Comparison Theory of Metaphor and Theology

Those who advocate comparison theory generally claim that metaphors “help us to make sense of things with which we are initially unfamiliar by making comparisons.”^[1] Thinking metaphorically (according to this model) means perceiving similarities between two otherwise divergent objects, events or structures (e.g. “Man is a puppet.”).^[2] Moreover, comparison theory assumes that metaphorical constructions of the form “S is P” condense the locutionary forms “S is like P.” According to the comparison view, metaphorical constructs tend to make implicit or explicit comparisons.[3]

Comparison theory further suggests that metaphors provide an innovative portrayal of reality by combining “a dialectic of the familiar and the strange.”^[4] It thereby implies that metaphors are both tools of discovery and lingual stratagems that presage interpretations of human experience in more adequate terms. Additionally, metaphors are iconoclastic in that they now and again eradicate unsatisfactory construals of lived existence.[5] For instance, tropes occasionally militate against prevailing social institutions,[6] their ongoing maintenance and meaning-constituting plausibility structures (i.e. foundations that legitimate socially constructed worlds).^[7] Combes fittingly deems metaphors “dangerous things.”^[8] They are capable of altering the existing status quo; moreover, communicative agents evidently preserve or slay each other in accordance with metaphors that comprise social discourse.[9] It also seems that metaphors have the ability to shape one’s belief or disbelief in God. Fretheim thus argues that “metaphors matter” when one is formulating theology.[10]

In addition to having a sociogenic function (i.e. metaphors have the ability to constitute or influence societal institutions), tropes appear capable of disclosing that which is ineffable, abstract, supersensible or transcendent.^[11] The process of phenomenological unconcealing generally transpires by means of a speaker or discourse agent interchanging familiar and strange concepts, nominals or genera in order to make comparisons.[12] This function ultimately plays an integral role in theology or the formulation of theoretical thought. For instance, the Gospel of John identifies Christ as “the lamb of God” (John 1:29). The imagery that the author employs conveys profound religious truths that are best understood within the cultural context of the Gospel. The “lamb” metaphor evokes images of ritual or sin-atoning practices carried out in ancient Israel. The Gospel of John does not just utilize the metaphor based on natural properties indigenous to a lamb.[13] One also witnesses the revelatory nature of tropic speech in substitution theories of metaphor. The most celebrated substitution theory is that model wrought by Aristotle of Stagira.

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^[1] Sanders, God Who Risks, 15.

^[2] McFague 15; Sokolowski, Introduction to Phenomenology, 171; Duck, Gender and the Name of God, 14; Kjärgaard, Metaphor and Parable, 44-45.

[3] Ibid.

^[4] Kasper, God of Jesus Christ, 93. Sokolowski argues: “Metaphor rearranges the potentials of our sensibility and provokes a new way of perceiving” (Husserlian Meditations, 227). The verb “perceive,” here means “any unarticulated intuition at all,” not just intentional activities such as seeing or touching.

[5] Kasper, God of Jesus Christ, 93.

[6] See Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” for an example of this phenomenon.

^[7] Sanders, God Who Risks, 11-12. Authors such as Maureen Tilley, The Bible in Christian North Africa, 5-7; Peter L. Berger, The Sacred Canopy: Elements of a Sociological Theory of Religion (Garden City: Doubleday, 1967), 45-47, Lewis R. Gordon, Her Majesty’s Other Children: Sketches of Racism from a Neocolonial Age (Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield, 1997), 38-39 and Richard C. Lewontin, Biology as Ideology: The Doctrine of DNA (New York: Harper Perennial, 1991), 7 discuss social construction and the role of social plausibility structures.

[8] I. A. H. Combes, The Metaphor of Slavery in the Writings of the Early Church: From the New Testament to the Beginning of the Fifth Century (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1998), 11.

[9] See “Metaphors We Kill by.”

[10] The Suffering of God, 1.

^[11] Fretheim, Suffering God, 5-12.

[12] Kittay, Metaphor, 4.

[13] Francis J. Moloney, The Gospel of John. Sacra Pagina (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1998), 58-59; Gerald Borchert, John 1-11, 135-136; Aune, Revelation 1-5, 52A: 367-373.

Was Lactantius an Arian?

As indicated above, most historians analyzing the Lactantian corpus exhibit a predilection for the non-theological aspects of his work. They usually concede the graceful eloquence of Lactantius^[1] or his patent ability to rebuff ideological onslaughts mounted against the Christian faith; or scholars laud the natural facility of Lactantius to sway eminent political leaders in favor of the church.^[2] But not every writer extols the virtues of Lactantius. Notably, Jerome (340-420 CE) and a number of contemporary scholars^[3] have called into question his proficiency as a theologian or Christian thinker.^[4] Some ecclesiastical chroniclers alternately describe the African rhetor as shallow, naïve, or inept in the matter of articulating sound Christian doctrine.^[5] For instance, Hagenbach states: “Unfortunately, the quality of his [theological] thought does not correspond to the excellence of its expression.”^[6] He argues that Lactantian theology is “an isolated phenomenon” of ancient Christianity that “has always been regarded as heterodox.”^[7] Yet, Hagenbach’s negative assessment of Lactantian thought lacks requisite subtlety and it is possibly at variance with the extant historical data available to modern students of ecclesiastical history. Consequently, there appear to be three substantial reasons for critically assessing Hagenbach’s evaluation of Lactantian theology.

First, one already witnesses doctrinal phenomena in Latin theology that resembles the christology or paterology of Lactantius.^[8] Hippolytus of Rome (c. 160-236 CE)[9] evidently thought of Jesus Christ as “a created being to whom divinity had been arbitrarily and temporarily assigned.”^[10] Hippolytus in all likelihood does not affirm the eternal generation of the Son and even refers to him as a “creature,” although speech relating to the Father, Son and Holy Spirit admittedly was somewhat fluid in his day.[11] Tertullian also believes that the Son is “derivative” (portio totius) or ontologically subordinate to the Father^[12] but he is not alone in this regard, since “Fourth-century inscriptions [from North Africa] if anything emphasize the subordination of Son to Father.”^[13] Indeed, few Christians living in North Africa took umbrage with the so-called Arian theology of Donatus (De viris illustribus 93).^[14] Lactantian paterology or christology, therefore, does not appear to have been an isolated phenomenon in Christian antiquity.^[15]

Second, antecedent to Nicea, the Christian tradition^[16] tout court evidently did not supply an unambiguous answer to queries concerning the Son of God’s ontological identity or his putative immanent relationship with God the Father (De Principiis, Preface 2).^[17] Norbert Brox recounts that there was no universal definition of the belief in a tripersonal God prior to Nicea, “only rival [triadic] traditions and schemes.”^[18] Jaroslav Pelikan has even argued that it may not be advisable to think of the pro-Nicene Christians or “heterodox” Arians as diametrically opposed groups since both movements “worshiped” the Son of God in that Arians and pro-Nicenes mutually intoned hymnic praises to Christ while simultaneously lauding his presumed timeless generation from the Father.^[19] Arius adjudged Christ as “fully God,” despite the fact that he admittedly believed the Father created the Son from nothing (ex nihilo).[20] In any event, it seems that the orthodox pro-Nicene party had not yet disambiguated or formalized its doctrine of Christ when Lactantius composed his apologetic treatises.[21] Therefore, it is difficult to affix the label “heretic” to him; the assignation of this descriptive term (in this case) is anachronistic.

Robert Wilken states that orthodox pre-Nicene Christians typically were inclined to believe that the Son is not “fully God.”^[22] These early followers of the risen Messiah possibly did not affirm that he instantiates every divine-constituting property exemplified by the Father.^[23] Pre-Nicene writers thereby appear to have conceived the Son’s divinity as relative rather than absolute; they considered the Son’s mode of being God ontologically dependent on the Father’s godhood.^[24] The pre-Nicenes generally maintain that Christ derives his divine-constituting properties from the Father. Hence, Sergius Bulgakov is exceedingly critical of patristic christology. He contends that “ontological subordinationism” pervades the writings of western theologians in the early church.^[25] Therefore, the formative theology of Lactantius on balance is not a solitary phenomenon.

A third reason for not accepting uncritically Hagenbach’s evaluation of Lactantian theology has to do with ecclesiastical formality. In nuce, no conciliar body has ever determined Lactantius’ doctrine of Christ or God to be heretical[26] nor is there good reason to believe that the apologist was, strictly speaking, an Arian (as Hagenbach claims) although he may not have circumvented subordinating Christ to the Father per essentiam.^[27] Much depends on how one defines “Arianism.” It is possible that Lactantius avoided being an Arian (formally speaking) by conceptually devising a supernatural generation for the Son of God that palpably differed from the christological origin postulated by Arius. He certainly does not state that God created the Son ex nihilo (Divinae institutiones 4.8.6-10). Consequently, although Lactantius might be an ontological subordinationist respecting his christological orientation, he probably is not an Arian regarding his doctrine of Christ.^[28]

While appraisals of Lactantian theology now and again can be stringent in nature, some historians note that he was attempting to illuminate the Christian understanding of God the Father and his Son before the church had defined (formulaically or precisely) the transcendent relationship purportedly obtaining between God, Christ and the Holy Spirit.^[29] At any rate, when judged against the standards of his own socio-historical or religious context, Lactantius may not appear to be so inept or heretical since he reflected on God within a particular early Christian matrix or distinctive ancient cultural milieu. It accordingly seems that Lactantius availed himself of theological, literary or conceptual materials that were accessible to him.[30] Hence, along the lines of other seminal Christian thinkers, one probably should evaluate Lactantius based on the resources that were at his disposal: Lactantius should be appraised with respect to the socio-religious environment wherein he lived, thought, and articulated theological concepts.

Having given an overview of Lactantian studies and scholarly assessments of him, this study will now outline Lactantius’ employment of father imagery in speech concerning God. He seems to construe “Father” as a metaphor that delineates God’s intimate affinity for his Son and the world. Hence, it seems that Lactantius does not impute masculinity to God’s inner life. The subsequent portion of this investigation will thus propose that early Christians (including Lactantius) generally viewed the paternitas of God metaphorically. They thought of God as an emblematic Father.

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¹ See Hans Lietzmann, A History of the Early Church. Two Volumes. Translated by Bertram Lee Woolf (Cleveland and New York: Meridian Books, 1961), 1:174; Otto Bardenhewer. Patrology: The Lives and Works of the Fathers of the Church. Translated by Thomas J. Shahan (Freiburg im Breisgau and Saint Louis: Herder, 1908), 203-204; Marcia L. Colish. Medieval Foundations of the Western Intellectual Tradition: 400-1400 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1997), 14; Johannes Quasten. Patrology (Utrecht-Antwerp: Spectrum, 1975), 393-394; McGuckin, “The Christology of Lactantius,” 813; Campenhausen, Fathers of the Church, 64; Frend, The Rise of Christianity, 451. Cf. Jerome Epistle 70.5.

² Digeser, Making of a Christian Empire.

³ Jerome writes: “Utinam tam nostra confirmare potuisset quam facile aliena destruxit” (Epistle 58.10). See Bardenhewer, Patrology, 203; Greer, “Cicero’s Sketch,” 155.

⁴ Colish refers to Lactantius’ “rather sketchy grasp of Christian theology” (Medieval Foundations, 14). See Micka, Problem of Divine Anger, 100; Pichon, Lactance, 17; Labriolle, History and Literature of Christianity, 199. Studer, Trinity and Incarnation, 191 calls Lactantius a “simpleminded theologian,” which sounds like a backhanded compliment.

⁵ See Bowen and Garnsey, Divine Institutes, 5. For what appears to be a balanced assessment of Lactantius, see Robert L. Wilken’s The Spirit of Early Christian Thought: Seeking the Face of God (Yale University Press, 2003), 297. He acknowledges the Lactantian lack of theological depth, but still points out that he had insights that eluded other ancient theologians.

⁶ K. R. Hagenbach, A Text-Book of the History of Doctrines, (NY: Sheldon and Company) 1:244. While Jerome appears to downplay Lactantius’ skill as a theologian, he states regarding Lactantian eloquence: “Vir omnium suo tempore eloquentissimus, quasi quidam fluvius eloquentiae Tullianae” (ibid). See Bardenhewer, Patrology, 203-204.

Jerome (Epistle 84.7; Comm in Gal ad 4.6) also contends that Lactantius denied the existence of the Holy Spirit as a divine person in a work entitled Letters to Demetrianus that is no longer extant. He thus believed that Lactantius was not well versed scripturally (Quasten, Patrology, 407). For an opposing interpretation of Jerome’s words, see Bowen and Garnsey, Divine Institutes, 5.

⁷ Hagenbach, Text-book, 1:244. Grillmeier contends: “Methodius of Olympus, Lactantius and an unknown preacher on the ‘three fruits of the spiritual life’ would seem to be much nearer to the suspicion of Arian heresy” (Christ, 61). See J. Barbel’s Christos Angelos, 181-195.

⁸ W. H. C. Frend, The Rise of Christianity (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), 344-346. Reinhold Seeberg, 1:126. The History of Doctrines. 2 vols. (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1977), 1:169-171.

[9] The present author recognizes that Hippolytus did not write in Latin. However, it seems appropriate to mention him since Tertullian influenced his christology and Hippolytus was part of the church in Rome. Moreover, his christological thought exemplifies that of the apologists, who did compose their works in Latin.

¹⁰ Frend, Rise of Christianity, 345. Refutatio 10.33 ostensibly corroborates this intuition.

[11] Bigg, Origins of Christianity; Jenson, The Triune Identity, 82.

¹² See Frend, Rise of Christianity, 345; Gerald Bray, Doctrine of God, 130-131. Adversus Praxean 9 refers to the Son as a “derivation” and “portion of the whole” divine substance.

¹³ Frend, Rise of Christianity, 346.

¹⁴ Ibid.

¹⁵ Admittedly, a number of scholars argue that the subordination of Tertullian and other pre-Nicenes was economic, not immanent subordinationism. But there is historical evidence that alternatively favors either side of the argument. See Jenson, Systematic Theology; Lacugna, God for Us; W. Markus, Der Subordinationismus: als historisches Phanomenon (München: M. Hubner, 1963), 171; S. H. Mellone, Leaders of Early Christian Thought, 178.

¹⁶ By “tradition,” in this study, we mean “the handing down of Christian teaching during the course of the history of the church, but it also means that which was handed down” (Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, 1:7). The term encompasses orthodox teachings handed down in both the East and the West.

¹⁷ See Gregory J. Riley, The River of God: A New History of Christian Origins (HarperCollins: New York, 2001), 81; Bowen and Garnsey, Divine Institutes, 5.

¹⁸ Brox, History of the Early Church, 154.

¹⁹ Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, 1:200.

[20] Theodoret, Ecclesiastical History 1.4.

[21] Greer, “Cicero’s Sketch,” 156.

²² Robert Wilken, The Myth of Christian Beginnings (London: SCM Press, 1979), 179; Bray, Doctrine of God, 130-131. For a contrasting but nuanced viewpoint, see Wagner, After the Apostles, 112.

²³ The expression “divine constituting property” here denotes a characteristic or attribute that constitutes an entity as divine in the unmitigated sense that the entity is (with respect to its being) “God.” A similar expression that Alvin Plantinga employs for God is “great making property.” Hence, in Plantinga’s estimation, God is the greatest conceivable being in that he exemplifies great making properties. See Hasker and Peterson, Philosophy of Religion: Selected Readings. This study uses the verbs “exemplify” and “instantiate” interchangeably.

²⁴ See C. C. Richardson, Ignatius of Antioch; Kelly, Doctrines, 125-126 on Novatian. Grant (Gods and the One God) presents evidence that subordination was a universally accepted datum among the pre-Nicenes. Compare R. P. C. Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1988), 3.

²⁵ The Comforter (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 9-15.

[26] See Gelasius, Pope. Decretum de libris recipiendis et non recipiendis (Texte und

Untersuchungen 38.4). Ed. Ernst von Dobschutz. Leipzig, 1912.

²⁷ Hagenbach, History of Doctrines, 1:244. See Loi, Vincenzo, S.D.B. “Cristologia e soteriologia nella dottrina di Lattanzio,” Rivista di Storia e Letterature religiosa 4 (1968) 237-287.

²⁸ This investigation will explore the Lactantian doctrine of Christ and its relation to his teaching regarding God the Father in Chapter 5 of this study.

²⁹ Macdonald, Divine Institutes; Bowen and Garnsey, Divine Institutes, 5 (note 23).

[30] Schneweis notes that Lactantius adheres closely to the Christian writers of the African Church with respect to the content of his apologetics (Angels and Demons, 14). This apologetic approach no doubt contributes to Lactantius’ theological methods and expressions.

Concerning Brute Facts

Institutional facts differ from brute facts in that the former are ontologically subjective, but sociologically objective; the latter, conversely, are not dependent on individual or corporate (= collective or shared) intentionality for their existence.[1] They appear to be ontologically objective: “Brute facts require no human institutions for their existence.”^[2] Searle defines facts (brute or institutional) as “conditions in the world that satisfy the truth conditions expressed by statements.”[3] He construes “facts” as truth makers. Accordingly, the existence of the Sun or the atomic weight of hydrogen are brute facts that objectively satisfy certain truth conditions associated with locutions such as “The atomic weight of hydrogen is 1,” while “This loaf on the table is showbread” constitutes an assertion that is institutionally factual.[4] More specifically, the utterance regarding showbread is only a genuine datum, Searle would probably insist, if and only if a determinate social group has invested a certain loaf of bread on a particular table with a designated status-function “showbread.”[5] Correspondingly, the rules associated with games like cricket, football, basketball, golf apparently are the result of corporate intentionality: discourse communities valorize these various games by means of “we-intentions.” Vanhoozer contends that sports games are products of human valorization.^[6] Their respective status-functions depend on the representational system of a given speech community and its collective intentionality. As such, they are institutional facts.[7] Institutional facts are a particular subset of social facts.

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^[1] Searle, Construction of Social Reality, 27.

^[2] Ibid. 2. See Vanhoozer, Is There a Meaning, 250; Pinker, Blank Slate, 65.

[3] Searle, Construction of Social Reality, 211.

[4] The present author is not suggesting that the proposition concerning showbread is only an institutional fact. But, at the very least, the claim regarding showbread is an institutional fact. If Judaism (along with its arrangements for worship or atonement) had never existed, then “showbread” (as it is currently known) would never have existed. For a similar line of reasoning, see Vanhoozer, Is There a Meaning, 213-214.

[5] Searle, Construction of Social Reality, 2.

^[6] See Vanhoozer, Is There a Meaning, 244-245; Austin, How to Do Things with Words, 106.

[7] For a sustained critique of Searle’s notion of institutional facts, see Alex Viskovatoff’s “Searle, Rationality, and Social Reality,” 7-44 in Koepsell and Moss (ed), in John Searle’s Ideas about Social Reality: Extensions, Criticisms, and Reconstructions (Malden and Oxford: Blackwell, 2003). He argues that rational agents do not have to collectively accept institutions in order for them to exist.

Lactantius on Divine Revelation

Lactantius considers divine revelation immeasurably superior to human reason: “Even when he refers to the nature and reason of man, it is always God who must make accessible the way to real cognition.”[1] Therefore, the North African primarily is apophatic in his theological orientation, fervently seeking to persuade his audience that rational creatures cannot immediately apprehend God’s quiddity through the senses or the mind.[2] In Lactantius, one encounters another Christian writer maintaining that it is less difficult to predicate what God is not (quid deus non est) than to predicate what God essentially is. Humans cannot penetrate the divine oracles or mysteries unless the Most High deigns to reveal sacred truth to finite intellection (Divinae institutiones 3.6.3-4).[3] Advocating supernatural revelation over against unilluminated reason, Lactantius insists that neither sensory experience nor human intellection can bridge the yawning chasm that demarcates infinite being and finite beings.[4] He professes that spatio-temporal bound agents grasp the infinite only when God unveils himself to rational agents having pious inclinations.[5] The disclosure of transcendent reality evidently occurs through God’s revelatory initiative. For if the finite could grasp the infinite apart from the infinite condescending to the finite, then divine supremacy or otherness would severely be compromised.[6] However, since “it is impossible for divine thinking to become known to man by his own efforts,” both God’s preeminence and otherness remain unscathed in the transcendent act of revelation.[7]

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[1] Van Campenhausen, Latin Church Fathers, 70.

[2] DI 1.1.5.

[3] DI 1.1.5.

[4] Ibid. Compare Cyprian, Idol 9: “He cannot be seen-He is too bright for vision; nor comprehended-He is too pure for our discernment; nor estimated-He is too great for our perception; and therefore we are only worthily estimating Him when we say that He is inconceivable.”

[5] DI 1.1.6-7.

[6] Ibid. 1.1.5.

[7] DI 1.1.6.

Metaphor and the Depiction of Reality

Gerald O’Collins and Daniel Kendall argue that theological metaphors “refer to and describe reality.”[1] Concurring with Janet Soskice, they reason that metasememes speak about one thing in terms that appear suggestive of another thing.[2] For example, God does not instantiate the literal mind-independent properties of a crag, but the ancient Hebrew prophets articulate speech regarding YHWH in ways that appear suggestive of a rock. Likewise, YHWH is called “a sun and shield” in Psalm 84:11(12).[3] Yet, he apparently does not exemplify the matter-of-fact predicates that structurally constitute the Sun or a shield.[4] In these instances, the Bible writers presumably are employing tropes to speak about one entity (God) in terms suggestive of other entities (rock, Sun or shield). Metaphor permits the writers of Scripture to describe the supreme reality adequately, though indirectly. Far from being linguistically insufficient or vulnerable, theological metaphors seem to accomplish what “proper terminology” (De oratore 3.152-155) cannot achieve; they convey truths that non-tropic expressions attributing matter-of-fact properties to a particular subject are incapable of communicating.

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[1] Bible for Theology, 83.

[2] Ibid.

[3] Cite the version.

[4] David H. Aaron, however, espouses the view that “historical intervention” is what the writer of Psalm 84:11(12) intends. He maintains that the psalmist (by stating that “God is shield” or “God is sun”) predicates that YHWH literally is sun or shield. While Aaron denies that “God is sun/shield” asserts an ontological identity between YHWH and sun/shield, he nonetheless holds that ontological identity is not the only genuine alternative to metaphorical signification. See Biblical Ambiguities: Metaphor, Semantics, and Divine Imagery (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 57-59. Other scholars, conversely, view the language composing the psalm in question as metaphorical (Schneiders, Women and the Word, 26; Tate, Psalms 51-100, 361). Tate notes that although “sun” evidently is not utilized metasememically for YHWH elsewhere, the term is a rather “common royal epithet” found in ANE texts. Cf. Isaiah 60:19; Revelation 21:23; 22:5 for text that use sun imagery for God.

Tertullian on the Pater Noster

One finds some of the most poignant and significant uses of the term “Father” for God in the work On Prayer (De oratione). Tertullian comments on the opening refrain of the pater noster by declaring: “Happy are they that acknowledge the Father!”^[1] Michael J. Brown has demonstrated that the pater noster is a distinctive invocation since it does not contain any sacred epithets (cognomina) that describe the God and Father of Jesus Christ.[2] He suggests that the invocation, when heard by a typical Greco-Roman, would probably have evoked notions of a Roman household head (paterfamilias)[3] or called to mind the ancient patron-client relationship as well as similar types of divine prayers incorporated in then contemporary Greco-Roman literature. Moreover, the prayer may have reminded some Roman citizens of the emperor, whom Romans considered father of their homeland (pater patriae).[4] Tertullian himself probably viewed “Father” as a divine cognomen and metaphor.[5] His exegesis of the dominical oration indicates as much since he linguistically parallels “Father” and “God,” indicating that he believes the former is an integral designation for the maximally excellent being: “Moreover, in saying ‘Father,’ we also call Him ‘God.’ That appellation is one both of filial duty and of power" (De oratione 2.10-11). Tertullian reasons that addressing God as pater obligates believers to obey or dutifully worship the omnipotent deity. By rendering “filial duty” (pietas) to the Father, one simultaneously honors the Son: “‘For I,’ says he, ‘and the Father are one' " (Ibid).

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⁷²⁷ “Felices qui patrem agnoscunt” (De oratione 2.7-8).

[2] The Lord’s Prayer through North African Eyes: A Window into Early Christianity (London and New York: T & T Clark International, 2004), 4.

[3] Cf. Matthew 10:25; 13:27, 52; 20:1, 11; 21:33; 24:43. One biblical Greek term for a household head commonly is oivkodespo,thj. See also the entry for ku,rio,j in BDAG.

[4] Brown, The Lord’s Prayer, 4; Eva Marie Lassen, “The Roman Family: Ideal and Metaphor,” in Halvor Moxnes (editor), Constructing Early Christian Families: Family as Social Reality and Metaphor (London and New York: Routledge, 1997), 110-112. See DI 5 for an example of the Emperor being called “parent” or Father. Cf. Tertullian’s Apologeticum 34.2.

[5] Ibid. Lord’s Prayer, 246.

Augustine and the Simplicity of God

Aristotle makes an ontological distinction between substances and accidents. Significantly, Augustine develops his predicational view of divinity within a Platonic or Aristotelian metaphysical framework. For example, the bishop thinks substantia is virtually equivalent to the Latin essentia or Greek ousia (De Trinitate 5.2.3). God is uniquely "substance" (essentia) in that divinity does not exemplify any contingent or non-essential properties (= accidents). Almighty God just is his own wisdom, goodness, power, love or mercy (i.e. the "simplicity of God"). Divine simplicity means that God is neither composite nor mereologically constituted: there is no potentiality in God since deity possesses no parts (the divine one is actus purus). Being non-composite, God is not an entity constituted of form and matter. He is just pure form.

Of course, the teaching of God’s simplicity (simplicitas Dei) does not fail to encounter its own logical difficulties. Copan and Craig argue that it "seems patently false" to make the assertion that God does not have properties that are distinct from one another. The property of being good apparently is different from the property of being omniscient, just as the property of being omnipotent is not identical with the abstract property of being omnibenevolent. Moreover, Stead argues that it is problematic to argue that God’s action is "simple and uniform." For divine simplicity does not adequately explain how God loves many creatures or governs the multitudinous events occurring in the world; nor does it seem to preserve the notion of a God, who personally acts in the world of his creation. Defenders of this doctrine, however, contend that the supposed problematics associated with God's simplicity emanate from dissimilar ontological emphases between the medieval and modern periods, not from the concept of simplicity itself. The medieval thinkers stress constituent ontology, whereas moderns tend to emphasize relational ontology. Whether the difficulties of the doctrine are real or imagined, it seems certain that one encounters the simplicity of God doctrine in Augustine (Confessions 4.16.28).

Philo and the Divine Name

The Greek expression ho on used by Philo (strictly speaking) only depicts "an aspect of [God's] potencies" since God reputedly does not possess any distinguishing self-designation: "God indeed needs no name; yet, though He needed it not, He nevertheless vouchsafed to give to humankind a name of Himself suited to them, that so men might be able to take refuge in prayers and supplications and not be deprived of comforting hopes." Philo effectively makes a distinction of reason (distinctio rationis) between names of substance (nomina substantiae) and names of mercy (nomina misericordiae) when he suggests a proximate referring term for YHWH. He asserts that there exist both names descriptive of God’s substance and names vouchsafed to humankind founded on God's compassionate mercy. However, immanently, Philo holds that God is anonymous. One encounters a similar notion in Cratylus 400-401.

The Philonic doctrine of innominability appears perplexing in view of the emphasis on a nomen proprium for God in the Tanakh (Exodus 3:15; Isaiah 42:8; Zechariah 14:9). The Tetragrammaton (YHWH) occurs nearly 7,000 times in the canonical Hebrew-Aramaic Scriptures. One consequently wonders whether Philo either knew Hebrew or was personally acquainted with the quadrilateral name of God that one encounters frequently in the Jewish Scriptures. It is highly probable that he was neither conversant with Hebrew nor the proper name of God (Shem ha-meforash). A number of related factors certainly suggest that Philo lacked adequate proficiency in a Semitic language: his educational background, Sitz-im-Leben and philosophico-theological treatises all indicate that the Alexandrian did not have a suitable grasp of Hebrew.

First, it is evident that Philo had a traditional Hellenic education. He possessed a well-rounded knowledge of Homer, Demosthenes, Greek poetry as well as Platonic and Stoic philosophy. Although Philo had an "excellent education" in matters Jewish and Greek, Dillon thinks that he was not proficient with Hebrew as evidenced by his vague allusions to the Tetragrammaton and his mistaken etymologies for Semitic names. Philo "frequently" misconstrues Semitic etymologies, ostensibly being dependent on the Greek Septuagint (LXX) version of the Bible. The extant data would appear to indicate that he scarcely knew any Hebrew and possibly did not even have first-hand acquaintance with the four Hebrew letters that constitute God's proper name (YHWH).

Second, Koine Greek was the universal language (Weltsprache) of first century Jews in Alexandria. This socio-historical datum is one factor that motivates David Runia to conclude: "That Philo himself had no knowledge of Hebrew is almost certain. It was therefore an event of enormous importance for the Jewish community in Alexandria that the Hebrew Bible was translated into Greek." Hence, Philo's lack of familiarity with Hebrew may partially explain his innominability doctrine. On the other hand, his theoretical assumptions pertaining to ultimate reality and categorically shaped this belief as well.

Amazon Review of Syntax of NT Greek

The work Syntax of New Testament Greek which is authored by James A. Brooks and Carlton L. Winbery is superb help for persons studying intermediate Greek. This book is over 204-pages in length. It discusses syntax or the order of words in relation to substantives, verbs, and Greek sentences. The customary examples of cases in Greek or verb "tense" are given along with examples illustrating how NT writers employ indirect discourse with hOTI or hINA clauses. Syntax of New Testament Greek is easy to use, practical and contains adequate explanations of Greek syntactical phenomena.

For instance, Brooks and Winbery define terms such as "substantive," "number," "gender" (as it pertains to grammar) and "case" before they explain Greek cases such as nominative or the accusative case. The genitive case is classified into such categories as "Genitive of description" (that is, the genitive attributes a quality or relationship to the substantive), "Genitive of relationship" (this category is actually an extension of the genitive of possession), and "adverbial genitive."

Examples that illustrate these types of genitives (along with helpful translations) are given. E.G. the words LOGOIS THS XARITOS (Luke 4:22) illustrate the "genitive of description." The authors render these words thus: "words of grace." And there are five other scriptural examples provided for the genitive of description.

The foregoing is only part of the helpful material contained in this work. I would highly recommend this book, although there are certain ideas presented that I would not accept uncritically. But this book serves a very useful purpose. It will remain a classic for students of Greek syntax.

Amazon Review of Matthew Alfs' Concepts of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit

Matthew Alfs has produced a unique and objective work that illuminates both Trinitarian and Non-Trinitarian concepts of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Alfs' work is not only helpful because it clearly states the major creeds of Christendom, but the study superbly defines key terms of Trinitarianism. Of course, Alfs is not content to interpret Trinitarian concepts on his own; rather, he quotes profusely from those who espouse the said tenets. This feature accentuates the approach of this work.

Alfs provides definitions of nomenclature such as "Essence," "substance," "nature," "relation" and "subsistence" from authoritative sources. He systematically unfolds the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Trinitarian concepts. We are treated to an illuminating discussion of eternal generation as it pertains to the Son over against eternal spiration of the Holy Spirit. Alfs argues that Trinitarian dogma does not allow for subordination among the TREIS hUPOSTASEIS or TRES PERSONAE. He cites a few Catholic theologians to buttress his point.

In the second part of the study, Alfs unfolds non-Trinitarian groups. He discusses Jehovah's Witnesses, the Church of God, the Unitarians, Christadelphians and other groups. His book is well-written and very objective. I thoroughly enjoyed reading Alfs' work and it has been used as a reference by this reviewer more times than I care to count. This book has references to scholarly works in the back matter and also contains an index. It is a requisite tool for exploring Trinitarian and non-Trinitarian concepts.

Lactantius Unmasks Jupiter

One major claim of Divinae institutiones is that if discourse agents spurn the omnipotent fatherly deity above, then pacific conditions among human communities cannot obtain. The treatise subsequently will posit that the key to unifying humanity or eradicating chaos is deferential awe for the true Father and God of all. In view of Jupiter’s apparently impious actions, however, neither the title “Best and Greatest” nor the designation “Father” befit him since the Roman god not only commits “virtual parricide” against his father, but he also is a disingenuous philanderer intent on having coitus with both males and females (including human wives)—some of whom Jupiter impregnates.[1] Lactantius thereby attempts to unmask the professed divinity of Jupiter. He conatively divests Rome’s fatherly patron of the honorific appellation “Best and Greatest” by enumerating in detail his sordid affairs and notable but finite theogonic development.[2] Lactantius finally appeals to the theory of euhemerism in order that Jupiter’s non-divine status might be exposed thoroughly. He argues that Jupiter was once a man, whom some Romans mistakenly deified. In any event, the apologist is convinced that Jupiter does not merit the soubriquet Father. That designation belongs exclusively to the holy God-Creator of the cosmos.

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[1] DI 1.10.11-14.

[2] Ibid. 1.11.1-17. Appealing to the consensus omnium, indicating Stoic influence, Arnobius of Sicca reasons similarly: “For by the unanimous judgment of all, and by the common consent of the human race, the omnipotent God is regarded as having never been born, as having never been brought forth to new light, and as not having begun to exist at any time or century. For He Himself is the source of all things, the Father of ages and of seasons. For they do not exist of themselves, but from His everlasting perpetuity, they move on in unbroken and ever endless flow. Yet Jupiter indeed, as you allege, has both father and mother, grandfathers, grandmothers, and brothers: now lately conceived in the womb of his mother, being completely formed and perfected in ten months, he burst with vital sensations into light unknown to him before. If, then, this is so, how can Jupiter be God supreme, when it is evident that He is everlasting, and the former is represented by you as having had a natal day, and as having uttered a mournful cry, through terror at the strange scene?” (Adversus Nationes 1.34)

Origen and the Eternal Generation of the Son

There is some debate to what extent Origen affirms God’s paternity. Does he teach the eternal generation doctrine? In what sense is God Father in Origenian thought? Granted, the teaching of the Alexandrian is not wholly clear in this respect. But Hall’s comment seems judicious (mutatis mutandis) when he delineates the teaching of Origen as follows: “God was however always Father; he could not change from one condition (not-Father) to another (Father). So the Son exists in God’s timeless eternity.”[1] The Alexandrian theologian evidently affirms the eternal generation of the Son in view of the sentential locution ouk hn hoti ouk hn (“There was not when he was not”) that occurs in his literary corpus.[2] Therefore, Father ostensibly “does not as for Justin imply an act or event. For Origen the Father constantly begets the Son by what modern theologians call ‘eternal generation.’”[3] Nonetheless, Origen’s account implies that the Son is not intrinsically God (autotheos), but God by derivation only (Commentary on the Gospel of John 2.2).[4] That is, he is not “self-sufficiently” God.[5] Only the Father is autotheos in Origen’s theological scheme; the Son is God in a strictly predicative manner. The Son (Origen believes) is “less than the Father.”[6] But to what extent is the Father greater than the Son in the Alexandrian’s system?

Hall indicates that Origen possibly balances his alleged subordinationism by means of the eternal generation doctrine, which would mean that his subordinationism is not ontological in nature.[7] On the other hand, William J. Hill observes: “Still, eternal generation [in Origen] does not of itself give divine status because Origen views all spiritual beings, both what he calls theoi and human souls, as eternal.”[8] Similarly, Brown laments Origen’s problematic approach to Christology and the Trinity since “he also taught the preexistence of individual human souls and spoke of those who are in Christ as eternally begotten.”[9] However, this speculation, argues Brown, does not diminish Origen’s contribution to the church regarding how one may speak about the tres personae. Nevertheless, the historian acknowledges that while Origen’s eternal generation doctrine, “countered the assertion that the Son must be later than the Father,” it “did not entirely throw off the assumptions of earlier Christian thinkers that the Son is subordinate to the Father” and possibly not fully divine.[10] Studer likewise concludes that Origen “does not succeed in ruling out subordinationism.”[11] He points to the Alexandrian’s belief that there are hierarchical grades in deity with the Son being one of the Seraphim or angels in Isaiah’s vision of YHWH’s glory (Peri Archon 1.3.4).[12] If Origen’s doctrine of God or Christ is characterized by subordinationism, however, one wonders to what extent he subordinates the Son to the Father.

Certain scholars attempt to resolve the difficulties in Origen’s schema by positing the Son’s subordination to the Father in an economic sense. However, Origen’s extant writings suggest that he himself may have inconsistently formulated his Christology during his lifetime.[13] It is possible that Origen viewed the Son as ontologically subordinate to the Father.[14] Moreover, another factor adding to the aporetic tendencies of this Christology is Origen’s use of the term “creature” (ktisma) for the Son.[15] This usage has generated many discussions in Origen studies, discussions that have not led to wholly satisfactory conclusions.

The first systematic theologian evidently derives ktisma from Proverbs 8:22-25 (LXX).[16] Neoplatonism may also influence what seems to be an idiosyncratic utilization of ktisma.[17] Crouzel in fact believes that “creation” (ktisiv) for Origen applies to “everything that comes from God.”[18] Along with Prestige and Wiles, he notes the fluid synonymity that existed between the Greek words for generate (gennaw) and create (ginomai) prior to Nicea.[19] Hence, there appears to be no genuine conflict between Origen’s supposed affirmation of the eternal generation doctrine and his employment of “creature.” Yet, although the Father putatively generates the Son timelessly in the thought of Origen, this pre-Nicene clearly adheres to the notion that there are grades of being in the divine. In the estimation of Bulgakov, Origen does not master ontological subordinationism “with reference to the mutual relations of the hypostases, with reference to their equal dignity and divinity.”[20] Even if Origen did posit a timeless or eternal generation for the Son, he also argued that other “created” rational spirits (logoi) are eternal.[21] Ultimately, if Father is a metaphor for Christianity’s first systematic theologian, it is a rather curious trope.

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[1] Hall, Doctrine and Practice, 105.

[2] See Crouzel, Origen, 186; Widdicombe, Fatherhood of God, 68. Peri Archon 1.2.9 and 4.4.1; Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans 1.5 (PG 14); Homily on Jeremiah 9.4. However, Crouzel observes that Origen’s use of aion or aiwniov are not clear (187).

[3] Hall, Doctrine and Practice, 105. Cf. Homily in Jeremiah 9.4; Peri Archon 1.2.2 and 4.4.28.

[4] Studer, Trinity and Incarnation, 85.

[5] Hall, Doctrine and Practice, 106.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Ibid. Compare Contra Celsum 8.15, however.

[8] W. J. Hill, Three-Personed God, 39. Granted, Origen attributes divinity to the Son. However, he makes a curious statement in Commentary on John 2.2 regarding the Son’s maintenance of his divinity through uninterrupted contemplation of the Father.

[9] Brown, Heresies, 90. Cf. Daniélou, Origen, 256; Ehrman, Lost Christianities, 155.

[10] Heresies, 91.

[11] Trinity and Incarnation, 85.

[12] Ibid. Cf. Fortman, Triune God, 57.

[13] Brown, Heresies, 91. Compare Peri Archon 1.3.7 with Commentary on John 13.25; 25.152.

[14] Ehrman, Lost Christianities, 155.

[15] Widdicombe (Fatherhood of God, 89) insists that Origen “almost certainly called the Son a ktisma in the original text of De Principiis [Peri Archon].” Nevertheless, he states that the sense of ktisma in Origen when applied to the Son is not clear (Ibid). See Peri Archon 4.4.1. Cf. Pelikan, The Christian Tradition, 1:; Prestige, God in Patristic Thought,.

[16] Hill, Three-Personed God, 39.

[17] Frend, Rise of Christianity, 377. Cf. A.H. Armstrong, “The Plotinian Doctrine of nouv in Patristic Theology,” Vigiliae Christianae vol 8.4 (1954): 234-238.

[18] Origen, 186. Cf. Peri Archon 1.2.10.

[19] Maurice Wiles, “Eternal Generation,” JTS 12 (1961): 284-291; G. L. Prestige, God in Patristic Thought, 37-54.

[20] The Comforter, 20. Wiles similarly concludes: “The idea of eternal generation as it stands in Origen’s scheme of thought as a whole does not really have any effective anti-subordinationist significance at all” (“Eternal Generation,” 288).

[21] R. A. Norris Jr., God and World in Early Christian Theology, 150-152.

Rhetoric: Insight on the Training of Lactantius

Rhetoric

Initially, the Greek term rhetor denotes a “public speaker.”[1] Classical writers apply the morpheme to judges, politicians, legal advocates (in the papyri) and the terminology later describes professors who teach others the art of elocutionary speech.[2]

Cole describes rhetoric (in part) as “the influencing and swaying of the mind through words”.[3] It constitutes a techne or art of public discourse.[4] In classical terms, rhetoric is the science of persuasive speaking or writing.[5] Aristotle himself defines this particular techne in terms of the employment of available means for the sake of persuasion as well as discerning “persuasive facts” in each case. Therefore, it seems probable that from a diachronic perspective, one can speak legitimately of rhetoric as “the written word attempting to do the work of the spoken word.”[6] Unfortunately, those who practiced the art of rhetoric in its primal manifestations lent an air of suspicion to the trade.[7] Hence, rhetoric continued to be a pejorative signifier until modernity.

In spite of the morpheme’s negative connotations, grammar and rhetoric became distinctive or stable elements of Greco-Roman education. Ancient professors of rhetoric usually delivered or read model speeches to their pupils.[8] Moreover, prospective rhetores were taught speech structure as well as how to vary the style or subject matter of formal discourse.[9] Additionally, those studying rhetoric learned the five venerable canons of well-formed speech, namely, invention, disposition, elocution, action, and memoria (expand). Pupils thus were obligated to construct periods (periodoi) in accordance with strict rules, then only quote or cite what could be demonstrated from constructed texts.[10] The outcome of this extensive training (idealistically) was the ability to speak ex tempore.

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[1] Acharnians 38, 680. The extant documents of ancient Greece leads one to believe that rhetoric “bears every indication of being a Platonic invention.”[1] The term does not appear before the Gorgias (Cole 2; Kennedy in Rhetoric Handbook, 3). See Plato, Gorgias 453a, where the philosopher refers to rhetoric as “the artificer of persuasion” (Cole 2).

[2] LSJ: 1570.

[3] See Phaedrus 261a7-8.

[4] Kennedy, 3.

[5] Cf. Aristotle’s Rhetorica 1.2 1355b and 1.2.1356-57.

[6] Cole 1.

[7] Ibid. 159.

[8] Hatch, Influence of Greek Ideas on Christianity, 30.

[9] Hatch, ibid.

[10] Hatch, Influence of Greek Ideas, 30.

Lactantius on the Son's Deity

Lactantius asserts that there is a sense in which Christ is motherless and fatherless. The Son, so that he might resemble the Father in all respects, was generated “motherless” in his preexistence since God generated him without the assistance of a feminine consort. Furthermore, Lactantius holds that God produced the Son by means of his spirit.[1] He accordingly believes that Christ is fatherless in that the Virgin Mary bore him sans a male parent: “He had a spiritual father in God, and just as God was father of his spirit without a mother, so a virgin was mother of his body without a father.”[2]

In view of Christ’s unique generative circumstances, Lactantius confesses that the Son is simultaneously God and man (simul deus et homo).[3] He supports his belief in the Son’s divinity by appealing to such texts as Psalms 45:6-7, which Lactantius interprets to mean that Christ is God, in some sense of the word.[4] In a manner comparable to Tertullian (Adversus Praxean 13.3) and other pre-Nicenes,[5]Lactantius evidently construes the Greek/Latin syntax of this biblical psalm as vocatival, believing that it exemplifies the nominative of address case. Regardless of how one construes the grammar of Psalms 45:6-7, it seems certain that Lactantius does not regard the construction in Psalms as a subject nominative, although the LXX allows for either reading.[6] Nevertheless, in what sense is Christ God, according to Lactantius? Does the apologist profess the Son is fully God—that he exemplifies all divine-constituting properties?

Once Lactantius sets forth his explanation of the Son’s mission and nature, it becomes apparent that his use of the proper noun “God” as a title designating Christ probably should be understood in a mitigated sense. For the rhetorician asserts that Christ is “God in the spirit,” drawing a conceptual parallel between the Son and Apollo.[7] By fulfilling his God-given mission, the Son demonstrated faith and trust in Almighty God: “he taught that there is one God and that he alone is to be worshipped, and he never said that he was God himself: he would not have kept faith if after being sent to get rid of gods and to assert a single God he had introduced another one besides.”[8] The Son did not come proclaiming his own Godhood. In fact, Lactantius reasons that if the Son had arrived declaring or publicly making known his own divinity, then Christ would have breached strict monotheism. Moreover, Lactantius believes that Christ would not have demonstrated faith in the one true God of Scripture, if he had focused on his own divine nature.[9] Nevertheless, because the Son proved himself “so faithful and because he took nothing at all for himself, in order to fulfill the instructions of the one who sent him, so he received the dignity of eternal priesthood, the honour of supreme kingship, the power to judge and the name of God.”[10] Hence, it seems that the Son progressively becomes God in the writings of Lactantius.

First, the apologist teaches that the Logos does not acquire the epithet “Son” until he shows himself trustworthy in the face of extreme duress.[11] Then Lactantius states that God rewards the Son’s faithfulness vis-à-vis his earthly mission by granting him the eternal priesthood, supreme kingship, the power of judgment and the name of God. It therefore appears that the Son does not truly become Deus for Lactantius until he assumes flesh, instructs others about the one God, suffers, dies and experiences a resurrection at the Father’s hands.[12] The term “God” (Deus) only applies to Christ in a fuller sense, Lactantius believes, after he fulfills his divine commission.[13] Yet, the Son evidently is subordinate to the Father per essentiam before and subsequent to his ascension.[14] At least, this is how Lactantius ostensibly interprets the Scriptural witness concerning the Son’s person and work.

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[1] Ibid. 4.13.5.

[2] Ibid. 4.25.4. Lactantius employs the rhetorical device of chiasm here. Moreover, he answers the question, Cur Deus homo, though it is debatable what he means by “God” (Deus).

[3] DI 4.13.6; 4.25.5-6.

[4] DI 4.13.9.

[5] See Biblica Patristica.

[6] Brooke F. Westcott, The Epistle to the Hebrews (London: 1889), 25-26. Metzger, George Buchanan and Lane.

[7] DI 4.13.11-13.

[8] DI 4.14.18-20.

[9] Ibid.

[10] DI 4.14.20.

[11] Ibid.

[12] Ibid. See Alvin Lamson, The Church of the First Three Centuries, 237. Lamson points to DI 4.25.4, wherein Lactantius professes that the Son is “mediam inter deum et hominem substantiam gerens.” He concludes that in Lactantian thought, the Father is supreme in relation to the Son, who is ontologically subordinate to the Father (cf. DI 4.25.1).

[13] See Martin Werner, The Formation of Christian Dogma.

[14] DI 2.8.7.

Sir Fred Hoyle and the Limits of Scientific Inquiry

Greetings all,

I came across this quote in a book by
William Lane Craig and Paul Copan.
Sir Fred Hoyle is discussing the
steady state theory when he writes:

"To many people this thought process [i.e. that the
universe did not have a beginning] seems highly
satisfactory because a 'something' outside physics can
then be introduced at T = O. By a semantic manuever,
the word 'something' is then replaced by 'god," except
that the first letter becomes a capital, God, in order
to warn us that we must not carry the inquiry any
further."

But Hoyle has carried the inquiry further. Note,
however, that certain physicists have chosen to accept
the steady state model rather than allow "God" as a
possible cause of the universe. They reasoned that
"something" outside physics cannot be part of proper
scientific discourse; even if one has to posit a
universe with no temporal beginning.

Best wishes,
Edgar