Nielsen’s Nook

Nielsen’s Nook
Nielsen’s Nook
Contemplative, reflective, and irenic we pray.
Print Print

We are no longer the bloggers who say “Dox” but the bloggers who say Miko-Michail-Mike’s Book Blog. The transliterated Greek apparently has gotten to Mike and having thrown off the glory of his old book review blog, he has - as a butterfly leaping forth from the caterpillar’s cocoon - remade the good thing even better. Now his blog sits as the risen and exalted blog, bearing an altogether new kind of glory; yet still recognizable in its authorship. It is just, well, simply eschatological.

If you haven’t visited my friend Mike Vendsel’s Book Blog you really should. It’s that good.

Print Print

[ This relates to The Originist Crisis of the Sixth Century, (chapter 3) in John Meyendorff's Christ in Eastern Christian Thought. This is not the Synopsis of the chapter, but a precursor. ]

  • Cosmology: Creation is co-eternal with God.Â
  • Anthropology: Like Plato, Origen believed in the pre-existence of souls.
  • Christology: Christ is not the λόγος (logos). Rather Christ is a soul that inhabited a human body (Platonic influence). This is similar to the “assumed man” of Nestorius that did not distinguish between eternal generation of the Son and creation in time.
  • Eschatology: There is not a bodily resurrection; rather, Origen held to ἀποκατάστασις (apokatastasis), which is the belief that we are freed from our bodies and returned to our original immaterial state. Under the rubric of ἀποκατάστασις even Satan will be restored.

Print Print

Mark 12:41-44 (NA26) 41 Καὶ καθίσας κατέναντι τοῦ γαζοφυλακίου á¼Î¸ÎµÏŽÏει πῶς ὠὄχλος βάλλει χαλκὸν εἰς τὸ γαζοφυλάκιον. καὶ πολλοὶ πλοÏσιοι ἔβαλλον πολλά· 42 καὶ á¼Î»Î¸Î¿á¿¦ÏƒÎ± μία χήÏα πτωχὴ ἔβαλεν λεπτὰ δÏο, á½… á¼ÏƒÏ„ιν κοδÏάντης. 43 καὶ Ï€Ïοσκαλεσάμενος τοὺς μαθητὰς αá½Ï„οῦ εἶπεν αá½Ï„οῖς· ἀμὴν λέγω ὑμῖν ὅτι ἡ χήÏα αὕτη ἡ πτωχὴ πλεῖον πάντων ἔβαλεν τῶν βαλλόντων εἰς τὸ γαζοφυλάκιον· 44 πάντες Î³á½°Ï á¼Îº τοῦ πεÏισσεÏοντος αá½Ï„οῖς ἔβαλον, αὕτη δὲ á¼Îº τῆς ὑστεÏήσεως αá½Ï„ῆς πάντα ὅσα εἶχεν ἔβαλεν ὅλον τὸν βίον αá½Ï„ῆς.

41 And after he sat down across from the offering box, he was observing how the crowd cast copper money into the offering box. And many wealthy persons were casting much. 42 So when one poor widow came, she cast two leptas (which is equivalent to a Roman quadrans). 43 Then after Jesus called his disciples along side him, he said to them, “Truly I say to you that the widow - this poor one - cast into the offering box more than all of those who are casting. 44 For they all out of their abundance cast; but she out of her poverty cast in all, as much as she had - her whole life.” (writer’s translation)

Have you ever heard someone say, “Jesus talks to us about money more than any other subject”? In a sense that is very true and rightly so, for wealth can become a terrible snare for us. However, I am not so sure that the only lesson in the above passage is ‘give all your money to the Temple.’

Luke testifies to Jesus saying, “Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the Kingdom of God.” Matthew writes, “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.” I think Jesus is interested in teaching us greater and more painful lessons than simply ‘do you give enough money to the Temple?’. Money, wealth and poverty are the symbols, much like words, through which Jesus teaches us about the state of our souls before Him. We are as paupers who stand on street corners proclaiming our wealth, only demonstrating a sad psychosis.

The widow gave her whole life to the Temple. That is the lesson to Christ’s disciples then and now. The Temple has always represented the place of God’s presence; hence, giving to the Temple was to give to God. The word βίος (bios) is a word that does in fact mean life and here would seem to be used as a double entendre, having a double meaning. The second sense of the word is that of a person’s subsistence, related to how the support themselves. Yes, the widow gave all of her subsistence to the Temple; however, Jesus is using this living picture to teach us to give our whole lives, all that we have and are to him.

Forget your checkbook for a second. How much of ourselves do we withhold from Christ who bought us in our totality? How much of our minds do we block off for our own purposes and pleasures? We parade ourselves as knowing what true pleasure is, and all the while we have shunned Him, that is the True Pleasure who is Christ. We have settled for little when Christ has given much. Lord have mercy on us, your people, that our appetites might be ravenous for Christ and Him alone. Amen.

3 We put no stumbling block in anyone’s path, so that our ministry will not be discredited. 4 Rather, as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: in great endurance; in troubles, hardships and distresses; 5 in beatings, imprisonments and riots; in hard work, sleepless nights and hunger; 6 in purity, understanding, patience and kindness; in the Holy Spirit and in sincere love; 7 in truthful speech and in the power of God; with weapons of righteousness in the right hand and in the left; 8 through glory and dishonor, bad report and good report; genuine, yet regarded as impostors; 9 known, yet regarded as unknown; dying, and yet we live on; beaten, and yet not killed; 10 sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, and yet possessing everything. (2 Cor 6:3-10 NIV, emphasis mine)

Print Print

[ This is the second of eleven chapters out of John Meyendorff's Christ in Eastern Christian Thought ]

Synopsis of the Chapter
Unfortunately, the new distinction between φÏσις and ὑπόστασις that Chalcedon introduced proved to be a catalyst for further misunderstandings, which can be categorized into four groups:

  1. Dyophysites: These theologians remained faithful to Antiochene Christology and considered Chalcedon a post humous victory for Theodore of Mopsuestia - and a partial disavowal of Cyril of Alexandria.
  2. Monophysites: Considered Chalcedon a return to Nestorianism. Rejecting the council they retained Cyril’s formulation “one single incarnate nature of the God-Word” which undoubtedly consisted of “two natures” (εκ δÏο φÏσεων).
  3. Neo-Chalcedonians: This group saw the council as not disavowing Cyril but merely condemned Eutyches. By saying “one hypostasis” Chalcedon was seen as upholding Cyril’s argument against Nestorius.
  4. Leontiusites: None of the above groups were able to rectify the terminological problems created by the Chalcedonian definition. In the first half of the sixth century, armed with Origenist metaphysics, Leontius of Byzantium (et al.) forged ahead with a creative effort towards a solution.

“The period between Chalcedon (451) and the beginning of Justian’s reign (527) was dominated by a fruitless debate between the Monophysites and the strict Dyophysites.” In the Chalcedonian corner was Theodoret, Bishop of Cyrus, who, as a friend of Nestorius, openly opposed not only Eutyches but also Cyril. “His refutations of the Twelve Anathematisms and the Council of Ephesus were remembered by everyone” (p. 31). He rejected any notion of theopaschism, believing that it was only Christ’s human body, not his soul or divinity, that was resurrected from the dead. Significantly, Theodoret identified the single hypostasis defined by Chalcedon with the concept of a single Ï€Ïόσωπον (prosopon, face). The choosing to ignore the way Chalcedon used hypostasis to explain prosopon caused further confusion.

Patriarch Gennadius of Constantinople (458-471), in his opposition to Cyril’s Anathematisms, translated essential terms in such away that strict Cyrillians could not accept (p. 33). Gennadius avoided the term Θεοτόκος (theotokos) and ὑπόστασις (hypostatic union). His successors to the patriarchal see, namely Acacius, were forced under political duress to later betray Chalcedon.

The political duress gave way to the theopaschite controversies of the first years of the sixth century under Patriarch Macedonius (495-511), who was a rigid Chalcedonian. The Chalcedonism of the Acoemetae, the main adversaries of Monophysitism during the first part of the sixth century, was also an Antiochene interpretation of Chalcedon (i.e., contra Cyrillian interpretations). Pope John II would later decree the Acoemetae to be Nestorians (p 35-6).

So we see the rise of the Antiochene school, with Theodoret at the helm, over against its chief competition that had been in the Alexandrian school headed by Cyril. Monophysite theologians saw Nestorianism in these Antiochene articulations and consequently viewed the Council of Chalcedon as Monophysite, “in spite of the fact that the Council anathematized Nestorius and exalted the memory of Cyril” (p 36). The surest of Nestorianism for these Monophysites was the denial that ‘the incarnate Word suffered in the flesh.’ So theopaschism became the litmus test.

Ironically, the Chalcedonians continued to identify φÏσις (fusis) and ὑπόστασις (hypostasis) which were two terms between which the Council had made definitive distinction. Joseph Lebon’s Monophysitism identified Severus’ doctrine of incarnation as essentially Cyrillian Christology. What must be kept clear is that Cyrillian Christology does not imply Eutychianism. “The debate between Antioch and Alexandria begun at the time of the Council of Ephesus was merely continuing as if the councils of Ephesus and Chalcedon had not taken place” (p 37).

Timothy Aelurus gives us the simple logic of the Monophysites of the time: “if there are two natures, there are also necessarily two persons; but if there are two persons, there are also two Christs” (p 38). Flowing from this premise, the Monophysites argued that if Christ’s humanity was only such ‘by economy’ and not ‘by nature’ then his humanity was transitory and imaginary and thus resulted in Nestorianism. We can see this in the following quote from Philoxenus:

The Word was not changed into flesh when he took a body from it, and the flesh was not transformed into the Word’s nature when it was united to it.

Philoxenus considers Christ fully human and although his position has an Apollonarian origin, he refuses to interpret it in this sense and asserts against Eutyches that Christ is consubstantial with us (humanity).

This seems to beg the question, “How can we say that Christ was in possession of his own body, soul and spirit?” Severus answers by saying that Christ’s single nature possesses all the natural qualities (ἰδίοώματα) of humanity (p. 40). He argues that before the incarnation the Word was a simple nature; however, after the incarnation the Logos became composite in regard to the flesh (σÏνθετος Ï€Ïός τήν σάÏκα). For Severus Christ is without a doubt made “out of two natures” (á¼Îº δÏο φÏσεων); however, the union of the two natures results in a transforming into one nature. Severus, out of faithfulness to Cyril, refused to say “two natures after the union [of the incarnation]” because Cyril never said it, consequently leading him to a Monophysite rigor that Cyril never had (p 42).

Following Aristotle, Severus’ one nature had only one á¼Î½Î­Ïγεια (energy, activity). “This is why the formula in the Tome of Leo on the active properties of each nature — agit utraque form cum alterius communione quod proprium est — taken over by the Chalcedonian definition, ‘each nature keeping its own way of being,’ was for the Monophysites most difficult to admit. In their eyes two energies meant two beings; thus, the hypostatic union reduced to an illusion (p 42). In response Severus made a distinction between á¼Î½Î­Ïγεια and á¼Î½Î­Ïγηθέντα (works), referring to what is done by the activity.

In this way, Severus was attempting to reconcile the Chalcedonian and Monophysite positions. However, in denying that Christ’s human existence was in terms of φÏσις (nature) or á¼Î½Î­Ïγεια (activity) he begged the question: Is “a human nature without human energy a true human nature?”

The Antiochene interpretation of ὑπόστασις as a mere synonym of Ï€Ïόσωπον (face) did not demonstrate for the Monophysites that Chalcedon had remained true to Cyril of Alexandria. The hypostasis, according to the Council, was the ‘point where the particularities of the two natures meet’ and consequently the Council did not say that the hypostasis of the union of Christ’s two natures was the pre-existent hypostasis of the Logos.

Chalcedonians responded by invoking the Trinitarian terminology of the Cappadocians. Both Chalcedonian and Severian orthodoxy proclaimed that Christ was consubstantial to the Father in his divinity and consubstantial to humanity in his human nature (p 45). However, the invocation of the Cappadocian formulations for the Trinity proved problematic. Severus would argue that in identifying essence and nature in Christology would presuppose that the whole Trinity had become incarnate!

At the end of the day, a specifically Byzantine theology provided the Church with the elements of a genuine solution, consisting in a new awareness of the hypostatic union. “This re-interpretation of Chalcedon played in relationship to the council a role similar in all aspects to the role the Cappadocian Fathers played in relationship to Nicaea” (p 46).

Print Print

PhotoIconic Updated

For those of you who admire photography or at least honest attempts at it be they ever so amateur, PhotoIconic, my photoblog, has been updated with photos from my trip to Notre Dame (to hear my wife give a paper on the place for a qualified fideism at a philosophy conference on Mystery). I have also added a few pics from Turtle Creek in Dallas, St. Petersburg, Russia and Kirov, Russia.

Print Print

A quote from another book I am reading lately:

But consider what would emerge if the clergy accepted as their modest role the voicing of scripture material, without excessive accommodating — that is, without accommodation to political liberalism or political reactionism [conservatism?], without accommodation to religious orthodoxy or critical urbaneness, but only uttered the voice of the text boldly, as it seems to present itself, even through it does not seem to connect to anything….What is yearned for among us is not a new doctrine or new morality, but new world, new self, new future.1

What I like about Brueggemann is that he makes me think and imagine, often because his books can make me as uncomfortable as they encourage me. On the one hand, he is really directing people, namely pastors and priests, back to scripture as it is, apart from our hopes for what we think it should be. Letting Scripture speak on its own terms is in my view the best way to learn about God’s imagination. On the other hand, he has set up for us dichotomies that I am not sure follow. In other words, it does not seem to me that “religious orthodoxy” or critical prowess (which I take to be a reference to proficiency in Textual Criticism) are necessarily opposed to letting the text speak for itself.

If the Scriptures are in fact the articulation of the imagination of God, as it were, then it would seem that they, on their own terms, are concerned about both orthodoxy and orthopraxy. In this way, Church Tradition would seem to be entailed in this articulation of the supreme imagination. Further, it would appear that if the Scriptures are in fact the articulation in textual form of God’s revealed imagination then, of course, critical prowess is significant because we need to know what was in fact articulated.

However, if I understand the spirit of what Brueggemann is after, it is that in confusing the energies or effects of the divine imagination with its essence, we make the minor the major, missing the forest for the trees. Though the texts may “not seem to connect to anything”, I believe that Brueggemann is directing us towards that, with which they do, as a matter of fact, connect. It is not primarily that the scriptures give us magnificent doctrines, but that the proclaim a new world order of which we may be a part in Christ. The scriptures point us in fact to the very essence of that for which we long. We behold Christ who is the essence of morality, the essence of beauty, the essence of what it is to be made new. We behold in the scriptures the articulation of the One who has made himself know to us existentially; the incarnate imagination of God, who has caused us in authentic angst to cry out to Him, “I am yours, save me!”

__________
1 Brueggemann, Walter. Texts Under Negotiation: The Bible and Postmodern Imagination. (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), pp 20-21, 25.