Reflections on Theological Language

Reflections on Theological Language
By Travis Stevick
John Calvin’s Use of the Fathers (Independent Study)
Spring 2010

Introduction

For most people, the limits of human language does not impact the way they live their lives from day to day. They are able to communicate with others and function in society. However, there are certain moments where it becomes painfully clear that our language is simply not capable of communicating what we want. This has become particularly clear in light of the work of Austrian philosopher, Ludwig Wittgenstein, who “pointed out that it [is] impossible to describe the aroma of coffee using words.” If it is impossible to describe something as simple as the aroma of coffee using words, how much more difficult is it to describe the realities of the Christian faith: God, sin, redemption, among others?

As it turns out, the question of how we use language as Christians to talk about God is not a new topic, though recent philosophical works, like that of Wittgenstein, have raised it again within the modern and post-modern contexts. One of the most significant areas that the topic of theological language has arisen throughout history is regarding the Christian doctrine of the Trinity. This is, in large part, because there is a matrix of human experience that enables us, to a greater or lesser degree, to understand most of the words that we use to speak of God. However, when we turn to the Christian doctrine of God, that there is only one God, but that this one God is a community of Persons, each of whom are personally distinct from one another yet absolutely united in being, we find that, more than anywhere else, our language falls far short of the realities that we intend.

When we attempt to use data from human experience to understand the Triunity of God, we immediately run into problems. We can understand threeness from our human experience; the same is true for oneness. There are even some images that can demonstrate threeness and oneness, such as a single egg being made up of shell, white, and yolk, or H2O being able to take the form of solid, liquid or gas. However, when these examples are pushed to their logical conclusion, they either tend to image a Tritheistic or Modalistic understanding of God, respectively. Nothing in our general human experience can function as a frame of reference by which to understand the personal distinctions within the unity of God.

This paper will explore several important motifs of the functions and limitations of theological language in dialogue with significant thinkers within the Christian tradition. Throughout, it will be rooted in the discussion of the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, not simply for the reason that it is a topic in which many issues surrounding theological language come to a dramatic climax (as alluded to above) but because, for most of thinkers involved in the present dialogue, their most insightful statements on the topic of theological language arose in various discussions of the Trinity.

The Priority of Being over Language

In spite of the tendency throughout the history of the church for theologians to draw from the language and methodology of secular philosophy, it is important that we consider theology as a discipline that is inescapably a posteriori rather than a priori. It is not possible to conclude before an investigation of God as revealed in the Old and New Testaments and primarily in the person of Jesus Christ, what the fruit of such an investigation will be. The reason for this is because the subject of our theological reflection is a personal God who can only be understood on the grounds of that God’s revelation of himself to us. As has been observed many times throughout Christian history, when we attempt to bypass special revelation, we tend to create God in our own image; that is, we make an idol.

Since this God with whom we have to do has objective existence and this God is who he is independently of our knowing of him, our task in theology takes the form of attempting to articulate the complexities of God as accurately as possible much in the same way that a scientist attempts to articulate the complexities of nature. This unavoidably subordinates our language about God to the reality of God itself (if it is possible to use a non-personal pronoun for a personal God).

Athanasius had a particularly illuminating way to articulate this basic conviction. He wrote, in his second discourse against the Arians, that, “Terms do not disparage His nature; rather that Nature draws to Itself those terms and changes them. For terms are not prior to essences, but essences are first, and terms second.” This statement makes a few important points. First, it emphasizes what was said above, that God is who God is before we ever apply terms to speak about him. Secondly, God being infinite and our words being finite, we should not expect our terms to be able to encompass the reality of God. This is further complicated if we maintain the conviction that God is fundamentally unlike anything in our daily experience. Our terms are not, then, intrinsically capable of bearing divine meaning, but must be redefined in light of the nature of God (or God’s essence).

Thomas Aquinas, in the very first question of his Summa Theologica, at least hints at the priority of God over our terms about him. He argues that “sacred doctrine” is a science but that it is not a science like “arithmetic and geometry and the like,” which “proceed from principles known by the natural light of intelligence.” Instead, it is a science like music, which derives its principles from a “higher science” which, in this case, is “the science of God and the blessed.” He does not here use technical metaphysical terms like Athanasius’ use of “essence,” but he is still pointing to the fact that the entire practice of attempting to understand God is secondary to the God we are hoping to understand. We can see that he is clear on this utter dependence on God rather than on independently generated knowledge because the title of the very first article of the Summa is, “Whether, besides philosophy, any further doctrine is required.”

In light of these two thinkers and their acknowledgement of the priority of the being (or “essence”) of God over the terms used, we come to the methodological conclusion that we must operate, that is, think theologically, from what God has actually revealed, rather than from human experience. Gregory Nazienzen was very aware of the problems of finite human beings attempting to understand God on the basis of our their limited experience. In his fifth theological oration, Gregory is responding to a desire of others to explain the details of what is meant when it is said that the Holy Spirit “proceeds.” He was hesitant to probe too deeply into the meaning of the word, challenging those who are overwhelmed by curiosity to explain what it means for the Father to be “unbegotten” before he makes such an attempt. He concludes this thought by saying,

"And who are we to do these things, we who cannot even see what lies at our feet, or number the sands of the sea, or the drops of rain, or the days of Eternity, much less enter into the Depths of God, and supply an account of that Nature which is so unspeakable and transcending all words."

Perhaps even more strongly stated, Gregory comments shortly after that, “It is very shameful, and not only shameful, but very foolish, to take from things below a guess at things above, and from a fluctuating nature at the things that are unchanging.”

This prioritization of reality over words marginalizes the terms we use to describe the reality of God. If any language we can use falls short of the reality it is attempting to explain or describe, then it makes no sense to insist on one particular way of speaking about God because, while one term might lend itself particularly well to being changed by the divine nature (as Athanasius said), there is nothing intrinsic in that term that makes it the only term that can be accepted.

Athanasius was particularly aware of this necessity to allow the reality of God to forge divisions between people (such as between Arians and those who came to be known as Orthodox) rather than the terms the people use. This meant that there was rather significant room for diversity of language to speak of God. Athanasius, who fervently attacked Arianism, did not insist on absolute linguistic conformity.

"Those, however, who accept everything else that was defined at Nicaea, and doubt only about the Coessential, must not be treated as enemies…but we discuss the matter with them as brothers with brothers, who mean what we mean, and dispute only about the word. "

This, however, is not a simple passing over of terms as insignificant. Athanasius continues on and explains exactly why he agrees with these “brothers” in spite of a linguistic difference. “But since they say that He [Jesus] is ‘of the essence’ and ‘Like-in-essence,’ what do they signify by these but ‘Coessential?’” Not all terms point to the same reality, but if they do, they should be accepted.

In his letter to the church of Antioch, Athanasius discusses differences in the use of “hypostasis” and other theological terms used by others. He relates that he has inquired into the use of those terms, as to whether they intended the same things as those like Arius and Sabellius. When the answer is negative and, articulating that what they mean by those terms is fully in line with what would become Orthodoxy, he cannot find any reason to exclude them from communion.

"These things then being thus confessed, we exhort you not hastily to condemn those who so confess, and so explain the phrases they use, nor to reject them, but rather to accept them as they desire peace and defend themselves, while you check and rebuke, as of suspicious views, those who refuse so to confess and to explain their language."

In this way, Athanasius takes the emphasis off of linguistic uniformity and onto a unity of meaning. Because of this, a stubbornness and unwillingness to explain the use of terms is a greater problem and danger to unity than the use of different terms in itself.

Once it has been established that language and terms are of secondary importance when compared to the realities that are referred to with our language, there remain a few major topics of consideration. First, a statement about how our theological language and terms actually relate to the realities they intend. Second, a caution about the limits and weakness of our language. Finally, some important considerations about how theological language actually functions, that is, how and why we use theological language, including the use of non-biblical language.

Relation of Language to Reality

Language is particularly finite. The realities of daily experience have existence and concrete meaning even if there is no language by which to describe and understand them. A child or other person who cannot use language to express their experiences to others nevertheless still has those experiences. Further, the same experience is often expressed in different words, as some early Greek philosophers noticed, as when one person comments that something is warm while another states that the same thing is cold. We have learned, especially in more recent times, that our words do not have a kind of logical or necessary connection with reality, but take their meaning from their context. This means that the use of words does not necessarily yield true and complete communication. There is a sense that all words take on the character of technical terms, with meanings that are fixed, but only within a particular context and, should someone encounter those words outside of the appropriate context, misunderstanding is possible and even likely.

So far, this paper has emphasized the limitations of language and sharply distinguished between terms and the reality that is intended by those terms. In light of such a distinction, a connection or relationship must be established between terms and the realities they intend if the terms are to carry any meaning at all. St. Anselm of Canterbury provides an excellent way to consider this issue at the beginning of his work, “On Truth.”

Anselm distinguishes between two “truths of statements.” If a statement is grammatically correct, that is, if it is a well-formed sentence that conforms to the rules of language, it has a kind of truth inasmuch as it is truly a statement. However, such a statement can signify what is false, or “that what is not is,” to use Anselm’s language. When this is so, even though it has a kind of truth and therefore has one of the two “truths of statement,” it is not true in the usual sense of the word. A statement only has both of the truths of statement if it is not only a grammatically correct sentence, but also is consistent with what it is attempting to convey, or rather, in Anselm’s language, “When it says that what is is, it doubly does what it ought to, since it signifies both what it undertakes to signify and is a well-formed sentence.”

This idea, that statements are true if they correctly indicate what “is,” is crucial to our understanding of our language about God, especially regarding the doctrine of the Trinity. It enables us to conceive of truth in a way that exceeds the literal, but is always bound to it. Even Thomas Aquinas, who affirmed that there are multiple senses of the Biblical text, emphasizes that non-literal senses of the text are bound to and built upon the literal sense and that no doctrine of faith is devoid of literal support. After all, words do not have truly arbitrary meaning, but are rooted to large social conventions that span centuries. The main point is that, when we speak of truth, we are not speaking of words but realities. Our terms are true inasmuch as they point beyond themselves to reality; that is, to what really is. This manifests itself in a non-technical way when we reflect on and realize that the word “God” is not the same thing as the reality of God as born witness to by the Old and New Testaments.

Shaping of Terms by Reality

Terms and statements are not only judged in light of reality, that is, shown to be true or false by the reality signified, but they are shaped by that reality. This is true of all language, but is especially true of Christian language of God. Christianity, especially with its doctrine of the Incarnation, is a revealed faith, that is, it depends on the revelation of God and, therefore, cannot be understood in any way that bypasses the actual revelation of God. This is, perhaps, one of the main reasons that God was so angry with the tendency of Israel toward pagan conceptions of God and pagan responses to God. Such conceptions and practices bypassed the actual revelation of God in their midst.

Though the Hebrew language was so thoroughly shaped by God’s interaction with Israel, this was not the case with the Greek language. The assumption of Greek language by Jews and early Christians meant using language for God that had pagan connotations. And yet, the early Christians did not abandon the Greek language on this basis, but carefully used even these words in such a way that their meaning was radically reinterpreted on the basis of their use in relation to and in light of God’s self-revelation in Jesus Christ.

By understanding terms in light of the realities they intend, not only are the terms reshaped, but the weakness of those same terms is brought to light in ways that remind us that the reality of the Christian God is far greater than can be expressed merely in words. Gregory Nazienzen pointed out that, even though the Greek terms that were employed to speak of God possessed grammatical gender, this did not project gender into God. Sarcastically, he says, “Or may be (sic) you would consider our God to be male…because he is called God and Father, and that Deity is feminine, from the gender of the word, and Spirit neuter, because It has nothing to do with generation.” Though other cultures (including, incidentally, the Greeks) assigned gender to their various gods, this is not appropriate for the Christian God. It is interesting that Gregory insists on God being independent of gender, even though that same God became incarnate in a particular man. Even an incarnation as a male human being does not, for Gregory, make God male.

To bring the discussion back to the specific issue of the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, we run into the issue of how God is both three and one. As was mentioned above, there are no analogies to God’s Triunity as expressed in the ancient creeds and by the ecumenical councils. However, this fact is only appreciated when one allows the reality of God as revealed in Jesus Christ to challenge and redefine theological language. One particularly persistent way to account for God’s threeness and oneness is to say, if we use the language of “three persons, one substance,” that person is related to substance like species is related to genus. This was taken up by Augustine in his monumental work on the Trinity.

Augustine points out the weakness of this manner of speaking because, in spite of naming three persons, Christian faith affirms only one God. He uses the example of horses, which is a particular species of animal. If there are three horses, we say “There are three horses” but we also say “There are three animals.” If we think of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit as various species of the genus, God, we would be forced to say “Three persons, three Gods,” which is not at all what Christian faith had been struggling to say.

Another, and at first more convincing, analogy for the Trinity is the image of three statues, all made out of gold. Augustine confesses that, at this point, we would say, “Three statues, one gold.” And yet, this does not solve all the problems. After all, these three statues do not exhaust the reality of gold. There are other statues made of gold; there are also a multitude of other things made of gold, such as rings. Augustine claims that, when we speak of God being one substance but three persons, we are also claiming that there is nothing outside of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit that shares in their “godness.” These two examples both seem, at one level or another, to cope with the problem the early church had in articulating their doctrine of God. And yet, when the problem is engaged at the level of reality and not just the level of language, the inadequacy of these two other options becomes abundantly clear.

The Necessity of Theological Language

In light of the discussion so far in this paper, with its repeated claims that language is finite and disconnected from the reality of God, one might ask the question, “Why do we use theological language at all? Why not just be silent?” At this point, we are reminded once again that the issue of theological language touches the realm of metaphysics. In spite of the poverty of human language and its inability to capture the entirety of God, Christian faith is rooted in a deep conviction that there is a God, that this God has willed to make himself known to human beings, and that this self-revelation is most full and complete in Jesus. If this is indeed the case, we are bound to say something, not because we hope to bring the reality of God to full and indubitable expression, but because we must bear witness to the utmost of our ability to this reality (God) that has made itself known to us.

Alister McGrath recognizes this need to bear witness to the reality of God as manifested to us in Jesus as the first of his four purposes that doctrine serves, which is, “to tell the truth about the way things are.” The is of God generates in us an ought to bear witness to it, to tell the truth as fully as we are able. This is not only important in itself, but becomes even more pressing when the “orthodox” view comes into contact with opposing views. If there is indeed a reality to be known (God), and this reality is somehow knowable (as revealed in Jesus Christ), then human beings are not free to say whatever they want to about the reality, but are bound to speak in accordance with how things really are.

Precisely this problem arose in the Christological and Trinitarian debates of the early church. In particular, Augustine, in his work on the Trinity, wrestles with the challenge of the Sabellians, who argue that there are no personal distinctions within the unity of God. “Yet, when the question is asked, What three? Human language labors altogether under great poverty of speech. The answer, however, is given, three ‘persons,’ not that it might be [completely] spoken, but that it might not be left [wholly] unspoken.” Two books later, he states, “What therefore remains, except that we confess that these terms sprang from the necessity of speaking.” Augustine does not presume that simply the utterance of the word “persons” will solve the debate since there is a fundamental disagreement about content (that is, Augustine believes that there is a threeness in the unity of God while the Sabellians do not), but is attempting to bear witness to what is. The point is not that a human conception of “person” will exhaust the reality he intends to communicate, but that the reality of God reshapes and redefines the word “person” in light of who God really is.

Calvin, writing considerably later, as one of the major voices in the reformation, agrees substantially with Augustine, and even cites his views. “On account of the poverty of human speech in so great a matter, the word ‘hypostasis’ had been forced upon us by necessity, not to express what it is, but only not to be silent on how Father, Son, and Spirit are three.” Calvin’s particular debate was over the use of non-Biblical words in theological expression, a topic that will be treated below, but his fundamental point is important to take into consideration. In order to grapple with the mystery of the Trinity, and to not remain entirely silent regarding what God has revealed to humanity, a word had to be used to express the threeness of God. That is what “hypostasis” or “person” was intended to do, not because of any innate worth of the word or any intrinsic connection of the word to God, but because something must be said and others were misunderstanding this fundamental point.

Calvin continues on and encourages those who would find fault with such theological language to take the dilemma seriously. “But let these very persons, in turn, weigh the necessity that compels us to speak thus, that gradually they may at length become accustomed to a useful manner of speaking.” In essence, Calvin is challenging those who would be contentious to attempt to express God’s Triunity without making use of non-biblical language. It is Calvin’s claim that heresy cannot be protected against without such use.

The Use of Non-Biblical Language

The use of language not found in the Bible has been a subject of discussion in any community that places a high priority on the supremacy of the scriptures as the sole source and norm of faith and practice. John Calvin was the leader of such a community and, presumably was under fire for his use of non-biblical terms. And yet, his use of non-biblical terms was not new; he was merely following in a long heritage of great theologians who borrowed language from other fields to help bring their theological convictions to precise articulation.

Athanasius, who spent considerable time defending and promoting the statements of the council of Nicaea, wrote often on the topic of the uses and limits of biblical language. He often provided an argument from scripture by reminding his readers that, when Jesus was tempted, the devil effected this temptation by using scripture. This comment is meant to establish a negative barrier, where it is maintained that words are not good simply because they appear in the Bible. He says, “The devil, though speaking from the Scriptures, is silenced by the saviour.” Here is a biblical argument that scriptural language is not infallible in all contexts, as it can be used as a vehicle of temptation.

Right after Athanasius makes this comment about the devil’s use of scripture, he comments about Paul’s use of non-biblical language. “The blessed Paul, though he speaks from profane writers, ‘The Cretans are always liars,’ and, ‘For we are His offspring,’ and, ‘Evil communications corrupt good manners,’ yet has a religious meaning, as being holy.” By placing these two examples from the New Testament together, Athanasius is effectively saying that Biblical language is not a guarantee of orthodoxy, neither is non-biblical language incompatible with orthodoxy, but rather the language that is used is rooted in the intention of the author or speaker and how that person actually uses the language.

To this point is another statement by Athanasius:

"Irreligiousness is utterly forbidden, though it be attempted to disguise it with artful expressions and plausible sophisms; but religiousness is confessed by all to be lawful, even though presented in strange phrases [that is, phrases not found in scripture], provided only they are used with a religious view, and wish to make them the expression of religious thoughts."

Athanasius will not allow us to mindlessly weigh the value of statements based on where the words came from, but must probe into the realities intended by the words. This, again, is an a posteriori practice. The orthodoxy of a statement cannot be determined before actually examining the statement and understanding whether it accurately points beyond itself to the true God.


To bring the discussion back to Calvin, the use of non-biblical language, especially as technical terms, helps to cut through useless debate and establish a position with clarity. Calvin has a very practical approach to the use of non-biblical terms, which will be quoted at length.

"Arius says that Christ is God, but mutters that he was made and had a beginning. He says that Christ is one with the Father, but secretly whispers in the ears of his own partisans that He is united to the Father like other believers, although by a singular privilege.
Say ‘consubstantial’ and you will tear the mask off this turncoat, and yet you add nothing to Scripture. Sabellius says that Father, Son, and Spirit signify no distinctions in God. Say there are three, and he will scream that you are naming three Gods. Say that in the one essence of God there is a trinity of persons; you will say in one word what scripture states, and cut short empty talkativeness."

For Calvin, particular non-biblical terms, like the technical term, “consubstantial,” are very useful for concisely stating a position and refuting opposing views.

This observation dovetails in with several points made above. It is the reality of God that matters, not the terms we use to speak of that reality. The terms are only really true inasmuch as they point beyond themselves to the truth they intend to signify; that is, our language about God, biblical or not, is only true if it conforms to what (or rather, who) God really is. The Latin term “consubstantial” or other terms do not project content into God but are reshaped by the reality of God. Because of controversy, something must be said about God’s Triunity, but what needs to be said depends just as much on how the words are used as the words themselves.

Conclusion

If the above discussion bears any relation to the truth, it would imply a few practical conclusions. First, there should be considerable latitude regarding how we speak of God. Calvin expressed this well, when he said, “Really, I am not, indeed, such a stickler as to battle doggedly over mere words. For I note that the ancients…agree neither among themselves nor even at all times individually with themselves.” Also, Gregory Nazienzen expresses a healthy distaste of linguistic battles. “Since, then, there is so much difference in terms and things, why are you such a slave to the letter…and a follower of syllables at the expense of facts?”

A second practical implication is that, though there should be great liberty of expression, there should be, through increased discernment and dialogue, be greater unity in content. That is, though we may use a great diversity of terminology to speak of God, we should not assume that all terminology is equally helpful, nor that all the diverse terminology is necessarily describing the same reality. Increased discernment would help reduce arguments based only on words, but help unify those who agree on the realities of the faith, and disagree only in the words used to speak of those realities.

A final idea we should take away from this reflection is that truth does not find its locus in our words, but in the realities that are intended by those words. In the case of theological language, it reminds us that truth is not static and impersonal, but that God is truth, that this truth is dynamic and personal in character, and that it cannot be collapsed into rigid propositions about God. It is as Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”


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