Two Forms of Becoming

By Cynthia R. Nielsen

In chapter 2 of his book Presence and Thought: An Essay on the Religious Philosophy of Gregory of Nyssa, Balthasar discusses two forms of becoming. In the previous chapter he had set forth that idea that time constitutes the foundation of material being. He then adds that if this is the case, then “physical movement is itself founded on a primordial movement, a metaphysical movement, so to speak, which is common to all creatures: namely, the passage from nothingness to existence” (p. 37). Only God as uncreated is not subject to change, whereas created beings are essentially becoming beings. As Gregory states, “[s]ince it possesses the beginning (ἀρχη) of its being by way of change, it is impossible that it should not be entirely variable (τρεπτός)” [Catech. 21; II, 57 D]. Speaking to the different varieties of created being, viz., material and spiritual, Balthasar notes that if we consider time as category of created being, the continuance in change for material being is precisely time. Alternatively, for the spiritual being, continual becoming “is a participation in the cause of being not only insofar as it is source but also insofar as it is end” (p. 37). This participation in God is described by Gregory as follows: “Creation stands within the realm of the beautiful only through a participation in that which is the best. It has not begun merely at one point or another to exist, but at every moment it is perceived to be in its beginning stages on account of its perpetual growth toward that which is the best” [C. Eunom. 8; II, 797 A]. Both material and spiritual (created) being displays a kind of infinity—the former, in the horizontal realm of the quantitative and of number, and the latter, in an unending vertical ascent given the infinity of the source to which it seeks to be united, viz., God. As Gregory explains, “[n]ever will the soul reach its final perfection, for it will never encounter a limit, … it will always be transformed into a better thing.” […] “Since the First Good is infinite in its nature, communion with it on the part of the one whose thirst is quenched by it will have to be infinite as well, capable of being enlarged forever” [C. Eunom. I; II, 340 D]. All of this leads Balthasar to the following conclusion:

“there are two forms of becoming, the two of them together yielding the total formula for the analogy of being. One of these two is the horizontal movement of created being, which is to say, its foundation of nothingness, which separates it eternally from God, inasmuch as pure potentiality (time) is in itself κένωμα καὶ οὐδέν [emptiness and nothingness]. The other expresses the ascending movement of becoming, which is the innate idea and desire for God in the creature” (p. 38)[1]

Notes
[1] In footnote 9, Balthasar adds, “we are not dealing here with innate ideas in the sense of modern philosophy […] but rather in the sense of the Stoics (Cicero: De nat. deor. II, 12)” [p. 38].

Part II: Heiko Oberman on Scripture and Tradition: A Clash of Two Concepts

By Cynthia R. Nielsen

In the second section of his essay, Oberman moves into a discussion of the concept of tradition that characterized the fourth and fifth centuries. First, however, he summarizes two important points of the pre-Augustinian concept of tradition: (1) “The immediate divine origin of tradition together with the insistence on a clearly circumscribed series of historical acts of God in the rule of faith or the rule of truth;” (2) “The rejection of extra-scriptural tradition.”

Oberman begins by appealing to the work of Father George Tavard. In his book Holy Writ or Holy Church, Tavard claims that a seamless continuity of the organic relation of scripture and tradition existed between patristic and medieval theology until the 14th century. However, two new currents of thought began to threaten this understanding: (1) “one which opposes the Scriptures to the Church in admitting the possibility that only a remnant in the visible Church would be obedient to Scripture;” (2) “one which introduces the concept of post-apostolic and oral traditions and raises the Holy See to the dignity of judge of post-apostolic revelation” (p. 276). With the canon lawyers, according to Tavard we see a break with “medieval classicism. Living authority replaces both Scripture and its traditional interpretation” (Holy Writ or Holy Church, p. 39, as cited in Oberman, p. 276). Yet, Tavard also points out that the opposing group, viz., those who claimed that Scripture alone was the sole standard of truth for the Church, were also responsible for destroying the patristic-medieval unity—“from this to the doctrines of the Reformation there is only a difference of degree” (Holy Writ or Holy Church, p. 40, as cited in Oberman, p. 276).

According to Oberman, the shift away from the coinherence of Scripture and Church as maintained by the patristic-medieval vision that Tavard highlights can be traced back to the early Middle Ages—specifically to Basil the Great (c. 330-370) whose views on the subject where later propagated by Augustine. A new concept of tradition is set forth in Basil’s work, On the Holy Spirit. “We meet here for the first time the idea that the Christian owes equal respect and obedience to the written and to the unwritten ecclesiastical traditions, whether they are contained in the canonical writings or in the secret oral tradition handed down by the Apostles through succession” (p. 277). A number of canon lawyers (e.g., Ivo of Chartres and Gratian of Bologna) circulate Basil’s ideas in their writings and thus help to establish the two-sources theory for canon lawyers. For the medieval doctor of theology, however, Scripture remains the “authoritative source which stands in judgment over the interpretation of later commentators. The term ‘sacred page’ for theology is indicative for this close relationship” (p. 277). Such a view can be seen in St. Thomas Aquinas’ work. In the Summa Theologica, Thomas writes, “sacred doctrine makes use of these authorities [those of the philosophers] 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. For our faith rests upon the revelation made to the apostles and prophets who wrote the canonical books, and not on the revelations (if any such there are) made to other doctors. Hence Augustine says (Epis. ad Hieron. xix, 1): ‘Only those books of Scripture which are called canonical have I learned to hold in such honor as to believe their authors have not erred in any way in writing them. But other authors I so read as not to deem everything in their works to be true, merely on account of their having so thought and written, whatever may have been their holiness and learning’” (ST I, q. 1, art. 8, ad 2).

Turning to Augustine, Oberman notes that although Augustine asserts the primacy of Scripture, he did not set this in opposition with the authority of the Catholic Church, “…I would not believe the Gospel, unless the authority of the Catholic Church moved me” [Contra ep. fund., 5], (p. 278). Disagreement soon ensued over the nature of the moving power (commovere of the Church. Some argued that the Church has a practical and instrumental authority (Gregory of Rimini), while others toward the end of the 14th century argued that Augustine’s statement points to a metaphysical priority. That is, in contrast to the idea that the Church’s authority over Scripture had a practical priority in a way similar to the function of Jesus’ miracles, viz., to urge his hearers to believe His words, the “moving authority of the Church becomes in late medieval versions the Church’s approval or creation of Holy Scripture” (p. 278). In distinction from Irenaeus’ and Tertullian’s emphasis on the sufficiency of Scripture, Augustine promotes an authoritative extra-scriptural oral tradition. “While on the one hand the Church ‘moves’ the faithful to discover the authority of Scripture, Scripture on the other hand refers the faithful back to the authority of the Church with regard to a series of issues with which the Apostles did not deal in writing” (p. 279).

Oberman then asks whether the Commonitorium of Vincent of Lerins written in the 5th century has contributed to furthering the two-sources theory. Vincent’s famous thesis is that the Catholic Church must hold to that which has been believed everywhere, always and by everyone—a thesis which seems to permit the idea of an authoritative extra-biblical tradition. Oberman, however, argues that when read in context we find that Vincent accepts the material sufficiency of scripture but rejects its formal sufficiency. “He [Vincent] insists that Holy Scripture needs to be interpreted by the Church since the heretics from Novation to Nestorius all advanced their own exegeses of biblical passages” [Commonitorium II.2], (p. 277). Vincent sees the task of interpretation as preservation and protection against the possibility of perverting what the Apostles have handed down. For Vincent, proper biblical exegesis is not safeguarded “in a secret oral tradition traceable to the Apostles themselves, but in the explicit consensus of the Fathers which provides a safeguard against arbitrary interpretation” (p. 279). Vincent seems to follow St. Thomas in that he does not want the interpretation of the Church to effectively become a second source apart from Holy Scripture. For Vincent, as was the case for Thomas, the “Fathers are in principle magistri probabiles, teachers whose utterances are probable but do not yet constitute proof (seeST I, q. 1, art. 8, ad 2; emphasis added). In fact, the statements of the Fathers come to represent the deposit of faith only when the following five requirements are satisfied: (1) all the Fathers must be of one mind on the issue (non unus aut duo tantum sed omnes pariter; (2) “the consensus has to be exactly the same ( uno eodemque consensu); (3) their opinion should be openly and explicitly formulated (aperte); repeatedly advanced (frequenter); and (5) continuously held, written and taught (perseveranter tenuisse, scripsisse, docuisse)” (p. 280). Oberman concludes the section by noting that though it is often taught (and may very well be the case) that Vincent directs his Commonitorium against Augustine’s strong teaching on predestination, nonetheless, “one does not tax the sources too heavily when one concludes that Vincent here directs his concept of authoritative exegetical tradition primarily against a two-sources theory” (p. 280).

Part I: Heiko Oberman on Scripture and Tradition: A Clash of Two Concepts

By Cynthia R. Nielsen

In chapter twelve of his work, Dawn of the Reformation, Heiko Oberman discusses the issue of the relation of Scripture and tradition. As Oberman observes, the 16th century was marked with “bitter polemics concerning the source and norm of the Church’s knowledge of God’s revelation. Traditionally this is described as the clash of the sola scriptura-principle with the Scripture and tradition-principle” (p. 270). Both Protestants and Catholics were eager to uphold the purity and authority of God’s word, yet each believed that the other’s view was detrimental to maintaining this purity and authority. The Reformers pointed to ways in which ecclesial traditions had come to distort the Gospel, while proponents of the Counter-Reformation decried the Reformers for breaking with tradition and promoting private interpretations. “In both cases reliance on human authority is said to interfere with the rule of obedience to Holy Scripture” (p. 270). Oberman then highlights what in my opinion is often glossed over or completely ignored in this discussion, viz., that the debate before us is not one of Scripture or tradition. Until this misconception is deconstructed, the conversation will continue to stagnate. Rather, what we have in these competing claims is “the clash between two concepts of tradition” (p. 270). In order to more fully explicate these two concepts, Oberman begins by examining the gradual reception of the canon in the early Church.

Upon examining the writings of the early Church Fathers, scholars have come to formulate a position called the “coinherence of Church and Scripture.” That is, for the early Fathers, kerygma, Scripture, and tradition fully coincide (p. 270). Oberman then enumerates the following as characteristics of the coinherence position. First, Scripture and tradition coinhere in the “living, visible Body of Christ, inspired and vivified by the operation of the Holy Spirit” (p. 271). Here one must understand that the coinherence is not merely on the level of source (Scripture) and interpretation (tradition), but that Scripture and tradition flow from the same source, viz., the Word of God. Second, both find their common basis in the work of the Holy Spirit through whom both the fides quae creditur (the content of faith; faith objectively considered) and the fides qua creditur (the faith of the believer; faith subjectively considered) are held together (p. 271). Third, “tradition is not understood as an addition to the kerygma contained in Scripture, but either as the handing down of that same kerygma in living form, or as Revelation itself. This implies for the Fathers the explicit denial of extra-scriptural tradition” (p. 271). Moreover, this proclamation can only be safely handed down within the Church. For Irenaeus, the handing down of the truth is identified with episcopal succession (…qui cum episcopatus successione charisma veritatis certum secundum placitum Patris accepereunt,” Adv. Haereses 4.26; p. 271). However, Irenaeus understands the episcopal witness as a derived witness whose “function is to preserve the integrity and totality of the original Apostolic witness. To this end the canon was formed” (p. 271). Oberman adds that the coinherence of Scripture and Church does not equate to an “amorphous organism.” In other words, the Church is distinguished by her instrumental role of receiving and preserving the Apostolic deposit—a deposit which was understood as containing the original kerygma in toto (pp. 271-272). Lastly, Oberman mentions briefly the relation of oral and written tradition with a view as to how modern Roman Catholic theology understands this relation. Form criticism has of course brought to our attention the fact that the scriptures which the Church received as canonical are “the product of a geographically differentiated and complex interplay of oral and later, written traditions.” Given these findings, Oberman highlights two observations made by modern Roman Catholic theologians: “(1) The canon constitutes a snapshot of a multidimensional living tradition. (2) This document from the early Church has the drawback of being only two-dimensional.” In other words, it represents an ossified part of the living tradition and therefore cannot communicate the fullness of the living Church. Current contemporary Roman Catholic theologians employ the distinction real and verbal in order to make this observation explicit (p. 272).

Next, Oberman focuses on two of the earliest Latin Fathers, who wrote near the end of the second century, Irenaeus and Tertullian. According to Irenaeus, the rule of faith (regula fidei or regula veritatis) “is faithfully preserved by the apostolic Church and has found multiform expression in the canonical books (Adv. Haeres. II.41.4). Here we have an unbroken stream in the movement from preached kerygma to the written Scriptures or what we might call the inscripturated apostolic proclamation. This written proclamation then serves as the foundation of the faith (Adv. Haeres. III.1.1). Though Irenaeus no doubt places great emphasis on episcopal succession, at this stage of church history one should not interpret Irenaeus as suggesting that episcopal succession “constitute[s] a channel of oral tradition which would stand alongside Scripture as a second source of revelation” (p. 273, emphasis added). The task of these successors to the Apostles was to faithfully preserve the kerygmic proclamation until canonization was complete. For Irenaeus, there is complete identity between the rule of faith received by the Apostles and the rule of faith received in his own day in the apostolic writings as handed down by the bishops. In addition, recent scholarly findings have made manifest that the regula fidei as employed by Irenaeus, Tertullian, and Clement of Alexandria is not to be interpreted as rule for faith. “The regula fidei is the rule constituted by faith or truth: the historical facts of God’s action in creation and redemption” (p. 273). Neither is the regula fidei to be understood as an authoritative interpretation of Holy Scripture, nor should it been seen as identical to the Creed. The regula fidei is revelation itself and forms the structure of Holy Scripture, whereas, “the Creed is a confession of the historical reality of the acts of God in creation and redemption” (p. 273).

According to Oberman, the distinction made by contemporary Roman Catholic theologians between real and verbal tradition cannot be maintained here since Irenaeus “identifies truth and reality. The reality which we perceive with our eyes is the same as the reality to which the kerygma pertains” (p. 273).
When we turn to Tertullian (and Cyprian) we find a strong distinction made between tradition as preserved in the canon and human traditions (consuetudines). Tertullian, of course, is often pictured as one with a strong anti-intellectual bent, who made it his mission to condemn philosophy. However, as Oberman points out, Tertullian’s vitriolic remarks against e.g., Aristotle as a heretic, is not a wholesale rejection of reason or even philosophy, but of philosophy used as a second source of revelation. For Tertullian, nothing need be added to the apostolic deposit of faith. Oberman closes this section by stating that, “[f]or this period it is not relevant to insist on the usual distinction between active tradition, the act of handing down, and passive tradition, the content of what is handed down. Tradition corresponds at once with fides quae, the articles of faith and fides qua, the act of faith. Tradition is not only divine in content and origin but also in its providential path through history. This can be stressed to the degree that we are forced to translate tradition with ‘revelation’ and tradere with ‘to reveal’” (p. 275).