The wise man is not self-mastered but moderate, nor does the fool lack self-mastery but moderation. For the one takes pleasure in what is honourable, while the other is not troubled by shameful things. Lack of self-mastery, therefore, is the mark of a sophistic soul having reason but not the ability to stand by the things that it has correctly discerned (Plutarch, On Moral Virtue 446c).
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Friday, October 12, 2012
χρηστοῦ μέν ἐστιν ἡγεμόνος συγγνώμη, φιλοσόφου δὲ κακοῦ μὴ πικρὸν εἶναι (Dio Chrysostom, Alex. 32.18).
Clemency is the mark of a good ruler, but lack of severity is the mark of a bad philosopher.Sorry, Plato. If Dio is right, either a good king will be a bad philosopher or a bad king will be a good philosopher.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Now I know why I’m such a bad poet
Monday, July 19, 2010
Anselm’s theory of satisfaction set an important precedent for later conceptions of the Incarnation and Atonement in Western Christendom, but it is neither the only nor the earliest response to the question posed by the Incarnation. According to Irenaeus of Lyons, Jesus Christ is “the only true and steadfast teacher, the Word of God … [who] became what we are in order to draw us to himself” (Against Heresies 5, Introduction). Clement of Alexandria says that “the Word of God became human so that you may learn from a human how a human may become god” (Exhortation to the Greeks 1.8.4). Similar sayings abound in the Fathers.
The theme of teaching and discipleship provides a helpful way to think about theosis. For many of the Eastern Fathers the Incarnation teaches not only that human nature can be deified but that deification is ultimately what God intended for human beings. I looked at some of the key scriptures supporting this view in my last post, but more can be said about how the Fathers read the Bible through the lens of the Incarnation. This Christological way of to reading is especially remarkable in certain early interpretations of Genesis 1, where the acts of creation are understood not merely as past events but also as anticipating the future perfection of God’s creatures. “God does not judge the beauty of His work by the charm of the eyes,” says Saint Basil the Great,
and He does not form the same idea of beauty that we do. What He esteems beautiful is that which presents in its perfection all the fitness of art, and that which tends to the usefulness of its end. He, then, who proposed to Himself a manifest design in His works, approved each one of them, as fulfilling its end in accordance with His creative purpose (Homilies on the Six Days of Creation 3.10)In the Greek text of Basil’s Bible, God does not see that what he has created is merely ‘good’ but that it is literally ‘beautiful’. Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder, says Basil, and what God beholds is the final perfection of his creatures. Elsewhere Basil describes creation as “both a school and a training ground where the souls of human beings should be taught, and a home for beings destined to be born and to die” (Homilies on the Six Days of Creation 1.5).
If this world in which we live is both a school and a training ground, then who is our Instructor? Ignatius of Antioch celebrates Jesus as the one person who perfectly demonstrates the integrity of words and deeds thought to be a key virtue of successful teachers. For Ignatius, Jesus is the example for all who desire to teach:
It is good to teach, if the one who speaks also acts. There was one Teacher who spoke and it happened. And the things he has done while remaining silent are worthy of the Father.2 The one who truly possesses the word of Jesus is able even to hear his silence (hesychia), so that he may be perfect, so that he may act through his speech and be understood through his silence. Nothing escapes the notice of the Lord, but even the things we hide are near to him. Therefore we should do everything as though he were dwelling in us, that we may be his temples and he our God in us, as in fact he is, and he will appear before our eyes. For which reasons let us love him justly (To the Ephesians 15.1–3).
The goal of Orthodox hesychasts (those who practice what is called the prayer of the heart) is not merely to know God abstractly, through doctrinal or theological propositions, but truly to possess the word of Jesus and to hear His silence, to unify speech and action so perfectly that they pray unceasingly (1 Thess 5:17) and even without words (Rom 8:26–27), and finally to see the deifying light of the Transfiguration.
Despite the title of Norman Russell’s indispensable survey of The Doctrine of Deification in the Greek Patristic Tradition.2.
On the speech and silence of Jesus in this passage, see my forthcoming essay: “Hearing God’s Silence: Ignatius of Antioch and the Music of the Spheres” in ed. Ellen Aitken and John Fossey, Late Antique Crossroads in the Levant (full publication information to follow).
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Part 1: Vocabulary
Contemporary Orthodox theologians sometimes pay more attention to the doctrinal foundations of theosis than to its biblical roots. This is less a symptom of neglect than a consequence of the fact that the Fathers did not neglect the Bible in their doctrinal formulations. Neither feeling the need nor the desire to reinvent the wheel, contemporary theologians usually head straight for what may well be the most memorable and oft-repeated of Patristic sayings: “God became man so that man might become god.” Athanasius of Alexandria is the favorite authority for this saying (On the Incarnation 54.3), but one also finds nods to Irenaeus of Lyons and Clement of Alexandria.
Irenaus, Clement, and Athanasius link “becoming god” with the prior event of God becoming human—the Incarnation. I’ll have more to say about this connection later, but for now it suffices to say that these Fathers provide the simplest conceptual definition of theosis—“becoming god.” They do not use the actual word theosis.
In fact, neither the word theosis nor any of the technical words and phrases typically used to express the concept have direct equivalents in the Bible.1 The closest biblical parallel to the idea of participation in God is 2 Peter’s reference to becoming sharers of the divine nature through the glory and excellence of Jesus (2 Pet 1:4),2 but the Fathers rarely cite this passage.3 The most frequently cited text in both modern and patristic discussions of becoming god is Psalm 82:6 (81:6 in the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Hebrew scriptures). Now a single verse is admittedly a weak foundation for an entire tradition, even by the standards of patristic exegesis, so let’s look more closely at the psalm in its historical, canonical, and traditional contexts.
In its original historical setting Psalm 82 may have had in view one of several possible scenarios:
- The assembly of gods (Psalm 82:1 TNIV) could represent a council of divine beings who are truly gods. Such scenes are common in Ancient Near Eastern literature, less so in the Hebrew Bible. In this case the Psalm would envision a council of gods who are essentially equals but administratively subordinate to the presiding God of Israel.
- The assembly of gods could represent a council of angelic beings like the “sons of God” mentioned in the book of Job (1:6; 2:1; 38:7). In this case they would not be considered gods in the same sense as the God of Israel, being both essentially and administratively subordinate to the God of Israel.
- The assembly of gods could represent a council of earthly authorities who bear the title ‘gods’ by virtue of their official status as earthly counterparts to heavenly rulers.
Whoever or whatever these ‘gods’ are, the God of Israel appears to hold them directly responsible for the plight of the poor and oppressed (verses 2–5), a situation that will become the cause of their downfall. Their exalted status will be revoked and they will die like human beings (verses 6–7). The psalmist speaks in his own voice in the final verse, pleading for God to execute this judgment.
In a tradition that probably dates to the Second Temple period,4 Psalm 82:6 had come to be read by some Jews as referring either to the giving of the Law at Sinai or to the exalted status of the first humans. Verse 7 was interpreted as referring either to the incident involving the Golden Calf or to Adam’s transgression. Verse 1, on the other hand, was taken to be an account of the coming judgment, where the assembly of ‘gods’ could refer either to an angelic council or to the community of saved persons.
When understood in this sense as envisioning the future community of saved persons, the image of the assembly of gods in Psalm 82:1 (TNIV) implies the restoration in the end of something that was somehow lost in the beginning: a filial relationship with God. A few short lines thus transform the biblical theme of fall and restoration into a drama of apocalyptic dimensions. It is no wonder that aspects of this tradition show up in sectarian literature like 11QMelchizedek (from the Dead Sea Scrolls) and the Gospel of John.
In the Gospel of John, Jesus quotes the first half of Psalm 82:6 during a dispute with some disgruntled Judeans who had accused him both of blasphemy and of making himself out to be God (John 10:33–34). Interestingly enough, he introduces the quotation as though it belongs to the Law, a curious error if “Law” refers strictly to the five books of Moses (Genesis–Deuteronomy). Either he is using the term “Law” rather loosely, or, what seems more likely in view of the apocalyptic tradition sketched above, his introduction of the quotation as coming from the Law already reflects a particular reading of the Psalm as a commentary on the Law.
The gist of Jesus’ argument is that he ought not be accused of blasphemy for claiming the title “Son of God” when scripture indicates that those to whom the word of God came (in Eden? at Sinai?) were not only called “sons of the Most High” (in the portion of the psalm that he does not quote), but even ‘gods’. His remark that “the scripture cannot be broken” anticipates the objection that his quotation does not actually come from the Law. In effect, he preempts such an objection by reminding his opponents of what is presumably their own view: that the Law and the Psalms belong to a unitary whole.
The emphasis on Jesus’ works in the framing verses cleverly plays on an ancient commonplace assumption that one’s deeds should match one’s words (John 10:32; 37–38). Jesus basically tells his opponents that his works confirm his claim to the title “Son of God,” but readers familiar with the Gospel of John may detect the irony in this response. John does not indicate that Jesus’ claim to divine sonship is legitimate merely because the word of God came to him and is proven by his works. John signals from the beginning that Jesus is the word and that the word is God (John 1:1), a claim that Jesus echoes in the statement “I and the Father are one” (John 10:30).
The irony of Jesus’ remarks in John 10 escapes his opponents, who lack the wider perspective afforded to the Gospel’s readers. In their rush to bring charges against him, his opponents not only fail to see that the word of God has come to them, they also fail to perceive the apocalyptic implication of this event: the way is now open for them become ‘gods’ and “sons of the Most High.”
Readers steeped in the theology of the creeds may fail, in similar fashion, to observe that Jesus’ claim to divine sonship in John 10 is not exclusive. Even if he is the only begotten Son of God, all those to whom he comes can be made ‘gods’ and sons of the Most High by the power of his word (compare the emphasis on divine speech in Psalm 82:6 to the near-rhythmic outbursts of divine speech in Genesis 1).
I expect that informed critics of the Orthodox theosis tradition would not disagree with this conclusion, but they might remain suspicious of the role accorded to human effort in the tradition. I'll have more to say about such criticisms later. For now my point is to indicate that Psalm 82:6 is much more than an ad hoc prooftext. If we maintain that the patristic concept of “becoming god” arose organically from exegesis of Psalm 82 then we ought also appreciate the observation that at least one Jewish tradition—in which the earliest Christians (and arguably Jesus himself) participated—already read Psalm 82 as concise and authoritative commentary on the biblical theme of fall and restoration.
Next up: Theosis and Orthodox Doctrine.
Including Athanasius’ preferred term, theopoiesis.2.
No less an evangelical luminary than J.I. Packer once suggested that Peter’s amanuensis (scribe) was prone to embellishment—an easy but problematic dismissal of 2 Peter 1:4 (“‘Outside the Church There is No Salvation’: An Orthodox and Evangelical Exchange,” discussion sponsored by the Society for the Study of Eastern Orthodoxy and Evangelicalism, St. Paul’s Orthodox Church, Irvine, CA, 1999).3.
Important exceptions include the Alexandrians—Origen, Athanasius, and Cyril—and, much later, the Athonite monk and Archbishop of Thessaloniki, Gregory Palamas (Norman Russell, Fellow Workers With God: Orthodox Thinking on Theosis, pp. 65–69).4.
Carl Mosser, “The Earliest Patristic Interpretations of Psalm 82, Jewish Antecedents, and the Origin of Christian Deification,” Journal of Theological Studies 56.1 (2005): 30–73. Mosser has provided a link to his article here. Non-specialists may find it a tough slog, but worth the effort.