ESCHATOLOGY (THE FINAL THINGS IN HISTORY)

One of the salient things in Christian theology is that of eschatology, i.e. the doctrine of the final things.  Another way of putting it would be the end of history as we know it.  As in its parent religion, Judaism, in Christianity there is the notion and belief that things as they are will come to an end, and that we will live in a "happily ever after."  This might correspond to the Marxian view of a "workers paradise," in which there will be a "permanent jubilee."  

How do we then account for the various eschatological perspectives that we have in the Christian community?  Each tradition claims to be based on "what the Bible says."  Having said that, what complicates this is that there are a variety of biblical hermeneutics (interpretations) which in turn lead to a variety of conclusions.  Each tradition has its own chronology as to how history as we know it will come to an end. 

The particular hermeneutic that we subscribe to will depend on the lens through which we read Scripture and the historic Christian traditions.  Some of us read them through the lens of our particular denominational theology, while others of us read them through the lens of the various branches of human knowledge, and more specifically, the social sciences.  And then there are some of us that read them through our life experiences, both individual and collective.  

Eschatology has traditionally been defined as the doctrine of the last things.  It appeared in the final chapter in the classic systems of dogmatics under the heading "de novissimis" in Latin and "ta eschata" in Greek texts.  This dogmatic locus dealt with events that still belong to the future, such as death and resurrection, the last judgment, and the end of the world, eternal damnation (hell) and eternal life (heaven). It covered the future destiny of each individual after death  as well as the final consummation of the world (Carl E. Braaten in "The Kingdom of God and Life Everlasting."  Christian Theology: An Introduction to Its Traditions and Tasks, eds. Peter C. Hodgson and Robert H. King. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994, p. 328).

In the period of Protestant scholasticism (seventeenth century), the treatment of eschatological topics became petrified in the last chapter of dogmatics.  Karl Barth spoke ironically of this approach as "lulling us to sleep" by adding at the conclusion of his Church Dogmatics a short and perfectly harmless chapter entitled 'Eschatology.' (Karl Barth, Epistle to the Romans, p. 500).

To a large extent, the mainline churches, both Protestant and Roman Catholic, permitted the sects to claim the subject of eschatology as their specialty.  Their literalistic preaching from the Bible about the end of the world has tended to inoculate the mainline bodies of Christianity against this virus of eschatology (Hal Lindsey, The Late Great Planet Earth. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1973).

Eschatology is no longer confined to the concluding chapter of dogmatics as teaching about the last things.  Every theological statement is at the same time an  eschatological statement in the sense that eschatology deals with what is ultimate and to speak of God is to speak of our ultimate concern.  There is a consensus among the various schools of theology that the eschatological perspective is basic to the understanding of the Christian faith.  At the beginning of his long theological career, Barth inaugurated the eschatological renaissance in Christian theology with this striking claim: "Christianity that is not entirely and altogether eschatology has entirely and altogether nothing to do with Christ (Barth, op. cit. p. 314).

Echoing this mandate a half century later, Jurgen Moltmann insisted: The eschatological is not one element of Christianity, but the medium of Christian faith as such. Hence eschatology cannot really be only a part of Christian doctrine.  Rather, the eschatological outlook is characteristic of all Christian proclamation, of every Christian existence, and of the whole church (Jurgen Moltmann, Theology of Hope, p. 16).

One of the problems of biblical interpretation has been that of finding the thread of continuity that ties the two testaments of the Bible together.  Since the awakening of the eschatological perspective in theology, it has become evident that the people of God, from the days of Israel in the Old Testament to the period of the Church in the New, have moved forward in history in expectation of future salvation, however much this expectation was always founded on historical events in which God had intervened in the past (Braaten, op. cit., p. 330).

In the Old Testament the coming of eschatological salvation was announced in different terms, for example, the day of Yahweh, the day of judgment, the coming of the Messiah, the reign of God, and the new Jerusalem.  The eschatology of Israel underwent a continual process of change and development.  Originally Israel held a predominantly this-worldly eschatology; its vision of the promised future belonged to this world of space and time.  This is the case with early prophetic eschatology. The prophets expected a coming paradise on Earth.  The coming reign, which Yahweh was to establish for His people, enjoyed the same material reality as the promised land.  It would be a land flowing with "milk and honey."  The faithful remnant of Israel would be drawn to the holy mountain  as their dwelling place.  There is no specific hope for Heaven or life after death.  Salvation will be something to see, the earth will be extremely fruitful, people will be inwardly renewed, society will become righteous, and the nations will rest at peace.  Israel, the least of the nations, will be exalted above all the others, provided the people remain faithful to the covenant (Ibid., pp. 330-331),

The Christian revision of Jewish apocalyptic eschatology was determined by the modifications which Jesus of Nazareth effected through His preaching of the Reign of God and the double ending of His life: His death on the cross and His resurrection to a new form of being.  The central motif of Jesus's message was the coming of the reign of God.  The eschatological rule of God which Jesus preached was the power determining both the content of His message and the activities of His ministry. However, there is no consensus among contemporary theologians on how to interpret Jesus's expectation of the Reign of God.  Did Jesus think of the Reign of God as something otherworldly and future (traditional orthodoxy)?  Or did He think of it as something otherworldly and present (Karl Barth and dialectical theology)?  Or did He think of it as something this-worldly and  present (Rudolf Bultmann) and existentialist theology)?  Or as something this-worldly and future (Christian Marxism and Liberation Theology)?  Perhaps there is an element of truth in all these viewpoints, each forming one facet of a multidimensional vision of the Reign of God (Ibid., p. 332). 

What is the "correct" eschatological perspective?  A lot depends on who one asks.  My own response would be that there is no one inerrant, infallible, or perfect eschatology.  We cannot afford to treat any one particular eschatological hermeneutic as "Heaven-sent." We can spend our entire lives cherry picking Scripture verses and elements of the Christian tradition, and yet never arrive at a consensus.  The perspective that we adhere and subscribe to will in turn determine the form and shape of both our ecclesiastical form of government, and also how we carry on the ministry of Christ in the world.  As with all other branches of Christian theology, the construction of eschatology or eschatologies will be a continuous one.  One can only remain active in this world in the arenas of evangelism and social justice, and continue to pray "Even so, come Lord Jesus."

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Rev. Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Past Visiting Professor of Theology 

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

 

              HOW ARE THE HOLY SPIRIT AND THE CHRISTIAN LIFE RELATED?

The Christian life has been regarded from the beginning as a following of Jesus.  Erstwhile Christians have ever been invited to step into the shoes of that first band of followers, twelve of whom He explicitly chose to be carriers of the Word-apostles.  Indeed, we may surmise that the role they play in the Gospel accounts was shaped with an eye to later followers: their humble origins; their persistent inability to get the point; the impetus desire to share in His lot, followed by their disappearance at the critical moment. And the Gospel of John reminds us how, in being called to follow Him, we are not merely being conscripted into His service, but are rather invited to become His friends (David Burrell in "The Spirit and the Christian Life."  Christian Theology: An Introduction to Its Traditions and Tasks, eds. Peter C Hodgson and Robert H. King.  Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994, p. 302)

An invitation to friendship with divinity taxes our credulity, so much that to accept it is to believe Christianly.  That seemingly impossible barrier being breached, it is a relatively small step to speak about intimacy with God-both as individuals and as a people, for this God has already acknowledged delight in being with us.  The capacity to of divinity to delight in us creates in its turn an entirely new dimension of receptivity in us.  This new person, this self-transformed, is itself a sign of the promise as he or she displays a new-found familiarity with God as well as a correlative capacity for receiving and forgiving one's fellows.  The promise of a relation between God and ourselves, which has the qualities and potentialities for friendship, opens up similarly new possibilities among ourselves (Ibid.) 

That is the character of the promise offered to humanity in Jesus.  That promise might best be called faith, if we were to understand  faith as naming a new mode of life which is a new way of relating to God (Wilfred Cantwell Smith, Faith and Belief. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979).

We are informed in Scripture that if any person be in Christ, that they are new creatures.  The role of the Holy Spirit as the agent of that renewal is alluded to in the Scriptures of the New Testament and in the traditions of the Church.  The Gospel according to John, and the letters of the Apostle Paul speak to the renewed life for those who are in Christ.  

The doctrine of the Spirit interacts with at least three established sectors of Christian theology: 1.  that of grace and sacramental life, 2. that of church and ministry, and 3. the distinctively Christian treatment of God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit (Creator, Liberator, and Sustainer).  By reminding ourselves that at the outset how the Christian life must be conceived as a response to divine initiative, we have underscored the primary element in the doctrine of the Spirit.  Since we can hope to understand that initiative, however, only by scrutinizing the how Christians have deemed it appropriate to respond, we concern ourselves with with outlining and analyzing the characteristic forms which that response has taken since the momentous celebration of Pentecost in Jerusalem (Burrell, op. cit., p. 304).  

Are we to understand the role of the Spirit in the life of the individual Christian and in the life of the Church as a whole, an initial action which elicits the human response, or are we to understand it as the volitional response to the initiatory work of the Holy Spirit in our lives, both individually and collectively?  That would all depend on whether one's theology of the Spirit and the Christian life follows the Pauline-Agustinian-Calvinistic thread of theology in which it is believed that human nature is incapable of responding to the divine initiative because it is "dead in trespasses and sin," or whether one follows the Arminian thread of theology in which it is believed that as humans we have the ability to voluntarily embrace or reject the initiative of the Holy Spirit.  

This particular doctrine, just like all other doctrines in Christian theology, is "under construction."  Because the hermeneutics (interpretations) surrounding it vary, and because the spring or sources of hermeneutics are varied (experience, Scripture, tradition), it is subject to fluctuation.  

The theology of the Spirit and the Christian life will continued to be explored and expressed in a variety of ways in the days to come.  The impact of the various branches of human knowledge, i.e. the humanities and the natural and social sciences, will continue to inform and shape our theological perspectives, and the lens through which we interpret and understand these doctrines.  

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Rev. Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Reformed Church in America 

Past Visiting Professor of Theology

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

                                           THE DOCTRINE OF THE SACRAMENTS 

Given the variety of theological expressions in the Christian Church, I will say that the doctrine of the Sacraments is a very complex one.  In the Catholic and Orthodox sectors of Christianity, there are a variety of sacraments.  In Protestantism, both mainline and "non-denominational," the Sacraments are broken down into two.  What complicates biblical theology about the Sacraments, is that every sector of the Church has a different biblical hermeneutic, i.e. different interpretations and understands of "what the Bible says," about the Sacraments and about everything else.  

While in no way invalidating the notion of the Sacraments in the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox traditions, I will limit myself to talking about the two Sacraments as understood and practiced in the Protestant churches.  And I will note, that even within the Protestant traditions, there are a variety of understands and perspectives as to the meaning of the Sacraments.

I begin by noting some general things about the Sacraments.  I will talk about the Sacraments in historical perspective, how we got to where we are, and where we are now.

Sacrament is the name given to certain specific rites of the Christian churches.  Of the major denominations, only the Quakers (Society of Friends) and the Salvation Army make no use of sacraments, but for all others, there are at least two, baptism and the Lord's Supper (Holy Communion).  According to both the  contemporary and Eastern Orthodox churches there are seven sacraments: baptism and the Lord's Supper (Eucharist), but also Confirmation, Penance, Extreme Unction, ordination, and matrimony.  Orthodox attaches less importance to the precise numbers than does the Roman tradition, which under assault from the Protestant Reformers, fixed the number at seven at the seventh session of the Council of Trent in 1547 (Stephen W. Sykes in "The Sacraments."  Christian Theology: An Introduction to Its Traditions and Tasks.  Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994, p. 274).

Does the number of sacraments matter?  Modern theology has come to think that the reasons that led Roman Catholics and Protestants to be so certain and vehement in their rival enumerations are far from cogent.  On the other hand, the Church developed in the course of its history a very large number of rituals, some local, some universal or nearly so; but only some these rituals is the claim made that they are sacraments.  If sacraments are a special class of ritual, there must be something by which they are distinguished.  If sacraments are a special class of ritual, there must be something by which they are distinguished.  Enumerating them is the consequence of knowing what sets these rituals apart (Ibid.).

It is no presupposed that the number of the sacraments is known for certain.  Indeed, it will be shown that one cannot a definition of "sacrament," but must, rather, attend to the history of the arguments which have raged to and fro about what a sacrament really might be.  At the same time, if any Christian rites are correctly said to be sacraments, then baptism and the Lord's Supper are the least disputable examples. Therefore, in introducing the theology of the sacraments, these two sacraments  will be used as instances (Ibid.).

Scholastic theologians of the medieval period developed a distinction, which survives in Roman Catholic handbooks of theology to this day, between sacramental theology in general, and the theology of the particular sacraments.  The essence of a sacrament could be known, and each particular sacrament would then be presented as an example of the general nature of sacrament.  If we are to speak of the sacraments at all, then it is of baptism and the Lord's Supper that we speak with most assurance.  We proceed, in other words, from the particular sacraments to the possibility that there may be a generalized sacramental theology.  It is not disputable that human beings communicate with each other by external means, rituals, signs, and symbols.  The theological question is, however, what role is to be assigned to which ritual and why.  If we can clarify the answers to these questions in respect of the two generally admitted sacraments, we will be in a better position to say how and why we can and should distinguish between the numerous incidental rituals, which have grown up in the churches over the course of time, and those privileged rites accorded the name of the sacraments (Ibid., pp. 274-275).

The Sacrament of Baptism

Baptism has been understood in the Church as a "washing" ritual, a ritual that washes away original sin and in some cases, the intrinsic sinful nature of humankind.  It was practiced in the Jewish community when Gentile converts embraced the Jewish faith, and together with the rite of circumcision, which placed them under the covenant, represented a putting away of the old pagan practices,  Those Gentiles who embraced Judaism were called "proselytes."

In the Protestant sector of Christianity, baptism has also come to be representative of the new birth in Christ, and a putting away and behind the previous sinful lifestyle.  

NOTE: Some Protestant churches, especially those of the Reformed tradition, have retained the ancient Catholic of infant baptism, though the reasons are much different than what they are in the Catholic and Orthodox traditions.  In Protestant infant baptism, the theology is that baptism replaces circumcision as a sign of the covenant with God, and that at baptism, the child together with her/his family is under the divine covenant.  

The reasons why some Protestant churches carry out their baptismal ritual by immersion rather than by sprinkling or or pouring is two-fold:

1.  One of the translations of the Greek word "baptizdo" is immersion.

2.  Since the New Testament concept of baptism is "burial with Christ," they believe that baptism by immersion best represents this burial and resurrection.

The Sacrament of Holy Communion

In Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy, during the administration of the sacrament by the priest, the bread and the wine are literally converted into the body and blood of Christ.  This doctrine is called "transubstantiation."

In Protestantism, there are various views of what the Communion (or Lord's Supper) is.

1.  Memorial-The churches that practice it this way take literally the words of Jesus "Do this in remembrance of me."

2.  Consubstantiation-This is the belief that the body and blood of Christ are "under" the elements of the bread and the wine. 

3.  Presence-Those who subscribe to this view believe that Christ, through the Holy Spirit, is present, not in the elements, but in the act.  

Like all other aspects of Christian theology, the theology of the Sacraments is something that will always remain in flux rather than become a static doctrine.  The challenge for Christians is to determine how, and if, we can put aside those differences, and come to the point where we can sit together at the Lord's Table, regardless of our view of the meaning of the Sacrament.  

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Rev. Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Reformed Church in America 

Past Visiting Professor of Theology

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

 THE DOCTRINE OF CHRIST AND SALVATION 

Christology (the doctrine of Christ) and soteriology (the doctrine of salvation) are key features of Christian theology.  In many ways they are interlocked.  We cannot separate them in an absolute way, especially as in Christian theology, salvation is impossible without Christ. 

In Scripture, we find several passages that imply that salvation only comes through Christ.  In John 14:6 Jesus Himself says that "no one comes to the Father except through Him."  In the book of Acts we are told that "there is no other name given under Heaven to humankind by which we must be saved." And then the Apostle Paul says that "there is only one Mediator between God and humankind, the man Christ Jesus."  

When we read these passages superficially and without paying attention to the context, we tend to take them literally and at face value.  In other words, the tendency is to take them literally, and to state "the Bible says so and end of story." 

Christology is reflection upon the one whom the Christian community confesses as Lord and Savior.  Historically, this reflection has not been merely a theoretical matter. The effort has  informed the keenest of human interests-the interest in salvation.  It is therefore fitting that soteriology be considered at the same time as Christology (Walter Low, in "Christ and Salvation."  Christian Theology: An Introduction to Its Traditions and Tasks.  Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994, p. 222). 

In testifying to Jesus Christ, the community points to a particular person who lived at a specific time and in a specific place.  This reference gives Christianity its distinctive identity, its specificity. But Christian thought throughout its history has oscillated between questions of identity and questions of relevance (Jurgen Moltmann, The Crucified God. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993, p. 7).

If Christology is located at the first pole, i.e. identity, then soteriology would seem to gravitate to the second pole, that of relevance.  One might say that the role of soteriology is to show why this person Jesus Christ is understood to be significant (Lowe, op. cit. p. 222).

The modern period, however, experienced the polarity as a tension.  Linking soteriology to Christology has seemed to many to be odd and even presumptuous. After all, it amounts to gathering up the most fundamental of human concerns-the concern with salvation, however defined-and linking it, focusing it, and somehow making it contingent upon a Jewish prophet in a minor Roman dependency  some two thousand years ago.  The sense of anomaly and tension this creates is often termed "the scandal of particularity (Ibid.)"

In view of this concern, modern theology has tended to reverse the classic order of the doctrines.  In classic dogmatics, one felt free to begin with Christology and then proceed to soteriology.  One might talk about who Christ is, then about what He has done.  For many in the modern period, however, to begin with Christ seems to presume too much, to risk being irrelevant and if not, intolerant.  Thus modern theologians have generally preferred to start with soteriology, to begin by establishing a common ground with their audience on the basis of common humanity.  It has been said, after all, and only in half jest, that sin is the one Christian doctrine which can be empirically verified.  And if sin should seem too harsh a term to serve as a point of contact, one may speak in a more positive vein, invoking the human search for peace and meaning.  Whatever the particulars, this pattern of argument appears and reappears  throughout the modern period in the rhetoric of conservative preaching no less than in the proposals of liberal revision. In this broad sense the modern temperament has been preoccupied with apologetics-depicting some human need or experience, then speaking of salvation in relation to that need or experience, and finally presenting Jesus Christ as the one through whom salvation comes (Ibid., pp. 222-223).

We are then, faced with the question of which comes first between the chicken and the egg.  Do we begin with the person of Christ, or do we begin with the work of Christ?  Do we confine and limit God's liberating and salvific work in human history to the incarnated Christ of Bethlehem, or do we see Christ in more cosmic terms, not limited to dogmatic propositions? 

Few would deny the fruitfulness of the modern strategy.  Further, one may claim on its behalf that it simply brings to light a method already implicit within the classic Christologies. The best of the tradition, as has been noted, was never merely theoretical; it was animated from first to last by a deep soteriological interest.  At the same time, however, the shape of theology does make a difference.  To reverse  the classic paradigm generally entails a reinterpreting of content as well.  When the soteriological interest is converted into a topic of reflection in its own right and becomes itself a sort of doctrine (and a decisive one at that), then the modern approach, produces problems of its own (Lowe, op. cit., p. 223)

The whole issue of Christology hinges on the following two questions:

1.  What do we mean by the term "salvation?"  Are we referring to something that happens in the "hereafter," or is it something that happens in the "here and now?" 

2.  Is the Christ of Scripture a Christ who is restricted to the dogma and theology of the Christian Church or is the Christ of Scripture a cosmic and universal Christ who transcends all religious dogma and religious belief?

As a theologian who subscribes to Liberation Theology, I believe that salvation (deliverance and liberation) is something that occurs within history, and entails liberation from colonial, economic, political, and social bondage.  I also believe that God's liberating and salvific work in human history is not limited to preparing us for the "hereafter," but rather includes the element of the "yet/not yet" of God's reign through Christ.  Jesus Himself, on one occasion said, "If I by the finger of God, cast out demons, then the reign of God is among you."  

How Christology and soteriology are conceived and developed, will be something that will go along with the continuous construction of our theological systems.

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Past Visiting Professor of Theology 

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

                                THE DOCTRINE OF SIN AND EVIL 

When we approach the issue of sin, there are many questions surrounding it.  We may ask, "Just exactly what is sin?"  We may also ask, "What constitutes sin?" 

In the Christian community, the notion of "sin" varies from one segment of the Church to another.  Some churches believe that sin is the abrogation and violation of those rules and regulations found in Scripture.  Other churches believe that sin includes a violation of their doctrines, dogmas, and traditions, even if not directly alluded to in Scripture.  Some churches believe that to merely drop out of the community constitutes sin. Other churches believe that to have fellowship with other churches that don't subscribe to their doctrine is a sin.  And so the list goes on.  

We examine sin in the light of what it may have meant and was conceived of in the early Christian community, and also how it is conceived of today.  This is not, in any way, intended to promote the notion that we are free to discard ancient notions of sin and replace them with contemporary notions of sin, or that we are "free" to decide what is or what isn't sin.  

When we look at the issue of sin, we get into what may sound like a circular question.  For example, do we say that adultery is sin because the Bible says so, or does the Bible say so because it is a sin?  If our response is the latter, then we have to define what constituted such and such to be a sin prior to the writing of the Bible.  

The doctrine of sin and evil occupies a somewhat anomalous position in Christian doctrine.  On the one hand, there is no positively stated orthodox doctrine of sin comparable to the doctrines of the Trinity and of Christology.  The ancient church agreed with Augustine that certain views of sin and evil are incompatible with Christian faith.  Accordingly, the church condemned the Manichean heresy for its theological pessimism, and the Pelagian heresy for its anthropological optimism concerning evil.  But the church stopped short of officially adopting Augustine's own positive formulation of original sin.  Instead, it came closer to adopting his teachings concerning grace.  Yet the doctrines of redemption presuppose some concept of the human condition, including responsibility for evil.  There is, as Augustine well knew, a systematic connection between the concept of salvation and the concept of sin, so that neither concept can be formulated in complete separation from the other.  Consequently, while the church did not officially adopt Augustine's teaching concerning sin, his formulation of the doctrine of original sin has been highly influential-so much so that it can almost be said to have attained semiofficial standing (Robert R. Williams in "Sin and Evil." Christian Theology: An Introduction to Its Traditions and Tasks.  Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994, p. 194)

One of the questions regarding sin is one that is related to the nature of humankind.  Are we, as a result of the sin of our first parents born in sin so that it is not possible not to sin, or are we capable of avoiding sin altogether?  Is the notion of original sin a heresy, or is it compatible with Scriptural revelation?  

In modern secular culture, moreover, the Christian concept of sin has been eclipsed and virtually displaced.  Secular culture perceives evil no longer as a theological problem but rather as a problem of human institutional and social arrangements.  Divine aid is felt to be either unnecessary or not among the real possibilities available to resolve the problem.  Instead, evil calls for intelligent human action.  There are present in modern culture, however, quite different views concerning the meaning and result of human actions. Some take a rather optimistic view in which the problem of evil is capable of human management and therefore amenable to control.  Science and technology are regarded as the instruments by means of which we eventually eliminate evil as a problem.  Whether evil is seen as a resistance of nature to human manipulation and exploitation or as a recalcitrance on the part of human beings to social planning and conditioning, it is at least viewed as a "problem" which will sooner or later yield to an appropriate technological "solution."  So runs the "myth of progress" (Williams, op. cit. p. !95). 

So, en fin, we ask the question as to whether the doctrine of sin should continue to be a concern of the church, tilling its own internal garden, or should we allow the sway of secularism to define what at one time may have been the domain of the church?  Do we subscribe to the philosophical notion of "sin" being our failure and refusal to live up to our potential?  Should we define "Sin in sociological terms whereas sin is a violation of a social contract, and a violation of the social consensus? 

As time move on, the church will be faced with the options to define for itself what is the nature of sin, or whether to allow society to define it for us.  The "give and take," and the "push and pull" between the church and the society will continue until the end of history as we know it. 

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Rev. Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Past Visiting Professor of Theology 

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

 THEOLOGICAL ANTHROPOLOGY: THE DOCTRINE OF HUMANKIND 

One of the areas of Christian thought focuses  on humankind, i.e. its origin and nature.  A theological view of humankind may or may not resonate with other views in other branches of human knowledge, especially the scientific branches.  Theology attempts to view humankind in terms of its relationship to God.  

Theology views humankind as a creation of God, and not merely a result of spontaneous or sporadic occurrences in nature.  Humankind is conceived (at least in the Judeo-Christian tradition) to have been made in "the image and likeness of God."  In some respects, humankind is deemed to be stewards of God on Earth.  At other points in human history, humankind is deemed to be an agent of God in history, i.e. carrying out God's intentions and will for the human race, and in some respects, the planet as whole.

As a distinct topic, "theological anthropology" is relatively new to the theologian's agenda.  It is a doctrine about "human nature" or what it is to be a "person."  Christian thinkers have always had things to say on that topic, of course, but for most of the history of Christian thought, they have said it in and with discussion of other topics. Thus they have always made claims about human beings as part of creation, about human beings' ability to know God, about the "fallenness" and "sin" of human beings, about the dynamics by which people are "redeemed" from that sin and made new beings, and about the ultimate destiny to which they are called.  Each of these was a theological topic in itself.  In the process of of discussing these matters, theologians traded on conceptual schemes designed to describe what it is to be a human being, what it is to be the sort of being of whom all those things concerning creation, revelation, sin, and so on, were claimed (David H. Kelsey, "Human Being," in Christian Theology: An Introduction to  It's Traditions and Tasks.  Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994, p. 167).

Theological anthropology in the narrow or strict sense has tended to focus on either or both of two major guiding questions: (1) What is it about human beings that makes it possible for them in the finitude to know the infinite God? (2) What is it about human beings that makes fallenness possible in such a radical way as to require the redemption to which Christianity witnesses?  In the classical theological tradition, these questions were addressed not directly in and of themselves, but in the process of other topics.  Theological anthropology became a topic in its own right only in the modern period.  And perhaps not by accident, the basic conceptual scheme used to analyze humankind changed radically.  As we shall see, what had been in the classic tradition an often implicit discussion of "human nature, became in the modern period an explicit discussion of "subjectivity."  What is the significance of this shift is what we seek to explore in this essay (Ibid.).

A relevant question relative to theological anthropology is "Why do we need to distinguish humankind from the rest of creation?"   If according to science, we are part of the animal kingdom, why do we need to be differentiated from the rest of that kingdom?  If, we as human beings experience fallenness and redemption, does the rest of the animal kingdom also experience those?  If we, as human beings are made in "the image and likeness of God," can we claim the same for the rest of the animal kingdom?  If so, why do we apparently place greater value on the life of humankind than what we do with the rest of the animal kingdom?  

If the religious and theological view of humankind is different from the scientific view of humankind, does that then mean that one is right and the other is wrong?  Do we uphold one and discard the other, or can the two views coexist side by side?  Does either view need to be demythologized?  

I personally, as a theologian submit that the scientific views of humankind do not necessarily have to be regarded as an enemy of the theological perspective.  Since both scientific and theological views are human constructs, they both have elements of truth, and they both have their limitations.

The classic formulation of theological anthropology was largely based on the story of the creation and the fall of humankind in Genesis 1-3, interpreted, at times, through conceptual schemes borrowed from Greek philosophical traditions.  The focus was on Adam and Eve, who were understood in a double way. On the one hand, they were taken to be the historically first individual human beings.  On the other hand, they were taken, to be the scriptural ideal type or paradigm of "human nature" as such (after all, the Hebrew word from which "Adam" comes is the generic term for humankind).  It is not logically necessary that the first human beings should also be normative for what it is to be human.  The assumption that they are creates a problem: Ideal types are highly general.  Which features of the concrete Adam and Eve, as described in the Genesis story, are part of the ideal type that is normative for human nature. And, by what principle does one select them (Kelsey, op. cit., p. 168)?

The view of human nature generated by this story had two major themes: (1) A picture of the place that human nature has in the unchanging structure of the cosmos that God created and (2) a picture of humankind's unique capacity for communion with God-what has traditionally been called the "imago die (image of God)" (Ibid.).

If our view of humankind in its original, and subsequent fallen state, is based on the Genesis narrative, then we must ask if take a literalist approach to this narrative, or do we take into consideration the variety of literary genres that we encounter in Scripture.  Do we take the view of humankind in Scripture as allegory, history, legend, myth, or what?  Do we in essence, take the Scriptures to be a document of faith or a mere literary document?  

Theological anthropology may be able to deal with persons in their genuine concreteness  by a second "turn" from the person as patients or subjects of consciousness to persons as agents.  There are at least two different kinds of movements that may promise a new turn to the agents.  On one side, in Liberation Theology, and other political theologies, we find that the Marxist tradition lurking in the background, either informing and influencing Christian analyses of the human predicament and God's engagement in it, or being influenced in turn,  by these theological perspectives.  These movements have not yet perhaps fully articulated the conceptual schemes on which they rely. But it is already evident how much they depend on an analysis of personhood in which the concept "praxis" is central, a concept that focuses on persons as agents before they are are subjects of consciousness, taken precisely in their concrete material contexts.  Second, there is a revival in Anglo-American philosophical theology of a modest art of metaphysics that tries to sketch a conceptual scheme central to which is an analysis of "action" and of persons as "agents."  This too is a varied phenomenon, no single school of thought at all, and certainly not yet the fount of a highly articulated set of proposals.  But like the first movement, it promises to be fertile for new constructive proposals of better ways in which to elucidate the Christian witness to the liberating and humanizing effect of personal dependence on God (Kelsey, op. cit., p. 193). 

En fin, we are left with the question "Who has the right view of humankind?"  Even if we say that the theological view of humankind is more "correct" than the scientific view, we still have to contend with the variety of hermeneutical principles in Christian theology relative to human nature.  Each Christian community has its own biblical and theological hermeneutic which leads it to have its particular view of what and who is humankind.  Do we rely on the view that humankind is created in an original state of holiness and uprightness, and then fallen into sin?  Do we subscribe to the liberal view that human nature is intrinsically good? Do we buy into the notion of Christian realism that leads us to believe that by education, we can bring about the perfect society?  These, just like other questions of theological consideration, will be ongoing in the construction of theology.  Because we are not "seers," we cannot predict with precision whether or not there will ever be a consensus on the nature and destiny of humankind.  We continue to live with the questions.

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Rev. Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Past Professor of Theology 

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

 THE DOCTRINE OF CREATION AND PROVIDENCE 

One of the main issues in Christian theology is that of the question of "how did it all begin?"  We could easily relate to the questions of "what happened" and "who were the key players in all of this?"

When I served as a professor of Latin American history and religion at Boricua College in Brooklyn, New York, one of the first questions that I would pose to my students when I met with them was the question of  "Como fue que comenzo el bochinche (How did the gossip begin)?"  In fact, that question was presented to me by one of my students from a country in Central America, a country whose history he knew much about.  He explained to me in his own words how we got to the present situation in Latin America.  He was very well-versed in the history of his own country, and that of Latin America as a whole as well.  It was a question that described the seeds of historical narrative.

We find the same thing in the Hebrew/Christian Scriptures regarding the origins of the earth and supposedly the beginning of human history.  I say "supposedly" because the Hindu Scriptures were written thousands of years before the Hebrew/Christian Scriptures, and they contained creation narratives of their own, albeit in a speculative manner.  

Both the author of Genesis and the writer of the Gospel according to John start with the words, "In the beginning."  They point to a certain point in time as to when all things came into being, though that particular point in time is not specifically spelled out.  

Jewish/Christian theology posits the person of God as being present "in the beginning," whenever that was. The Scriptures of both religion point to God as the originator of being, of life, and of history.  The narratives of Scripture correspond in some way to the notion of God as the "ground of being." 

Traditional Christian beliefs about the divine origin, governance, and final disposition of the world were for many centuries foundational components of the dominant world view in Christian culture. Residues of these beliefs can be found today in various places, in arguments advanced by the pro-life camp in the abortion controversy, for instance, and in such quasi-religious sentiments as "Life is a gift" and "Things tend to work out for good in the long run."  But the powerful convictions once expressed in traditional formulations of the doctrines of creation and providence do not now have a vivid and compelling life in the churches.  In secular thought the convictions and the doctrines have been in deep recession for centuries (Julian N. Hart, "Creation and Providence," in Christian Theology: An Introduction to its Traditions and Tasks.  Peter C. Hodgson and Robert H. King, eds. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994, p. 141).

One cause of the inclusive decline is to be found in a tendency of the doctrines to distort or obscure the convictions and passions of the religious life.  But many important elements of doctrine and conviction have been powerfully challenged, if not overthrown, by views inspired by modern science.  The traditional teaching of the doctrine of creation is that the world as a whole had an absolute beginning: before creation nothing but God existed; everything begins when God said "Let there be."  Modern scientific theories concerning the origin of the physical universe have virtually nothing in common with traditional Christian teachings.  The life sciences offer explanations of the origin and development of human beings which are strictly incompatible with historic creation.  So also for the doctrine of providence.  The theological tradition holds the view that events great and small, cosmic and historical, faultlessly operate to serve a divine ordination.  This exaltation of purpose-controlling-indeed defining-every entity and every set of entities in the cosmic spread funds afoul of the decision made very early in the modern world, and powerfully reinforced at critical junctures thereafter, to drop the category of purpose altogether from scientific explanation.  So the conviction that God the Creator has oriented human beings toward a perfectly fulfilled good beyond nature and history, and makes all things conspire to this end, has fallen into a deep and persistent recession-but not simply because the facts, none of which is more appalling to than the Holocaust, ruinously assault the Christian view.  It is also because hardly any large and potent intellectual current in the modern world seems to support Christian teaching about providence (Ibid., pp. 141-142).

An issue which I sincerely and strongly believe is both apropos and relevant to this discourse is that of literary dependency.  So for example, we have those who believe that  the Babylonian account of Creation served as the basis for the Creation narrative in the book of Genesis.  So, the question could be, "Did the author of Genesis 'borrow from' or 'copy' from the Babylonian account of Creation (Enuma Elish) in order to compose the Genesis narrative of Creation?"  Was there literary dependency on the part of the Genesis author?  Because of the similarities in both narratives, the person who examines the Bible exclusively in its literary composition and not as an "inspired, inerrant, or infallible" document would tend to believe that there is indeed, literary dependency on the part of the Genesis author.  

As a theologian who is not a biblical "literalist," I would say that whether the biblical account of Creation is more authentic than the Babylonian account of Creation, or whether the writer of Genesis actually borrowed from the Babylonian account, the important thing is for us in this day and age to decipher both the meaning and of the value of the biblical account of Creation, and also what is the theological significance in the narrative.  Theology, in my humble, but informed view does not have to depend on a literal reading or exposition of the Scriptural narrative in order to convey a message of truth and value to its readers.  The truth of Scripture and theology do not hinge on biblical literalism.

To be continued. 

In the name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen! 

Rev. Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Reformed Church in America 

Past Visiting Professor of Theology 

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

                                      ISSUES AND PROPOSALS REGARDING THE DOCTRINE 

                                      OF REVELATION 

In the first half of the twentieth century, the doctrine of revelation became such a prominent feature on the theological landscape that questions began to be raised as to whether modern theology did not suffer from an "inflation of revelation."  Questions were also raised about the intelligibility of the new interpretations of revelation.  If modern theologians emphasized revelation only in order to sidestep the critical questions of the Enlightenment and to affirm an objective basis for faith, then some critics questioned whether revelation could serve as a foundational principle and the basis for further theological reflection (Troup, op. cit., p.134).

Questions have also been raised as to whether the modern concepts of revelation have basis whatsoever in the Hebrew Scriptures or the New Testament.  Although most contemporary interpretations of revelation are concerned with what can be said about God, they are even more concerned with how it is possible to speak intelligibly of "God."  This may not have been an urgent problem for the writers of Scripture, but it is an urgent problem for theologians who recognize the historicity of human understanding and the cultural relativity of all human assertions. Most of the major proposals in contemporary theology concerning the interpretation of revelation include not only a foundation for knowledge about God, but also and most importantly, a hermeneutical description of how revelation takes place (Ibid.).

Because of the emphasis on hermeneutics in contemporary interpretations of revelation, it seems that future descriptions of revelation will focus on the historicity of human understanding and the role of Scripture and tradition in the Christian community as the locus for revelation.  If revelation were interpreted in this context, special attention would have to be given to the importance of history for an understanding of human identity and the crucial role of memory in the construction of personal identity. The life, language, and texts of the community would be seen as the medium for revelation, with the hermeneutical encounter occurring in the collision between personal identity and the language (or tradition) of the community.  The emerging discussion of narrative theology offers at least one proposal for how revelation might be interpreted in these terms (Ibid.).  

In narrative theology, revelation refers to that process in which the personal identities of individuals are reinterpreted and transformed by the means of the narratives which gave the Christian community its distinctive identity.  What might be called "Christian narrative" is the confessional narrative that results from the collision between an individuals's personal identity narrative and the narrative identity of the Christian community.  A narrative theology developed in this manner properly recognizes  that the identities of persons and communities cannot be separated from an interpretation of their respective histories, and that in most cases, it is the narrative identity of the community (articulated in its Scripture and traditions) which provides the context for the interpretation of personal identity (Ibid., pp. 134-135). 

In essence, what we have been encountering in this discourse is the issue of divine revelation and our response as humans to that revelation.  As pointed out several times, hermeneutics plays a large role in that response.  God reveals, humankind responds in a variety of ways.

Another issue is that of personal identity vs. communal identity.  We might respond to divine revelation individually by saying "I believe," or "I think." The historical creeds such as the Apostle's Creed and the Nicene Creed begin with the words "I believe," and yet they are designed to express and reflect the beliefs of the Church as a communal entity.  

How do we integrate communal and individual identities in responding to divine revelation?  Do we make room for individuals running amok and expressing what they believe to be the right response to divine revelation, or do we assert the communal "take" on divine revelation to be the "binding" one?  If we overemphasize the individual narrative, we run the risk of having a variety of hermeneutical perspectives.  On the other hand, if we overemphasize the communal narrative, we run the risk of the individuals in that community becoming automatons, just parroting and regurgitating the "party line." 

The issue of divine revelation, just like the other doctrines of Christian theology have their challenges.  We continue to meet those challenges with candor and honesty.  We do not bury our heads in the sand, pretending that those challenges are not there.  We face them in the face of history, as we seek to decipher how we apply  and practice in our time "the faith once delivered to the saints."  

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Rev. Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Past Visiting Professor of Theology

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

             HOW PEOPLE RESPOND TO NEW TRENDS 

It goes without saying that every time there is a new movement of thought, whether it be in the realm of philosophy or theology, that there are reactions and responses.  Thought trends always elicit responses, whether in the form of public outrage, or in quiescent meditation and reflection.

George Stroup the following:  

In the nineteenth century, several reinterpretations of revelation were offered in response to the impasse created by the Enlightenment.  Two appeared in the first third of the century and overshadowed subsequent discussions of revelation.  The first was the theology of Friedrich Schleirmacher, who argued in the Christian Faith that doctrines are reflections of the piety that emerges from the experience of redemption in the Christian community.  Christian piety articulates the experience of redemption as it is lived in the church and attributed to Jesus Christ, the founder of of the community.  By making the experience of redemption the basis for theological reflection, Schleirmacher  proposed a new foundation and method for the critical explication of the Christian faith.  Neither knowing nor doing but that form of feeling Christians refer to as "redemption" became the basis for theology.  Schleirmacher's turn to the experience of redemption created a new theological paradigm which escaped the the Kantian critique of classical metaphysics and theology, and also suggested a new interpretation of the meaning of revelation (Troup, p. 127).

In essence, what we have here is witnessing how new approaches to theology, and to revelation in particular, began to emerge.  The notion of an "unfiltered" divine revelation was called into question.

In the introduction to his major theological work, Schleirmacher denied that revelation has primarily to do with intellectual assent to revealed truths, since that would imply that revelation can be limited to the cognitive dimension of human existence. He readily acknowledged that revelation leads to the formulation of doctrines; nevertheless, he contended that that revelation refers primarily not to the apprehension of propositions but to the "originality of the fact which lies at the foundation of a religious communion."  This original fact shapes the life of the community and "cannot itself be explained by the historical chain which precedes it (Friedrich Schleirmacher, The Christian Faith, p. 50).

We stop at this point to ask the question as to whether revelation is something which is divinely initiated or humanly generated claiming to be "from God?"  All sectors of the Christianity (Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant with all its variations) claim in one way or the other that revelation is divinely initiated, i.e. that God initiates the process of self-disclosure.  

Then we deal with the hermeneutical question, i.e. is our hermeneutics (interpretation) also divinely initiated?  Another way of posing this question would be to ask if our interpretation of divine revelation is the interpretation that God intended and wants us to have, or is hermeneutics a humanly generated response to the divinely generated self-disclosure?  

Given the fact that there are a variety of hermeneutical perspectives, we cannot make the claim or pretend that any one particular perspective is the "correct one."  Indeed, there are many who will claim that their particular hermeneutic was "revealed" to them by God as a way of shutting down all other hermeneutical perspectives.  

Insistence on the authority of a particular hermeneutical perspective reflects human arrogance and presumptuousness.  One can claim that the Catholic Church's Magisterium is the depository of the true hermeneutics, or that the Protestant churches, with their emphasis on "Sola Scriptura" have the "correct" hermeneutics, but in the final analysis, the claim to the inerrancy or infallibility of a particular hermeneutic is culturally-conditioned.  Theology is tentative and "in progress."  Revelation is absolute, authoritative, and final, but human response is always tentative.

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Rev. Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Past Visiting Professor of Theology 

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

THE HOSTILITY BETWEEN THE ENLIGHTENMENT AND THE DOCTRINE OF REVELATION 

I think that it is safe to say that in the early years of Judaism, Christianity, and even Islam, the notion of divine revelation was somewhat taken for granted.  In other words, we don't find too many, if any at all, references to hostility between the faith community's claim to divine revelation through Scripture, tradition, and experience, on the one hand, and on the other, opposing forces that would fight to negate the claim to revelation.  It was basically assumed, that the claim to divine revelation was more than a claim, i.e. that it was a reality not to be questioned or challenged.

George Stroup points out that in the seventeenth through the nineteenth century, the belief in divine revelation came under attack.  Subsequently, the notion that theology was a "revealed religion," came under attack and scrutiny.  The notion of a "revealed religion" came to be replaced by the belief in the human origins of religion and theology.

The period from the seventeenth through the nineteenth centuries marks a watershed in the interpretation of revelation.  During this period, several developments occurred to create an intellectual climate in which it became increasingly difficult to defend the classical models of revelation.  Francis Bacon's discovery of the "new science, " Isaac Newton's formulation of a mathematical physics in which nature is conceived of as a rational and unified order, the emergence of reason as the primary authority for the interpretations of experience, the distrust of tradition and superstition-all these created an environment in which classical theology found its way under attack and on the defensive the dominant intellectual movements of the day. Three developments in this period were especially important for subsequent discussions of revelation: the emphasis given to human reason as the chief interpreter of reality and the final arbiter of conflictual claims, the denial for revealed truths about God (or for that matter, any statements about God), and the discovery of the historical character of human reason and understanding (Troup. op.cit., p.123).

In essence, then, human reason and science were deified, i.e. elevated to the status of inerrancy, and infallibility.  There was, for all effects and purposes, a "dethroning" of revealed religion.  The Scriptures, the traditions, and experience now came to be interpreted through the lens of reason and science.  The notions of inerrancy and infallibility were now transferred from the realm of religion and theology to the realms of reason and science.  And, in the same manner that religion and theology spoke about a universe that was dictated by divine decree, reason and science now came to speak about a universe that was subject to the decrees of reason and science, whatever flaws or shortcomings they may have had. Reason and science became, in essence, the new "Gods."

The content of the classic models of revelation was confined to revealed truths about God.  Although these objective truths could not be known by a human intellect marred by sin, they could be known through the work of the Spirit in illumination or in Scripture.  In these classic models the primary criterion for the interpretation of experience and reality was "revealed" truth.  In the Enlightenment, however, the focus shifted dramatically.  No longer were the revealed truths the final arbiter, now human reason became the final court of appeal for the interpretation of reality.  Even though God remained the "primary substance" in the metaphysics of Rene Descartes, his method began with a search for clear and distinct ideas, a search which had led Descartes to the cogito-the human being's existence as a thinking being-as the primary datum for reflection.  Descartes's significance is not tied to the success of his method or his philosophical proposals; rather, his philosophy represents a benchmark in human thought. Human reason rather than tradition or authority is now to be seen as the ultimate measure of truth (Troup, op. cit. p. 123).

The combined effects of these developments -the authority given to reason,  the redefinition of the limits of reason, and the recognition of the historicity of knowledge and understanding-made it difficult, if not impossible, for any theologian sensitive to the climate of the day to continue to advocate a theology grounded on classical models of revelation.  It is not surprising, therefore, that the overarching concern of theologians in the nineteenth century was to establish a new foundation for Christian theology (Ibid., p. 126).

How, then, do we living in the twenty-first century, deal with the notion of reason vs. revelation?  Many in our time would resist the emphasis given during the Enlightenment period for the simple reason that this climate was generated in Western Europe.  And because of the claims of Western Europe's claims and pretenses to define its "truth" in universal terms, the opposite reaction is to negate the claims, i.e. invalidate them or making them "irrelevant" to the world outside of Europe.  The reaction, becomes, then, a visceral one, with a tone of anti-intellectualism.  Experience and revelation tend to be equated with "feel good" emotions and in some cases, the elevation of emotion to the status of ultimate truth. So rather than attempting to prove the existence of God, and subsequent divine revelation through reason and science, the tendency becomes to validate the existence of God based on "I don't see Him, but I feel Him in my soul."  The experience that comes through dreams, frenzies, and visions becomes the ultimate barometer of what is true in Christian theology.  These experiences, rather than interacting with Scripture and tradition, become the "Supreme Court" of Christian theology.  

This essay was not intended to glorify the notion of intellect and  reason vs. emotion and  passion, but rather to pursue a theology which integrates all of these elements into a cohesive whole through which we as believers can live out our spiritual journey.  The dichotomies that have us entrenched in separating them must be replaced by a healthy integration. We must also do away with the binaries of "either/or" in our approach to a responsible theological system.  

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Rev. Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Reformed Church in America 

Past Visiting Professor of Theology 

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

 

THE DOCTRINE OF REVELATION-CONTINUED 

At this point in our discussion, we ask the question of what role do the Scriptures and the Holy Spirit play in God's revelatory acts and self-disclosure?  This is a very important question because historically speaking, in Christian  theology, the Holy Spirit and the Scriptures have always been given prominence.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

In Catholic and Eastern Orthodox theology, the Scripture, together with experience and the traditions of the Church, play a very important role in the formulation of theological systems.  The Scriptures are considered to be the product of the experience (the presence of the Holy Spirit in the Church) and the traditions handed down by the Apostles and their immediate successors.  Subsequently, the notion of "Sola Scriptura" (the Scripture alone as the only rule of faith and practice) is absent in Catholic and Eastern Orthodox theology.  Even the notion of "Prima Scriptura" does not exist in these two communities, because it is believed that experience and tradition, carry equal weight in the theological task of the Church and its ministry in the world

In Protestant theology (both historic and independent churches), Scripture is considered to play the only, or at the very least, the primary rule in the formulation of doctrine and theology, and also as a norm for faith and practice.  The historic (mainline) Protestant churches maintain intact the value of and respect for tradition, but see tradition as subservient to Scripture.  In fact, they believe that tradition derives from Scripture, and subsequently should be evaluated and judged by Scripture.  Independent Protestant churches believe that tradition plays no role in the formulation of doctrine and that theology should be based exclusively on "what the Bible says."  To them, the Bible vitiates the need for tradition.  

George Stroup points out the following regarding the role of Scripture and Spirit in divine revelation:

During the Reformation, subtle but significant shifts took place in the interpretation of revelation.  Both Martin Luther and John Calvin took the position that there is knowledge of God apart from revelation but this knowledge is of little or no consequence.  The general knowledge of God derived from the created order is for all practical purposes useless.  What is decisive is knowledge of God's will for the world, and that cannot be known apart from Jesus Christ (Stroup, op. cit., pp. 119-120).

For Luther the Word of God is Jesus Christ, but we have access to that Word only in the words of proclamation and scripture.  Luther does not simply identify the Word of God with the external of proclamation and scripture, since these words only become God's Word (that is, become revelatory) when the Holy Spirit makes Christ present in them.  The Word of God is both what is revealed to faith and what does the revealing, but the Word can never be separated from the Spirit, since it is the Spirit who enables the external words to become the internal words (Ibid., p. 120).  

The gospel is the living Word of God,  Jesus Christ, and it is this Word which is the sole content, center, and unity of scripture.  This Word is the criterion for determining what is law and what is gospel in scripture, but this external clarity cannot be separated from scripture's internal clarity, which is the illuminating work of the Spirit "required for the understanding of scripture, both as a whole and in any part of it (Martin Luther, "On the Bondage of the Will:, LCC 17:112)

In conclusion, we have seen that Luther, the "architect" of the Protestant Reformation, stresses the role of both Scripture and the Holy Spirit in God's self-disclosure, not only to humankind in general, but to the community of faith as well.  Other theologians such as John Calvin, the architect of Reformed theology, had different models, but that were similar in their emphasis on the role that the Holy Spirit and the Scriptures played in divine revelation.  In essence, we move in Christian theology from general revelation (through nature) to specific revelation through the Holy Spirit and through the Scriptures.

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Word, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen!

Dr. Juan A. Carmona, 

Past Visiting Professor of Theology 

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

  

                                                THE DOCTRINE OF REVELATION (CONTINUED)

At this point in our discussion about revelation, we now turn to an important consideration.  We will now look at the element of illumination.  What is illumination? Some may think of illumination as an "enlightenment," or perhaps as an "epiphany," or something that comes all of a sudden out of nowhere and that is not the result of human effort or initiative.  I personally would place illumination in the same category as revelation, i.e. something that is external to the human mind.  

Illumination presupposes that the intellect or mind is darkened and not able, on its own to comprehend truth.  In the past, it has been suggested and thought that the mind has been darkened by the effects of sin. In other words, the notion is that the rupture in the relationship between God and humankind has affected the human's ability to grasp divine truth.  

Because of the Christian mission to the Gentiles, Christian apologists in the second century were drawn into conversation with Hellenistic culture.  Like many theologians after him, Justin Martyr, the premier apologist of the period, appealed to the prologue of John's Gospel account and its description of Jesus Christ as the logos or the Word of made flesh for a common ground with Hellenism, especially Platonism and Stoicism.  In his Second Apology, Justin argued the superiority of Jesus's teaching to that of Socrates and all other human wisdom on the basis that Jesus alone was the entire Word of God.  Justin did not argue that the Word of God could be found only in Christ.  On the contrary, he believed that the teaching of Plato, along with other Greek writers, was not different from that of Jesus but only a dim interpretation of Him who was the word incarnate.  The logos, as he conceived it, is implanted in all people, but although it can be found in various places, is fully embodied only in one place or person-in Christ, who in turn illumines all others (Stroup, op cit., pp. 117-118). 

This, of course, raise the question as to whether everyone at one point or another in history, had a notion of Christ.  Did the Hindus, Jains, Buddhists, and others who lived thousands of years before the emergence of the Judeo-Christian tradition  experience the "Word" in their own way?  If so, what then, are the implications of Jesus having said that He is "the way, the truth, and the life?"  Was the Christ incarnate in some pre-existing way in these other faith traditions?  

Justin was only one of many theologians who have used the prologue to John's Gospel account as a warrant for interpreting revelation as divine illumination.  The claim that  it is God who enables the believer to come to the knowledge of deity was a major theme in the theologies of Augustine, Bonaventure, and Thomas Aquinas.  In his commentary on the Gospel according to John, Augustine sounded a theme that is to be found throughout his theological writings: the identification of Jesus Christ as the light which illumines the darkness of the human intellect and overcomes the blindness created by human sin (Stroup, p. 118). 

"We too, have been born blind of Adam and have need of Christ to enlighten us," said Augustine.  His description of illumination is strikingly similar to Plato's comparison of the idea of the good with the sun, except that for Augustine the Word of God is not only that which illumines the the darkness of the intellect, evokes faith, and makes understanding possible, but also that which is itself illuminated and made known to the believer.  In order to make this point, Augustine drew a distinction between the Word's illumination of the intellect and what the intellect knows when it is illumined.  In his treatise on the Trinity  he maintained that the light which illumines the intellect is not intellect itself, but the intellect cannot know what is true apart from this illumination.  What remained unclear in Augustine's theology was the precise nature of the "light" and its relation to the intellect (Augustine, "Homilies on the Gospel of John," NPNF 7:203). 

So once again we raise the notion of a prior "light" which may have enlightened humankind throughout its history.  Is is possible that when Buddha claimed to be "the enlightened one," that he was experiencing the illumination of the pre-incarnate logos?  Was the logos already operative in human history prior to Bethlehem or did He/It appear suddenly in human history in the first century C.E.? 

The problem received considerable clarification in the theology of Aquinas in the thirteenth century.  Aquinas modified and extended Augustine's description of the divine illumination of the intellect.  He began by describing the human intellect in terms of two powers: the passive intellect and the agent intellect.  The latter, he argued, has its origin in the divine light but is not the divine light itself.  In order for human beings to attain ultimate happiness-which Aquinas understood to be the supernatural vision of God-they must first be taught by God as pupils are taught by their master.  Faith, for Aquinas, was an act of assent by the intellect to those things "taught" or revealed by God.  But the intellect cannot even assent to what has been revealed unless it is illumined by God's grace.  When grace makes faith possible, the object of faith is that of truths taught in Scripture and the traditions of the Church (Stroup, p. 119).

It appears from what has been said above that Augustine and Aquinas were "on the same page."  However, I am not sure that Augustine would leave room for the volitional assent of the intellect as Aquinas did. I am not suggesting that Aquinas was leaning more towards Pelagianism, nor the later development of Arminianism.  But it does certainly appear that Aquinas was not so deeply entrenched in the notion of the "noetic" effects of sin as to completely paralyze and incapacitate human volition.

How can we, if at all, solve the tension between volitional assent to illumination, on the one hand, and on the other hold fast to the notion that an entity which "dead in trespasses and sin," is incapable of being receptive to illumination on its own?  It is, indeed, a very complex issue, and to which we may not find an answer in our lifetime.  Nevertheless, we continue to "live with the questions," and to acknowledge that when we deal with the fine and technical points of theology, that even then, theology is a human construct, and that whatever conclusions we arrive at are tentative, and only "true" until proven otherwise.  

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Former Visiting Professor of Theology 

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

                                                  

                                 THE DOCTRINE OF REVELATION (CONTINUED) 

Like with every other doctrine, we raise the question of "how did it all begin?"  In this case we ask the question as to when did the Church start to construct the doctrine, or even the notion of God's self-disclosure? 

It should be obvious to the readers of the New Testament, that the first-century Church did not have an elaborate or well thought-out system of doctrines or a "systematic theology," as such.  The first-century Church was too focused on how to deal with the persecution that was coming against it on the one hand, and on the other hand, the emergence of heresy within its circles.  Indeed, the Church had "a lot on its plate."  It was a real active and busy church.

There is no "doctrine" of revelation as such in the Bible, and many of the problems addressed by recent interpretations of revelation were simply unknown to the writers of Scripture.  Indeed, there is considerable evidence for one biblical scholar's argument that for the writers of Hebrew scripture, "apart from some quite limited concessions,  there is no stage at which God is not known (James Barr, Old and New in Interpretation: A Study of the Two Testaments.  New York: Harper and Row, 1966, p. 89)"

The writers of Hebrew scripture do not offer arguments for the existence of God  and do not discuss the plausibility of claims about God in relation to competing alternatives, whether those of natural sciences or the human sciences.  The Bible assumes knowledge of God.  The issues that have come to constitute the "problem" revelation-the relation of reason to revelation, the limits of reason, and the historicity of human understanding-are not issues in scripture.  That does not mean, however,  that the Bible is not  used as a resource in later discussion of revelation.  Both classical and contemporary discussion of revelation appeal to themes in scripture as warrants for their interpretation (George Stroup, op. cit., p. 116).

Although in the first seventeen centuries of the Church's history theological reflections on revelation assumed various forms, it is still possible to identify certain formal features that characterize most interpretations of the doctrine.  Usually revelation is interpreted as having both an objective and a subjective dimension.  The objective dimension refers to what is revealed, while the subjective dimension refers to how revelation is received.  The precise way in which revelation is interpreted often depends on which of the dimensions is given primary emphasis (Ibid.).

The objective dimension of revelation (what is revealed) may be construed in various ways.  It may be understood as proposition, an infallible teaching of scripture, the Gospel or Word of God, God's will toward the world, the personal being of God, or the moral order.  These different interpretations of what is revealed yield distinctive doctrines of revelation, and not surprisingly, different interpretations of Christian faith.  If the object of revelation is understood to be the Word of God in the person of Jesus Christ, faith will take a different form than if the object of revelation is understood to be a proposition or a doctrine, regardless of where it is found it is found (in scripture or in tradition).  Some versions of the former interpretation tend to emphasize the  effect of revelation-the Spirit's gift of saving faith-while some versions of the latter seek a more objective basis for faith in an inspired scripture or church (Ibid.).

In our continued search, things will become clearer as we sketch two models of revelation in classical theology.  They are: 

Revelation as illumination of the intellect 

Revelation as encounter with the Word and Spirit of God  

In both of these models, we will discover that  some interpretations  lean in the direction of the objective, and others that lean in the direction of the subjective (Ibid. p. 117).

En fin, our inquiry on the doctrine of revelation leads us to ask if there is a distinction between the objective and the subjective in divine revelation, or if they are one and the same.  We will learn to identify or distinguish between the "giver" and the "given."  We will also deal with whether the way we appropriate revelation is the way that God intended or wants us to appropriate it.

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Dr. Juan A. Carmona

Former Visiting Professor of Theology

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

 

THE DOCTRINE OF REVELATION 

One of the things that is unique in the Judeo-Christian-Islamic tradition is that of revelation.  By revelation, we are referring to the notion of God's self-disclosure in history.  In this tradition, God takes the initiative to reveal Godself to humankind through Scripture, tradition, and experience.  In some respects, Christian theology builds on the tradition of revelation in Jewish theology, and Islam builds on the tradition of revelation of both Jewish and Christian theology.  

Traditionally when Christians have attempted to explain what they know about God, and how they have access to that knowledge, they have appealed to something called "revelation."  In most versions of Christianity, revelation has served as the epistemological (knowledge base) for theology, that is, an appeal often has been made to revelation in order to account for knowledge of God.  Today, however, it is no longer clear what revelation means or how it provides knowledge of God.  Revelation is sometimes understood to refer to  dramatic moments, such as Paul's experience on the road to Damascus, or highly emotional events of the sort that take place at revivals.  While these interpretations of revelation are not uncommon, they are unfortunate because they obscure what revelation has traditionally meant and the important role that it has played in Christian faith and theology.  Furthermore, these misinterpretations of revelation are symptomatic of much deeper problems besetting any attempt to reinterpret revelation in the contemporary world (George Stroup in "Revelation."  Christian Theology: An Introduction to its Traditions and Tasks.  Peter C. Hodgson and Robert H. King, eds.  Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1994. p. 114).

Revelation has generally been understood to be correlative with faith.  Christians feel compelled to talk about faith in terms of "revelation" because they believe that faith is not the result of human discovery or inquiry.  Faith does not discover its object; it is on the contrary, constituted by it.  Christian faith is human response to what has been unveiled or disclosed by faith's object.  The unveiling or disclosure is what theology refers to as "revelation (Ibid.)"

So, in essence, what we are talking about relative to revelation, is the interaction between the one who initiates the revelation, and the one (or ones) who respond to it.  God is the initiator and humankind is the respondent by way of inquiry and research.  

Three aspects of this broad interpretation of revelation are worth noting.  First, revelation means an unveiling or, to use a more contemporary idiom, a "disclosure."  When revelation takes place, a veil is dropped and that which had been masked or hidden from view is disclosed (Stroup, op. cit. p. 114).

Second, the event in which this unveiling occurs cannot be initiated by human activity.  The initiator of the event is not the individual who witnesses the disclosure, but rather the agent  disclosed or unveiled in the event.  The very use of the word "unveiledness" and "disclosure" suggests that what makes itself known in a revelatory event is the stuff of mystery.  Revelation yields not the solution to a problem, or the answer to a difficult question, but the unveiling of a mystery (Ibid.).

Third, although faith is a human act, revelation is not.  Because revelation refers to an event in which what is made known exceeds the grasp of human inquiry, the event is attributed to God's grace.  Whatever else the doctrine of revelation is about, it is a statement about the grace of God.  Revelation is not at the disposal of human inquiry or control, and consequently, it becomes an even only by means of grace (Ibid.).

NOTE: It should be indicated, that in the Pauline-Agustinian-Calvinist tradition, faith itself is a gift of God, divinely given to those who God has predestined to eternal life.  In other Christian traditions, faith is a volitional act on the part of those who hear the proclamation of the Gospel, and subsequently, those who willfully respond in faith to the proclamation, are elected to eternal life.

While most interpretations of revelation share at least some of these formal features, there are also important differences between the classical descriptions of revelation and various contemporary forms of the doctrine.  These differences are so severe that in many respects contemporary interpretations of revelation bear only a formal resemblance to their classical predecessors, and sometimes not even that.  One reason for the sharp differences between classical and contemporary interpretations of revelation and for the present disarray in contemporary theology is that revelation, the traditional foundation for knowledge of God, has become problematic; it is no longer clear what revelation means and whether revelation provides theology with an adequate basis for its claims about God.  Why this alteration in the interpretation of revelation has taken place and what it implies about the future of theology will be the major concerns of this ongoing inquiry (Stroup, op. cit. p. 115).  

Since theology is an ongoing constructive task, we will be subject to redefinitions and redactions in terms of the language which we use.  Because theology is tentative, we remain open to ongoing revelation and to how that revelation is defined and understood.  We keep in mind, during this journey of inquiry that theology is a humanly-generated construction, and that subsequently, it is subject to redaction and revision relative to its approaches, methodology, and hermeneutical usage.

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Rev. Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Past Visiting Professor of Theology 

Tainan Theological College/Seminary 

 THE DOCTRINE OF GOD (CONTINUED) 

THE ENCOUNTER WITH OTHER RELIGIOUS TRADITIONS 

What are the possible new issues confronting Christian theology at the present time?  We can say that there are various issues, and yet, in examining them, we will discover that many of them are not so new. Many of them are really a regurgitation and resurrection of issues that have been  brought up in the past.  We may think that they have been "laid to rest," just to find out that they were simply buried and "put on hold" until another time.  

One of the most, if not the most important one is the encounter with other religious traditions.  Some may say that it is not a valid theological pursuit to engage with other religions, because from our Christian theological standpoint, these other traditions are either totally false or "partially true."  As Christians we may be so arrogant as to think that we have the truth of God "sewn up in our pockets."  That would amount to, in my humble opinion as both a believer and as a theologian, to presumptuousness and also to Christian theological imperialism. 

In our present situation, religious faiths, like political and economic systems, encounter one another regularly and intimately.  Since this encounter of the religions, in the last several decades, has become an omnipresent reality, the relation of Christian theology to other, non-Christian modes of "theology" has emerged as a burning issue.  Not only have Christianity and Christians "encountered" other religions, they have also encountered this religions as bearing power and and as embodying vital, healing, redemptive forces providing unique illumination  and grace to our ailing cultural life and our somewhat impoverished existence.  No longer, therefore, is it possible for Christians to declare other faiths either devoid of truth (as did orthodoxy) or primitive or less developed steppingstones to the absoluteness of Christianity (as did the early liberals). The suggestion that within other religions the promise of salvation is present and also the truth is experienced is now admitted and affirmed by many.  But if that be so, what does it mean for the uniqueness of Christian revelation, for the finality of Christ's incarnation, and atonement, for the salvation of non-Christians-and a thousand other important theological questions (Gilkey, p. 111)?

I know that many Christians will fall back on the passages of Jesus saying that He is "the way, the truth, and the life," and Paul saying that there is only "one mediator between God and humankind," and Peter saying that "there is no other name given under Heaven whereby we must be saved."  Having said that, we can easily pose the question as to just exactly what do those passages mean? Does that mean that the millions of people who lived and died before the Christian era have no hope because they never heard the name of Jesus the Christ.  Did God condemn them to eternal damnation for lack of knowledge?  Or can we say that there are universal elements in those passages which we have not cared to explore, taking the easy and dismissive way out?  Is Jesus the "Cosmic" Christ who transcends all religious doctrine, dogma, and theology, or is He restricted to the Christian faith? Does a person have to shed their prior faith and religious tradition in order to have a relationship with God through Christ?  

Understandably, most of the new debate on these matters has centered on the crucial questions of special revelation and Christology. And many have assumed that that, were these christological doctrines to be liberalized or toned down, the issues vis-a-vis other religions would dissipate. Important divergences (say, with Hinduism and Buddhism) appear in connection with every significant theological or philosophical question, from the that of the nature of reality and our knowledge of it, through the nature of human being and its "problem," to the understanding of history and final salvation (Ibid., p. 112)

In conclusion, it is safe to say that the encounter of religions with one another and their subsequent dialogues with one another will effect radical changes in the discussion of God carried out by every present form of Christian theology.  To predict what new directions these changes will represent is really only to state what our preferences are, where we think the understanding of God "ought to go," granted this encounter.  As for the direction it will in fact go, we have no insight except to suggest that, even more than an encounter between Catholicism and Protestantism, a close encounter with the other religions will effect noteworthy changes in every recognizable form of contemporary discussion about God (Ibid.).

We might choose to remained entrenched in our theological cages, believing that there is no "truth" outside of them, or we might open our cage to engage with people in other cages, who together with us are in search of truth.  We might "close down" on dialogue with non-Christians, or we may opt to engage in a "give and take" dialogical exchange.

This theologian/writer opts for the latter, believing that no religious tradition has a monopoly on God, and that God-in-Christ, comes to us in ways that God alone determines, regardless of how obstinate, reticent, and stubborn we may be.  Let God be God.

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Dr. Juan A. Carmona

Past Visiting Professor of Theology 

Tainan Theological College/Seminary  

 THE DOCTRINE OF GOD (CONTINUED)

In spite of the difficulties relative to defining the doctrine and idea of God, the quest continues to obtain  an understanding  of what and who God is.  Because we cannot understand God in God's full essence and nature,  is no reason to give up on trying to articulate an idea of God that makes it possible for us to acknowledge and affirm the existence of God, in spite of the reality that we are "living with the questions."

All the answers that can be offered to the myriad of questions concerning the nature of God, each answer has its power and persuasive adherents.  Those who emphasize the knowability of God by reason have offered one version or another of the classical "proofs" of God: the cosmological, from the existence of the finite world, the teleological, from the order of the finite world, the ontological, from the implications of the concept of God itself as a concept of a perfect and so necessary being ; and the moral argument, from the implications of moral existence.  These widely variant forms of philosophical approach have been united in in arguing that any theology intellectually respectable enough to speak to modern, intelligent people must represent its religious heritage in the intellectual form of such a rationally grounded philosophical theology.  Without such a philosophical base for our knowledge of God, our certainty of the divine reality and our comprehension of the relation of this concept to our other concepts will be seriously lacking.  As a consequence, the idea of God will increasingly be regarded as merely subjective and idiosyncratic, a private matter of "feeling," and therefore unreal, a private image unrelated to to the width of all experience, vacant of content, and in the end meaningless (Gilkey, op. cit. p. 101).

There are those who have shared a jaundiced view of culture's reasoning  and of its philosophical "proofs"; on religious grounds they have emphasized the transcendence and mystery of God.  They are not at all unaware that most contemporary philosophy has come to regard metaphysical speculation and all proofs of a divine reality as representing a dubious and uncritical use of reason, and therefore itself devoid of certainty, objectivity, or meaning.  They also have sensed the ideological and invalid character of such "modern" thinking.  For them modern thought, far from providing an objective and valid ground for our ultimate faith, itself represents a significant aspect of the modern problem, needing itself new principles of illumination if it is to help our religious existence (Ibid.).

More important, the main problem of the knowledge of God, they insist, is not that we cannot know God with our finite minds, but that in fact secretly we do not all wish to know God.  Thus natural theology represents the persistent and systematic attempt of self-sufficient people to create a "God" of their own and so to avoid relationship with or knowledge of the real God.  A philosophical God, the product of our own metaphysical thinking and the construct of our own wayward modern wisdom, may be infinitely more comfortable for us to live with.  Nevertheless, such a "God: is a far cry from the real God who confronts us in judgment and may confront us therefore also in grace.  Furthermore, the very center of Christian promise resides in the re-creation of what we are, and of how and what we think, not in their mere extension and solidification.  Thus God-not "our own words to ourselves"-must speak to us in revelation. Such an event of revelation provides the sole basis and the sole norm for the religious existence of the Christian community from which and for wish valid and legitimate theology speaks.  To be sure, theology does not speak to the world as well as to the church, but in its speech it must seek to represent not the wisdom of the world, but the message of the Gospel, not the word of humanity, but the Word of God. Theology may use philosophy in explicating this message in coherent and adequate form.  Its primal obligation, however, is to be faithful to revelation and not to pressures of public rationality as the world defines rationality.  Faith therefore precedes and controls the use of reason in theology, i.e. "I believe in order to understand," rather than I understand in order to believe" (Ibid., pp. 101-102)

Therefore, we understand that the doctrine of God has its rational component and foundation.  Having said that, we deal with the issue of whether theology constructs God in a human image, or whether the human, as the Scriptures state, are created in the image and likeness of God.  Theology also has its revelational component, i.e. bases itself on the divine self-disclosure, which comes at God's initiative.  Theology sees to it that the language it uses about the divine is a a language of concepts and terms that are understandable to whose who are engaged in the theological task, whether they be lay, ordained, or professional in their engagement.

In the Name of the Creator, and of the Liberator, and of the Sustainer. Amen.

Dr. Juan A. Carmona 

Past Visiting Professor of Theology

Tainan Theological College/Seminary