In Defense of Conciliar Christology

OXFORD STUDIES IN ANALYTIC THEOLOGY Series Editors Michael C. Rea Oliver D. Crisp OXFORD STUDIES IN ANALYTIC THEOLOG...

Author: Timothy Pauw

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OXFORD STUDIES IN ANALYTIC THEOLOGY Series Editors Michael C. Rea

Oliver D. Crisp

OXFORD STUDIES IN ANALYTIC THEOLOGY Analytic Theology utilizes the tools and methods of contemporary analytic philosophy for the purposes of constructive Christian theology, paying attention to the Christian tradition and development of doctrine. This innovative series of studies showcases high quality, cutting edge research in this area, in monographs and symposia. titles in the series include: Metaphysics and the Tri-Personal God William Hasker The Theological Project of Modernism Faith and the Conditions of Mineness Kevin W. Hector The End of the Timeless God R. T. Mullins Ritualized Faith Essays on the Philosophy of Liturgy Terence Cuneo

In Defense of Conciliar Christology A Philosophical Essay

TIMOTHY PAWL

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Great Clarendon Street, Oxford, OX2 6DP, United Kingdom Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in certain other countries © Timothy Pawl 2016 The moral rights of the author have been asserted First Edition published in 2016 Impression: 1 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by licence, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reprographics rights organization. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above Nihil Obstat Reverend George Welzbacher Censor Librorum September 23, 2015

Imprimatur The Most Reverend Bernard Hebda Apostolic Administrator Archdiocese of Saint Paul and Minneapolis October 5, 2015

The Nihil Obstat and Imprimatur are ofﬁcial declarations that a book is free of doctrinal error. No implication is contained therein that those who have granted the Nihil Obstat and Imprimatur agree with the consent, opinions, or statements expressed. Nor do they assume any legal responsibility associated with publication. You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Data available Library of Congress Control Number: 2015946694 ISBN 978–0–19–876592–9 Printed in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, St Ives plc Links to third party websites are provided by Oxford in good faith and for information only. Oxford disclaims any responsibility for the materials contained in any third party website referenced in this work.

For my children: Henry Douglas, Mary Sandra, Beatrice Katherine, Edith Efﬁe, and Agnes Josephine—the best (non-theological) gifts I have ever received

Acknowledgments I’d like to thank the many people who helped me in the writing of this book. I thank William Abraham, Jeffrey Brower, Oliver Crisp, Richard Cross, Thomas Flint, Michael Gorman, Jonathan Jacobs, Joseph Jedwab, Samuel Newlands, Timothy O’Connor, Alexander Pruss, Joshua Rasmussen, Michael Rea, Eleonore Stump, Alan Torrance, Jessica Wilson, and William Wood for helpful discussion; Heath Curtis, Fr Brian Daley, S.J., Mark DelCogliano, Fr Brian Dunkle, S.J., Paul Gavrilyuk, Robert Hartman, Stephen Hipp, Peter Martens, Brandon Peterson, and Christian Washburn for help with the history and conciliar statements; and Philip Balgeman, Matthews Grant, Andrew Jaeger, Ryan Mullins, Kathryn Pogin, Bradley Rettler, Michael Rota, Noël Saenz, Jeffrey Snapper, Mark Spencer, and Jordan Wessling for helpful written comments on these chapters. A special thanks is due to Faith Glavey Pawl, who read the entire manuscript and provided many helpful and insightful comments, as she is wont to do. I thank the audiences at and participants in the Metaphysics of Aquinas and its Modern Interpreters conference at Fordham University (March 2011), Kevin Timpe’s Writing Retreat and Workshop on Divine Freedom in Tallahassee Florida (March 2012), The Notre Dame Center for Philosophy of Religion weekly reading group in 2012–13 for three helpful meetings, the First Annual LA Theology Conference (January 2013), the 8th Annual Philosophy of Religion Conference at Baylor University (March 2013), the Unum, Verum, Bonum conference in Lisbon, Portugal (April 2013), the Wake Forest Hylemorphism Workshop (June 2013), my colloquium talk at Cardinal Stefan Wyszyński University in Warsaw, Poland (June 2014), and the brothers in my weeklong seminar on Analytic Christology at the Dominican House of Studies in Krakow, Poland (June 2014). I also thank the faculty participants in a Cluster Group on Analytic Christology, funded by the Notre Dame Center for Philosophy of Religion, that I ran (along with Mark McInroy) during the Spring semester of 2014. Work on this book was generously supported by the Notre Dame Center for Philosophy of Religion and the John Templeton Foundation, both in the form of Analytic Theology Summer Stipends, and in the form of a yearlong Analytic Theology Research Fellowship. I thank the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy for permission to use revised sections of my article on Divine Immutability (Pawl 2009) in Chapter 8, Section II.a. I thank the Journal for Analytic Theology for permission to reprint, with revision, my article “A Solution to the Fundamental Philosophical Problem of Christology” as the majority of Chapter 7. I thank Cambridge University Press for permission to use the epigram of this book. I thank Scientia et Fides for permission to use portions of my article, “Conciliar Christology and the Problem of Incompatible Predications” in Part II of this book. And I thank Bloomsbury Publishing, PLC, for permission to quote selections from Norman P Tanner’s (1990) excellent

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two-volume work, Decrees of the Ecumenical Councils 2 Volume Set, published by Georgetown University Press, US edition. Finally, I thank Fr George Welzbacher for reading the entire manuscript and giving careful comments in his ofﬁcial role as Chief Censor for the Archdiocese of St. Paul and Minneapolis.

Table of Contents List of Figures and Tables Introduction

xv 1

P A R T I D O C T R I N E, D EF I N I T I O NS , AN D M E TA P H Y S I C S 1. The Content of Conciliar Christology

11

2. Deﬁnitions and Necessary Conditions

29

3. The Theory Enﬂeshed

58

P A R T I I T H E F U ND A M E N T A L P R O B L E M 4. The Fundamental Problem

75

5. Denying the Predications

97

6. Denying “In the Same Way”

117

7. Denying the Incompatibility

152

P A R T I I I A D D I T I O NA L M ET A PH Y S I C A L O B J E C T I O N S 8. Immutability, Impassibility, and Atemporality

179

9. Number Troubles

210

Conclusion

232

Bibliography Index

235 247

Extended Table of Contents List of Figures and Tables

xv 1

Introduction P A RT I D OC TR I N E , D E F I N I T I O N S , A N D M E T A P H Y S I C S 1. The Content of Conciliar Christology I. Introduction II. Concerning the Person of Christ III. Concerning the Divine Nature IV. Concerning the Human Nature of Christ V. Concerning the Manner of Union between the Natures VI. Concerning the Predications True of Christ VII. Conclusion

11 11 14 16 18 20 23 27

2. Deﬁnitions and Necessary Conditions I. Introduction II. Terminology

29 29 30 30 34 34 39

II.a. Hypostasis and Person II.b. Nature II.b.1. Two Views of Natures: Abstract and Concrete II.b.2. Nature Talk in the Conciliar Texts II.b.3. The Historic and Contemporary Understandings of the Human Nature of Christ II.c. The Terms used to Refer to the Person and Natures

III. The Necessary Conditions IV. The Bare Bones Model IV.a. IV.b. IV.c. IV.d. IV.e. IV.f.

The Concrete Natures of Material Substances The Ontological Conditions for Contingent Predications The Divine Nature The Relation between Truth and Reality The Hypostatic Union Fulﬁllment of the Necessary Conditions

V. Conclusion 3. The Theory Enﬂeshed I. Introduction II. Hylomorphism III. Truthmaking III.a. Truthmakers for Essential Predications III.b. Truthmakers for Accidental Predications

IV. Applied to the Incarnation

42 46 47 50 50 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 58 58 59 60 61 62

Extended Table of Contents IV.a. The Model and Candidate Predicates IV.b. The Model and the Communicatio Idiomatum

V. A Summary of the Model VI. Objections to the Model Objection 1: The Objection from Property Borrowing Objection 2: The Objection from the Relation between Persons and Natures Objection 3: The Objection from the Lack of a Truthmaker for Supposit Truths Objection 4: The Objection from Essential Predications and the Possibility of Christ’s Human Nature not Being Assumed

VII. Conclusion

xi 62 63 64 64 64 65 68 70 71

P A R T I I T H E F U ND A M E N T A L P R O B L E M 4. The Fundamental Problem I. Introduction II. The Argument in Detail II.a. The Argument in the Literature II.b. Deﬁnitions of the Terms II.c. The Argument in Deductive Form

III. Denying No Complementary Predications III.a. A Plausible Inference III.b. The Standard Deﬁnition of Complementarity III.c. No Complementary Predications or No Contrary Predications

IV. Some Unsatisfactory Responses IV.a. Deny the Law of Non-Contradiction IV.b. Deny that Candidate Predicates Have Complements IV.c. Appeal to Mystery

V. The Shape of Things to Come VI. Conclusion 5. Denying the Predications I. Introduction II. The Response from Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ II.a. An Example of the Response II.b. The Response is not Generalizable

III. The Response from Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ III.a. An Example of the Response III.b. The Response is not Generalizable

IV. The Responses from Denying the Human and Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ in Conjunction are Insufﬁcient V. The Response of Denying the Predicates “At the Same Time” V.a. An Example of the Response V.b. Kenoticism is Inconsistent with Conciliar Christology V.b.1. Immutability and Kenoticism

75 75 75 75 77 79 80 80 81 82 84 84 85 88 91 95 97 97 98 98 99 100 100 101 101 104 104 106 107

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Extended Table of Contents V.b.2. Kenoticism and Conciliar Predication V.b.3. A Final Formulation of the Argument V.c. Kenoticism and the Exaltation

VI. Conclusion 6. Denying “In the Same Way” I. Introduction II. The “Qua” Move III. Modifying the Assertion (A) III.a. The (A) Method Presented III.b. The (A) Method Fails III.c. The (A) Understanding of “Qua” Without the (A) Response to the Problem

IV. Modifying the Subject (S) IV.a. The (S) Method Presented IV.b. The (S) Method Fails

V. Modifying the Predicate (P) V.a. Non-Substitutional Predicate Modifying Objection 1: Ad Hoc Worries Objection 2: The Objection from Uncommon Predicates Objection 3: The Objection from Cheap Predicates Objection 4: Predications Qua-Modiﬁable to Neither or Both Natures V.b. Substitutional Predicate Modifying Objection 1: Ad Hoc Worries Objection 2: The Objection from Uncommon Predicates Objection 3: The Objection from Cheap Predicates Objection 4: Predications Qua-Modiﬁable to Neither or Both Natures Objection 5: The Objection from Redundant Relata V.c. Summary of the Discussion of the (P) Strategy

VI. Modifying the Copula (C) VI.a. Non-Substitutional Copula Modifying Objection 1: Ad Hoc Worries Objection 2: The Objection from Uncommon Characterizing Objection 3: The Objection from Cheap Copulation Objection 4: Predications Qua-Modiﬁable to Neither or Both Natures Objection 5: The Objection from Copula Modifying Being Difﬁcult to Fathom Objection 6: The Objection from Revising Standard Logic VI.b. Substitutional Copula Modifying Objection 1: Ad Hoc Worries Objection 2: The Objection from Uncommon Characterizing Objection 3: The Objection from Cheap Copulation Objection 4: Characterizations Qua-Modiﬁable to Neither or Both Natures Objection 5: The Objection from Redundant Relata

110 113 114 115 117 117 118 121 122 122 123 124 124 125 129 131 132 133 135 137 137 138 139 139 140 140 141 143 145 145 146 146 147 147 147 148 148 148 149 149 149

Extended Table of Contents Objection 6: The Objection from Copula Modifying Being Difﬁcult to Fathom Objection 7: The Objection from Revising Logic

VII. Conclusion 7. Denying the Incompatibility I. Introduction II. The Truth Conditions for Candidate Predicates II.a. II.b. II.c. II.d.

Initial Truth Conditions The Cheerleader Analogy Applying the Analogy to Christ Revised Truth Conditions

III. The Logical Relations among the Revised Truth Conditions III.a. The Predicates and Their Truth Conditions III.b. Question Sets III.c. The Logical Relations Presented

IV. Explaining Our Intuitions

IV.a. If “x is non-F” is True, then “it is not the case that x is F” is True IV.b. Intuitive Incompatibility

V. Objections to the Reply from Denying the Incompatibility Objection 1: Objection 2: Objection 3: Objection 4: Objection 5: Objection 6: Objection 7: Objection 8:

Out of the Blue No Natures Difference Where There is None Qua-Strategy Restated Predications of Natures Other Candidate Predicates Ontological Bloat to Predicates Evacuating Classical Theism

VI. Conclusion

xiii 150 150 150 152 152 154 154 155 157 159 159 160 160 165 167 167 168 168 169 171 171 171 172 173 174 174 175

P A R T I I I A D D I T I O NA L M ET A PH Y S I C A L O B J E C T I O N S 8. Immutability, Impassibility, and Atemporality I. Introduction II. Motivation for the Doctrines II.a. The Motivation for Divine Immutability II.b. The Motivation for Divine Impassibility II.c. The Motivation for Divine Atemporality

III. The Truth Conditions for the Predicates IV. Objections to the Incarnation of an Immutable, Impassible, Atemporal God IV.a. IV.b. IV.c. IV.d. IV.e.

Richard Cross on the Modal Attributes Jonathan Hill on the Modal Attributes Richard Holland on the Modal Attributes Thomas Senor on the Modal Attributes A Few General Points about These Objections

V. How the Metaphysics Might Work VI. Conclusion

179 179 180 181 184 187 190 191 192 194 198 200 203 204 209

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Extended Table of Contents

9. Number Troubles I. Introduction II. Unfriendly Conditionals II.a. The Deﬁnition of Unfriendly Conditionals and Why They are Unfriendly II.b. Unfriendly Conditionals and the (Alleged) Unicity of Christ’s Nature, Will, or Intellect II.c. The Deﬁnitions of Person, Nature, Will, and Intellect

III. Assertions of Number Troubles IV. Arguments for Number Troubles IV.a. Garrett DeWeese on Number Troubles IV.b. Colin Gunton on Number Troubles IV.c. Andrew Loke on Number Troubles

V. The Threat of Nestorianism VI. Conclusion

210 210 210 210 212 213 215 217 218 221 222 227 231

Conclusion

232

Bibliography Index

235 247

List of Figures 2.1 A representation of the concrete nature of a material substance 2.2 Multiple concrete human natures 2.3 The same matter with different souls at different times 2.4 A representation of a soul swap 2.5 A representation of property having 2.6 A representation of the divine nature 2.7 A representation of the hypostatic union 3.1 A representation of property having 3.2 A truthmaker for an essential predication 3.3 A representation of the divine nature 3.4 A representation of the hypostatic union including accidents 7.1 A representation of the hypostatic union 7.2 A square of opposition for Candidate Predicates

51 51 52 52 53 54 55 59 60 61 62 158 166

List of Tables 4.1 The Candidate Predicate Table 5.1 The Candidate Predicate Table

91 97

Introduction For there is a point at which the student of Christology becomes a student of Logic; a point at which he has to pick up the logician’s tools; a point at which he has to make use of the concepts of incompatibility and entailment; a point at which he has to answer a charge of self-contradiction.1 C. J. F. Williams (1968, 514–15)

This book offers an extended analysis of the philosophical coherence and consistency of what I call Conciliar Christology—the Christology put forward by the ﬁrst seven ecumenical councils of Christendom: the First Council of Nicaea, 325; the First Council of Constantinople, 381; the Council of Ephesus, 431; the Council of Chalcedon, 451; the Second Council of Constantinople, 553; the Third Council of Constantinople, 680–1; and the Second Council of Nicaea, 787. Conciliar Christology is the conjunction of all the claims made at these councils concerning the doctrine of the incarnation. One might see the brunt of the Christological work done by these councils as completed at the Council of Chalcedon, with the remaining three councils adding needful clariﬁcation on certain issues. I have some sympathy for that view, but I will not, as a consequence, view the pronouncements of those later councils as secondary or less important components of Conciliar Christology. At the outset of this project, one might wonder why Conciliar Christology includes the ﬁrst seven councils, rather than, say, the ﬁrst four, or six, or twelve, for that matter. I think that there are good reasons for the conjunction to include claims from the ﬁrst seven councils, and not a larger or smaller set of councils. First, why not include more in the conjunction? Many Christians, most explicitly Catholic and Orthodox Christians, take these seven ecumenical councils to have a special normative status in establishing the boundaries of what we can say in our Christology. The Orthodox and Catholics disagree, however, on the later councils, which the Catholics claim to be Ecumenical (e.g. the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215). Thus, the largest conjunction of ecumenical, christological claims that traditionally receives special status in both the eastern and western traditions is the conjunction that comes from these seven councils. Adding claims

1 C. J. F. Williams (1968). “A Programme for Christology,” Religious Studies 3 (2): 513–24, at pp. 514–15. © Cambridge University Press 1968. Reprinted with permission.

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In Defense of Conciliar Christology

from later councils into Conciliar Christology would weaken its catholicity (in the lower-case “c” sense of the term). Why not, on the other hand, include fewer councils; for instance, only the councils through to Chalcedon? Only including a subset of the ﬁrst seven councils would, in effect, only be examining the logical coherence of a subset of what has come to be understood as the traditional view of the incarnation. Showing that part of the traditional view survives the threat of inconsistency would be useful, but less useful than showing that the whole of the traditional view survives the existing threats. To cut the claims of the three post-Chalcedonian councils from Conciliar Christology would be to examine a mere part of orthodoxy (in the lower-case “o” sense of the term). Given these reasons, I see a natural and reasonable dividing line after the seventh council, the Second Council of Nicaea. While it is true that the Second Council of Nicaea does not add any new Christological claims to the conjunction—it instead focuses on defending the veneration of sacred images and relics—I still include its claims in Conciliar Christology. This is because it is part of the traditional orthodoxy of both the East and West, and also because it reiterates in summary form the teaching of the previous six councils. The title of this book labels it a defense. This book is a defense in a moderate sense of the term. It is not the sort of defense that is a good offense; it does not contain a proof of Conciliar Christology. It makes no attempt at showing Conciliar Christology to be true. Nor does it make an attempt to show it possibly true. Rather, it defeats (or, more modestly, attempts to defeat) arguments against Conciliar Christology. It defends in the same sense as a shield or a goalie; its function is to impede the success of the opponent. Performing this task well requires some historical and biblical knowledge. There are many goals out there, to continue the soccer analogy, and I need to make sure I’m standing in front of the right one. But my task does not require doing any new historical or scriptural work, and I make no pretense to be doing any such work herein. The central thesis of this book is that no extant philosophical objection to Conciliar Christology is successful in showing that conjunction to be incoherent or internally inconsistent. To defend my thesis, I suppose, for argument’s sake, the truth of Conciliar Christology, and then discuss each philosophical objection, showing how it does not entail a contradiction or incoherency. In philosophical jargon, the presumption of the truth of Conciliar Christology is made as the beginning of a potential reductio ad absurdum, and my project is to show that one cannot derive the absurdity. At the outset of such a project, I should make clear who it is that I take my audience to be, what I am assuming, and what I am hoping to show. Concerning my audience, I am writing for both philosophers and theologians. Writing for an interdisciplinary audience increases the number of potential pitfalls into which an author might stumble. Things one group will take for granted or ﬁnd obvious need to be explained to the other. Things the other side ﬁnds needful might well be given little consideration or skipped entirely. Since I am a philosopher by training, I expect that philosophers reading this book will take me to be belaboring the obvious (e.g. “I see how this follows; you don’t need

Introduction

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to present the full inference here”), and that theologians will take me to be ignoring important interlocutors (e.g. “Where the hell is Barth!?”).2 If I were allowed a moment of preemptive self-defense, I would say that belaboring the obvious does not invalidate an inference or falsify a premise, and I would invite the philosopher to skim sections that seem to say in more words what could be said in fewer. I would also say that the theologian’s objection—or, at least, the one I note here; surely there will be countless others I don’t know enough even to see coming—encapsulates two distinct worries. The ﬁrst is that there are intellectual debate partners that theologians simply must consider when they are writing a work of Christology. Not considering them smacks of academic ineptitude. In response, I can only note that I have discussed this project with many theologians in the hopes of not being inept. In the end, though, if there is a cache of philosophical objections to Conciliar Christology hiding from me, but in plain sight of the theologically trained reader, I have only myself to blame for this omission. The second worry encapsulated in the theologian’s objection ﬂows from a deeper source. It is often claimed—not entirely unfairly—that analytic philosophy of religion suffers from a lack of historical grounding. Without trying too hard, one can easily discover articles wherein a view condemned as outside the fold in days of yore is propounded as a novel answer to a theological problem, with apparent ignorance on the author’s part that the view has such an ignoble history, or any history at all. Theologians, on the other hand, quite often start their studies from an intellectual heritage, perched upon the shoulders of a particular thinker, or school, or confessional statement. From the heights of such a historically aware vantage, the increased interest on the part of analytic philosophers in philosophy of religion might appear similar to an onslaught of unruly, arrogant, slightly socially awkward lumberjacks (logic-)chopping away at any available branch, whether or not anyone, including the ax-wielder, is standing on it. I will respond to this second worry on my own behalf, but also on behalf of the profession of which I am a part. For myself, my training and work has been primarily in Thomistic philosophy. I take myself to be apprenticed to that great saint’s intellect, though the reader will ﬁnd places herein at which my account differs from his. For analytic philosophers of religion on the whole, I can say with conﬁdence that we are becoming more historically grounded, in large part due to the patient helping hand of theologians and the interdisciplinary growth of the ﬁeld of Analytic Theology. I realize these words of preemptive self-defense might be found ultimately unsatisfactory, but I hope that they allay the worries enough for the reader not to consign these pages to the ﬂames just yet. Concerning my assumptions, I will be assuming the truth of all the Christological claims found in the documents of the above-listed ecumenical councils. This includes their creeds, canons, expositions of faith, and anathemas, as well as any documents accepted and endorsed in the previously listed sources. To reiterate: I include any Christological claim from any of these sources in the conjunction I am calling Conciliar Christology. In the language of John McIntyre (1966, chap. 1), I take them all as the given. My project is signiﬁcantly different from 2

By my count, that is the only instance of the word “Barth” in this book. Well, now there are two.

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In Defense of Conciliar Christology

other Christological works of philosophical theology. For example, consider the work of Richard Sturch (1991, 69, 77). Sturch’s project is to argue for the truth of the Christology of Chalcedon. As such, it is, as he says, improper for him to assume its truth in his arguments as his given. My project being what it is, though, it is legitimate to assume the truth of those claims, for my project begins with the words, “suppose, for argument’s sake, that those councils got things right.” His project, on the other hand, concludes with the words, “thus, those councils got things right.” All the Christological claims from the ﬁrst seven ecumenical councils might well be more than some want to accept from these sources. To those readers, I point out that if a conjunction of claims is shown to survive the threat of inconsistency, any subset of claims from that conjunction will survive the same threat. For instance, if the conjunction P&Q&R entails no contradiction, then the conjunction P&R does not entail a contradiction either. (There is no guarantee, however, that if one takes that subset and adds additional members to it not found in Conciliar Christology, that the resultant conjunction will itself be consistent.) I also promise those readers to take pains in the ﬁrst chapter, where I spell out the teachings of Conciliar Christology, to point out the source of the quotations I employ as evidence. That way, the reader can note whether or not the conciliar claim is from a source she takes herself to have good reason to accept. Since I am assuming the truth of the conciliar claims, I will not provide evidence for the contents of Conciliar Christology by way of appeal to scripture or the church fathers. Though some theologians have found this shocking (or incredible, or scandalous, or odious), there is good reason for my not attempting to support the claims of Conciliar Christology. For one thing, the only training in Biblical exegesis I have comes from an undergraduate degree in theology, and my formal training in patristic thought comes from a few Philosophy graduate courses on thinkers such as Augustine. The response I would expect a reader to have were I to attempt novel, nonderivative biblical or patristic argumentation for the contents of Conciliar Christology is somewhere between “Bless his heart; look how hard he’s trying,” as said of a tottering child learning to walk, and the Principal’s response to Billy Madison, after Billy ﬂoundered to answer the ﬁnal question of the Academic Decathlon (Davis 1995): What you have just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I have ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response were you even close to anything that could be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.

It is better, I think, to leave such work to those who have been trained in the arts, and to take up the work to which my training suits me best—the work of philosophical analysis and argumentation. A second reason I will not be appealing to scripture and the fathers to justify the truth of Conciliar Christology is that I don’t need to prove the truth of Conciliar Christology to do the work I do in this book. One need not prove the truth of a conjunction prior to testing it for incoherence and inconsistency. In that respect, my project here is analogous to the project one would take on were one to assume the core theological claims of Norse mythology and assess whether the

Introduction

5

philosophical arguments for its incoherence and inconsistency (if there are any) ﬁnd purchase. One need not ﬁrst show that the Norse theological claims are grounded in their holy books (perhaps the Eddas), or that the wise sages of the Norse schools afﬁrmed the claims, before considering an argument for their inconsistency. There is a place and time for such biblical and patristic justiﬁcation, but it is not here and now. I am reminded of what St Gregory of Nazianzus says (Daley 2006, 149) in his Farewell Address, [T]o solve or rearrange the problems of interpretation in Scripture is not the proper work of the present time, but calls for greater, more perfect concentration than is possible in the thrust of this discussion now at hand.

For similar reasons, I will not be considering objections to Conciliar Christology from biblical exegesis, or from purely historical grounds. Rather, the objections I will consider are philosophical in nature.3 A careful look at the logical and philosophical difﬁculties of the doctrine of the incarnation will not be objectionable to at least some theologians. Nicholas Lash (1979, 42), for instance, writes: The ‘incarnation debate’ badly needs, as one of its components, a fresh look at the logical problems to which classical formulations of christology give rise.

Thomas Morris’s excellent book The Logic of God Incarnate was a response to this call. My goal in this work is to provide a fresh look at the classical formulations. There are many places in this book where the argument leads naturally to questions concerning other doctrines of the faith, for example the Trinity. One can hardly avoid such a thing in a book on Christology. However, whenever possible, I attempt to leave such questions alone. This is not a book on the Trinity. And so while there are some aspects of Conciliar Christology that will lead to questions about how to understand the Trinity, I attempt to leave such questions to one side. For example, in Chapter 8 I discuss objections to Conciliar Christology from its claims that the divine nature and divine persons are immutable. One might have a whole host of worries about how to understand the Godhead in light of divine immutability. How might the Father or Holy Spirit personally interact with contingent creation if they are immutable? How might something immutable create contingently? How could something immutable be omniscient, since omniscience requires knowledge of all truths, and some truths—for example, truths about what time it is now—change their truth-value over time? Such questions are good, legitimate worries about the doctrine of divine immutability, but they are not my concern in this book.4 My goal is to assess whether or not the immutability of the person of the Word and his divine nature is such as to contradict other Christological claims taught in the councils. Were I required to answer every objection to divine immutability, especially those aimed primarily at

3 What exactly do I mean by “philosophical objections?” I have no analysis to offer of what a philosophical objection is, but I can provide examples to aid the wondering reader in understanding how I use the term. The summary of things to come later in this introduction will include ample such examples. 4 To see some discussion of and additional bibliographical information on these, and other worries about the doctrine of divine immutability, see Pawl (2009).

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In Defense of Conciliar Christology

the Godhead proper, and not at the Word as incarnate, I would have to write yet another book. This book is divided into three parts. Part I begins by presenting the teachings of Conciliar Christology (Chapter 1). It then moves on to present deﬁnitions of the key terms employed in the councils (Chapter 2, Section II) and the minimal metaphysical framework required to make sense of the conciliar claims (Chapter 2, Sections III and IV). Part I concludes with Chapter 3, where I present a more robust (broadly Thomistic) metaphysics that I will assume for discussing the objections to Conciliar Christology (Chapter 3, Sections II—IV) and objections to that robust interpretation (Chapter 3, Section VI). Part II contains four chapters and focuses on a single problem, the most difﬁcult problem for Conciliar Christology, which, following Richard Cross, I will call the Fundamental Problem. This is the problem of incompatible predications being predicated of the one person, Jesus Christ (aka, the Word; the Second Person of the Trinity; the Logos; the Son). Some examples of apparently incompatible predicates both asserted of Christ in the conciliar documents are “passible” and “impassible,” “mutable,” and “immutable.” I ﬁrst present the Fundamental Problem in detail (Chapter 4, Section II), then consider multiple unsatisfactory replies to it (Chapter 4, Sections III and IV). Next, in Chapter 5, I focus on three more answers to the Fundamental Problem that share the following feature: for any pair of allegedly incompatible predicates predicated of Christ, they deny that one or the other is aptly predicated of him, either at some time (Section V), or at all (Sections II—IV). I ﬁnd that these three responses, either singulatim or in concert, fail. After that, in Chapter 6, I consider four responses to the Fundamental Problem that share the following feature: they each employ a “qua” clause in an attempt to answer the Problem. I ﬁnd that the ﬁrst two fail (Section III—IV), and spend some additional time considering multiple variants of the latter two responses, as well as objections and replies to those responses (Sections V—VI). Finally, in Chapter 7, I consider a ﬁnal answer to the Fundamental Problem. This answer responds to the Problem by explaining a way in which the predicates could be understood such that they are not incompatible (Sections II—III). I then present an account of why we have such strong intuitions that the predicates are incompatible (Section IV), and conclude with objections and replies to the response (Section V). Part III is composed of two chapters and focuses on metaphysical objections to the content of Conciliar Christology. Chapter 8 focuses on a subset of the problematic predicates applied to Christ—what one might call the “modal” predicates. Modal predicates are predicates that, if apt of something at all, must be apt of it. Three examples of modal predicates are impassibility, immutability, and atemporality. I focus my discussion on the conciliar and historical precedent for these claims (Section II), then, in light of the work of Chapter 7, I provide truth conditions for the modal predicates (Section III). After that, I reply to arguments from four contemporary authors—Richard Cross, Jonathan Hill, Richard Holland, and Thomas Senor—who attempt to show that an immutable, or impassible, or atemporal being cannot become incarnate (Section IV). I ﬁnd that all the arguments considered fail. Finally, I discuss how the metaphysics might work in the incarnation of an immutable, impassible, atemporal being (Section V).

Introduction

7

Chapter 9 discusses what I call number troubles: objections to Conciliar Christology due to an allegedly inconsistent number of things in Christ. For instance, some people argue that if Christ is (only) one person, then he has (only) one will, or that if Christ is (only) one person, then Christ has (only) one nature. Conciliar Christology afﬁrms the antecedent of each of these conditionals, yet denies the consequent. And so, were either conditional true, Conciliar Christology would be false (Section II). I consider arguments for these two conditionals, arguing that they do not succeed in proving the conditionals in question (Sections III—V). I ﬁnd that all the arguments considered fail. I know of no other analytic, philosophical arguments that target the teachings of Conciliar Christology without bringing in some additional theological assumptions (I discuss ﬁve such assumptions in the Conclusion of this book). I conclude that, so far as I know, there are no extant philosophical objections to Conciliar Christology that show it to be inconsistent or incoherent. If Conciliar Christology is inconsistent or incoherent for philosophical reasons (rather than, say, exegetical reasons), it remains to be shown.

Part I Doctrine, Deﬁnitions, and Metaphysics

1 The Content of Conciliar Christology I . I N T RO D U C T I O N Consider the earliest seven ecumenical councils—the Councils held as binding by both Catholic and Orthodox Christians: the First Council of Nicaea, 325; the First Council of Constantinople, 381; the Council of Ephesus, 431; the Council of Chalcedon, 451; The Second Council of Constantinople, 553; the Third Council of Constantinople, 680–1; the Second Council of Nicaea, 787.1 Very many Orthodox Christians would consider these, not just the earliest, but the only seven ecumenical councils. Catholics accept not only these seven councils as authoritative, but also the following fourteen councils, from The Fourth Council of Constantinople in 869–70 through the Second Vatican Council in 1962–65. Very many Protestant Christians consider some subset of these councils as binding, in some sense. For example, Louis Berkhof (1965, 316) writes of the doctrine that Christ has two natures, “It is of the utmost importance to maintain this doctrine, as it was formulated by the Council of Chalcedon and is contained in our Confessional Standards.” Richard Holland (2012, 77) writes of “the necessity of Chalcedonian and Nicene orthodoxy to the Christian faith.”2 Other Protestants view these councils, not as binding or authoritative, but as actually having been correct in their interpretation of scripture, and so as teaching truths that should be believed and safeguarded.3 Herbert Relton (1917, xxix) says of the councils: We venture to think that the value of the ancient Christology, as this reaches us in the creeds and dogmatic utterances of the Councils, cannot be too highly estimated. In it we ﬁnd preserved the ﬁnest results attained by the most acute intellects of the past, and we beneﬁt from the warnings which they give and which they learned as the fruit of

1 Unless otherwise noted, all quotations from the ecumenical councils are taken from Norman Tanner’s (1990) Decrees of the ecumenical councils. All inline quotations that do not list an author or year are also taken from the Tanner volumes. 2 For more discussion on who accepts what, see Bellitto (2002, 8); Kelly (2009, 64); Tanner (2001, 3–4, 7, 13). 3 For arguments concerning the authority of the councils, and whether there is good, principled reason to accept some but not all of them, see Washburn (2010); a similar discussion of non-infallible church teachings can be found in Lamont (2008). For a discussion of the authority of ecumenical councils from a reformed protestant prospective, see the work of Oliver Crisp, especially (Crisp 2007a, 161–3; Crisp 2009, chap. 1). Some Eastern Churches (not to be confused with Eastern Orthodox Churches) accept only a subset of the seven councils. The Assyrian Church of the East, for instance, only accepts the ﬁrst two.

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much painful controversy and conﬂict with heretical opinion. Such a deposit is not lightly to be estimated nor hastily to be set aside as outworn dogma.

This deference to the councils is a common view, even among those who deny that the councils are supernaturally safeguarded from error. Call the conjunction of the teachings from these councils concerning the incarnation Conciliar Christology. The conjuncts of this conjunction come from deﬁnitions and expositions of faith, creeds, canons, and anathemas of the councils. If such conciliar statements include other documents—for example, as Chalcedon’s Deﬁnition of the Faith accepts Cyril’s second letter to Nestorius and his letter to John of Antioch, as well as Leo’s Tome to Flavian (Tanner 1990, 85)—then I will include the Christological teachings from those documents as conjuncts of Conciliar Christology, too. Determining whether texts are included in the councils is challenging in some cases. There are some documents that are included on any reasonable evaluation. These include the creeds, the deﬁnitions of faith, the anathemas, and the canons. Some of these documents explicitly endorse others. For instance, as mentioned above, Cyril’s second letter and Leo’s Tome are accepted by documents that are central to the ecumenical councils on any reasonable standard—for instance, the Expositions of faith from both the Council of Chalcedon (85) and the Third Council of Constantinople (126–7). These texts call Cyril’s letters “well-suited to refuting” Nestorius and for providing “understanding of the saving creed,” and Leo’s Tome as “in agreement with Peter’s confession” and “a pillar of right belief.” Indeed, Paul Gondreau (2009, 216) claims that Leo’s Tome was “solemnly endorsed at Chalcedon” and Herbert Relton (1917, 44) says similarly. Bronwen Neil (2009, 27) writes, in her book, Leo the Great, that the Tome “became the touchstone of Chalcedonian Orthodoxy.” As far as I can tell, the scholarly consensus is that the Tome, Cyril’s second letter to Nestorius, John of Antioch’s Formula of union, and Cyril’s response to John are all ofﬁcial documents of the councils.4 Cyril’s third letter to Nestorius, and the twelve anathemas attached to it, is a more difﬁcult case. Thomas Graumann (2011, 36) writes, The most notorious problem with the use of documents on this occasion is, of course, the reading (if indeed it took place) of Cyril’s famous Third Letter to Nestorius, concluding with the Twelve Chapters or Anathemas. Much ink has been spent on the question whether it was endorsed ofﬁcially by the council as its Christological teaching.

Some scholars view them as ofﬁcial documents of the councils. Tanner (1990, 37–8), for instance, includes them among the documents of the council. Edward Hardy (1954, 349) writes of Cyril’s third letter that: The letter was read and acted on at Ephesus; at the Council of Chalcedon it was recognized, along with the Tome of Leo, as an orthodox statement.

4 For some discussion of these points, see Bellitto (2002, 23, 27); Denzinger (2002, 50, footnote 1); Kelly (2009, 44); Landon (1909a, 1:140, 200); Price (2009, 75); Russell (2000, 35–9); and Weinandy (1985, 58).

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E. H. Landon (1909a, 1:201) represents 2nd Constantinople as accepting the anathemas of Cyril’s third letter as “the true faith.” Others argue that they were not ofﬁcially accepted at Ephesus or at Chalcedon, but that they were accepted at later councils, in particular, Second Constantinople.5 Richard Price (2009, 85) writes that “by the middle of the sixth century . . . this Third Letter was presumed to be one of the ‘conciliar’ letters connected to Ephesus I and acclaimed by Chalcedon.” Price might well have the important Christological work of Emperor Justinian (527–65) in mind, who writes, in his “A Letter on the Three Chapters”: [W]hoever says that the Twelve Chapters of St Cyril are contrary to the true faith condemns not only St Cyril, Celestine of blessed memory, and the ﬁrst Council of Ephesus, but also the Council of Chalcedon which looked to Cyril as its father and teacher, as well as St Leo, Pope of Rome, who, when he wrote to the Synod of Chalcedon, said of St Cyril’s Twelve Chapters: “Let the deﬁnition [of faith] that Cyril of holy memory sent to Nestorius stand ﬁrm.” (Wesche 1997, 144)

I will follow the consensus view about Cyril’s third letter to Nestorius and its accompanying anathemas, accepting it as part of Conciliar Christology, though I will be sure to note when I cite it, so that those who hold the contrary view can react accordingly. I will not argue for the truth of Conciliar Christology in this book. Instead, I will assume its truth in the service of answering philosophical objections that it faces. I take the strongest philosophical objections to be that: 1. Conciliar Christology entails that one and the same thing—the God-man, Jesus Christ—is simultaneously and aptly characterized by two incompatible predicates, but the objection continues, such incompatible predication is impossible; 2. Were the Second Person of the Holy Trinity immutable, as Conciliar Christology requires, then that Person could not become anything, and so could not become man. For, becoming is a type of change, and the Second Person, if Conciliar Christology is correct, is unchanging. But he did become man, according to Conciliar Christology. And so Conciliar Christology is inconsistent. Similar arguments can be given from the attributes of impassibility and atemporality; 3. If there is a single Christ, then there is a single nature or will in Christ. Call that conditional claim The Conditional. If The Conditional is true, then Conciliar Christology is false, since it afﬁrms the antecedent of The Conditional to be true, but denies the truth of its consequent.

Before discussing the problems that Conciliar Christology faces, however, one must get clear on what Conciliar Christology teaches. The Church fathers at the Third Council of Constantinople, in their Exposition of the faith, summarize most of the important claims of Conciliar Christology in the following passage: Following the ﬁve holy and universal synods and the holy and accepted fathers, and deﬁning in unison, it [the Third Council of Constantinople] professes our lord Jesus Christ our true God, one of the holy Trinity, which is of one same being and is the 5 See, for instance, Price (2009, 76) and Price and Whitby (2011, 11–22). The best discussion of this point of which I am aware is Richard Price’s (2011) “The Second Council of Constantinople (553) and the Malleable Past,” where he argues that the anathemas of the Third Letter were “elevated to canonical status” at Second Constantinople (2011, 120).

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source of life, to be perfect in divinity and perfect in humanity, the same truly God and truly man, of a rational soul and a body; consubstantial with the Father as regards his divinity,6 and the same consubstantial with us as regards his humanity; like us in all respects except for sin; begotten before the ages from the Father as regards his divinity, and in the last days the same for us and for our salvation from the holy Spirit and the virgin Mary, who is properly and truly called mother of God, as regards his humanity; one and the same Christ, Son, Lord, only-begotten, acknowledged in two natures which undergo no confusion, no change, no separation, no division; at no point was the difference between the natures taken away through the union, but rather the property of both natures is preserved and comes together into a single subsistent being. (127–8)

In this chapter I will elaborate on these claims, drawing texts from other councils to buttress or clarify the teachings. The main teachings I wish to present are as follows. According to Conciliar Christology, (i) there was (and is) one person, Jesus Christ, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, who, after the incarnation, has two complete and distinct natures. One of these natures is (ii) the one and only divine nature. The other nature is (iii) a fully human nature. These natures were (iv) combined in a unique mode of union, called the “hypostatic union.” In virtue of this union, (v) predications are true of Jesus Christ according to each nature. I discuss each of these points in turn below.7

I I . C O N C ER N I N G T H E P E R S O N O F C H R I S T There was (and is) one person, Jesus Christ, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, who had (and has) two complete and distinct natures, and who existed prior (in some sense) to the incarnation. Jesus Christ is one person in two natures, for, as Cyril says, “two different natures come together to form a unity, and from both arose one Christ, one Son” (41). I say here that Christ is one person in two natures, though I realize that the “in” in “in two natures” sounds peculiar. I am following the convention of the Tanner translation in doing so (see also, Tanner 6 The phrase “as regards” in both instances each of “as regards his divinity” and “as regards his humanity” is a translation of the Greek “ŒÆ”, which in the Latin translation ordered by Pope Leo II is rendered “secundum.” I will have much to say about the potential ways in which to understand such modiﬁcations of predicates later in Chapter 6. 7 For good and helpful general discussions of the history of the councils, see Bellitto (2002); Davis (1990); Jedin (1960); Kelly (2009); Landon (1909a); Landon (1909b); Need (2008); Price (2012); Stevenson and Kidd (1973); Tanner (2001); Wilhelm (1908). There are many deeper investigations of each council. I have found Price and Whitby’s Chalcedon in Context (2011) and The Acts of the Council of Chalcedon (2007) to be useful for understanding the Council of Chalcedon. For recent discussions of the conciliar content with an eye toward philosophical engagement, see Deweese (2007) and Holland (2012, chap. 2). For help in understanding the history and common interpretation of particular doctrines, I have been aided by Alfeyev (2012); Arendzen (1941); Astley, Brown, and Loades (2009); Baker (2013); Boyle (1995); Clarkson et al. (1994); Denzinger (2002); Dupuis (2001); Graham (1957); Jurgens (1979); Kereszty (2002); Lamont (2008); Leith (1982); O’Collins (1995); O’Collins (2002); Ott (1960); Pohle (1913); Schaff (1889); Schmaus (1971); Sobrino (1992); Stevenson and Kidd (1973); Willis and Rouët de Journel (2002); Wolfson (1970).

The Content of Conciliar Christology

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2001, 31). Elsewhere the councils say that Christ “has” two natures, or that he is one person “of ” two natures. Like Emperor Justinian (Wesche 1997, 32), I take all three of these wordings to be meant to express the same point. See Stephen Need (2008, 102) on this topic as well. This person is, as the fathers at Third Constantinople say in their Exposition of faith, “true God, one of the holy Trinity” (127). The fathers at the Second Council of Constantinople proclaim the following anathema: “If anyone does not confess his belief that our lord Jesus Christ, who was cruciﬁed in his human ﬂesh, is truly God and the Lord of glory and one of the members of the holy Trinity: let him be anathema” (118). The person of the Word was, as John of Antioch says in his Formula of Union from the Council of Ephesus, “begotten before all ages from the Father in his godhead” (69) such that, in the incarnation, Leo says in his Tome, “whilst remaining pre-existent, he begins to exist in time”(79). This one person, the Word of God, had two nativities, as the fathers at Second Constantinople taught: Anathema 2: “If anyone will not confess that the Word of God has two nativities, that which is before all ages from the Father, outside time and without a body, and secondly that nativity of these latter days when the Word of God came down from the heavens and was made ﬂesh of holy and glorious Mary, mother of God and evervirgin, and was born from her: let him be anathema.” (114)

According to Conciliar Christology, the very same person who preexists the incarnation and is generated outside of time from the Father before all ages is the self-same person who was made ﬂesh and born a man from the holy and glorious ever-virgin. The teaching that Christ is a single person is protected negatively in the conciliar statements as well, by way of anathema, at Second Constantinople: Anathema 4: “if anyone does not accept the teaching of the holy fathers that the union occurred of the Word of God with human ﬂesh which is possessed by a rational and intellectual soul, and that this union is by synthesis or by person, and that therefore there is only one person, namely the lord Jesus Christ, one member of the Holy Trinity: let him be anathema.” (115 emphasis added)

According to Conciliar Christology, then, there is one person in the incarnation, not two. And this one person is in two natures, though he preexisted his nativity from Mary. One should be hesitant to interpret this “pre-existence” as a temporal pre-existence, since Christ, in his divine nature, does not exist in time, according to a common and plausible interpretation of Conciliar Christology. For textual support, see the above anathema from Second Constantinople about Christ’s nativity from the Father being outside time (achronos) and also the discussion of divine atemporality in Chapter 8, Section II.c. These teachings of Conciliar Christology are still attested to by many Christian groups. Since the Catholics and the Orthodox take themselves as bound to these conciliar statements, these teachings are still attested to in those communities. One can perhaps see this most clearly by looking at some well-respected dogmatic theologians from different confessional backgrounds. For instance, the Catholic dogmatists Ludwig Ott (1960, 146) and Joseph Pohle (1913, 89–116) afﬁrm these claims about Christ. Martin Chemnitz (1971, 37), an early and important

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Lutheran theologian (1522–86), afﬁrms these claims as part of traditional, orthodox Christology, as do the Reformed systematic theologians Herman Bavinck (2006, 298–302) in his Reformed Dogmatics and Louis Berkhof (1965, 315–22) in his Systematic Theology.

I I I . C O NC E R N I N G T H E D I V I N E N A T U R E Christ’s divine nature is the very same nature as the nature of the Father and the Holy Spirit. Christ, according to his divine nature, is immutable, impassible, and neither lessened nor weakened by the incarnation. Concerning the immutability of Christ, the collected fathers at the Council of Nicaea, the ﬁrst Ecumenical Council, only issued a single anathema.8 This anathema they enshrined in their creed, the Nicene Creed. It reads as follows: And those who say “there once was when he was not”, and “before he was begotten he was not”, and that he came to be from things that were not, or from another hypostasis or substance, afﬁrming that the Son of God is subject to change or alteration—these the catholic and apostolic church anathematises. (5)9

Here the fathers had Arianism—the claim that Christ is not God—in their sights.10 They intended to rule it out by denying multiple entailments of Arianism, or at least multiple claims they took to be entailed by Arianism. They sum up all of these entailments in the last clause before the dash—“afﬁrming that the Son of God is subject to change or alteration.” One might question here: if it is the person who is unchanging, as this quotation has it, then that very person cannot die then rise up, since to die then rise up is to change; but then how can it be true to say that he “suffered and rose up on the third day,” as the Nicene fathers said two sentences prior to this anathema in their creed? And so the Nicene fathers have contradicted themselves in short order. If so, the reader might wonder why this book does not end on this page. I will provide two responses to this question. First, one can claim that the fathers mean to say that the Son cannot change as regards his divine nature. This qualiﬁer is added in other places where the church claims the Son to be unchangeable, as the next block quotation shows. As for how to understand the distinction between saying, “the Son of God is not subject to change” and “the Son of God is not subject to change as regards his divinity,” I will have much to say in Chapter 6. A second response is to understand the predicates “immutable” and “mutable” in such a way that the following conditional “P is immutable, therefore P cannot 8 Or four, depending on how you count it, whether it is one anathema with four parts, or four distinct anathemas stated in a single sentence. 9 Paul Helm (1994, 336) uses this passage as evidence that God is atemporal. But, surprisingly, he leaves out the most incriminating evidence. He quotes this anathema but replaces the clause, “afﬁrming that the Son of God is subject to change or alteration” with an ellipsis. Richard Holland (2012, 116), in discussing Helm’s argument, follows Helm in replacing that important clause with an ellipsis, though the two authors cite different translations and works. 10 For more on Arianism, see William Barry (1907); Richard Hanson (2006); and Rowan Williams (2002).

The Content of Conciliar Christology

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change in any way” is false. Were that premise false, then the ﬁrst premise of the objection under consideration (“if it is the person who is . . .”) would be false. I offer one such way of understanding the predicates, a way I take to be consonant with everything said in the conciliar texts, in Chapter 7, and a fuller discussion of the arguments against immutability from the incarnation in Chapter 8. The conciliar documents from Ephesus, the third Ecumenical Council of the church, teach the immutability of Christ according to his divine nature. This is clear from the letters of Cyril, which, as I have previously noted, were accepted by later councils (e.g. Chalcedon’s Exposition of faith (85) and Third Constantinople’s Exposition of faith (127)), and so count as parts of Conciliar Christology, as I have stipulated the deﬁnition of that term. As Cyril says in his letter to John of Antioch, included as part of the Council of Ephesus, God the Word, who came down from above and from heaven, “emptied himself, taking the form of a slave”, and was called son of man, though all the while he remained what he was, that is God (for he is unchangeable and immutable by nature). (72, the parenthetical is in the original, but the emphasis added)

And also, as Cyril says in his Third Letter to Nestorius, the person of Christ is immutable. We do not say that his ﬂesh was turned into the nature of the godhead or that the unspeakable Word of God was changed into the nature of the ﬂesh. For he (the Word) is unalterable and absolutely unchangeable and remains always the same as the scriptures say. For although visible as a child and in swaddling cloths, even while he was in the bosom of the virgin that bore him, as God he ﬁlled the whole of creation and was fellow ruler with him who begot him. (51, emphasis added)

One important point to note about both of these previous texts is that they explicitly consider whether, in the incarnation, the Word was unchangeable, and both answer that he was. Furthermore, the ﬁrst quotes the scriptural passage (Philippians 2:5–8) concerning Christ’s self-emptying and notes that, even in the light of this passage, Christ remained unchanging. The second says that Christ, even as a child, was omnipresent and ruler of all creation. These points will be important later, in Chapter 5 (Section V), where I discuss Kenotic Christology. Concerning the impassibility of the divine nature, Cyril says in his Third Letter to Nestorius, We also confess that the only begotten Son born of God the Father, although according to his own nature he was not subject to suffering, suffered in the ﬂesh for us according to the scriptures, and was in his cruciﬁed body, and without himself suffering made his own the sufferings of his own ﬂesh . . . (53)

And in his Tome to Flavian, accepted at the Council of Chalcedon, Pope Leo says that in the incarnation, “invulnerable nature was united to a nature that could suffer” (78). The collected fathers at the Council of Ephesus believed so ﬁrmly in the immutability and impassibility of the divine nature of Christ that Cyril could say: I think that those are quite mad who suppose that “a shadow of change” is conceivable in connexion with the divine nature of the Word. For he remains what he is always and never changes, nor could he ever change or be susceptible of it. Furthermore, we

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all confess that the Word of God is impassible, though in his all-wise economy of the mystery he is seen to attribute to himself the sufferings undergone by his own ﬂesh. (72–3)

In the Deﬁnition of Faith from Chalcedon, the fathers are emphatic about the impassibility of the divine nature: But there are those who are trying to ruin the proclamation of the truth, and through their private heresies they have spawned novel formulas [some of which do so by] fantastically supposing that in the confusion [of the natures of Christ] the divine nature of the Only-begotten is passible. (84)

It is because of passages like these that Fr Gilles Emery (2009, 30) reads the Tome as unequivocally teaching the immutability and impassibility of God. Finally, in becoming incarnate, this divine nature, and the Son who bears it, was not lessened, as Leo claims in his Tome to Flavian: He took the form of a servant without the deﬁlement of sin, thereby enhancing the human and not diminishing the divine. For that self-emptying whereby the Invisible rendered himself visible, and the Creator and Lord of all things chose to join the ranks of mortals, spelled no failure of power: it was an act of merciful favour. So the one who retained the form of God when he made humanity, was made man in the form of a servant. Each nature kept its proper character without loss; and just as the form of God does not take away the form of a servant, so the form of a servant does not detract from the form of God. (78)

The Son of God was diminished in no way in the incarnation. In particular, he lost no power. As we saw previously, not only did he lose no power, but he continued ﬁlling and ruling all of creation, even as a baby. As a ﬁnal piece of evidence, the gathered fathers at Chalcedon claimed in union that the great council “expels from the assembly of the priests those who dare to say that the divinity of the Only-begotten is passible” (85–6). This shows just how serious the fathers were in their afﬁrmation of the impassibility of Christ in his divine nature, and how important they thought it was that others afﬁrmed it as well. Thus, there is reason to believe that, according to the councils, the person of Christ is impassible and immutable in his divine nature, and that the person of Christ is not lessened or weakened by the incarnation. See Chapter 8, Section II for more confessional support for these doctrines.

IV. CONCERNING THE HUMAN NATURE OF CHRIST Christ, as truly man, is “like us in all respects except for sin” (127), according to the Exposition of faith at the Third Council of Constantinople (which is in turn alluding to Hebrews 4:15). The statements of Conciliar Christology present this likeness in the following ways. Christ had (and has) a complete human nature, in virtue of which it is apt to call him “true man.” Having a human nature involved, according to Conciliar Christology, having a human body ensouled by a rational soul, where the soul included a human will and principle of action. I discuss these points in this section.

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The claim that Christ had both a body and a soul is well attested in the conciliar statements. As Cyril writes to Nestorius, “the Word in an unspeakable, inconceivable manner united to himself hypostatically ﬂesh enlivened by a rational soul, and so became man” (41, emphasis added). Of Mary, the same Cyril says she is the mother of God (theotokos) “because there was born from her his holy body rationally ensouled, with which the Word was hypostatically united and is said to have been begotten in the ﬂesh” (44). And in his Third Letter to Nestorius, Cyril rhetorically asks: If it is necessary to believe that being God by nature he became ﬂesh, that is man ensouled with a rational soul, whatever reason should anyone have for being ashamed at the expressions uttered by him should they happen to be suitable to him as man? (55–6)

In the Formula of union from Ephesus, we ﬁnd the claim that: “We confess, then, our lord Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God, perfect God and perfect man of a rational soul and a body” (69). This proclamation is echoed at the Council of Chalcedon in the Deﬁnition of Faith, which says, So, following the saintly fathers, we all with one voice teach the confession of one and the same Son, our Lord Jesus Christ: the same perfect in divinity and perfect in humanity, the same truly God and truly man, of a rational soul and a body. (86)

Finally, this teaching, that Christ was a true man, of both a body and a soul, was protected negatively as well, in an anathema from the Second Council of Constantinople, already quoted above: Anathema 4: “ﬁnally, if anyone does not accept the teaching of the holy fathers that the union occurred of the Word of God with human ﬂesh which is possessed by a rational and intellectual soul, and that this union is by synthesis or by person, and that therefore there is only one person, namely the lord Jesus Christ, one member of the Holy Trinity: let him be anathema.” (115, emphasis added)

Christ’s possession of both a human soul and a human body is taught in accepted letters, in a Formula of Union, in multiple Deﬁnitions of Faith, and, negatively, by anathematizing its denial. In addition, Christ had a created human will and principle of action. As the fathers at Third Constantinople say: [W]e proclaim equally two natural volitions or wills in him and two natural principles of action which undergo no division, no change, no partition, no confusion, in accordance with the teaching of the holy fathers. And the two natural wills not in opposition, as the impious heretics said, far from it, but his human will following, and not resisting or struggling, rather in fact subject to his divine and all powerful will. For the will of the ﬂesh had to be moved, and yet to be subjected to the divine will, according to the most wise Athanasius. For just as his ﬂesh is said to be and is ﬂesh of the Word of God, so too the natural will of his ﬂesh is said to and does belong to the Word of God . . . For in the same way that his all holy and blameless animate ﬂesh was not destroyed in being made divine but remained in its own limit and category, so his human will as well was not destroyed by being made divine, but rather was preserved . . . (128)

And again, the same fathers say: [the devil] has not been idle in raising through them [the devil’s “instruments”] obstacles of error against the full body of the church, sowing with novel speech

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among the orthodox people the heresy of a single will and a single principle of action in the two natures of the one member of the holy Trinity, Christ our true God . . . leading from there to the blasphemous conclusion that his rationally animate ﬂesh is without a will and a principle of action. (125–6)

Later, at the Second council of Nicaea, the fathers claim in their deﬁnition: [W]e declare that there are two wills and principles of action, in accordance with what is proper to each of the natures of Christ. (135)

Conciliar Christology, then, entails the truth of dyothelitism—the claim that Christ had two wills, one proper to his created human nature, the other proper to his divine nature. Note that, as Oliver Crisp (2007b, 59–60) argues, it is inconsistent with the texts of Conciliar Christology to claim, as some have, that Christ has but one will, though that one will can be viewed as both divine and human. Such individuals claim that the divine will fulﬁlls the conditions for being a divine will essentially, and it picks up whatever else it needs in order to fulﬁll the conditions for being a human will in the incarnation. Thus, on this view, the one divine will counts as both, though it is one in number. Richard Swinburne (1994, 198–9) for instance, holds this view. This view is inconsistent with the claims of Third Constantinople. For, were there one will counted as both a divine and a human will, there would be little sense to be given to the claims that there are two wills, and that one leads the other, and that each is proper to one of the natures of Christ. According to Conciliar Christology, a human nature is (or is constituted by) a human body ensouled by a rational soul, where the soul includes a human will and principle of action. In the following chapters, when I speak of Christ’s human nature, I will be referring to that particular body-soul composite with which Conciliar Christology claims the Word became hypostatically united. I follow Flint (2011, 68) in naming the body-soul composite “CHN” for Christ’s Human Nature. In the following chapter, Section II.b., I will discuss how one should understand natures philosophically in light of the Conciliar texts.

V . C ON C E R NI N G T H E M A N N ER O F U NI ON BE TWE E N TH E N AT UR ES Consider the teachings concerning the manner of union between the natures in the one Christ. Conciliar Christology teaches that the two natures are united hypostatically, that is, in a person, that this union is ineffable, that, while it is ineffable, there is an analogy one can use to approach understanding it, and that the union leaves the proper character of the natures intact. Concerning the hypostatic union, I have already quoted passages above that state that the union was hypostatic. The councils use the term “hypostasis” to refer to persons.11 For just one example, the bishops gathered at First Constantinople say they believe “in three most perfect hypostases, or three perfect persons” (28). 11

In Chapter 2, Section II.a., I deﬁne the terms “hypostasis” and “person.”

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The divine and human natures of Christ are united to one another in a way that is beyond human understanding. As Cyril says: For we do not say that the nature of the Word was changed and became ﬂesh, nor that he was turned into a whole man made of body and soul. Rather do we claim that the Word in an unspeakable, inconceivable manner united to himself hypostatically ﬂesh enlivened by a rational soul, and so became man. (41, emphasis added)

Elsewhere, Cyril again characterized the union as “ineffable”: For there is one lord Jesus Christ, even though we do not ignore the difference of natures, out of which we say that the ineffable union was effected. (72, emphasis added)

And again, the ineffability of the hypostatic union is safeguarded by an anathema at Second Constantinople: Anathema 7. “If anyone, when speaking about the two natures, does not confess a belief in our one lord Jesus Christ, understood in both his divinity and his humanity, so as by this to signify a difference of natures of which an ineffable union has been made, without confusion, in which neither the nature of the Word was changed into the nature of human ﬂesh, nor was the nature of human ﬂesh changed into that of the Word (each remained what it was by nature, even after the union, as this had been made in respect of subsistence) . . . let him be anathema.” (117, emphasis added)

Thus, that the union between the natures is ineffable was taught at Ephesus by Cyril and formally protected from denial in the seventh anathema of Second Constantinople. If Conciliar Christology is true, then the mode of union between the two natures is ineffable.12 Even though the union is ineffable, there are still some things that we can say about it, and that Conciliar Christology does say of it. The union is hypostatic, after all. So it isn’t completely indescribable. (Even calling it “ineffable” is a way of describing it.) And so one common objection to ineffability is avoided. The common objection states that for something to be ineffable, it must not be understandable or describable in any way. But witness that we can describe ineffable things—at the very least, we describe them and understand them as ineffable. And so nothing can be ineffable. The response to this objection is to note that the understanding of ineffability required for this objection is too strong. We can concede that were ineffability to have the necessary condition that the objector claims it has, then nothing could be ineffable. But we can deny that ineffability requires such a necessary condition. So long as ineffability does not require that strong necessary condition, the ﬁrst premise of the common objection (“for something to be ineffable . . .”) can be denied. Conciliar Christology does not provide an analysis of what, precisely, the hypostatic union is—and, in fact, given its teaching that the union is ineffable,

12 See Michael Gorman (2000a 183), who argues that the personal union is not reducible to any other type of union. Here I offer no analysis of what ineffability is. I have no such analysis to offer (though see Jonathan Jacobs (2015) for one account). But I do offer a necessary condition: if something is ineffable, then a complete analysis of it is beyond human ability. (Or, at least, human ability in our current state; perhaps in the beatiﬁc vision it will no longer be ineffable.)

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logically could not provide such an analysis without contradiction. It does, however, provide a helpful metaphor.13 Cyril’s Third Letter to Nestorius says of the Word that “he made his indwelling in such a way as we may say that the soul of man does in his own body” (52). We ﬁnd something similar in the Quicumque, more commonly known as the Athanasian Creed, which says: “For just as the rational soul and body are one man, so God and man are one Christ” (Denzinger 2002, para. 40). Both Cyril and the Athanasian Creed make the same analogy: as the soul is to the body that it indwells, so the Word is to the human nature that it assumes.14 The ﬁnal point I wish to make about Conciliar Christology’s claims concerning the hypostatic union is, as the passages quoted above suggest, that it leaves intact the proper characters of both natures. Pope Leo claims: So the one who retained the form of God when he made humanity, was made man in the form of a servant. Each nature kept its proper character without loss; and just as the form of God does not take away the form of a servant, so the form of a servant does not detract from the form of God. (78)

The Deﬁnition of Faith by the gathered fathers at Chalcedon, and repeated verbatim at Third Constantinople (127–8) states: [A]t no point was the difference between the natures taken away through the union, but rather the property of both natures is preserved and comes together into a single person and a single subsistent being. (86)

And the Third Council of Constantinople states that the difference of the natures being made known in the same one subsistence in that each nature wills and performs the things that are proper to it in a communication with the other; then in accord with this reasoning we hold that two natural wills and principles of action meet in correspondence for the salvation of the human race. (129–30)

The important point here is that each nature stays how it is without loss. Each nature, when joined in the person of Christ, is not in any way diminished from how it would be, were it not to be so joined. The difference between the natures is not removed, but they retain their proper character. And, importantly, they keep their functions, but perform them in communication with each other.

13 To see discussions of what type of relation it could be that holds between the two natures, see (Daley 2002; Flint 2011; Kereszty 2002: 350–60; Marmodoro and Hill 2011, 12–15; O’Collins 2002, chap. 8; Senor 2007; Van Driel 2006; Weinandy 2000, 182–90). 14 Fr Joseph Pohle, an important systematic theologian writing in the manual tradition, says (Pohle 1913, 120) “those who have spun out these analogies into full-ﬂedged arguments have notoriously all ended in heresy.” Likewise, Francis Ferrier (1962, 77) writes of “the futility of seeking to account for the mystery [of the hypostatic union] by pure reason, and of the way all such efforts can only end tragically in heresy.” This, surely, gives my Catholic heart pause. Let me say, then, that if I say anything heretical or contrary to the authoritative teaching of Holy Mother Church, whose loyal son I am and seek to remain, then I will host a bonﬁre at which I and any of you who feel inclined can come and burn our copies of this book.

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V I . C O N C ER N I N G T H E P R E D I C A T I O N S T R U E O F C H R I S T Conciliar Christology claims three things with respect to the predications true of Christ. It claims that some predications are true of Christ according to one nature or the other, but not both. It claims that some predications true of Christ cannot be said truly of both natures of Christ. And it claims that any truth that either nature would make true of a person who bears only that nature is also made true of the person, Christ, the Second Person of the Trinity, who bears both.15 First, some predications are true of Christ according to one nature, but not the other. As Cyril says in his Second Letter to Nestorius: [W]e say that he suffered and rose again, not that the Word of God suffered blows or piercings with nails or any other wounds in his own nature (for the divine, being without body, is incapable of suffering); but because the body which became his own suffered these things, he is said to have suffered them for us . . . The Word is said to have suffered death for us, not as if he himself had experienced death as far as his own nature was concerned (it would be sheer lunacy to say or to think that), but because, as I have just said, his ﬂesh tasted death. (42)

So it is truthfully said that “The Word suffered” and “The Word suffered death.” These things are true because the human nature suffered. And they are not true— indeed, they cannot be true, given the parenthetical claims in the text—because the divine nature suffered. One might wonder: what is the principle employed here to get from “the human nature suffered” to “the Word suffered?” It is surely not a general principle such as the following: for any nature of a person, any predicate apt of that nature is apt of the person. For the predicate “is a nature” is apt of the nature, but not of the person. I provide the answer to this question in the next chapter, Section IV.d., under the name “Typical Dependence.” Which predicates transfer from some nature of Christ to the person of Christ? Whichever ones fulﬁll Typical Dependence. Later in the Formula of Union from the Council of Ephesus, John of Antioch says: As to the evangelical and apostolic expressions about the Lord, we know that theologians treat some in common as of one person and distinguish others as of two natures, and interpret the god-beﬁtting ones in connexion with [secundum] the godhead of Christ and the lowly ones with his humanity. (70)

Some predications are true of the person, others are true of one or the other of the natures. The predicate, “(is) a nature,” for instance, is apt of both natures, but not apt of the person. Moreover, the “in connexion” clause is a translation of the Latin secundum that often gets translated as “qua” in the contemporary discussion. So the text is saying that some expressions are true of him qua one nature, some are true of him qua the other, and some are treated in common, whereby I take the fathers to be saying that the expressions are true qua both natures. Examples of such predicates are “exists,” “acts,” and “wills.”

15

The point of this sentence might be put without reliance on truthmaker language as well.

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Another example of predications being true according to one nature and unable to be true because of another, this time from Cyril’s response to John of Antioch, is the following: But when we say that our lord Jesus Christ came from heaven and above, we do not apply such expressions as “from above” and “from heaven” to his holy ﬂesh. Rather do we follow the divine Paul who clearly proclaimed: “The ﬁrst man was of the earth, earthly, the second man is the Lord from heaven.” (71–2)

Here we see that while it is true that “our lord Jesus Christ came from heaven and above,” this claim is true of him according to the divine nature, and explicitly not true of him according to the human nature (the “holy ﬂesh”). Thus, given these few examples, it is clear that some predications are true of Christ in virtue of his human nature, but not his divine nature. Others are true of him in virtue of his divine nature, but not his human nature. For instance, it is true that “The Word of God suffered blows and death,” and this claim is true according to (secundum) his human nature, and not according to his divine nature. In other terms, the truth of some predications is explained by the human nature of Christ, the truth of others is explained by his divine nature. Elsewhere we have seen that the fathers go so far as to claim that something that appears incompatible with the Word of God’s suffering is true of Christ according to his divine nature: “The Word of God is impassible.” Later, in Chapters 4–7 I will discuss how to make sense of these apparent contradictions. Likewise, “Jesus Christ came down from heaven” is true of Christ according to his divine nature, and not according to his human nature. Finally, note that the fathers are content to use a name drawn from one nature—Word of God; Jesus—and apply a predicate of it drawn from another nature—suffered; came down from heaven. They are willing to say, for instance, that a member of the Trinity suffered. In fact, they demand such statements on pains of heterodoxy (e.g. the Second Council of Constantinople, the tenth anathema against the Three Chapters (Tanner 1990, 118)). Moreover, one cannot derive from a predication’s being true of the whole person, that it is true of each individual nature as well. For while “Christ is impassible” is true of Christ according to the divine nature, “is impassible” is not aptly predicated of the human nature. As some Christologists claim, one can predicate from the natures to the person, but one cannot go backwards, from the person to the natures, or from one nature to the other nature. As Pohle says, “Reduced to its simplest terms, therefore, the Christological law of predication reads: ‘Mutua idiomatum praedicatio valet tantummodo in concreto, non valet in abstracto’ ” (1913, 187). Loosely translated: the communication of predicates is valid when done from the natures to the person, but not when done from the person to the natures (see also Thomas Aquinas, ST IIIa, q. 16, a. 1, ad 2). As the fathers note above, we cannot reason from “Jesus Christ came down from heaven” to “the human nature came down from heaven.” Such an inference is invalid. These rules concerning which predicates are apt of which things have been pulled together by theologians into a doctrine called the communication of idioms, or Communicatio idiomatum in the Latin. Joseph Pohle (1913, 186) describes the doctrine as follows:

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Whatever is predicated of the Divine Person of Christ according to His Divine Nature, can and must be predicated of the same Divine Person also in His human nature, and vice versa; but the predicates proper to the Divine Nature must not be assigned to the human nature and vice versa.

By “also in His human nature,” Pohle does not mean that we say of the human nature that it is, say, omnipotent. Rather, he means that we can use a term that refers to the person by means of the human nature to say something true of the person, even if that something is true in virtue of the divine nature. We can say, for instance, that “The God of glory was cruciﬁed” or “A man created the stars,” both of which are examples Pohle takes from Aquinas (ST. III q.16 a.4). The communication of idioms is employed in confessional Protestantism as well. See, for instance, the Second Helvetic Confession, which says, “we accept believingly and reverently the communication of properties which is deduced from the Scriptures and employed by the ancient Church in explaining and harmonizing seemingly contradictory passages” (Schaff 1919, 403). For an Orthodox afﬁrmation of the communication of idioms, see Metropolitan Hilarion Alfeyev (2012, 264–7), who traces the concept of the communication of idioms through the early eastern fathers.16 The communication of idioms raises a difﬁculty for Conciliar Christology. For if the predicates apt of Christ according to his human nature are apt of the divine person, and the divine person retains as apt the predicates relevant to the divine nature, then it seems as if contradictory predicates will be apt of the same person. Surprisingly, Conciliar Christology owns this entailment. It allows—in fact, requires—that one afﬁrm apparently incompatible predicates of the one Christ. For instance, the Tome of Leo afﬁrms both “that Christ died” and “that Christ is incapable of death.” It says: To pay off the debt of our state, invulnerable nature was united to a nature that could suffer; so that in a way that corresponded to the remedies we needed, one and the same mediator between God and humanity, the man Christ Jesus, could both on the one hand die and on the other be incapable of death [et mori posset ex uno et mori non posset ex altero]. (78, emphasis original)

Here Leo claims that one and the same thing, the man Jesus Christ, can both die and be incapable of death. Both predications, “Christ is capable of death” and “Christ is incapable of death” are true of him. (Note that Leo claims that the human nature can suffer, which gives some evidence for the view that, for Leo, natures are not mere sets of qualities shareable by many things. More on this point in Chapter 2, Section II.b.2.) Even one example of such apparently inconsistent predications being true of Christ is sufﬁcient to generate the problems I will raise later in this book. But the council fathers go further. Cyril writes: For the one and only Christ is not dual, even though he be considered to be from two distinct realities, brought together into an unbreakable union. In the same sort of way a human being, though he be composed of soul and body, is considered to be not dual,

16 I provide a metaphysical model for understanding the communication of idioms in Chapter 3, Section IV.

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but rather one out of two. Therefore, in thinking rightly, we refer both the human and divine expressions to the same person. (55)

The thought here is another application of the analogy I quoted earlier: the soul is to the body as the Second Person is to a body-soul composite. This makes sense, since this passage comes only a few pages later in the same letter as the initial analogy. The claim is that just as, in the pedestrian human case, predications are true of the one human person according to the two constitutive parts she has (body and soul), so likewise, predications are true of the one God-man according to the two constitutive “parts” he has (the divine and human natures). I do not call the natures parts in the straightforward sense, since that would subsume the hypostatic union to a type of relation we understand. Such a subsuming seems to require that the relation be effable in a way inhospitable to Conciliar Christology. Furthermore, understanding the person of Christ as entering into literal part/whole relations with the natures raises some difﬁcult problems, as Thomas Flint (2011) and Thomas Senor (2007) have argued. The claim, I take it, is that just as there are predications which matter and particular souls make true of the things that have them, so, too, there are predications which a human nature and the divine nature make true of anything that has them. The difference in the case of Christ, though, is that the natures make true seemingly incompatible predications of the one man, Jesus Christ. Aside from this general, abstract claim, we get an explicit application of it. The Fourth Council of Constantinople (869–70), which is the 8th Ecumenical Council (on the Catholic reckoning of things, and so not itself part of Conciliar Christology, as I have deﬁned it in this book), says the following about the 7th Ecumenical Council, Second Nicaea (which is a part of Conciliar Christology, as I have deﬁned it in this book): We also know that the seventh, holy and universal synod, held for the second time at Nicaea, taught correctly when it professed the one and same Christ as both invisible and visible lord, incomprehensible and comprehensible, unlimited and limited, incapable and capable of suffering, inexpressible and expressible in writing. (162)17

Conciliar Christology entails the truth of both “Christ is passible” and “Christ is impassible”; of “Christ is visible” and “Christ is invisible,” and so on. And it is one and the same Christ of which these seemingly incompatible predicates are predicated. Elsewhere as well the councils are clear that the predications are made of the same subject. In his Third Letter to Nestorius, Cyril includes the following anathema: 4. “If anyone distributes between the two persons or hypostases the expressions used either in the gospels or in the apostolic writings, whether they are used by the holy writers of Christ or by him about himself, and ascribes some to him as to a man, thought of separately from the Word from God, and others, as beﬁtting God, to him as to the Word from God the Father, let him be anathema.” (59)

17 To see the text from Second Nicaea, see (Lamberz 2008, 3.1:254–9). For a similar text of apparently contradictory conjunctions from the Third Council of Constantinople (680–1), see (Riedinger 1990, 2:454). I thank Fr Brian Dunkle, S. J., for helping me track down these texts.

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This is one reason why the theotokos doctrine—the doctrine that Mary was the bearer of God, and not merely bearer of a human thing separate from the Word— was so important in the early church and councils. It was a test case for whether people would afﬁrm the predicates apt in virtue of his human nature to the whole person of Christ, the very same person as the Second Person of the blessed Trinity. If they were unwilling to utter such predications about the Word, they were deposed of their rank and exiled, as Nestorius was by emperor Theodosius (Tanner 1990, 38). From these passages, and others like them, I take the ecumenical councils to teach that one can predicate two apparently incompatible terms of the same one person, Jesus Christ, the second Person of the Trinity. Later, in Chapters 4–7, I will discuss how the proponent of Conciliar Christology should respond to these charges. It is because the predications to either nature transfer to the whole Christ that Pope Leo could say: For although there is in the Lord Jesus Christ a single person who is of God and of man, the insults shared by both have their source in one thing, and the glory that is shared in another . . . So it is on account of this oneness of the person, which must be understood in both natures, that we both read that the son of man came down from heaven, when the Son of God took ﬂesh from the virgin from whom he was born, and again that the Son of God is said to have been cruciﬁed and buried, since he suffered these things not in the divinity itself whereby the Only-begotten is co-eternal and consubstantial with the Father, but in the weakness of the human nature. (80)

It is because the Son of God came down from heaven that we can truthfully say, even with a subject term that refers by the human nature, “The son of man came down from heaven.” And it is because the human nature suffered that we can truthfully say, even with a subject term that refers by the divine nature, “the Son of God has been cruciﬁed.” And later, the fathers at Third Constantinople claim: we acknowledge that the miracles and the sufferings are of one and the same, according to one or the other of the two natures out of which he is and in which he has his being, as the admirable Cyril said. (129)

Thus, Conciliar Christology teaches that some predications are true of Christ in virtue of one but not both of his natures, that the predications true of Christ secundum his human nature are properly predicated of the very same person, the man Jesus Christ, as the predications true of Christ secundum his divine nature, and that, in some cases, apparently incompatible predicates are predicated of Christ, one according to one nature, the other according to the other.

VII. CONCLUSION In this chapter I have asserted that Conciliar Christology includes certain theses. According to Conciliar Christology, as I shall understand it in this book: (i) There was (and is) one person, Jesus Christ, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, who, after the incarnation, has two complete and distinct natures.

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In Defense of Conciliar Christology (ii) One of these natures is the one and only divine nature, according to which the person of Christ is rightly considered immutable and impassible, and which he shares in no less when incarnate than he did otherwise. (iii) The other nature is a human nature. This nature either (a) is composed of a body ensouled by a rational soul, or (b) entails that the bearer, at least during life, have a body ensouled by a rational soul. According to this nature, Christ is like us in all ways—including having a created will— except sin. (iv) These two natures were united in a unique, ineffable manner, which leaves the natures whole and intact, able to perform their own individual operations, which they perform in communion with one another. This union can aptly be characterized as similar to the union between a soul and the body it informs. (v) Finally, predications are true of the one person, Christ, according to his two natures. Sometimes these predications are true of him according to one nature but explicitly not true of him according to another. In fact, sometimes the natures make apparently incompatible predications true of the one Christ. In such circumstances, both expressions are true of the one God-man, though the predications need not be true of both natures of the God-man.

One can see at the inception of this project the looming charge of incoherence. For how can it be truly said of anything at all that it is both passible and impassible? And how can there be a single person with two wills? And how can an immutable thing become incarnate or become anything else for that matter? In the following chapters I will present these charges in more detail. Then, I will canvas the potential solutions available to the proponent of Conciliar Christology. Before that, though, in Chapter 2, I will present the understanding of the terms and deﬁnitions I will be using in this book (e.g. “person”; “nature”) as well as a listing of necessary conditions for any viable understanding of Conciliar Christology. Then, in Chapter 3, I will provide a metaphysical model of Conciliar Christology that I will be employing in later chapters.

2 Deﬁnitions and Necessary Conditions I . I N T RO D U C T I O N John Hick (1979, 48–9) has claimed that “we have the ofﬁcially adopted metaphysical hypothesis of the two natures, but no accepted account of what it means for an individual to have two natures, one human and the other divine,” and that there is a danger that “the Christian community throughout the centuries” has “created a formula which has no literal meaning.” He has claimed elsewhere (Hick 1977, 178) that Orthodoxy insisted upon the two natures, human and divine, coinhering in the one historical Jesus Christ. But orthodoxy has never been able to give this idea any content. It remains a form of words without assignable meaning. For to say, without explanation, that the historical Jesus of Nazareth was also God is as devoid of meaning as to say that this circle drawn with a pencil on paper is also a square.

Should it worry us if someone cannot understand, without having it explained, the meaning of the claim that Jesus Christ was God? It might be equally devoid of meaning in some listener’s ear were I to say, “space itself is curved” without any explanation.1 Is the supposed meaninglessness, sans explanation, of the claim a problem in the scientiﬁc case? If not, why would it be in the theological case? And if so, why should we expect the technical formulation of a heady concept to be immediately accessible without explanation? While it is true that there is no universally accepted metaphysical model of the incarnation, there are some models with a strong consensus (e.g. the Thomistic model). And even if there were no agreed upon consensus, the claim that the doctrine has no literal meaning at all—and so does not even rise to the dignity of being false—is a danger one might hope to extinguish by providing a model that does, at the very least, allow a truth-value to be assigned to the propositions in question.

1 I borrow this example from Peter van Inwagen, who writes, in a typically delectable passage (2009, 266–7): “The world is full of mysteries. And there are many phrases that seem to some to be nonsense but which are in fact not nonsense at all. (‘Curved space! What nonsense! Space is that which things that are curved are curved in. Space itself can't be curved.’ And no doubt the phrase ‘curved space’ wouldn't mean anything in particular if it had been made up by, say, a science-ﬁction writer and had no actual use in science. But the general theory of relativity does imply that it is possible for space to have a feature for which, as it turns out, those who understand the theory all regard ‘curved’ as an appropriate label.).”

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In this chapter I present the deﬁnitions of terminology that I will be employing throughout this book. I will then present some necessary conditions for any viable model of the incarnation. Then, in the following chapter, I will add some metaphysical ﬂesh to the conciliar skeleton, settling on a model that I take to be consistent with the teachings of Conciliar Christology and that employs a metaphysical system that is common in the Christian intellectual tradition.

I I . T E RM I N O L O G Y In the ﬁrst chapter I used, but did not deﬁne, some important terms employed in the presentation of Conciliar Christology. Some of these terms are hypostasis (also known as supposit or suppositum), person, and nature. In this section, I will deﬁne these terms.

II.a. Hypostasis and Person “Hypostasis” is a philosophical term of art, borrowed from classical Greek. As Tanner (2001, 32) writes: [Hypostasis] in classical Greek had the meanings of support, resistance, lying in ambush, jelly or thick soup, sediment in liquids, origin, foundation, substructure, conﬁdence, courage, resolution, steadfastness, promise, substance, reality or nature, wealth or property, and various other things!

According to Fr Tanner, there are precious few things the term does not mean. On the other hand, St Jerome, when writing to ask Pope Damasus to decide on the doctrine of three hypostases, writes “In the whole range of secular learning hypostasis never means anything but ousia” (Rebenich 2002, 73). In the later Christological debates, the term was reﬁned in order to provide conceptual room for a being with two natures to be a single person. On the traditional understanding, a person is a particular type of hypostasis—a rational one. In the west, we receive the traditional understanding of the term “person” (and the term “nature,” too) from Boethius’ work, De persona et duabus naturis, where he says that a person is an individual substance of a rational nature. Aquinas accepts this deﬁnition and provides an analysis of what it means to say “individual substance” in discussing whether the human nature of Christ is a person. He writes: The “individual substance,” which is included in the deﬁnition of a person, implies a complete substance subsisting of itself and separate from all else; otherwise, a man's hand might be called a person, since it is an individual substance; nevertheless, because it is an individual substance existing in something else, it cannot be called a person; nor, for the same reason, can the human nature in Christ, although it may be called something individual and singular.2

2

St Thomas Aquinas (1920), ST III q.16 a.12 ad.2. I owe this quotation to Leonard Geddes (1911).

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To be an individual substance, according to Aquinas, is to be (i) complete, (ii) subsisting of itself, and (iii) separate from all else. This notion of individual substance, with those three necessary conditions ((i)–(iii)), presents the truth conditions for something’s being a hypostasis (or supposit or suppositum). St John of Damascus deﬁned hypostasis slightly differently. He writes that something is inseparable which is not constituent of a substance because it is not found in the entire species, but which, nevertheless, when it does become present in some hypostasis, cannot be separated from it. Such, for example, are the having of a snub nose, being hook-nosed, being gray-haired, and the like. This inseparable accident is called a characteristic peculiarity. This is because such distinctiveness produces the hypostasis, which is to say, the individual—and an individual is that which subsists in itself of substance and accidents, is numerically distinct from the others of the same species, and does not signify what but whom. (St John of Damascus 1958, 20)

Here John understands hypostasis to refer speciﬁcally to persons, and so, on his view, person is not a species of hypostasis. But, like Aquinas and the later medievals, he counts the hypostasis as an individual that subsists in itself. As such, Christ’s human nature would not count as a whom on this deﬁnition. Elsewhere, interestingly, he writes the hypostasis must have substance together with accidents, and it must subsist in itself and be found to be sensibly, that is, actually, existent. It is furthermore impossible for two hypostases not to differ from each other in their accidents and still to differ from each other numerically. And one should know that the characteristic properties are the accidents which distinguish the hypostasis. (St John of Damascus 1958, 56)

William of Ockham, as both Marilyn Adams and Alfred Freddoso point out, understood hypostasis in a way similar to Aquinas’s take on “individual substance.” They both (Adams and Cross 2005, 37–8; Freddoso 1986, 49) cite the following text from Ockham (the presentation here is from Freddoso): a suppositum is (A) a complete being, (B) incommunicable by identity, (C) not apt to inhere in anything, and (D) not sustained by anything. (A), i.e. “complete being”, rules out any kind of part, be it essential or integral, since neither kind of part is a complete being. (B) rules out the divine essence, which, though it is a complete being, is nonetheless communicable to the divine persons by identity and thus is not a suppositum. For a suppositum is incommunicable by identity. (C) rules out every accident, whether it inheres in anything or not. (D) rules out the nature assumed by the Word, since it is sustained by him.3

From the appearances, conditions (B), (C), and (D) are added to the deﬁnition in order to stave off theological objections from mysteries of the faith: the trinity, the Eucharist, and the incarnation, respectively. The Eucharistic objection may be difﬁcult to see. On the accepted Catholic teaching on the Eucharist, when transubstantiation occurs, the accidents remain, but they do not inhere in Christ. See the anathemas from the Council of Constance (1414–18) for more on this (Tanner 1990, 411, 414–15, 422). Rather, at least some of them remain and inhere 3 The translation is Freddoso’s (1986, 49), who writes, “This passage is from Quodlibeta Septem IV, q. 7, found in a critical edition in J. Wey, ed., Ockham: Opera Theologica (hereafter OT), vol. IX (St Bonaventure, NY: Franciscan Institute Press, 1980), pp. 328–9.”

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in nothing at all. In such a case, conditions (A), (B), and (D) are fulﬁlled. So if (C) weren’t added, such accidents would count as hypostases. Since the accidents are still apt to inhere, even if they do not, (C) staves off objections to Eucharistic theology from accidents being hypostases; see Pawl (2012b, 72–5) for more on the ontology of the Eucharist. There is a sense in which God sustains everything by his concurrence; that is not the sense of “sustain” in (D) here. Rather, the sustaining (D) mentions is meant to capture what the Word does to his human nature, so that the human nature itself does not count as a second suppositum. Ockham and Aquinas’s notions of hypostasis or suppositum are similar, and perhaps co-extensive, depending on the entailments of being a “complete substance” in Aquinas’s terminology. For instance, if x is a complete substance only if x is not apt to inhere in anything, then Ockham’s condition (C) is included in Aquinas’s deﬁnition. In what follows, I will understand the terms “supposit” and “hypostasis” in Ockham’s sense, which I take to be a more explicit presentation of the common medieval view. Thus: Supposit (Hypostasis)

X is a supposit (hypostasis) if and only if x is a complete being, incommunicable by identity, not apt to inhere in anything, and not sustained by anything.

This is not a deﬁnition in a strict sense of genus and differentia. Adams (2005, 37) notes that Ockham claims this to be a nominal deﬁnition of supposit. This deﬁnition is not idiosyncratic; many others have offered something similar or co-extensive. Fr Joseph Pohle (1911b, 222) deﬁnes hypostasis as follows: An Hypostasis is an individual substance, separate and distinct from all other substances of the same kind, possessing itself and all the parts, attributes, and energies which are in it.

Alfred Freddoso (1986, 28) deﬁnes a hypostasis as “an independently existing ultimate subject of characteristics.” John Carlson, in his philosophical dictionary Words of Wisdom (2012, 129, 259), deﬁnes “hypostasis” as “a complete subject of a nature or essence,” where “subject” is understood as “that which primarily exercises being or existence.” Leonard Geddes (1911) provides the following understanding of “hypostasis”: (a) substantia—this excludes accident; (b) completa—it must form a complete nature; that which is a part, either actually or “aptitudinally” does not satisfy the deﬁnition; (c) per se subsistens—the person exists in himself and for himself; he is sui juris, the ultimate possessor of his nature and all its acts, the ultimate subject of predication of all his attributes; that which exists in another is not a person; (d) separata ab aliis—this excludes the universal, substantia secunda, which has no existence apart from the individual.

From this deﬁnition of “supposit,” one can deﬁne the term “person”: Person

X is a person if and only if x is a supposit with a rational nature.

All persons are hypostases, given these deﬁnitions, but not all hypostases are persons. Non-rational animals fulﬁll the necessary and sufﬁcient conditions for being supposita, but, as non-rational, they do not fulﬁll a necessary condition for

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being persons. Again, this is a standard understanding of personhood. Michael Gorman (2011, 430) says of Aquinas’s understanding: “a person must be an individual substance (hypostasis, supposit) and it must have a rational nature.” Aquinas (2012, 13) himself says, “a person is nothing other than a hypostasis or suppositum of a rational nature”. Carlson (2012, 204) deﬁnes “person,” following Boethius, as “an individual supposit of a rational nature.” Flint (2012, 189) claims a person is “a suppositum of an intellectual nature.” Geddes adds the following to his deﬁnition of “hypostasis” (provided above) to yield a deﬁnition of “person”: “(e) rationalis naturae—excludes all non-intellectual supposita.” Pohle (1911b, 224) claims that a “Person is a Hypostasis plus the note ‘intellectual’ or ‘rational.’ ” Emperor Justinian, who called the 2nd Council of Constantinople, wrote learned and careful Christological treatises of his own. In his “Against the Monophysites,” he quotes Cyril as saying: “hypostasis is a term referring to the particular of which the universal is predicated,” and later, in his “Edict on the True Faith,” he writes in his own voice: “hypostasis or prosopon indicates the particular. Consequently, one never observes one prosopon in another” (Wesche 1997, 95, 126). Justinian’s view seems in harmony with the usage of “person” I am employing here. His consequence, in particular, seems worded so as to preclude a person’s inhering or being sustained. Notice that the term “person” is not used in a psychological sense. One might understand the psychological sense of “person” as follows (Carlson 2012, 204): “An individual who manifests the developed traits and abilities associated with human, personal life (e.g. self-awareness, deliberate choice and action).” Fr Joseph Pohle (1911b, 226) emphasizes this point, claiming that the notion of person present in the conciliar statements is not a Lockean notion, according to which “personality is constituted by continued consciousness.”4 On the view of natures I afﬁrm in the following section, Christ’s human nature counts as something that is individual and has the traits associated with human, personal life, but it fails to count as a supposit, owing to its being sustained. Likewise, we have seen in this section that Aquinas claims that Christ’s human nature is individual and singular, but he denies that it, the nature itself, is a hypostasis or person. But that individual and singular human nature has a will, thus fulﬁlling the conditions for being a person in the psychological sense of the term. And so the psychological usage of the term “person” has different entailments than the more metaphysical view of the term that I adopt here. The account of “hypostasis” and “person” I offer here also differs from that of Don Cupitt (1977, 135), a kindred spirit of Hick’s, who explains “human hypostasis” as “person” in the technical sense, roughly equivalent to “individuating principle” or “distinct logical subject-of-predication”, and rather narrower in meaning than “individual spiritual substance.”

On the traditional view I have outlined here, neither a person nor a hypostasis is an individuating principle itself, though a person or a hypostasis might have its

4 See Ferrier (1962, 81) for a host of other similar deﬁnitions from other historical thinkers, including Kant, Leibniz, Renouvier, and Ravaisson. For more discussion of the deﬁnitions of these terms, see Adams and Cross (2005, 23–4); Richard Sturch (1991, 269–74); C. J. F. Williams (1968, 517).

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own individuating principle. Moreover, the phrase “distinct logical subject-ofpredication” is not equivalent with either “hypostasis” or “person,” since more than persons are distinct logical subjects of predication. Accidents are properly predicated by “is an accident,” Christ’s human nature, according to Leo (Tanner 1990, 81), is properly predicated by “was hung, pierced with nails.” But no one will want to claim that an accident is a person on account of being the logical subject of predication, and no Conciliar Christologist will claim that an adequate understanding of the term “hypostasis” or “person” will entail that Christ’s human nature is a hypostasis or a person. The deﬁnition of “person” employed in the debate will become relevant in Chapter 9 where I discuss objections to Conciliar Christology from the numbers of entities Conciliar Christology posits. For instance, some people might think that having two wills is inconsistent with being a single person. There is something to this objection, when the term “person” is used in the modern psychological sense of the term. But nothing precludes a two-willed person on the understanding of “person” presented here, as I will argue at length in Chapter 9, Section IV.

II.b. Nature The deﬁnition of the term “nature” is more vexing and less agreed-upon. In this section I note three sorts of evidence from Conciliar Christology for thinking that the human nature of Christ is a thing composed of body and soul. I then list philosophers, theologians, and historians (not mutually exclusive groups) who take this view of natures. While I think that such a reading of the conciliar texts is correct, it is clear that the history of Christianity has also included some who think that the human nature is something abstract, or non-particular. In fact, some argue that luminaries, including St Thomas, go back and forth between understanding the human nature as something common to many and as something not common to many.5 We can still ask at this point: do the councils say anything that supports one understanding of Christ’s assumed human nature over another. I argue in the following that they do. The ecumenical councils are not as explicit as one might hope on just what a human nature is. Is it a property, or a group of properties, or a universal that all humans instantiate? Is it shared among all humans? Is it a particular individual? Do we each have a numerically distinct nature? Are we our natures?

II.b.1. Two Views of Natures: Abstract and Concrete Oliver Crisp (2007b, 41) does an excellent job of addressing these questions, as well as the contemporary terms by which they are discussed: Some philosophical theologians speak of concrete- and abstract-nature views of the human nature of Christ. A concrete-nature view is one that states that Christ’s human nature is a concrete particular, perhaps a human body, but, traditionally, a human

5 See Richard Cross (1996b, 174–80); Thomas Flint (2012, 189–90); and Michael Gorman (2000b, 60–2).

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body and human soul distinct from the Word. An abstract-nature view says that Christ’s human nature is a property, or set of properties, necessary and sufﬁcient for being human.6

Crisp addresses and deﬁnes these views of nature from within the Christological context, which is reasonable, given his project. But one could explain them generally without reference to Christology. That is, one can understand abstractand concrete-nature views to apply to everything, rather than to Christ alone. We ﬁnd the same distinction drawn almost one hundred years prior as well (Dubray 1911): A few special remarks must be added concerning human nature. This expression may mean something concrete, more or less different in various individuals, or more generally something common to all men, i.e., the abstract human nature by which mankind as a whole is distinguished from other classes of living beings.

One might explain the abstract-nature view as follows: Abstract Nature

x is an abstract nature of some type, y, if and only if x is a property or complex of properties the instantiation of which by a thing is necessary and sufﬁcient for that thing’s being (a) y.

For instance, Caninity is the abstract nature of dogs if and only if it is a property or complex of properties the instantiation of which is necessary and sufﬁcient for anything to be a dog. In this sense of the term “nature,” natures are shareable, instantiable entities. One can think of them as platonic forms, as many of the thinkers in the debate do. One can then discuss different types of abstract natures. A “kind abstract nature” is an abstract nature wherein the substitution instance of y must name a genus or kind. For instance, if “human” is substituted for y, then the property or set of properties that x must instantiate to be y, at least on one traditional understanding of human nature, is the set of the properties: animal, rational. (What of other properties that a human must necessarily have, but are not part of the nature of humanity? What of, say, risibility, to use another traditional example? Or, if there are abundant properties, what of the property of being such that 2 + 2=4? Is that part of the kind-abstract nature? These are good questions, but, as will become clear, I do not need answers to them for anything I set out to do in this book.) An “individual abstract nature” is an abstract nature wherein the substitution instance of y must name an individual. For instance, if “Sally” names a certain woman, then the individual abstract nature will include every property that Sally has to have in order to exist. If there is a property of being identical with Sally, then that is a part of her individual abstract nature, but not a part of the lowest level kind abstract nature under which she falls (i.e. human), since some things are human without being Sally.

6 Crisp goes on, in the pages following this quotation, to discuss different types of concrete or abstract natures, including two- or three-part natures, trope theoretic accounts of natures, and nominalist and realist notions of natures. I cover some but not all of these same views in my forthcoming discussion of how the councils speak of the assumed human nature of Christ.

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There are the necessary and sufﬁcient properties something must have in order to be Sally; then there is the ﬂesh and blood woman, Sally. One might think of concrete natures as individual instances of abstract natures, whether of the kind or individual variety. Since no ﬂesh and blood woman is a property or a set, these two types of natures are distinct. The Catholic Encyclopedia has the following to say about the term “nature” used in a concrete sense, and the relation of the term to other, related terms, “substance” and “essence” (Dubray 1911): [W]hen applied to the same substantial being, the terms substance, essence, and nature in reality stand only for different aspects of the same thing, and the distinction between them is a mental one. Substance connotes the thing as requiring no support, but as being itself the necessary support of accidents; essence properly denotes the intrinsic constitutive elements by which a thing is what it is and is distinguished from every other; nature denotes the substance or essence considered as the source of activities.

This is, to the contemporary ear, an idiosyncratic usage of the term “nature.” But it is common in scholastic philosophy. One can see this most clearly by investigating some principal metaphysics manuals written by the Neo-Scholastics in the ﬁrst half of the 20th century. See, for instance, Celestine Bittle (1942, 265) and Peter Coffey (1938, 257), both of whom identify an individual nature with an individual substance. More recently, Freddoso (1986, 30) has written: Aquinas, Scotus and Ockham all believe that Christ's human nature is a substance composed of a body and an intellective soul. They further agree—very plausibly, it seems to me—that in every case other than the Incarnation, an individual human nature by itself constitutes or just is a human suppositum or human person.

So while I am sympathetic with the contemporary response to this usage of “nature” as being idiosyncratic, or weird, as I have sometimes heard, it is only weird relative to our contemporary usage. The usage has a traditional pedigree. I will provide more evidence for this pedigree in Section II.b.3. I will be using the term “nature” in the concrete sense more broadly than Dubray here, insofar as I will let the term stand for any concrete particular, rather than just for substances. One might explain the concrete-nature view as follows: Concrete Nature

x is a concrete nature of some type, y, if and only if x is an individual instance of y, and y is an inﬁma species.7

An inﬁma species is a lowest level type. Mammal, then, is not an inﬁma species, though a speciﬁc type of mammal is.8 I use the language of inﬁma species here because I want to ensure that Christ has exactly two natures. If the last conjunct of the truth conditions for being a concrete nature (“and y is . . .”) were removed, then since Christ’s concrete human nature is also an individual instance of the abstract nature, Mammality, there would be a mammalian concrete nature there as well. Likewise for other, broader abstract natures. In order to preclude this,

7 This deﬁnition quantiﬁes over inﬁma species. There are other ways of deﬁning the term that do not quantify of species though. For one such way, see Plantinga’s terminology below. 8 To see another discussion of natures which makes use of the notion of inﬁma species, see Deweese (2007, 142–3).

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I have understood the term so that those other abstract natures do not count as viable substitution instances for “y.” Another way one might ensure exactly two concrete natures is to remove the last conjunct, and claim that the concrete human nature is identical with the concrete mammal nature, and with the concrete creature nature, and with the . . . In such a case, there will still be only two natures there, the divine nature, and the created, mammalian, human . . . nature.9 Alvin Plantinga (1999, 184) makes the same distinction in slightly different wording. He writes: [I]n the ﬁrst sense, the term “human nature” denotes a property (or, if you like, group of properties): the property P which is such that necessarily, every human being has P, and necessarily, whatever has P is a human being. In the second sense the term “human nature” denotes a concrete human being rather than a property. In this second sense, the thing denoted by “human nature” and that gets assumed is a human being, a concrete object, not an abstract object like a property. I'll therefore call the ﬁrst view the “abstract nature” view, and the second the “concrete nature” view.

I take Plantinga, Crisp, and Dubray to be drawing the same distinction. What one views the concrete nature of a human to be will be dependent upon the ontological story one tells for humans. If humans are souls, and souls alone, as the view typically called “Cartesian Dualism” claims, then a concrete human nature will be a particular soul. If humans are body-soul composites, as the hylomorphicist contends, then a concrete human nature will be a particular hylomorphic compound of body and soul. Likewise for entities of other categories. If trope theory is correct, then a concrete nature of courage is just some individual courage trope; Kathryn’s courage trope is a concrete nature of courage, in this sense of the term. To keep terminology explicit, it makes sense to have different ways of referring to abstract and concrete natures. This could be accomplished by continually adding the relevant adjective before the word “nature.” But there is another, intuitive, way of differentiating the two. Henceforth, when I wish to refer to abstract natures I will capitalize the name without reference to a concrete nature or supposit. So, for instance, the abstract human nature can be referred to as “Human Nature,” or “Humanity.” And the abstract nature of wisdom can be referred to as “The Nature of Wisdom,” or “Wisdom.” To refer to concrete natures, I will employ the names of the individuals in question, since concrete natures are individual things. The term “Christ’s human nature” refers, then, to the concrete thing that the Word assumed in the incarnation. “Harry’s wisdom” or “Harry’s concrete nature of wisdom” refers to whatever thing it is that plays the property role. If, for instance, trope theory is true, then “Harry’s Wisdom” refers to that particular trope which inheres in Harry, in virtue of which he is wise. A platonic realist about universals may well claim that there is no such thing as a concrete wisdom, whether Harry’s or anyone else’s. Wisdom is abstract, and each of the wise individuals share the very same Wisdom—the abstract nature of wisdom. This is a fair point. The phrase “Harry’s wisdom,” when taken to mean,

9

I thank Mark Spencer for pointing this out in correspondence.

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as I use it here, “that concrete nature which plays the property role and inheres in Harry in virtue of which he is wise” lacks a referent, at least on the platonic realist view outlined in this paragraph. So the platonic realist will not want to use this language, understood as I do. But then the platonic realist will not see this as a hindrance, since she will already be suspicious of such language as “Harry’s wisdom,” for the very reason that it appears to implicate a different wisdom for Harry than for Sally, and this is something up with which the platonic realist will not put. The reader might well be aware of a different distinction that the scholastics drew between concrete and abstract uses of terms. Martin Chemnitz characterizes this distinction well. He writes of the scholastics (1971, 31–2): The terms which indicate Christ’s natures they call abstract. And when they use terms in a speech or doctrinal pronouncement which refer to the natures united in the person of Christ, the Scholastics call this speaking in the abstract or using abstract terms. And they call abstract those doctrinal propositions which consist of abstract terms, that is, terms which indicate or denote the actual natures of Christ. On the other hand, they call those terms concrete which indicate or denote the person of Christ, which subsists in or consists of the two natures. Thus the Scholastics say one is speaking concretely when he attributes something to the person itself or uses terms which refer to the person. And we speak in concrete terms when we use words which denote Christ’s person.

The distinction, then, comes to this. A term is abstract, in this scholastic sense, if and only if it is used to refer to one of the natures of Christ. And a proposition is abstract, in this scholastic sense, if and only if it employs at least one term abstractly (again, in the scholastic sense). And a term is concrete, in the scholastic sense, if and only if it is used to refer to the person of Christ. And a proposition is concrete, in this scholastic sense, if and only if it employs at least one term concretely (again, in the scholastic sense). I will not use this distinction at all in this book. I agree with Chemnitz that the distinction is “useful and correct,” but it would supply needless complexity to distinguish between two uses of “concrete” and “abstract.” Consider just one case of the general difﬁculty that would result. Aquinas asks, in the ST III, q.4, whether “it [was] becoming that He should assume human nature abstracted from all individuals?” Here he means to ask whether Christ ought to have assumed, not a concrete human nature (in the contemporary sense of the term), but the universal Humanity itself. His view is that Christ ought to have assumed a concrete nature (in the contemporary sense). But he says in response to the third objector (Aquinas 1920): “Although human nature was not assumed in the concrete, as if the suppositum were presupposed to the assumption, nevertheless it is assumed in an individual, since it is assumed so as to be in an individual.” Here he uses the term “concrete” in the scholastic sense, and he means that that which was assumed was not itself a person. But the language, when understood in the contemporary sense, makes it sound as if he means precisely the opposite of his answer to the question. It sounds to the uncareful reader as if Aquinas were claiming that Christ does not assume a particular instance of human nature. Instead of noting that I am using a term abstractly (in the scholastic sense) to refer to the human nature of Christ, I will instead put “Christ’s human nature” or

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“CHN” as the subject term of the predication. And likewise for other cases of possible ambiguity.10

II.b.2. Nature Talk in the Conciliar Texts There is good reason to read Conciliar Christology, at least in many cases, as employing “human nature” in a concrete sense. For instance, Leo says in his Tome to Flavian: It does not belong to the same nature [non eiusdem naturae est] to weep out of deepfelt pity for a dead friend, and to call him back to life again at the word of command . . . or to hang on the cross and . . . to make the elements tremble; or to be pierced by nails and to open the gates of paradise for the believing thief. Likewise, it does not belong to the same nature to say I and the Father are one, and to say The Father is greater than I. (80)

Here the text has the appearance of claiming that Christ’s human nature weeps, is hung on a cross, is pierced with nails, and says “the Father is greater than I.” But since a thing common to all humans is not the right sort of thing to weep, hang, suffer, or speak, the text is evidence that Christ’s human nature is something more than a thing common to all humans. Leo goes on to ask an interlocutor positing that in Christ there is but one nature, not two, the following questions: [I]f he accepts the Christian faith and does not turn a deaf ear to the preaching of the gospel, let him consider what nature it was that hung, pierced with nails, on the wood of the cross [quae natura transﬁxa clavis pependerit in crucis ligno]. With the side of the cruciﬁed one laid open by the soldier’s spear, let him identify the source from which blood and water ﬂowed, to bathe the church of God with both font and cup. (Tanner 1990, 81)

If the human nature is something that can aptly be said to hang on a cross or be pierced with nails, then it is something physical. And if it is physical, then it is concrete, not abstract. Lest one think this is a careless slip of the pen by the famed Pope, we ﬁnd Leo saying the same thing with the language of “substance” in a later letter to the Monks in Palestine (Letter 124), where he writes, “Let those imaginary Christians explain then which substance of the Saviour was nailed to the cross?” (2009, 110). Here, as Neil (2009, 104) points out, Leo is using the terms “nature” and “substance” interchangeably (as he used the terms “form” and “substance” interchangeably in the Tome). Finding it in this letter is particularly important, since the letter was written to appease monks who were wary that the Tome might be Nestorian. One would think that in such a letter he would be careful not to say anything that would accidentally provide grist for their mill. 10

Edwin Chr Van Driel has another understanding of Christ’s human nature, which I will not discuss in this book. He writes (2008, 104): “Concerning Christ’s human nature, there is nothing that suggests a being ‘in a state’; his humanity is an existence which is completely identical with an encounter with the transcendental . . . Christ’s ‘human nature’ is thus not a set of properties and powers but is an encounter, an encounter between the divine willing and what is not God.” I do not know what to make of the thought that the assumed nature is itself an encounter between a willing and something that is not God.

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In Defense of Conciliar Christology Chemnitz (1971, 191), too, makes the point that:

we apply what is proper to one nature by itself in the abstract [in the scholastic sense] to the whole person in the concrete [in the scholastic sense], as when we make the correct and true statement that the manhood is born of the Virgin Mary and cruciﬁed by the Jews.

Here he is claiming that it is proper to say of the human nature itself that it was born of the Virgin Mary and cruciﬁed. And because of that, and the communication of the idioms, we can apply these predicates “born of the Virgin Mary” and “cruciﬁed” to the person of Christ as well. This argument requires it to be true that “Christ’s human nature was cruciﬁed.” And again, he says (1971, 216): the union of Christ’s two natures does not take place in order that eternity can be predicated of the divine nature and suffering or wounds of the assumed nature. For these are attributes of these natures which they possess even when we consider them outside the union.

Here again he claims that the human nature suffered, even considered apart from the hypostatic union. The above texts from Leo provide evidence for the second premise of the following argument, which we can call the Leonine argument: 1. If the human nature of Christ referred to in the councils is the sort of thing that can hang on a cross, be pierced, weep, feel pity, and say “the Father is greater than I,” then the human nature of Christ referred to in the councils is a concrete nature. 2. The human nature of Christ referred to in the councils is the sort of thing that can hang on a cross, be pierced, weep, feel pity, and say “the Father is greater than I.” 3. The human nature of Christ referred to in the councils is a concrete nature (From 1, 2).

In defense of the ﬁrst premise, we can reason as follows. Suppose for argument’s sake that the human nature of Christ did all the things listed in the antecedent of the ﬁrst premise. If the human nature of Christ is an abstract nature, then it is a property or a set of properties. And no property or set of properties, understood in the sense of the abstract-nature theorist, is the right sort of thing to hang on a cross, be pierced, weep, feel pity, or say “the Father is greater than I.” In other words, no platonic forms can do or undergo such things. Thus, the human nature of Christ referred to in the councils is not an abstract nature. But the human nature of Christ referred to in the conciliar texts is either an abstract or a concrete nature. So the human nature of Christ in the conciliar texts is a concrete nature. Therefore, discharging the assumption for argument’s sake, if the human nature of Christ referred to in the councils is the sort of thing that can hang on a cross, be pierced, weep, feel pity, and say “the Father is greater than I,” then the human nature of Christ referred to in the councils is a concrete nature—that is, the ﬁrst premise is true. There is also reason to think that Conciliar Christology favors a concrete nature reading given its discussion of the hypostatic union. As I noted in Chapter 1 (Section II and elsewhere), the councils claim that the union is a union of two natures. But when they paraphrase in their discussion of the union they claim that the divine nature unites to “ﬂesh enlivened by a rational soul” (41), or a “holy body rationally ensouled” (44), or “human ﬂesh which is possessed by a rational

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and intellectual soul” (115). Cyril in particular is fond of such paraphrases for the thing that is assumed. And so one can reasonably argue as follows, taking these paraphrases as evidence of Premise Five of the following argument, which we can call the Cyrillic argument: 4. If the human nature hypostatically united to the divine nature in the incarnation is aptly referred to as “ﬂesh enlivened by a rational soul,” a “holy body rationally ensouled,” or “human ﬂesh which is possessed by a rational and intellectual soul,” then the human nature of Christ is concrete. 5. The human nature hypostatically united to the divine nature in the incarnation is aptly referred to by the three above quotations. 6. Thus, the human nature of Christ is concrete (From 4, 5).

Premise 5 is supported by the conciliar quotations listed above in this paragraph. Premise 4 is supported in a way similar to the support of premise 1. Suppose the antecedent of 4 is true, and the human nature of Christ is aptly referred to as “ﬂesh enlivened by a rational soul,” a “holy body rationally ensouled,” and “human ﬂesh which is possessed by a rational and intellectual soul.” No abstract nature is aptly referred to by any of those three referring phrases. And so the human nature of Christ is not an abstract nature. But the human nature of Christ is either abstract or concrete. And so the human nature of Christ is concrete. Discharging the assumption made for conditional proof, we conclude that if the human nature hypostatically united to the divine nature in the incarnation is aptly referred to by the three above quotations, then the human nature of Christ is concrete—that is, Premise 4 is true. I have called these arguments the Leonine and Cyrillic arguments, though one should not derive from these titles that the namesakes of these arguments did not say things that support the other argument as well. For instance, Justinian cites St Cyril’s second letter to Succensus as saying: We must maintain of him who is the one, true Son both the impassibility of his divine nature and the passibility of his human nature, for his ﬂesh was what suffered. (Wesche 1997, 37)

Here Cyril claims that it is the ﬂesh, that is, the human nature, that suffers. Thus, he would afﬁrm Premise 2 of the Leonine argument above. Justinian continues, saying “we ascribe some things to his divine nature and some things to his human nature” (Wesche 1997, 39). It is useful to see how other common views seem at odds with Conciliar Christology. For instance, Garrett Deweese (2007, 144), a proponent of the view that the nature assumed is abstract, says: “At the incarnation, the set of properties that deﬁne human nature are assumed by the Logos and thus are exempliﬁed by a divine person” (144). Here Deweese departs from Conciliar Christology, as I have deﬁned the term. For on Conciliar Christology, the thing assumed can be predicated by the terms used in the Leonine argument, and is paraphrased in the ways I quoted above in the Cyrillic argument. But none of those paraphrases for the human nature assumed by Christ pick out a set of properties, and none of those predicates are predicable of a set of properties, as they would have to be if Deweese were correct. (It will be no surprise to Deweese that his view is contradictory to Conciliar Christology. He argues for Monothelitism while noting that it is

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contrary to the teaching of the Third Council of Constantinople (Deweese 2007, 148).) Similar reasoning applies to other thinkers who take the Logos (that is, the Word, the Second Person) to have assumed an abstract nature. For these two reasons, the Leonine and Cyrillic arguments, I take the human nature of Christ referred to in the conciliar texts to be a concrete nature. Later Western pre-Reformation councils make the point no less clearly. To provide just one example, the Council of Basel (1431–45), in its “Bull of union with the Copts,” claims that the Son “took a real and complete human nature from the immaculate womb of the virgin Mary” (Tanner 1990, 573). Again, as with the previous two arguments, were the human nature of Christ an abstract thing, then it would not be the sort of thing to be taken from a womb. And so it is not abstract. Thus it is concrete. For my purposes in this book, I do not need it to be the case that every instance where the conciliar texts speak of natures is an instance in which they are speaking of concrete natures. Rather, what I need is for there to be conciliar grounds for the claim that there is a concrete human nature which the Logos assumed. That nature will do important work in later chapters. I emphatically do not mean that there is no use for abstract natures in theology, and I do not mean to suggest or imply that there are no such things as abstract natures. I think that there is good evidence that some of these same authors spoke of natures in an abstract sense as well, as I will go one to show in the next section.

II.b.3. The Historic and Contemporary Understandings of the Human Nature of Christ The concrete reading of the human nature of Christ is common in the history of the Church. Alan Spence (2008, 43) claims the concrete nature view is the considered view of the early Alexandrian school. I have already given evidence in my discussion of the Leonine and Cyrillic arguments for reading at least some conciliar texts as requiring the human nature to be understood in the concrete sense. Emperor Justinian seems to understand “nature” in a concrete sense when he writes: [T]he hypostatic union means that the Divine Logos, that is to say one hypostasis of the three divine hypostases, is not united to a man who has his own hypostasis before [the union], but that in the womb of the Holy Virgin the Divine Logos made for himself, in his own hypostasis, ﬂesh that was taken from her and that was endowed with a reasonable and intellectual soul, i.e., human nature. (Wesche 1997, 166)

Here, he, like Cyril before him, paraphrases the human nature as “ﬂesh . . . endowed with a reasonable and intellectual soul.” Again, Justinian approvingly cites St Cyril as saying, in his letter to Eulogius, So then, when we speak of the union [in Christ], we confess that it is a union of ﬂesh endowed with a soul and mind, and of the Logos; and this is how those who speak of two natures think. (Wesche 1997, 86)

Here Cyril afﬁrms that those who speak of two natures uniting in Christ think of one of those natures as ﬂesh endowed with soul and mind—that is, as a concrete nature.

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Richard Cross (2002, 265)—following, as he says, Aloys Grillmeier (1965, 2.2:193)—reads the inﬂuential 6th century theologian Leontius of Byzantium to have adopted a concrete view of natures, thus as having “ultimately set the scene for almost all later Christological speculation about the nature of subsistence.” Examining the medieval west supports this claim. Marilyn McCord Adams (2005, 26; 2006, 123; 2009, 250), Cross (1989; 2002, 265; 2005, 218), Alfred Freddoso (1986, 30–2), and Eleonore Stump (2004, 206–7; 2005, 409) all read the medievals as understanding the human nature of Christ to be a composite of body and soul. Metropolitan Hilarion Alfeyev (2012, 285) writes, in his book on Orthodox doctrine, “The human nature of Christ was mortal, though it became life-giving by virtue of its being deiﬁed from the beginning, i.e. by virtue of the ‘qualities of intermingling.’ ” No abstract nature, though, is mortal. On this view, the human nature is mortal, Christ the person is mortal, the abstract human nature (if there is one) is not mortal, and the divine nature is not mortal. Concerning protestant interpretations of the natures, Richard Cross (2005, 26) claims that Martin Luther and John Calvin likewise held to the concrete view of the human nature of Christ, and that Zwingli thought that the human nature could be taken up and killed (Cross 1996a, 115). Cross (2002, 265) goes so far as to call the concrete nature view “the Protestant assumption.” Oliver Crisp (2007b, 133) notes that Francis Turretin, the important early Reformed theologian, taught that the human nature of Christ was locally transported to heaven, which is something an abstract nature cannot undergo. Martin Chemnitz (1971, 30) writes of the human nature assumed by Christ after approvingly quoting St John of Damascus making the same point he goes on to make: He assumed one particular individual unit (massa) of human nature which was distinct from others by particular attributes. It did not subsist by itself individually before He assumed it, but it subsists in the person of the Logos as an individual as a result of the union in which it was assumed, as we shall explain later.

Chemnitz (1971, 58) later claims that Christ assumed “a complete or total human nature, that is, the substance of body and soul” and that “in regard to the body, the ﬂesh, the blood, the bones, and the other things which pertain to the bodily substance of human nature, so many and so clear are the testimonies [of scripture] that neither the Arians nor the Apollinarians were able to deny or escape them.” Stephen Hipp (2001, 481) claims that “[t]he tradition recognizes that Christ’s human nature is individual.”11 Likewise, Fr Joseph Pohle (1911b, 222) claims that “Christ’s humanity is a substantia prima et integra, that is, a complete human nature, yet no Hypostasis.” But no abstract object is a substantia prima et integra. And so Christ’s humanity was a concrete nature. Reformed systematic theologians make the same point. For instance, Herman Bavinck (2006, 304–8) claims Christ’s human nature to be an individual formed in the womb of Mary. To add two more contemporary thinkers to the list, Oliver Crisp (2009, 105–6) and Katherin Rogers (2010, 96) accept this view as well. C. J. F. Williams (1968, 518) humorously writes: The second trouble about the view that the nature which the Word assumed was the universal humanity in which we all share is that there is no such thing. And if there

11

Also see Hipp (2001, 23, footnote 34, and 32–50).

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were, to say that our Lord became it would be to obscure the truth that he became “like us in all things, save only sin”; for you and I and old Uncle Tom Cobley are men, not humanity. . . . The human nature of Christ is an individual nature, not some Platonic abstraction.

On the other side, many people in the debate deny that the nature referred to in the conciliar Christological texts is a concrete nature. Moreland and Craig (2003, 598) assert that both the Antiochene and the Alexandrian schools of Christology view natures as “essential properties that make the things what they are.” John McIntyre (1966, 105) writes that the “human nature as such is what we would call the logical universal.” Richard Cross (2002, 250) claims the Cappadocians thought of natures as universals; Stephen Hipp (2001, 471–2) reads them similarly. Stephen Davis (2011, 117) says, “A nature, we can say, is the set of the essential properties of a substance, where an essential property is a property that the substance has in every possible world in which it exists.” He then goes on in a footnote to understand properties as universals. Thomas Senor (2011, 88) also afﬁrms the abstract view of natures. See also O’Collins (2002, 70), who writes that the contemporary understanding of natures as “essential features or properties of something” “stands in continuity with Chalcedon’s teachings.” Augustus Strong (1907, 695) writes that “nature is substance possessed in common; the persons of the Trinity have one nature; there is a common nature of mankind.” Louis Berkhof (1965, 321) claims that The term “nature” denotes the sum-total of all the essential qualities of a thing, that which makes it what it is. A nature is a substance possessed in common, with all the essential qualities of such a substance.

For Berkhof, as for many others in the debate, the nature is not the ﬂesh and blood thing; it is a set of qualities shared by all ﬂesh and blood things that are humans. Earlier I quoted Justinian as using the term “nature” to refer to a concrete thing. He also used the same term to refer to a universal thing. Justinian (Wesche 1997, 48–9) writes that “the term ‘nature’ refers to the universal reality; it indicates something indeterminate and is predicated of many hypostases.” And again, in a longer, but no less clear passage from his “A Letter on the Three Chapters”: Nature is different from hypostasis or prosopon: nature indicates what is commonly and generically predicated of all prosopa, whereas hypostasis or prosopon indicates the particular. (Wesche 1997, 126)

In these texts, Justinian clearly has an abstract notion of “nature” in mind. St John of Damascus can be quoted on this side of the debate as well. He writes of the “holy Fathers” that they said that “that which is common to and afﬁrmed of several things, that is to say, the most speciﬁc species, they called substance, and nature, and form—as, for example, angel, man, horse, dog, and the like” (1958, 56). And again: “Form, also, and species mean the same thing as nature.” Elsewhere (1958, 104–5), John draws an analogy between Christ’s hypostatic union with the body-soul composite, on the one hand, and the union of body and soul together, on the other. He calls each of the body and soul a “nature.” There he writes: It is further necessary to know that it is possible for natures to be united to each other hypostatically, as in the case of man, and that it is also possible for the hypostasis to

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assume an additional nature. Both of these are to be observed in Christ, because in Him the divine and human natures were united, while His animate body subsisted in the pre-existent hypostasis of God the Word and had this for a hypostasis.

While John and the holy Fathers were willing to speak of natures as abstract—or as speciﬁc species, as he words it—he also spoke of the individual body, the individual soul, and the individual concrete human nature as natures, too. And it is the individual human nature that is united to the divine nature in Christ, as Chemnitz approvingly notes above.12 Philip Schaff (1919, 30) sees the abstract nature view as one of the “leading ideas of the Chalcedonian Christology as embodied in this symbol,” that is, in the Chalcedonian deﬁnition of faith. He continues: 2. The precise distinction between nature and person. Nature or substance . . . denotes the totality of powers and qualities which constitute a being; while person . . . is the Ego, the self-conscious, self-asserting and acting subject. The Logos assumed, not a human person (else we would have two persons, a divine and a human), but human nature—which is common to us all; and hence he redeemed, not a particular man, but all men as partakers of the same nature.13

Richard Cross seems to think something similar is present in the Council of Chalcedon. He (1996b, 171) writes: I think that it is fairly clear that the distinction that the Council of Chalcedon presupposes must be something like the distinction between an individual, on the one hand, and its kind-nature and non-essential properties on the other. The position would then be that the second person of the Trinity began to instantiate some kindnature (viz., human nature) which he did not previously instantiate, without this entailing that the person ceased being divine. The human nature, on this view, would be a non-essential property—or a non-essential kind-nature—of the second person of the Trinity.

For my part, I do not see that the Chalcedonian symbol includes either the deﬁnition of person or of nature that Schaff claims it does. In addition, I do not see the council as a whole drawing the distinction that Cross claims it does. In fact, I think the Tome of Leo, included in the council, clearly does not intend “nature” in the sense Cross gives the term here. Sarah Coakley (2004, 148, 162), contra Schaff, claims that the Deﬁnition of Chalcedon does not speak to the issue of what, exactly, Christ’s human nature is. On that point, I think she is right. But other conciliar texts, for instance, the above-quoted text from Leo’s Tome, and the letters from Cyril that refer to the assumed human nature as something of ﬂesh and blood, does seem to motivate the claim that Christ’s human nature is a ﬂesh and blood thing. In this section I have deﬁned the terms hypostasis (or suppositum or supposit), person, and nature. I have provided multiple deﬁnitions of “nature” and noted that I will focus on the concrete notion, which there is good evidence to think that the authors of the conciliar statements had in mind, though, as I noted above,

12 To see John’s discussion of what I have called, following Crisp, the abstract and concrete natures, and his afﬁrmation of the Word’s assuming a concrete nature, see St John of Damascus (1958, 142–6). 13 I owe this reference to Alvin Plantinga (1999, 192).

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there is good reason to think that the authors also used the same term to refer to abstract natures as well. It is prudent to reﬂect at this point on the wise words of Fr Pohle, whose understanding of the terms “hypostasis,” “person,” and “nature” I have followed above. He (1911, 227) warns: The terminology which we have explained above is deﬁnitively ﬁxed by ecclesiastical and theological usage. It is the product of a historical development which involved harsh and weary struggles extending over the ﬁrst four or ﬁve centuries of the Christian era, and it must not be changed. It took a long time to determine which are the best terms to be employed for designating Nature, Hypostasis, and Person.

II.c. The Terms used to Refer to the Person and Natures One ﬁnal point concerning terminology has to do with what the standard terms in the debate name. What does the term “Jesus Christ” name? Brian Leftow at one time used “Jesus Christ” to name the composite of God the Son, the created human body, and the created human soul of Christ.14 In this sense, the term does not name a person; it names a whole that has a person (God the Son) as a part. Anna Marmodoro and Jonathan Hill (2011, 13) use the name “Jesus Christ” to refer to the human nature and use a person pronoun to refer to it: Whatever version of the model they adopt, compositionalists who wish to remain orthodox will stress that Jesus—the human “part” of Christ—is not, in himself, a person, even though he may have the full complement of parts or faculties that other people have.

Likewise, Holland (2012, 81) writes: Christ existed, as the divine Word of God, and then at a particular point became incarnate in Jesus—who, being man, did not exist prior to the Incarnation event.

Here the word “Jesus” is used to name something that did not exist prior to the Incarnation. But then it cannot name the Second Person of the Trinity, since that person did exist prior to the incarnation. Richard Sturch (see, for instance, 1991, 122, 141) at points writes of a distinction between God the Son, on the one hand, and the man Jesus on the other. Perhaps the term “Jesus Christ” should be used in a third sense to name the person, and not, as Leftow used it, a non-personal whole composed of a personal part, and not, as Marmodoro and Hill used it, an impersonal part of the larger person. Such a disparate array of uses for the name “Jesus Christ” can complicate Christological discourse. It is best to stipulate deﬁnitions and stick with them, as I will do here. In this book, I will use the terms “Christ’s human nature,” or “CHN” for short, to refer to the assumed, concrete human nature of Christ. I will use the term “the divine nature” to refer to the divine nature. The names “Christ,” “Jesus,” “The 14 Leftow (2004); see also Senor (2007). Leftow denied that the composite of God the Son, the created human body, and the created human soul of Christ was a person. He has since stopped using the name “Jesus Christ” in this manner (Leftow 2011, 321).

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Word,” “The Lord,” and “The Second Person” all refer to the divine person. Here I follow standard, historical usage, which can be found in the Deﬁnition of faith from Chalcedon: We all in one voice teach the confession of one and the same Son, our Lord Jesus Christ: the same perfect in divinity and perfect in humanity, the same truly God and truly man, of a rational soul and a body; consubstantial with the Father as regards his divinity, and the same consubstantial with us as regards his humanity . . . one and the same Christ, Son, Lord, only-begotten, acknowledged in two natures . . . the property of both natures is preserved and comes together into a single person and a single subsistent being; he is not parted or divided into two persons, but is one and the same only-begotten Son, God, Word, Lord Jesus Christ. . . . (Tanner 1990, 86)

Here we ﬁnd the words “Son,” “Word,” “only-begotten,” and “Lord Jesus Christ” all referring to the single person who is both true God and true man. I will follow Chalcedon and Conciliar Christology more generally in using these terms as names for the person, not a whole composed of the person as a part, and not merely CHN. The usage I will employ of these terms is not only found in the councils, but also continues through church history. Kenneth Wesche, in his introduction to the Christological writings of Emperor Justinian, writes of Justinian’s understanding of the term “Jesus” in Chalcedonian Christology: The Divine Logos in his Incarnation did not take to himself a man or human nature by the name of Jesus, but rather himself became fully man while remaining fully God; that is to say, the Divine Logos himself took the name “Jesus” . . . when he became man. This means that “Jesus” is not some ontological entity in any way other than or in some kind of relation to the Divine Logos, but Jesus the Christ is the Divine Logos himself. (Wesche 1997, 12–13)

This usage of terms is also found in the catechism of the council of Trent (1982), which says: “Jesus is the proper name of the God-man and signiﬁes Saviour” (33). It goes on to say that “Christ” and “Son” refer to that same person. Likewise, concerning the phrase “the Word,” it says (1982, 42): The Word, which is a Person of the Divine Nature, assumed human nature in such a manner that there should be one and the same Person in both the divine and human natures.

With the questions of terminology settled, I now turn to discussing the necessary metaphysical conditions for a viable Conciliar Christology.

III. THE NECESSARY CONDITIONS In the ﬁrst chapter I presented the Christology of the early councils. Here I draw some conclusions from that Christology in the form of necessary conditions for a viable metaphysical model of the incarnation, given Conciliar Christology. These are not all the necessary conditions for a viable metaphysical model, but I do think that they are the ones most often ﬂouted in contemporary treatments of the metaphysics of the incarnation, and so the ones most in need of explicit enunciation.

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A ﬁrst necessary condition for a viable metaphysical model of the incarnation is that it must maintain the proper number of things in Christ. There must be exactly one person, two natures, and two wills. The councils do not, so far as I know, explicitly mention two intellects. But some of the arguments given by the proponents of dyothelitism—the view that Christ has two wills—apply equally well to the claim that he has two intellects. Those arguments that rely upon scripture—for instance, the “not my will but yours” language in the passion (Luke 22:42)—ﬁnd parallel passages to support two intellects—for instance, Jesus’s growth in wisdom and stature (Luke 2:52), and some readings of his not knowing who touched him (Mark 5:30) or the day and hour of the Final Judgment (Matthew 24:36/Mark 13:32). I say “some readings,” since many in the tradition, for instance, Aquinas and St Gregory the Great, deny that Christ, even in his human intellect, was ignorant of either who touched him or the day of ﬁnal judgment.15 A second necessary condition for a viable model is that whatever ontology of the human being is true of the concrete nature of mere humans, that ontology is also true of the concrete human nature of Christ. For instance, if one is a materialist about mere human persons, then one should believe that CHN is likewise wholly material. Or if one is a hylomorphic theorist about human persons, such that human persons are composed of matter and substantial form, then one should believe that CHN, too, is composed of both matter and substantial form.16 A third necessary condition is that CHN must have something that is aptly referred to as a “soul” and something that is aptly referred to as “ﬂesh” or “a body.” For, as we saw above, that to which the divine nature unites is aptly referred to, according to Conciliar Christology, by the phrases “ﬂesh enlivened by a rational soul,” a “holy body rationally ensouled,” and “human ﬂesh which is possessed by a rational and intellectual soul.” I am not here claiming that one must understand CHN in a hylomorphic way, though I see that as the most natural way to read these passages. It might be, as Oliver Crisp (2009, chap. 7) discusses at length, that someone could make these claims consistent with a materialist view of the human person. One might claim that the soul of Christ is really the emergent properties that arise from the matter of his body when it is arranged to a sufﬁcient level of complexity.17 I am not saying that such a Christology will be ultimately consistent with Conciliar Christology, but I am not ruling it out here either. While the seven councils whose incarnational teachings comprise Conciliar Christology do not, so far as I know, require any certain beliefs about just what souls are, later councils, considered to be ecumenical by Catholics, do. The Fifth Lateran Council (1512–17) says:

15 For more on this topic, see Pawl (2014c; 2014d), in particular, the sections entitled “the knowledge and freedom of Christ” in both of these articles. 16 Thomas Flint (2012, 189) and Alfred Freddoso (1986, 27) make this point as well. 17 Timothy O’Connor helpfully has suggested (without endorsement) this as a possible reading of “soul” in conversation.

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we condemn and reject all those who insist that the intellectual soul is mortal, or that it is only one among all human beings, and those who suggest doubts on this topic. For the soul not only truly exists of itself and essentially as the form of the human body . . . but it is also immortal. (Tanner 1990, 605)

The Council of Vienne (1311–12) says something similar two hundred years earlier; see (Tanner 1990, 360–1). A fourth necessary condition is that whatever it is that plays the role of the human soul in one’s model of the incarnation, that thing cannot be the person of Christ, or the divine nature, or something else divine. Such views were condemned in the ecumenical councils, and so are inconsistent with Conciliar Christology. See, for instance, the fourth anathema at the Second Council of Constantinople, which condemns those who do not accept “that the union occurred of the Word of God with human ﬂesh which is possessed by a rational and intellectual soul” (Tanner 1990, 115). It is difﬁcult to see how, given the teachings of Conciliar Christology, one could make sense of the Word playing the role of Christ’s soul, as some people contend. (This view is known as Apollinarianism, and is condemned multiple times over in the seven councils.) For, were the Word to play the role of the soul of Christ, as the Apollinarians claim and moreover, were the Word to unite to ﬂesh enlivened with a rational and intellectual soul, as Conciliar Christology claims, the Word would be hypostatically united to a composite that has as a part that very Word. That is, the Word would play the role of the soul of the body, and then, given the anathema from Second Constantinople, that Word/ﬂesh composite would be that to which the Word is united in the hypostatic union. I ﬁnd it difﬁcult to make sense of this. I am not here claiming that Apollinarius was committed to this claim. He would deny the characterization of the thing assumed. According to Apollinarius, the thing assumed was not a composite of a human soul and ﬂesh, but, instead, just the ﬂesh. And so, on his view, there is not a ﬁrst uniting of the Word to the ﬂesh, then a second uniting of the Word to that union of Word and ﬂesh. Rather, there is just one uniting. His theory removes the difﬁculty of understanding a doubled hypostatic union, but only at the cost of denying what the councils say multiple times over: that the non-divine relatum of the union includes a rational soul.18 Furthermore, there is no evidence of this sort of double hypostatic uniting in the conciliar texts, nor in any systematic theology of which I am aware.19 So far as I know, no one has ever held such a view in all of Christendom.20 Thus, as Crisp argues forcefully (2007b, chap. 2), any view that holds there to be no soul there, or holds the soul to be the Second Person is a view inconsistent with Conciliar Christology. A ﬁfth necessary condition for a viable model of the incarnation, given the thrice-proclaimed ineffability of the hypostatic union in the Conciliar texts (see Chapter 1, Section V), is that the hypostatic union between the natures of Christ 18

I thank Ryan Mullins for bringing this point to my attention. More on this in Chapter 3, Section III. 20 I say this as a means to being quickly corrected. For just as there is nothing so foolish that no philosopher has said it, there is no Christological view so bizarre that it does not have some champion somewhere. I leave it to the scholars to point out said champion. 19

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must remain ineffable on any model of Conciliar Christology. As such, a model must not provide a full analysis of the union and how it works. The cynic might view this as a useful excuse on the part of a Conciliar Christologist to refrain from doing hard metaphysical work. The cynic would not be wrong. Although, on the other hand, one might also view this as a careful act of omission on the part of the Councils, in an effort to remain as metaphysically neutral as coherence allows, which might be wise given the apparent consistency of the Biblical evidence on this matter with a wide variety of distinct models.21 The sixth and ﬁnal necessary condition that I will enumerate here is that the model must honor Conciliar Christology’s claim that the hypostatic union leaves intact the proper characters of both natures. The important point here is that each nature stays how it is without loss. That nature, when joined in the person of Christ, is not in any way diminished from how it would be, were it not so joined. The difference between the natures is not removed, but they retain their proper character. And, importantly, they keep their functions, but perform them in communication with one another. The Deﬁnition of faith by the gathered fathers at Chalcedon likewise states: at no point was the difference between the natures taken away through the union, but rather the property of both natures is preserved and comes together into a single person and a single subsistent being . . . (Tanner 1990, 86; this was repeated verbatim at Third Constantinople)

The natures are not changed, and, in this atypical case, they do the same things they do in typical cases of nature possession. With these six necessary conditions in place, we can go on to provide a skeletal model of the incarnation.

I V . T H E B A R E B O N ES MO D EL In this section I will spell out the minimal metaphysical requirements for a metaphysical model of the incarnation. I will focus on the concrete natures of material substances (Section IV.a.), the ontology required for contingent predications (IV.b.), the divine nature (IV.c.), the relation between truth and reality (IV.d.), the hypostatic union (IV.e.), and the fulﬁllment of the six necessary conditions listed above (Section IV.f.). In presenting the model, I will use pictorial representations, which I ﬁnd useful in explicating difﬁcult metaphysical issues.22

IV.a. The Concrete Natures of Material Substances A concrete human nature is a composite of soul and body, again, understood however one understands the conciliar statements to have used those terms.

21 22

I thank Jeffrey Snapper for pointing out this option. My method of pictorial representation is borrowed from Paul Spade (2009).

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A pictorial representation might be useful. Let a circle represent the concrete nature of a material object (see Figure 2.1).

Soul Body

Figure 2.1. A representation of the concrete nature of a material substance

The location of the soul and body are not important to the model. We could have just as easily split the circle vertically rather than horizontally to represent the composition of body and soul. Likewise, the bottom-half could have represented the soul with no loss. Since sometimes we might have to discuss multiple concrete human natures, we do well to represent them in a way that demarcates their parts one from another, as in Figure 2.2. Soul-1

Soul-2

Body-1

Body-2

Figure 2.2. Multiple concrete human natures

The numbering does not matter. We could have named the body united to Soul-1, “Body-2,” and the body of Soul-2, “Bretenda,” had we so desired. The names do not matter so much as having a consistent way of referring to the bodies and souls in question does. Furthermore, it seems possible, even on some materialist renditions of “soul,” that two different souls could be associated with the same parcel of matter. Perhaps, through sheer coincidence, all of the matter that composed a man in ad 234 now composes me. In such a case, though it makes sense to say that we are composed of the same matter, it sounds less plausible to say we have the same body.23 This is because the word “body” is ambiguous. In some instances, people mean it to be that to which the soul unites. In other instances, people mean it to be that which is the result of the union of soul and matter. It is clear from the quotations I provide that the fathers understood “body” in the ﬁrst sense, since they took it to refer to that which united with the soul. In order to avoid the ambiguity inherent in the term “body,” I will use “matter” as a synonym for the ﬁrst meaning of body—that to which the soul unites. As such, the pictures would be more perspicuous if they focused on matter rather than bodies. 23 Suppose one is a hylomorphic theorist who believes that sameness of matter requires as a necessary condition the sameness of form. In such a case, one will still have to make sense of what it is that remains the same through change in substantial form. Let the matter I refer to be that thing or things, whatever it is, that remains through a change in substantial form. Two things in quick succession can have that principle of sameness through substantial change. Let that, then, be the example here, rather than the slow succession between me and the guy in 234.

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In fact, on some notions of the human person, a necessary condition for x being the same body as y is x’s being informed by the same soul as y. But then, were we to continue speaking of “bodies,” the lower half of the circle would become derivative on the upper half in a way that is unhelpful for tracking material changes and difference. We could represent the case of the same matter being part of two distinct concrete human natures over time as follows, where “t1” and “t2” name different times, as in Figure 2.3. Soul-1

Soul-2

Matter-1

Matter-1

t1

t2

Figure 2.3. The same matter with different souls at different times

We would represent Locke’s famous case in An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (chap. 27, sec.15) of the prince exchanging souls with the cobbler in a similar way (whether or not we accept the possibility of such a case), as in Figure 2.4. Soul-1

Soul-2

Soul-2

Soul-1

Matter-1

Matter-2

Matter-1

Matter-2

t1

t2

Figure 2.4. A representation of a soul swap

Or if one wishes to read with the learned and watch the Disney Channel with the vulgar, one can use the same image to discuss the metaphysics of Freaky Friday (Waters 2003). In such a scenario, the souls “swap” the parcels of matter that they are attached to at t1 and t2.

IV.b. The Ontological Conditions for Contingent Predications Consider a contingent predication, such as “Kathryn is courageous.” This is true, but it might have been false. Consider the ontological story you tell for the truth of “Kathryn is courageous.” She might stand in an exempliﬁcation relation to a platonic form of Courage; she might be a bundle of tropes collocated with a courage trope (or including a courage trope); she might have an inhering accidental form of courage, etc. Let the role that platonic universals, or tropes, or accidents play in these ontological stories be called “the property role.” And let the individual things posited to ﬁll the property role be called “property-role fulﬁllers.” I will represent the property-role fulﬁllers as pins poked into the circular pincushion of the nature. An artifact of such representation is that it will appear

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that the property is somehow attached to the concrete human nature through a certain part of the nature, but we should not interpret the pin location as telling us which part of the material nature bears the property: the whole compound of matter and soul bears the property. If we do all that, we can present a picture of the relevant state of the world when it is true that “Kathryn is courageous,” as in Figure 2.5.

Soul Kathryn

Courage

Matter-1

Figure 2.5. A representation of property having

Of course, there are very many more property-role fulﬁllers that Kathryn has, that are not represented in this picture. “Kathryn” here names the whole person, not merely the soul (supposing that Kathryn isn’t just the soul; if she is the soul alone, then “Kathryn” does name the soul). At this point I leave it an open question whether each true predication requires something to fulﬁll the property role. Both “Kathryn is human” and “Kathryn is courageous” are true. It might be, for all I’ve said, that a property-role fulﬁller is required for both of these true predications. But it might also be that only some predications require property-role fulﬁllers to be true.

IV.c. The Divine Nature Given that in this section I want to make as few commitments as possible, I will represent the divine nature in a way consistent with divine simplicity, but with no intention of assuming divine simplicity. The seven ecumenical councils do not explicitly teach divine simplicity. The closest they come is from the Tome of Leo, in which the Pope says, all of this [the devil’s trickery of man and our resultant fall] called for the realisation of a secret plan whereby the unalterable God, whose will is indistinguishable from his goodness, might bring the original realisation of his kindness towards us to completion by means of a more hidden mystery. (Tanner 1990, 79, emphasis added)

Later councils, which the Catholic Church claims to be ecumenical, do claim that God is simple in no fewer than three texts. See the Fourth Lateran Council’s constitutions “On the Catholic Faith” and “On the Errors of Abbot Joachim” (Tanner 1990, 230, 232), and the First Vatican Council’s ﬁrst chapter of Session 3, “On God the Creator of All Things” (Tanner 1990, 805). The Latin in all three cases is “simplex omnino.” These are the only three places, so far as I know, where the councils recognized as ecumenical by the Catholic Church take an explicit stand on divine simplicity. And while the church deﬁnes (in the Catholic sense of declaring the truth) that God is simple, she does not deﬁne (in a philosophical sense) what the term “simplex omnino” means.

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Given my desire to remain neutral on the truth of divine simplicity, as least with respect to the Christology offered in this book, let the divine nature be represented as Figure 2.6 has it.

Figure 2.6. A representation of the divine nature

If one denies divine simplicity, then the divine nature, too, may bear pins in the same way that Kathryn does. If one understands the divine nature to be simple, then one can understand its plain black-dottedness to represent its utter lack of composition.

IV.d. The Relation between Truth and Reality Now, consider the relation between truth and reality. Truth depends on reality in a way that reality does not depend on truth. The way the world is (understood in whatever way one understands such a claim) is that in virtue of which truths are true.24 It is because Kathryn is a certain way that it is true that “Kathryn is courageous.” Were there no Kathryn, or were she inclined to run from any danger, no matter how mild or improbable, then the claim “that Kathryn is courageous” would be false. Deﬁne a “typical case” as a case in which a thing has only one concrete nature. An “atypical case,” then, is a case in which a thing has more than one concrete nature. The only atypical case I know of is the case of Christ, who possessed both the same divine nature as the Father and Spirit, and a concrete human nature of the same type as (but not numerically identical to) yours and mine. I take the claims that Conciliar Christology makes about how each nature retains its proper function in the hypostatic union to give us some motivation to think that in atypical cases of nature possession, the dependence of truth on reality is left unchanged. I take this to be in agreement with what Ott says (1960, 161), when he says: The nature of the Hypostatic Union is such that while on the one hand things pertaining to both the Divine and the human nature can be attributed to the person of Christ, on the other hand things speciﬁcally belonging to one nature cannot be predicated of the other nature.

Likewise, I ﬁnd it consonant with the recent Common Christological Declaration between the Catholic Church and the Assyrian Church of the East, which says (Dupuis 2001, 277) “In him has been preserved the difference of the natures of divinity and humanity, with all their properties, faculties and operation.”

24

There are multiple ways to understand the dependence of truth on reality. One such way is truthmaker theory. See the discussions of Armstrong (2004); Merricks (2009); and Pawl (2008, chap. 1; 2014a). Lewis (2001b; Lewis and Rosen, 2003) discusses other ways, including the supervenience of truth on being; on that front, see the work of Julian Dodd (2001) as well.

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Whatever truths depend upon the divine nature and its property-role fulﬁllers (if it has property-role fulﬁllers) in typical cases (e.g. the case of the Holy Spirit and the Father), similar truths depend upon the divine nature and its propertyrole fulﬁllers in atypical cases.25 And likewise whatever truths depend upon concrete human natures and their property-role fulﬁllers in typical cases (e.g. Kathryn and her courage), similar truths depend upon concrete human natures and their property-role fulﬁllers in atypical cases. We might put the point another way: Typical Dependence:

If some truth, t, would depend upon some things, the xs (e.g. a concrete nature; property-role fulﬁllers), were the xs in a typical case of nature possession, then t would depend upon the xs were the xs in an atypical case of nature possession.

Christ, according to Conciliar Christology, has a body just like yours and mine, and his body has certain positions, just like yours and mine. And if my body is arranged just like this, and in virtue of that arrangement (or in virtue of the man and the arrangement), it is true that “I am arranged just so;” then, for Christ, were his body arranged just like this, in virtue of that arrangement (or . . .), it would be true that “He is arranged just so.”

IV.e. The Hypostatic Union In the atypical case of the hypostatic union, a concrete human nature comes together with the divine nature in such a way that they are both natures of the same one divine person, and in such a way that neither is diminished, and each keeps its proper activities and functions. I represent that momentous event in Figure 2.7. Soul CHN Matter-3

Jesus Christ

Figure 2.7. A representation of the hypostatic union

The line with the x through it in the middle represents the hypostatic union. The bracket has no ontological import; it is meant to show that the name “Jesus Christ” refers to that whole thing. Other names that name the whole divine person are “the Word,” “the Logos,” “the Son,” “the Son of God,” and “the Second Person 25 Christians traditionally claim that the Holy Spirit is the Spirit of the Son, and, in the West, that the Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son. But the Son is not the Spirit of the Son, and the Son certainly does not proceed from both the Father and himself. And so there are some predications true of the Holy Spirit but not true of the Son. What, then, makes these true, if not the Divine Nature? This is a great question, but a question for a different time and context.

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of the Trinity.” Each of these names is the name of a person, and each names numerically the same person. In either case, the predicates that “ﬂow” to the person are the ones that fulﬁll Typical Dependence. This model is what is sometimes called a “three-part Christology.” As Oliver Crisp (2007b, 41–2) presents the terminology: There are also what we might call “parts” Christologies, according to which Christ is composed of a number of “parts”, usually two or three parts. Two-part Christologies state that Christ is composed of two “parts”, the Word and a human body. The Word either possesses the property of being a human soul in relation to this body, from the Incarnation onwards, or stands in the relation to this human body that a soul does. Three-part Christologies say that Christ has three “parts”: the Word, and a human nature comprising a body-and-soul composite, distinct from the Word.

Philosophers should not automatically read this language of “parts” as mereological. One does ﬁnd proponents of mereological parthood as the way to understand Christology. Brian Leftow (2004, 2011, see especially p. 321), for instance, is such a proponent. Elsewhere, though, one ﬁnds the language softened or hedged. For instance, Thomas Flint (2012, 190) writes: [I]f CHN was assumed by the Son of God, then CHN was a part (or, more plausibly, something rather like a part) of an essentially impeccable person.

Joseph Pohle (1913, 145) writes that the ecumenical councils, the church fathers, and the medieval schoolmen all write of hypostasis Christi composita, that is, of the composite hypostasis of Christ. Though he hastens to add (Pohle 1913, 146) that this composition cannot be conceived strictly as a component part (compars) or ingredient of the Logos, or of the totum which it forms together with the Logos. For this reason theologians usually designate the sacred humanity of our Redeemer as quasi-pars or conceive it per modum partis, i.e., as a component part in a purely ﬁgurative sense.

If I use “part” language in my own voice in what follows, I intend it to be understood in this ﬁgurative sense as well. Metaphorically speaking, one might view the line with an “x” through it that represents the hypostatic union as two arrows butting up against each other. Each arrow is a conduit through which predicates ﬂow. The point at which the arrows meet opens and lets the predicates “spill onto” the person of Jesus Christ, the Word, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity. Or, imagined another way, the “x” is a spigot, and each line leading to the “x” is a garden hose; the spigot pours the predicates to the person, but does not let any of the water splash onto the other water source (e.g. the other nature). These metaphors are just nice images, of course. I am not providing them to explain how the communication of idioms works.

IV.f. Fulﬁllment of the Necessary Conditions Consider now the necessary conditions I presented earlier. The ﬁrst is that the numbers of persons, natures, and wills be one, two, and two, respectively. In order to ensure a single person, there must be a single hypostasis, since both natures are

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rational. For, were both natures rational, and were each to count as a hypostasis, then each would, by itself, fulﬁll the conditions required to be a person, and so each would be a person. Were there two hypostases, there would be two persons. A single hypostasis is ensured if we understand Christ’s human nature to be sustained by the divine nature and person, since then the human nature does not fulﬁll the ﬁnal condition set forth to be a hypostasis, as Ockham noted in his discussion of the deﬁnition of hypostasis (see Section II.a.). Concerning the number of natures, it is clear that there are two natures in the above picture. Concerning the number of wills, given that CHN is like your or my concrete human nature “in all respects except for sin” (Tanner 1990, 127), it, too, will have a will, in the same way that yours does. Furthermore, in the incarnation, the divine person retains the divine will as well, yielding two wills. So I take the bare bones model to fulﬁll the ﬁrst necessary condition. The second, third, and fourth necessary conditions are all concerning Christ’s human nature. They require that the CHN be the same type of thing as your or my concrete human nature, that it have a body and soul, and that the soul be the same type of thing as your or my soul. None of those three conditions are ﬂouted on this bare bones model, in no small part because we haven’t said anything substantive and committal about the metaphysics of human persons, or, we haven’t said anything substantive and committal aside from the afﬁrmation that it meets these conditions. The last two necessary conditions, the ﬁfth and sixth, are concerning the hypostatic union. I have not analyzed the union here, and so the ﬁfth condition is satisﬁed. And I have not diminished or lessened either nature in the union, so the sixth is satisﬁed. CHN is the very same sort of thing as your concrete human nature is. The difference between them is a difference with respect to hypostases (yours has a separate hypostasis, Christ’s does not), and that difference is due to something external, that is, to CHN’s being sustained by another, whereas yours is not. How do I know that my human nature is not sustained by God as CHN is? Is there some internal, phenomenological mark of being so sustained? If not, whence my conﬁdence that I, or any other human I know, am a hypostasis? Answer: at least speaking for myself, I can sin and have sinful inclinations. But no divine person can sin. And so my human nature is not being sustained by a divine person in the same way as CHN was. For, were a divine person sustaining my concrete human nature, it would be impeccable. And while I think quite highly of myself, inordinately so (which itself is further evidence of this concrete nature not being assumed), I don’t think that highly of myself.

V . C ON C L U S I O N This concludes the bare bones model of the theory. It has little substantive content, and this intentionally so. For in it I am attempting to provide a schema into which others can import their ontological theories of human beings and property-role fulﬁllers. In the next chapter I will put ﬂesh on these bones and present the theory I will assume in the following chapters when discussing the incarnation, whenever an ontological story is required.

3 The Theory Enﬂeshed I . I N T R O D U C TI ON In this chapter I will ﬂesh out the Bare Bones Model presented in Chapter 2 (Section IV). I will present a hylomorphic theory of reality (Section II.), and a theory of the dependence of truth on reality (Section III), explicated both in terms of essential predications (Section III.a.) and accidental predications (Section III. b.). Then I will apply the content of Sections I–III to the incarnation (Section IV). I do not claim the forthcoming metaphysics to be required for a viable theory of the incarnation. What I take to be required for a viable theory was presented in the previous chapter. In this chapter I present the metaphysical apparatus I will use when examining the philosophical consistency of Conciliar Christology. I will not argue that the metaphysics employed in the model is how the world is. My hope is that those who disagree with the metaphysical ﬂesh of the model I employ can provide their own that is graftable to the necessary skeleton presented in the previous two chapters, that is, the teachings of Conciliar Christology and the minimal metaphysical requirements of the theory. The ﬂesh I will provide comes from the traditional metaphysics employed by many Christian theologians and philosophers. It is broadly scholastic, and slightly less broadly, Thomistic.

I I . HY L O M O R P H I S M I will assume hylomorphism about material reality, such that the (concrete) nature of a material being is composed of some matter in which the substantial form inheres, and which is conﬁgured by the substantial form. For instance, on this view, Kathryn is composed of a substantial form (i.e. a soul) and matter. On the metaphysical story I am telling, accidents inhere in hylomorphic compounds of matter and form.1 And, at least in some cases, it is in virtue of the inherence of an accident in a hylomorphic compound that a thing is aptly characterized by a predicate. For instance, it is because an accident of courage

1

This is not all they inhere in, though. They can also inhere in subsisting things that lack matter, such as separated souls and angels. And I leave it an open possibility that some accidents do not inhere in anything. In fact, the deﬁnition of “hypostasis” provided in Chapter 2, Section II.a. was tailored to allow precisely this possibility.

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inheres in the hylomorphic compound that composes Kathryn that it is true to say “Kathryn is courageous.” Kathryn is aptly characterized by the predicate “courageous” in virtue of that inhering courage accident.2 Continuing the use of the pictorial representations I presented in the previous chapter, the ontological story looks like Figure 3.1 (which is the same as Figure 2.5 in Chapter 2).

Soul Kathryn

Courage

Matter-1

Figure 3.1. A representation of property having

Here the top half of the circle represents Kathryn’s soul, and the bottom half represents the matter in which the soul inheres. The pin represents the accident, and the whole circle represents the substance in which the accident inheres.

III. TRUTHMAKING Continuing with the apparatus, but now focusing on the dependence of truth on reality, I will assume that truth depends on reality, at least in some cases, by those truths having a necessitating truthmaker or truthmakers.3 According to Orthodox Truthmaker Theory, truthmakers must necessitate the truth of the propositions they make true. One can understand truthmaker necessitation in the following way: Truthmaker Necessitation: If an object, T, is a truthmaker for a proposition, p, then it is impossible for both T and p to exist, and p to be not true.4 If Leo the Great is a truthmaker for the proposition, that Leo the Great exists, then, whenever Leo the Great exists and the proposition, that Leo the Great exists, exists, that proposition is true.5 As I will be using the theory of truthmaking here, Truthmaker Necessitation is a necessary, but not sufﬁcient, condition for truthmaker theory.6 2

But see Pawl (2012b) for a eucharistic worry about this claim. Though in what follows, I will speak in the singular rather than plural; for instance, I might call Kathryn and her courage accident the truthmaker, even if these are two things, and might more aptly be referred to as the truthmakers. 4 I intentionally leave open whether something non-present can exist. If there are non-present things, and if anything that exists at any time exists simpliciter, then it is impossible for p to be false at a world where T exists. If not, if, say, presentism is true, then it is impossible for p to exist and T to exist in a world at a time and for p to be false at that time. 5 If truthbearers exist necessarily, then the part of the antecedent of Truthmaker Necessitation that states that p exists is unnecessary. Being necessary, it is trivially true that any time at which T exists is a time when the necessary proposition exists as well (Merricks 2009, 10–11). Here and throughout this book I use italicized “that” clauses as names of propositions. 6 Another claim commonly asserted as part of truthmaker theories is Truthmaker Maximalism, the view that every truth requires a truthmaker. I have argued that such a view is inconsistent with traditional Christian theism, and western monotheisms more broadly (Pawl 2012a), and also that it 3

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Though I will not argue for or assume a theory of divine simplicity in this book, I would like the proffered Christology to be consistent with standard understandings of divine simplicity, including the Thomistic understanding.7 In order to give a theory of truthmaking for predications that is consistent with that conception of divine simplicity, one needs to provide an account on which it is false that every true predication requires something playing the property role to be had by the subject. For if every true predication required some property-role fulﬁller to be had by something, then the proposition, that God is omnipotent, would require some property-role fulﬁller to be had by God. But were God to have a propertyrole fulﬁller, he would not be simple, in any traditional sense of the term. And so, were simplicity true, at least some predications would not require composites of subjects and property-role fulﬁllers for their truth conditions. This is a claim about particular predications, and not predication types. “Kathryn is wise” might well require ontological complexity for its truth conditions, since, though she is wise, being wise is not essential to her. “God is wise,” on the other hand, might not require anything other than the divine nature as its truth conditions. Here I am not assuming the truth of divine simplicity. Rather, I am intentionally leaving room for it in the theory I provide.

III.a. Truthmakers for Essential Predications On the view I present here, the truthmaker for an essential predication is a concrete nature of the subject (one could say “the” concrete nature, were there no atypical cases). Since the subject of the predication is most often a concrete nature, I will sometimes refer to the truthmaker for essential predications as the subject of the predication. So, for instance, “Kathryn is human” is made true by Kathryn’s concrete nature. Likewise, the truthmaker for “Kathryn is an animal,” since it is an essential predication, is the subject of the predication itself: Kathryn. We can represent the truthmaker for the claim as in Figure 3.2. Soul Kathryn Matter-1

Figure 3.2. A truthmaker for an essential predication

That is, the truthmaker for the essential predication is Kathryn, who is constituted by the hylomorphic compound of matter and form represented here. The truths “God is omnipotent,” “God is omniscient,” and “God is necessary” are each made true by one and the same thing—God alone. We can represent the

is inconsistent with the possibility of reality gaining being without losing other beings, or losing being without gaining other beings (Pawl 2014b). 7 For careful discussions of the Thomistic view of divine simplicity, see Dolezal (2011); Leftow (2009a); Stump and Kretzmann (1985); and Stump (2005, chap. 3; 2011).

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Figure 3.3. A representation of the divine nature

truthmaker for these claims as in Figure 3.3 (which is the same as Figure 2.6 in Chapter 2). If one denies divine simplicity, then one can give the same story for essential predications that I go on now to give for accidental predications. (Though one will probably want to change the name of the form from “accidental,” to something else, since not all predications that the forms are posited for will be accidental predications.)

III.b. Truthmakers for Accidental Predications The truthmakers for accidental predications are their subjects plus something else. For instance, as stated in Section II, the truthmaker for some truths, such as “Kathryn is courageous,” will include an accidental form, her inhering courage accident, on the metaphysics that I am assuming here. Other ontologies will posit other things for the truthmaker. On the ontology I will be assuming, the pin in Figure 3.1 will represent an accidental form. Accidental predications about Kathryn that relate her to other entities may not require an inherent thing in Kathryn, or might require more than an inherent thing. For instance, the claim “Kathryn is being thought about by John” requires more than Kathryn, and more than Kathryn plus an accidental form inhering in her. One might wonder whether this disjunctive account of truthmakers for predications is really as traditional as I claim my theory to be in the introduction of this chapter. I believe that it is. The theory of truthmakers for essential and accidental predications just presented is consonant with the thought of St Thomas. He writes: When I say Socrates is a man, the truth of this statement is caused by the composition of the human form with the individual matter by which Socrates is this man. And when I say the man is white, the cause of this truth is the composition of whiteness with the subject. And it is similar in other cases.8

The claim here is that an essential predication of Socrates—that he is a man—is caused to be true (i.e. made true) by the individual body-soul composite by which Socrates is this man. That is, it is made true by the hylomorphic compound of body-soul. And the accidental predication—that Socrates is white—is made true by the subject (i.e. the hylomorphic compound) with the inhering whiteness accident. And similarly, he says, for other cases.9

8 Aquinas’s Commentary on Aristotle’s Metaphysics, lib. 9 l. 11 n. 4. This is my translation of the Latin available at . 9 For more on Aquinas’s view of the truthmakers for predications, see Gloria Frost’s (2010) “Thomas Aquinas on the perpetual truth of essential propositions” and chapter 3, section 2 of my dissertation (Pawl 2008).

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In the atypical case of the incarnation, the story works in a similar way. Consider the representation of Christ I gave in Chapter 2 (Figure 2.7), this time updated with four accidents inhering in his concrete human nature added, as in Figure 3.4. Humility Cruciformity Sorrow Weariness Soul CHN Matter-3

Jesus Christ

Figure 3.4. A representation of the hypostatic union including accidents

At different points—and most likely, at the same time during the cruciﬁxion— Christ was aptly described as “sorrowful,” “humble,” “cruciﬁed,” and “weary.” Let each of the added pins represent an accident inhering in Christ’s human nature in virtue of which these predicates are apt of the divine person.

IV.a. The Model and Candidate Predicates Now consider candidate predicates. For example, the divine nature is impassible (see Chapter 1, Section III). For instance, Leo claims, in a Tome accepted as true by the Council of Chalcedon and the Third Council of Constantinople, that in the incarnation, “invulnerable nature was united to a nature that could suffer.” (78) And as the Chalcedonian Exposition of faith says: But there are those who are trying to ruin the proclamation of the truth, and through their private heresies they have spawned novel formulas fantastically supposing that in the confusion [of the natures of Christ] the divine nature of the Only-begotten is passible. (84)

The divine, we might think, is essentially impassible if impassible at all (Cross 2011, 464–5), and so the truthmaker for the truth “Christ is impassible” will be a nature of the subject on the view I offer here; in particular, the subject’s divine nature. So in the hypostatic union, the divine nature makes it true that “Christ is impassible” in his divine nature. But Christ is also passible. Pope Leo claims, in the same text as the quotation above, that the concrete human nature of Christ “hung, pierced with nails, on the wood of the cross” (81). In a typical case—a case in which the concrete nature is not assumed, and so fulﬁlls the conditions for being a supposit presented in Chapter 2—Bob’s human nature’s being pierced and hung from a tree is a truthmaker for the claim “Bob was pierced and hung from a tree.” And so, given Typical Dependence (see Chapter 2, Section IV.d.), it is true to say that “Christ was pierced and hung from a tree.”

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Being pierced, hung, weary, and sorrowful, though, entails being passible. And so while it is true according to Conciliar Christology that Christ is impassible in his divine nature, it will also be true that he is passible in his human nature. In fact, the Nicene Creed includes as much when it says that he suffered (in the Latin translation: passus est). So there was (and is) an existing truthmaker for “Christ is passible” (e.g. CHN, or CHN with an inhering accident, if passibility is not essential to human beings), and an existing truthmaker for “Christ is impassible” (e.g. the divine nature). Thus, both “Christ is impassible” and “Christ is passible” are true. And, in fact, we have seen Conciliar Christology explicitly say as much, even in a single sentence (see Chapter 1, Section VI). Here I will ﬂag, but not address, the legitimate worry that Conciliar Christology is inconsistent, owing to the fact that it predicates seemingly incompatible predicates of one and the same person, the God-man Jesus Christ. Later, in the following four chapters, I will address this objection in detail.

IV.b. The Model and the Communicatio Idiomatum From what I have said so far, we can give an ontological model for the communication of attributes in Christ. Oliver Crisp (2011, 63) offers a helpful explanation of that doctrine as follows (the bracketed text is in the original): Communicatio idiomatum: The attribution of the properties of each of the natures of Christ to the person of Christ, such that the theanthropic [i.e. God-Mannish] person of Christ is treated as having divine and human attributes at one and the same time, yet without predicating attributes of one nature that properly belong to the other nature in the hypostatic union, without transference of properties between the natures and without confusing or commingling the two natures of Christ or the generation of a tertium quid [third sort of thing].10

I do not claim, in my parlance, that it is properties that are attributed to the natures or person. Rather, the human nature (that hylomorphic compound) bears accidents, and in virtue of bearing those accidents, Christ (the Second Person of the Trinity) is aptly characterized by the predicates relevant to those things playing the property role, provided that a person would be so characterized were the instance of nature possession a typical instance of nature possession. However, the accidents born by the human nature do not make the divine nature to be aptly characterized by the predicates those accidents make apt of the person, nor does either nature make the other to be aptly characterized by the predicates that the other makes apt of the person of Christ.

10 Crisp discusses the Communicatio Idiomatum in much greater detail in his earlier book (Crisp 2007b, 6–18). Pohle (1913, 186) also discussed the communication of idioms. See also Herman Bavinck (2006, 308–16); Paul Gondreau (2009); and Anthony Maas (1908). Gondreau (2009, 215) provides an impressive listing of the church fathers who have endorsed and employed the communication of idioms. Martin Chemnitz (1971, sec. XII–XXVI) provides over two hundred pages of discussion where he differentiates three different ways the predicates can be communicated. (Whether all three ways are apt ways of understanding the communication of attributes is a question for another time.)

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By way of summary, here are the main assertions I make in my model: 1. Christ is one person who has two concrete natures. 2. These two natures are united in the hypostatic union. 3. The concrete natures of material objects are composites of substantial form and matter. 4. Concrete natures of material objects are the bearers of property-role fulﬁllers. 5. The property-role fulﬁllers are accidental forms. 6. The truthmakers for essential predications are the natures of the objects referred to by the subject terms in the predications. 7. The truthmakers for accidental predications are the natures of the objects referred to by the subject terms in the predications, along with other objects. 8. Typical Dependence: If some truth, t, would depend upon some things, the xs (e.g. a concrete nature; property-role fulﬁllers), were the xs in a typical case of nature possession, then t would depend upon the xs were the xs in an atypical case of nature possession. I take these theses to be consistent with many traditional metaphysics. For instance, so far as I know, none of them are contrary to the teachings of St Thomas. I now consider some objections to my model.

VI. O B JECTI ONS TO T H E M O DEL In this section I will consider four objections to the content of this chapter.

Objection 1: The Objection from Property Borrowing A ﬁrst objection one might consider here is an objection that other composite Christologies face: what principled account and metaphysical model can one give for when predications spread from the component parts (or “quasi-parts”) to the whole? This is a question Thomas Senor (2007) asks of two recent Thomistic interpretations of the incarnation: those of Brian Leftow (2004) and Eleonore Stump (2004).11 Senor (2007, 64) charges that Stump’s account of property borrowing entails that she must say that all properties of parts are borrowed by wholes to some degree or another. He derives from this that, since he has an amoeba-shaped, transparent part, he too, in some way, must be amoeba-shaped and transparent.

11 For another mereological model, see Freddoso (1983). Leftow (2011) responds to Senor’s objections.

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But he is not in any way, to any degree, transparent or amoeba-shaped. And so he claims that Stump’s account of property borrowing fails. Leftow (2004, 290–1) says that there is no good general principle to be had for when wholes borrow properties from their parts; we need, he says, to ﬁgure it out case by case. Senor (2011, 97–8) agrees that there is no good universal account to give about when properties are borrowed. It would seem that composite models of the incarnation have a problem here. Stump (2004, 213) and Leftow (2004, 288–90) reason that at least some of the allegedly inconsistent predications are true of Christ in virtue of a part of Christ having the very same predication true of it. But I do not reason that way. My own view, unlike Leftow’s (2004, 288–90) and Stump’s (2004, 212), is not mereological in nature. Instead, I offer what I have called Typical Dependence. That is, instead of reasoning from properties of parts to properties of wholes, I reason from dependence work done in typical cases to dependence work done in atypical cases. In a typical case, having an amoeba-shaped part is insufﬁcient for being aptly predicated by “amoeba-shaped,” and so in the atypical case of Christ it is likewise insufﬁcient. In a typical case, having a bleeding hand is sufﬁcient for being aptly predicated by “(is) bleeding,” and so likewise in the case of Christ. Here we have a general principle (number 8 above in the summary of my view); we need not go through a case-by-case analysis. As for what is required for true predications in typical cases, I offer no account. Everybody, and not just the composite Christologist, is in need of a typical account. Once a typical account is given, one can apply it to Christ through Typical Dependence. So this objection misses the mark; my theory does not employ the same analysis of how the predicates are communicated, and so does not have the same liabilities as the other composite models under discussion.

Objection 2: The Objection from the Relation between Persons and Natures A second objection comes from consideration of persons and natures.12 What is the relation between a concrete human nature and a human person? Suppose that my concrete human nature—this body-soul composite—were to be lifted up. Are there two things, the nature, and then, in addition, the person, being lifted up? Here you are, reading. Are there two things reading, both the concrete human nature, and then, in addition, the person? Suppose Bob chooses to go to the store. How many choosers are there? Does Bob choose by use of his body-soul composite, and does the body-soul composite choose, too? Isn’t this too many things lifted, thinking, and choosing? Suppose we say that there is but one thing lifted, thinking, and choosing. Perhaps we could say that, at least in the standard, mundane cases, the human nature is identical to the human person. In such a case, the nature thinks, as does

12 See here the work of J. P. Arendzen (1941, 151–6); William Lane Craig (2006); Richard Cross (1989; 1996b); Thomas Flint (2012); and Alfred Freddoso (1983; 1986).

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the person. But since the nature just is the person—since “they” are identical— there is no worry of too many thinkers. This answer is not entirely satisfactory, though. For, suppose that it is true that the nature is identical with the person in the mundane case, say, the case of Renaldo. Identity is necessary, so in any world in which Renaldo’s nature exists, it is identical to a person, and that person is Renaldo (though, of course, it might have a different name in other worlds). Now consider the human nature of Christ. Suppose that nature could exist unassumed. Then, in a world where CHN is not assumed, it would fulﬁll the conditions laid out in the previous chapter for being a hypostasis (see Section II.a.). And since it is a hypostasis that is rational, it would fulﬁll the conditions for being identical with a person, assuming, as we are here for the sake of argument, that the nature is identical with the person. That person would not be the Second Person of the Trinity. Call that person “Waldo.” But identity is necessary. So in any world in which that nature exists, it is identical to a person, and that person is Waldo (though, of course, it might have a different name in other worlds). So in this world, Waldo exists. But then there are two persons in the hypostatic union: Waldo and Christ. We have seen, though, that there are not two persons in the hypostatic union according to Conciliar Christology. So the Conciliar Christologist cannot afﬁrm that human persons are identical to human natures, that it is possible that some assumable nature exist unassumed, and that identity is necessary. Supposing for the moment that it is possible for some assumable nature to exist unassumed, human persons are not identical with human natures in mundane cases. But then are we stuck with at least two thinkers when I think, and at least two willers when I will: both the person and the nature? That seems excessive. What to do? I think Thomas Flint states the right response well. He writes: What am I? I am an individual human nature—a body/soul composite, we have been supposing. Those are the parts that I have; they’re what make me what I am. Am I a person? That depends. Depends upon what? It depends upon how I’m related to something distinct from me; it depends upon whether or not I’ve been assumed by a divine person. (Flint 2012, 204)

Flint is a nature, and that nature is contingently a person. That nature is a person when it fulﬁlls the conditions for being a person, one of which is not-beingassumed. Similarly for other instances of contingent predications; one might say that a nature is a coward when it fulﬁlls the conditions for being a coward, one of which is not-being-courageous. Do we have a problem of too many battle-ﬂeers? For there is the nature ﬂeeing battle, and then there is the coward doing likewise, and that’s one too many things dropping their shields. The right answer in this case seems to be that there are not too many things. The nature is a coward when it fulﬁlls the conditions for being one. And so we can count that one owner of the back fading distantly into the horizon under two descriptions: “coward:” “nature.” One thing, the concrete nature, can be counted in many ways, by many predicates, depending upon whether it fulﬁlls the conditions for those predicates being apt of it. That one unassumed nature—I do not mean Flint here!—is a man,

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a nature, and a coward. It fulﬁlls the conditions to be all three. In that sense it is one thing answering to all three names, and so there is a sense to be given to the claim that “the coward is the same thing as the man.” But in another sense this claim is false, since “the man” names the body-soul composite, whereas “the coward” names that body-soul composite along with whatever else it is on which true predications of cowardliness depend; for instance, on one view, an inhering cowardice accident.13 The claim that the nature is the person when it fulﬁlls a certain condition is common in the theological tradition. Stephen Hipp (2001, 475) writes: Unanimously to this point [through the thirteenth century], personality has been perceived as rooted in an incommunicable property by which the person is itself (the nature rendered) incommunicable or individual in the fullest sense of the term (a sense which necessarily entails incommunicability)” . . . Person and nature as such are distinguished only according to the possession or lack of such a proprietas, respectively; but there are no grounds for afﬁrming any real distinction between person and the nature with its proprietas.

In addition, Hipp (2001, 471–2) says of the Cappadocians, Brieﬂy, the basic element which differentiates nature from person, and which renders the former the latter, is the particular property of a thing. As we saw in our survey of Cappadocian theology, Basil, Gregory of Nazianzus and Gregory of Nyssa alike, all deﬁne hypostasis as the concrete reality standing beneath the common nature in virtue of the latter’s reception of deﬁnite particularities. Person, or hypostasis, then, is the distinct and particular thing in contrast to universal nature; it is also that which subsists . . . The result of these explanations is a wholly physical understanding (and deﬁnition) of personhood; person is not distinguished from the concrete individualized nature.

According to Hipp, through the thirteenth century, persons are seen as natures along with a certain property of incommunability. This is similar to the analysis of a coward as a nature with an inhering cowardice accident. Just as there are not too many things ﬂeeing the battle—the man and the coward—there are not too many things thinking—the nature and the person. Richard Cross (2005, 6) says something similar about the historical view of the relation between a person and a nature: Put very bluntly, my claim is that the medievals tended to see Christ’s human nature as an individual in the genus of substance: and thus that the way they distinguish person from nature will be such that—put crudely—persons are just natures of a particular kind.

The idea here is that a person is a nature of a certain kind. Similarly, one might say, a coward is a nature of a certain kind. The kind in the coward case is withan-inhering-cowardice-disposition. The kind in the person case might be with-an-inhering-incommunability-accident. Or it might be something else, a few examples of which I discuss at the end of the following objection.

13

I thank Tom Flint for helpful conversation about these matters.

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Objection 3: The Objection from the Lack of a Truthmaker for Supposit Truths A third objection stems from considering the truthmaking work done in typical cases of nature possession. Consider Kathryn’s concrete human nature. It is not assumed. And so it fulﬁlls the conditions for being a supposit. One might well ask: what is it in reality, in virtue of which it is true that “Kathryn is a supposit”? In virtue of what is it true that “Kathryn’s nature is a supposit?” Does either predication have a truthmaker? What could it be? Nothing in the theory so spelled out requires “Kathryn is a supposit” or “Kathryn’s nature is a supposit” to have a truthmaker. One answer, then, is that, contrary to the view Hipp claims is unanimous through the thirteenth century, there is no truthmaker for the claim. Rather, one could point out that it is true that Kathryn is a supposit because she fails to be assumed. That failing to be assumed is not a thing, just like her failing to be the President of the United States is not a thing. Thus, the predication in question is true, not because something exists, but because something does not exist. Whatever dependence story one gives for denials of predications (e.g. it is not the case that Bob is standing) one should give in this case as well (i.e. it is not the case that Kathryn is assumed). Another response is to concede that the predications require truthmakers, and then posit something in reality to ﬁll that role. Perhaps there is an accident one has when one is not assumed, an unassumption accident. In that case, it is Kathryn’s nature with an inhering unassumption accident that is the truthmaker for the predication. Necessarily, were Kathryn assumed, she could not have an unassumption accident. In such a case, the truthmaker for “Kathryn is a supposit” or “Kathryn’s nature is a supposit” or “Kathryn is a person” or “Kathryn’s nature is a person” would not be the human nature alone. It would be the human nature, along with the extra bit of reality posited to make the predication true. One might worry that claiming that the truthmaker for “Kathryn’s nature is a person” is the nature plus something else runs afoul to the claim I made earlier that essential predications are made true by the (a) nature of the subject of the predication (see Section III.a.). For here I am claiming the truthmaker to be the nature plus something else, at least on the view that there must be a truthmaker for the claim “Kathryn’s nature is a person.” In response, I note that her nature is not essentially a person on this view. This is because Conciliar Christology requires that a human nature can exist without being a person, as Christ’s human nature does. And so it is not of the essence of things of that type (i.e. concrete human natures) to be a person. The medievals are divided on the question of whether something is required in reality for these predications to be true, and this divide might well be due to differences between the schools concerning the answer to the question of whether truthmakers are required for denials of predications. As Charles Dubray (1911) writes: The Human Nature in Christ is complete and perfect as nature, yet it lacks that which would make it a person, whether this be something negative, as Scotists hold, namely the mere fact that a nature is not assumed by a higher person, or, as Thomists assert, some positive reality distinct from nature and making it incommunicable.

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Consider these two views in sequence. By “something negative” Dubray does not mean to signal that Scotists accept the existence of real absences or lacks. Instead, he means to claim that the Scotists believe that CHN does not fulﬁll the conditions for being a person, and for that reason (and that reason only), it is true that CHN is not a person. Garrett Deweese (2007, 128) denies this claim; he writes: Duns Scotus, that “subtle doctor,” explained this lack in terms of a “twofold negation,” which seems to commit him to an ontology that includes negative properties—a controversial position which ﬁnds very little sympathy among contemporary ontologists.

Deweese’s exegesis is the minority report on this point. As Stephen Hipp (2001, 482–4) spells out the Scotistic theory: For Scotus (1265–1308), personality is conceived as a negative modality of the substance by which every form of communicability to another hypostasis is excluded (the requirements for personhood involve a twofold negation: both the denial of actual dependency upon—in the sense of substantial composition with—another reality; as well as the denial of any aptitudinal dependency). A singular and complete rational nature, therefore, is a person by reason of the fact that it is not assumed into the hypostatic unity of another. Because Christ’s humanity has been assumed by the person of the Word, it is not a person, even though it possesses every perfection which would constitute a person were there no union. If the human nature were separated from the Word, without acquiring any positive entity, it would thereby constitute a person of its own.14

Scotists deny the need for some extra ontological bit in order for a concrete human nature to be (or become, or constitute, or . . .) a human person. Thomists, on the other hand, afﬁrm that there must be some additional ontological bit in virtue of which a human nature is a person. Some Thomists put forward created esse as that which CHN would have, were it not assumed into the person of the Word, and which would make it a supposit.15 Hipp claims that Capreolus (1388–1444) and Cajetan (1469–1534) both require the addition of something in reality to a nature to yield a person. Capreolus claims that the nature must have its own act of existence in order to be a person (Hipp 2001, 485–6). Cajetan claims that the nature requires an additional substantial mode of existence in order to be a person (Hipp 2001, 487–8). Whether the addition required to yield a person is uncreated esse, an act of existence, or a substantial mode of existence, though, the three views share something in common: according to them, some additional ontological bit is required for a nature to fulﬁll the conditions for being a person. I do not wish to wade into the exegetical waters at this point to determine whether this distinction between the allegedly Thomist and Scotist views is apt here. But I do ﬁnd it curious that one can ﬁnd texts where Aquinas seems to

14 Hipp’s whole discussion of the various historical perspectives on what is required for personhood, if anything, in addition to the nature fulﬁlling the twofold negation, is very interesting. See his III.1. (Hipp 2001, 471–518) for this discussion. 15 On the esse of Christ, see Salas (2006) and Weinandy (2004, 79–83).

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commit himself to the negation view that Dubray and Hipp attribute to Scotus. Aquinas, for instance, writes: As long as the human nature is united to the Word of God, it does not have its own suppositum or hypostasis beyond the person of the Word, because it does not exist in itself. But if it were separated from the Word, it would have, not only its own hypostasis or suppositum, but also its own person; because it would now exist per se. Just as also a part of a composite body, as long as it is undivided from the whole, is [i.e. exists per se] only potentially, not actually; but this is only brought about by separation.16

Here Aquinas claims that the nature itself, if only separated from the Word would be a hypostasis, and its own person. And the reason why it would be a person is not due to some added ontological bit, but because it would then exist per se. Now, it might be that Aquinas would deny the possibility of such a separation. But the metaphysical point he is making remains: CHN has all the ontological bits it requires to count as a person, even when assumed, when it is not, in fact, a person. Its not being a person is not due to its lacking some ontological part, but rather due to its not existing per se, since it is subsumed into a larger whole. For my own part, I am happy to remain non-committal on whether or not something additional, ontologically speaking, is required for a concrete human nature to be a person. I do not see anything in the ﬁrst seven ecumenical councils requiring one to answer either way. As such, I will speak of a human nature’s “fulﬁlling the conditions for being a person,” and leave it intentionally ambiguous as to whether those conditions require, as the Scotists think, merely fulﬁlling two negative conditions, or whether they require, as the Thomists think, some addition in reality of some type or other. In summary, then, one might respond to this objection with a proof by cases. Either the predications discussed in this section (“Kathryn is a supposit;” “Kathryn’s nature is a supposit”) require truthmakers or they do not. If they do not require truthmakers—if, perhaps, they are true in virtue of satisfying the twofold negation the Scotists claim—then the lack of truthmakers for these truths is no problem for the theory. If they do require truthmakers, then the theorist can, following Capreolus and Cajetan, posit something in reality which CHN is lacking, but which Kathryn’s human nature has, that, together with the nature, is the truthmaker for the predications in question.

Objection 4: The Objection from Essential Predications and the Possibility of Christ’s Human Nature not Being Assumed I have said that the truthmaker for essential predications is a nature of the subject of the predication. But this seems false, for it at least seems possible that an unassumed nature could have been assumed. So consider the case of Kathryn and the essential predication, “Kathryn is human.” In the case where Kathryn’s human nature is assumed, the relevant nature still exists, and so, given truthmaker necessitation, it would still be true that “Kathryn is human.” But there is 16

Aquinas 1953, a.2, ad.10.

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no Kathryn in such a scenario for that predication to be true of, given that “Kathryn” names a person, that persons are supposita, and that no supposit is assumed. And so we have reached a contradiction: it is not the case that Kathryn is human (since she doesn’t exist, and something must exist to be human) and yet it is true that Kathryn is human (since a truthmaker that necessitates that truth exists). In response, I answer with a proof by cases. Either at least one human nature is assumable other than CHN, or just CHN is assumable.17 If just CHN is assumable, then Kathryn’s nature is not assumable.18 And so there is no case in which that nature is assumed, contrary to the initial supposition of this objection. On the other hand, if some other nature is assumable, then I see two possible responses. First, one could concede this objection; the truthmaker for “Kathryn is human” is not the hylomorphic compound alone. Instead, it might be that nature, along with whatever ontological story one tells for a nature’s not being assumed, such as an unassumption accident or created esse. Here I refer the reader to the discussion at the end of the previous objection about these extra ontological bits. Second, one could say that the hylomorphic compound alone is the thing named “Kathryn.” In that case, Kathryn is essentially a human, even in worlds where it (she?) isn’t a person. In this second case, one would deny the premise of the objection that states that it is false that Kathryn is human; Kathryn—that is, the concrete nature—is human, even when assumed, and so not a person.

VII. CONCLUSION In this chapter, I provide a metaphysical model of the incarnation that I think is both consistent with Conciliar Christology and employs a metaphysical apparatus that is consonant with the views of many of the thinkers in the Christian intellectual tradition. I then answered objections to that model. In my answers, I was intentionally non-committal on two questions. First, do the truth conditions for a rational nature’s being a person require merely fulﬁlling negative conditions (e.g. not being assumed), or do they require some additional ontological component (where ontological component is understood as widely as possible, to include esse, modes, or anything else)? Second, is it possible for other concrete natures that are not assumed to be assumed? In the future, I will write of the “truth conditions” for a nature’s being (or constituting) a person, and not specify whether or not those conditions include additional ontological components. In the following chapters, I will draw from this metaphysical model in answering philosophical objections to Conciliar Christology. I will begin with what I take to be the most difﬁcult philosophical objection to the doctrine: the objection that,

17 18

For more on whether multiple incarnations are possible, see Pawl (2014e, 2015a). Alfred Freddoso (1986) argues that it is false that each concrete human nature is assumable.

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because of the two natures and the Communicatio Idiomatum, incompatible predicates are apt of one and the same thing, the person Jesus Christ, at the same time. But that is impossible, and so Conciliar Christology is false.19

19 I thank W. Matthews Grant, Kevin Timpe, the Notre Dame Center for Philosophy of Religion Discussion Group, and the participants of the Hylemorphicism workshop hosted by Patrick Toner at Wake Forest University in Summer 2013 for helpful discussion of this chapter.

Part II The Fundamental Problem

4 The Fundamental Problem I . I N T RO D U C T I O N In the previous chapters I presented what I take to be the Christology taught in the ﬁrst seven ecumenical councils and a metaphysical model that I will be using when discussing the forthcoming objections to Conciliar Christology. In this chapter, at the outset of Part II of this book, I raise the main philosophical objection to Conciliar Christology.1 After presenting the problem, I turn to discussing and rejecting some unsatisfactory responses. In the following three chapters, I discuss different ways one might respond to this argument. The objection can be put brieﬂy as follows: Anything with two natures, one divine, and one human, will have some predicates aptly said of it in virtue of one of those natures, but others apt of it in virtue of the other nature. Some of these predicates will be inconsistent with one another. And so anything with both a divine and a human nature will have inconsistent predicates true of it. No one thing, however, can have inconsistent predicates true of it. Consequently, nothing can have both a divine and a human nature. Thus, Conciliar Christology, since it entails that Christ has both a divine and human nature, is false. In the following section I will present this argument in more detail.

II. THE ARGUMENT IN DETAIL In this section I present some examples of the argument from the philosophical literature (Section II.a.), I then deﬁne the terms I will employ in my presentation of the argument (Section II.b.), and ﬁnally present the argument in deductive form (Section II.c.).

II.a. The Argument in the Literature The possession of two different natures is problematic. Richard Cross (2011, 453) states the main philosophical difﬁculty of Christology as follows:

1

For a summary of the work of Part II see Pawl (2015b).

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[T]he fundamental philosophical problem speciﬁc to the doctrine is this: how is it that one and the same thing could be both divine (and thus, on the face of it, necessary, and necessarily omniscient, omnipotent, eternal, immutable, impassible, and impeccable) and human (and thus, on the face of it, have the complements of all these properties)?

Call this problem “the Fundamental Problem,” or just “the Problem” for short. Others present this or similar problems. Aquinas, for instance, discusses an objection in a similar vein. He has an objector argue (In 3 Sent. D.6, q. 2, a. 1 obj 5): Further, Christ is something passible and something impassible. But a passible thing is not an impassible thing. Therefore Christ is something and something [else]. Therefore, Christ is not one thing.2

Thomas Morris (2009, 213) writes, in a long but clear passage: [T]he central philosophical problem here is not difﬁcult to discern. In the JudeoChristian vision of reality, no beings could be more different from each other than God the creator of all and any kind of creature. And even granting the Imago Dei, the doctrine that human beings are created in the image of God, humanity and divinity can certainly seem to be so different as to render it metaphysically and even logically impossible for any single individual to be both human and divine, truly God and truly man. God is omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, eternal, ontologically independent, and absolutely perfect. We human beings, of course, have none of these properties. And this surely seems to be no accident. Could I possibly have been a greatest possible being? Could you have been uncreated, eternally existent, and omnipresent in all of creation? Surely the logical complements, or opposites, of these divine properties are essential to you and to me. We could not exist without certain sorts of metaphysical limitations and dependencies—limitations and dependencies which are necessarily alien to the divine form of existence as it is conceived in Jewish and Christian theology. From this, critics of Chalcedon have concluded that there are properties necessary for being divine that no human being could possibly have, and properties essential for being human that no divine being could possibly have. The dramatic story told by Chalcedon is then viewed as a metaphysical impossibility.3

The Problem has also been discussed by countless other authors.4 2

Available at (accessed April 4, 2014). Morris has done about as much as anyone has to analyze the logic of the incarnation in his book, The Logic of God Incarnate. To see two early critical discussions of that work, see Durrant (1988) and Stump (1989). 4 For a sampling, see Marilyn Adams (2006, 121–3; 2009, 242–3); J. P. Arendzen (1941, 279–82); Alan Bäck (1998, 84); T. W. Bartel (1995, 155); Don Cupitt (1977, 136); Stephen Davis (2006, 116); Samuel Dawson (2004, 161–2); C. Stephen Evans (2006a, 13); Ronald Feenstra (2006, 142–4); Francis Ferrier (1962, 99); Norman Geisler and William Watkins (1985); Michael Gorman (2000a); Francis Joseph Hall (1898, chap. 3, sec. 5; chap. 8); Brian Hebblethwaite (2008, 60); John Hick (1989, 415; 2006, 66–70); Jonathan Hill (2012, 3); Charles Kelly (1994); John Knox (1967, 36); Brian Leftow (2011, 316); Andrew Loke (2009, 51; 2011, 493–4); J. P. Moreland and William Lane Craig (2003, 597); Thomas Morris (1987, chap. 1; 2009); James Moulder (1986, 298–290); Wolfhart Pannenberg (1968, 296–7); T. E. Pollard (1955, 356–7); Thomas Senor (2002, 221); Alan Spence (2008, 16); Eleonore Stump (1989; 2004; 2005, chap. 14); Richard Sturch (1991, chap. 2, 12); William Vallicella (2002); Peter van Inwagen (1998, sec. 2–4); Bruce Ware (2013, 16); and Frank Weston (1914, 181). Not all agree, though. One author, Richard Holland (2012, 78), writes “what I am suggesting here is that the Incarnation is not at all paradoxical, for there is no real conﬂict between the human and divine that would create a paradox when the two are united in Christ” (original emphasis). This, to my mind, 3

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One can feel the pull of this objection to Conciliar Christology. Prior to considering the traditional doctrine of the incarnation, one is inclined to think that there are some predicates that fulﬁll the following conditions: (i) at the same time, (ii) in the same sense, (iii) they must be aptly predicated of anything possessing a divine nature, but (iv) their complements must be aptly predicated of anything possessing a human nature. For instance, some candidate predicates that seem to satisfy (i)–(iv) are the predicates relevant to the predications listed by Cross or Morris. Anything divine is (and, it seems, must be) eternal, uncreated, and omnipresent. But everything human is (and, it seems, must be) non-eternal, created, and non-omnipresent. Christ, though, has both a divine and a human nature. And so, the following predications would be true of him (by (iii)): “Christ is eternal”; “Christ is omnipresent.” And these predications would be true of him (by (iv)): “Christ is non-eternal”; “Christ is non-omnipresent.” And these predications are true of him at the same time (by (i)) and in the same way (by (ii)). But it is impossible for a predicate and its complement to be apt of the same thing at the same time in the same way. Thus, we have arrived at a contradiction.

II.b. Deﬁnitions of the Terms One can put the argument in a more explicit form. Let the term “predication” refer to statements of the form “s is F”; for instance, “Kathryn is courageous.” Let the term “predicate” refer to the term that is said of the subject of the sentence. In the previous example, the predicate is “courageous.” A predicate, F, is “apt” of a subject, s, as I shall use the term, just in case the predication “s is F” is true. Finally, the “is” in a predication is not part of the predicate. Rather, it is a third part of the predication, which I will call the “copula,” following Aristotelian logic (cf. Cross 2005, 186). Many people in this debate put the argument in terms of properties, rather than predicates. This is understandable, since the language of properties does appear in the conciliar statements, and in recent attempts to present the Chalcedonian faith.5 I do not follow them in this, as I think that it leads to confusion. In the contemporary philosophical literature, the term “property” is standardly (though not universally) used to pick out a thing in reality in virtue of which some language is apt of a thing. For instance, the term “courageous” is apt of Kathryn in virtue of her having a property, courage. There is one thing: the property—a platonic form, or a trope, or an accidental form, or . . . And then there is the other thing: the predicate—the term that is said, in this case, “courageous.” Understanding the language in this sense, speaking of properties here can lead to at least two problems. First, while the councils declare things about which utterances or expressions we should make of Christ, they do not make any claims about the theory of is far too strong. Even if, as Holland argues, the divine is not atemporal, and so Christ is not predicated by both “temporal” and “atemporal,” there are very many other apparently incompatible predicates predicated of Christ that seem paradoxical, as many of the authors cited in the previous paragraph illustrate. 5

See, for instance, Dupuis (2001, para. 671a); the example comes from O’Collins (2002, 69–70).

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properties one should hold for that in virtue of which such predications are apt of Christ. For instance, Cyril says in his third letter to Nestorius, “Therefore, in thinking rightly, we refer both the human and divine expressions to the same person” (Tanner 1990, 55) and “whatever reason should anyone have for being ashamed at the expressions uttered by him should they happen to be suitable to him as a man” (55–6). And again from the Formula of union from Ephesus, As to the evangelical and apostolic expressions about the Lord, we know that theologians treat some in common as of one person and distinguish others as of two natures, and interpret the god-beﬁtting ones in connexion with the godhead of Christ and the lowly ones with his humanity. (70)

They do not, for instance, require one to posit the existence of a property for each positive predicate ascribed of Christ. So, to use the language of properties here is already to assume some metaphysics for the sake of understanding the incarnation. Using metaphysics to understand the incarnation is useful, I think—I did precisely this in Chapters 2 and 3—but one should be careful to note the additional metaphysics being added to the conciliar claims, as I did in Chapter 3. Since the Fundamental Problem can be expressed without assuming any additional metaphysics of properties, it seems prudent to do so. Second, speaking of God’s properties can lead to difﬁculties for other dogmas. For instance, if divine simplicity is true, then there is nothing besides God himself in virtue of which certain divine predicates are apt of him. If the doctrine of divine simplicity is true, then the predications “God is omnipotent” and “God is omniscient” are true in virtue of the very same one, simple thing: God. Speaking in terms of the properties of omnipotence and omniscience, then, causes problems in other traditional theological doctrines (for more on this, see Chapter 3, Section III). Better, then, in my estimation, to put the argument in terms of predicates that are apt or inapt of Christ. Not only is this more in line with the language of the councils, it also avoids language and metaphysical assumptions that are problematic, given other traditional theological doctrines. Consider these terms and deﬁnitions:

Conciliar Christology: Incompatible Predications:

The conjunction of the teachings about the incarnation from the (ﬁrst) seven Ecumenical Councils. There are some predicates that fulﬁll the following conditions: (i) at the same time, (ii) in the same sense, (iii) they must be aptly predicated of anything possessing a divine nature, but (iv) their complements must be aptly predicated of anything possessing a human nature.6

6 Question: Why put this claim in terms of “a divine nature” rather than “the divine nature?” Answer: I do not want the thesis to presuppose the unicity of the divine nature. Conciliar Christology guarantees the unicity of the divine nature, but I do not want it smuggled into the other assumptions in the argument as well.

The Fundamental Problem A Candidate predicate: A Problematic predicate: A Candidate pair: A Problematic pair: No Complementary Predications:

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A predicate that is purportedly an instance of Incompatible Predications. A Candidate predicate that is an instance of Incompatible Predications. A pair of allegedly complementary predicates both of which are Candidate predicates (e.g. impassible and passible; immutable and mutable). A pair of complementary predicates both of which are Problematic predicates. Necessarily, for every object, x and for every predicate, Q, Q and Q’s complement cannot both be aptly predicated of x at the same time, in the same way.7

II.c. The Argument in Deductive Form Given these deﬁnitions of terms, and letting the predicate, P, be a Problematic predicate, consider this argument:

1. Suppose that the conjunction of Conciliar Christology, Incompatible Predications, and No Complementary Predications is true. 2. Christ possessed both a divine nature and a human nature. 3. P is aptly predicated of Christ. 4. The complement of P is aptly predicated of Christ. 5. P and the complement of P are both aptly predicated of Christ at the same time, and in the same way. 6. There is some object, Christ, and some predicate, P, such that both P and P’s complement are aptly predicated of him at the same time, in the same way. 7. Contradiction! 8. Thus, the conjunction of Conciliar Christology, Incompatible Predications, and No Complementary Predications is false. 9. Thus, either Conciliar Christology is false, or Incompatible Predications is false, or No Complementary Predications is false.

(For reductio.)

(From Conciliar Christology.) (From 2, Incompatible Predications (iii).) (From 2, Incompatible Predications (iv).) (2, Incompatible Predications (i) and (ii), the assumption that P is a Problematic predicate.) (From 5.)

(No Complementary Predications, 6.) (From 1–7, reductio ad absurdum.)

(From 8, De Morgans.)

7 My No Complementary Predications is inﬂuenced by and modeled after Thomas Senor’s Law of the Excluded Middle for Properties (Senor 2007, 68).

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The ﬁrst premise is merely an assumption of three claims for the sake of argument. The second premise follows from one of those three claims assumed in 1: Conciliar Christology. The next three Premises, 3–5, follow from 2 along with Incompatible Predications, a second of the claims assumed. While 5 is incompatible with No Complementary Predications, the incompatibility can be brought out more explicitly in the formation at Premise 6, which follows from Premise 5. Premise 6 states an instance, which is inconsistent with the generality of No Complementary Predications, which is the ﬁnal of the three assumed claims. And thus, as 7 says, we have derived a contradiction. The assumption we made at the beginning, then, must be false, as 8 says, for it entailed a contradiction, and all contradictions are false.8 And, given the logical form of 8—it is false that all three of these assumed claims is true—it follows that claim 9 is true—at least one of these three assumed claims is false. Thus, given this argument, either: contrary to Conciliar Christology, Christ didn’t have both a divine and a human nature; or, contrary to our initial inclinations, there are no predicates that must be aptly predicable of divine beings whose complements must be aptly predicable of human beings at the same time, in the same way; or, ﬁnally, contrary to what appears to be an obvious truth, some predicates and their complements can be aptly predicated of the same object, in the same sense, at the same time. What is a proponent of Conciliar Christology to do? Clearly, the proponent of Conciliar Christology, as a proponent of Conciliar Christology, cannot consistently reject the truth of Conciliar Christology. So, in order to avoid the contradiction at step 7, she must reject either Incompatible Predications or No Complementary Predications. But, neither of these two theses seems easy to reject.

III. DENYING NO COMPLEMENTARY PREDICATIONS I am not aware of anyone in this debate who solves the Problem by denying No Complementary Predications. And this for at least two good reasons: one stemming from a plausible premise, and another stemming from a plausible deﬁnition of what it is to be complementary. In this section I will discuss those two reasons (Sections III.a. and III.b.), then I discuss whether there is reason to think the authors intended to ascribe complementary predicates to Christ (Section III.c.).

III.a. A Plausible Inference The denial of No Complementary Predications, together with an intuitively plausible assumption, yields a contradiction. The following proposition appears true, supposing both that the terms are used at the same time and in the same way on both sides of the conditional, and that non-F is the complement of F:

8 Though see Section IV.a., where I discuss the possibility of allowing true contradictions as a response to the Problem.

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10. If “x is non-F” is true, then “it is not the case that x is F” is true.

For instance, if I am non-standing, then it is not the case that I am standing. The converse of 10—If “it is not the case that x is F” is true, then “x is non-F” is true—is false. A counterexample to the converse of 10: consider Alexander the Great’s famous, and long dead, warhorse, Bucephalus. “It is not the case that Bucephalus is sitting” is true, but “Bucephalus is non-sitting” is false, owing to the fact that Bucephalus does not exist. The consequent of the converse of 10—“x is non-F”— requires x to exist in order to be true. The antecedent—“it is not the case that x is F”—on the other hand, is true at any time at which x does not exist. And so, whenever x does not exist, the converse of 10 will have a true antecedent and a false consequent, and so it will be false. 10, on the other hand, will have a false antecedent and a true consequent, and so it will be true. I will discuss claim 10 later in Chapter 7, Section IV.a. But now suppose that No Complementary Predications is false. If No Complementary Predications is false, then there could be some object and some predicate such that the predicate and its complement could both be predicated of that object at the same time, in the same sense. Let an instance be “s is F” and “s is non-F.” Given 10, and given that “s is non-F” is true, it would follow that “it is not the case that s is F.” So it follows that “s is F” and “it is not the case that s is F” are both true. But “s is F” and “it is not the case that s is F” are contradictory propositions. And no contradictory propositions are both true.9 Thus, either No Complementary Predications is in fact true, or 10 is false. 10 seems to be on sure footing (again, supposing the terms are used in exactly the same way on both sides of the conditional), so the way to avoid this contradiction, it seems, is by afﬁrming No Complementary Predications.

III.b. The Standard Deﬁnition of Complementarity Another reason why one might grant the truth of No Complementary Predications is based on the standard deﬁnition of complementarity:10 The complement of predicate, P:

A predicate (non-P) that is apt of a thing if and only if it is not the case that P is apt of that thing.11

If this is the correct deﬁnition of complementarity, then it is clear that one thing cannot be both P and non-P. For, suppose both the truth of this deﬁnition of complementarity—let’s call it the standard deﬁnition—and the denial of No Complementary Predications. The argument now proceeds similarly to the previous argument. By the denial of No Complementary Predications, there is some thing and some complementary predicates such that both complementary predicates could be apt of that thing at the same time, in the same way. Again, I will use 9

Though see Section IV.a. for a response to the Problem that denies this last claim. Though it is standard, it is hard to ﬁnd it expressed in print. One place where something similar is said is (Govier 2009, 195–6). 11 I will discuss complementarity and contrariety in more detail in Chapter 7, especially Section III.c. 10

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“s” as the name of the object and “F” as the predicate. So both F and non-F could be apt of s. Suppose that they are both apt of s. If they are both apt of s, then it follows straightforwardly that non-F is apt of s. But then, by the standard deﬁnition, it is not the case that F is apt of s. But we have already assumed that F is apt of s. And so both F is apt of s and it is not the case that F is apt of s. This is a contradiction.12 Hence, given the truth of the standard deﬁnition, No Complementary Predications must be true. While this second reason is similar to the ﬁrst with respect to argumentative structure, it is different than the ﬁrst with respect to the assumptions it makes. The second requires one to posit a deﬁnition of complementarity, whereas the ﬁrst only requires one to concede a necessary condition for a predicate (non-F) to be apt of a subject (x). Thus, in order to deny the truth of No Complementary Predications, one must deny the truth of both 10 and the standard deﬁnition of complementarity. Even if one might be comfortable with denying or modifying 10, the standard deﬁnition has that name for a reason. One would not be avoiding the Problem by denying the standard deﬁnition; one is more changing the language to get around the Problem. The Problem remains and can be phrased differently. For the point the objector is making isn’t about the term “complementary;” it is about the logical relation that two predicates appear to stand in to one another. No matter what we call that relation, whether it is “complementarity” or something else, it appears that, for anything that is, say, impassible, it is not the case that it is simultaneously and in the same way passible. It is that apparent incompatibility of one thing being both passible and impassible (or immutable and mutable, or visible and invisible, or . . . ) that gives rise to this objection to Conciliar Christology—not anything having to do with how we deﬁne the notion of complementarity.

III.c. No Complementary Predications or No Contrary Predications One reason to think that the fathers saw themselves as ascribing complementary predicates to Christ stems from the language they employed. They were taking predicates and appending a privative preﬁx—either “in” or “im,” in the English (and often in the Latin). But that’s precisely how one would form a complement. And so one can read the language as evidence that they were attempting to form complementary predications. One objection to this reason for thinking that the fathers intended to predicate complementary predicates of Christ is to note that we sometimes form contrary predications in this way as well, and perhaps the fathers meant contrary predications. Two predicates are contraries just in case they cannot both be apt of the same thing, though they can both be inapt of that same thing.13 For instance, “tall” 12 Cross (2004, 177–8) offers similar reasoning. He offers the following deﬁnition: “By deﬁnition, if a property F is simpliciter a property of substance x, then it is not the case that x is not-F.” He argues from the acceptance of this deﬁnition to a contradiction for some of the reduplicative responses to the Problem I discuss in Chapter 6. 13 See Chapter 7, Section III.c. for more on this.

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and “short” cannot both be apt of a person in the same respect at the same time, though it could be that neither is apt of that same person if she is of middling height. Likewise for the predicates black and white, triangular and rectangular, courageous and cowardly, etc. So their language isn’t evidence that they meant complementary predicates, since they might equally well have meant contrary predicates. And if they did, we can grant No Complementary Predications, since complementary predications are irrelevant to the claims of the fathers. This objection, however, does not allay the difﬁculty underlying the Problem. Since contraries are not both apt of the same thing at the same time in the same way, reading the predicates attributed to Christ in the above quotation from Cross at the beginning of Section II.a. as contraries makes no difference to the difﬁculty for Conciliar Christology. For the objector can replace No Complementary Predications with: No Contrary Predications:

For every object, x and for every predicate, Q, and for any contrary of Q, R, Q and R cannot both be aptly predicated of x at the same time, in the same way.

Then, provided that passible and impassible, or visible and invisible, or . . . , are contraries, an argument wholly analogous to the Problem again arises. This analogous Problem will need to replace “Incompatible Predications” with “Contrary Predications,” which would read the same as Incompatible Predications, but would substitute “contraries” for “complements” in condition (iv). The conclusion of the analogous argument would be that at least one of the three assumptions— Conciliar Christology, Contrary Predications, and No Contrary Predications—is false. It is important to note that two predicates being contraries neither entails nor is entailed by those same two predicates being complements. For, to be contrary it must be possible for both predicates to be false of the thing in question. And to be complements—in the standard sense—it is impossible for both predicates to be false of the thing in question. So, rather than complementarity entailing contrariety, and vice versa, they preclude one another. And because of this, it is false to think that retreating from claiming that candidate pairs are complementary to thinking that they are contrary is simply a weakening (in the logical sense) of the claims needed to be made for reductio. That said, the part of No Complementary Predications that does the work in the Problem—that is, the claim that both of the relevant predicates cannot be true of the same one thing at the same time in the same way—is included in, or entailed by, the deﬁnitions of both complementarity and contrariety. And so, whichever way one understands the Candidate pairs—whether as complementary or as contrary—the Problem remains. Given the disjunction at 9 and the assumption of Conciliar Christology, the only way to avoid the contradiction at 7 is to deny one of No Complementary Predicates or Incompatible Predications. Given the argumentation in the previous paragraphs, it seems to me that the Conciliar Christologist ought to focus her attention on ﬁnding ways to deny Incompatible Predications. In the remainder of this chapter I will focus on three further unsatisfactory responses to the Problem.

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In Defense of Conciliar Christology I V . S O M E U N S A T I S F A C T O RY R E S PO N S E S

In this section I will discuss three unsatisfactory responses to the Problem; they are: denying the Law of Non-Contradiction (Section IV.a.), denying that the predicates in question have complements (Section IV.b.), and appealing to mystery (Section IV.c.).14

IV.a. Deny the Law of Non-Contradiction This ﬁrst response is the boldest. It grants as true all three assumptions of the Problem. It concedes all the inferences to be valid. It afﬁrms each premise of the Problem, including the contradiction at step 7. And yet it denies that the Problem is problematic for Conciliar Christology. For, on this view, there are some true contradictions. And one instance of a true contradiction is what we ﬁnd at step 7 of the Problem. Some very able philosophers defend the claim that there are some true contradictions at length.15 A book on Conciliar Christology is not the place to challenge their sophisticated argumentation. I have nothing new to add to the debate concerning the Law of Non-Contradiction. That said, the proponent of this strategy faces some serious problems. For instance, we are inclined to think that the following three inference rules are valid: 11. Conjunctive Elimination: From a conjunction, derive a conjunct (e.g. from “P and Q,” derive “P”). 12. Disjunctive Introduction: From a statement, derive a disjunction with that statement as one disjunct (e.g. from “R,” derive “R or S”). 13. Disjunctive Syllogism: From a disjunction, and a denial of all but one disjunct, derive the remaining disjunct (e.g. from “T or V,” and “not-T,” derive “V”).

For example, if you are sitting and you are reading, you can derive from that truth that you are reading. And if you are reading, then you can derive that you are either reading or dancing a jig. And ﬁnally, if either you went to the movies last night or you went to the party, and you didn’t go to the movies, then you went to the party. These three inference rules seem innocuous enough, and we are highly conﬁdent of their validity, both individually and jointly. If 7 is true, however, then from these three inference rules we can derive anything we want. For suppose 7 is true. Then 6 and No Complementary Predications are both true. But if No Complementary Predications is true, then it is not the case that 6 is true. So 6 is true and it is not the case that 6 is true. But now consider this reasoning. 14. 6 is true and it is not the case that 6 is true. 15. 6 is true (from 11, 14). 14 I thank Patricia Blanchette for helpful conversation about the ﬁrst two of these three unsatisfactory responses. 15 The lead proponent of such a view is Graham Priest (2006; 2008). For more discussion on denying the Law of Non-Contradiction, see Priest, Beall, and Armour-Garb (2007).

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16. It is not the case that 6 is true (from 11, 14). 17. 6 is true or God doesn’t exist (12, 15). 18. God doesn’t exist (13, 16, 17).

Being logically committed to the non-existence of God is a difﬁcult spot to be in for a Conciliar Christologist. There is only partial solace to be had in realizing that she is also committed to the existence of God, since she can run the same argument with “God exists” as the added disjunct in step 17. She is committed to anything at all, it turns out, if 7 is true and 11, 12, and 13 are valid inference forms. She is committed to the very thing she is trying to avoid: the falsity of Conciliar Christology. If she is still set on avoiding the falsity of Conciliar Christology, and desires to continue on with this strategy of denying the Law of Non-Contradiction, she will need to deny at least one of 11, 12, and 13. One might follow Martin Luther at this point. He writes (Luther 1971, 256), though not in reference to 11, 12, or 13 in particular, that “there are syllogisms that are valid in logic, but not in theology.” Or one might follow John Dahms, who claims that the Law of Non-Contradiction (which he calls “the law of contradiction”) is not applicable to some theological discussions. Dahms writes: We have by no means exhausted the problems of the orthodox who try to hold to the absolute infallibility of logic, but it ought to be quite clear that the doctrines of historic Christianity are not always compatible with the law of contradiction. Of course, many have convinced themselves that they have succeeded in explaining the logical compatibility of the doctrines we have discussed. But careful scrutiny always reveals that fallacious reasoning is involved . . . It is to be emphasized that we have not stated that logic is valueless, only that it is not always applicable. (Dahms 1978, 375)

For my own part, I can’t but see each of those three inference forms in 11–13 as universally valid. But if they are all valid, then the strategy of accepting the truth of a contradiction to respond to the Problem is untenable. For this strategy entails that the problem is unsolvable. We can derive this by introducing “the problem is unsolvable” as the second disjunct in 17, rather than “God doesn’t exist.” Henceforth, then, I will assume the truth of the Law of Non-Contradiction.

IV.b. Deny that Candidate Predicates Have Complements Another unsatisfactory response, to my mind, is denying that the predicates in question have complements. This response maintains the standard deﬁnition of complementarity, but denies that, in the case of Candidate pairs, there are predicates that are complementary. If it were true that the relevant predicates lacked complements, this would provide a way of showing the Problem to be unsound. If, for each pair of Candidate predicates, one did not exist, then there would be no pair of problematic predicates, one of which is apt of anything with a divine nature, the other of which is apt of anything with a human nature. And thus, Incompatible Predications would be false. Consider ﬁrst a mundane case in which it appears that a predicate does not have a complement. Consider the predicate “bald.” We know that there are some cases where it isn’t clear whether the person is aptly described as being bald. In

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such circumstances, we might say that he isn’t really bald, but it isn’t quite right to say that he is non-bald, either. We certainly wouldn’t boldly pronounce in such borderline cases either “Herald is bald” or “Herald is not bald.”16 There is vagueness in the scenario here. The term has no clearly demarcated lines for where it is apt and where it is inapt. If it is vague under which conditions a term is apt of a subject, we will not be able to form a complement of that term. Recall the standard understanding of the term, “complement”: The complement of predicate, P:

A predicate (non-P) that is apt of a thing if and only if it is not the case that P is apt of that thing.

Neither the predicate “bald” nor the predicate “non-bald,” though, is apt of Herald. But since it is not the case that the predicate, “bald,” is apt of Herald, we can derive, using the biconditional above, that “non-bald” must be apt of Herald, were there such a predicate as “non-bald”. But it is not the case that “nonbald” is apt of Herald. So, if there were a complement of “bald,” it—the predicate “non-bald”—would both be apt of Herald and it would be false that “non-bald” is apt of Herald. That is, the existence of a complement of the predicate “bald” entails a contradiction. Thus, there is no complement to the predicate “bald.” One might respond to this example by deﬁning a deﬁnite number of hairs one must have to be bald. In that case, with our stipulated deﬁnition, we could form a complement of “bald.” But if one were to stipulate her own deﬁnition of the term “bald,” she would be coining a new term. For that term, with that stipulated deﬁnition, is not the term we use in Standard English when we say, “Herald is bald.” We might gain a complement for the new-fangled term, “bald*,” but our oldie and goodie, “bald,” still remains without complement. Now, with some intuitions primed, consider some Candidate predicate, say, “omnipotent.” Anything divine is, by its very nature, omnipotent. And so the predication, “Christ is omnipotent” is true. But the predicate, “omnipotent,” is notoriously difﬁcult to deﬁne in a satisfactory manner.17 Its complement, too, then, is notoriously difﬁcult to deﬁne. And so, one might think, as in the case of the term “bald,” there might be no complement of the term “omnipotent.” But if there is no complement of “omnipotent,” then it is not aptly predicated of Christ: a term or concept must exist in order to be predicated. And if it is not aptly predicated of Christ, then we need not worry about the candidate pair of predicates “omnipotent” and “non-omnipotent.” Likewise one might argue for the other Candidate predicates: One or the other alleged predicate does not exist. And so, on this line of argumentation, Incompatible Predications is false. In any instance in which a Candidate predicate is apt of the God-man, the other member of the pair will not exist. And so either 3 or 4 will be false of Christ in every case. The Fundamental Problem is solved. 16 I think we also wouldn’t boldly pronounce, “Herald is non-bald,” but, really, who would boldly pronounce anything with the word “non-bald” in it? 17 For just a few examples of purported deﬁnitions, see the deﬁnitions of Flint and Freddoso (1983); Hoffman and Rosenkrantz (2008; 2010); Leftow (2009b); Mavrodes (1963; 1977); Pearce and Pruss (2012); Swinburne (1973); and Wierenga (1983).

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This response fails on two counts. First, it draws a faulty analogy between vague predicates and hard-to-deﬁne predicates. Second, even if that analogy were apt, such a move would not provide a response for every pair of Candidate predications. Consider these reasons in order. The analogy between vague predicates and hard-to-deﬁne predicates is faulty. Vague predicates are such that, given their lack of speciﬁc deﬁnition, there are borderline cases. But we need not think that this is true of hard-to-deﬁne predicates, or that it follows from a predicate’s being hard to deﬁne that it is vague. It might be that deﬁning some type of physical particle proves difﬁcult, but this does not show that there could be borderline cases of being that type of particle. Vagueness is merely one reason why it is difﬁcult to deﬁne terms. And, perhaps, vague terms are such that they cannot have a (well-deﬁned) complement. But this is no reason to conclude that any term that is difﬁcult to deﬁne will lack a complement. But, secondly, even if the analogy were apt, this second unsatisfactory response to the problem would still be incomplete. For, to be a complete response to the Problem it would have to rule out the existence of any pair of problematic predicates. And, to do that, it would have to show that at least one Candidate predicate for each pair of candidate predicates is not apt of Christ. But this response does not rule out the existence of one Candidate predicate for each pair of predicates. For instance, while it is difﬁcult to deﬁne “omnipotence,” not all candidate predicates are likewise difﬁcult to deﬁne. Consider the predicate “necessary.” Anything that is divine is necessary, at least according to traditional monotheism.18 But that predicate is not difﬁcult to deﬁne. Something is aptly called “necessary” just in case it is impossible for it not to be.19 The complement of “necessary” is aptly predicated of a subject just in case it is not impossible for it not to be—that is, just in case it is impossible or contingent. Similarly, other Candidate predicates admit of deﬁnition. Thus, there is at least one Candidate predicate that has a complement. And so this response to the Problem is incomplete. It still demands more work to be done. Finally, notice that if some Candidate predicates do not have complements, this does not falsify either No Complementary Predicates or Incompatible Predications. It does not falsify either because neither requires that all Candidate pairs be genuine cases of an existing pair of predicates. All that Incompatible Predications requires is at least one instance of an existing pair of Problematic predicates. And this unsatisfactory response has given no reason to think that there is not at least one existing pair of Problematic predicates. No Complementary Predications does not require any particular pair of Candidate predicates to exist. And so the non-existence of some member of a Candidate pair or other does not cause problems for it.There are Candidate pairs of which each predicate admits of a deﬁnition(e.g. “necessary” and “non-necessary”; “omniscient” and “non-omniscient”). 18

Though some, for instance, Richard Swinburne (2004, 148), deny that God is necessary. It is true that the deﬁnition of necessity has modal notions built into it (e.g. impossibility) such that one cannot escape modal notions when deﬁning it this way. But whether or not modal terms are deﬁnable without employing modal terms is irrelevant to the question of whether we can provide a nominal deﬁnition of the term “necessary” in a way that allows us to form a complement of it (cf. Plantinga 1979, 1–9). 19

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What is needed to falsify Incompatible Predications, and precisely what isn’t offered by this unsatisfactory response, is some reason to think that there are no Problematic pairs.

IV.c. Appeal to Mystery The ﬁnal unsatisfactory response to the Problem that I will discuss in this chapter is an appeal to mystery. Here I do not mean to discuss the theory of mystery of any particular ancient author. Their views of mystery are not what I am calling unsatisfactory here. Rather, the unsatisfactory thing under consideration is responding to the Problem by throwing up one’s hands and crying “mystery!” In the face of the Problem, one might well note that such things as the incarnation are mysterious, and, since mysterious, we should not worry too much if we cannot ﬁgure out how they work. John Hick offers a nice example of this sort of response from the work of Frank Weston. Hick (2006, 69) writes, referencing Weston’s (1914) The One Christ: How can the one undivided divine self be at once unlimited (in heaven) and limited (on earth)? Weston is acutely aware of the problem and does not shrink from facing it. He asks, “How can the Logos as self-limited be the subject of the passion, the agony, the desolation and death upon the cross, and yet at the same moment be the living and life-giving Son of God?” (181). His answer is splendidly honest: “No one has answered the question, no one can answer it” (181). He then, however, less admirably, joins those who take refuge in the idea of divine mystery: “They only plead the inﬁnite power of the divine love. They wisely refuse to limit the divine power by the measure of what is possible to man. And with them we may well pause; fortifying our faith by the contemplation of the Father’s love and omnipotence, in the face of the supreme mystery of redemption.” (182)

The texts from Weston are certainly edifying to read. But I share Hick’s appraisal that the response is less admirable. In this section, I will explain why I ﬁnd this sort of appeal to mystery unsatisfactory. Recall the admonishment of the Council of Trent (1982, 44–5): The faithful should particularly recall, and frequently reﬂect, that it is God who assumed human ﬂesh; that the manner in which He became man exceeds our comprehension, not to say our powers of expression; and ﬁnally, that He vouchsafed to become man in order that we men might be born again as children of God. When to these subjects they shall have given mature consideration, let them, in the humility of faith, believe and adore all the mysteries contained in this Article, and not indulge a curious inquisitiveness by investigating and scrutinizing them – an attempt scarcely ever unattended with danger.

Why isn’t the work of this chapter—indeed, this book!—a dangerous indulgence in curiosity? Why not note that the doctrine exceeds our comprehension and, in the humility of faith, turn back to adore the Lord? Or as Weston says, plead the inﬁnite power of divine love and the supreme mystery of redemption? In response, I say that ceasing to adore in order to analyze is a philosopher’s continual temptation. (I cannot be the only philosopher who ﬁnds himself in Eucharistic adoration considering the ontology of accidents and the nature of

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sacramental presence.) But indulgence of that temptation is not on display here. For here we do not have a case where investigating and scrutinizing are done at one’s own behest, for the sake of indulging in idle curiosity. In this instance, the scrutinizing is a needful thing, since the impetus comes from without, from another providing reasons why the orthodox Christology of the church is false. Mature consideration, in the light of valid arguments for the falsity of Conciliar Christology, requires philosophical analysis. Perhaps we cannot show that the incarnation occurred, or even that it is possible; but it is a good and needful, not indulgent, thing to show that the objections to it which might be stumbling blocks to others are spurious. I do not claim that all appeals to mystery are unsatisfactory. Not only are some satisfactory, some are required by Conciliar Christology. As I noted in Chapter 1 (Section V), Conciliar Christology includes the claim that the hypostatic union is incomprehensible and ineffable. As such, the exact nature of the hypostatic union will and must remain mysterious for someone who means to stay within the boundaries of Conciliar Christology. Furthermore, the conciliar texts appeal directly to mystery. Cyril says in his second letter to Nestorius that two natures are “marvelously and mysteriously” united (44). Pope Leo says, in his Tome to Flavian, concerning the fall, All this called for the realisation of a secret plan whereby the unalterable God, whose will is indistinguishable from his goodness, might bring the original realisation of his kindness towards us to completion by means of a more hidden mystery, and whereby humanity, which had been led into a state of sin by the craftiness of the devil, might be prevented from perishing contrary to the purpose of God. (79)

Likewise, the Deﬁnition of faith at Chalcedon speaks of the mystery of the economy of salvation (85), as does the Sentence against the “Three Chapters” at 2nd Constantinople (108), and anathemas 4, 5, 7, and 8 from the same council (114–18). In short, appealing to mystery is not foreign to Conciliar Christology. And yet I still ﬁnd it an unsatisfactory approach in this setting. Why? Appealing to mystery seems reasonable in cases where one is asked to give a positive account of something, and one sees that doing so might be beyond one’s intellectual abilities, but one is aware of no contradiction that results in virtue of not being able to give a positive account. For instance, the mere question, “What positive account do you have to offer for how God’s sovereignty and human freedom interact?” is a situation in which the answer, “Goodness, I don’t know; it is a mystery” is reasonable. For, in such a case, there is no obstacle to continued belief on offer. I have no positive account to offer for how cell phones interact, but it doesn’t stop me from answering mine when it rings. Merely lacking an answer to such a question is not sufﬁcient reason to deny the truth of the matter asked about (e.g. that God is sovereign, and yet humans are free). The Problem, though, is not like this case. In the Problem we have a formally valid argument from premises that seem initially plausible to the conclusion that one (or more) of three starting assumptions is false. And we have some moderately good reason to afﬁrm two of those three assumptions (i.e. Incompatible Predications and No Complementary Predicates). This isn’t a case of being asked for a positive account of something. This is being given a demonstration of the falsity of the claim in question. And here, as everywhere else in philosophy, it is

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insufﬁcient for a philosopher to throw up one’s hands in sight of a validly derived contradiction and cry mystery. For wherein would the mystery be? The argument’s form isn’t mysterious. Incompatible Predications and No Complementary Predicates are not mysterious. Conciliar Christology includes claims of mystery (e.g. about the hypostatic union), but the predications, “Christ is immutable,” and “Christ is mutable,” or “Christ is impassible,” and “Christ is passible” are not themselves, taken singularly, mysterious. An appeal to mystery in defense of a thesis makes no dialectical sense in response to a valid argument for the falsity of the thesis. This is not to say that one must have an immediate answer to any objection raised against one’s views. One might reasonably see no viable response to an objection and go on believing anyway. But what one cannot do is appeal to mystery and pretend that this is an adequate response to a valid argument. Richard Sturch, to my mind, has this exactly right: We must at no point allow ourselves the luxury of saying “Paradox” or “Mystery” where what we ought to say is “Self-contradiction!”, scrap what we have just written, and look for something else . . . We have to admit that we have come up against paradox or mystery as we proceed: but let us keep a sharp look-out for logical incoherence, and avoid it. (Sturch 1991, 68)

Similarly, on my view, one ought not to embrace contradiction as a necessary condition for loyalty to early Christianity. For instance, Vernon Grounds (1964, 6) writes: To be Biblically loyal must we postulate propositions which contain logically incompatible statements, doctrines which from the standpoint of reason are contradictory? Undeniably there are such paradoxes; and undeniably, therefore, we must formulate such propositions. We must formulate them, I am convinced, if we are to be Biblically loyal. This, in my judgment, has been done by our forebears who hammered out the historic creeds: for at bottom what are those creeds except distilled paradoxes?

And again he says (Grounds 1964, 11) of a different doctrine, but employing the same sort of solution: “And contradictory it is in the eyes of the logician, but if we are to be undeviatingly loyal to Scripture the contradiction must stand.” I disagree with Grounds on three points here. First, I disagree with the claim that we must, to be biblically loyal, assent to “such paradoxes,” when such paradoxes are understood as logically incompatible statements that are contradictory from the standpoint of reason. But secondly, I deny that the historic creeds were written by those who were intent on hammering out—understood as both forming and asserting—logically incompatible statements. Their letters are rife with reasoning which was meant to show that their opponents had an inconsistency in something they said. St Athanasius could be the patron saint of Modus Tollens, judging by his Orations against the Arians.20 If he took himself as a deacon at Nicaea to be hammering out a Christology built upon logical contradictions, as Grounds would have us believe, what right has he to chide the Arians 20 See Khaled Anatolios (2004) for a recent translation of these orations, which read as if St Athanasius never tired of arguing as follows: If the Arians are right in their Christology, then this scriptural passage means X. But it doesn’t mean X! So the Arians are wrong.

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for their own logical contradictions? Finally, as a third point, I disagree, for reasons mentioned in this section, that this is a dialectically useful response to the philosophical or logical objections to Christology.

V . TH E S H A P E O F T H I N G S T O C O M E In this ﬁnal section of Chapter 4, I will present the solutions to the Fundamental Problem that I will discuss in the next three chapters. Recall that I have called pairs of predicates that appear to satisfy Incompatible Predications Candidate pairs, and those that actually satisfy (i)–(iv), if there are such pairs, Problematic pairs. For instance, consider the predicates, each apt of Christ in virtue of one or the other of his natures, according to Conciliar Christology. Call the left and right columns in the forthcoming table the divine predicate column and the human predicate column, respectively, and call the whole table the “Candidate Predicate Table” (Table 4.1). Table 4.1 The Candidate Predicate Table Divine Candidate Predicates

Human Candidate Predicates

Invisible Incomprehensible Unlimited Impassible Inexpressible in writing Omnipresent Immutable

Visible Comprehensible Limited Passible Expressible in writing Localized to a place Mutable

The responses available to the denier of Incompatible Predications consist in either showing how at most only one predicate from each row is apt of Christ at any one time, or of showing that, while both are apt of Christ, they are apt of Christ in different senses, or in showing that the predicates in each pair aren’t really incompatible. There are multiple ways to do this. Here I will attempt to set out the multiple ways of denying Incompatible Predications in as logical a structure as I can see. One response is to deny part (iii) of Incompatible Predications, claiming that the divine Candidate predicates are not apt of things possessing a divine nature. It might be that these predicates are never truly predicated of anything possessing a divine nature, as Richard Cross says of the predicates timeless, immutable, and impassible (Cross 2005, 205; 2011, 464–5). If no divine Candidate predicate is a Problematic predicate, then there is no Problematic pair such that both predicates are aptly predicated of Christ. And so Incompatible Predicates is false; thus, the Problem is solved. Call this the Response of Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ. Another response is to claim that the divine Candidate predicates are apt of Christ, but deny that the human Candidate predicates are apt of him as well. On such a response, part (iv) of Incompatible Predications is false. The claim here is

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that there is no divine Candidate predicate that cannot be predicated of a thing possessing a human nature. As to the evidence we might think we have to the contrary, we can argue as follows. While we know that in mundane cases where a human nature isn’t assumed, there are no uncreated or eternal humans, this knowledge is not sufﬁcient evidence to conclude that in a case of incarnation, the Candidate predications cannot be true of a thing bearing a human nature.21 Call this the Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ. Another response is to claim that both the divine and human Candidate predicates are apt of Christ, but deny that they are both apt of him at the same time. Thus, part (i) of Incompatible Predications is false. While it was true of Christ that, say, he is omnipresent, and it might once again be true of him at a later point, during the incarnation he was emptied to an extent that omnipresence and all other predicates incapable of being aptly predicated of something with a human nature are not apt of him.22 Call this the Response of Denying the Predicates “at the same time.” Another family of responses begins by supposing that at least one Candidate pair is such that both members of that Candidate pair are said of the person of Christ at the same time. If one grants the incompatibility of the pair when said of the same thing at the same time in the same sense, then the only way remaining to deny Incompatible Predications for such a person is to deny that last clause: in the same sense is true. That is, such a person would have to deny (ii) and claim that these predications are not true in the same way. Call this the Response of Denying the Predicates “in the same sense.” For instance, it is true “that Christ is passible” qua human, and true “that Christ is impassible” qua divine, as we saw in Chapter 1, Section VI. And, this method of response continues, it is false “that Christ is passible” qua divine, and false “that Christ is impassible” qua human. These “qua” clauses change the ways, or respects, or senses, in which the predications are true, and so the problematic predications are not true in the same sense, and so (ii) of Incompatible Predications is false. This “qua” move, while common in the Christian intellectual tradition, has fallen on hard times due to the difﬁculty of giving a satisfying account of what is going on in “qua” locutions.23 I will present and discuss the four ways I see available for understanding the “qua” locution, two of which subdivide further, providing a total of six ways of denying (ii). Here I brieﬂy sketch them; in Chapter 6 I discuss them in greater length. Consider a test case, the locution, “Christ is passible,” which is modiﬁed by the clause, “qua his human nature.” Here, so far as I can see, there are four things to

21 This is a common move in the literature (Cross 2011, 463–5; Morris 1987; 2009, 214–15; Senor 2011, 107–11; Swinburne 1994, 28). 22 Later, in Chapter 5, Section V.c., I will discuss the exaltation of Christ, the doctrine that he remains incarnate everlastingly and “puts on” all the divine predicates he once had at some point after his death. Such a view creates problems for the Response of Denying “at the same time,” since the Problem comes back at that later, exalted, time. 23 Many thinkers challenge the possibility of qua-clauses doing the work they would need to do to solve The Problem (Cross 2011, 455–7; Morris 1987, 46–55; Senor 2002, 29–33; van Inwagen 1998).

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modify.24 The whole assertion, “Christ is passible” can be modiﬁed, or each of the three separate linguistic parts can be so modiﬁed: the subject, the copula, or the predicate. I will discuss these in turn. Call the response that takes the “qua” to modify the whole assertion the Response of Modifying the Assertion or just the (A) response. One example of a modiﬁer modifying a whole assertion is “It is raining in Dyer, Indiana.” The prepositional phrase in that sentence tells us what context to use when evaluating the truth of the assertion that it is raining. Call the response that takes the “qua” to modify the subject of the predication— so that the subject is really “Christ-qua-passible”—the Response of Modifying the Subject, or just the (S) response. An example of such a modiﬁer would be “The ﬁrst half of the movie is boring.” Here the modiﬁer refers to the speciﬁc part that is the subject of boringness. The movie as a whole may be gripping, but a speciﬁc part of it, the ﬁrst half, is not. Call the response that takes the “qua” to modify the predicate—so that the predicate is really “passible-qua-human”—the Response of Modifying the Predicate, or just the (P) response. For instance, “The man is blue in his eyes.” Here the modiﬁer might be understood to be saying that the man is blue-eyed, in which case, the predicate is the thing modiﬁed. (If instead we took the modiﬁer to tell us that the man’s eyes were the subjects of blueness, we’d have another example of the (S) view.) Call the response that takes the “qua” to modify the copula of the predication— so that the copula is really “is-qua-human”—the Response of Modifying the Copula, or just the (C) response. For example, “The boy is quietly laughing.” Here the term, “quietly,” does not change the subject of the predication. And one needn’t see it as providing a new predicate distinct from the familiar predicate, “laughing.” Rather, the manner of the boy’s activity is being modiﬁed. The modiﬁer characterizes how he is doing what he is doing. Both the (C) and the (P) responses subdivide depending on how one understands the modiﬁcation. One can understand the modiﬁed results as either oneplace or two-place. For example, one can understand the predicate that results from the (P) response to be “passible-qua-human,” where “human” is a built in and unchangeable part of that predicate, or one can understand the predicate as “passible-qua-N” where “N” is a variable that is substitutional. In the ﬁrst case, the predicate is a “one-place” predicate, since it has one variable in it. In a logical format, the ﬁrst predication might be symbolized like this, letting the predicate “PH” stand for “passible-qua-human”: PH(x). The second view would symbolize the predicate as a relation “P(x,y)” where “P” is the predicate “passible,” “x” is the thing aptly said to be passible, and “y” is that nature in virtue of which the thing is aptly said to be passible. In the Christ case, it would be P(c,h), for “Christ is passible in virtue of the human nature.” The ﬁrst predicate is non-substitutional, whereas the second is substitutional. We can call these subdivided replies the Response of Non-Substitutional Predicate Modifying (NSP) and the Response of Substitutional Predicate Modifying (SP). We might also call this “one-place” and “two-place” predicate modifying.

24 On this point, see my (Pawl 2016), where I discuss these different responses in light of another metaphysical problem, the Problem of Temporary Intrinsics.

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Likewise, a similar subdivision presents itself when we consider substitutional and non-substitutional modiﬁcations made to the copula. One might believe there to be multiple copulas, each with a built in and unchangeable modiﬁcation—e.g. is-qua-human; is-qua-canine, etc.—or one can consider there to be a single copula with a variable built into it which can take multiple substitution cases—e.g. is-qua-N. We can call these subdivided replies the Response of Non-Substitutional Copula Modifying (NSC) and the Response of Substitutional Copula Modifying (SC). Finally, one might accept that the divine and human Candidate predicates are apt of Christ at the same time and in the same way, but deny their incompatibility. In such a case, there would be no inconsistency in Christ’s being, say, aptly characterized by both “passible” and “impassible” at the same time, in the same way. This is because of the unique situation of Christ’s having two natures. Call this the Response of Denying the Incompatibility of the Predicates. I defend this as a viable response in Chapter 7. To summarize, I have presented ten responses one might make to the Fundamental Problem, in addition to the ﬁve responses I discussed in this chapter. Here I will list them, along with the chapter and section in which I discuss them: 1. The Response of Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates are apt of Christ 2. The Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates are apt of Christ 3. The Response of Denying the Predicates “at the same time” The Response of Denying the Predicates “in the same sense” 4. The Response of Modifying the Assertion (A) 5. The Response of Modifying the Subject (S) The Response of Modifying the Predicate (P)

5.II. 5.III. 5.V. 6. 6.III. 6.IV. 6.V.

6. The Response of Non-Substitutional Predicate Modifying (NSP) 7. The Response of Substitutional Predicate Modifying (SP)

6.V.a. 6.V.b.

The Response of Modifying the Copula (C) 8. The Response of Non-Substitutional Copula Modifying (NSC)

6.VI. 6.VI.a.

9. The Response of Substitutional Copula Modifying (SC) 10.The Response of Denying the Incompatibility of the Predicates

6.VI.b. 7.II.

There are in additon to the responses I discussed in this chapter, which were: 11. The Response of Denying Conciliar Christology 12. The Response of Denying No Complementary Predications

4.II.c. 4.III.

13. The Response of Denying the Law of Non-Contradiction

4.IV.a.

14. The Response of Denying that Candidate Predicates have Complements 15. The Response of Appealing to Mystery

4.IV.b. 4.IV.c.

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Finally, there are hybrid responses, which mix together elements from these responses. In fact, I think that hybrid responses are the most common in the literature.25 There is, after all, no requirement that one deal with each candidate pair in the same way. What is required, at the end of the day, is the falsity of Incompatible Predications; that is, what is required is that no two incompatible predicates are true of the same thing at the same time in the same way. To solve the problem, one needs to ensure that no Candidate pair is a Problematic pair. For instance, some pairs might be dealt with by claiming that a human can, indeed, aptly be predicated by a divine Candidate predication, and so deny that all humans must be predicated by the complement of the divine Candidate predicate. Morris (1987, 65–7) does this work with his now-standard merely human versus fully human distinction, and John of Damascus did similarly over a millennia ago in his The Orthodox Faith. There he (2000, 283) writes: The whole He, then is perfect God, but not wholly God, because He is not only God but also man. Likewise, the whole He is perfect man, but not wholly man, because He is not only man but also God.

While mere humans, such as you and me, cannot be omnipotent or omniscient, the same need not be said of things that are fully human. And while being merely human entails being fully human, being fully human does not entail being merely human: Christ, who is fully human, is not merely human. At the same time, other predicates might be dealt with in different ways. One might claim that some predicates are “qua”-modiﬁed and so aren’t, in fact, incompatible, or that some of the predicates, while incompatible, are not true at the same time. So long as the hybrid response leaves no incompatible predicates apt at the same time in the same way of Christ, it will meet the minimum conditions for being successful. In the following three chapters, I will discuss these responses. In Chapter 5 I will discuss the ﬁrst three responses: The Response of Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ, the Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ and the Response of Denying the Predicates “at the same time.” I will argue that these three responses, either taken singulatim or together, do not resolve the Fundamental Problem. In Chapter 6 I will discuss the following six responses, which all focus on denying that the predicates are apt in the same sense. In Chapter 7 I discuss the ﬁnal response: denying the incompatibility of the predicates.

VI. CONCLUSION In this chapter I have presented the objection to Conciliar Christology that I intend to address in the next three chapters. My goal is to survey the options that

25 For instance, Cross (2011, 471), employs both the ﬁrst and second response. Senor (2011) employs the ﬁrst three responses.

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Conciliar Christology has for escaping the contradiction derived at step 7. So far as I can see, there are but two ways to avoid it: The Conciliar Christologist must either deny No Complementary Predications or deny Incompatible Predications. In this chapter I have argued that one ought not to reject No Complementary Predications. The only remaining premise to reject, then, is Incompatible Predications. So, in the following three chapters, I will discuss ways in which one might deny that premise, following the route I set out in Section V of this chapter.

5 Denying the Predications I . I N T RO D U C T I O N In Chapter 4 I presented the Fundamental Philosophical Problem of Christology, along with some responses to that Problem which I deemed unsatisfactory. I then laid out ten possible types of responses to the Problem, all of which focused on denying the following premise of the Problem: Incompatible Predications: There are some predicates that fulﬁll the following conditions: (i) at the same time, (ii) in the same sense, (iii) they must be aptly predicated of anything possessing a divine nature, but (iv) their complements must be aptly predicated of anything possessing a human nature. In this chapter I focus on three responses I presented in Section V of the previous chapter. They are, as I presented them there: 1. The Response of Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ. 2. The Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ. 3. The Response of Denying the Predicates “at the same time.” I ﬁnd that the responses fail, whether taken singulatim or in unison. Recall the Candidate Predicate Table introduced in Section V of Chapter 4 (Table 5.1). The Response of Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ works by claiming the Candidate predicates in the divine column are not Problematic predicates because they are not aptly said of Christ. As such, the response denies the truth of Incompatible Predications (iii), at least for some Candidate predicates.

Table 5.1 The Candidate Predicate Table Divine Candidate Predicates

Human Candidate Predicates

Invisible Incomprehensible Unlimited Impassible Inexpressible in writing Omnipresent Immutable

Visible Comprehensible Limited Passible Expressible in writing Localized to a place Mutable

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The Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ works by claiming that the Candidate predicates in the human column are not Problematic predicates because they are not aptly said of Christ. As such, the response denies the truth of Incompatible Predications (iv), at least for some Candidate predicates. The Response of Denying the Predicates “at the same time” allows that the predicates in at least one Candidate pair are both aptly said of Christ, but denies that they are both aptly said of Christ at the same time, and so denies that the necessary conditions for a contradiction are met. As such, this response denies the truth of Incompatible Predications (i), at least for some Candidate pairs. As stated at the end of Chapter 4, there is no requirement that a single response preclude all the Candidate predicates as viable substitution instances of the variable “P” in the Problem. It could be, for instance, that, say, “impassible” (a divine Candidate predicate) is inaptly said of Christ, while “non-omniscient” (a human Candidate predicate) is inaptly said of Christ, and, say, being “omnipresent” and being “non-omnipresent” are both aptly said of him, though “omnipresent” is apt of him prior to his incarnation, whereas “non-omnipresent” is apt of him during the incarnation. Such a hybrid response, provided that it could deal with all Candidate pairs, would resolve the Problem. Even so, I argue, a hybrid of these three responses fails. I will discuss these responses in the order I listed them. I will argue that, while useful in some cases, these responses will not work to answer the Problem without employing some of the remaining responses, because these responses are inconsistent with what Conciliar Christology says about at least some Candidate pairs.

I I . T H E R E S P O N S E F R OM D E NY I N G T H E DI V I N E C A N D I D A TE P R E D I C A T E S O F C H R I S T In this section I will provide an example of one view that makes use of the Response of Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ; that is, the response of denying (iii) of Incompatible Predications (Section II.a.). The example is taken from the work of Richard Cross. I then argue that such a response to the Problem is inconsistent with Conciliar Christology (Section II.b.).

II.a. An Example of the Response Consider the work of Richard Cross (2005, 2011), which I take to be a hybrid strategy. Cross (2011, 464) suggests a “trimming” move, whereby we trim those predications from the God-man that lead to inconsistency. The aspect of Cross’s theory that I wish to discuss here is his trimming of the attributes of the divine nature. For instance, Cross claims that Christ must have been mutable and passible, since he did change and suffer. To be able to change and to be able to suffer are modal predicates, though—predicates that if apt of a thing, must be apt of that thing—and so they were apt of the Word prior to the incarnation as well. For instance, something can’t go from being unable to change to being able to

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change, the thought is, since in order to undergo that change one must already be able to change. But in the prior state, the state of being immutable, it is false that the thing is able to change. And so the thing does not fulﬁll the necessary condition for being able to go from being immutable to being mutable. Thus, Christ was changeable and able to suffer prior to the incarnation; he was not and is not immutable and impassible. Cross puts the reasoning tightly concerning the doctrine of divine timelessness, which he also thinks one should deny in light of the Fundamental Problem (2011, 464): Anything that is human is temporal; nothing can be ﬁrst timeless and then temporal; no divine person is essentially non-human; so no divine person is timeless.

Notice that the conclusion goes beyond claims about the Son. Neither the Father nor the Holy Spirit is timeless (or immutable, or impassible), if Cross’s reasoning is sound. (I take up Cross’s reasoning in Chapter 8, Section IV.a., where I discuss the problem of modal predicates in more detail.) Cross does not advocate trimming all and only the divine predicates from each Candidate pair. But one can nevertheless ask whether such a move would be open to Conciliar Christology. If so, then the proponent of such a move would be able to rule out all cases of purportedly incompatible predicates apt of Christ by denying that the divine predicate from each Candidate pair is apt of Christ. Recall, that at this stage of the dialectic, we are not considering the claim that the predicates go from being apt to being inapt across time (that comes in The Response of Denying “at the same time”). We are considering the claim that the so-called divine predicates of each Candidate pair are not apt of Christ at any time or in any state (pre- or post-incarnational as well as during the incarnation).

II.b. The Response is not Generalizable We should have worries here about whether the Response of Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ is fully generalizable. Could it be that, for each Candidate pair, one or the other of the predicates is trimmable? The answer here, at least on the assumption of Conciliar Christology, is “no.” Unsurprisingly, Conciliar Christology bars its proponents from responding to the Fundamental Problem by invoking only the Response of Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ. For, Conciliar Christology includes the claims that Christ is immutable and impassible.1 As I noted in Chapter 1, Christ is immutable, for he “is unchangeable and immutable by nature” (72) and he “is unalterable and absolutely unchangeable and remains always the same as the scriptures say”

1

Also, there is reason to think that Conciliar Christology requires the claim that Christ is atemporal too, given the second anathema of Second Constantinople: Anathema 2: “If anyone will not confess that the Word of God has two nativities, that which is before all ages from the Father, outside time and without a body, and secondly that nativity of these latter days when the Word of God came down from the heavens and was made ﬂesh of holy and glorious Mary, mother of God and ever-virgin, and was born from her: let him be anathema” (114). I deal with divine atemporality in more detail later in Chapter 8, Sections II.c. and IV.

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(51). He is impassible, since, “according to his own nature [he] is not subject to suffering” (53). (For more textual evidence for these claims, see Chapter 1, Section III) It will be no surprise to Cross that such a trimming maneuver will require giving up Conciliar Christology. He claims (2011, 453, 471) that this method of answering “the fundamental philosophical problem speciﬁc to the doctrine” is “an abandonment of a strong form of classical theism.” Thus, while this response might work to rule out the divine predicate from some Candidate pairs, it will not be a fully generalizable response to the Problem that is consistent with Conciliar Christology.

II I. T HE R ES PO N S E F R OM D E NY IN G TH E HU M AN C A N D I D A TE P R E D I C A T E S O F C H R I S T In this section I discuss The Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ, and in so doing, denying (iv) of Incompatible Predications. As with the previous response, I will ﬁrst present a representative of this response (III.a.), then I will argue that the response is not generalizable, and so is not, by itself, sufﬁcient to answer the Problem (III.b.).

III.a. An Example of the Response This response is found in the work of Thomas Morris, though, like Cross in Section II above, Morris does not advocate employing The Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ alone. Morris makes a distinction between being fully human and being merely human. To be fully human is to be perfectly and entirely human. According to Conciliar Christology, Christ, like you and me, is fully human. But, unlike you and me, Christ is not merely human, since he is fully and completely divine as well.2 Armed with this distinction, we might begin to question our evidence for (iv) of Incompatible Predications. We might note that our evidence for the claim that, say, every human is nonomnipotent, is drawn by reﬂection on cases of persons who are both fully and merely human. One might question, though, whether it is reasonable to infer from the (seeming) fact that all mere humans are non-omnipotent to the conclusion that all humans, whether merely human or not, are non-omnipotent. And if it is reasonable to reason in such a way, the proponent of this Response from Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ will ask for some justiﬁcation for its reasonability, as she seeks to block such an inference.

2 As I noted in an earlier chapter (Chapter 4, Section V) St John of Damascus makes this distinction as well in book 3, chapter 7 of his An Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith. For a translation, see St John of Damascus (2000).

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Morris (1987, 67) provides a clear example of this response in the following passage: My suggestion is that such properties as those of possibly coming into existence, coming to be at some time, being a contingent creation, and being such as to possibly cease to exist are, although common human properties, not essential to being human. They, or some of them, may be essential to being merely human, but they can be held, in all epistemic and metaphysical propriety, not to be essential to being fully human. . . .

The proponent of this response, then, seeks to deny Incompatible Predications (iv), for at least some Candidate pairs. Again, while Morris uses other strategies besides this strategy in reply to Candidate pairs, one might still ask whether it is open to a proponent of Conciliar Christology to employ only The Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ in answering the Fundamental Problem. And, as with The Response of Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ, the answer must be “no.”

III.b. The Response is not Generalizable For The Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ to answer the Problem all by itself, it must be the case that, for any Candidate pair of which Conciliar Christology requires one to predicate the divine predicate of Christ, one must deny the predication of the human predicate of Christ. And so, since, as we have seen, Conciliar Christology requires one to predicate the predicate “impassible” of Christ, the thinker who wishes to use this response alone must deny the human predicate of Christ. That is, she must deny that “Christ is passible” is true. That, however, is not open to a proponent of Conciliar Christology. For one thing, Christ suffered and died. But to suffer and die is to be affected. And to be affected is a sufﬁcient condition for being aptly described as passible. So Christ is passible according to Conciliar Christology. Furthermore, the Nicene Creed explicitly says as much (passus est, in the Latin), as do other conciliar statements (see Chapter 1, Sections III and IV). For instance the Second Council of Constantinople afﬁrms (Tanner 1990, 114, 118) that the “[Word] of God who works miracles is” “identical with the Christ who suffered” and also that “Jesus Christ, who was cruciﬁed in his human ﬂesh, is truly God and the Lord of glory and one of the members of the holy Trinity.” Thus, Conciliar Christology does not allow the possibility of responding to The Problem with only The Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ.

I V . TH E R E S P O N S E S F R O M D E N Y I N G T H E H U M A N A N D D I V I N E C A N D I D A T E P R ED I C A T E S O F C H R I S T IN C O N J U N C T I O N AR E I N S U F F I C I E N T One hope that some in the debate have is that one of these two responses, or perhaps both together, will be sufﬁcient to respond to the Problem. That is, the hope is that one can look at an exhaustive listing of Candidate pairs and note, for

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each such pair, which of the two is apt of the God-man, Jesus Christ, and why. It would be a beneﬁt of such a theory that it does not have to employ “qua-clauses,” since such clauses are viewed with an askance eye by many in the contemporary debate. And such a response would not have to work out a theory of predications of the sort I will present in Chapter 7, on which both Candidate predicates are apt of the same person at the same time, in the same way. For these reasons, being able to employ a hybrid response wherein, for each Candidate pair, one or the other of the Candidate predicates is denied of Christ would be a very good thing. Unfortunately, Conciliar Christology precludes such a response to the Problem. Here’s why. 1. If Conciliar Christology teaches that Candidate pairs are predicated of Christ, then neither The Response of Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ, The Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ, nor their conjunction, is sufﬁcient to solve the Problem. 2. Conciliar Christology teaches that Candidate pairs are predicated of Christ. 3. Neither the Response of Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ, the Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ, nor their conjunction, is sufﬁcient to solve the Problem (From 1, 2).

Why think that the premises of this argument are true? The ﬁrst premise is true because these two responses are attempts to ward off predicating both members of a Candidate pair of Christ. They work as solutions only if Conciliar Christology does not require afﬁrming both members of a Candidate pair of Christ in the incarnation. For recall the dialectic here. We are assuming that the members of the Candidate pairs are incompatible, and so cannot be said of the same thing at the same time in the same way. (If they could be said of the same thing at the same time in the same way we would not need to invoke either of the two responses under discussion.) These responses grant the assumption, but deny that both Candidate predicates are apt of Christ. And so, if Conciliar Christology teaches that both members of a Candidate pair not only can be, but are apt of Christ, then these two responses, even together, will not work as a full solution to the Problem, which is exactly what Premise 1 says. There is textual evidence in the conciliar statements for the second premise. I will provide two examples from the conciliar texts, both already given in Chapter 1, Section VI. First, the Tome of Leo says: To pay off the debt of our state, invulnerable nature was united to a nature that could suffer; so that in a way that corresponded to the remedies we needed, one and the same mediator between God and humanity, the man Christ Jesus, could both on the one hand die and on the other be incapable of death [et mori posset ex uno et mori non posset ex altero]. (78)

Here Leo claims that one and the same thing can both die and be incapable of death. Since anything that actually dies is capable of death, it follows that both predications, “Christ is capable of death” and “Christ is incapable of death” are true (in fact, the Latin is better rendered “capable of death” than “die”). And since the subject of the predication is “one and the same . . . Christ Jesus,” we cannot say that these two predications are predicated of different subjects. Hence, the

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members of at least one Candidate pair—“capable of death” and “incapable of death”—are apt of Christ. Even more explicitly, the Fourth Council of Constantinople (ad 869–70), which is the eighth ecumenical council (on the Catholic reckoning of things, and so not itself part of Conciliar Christology, as I have deﬁned it), says the following about the seventh ecumenical council, the Second Council of Nicaea (which is a part of Conciliar Christology, as I have deﬁned it): We also know that the seventh, holy and universal synod, held for the second time at Nicaea, taught correctly when it professed the one and same Christ as both invisible and visible (invisibilem et visibilem) lord, incomprehensible and comprehensible (incomprehensibilem et comprehensibilem), unlimited and limited (incircumscriptum et circumscriptum), incapable and capable of suffering (impassibilem etiam et passibilem), inexpressible and expressible (inscriptibilem et scriptibilem) in writing. (162)

If this passage is correct about Second Nicaea, then Conciliar Christology entails the truth of both “Christ is passible” and “Christ is impassible”; of “Christ is visible” and “Christ is invisible,” and so on. And it is one and the same Christ of which these seemingly incompatible predicates are predicated. Thus, we have reason to think that both members of ﬁve Candidate pairs are predicated of Christ according to Conciliar Christology. In addition, we ﬁnd this sort of explicit afﬁrmation of apparently contradictory predicates in the works of individual fathers, too. For instance, St Vincent of Lerins says (J. R. Willis and Rouët de Journel 2002, 318–319): It is one and the same Christ, God and man, the same uncreated and created, the same unchangeable and incapable of suffering, the same acquainted by experience with both change and suffering, the same equal to the Father and inferior to the Father . . .

We ﬁnd similar expressions in St Ignatius of Antioch (J. R. Willis and Rouët de Journel 2002, 343). From these passages, and others like them, I take the ecumenical councils to teach that one can predicate two apparently incompatible predicates of the same one person, Jesus Christ, the Second Person of the Trinity. As such, responses to Incompatible Predications that deny one member of each Candidate pair fail. Thus, these two responses, even together, will leave some Candidate predications able to be substituted in for “P” in the argument presented in Chapter 4; they will not show that argument to be unsound. Any fully satisfactory response to the Problem that takes the members of Candidate pairs to be incompatible when said of the same thing at the same time in the same way, then, must do more than merely deny that one or the other member of all Candidate pairs are ever aptly predicated of Christ. For, as we have seen, Conciliar Christology does predicate both members of at least some Candidate pairs of Christ. Thus, a fully satisfactory response will need to include a denial of (i) or (ii) of incompatible predications as well, for at least some Candidate pairs. That is, for those Candidate pairs that, according to Conciliar Christology, are both predicated of Christ, they must be apt of him either not at the same time, or not in the same way (again, assuming them to be incompatible when said of the same thing at the same time in the same sense, an assumption I question in Chapter 7). In the remainder of this chapter I consider the claim that they are not

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apt at the same time. In the following chapter, Chapter 6, I consider the claim that they are not true in the same way.

V . TH E R ESP O NS E O F D EN Y IN G THE P RE D I C A T ES “ A T TH E S AM E TI ME” The ﬁnal response I will consider in this chapter is The Response of Denying “at the same time,” which afﬁrms that the members of the Candidate pairs would be incompatible, were they said of the same thing at the same time in the same way, and afﬁrms, with Conciliar Christology, that at least some Candidate pairs are such that their members are both apt of Christ, but denies that they are both apt of Christ at the same time. By far, the most common form of this view goes under the title of Kenotic Christology. Again, as with the last two responses, I will discuss a representative of the strategy (Section V.a.), and then argue that the strategy is not generalizable (Section V.b.). In Section V.b., I provide two arguments against the Kenotic theory. The ﬁrst is an argument that divine immutability, as understood and taught by Conciliar Christology, precludes the sort of change required in the Godhead according to Kenotic theory (Section V.b.1). Second, I argue that the conciliar statements explicitly take up the biblical text most often used to support Kenotic theory, understanding it in a way that is not consonant with Kenotic theory, and that the conciliar statements also claim that Christ was, at one and the same time, aptly described by at least one Candidate pair (Section V.b.2). Finally, I will argue that a commonly held doctrine, the doctrine of the exaltation of Christ post-resurrection, entails that the Kenotic theory alone is not sufﬁcient to answer the Fundamental Problem (Section V.c.).

V.a. An Example of the Response Kenotic Christology, as the name is used here, refers to a Christological theory that traces back to nineteenth century German thinkers Gottfried Thomasius and W. F. Gess.3 The Christology grew from reﬂection on the Christological hymn in Philippians 2, which begins: 6 who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, 7 but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, 8 he humbled himself

3 The history is given in brief by Stephen Davis (2011, 114–15); C. Stephen Evans (2006a, 3–5); and Thomas Senor (2011, 102–3), and in much greater depth by Thomas Thompson (2006).

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and became obedient to the point of death— even death on a cross. (NRSV)

It is the self-emptying in verse 7 that draws the attention of the Kenotic thinker. Could it be that Christ was aptly predicated by the divine Candidate predicates prior to this self-emptying, but no longer aptly predicated by them during the selfemptying? Might it be that, while self-emptied, he was only aptly predicated by human Candidate predicates? If such a response were open to the proponent of Conciliar Christology, then a solution to the Problem presents itself.4 We could create another predicate table, but rather than considering whether the predicates are apt of Christ at all, we can consider whether they are apt of him at some particular time. Given Kenotic Christology, one might be able to claim that, for every Candidate pair, and for every time, one, but not both, of those Candidate predicates is apt of Christ. Given this claim, Incompatible Predicates (i) is false, since there is no time at which both members of a Candidate pair are apt of Christ. And so the proponent of The Response of Denying “at the same time” can grant that the Problem is logically valid, and that, were she to accept all three assumptions, she would be stuck in a contradiction, but deny that she accepts all three assumptions. Before considering whether Kenotic Christology is consistent with Conciliar Christology, I should say a bit more about how, exactly, self-emptying is understood on the Kenotic theory. The claim is that the Word of God, the Second Person of the Trinity, divests himself of some of his attributes in the incarnation. He gives up, for instance, his omnipotence when becoming man. He literally and truthfully has it no more; the predication “Christ is omnipotent” is false during the incarnation, as C. Stephen Evans claims (2006a, 7). Here is how Stephen Davis (2006, 115), a leading proponent of Kenotic Christology, explains a Kenotic theory he defends at length elsewhere: Let me now sketch out a possible kenotic theory of the Incarnation. The basic idea is that Christ was indeed simultaneously truly divine and truly human, possessing as he did all the properties that are essential to divinity and humanity, and that this was made possible by the Logos emptying itself [sic], during the period of Jesus’ earthly life, of those properties that normally characterize divinity but are inconsistent with humanity.

Davis (1988, 52) expresses similar sentiments, but extends them slightly: What would have to happen in order for God to remain divine and to become a man? Naturally, a complete answer to that question is beyond my knowledge. But one of the things that would surely have to happen would be that God would have to give up whatever divine properties (accidental ones of course; the essential ones cannot be given up if God is to remain God) are inconsistent with being human. It would also entail God's not assuming whatever accidental human properties are inconsistent with being divine. The whole picture depends on there not being any essential divine properties that a human being cannot have and on there not being any essential

4 For expositions or in-depth discussion of Kenotic Christology, see Davis (2011); Evans (2006a); Forrest (2009); Morris (1987, 89–102); Senor (2011); Sturch (1991, 252–60); and Weinandy (1985, chap. 4).

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human properties that God cannot have. (See also his Logic and the Nature of God. (S. T. Davis 1983, chap. 8))

The idea, then, is that the Second Person of the Trinity gives up those properties that are true of him outside the incarnation, but are inconsistent with the properties he must take on in order to be fully human. Davis expresses himself in terms of “properties,” but a similar point can be made in terms of predicates. The Logos changes, and as a result of that change, the predicates inconsistent with those predicates that must be apt of a human are no longer apt of him. Elsewhere, Davis (2011, 121) uses the term “giving up” to describe the selfemptying: What does it mean for God to “give up” a property? Well, as long as the property in question is accidental, there is no insuperable problem . . . “God gives up property p” would roughly mean that at a given point God has property p but at a later point, of God’s own free choice, God does not have property p.5

The Kenotic theory, then, requires that God change, or, perhaps more speciﬁcally, that the Son change. And this change is not merely change of the human nature or aspect or component of the Son. Rather, the whole person of the Son gives up or changes things integral or intrinsic to the divine nature or component. That is, something about the divine has to change for the Son to change, as Kenotic theory requires. Don Cupitt discusses Charles Gore’s Kenotic Christology, claiming that, for Gore (Cupitt 1977, 136), “the divine attributes must be dimmed or veiled.” But to avoid a contradiction, they must be more than dimmed or veiled. The predications must no longer be true of Christ that he is, for instance, omnipresent or omnipotent. Merely hiding the attributes will not make those predications false. He must not, in actuality, be omnipotent, for the predication “Christ is not omnipotent” to be true. Cupitt goes on to claim (1979, 137) that metaphysical kenosis is incompatible with theism. I think that Thomas Morris (1987, 89–102) shows this charge to be ultimately unestablished.

V.b. Kenoticism is Inconsistent with Conciliar Christology In what follows, I will provide two reasons to think that Kenotic Christology is inconsistent with Conciliar Christology. The ﬁrst is that if Conciliar Christology includes a strong version of divine immutability, then Kenotic Christology is false. And, Conciliar Christology does include strong divine immutability (Section V.b.1). The second is that the councils themselves consider what it is to self-empty, and understand it in such a way that Christ keeps properties that the Kenotic theorist wants Christ to give up, in particular, omnipotence and omnipresence (Section V.b.2). Finally, I will argue that Kenotic theory, even if somehow made consistent with Conciliar Christology and shown to resolve the Problem for predicates apt of Christ concerning his earthly ministry, does not solve the problem for all

5

Elsewhere (S. T. Davis 2006, 118) he reiterates the same notion of giving up.

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times at which Jesus is incarnate, given the assumption of the doctrine of the exaltation (Section V.c.).

V.b.1. Immutability and Kenoticism Conciliar Christology includes the claims that Christ’s divine nature is immutable, and that he is immutable according to it. I have given quotations from the councils to support this claim in this chapter (Section II.b.) and in the ﬁrst chapter (Section III). In Chapter 8 (Section II.a.) I give evidence that the afﬁrmation of divine immutability continues into the confessional declarations of many protestant denominations, as well as the Catholics and the teachings of the Orthodox. Even if it is clear that traditional Christianity includes the doctrine of divine immutability, what, precisely, that doctrine amounts to is not perspicuous. There are many subtle and nuanced views of immutability—far too many to receive individual attention in this section. Here I will focus on the two most commonly discussed views of immutability.6 One understanding of divine immutability, call it the weak view, is that divine immutability merely guarantees that God’s character is unchanging, and that God will remain faithful to his promises and covenants. For instance, see Richard Swinburne’s The Coherence of Theism, where he discusses both types of immutability under consideration in this section. There (1993, 219) he sides with the weak view, according to which “to say of a person that he is immutable is simply to say that he cannot change in character.” Isaak Dorner’s (1994) view is that God is ethically immutable but that divine vitality requires divine change.7 This view of immutability understands divine immutability to be the claim that God is constant in his character and virtue; that God is not ﬁckle; and that God will remain true to his promises. This ﬁrst view does not preclude other sorts of change in God. In particular, this view is consistent with Kenotic theory insofar as Kenoticists do not want to claim that Christ became unfaithful and ﬁckle in his incarnation. So long as the changes required by Kenoticism are changes in other attributes, or changes in predications independent of God’s moral states, Kenoticism is consistent with weak immutability. A stronger understanding of divine immutability is that God (or the divine nature) is literally unable to change. As Thomas Aquinas, a commonly cited proponent of this view, says, not in a discussion of the incarnation, but in a discussion of the nature of God, God is “altogether immutable . . . it is impossible for God to be in any way changeable.”8 God doesn’t change by coming to be or 6

The argument and much of the wording for the forthcoming discussion of immutability comes from my Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy article on the topic; see Pawl (2009). Stephen Davis (2006, 137) draws this distinction and discusses these two notions of immutability as well. He does not, though, consider the argumentative work the fathers put the notion to, as I do below. Francis Hall also argues that the Kenotic theory is inconsistent with the doctrine of immutability found in the councils; see Hall (1898, chap. 3, sec. 2) 7 See Dorner (1994), especially the helpful introduction by Williams (1986, 19–23), and Dorner’s third essay, “The Reconstruction of the Immutability Doctrine.” For discussions of Dorner, see Jay Richards (2003, 198–9) and Robert Williams (1986). 8 ST I q.9 a.1 resp. translation from Aquinas (1920).

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ceasing to be; by gaining or losing qualities; by any quantitative growth or diminishment; by learning or forgetting anything; by starting or stopping to will what he wills; or in any other way that requires going from being one way to being another.9 Whenever a proposition about God changes truth-value, the reason for the change in truth-value of the proposition is not, on this view of immutability, because of a change in the divine nature, but because of some other change in something else.10 Father Bruno is praising God the Father, and so the proposition that the Father is being praised by Father Bruno is true. Later that same proposition is no longer true, but not because of any change in the Father, who with only the divine nature, has no changeable nature on this view. It is no longer true because Father Bruno stopped praising the Father, and not because the Father is in any way different than he was. Likewise in other situations: the divine nature doesn’t go from being one way to being another; rather, something else changes and on account of that a proposition about God changes its truth-value. On this strong view of immutability, the giving up of attributes required by kenosis is impossible. For, to give up an attribute, according to Davis, is to change from having it to not having it. God must go from being one way to being another, and strong immutability precludes such a change. In what follows I will argue that this latter understanding of immutability is almost certainly what the fathers intended by proclaiming divine immutability. But, if the fathers taught strong immutability at the ecumenical councils, then Conciliar Christology is inconsistent with Kenotic Christology.11 The case is strong that the conciliar fathers did not have the weak notion of immutability in mind. For, the weak notion of immutability is in tension with the use that the conciliar documents made of the concept. To see this, consider a quotation from the conciliar statements from Ephesus. We do not say that his ﬂesh was turned into the nature of the godhead or that the unspeakable Word of God was changed into the nature of the ﬂesh. For he (the Word) is unalterable and absolutely unchangeable and remains always the same as the scriptures say. (51, the emphasis is mine)

Here the council claims that the Word of God, the Second Person of the Trinity, is unalterable and absolutely unchangeable (and that such is taught in scripture). This claim of divine immutability is employed as a premise for the conclusion that Christ’s ﬂesh was not changed into the nature of the godhead, nor was the Second Person changed into the nature of ﬂesh. How could God’s ﬁdelity to his promises or moral constancy be evidence for a lack of metaphysical change in the incarnation? And why would anyone think to cite moral constancy as a reason to deny metaphysical difference in the Second Person as a result of the incarnation? 9 For how the content of this section can be true, and Christ grow in wisdom and stature (Luke 2:52), see my articles (2014c; 2014d) on Christ’s human knowledge and freedom. 10 I speak here of a proposition changing its truth-value, though it is not essential for divine immutability that propositions can change truth-values. If the reader holds a view where propositions have their truth-values at all times or timelessly, the reader may substitute in his or her preferred paraphrase for apparent change in the truth-value of propositions. 11 Crisp (2007b, 128), too, argues from immutability against the consistency of ontological Kenotic theory and orthodox Christology.

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Also, see the letter of Cyril to John of Antioch about Peace, again from the council of Ephesus: God the Word, who came down from above and from heaven, “emptied himself, taking the form of a slave”, and was called son of man, though all the while he remained what he was, that is God (for he is unchangeable and immutable by nature). (72, the emphasis is added, though the parenthetical is in the original)

I take the plain reading of the italicized portions of these texts—Christ is unalterable and absolutely unchangeable and remains always the same and is unchangeable and immutable by nature—to be the strong immutability reading. If one were to attempt to read it in a weak sense, it would not do the work required by the Fathers. For, weak immutability would be no evidence for the claim that the Second Person of the Trinity’s divine nature didn’t change when the Son assumed the human nature if all immutability amounts to is constancy of character. The change being ruled out at Ephesus is not moral change or change of character, but change of properties and change of nature. So the early church councils don’t have the constancy of character view in mind when they claim that God is immutable. If they had such a view in mind, they wouldn’t have thought to point to divine immutability in support of the claim that Christ’s divine nature didn’t change when he became incarnate. Such an inference would be, to borrow a phrase from P. F. Strawson, “a non sequitur of numbing grossness,” were the notion of immutability in mind weak immutability.12 In regard to the later councils and confessional statements to be cited in Chapter 8, Section II, they don’t deﬁne the meaning of “immutability” when they assert it in the list of divine attributes. Again, however, one notices that they do not put the afﬁrmation of divine immutability in discussion of God’s character but in discussion of God’s existence. One ﬁnds immutability in a list of other nonmoral attributes, and not subjugated to the afﬁrmation that God is holy or wholly good. This is another bit of evidence that the common view of immutability in the councils was not the weak notion. Paul Gavrilyuk makes a similar point concerning divine impassibility. He (2009, 139) writes: How does the doctrine of divine impassibility actually function in patristic texts? As the hymnographic material cited at the beginning of this essay illustrates, the notion of divine impassibility commonly appears in the context of other apophatic markers of the divine transcendence, such as immortality, immutability, invisibility, incorporeality, incomprehensibility, uncreatedness, and the like. This implies that divine impassibility is primarily a metaphysical term, marking God’s unlikeness to everything in the created order, not a psychological term denoting (as modern passibilists allege) God’s emotional apathy. (the emphasis is his)

Likewise, I claim, divine immutability functions in the same way (note that Gavrilyuk includes immutability in his list of other markers for metaphysical transcendence). We can see this through the usage the doctrine of immutability is put to in the conciliar reasoning. It is not employed as a psychological term, but as a metaphysical term. 12

Strawson (1990, 85) levels this charge against Kant’s second Analogy.

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The strong notion of immutability, unlike the weak notion, makes sense of the inferential work the fathers put the concept of immutability to in the conciliar statements. For, if Christ is immutable in the sense described by Aquinas near the beginning of this section, then that gives reason to afﬁrm that the natures were not modiﬁed in the incarnation. But, as stated above, a strong notion of immutability precludes Kenotic Christology. And, thus, one can reason as follows: 4. If Conciliar Christology includes strong immutability, then the Kenotic response to the Fundamental Problem, The Response of Denying “at the same time,” is inconsistent with Conciliar Christology. 5. Conciliar Christology does include strong immutability. 6. Thus, the Kenotic response to the Fundamental Problem, The Response of Denying “at the same time,” is inconsistent with Conciliar Christology (From 4, 5).

I have given evidence for Premise 4 in Section V.a., where I showed that Kenoticism requires change inconsistent with strong immutability. Thus, if Conciliar Christology includes strong immutability, it precludes Kenoticism, which is what Premise 4 says. I have provided evidence for Premise 5 in this section through showing that (i) the councils do teach that God is immutable, in some sense, and (ii), that a weaker notion of immutability makes unreasonable the argumentative work to which the fathers put the concept of immutability. The conclusion, 6, then, is true.

V.b.2. Kenoticism and Conciliar Predication A second reason for thinking that Kenoticism is incompatible with Conciliar Christology comes from explicit statements made by the fathers about what Christ’s self-emptying amounts to. Moreover, there are Conciliar statements that preclude him losing some Candidate predicates, such as “omnipotent” and “omnipresent.” Consider again the two quotations from the conciliar statements at Ephesus quoted above. The ﬁrst continues with these lines: For although visible as a child and in swaddling cloths, even while he was in the bosom of the virgin that bore him, as God he ﬁlled the whole of creation and was fellow ruler with him who begot him. (51)13

The point here, I take it, is that while limited and circumscribable in space, Christ ﬁlled all of creation. And, importantly, he continued his activity of ruling all of creation, even while a child in swaddling clothes. The Catechism of the Council of Trent (1982, 73) teaches similarly: This, then, the faithful must believe without hesitation, that Jesus Christ, having fully accomplished the work of Redemption, ascended as man, body and soul, into heaven; for as God He never forsook heaven, ﬁlling as He does all places with His Divinity.

13 There is a teaching called the extra calvinisticum, which Crisp (2007b, 142) expresses as follows: “The extra calvinisticum states that while the second person of the Trinity was incarnate in the person of Christ, he was simultaneously providentially sustaining the cosmos.” It looks to me that the doctrine might as well be called the extra leoisticum. See also (Calvin and Calvin 1995, 282; E. D. Willis 1967). Crisp, too, notes that the name is a misnomer.

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Another way of stating the same point would be that while limited in presence he was omnipresent. And so one attribute he did not give up in his incarnation was omnipresence. But then, since he is not omnipresent as man—being wholly located as man in the bosom of the virgin—the Problem arises. Both members of a Candidate pair are aptly predicated of Christ at one time. But this speaks against Kenotic theory, since omnipresence is supposed to be one of the features or attributes which Christ empties himself of when becoming incarnate, according to Kenoticism.14 The second passage from the conciliar statements at Ephesus quotes the scriptural passage (Philippians 2:7) concerning Christ’s self-emptying and notes that, even in the light of this passage, Christ remained what he was. But if, even in self-emptying, Christ did not change, then the modern Kenotic understanding of the self-emptying is not the understanding of the self-emptying championed by Conciliar Christology. Finally, consider a passage from Leo’s Tome to Flavian—included in the documents of Chalcedon, and afﬁrmed at both the Second and Third Councils of Constantinople (112, 127). Here Leo presents both a non-kenotic notion of selfemptying, as well as an afﬁrmation that, in the incarnation, Christ does not diminish: He took the form of a servant without the deﬁlement of sin, thereby enhancing the human and not diminishing the divine. For that self-emptying whereby the invisible rendered himself visible, and the Creator and Lord of all things chose to join the ranks of mortals, spelled no failure of power: it was an act of merciful favour. So the one who retained the form of God when he made humanity, was made man in the form of a servant. Each nature kept its proper character without loss; and just as the form of God does not take away the form of a servant, so the form of a servant does not detract from the form of God. (78)

The Son of God diminished in no way in the incarnation. In particular, he lost no power. This reading of the text is also the reading of Leo Davis in his book, The First Seven ecumenical councils (325–787): Their History and Theology (1990, 175): Though the Incarnation involved a self-emptying, this should be understood as a stooping down whereby the Word underwent no diminution of His omnipotence.

Sarah Coakley (2006, 247) says similarly that the patristic theologians, far from endorsing a Kenotic view wherein the Son gives up some divine attributes, “rarely consider the possibility of the questioning of divine impassibility or other cognate characteristics in the light of the Incarnation” (the emphasis is hers). Finally, Gregory Dunn (2001b) focuses on the work of Leo, and, in particular, his Christmas Homilies, which are useful for determining his meaning concerning predications in the Tome. Of them, Dunn (2001b, 81) writes: What we discover in these homilies is acknowledgment that impassibility is part of the nature of divinity, that Jesus was passible through his human nature, and that Jesus 14 Cf. van Inwagen (1998, sec. 3). See also Hud Hudson’s (2008) “Omnipresence.” Douglas Blount (2001, 242) also argues that omnipresence cannot be given up by God given the “Christian orthodoxy established at Chalcedon.”

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could be both impassible and passible at the same time without there being any contradiction.

Dunn reads Leo’s homilies as explicitly afﬁrming that the Son is passible and impassible at the same time. My reading of the passage from Leo, conﬁrmed by Coakley, Davis, and Dunn, is contrary to the teaching of Kenotic Christology. For, as C. Stephen Evans (2006a, 7) claims in his introduction to an edited volume on Kenotic Christology: [O]n the kenotic view, as we shall see, Jesus has no hidden divine powers in reserve, so to speak, to draw on in a pinch, but has chosen to endure the human situation in the same way that all of us must.

It is because of this that Thomas Senor (2011, 110) is mistaken when he says “For those of us who are less metaphysically scrupulous, however, there is no good reason to insist that the Son remained omnipotent when incarnated.” There is good reason, though, for Senor. The good reason is that Senor (2011, 89) “intend[s] to sketch an incarnational view with the goal of conforming to both scripture and the creeds and councils.” And so the passage from the Tome of Leo, itself a text accepted as authoritative at the council of Chalcedon and at later councils, which explicitly states that the Son does not diminish in power in the incarnation, is good reason to insist that the Son remained omnipotent when incarnated. Oliver Crisp (2007b, 120) writes similarly, if, in becoming incarnate, the Word relinquishes omniscience, say, or omnipotence (both common claims among ontological kenoticists), then in an important sense Christ is not “one and the same Son, the same perfect in Godhead and the same perfect in manhood, truly God and truly man”, as Chalcedon states.

This view, that Kenotic Christology falls short of Conciliar Christology, is shared by others. Van Inwagen writes (1998, sec. 3): “It is very doubtful whether Kenoticism can be reconciled with orthodoxy.” Francis Joseph Hall charges Kenoticism, in his classic attack, with an impressive litany of objections. He writes of his own book, discussing the theory of Kenoticism (1898, 2): In this book an effort is made to show that the theory in question is (a) a modern novelty: (b) contrary to the Faith of the Church: (c) rejected deliberately by Catholic doctors: (d) not warranted by the facts contained in the Gospels, or the statements of Holy Scripture: (e) fallacious in its reasoning: and (f) perilous in its logical results.

From the texts discussed in this section, and others like them, I conclude that, ﬁrst, Conciliar Christology does not allow for the divine nature of the Second Person to change when becoming incarnate. And second, that the Conciliar texts explicitly report that while incarnate Christ was not diminished in power and he still ﬁlled creation: that is, he was still omnipotent and still omnipresent. Even if some Candidate divine predicates could be shed in the incarnation, not all of them could be, and so The Response of Denying the Predicates “at the same time” does not sufﬁciently answer the Problem. One might reason like this: 7. If Conciliar Christology teaches that Candidate pairs are predicated of Christ at the same time, then denying (i) of Incompatible Predications is insufﬁcient to solve the Problem.

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8. Conciliar Christology does teach that Candidate pairs are predicated of Christ at the same time. 9. Denying (i) of Incompatible Predications is insufﬁcient to solve the Problem (From 7, 8).

Premise 7 is true, since this Response from Denying “at the same time,” the response of denying (i) of Incompatible Predications, would be sufﬁcient only if no Candidate pairs are apt of Christ at the same time. Were Conciliar Christology to teach that some Candidate pairs are apt of Christ at the same time, then we would need some other way, besides The Response of Denying “at the same time,” to account for those. And, were we to need another way to account for those Candidate pairs, the Response of Denying “at the same time” would not be sufﬁcient to solve the Problem. Premise 8 is true, given the quotations from Ephesus and Chalcedon, in which Christ is claimed to retain some divine Candidate predicates during the incarnation. As Gerald O’Collins (2002, 62) notes, the claim that the Son gave up some features, such as omnipotence, or omniscience, when becoming man runs afoul to this conciliar claim. Thus, The Response of Denying “at the same time” is not sufﬁcient to answer the Problem for the proponent of Conciliar Christology.

V.b.3. A Final Formulation of the Argument Here is a ﬁnal way of putting the argument against the consistency of Kenotic theory and Conciliar Christology. First, I draw a distinction that Oliver Crisp helpfully draws. He distinguishes two types of Kenotic theory: Ontological Kenoticism:

Functional Kenoticism:

“in the Incarnation, the Word abdicates certain divine properties, perhaps for the duration of the Incarnation, perhaps from the Incarnation onward, at all subsequent moments in time.” (Crisp 2007b, 119) “the Incarnation involves the Word not exercising certain divine properties for a period of time, typically . . . the period spanning the virginal conception of Christ to his ascension.” (Crisp 2007b, 120)

In what follows, I will assume, along with Crisp, that all versions of Kenoticism are some variety of either Ontological or Functional Kenoticim. The argument goes as follows: 10. If Kenotic Christology is consistent with Conciliar Christology, then either Ontological Kenoticism is consistent with Conciliar Christology, or Functional Kenoticism is consistent with Conciliar Christology (Assume). 11. If Ontological Kenoticism is consistent with Conciliar Christology, then Conciliar Christology does not teach that the Word is strongly immutable (From the deﬁnition of Ontological Kenoticism). 12. Conciliar Christology does teach that the Word is strongly immutable (from the argument of Section V.b.1). 13. It is false that Ontological Kenoticism is consistent with Conciliar Christology (11, 12). 14. If Functional Kenoticism is consistent with Conciliar Christology, then Conciliar Christology does not teach that the Word continues exercising the supposedly abdicated powers during the incarnation (From the deﬁnition of Functional Kenoticism).

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15. Conciliar Christology does teach that the Word continues exercising the supposedly abdicated powers during the incarnation (From the argument of Section V.b.2). 16. It is false that Functional Kenoticism is consistent with Conciliar Christology (14, 15). 17. Thus, it is false that Kenotic Christology is consistent with Conciliar Christology (10, 13, 16).

Given my assumption that the Ontological and Functional variants of Kenoticism exhaust its live possibilities, 10 follows. 11 and 14, the other two conditional premises of the argument, are true, given the deﬁnitions of Ontological and Functional Kenoticism. Section V.b.1 is an extended argument in favor of Premise 12, and Section V.b.2 is an extended argument for Premise 15. Step 13 follows from 11 and 12; Step 16 follows from 14 and 15, both by Modus Tollens. The conclusion, Step 17, follows from 10, 13, and 16, by a variant of Modus Tollens. Thus, Step 17 is true. For those reasons, I take Kenotic Christology to be inconsistent with Conciliar Christology, contrary to the claims of its proponents, such as Stephen T. Davis, C. Stephen Evans, and Thomas Senor. We have already seen the relevant passages from Senor in this section. C. Stephen Evans (2006a, 5) claims of the contributors to his edited volume on Kenotic Christology “none of us would lightly differ with the ancient ecumenical creeds of the Church. He also claims (Evans 2006b, 195) that Kenotic Christology is “one particular way of trying to make sense of the Incarnation and remain within the boundaries of orthodox Christian belief.” Moreover, Stephen Davis (2011, 116) claims “I am suggesting a kenotic theory as a way of interpreting Chalcedon.” Elsewhere, Davis (2006) argues that Kenotic Christology is consistent with Chalcedonian Orthodoxy; he writes: “Kenosis may be mistaken as a Christological theory; maybe there are better Christological theories in the neighbourhood; but kenosis is orthodox” (S. T. Davis 2006, 135). If I am right about the teachings of Chalcedon, these thinkers are all wrong on this point. Let me note here that the only judgment I am making about Kenotic Christology is that it is inconsistent with Conciliar Christology, as I have deﬁned the term. I am not here claiming that it is false, or pernicious, or heretical, or making any other negative evaluation. Hall’s above litany of lamentations concerning Kenoticism far outstrips my own conclusions here.

V.c. Kenoticism and the Exaltation In addition to the proceeding reasons for denying the compatibility of Kenotic Christology and Conciliar Christology, there is a ﬁnal reason that The Response of Denying “at the same time” is insufﬁcient to answer the Problem. This reason comes from another doctrine, not to my knowledge part of Conciliar Christology, as I have deﬁned the term, but which is common to many in the Christian tradition. That doctrine is the doctrine of exaltation, according to which Christ, who remains incarnate forevermore, ceases self-emptying at some point after the cruciﬁxion. Were he to regain his heavenly majesty, the question would arise: at that point, are both members of any Candidate pair apt of him?

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If both members of a Candidate pair are apt of Christ post-exaltation, then Kenotic Christology is not sufﬁcient to answer the Problem. For, even supposing Kenoticism provides an adequate answer to the Problem during Jesus’s earthly ministry, it still says nothing about the age to come, and the predicates that are apt of Christ in that age.15 At least some human predicates will remain true of Christ post-exaltation. Unless he is incarnate but entirely metaphysically frozen, he will presumably be able to move, to be affected, to eat, etc. (whether or not he actually chooses to eat). If Christ regains his divine predicates in the exaltation and they are inconsistent with the human predicates, as we are assuming, then the Problem is not solved. If they are made consistent by some other story (e.g. he has some qua human, and others qua divine), then The Response of Denying the Predicates “at the same time,” or at least the most prominent form of this response, the Kenotic theory, will not be sufﬁcient, on its own, to answer the Problem. This question about Kenoticism’s ability to solve the Problem due to the doctrine of the exaltation is no surprise to Kenotic theorists. Stephen Davis (2011, 118) and Peter Forrest (2009, 232–3), both careful Kenotic thinkers, discuss the ramiﬁcations of the exaltation for Kenotic Christology. As Davis (2011, 132) says, calling the Problem the “contradiction charge,” “kenosis is not adopted primarily (at least by me) as a means of overcoming the contradiction charge.” Though Ronald Feenstra (2006, 142), pushing in the other direction, asks of Christ: Is he both impassible and passible? As will be seen below, concern over apparent incompatibilities such as this are a motivating factor for kenotic Christology.

Any Kenoticist who is also a proponent of the exaltation will need to supplement his or her answer to the Problem with another response.

VI. CONCLUSION In this chapter I have argued that three answers to the Fundamental Problem fail to solve the Problem. They fail because Conciliar Christology entails that both members of at least one Candidate pair are apt of Christ at the same time. The quotations I have provided in this chapter provide evidence that the fathers predicate the following Candidate pairs of Christ: incapable of death/capable of death; invisible/visible; incomprehensible/comprehensible; unlimited/limited; incapable of suffering/capable of suffering; inexpressible in writing/expressible in writing. And so the proponent of Conciliar Christology cannot say that any of these predicates are never apt of Christ. It follows from this that neither The Response of Denying the Human Candidate Predicates of Christ nor The Response of Denying the Divine Candidate Predicates of Christ, alone or together, is sufﬁcient to answer the Problem.

15 See Jonathan Hill (2012) and Richard Sturch (1991, 27) for more on exaltation and Christological argumentation.

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One might say that while both Candidate predicates of certain Candidate pairs are apt of Christ, they are apt at different times, and hence there is no case in which they are apt of Christ at the same time, in the same way. But this move is inconsistent with Conciliar Christology as well. Conciliar Christology requires that what is divine in the Son not change, and so, if Christ is once, say, impassible, and this in virtue of his divine nature, he is always impassible. Furthermore, the main scriptural motivation for thinking that Christ does lose some of his impressive attributes in the incarnation is the self-emptying passage from Philippians. But the interpretation that reads the self-emptying as a giving up of properties is inconsistent with the reading of those passages from Cyril and Leo, afﬁrmed by the Councils, that claim that in the self-emptying there is no diminishment of the divine. But to lose such impressive properties is some sort of diminishment. Finally, Cyril and Leo consider some properties which the Kenotic thinkers claim Christ gives up in the incarnation; for example, omnipresence and omnipotence. They claim that, even while incarnate, Christ remains omnipresent and omnipotent. In addition, using Kenoticism alone to answer the Fundamental Problem will require the denial of the doctrine of the exaltation of Christ, which is no small price to pay. Thus, Conciliar Christology requires one to claim that the members of at least one Candidate pair are both apt of Christ, and, furthermore, that they are both apt of Christ at the same time. And thus, to conclude the chapter, all three responses discussed in this chapter fail as a full answer to the Fundamental Problem. It might well be that these responses are useful to cull the list of Candidate pairs. But it will not be the case, given Conciliar Christology, that these three responses succeed at eliminating all Candidate pairs.16

16 I thank the Notre Dame Center for Philosophy of Religion discussion group, the audience at the LA Theology session where I gave a truncated version of this paper, the audience at the 8th Annual Baylor Conference on Philosophy of religion, Matthews Grant, and Mark Spencer for valuable comments on this chapter.

6 Denying “In the Same Way” I . I N T RO D U C T I O N In this chapter I present another set of possible responses to the Fundamental Problem.1 These responses, like the responses in the previous chapter, focus on denying the premise of the Problem that I have called Incompatible Predications: Incompatible Predications: There are some predicates that fulﬁll the following conditions: (i) at the same time, (ii) in the same sense, (iii) they must be aptly predicated of anything possessing a divine nature, but (iv) their complements must be aptly predicated of anything possessing a human nature. Recall the state of the dialectic at this point. In Chapter 5, I assessed whether a proponent of Conciliar Christology could claim that, while the Candidate predicates are incompatible, they are not both apt of Christ, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, or not both apt of him at the same time. I claimed that none of these responses, either singulatim or in unison, solve the Fundamental Problem for Conciliar Christology. I have argued that if one takes the Candidate pairs to be incompatible if said of the same thing at the same time in the same way, then denying (i), (iii), and (iv) of Incompatible Predications, either alone or together, is insufﬁcient to answer the Problem. The proponent of Conciliar Christology who grants the incompatibility of the Candidate predicates when said of the same thing at the same time in the same sense must turn her sights to denying (ii) of Incompatible Predications. Since, according to the proponent of the strategies presented in this chapter, conjunct (ii) is false, the whole conjunction is false. And so, for said proponent, she can grant that were she to accept all three assumptions of the Problem (e.g. Conciliar Christology, Incompatible Predications, and No Complementary Predicates), she would in fact be stuck in a contradiction. But, she may continue, she does not grant all three. She explicitly denies one of them. And so, on her view, it has yet to be shown that Conciliar Christology is incoherent.

1 The presentation of the “qua” strategies in this chapter draws from my Pawl (2016). In this chapter, and unlike that article, I assess the viability of these strategies. In that article my focus is on presenting an isomorphism between the Fundamental Problem (which I there call the Problem of Natural Intrinsics) and the Problem of Temporary Intrinsics in contemporary analytic metaphysics.

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Here is how I presented the ways in which one might deny (ii) in Chapter 4, Section V: The Response of Denying “in the same sense.” 4. The Response of Modifying the Assertion (A). 5. The Response of Modifying the Subject (S). The Response of Modifying the Predicate (P). 6. The Response of Non-Substitutional Predicate Modifying (NSP). 7. The Response of Substitutional Predicate Modifying (SP). The Response of Modifying the Copula (C). 8. The Response of Non-Substitutional Copula Modifying (NSC). 9. The Response of Substitutional Copula Modifying (SC).

In what follows I will consider these responses in this order. I will argue that the (A) response fails to avoid the contradiction; response (S) succeeds at avoiding the contradiction only by contradicting Conciliar Christology elsewhere; (NSP) succeeds at avoiding the contradiction but has theological or philosophical consequences many would ﬁnd unpalatable; (NSC) likewise has unsavory theological and philosophical consequences. I conclude that the (SP) and (SC) responses are viable, but have their own associated costs, which I elaborate in Sections V.b. and VI.b.

II. TH E “Q U A” M O V E Use of the “qua” move is rife in the councils. As Cyril says in his Second Letter to Nestorius: we say that he suffered and rose again, not that the Word of God suffered blows or piercings with nails or any other wounds in his own nature (for the divine, being without body, is incapable of suffering); but because the body which became his own suffered these things, he is said to have suffered them for us . . . The Word is said to have suffered death for us, not as if he himself had experienced death as far as his own nature was concerned (it would be sheer lunacy to say or to think that), but because, as I have just said, his ﬂesh tasted death. (Tanner 1990, 42)

It is truthfully said that “The Word suffered” and “The Word suffered death.” These claims are true because the concrete human nature (that is, the body-soul composite) that the Word assumed in the incarnation suffered. And they are not true—indeed, they cannot be true, given the parenthetical claims in the text— because the divine nature suffered. It is secundum (or “qua,” as people say now) the assumed human nature that Christ suffers, and secundum the divine nature that he is incapable of suffering. This method of distinguishing predications according to nature is also used elsewhere in the councils. For instance, in their Formula of Union, the fathers at Ephesus say: As to the evangelical and apostolic expressions about the Lord, we know that theologians treat some in common as of one person and distinguish others as of two natures, and interpret the god-beﬁtting ones in connexion with [secundum] the godhead of Christ and the lowly ones with his humanity. (70)

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One God-beﬁtting predicate is “impassible.” One lowly predicate is “passible.” So while both are apt of Christ, there is a sense in which they are both apt in different ways, according to different natures. For a ﬁnal example of such expressions, one can look to the Third Council of Constantinople’s claim concerning Christ’s nativities: begotten before the ages from the Father as regards his divinity, and in the last days the same for us and for our salvation from the holy Spirit and the virgin Mary, who is properly and truly called the mother of God, as regards his humanity. (127)

While it is true that “Christ is begotten before the ages,” it is true according to his divine nature, and not his human nature. And while it is true that “Christ is begotten of the virgin Mary,” it is true according to his human nature and not his divine nature. From these three examples, and many more like them in the conciliar statements, I think it clear that the fathers thought that this “qua” move was useful. One thing it looks useful for is somehow modifying a predication to the right nature, so that one doesn’t utter “sheer lunacy,” as Cyril termed it. The lunacy looks to be due to predicating a predicate of a subject which could not possibly be aptly predicated by that term: for instance, according to Cyril, that Christ experienced death in his divine nature. So at least one thing the fathers attempted to do with “qua” clauses was to ward off logical or predicative problems. We might well try, as many in the hall of theological fame have tried, to use such “qua” clauses to solve the Problem.2 These “qua” (or secundum) clauses face real difﬁculties. Thomas Morris (1987, 48–9) writes, in an oft-quoted passage about the problems with “qua” clauses: Consider any conjunctive reduplicative proposition of the form ˹x as A is N and x as B is not N.˺ If the subjects of both conjuncts are the same and the substituends of N are univocal across the conjunction, then as long as (1) the reduplication predicates being A of x and predicates being B of x, and (2) being N is entailed by being A, and not being N is entailed by being B, then the reduplicative form of predication accomplishes nothing except for muddying the waters, since in the end the contradiction stands of x being characterized as both N and not N.

And Peter van Inwagen (1998, sec. 4) asks similarly: Where F and G are incompatible properties, and K1 and K2 are “kinds”, what does it mean to say of something that it is F qua K1 but G qua K2?—or that it is F qua K1 but is not F qua K2? And can any more or less uncontroversial examples of such pairs of statements be found?

Finally, Richard Holland (2012, 174) writes that The qua move as an explanation for how the classical atemporal model accounts for the Incarnation is not an acceptable option for anyone desiring to preserve both Chalcedonian orthodoxy and the law of non-contradiction.

2 In addition to the other sources cited throughout this chapter, see (Geach 1977, 25–8), where he both rejects the (S) theory discussed below and calls for the sort of careful logical work that I do in the next chapter. See also Robert Herbert (1979, chap. 4) and Richard Swinburne (1994, 197–9).

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He goes on to extend his critique to any qua strategy in saying that “Christ cannot be both A and not-A; and reduplicative predicates cannot be employed to avoid this” (2012, 175). An important thing to note in these three discussions is that they all assume that the predicates in question are incompatible: Morris writes of the contradiction standing between “N and not N”; van Inwagen talks of the “incompatible properties” F and G; Holland writes of the predicates “A and not-A.” In this chapter, for the sake of the dialectic, I grant that assumption, and so will write as if the predicates “passible” and “impassible,” “mutable” and “immutable,” etc., are incompatible with one another. In the next chapter, however, I go on to question this assumption and work out a theory on which the candidate pairs are, in fact, consistent in certain circumstances. These three quotations seem to me to be fair responses to “qua” claims if there is no helpful analysis of them in place. The claims have the appearance of verbal chicanery, as if they were an incantation to ward off incarnational contradiction. In the remainder of this chapter, I will make explicit six different ways to understand the “qua” claims made in the conciliar texts and elsewhere in the tradition.3 Part of the difﬁculty for “qua” moves is explaining how such clauses work, metaphysically speaking. According to Conciliar Christology, it is true to say “Christ is passible,” but it is also true to say “Christ is impassible.” How could this be? Consider the qua claims put forward to resolve the problem: I. II.

Christ qua human is passible (C qua H is P). Christ qua divine is impassible (C qua D is non-P).4

One wants to know: what, exactly, is the “qua N” modiﬁer doing in these sentences? What is modiﬁed? Is it the same subject in both claims? Is it the same predicate in both claims? If the same subject and the same predicate, how is this a means of avoiding contradiction? As Morris notes, it seems not to be. But if the contradiction is not avoided, then the “qua” clauses are no help for the opponent of the Problem. Here are four ways to understand how the “qua N” locution works. It could modify the whole predication (the whole assertion, “C is P”), it could modify the subject alone, it could modify the predicate alone, or it could modify the copula binding the subject to the predicate.5 We can represent the four ways as follows, hyphenating the qua modiﬁer into the relevant parts of the predication in the last three options:6 For an excellent study of “qua” claims, see Bäck (1997). In this chapter I understand impassibility to be the complement of passibility. This is because I am here assuming the incompatibility of the predicates. In Chapter 7, I deny this assumption. There I do not understand passibility and impassibility as “P” and “non-P.” See especially Sections II.d. and III of Chapter 7. 5 Other authors have discussed these ﬁrst three ways of understanding qua-clauses. Senor (2002, 229–33) attacks all three, while Marilyn McCord Adams (2009, 253–60) and Allan Bäck (1998) defend a modiﬁed Predicate understanding of qua-clauses. Elsewhere (Pawl 2016), I present these options for the sake of showing a tight analogy between the Fundamental Problem and the Problem of Temporary Intrinsics. 6 I get the idea for hyphenating like this from E. J. Lowe (2002, 43–9). 3 4

Denying “In the Same Way” Assertion (A): Subject (S): Predicate (P): Copula (C):

Qua H, C is P C-qua-H is P C is P-qua-H C is-qua-H P

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Qua D, C is P C-qua-D is P C is P-qua-D C is-qua-D P.

I know of nowhere in the contemporary literature on the incarnation where someone discusses the fourth option—modifying the copula—but this method of modifying a proposition is familiar in other literatures.7 I think it bears fruit in this discussion as well. But before I get there, I will address the ﬁrst three, better known, responses. Before I address the four responses, though, I will note a problem that they all must avoid. Recall that at this point of the dialectic, ﬁrst, we are assuming, along with Morris, van Inwagen, and Holland, that at least some Candidate pairs are incompatible if said of the same thing at the same time in the same way. If they were not incompatible when said of the same thing at the same time in the same way, then we would have no need to consider the responses presented in this and the previous chapter. Furthermore, we are assuming, secondly, as was proven in the previous chapter (Section V.b.2) that there are at least some Candidate pairs that Conciliar Christology entails to be apt of the one person, Jesus Christ, at the same time. If there were no Candidate pairs that Conciliar Christology requires to be apt of the one person, Jesus Christ, at the same time, then we would have no need to qua-modify the predications as an answer to the Problem: a Kenotic theory would be sufﬁcient to do the job. In light of these two assumptions, one must be wary of the inference that Allan Bäck (1998, 85) calls secundum quid ad simpliciter; that is, the inference from the qua-modiﬁed predication (e.g. “C qua H is P”) to the unmodiﬁed predication (e.g. “C is P”) where the terms are used univocally across the two predications. For, in such a case, if both qua-modiﬁed predications of a Candidate pair allow for the secundum quid ad simpliciter inference, then the contradiction remains. In such a case, from “C qua H is P” we can derive “C is P.” Likewise, from “C qua D is non-P” we can derive “C is non-P.” And since we are assuming in this chapter for argument’s sake the incompatibility of P and non-P, we have derived a contradiction, given the assumption of the validity of the secundum quid ad simpliciter inference. I take this to be the brunt of Morris’s attack on reduplicative propositions. I will take it as a necessary condition of a successful qua-response to the Problem that it not allow the secundum quid ad simpliciter inference.

I I I . M OD I F Y I N G T H E A S S E R T I O N ( A ) The ﬁrst way of understanding the qua-clause is to read it as modifying the whole assertion. In this section I present the only (A) method of “qua” modifying of 7 For instances of adverbial modifying in other philosophical discussions, see Lowe (2002, 46–51) and Bradley Rettler (2012). For a different variety of adverbial view in the Christological debate, see Bohn (2012).

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which I am aware (Section III.a.), then provide an objection to it (Section III.b.). I conclude the section by discussing the similarities and differences between the (A) understanding of “qua”-clauses and a related understanding of “qua” clauses (Section III.c.).

III.a. The (A) Method Presented According to his human nature, Christ is passible; according to his divine nature, Christ is impassible. Here, the “qua” functions as a tool for noting that nature in virtue of which a certain predicate is apt of Christ. It is in virtue of his human nature that he is passible; it is in virtue of his divine nature that he is impassible. In the truthmaker language I used in Chapter 3, Section III, the truthmaker for the claim “Christ is passible” is his human nature (and perhaps other created metaphysical components along with that nature). The truthmaker for “Christ is impassible” is the divine nature. This is the common way that the “qua” is understood to modify the whole assertion, so it is how I will understand the modiﬁcation in what follows. If there is another way of understanding the “qua” in an (A) way, one of which I am unaware, that way might avoid the forthcoming objection.

III.b. The (A) Method Fails The main problem pointed out in the literature concerning the ﬁrst way of reading “qua” is that it doesn’t insulate against complementary predications being true of Christ.8 If the “qua” merely tells us in virtue of what it is that the thing is a certain way, then the thing’s being that certain way follows. If “Christ qua human is passible” merely tells us that it is in virtue of being human that he is passible, then it follows that “Christ is passible.” Likewise, it would follow from “Christ qua divine is impassible” that “Christ is impassible.” But then the qua-clause doesn’t give us any way to get these two predications true in difference senses, which is what we need to avoid the contradiction in the Problem. If the predicates are incompatible (as assumed), and apt of the same person at the same time (as assumed), then, if they are true in the same sense, premise 6 of the Problem is true. And I have argued in the previous paragraph that they are not true in different senses on this (A) reading. Recall the Premise 6 of the Fundamental Problem states that “there is some object, Christ, and some predicate, P, such that both P and P’s complement are aptly predicated of him at the same time, in the same way.” But then, given the truth of No Complementary Predications, the contradiction at 7 follows. Thus, the (A) reading is not the reading to employ in this Christological debate. Put otherwise, one might argue like this:

8 See, for instance, Adams (2009, 254–5); Bäck (1998, 84–7); Cross (2005, 193–5; 2011, 455–6); Morris (1987, 48–9); and Senor (2002, 229).

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1. If, on a particular “qua”-theory, a “qua” modiﬁed proposition entails the nonmodiﬁed proposition—that is, if the “qua theory allows the secundum quid ad simpliciter inference, then the theory fails at solving the Problem. 2. On the (A) theory, a “qua” modiﬁed proposition entails the non-modiﬁed proposition. 3. Thus, the (A) theory fails at solving the Problem (1, 2).

I have provided reasoning in support of Premise 1 at the end of Section II. In this section, I provided reasoning in support of Premise 2. Thus, 3 follows.

III.c. The (A) Understanding of “Qua” Without the (A) Response to the Problem One might read the “qua”-clauses in the councils in the same way the (A) theorist reads them here, yet not respond to the Problem with an (A)-theoretic response. Reading “qua”-clauses as pointing out that in virtue of which the predicate is apt of the subject ﬁts naturally with the response I will discuss in Chapter 7, where I provide a way of denying the incompatibility of the Candidate predicates. Consider an example. According to one way of understanding the response that denies the incompatibility of the Candidate predicates, the predicate, “passible” is apt of something just in case that thing has a nature that it is possible that other things causally affect. Suppose that this understanding of “passible” is correct, and now consider how one might understand “qua” clauses. Reading the “qua” in an (A) way would be reading it such that its job is to point to the nature in virtue of which a predicate is apt of the subject. So when we say “Christ is passible qua human,” we are pointing to the nature in virtue of which it is true to say of him “he has a nature that it is possible that other things causally affect.” Which nature? The human nature, as the “qua” clause tells us. The inference from secundum quid ad simpliciter is a perfectly legitimate inference according to this response to the Problem. Christ is impassible qua divine entails that he is impassible full stop. And Christ is passible qua human entails that he is passible full stop. But both these predicates can be aptly said of one thing at the same time, since to be passible full stop is to have a nature that can be affected; and to be impassible full stop is to have a nature such that it is not the case that it can be affected. Christ fulﬁlls both those conditions. And so, on this understanding of the predicates in play, no contradiction is derivable. Understanding “qua” in this way—as a means of pointing to the thing in virtue of which the predicate is apt of the object it is predicated of—is helpful in solving the Problem only if the simpliciter propositions are not incompatible. Since the simpliciter propositions are incompatible on the (A) method of responding to the Problem, this understanding of the “qua” is not useful in solving the Problem. Perhaps better to conclude in the following way: Unless the (A) theorist can provide some new way of understanding the modiﬁcation to the whole assertion, this understanding of the “qua” is not useful in solving the Problem. The entirety of the next chapter discusses this strategy.

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In Defense of Conciliar Christology I V. M OD I F YI NG T HE S U BJ EC T ( S )

In this section, I will present the (S) method of “qua” modiﬁcation (Section IV.a.) then argue that it fails to solve the Problem for Conciliar Christology (Section IV.b.).

IV.a. The (S) Method Presented Consider this passage from the Catechism of the Council of Trent (1982, 38), which is not itself part of Conciliar Christology: Of our Saviour many things are recorded in Sacred Scripture. Some of these, it is evident, apply to Him as God and some as man, because from His two natures He received the different properties which belong to both. Hence we say with truth that Christ is Almighty, Eternal, Inﬁnite, and these attributes He has from His Divine Nature; again, we say of Him that He suffered, died, and rose again, which are properties manifestly that belong to His human nature. Besides these terms, there are others common to both natures; as when in this Article of the Creed we say our Lord.

The Catechism claims that some properties belong to the human nature, others to the divine nature, and that Christ, the person, has some properties from one nature, others from the other, and ﬁnally some due to both. One way of spelling out how this works is the following “qua” theory.9 In the (S) method, we understand the “qua human” modiﬁer as modifying the subject of the predication. When we say “Christ is passible qua man” we are really saying that there is a subject, Christ-qua-human, and that subject is aptly predicated by the predicate “passible.” Likewise, when we say “Christ is impassible qua divine” we are really saying that there is a subject, Christ-qua-divine, and that subject is aptly predicated by the predicate “impassible.” And likewise for other cases. The seems to be the view of T. W. Bartel (1995, 158), who writes that “Jesus qua divine deliberately refused to reveal to Jesus qua human that he could not have chosen to worship Satan.” Also, Richard Sturch (1991, 152) seems drawn to it when he writes “Part of Christ, the eternal Logos, existed before the days of Herod; part of Him, the Galilean carpenter, did not. Part of Him knew all things; part did not. And so on.” Both these authors predicate the relevant terms of the parts of Christ. Given the (S) theory as I have spelled it out, premises 3 and 4 of the Problem change. They should say, instead: 3*. P is aptly predicated of Christ-qua-divine. 4*. The complement of P is aptly predicated of Christ-qua-human.

9 See Adams (2009, 255–6); Bäck (1998, 86); Cross (2005, 195–9; 2011, 456); and Senor (2002, 229–30).

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Given these newly-revised predications, we need some evidence for claiming that the same thing is both P and its complement. For here, in the revised premises, the subjects of the predicates are not obviously the same thing. In order to avoid contradiction at step 7, the (S) response has to claim that Christ-qua-divine is not identical with Christ-qua-human. For, were they the very same thing, we could substitute in one name for the other in 3* or 4* and yield that the very same thing is both P and P’s complement. This would be to afﬁrm the truth of 6, which, together with No Complementary Predications, entails a contradiction. And so, to save Christology from the Problem, this reading of “qua”-clauses has to say that it is two different things that are passible and impassible. The standard thing to say at this juncture is that the two things are the divine and human natures: Christ-qua-human names Christ’s human nature, and Christ-qua-divine names Christ’s divine nature. The (S) theorist can attempt to assuage the worries that might arise at there being two distinct subjects here. She can still say that “Christ is passible” is true, even if it is Christ-qua-human, and not Christ (simpliciter) that is passible, provided that we understand the claim to have a tacit reference to the nature in it. That is, provided we understand “Christ is passible” to be shorthand for saying “Christ-qua-human is passible,” we can afﬁrm its truth. And so, says the proponent of the (S) theory, we can afﬁrm the statements of Conciliar Christology. If someone were to object that we should not be able to understand a claim such as “Christ is passible” as a tacitly modiﬁed claim, then that objector should rule out all other “qua” moves, as well as the response of denying “at the same time,” since all of these responses employ tacit modiﬁers in their interpretation of the nonmodiﬁed conciliar claims.

IV.b. The (S) Method Fails This (S) way of reading the “qua”-clauses does not fall prey to the same objection that sunk the (A) way. For, if the (S) way is right, while we have a predicate and another incompatible predicate aptly predicated, they are not aptly predicated of the same thing. Rather, it is Christ-qua-human that is passible, and it is Christ-qua-divine that is impassible. Provided, as stated in Section IV.a. above, that Christ-qua-divine is not identical to Christ-quahuman, the inferences to Premises 5 and 6 of the Problem are unmotivated. And so the (S) method does not allow the deduction of the contradiction at Premise 7, unlike the (A) method. As said, this solution avoids the problem raised for (A); but it still fails. The very move that saves it from the derivation of Steps 5 and 6 sets it in tension with Conciliar Christology. If Christ-qua-divine is not the same thing as Christ-quahuman, then the predicates aptly predicated of Christ according to his human nature are not predicated to one and the same thing as the predicates aptly predicated of Christ according to his divine nature. But, Conciliar Christology entails that the predicates aptly predicated of Christ according to his human nature are predicated to one and the same thing as the predicates aptly predicated of Christ according to his divine nature.

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Consider the following exhaustive disjunction, which we can call the predication disjunction: Either the predicates aptly predicated of Christ according to the human nature are predicated to one and the same thing as the predicates aptly predicated of Christ according to the divine nature, or they are not.

Let the ﬁrst disjunct of the disjunction be symbolized with an “A,” and the second (“or they are not”) with “A.” One might reason as follows: 4. If the (S) theory of “qua” modifying is the correct way to understand “qua” clauses, then either A or A. 5. If A, then the (S) theory provides no means of avoiding the truth of Premises 5 and 6 of the Fundamental Problem. 6. If the (S) theory provides no means of avoiding the truth of Premises 5 and 6 of the Fundamental Problem, then the (S) theory does not solve the Fundamental Problem. 7. Thus, if A, then the (S) theory does not solve the Fundamental Problem. 8. If A, then the (S) theory entails the falsity of Conciliar Christology. 9. Thus, if the (S) theory of “qua” modifying is the correct way to understand “qua” clauses, it does not solve the Fundamental Problem or it entails the falsity of Conciliar Christology.

(Premise.) (Premise.) (Premise.)

(From 5 & 6, Hypothetical Syllogism.) (Premise.) (From 4, 7, & 8.)10

Call this argument the Subject Dilemma. Marilyn McCord Adams (2009, 248–9) sets out a similar problem under the heading “The Contradiction Problem.” She says of it: [I]t might seem that Christology is trapped in a dilemma: either the Divine Word and the human nature are united enough for characterization—in which case the Divine Word is the subject of contradictory properties simultaneously, or they aren’t united enough for characterization—in which case Nestorianism seems to follow. (Adams 2009, 253)

Consider the premises of the Subject Dilemma. Premise 4 of the Subject Dilemma states that if the (S) theory is true, then an exhaustive disjunction is true. The exhaustive disjunction is true no matter what, being of the form A or A. Since the consequent of the conditional is true, the whole conditional is true. And so, 4 is true. The (S) theory, as already explained, works by claiming that while the predicates are inconsistent in predications such as “Christ is impassible” and “Christ is passible,” the subjects are different, and so the predications are not true in the same sense. The sense is different insofar as the subject term, “Christ,” names something different in both predications. But now suppose that, even though “Christ” names something different in each predication, there was still one thing,

10 The inference to 9 is as follows: if S, then (A or A); If A, then C; If A, then D; thus, if S, then (C or D). This is a valid inference form, but it has no name. I could elongate the proof so to make the deductive inference forms all forms that have been named by logicians, but doing so would bring little beneﬁt, I think. If this causes the reader to lament, I reply as follows. Let the logical form instanced after the colon of the ﬁrst sentence of this note be named “Wanda.” Now let the parenthetical in step 9 of the Subject Dilemma read: (From 4, 7, and 8, Wanda).

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say, Christ simpliciter, of which both predicates were apt. Were both predicates still apt of that one thing, then this response will have provided no means by which to say the predicates are apt of things in different senses. For the work of providing different senses was done, on this (S) response, by providing different subjects, and we have already exhausted that option at this point. If the predicates are both still apt of Christ simpliciter, the (S) move is out of different senses in which the predications are true. This is why, as I argued in Section IV.a., the (S) theorist must say that two different subjects are being predicated by these predicates. And so if the predicates aptly predicated of Christ according to the human nature are predicated to one and the same thing as the predicates aptly predicated of Christ according to the divine nature, then the (S) theory provides no means of avoiding one thing being predicated by apparently inconsistent predicates. But if the (S) theory provides no means of avoiding one thing being predicated by apparently inconsistent predicates, then the (S) theory provides no means of avoiding the truth of Premises 5 and 6 of the Fundamental Problem. Thus, Premise 5 of the Subject Dilemma is true. Premise 6 of the Subject Dilemma is true, as we can see from the following. The (S) method attempts to avoid the contradiction at Premise 7 of the Fundamental Problem. It can do this by showing the falsity or lack of motivation for one or the other of the two conjuncts of the contradiction arrived at in the Fundamental Problem: 6 and No Complementary Predications. (S) does not target No Complementary Predications. So it will succeed only if it can show the falsehood or lack of motivation for Premise 6 of the Fundamental Problem. Premise 6 of the Fundamental Problem is a restatement of Premise 5 of the Fundamental Problem. Thus, (S) succeeds only if it shows the falsehood or lack of motivation for both Premises 5 and 6 of the Fundamental Problem. The previous sentence, contraposed, reads: If the (S) theory does not show the falsehood or lack of motivation for Premises 5 and 6 of the Fundamental Problem, then the (S) theory does not succeed at solving the Fundamental Problem. That is, Premise 6 of the Subject Dilemma is true. Premise 8 of the subject Dilemma claims that if it is false that the divine and human Candidate predicates are apt of the same thing, then Conciliar Christology is false. But why think such a thing? I provided evidence for this claim concerning the content of Conciliar Christology in Chapter 5 (Section V). In this chapter I will include additional reasons for thinking that it is one and the same thing that is, according to Conciliar Christology, predicated by the Candidate predicates. Pope Leo states in his Tome to Flavian that To pay off the debt of our state, invulnerable [inviolabilis] nature was united to a nature that could suffer [passibili]; so that in a way that corresponded to the remedies we needed, one and the same mediator between God and humanity, the man Christ Jesus, could both on the one hand die and on the other be incapable of death [et mori posset ex uno et mori non posset ex altero]. (78; italics of English words in original)

It is one man, Jesus Christ, who is both capable and incapable of death. And so one thing is predicated by the Candidate predicates “capable of death” and “incapable of death.” The council fathers at Ephesus say: For the one and only Christ is not dual, even though he be considered to be from two distinct realities, brought together into an unbreakable union. In the same sort of way a human being, though he be composed of soul and body, is considered to be not dual,

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but rather one out of two. Therefore, in thinking rightly, we refer both the human and divine expressions to the same person. (55, italics added)

One ﬁnal example from the Exposition of faith at the Third Council of Constantinople: [W]e acknowledge that the miracles and the sufferings are of one and the same, according to one or the other of the two natures out of which he is and in which he has his being, as the admirable Cyril said. (129)

The divine and human expressions both said of the one Christ are apt of him according to (secundum), or “qua” his divine or human nature. Conciliar Christology requires that we refer both the predicates apt of Christ in virtue of his human nature and the predicates apt of Christ in virtue of his divine nature to “the one and only Christ.” But then, even if it is “Christ-qua-human” that is subject to one predicate, and “Christ-qua-divine” that is subject to the other, we still must refer both predicates to the same person, Christ simpliciter. As Stephen Hipp (2001, 60) notes of the condemnation of Nestorius: [T]he formal condemnation of the Council of Ephesus in 431 was entirely appurtenant for what concerns Nestorius’ refusal of the exchange of predicates with respect, in particular, to his human generation.

What got Nestorius in trouble was the claim that the (S) theorist must make: that the predications do not spread from the human nature to the divine person. I take these three quotations from the Conciliar texts to show the following: The one person, Christ, is the proper subject of multiple predicates, even apparently inconsistent predicates, such as “incapable of death” and “capable of death.” That one person is aptly predicated by the expressions apt of Christ qua his human nature, and the same one person is aptly predicated by the expressions apt of Christ qua his divine nature. So Conciliar Christology requires that the predications made of Christ according to either nature be predicated of one and the same person. Relatedly, Robert Jenson says of a different Conciliar statement, which claims that the Son suffered in the ﬂesh that: [I]t is indeed important that the sentence ends with “in the ﬂesh,” but this adverbial phrase—adverbial also in the Greek—does not displace the subject-object relation: with or without “in the ﬂesh” the subject of “suffered” is God the Son/Logos. (Jenson 2009, 119)

In addition, the councils are explicit about the predicates apt of Christ in virtue of his humanity being true of the person. The councils claim that one should assert of the divine person the predications true of Christ as man. For instance, they say: For it is necessary to believe that being God by nature he became ﬂesh, that is man ensouled with a rational soul, whatever reason should anyone have for being ashamed at the expressions uttered by him should they happen to be suitable to him as man? (55–6)

The point here, I take it, is that the expressions suitable of Christ in virtue of his human nature should be suitable of the divine person as well. And so the divine person is truly said to have suffered. So the divine person, the Second Person of the Trinity, is aptly called “passible.” One ﬁnal example: The fathers at Ephesus may have had the (S) move in mind when they write the following anathema: If anyone distributes between the two persons or hypostases the expressions used either in the gospels or in the apostolic writings, whether they are used by the holy

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writers of Christ or by him about himself, and ascribes some to him as to a man, thought of separately from the Word from God, and others, as beﬁtting God, to him as to the Word from God the Father, let him be anathema. (59)

The idea here seems to be that there is something wrong with ascribing predicates to Christ-qua-human but not the person of the Word. Those predicates should apply to the Word, too. Thus, it is false to claim that the predications are true of Christ-qua-human but not true of the person Christ. I take these texts, and the many others like them, to show that Conciliar Christology entails that the predicates aptly predicated of Christ according to his human nature are predicated to one and the same thing as the predicates aptly predicated of Christ according to his divine nature. But then, if a view denies that the very same predicates aptly predicated of Christ according to the human nature are predicated to one and the same thing as the predicates aptly predicated of Christ according to the divine nature, it is inconsistent with Conciliar Christology. Thus, Premise 8 of the Subject Dilemma is true. The remaining two lines of the Subject Dilemma, Premise 7 and the Conclusion, 9, follow logically from the truth of other premises I have already justiﬁed. Thus, the truth of the conclusion is derived: if the (S) theory of “qua” modifying is the correct way to understand “qua” clauses, it does not solve the Fundamental Problem or it entails the falsity of Conciliar Christology. Neither disjunct of the consequent of 9 will be acceptable to the proponent of Conciliar Christology attempting to use “qua” clauses, understood in the (S) way, to solve the problem, and so the (S) method fails. The ﬁrst disjunct is clearly unacceptable, since it entails that “qua” clauses will not work. The second is also unacceptable. This is supposed to be a response that allows the truth of Conciliar Christology. If we are resigned to deny the truth of Conciliar Christology to answer the Problem, we might as well do it at the outset, in which case we need not fret over “qua” clauses to escape the contradiction at Step 7 of the Fundamental Problem.

V . M O D I F Y I N G TH E P R E D I C A T E ( P ) Consider the third way to read the “qua”-clauses—the way of modifying the predicate.11 The predicate that is apt of Christ, on this view, is not “passible” simpliciter. Rather, predicates should be understood as internally modiﬁed. We can understand this internal modiﬁcation in two ways, which I will call the “Substitutional” and the “Non-Substitutional” ways. One can get an understanding for these two ways of interpreting the modiﬁed predicates by considering an example. Consider these two predicates: “identicalwith-Leo-the-Great”; “identical-with-something-or-other.” The latter, but not the former, is apt of you. You are not identical with Leo the Great, though you are identical with something or other. Logically, one can understand the ﬁrst 11 For some discussion of this understanding of qua-clauses in relation to Christology, see Adams (2009, 253–60); Bäck (1998); Cross (2005, 204–5; 2011, 457); and Senor (2002, 230–3).

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predicate as a one-place predicate. It is apt of something, x, when x is identicalwith-Leo-the-Great. One might express this claim as follows: ILG(x), which can be read “the predicate, ‘identical-with-Leo-the-Great,’ is satisﬁed by x.” The second case is an example of a two-place relation. It is apt of something, x, when x is identical with some thing, y, where one can substitute in anything one wants for the y variable. One might express this claim as follows: I(x,y), which can be read “the relation, ‘identical with,’ holds between the relata, x and y.” Call the ﬁrst understanding “Non-Substitutional,” since the predicate has no variable internal to it. That is, there is no place to substitute in what the thing is identical to. One cannot substitute anything else in for “Leo-the-Great.” Were one to try to substitute in another name, one would be forming a new predicate. Call the second understanding “Substitutional,” since the predicate itself has a built in variable. That is, there is a place to substitute in different things to be identical with. One can substitute in Leo the Great, Charlemagne, Charles the Hammer, M. C. Hammer, etc. for the y in the formula without changing the predicate (relation) “I.” We can understand the “qua” modiﬁer in the (P) understanding in either a Substitutional or a Non-Substitutional way. We could interpret the fathers to be claiming that there is a predicate, “impassible-as-God,” and they are predicating that predicate of Christ. Or we can understand them to be using the modiﬁer in a Substitutional way, so that the predicate is a disguised relation that holds between Christ, the person, and some y, which the fathers express by referring to one or the other of Christ’s two natures. The Substitutional and Non-Substitutional readings of (P) are similar, but they should be discussed separately, since they are not identical, and neither entails the other, since they have inconsistent entailments. To see this, suppose that there were something created and bearing something that appears to be one of the candidate predicates of the divine. Say, for instance, that God created something that is immaterial. Name that immaterial object “Abstractum.” These two theories under discussion give different answers to the question: “is Abstractum aptly predicated by the same predicate that God is predicated by?” To see why, consider what each response would say to the question. Given the ﬁrst strategy under discussion, the candidate predicate would not be apt of both God and Abstractum. For the candidate predicate is really, on the ﬁrst view, “immaterial-qua-divine.” And Abstractum is not divine. (Proof: Abstractum is created; no created thing is divine, therefore etc.) So Abstractum is not “immaterial-qua-divine.” If Abstractum has a nature of being, say, a property, then Abstractum would be “immaterial-qua-property.” Given the second strategy under discussion, the candidate predicate would be apt of both Abstractum and God. For the candidate predicate is really, on this second view, “not composed of matter qua y” or something similar. And both God and Abstractum fulﬁll this criterion for apt predication of the term. And so, on the Substitutional view, both God and Abstractum are aptly predicated by the predicate, “immaterial.” (If this particular example causes hesitation in the reader, substitute in some other example. Perhaps God could cause something omniscient, or something omnipresent, or something immortal, etc.) Thus, these two responses give inconsistent answers to the same question, “Is Abstractum aptly predicated by the same Candidate predicate that God is

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predicated by?” But no two theories that give inconsistent answers to the same question understood in the same way can be identical. And neither can two theories that give inconsistent answers to the same question understood in the same way entail one another.12 These two views should not be conﬂated and discussed as if they are one. In what follows, I will consider both the Substitutional and Non-Substitutional readings. I will begin with the Non-Substitutional reading.

V.a. Non-Substitutional Predicate Modifying On the Non-Substitutional (P) understanding of the “qua” modiﬁcation, Christ is not “passible” simpliciter, he is “passible-qua-human,” where “passible-quahuman” is one undivided predicate. Likewise, Christ is not impassible simpliciter. Rather, Christ is impassible-qua-divine, where “impassible-qua-divine” is one undivided predicate. This (P) understanding blocks the secundum quid ad simpliciter inference, because the predicate “passible” is really shorthand for “passible-qua-human.” And the predicate “impassible” is really shorthand for “impassible-qua-divine.” And the two predicates “passible-qua-human” and “impassible-qua-divine” are not complementary—at least so says the (P) theorist. At very least, we need an argument for why “passible-qua-human” and “impassible-qua-divine” are complementary predicates. This response claims that steps 4–9 of the Fundamental Problem are unmotivated. We have no reason to believe that Complementary Predicates are predicated of the one Christ, though the shorthand makes it look as if they were. The Non-Substitutional (P) view thus maintains the beneﬁt of the (S) understanding, since we do not have a predicate and its complement predicated of the same thing. In addition, the Non-Substitutional (P) view does not ﬂout the texts of Conciliar Christology that the (S) move does, since the predicates are apt of one and the same person. The Second Person of the Trinity is aptly predicated by both “passible-qua-human” and “impassible-qua-divine.” This “qua” move denies that the predicates predicated of Christ are incompatible. In one sense, then, it has a lot more in common with the response I discuss in the following chapter than it does with the other “qua” moves. On the other hand, unlike that forthcoming response in the next chapter, the (P) response says that the predicates “impassible” and “passible” (if they exist at all) are, in fact, incompatible. If they were not incompatible at all, then there would be no need to go about “qua”-modifying them. On this (P) theory, the predicates that appear to be predicated of the one Christ by Conciliar Christology are incompatible, since what

12

Suppose two theories, A and B, each of which is internally logically consistent. And suppose that A entails that the answer to some question is “yes” while B entails that the answer to the very same question is “no.” Now suppose that A entails B. Given the truth of A, then “yes” is the correct answer. But given the truth of A and the fact that A entails B, then B is true. And given the truth of B, then “no” is the correct answer. But now the question is correctly answered by both “yes” and “no.” That is impossible. And so A can’t entail B, supposing that they entail different answers to the question. For similar reasons, B cannot entail A.

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appears to be predicated is “impassible” simpliciter and “passible” simpliciter. But the predicates that are actually predicated of the one Christ are not incompatible. It is because this (P) move is a “qua” move, and because it agrees with the other “qua” moves that the predicates simpliciter are incompatible that I discuss it here, rather than in the following chapter. The Non-Substitutional (P) view has difﬁculties. In what follows I will discuss four objections.

Objection 1: Ad Hoc Worries One can begin to see the ad hoc worries by asking the following questions. Are all the predicates we predicate of Christ modiﬁed to one or the other of his natures? For instance, is Christ not merely loving, but loving-qua-divine and loving-qua-human? Was he weary (simpliciter) or weary-qua-human? Or perhaps was he both? If we only modify the Candidate predications that remain after we cull the list of Candidate predications in the other ways described in Chapter 5, then the (P) response seems ad hoc.13 In this usage, the Non-Substitutional (P) theory is the method we resort to after applying all of our principled methods of solving the Problem. If we predicate qua-modiﬁed predicates of Christ, and only Christ, that seems ad hoc, too. I am a man simpliciter, but Christ is not; he is a man-qua-human. You are temperate simpliciter, but Christ is not; he is temperate-qua-human. Why this disparity? Christ would be true God and true man, but he would not be “true man” in the same sense that any mere man is a “true man.” In fact, the term “man” is not univocally said of Christ and me, if we only qua-modify the predicates when said of Christ: he is “man-qua-human”; I am “man” without modiﬁcation. If we modify more broadly still and modify all and only those predicates that are apt of Christ, no matter what they are applied to, then that, too, is ad hoc. What explains why the predicate, “reptilian” is un-modiﬁed but the predicate “mammalian,” being apt of Christ, is modiﬁed? Why would “male” be modiﬁed but not “female?” This all seems gerrymandered. One option available to avoid this charge of ad hocery is to qua-modify all predicates, and not merely those aptly predicated of Christ. Not only does modifying all predicates answer the ad hoc charges, it also provides the (P) theorist with a way of answering an objection that Thomas Senor levels against it. Senor (2002, 230–2) challenges the (P) view by claiming that even if Christ is passible-qua-human and impassible-qua-God, there is still the further question of whether he is passible simpliciter or impassible simpliciter. Senor reasons that, for any property, a thing will either have it or have its complement. One might say similarly, for any predicate, a thing will either be aptly described by it or by its complement.14 13

Allan Bäck (1997, 347) makes this point against Scotus’ (P) understanding of qua-clauses. One might object here due to cases of vagueness, whether ontological vagueness (with respect to the property case) or semantic vagueness (with respect to the predicate case). In reply, at least some of the Candidate predicates are not vague. For instance, whether something is necessary, or omnipresent, is not a vague matter. So even if we must rein in the general principle so that it doesn’t range over vague properties (or predicates depending on how one phrases it), there is a plausible principle in the 14

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And so even if the (P) theorist is right that Christ is passible-qua-human and impassible-qua-God, the (P) theorist still needs to give an answer to the question of whether Christ is passible simpliciter or impassible simpliciter. In response to Senor’s argument, if the (P) theorist modiﬁes all predications to some nature or other, then she can avoid this objection. For then she can claim that there is no predicate “passible” simpliciter. Rather, all instances of “passible” as predicates are tacitly qualiﬁed by a nature. So she would deny Senor’s claim that there is such a property as passibility or predicate as “passible.” Thus, she can deny Senor’s claim that there still must be a fact of the matter about whether Christ is passible simpliciter or not. There is no such thing, on her view, as the predicate “passible” simpliciter, and so the only fact of the matter in the neighborhood of Senor’s challenge is that Christ is neither passible simpliciter nor impassible simpliciter. All passibility is really passibility-qua-God, or passibility-qua-canine, or passibility-qua-man, or. . . . Modifying all predicates to a nature resolves the ad hoc worries, and it provides an answer to Senor’s objection, but it also raises problems. I discuss the problems in the following subsections.

Objection 2: The Objection from Uncommon Predicates If all predicates are modiﬁed to a nature, as I think the Non-Substitutional (P) theorist should say, then the predicates apt of us are modiﬁed to our nature, too. For instance, an apt predicate of Christ is “warm-blooded.” But he wasn’t warmblooded simpliciter, he was “warm-blooded-qua-human.” We, likewise, then, are warm-blooded-qua-human. “Qua” modifying the predicate solves two problems but it causes problems for other things we think are true. For instance, here is something we take to be true: “humans and dogs are mammals.” If predicates have built in nature-modiﬁers, though, this will be false. For on that view, Fido is a mammal-qua-dog, and no human is a mammal-qua-dog. Likewise, I am a mammal-qua-human, and no dog is a mammal-qua-human. So one peculiar entailment of this view is that either Christ does not share predicates in common with me, or I do not share them in common with other non-human animals. Conciliar Christology says that Christ shares them in common with me. Christ is “true man,” just as I am. But it surely seems as if I share some in common with other animals, too. Is there really no zoological terminology (e.g. genera) that can be univocally predicated of both humans and other life forms? This is not insurmountable, but it is weird. One would expect Conciliar Christology to have weird entailments, but one might be excused for not expecting the entailments in the realm of biological taxonomy. In what follows I will consider two potential responses to this objection from uncommon predicates. The ﬁrst requires the secundum quid ad simpliciter inference and so should be rejected. The second is a satisfactory answer to the objection from uncommon predicates, supposing that multiple simultaneous incarnations

neighborhood to which vague properties are no counterexample. See Chapter 4, Section IV.b. for more discussion of this point.

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of the same divine person are impossible. If such incarnations are possible, though, this solution, too, fails. One might be tempted to reason in response to the above objection from uncommon predicates as follows: if something is a mammal-qua-dog, then it is a mammal full stop. And if something is a mammal-qua-human, then it is a mammal full stop. And so there are some zoological terms used univocally of both humans and dogs: both are mammals full stop.15 The (P) theorist ought not to reason like this, though. For, such inferences strip the qualiﬁcation from the predications. If we are allowed to strip the qualiﬁcation in such a manner, then the (P) move will not insulate the incarnate God from complementary predications being true of him at the same time, in the same sense. That is, it will not show premise 6 to be false. But then the contradiction at 7 follows, and the (P) move will do nothing to alleviate the difﬁculty it was suggested to overcome—it will not solve the Problem. Put otherwise, this tempting response to the objection from uncommon predicates relies upon the truth of inferences such as the following: if Christ is a mammal-qua-human, then Christ is a mammal (simpliciter). But then this response to the objection sanctions the secundum quid ad simpliciter inference, which is precisely what a “qua” theory must not do. And so the (P) theorist ought not opt for this tempting response. The second potential response to the objection from uncommon predicates is to note that the qua-modifying of the predicate can be done at any level. For instance, “passible-qua-human” works just as well as “passible-qua-animal” or “passible-qua-temporal” or “passible-qua-creature” does in ensuring that it isn’t one and the same predicate and its complement said of Christ. So long as the “qua-N” addition employs a divine “N” in one case, and a non-divine “N” in the other, there is room to claim that the predicates generated are not incompatible. In other words, the “qua”-modiﬁcation need not be to the inﬁma species—the lowest kind under which an entity falls. The “qua”-modiﬁer might be modiﬁed to a higher genus, such as “animal” or “creature” or something else entirely. Such modifying would work just as well as a reply to the Problem, since it would allow one to deny premise 6: that there is some object, Christ, and some predicate, P, such that both P and P’s complement are aptly predicated of him at the same time, in the same way. Afﬁxing the “qua”-modiﬁer to a higher genus provides a way to respond to the objection from uncommon predicates. For the objection requires that the “qua”modifying occur at a level of generality not shared by both humans and dogs. But if the “qua”-modifying could happen at the level of, say, the genus “animal,” then there is reason to think that the same predicate, “mammal-qua-animal” is apt of both humans and dogs. One might balk at the predicate “mammal-qua-animal.” Is there any other way to be a mammal? That balking, alone, is insufﬁcient reason to reject the NonSubstitutional (P) response to the Problem. Or we might modify to “creature” such that you, Christ, and Fido are each aptly predicated by “mammal-quacreature.” The general insight to draw from this response to the objection from 15

I thank Joshua Rasmussen, who pointed out (but did not endorse) this mode of inference to me.

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uncommon predicates is that the modifying need not occur at the level of “human,” and if it occurs higher up, then there is a response to this objection from uncommon predicates. I said earlier that the possibility of multiple incarnations causes problems for this response.16 Brieﬂy, the problems go as follows. Suppose that one divine person is incarnate in two concrete human natures at the same time, and that the concrete natures can be doing different things at that time (say, one is standing and preaching, the other kneeling and praying—or say that the one person is standing and preaching through or in one of them, kneeling and praying through or in the other). Then the predicates “standing” and “kneeling” will be apt of the Person via the communication of idioms. But these predicates are taken to be paradigm examples of incompatible predicates. In such a case, the non-Substitutional (P) theory has no good resolution to offer for the apparent incompatibility. For if it qua-modiﬁes to “human” or “mammal” or “creature”, etc., then Christ will be both “standing-qua-human” (or -quamammal, or -qua-creature, etc.) and “kneeling-qua-human” (etc.). Since they are concrete natures of the same abstract kind nature type (see Chapter 2, Section II.b. for deﬁnitions of these terms), no “qua” modiﬁer that names an abstract kind nature will secure different respects for the two predicates, and contradiction is not avoided. If, on the other hand, it qua-modiﬁes all the way down to the lowest level—to the individual assumed concrete natures—then the contradiction is avoided but the problem of uncommon predicates returns in spades. For now that Person is standing-qua-nature1 and kneeling-qua-nature2. Those are not straightforwardly incompatible predicates, and so contradiction is avoided. But I am never aptly predicated by “standing-qua-nature1.” Calling my nature “nature3,” I stand-quanature3. And so not only are there no common predicates across different kinds, on this response, there are no common predicates even among members of the same abstract natures.

Objection 3: The Objection from Cheap Predicates Predicates are cheap, in the following sense: we can construct them willy-nilly, at our leisure. Predicates need not cut reality at its joints; they can be wholly arbitrary in their truth conditions. Consider Nelson Goodman’s (1983, 74) philosophically useful abomination, “grue,” of which he says: [I]t applies to all things examined before t just in case they are green but to other things just in case they are blue.

And its lesser discussed, but equally abominable cousin, “emerose,” of which he says: Let “emerose” apply just to emeralds examined before time t, and to roses examined later.

16 See my articles on multiple incarnations (Pawl 2014e; Pawl 2015a) for more analysis of the concept and its possibility.

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The point here is this: predicates can be constructed a dime a dozen. And this may well worry the (P) theorist. I said earlier the (P) theorist should answer the ad hoc worries and avoid Senor’s objection by modifying all predicates. But, given the ease with which we form predicates, this cannot be done. For I can form a predicate which is explicitly not so modiﬁed. I can form the predicate “impassible(simply),” by which I mean what we originally meant by “impassible,” full stop, non-qua-modiﬁed, without augmentation. One can provide the aptness conditions for this predicate in terms employed by the (P) theorist as well. Something is impassible(simply) just in case it is impassible-qua-horse, or impassible-qua-divine, or impassible-qua-human, or etc. Form a disjunction of all the impassible-qua-___ predicates; anything that satisﬁes that disjunction is impassible(simply), in the sense I have in mind here. And similar reasoning holds for passible(simply). With these deﬁnitions in hand, since Christ is both passible-qua-human and impassible-qua-divine on the non-Substitutional (P) theorist’s view, he will be both passible(simply) and impassible(simply), which brings the alleged incompatibility back to the fore. And so the Non-Substitutional (P) theory seems unable to solve The Problem, given the ease with which we can form predicates. What should the non-Substitutional (P) theorist say to this objection? Here are three potential responses. First, the theorist can claim that passible (simply) and impassible(simply) are not, in fact, inconsistent. In such a case she will argue that there is little motivation for thinking that they are incompatible. This response is dialectically difﬁcult. For the predicate I’ve formed here is supposed to be the predicate we initially started out with, before we qua-modiﬁed. And that predicate, “passible” sure seemed inconsistent with the predicate “impassible.” In fact, it was precisely that inconsistency, which we assumed for sake of argument, that led to the (P) theorist modifying the predicate. If it wasn’t inconsistent to begin with, why go through the whole rigmarole of qua-modifying in the ﬁrst place? Why not claim at the outset that the predicates are, in fact, compatible? It seems to me that once one starts down the road of qua-modifying predicates to avoid inconsistency, one has precluded the dialectical option of also claiming the predicates to be consistent when push comes to shove. A second potential response is to claim that the newly formed predicates are, in fact, incompatible, but to deny that they are predicates that Conciliar Christology requires of Christ. What the Conciliar Christologist must afﬁrm of Christ, according to this view, is that he is both passible-qua-human and impassiblequa-divine. She need not go on to claim that he is passible(simply) and impassible (simply) as well. And so while there are new-fangled predicates that go by similar names and have similar content to the conciliar predicates, they cause no problem for Conciliar Christology. A third and ﬁnal potential response is to claim that predicates, while cheap, are not this cheap. Predicates have a necessary, deep structure that is not always apparent on the surface, but always must be there. And the structure of predicates, contrary to appearances, is that they are always qua-modiﬁed. Such a response avoids this problem, and provides an answer to the ad hoc and Senor worries, but it requires much more to be said about why predicates are not this cheap. “Grue” seems to fulﬁll the predicate function. If it can, why couldn’t “impassible (simply)?” Moreover, the third response faces a ﬁnal objection I turn to now.

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Objection 4: Predications Qua-Modiﬁable to Neither or Both Natures One problem the Non-Substitutional (P) theory faces is making sense of predications that seem not to be qua-modiﬁable to either nature, or that seem equally qua-modiﬁable to both natures. For instance, Christ wills things. But, as the Third Council of Constantinople says, he wills things in virtue of both natures, and in fact “each nature wills and performs the things that are proper to it in a communion with the other” (Tanner 1990, 129). So the predicate “wills” is apt in virtue of both natures. How does one explain how this works on the Substitutional (P) theory? Or another example: Christ is two-natured. But neither nature all by itself is a nature in virtue of which Christ is two-natured. Christ, while aptly predicated by “two-natured” is not aptly predicated by “two-natured-qua-divine” or “twonatured-qua-human.” What to say of such cases? To the ﬁrst, one might understand predications apt of Christ in virtue of both natures as ambiguous between two predications: 10. “Christ wills(-qua-divine)”: WD(c). 11. “Christ wills(-qua-human)”: WH(c).

Here WD means “wills-qua-divine” and WH means “wills-qua-human.” So far as I can tell, both of these claims are true, given Conciliar Christology, and afﬁrming both leads to no problems for the Conciliar Christologist. To the second, one might understand predications such as “two-natured” in the following way. It is not true due to either nature alone. Christ is two-natured because he has a divine nature and also a human nature. Where “ND” names the predicate “divinely-natured” and “NH” names the predicate “humanlynatured”: 12. “Christ is humanly and divinely natured”:

ND(c) & NH(c).

Given 12, and given that Christ is not natured in any other way and that the human and divine natures are distinct, it follows that Christ is two-natured. What about the predicate “a person”? Here we could index to the divine nature and say PD(c), since it is the divine nature in virtue of which Christ is a person, and it is that divine person into which the human nature is assumed. But we might also say that PH(c), provided we are sure to claim that the person that Christ is qua his divine nature is identical to the person that Christ is qua his human nature; that is, that there is but one person in the incarnate Christ, the Second Person of the Trinity. Such a use of language, however, might be misleading. In the following section I will consider the Substitutional (P) view, assessing its responses to these objections and others.

V.b. Substitutional Predicate Modifying According to the Substitutional (P) theory, there is a predicate, impassible, which is best understood as a relation that holds between a thing and a concrete nature

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of the thing. Consider the predications, “Christ is passible” and “Christ is impassible.” Those might be explicitly presented in their logical structure in this way, according to the Substitutional (P) theory: 13. “Christ is passible”: 14. “Christ is impassible”:

P(c,h). P(c,d).

These two claims are not straightforwardly incompatible, any more than “Bob is to the left” and “Bob is to the right” are incompatible when they are said relative to different objects. At the very least, one would need an argument for why the claims “Christ is passible” and “Christ is impassible” are incompatible when they are said relative to different things. Put another way, a necessary condition for “passible” and “impassible” to be said of Christ in the same sense is for them to be said of Christ relative to the same second relatum. That is, they must be said such that the y variable in both “P(c,y)” and “P(c,y)” names one and the same entity. But the Substitutional (P) theorist will claim that this necessary condition is not fulﬁlled in any case of candidate predicates. And so the predicates, while said of Christ at the same time, are not said of him in the same way. Thus, “passible” and “impassible” are not valid substitution instances for the variable “P” in the Problem; they are not predicates said of Christ in the same sense. Likewise, continues the Substitutional (P) theorist, for all other Candidate predications. All Candidate predicates are understood as relations between the subject of the predication and the nature in virtue of which the predicate is apt of the subject. No predicates of a Candidate pair are both apt of Christ in virtue of the same nature. And so no members of a Candidate pair fulﬁll the conditions for being true in the same sense. Thus no Candidate pair is a Problematic pair; there is no valid substitution instance of “P” in the Problem on which all the premises are true. Thus, the Problem is unsound, given the Substitutional (P) theory. The Substitutional (P) theory faces the same questions that faced the NonSubstitutional (P) theory. In the following sections I will consider how it fares against the four objections I discussed in the previous section. I will then consider a ﬁnal objection that is not applicable to the Non-Substitutional (P) theory: the objection from redundant relata.

Objection 1: Ad Hoc Worries What principled reason do we have for determining which predicates are disguised relations between subjects and natures? If we “qua”-modify only the really hard ones to deal with, or just the ones we say of Christ and only Christ, or the predicates we say of Christ, whenever they are said of Christ or something else, we face an ad hoc worry. And if there really is a predicate, “passible” simpliciter, aside from “passible-qua-N,” then we face Senor’s worry of whether such a predicate or its complement is apt of Christ. In light of these two worries, the Substitutional (P) theorist might qua-modify all predicates. But as we saw previously, this led to other objections. Do those objections plague the Substitutional (P) Theory as well?

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Objection 2: The Objection from Uncommon Predicates Given the Substitutional (P) theory, are one and the same predicate apt of both me and Fido? I think so. One and the same predicate, “mammal” is apt of both Fido and me. This is true, even though neither relatum in the predicative relation, M(x,y), is the same. Similarly, the same predicative relation (henceforth I will stick with calling these “predicates” rather than the more laborious “predicative relation”), “is north of ” can be said of a and b, on the one hand, and c and d on the other. There need not be sameness of relata to have sameness of predicate. In the logical form, the predications look like this, where t names me, and THN names my nature, and f names Fido, and FCN names Fido’s canine nature: 15. “Tim is a mammal”: 16. “Fido is a mammal”:

M(t,thn). M(f,fcn).

The very same predicate is expressed in both cases, even though no relatum appears in both formulae. And so the predicate is common; the objection from uncommon predicates fails against the Substitutional (P) theory. Similarly, if it is possible for there to be simultaneous incarnations of the same divine Person, the Substitutional (P) theory would be able to avoid contradictions by noting that Christ is standing in or through one human nature—S(c,chn1)— but kneeling in or through another—K(c,chn2).

Objection 3: The Objection from Cheap Predicates Predicates come on the cheap. For instance, earlier I formed the predicate “identical-with-Leo-the-Great.” There I assumed that the reader would grant that such a predicate could be used to form a truth-evaluable proposition. And I doubt anyone balked when I said that the following is true: “Leo the great is identical-with-Leo-the-Great.” But such a predicate is not substitutional. And so not all predicates are modiﬁed in a Substitutional (P) way. Consider again the predicates, “passible(simply)”; “impassible(simply).” Those predicates are not substitutional. Are they apt of Christ? Again, I see the same three potential responses. One can respond by denying the incompatibility of the predicates. In doing so, one is at a dialectical disadvantage, since previously the same predicates were treated by this theorist as being incompatible. Why would they be compatible now but incompatible at the beginning of this chapter? The second response concedes that there are such predicates (and so concedes that not all predicates are substitutionally (P) modiﬁed) and concedes their incompatibility, but denies that they are the germane predicates for Conciliar Christology. What one has to afﬁrm to afﬁrm Conciliar Christology is the two-place substitutional claim, not this, other, claim. Finally, the third response is to deny that such predicates are, in fact, possibly creatable. Predicates have an internal logic that requires at least two relatum. Forming a one-place predicate is, in all instances, on this view, as botched as in this instance: “x is taller than.” There must be a second relata for that predicate to be coherent: nothing is just taller than, without anything that it is taller than. Likewise, the proponent of this third response says, for all other predicates.

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Objection 4: Predications Qua-Modiﬁable to Neither or Both Natures Again, some predicates appear to be qua-modiﬁable to neither or both natures. What to say in such cases? Consider the examples from the previous section: “wills”; “two-natured.” To the ﬁrst, one might understand predications apt of Christ in virtue of both natures as ambiguous between two predications: 17. “Christ wills(-qua-divine)”: 18. “Christ wills(-qua-human)”:

W(c,d). W(c,h).

So far as I can tell, both of these claims are true, and afﬁrming both leads to no problems for the Conciliar Christologist. To the second, one might understand predications such as “two-natured” in the following way. It is not true due to either nature alone. We can paraphrase the claim as follows, where “N(x,y)” names the predicate “x has nature y”: 19. “Christ is two-natured”:

N(c,d) & N(c,h) & (d=h).

That is, Christ is natured-qua-divine and natured-qua-human and it is not the case that the divine nature is the human nature. That entails at least two natures in Christ. If we added an excluding clause: “and, for any nature Christ has, it is either h or d,” we get the claim that Christ has exactly two natures. The Substitutionary (P) view is silent about whether identity claims or the denials of identity claims must be qua-modiﬁed. Since there are no predicates in the claims, at least as I have spelled it out above (e.g. (d=h)) one needn’t worry about the theory requiring a “qua” clause being added to that third conjunct of the conjunction. So while the predicate “two-natured” is not apt of Christ in virtue of either nature alone, its truth conditions are expressed in terms of predicates that are substitutional. Those conditions are fulﬁlled by Christ, so “Christ is twonatured” is true. Thus, so far as I can tell, the Substitutionary (P) theory has a way of accounting for the predicates that seem true in virtue of each individual nature in Christ, or that seem true in virtue of neither nature alone.

Objection 5: The Objection from Redundant Relata Another potential objection to the Substitutionary (P) theory goes as follows. Suppose, as I claimed in Chapter 3 (Section VI, Objection 2), that a concrete human nature that fulﬁlls certain conditions is (or partially constitutes) a person. There I was non-committal as to whether those conditions included merely the nature fulﬁlling some negative condition (e.g. not being assumed) or some condition that includes some additional ontology (e.g. a mode or created esse). Each of our natures fulﬁlls the condition for being a person, though CHN does not, owing to the fact that it was assumed. Each of us, then, is a concrete nature that fulﬁlls the conditions for being a person.17

17

Unless Jesus is reading this book, too.

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Now, with that in mind, consider the relata of predications according to the Substitutional (P) theory in mundane cases, such as the case of Bob sitting. The predication, “Bob sits” looks like this, where “S” names the sitting predicate, “b” names Bob, and “bhn” names Bob’s human nature: 20. “Bob sits”:

S(b,bhn).

Since, as stated above, Bob is a nature fulﬁlling certain conditions, we could say: 21. “Bob sits”:

S(b,b).

That is, on the Substitutionary (P) view, every typical case of predication involves some concrete nature being some way in virtue of itself, which I have represented as a relation the nature stands in to itself. And isn’t that an unfortunate thing to have to say? Isn’t it inelegant or theory-bloating to have to claim that each predication is a disguised relation a thing bears to itself (in all but the atypical case of the incarnation) in order to make sense of Conciliar Christology? After all, I picked the predication “Bob sits” at random; the redundant relation addition is not in virtue of anything special about Bob, or about sitting. This is a fair criticism. One should count it as a cost that one has to modify apparently one-placed “predicates” so that they are two-placed relations in order to make sense of Conciliar Christology. And an additional cost is that the entity in the second, added, place will almost always be the same entity as that which we started off with in the ﬁrst place, or, if not exactly the same thing, that thing fulﬁlling some condition. I know that some will see this objection as a deal-breaker. In the next chapter I will present a response that does not require apparently one-placed predicates to be two-placed relations.

V.c. Summary of the Discussion of the (P) Strategy A ﬁnal point about the (P) understanding of “qua”-clauses. Very often, the Councils provide no evidence that they are predicating “qua”-modiﬁed predicates of Christ. There is one predicate, being passible, that they claim is aptly said of Christ in virtue of his human nature, but not aptly said in virtue of his divine nature. And there is one predicate, being impassible, that they claim is aptly said of Christ in virtue of his divine nature, but not aptly said in virtue of his human nature. There is an appearance at least of the Fathers saying one thing, passible, is apt of Christ, and that another thing, impassible, is apt of Christ. We should have a story to tell about why they aren’t more explicit about using this strategy if they are using it. There are some passages that may be read in a (P) friendly way. Chief among these is the passage from Cyril’s 12 anathemas against Nestorius, where he writes: “If anyone does not confess that the Word of God suffered in the ﬂesh and was cruciﬁed in the ﬂesh and tasted death in the ﬂesh and became the ﬁrst born from the dead, although as God he is life and life-giving, let him be anathema” (61). Here I see a case to be made that the predicates “suffered,” “cruciﬁed,” and “died” (tasted death) are modiﬁed by a “qua human” locution. Likewise, at one point

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Athanasius may have had this sort of view in mind. He writes in Contra Arianos II, 3 (PG, 26.152c) as quoted by T. F. Torrance (1974, 64) “as Athanasius puts it elsewhere: ‘For terms do not take away from His nature, but rather that Nature changes the terms while attracting them to itself.’ ” This “changing the terms” may well be a modiﬁcation of the predication of the sort that the (P) theorist has in mind. The Non-Substitutional (P) understanding has little in its favor on this point. For it says that one predicate is not said in both cases; it must explain away all the cases where it appears that the fathers are doing otherwise. But the Substitutional (P) understanding does have a story to tell here. For it is true that one and the same predicate is said of Christ in both cases, it is not said in the same way in virtue of the second relatum being different across the two cases. And so it would make sense that the fathers would use the predicates “passible” and “impassible” without qualiﬁcation. And it also makes sense that they would include the “qua” modiﬁers in some cases, since the “qua” serves to point out the second relatum in the relation predicated of Christ. Moreover, it makes sense that on occasion the fathers would leave out the second relatum in the statements, just as we sometimes leave out the second relatum in some of our sentences. After telling you a few times that “Bob is to the left of the stage,” or “the stairs are to the right of the stage,” I might drop the “of the stage” from the statements, assuming that you will ﬁll in the right relatum into my claims. In such a circumstance, the conversational cues would lead you to believe that if I said that “the ticket booth is to the right” I mean to the right “of the stage” and not that there is some predicate, “to the right” simpliciter which I deem to be apt of the ticket booth. Similarly, after claiming it to be, say, “sheer lunacy” to think that the Son could experience death in his divine nature, as Cyril says in the quotation at the beginning of Section II, one should not expect the fathers continually to refer explicitly to the human nature when discussing Christ’s death. They will be assuming the strong words are still ringing in the readers mind. Thus ends the discussion of the Substitutional (P) strategy. It has faced ﬁve objections. Without qua-modifying all predicates, the (P) theory faces two charges: it appears ad hoc and it remains open to Senor’s objection. Modifying all predicates gets around these objections. But it raises difﬁculties of its own. One such difﬁculty is whether or not there are predicates common to things across types—such as humans and dogs. To answer this objection, one might note that we can “qua” modify at different levels of generality. If we “qua” modify at the level of, say, “-qua-creature,” then some predicates are apt of both humans and dogs. But then there are difﬁculties if one allows the possibility of multiple, simultaneous incarnations of the same divine person. The Substitutional (P) theory, I argued, has an adequate response to this objection. A third difﬁculty for qua-modifying all predicates comes from the problem of cheap predicates. We can form non-qua-modiﬁed predicates. The (P) theorist should, to my mind, do one of two things. She should either allow the existence of such predicates, but deny that they are the predicates employed by the Conciliar texts, and also deny that they are viable instances of Incompatible Predicates. Or she should deny that there really could be such predicates. The Substitutionary view has an easier time saying this, because it can give a principled reason—there are no 1-place predicates.

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A fourth difﬁculty concerns what to do with predicates that do not seem quamodiﬁable to either nature, or which seem modiﬁable to both. I argued that those predicates that are qua-modiﬁable to both are not problematic for either (P) view. And I provided a way of understanding predicates that are not qua-modiﬁed to either nature as derivative on predicates that are qua-modiﬁed. Finally, a ﬁfth objection I raised only affected the Substitutional (P) theory. The Substitutional (P) theory, in making predications disguised relations, complicates our whole theory of predications, even mundane predications, by introducing a redundancy that is only useful in the case of incarnation. That’s a high cost to pay. Now I move on to discuss the last “qua” move, that of modifying the copula. Again, I will distinguish two ways of doing so.

V I . MO D I F Y I N G TH E C OP U L A ( C ) On this ﬁnal view, the modiﬁed statements look like this: Christ is-according-tohis-human-nature passible; Christ is-according-to-his-divine-nature impassible. Put otherwise, Christ is humanly passible; Christ is divinely impassible. Here the subject is one and the same thing in both predications: it is one and the same Christ in both. This sets the (C) view apart from the (S) view, since, on the (S) view, the Candidate predications are not about the same thing. And the predicate is univocally employed in both instances (aside from the negation in one of the predicates, of course), unlike the Non-Substitutional (P) view. The difference is in the “is.” But how can one make sense of that? The difference is an adverbial difference on this view. And this makes some sense, since the “qua” modiﬁer can be read as an adverbial modiﬁer, both in English and in the original Greek, as Jenson (2009, 119) points out. Here’s a sketch of how to do it. Suppose that natures are the bearers of whatever it is that plays the property role in one’s ontology (see Chapter 2, Section IV.b. and Chapter 3, Section III.b.). For instance, natures might be the things that exemplify platonic universals, or they might be those things in which accidents inhere. But, in any case, it is a nature that bears the universal, or accident, or whatever. The person is characterized by a predicate relevant to that thing which plays the property role— that is, one can aptly predicate of the person a certain predicate in virtue of the property that the nature bears.18 Now, a necessary condition for two predications to be true in the same way, on this (C) view, is for the nature in virtue of which the person is characterized by that predicate to be the same in both cases. But this necessary condition is not fulﬁlled in the Candidate predication cases. Rather, Christ is-qua-divine impassible, and Christ is-qua-human passible. The way that he is characterized by the predicate “passible” is due to his human nature, which (on this view) makes the 18 This move is similar to Scotus’s claim that the natures are proximate subjects of the properties, while the Word is the remote subject of them (Cross 2005, 191). One difference, though, is that I say that the Word is not a subject of a property. Rather, it is in virtue of the nature bearing the property, an ontological phenomenon, that the Word is properly characterized by a predicate, a linguistic phenomenon.

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characterization not to be in the same way as the way he is characterized by the predicate “impassible,” which is aptly said of him in virtue of his divine nature. And so it is false that the Candidate predications are true in the same sense. But then Premises 5 and 6 are false in the Problem. And so the Problem is unsound. As Aquinas says, along a similar line (1920, ST III q.16 a.4 ad.1): It is impossible for contraries to be predicated of the same in the same respects, but nothing prevents their being predicated of the same in different aspects. And thus contraries are predicated of Christ, not in the same, but in different natures.

Here, for Aquinas, the predicates are granted to be contraries, unlike the (P) view. And they are said of the same thing, unlike the (S) view. But they are said “in different natures” somehow. One way to make sense of this “in different natures” is this (C) view. The claim the (C) view makes is that some predicates characterize the person of Christ, and they characterize him in virtue of the way some nature is. The copula of every predication is tacitly modiﬁed to a nature of the subject of the predication, but we’ve never had to consider or say this before, since in any other case we would consider there is only a single nature in the thing for the predicate to be modiﬁed to. But in the case of Christ, there are two. And so we cannot infer from “Christ is P” and “Christ is non-P” to “Christ is P and it is not the case that Christ is P.” Supposing that a union of natures is unique to the incarnation, for any other individual we could substitute in for Christ here we could so conclude. Were there only one nature in play, there would be a tension in reality. For in reality, the very same thing would be both one way and not that way, and in the same sense. But with multiple natures, to show that something is both P and nonP in the same way, one has to show that both predications are predicated using the same copula. And in the case of Christ, they are not—at least so says the proponent of the (C) response. To summarize the view, then, a necessary condition for two predications to be said in the same way of a single subject is for them each to be said of that subject in virtue of the same nature. But this necessary condition is not met in the Candidate predications. So the Candidate predications are not said of Christ in the same sense. So the second conjunct of Incompatible Predications is false, so Incompatible Predications is false, so Premises 5 and 6 of the Fundamental Problem are unsupported. One might worry here that the (C) theory collapses into the (S) theory. What is the difference, anyway, between saying “Christ-qua-human is passible” and “Christ is-qua-human passible?” Don’t both ways have us saying that a particular nature is that in virtue of which the whole person is a certain way? The answer here is that both views do not have us saying of the same one person that he is a certain way. For the (S) theory does not say of the one person of Christ that he is aptly characterized by both “impassible” and “passible.” Rather, two distinct things—Christ-qua-divine and Christ-qua-human—are aptly characterized by these predicates (respectively). And, for the (S) theorist, it is of vital importance that we do not say that one and the same thing is characterized by both passibility and impassibility. The (S) theorist’s only way to block the secundum quid ad simpliciter inference is to deny that the same subject is employed in both Candidate predications. The (C) theorist requires that the same subject is

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employed in both Candidate predications. Hence, the (C) theory is not consistent with the (S) theory. So they are different. Consider the objections to the previous qua theories. This response avoids the objection to (A), since it provides a way to claim that the Candidate predications are true in different senses or ways. It avoids the objection to (S) because one and the same thing is being characterized by the predicates. But for all its beneﬁts, there are problems with this theory as well. The problems are best seen when the theory is distinguished in the same manner as the (P) theory was: between a Substitutional and a Non-Substitutional understanding of modifying the copula. The distinction is the same in type in both cases, but in this case it is applied to the copula, not the predicate. On a Non-Substitutional rendering of the (C) theory, there are different types of copulas. For instance, there might be the God-is, and the creature-is. Or, if the “qua”-modifying happens at a lower level, the human-is and the dog-is. On the Substitutional rendering of the (C) theory, it is one and the same copula in the case of God and creatures, or of humans and dogs, but that copula has built into it, as it were, a variable spot in which to insert different kind terms. As with the (P) theory, I will discuss them in turn.

VI.a. Non-Substitutional Copula Modifying Many objections that the Non-Substitutional (C) theory faces are isomorphic to the problems faced by the Non-Substitutional (P) theory. I will brieﬂy present the ad hoc worry, an objection parallel to the objection from uncommon predicates, which I will call the objection from uncommon characterizing, and an objection parallel to the objection from cheap predicates, which I will call the objection from cheap copulation. I then go on to present two additional objections to the Copula view: that it is difﬁcult to fathom and that it requires a revision to standard logic.

Objection 1: Ad Hoc Worries Just as with the (P) view, one can ask which predications have a modiﬁed copula and which do not. And again, just as with the (P) view, responses of the form “only those predications of Candidate pairs we can’t ﬁgure out how to solve any other way” or “only those predications true of Christ” or “only those predications which contain some predicate we predicate aptly of Christ” appear to be woefully ad hoc. Likewise, as with the (P) theory, one might push a Senor-style objection: You (C) theorists claim that Christ is-qua-human passible. But we still demand to know whether Christ is (simpliciter) passible. If there is such an unmodiﬁed copula, for any predicate, either it or its complement will be apt of Christ. And “passible” and “impassible” appear to be complements. Thus one or the other will be apt of him. So we ask: given the existence of an unmodiﬁed copula, is it true that “Christ is (simpliciter) passible” or is it true that “Christ is (simpliciter) impassible”? In a response isomorphic to the (P) theory response, one reply that answers both the ad hoc worry and the Senor worry is to deny the existence of an

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unmodiﬁed copula. But, again, as with the (P) theory, such a move raises additional objections, which I turn now to consider.

Objection 2: The Objection from Uncommon Characterizing An objection to (P) theories was that the term “mammal” was said equivocally of me and of Fido. The Non-Substitutional (C) theorist denies this, since the same predicate is used in both cases. But she faces a similar worry: while the predicate “mammal” is used univocally of me and of a dog, it is not said of us each in the same way. For “mammal” is said of me in a human sort of way, and it is said of a dog in a canine sort of way. I am humanly a mammal; Fido is caninely a mammal. So while the predicates are common, the modes of characterization are not. We might call this the objection from uncommon characterizings. As with the (P) theory, the predicate can be said of me and of dogs in the same way by pushing the modiﬁer up the chain of kind terms, so that, say, the copula is modiﬁed “-qua-creature.” I am creaturely a mammal; Fido is creaturely a dog. As I already spelled out in Section V.a. Objection 2, this sort of higher-level modifying leads to problems if it is possible for there to be multiple, simultaneous incarnations of the same Divine Person. The same problem arises here. Suppose the Son assumes two human natures. If one assumed nature is sitting and the other standing, then Christ is humanly sitting and humanly standing. But then, providing that, as is normally assumed in the literature, sitting and standing are incompatible intrinsic states, the adverbial modifying will not have resolved this potential Candidate pair.

Objection 3: The Objection from Cheap Copulation An additional beneﬁt that the (C) view has here that the (P) view seems to lack is that it seems as if predicates are constructible on the cheap. That is, I can construct a predicate however I darn well please. If I want a one-place predicate that is apt of something just in case it is not affectable by anything else, period, no matter what, and no matter what ontological kind it falls under, one is hard pressed to ﬁnd a reason why I can’t construct such a predicate. But if I can construct such predicates, we have reason to deny any (P) theory that includes the claim that all predicates are qua-modiﬁed. One can press this objection against the (C) theorist. Can we construct copulas as we construct predicates? If so, there is a tightly parallel objection that faces the (C) theorist here. The (C) theorist has a response here: copulas, unlike predicates, are not constructible things. They are derivative on the natural kinds, one might say, and the kinds themselves are not constructible (even if the predicates by which we refer, sometimes cutting at the joints, other times cutting through the bone) are constructible. And so while I can just willy-nilly compose a predicate, I cannot do likewise with copulas. I do not claim this (C) theoretic response to be ultimately satisfactory, though I do ﬁnd the claim that such things (predicates or copulas) are not constructible more plausible as a (C) theoretic response than as a (P) theoretic response.

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Objection 4: Predications Qua-Modiﬁable to Neither or Both Natures One problem the (P) theories faced is making sense of predications that seem not to be qua-modiﬁable to either nature, or that seem equally qua-modiﬁable to both natures. A similar worry arises for (C) theories in that some qua-modiﬁcations seem ill-suited to modiﬁcation of a single copula. Consider the two example predications: “Christ wills” and “Christ is twonatured.” We must change the ﬁrst predication to bring out the copula: “Christ is willing.” One might understand predications apt of Christ in virtue of both natures as ambiguous between two predications: 22. “Christ wills”: 23. “Christ wills”:

“Christ is-qua-divine willing.” “Christ is-qua-human willing.”

Both “Christ is-qua-human willing” and “Christ is-qua-divine willing” are true, and afﬁrming both leads to no problems for the Conciliar Christologist. To the second, one might understand characterizations such as “Christ is twonatured” in the following way. It is not true due to either nature alone. Christ is two-natured because he is humanly natured and also divinely natured. Where “h” and “d” name his human and divine nature, respectively, we can say: 24. “Christ is two-natured”:

Christ is-qua-h natured, and Christ is-qua-d natured.

So far as I can tell, the Substitutionary (C) theory has a way of responding to the predicates that seem true in virtue of each individual nature in Christ, or that seem true in virtue of neither nature alone.

Objection 5: The Objection from Copula Modifying Being Difﬁcult to Fathom This view is innately harder to understand than the other understandings of quaclauses. We are familiar with predications employing multiple subjects, or predications employing multiple predicates (e.g. I am sitting; you are standing), but understanding multiple “is”s is difﬁcult. What are the relations between the “is”s? It is true that they are all different modes of predicating predicates to subjects. But we cannot have one general “is,” just as the Non-Substitutional (P) theorist cannot go from the speciﬁc predicates “mammal-qua-dog” to the general predicate “mammal” (simpliciter). We cannot allow that generalization, since, were we to allow it, then we could go from “Christ is-qua-human passible” to “Christ is passible.” And likewise for impassibility. So we would end up with two complementary predications true at the same time with the same general copula. That is, we would have reinstated the truth of premise 6. So this view cannot rely upon a general copula. But without a general notion of the copula, it is hard to see the relations between the different copulas in play.

Objection 6: The Objection from Revising Standard Logic A ﬁnal objection to the Non-Substitutional (C) theory is that it appears to require a revision of standard logic. For in standard logic there is no method for

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symbolizing different modes of characterization. Standard logic, for instance, has us represent “Christ is passible” as P(c), where “P” is a predicate and “c” names the object of which the predicate is apt. And Christ is impassible would, it seems, be aptly represented as P(c), where the tilde expresses negation, on the assumption that passibility and impassibility are complementary opposites. There is no means by which one can represent various copulas, unlike the Non-Substitutional (P) theory, on which there are ways of representing more-than-one-place relations. And so this theory requires a revision of logic.19 Neither of these additional objections have been shown to be insuperable. But they require the Non-Substitutional (C) theorist to say much more about how the revised logic would function, and about how to understand the copulas. This counts as a genuine cost.

VI.b. Substitutional Copula Modifying As with the (P) theory, the Substitutionary understanding of the (C) theory resolves many of the problems raised against its Non-Substitutionary counterpart. In what follows I will discuss the Substitutionary (C) theorist’s responses to the problems raised in Section VI.a., as well as some additional problems for the Substitutional (C) theory.

Objection 1: Ad Hoc Worries What principled reason do we have for determining which copulas include tacit modifying? If there really is an unmodiﬁed copula, “is” simpliciter, in addition to “is-qua-human,” then we face Senor’s worry of whether, for instance, “passible” or “impassible” is (simpliciter) apt of Christ. In light of these two worries, the Substitutional (C) theorist may want to qua-modify all copulas.

Objection 2: The Objection from Uncommon Characterizing Given the Substitutional (C) theory, is one and the same copula used of both me and Fido when we say that “Tim and Fido are mammals”? I think so. One and the same copula, “is-qua-y,” is used of both Fido and me. This is true, even if the thing substituted in for y in each case is not the same. Just as there need not be sameness of relata to have sameness of predicate, there need not be sameness of the y in two instances of the copula to have sameness of copula. As I argued earlier, it seems that the copula view requires a revision of logical representation; I know of no standard form for representing such predications. But one might represent them like this, where “THN” names my nature and “FCN” names Fido’s canine nature: 25. “Tim is a mammal”: 26. “Fido is a mammal”:

19

Tim is-qua-THN M. Fido is-qua-FCN M.

I thank Timothy O’Connor and Samuel Newlands for pushing this point in conversation.

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The very same copula, “is-qua-y”—the only copula there is!—is employed in both cases. And the very same predicate is employed in both cases, too—“M.” The difference is in the nature to which the copula is modiﬁed. Both are characterized by the same predicate with the same copula, but in different ways in virtue of their different natures. Thus the Objection from uncommon characterizations fails against the Substitutional (PC) theory.

Objection 3: The Objection from Cheap Copulation Again, the Copula theorist can argue that copulas, unlike predicates, are not creatures of convention. They must be tied to the nature of things in such a way that while I can deﬁne a predicate into existence, even if it could not be apt of anything, I cannot do likewise with a copula.

Objection 4: Characterizations Qua-Modiﬁable to Neither or Both Natures How does the Substitutional (C) theory make sense of predications that seem true in virtue of both natures, or in virtue of neither nature? The answer to the ﬁrst question is the same as the answer to the question addressed to the Non-Substitutional (C) theorist: both “Christ is-qua-human willing” and “Christ is-qua-divine willing” are true, and afﬁrming both leads to no problems for the Conciliar Christologist. To the second, one might understand characterizations such as “Christ is twonatured” in the following way. It is not true due to either nature alone. We can paraphrase the claim as follows, where “h” and “d” name his human and divine nature, respectively: 27. “Christ is two-natured”:

Christ is-qua-h natured, and Christ is-qua-d natured, and (h=d).

That entails at least two natures in Christ. If we added an excluding clause: “and, for any x such that x is a nature of Christ, x is identical to h or to d,” we get the claim that Christ has exactly two natures. The Substitutionary (C) view is silent about whether identity claims or the denials of identity claims should be qua-modiﬁed. And identity claims are not predicative claims, so the “is” of identity is not the “is” of predications. Since there are no predicates in the claims, at least as I have spelled it out above (e.g. (h=d)) one needn’t worry about the theory requiring a “qua” clause being added to that third conjunct of the conjunction. Thus, so far as I can tell, the Substitutionary (C) theory has a way of responding to the predicates that seem true in virtue of each individual nature in Christ, or that seem true in virtue of neither nature alone.

Objection 5: The Objection from Redundant Relata The cost of having redundancy in typical cases of predication is a genuine cost on the Substitutional (C) theory. For, in a typical case, Bob is-qua-Bob’s-humannature sitting. But since natures are persons when they fulﬁll certain conditions

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(spelled out in Chapter 2), Bob is-qua-Bob sitting. And so each typical predication has a redundant variable built into it. The variables are only non-redundant in a single case, so far as we know, the case of the incarnate Christ. This is a fair criticism. One should count it as a cost that one has to modify the copula in order to make sense of Conciliar Christology. I take the cost to be larger for the Substitutional (C) theorist than for the Substitutional (P) theorist. For, while we already have relations in our logical system, and know how to represent them, the same is not true for modiﬁed copulas. On the other hand, though, other discussions already might lead one to claim that the copula is modiﬁed.20 For instance, some in the debate concerning Temporary Intrinsics claim that the copula is modiﬁed to times. If we have to add yet another index to our theory of the copula to make sense of the incarnation, it is a price some have already paid elsewhere. Finally, consider the two additional objections I raised to the Non-Substitutional (C) theory.

Objection 6: The Objection from Copula Modifying Being Difﬁcult to Fathom It is easier to understand the Copula on this Substitutionary view, since there is a single copula being employed in all cases. It is the same copula taking different substitution cases. And so, were the objector to push the point that he cannot make sense of all these copulas with no thing in common between them, he would be missing the distinctive Substitutional mark of this variation of (C) theory. If he understands any copula at all, he understands them all, since there is but one copula to understand.

Objection 7: The Objection from Revising Logic Finally, as to whether the Substitutional (C) theory requires a modiﬁcation of logic, the same thing I said previously for the Non-Substitutional (C) theory is true here, I think. I refer the reader back to that discussion.

VII. CONCLUSION Each of the four ways of understanding the “qua”-move have difﬁculties. I ﬁnd the ﬁrst two to have insuperable difﬁculties. The ﬁrst allows for the secundum quid ad simpliciter inference, which entails that it does not block the contradiction at step 6 of the Problem. The second blocks the contradiction at step 6 only if it entails that there is not one and the same thing that is predicated by both the divine Candidate predicates and human Candidate predicates. But since Conciliar Christology requires that it

20 See Ben Caplan (2005); M. Oreste Fiocco (2010, 72–4); Sally Haslanger (1989); David Lewis (1988; 2001a; 2002); E. J. Lowe (1987; 1988; 2002, 47–9); and Bradley Rettler (2012).

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be the same thing that is predicated by both divine and human Candidate predicates, the (S) response blocks the contradiction at 6 only by being inconsistent with Conciliar Christology. The third, the (P) strategy, comes in two varieties. The second variety, the Substitutional variety, avoids the problems of the Non-Substitutional (P) theory, but it does so at the cost of adding a variable to all predications that is redundant in all but the case of the incarnate Word. The ﬁnal strategy, the (C) strategy, also bifurcates into a Non-Substitutionary and a Substitutionary variety. It is a natural reading of the “qua,” since it is an adverbial reading of it. Nevertheless, it faces difﬁculties. The Non-Substitutional variety faces many of the same problems of the Non-Substitutional (P) theory, and in addition, two more problems (e.g. it is more difﬁcult to grasp and it requires revision in our traditional logical systems). The Substitutional (C) strategy resolves these (P)-shared problems, and resolves the ﬁrst of the two additional problems. One might be unable to accept, for whatever reason, that seemingly intrinsic predications are actually relational, either in the predicate or in the copula. In the next chapter I provide a way to understand Candidate pairs as one-place, nonrelational, consistent predicates.

7 Denying the Incompatibility I . I N T R O D U C TI ON In the preceding chapter I presented six ways of claiming that apparently incompatible predications are true of Christ in different senses, and so the premise of the Problem that I have called Incompatible Predications is false: Incompatible Predications:

There are some predicates that fulﬁll the following conditions: (i) at the same time, (ii) in the same sense, (iii) they must be aptly predicated of anything possessing a divine nature, but (iv) their complements must be aptly predicated of anything possessing a human nature.1

I used the language of “qua” locutions to do so, following the practice of the Conciliar texts. I argued that four of those responses failed or faced grave difﬁculties, and that two, both what I termed “Substitutional” methods of “qua”modifying, were successful. There I argued that were we to understand all predicates as disguised relations, or all copulation as (at least) two-place copulation, then we can deny that both members of a Candidate pair are apt of Christ in the same sense. One will be apt of him with his human nature as the second relatum, the other will be apt of him with his divine nature as the second relatum. Or, on the Copula view, one will be apt of him, characterizing him humanly, and the other apt of him, characterizing him divinely. But one might balk at the idea that every predicate is a disguised relational predicate. Is “sitting” or “thinking” really a relation between a thinker and a nature? In this chapter I present a response to the problem that keeps the predicates oneplaced, and yet still avoids the contradiction in line 7 of the Problem presented in Chapter 4, Section II.c. This sort of response might initially seem the weakest. When we consider our pre-theoretical notions of predicates such as “impassible” and “passible,” or “visible” and “invisible,” it is hard to see how they could be true of the same thing at the same time in the same way. Some video game characters become impassible by collecting a star, or invisible by drinking a potion, and in such cases they go from being passible to being impassible, or from being visible to being invisible.

1 This chapter is based, with extensive overlap, on my article, “A Solution to the Fundamental Philosophical Problem of Christology” in The Journal of Analytic Theology (2014).

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And likewise some characters have parts that are perpetually impassible or invisible, whereas other areas are passible and visible. The Final Boss’s chest, for instance, might be impassible. And maybe even some characters mix these two traits, being completely invisible at some points, and only partially invisible at other points. But what would it be for a character to be both invisible and visible, or both passible and impassible, at the same time, in the same sense? By “in the same sense,” I mean that the predicates in question are deﬁned univocally, except for the negation present in one or the other of the deﬁnitions. For instance, “passible” and “impassible” are said in the same sense when the terms in the two deﬁnitions are used univocally, except for the “not,” which only appears in the deﬁnition of “impassible.” Would a potion that makes a character both visible and invisible at the same time in the same sense be desirous in the game? For what? Would it help the character sneak around? It is hard to see how someone might reasonably claim that something is both impassible and passible, at the same time, in the same way. In this chapter I hope to overcome some of this initial implausibility. There seems to me to be some reason for thinking that the conciliar fathers did not view these predicates as incompatible. For, suppose that they did view these predicates as incompatible. Then surely they would not have said something as obviously contradictory as the fathers at the Second Council of Nicaea say of Christ (Tanner 1990, 162): One and same Christ as both invisible and visible (invisibilem et visibilem) lord, incomprehensible and comprehensible (incomprehensibilem et comprehensibilem), unlimited and limited (incircumscriptum et circumscriptum), incapable and capable of suffering (impassibilem etiam et passibilem), inexpressible and expressible (inscriptibilem et scriptibilem) in writing.

Had they really believed these ﬁve pairs of predicates to be incompatible, they most certainly would not have afﬁrmed that Christ is both visible and invisible, incomprehensible and comprehensible, unlimited and limited, impassible and passible, and inexpressible and expressible. It is a rare feat to be able to contradict oneself so forcefully in a single sentence. Any one of these ﬁve conjuncts would be enough to entail a contradiction, and the fathers do it ﬁve times over! Athanasius says similarly contradictory assertions. Khaled Anatolios (2004, 70) provides as examples the following: “that Christ ‘suffered and did not suffer’ or was ‘weak himself though not himself weak.’ ” The conciliar fathers at the Second Council of Nicaea, between 258 and 335 bishops, must have all missed the obvious contradictory problem (Davis 1990, 308). And then the gathered bishops, legates and patriarchs (according to Wilhelm (1908), 109 in total) who reafﬁrmed this teaching at the Fourth Council of Constantinople must have missed the problem as well, on the supposition that the fathers thought of these ﬁve conjunctions as being composed of incompatible predications. Attributing a failure in simple logic is uncharitable, unless we have no other rival hypothesis to explain what it is we look to explain. And attributing a massive, multigenerational egregious lapse in logical thought among hundreds of learned men (and at least one woman, Empress Irene, who summoned the Second Council of Nicaea and was present for its proceedings) is all the more uncharitable. Better, I think, to posit another explanation. One such explanation is that the predications are not incompatible after all.

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For all I know, the fathers might have meant the predications in a compatible manner when asserted of the same thing at the same time in the same sense, without any added qualiﬁcations. But how to make sense of the predicates if they are compatible? What sort of logical havoc is such compatibility going to generate? And how do we explain our initial intuitions of the incompatibility of the candidate predicates? I turn to these three questions below.

I I . T H E TR U T H C ON D I T I O N S F OR C A N D I D A TE P R E D I C A T E S In this section I provide an initial and plausible understanding of the truth conditions for the predicates “passible” and “impassible” (Section II.a.). I then provide an extended analogy (Section II.b.) as a means to motivating a revised understanding of the truth conditions for the predicates, which I go on to present (Section II.c.).

II.a. Initial Truth Conditions Are the Candidate pairs presented in the Introduction of this chapter incompatible? It is easy to provide intuitive truth conditions for Candidate pairs on which they are. For instance, one might understand “passibility” and “impassibility” as follows: Initial Truth Conditions Passible: s is passible just in case it is possible that at least one other thing causally affect s. Impassible: s is impassible just in case it is not the case that it is possible that at least one other thing causally affect s. Truth conditions such as these are given, for instance, by Marcel Sarot (1990, 365), who says, in his study of the meaning of the term “impassible,” that “the original meaning of ‘impassible’ is ‘incapable of being acted upon by an outside force.’” And Richard Creel (2005, 11) says, in his careful study of impassibility, as Sarot (1990, 365–6), points out, that “‘impassibility is imperviousness to causal inﬂuence from external factors.’” The view of impassibility I consider here, then, is much stronger than weaker views. For instance, consider the view of Rob Lister. He writes: I take it that God is impassible in the sense that he cannot be manipulated, overwhelmed, or surprised into an emotional interaction that he does not desire to have or allow to happen. But this is not at all the same thing as saying that God is devoid of emotion, nor is it the equivalent of saying that he is not affected by his creatures. (Lister 2013, 36)

And note how the Council of Trent uses the term (1982, 29): “He formed man from the slime of the earth, so created and constituted in body as to be immortal and impassible, not however, by the strength of nature, but by the bounty of God.”

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Given the initial truth conditions of the terms, it is not possible for one thing to be both passible and impassible. For, the logical form of these truth conditions is this, where “iff” means “if and only if”: P iff C; IP iff C. Since nothing can be both possibly causally affected and not possibly causally affected, that is, nothing can be both C and C, nothing can fulﬁll the conditions required to be both P and IP. If one is intent on keeping the predications “Christ is impassible” and “Christ is passible” true at the same time and without modiﬁcation, one needs to revise the truth conditions of “passible” and “impassible,” and, more generally, of any Candidate predicates for which one intends to employ this strategy. One desideratum when revising these truth conditions is that one be able to explain, after the revision, the reason why we thought the initial truth conditions were right. In the following sections I will offer one such revision, along with some reasoning to explain why we were prone to explain them otherwise. But ﬁrst, I will offer an analogy to prime your intuitions.

II.b. The Cheerleader Analogy Let me introduce two toy predicates for the sake of analogy. Arm-bent: Arm-unbent:

s is arm-bent just in case s has an arm that is bent 90 or more degrees. s is arm-unbent just in case s has an arm that is not bent at 90 or more degrees.

One might object to using these predicates as examples by noting that, so understood, “arm-bent” and “arm-unbent” are obviously dissimilar to our initial intuitions concerning “passible” and “impassible.” “Passible” and “impassible” appear complementary, whereas “arm-bent” and “arm-unbent” fail complementarity twice over. Not only can something be both arm-bent and arm-unbent, as when a referee gives the facemasking signal during an NFL game. But also, some things are neither arm-bent nor arm-unbent, such as rocks. But if this analogy is supposed to prime our intuitions about what to think of predicates that appear to be complementary, as the predicates “passible” and “impassible” appear, this dissimilarity in appearance vitiates the analogy. One way to gain similarity is to modify the truth conditions for being armunbent in light of this objection. We might take “arm-unbent” to be apt of something just in case that thing does not fulﬁll the conditions for being armbent. That is, one way to meet this objection to the truth conditions for being armunbent is to bring the conditions in line with the standard view of complementarity. Such a response, though, would vitiate the utility of this analogy with respect to the case of Christ. For “arm-unbent” and “arm-bent” are meant to be analogous with “impassible” and “passible.” And Conciliar Christology says both “passible” and “impassible” are apt of the one person, Jesus Christ. So were we to understand “arm-unbent” and “arm-bent” such that they are incompatible, the analogy would have it that “passible” and “impassible” are incompatible, too. And this is precisely what we seek to avoid. Thankfully, modifying the deﬁnitions of our toy predicates is not the only way to gain similarity among the concepts of arm-bent and arm-unbent, on the

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one hand, and passibility and impassibility, on the other. Another means to gain similarity would be, not to change our understanding of the terms, but to change our understanding of the world. In what follows, I suggest a modiﬁcation of our understanding of the world, only as an exercise, and not because I really believe what I’m about to suggest for the sake of analogy. Let me introduce a ﬁction that will be useful in the future application of the cheerleader analogy to the case of Christ. Let me suppose that everything, rocks and all, has at least one arm.2 In such a bizarre case, at least one or the other of arm-bent and arm-unbent will apply to everything that exists, since everything will be such as to have an arm, and that arm will either be bent at or over 90degrees or it will not. This answers the objector’s charge of dissimilarity in part, since now one or the other of the pair of predicates will apply to everything. Though it doesn’t answer it by denying the necessary condition the objector asserted of complementary predications—that at least one of them be predicable of each thing that exists—rather, it answers it by changing our understanding of reality. Now consider a two-armed cheerleader whose left arm is bent more than 90 degrees, but whose right arm is straight. Is it apt to say of that cheerleader “He is arm-bent”? Is it apt to say of him “He is arm-unbent”? My thought is that, given the understanding of the predicates in question, both are apt of him. The predicate, “arm-bent” is apt of him, since he has at least one arm that is such that it is bent more than 90-degrees. And so he fulﬁlls the conditions required to say truthfully “He is arm-bent.” Likewise, though, the predicate “arm-unbent” is apt of him, since he has at least one arm that is such that it is not bent more than 90-degrees. And so he fulﬁlls the conditions required to say truthfully of him “He is arm-unbent.” Our cheerleader has two ways to fulﬁll the conditions required to be either armbent or arm-unbent. And those two ways—his two arms and their positions—are independent as far as arm-bentness is concerned. If he were standing with his left arm in a position in virtue of which it is apt to say of him “He is arm-bent,” and his right arm in a position in virtue of which it is apt to say of him “He is armunbent,” we could aptly say the following things: he is arm-bent; he is arm-unbent; he is arm-bent in virtue of (secundum; qua) his left arm; he is arm-unbent in virtue of (secundum; qua) his right arm. Furthermore, we speak wrongly when we say either of these two things: he is arm-bent in virtue of (secundum; qua) his right arm; he is arm-unbent in virtue of (secundum; qua) his left arm. For, his right arm is not a thing in virtue of which he is aptly called “arm-bent”; and likewise, his left arm is not a thing in virtue of which he is called “arm-unbent.” To further the ﬁction a bit, and to consider the second half of the objection from disanalogy, suppose that our cheerleader were the only thing in existence that had more than one arm, though everything else still had a single arm. And suppose that the logicians and philosophers discussing theories of predication—unlike the fans of the cheerleader—were, as a whole, generally unconvinced of his existence, and of the need to word things in such a way that he “played well” with the

2 Arms are things; does each arm have an arm, too? Is it arms all the way down? An inﬁnite regress of jumbled limbs? Just for the sake of illustration, yes.

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theories of predication they proposed. In such a case, there might be those who understand “arm-unbent” as the objector did above: in terms of a thing’s failing to have an arm bent in excess of 90-degrees. Such an understanding would be materially adequate, so far as everything besides the cheerleader is concerned. And since our imagined theorists do not believe in the cheerleader, the objector’s understanding of the term would appear wholly materially adequate to them. But once we let in our radically different two-armed cheerleader, he messes up the theory. Were there a group of individuals who believed in the cheerleader, and were they inclined to ask philosophical questions about the logical coherence of the things they believed about him, they would understand their terms differently than the cheerleader skeptics (acheerleaderists?) did. And it might not come to pass that the two groups of people would talk about their different understandings, or that they’d even be inclined to. In such a case, each truth condition for “arm-unbent” would have its own community employing it, and each community’s understanding would be adequate for their purposes.

II.c. Applying the Analogy to Christ At this point, the analogy to Christ should be clear. Everything in reality has at least one nature (see Chapter 2, Section II.b. for more on this concept of natures). But Christ, and only Christ, has two natures. Recall that I am understanding natures as concrete particular instances of types of things. So, Christ’s human nature is a body/ soul composite, and not something like a platonic form of Humanity. Now consider predicates such as invisible and visible. We might understand those as follows: Visible: Invisible:

s is visible just in case s has a nature that is perceivable.3 s is visible just in case s has a nature that is not perceivable.

Now consider a two-natured person whose human nature is perceivable, but whose divine nature is unperceivable. Is it true to say of that person “He is visible”? Is it true to say of him “He is invisible”? My thought is that, given the truth conditions for the predicates, both are true of him. The predicate, “visible,” is apt of him, since he has at least one nature that is such that it is perceivable. And so he fulﬁlls the conditions required to say truthfully “He is visible.” Likewise, though, the predicate, “invisible,” is apt of him, since he has at least one nature that is such that it is not perceivable. And so he fulﬁlls the conditions required to say truthfully of him “he is invisible.” Recall the pictorial representation of the incarnation that I provided in Chapter 2, Section IV.e., there called Figure 2.7 (Figure 7.1): 3

A reader might wonder here whether the nature itself is perceivable, or whether what is perceived are the accidental features of the thing. Do we ever see the nature, or do we just see the modes or accidents? To such a reader, I suggest a modiﬁcation of the truth conditions for being visible. Say instead that “s is visible just in case s has a nature that, along with the other ontological components it has, is perceivable.” Then whether the thing seen is the nature or the qualities inhering in the nature, or something else entirely, let whatever it is that I see when I look at you be deemed an “ontological component.”

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Jesus Christ

Figure 7.1. A representation of the hypostatic union

Christ has two ways to fulﬁll the conditions required to be either visible or invisible. And those two ways—his natures and their attributes—are independent as far as visibility is concerned. He possesses the divine nature in virtue of which it is true to say of him “He is invisible,” and he possesses a human nature in virtue of which it is true to say of him “He is visible.” So we could truly say the following things: he is visible; he is invisible; he is visible in virtue of (secundum; qua) his human nature; he is invisible in virtue of (secundum; qua) his divine nature. Furthermore, we speak wrongly when we say either of these two things: he is visible in virtue of (secundum; qua) his divine nature; he is invisible in virtue of (secundum; qua) his human nature. For, his divine nature is not a thing in virtue of which he is aptly called “visible”; and likewise, his human nature is not a thing in virtue of which he is called “invisible.” Consider the two ﬁctional assumptions I made in the cheerleader case: Everything has one arm and nothing but our cheerleader has two arms. Put in terms of natures, these assumptions are less obviously ﬁctitious. For, while it is true that not everything has a hylomorphic compound as its nature (e.g. God, angels, propertyrole-fulﬁllers, etc.), there is still reason to say that every particular thing is an instance of some type of thing. The newly revised second assumption—that only one thing has two natures—is even more plausible. While there are many two-armed things that we could point to as counterexamples to the original second assumption, we have no other twonatured things to point to as counterexamples. Furthermore, were there other two-natured things, we’d most likely say the same things about them as we say about Christ here. Scotus does just this. As Richard Cross (2005, 200) quotes Scotus: This does not follow: “this animal is blind; therefore it does not see”, unless the animal has just one nature, to which one visual system belongs. For if the animal had two natures, to which two visual systems belonged, it would follow only that the animal does not see according to that nature according to which it is blind.4

I take the point to be that the following is not a valid inference form: “x is non-F,” thus “it is not the case that x is F.” For if x has two natures, and each nature is such that it has something in virtue of which it could make apparently incompatible predicates apt of the one x, then that other nature could be that in virtue of which the predication “x is F” is true. The point here, says the respondent in question, is that the other nature might well do the work of making it true that “Christ is P,” and so it is invalid to infer 4

Cross cites Scotus, RP 3. II. 1–2, n.4 (Wadding, xi 459a).

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from one nature making a predication of a negative true of a person (x is non-P), that the denial of the positive predication is true (it is not the case that x is P). Similarly, Ludwig Ott (1960, 161) says, “predication of idioms is valid in positive statements not in negative ones, as nothing may be denied to Christ which belongs to Him according to either nature.”

II.d. Revised Truth Conditions Return to the test predicates I have been employing in this chapter. Rather than understanding the truth conditions for the terms “passible” and “impassible” as they were given previously, which led to difﬁculties in taking the predications true of Christ in a non-qualiﬁed manner, here is a different way to understand them: Revised Truth Conditions Passible: s is passible just in case s has a concrete nature that it is possible for some other thing to causally affect. Impassible: s is impassible just in case s has a concrete nature that it is impossible for some other thing to causally affect. The only time that something will be able to be both passible and impassible is in the case of something having more than one nature. For, in the case of onenatured things, one can derive a contradiction from that thing being both passible and impassible. To see the contradiction, suppose for argument’s sake that some one thing, Bob, is both passible and impassible in the revised senses of the terms. And also suppose that Bob is single-natured. Then, by being passible, Bob has a nature that it is possible for some other thing to causally affect. Call that thing x. Since that nature is his only nature, and since it is possible that that nature be causally affected by x, it is false that Bob has a nature such that the nature itself is unable to be causally affected by something else. But then the righthand side of the biconditional truth conditions for s’s being impassible is false: Bob has no nature that it is impossible for something to causally affect. And so it is false that Bob is impassible. But we supposed that he is impassible for argument’s sake. So we have derived a contradiction: Bob is impassible and it is false that Bob is impassible. Thus, our assumption for argument must be false. If something is onenatured, then it cannot be both passible and impassible in the revised sense of the terms.

III. THE LOGICAL RELATIONS AMONG THE R E V I S E D T RU T H C O ND I TI ON S In this section I present the truth conditions for four predicates: “passible,” “impassible,” “non-passible,” and “non-impassible” (Section III.a.). I then discuss ﬁve sets of questions concerning the logical relations among the predicates (Section III.b.). Building on that work, I present the logical relations among the revised predicates (Section II.c.).

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III.a. The Predicates and Their Truth Conditions It might be useful here to provide truth conditions for the complements of these predicates, and then show the logical interrelations between the four predicates gained by so understanding the complements. Consider these predicates: S is: Passible (P): Non-Passible (NP): Impassible (I): Non-Impassible (NI):

When: It has a nature that is possibly causally affectable. It is not the case that it has a nature that is possibly causally affectable. It has a nature that it is impossible that other things causally affect. It is not the case that it has a nature that it is impossible that other things causally affect.

It is one thing to offer stipulated truth conditions of the predicates in question that seem to avoid the difﬁculties at hand; it is another thing to explain the terms in a way that makes clear why they avoid the difﬁculties. What are the logical relations between these predicates? Can one derive a contradiction from these truth conditions, along with Conciliar Christology and No Complementary Predications? We assume Conciliar Christology and No Complementary Predications for two reasons apiece. First, a reason for assuming both: this is supposed to be a response to the Fundamental Problem that only denies Incompatible Predications. And so, were we to assume the other two assumptions for the Problem and derive a contradiction, that would show that this response fails at what it attempts to do. A second reason to assume Conciliar Christology derives from the state of the dialectic. At this point, the proponent of Conciliar Christology is attempting to defend the coherence of his views. And if he is attempting to defend the coherence of a claim, he ought to be able to draw upon the resources of that claim in his defense. A second reason to assume No Complementary Predications is that it seems clearly to be true (see Chapter 4, Section III). In the following, I will draw conclusions concerning the logical relations between the four predicates whose truth conditions I have stipulated above. To do so, I will assume, for the sake of argument, an entailment of Conciliar Christology: that Christ is passible and impassible. Were the interlocutor to disallow this assumption, it would amount to the following: challenging the coherence of Conciliar Christology while not allowing the opponent to employ the tenets of Conciliar Christology in his response to the charge. Now consider these sets of questions. I make these assumptions as the beginning of a conditional proof. My goal is to show the following conditional is true: if Conciliar Christology is true, and if it is impossible for incompatible predicates to be said of the same thing at the same time in the same sense, and if we understand the predicates in the revised sense I listed above, then there is no contradiction in the Conciliar Christologist’s claims that Christ is passible and impassible, mutable and immutable, etc.

III.b. Question Sets Question Set 1: Are being non-passible and being impassible the same? Are passible and non-impassible the same? Or, aside from questions of identity, we

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can ask: is it true that, necessarily, something is non-passible iff it is impassible? Is it true that, necessarily, something is passible iff it is non-impassible? Answer Set 1: “No” to all four questions. Christ who is both P and I, given our assumption, is a counterexample to answering “Yes” to any of the four questions. I will consider these questions in order. Suppose NP and I were the same. Then, since Christ is I, and since NP and I are the same, he is also NP. But, by Conciliar Christology, he is P. So something (i.e. Christ) would be aptly predicated by both complementary predicates: P and NP. And that, given the truth conditions for passible and non-passible, is impossible. Thus, NP and I are not the same. Similar reasoning shows that P and NI are not the same. For, suppose they were. Then, since Christ is P, he is also NI. But, by Conciliar Christology, he is I. So something (i.e. Christ) would be aptly predicated by both complementary predicates: I and NI. And that, given the truth conditions for impassible and nonimpassible, is impossible. Thus, P and NI are not the same. Suppose that it is true that, necessarily, something is NP if and only if it is I. From that it follows that if something is I, then it is NP. But Christ is I. So Christ is NP. But again, by Conciliar Christology, Christ is P. Thus Christ is both P and NP. And that, given the truth conditions for passible and non-passible, is impossible. Thus, it is false that, necessarily, something is NP if and only if it is I. Finally, suppose that it is true that, necessarily, something is P if and only if it is NI. From that it follows that if something is P, then it is NI. But Christ is P. So Christ is NI. But again, by Conciliar Christology, Christ is I. Thus Christ is both I and NI. And that, given the truth conditions for impassible and non-impassible, is impossible. Thus, it is false that, necessarily, something is P if and only if it is NI. Conclusion Set 1: C1. It is false that non-passible=impassible: C2. It is false that passible=non-impassible: C3. It is false that, necessarily, something is non-passible iff it is impassible: C4. It is false that, necessarily, something is passible iff it is nonimpassible:

(NP=I). (P=NI). □(NP$I). □(P$NI).

Question Set 2: Does being impassible entail being non-passible? Does being nonpassible entail being impassible? Answer Set 2: It is false that being I entails being NP, but it is true that being NP entails being I. It is false that being I entails being NP. For, suppose that being I does entail being NP. Then, as argued above, since Christ is I, he is NP. But since he is P as well, it follows that he is P and NP. And that is impossible. So it is false that being I entails being NP. Being NP does entail being I.5 To see why, suppose for reductio that it is false that being NP entails being I. If it is false that being NP entails being I, then it is

5 This argument takes as an assumption that the domain is not empty. This is a reasonable assumption, and is, in fact, entailed by most traditional forms of theism, on which God is a necessary being, and so there is no empty world. The argument also assumes that everything has at least one concrete nature. If there were something natureless, then it would be false that NP entails being I. I take

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possible that something is NP but not I. Call such a thing “Sally.” Now, Sally either has one nature, or more than one nature. I will consider each possibility in turn in what follows. Assume for argument that she has one nature. In such a possible situation, it is true to say, given that Sally is NP, and given the truth conditions for being NP provided above, that S1. It is not the case that (Sally has a nature and it is possible that other things causally affect that nature).

And since, by hypothesis, Sally is not I, it is also true to say, given the truth condition of I above, that S2. It is not the case that (Sally has a nature and it is impossible that other things causally affect that nature).

Sally, like all things, has at least one nature, though. So the ﬁrst conjunct of both S1 and S2 is true. It is a truth of logic that if (A&B) is true, and A is true, then B must be false. (For instance, if it is false that I have both an apple and a banana in my ofﬁce, and I have an apple in my ofﬁce, then it is false that I have a banana in my ofﬁce.) And so, since both S1 and S2 are of the form (A&B), and the ﬁrst conjunct of each conjunction is true, the second conjunct of each must be false. But then it follows from S1 and the truth of its ﬁrst conjunct that: S3: It is not the case that it is possible that other things causally affect Sally’s nature.

And from S2 and the truth of its ﬁrst conjunct that: S4: It is not the case that it is impossible that other things causally affect Sally’s nature.

S4, though is equivalent to S5: S5: It is possible that other things causally affect Sally’s nature.

S5 and S3 are contradictory opposites. Thus we have derived a contradiction. We can conclude at this point that if something has one nature, then a contradiction follows. The argument, put slightly differently, is as follows: If Sally has one nature and it is possible that Sally is both NP and not I, then in such a situation it would be false that it is possible that other things causally affect her nature (S3) and also false that it is impossible that other things causally affect her nature (S4). But, that consequent is impossible. And so it is not the case that it is possible that Sally is both NP and not I, given that she has only one nature. And if it is not the case that it is possible that Sally is both NP and not I, then it is necessary that, if she is NP, then she is I. And so, given that she has only one nature, it is necessary that if she is NP, then she is I. Similar reasoning shows that anything with more than one nature is also such that, necessarily, if it is NP, then it is I. For being NP requires having no nature

this to be a reasonable assumption, too, given the understanding of “concrete nature” provided in Chapter 2, Section II.

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that is causally affectable. And so even if something had eleven natures, none of them would be able to be causally affected, given that the thing is NP, and so each of them would be unable to be causally affected. Thus, whether something has one or more than one nature, necessarily, if it is NP then it is I. Conclusion Set 2: C5. Being impassible does not entail being non-passible: C6. Being non-passible does entail being impassible:

□(I!NP). □(NP!I).

Question Set 3: Does being passible entail being non-impassible? Does being nonimpassible entail being passible? Answer Set 3: It is false that being P entails being NI, but it is true that being NI entails being P. It is false that being P entails being NI. For, suppose that being P does entail being NI. Then, as argued above, since Christ is P, he is NI. But since he is I as well, it follows that he is I and NI. And this is impossible. So it is false that being I entails being NP. Being NI does entail being P. One quick way to see this entailment is as follows. Recall the above argument that being NP entails being I. Contraposed, NP entails being I is equivalent to NI entails being P. And so, given the success of my previous argument, the conclusion we seek to derive here follows. Another way to show that NI entails being P is as follows. Suppose for reductio, in an argument that is structurally similar to the previous argument for the claim (in answer set 2) that being NP does entail being I, that it is false that being NI entails being P. If it is false that being NI entails being P, then it is possible that something is NI but not P. Call such a thing “Reginald.” Now, Reginald either has one nature, or more than one nature. I will consider each possibility in turn in what follows. Suppose Reginald only has one nature. In such a possible situation, it is true to say, given that Reginald is NI, and given the truth condition for being NI, that: R1.

It is not the case that (Reginald has a nature and it is impossible that other things causally affect that nature).

And since, by hypothesis, Reginald is not P, given the truth condition for being P, it is also true to say that: R2.

It is not the case that (Reginald has a nature and it is possible that other things causally affect that nature).

Reginald, like all things, has a nature, though. So the ﬁrst conjunct of both R1 and R2 is true. Both R1 and R2 are of the form (A&B), and the ﬁrst conjunct of each conjunction is true, so by the same truth of logic cited previously, the second conjunct of each must be false. But then it follows from R1 and the truth of its ﬁrst conjunct that: R3:

It is not the case that it is impossible that other things causally affect Reginald’s nature.

And it follows from R2 and the truth of its ﬁrst conjunct that: R4:

It is not the case that it is possible that other things causally affect Reginald’s nature.

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R3, though, is equivalent to R5: R5: It is the case that it is possible that other things causally affect Reginald’s nature.

R4 and R5 are contradictory opposites. Thus we have derived a contradiction. So, given that the thing has only one nature, it follows that, necessarily, being NI does entail being P. The argument, put slightly differently, is as follows: Assume Reginald has only one nature. If it is possible that Reginald is both NI and not P, then in such a situation it would be false both that it is possible that other things causally affect his nature (R4) and that it is impossible that other things causally affect his nature (R3). But, that consequent is impossible. And so it is not the case that it is possible that Reginald is both NI and not P. And if it is not the case that it is possible that Reginald is both NI and not P, then it is necessary that, if he is NI, then he is P. And so, still supposing he has only one nature, it is necessary that if he is NI, then he is P. Consider the case in which Reginald has more than one nature. Again, as with Question Set 2, an increase in natures would not affect the entailment relation. For being NI requires having no nature that is causally unaffectable. And so even if something had eleven natures, none of them would be causally unaffectable, and so each of them would be able to be causally affected. Thus, whether something has one or more than one nature, necessarily, if it is NI then it is P. Thus, it is necessary that being NI entails being P. Conclusion Set 3: C7. Being passible does not entail being non-impassible: C8. Being non-impassible does entail being passible:

□(P!NI). □(NI!P).

Question Set 4: Can something be both non-passible and non-impassible? Answer Set 4: No.6 Suppose, for reductio, that it is possible for something to be both NP and NI. Call that something “Darla.” In such a scenario, since Darla is NP, given C6, she is also I. And since Darla is NI, given C8, she is also P. Thus, Darla is NP, NI, I, and P. This, though, is doubly contradictory. For, given their truth conditions, nothing can be both I and NI, or both P and NP. Thus, the assumption of the possibility of something being both NP and NI has entailed a contradiction, and so it is false: It is impossible for something to be both NP and NI. Conclusion Set 4: C9: It is not possible for something to be both NP and NI:

e(NP&NI).

Question Set 5: Can something be both passible and impassible? Answer Set 5: The proponent of Conciliar Christology must answer “yes” to this question. Is there reason to think that such an answer is contradictory? I see no reason to think that something cannot be both P and I, given the conclusions so far. Suppose it is possible for something to be both I and P. Call that thing “Alex.” Since Alex is I, he is not NI. Since he is P, he is not NP. So Alex is I, P, NI, and NP.

6

This again supposes that there are no things with no concrete nature.

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Since he is both I and P, the following two claims are true: A1: Alex has a nature and it is possible that other things causally affect that nature.

And A2: Alex has a nature and it is impossible that other things causally affect that nature.

Were Alex to have only one nature, then A1 and A2 would be contradictory. For, it cannot be both possible and impossible for other things to causally affect one and the same nature, at least without modifying the proposition in same way (e.g. adding temporal indices so that the nature is not both causally affectable and not causally affectable at the same time). Thus, if A1 and A2 are both true, then Alex has at least two natures. I have not provided an argument for the consistency of one thing being both P and I. Rather, I have considered an argument similar in form to the previous arguments I have given (the Sally, Reginald, and Darla arguments), and shown that it does not show an inconsistency derivable from the supposition that one thing is P and I. What we have derived is that anything that is both P and I is something with at least two natures. But this conclusion is amenable to Conciliar Christology. Conclusion Set 5: It has yet to be derived that the following is impossible, and Conciliar Christology entails its truth: C10:

It is possible that something be both P and I: e(P&I).

III.c. The Logical Relations Presented What, then, are the logical relations between the four predicates: P, NP, I, and NI? It might be helpful here to borrow the traditional language and logical distinctions associated with the square of opposition. We can deﬁne the terms “complementary,” “contrary,” and “subcontrary” as follows, letting “P” and “Q” stand for predicates: Standard Logic of Predications: P and Q are Necessarily, for any x, P is apt of x just in case it is not complementary: the case that Q is apt of x. P and Q are It is possible that P and Q both are inapt of some contraries: object, but it is impossible that they are both apt of any object. P and Q are It is possible that P and Q both are apt of some object, subcontraries: but it is impossible that they are both inapt of any object. By way of example, the initial truth conditions for “passible” and “impassible” were complements; being wholly black and being wholly white are contraries; and being wholly non-black and being wholly non-white are subcontraries. Given these terms, we can deﬁne the relations between P, NP, I, and NI. As is clear from the truth conditions presented at the beginning of Section III.a., both P and NP, on the one hand, and I and NI, on the other, are complementary pairs.

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Contrary of

Non-impassible (NI)

Subaltern

Complement of

Subaltern

Impassible (I)

Subcontrary of

Passible (P)

Figure 7.2. A square of opposition for Candidate Predicates

NP and NI can both be inapt of something, according to Conciliar Christology. For, given Conciliar Christology, they are both inapt of Christ, of whom both P and I are apt. However, they cannot both be apt of something, as C9 shows. Thus, NP and NI are contraries. I and P can both be apt of something, according to Conciliar Christology. For, given Conciliar Christology, they are both apt of Christ. However, they cannot both be inapt of something. Here’s why. Suppose, for reductio, that it is possible for both I and P to be inapt of something. Call such a thing “Terrance.” Then, the complements of I and P would both be apt of Terrance. So, Terrance would be both NI and NP. But C9 shows that it is impossible for something to be both NI and NP. Contradiction! Thus, it is not the case that it is possible that both I and P be apt of something. Thus, I and P are subcontraries.7 The last two logical relations to be considered are the relations between I and NP, on the one hand, and P and NI, on the other. These have been discussed above. C5 and C6 show that while NP entails I, I does not entail NP. And C7 and C8 show that while NI entails P, P does not entail NI. This relation—entailing, but not being entailed by—is traditionally called the relation of subalternation, where the subaltern is the term that is entailed by, but does not entail, the other. And so P is the subaltern of NI, and I is the subaltern of NP. Pictorially, one can represent the relations between these predicates by borrowing the form of the Traditional Square of Opposition as in Figure 7.2. This response to the Problem, then, rejects Incompatible Predications, precisely at the point at which it requires incompatible predicates to be true of Christ. Rather than being complementaries, or even contraries, this response claims that the Candidate Pairs are subcontraries. They can both be true of something, provided that (a) we understand them as they are given here, and (b) that it is possible for something to have more than one nature. The latter requirement is met in our assumption of Conciliar Christology. Concerning the former, I have no reason to doubt the fathers meant the terms in the senses I stipulate they have here. Robert Jenson (2009, 120) notes that: When both answers to a question posed between contradictories seem wrong or both right, the question may be wrongly posed . . . . Perhaps, in divinis, “x est passibilis” is 7 For another person who claims that the supposedly incompatible predicates of Christ, “is a man” and “is God” are subcontraries, see Kelly (1994, 10)

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not the right contradictory to “x est impassibilis.” Perhaps “x non est impassibilis” with the double negative is, in divinis, the precisely right stipulation.

Taking “non est impassibilis” to mean what I mean by “non-impassible,” I take Jenson to be brieﬂy gesturing toward a theory of the sort I spell out in this section.8 I take myself to have presented the logic of the predicates in a reasonably clear and cogent manner. But even if the truth conditions of the terms and their logical interrelations are clear, and even if we have a helpful analogy to aid us, we still have to grapple with the intuitions with which many of us began this study: that these predicates are incompatible. Is there a way to salvage some of these intuitions for the proponent of this response to the Problem? I believe that there is.

I V . EX PL A I N I N G OU R I NT U I T I O N S In this section I will discuss two intuitions we have, which might count against the understanding of the predicates that I presented in Section III. They are: the intuition if “x is non-F” is true, then “it is not the case that x is F” is true (IV.a.) and the intuition that the candidate predicates are incompatible (IV.b.).

IV.a. If “x is non-F” is True, then “it is not the case that x is F” is True Recall the plausible principle I introduced in Chapter 4 (Section III.a.): 10. If “x is non-F” is true, then “it is not the case that x is F” is true.

10 seemed intuitively to be apt in the cases of Candidate predicates, such as the predicates I begin this chapter discussing; e.g. if Christ is invisible, then it is not the case that Christ is visible. But if such predicate pairs are really subcontraries, then 10 is false. For, given that passible and impassible are subcontraries, they can both be true of the same thing, and so there are cases in which the antecedent is true but the consequent is false. What, then, of 10 and its intuitive pull? Here are two things we might do. First, we might make it explicit that 10 only applies to complementary predicates, in which case we need not modify it, and we can still afﬁrm its truth. Since, on the view being sketched in this chapter, the pairs of candidate predicates are not incompatible when said of the same thing at the same time in the same way, they are not complementary. And so, for instance, “passible” and “impassible” are not valid substitution instances of 10. Or, as a second way of attempting to do justice to the intuitive pull of 10, one might allow it to take predicates such as “passible” and “impassible” as valid substitution instances, but add an additional antecedent to 10: 10*.

If x only has one nature, then (if “x is non-F” is true, then “it is not the case that x is F” is true).

8 Other things he says, though, make it clear that he does not have exactly this theory in mind. For he says that neither the predicate “passible” nor the predicate “impassible” is apt of God (Jenson 2009, 120). If neither is apt of God, then the terms do not fulﬁll the conditions for being sub-contraries as I claim them to be.

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The proponent of this response can claim that 10* is true. For in any case of a single-natured thing, it functions just as 10 does. And in any case of a multinatured thing, the whole conditional is true in virtue of having a false antecedent. Almost any intuitive pull 10 had would be had by 10* as well. The proponent of this response might continue that we shouldn’t expect our intuitions to be able to decide between these two principles, given the fact that our intuitions have been honed in a context where we only ever reason about one-natured things.

IV.b. Intuitive Incompatibility What of our intuition that the relevant predicates cannot be apt of the same thing at the same time? We can agree with that assessment, in almost all cases. And it is only such cases that we consider in almost every circumstance. Again, we can salvage this intuition by claiming that the predicates, though not incompatible full stop, are incompatible given an assumption: the assumption that a thing has only one nature. In fact, in such a case of a thing with one nature, the predicates “passible” and “nonimpassible,” on the one hand, and “impassible” and “non-passible,” on the other, are necessarily coextensive. And from this it follows, given the assumption that the beings in question are one-natured, that passible and impassible are complementary, as are non-passible and non-impassible. Or, put otherwise, given a domain of all and only one-natured things, C3, C4, C5, and C7 turn out to be false. Concerning one-natured things, then, the revised truth conditions collapse back into the original truth conditions. Or, to be more precise, necessarily, for any one natured-thing, it is passible (in the original sense) if and only if it is passible (in the revised sense) if and only if it is non-impassible (in the revised sense). And necessarily, for any one-natured thing, it is impassible (in the original sense) if and only if it is impassible (in the revised sense) if and only if it is non-passible (in the revised sense). Knowing that the two rival views of the truth conditions of the predicates under discussion agree in all cases but the case of Christ, we might well ask ourselves whether we really are so conﬁdent that the conciliar fathers meant the terms in the original way we interpreted them. If so, whence the conﬁdence? And if not, here we have a method of responding to the Problem. In the remainder of this chapter I will consider objections to this response to the Problem.

V . O B J E C TI O NS TO T H E R E PL Y F RO M D EN Y I N G T H E IN C O M P A TI B I L I TY On the reply sketched in this chapter, one can grant that, were someone to believe all three assumptions of the Fundamental Problem, then that person would contradict herself. The respondent then goes on to deny the truth of Incompatible Predications (iv), for the reasons given in Section III of this chapter. Such a person would also deny Premise 4 of the Problem, which rests on Incompatible Predications (iv), as well as Steps 5–7. Though, since such a respondent denies the truth of Incompatible Predications, she will accept the truth of 8 and 9.

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This response to the Problem ﬁts well with the metaphysics of the incarnation I presented in Chapters 2 and 3. The “qua” clauses do the same work that they do in standard cases: they point to the relevant bits of reality to make claims true; they are ontological laser pointers. They do not modify the predications they are attached to, since, on this view, the predications stand in no need of modiﬁcation to avoid contradiction. Rather than starting with incompatible predicates and using a “qua” clause to modify away the incompatibility, one starts with compatible predicates and uses a “qua” clause to point to that nature which is doing the truthmaking work. Nevertheless, we ought to consider objections to the response. Below I will discuss eight such objections.

Objection 1: Out of the Blue This response requires the stipulation of an unintuitive, unreasonable notion of predicates and predication. You can’t posit this crazy natured concept of predicates out of the blue. No one has ever thought that. Reply: I have no evidence that no one has ever held this theory of predication. And I have no evidence that the fathers did not hold the account of predicates that builds natures into the predicates in question. But, suppose, for argument’s sake, that no one has ever explicitly endorsed this theory of predication. No one has ever needed to endorse it, outside the possibility of a two-or-more-natured thing. And, so far as I know, Christology (and perhaps some science ﬁction) is the only place one ﬁnds two-natured things. And so it makes sense that outside a Christological context no one has asserted this theory of predicates (again, assuming it is true that it has never been asserted). In this debate, it is clear that the fathers would not have understood the candidate predicates in the original manner in which they are incompatible and also predicated them of Christ. That way lies a clear and odious contradiction. And even if we can’t say that they meant the predicates I spell out here, we can say that one way to remain true to the texts is to revise our understanding of predicates such that the truth condition of each predicate has built into it the clause that the thing in question has a nature such that . . . It might be the case that nowadays we do not use these predicates in this way. And it might also be the case that, with enough historical digging, we could ﬁnd out how the likes of Pope Leo and the fathers at Second Nicaea and Fourth Constantinople understood these predicates. I am not here claiming that this is what the fathers meant; I’m claiming that it might be what they meant, and were it what they meant, then we have a response to the Fundamental Problem. When I dig around looking for evidence of whether Leo the Great took the predicates he predicated of Christ to be incompatible, it looks to me as if the evidence is on my side. For instance, Geoffrey Dunn (2001b) focuses on the work of Leo the Great, and, in particular, his Christmas Homilies. Of them, Dunn writes (2001b, 81): What we discover in these homilies is acknowledgment that impassibility is part of the nature of divinity, that Jesus was passible through his human nature, and that Jesus could be both impassible and passible at the same time without there being any contradiction.

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Here Dunn claims that the Saint did not mean the terms passible and impassible in a contradictory sense. If that’s true, then he did not mean those predicates to have the initial truth conditions. What goes for St Leo seems true for Emperor Justinian, too. He writes in his “Against the Monophysites”: [Christ] suffers and does not suffer by virtue of his different natures. In his humanity he suffers in the ﬂesh as man, but in his divinity he is impassible as God. (Wesche 1997, 58)

Here one can read Justinian as saying that it is because of his human nature that he suffers, while in his divine nature he does not suffer—or, what I think is better to say, it is in his divine nature that he is impassible. And that “because of ” can be spelled out as I suggest in this chapter, such that both predicates that are incompatible of anything with a single nature are apt of Christ, in virtue of his two natures. In fact, an earlier text in the same letter gives credence to this reading: we are taught to confess that to suffer and not to suffer belong not to the same nature, but to one and the same hypostasis of our Lord Jesus Christ, for things that are contrary to each other cannot occur simultaneously in one and the same nature. (Wesche 1997, 38)

Here I take Justinian to be saying that predicates that are related as contraries, given that the thing in question has but a single nature, can both be apt of Christ, in virtue of his two natures. As such, these predicates are not understood in the sense of the initial truth conditions. In a later writing, “The Edict on the True Faith,” he says something similar: But when we confess that Christ is God and man, it is impious to say that only one nature or essence exists in him for it is impossible that our Lord Jesus Christ is simultaneously and in one and the same nature both before the ages and in time, or impassible and passible; rather we correctly confess these things by referring them to his one hypostasis or prosopon. (Wesche 1997, 169)

Perhaps, then, my revised conditions are not entirely out of the blue. In fact, it might not even matter whether the fathers meant this interpretation of the terms. Suppose, for analogy, that the references to spirit in the Psalms and the book of Genesis are really divinely inspired foreshadowing of the revelation of the Holy Spirit of the Trinity. If that’s right, would it be necessary that the authors of those texts understood the spirit in that way for it to be a plausible interpretation of the text itself? I would not think that a necessary condition for those texts to be properly interpreted as referring to the Holy Spirit is Moses or David (or whoever wrote the texts) being explicit Trinitarians.9 There is good reason to prefer theories that do not contradict the intentions of the authors (here, the fathers), but must they have meant the predicates in the way I describe for my account to be plausible? Couldn’t they have been agnostic with respect to the particulars? If they were agnostic about the particulars, that would not be detrimental to my account.

9

I thank Kathryn Pogin for this helpful analogy.

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Objection 2: No Natures This response to the problem, alleges the second objector, requires a theory of predication on which predicates are apt only if things have natures. If there are no natures of the sort required for this theory to work, then nothing at all has any predicates true of it. And there are no natures of the sort required for this theory. So no predicates are apt of anything. But some predicates are surely apt of some things. We haven’t misﬁred with our language for all the history of language. Furthermore, were no predicates apt of anything at all, Conciliar Christology would be false; for, Conciliar Christology requires that some predicates be apt of Christ. And it requires that some be apt of other things as well. For instance, the church is “one, holy, catholic and apostolic”; Mary is the theotokos, etc. And so this theory is false. Reply: The proponent of this view must afﬁrm the existence of natures, in whatever sense natures are required for this theory of predication. And so the proponent of this response must deny the premise of the objector’s argument that states that there are no natures of the sort required for this theory. Two questions we can ask here are whether such an afﬁrmation of natures is an additional cost for the proponent of this strategy of responding to the Problem, and whether such an afﬁrmation is costly for others who are not worried about Christology. In answer to the ﬁrst question, the afﬁrmation of such natures is an additional ontological supposition for her only if it is a commitment in addition to her commitment to natures in virtue of her afﬁrmation of Conciliar Christology. But the natures required for this theory are already required for her Christology (see Chapter 1, Section IV, and Chapter 2, Section II). In answer to the second question, whether or not these natures are ontologically costly to other folks will need to be considered on a case by case basis. But so long as the person allows for instances of types (for dogs, birds, etc.) she will be committed to concrete natures in the sense required for this view.

Objection 3: Difference Where There is None NP and I are the same predicate. You are introducing difference where there is none. Reply: While I concede that there would be no difference in extension were there no two-natured things, if there are two-natured things, as Conciliar Christology teaches, there is a difference. And so to make this objection work, one has to assume the falsity of a conjunct of Conciliar Christology. That’s a subpar trait in an argument against Conciliar Christology.

Objection 4: Qua-Strategy Restated This strategy is just the same as one of the qua-strategies discussed previously, perhaps the Substitutional (P) theory (see Chapter 6, Section V.b.). Reply: No it is not. All those strategies require keeping the predicates as incompatible when predicated simpliciter of something, but having them be

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compatible when predicated secundum quid in some way or other. This strategy has the predicates being compatible when predicated simpliciter of a thing. And so this strategy is unlike all those other strategies. Also, the predicates are one-placed here, but two-placed in the Substitutional (P) theory.

Objection 5: Predications of Natures You claim that the predicate “impassible” should be understood as “has a nature that is unable to be causally affected.” But this truth condition leads to problems. For, the conciliar texts predicate “impassible” of both the person of Christ and the divine nature of Christ, as we saw in Chapter 1, Section III. And they predicate “passible” of both the person of Christ and the human nature of Christ. While the person of Christ does have a nature that is unable to be causally affected, his divine nature does not itself have a nature that is unable to be causally affected. And while Christ does have a nature that is able to be causally affected, his human nature does not itself have a nature that is able to be causally affected. Ought we to claim that concrete natures have concrete natures? That way leads an inﬁnite regress. In general, this theory requires that everything, in order to have predicates apt of it, has to have a nature, including natures. That’s a lot to claim. Reply: Here are a few possible replies. One might revise the revised, stipulated truth conditions. Rather than “impassible” being understood as “has a nature that is unable to be affected,” we might understand it as “has or is a nature that is unable to be affected.” Or we might retain our previous truth condition and understand the term “has” such that x has n just in case x is n, or x contains n. This is similar to the common deﬁnition of “part,” whereby a thing as a whole counts as a part of itself. Such parts—parts identical to the wholes—are called “improper parts”; similarly, we might talk about “improper having” which would refer to the ﬁrst disjunct of the stipulated deﬁnition of “has” above. One might reply to this second response to the objection by claiming that it is barbarizing two things now: the truth condition for the predicate, and the deﬁnition of the having. This is a lot of barbarism for saving Conciliar Christology. Having, the objector claims, is not the same as being. You are identical with what you are. But you are not identical with what you have. And so having is not being. To this, consider an analogous argument. Some might claim that parthood just doesn’t allow a whole to be counted as its part. For, the whole is greater than its parts. But no whole is greater than itself. And so no whole is numbered among its parts. To both these objections one does well to point out that the objector is not using the language of the theory to debate the theory. The person who uses “part” in such a way that it includes the whole of which we are discussing the parts will claim that the ﬁrst premise is false—it is not the case that all wholes are greater than their parts. He might distinguish: All wholes are greater than their proper parts. Thus, the conclusion follows, but is modiﬁed to read “No whole is numbered among its proper parts,” with which he agrees. With “part” used in either other sense, though—either to mean improper parts exclusively, or to mean either proper or improper parts—the argument does not show that wholes are not numbered among their (proper or improper) parts.

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Likewise, too, the defender of the notion of having on display here will distinguish the terms between proper having, improper having, and either one or the other. X has a nature in the proper sense of having if and only if x has the nature and is not identical to the nature. X has a nature in the improper sense of having if and only if x has the nature and is identical to the nature. On the proper having reading, he will grant the argument, though note that it concludes to the claim that having the nature in a proper sense is not the same as being identical to that nature, with which he agrees. On the improper having reading, he will deny the truth of the second premise—for, on his view, x is identical with what x improperly has. In fact, that is true by deﬁnition of “improper having.” On the ﬁnal, disjunctive reading, he will again deny the second premise.

Objection 6: Other Candidate Predicates You have shown that this response works for the terms “passible” and “impassible,” but you have not shown that it works for other terms. Can you show that? Reply: Consider these initial truth conditions one might provide for the pairs with which I began this chapter:10 Visible Invisible Comprehensible Incomprehensible Limited Unlimited Locally present Omnipresent Mutable Immutable

Able to be visually perceived Unable to be visually perceived Able to be understood in its fullness by creatures Unable to be understood in its fullness by creatures Having set boundaries Not having set boundaries Only present in some locations Present in all locations Able to change Unable to change

Now consider the revised truth conditions of these terms: Visible Invisible Comprehensible Incomprehensible Limited Unlimited

Has a nature that is able to be visually perceived Has a nature that is unable to be visually perceived Has a nature that is able to be understood in its fullness by creatures Has a nature that is unable to be understood in its fullness by creatures Has a nature with set boundaries Has a nature without set boundaries

10 I leave off “passible,” “impassible,” “inexpressible in writing,” and “expressible in writing” from the list. I leave off the ﬁrst pair since I have discussed it at great length earlier in this chapter. I leave off the second pair because I ﬁnd it to be derivative on the notion of incomprehensibility that I do discuss.

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Spatially localized Omnipresent Mutable Immutable

Has a nature that is only present in some locations Has a nature that is present in all locations Has a nature that is able to change Has a nature that is unable to change

I do not see any difﬁculties for these revised truth conditions beyond the difﬁculties already mentioned with respect to the revised understandings of “passible” and “impassible.”

Objection 7: Ontological Bloat to Predicates Here’s an objection occasioned by the revised truth conditions. Isn’t this really what you’re doing: Aren’t you really adding some unnecessary ontological bloat to predicates? What do we mean to say of something when we say it is mutable, for instance? We mean to say that it is changeable, and that’s it. We don’t mean to say anything about whether or not it has a nature, or more than one nature, or any other metaphysically loaded claim. Reply: It might be that we do not mean to say such things. But the Church fathers might have meant to. And if they meant to, we have a way of working out the theory that involves Conciliar Christology in no contradiction (at least on this front). As for the charge of bloat, I contest it. The same charge can be made to anyone who has a theory of property role fulﬁllers. For, when I say “Kathryn is courageous,” I say something that entails, if, say, platonic realism is correct, that there is a universal, Courage, which Kathryn instantiates. That is a mighty ontological cost implied by the predication. And yet, that is the cost of the theory. What we mean to say, and what it is that such a statement requires ontologically speaking, often come apart. It might be claimed that, whereas ontology is opaque to our minds, the truth conditions for a predicate are not so opaque. The objector might continue that she is able to look internally and see what it is that she means by the predicate “passible.” When she looks, she sees that it has nothing to do with natures. I grant that the interlocutor means nothing about natures by the predication (though I’m less moved to grant the reasoning that led to it). But that is not to say that the church fathers meant the terms likewise. And what I’m interested in here is not how the interlocutor understands terms, but rather in what the fathers could have meant that would solve the Problem. And this, I maintain, is one thing they could have meant and that would solve the problem, had they meant it: that predicates when fully modiﬁed have a tacit nature-clause in them.

Objection 8: Evacuating Classical Theism You are evacuating the most important parts from classical theism. No longer is God a robustly immutable, or impassible, or atemporal thing. Your God is to the God of classical theism as lite beer is to Belgian ale.

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Reply: I deny the charge. I have not jettisoned God’s immutability, impassibility, or atemporality. I have provided truth conditions for those terms in a way that maintains and safeguards the teachings of Conciliar Christology. I have denied certain overly strong interpretations of those attributes, which I have called in this chapter the Initial Truth Conditions. Afﬁrming Conciliar Christology along with the Initial Truth Conditions for the predicates leads to a contradiction, as I have argued. So I deny those truth conditions. To deny those truth conditions, though, is not to deny classical theism. On the contrary, I take the Revised Truth Conditions offered in this chapter to be entirely consistent with classical theism.

VI. CONCLUSION In this chapter, I began by presenting a response to the Fundamental Problem that claims that, when properly understood, the candidate pairs are not incompatible with one another. This proper understanding requires building into predicates a clause about the subject having a nature in virtue of which something is apt of it. That whole thing, and not merely the last bit about having something apt of it, is the predicate. I then used an example of a candidate pair, “passible” and “impassible”, to show the logical interrelations between the newly revised method of analyzing the predicates in question. After explicating the logical relations between the predicates, I moved on to discuss the intuitions one might have about predication, and I attempted to salvage some of those intuitions for the revised view. Finally, I answered objections to this response from denying the incompatibility of the candidate pairs. As Part II of this book comes to a close, I note that I take this view to be the best offered, and I take it to solve the Problem. In the next two chapters, which compose Part III, I move on to other objections to Conciliar Christology.

Part III Additional Metaphysical Objections

8 Immutability, Impassibility, and Atemporality I . I N T RO D U C T I O N Theodoret of Cyrus’s dialogue, “The Impassible,” offers a line of thought with which many may be sympathetic. In it, the character Orthodoxus says, against the idea that something impassible can suffer: Who in their senses would ever stand for such foolish riddles? No one has ever heard of an impassible passion or an immortal mortality. The impassible has never undergone passion, and what has undergone passion could not possibly be impassible. (As quoted by John O’Keefe (1997, 57))

Eustathius of Antioch, assuming the impassibility of the divine, as almost everyone did in the early centuries of Christian theology, voices a similar point in fewer words: “Those who presume to predicate suffering of God the Logos are insane.”1 And T. E. Pollard (1955, 354) laments: Nowhere is the bad inﬂuence of Greek philosophical presuppositions on Christian thinking about God more clearly to be seen than in what are commonly known as the traditional attributes of God, and in particular in the attribute of impassibility.

I realize that many people will have a similar reaction. In this chapter I discuss objections to the coherence of Conciliar Christology that stem from the doctrines of divine immutability, divine impassibility, and divine atemporality. As we saw in the ﬁrst chapter of this book, the predicates “impassible” and “immutable” are predicated of both the divine nature and also the divine person of the Word (see Chapter 1, Sections II and III). I will discuss the doctrine of divine atemporality, which I think ﬁnds some support, though less than impassibility and immutability do, in the conciliar texts. The main question of this chapter is: How can a Divine Person who is atemporal, impassible, and immutable suffer and die, since suffering and death clearly require passion, change, and existence in time? (Perhaps there is a case to be made that death doesn’t imply passibility. Perhaps one can die without being caused to die by something. But it remains true that the death we are discussing involved being causally affected by others. Christ laid down his life freely, but he did not nail himself to the cross.)

1

As quoted by Vernon Purdy (2009, 215).

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These are particularly difﬁcult cases of the Fundamental Problem. But they are more as well. For even if we have solved the Fundamental Problem in the previous chapters, opponents of Conciliar Christology worry that, even if there is a way of making sense of the predications being true, the ontology underlying such theories goes awry. For they claim that if something is atemporal, it cannot be or become temporal, and an immutable thing cannot become anything at all, and so it cannot become man, as Christ is claimed to have done by the Conciliar documents. These are claims about the metaphysics of the incarnation, and not merely claims about the coherence of the candidate pairs of apparently inconsistent predicates. Richard Cross (2011, 464) puts the difﬁculties well: Clearly, anything that is human is mutable and (on the face of it) passible. These are modal attributes, and thus had (if at all) throughout the duration of the existence of whatever possesses them. I infer, therefore, that, in the absence of the success of the [extant solutions], no divine person is immutable or impassible (other than in the weak sense of being indestructible and morally reliable, and being such that nothing happens to him that he could not avoid).

It is these modal attributes to which I turn my attention in this chapter. I begin with a brief case for taking the traditional attributes seriously. This includes evidence for the claim that these attributes are afﬁrmed of the God who suffered on the cross, according to Conciliar Christology. I also note the vast agreement in the early church on these doctrines. I then show that many confessional documents in the history of Christendom, across denominational lines and centuries, afﬁrm these attributes as well. Next, I present my preferred understanding of the predicates “passible,” “impassible,” “mutable,” “immutable,” “temporal,” and “atemporal.” In this chapter, I am using “atemporal,” “timeless,” and “eternal” as interchangeable in the case of God. The truth conditions I offer in this chapter are the same as those I offered previously in Chapter 7 (Section III.a. and Objection 6). After presenting my understanding of the doctrines of divine immutability, impassibility, and atemporality, I discuss objections to the possibility of an incarnation of a person who is immutable, impassible, and atemporal. These objections come from recent literature by both philosophers and theologians. I will argue that none of the objections succeed in falsifying Conciliar Christology.

II. MOTIVATION FOR THE DOCTRINES In the ﬁrst chapter I presented the evidence from the seven earliest ecumenical councils for the doctrines of divine immutability and divine impassibility. I later argued, in Chapter 5 (Section V.b.2) when discussing Kenotic Christology, that we should understand the doctrine of immutability in a strong, not a weak, sense. I will only brieﬂy reiterate these evidences and arguments here. I refer the reader to those earlier chapters for a more detailed discussion.

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My goal here is not to show that the doctrines are true. Rather, my goal is to provide an argument from authority for taking them to be worth considering, even for those who are not proponents of Conciliar Christology.2

II.a. The Motivation for Divine Immutability Concerning the claims of Conciliar Christology, recall a few of the quotations I employed in Chapter One. As Cyril says in his letter to John of Antioch, included as part of the Council of Ephesus, God the Word, who came down from above and from heaven, “emptied himself, taking the form of a slave”, and was called son of man, though all the while he remained what he was, that is God (for he is unchangeable and immutable by nature). (Tanner 1990, 72, the parenthetical is in Tanner, but the emphasis is added)

Again, Cyril writes to John: I think that those are quite mad who suppose that “a shadow of change” is conceivable in connexion with the divine nature of the Word. For he remains what he is always and never changes, nor could he ever change or be susceptible of it. (72)

And also, as Cyril says in his Third Letter to Nestorius, the person of Christ is immutable. We do not say that his ﬂesh was turned into the nature of the godhead or that the unspeakable Word of God was changed into the nature of the ﬂesh. For he (the Word) is unalterable and absolutely unchangeable and remains always the same as the scriptures say. For although visible as a child and in swaddling cloths, even while he was in the bosom of the virgin that bore him, as God he ﬁlled the whole of creation and was fellow ruler with him who begot him. (Tanner 1990, 51, emphasis added)

These three Cyrillic texts are evidence for the doctrine of immutability being a part of Conciliar Christology. The early theologians of the Christian church afﬁrm the immutability of God. For just one instance, Metropolitan Hilarion Alfeyev (2012, 279–80) quotes Gregory of Nyssa as saying “And this we declare to be the mystery of the Lord according to the ﬂesh, that he who is immutable came to be in that which is mutable . . . ” The confessional acceptance of divine immutability has continued on past the texts of the (ﬁrst) seven ecumenical councils to the more recent dogmatic statements of Christian communities.3 In addition to afﬁrming divine immutability in these earlier councils, the Catholic Church also reafﬁrms immutability in later councils. For instance,

2 An interesting source to read to ﬁnd arguments for the doctrines of immutability and impassibility are Theodoret of Cyrus’s Demonstrations by Syllogism, in which he argues that the Word is immutable, that the union between natures was not by confusion of the natures, and that the divine nature is impassible (Schaff 2007, 245–9). 3 The majority of the listing of confessional statements in this section ﬁrst appeared in print in my Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy article on Divine Immutability (Pawl 2009).

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the ﬁrst constitution from the Fourth Lateran Council (1215), “On the Catholic Faith,” asserts: We ﬁrmly believe and simply confess that there is only one true God, eternal and immeasurable, almighty, unchangeable, incomprehensible, and ineffable . . . (Tanner 1990, 230)

Likewise, the “Bull of union with the Copts,” from the Council of Basel (1431–45), claims: The Holy Roman church, founded on the words of our Lord and Savior, ﬁrmly believes, professes and preaches one true God, almighty, immutable and eternal, Father, Son, and holy Spirit . . . (Tanner 1990, 570)

For a third and ﬁnal example, the First Vatican Council (1869–70), in its ﬁrst chapter of the “Dogmatic constitution on the catholic faith,” says: The holy, catholic, apostolic and Roman church believes and acknowledges that there is one true and living God, creator and lord of heaven and earth, almighty, eternal, immeasurable, incomprehensible, inﬁnite in will, understanding, and every perfection. Since he is one, singular, completely simple and unchangeable spiritual substance, he must be declared to be in reality and in essence, distinct from the world, supremely happy in himself and from himself, and inexpressibly loftier than anything besides himself which either exists or can be imagined. (Tanner 1990, 805)

Divine immutability is a doctrine that has been continuously taught in Catholic dogmatic statements down through the ages to the present day. The Orthodox, too, have maintained a belief in divine immutability, since it is taught in the ﬁrst seven councils and accepted by the early Christian fathers. Metropolitan Alfeyev (2012, 142) writes of the Orthodox understanding of the Godhead, in a passage that supports both immutability and atemporality: Being outside of time, God is immortal and eternal, inasmuch as he does not have a beginning or end within time. He is changeless, inasmuch as change is linked with existence in time.

Likewise, the doctrine of divine immutability is a common teaching throughout traditional, mainline protestant confessional statements. For instance, see the Reformed confession of faith from the French (or Gallican) Confession of 1559: We believe and confess that there is but one God, who is one sole and simple essence, spiritual, eternal, invisible, immutable, inﬁnite, incomprehensible, ineffable, omnipotent. (As quoted in Morris 1900, 125)

The Reformed later reafﬁrm divine immutability; see the Belgic Confession of 1561, Article 1: We all believe with the heart, and confess with the mouth, that there is one only simple and spiritual Being, which we call God; and that he is eternal, incomprehensible, invisible, immutable, inﬁnite, almighty, perfectly wise, just, good, and the overﬂowing fountain of all good. (Schaff 1889, 325–6)

For a confessional Lutheran afﬁrmation of divine immutability, see, for instance, “The Solid Declaration of The Formula of Concord” (1577), Section XI.75, found in The Book of Concord:

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And since our election to eternal life is founded not upon our godliness or virtue, but alone upon the merit of Christ and the gracious will of His Father, who cannot deny Himself, because He is unchangeable in will and essence. (“The Solid Declaration of the Formula of Concord—Book of Concord” 2015a)

And again, in “The Solid Declaration,” at VIII.49: Now, as regards the divine nature in Christ, since in God there is no change, Jas. 1:17, His divine nature, in its essence and properties, suffered no subtraction nor addition by the incarnation; was not, in or by itself, either diminished or increased thereby. (“The Solid Declaration of the Formula of Concord—Book of Concord” 2015b)

The Reformed reafﬁrm divine immutability again in the ﬁrst head, eleventh article of the canons of Dort, from 1618–19: And as God himself is most wise, unchangeable, omniscient, and omnipotent, so the election made by him can neither be interrupted nor changed, recalled nor annulled; neither can the elect be cast away, nor their number diminished. (Schaff 1889, 497)

The Church of England afﬁrmed divine immutability in their Westminster Confession of Faith from 1647: There is but one only living and true God, who is inﬁnite in being and perfection, a most pure spirit, invisible, without body, parts, or passions, immutable, immense, eternal, incomprehensible, almighty, most wise, most holy . . . (Leith 1982, 197)

Finally, the Freewill Baptists, in their confession adopted at their General Conference in 1834, say: The Scriptures teach that there is only one true and living God, who is a Spirit, selfexistent, eternal, immutable, omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent, independent, good, wise, holy, just, and merciful; the Creator, Preserver, and Governor of the universe; the Redeemer, Saviour, Sanctiﬁer, and Judge of men; and the only proper object of Divine worship. (Schaff 1889, 654)

These texts show that the dogmatic and confessional afﬁrmations of divine immutability carry on into Protestantism. Moreover, as I will note below, many of these texts also serve to support the doctrines of divine impassibility and atemporality as well. This is the view of important, classical protestant systems, too. See, for instance, Louis Berkhof (1965, 58–9), who says that God’s immutability is “that perfection of God by which He is devoid of all change, not only in his Being, but also in His perfections, and in His purposes and promises.” He continues that “even reason teaches that no change is possible in God . . . there is no change in His Being, His attributes, His purpose, His motives of action, or His promises.” See also Martin Chemnitz (1971, 42) for an afﬁrmative discussion of divine immutability, impassibility and simplicity. As I argued in Chapter 5 (Section V.b.1), immutability can be understood in a strong or weak sense. The weak sense claims that immutability means that God is not ﬁckle and his character does not change. The strong sense holds that God does not change in any way in his divine nature. The divine nature is wholly unchanging and unchangeable. I argued in Chapter 5 that the weak notion of

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immutability does not do the work that the conciliar fathers put the doctrine to. In particular, as the above texts from Conciliar Christology cited earlier in this section show, the conciliar fathers use the doctrine to preclude a mixing or confusion of natures in the incarnation. The Lutherans went on to use it to preclude kenotic understandings of the incarnation in the second quotation from the Strong Declaration above. Weak immutability is not the sort of thing that can preclude such mixing or confusion. So the conciliar fathers would not have thought to cite it as evidence for the lack of mixing or confusion, were they to have understood the doctrine in the weak sense. In this chapter, I will understand the doctrine in the strong sense. I do this for at least two reasons. First, because I believe the strong sense to be the sense that the church fathers had in mind, given their use of the term. Second, because my goal is to vindicate Conciliar Christology against philosophical objections. And since this understanding of the doctrine is a standard, perennial understanding of the contents of Conciliar Christology, it would be better, all things equal, were it to be vindicated as well.

II.b. The Motivation for Divine Impassibility Concerning the impassibility of the divine nature, Cyril says in his Third Letter to Nestorius, We also confess that the only begotten Son born of God the Father, although according to his own nature he was not subject to suffering, suffered in the ﬂesh for us according to the scriptures, and was in his cruciﬁed body, and without himself suffering made his own the sufferings of his own ﬂesh . . . (53)

Cyril, in his letter to John, voiced the view of the collected fathers at Ephesus thus: [W]e all confess that the Word of God is impassible, though in his all-wise economy of the mystery he is seen to attribute to himself the sufferings undergone by his own ﬂesh. (72–3)

Later, in his Tome to Flavian, accepted at the Council of Chalcedon, Pope Leo says that in the incarnation, “invulnerable nature was united to a nature that could suffer” (78). In the Deﬁnition of faith from Chalcedon, the fathers are emphatic about the impassibility of the divine nature: But there are those who are trying to ruin the proclamation of the truth, and through their private heresies they have spawned novel formulas [some of which do so by] fantastically supposing that in the confusion [of the natures of Christ] the divine nature of the Only-begotten is passible. (84)

Finally the gathered fathers at Chalcedon claimed in union that the great council “expels from the assembly of the priests those who dare to say that the divinity of the Only-begotten is passible” (85–6). So, the person of the Word, in his divine nature, is called “impassible” in the conciliar texts. I should add, though, that according to Conciliar Christology, the impassibility of the Word in his divine nature does not preclude the passibility of the Word in his human nature. The Word suffered, died, and was buried in his human nature, according to Conciliar Christology.

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Fr Gilles Emery (2009, 30) writes that the immutability and impassibility of the Word are taught at Ephesus and Chalcedon: St. Cyril (and Ephesus) indicates that which the Word assumed for us (the “ﬂesh,” the passion, death) and simultaneously reasserts clearly the theological reason for the impassibility of the Word as regards his divinity: “For the divine, being without body (asomaton), is impassible (apaches).” In the western tradition, this conviction is equally manifest, as is written some years later in the Tome to Flavian of St. Leo the Great: God is by nature immutable (incommutabilis) and impassible (impassibilis). By the assumption of human nature, “The God who knows no suffering (impassibilis Deus) did not despise becoming a suffering man (homo passibilis).” . . . Substantially the same teaching is found in the Council of Chalcedon in 451.

As noted in Chapter 1, then, Conciliar Christology teaches the immutability and impassibility of the divine person of the Word in his divine nature. Scholars of the history of the doctrine of divine impassibility agree that the majority of the Christian thinkers, both orthodox and unorthodox, accepted it. Concerning the unorthodox, Leo Davis (1990, 95) notes that even the heretics called God impassible. And he references an Arian creed, the Dated Creed, which declares that there is: [O]ne only-begotten Son of God, who, before all ages, and before all beginning, and before all conceivable time and before all conceivable essence was begotten impassibly from God . . . (Davis 1990, 96–7)

This Arian creed provides evidence for how widespread the doctrines of divine atemporality and impassibility were. Even those, such as the Arians, who denied the full divinity of Christ still desired to retain his atemporality and impassibility. Daniel Castelo (2008, 398) writes: Perhaps the greatest irony in the divine (im)passibility debates is that both orthodox and heretic alike assumed impassibility to be viable within theological discourse.

Among the Orthodox, scholars of the early church claim that impassibility was widely accepted. For instance, Castelo (2008, 397) writes: When one surveys the historical Christian witness, one can see that divine impassibility was a tenet held by both East and West throughout the ﬁrst ﬁve centuries of emerging orthodoxy and beyond.

Jaroslav Pelikan (1996, 49) writes, in a passage that evinces patristic consensus on divine immutability as well: Suffering was there regarded as unworthy of a truly divine nature; for by common consent (and, incidentally, without much explicit discussion), the divine nature was regarded as having the essential quality of being beyond the capacity for suffering or change, the quality deﬁned by the Greek philosophical term apatheia, impassibility, and incorporated into the Christian doctrine of God.

Jeffrey Silcock (2011, 198–9) writes: The ecumenical consensus of the early church was that God is impassible. Theologians such as Cyril of Alexandria and Pope Leo I could claim that the Christian God became man and suffered in Christ, yet at the same time hold that it was the “impassible God”

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that suffered in Christ. The patristic theologians simply believed that the doctrine of divine impassibility was consistent with the teaching of Scripture itself.4

Finally, Mark Smith (2012, 147) writes, providing copious evidence for the following bold claims: Divine impassibility refers to the belief that God can neither be acted on from without, nor experience “emotional” change within, and that, more speciﬁcally, God can thus neither be caused to suffer, nor choose to suffer, in his divine nature. This venerable doctrine enjoyed near-universal acceptance until the end of the nineteenth century— carefully crafted by the Fathers, systematized by the great medieval Schoolmen, and afﬁrmed by the major Reformed theologians (it even makes it into the ﬁrst of the Thirty-Nine Articles).

Finally, early non-ecumenical councils afﬁrm impassibility as well. For instance, the Creed of the Council of Toledo (400) includes the following two anathemas, with the bracketed materials added at a later Council in 447 (Denzinger 2002, 14): 6. If anyone says and [or] believes, that the Son of God, as God, suffered [in place of this: that Christ cannot be born], let him be anathema. 7. If anyone says and [or] believes that the man Jesus Christ was a man incapable of suffering [in place of this: the divine nature of Christ was changeable or capable of suffering] let him be anathema.

As with the doctrine of immutability, one can ﬁnd later confessional afﬁrmations of impassibility as well. The Fourth Lateran Council (1215) asserts of Christ (Tanner 1990, 230): Although he is immortal and unable to suffer [impassibilis] according to his divinity, he was made capable of suffering [passibilis] and dying according to his humanity. Indeed having suffered and died on the wood of the cross for the salvation of the human race, he descended to the underworld, rose from the dead, and ascended into heaven.

Similarly, the Bull of Union with the Copts from the Council of Basel (1431–45) claims of Christ that he is “immortal and eternal through the nature of the Godhead, passible and temporal from the condition of the assumed humanity” (Tanner 1990, 573). The Catechism of the Council of Trent (1982, 50–1) says: It cannot be a matter of doubt that His soul, as to its inferior part, was sensible to these torments; for as He really assumed human nature, it is a necessary consequence that He really, and in His soul, experienced a most acute sense of pain. Hence these words of the Saviour: My soul is sorrowful even unto death. Although human nature was united to the Divine Person, He felt the bitterness of His Passion as acutely as if no such union had existed, because in the one Person of Jesus Christ were preserved the properties of both natures, human and divine; and therefore what was passible and 4 For more passages showing that the early fathers, particularly St Leo the Great, thought that an impassible God suffered, see Dunn (Dunn 2001a; 2001b); Dunn cites Leo’s relevant texts in the Latin from this source: (Chavasse 1973, 138–138a, 158, 395). For an excellent book-length discussion of divine impassibility, see Paul Gavrilyuk (2006). T. E. Pollard (1955, 357–9), himself no friend of divine impassibility, showcases many texts from the fathers where they assert its truth. See also Gary Culpepper (2009).

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mortal remained passible and mortal; while what was impassible and immortal, that is, His Divine Nature, continued impassible and immortal.

Moreover, it says, in a snappy exclamation (1982, 56), “In a word, Jesus Christ, the God-man, suffers!” Protestant confessional statements also include assertions of impassibility. For instance, the Lutherans, in “The Solid Declaration” VIII.20, claim that the divine nature of Christ is impassible and unable to suffer death (all parentheticals in the original): On account of this personal union, which cannot be thought of nor exist without such a true communion of the natures, not the mere human nature, whose property it is to suffer and die, has suffered for the sins of the world, but the Son of God Himself truly suffered, however, according to the assumed human nature, and (in accordance with our simple Christian faith) [as our Apostles’ Creed testiﬁes] truly died, although the divine nature can neither suffer nor die.

The Second Helvetic Confession of 1566 denies that the divine nature suffered: We do not teach that the divine nature of Christ did suffer nor that the human nature of Christ is every where present. The true body of Christ was not deiﬁed so as to put off its properties and to be absorbed into the divine substance. But we believe that our Lord Jesus Christ did truly suffer for us in the ﬂesh (1 Pet iii 18 iv 1) and that the Lord of glory was cruciﬁed for us (1 Cor ii 8). (Schaff 1919, 403)

Finally, the quotation in the previous section from the Westminster Confession includes the claim that God is not only immutable but also without passions. Martin Chemnitz (1971, 211) asserts that “we can truly say that God suffered, because that ﬂesh suffered in which dwelt the whole fullness of deity bodily.” And he says this as a staunch advocate of divine impassibility.5 I conclude this section with the claim that the early councils, the majority of the eastern and western fathers, and later confessional statements of Catholic and protestant confessional bodies afﬁrm the truth of divine impassibility. For this reason, I disagree with Thomas Senor (2002, 228) when he says: There is a broad theological tradition, however, even within Christological orthodoxy, that maintains that impassibility should be jettisoned. This is not the place to thrash about in these deep and often turbulent theological waters.

I do not know how Senor here deﬁnes “Christological Orthodoxy,” but if it is deﬁned in such a way that it includes the texts I have cited here, I do not see how there is room in Christological Orthodoxy for the rejection of a doctrine of divine impassibility.

II.c. The Motivation for Divine Atemporality Many authors have argued that something’s being immutable implies its being atemporal. Aquinas (ST. I q.10 a.2 resp), for instance, thinks that this entailment 5 See Chemnitz (1971, 211) for a list of quotations from the ancients which he employs to support belief in divine impassibility.

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holds. If these authors are correct, then all of the previous evidence for divine immutability will also count as evidence for divine atemporality. In this section I will not assume that immutability entails atemporality, and so I will go on to offer additional evidence for atemporality from the conciliar, patristic, and confessional statements. The conciliar texts have less to say by way of explicit afﬁrmations of divine atemporality than they have to say in support of immutability and impassibility. I begin this section by citing those passages that support divine atemporality, then go on to discuss other historical and confessional support for the doctrine. First, consider a claim Pope Leo makes in his Tome: So without leaving his Father's glory behind, the Son of God comes down from his heavenly throne and enters the depths of our world, born in an unprecedented order by an unprecedented kind of birth. In an unprecedented order, because one who is invisible at his own level was made visible at ours. The ungraspable willed to be grasped. Whilst remaining pre-existent, he begins to exist in time [ante tempora manens esse coepit ex tempore]. (Tanner 1990, 79)

Here the last sentence supports divine atemporality. I can think of no good sense to give the term “pre-existent” [ante tempora] when compared to “beginning to exist in time” aside from atemporal. For if Leo meant merely to assert that the Son has existed at every time and will exist at every time—that conception of divine eternity now commonly called the everlasting view of divine eternity—then the Son would already have been in time prior to the incarnation. But then what sense is there in saying that he begins to exist in time while remaining ante tempora? I take this passage from Leo to support the traditional atemporality view of eternity, and not the everlasting view of divine eternity. A second quotation comes from an anathema from the ﬁfth ecumenical council. As quoted in Chapter One, the assembled church fathers at Second Constantinople say: Anathema 2: “If anyone will not confess that the Word of God has two nativities, that which is before all ages from the Father, outside time and without a body, and secondly that nativity of these latter days when the Word of God came down from the heavens and was made ﬂesh of holy and glorious Mary, mother of God and ever-virgin, and was born from her: let him be anathema.” (emphasis added). (Tanner 1990, 114)

The word translated as “outside time” is the Greek achronos, which means without time, or standing outside of time. Liddell, Scott, and Drisler’s (1894, 268) A Greek-English Lexicon translate it as “without time,” “brief” and “independent of time.” Lampe’s (1961, 280) A Patristic Greek Lexicon, the standard source for such matters, deﬁnes the term as “independent of time” without any entry suggesting that the term could be meant to imply existence at every time, as the everlasting view of divine eternity would need to render the text. One might be tempted to read the word as meaning “existing at all times” rather than “independent of time”—in fact, many philosophers desire to read the term that way. The experts and the standard lexicons do not support such a reading of these texts. Moreover, the historians, for instance, Leo Davis (1990, 49, 52) read the conciliar fathers and texts as asserting that the Son was outside of, or beyond, time.

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Important early Christian thinkers also assert the atemporality of the Son. St Ignatius of Antioch writes in his Letter to Polycarp, Chapter 3:2, in a passage supportive of divine atemporality as well as divine impassibility (Willis and Rouët de Journel 2002, 343): Look for Him who is beyond all time, the Eternal, the Invisible who became visible for our sake, the Impalpable, the Impassible who suffered for our sake, who endured every outrage for our sake.

Metropolitan Alfeyev (2012, 275) provides a quotation from Gregory the Theologian, who says: [T]he Son of God accepts both to become Son of a human being and to be what he was not, for he loves humankind . . . For this reason unmingled realities are mingled, not only God with generation, or mind with ﬂesh, or the atemporal with time, or the uncircumscribed with measure, but also childbirth with virginity, and dishonor with what is above all honor, and suffering with the impassible, and the immortal with the corruptible.

This passage, too, supports both atemporality and impassibility. Gregory says elsewhere (Daley 2006, 133) that the Son is “the maker of all time, not subject to time.” Later Catholic councils assert that God is eternal, or that the three divine persons are co-eternal. The three texts quoted in Section II.a. to support a later Catholic afﬁrmation of divine immutability all include an afﬁrmation of divine eternality as well. Likewise, the quotations from the protestant confessions almost all include an afﬁrmation of divine eternality. Such afﬁrmations of eternality are sometimes read as afﬁrmations that God is temporally everlasting, rather than timeless. But if we read them in the context of expounding on the earlier conciliar claims, and note that those claims were claims to being outside of time—ante tempora; achronos—then we see reason to read these later afﬁrmations of eternity as not merely meaning God is temporally everlasting. Catholic dogmatists have read the conciliar assertions of divine eternality as evidence for divine atemporality. Monsignor Pohle (1911a, 306–313) cites the Fourth Lateran Council as evidence for divine eternity, where eternity is understood as (1911, 306–7) “the direct contrary of time,” and deﬁned as Boethius famously deﬁned it: “eternity is the possession, perfect and all at once, of life without beginning or end.” Ludwig Ott (1960, 36–7) likewise cites the Fourth Lateran Council as evidence for the doctrine of divine eternity as propounded by Boethius. The Orthodox, too, accept that God is outside time. See, for instance, the quotation from Metropolitan Alfeyev quoted above, which includes the claim (2012, 142): Being outside of time, God is immortal and eternal, inasmuch as he does not have a beginning or end within time. He is changeless, inasmuch as change is linked with existence in time.

I take the above conciliar claims, along with the later confessional statements and interpretations by dogmatists, as evidence for divine atemporality’s being part of the traditional Christian teaching.

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My goal in this section has not been to prove the truth of the doctrines of divine immutability, impassibility, and atemporality. Nor have I attempted to provide an exhaustive representation of the justiﬁcation in the history of the early church, confessional statements, and later councils of the truth of the doctrines. Rather, I have attempted to provide some snapshot of the justiﬁcation motivating someone in accepting these doctrines to be part of the teaching of Conciliar Christology, and also as part of traditional Christian teaching.

I I I . T H E T RU T H C O ND I TI O NS F O R TH E PR E D I C A TE S In Chapter 7 I introduced an original and a revised set of truth conditions for being passible or impassible. There I wrote (Section II.a.): Initial Truth Conditions: Passible: s is passible just in case it is possible that at least one other thing causally affect s. Impassible: s is impassible just in case it is not the case that it is possible that at least one other thing causally affect s. I noted there, and assert again here, that, were these the truth conditions the Fathers had in mind, an immediate contradiction follows. For they taught that Christ was both passible and impassible. And nothing, given these truth conditions, can be both passible and impassible. This is true no matter what “qua” wizardry one brings to the fore. Rather than saddle the conciliar fathers with these truth conditions—which any novice can show inconsistent with Conciliar Christology between sips of coffee—I presented some revised truth conditions that ﬁt well with what the fathers intend and say, and which save the consistency of Conciliar Christology. They were (Chapter 7, Section II.d.): Revised Truth Conditions Passible: s is passible just in case s has a concrete nature that it is possible for some other thing to causally affect. Impassible: s is impassible just in case s has a concrete nature that it is impossible for some other thing to causally affect. If something were to have two natures, then there could be a case in which the revised truth conditions are met for both “passible” and “impassible,” and so a case in which it is apt to call one and the same s—say, the Son—both passible and impassible. One can likewise provide original and revised truth conditions for mutability and immutability, as I did near the end of Chapter 7: Initial Truth Conditions Mutable: s is mutable just in case s is able to change. Immutable: s is immutable just in case it is not the case that s is able to change.

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Revised Truth Conditions Mutable: s is mutable just in case s has a concrete nature that is able to change. Immutable: s is immutable just in case s has a concrete nature such that it is not the case that that nature is able to change. As in the previous case of passibility and impassibility, while nothing can fulﬁll the truth conditions for both the initial senses of mutable and immutable, something can fulﬁll both the revised truth conditions, provided that thing has more than one nature, where one of its natures, along with the person, fulﬁlls the right-hand side of the revised immutability biconditional, and the other, along with the person, fulﬁlls the right-hand side of the revised mutability biconditional. Finally, one might deﬁne initial and revised truth conditions for something’s being aptly predicated by the predicates “temporal” and “atemporal.” Recall that I am using “atemporal,” “timeless,” and “eternal” as synonyms. Initial Truth Conditions Temporal: s is temporal just in case s is inside time. Atemporal: s is atemporal just in case s is not inside time. Here, as with the previous two sets of Initial Truth Conditions, nothing can be both temporal and atemporal. But were we to revise the truth conditions in the same way I have revised the previous truth conditions, then we do arrive at truth conditions which are consistent, provided that the thing which is both temporal and atemporal has two natures, one of which is inside time, the other of which is outside time: Revised Truth Conditions Temporal: s is temporal just in case s has a concrete nature that is inside time. Atemporal: s is atemporal just in case s has a concrete nature such that it is not the case that that nature is inside time. What is it to be “inside time?” I am hoping that the reader can spot me the concept. For it isn’t something unique to my theory. Anyone who either afﬁrms that God is temporal or denies it will have to give some sense to the question of what it means to be temporal. Whatever sense the reader gives to that question, let that be the sense I employ here. My revision of the truth conditions does not alter the notion of “inside time,” it keeps that the same and adds in a “has a nature such that it is” clause. The novelty of what I am doing here, then—if there is novelty—is not due to an alteration of the standard concept of being inside time. I have already worked out the logic of such predicates and answered objections to this approach in Chapter 7. In this chapter, I will assume this understanding of the terms when responding to the objections against the incarnation of an immutable, impassible, atemporal God.

I V . O B J E C T I O N S T O TH E IN C A R N A TI O N OF A N IMMUTABLE, IMPASSIBLE, ATEMPORAL GOD In this section, I will consider some of the most difﬁcult arguments in the literature against the possibility of an incarnation of an immutable, impassible,

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or timeless God.6 Some of these objections, as stated, only target one of the modal attributes. But they can be restated in such a way that they target the others as well.

IV.a. Richard Cross on the Modal Attributes In the ﬁrst section of this chapter I quoted Richard Cross as denying that any divine person is immutable or impassible. His reasoning is put in terms of God’s being timeless, but we can consider the same style of reasoning for any of the three modal attributes under discussion. Cross (2011, 464) writes, with characteristic clarity: The same goes for timelessness. Anything that is human is temporal; nothing can be ﬁrst timeless and then temporal; no divine being is essentially non-human; so no divine person is timeless.

This same argumentative form can show his reasoning for thinking that no divine person is immutable or impassible. He concludes: Modern discussion in philosophical theology on the doctrine of the Incarnation still represents to some extent a work in progress. But it has, I believe, shown where best to look for solutions, and what the likely shape of such solutions will be: namely, ﬁrst, an abandonment of a strong form of classical theism . . . we need to abandon divine impassibility, immutability, and timelessness. (Cross 2011, 470–1)

Were it in fact shown that we must abandon divine impassibility, immutability, and timelessness, that would be catastrophic for Conciliar Christology. For Conciliar Christology includes those doctrines. Thus, the Conciliar Christologist needs to show where Cross’s argument goes wrong. We can put the three arguments against the modal properties as follows, where the “t” stands for temporality, the “m” for mutability, and the “p” for passibility: 1t. 2t. 3t. 4t.

Anything that is human is temporal. Nothing can be ﬁrst timeless and then temporal. No divine person is essentially non-human. So no divine person is timeless.

6 For others who discuss the logical compatibility of the incarnation with the attributes of immutability, impassibility, and atemporality, see, for instance, Ronald Feenstra (2006, 142); Colin Gunton (1982); Adrio König (1982); Jurgen Moltmann (1973, 214–15; 1993, 22–3); Castelo (2008); Evan Pollard (1955); Herbert Relton (1917, 54); Richard Sturch (1991, 33–4, 100–6); and Frances Young (1977, 27). Relton (1917, 5) writes of St Hilary: “in his anxiety to demonstrate the uniqueness of the humanity of Christ and its divine endowments, Hilary can hardly be said to escape the dangers of Docetism, and towards this he is drawn by his theory of the impassibility of the God-Man—a theory which, if pursued to its logical conclusion, and rigidly applied to the Gospel portrait of Jesus, results in hopeless contradictions and absurdities.” These are strong words from a man who asserts, at least twice over, that “the Person of Christ is the bankruptcy of logic” and says this because the gospel data “postulates a logical contradiction” (Relton 1917, 234, 265). One ﬁnds oneself musing about the color of cookware and the gravy for geese.

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Anything that is human is mutable. Nothing can be ﬁrst immutable and then mutable. No divine person is essentially non-human. So no divine person is immutable. Anything that is human is passible. Nothing can be ﬁrst impassible and then passible. No divine person is essentially non-human. So no divine person is impassible.

I concede the ﬁrst premise of each of these arguments. I see no sense to be made of a human that cannot be changed, or caused to change by something external. So far as God can causally affect any created thing, and every human has at least one created part (no human soul or body is uncreated), every human is causally affectable. And since affectable, changeable. And since changeable, existing in time.7 It follows from 1t, 1m, 1p, and the claim that the Word of God is human (he is “true man”) that the Word of God is temporal, mutable, and passible. But this is no cause for concern for the Conciliar Christologist. For, according to Conciliar Christology, the Second Person of the Trinity existed in time, changed, and was causally affected. As the fathers at Second Constantinople say in their tenth anathema against the Three Chapters, If anyone does not confess his belief that our lord Jesus Christ, who was cruciﬁed in his human ﬂesh, is truly God and the Lord of glory and one of the members of the holy Trinity: let him be anathema. (Tanner 1990, 118)

That cruciﬁxion occurred in time, involved a change, and included suffering caused by external forces. And it was all visited upon, as the Fathers say, one of the holy Trinity. So the Fathers were willing to accept the ﬁrst premise of these arguments, or, at least, to accept the relevant entailment from it: that Christ was mutable, passible, and temporal. I have modiﬁed the third premise of these arguments, that “no divine person is essentially non-human,” from Cross’s original formulation in terms of divine beings. I did this to ensure that the same terms are used throughout. But also, I did this because the divine nature itself is a divine being, and I think it is a standard view that it is essentially non-human. That is, while the persons (or at least the Son) can become human, the divine nature itself is not such that it can become human. Conciliar Christology does not entail this third premise, either in its original or revised form. I know of nowhere where the texts claim that it is possible that the Father and Spirit become human. However, that said, the possibility of the Father and Spirit becoming incarnate is traditionally accepted (see Pawl 2014e for more on this point). I will accept it here. Moreover, even if one denies that premise, this does not remove the difﬁculty for Conciliar Christology. For on Conciliar Christology, the Second Person of the 7 Perhaps one might claim that there could be other modes of existence that allow change but are not time. For instance, perhaps St Thomas’s aeviternity is one such mode of existence. I will not argue against this claim here. If the reader believes in such other modes of existence, then the reader may well have a means by which to reject 1t.

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Trinity is not essentially non-human. Were we to substitute that particular claim about the Second Person into the arguments at the third premise (i.e. The Son is not essentially non-human), rather than the more general claim about divine persons, we would still be able to derive at 4t, 4m, and 4p that the Second Person is not timeless, immutable, and impassible. And that is contrary to Conciliar Christology. So even if one denies the third premise of these arguments, supposing the other premises are true, a contradiction still follows for Conciliar Christology. As the reader can likely tell from my order of discussion, I think the Conciliar Christologist should deny the second premise of each argument. The proponent of Conciliar Christology should say that something timeless can become temporal, something immutable become mutable, and something impassible become passible. As I’ve deﬁned the terms, this can happen if a person can take on a nature such that (the Person and) the nature satisﬁes the truth conditions for those predicates. And on the view I’ve presented in this book, that’s precisely what happened in the incarnation. When becoming incarnate, the Son took on (assumed) a nature that was inside time. So he gained a nature in virtue of which it was true that he was temporal. And so the predicate “temporal” began to apply to him then. But he didn’t lose his other nature in the process. Rather that nature stayed the same and didn’t change. That nature is that in virtue of which it is true that he was atemporal. So the predicate “atemporal” still applied to him. And so he was both atemporal and temporal. Elsewhere, Cross claims (Cross 2005, 215) that essential impassibility entails that a thing cannot, under any circumstances, suffer. I grant that, on the understanding of impassibility that I have called the Initial Truth Condition of impassibility, this claim is true. And so, on the Initial Truth Condition for the term, “impassible,” Christ is not impassible. But I deny that the fathers could have meant such an overly strong understanding of impassible, given the claims they make repeatedly about a divine person suffering and dying, as evidenced by the tenth anathema against the Three Chapters, cited above in this section. In short: in the incarnation, the Second Person took on a nature that is in time, changeable, and causally affectable. And so the Second Person fulﬁlled the conditions for being temporal, mutable, and passible. But he didn’t in that act cease to fulﬁll the truth conditions for being timeless, immutable, and impassible. And so he was both, or, put otherwise, all six modal predicates applied to him. But this is inconsistent with the truth of 2t, 2m, and 2p. Thus, those three premises are false.

IV.b. Jonathan Hill on the Modal Attributes In a recent article, Jonathan Hill (2012) has argued in favor of an atemporalist understanding of God. He distinguishes two sorts of atemporalism: Simple Atemporalism:

“the Son remains ‘outside’ time, even during the incarnation. Whatever relation exists between Jesus, who lived during an identiﬁable period of history, and the Son, it is a relation between something temporal and something atemporal.” (2012, 22)

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Hill provides an example of simple atemporalism: “Brian Leftow argues for a model of this kind, in which the Son is a timeless part of a whole, the other parts being Christ’s body and the soul, which exist in time” (22). The second sort of atemporalism Hill explains as follows: Mixed Atemporalism:

“the Son is atemporal, but in the incarnation he becomes temporal as well. Instead of imagining what relations would hold between the atemporal Son and his temporal human body (or body and mind), we suppose that the Son becomes temporal, enjoying temporal relations with his human body (or body and mind).” (2012, 23)

He elaborates on mixed atemporalism in the following quotation (2012, 23): At any given time, it is true at that time that the Son exists atemporally, because the pre-incarnate Son (taking “pre-” to indicate logical, rather than temporal, priority) exists atemporally. For any time prior to the incarnation, it is false that the Son exists at that time (although true that he exists atemporally). During the incarnation however, it is true that the Son exists at that time (in an embodied state), and it is also true that the Son exists atemporally (in a non-embodied state).

The idea here is that on simple atemporalism, it is never true to say that the Son is temporal and always true to say of him that he is atemporal. On mixed atemporalism, it is always true to say of the Son that he is atemporal, and sometimes true to say of him that he is temporal as well. Simple Atemporalism has the unfortunate entailment that the Son is not Jesus, since the Son is outside time and never inside time, and Jesus is inside time. On the traditional usage of the names “Son” and “Jesus” (see Chapter 2, Section II.c.), this is contrary to Conciliar Christology. There is a certain ambiguity in the way that mixed atemporalism is presented here. The claim “we suppose that the Son becomes temporal, enjoying temporal relations with his human body” might mean one of at least two things. It might mean that the Son becomes temporal (in himself, aside from the human nature) and then enjoys temporal relations with the temporal human body. On such a reading, mixed atemporalism would have the Son become temporal independent of the human nature. On a second reading, we can read the above quotation that the Son becomes temporal by means of, or in virtue of, the assumed human body. He then enjoys temporal relations with (by means of) his body. For instance, the Son enjoys the temporal relation, being born after Mary was born, with, or in virtue of, his assumed human nature. In what follows, I will read Hill to be meaning this second understanding of mixed atemporalism. Given how I have deﬁned the predicates “temporal” and “atemporal,” it should come as no surprise to the reader for me to confess mixed atemporalism (again, understood in the second sense). For, on the view I offer, the Son, while incarnate, fulﬁlls the truth conditions for being aptly predicated by both these predicates. He has a nature—the divine nature—that is and remains outside of time. And so he is rightly called “atemporal.” He also has a nature—the human nature—that is inside of time. And so he is rightly called “temporal.” On my view, the divine nature is simply atemporal, since it remains outside of time no matter what. And CHN, would count as simply temporal if it remains inside of time no matter what. The

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natures themselves are simply atemporal and simply temporal (respectively) while the person, by the mystery of the hypostatic union, is both atemporal and temporal. Although Hill claims (2012, 23) not to “know of any author who has articulated mixed atemporalism in a clear and unambiguous way,” I think that this is a very common view in the history of Christology. In fact, I think we ﬁnd clear articulations of this view in the councils. Both quotations I gave in support of atemporalism from the councils in Section II.c. also support mixed atemporalism. Leo says that the Word remained pre-existing and began existing in time. The fathers at 2nd Constantinople claim that the person who was outside of time entered time. The quotation from Gregory the Theologian I provided earlier (from Metropolitan Alfeyev) said that when the Son becomes Son of a human being, unmingled realities are mingled; the atemporal was mingled (mixed?) with time. And another quotation from Gregory the Theologian provides further evidence that he thought the Son to be both in time and timeless (Wace 1894, 338): He teacheth, now on a mountain; now He discouseth on a plain; now He passeth over into a ship; now He rebuketh the surges . . . He removeth from place to place, Who is not contained in any place; the timeless, the bodiless, the uncircumscript, the same Who was and is; Who was both above time, and came under time, and was invisible and is seen. He was in the beginning and was with God, and was God.

For these reasons, I view mixed atemporalism as clearly taught by some in the tradition, and required by Conciliar Christology. My claim that mixed atemporalism is required by the Conciliar texts could be problematic, for Hill argues that mixed atemporalism is incoherent. He writes: If the Son is to be atemporal, he must remain atemporal—he cannot be temporal as well. I conclude that mixed atemporalism is incoherent, and that the atemporalist believer in the incarnation should hold simple atemporalism. (2012, 24)

If Hill is correct here, then there is a serious problem for Conciliar Christology. Hill provides two reasons for thinking that mixed atemporalism is incoherent. I will discuss them in what follows. Hill’s ﬁrst reason for thinking mixed atemporalism incoherent is presented in the form of two questions. He considers a case of the Son being incarnate and asks of the temporal divine person how we would tell that it is the same thing as the atemporal divine person. He writes: Why would we identify this temporal divine person with the atemporal Son—or indeed with any atemporal divine being? Why would it not be a brand new divine being, one that differs from other divine beings in being temporal? (2012, 23)

He considers a potential answer to this question. We might identify the divine beings (i.e. the temporal divine person and the atemporal divine Son) as a single divine person in virtue of their having the same relations to the other divine persons. But there’s a problem, says Hill, since it seems a temporal divine being cannot bear the right relation, being timelessly begotten, to the Father. And since a thing and itself must bear the same relations to others, the temporal divine being cannot be the same thing as the atemporal divine Son. What should a proponent of Conciliar Christology say in response to this objection?

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If the question posed to the proponent of Conciliar Christology is, “Why identify the temporal divine person with the atemporal divine person?” the answer should be clear: because the conciliar texts require it. The councils, for instance, the quotations above from 2nd Constantinople, tell us that it is one of the Divine Trinity that suffers and dies on the cross. But it was not the Father. And it was not the Holy Spirit. So it must be the Son. That’s not a new person. So it is the old person, the very same Son who was pre-existent outside of time, according to the conciliar texts. In addition, the anathemas from Second Constantinople give more reason for a proponent of Conciliar Christology to afﬁrm, not only that the “two” are in fact one person, but that the “two” stand in the right sorts of relations to the other divine persons. For instance, consider again the 2nd Anathema against the Three Chapters, cited above in Section II.c. There the fathers anathematize those who do not say that one divine person has two nativities, one before all ages and outside time from the Father, the other from Mary in time. So the Conciliar Christologist must confess that the divine person in time, from Mary, has the right sort of relation from the Father, being timelessly begotten, as Hill puts it, or having a “nativity” “before all ages from the father,” as the conciliar fathers say. Moreover, the councils explicitly anathematize those who separate out two distinct persons in the incarnation. The proponent of Conciliar Christology, then, has reason to think that it is one and the same person, and not two different divine persons, involved in the incarnation. This understanding of the Person of Christ doesn’t cease in those early councils. Consider a passage from the Catechism of the Council of Trent concerning how the parish priest should teach about the article of the creed saying “who was conceived”: Its meaning he should teach to be that we believe and confess that the same Jesus Christ, our only Lord, the Son of God, when He assumed human ﬂesh for us in the womb of the Virgin, was not conceived like other men, from the seed of man, but in a manner transcending the order of nature, that is, by the power of the Holy Ghost; so that the same Person, remaining God as He was from eternity, became man, what He was not before. (1982, 41)

Here, too, we see one and the same person, Jesus Christ, the Son of God, becoming a human in time. Hill’s second reason goes as follows (2012, 24): Such a model [mixed atemporalism] also raises the problematic possibility of the temporal and atemporal Sons communicating or otherwise relating to each other. If we accept, as most atemporalists do, that an atemporal God can have relations with temporal beings—for example, hearing their prayers, or bestowing grace upon them— then it seems that the atemporal Son could have these same relations with the temporal Son. The odd image is raised of Jesus praying not simply to the Father but to the Son as well, even though he is the Son. That seems distinctly unpalatable.

I agree that the model presented in this paragraph is unpalatable. But I deny that this is the model a mixed atemporalist who commits to the conciliar texts afﬁrms. The unpalatability arises from the two Sons of which Hill writes. The Conciliar Christologist will adamantly deny that there are two Sons, one temporal and another atemporal, for the anathemas of the councils preclude this as a live

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possibility. There are questions in the vicinity that Hill might have in mind, questions about the relations between the natures, and whether one nature could pray to the other. But those two natures are not themselves Sons or Persons. “Jesus” is the name of a person, the very same person as the person referred to by “Christ,” “Logos,” and “Word” (see Chapter 2, Section II.c.). So I see no reason to think that mixed atemporalism entails the possibility of two Sons interacting with one another as Hill suggests. I see no evidence in either of these two reasons to conclude, as Hill does, that mixed atemporalism is incoherent. The conclusion he derives is based on ﬁnding no good reason for the identity claim between the temporal and atemporal person, and on an argument the premise of which no proponent of Conciliar Christology would accept. So, at least when aimed at Mixed Atemporalists who are also Conciliar Christologists, he has not shown that Mixed Atemporalism is false or incoherent.

IV.c. Richard Holland on the Modal Attributes Richard Holland has written a recent book arguing that the Chalcedonian Christology puts strong pressure on the Christian to deny the classical view of atemporality. For instance, he writes: [I]f the life of Jesus is—at least in some meaningful way—the life of God the Son, then the conclusion that God himself experiences the temporal sequence in the life of Jesus seems unavoidable. When a priority is placed on preserving a robust Chalcedonian Christology, the classical atemporal view appears at its weakest in its ability to account for the ordinary temporal sequence in the life of Christ. (2012, 79)

The thought here is that atemporality precludes a temporal sequence in the experience of the events of one’s life, since temporal sequencing requires temporality. Holland’s (2012, 83) main argument goes as follows: The argument could be restated as follows: Jesus’s life contains temporally sequenced events. Since the life of God the Son is the life of Jesus (that is, only one life is being lived), the life of God the Son contains temporally sequenced events.

But, he claims, an “implication of the classical atemporal view of God’s relationship to time is that it rules out any kind of sequence in God’s life” (Holland 2012, 122). And so, since the incarnation implies temporally sequenced events in the life of God the Son, and the classical atemporal view precludes temporally sequenced events in the life of God the Son, it follows that the incarnation is inconsistent with the classical atemporal view. Later he writes that “[i]f atemporality is essential to divinity, there is a contradiction in the Incarnation; and this is because Jesus lives an ordinary temporal life” (2012, 174). Putting the argument in a slightly different way, he says: [I]t seems that the classical atemporal model of God’s relation to time introduces a paradox into the doctrine of the Incarnation. That Jesus lived an ordinary temporal life is undeniable. But, the classical model asserts that God the Son is timelessly eternal. So

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it seems that in Christ there is both atemporal eternity and ordinary temporal sequence, which is clearly a contradiction (2012, 172).

As I see it, Holland’s argument goes as follows.8 H1. H2. H3.

If the atemporalist view is true, then there couldn’t have been succession in the life of a divine person. But there was succession in the life of a divine person. Thus, the atemporalist view is false.

The argument is an instance of the logical form Modus Tollens, and so it is logically valid. It will likely be clear from the previous arguments I have considered that I think it is unsound due to its having a false premise. And that premise is H1. With respect to H2, the proponent of Conciliar Christology will claim that it was the Son of God, that divine person, who hung on the cross, died, was buried, and rose again. And these events occurred in succession. So the claim that there was succession in the divine life of the Word seems to me to be on ﬁrm ground for the proponent of Conciliar Christology. Concerning premise H1, I think it is likely clear to the reader from discussions of the previous arguments why it is false on my view. On my view, something counts as atemporal iff it has a nature that is outside of time. And Christ does have such a nature. So he is rightly predicated by the predicates “atemporal” and “timeless.” But he also has a concrete nature that is inside time and changed from being one way to being another. As Pope Leo said in his Tome, it was the human nature that “hung, pierced with nails, on the wood of the cross.” The Second Person of the Trinity went from being not dead to being dead, and to being not dead yet again. And so it is apt of him to say that there was succession in his life. This is not inconsistent with atemporality, as I’ve deﬁned it. So the antecedent of H1 is true but the consequent false on my preferred rendering of Conciliar Christology. And so I claim that the Conciliar Christologist ought not to accept the truth of H1. Holland uses his argument against Aquinas’s strong view of immutability. Aquinas knew well that there was succession in the divine life of the Word. He would not be surprised if told, for instance, that God was born before God died, or that the death of the Son of God was prior to the resurrection of the Son of God. And so it is surprising to see Holland treat the fact of succession in the life of God the Son as if it were incompatible with the carefully worked out view Aquinas has of divine immutability. I concede that Holland is right about the following: if the view that Aquinas had in mind was the Initial Truth Condition for immutability, then Holland has shown that Aquinas’s view of immutability is inconsistent with sequence in a divine life. For if something is immutable in that sense, then, necessarily, that thing cannot change in any way, at any time. But the Son can and did change in some ways, at some times. And so the Son is not immutable in that sense. The question we must ask is whether Aquinas held the Initial Truth Condition. I think the answer is “No.”

8

See Holland (2012, 175) for a similar instance of the argument.

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Aquinas writes, when considering objections to the catholic Christology in the Summa contra gentiles, bk. 4, ch.37 (Aquinas 1989, 183), “the Word, of course, is entirely immutable.” And again, in discussing the incarnation in the Summa theologiae (Aquinas 1920, ST III q.2 a.1), he writes that “the divine nature is altogether immutable.” So it is clear that, even when considering the incarnation, he doesn’t back away from calling both the person of the Word and the divine nature itself immutable. But he nevertheless claims, as he must, to remain true to the traditional Christology, that the Word suffers, and that the Word is born. In fact, he says such things in the very same passages as the previous quotations in favor of divine immutability. He writes: Again, what the clothes suffer is not referred to the wearer. One does not say a man is born when he is dressed, nor wounded if his clothes are torn. If the Word, then, took on a soul and a body, as a man does his clothes, no one will be able to say that God was born, or that He suffered by reason of the body He assumed. (Aquinas 1989, 184)

Aquinas is giving a Modus Tollens argument against the view that the Word is united to CHN as a wearer is to clothes. He leaves tacit the ﬁnal premise: But we must be able to say that God was born, and that God suffered. The point is clear: not only does Aquinas think that the Word changed, he sees nothing wrong with saying so a few paragraphs after saying that “the Word of course, is entirely immutable.” We have two options before us, then. We can think that Aquinas had the Initial Truth Condition in mind, and just missed the obvious, odious contradiction in his claims. Or we can think that there wasn’t a contradiction there to be spotted, and so deny that he had the Initial Truth Condition in mind.9 Perhaps he was inconsistent on this point throughout all his writings on immutability and the incarnation. Perhaps he never saw the obvious, apparent contradiction in his reasoning. And perhaps this obvious problem in his reasoning went unnoticed by later generations and generations of Thomists as well. This is possible, but I ﬁnd it extremely unlikely. St Thomas was no slouch in the entailment-spotting department. The account I offer of the truth conditions for immutability and mutability allow for an easy response to Holland’s argument. The response is to deny the ﬁrst premise: one should say that the conditional is false. Thus, I take Holland’s argument to be unsound in virtue of having a false premise. One can afﬁrm the Doctrine of Divine Immutability, when understood as I’ve presented it, and still afﬁrm that the Son experienced sequenced events.

IV.d. Thomas Senor on the Modal Attributes Thomas Senor argues that God, and, in particular, the Son, is not timeless. One of his arguments derives that the Son is mutable, and from this concludes that the 9 There are, of course, other, less likely, options. Perhaps he saw the contradiction but persevered in the teaching for some nefarious reason.

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Son is not timeless. As such, his argument for a temporal God is also an argument for a mutable God. In this section, I will consider that argument and two others.10 In his article, “Incarnation and Timelessness,” Senor provides two logically careful arguments against the atemporality of the Second Person. He calls the ﬁrst argument “[A]”; I follow his numbering below (Senor 1990, 150): P1) C1) P2) C2) P3) C3)

Jesus Christ read in the synagogue (at the start of His ministry) before He carried His cross. So, temporal predicates apply to Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ = God the Son. So, temporal predicates apply to God the Son. Temporal predicates don’t apply to timeless beings. So, God the Son isn’t timeless.

What ought a proponent of Conciliar Christology make of this argument? I think the proponent of Conciliar Christology should accept P1. The Gospels clearly represent Jesus Christ as doing things in an order. And I think that the proponent should also accept C1 as well, as following from P1. P2 is also true. Though the quotation from the Fathers at 2nd Constantinople does not use the phrase “God the Son” in the above-quoted anathema, the Person they were referring to when saying that Jesus Christ is a member of the Holy Trinity was the Son. As Senor (1990, 150) notes, C2 follows from C1 and P2 by Leibniz’s Law. So C2 should not be denied. And were P3 true, C3 would follow. So the proponent of both Conciliar Christology and the timelessness of the Son ought to, in my view, deny P3. What reasoning does Senor give in favor of it? I ﬁnd two claims made in support of it in Senor’s article. He writes “P3, I take it, is a conceptual truth. A part of what it is to call a being timeless is to say that temporal predicates don't apply to that being” (1990, 151) and “P3 is a conceptual truth and so can't be denied by anyone who understands it” (1990, 156). I do not ﬁnd these strong reasons for accepting P3. I have a carefully worked out concept of what it is to be timeless; I believe I understand that concept; and it is false that temporal predicates cannot apply to something that satisﬁes that concept. What reasons might a proponent of Conciliar Christology have for denying P3? As I’ve deﬁned the terms, one person can be both timeless and temporal, given that the person has two natures, and that those natures each play a distinct role in making one or the other (but not both) of those predicates apt of the person. And so, in such a situation, a person aptly predicated by “timeless” can also be aptly predicated by temporal predicates. On my account, then, P3 is false, and so argument [A] is unsound. Senor’s second argument, which he calls “[B],” goes as follows. Again, I will follow his numbering (1990, 157): P1) P2)

God the Son eternally (and essentially) has His Divine nature. The human (accidental) nature of God the Son is assumed (or “taken on”).

10 For a good and careful discussion of Senor’s arguments which concludes that they fail for a different reason, see Douglas Blount (2001) in Ganssle and Woodruff (2001).

202 P3) C1) C2) P4) C3)

In Defense of Conciliar Christology X’s assuming (or “taking on”) a nature involves a change in X’s intrinsic properties. So, the assumption of the human nature brings about a change in the intrinsic (though non-essential) properties of God the Son. So, the Son is mutable. Mutability entails temporal duration. So the Son is not timeless.

Again we can ask of this argument: What should the proponent of Conciliar Christology say in response to it? I grant P1. I also grant P2, so long as “accidental” is not meant to imply that a human nature is an accident (in the medieval sense) of a thing (see Chapter 3, Sections II and III). If it merely means that the human nature is contingently had by the Son, then I think the traditional Christian should grant it. Is P3 of this argument true? I think that it likely is. The thing which assumes is a person, so the X here should refer to the Second Person of the Trinity. Do the Second Person’s intrinsic properties change in becoming incarnate? Bodily posture is a standard example of an intrinsic property in the contemporary philosophical literature (e.g. sitting; standing).11 And the Son gained a bodily posture when taking on the assumed human nature. So the Son changed in intrinsic properties when becoming incarnate, however one understands the ontology of properties. For instance, if we understand contingent properties to be accidental features, in the medieval sense, then the Son goes from not having one to having one. Or, if you’d like, shortly after the incarnation begins, he goes from having one accidental feature (this particular bodily position) to having a different accidental feature (that particular bodily position). C1, then, is also true. The Conciliar texts explicitly teach that the Son is mutable, insofar as they teach that he died, and dying is a sort of change. And we can concede the claim, quite often made in discussions of classical theism, that change implies temporal duration. So P4 ought to be afﬁrmed, too. Must the proponent of Conciliar Christology afﬁrm C3, then, that the Son is not timeless? Not on my view. For, on my view, being mutable and being atemporal are not inconsistent. They are not inconsistent, provided the person in question has a nature that is timeless and another nature that can change. Christ fulﬁlls these conditions (given the assumption of divine atemporality, which I’ve made for the sake of argument). Thus, I claim that the proponent of Conciliar Christology ought to accept the premises and intermediate conclusions in this argument but deny the ﬁnal derivation from P1–P4 to C3. Senor does not understand the modal attributes in the same way I do. For he writes: In this paper I intend to use the word 'immutability' in a very strong sense. On this view, God is immutable if and only if he undergoes no change in any of his nonrelational properties. I choose this understanding of immutability since it is the only one

11 See, for instance, Jeffrey Brower (2011); William Lane Craig (1998, 122); Sally Haslanger (1989); David Lewis (2001a, 203–4); and Trenton Merricks (1994, 168).

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that is consistent with timelessness; if God is immutable only in some weaker sense, then He is temporal. (1990, 164)

I grant that if the term immutable is understood in this strong sense, then it is false that the Son is immutable. For the Son did, as Senor notes, do one thing after another. And he gained or lost properties (however one understands this ontologically) during his time on earth. But I deny that this is the only understanding of immutability consistent with timelessness, in part because I do not understand timelessness in the same way that Senor does. On my view, the predicate applies just in case the thing in question has a nature that is outside of time. And Christ has such a nature. So Christ is aptly called timeless. This is true even if he has a nature in virtue of which he is called temporal and changing. And he does have such a nature, at least according to Conciliar Christology. Finally, Senor offers a similar argument in a more recent piece. He (2002, 220) argues: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Jesus Christ was the bearer of temporal properties. No bearer of temporal properties is atemporal. Jesus Christ = God the Son (a divine person). God the Son is not atemporal.

Again, in response to this argument I grant 1 and 3, but I deny 2. Some bearer of temporal properties can be atemporal, provided that it also has a nature that fulﬁlls the truth conditions required for that predicate, “atemporal,” to be apt of it. The divine nature, on the assumption I’ve made here, is the nature in virtue of which the Second Person fulﬁlls the truth conditions for being atemporal.

IV.e. A Few General Points about These Objections At this point I would like to make a more general claim about Senor’s careful arguments, a claim that I think can be applied, with slight changes, to the other thinkers under discussion here as well. As noted above, Senor claims that the premise I reject of [A], his ﬁrst P3, is a conceptual truth. You can’t understand the terms and fail to see its truth, he says. And he claims near the end of that ﬁrst article that: The soundness of these arguments strikes me as obvious; i.e., the fact that Christians are committed to the identity of the Second Person of the Trinity and Jesus Christ would seem to clearly entail the Son's temporality. (Senor 1990, 161)

I agree with Senor about the clear entailment of the Son’s temporality. I am sympathetic with Senor’s claim of the objection’s soundness here if we deﬁne the terms in the way they are often deﬁned, in the Initial Truth Conditions that I gave above. To me, this signals that something has gone awry. I’m incredulous that there can be arguments that so obviously entail the falsity of a part of classical theism. I’m incredulous that all those extremely smart people who have been classical theists—Augustine, Anselm, Aquinas, and their myriad followers—would have failed to see an obvious inconsistency. Or would have failed to see that their understanding of the concept of timelessness includes the inability to take on temporal properties. Did they all fall asleep at the

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wheel? Did they fail to understand their own concepts, and so not see that those concepts so obviously entailed what Senor claims they do? What could account for this? More likely, I think, that Senor, as well as the other objectors under discussion in this chapter, is employing a concept that the earliest thinkers did not employ. If the concept of timelessness that the classical thinkers all afﬁrm of the Divine nature and Persons obviously entails, by its very concept, perceivable to anyone who understands the term, that the Incarnation didn’t happen, well, that’s good reason to think his concept is not their concept. Either that, or that they were, one and all, muddle-headed on this topic. More likely the former, I think. The deﬁnitions of the concepts I have provided avoid Senor’s arguments, and make sense of the conciliar claims I have quoted previously about the Son’s being both mutable and immutable, and passible and impassible. So I believe my understanding of the truth conditions for the terms to be closer to their intended understanding than Senor’s understanding is. A common theme has emerged from my responses to these arguments. Each argument presupposes that the relevant modal attribute pairs are inconsistent. They suppose, for instance, that if something is atemporal, then it is not temporal, or that if it is immutable, then it is not mutable. It is these incompatibility premises that I challenge in the arguments. But my approach need not be viewed as hostile to the projects of the thinkers in this section. For, in a sense, I agree with their conclusions. If we suppose the Initial Truth Conditions for the modal properties, I think these thinkers show what they intend to show. For instance, supposing, as follows from the Initial Truth Conditions for the predicates “mutable” and “immutable,” that, for anything, it is mutable iff it is not immutable, I think that these thinkers are right to conclude that Christ is not immutable. For the conciliar texts are quite clear that he did change during his incarnation. He did suffer, then die, then get buried, then become resurrected, then ascend. That is the correct ordering of events. So I concede that these thinkers have shown that, given the Initial Truth Conditions for the modal attributes, Christ is not impassible, immutable, and atemporal. Where I disagree with these thinkers, then, concerns the implications this has for traditional or classical Christian views. For I do not believe that the fathers intended to understand these terms in the way the opponents of Conciliar Christology take them to be deﬁned. I do not think they could have meant them in this sense, given the things they say about Christ. Rather, as I have argued, I believe they may well have meant the terms in the way I understand them here. And in that sense, none of these objectors have shown a ﬂaw in the Conciliar Christology.

V. H O W T HE M ET A PH YS I C S M IG H T W OR K Recall my goal for this book. I do not intend to show that Conciliar Christology is true. My intent is not even to show that it is possible. Rather, my only goal is to show that no argument I consider in this book is sufﬁcient for showing the falsity

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of Conciliar Christology. It might well be false for entirely different reasons. Perhaps the biblical witness gives sufﬁcient evidence for its falsity. (I believe that it does not, but I haven’t argued for that in this book.) Given my goal, I need not provide a metaphysical account of how the metaphysics might work in order to succeed. For merely pointing out that one hasn’t explained how a conjunction could be true is not sufﬁcient for showing it to be false. Even pointing out the lack of an explanation using rhetorical questions, raised eyebrows, incredulous stares, and bold assertion is not sufﬁcient to show that such a conjunction is false. I may not be able to understand how the incarnation (or gravity, or a cell phone, or a magnet) works, but that’s no sound argument to think that none of those things do work. So the chapter might end here, having shown that, on the truth conditions I prefer for the relevant predicates, none of the arguments I have considered shows a problem for Conciliar Christology. Nevertheless, it might be helpful to provide some explanation for how a thing can go from being only atemporal to being both atemporal and temporal. I should note, though, that even if the work of this section is a wretched failure, even if it is rife with heresy, falsity, and fallacy, even if it is a blot and embarrassment on my scholarly record—that does not redound negatively on the overall success of my one main goal. For even if I provide in this section an account worthy only of derision, that by itself is no positive argument for the falsity of Conciliar Christology. In a sense, then, this remaining section of the present chapter is not a loadbearing member of my project. Were it kicked aside, the rest would not topple. What might a Conciliar Christologist put forward as a viable story of how something timeless and changeless might become incarnate, and so temporal and changeable? Whatever she claims, she must hold that the divine nature of Christ does not change or enter time. And so whatever sort of story we tell of the incarnation, it must not be one where the divine nature goes from being one way to being another. For, on the story I favor, the truth conditions for being immutable are having or being a nature that is not changeable. That condition is met both by the divine Person of the Word and by the divine nature. And so, whatever we do, we must keep our eye on the prize, and make sure that, whatever it is we afﬁrm, we keep that truth condition met, and that nature unchanging. Likewise, too, that nature must remain outside of time, and it must not be causally affected by something else. Here is one such story. The incarnation is the assumption of a concrete human nature by a divine person. In the incarnation a concrete non-divine nature is united in a hypostatic union to the divine nature. To keep the divine nature unchanging, it must be that whatever change occurs such that the Word is literally and truly human, that change is not a change in or to the divine nature. Suppose for argument’s sake that creating does not require a real change in the Creator. This is a controversial assumption, I realize, but to argue for it takes me too far aﬁeld from Christology. Note, though, that if creating requires change in the creator, then already we have given up on divine immutability. And so, supposing the truth of Conciliar Christology, as I am in this book, and seeing that the councils clearly teach that God is immutable and that God creates, the claim that creating does not require change in the creator follows. Thus, this supposition, given the framing assumptions of my investigation, is not out of place.

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Given that creating does not require change in the Creator, I think there is sense to be made of the claim that the only change on the part of natures in the incarnation is change in the created nature. CHN is created, and the hypostatic union is created, and in virtue of those two things existing, it is true that CHN is assumed into the Word. In the language of truthmakers, the truthmaker for “The Word is incarnate” is the Word, the divine nature, CHN, and the hypostatic union. If we have the person, the natures in which the person exists, and the ontic glue that holds them in union, we have an incarnation. Notice the story does not require the divine nature to go from being one way to being another way. And it does not require the divine nature to enter time, or be causally affected. All it requires is that CHN and that particular hypostatic union come into existence. And if, as supposed, creating does not require change, then creating CHN and that particular hypostatic union does not require change. So it does not require change in the divine nature. The divine nature can remain as it “was,” so to speak, “prior to” the incarnation. But in that state it was a nature in virtue of which the predicates “atemporal,” “immutable,” and “impassible” were apt of the persons who have that nature. Thus, in the incarnate state, it is a nature in virtue of which the persons who have that nature are aptly called “atemporal,” “immutable,” and “impassible.” The Word, then, when incarnate, is atemporal, immutable, and impassible. But also temporal, mutable, and passible, due to CHN. This sort of story is likely new to no one reading this book. For it is the sort of story that Aquinas tells with his mixed relations in the incarnation.12 Some relations require a change on the parts of both relata. But others, mixed relations, require a change only on the part of one of the relata. For instance, if you go from not thinking about me to thinking about me, that might be expressed in a relational assertion, but the truth of that assertion does not depend on any change on my part. The change is all on your part. Or if my son, Henry, goes from being shorter than I am to being taller than me, while I stay the same height, that requires no change on my part, though he changes in the process. Similarly, Henry might go from being the youngest child in the family to not being the youngest child in the family, not because some other, younger child entered the family (e.g. adoption), but rather because some younger child began to exist in the family. In such a case, neither Henry nor that younger child change to make that true. Rather than changing, the younger child begins to be. Likewise, in this case, the incarnation requires no change in the Divine nature, but rather the human nature and the hypostatic union both begin to exist, and, given the nature of the hypostatic union and what it does, the Word is incarnate. According to Aquinas, the human nature (ST III q.16 a.10 ad.2) and the union (ST III q.2 a.7 resp) are both created things that begin to exist at a certain time. In the incarnation, when the human nature and the hypostatic union both exist, the human nature is thereby assumed into the person of the Word. The person of the Word changes as a consequence of the incarnation, as Gregory of Nyssa said in an earlier quotation, and as the fathers recognize when they claim that the Word suffers and dies.

12 Fr Weinandy (1985, chap. 3) works out this story in careful detail. See also J. P. Arendzen (1941, 159–60).

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Theologians have not squirmed away from claiming that the person becomes composite, or gains constituents. For instance, Metropolitan Alfeyev (2012, 291) quotes a condemnation penned by Gregory the Theologian half a century before the Council of Ephesus that says: Whoever imports two “sons,” one from the Father, a second from the mother, and not one and the same Son, loses the adoption promised to those who believe aright. Two natures there are, God and man . . . but not two “sons” or two “Gods” . . . . In sum: the constituents of our Savior are different things . . . but not different people—God forbid. The pair is one by coalescence, God being “in-manned” and man deiﬁed. (emphasis in original)

Note that Gregory talks of constituents of the Savior. Elsewhere this same passage is translated as follows, with additional text included: And (if I am to speak concisely) the Saviour is made of elements which are distinct from one another (for the invisible is not the same with the visible, nor the timeless with that which is subject to time), yet He is not two Persons. God forbid! (Wace 1894, 439)

Here Gregory predicates “visible” and “subject to time” to the human nature, but we also see him elsewhere predicate such predicates to the divine Person. Emperor Justinian likewise writes of a composite Christ: [I]f one would speak concisely; the Savior is composed of two different natures, for what is visible and what is invisible, and what is temporal and what is non-temporal are not the same. And yet he is not two different persons; absolutely not! (Wesche 1997, 31)

Moreover, Justinian approvingly cites St Cyril’s letter to Theodosius as saying: He is not composed simply of divinity and ﬂesh to form one Christ, and Lord, and Son; but he is composed of two complete natures, I mean of divinity and humanity, wondrously uniting them both in one and the same Person. (Wesche 1997, 33)

And later in life Justinian writes, in his “Edict on the True Faith”: Even after he became man our Lord Jesus Christ is One of the Holy Trinity, the onlybegotten Son of God, composed of both natures. And we confess the composite Christ in accordance with the teachings of the holy fathers. (Wesche 1997, 168)13

Finally, Fr Pohle (1913, 185) quotes Ephesus as saying: One composite person Christ is all God and all man. He is all God even with His manhood but not according to His manhood and He is all man with His Godhead but not according to His Godhead.

13 Justinian says similarly elsewhere, when he writes, “when we speak of one composite Christ constituted of each nature, that is of divinity and humanity, we do not introduce confusion into the union” and “one speaks properly of one composite hypostasis of the Divine Logos, but not of one composite nature” (Wesche 1997, 165, 179).

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The fathers here claim that Christ is composite, and Aquinas, too, afﬁrms that Christ is composite after the incarnation (see ST III, q.2 a.4).14 In the incarnation, the Son gains something, a human nature, and that nature is united to the Son’s divine nature by means of the hypostatic union. The divine nature does not change as a result of this union. Gilles Emery (2009, 73) says of St Thomas, citing ST III, q. 2, a. 7: St. Thomas conceives of the hypostatic union as a coupling of nonsymmetrical relations. This relation is “real” in the human nature, which receives a modiﬁcation by its union with the divinity, while it is a relation “of reason” in the divine nature, which undergoes no change.

This view has more recent defenders as well. Dunn (2001b, 81) cites Karl Rahner (Rahner 1982, 219–20), who writes: When at this point in Christology it deals with this apparently so vexing problem that God “became” something, it declares that the becoming and the change are on the side of the created reality which is assumed, but not on the side of the eternal, immutable Logos. Without a change in itself, the Logos assumes something which as a created reality does become: the human nature of Christ.

According to both Aquinas and Rahner, the divine nature stays wholly without change when it is united to the human nature. And Metropolitan Alfeyev (2012, 264) writes something similar from the Orthodox perspective: The Divine Word, coeternal and of one essence with the Father, remained such as he was even after taking on himself in the incarnation that which he is not—human nature . . . no change occurred in God at the moment of the incarnation: his essence remained as it had been.

And as Patrick Toner wrote in the Catholic Encyclopedia over one hundred years ago (Toner 1909): But as creation itself did not affect the immutability of God, so neither did the incarnation of a Divine Person; whatever change was involved in either case took place solely in the created nature.

Each of these thinkers claims that all the change that occurs as a result of the incarnation occurs in the created parts of the ontology. The divine nature remains as it was: changeless, atemporal, impassible. Aquinas wrote in his commentary on Paul’s Letter to the Romans, summarizing much of the content of this section: There were others who taught that the union was made by the conversion of the Word into ﬂesh, as it is said that air is made to become ﬁre . . . But this is clearly false because, since God is immutable . . . he cannot be changed into anything else. Hence, when it is said was made, this should not be understood as a change but as a union without any divine change. For something can be newly said of something 14 Perhaps here one will worry about whether the person of Christ can be simple, given that he is composite. I claim that he can. If we understand the truth conditions for the predicate “simple” to be “has a nature that is without metaphysical composition” then it is true that the Son is simple, even when composite. For more on the way in which Christ is composite, according to Aquinas, see West (2002).

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in a relative sense without the thing itself being changed; thus, a person remaining in one place comes newly to be on the right of something, which was moved from his right to his left. This is the way God is said to be Lord or Creator from a certain time, namely, by reason of a change affecting the creature. In the same way he is said to have been made something anew . . . Therefore, since union is a relation, it is through a change in the creature that God is newly said to have been made man, i.e., united in person to a human nature. (Aquinas 2012, 13–14)

In this passage Aquinas claims that all the change in the incarnation was on the creaturely side of the ontology, as the last sentence of the quotation so clearly expresses. God is newly said to be made man. The predication “God was made man” is true, and it is true in virtue of a change in created reality, not uncreated reality. It is true because of a change in CHN and the created union, not the uncreated divine nature. Given the created hypostatic union, the divine person can have different predications true of him, in accordance with how things outside of the Divine Nature are going. Because of that union, any duress undergone by CHN is literally and strictly duress undergone by the Word. The hypostatic union is an entity that the councils call ineffable (see Chapter 1, Section V for more on this). And so there is hardly any surprise if it turns out that one cannot adequately explain how it does what it does. How does the union make it such that Mary bearing CHN in her womb is her bearing God in her womb? We are given no answer in the councils, and I give no answer here. But, again, lacking an answer to the question of how the metaphysics works is no argument for the metaphysics not working.

VI. CONCLUSION In this chapter I have addressed objections to the possibility of an immutable, impassible, atemporal God becoming incarnate. All of these objections had the following characteristic: they employ as a premise the claim that one thing cannot go from being atemporal to temporal, or immutable to mutable, or impassible to passible. On my understanding of the terms, and of Conciliar Christology, such assumptions are false. I have argued why each assumption is false, and thus argued that each objection has at least one false premise or faulty inference. As such, the Conciliar Christologist who takes the approach to the Fundamental Problem I presented in Chapter Seven has a means by which to argue that all of the objections I have considered are unsound. And as unsound, they provide no logical or philosophical problem for the proponent of Conciliar Christology. I then brieﬂy sketched out a familiar line in the tradition wherein the changes that the Word undergoes in the incarnation are not changes in the divine nature. Given that the changes undergone are not in the divine nature, the divine nature is kept free of change, causal affection, and temporality. As such, it remains able to fulﬁll the truth conditions for the Word’s being immutable, impassible, and atemporal, even while CHN fulﬁlls the conditions required for the Word to be mutable, passible, and temporal.

9 Number Troubles I . I N T R O D U C TI ON In this chapter I consider a family of objections raised to Conciliar Christology. These objections are bound together insofar as they all claim that, given a certain number of some thing in Christ, a certain number of some other thing follows, where Conciliar Christology claims that Christ does, in fact, have the number of the ﬁrst sort of thing, but does not have the number of the second sort of thing. An example might be of use here. Some people claim that, for any number of natures present, that is also the number of hypostases or persons present. But according to Conciliar Christology, Christ has two natures, as we saw in Chapter 1 (Section II), and yet there is only one hypostasis or person of Christ. I will call objections of this type objections from number troubles.

I I . U N F RI EN D L Y C O N DI T I O NA L S In this section I present a deﬁnition and an example of the sort of conditional with which I will deal in this chapter (Section II.a.). I show that the truth of such conditionals is logically incompatible with the truth of Conciliar Christology. I then argue that, though few thinkers attempt to justify these conditionals explicitly, any argument in favor of the unicity of will or nature in Christ which is valid and includes or entails the claim that Christ is a single person will have, as a necessary condition for its soundness, the truth of such a conditional (Section II.b.).

II.a. The Deﬁnition of Unfriendly Conditionals and Why They are Unfriendly We might call conditionals where Conciliar Christology is committed to the truth of the antecedent and the falsity of the consequent “Conditionals Unfriendly to Conciliar Christology,” or, “unfriendly conditionals” for short. We can see why they are unfriendly to Conciliar Christology by considering an example. Consider the “Person-Nature” conditional, or “PN” for short: The Person-Nature Conditional:

If Christ is (only) one person, then Christ has (only) one nature.

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The truth of the Person-Nature Conditional would be devastating for Conciliar Christology. For Conciliar Christology teaches, as we saw in Chapter 1, Section II, that 1. Christ is (only) one person.

And so, were PN true, one could deduce from PN and 1: 2. Christ has (only) one nature. (From PN, 1, Modus Ponens.)

The truth of 2, however, is contradictory to the claim, deﬁned by Conciliar Christology (again, see Chapter 1, Section II), that: 3. It is false that Christ has (only) one nature.

And so we see that PN is inconsistent with the conjunction of 1 and 3. If the conjunction of 1 and 3 is true, then PN is false. Contraposing the previous sentence, if PN is true, it follows that the conjunction of 1 and 3 is false. But if the conjunction of 1 and 3 is false, then it follows that Conciliar Christology—a larger conjunction including 1 and 3 as conjuncts—is false, too. Thus, (by hypothetical syllogism), if PN is true, Conciliar Christology is false. A similar argument to the same conclusion is as follows: 4. Suppose that the conjunction of the Person-Nature Conditional and Conciliar Christology is true. 3. It is false that Christ has (only) one nature. 5. It is false that Christ is (only) one person. 1. Christ is (only) one person. 6. Contradiction! 7. Thus, the conjunction of the Person-Nature Conditional and Conciliar Christology is false. 8. Thus, either the Person-Nature Conditional is false, or Conciliar Christology is false. 9. Thus, if the Person-Nature Conditional is true, then Conciliar Christology is false.

(For reductio.) (From Conciliar Christology.) (From 3, PN, Modus Tollens.) (From Conciliar Christology.) (From 5, 1, conjunction introduction.) (From 1, 3–6, reductio ad absurdum.) (From 7, De Morgans.) (From 8, Material Implication.)

Premise 4 is assumed for the sake of argument. Conciliar Christology entails Premises 1 and 3. Premise 5 follows from the truth of Premise 3 and the PersonNature Conditional, by Modus Tollens. Step 6 conjoins 5 and 1 to yield a contradiction. Step 7 discharges the assumption made for reductio. Step 8 follows from 7 by the De Morgans equivalence law. Step 9 follows from 8 by way of Material Implication (it also follows from 7; all three of those claims are equivalent). Given the truth of 9, the defender of Conciliar Christology will see the need to show any argument in favor of the Person-Nature Conditional to be unsound or at least to lack sufﬁcient justiﬁcation for at least one premise of the argument. For, if the Person-Nature Conditional is true, by 9, Conciliar Christology is false. Similar examples could be given for other unfriendly conditionals. Any conditional statement whose antecedent is a teaching of Conciliar Christology and whose consequent a denial of some teaching of Conciliar Christology will lead to the same conclusion: it is true only if Conciliar Christology is false. The proponent of Conciliar Christology, then, must deny the truth of every unfriendly conditional.

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In what follows, I will consider three unfriendly conditionals and arguments in their favor. The ﬁrst is the Person-Nature Conditional already given. The second we might call the Person-Will Conditional, or PW for short: The Person-Will Conditional

If Christ is (only) one person, then Christ has (only) one will.

A third conditional is a Person-Mind Conditional: The Person-Mind Conditional

If Christ is (only) one person, then Christ has (only) one mind.

There is less conciliar evidence for this third conditional than there is for the previous two. For instance, there is no explicit afﬁrmation that Christ has two intellects, though there are explicit conciliar declarations that he has two natures and two wills (see Chapter 1, Sections II–IV for evidence). There is some evidence for the Person-Mind Conditional, though. As I will have reason to quote more fully later, Leo claims that each nature thinks, with the Divine thinking I and the Father are one, and human thinking The Father is greater than I. Moreover, the reasoning given for why Christ has a human will (because he has a complete human nature, and wills come with complete human natures; because his human nature is “ﬂesh which is possessed by a rational and intellectual soul” (Tanner 1990, 115)) justiﬁes his having a human intellect or mind as well—intellectual souls require intellects. Fr Baker (2013, 26) reads the councils as entailing that Christ had two intellects for these reasons. In this chapter, I will consider number troubles concerning each of these three conditionals. Contraposition is a valid inference form. That is, from “if A, then B,” we can validly derive “if not-B, then not-A.” This is useful when considering unfriendly conditionals as well, since not all instances of these conditionals are put in the same way as I put them above. For instance, some thinkers may say “If Christ has more than one will, then there is more than one person” or “If Christ has two wills, then there are two persons.” These two claims, by my lights, are variations on the contraposition of the Person-Will Conditional. I will treat such statements and other similar variations as instances of the Person-Will Conditional. And I will do likewise for the Person-Nature Conditional and the Person-Mind Conditional. One might wonder at this point: do many arguments require the truth of the unfriendly conditionals? I argue, in the next section, that any argument which attempts to derive the unicity of Christ’s nature, will, or intellect, while retaining the unity of his personhood is committed to the truth of one or the other of these conditionals.

II.b. Unfriendly Conditionals and the (Alleged) Unicity of Christ’s Nature, Will, or Intellect It is seldom the case that one ﬁnds arguments explicitly in favor of these conditionals. But note that any valid argument that has as a premise that Christ is one person and which attempts to derive that either Christ has but one will, or nature, or intellect, will entail, if sound, the truth of one of these conditionals. For example, suppose that one intends to derive the truth of Monothelitism—the

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claim that Christ has but one will. And suppose one wants to derive Monothelitism by a chain of valid inferences that includes or entails Premise 1 above, that Christ is (only) one person. If the argument is sound, the inference is valid and the premises are true. Thus, were the argument sound, it would follow that the conclusion is true. So if the argument is sound, both the premises and the conclusion will be true. Supposing still the soundness of the argument, Premise 1 and Monothelitism are true. Thus, the truth conditions for The Person-Will Conditional are met. So The Person-Will conditional is true. It follows that, if there is a sound argument to derive the truth of Monothelitism that includes Premise 1, then the Person-Will Conditional is true. Contraposing this conclusion, if the Person-Will Conditional is false, then the argument to derive the truth of Monotheism is unsound. Thus, the truth of the Person-Will Conditional is a necessary condition for any sound argument for Monothelitism that includes or entails Premise 1. Even if these conditions are not argued for, then, they are still vital for the success of very many arguments given against the truth of Conciliar Christology, since many such arguments assume or entail the (single) personhood of Christ. In fact, I think it fair to say that in theological discussions and contexts, if one can show that an argument entails the claim that Christ is not a single person, that is sufﬁcient for undermining the argument. The unicity of person in Christ is taken as a conditio sine qua non in much, if not most, of Christian theology. I return to this condition in Section V where I discuss Nestorianism.

II.c. The Deﬁnitions of Person, Nature, Will, and Intellect Since the arguments in this chapter deal so heavily with the notions of person, nature, and will, it is a good thing to get them clear from the outset. In Chapter 2 I presented deﬁnitions for the terms “person” and “nature.” Here I will reiterate those deﬁnitions, along with the deﬁnition of the term “hypostasis,” which is useful for understanding the term “person” as the Church Fathers used it. Then I will present an understanding of the terms “will” and “intellect” that I take to be how the authors of the conciliar statements meant the terms. Here are the deﬁnitions of the terms “hypostasis” and “person” that I will use in this chapter, unless I note otherwise: Supposit (Hypostasis) Person

X is a supposit (hypostasis) if and only if x is a complete being, incommunicable by identity, not apt to inhere in anything, and not sustained by anything. X is a person if and only if x is a supposit with a rational nature.

The four conditions on the right hand side of the Supposit conditional are discussed in more detail in Chapter 2, Section II.a. Concerning the term “nature,” one might mean the Person-Nature Conditional as referring to types of natures, or particular tokens that instantiate that type of nature. In light of this distinction, I will present two deﬁnitions of “nature” that I presented in Chapter 2, Section II.b.:

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In Defense of Conciliar Christology x is an abstract nature of y if and only if x is a property or set of properties the instantiation of which by a thing is necessary and sufﬁcient for that thing’s being (a) y. x is a concrete nature of some type, y, if and only if x is an individual instance of y, and y is an inﬁma species.

In Chapter 2 (Section II.b.2) I presented two arguments for the conclusion that the conciliar statements understand the human nature discussed when referring to what Christ assumed as a concrete nature. Finally, what of the terms “will” and “intellect”? Here I will understand them functionally: Will: Intellect (Mind):

A will is that thing in virtue of which something desires. An intellect is that thing in virtue of which something thinks.

These are minimal, functional deﬁnitions of the terms, and intentionally so. I do not want my responses to these objections to follow from an idiosyncratic notion of will or intellect. If the Doctrine of Divine Simplicity is true, then that thing in virtue of which the Persons of the Trinity desire is the same as that thing in virtue of which the Persons act or think. That thing is the same one, simple divine nature. But, as discussed in Chapter 2 (Section IV.c.), there is no (or only very slight) evidence in favor of divine simplicity in the ﬁrst seven ecumenical councils. So I will not take a stand on the truth of divine simplicity in this chapter. One should note that if the unfriendly conditionals I discuss in this chapter employ the terms in ways foreign to the ways the conciliar fathers employed them, then it might well be that the unfriendly conditionals turn out to be amicable after all. For if the terms are employed in ways foreign to Conciliar Christology, or foreign to the way that Conciliar Christology has been interpreted through the long intellectual history of the Church, the opponent of Conciliar Christology owes its proponents some additional reasoning that shows that the truth of the unfriendly conditionals using these different notions is detrimental to Conciliar Christology. For instance, suppose one deﬁnes “person” in the Person-Will Conditional to mean “something with the ability to perform some rational activities,” where rational activities might include acts of intellection or rational desire. In such a case, then, the deﬁnition of “person” is apt of the (concrete) human nature of Christ, according to Conciliar Christology. For Conciliar Christology says, in no unclear terms: [T]he difference of the natures being made known in the same one subsistence in that each nature wills and performs the things that are proper to it in a communication with the other; then in accord with this reasoning we hold that two natural wills and principles of action meet in correspondence for the salvation of the human race. (Tanner 1990, 129–30, emphasis added)

Thus, if being aptly predicated by the term “wills” is sufﬁcient for being a person, in this sense of person, CHN is itself a person. And the term is apt, in that same

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sense, of the divine nature of Christ. So there would be two persons—“person” understood in the sense deﬁned in this paragraph—in Christ. And these two persons are distinct, since the divine nature and the human nature are distinct (that is, not numerically identical) things. Is such a dual “personhood” detrimental to Conciliar Christology? So far, the answer is “No.” This is because, so far, I have said nothing that entails something contradictory with Conciliar Christology. One needs to provide another, further, step of argumentation, a step that says something like, “if something is a person in the ability-to-perform-rational-activities-like-willing sense, then it is a person in the hypostasis-of-a-rational-nature sense.” Only when the Person-Will Conditional is conjoined to some additional conditional premise of the sort I just gave does its truth—when understood in the sense presented here— offend against Conciliar Christology. Calling a dog’s tail a “leg” will not yield a ﬁfth leg on the beast, and calling the Lord’s human nature a “person” will not yield a second person in the incarnation. In the following sections of this chapter, I follow this pattern. First, I present instances of individuals asserting that Christ’s unicity of personhood entails the unicity of nature or of will or of intellect in Christ. Then I discuss speciﬁc arguments that are attempts to show the conditionals to be true, or attempts to show something that entails the truth of the unfriendly conditional. I assess the cogency of each argument I encounter, arguing that all fail to establish an unfriendly conditional where the terms are employed with the deﬁnitions provided in this section.

I I I . A S S E R T I O N S OF N U M B E R T R O U B L E S The Person-Nature Conditional is no unexpected newcomer to discussions of Conciliar Christology. John of Damascus devoted chapters of his Exact Exposition of the Orthodox Faith to arguing against it.1 Herbert Relton claims that it was due to the acceptance of the Person-Nature Conditional that Apollinarius afﬁrmed that Christ lacked a human soul, and so lacked a complete human nature. For, as Relton (1917, 10–11) tells the history, on Apollinarius’ view, If Christ were perfect God and perfect man there would be two natures, and therefore two persons . . . The only way out of this difﬁculty was to deny to Christ the possession of a human nous at all.

Similarly, Eutyches fell into heresy by the same trap. Accepting the Person-Nature Conditional and accepting the unity of divine person in Christ, he saw no other way than to deny the duality of natures in Christ (Relton 1917, 31–2). Nestorius climbed on the same steed but fell off the other side. He, too, accepted the Person-Nature Conditional, but rather than accept its antecedent,

1

See, for instance, book 3, chap. 3.

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and so conclude its consequent, he denied its consequent, and so denied its antecedent. As Relton (1917, 42) says: The fear of Apollinarianism resulted in Nestorianism and Eutychianism. Both these heresies, though diverse in origin, were nevertheless the fruit of the same difﬁculty which Apollinaris had tried to overcome, viz. how can Two Complete Natures be united in One Person? Nestorianism answers the question by postulating Two Persons as a result of the union; Eutychianism solves the problem by eliminating one of the Natures, and so secures the unity of the Person.

For Nestorius and Eutyches, one man’s Modus Ponens was the other’s Modus Tollens. For the proponent of Conciliar Christology, the answer is to deny the underlying, assumed conditional which leads to these difﬁculties: The PersonNature Conditional. The question then becomes, what good reasons are there for accepting this unfriendly conditional? Unfortunately, it is difﬁcult to ﬁnd people who both employ and argue for the truth of the unfriendly conditionals. Oftentimes, one ﬁnds rhetorical questions or bald assertions in its defense, such as when Don Cupitt (1979, 44–5) writes: A historically minded age can no longer claim to perceive two distinct compresent natures in Jesus. Jesus is simply human. So if divinity is to be predicated of Jesus, it must be predicated of his humanity.

One wonders here whether it was the norm of previous ages, whether historically minded or not, to claim to perceive the natures in Jesus. Did John of Damascus’s contemporaries, for instance, claim to perceive the divine nature? And what is it about a historically minded age that allows us to see the simple humanity of Jesus? How is this not an appeal to how-very-smart-we-are-nowadays to justify the denial of Conciliar Christology? Likewise, Cupitt writes elsewhere of the Person-Will Conditional, in an argument criticizing kenotic approaches, but equally applicable (or inapplicable) to non-kenotic approaches (1979, 45): For how are we to imagine this dual consciousness in God the Son? It is as if a bit of my personality breaks off in such a way that it believes itself from its point of view to be an independent personality and agent. It is unaware of me, but I am aware of it, and I know from my superior vantage point that it is not really independent. So I acknowledge it as me and its acts and experiences as my own.

Not only is no argument given here against a dual consciousness view, the view is mischaracterized. Christ’s uniﬁed personality is not fragmented at the incarnation, as if part of it were chipped away. Rather, he gains a new faculty for rational activity. This text, then, is doubly unfortunate from an argumentative point of view. A similar example of rhetoric lacking rational argumentation is from John Dahms, in his article, “How Reliable is Logic” (1978, 373). There he writes a scathing critique of the view that Christ is one person with two complete natures. Here I quote the entirety of his discussion of the doctrine of the incarnation in that article: The orthodox doctrine of the incarnation also provides a problem for those who insist that logic is universally applicable. How can there be two natures but only one person,

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especially if it be remembered that the debate over monothelitism led to the conclusion that the two-natures doctrine implies that Jesus Christ had two wills? That one person can have two wills would seem to be contrary to the law of contradiction. Of course there are “conservatives” who declare that in Christ “there are not two wills, one Divine and one human.” One suspects that the law of contradiction has inspired such a judgment, though one wonders whether they are not violating that same law when they continue to afﬁrm that “each nature is complete in itself.” Be that as it may, by what logic is it possible for a nature that cannot be tempted to be united with a nature that can be tempted, or for a nature that cannot grow weary to be united with one that can grow weary, or for a nature that is always in full and perfect favor with God to be united with a nature that can grow in favor with God? The Monophysites and the Nestorians had more respect for logic than the orthodox, as did the Docetists and the Ebionites before them, and as do those liberals who deny the incarnation today. It is not without some justiﬁcation that Paul Tillich speaks of the “inescapable contradictions and absurdities into which all attempts to solve the Christological problem in terms of the two-nature theory were driven.”

The rhetoric is quite impressive, at least. We are asked questions about how things can be as the orthodox say they are, but given no arguments for why they cannot be that way. We read reports of suspicions of violations of logic, but no actual violations are showcased. We ﬁnd a few apparent insults, if being told that even the heretics had more respect for logic than that is meant to be insulting. And we are treated to a quotation from a prominent scholar concerning all the problems one faces with a two-natures Christology, without being told what any of those problems, in fact, are. But as for justiﬁcation, or argument, or reason, one might do well to look elsewhere. Not elsewhere in this article, though. What I have quoted above is the totality of the text concerning this issue in the article. Again, when presenting a list of things we must say of Jesus, H. R. MacKintosh (1912, 470) writes, without argumentation: We cannot predicate of Him two consciousnesses or two wills; the New Testament indicates nothing of the kind, nor indeed is it congruous with an intelligible psychology.2

That last bold claim, the claim that a two-consciousness view is not consistent with any intelligible psychology, goes without justiﬁcation. Such instances of boldly asserting the truth of an unfriendly conditional or rhetorically questioning its falsehood sans argument are all too common and easily multiplied. Nevertheless, such instances aside, there are some cases in which unfriendly conditionals, or arguments that entail them, are defended. In the following, I will discuss three such cases. Each case, I claim, fails. I V . A R G U M E N T S F O R NU M B E R TR O U B L E S In this section I discuss arguments for number troubles from Garrett DeWeese, Colin Gunton, and Andrew Loke.3 2

I learned of this text from Ivor Davidson (2005, 181). Others who discuss number problems include: J. P. Arendzen (1941, 259–68); Kenneth Baker (2013, 63); T. W. Bartel (1995); Francis Ferrier (1962, 136–50); P. T. Forsyth (2006, 319); A. T. Hanson 3

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IV.a. Garrett DeWeese on Number Troubles One thinker who carefully considers the implications of a view wherein Christ has two wills and two minds is Garrett DeWeese. DeWeese (2007, 131) writes: I believe that the quasi-Nestorian aspects of the dyothelite model can be seen most clearly when we consider its implication that Christ had two minds and two wills.

DeWeese provides three lines of argument. I will assess whether they call into question the adequacy of the belief that Christ was one person with two wills. In my view, they do not. The ﬁrst reason goes as follows (DeWeese 2007, 131): First, the view that a person could have two minds (two wills, two consciousnesses) is, on its face, implausible. We surely have prima facie justiﬁcation to believe that whenever we encounter a mind (of a suitable complexity which would rule out animal minds), we encounter a person.

After claiming the alleged justiﬁcation we have for believing that whenever we encounter the right sort of mind, we encounter a person, DeWeese (2007, 132) goes on to claim, when discussing the analogies put forward to defend dyothelitism: [S]urely, if the best analogies for a model of the incarnation rely on abnormal psychology, something must be amiss with the model . . . [I]t seems desirable to avoid any conceptual model of the incarnation that attributes to Jesus a condition that we would consider pathological in any other person, unless such a model were forced upon us.

I believe that at this point the ﬁrst line of reasoning comes to a close. What to make of it? At least three things. First, the line of argumentation lacks justiﬁcation for its central premises. We are told the dyothelite position is “implausible.” We are told it is contrary to something we “surely have prima facie justiﬁcation to believe.” We are told that, “surely,” analogies that draw on abnormal psychology are signs of a defective model. But no evidence is provided in the text for these claims about what is sure and what is plausible. Second, not only is no evidence in the offering for these claims, I think there is reason to deny some of them. For instance, I do not take it to be a problem that the best analogies for the model are analogies that employ abnormal psychology. The psychology, says the dyothelite, is abnormal in this case. It would be peculiar if the psychology of a person with two wills could be modeled more aptly after the nonabnormal (normal?) psychology of a person with one will. Furthermore, suppose we grant the assumption that if the best analogies rely on abnormal psychology, then something is amiss. Then the dyothelite still has a (1984); Jan-Olav Henriksen (2009, 208–16); Richard Holland (2012, 76); Joseph Jedwab (2011, 178–80); Robert Jenson (2002, 19); Roch Kereszty (2002, 361–8); Gordon Lewis and Bruce Demarest (1996, 317); John McIntyre (1966, 101–6); J. P Moreland and William Lane Craig (2003, 600–13); Thomas Morris (1987, 153–62); Gerald O’Collins (2002, chap. 7); Wolfhart Pannenberg (1968, 329–34); T. E. Pollard (1955, 361–2); Augustus Strong (1907, 694–5); Richard Sturch (1991, 28–9, 138–41); and Thomas Thompson and Cornelius Plantinga (2006, 169–70).

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means of avoiding the difﬁculty by claiming that, given the right understanding, the analogies are not relying on abnormal or pathological psychology. Normalcy and pathology are context-sensitive predicates. What is normal in one context, or for persons of one type (e.g. angels; humans) might well be abnormal or pathological for persons of another type. Is Christ pathological? It depends on the context. If the context is one-minded human persons, then he is not a normal member of that group. But if the context is two-minded persons, then the dyothelite will balk at the claim that we are attributing something abnormal or pathological to Christ. We would say the same sorts of things for any person with two minds. I would consider two minds or wills pathological for any one-natured person. But for any two-natured person, I would ﬁnd the absence of this condition pathological. Similarly, there are mental states the creator of everything (else) would have, but that I think anyone who is not the creator of everything would be pathological to have. For instance, the ﬁxed mental state of viewing oneself as the source and summit of all goodness, truth, and being. I would ﬁnd the presence of such a mental state pathological for any non-divine person, but the absence pathological for any divine person. Third, suppose one grants all the claims, including the purportedly justiﬁed allegedly problematic claim for the dyothelite: “whenever we encounter a mind (of a suitable complexity which would rule out animal minds), we encounter a person.” I do not see why the dyothelite must deny this claim, or how its truth implies anything quasi-Nestorian. This condition says nothing about the number of persons one encounters. The conditional is consistent with my encountering two minds, and each mind belonging to one and the same person. If DeWeese instead meant something stronger—perhaps the claim that every mind we encounter is the mind of only one person, and each person has only one mind—then what we have here is a case of assertion, not argumentation. Thus, concerning DeWeese’s ﬁrst argument, the controversial premises are not supported, the charge of abnormalcy and its implications is avoidable, and, the conclusion is consistent with dyothelitism. Consider, then, the second line of argument. DeWeese considers the relation between the two wills of Christ. He writes, quoting Richard Swinburne at the beginning of the quotation (2007, 133): If the “ ‘subjection’ of the human will to the divine is then naturally interpreted as any human desires always being kept in place by stronger divine desires,” one cannot help wondering whether the inﬁnite difference between human and divine desires within one person would not render the power of the human desires vanishingly small . . . On the dyothelite model, not only does Christ’s human will threaten to disappear, but Christ’s entire human mind as well . . . The unintended result of this line of thinking is that Christ’s human will/mind/consciousness becomes little more than a theoretical entity with no observable consequences in the life of Christ. Christ’s exemplary role as a perfect man simply evaporates.4

4

DeWeese is quoting from Richard Swinburne’s The Christian God (1994, 198–9).

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I have a difﬁcult time discerning the argument here. It appears to go like this. The human will is subjected to the divine will. And that subjection amounts to the divine will always keeping the human will in place. But if the divine will is always acting on the human will in this way, then the power of Christ’s human desires is vanishingly small, his human mind and will have no observable consequences in his life, and he does not fulﬁll his role as an example of a perfect human. DeWeese here quotes Swinburne in the antecedent of the important conditional he uses for his argument. He wonders whether the “being kept in place” that Swinburne mentions will make the human mind and its activity vanish. This depends on how the will is “kept in place.” One might even question whether that is an apt characterization of what is happening, but concede it for now. If the subjection is such that it doesn’t drag the human will around, then there is room for the human will to make an observable difference. Suppose the divine will just sets parameters around some activities of the human will. It is, say, similar to a parent teaching a child to walk. The child is doing the walking, but the parent is ready to swoop in and catch the child, were he to begin falling. In such a case, the child’s power to walk (or legs) have observable consequences in the life of the child. The child could be, after a bit of training, an exemplar for teaching other little kids how to walk (were toddlers the sort of beasts who paid any attention to the exemplars their parents wish them to copy). The analogy is not important here, though. What is important is that whether or not the powers of the human desires are vanishingly small, whether the powers and mind threaten to disappear, whether the mind has observable consequences, and whether the exemplary role evaporates all depends upon the theory of subjection one embraces. The weaker the subjection, the more room the human mind has to work. DeWeese provides the reader no reason to afﬁrm a strong view of subjection. And so the reader is left with no reason to see a problem here for dyothelitism. One ﬁnal note about this second line of argument. Suppose it were sound. It would show, I think, that the dyothelite model, if true, would make the human mind disappear, or make it a mere theoretical entity. In such a case, why would we call this a “quasi-Nestorian” view? There is no second thing there to count as a person if the mind has vanished into theory and has no causal powers. Finally, consider the third argument DeWeese provides. He writes: [I]f the two-minds view entails (as it apparently does) two self-consciousnesses, then the following is not only a possibility, but must have in fact been the normal case: CHN is conscious of being a “self ” and of having experience E, say, being tempted in the wilderness. The Logos is conscious of being a “self” and of having experience F, say, of creating the world. Not surprisingly, CHN is not conscious of F as his [sic] own experience. But, on the two-minds view, neither is the Logos conscious of experience E as his own experience (although, being omniscient, the Logos knows that CHN had the experience E). And this is the point, I believe, where the quasi-Nestorian aspects of the medieval model are felt most acutely.

Here the argument appears to be that if a view of the incarnation entails that there are two conscious beings (e.g. CHN and the Logos) that experience two things (E and F), and neither is conscious of both as his own experiences, then such a view is Nestorian, or feels quasi-Nestorian. The dyothelite Christology, claims DeWeese, fulﬁlls the conditions in the antecedent. Thus that Christology, here

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called the medieval model, is Nestorian or feels quasi-Nestorian. What to make of this argument? Here DeWeese characterizes dyothelite Christology as claiming or implying that there is one thing, the Logos, that experiences F as his own experience, but not E. And then there is another thing, the CHN, that has his own experience E, but does not experience F. It is not surprising that a whiff of Nestorianism is present after this exposition. But it seems to me that the odor arises from the telling, not the Christology. The dyothelite will claim that there are two wills and perhaps two minds and consciousnesses. But here the telling makes those very minds, wills and consciousness sound like persons. DeWeese sees the Logos, the “divine personal suppositum,” as the ﬁrst conscious thing, self-conscious of his own experience. Likewise, the CHN receives a personal pronoun in the telling: CHN has “his own experience” as we are told the Logos has his own experience. This is too many “his”s for the dyothelite. DeWeese claims above that “on the two-minds view, neither is the Logos conscious of experience E as his own experience” I deny this. I deny that the Logos, that divine personal suppositum, is not conscious of being tempted as his own experience. Would the dyothelite also have to claim that the Logos, the person, was unaware of being cruciﬁed, of preaching, of weeping, and so on as his own experiences? They are his (the person’s) own experiences; why couldn’t he be conscious of them as such? I do see why one might think that such entailments are Nestorian. But I fail to see why the dyothelite is stuck claiming these things. To conclude my discussion of DeWeese, then, I ﬁnd that none of his three reasons provide good reason to afﬁrm the Person-Will conditional.

IV.b. Colin Gunton on Number Troubles Colin Gunton (2003, 29) writes: When Jesus says, ‘not my will, but yours be done’, the gospel appears to imply that it is at least conceivable that the Son will other than his Father. To avoid the problem of there being two wills in God, two are attributed to Christ. There must be in Christ himself, it was argued, two wills, a divine will and a human will, and what we see in Gethsemane is the human nature’s will accepting that of the divine nature. But that simply will not do. There are two reasons. First, the decision which was taken to the effect that will is an attribute of nature and not of the hypostasis or person leads to saying that natures have wills, with an inevitably Nestorian outcome. A human nature and a divine nature cannot will anything. Only persons have wills, especially if by ‘will’ we mean that which initiates or brings about action directed to an object or end. But if we examine what is entailed, we shall realize that it is a mistake to make will into a kind of entity or object. It means, rather, a person willing something rather than some hypostatized entity within the person of such a kind that one person can have two of them. It can be argued, second, that scripture supports this position.

Here I will be interested in his ﬁrst reason concerning the Nestorian entailments of two wills, and not his second reason, concerning proper scriptural interpretation, which he goes on to provide immediately after this quotation in the book.

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Concerning his ﬁrst reason, it appears to me to go like this: If Christ’s wills are predicated of the natures of Christ, then Nestorianism is true. But Nestorianism is false. And so Christ’s wills are not predicated of the natures. We predicate will, rather, to the person. And since there is only one person, then there is only one will, contra the claims of Conciliar Christology. What should we make of this argument? I see no reason provided to afﬁrm that natures cannot perform the act of willing, or that only persons have wills. These claims are asserted without justiﬁcation. Moreover, I ﬁnd no justiﬁcation elsewhere in the book for these claims. While any Conciliar Christologist will agree that no will is a hypostasized entity, this alone gives little evidence for thinking that wills are not entities. Concerning the argument as I’ve presented it, the proponent of Conciliar Christology will agree with the claim that Nestorianism is false, but disagree that claiming that wills belong to natures entails Nestorianism, and so disagree with the ﬁrst (conditional) premise of the argument. Since no evidence is given of that ﬁrst premise, the proponent of Conciliar Christology is given no reason for thinking that it is true. Moreover, as I have noted in previous chapters of this book, the Conciliar Christologist has reason for thinking it is false. To give just one example, recall again the quotation from the assembled Fathers at 3rd Constantinople: [T]he difference of the natures being made known in the same one subsistence in that each nature wills and performs the things that are proper to it in a communication with the other; then in accord with this reasoning we hold that two natural wills and principles of action meet in correspondence for the salvation of the human race. (Tanner 1990, 129–30, emphasis added)

Each nature wills, according to Conciliar Christology, and that willing is proper to each nature, though done in communication with the other nature. So there are two natural wills—wills of the natures—in the one divine person. Without evidence to support the ﬁrst premise of Gunton’s argument, it is not a motivating reason to deny Conciliar Christology.

IV.c. Andrew Loke on Number Troubles Andrew Loke has written a careful and well-argued series of articles on Christology, culminating in a book on the topic.5 In at least three of these articles (2009, 59; 2013, 595-596; 2014a, 102–103), he gives the same argument against the view that Christ has two minds. In the latter two, he again repeats a second argument with little change, even in wording. I will discuss these two arguments in what follows. The ﬁrst of these two arguments claims that, if Jesus has two consciousnesses or two minds, then he has two self-consciousnesses, or two faculties of “I-thoughts.” But if he has two self-consciousnesses, then he is two persons. As Loke puts the conclusion of this same argument in an early article:

5

For some of these articles, see Loke (2009; 2011; 2013; 2014a); for the book, see Loke (2014b).

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Hence, what follows from the “two-consciousness” model is that Jesus would be two persons as asserted by the heretical Nestorianism.” (2009, 59)

Since Jesus is not two persons, it follows, from this argument, that it is false that Jesus has two consciousnesses or two minds. The second argument goes as follows (2013, 13): Furthermore, on the Two Consciousnesses model, it would seem that the human consciousness and the divine consciousness could encounter and address each other simultaneously, thus they could exist in a simultaneous I-Thou relationship to each other. But the possibility of such I-Thou relationship implies two persons. Hence, what follows from the Two Consciousnesses model is that Jesus would be two persons as afﬁrmed by Nestorianism.

The structure of this argument is the same as the previous argument. Both have the form: 10. 11. 12. 13.

If the two-consciousness model is true, then X. If X, then Nestorianism is true. Nestorianism is false. Therefore, the two-consciousness model is false.

Here, X is the claim that the consciousnesses could address each other in an I-thou relationship. In the ﬁrst argument, X was the claim that Christ has two selfconsciousnesses. Both arguments are valid (11 and 12 yield X; X and 10 yield 13; both inferences by Modus Tollens). The proponent of both Conciliar Christology and the two-consciousness view must deny the conclusion, and must afﬁrm the premise that says Nestorianism is false. So the only two options for such a person are to deny that the two-consciousness model has the implication the ﬁrst premise says it does (i.e. deny 10), or deny that that implication entails Nestorianism (i.e. deny 11). I will consider the arguments in turn. Consider the ﬁrst argument. Loke carefully defends both relevant premises, the instances of 10 and 11. Concerning the instance of premise 10, he (2013, 595) writes: Nevertheless, the main problem with this model has not been adequately addressed, and this concerns Christ’s self-consciousness. . . . the Two Consciousnesses model would entail that the Logos having his human range of consciousness was consciously aware of himself being consciously unaware of the day of his coming (Mark 13:32). At the same time, the Logos having his divine range of consciousness was aware of himself being consciously aware of the day of his coming. In other words, the Logos would be aware of himself being consciously aware of the day of his coming, and aware of himself being consciously unaware of the day of his coming at the same time. He would have self-consciousness SC1: “I am aware of myself being consciously aware of the day of my coming,” and simultaneously self-consciousness SC2: “I am aware of myself being consciously unaware of the day of my coming.”

I grant this reasoning, and so grant the truth of the relevant instance of premise 10: if Jesus has two consciousnesses or two minds, then he has two selfconsciousnesses. But I grant it in an attenuated sense, as I go on to show in the next paragraph.

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We can draw a distinction between a thing which is self-conscious, and that in virtue of which it is self-conscious. And likewise, we can draw a distinction between a self-consciousness understood as that in virtue of which a thing is self-conscious, and a self-consciousness understood as that which is selfconscious, or perhaps its state of being self-conscious. For instance, while I have a mind, I am not numerically identical with the mind (contra certain sorts of Cartesian dualism). Are there two self-conscious things here: the mind, and me? When I am conscious of my leg being asleep, are there two things conscious of that state, only one of which could possibly have a leg?6 We typically think not. And so we see, even in mundane cases, a division between that which is selfconscious (the person; the rational supposit) and the faculty or thing in virtue of which the person is self-conscious. In the incarnation case, there are two things through which or according to which that one person is conscious. Counting self-consciousnesses by faculties in virtue of which something is self-conscious, the number is two. Counting selfconsciousnesses by supposita that are conscious, we get one. If we understand being self-conscious as a system-level predicate—as a predicate apt of a whole supposit—then we can deny that there are two self-consciousnesses here, in the sense of two supposits. For, that’s precisely what the argument is supposed to show; it isn’t something we are supposed to assume in defending one of the premises of the argument. As a consequence, I think the proponent of Conciliar Christology should concede this premise and focus her attention on critiquing the instance of premise 11 discussed below. Richard Cross draws a similar distinction between the “I” of psychological experience and the “I” as the metaphysical subject of characteristics. He writes, that I think that any orthodox Christology would have to accept some form of this distinction, and that I shall assume that some form of this distinction - such that it would be true to state that the ultimate metaphysical subject of characteristics cannot be simply identiﬁed with the psychological centre of rational and sensitive experience—can make sense. (Cross 1989, 248)

Here we can take the “ultimate metaphysical subject of characteristics” to be the supposit, and the psychological centers as the centers of self-consciousness. Concerning the ﬁrst instance of 11, Loke (2013, 595) claims: the problem here is that “myself being consciously aware” occurs in SC1 and “myself being consciously unaware” occurs in SC2, and that these two self-consciousnesses are contradictory and therefore cannot exist in the same self simultaneously. To say that there are two contradictory self-consciousnesses simultaneously is to say there are two selves.

No one self can have two contradictory states. But “myself being consciously aware” and “myself being consciously unaware” are contradictory states, says Loke. Thus no self can have both simultaneously. Loke has shown that both states are had, given the two-minds view. Selves are taken as synonymous with persons, I take it. So if he has shown that there are two selves, Loke has shown that there are two persons, contrary to Conciliar Christology. 6

I assume here, without argument, that minds are essentially legless.

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I challenge the claim that SC1 and SC2 are contradictory. Whether they are contradictory depends upon the truth conditions of “consciously aware” and “consciously unaware.” Here I will apply the same response I used in Chapter 7 (Section II.d.) when discussing other allegedly contradictory pairs. We could read being consciously aware and consciously unaware in the following way. Initial Truth Conditions Consciously aware: Consciously unaware:

s is consciously aware of p just in case s has an occurrent mental state (of the right sort) of p. s is consciously unaware of p just in case it is not the case that s has an occurrent mental state (of the right sort) of p.

By “of the right sort” I mean to preclude mental states such as desire, or frustration. Let the mental states be of belief, or knowledge, or whatever other mental state the reader views to be appropriate. For my purposes here, the type of mental state is not important; what is important is the logic of the predicates. As we have seen previously in Chapter 7 (Section II.a.), given this variety of truth condition, one thing cannot both fulﬁll the truth conditions for being consciously aware and also for being consciously unaware at the same time. For either s has an occurrent mental state of the right sort of p or s does not. There are no other options (on the assumption of classical logic). These, though, are not the only type of truth conditions one could offer for a thing’s being consciously aware or consciously unaware. Revised Truth Conditions: Consciously aware: s is consciously aware of p just in case s has a nature that has an occurrent mental state (of the right sort) of p. Consciously unaware: s is consciously unaware of p just in case s has a nature that does not have an occurrent mental state (of the right sort) of p. Christ, given his two natures, and supposing that his human intellect was ignorant of the day of the ﬁnal coming, fulﬁlls the conditions for being both consciously aware and consciously unaware of the day of his coming. For his divine nature has an occurrent mental state of the right sort toward the proposition p, in this case, the day of my coming is D, and (per assumption) his human intellect does not have an occurrent mental state of the right sort toward that proposition.7 (If the attribution of a mental state to the divine nature raises worries concerning divine simplicity, the reader is free to substitute in whatever simplicity-friendly paraphrase she prefers for such claims.) One might wonder if these are fair truth conditions to provide at this point in the dialectic. They are. For here I am trying to show a move that the proponent of

7

I address this assumption at length elsewhere. See Pawl (2014c; 2014d).

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Conciliar Christology could make in order to deny the truth of Premise 11 of Loke’s argument. One such move is to understand the predicates in a way consonant with her overall theory, which is what I have done here. Moreover, this way of understanding the predicates is not ad hoc, insofar as it is the same way I have understood the other difﬁcult predicates in previous chapters. Is it a plausible way to understand the predicates? I think so. In fact, given the internal placement of the negation in these predicates, they are much more similar to the toy predicates I introduced in Chapter 7 (Section II.b.), “arm-bent” and “armunbent” than they are like the predicates “passible” and “impassible.” And the revised truth conditions were easier to grant for the toy predicates than they were for the candidate divine and human predicates. So the revised truth conditions should be similarly easy to grant here, in this case of internally negated predicates. As we saw, Loke reasons that since the two self-conscious states, SC1 and SC2, are inconsistent, they must belong to two different selves. Since I deny the inconsistency of the two states, I deny the motivation of the entailment to two selves as well. If merely having SC1 and SC2 are inconsistent, then it remains to be shown. As such, I deny that 11 has been established, and so do not grant the soundness of Loke’s ﬁrst argument. Consider now the second argument. The two premises to analyze are the instances of 10 and 11 relevant to this argument, which were: 10* If the two-consciousness model is true, then the consciousnesses could address each other in an I-thou relationship. 11* If the consciousnesses could address each other in an I-thou relationship, then Nestorianism is true.

Consider 10* ﬁrst. What is required for an “I-thou” relationship? If it requires personhood on the part of both the “I” and the “thou,” then the proponent of the view that Christ had two minds will deny 10*. For she will think that the antecedent is true, but since neither nature is identical to a person, she will claim that the consequent is false. Recall that in defending the truth of 10*, the proponent of this argument is not free to demand that I-thou relationships require personhood on the part of the relata, since that is to beg the question that there really are two persons there on the two-consciousness view. That is something to be demonstrated, not demanded in justiﬁcation for an earlier premise. Suppose we understand the “I” and “thou” here as not requiring personhood. So the “consciousness” here is not referring to the supposit. It is referring, rather, to the nature, or faculty by which the supposit as a whole is conscious. Those two faculties could be pointed at one another as the “thou” of their thoughts (or, better, the thoughts the supposit has due to the activities they perform). In that sense, I grant 10*. I deny 11*, though, when we understand 10* in this way. Loke does not deﬁne Nestorianism, though he says it afﬁrms that Jesus is two persons (2013, 595). The antecedent of 11*, however, does not imply that there are two hypostases of a rational nature in Christ. The antecedent of 11* is silent upon the number of hypostases in Christ. And so, on the understanding of “person” that I am employing here, 11* is false. What does Loke mean by “person?” It isn’t explicitly clear in this article, but here is something he says in response to an argument which gives us some understanding of the term:

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As for brain hemisphere commissurotomy, even if (and it is a very big ‘if ’) this results in two simultaneously conscious minds, based on the reasons given above (the simultaneous presence of two contradictory self-consciousnesses implies two selves, the possibility of I-thou relationship implies two persons) there are good grounds for agreeing with scholars who think that each discrete range of consciousness would be a person . . . (Loke 2013, 596)

Now, this text doesn’t quite come out and say that to be a person is to be a discrete range of consciousness. But the (original) italicization of the phrase would be gives the impression that to be a person just is to be a discrete range of consciousness. Elsewhere (2009, 53) he writes, following The Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy: Personhood is deﬁned as “the property of being a person,” which is “thought to involve various traits, including (moral) agency; reason or rationality; language, or the cognitive skills language may support (such as intentionality and selfconsciousness); and ability to enter into suitable relationship with other persons.”

And he follows the same deﬁnition in his later work (Loke 2014a, 104–5), too, saying: A person, therefore, is understood as a subject with various traits such as (moral) agency, reason or rationality, language or the cognitive skills language may support (such as intentionality and self-consciousness), and ability to enter into suitable relationship with other persons.

Since, on Conciliar Christology, the human nature of Christ, says “the Father is greater than I,” and grows in wisdom, the human nature fulﬁlls the deﬁnition of “person” that Loke is employing. But, as I noted in Section II.c., the conclusion that CHN counts as a “person” in this sense of the word is detrimental to Conciliar Christology only if we have reason to think that if CHN counts as a person in this sense, then it counts as a person in the sense used in the Conciliar texts. I see no reason to think that this is the relevant sense of the term in the theological texts. Moreover I see evidence in the conciliar texts, given in Section II.c. and in the following Section V, that the fathers took CHN both not to be a person, and to fulﬁll the conditions spelled out by Loke for personhood. So I don’t believe this to be the correct understanding of the term. To conclude my discussion of Loke’s second argument, I see no reason to grant 11* and I see good reason, given the Conciliar texts, to deny it.

V . T H E T H RE A T OF N E S T O R I A NI S M As we have seen in all three of the authors I have considered, the main source of difﬁculty with the conciliar doctrine is that people take it to imply Nestorianism. Each of the three thinkers I have discussed made this accusation. It is difﬁcult to ﬁnd a carefully worked out account of what these objectors take Nestorianism to be. As a ﬁrst pass, Nestorianism can be viewed as the claim that there are two persons in Christ, or that there are two Christs that are persons. One question here is what the deﬁnition of “person” is in these initial conditions for Nestorianism. Another question concerns what the necessary and sufﬁcient

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conditions are for being bound to claim that there are two persons. Is it sufﬁcient to deny the communication of idioms from the human nature to the divine person, as Nestorius did in the discussion of the term theotokos? Is it necessary to do so to be a Nestorian? John of Damascus has this to say of Nestorianism (1958, 138): The Nestorians hold that God the Word exists by Himself and separately, and that His humanity exists by itself. And the more humble of the Lord’s actions during His sojourn among us they attribute to His humanity alone, whereas the more noble and those beﬁtting the divinity they ascribe to God the Word alone. But they do not attribute the[m] both to the same Person.

Here Nestorianism appears to be the conjunction of the following claims: 14. God the Word and His humanity exist by themselves. 15. The ignoble attributes are said of His humanity alone. 16. The noble attributes are said of God the Word alone.

Notice that none of these three claims are true on the theory I am giving. The Word and his humanity exist together, insofar as the Word is a person who has assumed the humanity. And both the noble and the ignoble attributes are said of that one person, in fact, I have been at pains in this book to spell out how it could be that both the noble and ignoble predicates can be said of the same person at the same time. And so this view is not Nestorian, in the sense in which St John of Damascus understands the word. I have heard more than once in conversation that the Christology I put forward here has a “hint” of Nestorianism, or that it “ﬂirts” with Nestorianism, or that it does some sort of half-hearted dance with Nestorianism. The argument seems to go as follows. On the view I offer, the assumed concrete human nature is too robust. It has too many predicates apt of it; it is too ontologically meaty. On my view, that assumed human nature can aptly be said to hang on a cross. It can aptly be said to think, or will, or do things. But that is simply too much doing for a nature. Things that think, will, and do are persons, the objection continues. And so, since I claim that CHN thinks, wills, and does, I must think that it, too, is a person. But then there are two persons in my account of the incarnation, which is one too many. So my view, the objection concludes, entails Nestorianism. Since Nestorianism is false, so too, then, is my view. In response, I assert of CHN no more than the conciliar texts themselves do. For they say, as I noted in Chapter 2, Section II.b.2, in what I called the Leonine argument for concrete natures, that the human nature hangs on the cross, and the human nature was pierced (Tanner 1990, 80). And as Leo says in the same place, “it does not belong to the same nature to say I and the Father are one, and to say The Father is greater than I.” In addition, as I noted when discussing Gunton’s argument above, 3rd Constantinople claims clearly that the natures will, and that the wills are of the natures. So if claiming that a nature can will, or say, or hang, or be pierced is sufﬁcient to be a Nestorian, then St Leo the Great was a Nestorian, along with the fathers at Chalcedon who afﬁrmed that St Peter spoke through Leo, and all the fathers at all the later councils who reafﬁrmed the acceptance of the Tome. Moreover, there is good evidence for thinking that Cyril, too, took the natures to be able to be predicated by these terms. Christopher Bellitto (2002, 24) writes, presenting Cyril’s thought:

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Jesus’ human nature suffered because it is human and therefore capable of suffering; his divine nature did not suffer because it could not suffer.

And Relton (1917, 56) says that Cyril, assign[ed] to His human nature the hunger, the thirst, the suffering, the dying: in short all those creaturely vicissitudes so characteristic of a distinctively human, so seemingly derogatory to the distinctively Divine, experience.

Cyril, then, too, would be a Nestorian if merely claiming that these human predicates are apt of both the nature and the person is sufﬁcient for being a Nestorian. (Athanasius, likewise, applies similar predicates to the human nature, as Khaled Anatolios (2004, 70–2, 140) showcases.) There is nowhere further one could take the reductio here. If a view of what Nestorianism is entails that St Cyril himself was a Nestorian, well, what else stronger could be said against that interpretation of Nestorianism? Now, it might be said, as I have been told in conversation, that the conciliar texts were systematically and unfortunately speaking falsely about these matters. None of the fathers meant any of these claims literally. Yes, they all assert, over and over again, emphatically, that the nature suffered, or the nature hung, or the nature willed, or . . ., but, when all is said and done, they mean none of this. I ﬁnd this claim dubious. The Tome of Leo is a Conciliar document that says in no unclear terms that CHN thought, was pierced, and hung on a cross. At the Council of Chalcedon, the gathered fathers, all but a handful Easterners, many of whom had been present at the Council of Ephesus that exiled and anathematized Nestorius, examined the text carefully. They had a subcommittee look into it. They were suspicious of the Western encroachment in what they thought to be an Eastern ordeal. But they ended up accepting it as correct, going so far as to say that Peter spoke through Leo. And the later councils, just as dominated by Easterners, were just as adamant in accepting the Tome, with just as exuberant an assertion of its authority. In fact, the very passages I cite in favor of thinking such robust predicates apply to CHN were used as evidence for the dyothelite view at 3rd Constantinople. When they were read out, as E. H. Landon (1909a, 1:204) reports it, “Macarius of Antioch [the main monothelite at 3rd Constantinople] and those of his party had no solid answer to give.” Also, for whatever evidential weight the reader assigns it, the assembled church fathers at the Council of Trent continued applying robust predicates to the assumed human nature of Christ. They write (1982, 50–1): It cannot be a matter of doubt that His soul, as to its inferior part, was sensible to these torments; for as He really assumed human nature, it is a necessary consequence that He really, and in His soul, experienced a most acute sense of pain. Hence these words of the Saviour: My soul is sorrowful even unto death. Although human nature was united to the Divine Person, He felt the bitterness of His Passion as acutely as if no such union had existed, because in the one Person of Jesus Christ were preserved the properties of both natures, human and divine; and therefore what was passible and mortal remained passible and mortal; while what was impassible and immortal, that is, His Divine Nature, continued impassible and immortal.

CHN is passible and mortal: it is able to suffer, and able to die. These predicates are explicitly asserted of CHN, and the wording of the text, the claim of the

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preservation of the properties of both natures, is manifestly borrowed from the earlier councils. So here the fathers at Trent are relying on the purportedly problematic wording of those early councils to form their teaching about the predicates apt of CHN. The Lutherans similarly predicate robust predicates of the human nature in their Solid Declaration of the Formulation of Concord (VIII.10): On the other hand, to be a corporeal creature, to be ﬂesh and blood, to be ﬁnite and circumscribed, to suffer, to die, to ascend and descend, to move from one place to another, to suffer hunger, thirst, cold, heat, and the like, are properties of the human nature, which never become properties of the divine nature (“The Solid Declaration of the Formula of Concord—Book of Concord” 2015)

Here the Lutherans claim that the human nature has the properties of being hungry, moving, suffering, being ﬂesh and blood, etc. If the texts from the early councils were unfortunately and misleadingly speaking falsely of Christ in a Nestorian manner, the church fathers would not have accepted it, especially in their current theological milieu, where Nestorianism was more than a mere specter; the man himself still drew breath. So the claim that the councils were just systematically stating things in a way that unfortunately entailed a heresy many of the same men had adamantly denied twenty years previously seems to me to ignore the historical situation in which the fathers found themselves. To summarize my ﬁrst response to the charge of Nestorianism: 17. If my view of the predicates apt of CHN entails Nestorianism, then Conciliar Christology entails Nestorianism. 18. It is false that Conciliar Christology entails Nestorianism. 19. Thus, it is false that my view of the predicates apt of CHN entails Nestorianism.

The evidence for 17 comes from the texts cited a few paragraphs previously. I say of CHN what the fathers themselves say over the span of hundreds of years at multiple councils. Concerning 18, I know that it is contentious and that many groups did in fact view the conciliar texts as Nestorian. The Monophysites, for instance, were adamant about this. Nevertheless, the fathers did not see themselves as saying anything that entailed Nestorianism, and I agree that they did not. They subsequently at the councils condemned it anew, and they didn’t take themselves to be condemning themselves. Does the view that the predicates are apt of CHN subtly entail Nestorianism? If so, I leave it to the opponent of premise 18 to argue that they do. For if they obviously, straightforwardly entail it, then the fathers would have recognized this. And had they recognized it, they never would have obviously and straightforwardly both asserted and condemned Nestorianism. An autobiographical aside, as I near the conclusion of this chapter, this part, and this book: too often I hear allegations of a person’s view “hinting of Nestorianism” or “having the whiff of Nestorianism” or as being a “low-grade Nestorianism” or being “Nestorianism lite” or “Nestorianism-like.” It is not just Nestorianism that gets this treatment. There are also grades, degrees, hints, gestures toward, and faint odors of Docetism, Arianism, and all the rest as well. It seems to me that such hedging on the accusation of heresy is often coupled with

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a lack of concern for giving good evidence for the accusation—“I’m not saying it is full-ﬂedged, unapologetic heresy, after all! Just minor, triﬂing, low-calorie heresy, hardly worth the time of demonstrating, but deﬁnitely worth the time of stating, perhaps while raising my eyebrow conspiratorially.” From the perspective of a person ecclesiastically bound to afﬁrm the denial of these heresies—that is, Catholics, the Orthodox, and some confessional Protestants—such claims can be wounding. To understand the gravity of such an allegation, replace the word “Nestorianism” with “adultery” in the quotations, and ask yourself whether it would be permissible to accuse, without explicit justiﬁcation, a person’s actions of “hinting of adultery” or being “low-grade adultery” or “light adultery.” Just as the charge of adultery, even light or lowgrade adultery, is a charge that one has broken a serious and sacred obligation to another, the charge of heresy, even light or low-grade heresy, is—at least to the Catholic or Orthodox Christian—a charge that one has broken a serious and sacred obligation to Another. As such, hedging the claim does nothing to decrease the wound of the charge, and often serves to remove the accuser’s felt-need to justify the accusation. So my friendly suggestion: if you are going to charge someone as a heretic, then you ought to take the time to show it. And if you can’t show it, it is better not to say it at all. Two further suggestions, since I ﬁnd I’m still perched atop my soapbox. First, if you decide to make the charge, do it in charity. No need to din it into the ears of the opponent as the Church Fathers were sometimes wont to do (Tanner 1990, 162). Second, be prepared to answer questions of the following sort: “What, exactly, is the measure of heresy and orthodoxy?” If your answer amounts to the claim that the preponderance of men in tall hats at a particular gathering over a millennium ago said so, it would serve you well to have an answer to the question, “Why that gathering, and not the gatherings that other Christians point to?” If your answer amounts to the claim that the pages in this collection of disparate books written over many centuries and bound together at a much later date say so, one wouldn’t be wasting one’s time preparing an answer to the question, “Why that collection of texts, and not the collections that other Christians point to?”

VI. CONCLUSION In this chapter I have discussed objections to Conciliar Christology that focus on the number of things in Christ, be those things natures, wills, intellects, or persons. I have given the name of number troubles to this family of objections to Conciliar Christology. In particular, I have discussed arguments that attempt to show or could be used to show the truth of the unfriendly conditionals that I have labeled the Person-Nature Conditional the Person-Will Conditional, and the PersonMind Conditional. My conclusion is that, for each argument, either it is unsound, or it contains at least one premise whose truth is insufﬁciently motivated by the opponent of Conciliar Christology.

Conclusion In this book I have presented Conciliar Christology and supposed its truth for the sake of argument. I have not argued for the truth, probability, or even logical possibility of Conciliar Christology. As I noted in the Introduction, no such argument is needed to engage in logical analysis of the arguments against Conciliar Christology. I have presented, then asked the reader to assume for argument’s sake, Conciliar Christology. For the reader to then ask for justiﬁcation of the conjuncts of Conciliar Christology, or to respond to my analysis by asserting that Conciliar Christology is false, is to misunderstand the dialectic of the argumentation in this book. After presenting the teachings of Conciliar Christology in Chapter 1, I next, in the ﬁnal two chapters of Part 1, discussed the metaphysics, understanding of terminology, and necessary conditions required for understanding Conciliar Christology. I deﬁned the terms “person” and “nature” in a way I ﬁnd most consonant with the usage one ﬁnds in the conciliar texts. I used these deﬁnitions of terms, necessary conditions, and metaphysics in discussing the arguments against the truth of Conciliar Christology. I then, in Part II, assessed the Fundamental Problem against Conciliar Christology. I presented ﬁfteen potential replies to that argument in Chapters 4–7. As I presented the terms in Chapter Seven, the Candidate Pairs are not inconsistent with one another. And so it is false that nothing can be, say, mutable and immutable, or passible and impassible, etc. But then a premise of the Problem is false: a predicate and its complement are not true of the same thing at the same time in the same way, given Conciliar Christology. Since it has a false premise, the argument is unsound. I then, in the ﬁrst chapter of Part III, turned to arguments that an atemporal, immutable, and impassible being cannot become temporal, mutable, and passible. I considered four thinkers, and more than four arguments, for that conclusion. I found that they all presuppose a premise that is false, given the truth conditions of the Candidate Predicates that I presented in Chapter 7. They all suppose the incompatibility of being atemporal and temporal, or immutable and mutable, or impassible and passible. But such an incompatibility is false, as I understand the terms. I did note, though, that given the way they understand the terms, they may well have shown that on those truth conditions nothing can be both atemporal and temporal, or etc. I ﬁnally turned, in Chapter 9, the ﬁnal chapter of Part III, to multiple thinkers and arguments for number troubles in Conciliar Christology. Does the presence of two minds, or two wills, or two natures, entail the existence of two persons?

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I argue that none of the thinkers or arguments I discuss show that the answer is “Yes.” There are understandings of what a person is such that two wills immediately entail two persons. But that could not be the understanding of the conciliar fathers, for they explicitly taught two wills and one person. I conclude that if there is a sound philosophical argument for the thesis that Conciliar Christology is false or incoherent, I am not aware of it. There is still work to be done for Conciliar Christology. For no one believes just what the ﬁrst seven councils teach. There is need to discuss what we can call Extended Conciliar Christology, which is a larger conjunction that includes both Conciliar Christology, and also additional claims common in the theological tradition. I can think of at least ﬁve extensions of Conciliar Christology that deserve attention. Here I will limit myself to raising the worries and not formalizing the arguments. To formalize and address these arguments in a careful manner would be another book in itself. (I know, because I tried to do these things in this book as well and had to cut the chapters due to length constraints.) First, Christ is thought to be free in virtue of his human will by very many authors, though I do not know it to be taught in the ﬁrst seven councils. To give just one instance, a Lateran Council in 649, not ecumenical itself, though important as far as church history goes, includes the following teaching: Canon 10: “If anyone does not properly and truly confess according to the holy Fathers two wills of one and the same Christ our God, united uninterruptedly, divine and human, and on this account that through each of His natures the same one of His own free will is the operator of our salvation, let him be condemned”. (Denzinger 2002, para. 263, emphasis added)

Aquinas, too, thought that Christ’s human will was free (ST III q.18 a.4.). How do we reconcile such freedom with what we do ﬁnd in the ecumenical councils, which is the claim that the created will was subjugated to the divine will? In Third Constantinople we read: [W]e proclaim equally two natural volitions or wills in him and two natural principles of action which undergo no division, no change, no partition, no confusion, in accordance with the teaching of the holy fathers. And the two natural wills not in opposition, as the impious heretics said, far from it, but his human will following, and not resisting or struggling, rather in fact subject to his divine and all powerful will. For the will of the ﬂesh had to be moved, and yet to be subjected to the divine will, according to the most wise Athanasius. For just as his ﬂesh is said to be and is ﬂesh of the Word of God, so too the natural will of his ﬂesh is said to and does belong to the Word of God . . . For in the same way that his all holy and blameless animate ﬂesh was not destroyed in being made divine but remained in its own limit and category, so his human will as well was not destroyed by being made divine, but rather was preserved . . . ” (Tanner 1990, 128)

How can one will be subjugated to another (as this quotation has it) and yet be free (as the Extended Conciliar Christology in question has it)? Second, many think that Christ’s human intellect knew all things past, present, and future (for evidence of this claim, see the second section of Pawl (2014d)). Given that impressive foreknowledge, how could he enjoy robust freedom? If he knew all that would befall him, then how could he deliberate about what to do, seeing as it seems psychologically impossible to take as a deliberative option

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something one is certain will not happen. In addition, if he knew what would befall him prior to his willing what to do, a problematic explanatory circle opens. These two problems concerning Christ’s freedom and knowledge I have taken up in a pair of articles (Pawl 2014c; 2014d). Third comes a question about impeccability and temptation. Scripture and the councils tell us that Christ was tempted. We also know from the same sources that he was without sin. Many thinkers have claimed that he was not only without sin, but he was also unable to sin. But now there is a worry. For to be tempted, many hold, at least entails the possibility of falling into the temptation, that is, of sinning. And impeccability precludes that very same possibility. Nothing can be both possible and not possible, though. And so impeccability and temptation appear to be incompatible. An Extended Conciliar Christology, then, should give some answer to how something can be both unable to sin and able to be tempted.1 Fourth, if one extends the councils by adding on the Apostle’s or Athanasian Creed, one gets the claim that Christ descended into Hell between death and the resurrection. This, too, is a common claim in the tradition. But now consider how he was able to do that, and whether he was a man at the time, and whether he remained in the tomb. What was the relation of Christ to the component parts of that nature after its death? Was Christ still related to the nature, or merely to the component parts? These are questions that cry out for answers, given the truth of this particular extension of Conciliar Christology. Finally, there is a question of multiple incarnations. The ﬁrst seven councils are silent on whether multiple incarnations are possible. Many in the tradition, however, are not. Thomas Aquinas, in fact, believes that it is possible for each of the three Divine Persons to assume, simultaneously, the same concrete nature, and for each Divine Person to assume more than one concrete human nature at the same time!2 When one adds such a robust understanding of multiple incarnations as an extension to Conciliar Christology, does it lead to contradiction?3 I take all ﬁve of these extensions of Conciliar Christology to demand careful philosophical analysis, some of which I have already done in print. In the end, the logical work that C. J. F. Williams calls for in the quotation with which I began the Introduction is not yet done, but it has been continued.

1 A similar worry arises for the redeemed in heaven, who are unable to sin and yet still considered to be free. I, along with Kevin Timpe, have co-authored two articles on this issue (Pawl and Timpe 2009; 2013). 2 See my “Thomistic Multiple Incarnations” for more on this (Pawl 2014e). 3 For an examination of Brian Hebblethwaite’s arguments that multiple incarnations are impossible, see Pawl (2015a).

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Index abnormal psychology 217–19 accident 31–2, 34, 58–9, 61–4, 67–8 Adams, Marilyn McCord 31–3, 43, 76, 120, 122, 124, 126, 129 Alfeyev, Metropolitan Hilarion 25, 43, 181–2, 189, 196, 207–8 Anatolios, Khaled 90, 153, 229 Apollinarianism 43, 49, 215–16 Aquinas, Thomas 48, 61, 199–200, 233–4 on the communication of idioms 24–5 on divine immutability 107, 110, 187–8, 199–200 on divine timelessness 203, 206–9 on the Fundamental Problem 76, 144 on “personhood” and “nature” 30–3, 36, 38, 69–70 Arendzen, J. P. 14, 65, 76, 206, 217 Arianism 16, 43, 49, 90, 142, 185, 230 Armstrong, David Malet 54 assumption: contingency of 65–6, 68–71 see also Nature, concrete Astley, Jeff 14 atemporality 6, 13, 15, 16, 77, 174–5, 203–6 motivation for 99, 187–91 mixed and simple atemporality 194–8 Athanasius, 19, 90, 142, 153, 229, 233 Bäck, Allan T. 76, 120, 121, 122, 124, 129, 132 Baker, Kenneth 14, 212, 217 bare bone model, the 50–7 Barry, William 16 Bartel, T. W. 76, 124, 217 Barth, Karl 3 Basil of Caesarea 44, 67 Bavinck, Herman 16, 43, 63 Bellitto, Christopher 11, 12, 14, 228 Berkhof, Louis 11, 16, 44, 183 Billy Madison 4 Bittle, Celestine 36 Blount, Douglas 111, 201 body 18–22, 25–6, 28, 34–7, 48–52, 55–6, 65–7; see also soul Boethius 30, 33, 189 Bohn, Einar Duenger 121 Book of Concord, the 182, 183, 230 Boyle, John 14 Bronwen, Neil 12

Brower, Jeffrey 202 Brown, David 14 Calvin, John 43, 110 candidate pairs 79, 85–7, 98–105, 111–16, 120–1, 166 candidate predicates 62, 77–9, 85–7, 91–5, 97–105, 110–15 initial and revised truth conditions 154–5, 159, 169–70, 173–4, 190–1, 204, 225 see also candidate pairs Caplan, Ben 150 Carlson, John 32, 33 Castelo, Daniel 185, 192 Catholicism 1–2, 11, 31, 48, 53, 54, 181–2, 187, 189, 231 Chavasse, Antoine 186 cheerleader analogy 155–9 Chemnitz, Martin 15, 38, 40, 43, 45, 63, 183, 187 Christ’s human nature (CHN) 20, 38–9, 46–8, 57, 68–71, 206–9, 220–1, 227–31 Clarkson, John 14 classical theism 100, 174–5, 192, 202–3 Coakley, Sarah 45, 111–12 Coffey, Peter 36 communication of idioms 24–5, 40, 56, 63, 72, 135, 159, 228–9 complementarity 76–87, 155, 165–8 Craig, William Lane 44, 65, 76, 202, 218 Creel, Richard 154 Crisp, Oliver 11, 20, 34–7, 43, 48–9, 55–6, 63, 108, 110, 112–14 Cross, Richard 31, 33, 34, 43–5, 65, 67, 75–7, 82, 91, 92, 95, 98–100, 122, 124, 129, 143, 158, 180, 192–4, 224 Culpepper, Gary 186 Cupitt, Don 33, 76, 106, 216 Cyril of Alexandria 40–2, 228–9 Third Letter to Nestorius 12–13 Cyrillic argument, the 40–3 Dahms, John 85, 216 Daley, Brian 5, 22, 189, 237 Davidson, Ivor 217 Davis, Leo 14, 111–12, 153, 185, 188 Davis, Stephen 44, 76, 104–8, 114–15 Dawson, Samuel 76 defense 2–3 Demarest, Bruce 218

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Denzinger, Henry 12, 14, 22, 186 Deweese, Garrett 14, 36, 41–2, 69, 217–21 divine simplicity 53–4, 60–1, 78, 214, 225 Dodd, Julian 54 Dolezal, James 60 Dorner, Isaak 107 Drisler, Henry 188 Dubray, Charles 35–7, 68–70 Dunn, Geoffrey 111–12, 169–70, 186, 208 Dupuis, Jacques 14, 54, 77 Durrant, Michael 76 dyothelitism and monothelitism 20, 41–2, 48, 212–13, 217–21, 229 Ecumenical Councils: Basel, Council of (1431–1445) 42, 182, 186 Constance, Council of (1414–1418) 31 Constantinople, First Council of (381) 20 Constantinople, Second Council of (553) 12–13, 15, 19, 21, 24, 49, 89, 99, 101, 111, 188, 193, 196–7, 201 Constantinople, Third Council of (680–681) 15, 18–20, 22, 27, 42, 50, 62, 111, 119, 128, 137, 222, 228–9, 233 Constantinople, Fourth Council of (869–870) 26, 103, 153, 169 Chalcedon, Council of (451) 2, 11–14, 17–19, 22, 44–7, 50, 62, 77, 89, 111–14, 184–5, 228–9 Ephesus, Council of (431) 11–13, 15, 17, 19, 21, 23, 78, 108–13, 118, 127–8, 181, 184–5, 207, 229 Lateran, Fourth Council of (1215) 53, 182, 186, 189 Lateran, Fifth Council of (1512–1517) 48–9 Nicaea, First Council of (325) 16, 90 Nicaea, Second Council of (787) 20, 26, 103, 153, 169 Trent, Council of (1545–1563) 47, 88, 110, 124, 154, 186, 197, 229–30 Vatican, First Council of (1869–1870) 53, 182 Vienne, Council of (1311–1312) 49 Emery, Gilles 18, 185, 208 eucharist 31–2, 59, 88 Eutyches 215–16 Evans, C. Stephen 76, 104–5, 112, 114 exaltation of Christ 92, 104, 107, 114–16 Extended Conciliar Christology 233–4 Feenstra, Ronald 76, 115, 192 Ferrier, Francis 22, 33, 76, 217 Fiocco, M. Oreste 150 Flint, Thomas 20, 22, 26, 33–4, 48, 56, 65–7, 86

Forrest, Peter 105, 115 Forsyth, P. T. 217 Freaky Friday 52 Freddoso, Alfred 31–2, 36, 43, 48, 64, 65, 71, 86 freedom of Christ, the 48, 233–4 Frost, Gloria 61 Fundamental Problem the 77–80; see also responses to the Fundamental Problem Ganssle, Gregory 201 Gavrilyuk, Paul 109, 186 Geach, Peter 119 Geddes, Leonard 30, 32–3 Geisler, Norman 76 Gondreau, Paul 12, 63 Goodman, Nelson 135–6 Gorman, Michael 21, 33, 34, 76 Govier, Trudy 81 Graham, Alfred 14 Graumann, Thomas 12 Gregory of Nazianzus (Gregory the Theologian) 67, 189, 196, 207 Gregory of Nyssa 67, 81, 206 Grillmeier, Aloys 43 Grounds, Vernon 90–1 Gunton, Colin 192, 217, 221–2, 228 Hall, Francis Joseph 76, 107, 112, 114 Hanson, A. T. 217 Hanson, R. P. C. 16 Hardy, Edward 12 Haslanger, Sally 150, 202 Hebblethwaite, Brian 76, 234 Helm, Paul 16 Henriksen, Jan-Olav 218 Herbert, Robert 119 Hick, John 33, 76, 88 Hill, Jonathan 6, 22, 46, 76, 115, 194–8 Hipp, Stephen 43–4, 67–70, 128 Hoffman, Joshua 86 Holland, Richard 6, 11, 14, 16, 46, 76–7, 119–21, 198–200, 218 Hudson, Hud 111 Hylomorphism 37, 48–51, 58–63, 71, 158 hypostasis (supposit, suppositum) 16, 20, 30–4, 36, 42–6, 56–8, 65–71, 213, 215, 224–6 hypostatic union 20–2, 26, 40, 42, 44–5, 49–50, 54–7, 62–6, 89–90, 158, 205–9 Ignatius of Antioch 103, 189 immutability 5–6, 16–18, 28, 90–1, 99, 104–10, 173–5, 179–84, 192–4, 199–200, 202–4, 209

Index impassibility 16–18, 62–3, 76, 79, 97, 103, 152–6, 159–70, 179–80, 184–7, 190, 192–4, 204–5 impeccability 56, 57, 76, 234 Incompatible Predications 28, 78–80, 83–5, 91–3, 97–103, 112–13, 117, 144, 152–3, 160, 166, 168 ineffability 20–1, 28, 49–50, 89, 182, 209 inﬁma species 36–7, 134, 214 intellect 15, 18–20, 33, 36, 41–2, 48–9, 212–15, 225, 233–4 interim state of Christ between death and resurrection 234 Jacobs, Jonathan 21 Jedin, Hubert 14 Jedwab, Joseph 218 Jenson, Robert 128, 143, 166–7, 218 John Duns Scotus 36, 69–70, 132, 143, 158 John of Antioch 12, 15, 17, 23–4, 44, 109, 179, 181 John of Damascus 31, 43–5, 95, 100, 215–16, 228 Jurgens, William 14 Justinian, Emperor 13, 15, 33, 41–4, 47, 170, 207 Kelly, Charles 76, 166 Kelly, Joseph 11, 12, 14 Kenotic Christology 104–16, 184, 216 Kereszty, Roch 14, 22, 216 Kidd, B. J. 14 knowledge of Christ, the 48, 233–4 Knox, John 76 König, Adrio 192 Lamberz, Erich 26 Lamont, John 11, 14 Lampe, Geoffrey William Hugo 188 Landon, Edward 13, 14, 229 Lash, Nicholas 5 Lateran Council (649) 233 law of non-contradiction 84–5, 94, 119, 217 Leftow, Brian 46, 56, 60, 64–5, 76, 86, 195 Leibniz’s Law 201 Leith, John 14, 183 Leo the Great, (pope): The Tome of Leo 12–13, 25, 39–42, 111–12, 169–70, 228–9 Leonine argument, the 40–2, 228 Leontius of Byzantium 43 Lewis, David 54, 150, 202 Lewis, Gordon 218 Liddell, Henry George 188 Lister, Rob 154 Loades, Ann 14 Locke, John 33, 52

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Loke, Andrew 76, 217, 222–7 Lowe, E. J. 120, 121, 150 Luther, Martin 43, 85, 182, 184, 187, 230 Maas, Anthony 63 Mackintosh, Hugh Ross 217 Marmodoro, Anna 22, 46 Mary, mother of God (Theotokos) 14, 15, 19, 27, 40, 42, 43, 119, 171, 188, 195, 197, 209 Mavrodes, George 86 McIntyre, John 3–4, 44, 218 merely versus fully human 95, 100–1 mereological models of the incarnation 56, 64–5 Merricks, Trenton 55, 59, 202 mixed relations 205–9 modal attributes 6, 98–9, 179–80, 192–204 Moltmann, Jürgen 192 Monothelitism, see dyothelitism and monothelitism Moreland, J. P. 44, 76, 218 Morris, Edward Dafydd 182 Morris, Thomas 5, 76–7, 92, 95, 100–1, 105, 106, 119–21, 122, 218 Moulder, James 76 multiple incarnations 71, 133–5, 142, 146, 234 mystery 22, 53, 88–91, 94, 181, 184, 196 nature 34–46, 65–7 abstract 35, 44–6 concrete 36, 39–44 divine 16–18 human 18–20 scholastic distinction between abstract and concrete 38 see also hypostatic union Need, Stephen 15 Nestorianism 12–13, 39, 126–8, 215–31; see also Nestorius Nestorius 12, 13, 17, 19, 22, 23, 26, 27, 39, 78, 89, 118, 126, 128, 141, 181, 184, 213–31 No Complementary Predications 79–84, 87, 94–6, 122, 125, 127, 160 No Contrary Predications 82–4 number troubles 210–31 O’Collins, Gerald 14, 22, 44, 77, 113, 218 O’Keefe, John 179 omnipotence 60, 76, 78, 86–8, 95, 100, 105–6, 110–13, 183 omnipresence 17, 76–7, 91–2, 97–8, 106, 110–13, 130, 132, 173–4, 183 Orthodoxy 1–2, 11, 15, 43, 107, 182, 185, 189, 208, 231 Ott, Ludwig 54, 159, 189

250

Index

Pannenberg, Wolfhart 76, 218 Pearce, Kenneth 86 Pelikan, Jaroslav 185 person 14–16, 30–4, 46–7, 65–70 Person-Mind Conditional, the 212–13 Person-Nature Conditional, the 210–13 Person-Will Conditional, the 212–13 Plantinga, Alvin 36, 37, 45, 87 Plantinga, Cornelius 218 platonic realism 35, 37–8, 40, 44–6, 52, 77, 143, 157, 174 Pohle, Joseph 14, 15, 22, 24–5, 32–3, 43, 46, 56, 63, 189, 207 Pollard, T. E. 76, 179, 186, 192, 218 Predication Disjunction, the 126–9 predications: accidental 61 essential 60–1, 70–1 Price, Richard 13, 14 Priest, Graham 84 problematic pairs 79, 91, 95 problematic predicate, a 79, 91 proper versus improper having of natures 172–3 property-role fulﬁllers 52–5, 57, 60, 64 Pruss, Alexander 86 Purdy, Vernon 179 qua modiﬁcation 117–21 (A) method 121–3 (S) method 124–9 (P) method 129–43 (C) method 143–50 Rahner, Karl 208 Rebenich, Stefan 30 Relton, Herbert 11–12, 192, 215–16, 229 responses to the Fundamental Problem 94 appealing to mystery 88–91 denying Conciliar Christology 80 denying no complementary predications 80–4 denying that candidate predicates have complements 85–8 denying the divine candidate predicates are apt of Christ 98–100 denying the human candidate predicates are apt of Christ 100–1 denying the incompatibility of the predicates 159–60, 165–7, 175 denying the law of non-contradiction 84–5 denying the predicates “at the same time” 104–15 hybrid responses 95, 98, 102 modifying the assertion (A) 121–3 modifying the copula (C) 143–50

modifying the predicate (P) 129–43 modifying the subject (S) 124–9 Rettler, Bradley 121, 150 Richards, Jay 107 Riedinger, Rudolf 26 Rogers, Katherin 43 Rosen, Gideon 54 Rosenkrantz, Gary 86 Russell, Norman 12 Salas, Victor 69 Sarot, Marcel 154 Schaff, Philip 14, 25, 45, 181–3, 187 Schmaus, Michael 14 Scott, Robert 188 secundum quid ad simpliciter inference 121–3, 131, 133–4, 150 self-emptying 17–18, 105–6, 110–11, 114–16 Senor, Thomas 22, 26, 44, 46, 64–5, 76, 79, 92, 95, 104, 105, 112–13, 120, 122, 124, 129, 132–3, 136, 138, 142, 145–6, 148, 187, 200–4 Silcock, Jeffrey 185 Smith, Mark 186 Sobrino, Jon 14 soul 18–22, 25–6, 34–7, 43–5, 48–53, 58–8; see also body Spade, Paul Vincent 50 Spence, Alan 43, 76 Stevenson, James 14 Strawson, P. F. 109 Strong, Augustus Hopkins 44, 218 Stump, Eleonore 43, 60, 64–5, 76 Sturch, Richard 4, 33, 46, 76, 90, 105, 115, 124, 192, 218 subalternation 166 subcontrariety 165–7 Subject Dilemma, the 126–9 supposit or suppositum, see hypostasis Swinburne, Richard 20, 86, 87, 92, 107, 119, 219–20 Tanner, Norman 14, 30 temporary intrinsics 93, 117, 120, 150 temptation 234 Thomas Aquinas, see Aquinas, Thomas Thompson, Thomas 104, 218 three-part Christology 55 Timpe, Kevin 72, 234 Toledo, Council of (400) 186 Toner, Patrick 208 Torrance, Thomas F. 142 transubstantiation 31–2, 59, 88 trimming predicates 98–100 trinity 5–6, 13–15, 23–4, 27, 31, 46, 197 trope 37, 52, 77 truthmaker necessitation 59, 70

Index truthmaking 59–64, 68–71, 122, 169, 206 Turretin, Francis 43 Typical Dependence 23, 55, 62–5 unfriendly conditionals 210–17 Vallicella, William 76 Van Driel, Edwin Chr. 22, 39 van Inwagen, Peter 29, 76, 92, 111–12, 119–21 Vincent of Lerins 103 Wace, Henry 196, 207 Ware, Bruce 76 Washburn, Christian 11 Watkins, William 76 Weinandy, Thomas 12, 22, 69, 105, 206 Wesche, Kenneth 13, 15, 33, 41–2, 44, 47, 170, 207

West, Jason L. A. 208 Weston, Frank 76, 88 Whitby, Mary 13, 14 Wierenga, Edward 86 Wilhelm, Joseph 14, 153 will 20, 48, 212–14, 218–21, 233–4 William of Ockham 31–2, 36, 57 Williams, C. J. F. 1, 33, 43, 234 Williams, Robert 107 Williams, Rowan 16 Willis, Edward 110 Willis, John Randolph 14, 103, 189 Wolfson, Harry Austryn 14 Woodruff, David 201 Young, Frances 192 Zwingli, Ulrich 43

251