Your God Is Too Big

American Academy of Religion

Your God Is Too BigAuthor(s): O. Thompson RhodesSource: Journal of the American Academy of Religion, Vol. 35, No. 1 (Mar., 1967), pp. 42-49Published by: Oxford University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1461045 .

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Your God is Too Big

O. THOMPSON RHODES

HERE are fads in religion just as in dress. Before the time of the classical prophets, God was to be accepted on the basis of the vic- tories he sent to his people. After the prophets, the same God was

to be accepted because of the extraordinary number of defeats he sent their way. Before the era of liberal theology, apologists for Christianity assumed that miracles supported the faith. After the liberal impact, apologists felt that faith supported the miracles. So fashions change. Yesterday, God's "power" probably seemed the best guarantee that the Christ-event had to

apply to all men; tomorrow one may come to accept the universal relevancy of this same Christ-event on the basis of God's weakness.

At first glance, Anselm's Cur Deus Homo? would appear to be the least likely support for the last-mentioned view. Yet it too is based on certain

assumptions concerning God's "weakness." If one's view of this weakness could be shifted ever so slightly, the argument might do for today as well.

For reasons to be discussed shortly, the Cur Deus Homo? argument as it stands is not acceptable to the modern mind (any more than, for that matter, it was acceptable to the medieval mind). The situation here is analogous to that of Anselm's famous ontological argument, whose cogency has been questioned since the time of Thomas Aquinas. Yet today an attempted re- habilitation is under way, led by Charles Hartshorne, who argues that the commonly rejected form of the ontological argument is but one version present in the Proslogium, and that the second version found there has real possibilities. Hartshorne maintains that with some redefinition of terms (including "omnipotence" itself), this latter version of the ontological argument is completely sound. If the Proslogium may be revived, why not Cur Deus Homo? Anselm had demythologized the redemption myth for his own time; may not additional work make it serviceable for today as well?'

The Christian church has always supposed that the death of Christ affected the divine economy in a vital way, without reaching dogmatic

O. THOMPSON RHODES (B.S., University of Cincinnati; B.D., Ph.D., Drew University) is Assistant Professor and Chairman of the Department of Religion at Lycoming College, Williamsport, Pennsylvania. His article, "The 'Lovable' and 'Hateful' Self in Pascal's Pensees," appeared in The Journal of Religion for Winter, 1965-66.

1 "It is of course true that demythologizing takes the modern world view as a criterion" (Rudolf Bultmann, Jesus Christ and Mythology, New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1958, p. 35).

42



YOUR GOD IS TOO BIG 43

certainty respecting the "how" of this. The Alexandrian Fathers suggested that a proper function of the Christ - among other things - was to dispel the ignorance that kept man from knowing himself and God. For Gregory the Great, Christ became the "bait" whereby man was ransomed back from the devil. When Anselm came to put his hand to the problem, he rejected the "ransom" theory, substituting a demythologized version of it, to be known thereafter as the "satisfaction" theory.

Anselm in Cur Deus Homo? announced his intention as twofold. This is shown in his preface. After noting that the argument is divided into two books, he continues:

The first contains the objections of infidels, who despise the Christian faith because they deem it contrary to reason; and also the reply of believers; and, in fine, leaving Christ out of view (as if nothing had ever been known of him), it proves, by absolute reasons, the

impossibility that any man should be saved without him. Again, in the second book, likewise, as if nothing were known of Christ, it is moreover shown by plain reasoning and fact that human nature was ordained for this purpose, viz., that every man should enjoy a

happy immortality, both in body and in soul; and that it was necessary that this design for which man was made should be fulfilled; but that it could not be fulfilled unless God became man, and unless all things were to take place which we hold with regard to Christ... ."

The argument, it should be noted, was to be as valid for the non-believer as for the Christian.

Cur Deus Homo? might be summarized as follows: When God's creation turned away from him, his alternatives were either to let it continue toward annihilation or to put forth efforts to save it. With the cosmos just off the

drawing-board, so to speak, the former course seemed unfitting. God might restore his creation in one of two ways: by an act of will or by a transaction that would right the wrong. The former proved impossible, since man had robbed God of his honor. To overlook the crime or forgive the offender would put the universe out of joint. The remaining alternative had to be taken, and here too there were different possibilities. Either man would have to pay the debt himself or God would have to assist in some way. Since man already owed everything to God - and so had nothing left over for

payment - only the latter course was open. Book I comes to a close here, having made its negative point: Unless salvation comes from the beyond, man will not be saved at all. Book II demonstrates what God must do to repair the damage (which must be repaired, since man was made for happiness). God may not merely pay the debt to himself; after all, it is man who owes it. Necessity itself defines the solution. If satisfaction is due, "which none but God can make and none but man ought to make, it is necessary for the God-man to make it."3 This God-man owes the Father a life of perfect obedience, but when he freely goes to his death, God ends up owing

2 Anselm, Proslogium; Monologium, An Appendix in Behalf of the Fool by Gaunilon; and Cur Deus Homo, trans. Sidney Norton Deane, La Salle, Illinois: Open Court, 1954, Preface (italics mine).

* Ibid., Cur Deus Homo, II, 6.



44 0. THOMPSON RHODES

him. This debt must be paid, but Christ does not need it. Cosmic chaos is avoided when the Son suggests that it be applied toward the debts of humble sinners.

To his evident satisfaction Anselm "proves" not only that man needs the Christ, but that God needs him too. But if Anselm succeeds in demonstrat-

ing the universal relevance of the Christ, it is at the price of God's omni-

potence, as such omnipotence has been classically conceived. The connection becomes clear when points one and two are seen together.

The first point proves that no merely human act can save the creation, i. e., it shows that something like the Christ-event was necessary. Certainly a demonstration that man cannot raise himself by his bootstraps does not of itself deny the omnipotence of God. But in the second point (Book II), Anselm approaches the problem again, from "God's side," as it were, to find that even God must use the Christ. It is only here that the classical idea of omnipotence fails. However, the second point fills the void created by the first point, and thus completes the first. One must conclude, therefore, that if the universal relevancy of the Christ is to be demonstrated, God must be denied his omnipotence in the classical sense.

A MODERNIZED VERSION OF Cur Deus Homo?

For Cur Deus Homo? to do service today, Anselm's analysis of "necessity" must be challenged. Two of its aspects will be analyzed: (a) necessity considered as a norm or eternal law which God himself must obey; (b) the

necessity for even God to accept the existentiality, the facticity, of the factual. Even the deity cannot move the clock backwards; he must "accept" whatever time brings forth.

(a) That Anselm should put God under this kind of necessity is most

striking to the modern reader. Even God must follow justice, the cosmic honor code. From Anselm's point of view it would be incorrect to assert that God obeys a norm "external" to himself. For God does not merely obey justice; he is "Justice Itself." Yet the result seems similar. God is bound by the demands of justice, as Anselm interprets justice. From our

vantage point these demands - because of their cold-blooded rigidities -

appear to be external rather than internal to God. For Anselm, it would be

unjust for God to remit debts without demanding a penalty; therefore, sins cannot be simply forgiven. From Anselm's point of view, God must lack this kind of omnipotence. Were this not the case, the whole Anselmian demonstration of the necessity of the Christ for man as well as for God would crash to the ground. Yet it is precisely this "bind" on God which makes Cur Deus Homo? so unpalatable today. A different kind of "bind" is

suggested below, one that is needed for a modern version of Cur Deus Homo?. (b) Insofar as post-Christian man will tolerate theological assertions of

any type, he will certainly not quarrel with the Anselmian assumption that time is irreversible for God. Man has fallen from his Adamic state, and




that is that. The quarrel today would be over what, precisely, God has

"accepted." The Anselmian deity has accepted the following: There are certain creatures that owe God everything, have reneged on their payments, and now need outside funds to refinance themselves. In Cur Deus Homo?, at least, we are living ledgers and little else. Anthropology is substantialist rather than dynamic or existentialist. There is much talk of God's integrity, very little about man's. Yet today, man's integrity, his inviolate wholeness, must also be considered part of the "given" that even God must accept, "take into account," in any plan of salvation.

In short, the contemporary reinterpretation of Anselm will play down the "justice" of (a) and emphasize the complexities of (b). God himself must accept the fact that any "solution" must be "acceptable" to man. That is, the solution must conform to his nature; it must be a genuine "way," a

way in which man can walk. Hence, Anselm's original intention will be

preserved: There are certain structures of reality that even the deity cannot flout, and to this extent he lacks omnipotence, at least in the classical sense. These structures so limit the divine elbowroom that Christ is the only way out. Our only quarrel with Anselm is over the precise nature of these structures. The view taken here is that God is not so much limited by a cosmic honor code, as by human nature and the human predicament.

The shape a contemporary version of Cur Deus Homo? will take may be indicated. Anselm wishes to show that man must be saved through the Christ, and to show this without reference to "revelation." He does not base his case upon some cosmic fiat, which by definition makes Christ the way, but rather upon what every man can know. Every man knows that he, man, was made for happiness, but that he has fallen and needs redemption. Inexorably, he is led to the only way in which his good may be restored to him. One may know this because he knows the basic structures of reality - including human reality - and knows too that this lost good must be restored on terms that do not violate these structures. In this sense, God's omnipotence has been sacrificed. "There is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved," according to Peter in the Book of Acts (4:12). The argument has brought us back to that point.

Some of the concepts used in this modernized version of Anselm are analyzed below. The "Christ-event," the meaning of its "universal relevancy," and the relation of this "only" way of salvation to other faith-claims are discussed in the following section. In the final section the "omnipotence" of God is considered.

NONE OTHER NAME GIVEN

The claim that the Christ-event is universally relevant may be understood in several ways. For example, one could mean that of all possible ways of salvation, God decided that he would redeem those who believed in his Son. He happened to choose this way, yet he could well have decided to




save humanity by dropping a black rock to earth, redeeming all those who would confess it to be green. This latter choice could be identified as an

example of a "heteronomous" method, since the solution would have no relevance to man's own "law." Obviously, Cur Deus Homo? does not take this way out.

A second way of understanding the universal relevance of the Christ- event might be described as "theonomous," since here the solution would be so fashioned as to "fit" the situation in which man finds himself as a creature of God. In terms of the modernized Cur Deus Homo?, the Christ-event would be understood as universally relevant in the sense that the Christ becomes a symbol of any soteriological experience. It is not necessary that Jesus be "accepted" as the Christ; it is not even necessary that one know his name. This is surely the point of the Parable of the Last Judgment as well as of portions of the Epistle to the Romans (cf. Matt. 25:31-46; Rom. 1:18-23; 2:12-16). Here is a clue to the relation of the Christ-event to all religions -

including Christianity. There is indeed "none other name given," but it may be operating through the "hidden Christ" affirmed by Reinhold Niebuhr.4

If the symbol "Christ-event" is to be explained, this must be done in terms of other symbols, which relate it to Christianity and also to other religions. All told, three possible sets of symbols might be used for this purpose:

1. The message of the Synoptic Jesus ("Kingdom of God," "repentence," "faith"). 2. Other classical Christian terminology ("Son of God," "Incarnation," "Atonement"). 3. Any other religious or secular ideology, insofar as it is soteriological.

The interpretation given here proceeds from the first of these alternatives. Mark 1:15 gives a one-sentence summary of Jesus' preaching: "The time

is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent, and believe in the gospel." The veil is being lifted on a strange kingdom indeed: a domain with a king but no subjects, though its absentee members were meant from the beginning to be in it. They are invited to enter by accepting its requirements. These requirements are fulfilled by grasping the Old Covenant in its ever-present newness: "Behold, the days are coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new Covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah.... I will put my law within them, and I will write it upon their hearts, and I will be their God and they shall be my people. And no longer shall each man teach his neighbor and each his brother, saying, 'Know the Lord' . . ." (Jer. 31:31-34). "This is the blood of the covenant.. ." (Mark 14:24).

This description of Jesus' message ignores two of its obviously mytholo- gical features: the twin claims that the kingdom was arriving with him, and its imminent consummation. Since these elements so vividly portray the divine pressure bearing down on man, they are to be, not dissolved, but "broken" (Tillich).

4 Reinhold Niebuhr, The Nature and Destiny of Man: A Christian Interpretation, London: Nisbet & Co., 1943, Vol. II, p. 113.




Entrance into this kingdom involves a perplexing combination of the severest demands, coupled with Jesus' insistence on its gift-like character. In typically Jewish fashion Jesus does not attempt to relate the demand to the gift; he merely assumes the necessity of both. Nevertheless, it may be possible to specify certain ways in which grace enters the equation. The three ways to be mentioned all intensify rather than ameliorate the divine pressure.

First, in Jesus' own activities, man's closed circle of days is laid open to the eternal; the kingdom appears as though for the first time. Before the

eyes of those who behold him the years of Israel's rebellion fall away; his audiences find themselves in that primeval morning "when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy" (Job 38:7). God again walks in the garden, but this time not in rebuke.

Second, as the Parable of the Talents makes clear, the very resources out of which one responds are a gift of the Creator.

The third working of grace is related most dialectically to the demanded

response. For on the one hand, man must know that he is to be ready to do what love may require - "ready" in the sense that his stance allows him to obey, "do" in that more than the correct motive is required. If these are the demands, the gate of which Jesus spoke is not merely narrow, but closed. Therefore, on the other hand, the divine power must be relied on to break into the human situation, supplying forgiveness and acceptance. The breaking- in occurs at no particular point; it may not be calculated - yet without this grace man would be lost.

Put otherwise, the dialectic of grace and demand makes man responsible for his own response, yet that response itself must be viewed within the matrix of the grace that anticipates, surrounds, and undergirds it. No orthodox "faith in Christ" is asked for; instead, Jesus demands that his word be obeyed. Yet - and this is what distinguishes him from previous prophets - his

person and his word would not be separated. As a "walking parable" of God's grace and demand, his pre-eminence in the economy of salvation was

probably pre-ordained. For the man who is not a Christian, there is no reason why this grace

and demand must be packaged in Christian symbolism. The test of a religious system ought to lie in its functioning. In formal terms, a system is valid if

through it a man really achieves his beatitude. The practical problem of

making such a judgment is probably insurmountable, but then so has been the problem of identifying the "elect" in Christendom. This universality of the Christ-event is alluded to in the Prologue to John, but does not reach classical expression until Justin Martyr: "For each, through his share in the divine generative Logos, spoke well .... Thus, whatever has been spoken aright by any man belongs to us Christians; for we worship and love, next to God, the Logos which is from the unbegotten and ineffable God....",

6 Henry Bettenson, ed., The Early Christian Fathers: A Selection from the Writings of the Fathers from St. Clement of Rome to St. Athanasius, London: Oxford University Press, 1956, p. 88.




THE POWERLESS GOD

The modernized form of Cur Deus Homo? assumes a God who is at least as biblical as the God of Christian orthodoxy. Until the Bible came to be read through Greek spectacles, it was unlikely that the "perfections" of Yahweh would be seen so clearly. Will any unbiased reading of the Old Testament yield an omnipotent God? The answer depends on whose deity one is considering. From all indications Moses' God certainly is not omni-

potent. His deity is just powerful enough to overcome the Egyptian com-

petition. Admittedly, however, our sources for Moses' views are meager. The Yahwist provides more material on which to make a judgment. For him, God seems unable to predict man's next move, to say nothing of con-

trolling it. The apple incident and Noah's degeneracy obviously catch God by surprise and even thwart the divine intention. In the long run - one is made to believe - Yahweh will prevail, but in the short run his ingenuity is sorely taxed. The Priestly Code, some four centuries later, offers God wearing a still different mask. There is no hint here of a zigzag course through which God adapts himself to human waywardness. Man no longer wrestles with God; he merely receives. From the Priestly Code onward, something akin to an omnipotent God is dominant in the Old Testament. This view, in combination with Greek theistic speculation, was to become the controlling one in the consciousness of Western man.

However, was not the divine omnipotence put under question with the inception of Christianity itself? From the beginning, Christ was believed to have "revealed" God. And if Christ were godlike, the reverse might also hold: God might be Christlike. This semi-identity of God and Christ was no problem to orthodoxy as long as the earthly career of Jesus was read by the twin lights of literal inspiration and the Council of Chalcedon. What could be more "natural" than to attribute Christ's needs and weakness to the humanity, and his supernatural feats to the divinity?

With these two lights extinguished, how do matters stand? Before the all-too-human Jesus of modern criticism, is the claim that God is Christlike to be quietly dropped, or is it still to be taken seriously despite the new situation? The Jesus known to the twentieth century is a man so helpless that he can only end up on a cross, and for views he never held. If God can still be considered Christlike, some new definitions are in order.

The problem of the deity's omnipotence may be clarified by an analysis of the word "omnipotence" itself. As Charles Hartshorne notes, it is nonsense to claim that omnipotence means all the power there is: "... to have perfect power over all individuals is not to have all in such fashion as to leave the other individuals none. For to be individuals and to have some power are two aspects of the same thing." "That God cannot 'make us do' certain things does not 'limit' his power, for there is no such thing as power




to make nonsense true, and 'power over us' would not be power over us if our natures and actions counted for nothing."6

One may distinguish three levels of meaning in the word "power." The power of Joe Louis, vis-a-vis other boxers, was such as to get them to re- cline, inclined to or not. This is the first level. Adolf Hitler was a "powerful" speaker. His audiences were made to feel as he felt, to think as he thought, and finally to do what he wished them to do. No physical coercion was involved. But what of psychic coercion? If the latter be defined as getting a man to do what he does not want to do, Hitler was undoubtedly capable of it. Instead of appealing to persons as persons, he appealed to their anger, fear, and frustrations. This is the second level. Neither the Louis method nor the Hitler method seems appropriate as a model for the divine omnipotence. The third level remains. President Lincoln wielded a kind of verbal "power" over large numbers of Northerners. He appears to have had the ability to enlist the support of others while violating neither their physical nor their psychic integrity. That his arguments obviously did not convert everyone north of the Mason-Dixon Line does not necessarily disprove the assertion that Lincoln indeed possessed vast power over his constituency. To use Hartshorne's language (quoted above), Lincoln could have had "perfect power over all individuals" and at the same time not have converted them all, since "to be individuals and to have some power are two aspects of the same thing."

It is this third level that is proposed as adequate to God. That he "cannot make us do certain things" only proves that the power he does exercise is power over human beings and not blocks of wood. That is to say, God is omnipotent, if one restricts himself to Hartshorne's definition. This kind of omnipotence may be predicated of God in the modernized Cur Deus Homo?. This kind of omnipotent God needs the Christ-event as much as man does.

With this revised understanding of terminology, the Anselmian argument might still have relevancy for our time - but no longer as a "proof." From the assumption that God is not omnipotent in the classical sense, one could conceivably conclude, for instance, that the deity has not the slightest relevancy to the human condition. The modernized Cur Deus Homo? would be a dramatic way of saying that the universality of the Christ-event depends not so much on a cosmic fiat as on the necessities of the human situation itself.

6 Charles Hartshorne, Man's Vision of God and the Logic of Theism, Chicago: Willett, Clark & Company, 1941, pp. 14, 294.



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Your God Is Too Big