It’s probably not a coincidence that two of the main responses arguing against my views on God’s impassibility have come from OT scholars: John Anderson in the comments there, and now Joseph Kelly in a new post.
In a way both of them make one of my points for me – even if it is a rather in-house Anglican point. (Non-Anglicans can skip this paragraph if they want.) Impassibility is not an obvious conclusion to come to from reading the Scriptures, and certainly not a perspicuous one. It is why I think the first article is an uncomfortable one for those who wish to equate Reformation Anglicanism with modern evangelicalism or simply “being biblical”. But is this, in fact, one of the areas where we need to reform the Reformers in the light of re-reading Scripture? There are those who will say yes – in which case they agree with me that the 39 articles can’t be treated as a definitive confession for all time. There are those who will say no – in which case they agree with me that we can’t simply settle arguments by “the Bible says”, but by a more complex set of interactions between past and present readings of the Scriptures.
However, back to the particular case in hand – divine impassibility – and Joseph’s arguments. He offers a very fair statement of my case, and characterises it as the “God behind the curtain”, drawing on the story of the Wizard of Oz.
When Dorothy and her three companions trepidatiously approached the Wizard of Oz, they were surprised to find that he was really nothing more than the man behind the curtain. This might be the best way of speaking of what Doug and so many others are after in their use of such language. They want the God behind the curtain! Only in our case, the floating translucent green head is who hides behind the curtain, and this represents God’s “perfection in eternity.” The cute little gray-headed man is who stands on the flaming platform at the end of the grand emerald hallway, and he represents the anthropomorphic portrayal of God in Scripture.
I see his point, but I don’t think this is what I’m saying. I think I’m saying that the overall logic of reading Scripture with the tradition is to say that the anthropomorphisms reflect the experience of our relationship with God, but that the impassible transcendence of God represents the fruit of reflecting on those experiences so as to understand better what is being said.
Now I think there might be one way of putting it that might allow us to both hold on to the traditional doctrine, and give more force to some of Scripture’s anthropomorphisms. Does the following make any sense? God cannot be acted on by any external force or human reaction in such a way that God’s active and creative love towards humankind can be turned aside. God cannot be affected in any way by any thing or person that will make God other than God is. God is the only one who can freely constrain his own choices. God is active and not passive, cause and not effect. That’s inadequate, but sort of gets towards what I’m driving at.
It’s why I admitted my inadequacy as a systematician – not because I think systematics is superior – but because they will have the vocabulary, tools and tradition of thinking to articulate this in ways that are less clumsy. I don’t think they’re (as Joseph puts it) “notoriously wrong-headed”. But the scripture student and the systematician stand in a degree of mutual questioning. The former asks “is the voice of this text adequately heard in your system?” and the latter asks “is your reading of this text a faithful one?” It’s a problem for me that in reflecting on the articles, I’m straying outside my comfort zone, but that’s probably a good thing to do from time to time.
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I’ve posted my response. This doesn’t have to be an endless back and forth between us; you did, however, offer some good clarifications that I wanted to interact with. There are a lot of questions that I think need to be answered to justify the type of move you are making. I am skeptical that the questions can be answered satisfactorily.
I also forgot to mention that I agree with your statement, “But the scripture student and the systematician stand in a degree of mutual questioning.” I am largely persuaded that the relationship between biblical and systematic theology is one of “mutual questioning.”
(I’m more-or-less cross posting this on Joseph’s reply post.)
Thanks for the continuing dialogue, which is certainly helping me think why I feel the idea worth defending. Can I offer one clarification? I see the point of your “behind the curtain” analogy – but I don’t accept it. What I am trying to say is that the logic of the whole scripture story means that when we get to its climax (this is a Christian reading) we see its earlier episodes in a new light.
So, take your example about Noah. You can see similar logic in the story of Lot, and the question of how many righteous men might be enough to save Sodom. But Paul’s answer is to agree with the psalmist that there is no righteous man, except of course that God did not withhold his only Son, but gave him up for us all. That is, God takes the possibility that human disobedience could deflect him from his purpose out of human hands, and as later (or post) Pauline thinking has it, he intended this from before the foundation of the world. Therefore the story as it seemed to Noah and Abraham is shown by later revelation and reflection to need re-interpreting. The possibility that God could actually have wiped out all living things is negated by reflection on the experience of Christ as the revelation of God.
Now, I’m aware I’ve painted that with a very broad brush, but I hope it at least illustrates why I don’t think this is a behind the curtain argument, but a growing into understanding one. Does that make some sense?
Doug, I do think I see better now what you are saying. Let me say that I still think you are guilty of attempting to find a God behind the curtain, but only because I do not agree that you have a substantial argument for dismissing the type of theology being expressed in the Old Testament. (I disagree that Pauline/deutero-Pauline “before the foundation of the world” statements invite us to reinterpret the anthropomorphic/suffering God of the OT. But this is an entirely different discussion.)
Moreover, while I agree that New Testament revelation can cause us to return to the Old Testament and have our interpretive lens adjusted (i.e. Saul versus Paul’s reading of the Old Testament), I would find it problematic if the re-interpretation results in an un-reading of the biblical text. Essentially you are saying: “Because of Paul, we can now say that the God of the Old Testament who appears passible is actually impassible.” I would be interested in what John has to say about this, but it sounds to me like this is neo-Marcionism. If I am correct, and if you are trying to make impassibility more palatable/intelligible to a wider audience, a neo-Marcion interpretation is not likely to help you accomplish that.
Moreover, I believe such reasoning does not do justice to the fact that these texts revealing God as passible are indeed divine revelation. What are they supposedly revealing if they are not revealing God? Are they revealing, as you said, “the experience of our relationship with God?” I have yet to understand why God would have me believe my relationship with him is a dynamic relationship with a passible deity when in reality I am immutably related to an impassible deity.
As Moltmann demonstrates for us, the passible God is confirmed by the cross, not reinterpreted by it. I think it a serious error if we let our understanding of Paul completely reverse this revelation. This would pit Paul against Paul and against Hebrews. “He is the image of the invisible God, the exact imprint of his character.” “In him the fullness of deity dwells in bodily form.” These are the planer passages; thus your reading of “from the foundation of the world” should probably be revised.
Joseph, you say “these texts revealing God as passible are indeed divine revelation”. That may get at a significant part of the problem, since I don’t accept your premise. I think that we affirm that scripture as a whole is revelatory, and even then the relationship between text and revelation is complex. That’s obviously a subject for a separate discussion.
In the terms you use here, how do you answer the question that God would have readers of Exodus believe that he is a God who punishes the children for their father’s sins even to the third and fourth generation, yet have readers of Ezekiel believe that he doesn’t.
Peter Enns, in his book Inspiration and Incarnation: Evangelicals and the Problem of the Old Testament suggests “Ezekiel was quite aware of the second commandment. In fact, I suggest that he was consciously addressing it. his problem, however, is not with the second commandment itself but with those who appeal to it in a mechanical manner, perhaps in an attempt to excuse themselves from the consequences if their actions. Ezekiel’s response, perhaps also to be read, along with Chronicles, in the contest of national rebuilding, is, ‘Don’t hide behind the law. You are still responsible for keeping it.’ . . . [A]ny attempt to interpret the law is necessarily an interaction between the law itself and the circumstances to which it is being applied. Ezekiel’s words are instructive to us precisely because they are so extreme. To address his own context, where the second commandment was being abused, the prophet speaks in a way that relativizes the latter of that commandment” (89).
I have not put a great deal of study into this particular issue myself, but I think Enns’ argument is tenable. And assuming this or a similar argument, I believe we can maintain that both Exodus and Ezekiel reveal the heart of God.
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