Showing posts with label Luther. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Luther. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 10, 2026

Nota Trinitaria on Teleo-Spaces: Intelligibility, Normativity, and the Limits of Subjectivity

Methodological Prolegomenon: On Axioms and Ontological Interpretation

This note proceeds axiomatically. That claim requires clarification at the outset.

By axiom I do not mean a syntactic postulate belonging to a purely formal system and awaiting semantic interpretation. Nor do I mean a rule of inference abstracted from its subject matter. The axioms articulated below are already ontologically interpreted constraints. They name what must be the case if intelligibility, normativity, and determination are to be possible at all without collapsing either into brute determinism or into transcendental subjectivism.

The model-theoretic background is decisive here. In classical model theory, axioms belong to the syntax of a theory, while interpretation assigns domains, relations, and functions. That separation is not operative in the present inquiry. The subject matter—divine action, intelligibility, and participation—does not permit a purely formal staging prior to interpretation. To insist on such neutrality would already be to decide the issue in favor of a subject-centered or formalist reduction.

Accordingly, the axioms that follow function as axioms of orientation. They do not generate models by derivation; they delimit what counts as a coherent model at all. Their necessity is not formal but transcendental in the strict sense: they arise from reflection on the conditions under which determination, meaning, and normativity can occur without regress or arbitrariness.

One further clarification is required. The axioms are structurally ordered, not inferentially ordered. Later axioms presuppose earlier ones, but none is derived from another. Each names an irreducible condition that must be respected simultaneously.

Section 1. Axioms Governing Teleo-Spaces


Axiom I (Differentiated Possibility)

There exist real, pre-determinable loci of possibility that are numerically differentiated prior to intelligibility and prior to any determination.

Differentiation must be ontologically real if determination is to be more than brute fact. If this rather than that is ever to occur intelligibly, there must already be a plurality of possibilities such that one outcome can be distinguished from another. This plurality cannot itself be the product of determination without circularity. Difference must already obtain.

The loci named here are not determinate entities, properties, or meanings. They are not universals awaiting instantiation nor semantic contents awaiting interpretation. They are addressable particularity: a real “that” prior to any “what.” This claim blocks two familiar reductions at once. Against Platonist inflation, it refuses to treat possibility as a realm of determinate forms. Against nominalist arbitrariness, it refuses to treat difference as brute haecceity without ground.

Axiom II (Determinability)

Determinability is an ontological condition of determination and is not itself a determinate structure, entity, or higher-order determination.

Determinability must be distinguished both from determinacy and from indeterminacy. If determinability is treated as a determinate structure, it becomes one more item requiring the same kind of explanation as determinate facts, and explanatory regress resumes. If it is treated as mere indeterminacy, intelligibility dissolves into a negative limit incapable of grounding meaning.

Determinability is therefore positive but non-determinate. It is the condition under which determinations can occur meaningfully without being pre-fixed. It halts regress not by stipulation but by category: it is not the kind of thing that can itself be determined in the way determinate facts are.

Axiom III (Teleo-Spaces)

There exist teleo-spaces: intelligible fields of determinability in which determinate actuality can occur meaningfully without closure.

Teleo-spaces name the ontological form of intelligibility. They are not objects, frameworks, or conceptual schemes imposed by subjects. Nor are they merely regulative ideals. They are real structures of room for sense—fields within which what is given can become determinate as meaningful rather than arbitrary.

A teleo-space is determinable without being determinate. It orders possibilities toward articulation and truth without exhausting them in a final inventory of outcomes. To deny teleo-spaces is to force a false alternative: either mechanistic determinism, in which only determinate facts exist, or subjectivist construction, in which determinacy is produced by synthesis. Teleo-spaces articulate a third possibility: intelligibility as ontologically real yet open.

Axiom IV (Normative Weighting)

Within teleo-spaces, possibilities are normatively weighted, and this weighting is real, efficacious, and not dependent upon human subjectivity.

A mere field of determinability does not suffice to explain determination. If all possibilities were equally available, the emergence of determinate actuality would be arbitrary unless grounded either in brute causation or in subjective preference. Weighting names the reality that possibilities press unequally toward actuality; this rather than that is not sheer happenstance.

This weighting must not be construed as coercive. It does not force outcomes or collapse openness. Rather, it orders without closure and draws without determination. Crucially, it is not dependent upon human consciousness. Cosmic, biological, and historical determinations do not wait upon acts of recognition to become real. Human judgment often serves as a site where determinability resolves into determinate decision, but the normative pressures that make such decisions intelligible are not generated by the subject.

Axiom V (Trinitarian Differentiation)

The ontological conditions named in Axioms I–IV require a Trinitarian articulation: differentiated possibility, intelligibility, and normative weighting must be grounded in irreducibly distinct modes of divine action within the unity of God.

If differentiated possibility, intelligibility, and weighting are all real and irreducible, they cannot be collapsed into a single undifferentiated explanatory principle without loss. Nor can they be reassigned to finite subjectivity without reintroducing the transcendental reflex that terminates explanation in the subject.

The Christian doctrine of the Trinity provides the minimal metaphysical grammar required. Creation, as the donation of differentiated possibility, belongs to the Father. Intelligibility, as the constitution of teleo-spaces, belongs to the Son, the Logos. Normative weighting, as ordering without coercion, belongs to the Holy Spirit. Human subjectivity then finds its proper place: not as ground, but as participant; not as origin of intelligibility, but as responder within what is already given, intelligible, and normatively ordered.

Section 2. The Problem of Subjectivity and the Location of Determination

The axioms articulated in the preceding section are not speculative additions to an otherwise settled framework. They arise under pressure from a persistent problem in modern thought: the difficulty of locating determination without collapsing it either into brute causation or into subjectivity.

Modern philosophy has rightly resisted naïve realism. It has learned that intelligibility is not simply read off from the world, that normativity cannot be reduced to causal regularity, and that meaning does not float free of conditions. Yet in resisting naïveté, it has developed a characteristic reflex. When pressed to account for intelligibility, it terminates explanation in the subject. When pressed to account for normativity, it appeals to recognition or ethical demand. When pressed to account for determination, it invokes judgment, decision, or synthesis.

This reflex is not accidental. Once intelligibility is detached from ontology, it must be relocated somewhere. And the most readily available candidate is subjectivity. What cannot be explained as brute fact is explained as constituted. What cannot be grounded in nature is grounded in agency. The result is a progressive inflation of the subject, which comes to bear explanatory burdens it cannot sustain.

The difficulty is not that subjectivity plays no role in determination. It plainly does. Human judgment, decision, and action often serve as the sites at which determinable possibilities collapse into determinate actuality. But to move from this observation to the claim that subjectivity grounds determination is a category mistake. It confuses where determination occurs with what makes it possible.

The axioms stated above mark the refusal of this confusion. They insist that the conditions of determination must be ontological rather than epistemic, real rather than projected, and prior to subjectivity rather than constituted by it. Differentiated possibility, determinability, intelligibility, and normative weighting must already be in place if subjectivity is to function as more than arbitrary choice or mechanical response.

This insistence carries a cost. It requires rejecting the comforting thought that the subject is the final court of appeal. It also requires resisting the equally comforting move of evacuating ontology in favor of ethics. Yet the alternative is worse. If intelligibility is not real prior to recognition, then truth collapses into coherence. If normativity is not real prior to decision, then obligation collapses into preference. If determination is not real prior to judgment, then agency collapses into self-assertion.

What is needed, therefore, is an account in which subjectivity is neither denied nor exalted. Subjectivity must be located within a reality already structured by intelligibility and normativity. It must be responsive rather than constitutive, participatory rather than foundational.

This is precisely what the axioms governing teleo-spaces make possible. By distinguishing differentiated possibility from intelligibility, intelligibility from determination, and weighting from coercion, they allow subjectivity to be real without being ultimate. The subject does not create meaning, but it can acknowledge it. The subject does not generate normativity, but it can answer to it. The subject does not originate determination, but it can enact it.

At this point the inquiry necessarily becomes theological. For the structure just described cannot be sustained by metaphysics alone. The distinction between donation, intelligibility, and weighting requires not merely conceptual differentiation but ontological distinction within unity. It requires a grammar capable of naming real difference without division and real unity without collapse.

That grammar is given in the Christian confession of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Before turning to modern philosophy’s attempts to relocate intelligibility and normativity within subjectivity, we must therefore ask whether the Christian doctrine of the Word and the Spirit already provides the resources needed to resist that relocation.

It is to Luther’s account of the Word as divine act and the Spirit as efficacious presence that we now turn.

Section 3. Luther: Word, Spirit, and the Extra Nos of Intelligibility

The Trinitarian structure implicit in the axioms governing teleo-spaces is not an abstract metaphysical overlay imposed upon Christian theology. It is already operative—though not formally articulated—in Luther’s account of the Word and the Holy Spirit. Indeed, one can read Luther as struggling, with remarkable consistency, to prevent precisely the collapse of intelligibility and normativity into subjectivity that later becomes programmatic in modern philosophy.

At the heart of Luther’s theology lies the insistence that the Word of God is extra nos. This claim is often treated as a soteriological or pastoral assertion: the gospel must come from outside the self if it is to console the anxious conscience. But the force of extra nos is not merely psychological. It is ontological. The Word does not derive its meaning, authority, or efficacy from the subject who hears it. It addresses the subject because it already bears meaning and authority in itself.

This point bears directly on the first two axioms. Luther presupposes a reality that is differentiated prior to human understanding. God’s Word is not a projection of faith, nor a crystallization of religious experience. It confronts the hearer as something given, something that can be resisted, misunderstood, or rejected. This presupposes a plurality of possibilities—belief and unbelief, trust and refusal—that are not generated by the act of hearing itself. Differentiated possibility is real before faith, not produced by it.

Yet Luther is equally clear that the Word is not a bare datum. It is not an inert object awaiting interpretation. The Word does what it says. This is the logic of verbum efficax: proclamation is not mere description but divine action. Here Luther implicitly affirms the ontological reality of intelligibility. The Word does not become meaningful because the subject synthesizes it into a conceptual scheme. It is meaningful because God speaks. Intelligibility is given, not achieved.

This is where the Logos dimension becomes decisive. Luther does not speculate about the Logos in metaphysical terms, but his theology presupposes that what is spoken by God is already articulated in such a way that it can be heard, trusted, and confessed. The Word is not an inarticulate force. It is intelligible address. In the language developed earlier, the Word constitutes a teleo-space: a field of determinability in which faith, unbelief, obedience, and resistance become possible as meaningful determinations rather than as brute reactions.

The role of the Holy Spirit sharpens the picture further. Luther’s doctrine of the Spirit is explicitly anti-subjectivist. The Spirit does not function as an inner interpreter who supplements an otherwise incomplete Word. Nor does the Spirit merely ratify what the subject already understands. Rather, the Spirit is the divine agent who makes the Word effective—who brings about faith where and when it pleases God.

This efficacy must be carefully understood. The Spirit does not coerce belief. Luther is emphatic on this point. Faith cannot be forced; it is not mechanically produced. Yet neither is faith a voluntary construction. The Spirit works through the Word by pressing upon the hearer, by creating a situation in which trust becomes possible and refusal becomes culpable. This language of pressure, drawing, and address corresponds closely to what has been described above as normative weighting.

The Spirit’s work, for Luther, is therefore neither deterministic nor subjectivist. The Spirit does not bypass human agency, but neither does he depend upon it. Faith occurs in the subject, but it is not grounded in the subject. The Spirit weights the teleo-space opened by the Word such that trust in the promise is no longer arbitrary. One is addressed, summoned, and claimed. Yet the response remains genuinely human.

This structure allows Luther to hold together what modern accounts often tear apart. On the one hand, faith is a real determination—it is something that happens, something that can be named, confessed, and lived. On the other hand, faith is not a self-grounding act. It is the outcome of divine action operating within an intelligible and normatively ordered space that precedes the subject’s response.

What is crucial for present purposes is that Luther never allows the conditions of intelligibility or normativity to migrate into subjectivity. The Word remains extra nos. The Spirit remains Lord. The subject remains hearer and responder. In this way, Luther preserves precisely the asymmetry named in the axioms: donation without intelligibility (creation), intelligibility without closure (Word), and weighting without coercion (Spirit).

This does not mean that Luther offers a worked-out metaphysical account of teleo-spaces. He does not. But it does mean that his theology is disciplined by a grammar that modern subject-centered accounts often abandon. For Luther, the world is already structured by divine address before it is structured by human understanding. Normativity presses upon us before we choose. Determination occurs in us, but not from us.

With this in view, we are now in a position to see modern philosophy for what it is: not a neutral clarification of conditions, but a series of increasingly radical attempts to relocate the conditions Luther keeps extra nos. The next step, therefore, is to examine how this relocation unfolds—beginning with Immanuel Kant, for whom the conditions of intelligibility are explicitly transferred to transcendental subjectivity.

Section 4. Kant: The Transcendental Relocation of Intelligibility

With Kant the modern problematic comes fully into view. What Luther held extra nos—the intelligibility and normativity of the Word—Kant relocates, with great philosophical sophistication, into the structures of subjectivity itself. This relocation is not accidental, nor is it merely an expression of Enlightenment hubris. It is the result of a principled attempt to secure intelligibility without reverting to dogmatic metaphysics.

Kant’s fundamental question is not theological but epistemological: how are synthetic a priori judgments possible? How can judgments be both universally binding and informative without appealing to metaphysical insight into things as they are in themselves? Kant’s answer is well known. The conditions of possible experience—space, time, and the categories—are not derived from objects but supplied by the subject. Intelligibility is secured not by participation in an ontological order but by the transcendental activity of synthesis.

This move has genuine force. Kant rightly sees that intelligibility cannot be read off from empirical givenness alone. He also rightly resists the idea that reason can simply intuit metaphysical structures. In this sense, Kant preserves a critical insight that earlier metaphysics often lacked: intelligibility is conditioned. It is not immediate access to reality as such.

Yet in securing intelligibility, Kant makes a decisive shift. The conditions under which anything can appear as an object of experience are no longer ontological but transcendental-subjective. The categories do not articulate being; they articulate experience. Teleology, too, is displaced. Where earlier thought could treat purposiveness as a feature of reality, Kant restricts teleology to the reflective judgment of the subject. Purpose becomes a way we must think nature, not a way nature is.

From the perspective of the axioms governing teleo-spaces, this marks a fundamental relocation. Differentiated possibility is no longer grounded in reality as such, but in the manifold as structured by intuition. Determinability is no longer an ontological condition, but a function of conceptual synthesis. Teleo-spaces, if they can still be named at all, are no longer real fields of intelligibility but regulative frameworks imposed by the subject in order to make sense of appearances.

The consequences of this relocation are far-reaching. Once intelligibility is secured by the subject, normativity must follow suit. Obligation becomes a function of rational autonomy rather than of ontological weight. The moral law binds because reason legislates it to itself, not because reality presses upon the agent with normative force. Kant’s moral philosophy is therefore the ethical analogue of his epistemology: normativity is preserved, but only at the cost of detaching it from being.

This detachment is precisely what the axioms resist. Normative weighting, as described earlier, must be real prior to recognition if determination is to be non-arbitrary. Kant’s framework can explain why we must judge as we do, but it struggles to explain why this rather than that occurs in reality except by appeal to phenomenal causation or noumenal freedom—neither of which can bear the explanatory load Kant assigns them.

What is lost in Kant’s relocation is not merely metaphysical realism but the possibility of a coherent account of participation. If intelligibility and normativity are functions of subjectivity, then the subject cannot meaningfully be said to respond to reality. It can only organize or legislate. The asymmetry preserved by Luther—Word addressing, Spirit pressing, subject responding—collapses into symmetry. The subject becomes both the source and the measure of intelligibility.

This is not a flaw Kant overlooks; it is a cost he knowingly accepts. Yet once that cost is paid, theology faces a dilemma. Either it must translate divine action into the language of moral postulates and regulative ideas, or it must retreat into the unknowable noumenal realm. In either case, the extra nos structure that Luther insists upon is dissolved.

The subsequent trajectory of modern thought can be read as a series of attempts to mitigate this loss. Edmund Husserl will attempt to recover givenness by radicalizing intuition, while Emmanuel Levinas will displace intelligibility into ethical alterity. Both moves are intelligible responses to Kant’s relocation. Neither, however, reverses it.

It is to Husserl’s attempt to ground intelligibility in intuition rather than in synthesis that we now turn.

Section 4. Husserl: Intuition, Constitution, and the Relocation of Intelligibility

The transition from Luther to modern philosophy is not abrupt. It is mediated. And it is mediated above all by the attempt to preserve givenness after the collapse of classical metaphysics. If Kant secures intelligibility by relocating its conditions into transcendental synthesis, then Edmund Husserl represents the most serious effort to recover what Kant appeared to have lost: the sense that meaning is not merely imposed, but given.

For this reason, Husserl stands between Luther and Levinas in a decisive way. Like Luther, he resists the reduction of meaning to construction. Like Levinas, he senses that intelligibility exceeds conceptual closure. Yet unlike Luther, and unlike the Trinitarian grammar developed here, Husserl ultimately secures this excess by relocating it within transcendental subjectivity itself.

Husserl’s Principle of Principles—that whatever is given in originary intuition is to be accepted just as it is given—marks a genuine advance over Kant. Intuition is no longer treated as a passive receptacle structured by forms of sensibility, but as the site of fulfillment in which meaning presents itself. Meaning is not inferred, nor merely regulated; it is seen. In this respect, Husserl is right to insist that intelligibility is not an achievement of inference but a mode of givenness.

Yet the price of this insistence becomes clear as phenomenology unfolds. Givenness is not allowed to be ontological in the robust sense. What is given is given to consciousness, and objectivity is secured through constitution. The world is not denied, but its intelligibility is indexed to intentional life. Objects are what they are as correlates of noetic–noematic structures. Horizonality, profile, and fulfillment function as conditions of appearance, but they do so within the space of transcendental subjectivity.

This is where Husserl’s brilliance coincides with his limitation. He sees, with exceptional clarity, that determinacy presupposes determinability. No object is ever given exhaustively; every determination stands within a horizon of further possible determination. In this sense, Husserl comes very close to the logic of teleo-spaces. He understands that intelligibility requires openness, excess, and non-closure.

What he does not do—and what phenomenology as such cannot do—is allow this openness to be ontological prior to subjectivity. Horizonality is secured by consciousness itself. The determinable is ultimately grounded in intentional life. The collapse from determinability into determination, when it occurs, occurs through acts of fulfillment, recognition, or synthesis. Weighting, salience, and relevance are all functions of intentional structures.

From the standpoint of the axioms governing teleo-spaces, this constitutes a decisive relocation. Intelligibility is no longer something the world bears prior to being encountered. It is something that emerges through encounter. The subject does not merely participate in intelligibility; it underwrites it.

The Trinitarian account advanced here breaks with this move at its root. Teleo-spaces are not constituted by transcendental subjectivity. They are not dependent upon intuition, however originary. They are ontological conditions grounded in the Logos. Intelligibility precedes its disclosure. Meaning is real before it is seen. Determinability is not secured by horizon-consciousness, but by the Son as the one in whom what is given is already articulated as intelligible.

Likewise, the Spirit’s activity cannot be assimilated to intentional weighting. Normative pressure does not arise from structures of attention or fulfillment. It is not a function of salience within consciousness. It is the Spirit’s work of ordering and drawing within reality itself—prior to recognition, though never coercive of response. Weighting happens whether or not it is thematized. It presses before it is judged.

In this way, the Trinitarian grammar preserves what Husserl rightly sought without inheriting the subjectivist termination his project requires. Yes, intelligibility involves openness and excess. Yes, determination always occurs against a background of further possibility. But no, these conditions do not belong to consciousness as such. They belong to reality as created, articulated, and ordered by God.

Husserl therefore represents not a rejection of Kant, but a refinement of Kant’s relocation of intelligibility. What Kant secured through synthesis, Husserl secures through intuition. In both cases, the subject remains the final site of intelligibility. What is gained is phenomenological richness. What is lost is the extra nos structure that Luther insists upon and that the Trinitarian account of teleo-spaces restores.

The next step in the modern trajectory is not further refinement but displacement. If intelligibility cannot finally be grounded in ontology without dogmatism, and cannot be grounded in subjectivity without inflation, then it must be displaced elsewhere. It is this displacement—into ethical alterity rather than ontological order—that defines the move made by Emmanuel LevinasIt is to that move that we now turn.

Section 5. Levinas: Ethical Alterity and the Displacement of Ontology

If Husserl represents the most refined attempt to secure intelligibility within transcendental subjectivity, Emmanuel Levinas represents a decisive refusal of that entire project. Where Husserl still seeks a foundation for meaning—however fragile—in intuition and constitution, Levinas abandons the search for ontological grounding altogether. Intelligibility, for Levinas, does not arise from being, structure, or givenness. It erupts as ethical interruption.

Levinas’s starting point is a judgment about violence. Ontology, he argues, inevitably totalizes. To understand is to subsume, to place within a horizon, to render intelligible in terms of what already is. Even phenomenology, for all its sensitivity to excess, ultimately domesticates alterity by placing it within structures of appearance. Against this, Levinas proposes a radical alternative: meaning does not originate in intelligibility at all, but in responsibility. The Other addresses me before I can understand, before I can thematize, before I can judge. Ethics is first philosophy.

There is real power in this move. Levinas names something that neither Kant nor Husserl can adequately explain: the experience of obligation that does not arise from autonomy or intuition, but from being claimed. Responsibility precedes choice. The self finds itself accused before it understands itself. In this respect, Levinas preserves what modern philosophy has steadily lost—the asymmetry between address and response.

Yet the way Levinas secures this asymmetry comes at a steep cost. In order to prevent ontology from totalizing, he evacuates it. Being becomes neutral, anonymous, or even oppressive. Intelligibility is no longer something the world bears; it is something that must be resisted. Meaning migrates entirely into the ethical relation, which now bears the full weight of normativity without ontological support.

From the standpoint of the axioms governing teleo-spaces, this move constitutes not a correction but a displacement. Normative weighting is affirmed, but it is no longer grounded in reality as such. It becomes an event without structure, an obligation without intelligibility. The Other commands, but the command does not arise within a teleo-space; it ruptures all spaces. Weight presses without order. Responsibility binds without articulation.

This displacement solves one problem only by creating another. By severing normativity from intelligibility, Levinas renders ethical demand ultimately unintelligible. One is obligated, but cannot say why—not even in principle. The refusal of ontology becomes the refusal of explanation. What begins as a protest against violence ends as a prohibition against sense.

Here the contrast with Luther and the Trinitarian account could not be sharper. Luther does not deny asymmetry; he insists upon it. But the asymmetry of Word and Spirit is not anti-ontological. It is extra nos without being unintelligible. The Word addresses, but it also means. The Spirit presses, but does so within an intelligible order. Obligation arises not from sheer alterity, but from promise.

In the language developed earlier, Levinas affirms weighting while denying teleo-spaces. He insists that obligation presses upon the self, but he refuses to say that reality itself is normatively ordered. Weight is real, but order is suspect. As a result, the collapse from determinability into determination becomes ethically urgent but ontologically groundless.

The Trinitarian grammar advanced here allows one to preserve what Levinas rightly sees without paying this price. Yes, normativity precedes choice. Yes, the self is addressed before it constitutes meaning. But no, this address need not be unintelligible. Normative pressure can be real because reality itself is ordered—because the Logos articulates teleo-spaces and the Spirit weights them without coercion.

Levinas thus marks the final stage in the modern trajectory traced here. Kant relocates intelligibility into synthesis. Husserl relocates it into intuition. Levinas abandons intelligibility in favor of ethical rupture. Each move is intelligible as a response to the failure of the previous one. None, however, restores the extra nos structure that Luther insists upon and that the Trinitarian account of teleo-spaces finally secures.

What is required is neither a return to pre-critical ontology nor an abandonment of normativity into pure ethics. What is required is an ontology capable of bearing obligation without violence—an intelligible order that presses without coercing. That is precisely what the Trinitarian differentiation of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit makes possible.

Transitus: Trinitarian Order, Intelligibility, and the Refusal of Subjectivism

What has emerged across these sections is not a new Trinitarian doctrine but a clarification of order—an ordering that has been repeatedly obscured whenever intelligibility is made dependent upon subjectivity. The pressure driving this clarification was simple: teleo-spaces do real work, yet they cannot be reduced either to formal structures or to acts of consciousness. If intelligibility is real, it must be grounded prior to the subject without being indifferent to the subject. The Trinitarian grammar articulated here makes that claim precise.

The axioms stated at the outset already carried an ontological interpretation. They were not syntactic placeholders awaiting semantic enrichment, nor regulative ideals awaiting phenomenological fulfillment. They named real distinctions in the way intelligibility is given, articulated, and ordered. The Father’s donation of differentiated possibility establishes that intelligibility is not a projection. The Son’s articulation of teleo-spaces establishes that intelligibility is not brute. The Spirit’s weighting establishes that intelligibility is not coercive, mechanical, or exhausted by formal determination.

This Trinitarian ordering allows us to say something that modern philosophy has found difficult to say without contradiction: weighting precedes subjectivity, but determination often involves it. The Spirit’s activity does not arise from human consciousness, nor does it wait upon it. Normative orientation, salience, and pressure toward articulation occur within the created order as such. Yet the collapse of the determinable into the determinate—especially in ethical, practical, and interpretive domains—often requires finite agents who bear responsibility for judgment. This is not a failure of ontology but its proper economy.

Seen in this light, the contrast with Kant, Husserl, and Levinas becomes instructive rather than merely critical. Kant rightly saw that intelligibility cannot be read directly off the world, but by locating its conditions in the subject, he rendered teleology regulative rather than real. Husserl sought to recover givenness without metaphysics, but by absolutizing intuition he relocated donation within transcendental subjectivity. Levinas, finally, refused totalization altogether, preserving ethical interruption at the cost of intelligibility itself. Each, in different ways, preserved an insight while mislocating its ground.

The Trinitarian account advanced here refuses that mislocation. Intelligibility is neither imposed by the subject nor shattered by alterity. It is given—given as articulated possibility ordered toward fulfillment without closure. The Spirit does not generate meaning, secure reference, or complete determination. The Spirit authorizes, orients, and presses—drawing finite agents into participation without absorbing intelligibility into consciousness.

The payoff is methodological as well as theological. Theology need not choose between realism and humility, ontology and ethics, structure and freedom. When teleo-spaces are grounded in the Logos and ordered by the Spirit, intelligibility can be affirmed without domination, and responsibility can be borne without constructivism. Theology speaks here neither as metaphysical system-builder nor as phenomenological witness, but as disciplined confession—attending carefully to the order in which God gives, articulates, and draws creation into truth.

What follows from this is not closure but orientation. The axioms remain axioms not because they are arbitrary, but because they name what must be the case if intelligibility, freedom, and truth are all to be preserved. Further formalization is possible, and further dogmatic elaboration will be required. But the path is now marked: intelligibility is Trinitarian in its ground, teleological in its articulation, and pneumatic in its ordering. This is all prior to subjectivity yet without bypassing it.


Monday, May 09, 2022

Luther and Heidegger: Modeling the Destruction of Metaphysics

The International Luther Congress beckons this summer and I am thinking about doing something on Luther and Heidegger in the seminar on Luther and Philosophy. I am old enough now to remember Luther Congresses 35 years ago and more where this topic was not of deep interest. Having written a dissertation on Luther's theological semantics, I was from my first Luther Congress interested in these matters, and remember being introduced to the Finnish work in this area in Oslo in 1988. 


The following is the abstract for my paper on Luther and Heidegger this Sumer.  The seminar headed by Jennifer Hockenbery asks participants to relate Luther to the philosophical tradition through consideration of the notion of freedom. 

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Much has been written about Heidegger’s indebtedness to Luther (along with Paul and Augustine) in the development of central themes of Being and Time e.g., death, fallenness, guilt, sin, freedom, etc. Heidegger breaks here with Husserl and western philosophy’s dream to frame a consistent and coherent theory adequate and applicable to all the facts, both physical and metaphysical. In the early 1920s Heidegger was interested in the phenomenology of Christian life, what it was to-be-unto-the-Parousia. He discerned in Luther a friend in uncovering the meaning of factical Christian existence, that primordial self-understanding from, and through which, any talk of theological “facts” can emerge.  


But the parallels between Luther’s critique of late medieval Scholasticism and Heidegger’s critique of Catholic theology in his time -- both are interested in the destructionof the abstract metaphysical in favor of the phenomenology of concrete lived existence – can occlude what profoundly differentiates the two approaches: Luther’s “Christian being” cannot be conceived apart from an encounter with the Other, an encounter that cannot be interpreted either as Zuhandensein or Vorhandensein. One must not confuse the experientia of Luther’s theologian with the experience of the peasant or particle physicist. The phenomenological ontological approach “laying bare” the being-in-the-world of both occludes the “stand on being” assumed in the approach itself, an approach that itself finally must stand before God


In this paper, I review the research into Luther and Heidegger with an eye toward towards an appropriation of the start differences between them, particularly with respect to the question of freedom. What is constructive here is my employment of model theory to show the truth-conditions of the sentences used in the analysis. Clarity on the semantics of sets of sentences about Luther’s experientia, Heidegger’s phenomenological ontology of Christian life, and the enterprise of their comparison provides greater precision and accuracy in evaluating the differences in their respective projects. 

_________


I have for some time thought that theologians should know the basics of model theory so that they might gain greater clarity into their own theological and ontological assertions. I will endeavor to provide a brief introduction to model theory in this summer's paper, and use it to clarify the difference between Luther and the early Heidegger's project of disclosing the primordial factic life of the Christian prior to the making and evaluation of abstract theological assertions.  

Sunday, March 20, 2022

Curb, Mirror and Light

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Lutheran theology has always been interested in the usus legis ("uses of the law"), and has argued passionately as to whether there are two usus legis or three.  

Luther oftentimes limits the law to two uses, its civil use in curbing sin, and its theological use in showing one's sinfulness and driving one to Christ.  In later Lutheran theology a third use was highlighted, a use consonant with some of what Luther sometimes said about the law.  In the second edition (1535) of his Loci, Melanchthon explicitly suggests a third use, one that functions as norming the contour of the believer's sanctified life.  

But while what I have thus far said sums up what many say about Luther and Melanchthon on the uses, neither theologian actually standardly employs the terminology of usus, preferring instead to use other phrases, e.g., Luther's use of officium legis in the 1537 Smalcald Articles connoting "office" or "function."  As a matter of fact, it was only in the wake of the Formula of Concord that usus legis became standard language in Lutheran theology.  Generations of theology students, both Reformed and Lutheran, have since learned the usus legis in this tripartite way: The one law functions in three ways: (1) to curb sin within civil society, (2) to mirror to us our sinfulness before God, and (3) to light our way in living out the sanctified life. 

Controversy about the putative "third use of the law" within Lutheran theology has centered on the issue of whether the law whose essence it is to accuse can remain law while yet being being properly employed as a guide. If the law as God's left hand always accuses, then how can it function in the grace of God's right hand to guide Christian living. One can freely adopt rules of thumb for Christian living consonant with Gospel proclamation, but these rules are not the law qua law.  

While the controversy between two or three uses of the law in Lutheran theology seemingly continues unabated, it is not my desire here to engage the historical issue further. I am rather interested in appropriating  the metaphors of curb, mirror and light spawned in the usus legis discussion for use in the context of establishing and justifying ethical standards and positions.  

II

Imagine a scenario in which Doctor Jack must make the decision as to whether to disconnect his patient Bob from life support.  Jack knows that Bob's recovery is unlikely, and realizes that as a rule of thumb, the hospital could likely not afford to keep patients like Bob on life support when the chances of recovery are so dismal.  Still Jack is reluctant to unhook Bob.  Why? 

When Fred later asked Jack why he did not unhook Bob, Jack grew pensive a moment and said the he was guided by the Hippocratic Oath and its admonition to do no harm to the patient. Since unhooking Bob seemed to Jack as an effecting of harm on Bob, Jack allowed Bob to remain connected.  He was surprised two days later to learn that, against all odds, Bob's condition had improved and he would likely survive. Dr. Jack was happy that he had not unhooked Bob, glad that he took the Hippocratic oath seriously, and relieved that Bob's condition did not simply worsen as anyone familiar with the relevant medical literature would have predicted.  Indeed, Jack felt like he had dodged a bullet, and the he himself was no less fortunate than Bob. 

III

The example illustrates the position that we often find ourselves within when reflecting about morality and ethics. In the concrete ethical situation we often find that we do start with some moral or ethical principles seemingly incumbent upon us even when we don't reflect upon them. These unthought principles do often strike us as something true to which we must conform. One might say that they strike us immediately as a curb upon are possible action.  

Jack unthinkingly affirmed keeping Bob hooked to life support, and only later in conversation with Fred tried to clarify why.  That which ought to be done simply confronted Jack, and Jack's actions were clearly curbed by that which stood over and against him.  While Doctor Jack is no philosopher, he experienced the principle of "do not harm the other" as something real, as something given to him and not constructed by him.  The principle not to harm came upon him in its otherness as law. Accordingly, one can imagine a code of such laws defining what is permissible, prohibited or obliged for a set of people in similar concrete ethical situations.  Moral and ethical codes do often successfully curb behavior. Social contexts in which they are present often appear better ordered and more efficient than when they are absent. 

But the immediacy of the encounter with this ethical other does not sustain itself over time. The curbing function of the code pushes in upon the self, exposing to the self that it has chosen the curb that curbs.  When this happens the curb becomes a mirror, a reflector of the self.    

In standing over and against the curb, the one curbed comes to know herself as part and parcel of establishing and sustaining the curb.  The curb for others becomes a mirror to the self; one recognizes one's own hand in the establishment of the curb and its perpetuation. After all, how could a curb be a curb if it is not permitted to be so? 

Clearly, one must afford recognition to the curb as Other in order for one to be curbed by it.  But in reflecting upon the putative alterity of the curb, one notices that the curb qua curb wears a human face.  Just as there are no self-identifying objects, properties, relations, events or states of affairs apart from human consciousness, neither are there self-identifying ethical norms governing our behavior without our cooperation and tacit agreement.  On closer reflection, the heternomony of the curb reveals itself as a posit of our own autonomy!  It is we after all who project curbs into nature. In staring at the face of this putative external curb, we come to recognize our face in the curb. Unfortunately, when we recognize the curb to be a projection of our own subjectivity, the power of the curb to curb is undercut. That which appeared to be objective has now become subjective, and with this we touch our own freedom. It is we who create the ethical world in which we live; it is we who are the rule makers.  The law in its externality has now become an expression of our own subjective desire, and the problem presses down upon us: How could that which we create come to judge the one who creates it?  

All of us implicitly realize that the efficiencies produced in codes that curb can last only as long as people grant the possibility that the curbing code is not merely an arbitrary and capricious projection of some arbitrary and capricious subject or subjects. 

IV

When the immediacy of the curb has been broken by the mediacy of the mirror, one is left with the question regnant in our time: How is it possible to use terms like 'good', 'evil', 'right', and 'wrong' without admitting that these appellations are deployed on the basis of my own desires, my own pleasure, and my own happiness?  How can saying 'John is bad' mean something more that I disapprove of John? 

It is here that the metaphor of light is necessary. Once one realizes that ethical properties are not baked into the universe in the same way that chemical interactions, one has a choice: Either admit that the subject devours any putative objectivity of ethics, or look for those deeper conditions that give rise to ethical predicates in the first place.  The metaphor of light points to the back-and-forth movement of reflection that is ultimately responsible both for the curbs and the mirroring that exposes such curbs as subjective.  The light of ethical reflection drives more deeply into the ultimate grounds for the law that binds.  It recognizes that the recognition of this law as driven by the subject is itself short-lived and ultimately irrational.  How indeed could it be that that ethical reality that seems so close to me, that reality that governs my behavior with respect to others, simply is a projection of me? 

After the heteronomy of the code is seen to rest in the autonomy of the subject, the subject realizes finally that there is no longer otherness, that the ought has been vanquished, and accordingly, that the deepest experience of human beings being confronted by what they ought to do -- and their not living up that ought -- is wholly counterfeit. What an irrational world the projecting self inhabits! The very experience of ought that seemingly separates human beings from the higher beasts is itself grounded upon nothing.  It tokens nothing deeper.  It is simply an unfortunate result of not taking mirroring seriously enough.  \While men and women can reason from what they want to how to get it, reason does not operate at all in establishing what they ought to want.

But here again the light shines forth. It is a light that takes up the immediate code and its negation into a higher synthesis.  It is a light that allows reason to operate not as a cipher of the self's desires, but as the logos speaking a divine order.  The light draws us more deeply into conversation.  It makes us ask how parts of the code fit together and for whom parts of the code are privileged. It asks us questions of moral theory and ethics. It distinguishes types of consequentialism and compares these types with deontological perspectives. The light seeks a comprehensive theory to stand behind the curb, a theory which points to the incapacity of the self to account ultimately for the experience of the curb. 

In the reflection of the light, we are drawn into the deeper questions of morality and ethics, questions that drive us to admit that we are not who we ought to be, and that we are not ultimately who we now are -- questions that cannot be entertained without entering deeply into the tragedy of our current situation of not being able to affirm deeply that Ground and Abyss that we cannot finally deny.  '

Human beings find themselves in fields of meaning, purpose and value that point to the Divine deeply hidden within the fissures of broken experience itself.  The light which lightens the curb and its mirror is a light whose reason is ultimately ontological, it pertains to the Being of the hidden God whose absence is present in a forgotten Cross on a lonely hill, a Cross in which time itself briefly nested.  And so it is that Curb and Mirror unite in that light that shows itself as Word.  The heteronomous and autonomous have both been cancelled yet preserved in a uneasy theonomy.  Ultimately, the Curb and Mirror must be understood from the standpoint of the Light, a light forever constituting itself as the divine in, under, around and beyond human life itself.

Saturday, November 13, 2021

Transcendental Self-Reference, Spirit and God

I remember distinctly my first reading of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason. I had learned about the semantic distinction between analytic and synthetic judgments, and the epistemological distinction between a priori and a posteriori judgments. Kant famously asked in the Critique about the legitimacy of synthetic a priori judgments, that is, judgments that are not dependent upon empirical experience in which, nevertheless, the meaning of the predicate is not included in the meaning of the subject. Traditional metaphysics consists in such synthetic a priori judgments, and for a host of reasons, Kant concludes that traditional metaphysics built on synthetic a priori judgments is wholly dubious. No amount of thinking things through conceptually can add to knowledge. For knowledge to occur, intuitions (that which is given through sensibility) are necessary. Kant does argue, however, that geometry and arithmetic has recourse to the pure forms of intuition, i.e., space and time, and that both are justified as synthetic a priori endeavors. 

Kant thus admitted that there are analytic a priori judgments, propositions that are analytically true, and he allowed for synthetic a posteriori judgments, empirical propositions known on the basis of experience alone.   He denied that analytic a priori judgments exist, and was thus left with the question of the synthetic a priori. The results of the Critique are that the traditional synthetic a priori judgments of metaphysics are  unwarranted, but that the synthetic a priori judgments appearing in geometry and arithmetic are permissible. 

I remember being troubled the first time I read The Crique of Pure Reason by the transcendental analysis he undertakes. He is writing a book, after all, that is making claims about the transcendental structure of things, a book seemingly claiming a transcends structure that might be known. Clearly, this knowledge is neither empirical knowledge constituted by synthetic a posteriori judgments, nor is this knowledge merely dealing with the  conceptual, that is, the results of analytic a priori judgments. So what is this knowledge? Prima facie, Kant believes these transcendental structures hold, that he (and we) are justified in holding they exist -- he speaks often of the warrant for his claims about the necessary conditions for the possibility of experience as such -- and that we should believe they obtain.  

Knowledge of the existence and structure of the transcendental unity of apperception must be a matter of synthetic a priori propositions, I thought, but this seems incorrect, because Kant had just proved that synthetic a priori judgments are legitimate only in the fields of arithmetic and geometry, and the structure of the transcendental unity of apperception is neither a matter of arithmetic or geometry. So what is it?  Clearly, it is not traditional metaphysics either. Kant spends much ink in showing that traditional metaphysics dealing with the transcendent is bankrupt because it employs synthetic a priori judgments beyond the realm of possible experience. It is clear that the transcendental structure Kant explores is  prior to the transcendent, for it is through his exploration of the transcendental that we are warranted in drawing the limits of the synthetic a priori

German philosophy after Kant clearly understood the great philosopher's critique of metaphysics, but also grasped the transcendental conditions for the possibility of this critique. Kant knew that there was no warrant to claim that the "I" was a substance as Descartes had supposed. But his transcendental investigation had indeed uncovered the presence of a transcendental unity of apperception, a unity of experience that was not an experience of unity as Descartes had thought. So what is the ontological nature of this transcendental unity that is not a unity within the transcendent? How can we know it? What language can speak about it? 

Questions of epistemology, ontology and semantics arise immediately with regard to putative transcendental structures. The German Idealists strove mightily to bring into focus the dynamism of the transcendental. Hegel's critique of Shelling was based not upon which philosophical system was more felicitous, but rather on which was true. It is clear to anybody reading Hegel that he is making truth claims, claims that are presupposed in his treatment of absolute knowledge. Obviously, these claims cannot be divorced from questions of being and meaning. 

The problem of knowing transcendental structures involves self-reference because it is an act within the transcendental unity of apperception to know that transcendental unity. The phenomenologists were also acutely aware of the problem of intending structures of consciousness that are utilized in intentionality itself. Although the 20th century positivist tradition attempted to leave behind these problems of self-reference by limiting knowledge to the positive sciences, their attempt to limit such knowledge to these sciences clearly was not something that could be known factually through these sciences. In divers and sundry ways, the intellectual tradition, since the days of Descartes, has had to do with paradox. We might say that the paradox of self-reference has been at the center of all the paradoci generated by the Enlightenment: After all, how is it possible to know X, when knowing X seems ultimately to rest upon what X is? Simply put, what is the epistemic and ontological status of the form of thinking, when that form seems to deal with the very matter of thinking.  

The German tradition understood that the Geisteswissenschaften differ from the Naturwissenschaften.  While in the latter, we can safely assume that the thinking form independently grasps (and structures) the matter of the thing thought, in the former the grasping is of that which itself grasps; it is a grasping through forms that it itself is! It is nature of spirit to relate itself to itself in these ways. When grasping what is the nature of human being, human be-ing is involved in the grasping. Martin Heidegger famously spoke of Dasein -- which includes human be-ing -- as that being, who in its be-ing, has be-ing at issue for it. There is no view from the outside when it comes to examining the basic structure of human be-ing, for asking the question belongs to the basic structure of human be-ing. Any asking of the ontological question is immanent to the ontology of the questioner.

So it is that we talk about the spirit that constitutes human be-ing. It is the nature of this spirit to question and seek to know about itself. To know who we are means to know the one who seeks to know who we are. To know ourselves is to know ourselves in the process of knowing ourselves, and knowing our knowing of ourselves. This knowing of ourselves as the knowers of ourselves constitutes the spirit that is us. Aristotle conceived God as thought thinking itself. Human beings are beings who are be-ing in their relationship to their own be-ing. It is the nature of spirit to be itself subjectively when relating to itself objectively. Spirit in-itself is being ultimately in-itself when spirit is being for-itself, that is, spirit is that relation between subject and object that can neither be described either as subject or object. Spirit in-itself takes up the subjective spirit in-itself and the objective spirit for-itself.  Hegel was clearly not wrong on any of this, if we have the perseverance and patience to think what he thought. 

So if the paradox of self-reference pushes towards human beings being spirit, trinunely constituted as beings forever what they are in relationship to what they are in-itself and for-itself, then why would we think God to  be otherwise?  It is the nature of the Triune God to relate Himself to what God is in Himself and how God expresses Himself as other than that self. We use the word "Spirit" to talk about the life of God, a life forever relating God to God. Divine knowledge involves the same dialectics of self-reference that confronts human beings. God is God in relating God to God. We are who we are in relation to ourselves. We know ourselves dynamically as we find ourselves in that which is other than ourselves.  God too finds His full divine life in relating to that which is other than God. 

There is much here about which to be careful in its saying because I do not want to fall victim to the historical heresies in thinking or speaking God.  However, it is clear that the life of both human beings and the divine is a spiritual life, and that these parallel lives have something to do with the problem of self-reference: Where can one find a position outside of the life of God or human beings from which to describe the life of God or human beings? Any attempt to find that position outside of the life from which to describe the life is an illusion, a fallacy of aseity. Such a fallacy ignores the paradox of self-reference. Gods and human beings have a similar spiritual structure. To grasp them as objects means not to so grasp them. Both are objects, whose being it is to be subjects forever related to themselves objectively. 

Given that human beings are spiritual beings, and the God they seek has spiritual divine life, how might it be that God and human being might relate to each other? Clearly, the answer is that the relationship is a spiritual one. While human beings in their be-ing can have their own be-ing at issue for them, they cannot in their own being have divine be-ing at issue for them. The life of God cannot be reflected in human spiritual life without human spiritual life being gifted with a new subjective standpoint, a subjectivity that is provided different capabilities, a subjectivity that can now grasp (however obliquely) the objectivity of God -- not a human projection or chimera -- a subjectivity that is a divine subjectivity gifted to human beings. Human access to God demands the elevation of standpoint that is best characterized as a human participation in the life of God.  

The deepest paradox of human life is that the standpoint we must employ in the grasping of our lives is always underdetermined by the life we grasp.  In this position, there could never be hope that human beings might relate to God. But as the theological tradition has always taught, it is God's Spirit that constitutes the conditions for human beings to relate to God. Clearly, as Luther said, "it is not by our own reason or strength that we might believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and come to him . . . "

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

The Scandal of the Theology of the Cross


I
The cross has been a scandal in every age.  It subverts our dreams and overturns our idealisms.  Human nobility and spirituality die upon this cross.[1]  It stands in opposition to the values of the world, the values summed up in the expression “theology of glory.”  Because, as Luther says, “Crux sola est nostra theologia” (“the cross alone is our theology”), it follows that the cross is opposed to all theologies of glory.[2]  But what is a theology of glory, and how must it be understood over and against a theology of the cross?
As soon as we reflect upon this, other questions naturally arise.  What is the best in man?   What is it that makes human beings noble?  What gives men and women dignity?  In answering this, we might start with the following catalog of human virtues, those characteristics seemingly separating us from the other primates.  Human beings:
·        have an eternal soul.
·        are bearers of reason.
·        possess free will and inhabit a moral order.
·        can actualize their potentiality.
·        have a taste for the Infinite.
·        can know the truth, do the good, and appreciate beauty.
·        understand justice and law as their highest good.
·        know God to be the foundation of truth, goodness and beauty. 
Theologies of glory understand that human and divine being stand on a continuum with human being either participating in divine being, or instantiating properties normally associated with the divine.  Theologies of glory can be stronger or weaker to the degree to which they instantiate divine being or divine attributes.  My favorite expression of a theology of glory comes from Ralph Waldo Emerson whose poem “Worship” has these memorable lines:
This is [He], who, deaf to prayers,
Floods with blessings unawares.
Draw, if thou canst, the mystic line,
Severing rightly his from thine,
Which is human, which divine.
The line between the two is difficult to draw because human beings are the embodiment of the highest aim of God, and God is the projection of the highest sentiments of humanity.  Thus, it is a challenge to know where the one leaves off and the other begins.  
Human beings are created in imago dei and, although this divine image is now tarnished by the waywardness of sin, it still shines forth weakly within human hearts.  Accordingly, human beings, through greater or lesser degrees of effort and divine succor, must work to polish up that which is now tarnished.     
An historically important theology of glory was bequeathed to us by a famous philosopher living over 400 years before Christ. The Greek philosopher Plato claimed that while the human soul bears the marks of the divine world from which it fell, e.g., indestructibility, simplicity and eternity, and while its essence is to be without a body, it has unfortunately been joined to matter in the veil of tears of this life.  At death, however, the sickness of the soul’s involvement with the body is healed as it sheds the corporeal forever and lives in eternity beyond the temporal.   Throughout the ancient world, the Greek idea of the immortal soul formed the intellectual backdrop on which Christ’s death and resurrection were understood. 
While time does not permit me to sketch out representative theologies of glory in the western tradition, one must at least point to a dominant early one: Neo-Platonism.  This philosophy held that all things are ultimately ONE and that this ONE in the course of history flows out of itself into Nous, then into the World-Soul, and finally into the alienated world of matter. Salvation demands that material men and women become more spiritual as they are freed from the corruption of the flesh and returned to the ONE from which they have been separated but to which they essentially belong.  Christian variations emphasized that God sends grace which is infused in believers so that they might become more spiritual and return to God.   
By the sixteenth century, Neo-Platonism had waned, but the impulse of the theologian of glory remained. The idea was that God gives human beings particular laws and that humans must act in accordance with those laws in order to be close to God.  To act in accordance is to be just; to not act in accordance is to be unjust.  In Luther’s time it was widely thought that as a person is just when he acts in accordance with divine law, so is God just when he rewards likes for likes.  God’s justice demands He punish sin and save the sinless. 
However, because humanity is not sinless, God had to give grace that either makes the believer sinless enough for God not to punish, or which “covers” sinners such that if somebody makes some small effort towards God, an effort within the power of the person (‘fac quod in se ipsum’), God does not deny His grace (‘facienti quod in se est Deus non denegat gratiam’).  God justly acts to reward the sinner who has worked merit congruent with his or her ability (meritum de congruoas if he or she had actually worked a merit worthy of salvation itself (meritum de condigno).  Because of Christ, the wretched faltering steps towards God the believer makes in this life are regarded by God to be as if they were worthy of salvation.    
It is not important that we follow all the specifics here. The theological tradition is rich in reflection on the nature of justification.  Suffice it to say that, for Lutherans, a person’s justification and salvation are coninstantiated.  Conceptually, it is impossible for one to be justified and not saved, or for one to be saved and not justified.  Accordingly, it is a necessary truth that ‘x is justified just in case x is saved’.  A theology of glory understands that proximity to God is a function of the worldly instantiation of properties that perfectly and properly apply to God.  
II
What then is a theology of the cross?  While a theology of glory understands the presence of God as a worldly manifestation of properties like those of God, a theology of the cross finds the divine presented sub specie contrario, that is, underneath its contrary.  Thus, a theology of the cross finds God where one least expects to find God: in weakness, in suffering, in death, in finitude.  Whereas the theologian of glory locates God in the divine apathei of detachment, peace and impassibility, the theologian of the cross finds God in despair, suffering, and emotional turmoil.  
In 1518, 35 year-old Martin Luther gave a presentation at the Augustinian monastery in Heidelberg in which he provided a classic distinction between a theologian of glory and a theologian of the cross.    
(19) Non ille digne theologus dicitur, qui invisibilia Dei per ea, quae facta sunt, intellecta conspicit.  (20) Sed qui visibilia et posteriori Dei per passiones et crucem conspecta intelligit.   [(19) That person is not worthy to be called a theologian who perceives the invisible things of God as understood through things that have occurred.  (20) But who understands the visible and “back side” of God through the perception of his passion and cross.]3 
The theologian of glory in thesis 19 is one who looks at how the world is in order to get a clue about how God is. Since God is like the world in that both are measured by goodness, the better the world is, the better or closer the divine source and goal of existence itself is. This theologian expects to find God where there is maximum goodness.  Luther says that this theologian of glory is not worthy to be called a theologian. 
Rather, the one worthy to be called a theologian is he or she who understands that what can be known of God is available only by looking at the cross.  The theologian of the cross finds God precisely where one would not expect Him to be found: in His ignoble suffering and death on the cross.    
The ancient notion of the anologia entis claims that there is an analogy between the being of God and the being of the world.  When the world is a particular way, then God must be a particular way.  But the one who searches for God in this way always misses Him, says Luther.  Instead of moving from how the world is to how God is, the theologian of the cross finds God in how the world is not.  She finds God in how Christ is!  God is not discerned by looking lovingly at the world, but by looking at the One who, by his crucifixion and death, looked lovingly at us.  God is found in Jesus Christ and only there, and this is precisely not where we would expect to find him. Luther says it clearly in thesis 21:
 (21) Theologus gloriae dicit malum bonum et bonum malum, Theologus crucis dicit id quod res est.  [The theologian of glory calls evil good and good evil; the theologian of the cross calls a thing what it is.]4   
While the theologian of glory sees through creation and finds God at the ground or source of it, the theologian of the cross finds God revealed in the desolation of the cross.  While the theologian of glory uses analogy in order to reason to what God is like, the theologian of the cross admits that God remains hidden in his worldly actions, and that He reveals Himself only when and where he wills it: on the cross and in the proclamation of that cross. The theologian of the cross proclaims God’s presence in the midst of His apparent absence.  
Instead of the soul being liberated by divine grace to fly closer to God, the theologian of the cross declares the death of the soul and the dissolution of the self.  While the theologian of glory assumes some continuity between the divine and human, the theologian of the cross exploits their discontinuity.  The old being dies and the new rises and takes its place.  It is not that the eternal essence of a man needs readjustment, it is rather that the old Adam in us is put to death and the New man in Christ is constituted in his stead.  There is no perdurance of individual substance across the domains of the old and new.  
III
So we have now sketched the salient difference between the theology of the cross and the theology of glory.  What is the problem?   Clearly, the cross is unpopular and does not fit well into the intellectual and cultural horizon of our time. Could we not say, in fact, that there is a “crisis of the cross” in our time?  Few any longer understand this distinction.  Theologians who should know better tacitly yet assume a profound relation between moral goodness and the divine.  It is as if one climbs up one’s own ladder high enough one can jump over to heaven itself!  Why is it that we find theologies of glory plausible?  Is it that we no longer understand the distinction between the theology of the cross and that of glory?
I don’t believe that the crisis is found in our not seeming to understand this crucial distinction. Lutherans from many different theological trajectories seem to grasp it. The problem, I shall argue, is that certain moves within Lutheran theology have made it difficult to state meaningfully the truth-conditions upon which the distinction between the theology of the cross and the theology of glory must ultimately be grounded.  How is it that this is possible? 
Theology is a discourse, and like other kinds of discourses, it is concerned with meaning and truth, the realm of semantics.  Classically, the semantics of theological propositions was assumed to be more or less realist. Terms like ‘God’ were thought to refer to a determinate being, while relational terms like ‘creates’ referred to a relational property of that divine determinate being by which that being brought that complex state of affairs referred to by ‘world’ into being.   Prima facie, to say that a person does not deserve to be called a theologian who “looks upon the invisible things of God as though they were perceptible in those things that have actually happened," is to deny the statement claiming that there is some divine being such that humans perceive something of the existence and properties of that being by perceiving some set of events within the universe.  
At this point it is necessary to make things very precise.  The theologian of the glory palpably holds that there is a divine being, and there is a universe that is not divine but created by that divine being, and there are sentient human beings such that these beings can perceive some set of events in the universe, and their perception of this class of events within the universe rationally justifies these human beings to hold that a particular set of properties is instantiated by that divine being.  I shall term this the epistemic formulation of the theology of glory because it refers both to events and the perception or the knowing of those events.   Let us make this even more perspicuous: 
(1)  There is some such that is divine, and some such that is the universe, and is not y, and there are some such that perceive events E in y, and z are rationally justified to hold that has property set S on the basis of z’s perception of E in y.   
Those holding to (1) are theologians of glory, while those denying (1) are not.  This much is clear.  Luther would hold that theologians of glory and theologians of the Cross constitute an exclusive disjunction.  Accordingly, not to be theologian of glory is to be a theologian of the cross, and vice versa.  This epistemological formulation concerns states of knowing and is a weaker formulation of the theology of glory than the following: 
(1’) There is a divine being and a universe distinct from that being, such that a particular class of events within the universe is manifest if and only if a particular cluster of properties is present within the divine being. 
This ontological formulation of the theology of glory can be clarified as follows:  
(2)  There is an x such that x is divine and a y such that y is the universe, and is not y, such that property set P obtains in y if and only if property set S obtains in x.  
It is this stronger ontological formulation of which I am most interested.  It is crucial now to notice that the theologian of the cross can deny (2) in either of two ways I will call (3) and (3’). 
(3)  It is not the case that there is an x such that x is divine and a y such that y is the universe, and is not y, such that property set P obtains in y if and only if property set S obtains in x.  

(3') There is an x such that x is divine and a y such that y is the universe and is not y, such that it is not the case that property set P obtains in y if and only if property set S obtains in x.  
Clearly, (3’) does not simply deny the entire ontological formulation, but rather a part of it.  Accordingly, one affirming (3’) would claim:
(4) There is a divine being and a universe distinct from that being, such that it is false that a particular class of events within the universe is manifest if and only if a particular cluster of properties is instantiated by that divine being. 
The theologian of the cross affirms the existence of God and a universe distinct from God, but nonetheless denies the analogy of being, that is, that the presence of a set of events in the universe is tied to the instantiation of divine properties.  Any covariance in property distributions across the temporal and eternal is denied.  A world of perfect moral order does not a better God make, nor does a perfect God make a better world.  The cross forever undercuts the natural human proclivity to identify God as the mathematical limit of the maximization of the Good, the True and the Beautiful. 
At this point a dizzying variety of senses of the epistemological and ontological formulations might be investigated as to their meaning in order to make possible precise senses undergirding Luther’s thesis 19.  However, this is not the issue about which I am concerned.  What I am concerned with is that my semantic formulation here presupposes a particular ontological contour, a contour that much of Lutheran theology no longer assumes. 
IV
Since the time of Kant academic theology on Lutheran soil has denied both the epistemological formulations and ontological formulations of theology of the cross.  Why is this?  I believe it is because it has assumed that God is not a substance that in principle can possess properties or be engaged in important kinds of relations – particularly the relation of causality.  But if God is not a being having properties, then what is God? 
Schleiermacher famously claimed that God is the whence of the feeling of absolute dependence.  Fichte talked of God as the infinite striving of the ego in positing the non-ego, and ultimately the world as the backdrop of moral striving.  Hegel understood God to be the Absolute Spirit coming to consciousness of Godself in time through human consciousness: God is God in Spirit coming to consciousness of itself through relating to what is seemingly other to it.  Ritschl and his school downplayed metaphysical assertions about God and spoke only of the effect of that which is other than the world.  Barth was strongly opposed to the liberal theology of Ritschl, Harnack and company, and spoke of God as the totaliter aliter, the “wholly other” of human experience.   God is thus “wholly other” than being, just as He is “wholly other” than non-being.  Other theologians have spoken of God in such ways as the infinite fore-grasp of the illimitability of Being in every act of thinking particular being (Rahner), or as a type of being of God such that God is not being God (Scharleman), or as a primal matrix (Reuther).  
The problem here is that even if one could clarify what it is that one is meaning by “God being God only when God is not being God” or God as Henry Nelson Wieman’s “primal event,” it is not clear why such diverse referents should be called by the same name, nor is it clear what exactly could be meant by Luther’s thesis 19 when the referent of ‘God’ changes so radically under different interpretations. 
The problem here is that theologians have not paid sufficient attention to the “depth grammar” of their statements.   ‘Jack fishes from a bank’ means quite different things when ‘bank’ means ‘an institution allowing the deposit of money’ on the one hand, and ‘that which abuts a creek’ on the other hand.   While the surface grammar of ‘God is in Christ reconciling the world to Himself’ can be held constant in various languages in which the locution is used, the depth grammar, the propositions actually expressed or the states of affairs actually named vary greatly across theological schools. 
What I am talking about is the need to specify clearly semantic models for theological statements.  Such models would include the domain of those entities about which we are speaking, and predicates which clearly delineate to which entities they properly apply. What theological model is specifiable either for the ontological interpretation of the theology of glory or its theology of the cross denial if God is not a substance – that is, a being that perdures through time – and God cannot be causally related to any entities within the universe? 
V
Imagine a Bultmannian view of things where there is no being having divine properties or attributes and no being that is the second person of the Trinity that actually has the properties of divinity and humanity.  Further imagine a Bultmannian view of things in which the proclamation of certain locutions is itself a performative use of language in which existential empowerment can occur in the listener.  On this view of things, the semantics of the statement ‘Christ is raised from the dead’ does not refer to a state of affairs in which there is a particular being such that this being had the property of death then afterward life.  The semantics instead has meaning on the basis of transformed existential horizons in its hearing.  
While Bultmann could speak of a theology of the Cross, and could even accept Luther’s thesis 19, he would not be meaning by that either the epistemic or ontological formulations given above.  He would be meaning by it something quite complicated pertaining to horizons of expectation and empowerment in a succession of historical beings having particular existential constitutions.  Perhaps we might rework (3’) into (3’’) as follows:
(3'’) Although there is no x such that x is divine and a y such that y is the universe and is not y, one can use locutions like ‘God’s power is found in weakness’ in order to effect a particular existential empowerment, or ground a use of proclamation language to effect existential empowerment, in some sentient hearer S, such that S is empowered in the face of fundamental anxieties to still discern some future open for S, that is that S’s facticity is not wholly determinative of S’s being. 
The attempt to specify the distinction between the theologian of glory and the theologian of the cross is not easy at all for the Bultmannian who has abandoned traditional semantic theological models. 
We have no time here to work any of this out, but the point should be clear enough. In the absence of a traditional, realist semantics of theological language, it is very difficult to state clearly the distinction between the theologian of the cross and the theologian of glory.  However, the last 200 years of academic theology has tended not to work with a realist semantics for theological language.  It has indeed tacitly rejected semantic realism, the assertion that theological statements have truth values even when we are in no position evidentially to ascertain their truth.  On the rejection of a semantics that talks about states of affairs and property instantiation, then how might one characterize what a theology of the cross is?  Is it merely an expression of existential orientations or psychological attitudes?  Does it not then merely reduce to human expressions of engineering our futures or allowing our future to bestow itself graciously upon us?
Much more needs to be said to establish this clearly, but maybe this can get the ball rolling.  My contention is that the distinction between the theology of the cross and the theology of glory cannot be sustained if a realist semantics is not presupposed.  However, for almost 200 years a realist semantics has not been presupposed.  Therefore, the distinction is no longer clear to us.  This is the scandal of the theology of the cross.  It is a formal, not a material scandal.  The necessary condition for the latter scandal is for the former scandal to be assuaged.  Since I believe in the theological importance of the material scandal, my hope is ultimately to undercut the ground on which the formal scandal appears to rest. 


[1] ‘Cross’ here means the entire narrative of the crucified and risen Jesus.   See Gerhard Forde, On Being a Theologian of the Cross (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Publishing, 1997), 1.  
[2] WA 5, 176:32 (Operationes).  
[3] WA 1, 350:17-20. 
[4] WA 1, 350: 21-22. 


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