A Loud Absence: T.F. Torrance in the Light of Stephen Holmes (Part Three): Stories Theologians Tell
In our last post we claimed that Torrance—whatever high
merits his concept of the co-quality (homoousion)
of Father, Son, and Spirit has for systematic theology—has a tendency to
idealize some of the muddy waters of the historical process by retroactively
utilizing a later criterion to judge earlier formulation. More precisely: Torrance absolutizes the
far-end of a historical process of development by using a fully-orbed concept of homoousion, tracing a historical lineage or “hall of heroes” that Torrance in turn utilizes
for his own theological expression. As Morwenna Ludlow puts it: “Torrance constructs a line of what one
might call Trinitarian heroes extending from the earliest discussions of the
idea of a triune God via Athanasius and Gregory of Nazianzus to Calvin, and
thence to Barth. He thus … supports his
argument ... by placing Nazianzen in a tradition or family of theological
antecedents and descendants of whom Torrance approves.”[1]
In pointing this out, it might be misunderstood that we mean
that we believe Torrance to be uniquely guilty here, or perhaps uniquely
culpable. By no means. As Wolfhart Pannenberg puts it, this
phenomenon is unavoidable: “Historical research in dogmas and theology has
shown that in every developmental phase of Christian thought, from early
Christianity onwards, theological reflection has never left the content of the
tradition undisturbed. It has always
altered it, even in situations in which theologians want to say the same thing
as the tradition.”
[2]
In fact, both among historical and systematic theologians,
Torrance is in good company. Aloys
Grillmeier, in the first volume of his magisterial Christ in Christian Tradition has been critiqued—despite its
brilliance and encyclopedic learning—for elevating the Council of Chalcedon in
a way that Torrance similarly elevates the homoousion
as a guiding historical criterion.
Thus, for Grillmeier, the history leading up to Chalcedon is parsed as a
series of false-starts, dead-ends, or proto-Chalcedonian logic.[3]
To do so is again from a standpoint of systematic theology plausible. But from a historical standpoint it not only skews the history under investigation by foisting our own later concerns on to earlier periods, it can easily as such mis-categorize thinkers. It is like the oft-heard fallacy that Origen “taught subordinationism.” Now, it is certainly true that Origen’s thought ends up in subordinationism (that is, that in some sense the Son is ontologically lesser than the Father, and the Spirit even more so). But to describe him in this way mistakes his own intentions and concerns for our categories that have been created after-the-fact. Origen, probably to the surprise of many, was attempting to argue for a supremely strong ontological continuity between Father and Son.[4] That he failed to achieve as much can really only be asserted from a post-Nicene vantage point.
To do so is again from a standpoint of systematic theology plausible. But from a historical standpoint it not only skews the history under investigation by foisting our own later concerns on to earlier periods, it can easily as such mis-categorize thinkers. It is like the oft-heard fallacy that Origen “taught subordinationism.” Now, it is certainly true that Origen’s thought ends up in subordinationism (that is, that in some sense the Son is ontologically lesser than the Father, and the Spirit even more so). But to describe him in this way mistakes his own intentions and concerns for our categories that have been created after-the-fact. Origen, probably to the surprise of many, was attempting to argue for a supremely strong ontological continuity between Father and Son.[4] That he failed to achieve as much can really only be asserted from a post-Nicene vantage point.
Among systematic theologians, Torrance is likewise in good
company. Daniel Castelo observes regarding (for example) the “suffering God” debate that:
“Historical narrations of the shift [to a passible God] have ensued with the
purposes of establishing some sort of continuity with the received tradition,
but interestingly enough the assessment of the change has occurred post factum
to divine passibility’s establishment as the biblical and conceptual norm.” In other words, “the impulse to affirm ‘a
suffering God’ was often applied to,
rather than generated from, the
inquiry itself, thereby skewing the ensuing historical findings and
reconstructions.”[5] Historiographically speaking, the concept of
a suffering God is a solution in search of a problem. Paul Gavrilyuk has recently concluded much
the same: “Patristic theology did not face a choice between the apathetic deity
of the philosophers and the suffering God of the Bible, because these views of
God represent questionable scholarly constructs, rather than the actual
theological options available to the theologians of late antiquity.”[6]
This has occurred as well among explicitly Trinitarian
scholarship (as will become important in the next post). Aristotle Papanikolaou points out that both
Vladimir Lossky and John Zizioulas—two important Eastern Orthodox figures in
the revitalization of the Trinity in the 20th century—“illustrate
the realism of divine-human communion, [by] construct[ing] a history of Eastern
and Western patristic thought.”[7] And though Papanikolaou is a very sympathetic
interpreter, he notes “these histories … are often too simplistic and texts are
often interpreted in such a way as to be forced into particular trajectories.”[8]
Indeed, as we shall see in a moment, these histories—which
often laud the Eastern path over the Western—themselves owe quite a bit to
emerging self-critical Western
theological historiography contemporary to their times of writing.[9] But they are not alone, of course. Colin Gunton largely follows an unstable
mixture of Zizioulas, Torrance, and Jenson in blaming the West—and principally
Augustine—for its woes of “Western” trends towards monism and (a typically
Torrance-ian) attribution of “dualism.”[10] Catherine LaCugna blames the Council of
Nicaea (!) and post-Nicene theology for continuously divorcing the
interconnection of theologia (God-in-Himself)
from oikonomia (God-for-us).[11] Eberhard Jüngel and Philip Clayton each in
their own way narrate what they take to be the collapse of divine simplicity in
order to find marginalized voices to construct an alternative concept.[12] Likewise, Ludlow writes of John Milbank as a
sort of anti-Torrance engaged in an equal-yet-opposite endeavor:
The dramatis personae of Milbank’s genealogies (Gregory of Nyssa, Augustine, pseudo-Dionysius, Eckhart) are rather different from those of Torrance (Athanasius, Gregory Nazianzus, Calvin) but the underlying method is somewhat similar. Like Torrance, Milbank’s method has the tendency to create not only theological heroes, but genealogies of villains which are connected by some fundamental theological or philosophical loyalty (compare Torrance’s ‘Platonist’ line of Origen, Basil, and Gregory of Nyssa, with Milbank’s ‘Aristotelian’ villains, such as Duns Scotus and Descartes). … [T]he structure of such genealogies is to give structure to Christian history, to delineate the contours of the development of Christian doctrine: they often presuppose a period of decline in Christian theology beyond which one has to stretch to a better age.[13]
Thus to peer at Torrance’s work with a critical eye to some
bits of his historiography is not to single him out. It is indeed to take an especially
interesting—because especially nuanced—case to understand how systematic
theological decisions can affect historical reading. Thus in the next post we turn specifically to
how Torrance’s prioritization of the homoousion
may or may not affect his reading of the tradition. This is not done in the presupposition that once this exercise is complete, history will stand clear and bare before us. Historical reconstructions are inevitably contestable. Yet this does not mean that accuracy is impossible to aim at, merely that there is no "once for all" goal line. Historical investigation, like morning prayer, is an activity that must be repeated again and again to plunge in to its riches, and expose its missteps.
[1] Morwenna Ludlow, Gregory of Nyssa: Ancient and Postmodern (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2007), 33.
[2] Wolfhart
Pannenberg, Systematic Theology vol.1
trans. Geoffery Bromiley (Grand Rapids: Eerdman’s Publishing, 1991), 23.
[3]
For one among many instances of this critique, cf. Sarah Coakley, “Does Kenosis Rest on a Mistake?: Three
Kenotic Models in Patristic Exegesis,” in C. Stephen Evans, ed. Exploring Kenotic Christology: The Self-Emptying
of God (Oxford: Oxford University, 2006).
[4]
Jon Robertson, Christ as Mediator: The
Theologies of Eusebius of Caesarea, Marcellus of Ancyra, and Athanasius of
Alexandria (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 11-37.
[5] Daniel Castelo, The Apathetic God: Exploring the Contemporary Relevance of Divine
Impassibility (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2009), 10.
[6] Gavrilyuk, Suffering
of the Impassible God: The Dialectics of Patristic Thought (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2006), 172.
[7]
Aristotle Papanikolaou, Being With God:
Trinity, Apophaticism, and Divine-Human Communion (Notre Dame: Notre Dame
University Press, 2006), 10-11.
[8] Ibid., 154-155.
[9] Sarah Coakley, “Eastern ‘Mystical
Theology’ or Western ‘Nouvelle Theologie,’? On the Comparative Reception of Dionysius
the Areopagite in Lossky and de Lubac,” in George E. Demacopolous and Aristotle
Papanikolau, eds., Orthodox Constructions
of the West (New York: Fordham University, 2013), 125-142.; cf.
130-131: “The notion of the West that
Lossky then puts forth as the unacceptable alternative to his Eastern view, is—
I would suggest— equally revealing of his own Western, Parisian context of the
1930s and ’40s. For it is hard, again, to read this anti-Western polemic
without at least some echoes of the emerging Catholic resistance in France to
rigidly rationalistic readings of Thomas and to the myth of a pure nature that
could exercise itself in the pre-revelatory building of philosophical
foundations for faith.” Cf. Paul
Gavrilyuk, “The Reception of Dionysius in 20th Century Eastern
Orthodoxy,” Modern Theology 24:4
(October, 2008): 707-724; cf. 714: “It appears that Eastern Orthodox
theologians are fighting the ‘misguided West’ with ammunition borrowed from the
enemy.”
[10] Colin Gunton, “Augustine, The Trinity,
and the Theological Crisis of the West,” Scottish
Journal of Theology, vol.43 (1990): 33-58.
Reprinted in Colin Gunton, The
Promise of Trinitarian Theology 2nd ed. (New York: T&T
Clark) 30-56.
[11] Catherine LaCugna, God For Us: The Trinity and the Christian Life (San Francisco:
Harper San Francisco, 1991), 1-205.
[12] Philip Clayton, The Problem of God in Modern Thought (Grand Rapids: Eerdman’s Publishing, 2000);
Eberhard Jüngel, God as the Mystery of
the World: On the Foundations of the Theology of the Crucified One in the
Dispute Between Theism and Atheism. Trans. Darrel L. Guder (Grand Rapids:
Eerdman’s Publishing, 1983). Cf. Paul DeHart, Beyond the Necessary God: Trinitarian Faith and Philosophy in the
Thought of Eberhard Jüngel (Atlanta: American Academy of Religion, 1999),
e.g. 12: “for Jüngel, the philosophical and theological conception of God’s
simplicity is centrally implicated in the collapse of traditional theistic
models in post-Cartesian metaphysics.”
[13]
Ludlow, Gregory of Nyssa, 270-271.



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