Sin Essential and Contingent

I must admit that I have always thought Augustine fundamentally correct when saying, "My heart is not at rest until it finds its rest in thee, O Lord."  We denizens of the finite are not completed by the finite.  We search inescapably for "more-than-ness."  The problem is that while we search for this "something more than the finite," we look for it in the only place seemingly we can look: in the finite.  So we arrive at the dilemma of human being: An inhabitant of the finite looks for the infinite, but can only apprehend the finite.  Such a situation in which an infinite grasping connects to a finite object or meaning -- "connects" in being prima facie satisfied -- produces the phenomenon of sin.  And so Calvin could claim that the human mind is a factory of idols, for it is of the very being of our being, it seems, to "elevate the conditioned to the level of the unconditioned," to use Tillich's trenchant phrase.

Now all of this is pretty standard fare for the theologian, particularly the Lutheran theologian.  We know that the human mind is a factory of idols -- though we Lutherans don't often employ these words -- and that it is of the nature of human beings that we turn away from God in unbelief, pride, idolatry and concupiscence.  While we have an "ontological thirst" towards God, towards that Infinite which can only satisfy our thirsting after completion, we find ourselves a'whoring (using the traditional language) after false gods, after those seemings within the finite that seemingly satisfy.  In so doing we turn away from the horizon of the infinite, believing that a finite bird in the hand is worth the entire bevy of the infinite.  This is unbelief.  As we turn towards the finite, we realize that the turning is ours.  It is a matter now of our identification of that within the finite that can satisfy our ontological search.  This identification is pride.  That which is not infinite, but is now to satisfy the drive towards the infinite is an idol; it is something conditional now elevated to the level of the unconditional.  And the a'whoring is something done with an almost infinite zest, an excitement of the finite beyond what the finite can support.  Such an excitement is concupiscence, a desire to devour and dominate the infinite as one's own religious and erotic ecstasy.

I have always been fairly comfortable claiming that this is the basic condition of human being.  Although I have read many things about our getting over of transcendence -- Bonhoeffer probably first -- I never seriously thought human beings could or would do it.  The imprint was just too strong. "We are but a little lower than the angels," I thought, "and surely the complexity of our consciousness, of its hopes, aspirations, motivations, reasonings, rationalizations, fears, etc., witnesses deeply to this."  As the years have churned by, it seems, I have not really lost the sense of the striking difference between human self-consciousness and the consciousness of animals.  "There is something different," I tell myself, "and this something different is the divine imprint."  But lately I have been wondering if what I tell myself is accurate, or even of much significance.  Charles Taylor's A Secular Age lays out our western plight pretty well, and there is nothing in the macros of his diagnosis of the human problem that seems to me fundamentally inaccurate.

It seems like human beings in the old North Atlantic world just are quite different now.  Many I meet appear not at all to have an ontological thirst.  While I can always satisfy myself with the hope that they do retain this nonetheless -- even though they don't know it -- this interpretation is getting more difficult to sustain.  When people look with blank eyes when one attempts to uncover the hidden religious dimension of their secularity and/or atheism, the philosopher must take a step back and at least question his assumption.  What if these people don't have an ontological thirst at all?  What if they don't try to satisfy it in all of the wrong places?  What if their seeming drive for pleasure is not prideful concupiscence grounded in idolatry, but merely a drive for pleasure?  What if human beings aren't who we theologians have always assumed them to be?  What then? 

Charles Taylor attempts to show that the ambiguity of our present situation -- there still is some haunting of transcendence, after all -- can strike a significant counterpoise to exclusive humanism, that reveling in the immanent as if the question of transcendence could be jettisoned completely.  He tries to display how certain trajectories within the immanent are cross-pressured by the question of transcendence, though now of a post-modern and "excarnational" type.  So for him, at least, the ontological thirst is still somehow present, though perhaps not directly experienced as thirst.  It is as if one had a physical malady that disallowed the experience of thirst, so that one would identify one's states by certain of one's actions.  So the traditional strategy is not fundamentally different for Taylor.  One still has the condition, after all, even if one is not experiencing it.  So we are left with the question:  What if there is no ontological thirst at all?  What if the having of it was merely a stage in the history of consciousness, and not an element in the structure of consciousness?

I am enough of a philosopher to know that I can't really pull a rabbit out of the hat.  If there is no ontological thirst as an element in the structure of consciousness, then the transcendent fall into sin is problematic.  If this is the case, then the paradise story is not an exemplification of a timeless condition, a story that is true because it states in narrative form what deeply is: We temporal voyagers are existentially not somehow who we essentially are, and the gap between our existence and our essence is manifest as sin.  If there is no universal ontological thirst, even an unexperienced universal ontological thirst, then our sin and salvation, our capacity to thirst, to wander into idolatry, unbelief, pride and concupiscence, is a thoroughgoingly contingent, historical-conditioned state of affairs.  It does not have to be that way, and, indeed, it is becoming less so.  So what then?

At this time all that is left is preaching.  Preaching does not uncover the structures of consciousness so that they are accordingly recognized, but changes the contour of consciousness.  It creates.  Verbum dei manet in aeternum not because of the underlying structures it brings to expression, but because of the new realities it creates, realities of sin and salvation.  Accordingly, preaching the law really does create sin -- or at least what we denizens of the North Atlantic countries have traditionally identified as sin.  (There is much that needs to be said here, but I am not saying it now.)  That there are very sizable tensions here with traditional theological assertions goes without saying.  But theological tensions are nothing new.  Since the time of the Enlightenment, it has been extraordinarily difficult to provide a coherent theological account of God and world.  Tensions abound; it is a question for the theologian of what one can live with.  If one wants to take seriously the possibility that exclusive humanism may become the dominant ethos in our part of the world, and that this humanism is not delusionally occluding a more profound ontological structure, then we have to talk seriously about the contingency of that which we once thought essential.  That this places even more importance on the reality of the preached Word both in law and gospel is not something that Lutheran theologians will find surprising.

Metaphysics and Ontology V

The Question of Demonstrative Science

Like all medieval theologians, Luther was well-educated and very interested in logic.  He knew his Aristotle very well, lecturing on the great philosopher when in graduate school.  It is thus important that we know something about Aristotle's views on demonstration if we are to get clear on what Luther is doing in his more technical work where he thunders against "a logic of faith."

Aristotle argued in the Posterior Analytics that the deepest scientific knowledge of a thing required that thing to be grasped in terms of its necessitating causes.  Accordingly, the demonstrative syllogism produced the deepest knowledge (Eileen Sirene, "Demonstrative Science," in Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy, p. 497).  Through such a syllogism knowledge of the fact was established (demonstratio quia) as well as knowledge of why this fact must obtain (demonstratio propter quid).

Toward the end of the first quarter of the 13th century, Robert Grosseteste became the first in the Latin west to comment on Aristotle's entire Posterior Analytics.  While he agrees with Anselm and others that the truth of a thing is its conformity with the rationes in the divine mind, he holds that the truth of a proposition is found in the conformity between what the proposition asserts and what is the case (Sirene, p. 502).  Grosseteste's commitment to a theory of divine illumination affects his interpretation of the Posterior Analytics.  While Aristotle indicated that experience and induction lead to an intuitive grasp of first premises in demonstrative proofs, Grosseteste grounds first premises in a "direct or indirect irradiation of his mind by divine light" (p.503).  Without such illumination no certainty is possible.

Aquinas downplays illumination as a necessary epistemic feature of this life, claiming with Aristotle that we can grant first principles and definitions through experience.  As it turns out, Aquinas assigns to the role of demonstrative science a small subset of the set of all truths, for most of what we claim to know is opinion, not scientia.  The latter demands both demonstratio quia and demonstratio propter quid, something lacking in the former.

Scotus relaxes the Aristotelian requirement that knowledge of something demands that one know why it necessarily happens.  Because of his commitment to the potentia dei absoluta, Scotus denies that knowing x presupposes that we know why x must be what it is.   The fact that it is an x is completely consistent with the possibility God could have willed ~x.  Scotus thus changes the nature of demonstrative science from the project of discerning what is necessary in nature to finding instead what is possible or compossible within it.  This has repercussions for his theory.  While demonstrative science could establish the connections among general truths, it is incapable of explaining why this particular was instantiated at this particular time.  This cannot be proved because God could always have changed his mind and not brought that particular into being. Here as elsewhere, voluntarism seems to push towards nominalism and the contingency of the individual.  

The great architect of the via moderna, William Ockham follows Aristotle in claiming that better known premises provide warrant to affirm the truth of those propositions entailed by them.  But, he realizes that "the resulting sciences are collections of true propositions, and not necessarily a mirror of the inner constitution of nature" (p. 513).  They can be only contingent propositions because God is the only necessary being.  Ockham does say that knowledge acquired by demonstration is not different in kind from knowledge by experience (p. 514), but understands this to mean that demonstrative knowledge needs to presuppose experience, not the other way around.  Jean Buridan follows Ockham on the difficulties of establishing an Aristotelian demonstrative science of nature, holding instead that such reasonings must allow for linking propositions which are almost always true with others of the same kind (p. 517).

Metaphysics and Ontology IV

E. What is the Role of the Senses in Acquiring Knowledge?

We have been surveying some of the metaphysical issues of the fourteenth century, issues that were still of concern when Luther was studying for his M.A. at Erfurt. We have discussed the question as to the proper subject matter of metaphysics, the relationship between the essence and existence of a thing, the issue of actuality and potency in incorporeal beings, and the question of the ontological status of universals with concomitant inquiry into the nature of individuation and identity.  Another important issue for 14th century theologians concerned itself with the metaphysics of knowing and the reliability of sense perception in acquiring knowledge.  Since the development of Christianity presupposed an Augustinian standpoint in which philosophy is in conformity with the revealed tenants of the christian faith, the task was to retain the harmony of faith and reason while still allowing empirical  access of, and affording general ontological status to, the external, non-divine world.

It is important to recall that Augustine and much of the Christian tradition presupposed the doctrine of divine illumination, holding that the mind confronts not its own concepts or ideas, but ideae, rationes, forms or species.  These were trans-subjective entities, not "subjective mental features" (Owens, "Faith, Ideas, Illumination and Experience," in The Cambridge History of Latter Medieval Philosophy, p. 442).  As Aristotle was rediscovered in the West, however, it became more important to give an account of the possibility and limits of knowledge gained through sensation, an account that sometimes produced considerable tension with the older illumination theory.  The problem was how to proceed in producing such an account, when knowledge was thought to be an incorporeal affair.  In other words,  how could the realm of the corporeal cause the suitable movements in the incorporeal assumed necessary for knowledge?  Whereas the Neoplatonic illumination starting point privileged the ontological status of ideas over material objects, (and in so doing assumed that secondary substance had more reality than primary substance), the Aristotelian focus on the ontology of primary substances seemingly reversed the situation entirely, affording no real existence to ideas -- and demoting secondary substance to a matter of the conceptual.

In the early part of the thirteenth century William of Auxerre tried to reconcile the older view of the divine illumination of religious faith with Aristotle's notion that we can attain knowledge through the senses.  He did this through developing Aristotle's assertion in De Anima that "the soul is in a way all things" (p.445).  William reasoned that although the thing known is potentially in the knower, the material intellect nonetheless had to receive its species from corporeal objects (p. 446).  The material intellect must receive the form abstracted from sensible things, forms called by his time species.   Owens writes: "the existence of things in the Augustinian intelligible world was being aligned with their potential existence in the soul's material intellect, and in each case 'existence' was regarded as metaphorical" (446).

William, however, rejected the Aristotelian notion of the active intellect, believing instead that the material intellect could itself know singulars and universals, and make true judgments about them.  (His view might be regarded as a precursor to the positions assumed by Hobbes, Locke and the other empiricists, for the object itself somehow impresses its species upon the thinker thereby forming an idea.)   Albert the Great, however, writing in 1245 advocates that an agent intellect is clearly needed in order to get the species into the material intellect.  He writes, "".  .  . unumquodque phantasma set particular determinatum: et ideo neccese est ponere agem universale in intellectu" (Summa de creatione II, 55, 1, ad 2m; Owens, p. 448).   The light of the active intellect, supplemented by the light of the uncreated intelligible light, abstracted the species from the sense particular and "lit" up the material intellect by so doing.   In combining the Aristotelian idea of abstracting the species and  forming the potential intellect with the notion of light, Albert attempted to retain Augustinian-inspired illumination theory even while moving towards an Aristotelian position on knowing the objects of the senses.   Roger Bacon, however, rejects what he sees as Albert's concession to Aristotle, holding instead that the operation of the potential and active intellect can be wholly understandable from the standpoint of Augustinian illumination theory.

As is well-known, Thomas Aquinas wholly rejected illumination theory, holding knowledge depended upon an identity in difference between the human knower and the object known.  He writes:  "Secundum autem quod intelligit res alias, intellectum in actu fit unum cum intellectu in actu, inquantum forma intellecti fit forma intellectus, inquantum est intellectus in actu, non quod sit ipsamet essential intellectus . . . quia essentia intellectus manet uno sub daubus formis secundum quod intelligit res duas successive" (Aquinas, Sent., 49, 2, 1, ad 10m; Owens, p. 452).  While Aquinas spoke of universals existing in the thing, this way of speaking was derived from the actual existence of universals only in the mind (453).

Three more thinkers deserve comment, Henry of Ghent, Duns Scotus and William Ockham.  While we mentioned all three before, we did not connect any of the three to the question of illumination and the intellect.   As we discussed earlier, Henry spoke of the intentional object having a type of existence (esse essentia) that could be distinguished from the actual existence of the thing (esse actualis existentiae).  Henry thereby explicitly connects the possession of true sense knowledge with the doctrine of divine illumination (Owens, 454).  Scotus rejected illumination theory, claiming that the divide between particulars that really exist and universals that are mere abstractions from particulars is too sharp, and accordingly there must be some common nature by virtue of which Socrates and Plato are common to men and not Socrates and a tugboat.  Some type of unity and commonness must exist outside the mind, grounding the human mind's abstraction of a common nature among objects.  This nature was thought to be formally distinct from the haeccity (or individuating nature) of a thing.  Scotus held that this nature could be known either intuitively as existing or abstractly without regard to existence.  In a tipping of the hat towards illumination, Scotus admitted that considered abstractly an object's common nature could be seen to lie before the gaze of the mind illuminated by the divine.  William of Ockham rejected the notion of illumination entirely, however, claiming that special divine intervention could cause intuitive cognition in a subject even in the absence of an object.  Accordingly, it was not the character of the object that distinguished abstract and intuitive knowledge, but the nature of the acts themselves (p. 457).

Since there was rich discussion of intuitive and abstractive cognition in the fourteenth century, it might be useful to reflect more deeply on the distinction between intuitive and abstractive cognition.   Scotus held that the fundamental distinction between abstractive and intuitive cognition is modal: the latter deals with what is possible or necessary, while the former deals with what is actual (John Boler, "Intuitive and Abstractive Cognition," in The Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy, p. 465).  Ockham understands intuitive cognition to concern the apprehension by which contingent propositions are cognized, and abstractive cognition simply as a cognition that is not intuitive.  For Ockham, intuitive cognition is "caused by this one rather than that one" (Bohler, p. 468).  Yet, pace Scotus, the object need not exist for Ockham to have an intuitive knowledge of it.  The distinction between the two can be understood this way: Scotus believes that the proper place for an act of knowledge to begin is in the object, Ockham holds that it properly commences in an act of unconditional beginning.  God causing an intuitive act of cognition in the absence of an object nonetheless forms an unconditional beginning to the act. Indeed, God can cause apparent intuitive knowledge of all kinds of non-existents through His potentia dei absoluta, the absolute power of God whereby he can do anything that does not involve a contradiction.  Interestingly enough, however, appeal to potentia dei absoluta did not seem to spur development of skeptical thinking in the 14th century as did Descartes' analogous appeal to the "evil demon" two centuries later.

It is intriguing to contrast Ockham, Scotus and Thomas on knowledge of singulars.   For Ockham, knowledge occurs through the application of the concept to the individual; for Scotus, through the apprehension of unity of the individual represented by a set of characteristics; for Thomas, by means of the "construction" of the object by the intellect through the organization of sensory data (Boler, p. 476).  The intellect, according to Thomas, provides the form by which the sensory manifold is constructed.  While Aquinas' view might have some similarities with Kant, the trajectory of Scotus and Okham is definitely toward the ontology of the individual assumed at the dawn of the Enlightenment.

Metaphysics and Ontology III

C.  The Question of Potency and Actuality in Incorporeal Creatures and the Possibility of Universal Hylomorphism 

While those defending a real distinction between esse and essentia regarded the latter as in potency to actualization by the former, those rejecting it simply conceived potency as all of that which God could have brought about, even though He had perhaps not done so.  Accordingly, those in the first camp could speak of a "subjective potency" (potentia subjectiva) of the essentia toward existence, while those in the second claimed there was only an "objective potency" (potentia objective) of the nonexistent esse/essentia complex toward existence (Wippel, p. 407).  While subjective potency presupposes there is a subject which could either have existence or not, objective potency simply asserts that while a substance with its qualities in fact does not exist, it nonetheless could.  Thinking of existence E as a predicate, the first claims that there is an x such that Ex, while the second that there is not an x such that Ex.

Universal hylomorphism approached the question by claiming that the form/matter distinction applies to all of created reality, even the realm of the incorporeal.  Advocates included Roger Bacon, Bonaventure and Gonsalvus of Spain.  Critics were legion, including William of Auvergne, Albert the Great, Thomas Aquinas, and Godrey of Fountains.  Those of the first camp generally regarded Avicebron or Augstine as adumbrating their own views, while thinkers of the second group appealed to Aristotle in substantiating their position.  Thinkers divided on the notion of prime matter, with advocates of universal hylomorphism tending to opt for a realm of pure potentiality, e.g., Albert, Thomas, Siger and Giles.  The Franciscans, on the other hand, seemingly advocated that any definite matter whatsoever had some degree of actualization, because actualization is necessary for matter to be definite and particular. Representatives included Richard of Middleton, Scotus, Henry of Ghent and William of Ockham.

D.  The Question of Universals 

 Plato had famously held that universals such as 'man' and 'whiteness' exist part from their instantiation in existent objects.  Those committed to such a view in the Middle Ages are generally termed "realists," asserting that universals are real regardless of their worldly exemplification and  their relationship to the thinker.  Moderate realists, on the other hand, claimed to be following Aristotle in holding that natures really do exist in individual things of which they are their natures.  If a bovine nature exists in Gertrude, Bessy and Bossie -- a general nature by virtue of which each of the three is a cow -- what is it that ultimately individuates Gertrude from Bessie and Bossie?   Is it the accidents of Gertrude that make her not Bessy?  But this seems wrong on Aristotelian grounds because the primary substances which Gertrude and Bessy are must individuate apart from any accidents.  But what could be a metaphysical constituent of a substance that individuates particular cows?  If not an accident, then perhaps it could be an individual nature.  Yet if such a nature exists, what is its relationship to the general nature by which each of the three individuals are cattle?  These issues dominated metaphysical discussion in the fourteenth century.

Duns Scotus famously argued the general nature common to each individual, must someone exist in each individual without a possibility of existing apart from some individual or other.  If Jack is going to be more similar to Jill than a tugboat, then there must be something common to Jack and Jill that is not found in Jack and the tugboat.  This common nature, which exists apart from human awareness, perception, conception and language, is nonetheless not numerically one.  Marilyn McCord Adams writes that for Scotus, "human nature is numerically one in Socrates and numerically many in numerically many distinct particulars, or thisnesses, that are numerically one and particular of themselves and that contract the nature, which is common of itself, rendering the nature numerically one and particular as well" (Adams, "Universals in the Fourteenth Century," Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy, p. 413).  Just as Socrates is particularly white by virtue of the inherence of whiteness in him, so is he particularly Socrates by virtue of the particular contraction of the general nature in him.  Accordingly, human nature cannot be universal in re because it is not numerically one and particular in itself.  For Scotus, it is simply axiomatic that nothing predicable of many can be numerically one and particular.  But while the universal cannot exist in re because it is neither numerically one and particular, Scotus admits that it can exist in mente as an object of thought.

Scotus' position is that the nature which is one from the standpoint of what it denominates, is nonetheless many in numerically distinct particulars.  So what is the relationship of this one and many?  Here Soctus introduces his notion of a formal distinction: "The nature and contracting difference are formally distinct, or not formally the same" (Adams, p. 414).  While Scotus offers different metaphysical accounts of how this is possible, he seems to settle on discriminating between a distinctio simpliciter and a distinctio secundum quid.  While every man is an animal, and man is not metaphysically distinct from animal, they are formally distinct in that animal has "more perfection" than man because it can be predicated of more things (Adams, p. 416).  

William of Ockham took a very dim view of Scotus' metaphysical machinations stating, in fact, that Scotus' position is internally incoherent.  He has a number of arguments that I won't rehearse here.  Maybe the best of his arguments is the following:

• Scotus holds that the principle of individuation (e.g., what makes Socrates Socrates) or contracting difference is numerically one and particular, and thus cannot be common to numerically distinct particulars.  (Assumption 1)
• He also assumes that the nature and contracting difference are formally distinct, that is, not formally the same.  (Assumption 2)
• According to Ockham, however, on assumption 1 it is not metaphysically (or logically) possible for the humanity of Socrates to exist without Socrateity.  This is the case, even though it is logically possible for Socrates to exist without a particular whiteness existing in him.  
• More generally, no contracting principle that operates on a general nature to particularize it is contingently instantializable; e.g., the humanity in Socrates can only be Socrates' humanity and the humanity in Plato can only be Plato's humanity. Therefore, it is not possible that one and the same nature can exist in many things.  (Contradicting Assumption 2)

There are a number of other positions in the fourteenth century that deserve at least some mention.  Walter Burley attempts a moderate realism claiming that "the whole universal (secundum se totum) exists in each of its particulars and is not numerically multiplied by its existence in numerically distinct particulars" (Adams, p. 423).  Henry of Harclay, along with Ockham, attacked Burley's views, the former holding that "everything that exists in reality is essentially singular -- i.e., logically incapable of existing or, as a constituent of, numerically many simultaneously" (429).   Henry believes that individual substances act on the intellect in two ways, either confusedly or distinctly: "The universal is a thing confusedly conceived, and a particular is the same thing distinctly conceived" (430).   A universal and particular are thus the same thing, although they are distinct in reason.  (One might say, they could be described differently.)  Throughout the 14th century nominalism gained strength, even if it was not always able to show that its realist opponents were committed to explicit contradiction.  At some point, the attempt to save realist vocabulary seemed to many disputants simply obscurantist with regard to the underlying metaphysical facts.

Metaphysics and Ontology II

B.  The Question of the Distinction between the Essence and the Existence of a Thing

It is important to realize that medieval philosophers assumed a very large ontological domain.  They needed not only to account for the metaphysical constitution of the material objects encountered in the world, but also incorporeal beings like God, angels and human souls. While God's metaphysical simplicity and His necessary, uncaused character presented a unique challenge to general metaphysical principles, created entities such as angels seemed to cry out for a metaphysical framework of the created order wide enough to include their constitution. The medieval question of the relationship between essentia (essence) and esse (existence) in created beings arose because of the need to cast a metaphysical account broad enough to include both corporeal and incorporeal created beings.

Boethius first suggested that entities had two aspects: essence and existence.  In Axiom II of his De Hebdomadibus, he writes, Diversum est esse et id quod est . . .   In Axiom VIII he opines, Omni composito ilid est esse, aliud ipsum est (Wippel, 392, fn. 38).  These comments seemingly conform with Avicenna's view that existence and existence are robustly distinct. Averroes and followers demurred, arguing that if an object has real being only by virtue of that which is superadded to essence, then why not claim there is something else superadded to existence making it even more real (393)?  Boethius' comments and the differing interpretative traditions of Avicenna and Averroes set the stage for this metaphysical controversy.

Aquinas advocated the real metaphysical constitution of essence and existence, suggesting in his youthful De ente et essentia that essence or quiddity is the potency of any created being which can be actualized into existence by God.  While the first is necessary for understanding of the thing, the second is not, coming, as it were, from outside the thing's quiddity and uniting with its essence in composing the real thing.  In the Summa contra Gentiles Thomas writes, . . . et sic in quodlibet creato aliud est nature rei quae participat esse, et aliud ipsum esse participatum (SCG I, q. 13).  The participating nature is in potential to the actuality of the participated nature. As Wippel points out, over and against Avicenna, for Aquinas, since "existence has no quidditative content in addition to that of the essence which it actualizes," . . . "neither essence nor existence can exist independently of each other"(395).  Thomas writes: Unde patet quod hoc quod dico esse est actualitas omnium actuum, et propter hoc est perfection omnium perfection (q. 7, a. 2, ad 9).  To say that existence (esse) "is the actuality of all acts and the perfection of all perfections" is to claim that ens (a being) participates in esse (to-beness).  Essentia both receives and limits esse and thereby produces ens. Real composition is necessary in a being in order to account for the quidditive limitation of that being.

While Aquinas held to the real distinction of esse and essentia, he did not employ the infelicitous language of Giles of Rome who asserted in his Theoremata de esse et essentia that esse et essentia sent duae res (th. 19, p. 127), and that since res ergo ipsa quod est esse est in genere substantiae, it is per consequens intelligitur quod esse sit alia res ab essentia (Giles, q. 9 & q. 11, in Wippel, p. 392).  Giles clearly is trying to account for all of created being in analogy with the form/matter distinction for material entities: Dicemus ergo sicut generatio facit scire materiam aliud esse a forma, sic creatio facit nos scire essentiam esse aliud ab esse (th. 5, q. 9).  Giles' use of res in characterizing both esse and essentia suggests a very robust, real esse/essentia distinction, and it was his formulation of real distinction that was severely criticized by Siger of Brabant, Godfrey of Fontaines and William of Ockham.

Siger admitted that ens was composite, but instead of construing this composition along the form/matter analogy, he suggested that the analogy between substance and accident is better.  Godfrey claimed the distinction was only secundum rationem (according to reason) and not due to the metaphysical composition of the thing.  Godfrey, in fact, argued for a real identity between esse and essentia, for whatever can be said truly of the first can be said truly of the second and vice versa (Wippel, p. 401).  Essentia has only potential being prior to God's bringing it to be.  Since the significatio of essentia and esse are the same, the two must be identical.  Ockham mounted ingenious philosophical arguments against the real distinction of esse and essentia, claiming that if former were really distinct from the latter, then it would have to be either a substance or accident.  But it is neither an accident because esse is not a quality or quantity, nor a substance because esse is neither a matter, form, their composite, or a separate entity (Wippel, p. 402).  His modal argument precedes thusly:  If a and b are distinct then it is possible for a to obtain without b, or for b to obtain without a.  But it is not possible for God to create essentia without esse or esse without essentia, therefore esse and essentia are not distinct.

Henry of Ghent, James of Viterbo and Duns Scotus sought to establish a position between a real ontological distinction between esse and essentia, and their ontological identity which possesses only a distinction according to reason (secundum rationem).  Henry of Ghent's views, though not widely affirmed in the subsequent tradition, are nevertheless quite interesting.  Anticipating Meinong, he affords a type of being to essences (esse essentiae) that is not existential.  Because God exists and has knowledge of all possible and existing entities, essential being has a type of existence prior to actual existential instantiation.  The divine will thus communicates actual existence (esse existentiae) to a subclass of esse essentiae entities.  Henry ingeniously opts for a new type of distinction, one of intention, in sorting esse and essentia.  While the existence of a thing does not add to its essentia, the external relation of actually being efficiently caused by God in creation marks a third path between a real distinction and real identity.  Esse essentiae is sorted from esse existentiae) by the fact that God has actually created the second.

James of Viterbo apparently tried to distinguish between essentia and esse semantically, according to primary and secondary significance.  While the modus significandi (mode of signification) of an abstract term signifies only the thing's essence, that of a concrete term, while signifying essentia primarily, signifies secondarily the thing having esse.  So existentia signifies essentia primarily and secondarily it signifies that which is conjoined with essentia in an existing subject (Wippel, p. 405).  Finally, and most famously, Duns Scotus searched for an intermediate position by admitting that while esse and essentia are not separable in contingent fact, they are not identical in all possible worlds.  Although oftentimes referred to as the "formal distinction," Scotus scholars have differed on what precisely is meant.  Scotus also opines that while abstract cognition has essentia as its proper object, intuitive cognition has existentia.  Whether either this epistemic point or the modal point legitimately establishes a formal metaphysical distinction between things never found apart is, of course, open to further debate.

Metaphysics and Ontology I

Addressing the issue of “Luther and ontology” requires clarity first on what ‘ontology’ is.  Within Luther scholarship, unfortunately, there has sometimes been confusion on this basic issue.  Thus it is that I will first get clear on the nature of ontology and how it relates to metaphysics.  Only then will I review some of the secondary literature on Luther and ontology, pointing to areas within Luther’s theology where the question of ontology is deeply important for his theology.  Finally, I will suggest areas of continuing research.  For both Luther’s theological predecessors and Luther himself, ontology and semantics are closely related.  Interpreters of Luther sometimes have forgotten this, ignoring ontological aspects of his own thinking, and thus projecting their own ontological assumptions upon the theology of the great Reformer.  

1.1 The Meaning of Ontology and its Relationship to Metaphysics

Many mistakenly believe that the terms 'metaphysics' and 'ontology' are coextensive, referring to the same set of philosophical issues. This is not so.  Both terms have a long and rich history that must be untangled in order to grasp the nature of their connection.  As it turns out, while the term 'ontology' ('ontologia', 'ontology', etc.) generally applies to a sub-region within metaphysics that specifically concerns general questions of being, the discipline of metaphysics is much wider, investigating the general (or universal) features (or principles) of reality presupposed by concrete experience as such.   

Historically, the term 'metaphysics' derives from the collection of 14 books by Aristotle appearing in his corpus after the Physics.[1] Andronicus of Rhodes probably titled these books "Ta meta ta phusika," perhaps thereby warning students that these texts should only be undertaken after mastering the books of the Physics, all dealing with the principle of change.  Metaphysics, on the other hand, connotes the study of those things that do not change. It is the discipline dealing with first causes, with God and the Unmoved Mover.  

Inwagen and Sullivan provide the following list of "metaphysics" according to Aristotle's conception.[2]

• Being as such
• The first cause of thing
• That which does not change

Aristotle, however, also famously believed that metaphysics is concerned with being qua being.  Accordingly, it is not just a study of first causes and unchangeable things, but examines objects "from a particular perspective, from the perspective of their being beings or things that exist.  So metaphysics considers things as beings or existents and attempts to specify the properties or features they exhibit just insofar as they are beings or existents."[3]    Considered in this way, metaphysics is a universal discipline, studying notions such as identity, difference, similarity, dissimilarity, and the categories that grant the possibilities of for being to be.   

Inwagen points out that what we mean by "metaphysics" greatly expanded in the seventeenth century, thereby confusing matters even more.  While older metaphysics dealt with traditional questions of being as such, categories of being, universals and substance, metaphysics since the 17th century became increasingly concerned with questions of modality, space and time, persistence and constitution, causation, freedom and determinism, and the mental and the physical.            

Bruce Aune clarifies the relationship between general and special metaphysics that developed with the expansion of metaphysical questions in the seventeenth century. 

General metaphysics includes ontology and most of what has been called universal science; it is concerned, on the whole, with the general nature of reality: with problems about abstract and concrete being, the nature of particulars, the distinction between appearance and reality, and the universal principles holding true of what has fundamental being. Special metaphysics is concerned with certain problems about particular kinds or aspects of being. These special problems are associated with the distinction between the mental and the physical, the possibility of human freedom, the nature of personal identity, the possibility of survival after death, and the existence of God.[4]

Oftentimes scholars claiing that Luther is unconcerned with metaphysics or ontology are conceiving metaphysics in the later seventeenth century sense of the term, and not according to the concept present in Luther’s own time.

The word ontologie actually develops much later than “metaphysics,” occurring first in the German language only in the work of Rudolf Goeckel (1547-1628) and Jacob Lorhard (1561-1609), and is later defined more fully by Johann Georg Walch (1693-1775) in his Philosophische Lexicon as follows: 

Ontology concerns the doctrine of being, and is understood as a name of a new philosophy of science that treats being in general and its properties (l.c., s.v. Ontologie 1. A. 1726, 2. A. 1733, ND dieser Thoemmes 2001).

Ontology is thereby the study of being insofar as it is possessed by any kind of entity. Christian Wolff (1679-1754) famously distinguishes ontology as metaphysica generalis (inquiry into the general categories of being) from the metaphysica specialis dealing with God (natural theology), the soul (natural psychology), and the world (natural cosmology).[5]  

So in what did the subject of metaphysics consist in the High and Late Middle Ages?  The following is my own (rather incomplete) list of traditional metaphysical questions of the period: 

•           In what does metaphysics consist?  Does the question of God fall under metaphysics broadly conceived, or is it a question of a "divine discipline" (scientia) falling outside of metaphysics proper? 
•           What is the relationship between the essence and existence of a thing, and what is the ontological status of the distinction putatively separating them? 
•           How can the distinction between actuality and potentiality be conceived in spiritual matters where the distinction between form and matter fails to obtain?  
•          Do universals exist and, if so, what is their ontological status?  
•          How is individuation possible without matter, and how should identity, distinction and similarity be conceived? 
•          What is the role of the senses in acquiring knowledge, and can this role be squared with the notion of illumination stretching back to Augustine?  
•      Can knowledge of God be "demonstrated," and what precisely is the nature of such a demonstration.   

John Wippel points to the two traditions developing after the rediscovery of Aristotle's Metaphysics.  In Book IV Aristotle talks of a discipline concerned with being as being and not with questions about particular attributes of being characteristic in the various other disciplines.[6] In Book VI, however, Aristotle mentions a "divine science" concerned with immovable and separate entities. Presumably, it is precisely because there is a domain of separate, immobile entities that physics cannot be considered the first science.[7]  Reconciling these two conceptions of metaphysics -- first science dealing with being qua being and first science dealing with separate and immobile entities -- spurred lively philosophical discussion in the Middle Ages as to precisely what metaphysics is. 

Wippel points out that Duns Scotus in his Questions super libros Metaphysicorum asks the question as to the proper subject matter of metaphysics by contrasting the approaches of Avicenna and Averroes: 

Is the subject of the Metaphysics being insofar as it is being (ens inquantum ens) as Avicenna holds?  Or is it God and the intellectual (Intelligentiae) as the commentator Averroes suggests? [I. I(1891-5, v. 7, p. 11)]  

After discussing the question of whether metaphysics can have God as its subject, Avicenna concludes that since God's existence can be demonstrated, and since no particular discipline can demonstrate its own subject matter, then only metaphysics broadly conceived, as the study of ens inquantum ens, can establish divine existence. 

While Avicenna placed God under the metaphysics of being qua being, the other great Islamic commentator Averroes disagreed, holding that one does not need to establish God as the subject matter of a unique discipline, for the existence of God can be established by physics.  Accordingly, the subject matter of metaphysics, ens inquantum ens, concerns substance primarily, not God.  Metaphysics properly studies substance, but includes that "separate substance which is the first form and the end or final cause of all other substance" (387).  Physics establishes that there is such a separate substance, and metaphysics examines that substance as well as all other substances.  Most 13th and 14th century thinkers followed Avicenna: Metaphysics concerns ens inquantum ens, not divine being. 

While Sigar of Brabant and Duns Scotus both include the question of God within metaphysics, the latter explicitly denies that God can be its subject matter since metaphysics deals with the universal and the question of God is particular (389).  Scotus writes: 

Even though God, however, is not the first subject of metaphysics, God is nevertheless considered in that science in a most noble way (nobilissimo modo) in terms of which [God's being] can be considered as acquired naturally in another discipline (sciential) (Ord. Pros., pars 3, q. 2, n. 193).  

Is is well-known Aquinas differs from Scotus in his notion that the being of God cannot be included under the idea of ens communes (being in general).  However, despite the controversy on whether metaphysics or metaphysics + physics can establish that the cause of the ens communes, Thomas is certain that the question of God is properly included within metaphysics (390-91).  Ockham differs from all of these thinkers, holding that metaphysical propositions have different subjects, accordingly both ens inquantum ens and God are proper subjects of the objective propositions of metaphysics.         

---

[1] Aristotle did not call these books by this term, but named the discipline at work in it either 'first philosophy' or 'theology', calling the knowledge to which it aims, 'wisdom'.  See Michael Loux, Metaphysics.  A Contemporary Introduction, 3rd ed., (New York: Routledge, 2006), 2ff.    

[2] van Inwagen, Peter and Sullivan, Meghan, "Metaphysics", The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Spring 2015 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), URL = .

[3] Loux, 4.

[4] Aune, Metaphysics: The Elements (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1986). 

[5] The preceptive reader will recall that Kant subjects all of these three (rational theology, psychology and cosmology) to merciless attack in his Critique of Pure Reason.  As the domain of metaphysics was expanding in the seventeenth century, the term 'ontology' gained currency in dealing with select metaphysical questions directly pertaining to being.  Elisabeth Maria Rompe's Die Trennung von Ontologie und Metaphysik: Der Ablösungsprozess seine Motivierung bei Benedictus Peterius und anderem Denkern des 16. u. 17. Jahrhunderts (Bonn: Universität Bonn, 1967 diss.) provides a valuable insight into the process of the separation of the two terms.  

[6] John  Wippel, "Essence and Existence," in The Cambridge History of Later Medieval Philosophy, edts. Kretzmann, Kenny & Pinborg,(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 385-410. 

[7] Ibid., 385.

Philosophical Issues Undergirding Contemporary Proclamation

Theology was once a lofty discipline whose practitioners were among the brightest and best of their age.  In Luther's day candidates for the Doctor of Theology had first to receive a Masters of Arts in philosophy.  They knew the trivium (grammar, logic, and rhetoric), and they had exposure to the quadrivium (arithmetic, astronomy, geometry and music).  They understood Latin deeply and some learned Greek and Hebrew as well.   Luther knew his Aristotle well enough to realize that the Aristotle he encountered in the text was not the Aristotle that many theologians embraced in the High and Late Middle Ages.  Like in every age, Luther's era was a time in which philosophy and theology were deeply related.

Our age also is a time in which theological and philosophical matters are deeply connected.  The relationship between the two is so profound that many thinkers (often very deep theological thinkers) often overlook or miss it entirely.  But theologians today ignore philosophical issues at their own peril.  Deeply-educated in the Biblical text, its historical and social context, its history of reception, and effective homiletical techniques to proclaim it, theological thinkers often fail to examine and appreciate deeply enough the contemporary cultural and intellectual horizon into which the text is preached.  In failing to grasp the differing philosophical assumptions between textual origination and reception, they overlook the presuppositional issues making it difficult for the text to be properly understood be contemporary readers and hearers. These issues, I believe, our explicitly philosophical.  They involve such traditional and meaty philosophical concerns as ontology (the study of being), epistemology (the study of knowing), and semantics (the study of meaning).

In the following series of posts I will spell out what I believe to be some of the philosophical impediments to Biblical proclamation in our time.  The first series of questions revolve around ontology.

• Is God a real being, or a projection of human being?  If a real being, then in what sense is God real? Postmodern men and women are likely to have a non-thematized understanding of God's reality that differs markedly from that of the Biblical writers and the early horizon of the Bible's textual reception.  
• Is God the kind of being that is causally related to other kinds of being?  If God is causally related, then what is the possible mechanism of this relatedness?  Postmodern mean and women are likely non-thematically to assume that God is not a causally relevant entity. 
• Is God is a real being, then what is His constitution?  Are His properties separable from His being, or is He simple?  Postmodern men and women are likely to assume non-thematically that God is personal, that He "cares" even though He seldom (if ever) concretely causally effects the distribution of worldly properties.  

The next batch of questions concern epistemology.

• Is there knowledge of God, and how is such knowledge possible?  Postmodern men and women seem tacitly to assume that their own experience is relevant to their knowing God.  
• Does knowledge of God involve facts or merely values?  Postmodern men and women unreflectively suppose that God is somehow real for those who believe it so, and not real for others -- as if our valuing God affects the factuality of God.  
• Are there norms that sort proper evidence for God from improper appeals?  Postmodern men and women assume a perspectivalism making problematic any epistemic normatively.  

The final group questions -- the most important, I believe -- concern semantics, the meaning of our assertions about God. 

• How is the meaningfulness of theological and religious language established?  Does such language state possible real states of affairs, or is it merely expressive of the self?  Postmodern men and women rather unreflectively assume the latter.  
• Does theological and religious language have determinate truth conditions, that is, are there definite claims made by the language, and is there a definite way the world is, such that these propositions are true or false, and not merely comforting, useful or salutary?  Postmodern men and women non-thematically assume that the purpose of religious and theological language is to do something other than state what is the case with respect to the divine. 
• Since the meaning of language changes over time, can it be said that a theological claim made by a particular proposition in the fourth century means the same thing as the claim made by the same proposition today?  Postmodern men and women assume that language is unstable and that reference to some non-linguistic state of affairs is problematic.  

The overall semantic question can be summed up as follows: What does (or can) the Gospel mean in an age where the horizon of understanding of the reader or listener is pluralistic, therapeutic, and anti-realistic?  What can God-talk mean to those today (particularly the young) who neither know the intellectual tradition nor are normatively determined by it?      

In the next number of posts I will be exploring some of these issues.  I invite you to think through them with me.  Comments are welcome!           

Justifying the Individual

Though I have never posted a sermon before, I decided to post this one. It was preached at the Institute of Lutheran Theology shortly after the election. The text was Hebrews 10:11-25. Readers might think it wrong-headed, but as always I enjoy feedback and discussion.

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We had an election here in America.   Some say that it was the most important election of our lifetimes.   There is in America a fundamental parting of ways for those who deeply embrace the ideology of their parties.   Does one want smaller government with an emphasis on individual responsibility and innovation, or does one want larger government with an emphasis on what the power of the State can build and do?  One side concentrates upon the horizon of the individual, the other on the fabric of the community.  

Pundits and preachers on both sides proclaim the virtues of what we might call social/cultural atomism over and against social/cultural holism.  The first claims that the basic reality is that of individuality and groups are collections of individuals.  The second argues that the fundamental reality is community, and that individuals are merely the ways that communities have their being in a particular location.  Red states tend to reduce the behavior of wholes to the collection of the behavior of parts; blue states tend to claim that the behavior of the part is, in some sense, an abstraction from the behavior of the whole.  

Thus, when one claims, “it takes a village,” one is espousing a particular ontology about the logical priority of wholes and parts.   Since the study of wholes and parts is called “mereology,” to claim, “it takes a village,” is to adopt a particular “mereological ontology.”  So, you see, one can say a great many complex-sounding things about something that is really quite simple. 

But why would one say complex-sounding things about what is quite simple?  And, more to the point, why would one talk about parts and whole, red states and blue states?

Well, think about it for a moment.   Think about the great Christian narrative of creation, fall and redemption.  God made the universe good; the universe fell into being not-good and thus into being not-itself; and the universe through Christ became again what it is - - though it still retained the flavor of what it is not.  The process of the universe becoming again what it once most profoundly was is called in the tradition, “justification.”   We are made right again; like a well-tempered clavier, we are justified, rightly tuned again through the blood of Jesus. 

Traditional Catholic theology disagreed on many things, but one thing it mostly agreed upon was that ‘justified’ and ‘not-justified’ are antonyms.  The more just one is, the less unjust he or she can be.  If we are justified by Christ’s action, then we are not the unjust beings we were through the Fall.   Redemption brings forth a return to Paradise, a Return to Forever, a return to the time before time, the primal time of all Beginning, the state prior to the disruption, decay, and, in some sense, existence itself.  

Look at the text from Hebrews.   Christ has “perfected for all time those who are sanctified.”   This is the time of the forgiveness of sins, a time of sprinkling clean the conscience and ritually purifying the body, a time of promise and faith, of provocation to love and goodness, a time of the approaching Day. 

But attention to the text shows something quite complex happening.   While the Day of paradise has dawned in one sense, the habits of the old age remain.  This is why this is an approaching Day, and not a Day already attained.   The Day is dawning; Paradise is returning; the Old is passing away and the New is taking its place.   There is in this time of approaching Paradise, a time of perfection in that which is still not perfect.   While most of Catholic theology in one way or the other claimed that the more just was the New Day the less unjust was the Old Day, Luther and his Circle read Scripture and tradition in a way that allowed them to say that the New Day was totally present while the Old Day remained completely.   Lutheran theology claims thus that we sinners are wholly justified while remaining completely sinful: simul iustus et peccator.  

So have we got all of that clear?    - - I would think that most listening to this sermon would say, “Tell us something we don’t know.  We know that the Council of Trent condemned Luther for saying that sin remained after justification.  We know that we are simul iustus et peccator.”

Please bear with me if you know this already, and if my saying it again does not make it a clearer or a more effective Word for you.   What I have said so far is just setting the table for making the fundamental point.  I must now relate what I just said to what I said earlier.  Teachers and preachers are supposed to do that, after all, and because I am both, I will attempt to do it now. 

Justification for Lutherans brings back the Before in the not-Before.   It brings back Paradise outside of Paradise.  But what is the being of that which is not-Before and is now Before, of that which is not-Paradise but is now Paradise?  Is this being a being of individuals comprising groups, or is it the groups from which individuals are abstracted? 

You might think this a deeply irrelevant and tangential question.  What difference could this possibly make?

The difference, I aver, is profound and has everything to do with why Lutherans have split up and misunderstood each other so profoundly.   You see, Lutheran theology has always privileged the individual as the locus of justification.   I remember my old teacher, Dr. George Forell, would say there are no Christian institutions, only institutions in which there are Christians.   The term ‘Christian’ can accordingly only properly apply to individuals and not groups.   Individuals are justified by grace through faith, not groups.   Justification is the process of the individual becoming right with God, while his or her living out of that rightness is the Christian community or Church.  

But times are a changing.   In the nineteenth century the idea of a social group with a Geist or “spirit” gained ascendency.   With eyes on this world rather than the next, thinkers downplayed the idea of personal immortality in favor of the notion of achieving lasting being within the context of the group.  New eyes on the Old Testament thematized the notion of the Chosen People as a community of the faithful.  Justification increasingly became associated with a transition from social disorder to a melioration of that order.   This is, of course, exactly what one would think if one were to hold that the primary bearer of being is the community and not the individual. 

Time does not permit me to trace the subtle ways that this changed ontology changed Lutheran preaching.  In the Institute of Lutheran Theology, we explore these matters quite deeply.   The take-away, however, is that if primary being rests with the community, then the hearing of the Word must be a doing of the Word, for only in this way are communities changed.   Whereas in earlier times one could talk meaningfully about an “inner transformation” of the person, this is what is precluded in an ontology that takes the “inner” to be a mere abstraction of the real being of social order and community.  

The ELCA, the denominational body to which many of us previously belonged, privileged in their working theology an ontology of community.  Very subtly and gradually, sin became social fragmentation and justification become social integration.   Notions of individual resurrection were replaced by the idea of a resurrected community.   But the people of the pews did not abandon their previous ontology.   The blue state church, filled with individuals having red state commitments, imploded.   And here is where we find ourselves today. 

It is time today to understand what has gone wrong and return to a deep presupposition of Christianity itself:  We stand alone before a God that knows our every thought and breath; we stand naked underneath His eternal and wrathful divine gaze. 

Yet in the midst of this reality of being forever shut out of Paradise, a Word comes from God that is Himself God.   This Word claims us upon the horizon of our own being; He claims us not primarily as a people, but as me.   Listen!  You, yes, you yourself, are grasped eternally by the God whose justice can only reject you.  You, eternally have been grabbed and are being drug back to paradise.   God has a preferential option for you, not the social orders and structures you inhabit.   This is good news, exceedingly good news.   You yourself are precious and you yourself is where Christ is present! 

Had we remembered this, we would never have lost our way so deeply.  

An Interpretive Center

People sometimes remark that I oftentimes seem to write about putative philosophical issues rather then staying directly on task and use the theological language of our great Lutheran tradition.   Why would this be?  Is it that I somehow am not interested deeply in the traditional objects of Lutheran theological reflection?

No, this is not true.   I believe that the center of Lutheran theology is the proclamation of the free grace of Jesus Christ appropriated in faith.   When serving in the parish, I preached this each and every week.   I believe that the external Word interprets itself, striking the human heart both as Law and Gospel, and that through this Word we are justified and made free lords before God and dutiful servants to one another.   I believe that the great ecumenical creeds of the Church make definite truth-claims, and I routinely confess their truth.   I believe that Jesus Christ was true God and true man, and believe in Lutheran fashion in the genus maiestaticum, as well as the genus idiomaticum and genus apotelesmaticum.  So why talk about all of the philosophical issues if this theological core of beliefs is at the center of things?

The reason I am interested in discussing philosophical issues (mostly semantic and ontological) is because while Lutherans can still say all of the right things, they don't necessarily mean by these things what Lutherans once meant.

But why should this be a problem if all the same things are confessed?   Surely there can be different philosophischen Rictungen among confessing Lutherans.   After all, did not Wilhelm Hermann famously argue that metaphysics (and its variations) are irrelevant to solid, Lutheran confessional theology?   Did not the young Luther scholar Wilhelm Link, (who died much too soon in the war) argue that Luther claimed the same thing?  Isn't the greatness of Lutheran theology found in the freedom of interpretation in one's confessions?   Surely, we ought not to confuse the left hand and the right hand of God, the hand of reason, law and philosophy, and the hand of faith, grace and theology!

Luther in his various disputations would occasionally quip that what was finally important in disputing was an agreement not merely in speech, but in the things (in res).  An agreement as to what is held or asserted has been crucially important in the development of doctrine generally and within the Lutheran Confessions specifically.   The question is this:  How does this Lutheran commitment to the truth of propositions from the tradition and the Confessions get appropriated in our time?   My considered opinion is that there is a great deal of confusion here, and my fear is that this confusion could be disastrous for the future of Lutheran theology. 

When one plays baseball, one plays by baseball rules.  There are three outs per side, both teams batting once constitutes an inning, and there are nine innings in a game.  (I am thinking about the major and minor leagues with respect to this last point.)   Proper theological language has rules as well.   One must know how to use the word 'Father' and the word 'Son'.  Specifically, one must be able to say 'The Son is God', 'The Father is God', without saying 'The Father is the Son'.  Rules permitting the right expressions in the right linguistic circumstances and prohibiting the wrong ones in the wrong circumstances are notoriously difficult to formulate, but there is little doubt that there exist some set of rules that undergird the modus loquendi theologicus.   

So far so good.   One could in principle formulate a theological game as well as a game of black hole theory.   Within contemporary cosmological theory, certain terms occur in particular statements and not within others.  Prima facie there does not seem to be much different between the formal structure of a Trinitarian language and that language of any heavily theoretical discipline.   There is a proper and improper way of using terms and phrases.   The question now confronts us:  Are the semantics of the two games the same?

On this there is much difference of opinion, of course.    Many would say that there is extra-linguistic set of referents to which the language of black holes is anchored that is not available for the theoretical language of the Trinity.   But why would this be so?   Why would one think there is some res that black hole theory has the theology does not have?    One would not think this - - unless one had previous opinions about what is possible ontologically for the Trinity over and against black holes.

Since the time of the Enlightenment, there has been an increasing sense in the former Christian West that the language of theology does not make truth claims.   While most within popular culture - - I am not talking here about philosophers of science - - would claim that there are clear truth conditions for black hole theory, they would not, if they reflected some, claim easily that there are similar truth conditions in theology.  The reason, of course, is that for tens of millions of people theological language simply can't be making truth claims because such language is an expression of individual and cultural value.  There simply is no realm of theological facts such that the rules of theological language can govern a linguistic usage that can bring the language into contact with a domain of extra-linguistic referents.  The fact/value distinction is wholly enshrined within contemporary culture, and this descendent from the Enlightenment must be dealt with before theological language is afforded the same opportunity to refer as the language of black holes.

My claim has been and continues to be that the interpretive center has been lost within much of Lutheran theology in the first part of the twenty-first century.   The problem has been that a general cultural/intellectual commitment to the Enlightenment paradigm, especially Kant, has led millions to presuppose different semantic possibilities for that language than that which generally characterized the tradition.   I am not saying that much of this is explicit.  (Increasingly few people even know the name 'Kant'.)  But middle school children learn that science is about facts and religion is about values.   They don't know the torturous intellectual history that brought civilization to this "insight."  They are taught this fact/value distinction as if it fell from the heavens.   It is part of the Enlightenment paradigm, a paradigm that functions as the default ontological posit of our time.   What I am saying is this: To continue to divorce theology and metaphysics and to allow the fact/value distinction to stand inviolate, is to allow theological language not to be about truth, and it is thus to allow theological language to assume a different semantics than it previously had.

The Institute of Lutheran Theology is grounded in Scripture and Confessions.   It holds assiduously to classical confessional Lutheran theology.  Professors at ILT are passionate about their commitment to Scriptural truth and authority as it is known and understood through the hermeneutical lens of the Confessions.   While students are exposed to the great Biblical exegetes and the great theologians of the tradition, they learn the most important thing, I believe, that a school of theology can impart: ILT believes that it is true that God was in Jesus Christ reconciling the world unto Himself, and that because of this truth we have good grounds to preach and teach in His Name.