Schaff, Hodge, and Murray on Jesus’ Natures

I spent all day Wednesday scouring my systematic theologies on the doctrine of the two natures of Christ, the hypostatic union, and what can be said about it. Most of them were not terribly helpful. Three, however, stand out as the very best on the topic: Schaff, Hodge and Murray, Hodge more so than Murray. I found Hodge a model of lucidity and carefulness that I have not seen in any of the commenters on the blog on this particular subject. This blog post will be my final word on the subject. I have come to a place of comfort in what Hodge says, ALL of what Hodge says, mind you, the qualifications being as equally important as the statements they qualify. Hodge will be supplemented by Schaff’s notes and Murray’s insight.

The difficulties that I have had with statements like “God died” have to do with the fact that such statements are simply not qualified enough. They are too slippery. If you screw up your face and look at them cross-eyed, they can be orthodox. But they can just as easily be understood in a heretical direction. What to do? We will start with the Chalcedonian definition, which I find very helpful, when related in full. Here it is in full, as translated by Phillip Schaff in Creeds of Christendom, volume 2, pp. 62-63:

We, then, following the holy Fathers, all with one consent, teach men to confess one and the same Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, the same perfect in Godhead and also perfect in manhood; truly God and truly man, of a reasonable [rational] soul and body; consubstantial [coessential] with the Father according to the Godhead, and consubstantial with us according to the Manhood; in all things like unto us, without sin; begotten before all ages of the Father according to the Godhead, and in these latter days, for us and for our salvation, born of the Virgin Mary, the Mother of God, according to the Manhood; one and the same Christ, Son, Lord, Only-begotten, to be acknowledged in two natures, inconfusedly, unchangeably, indivisibly, inseparably; the distinction of natures being by no means taken away by the union, but rather the property of each nature being preserved, and concurring in one Person and one Subsistence, not parted or divided into two persons, but one and the same Son, and only begotten, God the Word, the Lord Jesus Christ, as the prophets from the beginning [have declared] concerning him, and the Lord Jesus Christ himself has taught us, and the Creed of the holy Fathers has handed down to us.

Several grammatical points need to be made about this formulation. Firstly, the phrase “according to the Manhood” modifies the noun in the genitive “God-bearer” (theotokou). Schaff comments on this that “Mary was the mother not merely of the human nature of Jesus of Nazareth, but of the theanthropic person of Jesus Christ; yet not of his eternal Godhead…but of his incarnate person, or the Logos united to humanity…In like manner, the subject of the Passion was the theanthropic person; yet not according to his divine nature, which in itself is incapable of suffering, but according to human nature, which was the organ of suffering” (p. 64). I like this care and precision. Furthermore, Schaff notes that it was the Monophysites who “taught only one composite nature of Christ…making his humanity a mere accident of the immutable divine substance, and using the liturgical shibboleth ‘God has been crucified’ (without a qualifying ‘according to the human nature, or ‘the flesh,’ as the theotokos is qualified in the Symbol of Chalcedon)” (p. 65). In other words, it is Chalcedonian to utter the qualifying “according to the Manhood.” It is Monophysite to say “theotokos” without the qualification.

Hodge adds a level of sophistication that is quite helpful. I recommend everyone read it. The sections I am going to highlight (with quite a few ellipses: I encourage everyone to read the original, so that they can see that I am quoting him entirely in context) are located in volume 2, pp. 390ff:

No attribute of the one nature is transferred to the other…the properties or attributes of a substance constitute its essence, so that if they be removed or if others of a different nature be added to them, the substance itself is changed…The union of the two natures in Christ is a personal or hypostatic union. By this is meant, in the first place, that it is not a mere indwelling of the divine nature analogous to the indwelling of the Spirit of God in his people…it is intended to affirm that the union is such that Christ is but one person…the personality of Christ is in the divine nature…It was a divine person, not merely a divine nature, that assumed humanity, or became incarnate. Hence it follows that the human nature of Christ, separately considered, is impersonal…To personality both rational substance and distinct subsistence are essential. The latter the human nature of Christ never possessed. The Son of God did not unite Himself with a human person, but with a human nature. The proof of this is that Christ is but one person…the person is the koinonos, or partaker of the attributes of both natures; so that whatever may be affirmed of either nature may be affirmed of the person…it is on this principle, that what is true of either nature is true of the person, that a multitude of passages of Scripture are to be explained. These passages are of different kinds…Passages in which the person is the subject, but the predicate is true only of the human nature (Murray says the same, as does a’Brakel and a number of others, LK). As when Christ said, “I thirst;” “My soul is sorrowful even unto death…” There are two classes of passages under this general head which are of special interest. First, those in which the person is designated from the divine nature when the predicate is true only of the human nature. “The Church of God which He purchased with his blood.” “The Lord of glory was crucified…” The forms of expression, therefore, long prevalent in the church, “the blood of God,” “God the mighty maker died,” etc., are in accordance with Scriptural usage. And if it be right to say “God died,” it is right to say “He was born.” The person born of the Virgin Mary was a divine person. He was the Son of God. For, as we have seen, the person of Christ is in Scripture often designated from the divine nature, when the predicate is true only of the human nature…It is instructive to notice here how easily and naturally the sacred writers predicate of our Lord the attributes of humanity and those of divinity, however his person may be denominated…his person may be denominated from one nature when the act ascribed to Him belongs to the other nature…Such being the Scriptural doctrine concerning the person of Christ, it follows that although the divine nature is immutable and impassible, and therefore neither the obedience nor the suffering of Christ was the obedience or suffering of the divine nature, yet they were none the less the obedience and suffering of a divine person…It is to this fact that the infinite merit and efficiency of his work are due.

Now, some of my readers will be saying, “But we’ve included these qualifications all along.” I have not seen it. I have seen many unqualified statements being bandied around as shibboleths. I have felt that if I was not willing to say what they wanted me to say (and without the careful qualifications of Hodge), then I was a Nestorian, or bordering on being one. Interestingly, and a slight side-note here, the work of Harold Brown (entitled Heresies) is fascinating here. He argues that although Nestorius the person was condemned by the council (which was due largely to political and Machiavellian machinations), it was actually Nestorius’ doctrine which is more comfortable with the Chalcedonian formulation than Cyril’s was.

Murray adds something which I felt was very helpful when one is considering the relationship of the divine nature to the human nature in the suffering of Christ, and especially in His death. He writes, “The death meant separation of the elements of his human nature. But he, as the Son of God, was still united to the two separated elements of his human nature. He, as respects his body, was laid in the tomb and, as respects his disembodied spirit, he went to the Father. He was buried. He was raised from the dead. He was indissolubly united to the disunited elements of his human nature” (from the collected works, volume 2, p. 139).

I agree with these formulations of Schaff, Hodge, and Murray. Read carefully, and then re-read carefully so that ALL the qualifications are firmly fixed in your mind. I agree with (especially) Hodge’s qualified way of saying these things, not the commenters’ unqualified way of saying them. In particular, the way Hodge speaks of the biblical way of writing (actions and effects of one nature are often attributed to the person which can be designated by either nature) is so carefully thought out and helpful. It reminds me of how sacramental union works: there is a union between the sign and the thing signified whereby the names and effects of the one are attributed to the other (WCF 27.2). It doesn’t mean that the effects of the thing signified actually belong to the sign itself (as the WCF goes on to carefully qualify). Rather, because of the union, one can be spoken of in terms of the other.

Nestorianism?

Charges of Nestorianism are floating about with rather alarming looseness.

Folks, one isn’t Nestorian unless one believes in Christ having two separate persons. And it isn’t Nestorian to say that something can happen to one nature and not the other, any more than it is Nestorian to say that Jesus sometimes acts according to one nature, and sometimes acts according to the other nature. What is true for the activities of Jesus is also true of the passivities, especially since Jesus actively took upon Himself the suffering.

One must make a distinction, if you will pardon the pun, between the distinction of Christ’s two natures (which is Chalcedonian!), as opposed to the separation of the two natures (which is Nestorian). But again, here we must say that just because something happens to one nature and not the other does not mean that we are separating the two natures. That is a definite confusion I am seeing in some of the comments. Just because one does not scrape one’s violin bow across the tuning pegs of a violin does not mean that one has separated the violin strings from the tuning pegs. Now, every analogy will break down, of course. My only point here is that positing suffering of only the human nature of Christ does not constitute Nestorianism in any way, shape, or form.

The Communication of Attributes

The issues in Christology post has raised a very important point regarding the natures of Christ in relation to His person.

The phrase “communication of attributes” (in Latin, communicatio idiomatum) refers to the way in which we can say things about Christ’s person that more specifically relate to one of His natures. In other words, whatever we can say about Christ’s human nature, we can also say about His person. Whatever we can say about His divine nature, we can also say about His person.

However, here is where a difference occurs between the Reformed and the Lutheran. The Lutherans believed in a different communication than the Reformed do. The Lutherans believed that what can be said about Jesus’ divine nature can also be said about His human nature. This is how they undergird their doctrine of consubstantiation. If the attributes of God can be communicated to Christ’s human nature, then there is no obstacle to saying that Christ is physically present here on earth in, around, through, and under the elements of bread and wine.

The Reformed did not believe in this form of the communication of attributes. Instead, they believed that Christ’s human nature stayed human, and Christ’s divine nature stayed divine, and that those two natures did not communicate attributes to each other, but rather to the person of Christ. I have tried to draw a little graphic design that will help illustrate the point. The lines represent the natures of Christ, and the arrows represent the communication of attributes. Now, some who are calling themselves Reformed on this blog have been arguing for a Lutheran version of Christology. And these people have suggested that I have been undervaluing the hypostatic union of the divine and the human. As one can see from this diagram, however, the Reformed view of the communication of attributes draws one’s eye to the apex, which can be said to be the hypostatic union. So, on the contrary, the hypostatic union is what prevents us from attributing human characteristics (or suffering!) to the divine nature. The hypostatic union is precisely the point at which the inseparability and distinction of the two natures meets.

Christ’s Humanity and the Lord’s Supper

It occurred to me recently that, although the Reformed tradition has been correct about the (S)piritual presence of Christ at the Lord’s supper, the orientation of that discussion has always (due to the debates) been (limitedly) the physical place on earth wherever the Lord’s Supper is being celebrated.

There is an element of the Lord’s Supper that has sometimes been overlooked in all this, an element which the Reformed have always affirmed. It is called the sursum corda. It is the “lifting up of the hearts.” This element is common among all Christian traditions, incidentally. “Lift up your hearts…” “We lift them up to the Lord.” This does not mean “feel uplifted.” This actually means that, by faith, we are lifted up into the presence of God in heaven itself. If you look up Calvin’s liturgy for the Lord’s Supper, you will find it clearly present. At the Lord’s Supper, then, what we are saying by the sursum corda is that we are lifted up into the presence of Christ Himself, by faith.

The implications of this for the Lord’s Supper now become clear. Christ is not physically present in the elements down here on earth. He is present “down here” only by the Holy Spirit. But He also lifts us up to Him there in heaven spiritually, by faith. So Christ is present physically at the Supper. The two qualifications are that He is not present in the elements, and He is not present down here except by the Spirit. Instead, He lifts us up by the Holy Spirit through our faith, so that we can be present THERE.

My wife, when I had explained this idea to her, had one of those (many!) brilliant insightful moments, and added that this was eschatological: we are already present there at the Lord’s Supper in heaven by faith, and we will be present at the Wedding Supper of the Lamb in the future. So there is an already/not yet structure to this participation. I think I had known this about the Lord’s Supper in general. However, I had not applied it specifically to being in the physical presence of Christ by faith already, and waiting for our physical presence to be before His physical presence not yet.

I have not seen this particular idea anywhere, although I guess I would be surprised if no one has ever thought of it before. I myself came to it as I was contemplating the last Christological post I had written here. If anyone knows of anyone who has thought this thought before, I would be grateful if it could be pointed out.

An Issue In Christology

I was reading yesterday in my Shorter Catechism commentaries in preparation for Sunday, when I came across a rather old issue in Christology. What relationship does Christ’s divinity have to the suffering of Christ?

Some background on the question is necessary. We believe that Jesus has a full divine nature, and a full human nature (both body and soul), but united in (only) one person. The Reformed have believed (over against the Lutherans) that the properties of the human nature may be ascribed to the whole person, and that the properties of the divine nature may be ascribed to the person, but that the properties of the human nature may NOT be ascribed to the divine nature, or vice versa. In the Lord’s Supper, for instance, the Lutherans believe that Christ’s human nature is omnipresent in the Supper, whereas the Reformed believe that the human nature of Christ is seated at the right hand of the Father, and that Christ is rather present by the Holy Spirit (this is the so-called extra Calvinisticum, the “extra” ability that Christ’s divine nature has to be everywhere present over and above the limited physical presence of His human nature). Sometimes Jesus does or says something according to one nature, and sometimes according to the other nature.

So, when it comes to the suffering on the cross, what exactly was happening? Did God suffer on the cross? This is a common question asked to candidates for licensure and ordination. I believe that the answer is that His divine nature sustained His human nature, but did not itself suffer. This sustaining would not be limited to the physical suffering, but would also include the spiritual suffering, as well as the sin-bearing. This is not a communication of properties of the divine to the human, since God also sustains us without communicating Godness to us. The divine nature was therefore active in the suffering, but not as the direct recipient of the suffering. What do ya’ll think?

The Hypostatic Union in Relation to Our Union With Christ

I was reading in Thomas Manton today and discovered some very interesting thoughts on the above topic. Here are the relevant passages:

In the hypostatical union, our nature is united with Christ’s nature; in the mystical union, our person with his person. In the hypostatical union, Christ matched into our family; in the mystical union, the soul is the bride…Thus Christ first honoured our nature, and then our persons; first he assumeth our nature, and then espouseth our persons…The hypostatical union is indissoluble; it was never laid aside, not in death; it was the Lord of glory that was crucified, it was the body of Christ in the grave. So it is in the mystical union; Christ and we shall never be parted…In the hypostatical union, the human nature can do nothing apart from the divine; no more can we out of Christ…In the hypostatical union, God dwelleth in Christ σωματικῶς, Col. 2:9 “In him dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily.” In the mystical union, God dwelleth in us πνευματικῶς, 1 John 4:4 “Greater is he that is in you, than he that is in the world.” The hypostatical union is the ground of all that grace and glory that was bestowed on the human nature…By the hypostatical union, Christ is made our brother, he contracted affinity with the human nature; by the mystical union he is made our head and husband, he weddeth our persons. Volume XI of his complete works, pp. 35-36.

Incidentally, I came across another quotation on baptism in Manton that cuts against the grain of the Federal Vision:

We are ‘baptized into Christ,’ Galatians 3:27. It is the pledge of our admission into that body whereof Christ is the head. God is aforehand with us; we were engaged to make a profession of this union, before we had liberty to choose our own way. Let us not retract our vows, and make baptism only a memorial of our hypocrisy, to profess union when there is no such matter. Emphasis added, p. 68 of the same volume.

Job and Bunyan Versus The Shack

The book entitled The Shack has been a marketing phenomenon among “evangelicals.” Blurbs compare the Shack to Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. I am here to tell you that the hype is a bit forced. Let’s do a bit of comparison, first with the book of Job, then with Bunyan, interjecting a bit of C.S. Lewis in for fun.

The Shack is the story of a man whose beautiful daughter is brutally murdered. The man leaves the faith, only to receive a message from God to meet him at the shack, the very place where his daughter was murdered. He then meets God. The Father is a big jolly black woman, the Son is a Jewish carpenter, and the Holy Spirit is a wispy, mysterious Asian woman (we’ll get to that blasphemy in a moment). The upshot of the plot is that God explains to the main character the why’s and the wherefore’s, and the man is healed. The theological upshot is that God is good, but not all-powerful. Young takes Rabbi Kushner’s prong of the dilemma. What is important to notice here is a combination of rationalism and experientalism. On the one hand, Young tears at the heart strings, making the reader bleed for the main character. On the other hand, in order for the man’s faith to be “restored,” God has to explain himself.

Contrast Job. Job lost much more than the man in the story (ten children!), and it was due to the prince of demons being opposed to him, not a mere man, even if Job didn’t know that. He lost all his possessions, and then finally his health. He had much more to complain about than the man in The Shack. He too wanted God to explain. He wanted to vindicate himself as well. But when God finally has His say, He tells Job that He does not have to come to the bar of human reason. Humans have to come to the bar of God. This is where C.S. Lewis comes in. In his brilliant essay entitled “God in the Dock,” he makes the point that the really important thing for autonomous man is that he is the judge, and that God is in the dock. The man may very well be a kindly judge and acquit God of wrong-doing, if God shows Himself up to the task of defending himself. But the really important thing is that man is the judge, and God is in the dock (on trial). Job shows us that the reverse is true. God is the judge, and man is in the dock.

Rationalism always results in God losing one of His attributes. If God is all-powerful and all-good, then how come evil exists? The Bible does not allow us to lessen the difficulty of this question by jettisoning one of these attributes. The reason the problem is so acute for the believer is that God is both all-benevolent and all-powerful.

Just to begin an answer (and not leave the readers hanging), God allows evil to exist for various reasons, but evil will not continue to last. God has dealt with the problem of evil on the cross and the empty tomb, and will finally eradicate the very presence of evil in this world in the future. No other religion, by the way, or atheism, has an answer to this question. Pantheism believes that evil is naturally part of the world. No hope of eradication there. Atheism cannot define right and wrong, so his faith in his own reason becomes shockingly apparent when he confidently talks about the problem of evil. Deists don’t believe that God has anything to do with the world. These all lack hope and eschatology.

Bunyan and Young go in fundamentally different directions. Christian’s journey is to the bar of judgment as a defendant whom God will acquit based on the spotless righteousness of Christ imputed to him. The man’s journey in The Shack is to the bench, where he magnanimously acquits God of wrong-doing, once it becomes evident that God is really powerless to stop it. Of course, if God is powerless to stop evil, then He is also powerless to eradicate evil, and so that road is also a dead end eschatologically speaking.

In talking with one of my friends, he made the very interesting point also about faith. What moves Christian? It is the scroll, the evangelist, the Interpreter, the fellow believers he meets on the way, the key of faith in Doubting Castle. It is the means of grace which compels Christian to a life of faith. In The Shack, it is a one-time rationalistic showdown where God pleads and begs with the man (in effect) not only to give Him a hearing, but to acquit Him of wrong-doing. Ultimately, the man’s faith is in himself.

My friend also noted the contrast between the way in which God is portrayed in the Bible as opposed to how God is portrayed in The Shack. The God of The Shack is hardly a God with the least little hint of awe and majesty. He is not the God of the whirlwind, which is how God treated Job. He is not the God before whom all bow their faces to the ground. Instead, He is a God whose booty sways to the music. Anyone who cannot see the blasphemy and rank heresy of this portrayal of God is seriously lacking in discernment. God is Spirit, and only the Second Person of the Trinity has a human body which exists only in hypostatic union with the divine nature, and is currently a glorified body. I choose to believe the God of the Bible, who will eradicate evil because He is completely omnipotent and completely free of sin.

A Book Review of Scott Clark’s Book on Caspar Olevian

Dr. Clark invited me to read his book a while back. So I bought the book and read it. And I’m very glad I did. It is very well-written and very well researched. I say I am writing a book review. However, it must not be thought that I am any sort of expert in the field of historical theology. I write this post very much from the perspective of a student learning from a professor, not as a colleague. It is available here.

I really have almost nothing to criticize about the book. Clark first explores the historical context, debunking a number of curious myths about the Reformed faith in the 16th century (such as saying that the Reformed were in positions of power throughout Europe during this time; rather, most Reformed folk were aliens and strangers). Clark sets Olevian firmly in the historical context of 16th century Germany. His importance is often overlooked, and it is somewhat startling to read that “the Palatinate of this period cannot be fairly interpreted without Caspar Olevian” (pp. 20-21). Of course, he is (justly) famous primarily for being one of the two main authors of the Heidelberg Catechism. However, his theology is not so well known. Lyle Bierma has written an excellent study on Olevian. However, Clark’s study is by no means superfluous, as Bierma himself acknowledges. Indeed, Clark’s study moves beyond Bierma in placing Olevian’s covenant theology in the context of his entire theology.

Olevian was a humanist (in the Renaissance sense of the term, a linguist) who was well-educated in the classics (chapter 3). He brought this training to bear on his theology in his methodology, not in an anti-Protestant rationalising movement (pg. 41). In other words, scholastic humanism influenced how he did theology, not so much what he actually said. In so doing, he functions as “a transitional stage in Reformed orthodoxy between the earlier stages of Protestant theology and the more highly developed dogmatic theology of the seventeenth century” (pg. 73).

Olevian’s covenantal theology depends on his trinitarian theology (chapter 4), since “the covenant is nothing more than a way of describing the relations which obtain between the triune God and his people” (pg. 74). In this chapter, Clark deals with several theologians in order to set the context for Olevian’s theology.

Calvin is included, of course, since Olevian was one of Calvin’s students (pg. 84). It is in this chapter that Clark addresses Calvin’s doctrine of mystical union. It is here that I would have some questions to ask Dr. Clark. First question: if Books 3 and 4 of Calvin’s Institutes “focus on (sic, ‘the’) Holy Spirit’s work in uniting sinners to Christ and sanctifying them in the church through the means of grace” (pg. 83), and given the use of the word “simul” in Calvin’s Commentaries on Romans (see Mark Garcia’s book, pg. 135) to describe the simultaneously given sanctification and justification, to what extent is Clark willing to say that sanctification is the result of union, but justification is not?

Chapter 3.1.1 of the Institutes clearly says that nothing of what Christ did is of any value to us unless we are united to him. This includes what Christ did for our justification. Without union, no justification, in other words. Can we really say that there is a time lapse in between justification and sanctification? I confess to having a hard time with this. Is it true that the infusion of the grace of sanctification happens “subsequent to justification” (pg. 83)? If this is so, then why did Calvin treat sanctification (chapters 1-10 of Book 3) before justification (chapters 11-18)? It would seem to me (and this point is not original with me; I believe that Dr. Gaffin first suggested it to me) that Calvin did this because of a polemical rhetoric against Rome’s claim that justification encouraged license. Calvin’s point is that it doesn’t matter which order you put them in because they are simul in union with Christ. Of course, 99.9999999% of sanctification occurs after justification. But the beginning of it is given at the same time as justification, so that justification and sanctification are distinct, yet inseparable aspects of union with Christ.

I think I have read Clark saying somewhere that the order is logical, not temporal. Fair enough. However, it seems to me that such language almost inevitably results in temporal thinking, much like the order of the decrees when discussing supra- and infralapsarianism. How can one talk of temporal order in the decrees of God, which were all determined in eternity (simul)? Yet the debate between the two positions almost inevitably resorts to temporal language. Of course that is eternity, and this is time. Nevertheless, I think it is best to speak of justification and sanctification being given sultaneously in union with Christ. I don’t have any great quibble with Westminster West’s way of putting it. I’m sure that they would affirm that one cannot be justified without at once being sanctified. True justification is inseparable with true sanctification. The difference is that milli-second…

It seems to me that what union with Christ does for the Westminster East folks, covenant does in this book. Covenant is what joins together the duplex gratia in Olevian’s theology (according to Clark, pp. 139-140). I wonder if this might be the place where Westminster East and West might be able to meet: is not union with Christ an integral, nay, definitional part of the substance of the covenant? If so, then there might very well be a place where they could meet together and agree.

Interview With Mark Garcia

The differences between WTS and WSC are very interesting to discuss. And Mark Garcia is a strong proponent of the WTS version, which states that Calvin’s duplex gratia stems from his doctrine of union with Christ. Listen to this interview with him.

On a Proper View of Incarnational Christology

My good friend Lane Tipton (professor of Systematic Theology at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia) has written a very fine piece on Incarnational Christology. If you read footnote 4 carefully, you will find some counterpoint to Bruce McCormack’s attack on the Field Committee Report at WTS.

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