I. When the World Was What it Was
Once upon a time in the west we believed that there was a world that existed apart from us. There were many versions of how this was so, but the paradigm was clear: Entities and the properties that they instance are what they are apart from human awareness, perception, conception and language.
Aristotle (384-322 BCE) spoke of primary substances as the basic building blocks of the world. These substances have properties that are either present in them or can be said of them. Those properties that are present in the primary substances are called accidents. They inhere in primary substances, and constitute the way that the substances can be modified. Accidents are always parasitic on substances; they cannot obtain other than being in a primary substance. Aristotle identified nine accidents that primary substances could have: quantity, quality, relation, habit (state), time, location, position, action and passion.
Primary substances and their nine accidents constitute the ten categories Aristotle discusses in his book, The Categories. The important point is that the accidents do not individuate one substance from another. Rather, individuation of substances happens at an ontological level prior to accidents. Substances come already individuated, and these already individuated substances sustain accidents that that modify it; they constitute at any time how the substance is being the substance that it is.
For Aristotle, however, substances are more than their mere accidental properties. Certain things can be said of these primary substances, and that which can be said of primary substances are not accidental to these substances. For instance, 'man' can be said of Socrates, and the predication of 'man' to 'Socrates' is not an accident of Socrates, because while Socrates could presumably be Socrates and not have his snub nose, Socrates cannot be Socrates without being a man. In The Categories, Aristotle asserts that the secondary substance man is said of the primary substance Socrates. This said of relation concerns what is essential to Socrates, that without which Socrates could not be Socrates.
Secondary substances in Aristotle are clearly a reworking of Plato's notion of the forms. For Plato, the form man is instantiated at the location of Socrates and is accordingly that which is known when one knows Socrates as a man. Plato famously gives ontological priority to the forms (universals) over the concrete particulars that instantiate them. Aristotle's secondary substances, however, do not have the ontological priority Plato had given to the forms. For Aristotle, concrete primary substances are more real than the abstract secondary substances that can be said of them. Accordingly, the world for Aristotle is comprised of concrete primary substances having essential properties by virtue of the said of relation and accidental properties by virtue of the present in relation.
This basic way of seeing the world in terms of substances and properties was firmly in place by the thirteenth century with its so-called "rediscovery of Aristotle", and it survived throughout the Reformation and the trajectories of theological development arising immediately from it. The idea of substances possessing properties formed the basic metaphysical background on which both the physical world and the world of the divine rested. While it was always problematic in the theological tradition simply to think of God as a substance having properties, the idea that God is some thing existing on its own apart from human awareness, perception, conception and language seemed clear enough. While it might stretch language to call God a 'substance', God nevertheless does, like any substance, exist on its own and is individuated in itself. Accordingly, the world comes ready-made, both with respect to primary physical substances and the most important entity of all: God. Things are what they are apart from human beings. The ontological order is thus independent from the human epistemological activity of knowing it.
Aristotle and the tradition prior to the Enlightenment was thus realist with respect to its understanding of substances and the properties they might have. This realism extended to the notion of causality as well. Aristotle famously gave a four-fold analysis of causality, citing a material, formal, efficient and final cause for why a substance can give up some of its properties while assuming new ones. The idea is that any substance is what it is by virtue of it being "formed matter," or "actualized potentiality." Any object that is, is what it is by virtue of its individuating form which makes it a particular substance. Aristotle's hylomorphism claims that all substances are constituted by particular actualizations of that which could have been actualized in a different ways. A substance's nature constitutes the whatness by virtue of which an object is that which it is.
Change happens in two basic ways. If one substance is to cease and another substance begin, there must be a change in that substance's form. If a substance is to be modified some of its accidental properties must cease and others must rise. In both instances, the substances already posses the possibility of these transformations. What is needed is an efficient cause to collapse the possibility of this transformation into a determinate actualization. The substance water is potentially ice, but this potentiality is actualized when. temperatures reach a particular level.
Aristotle, however, saw the universe teleologically, and thus added a fourth cause to the material, formal and efficient causes. Trajectories of transformation must ultimately be explained in terms of purpose or final cause. The final cause of the acorn is an oak tree, and this cause operates in selecting among efficient causes to actualize substances in particular ways over time. The point of all of this is that Aristotle saw causality as built into the nature of things. For him, both substances and the causal connections in which they are ingredient have a determinate trajectory apart from human awareness, perception, conception and language.
While the language of substances, properties and causality seemed suited for conceiving the natural world, medieval thinkers knew that problems arose in using the Aristotelian categories to understand the divine. God clearly exists apart from us, but His having of properties is not like our having of properties, and any changes that might be attributed to Him cannot be the result of external efficient causality.
Of course, the tradition held that the perfection of God entailed his immutability. Were God to change, God would need to move from one state to another. But if God is perfect, God cannot move from one state to another because either God would have to move from a state of lesser perfection to a state of perfection -- and thus not be perfect -- or move from a state of perfection to a state of lesser perfection -- and thus not be perfect.
Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274) following much of the tradition famously argued for the divine simplicity of God by claiming property-talk of God does not pick out in God some properties that God may or may not have, but such talk merely is a way of characterizing, picking out, or referring to the divinely simple substance that is God. Accordingly, 'God is good' cannot mean that the substance God has the property of goodness, but is a picking out of some being without parts, a being of which one might attribute goodness merely analogically. Whatever God is in se, God is more like a being to which we might customarily attribute goodness than to a being to which we might customarily attribute evil.
When it came to Christology in the age of when the world was what it was, Christ had to be understood to be some kind of substance or person who had its own principle of individuality and who is what He is apart from human awareness, perception, conception and language. Such a person has natures or batches of properties, some of which are essential and some accidental for Christ being the person He is. The Trinity and incarnation must be understood realistically. Just as the world is what it is apart from us, so is Christ and his Trinitarian and incarnational relationships what they are apart from us. Human salvation too must be understood realistically. The believer is a person who is who she is, and Christ who is who He is apart from her (and us) effects a transformation of the believer (either intrinsically or extrinsically) such that the properties that the person has are themselves changed. All of this could be talked about through Aristotelian notions of causality. On the basis of a final cause, there is an efficient cause that collapses potentiality into actuality; indeterminate matter is formed. Accordingly, the real ontic unity of theosis must be understood metaphysically. There are properties of believer and properties of Christ such that parts of the believer change and the believer is not that which the believer once was.
Since what I am attempting here is merely a sketch of that time when the world was what it was, I will not develop further here a fully metaphysical Christology except to say that Christology had to be understood metaphysically at this time. This is not to say that this metaphysical understanding was all that there was to Christology. The relation of sin, justification, faith, and regeneration is complex, and, as Luther taught us, metaphysical categories strain to express the reality of God and his relationship to us.
II. When the World was What it was For Us
Kant (1724-1804) famously argued that we have no immediate experience to thing-in-themselves, but only things in so far as they already are for us. Kant argued that the realm of the thing-in-itself was supersensible because no human senses could put us into touch with this realm. Knowledge of the world we experience proceeds, for Kant, through our encounter with objects already constituted by us. Conception without perception if void and perception without conception is blind.
Kant's solution to the problem that had beset Descartes (1596-1650) and had become acute in the British empiricists -- the problem of the external world -- was that while we do not have immediate access to the external world apart from us, we do encounter the external world as already organized by us. This means inter alia the the "externality of the world," the contour of the world as it is presumably apart from us is already a product of us. We have mediated access to the external world. Accordingly, when we know the external world, we know our representation (organization) of it. While the realm of experience may be a "joint product" of mind and external world, we only have access to that which is already organized by the mind. Accordingly, knowing the other -- the otherness of the world -- is to know ourselves profoundly, for we are the ones organizing the world of experience.
Kant inaugurated the tradition of transcendental reflection: What are the necessary conditions for the possibility of experience itself? Kant argued plausibly that the contingency of the world is grounded both in the necessary structures by which we organize percepts in space and time and those necessary concepts that function as rules by which the manifold of perception is united.
After Kant the world was not the same. The world does not come as it is in itself, a world so metaphysically regular that we can find general categories by which to comprehend it, rather the world comes bearing the marks of the determining judgments of the human understanding by which objects take on the general features they do. Famously, the world is not in itself an arena in which self-determining substances are what they are while being causally connected one to the other. Rather the world reflects the very order we put upon it. Just as we are autonomous with respect to morality, so are we with respect to the external world. We are the law-makers of each realm! Since we are law-makers of the moral and worldly, we gain insight into ourselves when we know the world. Knowing the other happens only in and through knowing ourselves, our capacities and proclivities of organization. While the world apart from us -- the supersensible realm -- remains hidden in itself, we know something about it by examining the capacities we have to reflect it.
Kant, and not Fichte, was in many ways the author of German idealism. Kant knew that the world was reflected in our activity of reflecting upon our own reflecting. The transcendental world is not like the old world-in-itself. In the transcendental world, we find not things in the world, but rather things as they show themselves in their aboutness of the world in us. While the older Aristotelian way of thinking posits primary substances existing on their own, Kant's objects are those by concepts of which the manifold of experience is united. Transcendental questions don't deal with the world, but the conditions by which the world is the world. To explore the transcendental horizon is to dig deeper than the world in order to find those structures which make the world possible. The world as world is made possible by that transcendental unity of apperception by and through which the world in its particularity is birthed.
The story after Kant is so well known that it scarcely needs repeating. Fichte denied the cut between the world in itself and the world for us, and thus ridded philosophy of that which cannot be accessed and is not needed to explain the particularity of the world. Accordingly, when it comes to the world, the spade does not need to stop somewhere in some dull non-conscious things existing somewhere outside us waiting to be known. For Fichte, all that is necessary is that one thinks, and in one's thinking the world in its particularity is born.
Fichte's take on Kant motivated subsequent thinkers like Shelling and Hegel to reflect upon their acts of reflection, an act they called "speculation" from the Latin word for mirror, speculum. To reflect on reflecting is no longer to access things, but to reflect on those conditions by and through which things are organized before us.
Kant, Fichte, Shelling and Hegel together constitute a trajectory of thinking that denies the immediacy of the world. The world is not what it is apart from human awareness, perception, conception and language, and there can be no immediate apprehension of it. Instead our apprehension of the world is mediated by the particularity of our perceptual and conceptual organizing activity. But while all of these thinkers knew that knowing the world is mediated by the particularity of that by which the world is known -- the human epistemic apparatus --- they nonetheless followed Descartes in assuming that they can directly know themselves. We have access to our own ideas, after all! While our ideas or "representations" constitute a screen through which the world is known, there is no screen at all between us and our ideas.
Descartes had argued that while I can conceive of a scenario in which my seeming knowledge of the world is not genuine knowledge, I cannot conceive of a scenario in which my seeming knowledge of myself is not genuine knowledge. Since the condition of doubt is that there exists one who doubts, the condition for doubting the immediacy of the world is the immediacy of the self doubting. While critical thought can dislodge the immediacy of the world in its doubting the world, it cannot dislodge the immediacy of the self as the transcendental condition for the possibility of doubting the world.
Accordingly, while Kant is wary of trusting that the world really is in se what it appears to be pro nobis, he seemingly gives transcendental reflection a complete pass. There is a transcendental unity of apperception that makes possible the unity of our experience, and while we can legitimately question whether the unity of our experience rests upon how the world might be apart from us, we cannot question what the transcendental unity of apperception might be apart from our apprehension of it. Clearly, the game has changed. There is no longer a world that is what it is apart from human awareness, perception, conception and language. Human beings give natural laws to the order of nature. However, the necessary conditions for the possibility of experience as such are what they are apart from human awareness, perception, conception and language. In transcendental reflection we reach an arena of objectivity. While the world is mediately known, we have an immediate apprehension in transcendental reflection of that by which the world is mediately known.
By the time of Hegel (1770-1831), however, problems with this picture are emerging. Hegel knew that the categories by which the world is known are not simply objectively present and ready for the fateful gaze of transcendental reflection. They are not simply "shot from the pistol," but are themselves dynamic and in play historically. Hegel recognized that the subject's grasp of its own self through its categories were at issue if one could not explain how the dynamism of the categories is itself objective. Accordingly, Hegel's move to absolute knowledge is a move by which the immediacy of the categories could be restored.
If knowledge is at all to be possible, there must be a perspective that gets to the thing itself. If this is not the world, then it must be those transcendental conditions by which the world becomes world. Since the immediacy of those transcendental conditions cannot be vouchsafed any longer by the subject, these conditions must be guaranteed by the Absolute that "takes up" all conditioned finite perspectives, whose taking up itself is necessary for the writing of books about the "taking up." The Absolute Idea unfolds through concepts allowing the grasping of transcendental content, a historically mediated grasping that grants an immediacy to that which would otherwise remain wholly mediated.
Notice that as the world became what it is for us, the world of as it is for us was true both of the manifest image of the world as well as its scientific image (Sellars). The manifest image of the world is clearly not the world as it is in itself. The scientific image which tries to explain those mechanisms by virtue of which the world is manifest, however, is often assumed to be what ultimately is the case. However, it is clear that if there is no immediate access to the world in itself as the manifest world, there can be no such access to the world in itself as the scientific world of mechanisms by virtue of which the world is manifest. The scientific world with all of its objective structures is a world that cannot be more immediate than the manifest world. Accordingly, it is a world for us. The manifest image of the world and the scientific image of it do not deal with the world as it is apart from human awareness, perception, conception and language. Simply put, the world bears the marks of that for whom it is a world.
Kant, Fichte, Schelling and Hegel had theological aspirations, of course. While much has been written about the the changed metaphysical climate after Kant, not as much has been written about the relevance of this changed climate for theology. If we cannot know the supersensible world -- if the very notion of the supersensuous drives us beyond the bounds of all possible experience -- we cannot also know any regions of that supersensuous realm, e.g., theology. Kant, of course, recognized this and claimed that he "had done away with knowledge of God to make room for faith."
Kant had argued that the categories of substance and causality cannot apply to objects outside the realm of the phenomena. This means, inter alia, that one cannot apply 'substance' or 'causality' to God. God cannot be a substance bearing causal relations to other substances because there are no precepts being united to organize experience into one in which there are gods. Gods do not exist in the phenomenal, and there are no metaphysical arguments showing conclusively that God must exist. One might believe in the realm of the supersensible, but one cannot ever know those supersensible substances putatively causally connected to other supersensible entities or entities in the world.
While knowing the external world occurs when we know the ways we have organized that external world -- when we know ourselves properly! -- knowing the supersensible world is not possible even though we are again thinking about our thinking. Thinking about our thinking with regard to the phenomenal gives discrete knowable experience. Thinking about our thinking with regard to the noumenal does not issue in any knowable experience, but rather can only put us in touch with our way of thinking. Theology does not give experience, but it does constitute a way of thinking.
So how must Christology proceed on the other side of Kant? Given that we have no epistemic right to claim that we know the divine/human constitution -- nor the causality through which the divine person in Jesus of Nazereth effects salavation -- what do we do when doing theology and thinking our philosophy rightly? What ought be the ways forward in Christology on the other side of Kant? What does theology become when its world is a world that is only for us?
Since concepts are rules of possible syntheses, relating concepts in Christology must be a relating of ways in which such syntheses might relate to each other. What can "two natures in one person" mean in the non-metaphysics of post-Kantian reflection? After all, to speak of divine and human nature is to speak of that which lies beyond human experience. Add the notion of 'person' to the mix and we are talking about the ordering of our ideas and not about the synthesis of experience. Our ideas do not constitute experience, but they are important in how we must think aspects of our experience.
Kant famously saw Christology as flowing from morality, and understood that human beings are unavoidably in the middle of moral life, even though moral life is not one of experience. There will be much more exploration of this in later posts, but for now we must continue our story beyond when the world was what is was for us to when the world turned ceased to be for us at all. We must examine what happens when the world becomes worldless.
III. Beyond the World as it was For Us
When the world was what it was, the world was in itself what it was. The trajectory of thinking inaugurated by Kant gave a world no longer in itself, but a world now merely for us. When the world was in itself, the world was known in its immediacy. When the world became what it is for us, the world was known in its mediacy. Both the in itself and the for itself of the world nonetheless presupposes that there was an immediacy to that by which the world is known in itself and for itself.
Transcendental reflection that had dislodged the immediacy of the world nonetheless presupposed its immediate graspability. While Hegel increasingly realized that no Archimedean standpoint for transcendental reflection existed, his creative attempt to understand the various limited standpoints of transcendental reflection as manifestations of an unconditioned Absolute transcendental perspective that yet united the limited, conditioned, historically-mediated acts of transcendental reflection, kept at bay for a time the dawning realization that our acts of reflection are mediated as well, that is to say, there is no immediate access to ourselves. Our putative privileged access to the contents of our own mind is a chimera. While Descartes was often deluded about his access to the external world, we thinkers after Kant have been deluded about our access to our own thinking.
The age that dawned after the age of the world as it is for us, is an age that increasingly took seriously that by virtue of which we thought we knew ourselves: it took seriously the language by and through which we thought we had found ourselves. This attention to language occurred both in the Anglo-American and the Continental expressions of philosophy, though in different ways. The story here is complex and filled with surprising turns in trajectory. Simply put, the twentieth century was an age that increasingly came to recognize that our capacities of self-representation are dependent upon others in surprising ways: our concepts, language and values are not our possessions by which we can objectively explore both the world and our own exploration of the world, but are themselves historically-conditioned social products.
The words we use we did not create, and the concepts by which we think, we have learned from others -- mostly through the words that we did not create. Every act of thinking employs concepts that have been bequeathed to us by tradition. The days of thinking of language as a "tool kit" to grasp the objectivity of meaning are long gone. We know too much. Our so-called transcendental horizon is not the "unvarnished good news" that Quine once called the "myth of the given." Just as there is no givenness to experience apart from our historically-conditioned conceptuality by and through which such experience arises, there is no givenness either to transcendental structures of reflection. Transcendental reflection cannot escape the historicity of experience itself, a historicity that grasps the impossibility of reflecting objectively upon the conditions of reflection itself. Just as "looks red" presupposes "is red" (Sellars), so does the apprehension of transcendental structures presuppose the conceptuality of such structures, a conceptuality given through language socially.
Heidegger (1889-1976) famously uncovered the living and breathing ontology through and by which human beings make and live meaning. We are creatures of meaning embedded within worlds of meaning that we did not construct. We who in our being ask the question of the meaning of being, necessarily ask the question within the historically messy process of the history of being. Ultimately, Heidegger claimed, our takes on being are themselves a working out of be-ing as it is in and through our thinking. But, for Heidegger, this Be-ing in its history is no Absolute that can in Hegelian fashion "take up" various understandings of be-ing and somehow come to itself deeply in its own thinking. The history of Be-ing cannot be the God of the tradition of the Absolute of Hegel, this Be-ing in its history is nowhere and no place, and it cannot be accessed by itself. It is deeply and necessarily so hidden that Heidegger in speaking it must use the language of "the last God."
We live in the world beyond the world as it was for us. This world is not in itself, not for itself, and definitely not in and for itself. This world is, in fact, worldless. It is a world suspicious of meta-narratives (Lyotard), of comprehensive attempts to find in the world discrete trajectories of rationality or progress.
Once there was the a world that really was in itself. After the death of this world, there was a self that really was in itself. Post-modernity is the celebration of both the death of the world and the self, a celebration that must be in a certain sense ecstatic because there is no longer a self-possessed self through and by which the self can clearly conceive and pronounce its own death. Our current time is an age where the screens have overwhelmed the capacity of either the world or the self to manifest themselves clearly upon them. We are without foundations; it is turtles all the way down.
Living beyond the world in itself is difficult for theology. God understood along the lines of world or self, could be a God that is still somehow understood. But when the self lives ecstatically on the basis of concepts and language that are not its own, then there are no places any longer for God to lay His head. After all, God is by definition incapable of ecstatic existence. God cannot be carried along or constituted upon differential fields that somehow account for intermittent manifestations of identity. If anything is, it would seem, God is. There are no parts to God. God is that identity by and through which all difference is ultimately understood.
So what does one do with Christology in an age beyond the age of the world for us? In our age where all immediacy is blocked, everything that seemingly is, is dependent upon something that it is not. Just as the identity of the world turned out to be dependent upon that which is different from the world -- its putative transcendental structures -- and the identity of the self turned out to be dependent upon that which is different from the self -- the concepts and language of historically-conditioned social communities -- so too do our fleeting perspectives arising out of particular historically-conditioned social communities find a deeper difference out of which language and thought emerges, a difference that is Other than the historically-conditioned linguistically bequeathed by culture and tradition, a difference that must ultimately be Other than the world and all its putative foundations. We are very close now to the beginnings of our tradition, a tradition claiming that out of nothing comes something.
What is needed is to think Christology radically after not only the deconstruction of onto-theology (Heidegger), but the de-structuring itself of that deconstruction. Thinking Christology beyond the phenomenological presencing that putatively once gave rise to onto-theology, is to bring into focus clearly the Abyss that is either unsupported and provides no support, or unsupported that provides support, or somehow itself supported. What is Christ in such a situation, and what could a real ontic unity between Christ and the Christian be? But the development of these ideas must await another time. What is needed is a Christology in a time when the world is not.
