Calvin’s Classical Theism

Calvin’s Classical Theism

by | Apr 22, 2022 | Historical Theology

The Institutes of the Christian Religion, by John Calvin, is sometimes vague when it comes to theology proper. This is not to say Calvin had an underdeveloped doctrine of God. It is only to say that the doctrine of God was largely uncontested in his day (with the exception of some individuals, like Servetus), and so he most likely did not feel the need to invoke either language or length in treatment that may be expected in the Puritan age (corresponding with the rise of Socinianism). The question of source-material has also been asked concerning Calvin’s access or use of older sources. He does make brief, ultra-precise statements at times. For example, he says in the outline for Book I, ch. 13, “In this one essence are three persons, yet so that neither is there a triple God, nor is the simple essence of God divided. Meaning of the word Person in this discussion. Three hypostases in God, or the essence of God.”[1] 

The Institutes of the Christian Religion

He further elaborates on the doctrine of the Trinity by saying, “While he proclaims his unity, he distinctly sets it before us as existing in three persons. These we must hold, unless the bare and empty name of Deity merely is to flutter in our brain without any genuine knowledge. Moreover, lest anyone should dream of a threefold God, or think that the simple essence is divided by the three Persons, we must here seek a brief and easy definition which may effectually guard us from error.”[2] Furthermore, he states, “When we profess to believe in one God, by the name God is understood the one simple essence, comprehending three persons or hypostases; and, accordingly, whenever the name of God is used indefinitely, the Son and Spirit, not less than the Father, is meant.”[3]

Speaking to the importance of understanding Father, Son, and Spirit to be identical to the divine essence, he writes, “If they reply that the Father, while essentiating, still remains the only God, being the possessor of the essence, then Christ will be a figurative God, one in name or semblance only, and not in reality, because no property can be more peculiar to God than essence, according to the words, ‘I AM has sent me unto you,’ (Ex. 3:4.).”[4] Calvin also teaches that the enumeration of God’s attributes or perfections are enumerated only in our conception of God. He writes, “in the enumeration of his perfections, he is described not as he is in himself, but in relation to us, in order that our acknowledgement of him may be more a vivid actual impression than empty visionary speculation.”[5] This may be taken to imply the oneness of God’s attributes, or their identity with the divine essence.

He provides support for the doctrine of the Trinity, against “calumnies,” from Irenaeus, Tertullian, and even the “acknowledged doctors of the church.”[6] For Calvin, though there is controversy surrounding his understanding of the Son as autotheos, the doctrine of the Trinity is basically stated, “by the name God is understood the one simple essence, comprehending three persons or hypostases…” The one God is the three Persons, Father, Son, Spirit. He further denies subordinationism when he writes, “John, declaring that he is the true God, has no idea of placing him beneath the Father in a subordinate rank of divinity. I wonder what these fabricators of new gods mean, when they confess that Christ is truly God, and yet exclude him from the godhead of the Father, as if there could be any true God but the one God, or as if transfused divinity were not a mere modern fiction.”[7] Calvin rightly indicates that he considers subordination in God to imply there is lesser and greater distinctions in the divine essence itself, a figment contrary to the Athanasian Creed on its face. He writes, “If they grant that the Son is God, but only in subordination to the Father, the essence which in the Father is unformed and unbegotten will in him be formed and begotten.”[8] He further explains, “We must hold, therefore, that as often as Christ, in the character of Mediator, addresses the Father, he, under the term God, includes his own divinity also.”[9]

In refuting the notion of manifold wills in God, Calvin writes, “These objections originate in a spirit of pride and blasphemy. Objection, that there must be two contrary wills in God, refuted. Why the one simple will of God seems to us as if it were manifold.”[10]

We may conclude from this that Calvin would not have permitted any real distinction in the divine essence. For him, negation of real distinction in the divine essence would entail that each divine Person is truly identified with the one divine essence. They do not merely possess or participate in the divine essence. They are the divine essence—not collectively, but essentially and identifiably. Furthermore, it may be seen that, for Calvin, this implies a single will in the Godhead. Subordination is denied, and a single divine will, proper (no doubt) to the divine essence, is expressly affirmed.

Exposition of Exodus 3:14

Now that Calvin’s systematics have been explored, albeit in a very limited and brief fashion, we might move on to his exegetical theology, asking the question, “How did he get there?” It goes without saying that we can by no means exhaust this question. This brief look is only intended to peak interest in the reader. Before we observe his commentary on Exodus 3:14, I should mention that Calvin has a surprisingly robust natural theology, and so was not shy to employ philosophical help in his articulation of revealed truth. For this reason, we should take for granted that Calvin employed such help in his Trinitarian theology through terms like “essence” and “nature.” He further allows for some analogy in nature to help cast light upon the doctrine of the Trinity, but this is an article unto itself.

Very early in his exposition of Exodus 3:14, he writes, “This is very plain, that God attributes to himself alone divine glory, because he is self-existent and therefore eternal; and thus gives being and existence to every creature.”[11] This shows us that Calvin had aseity in mind early on in his exposition. He joins in near universal agreement with the orthodox interpretive tradition as to its meaning of Exodus 3:14, that God is a se or self-existent. God is Being in Himself, He exists by His very essence. Therefore, He is the One who gives being to all contingent things, i.e. creatures. His next comment is crucial, but it follows seamlessly from what has already been said, “Nor does he predicate of himself anything common, or shared by others; but he claims for himself eternity as peculiar to God alone, in order that he may be honored according to his dignity.”[12] Here, Calvin denies the notion of participation in God, which is a notion to be understood in light of the limitation of act by potency.[13]

If God is His own “to be,” it follows God does not have love or have justice; He is identical with His divine attributes. God is love, God is justice, etc. If He were not, He would participate in these perfections, as if they were perfections distinguishable from the single, simple, and perfect essence of God. As it is, however, God does not participate, God just is. Conversely, creatures have love, they have justice and are not identified with those perfections. To the extent a creature is loving or just, that creature participates in those perfections which God Himself is. He is an image, reflection, imitator of the divine Being (imago Dei).

He goes on to list the incomprehensibility of God, which implies the need for analogical language in our God-talk, “Therefore, immediately afterwards, contrary to grammatical usage, he used the same verb in the first person as a substantive, annexing it to a verb in the third person; that our minds may be filled with admiration as often as his incomprehensible essence is mentioned.”[14] Elsewhere, Calvin puts analogical predicative revelation in terms of divine “lisping.” He says, “The Anthropomorphites also, who dreamed of a corporeal God, because mouth, ears, eyes, hands, and feet, are often ascribed to him in Scripture, are easily refuted. For who is so devoid of intellect as not to understand that God, in so speaking, lisps with us as nurses are wont to do with little children?”[15] And, “Such modes of expression, therefore, do not so much express what kind of a being God is, as accommodate the knowledge of him to our feebleness. In doing so, he must, of course, stoop far below his proper height.”[16] Such language is nothing less than allusion to analogical predication.

A maxim which gained popularity during the time of the Reformation was finitum non capax infiniti, the finite cannot comprehend the infinite. It was a phrase the substance of which had been assumed long before. The infinite essence of God cannot be communicated directly to finite creatures. What can be communicated to finite creatures must, of necessity, be finite. Thus, the need for analogical predication, and even for understanding the analogical character of Scripture (with regard to God), became inestimably important in theology. The infinite God communicates to the finite creature through means it can understand, analogically. Analogical language is language of similarity through either attribution, metaphor, or proportionality. The latter is here in view. 

Analogical language is distinguished from univocal language which comprehends the thing signified, and equivocal language which uses the same word to signify completely different things. Analogical language recognizes that the creature participates, in some way, in the love of God and thus bears some similitude to the divine essence, though that similitude is exactly definable in light of the infinite essence of God.

Calvin then goes on to apparently affirm some form of Christian Platonism when he writes, “But although philosophers discourse in grand terms of this eternity, and Plato constantly affirms that God is peculiarly to on (the Being); yet they do not wisely and properly apply this title, viz., that this one and only Being of God absorbs all imaginable essences…”[17] Interestingly, this is exactly what Christians, influenced by the Neo-Platonists, would have done. Plato could account neither for the reality of the world of experience, nor for its meaningful correspondence with the forms or essences in the world of ideas. Aristotle first brought this criticism. But Christian theology caught on through the likes of Augustine, Dionysius, and Thomas Aquinas. Whereas Plato’s forms apparently subsisted in themselves without any explanatory principle preceding them, Christianity understood those forms to be found (in some way) in God.[18]

Calvin then mentions providence, the folly of dividing the deity through impious imagination, and then says, “Wherefore, in order rightly to apprehend the one God, we must first know, that all things in heaven and earth derive at His will their essence, or subsistence from One, who only truly is.”[19] In order to know God rightly, in other words, one must know God as Cause of all things. This article of knowledge Calvin appears to place in the beginning of his Institutes, prior to reaching the doctrine of Scripture.[20] Implies in his order is that such a knowledge of God is gained through nature rather than by faith, and thus might be included within natural theology.

Calvin concludes his exposition on Exodus 3:14 by considering how God, in His appearance to Moses, “teaches him that He alone is worthy of the most holy name (Jehovah),” and, “that Moses may have no doubt of overcoming all things under his guidance.”[21]

Conclusion

This is, by no means, an exhaustive commentary on Calvin’s thought concerning theology proper. But, at minimum, we should be able to conclude from the evidence presented that Calvin held to the classical (sometimes called the “over-extended”) formulation of divine simplicity. The Persons—Father, Son, and Spirit—just are the one divine essence. There is only one will in God. And there is no subordination in God. Leaving aside the accidental issues which may throw Calvin into dispute, e.g. the autothean controversy, it may be safely concluded that Calvin held to a classical doctrine of God which departed neither from the Scriptures, the creeds of the ancient church, nor the more developed theology proper of the medievals, such as Aquinas. Calvin himself thinks of his trinitarianism as being in line with all the “acknowledged doctors of the church,” of which Aquinas was knowingly a part. There is very clearly, therefore, a continuity represented in Calvin with regard to the doctrine of God, not only with his medieval predecessors but also with his successors, the Reformed Scholastic Calvinists.

Resources:

[1] Calvin, John, The John Calvin Collection: 12 Classic Works. Waxkeep Publishing. Kindle Edition. Loc. 1580.

[2] Calvin, The John Calvin Collection, Loc. 1632.

[3] Calvin, The John Calvin Collection, Loc. 2009.

[4] Calvin, The John Calvin Collection, Loc. 2118.

[5] Calvin, The John Calvin Collection, Loc. 1152

[6] Calvin, The John Calvin Collection, Loc. 2229.

[7] Calvin, The John Calvin Collection, Loc. 2197.

[8] Calvin, The John Calvin Collection, Loc. 2150.

[9] Calvin, The John Calvin Collection, Loc. 2181.

[10] Calvin, The John Calvin Collection, Loc. 3524.

[11] Calvin, John. Commentary on the Pentateuch. Titus Books. Kindle Edition. Loc. 15043.

[12] Calvin, Commentary on the Pentateuch, Loc. 15043.

[13] Cf. Clarke, Norris W., Explorations In Metaphysics, (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1994), 76-77.

[14] Calvin, Commentary on the Pentateuch, Loc. 15059.

[15] Calvin, The John Calvin Collection, Loc. 1632.

[16] Calvin, The John Calvin Collection, Loc. 1632.

[17] Calvin, Commentary on the Pentateuch, Loc. 15059.

[18] Craig Carter discusses “Christian Platonism” in his book, Interpreting Scripture with the Great Tradition. One may also find help in Louis Markos’ book, From Plato to Christ.

[19] Calvin, Commentary on the Pentateuch, Loc. 15059.

[20] Calvin, The John Calvin Collection, Loc. 197.

[21] Calvin, Commentary on the Pentateuch, Loc. 15059.

Limitation of Act by Potency

Limitation of Act by Potency

by | Apr 20, 2022 | Philosophy

The following article is an engagement paper originally submitted to IRBS in fulfillment of an assignment for Dr. James Dolezal’s Foundations of Philosophical Theology class.

Contemporary Thomistic studies largely assumes the origins for Thomas’s doctrine “limitation of act by potency” is to be properly and neatly located in Aristotle’s corpus. According to W. Norris Clarke, however, such an assumption is misguided on account of needful language nevertheless absent from Aristotle’s own body of work. If indeed Thomas received limitation of act by potency from Aristotle, one would expect to find such a doctrine in Aristotle’s own words. More significant, perhaps, is the fact that very little substantial change actually took place from the time of the pre-Socratics to the time of Aristotle in the relevant areas according to Clarke.

Norris Clarke’s Brief Observation Concerning Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange’s Assumption

Republished by contemporary scholars, such as Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, is the common assumption that Thomas received Aristotle’s conception of limitation of act by potency. Yet, to the contrary, Clarke asserts the following, “it is noteworthy that, despite the categorical assertion of Father Garrigou-Lagrange in the above quotation, neither here nor anywhere else in his numerous writings on this doctrine does he ever quote or refer to any precise text where Aristotle himself affirms the limiting role of potency with regard to act.”[1] Contrary to the common assumption mentioned above, the doctrine of limitation of act by potency does not appear in Aristotle. In point of fact, the post-Socratic philosophers appear to conceive of act as limited by its very nature, whilst potency is that which is infinite, or unlimited.

Speaking to Thomas’ own work, Clarke writes, “What is even more decisive, to my mind—and surprising, though I have never seen it reported anywhere—is the fact that throughout the entire extent of St. Thomas’s own commentaries on Aristotle, not excepting that on Book IX of Metaphysics, which deals exclusively with act and potency, there is not a single mention of potency as limiting act nor is there any occurrence of the classic formulas expressing the limitation principle which abound in his independent works.”[2] In other words, though the language of act and potency as categories find a comfortable seat in the Aristotelian corpus, the particular conception of act and potency wherein potency serves as the limiting principle of act is virtually non-existent in spite of Garrigou-Lagrange’s own thesis that, “Aristotle already taught this doctrine.”

Finitude and Infinitude in Anaximander

According to Clarke, “The term infinite (apeiron) first appears in Greek philosophy with the Pre-Socratic Anaximander, who identified it with the primal principle of all things: (1) The Non-Limited is the original material of existing things; further, the source from which existing things derive their existence is also that to which they return at their destruction, according to necessity… (3) This [the Non-Limited] is immortal and indestructible.”[3] Already, the careful reader may catch the identification of the material with the infinite (apeiron). This would appear to imply a like identification of what would eventually come to be known as the “principle of potency” with infinity (since matter must receive form as potency to act).

If it is the case that matter, and thus potency, just are “the infinite,” then conversely, act would necessarily entail limitation. This is why Clarke goes on to say, “[The problem] ‘What is the first principle out of which all things are formed?’ gradually led them—if not Anaximander, at least his successors—to identify the infinite with the indeterminate, formless substratum or raw material of the universe, the primeval chaos of matter in itself, as yet unperfected by the limit of form.”[4] The indeterminate is unlimited because, according to the mind of Anaximander, to determine something is to place limitations upon it. That which is infinite cannot be determined, and that which cannot be determined cannot be perfect. Clark continues, “According to this conception the infinity is identified with the formless, the indeterminate, the unintelligible—in a word, with matter and multiplicity, the principles and imperfection—whereas the finite or limited is identified with the fully formed, the determinate, and there the intelligible—in a word, with number, form, and idea, the principles of perfection.”[5] The infinite, so it is thought, is mutually opposed to perfection, completion, etc.

Plato

Plato further develops upon the pre-Socratics by conceiving of what are now termed act and potency as “principles” termed “the limit” and “the unlimited.” Clarke observes the relationship of these two principles in Plato as follows, “According to the Platonic metaphysics, all realities below the supreme idea of the Good (or the One) are a ‘mixture’ of two opposing principles, the limit and the unlimited, which reappear with analogical similarity on all the levels of reality from the world of ideas to the half-real world of sensible things.”[6] Thus, the limit and the unlimited “exist” idealistically and phenomenally, that is, in the world of forms and in the world of “sensible things.” Plato, then, moves the classico-philosophical world toward a more nuanced doctrine of what would eventually come to be known as act and potency. Nevertheless—and this is no surprise, but worth mentioning—the limitation of act by potency doesn’t appear in Plato’s work.

Plato goes on to identify the indeterminate with the “material cause,” or “pure matter.” Clarke observes, “The principle of illumination, on the other hand, is identified with the formlessness and indeterminacy of pure matter and multiplicity as such, and therefore with ‘otherness’ or non-being, as the source of unintelligibility and imperfection.” For Plato, “pure matter” does not appear to serve any sort of limiting purpose at all. To the contrary, that which is indeterminate apparently cannot limit since that which is indeterminate must be infinite, and thus limitless. Therefore, for both the pre-Socratics and Socrates’s greatest student, potency seems to be the least likely candidate in terms of finding a principle of limitation and thus individuation.

Aristotle

Aristotle continues the trend. For this reason, Aristotle cannot rightly be thought of as the progenitor of the Thomistic doctrine of limitation of act by potency. Characterizing Aristotle’s understanding, Clarke points out that, “No complete substance, therefore, can exist as actually infinite. The terms are mutually exclusive. For the perfect, which is but a synonym for the complete or finished, is precisely that which had an end, and the end, he says, is a limit.”[8] Being, then, cannot have an infinite “to be.” For that which is infinite cannot be circumscribed to the parameters of “being” since, if such were the case, the infinite would be determined—a sure and certain absurdity in the eyes of Aristotle.

Summing up his view, Clark recapitulates Aristotle’s own summary, “Nature flees from the infinite, for the infinite is unending or imperfect, and nature ever seeks an end.”[9] Following in the footsteps of Anaximander and Plato, Aristotle does not view what is now called “potency” as a limiting principle. For Aristotle, formless matter (potency) is infinite and thus diametrically opposed to limitation. Nevertheless, according to Clarke, Thomas is still able to appropriate Aristotle along with a major qualification. He writes, “St. Thomas takes over intact this perspective into his own system. But he adds to it another dimension, so to speak, in which the relations are reversed and matter also appears as limiting form.”[10] Whereas Aristotle and his predecessors view matter/potency as the infinite, boundless, and thus, unlimited, Thomas makes matter/potency the “limiting form.”

Further developing his observation of Thomas’s conception, Clarke continues by saying, “Whatever is capable of change of any kind—and only that—must have within it in addition to its present act a principle of potency, or capacity to receive a further act… Act, on the other hand, is always identified with the fully complete, the actually present. Pure act, therefore, is simply a correlative of the immutable, i.e., of pure actualized form, complete in all that is proper to is and incorruptible.”[11] Potency is capacity—a want or lack within a thing—which nevertheless represents what that thing could be. Potency, then, is the limiting principle. Act, contrary to the pre-Socratics, Plato, and Aristotle, is identified with that which is complete or perfect. The only question remaining is, What bridges the gap between Aristotle and Thomas? Is there some other source which may have helped Thomas develop this doctrine of limitation of act by potency?

The Neoplatonism of Plotinus

The Neoplatonism of Plotinus would introduce and apply the metaphysics of the “One” in the baffling equation of infinity and limitation. The “One” would virtually function as a synonym for God, “a synonym for infinite: uncircumscribed (agerigraphos).”[12] Not of little importance, Clarke notes, “The first Christian texts calling God infinite do not appear till the fourth century, and precisely in those circles which are known to have been influenced by Neoplatonism.”[13] 

Neoplatonism casts the discussion of infinite and limited in terms of a higher metaphysic that looks above the formal object of the natural sciences, i.e. the material world. God, the infinite, now stands over and above the created essences, such that, “the old Platonic order or limited, intelligible essences, composed of form as perfecting limit imposed on the infinity of sensible or ‘intelligible’ matter, is still preserved. But their relation to the supreme One by emanation introduces a new dimension of function of the limiting principle, that of limiting what is above it as well as what is below it.”[14] Clarke clarifies thereafter, saying, “In this perspective all the intelligible essences below the One now appear as limited and hence imperfect participations of this supremely perfect and absolutely simple first principle, which somehow embraces within itself the perfection of all the lower determinate essences but is none of them in particular.”[15]

Therefore, with Neoplatonism came the philosophical precursors to a doctrine of limitation of act by potency to an extent not seen in Aristotle or those who came before him. If the “One” is infinite, and if all things below it are finite or limited, yet are by virtue of their imitation or participation in the “One,” that which is (act) is necessarily limited by that which is not but could possibly be (potency).

Concluding with Thomas Aquinas

In light of the above, Thomas reaches his monumental conclusion, “Act is not limited except by reception in a distinct potency.”[16] Such a conclusion, of course, while perhaps influenced negatively by Aristotle and his predecessors, is positively developed in light of the preceding, and more relatively recent, Neoplatonism. Act just is and is limited only by potency. But we must observe with Clarke that this language, however influenced by both Aristotelianism and Neoplatonism, is actually neither properly so called. As Clarke puts it, “The final result of the fusion of the two theories into a single coherent synthesis can thus properly be called neither Aristotelianism nor Neoplatonism. It is something decisively new, which can only be styled, ‘Thomism.’”[17]

The pre-Socratics, Plato, and Aristotle identified what amounts to act with determinacy and finitude. For them, “act” was mutually exclusive to “potency,” as limitation is mutually exclusive to infinity. Neoplatonism, however, saw the “One” as the infinite, created essences being limited and finite. This new relation paved the way for understanding the finite and the infinite in a more coherent way. Thomas understood God to be the infinite, or pure act, creation being composed of act limited by potency.

Resources:

[1] Clarke, Norris W., Explorations In Metaphysics, (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1994), 67.

[2] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 68.

[3] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 69.

[4] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 69.

[5] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics,70.

[6] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 71.

[7] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 71.

[8] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 73.

[9] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 73.

[10] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 73.

[11] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 74.

[12] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 76.

[13] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 76.

[14] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 76. Emphasis added.

[15] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 76-77.

[16] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 80.

[17] Clarke, Explorations In Metaphysics, 81.

Yes, We Still Believe Sola Scriptura—A Response to Dr. Sam Waldron

Yes, We Still Believe Sola Scriptura—A Response to Dr. Sam Waldron

by | Apr 15, 2022 | Confessionalism

That those who hold to classical theism and the originalist intent of the Reformed confessions have embraced the antonym of sola Scriptura is not only baseless, but it also appears to be what might be aptly called a red herring. 

What is a “red herring”? 

A “red herring” is a distracting argument, retort, or allegation intended to take attention away from the relevant issues. The most relevant “red herring,” for our purposes, is the allegation that those brothers imbibing classical theism have begun to compromise on the doctrine of sola Scriptura. Expressing his concern in a recent article, Dr. Sam Waldron writes, “With such clear and crucial scriptural truth and confessional affirmation before us, it is nothing less than shocking to be confronted in recent years with assertions by Reformed men that (seem to me) directly undermine the truth of the supremacy and sufficiency of sola scriptura.”

Waldron offers what we might call circumstantial “proof” for this alleged slippery slope. That is to say, no one currently on the front lines propagating classical theism has directly called into question the doctrine of sola Scriptura. And, for what it’s worth, those same individuals are currently trying to prevent the drastic revision of Reformation and post-Reformation doctrine.

The doctrinal landscape doesn’t look too good. On the one hand, Waldron and others are criticizing confessional Reformed Baptists for neglecting sola Scriptura, a reformational doctrine no doubt. On the other hand, these same confessional Reformed Baptists (currently under the gun) are actively promoting and defending reformational doctrines, beginning with the doctrine of God—the causal foundation of sola Scriptura in the first place!

As Bertrand Russel would say in his debate with Frederick Copleston, “We are at an impasse!”

Two arms of Reformedom—classical trinitarianism and sola Scriptura—are at apparent odds with one another. But how is this so? Either the side alleging compromise regarding sola Scriptura has gotten its definition wrong, or every framer of every Reformed confession of the 17th century had no idea what sola Scriptura meant. I would imagine the former would be off-limits to interlocutors like Waldron, leaving only the latter. But is it really the case that the confessional framers were wrong about sola Scriptura? It’s possible. But are we even equipped to make that kind of a judgment call? And how egotistically bloated are we if we bow out our chest, thump it a few times while saying, “Of course we are!” Our friends don’t appear to go there, not presently at least. Although, increasingly I think they’re becoming flirtatious with that idea (cf. words on Waldron’s closing toward the end of this article).

Given what I’ve expressed above, I will make the assumption throughout this article that we all agree with the confessional doctrine of Scripture as stated in places like the Second London Confession (1677/89), 1.1.

Why I am Concerned

After asserting his alignment with the confessional doctrine of Scripture, Waldron begins giving reasons for his “concerns” in the form of five un-sourced statements. Why they are un-sourced, I’m not entirely sure. One would think if the subject-matter were so “concerning,” the vulnerable would need to know what to look out for and from which direction it may be coming. Instead, Waldron offers five statements of what amounts to hearsay. Thankfully, for the readers of this article, some friends of mine have gathered citations for two of the statements. I will include those citations when I come to them.

First Troubling Statement

The first statement says, “Semper Reformanda … does not mean changing doctrine, but it means applying the doctrine to our lives. It is a clarion call to a vital experiential understanding of the truth in the lives of Christ’s sheep. So it’s not changing our doctrine, but applying the doctrine that we already know to be biblical.” Waldron is quick to call foul, writing, “it seems to me, whatever semper reformanda originally meant, we must embrace the notion that our confessions are subject to being reformed on the basis of sola scriptura.” One has to wonder, however: If we were to engage in revising our confessions, would it truly be on the basis of Scripture, or would it be on the basis of our interpretation of Scripture?

I’m not sure about you, but I live over three-hundred years into Enlightenment history. I have picked up bad habits from the teachers of my culture, my society, my educational system, and even my own parents (and they from theirs, and so on). It’s a perennial, generational issue because since at least the 17th century, the culture has been soaked in a thousand different idealisms all vying for first place.

We are, to some degree, an intellectual product of the circumstances in which we live. Thankfully, in order to transcend our immediate milieu, we have things like formal logic useful for analysis of the present, but we also have history, in which we explore the what and the why of yesteryear. Maybe earlier ages had lesser intellectual and societal baggage than we do. Scripture itself testifies to the wisdom of looking back to older generations when it says, “Do not remove the ancient landmark Which your fathers have set” (Prov. 22:28). YHWH, in Jeremiah 6:16, says, “Ask for the old paths, where the good way is, And walk in it.”

It would be naive, if not arrogant (or both), to suggest we have the individualistic wherewithal to approach revision of the confessions when we ourselves, as Particular Baptists, have barely scratched the surface in our understanding of the background behind the confessional language in the first place. The current debate demonstrates this to be the case. Therefore, we ought to beware, lest we, rather than Scripture, are the ones doing the revising.

Second Troubling Statement

The second statement is from an article posted on The London Lyceum in review of Jeffrey Johnson’s recent book, The Failure of Natural Theology. It reads—

2LCF 1.1 confesses the following: “The Holy Scripture is the only sufficient, certain, and infallible rule of all saving knowledge, faith, and obedience…” Notice what Scripture is sufficient for. Is it everything? No. It is not sufficient for changing the oil on my truck. It is not sufficient for installing a new hard drive in my computer. It is sufficient for saving knowledge, faith, and obedience. Everything necessary for the Christian life is found in the Bible. But not every detail of the faith is there.

For Waldron, this statement appears mostly correct, except for the last line, “But not every detail of the faith is there.” Waldron rebuts with the confessional language which, in context, reads, “The Holy Scripture is the only sufficient, certain, and infallible rule of all saving knowledge, faith, and obedience…” But Waldron actually changes the sense of this statement by summarizing it as, “Scripture is the only rule for faith.” This is not what the Confession says. 

The Confession states that the Scripture is the only sufficient, certain, and infallible rule of all saving knowledge, faith, and obedience…” Scripture is the only sufficient rule for faith, but it is not the only informant of our faith, which is what the guys over at The London Lyceum seem to mean. Jordan Steffaniak, the author of the statement in question, goes on to write, “This does not mean we need things outside of Scripture for ‘saving knowledge, faith, and obedience…’ But if we want to both know and enjoy God to the maximum degree, we ought to utilize all the means God has given us in his good creation.”

Certainly the heavens informed David’s faith, “The heavens declare the glory of God; And the firmament shows His handiwork” (Ps. 19:1). And Paul explicitly tells us that God has given us (both unbelievers and believers) a witness through providence, “in that He did good, gave us rain from heaven and fruitful seasons, filling our hearts with food and gladness” (Acts 14:17). These texts assume a circumstance that preceded the texts themselves, namely, the witness of God through nature accessible to all men. The book of Scripture does not change, add, or annul, but assumes, that which may be gleaned through the book of nature. Thus, there doesn’t appear to be legitimate concern here. And, there is no departure from the confessional doctrine of Scripture.

Third Troubling Statement

The third statement is from Matthew Barrett’s recent book, Simply Trinity, pp. 65-66. Bear in mind that Barrett clearly says things like, “the Nicene Creed is not a dead letter; rather, it carries authority to this day. No, it is not on par with Scripture; it is not a source of divine revelation (p. 65).” Yet, this is never mentioned in Waldron’s representation. What Waldron does quote is partly from the book-proper, but mostly from a side-note on the synchronic definition of the term heresy (how it has been understood in its classical setting). The whole of the quote reads—

To depart from the creed is to depart from scriptural teaching itself. … Heresy is a belief that contradicts, denies, or undermines a doctrine that an ecumenical church council has declared biblical and essential to Christianity. What makes heresy so subtle and dangerous? It is nurtured within the church and is wrapped within Christian vocabulary. Its representatives even quote the Bible. It often presents itself as the whole truth when it is a half-truth.

Why Waldron selected these two parts to go together in his representation of Barrett’s words is a mystery. He certainly did not represent the author well. Barrett clearly says, “since [the Nicene Creed] conforms to Scripture, it is to be adhered to, confessed, and celebrated in the church to this day. To depart from the creed is to depart from scriptural teaching itself.”

In other words, Barrett is clearly setting forth what everyone ought to agree with. When someone or something speaks the Word of God clearly and accurately, it also does so authoritatively (to the extent it gets it right). If the Nicene Creed is in line with the biblical data, then it carries authority. It is, to use the older language, not the norming norm (Scripture), but the normed norm. The creeds are designed to norm us, though they themselves are normed by a higher standard, the Scripture. So, again, there is nothing of concern here. There is nothing that suggests a departure from an orthodox understanding of Scripture.

Fourth Troubling Statement

The fourth statement comes from a friend of Waldron’s after having a conversation with some fellow Reformed brethren. I am going to refrain from commenting on this particular statement since it is said to have come from what appears to have been a private conversation. I do not want to speculate on meaning, intention, etc.

Fifth Troubling Statement

Waldron summarizes this last statement as, “Thomas Aquinas held to sola Scriptura.” Since this article comes with virtually no source material cited, I cannot determine whether this is something truly being stated and seriously defended. But suffice it to say this concern of Waldron’s illustrates the difficulty of summarizing an entire doctrine of Scripture with the moniker sola Scriptura. 

Sola Scriptura is a statement designed to affirm the preeminence of Scripture’s authority over other authorities, because it comes from God, “The authority of the Holy Scripture, for which it ought to be believed, dependeth not upon the testimony of any man or church, but wholly upon God (who is truth itself), the author thereof; therefore it is to be received because it is the Word of God” (2LBCF, 1.4).

If this is all we mean by sola Scriptura, then Thomas Aquinas believed sola Scriptura. If, however, we mean more than the above statement on primary authority, then, well, Thomas most likely did not believe in sola Scriptura. For example, in the Summa Theologiae, he makes this statement about unwritten apostolic teaching—

The Apostles, led by the inward instinct of the Holy Spirit, handed down to the churches certain instructions which they did not put in writing, but which have been ordained, in accordance with the observance of the Church as practiced by the faithful as time went on. Wherefore the Apostle says (2 Thess 2:14): Stand fast; and hold the traditions which you have learned, whether by word—that is by word of mouth—or by our epistle—that is by word put into writing. Among these traditions is the worship of Christ’s image. Wherefore it is said that Blessed Luke painted the image of Christ, which is in Rome (ST, III. Q. 25, A. 3).

Would we disagree with this? Of course. In our estimation, oral tradition is neither a parallel nor a coequal source of authority alongside Scripture. To be fair, however, a parallel source of divinely inspired, but unwritten, instruction did not feature in Thomas’ work to the extent one might expect. Nevertheless, no one wants to argue Thomas held to sola Scriptura in the broadest sense of that term. But did he believe Scripture was the chief authority and source of the chief science (sacred theology)? Yes he did. Furthermore, in other places, he appears to make the “doctors of the church” subordinate to Scripture, “Nevertheless, sacred doctrine makes use of these authorities as extrinsic and probable arguments; but properly uses the authority of the canonical Scriptures as an incontrovertible proof, and the authority of the doctors of the Church as one that may properly be used, yet merely as probable” (ST, Q. 1, A. 8, C. 3).

Waldron further complains that in his Commentary on the Gospel of John, Thomas says, “The reason is that only canonical Scripture is a measure of faith.” This is certainly not a statement implying some belief in sola Scriptura, Waldron retorts. He writes, “First, the contrast Thomas is drawing in context is between canonical Scripture and non-canonical writings. He is not contrasting Scripture with the oral traditions of the church.” In the actual context, there is nothing necessitating this observation. It appears to be conjecture. He further says, “Second, he does not say that the canonical Scripture is the measure of faith, but ‘a measure of faith.’ The author of the article on this site makes this point clearly.” Since Thomas, Waldron thinks, does not say “the measure of faith,” but, “a measure of faith,” he cannot possibly hold to sola Scriptura.

However, we have to remember something: Thomas wrote in Latin. In Latin, there are no articles, e.g. “the” or “a.” Articles have to be added into the English translation. In fact, my translation has Thomas writing, “The reason for this is that only the canonical Scriptures are the standard of faith.”

One Last Issue

Waldron converses at length in an effort to repel allegations of biblicism apparently launched in his direction. I will not cover this conversation here. What I would like to do at this point is look at his closing words. He ends his article by asking the question, “Did the Development of Doctrine Cease in the 17th Century?” In this section, he affirms his love for the high Reformed and Puritan theologians of the 17th century, and then adds—

But I cannot accept the view that the development of doctrine ceased in the 17th century. This really seems to be the perspective of some. The New Testament teaches that the organic development of Christ’s church continues throughout this age and only ceases when the church is finally built and Christ returns. This infers the development of doctrine throughout this age.

Jude 3 says, “Beloved, while I was very diligent to write to you concerning our common salvation, I found it necessary to write to you exhorting you to contend earnestly for the faith which was once for all delivered to the saints.” Doctrine itself does not develop. It is what it is, as God revealed it. Is there work that goes into properly understanding this doctrine? Yes. This is why we should make a distinction between doctrine in itself (in se) as an object of human knowledge, and doctrine as it exists—to a greater or lesser degree—in the mind of the knowing subject (in subiecto). Does our understanding grow over the years? Yes, it most certainly does—and I think this is what Waldron is getting at.

However, we must keep in view what that means. This is our understanding. Are we ready to assert our understanding over and against those who have gone before us? To answer this question, we have to take a humble posture and ask, “Are we even equipped to take up such a task?” The answer would unequivocally be, “No!” We have not properly understood the doctrine of the confessions up to this point in a way that would allow us to fruitfully disagree with them. Less than 30 years ago, the majority of American Christians were Arminians, and they didn’t even know it. We are seriously behind! 

Further, we most certainly have not even begun to grasp the hermeneutical methodology that led to the framers’ dogmatic reflections. Once we can confidently say we’ve penciled all this through, we can assert our objections and make revisions. My suspicion, however, is that we are nowhere near capable of performing this task with any shred of humility or skill.

In the 17th century, Cartesian rationalism dawned. In the 18th century, idealism dawned in the face of skepticism. In the 19th century, fideism and biblicism served as the reactionary fruit of the first two centuries. The 20th century gave us the industrial revolution, the sexual revolution, an expansion of the governmental educational system—the likes of which the world has never seen—and the rapid influence of feminism. Not only this, but from the 19th century onward, concomitant with fideism as its opposite, higher criticism took textual interpretation by storm. Nicene (partitive) exegesis was largely lost, the sensus plenoir entirely disrupted, and we can go ahead and forget about the anologia fide. We are dealing with a plethora of influences, each competing for maximal pressure in terms of our understanding of life’s greatest questions.

How can we seriously look back to our forefathers, who did not have (by the way) this same intellectual baggage, and presume to revise their work? We are not ready, beloved! Waldron cites the developments in eschatology since the 17th century. Supposedly, we have made strides since then. I do not believe this is the case. There is more divisiveness and confusion concerning eschatology than there ever was in the pre-modern and early modern eras. Eschatology, in fact, appeared much more cogent, generally, in the first five centuries of the church’s history than it does now.

Waldron ends by saying, “We must not assume the perfection and finality of the High Reformed construction of doctrine. They did not assume it. We should not either. All of our development of doctrine is subject to the lord and master, sola scriptura!” Ironically, however, Waldron would have to assume his own finality or primacy if he were to revise the confessional dogmas, and that goes for anyone who would enter upon that humbling task. Likewise, to cut the creeds and confessions from any definition of orthodoxy turns orthodoxy into nothing more than a was nose. Every man, it seems, gets to define both orthodoxy and heresy without any reference to guiding traditionary influences. But this does nothing more than transfer the powers of the magisterium from the Vatican to the study desk. Universal popery and individual popery function on the same fundamental principles. Thankfully, a confessional understanding and placement of tradition helps us to avoid either of these extremes.

Whatever happened to our humble admission that the men who went before us knew better than us? Why do we now turn a suspicious eye toward our forefathers? Have we really become skeptics? Confessional agnostics? Is that how we read our fathers in the faith, with skepticism rather than optimistic trust in Christ—that He indeed was building His church then as He is now? And should we not work within that apparatus instead of doubting everything that precedes us?

I will end with a quote by Matthew Barrett, who eloquently summarizes the issue here and provides a succinct solution: “Our default instinct should not be a hermeneutic of suspicion but a hermeneutic of trust, one that breeds humility, an eagerness to sit as a pupil at the feet of orthodoxy rather than stand over it as its lord” (Simply Trinity, p. 66).

When Scripture Becomes A Wax Nose

When Scripture Becomes A Wax Nose

by | Apr 6, 2022 | Biblical Theology, Confessionalism, Hermeneutics, Philosophy

With the contemporary skeptical approach to natural theology has come an influx of Trinitarian and Christological errors. Why is this? Probably because a rejection of the natural truths God reveals about Himself through nature will inevitably lead to a rejection of those same truths even as they come through Scripture—or at least there will be a drastic reinterpretation of them. Immutability, simplicity, self-existence—all three may be known about God through natural revelation. This is what Thomas demonstrates in his Summa Theologiae, and it is what was understood to be the case in the first generation Reformers onward (cf. John Calvin’s Institutes, Book I).

What happens when the data of natural revelation falls by the wayside? The same data perfectly and perspicuously presented in the Scriptures is interpreted on the supposition of some other metaphysical or epistemological standard (admittedly or not). This other standard is what fills the vacuum left by the first principles given through nature. We are then left with the problem of biblicism. But with biblicism, one is not allowed to carry a natural understanding of God into the interpretive task in any measure. Scripture becomes the soul witness to immutability, simplicity, and self-existence. This is not in itself a problem, since Scripture ought to be received because it is from God—the highest Authority. But when the individual Bible-reader rejects the testimony of nature, Scripture becomes a wax nose formable to whatever philosophy he uncritically and unwittingly imbibes.

When Turretin says that natural theology functions as “a subjective condition in man for the admission of the light of grace because God does not appeal to brutes and stocks, but to rational creatures,”[1] he means that man, as imago Dei, possesses a natural intellect providentially direct by God to appropriate Scriptural data. God’s Scriptural appeal is made to rational creatures. And when, by grace, a rational creature is made to accept and trust in the truth of Scripture, his rational appetites are not extinguished but improved. 

Biblicism rejects the reality of the light of reason before and after regeneration. It’s not that the biblicist doesn’t use the light of reason; it’s that he uses it unacknowledged. And rather than critically examine his own philosophical assumptions using the light of reason, keeping the good ones while exiling the bad ones, he refuses to acknowledge he has any philosophical assumptions at all even though he does. This unexamined life then leads to an always-shifting understanding of biblical meaning. 

If a person’s philosophical assumptions change, so will their interpretational approach to Scripture. Just observe the historical-causal connection between the Enlightenment of the 18th century and the church’s interpretational method before and after that period of time. Or, if you like, look at the theological changes that took place from the pre-modern era into the modern era. If philosophical assumptions are never given a voice, they’ll always be changing. A person can only consciously hold their position in place if they are conscious of it.

There is no approaching Scripture as a tabula rasa (blank slate), even after regeneration. A person is going to approach Scripture with some kind of a philosophical precommitment. Classical theism offers a transparent, commonsensical philosophy. Simply put, the light of nature prepares for the introduction of the light of Scripture. The light of nature informs our understanding of Scripture, and Scripture turns us back to nature so that we can understand it to a greater and more perfect extent. And thus, the classical theist may employ natural theology in service to specially revealed theology derived from the Scriptures. Those who reject classical theism cannot see how natural theology may be used in service to supernatural theology.

As a result, they not only remain happily ignorant of the sophisticated expression of the faith, found in the terminology of the creeds and confessions, they actively combat it. It is one thing to remain in ignorance, it is quite another to be confronted with further truths and react by recalcitrantly rejecting those truths. While one may permissibly be ignorant of the more articulate expression of the Christian faith, they do not have permission to reject that articulate expression of the Christian faith should it be true.

Resources:

[1] Turretin, Francis, Institutes of Elenctic Theology, Vol. I, (Phillipsburg: P & R Publishing, 1992), 10.

Philosophy & Preambles of Faith

Philosophy & Preambles of Faith

by | Mar 31, 2022 | Philosophy

The following article is an engagement paper originally submitted to IRBS in fulfillment of an assignment for Dr. James Dolezal’s Foundations of Philosophical Theology class.

The distinction between the preambles of faith and the articles of faith refer to that which may be demonstrated through reason and that which is apprehended by faith, respectively. Furthermore, it might even be said that the preambles of faith and the articles of faith respect two distinct formal objects of two distinct sciences—philosophy and theology.

Philosophy, as a science, has as its formal object metaphysics, or being qua being, which is principle to and presupposed by any science considering being under a certain specification, e.g. the natural sciences. Whereas the science of theology regards God and all things in relation to God, philosophy facilitates the study of preambulatory ontology allowing the theologian to properly conceive of God and things as they relate to Him.

In sum, therefore, the preambles of faith are those things which may be apprehended through reason, given through general revelation. While the articles of faith are those things which must be apprehended by faith in the subject, given by special revelation. Articles of faith, strictly speaking, cannot be demonstrated through sensory observation of the natural world, nor can they be deduced through reason. They must be revealed by God through Scripture, which is the source of redemptive knowledge. The preambles of faith are revealed in nature and may be known by reason, yet they are also presupposed and thus revealed in Scripture. These preambles of faith are sometimes called “mixed articles” since they are revealed in both nature and Scripture, while articles of faith are sometimes called “pure articles” because they must be received by faith from Scripture alone as their source.

Philosophy, then, is assigned to inquiry concerning the preambles of faith. And theology is assigned to inquiry concerning the articles of faith revealed through Scripture. The former is a lower science that cannot attain to the latter, higher science of theology apart from special revelation and faith in the subject. While it is true this lower science of philosophy can attain to a natural theology, the use of the term “theology” used above and throughout this article regards the science whose formal object is the articles of faith communicated through special revelation alone.

Engaging Preambles of Faith & Articles of Faith

According to John Wippel, Thomas Aquinas makes this same distinction in his commentary on Boethius’ De Trinitate, “Thomas uses the terms ‘preamble’ and ‘preambulatory’ in somewhat different but related senses, that is, to refer to other sciences as preparatory sciences (in scientiis praembulis) for metaphysics, and to refer to the many praembula required to reach knowledge of divine things. But common to all of these usages is the notion that a preamble is something that is in some way presupposed for something else.”[1] Preambles, as in “preambles of faith,” are presupposed by the articles of faith, as nature is presupposed by grace (since grace does not obliterate, but is given for nature’s improvement; cf. Rom. 8:18-30). An example might be the incarnation of Christ. The incarnation of Christ is not a doctrine revealed and thus known through nature but only through Scripture. Nevertheless, the incarnation assumes nature in that the Son took to Himself the fullness of a human nature—a true body and a reasonable soul.[2] The grace of the gospel, though known only by a faith informed by special revelation, presupposes nature because nature is the very object upon which that grace terminates. Without nature, there would be nothing for grace to redeem.

Though something of the relationship between preambles of faith and articles of faith can be seen above, there is more to observe. Wippel states, “As regards preambles of faith, here Thomas has indicated that they are certain truths that faith presupposes and that philosophy demonstrates… there can be no doubt that Thomas Aquinas holds that natural reason can demonstrate such preambles of faith, beginning with the existence of God.”[3] Wippel finds (12) preambles of faith in the work of Thomas Aquinas, though he leaves room for an extension of that number upon further considerations. These preambula include God’s existence, that God is one, that God is infinite, and that God is a creative principle. Admittedly, Wippel did not discuss divine providence in his total because he addresses it elsewhere, though it should be included as well.[4] That the existence of God is made a preamble in the thought of Thomas is undeniable, and most certainly seems necessary upon the hypothesis of the constitution of the natural world.

That God may be demonstratively known through what has been made has drawn some criticism because of the difficulty of such a task. However, it is important to understand that Thomas did not hang the entire weight of divine knowability on a person’s aptitude to demonstrate God’s existence. While articles of faith are sourced by Scripture and not accessible through nature, preambles of faith are often sourced by both nature and Scripture. Wippel expresses Thomas’ thought well, “Since natural knowledge of God will be acquired only late in life, and since our entire lives should be guided throughout by our knowledge of God, it is necessary that those truths that are naturally knowable about God should be held by faith from the beginning of our lives insofar as they are presupposed for faith and are not yet known naturally by us.”[5] In other words, the preambles of faith, while demonstrable through nature (leading to natural knowledge) can also be apprehended by faith since the articles of faith presuppose them. For example, a person may not have proven God’s existence through the argument from motion, but he has come to believe the first statement in Scripture, “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth (Gen. 1:1).” Therefore, those who are unable to prove God’s existence through nature, e.g. young children, invalids, those with lower aptitude, etc., may apprehend God’s existence by faith (per accidens) even though it falls among the preambula rather than the articles of faith per se.

Something must now be said concerning the practical relationship between preambles of faith and articles of faith as the former is used to inform our understanding of the latter and vice versa. While demonstration of preambles is not necessary to one’s personal faith, since all the preambles requisite to faith are presupposed by the articles of faith, e.g. the Trinity (an article of faith) presupposes the existence of God, it (demonstration) can be profitable in the development of a person’s understanding of God and also in the defense of the articles of faith from faulty philosophical objections. Wippel writes, “if someone succeeds in demonstrating [God’s existence], one will have deepened one’s understanding of God and will have advanced in the pursuit of wisdom; but such a person will not in any way have reached scientific knowledge of the article of faith itself.”[6] It is fitting one should work through the proofs because it benefits the knower. However, no matter how sound the proof is, it will never attain redemptive knowledge of God. Demonstration of God leading to a natural knowledge of God will not yield knowledge of that which must be apprehended by faith. That God is one in three, the incarnation, penal substitutionary atonement, etc., must be received by faith from Scripture. Only then is the “scientific knowledge of the article of faith itself” reached.

This brings us to the question of foundations. Are preambles of faith foundational to articles of faith?

If they are, in what sense must such a dynamic be understood? Quoting Thomas, Wippel notes, “But among those things that are to be considered about God in himself, one must put before everything else as the necessary foundation for the entire work the consideration by which it is demonstrated that God exists. Without this, every consideration about divine things is necessarily undermined.”[7] In terms of the individual, we have seen that Thomas does not believe he must necessarily begin with a demonstration of the preambles in his own thinking. In fact, as Thomas admits, this is a difficult task and if anyone does succeed at it, it will be later in life. Yet, in terms of a “work” on theology, such as the Summa Theologiae or the Summa contra Gentiles, where the task becomes systematization, the preambles must come first. Without the existence of God, there is no further elaboration upon the doctrine of the Trinity. Apart from the existence of God, the incarnation of the Son of God means very little if anything at all. In this sense, therefore, the preambles of the faith are preparatory to the articles of faith (in scientiis praembulis) and thus may be referred to as “foundational.”[8] However, as Wippel made clear elsewhere, demonstration of the preambles are by no means necessary to the redemption of the individual. While it is prudent to demonstrate God’s existence, such demonstration is by no means a condition lying between the sinner and the gates of glory.

Conclusion

According to Wippel, then, Thomas distinguished between the preambles of faith and the articles of faith. The preambles of faith may be known by the light of reason, and demonstrated through what has been made. The articles of faith may be known only by the light of special revelation, the source of which is the Holy Scriptures. The articles of faith are not demonstrable by reason, but lie beyond that which reason may attain by itself. However, the preambles of faith are related to the articles of faith in that the articles of faith presuppose the preambles. Since this is the case, the preambles of faith can help us better understand the articles of faith. The unity of the Godhead (a preamble of faith), for example, is not only helpful but necessary in an orthodox conception of the Holy Trinity, i.e. one God subsisting in three subsistences or relations—Father, Son, and Spirit. To understand something of metaphysics is incredibly useful in distinguishing Person and nature. These are natural concepts not exclusively revealed through Scripture. Yet, they are helpful in understanding that which is exclusively revealed through Scripture—the incarnate Son of God.

Resources:

[1] Wippel, John F., The Science of Being as Being, (Washington D. C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2012), 199.

[2] The Baptist Catechism, Q. 25.

[3] Wippel, The Science of Being as Being, 198.

[4] Ibid., 220.

[5] Ibid., 202.

[6] Ibid., 203.

[7] Ibid., 212.

[8] Ibid., 199.