"Our product out of the all-knowing quantum field of intelligence"

Messianic imagery, Gnostic redeemer-myth imagery, New Age nonsense about “lightworkers” and elevated states of consciousness…

Collective hysteria has broken out in the American media, and some of the finest examples of a whole new literary genre have been collected together by the good people at the Obamamessiah blog (they're so straight-faced that it took me a while to be sure that this really is an exposé rather than an horrendous celebration), which chronicles the tide of sheer lunacy into which much of the US media has plunged during the last twelve months. The examples below are typical.

(H/T to Fr Finigan at The Hermeneutic of Continuity for drawing attention to this blog.)

Many spiritually advanced people I know (not coweringly religious, mind you, but deeply spiritual) identify Obama as a Lightworker, that rare kind of attuned being who has the ability to lead us not merely to new foreign policies or health care plans or whatnot, but who can actually help usher in a new way of being on the planet, of relating and connecting and engaging with this bizarre earthly experiment. These kinds of people actually help us evolve. They are philosophers and peacemakers of a very high order, and they speak not just to reason or emotion, but to the soul.

Mark Mortford (“Is Obama an enlightened being?”, San Francisco Chronicle June 6, 2008).

Lee predicted Obama would be elected in November. “When that happens, it will change everything. ... You’ll have to measure time by ‘Before Obama’ and ‘After Obama’”, Lee said during the panel. “It’s an exciting time to be alive now”. ... “Everything’s going to be affected by this seismic change in the universe”, he said.

Spike Lee, American Film Director. July 10, 2008.

Barack Obama strides into that void. While voicing “other worldly” themes he suggests “this world” solutions. His soaring oratory and his ambitious promises make his appeal to hope and his drive for change seem reasonable and attainable. He appeals to all that is innate and created in us in a longing for that “better country, that is a heavenly one” discussed in Hebrews 11. And he offers fulfillment in his election to the presidency at which time he will unleash the power of government to set things right in a world currently turned upside down. Thus he offers a messianic hope with the full weight and force of the U.S. government to back him up. For many right now, with the youth leading the way, this is a compelling combination. Heaven on earth is indeed appealing rather than having to wait.

Peter Wierenga, World March 27, 2008.

Vibrational Intelligence, or VQ is a measure of all the intangibles. It's what’s electric, resonant, pulsating, replete with energy, and connecting us all. It’s ubiquitous and it’s viral. It permeates the quantum field. Barack Obama is our collective representation of our purest hopes, our highest visions and our deepest knowings of who we are as a people, and as a country. We’ve surfaced him out of “the field” and charged him with the task of riding this wave on our behalf….

Obama has tapped into his own VQ. He’s listened to the unspoken, heard the unvoiced, and has responded to the yearning of our youth, our boomers, and the disenfranchised. He’s our product out of the all-knowing quantum field of intelligence, of which we’re all a part; and he’s simultaneously speaking into that field. In that collective vibrational field exists a longing for the more of who we are, and the hunger to live it.

Eve Konstantine, Huffington Post February 5, 2008.

You couldn’t invent some of this stuff…. The site is also worth visiting for some of the ridiculous iconography:

One particular work invoked the sacred, picturing Obama’s great head – illuminated by sunbursts – emerging from the clouds over a bare-breasted maiden who is robed in an American flag and emerging from a volcano. Note that in the lower-right-hand corner an assemblage of people are literallykneeling before Obama.

We live in strange and scary times.

Rome, the SSPX, and the wider picture

So Pope Benedict has lifted the excommunications on the four SSPX bishops, and is also (it is rumoured) proposing to admit the Traditional Anglican Communion (TAC) into communion with Rome under a personal prelature.

Over on Damian Thompson’s blog, the hardline rad-trads are hoping for the full reintegration of the SSPX and for a full return to Tradition with a capital “T” (i.e. to 1950s Catholicism in its most “integralist” form). On the same blog, the one or two liberal Catholics seem to agree that that is the Pope’s long-term plan, and are horrified by it.

But if the Pope’s long-term plan is a return to an SSPX vision of Catholicism, why integrate the TAC? Certainly his understanding of “Tradition” seems much more pluriform than that of the SSPX and the rad-trads.

One of the few bloggers who has truly understood what is going on here, I think, is Fr Ray Blake at St Mary Magdalen, who writes that the Pope's real goal (bold italics mine) is “the Reconciliation of East and West” and that “the bringing into communion of the SSPX and other traditional groups, as well as the Anglican group TAC, is both a model for the East and an ‘experiment’ in plurality for the West”. 

Absolutely. My guess is that, in addressing the SSPX and the TAC, is Benedict also has more than half an eye on addressing Patriarch Bartholomew and Patriarch Kirill.

In effect, he’s saying to them “look, we respect your tradition and your autonomy, and we’re open to exploring structures which will enable you to preserve your tradition and autonomy in a way that is nevertheless fully in keeping with Catholic doctrine and ecclesiology”. 

Recent announcements reflect Pope Benedict’s genuine pastoral concern for Lefebvrists and traditionally-minded Anglicans, but my hunch is that all the time he’s looking at the bigger picture, which is the healing of the schism of 1054.

The Continuity vs Rupture debate

Pope Benedict XVI distinguishes between two approaches to understanding Vatican II:

1) the “hermeneutic of continuity” – i.e. the idea that there is a fundamental continuity between the theological, liturgical and moral understanding of the pre-Vatican 2 Church and that of the post-Vatican 2 Church;

2) the “hermeneutic of rupture/discontinuity – i.e. the idea that there is a fundamental discontinuity between the theological, liturgical and moral understanding of the pre-Vatican 2 Church and that of the post-Vatican 2 Church.

A lot of Catholic theologians (and bishops and priests), however, seem to be on the hermeneutic of rupture side of the debate, arguing that the texts of the Council reflect a fundamental discontinuity, and invoking the so-called “spirit of Vatican 2”, which argues basically that Vatican 2 gave a mandate for change/development in certain areas, and that therefore anything and everything can and indeed should be changed, and that pretty much nothing is exempt from this rule.

If the hermeneutic of rupture people are correct in their analysis, one of the following must logically follow:

1) the Church got it wrong before Vatican 2 on things such as liturgy, but has now got it right (in which case, if the Church misunderstood the meaning and purpose of liturgy for 1900 years, why should we believe that the “spirit of Vatican 2” people have finally got it right?);

2) the Church got it right before Vatican 2, and its understanding of liturgy (for example) was “true for its time”, but the modern church (or at least that part of it where progressive hermeneutic of rupture types are in the ascendancy) has got it right “for the time in which we now live” (in which case one is pretty much advocating the Modernist heresy that truth is contingent on time and place rather than something absolute);

3) the Church got it wrong before Vatican 2 and has now got it wrong in a different way (in which case there’s no point being a Catholic at all);

4) the Church got it right before Vatican 2 and has now got it so radically wrong that it is now scarcely Catholic in any meaningful sense (in which case one might consider hopping across to the SSPX).

None of these positions is acceptable to an orthodox Catholic, whereas Pope Benedict’s view – that there’s a fundamental continuity between the two periods, but that the “spirit of Vatican 2” folk have misrepresented and misapplied Vatican 2 in such a way as to create an appearance of rupture – is surely the only position that (a) reflects the facts and (b) saves us from the need to become Lefebvrists or Russian Orthodox.

Garrigou-Lagrange on Holy Saturday

Here’s another take on Christ’s descent into hell, this time by Père Garrigou-Lagrange, OP. At long last (and not before time) there seems to be a bit of a Garrigou-Lagrange revival underway, doubtless due in part to the recent book by Fr Aidan Nichols OP (which I confess I haven’t yet got round to buying; it’s available via Amazon from Sapientia Press – a great new Catholic publisher which is part of Ave Maria University in Florida). Also well worth reading is this article by Fr Thomas Crean, OP. For the full Garrigou-Lagrange text, click here.

Christ, descending into hell, delivered the holy fathers. He delivered them from the penalty of original sin, namely, from the penalty whereby they were excluded from the life of glory, of whom the prophet says: "Thou also, by the blood of Thy testament, hast sent forth Thy prisoners out of the pit wherein is no water," And St. Paul says: "Despoiling the principalities and powers," namely, the infernal ones, by taking away the just, He brought them from this place of darkness to heaven, that is, to the beatific vision. Such is the opinion of the Fathers, especially St. Augustine and St. Gregory the Great and St. Jerome.

Thus Christ's descent into hell was the cause of exceeding joy to those souls already purified, such as the souls of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, the prophets, as also many just and holy women of the Old Testament.

Thus we clearly see that the whole of the Old Testament was not an immediate preparation for eternal life, but for the coming of the Redeemer, who after having suffered and died, had to open the gates of heaven, so that we might enter into eternal life. The first and most abundant fruits of the sacrifice on the cross are also made manifest. Then, too, the fathers of the Old Testament fully understood that the passion of Jesus was the source of all graces, and that without it they could neither have been justified nor have merited an increase of grace, nor obtained eternal life. Therefore they were most sincerely thankful to the Savior whose coming they awaited for many centuries, who is called "the desire of the eternal hills, the joy of the angels, the King of patriarchs, the Crown of all the saints…"

By the mystery of the holy Incarnation, by the labors of Jesus, by His agony and passion, by His infirmities, and by His death they were liberated. In all these things they saw the most perfect fulfillment of what had been announced and the truth that the mystery of the redemptive Incarnation far transcends all figures, all sacrifices of the Old Law, all prophecies. Christ's descent into hell truly meant for them, "it is consummated." All these things proclaim the glory of the cross.

More on Holy Saturday

In case any of you didn’t catch Fred’s comment, here’s his link to a great quotation from Balthasar on his excellent la nouvelle théologie blog.

Here's a taster of what Balthasar says, but do please check out the full post - the extended quotation is well worth reading, as is the discussion of an exchange from First Things.

From Holy Saturday onward, death becomes purification. On that day, the dead Lord opened up a way out of eternal forlornness and into heaven: the fire that purifies the dead toward greater love. Under the Old Covenant, that did not exist; for everyone, there was only Sheol, the place of being dead. Descending into this, Christ has thrown open the entranceway to the Father.

Fred’s link shows that Balthasar’s understanding of the descent into hell does justice to the traditional account of the “harrowing of hell” while at the same time reflecting his own understanding of Christ’s Holy Saturday experience and its redemptive significance.

And here’s what Aquinas has to say in answer to the question “was it fitting for Christ to descend into hell”:

I answer that It was fitting for Christ to descend into hell.

First of all, because He came to bear our penalty in order to free us from penalty, according to Is. 53:4: “Surely He hath borne our infirmities and carried our sorrows”. But through sin man had incurred not only the death of the body, but also descent into hell.

Consequently since it was fitting for Christ to die in order to deliver us from death, so it was fitting for Him to descend into hell in order to deliver us also from going down into hell. Hence it is written (Osee 13:14): “O death, I will be thy death; O hell, I will be thy bite”.

Secondly, because it was fitting when the devil was overthrown by the Passion that Christ should deliver the captives detained in hell, according to Zach. 9:11: “Thou also by the blood of Thy Testament hast sent forth Thy prisoners out of the pit”. And it is written (Col. 2:15): “Despoiling the principalities and powers, He hath exposed them confidently”.

Thirdly, that as He showed forth His power on earth by living and dying, so also He might manifest it in hell, by visiting it and enlightening it.

Accordingly it is written (Psalm 23:7): “Lift up your gates, O ye princes”, which the gloss thus interprets: “that is – Ye princes of hell, take away your power, whereby hitherto you held men fast in hell”; and so “at the name of Jesus every knee should bow”, not only “of them that are in heaven”, but likewise “of them that are in hell”, as is said in Phil. 2:10.

Summa Theolgiae III, q. 52, a. 1.

Hans Urs von Balthasar

Derya asks: “Can I put another request then? Would you mind writing about Balthasar? I know he is not liked by some. I am curious about what you think about him.”

It’s true that he’s not liked by some. A lot of more traditionalist thinkers regard Balthasar with suspicion, bordering upon hostility. As I said in a previous blog-post, he isn’t everyone’s cup of tea (and he isn’t entirely my cup of tea, to be honest), but the hostility is surprising.

After all, he died a couple of days before being made a Cardinal, and, at his funeral, the then Cardinal Ratzinger stated that his elevation to the Cardinalate was pretty much John Paul II’s act of approval and commendation, in the name of the Church, of Balthasar’s theological ouevre.

So why the controversy? Firstly, Balthasar argued that it is legitimate to hope that all might be saved. He didn’t preach an empty hell. He didn’t deny the Church’s teaching on hell. He simply argued that it’s acceptable to hope that redemption might be universal.

To many readers, the expression of this hope constitutes a rejection of a fundamental truth – that hell is real and that an awful lot of people end up there. To others, all that Balthasar was saying in answer to the question “dare we hope that all might be saved” was, as Fr Richard J. Neuhaus puts it, “yes, we dare so hope and should so hope, while maintaining the orthodox understanding that the final judgment is, of course, God’s alone”.

The other controversy surrounds Balthasar’s “Holy Saturday” theology. Balthasar was spiritual director to a physician called Adrienne von Speyr, who experienced to a very marked degree a sense of being abandoned by God. Studying the writings of mystics from the early middle ages to the modern period, Balthasar found that this experience of “God-abandonment” was not uncommon, and concluded that it was in the experience of God-abandonment that these mystics were most intimately united to the person of Christ.

Balthasar then postulated that maybe Christ’s own Passion was characterized by this sense of complete and utter God-abandonment (as in the agony in Gethsemane and the cry of dereliction on the Cross), and extended this forward into the descent into hell, which he presented not so much as a triumphant descent (the traditional view) but as the culmination of the process whereby the incarnate Son experienced distance and separation from, and ultimately abandonment by, his heavenly Father.

In arguing thus Balthasar wasn’t seeking to deny the idea of redemption as victory over death and sin, and over hell and the devil. Rather, he was attempting to approach the psychological reality and horror of Christ’s Passion and descent through an act of awed contemplation of what it means to say that the Son of God has truly become incarnate, truly suffered, and truly known, healed and redeemed the darkest depths of the human condition.

Balthasar isn’t always entirely successful at explaining how (for example) Christ’s work of atonement operates. Thomas Aquinas is, frankly, far better at explaining things than Balthasar is, far more lucid in expounding the mysteries of the faith, and is in most ways a far more satisfying theologian. A little Balthasar goes a long way, and maybe he’s best enjoyed as a dessert at the end of a nourishing main course of Aquinas (!)

However, Balthasar never claimed to be offering a fully coherent systematic analysis of theology. Instead, he described his theology as a “kneeling theology” – i.e., theology conceived as the wonderment of contemplative prayer – and it is this contemplative, erudite and often lyrical “style” of theology which can make Balthasar either inspiring or frustrating, depending on the sensibilities of the reader.

"...my fundamental intention: to demonstrate the reality of Christ as insuperably the greatest thing...because He is precisely the human word of God for the world, the most humble service of God which carries beyond measure every human aspiration to fulfilment and is the extreme love of God in the glory of his death, so that all go beyond themselves and live in Him."

Hans Urs von Balthasar, 1903-1988.

More on Post-Critical Theology

I blogged yesterday about critical, counter-critical, and post-critical theology (as understood by the late Avery Cardinal Dulles).

One way of illustrating the difference between the three is to look at the different ways in which they talk about dogma.

Critical theology will either ignore dogmatic teaching altogether, or else it will call it into question (explicitly or implicitly), or else it will re-interpret it in ways which, in effect, empty it of its original meaning.

The resurrection, for example, will be presented as an experience on the part of the disciples that Jesus was still with them, rather than as the physical event of resurrection which is clearly what Scripture and Tradition have in mind.

Again, critical theology will talk about the incarnation, for example, in a way which suggests the divinity of Jesus consists simply in his being perfectly human.

Post-critical theology, which has it roots in the writings of figures such as de Lubac, Balthasar, and Rahner – all of whom wrote both before and after Vatican 2 – looks for fresh and creative ways in which to talk about dogma, but its purpose is always to defend, explore and elucidate the Church’s teaching, not to critique it.

Rahner (pictured above) is often accused of weakening the doctrine of the incarnation (among other doctrines), but his goal was always to present Catholic dogma in a way which would clarify and inspire, and never to challenge it or call it into question.

Indeed, having been opposed to the dogmatic definition of the Assumption in 1950 (in which he nevertheless believed), he subsequently wrote that the duty of Catholic theologians was to defend and explain the teachings of the Church – and he duly threw his weight behind explaining the dogma.

One might very well call into question Rahner’s success in finding fresh and creative ways in which to explain and defend the teachings of the Church, but one could never question his complete sincerity in seeking to do so.

With critical theologians such as Küng and Schillebeeckx the situation is very different. Rahner can be accused, at worst, of being unsuccessful in his attempt to defend and explain the Church’s teachings, but Küng and Schillebeeckx can be accused of actively challenging traditional and magisterial understandings of the Church’s dogmatic teaching.

There is a certain heroism about the attempt (however flawed) of de Lubac, Balthasar and Rahner to expand the horizons of Catholic theology and to enrich its understanding and presentation of Catholic Tradition, and the nobility of what they were attempting to achieve deserves to be acknowledged, even by those who think that they failed to achieve it.

Küng and Schillebeeckx, together with others like them, however, set out not to defend and explain but to deconstruct and reconstruct – and in doing so presented Catholic theology not only in a changed “style” (to use Balthasar’s expression) but with a drastically altered content and drastically altered conclusions.

The counter-critical response to all this is a simple one. All theological creativity is dangerous (the argument goes), because, however well-intentioned it might be at the outset, it inevitably ends up with Küng and Schillebeeckx, and with the confusion that is caused when critical theology filters into the seminaries and is passed on to the laity in the form of poor catechesis.

However, I don’t believe that it’s helpful to reject theological creativity just because many have used that creativity in order to undermine the Church. The answer isn’t less creativity in theology so much as better creativity – creativity which starts out from the presupposition that Catholic Tradition and Magisterium are to be believed, and that they are the object of our humble faith and obedience, not of our suspicion.

It isn’t the attempt to find new ways of expressing ancient truths which is the problem (though such attempts can often run into trouble). Rather, it’s the attitude of mind of the theologian that determines the orthodoxy or otherwise of the theology that he produces.

As Avery Dulles showed, what matters is the fundamental attitude of the theologian to the Church, and to the Church’s Tradition and Magisterium.

Avery Dulles: Post-Critical Theology

Cardinal Avery Dulles, who died on December 12^th, was a Jesuit and McGinley Professor of Religion and Society at Fordham University in New York.

In later life, Cardinal Dulles embraced what he termed “post-critical theology”.

Basically, “critical theology” is what most conservative Catholics would describe as “liberal”, “progressive”, or “dissenting theology”.

It takes for its starting point the assumption that the task of theologians is to hold to account, and where necessary oppose, an essentially narrow-minded and self-serving Tradition and Magisterium.

In the world of critical theology, the Catholicism of the pre-Vatican 2 period needs to be pretty much replaced by a more contemporary “paradigm”.

Critical theology, accordingly, interprets Vatican 2 from the point of view of the “hermeneutics of rupture”, believing that Vatican 2 marked a radical and irrevocable break with an outmoded past, and brought in a fundamentally new – and vastly better – style of Catholicism.

The opposite of critical theology is “countercritical” theology. The countercritical movement agrees with the analysis that Vatican 2 marked a radical break with the past, but, unlike the critical movement, regards this as an unmitigated disaster.

The countercritical movement is rightly critical of dissident theology, condemning figures such as Schillebeeckx and Küng who have set out – quite openly – to dismantle and then reconstruct Catholicism (in Schillebeeckx’s case along what are clearly neo-Marxist lines).

Unfortunately, the countercritical movement has become so paranoid about theological creativity that it tends to regard any departure from the narrowest norms of 1950s Catholicism as “modernizing”, and to reject theologies propounded by figures such as Karl Rahner, Henri de Lubac and Hans Urs von Balthasar who are by no means dissident or “critical”, even if they aren’t necessarily every orthodox Catholic’s cup of tea.

While opposing the critical movement, Cardinal Dulles regarded the countercritical movement as closed-minded, and, like Pope Benedict, preferred to emphasize the “hermeneutic of continuity” – the idea that there exists a fundamental continuity between the pre-Vatican 2 church and the post-Vatican 2 church.

Unlike the proponents of critical theology, he believed that Catholics – including Catholic theologians – should operate on the presumption that Tradition and the teaching of the Magisterium are basically correct.

However, unlike many of the proponents of countercritical theology, he also believed that there’s nothing wrong with exploring areas of Tradition and the Magisterium which have previously been neglected (ressourcement), and with defending and promoting Tradition and Magisterium in new ways and (where appropriate) using new models and styles of theology alongside the old.

Because critical theology is many ways destructive (or, at least deconstructive) of Catholicism in its classical form, and because countercritical theology is too often just a question of quoting the Magisterium (what Rahner termed Denzingertheologie) without any appreciation of how to move the debate forward, the post-critical approach of Avery Dulles (which, I think, reflects the approach of people like Aidan Nichols, OP, and, most significantly, of Joseph Ratzinger when acting qua theologian), seems like the most fruitful way for Catholic theology to go.

Having said all that, I still think that post-critical theology is at its best when it stays close to Aquinas, and, in particular, to the Church Fathers read through a Thomist spectacles.

Aquinas on the Image of God in Man

In her comment on my last post, Julianna raises the question of Aquinas’s teaching on the imago Dei (image of God) in human beings, so here are three pertinent texts:

Summa Theologiae I, q. 93, a. 4.

Since man is said to be the image of God by reason of his intellectual nature, he is the most perfectly like God according to that in which he can best imitate God in his intellectual nature.

Now the intellectual nature imitates God chiefly in this, that God understands and loves Himself. Wherefore we see that the image of God is in man in three ways.

First, inasmuch as man possesses a natural aptitude for understanding and loving God; and this aptitude consists in the very nature of the mind, which is common to all men.

Secondly, inasmuch as man actually and habitually knows and loves God, though imperfectly; and this image consists in the conformity of grace.

Thirdly, inasmuch as man knows and loves God perfectly; and this image consists in the likeness of glory. Wherefore on the words, “The light of Thy countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us” (Psalm 4:7), the gloss distinguishes a threefold image of "creation," of "re-creation," and of "likeness." The first is found in all men, the second only in the just, the third only in the blessed.

Summa Theologiae I, q. 93, a. 6.

Therefore we may observe this difference between rational creatures and others, both as to the representation of the likeness of the Divine Nature in creatures, and as to the representation in them of the uncreated Trinity.

For as to the likeness of the Divine Nature, rational creatures seem to attain, after a fashion, to the representation of the species, inasmuch as they imitate God, not only in being and life, but also in intelligence….

Likewise as the uncreated Trinity is distinguished by the procession of the Word from the Speaker, and of Love from both of these, as we have seen (I, q, 28, a. 3); so we may say that in rational creatures wherein we find a procession of the word in the intellect, and a procession of the love in the will, there exists an image of the uncreated Trinity, by a certain representation of the species.

Summa Theologiae I, q. 93, a. 6

a certain representation of the species belongs to the nature of an image. Hence, if the image of the Divine Trinity is to be found in the soul, we must look for it where the soul approaches the nearest to a representation of the species of the Divine Persons.

Now the Divine Persons are distinct from each other by reason of the procession of the Word from the Speaker, and the procession of Love connecting Both.

But in our soul word “cannot exist without actual thought”, as Augustine says (De Trin. xiv, 7). Therefore, first and chiefly, the image of the Trinity is to be found in the acts of the soul, that is, inasmuch as from the knowledge which we possess, by actual thought we form an internal word; and thence break forth into love.

Aquinas on Deification - Some Texts

Julianna asks with regard to my previous post about the specific passages on which what I said about St Thomas Aquinas’s teaching on theosis is based. Here are a few passages which I think bring out Aquinas’s teaching very clearly, though they are by no means the only ones.

The leading expert on the theme of deification in Aquinas is Daniel A. Keating, who has recently written a book entitled Deification and Grace (Sapientia Press) which traces the outlines of a theology of theosis within the Catholic tradition.

Anyway, here are some very rich texts from St Thomas…

Commentary on Ephesians (on Eph. 3:20):

the human mind and will could never imagine, understand or ask that God become man, and that man become God and a sharer in the divine nature. But he has done this in us by his power, and it was accomplished in the Incarnation of his Son. “That through this you may be made partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pet. 1:4).

Commentary on John (on John 15:9)

the Son did not love the disciples in either of these ways. For he did not love them to the point of their being gods by nature, nor to the point that they would be united to God so as to form one person with him. But he did love them up to a similar point: he loved them to the extent that they would be gods by their participation in grace – “I say, ‘You are gods’” (Ps 82:6); “He has granted to us precious and very great promises, that through these you may become partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pet 1:4) ‑ and he loved them to the extent that they would be united to God in affection: “He who is united to the Lord becomes one spirit with him” (1 Cor 6:17); “For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son" (Rom 8:29). Thus the Father communicated to the Son a greater good, with respect to each nature of the Son, than the Son did to his disciples; yet there is a similarity, as was said.

Commentary on Romans (on Rom. 8:29)

Then [Paul] indicates what follows from this predestination, when he says: “in order that he might be the first-born among many brethren”. For just as God willed to communicate His natural goodness to others by imparting to them a likeness of his goodness, so that he is not only good but the author of good things, so the Son of God willed to communicate to others conformity to his sonship, so that he would not only be the Son but the first-born among sons. Thus, he who is the only-begotten through an eternal origin, as it says in Jn (1:18): “The only Son who is in the bosom of the Father,” is the first-born among many brethren by the bestowal of grace: “He is the first-born of the dead, and ruler of kings on earth” (Rev 1:5). Therefore, Christ has us as brothers, both because he communicated to us a likeness of his sonship and because he assumed the likeness of our nature, as it says in Heb (2:17): “He had to be made like his brethren in every respect.”

Summa Theologiae (I-II, q. 112, a. 1)

Nothing can act beyond its species, since the cause must always be more powerful than its effect. Now the gift of grace surpasses every capability of created nature, since it is nothing short of a partaking of the divine nature, which exceeds every other nature. And thus it is impossible that any creature should cause grace. For it is as necessary that God alone should deify, bestowing a partaking of the divine nature by a participated likeness, as it is impossible that anything save fire should enkindle.

"Deification" - St Gregory Nazianzen and St Thomas Aquinas

Today is the memoria of St Basil the Great and St Gregory Nazianzen.

Gregory (329-389) was, alongside Basil and Gregory of Nyssa, one of the Cappadocian Fathers who played an important part in developing the Church’s teaching on the Trinity, incarnation and salvation.

One of the most striking features of Gregory’s theology is his teaching on “deification”. It is not always clear what Gregory means by this term, except that he attributes the work of “deification” (or “divinisation”; in Greek, theosis) to the Holy Spirit.

For St Thomas Aquinas, grace is “a certain participation in the divine nature by way of likeness”. This likeness consists in faith and charity, for faith imitates and participates in the act by which God knows himself (an act which is appropriated to the Son), and charity imitates and participates in the act by which God loves himself (an act which is appropriated to the Spirit).

In other words, in knowing and loving God (which we are able to do as a result of grace) we imitate and, in a certain sense, participate in God’s Trinitarian act of knowing and loving himself, and so participate in the divine nature by way of likeness and are constitutes “to the image of the Trinity”.

St Thomas’s teaching on grace represents the high-point of the theology of theosis which St Gregory played such an important part in developing.

Theology in the Greek Orthodox tradition draws heavily on the wisdom of St Gregory, and presents the doctrine of salvation by theosis in powerfully poetic and mysterious terms, but it is arguably St Thomas who offers the clearest explanation of how “deification” is to be understood.