Together for the Gospel: Article 6

Together for the Gospel (T4G) has drafted a document consisting of eighteen affirmations and denials, which they have produced as an attempt to demarcate gospel churches from imposter churches.

Churches and professing believers in Christ who reject any one of the eighteen articles in this document should be regarded as suspicious at best, and false teachers at worst; as far as T4G, their associates and supporters are concerned.

Articles 1-4 wrestle with epistemology and the doctrine of revelation. Articles 5-6 consider the doctrine of God. Christology and soteriology are the subject in articles 7-13. Articles 14-17 deal with ecclesiology. The document concludes with a discussion of eschatology.

Article 6- Affirmation:

We affirm that the doctrine of the Trinity is a Christian essential, bearing witness to the ontological reality of the one true God in three divine persons (Father, Son and Holy Spirit) each of the same substance and perfections.

Article 6- Denial:

We deny the claim that the Trinity is not an essential doctrine or that the Trinity can be understood in merely economic or functional categories.    

We will begin where T4G and their adversaries are in full agreement. Jesus of Nazareth was the incarnate Word and Wisdom of God, the image and glory of the invisible God. Those who penned the New Testament were attempting to identify the person and mission of Jesus with the God of Israel (in one way or another). Neither of these declarations are being disputed by anyone that I am aware of.

What are the differences? There are five interrelated items of disagreement: the metaphysics of Nicaea, the relationship of Nicene Christology to the Christology of the New Testament, the contemporary relevance of Nicene metaphysics, Christological diversity (or lack thereof) in the New Testament and how Christological diversity in the New Testament should be interpreted.

Briefly, some important background information. 

The council of Nicaea thought about and spoke of the God of Israel from within a Greek philosophical frame of reference. The Nicene Creed was the result of the council’s efforts to explain the relationship of Jesus to Israel’s God in a way which also answered the dominant philosophical questions and concerns of their own time. As a result of this, an Aristotelian metaphysic of substance was introduced into orthodox thought, which altered the trajectory of Christological discussion that had been sparked within the apostolic church and which continued in the New Testament.

The substance metaphysics of Nicaea had shifted the conversation from an interest in who God was (as in personal identity) to the pursuit of what God was (ontologically speaking). These are very different issues. While it is indeed unfortunate that the church has (in large measure) canonized the metaphysics of Nicaea, we should not immediately fault the church fathers for their appropriation of substance metaphysics. It was perhaps a necessary precondition which enabled them to describe the relationship of Jesus to the God of Israel within their cultural and historical context (not that they were self-consciously aware of what they were doing).

Now, on with the disagreements. First, many people recognize that the questions concerning Jesus’ divine nature, essence and substance, which were supposedly resolved at Nicaea, are not even discussed within the New Testament. Though the authors of the New Testament were most certainly interested in explicating the relationship of Jesus to the God of Israel, they were indifferent to the complications that were generated as a consequence of the metaphysical context of the early, post-apostolic Christological disputes. Thus it is put forward that it is totally possible for someone to reject the metaphysics of Nicaea altogether, and yet still remain a Trinitarian in a New Testament sense.    

This brings us to our second item. It is often argued that the Nicene emphasis on the what (as opposed to the who) of God resulted in the production of a significantly higher Christology than can be found within the pages of the New Testament. In fact, Aristotelian substance metaphysics probably made variation from the Christology of the New Testament inevitable. The canonization of Nicene metaphysics is often regarded as a problem primarily because of the tendency in biblical interpretation to read the high Christology (and thus the metaphysics) of Nicaea into the New Testament, as if it were the theological presupposition of the New Testament, as opposed to the outcome of the Church’s later theological and philosophical reflections upon it (in a very different cultural context).

This leads us to the third item. While the Nicene Creed was perhaps one (if not the most) accurate way for the church to speak about the relationship of Jesus to Israel’s God within the Greek philosophical context of the church fathers, there are people who are persuaded that this is not the only way that the church should talk about this relationship, nor that it is the most suitable way to speak of it in our day.

For the most part, people today are not inclined to think in the philosophical categories which gave structure to the Nicene Creed. Actually, most people (Christian or not) probably have no idea what is meant by terms like divine nature, essence and substance when they are used in the creed. In light of these things, there are Christians who believe that it would be appropriate to find new language (or possibly just return to the New Testament emphasis upon personal identity) that might better communicate the relationship of Jesus to God in our own context. 

Onward to the fourth item. Biblical scholars frequently make the observation that there is an assortment of Christologies (ranging from higher to lower, though none as high as that of Nicaea) in the New Testament. Although every New Testament writing seeks to explain the relationship of Jesus to the God of Israel, they do so in different ways; some books identifying the person and mission of Jesus with God on a much more intimate level than others (i.e. the Revelation has a much higher Christology than Mark’s Gospel).

The fifth and final item has to do with how the church is to interpret the Christological diversity found within the New Testament. Here we once again run into all of the questions regarding hermeneutics that we have met with multiple times in our examination of this document (i.e. should we leave conflicting Christologies in tension, or should we read all of them in the light of one particular Christology?).   

What do you think? Do you agree with T4G’s definition of the gospel church on this point? Why or why not? Does disagreement over this particular issue merit exclusion or separation from other churches and/or believers?

The Resistance Factor of Coequality

Is it at all possible to overcome the imperial thrust behind the councils of Nicaea and Chalcedon? Rieger is quite sure that it is, and that it would be a legitimate theological maneuver to attempt to accomplish this feat, even in spite of the imperial presuppositions of those men who originally developed these Christological creeds. Has there not always been something about Christianity which has resisted the status quo of the empire? As a witness to this fact, one could look to the second century philosopher Celsus who considered Christianity to have been a rebellious voice and a dangerous threat to the gods and values of the Roman empire. Also, Christianity’s demonstration of solidarity with the poor and its corresponding call to remember the sufferings of our fellow human beings (in light of the fact that God Himself had chosen to share in human suffering) was something that distinguished the faith from the empire; even from Rome’s general concern for civic welfare. In what ways might these creeds themselves provide a pathway forward which could allow for a resistance against imperial homogenization?

We might begin by considering the fact that orthodoxy did not develop in a controlled and linear fashion. We could acknowledge that its development was full of tension and ambivalence, and that it even went through stages of metamorphosis. It was not as if the early church began as a thoroughly unified project which eventually branched out into a multiplicity of diversified groups over an extended period of time. The Christian religion has always been a varied complexity which would not easily suffer conformity to the mold of the empire which sought to implement and enforce uniformity. Diversity remained even in the years succeeding the allegedly ecumenical and authoritative councils. The emperor Constantine himself (who suggested the term homoousia) by the end of his life had actually backtracked and readmitted Arius to the church. Even the bishop Athanasius (the most staunch defender of homoousia) eventually broadened his viewpoint to allow for the perspective of (the majority) homoiousios position. The tacit uniformity of the Christology of the post-Constantinian church was no less than a fabrication which served as foundational support for an imperial push toward unity. The ancient church’s utter lack of conformity to the conclusions of the councils validates contemporary challenges to the imagined homogeneity of orthodoxy, and (consequently) justifies resistance to hierarchical imperial power structures that depend significantly upon that unity.

Nicaea and Chalcedon might also exhibit the potential for resistance in the way that they set limits upon subordinationist and hierarchical frameworks of divinity which reflect the top-to-bottom power structures of the empire. Nicaea rejected Arius’ subordinationist Christology in favor of a full equality within the Godhead. Chalcedon resisted some of the more extreme hierarchical inclinations of the empire through its declaration of the Son’s coequality with humanity. When considered in tandem, Nicaea and Chalcedon generate a definite solidarity between God and humanity that actually resists top-down organization in favor of equality. Although the councils themselves do not construct any alternatives to the empire’s descending hierarchy, they do leave room for us to consider other non-subordinationist options. The lack of precision with regard to the definition of the homoousia that exists between Father-Son-humanity could also provide us with an opportunity for resistance. Taking this deficiency into account, it seems reasonable for us to allow the cruciform life and death of Jesus to fill the void left by the absence of a positive definition in the creeds themselves. This move will no doubt have serious implications for the way in which we construct future models of divinity (calling into question concepts such as impassibility, immutability, and omnipotence). Plus, it will indeed provide us with a redefinition of power which will resist all false notions advocated by the empire.

The Emperor’s Coequality

It is common for theologians today to view both Nicaea and Chalcedon as having had an anti-hierarchical or possibly even an egalitarian bent. If the Father and the Son are truthfully homoousios, then there can be no hierarchy between the first and the second persons of the Trinity. Likewise, if Jesus’ humanity and our humanity are actually homoousios, then it might be implied that there is an equality of sorts between Jesus and the rest of humanity. This sounds fabulous, but those who would make such assertions are actually failing to notice the way in which these early creedal formulations would have been understood and utilized within the ancient Roman imperial context in which they were constructed. It is Rieger’s position that there were several presuppositions with regard to power and authority at work that went unquestioned during these debates. These assumptions were held in common by both orthodox and heretic alike, and were likely shaped by their everyday experience of Roman imperial hierarchical politics, including the authoritative strategy and performance of the emperor’s themselves.

The central concern for Christology during this period of history has been described as the need to find a way to speak of the relation between the divine and human in Christ in such a way so as to allow for compassionate condescension, without implying a breakdown of power. All parties involved in the debates assumed an inherent opposition and hierarchy between God and humanity, which they sought to preserve in their Christological formulations. Divine power was set both above and in opposition to all alternative human forms and sources of power. As the ultimate and infallible authority of God, divine power was far less susceptible to the challenge and criticism that normally accompanied all other human claims to power. This divine authority (far removed from all human authority) was then reassigned to those persons in positions of imperial political and ecclesial power. Thus divine power was (notably) mediated through the emperor and through the church, each of which (for all practical purposes) was granted a quasi divine status within the empire. Interestingly enough, both Nicaea and Chalcedon were constructed in an era when the social segregation between those who were in power and those who were not was becoming increasingly exaggerated. These councils no doubt served to strengthen the authoritative muscle of the political and ecclesial establishment due to their unquestioning approval of the oppressive imperial status quo.

The creeds themselves eventually began to be utilized as a means by which power and authority could be achieved and sustained in the imperial church. Athanasius himself appealed to Nicaea as a vital source of divine authority. He was the very first to refer to the council as ecumenical and authoritative, to refer to the bishops as the fathers, and to identify the council with the apostolic tradition. Those who are even slightly familiar with pre-Nicaean Christology or the way in which this supposed “consensus” was reached at Nicaea will recognize that Athanasius had a rather active imagination. Regardless though, Athanasius based his claim to the Alexandrian bishopric upon his allegiance to the imperial council, and he sought to maintain his election to said office by any means necessary; up to and including violent force! This leads us to another disappointing aspect of these creeds. Men the likes of Athanasius and Cyril were able to resort to oppression and violence in the name of preserving and protecting the truth, without having either their divine status of authority or their orthodox reputations called into question. This is because the theology of both creeds not only allowed for, but actually endorsed this type of behavior through its assumed acceptance of hierarchy and its top-down organization of power which mirrored that of the empire. Sadly, these methods have oft been labeled providential, and have even been considered an aid in the spread of the gospel.

The Creeds of the Empire

The extension of the Christian religion generally followed the history of the Roman empire. It is certainly a difficult pill for many a Christian theologian to swallow, knowing that the final doctrinal pronouncements made by the early church and stated within the creeds were inseparably related to and pretty much indistinguishable from the political and economic concerns of the Roman empire. Even the Christological language of the one essence, which subsequently defined the relationships between the Father and the Son, and between the Son and humanity (Nicaea and Chalcedon) was itself introduced and enforced by the emperor Constantine. The emperor no doubt held significant sway over the affairs of the church (both economic and theological), and likewise, the bishops (and eventually the popes) had plenty of opportunity to influence the politics and economics of the empire. Simply stated, those doctrinal formulations which would eventually come to be defined within the church as the orthodox position corresponded with, furthered the agenda of, and were enforced by the Roman empire.

Although the connection between Christ and the empire stretches back to times prior to the rule of Constantine (even back to Paul as we have recently observed) it is usually his reign which marks (for many) the inauguration of the imperial perversion of the church. It was Constantine’s conviction that the Christian God had granted him a military victory over his former co-emperor Licinius which resulted in his becoming the sole emperor of Rome. The council of Nicaea was planned just after this military victory and it was supposed to be a celebration of the liberation of Christianity and of the unified empire under Christ. Thus Arianism was probably not the main reason and was definitely not the only reason for which the Nicaean council had convened, though the controversy no doubt would have been viewed as a threat to the newly established imperial unity. The council was funded entirely by Constantine (including travel expenses for the bishops). He also set the agenda for the council and chaired the meetings. The majority of the bishops probably held to some sort of semi-Arianism. There was also a minority representation of the full-blown Arian position in attendance. Constantine suggested the term (homoousia) which eventually won out, even though this position represented none of the parties involved. The fact that the overwhelming majority of the bishops signed off on homoousia reveals just how influential the emperor was in the determination of orthodoxy.

Imperial unity was the chief motivating factor behind the convening of both Nicaea and Chalcedon, and both councils bear witness to the ever-increasing integration of ecclesial and imperial authority. Cultural cohesion was sought at Nicaea through the institution of a common date for Easter for both east and west. The conclusions of Chalcedon are usually viewed as the middle-road between Pope Leo’s emphasis on the two natures of Christ, and Cyril of Alexandria’s monistic tendencies. At Chalcedon, the hierarchy of the church was strengthened when the monasteries were placed under the control of the bishops, in order to blunt the anarchical spirit of the monks. Also, those whom the church had declared heretics were physically banished from the empire. Bishops were involved at the highest levels of imperial governance, and often maintained their status by means of oppression, violence, and bribery. Cyril of Alexandria actually shut down the churches of the rival Novations and appropriated their wealth for his own cause, sent mobs to plunder the Jewish quarters, had the politically influential non-Christian philosopher Hypatia stoned to death, and utilized the church’s vast monetary resources to ensure the support of emperor Theodosius II and hence the acceptance of Cyril’s Christology at the council of Ephesus in 431. The fact of the matter is that politics and economics played an uncomfortably vital role in the formulation of early orthodox Christology.