If God is the Absolute Relative, does this make man the relative absolute? Maybe -- especially post-Incarnation -- but even the world isn't the relative relative, because that would reduce to the absolute nihilism of the left, AKA the tyranny of relativism. Creation is only possible because
The Creator is internally related, a speaking communion capable of internal address, a God who says "us" (Leithart).
Emphasis mine: "This internal relationship is the condition of possibility for creation."
I've been saying this for twenty years, so it is a relief to find someone else saying it so clearly.
Insofar as the principle of creation is concerned, it is grounded in the God who "is always already related to what is other than himself."
Granted, I believe we can take this doctrine too far and make the Creator dependent upon the creation. This is what Whitehead, Hartshorne, and other process philosophers do: too much (→) contaminating the (O↘), ultimately reducing to pantheism. Ask a process philosopher if God exists and the answer is Yes, but not yet.
Oops. Next sentence: "Creator and creation are joined in mutual relation, a relation we must finally describe as mutually dependent." Given that the first principle is (in Norris Clarke's formulation and now mine) substance-in-relation, it is not a wholly unreasonable assertion. So how do we tweak it, and what do we put in its place?
More problematically, are we defying our own statement from yesterday about the principle of noncontradiction? Bob wondered to himself.
We will put that in the cosmic hopper and hope for an answer by the end of the post.
Leithart qualifies the mutual dependence, calling it "radically asymmetrical," being that "Creation need not have existed." However, once creation exists, God -- it would seem -- places himself in a position of "dependence." He is related to his cosmos. He cares about it.
Analogously, I didn't have to create a dependent. But once I did... Am I dependent on my dependent? Yes, very much so, but again, not only is there asymmetry, but as any parent can tell you, I'll bet I care about him more than he cares about me.
Not to say that he doesn't care, but back when he was a little guy, we would tell him that he won't know how much we love him until he has a little guy of his own.
Does this analogy tell us anything about God? Create your own cosmos, then you'll know how much I love this one!
As alluded to above, I can't agree with everything Hartshorne says, but I do agree with him that God is omnipathos: here is something from an old post, and let's see how it holds up:
One thing that Hartshorne highlights is the "omnipathos" of God. This is a very useful word, because it means that, in addition to being all-knowing and all-powerful, he is all-feeling.
Right there we see an interesting Trinity consisting of truth, love, and power, each conditioned by the other. More to the point, if we deny God's omnipathos, there is no way for him to meaningfully relate to us -- to put himself in our shoes. But isn't this what the Incarnation is all about?
Hartshorne makes the intriguing point that God is not only the cause of all effects (the First Cause), but also the effect of all causes: the First Effect. This would be the metaphysical basis of his all-feeling omnipathos, as it means that he is supremely receptive to his own creation (or better, perpetual creativity).
This leads to one of Hartshorne's most controversial ideas, that God "changes." Quite simply, he changes because he is truly receptive to his creation -- hence also the "suffering with." Hartshorne believes that the overemphasis on the notion of Unchanging Absolute -- as we've discussed in the past -- is a Greek import, not truly biblical (not to mention incoherent and ultimately absurd).
In the Greek conception, time is completely devalued in favor of eternity. Time is change, and change is bad because it cannot disclose unchanging truth.
But there is change and there is change. For example, there is decadence, deterioration, corruption, degradation, dissolution, decline -- you know, Obama style change.
But there is also growth, development, maturation, perfection, etc. These are very different things. For Hartshorne, God possesses super-eminent relativity, meaning that his omnipathos is to our empathy as his omniscience is to our knowing. But it is certainly not to be thought of as a deficit. Rather, it is a kind of perfect attunement.
Like the perfect parent.
On a purely logical basis, how could God even have knowledge unless that knowledge is related to a known? No, we don't want to simply anthropomorphize him, but nor should we say that God has knowledge if we mean something totally different by the word. As Hartshorne writes, if
the divine knowledge is purely absolute, hence involves no relation to things known, what analogy can it have to what is commonly meant by knowledge, which seems to be nothing without such a relation?
Yes, he is the cause of this world, but here again, what is a cause without an effect? To say that in God cause and effect are absolutely one is to simply deny cause and effect, and to enclose him in a static monad.
The same applies to free will. If being omnipotent -- all-powerful -- means that we humans have no power, then that ends the discussion. But if omnipotence is bound up with omniscience (bearing in mind that to know is to relate) and omnipathos, then this changes the equation.
As Hartshorne writes, "Power to cause someone to perform by his own choice an act precisely defined by the cause is meaningless." Again, if God's omnipotence excludes our limited potency, then he is as pointlessly enclosed in his own circuitous locution as any deconstructionist.
If we consider the creation, we see that it is woven of chance and necessity, of freedom and constraint, of boundary conditions and emergent phenomena, of order and surprise. Perhaps this tells us something about its creator. Too much order equates to absolute omnipotence in the traditional sense, but a world of pure chance is inconceivable.
Even leaving all the specifics to the side, life makes no sense without this oddly "perfect" cosmic complementarity of design and freedom (which I would say is the very essence of creativity). Furthermore, "the reality of chance is the very thing that makes providence significant," because otherwise any intervention by God is just necessity in deusguise.
Running out of time here, but perhaps "maximizing relativity as well as absoluteness in God enables us to conceive him as supreme person." Unless by "personhood" we mean something totally alien to us.
For if God is "in all aspects absolute, then literally it is 'all the same' to him, a matter of utter indifference, whether we do this or do that, whether we live or die, whether we joy or suffer." In short, if this is "personal," then we aren't.
End of excerpt. I see that I dealt with objections in the next post, and let me extract any useful nuggets. It gets a little technical, but here goes:
For Hartshorne, God is both absolute and relative: absolute in the abstract but relative in the concrete. In short, absolute/relative is an irreducible complementarity, something which I believe is a fundamental lesson of the Trinity.
The Trinity cannot be further reduced to something less (or more) than itself (i.e., an impersonal monad) without thereby losing its identifying features of love, relationship, knowledge, creation, etc. Behind or before the Father is not an ontological bachelor; we might even say that the Trinity is just as much an effect as a cause of eternal love-in-relation. Certainly it is a way to conceptualize, frame, and think about this eternal love.
For me, one of Hartshorne's most helpful ideas -- and it can be used in many contexts -- is that when faced with a complementarity, the more concrete of the two complements is the more fundamental.
Thus, for example, the unchanging God is the abstract form of "the supreme personality as such." It is like saying Joe is Joe. Without ever actually meeting him in the flesh, we can affirm that Joe is Joe, has always been Joe, and will always be Joe. In that sense, Joe is unchanging, for Joe = Joe.
But there is also the concrete state of "God as person caring for the creatures he has created." This is the real Joe, not just the idea of Joe. For Hartshorne, "The abstract does not act, only the concrete acts or is a person." Furthermore -- and this is the (for me) revolutionary part -- "it is the divine Person that contains the Absolute, not vice versa" -- just as "the man contains his character, not the character the man."
"Any concrete case," writes Hartshorne, "contains the entire unlimited form." For example, consistent with Aristotle, there is no abstract realm of disembodied ideas.
Rather, the idea is in its concrete expression: any man is an instance of man-as-such. Thus, the abstract form appears "unlimited, not because it has all possible cases in actualized form, but because it has no actual case within it, being the common form of all actuality, and no actuality whatever."
In short, abstract possibility "is unlimited because it is not actualized at all. It is everything in the form of possibility, nothing whatever in the form of actuality."
Therefore -- and I realize this is a Big Leap for many people, "God as merely absolute is nonactual," whereas God-as-relative is concrete person.
I love that merely absolute. For example, if someone were to try to sell me on Islam, the first thing I might say is: "Allah? He is merely absolute. He can't be the real thing. He can't even be actual. He's just an abstraction, not a concrete person."
Perhaps this is why the only way to relate to the abstract Father is through the concrete Son, always and forever. God is our eternal relative, and we his.
[A]s absolute, God is 'simple,' has no constituents. But this only shows once more that it is God as relative that is the inclusive conception.... A wholly absolute God is power divorced from responsiveness or sensitivity... --Hartshorne
And here we are. Back to Leithart:
"Once we have baked in this asymmetrical reciprocity, we can say without hesitation or qualm that God is responsive to creation." We just need a bigger -- and more omnipathos -- God, AKA the Absolute Relative.
The only God who is is the related God, the God who has created a world that is other than himself and who, in that very act, has related himself to a world other than himself. The quest for an unrelated non-Creator is quixotic, for an unrelated God has nothing to do with us.
"God is actualized as Creator"; and "We have to do only with the Absolute-relative, never with the Absolute" (Leithart).
I guess that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
5 comments:
"We have to do only with the Absolute-relative, never with the Absolute"
Amen. There's no dealing at all with the Absolute.
Or the merely Relative.
Both are tyrannical.
Good Morning Dr. Godwin and Julie.
By the time I write this comment, the readers will have moved on to today's new post. And this is how I like to do things lately, because my comments, although directly related to the posts, can get tangential and I don't want to obfuscate the Good Drs lessons.
But the hard core OC old timers, those of us who have been around lo these almost twenty years, I hope you cast a backwards glance and see my laments. Because you can salve wounds. I've been salved just recently.
My issue today is again my decision to become a Catholic. I am encountering turbulence of another kind.
Please hear me out. I will use military analogies because they are easy for me to work with.
From the post, a quote:
"The Creator is internally related, a speaking communion capable of internal address, a God who says "us" (Leithart)."
Now I see this as a command structure. The Creator as Commander in Chief, capable of internal address (issuing orders to subordinates), a God who knows He is not us but is firmly the authority of us.
All of my years this has been the simple paradigm. Johan of old used the same. God the Father issues an order, you do it. If you are told to go to Nineveh, you go to Nineveh. You do not sail for Tarshish. A hard lesson. But an easy one. Listen and obey.
I'm an old and hoary specimen. This starkly simple system has served me well. I have learned to listen an obey.
But then there is Jesus, of whom I was know well. I learned of him. I asked God if I should become a Christian to get deeper here. The answer was long in coming, but finally I got it: proceed.
My comment, continued:
My education revealed Jesus is God's Son, he incarnated via the virgin Mary, he suffered and died for us, and he was raised from the dead after three days and ascended to heaven where he sits now at the right hand side of his Father. Jesus heals, Jesus forgives, Jesus loves, Jesus walks with us in real-time. I love all of it. I believe all of it to the letter. I have read the Gospels. They smack of the truth. I can feel it in both my mind and in my heart. All is well and good, right? I shall proceed with my conversion, all shall be well, this is what I am thinking.
But then there is the issue of command and control. Let's use the analogy of Alexander the Great, of Macedon. He was wont to split his forces and place some under trusted generals, such as Cleitus the Black.
So, in my conversion there is I must say a certain tension. I have been used to being under the direct command of Alexander. In my analogy I equate Alexander with God the Father. In battle I have become accustomed to swinging my sword in the shade of His mighty thigh, and hearing His commands directly from His mouth.
Now it would seem I have been transferred to a trusted general, Cleitus, whom I equate here with Jesus. So now I take orders from Cleitus instead. Is that how it is supposed to work? All orders still arrive by the same messenger, the Holy Spirit.
But I can't help but feel demoted somehow, this is the problem. The primary directives of Christ, to love God with all your heart and with all your mind and with all hour strength, to love thy neighbor as thyself, to forgive the trespasses of others against ourselves, to succor the weak, to share our wealth, to trust Jesus to heal and forgive, and to go and sin no more; these are the standing orders Jesus to his flock.
These strike me as the very same standing orders issued by God the Father, but in restated perhaps a little different. We see the Ten Commandments, or in my case the Father just downloads the standing orders directly or directs me to the writings of a sage like Aurobindo, where again we get the same messages. Desire should be effaced. Surrender. Obey.
To cut to the chase, I treasure my relationship with God the Father. To suddenly pay such overweening attention to His Son strains me; the elegant simplicity of before has become complicated.
Can you advise, Dr. Godwin or Julie? Can I safely merge Alexander with Cleitus and to speak of of them as one flesh? May I, to help me in my weakness, address both God the Father and his Son as "Master" and therby keep the streamlined chain of command I am so used to?
Help. How do we do Christianity? I cannot comfortably move into the Trinitarian arena. This is giving me spiritual indigestion. I need wise words form a human being. I need guidance. Can you help?
Regards, your Trench, who has wandered too far from the dugout, is scared.
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