierarchy determines which doctrines and ethical positions are intrinsically and immutably connected to the holy presence of Jesus and the Spirit at the center of the church. The theological foundation for holiness led many pre-Vatican II Roman Catholic theologians to argue that the holiness in the church is ontological.139 The ontological sanctity of the church is, therefore, the foundation for the moral or lived-out holiness of the church. Ecclesial holiness provides an ontological foundation for ethical holiness. In this form of argumentation, one can sees that any call to change major structures in the church implicitly calls into question the ontological holiness of the church itself.140

138

Ibid., n. 1183, 916. Ibid., nn. 1183–1186, 916–917. 140 This kind of argumentation occurred in Vatican II during the discussions of the draft for chapter five of Lumen gentium. Some bishops wanted the text to indicate the sinfulness of the church itself. However, this intervention engendered a major row by 139

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c. The Catholicity of the Church In a popular interpretation, the catholicity of the church has been understood as a synonym for “the Catholic Church.” When some Catholics prayed: “We believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic church,” they understood the word catholic to mean the Roman Catholic Church. Theologians prior to Vatican II did not argue in this way. For them, the word catholic is based on its original Greek expression: Καθ’ ολαν that means universality. In other words, the one, holy, and apostolic church is the universal (i.e., catholic) church. The church is catholic because the one and same church can and should exist universally throughout the world. Only the Roman Catholic Church met this criterion. For the majority of theologians, the deeper understanding of the term catholic is the following: the Roman Catholic Church has a full and perfect catholicity for its mission. Tanquerey follows this line of argumentation, uniting catholicity to the Church’s unity and stability. For Tanquerey, the Catholic Church is neither individualistic nor nationalistic. Both de iure and de facto, the Roman Church is catholic. By the church’s doctrine and by its constitution, the Roman Church is universal and international. God has given the church the full and perfect right to gather all people into the one, holy, and apostolic church. This ecclesial right extends to all human beings and to all locales. In this sense, the church is de iure universal. De facto, the Roman Church may not be in all locales and ministering to all cultures, but de iure it has the right given by God to do so.141 By virtue of catholicity, the Roman Catholic Church, in this theological approach, has the moral, absolute and relative, simultaneous and perpetual right to go and to

other bishops, who insisted that sinfulness can only be ascribed to individual Catholics and not to the Catholic Church itself. Philips presents this conciliar argument in rich detail. The intensity of the bishops’ discussion clearly indicates an area of great sensitivity. To maintain that the basic structures of the Church are holy and therefore untouchable has a major consequence, namely, any effort to make structural changes in the Church can easily be stymied. Where is the line between basic structures and non-basic structures? It is this undetermined line that either allows or disallows structural change. If there can be no major structural change in the church, then any renewal of ecclesiology is a renewal of only decorative aspects. The majority of the bishops at Vatican II urged structural changes and made many such changes. A minority of bishops at Vatican II opposed any and all structural change, and this minority voice is still heard in discussions on the renewal of the church. 141 See Tanquerey, Synopsis Theologiae Dogmaticae, v. I, 506–510.


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be anywhere and at anytime in order to fulfill its Christ-given and Spirit-guided mission.142 d. The Apostolicity of the Church The apostolicity of the church is theologically presented in a way that is totally different from that of the other three marks. For the marks of one, holy, and catholic, the basic argument can be presented in the following diagram.

one

one

/ \ / Because God is—holy—therefore the church is—holy \ / \ catholic catholic

This diagram indicates that the oneness, holiness, and catholicity of God constitute the basis for the oneness, holiness, and catholicity of the church. The argument for apostolicity, however, is different. It goes as follows: since the papacy and the episcopacy in the Roman Catholic Church can be traced back directly to the apostles, therefore the Roman Catholic Church is apostolic. The argumentation is historical, not Godcentered. It is the historical data on the institution of the Church by Jesus which constitutes the apostolicity of the church. This dependency can be diagrammed in the following way:

episcopacy / \ Because the are apostolic, therefore the church is apostolic \ / papacy

142

See Tanquerey, ibid., n. 793, p. 507.

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In the post-reformation to pre-Vatican II ecclesiology, the above diagram represents the usual way by that catholic theologians argued for the church’s apostolicity. Compared to the typical arguments for one, holy, and catholic, the way of arguing for the apostolicity of the church is very different. Apostolicity, Salaverri states, is “the church’s unending identity with the mission that Christ gave to his apostles when he instituted the church.’143 His argument is based on the historical continuity (unending identity) between Jesus’ action of calling and sending the apostles on the one hand and the long historical line of bishops on the other hand. Salaverri indicates apostolicity involves a three-fold meaning. • Apostolicity of origin is not simply a general identity but rather it is an essential identity between the constitution of today’s Catholic Church with the constitution that was given by Jesus to the apostles at a definite point in history. Only accidental modifications of this constitution are possible whereby particular churches might make accommodations for the benefit of their respective communities. • Apostolicity of doctrine is the objective and specific historical identity of the doctrine in today’s church with the deposit of doctrine received and handed down by the apostles. • Apostolicity of a succession is a phrase that means that there is an historical identity between the leadership in today’s church and the leadership of the apostles. This identical leadership involves the power to teach, sanctify, and govern the Church. This power has been passed on historically by a legitimate form of succession. One sees immediately that the first three notes—the oneness/and unicity of the church, the holiness of the church, and the catholicity of the church—are not argued on the same basis that one finds in the theological verification for apostolicity. The church is one, holy, and catholic because the oneness, holiness, and catholicity (universality) of God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit are centrally present in the church. On the other hand, the church is apostolic because of its historical identity and continuity with the apostles. The issue of historical continuity, however, is the Achilles’ heel of this argument. If contemporary historical research positively and

143

Salaverri, op. cit., n. 1176, p. 914.


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verifiably challenges the historical interpretation of the data on which the argument is based, then the argument falls apart. We have already mentioned that the official historical interpretation of episkopos and presbyteros in the apostolic, sub-apostolic, and early church periods has been seriously challenged. The New Testament passage on which Salaverri and others base the claim for Jesus’ historical institution of the church, namely, Mt 16:13–21, is called today a “blueprint interpretation,” since earlier scholars who maintained this interpretation argued that these verses contained a clear and detailed presentation of a new institution by Christ of the church with its hierarchy of papacy and episcopacy. In chapter seven, the details of this current interpretation will be considered at length.

4. The Contemporary Reality of Ecclesiology and its Main Directions Towards a Renewed Theology of Church Contemporary globalization involves a re-thinking of ecclesiology. The Euro-American form of ecclesiology is, in many ways, no longer the benchmark for what constitutes a “church.” The “definition” or “nature” of church can no longer be expressed in western ideology and terminology. There are two different directions that energize the globalization of ecclesiology. On the one hand, there are scholars who maintain that the church itself has a common denominator that is applicable in each and every world locale. This common denominator of church is not differentiated by either space or time. Rather, this common denominator of church is above all space and time. An approach of this sort is searching for an essentialist understanding of church, that is, an essence that remains the same no matter where it is and no matter when it is. This common denominator form of ecclesiology, however, nullifies that any “one” church is the only true and only real church. All Christian Churches have the same essential elements. Some contemporary Catholic theological and ecclesiastical leaders maintain that this “essential church” exists only in the Roman Catholic Church, and all other ecclesial groups possess merely parts of this essential identity. By and large, the current call of a renewal of ecclesiology with its ecumenical drive challenges this Roman Catholic form of essentialist ecclesiology. Even official statements by Catholic leaders on the status of other churches, e.g., the Eastern Churches, acknowledge these other churches as “church.” Essentially, they are truly the Church of Christ.

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Their hierarchical ministry, their celebration of the sacraments, and their spirituality and theology are fully acknowledged by Catholic documentation. The only issue which these churches lack is a proper acknowledgement of the papacy. However, the Catholic acknowledgement of these Eastern Churches as “church” implies that the “proper acknowledgement of the papacy” is a secondary issue. A second approach for the globalization of ecclesiology can be designated as an existential not an essentialist, approach. Each ecclesial community is existentially a manifestation of church. In this existential approach, space and time are honored as fundamental dimensions of all reality, including the reality of church. The individuality of each community is honored as a true but not complete manifestation of church. This approach is not something new to church history. In the Eastern and Orthodox churches there have been, almost the start, a variety of Orthodox and Eastern communities, each with its own distinct characteristics. The Lutherans prefer to speak of Lutheran communities rather than a Lutheran Church. The Baptists strongly maintain the freedom and distinctiveness of each Baptist community. There is also an Anglican Community rather than an Anglican Church, since throughout the world there are separate groups of Anglicans. Roman Catholic theologians and ecclesial leaders have, for the most part, taken a dim view of the existential approach, although at this present moment of time an existential or church-as-community ecclesiology has many Roman Catholic followers. The very terms, essentialist and existential, are western terms. These terms do not carry much weight in many parts of the globe. Essential is a term that indicates that there is some sort “x-definition” that is non-relational in itself. An essential church can relate to any and all ecclesial communities, just as human nature essentially can relate to each and every existential human being. Although we are individuals, we all have the same essential nature. In this situation, the issue for either human nature or the nature of the church is the same: how does one unite the essential to the individual. The essential is only individualized in a unique existential reality. Human nature exists only in individuals—in Tom, Dick and Harry, Mary, Alice, and Sue. Essential church exists only in individualized and actual communities. In both cases, the individual (person or community) is an actual realization of one and the same essential nature. Beneath this argumentation there is a philosophy which is highly Aristotelian and also Platonic. Philosophy, not theology, determines


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the above formulation of essence and existence. This philosophy in its origin and development is fundamentally western. The philosophical form of argumentation has been used to present a theological position: there is an essence of the church which can exist in any and every place and time, and is above all cultures. In The Reception of Vatican II, Joseph Komonchak explains the constitutive elements of the church as found in Lumen gentium. He writes: A particularly important observation on this point is given in LG 8, where the council sets out the constitutive elements of the Church that a theological vision must integrate. It is at once a community of faith, hope and love and a visible structure, a hierarchical society and the Mystical Body of Christ, a visible group and a spiritual community existing on earth and endowed with heavenly gifts.144

Komonchak suggests this Vatican II position could be expressed in a diagram. I have taken him up on his suggestion and formed the following diagram.

CHURCH The mystery of the church and the people of God

Transcendent dimension

Historical dimension

• a community of faith, hope, and love

• and a visible structure in history

• a spiritual community

• and a visible community

• endowed with heavenly gifts hierarchical structures

• and endowed with human structures

144 Joseph Komonchak, “The Significance of Vatican Council II for Ecclesiology,” The Gift of the Church: 77.

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Although the conciliar bishops spoke of these two themes, transcendent and historical, in a parallel way, Komonchak notes, that they were describing “one complex reality comprising a human and divine element” (LG 8). The diagram needs some sort of relational configuration, since the transcendent material can only be understood in relationship to the hierarchical material and vice-versa. The presentation of church in Lumen gentium is relational. The transcendent dimension offers an essentialist view. When one moves to the historical dimension, are the concilar bishops talking about “essential historical qualities” or concrete and existential historical realities? More than likely, the bishops were addressing a history which is above any specific time and space. In other words, an essentialized history. In actuality, the church only exists in space and time. There is no such thing as a non-spatial or non-temporal actualized church. Unfortunately, the whole argument is based on Greek philosophy with its distinction of essence and existence. In a globalized world, there are many other philosophies which could be used to provide an understanding of ecclesiology. Relational philosophies can be found in the African and Asian world. Thus, African and Asian ecclesiologies will not “sound” like a western ecclesiology. From their own respective philosophical bases they will present relational ecclesiologies which focus on the actual situations in their own cultures. These ecclesiologies will not utilize the Aristotelian “essential” or “constitutive” philosophical framework. Even though the conciliar documents shuttle back and forth on how relational or how non-relational a theology of church might be, the relationality of the church is a major aspect of the ecclesiology as developed by the bishops at Vatican II. The relational tendency of the Vatican II bishops is clarified by a very telling and surprising statement. For this reason the church is compared, in no mean analogy, to the mystery of the Incarnate Word. As the assumed nature, inseparably united to him, serves the divine Word as a living instrument of salvation, so does the social structure of the church serve the Spirit of Christ who vivifies it, in the building up of the body (Eph 4:16) (LG 8).

In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, there had been some Roman Catholic theologians who used the incarnation as an analogy both for eucharist and for church.145 At that time, many writers expressed a deep 145 Some Protestant and Catholic theologians at the end of the nineteenth century reacted negatively to an incarnational view of the church. In their view, the incarna-


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SERVE

V

Jesus’ assumed human nature and the social structure of the Church

V

hesitation to any comparison of the incarnational presence of the Logos either to the eucharistic presence of Jesus or to the church. In the text above, the bishops indicate that the comparison must be taken analogically. Nonetheless, the bishops indicate that there is a relationship:

the Divine Word and and the Spirit of Christ

The relationship is one of service. The Divine Word does not serve the assumed human nature but vice versa. So, too, the Spirit of Christ does not serve the social structure of the Church but vice versa. This kind of relationship reinforces the very title of the document, Lumen gentium, and its entire first chapter on the mystery of the church. The mystery of the church lies in this: the church is church only when it reflects Jesus who is the true Lumen gentium. The social structure of the church is truly ecclesial only when it reflects the Spirit of Jesus. Christology determines ecclesiology, not vice versa. The church is totally relativized to Christ and this ecclesial relativization to Christ is what makes the church a mystery. Certain issues, however, complicate the view of church as found in the documents of Vatican II. a. The Meaning of the Term Church and the Reality of Church in the Vatican II Documents Both John XXIII and Paul VI presented the council with a basic thrust: what is the meaning of church today? In their answering of this question, the majority of the conciliar bishops were open to ecumenism, to dialogue with Orthodox, Anglican and Protestant communities, and to refrain from an overtly polemical stance. In their statements, many doors and windows for dialogue were opened. In their call for ecumenical dialogue and openness, cautions are certainly evident. For instance, the conciliar bishops never referred to Anglican and Protestant and other Christian Communities as churches. These groups were

tion focuses on the Logos made flesh; the church itself is not another “instance” of the Logos made flesh.

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described as ecclesial communities. The term, church, was studiously sheltered, but in the conciliar documents the bishops opened the word church. In the documents, we find that the term, church, designates the following: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7.

The Roman Catholic Church (passim and in abundance) The Eastern Catholic Churches (OE 1, 2, 3, etc.) Separated Eastern Christian Churches (OE 24–29) Separated Western Christian Churches (UR 19) A universal church (LG 22, 23, 25, etc.) A church from Abel to the end time (LG 2) In a vague way for a non-Roman Catholic Church, since there is “church” outside the visible structure of the Catholic Church (LG 8, 15–16; UR 3) 8. A heavenly church (LG c.7 passim)

This variety of predications of church complicates the fundamental question: what is the meaning of the church today? Each of the above predication has a clear validity. When one, therefore, speaks of a relational church, is the term relationally predicated to all of these understandings of church? When the church is called a sacrament, are all of these churches sacraments? Does the church subsist in all of these churches (LG 8)? The studied and deliberate refusal by the conciliar bishops to designate Anglican, Protestant, and other Christian Communities as church is in itself a loud statement that retains polemical resonance. In the years after Vatican II, many official statements do refer to Anglican and Protestant communities as church. One of the most prominent of these statements is found in the official joint-statement of John Paul II and Robert Runcie, the archbishop of Canterbury. This document, signed by both John Paul II and Robert Runcie, states the following: The bond of our common baptism into Christ led our predecessors to inaugurate a serious dialogue between our Churches, a dialogue founded on the gospels and the ancient common tradition. (Italics added)146

In this document, John Paul II names the Anglican community a church. No carefully stated wording separating Roman Catholic and Anglican

146

See above footnote 83.


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communities is present in the document. The document simply states: “our Churches.” In the time both during and shortly after Vatican II, the Roman Catholic leadership has deliberately attempted to express the identity of church in a non-polemical or anti-reformation way. In doing so, the leadership has enlarged the parameters of church so that Christians not united to Rome are also included in the designation of church. In itself, this is an indication of relationality. The Roman Catholic Church is related to non-Roman Churches and the relationship is a two-way street. Roman Catholics come to understand the meaning of church through the ecclesial living of non-Roman Catholics and vice versa. This does not mean that all the differences have been amicably settled, but it does mean that dialogue not confrontation is the preferred means of co-existence. b. Post-reformation Ecclesiology: its Position on the Relationship of Church and State This issue proved to be one of the most difficult issues that the bishops at Vatican II attempted to face. The history of the “Declaration on Religious Liberty,” (Dignitatis humanae), presents a reader with a tense, bitter, explosive, and divisive scenario. The final document contains two chapters. In the first chapter, the bishops present religious freedom vis-à-vis a generalized understanding of “state” or “government.” The second chapter presents the application of these issues of religious freedom to the Roman Catholic Church. Basically, both chapters state what religious freedom is and what it entails socially. The themes of education, public worship, and immunity from governmental restrictions are all generically treated. Since one does not live in two separated areas—the religious area and the social-political area—conflictual situations cannot help but arise. Only in a vague and expansive way are the rightful claims of the governmental side cited. In a similarly vague and expansive way, but clearly in a more extensive way, the rightful claims of religious people and institutions are cited. There are still a number of Catholic leaders who urge, at least as an ideal, that Roman Catholicism be the official religion of a particular state. A political framework, during the historical periods of emperors and kings, is part of this ideal, since the personal communication of a pope/bishop on the one/hand and an emperor/king on the other facilitated dialogue. Moreover, a single emperor or a single king could negotiate with a single pope on a wide area of issues. When elected

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and democratic societies began to multiply, a pope and a bishop had to communicate with a single political leader whose term in office might come to an end in a year or two. This situation often left everything agreed upon in the air. Moreover, the elected and democratic leaders had to consult with his/her senate, duma, etc., which in turn rotated its own membership. The history of the church from the American and French revolutions onward offers instance after instance of this “awkward situation.” The declaration on religious freedom does not enter into this aspect of the dialogue, since the governmental structures are generically described. The Declaration on Religious Liberty presents a Euro-American view. Political leadership within a global world is far more diverse and far more nuanced than the political views as presented in this document. Religious liberty is also far more complicated when a global outlook is taken into account. Because of the acrimony that this theme evoked in the council itself, the issues will probably not be on the agenda of any major synod in the near future. Therefore, Roman Catholic scholars in collaboration with non-Roman Catholic scholars need to revisit this theme in a globalized and glocalized way. A major effort to construct the foundations for a dialogue on religious liberty within a multiple and global political framework needs to be developed. c. The Issue of Women in the Church The second American congress for the laity in the Catholic Church was held in Chicago in 1893. Rose Hawthorne Lathrop in a plenary address said: “Oh woman, the hour has struck when you are to arise and defend our rights, your abilities for competition with an intellectual and professional endurance.”147 She was not the first Christian woman to speak up about sexism in the church, but she was one of the more articulate women to do so. Eighty years later, in 1964, the bishops at Vatican II stated in an unequivocal way the equal role of women in the Catholic Church “Hence, there is in Christ and in the church no inequality of the basis of race or nationality, social condition or sex . . . you are all one in Christ Jesus” (LG, 31). Twenty years later, an even stronger statement

147 Rose Hawthorne Lathrop cited in Kenan Osborne, Ministry, p. 505. See also, ibid., 581–589 for a listing and evaluation of post-Vatican II documents on women in the Catholic church.


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on the equality and dignity of women in the Catholic Church appeared in the Instrumentum laboris for the synod on the vocation and mission of the lay person in the church. “The full recognition of the dignity of women—closely aligned to the question of the acceptance and affirmation of her feminine identity—is still a goal to be reached” (9). John Paul II, in his encyclical, Dignitatem mulieris, wasted no words when he wrote: “Every individual is made in the image of God, insofar as he or she is a rational and free creature capable of knowing God and loving him” (n. 7). In 1984, the Instruction on Certain Aspects of the Theology of Liberation (II/1) and in 1986 the subsequent document Instruction on Christian Freedom and Liberation (1), both of which came from the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, repeated this call for integrity and equality of all human beings. Nonetheless, the Declaration on the Question of the Admission of Women to the Ministerial Priesthood bluntly stated: “Jesus Christ did not call any woman to become part of the twelve.” In this document, the standard argument for the apostolicity of the church was used in a way that excluded women from ordination. However, as we have seen, the historical aspects of this argument for apostolicity are flawed. In spite of all these verbal statements pro and con the equality of Christian women in the church, has not yet attained equality with Christian men. The clamor for equality, dignity, and integrity of women remains an unfinished aspect of contemporary ecclesiology. d. The Issues of Globalization and Multiculturalism Globalization has moved at a quickened pace in the last fifty years, and the Christian Churches have found themselves enmeshed in the blessings and the difficulties of a globally economic and social world. The Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences has sharply criticized the baneful effects of the WTO and the World Bank.148 The Asian Bishops state that in many instances, although the assistance is globally managed, the effects on individual localities, including local churches, have been devastating.

148

See the final statement of the seventh Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences Plenary Assembly, A Renewed Church in Asia: A Mission of Love and Service, in For All the People of Asia, v. 3 (Quezon City, Manila: Claretian Publications, 2002), ed. Franz-Josef Eilers, p. 7.

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There is a tendency to make the Roman Catholic Church global in a similar intrusive way. The term catholic, as we saw above, has a sense of globalness, but there is a world of difference between catholicity and globalization. Local conferences of bishops in developed countries find themselves in a divided position: to affirm the globalizing efforts of their own nation on the one hand or to criticize the lack of justices that these efforts bring to developing countries on the other hand. These conferences and federations of bishops are often restricted by the Vatican and these assemblies are called on to present, for their respective areas, the western or Roman way of thinking: Sentire cum ecclesia. In the context of culture, most Christian Churches are today in a similar disjunctive situation. In Anglican, Protestant and Roman Catholic Churches, there is still a dominance of the Euro-American culture at the expense of other cultures. This leads to a sense of superiority and domination by the Euro-American Christians. It also raises the issue of racism and white supremacy. These latter two issues are generally not discussed by high-ranking church groups, but the racist issues need to be placed center stage. Otherwise, difficulties will continue to multiply.149 e. The Issue of Canon Law In 1917, a Code of Canon Law was promulgated for the Roman Catholic Church. It was the first-ever Code. However, this code had a history that antedated 1917. Vatican I included a renewal of canon law on its agenda that never took place. Prior to Vatican I, the legislative activity of the Roman Church was in considerable confusion. The 1917 Code of Canon Law was the most radical revision of law that the western Catholic Church had ever experienced. John XXIII connected the call for a council to a revision of the 1917 Code. The documents of the Second Vatican Council themselves required a thorough revision of the church’s code. Paul VI has been called the “father of the new code.” He saw the need to accommodate the Code of Canon Law to the new ways of thinking which the Second Vatican Council had formulated.150

149

See Osborne, Orders and Ministry, 81–84, 151–156. James Coriden, Thomas Green, and Donald Heintschel, ed., The Code of Canon Law: a Text and Commentary (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1985), 5. In this volume, the “General Introduction” by John Alesandro (1–22) offers a summary of the history of canon law in the Western Catholic Church, and it also presents a detailed 150


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The New Code of Canon Law (1983) is a major text in that the renewal of ecclesiology adopted by Vatican II became a part of the legal activity of the Roman Catholic Church. The commission that drew up this new code established ten principles of revision. In these principles one reads: a safeguarding of the rights and obligations of each individual person; a careful maintenance of the distinction of external and internal fora; pastoral care as the hallmark of the code; the enhancement of the role of bishop; the principle of subsidiarity; a non-arbitrary use of ecclesial power; the safeguarding of personal rights; an honoring of territorial jurisdiction; a minimizing of ecclesiastical penalties; and finally a canonical expression based on the documents of Vatican II.151 John Alesandro, the author of the “General Introduction” in the English Translation of the Revised Code, makes the following important statement: The Council’s ecclesiology and the specific juridic character of the Code are two important foundations on which to build a proper interpretation of the law. They exemplify the need for intellectual caution and acumen when studying the canons and implementing them on the local scene.152

It is the renewed ecclesiology of Vatican II that provides an understanding of the newly formulated Code of Canon Law. By itself, the Code cannot serve as the “final expression” or the “correct view” of ecclesiology. Nonetheless, its relationship to a renewal of the theology of Church as found in the documents of Vatican II is unmistakable. The process of revision of Canon Law after Vatican II was another indication that a renewal of ecclesiology has taken place in the Catholic Church, and that the standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology has been and is still being changed.

overview of the committee’s work to revise the 1917 Code. In the New Commentary on the Code of Canon Law (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 2000), Ladislas Örsy in an introductory statement, “Theology and Canon Law,” 1–9, also describes at length the place and role of law in the church. Örsy lists several ways in that this relationship of church and law has been described and even used as a basis for interpretation. Örsy, 8–9, provides a summary of the relationship of church and law that guided the authors who provided the commentary on the New Code in this upgraded edition. 151 Alesandro, op. cit., 6–7. 152 Ibid., 14.

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chapter three 5. Conclusions

In the above pages, we have considered ecclesiology from the Reformation-Tridentine period, the terminus a quo, to the post-Vatican II period, the terminus ad quem. This material constitutes the historical starting point for the eventual proposal of a relational theology of church. From the standpoint of history, we are able to see many positive elements of ecclesiology that need to be fostered and continued. We also see the areas that have caused a deep sense of incredibility vis-à-vis the contemporary church, particularly the Roman Catholic Church. In the third millennium, these areas need to be addressed in a serious way. Our findings have also indicated that ecclesiology is a subaltern part of theology. In a primary way, ecclesiology is subaltern to a theology of the Trinitarian God. This issue will be the major focus of chapter five. In chapter six, we will see that it is also subaltern to a theology of creation, a theology of the incarnation of the Logos, and a theology of the sending of the Spirit. In other words, ecclesiology as subaltern is not only related to other theological issues, it is dependent on these other theological issues and not vice versa. An ecclesiology for the third millennium must be subaltern, relational, and subordinate. Ecclesiology does not and should not control the theologies of a Trinitarian God, of the Incarnation of the Logos, and of the sending the Spirit. Rather, these latter theologies control ecclesiology. In the historical overview we have just made, we have seen that in a strong way the standard ecclesiologies of the major Christian Churches have exerted undue influence over the ways in which other major theological positions were presented. In the post-Reformation theology, a theology of God and Christology were structured to “prove” that only the Roman Catholic Church or only the Anglican Community or only a given Protestant Church was the correct Church. This form of theologizing needs serious revision. Our historical findings also indicate that the standard and dominant way by that church leadership in the Catholic Church has been presented—namely, through the issue of apostolicity—cannot be maintained. From the Reformation and Trent onward, Catholic theological and ecclesiastical leadership has focused on the apostolicity of the church as the major basis for papal and episcopal authority. The historical argument for apostolicity, that even today official statements


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of the Catholic Church continue to maintain, has been seriously challenged. The argument as it is presented is no longer viable. The role of women in the church also calls for a change in ecclesiology. The call for a more equal role by woman began in the nineteenth century and by the end of the twentieth century it had become a major factor. As we move through the first decade of the new millennium, it is evident that Catholic church leadership has as yet not accepted a theology of church in which Christian women meet the standards presented on this issue by Lumen gentium (32), Dignitatem mulieris (7), the Instruction on Certain Aspects of the Theology of Liberation (II/1), and the Instruction of Christian Freedom and Liberation (1).153 In the third millennium, the multicultural and globalized world situation continues to challenge the Euro-American hegemony over theology, liturgy, law, and leadership representation. The majority of Christians, including Catholics, do not live in the northern hemisphere. However, the leadership of many Christian Churches remains in the hands of northern-hemisphere men and women. All of these issues have called for changes in the theology of church leadership and structures. Structural change in any institution, however, generally arouses intense opposition, since structural change often includes a change in structural leadership itself. Moreover, in the area of structural change as far as the church is concerned, one cannot help but raise issues that some consider essential, necessary, and immutable. Many of these so-called immutable structures, however, arose due to historical reasons; in a particular, spatio-temporal church community were these structures theologically interpreted as essential. In time, the theological interpretation for the raison d’être these structure came to be further interpreted as necessary and immutable. In themselves, however, these structures have no necessary or immutable status. They are contingent and unnecessary. Chapter three has attempted to describe the present status of ecclesiology as it is at the beginning of the third millennium. The actual third millennium church, whether Anglican, Orthodox, Protestant, or Roman Catholic, is neither the best church that ever existed nor is it the worst church that ever existed. The Christian Churches that exist at the start of the third millennium reflect both beauty and blemish. Nonetheless,

153

For these references and a detailed commentary, see Osborne, Ministry, 581–589.

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these are the church which at this moment of time are “our churches.” These are the churches that we—Anglicans, Orthodox, Protestants, Pentecostal, Independent, Free, and Roman Catholics—belong to. The ecclesial situation is similar to a familial situation. One’s own family may be in some respect dysfunctional, but it remains “our family,” and we love this family dearly. So, too, the church we belong to may be in some respects dysfunctional, but it is the church we belong to and we love it dearly. Let us conclude this chapter with a look at the reasons why we love a non-perfect church. What provides the church and therefore its ecclesiology with beauty, holiness, and awe is its relationship to God, to the Incarnate Logos, and to the sending of the Spirit. By itself, the church does not have any beauty, any holiness, or does it by itself awaken in us a sense of awe and demand our allegiance. In the documents of Vatican II, the ecclesial characteristics which truly reflect God were spelled out, not in any full way, but at least in a centering way. a. The church is mystery, i.e., mystery in its relation to the Light of the world, Jesus. Hence, the church is the mystery of the moon. This Christological relationship is the foundation for all aspects of the church’s identity. The mystery of Christ is the solar mystery; its ecclesial reflection is it lunar mystery. b. The church is the mystical body of Christ. This terminology is used in the conciliar documents, though not in a centering way, to emphasize the spiritual and christological dimension of church life. The church is both institutional and it is also mystical. These two characteristics too often remain side-by-side. A Christian may be exasperated by certain institutional maneuvers, but the same Christian remains entranced by the mystical dimension of the same institutional church. c. The church is a foundational or basic sacrament. This terminology is used with a certain abundance but without a clear definition of the term sacrament. Nonetheless, the sacramentality of the church is part of the church’s deepest meaning. As a sacrament, the church is a sacrament of the Incarnation and a sacrament for all men and women. In this approach, the church is vitally relational. It also indicates that the church is not an institution or even a mystical body which we have to focus on. As a sacrament, the church is relational, for it points to (sacramentalizes) the “of ” aspect of its


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sacramental nature, and it points to (sacramentalizes) the “to” aspect of is sacramental nature. d. The church is the people of God. This terminology is used in the conciliar documents to emphasize the foundational dignity of all baptized, confirmed and eucharistized Christians. The church is basically a special group of people who have been called by God. The primary focus of this title, people of God, is not on the word people but on the phrase of God. At this basic dimension, all Christians enjoy unity, equality and integrity, not because they are “people” but because they are “God’s people.” e. The church is the presence of God’s holiness. This dimension is found in a special way in chapter five of Lumen gentium. Holiness, similar to the term people of God, stresses the presence of the Spirit of holiness in all Christians, a presence that involves no hierarchical status. Each Christian is special, for he or she reflects the Spirit of all holiness. f. The church is hierarchical and institutional. This terminology is used with abundance in current ecclesiologies, but both hierarchy and institutionality are subservient to the church as mystery and to the christological and spirit dimensions of the church. In many ways hierarchy and institutionality are subservient to the church as the people of God. The icon for institutional and hierarchical ministry is Jesus who washed the feet of the disciples. The key statement for institutional and hierarchical ministry is the gospel phrase of Jesus himself: “I have come not to be served, but to serve.” When institutional and hierarchical leadership are icons of Christ’s own service ministry, then the institutional and hierarchical leadership merits our acceptance. The historical starting point has given us many items for our journey. Most of these issues are of great value. However, some are burdensome and will make the journey difficult. Important as these historical issues are, we need other dimensions for our integrated starting point, and so we turn to the next dimension that is the philosophical starting point.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE PHILOSOPHICAL STARTING POINT: RELATIONAL BEING

The second point of departure for our journey is the philosophical starting point. Every ecclesiology, Anglican, Protestant, Orthodox, Pentecostal, Independent, Free Church, and Roman Catholic, involves some form of philosophical thinking. The dominant and operative Roman Catholic ecclesiology, that began during the counter-reformation and continued to the onset of the second Vatican Council, is itself provisioned with definite philosophical structures. Ecclesiology is never a matter of pure theology. Sociological, anthropological, political and economic issues all influence the structuring of an ecclesiology. However, philosophical elements clearly structure a theology of church in a way only second to those of theological import. Either a deliberately selected and openly declared philosophical form permeates a given ecclesiology, or a non-reflected but still quietly present philosophical form shapes the ecclesiological discussion. In this chapter, I present the philosophical starting point from which I develop a theology of church, the ultimate goal of this book. However, no philosophy is absolute, and as a consequence I am not making any absolute claim for the philosophical structures that I employ in this presentation. Nor do I expect that a reader needs to agree with me. Rather, the expectation is this: that a reader will apprehend more clearly the philosophical starting point of my position and honor it as he or she would honor other philosophical positions including his or her own. In order to provide some sort of organization, clarity, and also delineation, the chapter is divided into three main parts. The three main parts, however, do not present a total picture of Franciscan philosophy. Rather, they offer an insight into key issues that have a major bearing on the focus of this volume: the eventual presentation of a relational theology of church for the third millennium. 1. The theme and goal of this chapter. 2. The philosophical starting point: relational being 3. Conclusions

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chapter four 1. Theme and Goal of this Chapter

The theme of this present chapter is straightforward: to indicate as precisely as I can the fundamental philosophical positions from which I begin this journey. To do this, I have chosen key positions expressed in the philosophical writings of Scotus that in my view are best suited for a relational theology. In my judgement, these key aspects of scotistic philosophy are meaningful to the western world and to the Roman Catholic Church in which we live today. To substantiate this, I have not only used the critical texts of Scotus’ own writings, but also the findings of contemporary major scotistic scholars. One such volume should be acknowledged: Duns Scot à Paris: 1302–2002: Actes du colloque de Paris, 2–4 septembre, 2002.1 The intent of this book is clearly stated: “Il a permis de faire le point des dernières découvertes historiques et philologiques, et de donner un état des recherches scotists en cours, qui ont conu un essor rapide et même inattendu ces dernières années.”2 Gérard Sondag reminds us that the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were the golden years of scotism,3 and Antonie Vos notes that the impact of “Duns Scotus’ innovations collapsed at the end of the eighteenth century, when scholasticism [itself ] collapsed altogether.” He goes on to describe the subsequent situation as follows: the nineteenth century, during that history was touted as all-determining, was l’âge de l’oubli de Duns Scot. However, as Vos concludes, “The twentieth century slowly rediscovered him.”4 Not only has there been a rediscovery of Scotus in the last century and in the early years of the third millennium, but key authors have noted how profoundly Scotus played a role that eventually opened the Euro-American world to what has been called

1 Olivier Boulnois, Elizabeth Karger, Jean-Luc Solère, and Gérard Sondag, Duns Scot à Paris, 1302–2002: Actes du colloque de Paris, 2–4 septembre 2002 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004). Henceforth referred to as DSP. 2 Ibid., backcover. 3 Gérard Sondag, “Jean Duns Scot et Pascal sur les états de la nature,” Revue des Sciences Philosophiques et Théologiques 83 (1999), 4. A less grandiose picture of Franciscan Scotism is presented by Pierre Jacard, “La Rennaisance de la Pensée Franciscaine,” Revue de Théologie et de Philosophie, 18 (1930), 103–131, esp. 106–107 in which the author states: “A vrai dire, la déchéance de la scholastique franciscaine était déjà complète à cette époche [du XVIIIe siècle].” 4 Antonie Vos, “Duns Scotus at Paris,” DSP: 19.

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the “modern approach.”5 Well-known contemporary philosophers have found the writings of Scotus relevant for today’s world.6 Thus, my acceptance of key ideas, that are found in Scotus and that have been recently re-studied and re-developed, is not meant to be a return to the middle ages but a contemporizing of Scotistic thought in the world of today. The nineteenth century may indeed have been “l’âge de l’oubli de Duns Scot.” However, from the second half of the twentieth century onward there has not been a forgetting of Scotus. Rather, there has been an exponential growth in the perception of the value of scotisitic thought for today’s world. The literature on this renewal of Scotus is both intensive and extensive, and I want to show in the following pages how insightful and helpful Scotus is for the church’s struggle to regain its credibility. It should be noted in this introductory material that I am neither a Scotus scholar nor a medievalist. I am a systematic theologian. Without any doubt, I am taking positions of Scotus and adapting them to my own way of thinking as a systematic theologian. Nor is it my intent to present Scotus within his own historical framework. I am more interested in an effort to express as clearly as I can some fundamental issues that Scotus himself perceived in his own new way and then reflect on their contemporary value for the Church today. Without any doubt there are times when I will not explain Scotus as clearly as contemporary scotistic scholars would like. Nonetheless, I hope it is clear that I am standing on the shoulders of many past and present giants of scotistic research. My indebtedness to these scholars is profound. Relationality is key throughout the writings of Scotus. Giorgio Pini describes Soctus in a remarkable way. Scotus, like (Radulphus) Brito, maintains that relations are real things, really distinguished from the other categories. Actually, in his questions on the Metaphysics and in his Sentences commentary, he pays much attention

5 See Axel Schmidt, “The Concept of Time in Theology and Physics,” DSP: 595–606, esp. 600–606; Ludger Honnefelder, “Ètienne Gilson et Jean Duns Scot: l’ Être et l’essence et l’histoire de la métaphysique,” DSP: 179–194, esp. 179–181; 193–194. 6 See Gustav Bergmann, Logic and Reality (Madison, Wisconsin: University of Madison Press, 1964); W. Park, “Scotus, Frege and Bergmann,” The Modern Schoolman, 67 (1990) May, 259–273; R. M. Chisolm, “Possibility Without Haecceity,” Studies in Essentialism, edd. Peter French et al. (Minneapolis, 1986).

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chapter four to this issue, and he can be regarded as one of the fiercest champions of the reality of relations.7

This is a strong encomium of Scotus: to be “one of the fiercest champions of the reality of relations.” When one studies the many philosophical endeavors of the total population of the contemporary world, it is clear that the majority of the human race understands the universe in a relational way and not in an essentialist way. This is true, in general, for the Asian world, the African world, and the Native Populations of the Western Hemisphere. Only in the contemporary Euro-American world does one still find a fairly dominant essentialist world view. This is particularly evident in today’s neo-conservative religious world. For the ecclesiological purposes of this present volume, we can state the situation even more clearly: in a major way, the leadership of the Euro-American Christian Churches still presents a strong resistance to any and every relational form of philosophy or theology. By essentialist, I mean that the essential nature of every basic reality can be defined without relationship to anything else. The influence of Aristotle and Descartes on this essentialist definition is clear from an ontological standpoint, and the influence of Kant is likewise apparent from an epistemological standpoint. Edmund Husserl, in his lectures on phenomenology given at Göttingen in 1907 challenged western thought on this matter. Gary B. Madison describes the situation as follows: A pivotal moment in the unfolding of Husserl’s phenomenology occurred in 1907 with a series of five lectures delivered in Göttingen. In these lectures Husserl introduced his celebrated “phenomenological reduction,” the express purpose of that was to achieve a decisive overcoming of what the French translator of this work, Alexandre Lowit, has called “la situation phénoménale du clivage,” in other words, the subject/object split that presides over the origin and subsequent unfolding of modern [western] philosophy from Descartes onwards. To speak in contemporary terms, what Husserl was seeking to accomplish by means of the “reduction” was a thoroughgoing “destruction” of the central problematic of modern [western] philosophy itself, namely the “epistemological” problem

7 Giorgio Pini, Categories and Logic in Duns Scotus: An Interpretation of Aristotle’s Categories in the Late Thirteenth Century (Leiden: Brill, 2002) 200–201. See Scotus, Quaestiones super libros Metaphysicorum Aristotelis, (St. Bonaventure, New York: Franciscan Institute Publications, 1997) v. I, l. v, q. 11, n. 50; also Ordinatio, II, d. 1, q. 4–5; Lectura, II, d. 1, q. 4–5. See also M. G. Henninger, Relations. Medieval Theories 1250–1325 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), 68–78.


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of how an isolated subjectivity, closed in upon itself, can none the less manage to “transcend” itself in such a way as to achieve “knowledge” of the “external world.”8

When the subject and object dimensions of reality are no longer kept apart, relational thinking takes over. The wall between the subjective and the objective is a clivage; when the wall is removed, clivage no longer exists. Scotus presents his own philosophical point of departure that, he contends, is basic for any and all theology. In this starting point a wall is removed and clivage no longer exists. In the Lectura, he writes: Item, nisi ens importaret unam intentionem univocam, simpliciter periret theologia.9

Scotus’ position is extremely challenging. Scotus is saying that there can be absolutely no theology at all, unless there is at least one univocal intention. I accept this position as my own philosophical starting point. Scotus’ univocal position helps to overcome “la situation du clivage.” It helps deconstruct, in its own way, the subject/object split that has presided over western philosophy for centuries. It de-isolates subjectivity from its own closure upon itself. In doing this, it unites rather than divides. Some explanation of Scotus’ sentence is necessary. The phrase, una intentio univoca, is not immediately clear. Throughout the thirteenth century and into the fourteenth century, the Latin word intentio was a term used widely but differently by all the philosophical and theological writers of that time. A Latin translation of Aristotle’s Categories was well-known and well-read by twelfth-century medieval scholars. In fact, it was the only accessible Aristotelian volume in Latin at that period of time. A Latin version of Aristotle’s Metaphysics became available to the universities only through the translation that Michel Scot made c. 1220–1224. In the many medieval commentaries on the Categories and the Metaphysics, the word intentio developed in three different ways. In logic (that is, in the Categories) intentio refers only to a mental construct. In medieval epistemology, the issue of secondary intention engendered a divided context. For some scholars it remained only a mental intentio,

8 Gary B. Madison, “Hermeneutics: Gadamer and Ricoeur,” Continental Philosophy in the Twentieth Century, v. 8, Richard Kearney, ed.: 297–298. 9 Scotus, Lectura, I, d. 3, p. 1, q. 1–2; Vat. Ed. v. 16, pp. 266–267.

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while for other scholars it was related to an extra-mental reality. In their epistemological discussions, the scholars were looking for the bridge from internal thought to reality. All knowledge comes to human nature through the senses, and the sense knowledge gained by an individual is presented in some form to the human mind. Is the operational form of the human mind an intention? Is this mental form of intention—the mind itself intending—related only to the mind (passive intellect) or is it an intention that has a dual relationship, that is, a relationship to the mind and at the same time to the reality from which thought stems? For other scholars, is the data of sense knowledge, accepted by the active intellect but only through a secondary intention? Giorgio Pini spends a major part of his study, Categories and Logic in Duns Scotus, on the views of Robert Kilwardy, Albert the Great, Thomas Aquinas, Giles of Rome, Peter of Auvergne, Henry of Ghent, Simon of Faversham, and Radulphus Brito. Only after this lengthy exposition does Pini present the views of Scotus. Pini concludes that in Scotus’ Commentary on the Categories, intention remains a mental construct, and its reality and objectivity are mental, while in his Commentary on the Metaphysics and in his theological writings, intention has a mental reality but secondary intention has a reality connection to the existing world.10 Without going further into the details of this complicated theme, I simply want to state that in the Lectura, that is a theological writing, the una intentio univoca is not simply a mental construct. It refers to a univocal reality that is objectively existent. From a theological standpoint, Scotus is arguing that unless there is an actual reality that is una intentio univoca all theology simply perishes. In the following pages, I will examine in a more precise way what this una intentio univoca involves. For Scotus, we are not playing a word game or a cognitional game. There is a major objective reality that must be univocal if one wants to move into theology. Without this una intentio univoca all talk about God would be based only on imagination and mental constructs. There must be an actual univocal union of some kind if we humans want to claim that God exists. Otherwise, simpliciter periret theologia.

10

On this issue see Olivier Boulnois, “Duns Scot, théoricien de l’analogie et de l’être,” John Duns Scotus: Metaphysics and Ethics, (Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1996), edd. L. Honnefelder, R. Wood and M. Dreyer: 293–315. Boulnois comes to the same conclusion as Pini. Henceforth this volume is referred to as ME.


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Scotus’ foundational position, as expressed in the Lectura, must be stated alongside another citation that is more theological than philosophical. One finds this citation in the Quaestiones Quodlibetales: Et ratio est, quia omnis talis intellectio, scilicet per se et propria et immediata requirit ipsum objectum sub propria ratione objecti praesens, et hoc vel in propria existentia, puta si est intuitiva vel in aliquo perfecto repraesentante ipsum sub propria et per se ratione cognoscibilis, si fuerit abstractiva; Deus autem sub propria ratione divinitatis non est praesens alicui intellectui creato, nisi mere voluntarie.11

The key word in this citation for our purposes is “voluntarily.” Only if God freely reveals God’s own self can we humans have any knowledge of God at all.12 Philosophically, the citation from the Lectura requires at least one univocal concept; otherwise, theology would perish. Theologically, the citation from the Quodlibet requires that God acts first and voluntarily; otherwise, there would be no theology at all. These two citations reflect a struggle, both philosophical and theological, that has taken place since Christian philosophical theology began. Scotus’ succinct statements on the two issues simply confront these long-standing positions in a starkly-stated fashion. In this chapter, my focus is on the philosophical side, and in chapter six, I focus on the theological side.13

11 Scotus, Quaestiones Quodlibetales: Joannis Duns Scoti Opera Omnia (Paris: L. Vivès, 1895) q. 14, 10, p. 39. There is an English translation by Felix Alluntis and Allan Wolter, God and Creatures: The Quodlibetal Questions (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1975) 324–325. In 1960, Alluntis had translated the Quaestiones Quodlibetales into Spanish, using Latin codices, which Luke Wadding did not have. Alluntis’ Latin text differs from that of the Vivès edition. The English translation follows the numbering system of the Spanish edition and has restored a text in Quaestio Prima which the Vivès edition had relegated to a footnote. In this chapter, I cite the Latin from the Vivès edition but I have also compared the translations to the English translation. No major conflicts were found in these citations. 12 In the text from the Quaestiones Quodlibetales, the reference to intuitive knowledge (“if the intellection is intuitive”) is an indirect reference to angelic nature. Human knowledge is abstractive knowledge. In both instances, God must voluntarily be present to a creature’s intellect. No creature, however, has an innate knowledge of God, nor is it possible for either an angel or a human to arrive at a clear knowledge of God unless God has freely acted first. 13 See Mary Elizabeth Ingham, “John Duns Scotus: An Integrated Vision,” The History of Franciscan Theology (St. Bonaventure, New York: The Franciscan Institute, 1994), ed. Kenan Osborne: 185–230. In her essay, Ingham stresses the correlation of Scotus’ philosophy and theology; see 187, 196, 197, and her entire discussion on mutuality, 210–226.

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The goal of the chapter is straightforward: namely, to establish the philosophical parameters within which a relational theology can be meaningfully constructed. A relational theology cannot be developed on the essentialist forms of philosophy that have tended to govern western Christian thought from Plato and Aristotle down to current times.14 Postmodern philosophy has broken this western essentialist mold through its more personalist, existential, and relational philosophical framework. In my view, some of Scotus’ philosophical positions and some positions in postmodern philosophy are co-beneficial. This cobeneficiality offers a credible contemporaneity to major parts of the scotistic enterprise.15

14 See Pierre Pellegrin, “Aristotle,” A Guide to Greek Thought, (Cambridge, Massachusetts: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2003), edd. Jacque Brunschwig and Geoffrey E. R. Lloyd with the collaboration of Pierre Pellegrin, Eng. trans. under the direction of Catherine Power: 32–52. On p. 52, Pellegrin writes: “Modern philosophy and science have been constructed in harmony with Aristotle or in opposition to him, but never without him.” An essentialist framework based on or in opposition to Aristotle has dominated the western world down to the present. Central to this essentialist position is Aristotle’s understanding of “autonomous entities, the substances (ousiai)” 40; “Aristotle suggests in Posterior Analytics that the ti en einai, the ‘essential definition of a subject,’ is constituted by the elements that are proper to the essence (ti estin), or, following a correction proposed by a modern editor, by what is proper among the thing that are in the essence (II, vi, 92, a. 7)” 49. 15 Scotus was indeed influenced by Aristotle. Aristotle’s philosophy is a comprehensive and all-inclusive metaphysical enterprise. In many ways, this is Aristotle’s genius: his philosophy, with its predicamental categories, includes all being as he understood it. As a system, Aristotelianism is therefore tightly interwoven. Scotus was well aware of the constrictions that Aristotelian philosophy required. Working within the Aristotelian framework is similar to being within a cul-de-sac. There is only one entry and exit. However, Scotus in many ways broke out of the cul-de-sac strictures. On certain issues, he moved beyond Aristotle in creative ways. One finds this in his formal distinction, in his understanding of Haecceitas, in his approach to logic, in his contingent causality, in his theory of radical contingency, and in his understanding of the will, especially the freedom of a self-moving will. The list could go on. It is precisely because Scotus moved beyond Aristotle in many ways that are far more relational than Aristotle’s system allows that Scotus has so much to offer to contemporary postmodern thought. In general, postmodern philosophy includes the subject-object reconstruction, temporality, individuality, and linguistic relativity. Scotus’ philosophy in many foundational ways connects with each of these four issues. For this reason, Scotus is seen more and more today as a philosopher of major contemporary moment.


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2. The Philosophical Starting Point: Relational Being The following pages provide a lengthy section that explicates the philosophical starting point. For the sake of clarity and organization, it is divided into four sections. a. b. c. d.

The issue of univocity The issue of infinity The issue of contingency and freedom The issue of self-moving being

a. The Issue of Univocity Univocity in the writings of Scotus has been subjected to various interpretations.16 In Scotus’ own works, we should study well the lengthy third question of the Lectura. We are indebted to the recent work of Theo Kobusch, who has provided us with a detailed historical background on the matter. In his article, “Das Seiende als transzendentaler oder supertranszendentaler Begriff: Deutungen der Univozität des Begriffs bei Scotus und den Scotisten,” Kobusch analyzes the hermeneutical history of the term, univocal, both in Scotus himself and in his followers.17 Kobusch notes that the term, univocal, is used in the writings of Scotus at various levels. He mentions three particular levels, in which Scotus finds the term univocal of special value. • First level–genera: The first level is that of genera, since genera offer a common example of a basic level of univocal predication. The usual example in medieval philosophy for this use of univocal predication is

16 See Boulnois, “Duns Scot, théoricien de l’analogie de l’être,” ME: 308–315. See also Honnefelder, Ens inquantum ens. Der Begriff des Seienden als solchen als Gegenstand der Metaphysik nach der Lehre des Johannes Duns Scotus (Münster: Aschendorf, 1979); and Stephen Brown, “L’unité du concept d’être au début du quatorzième siècle, ME, 327–344. Jean-Luc Marion, God Without Being (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1991) mentions Scotus’ view of univocity (80, 82, and 226). However, his view replicates the standard and dated view that Thomas predicated “being” of God analogously, while Scotus predicated “being” of God univocally. It is obvious that Marion’s approach to Scotus is limited. Nonetheless, many of Marion’s insightful positions find an echo in Scotistic thought that perhaps he does not realize. 17 Theo Kobusch, “Das Seiende als transzendentaler oder supertranszendentaler Begriff: Deutungen der Univozität des Begriffs bei Scotus und den Scotisten,” ME: 345–366.

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taken from Aristotle himself, namely, the univocal nature of all human beings as rational animal or ζωον λογικον. For Aristotle, the genus, rational animal, applies to each and every human being in exactly the same univocal way. Essentially, a single, specific person is not more human—more a rational animal—than any other person. All human beings are equally or univocally human beings, that is, rational animals. Univocity, therefore, has a legitimate place when used for the predication of genera for finite beings. There was, however, throughout the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, a number of carefully stated conditions on the issue of common nouns and their relationship to extramental things. Thomas Aquinas, Siger of Brabant, and Scotus were key writers on these conditions and distinctions regarding genera and species. This semantic issue has been analyzed carefully by Pini in his article, “Species, Concept, and Thing: Theories of Signification in the Second Half of the Thirteenth Century.”18 Biological studies today use this same term, genera, to express a common category of biological classification. Genus is a ranking between biotic families and their related biotic species, comprising morphologically or phylogenetically related species or even an isolated species exhibiting unusual differentiation. Biological genera provide the common phrases that indicate phyla of very similar if not identical characteristics. More recently, experiments in cloning have produced univocal offspring. Can we say, then, that in contemporary biology the term genera is used in a univocal way? Perhaps, we can say only this: given what we know about such genera, there is a univocal commonness to such phyla. The door remains open to further specification and differentiation. Contemporary science employs many terms univocally but not in an absolute way. Further scientific studies may or may not readdress a univocal specification of a given genus. From these studies, it may happen that a specific biotic family or biotic species might be found not to be univocally related to another given biotic species, and thus could be transferred to a different genus. Thus a given phylum could move from one univocal genus to a different univocal genus. It might also happen in science that an accepted univocity would be entirely rejected due to further research on the issue.

18 Giorgio Pini, “Species, Concept, and Thing: Theories of Signification in the Second Half of the Thirteenth Century,” Medieval Philosophy and Theology, 8, (1999) 1: 21–52.


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The medievalists, however, tended to employ univocal terms in a more absolute way in keeping with their essentialist philosophical base. Today, the term genera is used in a quasi-univocal way. The use of biological genera univocally designates in a finite way a given finite reality. Because of the finite quality of the reality so designated, one needs to speak more cautiously about the univocal nature of a given reality. Biological use of univocal genera does not claim an absolute or unchanging status. In the physical sciences, the need for some sort of finite univocity is also evident. Stuart F. Kauffman, in his volume, The Origins of Order, states the following as a conclusion to the first half of his book: Having marked the note that complex systems exhibit spontaneous order, mark a second, bold and fundamental possibility. Adaptive evolution achieves the kind of complex systems that are able to adapt. The lawful property of such systems may well be that they abide on the edge of chaos. This possibility appears to me to be terribly important. The thought that selection achieves systems able to adapt leads ultimately to the question of whether there may be attractors of that selective dynamics. If it is the case that systems poised between order and chaos are indeed the natural culmination of selective evolution, we shall have found deep laws indeed.19

In Kauffman’s view, attractors that account for complex changes within developed organisms may also be found at the edge of chaos and order, that is, at the very rudimentary beginnings of the universe. The univocal aspect of his argument is as follows: the attractors found at the level of complex changes are the same as the attractors found at the edge of chaos. If this were not the case, Kauffman could not postulate any attractors at the edge of chaos. He would have to argue that a different kind of attractor operates at the edge chaos and that a different kind of attractor operates at the complex stage of evolutionary life-forms. Basically, attractor in his view must be understood in the same way, i.e., univocally. Unless this is true, his position would be invalid. This is but one example of how a physical scientist uses univocal terms in the field of science.

19 Stuart A. Kauffman, The Origins of Order (New York: Oxford University Press) 1993, 235ff.

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• Second level–distinction of logical and real: In Scotus, univocal predication can apply, at a second level, both to real entities and to cognitive entities. In Quaestiones super praedicamenta Aristotelis, Scotus writes: Dico . . . quod univocum apud logicum dicitur omne illud quod per unam rationem devenit ad intellecum, secundum quam dicitur de multis; apud naturalem non est omne tale, sed tantum quod est unum secundum ultimam formam completivam.20

Not only Scotus, but all medievalists distinguished between a real entity, ens reale, and a cognitive entity, ens rationis. For medieval philosophers, there is much more room for univocity in the strictly cognitive dimension than there is in the actual or real dimension. In the real dimension, so Aristotle argues, every single human being is in reality an actual rational animal, and the genus, rational animal, is predicated of each human being in a univocal way. Such a predication is not simply mental. It is a real univocal predication. Actual human natures exist and they exist univocally as far as an understanding of “human” is concerned. These human natures are part of reality itself; the mind may designate the term (vox), rational animal, but the being of rational animal (ens) exists in reality prior to any denotation (vox). The mind by itself does not determine the possibility or non-possibility of actual univocity. On the other hand, the term, univocal, can be predicated with abandon in a strictly conceptual universe, the universe of entia rationis, in which there is no demand that the univocal predication in one’s mind has any connection to actuality or reality itself. In our minds, we are quite capable of thinking univocally about a plurality of things. As long as the predication remains merely mental and logical, there is no problem with such mental predications. For instance, one can think of an imaginary being, an ET, in a variety of ways. For one person, all ETs may have six eyes as a common characteristic. In other words, we can in our own minds, and only there, univocate terms, in this instance “having six eyes.” No matter which ET we might think of, we are able to predicate univocally six-eyedness to each and every one of them. Another person, however, may not agree with a six-eyed ET, and think that all ETs are three-eyed. That person can univocally predicate three eyedness to all of his or her mental concepts of ETs. Mentally, we can

20 Scotus Quaestiones super praedicamenta Aristotelis (St. Bonaventure, New York: The Franciscan Institute, 1999), edd. R. Andrews, G. Etzkorn, G. Gal, R. Green, T. Noone, and R. Wood., 310.


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and do univocalize with great abandon. Such mental univocalizations have no foundation in reality, and consequently there is an unlimited freedom for univocal predications. • Third-level–transcendentals: Scotus, in conjunction with Thomas Aquinas and Henry of Ghent, as well as with almost all other medieval scholars, moved beyond these two understanding of limited, finite, and conditioned univocal predications. In the Quaestiones super libros de Anima Aristotelis, Scotus refers to a third level or transcendental understanding of univocal. It is minor prima, et major secunda.21 The fundamental issue at this level is the following: are universal or more precisely stated transcendental realities univocal? The classic case of such transcendentals is that of being, ens and/or esse. Is being a univocal reality as far as the total ambit of particular beings is concerned? Is being transcendental? Beside the case of being, the common set of transcendentals, one, true, and good, also share in this issue of actual univocity. When the term being is used in the above-mentioned transcendental context, is the term being itself predicated univocally? On this issue, the field of discourse is not that of entia rationis, mental constructs. Rather, the field of discourse focuses on an actual being, ens reale. Scholars such as Alfarabi (870–950), Avicenna (980–1073), and Averroës (1126–1198) had already addressed the issue of univocal predication of actual beings, but the same issue re-emerged in the writings of the Christian medieval scholars from the twelfth to the fourteenth centuries. The issue involved becomes aggravated when the term being is applied not only to finite beings but also to God, the Supreme Being. For the medieval scholars, it is precisely at this conjunction of finite being and infinite being that the issues of univocity, analogy, and equivocity became acute.22 Kobusch begins his article with a reference to Aristotle’s Metaphysics IV, in which one finds Aristotle’s key phrase: “There is a science that

21 Scotus, Quaestiones super libros De Anima Aristotelis, ed. T. Noone et al. (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2006). 22 I am using the term being within the Aristotelian and scholastic framework. In contemporary philosophy, Heidegger’s understanding of Sein and Existenz do not correspond to Aristotle’s definitions of being and existence, much less to the Islamic and Christian medieval understandings of being. The same is true of Paul Tillich and his unique definition of existence.

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investigates being as being.”23 This section from the Metaphysics became the basis for the Christian medieval scholars who wrote on analogy, equivocity, and univocity, including Albert the Great, Bonaventure, Thomas Aquinas, Henry of Ghent, and Scotus.24 These medieval theologians, however, made major changes in regard to the transcendental or metaphysical level found in Aristotle’s Metaphysics. They asked the same question: is there a “science that investigates being as being?” The various answers to this question depended on what was included under the term being.25 For some scholars, God, as Supreme Being is not included in this classification of being. For other scholars, God, as Supreme Being, can be included in this transcendental predication of being. For the first group of scholars, predicating being to both finite beings and to the infinite Supreme Being, is at best a qualified predication. In their view, such a predication of being to both infinite and finite reality involves either analogy or equivocity vis-à-vis God. Since God is not being in the same way as finite beings are being, the term, being qua being, can be predicated of God only analogically or equivocally. For the second group of scholars (if there were or are any) the term, being qua being, can be predicated univocally of all being, namely, finite and infinite being alike. Too often, writers have indicated that Scotus predicates being qua being to both finite beings and to the Supreme Being in a univocal way. In his article, “L’Univocité dans les Quaestiones super libros de Anima,” Timothy Noone analyzes Scotus’ philosophical argumentation for univocity.26 Noone indicates clearly that the description of Scotus’ understanding of univocity as described above is simplistic. For Scotus, univocal predication of being at a transcendental level is far more nuanced than the inclusive predication just mentioned might indicate. As regards the Quaestiones super libros de Anima Aristotelis, Noone cautions one to avoid any simplistic description of Scotus’ theory on 23 Aristotle, Metaphysics, IV, c. 1, 1003–21. Eng. trans. by Richard McKeon, The Basic Works of Aristotle (New York: The Modern Library, 2001), q. 7, n. 11, 731. 24 See John F. Wippel, The Metaphysical Thought of Thomas Aquinas, (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2000), 11–22. Wippel presents in a detailed and clear way both the dependence and the non-dependence of Thomas on the Metaphysics of Aristotle. 25 José Antonio Merino, Historia de la Filosofía Franciscana (Madrid: Biblioteca Autores Christianos, 1993). In this volume Merino indicates that Scotus redefines metaphysics, 188. 26 Timothy Noone, “L’Univocité dans les Quaestiones super Libros de Anima,” DSP: 255–271.


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univocity. He writes: “Dans une certaine mesure, l’étant est univoque à Dieu et à la créature, mais en un sens que Scot n’explique pas.”27 At the transcendental level of predication, Thomas Aquinas and Henry of Ghent, for reasons based on their respective understanding of the subject of metaphysics and the subject of theology, reject univocity when it comes to finite and infinite being. As regards Thomas, Wippel states the case clearly: God’s relationship to esse is different from that of any creature, since he is his esse (act of being). This is true of no creature. Therefore esse cannot be said univocally of God and a creature and, as a consequence, neither can anything else that is predicated of the two; for the first of all of these is being (ens).28

The science of metaphysics has, as its central subject, the reality of being. However, when metaphysics considers both God and creature as its central subject, then the situation is altered. Aristotle was aware of this problem, alluding to it in his Metaphysics (c. 6, 16–33). In the Categories (c. 4), Aristotle had formulated ten categories of being. It seems that he may have implied that predications of these ten categories went beyond logic and applied to the reality of beings29 However, Aristotle focused strongly on being and on three transcendental characteristics of being: namely, one, true and good. Medieval Islamic and Christian scholars also refer to these three particular transcendentals when they discuss being.30

27

Ibid., 269. Wippel, The Metaphysical Thought of Thomas Aquinas, 564. See also Marion, op. cit., chapter 3, “The Crossing of Being,” (53–138). This is a key chapter in Marion’s book, in that he clarifies his approach to God “without being.” In Scotus and in Thomas there is a clear position that God’s being and created being are two different realities. Marion argues that Thomas used the term being since it is the first and most fundamental idea of the human intellect by which a human being understands anything at all. Thus, for epistemological reasons Thomas uses the term “being” in relationship to God. Scotus separates God from all other reality through his insistence on God’s infinity and freedom. The reality of God, for Scotus, differs infinitely from any reality that the human person can understand, and by adding absolute freedom to an infinite God, Scotus argues that the reality of God surpasses any ideation by a human person. In this way, Scotus is writing of a “Crossing of Being” or a “God without being.” Scotus’ argument redrafts the meaning of “onto” in the word “ontological.” 29 A lengthy analysis of the issue of Aristotle’s categories and their interpretation in the thirteenth century can be found in Pini, Categories and Logic in Duns Scotus: Introduction, 2–18; and the entire first chapter, 19–44. 30 See Salim Kemal, The Philosophical Poetics of Alfarabi, Avicenna and Averroës—The Aristotelian Reception (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003): “The Classical interrelation of 28

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In his Arab and Persian context, Avicenna had rejected the inclusion of God in metaphysics. On the other hand, Averroës in his Andalucian and Moroccan context had placed the study of God, the final cause of all creation, not in metaphysics but in a separate study called physics. One must take into account, however, that the understanding of physics in the twelfth century differs from the understanding of physics in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.31 In the heated discussion on this theme by the medieval Christian scholars, two major different but related philosophical issues began to emerge. On the one hand, there was an anthropological or epistemological question: is it possible for human beings to have any knowledge of God? On the other hand, there was a theological or theo-ontological question: is there in actual reality a being such as God? The first question focuses on the human ability to ask the question about the existence of God and, in some way, to ask a question about God’s nature. The second question asks about the actual validity of a God-reality. The two questions, though distinct, cannot be separated, and their dancing together formed the context of the medieval discussion on the very subject of metaphysics, which for the Christian scholars included ens supremum or God. The discussion on analogy, equivocity, and univocity cannot be settled if only the reality of God as infinite being is investigated. Nor can the discussion be settled if only the human capability of knowing anything about God as infinite being is investigated. This does not mean that the reality of God depends on whether a human being can or cannot know something about God. Rather, it simply means that we, as human beings, would be unable to discuss the reality of God, if our human minds and hearts were not intrinsically capable of reaching some love-knowledge of God.32 If our human minds and hearts are blocked at the pass, the question of God’s actuality is meaningless. Perhaps, Scotus more than Thomas Aquinas and Henry of Ghent wrestled with the problem of the human capacity to know something about God. Thomas and Henry

truth, goodness and beauty coincides with the conception of poetry found in Islamic thought” 169. 31 An interesting evaluation of the medieval Islamic scholars and their efforts to relate the divine and the human areas of being can be found Kemal, op. cit., “Poetry, rhetoric, and scripture,” 285–288. 32 I use the phrase “love-knowledge” since in the writings of Scotus, both the will and the intellect constitute the basis for the question of God. Thomas Aquinas focuses almost exclusively on the intellectual side of the question.


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indeed treated the issue of the human capability to know something about God, but Scotus seems to have turned this issue into one of his life-long passions. Scotus treats of this issue time and time again.33 At the transcendental level, is it possible to move philosophically by means of analogy, equivocity, or univocity in order to explain the relationship between finite and infinite being? Distinctions on the basis of analogy or equivocity generally lead to such positions as “similar to but not identical with,” or “alike but opposite at one and the same time.” As we saw above, Wippel states the position of Thomas very clearly: “God’s relationship to esse is different from that of any creature, since he is his esse (act of being).” The relationship of esse to God’s being is “different from” the way esse relates to human beings. Is “different from” simply a different mode of predication? Or is it based on an “analogical understanding” of esse itself? Is analogy in esse itself or only in its mode of predication? Such qualifications as “different from” but also “like” create mine fields for further explication, whether one follows Thomas and his use of analogy of being or Henry and his use of equivocity of being. How does one satisfactorily explain the phrases: “similar to but not identical with” and “alike but opposite”? Univocity has its own mine-field. If being is univocal both in the conceptual and actual predication for finite and infinite being, does this not lead to some sort of pantheism and/or panentheism? After the condemnations issued by Stephen Tempier, the bishop of Paris, in 1277, the pantheistic issue became a sensitive matter. Scotus was well aware of this state of affairs. Having considered these three levels of univocal predication, I want to focus more intently on the use of univocity in the writings of Scotus. Scotus himself perceived this brink of possible pantheism, and to clarify the issue, he elaborated on the problem in a very terse way: “Unless being implies one univocal intention, theology would simply perish.” The validity of his statement requires a carefully refined focus on the meaning of being, and I attempt to present such a carefully refined focus through my own phrase: the liminal univocity of isness. Such a phrase is without any doubt a neologism; Scotus never used it. However, I believe that it is a phrase that helps one understand more clearly what Scotus

33 See Scotus, Ordinatio, I d. 2, p. 1, q. 2, Vat. ed., v. 2: 174; I d. 3, p. 1, q, 2, Vat. ed., 3:40; and I d. 42, q. u., Vat. ed., 6: 343; De Primo Principio, Eng. trans. by Allan Wolter, A Treatise on God as First Principle (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1983), passim.

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was getting at. I will argue that only on the basis of a particular and very liminal dimension of being (which I designate as “isness”) can we say that univocity is absolutely necessary if we as human beings want to enter into a discussion about God, i.e., theology. Kobusch’s essay contains a sub-section entitled: “Ens—ein Transzendentaler oder Supertranszendentaler Begriff?” (“Being—a transcendental or a supertranscendental concept?”).34 In this section, Kobusch indicates that the literature on the theme as it pertains to Scotus is both abundant and intensive. After the death of Scotus, one finds a host of scholars who for centuries continued to discuss the scotistic understanding of the supertranscendentality of univocal being.35 Hopefully, my present discussion of liminal univocity of “isness” continues this centuries-long conversation on the supertranscendentality of being.36 When reading Friedrich Nietzche, the reader is really asked by Nietzche to look in the direction he himself is looking, that is, to look over his shoulder towards the things that Nietzche himself is seeing and not simply focus on the text that Nietzche is writing. He or she is asked to respond to Neitzche’s own prompting: “Do you see what I see?” I would suggest that we look over the shoulder of Scotus and hear the same question regarding univocity: “Do you see what I see?” For those of us who are not medieval but postmodern, the question could be stated: “Do you see the absolute need of something that medievally was called univocal?” The name, univocal or even being, is not the important factor.37 The important factor is the issue beneath the name univocal and being. Whatever one wishes to call it, there is an “x-factor” towards which Scotus is pointing. Do we see it? Or, don’t we?

34

Kobusch, op. cit., 354–361. Ibid., 354–359 mentions theologians such as William of Alnwick, William of Ockham, John de Bassiolis, J. Martini, Charles Scheibler, Claudius P. Frassen, B. Jansen, Sebastian Dupasquier, Carolus F. d’Abra de Raconis, A. Saxius, B. Mastrius, B. Bellutus, and Nicholas Bonetus. 36 See Kenan Osborne, “John Duns Scotus in the Postmodern, Scientific World,” The Franciscan Intellectual Tradition, (St. Bonaventure, New York: The Franciscan Institute, 2002), ed. Elise Saggau: 57–81. 37 There are many languages that do not have a precise word that corresponds to the western word being. A being-centered philosophy is fundamentally a western philosophy. Tagalog, Chinese, Korean and many other languages do not have a word for being. For translations, authors have selected one of the native expressions. These native expressions, however, neither connote nor denote in a precise way what western philosophy denotes and connotes by the term being. 35


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1. The Meaning of the Term: Univocal The term univocal means, as we have seen above, that a word or phrase has an identical meaning whenever it is used at least within a certain field of discourse. Most often, univocity is contrasted with analogy. Analogy means that there is a similarity of some sort between two items, but not a perfect identity. Univocity, in philosophical writings, has also been contrasted with equivocity, which is a term that has misleading connotations. A particular word or term is used in an equivocal way when is has two or several different meanings. Only the context clarifies which meaning is apropos. For instance, the English word, invaluable, is equivocal. Invaluable can mean something very positive, namely: some thing or some person has a high value, even a value which is so high that we cannot specify it quantitatively or qualitatively. The term, invaluable, also has a negative meaning, namely: non-valuable or of no value at all. Needless to say, the discussion on univocity, analogy, and equivocity has a lengthy history and an enormous variety of qualifications. At the time of Scotus, Henry of Ghent was a major proponent of nonunivocity theories. William Frank and Allan Wolter present Henry’s view as follows: If one looks long and hard at the abstract concept of (for example) “good,” the mind eventually discovers the twofold interpretation that can be given to it. Thus the seemingly simple concept, whether it be that of “good” or “being,” is really not simple at all in what it may mean. Each word has a twofold sense. . . . Henry regards the two meanings as diverse concepts—that is, they are both simple concepts, having nothing conceptually in common.38

Univocity, equivocity, and analogy can apply epistemologically to one’s conceptual processes. The three categories can also apply ontologically to the reality of things. Henry of Ghent’s approach was not simply epistemological but also ontological. For him, two given realities, not just two concepts, can be equivocal. Wippel takes up the theme of univocity, analogy, and equivocity as regards the position of Thomas Aquinas. He writes: After commenting that this kind of community (analogical) is intermediary between pure equivocation and univocity, he notes that in the case of

38 William F. Frank and Allan B. Wolter, eds. and Eng. trans., Duns Scotus, Metaphysician, (West Lafayette, Indiana: Purdue University Press, 1995), 142.

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chapter four names predicated analogically there is no single intelligible content (ratio), as is true of univocals; nor is the intelligible content totally diverse, as is true of the purely equivocal.39

Wippel goes on to state that it is “the ontological situation that provides the foundation for analogical predication.”40 Not only is a conceptual predication to be designated as analogous, but there is an ontological foundation that is itself analogous and that provides the basis to make any and every analogous predication. Thus, for Thomas, reality or being itself is foundationally analogous not univocal. In the following pages, univocal is understood in a transcendental, even super-transcendental way, and univocal thereby means a word or phrase that has only one direct meaning, and, whenever it is predicated of something, the predication is univocal, even if this happens in a supertranscendental way. Scotus himself states: Et ne fiat contentio de nomine univocationis, univocum conceptum dico, qui ita est unus quod eius unitas sufficit ad contradictionem, affirmando et negando ipsum de eodem.41

In order to prevent all arguments regarding the term univocal, I will use the term univocal in the following way: univocity refers either to a term (the epistemological usage) or to a reality (the ontological usage). This term is so at one with itself that its unity is sufficient to oppose any contradiction. One can affirm that either some concept or some reality is univocal with another concept or reality on the basis of identity. One can also affirm that two concepts or realities are not identical at all. The single word, univocal, by itself does not convey an active meaning. It conveys an active relational meaning only when there is univocal predication. Although predication is a mental activity, an intention or presentation can, as seen above, refer to both an ens rationis as well as to an ens reale. Scotus, in the above citation, refers to such an action when he speaks about “predicating affirmatively” and “predicating negatively” (affirmando et negando ipsum de eodem). Conceptually, univocity is a predication. Univocity is an action, whereby, intellectually, a certain concept is predicated in exactly the same way to two or more different objects.

39 40 41

Wippel, 569. Ibid., 568. Ordinatio. I, d. 3, q. 2, 26.


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But is univocal predication only a conceptual action? Is it not also a predicamental issue, that is, does it apply only to concepts or does it apply also to real objects? As far as being, is concerned, José Merino states this predicative quality as follows: La univocidad del concepto de ser, y de las nociones trascendentales, está vinculada lógicamenta a la afirmación de que el objeto propio del entendimiento es el ente en cuanto ente.42

Merino enumerates three classes of univocity in Scotus: physical or natural univocity “que implica identidad real e identidad de la especie propia de muchos seres singulares.” There is a metaphysical univocity, “que se funda en la unidad del género próximo de diferentes seres.” There is finally a logical univocity “que consiste únicamente en la unidad del concepto común a muchos seres.”43 In the following pages, I am not dealing with logic. Rather, I am dealing with reality itself and Scotus’ cautious use of the term univocal for actuality. Predication still applies in the entia realia, whenever our mind predicates two actual realities in a univocal way In a logical predication, both realities are mental. In a real predication, there is a mental aspect but the mental aspect has its foundation in a univocal reality. In a real predication, the mind does not univocate things; rather, reality univocates the things that the mind then considers as univocal. In the univocal predication of good and being to both God and creature, are the objects themselves different realities? The answer is affirmative, and, since the two realities involve God and creature, the difference is infinite. At times, authors pose the question as follows: is “being” univocal, or analogical, or equivocal? This is an unanswerable question, since there is no clear meaning of “being.” As an isolated and intellectualized term, being is none of the above. Only when the term “being” is predicated, can one say that the predication of being is univocal, analogical, or equivocal. I will argue that being is univocal 42 Merino, op. cit., 192. Merino’s use of the word “logically” causes some unclarity, since Scotus deals with logic in his Commentary on the Categories of Aristotle. In this commentary, Scotus clearly indicates that one is dealing only with mental concepts, not with reality itself. Scotus allies himself to a long-standing interpretation of Aristotle’s writings, namely, that the Categories focused on internal logic while the Metaphysics focused on reality itself. As we have noted above, Pini provides a lengthy account of the history of this interpretation and its application in the thirteenth century, especially in Scotus. Pini, Categories and Logic in Duns Scotus, 1–44. 43 Merino, Manual de Filsofía franciscana, (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 2004): 111–112.

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only when it is understood as the “liminal univocity of isness.” This phrase will be clarified in the following paragraphs. Univocal, analogical, and equivocal predications can involve realities, entia realia, other than that of isness. When one moves from epistemology to ontology, the phrases, a “univocal action,” an “analogous action,” or an “equivocal action” are no longer simply predications by the mind to something that itself is merely mental. Rather, the import of the actual predication of univocal, analogical, or equivocal to something ontological indicates that the ontological realities in themselves are already in se univocal, analogical, or equivocal. Therefore, univocity, analogy, and equivocity are already existent, prior to any mental predication. Mental predication, except for entia rationis, does not create univocity, analogy, or equivocity. For entes realia, mental predication is simply affirming the univocity, analogy, or equivocity which already exists. Given this, I argue that, at certain levels or dimensions and only at certain levels or dimensions, is the predication of being, whether as univocal, analogical, or equivocal predication, intelligible. One of these levels or dimensions is the polar dimension, since at the polar level a division or disjunction can exist. In his volume, Being and Time, Heidegger stresses a polar dimension that he calls “ontic :: ontological.”44 The ontic level is much more at the existential level of life, while the ontological level is at the existentiell level of life. The following paragraphs focus on being in its most profound ontological or existentiell level, not in its ontic and existential level. For the scholastics, the major polar case was the disjunction of finite beings and infinite being. Human life, as we experience it, remains totally within a limited or finite framework. Every aspect of human life is finite. Besides finite, other defining qualities must be added to this limited or finite framework: namely, contingent, unnecessary, temporal, spatial and relative. Although these other qualities are mentioned by the scholastic writers, they used the terms finite :: infinite in order to indicate an all-inclusive situation.45 Thus, an understanding of finite

44 Martin Heidegger, Being and Time (New York: Harper & Row, 1962), Eng. trans. by John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson, 274–278, 383–486. 45 See Allan Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 7–9. Wolter cites the conclusion of De Primo Principio in that Scotus prayerfully speaks at length of God. Wolter then adds: “In describing how we form concepts of God (Ord. I, d. 3, n. 58), Scotus points out that there are two ways in that we can speak of God. One is to enumerate all his perfections in the manner Scotus does above [at the end of De Primo Principio], the other is by using a simpler, but less perfect, concept (i.e., one that does


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includes the descriptives: contingent, unnecessary, temporal, spatial and relative. This inclusion leads to the radical contingency of all finite reality which will be addressed later in this chapter. At this moment of our discussion, I want to stress the finiteness in which human beings exist. We are radically finite, and thus even the question of something “infinite” goes far beyond our human capabilities. To speak in a facile way about the “infinite” is something that Scotus did not do. An example might help. I might know something about one individual grain of sand, but the single grain of sand cannot in any way indicate to me what the Sahara or Taklamakan deserts are in their vastness and depth. A single grain of sand does not by itself indicate an enormous desert. This example limps, but I want to indicate that it is easier for us to understand a finite reality, since all of our experiences, even the deepest, are about things finite. When we raise the question about something absolutely necessary, absolutely unlimited, something absolutely non-spatio-temporal and absolutely free, we have no comparative basis from our everyday finite life to render such an inifinite “x” meaningful. The polarities such as: here/there; now/then/ small/large are easily understandable. They are both ontic and ontological. They happen both at the surface and also at the depth of our finite being. On the other hand, polarities such as: life/death; contingent/ necessary; temporal/unending are not readily understandable. In the first series of polarities, we have some sort of knowledge about a here and a there, a now and a then, etc. In the second series of polarities, we have some sort of knowledge only about one of the polarities. We know something about life, but little to nothing about the meaning of death. We know something about contingency, but next to nothing about absolute necessity. We know something about time, but nothing about timelessness. In the polarity finite being :: infinite being, the issue of univocal, analogical, and equivocal predication becomes acute, since we know something about one of the polar issues, i.e., the finite polar issue, but very little about the other polar issue, i.e., the infinite polar issue. The terms themselves, non-contingency, absolute necessity, non-temporality, nonspatiality, non-relativity and infinite freedom, are basically negative

not spell out formally all it implies), namely, ‘infinite being,’ that virtually includes all of the above” 8 and 316.

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terms. To negate a quality such as contingency does not provide anything positive. Negation by itself offers us nothing positive. Thus, “infinite non-contingency” remains meaningless, and “infinite freedom” provides no anchorage whatsoever. In our third millennium context we realize that the universe itself exists within limited coordinates. Spacetime is perhaps its major coordinate. Scientists indicate to us that spacetime itself is not an absolute, unchanging, and static situation. Spacetime is continually in flux, and it is in flux because spacetime itself is contingent, non-necessary, nonabsolute, and finite. Temporality and a changing spatiality affect every part of our universe. Thus, human life takes place in an over-arching framework that is intrinsically relative. In the totality of human experience, there is nothing absolute. In the third millennium, the issue of relativity is yet another elephant in the middle of the parlor. In a major way, the introduction of the infinite with its clear connection to infinite being and God as esse ipsum creates a situation in which almost all the medieval scholars broke with Aristotelian thought. In reading the works of medieval scholars, we are not reading the “historical Aristotle.” We are reading a “re-interpreted Aristotle.” For Aristotle, God was not a major focus of his philosophical enterprise. The unmoved mover was never clearly defined by Aristotle, nor is the function of the unmoved mover clearly discernible in Aristotle’s writings.46 Not only did the majority of scholastic writers go beyond Aristotle by defining God as esse ipsum, they also went beyond Aristotle’s philosophy by making God the creator or first efficient cause of all finite beings. In this way, one could say that the scholastic authors “baptized” Aristotle. In their baptism they radically changed Aristotelian thought.47 Aristotle had proposed a durational infinity for finite beings. However, because of the creation account in Genesis, the Christian medieval scholastics, at times with reluctance, rejected durational infinity since it 46 See Pellegrin, op. cit., 44–45 and 47; R. W. Sharples, “Aristotelianism,” A Guide to Greek Thought: 302; and A. E. Taylor, Aristotle, (New York: Dover Publications, 1955), 57–60. 47 Thomas Aquinas makes causality central to his understanding of God and our human knowledge of God. God is the first cause, from whom all other realities derive. Aristotle totally rejected an understanding of the unmoved mover as either cause or creator of everything else. For Aristotle cause is a word that has meaning only in the non-God area. By making causality central to his entire Summa theologiae, Aquinas has reinterpreted Aristotle to fit into his needs. Other scholars of the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries also “baptized” Aristotle, thus changing the meaning of many basic Aristotelian concepts.


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was the teaching of the Church that God had created all things out of nothing. I mention this, since both the medieval Islamic and Christian scholars adopted a form of Aristotelianism which they had radically changed. The “historical Aristotle,” as Antonie Vos states, cannot be found in the writings of these scholars.48 These two fundamental changes—God as esse ipsum and God as creator—were made by the medieval scholars, both Islamic and Christian, on the basis of their faith, not on the basis of a syllogistic way of thinking. Let us consider in some detail the polarity: finite :: infinite. Unless some positive term is added to the adjectives finite and infinite, it is difficult to discern what the exact meaning of the polarity finite :: infinite might be. With only the phrase “finite/infinite,” one cannot help but ask: a finite what? An infinite what? By themselves both finite and infinite provide little information. The addition of a noun or gerund—finite being :: infinite being—makes the finite :: infinite a polar reality intelligible at least to some degree. Since infinite is basically a negative term, the problem is compounded. On the one hand, the term infinite infers something totally beyond human experience, and on the other hand it has only a negative connotation: non-finite. When the medieval scholars added the term being to the polarity: namely, finite being :: infinite being, a justified question arose: is being in this polarity understood in a univocal, analogical, or equivocal way? The same can be said of the transcendentals one, true, and good. Are these transcendentals to be understood in a univocal, analogical, or equivocal way when the polar term “finite :: infinite” describes them? E.g., finite good :: infinite good, etc. Scotus, as I will argue, does not center univocity on the transcendental polar areas of being, one, true, and good. For Scotus, univocal is basically valid only at a much deeper liminal level, and it is at the liminal level that Scotus requires univocity. I argue that it is at the liminal level alone that Scotus’ statement is verified. Item, nisi ens importaret unam intentionem univocam, simpliciter periret theologia.49

In other words, unless being at the liminal level of isness is univocal, any discussion of God or the infinite would simply perish.

48 Antonie Vos, The Philosophy of John Duns Scotus, (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2006) 4–6. 49 Scotus, Lectura, I, d. 3, p. 1, q. 1–2; Vat. ed., v. 16, 266–267.

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Merino notes that in univocal predication one moves above the polarity or disjunction of philosophy-theology. Merino characterizes Scotus’ univocity as onto-“teológica” or even better as onto-“theiológica”: . . . que vincula el ser contingente con el ser necesario. La metafísica no sólo es la coronación de la filosofía física, sino que es el ingreso en la teología o, tal vez mejor, theiología.50

Theiología is a term that Merino deliberately borrows from Jean Luc Marion’s Dieu sans l’être.51 Theiología signifies not only “God,” but also all things divine. One is no longer in the logical area in which Scotus allows for a wide use of univocity. Rather, Merino is restating in a more contemporary way what Scotus had written in the Lectura: unless being implies one univocal intention, theology would simply perish. For Merino, univocity in a theological context bridges all polarities. In other words, Merino seems to be saying in his own way that univocity is a liminal issue. Aristotle would not have viewed univocal being in this light, since a personal, creator God was not a core part of his philosophical enterprise. In a reconstructed and baptized Aristotelian framework, in which esse ipsum and creator are applied to God, the term theiologia is perhaps the correct word to use. The limenal level of all reality has its own distinctive polarity, namely, being :: absolute non-being, God is certainly not non-being. In this liminal and unique situation of being :: absolute non-being, God and creature can be considered together in a univocal way. All reality is not non-being. The liminal univocity of isness is both a reality claim and a mental claim, because the limen is beyond any polar division whatsoever. It is supertranscendental in a form that will be discussed below. Scotus’ efforts were meant to be a positive reconstruction of metaphysics, which had been seriously damaged by the official condemnation of metaphysics in 1277.52 Thomas O’Meara sums up the situation as follows:

50

Merino, op. cit., 190. Marion, op. cit., 63–69. Marion is basing himself on Heidegger’s writings, particularly Holzwege. 52 See Richard Cross, Duns Scotus on God (Hants, England: Ashgate, 2005), 4–6. 51


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Pope John XXI ordered Bishop Tempier of Paris to investigate the Aristotelianism of theologians, and on March 7, 1277 (curiously, the third anniversary of Aquinas’ death) he proscribed over 200 propositions and excommunicated all who taught them.53

Prior to 1277, some bishops had already begun to brand all theologians who used Aristotle as “Averroists.” In this classification, there was a none-too-subtle implication that these theologians were more Muslim than Christian. Tempier’s action was, indeed, a chilling moment. Scotus’ own studies in philosophy and theology took place in Oxford, Cambridge, and Paris from 1281 to 1298. By that time, some of the furor of the condemnations had subsided, but one finds a residual concern about this furor in Scotus’ own writings, particularly on the delicate issues of individuation, the reason for creation, and the active nature of the will. These were some of the specific issues in the 1277 condemnations that continued to affect theological study during the lifetime of Scotus. An even deeper concern, triggered by the condemnations, was the danger of a pantheistic interpretation of being. If the meaning of being included both God and creatures in the same way, then this position seemed to lead to a form of pantheism or panentheism. The condemnations of 1277 implied that any metaphysics based Aristotle and Averroës was a philosophy that contradicted a basic truth of the Christian faith, namely, monotheism. Merino contends that Scotus’ struggle to present the univocity of being was a deliberate attempt on his part to preserve the validity of both philosophy and metaphysics. The words of Merino are to the point: La univocidad fundamenta la metafísica y hace posible la filosofía y la teología.54

Scotus accomplished this defense by his position on a univocal dimension or level of being that has no polarity at all. I describe this fundamental dimension of being by the word liminal. Liminal-univocal being, however, is not a category of being nor is it the ground for being. It is not an Urgrund des Sein. Nor is it a fundamental ground for knowledge. If it were the ground of knowledge, liminal-univocal being would simply be the foundational “a-b-c” for all human knowing. However, in my approach liminal-univocal 53 54

Thomas O’Meara, Thomas Aquinas, Theologian, 157. Merino, op. cit., 194.

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being includes issues that one does not generally connect to conscious knowledge. This would include the pre-conscious, the sub-conscious, and the unconscious, as also the Vorverständnis, Vorhabe, Vorsicht and Vorgriff. For all of this knowledge—conscious, pre-conscious and sub-conscious—liminal univocal being is a foundation but it is neither a ground for knowledge nor a principle of knowledge. In itself, liminalunivocal being, in my presentation, is neither grounding nor causative of anything specific. Liminal-univocal being is not simply “one” type of being among others. If it were only one type of being alongside other forms of being, its designation would be essentialistic, namely there is an essence of being which has several different classifications. This kind of description is not what I have in mind. Liminal-univocal being exists beyond any and all polarity and yet it includes all reality. Univocal being is not, in this manner of thinking, a “foundation” for the grounding of all knowledge. The same hesitation holds true for those who would see liminal-univocal being as the foundation for actual being. In this interpretation, all actual beings would share in liminal-univocal being in some ontological form of causality.55 This manner of thinking is also an essentialistic approach to univocity and would clearly lead to some form of pantheism. Liminal-univocal being is not some “Ur-Sein” which grounds all other types of being. In the case of both knowledge and of reality, liminal-univocal being is neither an essentialistic nor causative being in which all beings share. Liminal-univocal being is not a form of being which can establish essentially a polar situation: either substance of accident. Nor is it a form of being which can establish other beings by way of cause: either efficient cause or formal cause. Aristotelian philosophy of being as well as scholastic Aristotelianism presents the categories of being, whether conceptual or real, in the form of polarity, with being acting as the

55 In Scotus, possible beings are not simply mental beings, even mental beings in the mind of God. Qua possible they have their own form of being. Wolter, Duns Scotus Metaphysician, expresses the situation as follows: “In shifting his premise to the mode of possibility Scotus makes an important philosophical move. Not only has he reestablished the demonstrative character of his quia demonstration; he has also brought out the ontological weight of the possibilities inherent in contingent realities. They belong to the essence of things; they are part of the quiddity of an entity. Such possibilities are not ‘merely logical,’ but have existential significance because they tell us something of the way the world has to be” 83.


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Urgrund of these polarities. Liminal-univocal being, which I can call Scotistic, cannot be understood by way of polarity. In fact, such an approach is a contradiction, for such an approach makes liminal-univocal being disjunctive or polar in itself: Ur-being :: all other beings. Such a polarity places liminal-univocal being, on one side, and all other beings on the other side. This hermeneutic of polarity does not express the impact of Scotus’ understanding of liminal-univocity. Polarity of any kind, in the scotistic view, does not and cannot occur at the level of liminal univocity. Nor is liminal-univocal being a first principle, from which all other beings emanate. The only polarity at the univocal and liminal level is the following, and it can only be considered as a quasi-polarity. liminal-univocal being :: absolute non-being. In this juxtaposition, it is immediately clear that there is no either-or. Polarity of this kind: liminal-univocal being :: absolute non-being, is non-polar, since absolute non-being is a negation of all polarity and even a negation of the possibility of polarity. Absolute non-being negates being and therefore negates polarity. The “to be” or the “not to be” is the major characteristic of this quasi-polarity. Such a quasi-polarity has no similarity whatsoever to other polarities such as “temporal :: eternal.” “To be or not to be” places our thinking and our being at the very limit (limen) of being itself. Because of this unique dimension of being at the liminal level of being, I suggest that we use the term isness instead of being. In doing so, I contrast liminal isness from all other usages of the term being but not in a polar way. This brings us to our second term: liminal. Let us consider the to be or not to be form of liminality in some detail. 2. The Meaning of the Term: Liminal “Liminal” is a much more common term than isness. Liminal refers to something at a boundary or limit. Something liminal is “on a threshold,” or “barely perceptible.” A liminal murmur and a liminal heartbeat describe something “barely perceptible.” Liminal knowledge of something is a knowledge that is thin, undetailed, and even shallow. Although the word, liminal, connotes both a spatial and temporal concreteness, it also connotes dimensionality. Something is liminal not simply because it is “on the edge” or “on the margin” (spatial), or “momentary” and “fleeting” (temporal). Liminal can also refer to a quality that pervades

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an entire entity. The artistic beauty of a painting can be seen as liminal, since the painting in all its dimensions is liminally artistic. No one detail by itself constitutes the artistry of a painting; the entire artistic attempt, that is, the entire artistic dimensionality of the painting indicates its high or low quality of art. In this sense of dimension, liminality is present throughout the painting. One brushstroke, one painted object, or one touch of painted light does not make the painting a work of art. Rather, in a thousand and one details the dimensionality of the painting makes it a work of art. The presence of light suffuses the paintings of El Greco in an awesome way. Light in El Greco’s paintings is liminally suffused throughout the canvas. The delicacy of lace in Fra Lippo Lippi’s paintings is also suffuse. A multi-faceted, suffuse, and dimensional liminality is what I mean in the phrase: liminal univocity of isness. It is a dimension that lies just at the surface of expression but not on the surface. It is also a dimension that suffuses both the depths and the margins of a reality. In and through all of this, it is a liminal dimension. Liminal dimensions seem to indicate a certain thinness, but it is a thinness that has tremendous value. This is true of Scotus’ univocal being. In one sense, it has a minimal degree of being. It is only on the very edge. It is only at the smallest heartbeat of life. It is only but not quite visible, audible, palpable, and perceptible. It is a breath, not a blast. It is a soft hum, not a shout. Merino describes this thinness in less poetic terms: El ser (unívoco) es un concepto absolutamente simple que expresa la entidad (entitas), realidad simplicísima, y es al mismo tiempo indeterminado y sin más cualificaciones.56

Robert Prentice in his volume, The Basic Quidditative Metaphysics of Duns Scotus as seen in his De Primo Principio, says the same thing, only perhaps more sharply: If then one can abstract from those modes, that represent intrinsic modes of intensity according to which the subjects have their being, then what is left is only being, without any mode attached. What is that which is left after such an abstractive process? It is the absolutely emptiest of all concepts, and has as its referent that [actuality] in everything that makes that thing a reality. It is so empty that if it had even one note less then it would be nothing at all.57

56

Merino, op. cit., 222. Robert P. Prentice, The Basic Quidditative Mataphysics of Duns Scotus as Seen in his De Primo Principio, (Rome: PAA-Edizione Antonianum, 1997) 24. 57


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On the one hand, univocal being (isness) is the emptiest, the most simple, the thinnest aspect or dimension of all being. If the simple note, “isness,” is removed one can only speak of absolute non-being. On the other hand, univocal being is in its very simplicity and emptiness unbelievably awesome. It is not non-being; it is being. As some philosophers have asked: why is there something and not nothing? Since there is something and not nothing, one can only stand in amazement. Boulnois, in his article, “Duns Scot, théoricien de l’analogie de l’être,” cites a passage from Scotus’ Quaestiones super libros metaphysicorum Aristotelis in which Scotus cites Aristotle’s well-known understanding of being.58 The opening sentence of Book IV of Aristotle’s Metaphysics reads: “There is a science that investigates being as being and the attributes that belong to this in virtue of its own nature.”59 For Scotus it is precisely this understanding of being qua being that is univocal. Having cited this passage from Scotus, Boulnois immediately adds the following. Je peux concevoir le premier concept sans le second et être certain de lui. ‘C’est pourquoi le premier concept semble être le concept de l’étant, et il est opposé à celui de néant (nihil). J’ai donc un concept premier que est certain, celui d’étant, mais je doute des concepts ultèrieurs: je sais que c’est un étant, mais je ne sais pas si c’est une substance ou un accident. Dans l’Ordinatio, cet argument deviendra le premier argument en faveur de l’univocité. Scot ne tire pas cette conclusion ici, mais les éléments sont là: pour penser l’univocité, il faut penser l’étant, non plus de manière ontique, à l’intérieur des catégories, mais de manière transcendantale,—comme non-nihil.60

Boulnois is clearly addressing the dimension of “being :: absolute nonbeing.” In this field of discourse on “being :: absolute non being,” metaphors of edge and limit as well as the terms seminal and inchoate do not do justice to liminal univocity. Perhaps the term, dimension, as used by Tillich, might be more helpful to understand liminal univocity. Tillich uses the term, dimension, in one of his most insightful articles: “Dimensionen, Schichten, und die Einheit des Seins.”61 Tillich notes that in geometry all dimensions meet at a central point, but there is no 58

Scotus, Questions on the Metaphysics of Aristotle, v. 1, 257. The English translation is taken from Richard McKeon, The Basic Works of Aristotle, 731. 60 Olivier Boulnois, “Duns Scot, Théoricien de l’analogie de l’être,” ME: 307. 61 Tillich, “Dimensionen, Schichten, und die Einheit des Seins,” Gessamelte Werke, v. 4 (Stuttgart: Evangelisches Verlagswerk, 1961), 118–129. This version was revised by Tillich when it was published in Neue Deutsche Heft, 71 (1961). Both are slightly 59

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conflict or opposition as they pass through this central point. The horizontal dimension is not stopped by the central point. It simply passes through it as though it were not there. The vertical dimension does the same. Additional dimensional lines could crisscross through that same central point, and none of them would have to stop either. The central point is open to an infinite number of crisscrossing dimensions. Univocity is similar to the central point. It is open to all dimensions in exactly (i.e., univocally) the same way. The central point, however, is not the cause for horizontality, verticality, etc. Nor is liminal-univocal isness the cause for polar being. This brings us to the third term: isness. 3. The Meaning of the Term: Isness “Isness” is a neologism that I have formulated. “Isness” is not a term found in medieval philosophy and theology. It is not even a respectable English term. Actually, I wish that Scotus himself had used it or its Latin equivalent (if there is one), but he did not. The reason for my use of this term is as follows: Scotus speaks of univocity primarily as a particular dimension of all being. The word, being, however, denotes and connotes everything, actual or potential, mental or real, past, present or future, finite or infinite, temporal or eternal, etc. The absolute opposite of being is absolute non-being. If there is something, it is being. If nothing is, there “is” only nothing. And nothing “is” nothing. In every discussion of negativity, we are, unfortunately, compelled to use a form of “is” language, but there is no “is” when it comes to absolute “nothing.” For example, a well-known axiom reads: ex nihilo nihil fit. The verb fit is a positive term, but nothing connotes negativity not positivity. How, then, can anything “come” from nothing? Semantically, we have to use forms of “is,” when we wish to speak about “nothing.” Often, this interplay of positive and negative is at the base of “equivocity.” I am asking the reader, at this juncture, simply to look over the shoulder of Scotus and try to see what Scotus sees, namely a univocal dimension of being. Similar (though by no means identical) searches have been made by scholars from cultures other than western culture. Scotus has described this univocal dimension. Lao Tzu has described it in another way. Huai Nan Tze described it in yet a different way. Buddha described it in still a very different manner. Is there some

different from the original English text that had appeared in Kenyon Alumni Bulletin, 17 (1959) under the title: “Dimensions, Levels and the Unity of Life.”


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vague semi-image to which all of these scholars are pointing, though in quite diverse ways? I mention these Asian writers, since in almost all Asian languages there is no word that corresponds to the western word “being.” The Asian authors are referring to something that we, in the West, might call univocal. But to translate Asian authors and use the term being for any of their respective words is an imposition on Asian linguistics. One cannot simply transfer Western words and concepts into a language that has no equivalents of such Western words. Asian nothingness is different from Western nothingness. The English term “way” does not correspond to the Asian term, Dao. For this reason, I suggest that we look over the shoulders of all these writers and try to see what they see and not be caught by the connotations and denotations of varying languages. The same situation applies to isness. Isness is a fabricated word which implies a state of reality (conceptual or actual) which has only one opposite, absolute nothingness. Isness is being. However, being qua being implies much more than “isness.” To begin with an attempt to establish something univocal does not mean that through isness we can establish an understanding of God. In other words, univocity at the liminal level of isness has nothing to do with the God-question. Rather, in Scotus the process to analyze the necessity of the liminal univocity of isness is a process aimed at finding a univocal base for even asking a question about any and all other beings, and the phrase, all other beings, includes the polarity of finite-infinite. To argue in this fashion goes far beyond Heidegger’s distinction between Sein and Dasein.62 In Heidegger, the polarity of Sein :: Dasein does not mean finite :: infinite. It is simply another polarity of finite being. Heidegger’s philosophy deliberately avoids terminology about an Infinite God. Of itself, liminal-univocal being moves neither in the direction of any specific finite being nor in the direction of the human mind’s ability to ask a question about an infinite being. Univocal isness cannot be understood essentialistically, that is, in terms of a required “x” so that finite and infinite being can be distinguished. Once again, univocal and liminal isness is not an ontological Urgrund on which and from which other issues can be deduced. Nor is Scotus univocal being an intellectual category under which all beings relate. Likewise, univocal and liminal isness is not an epistemological Urgrund on which or

62

Heidegger, Being and Time, 2–49, 67–90.

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from which all conceptualization emanates. As far as ontological and conceptual reality of any kind is concerned, liminal-univocal being is totally neutral. The liminal univocity of isness is neither a first cause nor a first principle nor is it God. This understanding of liminal and univocal isness allows us to diagram the transcendentals—being, one, true, and good—and the supertranscendentals being as follows. THE PHILOSOPHICAL TRANSCENDENTALS GOOD TRUE ONE BEING

opposite opposite opposite opposite

BAD FALSE MULTIPLE NON BEING

In this diagram, I indicate that transcendental being, one, true, and good are polar. Their polarity takes place, in scholastic thought, within an essentialistic framework. There is some thing that is good and there is some thing that is bad, and the two are related in a polar way. The same situation applies to the transcendental one and true. In the case of the transcendental being, the polar is non-being, but not absolute non-being. Rather, it is being this and not being that. Polarity of being, at the transcendental level, has to do with not-being this or that when compared to this or that. There are also liminal-univocal supertranscendentals of one, true, good, and being. However, being or isness at the liminal-univocal level is not the same as being at the polar or disjunctive level. At the supertranscendental level, the meaning of one, true, and good is totally different from the polar or disjunctive level. The supertranscendentals are diagrammed as follows: THE SUPERTRANSCENDENTALS GOOD TRUE ONE BEING


ABSOLUTE NON BEING ABSOLUTE NON BEING ABSOLUTE NON BEING ABSOLUTE NON BEING

For all of the supertranscendentals there is only one polar opposite: absolute non being. Of course, this is a pseudo-polarity, since absolute non-being is nothing. We have just mentioned that there is absolutely


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no “isness” in non-being, and thus the so-called polarity of the supertranscendentals is at best a fictional polarity, but by no means simply fictional. The polarity involves to be or not to be at all. Although the polarity is fictional because of its negativity, there is an absolutely crucial dimension involved in the supertranscendentals, for the negativity is absolute nothingness. The liminal transcendentals of being, one, true, and good, have a single opposite: absolute non-being. Again, a diagram might help. The following diagram, however, must be read from the bottom up, not the top down. This means that the second level, which is the level of polarity, is based on a first level which is the level of isness or non-polarity. The diagram also indicates that supertranscendental isness not only involves being but it involves three major transcendentals: one, true and good. THE TWO LEVELS OF BEING LEVEL TWO POLAR TRANSCENDENTALS GOOD TRUE

— opposite — — opposite —

ONE

— opposite —

FINITE BEING

— opposite —

^

BAD FALSE TWO or MANY INFINITE BEING

^

^

LEVEL ONE INFINITY LIMINAL UNIVOCAL GOOD LIMINAL UNIVOCAL TRUE LIMINAL UNIVOCAL ONE LIMINAL UNIVOCAL BEING INFINITY

INFINITY — — — —


— — — —

absolute non-being absolute non-being absolute non-being absolute non-being INFINITY

Diagrams are helpful, but they are not all-encompassing. Liminalunivocal being permeates all being, not simply at the base level but throughout the second level as well, since all beings, including God, have as their univocal opposite absolute non-being. The above diagram

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seems to indicate that one is built on the other. Rather, and this cannot be diagrammed, “level one” suffuses “level two.” Although they are co-existent, they are not separable. Wetness suffuses water, but water and wetness cannot be separated. Artistic beauty suffuses a painting, but the two cannot be separated. When a person begins to speak about finite being and finite existence, he or she is at the polar level, since finite is understandable only in relation to a certain limitedness on the one hand and a dimension above and beyond the limitedness in question on the other hand. A limit is like a wall. A wall marks off a certain limitation. The wall, however, not only marks off a certain limitation, it raises the issue whether there is something on the other side of the wall. One can ask the question: is there something on the other side of the wall and what is it? One can also ask the question as regards finite being: what is on the other side of the finis or limit? Is it also finite? Could it be infinite? The question can even be stated more sharply: is there any thing at all beyond the limit, the finis? Or is there only absolute nothingness? At the polarity level, we experience one and many, true and false, good and bad. We also experience being and non-being. However, at this second level, the negativity is not absolute not-being. Rather, in polarity, the negative aspect is a “not-this-kind-of-being.” For example, I am not there, for I am here. Something is not now, but it can occur later. Or even, I am not young but old; I am not healthy but sick; etc. Finiteness pushes us to ask about the other side of a specific limit ( finis), namely, the other side of the now, the later, the here, the there, the young, the old, the healthy, the sick, etc. Polarity is part and parcel of our ordinary way of living, being, experiencing, willing, and thinking. We not only ask (the epistemological dimension), we push our question about the possible existence an “x” on the other side of the finite wall (the ontological dimension). \ We will see that this ontological pushing involves Scotus’ view of both self-moving being and self-moving contingent causality. For Scotus, being is intrinsically self-moving; being is not static. One particular polarity that the medieval scholars focused on in a very intensive and extensive way is, as mentioned above, the polarity of finite-infinite. It is on the issue of infinity that the medievalists raised the question of something “totally other.” Philosophically, the core issue of the discussion focused on the issue of being, namely, finite being and infinite being. The core issue focused on the predication of being both to something finite and to something infinite. It is at this


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philosophical level of predication that one argues: Is the predication of being to both the finite and the infinite univocal? Or is it analogical? Or is it equivocal?63 A finite-infinite issue only arises within the polar or disjunctive field of discourse. However, because the idea of “infinite” surpasses every human intellect and will, the issue of something infinite remains only a question of possibility. We can indeed ask the question, can there be something infinite? Asking the question in no way implies that something infinite truly exists. Rather, asking the question only extends to the possibility of an existent infinite. Let us consider in detail what the term infinity involves. b. The Issue of Infinity The term, infinite, is an illusive term. The human mind and the human will are simply overawed by the very thought of infinite. The bridge between something finite and something infinite is itself infinite, which means it has no limits whatsoever. Can such a bridge even be crossed by the human mind and will? Allan Wolter carefully analyzes Scotus lengthy approach to an understanding of infinite. In his early writings, Scotus did not consider “infinite being” as an exceptional type of construct. It is in his Quaestiones Quodlibitales that he deepens his philosophical understanding of infinite. Scotus writes: Infinitum secundum Philosophum (3 Physic.) est cujus quantitatem accipientibus, id est, quantuncumque accipientibus, semper aliquid restat accipere; et ratio est, quia infinitum in quantitate (sicut loquitur Philosophus) non potest habere esse nisi in potentia, accipiendo semper alterum post alterum, et ideo quantumcumque accipiatur illud non est nisi finitum et quaedam pars totius infiniti potentialis, et ideo restat aliquid alterum ipsius infiniti accipiendum.64

Scotus carefully moves away from a quantitative approach to the infinite that by definition would be maximally perfect. Ex hoc possumus ens infinitum in entitate sic describere, quod ipsum est cui nihil entitatis deest, eo modo quo possible est illud haberi in aliquo

63

Although I use the word “predication,” I do not intend only an ens rationis. Rather, as noted above, there is an actual reality that allows us to know something and predicate being, one, true, and good to this something. 64 Quaestiones Quodlibitales (Paris: L. Vivès, 1985) q. 5, 2, pp. 198–199.

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chapter four uno; et hoc pro tanto additur, quia non potest in se realiter et formaliter per identitatem omnem entitatem habere.65

Scotus carefully disengages infinite from any descriptive understanding of being; nor does infinite accrue to the infinite entity extrinsically, and therefore it is not a property of being. Potest etiam describi per excessum ad quodcumque aliud ens finitum sic: Ens infinitum est quod excedit quodcumque ens finitum, non secundum aliquam determinatam proportionem, sed ultra omnem determinatam proportionem vel determinabilem.66

To illustrate this difficulty, let us once again use the example of a single grain of sand. From a single grain of sand, which is clearly limited, finite, and contingent, how can a human person dream of a seashore? Or how can a human person even realize an entire base of sand for all the oceans of the world? To go from one grain of sand to such quantities and qualities of sand is impossible. No single grain points in such directions. When we attempt to move from the finite to the infinite, there is no way that we can maintain intelligibility. The infinite is simply beyond human thinking. Humanly speaking, one can indeed speak about moving from finite to infinite. In speaking in such a way, a person is simply talking about his or her thoughts, entia rationis, and through imagination a person can fancify ad infinitum. When a human being, however, focuses on the actual world, a transition from finite to infinite is impossible. The human mind in itself has no ability to think “infinitely.” A human mind can only think “finitely.” The human mind thinks and the human will selects in a finite mode. People use the word, finis, as an ending word, a limiting word. The final page of some books ends with the term, finis. It is the final printed word of a book. There is also an end or finale of a track race, of an opera, or of a symphony. There is an end or finality in the educational system, a finale that we usually call “finals” and graduation. But all of these endings, finishings, or limits imply the possibility of “something” beyond the finis, the finish, and the ending. On the other hand, beyond everything finite, we can only ask: is there even the possibility of an “infinite?”

65 66

Ibid., 5, 4, p. 199. Ibid., 5, 4, pp. 199–200.


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Univocal being is a liminal being, but the limen or limit of univocal being is not at all the same as the limit beyond the finite-infinite question just posed. Univocal-liminal isness has a very distinct differentiation: namely, there is either univocal being or there is no being at all. There is either being (isness) or absolute nothingness. The edge between being and absolute-non-being is the liminal edge we considered above. Liminal-univocal isness has an application to any and every being: real or conceptual, creator or creature, cause or effect, more eminent or less eminent, and also finite and infinite. Wherever “isness” is, it is liminally univocal. Liminal-univocal isness, by its very nature, cannot be analogical or equivocal, polar or disjunctive. It can only be univocal. Inchoate isness at the edge of absolute non-being may seem almost worthless, since it connotes simply that it is not absolute-non-being. The negativity of isness is so deafening that its positivity might be considered trivial. Nonetheless, when one says: I am not absolute-non-being; I am, the positivity is thunderous. The level of univocal-liminal isness, including the transcendental forms of isness (one, true, and good), becomes for Scotus the only door through which a human intelligence can pass in order to raise an intelligible and credible question about any other type of being. Even if a person does not believe in God or any form of ultimacy or absolute transcendence, the same person can at least ask the question: is there some form of ultimacy or absolute transcendence? The very fact that an atheist denies that there is a God indicates that the atheist can at least ask the question about absolute ultimacy. He or she may deny such ultimacy; but he or she can raise the question of such ultimacy. Moreover, if one denies any ultimacy, a person can still find some sort of finite positive meaning for his or her existence. This is clearly the case in the writings of Albert Camus, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Friedrich Nietzsche. The answer may be a philosophy of the absurd, a philosophy of the common good, or a philosophy of nihilism. There is nothing in finiteness itself that demands that one must accept an infinite God or some infinite absolute. The mere question about the existence of God does not of itself demand an affirmative answer. The scholastics knew this. None of the great scholastic thinkers based their belief in God on a syllogistic propter quid argument. At best, they all used some form of a non-syllogistic propter quia argument. Isness, however, is not God nor is isness a first principle either for knowledge or for reality. An emphasis on the liminal univocity of isness indicates first of all that it is a sine qua non in the methodology, that a

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human person must utilize for an understanding of all being, including a credible and initial understanding of God, and even an ens rationis of God. This means that if God is not included in the liminal univocity of isness, then there is no way that a human being can even speak of God. However, univocal liminal being does not imply God. Scotus’ point in the Lectura cited above—“Unless being implies one univocal intention, theology would simply perish”—simply means that if one brings theology into the field of discourse—and this means bringing God into the field of discourse—then a univocal “x” is requisite. If there is no univocal “x,” then, as Scotus says, theology is dead. Without a univocal “x” any discourse on God is meaningless. Since finite beings think finitely, then all discourse on any subject is finite. To make Scotus’ position clear, some reflections on the analogy of being might be helpful at this juncture. Thomas Aquinas never developed a complete and self-contained exposition of his theory of analogy, as G. P. Klubertanz, Ralph McInerny, and John Wippel have clearly pointed out.67 Nor is Thomas the originator of analogous predication. Already Aristotle had made mention of analogy. Aristotle exemplified analogy by the term “healthy.” Healthy, Aristotle notes, is used analogously in its predication (1) to human beings, (2) to urine, and (3) to a medical potion. This Aristotelian example of a πρòς έν predication became the usual analogical example employed by philosophers from Aristotle to the present. The term, healthy, however is used in these cases in a horizontal framework, i.e., in the predication of a finite, contingent, and temporal “x” to another or other different finite, contingent, and temporal realities. In Aristotle’s example, the realities are human beings, urine, and medical potions. The common factor is “healthy.” There is both something similar and at the same time dissimilar when one calls a human being, urine, and a medical potion “healthy.” In this situation, healthy is unquestionably an analogous term that implies both a relation and a non-relation. If there is no obvious or real relation at all, then some philosophers have used the term, equivocal rather than analogical. The line separating analogy from equivocity is variable, since equivocity also includes some form of relationship (equi) and some form of dis-relationship. At the finite level of predication, there

67 Wippel, op. cit., 74; see G. P. Klubertanz, St. Thomas Aquinas on Analogy, (Chicago: Loyola Press, 1960), 3; Ralph McInerny, The Logic of Analogy: An Interpretation of St. Thomas, (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1961), 1.


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is by and large a general agreement among the medieval philosophers and theologians. In their analyses of reality, the two terms, analogy and equivocity play a major role.68 We have also noted above that at the finite level of predication, univocal terms are admitted by all the medieval theologians. The usual example is the definition of human nature: rational animal. At the finite level of predication, Scotus himself leaves open a wide berth for the application of analogy, equivocity, and univocity. At this level of discourse Scotus is by no means opposed to either analogy or equivocity. When one moves from a horizontal framework to a vertical framework, i.e., from a finite-to-finite framework to a finite-to-infinite framework, the predication of terms becomes far more complex and unclear. How can one predicate, even analogically, a descriptive word both to a creature and to God? Wippel argues that in an analogical predication, Thomas disallows any form of a “common core” that is applicable to God and to creature. After a lengthy and carefully considered analysis of Thomas’ approach, Wippel ends up stating his resultant conclusion as follows: The perfection in question [good, true, and being] is either participated or finite and ordered to its source, or it is unparticipated and infinite and subsistent in itself. There is no common tertium quid or absolute perfection in itself that might serve as a bridge between the two.69

As far as the creature is concerned, Wippel adds, each of the predicated terms—good, true, and being—“carries with it an awareness of its relationship of dependence upon its unparticipated source.”70 The dependent relationship of “good, true, and being” to its unparticipated source is why “good, true, and being” must be analogical.71 Thomas, according to Wippel, employs his basic category of causality to explain the reason why there can be and is a relationship between a finite good reality and the infinite good reality. God, the ultimate cause who is also the Supreme Good, allows us to “participate” in the good in virtue of causality (dependence). Whether Wippel’s presentation adequately explains the situation that Thomas struggled to clarify is not apodictic.

68 In certain texts, Scotus rejects analogy and maintains that there are only two possibilities: univocal or equivocal. See, Cross, Duns Scotus, 35. 69 Wippel, 572. 70 Wippel, 571. 71 Wippel, 571.

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Nonetheless, Wippel is providing us with his interpretation of Thomas’ argumentation. Given Wippel’s comprehension of Thomas’ writings, I would say that he is very close to what Thomas wished to conclude on this matter. Wippel, himself, realized how delicate the issue is when it comes to vertical predication, and he also realized that analogy in vertical predication is both a relationship and a non-relationship. The non-relationship aspect is the more simple; after all, God is the totally other. The relationship aspect is far more complicated. Wippel’s lengthy analysis and carefully worded conclusion is a testimony to the complicated factors involved in analogy at the vertical level. Whether he is totally correct or not, is not the issue. Wippel has certainly provided a high-quality analysis of Thomas on this delicate and complicated issue. Perhaps, Scotus might even agree with Wippel’s interpretation, for, at the vertical level, Scotus left generous room for analogy. However, Scotus would say that an analogous interpretation makes sense only on the basis of a primary and previous univocal predication: “Unless being implies one univocal intention, theology would simply perish.” By necessity, the vertical predication implicates one in a theological issue, since God is the ultimate terminus of the vertical predication. For Scotus as well as the majority of scholastic theologians, prior to any specific mention of God, the initial focus of vertical predication focused on the issue of infinity. The finite :: infinite question logically came first; only then did the question of creature :: God become meaningful. The actual insertion of God into the field of discourse rather than the simple use of the term infinite specifically moved the discussion from philosophy to theology. For Scotus, if there is any move at all into theology, then one needs a pre-such-move called univocal or in my terms, the acceptance of a liminal and univocal isness. However, and this is a major “however,” what is the meaning of infinity? First of all, infinity is a negative term: not finite. The philosophical polarity, finite-infinite, excluding durational infinity, is quite different from all other polarities.72 Scotus indicates that a durationally eternal universe is actually not infinite in the full sense of the term. To clarify this, Scotus turns to the metaphysical distinction between an essentially ordered series and an accidentally ordered series.73 The finite universe 72 Vos Jaczn, A. et al. John Duns Scotus. Contingency and Freedom. Lectura I d. 39, (Kluwer Academic Publishers, Dordrecht: 1994), 23–38. Vos uses the term contingent rather than finite, but all contingent beings are finite. Thus, Scotus’ radical contingency describes radical finiteness, and this applies then to the polarity of finite :: infinite. 73 Scotus, De Primo Principio, 3,12; text and Eng. trans. in Wolter, John Duns Scotus:


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might be without beginning and without any ending, but even then the universe remains radically finite. The entire series, though durationally infinite, remains a conglomeration of contingent entities, none of which can give an accounting for essential ordering. At each stage in the evolutionary process there are always limitations both for the microcosmic world and for the macrocosmic world. Infinity, however, implies a nonlimitation not only temporally but also in every other dimension of being. A durationally infinite universe is basically an infinite or unending number of finite things within an accidentally ordered series. However, Scotus argues, such an accidentally ordered series is meaningless, unless there is, beyond mere durationality, an essentially ordered series. Hawking, in some of his earlier writings, argued that in spacetime there is a beginning and an ending. The singularity that occasioned the “big bang” marks the beginning of our spacetime, and the singularity that results from the “big crunch” is the ending of our spacetime.74 Spacetime itself is finite; spacetime begins and ends in our universe. In a parent or sibling universe, an entirely different “spacetime” could exist, with essentially different coordinates and dimensions. Parent universes and sibling universes could be generated one after the other with durational infinity, for durational infinity by itself does not demand that there be any one thing in itself that is essentially infinite. Faced with even the possibility of a contingent order that is, at the same time, durationally infinite within an evolutionary series and that cannot account for itself on the basis of ex nihilo nihil fit, we are confronted by a more profound question. Is there a first principle or a first agent for this durationally infinite series of finite realities? Can this question even be answered? It cannot be answered, Scotus argues, if there is absolutely no relationship between all finite beings and an alleged infinite being. If there is no relationship which we can both understand, then a transcendental polarity of finite-infinite exists only in the mind. It can be a mental construct but it cannot be a reality. Consequently, if one maintains that the durationally infinite but finite universe has no need for any relationship to something outside of itself—here an alleged infinite being—then the finite universe is still

A Treatise on God as First Principle, 46–47. Wolter provides a clear analysis of Scotus’ approach to infinity in the commentary section of this volume, 228–254. 74 More recently, Hawking has been less sanguine about the big-bang theory. An analysis of contemporary physics can be found in John F. Haught, Christianity and Science: Toward a Theology of Nature (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2007), esp. 108–132 for a discussion of the Big Bang Theory.

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not a self-sufficient reality. The actual sum of all finite entities in our universe cannot be explained adequately by factors solely from within the finite evolutionary system itself. Scientists have indeed found a richness of systems and interactions both in the microcosmic dimension and in the macrocosmic dimension. Finite and limited though these may be in themselves, experts in physics, chemistry, thermodynamics, biology, engineering, etc. find these systems and processes explanatory of almost all changes in the finite world. At times, new systems have been discovered, such as the Newtonian system or quantum mechanics. Today, reputable scientists usually do not claim to have found or to have understood all such systems in our universe. To do so would contradict the openness of the universe as well as its randomness. In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, if one had accepted the durational infinity of the finite universe, then there would have been no need of a theory or doctrine of creation, at least in the way it had been explained in the Jewish, Muslim, and Christian traditions. In the view of religious leaders, a durational infinity of finite things negated the very historicity of the Genesis stories on creation. With durational infinity, so it was argued, there was no need for a supreme being. In the Christian, Jewish, and Islamic religions, God is a creator-God. However, a question remains open even today: can God be called a creator-God of something that has no beginning and no end? Likewise, if there is no final end or parousia to the universe, then religious thought regarding the end time, the parousia, or the rapture would also needed to be radically revised. Both Thomas and Scotus (along with many others) realized that durational infinity was philosophically and logically possible, but the weight of traditional church teaching led them to disassociate themselves from accepting durational infinity. Durational infinity, even philosophically, cannot be proven. Nonetheless, questions do arise regarding the actual world we experience. Why is there this particular systematized conglomeration of finite, contingent, and relational beings and not a different one?75 Scotus, perhaps, is again helpful for us today. For Scotus, nothing in this universe is necessary. Everything is contingent.76 Nothing is absolute. Everything is relative. Nothing is infinite. Everything is finite. Nothing

75 On the issue of possible and alternative universes, see Simo Knuuttila, “Duns Scous and the Foundations of Logical Modalities,” ME: 126–143. 76 See Vos Jaczn et al., John Duns Scotus: Contingency and Freedom, 27.


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is intrinsically eternal. Everything is intrinsically temporal. Even in a durationally unending universe, there is no necessary internal agent that can be considered the internal reason for an unending universe. An unending universe by itself is in its totality irrational, i.e., there is no intrinsic reason (ratio) why it even is. A universe without beginning and ending is, in its totality, simply unnecessary, since even a complete summation of unnecessary finite beings does not in itself imply a necessity of the whole. A totally contingent universe even in its totality of contingent beings cannot, as a totality, be non-contingent and therefore necessary. Specific systems within the microcosm or the macrocosm do have a relative necessity but only within the perimeters of the systems. Such systems “necessarily” act in some required fashion, but these systems themselves are also contingent as is evident in the adaptation of life forms to new eco-systems and the randomness found in both the microcosm and macrocosm. Werner Karl Heisenberg’s principle of indeterminacy rejects any final absolute scientific system. Contingent beings are changeable. Contingent systems formulated by physicists can and often do become antiquated, with the result that scientists seek out new aspects to upgrade or even cancel out older systems. Finitude implies in all its dimensions: contingency, non-necessity, relativity, temporality, and randomness. This is the major point of a coincidentia (a coming together, not a coincidence) of postmodern thinking and Scotistic philosophy. In both, radical contingency of all experienced reality is a given.77 If everything in the universe is contingent, unnecessary, temporal, and finite, and if there is no connection to an infinite, necessary, eternal being, then is not our universe indeed irrational in its totality? Several postmodern philosophers have accepted primal absurdity.78 In this scenario, the question, “Why is there a universe at all?” is rationally unanswerable. The universe is more aptly described as a theater of the absurd. In an absurd universe, even the question of God is absurd. Scotus, although allowing logically a durational infinity for the universe, does not concede that this infinite universe is without explanation.

77 The recent remarks concerning Scotus by Pope Benedict XVI in his lecture at Regensburg brought up this same point. It seems that Benedict XVI, however, does not fully comprehend the intricacy of Scotus’ position on relationship that differs from the meaning of the contemporary radical relativity that he rejects. 78 Albert Camus in his early writings is typical of this acceptance of absurdity and his novels, The Stranger and The Plague are, each in its own different way, major literary presentations of a philosophy of the absurd.

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Durational infinity is only one series of philosophically infinite structures. Scotus calls the other foundational philosophical structures “essential orders.” He writes: Ex istis ostenditur, propositum sic: Infinitas essentialiter ordinatorum est impossibilis; et infinitas accidentaliter ordinatorum est impossibilis nisi posito statu in essentialiter ordinatis; igitur omnino est impossibilis infinitas in essentialiter ordinatis. Si etiam negatur ordo essentialis, infinitas est impossibilis; igitur omnino est aliquod primum simpliciter effectivum.79

According to Scotus, essential order does not involve a univocal term. Order indicates a relation. If there is no ordering, there is no relation, and if there is no relation, there can be no ordering. “Scotus presuppose that any first agent is essentially uncaused.”80 An essential order is, as Wolter states, a disjunctive concept or construct, namely essential and/or non-essential.81 Essential order, then, is not part of liminal univocity of isness. It is a part of the polar level of being. The following diagram indicates the two main divisions of essential order in Scotus’ philosophy.

1. FIRST DIVISION OF ESSENTIAL ORDER a. Eminence b. Dependence 2. SECOND DIVISION OF ESSENTIAL ORDER a. Causation 1. Efficient 2. Final 3. Formal 4. Material b. Gradated Conditionality 1. Prius 2. Posterior

79 Scotus, De Primo Principio, 3: 12. Cross, Duns Scotus, 16–30, indicates the weaknesses in some of Scotus’ argumentation on the impossibility of an infinite, essentially ordered series. A fuller analysis of essential order can be found in Frank-Wolter, Duns Scotus, Metaphysician, 74–107. 80 Cross, Duns Scotus, 21. His entire second chapter analyzes Scotus’ argument for the existence of God on the basis of essential and accidental orders. Cross also indicates how Scotus unites essential order to the orders of eminence and causality. 81 Wolter, Duns Scotus, Metaphysician, 82–85.


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For Scotus there are two essential orders: the first division of essential order is that of the greater and the less, the more important and the less important, and the first and the second. This first-last or first-second is not causation; it is, rather, a qualitative differentiation. The first is qualitatively superior to the second, which is qualitatively inferior to the first. However, if the question is meant to include God as supreme eminence, then the difference—greater-lesser, more important-less important, of first quality or of a lower quality—can only be meaningful, if there is some point of comparison that is univocal to both the greater and the lesser, the more important and the less important, etc. No one can say God is greater than us, if one does not indicate why God and ourselves can even be compared. It is on the basis of univocal and liminal isness that any subsequent point of comparison, namely, greater or lesser, primary or secondary, etc., makes sense. The second division of essential order is causality, which derivatively includes prius and posterior, and in the scholastic world the four Aristotelian categories of cause. Scotus gives major attention to the categories of final and efficient causality with a primacy to final causality. We do not need to enter into a lengthy discussion of the essential orders in scotistic philosophy. The diagram simply outlines the structure that Scotus uses. Of major importance is his separation of causality from eminence. Thomas philosophically builds the framework of his entire theology on causality. All of his proofs for God are basically causal. Scotus moves in a different framework. Eminence, and not simply causality, is a major ontological factor that is at work in the reality of the world. We find this in Scotus’ De primo principio. Chapter three of De primo principio focuses on the triple primacy of the first principle: 1. The essential order of eminence; 2. The essential order of extrinsic final causality; 3. The essential order of extrinsic efficient causality. These three essential orders form the primacy of the first principle. At this juncture of the book, Scotus does not call the first principle, God. Rather, he is simply arguing that if there is a first principle at all, the supremacy or primacy does not rest only on causality but also on eminence, and as far as causality is concerned the supremacy or primacy rests on final cause as well as on efficient cause. Scotus is indeed describing a “being” that one can call a first principle. The qualifications, first

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or supreme, indicate, in this situation, that there is a firstness which has no before and a supremacy which has no greater eminence. In other words, one cannot go beyond the first or go above the supreme. These qualifications are fairly intelligible. The qualification, principle, is more complex. Why is something called a principle? A principle is a relational word just as first and supreme are relational words. If something is first, there is an implication that there is a second, third, etc. If something is supreme, there is an implication that there is something of a lesser good or a lesser value. If something is a principle, there is an implication that the principle engenders something that is exemplative of the principle, but not in a total or full way. What is first and what is second, third, etc., and what is supreme and what is of lesser value are both indicative and static. In a given order, there is something static: x is first, while y and z are second and third; or in a given order x is supreme, while y and z are of lesser value. The first and the supreme can be described as static, since they do not move out of their place of firstness and supremacy. On the other hand, a principle indicates an action of some sort. The principle accounts for or causes or brings about the principled exemplum. What is first may not cause the second and what is supreme may not cause the lesser value. In the relationship of the principle to the principled, however, there is an intrinsic dynamism. A key area of our understanding of isness and relationship, has to do with self-motion. There can be self-motion in the more eminent, and there can be self-motion in the less eminent. The self-motion in the less-eminent is not necessarily due to the causality of the more eminent. If causality is a factor (the second division), it occurs not necessarily because of eminence. For Scotus, Aristotle’s axiom, quidquid movetur ab alio movetur, does not indicate in any way that the mover is superior to the moved. Causation is only one essential order and it is not the only essential order. The import of this two-fold division of essential orders needs some clarification. To clarify matters, let us return to the issue around which the discussion originally developed: the issue of infinite. Durational infinity is simply a minor form of infinity. In religious language, the “infinite God” means a God that is more than just non-beginning and non-ending. Theologians have explained the infinity of God in a far richer way. One example of this richer use of the term, infinite when applied to God is found in the following passage from Wolter.


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An infinite being is that which exceeds any finite being whatsoever not in some limited degree but in a measure beyond what is defined or can be defined. . . . From this it follows that intensive infinity is not related to the being said to be infinite as a kind of attribute that accrues to it extrinsically. Neither should it be thought of as an attribute or property of being in the way good and true are. Indeed, intensive infinity expresses an intrinsic mode of that entity. It is so intrinsic that if we abstract from all its properties or quasi-properties, we have still not excluded infinity, but it remain integrally included in that one single entity itself.82

By itself, however, the term, infinite, signifies none of the above. The term, infinite, has no positive meaning. It is a term with a negative implication. The term simply means no limit. Further discussion on the meaning of infinite is needed. I offer the following. Let us compare the issue of infinite to an unending flat surface: Infinite ← ________________________________________ → Infinite

There is very little, if any, content to the “infinite,” when looked at in this bland way. While looking at this bland diagram of infinity, we realize that we have to ask a more pointed question, namely, can there be some infinite being? In raising this question, I have added something to the term infinite, namely: being. Without some addition to “infinite,” no answer to the meaning of infinite is possible. To understand infinite, one needs to focus on an infinite “what.” Consequently, we find in almost every theologian, Christian and non-Christian, whether ancient or contemporary, a focus on an infinite “what” These scholars place some “thing” on top of the flat surface of infinity to give infinity some meaning. I indicate this in the following diagram with the symbol: x. Infinite ← ____________________X____________________ → Infinite

This “x” is extremely important, since what one first places on the flat surface of infinity will determine in a major way the remainder of one’s total philosophy or theology. Theologically speaking, what one places on the flat service of infinity as the “x” will determine the kind of God one eventually describes. If one places “power” where the “x” is, then

82

Wolter, John Duns Scotus: A Treatise on God as First Principle, 343.

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power will dominate the way in that a given theologian will speak of an infinite God, i.e., God the all powerful. If one places “love” where the “x” is, then love will dominate the way in that a given theologian will speak of an infinite God, i.e., an infinitely loving God. Because of this “x” factor, infinity is only half of the equation. What is first placed on the infinity surface determines the second half of the equation. The eventual credibility or non-credibility of God, as far as a theological presentation of God is concerned, is determined by what a given theologian first places as his or her “x” qualification of the infinite. This issue is extremely important for an eventual theology of church. We must realize, nonetheless, that at this juncture we are already in a polar dimension, namely the dimension of finite-infinite. The infinity of liminal univocal isness is presupposed. Let us recall the diagram presented above, and then let us consider its value when we enter the theological world.

infinity

infinity LIMINAL UNIVOCAL GOOD ↑ LIMINAL UNIVOCAL TRUE ↑ LIMINAL UNIVOCAL ONE ↑ LIMINAL UNIVOCAL BEING

infinity

infinity

God shares in liminal, univocal isness. This sharing in liminal, univocal isness in no way depends on our sharing in liminal, univocal isness. Human beings could disappear and God would remain. If God were to disappear, nothing would remain. However, by using the term, God, the statement about God is a faith-statement not a philosophical statement. It is only true for those who believe in God. An atheist would simply deny the credibility of the God-issue. In the thirteenth century, the propter quia arguments for the existence of God were never presented as self-evident. These propter quia arguments only moved towards a first cause or a first principle. For Scotus, God is far more than simply a first cause or a first principle. Wolter’s


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description above presents a God who has meaning far beyond first causality and first principle. Efficient and final causality of all finite beings plays no role in liminal, univocal isness. Since liminal and univocal isness is intrinsically infinite, efficient and final causalities are rendered meaningless at the limininal univocity of isness. Since there is no polarity of supreme and lesser in value in liminal and univocal isness, eminence is likewise rendered meaningless. There is simply no polarity at all in liminal and univocal isness. Nor, as I have mentioned above on several occasions, is liminal and univocal isness a principle. In liminal and univocal isness, the opposite of isness is not God; the opposite of isness is absolute nonbeing. At the level of univocal being, being is simply “isness.” Nothing more; nothing less. In this dimension of being, causality is not the issue, eminence is not the issue, and being a principle is not the issue, for isness is univocally one-dimensional. The contemporary world-view is very different from a medieval world-view. Today, if all human life should disappear from this planet, the earth, the sun, and the moon could and would remain, and there would be both light and energy in the earth. If the sun itself, however, should disappear, human life would cease. The sun’s existence does not depend on human life; human life, however, does depend on the sun for its very existence. In today’s world human life is hardly the center of the universe, for the universe would continue its evolutionary journey, even if all human life disappeared. Our being or non-being as humans truly depends on the universe and especially on the sun; the universe’s being or non-being, however, does not depend on human existence. So also with univocal predication. Our human sharing in univocal being is not the rock on which the universe stands or falls. However, the universe’s sharing in univocal being is indeed a rock on which we depend. This is so, not because of univocal being itself, but because of secondary being such as bodily needs and psychic conditions (eminence and cause). On the other hand, liminal, univocal isness is not simply something inert. It provides an interrelationship of everything that has being. This aspect of interrelationality helps us today, for in science the interrelationality of all reality is a given. In some major postmodern philosophical thought, such as that of Alfred North Whitehead, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, and Martin Heidegger, the interrelationality of all reality is also a given. The world view of almost all Asians, Africans and Native American peoples is clearly interrelational. An essentialist

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and non-relational philosophy does not speak to the majority of the human race; a relational philosophy, however, speaks to this majority in a clear way. A philosophy that is based on isness and moves to a polar order of reality, particularly that of finite :: infinite polarity, indicates that all finite reality in our spacetime is limited, contingent, and not-necessary. All finite reality is also temporal and spatial in an ever-changing way. A radical contingency of all finite actuality is again accepted by a majority of the human race. It is not accepted by those who are centered on an essentialist form of philosophy. Radical contingency, as a consequence, challenges an ecclesiology based on immutable and necessary issues. Chapter seven of this volume will indicate how this radical contingency truly aids the credibility of church. Let us turn now to part three, “The issue of contingency and freedom.” However, part three on contingency is strongly connected to part four, “The issue of self-moving being.” c. The Issue of Contingency and Freedom From 1970 onward, a plethora of studies on modal logic, modal theories, and contingency have appeared that to some degree or another involved the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition. The authors of these studies are well-known and well-respected. Two authors in particular led the way, namely, Simo Knuuttila and Antonie Vos Jaczn. The first volume was Reforging the Great Chain of Being, edited by Knuuttila. Knuuttila also contributed a seminal article to the volume, entitled “Time and Modality in Scholasticism.”83 The second volume was written by Antonie Vos, Kennis en noodzakelijkheid.84 Knuuttila focused on modal theories, while Vos focused on contingency. Both authors grounded their material in the philosophical thought of Scotus. Other authors on related subjects include K. Jacobi, L. Alanen, Calvin Normore, and E. L. Ormsby.85

83 Simo Knuuttila, “Time and Modality in Scholasticism,” Reforging the Great Chain of Being: Studies in the history of modal theology (Dordrecht: Reidel, 1981): 163–257.) 84 A. Vos Jaczn, Kennis en noodzakelijkheid, Een kritische analyse van het absolute evidentialisme in wijsbegeerte en theologie (Kampen: 1981). 85 K. Jacobi, “Statements about Events. Modal and Tense Analysis in Mediaeval Logic,” Vivarium, 1983: 85–107; L. Alanen and S. Knuuttila, “The Foundations of Modality and Conceivability in Descartes and his Predecessors” in Knuuttila, S. ed. Modern Modalities (Dordrecht: Reidel, 1988) 1–69; Calvin Normore, “Future Contingents,” CHLMP, 358–381; E. L. Ormsby Theodicy in Islamic Thought: The


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In 1994, the volume, John Duns Scotus: Contingency and FreedomLectura I 39, was written by scholars of the Stichting Franciscaans Studiecentrum, that is connected to the Theological Faculty at the University of Utrecht.86 The authors of this work were Antonie Vos Jaczn, H. Veldhuis, A. H. Looman-Graaskamp, E. Dekker, and N. W. den Bok.87 Contingency and Freedom includes a lengthy introduction, followed by the Latin text of Lectura I, 39, with a concomitant English translation of the Latin text. To the Latin and English texts the authors provide an ongoing commentary on the material of the Lectura. The following pages recapitulate the main issues on contingency that Scotus in Lectura I, 39, had developed. I will use explanatory material from the authors mentioned above. In Lectura I, 39, Scotus’ central theme is God’s knowledge of contingent things. Five questions structure Article 39: 1. Whether God has determinate knowledge of things according to every aspect of their existence, as according to being in the future? 2. Whether God has infallible knowledge of things according to any aspect of their existence? 3. Whether God has immutable knowledge? 4. Whether God necessarily knows all mutability in things? 5. Whether the contingency of things is compatible with God’s knowledge? Clearly the main focus is on God’s knowledge, which is much more a theological issue than a philosophical issue. However, in the medieval world, contrary to the Enlightenment and modern philosophical thought both of which separate philosophy from theology, philosophy and theology were not strictly divided. They mutually involved each other. In this present chapter, which is centered on the philosophical point of departure, one might think that the theological issues involved in Lectura I, 39 are out of place. However, from the above wording of the five questions one can see that philosophical issues cannot be avoided.

Dispute over Al-Ghazali’s “Best of All Possible Worlds” (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1984). 86 Vos Jaczn, Contingency and Freedom, “Preface.” 87 Biographical details for all of the authors mentioned in this paragraph are included in Contingency and Freedom, footnote one, p. 1 and in the Bibliography on pp. 191–196.

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Such words and phrases include: determinate knowledge, infallible knowledge, and immutable knowledge, on the one hand, and existence, future, mutability and contingency on the other hand. In Aristotle’s Metaphysics, especially books seven to ten, and in chapter twelve of his On Interpretation, true knowledge is designated as necessary knowledge of necessary states of affairs. In these presentations of Aristotle, the epistemological side—necessary knowledge—is based on the ontological side, namely the necessary states of affairs. Scotus was influenced by Aristotle and this influence is evident the way in which Scotus crafts these five questions. The philosophical issues of contingency and necessity are paramount. Nonetheless, on the theme of contingency and necessity, Scotus’ approach differs radically from that of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas, both of whom allow for diachronic contingency but reject synchronic contingency. In the introductory and explanatory material found in Contingency and Freedom, the issues of contingency and freedom are expressed in the technical language of contemporary modal logic and involve detailed distinctions on both contingency and freedom. In my view, the work of these authors has given us a major insight into Scotus’ philosophical thought that resonates strongly with our globalized and relativized third millennium world. An intensive study of this material provides major clarifications not only of Scotus’ thought but also of his pertinence for the contemporary world. The authors of Contingency and Freedom express this pertinence as follows: Scotus’ theory of synchronic contingency can be regarded as the cornerstone of so called “possible worlds semantics,” that have recently been developed in modal logic. By “possible world” these semantics mean a maximal consistent set of possible states of affairs. Maximal, because every possible state of affairs is true or false in this world; consistent, because the states of affairs within one world are logically possible simultaneously, that is, they are logically “com-possible” and as such, they form a consistent world.88

Let us begin with Parmenides who taught that being is both immutable and necessary, while change and contingency are phenomena of sense deception.89 Aristotle accepted Parmenides’ equation of immutability and necessity, but he rejected his radical necessitarianism. In its place, Aristotle developed an alternative ontology that left room for both

88 89

Contingency and Freedom, p. 30. See Enrico Berti, “Parmenides,” A Guide to Greek Thought, 138–149.


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change and contingency on the one hand, and necessity and immutability on the other hand. In his essay, On Interpretation, Aristotle presents his axiom in a forthright way: Now that that is must needs be when it is, and that that is not must need not be when it is not.90

E. M. Edgill’s English translation of Aristotle’s passage is indeed correct, but it is also somewhat formal and even bookish. Aristotle states the following. When an object actually is, it is so necessarily. When something does not exist, there is no necessity that it must exist.

In other words, we are in two worlds: one the existent world and the second a possible world. If something actually is, then it cannot at the same time be and not be. Therefore, an existent being necessarily is. A potential actuality, however, does not necessarily have to be, and as long as it is only a potential actuality it has no necessity to be. Actual things can move from actual existence to possible existence or from actual being to possible being. Whenever things are actual, they are necessary. This necessity applies in a special way to finite substances. When a finite substance actually is, it cannot be said at one and the same time that it is and that it is not. An actual substance necessarily is as long as it actually is. A potential substance, however, is one that can either become actualized or not. In this sense, a potential substance is not necessary; rather, it is radically contingent. When the potential substance actually comes into existence, it is no longer contingent since it actually is. As actual, it is necessary. Both Jaako Hinitikka and Simo Knuuttila refer to this way of thinking as a “statistical theory of modality,” and they attribute this statistical theory of modality to Aristotle. According to the Aristotelian theory of time, temporally indexed propositions are necessary and thus an alternative state of affairs is impossible at the moment concerned. It there is no temporal indexation of a proposition, then it is not necessary either.91

90 Aristotle, On Interpretation, 9, 23. English trans. from McKeon, The Basic Works of Aristotle, 9:23, 48. 91 Contingency and Freedom, 131, citing J. Hintikka, Time and Necessity: Studies in Aristotle’s theory of modality (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1973), 93–113; and S. Knuuttila, “Modal Logic,” The Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy, 342–357.

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In the approach of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas, there is an evident diachronic contingency, that is a temporal flow from possibility to necessity and from necessity to possibility. For both scholars, however, there is no synchronic contingency. In their position, diachronic contingency occurs before and after a particular “x” necessarily is. However, while a particular “x” is, it cannot be described as contingent, non-existent, or only possible. Synchronically it exists necessarily and even immutably. An existent “x,” while it is, is not contingent. While it is, it is necessary. In the scotistic approach, even though a particular “x” exists, it exists only contingently. This is the kernel of Scotus’ reevaluation of Aristotle’s contingency. For Scotus, contingency is both diachronic and synchronic. All creatures, even when they are actually existing, are radically contingent. No creature has a necessary and immutable existence. The authors of Contingency and Freedom express this radical contingency as follows: When in Lectura I 30 the relations between God and creatures are discussed, the entire field is dominated by the problem of contingency. Scotus’ theory of relation is in itself incomprehensible without his new theory. The same must said for the specifically Scotian concepts of the formal objective distinction (‘distinctio formalis a parte rei’) and the individual essence. A sound theory of the individual is not possible until universality and necessity are disconnected.92

The reason why Scotus moved in this direction is not due to a philosophical study of created being. Rather, the fundamental reason lies in his theology of God. God, for Scotus as for all other Christians, is infinite. Even more, God is infinitely free. Therefore, no limit can be placed on God. For Scotus, the impossibility of limiting God is exponentially magnified when one acknowledges God’s absolute and infinite freedom. The triadic combination of God as infinite, absolute, and free exponentially requalifies the answers to the five previously-mentioned questions of Lectura I, 39. Ingham expresses Scotus position as follows: The singularity of Scotus’ vision really lies here, I believe. Against a philosophical perspective that emerged from the 13th century as typified by necessity of nature and universal eternal and abstract truths, Scotus elaborates an understanding of reality imbued with freedom, contingency,

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Vos Jaczn, Contingency and Freedom, 36.


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and attention to the particular. The basis for his emphasis on the superiority of theology over philosophy is precisely his preference for freedom over natural necessity as the foundation for a cosmic order.93

All medieval scholars were well aware of the imposing role that freedom and free will play in human life and in the divine life. The writings of Scotus continually urge the freedom of the human will, but in a much more overwhelming way he continually urges the absolute freedom of the divine will. Throughout the book Contingency and Freedom, the contingency part centers on our world and God’s knowledge of our world, while the freedom part centers strongly on God’s absolute and infinite free will. Michael Sylwanowicz has drawn up a brief overview of the midthirteenth century discussion regarding the superiority of intellect over will. In many ways, it was Thomas Aquinas who brought this particular issue to the foreground.94 In Aristotle and Augustine, one does not find a preferential option of one over the other; the intellect and will are simply coexistent. The studies of E. Stadter95 and A. San Cristobal Sebastian96 show us that by 1270 the main center of discussion was not focused on the superiority of either intellect or will. Rather, the focus was on a different question: whether the will moved by itself or was it moved ab alio. I will focus on this issue in part four of this chapter. The important issue for this present section is an understanding of the human will as contingently free and of the divine will as absolutely and infinitely free. One can express the key issue in a blunt way: how can a created “x” of any kind necessitate God? Scotus clearly states that no created “x” can necessitate God in any way, shape, or form. Thus, God, prior to an actual creative act, is absolutely free to create an “x” or not create an “x.” God has no obligation to create anything. Up to this point, no Christian would or should have problems. Creation, in Christian theology, is a pure gift of an absolutely free and infinite God.

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Ingham, op. cit., 198. Michael Sylwanowicz, Contingent Causality and the Foundations of Duns Scotus’ Metaphysics (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1996) 43–52. 95 E. Stadter, Psychologie und Metaphysik der Menschlichen Freiheit. Die Ideengeschichtliche Entwicklung zwischen Bonaventura und Duns Scotus, (Munich: F. Schöningh, 1971). 96 A. San Cristobal Sebastian, Controvérsias acerca de la voluntad desde 1270 a 1300: Estudio histórico doctrinal (Madrid: 1958). 94

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Let us move on and say that God actually and freely does create “x.” Does God’s creative action negate God’s ability to create or not create “x”? If one argues that an actually created “x” is or exists necessarily and immutably, then is God confronted with a necessity? The question is no longer whether a thing—an “x”—can be or not be simultaneously. The question is rather: does actualized creation restrict God’s freedom? Scotus rejects any such restriction from any and every created “x” vis-à-vis the infinite and absolute freedom of God. Thus, even while a particular “x” is, God’s free and infinite power has not changed. The particular existing “x” remains contingent synchronically as well as diachronically. Hence, for Scotus there is a radical contingency that characterizes all created realities. Neil Lewis expresses Scotus’ position as follows: Scotus is the first to emphasize a notion of so-called synchronic or counterfactual contingency according to which the contingency of x’s being φ at t is a matter not of x’s being able to change but rather of x’s being able at t not to be φ at t.97

Some implications immediately arise for contemporary theology. • Was the Incarnation of the Logos necessary? The answer is no. That the Logos would be united to a human nature and therefore to a contingent human nature is for God totally unnecessary. The Franciscan Intellectual Tradition has always insisted that sin was not the motive for the incarnation. The Franciscan Tradition has consistently taught that only God’s absolutely free and infinite love “moved” God to send his Son into our world and to send the Spirit into the world. The incarnation, or more accurately stated, the humility of the incarnation was and remains a gift of a generous God. God could have dealt with the issue of sin in many other ways beyond the incarnation of the Logos in the humanity of Jesus. • Was the institution of the church necessary? The answer is again no. A recent volume on ecclesiology was named: The Gift of the Church.98 This title indicates that the Church is not something that had to exist; rather it was and remains a gifting from

97 Neil Lewis, “Power and Contingency in Robert Grosseteste and Duns Scotus,” ME, 205. See also Ingham, Scotus for Dunces, 39–49. 98 Peter Phan, ed., The Gift of the Church.


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God. This same conclusion is expressed officially in the first chapter of Lumen gentium. The bishops clearly state that the Incarnate Word is the light of the world, and that the Church at its core is meant to be a reflection of the mystery of the Incarnation. Only when the Church reflects the gift of Jesus is the Church a “Gift of the Church.” The incarnation of the Logos is a free gifting of God. So, too, the calling together of a “people of God” is a free gifting of God. Both giftings are sychronically and diachronically unnecessary. They are synchronically and diachronically contingent gifts of God’s free grace. • Are the sacraments necessary? The answer is once more no. The Franciscan Intellectual Tradition has conistently rejected any form of instrumental efficient causality, since creatures in no way cause God to do anything. Alexander of Hales wrote: Tamen dependentia verbi creati non est a potestate sacerdotali; posset enim Verbum increatum convertere (in Eucharistia) sine coniunctione tali; sed noluit, quia homines participes fecit, ut officium eius implerent.99

The priesthood itself is grace; the actions and words of a priest are not necessary for the eucharistic real presence. They are part of the eucharist simply because God willed such participation. Such a list could go on, and it is able to go on because of the infinite and absolute freedom of God. Since there is an infinitely free God, there is always an infinite list of choices. No creature can necessitate the freedom of God. These implications may startle some readers. They may even appear ill-directed. However, one needs to ask: why is one uneasy with the above issues? The answer at times has been direct: namely, that the church and the sacraments are necessary is a doctrine of the Roman Catholic Church. They are necessary for salvation. That the incarnation had to take place is a theme that one finds even in the liturgy and hymnology of most Christian Churches. During the vigil of Easter, the canticle states: “Oh happy fault that merited for us such a treasure!” The theological understanding of salvation that one finds in Anselm of Canterbury and reiterated in Thomas Aquinas has become commonly accepted in

99 Alexander of Hales, Quaestiones Disputatae “Antequam esset frater,” (Quaracchi: Collegium S. Bonaventurae, 1960), v. 2, L I, membrum 7, 62.

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most Christian Churches. Anselm taught that the justice and holiness of God required that an infinite offense against God be repaid before God could offer salvation to human sinners. The standard, dominant and operative ecclesiology of the Roman Catholic Church has stressed these and other necessary aspects of the Church.100 My reason for focusing on these necessary theological and church issues in this chapter on philosophy can be stated as follows. The principle that undergirds the necessity of these teachings is philosophical and not theological. In many ways, Aristotle’s axiom—“Whatever actually is, necessarily is”—undergirds the necessity aspect of the above mentioned issues. Since the church “has been instituted by Christ,” it necessarily is. Since the sacraments “have been instituted by Christ,” they are also necessary. Since the incarnation took place for our salvation, the incarnation is also necessary. In other words, philosophical positions have determined the way in which one considers such issues from a theological standpoint. In this scenario, philosophy, not God’s will, actually determines what is and what is not necessary. One might respond to this way of thinking by stating: “God himself has revealed all of these institutions, and since they are revealed by God they are necessary.” However, it is precisely in the context of God knowing and willing contingent possibilities that Scotus brings up the very issues that today one finds in modal logic and synchronic contingency. The action of God is at the center of Scotus’ discussion and this central action of God includes God’s revelation and contingent realities. If one insists that it is God’s revelation alone that provisions these instances with their necessary qualification, then God is able to reveal whatever God wants but once God has revealed something it becomes necessary. Such a conclusion, however, is based on philosophy and not on the absolute and infinite freedom of God. To posit a necessity in creation of any kind at all, philosophically restricts the freedom of God and is therefore unacceptable theology. Scotus is clearly wrestling with God’s absolute and infinite freedom on the one hand and God’s knowledge of and even the creation of possible contingencies. When one bases the necessity of incarnation, church, and sacraments on divine revelation, one has opened the door to the issue that centers not only Scotus’ theological position but that 100

Cf. my presentation on salvation in chapter six.


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of most theologians from 1270 onward. The relationship of God and contingent possibles was the issue from 1270 onward. Either a deliberately selected and openly declared philosophical form permeates a given ecclesiology, or a non-reflected but still quietly present philosophical form shapes the ecclesiological discussion. In the above instances we can see how an Aristotelian-based philosophy has controlled the ways in which certain Christians have spoken theologically and even doctrinally. For many Catholics, the church claims an immutability for certain positions. The church itself has been presented as necessary for salvation. What I am asking at this moment of time is simply the following. Whenever one hears the term immutable or necessary, one should also consider the infinite and absolute freedom of God. If there is something immutable or necessary in our created world, the reason for such quasiimmutability and quasi-necessity cannot in any way abridge the infinite and absolute freedom of God. In other words, we can call something immutable or necessary on one condition only: namely, God has freely promised that this “something” will not be changed. To turn God’s gifting into ontological necessity of any kind destroys its giftedness. The mystery of the Church, as the opening chapter of Lumen gentium indicates, is its gift from God to be a reflection of the true light of the world, Jesus. The church is a sacrament of Jesus, and Jesus, in his humanity is a sacrament of God. An ecclesiology based on this understanding of the mystery of the Church can only be a relational and contingent ecclesiology, since its core is to reflect Jesus and God, not to reflect itself. Indeed, the church by itself has no light whatsoever. Its light is its giftedness. d. The Issue of Self-moving Being In the writings of Scotus, self-motion is an intrinsic feature of being. Such a description of being indicates yet another major philosophical difference in the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition, not only from the Dominican Intellectual Tradition but also from the Augustinian Intellectual Tradition. As self-motion, being is energy, and self-motion is the principle of its own action. Scotus writes: Sequitur quod in genere non repugnat acliui substantiae causare in se qualitatatem, quantitatem et ubi. Concurrentibus autem duabus condicionibus

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chapter four supra dictis, causabit; et hoc vel coaevum sibi, et ita sine mutatione, vel non coaevum sibi, et ita per motum vel mutationem.101

In this passage, Scotus considers the gift of free will in a very dynamic way. He argues that our human free will cannot be called free if we ourselves are not self-sufficient agents of choice. Sylwanowicz describes the position of Scotus in the following ways: Our exploration of Scotus’ idea of contingent causality has directed our attention to the importance of self motion as an intrinsic feature of all essence. This brings us to the very foundation of Scotus’ metaphysics. Activity is an intrinsic perfection of essence—activity seen as an instantaneous process, not involving an Aristotelian change.102

For Scotus, then, essence is intrinsically an activity.103 In his De Aeternitate mundi, Thomas Aquinas speaks in a completely different way: “Prius naturaliter est sibi nihilum quam esse”.104 In Thomas’ view finite being is basically passive; in Scotus’ view finite being as well as infinite being are basically self-moving and therefore basically active. In the history of scotism, this issue has been debated again and again. We find it in the works of Thomas Bradwardine, who argued the issue quite differently than Scotus does.105 Sylwanowicz, in his conclusion, draws together the issues Scotus presents at least in nuce as well as the arguments against Scotus’ view by a number of scholars, such as Thomas, Mayronis, Henry of Ghent, and Suarez.106 Essence itself is its own immediate cause for contingent causality. Scotus’ development on this issue is seen in his view of free will. If there is free will, then there must be self-motion. In the final analysis, the intellect does not determine what the will selects or should select.107 The will is free and therefore self-moving.108

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Scotus, Quaestiones super Libros Metaphysicorum Aristotelis, v. 2, IX, q. 14, n. 7. 572; Eng. trans. by Girard Etzkorn and Allan Wolter. 102 Sylwanowicz, 103. 103 Ibid., 104. 104 Thomas Aquinas, De Aeternitate mundi, 7. Opuscula philosophica, ed. Perner, 58. 105 Thomas Bradwardine, De Causa Dei, (Frankfurt am Main: Minerva, 1964). 106 Sylwanowicz, 241–259. 107 See the analysis by Ingham, op. cit., 205–210. 108 See Alan B. Wolter, “Duns Scotus on the Will as Rational Potency,” The Philosophical Theology of John Duns Scotus, ed. Marilyn McCord Adams (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1960) 163–180; also Wolter, “Reflections about Scotus’s Early Works,” ME, 37–57.


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In the scientific and technological world of today, being is energy. Something may be matter, but it is matter-energy. In the inorganic world, the power of energy in a neutrino that is almost mass-less is enormous. In the organic world, the power of the human will is at times sheer power. Being is energy, power, and self-activation. Being is not static, passive, and inactive. It is of interest that contemporary particle physicists at Brookhaven National Laboratory are attempting to reproduce the conditions that existed microseconds after the Big Bang, some fourteen billion years ago. They are especially interested in the quark-gluon plasma existing 0.000001 seconds after the Big Bang. At 0.000001 seconds after the Big Bang quark-gluon plasma had formed into protons and neutrons. The scientists even consider the possibility that quark-gluon plasma might today still be pent up within dense cores of neuron stars. In this scientific study, self-motion is not “added” to the initial “beings.” Self-motion is an intrinsic part of initial being. Certainly, Scotus was not aware of contemporary technology and science. On the other hand, his philosophical understanding of “being” does have connections to the contemporary, postmodern understanding of “being.” Initial being is self-activating of and by itself.109 Can we transfer this line of thought to univocity? I think one can do so. Univocal liminal isness is self-moving. It moves against absolute-non-being. It negates isolates and rejects the power of absolute-non-being, which “is” a power that is sucking an object into a vacuum, into nihilism, and into non-being. Liminal and univocal isness, however, does not “want” to become non-being. It resists the pull of non-being. In this resistance, there is certainly a self-action against negativity, but this is only part of the self-moving action of univocal, liminal isness. Isness is also a power “to be.” Not only is the self-action a power against negating nothingness; it is an energy for positivity. But “to be” for what form of positivity? The scotistic answer is clear: to be anything and everything. This is the “push” in liminal and univocal isness that I mentioned above. The uncountable forms of finite being have meaning because of this univocal, liminal isness and its positive self-action. No one finite form 109 In chapter three, we will see that Bonaventure makes the Dionysian phrase: bonum est sui diffusivum central to his teaching on the trinitarian God. Bonum est sui diffusivum is conjoined with Ens Supremum (God). In Bonaventure’s view, divine being is self-moving (sui diffusivum). Bonaventure, in a way different from Scotus, provides a major change in the Aristotelian understanding of being, and thus, if one uses Marion’s language, both indicate a “God Without Being,” with “being” understood here as Aristotelian being.

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of being drains the power of isness, for more finite forms of being continue to arise and existing finite forms push against non being and push for positivity. In no way does this mean, however, that univocal and liminal isness is either a principle or a first cause. The push is not directed to any specific principled reality or caused effect. Nor is it a “being” beyond the being of God and all created beings. Rather, it is a dimension of all being against negativity and pro positivity. With the various suns in our universe, there seems to be an unending source of energy, for the suns continually emit an energy that is in itself powerful and is in itself productive. On our earth, photosynthesis produces new life, while sustaining old life. Photosynthesis produces new inert beings, while maintaining old inert beings. Univocal-liminal isness is like a sun, transmitting by self-action energy, power, and productivity. Transmitted energy energizes new things that were not found in the source of energy. Why can this be? Because the transmitted energy itself is self-moving. Nonetheless, this metaphor regarding the solar system has definite limits, since liminal and univocal isness is neither a first principle nor a first cause. In this power flow of being, Scotus parts company with Aristotle. The Aristotelian axiom: “whatever is moved, is moved by another,” is totally rejected. Potency is not passive as it is in Aristotle. Form is not the only source of power as it is in Aristotle. Prime matter is primal energy, not primal passivity. In the infinite self-activating push of isness (liminal univocal isness) a plethora of beings have arisen, are arising, and will continue to arise. This plethora of finite beings, to which we ourselves as human beings are an interrelated part, is the dimension of polar being. A “this” is a “this” and not a “that.” You are you; I am not you. A meson is a meson; an electron is an electron. Electromagnetism is not gravity, and gravity is not electromagnetism. Neither gravity nor electromagnetism are thermo-nuclear dynamics, although all are interrelated. We humans experience these polar distinctions, for polarity is the dimension in that we live. Sometimes these polar distinctions are simply in our minds as hypotheses. Sometimes these polar distinctions are in the reality of the universe in which we live as actualities. Polarity is the world in which we live and move and have our being. Polarity is the expression of energy and power. In this description, it is difficult to avoid a two-level way of thinking, but two levels are not what I wish to emphasize. There is not a first level—univocal, liminal isness—from which a second level—polarity—arises. Even the image of dimensions tends to bifurcate the issue


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into a dimension of univocal, liminal isness which is self-moving and a dimension of polarity which is also self-moving. Above I attempted to describe univocal, liminal isness through the word “suffuse.” Artistry is suffused throughout the painting; artistry is suffused throughout the actual vivid playing of a symphony that makes us sit up on the edge of our seats; and artistry is suffused throughout the aria that the diva brings to life. Univocal, liminal isness is an all-present active verb, not an all-present passive noun. It is a verbal self-moving, not an inert noun. Transcendental, univocal, liminal oneness is a self-moving oneness; it is a verb with unifying-self-movement. It is not a noun. Transcendental, univocal, liminal trueness is similarly a verb with a positivizing-selfmovement. Transcendental, univocal, liminal goodness is equally a verb, with a good-spreading action. Bonaventure’s centrality of bonum est sui diffusivum (the good is self-diffusive) corresponds to this transcendental approach to goodness. In the dimension of univocal transcendentality there is no specification to this particular unity, to this particular positivity, or to this particular good. To say these transcendentals are “infinite” is not a satisfying way to speak, since “infinite” implies a “finite” and this removes us from the super-transcendental level and places us in the polar dimension of transcendentals. Only from a dimension of finite polarity, does the question: is there something without a limit, that is, something infinite? become hermeneutically valid. However, the question itself, “Is there an infinite being?” is not a question asking about God. It is merely a question asking about a reality on the other side of the limen called finitude. The self-moving push in all finite entities activates us to ask about the other side of the finite limen. In many ways, simply asking the question is as far as philosophy can take us. There might be a foundational and first cause or an eminent first principle, such as Whitehead suggests. But God is far more than a “first cause” or a “first principle.” The mere positing of a first cause or first principle is far from a positing that God exists. For Bonaventure and Scotus, as well as for most of the leaders in the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition, God cannot be limited by such terms as first cause or first principle. These bespeak only a small aspect of what the reality of God is all about. Nonetheless, for the medieval philosophers, the very raising of the question “Is there an infinite being?” was a major step, but it was a step into mine-fields. From their faith, they believed that God alone was without limit. By even asking this question about an infinite being, have these scholars taken a philosophical step into theology? The answer is

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both yes and no, and the various answers came to be the debate over polar being, especially over being in its polarity of finite :: infinite. In the vision of Scotus, it is only at this step into polarity that we can begin to speak meaningfully about univocal, analogical, or equivocal being. To do this, however, we must first place ourselves as best we can in supertranscendental, liminal, and univocal isness. The argument for any resolution on the meaning of univocal—OR—analogical—OR— equivocal is viable only in the polar or disjunctive dimensions of being. Scotus honors the arguments for and against the OR-OR-OR, but only when the field of discourse takes place at the disjunctive level. For in his own words, which I have cited again and again throughout this chapter: unless being implies one univocal intention, theology would simply perish. Only if there is one univocal dimension is the question of the analogous, equivocal or univocal difference between finite being and infinite being meaningful. As I have argued, this one univocal intentio is supertranscendental, liminal, and univocal isness. There are certainly other key issues in the philosophical work of Scotus that could also be part of this chapter. I have in mind his probing into the meaning of individualized natures, Haecceitas. I have in mind the ethical dimension, at least in its philosophical foundations, that might also have been part of the chapter. To this list we could add his understanding of physics and his political theories. All of these have also influenced my own way of thinking. However, the above issues are more constitutive of a philosophical starting point for a journey that leads to a theological understanding of church. Let us now summarize what this present chapter has tried to accomplish and what implications for ecclesiology that the material presents.

3. Conclusions We have reached the end of the philosophical starting point, a chapter that deals with philosophical prolegomena. Are there any specific conclusions that one should draw from the data? Perhaps, the first conclusion could be stated as follows: in this chapter I have presented my own philosophical starting point. Since all philosophical issues are debatable, mine are no different. However, the issues presented above form the philosophical starting point that I have chosen, and these issues will influence the remaining chapters that lead to a relational theology of church.


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The reader’s response could be one of rejection. However, I would hope that the reader’s response would at least be the following: “I see what the author is trying to say, and I see why he makes it a philosophical starting point. I honor his choice, though I might not accept it. I honor it by acknowledging its role as the philosophical starting point—along with the historical starting point and the theological starting point—from which the remainder of the volume will move.” If the reader at least comes this far, I have attained a main element of this chapter’s goal. Nonetheless, there are other implications of my choice of a philosophical starting point, and these, too, can be seen as conclusions resulting from the data of this chapter. a. A theology of relationship requires a philosophy of relationship. An essentialist form of philosophy, which is based on “eternal forms” and “unchangeable essences,” cannot honestly be the philosophical underpinning of a theology of relationship. A relational theology of church must incorporate a relational philosophy as its structuring form. For the Christian Churches today, such an ecclesiological reformulation includes major structural changes. Major changes in ecclesiology have already begun, and the documents of Vatican II, while not developing a complete new form of ecclesiology, did open the door to major changes in the standard, dominant, and operative theology of the Catholic Church. This philosophical chapter, therefore, simply offers a metaphysical basis for the relational theology of church that is currently being developed. b. A relational philosophical base brings credibility to the Roman Catholic Church today. For obvious reasons, the credibility of the Roman Catholic Church has deteriorated over the last fifty years. Many Catholics and non-Catholics have concluded that the dominant, standard, and operative theology of the Catholic Church, that has since the Reformation both developed and become commonplace, is a major part of the problems that have caused the incredibility of today’s church. c. A new western episteme has also contributed to the incredibility of the church. Euro-Americans, by and large, no longer think in the philosophical forms that buttressed the standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology. In particular, postmodern philosophy has deconstructed and reconstructed the subject-object relationship. It has integrated being and spacetime together, thus relativizing the

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finite world in all its aspects. It has analyzed language as diachronically and synchronically relational with no “absolute” linguistic base. And it has emphasized the beauty and even supremacy of the individual over the common. Because of all of these issues, postmodern western thought is becoming more and more relational. Postmodern philosophy or phenomenology is itself a relational philosophy. Many Christians today think in a postmodern and phenomenological way. When church leaders and theologians present both a philosophy and a theology in essentialistic terms, their message has little to no meaning for these Christians. If church leaders continue to live in a world dominantly expressed in essentialistic terms, the incredibility of the church can only intensify. d. A relational philosophical base calls into question any assumption that a finite institution has any absolute, necessary, and unchanging quality about it. Rather, a relational philosophical base provides a structure that allows a pervasiveness of radical contingency, relativity, and non-necessity. In the churches today, many church members have rejected some “absolutes” maintained by the leadership of the churches.110 We see this in the Anglican Church, in many Protestant Churches, and in the Roman Catholic Church. If these absolutes are made on the foundation of an “absolute” philosophy, then the defense of the absolutes can indeed be questioned, for there is no such thing as an “absolute” philosophy. This has been acknowledged by the highest magisterium of the church again and again, most recently by John Paul II in his encyclical, Fides et Ratio.111 e. Non-relational thinking appears to be a Euro-Anglo-American episteme. It is no wonder that roughly only four percent of the Asian world is Christian, since for Asians being Christian means adopting a non-relational episteme that is totally foreign to their

110 There has been a recent uprising in the Anglican Church over such issues as the ordination of homosexual people and also the ordination of women to the episcopacy. In various Protestant Churches, these same two issues have been divisive. In the Roman Catholic Church the rejection of Humanae vitae by a wide group of Catholics was a major beginning of open and even defiant disagreement with church leadership. The various liberation theologies also challenged certain “absolute views” presented by Catholic leadership. Ecclesiastical leadership today struggles to maintain some of its “absolute views.” The challenge by church members to these absolute positions cannot be simply set to one side. 111 John Paul II, Fides et ratio, n. 49 “The Church has no philosophy of her own nor does she canonize any one particular philosophy in preference to others.”


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own episteme. It is no wonder that independent African Christians are calling for a re-writing of African religious history based on the Holy Spirit and not on the introduction of Christianity into Africa.112 It is no wonder that indigenous groups in North and South America have become tepid to the Christian episteme that they were given. It is also no wonder that many contemporary Christians within the western world, who have abandoned the essentialist framework of western thought, find Christian Churches unintelligible. What I have proposed above is simply one possible way of doing this. Even my scotistic confreres may have hesitations. The claim of centrality for scotistic contingency, made by Anton Vos, Henri Veldhuis, LoomanGrosskamp, Eef Dekker and Nico Den Bok may be overstated, but contingency remains central to scotistic thinking. The claim of Knuuttila for scotistic modality as essentially involving formal relationships between propositions may again be overstated, but formal relationships and modality are part of the scotistic core. Sylwanowicz’s centralizing of scotistic self-moving being may be at times also overstated, but selfmoving being remains part of the scotistic core. Prentice’s analysis of scotistic essential order may be done in an overly essentialistic way, but essential order remains part of the core of scotistic thought. In all of this, relationality shows up in the thought of Scotus time and time again. Scotus was certainly influenced by Aristotle, but far more than Thomas Aquinas or Henry of Ghent, Scotus took issue with many of Aristotle’s key positions, and moved in far different ways than Aristotle would countenance. Interestingly, the areas in that Scotus rejected Aristotle more often than not have to do with relationship: namely, Haecceitas (individuality), contingency, non-necessity of actual beings, formal distinctions, and freedom of the will, particularly of the divine will, to mention only the more salient. At the edges of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, Scotus, even with the constraints of his time, moved into a strongly relational philosophical structure. The world of the third millennium, however, is a world that is basically experienced by various cultures and groupings of people as relational. If the leadership of the Roman Christian Churches today

112 Eliszbeth Isichei, A History of Christianity in Africa: from Antiquity to the Present (Trenton, New Jersey: Africa World Press, 1995), 7–8.

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rejects radical relationship as an episteme, the credibility of the church can only deteriorate in a further and exponential way. On the basis of relationship, and only on the basis of relationship, can many Christians today pray in all earnestness: “We believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic church.”

CHAPTER FIVE

THE THEOLOGICAL STARTING POINT: AN INFINITELY FREE RELATIONAL GOD

Chapter four was basically philosophical in its focus, and to a lesser degree it was also theological. Chapter five is basically theological in its focus, and to a lesser degree it is also philosophical. Chapter four began with a centralizing point from the writings of Scotus: “Unless being implies one univocal intention, theology would simply perish.” This chapter also begins with a centralizing point taken from the Quodlibetal Questiones of Scotus. Et ratio est, quia omnis talis intellectio, scilicet per se et propria et immediata requirit ipsum objectum sub propria ratione objecti praesens, et hoc vel in propria existentia, puta si est intuitiva vel in aliquo perfecto repraesentante ipsum sub propria et per se ratione cognoscibilis, si fuerit abstractiva; Deus autem sub propria ratione divinitatis non est praesens alicui intellectui creato, nisi mere voluntarie.1

I have selected this passage because in it there are three issues of major importance that affect every theology of God. Not only medieval scholars such as Scotus but also contemporary theologians struggle with these three issues, namely: 1. What constitutes a proper understanding of God? 2. Does the human mind have any natural capacity to arrive at some knowledge of God’s existence and God’s nature? 3. How can a human mind and will understand the infinite freedom of God? The first issue focuses on a proper understanding of God. In the citation above, Scotus stresses this issue through such phrases as sub propria ratione, in propria existentia, and per se et propria ratio. One can label

1 Scotus, Scotus, Quaestiones Quodlibetales: Joannis Duns Scoti Opera Omnia (Paris: L. Vivès, 1895) q. 14, 10, p. 39.

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this issue as the ontological issue since it is focused on a real and objective representation of God’s being or nature. The second issue focuses on our human intellectual ability to know something about God. We can call this the epistemological issue. In the citation above, Scotus stresses the epistemological factors when he mentions an intuitive intellection of God with its connotation of angelic or intuitive intellection and an abstractive intellection of God with its connotation of human intellection. The third issue centers on God’s infinite will. In his citation, Scotus mentions a single word, voluntarie, but this single word states something highly significant for any theology of God. Scotus states that God “is not present to any created intellect other than voluntarily.” This means that God must first voluntarily manifest God’s own self to intellectual creatures, before the created intellect has even a possibility of knowing anything at all about God’s existence and essence. Philosophically, Scotus says: “unless being implies one univocal intention, theology would simply perish.” Theologically, he says: unless we know something about God’s existence and nature, which happens only because God first and voluntarily reveals God’s own self, theology would be meaningless. Centuries later, Karl Barth expressed the same position: Only because there is a veiling of God can there be an unveiling, and only because there is a veiling and unveiling of God can there be a self-impartation of God [to creation]2 (Italics added).

These three issues provide the framework for this chapter. The first issue in the scotistic text is the God issue When medieval Christian scholars such as Scotus wrote about God, what did they understand by the term God? Alexander of Hales, Albert the Great, Thomas Aquinas, Bonaventure, and Scotus were all men of Christian faith. All of them believed in God, and as Christian believers they entered into their academic careers. In the passage above, Scotus indicates what his belief in God entails, namely, a correct appreciation of who and what God truly is. As a Christian medieval person, Scotus

2

Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics, I/I, 417.

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had in mind, as did all the other scholars just mentioned, the God of the Christian Church. This obvious statement about their Christian faith presents a caveat to us who live in the third millennium. We cannot read our own contemporary views of God into these medieval authors as they write about God. In today’s globalized situation with its inter-religions dialogues, the term God has diverse meanings for contemporary people of different cultures and religious persuasions. When we read a medieval text, we must continually try to understand the term God in the way in which the authors themselves understood God. We need to avoid a form of eisegesis, that is a reading into the medieval texts our own interpretation of God. Rather, the contextualization of the text itself must convey the meaning of God through its own and proper exegesis. We must read the medieval texts contextually, if we intend to grasp their proper meaning. Only then can we deduce their actual value. The second issue in the scotistic text is an epistemological issue Can the human mind and will by their very nature arrive at a knowledge and love of God at least in some small way? In chapter three, we studied Scotus’ presentation on univocity. Since liminal univocity of being is not polar, e.g., finite-infinite, true-false, etc., the liminal univocity of isness by itself remains indifferent and therefore univocal to all polarities. Polarity of any kind has no valuation at the liminal level of univocal isness. Nonetheless, the liminal univocity of isness provides an epistemological platform for a possible human intelligibility in relationship to God. Since the liminal univocity of isness is not a first principle in the sense that it is a common base of derivation, that is, a base of derivation for finite and infinite being, one cannot argue from the liminal univocity of being to the existence or nature of God. Both univocal liminal isness and God’s antecedent and voluntary revelation are the pre-conditions sine qua non for one’s knowledge and love of God. Without univocal isness, theology would perish. I mention this in order to indicate the fundamental interconnection of chapters four and five. The third issue in the scotistic text stems from the word voluntarily For Scotus, the entire God question—thus the entire reality of the theological enterprise—rests on a primary action of God that is at

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the same time an infinitely free action. If God had not freely entered into the human situation, no theology of God would be possible. The theological enterprise depends on an initial and voluntary revelation by God and of God. Scotus, throughout his works, centers again and again on the infinite freedom of God. For Scotus and for many other Franciscan scholars, no theological presentation can dismiss God’s infinite freedom. It should be noted, however, that the opposite of God’s infinite free will is, in the Franciscan tradition, a radical contingency of all created and finite beings. Chapter five offers a theological starting point for this volume, namely, a theology of an infinitely free and relational God. In the writings of the great patristic scholars, such as Basil, Gregory of Nazianz, John Chrysostom, and Augustine, and in the writings of the great theologians of the middle ages, Albert the Great, Thomas Aquinas, Bonaventure, and John Duns Scotus, one finds that their respective theologies of God colored and shaped almost all the other theological issues in their presentations. The God-centered theology of these great scholars provides us today with a pattern for presenting contemporary theologies, and in particular a contemporary theology of church. This chapter, then, is a small attempt to do likewise. The Franciscan theology regarding God will color and shape the remainder of this book. Marcus Borg states that in the post-Reformation world two developments took place through which Christian belief became a belief in intellectual propositions. He writes: The first is the Protestant Reformation, which not only emphasized faith, but also produced a number of new denominations. Each defined itself from other Protestants by what they “believed,” that is, by their distinctive doctrines or confessions. Lutherans believed x, Presbyterians believed y, Baptists believed z and so forth. Roman Catholics followed suit, distinguishing themselves by what they believed compared to what Protestants believed. Christian faith thus became believing the right things, having “right” beliefs, instead of “wrong” beliefs.3

In this paragraph, Borg indicates that eventually a particular ecclesiology and not a theology of God shaped and colored western Protestant and Catholic theologies. This marks a major change away from the great theologies of earlier writers (Basil, Gregory, etc.).

3

Marcus Borg, The Heart of Christianity (New York: HarperSanFrancisco, 2004), 28.


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The second development, according to Borg, was the “birth of modern science and scientific ways of knowing in the Enlightenment of the seventeenth century. . . . The Enlightenment identified truth with factuality: truth is that that can be verified as factual. . . . The Enlightenment called into question the factuality of parts of the Bible and many traditional Christian teachings.”4 Unfortunately, as western theologies developed from the seventeenth century onwards, ecclesiologies through their denominational beliefs as distinct from other denominational beliefs continued to color and shape the theological corpus of their respective scholars. By itself, ecclesiology cannot provide answer to the Enlightenment’s questions; only a solid theology of God can do so. Originally, both Luther and Calvin had raised a God-question, not a church question. Both men emphasized God’s holy Word rather than the words of a pope or bishop. In the episteme of their time, they placed the Word of God at the center of their theological enterprise, and argued that Roman theology did not center its theology on God. As the Reformation went on, the centrality of the Word of God became more narrowly focused on the issue of justification by faith alone. Nonetheless, the struggle over faith on the one hand and good works on the other hand remained a God-issue as the later Tridentine decree on justification indicates. However, in the seventeenth century, even in issues of faith and good works, the focus of a denominational church became “our beliefs” over “their beliefs.” Slowly but surely the church issue, not the God issue, began to color and shape the denominational positions. The initial Roman response to Luther and Calvin had been a defense of the church, namely, a defense of papal and episcopal authority. Such a response was not centered directly on the God issue. The focus was primarily on ecclesiastical issues. As Borg points out, the churches strove to provide a legitimacy of “one’s own church” against the claimed legitimacy of the “others’ church.” As a result, polemical issues in the respective ecclesiologies began to domesticate the ways in which a denominational theology of God could and could not be presented. Apologetic ecclesiologies slowly began to determine the forms in which a theology of God could be expressed in a given denomination. Fortunately, the current renewal of ecclesiology has moved, for the most part, beyond an apologetic framework.

4

Ibid., 29.

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The above paragraphs offer a context in and through which the material in chapter five on a theology of God makes sense. In keeping with the Franciscan tone of this volume, I will further specify the foundational issue of chapter five as follows: the theological point of departure for a Franciscan theology of church is a theology of an infinitely free and relational God, who is diffusive goodness, unending love, and infinitely free. Chapter five is divided into four parts: 1. 2. 3. 4.

The theologies of a triune God in western Christianity. The theology of a relational God in Bonaventure The capacity of the human mind and will to comprehend God. A contemporary theology of a relational God.

1. The Theologies of a Triune God in Western Christianity In the history of western theology there have been three different major approaches to the Trinitarian God.5 The three Trinitarian theologies of the western church presented in the following paragraphs depart from the long-standing position of Théodore de Régnon’s study, Études de Théologie positive sur la Sainte Trinité.6 De Régnon had divided western Trinitarian thought into only two positions: that of Augustine and Thomas Aquinas on the one hand and that of Richard of St. Victor and Bonaventure on the other hand. He described the sources for Thomas in the following way. Thomas’s Trinitarian theology is based on Augustine and from there to Anselm, Peter Lombard, and Albert the Great. Bonaventure’s interpretation, de Régnon claimed, was based

5 In the last century and a half, Catholic writers have generally indicated that in western theology there were only two trinitarian traditions, namely, that of Augustine and that of Richard of St. Victor. See Anselm Min, Paths to the Triune God: An Encounter between Aquinas and Recent Theologies, (Notre Dame, Indiana: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005) 170. See also Anne Hunt., Trinity: Nexus of the Mysteries of Christian Faith, (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2006) 14–28; 105; and Maria Calisi, Trinitarian Perspectives in the Franciscan Theological Tradition (St. Bonaventure, New York: The Franciscan Institute, 2008). Contemporary scholarship, however, has shown that Bonaventure and Richard of St. Victor are not of one mind in their trinitarian discussions, and that Bonaventure’s approach is a third western theological format for trinitarian thought. 6 Théodore de Régnon, Études de Théologie positive sur la Sainte Trinité (Paris: Victor Retaux et Fils, 1892).


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on Dionysius, Richard of St. Victor, William of Auvergne, William of Auxerre, and Alexander of Hales. During the latter half of the nineteenth century and the first half of the twentieth century, most commentators followed de Régnon’s description of the trinitarian difference between Thomas and Bonaventure. The triadic contemporary division of western Trinitarian theology is as follows. The First Approach: Augustine—Thomas Aquinas Augustine provided a foundation for most all of western trinitarian theology. Augustine centered on the analogy between human consciousness and a trinitarian understanding of God. In De Trinitate, Augustine centers on the triad: the mind, its knowledge of itself, and its love of itself (Book 9, chapters 2–8). He then focuses on the triad: memory, understanding, and love (Book 10, chapters 2–12). Finally, he turns to the mind that in a triadic way remembers, knows and loves God (Book 14, chapters 8–16). In a special way, Augustine found the final triad a satisfactory analogy, but it was the first triad—mind, knowledge, and love—which Augustine treated in detail. Even though Augustine mentions love in this triad, his focus is more on the intellectual aspect of the triad rather than on the love aspect. Nonetheless, all of his triads are only analogies, and Augustine makes the analogous quality of his own argument very clear.7 Augustine is seen as one of the most important trinitarian theologians, since he not only stresses the reality of a triune God (ότι εστιν) but also, from a human intellectual and faith standpoint, namely, how God’s nature can be Trinitarian (ως εστιν). In moving in this dual direction, Augustine analyzed the issues of relation and of immanence within a Trinitarian God.8 Augustine admits that his analysis does not provide us with a clear understanding of the Trinity, but he does claim that his analysis gives us a small insight into or a shadow of God’s loving and knowing triune nature.

7 Besides Augustine’s De Trinitate, cf., Epistula XI (Nicene and Post Nicene Fathers) and De Fide et Symbolo. Secondary authors include Peter Brown Augustine of Hippo: A Biography (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000) See Hunt p. 17. 8 See Martin Grabmann, “Augustinuslehre von Glauben und Wissen und ihr Einfluss auf das mittelalterlische Denken,” Mittelalterliches Geistesleben, II, (Munich: Hüber, 1926): 35–62; Michael Schmaus, Die Denkform Augustins in seinem Werke De Trinitate (Munich: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1962).

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Augustine centered strongly on the Trinitarian God ad intra, rather than the economic God ad extra. In the Greek theology of that same patristic era, the economic trinity was widely emphasized. Augustine’ Trinitarian approach offered a counterbalance to this trend. However, one of the effects of the Augustinian theology of trinity was the later theological overemphasis on an immanent trinity to an almost total disregard of an economic trinity. Only in contemporary times have western theologians delved more deeply into the economic trinity. The theological thrust of Augustine was to understand in and through faith at least something of the Trinity—“Fides quaerit, intellectus invenit”9—and his efforts provided the medieval theological world with an optimistic approach to Trinitarian studies. Olegario González in his volume, Mistero Trinitario y existencia humana, describes the situation as follows. Frente al apofatismo trinitario dionisiano existe en Augustín un optimismo radical y una absoluta confianza en las posibilidades del intellectus fidelis. La intelección es fruto no tanto del esfuerzo cuanto de la oración: “Hoc autem quaeramus intelligere ab eo ipso quem intelligere volumus.”10

Augustine distanced himself from a negative stance that emphasized the inability of human beings to know anything at all about the Trinity. This negative and apophatic approach is found in Pseudo-Dionysius and John Scotus Eriugena. Augustine deliberately moved to a more positive theological approach as regards trinitarian investigation. Thomas Aquinas was deeply indebted to the Augustinian theology of trinity, but he was also indebted to Anselm of Canterbury who insisted on the principle that God is one in nature and that the three persons are actualized only in virtue of relationality. Thomas’ theology of trinity can certainly be seen as a maturation of the previous western Trinitarian tradition for he utilized key aspects of Augustinian-Anselmian Trinitarian thought in a systematic way. Thomas states again and again that the nature of God is the unity of God’s ens and esse. No other reality has such a unity. On this understanding of God’s nature, he elaborated his explanation of the relations of persons. which Augustine had initiated

9

Augustine, De Trinitate, c. 15, 2. Olegario González, Misterio Trinitario y Existencia Humana: Estudio Histórico Teológico en Torno a San Buenaventura (Madrid: Ediciones Rialp: 1965), 258–259; the citation from Augustine can be found in De Trinitate, 9, 1, 1. 10


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and which Anselm had developed in a strongly relational way. In a recent volume, Paths to the Triune God: An Encounter between Aquinas and Recent Theologies, Anselm Min presents a comprehensive and detailed explanation of the Trinity in Thomas Aquinas. I am indebted to his study in a very deep way. Min argues that Thomas’ Trinitarian theology is relational when Thomas moves from his section in the Summa Theologiae on the one God to his section in the same Summa on the triune God.11 Min also makes a strong case for Thomas’ emphasis on both an immanent and economic trinity.12 In doing so, Min follows the path taken earlier by Walter Principe.13 As regards Trinitarian theology, Thomas both in his early Commentary on the Sentences, in his Summa contra Gentiles and in his final Summa Theologiae was far more hesitant than Augustine in allowing the human mind and will to apprehend anything at all about a Trinitarian God. The mind could come to some knowledge of God, but by itself it has no entry into a theology of a Trinitarian God. Wippel in his volume on Thomas stresses the limitedness of the human mind to know anything about God.14 There is no doubt that the Trinitarian theologies of Augustine and Thomas Aquinas have nourished both western theology and faith in a rich and generous way. In the writings of Luther and Calvin, citations from Augustine are second only to their citations of the scriptures. In the Roman Church, the Trinitarian theology of Thomas Aquinas has held a dominant place from the seventeenth century onward. The Second Approach: Richard of St. Victor Unlike Augustine, Richard of St. Victor (d. c. 1173) centered his Trinitarian insights on the reality of God’s love, using its analogical comparison to human love.15 He considered unselfish human love as a profound reflection of the unselfish love of the three divine persons. In human life, one person loves another person in an unselfish way,

11 See Min, Paths to the Triune God: An Encounter between Aquinas and Recent Theologies, 168–238. Min carefully elaborates the trinitarian position of Thomas on the basis of Thomas’ own writings, not on the basis of a contemporary thomistic view. 12 Ibid., 26–39, 76–91, and 234–238. 13 Walter Principe, Thomas Aquinas’ Spirituality, (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1984). 14 Wippel, op. cit., 505, 538–539. 15 Richard of St. Victor, De Trinitate (PL 196: 887–992).

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but a man and a woman are also able to love a third person, a child, without diminishing their love for each other. A husband and wife can also love their child in an unselfish way and at the same time they can love each other in an unselfish way.16 Richard’s analogous use of human love for an understanding of Trinity marks the point of differentiation between his Trinitarian theology and Augustinian Trinitarian theology. In the De Trinitate of Augustine (8, 14; 9, 2; and 15, 10), one finds the comparison of Trinity to the love of mother-father-child, but Augustine does not make this analogy his central analogy. Richard of St. Victor, on the other hand, takes this triadic love-analogy from Augustine and makes it his own centering analogy for Trinitarian theology. The sources of Richard’s Trinitarian theology have been the focus of recent scholars such as G. Dumeige, A. M. Ethier, A. Malet, J. Beumer, G. Salet, and O. González.17 One source, namely Greek theology of the trinity, has often been associated with Richard by various scholars. Current scholars, however, have come to the conclusion that there is no major influence of Dionysius on the Trinitarian work of Richard, and that Richard had only some influence on Bonaventure.18 González developed a listing of Eastern Fathers who are cited in the writings of Richard of St. Victor, namely, Pseudo-Dionysius (11 times), Basil the Great (5), Origen (4), John Damascene (3), Athanasius and Cyril of Alexandria (2 each), and Clement of Rome, Didymus the Blind, Gregory of Nazianz and Gregory of Nyssa (1 each).19 Given this data, he concludes that one cannot claim that Richard of St. Victor utilized Pseudo-Dionysius and John Damascene in a central way for his Trinitarian theology. Zachary Hayes notes that the position of Théodore De Régnon and his followers “tended to present Richard as a deserter from the camp of Augustine,” and that Richard “drank deeply from Greeks streams

16

See Hunt, 24–25. Gervais Dumeige, Richard de Saint Victor et l’idée chrétienne de l’amour (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1952) 171–185; André M. Ethier, Le “De Trinitate” de Richard de Saint Victor (Paris: 1939); A. Malet, Personne et amour dans la théologie trinitaire de Saint Thomas d’Aquin (Paris: J. Vrin, 1956) 37–42; G. Salet, “Le mystère de la charité divine,” Recherches de Science Religeuse, 28 (1938): 5–30; González, op. cit., 339–362; and J. Beumer, Richard von St. Viktor: Theologe und Mystiker (1956). 18 González itemizes in specific detail how often the two scholars, Richard and Bonaventure, used texts and arguments from Dionysius and how thin Richard’s Dionysian material is when compared to the Dionysian citations in Bonaventure: 295–363. 19 González, 4. 17


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and thus developed a style that was competitive to the Augustinian tradition.”20 González offers a quite different view: “Ricardo es uno puro latino, un augustiniano, que su teología ha surgido bajo la fascinación de Agustín; y que, si no exclusivamente, sí fundalmente es agustiniano”21 The contemporary reevaluation of Richard of St. Victor’s Trinitarian theology in no way diminishes the role that Richard has played in western theology. Hunt reminds us that Dante, in his Divine Comedy, describes Richard in a powerful way. Dante writes: “In contemplation [Richard is] more than a man.”22 Hunt herself states that Richard’s view of the Trinity “has enjoyed considerable appeal in modern attempts to reinvigorate an understanding and appreciation of the mystery of the Trinity.”23 The Third Approach: Bonaventure Aided in a specific way by the writings and teaching of Alexander of Hales, John of La Rochelle and Odo Rigaldus, Bonaventure radically incorporated aspects of Eastern theology, especially those of John Damascene and Dionysius, into western Trinitarian theology.24 Only in the past fifty to sixty years has the Trinitarian doctrine of Bonaventure been given its originative and unique status. The above listing of his Franciscan mentors, Alexander of Hales, John of La Rochelle and Odo Rigaldus, reminds us that Bonaventure is providing a distinctive Franciscan approach to the Trinity and not simply his own approach. He learned much from his mentors and their influence can be seen throughout his Trinitarian writings. In medieval scholarship today, Bonaventure’s theology of trinity is presented as a third distinct form of Trinitarian thought in the Roman Catholic Church, for it is Bonaventure who among western theologians

20 Zachary Hayes, St. Bonaventure’s Disputed Questions of the Trinity: An Introduction and a Translation (St. Bonaventure, New York: The Franciscan Institute, 1979) 19. 21 González, 337–338. 22 Hunt, Trinity, 24. 23 Ibid., 26. 24 Théodore de Régnon, Études de théologie positive sur la sainte Trinité, 3 volumes (Paris: Victor Retaux et fils, 1892–1898) maintained that there were only two forms of medieval trinitarian theology: that of Augustine-Aquinas and that of Richard of St. Victor-Bonaventure. His position was generally accepted until the writings of González appeared.

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incorporated Dionysian thought into his Trinitarian structure in a primary and distinctive way. Part two of this chapter presents Bonaenture’s Trinitarian theology in detail.

2. The Theology of a Relational God in Bonaventure Bonaventure’s relational emphasis in his Trinitarian writings has been noted by several scholars. Luis Iammarrone states the situation clearly: Buenaventura considera la naturaleza de Dios como realidad relacional dentro de sí misma. La vida de relación es vida que implica una pluralidad de sujetos intercompenetrándose entre ellos en la posesión de una idéntica riqueza de ser. El dinamismo inmanente de la vida divina es dada por el amor, que es el fundamento.25

González is even more exuberant in his presentation of Bonaventure’s trinitarian theology. San Buenaventura es el pensador trinitario de la Edad Media, no tanto porque haya creado una teología nueva, cuanto por la síntesis que en su persona se ha logrado de teoría y vida, de especulación sistemática y de vivencia personal. El horizante de un Dios trino, que trinitariamente es y trinitariamente se comunica, pasa a ser el horizonte, en que se despliega el existir humano adquiriendo así sentido, y la meta en que se consuma.26

Bonaventure’s trinitarian theology is relational in a way that differs from that of Augustine-Aquinas and that of Richard of St. Victor. The differences found in Bonaventure focus on the issue of relationality and on the Dionysian influence that can be characterized by the phrase, bonum est sui diffusivum. Current study of Bonaventure’s theology of a Trinitarian God has been spearheaded by several major theological works.27 In the following pages, I am indebted to the research and insight of these authors.

25

Iammarrone, “La Trinidad,” Manual de Teología Franciscana, 77. González, op. cit., 4–5. 27 Among them we can cite: Fanny Imle and Julian Kaup, Die Theologie des h. Bonaventura. Darstellung seiner dogmatischen Lehren (Werl: Druck, 1933); Titus Szabo, De ss. Trinitate in Creaturis Refulgente Doctrina S. Bonaventurae (Rome, Orbis Catholicus, 1955); Zachary Hayes, St. Bonaventure’s Disputed Questions on the Mystery of The Trinity; Étienne Gilson, La philosophie de Saint Bonaventura (Paris: J. Vrin, 1943); Luc Matthieu, La Trinité créatrice d’après Saint Bonaventure (Paris: Institut 26


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Recently, two scholars have detailed the basic differences between the Dominican and Franciscan approach to a theology of God. Scott Matthews, in his essay, “Arguments, Texts, and Contexts: Anselm’s Argument and the Friars,” provides a carefully documented distinction regarding the different theologies of God as presented in the writings of Dominican Friars and as presented in the writings of Franciscan Friars. Matthews moves beyond mendicant rivalry and focuses on the respective goals and understandings of the two groups.28 The second scholar is Emmanuel Falque, whose essay, “The Phenomenological Act of Perscrutatio in the Proemium of St. Bonaventure’s Commentary on the Sentences,” provides a very detailed analysis of the Proemia of the Sentences as developed by Bonaventure and Thomas. In this essay, he indicates with an abundance of textual references how and why these two major theologians moved in theologically different directions.29 What is presented on Bonaventure in the following pages, then, is the result of an enormous amount of research during the last fifty years. A caveat similar to that made at the beginning of chapter three is in order. In the following pages on Bonaventure, my intention is not to re-present Bonaventure’s theology of God. Rather, I will utilize Bonaventure’s insights and perhaps stretch them in ways that I think are of service to our contemporary needs. Bonaventure scholars will certainly notice this stretching of Bonaventure’s thought. Since I am neither a Bonaventure scholar nor a medievalist, my focus is more on a systematic theology of God based on Bonaventure that will be of benefit to contemporary Roman Catholics rather than on a restatement of Bonaventure’s theology of God. Just as I moved scotistic ideas to wider dimensions than Scotus himself might have done (as in the issue of liminal univocity of isness), so, too, I will move Bonaventure’s ideas to wider dimensions that he himself might not have anticipated.

Catholique, 1968); Michael Schmaus, “Die Trinitätskonzeption in Bonaventuras Itinerarium mentis in Deum,” Wissenschaft und Weisheit, 15 (1962: 229–237); Albert Stohr, Die Trinitätslehre des heiligen Bonaventura: Eine systematische Darstellung und historische Würdigung (Munich: Aschendorf, 1923); and Olegario González, Mystero Trinitario y Existentia Humana. 28 Scott Matthews, “Arguments, Texts, and Contexts: Anselm’s Argument and the Friars,” Medieval Philosophy and Theology, 8 (1998) 1: 83–104. 29 Emmanuel Falque, “The Phenomenological Act of Perscrutatio in the Proemium of St. Bonaventure’s Commentary on the Sentences,” Medieval Philosophy and Theology, 10 (2001) 1: 1–22.

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I also want to admit at the beginning that there are limitations to Bonaventure’s theology of a Trinitarian God. At the end of his essay, “La Trinidad en Buenaventura,” Iammarrone indicates certain drawbacks to Bonaventure’s thought. He writes: “Sería deseable en Buenaventura una más amplia reflexión sobre las relaciones trinitarias.”30 At times, Bonaventure merely states that there are relations, but he does not philosophically delve deep enough into the meaning of relationship. A second limitation, that Iammarrone notes, is the following: “La teología de la gracia o inhabitación divina merecería una profundización ulterior.”31 There are several issues both of divine grace and of the Holy Spirit that Bonaventure did not treat in any great detail. The issues on the Holy Spirit are already found in Peter Lombard’s Book of Sentences, L. I, Distinctiones XIV to XVII.32 The material from the Book of Sentences and several Franciscan Commentaries on these distinctions will be cited at the beginning of chapter six of this volume. Distinctiones XIV to XVII are imbedded in Lombard’s detailed treatment of the Trinity ad intra, but remarkably these particular distinctions focus on the Trinity ad extra, almost breaking the Trinitarian focus ad intra. We will see that Bonaventure’s interconnection of the immanent ad intra and the economic ad extra Trinity is extremely strong, even though there are some particular issues vis-à-vis this interconnection that he does not express in adequate detail. After stating these limitations, Iammarrone concludes his essay on Bonaventure’s Trinitarian theology by providing aspects of contemporary relevance that Bonaventure’s theology has. Toda la teología trinitaria de Buenaventura se presenta con muy ricos aspectos positivos y es capaz de atraer la atención de los teólogos modernos para profundizar en ella de forma más intensa.33

If the following pages on Bonaventure succeed in moving Christian theology today to a more profound and intense appreciation of an infinite relational theology of God, Iammarrone’s expression of hope will in some small way be realized. In the following pages, I will argue that in the Trinitarian theology of Bonaventure, two basic relational issues arise. The first is that God,

30 31 32 33

Iammarrone, 118. Ibid., 118. Peter Lombard, Libri IV Sententiarum, v. 1, 89–117. Iammarrone, 118.


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Summum Ens, is intrinsically relational. The second is that being itself, esse ipsum, is likewise relational. Both of these statements are not made by Bonaventure himself. I will argue that Bonaventure’s position on the Trinity leads to a relational approach for both esse ipsum and Summum Ens. This relational issue is further implied if one adds to Bonaventure’s approach to the Trinity Scotus’ presentation of infinite freedom. In ways far deeper than those found in Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, and Richard of St. Victor, Bonaventure has bequeathed to the Christian tradition a profound relational theology of the triune God.34 In 1966, González called his investigation of Bonaventure’s Trinitarian theology a “Copernican revolution.”35 In González’ approach, Bonaventure had constructed a theology of the Trinity that differs radically from that of both Augustine-Aquinas and Richard of St. Victor. Zachary Hayes and Jacques G. Bougerol have endorsed the conclusions of González on this issue.36 From the writings of Dionysius, Bonaventure argues that it is neither the intellect of God nor the interpersonal love of God that analogically centers Trinitarian theology. Rather, the centering is love as bonum est sui diffusivum.37 Bonum est sui diffusivum is not only a relational principle but also a causal relationship. Bonaventure gives a name to these interrelating actions of God, namely emanations. God is the supreme good and is therefore, by God’s very nature, self-communicative or self-emanating. Hayes

34

The Catechism of the Catholic Church begins with the Apostolic Constitution, Fidei depositum, by John Paul II. He writes: “The Catechism of the Catholic Church . . . is a statement of the Church’s faith and of catholic doctrine, attested to or illumined by Sacred Scripture, the Apostolic Tradition, and the Church’s Magisterium” (5). The Catechism is described as presenting the church’s tradition. If the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition was only a small part of the Christian Tradition, there might be some basis for its silence regarding Franciscan theologians. However, the Franciscan tradition has been a major theological tradition in the church from the thirteenth century down to today. The total silence on this theological tradition in the Catechism seems to indicate that the Catechism itself is presenting only a selected aspect of the Christian tradition. 35 Gonzáles, 337: “Respeto de las fuentes patrísticas de Ricardo, tenemos que confesar que la investigación de los últimos quince años ha realizado un giro copernicano.” 36 Hayes, Saint Bonaventure’s Disputed Questions on the Mystery of the Trinity, 19–24. 37 González, 117–143. González in this lengthy section of his book analyzes the origins of the phrase, bonum est sui diffusivum, in Plotinus, and its roots in Plato. Alongside the good (the platonic emphasis) is being (the Aristotelian emphasis). Bonaventure unites the two into a relational unity: bonum-ens. If it is being, it is; if it is good, it is diffusive of itself. If it is bonum est sui diffusivum, it is self-activating and relational good that means that being is also self-activating and relational.

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writes: “The mystery of self-diffusiveness must be articulated in terms of a dialectical relationship.”38 Through the identification of bonum diffusivum and ens, as we shall see, the very meaning of both ens and bonum is changed. Ens becomes relational and bonum becomes ontological and emanational. Augustine, Richard of St. Victor, and Thomas Aquinas did not formulate such a comprehensive and relational understanding of Summum Bonum and Summum Ens.39 Let us consider this position in more detail. Luis Iammarrone, Jacques Guy Bougerol, Zachary Hayes, Luc Mathieu, H. Heinz, and Johannes Freyer base their analysis of Bonaventure’s Trinitarian relationality on five major works of Bonaventure: the Commentary on the Sentences, the Breviloquium, the Disputed Questions on the Mystery of the Trinity, the Itinerarium, and the Collationes in Hexaëmeron.40 In his Commentary on the Sentences, Bonaventure begins his formal theological discussion on God with an opening question: Utrum unus sit tantum Deus?41 His affirmative answer is notably brief. Deus enim dicit simpliciter summum et in re et in opinione cogitantis. Quia in re, ideo omnia ab ipso et in ipso et ad ipsum, et in ipso omnino est status; ideo impossibile est intelligere, salvo hoc intellectu, quod aliquid sibi perificetur alius ad ipso.42

Immediately after this first question regarding the existence of only one God, Bonaventure raises a second question that focuses on the relational or Trinitarian God. Utrum in Deo ponenda sit personarum pluralitas?” Bonaventure’s transition from De Deo Uno to De Deo Trino is immediate. There is no lengthy discussion of a non-Trinitarian God.

38

Hayes, Bonaventure: “Mystery of the Triune God”: 59. Thomas was aware of this plotinian unification of being and good, but he clarifies the relation of God’s essence and God’s goodness when he writes: “Et ideo ipse solus [Deus] est bonus per suam essentiam” (ST, Pars prima, q. 6, a. 3, Respondeo). It is the divine essence that allows one to speak of God as good. For Bonaventure, to speak of God’s essence is simultaneously to speak of God’s goodness, and to speak of God’s goodness is to speak simultaneously of God’s essence. 40 Bonaventure, Commentaria in Quattuor Libros Sententiarium Magistri Petri Lombardi, in Opera Omnia Sancti Bonaventurae (Quaracchi: Collegium S. Bonaventurae, 1882), vv. 1–4; hereafter referred to by the particular writings: Sent.; Breviloquium; Disputed Questions on the Trinity; Itinerarium Mentis Ad Deum (Saint Bonaventure, New York: Franciscan Institute Publications, 2002); and Collationes in Hexaëmeron (Quaracchi: Collegium S. Bonaventurae, 1934), ed. M. Delorme. 41 Bonaventure, Sent., I, 1, d. 2, a. 1. q. 1. 42 Bonaventure, ibid. 39


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Hayes describes Bonaventure’s position a regards a theology of God as follows: The Seraphic Doctor never develops an independent treatment of “the one God” . . . The systematic treatment of the doctrine of the trinity constitutes the whole of Bonaventure’s doctrine about God.43

It is in the second question that Bonaventure speaks of a relational, Trinitarian God: Utrum in Deo ponenda sit personarum pluralitas?44 Bonaventure answers his second question in the affirmative, and he provides four reasons why a plurality of persons—and therefore relationality—should be predicated of God. 1. Simplicitas: In virtue of simplicity (simplicitas), the divine essence is communicable and can exist in multiplicity (communicabilis et potens esse in pluribus). 2. Primitas: In virtue of firstness (primitas), a person is born to produce another from one’s self (persona nata est ex se aliam producere). This firstness he calls non-born-ableness (innascibilitas) and fontal fullness ( fontalis plenitudo). 3. Perfectio: In virtue of perfection (perfectio), plurality is both apt and at hand (apta et prompta). 4. Beatitudo et Caritas: In virtue of blessedness and love (beatitudo et caritas), plurality is voluntary (voluntaria).45 All four of these realities, simplicitas, primitas, perfectio and beatitudo et caritas, are based on the very nature of God. All four form the base for a plurality of persons in God. Only because the very being of God is itself simplicitas, primitas, perfectio and beatitudo et caritas, can Christians speak of a plurality of persons.46 In the case of simplicitas he

43

Hayes, “Bonaventure: Mystery of the Triune God”: 55; hereafter referred to as

MT. 44

Bonaventure, Sent., I, d. 2, a. 1, q. 2. Ibid. 46 The reader will find that throughout this chapter I use a parallel to Bonaventure’s approach. Bonaventure argues: only because the very being of God is itself simplicitas, primitas, perfectio and beatitudo et caritas, can Christians speak of a plurality of persons. I use a different format: stressing the fact that since God’s very being (esse and ens) is relational, are we able to speak of a plurality in God. That we refer to this relationality as Father, Son, and Spirit is metaphorical. In actuality, God is not a father if by this we use a “univocal” understanding of father. Nor is God a “son” is we use son in a univocal way. Nor is God a “spirit” if we use spirit in a univocal way. The three names, 45

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writes: “ratione simplicitatis essentia est communicabilis et potens esse in pluribus.”47 In the case of primitas he writes: “aliam producere.” In the case of perfectio he describes it as apta et prompta, that indicates that it is apt and at hand for something/someone. In the case of beatitudo et caritas he described them as voluntaria.48 An infinitely free will exists in a loving relationship. Each of these realities has, in Bonaventure’s explanation, a relational characteristic. In his presentation on this section of Bonaventure, Iammarrone reverses the four realities. He begins with summa beatitudo, followed by summa perfectio and then summa simplicitas.49 He ends with summa primitas. For the first three, Iammarrone continually focuses on the essence of God; however, in the last section, Iammarrone moves almost immediately to the innascibility of God the Father. This particular issue, that unites primitas to the innascibility of the Father, has been noted time and again by Bonaventure scholars. In one place out of many, for instance, Bonaventure writes: . . . quod sicut in essentiis una est essentia prima, a qua sunt aliae et ad quam, sic et in personis est una persona a qua sunt aliae et ad quam; et in illa est status originis, quia a nullo, et haec est persona Patris.50

Bonaventure realizes that his position is new, and consequently it represents only a theological position. In the case of innascibilitas, Bonaventure notes, a focus only on the innascibilitas of the Father does not seem to be adequate if innascibilitas is considered only negatively. The Father indeed is innascibilis (cum sit prima quia a nullo). However, just as the other three characteristics stem from God as bonum est sui diffusivum, innascibilitas also needs to be connected primordially to God’s nature as bonum est sui diffusivum. The interconnection in

father, son and spirit, have clear meanings in our human languages. When applied to God they are only analogical or equivocal. But analogy is metaphorical if one begins with a secondary meaning. If we apply the term Father to God and God is the basic analog itself, then human paternity can be only metaphorical; if we apply the term father to humans as the basic analog, then divine paternity can only be metaphorical. The Trinity is not based on metaphors. The Trinity is based on divine esse and ens and these are relational in themselves. 47 Bonaventure, Sent., I, d. 2, a. 1, q. 2. 48 Ibid. 49 Iammmarrone, op. cit., 77–78. González, as we have seen, begins his analysis of Bonaventure’s trinity with bonum est sui diffusivum that in some ways corresponds to Iammarrone’s beginning with beatitudo. 50 Sent., I d. 2, a. 1, q. 2., Respondeo, ad 4.


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Bonaventure of the relationship of innascibilitas to the primordial nature of God as well as to the first trinitiarian person, the Father, remains as of today an issue that needs further consideration. The material that follows these first two questions about God in Bonaventure’s Commentary is surprising, for in the next eight hundred pages (sic) of his Commentary, Bonaventure presents in detail his theology of a relational and infinitely free Trinitarian God. Such a methodological procedure contrasts sharply with the methodological procedure of Thomas Aquinas. In the Summa Theologiae, Thomas presents a commentary that follows to some extent the structure of Peter Lombard’s Libri IV Sententiarum, and therefore is in many ways parallel to the Commentary of Bonaventure. In the Summa Theologiae, Thomas begins his theological presentation on God with the same question one finds in Lombard’s Liber Primus Sententiarum. The question in the Summa reads: De Deo: an Deus sit? From Quaestio II to Quaestio XXVI, Thomas responds to this question about God. Only in Quaestio XXVII, some one-hundred pages after beginning his presentation on the theology of God, does Thomas focus on the trinity. At the start of Quaestio XXVII the editorial heading finally reads: Tractatus de Trinitate.51 In his book, The Metaphysical Thought of Thomas Aquinas, Wippel presents an in-depth study of Thomas’ argumentation for God’s existence.52 Wippel states that for Thomas God is not a direct subject matter of metaphysics.53 The subject of metaphysics for Thomas is ens commune, and it is only after an understanding of ens commune is one “in a position to inquire about its cause and principles.”54 Nonetheless, as Wippel reminds us, it is also true that Thomas postulates a philosophical position about one’s natural knowledge of God prior to the actual study of theology. These preliminary philosophical principles are a sort of “preamble of faith.” By these (preambles of faith) he (Thomas) has in mind certain truths that the believer must know, such as those that are proved by natural

51 My numbering of pages for Thomas is based on the Summa Theologica (Turin: Marietti, 1950), ed. Peter Caramello, in that the section on the one God, 2–26, extends from page 10 to page 146. Other editions of the Summa would be similar in the number of pages for this section of Thomas’ presentation. 52 Wippel, The Metaphysical Thought of Thomas Aquinas, 379–575. 53 Ibid., 18. 54 Ibid., 54.

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chapter five reason about God. Thomas mentions our demonstration that God exists, and then points such as God’s uniqueness and unicity and other things of this kind. These, he explicitly states, are proved in philosophy and presupposed by faith.55

Much of the material in the Summa Theologiae I, q. 2, a. 3 on the existence of God is a reprise of the positions that Thomas had developed in many of his earlier writings.56 Still, it is also clear that there are several important new issues in what follows in the lengthy section of his text, namely from I, q. 3 to I, q. 26. In these twenty-three questions, some of the material is not philosophical (i.e., a preamble of faith) but clearly theological ( fides quaerens intellectum). In other words, from question two to question twenty-six, Thomas presents a formal Tractatus de Deo Uno, and only from question twenty-seven onward does he develop his formal Tractatus de Trinitate. Bonaventure would never divide the material on God in this manner. In the Franciscan tradition, there can be no discussion of constructing an entire section on God, De Deo, without at the same time focusing on De Deo Trino. In their respective theologies of God, Bonaventure and Thomas move in very different directions.57 A treatise on De Deo without including the Trinity has a major danger, namely a danger of presenting an image of God that is totally transcendent. In such a De Deo treatise, certain terms cumulatively move a person into an image of God who is totally unrelational. These terms are: the simplicity of God, the unique union of essence and esse 55

Ibid., 380–381. Ibid., 442. Wippel, however, notes “that in certain instances, at least, familiarity with some of Thomas’s most fundamental metaphysical options is presupposed” for an understanding of the text and that this applies to this part of the Summa Theologiae. With many references to Thomas’ earlier writings, Wippel analyzes in a careful way each of the five ways that Thomas developed as a “proof ” for the existence of God (442–500). Wippel makes a final observation by way of conclusion: “On a more positive note, however, I would conclude by observing that each of the five ways does contribute something to our understanding of God, although the different perspectives that they offer do not, of course, point to any real distinctions within God himself ” (499–500). By saying this, Wippel indicates that the trinitarian aspects of God are not issues in this first section of the Summa on De Deo. The Franciscan Tradition would not and does not move in this same direction. 57 The differences between The Dominican Intellectual Tradition and The Franciscan Intellectual Tradition begin in a very foundational way with the respective and differing approaches to a theology of God. Since one’s theology of God determines in a very substantial way the remainder of one’s theology, e.g., creation, Jesus, church and sacraments, etc., the differences between these two intellectual traditions has already been established in nuce by their differing theologies of God. 56


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in God, God as totally one and indivisible (maxime unum and maxime indivisum), the absolute perfection of God, God as infinite, God as immutable, God as eternal, God as incommunicable, etc.58 All of these terms imply that God is totally different from any finite and created being. By dividing his material into two sections: Tractatus de Deo uno and Tractatus de Deo trino, Thomas indicates that intellectually one can and should come to know something about the existence of God, as well as God’s oneness and unicity, etc., prior to any theological understanding of God as triune. The difficult issue lies in the segue from one unique God to a Trinitarian and relational God. It is clear that methodologically, Bonaventure and Thomas approach a theological study of God in totally different ways. For Bonaventure, God is Trinitarian and relational from the very start. For him, there is no point of departure other than the Trinitarian God. For Thomas, the relational trinitarian God is based on the unicity of God. However, if God, even philosophically, is one—indeed uniquely one—it becomes difficult to describe God in a relational or Trinitarian way.59 Uniqueness and absolute transcendental unicity by themselves require a reality with no essential relationship to anything else. In this approach, a scholar attempts to derive Trinity from the more fundamental unicity, but such a derivation is difficult to establish.

58 Thomas, ST I, q. 8, a. 1, presents a section entitled: De existentia Dei in rebus. In articulus primus, he even states: “Oportet quod Deus sit in omnibus rebus—et intime.” The presence of God is in all creatures due to God’s causality, that, for Thomas is the basis of God’s ubiquitous presence (see ST I, q. 8, a. 3, Respondeo).These issues are presented in his Tractatus de Deo Uno, not in his Tractatus de Trinitate. God as the one God is relational ad extra but primarily through an ad extra causality. 59 Wippel, 382, notes that, for Thomas, certain truths about God are known by human reason and that philosophers, guided by their natural reason, have arrived at such truths. These truths include the existence of God, God’s oneness, and God’s unicity. The trinity, however, is a truth that we know only by divine revelation. God as Trinity cannot be understood through natural reason alone. Wippel goes on to say, that God has also revealed “even those truths concerning himself that unaided human reason can establish.” Had God not revealed the truths to that human reason can attain by its own powers, then, according to Thomas, only a few highly intellectual people could reach a knowledge of God. Other people, who were not intellectually gifted, would have arrived at a natural knowledge of God only after time-consuming deliberation. Even then, there might be considerable falsity intermingled with their human understanding of God. This line of thinking is legitimate, to some extent, but it indicates that only those rational beings with acute intellects can truly know something about God. All other rational beings either have no ability to gain such knowledge or they remain in a situation that includes falsity. God’s revelation of God’s existence then is needed.

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Let us focus more precisely on Bonaventure’s Trinitarian theology itself. In doing this I will follow basically the structure of his Commentary and utilize the Quaestiones disputatae de mysterio trinitatis, the Breviloquium, the Itinerarium, and the Collationes in Haxaëmeron whenever these latter writings add or nuance the Commentary’s text. We have already noted that Bonaventure offers only a two-page response to the question: Utrum sit unus tantum Deus? In his reply, Bonaventure affirms the existence of only one God on the basis that God is simpliciter summum. In his brief response, he also restates the Anselmian argument: nihil maius Deo cogitari potest. In the Quaestiones disputatae de mysterio trinitatis, Bonaventure presents a fuller explanation. Instead of listing only six points in favor of his position (Commentary) he lists twenty-nine positions, and instead of only four points against his decision (Commentary) he lists fourteen positions.60 After these lengthy lists, Bonaventure states: Non est dubitabile, Deum esse, si dubitabile intelligitur aliquod verum, cui deficit ratio evidentiae sive in se, sive in comparatione ad medium probans, sive in comparatione ad intellectum apprehensivum.61

No other arguments are made. For Bonaventure the existence of God is a given. If someone doubts that God exists, Bonaventure immediately goes on to say that this doubting arises “from the viewpoint of the knower, namely, by reason of a deficiency in the acts of apprehending, judging, and reducing.”62 The God that Bonaventure is describing in this passage is not “the one God” but “the triune God.” Bonaventure never speaks of God without in some way including in the word God, either implicitly or explicitly,

60 In Bonaventure’s Quaestiones disputatae de mysterio Trinitatis, the format required by the university demanded that a professor take into account all the major pros and cons of a given “Quaestio.” Thus, a professor had to take into account all the major positions of various other contemporary professors. The formality of a Quaestio disputata was stringently set by university standards. In the Commentary on the Sentences, however, Bonaventure had more latitude to select only the main pros and cons that he wanted to discuss. Hereafter referred to as QD. 61 QD, q. 1, a. 1, Conclusio. Eng. trans. hereafter referred to as QD, 115. 62 Ibid. See also Sent. I, d. 3, a. 1, q. 1: “Utrum Deus sit congnoscibilis a creatura?” In his Respondeo, Bonaventure argues that God “in se tamquam summa lux est cognoscibilis.” Since God’s highest light shines into our intellect, God in se is “summe cognoscibilis etiam nobis.” Only our human deficiency makes God unknown and unknowable.


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the Trinitarian nature of God. However, Bonaventure makes it quite clear that the triune God surpasses human knowledge. Dicendum quod pluralitas personarum cum unitate essentiae est proprium divinae naturae solius, cuius simile nec reperitur in creatura nec potest reperiri nec rationaliter cogitari: ideo nullo modo trinitas personarum est cognoscibilis per creaturam, rationabiliter ascendendo a creatura in Deum.63

In this citation, we hear at least implicitly the same issue that Scotus mentioned in the citation at the beginning of this chapter, namely, the issue expressed by the term voluntarie. Unless the triune God reveals God’s own self to a creature, God remains unknowable and theology remains unintelligible. Bonaventure expresses this same understanding. God’s revelation of God’s own self is voluntary and free. In the Commentary on the Sentences Bonaventure begins his focused presentation on the Trinity with the question: Utrum in Deo ponenda sit personarum pluralitas.64 In the Respondeo, he uses as mentioned above the four terms that will dominate his understanding not only of God but more precisely of the Trinitarian God: simplicity (simplicitas), primacy (primitas), perfection (perfectio) and beatitude and charity (beatitudo et caritas). Together with bonum est sui diffusivum, the four ideas expressed above are the foundation for Bonaventure’s Trinitarian discussion. The very nature of God, he writes, is communicable (communicabilis) and powerful (potens). It is the source ( fons) of fullness for all emanations. God’s communication, power, productivity and fontal fullness occur voluntarily, that is, from God’s infinitely free will. One might ask: must God necessarily be a trinity? Bonaventure would shy away from any mechanistic necessitarianism. Rather, he would first ask: must God be loving? Even more pointedly, must God’s very being (ens) be bonum sui diffusivum? Since these two issues—being and self-diffusive goodness—are intrinsically conjoined in Bonaventure, his answer would indicate that such a Trinitarian God is indeed “necessary” even though such a God is infinitely free. Love comes from free will, and infinite love comes from an infinite free will. That God must be God does imply necessity, but the very essence of God in Bonaventure’s view is an infinitely voluntary diffusive goodness. Such an understanding

63 64

Sent., I, d. 3, a. 1, q. 4, Respondeo. Sent., I, d. 2, a. 1, q. 2, Respondeo.

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of God moves the discourse far beyond any necessitarian stance. In the Franciscan tradition, the will (voluntas) and the intellect (intellectus) dance together. The essence of Trinitarian relationality is infinite love and diffusive goodness, both of which come from an infinitely free will. Aristotle and Augustine considered the intellect and the will as the major faculties of a human person. Neither of these authors expressed an opinion on the question: is the intellect more important than the will or vice versa? In the west from Augustine down to the mid-thirteenth century, there had been no major discussion on the issue of superiority of intellect/will. Only in the middle of the thirteenth century do we begin to hear strong theological views of this issue.65 The early Franciscan scholars spoke more often of both intellect and will. From the fourteenth century onward, the discussion over the superiority of either will or intellect came to prominence, and the issue came to be regarded as a major Franciscan-Dominican disagreement. Let us resume our focus on the four terms of the Respondeo and consider each of them in detail. Primitas and Innascibilitas Bonaventure considers primitas and innascibilitas as synonyms.66 In Distinctio XXVIII, Bonaventure presents his position in a detailed way.67 In the first Quaestio of this distinction, he asks: Utrum nomen ingenitus sive innascibilis secundum substantiam vel relationam dicatur? The very wording of this question should be noted: the substance of God indicates the esse or nature of God and relationship indicates an esse ad in God. Apparently, the issue was at that period of time a matter of theological discussion, since he notes that there are three different views on the subject, and also that there are three different understandings of ingenitus. Bonaventure’s own position, consequently, is a theological one and not one that involves anything de fide.

65 In many ways, it was Thomas Aquinas who theologically stressed the position that the intellect was superior to the will and thereby brought the debate to center stage. For a history of the intellect-will debate, see Sylwanowicz, Contingent Causality and the Foundations of Duns Scotus’ Metaphysics, “The Idea of the Will: Some Backgrounds,” 41–56. 66 Sent. I, d. 2, a. 1, q. 2, Respondeo: “Et voco hic primitatem innascibilitatem, ratione cuius, ut dicit antiqua opinio, est fontalis in Patre ad omnem emanationem.” 67 Sent., 1, d. 28, a. 1, Titulus: “De innascibilitate et improcessibilitate.” For a fuller explanation see ibid., qq. 1, 2 and 3.


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The first understanding of ingenitus exclusively presents something negative: ingenitus means not-begotten. Pure negation by itself, Bonaventure concludes, has no distinguishing or noble qualification. Thus, to describe God as ingenitus with this first understanding in mind does not present an image of God that is positive. The second understanding of ingenitus argues that ingenitus does present something positive since “privando unam ponit aliam.” The focus of this argument is that a privation of one aspect implies the placing (ponit) of another aspect. In this view, there is both a privando and a ponendo. The opposite of ingenitus is non-genitor. This is the privando aspect. Bonaventure asks what is the “other aspect” in the phrase “ponit aliam”? Bonaventure’s response to this understanding is that non-generare does not automatically refer to a positive other. Nongenerare does not of itself imply that the possibility of the generation of “another” is simply a possibility with no clear connection to a “ponit aliam.” The second interpretation of ingenitus is again only a privation. Openness to “another,” ponendo aliam, has no specificity. The third understanding of ingenitus states that there is something privative and something positive: privative because of its negative origin (looking backward) and positive (looking forward) because of its primitas. By linking innascibilitas or ingenitus to primitas Bonaventure argues that there is more than an implication of “another” (privando unam ponit aliam) since primitas cannot be understood at all unless there is more than an implication of a secunditas. Even though there may not as yet exist a secunditas, primitas cannot be understood without some sort of secunditas. Ingenitus, on the other hand, can be understood without a genitus. With certain qualifications, Bonaventure in the epilogus of this distinction makes this view his own position, and he does so because innascibilitas or ingenitus is connected to primitas. Bonaventure explains his position by stating that the term ingenitus involves the following: ingenitus means not-generated and therefore has no order or relation. It is extra genus and is simply negative. However, ingenitus does have an in genere meaning since it has a substrate relation (relationem substratam) and thereby it expresses a positive nobility. Ingenitus can mean that something has a relationship but in this case the relationship is not to a principle, that is, to something prior to ingenitus. His conclusion is this: “Non generari enim dicitur qui simpliciter non-generatur; et sic convenit non tantum Patri, sed essentiae et Spiritui Sancto.” The Son is not included here because the Son is generated.

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However, what needs to be noted is that Bonaventure indicates a basic simplicitas that includes non-generatur and it applies to the divine essence (sed essentiae). This sentence: “convenit non tantum Patri, sed essentiae” is crucial. From this essential base of ingenitus one can go to the ingenitus Pater. Without this essential ingenitus based in God’s nature, there would be no ingenitus Pater. Essentia ingenita provides the basis for an ingenitus Pater not vice versa. Bonaventure argues that innascibilitas means: nullo modo esse ab alio.68 However, even though this is stated in a negative way, the primitas aspect of innascibilitas gives it a positive value, since primitas is a plenitudo fontalis.69 Bonaventure concludes by saying: “et ita, in principali intellectu dicit relationem privative, ex consequenti positive; et ita non dicit negationem quae nihil ponit.”70 What a masterful way of describing primitas/innascibilitas. Since there is no principium, one might think that the relationship is merely negative, that is, not begotten. On the other hand since the unbegotteness is also a primitas or a fontal fullness, there is and continues to be an overwhelming positivity. If innascibilitas were only backward looking—and how can one even describe such a backward consideration for an eternal principle—one sees only negativity; but when one looks forward to what this primal fountain of fullness produces in an infinite way there is divine positivity. Ingenitus and bonitas est sui diffusivum are here intrinsically united. Moreover, this forward-looking view of productivity (sui diffusivum) goes far beyond any form of causality. Bonaventure discusses the threefold causality (efficient, exemplary, and final), but, as Hayes notes, “Bonaventure’s reflection on the structure of created realities searches out Trinitarian reflections at ever deeper levels.”71 Can we say that goodness, or more accurately stated bonitas ingenita et voluntaria can be restricted to the causal ways of created existence? Are we not referring to an infinite bonitas ingenita et voluntaria that is of its very being sui diffusivum in a way that is at one and the same time ingenita et voluntaria. These deeper levels are due to the very nature of God as a relational nature.72

68

Sent., I, d. 28, a. 1, q. 1, Respondeo, final paragraph. See Hayes, MT, 57. In this section Hayes speaks of the internal emanations that are all positive. 70 Sent., I, d. 28, a. 1, q. 1, Respondeo, final paragraph. 71 Hayes, MT, 75. Cf. QD, q. 8, ad 7. 72 Sent., I, d. 28, a. 1, q. 1, Respondeo. 69


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In Quaestio II, Bonaventure compares the naming of Father to innascibility: Utrum innascibilitas et paternitas important eandem relationem? Once again, his focus is on the relational nature of God. He does not call innascibilitas and paternitas synonyms. On the one hand, innascibilitas looks backward in a negative way, that is, to no beginning (principium). On the other hand, paternitas looks forward in a positive way ( filiatio). In both cases, the underlying divine reality is a relational reality.73 Simplicitas For Bonaventure, the essence of simplicity is communicability (communicabilis) and power (potens).74 In Distinctio XXXI, Quaestio 2, Bonaventure asks: “Utrum aequalitas et similitudo in divinis dicantur secundum substantiam, an secundum relationem?”75 Once again, Bonaventure raises the issue of relationality. In his Respondeo he notes that both similitude (similitudo) and equality (aequalitas) in some manner refer to the nature of God itself, and in another manner they are relational. He goes on to say: “proprie et principaliter secundum relationem ex consequenti et causaliter secundum substantiam.”76 This dual aspect, he notes, had been presented by theologians in three different ways. Bonaventure concludes that the nature of God is more than being merely a first efficient/final cause or first principle, and he states the reason for this: God the Father does not cause either the Son or the Spirit. Non-causal productivity in God indicates something far more profound than causality. Nor does production only refer to creation, which is finite, contingent, and temporal. Relationality is intrinsic to God’s nature in ways that cannot be explained by causality and creation, but they can be considered through the infinite fontalis plenitudo of summum ens. The intensive role of non-causal and non-creative productivity is unique to Bonaventure’s Trinitarian theology. In Distinctio VIII, which deals with the simplicity of God, Bonaventure’s Respondeo is one sentence: “In Deo ponenda est summa

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Sent., I, d. 28, a. 1, q. 2, Respondeo. Sent. I, d. 2, a. 1, q. 2, Respondeo. 75 Sent. I, d. 31, p. 1, a. 1, q. 2. One might also note that in Distinctio 30, a. 1, q. 3, the issue of relationality and God’s nature is mentioned as regards created nature. 76 Sent., I, d. 31, p. 1, a. 1, q. 2, Respondeo. 74

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simplicitas.” He adds however in his remarks on those who have presented objections, the following argument: Ubi summa simplicitas intelligitur, oportet summam actualitatem intelligi, si summe nobilis est. Et ubi est summa actualitas, summa diffusio et communicatio debet poni.77

Simplicity, for Bonaventure, means supreme actuality, and supreme actuality includes supreme diffusion and communication, and all of these terms are relational. He concludes: “Ergo non potest intelligi divina essentia simplicissima, nisi in tribus personis intelligatur tota esse, quarum una sit ab alia.”78 Bonaventure does not come out and say explicitly that ens is in se relational, but all the pieces for saying this are in place. Ens is diffisivum sui. He says this indirectly since God, esse ipsum is diffusivum. If esse ipsum is diffusivum, then are not all other entia also diffusiva? Perfectio Prompta et Apta Bonaventure, like other thirteenth century theologians, writes about God as the most perfect being of all. He notes that in Aristotle’s Metaphysics the philosopher states: “Intelligibile est perfectio intellectus.”79 Whenever one understands something, the mind is perfected. However, Bonaventure argues that Aristotle is thinking of something outside the human intellect. A finite creature is therefore perfected by something beyond its own finiteness. But in God perfection does not come from anything outside of God.80 God is perfect, a se and not ab alio.81 In another place, Bonaventure cites John Damascene: “Deus est ‘quoddam pelagus substantiae infinitum’.”82 The word pelagus, in Greek πελαγος, means sea, and for Bonaventure this sea is an infinite fons perfectionis. Bonitas, however, is his primary theological understanding of God. God is an infinite sea of loving goodness, and this infinite sea of loving

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Sent. I, d. 8, p. 2, q. 1, Respondeo ad 1. Sent. I, d. 8, p. 2, q. 1, Respondeo ad 1. 79 Aristotle, Metaphysics, XI, 9. 80 Sent., I, d. 39, a. 1, q. 1, Sed contra 1. 81 Ibid., in Respondeo. 82 John Damascene, Liber I De Fide orthodoxa, c. 9; Bonaventure, Sent., I, d. 43, a. 1, q. 2, Respondeo. He repeats the reference to pelagus in Sent. I, d. 45, a. 2, q. 1, Respondeo: “Divina essentia . . . est pelagus substantiae infinitum.” 78


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goodness is infinite perfection. Perfect love is therefore immediately present (prompta) and readily available (apta). In God, this immediacy is the eternal and never failing Bonitas est sui diffusivum, which is the basis for the never failing relationship of Trinitarian love. The very being of God is perfect goodness that is both apta and prompta, and both of these adjectives are relational terms. When one hears apta, the immediate question is apta for what? When one hears prompta, the immediate question is prompta for whom? The fundamental answer to these questions is the relationship of Trinitarian love. Beatitudo et Caritas Although Bonaventure’s theology of trinity revolves around the divine realities of simplicity, primacy-innascibility, and perfection, it is his explanation of divine beatitudo et caritas that makes his approach to the Trinity radically new. In his understanding of God as bonitas est sui diffusivum, we see most clearly how he moves away from Augustine’s and Richard’s Trinitarian theology, and is also parting company with Thomas Aquinas’ Trinitarian theology that is basically Augustinian.83 In Bonaventure’s Trinitarian theology, loving goodness is not a noun but a verb: God loves eternally, infinitely and relationally.84 Causality in God, he writes, is attributed to God’s will, because of bonitas, namely, bonum est sui diffusivum. Emanation in God is also attributed to God’s will which is bonum sui diffusivum. One sees this both in the divine will’s action and in its effects.85 The divine will is not only powerful it is universalissima and actualissima.86 These four characteristics, primitas or innascibilitas, simplicitas, perfectio prompta et apta, and beatitudo et caritas, appear at crucial moments as Bonaventure continues his theological presentation of a Trinitarian God. In the next section, I will focus on his presentation of

83 For the relationship of Aquinas to Augustine, see Anselm Min, Paths to the Triune God, 125, 126, 170, 171, and 174. Also, Hunt, Trinity, 20–23. 84 See Sent., I, d. 45, a. 1, q. 1: Bonaventure provides four reasons why God has a will: potestas, voluptas, aequitas, and liberalitas “quae sunt circa voluntatem; et magis prorprie in Deo et completiori modo quam in nobis.” See also Sent., I, d. 45, a. 1, q. 2, Respondeo. 85 Sent., I, d. 45, a. 2, q 1, Respondeo. 86 Sent., I, d. 45, a. 2, q. 2, Conclusio. The generation of the Son involves both ratio and voluntas; see Sent., I, d. 6, a. 1, qq. 1–3.

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the three persons, but I will indicate that he does not base his theology of the three persons on an analysis of the following two issues: 1. On the meaning of person or hypostasis—persona or προσωπον or υποστασις; 2. Or on the precise names of Father, Son-Logos, and Spirit. Bonaventure clearly uses these terms, but he does not base his theological argument on a definition of person, whether the definition comes from Boethius, Richard of St. Victor, or Alexander of Hales. Nor does he base his theological argument on an analysis of paternity, filiation, and spiration. One can find all of these theological issues both in his Commentary on the Sentences and his other writings on the Trinity. What is amazing and unique, however, is his constant return to the very nature of God and to the four characteristics of primitas or innascibilitas, simplicitas, perfectio prompta et apta, and beatitudo et caritas. Before we focus directly on Bonaventure’s theology of the three persons, let us turn to a detailed presentation on the issue of relationship. On the one hand, both relationality and communicability are multi-dimensional terms. On the other hand, absolute solitude and transcendence are per se non-relational and non-communicable. If the very nature of God is understood through terms such as absolute simplicity and absolute unicity, then there is a total disconnection between God and everything else, since ab-solvere means absolute or freed from. In such an understanding, the very nature of God becomes non-relational or freed from all connection to a created world. The Franciscan Intellectual Tradition does not move in this direction. Rather, the tradition maintains that God’s very nature in and of itself is relational. In my view, Bonaventure, at least indirectly, has led the way on this issue of a relational understanding of God. Nowhere does Bonaventure say that being is a relational term. However, his theology leads in this direction. I base my argument for this conclusion in the following paragraphs. In Aristotelian language, the definition of a relationship is προς τον (esse ad) that means a “being to”. In this definition, ens and esse have a “to-ness” or a “towardness—(the Latin “ad”—the Greek “προς”). Towardness in itself is, in Aristotle’s approach, neither a substance, nor a quantity, nor a quality. For Aristotle, relationship is a fourth predicamental category. In Aristotle’s Metaphysics we read:


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Relative terms that imply number or potency, therefore, are all relative because their very essence includes in its nature a reference to it; but that which is measurable or knowable or thinkable is called relative because something else involves a reference to it. For that which is thinkable implies that the thought of it is possible, but the thought is not relative to “that of which it is the thought”; for we should then have said the same thing twice.87

In the Categories, Aristotle says the same thing more succinctly: “Those things are called relative, that, being either said to be of something else or related to something else, are explained by reference to that other thing.”88 The phrase, “explained by reference to,” is in Aristotle’s philosophy a way of saying predicamental. Predicamental means that some things can be “explained by themselves” (substance), or “explained by their accidentality to/in a substance” (quantity and quality), or “explained by their reference to” (relation). A relationship, in Aristotle, is certainly not a substance. Nor is it a quantity or a quality. The modification expressed by “reference to” is neither quantitative such as smallness, nor qualitative such as whiteness. For Aristotle, towardness or relationality is in a category by itself, but relationship has meaning and only exists when it is referential. This implies that a relationship has meaning only when that to which it relates—an x—is clear. In some instances, a relationship intrinsically is “referred to” essence, ens and esse. In the Metaphysics, Aristotle expounds on three kinds of relation: numerical relationship, activepassive relationship, and measureable or knowable or thinkable relationships.89 However, in a later chapter of the Metaphysics, Aristotle notes the following: For everything that changes is something and is changed by something and into something. That by which it is changed is the immediate mover; that which is changed, the matter; that into which it is changed, the form.90

In the paragraphs after this, Aristotle focuses on the eternal forms of Plato, a theory that he rejects, and then turns his attention to his own 87 88 89 90

Aristotle, Metaphysics, B. 5, c. 15, 1021. Aristotle, Categories, c. 7. Aristotle, Metaphysics, 5, 15. Ibid., 12, 3.

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position regarding an eternal mover. The eternal or unmovable mover is presented in the following way: The first mover, then, exists of necessity; and in so far as it exists by necessity, its mode of being is good, and it is in this sense a first principle. We say therefore that God is a living being, eternal, most good, so that life and duration continuous and eternal belong to God; for this is God. It is clear, then, that from what has been said that there is a substance that is eternal and unmovable and separate from sensible things.91

In Aristotle’s presentation of God, God is not relational, since for Aristotle relation indicates change. Almost all of the medieval scholars from the twelfth century onward, if they moved in an Aristotelian rather than in a Platonic way, accepted Aristotle’s philosophical understanding of God as the immovable first mover. Christian theologians spoke of God’s immutability, which means that God is non-relational. Relational being is also, for Aristotle, the opposite of substantive being, which is defined as a being without reference to anything else. By itself, substantive being has no necessary “towardness.” Rational animal, which is Aristotle’s definition of a human being, needs no clarification by a reference to a single individual person. Individuality does not, in the Aristotelian format, change the substantive rational animal. Rational animal is a universal substantive regardless of individuality, spatiality, temporality, etc. In its essential sense, relationship is communicable and diffusive, that is, by its very nature a relationship tends to something. However, a primal form of relationship involves more than simply the dyad of an A and a B. Rather, on the one hand, there is a towardness that can be symbolized as A→ad. On the other hand, there is a different towardness that can be symbolized as B→ad. The arrow → transliterates Aristotle’s προς τον (esse ad). But even in this diagram of the equation, A→ad and B→ad, a primal relationship is not yet existent. A third issue is needed so that there can be co-relation. This third issue is reciprocity and can be codified as: A↔B and B↔A. Only in an interrelated junction of reciprocity, A↔B, can we begin to understand the depth of a relational being. Thus, we begin with a dyad, A and B, but a relationship does not simply involve two realities. A relationship denotes first of all a towardness, namely that A relates 91

Ibid., 12, 7.


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to B: A→ad. Similarly, B relates to A: B→ad. A relation, however, occurs only when the two arrows “→ and ←” meet ↔ together. The double arrow ↔ indicates a basic reciprocity. However, even with this mutual reciprocity, we are still not at a full understanding of the term relationship. The point or depth at which A→ and ←B coincide indicates the actual status of a relationship. There is a level of interconnection that provides the third essential element in a relationship. One finds this third element at work in the area of human love. A man might love a woman deeply, but the woman may not love him with such depth. Their actual relationship is not at the depth the man expects, but only at the level to which the woman responds. In physics, a word which is often used is “attractor.” Sub-atomic particles are actualities that possess the mechanism of attractor, so that another electron, meson, neutron, etc., is drawn to the attractor-electron, meson, etc. and eventually leaves its original base and joins the attracting electron, etc. This field of attractor, nonetheless, is not mono-directional. The attracting electron in itself is attracting another electron because it senses in some way that the other electron will benefit its own self if a new relationship takes place. In other words, the attractor electron is not selfless in its attracting. A relationship benefits the attractor electron just as it may simultaneously benefit the attracted electron. Electrons, mesons, etc. are also seeking out an attractor. An electron may be part of a molecule but at the very same time it is “open” to move to another molecular structure. This interplay of electrons, mesons, etc. may not be merely mechanical. In some instances, the formation of a relational bond can certainly be classified as mechanical. However, even before an external attractor draws on a given electron, the given electron already has in itself a dynamic openness to an outside attractee that is also in itself an attractor to the first mentioned electron itself. Attractors also have levels of reciprocity. Interestingly enough, physics seems to indicate that at the smallest area of the microcosm, for instance the neutrino, and at the largest area of the macrocosm, for instance a solar system, there is an ever-present interrelating activity, power, or energy, and not simply a blob of inert mass. The power of a black hole is enormous, but so too is the power of a neutrino. Size alone is not the gauge for the intensity of power. Attractors are power, activity, and energy, and they indicate that we live in a highly inter-related universe. Our entire body is a configuration of energy, power, and activity. In this view, the entire world we live in

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is relational to the core and therefore it is also a constantly changing universe. Although the physical world and its examples help us to understand the non-physical world, the description above only goes so far. Generally speaking, the attractor complex is to some degree mechanistic.92 Freedom as understood in the term “human freedom,” is not a part of the electron-existence as attractor and attractee. In human life, however, one person is attracted to another, and therefore a human person could be referred to as an attractor or attractee. But the attraction is neither mono-directional nor mechanistic. The attractor or attractee human does indeed focus on another human being, but one does so because there is something in the other’s presence that will hopefully benefit the attractor him/herself. The attractor human is able to seek out some benefit in a free way, and one’s free will is not mechanistically operative. In this perspective, unselfish love is, in actuality, not abundantly actual. One would never love another, if one did not sense that in loving the other the lover would enrich his or her own self. Self-love is a major power in human life. In the gospels Jesus says: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself ” Αγαπήσεις τòν πλησίον σου ως σεαυτόν (MT 22, 39). Self-loving is a basic part of human life, and although we love others, we also exist as loving ourselves. Internal communicability and relationship is expressed in this loving of our neighbor by the phrase: as “we love ourselves.” Intrinsically, that is, in our being—ens, essentia and esse—we are relational. We love ourselves and this is already a relationship. The phrase: I love myself, could be diagrammed as A↔B. The self as loving and the self as loved make sense only if the use of the word self is not tautological. Parmenides once wrote: being is being. In Heidegger’s hermeneutical analysis of this famous phrase, he dismisses any tautology on the part of Parmenides.93 In the phrase, being is being, beinga and beingb do not, in Heidegger’s interpretation, refer to one another in an identical way. Beinga and beingb have an interrelational connection but the meaning

92 Alfred North Whitehead, Process and Reality. An Essay in Cosmology (New York: Harper & Row, 1960); Adventures in Ideas (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1938); and Nature and Life (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1934). 93 Heidegger, Identität und Differenz (Pfullingen, Verlag Günther Neske, 1957) reprinted in Indentity and Difference (New York: Harper & Row, 1969), Eng. trans. by Joan Stambaugh. Cf. German text 85–106; English text 23–41.


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of the first use of being—beinga—differs from that of the second use of being—beingb. The same could be applied to the term self in the phrase: one must love one’s self. Here, too, there is a self-onea and a self-oneb. This is possible only if our own human nature—human ens, essentia and esse—is intrinsically relational. Because human beings are intrinsically relational in a free way, they are also capable of being extrinsically relational in a free way. Human beings are not monads so that a relationship with another human being is simply “added.” The above philosophically-oriented paragraphs may appear to the reader as a strange digression from the main theme. However, in my judgement, all of the above formulations on relationship help us understand Bonaventure’s relational terms primitas or innascibilitas, simplicitas, perfectio prompta et apta, and beatitudo et caritas. When one considers the doctrine of the Trinity, language is both a help and a hindrance. In the Franciscan approach to the Trinity—and Bonaventure’s position exemplifies this—God is foundationally relational. This is similar to what was just mentioned. Human nature is basically relational, since a human being loves him/herself. Self-love implies an internal relationship. Likewise, God’s self-love implies an internal relationship. Internal or intrinsic relationship implies some sort of multiplicity: an a1 and an a2. The a1 is related intrinsically to the a2. How can our human language express both the a1 and the a2, and at the same time maintain an internal or intrinsic unity? Such a question is even more problematic when infinity and freedom are part of the equation. In the writings of Bonaventure, there is a profound relationship between Christology and Trinitarian theology. No one can study the rise of Trinitarian thought in the Christian Church unless one also studies its historical origin and development. The doctrine of the Trinity developed in the first seven centuries alongside the development of christological issues. A theology of a Trinitarian God can only be understood when it is contextualized by the christological debates of the first seven centuries. In those centuries, the basic question was fundamentally a Jesus-question not a Trinitarian question, namely: how can one say that Jesus is truly human and at the same time truly divine? The theological response to this question occasioned the development of a Trinitarian doctrine of God. Throughout those early centuries, an interrelationship of christology and Trinitarian theology mutually influenced one another. It is necessary to keep in mind the dynamics of these early historical and theological discussions that were both

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christological and Trinitarian. Without the Jesus-question, there would never have been a God-as-Trinity question. In the thirteenth century, the western theological formulations of Trinity centered around the notion of divine simplicity or unicity, on the one hand, and a triune relationality of persons, on the other hand. None of the medieval theologians took issue with the reality of Trinity. For a Christian believer, God was triune. Richard of St. Victor, Thomas Aquinas, Bonaventure, John Duns Scotus, plus many other scholars of that period of time, produced various theologies of the Trinitarian God. What we find in these medieval authors are theological descriptions of the Trinity. None of these theological descriptions are de fide. Remarkably, Bonaventure’s theology of a Trinitarian God does not center on paternity, filiation, and spiration. Rather, Bonaventure bases his Trinitarian theology on bonum est sui diffusivum, primitas, simplicitas, perfectio, and beatitudo et caritas.94 More than any of his cotheologians of the thirteenth century, Bonaventure utilized the Eastern theology of John Damascene and Dionysius. Iammarone describes Bonventure’s situation in unequivocal terms: Penetrando a fondo en la naturaleza del ser divino conocido por la revelación, Buenaventura sostiene que es vida de relación-amor-unidad-ypluralidad bajo un aspecto diferente. La revelación del misterio trinitario nos enseña que el ser esencialmente es ser-con, existir-con, correlación. En Dios, es decir, en el ser puro, se dan con el mismo derecho tanto la categoría (modo de ser) de la unidad o sustancia como la categoría de la relación o pluralidad. La categoría de la relación forma parte de la estructura metafísica del ser divino: Dios es unidad en el orden de la sustancia o esencia, pero es simultáneamente relación, y, por tanto, pluralidad o Trinidad en el orden de la persona.95

For Bonaventure, God is not first of all being and then secondarily “Trinitarian.” Nor is God for Bonaventure first of all a trinity and therefore relational. The essence and esse of God is simultaneously a relational ens and a relational esse. God’s relational esse is God’s relational essence and vice versa. Iammarone’s wording is forceful: ser94 See Sent., I., d. 2, a. 1, q. 4, in that the Sed Contra enumerates one by one, each of these four characteristics of God. He uses the same terms in his Respondeo to Quaestio IV. 95 Iammorrone, 85–86. He entitles the entire section, 76 to 88: “La estructura de la vida trinitaria como amor.” On the basis of God as love, does he then turn to “La estructura de las personas,” 88–92. See Sent., I, a. 1, d. 2, q. 2, Respondeo, footnote 2: “Mox post caritatis additur in Vat. eadem essentia divina est.” The essence of God is love, and love is relational, therefore God’s essence is relational.


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con, existir-con, correlación. Iammarrone is saying clearly that being is being-with. God’s very being is relational. In chapter three, the term infinite was presented through the use of a diagram: Infinite ← ________________________________________ → Infinite

It was mentioned that infinite in many ways was a negative term: that is, not limited or not finite. If one refers to God as infinite, the immediate question arises: infinite what? Some what-factor or x-factor is hermeneutically needed to give a positive interpretation of this term. For Bonaventure the positive factor involves: bonum est sui diffusivum, simplicitas, primitas, perfectio and beatitudo-caritas. In other words, through these terms Bonaventure is focusing on infinite relationality. His meaning is not merely simplicitas, but relational simplictas. It is not merely primitas but relational primitas. The same can be said for relational perfectio and relational beatitudo-caritas. All of these goodnesses are diffusive of themselves and therefore they are all relational. In many ways, the term relational in Bonaventure’s theology of God means the same as bonum est sui diffusivum. Bonaventure seems to find no problem in implying that God’s essence and esse are a relational essence-esse. Moreover, such relationality is infinite. Both relational primitas and its synonym relational innascibilitas are durationally and ontologically infinite. So, too, are simplicitas, perfectio and beatitudocaritas. All of these constitute the “X” that Bonaventure would place on the line of infinity in the above diagram. Infinite ← ____________________X____________________ → Infinite

In his lengthy introduction of Bonaventure’s Disputed Questions on the Mystery of the Trinity, Hayes indicates a basic problematic for all Trinitarian thought: If God is necessary being, then there should be a necessary relation between the unity of His essence and the trinity of persons. If the necessary attributes of being accessible to reason are necessary attributes of God, then there ought to be some rational connection between these attributes and the mystery of the trinity.96

96

Hayes, Disputed Questions on the Mystery of the Trinity, 28.

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The issue of the one and the three has been central to Trinitarian thought. In the following pages, my focus and argument centers on the following two basic themes, the unity of God’s essence and the three persons in God. How did Bonaventure understand these two phrases? The Unity of God’s Essence In Bonaventure, I will argue, that the essence of God is primordially relational and therefore the unity of God is not “a static, monadic being, but is to be conceived more as a unifying power that, in the unity of the divine fecundity, produces a plurality without multiplying the nature.”97 In western thought, the unity of God has generally focused on God’s essence, ens and esse. The word being in one of its forms establishes unity. In Bonaventure’s approach, it is my conclusion that he has changed the western understanding of being itself, esse ipsum. Being itself is relational, and the relationality of esse ipsum is coextensive and cointensive with plurality. In other words, the Esse Supremum (God) is intrinsically relational. Consequently, one cannot think of any form of being that is not relational, for if the Esse Supremum is relational, then all other forms of esse are also relational. Created ens and esse are also relational. Aristotle would certainly not think this way. For Aristotle, ens and esse are not intrinisically relational. Nowhere does Bonaventure claim that he is reinterpreting the meaning of being. However, whether he says it expressly or not, it is my conclusion that he has done so in an implicit way. One cannot identify ens and bonum est sui diffusivum, which Bonaventure clearly does, without reinterpreting the very meaning of being that pervades the western episteme. The Three Persons in God Secondly, I argue that the “three person” issue of the Trinity in Bonaventure takes on some of the major characteristics of the discussion that one finds in Scotus’ elaboration of individuality or haecceitas. In individuality, Scotus does not accept a principium individuationis. Rarely, does Scotus use the phrase, “a principle of individuation.” Such a general principle, which would be objectively operative in all individuals, denies the very understanding of individuality. If unique-

97

Ibid., 36.


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ness is coextensive with individuality, then any over-arching principle contradicts the very meaning of individuality. A principle generalizes, while haecceitas individualizes. The two cannot be correlated. One finds a similar searching by many Christian theologians in their presentations of the three persons in God. What unites them? Why are there only three? If there is a principle that unites them, then the very over-arching principle denies basic individuality. In this kind of argumentation, there would be an over-arching “X-factor” that one finds incorporating the Father, Son and Spirit. There must be something, so it is argued, that both unites the three persons and at the same time makes each person individually divine. This common “something” would act like a principle of divinization. All three persons can be called God through this principle of divinization. In other words, a principle of divinization acts in the same way that a principle of individuation supposedly acts. Both principles act uniformly whether the action is on the Three Divine Persons or on the plurality of individuals. Such a principle actually denies the Trinity, just as a principle of individuation denies individuality. The oneness and unity of God is primary; a trinity of persons is an “add on” to the foundational oneness. Such a view is not acceptable to both Bonaventure and Scotus. Bonaventure’s approach to ens implies that there is no ens that is not in itself relational (bonum est sui diffusivum). Essential relationality is the basis for eventual (not causal) triune plurality. Essential relationality can be causal, but only in the sphere of creation. Hayes expresses this as follows: The causality of the creative principle is threefold, for it must act from itself (efficient cause), in accordance with itself (exemplary cause), and because of itself (final cause).98

God’s unity, however, is neither the cause nor first principle for the trinity. Nor is the trinity the cause or the first principle of God’s unity. It might be better if the two terms, cause and first principle, would be removed from the table of Trinitarian discourse. If this occurred, then essential relationality becomes clearer. Essential relationality, in God, is neither a first principle or a first cause. In God, paternity or innascibilitas does not stem from a first principle; in God neither a processio

98

2, 1.

Hayes, MT, 62. Hayes is simply paraphrasing Bonaventure; see Breviloquium,

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naturae nor a processio liberalitatis stem from a first principle. Rather, infinite essential relationality includes infinite innascibilitas, infinite processio naturae and infinite processio liberalitatis. With the addition of the word infinite to these three phrases, one sees that the one God is and can only be a relational God. If God is intrinsically infinite, then there can be nothing outside of an infinite God. If God is infinitely relational, then relationality is infinite in God since there is nothing beyond an infinite God. The unique and one God is infiinitely bonum sui diffusivum, and bonum sui diffusivum is itself the one, unique, and infinite God. Whether we speak of durational or metaphysical infinity, expressions such as first-second, cause-caused, and principle-principled are meaningless as far as a discussion on God’s nature is concerned. Because God is infinitely free, bonum est sui diffusivum not only includes innascibilitas and processio naturae, but also processio liberalitatis. There is in Bonaventure an ens-bonum interconnection that involves from all eternity innascibilitas, processio naturae and processio liberalitatis. These last three terms simply try to describe more closely what bonum est sui diffusivum means and what Ens Supremum means. A triangle is a triangle: Δ = Δ. Take one angle away and there is no triangle at all. The same with God who is relational ens. Take relationality out of ens and there is no ens. Take relationality out of bonum est sui diffusivum and there is no bonum est sui diffusivum. So, too, if there is a removal of innascibilitas, there is no processio naturae and processio liberalitatis; remove processio naturae and there is no innascibilitas and processio liberalitatis; remove processio liberalitatis and there is no innascibilitas and processio naturae. Moreover, with the removal of any one of these three issues, there is no Ens Supremum, which means there is no being (ens) at all. In Quaestio IV of Distinctio IV, Bonaventure considers the issue whether the generation of the Son is terminated: Utrum generatio Filii terminata sit? In his Respondeo, he concludes: Omnino idem est in ipso nasci et natum esse; et ideo semper nascitur et semper est natus et semper est, nec unquam desinit nec cessat generari, nec Pater generare.99 99

Sent., I, d. 9, a. 1, q. 4, Respondeo. Iammarrone, 93–94 argues in a different way. He indicates that nascibilitas precedes actual generatio. The view that the Father should be referred to in an active and ongoing way—begetting—rather than in a past-tense way—begotten—was an issue of theological discussion at the time of Bonaventure. In


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Bonaventure is explaining why there are a Father and a Son in the Trinity, and he does this by stating that there is an eternal, infinite generating and generation (semper nascitur—semper est natus). The generation of the Son is an eternal and infinitely relational action. Notice that Bonaventure does not argue for the trinity on the basis of person. Nor does he argue simply on the basis of generation. Rather, Bonaventure is arguing his position from an eternal and infinite presence of generation. The relationality of bonum est sui diffusivum is the basis for generating and generation. This referencing to relationality as the basis for a triune personal God appears frequently throughout Liber I of his Commentary on the Sentences. In the Commentary, Bonaventure takes up the question of the Holy Spirit: Utrum in divinis ponenda sit persona procedens per modum liberalitatis?100 In his Respondeo, Bonaventure refers to this third person as “donum” a gift that is perfectio dilectionis, perfectio emanationis and perfectio voluntatis. He continues: Qua existente liberalissima, non potest non producere personam, sicut natura, existente fecundissima, non potest non producere personam.101

God’s nature is fecundissima and God’s will is liberalissima. Consequently, there is a “Son” and a “Spirit.” The terms themselves, Father, Son and Spirit, do not provide Bonaventure with the basis for the Trinity. Rather, the very essence of God provides the basis for Trinity, namely an essence that in its nature is fecundissima and a will that in its nature is liberalissima. A bonum est sui diffusivum is fecundissimum and liberalissimum. In moving in this direction, Bonaventure is far from an AugustinianThomas Aquinas theology of Trinity. It is the relational nature of God itself that produces another person ex se, because God’s nature is fontal fullness, fecundissima. It is the relational love or will of God that is liberalissima and therefore internally and externally productive. In all of this we hear relation, relation, and relation. This can be seen in Distinction XXIV, Quaestio II, that reads: Utrum nomina numeralia in divinis secundum substantiam, an secundum relationem dicantur? In

other words, is God always begetting and the Son always being begotten? This approach explains why there was hesitation to argue that the Father is principium sine principio and then argue for a distinction between nascibilitas and generatio. 100 Sent., I, d. 10, a. 1, q. 1, title of question. 101 Ibid., Respondeo.

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his Respondeo he states that his preference is for relation rather than substance.102 Father, Son, and Spirit are acceptable names for these relational entities, but the names are not the reason for the Trinity. When Bonaventure provides his theological explanation why the procession of the Spirit differs from the generation of the Son in Distinctio XIII, he states clearly that relation makes the difference: Termini enim sunt personae, quae non important ratione differendi active, sed passive. Si ergo personae differunt: Quibus? Et necesse est redire ad emanationes et relationes, quae sunt generatio et processio.103

He notes that there could be an unending circle of arguments if one just remains at this level. He goes on to state his position as clearly as possible: Unde ratio, quare huiusmodi vere sunt in Deo, est vera fecunditas naturae et voluntatis.104

Why does a human person love him/herself? The reason is in one’s very nature and one’s will. Why does God love? The reason lies in God’s own self. It is in God’s nature and will to love God’s own self. In human life, the self that loves one’s self can be described as self 1 and the love of self is self 2. However, self 1 is not identical with self 2. Unity and plurality are evident even in human life. Unity and plurality are likewise abundantly evident in the divine life. Since a human person is not triune, why is God triune? Bonaventure’s answer would be: “Deus est fecundissimus in natura, et liberalissimus in natura.” Since we humans are not infinite and perfect, we do not in our self-loving produce either a binity or a trinity. We are contingent, relative, non-necessary, temporal, spatial, limited, and finite. Even with the words, fecundissimus in natura, et liberalissimus in natura, his answer may not be totally satisfying to all who hear it, but no theological answer is totally satisfying. Nonetheless, what we are asked to see in Bonaventure’s explanation of the trinity is not something depending on such names as Father, Son, and Spirit, but on the very nature and will of an infinitely relational and free God.

102 103 104

Sent., I, d. 24, a. 2, q. 2. Sent., I d. 13, a. 1, q. 3, Respondeo, second paragraph. Sent., I, d. 13, a. 1, q. 3, Respondeo, fifth paragraph.


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I began this chapter with a citation from a fellow Franciscan theologian, John Duns Scotus, who had learned much from Bonaventure. The citation provided us with an entry into a theological process that has strong historical foundations. The citation contained three issues of major importance. It is helpful to repeat the citation here. Et ratio est, quia omnis talis intellectio, scilicet per se et propria et immediata requirit ipsum objectum sub propria ratione objecti praesens, et hoc vel in propria existentia, puta si est intuitiva vel in aliquo perfecto repraesentante ipsum sub propria et per se ratione cognoscibilis, si fuerit abstractiva; Deus autem sub propria ratione divinitatis non est praesens alicui intellectui creato, nisi mere voluntarie.105

In today’s world, people have often been asked: do you believe in God? The expected answer is either a yes or a no. When a person asks the question: do you believe in God, the questioner usually has a preconceived notion of God. The responder is called on to affirm or deny the kind of God about whom the questioner is asking. Perhaps the better answer to the question: do you believe in God? would be: what kind of God are you asking about? Scotus would answer that the description of God must include a proper ratio, perfectly representing, and a per se ratio. Bonaventure would answer this kind of question in a less philosophical way: namely, the description of God must be that of a relational God. Only a relational God can claim a proper ratio, perfectly representing, and a per se ratio. As we have seen in the pages above, for Bonaventure God’s relationality is central. For Bonaventure, God is not a transcendent being that has no relationship to us at all. Both Bonaventure and Scotus are in agreement on this issue. Both scholars strive to present a credible theology of God, and both scholars also focus on the ability and limitations of the human intellect and will when these turn their attention to a theology of God. Freyer, summarizes the Franciscan theology of God as follows. Gott ist und bliebt aber für den Menschen, der nach Gott und in dieser Gottesfrage auch nach sich selbst fragt, im Letzten ein undurchdringliches, unfassbares, ungreifbares Geheimnis.106

105 106

Scotus, Quaestiones quodlibetales, q. 14, a. 2 (14:36). Freyer, 169.

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The mystery of God, ungreifbares Geheimnis, stands at the very threshold of any theology of God. If that threshold remains closed, then there is no possible question about God. If any creature can know something of God, God must act first—this is the third main issue of Scotus’ citation. God, however, must not only act first, God must act voluntarily. To act voluntarily means to act freely. God, the ungreifbares Geheimnis, has no need to reveal anything at all. If God does reveal something about God’s own being, God does so voluntarily and freely. On this basis, the question arises: has God revealed God’s own self, at least in some way, to human beings? If one says yes, then God is relating. We often name this relational act of God revelation, inspiration, manifestation, communication, etc. All of these words express relationality. However, God does not become relational only when there is a revelation of God to a created being. God, long before any creation or revelation, is in God’s very nature a relational being, just as God is a creator even though God might not create anything at all. This “very nature of relational being” forms the continual focus of Bonaventure’s thought. God does not have to create to be a relational creator God; nor does God have to reveal to be a relational revealer God. The reader may have noticed that I have used the terms relation and relationality abundantly. I have done so deliberately. God is primarily relational, and only on the basis of divine relationality can we go on to speak of a specific Trinitarian relationship. Not only is the voluntariness of God’s revelation of God’s own self a complicating factor, a second complicating factor is God’s infinity. No human mind can comprehend the infinite, for the human mind and the human will are intrinsically finite both in nature and in operation. When infinite, freedom and will are brought together, then such a phrase as bonum est sui diffusivum itself becomes infinite, free and voluntary. Beatitutdo et caritas become infinite, free, and voluntary. Scotus’s often uses the phrases voluntas divina and vult bonitatem suam. In doing so, Scotus describes an infinite, free, and voluntary willing. Relationality in God is itself infinite, free, and voluntary. For both Bonaventure and Scotus, God as Summum Ens is infinite, free, and voluntary. In an essay on Bonaventure’ theology, Hayes states that there are two texts that indicate the starting point of Bonaventure’s theology. The first is found in the Quaestiones disputatae, which Hayes summarizes as follows. Bonaventure speaks of the entire edifice of Christian faith. This foundation, he argues, is the mystery of the trinity. At first reading, this seems


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to be inconsistent with the long-standing conviction that Bonaventure’s theology is thoroughly and consistently Christocentric.107

Hayes continues his focus on the foundation of Bonaventure’s theology by citing a second text from the Haxaëmeron. In this work, Hayes states that there is a christocentric centering for Bonaventure’s theology. He summarizes this position as follows. We are to begin at the center of reality; and the center is Christ. . . . Here the mystery of the incarnation is emphatically foundational.108

Both issues are foundational, and for Bonaventure there is a dialectical relationship between them which Hayes calls the “two roots of faith.”109 Bonaventure’s theology is not exclusively theocentric nor is it exclusively christocentric. However, if one simply remains with these two foundational bases, calling them Trinitarian and christocentric, and if one simply states that these two foundational bases are in a dialectical relationship with each other, I do not think that the depth of Bonaventure’s theology of God has been adequately explained. Dialectical balance is not the ultimate basis of his theology. Hayes argues that Bonaventure considers the Trinitarian base as the more profound foundation, and that the christological base, Christ the center, is intelligible only on the basis of a Trinitarian God. I would like to press the issue to a deeper foundation through Bonaventure’s implicit explanation that Ens Summum is relational. Whether or not one believes in an Ens Summum, or whether or not one accepts the western philosophical name, being, is not relevant for my position. What is relevant is this: there is a primacy of relationship for all reality. Bonaventure’s carefully constructed relational theology of God presents in very defined ways such a primacy. Freyer sums up the issue as follows: Da Bonaventura Gott, “Der Seiende”, als das personale Sein in Beziehung beschreibt, das sich selbst mitteilt, aus dessen Kommunikation dann die

107 Hayes, MT 49, citing QD, q. 1, a. 2, 131: “Et ex hoc apparet, quomodo fides Trinitatis et fundamenum et radix est divini cultus et totius christianae religionis.” 108 Ibid., citing Hexaëmeron, Opera Omnia V, Collatio 1, 1: “[Spiritus Sanctus] docet ubi debet incipere: quia a medio, quod est Christus.” In Collatio I, ad 10, he writes: “Nota quod incipiendum est a medio, quod est Christus. Ipse mediator Dei et hominum.” 109 Hexaëmeron, Collatio 8, ad 9: “Isti sunt duae radices fidei.” Eng. trans. by José de Vinck, The Works of Bonaventure: Collations on the Six Days, v. 5 (Paterson, New Jersey: St. Anthony Guild Press, 1970), 126.

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chapter five Schöpfung hervorgeht, muss die Beziehung und Kommunikation des höchsten Seins der Schöpfung vorausgehen.110

Freyer’s words are clear: “das personale Sein in Beziehung.” In a relational God, “die Beziehung und Kommunikation des höchsten Seins” must “der Schöpfung vorausgehen.” If the Infinite Being, God, is relational being, then Bonaventure has clearly formulated an understanding of being that differs from being as presented by either Aristotle or the Platonists. In Bonaventure’s descriptions of simplicity, primacy, perfection, and love, as we have noted above, one finds a juxtaposition of two different types of terminology. On the one hand, Bonaventure clearly speaks about the oneness, uniqueness, and unity of God. In this frame of reference, he uses the following essentialistic terms to describe the nature of God.111

one, only one, one nature, one essence, one substance, immutable, and summe simplex.

On the other hand, he also uses the following relational terminology to describe the same nature of God.

ability to produce, eternal production, emanation, communicability, powerful, fontal fullness, infinitely free love, positive relationship, primal fountain, greater than primary/final causality, non-causal productivity, highest actuality that includes summa diffusio et communicatio, and caritas.

What is outstanding in this juxtaposition of terminologies is the interconnection of essential terms and relational terms. In the Aristotelian framework, a basic essence or substance is non-relational.112 For Aristotle, an essence or primary substance is that which can be defined without relationship to any other being. In Plotinian neo-Platonism, the One is also non-relational. From the One there may be emana-

110 111 112

Freyer, 48. See for example, Sent., I., d. 21, a. 1, q. 2; also 1, d. 23, a. 1, q. 2 and 3. See Aristotle, Categoriae, c. 5.


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tions to many other beings, but in itself the One is an isolated unity.113 Nowhere in the writings of Bonaventure does one find a statement by Bonaventure in which he claims that he is changing in a radical way the Aristotelian or Platonic understanding of being. He simply makes this change that I have called a radical change. Bonaventure places before us a very different understanding of the divine ens, essentia, and esse. For Bonaventure, the supreme ens, essentia, and esse, God, is primordially relational and relationally primordial. God cannot be fully understood by using only the descriptive terminology mentioned above: one, only one, one nature, one essence, one substance, immutable. Simultaneously, and ad intra as well as ad extra, the one and unique Summum Ens/Summum Esse involves the other set of relational terms mentioned above: ability to produce, eternal production, emanation, communicability, powerful, fontal fullness, infinitely free love, positive relationship, etc. In other words, God is in God’s very essence communicable, fontal, able to produce, etc. Summe simplex is not a description of God to which a Trinitarian relational reality is attached. An infinite being is a being without any principium, and since God’s essentiality and relationality are also infinite, they too are without any principium. In this context, infinite does not mean only durational infinity but more profoundly an essential infinity of being itself. There is absolutely no aspect of God that is not at once one and unique and also relational and communicable. For God, to be means to be a fountain of plenitude and to be communicable. An important part of this communicability is this: for such a being the communicability connected with it moves beyond mere causative productivity. Infinite relationality infinitely surpasses causality. In the Christian world, one does not say that the Father “causes” the Son, or that the Father and Son “cause” the Spirit. Causality of any kind does not play a role in the ad intra Trinitarian life. This all-encompassing infinite communicability is the basic reason why Bonaventure focuses only on a triune God, leaving no room at all for a view of a God who is not relational. In Bonaventure’s view, Richard of St. Victor’s position on the Trinity is inadequate. He agrees with Richard that love is central to an understanding of God, but human love is not adequate to explain God’s

113 See Henry Blumenthal, “Plotinus,” A Guide to Greek Thought: 171–181, esp. 172–173.

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love. Richard lacks the Dionysian element of bonum est sui diffusivum in connection with the very meaning of being. Richard does not link Summum Ens with relational and diffusive being. Likewise, Augustine’s De Trinitate is inadequate since he, too, lacks the same connection of being to the Dionysian principle. Bonaventure, building on Alexander of Hales and the Summa alexandrina, envisions a radically new western approach to a theology of Trinity that presents us with a radically new understanding of being itself. It is through the findings of contemporary research that Bonaventure’s radically new Trinitarian theology and ontology has gradually come to light, and De Régnon’s position regarding Bonaventure has been displaced.114 It would be short-sighted to think that the only phrase that Bonaventure takes from Dionysius is bonum est sui diffusivum. Bougerol, in his analysis of Bonaventure and Dionysius, states: The Areopagite’s teaching is hard to summarize. We may say, however, that his influence on Bonaventure was threefold: he gave Bonaventure a viewpoint, a method, and a few fundamental themes.115

Bonaventure had read deeply in Dionysius and had been prompted to do so by Alexander of Hales. Bonaventure utilized Greek theological thought in a primordial way as he developed his theology of a relational, Trinitarian God. In the theology of Trinity, Augustine, Thomas Aquinas or Richard of St. Victor had not done so.116 God’s revelation of God’s own self to both angels and human beings is a voluntary act of God. Unless God first and freely revealed something of God’s own being to us, we would have no idea of God at all. 114 Gilson’s The Philosophy of St. Bonaventure has tended to dominate the contemporary interpretation of Bonaventure, an interpretation. Some of his views are, however, now dated. 115 Bougerol, Introduction to the Works of Bonaventure, 40. Bougerol, in this volume, indicates that mss. of Dionysius were available in Latin translation at the beginning of the 13th century. There were four: that of Hilduin (832); that of John Scotus Eriugena (c. 867); that of Jean Sarrazin (c. 1167); and that of Robert Grosseteste (c. 1235). Bonaventure seems to have used a different version, which was a hybrid source, namely “a worked-over transcription of Scotus-Sarrizin, with a rejuvenated wording here and there that was closer to the Latin of the Schools, but with attention to the Greek text; its simplified expressions verge at times on paraphrase. We do not know the author of this recension that had authority in the Franciscan School” 48, citing Hyancinthe Dondaine, Le corpus dionysien de l’Université de Paris au XIIIe siècle (Rome: 1953) 144. 116 Augustine did not read Greek, as he himself admits, in a facile way. He had access to some Latin translations, perhaps excerpts, from certain works of Athanasius, Basil, and Gregory of Nazianz. Augustine was aware of the Greek stress on the economic Trinity. His own work can be seen as a counter-stress for the ad intra Trinity.


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On the basis of Scotus’ statement in the Quodlibet, that I have cited several times, Cross writes: God’s self-revelation is a voluntary matter; we cannot have intuitive knowledge of his essence unless he shows himself to us. Neither can we have abstractive knowledge, because no created representation is such that we can abstract knowledge of the divine essence from it in an inferential way.117

Only sixty years ago, Karl Barth in his own straightforward style presented the same position: By that [historical eventing] we rather mean the fact that the Bible always regards what it calls revelation as a concrete relation to concrete men. . . . By the thing it calls revelation the Bible always means a unique event, one occurring in that place and at that time.118 [Italics added] God’s revealedness makes it a relationship between God and man, the effective meeting between God and man.119 [Italics added] Revelation is the root or ground of the doctrine of the Trinity.120 [Italics added] Only because there is a veiling of God can there be an unveiling, and only because there is a veiling and unveiling of God can there be a self-impartation of God [to creation].121 [Italics added]

God freely reveals God’s own self. Creatures do not logically reason to God’s existence and nature. However, a proper understanding of God’s revelation of God’s own self becomes an even more complex issue when additional factors is added to the context These additional factors are love, goodness, and infinite freedom. In Bonaventure we noted these factors through the phrases, Primitas, Simplicitas, Perfectio, Beatitudo et Caritas and Bonum est sui diffusivum. In Scotus one reads: “Voluntas divina necessario vult bonitatem suam, et tamen in volendo eam est libera.”122 Love is voluntary and free. Divine love is also voluntary and free, and no human or angelic being can set limits on God’s love. The complication that love brings is clear: no human understanding of God

117 Richard Cross, Duns Scotus on God, 129. See Scotus, Quaestiones quodlibetales, 14, n. 9. 118 Barth, Dogmatics 1;1, 374. 119 Ibid., 381. 120 Ibid. 382. 121 Ibid. 417. 122 Scotus, Quaestiones quodlibetales (Wadding-Vivés edition) 16, n. 18.

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can ever comprehend the infinite and free height and depth, length and breadth of God’s free, voluntary, and infinite love. Love without limits defies human comprehension. Love without limits is unlimited relationality. Today, we can appreciate these insights from Bonaventure’s theology of a relational God. Archetypal relationality that underlies Bonaventure’s presentation of Summum Ens dovetails easily with the dominant forms of a relational episteme found in today’s globalized world. At the same time, archetypal relationality challenges the Euro-American non-relational episteme as regards an understanding of being itself. Our next step is part three, which centers on the question: can the human mind and will arrive at an understanding of God, at least in some inchoative way?

3. The Capacity of the Human Mind and Will to Comprehend God The question, “Does God exist?” is an ontological question. The question, “Can the human mind arrive at an understanding of God?” is an epistemological question. In the third millennium, people will answer both questions in ways quite different from medieval scholars. Among the medieval scholars, Bonaventure answers the second question in a unique way. Bonaventure’s response does not begin with a direct answer about human intellectual capability. In Bonaventure’s perspective, the key issue is not the ability or non-ability of the human intellect and will. For him, a focus on human intellection and willing is the incorrect starting point. Bonaventure throughout his writings indicates that God is freely and primordially manifesting God’s own self throughout creation. Not only is there a manifestation of God; there is also a participation of God in every aspect of creation.123 God participates in a multi-form way in making his nature known. In Bonaventure’s approach, the Word of God, das Wort Gottes, is prior to any answer or Antwort from human beings. To the question, “Can the human mind arrive at an understanding of God?” Bonaventure looks at the world and says to us: “How can one miss the answer, since God is already present in the entire universe?” In our universe, there is for 123

See Hayes, MT, 64. Also Bonaventure, Sent., II, d, 1, p. 2, a. 2, q, 1.


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Bonaventure an abundance of God’s manifestations and participations. The human mind and heart can hardly avoid the pre-given answer to the question, “Can the human mind arrive at an understanding of God?” Given this over-abundance of God’s primordial manifestation and participation in our world, Bonaventure stresses four areas in which the presence of God can hardly be missed. God is present: a. In three books: the book of creation, the book of the scriptures, and the book of our inner life; b. In the emanation and illumination of God; c. In Jesus as the mediator; d. In the Spirit as omnipresent; In all four of these areas, God not only leaves a clue about God, but for Bonaventure God remains relationally and actively present in all four areas. Moreover, God is present voluntarily, since God wants to relate to us. For Bonaventure, it is not a situation of “hide and seek.” God is not hiding in these four areas, waiting to be found. Rather, God is relationally present, reaching out to us, deliberately expressing the situation: “Here I am.” In theological terms God is voluntarily revealing God’s own self to us in these four areas. Let us consider each of these loci in some detail. a. The Three Books: the Book of Creation, the Book of the Scriptures, and the Book of our Inner Life The Book of Creation The Breviloquium presents Bonaventure’s creational theology as reflecting the trinitarian God. In creation God is reflecting God’s own self to us. Ex praedictis autem colligi potest, quod creatura mundi est quasi quidem liber, in quo relucet, repraesentatur, et legitur Trinitas fabricatrix secundum triplicem gradum expressionis, scilicet per modum vestigii, imaginis, et similitudinis; ita quod ratio vestigii reperitur in omnibus creaturis, ratio imaginis in solis intellectualibus et spiritibus rationalibus, ratio similitudinis in solis deiformibus; ex quibus quasi per quosdam scalares gradus intellectus humanus natus est gradatim ascendere in summum principium, quod est Deus.124

124

Breviloquium, 2, 12.

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The book of creation is filled with the presence of God, but in different degrees. In his writings, Bonaventure refers to these degrees through the triad: vestigium, imago, and similitudo. To understand the depth of vestigium, imago, and similitudo, one must keep in mind that in Bonaventure it is always the trinitarian God, not simply the one God, which one finds reflected in these three ways. Thomas Aquinas makes the argument for the existence of God on the basis of efficient cause and effect. He argues from the effect, namely creation or finite being, to a first cause which he calls infinite being and therefore God. Thomas admits that this is only a demonstratio quia not a demonstratio propter quid. A demonstratio propter quid moves from knowledge of a cause to knowledge of its effect. Since we do not know the cause (God), this kind of argumentation is impossible for the human mind. A demonstratio quia is a demonstration that moves from knowledge of an effect to knowledge of its cause. Since an effect depends on a cause, the human mind can to some degree move from a known effect to its cause. “If the effect is given, its cause must preexist. It is by means of this kind of demonstration that God’s existence can be established.”125 Thomas is clear about this. Ex quolibet autem effectu potest demonstrari propriam causam eius esse . . . quia, cum effectus dependeant a causa, posito effectu necesse est causam praeexistere. Unde Deum esse, secundum quod non est per se notum quoad nos, demonstrabile est per effectus nobis notos.126

For Bonaventure, this is an inadequate way for Christians to understand God’s presence in the created world, since the only God in that Christians believe is a Trinitarian God. In Bonaventure—and the same applies for Scotus—both the intellect and the will are active in this quest for God. It is not simply a question of a person’s intellectual capacity. Human beings, from Bonaventure’s viewpoint, know and love God primarily because of God’s own initiative that dynamically is continually making God’s own nature understandable. The presence of God throughout the created world is not uniform. In keeping with Dionysius, Bonaventure maintains that the created world is hierarchical. This entails differences of degree, which Bonaventure calls vestigium, imago, and similitudo. Each of these offers our human minds and hearts differing degrees of God’s presence in our world. 125 126

Wippel, 443. See Wippel, 443, note 5.


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Vestigium Vestigium is often translated as a footprint, and footprints can at times be traced back to their source. Interpreted in this way, a footprint reflects but also camouflages its reference. It reflects because a footprint is an effect; it camouflages because the cause is no longer present. Bonaventure does not teach that the vestigium is simply a reflection of God in creation caused by a four-fold causality in God. A “first cause” basis is not what Bonaventure has in mind. Rather, there is in the vestigium itself an actual reflection of God’s presence, with God being understood as a Trinitarian God. One does not simply see in a vestigium the effect of a first cause; one sees in some degree the actual presence of God’s own self. Nor is vestigium for Bonaventure to be seen in a way similar to the signature of an artist to a painting or to a page of music. It is not God’s signature that one finds in creation: rather it is a lingering presence of God’s own self that one finds in these vestiges. There is a caveat in Bonaventure’s approach. He writes: Dicendum, quod pluralitas personarum cum unitate essentiae est proprium divinae naturae solius, cuius simile nec reperitur in creatura nec potest reperiri nec rationabiliter cogitari: ideo nullo modo trinitas personarum est cognoscibilis per creaturam, rationabiliter ascendendo a creatura in Deum. Sed licet non habeat omnino simile, habet tamen aliquo modo quod creditur simile in creatura.127

Bonaventure, borrowing from Peter Lombard, uses the two words, manifestation and participation, to indicate the dynamic quality of God’s own presence in the created world. By these two words, Bonaventure indicates that God is personally active, that is, God is both manifesting and participating. God through this manifestation and participation is offering to human beings the gift of faith. With the gift of faith comes illumination and thus in the vestigium one can know at least inchoatively something of the relational God. From the vestigium a human person does not directly perceive a Trinitarian God. However, one does perceives a relational God. God has willed to manifest and participate in this manner through God’s freedom, voluntarie as Scotus wrote. God did not have to create; nor did God, even if there were creation, have to leave a vestigium presence in such a creation. In the above citation from Thomas we read: “. . . cum effectus dependeant a causa, posito effectu necesse est causam 127

Sent., I, d. 3, p. 1, a. 1, q. 4, Respondeo.

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praeexistere.”128 No one denies that there is a necessary bond between a dependent effect and a preexisting efficient cause. In another text of Thomas we read: Quia ergo in his quae primo modo analogice dicuntur oportet esse aliquam determinatam habitudinem inter ea quibus est aliquid per analogiam commune, impossibile est aliquid per hunc modum analogice dici de Deo et creatura quia nulla creatura habet talem habitudinem ad Deum per quam possit divina perfectio determinari.129

A creature, aliquo modo, has something that allows us to know that there is a first cause of all creatures. The argument of context::effect to first cause is not precisely what Bonaventure means by vestigium. Rather, the context is not from effect to cause, but from God’s own willing action (manifestation and participation) to us in and through the vestigium. God is absolutely free in this matter of an ad extra action that we call vestigium. For Bonaventure, God’s vestigial presence in all of creation is indeed a reality, but it is not a necessary part of created reality. God could have created a world—therefore an effect—that calls for the preexistence of a first cause. Such a world would lead human beings simply to the postulation of a first cause. Bonaventure wants to say that first cause is not a sufficient description of God, since God created a world that is more than simply an effect of God’s power. Bonaventure adds to the term, effect, another dimension. God loved the world into being, and loving is an unnecessary connection to a created world. Perhaps, vestigium is better described as a free gift of God’s own presence lingering in all of reality. This is different than the relationship of cause::effect. Our vestigial knowledge and love of God through an initium fidei is only a beginning of our ability to know and love God. Even the word beginning might be the wrong word to use, since the beginning is actually God’s initiatory action—namely, God’s initiatory manifestation and participation. We humans are simply responding in a fragile way to God’s relational presence found in all creatures. For Bonaventure, no human being can claim a knowledge and love of God through his or her own initiative. If God’s vestigium were not already present in reality, no human being would have any knowledge and love

128 129

Thomas, see above 123. Cited in Wippel, 552, note 174.


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of God whatsoever.130 Bonaventure moves, through this understanding of vestigial presence, beyond mere cause and effect. No doubt the emanation theories of Plato and Plotinus, as found in Dionysius and John Damascene, have influenced Bonaventure in a strong way.131 Imago Imago is a more radiant reflection of a relational and Trinitarian God, since for an intellectual being or rational spirit, there is a deeper mutual relationship. The relational God is recognized both as truth and as beauty-love. Rocks and trees may reflect the truth, beauty, and love of the triune God, but the rocks and trees themselves do not intellectually and voluntarily respond to such truth, beauty, and love. In the Imagoreflection, Bonaventure emphasizes the answering role of the human mind and will. This can be seen in his insistence not only on truth (there must be a first cause or first principle) but also on his movement beyond cause to a non-intellectualized presence which a human being can deeply love and whose beauty he or she can profoundly relish. Imago is God’s presencing (a verb not a noun) in our own mind-will.132 Hayes provides the following clarification: This level of representation [imago] is found in the angels as pure, created spirits and in humanity particularly by reason of the faculties of memory, intellect, and will. These faculties have God not only as their cause, but also as the object which moves and regulates them. Such a creature is called an imago (image). This level of creation is understood to present God more closely and distinctly than a mere vestige.133

For an understanding of imago, the two words manifestare and participare are again prominent.134 In both vestigium and imago, it is God who

130 Further information on Bonaventure’s understanding of vestigium can be found in González, 35–38; 564–572. 131 Medieval Latin interest in John Damascene began in the twelfth century. Robert Grosseteste (c. 1168–1253) did much to make the writings of John Damascene part of academic study. See James McEvoy, Robert Grosseteste (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 117–121. Throughout this book, McEvoy provides us with a rich background of the academic use of original Greek sources that took place in the twelfth and early thirteenth centuries. 132 For those interested in multicultural studies, the union of mind-will in Bonaventure is similar—and only similar—to the Neo-Confucian scholar, Wang Yang Ming. See Lee Hsin Yi, The Ethical Teaching of Wang Yang-ming and H. Richard Niebuhr, dissertation (Claremont, California: Claremont College of Theology, 2007). 133 Hayes, MT, 76. 134 See Sent., II, d. 1, p. 2, a. 2, q. 1.

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is manifesting and participating. We humans respond to the manifestation and participation of God through our response of knowing and loving. We know and love the imago, that is the presencing (a verb not a noun) of God’s own self to angelic and human beings. Imago is an action—manifesting and participating—but manifesting and participating in what and with whom? Bonaventure is clear: God is manifesting and participating vis-à-vis humans who have both intellect and will. For this reason, Bonaventure can say, to use Gilson’s words that “God is a truth in every rational soul.”135 Gilson, however, interprets this from the human side only that is in the intellect where there is an innate knowledge of God. Throughout his analysis, Gilson seems to bypass the multiple manifesting and participating actions of God, which is key to Bonaventure’s approach. Knowing and willing are basically actions and reactions; they are verbs not nouns. The focus of knowledge is not on an object, a something, but on the activity of knowing something. Bonaventure is saying that we humans, in our knowing and loving, meet up with an imago, a manifestation and a participation of God, and therefore our knowledge and willing is a reaction: a reimaging of God’s manifestation and a responding to God’s loving participation.136 Similitudo Similitudo is reserved for those who are God-conformed. Similitudo is not simply a prerogative of the blessed in heaven; it is present in holy people here on earth. In the Breviloquium, the realization of similitudo is in the unitive way.137 In the Hexaëmeron, the realization is present in a communal way or in a holy-people-of-God way. Actually, one should not say God-conformed, but relationally-conformed, for the similitudo includes a cohabitation within God’s relational life. The highest reflection here on earth of God’s relational life is in the union of living saints to the relational God. One can even speak of a “real presence” of God in such a holy person. At this unitive juncture in one’s religious life, Bonaventure focuses on a person’s inner life, in that one finds the third book: a book written by the Holy Spirit in the very heart of men and women. However, 135

Gilson, The Philosophy of St. Bonaventure, 110. For further information on Bonaventure’s interpretation of imago, see, Hayes, MT: 75–79; González, 572–598; Freyer, 176–180. 137 Itinerarium, c. 7, n. 5. 136


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this book is present not just at the end of a spiritual journey. In the Itinerarium, Bonaventure indicates that at every step of our spiritual journey we are coterminously in the purgative, illuminative, and unitive way. At the start of our journey, we are hardly mystics. Rather, Bonaventure speaks of this unitive light in a fragile way. He calls this presence an igniculum sapientiae, a small flicker of wisdom. Nonetheless, it is this flicker of wisdom that motivates a spiritual person to work through the purgative and illuminative ways. Without this flicker of wisdom, (a flicker of similitudo), one would not be motivated to go further towards the ever-increasing brilliance of divine life. Through the igniculum sapientiae, our wills are motivated to seek more and more of this wisdom and our minds are motivated to learn more and more about this wisdom. Once again, similitudo like vestigium and imago is a verb, not a noun. It is action and reaction. The primary action in similitudo is the presence of God manifesting and participating, and our reaction is a response by re-flecting and re-participating. The Book of the Scriptures Interest in reading and studying the scriptures was a major part of the renewal movements that began around 1000 ce. These reform movements were actually a series of disparate and regional movements that tended to circle around a focal theme, namely the gospel life, vita evangelica. These reform movements include the so-called “heretical” movements of the eleventh and twelfth centuries as well as the more acceptable movements of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Regional reform movements first appeared at Mainz in 1020, at Orléans in 1022, at Arras in 1025 and then at Monteforte and in Burgundy from 1042–1048 and at Goslar in 1051. In time, a reading of sections from the gospels themselves became the spark for a reformed life. The very Word of God, heard reverently in a communal sharing, was a major part of these reform movements. Both the Dominican Order and the Franciscan Order are part of this movement, and this early second millennium reform context helps us understand the power and the attraction of the mendicant communities.138 Bougerol devotes an entire chapter on the importance of scripture at the time of Bonaventure. In a preliminary historical section, he refers

138 See Osborne, Ministry: Lay Ministry in the Roman Catholic Church: Its History and Theology, 341–360.

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to the twelfth-century and thirteenth century renewal of biblical studies.139 Only then does he take up his explanation of Bonaventure and the Book of the Scriptures. For Bonaventure, the sacred writings have a divine origin and thus one who reads these scriptures must be a person of faith. There are four dimensions to the reading of scripture • Their breadth: This consists of the entire biblical material. “By the breadth of the books they contain, the Scriptures are the voice of the Holy Spirit giving to the Church of Christ the whole doctrine of the truth necessary to salvation.”140 • Their length: Bonaventure finds in the scriptures a history of divine care and love not only for one’s human life, but for all of creation from its beginning to its fulfillment. Since each human life is only a short interval of this history, “the Scriptures are given him so that he may see through them the order of the whole.”141 • Their height: For Bonaventure, the scriptures are a majestic and panoramic way of portraying the entire hierarchy of reality: the ecclesiastical, the angelical, and the heavenly. Jesus is the center of divine life and the true hierarach of the earthly, the angelic and the heavenly spheres.142 The scriptures open to us the most humble aspects of creation and the highest spheres of God’s Trinitarian and relational creation. • Their depth: For Bonaventure any cursory reading of the Scriptures is insufficient, since there is a multiplicity of readings that the Word of God possesses: the literal sense, the allegorical sense, the tropological sense, and the analogical sense. “The depth of scripture is due to their origin and to the purpose for which they were revealed to us.”143 In the scriptures, the Trinitarian God is manifesting and participating in our reading, in our hearing, and in our understanding. Since the depth of God is infinite, we human beings can never penetrate fully into the manifesting and participating of God through these holy books. We remain always on the edges of an infinite life and love.

139

Bougerol, Introduction to the Works of Bonaventure, 85–98. Ibid., 91. 141 Ibid., 92. Reference in a special way is made to the Breviloquium. 142 Ibid., 92. References are not only to the Sentences, but also to the Reductio Artium, 26. 143 Ibid., 93. Reference is made to Dionysian themes. 140


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Over and over again, in the writings of Bonaventure, there is an urgent call not only to re-read the book of the scriptures, but also to read it with faith and love. The book of scripture nourishes one’s spiritual life, for in this book one finds God’s presence, or more aptly stated God’s presencing. In the book of the scriptures, the Word of God is present through manifestation and participation, and the Word of God speaks directly to the inner heart-mind of an individual.144 The Book of the Inner Life The third book, the book of the inner life, is deeply important for an understanding of Bonaventure’s epistemology. The question is this: what is the capacity of the human mind and will to comprehend God. For Bonaventure, our human mind and will come to comprehend God through creation and what creation itself says to us about God; through the scriptures in that God’s own word tells us about God’s plan for the world and its final fulfillment in heaven; and through the Spirit of God speaking to us in the depths of our heart and mind as we read the holy writing and contemplate the beauty and love of creation. It is in the scriptures that we learn about God’s establishment of the church and the ecclesiastical hierarchy, and Bonaventure realized that the church is a major key to our comprehending God. But creation and one’s own inner life are also places, in some aspects broader and more intimate than the institutional church, in which God speaks directly to us. In chapter seven of the Itinerarium, Bonaventure explains this Itinerarium as follows: Postquam mens nostra contuita est Deum extra se per vestigia et in vestigiis, intra se per imaginem et in imagine, supra se per divinae lucis similitudinem super nos relucentem et in ipsa luce, secundum quod possible est secundum statum viae et exercitium mentis nostrae; cum tantum in sexto gradu ad hoc pervenerit, ut speculetur in principio primo et

144 Ewart Cousins, Bonaventure: The Classics of Western Spirituality (Mahwah, New Jersey: Paulist Press, 1978), 20–21. Cousins struggles for the correct translation of “mens” in Bonaventure’s Itinerarium mentis ad Deum. He selects the term “soul” for the Latin mens since in medieval writings mens includes memory, intelligence, and will. My own use of heart-mind is borrowed from the writings of Mencius, Wang Yang Ming, and also the Korean Confucian scholar, T’oegye, in his work Ten Diagrams on Sage Learning. These Asian authors faced a similar situation: how to construct a word that means both heart-and-mind.

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chapter five summo et mediatore Dei et hominum, Iesu Christo, ea quorum similia in creaturis nullatenus reperiri possunt, et quae omnen perspicacitatem humani intellectus excedunt.145

Creation, as we saw above in vesitigium and imago, manifested something of the relational God to the human mind. Ewert Cousins reminds us, however, that the self-diffusion of God “cannot be realized in God’s outpouring of himself in creation, since creation is too limited to sustain the full force of the divine fecundity; it is like a mere speck in relation to the immensity of the divine goodness.”146 In the action of similitude, the heart runs ahead of the mind, since love of the beautiful far outpaces anything that the mind might know. In other words, in the action of similitude, the human being is running faster into the outstretched arms of God’s manifestation and participation within our created existence. Similitude as an action is once again a reaction to the primary action of God. In the document of Vatican II, Ad Gentes, we read something similar to Bonaventure’s approach regarding this third book. The subtitle of part one in Ad Gentes states: “Responding to the Promptings of the Spirit.” The text then goes on to say: The people of God believe that it is led by the Spirit of the Lord who fills the whole world. Impelled by that faith, they try to discern the true signs of God’s presence and purpose in the events, the needs, and the desires that it shares with the rest of humanity today. For faith casts a new light on everything and makes known the full ideal that God has set for humanity (11).

These words speak of the vestigium of God participating and manifesting God’s own being in all of creation. They also speak of imago, for human beings can respond intellectually and voluntarily to the action of imago in all of creation. They also address similitudo since in the height, depth, breadth, and length of God’s manifestation and participation, one’s very heart is prompted by the Spirit to answer in a total and profound way. This same document, a few paragraphs later, also speaks in a manner that exemplifies Bonaventure’s approach. We read:

145 146

Itinerarium, Opera Omnia, V, 7, 1, p. 312. Cousins, op. cit., 25.


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Deep with their consciences men and women discover a law which they have not laid upon themselves and which they must obey. Its voice, ever calling them to love and to do what is good and to avoid evil, tells them inwardly at the right moment: do this, shun that. . . . There they are alone with God whose voice echoes in their depths (16).

Bonaventure’s Book of the Spirit is a book open to any and every human being. It is a book which one finds deep within one’s own conscious and willing life. In this depth of similitude the human person is alone with God, and God’s manifesting and participating voice echoes in the very depths of their hearts. For Bonaventure, these three books contain the revelation of the mystery of the triune God. It is God who gives us these three books. Can the human mind arrive at an understanding of God? The books are immediately available. It is the emanation and illumination of God that makes the reading of these books possible. God even gives faith to those who seek. The answer to the question, “Can the human mind and heart come to some understanding of God?” is for Bonaventure affirmative, but it is based on the primordial and free action of God and only secondarily on our human reaction. This chapter began with a citation from Scotus: God, under the proper ratio of divinity, is not present to any created intellect other than voluntarily. Bonaventure states the same position: God is present to a created intellect only if and when God has voluntarily manifested and participated in creation, and thereby God reveals God’s own self through a free act of God’s will. b. Emanation and Illumination Hayes capsulates Bonaventure’s understanding of emanation as follows: “The doctrine of creation, for Bonaventure, presupposes the doctrine of the immanent emanations that constitute the mystery of the trinity.”147 Relationship echoes in almost every phrase of this citation. Bonaventure’s entire Commentary on the Sentences can be reduced to one totum integrum, that he himself summarized as follows: “Et accipio large totum integrum, quod multa complectitur non solum per compositionem, sed per unionem et per ordinem.”148 Again we cannot help but notice

147 148

Hayes, MT, 62. Sent., I, Prooemium, Q. 1, Respondeo.

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the relational phrases and words. Interrelationship binds the totum integrum into a comprehensive whole. Emanation or exemplarity by itself, however, is hardly the totum integrum. A book that is not read is a meaningless book. A world that manifests God but in which there is no one to see such a manifestation is aimless. Although, in Bonaventure, God is present in all of creation, the rational creature needs light in order to read the book of creation. God is present in the book of the scriptures, but one needs light to read its pages. God is present in the inner parts of our own being, but there too one needs light to shine in the inner darkness of our being. Thus, Bonaventure develops his theory of illumination. For Bonaventure, the Latin word lux (light) has a different meaning from the Latin terms lumen (radiation) and coloratio (coloration). Lux involves radiation and coloration, for Lux is the source from which radiation and coloration develop (e.g., in a prism). God is light (lux) and radiates outward to creation (lumen). God as Lux is prismed for us into the magnificent colors of creation itself, into the multi-colored meanings in scriptures (breadth, height, length and depth); and into the radiance and color of our inner being (coloratio). It would take us far afield to present a detailed explanation of Bonaventure’s understanding of both emanation and illumination. What is of importance here is simply this: through his teaching on emanation, Bonaventure clearly states that God is relationally present in all of creation. Through his teaching on illumination, Bonaventure states that the human intellect has the ability—not from its own nature but from God’s gift of illumination—to perceive, at least in some degree, the presence of God throughout created nature. The conclusion to be drawn from these aspects of both emanation and illumination is a relational one. God’s entire creation through emanation is laced with relationality: namely, God’s relation to all creatures. Through illumination, intelligent beings are able to see this relationship of God in all creation, at least in some inchoative way. Even more clearly stated, intelligent beings are able to see a relating God in all creation. Thus, intelligent creatures are also in a co-relational status with God. Nonetheless, the originator of this co-relational status is God and God acts freely: To re-quote Scotus once again: “God, under the proper ratio of divinity, is not present to any created intellect other than voluntarily.” The two doctrines, emanation and illumination, are founded on a relational understanding of being (philosophically) and on a relational understanding of God as Esse supremum (theologically). Let us turn


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now to the third dimension through which the human mind and heart can come to some knowledge of God. This third dimension is clearly based on Christian faith in the Incarnate Jesus. c. Jesus the Mediator The centrality of Jesus in Bonaventure’s theology has already been mentioned. In his Commentary on John, Bonaventure presents a thoroughly Logos-centered theology of revelation. Hayes contextualizes this Logos-centered revelation when he writes: In the broadest sense, God’s revelation is found in the whole of the created universe. In a more specific sense, it is found in human nature. But in its most adequate form, it is found in the person of Jesus Christ.149

Bonaventure notes that the revelation of God ad extra, the book of creation, is difficult to read because of human sinfulness. Biblical revelation enables men and women to read the book of creation in a clearer way, and God’s self-revelation in and through the incarnate Logos, Jesus, allows human beings to understand the book of creation and the biblical books of the Old Testament in a generous way. Jesus unlocks the meaning of reality (Hexaëmeron, 2, 20). Jesus is the universal center of meaning (Hexaëmeron 1, 10–39). To cite Hayes once more: From the side of God, the possibility of an incarnation is grounded in the prior possibility of God being a creator. This, as we have already seen, is grounded further in the mystery of God as a triune mystery of self-communicative love.150

In human nature, there is an inner ordering toward immediacy with God. “Bonaventure’s understanding of human nature consistently argues that, by virtue of its spiritual dimension, humanity has an inner ordering to immediacy with God. . . . Christ is the purest actualization of a potential that lies at the heart of the created order.”151 The LogosJesus is even more. He is the mediator. The Logos, in the mystery of the Trinity, is the mediator between the Father and the Spirit. The Logos made flesh, in the mystery of creation, is the mediator between the triune God and all created beings, but especially between God and human

149 150 151

Hayes, MT, 83. Ibid., 87. Ibid., 87.

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beings. The Logos-Jesus is mediator, since he possesses both the nature of the triune God and the nature of a human creature. The better we know Jesus the more quickly do we enter into this medial point and the meaning of being human as well as the meaning of a triune God is seen more clearly. Iammarrone devotes twenty-four pages to the centrality of the Logos in the Trinity itself and in creation. He describes this centering as follows: Si el Verbo es expresión de toda la Trinidad, es también consecuentemente expresión de toda la creación. En el mismo Verbo el Padre dice todo ser divino y extradivino.152

In turn, González presents in great detail the Logos-Jesus as mediator, both in the life of the trinity and in creation. He expresses this as follows: Con el Hijo tenemos nuestro origen común en la fontalidad paterna, de la que él es una Imagen hipostática, y nosotros una imagen deficiente.153 El punto cumbre de la cristología bonaventuriana lo constituye la teoría de Cristo medio universal, medio trinitario y por ende medio creatural. Mediación personal trinitaria, mediación óntica entre Dios Padre y los seres finitos, mediación necesaria para el concocimiento de los seres, subsiguiente a la óntica, mediación redentora, mediación cósmica, reductora y consumativa en el seno del Padre de todo lo creado; hacia la unidad cobijante del Padre retornamos por quien de ella salimos.154

For Christians, Jesus the mediator makes present the Trinitarian God when we creatures commit ourselves to the center of our Christian life, the Logos-Jesus. The central issue of this section of chapter five is as follows: the capacity of the human mind and will to comprehend God. For a Christian, in Bonaventure’s view, one cannot but relate to Jesus, and one cannot help but relate more expressly to God. This takes place, not because of any human structure such as intellect and will. Rather, it takes place because God freely has incarnated God’s own life in the Logos-Jesus. In the Hexaëmeron, Bonaventure compares God to the sun that has its own substance, splendor, and warmth. The Father represents the substance; the Logos-Jesus represents the splendor. The Spirit represents the warmth. We human creatures, though blind, become illuminated by 152 153 154

Iammarrone, 105. González, 521. Ibid., 530–531. See also Collationes in Hexaëmeron, Collation 3.


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the light and splendor of God the eternal Sun. We are warmed by the presence of the Spirit of holiness.155 That the Logos-made-flesh is the mediator for all creation is a given for Bonaventure. Nonetheless, it is a freely instituted mediatorship. God could have acted otherwise.156 d. The Omnipresent Spirit In Bonaventure, as in all of the medieval theologians, the Holy Spirit has also been sent into our created world. Yet, there is a difference between the sending ad extra of the Spirit and the sending ad extra of the Logos. The Logos was sent ad extra in a special way to one specific human being, Jesus, and through this unique human nature to others. In contemporary christological writings Juan Iammarrone is almost alone in discussing the human individuality of Jesus. He does this in his section on scotistic christology in that an individuality, or as Scotus calls it Haecceitas, presents us with a unique human person of Jesus, persona humana.157 The Spirit, however, is not sent ad extra to any specific individual form. Rather, the presence of the Spirit is found throughout all of creation. González offers the following description of the Holy Spirit in the relational theology of Bonaventure: Todo lo que en las criaturas sea bondad, amor, plenitud, perfección o complementación será por tanto un signo elocuente de la presencia o actuación del Espíritu Santo, que es la fuente primordial, en que estos valores se realizan, y que por ser el primero que los posee es causa de todas las subsiguientes participaciones posibles.158

Bonaventure states this when he writes: “Spiritus sanctus dicitur perfundere creaturas, non quia ei attibuatur actus creandi, sed quia ei attribuitur actus conservandi.”159 Or again: “Concedendum est ergo,

155

See Collationes in Hexaëmeron, Opera Omnia, V, Collatio 13, 22, p. 391. Iammarrone, 168–171, focuses on the centrality of the Incarnate Logos and the issue of redemption. His view is carefully stated. In chapter four of this volume, I will take up his position on the matter of Jesus and redemption. In Iammarrone’s presentation, both creation and redemption are free acts of God and both manifest the unending love of God. In other words, Iammarrone carefully maintains the absolute freedom of God. Jesus did not have to die through crucifixion in order that God redeem us. Our sin of itself does not necessitate any action on the part of God. 157 Iammarrone, 173–179. 158 González, 535. He cites Bonaventure, Sent., I, d. 32, p. 2, a. 2, qq. 3 and 7. 159 Sent. I, d. 31, p. 2, dub. 3, Vat. ed., 550. 156

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quod Spiritus sanctus est donum, quo omnia, scilicet gratuitua, donantur per concomitantiam, et quo omnia Dei donantur per exemplaritatis causam.”160 There is a depth to the presentation by Hayes on the Holy Spirit in Bonaventure.161 A depth of thought can also be found in González’ volume on the Trinity in Bonaventure’s theology.162 The Spirit of God acts and relates both throughout the entire created world and also in the depths of a human soul. Bonaventure speaks of the Spirit of God in a four-fold way: the Spirit is love, bond, holiness and gift. Each of these descriptions is relational in their very nature. I will take up this omnipresence of the Spirit in the next chapter that deals specifically with a relational theology of creation. In brief, I want to say that since the Spirit is at work throughout the created world, Bonaventure is able to consider the Spirit’s presence a major locus in which God is present in a manifesting and participating way. Once more the abundant presence of a manifesting and participating God in all creation indicates for Bonaventure that human beings per se do have the capacity to comprehend God. However, God always acts first. Only in and through God’s light are we able to glimpse something of God. In this sense, the presence of the Spirit throughout creation is much more a verb than a noun. God is present, not merely in clues and footprints and images. God is truly present actively wherever the Spirit rests. The Franciscan Intellectual Tradition maintains that men and women can arrive at a knowledge of God. In the above material, I have focused primarily on Bonaventure and to a lesser extent on Scotus. From both scholars we arrive at the same conclusion. For both authors, not only is the mind at work in its search for God, but the human will is presented as the driving force that keeps the energy of knowledge on a path to human fullness and beatitude. The will and the intellect are both involved in this process of knowing—loving God. It is wellknown that the role of the will in the Franciscan tradition is far more pronounced than it is in the writings of Thomas Aquinas and Henry of Ghent. However, this stress on the will is based on two presuppositions that I have cited again and again. The first is basically philosophical:

160 161 162

Sent. I, d. 18, a. 1, q. 1, Respondeo. Hayes, Disputed Questions on the Mystery of the Trinity, 54–66. González, 531–536.


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“Unless being implies one univocal intention [i.e. concept], theology would simply perish.” The second citation is basically theological. The final words of this citation are the most important: “But God, under the proper ratio of divinity, is not present to any created intellect other than voluntarily.”163 Human beings can indeed come to some knowledge and love of God, but only on the basis of one univocal intention that provides the bridge between the polarity of infinite and finite being and on the basis that God has voluntarily and initially revealed God’s own self. Bonaventure and Scotus are united in this manner of approach vis-à-vis the human capacity to know and love God. How does chapter five contribute to a theological starting point on which we can develop a theology of church? I have stated above that the manner in that a given theologian presents a theology of God substantially affects all the other subaltern themes in his or her theological investigation. In other words, if one understands the way a given theologian presents a theology of God, he or she will also see how the respective theology of God colors the entire theological enterprise of the given theologian. Ecclesiology is deeply shaped by one’s theology of God. A relational theology of church is possible only if it is based on a relational theology of God. In the Franciscan approach, this sentence is better expressed as follows. A relational theology of church is possible only if it is based on an infinitely free relational theology of God. The Franciscan stress on God’s absolute freedom and on God’s unlimited infinity deeply affects the processes that move us to a relational theology of church. In contemporary western Trinitarian theology, we are blessed by a renewed interest in the Trinity through such diverse writers as Jürgen Moltmann, Wolfhart Pannenberg, Karl Barth, Leonardo Boff, Catherine La Cugna-Mowry, Karl Rahner, Anselm Min, Anne Hunt, Ted Peters, Thomas Torrance, Elizabeth Johnson, and Ramón Panikkar. Generally, the majority of these authors present the Trinitarian vision of Bonaventure as simply a continuation of Anselm and Richard of St. Victor. In doing this, they follow the position of De Régnon. Fortunately, authors such as Zachary Hayes, Konrad Fischer, Jacques Guy Bougerol, Olegario González, Robert Karris, Johannes Freyer,

163

Scotus, Quaestiones Quodlibetales, q. 14, a. 2.

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Ambrogio Van Si Nguyen, Blanco Chavero, Tito Szabó, Leonardo Boff and Luis Iammarrone have made the study of Bonaventure’s relational and trintarian theology a contemporary imperative. With this in mind, let us now consider the contemporary advantages of such a relational theology of God for third millennium Christians.

4. A Contemporary Theology of a Relational God In a fairly detailed way, chapter five has analyzed Bonaventure’s theology of a Trinitarian God. However, this study leads to major questions. Is his theology of God relevant to our contemporary God-questions? Is a study of Bonaventure’s Trinitarian God simply a matter of historical theology or does it merit some value for a globalized and multi-cultural world? Even more apropos to this present volume one might ask: why have I, the author, selected Bonaventure’s theological position on God as one of the major starting points for a relational theology of the church? These are all excellent questions and deserve adequate response. First of all, I cannot propose that Bonaventure’s theology of God should simply be accepted as it is. There are too many medieval aspects to his presentation that in his own context were excellent, but that in our present context are dated. I have explained his theology of God and presented it as a “starting point” not as a “final word.” Secondly, I believe that in his presentation on God there are certain basic issues that correspond positively to a third-millennium theology of God. Three issues in Bonaventure’ theology of God merit our attention today. a. Relationality Bonaventure’s entire presentation of God is relational, both ad intra and ad extra. Since relationality dominates most contemporary and globalized epistemes, a theology of God that is radically relational offers, in my judgement, a major contribution to today’s religious dialogues, in that the issue of God is paramount. Since relational thinking dominates today’s third millennium epistemes, a relational model of a theology of God can be seen as a major first step in contemporary theological discourse.


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I have already noted that one’s theology of God affects the ways in that a theologian develops all other subaltern theological issues, and this includes a theology of church. Since the goal of this volume is to offer a meaningful ecclesiology to a third millennium world, a relational theology of God cannot help but shape and color a contemporary relational ecclesiology. In the second half of the twentieth century, the “Death of God” movement called into question the validity of an entity designated as God. The leaders of this movement argued that the term God had no real meaning, since the term “God” in theological discourse referred to a being that had absolutely no need of human beings or of any creature. Since God had no need or creatures, then creatures have no need of God. Human beings experience a world in which they live that would continue to exist if all God-talk ceased. In the Death of God movement God is a superfluous component in modern and postmodern life. The leaders of this movement, basically Euro-American, focused on the understanding of God that the Euro-American churches were presenting. A secularized world finds such a description of God of little to no value. For Christians, this groundless reality can only be known and accepted by faith. There is no clear-cut “proof ” for the existence of God. Even the arguments of Thomas Aquinas and Bonaventure are propter quia not propter quid arguments. When the issue of faith is brought into the argument, many third millennium people respond that faith can bring to the table many things, but that does not mean the believed items are reasonably acceptable. Moreover, much of current Christian theology presents God who is totally transcendent, a reality that is one and unique, and therefore has no relationship at all with the world we live in. God is all-powerful, all-knowing, and perfect. Such a God has no need of anything finite, limited, time and space-conditioned, or contingent. Such a God has no need to relate to anything that is beyond God. Both in ancient Judaism and in Christianity, the meaning of God has undergone changes as their respective histories progressed. In ancient Judaism, a polytheistic form of God slowly became monotheistic but the monotheistic God of ancient Judaism remained the God of the clan, the God of the Jews. In the course of ancient Jewish history, the monotheistic understanding of God slowly led to a transcendent God that needed no relationship at all to the non-God world. John McKenzie,

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in his detailed study of the names of God found in ancient Judaism, ends his presentation with the name Yahweh. In the Old Testament, McKenzie writes: The name [Yahweh] occurs over 6,700 times and is the usual designation of God, more frequently than all other designations combined. . . . By this name he is proclaimed as the personal divine being who has revealed himself to Israel, who has vindicated himself by the saving acts of the exodus and has established a covenant relationship with the people he has made. The distinctive name “Yahweh” indicates that he is a personal being whose essence and attributes can be shared by no other being.164

In Christianity, God, the Abba of Jesus slowly became the transcendent judge who has no need of human beings and is an unrelational pantokrator. On the other hand, Jesus became the God-man. Nowhere in the Old Testament is there any indication that Yahweh could be incarnated in a human being. The incarnation is a unique position of the followers of Jesus, who were, in the early stages of the Jesus community, all members of the Jewish religion. The view that “the Logos became flesh” departs dramatically from ordinary Jewish thinking. The incarnation is a relational reality: the divine became human in Jesus. The question of how God related to Jesus became the central theological issue from 100 to the Third Council of Constantinople in 680–681. Even at the Council of Chalcedon, the nature of God and the nature of the human Jesus remained distinct. Chalcedon disallowed any mixture of nature. In fact the bishops at Chalcedon presented four ways through that the relation of God to the humanity of Jesus could not be accepted. They then called the relationship “hypostatic,” but this term was undefined at the time of Chalcedon. Only with Boethius (480–524) do we have the first definition of hypostasis. In the seventh century, the Third Council of Constantinople condemned monotheletism, that argued that Jesus only had one will, the divine will. The bishops at this council maintained that there were two wills, one divine and one human. The two wills were related but distinct. This agenda indicates that the Christological issues on the relationship of the Logos and Jesus’ human nature were still going on, two hundred years after Chalcedon.

164 John L. McKenzie, “Aspects of Old Testament Thought,” The New Jerome Biblical Commentary: 1266.


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Is God related to a human being, that is, Jesus, or not? The issue of relationality perdured for centuries. How relational is God became the dominant focus in the Christological disputes from 100 to 681–682. Since then, no official Christian Church leadership has resumed a discussion of the relationship of God to the humanity of Jesus.165 As we have seen, Bonaventure places relationality in the very being or reality of God. In the western Christian tradition, Bonaventure is unique in this relational positioning at the very center of God.166 Divine relations ad intra, as we have seen, are described in Trinitarian terms. Divine relations ad extra, for Bonaventure, are radically connected to the ad intra relations. Anything and everything one says about God must be shaped and colored by divine relationality. Bonaventure’s emphasis on relationality is the first reason I have selected Bonaventure’s theology of God as a major starting point for a theology of church. The second reason for this selection of Bonaventure’s theology is his understanding of being itself as relational. Relational being is, however, only implied in his texts. b. The Relational Meaning of Being Western philosophical and theological thought has been dominated by an understanding of being that has deep roots in classical Greek and Latin philosophy. Being is either something that is conceivable as existing (possible being), or being is that which actually exists (actual being). Being can also refer to the totality of all things that either can be (possible beings) or actually are (actual beings). Whether the focus is on the possible, the actual, or the transcendental, there is an “x”—namely being—that all things share in common. In the fragments of Parmenides’ poem (II to VIII—1–49), we read: I will tell . . . just what ways of enquiry there are, the only ones that can be thought of. The one <way, that tells us> that “is” [hopōs estin], and that it is not possible not to be, is a path of persuasion, for

165 Various Christian theologians over the years have discussed the relationship of the two natures in Christ, but officially the leadership of no Christian Church has entered into a rethinking of the theological position. At best, the official documents repeat the customary position of the Christian community. 166 In the Eastern theological traditions, the emphasis on the economic trinity is widespread. At the same time, there is in the Eastern Churches a tendency to repeat the Cappadocian terminology on the trinity.

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chapter five accompanies truth. The other <way, that tells us> that “is not” [hōs ouk estin], and that it is necessary not to be; this I tell you is a road of which we can learn nothing.167

This passage of Parmenides has been studied and interpreted again and again in western philosophy, for Parmenides gave to western philosophy a central object, namely, being. Through contemporary globalization and multi-culturalism, it has become clear that in today’s wider world, most other languages and cultures do not have a word that coincides with the Western term being. Most people today do not think in an episteme dominated by being. In other contemporary epistemes, there is often some issue that attempts to unify all of reality. This might be an understanding of “the one,” or an understanding of “the way.” The one and the way, however, are not identical with being, but these terms do indicate a search for some unifying factor that gathers together the variety of reality. In the western world, postmodern thought has deconstructed and reconstructed the issue of being. A postmodern epistemology takes into account that in the world around us there is nothing unchangeable and immutable. Human knowledge is, consequently, finite, limited by spacetime, contingent, relational, and not absolute. Moreover, there is also a certain amount of subjectivity in all human knowledge. Edmund Husserl made the deconstruction of the subject-object split that presides over the origin and subsequent unfolding of modern philosophy a major part of his program. In the words of Gary Madison: What Husserl was seeking to accomplish by means of the “reduction” was a thoroughgoing “deconstruction” of the central problematic of modern philosophy itself, namely, the “epistemological” problem of how an isolated subjectivity closed in upon itself, can none the less manage to “transcend” itself in such a way as to achieve “knowledge” of the “external world.”168

Husserl’s call to reunite subjectivity and objectivity is a form of relationality. The subject-object divide had become a major non-relational reality in the western world, since Descartes and the Enlightenment. This divide is altered by a relational philosophy. Maurice Merleau-Ponty dedicated an entire volume, The Primacy of Perception, to a relational and subject-oriented approach of reality and

167 168

Enrico Berti, “Parmenides,” A Guide to Greek Thought: 140. Gary Madison, op. cit., 55.


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this position is evident on almost every page of the book.169 One of his statements that summarizes his thinking occurred in an essay he wrote: “The way you see red and the way I see red are different.”170 Similar epistemological stances that break down the subjective-objective divide can be seen in the following works: Michel Foucault’s Les Mots et les choses; Ferdinand de Sausurre’s Cours de linguistic générale; Jacques Lacan’s Television. A Challenge to the Psycholanalytic Establishement and The Four Concepts of Psychoanalysis; and Paul Ricoeur’s “Consciousness and the Unconscious,” in his volume, The Conflict of Interpretations, and his essay “Herméneutique et critique des idéologies.”171 This list of contemporary western authors who do not accept a subjective-objective divide could be extended. In this Husserlian approach, relativity is present in all thinking and in reality itself. The world is interrelated, as contemporary science shows, and human beings cannot be understood unless their own reality is seen as relational. We are internally related beings through a distinction of ego and self; we are externally related beings though our dependence on space, time, culture, language, atmospheric realities, and contingency. The only being contemporary westerners understand is a relational being. Bonaventure’s implicit acceptance of relational being emphasizes the legitimacy of his thinking as a major starting point for an eventual theology of church. c. The Epistemological Meaning of God Postmodern epistemology, with its widespread relational construct, has reconstructed ontological thinking. In postmodern thinking, reality itself is totally relational. The issue of God is not welcome in much of

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Maurice Merleau-Ponty, The Primacy of Perception. Merleau-Ponty. 171 Michel Foucault, Les Mots et les chose (Paris: Éditions Gallimard, 1966; Ferdinand de Sausurre, Cours de linguistic générale, Eng. trans. by R. Harris, Course in General Linguistics (LaSalle, Illinois; Open Court, 1991); Jacques Lacan, Television. A Challenge to the Psychoanalytic Establishment (New York: Norton, 1992), and The Four Concepts of Psychoanalysis (New York: Norton, 1981); Paul Ricoeur, “Herméneutique et critique des ideologies,” Démythisation et idéologie, (Paris: Aubier Montaigne, 1973, and “Consciousness and Unconsciousness,” The Conflict of Interpretations: Essays in Hermeneutics (Evanston, Illinois: Northwestern University Press, 1974), ed. Don Ihde. In my own volume, Christian Sacraments in a Postmodern World (New York: Paulist Press, 1999) I attempted to rethink sacramental theology from a postmodern philosophical stance. 170

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postmodern thinking, but the postmodern rejection of God is basically a rejection of the Judaeo-Christian God as it as been presented in contemporary Judaeo-Christian religions. In other words, the God who has been rejected is a God that has been presented to the western world during the last four hundred years. A relational theology of God, which is not the kind of God presented during the past four centuries, is a major first step in the development of a meaningful discussion with postmodern thinkers. Globalization and multiculturalism together with a western postmodern episteme have changed the boundaries within which people can and do speak of God. It is one thing for a man like Bonaventure, who lived in a strongly Christian environment, to speak of God and do so in reference to the Christian understanding of God. It is quite another thing today to speak of God in a multicultural and multireligious globalized environment. Bonaventure’s presentation of God has merit today because it is relational to the core. However, this is only a first small step in an effort to bridge the contemporary questioning regarding God. The strong emphasis on God as infinite and God as infinitely free recurs in Bonaventure’s theology of God again and again. He uses such phrases as: infinite simplicity (that implies a communicabilitas, a sharing with others); infinite perfection (perfectio prompta et apta, and a pelagus perfectionis, an unstoppable ocean of exhibiting perfection); infinite firstness (primitas that implies that a persona nata est ex se aliam producere); and infinite love (beatitudo et caritas implying the will and freedom to love others). If all of these are co-infinite with being, then being itself must also be communicabilis, prompta et apta, a pelagus perfectionis, a primitas implying a love in which the will and freedom to relate to others. The length, depth, breadth, and height of infinity in the case of being cannot be longer, deeper, broader, or higher than the infinity of simplicity, perfection, firstness, and love. All infinites have to be coterminous. Therefore, when Bonaventure describes an infinite simplicity, perfection, firstness, and love, the infinity of these four attributes is the same as the infinity of being, and in my view such a being can only be an infinitely relational being. Bonaventure does not speak in the above terms about the radical relationality of being. I am the one making this conclusion. I am indeed stretching Bonaventure’s thought, but it seems to be validated by what he wants to say about relationality, being, and God. I find this relational approach to both being and God an excellent starting point for third millennium epistemes.


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In his own writings, Scotus presents the view of created reality by his philosophical terms of radical contingency, synchronic contingency, and contingent freedom. All of these issues stem from his understanding of God as infinitely free. No created reality can place any necessity on God. The Christian Churches in the last four hundred years of systematic forms of ecclesiology have too often used the phrase “it is necessary” for created situations, especially ecclesial situations. The theologies of these churches have indicated that some created issue or reality is “necessary.” For instance, the natural law is necessarily immutable. Neither Scotus nor Bonaventure would argue for the immutability of natural law qua law. If there is any necessity at all in a law, it is because God freely wills the law to be. This position of Scotus has prompted many people to describe Scotus as a relativist, using relativist in a very negative and disparaging way. It is true that Scotus continually argues for radical contingency that is both synchronic and diachronic, and thus all created realties are indeed notnecessary. Any and every “necessary” characteristic of a created reality is not inbred in the created itself. The necessity comes from God’s free and infinite will, from God’s free and infinite love. The negative side of Christian Churches today has often been rejected by third millennium people because it is seen as an arrogant pose by church leaders to tell human beings what is required (necessary) and what is not required (not necessary). In some Christian Churches the hierarchy has claimed that it was given this power to bind and not bind by Jesus himself. Necessity is the opposite of radical contingency, and no contingent creature, not even a church leader, can claim a personal characteristic of necessity. In the Franciscan approach, all necessity is reserved to a God who is infinitely loving, simple, perfect, primal, and free. This stress on the diffusive and free goodness of God, on God as infinite love, and on the absolute freedom of a relational God, as found in both Bonaventure and Scotus, raises serious questions for contemporary Christian Churches. In the teachings of many contemporary churches there is exclusivity in both doctrine and practice. Connected to exclusivity are issues that some Christians consider necessary and immutable. The Franciscan presentation of radical contingency is a philosophical caveat vis-à-vis the necessary and the immutable, and the Franciscan relational approach to God is likewise a caveat vis-à-vis necessary and immutable doctrines. Relationality, the meaning of being, and an infinitely relational God are three major issues that, in my view, help us understand the theological starting point for a contemporary ecclesiology. It is a starting point

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that embraces radical relationality, a relational understanding of being, and a profound respect for the infinite freedom of a relational God. In my view, this is a relevant and viable starting point. However, it is only a starting point. I am not advocating that Bonaventure’s theology of a Trinitarian God be accepted lock, stock, and barrel. I am advocating that a contemporary in-depth review of his position, as well as that of Scotus, offers an excellent starting point vis-à-vis God, given the paradigmatic changes that are taking place in today’s world. The global approach of Bonaventure’s three books provides a basis to reconsider how one looks at the totality of creation and the cultural diversity of human life. His theory of emanation and illumination can be pressed today beyond the boundaries of Christian thought-patterns. His understanding of the Holy Spirit can also highlight a world beyond the formalized Christian world. With a relativization of the term being itself, Bonaventure moves beyond the normal approach to being that has been adopted by many Christian writers. Bonaventure loved the church, but his theological approach tends to be much more extensive and comprehensive than the boundaries that the contemporary church might permit. World religions, such as Hinduism, Buddhism, Daoism, and Islam, have lengthy histories and large followings. Their respective theologies and liturgies are sacred. In the Christian dialogues with other major religions the God-question often becomes central. • In Hinduism, the issue is complicated by the use of God (singular) and Gods (plural). A quick judgement that Hinduism is polytheistic (in the western understanding of this term) is an affront to Hinduism. Even in Christian theology, particularly in Orthodox theology, divinization is an acceptable term, and a divinized holy person is godly but not another God. The fact that in Orthodox Churches the Greek term θειοσις is used, that is clearly related to the term for God, θεος, is not challenged. Similarly, the Hindu use of the term God and Gods must be more respectfully investigated. A quick dismissal is clearly unacceptable. • Buddhism, that acknowledges no personal God, has at times been labeled as atheistic. Again, the benchmark for such a judgement is a western understanding of atheism. In the long history of Christian theology, a presentation of an apophatic God has been a constant element. God is ineffable, while theology struggles to make God effable. The infinity of God reinforces the ineffable and apophatic dimen-


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sion of God. Likewise, if God is absolutely free, we humans cannot know all the horizons of God's freedom. Buddhism refrains from a discussion of a personal God. Transcendence in Buddhist thought is open-ended. Buddhism honors ineffability and human limitation. The personalization of God appears to them to be a humanization of God. • Islam treasures its belief in one God, Allah. The Qur’an offers a holy or religious aspect for almost every stage and sphere of daily life. The idea of a secularized Islamic state appears to many Muslims as a discrediting of Allah. Moreover, the Qur’an honors Jesus as a prophet and in a very special way honors Mary. Christian history vis-à-vis Islam has not been cordial and suspicions remain even today. This was evident when Benedict XVI visited Turkey. Since Islam does not teach either a trinitarian understanding of God or the divinity of Jesus, some Christians, both Protestant and Catholic, have too often considered Islam as pagan, heathen, and even diabolic. Is Allah the same as the Christian God? Some Christian theologians have said yes, but in many ways there is a difference. Can we Christians learn something about God from a theology of Allah? If the answer is yes and if we Christians might learn something substantial about God that is not contained in our understanding of God, then the Christian side is admitting that Christian faith is not totally complete. But no theology of God will ever be complete, since God is infinitely free. In chapter two of the Itinerarium, Bonaventure writes: Sed quoniam circa speculum sensibilium non solum contingit contemplari Deum per ipsa tanquam per vesitigia, verum etiam in ipsis, in quantum est in eis per essentiam, potentiam, et praesentiam.172

God is personally present in all of creation. Only on this basis does a human person perceive something of God called vestigium in a created reality. Bonaventure is not talking about an effect, but a presence of God’s own self in creation. The panorama of a globalized world is a panorama of God’s all-encompassing presence. No church can encompass God. God is manifest and participating in all of creation. This view moves far beyond cause and effect. It also moves far beyond any comparison with a theory of intelligent design. In his Commentary,

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Bonaventure, Itinerarium, Opera Omnia, V, 299.

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Bonaventure states his position clearly: “Cognoscere Deum in creatura est cognoscere ipsius praesentiam et influentiam in creatura”173 From the latter part of the twentieth century onward, Christian Churches have been in an unprecedented dialogue with non-Christian religions. These dialogues have raised two key issues for Christians: the absoluteness of the Christian faith and the uniqueness of Jesus as savior of all people. The basic issue, however, is not whether a particular religion reflects God. Rather, the basic issue is whether God’s own presence images itself in the particular religion. The focus should be on what God is doing, not on what a church is doing. If a given religion itself, not just individual members of a religious group, merits reverence and respect, then the particular religion itself must be evaluated differently. The evaluation, however, is not focused on the religion itself, but more profoundly on God’s presence in the religion. If God is recognized in particular religion, then the Christians have to ask themselves far-reaching questions about their own position on the absoluteness of the Christian faith and the uniqueness of Jesus as the sole savior of the world. In a theology of an infinite and absolutely free relational God, there is room to move beyond church boundaries. For Christians this requires a humility of the incarnation and not just the glory of the incarnation. If there can be a humility of the incarnation, there certainly can be a humility of ecclesiology. This ecclesial humility is a recognition of the church’s own finitude. God may be infinite, but the church is finite. God may be necessary, but the church is contingent. God may be eternal, but the church is temporal. A recognition of the createdness and contingency of the church and its structures is at the heart of a relational ecclesiology. The church is church only when it reflects Jesus. Its total dependence on Jesus is central for a theology of Church. An absolutizing of the church contradicts the church’s radical dependence on Jesus. A lunar church exists because there is a solar Christ. In this scenario, the church has no light of her own; her only light is a reflection—vestigium and imago—of Jesus. Inter-religions dialogues have not yet arrived at a major state of resolution. Since these dialogues are in many ways unprecedented, none of the partners in these dialogues has an exact road map. The

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Bonaventure, Sent., I, d. 3, p. 1, a. 1, q. 3, Respondeo.


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major success to date is simply this: representatives are able to sit at one and the same table and begin to share an intellectual and spiritual meal together. For Catholic representatives, a theology of an infinite and absolutely free relational God allows them to chart their dialogical structure in a more confident way. A humility of ecclesiology permits them to be open to the presence of God freely manifesting and participating in non-Christian religions. Where these dialogues might end up, remains at this moment of time unclear. In the gospel one reads that God sheds sunlight on all people and thus all people are lunar. They, too, are vestigia, imagines and similitudines of the overwhelming gift of God’s own self to the created world. In the encyclical, Fides et Ratio, John Paul II reiterated an official stance of the Catholic Church, when he wrote: “The Church has no philosophy of her own nor does she canonize any one particular philosophy in preference to others” (49). John Paull II clearly acknowledged in the same encyclical that he was more at home in a philosophy that relies on the insights of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas (43), but he acknowledges that the legitimate autonomy of philosophy must be respected. Much of contemporary Catholic theology that is expressed in official documents of the Vatican relies heavily on philosophical positions. At times, it is either an opposing philosophical issue that is challenged in these documents or the stance taken theologically in these same documents is based primarily on a given philosophy, namely thomism. Antonie Vos notes that “Scholastic thought went into paradoxical obscurity around 1800 after a wonderful career of almost a millennium.”174 Scholars such as Victor Cousin (1792–1867), Émile Bréhier (1876–1952) Wilhelm Joseph Kleutgen (1811–1883), Albert Stöckl (1823–1895l, Maurice De Wulf (1867–1947), Étienne Gilson (1884– 1978), Lambertus de Rijk (1924–), Vicenzo Buzzetti (1777–1824), Serafino Sordi (1793–1865), and Gaetano Sanseverino (1811–1865) helped bring about a renewal of scholastic thought. Another more contemporary group of scholars with interest particularly in the Franciscan philosophical thought include: Gustav Bergmann, W. Park, R. M. Chosholm, G. S. Rosenkrantz, Oliver Boulnois, T. Bath, Gérhard Sondag, Simo Knuuttila, Calvin Normore, Jorge Gracia, Maria Burger, Allan Wolter, Theo Kobusch, Mary Elizabeth Ingham, Mechtilde

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Vos, The Philosophy of John Duns Scotus, 541.

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Dreyer, and Antonie Vos, Johannes Freyer, Ludger Honnefelder. These listings could go on, but the sheer number of such research scholars indicates a major contemporary interest in Franciscan philosophical writers. In the philosophical writings of John Duns Scotus current philosophers have been keenly interested in his presentation of immutabilitycontingency that differs radically from that of Aristotle. They are also interested in his presentation of diachronic and synchronic contingency, as well as in his presentation on the foundations of logic that departed radically from that of Aristotle and opened the door to contemporary modal logic. In other words, the Franciscan philosophical approach has been acknowledged positively by many major philosophical scholars, who also see a connection between the Franciscan approach to philosophy and contemporary philosophical thought. Neo-scholasticism and its many thomistic forms offer one philosophical approach. The Franciscan philosophical approach is different from that of neo-scholasticism. The material in this chapter is crucial for the development of a relational ecclesiology, since one’s theology shapes and suffuses all other subaltern areas of theology, including a theology of church. In other words, in developing a relational theology of church, the primary criterion for very part of ecclesiology is one’s theological approach to God. It is this symbiosis of a theology of God and a theology of church that needs to be maintained. However, even prior from the step from God to church, there are other theological issues which are far more important than a theology of the church. All of these other theological issues shape ecclesiology as well. Only when the integrity of this chain of importance is maintained can one develop a credible theology of church. Our next stage of the journey continues a theology of God, but the focus is not on the ad intra relationality of God but on the ad extra relationality of God. Three issues center this ad extra theology of God: creation, incarnation, and the presence of the Holy Spirit throughout the world. The primary focus of the following chapter is on the interconnection of these three major aspects of Christian theology. Notice that at this stage of the journey, the church is not even mentioned as a formative issue.


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Appendix An Historical Overview of Patristic Christology The following historical overview is intrinsically part of any and every Trinitarian theology. Since it is background to the material in this chapter, it seems best to place it in an appendix, but without the connection of Christology to Trinity, a Trinitarian God makes little sense. The early Christian followers of Jesus did not find in the Semitic episteme a way to describe a relational God who could be incarnated in a human being. Nowhere in the entire Old Testament is there any indication of such an incarnation, nor is such a position found in the inter-testamentary literature. Yahweh was indeed relational but not in a way in that one could say: God became human or the Logos became flesh. The Jewish followers of Jesus realized that the “theology of God” as portrayed in the Jewish writings was a “God-theology” that needed reconsideration. We find this reconsideration particularly in the Gospel of John and in the writings of Paul. However, neither John nor Paul reached a resolution of the God-Jesus issue. After the destruction of the temple, many followers of Jesus moved out of Jerusalem and even Palestine, and slowly, between the years 70 and 110, the followers of Jesus became less Jewish and more Greek. The early Judaeo-Greek followers of Jesus, however, did not find in the then current Hellenistic and Stoic epistemes a way to describe a relational God, who could be incarnated in a human being. Consequently, the Jesus-incarnate issue initiated a rethinking of a Greek “theology of God” through which an incarnation (hence, a profound relationship) could take place. In the redevelopment of a Graeco-Latin theology of God, the followers of Jesus from New Testament times down to the seventh century slowly developed an understanding of a relational God that came to be called trinitarian. The doctrine of the trinity arose because of the christological issues regarding the human Jesus’ relationship to God. The doctrine of the trinity officially ended at the third Council of Constantinople in 681 ce. Since 681 no other official conciliar documents have added anything new to a theology of trinity or, for that matter, to a christology. What linguistic formulations did the early Christian scholars have in order to explain the christological relationship of the God-man? From the scriptures, both Old and New Testaments, the description of God in terms of “father” was abundant. Jesus, in the gospel writings, frequently

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uses the term “father” for God. The term father—following Aristotle’s description of relationship as cited above—of its very nature implies a son or daughter. If there is no son or daughter, one cannot claim to be a father or mother. The fact that a term, already acceptable to the Semitic community, intrinsically implied an actual relationship helped the early followers of Jesus to use this term to describe God’s relationship to Jesus and from there this father-son relationship began to be applied to the internal life of God. The fact that the term “father,” as used in the biblical writings when applied to God, was only metaphorical did not seem to be a hindrance. For the Jewish people, God as father did not imply that God was father in some human and physical sense of the term. All human words, when applied to God, are to some degree metaphorical. In the second century, there were some Christian writers who proposed not a Trinity but a Binity, either Father-Son or Father-Spirit. However, Binity remained a minority position. There were a significant number of early scholars who did not find this binary view adequate either for a theology of God or for a theology of incarnation. Nonetheless, throughout the larger Christian community, there was a lingering hesitation to call the Spirit divine in the same way that the Father and the Logos were called divine. It was at the third Council of Constantinople (681) that the remnants of this binity group were excluded from orthodox Christianity. We may, today, consider this as rather odd, but the presence of these authors on binity indicates to us how lengthy the struggle was among the early Christians over the issue of God as relational and triune and over the issue of the two natures of Jesus. Both the doctrine of the trinity and the doctrine of the incarnation evolved slowly. Many Christians may have personally accepted a trinitarian God, but an official articulation of this belief took centuries to gain an overwhelming assent. Binity did not attain wide acceptance. Rather, early Christian writers continued to move in the direction of trinity. The third component was called Spirit or Holy Spirit. Nowhere in the Old Testament is the “ruah” of God considered Yahweh. The ruah of Yahweh, the spirit of God, played a major role in the sacred Jewish writings. God’s spirit “functions as the creative and life-giving energy of God as well as the power of Yahweh that comes to rest on the judges, kings, and prophets anointed to guide and challenge God’s people.” The monotheism of later Judaism foreclosed any acceptance of the “ruah” of God as divine.


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Trinity, christology, and pneumatology are interconnected. What one says about a trinitarian God has major implications for both christology and pneumatology. What one says about the Incarnate Jesus likewise has major implications about a theology of God and a theology of Spirit. What one says about the Holy Spirit has deep implications for a theology of God and a theology of an Incarnate Jesus. At the Council of Nicaea (325), the bishops stated their belief in the Holy Spirit. “We believe . . . in the Holy Spirit” (Πιστευομεν . . . και εις το αγιον πνευμα). Nothing further was added in this creed to describe the Holy Spirit. As a result, there remained important Christian scholars who did not consider the Spirit as God, and so the debate was not ended but rather it intensified. Fifty-six years later, in 381, another council was convoked, the First Council of Constantinople. It remains unclear whether the bishops at this council actually promulgated a statement regarding the Holy Spirit. However, several decades later, we find in the early church literature a longer version of the Nicene Creed that eventually came to be called the “Nicene-Constantinopolitan Creed.” The addition of the adjective “Constantinopolitan” provided this creed with a certain aura of official status. This creed contains a lengthy and apologetic section on the Holy Spirit. There is both an early Greek version of this creed and an early Latin version of the same creed. Christians today are aware of the Latin version through the liturgical recitation of the creed.: “We believe . . . in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son, and together with the Father and the Son is adored and glorified, and who has spoken through the prophets.” The phrase, and the Son, is not in the Greek text. It was inserted by Latin ecclesiastical leaders because there was a major division between the western and the eastern churches over the Holy Spirit. For the west, the procession of the Holy Spirit is due to both Father and Son. Therefore, in the Latin creed one finds: “who proceeds from the Father and the Son.” The Latin addition indicates the divinity of the Holy Spirit and therefore a trinitarian God. Most of the Christians who were unsure of the divinity of the Spirit were Greek speaking, and so the western scholars in time judged that the Eastern Church that did not agree with the filioque issue, as it came to be called, was not orthodox in its belief. In the Eastern Church, a theology of the trinity was developed on the basis of the christological question: how is Jesus both human and

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divine? It was also based on the pneumatological question: is the Spirit also God? The key theologians who struggled for the correct formulation of a theology of a relational God were the Cappadocians: Basil (d. 379), his brother, Gregory of Nyssa (d. 394) and his friend, Gregory of Nazianz (d. 390). Each of these prominent leaders of the church wrote at great length on the Trinity and their positions have shaped Eastern Church theology down to the present day. The Cappadocians focused on the individual persons of the Trinity: the Father is nonbegotten; the Son is begotten of the Father; and the Spirit proceeds from the Father. Non-generation, generation, and procession provided the theological ideas for a Trinitarian God. Maximos the Confessor (c. 580–662) defended the Cappadocian approach against those who maintained only one energy in God, Monenergism, or only one will in God, Monotheltism. Both of these views were seen as christological heresies. Maximos in an outstanding way stressed the unification of all creation in God’s loving communion. He had both a cosmo-centric and a Christo-centric view of the world. Because of his influence, the Eastern Churches have stressed the union of the immanent Trinity and the economic Trinity. This stress was largely not present in the early and medieval Western theologians.

CHAPTER SIX

A RELATIONAL THEOLOGY OF CREATION, INCARNATION, AND THE SENDING OF THE SPIRIT

In the earlier chapters, we have reviewed the enormous amount of historically conditioned factors that contextualizes the contemporary church. I have indicated the main philosophical issues, taken from the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition that I employ throughout this volume. I have also presented in the last chapter a Franciscan approach to the trinitarian God. Since one’s theology of God colors and shapes all subaltern aspects of systematic theology, one’s theology of God provides the main contextualization for a subaltern ecclesiology. In chapter six, the focus is on three theological issues that are an intricate part of the context for a contemporary renewal of ecclesiology, namely, the theologies of creation, incarnation, and the sending of the Spirit. A theology of creation deserves special attention, since without a created universe there would be no church. A theology of the incarnation deserves special attention, since without Jesus there would be no Christian Church. A theology of the Spirit deserves special attention, since without the sending of the Spirit there would be no mission of holiness in the Christian Church. The theologies of creation, incarnation, and sending of the Spirit are interrelated with one another. However, in the history of Christian theology there have been several different theological positions regarding the interrelationship of these three actiones ad extra of God. The theological diversity on their interrelationship can be found in the New Testament, in early patristic writings, in the systematic theologies of the twelfth to fourteenth centuries, and in the positions of the Anglican, Protestant, Orthodox, and Roman Catholic communities from the Reformation down to the present. Even in the current efforts for an ecumenical and renewed theology of church, the interrelationship of these three issues regarding the actiones ad extra of God evidences substantial division. Moreover, the theological interrelationship of these three actiones Dei ad extra to the actiones Dei ad intra has engendered fundamentally diverse positions. As regards the actiones Dei ad extra of God, the complicating factor vis-à-vis creation is the question of evil. If the creator God only creates

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good things, why is there evil and sin in the world? How does the power, holiness, and justice of God relate to a universe in which evil and sin abound? In the west, a theology of original sin has gradually become center stage as one answer to this presence of good and evil in the world. In the Eastern and Orthodox Churches, there is no operative theology of original sin. Eastern theologians consider the exemplarism of Adam and Eve as the theological base for human sin. Christian scholars from New Testament times onward have presented different theological explanations vis-à-vis salvation as a free gift of God’s grace on the one hand and the role of Jesus and the Spirit in the process of salvation on the other hand. A presentation of the Franciscan approach on this issue is a major focus of chapter six. In order accomplish this Franciscan presentation, I have divided chapter six into seven parts. 1. The immediate context for the medieval theologies of creation 2. The wider context found in the history of theological thought on the meaning of salvation. 3. The position of Bonaventure on creation, incarnation, and the mission of the Spirit and its relevance for today’s third-millennium world. 4. The position of Scotus on creation, incarnation, and the mission of the Spirit and its relevance for today’s third-millennium world. 5. The mystery of evil and the Franciscan tradition. 6. The saving role of the Holy Spirit. 7. Conclusions.

1. The Immediate Context for the Medieval Theologies of Creation Systematic theology began in the twelfth century, and one of the themes that the early systematic theologians addressed was creation. By the thirteenth century, several systematically developed theologies of creation and salvation had been formulated by scholars from the monastic schools and by scholars from the emerging scholastic universities. a. The Chartrian Challenge In a lengthy chapter, “Creation, Angels, Man, and the Fall,” Colish takes the reader through the complex processes which theologically

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and philosophically affected the early stages of a systematic theology of creation.1 She writes: With respect to the doctrine of creation, the agenda was set, not only for Peter (Lombard) but also for his mid-century confrères, by the challenge raised to the traditional exegetical account of creation in Genesis commentary and to the more speculative treatment of the subject found in the patristic tradition by the theories of creation presented by thinkers associated with the school of Chartres. Despite their individual variations in handling it, their project was to develop a Platonic or Neoplatonic understanding of the creation, a task no one had essayed since John Scottus Eriugena in the ninth century, and at the same time to see whether, and how far, it could be integrated with hexaemeral account of Genesis.2

The Chartrian Challenge formulated by the scholars at the monastic school of Chartres stimulated a swirl of theological discussion as regards the issues involved in a theology of creation. Colish states the situation as follows: “Since it was the Chartrians who threw down the gauntlet, it makes sense to begin with the series of creation accounts which they provided, mostly between the 1130s and the mid-1150s.”3 The major issues on this theme of creation had been developed by Bernard of Chartres, and these Chartrian issues remained central to the theological discussions on creation from the twelfth to the fourteenth century and, to a lesser degree, even beyond. Some of the questions are the following: when were angels created and why were they created? These questions posed serious challenges because angels are not mentioned in the Genesis accounts of creation. When was Satan created? Was Satan a fallen angel? These were also serious questions because the view of fallen angels could be found only in patristic literature. Where did the Fathers of the Church get their information? Other serious questions are the following: if the human soul is the form of the body, when was the soul created? Did God have an idea (archetype) of each person’s soul prior to any actual creation of a human being, including Adam and Eve? Were such archetypes created or eternal? If created, did they antedate the Genesis account? These questions were important because neo-platonic philosophy included archetypes, but how could such archetypes conform to the Genesis account of creation in which creation is an action ex nihilo? Was God

1 2 3

Colish, Peter Lombard, 303–397. Ibid., 303–304. Ibid., 305.

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the only cause of creation, or did God use secondary causes, such as archetypes, as well? Was it the one God who created, or did each of the triune persons have a role to play in creation (often triunely described as power, wisdom, and goodness)? Did the four elements of the world constitute the material cause for material beings? Was there an eternal anima mundi? Is the human person the microcosm of creation? Has God created men and women to make up for the number of fallen angels? One could add to this list of questions a totally different set, namely, questions that concern the presence of peccatum or at least malum in the world. If God is good and creation is good, why is there evil and why is there sin? To say that the Chartrian Challenge involved a throwing down of the gauntlet is clear from the multiplicity of issues that in the twelfth century a theology of creation had engendered. Another theologian in the twelfth century who created a storm of questioning on the issue of creation was Bernard Silvestris who produced one of the most thoroughly Platonic and Neo-Platonist treatments of creation, entitled Cosmographia. Bernard Silvestris used the circular argument that implied endless cycles of creation, destruction, and re-creation.4 The scholars of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries inherited these questions and they presented their own theological answers within the context of these questions. Thomas, Albert, Bonaventure, and Scotus were profoundly contextualized by the way they constructed their questions and formulated their responses to these Chartrian positions. The use of a single phrase, for instance, anima mundi, indicates that the author was facing a question-and-answer that had already been articulated in the twelfth century and that was still highly controversial in the thirteenth century. The theologies of creation developed by Thomas, Albert, Bonaventure, and Scotus might seem to present a serene and systematic context, but if one has any insight into the history of creation in its systematic and theological origins, one realizes that there is a swirling tide of issues beneath any semblance of thirteenth century serenity. Their theologies of creation were pre-programmed to some degree by the Chartrians and by the neo-platonic work of Bernard Silvestris.

4 Ibid., 306; see Bernard Silvestris, Cosmographia, ed. Petter Dronke (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1978).


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b. The Challenge from Peter Lombard A second important background to the medieval issue of creation comes from Peter Lombard’s Four Books of the Sentences that appeared in 1150. In Liber One, Distinctio XV, Peter Lombard uses two terms to describe the sending of the Logos and the Spirit into our universe, namely, mission and manifestation. The incarnation of the Logos in the human nature of Jesus is an action of God ad extra but it is also a missio from God and a manifestatio of God. The same can be said of the sending of the Spirit, which is an action of God ad extra but the sending is also a missio from God and a manifestatio of God.5 Peter Lombard seems to have borrowed both terms from Augustine and Bede the Venerable. Since Peter Lombard’s Four Books of the Sentences shaped theological discussion for centuries, the use of these terms, missio and manifestatio, is abundant throughout the theological literature from the twelfth century to the sixteenth century. The first of these terms is missio. Missio ad extra is also called a temporal procession ad extra in contradistinction to the divine procession ad intra.6 In a homily by Bede the Venerable (673–735) and cited by Peter Lombard we hear: Cum Spiritus sancti datur hominibus, profecto mittitur Spiritus a Patre, mittitur et a Filio; procedit a Patre, procedit et a Filio, quia et eius missio est ipsa processio. His verbis aperte ostendit, donationem gratiae Spiritus sancti dici processionem vel missionem eiusdem. Sed cum donatio vel datio not sit nisi temporalis, constat quia et haec processio sive missio temporalis est.7

In the Lombard’s lengthy citations from Augustine, we again hear the term missio: “In promptu est intelligere de Spiritu sancto, cur missus et ipse dicatur” (italics added).”8 Mission and temporal procession technically mean the same thing. The sending of the Spirit and the sending of the Logos are both, in theological terms, a mission and a temporal procession ad extra. The second term is manifestatio. The missions of the Logos and the Spirit ad extra are called visible missions, and because of this Peter 5

Peter Lombard, Libri IV Sententiarum, I, d. 14, passim. Ibid., I, d. 14, c. 1. The title of c. 1 reads: “De gemina processione Spiritus sancti, temporali et aeterni.” 7 Ibid., I, s. 14, c, 1, 120, in which Lombard cites Bede’s Homily for the first Sunday after the Ascension (PL 94, 182). 8 Ibid., I, d. 16, c. 1, in which Lombard, cites Augustine, De Trinitate, L. 2. 6

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Lombard along with Augustine uses the term manifestatio.9 For the Logos, the visible manifestatio is the human nature of Jesus. For the Spirit, the visible manifestatio is not reduced to a single, individuated nature. Augustine had enumerated several manifestationes of the Spirit that he had found in other writers: in the dove hovering over Jesus at his baptism, in the sudden noise and gust of wind at Pentecost, and in the tongues of fire above the heads of the disciples. Augustine calls these appearances of the Spirit “temporal” manifestationes.10 Bonaventure discusses Distinctio XV of Peter Lombard and he describes manifestatio in detail.11 He first presents the position that every visible mission of either the Logos or the Spirit can be called an apparition, but not every apparition of God is a mission. He does not accept this latter view, noting that an identification of manifestation and apparition is theologically inadequate. A visible mission of both Logos and Spirit requires three factors: every manifestation must be operans, inhabitans, and emanans. He argues that these three characteristics add something to a mere apparition. That additional something is signification. Thus, the manifestations of the Logos and the Spirit are not simply apparitions of the invisible God; they are likewise effective (operans), inhabiting (inhabitans), and signifying (emanans). In the last chapter, I commented on the use of vestigium, imago, and similitudo in Bonaventure, and noted that these three presences of God in creatures were expressive of God’s own presence. Bonaventure describes vestige, image, and similitude as effective (operans), inhabiting (inhabitans), and signifying (emanans). They are not simply apparitions of God; they are manifestations of God, using manifestation in a dynamic and signifying way. In the human nature of Jesus, the Logos is not merely “appearing,” in a way similar to the appearance of God to Moses in the burning bush or to Jacob in the wrestling with the angel. The Logos is effectively present in the human nature of Jesus (operans); the Logos inhabits the human nature of Jesus (inhabitans); and the human nature of Jesus signifies or sacramentalizes the presence of God (emanans).

9 Ibid., I. d. 16, c. 1, for which the title reads: “De missione Spiritus sancti, quae fit duobus modis, visibiliter et invisibiliter.” In the text itself (138) a similar wording is used. 10 Ibid., I, d. 16, c. 1: “. . . missio Spiritus sancti dicta est . . . ut exterioribus visis, corda hominum commota a temporali manifestatione venientis, ad occultam aeternitatem semper presentis converterentur.” 11 Bonaventure, Sent., I. 1, d. 16, qq. 1, 2, 3.


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As regards the manifestation of the Spirit, almost all scholastic theologians agree that there is no union of the Spirit to an individuated creature similar to the hypostatic union of the Logos to the individuated human nature of Jesus. In other words, the Spirit is neither hypostatically united to the dove hovering over Jesus at his baptism, nor is the Spirit hypostatically united to the flames of fire hovering over the disciples gathered in the upper room. The phrase, hypostatic union, refers to a union of God that involves a single created reality, namely the human nature of Jesus. During the course of history, however, the Spirit of God has been sent time and time again to be effective in certain visible ways to various individuals. In these instances, one can speak of a missio and manifestatio of the Spirit even in the centuries preceding the incarnation. These manifestations of the Spirit are operans, inhabitans, and emanans. Bonaventure focuses on the holiness of the Spirit. The Spirit is effective in making the soul holy (operans and inhabitans). All of this is internal to a human person. However, the manifestation of the Spirit goes far beyond something internal. This “going beyond,” Bonaventure notes, is manifestatio as signifying (emanans). Signifying is not internal; rather, the external manifestation points to the presence of the Spirit or to God. Manifestation, consequently, is relational, since an “x” is manifested to a “y”. In their visible and perceptible actions, holy people manifest the Spirit to the people they meet.12 I have found the structure of his first Book of the Sentences amazing. In the first book of Sentences, Peter Lombard addresses the single issue: De Dei Unitate et Trinitate. From its opening question, Quaestio I, Distinctio I, down to Distinctio XIV, Lombard presents a theology of God’s internal nature focusing on the missiones ad intra through which one can speak of God as both one and triune. His theme throughout this lengthy section is on the internal Trinity of God. However, when the reader comes to Distinctiones XV–XVIII, Peter Lombard enlarges

12

In the late thirteenth century, the divisive issue centered on God’s love and the human will. Henry of Ghent and Godfrey of Fontaines maintained that the presence of the loving Spirit in the human person allowed one to say that he or she loved God, since the Spirit in him/her was the agent who loved God. In Scotus’ view, this position belittled the human will. Scotus, therefore, maintained that our human will was capable of loving God through the grace of the Spirit. If the action of sanctification is totally that of the Spirit, then holiness is simply an external aspect of spirituality. See Kenan Osborne, “A Scotistic Foundation for Christian Spirituality,” Vita Evangelica, ed. M. Cusato and J. F. Godet-Calogeras (St. Bonaventure, New York: The Franciscan Institute, 2006): 363–405.

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his focus from the missiones ad intra to include the missiones ad extra of both the Logos and the Spirit. A theologian might legitimately ask: why in the middle of a presentation of the trinity does Peter Lombard break his ad intra trinitarian focus and move into a lengthy discussion of the missiones ad extra? Almost all the major theologians from the thirteenth to fifteenth centuries, who commented on the Book of the Sentences, did the same thing. In their respective commentaries on Peter Lombard’s text, Liber I, Quaestio I, Distinctiones I–XIV, they too focused on the ad intra trinitarian missions only to refocus in Distinctiones XV–XVIII on the ad extra missiones and manifestationes of the Logos and the Spirit.13 After this digression that is from Distinctio XIX to Distinctio XLVIII the respective authors, including Peter Lombard, return to a discussion on the internal mystery of the Trinity. It is this digression that involves creation and the missions and manifestations of both Logos and Sprit ad extra which amazes me. In the ad extra discussions in the medieval commentaries, theologians including Peter Lombard himself, only briefly mention the mission and manifestation of the Logos. The sending of the Logos, they state, will be covered in Liber II, in which the focus is on christology. The burden of material in these distinctions, therefore, centers on the mission and manifestation of the Spirit. The major issue that these distinctions indicate is as follows. God’s act of creation, an actio ad extra, is an action of the Triune God. Creation is not attributed to a single person of the Trinity. Creation is an actio ad extra of the one Triune God. Creation, however—and this is a major position—is itself intrinsically connected to the sending and manifestation (missio and manifestatio) of both the Logos and the Spirit. Consequently, the ad extra activity of God is a combination of three ad extra realities: creation itself, the missio and manifestatio of the Logos, and the missio and manifestatio of the Spirit. The divine actions ad extra can be considered as una actio divina ad extra tripliciter inetegrata. This same single but triplex actio ad extra of God also related to the ad intra missions of the trinitarian relations themselves. There is a fundamental interrelationship among the following three realities:

13 At this juncture in their writings, these authors, including Peter Lombard, make mention of the missio of the Logos together with the missio of the Spirit. Generally, they indicate that the mission of the Logos will be fully discussed in their commentaries on Liber II in which Christological issues are presented.


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a. the ad intra missions of God, i.e., the trinitarian relationships. b. the ad extra creation of the world by God. c. the ad extra missions and manifestations of both Logos and Spirit. In the last chapter, Trinitarian relationality was not presented as an “add on” to the nature of God. Rather, the nature of God was presented as radically relational in itself. In this chapter, relationality is presented as a radical aspect of creation itself, since relation is also intrinsically related to the incarnation of the Logos and the sending of the Spirit. These last two missiones and manifestiones are not “add ons” to the creative act of God. The three acts of God ad extra are intimately interrelated to the trinitarian ad intra relations and to each other. A diagram illustrates this over-arching and theological interrelationality. A relational theology of creation ———————————→ ←—– A relational theology of the incarnation of the Logos, all related to the i.e., the missio and manifestatio of the Logos ———–→ ←—– actiones ad intra of God A relational theology of the sending of the Spirit, i.e., the missio and manifestatio of the Spirit ———––→ ←—–

The diagram indicates through the symbols → and ← the relationship of the ad extra to the ad intra actiones of God. The diagram also indicates through the symbol the interrelation of creation, the mission and manifestation of the Logos, and the mission and manifestation of the Spirit. In this multi-faceted interrelationality, only the inner relations of the triune God can be designated as necessary. The other interrelations stem freely God’s infinite love. There is no necessity for creation, for the mission and manifestation of the Logos, and for the mission and manifestation of the Spirit. All three actions ad extra are contingent and their interrelationship is also contingent. c. The Challenge from Anselm of Canterbury and from Peter Abelard The third and last challenge from the twelfth century stems from the writings of Anselm of Canterbury and Peter Abelard. Anselm was the first theologian to develop a systematic theology of salvation, which he

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does in Cur Deus Homo.14 Peter Abelard, who was less systematic, developed a different understanding of salvation in his Theologia Christiana, later revised as Theologia Scholarium.15 Anselm’s theological approach to salvation has come to be called the Victim Theory or Satisfaction Theory, and Abelard’s theological approach to salvation has received the title the Illuminator Theory or Revealer Theory. In the thirteenth century, Albert, Thomas, Bonaventure, and Scotus inherited both of these views of redemption or salvation, together with a third approach called the Victor Theory, that had been dominant in the patristic period.16 In the sixteenth century, both Luther and Calvin were also dependent on the three traditions regarding their theologies of redemption. In the nineteenth century, Schleiermacher accommodated Anselm’s approach in order to dovetail with his theology centered in the “feeling of absolute dependence.” In the twentieth century, René Girard, Raymund Schwager, James Alison and Anthony Bartlett continue to struggle with the issue of Jesus’ death as sacrifice.17 In theological history, redemption has had a variety of expressions. Francis Schüssler Fiorenza expresses the situation as follows: Although redemption is central to Christian faith, its conception and understanding has never been an immediate and direct object of ecclesial or conciliar definition. . . . Nevertheless, redemption remains a pivotal conception around which much turns: the understanding of sin and grace, the church and sacraments, creation and eschatology, Christ and his mission.18

14 Anselm of Canterbury, Cur Deus Homo in Sancti Anselmi cantuariensis archiepiscopi opera omnia (Stuttgart: Friedrich Fromann Verlag, 1968). V. 2: 47–133. 15 Peter Abelard, “Commentary on the Epistle of Paul to the Romans,” Petri Abaelardi Opera Theologica (Turnholt: Brepols, 1969), edd. C. S. F. Buytaert and C. J. Mew, v. XI. For an analysis of Peter Abelard’s position on redemption, see Thomas Williams, “Sin, grace, and redemption,” The Cambridge Companion to Abelard (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004, edd. J. E. Brower and K. Guilfoy: 258–278; and Rolf Peppermüller, “Erlösung durch Liebe: Abaelards Soteriologie,” Peter Abaelard: Leben—Werk—Wirkung, (Freiburg: Herder, 2003), edd. Hans-Wolfgang Krautz et al.: 115–127. At the end of his essay, Peppermüller writes: “Abaelards neues, personales Konzept einer Lehre von der Erlösung/Versöhnung scheint nach senem Tode schnell in Vergessenheit geraten zu sein; es findet sich nur noch bei seinen unmittelbaren Schülern” 126. 16 The three titles are used by Gustav Aulén, Jesus the Victor, (New York: Macmillan, 1969), Eng. trans. A. G. Hebert. Aulén’s volume has enjoyed a wide reception in today’s theological world. 17 See Ormerod, 102–108. 18 Francis Schüssler Fiorenza, “Redemption,” The New Dictionary of Theology, edd. J. Komonchak, M. Colins, and D. Lane, (Wilmington, Delaware: Michael Glazier, 1987): 837.


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From the twelfth and thirteenth centuries onward, a number of key issues were developed theologically, but as Fiorenza reminds us, none of them have ever become a defined teaching of the Christian Church. I will elaborate on the issue of a theology of salvation in the following section of this chapter.

2. The Wider Context on the Meaning of Salvation Found in the History of Theological Thought From New Testament times onward, there have been various explanations of the issue of Jesus’ relationship to creation. There have also been various theological positions on the relationship of Jesus’ death to the salvation of the world. The role of the holy Spirit vis-à-vis creation and salvation has also been presented in a variety of theological ways. An adequate presentation of these theological explanations would involve a lengthy volume in itself. In the following pages, I can only offer a brief overview and comment on the issue. a. New Testament Data The earliest extant written material on Jesus comes from the letters of Paul. In the letter to the Philippians, Paul brings together the preexistent Jesus Christ (2:5) with creation, incarnation, death, and exaltation (2:6–7). The pre-existent Jesus was already in the form of God, but he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness and found in human appearance. In other words, the preexistent Jesus antedates the incarnation but was sent (missio) by God and manifested in and through the incarnation. Even more, the incarnate Christ became obedient to death, and because of this obedience God exalted him above every name so that the world could confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father (2:8–11). In this hymn, Jesus is pre-existent. He is sent to us and made manifest in his human nature. He suffered a death on the cross and God exalted him for the salvation of all. Although it was written much later (80–90), the hymn cited in the Letter to the Colossians presents in a Pauline way the view that Jesus Christ was co-existent with creation. He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For in him were created all things in heaven and on earth, the visible and the invisible, whether thrones or dominations or principalities of powers; all

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In the author’s view, creation is intrinsically united to Jesus and vice versa. The union of Jesus to creation is also found in the letter to Ephesians (1:3–10). In the text from Ephesians, God had an eternal purpose for creation that he accomplished in Christ Jesus the Lord. Creation and the missio and manifestatio of the incarnate Logos are intrinsically united in all three of these texts. These three texts were widely cited by subsequent patristic and early theological writers who united creation to the mission and manifestation of Jesus. D. J. Unger in a series of articles that appeared in Franciscan Studies analyzed the writings of major patristic authors: Maximus the Confessor, Anastasius of Sinai, Cyril of Alexandria, Irenaeus, John Damascene, Isaac of Niniveh, and Athansius.19 All of these early Fathers and theologians unite Jesus with creation. During this same time period, however, we find another theological presentation on the relationship of creation to the missio and manifestatio of the Logos in Jesus’ human nature. Although the three hymns above are in the Pauline literature, Paul’s writings also contain a view that the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus were central to God’s plan of salvation. Joseph Fitzmyer presents a multi-faceted analysis of Paul’s christocentric soteriology.20 For Paul, there is an historical dimension to God’s plan of salvation that Paul describes in three phases. The first phase is from Adam to Moses (Rom. 5:13–14; Gal. 3:17) which is “the lawless period when human beings did evil indeed, but when there was no imputation of transgressions.”21 The second period takes place from Moses to Jesus, the Messiah. During this period the “Law was added” (Gal. 3:19; Rom. 5:20), and humanity was imprisoned until it reached maturity (Gal. 3:23). During this period of time the Law was supreme and human sins were imputed as transgressions of it. The third period is the time of the Messiah (Χριστòς), who is the end of the Law (Rom. 10:4), and men and women find themselves justified by faith (Gal. 3:24) through their works of love (Gal. 5:6).22 Paul’s use of the three periods

19 Dominic J. Unger, Franciscan Studies 1945–1949. For the bibliographical details of Unger’s articles, see Michael Meilach, The Primacy of Christ (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1964), 200. 20 Joseph Fitzmyer, “Pauline Theology,” New Jerome Biblical Commentary: 1388–1402. 21 Ibid., 1391. 22 Ibid., 1391.


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in human and then Jewish history raises the question: what did salvation mean for the Jewish people who live before Jesus? Salvation in the Old Testament is an extremely complex issue.23 Before the second century bce, the Jewish people did not believe in the survival of the individual after death. On this matter, ancient Israel differed substantially from the Egyptian approach which did include a form of human life after death. Ancient Israel was more closely allied to the thinking of Mesopotamia and Canaan which considered death as the final end of human living. For the Jewish people neither the soul nor the spirit survived after death. “Sheol is not a form of survival but a denial of survival; all come to Sheol and the good and evil of life cease there.”24 Only in the Maccabean period, 175 bce onward, do we begin to find a Jewish voice on life after death, namely, Daniel, 12:2: “Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake; some shall live forever, others shall be an everlasting horror and disgrace.” One can also find an intimation of life after death in the first two chapters of Wisdom, which was written in the first century bce and is indicative of Greek influence. Even in the inter-testamentary Jewish literature, the acceptance of a life after death progressed slowly. At the time of Jesus, many Jewish people such as the Sadducees did not believe in life after death. For over a thousand years, salvation for the vast majority of Jewish people was not personal salvation. For the Jewish people salvation was simply political and religious. It was political because God would make Jerusalem a peaceful center for the Jews and (perhaps) for the entire world. People would then live in security and safety (salvation). It was religious, since it was God who brings about this form of “salvation.” The message of Jesus does not correspond to the fulfillment of this long-standing Jewish view of salvation. For Jesus, salvation was neither political nor religious in the manner in which the majority of Jews understood salvation. As a result, it is difficult to look through the writings of the Old Testament and find a basis for salvation as it was presented by Jesus. In this sense, there is no clear promise in the Old Testament and clear fulfillment in the New Testament. Rather, Jesus’ message, with its belief in life after death, presents us with a different understanding of salvation. 23 See John L. McKenzie, “Aspects of Old Testament Thought,” New Jerome Biblical Commentary: 140–178. 24 Ibid., 170.

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In the New Testament, there are several passages of major significance for the understanding of salvation. In I Corinthians we read: “For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures” (15:3). Paul clearly indicates that around 53 ce, when he wrote this letter, there was already a traditional teaching in the Christian community that Jesus had not only died but that he had died “for our sins,” and that this view was in accordance with the sacred writings of the Jewish people (κατα τας γραφάς). Earlier on in the same letter, Paul had described what he had learned from tradition concerning the final supper of Jesus: “For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus, on the night he was handed over, took bread, and after he had given thanks, broke it and said, ‘This is my body that is for you’ (τουτό μου εστιν τό σωμα τò υπερ υμων)” (11:24). Other citations from the New Testament could be cited which indicate that the death of Jesus was considered salvific.25 In his volume, Jesus: An Experiment in Christology, Edward Schillebeeckx, draws together the three main New Testament interpretations of the death of Jesus.26 The Jesus-communities in the apostolic age were beset by two major problems: first, how to interpret the ignominious death of Jesus and at the same time retain his exalted position as messiah; second, how to explain the delay of the parousia. In the material regarding the first issue, assembled by Schillebeeckx, we see that the early Christians attempted to interpret theologically the death of Jesus in the following three ways: 1. The death of Jesus was interpreted as that of a martyr-prophet. This view has some basis in the Sacred Writings of the Jewish people; 2. The death of Jesus was interpreted as a part of salvation history; 3. The death of Jesus was interpreted as an event which had a saving efficacy.27

25

See Mk 10:45; Acts 5:30; I Pet 1:18; and Col 1:20. Edward Schileebeeckx, Jesus, An Experiment in Christology (New York: The Seabury Press, 1979), Eng. trans. by Huber Hoskins, 272–319. 27 Ibid., 274. 26


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Schillebeeckx treats each of these interpretations in detail, citing passages from the Old and New Testaments for each respective position. At the end he offers the following summation. All that we have established so far is that in early Christianity there were three complexes of tradition, existing side by side, in which Jesus’ death is variously interpreted, three blocks of tradition all of which appear to be very old, but with no very cogent ground for assigning any chronological order to them.28

In the New Testament there are, accordingly, several attempts to provide a “theology” for the ignominious death of Jesus. No one view dominates the New Testament writings. Rather, we find in the various presentations on this issue the struggle of the Jesus-communities during the apostolic age to come to grips with an understanding of Jesus’ death in relationship to Jesus’ role as messiah (Χριστος). The meaning of salvation, consequently, is in the New Testament multi-valent. b. The Early Church The same struggle over the meaning of the death of Jesus continued into the Christian communities during the sub-apostolic age (c. 90 to 200). During this period, several baptismal creeds provide us with data which indicates their attempts to provide a theology regarding Jesus’ death. In these earliest Creeds, Symbola Primitiva as Denzinger calls them; Jesus is at times referred to as σωτήρ (savior).29 The word savior, however, appears in these Creeds without any further identification.30 In the second, third, and fourth centuries, many Latin and Greek writers simply state that Jesus died by crucifixion under Pontius Pilate. Such a straightforward statement is found in Hippolytus, Ambrose, Augustine, Peter Chrysologus, and Tyarranius Rufinus.31 The seventh century Sacramentarium of Florence also reads in a straightforward way; “Sub Pontio Pilato crucifixus est et sepultus.”32 No other indication indicates what the crucifixion theologically implied.

28

Ibid., 294. Denz., 1–6. 30 Denz., 1; in the Ethiopic text of Epistola apostolorum, and in the Coptic version (Denz., 3), the term savior is a later addition. In the interrogatory form of the Ethiopic version, (Denz., 4), Jesus is called savior with no further identification. 31 Denz., 10–16. 32 Denz., 17. 29

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Only in fourth century creedal statements does a further theologizing of the death of Jesus begin to appear. Macarius the Great describes the death of Jesus as follows: σταυρωθέντα υπέρ ημων.33 In the Profession of Faith after Baptism of the Ethiopian Church, we read that Jesus “died on the cross for our salvation.” No further explanation as regards the meaning of “for us” or “for our salvation” is put forward.34 In the Nicene Creed a similar cryptic phrase is used: “For our sake, he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered, died, and was buried.”35 The phrase, “for our sake,” offers a minimal theological interpretation. One can conclude from these early passages that the followers of Jesus were simply at an initial stage of interpreting the meaning of such phrases as “Jesus is savior” and “Jesus died for our sins.” The judgement of J. N. D. Kelly regarding a theology of redemption in the first centuries remains valid. He writes: The development of the Church’s ideas about the saving effects of the incarnation was a slow, long drawn-out process. Indeed, while the conviction of redemption through Christ has always been the motive force of Christian faith, no final and universally accepted definition of the manner of its achievement has been formulated to this day. Thus it is useless to look for any systematic treatment of the doctrine in the popular Christianity of the [sub-apostolic] age.36 The student who seeks to understand the soteriology of the fourth and early fifth centuries will be sharply disappointed if he expects to find anything corresponding to the elaborately worked out syntheses which the contemporary theology of the Trinity and the Incarnation presents. In both these latter departments, controversy forced fairly exact definitions on the Church, whereas the redemption did not become a battle-ground for rival schools until the twelfth century, when Anselm’s Cur deus homo (c. 1097) focused attention on it. Instead, he must be prepared to pick his way through a variety of theories, to all appearance unrelated and even mutually incompatible, existing side by side and sometimes sponsored by the same theologian.37

In the theological history on the meaning of salvation, three major approaches slowly gained a fairly systematic framework: Jesus the Victor, the Victim, and the Revealer. Each of these three major approaches

33 34 35 36 37

Denz., 55. Denz., 63. Catechism of the Catholic Church, cited between 184–185. J. N. D. Kelly, Early Christian Doctrines (London: Continuum, 2004), 163. Ibid., 375.


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differs from the other two, even though they focus on the same theme of redemption.38 In the first half of the twentieth century, J. Rivière wrote several volumes on the issue of redemption: Le dogme de la rédemption: essai d’étude historique (1905); Le dogme de la rédemption, Études critiques et documents (1931); Le dogme de la rédemption chez saint Augustine (1933); Le dogme de la rédemption après saint Augustine (1933); and Le dogme de la rédemption au debut du moyen-âge (1934).39 In these volumes, Rivière sub-divides the three main categories into a fairly large number of differing sub-categories. In other words, Rivière spells out the nuanced and plentiful theological understandings of the term salvation or redemption. Gustav Aulén in his volume, Christus Victor: An Historical Study of the Three Types of the Idea of Atonement, focuses on the historical development of the three main theological frameworks for the meaning of salvation.40 Other names can be added to this list: F. W. Dillistone, The Christian Understanding of Atonement; Dieter Wiederkehr, Belief in Redemption: Explorations in Doctrine from the New Testament to Today; Edward Schillebeeckx, Jesus: An Experiment in Christology; and Neil Ormerod, Creation, Grace and Redemption.41 The Orthodox Churches, in their theological tradition, developed different theological views on Jesus as savior. The Orthodox positions likewise indicate that no one view is either predominant or mandatory. Whenever one hears that a given interpretation of salvation is the “teaching of the church,” such a statement can only mean that a

38 A. Tanquerey, Synopsis Theologiae Dogmaticae, v. II, 1151–1159. Tanquerey clearly prefers the view that Jesus died as a payment of satisfaction to God for our sins. 39 Jean Rivière, Le dogme de la rédemption, Études critiques et documents (Louvain: Bureau de la Revue, 1931); Le dogme de la rédemption chez saint Augustine (Paris: Gabalda, 1933); Le dogme de la rédemption après saint Augustine (Paris: Gabalda, 1933); and Le dogme de la rédemption au debut du moyen-âge (Paris: J. Vrin, 1934). 40 Gustav Aulén, Christus Victor, 1–4 (the tradition account, Jesus the victim); 4–15 (the classical tradition, Jesus the victor; 95–98 (the devotional account, Jesus the illuminator. 41 Frederick W. Dillistone, The Christian Understanding of Atonement (Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1964); Dieter Wiederkehr, Glaube an Erlösung. Konzepte der Soteriologie vom Neuen Testament bis heute (Freiburg: Herder, 1976); Edward Schillebeeckx, Jesus: An Experiment in Christology; and Neil Ormerod, Creation, Grace and Redemption. One could add René Girard, I See Satan Fall like Lightning (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2001); Raymund Schwager, Jesus in the Drama of Salvation: Toward a Biblical Doctrine of Redemption (New York: Crossroads, 1999); and Anthony W. Bartlett, Cross Purposes: The Violent Grammar of Christian Atonement (Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: Trinity Press, 2001).

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particular theological view is preferred by official church leadership of a given period of time. Consequently, every contemporary presentation of a Christian theology regarding Jesus as savior and the meaning of salvation should be prefaced with the phrase: “There has never been a defined teaching on the meaning of salvation.” However, in many Christian writings today, no such caveat is present. A “theology of salvation” is too often expressed as though such a theology is a “defined” teaching of the Church. An example of this approach can be found in the Catechism of the Catholic Church. There is a section entitled: “Outside the Church there is no salvation” (846–848). The section itself begins with a question and an answer: How are we to understand this affirmation, often repeated by the Church Fathers? Re-formulated positively, it means that all salvation comes from Christ the Head through the Church which is his Body (846).

Many Christians—Anglican, Orthodox, Protestant, and Roman Catholic— have heard this question and answer before. Since there is no defined Church teaching on the meaning of salvation, one can legitimately ask: what does the term “salvation” mean in this statement from the Catechism? and, depending on the meaning (which is evidently varied), which salvation comes to us from Jesus through the Church? The Church’s exclusive claim regarding salvation is not my central focus; rather, my central focus is on the Church’s claim regarding salvation itself. One cannot claim something, if that “something” is not clear. c. The Western Systematic Theological Approach to Jesus as Savior Colish’s volume, Peter Lombard, is once more of great value, particularly the material in chapter three,” The Problem of Theological Language,” in chapter six, “The Creation, Angels, Man and the Fall,” and in chapter seven. “Christ, His Nature, and His Saving Work.”42 One may disagree with some of her conclusions, but the contextual backdrop of twelfth century theology offers us the context for the major questions of the thirteenth century theologians. Thomas, Albert, Bonaventure and Scotus, did not theologize in a thirteenth century vacuum; they had to address issues and use terminology which had been discussed, honed,

42

Colish, op. cit., chapter 3, 91–154; chapter 6, 301–397, and chapter 7, 398–470.


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and debated throughout the twelfth century. The theological discussions in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries are foundational for the soteriological thought from the fourteenth century to the twenty-first century. However, before we consider the three soteriological positions in detail, I would like to review the main teachings of the Anglican, Protestant, and Roman Catholic Churches on a different issue which is central for soteriology: namely, the issue of grace and good works. Every created being has come into being because of God’s free will. Bonaventure and Scotus would define this act of God more carefully: every created being has come into reality due to the infinitely free God who is bonum sui diffusivum. The goodness of all creation comes from God’s infinite goodness and absolute freedom. All created reality is contingent, relative, temporal, spatial, historical, and not necessary. All created realities are fundamentally good, since God does not create evil things. Human life itself is a freely-given gift from God, and therefore human life is contingent, finite, and unnecessary. The opening chapters of Neil Ormerod’s volume, Creation, Grace, and Redemption, gather together the major ideas on God as Creator and human life as part of God’s creation.43 He addresses the historical views of the origin of the world; he touches on the positions found in world religions; and he faces up to the current issues in the physical sciences which challenge a naïve approach to creation. In Christian theology, the major relationship of God to a human person has been called grace. It is precisely this kind of grace-relationship which is involved in soteriology, and grace in Anglican, Orthodox, Protestant, and Roman Catholic theology is completely gratuitous. At the time of the Reformation, a major division between the Roman Church and the Reformers took place over the issue of grace and good works. Since grace is a gift and totally gratuitous, no human action can “cause” God to give grace. This was the Reformer’s unyielding position. The Council of Trent in its Decree on Justification, promulgated in 1547, makes the issue of the gratuity of justification in Catholic thought crystal clear.44 In the Decree on Justification we read:

43 44

Ormerod, Creation, Grace, and Redemption, 1–45. Denz., 1510–1583.

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chapter six De naturae et legis ad iustificandos homines imbecillitate (Denz. 1521, Title of Chapter One). Declarat praeterea, ipsius iustificationis exordium in adultis a Dei per Christum Iesum praeveniente gratia sumendum esse, hoc est, ab eius vocatione, qua nullis eorum exisistentibus meritis vocantur (Denz. 1525). Si quis dixerit, sine praeveniente Spiritus Sancti inspiratione atque eius adiutorio hominen credere, sperare et diligere aut paenitere posse, sicut oportet, ut ei iustificationis gratia conferatur: a. s (Denz. 1553).

Key words appear in these statements. In the first citation, which is the title of chapter one, we hear that men and women are “impotent” vis-à-vis their justification (De . . . imbecillitate). In the second citation, we read that we are saved but this is not due to any existing merits (qua nullis eorum existentibus meritis vocantur). In the third citation, we read that if anyone believes that human justification takes place without the prevenient inspiration of the holy Spirit, that person is anathema (sine praeveniente Spiritus Sancti inspiratione et adiutorio). Salvation is a gift of God. Human nature is impotent when it comes to attaining justification. By the time that the Tridentine bishops had promulgated this decree, the split between the Reformed groups and the Roman group had already taken place. The church in the west was factually divided and there was no possibility at that time for any mutual dénouement. However, as the citations above indicate, the Roman Church leadership agreed with the Reformers on the fundamental issue of grace and good works. Without God’s initial grace, no good work has any merit whatsoever. After the Reformation and the Council of Trent, church leadership, both hierarchical and theological, continued to speak at length de iure of the merits of Christ and to describe his death as a sacrifice in which satisfaction for sin was made to God. De facto, in the contemporary Western Churches a “good-work soteriology” slowly became prevalent. What we need today is a major reconsideration of soteriology itself, keeping in mind that there cannot be a “good-work soteriology.” A rethinking of the term salvation can no longer be avoided. Chapter seven in the Tridentine decree on justification speaks of the causes of justification in a careful way. The conciliar bishops make use of the Aristotelian-Scholastic enumeration of causes in order to distinguish several theological and de fide factors.45 45

Denz., 1528.

a relational theology of creation Final cause: Efficient cause: Meritorious cause: Instrumental cause: Formal cause:

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the glory of God and of Christ. the merciful God who freely cleanses and sanctifies. God’s most beloved and only-begotten Son. the sacrament of baptism. the justice of God, not the justice by which God is just, but the justice of God by which God justifies us.

In this listing of causes, there are two “causes” which need delicate consideration. First of all, the “meritorious cause” raises an issue which was fiercely debated by the scholastic theologians. How does one interpret the term merit theologically? The Dominicans and the Franciscans were not at one with each other on the theological understanding of merit.46 In order to maintain the utter primacy of God in the bestowal of sanctifying grace, these theologians distinguished between merit de congruo and merit de condigno. There was agreement between the two traditions that a human person does not and cannot do anything to merit grace de congruo. In their discussions on de condigno merit, the two traditions were not in agreement, and their disagreement took into consideration differing understandings of grace, justification, contingency, and the infinite freedom of God. The Tridentine bishops had no intention of resolving the Dominican-Franciscan differences. Thus, how one interprets the Tridentine meritorious cause remains down to the third millennium a matter of theological—not de fide—discussion. Secondly, baptism as the “instrumental cause” also raises theological issues. For Thomas, all the sacraments including baptism operate in one way or another as instrumental efficient causes. In his description of instrumental efficient causality, Thomas insisted that each sacrament as an instrument must of itself be seen as instrumentally efficient. The Franciscans, Bonaventure and Scotus in particular, rejected any efficient instrumental sacramental causality, even if such efficient sacramental causality is described as only secondary and instrumental. For the Franciscan theologians, efficient instrumental causality compromised the freedom of an infinite God, who has no need for created efficient instruments. In the history of western theology, Franciscan

46

For an analysis of Scotus’ position on merit, see Ingham, “John Duns Scotus: An Integrated Vision”: 219–226.

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sacramental causality has been called either moral causality or occasional causality.47 All of the above elements of our discussion—Jesus as the meritorious cause of justification, merit de congruo and de condigno, the causality of the seven sacraments whether instrumental efficient, moral, or occasional—center around one major Christian belief: God’s grace of salvation. In the Tridentine Decree on Justification, the bishops state: Iesus Christus, qui “cum essemus inimici” (Rom. 5:10), “propter nimiam caritatem, qua dilexit nos” (Eph. 2:4), sua sanctissima passione in ligno crucis nobis justificationem meruit (can. 10), et pro nobis Deo Patri satisfecit (italics added).48 Si quis dixerit, homines sine Christi iustitia, per quam nobis meruit, iustificari, aut per eam ipsam formaliter iustos esse: a. s. (italics added).49

The italicized phrases indicate that Jesus in his humanity merited the gift of salvation. By meriting, did they mean causing? The bishops at Trent did not clearly formulate a document which contained a “good work soteriology,” but the phrases above indicate that a post-Tridentine “good work soteriology” could easily be formulated. In the Decree on Justification the bishops had made it crystal clear that good works do not cause God to give us grace. In the two citations above, the bishops use the term “meruit,” without any further definition. The door was left open for various interpretations. As regards Jesus’ death—a human reality—there has been a “good work soteriology.” Jesus’ death merited salvation. This kind of theology needs profound clarification. d. The Three Western Approaches in Detail The three western approaches to soteriology are generally named: the Victor Theory, the Victim Theory, and the Revealer Theory. Each of the three western approaches to soteriology is an attempt by scholars to provide a cogent theological meaning of God’s salvific grace to sinful men and women. Since systematic theology itself was a created only in the twelfth century, we have structured soteriologies only from that time on. Prior to that, as we have seen in the historical overview of

47

Kenan Osborne, Sacramental Theology: A General Introduction (New York: Paulist Press, 1988), chapter four, “God’s Action in the Sacramental Event,” 49–68. 48 Denz., 1529. 49 Denz., 1560, Canon 10; see also 1529.


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soteriology, there was, as Kelly remarks, “a variety of theories, to all appearance unrelated and even mutually incompatible, existing side by side and sometimes sponsored by the same theologian.”50 Kelly narrows the field to the three types just mentioned and then asks whether there is a clue to unifying this variety of explanations. His tentative conclusion is expressed as follows: Running through almost all the patristic attempts to explain the redemption there is one grand theme which, we suggest, provides the clue to the fathers’ understanding of the work of Christ. This is none other than the ancient idea of recapitulation which Irenaeus derived from St. Paul, and which envisages Christ as the representative of the entire race. Just as all men were somehow present in Adam, so they are, or can be, present in the Second Adam, the man from Heaven. Just as they were involved in the former’s sin, with all it appalling consequences, so they can participate in the latter’s death and ultimate triumph over sin, the forces of evil and death itself.51

Whether or not recapitulation can serve as a unifying principle of these various theological views is not the main focus of my argument. My focus is on a totally different theme: the ever-possible presence of a “good-works soteriology,” in which Jesus in and through his human nature performs some “good work” which “causes” God to forgive us. No matter how one presents a theology of redemption (salvation, justification, or deification), any form of a “good works soteriology” is unacceptable.52 As the theories developed into a structured format, they took on a basic dynamic. The dynamics of the three main theories can be diagrammed in the following way. Notice the directional aspects (the dynamic structures) of these three positions which are indicated by the use of the arrows. The arrows indicate the direction of the soteriological dynamism, namely “x” takes place which has an effect on—or causes—“y” which has an effect on—or causes—“z.” 50

Kelly, 375. Kelly, 376. 52 Tanquerey explicitly describes a good-work soteriology. In his Synopsis Theologiae Dogmaticae, he writes: “Christus, ut homo, variis modis est mediator: 1) ut doctor seu propheta . . . 2) ut rex . . . 3) ut sacerdos . . . 4) pracecipue vero ut redemptor nos a servitute peccati liberavit atque jura ad gratiam et gloriam restituit” (1128). The words which speak clearly of a “good-works soteriology” are: “Christus ut homo praecipue vero ut redemptor nos a sevitute peccati liberavit atque jura ad gratiam et gloriam restituit.” In Tanquerey’s theology, it is the human Christ—Christus—ut homo—who accomplishes this meriting. 51

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Satan Jesus must first overcome →→ Sin →→→ only then can God give salvation Death ↓ ↓ ↓ to all men and women Question: If the human Jesus must first do something, how can salvation be a gift of grace?

JESUS THE VICTIM THEORY Jesus must first pay →→→→ infinite satisfaction to →→→→ God who can then give salvation ↓ ↓ ↓ to all men and women Question: If the human Jesus must first do something, how can salvation be a gift of grace?

JESUS THE REVEALER THEORY God freely gives the grace of salvation →→→→ revealing it through Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection ↓ ↓ ↓ to all men and women Question: If the human Jesus only reveals, theologians ask: Is this all that Jesus has done?

Let us look more carefully into the three major approaches to the theological meaning of the death of Jesus as diagrammed above. The First Theory, Christ the Victor, Poses the Question: If the Human Jesus Must First Do Something, How Can Salvation Be a Gift of Grace? The Christus Victor theological view is a theme which is found in an abundance of patristic writings. Kelly cites both Ambrose (339–397)


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and Hilary (c. 315–367) presented a victor soteriology in a clear way.53 Ambrose emphasizes the Devil’s rights and the compensation justly owed to him. “The devil,” Ambrose states, “held us in possession, our sins being the purchase money by which he had bought us, and required a price if he was to release us. The price was Christ’s blood, which had to be paid to our previous purchaser.”54 Hilary, In Romanos, writes “The Lord was smitten, taking our sins upon Himself and suffering in our stead . . . so that in Him, smitten even unto the weakness of crucifixion and death, health might be restored to us.” “He [Jesus] offered Himself to the death of the accursed in order to abolish the curse of the Law by offering Himself of His own free will to God the Father as a sacrifice . . . To God the Father, Who spurned the sacrifices of the Law, He offered the acceptable sacrifice of the body He had assumed . . . procuring the complete salvation of the human race by the oblation of his holy and perfect sacrifice.”55 In the Christus Victor soteriology the early Fathers of the church focused on the three traditional enemies: death, sin and Satan. The power of death had become part of human life because of the power of sin. Sin had become part of human life because of the power of Satan. The three powers had to be overcome before men and women could be saved. In the view of the Fathers of the church, if the power of Satan, who was the leader of all that is evil, was destroyed, then the powers of sin and death would also be destroyed. Jesus by his death and resurrection primarily overcame Satan and secondarily the powers of death and sin. Through this victory Jesus enabled God to offer in a justifiable way the gift of salvation to all men and women. During the Renaissance, this soteriological view was portrayed artistically when certain painters portrayed God and Satan playing a game of chess, the winner of which would have control over all men and women. Naturally, God wins the game and we are thereby saved. Such a picture, however, places God and Satan as equals in their highstake game of chess. Even in this painting, God is enabled to give the grace of salvation to all men and women only after a chess game has taken place. The winning of a chess game, much as a good work, was “needed” in order that grace might be bestowed.

53 54 55

Kelly, 386–390. Ibid., 387. Hilary, In Rom. Tract. and In ps. 68, 23 and 53, 13.

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When one moves in the direction of victory, there are of necessity winners and losers. In the Christus Victor theory of salvation, the major winners are God and Jesus. The major loser is Satan, but all of humanity, in this scenario, is at first in the loser’s circle. Only after the victory of Jesus over Satan were men and women eligible to enter the winner’s circle. The victory over Satan, of course, was gained by Jesus when he was crucified. His death was celebrated as a victory in which the power of Satan was vanquished. Jesus’ death, however, is a human death. Since the Logos did not die, a human situation enabled God to grant the grace of salvation. Throughout these writings an implicit good-work soteriology is evident. On the issue of the devil’s rights and the salvation of men and women, Colish notes the following: The ‘rights of the devil’ position had the longest genealogy of any of the views of the redemption taught in the twelfth century, going back to the writings of Gregory the Great for its classic formulation. It had received considerable support in the intervening centuries. At the beginning of the twelfth century, it found defenders in the school of Laon, whose members are also a good source for the differences of opinion among its supporters.56

In Cur Deus homo? Anselm of Canterbury has no use for this theory of devil’s rights and God’s salvific grace. Colish describes Anselm’s contempt as follows: Anselm finally turns his fire against the “rights of the devil” theory. After outlining it and indicating his awareness of the fact that its proponents differ on the degree to which the devil’s sway can be seen as just, he observes that they all concur in viewing the redemption in military and political terms: Christ’s role is to besiege and take the fort in which the devil keeps man imprisoned, and to restore man to God’s rightful authority. Anselm’s response to this theory is simply to reject it as irrelevant.57

Colish, in a lengthy section of her volume entitled “The Atonement: Contemporary Debates,” provides the reader with a detailed discussion of the atonement theology of the twelfth century. All the key players are mentioned and cited in extensivo: Anselm of Laon, William of Champeaux, Anselm of Canterbury, Peter Abelard, Bernard of Clairvaux, Honorius Augustodunensis, Hugh of St. Victor, Roland of

56 57

Colish, 449–450. Ibid., 431–432.


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Bologna, Robert Pullen, and Peter Lombard. The long list of major authors of the twelfth century indicates that the issue of God’s grace of salvation and the death of Jesus together with the rights of the devil formed a central theological theme. It was this twelfth century context of atonement which provided the themes and nuances of the theological presentations on atonement in the thirteenth century which were formulated by Thomas Aquinas, Alexander of Hales, Bonaventure and John Duns Scotus. These latter theologians inherited all the theological issues and quirks of the preceding century. Their views of atonement have to be read under the twelfth century contextual umbrella. On the basis of these concerns over the rights of the devil and the ways in which these rights are not violated but yet overcome through Jesus’ death as a victory over Satan, let us ask the question formulated in the above diagram: if the human Jesus must first do something, how can salvation be a gift of grace? I would argue that there is a soteriology of good works at play in this theory of salvation, and therefore it is theologically unacceptable. The Second Theory, Christ the Victim, Poses the Same Question: If the Human Jesus Must First Do Something, How Can Salvation Be a Gift of Grace? The second soteriological theory, Christus Victima, was developed in an extensive and systematic way by Anselm of Canterbury in his volume, Cur Deus homo? Anselm’s argument for salvation is based on an either-or format: either an infinite offense (sin) is remitted by an infinite recompense (the infinite merits of Jesus’ sacrifice) or all human beings must remain in eternal damnation because of their sin. Anselm states this in a brief Latin phrase: aut satisfactio aut poena. Luc Mathieu in his essay, “Était-il nécessaire que le Christ mourût sur la croix?” carefully explains the way in which Scotus analyzes Anselm’s soteriological position.58 The sub-title of this essay reads: “Réflexion sur la liberté absolue de Dieu et la liberté de Jésus-Homme, d’après Jean Duns Scot.” Mathieu states that Scotus carefully explains Anselm’s approach, since Scotus wanted to honor Anselm as best he could.59 However, Scotus’ basic issue with Anselm centers on Anselm’s position

58 Luc Mathieu, “Était-il nécessaire que le Christ mourût sur la croix?” DAP, 581–591. 59 Ibid., 583.

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that the death of Jesus was necessary. Scotus begins his own presentation on the basis of God’s absolute gratuity for all actions ad extra. Tunc ad quaestionem dico, quod omnia hujusmodi, quae facta sunt a Christo circa redemptionem nostram non fuerunt necessaria, nisi praesupposita ordinatione divina, quae sic ordinavit fieri, et tunc tantum necessitate consequentiae necessarium fuit Christum pati, sed tamen totum fuit contingens simpliciter et antecedens et consequens.60

Matthieu interprets Scotus’ foundation as follows: La volonté bienveillante de Dieu le porte à offrir a pécheur une possibilité de salut, en l’associant à la gloire de son Christ que sera le couronnement de l’oeuvre créée. Ce pardon est un acte de pure gratuité, de pure bienveillance, qui se confond avec l’acte créateur, mais qui de notre point de vue est formellement second par rapport à la visée première: tout créer et tout instaurer dans le Christ. Il n’y a ici nulle autre nécessité que le libre vouloir divin, son amour gratuit et tout puissant.61

The Tridentine Decree on Justification corroborates Scotus’ position: “The impotency of both nature and law to justify a human person.”62 “The beginning of justification in adults must be based on the prevenient grace of God through Jesus Christ, by which they are called through no existing merits of their own.”63 The human nature of Jesus in its essence and in its actions is a created human nature and therefore the human actions of Jesus, including his human suffering and his human dying, cannot be seen as an “infinite satisfaction.” Ormerod writes: “Rather than speak of ransom, Anselm introduces the new concept of his emerging soteriology, that of ‘satisfaction’.”64

60 Scotus, Opus oxoniense, III d. 20, q. un. Latin is from the Vivès Ed., v. 14, p. 737. Just before the citation above, Scotus had written: “Dico igitur, quod amor, quem offerre debet satisfaciendo, debet excedere amorem cujuscumque creaturae, quod verum est, et diligere magis objectum nobilius satisfaciendo, a quam dilexerit ignobilius peccando; tamen ille actus, quo convertor ad Deum per amorem, in sua formali ratione non est major omni creatura, nec etiam amor Christi creatus, quod dilexit Deum, fuit talis.” 61 Matthieu, 588. 62 Denz., 1521. 63 Denz., 1525. 64 Ormerod, 98. Ormerod then presents Thomas Aquinas’ relationship to Anselm, 99–102. Bonaventure accepted the satisfaction theory regarding the death of Jesus, but for Bonaventure satisfaction is secondary to the freely given love of God’s forgiveness, or as Freyer states: “Die vollendete und rettende Kenosis der Liebe.” See the entire section by Freyer, 220–223. In his preface to the volume, The Works of St. Bonaventure: Writings on the Spiritual Life (St. Bonaventure, New York: Franciscan Institute Publications, 2006), 30–40, Edward Coughlin explains Bonaventure’s approach to sin and grace. For


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Ormerod mentions that three issues are central to the contemporary analysis of Anselm. First of all, he mentions, “Anselm’s account depends very much on a medieval worldview in which codes of honor were central to the way of life. . . . Take these elements away and the account tends to become less convincing. Anselm’s account is more culturally conditioned than he thought and hence less convincing to those of a different worldview.”65 A second issue, which Ormerod brings up, is the difficulty to square Anselm’s account of the atonement with the compassion which Jesus shows throughout the gospels. Anselm tends to present an eye-for-aneye view of atonement: aut satisfactio aut poena. Jesus, in the gospels, tends to present a forgiveness which occurs seventy-times-seventytimes-seventy, etc. The message of Jesus is forgiveness, rather than quid-pro-quo. Bernard Lonergan, in his detailed analysis of Anselm’s argument, cites Tertullian who writes: aut poena aut venia.66 Lonergan states that Anselm’s either :: or is not conclusive, since pardon, venia, is a third possibility. A third issue of contention is Anselm’s methodology, which includes a presentation of “necessary reasons” for the incarnation. Aquinas, Bonaventure, and Scotus all maintain that God could have restored men and women in a different way. Two major issues structure Anselm’s position: the holiness and the justice of God. The holiness of God does not allow any trivialization of sin. Sin is a major offense against God and therefore sin cannot be treated in a way which minimizes God’s holiness vis-à-vis evil. God does not tolerate sin. Secondly, the justice of God must be honored. The justice of God has created a major problematic for soteriology. Anselm did not hesitate to make the justice of God central to his entire volume.67 The complications and nuances, which must be made when speaking of an infinite God who is also holy and just, need serious attention.68 Otherwise, Anselm’s argument can be misinterpreted. Colish carefully analyzes Anselm’s presentation of the justice of God.

his part, Scotus integrates his soteriology into his theology of Christ’s predestination, which is based on God’s absolute freedom and love. See Freyer, 223–226. 65 Ormerod, 99–100. 66 Bernard Lonergan De Verbo Incarnato (Rome: Pontificia Universitas Gregoriana, 1961): 432–502, esp. the section on venia: 452–454. 67 Anselm, Cur Deus Homo, c. 1, 11, c. 1, 67–69. For the whole argument, see ibid., c. 1, 11 to 2, 20, c. 1:68 to 133. 68 Ibid., c. 1, 15; c. 1, 72–74.

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chapter six Sin, in itself, consists in not rendering to God his due, a formula invoking the legal maxim suum cuique tribuere as the definition of justice. For Anselm, justice must be served; and Christ can serve it in offering to God His voluntary and unmerited death on the cross. God is repaid in accepting this offering, not on the analogy with a monetary composition, but in terms of His honor. Anselm is sensitive to the point that nothing man does can actually increase or diminish God’s honor, God being infinite. But the rendering of proper honor to Him expresses a proper attitude in creatures, which contributes to the wholeness and order of the universe. This is the level on which Anselm analyzes the objective side of the transaction, the restoration of honor to God as the service of justice, which therefore requires satisfaction as essential.69

The last phrase, “which therefore requires satisfaction as essential” introduces the issue of something essential and therefore necessary into the field of discourse. Freyer mentions that the Franciscan theologians of the thirteenth century developed a soteriology which is unique. “Als erstes muss festgestellt werden, dass es innerhalb der franziskanischen Theologie keine eigene Rechtfertigungslehre gibt. Diese ist der Gnadenlehre untergeordnet.”70 Actually, one might say that Franciscan soteriology is based on the Trinitarian God who is bonum sui diffusivum (Bonaventure) and on the infinite free and loving will of a Trinitarian God (Scotus). Such a foundation precludes any possibility of a creature, including the human nature of Jesus, necessitating God in any way at all. It also indicates a radical contingency of all creatures, whether this creature is Satan who has no ability whatsoever to necessitate how a Trinitarian God acts, or whether this creature is the human nature of Jesus who again has no ability to necessitate how a Trinitarian God acts.71 Since God, the grace-giver, is the only basis for soteriology, a goodwork soteriology is impossible. Although some Franciscan theologians used the Anselmian term, satisfaction, they did so only on the foundation of God’s infinite goodness, love, and freedom. Ormerod, as noted above, states that Anselm’s view has met with contemporary hesitation and criticism. Thus, the question raised in the diagram, “If the

69

Colish, 452. Freyer, 244. 71 From a philosophical view, the Franciscan position on diachronic and synchronic contingency disallows any necessary aspect of a finite reality on the basis of finitude itself. From a theological view, the radical contingency of all created realities is based on the absolute freedom of God. 70


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human Jesus must first do something, how can salvation be a gift of grace?” cannot be answered by an Anselmian approach to a soteriology which has been called the Jesus the Victim soteriology. Anselm’s position is fundamentally a good-work soteriology and therefore it is unacceptable. The Third Theory, Christ the Revealer, Poses a Different Question: If the Human Jesus Only Reveals, Theologians Ask: Is This All That Jesus Has Done? This soteriological theory has had various names. It has been called a revelatory theory or an illuminative theory. It has also been called the theory of Peter Abelard. Scotus develops his own interpretation of this soteriological position. Scotus relates the issue of salvation to the issue of creation on the basis of contingency. Mathieu summarizes this contingency as follows. D’ailleurs, était-il nécessaire que l’humanité fût répartée, et que le Christ dût souffrir? Il convient de ne pas oublier que la création est un act divin gratuit, ainsi que toute action divine ad extra. La prédestination de l’homme à l’existence et à la gloire qui serait sa fin surnaturelle est elle-même contingente et totalement gratuite; elle trouve sa seule raison dans la volonté arbitraire de Dieu.72

This citation together with the preceding citation from Matthieu sums up in a very clear way the position of Scotus on salvation. God’s creative act, God’s salvific act, and God action of risen life for men and women are all presented as gratuitous and unnecessary acts of a loving, compassionate, and infinitely free God. Scotus point of departure is consistently based on the absolute freedom and love of God’s will. Any theological attempt which states that some created event is necessary belittles God’s absolute freedom. Peter Abelard and Bernard of Clairvaux, each from his own position, tend to agree—mirabilie dictu!—on a key weakness of Anselm’s soteriology. Anselm focused on the satisfaction that had been paid. Because of this, the gates of Satan’s prison are opened, and men and women are free to reenter God’s own kingdom. Throughout Cur Deus homo?, Anselm, according to Abelard and Bernard, makes no mention of an internal change in the human person him/herself. No conversion of the

72

Matthieu, 584.

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individual is described. God has simply received the infinite satisfaction, and therefore human beings are freed from their debt.73 This remarkable agreement of Abelard and Bernard—although spelled out in their respectively different ways—has echoes of a sixteenth century debate on the same problem: is the grace of salvation merely external or is it deeply internal as well? If the human person neither does anything nor can do anything to attain salvation, then is the human person simply experiencing something totally external, that is, God’s action alone? If the human person indeed does something—generally called “cooperation”—then is salvation totally a gift? Does the fore-seen effect of God’s gift of salvation on the mind and heart of an individual cause God to save some people and not save others? Is God’s giving of grace dependent on praemotio physica (Domingo Bañez) or on scientia media (Luís de Molina)? In these instances of the De Auxiliis debate in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries either a good-work is logically necessary prior to God’s gift of grace, including the gift of salvation (Molina), or there is an issue of selective predestination by God (Bañez). The question in the subtitle of the above diagram on Jesus the Revealer differs from the question which was posed for the sections on Jesus the Victim and Jesus the Victor. This new question reads: If the human Jesus only reveals, theologians ask: Is this all that Jesus has done? This is an extremely valid question. It was important in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and it is equally important in the twenty-first century. Today, the question has been posed as follows: is Jesus simply another great prophet such as Mohammad or is Jesus simply another great teacher such as Buddha? The third approach, Jesus the Revealer, has engendered over the centuries enormous complaints. The questions just formulated are a central part of these complaints. The questions are clearly justified, and their answers deserve further study. In the next few paragraphs I will draw together the main elements which a third-millennium soteriology should take into account. These paragraphs provide a context in which the above questions need to be answered. If the incarnation took place because of human sin, then the issue of necessitating God can easily arise. In other words, if there had been no sin, God would not have decreed the incarnation of the Logos.

73

Colish, 455.


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If the incarnation is connected to creation itself, then both creation and incarnation stem from an unnecessitated free will of God.74 The Franciscan approach has maintained the second theological tradition, rather than the first. Freier presents the Franciscan approach in the following way. Der Geist Gottes ist das eigentliche Lebensprinzip, das Gut, die Gabe, die Gott in seine Schöpfung hineingibt und durch die sich Gott mit seiner Kreatur in einem Band der Liebe zur Einheit verbindet. Der Geist durchwaltet die ganze Schöpfung um sie zu beleben und im Leben zu erhalten. Er ist es, der den Schöpfungsprozess auf Vollendung hin vorantreibt. Die Schöpfung wird also nicht nur von aussen her von Gott gewolt, sondern mehr noch von innen her als Ort göttlicher Epiphanie im Sohn und als Tempel seiner liebenden Selbstäusserung durch den Geist belebt.75

A second basic characteristic of the Franciscan approach stems from Bonaventure’s central theme for God, bonum est sui diffusivum. The goodness of creation, incarnation, and sending of the Spirit are all gifts of grace. The presence of sin in human life simply magnifies the generosity of God’s goodness. d. A Summary of the Central Issues for a Christian Soteriology For a third-millennium soteriology, each of the following issues must be honored. If they are not honored, then, a “good-works soteriology” will remain in effect throughout the western Christian world. 1. There Is No De Fide Definition for an Interpretation of Salvation The only official and de fide documents in which we find mention of Jesus as “savior” and his death as a “dying for us” are the various creeds formulated by the early Christian Church. These creeds simply state that Jesus is “savior,” or that “Jesus died for us,” or that he died “for all men and women.” Therefore, any further elaboration of these phrases on salvation is theological, and as such there can be a variety of

74 Cf. McEvoy, Robert Grosseteste, 127–133. McEvoy indicates that it was Rupert of Deutz and Honorius of Autun who first raised the hypothetical question in a clear way: if Adam had not sinned, would there have been an incarnation of the Logos? Neither of these two scholars answered the question. Robert Grosseteste seems to have been the first major theologian who gave an extensive response to the question. 75 Freier, 122–123.

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views. Since no theology is either immutable or necessary, every further elaboration on soteriology is also mutable and unnecessary. For some scholars, the axiom lex orandi, lex credendi might be operative, but this axiom has its validity and its limitations. Certainly in liturgical hymns and prayers mention is made that Jesus is savior and that he died for all men and women. It would be extremely difficult, on the basis of these liturgical hymns and prayers, to claim that they fall under the axiom lex orandi, lex credendi. I know of no theologian who makes such a claim on such a basis for a particular view of soteriology. Mathieu, along with others, mentions that both the Victor and Victim theories are theological opinions, not dogmatic positions. The Victim theory has dominated western thought, but today it is not accepted by all Christians.76 2. The Axiom “Outside the Church There Is No Salvation” Is Intrinsically Unclear Since the term salvation has no single theological meaning on which Christians agree, this statement, though taken from Cyprian, has little clarity. Even the positive reformulation of this affirmation, which one finds in the Catechism of the Catholic Church, is intrinsically unclear: “Re-formulated positively it [the phrase outside the church there is no salvation] means that all salvation comes from Christ the Head through the Church which is his Body” (846). In both instances, the unclarity which I stress is not on the word “church,” but on the word “salvation.” Over the centuries Christian scholars have used the term salvation in differing ways as they developed a systematically structured soteriology. A task for future Christian theologians is to provide an interpretation of salvation which the Christian Churches might accept. 3. A Further Complication Arises from the Debate on Grace, Merit, Good Works, and Salvation A systematic theological debate on the interrelationship of these four issues began in the twelfth century. The major scholastic theologians of the thirteenth century continued these theological debates. The issue of grace and good works become a major dividing issue at the time of the

76 Matthieu, 583, citing Joseph Ratzinger, Foi chrétienne hier et aujourd’hui (Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 1965) 156–158.


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Reformation and the Council of Trent. In the documents published by the Tridentine bishops, not all of the issues on grace and good works were settled. From the sixteenth century until today, there has been a continued and often harsh discussion on the same theme. This continuous discussion has taken place not only between the divided Christian Communities of the West, but also within the theological framework of the Roman Catholic Church itself. In the West, three forms of soteriology have dominated. Never has there been an official statement by the hierarchical leadership condemning any of these three forms or proclaiming that only one of these three forms is consonant with Catholic Faith. Each of these soteriologies continues to be acceptable. 4. In many Theological Volumes Today, There Is a “Good-work Soteriology” The human nature of Jesus is presented in many of these studies as doing something (a good work) so that God can forgive us our sins. It is my hope that theologians will review these “good-work soteriologies” and bring them into a better alignment with the absolute freedom of God and with the absolute gratuity of God’s grace. A good-work soteriology which is left unstudied can only complicate the situation for future generations. 5. A Theological Rethinking of Soteriology Has Already Begun Franciscan scholars, such as Johannes Freyer, Juan Iammarrone, Bernardino de Armellada, Luc Matthieu, Leon Seiler, Déodat de Basly, Zachary Hayes, Ambrose Van Si Nguyen, and José Antonio Merino among others have already begun this reevaluation process. Their studies on the cosmic view of Bonaventure in which everything is a vestige, image, and a similitude helps us today to see God’s love and compassion in a globalized and multi-cultural world. The Christian Churches would be richly renewed if both hierarchy and theologians gave more attention to the soteriology of the Franciscan Tradition. 6. Jesus’ Preaching of the Kingdom of God Is Essential to an Understanding of Salvation The theology of the kingdom of God presents an understanding of salvation which moves our theological horizons beyond ecclesiology. Current theologians, particularly in Asia, have addressed this issue of the kingdom of God, but there have been caveats issued by the Vatican

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Curia on an emphasis of the kingdom over an emphasis on the church.77 On the other hand, Paul VI and John Paul II in their writings clearly presented the kingdom of God as greater than the church. John Paul II stated that the church is meant to serve the kingdom.78 However, the current emphasis on kingdom theology seems, in the mind of some, to be a demeaning of a theology of church. Jesus would not have made the kingdom of God central to his teaching and preaching unless the kingdom of God was meant to be central. The proclamation of the kingdom of God was the main mission Jesus had from the Father, and not only his words but his entire life, death, and resurrection became the manifestation of this mission regarding God’s kingdom. The central message of the Church should also be the kingdom of God, and not the church itself. 7. The Role of the Holy Spirit in the Gift of Salvation The mission of the Spirit proclaims the same message of God’s kingdom. The manifestation of the Spirit is not limited to a single individual (Haecceitas), for the Spirit manifests the kingdom of God in all of creation. The mission and the manifestation of the Logos and of the Spirit are soteriological. God’s creation is also soteriological. The theological unity of these three needs much more uninhibited discussion by the best minds of our Christian world. 8. The Context of the Church and a Theology of Salvation Since the interrelational structure of the three main actions of God ad extra is a free gift of God, the church itself is a gift of God and therefore contingent. We find an expression of God’s free gifting of the church in Lumen gentium. The opening chapter is entitled: “The Mystery of the Church.” Such a title focuses the entire chapter on the christological and trinitarian foundation of the church. The eternal Father, in accordance with the utterly free and mysterious design of his wisdom and goodness, created the entire universe. He chose to raise up men and women to share in his own divine life. . . . He determined to call together in the holy church those who believe in Christ (LG, 1, italics added).

77 Josef Cardinal Tomko, “Dialogue, Inculturation, and Evangelization in Asian,” Origins, 29 (2000) Feb.: 549–553. 78 See the excerpts on kingdom and church by Paul VI and John Paul II in chapter seven of this volume, pp. 403–406.


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The Son, accordingly, came, sent by the Father who before the foundation of the world chose us and predestined us in him to be his adopted sons and daughters (LG, 3, italics added). When the work which the Father gave the Son to do on earth (Jn. 17:4) was completed, the holy Spirit was sent on the day of Pentecost to sanctify the church continually and so that believers might have access to the Father through Christ in the one Spirit (Eph. 2:18) (LG, 4 italics added).

The italicized phrases, “utter freedom,” “chose,” and “sent.” Indicate the giftedness of the church. Since the church is a gift of an infinitely free God, the church can be called a mystery. For the bishops at Vatican II, this is the foundational theology for their approach to ecclesiology. They did not start with the church as the Mystical Body of Christ, nor did they begin with the historical institution of the church by Jesus, nor did they begin with the hierarchical constitution of the church. In the past, other ecclesiologies have begun with these three issues. The bishops at Vatican II moved in a different direction. In Gaudium et spes, the bishops begin with a focus on the church which is centered on the historical solidarity of the church with the entire human family. The joys and hopes, the grief and anguish of the people of our time, especially of those who are poor or afflicted, are the joys and hopes, the grief and anguish of the followers of Christ as well. Nothing that is genuinely human fails to find an echo in their hearts (GS, 1). The world which the council has in mind is the world of women and men, the entire human family seen in its total environment. It is the world as the theatre of human history, bearing the marks of its travail, its triumphs and failures (GS, 2).

In Lumen gentium we read that the church as mystery of Christ and light of the world is related to the missio and manifestatio ad extra of the Logos (LG 3 and 4). The church is continually sanctified by the missio and manifestatio ad extra of the Spirit (LG 4). Gaudium et spes (GS 4–10) presents the church in its solidarity with the whole human family. The church helps us to understand the “new age of history with its profound and rapid changes,” which has “spread gradually to all corners of the earth” (GS, 4). The conciliar view of today’s church is contextualized by the transcendent God’s ad extra actions of creation, the incarnation of the Logos, and the sending of the Spirit. Any presentation of the church as ahistorical over-spiritualizes the church and makes it both an ideology and an idol. To present the missions and manifestations ad extra of the Logos and the Sprit as ahistorical

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does the very same thing. However, to present these themes as simply historical nullifies the transcendent presence of God in the church.79 Because of the presence of the Trinitarian God the church is a mystery, and because the church is a created contingent entity, it is historical and finite.

3. The Position of Bonaventure on Creation, Incarnation, and the Mission of the Spirit and its Relevance for Today’s Third-millennium World Bonaventure’s theology of creation begins with a sense of amazement. In the words of Bernardino de Armellada, we hear echoes of such amazement: Para San Buenaventura es insostenible siquiera la sospecha de la posibilidad lógica de una creación eterna. Salir de la nada es caer en el tiempo.80

It is from the standpoint of de la nada—from nothing at all—that we look at the abundance of our universe, at the living depths of our own selves, and at the beauty of our neighbor’s presence. From nothing to something is indeed an amazing reality. For his part, Hayes notes that Bonaventure’s whole metaphysical view can be summarized in three words: emanation, exemplarity, and return.81 Hayes presents Bonaventure’s theology of exemplarity as follows: The doctrine of exemplary Ideas leads inevitably to a doctrine of universal analogy. Each individual object in the created world and the whole of the world taken together in unity reflect something of the creative Artist who, in the very act of creation, has given external expression to the internal world of the divine Ideas. The same is true of the history of the world. Even though creation can never give adequate expression of God’s act of

79 One of the more common critiques of the christology found in the councils of Nicaea, Constantinople I, Ephesus and Chalcedon is this: the conciliar texts on christology are “ahistorical” and “non-soteriological.” In other words, the texts focus exclusively on the one person—two nature Christology, which is highly intellectualized. There is no connection to the historical Jesus as savior beyond an underlying principle: what is not assumed is not saved. 80 Bernardino de Armellada, “Antropología teológica. Creación, Pecado, Gracia, Escatología,” Manual de Teología franciscana: 369. See Bonaventure, Sent., 2, d. 1, p. 1, a. 1, q. 2 conclusio; also Breviloquium, c. 1, n. 3. 81 Hayes, MT, 72.


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self-expression, there is a sense in which the cosmos, even in its limited condition, is an external objectification of the divine consciousness.82

A relational theology of creation and its relation to the incarnation is part and parcel of the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition. To cite Hayes again, Bonaventure’s view of creation-incarnation is described in a very striking way: To ask about the possibility of an incarnation in the broader context of Bonaventure’s theological world-view is not to ask about a divine absentee landlord visiting a world otherwise devoid of God. On the contrary, as the Bonaventurean theology of creation emphasizes, the world of creation is already a place of divine presence.83

The phrase, “the world of creation is already a place of divine presence,” is a powerful relational phrase. All of creation is related to God as believers would say, and all of creation is related to Jesus as Christians would say. In Bonaventure’s view, God is understood as a relational God; creation is understood as a relational creation; and Jesus is understood as a relational Jesus. A non-relational God is a non-God; a non-relational creation is a non-creation; and a non-relational Jesus is a non-Jesus. Nevertheless, both creation and the incarnation come from a free and infinite God. Both are gifts. Neither is necessitated. In the Greek text of John’s gospel, we read: και εσκηνωσεν εν ημιν. Generally this is translated as “and he dwelt among us.” The Greek verb is far more poetic for it means that God has set up his tent next to our tent (εσκήνωσεν εν ημιν). Jesus was fully temporal and fully historical. The entire humanity of Jesus, in exactly the same way as our own individual humanities, exists from creation de la nada, a free gift of God. Hayes describes this human-divine relationship as follows. Jesus is both the temporal and eternal exemplar. His historical life is the exegesis in time of the eternal mystery in which all created reality is grounded. As the historical manifestation of the eternal exemplar of all reality other than the Father, Christ offers more than a mere moral example. He embodies the very principle of all moral existence in the historical style of his life.84

For Bonaventure, the Logos-made-flesh is not epiphenomenal. The human dimension of the Logos-made-flesh is as contingent, finite, 82 83 84

Ibid., 74–75. Ibid., 88. Ibid., 84.

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limited, relational, and temporal as all other beings who are de la nada. According to Hayes: The doctrine of creation, for Bonaventure, presupposes the doctrine of the immanent emanations that constitute the mystery of the trinity.85 In such a world, an incarnation is not an unwelcome intrusion of a foreign God. It is, in fact, the fullest realization of the noblest potential in the created order.86

For Bonaventure, there is something constitutively relational in God’s own being ad intra that enables us to understand the created world in which we live ad extra. Iammarrone goes at great length to indicate that Bonaventure co-identifies both being and love. El concepto cristiano de Dios es el agape, es decir, el amor de donación. Esto no contradice de nungún modo, según Buenaventura, el concepto de Dios en cuanto Ipsum Esse, o el Ser por esencia.87

Bonaventure, in ways similar to those of Alexander of Hales and Scotus, presents a theology of a trinitarian God who is identified in philosophical and theological terms as both being and diffusive love. Such identification is relational to the core, since diffusive love in itself can only be relational, as we have seen in chapter five and the highest being (esse ipsum) can only be understood as the highest relationality (amor ipse diffusivum sui). Bonaventure himself states: “This is the whole of our metaphysics: it is about emanation, exemplarity, and consummation; that is, to be illumined by spiritual rays and to be led back to the Supreme Being.”88 God, for Bonaventure, is Supreme Being. However, God is also Supreme Love. Iammarrone describes Bonaventure’s approach to God as love in a powerful manner: “Para Buenaventura, en Dios la esencia del amor consiste precisamente en esto: ‘el movimiento del amor es movimiento del ser en su esencia de ser’.”89 Within the reality of God, being and love are synonymous, and both divine being and love are infinitely free. There is no limit that one can place on the infinite love of God, nor is there any human or created power that can specify what God can and cannot love.

85 86 87 88 89

Ibid., 62. Ibid., 88. Iammarrone, “La Trinidad,” Manual de Teología Franciscana: 76. Bonaventure, Collationes in Hexaëmeron, 2, 17. Iammarrone, 79, citing G. Gneo, Conoscere e amare (Rome, 1985) 213.


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Bonaventure frequently makes use of a well-known neo-Platonic axiom: “The more a thing is prior, the more fecund it is and the more it is the principle of others.” The perfection of love in Bonaventure is found in a form of unbounded plurality or relationality within God’s own self. “In analyzing the trinitarian dynamic as one of love, Bonaventure follows Richard of St. Victor in arguing that the three persons represent three modalities of love.”90 By situating necessity and freedom within the Godhead in this dialectical manner, Bonaventure was able to articulate the immanent mystery of God as self-diffusive love that is entirely adequate to the divine nature within itself, and therefore to envision God as completely free with respect to anything other than the divinity. This is reflected in his insistence on the freedom of God with respect to the entire created order as well as to the order of salvation and grace.91

The above paragraphs stress Bonaventure’s interrelatonal theology of God’s nature as bonum est sui diffusivum and Esse Supremum with a freely created universe in which the incarnation is central. Creation and the mission and manifestation of the Logos are, in Bonavenutre, freely willed by God, but in a way in which the two are intrinsically united. Creation in Bonaventure is presented in an historical dimension. Bonaventure’s theology of history actually re-defines the theological meaning of salvation. This redefinition of salvation is a key part of the entire Franciscan Intellectual Tradition. Salvation for Bonaventure extends far beyond any overcoming of sin. Salvation, in reality, is “the actualization of the potency which God placed in the world through the act of creation. Salvation is found in the most intimate sort of lifegiving relation between the human spirit and the divine.”92 Salvation is at work from the first moment of creation which includes the mission and manifestation of the Logos. God’s teleological and ultimate plan for creation, the mission and manifestation of the Logos, and the mission and manifestation of the Spirit constitutes the reality of salvation. Salvation, due to the historical dimension of creation, is in its completion a future reality, not a reality that an individual or a church has already. The inclusion of the dimension of time, which Bonaventure makes, redefines the meaning of salvation. The question

90 91 92

Hayes, MT, 58. Ibid., 59. Ibid., 100.

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may arise: where does one find indications of this redefined meaning of salvation? Bonaventure’s first answer is clear: read the book of creation, written by God and expressive of God. God and God’s plan are related dynamically to every facet of creation. This does not mean that God takes over the tasks of physical forces or intellectual thinking and willing. Intelligent design is not what Bonaventure has in mind. Rather, God’s presence “suffuses” creation. It is both everywhere and yet individualized. Bonaventure second answer is equally clear: read the book of the scriptures, for in the sacred books the Word and the Spirit have spoken and are still speaking. This scriptural message is their mission, and the message is the same as the message in the book of creation. The book of creation and the book of the Holy Scriptures are relational. Neither book is some heaven-sent epiphenomenal mandate from heaven. Rather the meaning of God’s mission of Logos and Spirit suffuses the written words of Scripture and the same meaning suffuses the book of creation itself. Bonaventure’s third answer is also crystal-clear: read the book of one’s inner heart. In the inner heart of every man and woman, God speaks to us in a quiet but firm way. God’s word in the depths of our being contains the same message as the book of creation and the book of the scriptures. In these three books, we are able to find clues to the teleological meaning of creation, the mission and manifestation of the Logos, and the meaning and manifestation of the Spirit. We do not find a full answer, since the world is moving through time. What we find is a teleological direction, but as yet we do not see the final reality. It is the final reality, a future reality that redefines the salvation that all men and women hope for. In two lengthy sections of his volume, Homo Viator: Der Mensch im Lichte der Heilsgeschichte, Freyer carefully threads together Bonaventure’s presentation on creation.93 For each of his themes on creation, Freyer provides reference after reference to passages in Bonaventure’s writing.

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Freyer, 46–59; 107–115.


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The first section is entitled “Die Kunst der Schöpfung,” and the perspective of beauty and aesthetics is prominent.94 Creation is God’s artistry. Moreover, it is Bonaventure’s understanding of a triune God, who is both Der Seiende (Esse ipsum)95 and Die innertrinitarische Wechseleinwohnung durch die Liebe (bonum est sui diffusivum),96 and who freely creates all finite reality. The presence of this relational God is present in all of creation. But creation is not simply a once-and-forall event. Creation sets into action a process that we call history, and this history is goal oriented. God’s creative act has a dynamic purpose: to lead all of creation to its historical fulfillment in God (salvation). In Bonaventure, history is given a positive valency, and this is a history of creation and a history of salvation that is larger and more inclusive than simply church history. Freyer, while carefully acknowledging that Bonaventure did not use the term, speaks of an evolutionary process. This evolutionary process is “eine Wiederspiegelung der festgestellten innertrinitarischen Dynamik.”97 There is an “Evolution der Schöpfung auf Vollendung hin.”98 Creatures themselves are vestiges, images, and/or similitudes of God’s presence, through which God encounters men and women in creation and thereby manifests God’s own self and God’s historical design for creation.99 In the history of Christian theology, the term salvation has been described in two ways. First, salvation is something that has already taken place. Salaverri states this view as follows: “Salus supernaturalis semel et pro semper morte Christi perfecta et consummata est.”100 “Supernaturalis sanctificatio vel salus consistit tandem in infusione, conservatione et augmento donorum gratiae.”101 The same approach is found in the decree on justification, promulgated by the Council of Trent: “Dominus noster Iesus Christus, qui ‘cum essemus inimici’ [Rom 5:10], ‘propter nimiam caritatem, qua dilexit nos” [Eph. 2:4], sua sanctissima passione in ligno crucis nobis iustificationem meruit, et pro nobis Deo Patri satisfecit” (Denz. 1529). In all of these citations, salvation has already been attained.

94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101

Ibid., 46. Ibid., 48. Ibid., 50. Ibid., 58. Ibid., 58. Ibid., 112. Salaverri, 814. Ibid., 814.

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However, in the history of Christian theology, the history of salvation has also played a major role. Paul, as we have seen above, divided the history of the world into three stages, in which God’s mercy and forgiveness has taken place. The purpose of the church is the supernatural sanctification and salvation of men and women. In Salaverri we also find this second approach, for he writes that the purpose of the mission of Jesus is the sanctification and salvation of all men and women. Therefore, he concludes, the church has the same mission, namely, to bring about the salvation of the human race. The church accomplishes this by the tria munera: preaching the gospel; administering the church; and sanctifying people by word and sacrament.102 Over the past two millennia, this is precisely what the church has been doing. What Bonaventure adds to this latter view of a temporal understanding of salvation is this: salvation can only be understood when the final stage of God’s plan has taken place. We are, in this sense, on the way towards salvation, but what salvation at the end time will be remains a mystery. What is future is not truly known in any detail, and if the future eschatological salvation is what salvation really implies, then it will be known in its fullness only at the end time. What we know of salvation during the world’s “Evolution der Schöpfung auf Vollendung hin” is only a preview not a climax. A third millennium Christian is faced with a complex and worldwide globalization, a multi-culturalism that surpasses in intensity any other inter-cultural activities of the past, and a dialogue with other major world religions that intensively and extensively has never taken place before. For such a Christian the phrase, salvation of all men and women, has become radically complex. Today’s globalization, inter-cultural evolution, and inter-religious dialogues raise serious questions about Jesus as the only savior of the world and about the church’s purpose to bring salvation to all men and women. The standard Christian theology of salvation may have sufficed during the past centuries, but such a theology today needs major rethinking. The emphasis on the dimension of time and history, that is so central to Bonaventure’s understanding of salvation, and also Bonaventure’s emphasis on an end-time salvation that alone provides the full meaning of salvation, are two factors that, in my view, are extremely valuable for today’s situation. Today, we need to take the dimension of time seriously when there is any discus-

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Ibid., 811.


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sion of salvation. Temporality relativizes every so-called “definition” of salvation, since only at end of time will we know fully what salvation truly means. Today’s understandings of salvation are only previews. In the end time we will have the climactic expression of all that salvation actually entails. Moreover, since God has given to men and women dominion over all of creation, Bonaventure sees an ethical dimension to humanity’s position within creation. In the historical process of creation, men and women are called on by God to play an ethical role. They are to shepherd creation to its final seventh day, and they are to do this in an ethical way.103 Such a view complements today’s emphasis on environmental necessity. It is precisely in his abundance of relational and temporalized thought that the theologian, Bonaventure, speaks to contemporary third-millennium people. He is a medievalist, through and through, but, as with Scotus, we need to look over his shoulder, medieval though that shoulder is, and hear what Bonaventure says: “Do you see what I see?” He is pointing not only to a book of divine scripture,104 but to a book of creation and to a book of experience.105 The contemporary, dominant and operative theology of the Christian Churches is basically inward-looking or church-centered. Because of the current crisis of church credibility, Christian leadership has often become even more focused on itself, more adamant and rigid in its posture of defense, namely a circling of the wagons, and more unbelievable through its insistence to return to the way the church always was. Freyer, in his chapter on Die Schöpfung, indicates that Bonaventure unites creation and its history in a very comprehensive way. Creation, however, in Bonaventure includes the humility of the incarnation and the sending of the Spirit. Together, these three historical realities—creation, incarnation, and the sending of the Spirit—are inseparable. He writes: “Die innertrinitarische Wechseleinwohnung durch die Liebe wird als Gabe des durch den Vater gesprochenen Wortes, dem Sohne im

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Freyer, 57–59; 107–115. Bonaventure, Collationes in Hexaëmeron, 12:17: “For the whole of Scripture is the heart of God, the mouth of God, the tongue of God, the pen of God, a scroll written within and without.” Eng. trans. by José de Vinck, Collations on the Six Days (Paterson, New Jersey: St. Anthony Guild Press, 1970), 181. 105 For Bonaventure’s understanding of the book of creation, see Itinerarium mentis in Deum, chapter two. 104

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Gieste, zum Geburtsort der Schöpfung.”106 However, the Geburtsort is only the beginning of a lengthy historical process. Bonaventure emphasizes that history has a final purpose given to it from the beginning by God. But there is also a goal that God has given to creation and history. “Die gute Schöpfung strebt nach ihrer Vollendung im höchsten Gut.”107 At creation the trinitarian God, as bonum est sui diffusivum, diffuses God’s own self into creation. This diffusion is a gift and grace and it is done in a humbling way, for the Word came to a human nature similar in all things to our own human natures. The grace-filled impetus of God is the beginning of creation. The grace-filled final welcoming of God is the goal of all creation. In between is history. Bonaventure provides a positive approach to history. Perhaps, he did so in part because in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries there was a movement inspired by the writings of Joachim of Fiore (c. 1135–1202). Joachim’s intimation of a third age of the Spirit led by monks rather than clerics caused no little consternation. Some Franciscans were also influenced by this Florensian monk, claiming that Francis of Assisi was the initiator of the third age. This kind of thinking, popular as it was, led many medieval leaders to play down such an image of history. Scholars tended to consider history in a negative way. Creation was good but postlapsarian history was evil because of human sin. Bonaventure, however, strove to present a very positive image of history. He did this by connecting the goodness of creation to the goodness of history. Freyer speaks of this as follows: Die Erlösung und Rechtfertigung, die sich in der Kenosis Gottes ereignet und die durch den Menschen frei im Glauben angenommen werden will, setzt auch den Blick wieder frei auf das eigentliche Ziel der Vollendung in Gott. Wie schon im Bereich der Schöpfungstheologie das Ziel in der Vollendung wesentlich den Menschen und die Schöpfung charakterisierte, so wird das Menschenbild des erlösten und gerechtfertigten Menschen wiederum von der Ausrichtung auf das eschatologische Ereignis her mitbestimmt.108

In such a view, we cannot really understand what salvation entails. It is yet to come. In the Franciscan approach, men and women during their lifetime are again and again re-related to the “evolution der Schöpfung auf Vollendung hin.” To accomplish this, God freely offers the grace of 106 107 108

Freyer, 50. Ibid., 57. Ibid., 246.


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his own presence, but always safeguarding the freedom of the human will. In such a perspective, salvation is not simply the final goal of a church or of church people. Salvation is the final goal of creation itself, which extends far beyond church boundaries. The “evolution der Schöpfung auf Vollendung hin” began with creation itself. God’s ultimate and teleological plan for creation, including the sending of the Logos and the sending of the Spirit is salvation. To be part of this teleological process places a person on the road to salvation. Salvation is far more than “being in the state of grace.” It is rather a joining into the loving and historical flow of God’s plan for creation. The phrase, outside the church there is no salvation, can be interpreted in an exclusive way: only those connected to the church in one way or another will be saved. Far better would be an inclusive interpretation: the church is part of God’s plan for creation. As we move along this historical development, the light that guides our steps is Jesus, the Lumen gentium. When the church reflects Jesus, it is truly church, lighting up the direction that God from the beginning of creation established for our universe. This light is not to be placed under a basket; rather this light shines out beyond itself so that others can see where they are going. Today, many scholars have presented a positive relational theology of a relational creation. Sallie McFague has done this in The Body of Christ: An Ecological Theology.109 Larry Rasmussen has followed in this same bent with his own volume, Earth Community, Earth Ethics.110 Ivone Gegara is far more trinitarian in her approach than either of the two authors just mentioned, as we find in her volume, Longing for Running Water: Ecofeminism and Liberation.111 Leonardo Boff ’s book, Cry of the Poor, Cry of the World is equally trinitarian and creational, as is his volume, Trinity and Society. Even more theologically oriented is the essay by Tito Szabó, “Trinità e Creazione: Riflessioni sull’attualità del pensiero di San Bonaventura.”112 In this same framework, we can include 109 Sallie McFague, The Body of God: An Ecological Theology (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993). 110 Larry Rasmussen, Earth Community: Earth Ethics (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1996). 111 Ivone Gebara. Longing for Running Water: Ecofeminism and Liberation (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999). 112 Tito Szabó, “Trinità e creazione. Riflessioni sul’attualità del pensiero di San Bonaventura,” San Bonaventura Maestro di Vita Francescana e di Sapienza Cristiana, v. 2, (Naples: Tipografia Laurenziana OFM Conv., 1976), ed. A. Pompei: 223–231. Also in the same volume, Paul Grimley Kunta, “The hierarchical vision of Bonaventure”: 233–248.

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the volume by Jürgen Moltmann, God in Creation: A New Theology of Creation and the Spirit of God.113 All of these authors, whether they have read Bonaventure or not, have seen something of what Bonaventure saw. Hopefully we, too, have seen something of what Bonaventure saw as we looked over his medieval shoulder and followed the direction to which his hand was pointing. What is seen by all of these authors is a relational creation within a relational theology of a relational God. For a third millennium Christian, the historical view of creation cannot help but make us reconsider our understanding of the Muslim and Hindu world. It will also make us rethink our judgements on the variety of races which bless our earth. The historical view of creation cannot help but make church people less church-oriented and more global-oriented. Church people today need to look beyond ecclesiastical horizons and consider globalized horizons. Too often, church leaders, both theological and ecclesiastical, have considered the church to be different from creation, better than creation, superior to the rest of creation. When one analyzes the issues of racism and white supremacy that occur even in the churches, the same three adjectives appear: different, better, and superior. This should caution church leaders to rethink the operative theologies of church. At times, unfortunately, there is racism, even white supremacy, at work in the church. The church is indeed related to God and to Jesus. In this regard the church is lunar, for the true sun is God alone. The light of God, however, is reflected in all of creation, and yet there are Christians who pick and choose which parts of creation are good and which parts of creation are bad, as though God has created both a good and bad creation. In doing this, such Christians too often see themselves as different, better, and superior. Bonaventure did not live in a globalized world similar to ours. For Bonventure, Christian Europe was almost the totality of his global world. The presence of some Muslims who were fighting with the Christians in Bonventure’s time consisted numerically—so the medievalists thought— of only a few people at the margins of Christian Europe. Because of these limited horizons, Bonaventure did not see the implications that his creational approach would have for the world of a third millennium. It is our task to extrapolate beyond the limits of Bonaventure’s horizon and situate a creational theology in the spacetime of today.

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Jurgen Moltmann, God in Creation: A New Theology of Creation and the Spirit of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993).


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4. The Position of Scotus on Creation, Incarnation, and the Mission of the Spirit and its Relevance for Today’s Third-millennium World The philosophical theology of Scotus on creation can be understood only within the framework of Scotus’ entire enterprise. Such a theme, however, goes far beyond the context of this volume. In the following pages, I will focus on certain key issues in Scotus’ thought regarding creation that are central to his work and that provide us today with helpful insights. These key issues are: a. b. c. d.

Methodological considerations The value of Scotus’ method for the third millennium worldview The humanness of Jesus The primacy of a trinitarian God vis-à-vis creation

a. Methodological Considerations In the twelfth century, the dialectical method was richly developed and in the thirteenth century almost unanimously accepted and used. Scotus used this dialectical method generously. However, on one occasion, he seems to follow a different method. We find this occasion in the statement of Scotus which over the centuries has been cited time and again. Dico igitur sic: Primo Deus diligit se; secundo diligit se in aliis, et iste est amor castus; tertio vult se diligi ab alio, qui potest eum summe diligere, loquendo de amore alicujus extrinseci; et quarto praevidit unionem illius naturae, quae debet eum summe diligere, etsi nullus cedidisset.114

Numerous scholars over the past six centuries have commented on the exact interpretation of these sentences. They have focused primarily on the content of this paragraph rather than the methodology behind Scotus’ statement. I will consider the content of this position of Scotus in chapter seven. In the following paragraphs, my focus is not on the content vis-à-vis the motive of incarnation, but rather on the methodology that Scotus uses in this passage. Scotus himself does not say a word about methodology; he, too, appears to be content-focused. Nor have I found any scotistic scholar who has in his or her commentary made

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Scotus, Reportatio Parisiensis, II, d. 20, q. 4, § 5.

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method rather than content the focus of this passage. However, there is in my judgement a methodology-in-action in the paragraph that is different from Scotus’ usual dialectical methodology. My extrapolation of this method is as follows. First of all, Scotus focuses on the actual world of created finite beings. He is not focused on a hypothetical or possible world. His focus remains on the created world that surrounds us, and he takes a very practical and pragmatic approach to this world. In this regard, Scotus fits in well with the common description of British philosophy, namely a British philosophy that tends to be practical, concrete, non-hypothetical, and realistic. Locke, Hume, Whitehead and many other British scholars reflect this same realistic philosophical bent. Secondly, the method can be illustrated as follows. Think, for the moment, of an empty table-top. Scotus begins to place actual sections of reality on the top of the table. For Scotus, a medieval Catholic-Christian, reality included not simply our universe, but also angels, heaven, hell, etc. All of these realities were part of creation for the medieval world and all of them needed to be placed on top of the table. Of importance for a person of Scotus’ time would also be the human nature of Jesus, the human death of Jesus, as well as the church, that means popes, bishops and priests, religious men and women, as well as Christian lay men and women. Again, all of these are placed on top of the table. Saracens, Jews, and other non-Christians are also placed on the top of Scotus’ table. In other words, Scotus in his mind is placing every actual created reality on the table top that includes animals, minerals and vegetation. No actual created being is left out. As a believing Christian, Scotus also places God on this table top. We see this when he writes: Primo Deus diligit se; secundo diligit se in aliis, et iste est amor castus; tertio vult se diligi ab alio, qui potest eum summe diligere, loquendo de amore alicujus extrinseci.115

For Scotus, God is certainly present on top of the table and God is the number one reality on this table. God is there primarily as a God who loves God: “Primo Deus diligit se.” However, this love is trinitarian: “Secundo diligit se in aliis, et iste est amor castus.” The phrase, “in aliis,” cannot refer to someone or something outside of God, since the outside-

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Scotus, Reportatio Parisiensis, II, d. 20, q. 4, § 5.


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aspect shows up only in the third step: “Tertio vult se diligi ab alio, qui potest eum summe diligere, loquendo de amore alicujus extrinseci.” Among all the realities on top of the methodological table, the triune God is the most important reality. Everything else is secondary. Admittedly, the table top is a spatial image and therefore has major limitations. In spite of these limitations, I am asking the reader to envision such a table with all of reality on top of it. All reality is univocally there. The liminal table top itself can be related to the liminal univocity of isness mentioned in chapter four. The table top is descriptive of Scotus’ statement: “Unless being implies one univocal intention (i.e., concept), theology would simply perish.” The opposite of the table top with all of reality gathered on it is absolute non-being. Therefore, whatever liminally is, including God, is on the table top. Obviously, the spatiality of the image, table top, is itself limiting, since liminal-univocal isness, as mentioned above, suffuses all that is, and suffusing is far more comprehensive than any spatial image such as a table top can allow. I acknowledge this limitation of the image. On the other hand, the methodology Scotus is using is a methodology that places before us all “being” or “all isness” including God. Thus, all actual realities are on the table top, and the emphasis needs to be on the phrase, all actual realities, with none left out. At first glance, the amassing of all these realities appears disorganized. However, this is where I see a methodological procedure on the part of Scotus. After every being has been placed on top of the table in a disorganized way, Scotus then poses the basic question: what, if anything, unifies all of these various and diverse realities? Is there any particular reality on the table that has a unifying capability? Before we answer this question there is a caveat. We must keep in mind Scotus’ own personal context, since the way he, as a medieval person, understands “all being” is different from the way a postmodern, third-millennium person understands all being. Scotus, in a way similar to Bonaventure, belonged to a different age, namely, the late-thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries. Scotus belonged to the medieval world of Europe that was roughly ninety percent Catholic-Christian. At that time, there were no Protestant denominations. There were heretics, but these were Catholic-Christian heretics. On the table there were perhaps a few atheists, but these, too, were Catholic-Christian atheists, that is, they denied the God of the Catholic-Christian world. Medieval Europe knew of non-Christian groups, but in their limited viewpoint, these non-Christian groups inhabited the edges of the flat-universe,

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and they were, so it was believed, few in number. Basically, these were the Saracens. The Jewish people at that time were often ghettoized, and so they, too, were marginal. By and large, the ordinary medieval person lived and moved and had his or her being in a very CatholicChristian universe. Besides the diverse realities of the natural, geographical world, there were also institutions, such as the church and the governmental structures of the social arena. As yet, church and state had not been separated; as yet, the religious and the secular were not divorced from one another. Thus the “state” was a Christian state, and the “secular side of life” was a Christian secular side of life. At the time of Scotus, the European world was considered the only known real world, and it was definitely a Christian-Catholic world. In one way or another, all human institutions were embroidered into the Catholic-Christian fabric of created life. Jesus, of course, was part of this fabric. Scotus with his CatholicChristian eyes viewed the entire Catholic-Christian universe in which he lived. With his own Catholic-Christian intellect, he sought out the unifying element of this Catholic-Christian diversity. Today, the table top would include much more. However, for the moment I am asking the reader to look at the world from the standpoint of a medieval individual such as Scotus. One might object that I am clearly going beyond what Scotus states in the simple paragraph above. I confess that I am doing so. However, after many years of reflecting on this passage of Scotus, I have come to the insight that his methodology is extremely important. Scotus only speaks of certain issues in the paragraph, as evidenced by his use of first, second, third, fourth and fifth. In spite of this five-fold enumeration, I believe that he is thinking of every aspect of the created world as he knew it and that he is asking the question: what unifies this manifold created world? This search for universal unity can be found in another major writing by Scotus, namely, in the De Primo Principio.116 In this lengthy volume, Scotus ended up with a triple supremacy of being. From the essential order of eminence, the most eminent is supreme. From the essential

116 Scotus, A Treatise on God as First Principle, (Chicago: Franciscan Herald Press, 1966); Latin text, Eng. trans., and commentary by Allan Wolter, passim.


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order of prius-posterius, the unsurpassable prius is most supreme. From the essential order of cause, there were two primal causalities, the final cause and the efficient cause. The final cause was, for Scotus, the more important. Thus from the order of cause the ultimate final cause was the most supreme. The answer that Scotus gives to the questions: “What is the most important reality on the table top? What is the supreme unifying element?” is based on the criteria of the triple supremacy: the supremacy of eminence, of prius-posterius, and of final causality. The methodological answer in all of this is as follows: 1. On the basis of the triple supremacy, Scotus sees first of all that God is the answer of unification. God’s loves himself. 2. On the basis of the triple supremacy, God also loves himself in a relational way. As mentioned above, the others are the trinitarian “others,” because God loves himself “in a most pure and holy love.” The focus in this sentence is clearly on the inner-relational essence of God. 3. In a third way, God wants “to be loved by another who can love him perfectly, and here I am referring to the love of someone outside of God.” The perfect outside-of-God lover can be determined by the perfection of eminence, priority, and causality. Which lover outside of God is perfect in eminence, priority, and causality? 4. Therefore, fourthly, God foresees the union between the Word and the creature Christ who owes him supreme love, even had there never been a fall. After God, the centering reality is Jesus in his humanity. In all this, Scotus is using a method to discern qualitative differences based on his own essential orders. For Scotus, the methodology does not lead to a series of intellectual issues with one reasonable issue better than another. In the very phraseology of Scotus, the terms love and will appear again and again. Scotus’ insistence on divine love (which clearly includes the divine will) indicates that one must take into account the infinite and absolute freedom of God’s creative action. All things outside of God, that is the totality of creation, are radically contingent, both diachronically and synchronically. Radical contingency also affects the humanity of Jesus. Since the humanity of Jesus is radically contingent, the humanity of Jesus cannot be a motive for God’s creative action. Scotus sees the role of Jesus’ humanity only in the fourth place.

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In Scotus’ view of creation, God’s love, God’s free will, and God’s supreme eminence dominate. What purpose, then, did God have to create this particular, real, Christian-catholic world that Scotus had placed on his table-top? His answer is methodologically very clear. God loves himself, and God loves himself in others and this is a most pure and holy love. This ad intra love of God-being-God is the motive of everything else. When we come to the contingent world ad extra, God wills to be loved by another who is outside of God and who can love God profoundly. Such a lover is Jesus. In the spacetime reality of our universe, Jesus in his human nature gives God supreme love. Lastly, God foresees that Jesus will be the Mediator, who will also redeem sinful people. In this classification, sin is not the controlling factor for the incarnation. Sin is a reality on Scotus’ table, but it does not determine creation, the sending of the Logos, or the sending of the Spirit. Contemporary scientists utilize a similar method. They amass various and disparate items of data. The scientists also ask about unity and ranking. Often, when scientists operate along these methodological lines new insights develop. For instance, in the mind of one scientist, in viewing the disparate data a small hypothesis begins to take shape. Subsequently, in controlled laboratories, test after test is made and variables are kept to the minimum. The hypothesis becomes stronger and stronger. Perhaps other scientists join with him in the testing. Other scientists may offer criticism that then causes the testers to readapt their own systems. Finally, after adequate testing, the hypothesis is accepted as a principle of science. It will remain so, until new data and new methods of testing develop, that then might cause a rethinking of the hypothesis itself. Time and again, the history of science has evidenced this methodology. Creation, a theological term, covers an enormous amount of actual data. Since God is infinite, God could have created many other items and many other universes, about which we know nothing. What God could have created or even what God has created but of which we know nothing, are not relevant issues for us. What is relevant for us is the explicitation of the created world that we know. Scotus, for his day and age, gathered the data, sorted it out in some form of order, and made his conclusions. The method he followed is simple and clear. b. The Value of Scotus’ Method for the Third Millennium Worldview Were Scotus alive today, what would his methodological process look like? This is a hypothetical question, and no answer is possible. What is


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possible, however, is our own use of this same methodology within the framework of the third millennium. We, too, live in a universe, and we understand our universe in a way that Scotus could never have done. In today’s understanding of the microcosm and the macrocosm, there are details of spacetime that no medievalist ever imagined. Today, we are able to place on the surface of our table an enormous amount of material concerning the microcosm and the macrocosm. Our knowledge of the universe makes for a very full, disjointed, contentious, and crowded table. On our “third-millennial table,” one finds not only Christian believers, but also Buddhist, Daoist, Muslim, and Hindu believers. These non-Christian believers are no longer on the edges of our universe; they are, at the center of our world. They are in fact the majority of human life. Our table can be called a “spacetime table,” since the actual universe we know is coterminous with our spacetime, and everything we know is known only within our spacetime. In fact, our minds are spacetime minds and can only function in a spacetime way. Our wills are spacetime wills and can only desire in a spacetime way. We live in a three-dimensional world, and thus everything we do is three-dimensional. Temporality and relativity are part and parcel of our data. We are synchronically and diachronically contingent. Hawking notes that in other spacetimes (hypothetical as these might be) there might exist a five-dimensional world or a seven-dimensional world.117 However, we have no concepts to describe any of these “other spacetimes” or their plural-dimensionalities. Our three-dimensional world is intrinsically temporal. Being and temporality are inseparable. Objectivity, eternity, and absoluteness are issues that are currently challenged. Our table-top cannot help but include these challenging and challenged issues as well. All these issues merit a place on our thirdmillennium table-top. Our table-top is gloabalized and multicultural. Religion is a part of our real and actual world. Contemporary voices have often been heard, demanding a purely secularist society. Such a society de facto does not exist, not even in the United States of America. Major parts of our societies, whether one likes it or not, have profound religious dimensions. We cannot hide religion in some closet, as though it did not exist. Religion is an actual factor of human life today, as is evident in almost every area where war is currently being

117 Stephen Hawking, The Nature of Space and Time (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton, University Press, 1996), 140–141.

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waged. Consequently, competing religions are on our third-millennium table-top. For Roman Catholics, indeed for all Christians, Jews, and Muslims, there is a creed of “revealed truths.” These come from God and yet God is not a spacetime God, even though we think of God in a spacetime way. Both the sacred texts of each religion and each religion’s holy traditions are a part of the table-top. Since our world is not mono-cultural, competing cultures are also on our table-top. In the natural world, the clock is ticking. The energy of the sun is limited. One day, the last gasp of solar energy will be emitted from “our” sun. If human beings still exist at that moment of time, their existence will end. Without the sun, human existence is impossible. Our universe, changed as it might be, would continue on without human life, for human life is not the physical center of the universe. The eternal hills will one day show how temporal they are. The hills will do this by the fact that they are no longer in existence. Eternal hills are, in reality, temporal hills. Nothing on our contemporary table of created realities can be adjudicated as absolute and necessary, eternal and unchanging; everything on our table is radically contingent and relative. There are, of course, some people who claim absolute objectivity and absolute truth, and these people, together with their claims, will be on our table. They, too, are part of the created world today. Their presence is acknowledged; the validity of their claim is not necessarily acknowledged. For a Catholic-Christian and a person of Jewish or Muslim faith, God is the ultimate creator of all that is on our table-top world. Everything present on our spacetime table, these believers would say, comes from God. These voices, too, are on our table-top. At this stage of amassing the material, we are simply laying out the data. Only when the all data is on the table, do we reach the stage of classifying and evaluating the amassed data. When we arrive at this post-amassing juncture, we, as believers, can return to Scotus’ method and ask his own question: did God have a purpose for such a creation? We will answer yes. Did God create the lesser for the better? We might also answer yes, for God is neither capricious nor without values. Anselm of Canterbury and Thomas Aquinas, two major medieval scholars, argued that the creation of the human nature of Jesus was not something foreordained by God, and therefore was not the centralizing point of all creation. When, and only when, Adam and Eve had


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sinned did God decide on the incarnation. The Logos became flesh, so that human nature could be saved. Creation by itself ante-dates the incarnation, and therefore, Jesus centralizes only a post-lapsarian creation. Franciscans raised a contrary voice, stating that such an interpretation made the incarnation merely an “add on” to creation or a “remedy” needed only because of sin. Such a view made the incarnation epiphenomenal. Today, Anselm’s and Thomas’ view is also placed on our table, since there are many contemporary Protestant and Catholic Christians who subscribe to their theological position. Indeed, Protestant and Catholic liturgical hymns and prayers abundantly pay homage to Jesus, the Savior, and they do this in ways that reflect the positions of Anselm and Thomas. However, Anselm’s and Thomas’ position, like the Franciscan position, is simply one among several. No theology is absolute; all theologies can be changed. This is acutely true as regards the redemption of humanity from sin. The complexity on our table-top today indicates that a contemporary answer to these questions is not easy. The contemporary spacetime world is far too complex. Temporality, historicity, relativity, and an objectivity-mixed-with-subjectivity are part-and-parcel of our universe. Linguistic variety and the non-univocity of languages add to the complexity. So, what is the answer? Before any answer is presented, one factor must be accepted as a fundamental presupposition. The answer, still to be given, cannot be an answer that does not relate to the entirety of the table-top realities. In other words—and this is key—the answer itself must be relational in a comprehensive way. An answer that is relational and comprehensive is, today, a very difficult answer to come by. One might say: God is the answer, but questions immediately arise: Which God? Whose interpretation of God? Others might say Jesus is the answer, but questions again immediately arise: Which interpretation of Jesus? Why Jesus and not Mohammed of Buddah? A Jesus-answer must be a Jesus-in-relation to all on the table answer. But other religions find such an inclusive-Jesus-answer a disrespect of their own integrity. A God-has-spoken answer must be a God-has-spoken-answer in relation to all the realities on the table, since every aspect on the table-top is, as believers say, created by God. Every reality, then, must be respected as a gift from God, and this respect for all of God’s gifts must undergird any and every answer that is given. But those who do not hold to a personal God would find this answer unacceptable.

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They would also make the charge that the God-has-spoken advocates are once more making the ineffable effable. A totally different issue adds to the complicated situation. Some of the items on the table-top might be considered “lepers” by those offering an answer, but the leper realities are also part of God’s good creation and must be reverenced. When we, the Christian communities, are faced with such a massive display of God’s creation, exclusion of “leper-elements” becomes problematical. If God has created the “leper elements,” then how can we reject the leper elements out of hand? The exclusion of something judged to be evil, bad, heathen, pagan, and diabolical needs some justification. For Christians, God alone is the creator. None of us are creators, nor is the church a creator. Since God alone created all things, all created realities, even “leper” realities are good. Moreover, God alone is the ultimate judge. We do not tell the creator which creatures, that God has made, are the good ones and which are the rejects. This is not our prerogative, nor is it the church’s prerogative. The height and depth, the breadth and width of creation leave us in awe. God has loved so many realities into being. A theology of church cannot be a church that disregards or disparages the “leper” issues found in creation. An incredible theology of church appears, whenever church leadership and church people begin a process of exclusion. Are some of God’s own creatures being excluded, simply because church leadership or church people do not want to include certain aspects of God’s creation into their understanding of “church”? Scotus has provided us with a method and this method, mutatis mutandis, is helpful today in a globalized, multi-cultural, and multireligions world. Both the method and the answers in this methodology are inescapably relational. The rating of some realities—God or Jesus—is relational. A “centering” issue relates itself to all other issues, and all other issues are related to the centering issue. The ad extra actions of God are contingent and relational. Any and every answer as to what centers creation can only be relational. A non-relational answer is incredible. c. The Humanness of Jesus How often Christians have heard that in Jesus there are two natures but only one person. There is a human nature and there is a divine nature, but there is only one person, namely, a divine person. In many


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theological manuals, the humanity of Jesus was described in words of perfection. The human Jesus had a fullness of grace from the first moment of his conception. He possessed all the infused virtues. He was free from all sin, original and actual. In fact, Jesus was absolutely impeccable. His knowledge included the beatific vision, again from the moment of conception onward, and no error ever marred Jesus’ human knowledge. He was perfect in his obedience to God, and His human will always followed the divine will. As a human being, Jesus was not omnipotent, but his power was beyond the powers of all other creatures.118 Such a listing of perfections raises the question: was he human in the same way that we are human? In his chapter on Cristología, Iammarrone begins the section on Scotus with material that rarely receives scholarly attention. Although the section is blandly entitled, La concepción de la naturaleza y de la persona humana,119 Iammarrone does not reiterate the picture of Jesus’ human nature just described. He moves in a different direction. He writes: El ser humano es una naturaleza (natura) dotada de existencia (existentia o esse) individual determinada (hecceitas).120

It is the word, Haecceitas that alerts the reader to something very special. Scotus himself used the word Haecceitas sparingly. It is found only in two sections of his writings, namely in the Reportatio and in the Quaestiones super libros Metaphysicorum Aristotelis.121 For Scotus, it is Haecceitas that makes a singular thing what it is in itself, and thus differentiates the singular from all other comparable beings. It gives a singular value to a given contingent reality. When Haecceitas is applied to the incarnate Logos, one is stating that Jesus’ humanness was a singularly and special creation by God, just as the humanness of every individual is a singular and unique special creation. In many ways, it is more accurate to say that God did not create human natures; rather, God created singular, unique human individuals. Jesus was one of these unique, singular, and individualized human natures. 118 The language in this paragraph is taken from Tanquerey, Synopsis Theologiae Dogmaticae, “De Verbo Incarnato et Redemptore,” pars prior, chapter 3, “De natura assumpta,” 685–720. 119 Iammarrone, 173. 120 Ibid., 173. 121 Scotus, Reportatio, II, d. 3, nn. 25, 29, 31, and 32; see also Quaestiones super libros Metaphysicorum Aristotelis, VII, q. 3.

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Iammarrone moves on to indicate that Scotus went to great lengths to emphasize “la radical creaturalidad del ser humano de Jesucristo, su finitud y por tanto su devenir histórico; su límite y gradualidad en el concocer y en el querer.”122 Too often, theologians throughout history have emphasized the perfection of Jesus’ human nature since the Logos was hypostatically incarnated in Jesus’ human nature. In other words, theologians have focused on the dignity of the generalized term: human nature. Haecceitas focuses on the dignity of an individual humanness. Each human individual lives at a particular time and in a particular area. He or she is localized and temporalized. Each human individual has his or her own history, that no one else has, and it is a limited history, but a unique history. Individuation and Haecceitas stress the singular not the universal, the uniqueness not the common essentiality. Since one is dealing with a finite individualized reality, there are limits and there is relativity. Generally, theologians have taught that the incarnation of the Logos in the human nature of Jesus has given a profound dignity to human nature generally. In Scotus’ view, the redounding dignity of the incarnation is on the heightened honor of each individual human person. Today, given the enormous scotistic material on contingency, we can express Scotus’ description on the Haecceitas of every individual creature in a much more philosophical way. Jesus’ particular humanness, similar to the humanness of all individualized men and women, is contingent and not-necessary; it is thoroughly temporal and spatial, which means limited, finite, and imperfect. It also means relational and historical. In other words, it is a “becoming” individualized reality that due to its finitude remains at every step of its journey limited and open to development. Jesus’ humanity falls under both diachronic and synchronic contingency.123 To speak of the particular and individualized humanness of Jesus as unnecessary cannot help but cause some concern. Few Christians join non-necessity to Jesus. Nonetheless, no creature is necessary, and this applies to the particular humanness of Jesus, just as it applies to the particular and individualized humanness of each man and woman. 122

Iammarrone, 175. Vos Jaczn, et al., John Duns Scotus: Contingency and Freedom—Lectura I, 39; Sylvanowicz, Contingent Causality and the Foundations of Duns Scotus’ Metaphysics; and Pini, Categories and Logic in Duns Scotus. 123


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Ingham concludes her article, “John Duns Scotus: An Integrated Vision,” with the following: Thus, we come full circle in a universe inspired by freedom and divine love. It was a free choice on the part of God to create, to become incarnate, and to sanctify all persons. This divine freedom cannot be grasped by natural reflection in the absence of revelation, because the human mind seeks natural and necessary causes for experience.124

It was a free choice on the part of God to become incarnate, she writes, which means that God had no necessity whatsoever to incarnate the Logos in the human nature of Jesus. Since the incarnation stems from God’s infinitely free and loving will, it cannot be described as necessary. Rather, it remains a grace, a gift from an infinitely free God. With this in mind, let us return to the primacy of Jesus. Too often, the centering of creation on Jesus leaves to one side Scotus’ clear and abundant teaching that the trinitarian God out of freedom and infinite love willed creation. It leaves to one side his teaching that the incarnation itself was a freely chosen action of the trinitarian God. Likewise, one can say that the sending of the Spirit was a totally free action of a trinitarian God. When the primacy of Jesus becomes center stage, the context and foundation of this Jesus-primacy at times loses its own centering focus. Jesus the center in his humanness indicates to us that there is yet a greater and more important center: the trinitarian God and the freedom of God’s actions ad extra. The sending of the Logos was directed to a thisness, to an individual, and thisness is an individualized principle which is intrinsic, unique, and proper to each and every single person.125 The primacy of Jesus can, at times cease to be a window opening up to us the greatness of God’s loving freedom. Too often, the primacy of Jesus begins to be a stained glass window in itself, leaving the light of the sun merely instrumental and secondary. Contemporary efforts to describe a “cosmic Christ” end up presenting a Christ who is not an individualized human nature. A cosmic Christ no longer shares the same humanity that men and women

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Ingham, “John Duns Scotus: An Integrated Vision,”: 225–226. For an understanding of Haecceitas, see Ingham, 188–210. Also Allan Wolter, “Scotus’ Individuation Theory,” The Philosophical Theology of John Duns Scotus (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990), ed. Marilyn McCord Adams, 68–97; Wolter, Duns Soctus’ Early Oxford Lecture on Individuation, (Santa Barbara, California: Old Mission Santa Barbara, 1992); Jorge J. E. Gracia, “Individuality and the Individuating Entity in Scotus’s Ordinatio: An Ontological Characterization,” ME:229–249. 125

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have. A cosmic Christ retranslates the very significance of the incarnation. That God sent the Logos (missio) to be manifest (manifestatio) in one Haeccitas contains a message that each individual qua individual is of highest value. When a cosmic Jesus begin to take center stage, the very message of the Logos’ missio and manifestatio are compromised. d. The Primacy of a Trinitarian God vis-à-vis Creation The context for the primacy of Jesus is the absolute freedom of God and the infinite breadth of God’s love. Christocentrism makes sense, for Scotus, only on the basis of God’s freedom and love. God’s freedom and love form the major center for all actiones ad extra of God. The centrality or primacy of Jesus, especially if the focus is on his human nature, is a secondary centrality. If it is God’s freedom to bring about the incarnation of the Logos in the human nature of Jesus, then the incarnation per se remains unnecessary. Otherwise, God would not be absolutely free. The incarnate Jesus is totally dependent on the free will of God and the loving choice of God. In this sense, Jesus, though center in a limited way, is totally contingent. God’s freedom for actiones ad extra disallows any necessitating factor which might make the humanness of Jesus a cosmic, all-inclusive, and salvific reality. Only God is cosmic, all-inclusive, and salvific. Scotus’ writings clearly contain an abundance of material on the centrality of Jesus. However, throughout his writings there is a greater abundance of material on the infinite freedom of God. In the Quaestiones Quodlibetales the focus of the first six questions is on God ad intra. From the seventh question onward the focus is on the relationship of God to creatures.126 Time and time again, critics of Scotus have raised issues about his emphasis on God’s infinite freedom. For these critics, since God can do whatever God wants, God is capricious. Although this is a misreading of Scotus, the energy spent on the issue indicates that Scotus’ teaching on the free will of an infinite God is far more centering to his entire program than the centering of Jesus among creatures. In his discussions on Distinctiones XV–XVIII of Peter Lombard’s Libri IV Sententiarum, Scotus notes that the relationship of creation to the sending of the Logos would be provided in his later section on

126 Scotus, God and Creatures—the Quodlibetal Questions. On the internal nature of God, 5–158; on God’s relationship to creatures, 159–484.


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christology. In these distinctions, he focused on the Holy Spirit. His theological contemporaries, Henry of Ghent and Godfrey of Fontaines, were teaching that the Holy Spirit was personally present in the soul of a holy and graced person, and that it was the love of the Holy Spirit in the human person, not the human love of the graced person him or herself, that allowed one to speak of an individual “loving God with one’s whole heart and soul.” In other words, the human person does not truly love God in a way that is meritorious to the person himself or herself. Rather, the Holy Spirit’s love is what is accepted by God. For these two theologians, this indwelling of the Spirit in a human person was the sending and manifestation of the Spirit. Since Scotus clearly taught that both the human will and the human intellect were the center of the human person, he felt that both Henry of Ghent and Godfrey of Fontaines had degraded human life. His discussion of the sending of the Spirit, therefore, focused on the role of the human will in an act of love. The Spirit provided the grace for human loving but did not supplant human loving. I have analyzed Scotus’ approach to these distinctions in an article entitled, “A Scotistic Foundation for Christian Spirituality.”127 However, as Freyer rightfully notes, the role of the Holy Spirit in creation is an underdeveloped aspect of Scotus’ theology. Auch wenn Skotus an verschiedenen Stellen immer wieder betont, dass im Blick auf die Schöpfung und auf die hypostatische Union die ganze Trinität “causa”, Ursache des göttlichen Handelns ist, bleibt die Darstellung der Aufgabe und Rolle des Heiligen Geistes von Skotus unterentwickelt.128

In the above material on creation as presented by both Bonaventure and Scotus, there was a permeating sense of optimism and goodness. The point of departure was, of course, God as the creator of all things. God even created the “leper realities,” and as such the leper realities had to be included in the goodness of a creative God. The question of the existence of evil and sin throughout the created world cannot be tucked to one side. How do evil and sin interconnect with the overriding goodness of God? Is there anything in the Franciscan tradition that might provide help to the answering of such a question?

127 128

Osborne, “A Scotistic Foundation for Christian Spirituality”: 371–385. Freyer, 67.

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chapter six 5. The Mystery of Evil and the Franciscan Tradition

To offer an answer to the question of evil, Augustine’s approach remains a basic stance. He states that one must first have some appreciation of the good in order to have some insight into the bad. One must appreciate grace before one can understand sin. Freyer, in his volume Homo Viator: Der Mensch im Lichte der Heilsgeschichte, presents a lengthy theological anthropology from the Franciscan perspective.129 He, too, begins with the goodness of God and of creation. Only after an encompassing discussion of God’s graciousness, does he turn to human reality without salvation, Realität ohne Heil.130 In these pages, he reviews the essence of sin and its consequences as found in the writings of Francis of Assisi, Anthony of Padua, Alexander of Hales, Bonaventure, Peter John Olivi, and John Duns Scotus. First of all, Freyer combs the writings of Francis himself, noting how frequently Francis referred to himself as a sinner, even as a great sinner. Generally, people have considered Francis a great saint. How can Francis be thought of as a great sinner? Perhaps the answer for this is the following. As with many saintly people, the more Francis appreciated the goodness of God, the more clearly he perceived his own human weaknesses and defects. By knowing the good in abundance, Francis was able to see evil in his own personal life. To know and understand evil, one must first of all have some knowledge of the good. This is an axiom which one finds in many scholars throughout human history. For Francis, sin comes from a person’s free will, from the innermost part of a human being, and from one’s own personal center.131 Sexuality and materiality are not the causes of sin. Rather, sin is a personal defect, stemming from one’s deepest dimension, the human will. But sin, though connected to the will, is a negative dimension of the will. In a sinful act, sin consists in not willing to accept the goodness of God. Sin is not-willing the good. Not-willing the good is the root of sin. Not-willing is negative, not positive. Yet, we only understand the

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Freyer, 309–389. Ibid., 185–213. 131 Ibid,. 187–188: “Für Franziscus ist dabei klar, dass die Sünde der freien Verantwortung des Menschen entspringt. Dabei ist in seiner Vorstellung nicht das Körperliche der Ausgangspunt zur Sünde Die Sünde entspringt aus dem Inneren des Menschen, sozusagen aus seiner Personmitte.” 130


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negative if we first appreciate the positive. To know the bad one must first appreciate the good. Alexander of Hales also teaches that the human will is the cause of sin by its not-willing the good. Sin takes place through the willing of a false goal and this non-willing-of-the-good has serious consequences on the created order. On the one hand it is the human free will that is the source of sin; on the other hand, sin is fundamentally a negativity. Während die Ursache der Enfaltung des Bösen für Alexander aus dem freien Willen des Menschen kommt stammt für ihn das Böse al solches aus dem Nichts.132

Bonaventure interprets the Genesis account of the fall of Adam and Eve in an historical or fairly literal way, an interpretation which was common for many thirteenth-century theologians. Nonetheless, Bonaventure follows Alexander’s lead, for he maintains that evil is nonbeing. Evil is a lack of being, negating the artistry and harmony found in God’s creation. Through sin the free will of a human person brings about disorder, disharmony, and dis-beauty. By willing disorder, a human person chooses a relative good over God’s abundant good. In this choosing, both the human mind and will work together.133 As a consequence, sin for Bonaventure comes from the inner center of the human being, not from sexuality or materiality, and is basically explained in negative terms. In his commentary on the Sentences, Peter John Olivi offers us a theological description of sin: Sciendum quod quidditas peccati originalis, quantum ad id, quod dicit positive et principaliter, es amor sui propter se in appetitu superiori naturaliter ingenitus et in potentias rationali voluntati subiectas efficaci redundantia diffusus et in Deum tanquam in finem ultimum non relatus, immo contrarians ei et rebellans ordini illi. . . . Quantum autem ad id quod dicit negative, est versio mentis a Deo, ita quod habitualiter non innititur ei sicut fini ultimo nec sicut principali amico sive dilecto nec sicut primae regulae agendorum et appetendorum nec sicut primo principio vel motori ac preceptori omnium agendorum. Includit etiam in eo privationem virtutis et rectitudinis sibi contrariae.134

132

Ibid., 191. Bonaventure Sent., II, 814 and 869. See Breviloquium III, c. 1, 8; c. 2, 3; and Collationes in Hexaëmeron, I, 26. 134 Peter John Olivi, Sent. q. 110, p. 261ff. 133

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In Olivi’s explanation, we hear yet another Franciscan speaking about sin. Sin arises from a person’s free will which loves and seeks something that is basically negative vis-à-vis God’s good creation. The human free will prefers to exalt the negative, that is, the finite and contingent, over God’s own being. The human person freely chooses negativity. The aspects of beauty and harmony in God’s creation are disregarded. Negativity is non-being. Therefore, no created reality is in itself bad, since God has created all reality. There are no sinful things per se nor are there any sinful actions per se. The position that there are things or actions which are intrinsically evil is theologically a dangerous position, since it implies that God has created some “thing” or some “reality” which is intrinsically evil or even that God has provided the positivity of some human actions, actions which are in themselves intrinsically evil. When it comes to being (ens, esse or essentia), no being can be an evil or sinful being, nor can actions in their beingness be in se evil or sinful. Sin denotes and connotes negativity. It is the only in the lack of some “thing” which allows us to speak of evil and sin. John Duns Scotus dealt with the theological issues of sin in a way that is philosophically more explicit than any of his Franciscan predecessors.135 He does this primarily on the basis of his anthropology, a theme to which Scotus in his many writings returned time and time again. For Scotus, finite being in its very essence is radically contingent, and therefore permeated by negativity. By itself, this negativity is not sinful. Rather, negativity is expressed in such philosophical terms as contingent, non-necessary, temporal, historical, and spatial. All of these terms are negative qualifications, but none of these qualifications are evil or sinful. Compared to an infinite and infinitely loving God, creatures can only be seen as second-rate, deficient, and impoverished. At this juncture of his argument, theology and philosophy begin to weave together, for it is only when we have some inkling of the goodness and love of an infinitely free being, namely God in God’s own self, are we able to understand the profound limitations of our own being, including our sinful inclinations.136 God enjoys infinite goodness; we creatures have 135 See Allan Wolter and Oleg Bychov, John Duns Scotus: The Examined Report of the Paris Lecture (St. Bonaventure, NY: Franciscan Institute Publications, 2008) 564–569. In this section Scotus answers two major questions regarding evil: “Does God permit evil to exist?” and “Is a created will that is in conformity with the divine will right and good?” 136 Theologically speaking, one can only discuss “sin” in the context of one’s belief in God. Theologically, sin is an affront to God, and thus a person or a community


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limited goodness. This means that there are areas of goodness which we cannot claim, and so we are radically lacking, radically negative, and radically imperfect. A humble creature acknowledges these imperfections. A proud and sinful person chooses to think otherwise. Radical contingency is a major element in Scotus’ philosophical anthropology. In this radical contingency, what “is” is positive and good; but what “is lacking” is philosophically negative. A radically contingent human being, therefore, is basically good in its isness. Negative limitation does not, in itself, mean immoral or sinful. It simply means that the human being in its isness is a radically contingent creature, and therefore a human person is infinitely different from God. In order to understand the moral evaluation of negativity, Scotus develops a theological presentation of the Genesis account of paradise in a way that is astounding for a thirteenth century theologian.137 In this account, Scotus makes a major distinction: there is malum since the world in all its phases is contingent, imperfect, finite, temporal, and spatial. There is peccatum because of the free will of a human being, a free will that was mentioned in the chapter four. In the paragraphs which follow, I will focus not on malum as a contingent effect, but on peccatum which is a human misuse of free will. Franciscus Franić in his essay, “De peccato originali secundum Duns Scotum et recentiores theorias,” presents Scotus’ views in detail.138 In this regard, Scotus is unlike Alexander, Olivi, and Bonaventure. He does not interpret the situation of Adam and Eve in a slavishly historical way. He interprets the Genesis account more as a mythical or symbolic presentation than as an actualized account. Scotus’ philosophical anthropology incorporates an Aristotelian perspective rather than a Platonic perspective. Bonaventure preferred a Platonic philosophy over against an Aristotelian philosophy, while Scotus’ Aristotelian preference is evident in his philosophical

must be God-fearing first. Only in this “faith-context” does the technical meaning of sin make any sense. 137 Franciscus Franić, “De peccato originali secundum Duns Scotum et recentiores theorias,” De Doctrina Ioannis Duns Scoti: Acta Congressus Scotistici Internationalis Oxonii et Edinburgi, 11–17 sept. 1966 celebrati; (Naples: Ercolano, 1968): 439–448. 138 Francis Franíc,” De Peccato Originali secundum Duns Scotum et Recentiores Theorias,” De Doctrina Ioannis Duns Scoti: Acta Congressus Scotistici Internationalis Oxonii et Edimburgi 1966 celebrati (Naples: Poligrafica & Cartevalori—Ercolano, 1968) 439–448.

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anthropology.139 First of all, as Freyer points out, Scotus distinguishes a natural situation, in which Adam and Eve found themselves and a graced situation, which they also enjoyed.140 In their natural human nature, Adam and Eve did have the power to sin. This means that God had created human nature in a way in which sin itself is possible.141 Scotus, however, does not teach that God, therefore, is the cause of sin. Scotus writes: Deus autem est libere et voluntarie agens respectu omnium quae sunt extra ipsum, et ideo compatitur malum. . . . Voluntas creata, quae est causa inferior respectu Dei, quia Deus est eius causa, est causa peccati.142

God indeed creates a human nature which, through its own human causative action, is able to sin. God, however, is not the cause of sin. Sin is based on a human act of free will. By nature we humans have been given free will and we are responsible for the ways in which we use such freedom. In this sense we can begin to understand the Latin phrase cited above: “et ideo (Deus) compatitur malum.” God honors the freedom of our will even when we dishonor our own freedom through sin. God’s honoring of our freedom is a radical part of our human nature, and it was a radical part of the human nature of both Adam and Eve. The natural situation in the so-called paradise of Eden is portrayed by Scotus in a less than perfect way. The Garden of Eden was a natural world quite similar to the world we experience today. There were climatic changes and in the animal world there was violence. Birds ate insects; other animals ate one another. Adam and Eve, when considered from a natural standpoint, experienced sensual rebellion and sadness. Scotus writes: Ideo credo quod in statu innocentiae potuit esse rebellio et tristitia in sensu.143

In the state of innocence according to Scotus venial sin was a possibility in the life of Adam and Eve. He writes:

139 Ingham, Scotus for Dunces (23–33), has outlined one of the bases which distinguish Bonaventure and Scotus, namely, the appreciation of Aristotle. 140 Freyer, 192–196. See also, W. Borowsky, “Duns Scotus’ Bedeutung für die heutige Anthropologie,” Franziskanischen Studien 50 (1968): 257–267. 141 On the issue of a natural power to sin, one can see that Scotus is influenced more by Aristotle than by a Platonic Augustinianism. 142 Scotus Ordinatio IV, d. 49, a. 4, n. 10. 143 Scotus, Reportatio II, d. 29, q. 2, n. 5.


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Ideo non est mihi inconveniens quod vires inferiores tristarentur, tamen totus homo non, sicut prius dixi, quod multoties poterant venialiter peccare in statu innocentiae, et multoties redire, etsi numquam peccassent mortaliter.144

Since death is a natural action of human life, in paradise human beings would have grown old and would also have died, unless God prevented them from doing so. Scotus clearly attenuates the extreme and idyllic happiness usually attributed to the Garden of Eden. In the state of innocence, as described by Scotus, the human person experienced rebellion in his or her sense-reactions, and he or she could commit venial sin and experience pain, bodily weaknesses, old age and even death. All of these “bad” things do not, in his view, arise because of an “original” sin.145 These bad things are part and parcel of contingent human nature. In Islamic-Judaeo-Christian thought, Adam and Eve did commit serious sin. Scotus agrees with this, but he goes on to argue that such sins were their own sins. What Adam and Eve did can only be interpreted as their own personal sin. Their actual and serious sin was not, he argues, original sin. Franić therefore states: Igitur non propter nexum bio-zoologicum, quem cum Adam habemus, peccato originali maculamur, sed maculamur per viam moralem quae nos cum Adam coniungit.146

The biological and zoological connection to Adam is not the cause of sin, but only a necessary condition. Original sin does not find its meaning in the biological or zoological order; original sin qua sin, just as any other form of sin, has its meaning only in an individual’s moral or personal order. This is Scotus’ main point. What then is “original sin” in the teaching of Scotus” Original sin must, he argues, be found in the moral or personal order. Freyer focuses on this in a clear way: Daraus folgt für Skotus, dass die Sünde formal und zuvorderst nicht im Gedanken, im Wort und in der Tat zu finden ist, sondern allein im Akt des Willens. Daraus schliesst Skotus, dass kein Akt aus sich schlecht sein kann, wenn er nicht von einem formal schlechten Akt des Willens befohlen ist. . . . Skotus setzt folglich die Eigenverantwortung des Menschen für Sünde und seinen Fall allein aus der freien Willensentscheidung des

144 145 146

Ibid., II, d. 29, q. 2, n. 6. Franić, op. cit., 441. Ibid., 443.

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chapter six Menschen für seine Sünde und seinen Fall hoch an, da er in der Sünde nichts Naturhaftes, sondern etwas Personhaftes sieht.147

Original sin is not passed on in any biological or zoological way. It is only passed on by means of a personal way. One should note that Scotus clearly states that there is no thought, word, or deed which in and of itself is intrinsically evil. Evil comes from the free human will, but in a way which indicates a negativity, that is, a non-choosing of good. There is no such thing, word, or act which is intrinsically or positively evil.148 The negativity of free human willing is the only source of both sin and the fall, and for Scotus this includes the meaning of original sin. Scotus makes his argument for original sin in the following way. God’s will, in the case of Adam and Eve, indicate that if they seriously sinned, their children would experience the consequences of their personal sin. Moral goodness, in Scotus’ approach is personal and relational; moral evil is personal and relational. We shall see in the next chapter that a relational theology of church is contextualized by a relational theology of creation, which includes a relational theology of moral goodness and moral evil. In the Genesis story, we find a personal sin of both Adam and Eve. They themselves first sinned and their sin was indeed personal. However, we also find that Adam and Eve by their personal sin had rejected any consideration of God’s will and this included their non-consideration of the consequences of sin. These two “sins” are not the same for Scotus. In our present situation, human beings also sin, and their sin is first of all a personal act of free will. In this sense, our sin and the sins of Adam and Eve are personal. By such sinful acts, we do not commit an original sin, nor by their sinful acts did Adam and Eve commit an original sin. For Scotus, original sin originates in a free decision which God had made. God had freely decided and had freely indicated to Adam and Eve that their very being was relational. For Scotus, Haecceitas is not privatized individuality. Haecceitas does indeed honor the unique individual, but it also honors the individual’s relational being. We are a “thisness” because there is a “thatness.” In this relational context, sinful

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Freyer, 193. The issue of something “intrinisically evil” is a major issue in the Roman Catholic Church today. John Paul II in his encyclical Veritatis splendor insisted on such intrinsic evil, but many current Catholic moral theologians have raised serious arguments against the view of an intrinsic evil thing, word, or act, following Thomas, ST, pars prima, q. 5, Respondeo: “Omne ens in quantum est ens est bonum.” 148


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acts have social repercussions. Therefore, if Adam and Eve sinned in a serious way, their children would find themselves in a socially and seriously alienated situation. There was nothing in the personal evil actions of Adam and Eve qua personal which constituted original sin. Rather, original sin, for Scotus, had a different origin, namely, God’s free decision to create human beings who could be defined as Haecceitas, but an Haecceitas within a world with “Illeitas.” Adam and Eve, through their personal and serious sin, acted immorally, and they also knowingly disregarded God’s freely made connection of their sinful actions to the social welfare of their offspring. In this way, Scotus argues, original sin is not the same as personal sin. To make this clear, let us review Scotus’ presentation of human anthropology and sin. This entails his understanding of the two tablets of the Mosaic Law. On the first tablet we find the command to love God with our entire heart and soul. God cannot order anyone not to love God totally. This is an absolute requirement.149 United to this commandment to love God is the commandment to love our neighbor For Scotus, the basis for loving our neighbor is God. God has created our neighbor. Therefore, if we love our neighbor we love God. If we do not love our neighbor, we do not love God. God, however, must be loved (first commandment) and therefore our neighbor must also be loved (second commandment). The necessity inherent in both of these commandments is the same: we must love God. Scotus also connects the third commandment to our love of God. For Scotus, the third commandment is not basically worshipping God on a particular day—the Sabbath or Sunday. Rather, if the basic norm is to love God, then we must express this love for God directly or indirectly. When we do express our love for God, we are praying. For Scotus, the third commandment is not centered on a particular form of prayer (Sunday Eucharist). Rather, the third commandment is centered on a more basic part of our relationship to God, namely, the necessity of prayer. The third commandment, just as the second commandment, finds its validity only in the first commandment: to love God with our whole heart and soul. If one is looking for an immutable and objective ethical norm, Scotus basically says that loving God with all one’s heart is the only absolute ethical norm.

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On this basis, and only on this basis, does Scotus allow for a “natural law”.

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On the second tablet, Scotus includes the seven remaining injunctions: do not lie, do not steal, do not covet, etc. In his presentation, these seven injunctions cannot be morally interpreted in the same way as the law to love God totally. In other words, the seven latter injunctions are not clearly part of natural law. Basically, the second tablet enumerates sins which are against specific injunctions of God, but these injunctions of God are relative. The differences depend on the scotistic distinction of de potentia Dei absoluta and de potentia Dei ordinata. De potentia Dei absoluta, one must love God with one’s whole heart, soul, and mind. This is an absolute requirement for any and every creature who enjoys both reason and free will. Even God cannot dispense from this commandment. De potentia Dei ordinata, however, is totally different. God has freely created human beings and freely bestowed on them contingent intellects and contingent wills. God has also given them contingent rules which are based on de potentia Dei ordinata. These rules are “ordered” (ordinata) by God’s own will once he had created a certain form of being which has a limited intelligence and a limited will, namely human beings. God had no necessity to create such a creature as a human being. Rather, God did so freely. Thus, there is nothing in a human being that is absolutely necessary. If human nature is absolutely unnecessary, then the activities of human nature are unnecessary as well. God, however, has provided guidelines (the second tablet) for such contingent, temporal, spatial, relative, and unnecessary human beings. The relativity of these De potentia Dei ordinata commandments is based on Scotus’ reading of the sacred writings of the bible. In the bible, one finds that God in certain circumstances orders killing, condones lying, orders adultery. He lists each case in which God makes an exception to the De potentia Dei ordinata commandments, and from this listing he concludes that since God has ordered these commandments and at times ordered their opposite, these seven commandments are relative not absolute. These seven commandments are per se mutable not immutable. This does not indicate that a human person is free to disobey these seven commandments whenever he or she wills to do so. Rather, Scotus, on the basis of God’s own legislation, which cannot be disregarded and on the basis of God’s infinitely free will, understands the moral value of the seven commandments as relative. God cannot change the first commandment. Only in this instance is God “necessitated.” God would not be God if God allowed creatures to disrespect and not love God. However, Scotus disallows absolute necessity (de


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potential Dei absoluta) as regards the other commandments (de potential Dei ordinata) for two reasons. The first reason is based on the clear exceptions to these seven commandments which God makes in the bible itself. The second reason is based on God’s infinitely free will. If God freely makes a law, then God is not held to the law. In a very strong sense, God does not have to obey the ten commandments, as though these commandments placed a necessity on God. Rather, it is God who is lord of the commandments themselves. It would be too far afield to enter into this discussion of the two tables and Scotus’ interpretation of the natural law. Nonetheless, it is clear that Scotus’ philosophical anthropology on the one hand and his constant honoring of divine freedom on the other, which are expressed in his distinction de potentia Dei absoluta and de potentia Dei ordinata, reflect the tenor of the Franciscan approach to sin. God’s absolute freedom is always honored, and sin needs to be considered primarily from a negating use of human free will.150 In some ways, Scotus’ approach to original sin and personal sin helps us today to understand a teaching found in the documents of Vatican II. The conciliar bishops stated that all sin has a social dimension.151 In the introduction to the renewed liturgy for the sacrament of reconciliation, the authors also indicate that sin is both personal and social. This introduction likewise states that reconciliation is both personal and social.152 Since all sin has a social dimension, we too “pass on” a social consequence by our personal sins, and this passing on of social consequence can be considered as a prolongation of original injustice. Personally, we are as guilty as Adam and Eve through our own personal sins. Because of the social evil consequences of sin, we, too, prolong a state of continuing injustice. Since sin has a social repercussion, reconciliation must also have a social repercussion. It is not enough to say: I am sorry. We must also try to ameliorate the social repercussions of our sins.

150 On potentia Dei absoluta and potential Dei ordinate, see Ingham, “John Duns Scotus: an Integrated Vistion”: 209–210; and Allan Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality, 56–57. 151 See kenan Osborne, “The New Ritual for Reconciliation,” Reconciliation and Justification (New York: Paulist Press, 1990): 200–212. 152 See Congregation of Divine Worship, Ordo paenitentiae (Vatican City: Typis polyglottis, 1974). This decree begins with the words, “Reconciliationem inter Deum et homines.” In the Praenotanda one reads: “The sin of one harms the others, just as the holiness of one benefits others” (5).

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The sin situation in the Franciscan approach can be summarized as follows. First of all, the overwhelming majority of Christian theologians have consistently described sin through negative words, such as privatio, carentia, and negatio (privation, lack, negation). This negativity of sin is basic to the Franciscan approach. Theologically, sin is constituted by something lacking in an action of the will. The action of the will itself is always positive and good. It is the undue privation or non-relationship of the will to something good which is the core of sin. The reason for this consistent negative argument regarding sin is already found in Augustine, who continually asserted that God, as the creator of everything, has created only good things. In all of creation, whatever is positive has God as its ultimate creator. To say that God creates an intrinsically sinful thing, act, or word is contrary to the goodness of God. Secondly, Franciscan theologians have placed the center of sin in the human free will. Sinfulness takes place when the human will does not will something. The source of sin is not in materiality or sexuality. The human will, though limited and contingent, remains good. The human body, though subjected to discordant desires, remains intrinsically good. The created world, though threaded with physical and zoological violence, remains intrinsically good. Sin is due to a lack or a negative aspect of human free will. Thirdly, in Christian theology one can only speak of sin when there is a willing rejection of God. If God is not part of what is negated, then, for Christian theologians, sin has no reality. Rejection of God is theologically at the Christian core of sin. Sin is not a philosophical term; rather it is a theological term. Philosophical ethics are different from theological ethics. It is in the context of our faith in God that the word sin has its meaning. If one brackets belief in God, then sin loses its central relationship, namely, its negation of a relationship to God. Fourthly, in the Franciscan theology of sin, there is a personal aspect of sin and a social aspect of sin. No sin is private; all sin has social consequences. The sin of Adam and Eve was their own personal sin. However, as in the case of all personal sin, there were social consequences to the personal sins of Adam and Eve, and it is in these social consequences that one can speak of original sin. Fifthly, the Franciscan theology of sin emphasizes again and again that we must first understand the good, before we can understand the bad. In other words, the understanding of either bad or sin is derivative


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and secondary. Bad or sin can only be understood, if we know what the good is. Knowledge of the good must precede an understanding of sin. In all of this, the Franciscan theology of sin maintains in a foundational way the absolute freedom of God. De potentia Dei absoluta, God must be loved. God loves God’s own self and God loves all creation. Human beings, as part of God’s creation, must love God in return. This commandment cannot be abridged. De potentia Dei ordinata, God remains absolutely free to determine all other forms of good and bad. Human leadership, including Church leadership, can only reflect what God has determined. Except for the commandment to love God totally, human morality is derivative from the free will of God. Claims by Christian leaders regarding natural law are to be judged only by God’s potentia Dei absoluta and potentia Dei ordinata. None of the Franciscan authors we considered totally explain why there is evil and sin. Christian theologians who have attempted to indicate why there is sin in our spacetime world have given several answers, none of which is totally convincing. Even the “story” of Adam and Eve has no single interpretation. Its historicity is rightfully questioned. Its mythological import is diversely explained. “Original sin” has never been a defined doctrine of the Catholic Church, as is evident in the Latin Church’s complete silence or non-condemnation of the Eastern Christian Churches which have never maintained a theology of original sin. One of the most helpful attempts to relate the presence of sin in our world, on the one hand, and the infinite goodness of God, on the other hand, is the following. We have been created in the image and likeness of God, as the book of Genesis states. But what precisely is this image and likeness of God in a human being? The theological material on this subject is immense, and its immensity makes an analysis of the issue, for this volume, impossible. However, in the Franciscan tradition that which makes us most similar to God, that is, our highest imaging and likenessing of God, is found in our free will. The gift of free will is precisely what allows us to mirror the divine in a profound way. The emphasis is, in this view, on the dignity of our will, and this view of the will as the main center of imaging God pervades the entire Franciscan tradition. God’s greatest gift to each one of us, our free will, allows us to be either like God, and therefore a magnificent human being, or it allows us to pervert the very meaning of human existence. God could have made us robots; God did not do so. God made us free, and even

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when we sin, God does not take away our freedom. Nor does God act in a proactive or preventive way, as one might do when babies who are just learning to walk start to fall. We may rush to help the baby, who is falling. God, however, does not rush to intervene, when we are sinning. God has given us a tremendous gift, and God honors our use and even our misuse of this gift. The consequence of this gifting of free will is the following: sin exists because we human beings want it to exist. We are the sinful culprits to blame, not God.153 None of this makes sense unless we first consider the good. Chapter five on the Trinitarian God provides the context in which any and all discussion about sin must take place. Bonum est sui diffusivum is the context in which any interpretation of sin needs to be developed.

6. The Saving Role of the Holy Spirit From the twelfth century onward, systematic theology has for the most part formulated the relationship of the sending of the Logos and the sending of the Spirit in two different ways. In both of these formats, it

153 The Catechism of the Catholic Church, (374–379) continues to offer a perfectionist view of the Garden of Eden and the life of Adam and Eve in this garden. What the Catechism presents is a theological interpretation. The Eastern Churches do not have in their tradition a theology of original sin. Original sin is a western theological position. The Roman Catholic Church has never implied that the theology of the Eastern Churches on sin which does not involve “original sin,” was heretical. In other words, the position of the Roman Catholic Church on the matter of original sin has often given mixed signals. Some theologians have implied that original sin is a “dogma of faith.” If this is correct, then the acceptance of the Orthodox Churches, which do not present a theology of “original sin,” as a “church,” implies that the Roman Church does not consider the approach of the Orthodox Churches on original sin as heretical. Sagüés, in Sacrae Theologiae Summa, v. II, 924, p. 942, tries to harmonize the western and eastern approaches by simply describing the difference as “different modes of speaking” “differre in modo loquendi” (930). The Catechism’s presentation on original sin is cautious. It mentions, however, the following. “The church has always taught that the overwhelming misery which oppresses men and their inclinations toward evil and death cannot be understood apart from their connection with Adam’s sin and the fact (sic) that he has transmitted to us a sin with which we are all born afflicted.” (403) Original sin, nonetheless, is called “sin” only in an analogical sense (404). In the very same paragraph we also read: “The transmission of original sin is a mystery that we cannot fully understand.” The words—analogy and cannot fully understand—raise the question whether or not there can be a dogma about a sin which is only analogously called sin and whose transmission we really cannot understand. When these two issues are placed alongside the third issue—namely, that the Eastern Churches do not have a theology of original sin—one only wonders how a theologian such as Sagüés can call the western view: “De fide divina et catholica definita” (924).


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is the Triune God who sends the Logos and the Spirit (missio) and it is the Triune God who determines the created manifestation of both (manifestatio). The first theological construct moves in this format: God sends the Logos into the world (the incarnation) and the incarnate Logos after the death and resurrection sends the Spirit into the community of disciples who bring this spirit into their missionary activity. The second theological constructs presents God’s actio ad extra of creation in a way in which the mission of the Logos and the mission of the Spirit are ab initio co-terminous, each missio and manifestatio having its own integrity while at the same time both have an interrelationship with each other. Let us consider both of these formats in a brief way. a. The Incarnate Logos after the Death and Resurrection Sends the Spirit The form of the interrelationship of the sendings of Logos and Spirit is based on four key passages in the New Testament: John 14, 16–17; John 16, 13–14; Matthew 28, 18–20; and Acts 2: 1–4.154 Jn: 14, 16–17: And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate (παράκλητον) to be with you always, the Spirit of truth, which the world cannot accept, because it neither sees nor knows it. But you know it, because it remains with you, and will be in you. Jn. 16, 13–14: But when he comes, the Spirit of truth, he will guide you to all truth. He will not speak on his own, but he will speak what he hears, and will declare to you the things that are coming. He will glorify me, because he will take from what is mine and declare it to you. Mt. 28, 18–20: Then Jesus approached and said to them, “All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold I am with you always, until the end of the age.” Acts 2, 1–4: When the time for Pentecost was fulfilled, they were all in one place together. And suddenly there came from the sky a noise like a strong driving wind, and it filled the entire house in which they were. Then there appeared to them tongues as of firs, which parted and came to rest on each on of the. And they were all filled with the holy Spirit and began to speak in different tongues, as the Spirit enabled them to proclaim.

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See Catechism of the Catholic Church, Article 8, “I believe in the Holy Spirit,” 687. The footnotes for this paragraph refer one to Jn. 16:13 and 14:17.

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These are four very strong and clear passages in which Jesus—together with the Father—sends the Spirit into our world. In this format, the mission and manifestation of the Spirit depends heavily on the mission and manifestation of the Logos. Let one example of this theological explanation stand for many. In article eight of the Catechism of the Catholic Church, section one is entitled: “The Joint Mission of the Son and the Spirit.” In the text which follows we read: In their joint mission, the Son and the Holy Spirit are distinct but inseparable (689). When Christ is finally glorified, he can in turn send the Spirit from his place with the Father to those who believe in him: he communicates to them his glory, that is, the Holy Spirit who glorifies him. From that time on, this joint mission will be manifested in the children adopted by the Father in the Body of his Son: the mission of the Spirit of adoption is to unite them to Christ and make them live in him (690).

In these passages we see how the mission of the Logos and the mission of the Spirit are intimately united with each other. The phrase “joint mission” is used twice and the stress on the joint mission is described as distinct but inseparable. It is the incarnate Logos who—together with the Father—sends the Spirit. In the last sentence of the second citation from the Catechism (690), the community called church (the adopted children) becomes a major player in the mission and manifestation of the Spirit. The church is the entity which will continue the same jointmission of Christ and the Spirit. The connection to ecclesiology in this theological position became extremely important from the sixteenth century onward. In chapter three I mentioned that the ecclesiologies which developed from the Reformation-Tridentine period onward were almost all apologetic in nature until the mid-decades of the twentieth century. These centuries were also centuries in which Christian missionary movements to the western hemisphere, the Pacific islands, the Asian continent, and the African continent played an enormous role of christianization and colonization. Christian missionary movements during this time period were justified on the basis that God had sent Jesus into our world. Jesus had then sent his disciples into the world to make converts. And God had given the strength of the holy Spirit to the church in order to accomplish this christianization. This mandate of God not only justified the missionary movement, but it was also used to justify the efforts of cristianization and colonization. Christianization and colonization, however, were often denominational and political.


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The first approach of the relationship between the sending of the Logos and the sending of the Spirit, as described above, was incorporated into the standard ecclesiologies of the Anglican, Protestant, and Roman Catholic worlds. In their ecclesiologies and their official church documents, it was “our church” not “their church” which had been sent by Jesus and which brought the holy Spirit to these pagan people. In other words, just as Christology shaped pneumatology, as seen in the four New Testament passages above, so, too, ecclesiology from the sixteenth century onward shaped both Christology and pneumatology at least in a strong way. Each ecclesial denomination considered its church as the “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic” church. Even more, these ecclesial denominations considered their church as the only “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic” church. The “other” churches were false or at least defective in some serious way or another “Our” denominational church, not “theirs,” truly continued the mission and manifestation of both the Logos and the holy Spirit. In this development, the missions of the Logos and the Spirit became a major element of the church’s mission, but “church” was seen in an apologetic way. The four strong statements from the New Testament bolstered the mission of each denominational church. The growth of Christianity from the sixteenth century onward was phenomenal, and the faith, devotion, and even sacrifices of many missionaries, men and women, brought about this Christian expansion. The lives of so many of these missionaries were holy lives, nourished in a special way by the Word of God (the Protestant missionaries) and by the sacraments (the Catholic missionaries). From a theological point of view, this form of relationship between the Logos and the Spirit is certainly a valid theological position. However, as a theological position it is not “defined” doctrinally. Even though the theology of this format dominated many Christian communities, mere domination does not result in a “defined doctrine.” In today’s global and multi-cultural context, it is undoubtedly the ecclesiological component which has caused the greatest problem. The statement, “Outside the church there is no salvation,” becomes “Outside of Jesus, the Spirit, and ‘our’ Church, there is no salvation.” Since the theological elaboration of the missions of the Logos and the Spirit are identified with the mission of the church, it becomes very easy to state that only in and through the mission of the church can the mission of Jesus and the Spirit be effective. In such a position, the church controls the mission of Jesus and the Spirit, whereas the mission of the Jesus and

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the Spirit should control the mission of the church. Since the church has its boundaries, the church, in this approach, sets the boundaries for the mission of the Logos and the Spirit. “Outside the church” is a boundary-setting phrase. However, there is a second theological format which was developed in its own systematic way from the twelfth century onward.155 b. God’s Sending of the Logos and the Sending of the Spirit Were Both Intimately Joined to God’s Actio Ad Extra of Creation The second theological explanation of the missions of the Logos and the Spirit does not join these two immediately to the Christian Church. Rather, they are united to creation itself. In the actio ad extra of God which is called creation, the missio and manifestatio of the Logos and the missio and manifestatio of the Spirit co-included, but each in a special way. These missions and manifestations were not “add ons” to a created world. Rather, they were an intrinsic part of the creational act of God. Freyer states the case clearly: Zur Auffassung der Schöpfungsentfaltung und Schöpfungsvollendung gehört für die franziskanische Theologie Gottes Präsenz in der Schöpfung hat etwas zu tun mit der Gegenwart Gottes in der Schöpfung, die sich immer mehr verdichtet und materialisiert. Die volle und sichtbar werdende Gegenwart Gottes in der Schöpfung wird dann also eine Form der Schöpfungsvollendung angesehen.156

Freyer then mentions that the theological presentation of this view means that in the historical development of the created world there was a deepening and a materializing (in der such verdichtenden und materialisierenden Weise der Gottespräsenz in der Schöpfung). This

155 From the twelfth century on, there was a systematic theology of the mission of the Spirit. In the writings of the New Testament, the Fathers of the Church, and the early theologians, both Eastern and Western, there were also presentations on the mission and manifestation of the holy Spirit. When we look at the non-systematic and the systematic presentations regarding the role of the holy Spirit, we find that in both of these theological time-frames, there were scholars who presented the view which tightly joined the mission of Jesus to the mission of the Spirit and there were also scholars who presented the view that the mission of the holy Spirit was more “cosmic” than that of Jesus. 156 Freyer, 137–138.


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deepening and materializing includes the presence of the Spirit and the incarnation of the Logos.157 The manifestation of the Logos’ mission resides in the human nature of Jesus. I have stressed that this manifestation is that of “thisness,” an individual Haecceitas. The manifestation of the Spirit, however, is not limited to individualized Haecceitas. Each and every aspect of creation is or at least can be a sacrament of the Spirit. In other words, all of creation is open to the presence and manifestation of the Spirit. The manifestation of the Logos in the human nature of Jesus is closely connected to Jesus himself and to the community which eventually came to be called “church.” The manifestation of the Spirit in a million different ways is closely connected to the “kingdom” of God (as one might say today). The church and the kingdom are neither synonymous nor coterminous. The kingdom is greater than the church, and the church is called on to serve the kingdom. The church and kingdom, to some degree, overlap each other. To some degree, however, they are distinct. The manifestation of the Logos is found centrally in the incarnation and in the church; the manifestation of the Spirit is found throughout the kingdom of God. The message of the kingdom and the message of the church are the same. Both the presence of the Logos and the presence of the Spirit in creation reveal to us something of the compassionate God, bonum est sui diffusivum. Both manifest to some degree the infinite freedom and love of the one God. In Bonaventure’s view of theological history, there is a goal, set by God, for creation’s history. This history includes the incarnation of the Logos in the human nature of Jesus and it also includes the manifestation of the Spirit through vestige, image, and similitude throughout the created world. This union of creation to the mission and manifestation of the Logos and to the mission and manifestation of the Spirit is evolving, in Bonaventure’s approach, to a climax which God had determined from the beginning de la nada. This fulfillment, in the Franciscan approach, is what salvation is all about. The Franciscan view of salvation is much more than a remission of sin; it is much more than a bestowal of grace; it is even much more than the incarnation and the sending of the Spirit. Both the incarnation and the sending of

157 Ibid., 138. Freyer concludes: “Ich meine diese Verbindung zwischen Schöpfungsvorgang und Inkarnation ist sogar ein franziskanisches Charkteristikum.”

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the Spirit are teleological; they are part of a movement towards a final goal. Both the church and the kingdom are teleological; they are also part of a movement towards a final goal. Creation, incarnation, sending of the Spirit, kingdom of God, and the Christian Church are not ends in themselves. They are teleological, which means that they share in a process which culminates at an “end time.” They do not point to themselves; they point to a future fulfillment. This future fulfillment is what salvation truly involves. Salvation is a “future” event. What this future event entails remains a mystery. To understand salvation we cannot look backward: that is, to the “original state” of Adam and Eve in a paradisiacal world; to an “original sin” of Adam and Eve; to the “redemptive sacrifice” of Jesus on the cross; or to the promise of the Holy Spirit. In God’s approach, salvation is not “something” which has already taken place. Rather, it is something which is progressively taking place slowly and will only be understood by us when it reaches its teleological fulfillment. This forward-looking view of salvation turns the phrase, outside the church there is no salvation, upside down and inside out. Outside the final goal of creation, which God alone intends, there is no salvation. Moreover, all of creation, not simply the Christian Church, is moving towards this final goal. The theological conclusion of this approach indicates that God is at work throughout all of creation (the kingdom of God) and God’s presence in creation through the Spirit must be appreciated as much as God’s presence in the Church through the incarnation. Freyer states his summation as follows: Eine theologische Antwort auf diese theologische Fragestellung findet sich im Schöpfungsereignis selbst. Die franziskanische Theologie hat die Schöpfung immer al das erste Buch Gottes angesehen. Diesen Gedanken möchte ich auf das Schöpfungsereignis übertragen; somit wird dies selbst zum Offenbarungs-geschehen. Das Schöpfungsereignis offenbart nun die Entwiklung und Reifung alles Geschaffenen auf die Fülle und die Vervolkommnung hin.158

158 Ibid., 350. Freyer does not make the distinctions between kingdom and church which I do, and because of this Freyer tends to place the mission and manifestation of the Spirit as flowing from the mission and manifestation of the Logos. Bonaventure’s focus on Jesus as the center of all creation tends to move in the same direction which Freyer takes. Scotus primacy of Christ vis-à-vis creation seems to do the same. However, creation for Scotus is centered most profoundly on the glory of God and not on the primacy of Jesus. Moreover, Bonaventure sees the fulfillment of everything at the end


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This second approach to the missions and manifestations of both the Logos and the Spirit and their intrinsic connection to creation is, today, helpful for a globalized, multi-religious, and multi-cultural world. It calls on us to reconsider boundaries, including the boundaries of the church and the wider boundaries of the kingdom. In this reconsideration, a theology of church cannot help but be reformulated.

7. Conclusions Chapters three, four, and five presented the foundational dimensions for a theology of church. Each of them was called a starting-point. Chapter six has not focused a starting point but rather on a context which immediately follows on the foundational material. In other words, the themes in chapter six center on the key issues through which one must journey prior to any and every discussion of church. All of these elements from chapter four to chapter six determine the meaning of church. As a subaltern theological theme, ecclesiology begins to make sense only on the basis of its foundational factors and on the basis of its immediate context. When systematic ecclesiology began to appear in the late sixteenth century, the stigma of apologetics slowly placed the “cart before the horse.” The cart is ecclesiology, and it began to shape and color what kind of a theology of God is allowable, what kind of a theology of creation is acceptable, what approach to the incarnation and the sending of the Spirit is permissible. Ecclesiology tended to make the remainder of theology subaltern to itself. This was not done with any mala fide. The post-reformation period had established a number of alternative churches, with each church claiming its own authenticity. The focus on being the only “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic” church strongly overrode many other theological issues. Fortunately, the call for a reform of ecclesiology which, as noted above in chapter one, steadily gained momentum from its nineteenth-century limited beginnings down to the strong ecumenical movements of the twentieth century. This call for renewal of ecclesiology includes a rethinking of the role of church vis-à-vis a theology of God, creation, incarnation, the sending

time in which God is glorified, and therefore this final glorification tends to contextualize his approach to Jesus as center of all.

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of the Spirit, and the problem of evil. This rethinking of ecclesiology has taken place within an environment that includes globalization, multi-culuralism, other world religions, diverse philosophical views, and the rise of science. As regards the immediate theological context of creation, the incarnation of the Logos, and the sending of the Spirit, the Franciscan Theological Tradition takes up a theme which is found in the New Testament itself, namely, that there is an internal unity to all three of these major actiones ad extra of the Trinitarian God. This theological position has been a constant part of the Franciscan tradition from its origins in Francis and Clare onward. All major Franciscan scholars have developed this three-fold unity through their philosophical and theological analyses. An additional constant in the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition is its understanding of creation. The term creation is fundamentally theological rather than philosophical since it implies a creator God. God creates de la nada, from nothing. If one does not believe in a creator God, creation de la nada means nothing. From a theological point of view, the radical dependency of every created reality on God’s free will implies that all reality is finite and contingent. God was not necessitated in any way to create. In the Franciscan approach this involves both synchronic and diachronic contingency. In the Franciscan understanding of God’s creation is beautiful but fragile. The radical contingency of all created beings together with the attributes of finitude, imperfection, and non-necessity is only one aspect of created reality which the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition emphasizes. The second aspect is the teleological quality of all creation. God’s creation is historically moving towards a fulfillment. Bougerol notes: His [Bonaventure’s] whole synthesis tends to define how the entire creation that issued from God returns to Him in the manner of an intelligible circle.159

González devotes an entire chapter on Bonaventure’s understanding of history, “La Historia como Revelación de la Trinidad.”160 His opening lines set the tone for the entire chapter.

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Bougerol, Introduction to Bonaventure, 75. González, Mysterio Trinitario y Existencia Humana, 604–625; see also Hayes, “Bonaventure: Mystery of the Triune God,” 65–69. 160


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La Edad Media no solo tenía un libro para leer el misterio de Dios trino, el de la naturaleza, sino además el de la historia; junto al speculum naturale el speculum historiale. Son dos libros simultáneamente abiertos ante sus ojos, o mejor, las dos páginas de la misma hoja (la realidad creada en su consistencia y en su despliegue) en las que se puede leer y ver reflejado el rostro de la Trinidad.161

In the Franciscan tradition, salvation is the culmination of God’s plan for historical creation. Salvation is not simply the redemption of sinful men and women through Jesus Christ. Without any doubt, men and women are redeemed from sin, but this redemptive aspect of salvation is only a part of God’s far-reaching teleological plan of salvation. Without any doubt, the incarnation is a part of God’s teleological and far-reaching plan of salvation. God’s teleological and eschatological history of all creation reaches its fulfillment (salvation) when God’s plan reaches its own culmination. Within this teleological and eschatological history of all creation, the three actiones ad extra of God have been intrinsically unified with one another at least from the very start of human history. A theology of creation, a theology of the mission and manifestation of Logos, and a theology of the mission and manifestation of the Spirit provide the created context for all human reality. Neither the sending of the Logos nor the sending of the Spirit are “add ons” to the creation of our human world. The theology of the mission and manifestation of the Logos takes place (manifestatio) in the individual Jesus (Haecceitas). Jesus, the individualized manifestatio of the Logos, provides the centering of the Christian Churches. Jesus in his Haecceitas is the Lumen gentium. Christians are followers of this same Jesus, but the Jesus-community, the church, has no light of its own. Only when the men and women in this community reflect Jesus is the community truly church. The church, then, is centralized by the mystery of Jesus in his Haecceitas as the true Lumen gentium. Because of this the church is relational and cannot be self-centered. Its center is Jesus the Lumen gentium, and the

161 González, 604. See, Josef Ratzinger, Die Geschichtstheologie des h. Bonaventura (Munich: 1959). However, there are several issues in Ratizinger’s account of history in Bonaventure which find his analysis wanting. Ratzinger, in the introduction of a second edition of the English translation of this book, mentions his critics but dismisses them in a summary way. Since the criticism of his work was made by respected scholars of Bonaventure’s writings, a summary dismissal appears to be inadequate. References can be found in González, 604, n. 1.

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Jesus center is a light which shines both inwardly and outwardly. It is a light that transcends the structures of the church. Jesus and the Church, however, are not synonymous. The incarnation and the institution of the Church are not synonymous. Jesus is far more important than the church. When Christians look inward to the core of their self-identity they are confronted by Jesus who is more important than the Church, since Jesus, Lumen gentium, deflects the light both into an on-going inward and on-going outward search for self-identity. The horizons which look beyond the boundaries of the church can be described in today’s theological language as the kingdom of God. The boundaries of the kingdom are far greater and inclusive than are the boundaries of the church. In these kingdom-boundaries, all people of any nation and any religion and any culture provide manifestiationes of the Spirit. Both Logos and Spirit, as manifestationes and as having a missiones from the Triune God, open windows on the meaning of the mystery of a relational God who has created this universe in a teleological way. Neither the Logos nor the Spirit has provided a picture-perfect view of teleological salvation. Rather, both the Logos and the Spirit have provided a message and view of the entire created world which invites human beings both to study and join. They are prompted to immerse themselves into the teleological process itself. They enter into the river of human history which God has created and which God is guiding to its final destination. Without any doubt the theology of the mission and manifestation of the Spirit places the church in a highly-restricted position, since the church has no power whatsoever to determine how, where, and when the Spirit may act. The church does not own the Spirit; rather, the Spirit owns the church. Since the Church does not have any possessive control over the Spirit, the presence of the Spirit beyond church walls and church limits is frustrating to many ecclesiastical and theological leaders of the Church. Their leadership seems to be curtailed by the actions and presence of the Spirit which lie beyond their jurisdiction. The Spirit is free to do whatever the Spirit wishes. Theological and ecclesiastical regulations do not and cannot confine the freedom of the holy Spirit. In contemporary theology, the reality of globalization, multi-culturalism, and the interreligious dialogues has made the issue of the Spirit’s presence in the world a major issue. The discussions today on the relationship of kingdom to church have engendered serious challenges to the standard ecclesiologies of all Christian Churches. A spirit-christology


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has also raised a division of acceptance and non-acceptance. Much more open and uninhibited discussion of kingdom :: church needs to take place. A similar uninhibited theological discussion on the role of the holy Spirit throughout the universe needs to take place. In the twenty-first century, the efforts at systematic theology are stretched beyond anything which the patristic, medieval, and scholastic theologians even imagined. The theological endeavors of the Reformation and the Catholic Counter-Reformation are likewise stretched beyond anything which the theologians of these churches ever imagined. The multi-cultural and multi-religious dimensions of today’s globalized world have restructured all efforts to formulate a systematic ecclesiology. In the first decade of this millennium, we Christians find ourselves only at a threshold of this new formulation of a systematic ecclesiology. Church leadership, whether Anglican, Protestant, Orthodox, or Roman Catholic, is also faced with different coordinates for their ecclesiologies than those which previously centered their own standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiologies. The validity of multi-culturalism is a major issue today. The validity of multi-religions is a major issue today. A claim of superiority today only divides Christian efforts further from other cultures and other religions. But the claim of superiority that arises from the multi-cultural and multi-religious world also presents questions to the Christian Churches themselves. It also raises the question, as we have seen above, on the very meaning of salvation. A theology of church does need reconsideration, but such reconsideration also requires a reconsideration of the theologies of creation, incarnation, and the sending of the Spirit. This chapter has raised key issues regarding creation, incarnation, and the sending of the Spirit, and the rethinking of these issues will affect the ways in which a relational theology of church can be structured.162

162 See Kenan Osborne, “Today’s Task for an Asian Theologian,” Quest: an Interdisciplinary Journal for Asia Christian Scholars, v. 5 (2007) n. 2, 89–106.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A RELATIONAL THEOLOGY OF THE CHURCH FOR THE THIRD MILLENNIUM

The thematic issues that have been mentioned and analyzed in the first six chapters of this volume play a major role in contextualizing ecclesiology. They do so because ecclesiology is subaltern to many other theological issues which are far more fundamental and far more profound than a theology of church. Chapter seven, therefore, is understandable only in and through this preliminary, fundamental, and contextual material. Two specific goals dominate chapter seven. The first goal is the presentation and clarification of the phrase: a relational theology of the church for the third millennium.

A Relational Theology of the Church for the Third Millennium In chapter one, I presented a lengthy and detailed listing of the instances in which a call for a renewed theology of the church. Throughout this volume, I have maintained that a renewal of ecclesiology for the third millennium can be best attained in and through a relational theology of church. Most western forms of ecclesiology have tended to be essentialistic. This essentialistic form of a theology of the church became even stronger from the Reformation down to the middle of the twentieth century. The apologetic framework of systematic ecclesiologies tended to establish one form of ecclesiology as certain and all other forms of ecclesiologies were considered unacceptable. The “our church” was essentialized. In the Roman Catholic Church, scholastic issues, based on Aristotle, became essential aspects of post-Reformation Catholic ecclesiology. It is well known that medieval scholastic theology was profoundly influenced by Aristotelian philosophical thought patterns, but the Aristotelianism of the scholastic period was a modified Aristotelianism. Pierre Pellegrin notes how frequently Aristotle’s philosophy has been “re-read.”

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chapter seven The Aristotelian corpus now in our libraries thus offers a deceptively systematic form, which does not mean that Aristotle did not intend to construct such a system. The systematic order imposed from the outside on Aristotle’s texts is partly cancelled out by one of the fundamental characteristics of Aristotelian learning: the relative autonomy, theoretical and methodical, of the various ‘branches’ of Aristotelian speculation. But when this autonomy is recognized for what it is, it gives us a remarkable freedom—that of beginning the exposition of Aristotelianism at any point at all.1

The scholastic acceptance of Aristotle also changed Aristotle. The medievalists, by and large, presented Aristotle with an essentialist approach, emphasizing necessary aspects of substance and existent reality. Pellegrin notes this when he speaks of ousia, ti en einai, and ti estin and the ways in which the medieval scholars interpreted these terms.2 In today’s cosmopolitan episteme, a paradigmatic change is taking place, and it centers on the change from a substantive, essentialist, and necessary episteme of being to a relational episteme. Thus, the development of a credible and renewed ecclesiology needs to take into account the relational episteme which is prevalent throughout the human population today. A theology of church based—perhaps through a misreading of Aristotle—on an essentialist and substantive philosophy cannot be evaluated as meeting the goals of the contemporary call for ecclesiological renewal.

Specific Themes from the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition Energize a Relational Ecclesiology The second goal for this chapter is to indicate in a clear way how specific themes from the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition can energize a relational ecclesiology. Since the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition has its roots in the spiritual vision of Francis and Clare of Assisi, and since it was philosophically and theologically first articulated in the writings of Anthony of Padua, Alexander of Hales, Bonaventure, Peter John Olivi, and John Duns Scotus, there is an immediate question: how can one move from a

1 2

Pierre Pellegrin, op. cit., 37. Ibid., 49.

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medieval viewpoint to a third-millennium viewpoint? Freyer’s remarks are of major importance for this immediate question. Dieser unbedenklichen und teilwiese Übertragung des franziskanischen Gedankengutes, das ja aus dem Mittelalter kommt, ist m.E. durchaus kritisch zu begegnen. Die franziskanischen Werte, die auf einem bestimmten Welt-, Menschen- und Gottesbild aufbauen, sind nicht so ohne weiteres in unsere Zeit zu übertragen.3

Freyer names some of the major problematic issues which divide contemporary thought from medieval thought. He cites “das Problem Freud und seine These von der Krankenheit der Religiosität des Menschen, der sich selbst als compensatorische Notwendigkeit ein Bild von Gott erschafft.”4 He also cites “die Philosophie eines Nietzche und die Leugnung der Gottesexistenz im Nihilismus.”5 To these two critiques, he adds the questions raised by Dorothea Sölle for the “God-is-deadtheology” which was popular in the late twentieth century. He also takes into account that belief in God has been seriously called into question by contemporary atheism, a position to which the Vatican II pastoral constitution, Gaudium et Spes, gave serious attention (20–21). The bishops at Vatican II acknowledged that the problems raised by atheism are important and deserve an earnest and more thorough scrutiny. The bishops also invited theists and atheists to enter into a courteous dialogue with one another. Finally, Freyer faces the issue of evolution and its relationship to Franciscan thought: Ebenso scheint die franziskanische Anthropologie mit ihrer Postulierung des Menschen als Haupt und Ziel der Schöpfung an der heutigen Sicht des Menschen im Evolutionsprozess zu scheitern.6

Quantum mechanics, which is no longer simply a Quantum theory, together with the age of the universe raises enormous barriers to any simplified translation of medieval world views into the third millennium. My use of Franciscan material, therefore, cannot be simply a transference of medieval philosophy and theology to contemporary times. Rather, I utilize certain insights of the Franciscan founders and

3

Freyer, op. cit., 318. Ibid., 319–320. 5 Ibid., 320. 6 Ibid., 320. Freyer cites some key books on this issue: E. Schokenhoff, Ethik des Lebens: Ein theologischer Grundriss (Mainz: Grünewald, 1998); K. Schmitz Moormann, Materie-Leben-Geist. Evolution als Schöfung Gottes (Mainz: Grünewald, 1997). 4

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theologians in ways that people such as Francis, Clare, Bonaventure, and Scotus did not even consider. In this effort, I am following the path of such scholars as Oliver Boulnois, Antonie Vos, Luc Mathieu, Gustav Bergman, W. Park, Simo Knuuttila, L. Alanen, and Calvin Normore. The focus of these scholars differs from that of many other scholars who have produced excellent books and monographs, which have analyzed the thought of Francis, Clare, Bonaventure, Scotus, etc. For these men and women, a clear analysis of the Franciscan writers within the medieval context was the goal. For my part, I am using insights of these medievalists and showing how some of their analyses, with modification, can be of tremendous value for a renewal of ecclesiology today. In doing this, I realize that I am stretching the positions of the early Franciscan authors into dimensions which, when woven into contemporary thought, take on new implications and conclusions. This rethinking and revamping of Franciscan insights within a contemporary episteme and within a contemporary paradigmatic change dovetails into the basic goal of this volume. The chapter is divided as follows: 1. The theology of God shapes and colors ecclesiology in a primary and fundamental way. 2. A theology of church is related to the kingdom of God. 3. Institutional and charismatic church leadership. 4. Concluding Observations.

1. The Theology of God Shapes and Colors Ecclesiology in a Primary and Fundamental Way In Christian theology, there are no demonstrations quia of the existence of God; rather there are only demonstrations propter quid of God’s existence. In other words, Christian theology acknowledges a fundamental limitation on the way in which a human person gains a knowledge of God’s existence. Since the existence of God cannot be proven with any logical rigor, and since belief in God depends on God’s free gift of grace, an apologetic approach cannot claim any absolute conclusiveness. Consequently, in this section of chapter seven, I presuppose that my readership is open to a belief in God.


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a. Christian People, and therefore “Church” People, Are Related Intrinsically to a Relational God The fundamental challenge for an ecclesiology today is the following: does the church to which I belong reflect a God who is or at least might be credible? This is a very personal question since it really is asking the individual himself or herself whether or not his church or her church reflects a credible God? For too many Christians today, their belief in God who is forgiving and inclusive is challenged by a church which is not forgiving and inclusive. This dilemma is present for many women who find that the church to which they give credence does not include women in a way which reflects the inclusiveness of God for women. This dilemma is also present for those who belong to cultures other than the dominant culture of a given political structure. Is the church to which they belong inclusive of people of their own culture? God includes people of their culture in a generous way, but their specific church seems to treat people of their culture in a secondary way. Other examples could be enumerated. The split between one’s belief in God and one’s belief in church is challenged, since the God a person believes in seems to be compromised by the God which his or her respective church proclaims. One’s theology of God shapes and colors ecclesiology in a primary and fundamental way. In the Franciscan understanding of God, as we have seen in chapter four, is a relational God. In the Franciscan approach, the main focus is not on a God who is a Supreme Being and a First Cause. We have seen that in Francis of Assisi God cannot be understood directly; for Francis God can only be perceived in creation. God is related to creation, and thus Francis meditated on Brother Sun and Sister Moon, and in this meditation he came to know something of God’s love and care. Bonaventure clearly presented a relational God. Although God is, in Bonaventure’s theology, simplicitas, this includes God as communicabilis et potens esse in pluribus. For Bonaventure, God is primitas, but this includes formalis plenitudo. God is perfectio, but this means that God’s perfectio is apta et prompta. God is beatitudo et caritas, and both of these qualities come from the voluntas of God. Love is relational, and the will is relational. Bonaventure’s description of a relational God raises the question: is the church communicabilis et potens esse in pluribus, and formalis plenitudo? Is the church apta et prompta? Is the nature of the church beatitudo et caritas? God is essentially bonum sui diffusivum, Is the

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church bonum sui diffusivum? John Duns Scotus centered his theology of God not only on Ens Supremum and Prima Causa, but even more on God as caritas, amor, and libertas infinita.7 Does one’s church reflect God’s amor, and libertas infinita? As I mentioned above, all of these terms and phrases describing the very nature of God betoken relationality, and these terms do so in a way that even Ens supremum must be seen as relational. This view of God shapes and colors everything else in Franciscan theology. If the church is, as Lumen gentium states, a lunar church whose very essence is to reflect the light of Jesus, and if Jesus in his humanity is the foundational sacrament which reflects the Light of the Triune God, then every reflection of God must reflect a relational, loving, inclusive, and forgiving God. Jesus in his life, works, and death reflected a God who is bonum sui diffusivum. A relational theology of the church, which is shaped and colored by one’s theology of God, must be a church which is also bonum sui diffusivum. The inspiration for this infinitely dynamic, active, and relational God came from the spiritual vision of Francis and Clare. Without their appreciation of God as relational, the Franciscan movement would never have become so incredibly popular in such a short time.8 Many people became followers of Francis and Clare because Francis and Clare’s understanding of God was captivating and their appreciation of the gospel as bonum sui diffusivum was inspiring. The Franciscan approach to God shaped and colored both the spirituality and the theology of this new movement. The understanding of God as found in Francis and Clare, in Bonaventure and Scotus, and in all the other major voices of the Franciscan experience in the thirteenth century shaped and colored all that God is, both in God’s own self, namely the actiones ad intra, and all that God creates beyond the divine life, namely the actiones ad extra. Francis was so overwhelmed by the greatness of God that he became speechless when he tried to think of the actiones ad intra of God. The activity of God in God’s own life was a mystery of love and beauty 7 Scotus developed his metaphysical understanding of God in all of his commentaries on the Sentences, but its final form is found in the Tractatus de Primo Principio. Wolter in Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality offers a lengthy analysis of Scotus’ understanding of God: 5–29. 8 From its early beginnings of a few friars and a few followers of Clare, the Franciscan movement numbered 30,000 by the beginning of the 1400s. Rarely in history has there been such a dynamic growth for a religious community.


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which overwhelmed him. In the opening verses of The Canticle of the Creatures he wrote: Most high, all powerful, good Lord Yours are the praise, the glory, and the honor and all blessing. To you alone, Most High, do they belong, and no human is worthy to mention your name.

For Francis and for Clare no human person has any immediate knowledge of God’s inner life, the actiones ad intra. In the same Canticle, Francis writes “no human is worthy to mention your name” and the unworthiness even to mention God’s name included the human Francis and the human Clare. For both of these founders, no human beings had any direct access to knowledge of God. God is basically ineffable. Perhaps one of the major issues which contemporary atheism raises on the question of God is this: God-believing people claim to know too much about God. They write too much about God. They may say that God is ineffable, but in their discussions on God, God become highly “effable.” Francis stood before a God who was ineffable mystery. For both Francis and Clare, human beings have only one way in which they can attain even a slight knowledge of God, namely through the contemplation of the actiones ad extra of God. In the Canticle, therefore, Francis immediately turned to Brother Sun and Sister Moon, Brother Fire and our Sister Mother Earth. If a Franciscan wants to know something about God, he or she must first read the book of creation. In the divine actiones ad extra, both Franciscan spirituality and Franciscan theology focus on three created realities. These three realities are center stage. These divine actiones ad extra are, in the Franciscan mind, intimately united: namely, creation itself, the incarnation of the Logos in the human reality of Jesus, and the mission and manifestation of the Spirit in any and all of created realities. As Christians they believed that the universe came from a loving God. They also realized that neither Jesus nor the Spirit were after-thoughts or add-ons to God’s gift of creation. Creation-Jesus-Spirit—these three realities were somehow united and this unity was manifest in the world from its beginning. The Franciscan theology of God shaped and colored their appreciation of all three actiones ad extra, for all three realities are gifts from God. What does this imply? Philosophically—and here I am using the phraseology of Scotus—all three of these actiones ad extra of God are totally contingent and not-necessary. All three of these gifts are finite and limited, temporal and spatial. Everything in the universe is a freely

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given and an unnecessitated gift coming from God’s love, from God’s diffusive goodness, and from God’s infinitely free generosity. Although the universe is awesome in its magnitude, power, and generativity, it is completely contingent. God could at any moment simply return it to its origin de la nada. When we consider the universe from the lens of quantum mechanics and place wave-length chaology alongside God’s own power, what seems awesome in the quantum world becomes impotent, and what seems inevitable in the quantum vision becomes contingently unnecessary. Ernest Rutherford (1871–1937) during the first decade of the twentieth century showed that the crust of the earth had to be billions of years old. He did this by measuring the amount of helium trapped inside rock samples, in which tiny amounts of uranium ore had been emitting alpha particles ever since the rocks had been formed. His findings were astounding, and they have changed the contemporary world view. Such simple yet irrefutable proof one hundred years ago that our planet had to be more than a billion years old is something which those who subscribe to the notion of creationism are unable to challenge with any credibility.9

The relationality of quantum mechanics together with the unthinkable age of the cosmos is indeed the elephant in today’s parlor. One might simply acknowledge that all reality is interrelated. For a Franciscan, who accepts a creator God, the cosmos is not simply an interrelated mechanism. A Franciscan sees the world through familial lenses. Our relationship to the world is due to a father-mother God. Consequently, there is a more personal relationship to our created brothers and sisters. Our Sister Mother Earth is even today a “young” old mother, and her age leaves us in awe. Francis once wrote: “Praised be You, my Lord, through our Sister Mother Earth, who sustains and governs us and who produces various fruit with colored flowers and herbs.” In his mind Sister Mother Earth was still youthful. Today, we contemplate a youthful Sister Mother Earth who has lived billions of years. In this Sister Mother Earth we catch a glimpse of a God who is an even older and more powerful mother. I do not want to use the terms brother and sister in some sort of mystic way. Freyer, once again, offers a very sobering comment:

9

Al Khalali, op. cit., 160–161.


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Aber eine sentimentale Darstellung dieser Geschwisterlichkeit angesichts der Dimensionen unserer heutigen ökologischen Krise wirkt eher lächerlich als hilfreich.10

By the terms brother and sister I simply want to highlight the fact that we are dependent not only on each other as human beings, but also on the structures in the world around us. We are profoundly dependent on the quantum theory of light. Millions of neutrinos from outer space pass through every square centimeter of our skin each second of our life and carry on straight through our bodies without touching us.11 The intimacy of all nature can only be called relational. To speak of it as brotherly or sisterly indicates a deeper personal appreciation of relationality. The relationality of our world is not mechanical; rather it is life-giving. From the Franciscan standpoint, this life-giving relationality is a reflection of the life-giving power of a loving and free God. The ineffability of God is emphasized by the power of neutrinos as well as by the power of black holes, for in the Christian view God is the giver of neutrinos and black holes. Today, we cannot speak of a “plan of God” which takes into account the age of the universe and the complexity of a quantum world. What we can discern is a small part of this plan which focuses on human life, and the world in which the human person lives.12 In human life, we have both a Jesus and a holy Spirit. Intimately connected to the universe in which we live is the incarnation of the Logos in the human reality of Jesus. This actio ad extra of God is a freely given and an unnecessitated gift of God’s infinite love. The Logos, of course, is divine and therefore not contingent. However, that the Logos was sent by God and that the Logos was made manifest in the human reality of Jesus are contingent and unnecessary actiones ad extra of God. If one argues that both the missio and the manifestatio of the Logos are necessary, the argument is based philosophically on Aristotle’s philosophy: “Now that which is must needs be when it is, and that which is not must need not be when it is not.”13 This is a philosophical principle which Thomas Aquinas

10

Freier, 321. Al-Kahili, 174. 12 I do not deny that there might be a plan of God for the billion-year old cosmos. What I question is this: do we have any inkling at all what that plan of God might be? My judgement on this issue is negative. However, we do have some inkling of God’s plan for human life, and these we Christians can talk about. 13 Aristotle, On Interpretation, 9, 23. 11

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accepted and Scotus rejected. Because the theology of Thomas became so dominant in the Roman Catholic Church in the centuries after Trent, this Aristotelian axiom came to be seen as something “theological” but in actuality it is only philosophical. On the other hand, Scotus’ reasons for synchronic and diachronic contingency were based on his theological position that no creature of any kind can necessitate the infinite freedom of God. Theologically, the incarnation is totally dependent on God’s diffusive goodness, and infinitely free generosity. Since God had no need to send the Logos into the created reality of the human Jesus, God did so voluntarily and out of unending love. Scotus writes: Tertio vult se diligi ab alio, qui potest eum summe diligere, loquendo de amore alicujus extrinseci; et quarto praevidit unionen illius naturae, quae debet eum summe diligere, etsi nullus cecidisset.14

In these words, the basic reason for the incarnation can be stated as follows: God willed to be loved by another in a most perfect way and the “other” means someone outside of God. The incarnation took place because God wanted to be loved by someone outside of God. This person outside of God is not the Logos but the human reality of Jesus who is united to the Logos. Once again, as we see in this citation from Scotus, one’s theology of God shapes and colors all other subaltern aspects of theology. The theology of incarnation (Christology) has its significance neither in itself nor in its value to men and women. Rather, the Franciscan theology of incarnation finds the significance of Christology in its giving glory to God. That we humans are blessed by the incarnation is secondary. That God is blessed by the incarnation is primary. The same philosophical-theological analysis applies to the missio and manifestatio of the Spirit. The Spirit of course is God and therefore not contingent, but the missio of the Spirit and the manifestatio of the Spirit are contingent and unnecessary. Philosophically, Franciscans reject Aristotle’ position that when a thing exists it necessarily exists as long as it exists. The rejection of this axiom implies no rejection of an “immutable truth.” The position is totally philosophical, and no philosophy in itself is immutable. Theologically, the reason why Franciscans reject the view

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Scotus, Reportatio, L. III, d. 7, q. 4, § 5.


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of Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas rests on theology: an infinite God cannot be necessitated by any created being or situation. As I mentioned above, in the Franciscan approach these three issues: creation itself, the missio and manifestatio of the Logos in the human person of Jesus, and the missio and manifestatio of the Spirit in whatever the Spirit wishes to be manifest are intimately united for their meaning and their value. In other words, creation itself included the missio and the manifestatio of the Logos in the human reality of Jesus, and it also included the missio and the manifestatio of the Spirit in whatever the Spirit wishes to be manifest. This tri-partite inclusivity has major ramifications for the subaltern theology of church. Neither the missio nor the manifestatio of the Logos were “caused” by some later human situation such as sin. Rather, in both instances it was in Scotus’ words: “Tertio vult se diligi ab alio, qui potest eum summe diligere, loquendo de amore alicujus extrinseci.” For Scotus and for Bonaventure, whenever the Spirit is manifest in a creature, God is loved by another. A Franciscan does not love God when he or she observes “Brother Sun.” Rather, a Franciscan sees that God is being praised by Brother Sun. At times, we may use creatures to love God, but Brother Sun and Sister Moon praise God in themselves. All of the above has vital meaning for ecclesiology. From the Franciscan perspective, the church is significant only through its relationship to a loving, diffusively good, and infinitely free God. On the basis of this primal and foundational relationship, the church has significance though its relationship to the reality of creation. Each human person is shaped by his or her relationship to mother, father, brother, sister, grandmother, grandfather, etc. The church is shaped by its Sister Mother Earth and by its Brother Jesus. Take away familial relationships and one’s self-identity is compromised. Take away the gift of creation and the gift of incarnation, and the self-identity of the church is compromised. Similar to the human situation the church is a relational reality. Too often in ecclesiastical circles, the church is presented as its own independent reality, with the “world” out there, even as an opponent of the church. The presence of God is not held to the boundaries of the church. The world is part of salvation history; creation is a book which is not focused on the church but on God. The missio and manifestatio of the Spirit takes place beyond the boundaries of the church, for the Spirit is free to manifest its mission in and through any part of creation. As I noted in a previous chapter,

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one cannot speak of the “Spirit of the Church,” if the word “of ” means that the church possesses the Spirit. Rather, the church is possessed by the Spirit which should be expressed in this way: the Church of the Spirit. Because the Spirit is not limited by the church, Francis can speak of Brother Sun and Sister Moon. The Sun and the Moon are not “Christians,” nor are they Catholic or Lutheran or Anglican. They are creatures of God and have no denomination beyond that. As we shall see, in the Franciscan approach this familial relationship applies to all human beings, for everyone is a brother or sister to one another. This brotherhood and sisterhood is not simply based on God’s creation of a human being. The non-Christian is my brother or my sister not merely as another “human,” but the familial relationship takes into account the entire reality of another human person. As a Franciscan I do not see him or her as my brother and sister only in his or her created being. In the past this has been the standard approach of most Christian Churches. In the Christian past, human beings qua human could indeed by seen as brothers and sisters, but when they are perceived qua Muslim, a Jew, a Daoist, or a Buddhist, they were no longer brothers and sisters, for through these religious aspects they became “works of the devil,” and the persons themselves became “pagan,” and “heretical”. A Franciscan appreciates the whole person, including the religious depth of his or her brother and sister—no matter which religion it might be—and all of this is due to their creation by our one Father God and by the missio and manifestatio of the Spirit who is manifest in these brothers and sisters and who are sanctified by the holy presence of the Spirit in their religions. For the third millennium Christian, the holiness of other religions is an extremely tense issue, especially if “salvation” is enjoined to such holiness. By now, I hope, the reader understands that a Franciscan theology of a relational God truly shapes and colors all other aspects of one’s theology, and it does so in radical way. b. Christian People, and therefore “Church” People, Are Related Intrinsically to Jesus A subaltern ecclesiology is highly dependent on the church’s relationship to christology. Such a relationship has been emphasized again and again throughout the centuries, for the church bears a title which denotes


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its basic reality, namely, the church is a Christian Church. Without Jesus there would be no church at all. Without Jesus there would be no Christian understanding of God. Of it self, the church has no value at all. Only because it is a Christian Church, does it have a sense of dignity and worth. The fundamental relationship of the church’s very nature is its relationship to Jesus and through Jesus to God. A renewed theology of church must begin with these two fundamental relationships: namely, a relationship to the human Jesus and a relationship to the presence of God in the human Jesus. Like the moon, the lunar church has no light of its own. Its entire value lies in its reflection of the solar Jesus and the solar God. The lunar church was stressed in the opening chapter of the dogmatic constitution on the Church, Lumen gentium. The lunar church also centers the opening section on the church as found in the Catechism of the Catholic Church (748). Can we say that this relational criterion is the vibrant center of ecclesiology today? At times the answer is yes, but at other times the answer is no. Since the ecumenical movement began in the early decades of the twentieth century and since Vatican II became a second major stimulus for ecclesiology, what criteria do the various Christian Churches employ to validate their claim to be church? Do these ecclesiologies center on the gifts of God in creation and in the incarnation? Naturally, both God and Jesus play major roles in every relevant ecclesiology, but can one say that both spiritually and theologically a church’s relationship to God and Jesus is the criterion through which one Christian Church compares itself to a different Christian Church? James D. G. Dunn, in his volume Unity and Diversity in the New Testament, speaks of “the canon within the canon.”15 Whatever the theory of canonicity, the reality is that all Christians have operated with a canon within the canon. Anyone who uses his NT a great deal will at once acknowledge that some pages are more grubby with finger marks than others. . . . All Christians no doubt operate on the principle of interpreting the unclear passages by means of the clear; but, of course, a passage which gives a clear meaning to one [New Testament passage] is precisely the unclear passage for another, and vice versa.16

15 James D. G. Dunn, Unity and Diversity in the New Testament (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1977; reprinted Philadelphia: Trinity Press International, 1990; London, SCM, 2006). 16 Dunn, 43–44.

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He goes on to say that until recently the effective New Testament canon for Roman Catholic ecclesiology has been Mt. 16:17–19, and the three pastoral epistles, I and II Timothy and Titus. The major criterion for the Roman Catholic Church has primarily been focused on apostolic succession. For Protestant ecclesiology, Dunn notes, the canon within the canon has been the letters of Paul, particularly his approach to justification by faith. For Eastern Orthodoxy and western mysticism, the canon within the canon has been the Johannine writings. He also states that Pentecostalism finds its canon of authenticity within the canon in the Acts of the Apostles. Dunn emphasized that the early followers of Jesus, as is evidenced in the New Testament itself, has enshrined a diversity of views vis-à-vis Jesus. To recognize the reality that each group [of Jesus’ followers in the New Testament] does in fact operate with a canon within the canon should not cause embarrassment or shame; it simply means accepting that Christians [today] are no different in their diversity from their fellow believers of the first century.17

In the New Testament, we find the followers of Jesus struggling to understand who Jesus truly is. In their efforts, some communities moved with different emphases. Let us review briefly the steps which Jesus took to form a community and how scholarship today has envisioned this passage. Jesus began his public ministry and slowly gathered a few followers. He formed these followers into a small community distinct to some degree from other Jewish communities of that time. In Second Temple Judaism there was not one “Judaism”; rather, there were several Judaisms.18 The followers of Jesus, at first, were seen as another one of these “Judaisms.” After the destruction of the Jerusalem temple, the term, εκκλησία, only gradually became a term through which the Jesus Community became known as “church.” As one moves to the end of the first century and especially into the opening decades of the second century, this Christian Church was gradually recognized as a new religion distinct from the

17

Ibid., 375. See Jacob Neusner, “Varieties of Judaism in the Formative Age: From the Bible through the Middle Ages,” Jewish Spirituality (New York: Crossroad, 1987), ed. Arthur Green: 171–197. 18


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Judaism which had remained and developed after the destruction of the temple. Such is the overall view of these developmental events. Let us consider some important details of this historical process. From 1900 to the present, there has been a phenomenal growth in scholarly studies on the earliest Jesus communities and on Second Temple Judaism. The earliest followers of Jesus included those followers who were with Jesus prior to his death as well as those followers who gathered together in the decades just after his death. All of these earliest followers of Jesus were Jewish in their religious and cultural selfidentity. In other words, the early followers of Jesus did not consider themselves “Christians” in our understanding of the term Christian. Their religious self-identity was Jewish, and more specifically Jewish in the sense of Second Temple Judaism. Just as John the Baptist had his followers and the Pharisees had their followers, so, too, Jesus during his lifetime had his own followers. The followers of all three groups were for the most part people whose religion was Judaism. John the Baptist, the Pharisees, and Jesus were not trying to establish a new religion; they were attempting through their followers to rekindle the depths of Jewish spirituality. Naturally, this position raises serious questions regarding the exact time when “Jesus instituted the church.” If his efforts were centered on reviving a deeper Jewish spirituality, then an institution of the church by Jesus did not take place during his life time. It was the person of Jesus himself which centered both internally and externally the self-identity of the early followers of Jesus both as individuals and as a community. The earliest followers of Jesus experienced themselves in a relational way, and Jesus centered this relationship. Jesus, however, was not the most profound center of their interrelationship. The earliest followers of Jesus, in and through their relationship with Jesus, deepened their relationship to Yahweh and to their Jewish faith. Much has been written today on the Jewishness of Jesus, and this literature has provided us with a more accurate understanding of Jesus’ life in Palestine and with a more accurate view of the way in which his followers reacted to his message. The emphasis on the Jewishness of Jesus has affected the ways in which the traditional statement, Jesus instituted the church, can be interpreted. Today’s renewal of ecclesiology, therefore, needs to take into account the key points of this Jewishness of Jesus research.

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The literature on the Jewishness of Jesus continues to grow. We are indebted in a special way to James Charlesworth, Jesus Within Judaism, E. P. Sanders, Jesus and Judaism, Nicholas Thomas Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God, G. Vermes, The Religion of Jesus the Jew, John Meier, A Marginal Jew, and Jacob Neusner, A Rabbi Talks with Jesus: An Intermillennial, Interfaith Exchange.19 Other authors and volumes could be added to this list. Contemporary scholars, however, are not unified in the terminology these authors use to describe the earliest followers of Jesus. The firstcentury followers of Jesus have been categorized in different ways. 1. The First Followers of Jesus Formed a Jewish Sect In contemporary biblical studies, B. Wilson, A. J. Saldarini, and R. Scroggs have urged this view and it has enjoyed a certain popularity.20 The followers of Jesus, both during Jesus’ lifetime and after his death and resurrection are described, in this view, as a sect similar to the Essenes, the Pharisees, and the Sadducees. Although sect in a general interpretation has its usefulness for the Jesus followers, it also has a problematic side, since the use of the term sect in the writings of Max Webber tends to interpret the meaning of “sect” when the authors mentioned above apply it to the followers of Jesus. In other words, some biblical scholars have challenged this use of the term “sect,” since it seems to be an anachronistic reading-back into the time of Jesus a twentieth-century sociological consideration.21

19 See James Charlesworth, Jesus Within Judaism (New York: Doubleday, 1988); James Charlesworth, ed., Jesus’ Jewishness (New York: Crossroad, 1991); Ed Parish Sanders, Jesus and Judaism (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1985); Nicholas Thomas Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1996); Geza Vermes, Jesus the Jew (New York: Macmillan, 1973); John Meier, A Marginal Jew, volume II, (New York: Doubleday, 1991); D. Flusser, Bemerkungen eines Juden zur Christlichen Theologie (Munich: Publisher 1984). 20 Brian R. Wilson, The Social Dimension of Sectarianism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1990); Anthony J. Saldarini, Pharisees, Scribes, and Sadducees in Palestinian Society: A Sociological Approach (Wilmington, Delaware: Michael Glazier, 1984); and Robin Scroggs, “The Earliest Christian Communities as Sectarian Movements,” Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity (Leiden: Brill, 1975), ed. Jacob Neusner, v. 2: 1–23. 21 Scroggs, “The Earliest Christian Communities as Sectarian Movements.”


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2. The First Followers of Jesus Were a Millenarian Movement J. G. Gager is one of the major authors who presented Jesus and his followers as a millenarian movement.22 The Roman occupation of Palestine in 64–63 bc began with a reorganization of the entire area. This brought some respite from war and a brief period of better living. In 53 bc, M. Licinius Crassus robbed the treasury of the Jerusalem Temple, and a series of revolts took place. Revolts continued down to the time of the Herodians, who took over Jerusalem itself in 6 ad. The occupation of the temple created a storm of minor revolts. Such an occupation formed a natural seed-bed for a millenarian hope. Millenarian groups are usually short-lived and eventually are transformed into different groups. In this sense, the Jesus movement which has persisted does not fit into Gager’s description. Several biblical scholars in the 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s wrote convincing studies which disallowed Jesus to be considered as a political revolutionary.23 At the beginning of the third millennium, the view of Jesus as the leader of a millenarian movement is not strongly held. Nonetheless, there is some sort of eschatological dimension to the preaching of Jesus, and this dimension cannot be set to one side in any facile way.24 3. The First Followers of Jesus Formed a Charismatic Religious Movement The thought of Max Weber is noticeable in this third classification of the followers of Jesus as a charismatic movement. G. Theissen, B. Holmberg, and M. N. Ebertz are some of the authors who have advocated this direction.25 From the New Testament writings themselves, Jesus can certainly be described as a charismatic figure and his charism continued to be central for his followers even after Jesus’ death and resurrection.

22 J. Gager, Kingdom and Community: The Social World of Early Christianity (Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: Prentice Hall, 1975). 23 Alan Segal, “Jesus the Revolutionary,” Jesus’ Jewishness: 199–225; Michael Hengel, War Jesus Revolutionär? (Stuttgart: Calwer Verlag, 1970). 24 Wright, 339–343; Meier, A Marginal Jew, v. 2, 336–348. 25 Gerd Theissen, Soziologie der Jesusbewegung: Ein Beitrag zur Entstehungsgeschichte des Urchristentums (Munich: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1978); Bengt Holmberg, Paul and Power: The Structure of Authority in the Primitive Church as Reflected in the Pauline Epistles (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1978); and Michael N. Ebertz, Das Charisma des Gekreuzigten: Zur Sociologie der Jesusbewegung (Tübingen: J. C. B. Mohr, 1971).

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In 1995, Ekkehard W. Stegemann and Wolfgang Stegemann published their volume, Urchistliche Sozialgeschichte: Die Anfänge im Judentum und die Christusgemeinden in der mediterranen Welt.26 These two scholars interpreted the Jesus movement as a charismatic movement in which Jesus was a miracle worker. The miracles of Jesus constituted the validation of both his charismatic teaching and his prophetic leadership. The Stegemanns in a special way highlighted the theme of the Kingdom of God, which Jesus made central to his teaching. The ancient Near-Eastern myth of a kingdom of God had been taken over by the Israelites from the Canaanites. The Canaanites, for their part, had received the idea of a kingdom of God from various earlier kingdoms of the Euphrates, Tigris, and Nile rivers. The Jewish people simply reinterpreted the Canaanite kingdom of God in and through their understanding of the covenant which God had made with the Jewish people. Jesus, using both the kingdom of God tradition and the covenant tradition, interpreted the kingdom of God in a distinctively new way: the kingdom of God had already begun in the hearts of men and women and the gospel message of the kingdom of God was being preached to the marginated. Other biblical scholars have raised objections to the Stegemann position. Raymond Brown, Carolyn Osiek, and Pheme Perkins have presented strong arguments against the use of the term movement.27 In their view, the use of the phrase, “charismatic movement,” is too heavily interpreted by Webber’s writings. Their challenge raises the question: Is one reading into a description of the Jesus community through the placement of twentieth-century sociological thought patterns into a first century movement?28 4. The First Followers of Jesus Formed a Koinonia or Community Similar to Other Jewish Religious Communities The fourth classification of the early followers of Jesus is that of a koinonia or a community within Judaism. This position has been strongly presented by Raymond Brown, Carolyn Osiek, and Pheme Perkins For 26 Ekkehard W. Stegemann and Wolfgang Stegemann, Urchistliche Sozialgeschichte: Die Anfänge im Judentum und die Christusgemeinden in der mediterranen Welt (Stuttgart: Verlag W. Kohlhammer, 1995); Eng. trans. by O. C. Dean, The Jesus Movement: A Social History of its First Century (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1999). 27 Raymond Brown, Carolyn Osiek, and Pheme Perkins, “Early Church,” New Jerome Biblical Commentary: 1338–1354. 28 Stegemann, op. cit., 194–195.


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them, the simple description of community seems to be a preferred description. They write: “The wide distribution of the term koinonia, ‘community,’ ‘communion,’ in the NT shows that those who were baptized felt very strongly that they had much in common.”29 These authors also connect the term koinonia to ecclesia, which reflects the Jewish use of the same Greek term (ekklesia) for their local assemblies. The Jewishness of these early Jesus communities is further stressed by the same authors when they write: The older blueprint supposition by which Jesus had the church clearly in mind and had already planned its structure, sacraments, etc., has little or no textual support.30

This older blueprint is also referred to as an “oversimplified notion of a church already existing in Jesus’ lifetime.”31 Whether the followers of Jesus in this early stage of development should be called a Jewish sect, a Jewish millenarian religious movement, a Jewish charismatic religious movement, or a Jewish community is not the precise issue of my concern. My listing of the various names for the first followers of Jesus as presented by contemporary biblical scholars indicates that one cannot call the early followers of Jesus by the technical term, church. To read the term church with its later interpretation into these early communities of the followers of Jesus is eisegesis, a reading into the texts. It is not exegesis, a reading out of the texts. I would like to illustrate this position by reflecting on St. Paul. We do not know when he was born, nor do we know where he was born. In his own letters, he boasts of his Jewish background (Rom 11:1; Phil 3:5–6; 2 Cor 11: 22). In his intellectual understanding of Judaism he surpassed his peers (Gal 1:14). He undoubtedly spoke and wrote in Aramaic and Hebrew, but the writings which are extant are all in Greek. Consequently, he had a Greek education, and in the Greek academy of those times he learned to use Greek in a rhetorical way. Since most people at that time were illiterate, the teaching of Greek in Greek institutions did not have as its goal the training of students who would become famous writers. Rather the goal of Greek education was to develop a person who could speak rhetorically so that those

29

Raymond Brown, Carolyn Osiek, and Pheme Perkins, New Jerome Biblical Commentary: 1340. 30 Ibid., 1339. 31 Ibid., 1340.

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who could not read would remember delightful phrases, impressive anecdotes, thought-provoking parables, etc. Religiously, Paul remained Jewish for his entire life. His Jewish convictions, however, reflected one of the several “Judaisms” of his day and age. For instance, he believed in a personal afterlife, a Jewish belief which had gradually gained some acceptance only from the time of Daniel onward, namely about 174 bce. At the time of the 1 Maccabees, near the beginning of the first century bce, and 2 Maccabees somewhat earlier, life after death had become slightly more acceptable to some Jews (II Macc 7:1–42, the martyrdom of the mother and her seven sons). In the Letters of Paul, a personal life after death is mentioned with great frequency. Like other Jewish leaders of the early first-century, Paul was at first not enthusiastic about the Jesus-community. In fact, he was strongly against it. From his writings, however, we can gather that Paul underwent a profound religious experience, which turned his life around. From an enemy of the Jesus movement, Paul became a major leader of the movement. In the letter to the Galatians, Paul writes: I make known to you, brothers, that the gospel (ευαγγέλιον) which I preached to you (το ευαγγελισθεν) was not a human message (κατα ανθρωπον) for I did not receive (παρέλαβον) it from men nor was I taught it (ουτε εδιδάχθην), but it came through a revelation (αλλα δι’ αποκαλυψεως) of Jesus Christ. (1:11–12).

In v. 16, Paul repeats the term, revelation. In 1 Cor 15, 8, Paul writes: Jesus appeared to me (ωφθη καμοί). These words, δι’ αποκαλυψεως and ωφθη καμοί, are words which in the Septuagint and in the New Testament refer to a major religious experience. In these biblical religious experiences, it is God who acts first. In the case of Paul, God acted first through Jesus, and in Paul’s sudden experience of God, there was a both a manifestation of the divine and a mission which God intended for Paul. In the writings of Paul, his religious experience is referred to with great caution and in carefully selected terms. God acted; Paul responded. In this action-reaction, Paul was changed, and he accepted Jesus as the manifestatio of God and eventually through this religious experience he understood his missio within the Jesus community. Paul is extremely discreet in his mention of this changing-moment in is life. In the three narratives of Paul’s “conversion,” which we find in Acts,


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Luke is dramatic and even histrionic. Richard J. Dillon in his essay, Acts of the Apostles, studied the construction of the Lucan approach to Paul’s conversion in a way which indicates how the author, Luke, uses an interpretive pen to describe the event.32 In Paul’s own accounting, however, one senses a deeply personal event, which he mentions in a very hesitant and cautious way. Paul, through this religious experience, accepted Jesus. But in what way? The first letter to the Thessalonians is the earliest extant writing we have concerning Jesus. Paul wrote this letter in 50 or 51 ce, some fifteen to seventeen years after his religious experience. In this letter, Paul uses the phrase, Ιησους Χριστος, again and again. In most English translations, one finds this phrase translated as “Jesus Christ.” However, Paul as a religious Jew in my view heard this phrase differently, namely, “Jesus Messiah.” In his religious experience in which Jesus appeared to him and revealed himself to him, Paul realized that God was revealing something to him. God entered into Paul’s heart and mind indicating that Jesus was indeed the Messiah. Among the followers of Jesus, Paul was not the first to accept Jesus as messiah, Χριστος. Throughout his letters, Paul never attempts to justify his use of Χριστος. This indicates that Χριστος was already an accepted way of understanding Jesus. The followers of Jesus after the death and resurrection had asked themselves: who is this Jesus? Their primary answer was Χριστος. In Second Temple Judaism there were many various forms of Χριστος. Raymond Brown provides us with the way in which the term, Χριστος, developed in the Old Testament.33 How did the earliest followers of Jesus interpret the idea of messiah? One of the late versions of the messiah found from Daniel onward was that of a messiah sent by God just prior to the end of the world. This Χριστος would call out to the Jewish people for the last time. Yahweh had called out to Abraham, Noah, and Jacob. He had called out to his people through Moses and led them out of Egypt. He had called them out of the Sinai. He had called them out of the Babylonian Captivity and had called them to their home in Palestine. Qahal was a well understood word in the Jewish community, and in the Septuagint Qahal was translated

32 Richard J. Dillon, “Acts of the Apostles,” The New Jerome Biblical Commentary: 743–744; 760; and 763. 33 Raymond Brown, “Aspects of Old Testament Thought,” The New Jerome Biblical Commentary: 152–163.

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into Greek by εκκλησία.34 The final Χριστος came to call the saved, the chosen, and the true Israelites. Paul, when he was writing the first letter to the Thessalonians, was aware of the final calling. He expected to be alive when the final day took place (1 Thess 4:15–17; cf. also 1 Cor 15:20–26). That Paul viewed Jesus as this final messiah, Χριστος, is a legitimate interpretation. Did Paul understand Jesus as “God”? Did he understand Jesus as God in the way we find at the Councils of Nicaea, Ephesus, and Chalcedon? For the latter, certainly not, for the former I would also say no. The human-Jesus: God relationship is a discussion which engrossed the early church from 100 to 682 ce. When Paul was writing to the Thessalonians, the Jesus-God issue was still in the future. What I want to draw from the Pauline material is the following: Paul committed himself to Jesus and was overwhelmed by the meaning of Jesus even if that meaning is simply the final Χριστος. The early followers of Jesus had also committed themselves to Jesus. The Gospel of Mark was written for the Marcan community, and in this gospel Mark clearly states: do not focus on the apostles such as Peter and the rest, for they did not understand Jesus. Three times, Jesus told them about his death, and they could not grasp what Jesus meant. Nor should they focus on the holy women. The women remained at the cross but when they came to the tomb, they, too, did not “get it.” They said nothing to anyone.” Mark is saying to his community: focus on Jesus; commit yourselves to Jesus. The gospel of Matthew is no different. Matthew is writing for his own community, and he presents a Jesus in whom they can center their lives. Matthew’s readers were urged to commit themselves to Jesus. Luke’s gospel in a different way centers on Jesus, urging his readers and hearers to make Jesus the center of their lives.35 In the Johannine writings

34

See Joseph Fitzmyer, “Pauline Theology,” The New Jerome Biblical Commentary: 1411. 35 See Robert Karris, “The Gospel according to Luke,” The New Jerome Biblical Commentary, 675–721. Karris has written an exceptionally well-focused commentary on Luke, 4:14 to 9:50 (689–700). The scene begins in Galilee and Karris states: “Galilee is the territory wherein Luke begins his description of the meaning of God’s kingdom.” From 4:14 to 9:50, Luke presents the main issues which constitute Jesus’ message. In these many verses, we have a summation of Lucan theology. Karris entitles the verses 5:12–16 as “Jesus’ Boundary-Breaking Ministry for Outcasts.” The message of the gospels is boundary breaking. In Francis of Assisi’s efforts to live the gospel, he broke many boundaries. In the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition, the scholars and theologians have broken many boundaries. They do this since the message of the gospel itself calls


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it is not the Beloved Disciple who is central, it is Jesus. Throughout the Johannine writings, the followers are urged to commit themselves to the love of Jesus and God. With this centrality on Jesus, we are back to the place from which we started, namely that the community called church is to reflect Jesus if the community truly wants to be church. Spiritually, it is our centering on Jesus that makes us truly Christian. Theologically, when ecclesiology is focused on Jesus, ecclesiology becomes credible. I have found it amazing that in the writings of Francis and of Clare Jesus is central. Of course, both speak of church but it is always in a secondary way. Francis’ Rule of 1225 contains the following words: “The Rule and Life of the Lesser Brothers is this: to observe the Holy Gospel of Our Lord Jesus Christ.”36 In Francis’ Letter to the Entire Order (1225–1226) we read: Listen, sons of the Lord and my brothers, pay attention to my words. Incline your heart and obey the voice of the Son Of God. Observe His commands with your whole heart and fulfill His counsels with a perfect mind. Give praise to Him because He is good; exalt Him by your deeds; for this reason He has sent you into the world; that you may bear witness to his voice in word and deed and bring everyone to know that there is no one who is all powerful except Him.37

In the Testament, written in 1226—the same year of his death—Francis speaks so intimately of his relationship with Jesus: “The Lord gave me, Brother Francis, thus to begin doing penance in this way: for when I was in sin, it seemed too bitter for me to see lepers. And the Lord Himself led me among that and I showed mercy to them.” He continues: “And the Lord gave me such faith in churches that I would pray in simplicity in this way and say: ‘We adore you, Lord Jesus Christ, in all Your churches throughout the whole world.” Again: “And the Lord gave me some brothers, no one showed me what I had to do, but the Most High Himself revealed to me that I should live according to the pattern of the Holy Gospel.”38 us to break down structures which limit the goodness of God, bonum sui diffusivum (Bonaventure), and which attempt to enclose within church structures the infinite freedom of God (Scotus). 36 See Francis of Assisi, “The Later Rule: 1223,” Francis of Assisi: the Saint, chapter one, 100. 37 See Francis of Assisi, “A Letter to the Entire Order,” Francis of Assisi: The Saint, 116–117. 38 Francis of Assisi, “The Testament,” Francis of Assisi: The Saint, 125, 14.

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Many other citations from the writings of Francis could be made in this same framework, namely, the Lord led me, the Lord gave me, and the Lord told me. Francis was deeply Jesus-centered, and through Jesus God-centered. In Francis, people saw a way of living that came straight from the gospels. Francis lived in the church, but the real source of his life was the Lord Jesus. His life was a lunar life with Jesus whose humanity reflected the solar God. In this sense, he provides an example of what every Christian should be. We should all be lunar people, letting the light of Jesus (Lumen gentium) direct us and through Jesus’ humanity, letting the solar Light of God enliven both ourselves and those around us. A renewed theology of church needs to start as a church which is centered on Jesus and through Jesus on God. I have stressed this Jesus relationship as the core of today’s renewed theology. In many Christian Churches, and especially in the Roman Catholic Church, the centering of one’s life is too often the church itself. We hear far too often: this is what the Church teaches; or this what the Church’s magisterium says. Sentire cum ecclesia is a key phrase in today’s Roman Catholic Church. Perhaps it should be: sentire cum evangelio or sentire cum Jesu. In many evangelical and independent churches there is a very strong stress on a commitment to Jesus. Such communities offer an ecclesial dimension from which all churches can profitably imitate.39 Two other issues on the centrality of Jesus for ecclesiology need to be made. Scotus is well-known for his teaching on Haecceitas or individuation. Actually, he used the term, Haecceitas sparingly,40 but throughout his career he was deeply concerned about individuality. In the Franciscan tradition, the Logos became incarnate in an individual human being, that is in the Haecceitas of Jesus. Scotus defines individuation as follows: Unde breviter dico, quod omnis forma, quae est species alicujus generis, est composita ex potentiali aliquo et actu, et omnis talis est haec per formam individualem.41

39 In some of the evangelical and independent churches, however, there is at times an attitude that they alone are the true church. This, of course, places them on the edges of contemporary ecumenical endeavors. 40 See Scotus, Reportatio Parisiensis, II, d. 3, nn. 25, 29, 31, and 32. 41 Scotus, Quaestiones Subtilissimae super libros Metaphysicorum Aristotelis, VII, q. 13.


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Ingham comments that Haecceitas is “an original insight on the part of Scotus” and “a core concept for his philosophical and theological reflections.”42 For Scotus, the individuating entity is neither the matter nor the form or the composite insofar as each of can be called a “nature” (the material nature and the formal nature). Human nature itself was generally described as a composition of matter and form. Scotus teaches that the individuating entity is the ultimate reality of an existent being, ens. Every existing being is only one real thing, res, in which certain aspects can be formally distinct. In such a mental distinction, human nature is one reality and individuation is another reality. However, human nature exists only in singularity. In the actual world, nature and singularity can never be separated in a real way. However, human nature and individuality are formally distinct.43 Christian theology states that the Logos assumed human nature, but this assumed human nature was not and cannot be an abstract nature. The Logos was united to an existing human nature and therefore a singular human nature, an Haecceitas. In his humanity, Jesus was an individual human being to whom the Logos was united. The usual expression, namely two natures and one person, imply that the human nature of Jesus was not individualized, since the person of the Logos personified the human nature. In the Scotistic framework, Jesus’ human nature had to be individualized if a true incarnation of the Logos took place. The full humanity of Jesus requires actual individuality; otherwise, it is not the same nature which all other human beings have. The divine Logos and an individual human being are united in an existential and relational manner. The oneness between the Logos and the individual human being, Jesus, is in the relationship of these two existing realities.44 If the Logos is simply united to an abstract human nature, there is no incarnation, since the Logos did not become one of us. Only if the Logos is united to an individualized human nature, do we truly have an incarnation. In close relationship to the Scotistic Haecceitas of Jesus, I want to add the issue of the humility of the incarnation which was a centering focus of Francis of Assisi. Rather than view the incarnation as a moment of

42 Ingham, “John Duns Scotus: An Integrated Vision,” The History of Franciscan Theology: 188. 43 Ibid., 189–190. 44 See Karl Rahner, “Die Christologie innerhalb einer evolutiven Weltanschauung,” Schriften zur Theologie (Einsiedeln: Benziger Verlag, 1964), v. 5, 173–192.

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glory with angels singing on high and wise men kneeling with elegant gifts, with a star from heaven shining on the holy family and shepherds standing in awe, Francis stressed the poverty of Joseph and Mary and therefore the poverty of Jesus as well. He stressed that when Jesus was born the Jewish world of that time cared less. A few Jewish shepherds may have visited Mary, Joseph, and the infant Jesus, but the shepherds, in the first century, were regarded with scorn. They were the Gypsies of that period of time and place. They were, as far as Jewish society was concerned, nobodies. The incarnation as far as the world was concerned was a “non-event.” When we view the incarnation through the lens of its humility, creation itself takes on a new aspect, for we see sacred beauty in the “non-event,” in the insignificant reality, and in the social rejection of the God who became human. This humility of the Logos made flesh in the human Jesus is a manifestation of God’s concern for each and every individual, even the least individual. It is a manifestation that God loves each human being, no matter how disregarded and disrespected he or she might be. In the incarnation itself, the good news is preached to the poor who are disregarded and even rejected. What amazed Francis was the unity of God with the lowest of people. In each individual the kingdom of God is present. The vestigium and imago of God is present in each individual, each Haecceitas. God’s diffusive love extends to the most humble and least prominent person. In this humility of the incarnation of Haecceitas, the true meaning of the incarnation appears and the true value of the individual appears. There are theologians who describe the incarnation in glorious terms. Jesus is the new-born king of Israel and the Lord of the entire world. Some theologians even go so far as to make Jesus a cosmic Jesus.45 To make Jesus into a human individual who is above all other individuals and who is cosmic in power and supremacy makes Jesus into a nonhuman. The incarnation is negated when Jesus becomes super-human. A super-human is basically a non-human. However, the incarnation indicates that the Logos became a humble human individual and lived in a tent next to our own. This Logos-made-human Haecceitas lives next door to us and has an individualized human name: Jesus.

45

Cf. Leonardo Boff, Trinity and Society (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1988), eng. trans. Paul Burns, particularly chapter ten, “Glory be to the Son Mediator of Integral Liberation,” 178–188. In many ways I appreciate the works of Boff, but on the issue of a cosmic Christ I have many hesitatations.


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The Logos was sent (missio) and was made manifest (manifestatio). This manifestation took place precisely in the Haecceitas known as Jesus. A universalizing and generalizing of Jesus destroys his human reality, his Haecceitas. Jesus lived in a humble way, and Francis was amazed that God so loved the world that he sent his only-begotten Son into a humble family and that this Son lived as a poor and insignificant individual human being. No wonder, then, that Jesus loved the poor, the outcasts, the needy, the lame, the sick, and the blind. Their Haecceitas was similar to his, humble and unassuming. In Jesus’ daily existence, the poor had the gospel preached to them. Francis heard this gospel message which a humble Jesus preached. Francis then tried to live in a similar way, and in doing so he became a major image of what a “church” person is all about. A third-millennium ecclesiology needs to allow the theology of a triune God, a God who is bonum sui diffusivum, love, and infinite freedom to shape and color the meaning of the Jesus-community. From the post-Reformation period onward, Christian Churches have tended to be inward looking and this is evident in virtue of the apologetic qualities of their ecclesiologies. “Our church” is the correct church; “their church” is not the true church. The same bonum sui diffusivum, love, and infinite freedom of God is found everywhere and one’s theology of God must strongly shape and color all other aspects of Christian theology. Ecclesiology cannot be the reality which shapes and colors all theological issues, including the issue of God. Let God be God might be today’s motto for ecclesiology. In doing this, there are many elements of the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition, as we have seen in the above paragraphs, which can serve the renewal of the church today. The third reality in the Creation-Jesus-Spirit interrelationship is, of course, the holy Spirit. However, the role of the Spirit in our world cannot be understood without its contextualization in the kingdom of God.

2. A Theology of Church Is Related to the Kingdom of God In the last one hundred years, the Kingdom of God has become a major theme of research by biblical scholars and by systematic theologians.46 46 Cf., John Fuellenbach, The Kingdom of God: The Message of Jesus (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 1995). His bibliography offers a wide scope of current scholarship on the Kingdom of God: 319–328. His introduction sets out the current status on the

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During the public life of Jesus, the preaching of Jesus focused on the kingdom of God. In the volume, Jesus and the Victory of God, Nicholas T. Wright presents his readers with the following scenario in an effort to stimulate their thinking as regards the historical approach to Jesus’ use of the phrase the kingdom of God. What would first-century Galilean villagers have heard if a prophet came into their area announcing that the true god was becoming king? A good deal of recent writing has attempted to clarify this question and to plot possible answers to it.47

Wright is urging his readers to re-imagine the initial context of Jesus’ preaching on the kingdom of God. How did the early Galileans understand the term? What came into their mind when they heard these words? For Wright, this is the first group which needs to be studied in order to gain some insight into the historical meaning of the phrase kingdom of God. Since the first followers of Jesus were all Jewish, their interpretation of Jesus’ words would have been made within a semitic episteme. Recent research on Second Temple Judaism has provided a rich background for understanding the message of Jesus.48 These volumes help scholars today to see more clearly the nuances of Jesus’ preaching about the Kingdom of God to a predominantly Jewish audience who lived during the last decades of Second Temple Judaism. Wright notes that the followers of Jesus who lived during the decades immediately after the death and resurrection interpreted the meaning of the kingdom of God in a way which differed from the understanding of the kingdom held by those who lived during the actual lifetime of Jesus, since this latter group perceived the meaning of God’s kingdom from the standpoint of Jesus’ death and resurrection. For the followers of Jesus who lived during his lifetime Jesus’ death and resurrection were as yet unknown factors. This second group of followers of Jesus includes all the main writers of the New Testament as well as the many unknown and unnamed

issue of church :: kingdom of God: 1–22. Major scholars immediately come to mind: Johannes Weiss, Albert Schweitzer, Joachim Jeremias, Rudolf Bultmann, Charles H. Dodd, George Eldon Ladd, Burton Mack, Norman Perrin, Dominic Crossan, Nicholas Thomas Wright, Jon Sobrino, and John Meier. 47 Wright, op. cit., 220. 48 Paolo Sacchi, Storia del Secondo Tempio (Turin: Società Editrice Internazionale, 1994) see Sacchi’s wide-ranging bibliography on Second Temple Judaism, 487–497.


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followers of Jesus who existed during the decades from 30 to 100. How did these people, Jewish and Greek, interpret the phrase kingdom of God? How did they, from a different standpoint of time, namely, after the death and resurrection of Jesus, evaluate the meaning of God’s kingdom? The views of these two groups are important, since through them we gain a solid sense of the earliest understanding of Jesus’ use of kingdom of God. Meier indicates that the exact phrase “Kingdom of God” was used only twice in the entire corpus of the Jewish Scriptures. In the inter-testamentary period, one finds a few more occurrences of “Kingdom of God” but not in an abundant way. Jesus apparently selected this particular phrase, “Kingdom of God,” as the key focus of his teaching and preaching.49 In one way or another, a majority of recent authors regard the kingdom of God either as the central message of Jesus or as a major element of his preaching.50 Some contemporary authors follow Norman Perrin’s conclusion that the kingdom of God is a tensive symbol.51 In other words, the phrase kingdom of God as used by Jesus and by the authors of the New Testament had multiple layers of meaning. From an historical stance, John Meier offers a fast-forward description of the meaning of the kingdom of God by relating in a lengthy paragraph everything that God had done from Abraham to Jesus.52 In his view, the kingdom of God is an ongoing happening, a process, and a relationship, in which God is acting in human history. The importance of this theme becomes clearer if we take into account what Jesus did not preach. Today’s biblical scholars are in agreement that the main theme of Jesus’ preaching and teaching was not about himself. Jesus did not preach that he was the Messiah. He did not preach that he was the Son of God. He did not preach that he was the second person of the Trinity or the incarnate Logos. Jesus more often than not shunned the titles of both messiah and king; thus a claim to be messiah or king was not the center of his preaching. Nor did Jesus preach that

49 For an in-depth study of the Kingdom as found in the scriptures, see Meier, A Marginal Jew, v. 2, 237–506. 50 Joachim Jeremias, New Testament Theology (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1971, Eng. trans. by John Bowden, 96–108. Jeremias writes explicitly: “The basileia is the central theme of the public proclamation of Jesus” (96). 51 Norman Perrin, Jesus and the Language of the Kingdom: Symbol and Metaphor in New Testament Interpretation (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1976), 29–34. 52 Meier, A Marginal Jew, v. 2, 241.

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he was founding a new church or a new religion. None of these themes centralize Jesus’ preaching and teaching as found in the New Testament. The theme of the kingdom of God, however, does so. With this in mind, let us go back to Wright’s suggestion: “What would first-century Galilean villagers have heard if a prophet came into their area announcing that the true god was becoming king?” In the New Testament, Jesus appears as an itinerant preacher, similar to many other Jewish preachers of his time. John the Baptist, an itinerant preacher, stands out as someone similar to Jesus, but in the seven last decades of Second Temple Judaism there were many other itinerant preachers in Palestine. Both Jesus and John the Baptist have some similarities to contemporary preachers who are called “revivalists.” These modern men and women attempt to revive in a deeply spiritual way the religious persuasions of a particular group of Christians. Jesus, of course, cannot be presented as a Christian revivalist. Perhaps one might call him a Jewish revivalist. He certainly wanted his Jewish listeners to deepen their love both for Yahweh and for their Jewish faith. Wright states the case in a similar way: “Jesus’ announcement of the kingdom was, in short, the articulation of a new variant upon Israel’s basic worldview.”53 As with John the Baptist, Jesus’ offer of a new variant did not mean simply a renewal of existing structures in Judaism but in many ways “Jesus was therefore summoning his hearers to be Israel in a new way.”54 Neither John nor Jesus intended to establish a new religion. They were interested in forming a group of people who would form Israel in a new way. Jesus preached to Galileans and other Jewish groups who were, at that time, politically under Roman occupation. They were a conquered people with all the emotional, national, political, and demeaning ramifications which this implies. However, Jesus’ message was not a call for political reform, much less for political revolt.55 Jesus preached to people who were poor and for the most part illiterate.56 However, Jesus’ message once again was not a call for a social movement which would allow his listeners to gain better jobs, better 53

Wright, 200. Ibid., 201. 55 Wright presents a strong critique of the positions of Eric Hobsbawn, Richard Horseley, John S. Hanson, Dominic Crossan, Darrell Blok, and Brent Shaw, who proposed and defended an overly political aspect of Jesus’ preaching. See 44–66; 150–168. 56 Meier, A Marginal Jew, v. 1, 253–315. 54


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wages, and better education. Some of the early followers of Jesus were men and women of wealth and education, and Jesus accepted these men and women as his followers, just as he accepted people with less means and less social stature. Jesus also preached to a people whose main Jewish religious leaders were controlled by the Romans and who for the most part willingly sided with the Romans. Jesus’ message did affect these main leaders, since the coming of the kingdom of God in Jesus’ perspective clearly indicated a change in top leadership. Jesus, similar to John the Baptist, preached a message of reconciliation and love of God which deliberately did not mirror specific details that had been legislated by Jewish religious authority. Vis-à-vis Jewish authority, Jesus’ message of the kingdom of God was an open affront and challenge to their authority, even though his message included many aspects of Jewish theology which the leaders also maintained. We find this agreement-disagreement motif in the following themes. • Jesus agreed with the Jewish tradition that the long-awaited kingdom of God was coming, but he disagreed with the ways that the leaders of the Jewish world presented it. In their presentation the leaders themselves would be confirmed in the new kingdom. Jesus clearly indicated that the prostitutes would get into heaven before them. • Jesus agreed with the Jewish tradition that exilic times (Roman occupation) were coming to an end and that Yahweh would return to Jerusalem. Jesus, however, did not describe the end time in the ways that the leaders of the Jewish world described it. In the new era which Jesus foresaw, the governing structures of Israel would be radically changed. • Jesus preached a restoration of Israel, but not in the same way which the Jewish leaders considered the ideal restoration. For Jesus, such a restoration did not include a temple and temple keepers. The ways in which the then current Jewish leadership envisioned the new Israel were, in Jesus’ view, counterproductive. Even more, such ways would result in disaster. Therefore, Jesus was challenging the Jews of his time to be Israel in a new way. Jesus’ understanding of the kingdom of God, which he preached publicly even when Jewish leaders were in attendance, set in motion a conflict between Jesus and Jewish authorities. The conflict centered on Jesus’ understanding of the kingdom of God. His understanding went beyond the boundaries prescribed by the

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hierarchical Judaism of his time. His preaching on the kingdom and its openness to sinners, namely, those “excommunicated” by the Jewish leaders were an affront to their authority. The process of an inevitable showdown had begun. The above material leads to my main point. Just as the phrase kingdom of God when used by Jesus meant a boundary-breaking situation involving first-century institutional Judaism, so, too, the phrase kingdom of God when used today means a boundary-breaking situation involving third-millennium ecclesiologies. Robert Karris in his essay, “The Gospel according to Luke,” describes Jesus’ Galilean ministry as found in Luke’ gospel (4:14–9:50).57 In this section of the gospel, Luke outlines the main themes of Jesus’ teaching. Karris includes in this thematic material a section he entitles: “Jesus’ boundary breaking ministry for outcasts (5:12–16)”. In his commentary on these verses, he writes: Jesus, the Holy One of God (4:34) steps across the boundaries separating clean from unclean, touches the unclean, and restores that person to the nurture of human community.58

Kingdom and church, though interrelated, are not coextensive. Their boundaries are not identical. A theology of the kingdom of God breaks, even today, the boundaries of a particular theology of church. The emphasis today on Jesus’ central message regarding the kingdom of God calls Christians today to be church in a new way, just as it had called the Jews of Jesus’ time to be Israel in a new way. The kingdommessage entails a boundary-breaking situation.59 With the above background on kingdom of God in mind, let us now focus on the relationship between the kingdom of God and the church which is a crucial theme in contemporary theological discussions.

57 Robert Karris, “The Gospel according to Luke,” New Jerome Biblical Commentary: 675–721. 58 Ibid., 692. 59 See Wayne Meeks, The First Urban Christians (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983; see also the final statement of the sixth FABC Plenary Assembly, “Christian Discipleship in Asia Today: Service to Life” For All the Peoples of Asia, v. 2, 1–12. In the same volume there is the final statement of the FABC International Theological Colloquium, held in Thailand, in 1994, “Being Church in Asia: Journeying with the Spirit into Fuller Life.” In n. 28, the authors state: “He [Jesus] breaks down social barriers, encrusted in customs and traditions and entrenched in social structures” 222. See also New People Editorial Staff (Nairobi), “An Open Letter to the Holy Father: An African Synod without Africa,” The African Synod: Documents, Reflections, Perspectives (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1996), 61–67. In all of these writings, the message of Jesus is presented as a breaking of boundaries.


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Today’s kingdom-church discussions have highlighted the need for a better understanding of a relational church, that is, a church which exists in relation to the kingdom of God. In 1950, the encyclical of Pius XII, Mystici corporis, implied that the church and the kingdom are either coextensive with each other or minimally distinct. He wrote: Because Christ is so exalted, He alone by every right rules and governs the Church, and herein is yet another reason why He must be likened to a head. As the head is the “royal citadel” of the body—to use the words of Ambrose—and all the members, over which it is placed for their good, are naturally guided by it as being endowed with superior powers, so the Divine Redeemer holds the helm of the universal state of Christians and directs its course. And as a government of human society means merely this, to lead men to the end proposed by means that are expedient, just and helpful, it is easy to see how our Saviour, model and ideal of good shepherds, performs all these functions in a most striking way (38).

It is true that in the encyclical of Pius XII the term kingdom is not used with any frequency. However, when Pius XII begins to employ words such as “ruler,” “governing,” and “society”—words which he uses often—the inference of kingdom is unavoidable. For this pope, the church (and Pius XII meant only the Roman Catholic Church) and the kingdom of God are virtually coextensive. Paul VI in his apostolic exhortation, Evangelii nuntiandi, mentions the kingdom of God with some frequency: The kingdom of God is to be considered, therefore, as the absolute good so that everything else is subordinate to it (8). Only the kingdom, therefore, is absolute and it makes everything else relative (8). Christ proclaims salvation as the outstanding element and, as it were, the central point of his good news (9). This kingdom and this salvation—these words may be regarded as the key to a full understanding of the evangelization of Jesus Christ (10).

At times, Paul VI, in this exhortation, tends to blur the distinction between kingdom and church, while at other times he stresses the distinction between the two. When his focus turns to world religions, he makes a remarkable statement. This proclamation [of the kingdom of God] is relevant also for immense sections of the human race who profess non-Christian religions in which the spiritual life of innumerable human communities finds valid expression. . . . These religions, possessing as they do, a splendid patrimony of

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chapter seven religious writings, have taught generations of men how to pray. They are adorned by innumerable “seeds of the Word” and therefore constitute a genuine “preparation for the gospel” (53).

What is remarkable in Paul VI’s statement is this: non-Christian religions and not merely individual non-Christians are holy, and these religions provide holiness to their followers. Usually, the common theological view had focused on the individual; Paul VI focuses on the religious institutions themselves. This is a major theological turning point. His use of the two phrases, “seeds of the Word” and “preparation for the gospel,” contributes to the ambiguity of Paul VI’s thought. Is he saying that the kingdom of God is already present in these religions? Is he saying that the institutional holiness connected to these institutions is only a seed of the Word and only a preparation for the gospel? Or finally is he saying that the institutional holiness is a preparation for the Word and gospel as found in the Christian Church? The basic approach of Paul VI appears in these words: “In its totality, evangelization—over and above the preaching of a message—consists in the implantation of the Church, which does not exist without the driving force which is the sacramental life, culminating in the Eucharist” (28, italics added). If Paul VI truly means an implantation of the church, then his frequent use of the term kingdom of God and his commendation of the religious institutions of the world lose their luster. A church-centered theology today needs to be far more relational than these last words of Paul VI indicate. John Paul II took a different slant. For John Paul II, the kingdom and the church are by no means identical. Chapter two of his encyclical, Redemptoris missio, is entitled “The Kingdom of God.” In paragraphs 13 to 15, he provides the major characteristics of the kingdom of God. 1. the kingdom is meant for all; 2. liberation and salvation come through the kingdom to all peoples in both physical and spiritual dimensions (healing and forgiving); 3. the kingdom transforms human relationships; 4. the kingdom is the concern of everyone—individuals, society, and the world; 5. in a word, the kingdom of God is the manifestation and the realization of God’s plan of salvation in all its fullness. John Paul makes his position even clearer in paragraphs 18 to 20.

a relational theology of the church 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

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The Church is not an end unto herself (19). The Church is effectively and concretely at the service of the kingdom (20). The Church is ordered towards the kingdom of God (18). The Church is the seed, sign and instrument of the kingdom of God (18). The Church is distinct from Christ and the kingdom of God (18). The Church is indissolubly united to both (18). After making these statements, John Paul II summarizes his ideas. The result is a unique and special relationship which, while not excluding the action of Christ and the Spirit outside the Church’s visible boundaries, confers upon her a specific and necessary role; hence the Church’s special connection with the Kingdom of God and of Christ, which she has: the mission of announcing and inaugurating (the kingdom) among all peoples (18).

These texts, either from Pius XII, Paul VI, or John Paul II, are not submitted as defined doctrine, and thus the relationship between the church and the kingdom of God remains an open question in theology. John Paul II has stated that both Christ and the Spirit can act and do act beyond the boundaries of the church. In the citation above, he writes: “while not excluding the action of Christ and the Spirit outside the Church’s visible boundaries” (18).60 His position clearly reemphasizes what I have stated many times, namely, that ecclesiology is subaltern to both christology and pneumatology. That there is a relation of church to kingdom is theologically accepted in contemporary Christian theology as a given. How the two are theologically related remains an open matter of discussion. John Paul II affirms that the church is not an end unto herself; that the church is effectively and concretely at the service of the kingdom; and that the church is distinct from Christ and the kingdom of God. In this kind of language, it becomes evident that the church is subservient and dependent on the kingdom and therefore in its nature it is a relational church. The church has it own unity and unicity; and the kingdom has its own unity and unicity. Not only do church and kingdom have their own unique unity but each has it own unicity. There can be only one church, and there can be only one kingdom of God. The unity of the church is not identical to the unity of the kingdom, and the unicity of

60 Lumen gentium also makes the same statement in section 8. Cf. also Gaudium et spes, 45.

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the church is not identical to the unicity of the kingdom. Hence, the church, even as one and unique, has a relational unity and unicity to the unity and unicity of the kingdom. One of the major reasons why this discussion of kingdom vis-à-vis church is important today is the Christian Churches’ contemporary dialogue with other religions. Inter-religious dialogues which before the twentieth century were generally local or regional have now become international. For this reason, the contemporary global dialogues need to make the distinction of church and kingdom much more a part of the discussion. Christian Church leadership today, whether Anglican, Protestant, Orthodox, or Roman Catholic, has moved cautiously on the kingdomissue in these contemporary inter-religious dialogues. A major reason for this cautious approach is the danger of evaluating one religion as equal to any other religion. Contemporary Christian leadership wants to maintain not only the uniqueness of Christianity, but also it wants to maintain the superiority of Christianity. Superiority, not unity and unicity, is undoubtedly the most problematic issue in the current inter-religious dialogues. If the assertion is made that the Christian Church is one and unique, neither unity nor unicity by themselves infer that all other religions are inferior to the Christian religion. Each world religion has its own unity and unicity. Only when one says that the one and unique Christian Church is superior to all other religions is the field of discourse radically changed. Dialogue suddenly becomes a one-way monologue. A superior is speaking to an inferior. The theological reasons for insisting on the superiority of the Christian Church need to be reexamined not only because of the inter-religious dialogues, but also because of the current discussion within the Christian Church on the relationship of the church to the kingdom. In the writings of John Paul II, we heard: “The church is effectively and concretely at the service of the kingdom.” The phrase, at the service, indicates a superiority of the kingdom in reference to the church. John Paul also states: “The Church is ordered towards the kingdom of God.” Since the end is superior to the means, the church teleologically stands in an inferior order to the kingdom of God. It is precisely this kind of kingdom-superiority which calls for a relational theology of church. Today’s inter-religious discussions would take on a different format if the theme of their discussions would be changed. Generally one focuses these discussions on the following theme:


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The Christian Church on the one hand, and other World Religions on the other hand. Perhaps the theme of these discussions should be revised as follows: The Kingdom of God on the one hand and World Religions on the other hand. This change of theme—from church to kingdom—would bring about a major refocusing of the dialogues. In such a scenario, the argumentations pro and con would be considerably different from the argumentations between the Christian Church vis-à-vis non-Christian religions. The point I want to make is this: theologically there are realities which are indeed superior to the Christian Church, e.g., the Kingdom of God. Christian Church leaders have to acknowledge these superior realities, especially the superiority of the kingdom of God, the superiority of God’s own self, and superiority of the missions and manifestations of both Logos and Spirit. If Christians admit the superiority of the kingdom in relation to the church and if Christians admit that the kingdom of God and the church, though interrelated, are distinct realities, then how do Christians react to the manifestation of the kingdom in other religions? This is clearly an issue which some contemporary Anglican, Protestant, and Catholic theologians are now discussing.61 Cardinal Tomko, in his address to the Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences, was extremely critical of a kingdom theology. He called kingdom theology an earthquake with its epicenter in India.62 Theologians, he said, not only in India but in other parts of the world, have focused on an evangelization of the kingdom of God rather than on an evangelization of the Christian Church. Tomko almost demanded that all evangelization should be of the church, and that an evangelization involving the kingdom of God was self-destructive of the church.

61 See Jacques Dupuis, Toward a Christian Theology of Religious Pluralism (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1997); Peter Phan, Being Religious Interreligiously (Maryknoll: New York: Orbis Books, 2004); Carl Braaten, No Other Gospel! Christianity among the World’s Religions (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1992); A. D. Clarke and B. M. Winter, eds. One God, One Lord: Christianity in a World of Religious Pluralism (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker, 1992); John Hick, The Metaphor of God Incarnate: Christology in a Pluralistic Age (London: SCM Press, 1993). 62 Josef Cardinal Tomko, “Dialogue, Inculturation, and Evangelization in Asian,” Origins, 29 (2000) Feb.: 549–553.

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In the first plenary assembly of the Federation of Asian Bishops Conferences, April 27, 1974, which was held in Taipei, Taiwan, the Asian bishops expressed the presence of God at work in Asia for centuries. In Asia especially, this involves a dialogue with the great religious traditions of our people. In this dialogue we accept them as significant and positive elements in the economy of God’s design of salvation. In them we recognize and respect profound spiritual and ethical meanings and values. Over many centuries they have been the treasury of the religious experience of our ancestors, from which our contemporaries do not cease to draw light and strength. They have been (and continue to be) the authentic expression of the noblest longings of their hearts, and the home of their contemplation and prayer.63

The same insistence on the presence of the holy Spirit of God prior to any Christian evangelization was has been also made by Sub-Saharan African bishops and theologians. If the Spirit has been active in Asia and Africa prior to the introduction of Christianity, this indicates that the presence of the Spirit was manifest and active in these areas. The Spirit at work in these areas brought the message of the kingdom of God to the people of these areas. The implications of this presence of the Spirit are multi-dimensional. Another difficulty in the current Roman Catholic literature which disparages a kingdom theology and which calls for a church-centered theology is the question of “church” itself. In current interreligious dialogues, what does one mean by church? For instance, when the discussions center on the Christian Church vis-à-vis Hinduism, is the term “church” the Roman Catholic Church, the Anglican Church, or the Lutheran Church? Or is the term “church” some sort of a transdenominational church? If so, how does one define a transdenominational church? In the contemporary world, a definition or description of church cannot in every instance be exclusively a definition of the Anglican Church, the Orthodox Churches, the Protestant Churches or the Roman Catholic Church. The current ecumenical openness which permeates today’s ecclesial world has created new insights and relationships which are slowly finding their way into a meaningful ecclesiology. Ecumenical ways of thinking have been approved and encouraged by the top

63

Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences, For All the Peoples of Asia, v. 1, 14.


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levels of Roman Catholic leadership as well as top-level leadership of the Anglican, Protestant, and Orthodox Churches.64 In the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition, there is an abundance of material on God’s presence beyond the church. The Canticle of the Creatures, written by Francis of Assisi, clearly expresses his belief in God’s presence beyond the church. His brother, the sun and his sister the moon were not Catholics. They were simply part of the natural or created order of the world. Nonetheless, since they were created by same God who created Francis, the sun, moon, fire, and water were his brothers and sisters. In them, Francis saw the beauty and presence of God. Bonaventure echoes Francis’ respect for the entire earth and he does so in a theological way when he writes about vestigium. Freyer states Bonaventure’s approach in a clear way: Die Schöpfung ist somit ganz auf ihren Schöpfer verwiesen. In dieser der Schöfungsexistenz grundgelegten Verwiesenheit und Abhängigkeit von Gott sieht Bonaventura die Voraussetzung für seine theologisch-spirituelle Deutung der Schöfung as das “erste Buch Gottes”, das Gott mit seinem Wort geschrieben hat and das durch den Geist mit Leben erfüllt ist. Alle Geschöpfe dieses Schöpfungsbuches weisen auf Gott als ihren Schöpfer hin und erzählen von seiner Herrlichkeit und Güte. Alle Dinge sind Spüren, Schatten oder Bilder des Höchsten, die den Schöpfer in seiner Schöpfung aufscheinen lassen.65

In this passage we see that Bonaventure finds God outside the boundaries of a church, since God’s presence and God’s revelation is found in all creation. The Spirit of God is revealed in creation and in this revelation there is a message. This message is the presence of the Kingdom of God in our world. Scotus also echoes the insight of Francis, found in his Canticle of the Creatures. In his theory of Haecceitas, each individual creature has a uniqueness which has come from God. God did not create essences; God created individualized beings.66 These individualized beings, especially individualized human beings, have developed over many 64 Peter Phan, ed., The Gift of the Church (Collegeville, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 2000). See also Carl Braaten, Mother Church: Ecclesiology and Ecumenism (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998); Jeffrey Vanderwilt, A Church Without Borders (Collegeville, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 1998). 65 Freyer, op. cit., 55–56. 66 See Wolter, Duns Scotus’ Early Oxford Lecture on Individuation (Santa Barbara, CA: Old Mission Santa Barbara, 1992) xxvii.

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centuries different cultures, different languages, different social polities, and different religions. The Jesus movement started within a semitic context and then moved to the Graeco-Roman context. It became, to some degree, Germanic in the ninth century and Aristotelian from the twelfth century on. During the heyday of colonialism a European church was implanted in almost all the continents and islands of the earth. Conversion to the Christian church was seen as the goal of these missionary endeavors. Conversion included a conversion of cultures, of languages, of social polities, and of religious affiliation. In spite of this world-wide evangelization, Christianity during the past two millennia can only claim a membership of roughly one-fourth of the total world population. Three-fourths of the world population is not Christian. The kingdom of God, however, includes this three-fourth of the world population in some way or another. Even in the documents of Vatican II we find the understanding of the kingdom as more extensive than the church. We read: “Nevertheless, many elements of sanctification and of truth are found outside its visible confines” (LG, 8; cf. also LG 15, 16; UR, 3). The Latin words are strong. First of all, we hear elementa plura. Many, not just a few, elements are involved. Secondly, these elements are elementa plura sanctificationis et veritatis. If there is holiness beyond the confines of the church, this holiness comes from the Holy Spirit. If there is truth beyond the confines of the church, it too comes from the Spirit of truth. Again, there are not simply a few instances of holiness and truth beyond the framework of the church; there are many such instances. In the very next phrase, however, the Vatican II bishops make a strange statement: these are many elements of holiness and truth quae ut dona Ecclesiae Christi proprio, ad unitatem catholicam impellunt. One rightfully asks: are these many elements outside the framework of the church or not? These passages have engendered a large number of books and articles, which offer differing theological interpretations of this single statement.67 For centuries the Roman Catholic Church had stated that it alone possessed the fullness of holiness and truth. The

67 See Jacques Dupuis, op. cit., 84–109; Francis Sullivan, Salvation outside the Church? Tracing the History of the Catholic Response (New York: Paulist Press, 1992); Maurice Eminyan, The Theology of Salvation (Boston: St. Paul, 1960); W. Kern, Ausserhalb der Kirche kein Heil (Freiburg: Herder, 1979); T. L. Tiessen, Irenaeus on the Salvation of the Unevangelized (Meteuchen, New Jersey: Varsity Press, 2004).


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ambiguity of this section of Lumen gentium indicates that the interlacing of kingdom and church has, as yet, not been adequately measured. How does the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition help us understand the relationship of the church to kingdom? In the first place, Francis and Clare both centered their lives on the gospel and on the Holy Spirit. Both of them strove to put the message of Christ—a message of God’s kingdom—into practice. Both of them on several occasions indicated that the “Lord led them to lepers,” the Lord “gave me brothers,” and “the Lord has given me to speak and to write the Rule.” For Francis and Clare, listening to the words of the Lord spoken to us in our hearts is fundamental. As regards non-Christians, Francis wrote: As for the brothers who go [among the Saracens and other Non-Believers] they can live spiritually among the Saracens and Non-Believers in two ways. One way is not to engage in arguments or disputes but to be subject to every human creature for God’s sake and to acknowledge that they are Christians. The other way is to announce the Word of God when they see it please the Lord.68

In this Franciscan approach, the brothers simply lived among the nonChristians, but they lived in a Christian way. In their life among the non-Christians, they were preaching but without words. In their life others might see to some extent the mission and manifestation of the Spirit and the mission and manifestation of the Logos. At the same time, the brothers were able to see in the non-Christians the mission and manifestation of the Spirit, for the kingdom of God includes those who are non-Christians. The kingdom of God is, as John Paul II wrote: • the kingdom is meant for all; • liberation and salvation come through the kingdom to all peoples in both physical and spiritual dimensions (healing and forgiving); • the kingdom transforms human relationships; • the kingdom is the concern of everyone—individuals, society, and the world; • in a word, the kingdom of God is the manifestation and the realization of God’s plan of salvation in all its fullness.

The manifestation of the Spirit is broader than the manifestation of the Logos, but the mission or message of both the Logos and the Spirit is the same: a revelation of a God who is Supreme Being, bonum sui diffusivum, infinite love, and totally free. One and the same God is at the 68

Francis of Assisi, “The Earlier Rule,” Francis of Assisi: the Saint: 74.

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heart of the kingdom and at the heart of the church. The Haecceitas of the Logos is at the heart of the church; the infinite freedom of God’s Spirit is at the heart of the kingdom. The church is relational and the kingdom is relational, but they are relational within differing dimensions. The church and the kingdom are interrelated but not identical, for the relational kingdom includes created dimensions which the church does not include. The Franciscan Intellectual Tradition finds a brother and sister in the church and in the kingdom. Another contribution to this kingdom-church relationship can be found in Scotus. In the Ordinatio he writes: De primo dico quod ‘diligere Deum super omnia’ est actus conformis rectae rationi naturali, quae dictat optimum esse summe diligendum, et per consequens est actus de se rectus; immo rectitudo eius est per se nota, (sicut rectitudo primi principii in operibus). Aliquid enim summe diligendum est et nihil aliud a summo Bono, sicut non aliud a summo Vero est maxime tenendum tamquam verum apud intellectum. Confirmatur etiam istud, quia praecepta moralia sunt de lege naturae, et per consequens istud Diliges Dominum Deum tuum etc., est de lege naturae, et ita notum es hunc actum est rectum.69

In this remarkable passage, Scotus clearly states that in human nature there is a will and an intellect both of which in their own ways seek the good, even more seek the higher good and even the highest good. For Scotus this free act of the will vis-à-vis the good is an essential part of human nature. Willing the good is, therefore, part of the natural law. Original sin has not denigrated this essential potency of the will. This willing the good belongs to every man and woman, whether baptized or not. On the basis of this position, Scotus argues that every human being is drawn to God, the Summum Bonum. It is the Spirit of God who helps each person to love God, but each person individually and voluntarily loves God.70 The church is not involved. Since this love of God as Summum Bonum is part of human nature, and since loving God is inspired by the Spirit, then all men and women have a human will which seeks the good and above all the highest

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Scotus, Ordinatio, III, suppl. D. 27. Cf., Scotus, Lectura in Librum Primum Sententiarum, d. 27. In this distinction, Scotus rejects the view of Henry of Ghent and Godfrey of Fontaines. These two theologians claim that it is the Holy Spirit in us that loves God, and therefore the human soul is simply the place in which the Spirit loves. Scotus insists that loving God is an act of the human will. Distinctio 17 is centered on the Missio Sanci Spiritus. 70


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good. This is part of human nature as created by God and it remains untarnished even though sin occurred. This power to love good remains fully intact even after the sin of Adam. On this basis, we can say that Scotus provides us with a very clear description of the moral basis for the kingdom of God, namely, God’s gift of free will to each woman and man.71 There is, however, a tantalizing statement in Ad Gentes which continues to challenge the theological world: Although in ways known only to himself, God can lead those who through no fault of their own, are ignorant of the Gospel, to that faith without which it is impossible to please him (7: italics added)

This passage indicates that there is a way to salvation which no human person understands. The infinitely free God (Scotus) who is bonum sui diffusivum (Bonaventure) moves far beyond any “theology of salvation.” The perimeters of God’s kingdom outdistance the perimeters of the church. A third-millennium ecclesiology is possible only if it is constructed within the embrace of a theology of God’s kingdom. Since church and kingdom are deeply interrelated yet also deeply distinct, the development of a renewed theology of church moves in tandem with a renewed theology of God’s kingdom. The kingdom-church interrelationship and non-relationship leads us to section three: the relationship of the church and the kingdom to human history. An ecclesiology for the third millennium becomes credible when the theology of the church is not contrasted to the world in a sort of church-world dichotomy. Rather, the church is a part of the world, and the same God is present in the world as the God who is present in the church. The theological positions on creation and on kingdom are central to this third millennium ecclesiology. The presence of the kingdom, to which the church is subservient, allows us to honor those great religions which are not Jesus-centered. They are Spirit-centered, and therefore one needs to disengage the presence of the Spirit from ecclesiological connections. There are many issues on creation, on the holy Spirit, and on the gospel-centered kingdom which are integral to the Franciscan Intellectual

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For further clarification of this scotistic theme, see Allan Wolter, “Scotus’ Ethics,” Scotus and Ockham: Selected Essays St. Bonaventure, New York: Franciscan Institute Publications, 2003: 173–183; also Wolter, Duns Scotus on the Will and Morality (Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 1986).

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Tradition. These Franciscan issues can be of major help to integrated ecclesiology, kingdom, creation and the freedom of the holy Spirit.

3. Institutional and Charismatic Church Leadership In this section, institutional church leadership covers an area which is much larger than simply ordained leadership. As an institution, the church has a variety of basic structures all of which have the ministry of leading. In the Anglican, Protestant, Evangelical, Independent, Orthodox, and Roman Catholic Churches, institutional church leadership is varied and within each of these denominations, there is likewise variation. The New Testament presents us with a leadership which is variously named in its different references to Christian communities. However, the New Testament clearly presents us with the foundational leadership of God, Jesus, and the Spirit. Two names for leaders of the Jesus communities are also common throughout the New Testament, namely, the apostles and the twelve. Beyond this, no clear pattern of a common or standard naming of early ministers can be found. The apostolic and subapostolic communities do not have a common naming of their leaders.72 In the first two and three centuries of the Jesus communities, both the naming of leaders and the delineation of their respective tasks are not uniform. Only from the third century onward does a common naming of church leadership begin to take place. The common naming, bishop, priest, and deacon, slowly moved into the various and scattered Christian communities. Moreover, during this same period of time the tasks of episkopos, presbyteros, and diakonos also changed as this naming process took root. For an ecclesiology of the third millennium, institutional church leadership needs a renewal, both theologically and structurally. Four leadership groups present us with the areas in which such a renewal needs to occur.

72 In my book, Priesthood, I have assembled the names for leadership which are found in Paul, the Q Source, Matthew, John’s gospel, 2 and 3 John, 1 Peter, Luke/Acts, Colossians/Ephesians, the Pastorals, and the Book of Revelation. Other than the Twelve and Apostles, there are no common names for leadership in all of these writings. For the listing, see 42–44.


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a. Ordained Church Leadership Since Vatican II If I were to ask a Catholic bishop, priest, or deacon: “Are you a bishop?” “Are you a priest?” “Are you a deacon?” their answer might be: “Yes, I am a bishop.” Or “Yes, I am a priest.” Or “Yes, I am a deacon.” On a day-to-day level, such answers are adequate. From a more precise theological level, their answers are not quite correct. Based on the teaching of Lumen gentium, which states that all church ministry is a sharing in the ministry of Jesus himself, the answer would be better stated in the following way: “I am a sacrament of Jesus, the Bishop.” Or “I am a sacrament of Jesus, the Priest.” Or “I am a sacrament of Jesus, the Deacon.” The same could be said regarding the names of leadership in other Christian Churches, such as patriarch, pastor, elder, etc. In these cases, an individual is a sacrament of Jesus the patriarch, or Jesus the pastor, or Jesus the elder. In these answers an ordained leader indicates that his or her leadership is a reflection or a sacrament of Jesus’ own ministerial leadership. However, even the above answers could be further refined by stressing the uniqueness of Jesus. The answers then become: “I am a sacrament of Jesus, the one Bishop.” “I am a sacrament of Jesus, the one Patriarch.” “I am a sacrament of Jesus, the one Priest.” “I am the sacrament of Jesus, the one Pastor.” “I am a sacrament of Jesus, the one Deacon.” “I am the sacrament of Jesus, the one Elder.” In other words, their leadership is essentially derivative and sacramental. Institutional ordained ministers share in Jesus’ own ministry and mission. Church leaders do not have “their own” ministry and mission, for Jesus alone is truly the one and only bishop, priest, deacon, etc. Church leaders are sacraments of the one leader, Jesus.73

73 In many documents of Vatican II, it is noteworthy to see how often the word “share” is used when these documents speak of institutional ministry in the church. See K. Osborne, The Permanent Diaconate: Its History and Place in the Sacrament of Orders (New York, Paulist Press, 2007. I delineate the five major changes in ministry which the conciliar documents make. I draw this conclusion: “A summary of the first major change in institutional ministry and leadership made by the conciliar bishops leads us to the following conclusions. From the texts of Vatican II, we hear that the foundation for all mission and ministry in the church lies first of all in God’s sending of Jesus himself. Second, the texts state unequivocally that the foundation for every mission and ministry in the church lies in Jesus’ own mission and ministry. We hear, finally, that that the foundation for all mission and ministry in the church lies in the common sharing of the mission and ministry of Jesus by all baptized and confirmed Christians.” Throughout these changes the term share appears again and again.

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Let me take the issue of ministerial self-identification one step further, but it is a major step. The answers cited above, if they wish to be truly accurate, should be restated as follows: “I believe that I am a sacrament of the one bishop, Jesus.” “I believe that I am a sacrament of the one patriarch, Jesus.” “I believe that I am a sacrament of the one priest, Jesus.” “I believe that I am a sacrament of the one elder, Jesus.”

The addition of the phrase: “I believe” is absolutely basic. Whenever a bishop, patriarch, pastor, priest, elder, or deacon bypasses the issue of faith—in other words being a bishop, priest, or deacon no longer includes personal faith—then his leadership has become a career leadership much like that of a business executive. The CEO of a corporation does not say: “I believe that I am the Chief Executive Officer.” The CEO simply is the leader of the corporation. Whenever faith does not dominate episcopacy, patriarchy, priesthood, diaconate, etc., there remains only a secular career and a secular self-identity. Institutional ministers in the church must live in and through their spirituality, and this means through their faith in God, Jesus, and the holy Spirit. These men and women are not simply institutional ministers such as one finds in the economic world. They are above all spiritual institutional leaders. Their daily prayer can be summed up by paraphrasing Peter’s words: “I do believe that I am a bishop, patriarch, etc., make firm my unbelief.” If these leaders, in and through their sacramental spirituality, try to serve the people of God in ways which reflect Jesus, their ministry will truly be a channel of God’s compassionate love. If ordained ministers basically act in virtue of their power alone—I am the bishop! I am the pastor! I am the priest! I am the elder! I am the deacon!—the “job” might get done, but the gospel will not be preached in and through the “job.” In the Church of Christ, an institutional, non-spiritual man or woman is an oxymoron. Over the centuries and in every church denomination, there have been institutional leaders who have seriously hurt others by condemnatory, harsh, and arrogant behavior. Over the centuries, however, the churches have also had an abundance of Christ-like ministers. A renewal of ecclesiology in the third millennium must strive to make Jesus’ own ministry the benchmark for all ordained and institutional ministry.74

74 In chapter six of my book, The Permanent Diaconate, I have delineated the theological changes concerning Holy Orders as found in the documents of Vatican II. No longer is the scholastic view of priest and bishop the ordinary teaching of the


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Paul Bradshaw has presented a lengthy essay on the history of ordination in the Christian Church; he has also authored a book which includes English translations of all the early ordination rituals of the Christian Church. To these translations, Bradshaw has also provided a commentary on their value and their influence.75 Sharon L. McMillan’s volume, Episcopal Ordination and Ecclesial Consensus, provides a detailed investigation of the changes in episcopal ordinations in the middle ages.76 James Puglisi’s three volumes, The Process of Admission to Ordained Ministry: A Comparative Study, consider ordination rituals for all denominations of the Christian Church.77 Historical studies such as these indicate that a renewed theology of ordained church leadership should be part of the contemporary effort to revitalize ecclesiology. In all of these authors, the role of the community in selecting their ordained leadership is emphasized. Centralized appointing of bishops is not and should not be part of the renewal of ecclesiology. In the early Franciscan community of brothers, ordained and nonordained brothers lived together under the guidance of Francis of Assisi, a lay person. Priests were respected because of their calling to sacramental leadership, but in the Franciscan brotherhood there was, in those early days, an equality of life. This respect for all and a respect for the ordained were based once again on the gift of God which each person truly is. For Francis, one of his friars might be ordained, but the man was above all a Brother Priest. For Francis, one of his friars might not be ordained, but the man was above all a Brother Layman. In the eyes of God, we are all brothers and sisters of one another. This familial relationship provides a deep spiritual understanding of what the Vatican II bishops called the people of God. In other words, in the eyes of God baptism-confirmation is far more important than ordination. Through baptism-confirmation, a person becomes a true child of God; through ordination, the church has a servant leadership,

church. The citation from Bishop Marty indicates that in today’s ordinary teaching of the church, the tria munera theology of ministry is central. This means that a theology of priesthood based on sacramental power in the eucharist and in reconciliation is no longer the official Catholic approach. 75 Paul Bradshaw et al., “Ordination,” The New Westminster Dictionary of Liturgy and Worship, (London: SCM Press, 2002): 342–359; also Paul Bradshaw, Ordination Rites of the Ancient Churches of East and West (New York: Pueblo, 1990). 76 Sharon L. McMillan, Episcopal Ordination and Ecclesial Consensus (Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 2005). 77 James Puglisi, The Process of Admission to Ordained Ministry (Collegeville, Minnesota: Liturgical Press, 1996–2001).

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whose main objective is to deepen the Christian community in its role as people of God. b. Lay Church Leadership Since Vatican II Lay leadership has been part of the Christian Church from its beginnings. Whether the apostles were ordained remains an open question. Whether other leaders mentioned in the New Testament were ordained is also an open question. The first extant ordination ritual dates from the early decades of the third century, as found in the Apostolic Tradition often ascribed to Hippolytus (ca, 170–236). B. Dupuis notes: “How someone in the early Church is called to ecclesial ministry is not described in the New Testament, so that theories relative to ordination have in part a hypothetical quality about them.”78 The division of church leadership into the two categories of ordained and lay became dominant only with Gratian in the twelfth century.79 In the Roman Catholic Church the lay-cleric format has dominated ecclesiology from the twelfth century to Vatican II. In the Anglican and Protestant Churches, lay ecclesial leadership has been encouraged abundantly from the sixteenth century on. In the Orthodox Churches the role of lay people has been very strong in its theological leadership and the role of monks has also been very strong in its spiritual leadership. The emphasis in Vatican II on lay leadership is, consequently, not something new. However, the conciliar bishops did re-emphasize a part of ecclesial leadership which had been muzzled, to some extent, through the dominance of an ecclesiology based on the distinction of lay-cleric. In chapter four of Lumen gentium and in Apostolicam actuositatem, one finds a major change in Roman Catholic Church leadership which the bishops at Vatican II instituted. Lay men and women today are called on to be official leaders in the church, and they have done this in multiple ways. Even though the Vatican II documents deliberately call this emphasis on lay ministry “the apostolate of the laity”—which was a phrase in wide use prior to Vatican II—the contemporary Catholic Church in the post-Vatican II period uses the phrase, lay ministry, with 78

Bernard Dupuis, “Theologie der kirchlichen Ämpter,” Mysterium Salutis (Einsiedeln: Benziger, 1973) 4/2: 505. 79 For an understanding of the church with four categories of membership, namely, lay, ordained, imperial, and religious, see Osborne, Ministry, 184–216.


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abandon. In most other Christian Churches, an official ministry of lay men and lay women has been a major component of their institutional ministry. It should be noted that, strictly speaking, the phrase, lay ministry, refers to a different ministry than the ministry of the people of God which one finds in chapter two of Lumen gentium. In chapter two, there is no distinction between hierarchy and laity. All baptized and confirmed Christians share in the tria munera in an equal way. The ministry of the baptized is a sharing in ecclesial leadership which is foundational for all other ministerial leadership in the church. A distinction of ministry into hierarchical and lay makes no sense at all if it is not based on the common priesthood of all believers. However, not all theologians who comment on the conciliar documents make this distinction. Not all official documents from the Vatican make this distinction. Too often, today, the phrase, “people of God” refers to the “lay people,” but this was not the intent of the conciliar bishops. People of God is a phrase which refers to all baptized and confirmed. All baptized and confirmed Christians share equally in the tria munera of Jesus’ own ministry. In this theological view, there is no lay-hierarchical distinction at all. Thus, the ministry of all baptized is different from the ministry which one calls “lay ministry.” The involvement of women in the leadership of the church is of major concern today. The efforts of Feminist Theology have altered the presence of women within the churches. However, a serious task for the renewal of ecclesiology in the third millennium is to further in an insistent and consistent way a greater involvement of women in church leadership. The inequality of women in the church is not a feminine problem; rather, it is a God problem.80 A similar task for the renewal of ecclesiology involves the globalized multicultural membership of the Christian Churches. Much has been accomplished in this regard, yet more needs to done. The dimensions of tokenism, racism, and even white supremacy stand in opposition to the gospel of Jesus. Sometimes these dimensions are in the ecclesial subconscious; at other times, however, these dimensions play a significant role as church leaders arrive at their decisions.81

80 81

See Osborne, Orders and Ministry, 146–151. Ibid., 151–155.

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In today’s Christian Churches, a presence of lay ecclesial leadership has already become a central part of the renewal of ecclesiology. In the third millennium church, local parishes, communidades de base, dioceses, national church activities, and international church structures already include lay men and women in ways that our grandparents never dreamed of. Contemporary church life has been blessed by the talents, insights, and leadership which these women and men bring to the table. The presence of lay ministry in the renewed ecclesiologies of the third millennium is a gift from the holy Spirit. Their presence in church leadership is denominationally is central to ecclesiology as such. Naturally, there are problems. Changes in leadership always entail difficulties. There are issues of bruised self-identities, of turf-wars, and of insufficient compensation for services offered, of sexual and gender disparity, etc. For the Roman Catholic Church, this burgeoning of lay leadership has been sudden and jarring. In a post-conciliar church world, there are always major divisions and struggles. The Council of Chalcedon was held in 451. The furor over the issues adopted by this council was not laid to rest until the Third Council of Constantinople in 681, an interval of two-hundred and thirty years! The decrees and programs of the Council of Trent (1545–1563) were slowly implemented. Implementation in some areas depended on the acceptance of the Tridentine decrees by the secular powers, and this secular acceptance took decades before becoming legitimate. The essay by Daniele Menozzi, “Opposition to the Council (1966–1984),” indicates that a post-Vatican II church will continue to have its own time of turmoil.82 In many ways, the Franciscan movement was exaltation of the baptized Christian and of the lay man and lay woman. A leper, for instance, might be male or female, but for Francis he was “Brother Leper” and she was “Sister Leper.” All human beings were honored since they were children of the one Father, God. In reading the gospels, Francis and Clare realized that God’s love and care extended to each individual. The Haecceitas of Scotus provided a theological honoring of each individual. Bonaventure’s view that every human being was an Imago Dei also gave a theological substructure to the dignity of every individual. In the Franciscan approach, God created individuals not

82 Daniele Menozzi, “Opposition to the Council (1966–84),” The Reception of Vatican II: 325–348.


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human natures. Being a created individual, one was a daughter or son of the Creator God. The consequences of this approach for ecclesiology are powerful. God speaks through each individual, or as I have mentioned again and again, God is manifested in each individual. To honor the individual is to honor God; to listen to the individual is, at times, a listening to the message of God. Each individual is a messenger from God, and in the church these messages deserve one’s attention. c. Charismatic Leadership in the Church Since Vatican II The Christian Church, in all its denominations, enjoys both institutional leadership and charismatic leadership. In the interventions by bishops at Vatican II, the charismatic aspects of ecclesiology have been noted again and again. One finds this emphasis in the second chapter of Lumen gentium on the people of God, “Whether these charisms be very remarkable or more simple and widely diffused, they are to be received with thanksgiving and consolation since they are primarily suited to and useful for the needs of the church” (LG 12; see AG 4; AA 30). On the other hand, the documents make it clear that charismas need to be “guided” by the institutional leadership of the church (LG 7 and 12; AA 4). Hermes of Rome, Alice of Smyrna, Anthony of Egypt, Priscilla, Maximilla, Thecla, and Boethius were major charismatic leaders in the early church. Francis and Clare of Assisi were charismatic leaders in the medieval church. John Wesley and Dietrich Bonhöffer could also be named along with thousands of other major charismatic Christian individuals. Dorothy Day and Mother Theresa also represent charismatic leadership. That charismatic leadership is and has been a major part of ecclesiology is a given. Generally speaking, charismatic leadership is praised and honored by institutional ecclesial leadership. The main problem for a third millennium ecclesiology is the relationship between institutional and charismatic leader. An ecclesiology which insists on institutional control of the charismatic movements within the church is moving in the wrong direction. A diagram might help. In the diagram which follows I am emphasizing a relationship of the institutional and charismatic elements in the church which should not be followed.

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↓ / \ THE MISSION AND MINISTRY — THE MISSION AND MINISTRY OF THE LOGOS OF THE SPIRIT \ / ↓ THE INSTITUTIONAL LEADERSHIP OF THE CHURCH ↓ THE CHARISMATIC LEADERSHIP OF THE CHURCH

In this diagram, the institutional leadership in many ways “controls” ecclesial charismatic leadership. Unfortunately, this institutional control has been operative at times in Anglican, Protestant, Orthodox, and Roman Catholic Churches. A second diagram presents a relationship between institutional and charismatic church leadership in a different way. In this diagram, the mission and ministry of Jesus and the mission and ministry of the Spirit are the “controlling” factors. There has been and will remain tension between the institutional and the charismatic dimensions of church leadership. The ways in which this tension is alleviated cannot be accomplished by the dominance of one over the other. Rather, in the give-and-take of these two forms of ecclesial leadership, the guiding principle remains the missions and manifestations of both Logos and Spirit. Both charismatic and institutional leaders need to defer to the basic issue: the church has no light of its own. There is church only when it reflects Jesus the Light of the World and the Spirit whose presence can be found throughout all of creation. Both Francis and Clare were charismatic Christians. The Franciscan movement itself was a movement of major charismatic dimensions. From 1000 ce onward, lay people and clerics clamored for a renewal of the church in head and members. The Franciscan movement was a part of this long history of Christians calling from ecclesial reform. Most of those who advocated ecclesial reform did so as charismatic leaders, and the early Franciscans, both men and women, were no different.


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GOD SENDING ↓ / \ THE MISSION AND MINISTRY — THE MISSION AND MINISTRY OF THE LOGOS OF THE SPIRIT ↓ / THE INSTITUTIONAL LEADERSHIP OF THE CHURCH

←

\ THE CHARISMATIC LEADERSHIP ↔

→

OF THE CHURCH

At the Vatican II council, major bishops spoke eloquently about charismatic leadership. Some of their urging can be found in the conciliar documents. However, one also finds in the same conciliar documents a clerical control of charismatic leadership. In the third millennium, the renewal of ecclesiology needs to provide far more importance and freedom for the charismatic dimension of Christian life. The credibility of the church today might easily depend on the way in which institutional leaders in the future welcome the charismatic dimension of so many people of God. This issue leads to another part of church leadership which in theology is often set to one side, namely, religious life. d. Religious Communities in a Post-Vatican II Church A major reason for an emphasis on the charismatic leadership and its role in a third millennium ecclesiology is the current official approach in the Roman Catholic Church vis-à-vis religious life. In chapter four of Lumen gentium, which focuses on special lay ministries, members of religious groups were specifically set to one side (LG 31). Chapter six does focus on religious life, but basically in and through its connection to chapter five on the universal call to holiness. Rarely, in contemporary theological literature, is the institutional leadership of religious communities even mentioned. However, official religious communities, e.g., Benedictine, Franciscans, Jesuits, etc., do indeed possess institutional leadership within the church. Anglican religious

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communities do the same. Protestant religious communities, such as the community in Taize, do likewise. In a very strong way, religious communities of monks have had an active institutional leadership role in the Orthodox Churches. In the first two millennia of church history, the majority of religious were lay people. Not until the Carolingian Reformation was an effort made to “clericalize” western male religious communities. In the ecumenical world of the third millennium, religious communities have and have had even before the new millennium a major leadership role. Their experience at lay leadership in schools, hospitals, prisons, homes for the poor, meals for the hungry, etc., cannot be simply set aside, as LG 4, 31 does: “The term laity is here understood to mean all the faithful except those in holy Orders and those who belong to a religious state approved by the church”. In excluding the lay ministerial experience of religious men and women who maintain the institutions mentioned above, the bishops also excluded the experience of thousands of nonreligious lay men and women who work in these same institutions. If one wants to speak about and learn from the history of lay involvement in the church, the spirituality and expertise of these men and women, religious and non-religious, cannot be summarily set to one side. The documents of Vatican II, which do not focus on this extensive historical data regarding lay ministry, seem to indicate that the conciliar bishops were doing something absolutely unprecedented as regards lay ministry. However, there have been and are many precedents for lay institutional leadership in the church by religious communities throughout its entire history. A second reason for my emphasis on this history of lay involvement under the auspices of religious life has to do with the hierarchical oversight of religious communities. From the beginnings of early monastic and eremitical life, bishops have struggled to control “religious” men and women. There never has been nor is there today a mutually accepted agreement on the role of the episcopacy on the one hand and the independence of religious communities on the other. In the Roman Catholic Church since Vatican I, this struggle over “control” has been almost exclusively a matter of canon law. Canonicity, even today, bypasses the basic theological elements in religious life as also the basic charismatic elements in religious life. Through canon law and other legal document, the ordained ministry imposes its dominance over theological and spiritual values as well as over charismatic leadership


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found in these religious communities. This is clearly an issue which a third millennium ecclesiology needs to rectify. Francis and Clare in many ways are prime examples of a gospeloriented eagerness to live in a “religious community.” Rarely, do these two saints express themselves as follows: “Church leadership says . . .” More often than not, their expression is: “The gospel says . . .” Francis and Clare were not anti-church-leadership. Nonetheless, both understood the church as fundamentally centered in Jesus and the gospels, not in institutional hierarchy. They are major examples of the charismatic dimension of the church with its own independence on the one hand and its dependence on Jesus and the holy Spirit on the other hand. They are also major examples of institutional church leadership by a religious community. The major male religious groups in the history of the Western Catholic Church, such as the Benedictines, the Franciscans, the Jesuits, the Salesians, and the Christian Brothers, as well as countless groups of women religious, have always exerted an independence which stems from the charism of their founders and foundresses. The Vatican II document, Perfectae caritatis, which focuses on religious life and its contemporary renewal, has both exemplary passages and also complicating passages. The emphasis on chastity, poverty, and obedience (PC 1, 12–14) makes the three vows central to religious life. In doing this, the impression is giving that all religious communities are basically the same, and the charism of their founders and foundresses is simply an “add on.” Nonetheless, the document also stresses that the particular charism of each group (PC 2, 7, 9) is foundational. The document emphasizes the adequacy of a religious community to address its own problems and its own apostolate. On the other hand, the document indicates that the Holy See has a final say (PC 4, 14, 21, 22, 23, and 24). In Perfectae caritatis one sees a back-and-forth movement. In this document we clearly see the problem of ordained leadership’s attempt to be the benchmark and overseer of both institutional lay church leadership and institutional charismatic church leadership. In today’s Christian communities, an ambiguity and even tension between religious life on the one hand and institutional ordained leadership of the church on the other hand is evident. If a third-millennium renewed ecclesiology is overly hierarchical, it will not meet the needs of today’s world. If a third-millennium renewed ecclesiology is overly charismatic, it, too, will not meet the needs of today’s world.

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A third millennium renewed ecclesiology must have room for both. It is the gospel which centers ecclesiology; the institutional ordained church leadership does not center ecclesiology nor does charismatic church leadership center ecclesiology. That there is a tension involving ordained, lay, charismatic, and religious community leadership roles is a given. Each of these institutional leadership groups needs to support the other, and each needs be critical of the others. It is this interrelationship of the various institutional leadership groups which highlights a fundamental dimension of ecclesiology: the church is always an ecclesia semper reformanda. In the Franciscan tradition, charismatic qualities have been present from its birth. Francis himself was a remarkably charismatic person. Clare, even though cloistered, was a woman who in a charismatic way influenced both the women and the men of her times. Often, in the history of the western church, since the times of Francis and Clare, there were strong Franciscan charismatic forces which challenged the institutional forces of those times. Most often, Francis and Clare, and then the other Franciscan leaders who lived after they had died, found the source of this charismatic energy in the gospels themselves. These women and men were not religious fanatics; they were strongly attempting to put the gospel of Jesus into their daily lives. Institutional church leadership and structures can at times become self-serving, not gospel-serving. The Franciscan movement was one of many reform movements from 1000 to 1600. Since the time of Francis and Clare, not only the Catholic Church has been blessed by the Franciscan charisms, but many non-Catholic Christians find in Francis and Clare a mirror of the gospel. Even non-Christians honor Francis and Clare and all that they stood for. Once again, I am arguing that the Franciscan tradition can be of major help in the efforts to renew and even reform the ecclesiologies of the Christian Churches. Naturally, the Franciscan approach is not the final and perfecting answer to the issues which need reform; but the Franciscan approach can certainly provide solid standing for a church that seems to be, today, on the verge of collapse.

4. Concluding Observations At the conclusion of this volume, one could easily say that I have not provided a full ecclesiology for the new millennium. My intention, however, was not to provide a complete and minutely detailed theology of


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the church. Rather, what I have tried to do is to offer some foundational issues which, in my view, will truly help in constructing a contemporary ecclesiology. These foundational issues reflect the Franciscan Intellectual Tradition. On the basis of these foundational issues, it is my hope that a more credible ecclesiology can slowly be constructed. What are these foundations issues? In my response to this question, I simply wish to summarize the key material which I have detailed at length in the various chapters of this book. • Today, one must have a solid appreciation of the several theologies of church which developed from the time of the Reformation and Council of Trent down to the middle of the twentieth century. One can hardly begin to renew a given ecclesiology unless one understands the ecclesiology which needs to be renewed. One should understand both the strengths and the weaknesses of these earlier systematic ecclesiologies. The strengths will be preserved in one way or another and the weaknesses will be minimized. In chapter three, I have presented this historical foundation of ecclesiology, but it is only a foundation. A renewed ecclesiology can only be built on such a foundation. • Philosophical issues are part and parcel of every theology and of every ecclesiology. In the history of ecclesiology, the philosophical foundation has at times been spelled out clearly. At other times, however, the philosophical foundation is presupposed. Philosophical issues are by their very nature mutable, since there is no one philosophy which has determined all others. For a renewal of ecclesiology, the philosophical issues need to be clearly delineated. Ecclesial positions based on philosophy can and at times should be changed. In chapter four, I presented my approach to Franciscan philosophy. I also indicated that the Franciscan approach to philosophy has been taken up by many contemporary philosophers and theologians. The Franciscan philosophical approach, with modifications, seems to dovetail far more carefully with contemporary science, globalization, and multi-culturalism than either the usual Euro-American philosophy (Descartes, Kant, and Hegel) or the usual scholastic philosophy based on Thomism which has dominated the Catholic world since the beginning of the 1800s. • Since a theology of God provides the basis of all other theological endeavors, I have presented in chapter five a detailed account of the Franciscan theology on the Trinitarian God, as found in Francis and

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Clare and in Bonaventure and Scotus. No theology of God is totally convincing. However, one of the major reasons why Christianity today is losing ground stems from the standard presentation of church by the Christian world together with their respective theologies of God. Mention was made of various criteria from the New Testament which served and serves as the canon within the canon for many of today’s Christian Churches. In this “canon within the canon” ecclesiology, the theology of church begins to determine the theology of God. In the thirteenth century, many people who were disenchanted by the church of that era found credibility in the Franciscan understanding of God. The Franciscan movement became enormously popular because of its theology of God. Francis and Clare, Bonaventure and Scotus, as well as all the other Franciscan theologians of the Middle Ages, presented a God who is active throughout the word and profoundly present in every creature. This presence of God clearly indicates that God’s presence is active outside the boundaries of the church. Bonaventure’s teaching on vestigium, imago, and similitudo provides us with a universe-wide understanding of God’s activity throughout the created world. Scotus’ teaching on the infinite freedom of God disallows any and every church or religion from domesticating God. I suggest that the Franciscan understanding of God, with modifications, speaks more readily to today’s generations. If this theology of God is accepted, however, it will shape and color all other subaltern sections of theological thought. A renewal of ecclesiology cannot take place in a major way unless there is a prior renewal of a theology of God. A renewal of a theology of God will then shape and color a renewal of ecclesiology. • In the contemporary quantum world, creation has become problematic. Today, we know a great deal about human history, but we have few details about the billions of years during which our cosmos has existed. When Christians speak about a plan of God from creation onward and place the beginning of God’s plan some fifteen billion years ago, their words appear to be more ideological than actual. In actuality, no one today has any inkling regarding God’s plan for the entire cosmos. What we do have is an insight into God’s plan for human history. Human history is an area that centers much of Franciscan philosophy and theology, and it does so in an integral way. The initial stages of human history and even a slightly pre-human history


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include not only the creative actio ad extra of God but also two other actiones ad extra of God, the missio and manifestatio of the Logos and the missio and manifestatio of the Spirit. It is the Franciscan theology of a Trinitarian God which shapes these three contingent actiones ad extra of God into one. This tri-unity of creation-Jesus-Spirit has major ramifications on ecclesiology, particularly in the theological discussion of salvation. The major issues of multi-culturalism and of interreligious dialogue are deeply affected by the same Franciscan approach. In the Franciscan approach, one might speak of an incarnational creation or creational incarnation. One might also speak of a Spirit-filled creation or a creational Spirit-filled world. No matter what the words are, the Franciscan tradition which unites creationJesus-Spirit preserves a Christian tradition which is found in the New Testament itself. To understand this tri-partite una actio ad extra of God, a changed understanding of the church-kingdom issue needs to take place. A renewed ecclesiology will exhibit its deep relationship to the kingdom of God, and the church will be seen more clearly as subservient to the kingdom, not vice versa. • In the Franciscan literature, there is also a major exaltation of the individual human person, an Haecceitas (Scotus), no matter if the individual is Christian or not. This respect for each human person brings about a breaking of boundaries, for the boundaries of the church and the boundaries of the kingdom are not the same. The church has its unity and unicity; the kingdom has its unity and unicity. In the kingdom of God, each individual, Haecceitas, is a brother and sister and deserves to be honored and respected. Breaking boundaries is part and parcel of the gospel message preached by Jesus both in his words and in his actions. A renewed ecclesiology will contain this gospel message: one cannot be a follower of Jesus unless boundaries at times are broken. • Salvation is a theological subject that has diverse meanings. There is no defined teaching by the Roman Catholic Church on the issue of salvation. Nonetheless, the issue of salvation has divided Christian Churches in the past and continues to do so today. In a pronounced way, the issue of salvation divides Christianity from other world religions. For Bonaventure the meaning of salvation can only be realized at the end of the creative process, and therefore we have no idea at this present moment what the end might involve. In the Roman Catholic Church and in many other Christian Churches

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as well, the claim of salvation in and through the church too often provides a sense of power and control to church leadership. Even more disturbing and even dangerous is the presence of a good-work Christology in many churches. Jesus, a human, had to do something so that God could give us the gift of salvation. What is needed is an understanding of salvation as a freely given grace from God and as a grace given to whomever God wishes to give it. What is also needed is the realization that in God’s plan salvation is the culmination, not a reality which we can define while we are still in process. We look to the future, but the reality of the future in its details eludes us. • Ecclesial leadership is multi-dimensional, and institutional leadership is only one aspect of church leadership. Nor is ecclesial leadership the center of ecclesiology. In the Catholic ecclesiologies from 1800 onward, the authors began with the institution of the church by Jesus, which included the establishment of Peter as the first pope and the apostles as the first bishops. This blueprint ecclesiology has no verification in the New Testament. In actuality, the “institution of the hierarchy” is a secondary issue in ecclesiology. In the chapters above, we have seen that the primary center is clearly the relational God and God’s actions ad intra and ad extra. Moreover, Jesus, the incarnate Logos, is at the center of the Christian community. The ecclesial hierarchy is not the center of the church. The Spirit of God manifest in the churches is also a centralizing reality. Institutional or hierarchical leadership and charismatic leadership are issues which presuppose all these other central realities. Moreover, in the renewal of ecclesiology institutional and charismatic church leadership need to be placed on an equal level within church structures. Moreover, lay leadership and ordained leadership have their own dimensions which should be more deeply respected. At certain times and in certain situations, lay leadership has preeminence and at other times in other situations ordained leadership has preeminence. Only a church which continually reflects the light of Jesus, the servant leader, will find a balance in its multiple forms of leadership. To reflect Jesus means that church leadership of any and all varieties washes the feet of one another and it also means that all varieties of church leadership exist to serve and not be served. • For two hundred years the call to renewal of the church has been made. This call comes basically from the holy Spirit. The response of Christians over these years has been somewhat slow. The ecumenical


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movement which began in the early decades of the twentieth century remains one of the most powerful engines moving this ecclesial renewal. Vatican II can also be seen a strong engine which has promoted ecclesial renewal. Interreligious dialogues have challenged many claims made by the Christian communities and these dialogues have also provided major momentum for ecclesial change. • In all of the above issues, relationality plays a major role. If the Christian Communities wish to dialogue with contemporary science, then a relational approach to all created realities, including the church, must be on the table. I have called the presence of quantum mechanics and the age of the cosmos the elephant in the parlor. We can no longer ignore the elephant, but if church people begin to dialogue with science, then the issue of relationality cannot be avoided. On this issue, the Christian Communities have taken only a few first steps; many more need to be taken. Since the church is a mystery because of Jesus the Light of the World, and since the church has no light of its own, and since the church is actually only when it reflects Jesus, I want the final words of this volume to be a repetition of what was written at the end of the preface. All the warm nights sleep in the moonlight. Keep letting it go into you. Do this all your life and you will shine outward in your old age. The moon will think: You are the moon. A Prayer from the Cree Nation

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SUBJECT INDEX

Age of the world and Christian theology, 36–44 Anglican Intellectual Traditions, 14–16, 26–28, 80–86 Apologetics, 98–105, 202–203, 365 Apostolic succession, 46, 106–122 Aristotelianism, 31–34, 48, 54, 114–115, 133, 136n14, 141–144, 159–160, 168, 182, 228–230 Augustinian Intellectual Tradition, 8–10, 58–59, 204–207 Being, 137, 269–271 Bishops, 57–60, 106–122 Book of Creation, 249–255 Book of Scripture, 249, 255–257 Book of our inner life, 249, 257–259 Canon law, 122–123 Charismatic Ministry, 421–426 Church as sacrament, 9, 83–88 Church in scholastic period, 60–62 Church and state, 103–104, 119–120, 126 Contemporary research of early church ministry, 3, 6, 20–23, 57–60, 138–139, 191–192, 382–393 Contemporary science and the church, 3, 6, 36–44, 428–429 Contingency: diachronic and synchronic, 54–55, 180–189 Council of Chalcedon, 420 Council of Constantinople I, 281 Council of Constantinople III, 420 Council of Nicaea, 6, 281 Council of Trent, 1, 62, 98, 101, 301–315 420 Creation, 283–293

Franciscan Intellectual Tradition, x–xi, 12–114 Freedom, 180–190, 234–248 Globalization, 3, 30, 113, 121–122, 125, 272–274, 331–340 Good work Christology, 305–316, 317–320, 368 Haecceitas, 340–344, 367, 429 History of systematic ecclesiology, 53–57, 62–68, 88–98 Holy Spirit, 263–266, 397–414, 421–426 Infinity, 165–180, 234–248 Image of God, 253–254 Immutable teaching and theological positions, 53–54 Institutional ministry, 414–421, 430 Inter-religions dialogues, 5, 28–30, 127, 274–277, 330, 331–340 Isness, 160–165 Kingdom of God, 397–414 Liberation theology of Central and South America, 5 Liberation theology of African nations, 5, 29, 34–35, 50, 116 Liberation theology of Asian nations, 4–5, 29, 34–35, 50, 56, 60–61, 116 Libri IV Sententiarum, 1, 60–61 Liminal being, 157–160 Merit, 301–315 Multi-culturalism, 3, 30–36, 121–122, 125, 331–340, 368 Mystical Body, 67, 86–87, 126

Dominican Intellectual Tradition, 10–11, 61, 204–207

Necessity and freedom, 180–189 Nouvelle théologie, 3, 72, 75–76

Eastern Churches’ Intellectual Traditions, 16–18, 24–26, 72–80 Emanation and Illumination, 259–261 Existentialism, 114–115, 132, 161

Original Sin, 284, 349–358, 364 Papal infallibility, 70–103 Philosophy and theology, 277–278, 427

442

subject index

Platonism, 114–115 Postmodern philosophy, 5, 44–49, 271–274 Protestant Theological Traditions, 14–16, 26–28, 65–66, 80–86 Redemption, see Salvation Reformation, 56–57, 62–65 Relational ecclesiology, xv, 266–271 Relationality, 131–132, 195, 210–236, 243–246, 431 Religious Orders in the Church, 423–426 Renewal of Ecclesiology, 2–7, 65–67 Revelation, 15, 135, 199–201, 241–243, 247–248, 366

Systematic theology, 1, 53, 365 Third Millennium, 7, 19–20, 49–51, 369, 371–374 Theocentrism and Christocentrism, 261–263, 344–346 Theology of sin and evil, 346–358 Transcendentals, 162–165 Trinity in Church History, 204–210, 279–282 Trinity in Augustine and Thomas Aquinas, 205–207, 217–219 Trinity in Bonaventure, 209–248 Trinity in Richard of St. Victor, 207–209 Univocity of being, 147–157

Salvation, 293–320, 325–329, 358–365, 429–450 Scotism, 130–135 Self-moving being, 189–194 Similitude of God, 254–255 Standard, dominant, and operative ecclesiology, 2, 53, 67–68, 88–98, 124–125, 195 Subaltern theologies, x, 11, 124, 374–397, 427–428

Vatican Council I, 68–71 Vatican Council II, 55–56, 73, 76, 86–88, 96, 105–106, 117–119, 318–320, 373, 383, 410, 415–418, 420–424, 431 Vestige of God, 13, 251–253 Women in the Church, 6, 120–121, 125 World Council of Churches, 4, 81–82

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