Initially, I thought this was intellectual taffy-yanking...

...then I thought, "Ok, this makes sense."

I'm as big a fan of obscure intellectual movements as the next guy, but I don't think that people self-consciously identify as "Gnostic."

But they certainly do the Gnostic thing.

//Gnosticism’s iconoclastic streak throughout history is apropos. Iconoclasm literally means “to break images.” Images, in their original Greek progeny, are phantasmic, as in, they are something mentally or psychologically induced taking projected form. Of course, for the Gnostic, what is mentally or psychologically induced is the only sort of reality that matters.

Here’s the kicker. As I become woke to my imprisonment in the external, dark world order, reality transfers from the outside to the inside. My engagement with reality evolves from a posture of reception to a posture of projection. Where before I might see a particular human being as a unique, independent entity sharing a humanity with me—Christians call that my “neighbor”—now I project onto him my newly “woke” imaging. Everything outside of me now becomes a projection of internal phantasms, characters, and symbols in my own psycho-drama.

The bottom line is that, once woke, you see the world in symbolic, iconic idioms, icons deserving destruction. Thus iconoclasm. A simple shop in an inner city becomes a symbol of the system of capitalistic oppression, deserving of riotous destruction. A police officer becomes a symbol of white privilege, justly murdered in an effort to break free from oppression.

A soldier becomes a symbol of American colonialism, rightly spit upon. Donald Trump symbolizes the patriarchy keeping women down. Republicans become symbols of all that is evil, the archons ruling the world, who will keep us all in chains unless destroyed. Language must be deconstructed, by violent legal fiat if need be. As icons of a hopelessly corrupt world oppressing me, it all must be iconoclastically broken. Violence is salvific.//

I don't doubt that as many Catholics share the same heretical opinions as Evangelicals....

...but at least Catholics can say they are wrong and that it is not a matter of private interpretation.

To be fair, though, I think 90% of Catholics and Protestants would say, "what does it matter?"

//But there is significant confusion about the equality of the persons of the Holy Trinity—and even whether some of them are persons at all. A significant majority said that Jesus is fully God and fully man (85 percent), but that number is surprisingly smaller than the high nineties expressing trust in the resurrection. What is worse, an astounding 71 percent of Evangelicals said they believe Jesus is a created being (“Jesus is the first and greatest creature created by God”). That is a significantly higher number than the 16 percent who said the same in the previous study, so perhaps we can attribute some of the confusion to misunderstanding the question.

But confusion doesn’t seem to be behind widespread heresy regarding the Holy Trinity. A majority of Evangelicals deny the personhood of the Holy Spirit, with 56 percent saying he is a “divine force but not a personal being.” That’s slightly worse than the previous study, when only 51 percent of self-identified Evangelicals said the same. Moreover, 28 percent of Evangelicals this time around said “the Holy Spirit is a divine being, but is not equal with God the Father or Jesus.” That number is up significantly from the previous study, where only 9 percent of self-identified Evangelicals said the same.//

This offers an interesting perspective on the Christian story.

Justice requires that human sin be punished.

God's love means that we don't have to do the punishment alone.

A compassionate judge sentences a veteran to 24 hours in jail, then joins him behind bars

Scratch one talking point.

Did Jesus teach against homosexual practice?

Yes.

Forgiveness and Serial Killers.

Theodore Dalrymple has a characteristically insightful essay on the evolution of forgiveness as a bit of narcissistic self-gratification, and when and what we have a right to forgive.

It's worth reading.

It either really, really matters, or it doesn't at all...

...the Incarnation, that is.

As Flannery O'Connor said about something not so completely different, "“Well, if it’s a symbol, to hell with it.”

Mark Shea answers in a very reasonable fashion a very reasonable question about some seemingly "over the top" Catholic sentiments expressed by St. Louis de Montfort about Mary, aka the Mother of God:

14. With the whole Church I acknowledge that Mary, being a mere creature fashioned by the hands of God is, compared to his infinite majesty, less than an atom, or rather is simply nothing, since he alone can say, “I am he who is”. Consequently, this great Lord, who is ever independent and self-sufficient, never had and does not now have any absolute need of the Blessed Virgin for the accomplishment of his will and the manifestation of his glory. To do all things he has only to will them.

This was very comforting to read, but it’s very short and he continues to say things that just seem kind of weird—heretical sounding to a simple guy like me.

39. Secondly, we must conclude that, being necessary to God by a necessity which is called “hypothetical”, (that is, because God so willed it), the Blessed Virgin is all the more necessary for men to attain their final end. Consequently we must not place devotion to her on the same level as devotion to the other saints as if it were merely something optional.

The key phrase here is “because God so willed it”. Once again, it comes back to the fact of the Incarnation. No Mary, no incarnation. No incarnation, no human nature for the Son to assume. No human nature for the Son, no death on the cross. No death on the cross, no resurrection. No resurrection, no justification. No justification, no salvation. Hence, no Mary, no salvation. So yes, Mary is necessary for us to attain our final end. The Incarnation necessary means that God the Son has chosen to enter into relationship with us through her.

Mary is important because she is, quite simply, the Mother of God by way of the Incarnation, and the Incarnation is important, to put it mildly.

Doctrines about Mary are doctrines about Christ. The reputation of Mary and the honor accorded her are important because Christ is important and because of the Incarnation, which placed God in a human setting with a human language, a human language, a human nationality, and, not incidentally, a human family, our attitudes about Christ are reflected in our attitudes about Mary.

This is a very gritty, very embodied, very practical point; it's hardly the "gnosticized," spiritualized perspective that is assumed by the heirs of the Reformation, who seem to divide Christ from the reality of his humanity, the chief aspect of which is, you know, having a mother. Aquinas explains the importance of the Sanctification of Mary in his responsio of Question 27, article 4:

I answer that, God so prepares and endows those, whom He chooses for some particular office, that they are rendered capable of fulfilling it, according to 2 Corinthians 3:6: "(Who) hath made us fit ministers of the New Testament." Now the Blessed Virgin was chosen by God to be His Mother. Therefore there can be no doubt that God, by His grace, made her worthy of that office, according to the words spoken to her by the angel (Luke 1:30-31): "Thou hast found grace with God: behold thou shalt conceive," etc. But she would not have been worthy to be the Mother of God, if she had ever sinned. First, because the honor of the parents reflects on the child, according to Proverbs 17:6: "The glory of children are their fathers": and consequently, on the other hand, the Mother's shame would have reflected on her Son. Secondly, because of the singular affinity between her and Christ, who took flesh from her: and it is written (2 Corinthians 6:15): "What concord hath Christ with Belial?" Thirdly, because of the singular manner in which the Son of God, who is the "Divine Wisdom" (1 Corinthians 1:24) dwelt in her, not only in her soul but in her womb. And it is written (Wisdom 1:4): "Wisdom will not enter into a malicious soul, nor dwell in a body subject to sins."

When I read that passage for Radio Free Aquinas, I was struck by the part that went:

...because the honor of the parents reflects on the child, according to Proverbs 17:6: "The glory of children are their fathers"...

In other words, as human beings, we don't - perhaps can't - separate the children from the father or vice versa. The reputation of the mother reflects on the reputation of the son and vice versa.

Perhaps, as an abstraction, we moderns might like to think that we are beyond that kind of thinking, but are we? If we were, then how do we explain the political successes of the Kennedy clan? Or for that matter, how do we explain the political successes of the son of George Bush or the son of George Romney?

The answer is that the author of Proverbs was right then and is right now - "The glory of children are their fathers."

In Christianity, the opposite of "religion" is not "spirituality"; it is "superstition."

A Facebook post made the following observation:

This was posted today from one of my friends who is a very Emergent Christian. "The most boring and unproductive question a person can ask of a religion is whether or not it's true" - Alain de Botton

It may not be the case that Alain de Botton and the emergent guy are indifferent to the truth. What they may be saying is that "talking about religion" is the problem because simply talking about religion can in no way get us to the truth. Religion is one of those things, according to this view, which is not subject to discussion because it is motstly or entirely subjective - something proven or not proven in the interiority of the human.

Of course, the problem with that perspective is that it makes communication impossible because unless there is something objective about the thing we are discussing, then everyone's separate "interiority" is equally uncommunicable - perhaps even the statement that ""The most boring and unproductive question a person can ask of a religion is whether or not it's true" is itself an incommunicable thought.

Pope John Paul II in Fides et Ratio offered this on the problem of defining the religious as incommunicable:

"Deprived of reason, faith has stressed feeling and experience, and so run the risk of no longer being a universal proposition. It is an illusion to think that faith, tied to weak reasoning, might be more penetrating; on the contrary, faith then runs the grave risk of withering into myth or superstition."

Pope Benedict XVI follows up on the role of reason in Christianity and his tour de force at Regensburg, a part of which is the following:

"The subject then decides, on the basis of his experiences, what he considers tenable in matters of religion, and the subjective "conscience" becomes the sole arbiter of what is ethical. In this way, though, ethics and religion lose their power to create a community and become a completely personal matter. This is a dangerous state of affairs for humanity, as we see from the disturbing pathologies of religion and reason which necessarily erupt when reason is so reduced that questions of religion and ethics no longer concern it. Attempts to construct an ethic from the rules of evolution or from psychology and sociology, end up being simply inadequate."

We are either reasoning creatures or we are not. God has either made reason a touchpoint for everyone or He has not. If either of those two statements are true, then any belief that cannot be proven by contingent, empirical data is mere superstition.

And if that last bit is true, then who cares what Alain de Botton "thinks"?

If these people would actually read something, they might avoid making some truly basic and embarrassing mistakes...

...but why would they, since they are "two thousand years smarter" than some of the greatest thinkers born of the human race?

Here is Benny Hinn debunking the Immaculate Conception by arguing that Jesus had no genetic connection with his mother -



So, Hinn is basically saying that Jesus is not Jewish.

He is, you know, because if Jesus was not genetically, and, therefore, "racially," related to his mother and his mother was a Jew, then Jesus was not a Jew, particularly since Judaism traces the Jewish lineage through the mother.

Hinn should have consulted with St. Augustine before engaging in this bit of bone-headed theology.  If he had he would have been offered this insight:

 "It was also a mark of the justice and goodness of God that the devil should be outdone by the same rational creature as he congratulated himself on outdoing, and outdone by one man issuing from that race, which he had held the whole of in his power because its origin had been vitiated by one man. 18,

23. God could of course have taken a man to himself from somewhere else, to be in him the mediator of God and men (1 Tm 2:5), not from the race of that Adam who had implicated the human race in his own sin, just as he did not create the one he first created from the race of another. In the same way, or any other way he wished, he could have created another one to conquer the conqueror of the first. But God judged it better to take a man to himself from the very race that had been conquered, in order through him to conquer the enemy of the human race; to take one however whose conception from a virgin was inaugurated by the spirit not the flesh, by faith not lust. There was no desire of the flesh involved, which the rest of men who contract original sin are begotten and conceived by; it was utterly absent when holy virginity conceived by believing not by embracing, so that what was there born of the stock of the first man would only derive from him a racial not a criminal origin."

Saint Augustine of Hippo; John E. Rotelle; Edmund Hill (2011-01-23). The Trinity (The Works of Saint Augustine) (pp. 364-365). New City Press. Kindle Edition.

In contrast, Hinn has God creating another human from a different race - not part of the race that was conquered by Satan.

And, yet, interestingly he affirms the insight that supports the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception - the mother of Jesus, the mother of God, was without sin.

Kol Nidrei.

All vows, renunciations, promises, obligations, oaths, taken from this Day of Atonement till the next, may we attain it in peace, we regret them in advance. May we be absolved of them, may we be released from them, may they be null and void and of no effect. May they not be binding upon us. Such vows shall not be considered vows; such renunciations, no renunciations; and such oaths, no oaths. (Translation adapted from the High Holyday Prayer Book, edited by Rabbi Ben Zion Bokser.)

This is an interesting article on the Kol Nidrei prayer, which is chanted in synagogues on the eve of Yom Kippur.  Apparently, the gist of the prayer is the nullification of vows, either vows taken in the prior years or in the next, but not vows to one's fellow man.  The article is pretty obscure on that point.  Here's a part of the article:

The language of Kol Nidrei, chanted in Jewish congregations just before Yom Kippur, is complex, obscure, and legalistic. Yet it continues to fascinate. Rabbi Lawrence A. Hoffman, professor of liturgy at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, has edited a new collection of essays titled All These Vows: Kol Nidre. Those who want to prepare for Yom Kippur by understanding the reasons for the lasting fascination with Kol Nidrei should read the first half of this book—but may want to stop before the second half.


No one knows for sure how Kol Nidrei originated. It is by far the best-known Yom Kippur prayer, but in fact it is neither a prayer nor actually recited on Yom Kippur. Rabbis have never liked it. In the early Middle Ages, some of them sought to exclude it from the liturgy altogether. Others, a few centuries later in France, changed the wording to render it more palatable. Still others, in 19th-century Central Europe, excised even the newer version from the liturgy. Yet its melody evokes Jewish associations so intimate that even many who are otherwise completely estranged attend synagogue to listen. The tune was appropriated by Beethoven and popularized by Perry Como and Johnny Mathis. Al Jolson sang it at the emotional climax of the film The Jazz Singer, the first full-length talkie, in 1927.


One of the great mysteries of Jewish liturgy is how Kol Nidrei achieved its exalted role on Yom Kippur eve, the holiest day of the Jewish year. The text, devoid of emotional resonance, is a technical legal formula that nullifies vows. Since halakhah prohibits nullification on Sabbaths and holidays, Kol Nidrei is recited before the onset of Yom Kippur. In its original form, still used in the Sephardic rite, it refers to all vows taken over the course of the previous year. The formula does not actually conform to talmudic requirements for nullification: For one thing, there is no mention of any specific vow that needs undoing. Therefore, rabbis in the 9th and 10th centuries discouraged its recitation. But rabbinic opposition could not overcome what, by then, had apparently become a deeply-rooted folk practice. In the early 12th century, Rabbi Jacob Tam, grandson of the great talmudist Rashi, sought to ameliorate halakhic objections by changing the wording so that it referred not to vows already made but to those that would be taken in the coming year. This became the predominant version among Ashkenazim.

In Jewish law, the nullification of vows does not apply to obligations undertaken toward one's fellow man. Nevertheless, anti-Semites had a field day with Kol Nidrei, because the prayer's formula reinforced the notion that Jews were authorized by their religion to renege on promises and that they could not be trusted. As a result, medieval European tribunals demanded that Jews take an especially humiliating oath, designed to counteract what was understood as Kol Nidrei's dispensation to break their word. With the emancipation of European Jewry that began in the late 18th century, and the possibility of acceptance as equal citizens, Kol Nidrei was seen as an embarrassment. The Reform movement went so far as to eliminate the prayer from its liturgy in 1844.

A Commentary article from 1968 explains further:

The vow (neder) is one of the earliest forms of prayer known to Scripture, but a growing religious sophistication over the centuries led to a downgrading of this primitive form of prayer. The Pharisees, for example, took a dim view of candidates for their fellowship who were prone to the making of vows. Indeed, the Torah itself discourages vowing: “When you make a vow to the Lord your God, do not put off fulfilling it, for the Lord your God will require it of you, and you will have incurred guilt; whereas you incur no guilt if you refrain from vowing” (Deuteronomy 23:21-23). The Torah further provides for the annulment of certain vows, notably those made by females who are legally within the jurisdiction of their father or husband (Numbers 30). And Scripture, generally, cautions against vows lightly taken: “Be not rash with your mouth, and let not your heart be hasty to utter a word before God . . . better it is that you should not vow, than that you should vow and not pay. Allow not your mouth to bring your flesh to guilt . . . but fear God” (Ecclesiastes 5:1,4,6).


The post-biblical moralists shared this attitude and tried to dissuade Jews from resorting to vows as a demonstration of piety. In the period of the Mishnah, the habit of making vows was held to be a mark of low breeding. Some of the rabbis permitted the use of vows as a means of reinforcing resolutions to replace bad habits with good ones, but others disapproved. A favorite Talmudic maxim says, “It is sufficient for you [to limit yourself] to that which the Torah forbids.” In third-century Babylonia, the distinguished Amora Samuel derogated those who, like the Nazarite, adopted vows of abstinence: “Even though he fulfills [the vow], he is called wicked.” The Palestinian authorities were inclined to be more indulgent than their Babylonian colleagues in the matter of vowing; yet it was a Palestinian Tanna, Rabbi Nathan, who said: “One who vows is as though he built a high place, and he who fulfills it as though he sacrificed thereon.”

Despite such injunctions, not every Jew could resist the habits of centuries of Oriental vow-making. Thus the legal authorities in the Talmudic period had to cope with the dilemma of preserving the sanctity of the pledged word in a society that continued to make ill-considered vows. The problems—legal and moral—which perplexed the most eminent rabbis in the matter of the dispensation of the many types of vows, oaths, etc., are so complex and subtle that it is impossible to discuss them here in detail. Two entire tractates of the Talmud (Nedarim and Shevuot) deal directly with these issues, to say nothing of discussions in other tractates.

We can see a similar sentiment in Jesus' edict that we should let our "yes" be "yes" and our "no" be "no."
There seems to be a basic human need to be released from self-imposed obligations.  We can see that in confession, but also in the Kol Nidrei prayer.

More on Epiphanies.

Prior exchanges are here and in the comments.

AJ writes:

Yes, the Holy Spirit took the form of a dove in Luke. My use of “incarnated” simply denotes “in the flesh”. I’m saying that the Holy Spirit never took the form of man.


St. Ambrose states:

“4. As John says that he saw, so, too, wrote Mark; Luke, however, added that the Holy Spirit descended in a bodily form as a dove; you must not think that this was an incarnation, but an appearance. He, then, brought the appearance before him, that by means of the appearance he might believe who did not see the Spirit, and that by the appearance He might manifest that He had a share of the one honour in authority, the one operation in the mystery, the one gift in the bath, together with the Father and the Son; unless perchance we consider Him in Whom the Lord was baptized too weak for the servant to be baptized in Him.” (On the Holy Spirit Book III, Ch.1)

St. Ambrose states that the Holy Spirit was never incarnated. Yes, the Holy Spirit took the form of a dove, but He was never incarnated. This parallels with Christ who took on different forms in the Old Testament (particularly, the Angel of the Lord) and was then incarnated in the New Testament.

Moreover, I hold that the Holy Spirit could not be the Angel of the Lord because a spirit is without bodily form, nor man-like (Luke 24:39). It is apparent in the OT that the Angel of the Lord did have a bodily form. As I stated earlier, Manoah first believed the Angel of the Lord to be a man in Judges 13.

The incarnation of Christ is imperative to the Christian faith. I hold that OT christophanies were not incarnations, but rather revelations of the pre-incarnate Christ.

8:17 PM

AJ said...

You are correct when you state that no man has seen God in the divine nature (in His glory). But it is a stretch to say that man has not seen God in any form. To say that seeing the form of God but not seeing Him in His glory is the same as not seeing God at all is not warranted by scripture or a major part of historical bible scholarship within Christianity.

Irenaeus puts this well.

“5. These things did the prophets set forth in a prophetical manner; but they did not, as some allege, [proclaim] that He who was seen by the prophets was a different [God], the Father of all being invisible. Yet this is what those [heretics] declare, who are altogether ignorant of the nature of prophecy. For prophecy is a prediction of things future, that is, a setting forth beforehand of those things which shall be afterwards. The prophets, then, indicated beforehand that God should be seen by men; as the Lord also says, Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Matthew 5:8 But in respect to His greatness, and His wonderful glory, no man shall see God and live, Exodus 33:20 for the Father is incomprehensible; but in regard to His love, and kindness, and as to His infinite power, even this He grants to those who love Him, that is, to see God, which thing the prophets did also predict. For those things that are impossible with men, are possible with God. Luke 18:27 For man does not see God by his own powers; but when He pleases He is seen by men, by whom He wills, and when He wills, and as He wills. For God is powerful in all things, having been seen at that time indeed, prophetically through the Spirit, and seen, too, adoptively through the Son; and He shall also be seen paternally in the kingdom of heaven, the Spirit truly preparing man in the Son of God, and the Son leading him to the Father, while the Father, too, confers [upon him] incorruption for eternal life, which comes to every one from the fact of his seeing God. For as those who see the light are within the light, and partake of its brilliancy; even so, those who see God are in God, and receive of His splendour. But [His] splendour vivifies them; those, therefore, who see God, do receive life. And for this reason, He, [although] beyond comprehension, and boundless and invisible, rendered Himself visible, and comprehensible, and within the capacity of those who believe, that He might vivify those who receive and behold Him through faith. For as His greatness is past finding out, so also His goodness is beyond expression; by which having been seen, He bestows life upon those who see Him. It is not possible to live apart from life, and the means of life is found in fellowship with God; but fellowship with God is to know God, and to enjoy His goodness.”

Against Heresies (Book IV, Chapter 20)

Just to clarify, I am not a Mormon. I believe in one God. I hold that the form in which Christ appeared is irrelevant to the fact that the Son was seen in the OT.

Justin Martyr also holds this same conclusion. Even if Justin was a pre-nicene church father or held certain positions that were later further defined, it does not take away from the his positions that were correct and aligned with later developed doctrine. I can agree with Justin on some things and disagree with others, I do the same with Augustine.

"I shall give you another testimony, my friends," said I, "from the Scriptures, that God begat before all creatures a Beginning,[who was] a certain rational power[proceeding] from Himself, who is called by the Holy Spirit, now the Glory of the Lord, now the Son, again Wisdom, again an Angel, then God, and then Lord and Logos; and on another occasion He calls Himself Captain, when He appeared in human form to Joshua the son of Nave(Nun). For He can be called by all those names, since He ministers to the Father's will, and since He was begotten of the Father by an act of will…” DIALOGUE WITH TRYPHO CH.61

I will reply further to your post, as I haven’t addressed all your points yet.

8:17 PM

AJ said...

If you hold that the Son “is not totally present for His followers to see”, how then do you interpret the transfiguration or even Mark 16:14?

Yes, “Proskynesis” is the Greek word for worship used in many of the verses involving the Angel of the Lord and worship in the LXX. However it is important to focus attention on the original Hebrew “Shachah” and its original meaning in the Masoretic text.

It isn’t a question of persons worshipping the apparent ‘angel(s)”, but rather a question of why the Angel of the Lord accepted worship.

The situation in Genesis 19:1 is interesting. It is an example of “shachah” used in reference to making obeisance to persons other than God. It is important to remember that Lot mistook these angels for men (similar to Manoah in Judges 13). So in relation to Lot bowing himself to two perceived men, nothing is out of the ordinary as it was custom to bow in civil respect to men in biblical times. The difference between Genesis 19:1 and Revelation 19:10 & 22:8-9 is that, in Revelation, John knows very well that he is communicating with and angel an intends to worship him and not merely show respect while Lot did not know he was conversing with angels (he believed them to be men). And in Judges 13 we see an example of the Angel of the Lord accepting the burnt offering after which Manoah falls to the ground. There is a defining line between the use of “shachah” as referring to obeisance and worship. As you or I might show respect for a great man or judge, we would never worship him as we would God.

While “wonderful” and “abundant” are not exact literal names of God, they are attributes of Him. (Exodus 34:6 and Isaiah 9:6)

Manoah is not inerrant but we must still answer the question of why he first says “Angel of the Lord”, then “God”.

I merely point out that the presence of fire is significant in denoting the presence of God in the OT. No, fire does not always denote His presence. However, it is a major clue that can’t be overlooked. Coupled with the apparent “angelic messenger(s)” speaking with the voice of the Lord, holy ground, the tabernacle, etc., it is indeed a huge clue.

I respond:

AJ


First, let me be clear that I am not per se ruling out that the putative epiphanies in the Old Testament were epiphanies or Christophanies. Those are within the licit range of opinions, I believe. However, I don’t think that we are compelled to conclude that they were and I think that the better opinion is that they were not.

1. I am pleased that we are in agreement with Ambrose and Augustine that at the Baptism in Jordan the Holy Spirit took the bodily form of a dove in the New Testament.

I am also pleased that we are in agreement with Ambrose and Augustine that the Holy Spirit was never “incarnated.”

I didn’t know the Ambrose references and I appreciate your having supplied them. However, it does not surprise me that Ambrose agreed with Augustine because the uniqueness of the Incarnation was most definitely a key point of Christian doctrine.

It seems to me, though, that you may be missing some important points about the meaning of the true and undisputed epiphany of the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove at the Baptism in the Jordan. Those points are:

A. The meaning of “incarnation” vis a vis “epiphany.” It is not clear to me that you understand what “incarnation” means. It does not mean “taking a human form.” Incarnation means taking the bodily form into the reality of the person so that the person becomes embodied, while remaining spiritual, such that it is the body that is taken up and becomes part of the hypostatic union with divinity. None of the prior epiphanies involved a “hypostatic union,” which is why Ambrose refers to them as “appearances.

B. Thus, based on the example of His appearance at the Baptism at the Jordan, the Holy Spirit could have appeared in any prior epiphany, particularly since the epiphanies often did not involve taking the form of a human being, and

C. You write that the “Holy Spirit could not be the Angel of the Lord because a spirit is without bodily form, nor man-like (Luke 24:39).” This seems to miss the point. Each person of the Trinity is a spirit and not “man-like” in their divine nature. Moreover, the point of Jesus disclaiming what you synopsize God being man-like isn’t to assert that God might manifest as a dog or a dove, but to hyperbolically drive the point home that God is Spirit. Hence, the problem with your analysis is that the Holy Spirit manifested bodily – as you now concede – in the form of a dove. But since being embodied as a dove is being in a bodily form, then clearly nothing clearly prevents earlier manifestations as fire or as angels from having been the Holy Spirit. (N.B. Angels are no more “men” than they are “doves.”)

D. Again, this leads in the direction of Mormonism, which as you may know posits that God and the Son have bodies of “flesh and bone,” while the Spirit has a spiritual body, which is really, really fine-grained matter. Now, again, there is nothing wrong with that, except that orthodox Christianity has always affirmed the immateriality and spirituality of God and the Trinity.

2. You write “The incarnation of Christ is imperative to the Christian faith. I hold that OT christophanies were not incarnations, but rather revelations of the pre-incarnate Christ.”

My prior arguments was to the effect that this conclusion is not compelled by the text. My further argument is the appeal to “fittingness.” To wit, why do you feel that this conclusion is more fitting – more consonant with what we know of the Gospel - than its competitor?

My argument against your position is also based on “fittingness.” I think that the Incarnation is so important and so unique that while angelic visitations prefigure the Incarnation, if we believe that Christ was actually making those appearances, that view threatens to undermine the uniqueness of the Incarnation. It’s as if Christ were making some off-Broadway appearance before hitting the big time.

Likewise, these prior epiphanies are all too easy to confuse with the Incarnation – which I think you’ve done twice, but even if it was just a problem with grammar, my point is made.

3. Irenaeus and the vision of God.

The point that I was making was that we do not and cannot see the divine nature of God with just our physical eyes.  When people saw Jesus, they certainly saw God, but they saw God in his human nature.

You do provide an interesting quote from Irenaeus, but it seems to miss the point of this discussion.

Irenaeus is talking about “seeing” God in various non-physical ways, e.g., “For God is powerful in all things, having been seen at that time indeed, prophetically through the Spirit, and seen, too, adoptively through the Son; and He shall also be seen paternally in the kingdom of heaven….”

It is clear that in the after-life the saved will see the divine nature of God directly by vision. Apparently, thought, the damned won’t according to, I believe, Augustine. So, if you show up at the Last Judgment and Jesus looks like just a guy, you know you are in some trouble.

Now that’s funny but the serious point is that without God’s assistance – his Grace - to see His Divine nature, we can’t do it with our natural senses. Similarly, Irenaeus talks about how we can see God in various ways that are analogous to seeing with our vision but are not, in fact, seeing by our eyes.

Epiphanies are quite to the contrary. Anyone can see them. That’s the point. That’s why Augustine talks about epiphanies being creatures that are observable by natural senses.

4. You write “Just to clarify, I am not a Mormon. I believe in one God. I hold that the form in which Christ appeared is irrelevant to the fact that the Son was seen in the OT.”

I don’t know what you mean by “I hold that the form in which Christ appeared is irrelevant to the fact that the Son was seen in the OT.” It seems that there are two buried assumptions here –

A. Christ was seen in Old Testament epiphanies. This is the question at issue. Assuming it is simply begging the question.

B. The appearance – Form? Shape? Incarnate? – is irrelevant to the fact that it was Christ who appeared.

Concerning this last, I submit that it does matter. If you are assuming an Incarnation, then you are outside the “rules” of the Christian game. If the form was human, then this may foreshadow the Incarnation, but if the appearance was Christ it seems to detract from the dignity of the Incarnation by, as I noted, making it look like Christ was trying on the costume before the big show.

If the form was not human, then what happened to your reading of Luke 24:39?

5. Justin Martyr.

I agree that Justin appears to be arguing for the epiphanies being Christophanies, just as Augustine argues against that position.

The issue is why should we prefer one over the other.

A reason for preferring Justin is that it might be the case that since Justin is substantially earlier than Augustine, he would have access to an earlier tradition. But in this case, that tradition goes back to Genesis, so it is hard to see how that is sufficiently early to give him an edge in that department.

On the other hand, coming earlier, Justin wasn’t exposed to the Christological and Trinitarian debates that unfolded later from working out the implications of Christianity. I’ve already pointed out that Justin had the unfortunate habit of referring to “two gods” in his writings, which suggests that he wasn’t entirely clear on the issue of the consubstantiality of God’s nature. As such, it would have been logical for him to think that Christ was subordinate to the Father and, so, there was nothing “unfitting” about Christ trying on his role before the big show.

Augustine – writing after Nicea – doesn’t have the luxury of that kind of understanding. His understanding – our understanding – is that the Father and the Son are consubstantial. As such, we have to re-think Justin’s understanding to make sure it accords with – or is the best explanation of – the data in light of our new understanding.

Hence, Augustine is to be preferred.

I would very much be interested in your explaining to me why we should prefer Justin to Augustine on this issue.

6. “If you hold that the Son “is not totally present for His followers to see”, how then do you interpret the transfiguration or even Mark 16:14?”

That’s a good question, and a bit complicated.

Aquinas explains the Transfiguration as a moment when Christ assumed bodily the supernatural gift of clarity, which all resurrected bodies will have, along with subtlety, agility and impassibility.

Certain Orthodox theologians have viewed the Transfiguration in a different way that gets very mystical and may traipse off into heresy.

In any event, the light of the transfiguration was a visible light, not a metaphor or a spiritual experience.

7. “Worshipping” Angels.

Your exegesis of how Lot was just showing respect to some strangers ignores Augustine. Augustine described Lot as “worshipping” and specifically says that obviously Lot knew they were angels because he wouldn’t have “worshipped” them otherwise.

Even if we understand Lot’s actions as proskynesis short of the worship given to God – something I am perfectly comfortable with – Augustine’s point is that such exaggerated respect is something given to angels.

Similarly, when we see the same thing in Judges and Revelations, why should we assume that it isn’t the same kind of exaggerated respect that people gave to angels as a matter of routine? That’s the clear implication of Augustine’s observations.

Two additional points.

A. I think we go with Augustine on this one because he understood the customs of a non-democratic culture than you or I.

B. I’ve seen a bit of self-serving blindness on this one. People who would accuse a Catholic of “worshipping” a statue of Mary by praying before it seem to have no problem with claiming that Lot, Manue and John were not “worshipping” angels by dropping face-first before them. The problem is that we don’t understand the gradations of “worship” – which means showing reverence or respect – and we don’t have categories between “worship of God” and “respect for superiors.”

8. Manoah.

First, “abundant” may be a name of God, but I’m not comfortable with that conclusion.

The “pro” argument is from the following:

"On the contrary, Ambrose says (De Fide ii) that "Splendor" is among those things which are said of God metaphorically."

And

"On the contrary, It is written (Exodus 15:3): "The Lord is a man of war, Almighty is His name."

“Abundance” is not so dissimilar to “almighty” and “splendor.”

And, yet, when God speaks of Himself, he says “I am who am.”

Further, “almighty” and “splendor” are names of God that are ascribed by humans as metaphors for God. It’s hard to see God doing that. Did Ted Williams ever introduce himself by saying that he was the “Splendid Splinter.” I don’t see that happening.

Concerning the reference to God, I’ll note that Manue said it, but Manue also said “we will die because we have seen God.” Manue did not die. Why is it not the case that the reason he didn’t die is because he hadn’t seen God? It seems the better argument from the text is that this was not an epiphany.

Concerning fire and speaking as God, that’s where we started this discussion. Augustine offers an explanation for the latter.

So kicking it to you, I’m curious.

1. You have never interacted with Augustine’s explanation – as I have done with Irenaeus and Justin. What do you think is the problem is, if anything, with Augustine's explanation?

2. How is it that you think the proposition that the epiphanies were Christophanies is more consonant with the entirety of Christian doctrine than Augustine’s position?

Atheist Physicist says that what is missing from scientific explanation is the answer to "why"...

...or, more technically, the "final cause."

At Bloggingheads:



The physicist - David Deutsch - also asserts that information perpetuates itself, which sounds an awful lot like the "substantial form" of Aristotle and Aquinas.

The Christocentricity of Automobile Insurance...

...because, after all is said and done, who is The Good Neighbor?

With tongue planted in cheek, Msgr. Charles Pope exegetes a State Farm commercial:

Well, I’m at it again. I saw the State Farm commercial in the video below and something said to me, “Pay attention this is a parable about the Kingdom.” And upon further reflection, Indeed it is. You will call me crazy, but please add that I was crazy for Christ. I am also aware that I am reading into the commercial what the creators did not likely intend. But there’s just something about the way biblical archetypes still find their way into our culture. Let’s look more closely at this commercial.


Perhaps we do well to look at it by analyzing the dramatis personae (cast of characters) and weaving in the plot.

As the scene opens there are three women who come upon a car belonging to one of them. The car has been damaged. The three women may be likened to three different kinds of Christian and there is also a Christ figure who makes appearance:

There is the sensible Christian, the woman in the center. She owns the car and, upon seeing the damage, is unfazed. She knows exactly what to do. She summons her State Farm agent who appears as if out of nowhere. She trusts him to handle everything and even encourages her friends to call on him.

Her State Farm agent is a Christ figure. He wears a red tie, reminding us of theblood that was shed for us. He has a book in his hand, wherein everything is recorded. He arrives not only to bring help, but also to make a judgement, and thus he consults his book and goes to work (cf Rev 20:12ff). His name is “Rich” (cf 2 Cor 8:9). Later, in the ad, he will rebuke the darkness.

A second woman to the left is a worldly Christian. Though the Christ figure stands in her midst, she ignores him and wants to see if she can come up with her own State Farm agent, an agent of her own making. For, it would seem the one standing there does not please her. She wants one who is cute and more “warm and sensitive.” Creature comforts, and an unchallenging agent, is what she wants, one who will be more soothing and surely not one who is dressed in a business suit (as is the Christ figure with the red tie, for he means business).

A third woman to the right is a carnal Christian. She is lustful, impetuous, daring and wants a man who is the same. She hardly makes notice of the Christ figure, except to powerfully reject him with a sneer. She calls for her “agent” and he appears. He is rouge, a thug really, lustful, arrogant, irresponsible, and immature. He is the perfect projection of her carnal, lustful and fallen nature, and you can see it in the glint of her eye. She calls him “Darkside.”

In the background the Christ figure just keeps working as if to say, My Father is always at his work to this very day, and I, too, am working (Jn 5:17).

But now the carnal thug is sitting on the car, sitting on the kingdom if you will. And so the Christ figure says to him: Hey Darkside! Get off the car! As if to say, Begone, Satan.

Yes, there it is, the Light rebuking the darkness, scattering it

Clever.

Here is the commercial.

The disturbing thing about this article is the implication in this article that Mormons think that Non-Mormons do.

Tresa Edmunds in the Guardian explains why Mormons do not worship Mary:

In much of the Christian world, 8 September is recognised as the birthday of Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ. Which, as a Mormon, was news to me. Compared with many other Christian sects, Latter Day Saints don't appear to pay much attention to Mary. We revere her as the mother of Christ, celebrate her sacrifices, and honour her as we do Eve or Sarah or other heroines of the scriptures, but we don't worship her.


The Book of Mormonteaches of Mary's sacred calling as the mother of Christ, referring to her as "a virgin, most beautiful and fair above all other virgins" (1 Nephi 11:15) and "a precious and chosen vessel". (Alma 7:10) Around Christmas time, congregations around the world host nativity festivals as we celebrate the birth of Christ and her role in it. She is special to us, but we do not believe in much of the Mary worship of other Christian faiths, including the immaculate conception of Mary, her perpetual virginity, or the assumption.

The first Article of Faith reads: "We believe in God, the Eternal Father, and in His Son, Jesus Christ, and in the Holy Ghost." Unlike many other Christian denominations, Mormons do not believe in the Trinity, but that God, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit are three distinct personages with their own roles in eternity. This difference in belief ripples out into many other areas of doctrine, but it has important ramifications for Mary. Much of her worship stems from being the mother of God, an intercessor in prayer to her son on our behalf. But Mormons believe that we pray to the heavenly father, with Christ being our only intercessor. Without using her in that role, Mary no longer has grounds for worship, although retaining our reverence and gratitude.

The highlighted phrases merit a hearty "Huh?"

Obviously orthodox Christians do not worship Mary, albeit the overwhelming majority of Christians throughout history have viewed Mary, and the saints, as powerful intercessors.

What may be going on here is revealed in the underlined sentence - Mormons are not supposed to pray to anyone but God the Father, who alone is the proper object of supplicatory prayer and alone is capable of answering prayers.  In point of fact, Mormons do not worship Jesus, according to the Bruce McConkie, a member of the Quorum of the 12 Apostles:

1. We worship the Father and him only and no one else.

We do not worship the Son, and we do not worship the Holy Ghost. I know perfectly well what the scriptures say about worshipping Christ and Jehovah, but they are speaking in an entirely different sense--the sense of standing in awe and being reverentially grateful to him who has redeemed us. Worship in the true and saving sense is reserved for God the first, the Creator.

Our revelations say that the Father "is infinite and eternal," that he created "man, male and female,"

And gave unto them commandments that they should love and serve him, the only living and true God, and that he should be the only being whom they should worship. [D&C 20:17–19]

Jesus said:

True worshippers shall [note that this is mandatory] worship the Father in spirit and in truth; for the Father seeketh such to worship him.


For unto such hath God promised his Spirit. And they who worship him, must worship in spirit and in truth. [JST John 4:25–26]

There is no other way, no other approved system of worship.

The issue of prayer is wrapped into the issue of worship by McConkie as follows:

Another peril is that those so involved often begin to pray directly to Christ because of some special friendship they feel has been developed. In this connection a current and unwise book, which advocates gaining a special relationship with Jesus, contains this sentence:

Because the Savior is our mediator, our prayers go through Christ to the Father, and the Father answers our prayers through his Son.

This is plain sectarian nonsense. Our prayers are addressed to the Father, and to him only. They do not go through Christ, or the Blessed Virgin, or St. Genevieve or along the beads of a rosary. We are entitled to "come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need" (Hebrews 4:16).

This is an interesting working out of the Arianism at the heart of Mormonism.  For orthodox Christianity, Christ is of one substance with the Father and the Holy Spirity and always has been.  For Arians, including Mormons, Christ is of a lesser rank and substance than the Father, and is a creature himself.  As such, the logic of not praying to Christ is abundantly clear.

But look at the result - while Mormons falsely claim that "other Christians" have elevated Mary to the position of God, in truth, Mormons have lowered Christ to the position of Mary.  Christ is not truly God; he is simply the most elevated creature. This is explicit in McConkie's sermon:

Our relationship with the Son is one of brother or sister in the premortal life and one of being led to the Father by him while in this mortal sphere. He is the Lord Jehovah who championed our cause before the foundations of the earth were laid. He is the God of Israel, the promised Messiah, and the Redeemer of the world.

I'm not sure that all Mormons really understand the implications of this theology, or whether they understand that they do not pray to Christ.  The circumlocution of "praying to" and "praying through" provides sufficient ambiguity to take either position.

On the other hand, I think that there are Mormons who know exactly what their doctrines entail, and who fight the full disclosure of their doctrines out of fear that potential converts would be deterred if they understood that they were not permitted to have a "personal relationship with Jesus."  That at least was my experience in this thread from Theology for Dummies.  Likewise, McConkie acknowledges how difficult this doctrine is for the presumed target audience:

Now I know that some may be offended at the counsel that they should not strive for a special and personal relationship with Christ. It will seem to them as though I am speaking out against mother love, or Americanism, or the little red schoolhouse. But I am not. There is a fine line here over which true worshipers will not step.

From my interactions with a particular Mormon troll, I have become progressively more puzzled by the (apparent) Mormon insistence on - repulsion concerning - the false notion that Non-Mormons worship Mary.  It strikes me as odd that any Mormon would accuse Non-Mormons of adding Mary to the "godhead" when Mormon doctrine explicitly includes a fourth person, an un-named female goddess - to the Mormon "godhead" in the mysterious form of the "Heavenly Mother." Although this figure is seldom discussed, she lurks in the background, and is, in fact, found in Tresa Edmund's essay:

Personally, Mary has significance to me far beyond other women in our scriptures. She is the closest avatar we have to our heavenly mother, and proof of the love and care Christ had towards the women of his day. In stark contrast to how religions have treated women throughout time, her life shows that God knows women are powerful enough to bring forth his most mighty miracles.

Presumably, Mormons do not "worship" the Heavenly Mother for the same reason that they don't worship Jesus, but worship is the proper response to divinity, and insofar as the Heavenly Mother is divine in Mormon theology, the question remains, why not?

The Good of Faith.

From Professor James R. Stoner, Jr.'s "Last Lecture."


 

IV. Faith


Constitutionalism, learning, beauty—next is faith. On nothing else is society so misled as on the question of what faith is and whether it is good—not just society at large, I think, but even many of us who take pride in being faithful. Faith is presented as the opposite of science: scientists know, others merely believe. This is not entirely wrong, but incomplete, for it takes for granted that modern science and faith speak about the same things, which is hardly obvious—indeed, is obviously mistaken, as anyone with faith can recognize. By opposing science and faith, faith is clumped together with all non-science and hence with a lot of nonsense, with every prejudice, fantasy, error, and falsehood. Even the faithful are misled into treating faith as a matter of the heart, not the mind—an opinion again not entirely false, but the cause of serious errors: distrust of learning on the one hand, and exaggerated trust of feelings on the other.

For me the breakthrough came when reading Thomas Aquinas on the virtue of faith. Faith, he says, is an intellectual virtue—the habit of mind that accepts true propositions on authority, sometimes because one hasn’t had the time yet or doesn’t have the capacity to know them scientifically (I’m not simply being elitist here; as Tocqueville wrote, even the philosopher must accept a thousand things on the authority of others), or because in this life, given the imperfection of our senses and our minds, we can at best know them “as through a glass darkly,” though we hope one day to know them clearly as we see God face to face.

Belief, says Aquinas, is between opinion and knowledge, far from ignorance, close to truth. The image I propose is of a staircase: the ascent to knowledge, every step higher, nevertheless requires planks to stand on along the way. Perhaps the greatest philosopher can climb a pole or rest sufficiently on the rungs of a ladder—but most of us ascend best by stairs, where merely stepping forward makes us step upward, little by little, and there are plenty of landings or places to rest. It is essential to this image, and to St. Thomas’s argument, that faith and science ultimately seek the same truth—and that, to most of us, is a matter of faith, for Christ said, I am the way, the truth, and the light. But if he told the truth—and how dare we doubt him on this point?—then we faithful have nothing to fear from science, nor scientists from faith, for we have the same end: knowledge of the truth about all things. I like to pray, “Lord, help us to see Christ in every truth we learn, and to look for truth in Christ.” If you notice that my argument supposes there is one true faith, I concede the point and invite you to consider which it is.

Now if I am right that we should see faith and reason as complementary, not conflicting, then we have within our hands an insight which can revolutionize the world of learning—within our faith tradition, we have resources that can restore the wholeness to learning, can give beauty back its luster, can even ennoble our political institutions by keeping the goods they secure in perspective. I don’t mean this will happen by suppressing science under faith, but by freeing the faithful from the fear that learning will cause them to lose their faith. Here is a task that will take a generation or more, that is not promised immediate reward or success, but which, against all appearance, makes the life of the Catholic in the university today the most exciting and demanding that I know.

The Problem with Bibliocism.

This post by Scott McKnight at Jesus Creed comes on the heels of a discussion at the CAA I've been having on the problem of "unchanging biblical truths."  I've been trying to get a few of the people there to explain how, if there are unchaging biblical truths, Protestatn doctrines can change over time.  My point has been that having an unchanging text doesn't mean unchanging doctrines in the absence of an unchanging interpretative tradition.

It's amazing to me how such an obvious point is apparently incomprehensible. 

McKnight's post discusses a forthcoming book by Christian Smith, "Bible Made Impossible: Why Biblicism is not a truly Evangelical reading of Scripture." McKnight writes:

His argument will look a bit like this: the problem is called biblicism (defined below).


1. He sees biblicism in evangelicalism (not all of it) and in most charismatic and Pentecostal Christianity.

2. Biblicism involves belief in the Bible’s exclusive authority, infallibility, perspicuity, self-sufficiency, internal consistency, self-evident meaning, and universal applicability.

3. Liberalism is the corrosion of historic orthodoxy and is intellectually naive and susceptible to some reprehensible social and political expressions, but opposing liberalism — which Smith does — does not lead to or require biblicism. There are other alternatives.

4. What ultimately defeats biblicism is “pervasive interpretive pluralism.” The Bible says and teaches different things — if you listen to biblicists carefully — about most significant topics. It is, he argues, meaningless to talk about the inerrancy of the text if the interpretation of that text is up for grabs.

5. His goal is to become more evangelical, not less, in approach to Scripture.

6. Christian Smith, a notable Christian sociologist, has become a Roman Catholic, but he wrote this book before that move took place. He had these problems with evangelicalism before he became Catholic, but these problems are part of the reason he became Catholic.

The Thin Veil explains:

Scot's post and the upcoming book hit right at the heart of two major flaws in Protestantism:


In order to trust the Bible you need to trust the Bible's origin. If you say the Catholic Church wasn't given the authority to define doctrines, then neither did she have the authority to define the books of the Bible back in the fourth century. How can Protestants be sure that the books that make up their Bible--and only those books--are the inspired Word of God? They can't accept them unless they take for granted the authority of Church.

Any appeal to Scripture is an appeal to an interpretation of Scripture. Biblical interpretation is really not a question of "what does the Bible say?" but "what do I or my community think the Bible says?" But what happens when two people think the same Bible verse means two different things? Why should someone believe the interpretation of this teacher, or that writer, or that church instead of others? It really boils down to the question of authority--who has the authority to ultimately explain the meaning of the text? The Catholic Church holds that her interpretation is the true one since she alone was given the authority of Christ (Matthew 16:19), an authority which has been passed down through the centuries. She alone was promised the protection of the Holy Spirit.

If there is no God, how do you explain the weird, nerdy "inside joke" that is the phenomenon of prime numbers?

From Io9:

If there's anything we learn from math teachers and the Da Vinci Code, it's that prime numbers are magic. They can do anything, and be anywhere. Including a doodle on a math paper.

In the 1960s, a gentleman known as Stanislaw Ulam was making his way through a miserable meeting by doodling on a piece of paper. Unlike most of us, who only manage to do 3D cubes and obscene drawings of people we don't like, Ulam tried filling his paper with math. And he discovered something very strange. Ulam drew a '1' at the center of his paper. Directly to the right of the one he drew a '2.' Above the two he drew '3', and continued spiralling the numbers outwards toward from the one. When he was done filling up the page, he decided to circle all the prime numbers - the numbers divisible only by one and themselves.

What he found was a lot of diagonal lines. They crisscrossed the paper, sometimes in short bursts and other times in long strings. While there are plenty of singularities and outliers, a large plot of the primes on Ulam's Spiral shows a remarkable density of diagonals. Further plotting with computers show that these diagonals appear even when the numbers get high, and even when the spiral doesn't originate with the number one. Change the spiral from one that's plotted on a grid to one that's plotted on a circular spiral, and the lines will change direction, but they'll still be there. Plot it on the hexagon - more lines.

It's things like this that make prime numbers so eery. They keep showing up in nature, in important functions, and in pure mathematical play. (I think they're the ghosts of ancient Greek numerals.)

Orwell v. God.

A pretty interesting essay on George Orwell's conflicted relationship with religion.

Reading the essay, you get a sense that Christopher Hitchens - the discount Orwellian wannabe - has modeled a lot of his attitudes on Orwell.

Per Se and Per Accidens.

Edward Feser explains the distinction.

This distinction shows up in Aquinas' discussion of "Man's last ends."

Absolutely speaking, it is not possible to proceed indefinitely in the matter of ends, from any point of view. For in whatsoever things there is an essential order of one to another, if the first be removed, those that are ordained to the first, must of necessity be removed also. Wherefore the Philosopher proves (Phys. viii, 5) that we cannot proceed to infinitude in causes of movement, because then there would be no first mover, without which neither can the others move, since they move only through being moved by the first mover. Now there is to be observed a twofold order in ends--the order of intention and the order of execution: and in either of these orders there must be something first. For that which is first in the order of intention, is the principle, as it were, moving the appetite; consequently, if you remove this principle, there will be nothing to move the appetite. On the other hand, the principle in execution is that wherein operation has its beginning; and if this principle be taken away, no one will begin to work. Now the principle in the intention is the last end; while the principle in execution is the first of the things which are ordained to the end. Consequently, on neither side is it possible to go to infinity since if there were no last end, nothing would be desired, nor would any action have its term, nor would the intention of the agent be at rest; while if there is no first thing among those that are ordained to the end, none would begin to work at anything, and counsel would have no term, but would continue indefinitely.


On the other hand, nothing hinders infinity from being in things that are ordained to one another not essentially but accidentally; for accidental causes are indeterminate. And in this way it happens that there is an accidental infinity of ends, and of things ordained to the end.

Father Baron on the death of Osama bin Laden



Tough words to live by.

The Economics of Eternal Damnation.

Posted on the new Theology for Dummies with regard to "Hipster Rob Bell “Discusses” Universalism."


A thought has been slowly developing in me based on a Thomistic insight. What if the existence of Hell, with the real possibility of damnation and all that implies, is necessary for our salvation simply because we are embodied beings?

We are embodied intellectuals beings. This means chiefly two things - first, we have temporal wants, and, second, we inhabit an intellectual world that is largely our own. This would tend to mean that we might overvalue our own temporal goods at the expense of collective goods and spiritual goods. Not surprisingly, we tend to "overconsume" immediate, temporal goods and "externalize" onto other people the costs of our overconsumption. We might call this "sin" as when we steal something belonging to another becuse we want it now.

One way to force us to "internalize" the true costs of our embodied nature is to pose a cost on us. Because of our calculating, concupiscent, economic nature, the less immediate that cost, the higher the cost has to be when imposed and the more credible the threat of imposition has to be.

We can see evidence of this practical reality of human nature from this study of comparitive behavior between Christians and nonbelievers, which concludes that there is no difference between the behavior of Christians and non-believers when it comes to cheating, unless the Christian believes in a "mean and retributive" God.

Now if behavior is important to salvation, then, ironically, Bell's preaching about a loving God who (probably) doesn't sen anyone to Hell is exactly the wrong message to preach if the aim is to save souls.

What do you think?