Monday, December 1, 2025

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Friday, September 6, 2024

The Theological Discourse on Grace: A Personal and Intellectual Journey

My engagement with the theological concept of grace had an inauspicious beginning, which paradoxically may have been a manifestation of grace itself. In my undergraduate theological studies, I encountered a professor steeped in manual Thomism who propounded a dualistic anthropology. According to this view, grace was conceptualized as an extrinsic addition to human nature, resulting in a two-tiered understanding of humanity². While my knowledge of grace remains limited due to a subsequent avoidance of the topic, I distinctly recall my disagreement with this bifurcated anthropological perspective, primarily for two reasons.

Firstly, my exposure to ancestral traditions and the wisdom of indigenous peoples in Africa and beyond had convinced me of the inherent grace present in these cultures³. This conviction was further challenged by the introduction of Karl Rahner's theory of "anonymous Christians"⁴. While Rahner's theory was rooted in a generous understanding of God's universal offer of grace, its conclusion struck me as paternalistic. The implication that non-Christian religions required validation from Christianity seemed to negate the intrinsic value of diverse spiritual traditions⁵.

Secondly, the concept of grace as an external addition to human nature seemed incongruous with the notion of a loving and perfect deity. The Augustinian doctrine of original sin⁶, which posits a perfect creation marred by sin, appeared to contradict both scientific understandings of human evolution and the cosmologies of many traditional religions⁷. Consequently, I gravitated towards a more integrated understanding of human nature and grace, viewing them as inseparable or even identical realities⁸.

However, recent global events, particularly the Ukraine war, have challenged my optimistic anthropology. The deliberate acts of violence and the global escalation of conflict have prompted a reconsideration of the inherent goodness of humanity⁹. This cognitive dissonance is further exacerbated by the fact that many participants in these conflicts identify as Christians¹⁰.

In grappling with these contradictions, I am reminded of Belden Lane's observation that grace often manifests as a disruptive force, compelling us to confront our vulnerabilities and need for divine intervention¹¹. Grace is not an additional force but a disruptive one that has always been present deep within, challenging our egos while opening us up to embrace the cosmic immensity of the divine

For a comprehensive overview of manual Thomism, see Romanus Cessario, A Short History of Thomism(Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2005). ↩
This two-tiered anthropology is discussed in Henri de Lubac, Surnaturel: Études historiques (Paris: Aubier, 1946). ↩
For perspectives on grace in non-Western traditions, see Catherine Cornille, ed., Grace in the World: The Meeting of Spiritual Traditions (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2018). ↩
Karl Rahner, "Christianity and the Non-Christian Religions," in Theological Investigations, vol. 5 (London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1966), 115-134. ↩
For a critique of Rahner's theory, see Gavin D'Costa, The Meeting of Religions and the Trinity (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2000). ↩
Augustine, De natura et gratia, in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, First Series, Vol. 5, ed. Philip Schaff (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1887). ↩
On the challenges to the doctrine of original sin, see James F. Keenan, "Original Sin: How Does It Explain the Human Condition?" in The Oxford Handbook of Catholic Theology, ed. Lewis Ayres and Medi Ann Volpe (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2019). ↩
This integrated view resonates with Karl Rahner's concept of the "supernatural existential," as discussed in Foundations of Christian Faith (New York: Seabury Press, 1978). ↩
For reflections on evil and human nature in light of contemporary conflicts, see Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996). ↩
On the role of religion in modern conflicts, see R. Scott Appleby, The Ambivalence of the Sacred: Religion, Violence, and Reconciliation (Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2000). ↩
Belden C. Lane, The Solace of Fierce Landscapes: Exploring Desert and Mountain Spirituality (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 45. ↩

Sunday, December 17, 2023

Wednesday, September 20, 2023

The illustration is from Kimbwandènde Kia Bunseki Fu-Kiau, African Cosmology of the Bântu-Kôngo: Tying the Spiritual Knot : Principles of Life & Living (Athelia Henrietta Press, publishing in the name of Orunmila, 2001), 28.

The concept of the "V of Life" in Bantu cosmology
It is significant in reminding humanity of our collective
maturity. For this reason, it is a vital concept for the entire continent.
The "V of Life" stipulates that by
standing erect through the circle of life, humanity must recognize
the absolute wholeness of the cosmos. A fullness
of which s/he is part and helps to form.

Saturday, May 14, 2022

Justice and Fidelity to the Covenant

For a while, I have been struggling, and rightly so, to figure out in what way prophetic literature about justice differs from the Torah. A lot has been done in elucidating the distinctions at play between biblical prophecies and fully, partially, or non-existent Torah depending on the period and/or scholars under consideration. Despite efforts, one is always puzzled by the relationship between the authority of prophecy and the Covenant in the second temple period, leading to the beginning and sealing of the rabbinic institution.

During the period here in question, there are multiple factors under consideration. Even though the consensus is not fully reached about the closing date of the Jewish Bible canon, it is evident that the Torah was entirely formulated at this time. With the Torah well-articulated, it seemed that direct revelation was closed. “The pseudonymity of intertestamental apocalyptic suggests that claims of direct revelation were by that time no longer credible, and indeed the biblical canon includes no prophetic works ascribed to figures who lived later than Malachi.”[1]

It is no surprise the conclusion of the book of Malachi ( Malachi 3: 22-24) is considered by some scholars a conclusion provided for the closing of the book of the Twelve and not a conclusion to the book itself.[2] Whatever the case, those three verses seem to offer a great window into the prophecy of Malachi and the ‘absence’ of canonic prophecy in Israel after that.

“Be mindful of the teaching of my servant Moses, whom I have charged at Horeb with laws and rules for all Israel” (Malachi 3:22). Malachi clarifies that the Torah and its observance must be given center stage through this statement. As the introduction to Malachi’s prophecy in the Jewish Study Bible rightly puts it: “As a whole, the book is aimed at persuading its readers to follow the Torah of Moses, or at strengthening the resolve to continue to do so [...] The book presents a prophetic voice that ultimately asserts the superiority of the Torah over prophecy.”[3] Some prophets who acted as social critics accused the leaders and people of wrongfully applying the law. Through their prophecies, others seemed to indicate that they didn’t know the law, at least in its full articulation, or thought it to be unsatisfactory. However, Malachi is very cognizant of the law and its importance and thus positions himself to defend it. He is the lawyer of Yahweh, prosecuting Israel for its lack of keeping the Covenant. “In this regard, many scholars have noted that Malachi seems to employ the rhetoric of the legal court. Some have suggested that the disputations are in the form of the covenant ‘lawsuit’, or rib […].”[4]

For Malachi, all – Levitical (Malachi 2:4-8), Abrahamic (Malachi 2:10), Adamic (Malachi 2:14), and Mosaic (Malachi 3:1)[5] – covenants have been breached and require restoration. In Isaiah 1, the Lord refuses the sacrifices of Israel because they are offered by blood-stained hands, of people doing evil, engaged in injustice, and not upholding the right of the widow and the orphan ( Isaiah 1: 15-17).

“What need have I of all your sacrifices?” Says the Lord. “I am sated with burnt offerings of rams, and suet of fatlings, and blood of bulls; and I have no delight In lambs and he‑goats. That you come to appear before Me – who asked that of you? Trample my courts no more; bringing oblations is futile, incense is offensive to Me. New moon and sabbath, proclaiming of solemnities, assemblies with iniquity, I cannot abide” (Isaiah 1: 11-13).

But In Malachi, God asks that the sacrifices be offered rightly. The best sacrificial animal should be provided as demanded by the Levitical law (Leviticus 1:3; Leviticus 3:1). As far as the tithes are concerned, they should be given according to the law (Leviticus 27:30, Numbers 18:21, and Deuteronomy 14: 22-24).

You offer defiled food on My altar. But you ask, “how have we defiled You?” By saying, “The table of the Lord can be treated with scorn.” When you present a blind animal for sacrifice – it doesn’t matter! When you present a lame or sick one – it doesn’t matter! Just offer it to your governor: Will he accept you? Will he show you favor? – said the Lord of Hosts. And now implore the favor of God! Will He be gracious to us? This is what you have done – will He accept any of you? (Malachi 1:7- 9).

While justice in Isaiah seemed the priority over against cultic prescriptions, in Malachi, God’s justice will be for those who remain faithful to the law. They will be the vindicated ones on the day of the Lord (Malachi 3:19-21).

The prophet’s rejection of divorce reinforces the idea of God’s justice being bestowed on those who remain faithful to the Covenant. In Ezekiel 16, there is an excellent parable of the Lord’s love and marriage to Israel. Only for her to abandon him for a foreign lover, thus leaving Yahweh angry. The unfaithful wife has not kept the Covenant, yet Yahweh does not divorce her. Instead, he will atone for her sins and establish an everlasting Covenant with her ( Ezekiel 16: 60-63). The Covenant, symbolized by marriage in Ezekiel’s parable (see also Hosea 2), is undoubtedly the dominant concept in Malachi. It is so important to God that it cannot be revoked or broken by separation or divorce – for whatever reasons. Hence, Malachi’s statement: “I detest divorce – said the Lord, the God of Israel – covering oneself with lawlessness as with a garment – said the Lord of Hosts. So be careful of your life-breath and do not act treacherously” (Malachi 2: 13).

It is important to note that Malachi’s text on God’s hatred for divorce can also be read within the historical context of injustice done to older Jewish women being divorced by their husbands.

Taken in context, however, it appears that Malachi was addressing a situation in which wealthier Israelite men were divorcing their Israelite wives whom they had betrothed as young men (the “wife of your youth”) in order to marry younger Gentile women, either for reasons of physical attraction or socioeconomic gain. The prophet roundly condemns this injustice against women who have borne children and heirs for their husbands, only to be cast off when older. The biblical ideal, even in the Old Testament, was monogamous fidelity to the “wife of your youth,” as can be seen in the introduction to Proverbs (for example, Proverb 5: 1-23).[6]

Malachi focuses on justice through fidelity to scriptures, even read within the historical context. Justice requires men to be faithful to the wives of their youth and not just repudiate them simply because they are old. This is not a new rule; it has always been so. “For, I am the Lord I have not changed; and you are the children of Jacob – you have not ceased to be [...] Turn back to Me, and I will turn back to you – said the Lord of Hosts” (Malachi 3: 6-7).

As already suggested above, Malachi’s epilogue also seemed to have been significant in shaping the eschatological hopes of the Second Temple period.

The exhortation to ‘remember the law of my servant Moses’ during this period of waiting served to summarize the message of the twelve and, in a sense, the whole prophetic corpus, thus aligning it with the teachings of the Torah (Malachi 3:22[…]). In this way, the two divisions of the ancient Jewish canon, the Law and the Prophets, are read as complementary rather than competing. Diligent observance of the Mosaic law became the religious agenda for pious Jews up to the coming of the Messiah and remains the agenda for the observant branches of Judaism to this day.[7]

Instead of getting into the polemic among Jews sages about the presence or the absence of the holy spirit, or the Christian claim that Jews lost the prophecy because they lost the holy spirit, I would instead focus my attention on the traditions of continuity till the coming of prophet Elijah (Malachi 3: 23-24). These traditions assume that prophecy “still existed, but that leadership had been given to others. This is also the force of the famous chain of authority: ‘Moses received Torah, from Sinai and gave it to Joshua; Joshua gave it to the elders, and the elders gave it to the prophets, and the prophets gave it to the men of the Great Assembly.”[8] The great assembly here represents the assembly of Jewish religious leaders.

To lay the presence of the holy spirit upon the Great Assembly was also a good but democratic way to ensure a certain continuity and save institutional Judaism from messages of individual people claiming a direct connection with God. Now, justice is laid at the feet of an institution, embodying the holy spirit. “This is dramatically manifested in the famous story according to which God’s will was to be determined by neither miracles nor revelation, but by a vote, an approach to which divine endorsement is ascribed.”[9] And one would think that it is the best method for God to communicate to humanity his grievances against injustice and call for justice. But unfortunately, injustice still roars.

Greenspahn suggests that beyond institutional self-interest, such a decision might have been motivated by the desire for religious stability within a society where the Roman presence necessitated cohabitation politics. So he opines: “Judaism probably could not survive in any other way. Temporal authorities were unlikely to tolerate those claiming divine sanction for what were perceived as revolutionary activities, Just as rabbis could hardly tolerate a rival vision of God’s message.”[10] In this perspective, cohabitation politics and the desire to survive took the presidency.

Can democracy in a hostile world where all are trying to survive assure justice for all? Wouldn’t injustice be allowed for some for the sake of the well-being of the whole? Can fidelity to the Covenant, the Torah, indeed ensure fairness to humanity as a whole? Maybe we need to let the spirit continue to blow wherever he wills so that at all times and in all places, the accepted or acceptable injustice done to the marginalized and nobodies continue to be denounced.

[1] J Frederick E. Greenspahn, “Why Prophecy Ceased,” Journal of Biblical Literature 108, no. 1 (1989): 37-49, 37

[2] Cf. Adele Berlin and Marc Zvi Brettler, eds., The Jewish Study Bible: Second Edition, 2nd edition (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 1255.

[3] Adele Berlin and Marc Zvi Brettler, eds., The Jewish Study Bible, 1255.

[4] Brant Pitre and John Bergsma, A Catholic Introduction to the Bible: The Old Testament (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2018), 945.

[5] Cf. Brant Pitre and John Bergsma, A Catholic Introduction to the Bible, 945

[6] Brant Pitre and John Bergsma, A Catholic Introduction to the Bible, 946

[7] Brant Pitre and John Bergsma, A Catholic Introduction to the Bible, 947

[8] J Frederick E. Greenspahn, “Why Prophecy Ceased,” 47-48

[9] J Frederick E. Greenspahn, “Why Prophecy Ceased,” 48

[10] J Frederick E. Greenspahn, “Why Prophecy Ceased,” 49.

Saturday, February 12, 2022

Cursed is the one who trusts in human beings

Thus says the LORD: Cursed is the one who trusts in human beings, who seeks his strength in flesh, whose heart turns away from the LORD. Jeremiah 17: 5

The concept of Ubuntu, deeply rooted in African philosophy, presents a stark contrast to the individualistic worldview often associated with Western thought. This African ethos, succinctly expressed as "Because we are, I am" or "I am because we are," emphasizes the fundamental interconnectedness of human existence[1]. The late Anglican Bishop Desmond Tutu eloquently elucidated this concept:

"A person is a person through other persons. We need other human beings for us to learn how to be human, for none of us comes fully formed into the world. We would not know how to talk, to walk, to think, to eat as human beings unless we learned how to do these things from other human beings. For us, the solitary human being is a contradiction in terms."[2]

This perspective raises a profound question: Is it possible to learn to be human without relying on or trusting in other human beings? While one might be inclined to respond in the negative, it is crucial to acknowledge the philosophical challenge posed by René Descartes in the Western intellectual tradition. Descartes' famous proposition, "Cogito, ergo sum" ("I think, therefore I am"), suggests a form of epistemological solipsism that appears to negate the necessity of others in the formation of human identity[3]. However, this Cartesian approach fails to capture the full spectrum of human experience and development.

The necessity of human interconnectedness for personal flourishing is further emphasized by Tutu:

"I am because I belong. I need other human beings in order to be human. The completely self-sufficient human being is subhuman. I can be me only if you are fully you. [...] For we are made for togetherness, for family. We are created for a delicate network of relationships, of interdependence with our fellow human beings, with the rest of creation."[4]

In light of this understanding, how should one interpret the Prophet Jeremiah's warning against trusting in humanity? A poignant example that illustrates the balance between human interdependence and ultimate reliance on the divine can be found in Pope Francis' response to the 2015 ISIS threat against Rome. Rather than seeking political alliances or fortifying defenses, the Pope emphasized the unity of Christian faith transcending denominational boundaries:

"The blood of our Christian brothers is a witness that cries out, [...] If they are Catholic, Orthodox, Copts, Lutherans, it is not important: They are Christians. The blood is the same: It is the blood which confesses Christ."[5]

This response exemplifies a nuanced understanding that while human relationships are essential, the ultimate foundation of community lies in divine providence. The Prophet's admonition, therefore, should be understood not as a rejection of human interdependence, but as a caution against replacing trust in God with an exclusive reliance on human institutions.

For Christians, this community extends beyond the temporal realm to include the communion of saints, providing a rich heritage of spiritual wisdom and exemplars of faith[6]. This expanded concept of community reinforces the idea that authentic human flourishing is achieved not by turning away from God, but by embracing both divine and human relationships in harmonious balance.

In conclusion, while the African concept of Ubuntu and Christian theology both affirm the essential nature of human interconnectedness, they simultaneously point to a transcendent source of being that underpins and gives meaning to these relationships. The challenge, then, is to navigate the delicate balance between human interdependence and divine reliance, recognizing that true humanity is realized in community, but ultimately grounded in the divine.

Footnotes:

[1] Ramose, M. B. (1999). African Philosophy Through Ubuntu. Harare: Mond Books.

[2] Tutu, D. (2011). God Is Not a Christian: And Other Provocations. New York: HarperOne, pp. 21-22.

[3] Descartes, R. (1637/1998). Discourse on Method and Meditations on First Philosophy, 4th Ed. (D. A. Cress, Trans.). Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company.

[4] Tutu, D. (2011). God Is Not a Christian: And Other Provocations. New York: HarperOne, p. 22.

[5] World, J. (2015). "Pope Francis Condemns ISIS Killing of Coptic Christians." Time. Retrieved from https://time.com/3710911/pope-coptic-christian-killing/

[6] Lumen Gentium. (1964). Dogmatic Constitution on the Church. Vatican Council II.

Monday, January 17, 2022

Incarnation as a Trinitarian Event

Salvation history through conscious faith is presented to Christians as a revelation. For us, God’s self-communication in love to humanity is through many historical events. Some of these events are fundamentally important because of their significance. One of these is the incarnation, which according to John 1:14, coincides with the moment the eternal Logos, who was with God and who was God (John 1:1), took flesh and made his dwelling in our midst. However, other Gospel narratives lead us to perceive the role played by the Holy Spirit (Luke 1:35; Matthew 1:18) and the initiative taken by God – by sending the angel (Luke 1:26) or by sending the Son (John 3:16). Consequently, the incarnation cannot be seen simply as a Logos moment but as a Trinitarian event. However, it took Jesus’ life salvific event and his disciples’ experience of him after his resurrection to re-read backward in and beyond history to the interactions of the divine persons at the moment of the incarnation.

Jesus’ life produced an ambivalent feeling among his contemporaries. While some felt attracted by his teachings and listened to him, and praised God for the wonderful deeds that he performed (Matthew 9:8; Luke 7:16), others hated him, thought his actions were demoniac (Matthew 12: 27), and wished him dead. The haters succeeded in having him condemned and go through a death reserved only for the worst criminals in the Roman Empire. The belief was that his death would serve as a deterrent example to his followers and those who would like to emulate his actions. But in a reverse dramatic manner, Jesus’s movement became ever stronger after his resurrection, and despite the persecutions meant to slow it down, that followed.

Jesus’ followers believed that after he was crucified and buried, he rose, or God raised him from the dead. The proof is that the tomb in which he was buried is empty. And some of them might have either had an experience or encountered him. Most good Jews – except maybe the Sadducees – contemporaries of Jesus, hoped in the resurrection of the dead but as a collective and not an individual event. “Among the Jews of Jesus’ time, the resurrection of the dead was expected to be a collective and eschatological event. The clearest Old Testament text is Daniel 12:2. It affirms that at the time of the decisive battle between Michael and the enemies of the righteous in Israel (the ‘great tribulation’), ‘many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.”[1] The singular experience or encounter of Jesus, after his resurrection, propelled his followers into some kind of ‘eschatological presence. What is it about this one that he should rise before all might have been simultaneously very exciting and troubling? For, if their thinking were correct, this one (Jesus) must have a never-seen-before on earth relationship with God to enjoy such a privilege.

At this point, the disciples of Jesus, as they gathered weekly on the day of resurrection, after the customary sabbath gathering, started to reflect on his life retrospectively. In the liturgical celebration of the resurrection and the remembrance of the last supper, the disciples explained how “Jesus announced his imminent death, and affirmed that his Father would quickly vindicate him through resurrection.”[2]

The disciple’s experience or encounter with the risen Jesus, and the context of the liturgical celebration, led them to call him kyrios, Lord. Despite the various meanings that the title could have, they intended, it seems, to connote divinity in its application to Jesus. In calling Jesus the risen Lord, “they expressed their belief that now ‘Jesus could be hailed as Lord and receive the honors due to God alone because God had so appointed Christ to this status and these roles,’ while at the same time maintaining a distinction between God the Father and Jesus.”[3] Being truthful to their Jewish identity and the faith they proclaimed in one unique God, they could not but maintain the primacy of the Father, who is distinct from Jesus. In the meantime, “[t]heir fundamental claim, was that the historical manifestation of God and God’s view of life had occurred most clearly and definitively in the person of Jesus of Nazareth.”[4]

Before he died, Jesus promised to send the Spirit, which the disciples now believe to unite them to him and consequently to God, with whom Christ enjoyed a unique relationship. “The unity in love between Jesus and the Father, expressed in the ‘priestly prayer’ that concludes Jesus’ farewell to his disciples, […] is now made accessible to the believers through the unity of Jesus with his disciples guaranteed by the Spirit as Paraclete.”[5] While Scriptures indicate that the Spirit overshadowed Mary and was present at Jesus’ baptism, Janet Martin Soskice explains that beyond the birth of the Church, even the resurrection of Jesus is the work of Spirit. “The death of the Son then, and the separation of God from God in the cry of dereliction on the Cross, gives way to a new birth, the ekstasis which is the mission of the Spirit. It is through the Spirit […] that there is resurrection and the Church born to newness of life.”[6] From the overshadowing of Mary to the resurrection and birth of the Church, the Spirit is ever-present. Maybe, for this reason, the Spirit was understood by the early Church to share in the divinity of Christ, and consequently, God.

To look at the incarnation as a process starts here. We begin by glancing at Jesus’ life from the lenses of his resurrection, backward through his incarnation, to the first event of what happened in God’s mind at the dawn of creation, and forward to the eschatological future of humanity, passing through the birth of the Church.

The essential task of trinitarian theology […] consists, therefore, in linking the self-disclosure of the Three Divine Persons with the various phases of the life of Jesus, assigning to each of them a unique and distinctive role. Seen in this light, Jesus Christ, in all the mysteries of his human existence, becomes the ‘visibility’ not only of the Father (cf. Jn 14:9) but also of the Son and the Holy Spirit, concentrating in himself all the blazing splendor and glory of the trinitarian God.[7]

The significant thing in the statement of Nicolas Fogliacco, of venerable memory, is that from the human existence of Jesus, including the moment of the hypostatic union, one can observe in a distinctive way the Father the Son and the Spirit. Due to this paper’s succinct nature, the goal is to show how Fogliacco, in a creative way, maintains Jesus’ divinity and freedom in and from the Father and Spirit, and the Son at the time of the hypostatic union while taking into account the truth that God is one.

From Bible passages, one can gather the reality of the primacy of the Father, who, through the power of the Spirit, makes the incarnation of the Son possible. “The primacy of the Father, the fact that he is first and last in absolutely everything, constitutes the overarching principle of salvation history from creation (1Corthians 8:6) to eschatology (Cf. 1Corinthians 15:28).”[8] Therefore, the conception and birth of Jesus are rooted in the initiative of the Father. Vis-à-vis the Holy Spirit, Fogliacco says: “The absolute unique origin of Jesus cannot be explained on a parallel with other human births, including the extraordinary birth of the Baptist, because the Old Testament never speaks of an individual ‘born of the Spirit.’ This striking tradition […] shows that the origin of Jesus ‘from the Spirit’ indicates his heavenly origin and nature.”[9] However, from John’s Gospel, we know that the Father and the Spirit did not just create a new divine being in Mary’s womb. Instead, the eternal Logos, who was God, and with God, took flesh and became human. And this through the initiative of the Father and the power of the Spirit.

In the course of the history of trinity theology, multiple difficulties emerged. But how do we explain the nature of the eternal procession of Logos and the hypostatic union without giving the impression that the Spirit and the Father were pulling the strings while human nature and the eternal Logos just followed their cue? A perfect understanding of the incarnation commences with a good procession’s theology of the eternal Logos and the Spirit. Christ humanity is also at play at this crucial moment. Fr. Fogliacco writes: “The humanity of Christ is what came into being as a result of the self-expression of the eternal Logos outside of himself. ‘The humanity is the self-disclosure of the Logos to himself so that when God, expressing himself, exteriorizes himself, that very thing appears which we call the humanity of the Logos.’ The incarnation is not an ‘assumption,’ which presupposes a pre-existing human nature, but the absolute origin of human nature quite out of nothing, namely a ‘creation.’”[10] Consequently, it is evident that what was a stumbling block in some circles of early trinity theology: adoptionism and its subsequent different forms have no raison d’être. Looking from the beginning, in the mind of God, through his self-knowledge, that beget the Logos, Christ came into being, as an expression of that same God’s exteriorization of the Logos.

If we put ourselves in principio, right at the beginning of creation and of history, and again from the point of view of the Creator’s mind, then what we have here is not just the conception and planning of the humanity of Christ but of humanity as such, of human nature. As already hinted at, when the Logos became incarnate, he did not take up a pre-existing human nature, but the incarnation itself ‘created’ human nature. Christ did not inherit his nature from Adam: quite the contrary, Adam received his human nature from Christ as the first creative thought in the mind of God.[11]

There is no humanity that Christ assumes when the Word becomes flesh (John 1:14), if not his own humanity, that came into being right from the beginning. However, we cannot but ask: “if Adam inherited Jesus’ humanity and not the opposite, whose humanity do we inherit at birth?” Is there any good reason for us to believe that we inherit Adam’s and Jesus’ only after baptism? Are these questions even applicable considering that there is only one humanity, Jesus’ which Adam inherited? The implication of finding humanity thus profoundly embedded in the mystery of incarnation, liberated by enthroning freedom, and creates many theological possibilities that we may not discuss here. It is, however, essential to note that in this understanding, there is no presumption of ablation of what we have all known as the incarnation, namely the instant “T” of the hypostatic union. In the Father’s mind who sees everything at once, the two instances – of the pre-existence of the Logos, his humanity, and kenosis, in the fulness of time – even though distinct, are captured as one instance. Fogliacco explains: “It follows that the incarnation is a single event but with two distinct and inseparable faces: from the point of view of what it is, or ‘nature,’ it will be the self-emptying of the Logos; from the point of view of its ‘existence’ as a finite creature in this world, it will be an act of the Spirit.”[12] And so the incarnation does not end, till Christ rises, or is arisen from the dead.

As Fogliacco will conclude: “In any case, this conception [vision] shows that the Spirit is present and at work in the incarnation event itself, and not only after it. The Spirit, which spires simultaneously as the Logos but from the relationship between the Logos and God the Father, is not an afterthought of the incarnation, but ever-present, s/he fulfills here sanctification’s duties at the kenosis and after that. Which of course does not exclude but includes, and even strongly demands, his sanctifying activity once the humanity of Christ comes into being.”[13]

The public life of Christ, his death, and the disciples’ experience of him, as Lord, after his resurrection, led to the retrospective evaluation of his life. At the end of the apostolic days, they had realized that Jesus was the Son of God, God, different from God the Father. They also knew that the Spirit, who was instrumental at the conception and after that, was undoubtedly God. Even as they understood these three persons to be God, they believed in one God. The work of determining how this worked was left to future generations of Christians. Now that we do not need to do the apostolic Church’s job, we can at least commence from the beginning, the incarnation. A good look and understanding at the incarnation, not just as one event but a process, allows us a better glimpse of the mystery of the trinity, in and through the life of Christ, and by extension, our lives.

[1] Daniel J. Harrington S.J and James F. Keenan, Paul and Virtue Ethics: Building Bridges Between New Testament Studies and Moral Theology (Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2010), 27.

[2] Gerald O’Collins, Christology: A Biblical, Historical, and Systematic Study of Jesus (OUP Oxford, 2009), 71.

[3] Francis Schüssler Fiorenza, Systematic Theology: Roman Catholic Perspectives (Fortress Press, 2011), 146.

[4] Francis Schüssler Fiorenza, Systematic Theology, 143.

[5] Francis Schüssler Fiorenza, Systematic Theology, 150.

[6] Janet Martin Soskice, “Trinity and the Feminine Other,” in Simeon Zahl, The Modern Theologians Reader, ed. David F. Ford and Mike Higton, 1st edition (Chichester, West Sussex ; Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011), 267-272, 268.

[7] Nicola Fogliacco, Freedom and Trinity, 1st edition (Paulines Publications Africa, 2020), 31.

[8] Nicola Fogliacco, Freedom and Trinity, 60.

[9] Nicola Fogliacco, Freedom and Trinity, 61.

[10] Nicola Fogliacco, Freedom and Trinity, 73-74.

[11] Nicola Fogliacco, Freedom and Trinity, 74.

[12] Nicola Fogliacco, Freedom and Trinity, 76.

[13] Nicola Fogliacco, Freedom and Trinity, 76.

Saturday, November 27, 2021

Hope

Several years ago, researchers experimented to see the effect hope has on those undergoing hardship. Two sets of laboratory rats were placed in separate tubs of water. The researchers left one set in the water and found that within an hour, they had all drowned. The other rats were periodically lifted out of the water and then returned. When that happened, the second set of rats swam for over 24 hours. Why? Not because they were given a rest, but because they suddenly had hope! Those animals somehow hoped that if they could stay afloat just a little longer, someone would reach down and rescue them. If hope holds such power for unthinking rodents, how much more significant should its effect be on our lives.

Where there is no hope in the future, there is no power in the present.

The power of a tumultuous present lies in the hope of a better future. And with God, the future is always one of hope. The hope of another, of a better, improved, situation, world.

I believe here lies the fruits of the readings of this weekend, the First Sunday of Advent. There is no need to get lost in the weed of the dramatic description of the end of time. We are instead invited to look under these descriptions and capture the hope we are called to. Jeremiah describes hope as the day when Lord will fulfill the promise he made. One may ask, what promise is that? It is one already described a few chapters earlier in Jeremiah 29: 11. “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” This is the promise made by God, which in reality is not different from the entire purpose of his creation when everything he had created was either good or perfect for humanity. When Jesus at his time looked at life and peoples’ behavior around him, he was like, well, the worst may be yet to come, but not to get drowned or overwhelmed by all that. “stand erect and raise your heads because your redemption is at hand. “Beware that your hearts do not become drowsy from carousing and drunkenness and the anxieties of daily life….”

For us today, this message is much more pressing and absolutely relevant. Right now, I believe, we are all overwhelmed by life and all its curve balls being thrown at us. However, the time is not to be thinking of the end as I like to do. The time is to remember God’s promise and to keep fighting hard so that we, our children and children’s children, may see the goodness of the Lord in the Land of the living.

Friday, July 2, 2021

Fellowship in Augustine’s Sermon on 1John

Fellowship in Augustine’s Sermon on 1John

In the 5^th century (Easter Season of 407), St. Augustine peached a series of homilies meant to ease the unity between the Donatists and Western Christianity, also known as the Caecilian Catholics in North Africa. Donatism was a mass movement developed mainly in North Africa. The movement was born and developed: first, in opposition to an elected bishop (Caecilian ) they considered an apostate and sinner; and second, because of people’s desire to claim the church’s unity and purity through its members and leaders. “The ideas of Donatus and his followers were simple. As God was one, so was his church, and its hallmark was purity. The integrity of the church lay in the integrity of its members, sealed by baptism and working in concord with the bishops.”[1] For Donatists, baptism and, consequently, all sacraments must be received from their bishops whom they considered pure, because they never apostatized as did Caecilian. Anyone, they maintained “who knowingly receives faith from the faithless receives not faith but guilt.”[2]

Augustine accepts the Donatist principle that the church is one and its hallmark is purity. However, unlike Donatists, the church's oneness and unity are not a local unity within Donatism. For Augustine, unity is about the unity of the Universal Church. “See, [he says] you have the Church everywhere in the world; don’t follow false righteous-makers and true off-cutters.”[3] He further maintains that the universal church commenced in Jerusalem, and through the mandate of Jesus in Luke 24:27, spread to all nations. Not to be in a communion with the Church that started in Jerusalem and spread throughout the earth is schismatic. Consequently, he admonishes his audience in these terms: “Don’t let those that have been cut off lead you astray so that you are cut off. Instead, urge those that have been cut off to re-insert themselves once more.”[4]

As for the Church’s purity, Augustine repudiates Donatism, which claims and believes that the pilgrim church has achieved purity once and for all. While Donatist, it seems, used the expression purity over against a one-time apostasy, Augustine deploys the expression vis-à-vis sin. For him, as long as we are on earth, we remain sinners. Purity in relation to sin becomes a desire that stretches the believer’s heart, which is progressively filled till it cannot be filled again. And that is when s/he dies. “The entire life of a good Christian is a holy desire. What you desire, however, you don’t yet see. But by desiring, you are made large enough so that when there comes what you should see, you may be filled.”[5]

To make his case against Donatists, even if he is deploying their expressions (purity, unity) differently, he uses their beloved book. The First Epistle of John, it seems, was the preferred book Donatists used to defend their doctrine and justify their separation from the Caecilian Catholics in North Africa. Augustine, however, reclaims the book and demonstrates that Donatists have inaccurately interpreted it.

A recurrent theme in the Johannine community’s writings is the bifurcation between the sons of light and the sons of darkness, between the children of God and the children of evil.[6] For Donatists, this formed a solid foundation for their separation from the Catholic Church of North Africa. They knew, identified themselves as the holy ones of God, the children of the light. In the same perspective, they recognized their brothers/sisters who remained faithful to a bishop who once committed apostasy as children of darkness and sinners.

Charitas, Love, is what Augustine places at the center-core of the Johannine literature, especially First John. A good reading of the First John, consequently, makes one discover the virtue of Love – which he uses over five 500 times in the ten homilies on the first epistle of John – that fosters: (1) Unity, (2) communion, (3) fellowship, (4) forgiveness.

Fellowship – the main object, I suppose, of our 9 lines study passage – is one of the elements that Charitas fosters. It is very appropriate to start by noting that the word ‘fellowship’ is used 22 times in the first homily. The text for our consideration, made up of 9 lines, uses the word four times (see lines 5, 7, 8, 9).

The background of Augustine’s discussion on fellowship is once against the Donatist’s bipartite vision of 1^st John. Here, they (Donatists) might have maintained from reading 1John 1:5-6 that to have fellowship with the one God who is holy, light, one must walk in the light and not in darkness. To walk in the light is synonymous with being righteous without sin, while to walk in darkness is synonymous with living in sin or wickedness. When Donatists read this passage, they conclude that their separation with the sinners, those Caecilian Catholics, whom they considered sinners is justified. Walking in the light requires holiness, not only individual holiness but also community holiness. Fellowship with God, therefore, demands that we get rid of those who live in sin, but also those who, through their actions, have soiled the community. It is with this conviction that the Donatists separated themselves from the Catholics. 1^st John becomes, therefore, an excellent passage that justifies their schismatic action.

Augustine looks deeper. He proclaims John’s teaching that “God is light, and there is no darkness in him” (1John 1:5). But he goes further to maintain that the light of God, which is his nature, and the element of his life, is far remote from any expression humans can find to describe it.[7] It seems Augustine notes that the sublime nature of the divine light can be astonishingly confusing, especially for those who claim righteousness. For if they genuinely approach him to be enlightened, their faces will blush. For God who is light will let them see their shamefulness (the sins they claim they do not have).[8]

Now Augustine has managed to put everyone Donatists and Catholics alike in the same basket of sin. We are all sinners, he suggests. However, a question remains, if we are all sinners, does that imply none of us can have fellowship with God who is light, since we are sinners and, therefore, in darkness?

God sent his Son for our salvation, and because of that, there is hope that we will have fellowship with him. “There must be fellowship with God; there is no other hope for eternal life.”[9] In summary, Augustine is saying vain would be the passion death and resurrection of the Son of God if there is no way out for us to have fellowship with ‘Light.’

He, consequently, urges his listener to remain attentive; he is convinced that John[10] will give all of us hope by offering a lifting solution (see line 1). For without hope, the journey to eternity will remain utopic, hopeless, humanly unachievable (see line 2). Augustine wants his audience at this time to understand that righteousness is truly a journey. It is not a once and for all achievement for the pilgrim Church to which we belong. Through the multiple usages of the words related to a semantic field of a ‘journey,’ he proves his argument. He uses walk/walking four times, once in lines 6, twice in line 7, and once in line 8; ‘hastening’ two times, in lines 2 and 3; arrive/arriving twice, in lines 3 and 4. The word journey itself is used once, in line 2, while the word ‘way’ is also used once in line 5.

The journey to our homeland, Augustine maintains, is a hasty one. And two things – namely: hope (used in lines 1 and 3) against hopelessness (line 4) and strength against weakness (lines 2 and 3) – are fundamental to the hasty journey to our homeland. For Augustine, those who journey need to be hopeful that they will reach their destination, in this case, our homeland (lines 2 and 3). The hope of arriving comes, in this contest,[11] from him (God), who willed our salvation through Christ and wants “us to arrive there” saved in order to be with him (line 4).

Since God worked for our salvation which he dearly wills, he offers us strength by feeding us on the way (line 5), so we may have a walking, and not a static, fellowship with him (lines 5 and 6).

At this juncture, when Augustine stipulates, “If we say that we have fellowship with him, and we are walking in darkness, we are lying, and we are not acting truthfully (1:6)” (lines 5 and 6), he is making a rhetorical statement. Walking in darkness means refusing to journey with God, who journeys with us. Anyone who claims fellowship with God who is on a journey with us but thinks he has arrived by remaining in one place claiming holiness, that person is/walking in darkness. God cannot be feeding us on the way, while some stand in one place, refusing to move, and they still think they have fellowship with him. To lie, to act untruthfully (line 7), is to pretend to be walking, while in truth, we feel we are done with the journey. In the meantime, to walk in the light is to journey beside everyone else, supporting one another as we move along with God, who feeds us on the way to our homeland.

As we move along with God, we enjoy his light. We, in turn, end up walking with him, who radiates light around himself. By emitting light around himself for the benefit of those walking by his side, we become people walking in the light (line 7). And because we walk around the pillar of light (God) (see Exodus 13: 21), we have a relationship (fellowship) with the light (line 9) and a relationship (fellowship) with one another (line 8) by virtue of the light that we share from God.

It is only in Charitas that God worked for our salvation and keeps journeying with us, feeding us along the way so we may reach our homeland. Through Charitas, we need to accept to travel together, with one another, and with God who brightens our way. The uncharitables who refuse the company of others, for one reason or another, lose the company of God who is the journeying light. They end up in darkness, being too far away from the moving light, God.

Bibliography:

Augustine, Saint. Homilies on the First Epistle of John. Translated by Boniface Ramsey. Hyde Park, NY: New City Press, 2008.

Frend, W. H. C. The Rise of Christianity. 1st edition. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984.

[1] W. H. C. Frend, The Rise of Christianity, 1st edition (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1984), 654

[2]W. H. C. Frend, The Rise of Christianity, 654

[3] Saint Augustine, Homilies on the First Epistle of John, trans. Boniface Ramsey (Hyde Park, NY: New City Press, 2008), 29

[4] Saint Augustine, Homilies on the First Epistle of John, 39

[5] Saint Augustine, Homilies on the First Epistle of John, 69

[6] Cf. W. H. C. Frend, The Rise of Christianity, 657-658

[7] Cf. Saint Augustine, Homilies on the First Epistle of John, 24

[8] Cf Saint Augustine, Homilies on the First Epistle of John, 24

[9] Saint Augustine, Homilies on the First Epistle of John, 25

[10] Other translations suggest God instead of John.

[11] Somewhere else in the same series, Augustin justifies hope through desire. In that Context, hope comes from the desire to lay hold on “what is going to come” (page, 69). However, desire does not leave us without effect, it fills us with what is to come, without exhausting it. For what is to come remains far beyond our conception, our imagination.

Fr. Augustin Kassa, SMA