Choice

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America, Holy Spirit, St. Ambrose, St. Athanasius

Anyone who has studied the history of the Orthodox Church might be surprised by the precision of language used in dogma. For example, many of the theological arguments during the fourth century were about the word ὁμοούσιος (homoousios — of one essence) as it was used in the Nicene Creed. St. Athanasius the Great was exiled seven times because he insisted on its use. To the modern American mind, this might seem excessive, if not ridiculous. [Indeed, we live in times where language seems to be purposely imprecise. Try nailing down a definition of social justice, for example.]

This precision wasn’t necessarily what the Orthodox Church wanted to do, but it became necessary because various heretical views forced such precision. St. Athanasius did not want to use ὁμοούσιος in the Nicene Creed because it is not found in Scripture; however, the language of Scripture allowed two people who had very different understandings of who Jesus Christ is to say the Creed and appear to be of one mind when they clearly were not.

We get a glimpse of these battles over language in the eighth chapter of the second book of St. Ambrose’s treatise On the Holy Spirit:

But what wonder is it if foolish men question about words, when they do so even about syllables? For some think that a distinction should be made and that God should be praised in the Spirit, but not with the Spirit, and consider that the greatness of the Godhead is to be estimated from one syllable or some custom, arguing that if they consider that God should be glorified in the Spirit, they point to some office of the Holy Spirit, but that if they say that God receives glory or power with the Spirit, they seem to imply some association and communion of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

In the end, though, this precision of language is an excellent thing. By providing clear-cut choices, the Orthodox Church defends and maintains human freedom. If we know precisely what is and isn’t the Orthodox Church’s understanding of Jesus Christ, then we are free to accept or reject that understanding.

To give a counter-illustration, let us take the aforementioned phrase social justice. Ask ten different people what they think social justice means, it is very likely that ten different definitions will emerge. If we do not know precisely what social justice means, then how can we know whether or not we can support or oppose it? When asked if I support social justice, I am always having to answer, “I don’t know, what do you mean by social justice?” If we don’t have a precise definition of what it is, our freedom of choice is denied because there is nothing to choose from.

Ultimately, St. Athanasius won the argument over the use of ὁμοούσιος precisely because it helped people understand whether or not they held to the faith of the Orthodox Church — it allowed them to choose.

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Wind

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Holy Spirit, Old Testament, St. Ambrose

I pray that this post finds everyone happy, healthy and blessed within the afterglow of celebrating the Nativity of our Lord, God and Savior. As I promised you and myself, I will continue to make my way through all three books of On the Holy Spirit by St. Ambrose (though at a much more leisurely pace). In case you misplaced it, here is the link to all the works of St. Ambrose and here is a link to the chapter I am currently meditating on.

After establishing in the first five chapters of the second book that various titles given to the Father and the Son in Scripture are also given to the Holy Spirit, in chapter six St. Ambrose moves on to tackle one of the proof texts for those who claim that the Holy Spirit is merely a creature and not God — Amos 4:13.

Behold, I am He that establish the thunders, and create the wind, and declare unto man his Christ, that make light and mist, and ascend upon high places, the Lord God Almighty is His Name.

In English translation, this verse does not appear to have anything to do with the Holy Spirit. The problem arises in Greek and Latin where the words for spirit (πνεῦμα and spiritus) can also mean wind. Thus, Amos 4:13 appears to say that the Spirit (wind) is created.

St. Ambrose deals with this by first pointing out that in context (where thunder is listed before wind), this verse is obviously referring to wind and not spirit. He then does this wonderful bit of reasoning, where he takes his opponents’ argument to its logical conclusion:

And so, as to that which the prophet declared as it were of the daily working of God in the thunder and the creation of the wind, it would be impious to understand any such thing of the Holy Spirit, Whom the ungodly themselves cannot deny to exist from before the world. Whence with pious asseveration we testify that He always exists, and abides ever. For neither can He Who before the world was moving upon the waters begin to be visible after the world’s creation; or else it would be allowable to suppose that there are many Holy Spirits, Who come into being by as it were a daily production. Far be it from any one to pollute himself with such impiety as to say that the Holy Spirit is frequently or ever created. For I do not understand why He should be frequently created; unless perchance they believe that He dies frequently and so is frequently created. But how can the Spirit of life die? If, then, He cannot die, there is no reason why He should be often created.

If the Holy Spirit is the wind, as those who use Amos 4:13 as a proof text for the creation of the Spirit argue, then the Holy Spirit must die, because the wind dies. How can this be if He is called Life?

It is stuff like this that makes me firmly believe that the Fathers of the Church could argue circles around the opponents of Christianity today. The most educated and erudite philosophers, politicians and cultural elite cannot hold a candle to these guys. Most of our elite argue to a narrative that has little or nothing to do with reality — most, if not everything, is geared to what looks good on TV. In biblical terms, those who argue this way are eisegetes— they read into reality and what they want to see, not what is. St. Ambrose and his contemporaries are consummate exegetes — they are able to see what is actually in Scripture and reality, not what they wish to see.

One of my laments about living in the 21st century is that while we understand ourselves to be one of the most educated generations in history (we fool ourselves by the level of technology we use on a daily basis), if we are honest, our ability to think and argue clearly pales in comparison to the great Fathers of the Church. Through the prayers of St. Ambrose, may we see even a fraction of their ability in this day and age. Amen.