Tag Archives: Natural Theology

Emil Brunner’s Simple Faith (2)

Theology, , , ,

Brunner’s first three meditations concern the knowledge of God: Is there a God? Is the Bible the Word of God? and the Mystery of God. Brunner wants to turn the first question on its head. To even ask the question is to signify a fundamental disconnect between ‘ourselves’ and our heart, conscience, and awareness of the world, all of which testify to the reality of God. “Your heart knows something of God already; and it is that very knowledge which gives your question existence and power” (Brunner, Our Faith, 14). Further, “not only the heart within, but the world without also testifies of God” (14-15).

To ask the question, then, “Is there a God?” is to fail to be morally serious. For when one is morally serious one knows that good is not evil, that right and wrong are two different things, that one should seek the right and eschew the wrong. There is a divine order to which one must bow whether one likes to do so or not. Moral seriousness is respect for the voice of conscience. If there is no God, conscience is but a complex of residual habits and means nothing. If there is no God then it is absurd to trouble oneself about right—or wrong (15-16).

Like Calvin, Brunner presupposes an innate knowledge of God, supported by an external knowledge of God grounded in the created order. “That God exists is testified by reason, conscience, and nature with its wonders. But who God is—God Himself must tell us in His Revelation” (16, original emphasis). This ‘natural’ knowledge of God (shared by all humanity) is really an awareness of something more rather than personal knowing. One does not know God in a personal or relational sense but ‘knows’ of God or has an intuition of his reality. The reason for this is that God is not ‘a thing’ in this world, one more thing amongst other things, an object of knowledge which might be discovered and categorised and thereby mastered by the knower (13). God, rather, intends that we might know him and be mastered by him.

It is for this reason that God has given us the Bible: “God has made known the secret of His will through the Prophets and Apostles in the Holy Scriptures. He permitted them to say who He is” (18). Brunner holds an instrumental view of the Scripture. God speaks to humanity through the Bible. It is the Word of God because and as it points to Jesus Christ, and because in it we hear the voice of God. The Bible speaks in many ways of its one central theme—of the Good Shepherd God who comes to us. “The voices of the Prophets are the single voice of God, calling. Jesus Christ is God Himself coming. In Him, ‘the word became flesh.’ … He is the Word of God” (19, original emphasis). Brunner uses the analogy of a gramophone record and the record label “His Master’s Voice” to illustrate how the Scripture functions as the Word of God. (I remember as a child my father’s record collection included albums from this label!)

If you buy a gramophone record you are told that you will hear the Master Caruso. Is that true? Of course! But really his voice? Certainly! And yet—there are some noises made by the machine which are not the master’s voice, but the scratching of the steel needle upon the hard disk. But do not become impatient with the hard disk! For only by means of the record can you hear ‘the master’s voice.’ So, too, is it with the Bible. It makes the real Master’s voice audible—really His voice, His words, what He wants to say. But there are incidental noises accompanying, just because God speaks His word through the voice of man. … But through them God speaks His word. … The importance of the Bible is that God speaks to us through it (19-20).

What the Bible reveals is Jesus Christ—the mystery of who God is. All that humans can know in their own capacity is the world. God, however, is not the world but rather the mystery within which the world has its being (21). The mystery of God is threefold: his transcendent majesty over the world, his searing holiness which wills our obedience, and his unspeakable love and condescension. In his transcendent majesty, God is Lord. He is the Almighty whose holy will confronts us as an absolute to which we must either submit ourselves or against which we will shatter ourselves.

But the mastery of God is even greater. The will of this holy God—what He absolutely desires, is love. His feeling towards us is of infinite love. He wants to give Himself to us, to draw and bind us to Him. Fellowship is the one thing He wants absolutely. God created the world in order to share Himself. … God desires one thing absolutely: that we should know the greatness and seriousness of His will-to-love, and permit ourselves to be led by it. Our heart is like a fortress which God wants to capture (22-23).

Brunner’s portrayal of the divine mystery posits the sheer givenness of God’s transcendence: God simply is and is the almighty and holy God. This is the overarching reality within which our being and the being of the world has its being. The central category Brunner uses to discuss God’s relation to the world is the divine will. Brunner speaks first of the holiness and demand of God and only then of the tender lovingkindness of God. In each case it is a matter of the divine willing, and in each case the divine will is absolute. Yet although Brunner speaks of the divine holiness first, it seems that the divine loving has a deeper and perhaps more fundamental bearing: God created the world in order to share himself with it, and wills above all things that we should know his ‘will-to-love.’

Our heart is like a fortress which God wants to capture. He wants to capture it with His love. If, overcome by His love, we open the gate, it is well with our souls. If, however, we obstinately close our hearts to His love, His absolute will—then woe to us! If we refuse to surrender to the love of God, we must feel the absoluteness of His will as wrath (23-24).

A Psalm for Sunday – Psalm 8

Scripture, , ,

Psalm 8Read Psalm 8

Derek Kidner suggests that “this psalm is an unsurpassed example of what a hymn should be, celebrating as it does the glory and grace of God, rehearsing who he is and what he has done, and relating us and our world to him; all with a masterly economy of words and in a spirit of mingled joy and awe” (65-66). From the highest heaven to the lowest earth God’s majestic glory is declared, made known and acknowledged.

The theme of the psalm concerns the greatness and goodness of God and the small but significant human. In light of the vastness, glory and intricacy of creation the psalmist is compelled to ask, “What is man that you take thought of him?” The focus of the psalm on the great and special privilege given to humanity occurs within the overarching focus on the sovereignty and majesty of God which frames the psalm in verses one and nine.

It is perhaps significant here, that this psalm does not teach a kind of natural theology or revelation (see Craigie). That is, humanity cannot ascertain its own true nature, nor its creational task, by looking at the world of nature. We may be awed by the splendor of nature, but it does not communicate a divine word to us; for that, we need the revelation of God’s name which is proclaimed in all the earth, and the revelation given to us in Scripture, for the psalm itself includes a meditation on the word of Scripture given in Genesis 1.

The comparison between God and humanity may be extended. God’s glory and majesty is inherent, revealed in the vast and mighty work of creation. The creation, which is so great that we are dwarfed in comparison, is but the work of God’s fingers. The greatness of God far surpasses the greatness of creation! Nevertheless, the glory of the heavens evokes praise, so that even children are aware of God’s awesome greatness – to the shame of those who would repudiate God’s existence, rule and justice.

Humanity’s glory, in contrast, is derivative, bestowed by God in the act of creation as the crown of all God’s creatures, and in the constant remembrance by which God calls the human creature to mind. This is a dignity given by grace, a dignity given to every person, and constantly renewed as each person is the object of God’s particular care and concern. Amongst all the creatures, only humanity is crowned with glory and majesty.

Verses six through eight indicate the creational task given to humanity: to “rule” over the works of God’s hands. This task echoes the creational ordinance of Genesis 1:26, 28. Created in the divine image, humanity is to rule over the other living beings. It is crucial that this text be understood within the cultural milieu in which it was written. Biblical scholars suggest that the creation stories picture the world and all its creatures as a temple for the praise of God’s glory. Humanity in God’s image are a priesthood within this temple charged with the task serving and caring for this temple, representing God to the creatures, and offering acceptable worship to the creator.

This vision of priestly stewardship has, of course, been drastically altered by the reality of the Fall, so that even creation has been implicated and altered in humanity’s turning away from God. Indeed, as the author of the letter to the Hebrews plainly notes, “But now we do not yet see all things subjected to him. But we see Jesus…” (Hebrews 2:8-9).

The New Testament clearly and unambiguously applies this psalm to Jesus Christ, both here in Hebrews and elsewhere. Humanity in general has failed in its creational task and forfeited its distinguished role. But Jesus Christ has come as the truly human person, and in his incarnation, suffering and death, was made for a time “lower than the angels,” but now is crowned with glory and honour. The One who tasted death for all has now been so exalted that all things are under his feet (Ephesians 1:22; 1 Corinthians 15:25-27). Jesus himself cited this psalm on the day of his triumphant entry into Jerusalem when the children cried out, “Hosanna to the Son of David!” (Matthew 21:15-17).

Jesus Christ is the “real humanity,” the true “Son of Man” in both the earthly and eschatological sense. In our place and on our behalf he has taken and borne human weakness and fallenness in order to redeem us and restore us to a position in which we share his glory, honour and dominion. Authentic humanity is fully and truly realised in Christ, and we find our identity and destiny in him. By the Spirit believers are being renewed and transformed into his image, restored to truly human life and existence (see 1 Corinthians 15:49; 2 Corinthians 3:17-18; Ephesians 4:20-24; Colossians 3:8-11).

True human being and identity is a christological and eschatological reality.

A Latin Poem & Natural Theology

Literature, Theology, , ,

the-name-of-the-roseI came across this in Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose (15):

“My good Adso,” my master said, “during our whole journey I have been teaching you to recognize the evidence through which the world speaks to us like a great book. Alanus de Insulis said that
      omnis mundi creatura
      quasi liber et pictura
      nobis est in speculum
and he was thinking of the endless array of symbols with which God, through His creatures speaks to us of the eternal life. But the universe is even more talkative than Alanus thought, and it speaks not only of the ultimate things (which it does always in an obscure fashion) but also of closer things, and then it speaks quite clearly.”

This little Latin poem is half of the first stanza of a longer medieval work. The whole stanza is:
      Omnis mundi creatura
      quasi liber et pictura
      nobis est in speculum:
      nostrae vitae, nostrae mortis,
      nostri status, nostrae sortis
      fidele signaculum,

which translates roughly as:

     All the world’s creatures
     As a book and a picture
     Are to us as a mirror;
     in it our life, our death,
     our present condition and our passing
     are faithfully signified.

The poem derives from twelfth century Christian theologian and neo-Platonist philosopher Alain de Lille, and makes the simple point that observation of the natural world can inform understanding of our own life. But it does so only up to a point. This poem is like the book of Ecclesiastes: it can see the reality and inevitability of death, but cannot see resurrection. This is the limitation of all forms of natural theology: it requires the revelation given in Jesus and attested in Scripture if it is to speak the truth of our existence. Umberto Eco rightly suggests that God indeed speaks to us through created things of the eternal life, but only obscurely.

See Psalm 19.