Philosophy's Continuous Coastline

The Meaning of Protestant Theology, a book written by Professor Phillip Cary and published by Baker Academic in 2019, is a good read for those looking for a perspicacious and concise account of the historical interaction between Western philosophy and Christian theology, with an emphasis on the Protestant viewpoint. This is a timely topic during an epoch of pestilence and cultural revolution: If singing is medically suspect, and if the ramparts of the Star-Spangled Banner are under assault; then what fate awaits A Mighty Fortress besieged? During the economic and cultural upheavals of the post-Augustan Roman Empire, which created the Age of Anxiety chronicled by E. R. Dodds, the Christian message and mindset attracted new believers. Would such attraction be expected today in a new generation of citizens anxiously scrolling down lists of government benefits for entries such as “tranquility, spiritual”?

In the Introduction to his 2019 book, the author observes that “Christians today are much less anxious about their own individual salvation or damnation than people in the sixteenth century, when Protestantism first arose” (p. 1). This observation might lead one to the question (as phrased by the reviewer) “Is there now any other reason, beyond salvation, for one to be a Protestant rather than to be an indifferentist, a materialist, a generalized spiritualist, an adherent of some traditional but non-Christian religion, a follower of some non-Protestant branch of Christianity, or a post-Christian futurist?”

The question about reasons for Protestantism can be transformed into the question (p. 2), “What is your faith about?” Among the theistic alternatives, one possible answer is experiencing “God working in my life,” in which case God gets to audition for a part in the believer’s story. A second possible answer is focusing on what Christ has done for us, “thus directing our attention away from our own works to Christ himself,” in which case the believer gets to be part of Christ’s story. Cary inclines towards this second alternative, which is expressed both in sacramental worship and in the preaching of the Word of God. These expressions are the source of the meaning of Protestant theology, which is the theme of Cary’s 371-page book.

Cary’s work aims “to show why Protestantism is best understood as a form of piety based on faith in the Gospel as the word of God that gives us Christ” (p. 4). The book’s first two chapters are centered on the comparison of ancient philosophy and Biblical writings as jointly setting up dueling concepts of ascending and descending spiritualities: “In place of human [philosophical] spirituality bringing us to God in a kind of ascent of heart and mind, the Gospel tells the story of a divine carnality, a descent of God to us” (p.6).

In Chapter 1 Cary mentions the concept of intellectual vision, which originated in Plato’s allegory of the cave (Republic, 514a-521a): Socrates tells Glaucon that what passes for reality inside a shadowy cave as observed by a subterranean prisoner turns out to be - - after that prisoner is forced up a rough and steep ascent to the earth’s surface - - only the shadows of objects that now become clearly discernable to the erstwhile prisoner. Moreover, the unshackled observer can now also contemplate the heavens, gaze upon the sun itself, and see true celestial nature. Socrates says that “this ascent and contemplation of the things above is the soul’s ascension to the intelligible region.” Socrates’ insight is that in this intelligible region (region of the known), the last thing to be perceived is the idea of the good (the sun), which is the cause of all that is right and beautiful. The intelligible world is the authentic source of truth and reason. Achieving this insight is a prerequisite for acting wisely in private or public capacities and for serving as a ruler in an ideal republic. It is easy to see that someone of Augustinian disposition could use this account of intellectual vision as a parallel to the Matthew 5:8 account of beatific vision: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”

Nevertheless, Cary argues that “Platonists got many things right when it comes to abstract questions about the being of God, but not so many when it comes to our relation to God, and especially not when it comes to how we know God … ‘intellectual vision’ concerns a power of the soul that I think we so not actually have …” (pp. 18-19). In other words, Platonism is often right about some transcendent properties of God (philosophical spirituality), but wrong about how we know God as immanent in the world (divine carnality), and wrong about the importance of intellectual vision, if it exists. Knowing the essence of God is less important than knowing who God is. Knowing God requires believing in Jesus Christ.

In Chapter 2 Cary maintains that Platonism remains necessary for rationalizing the background assumptions of orthodox Christian doctrine; nevertheless, Platonism overemphasizes the notion of an immortal soul ascending to heaven while awaiting the resurrection of the corruptible body. On pages 52 – 56 Cary provides many Scriptural references for the eschatological descent to earth of heavenly tents (upgraded bodies) or dwellings (renewed cities). The reviewer elaborates on three of these references as follows: First, “flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable … for the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable [raised from the grave to the graveside, as it were] … for this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then … ‘Death is swallowed up in victory’” (1 Corinthians 15:50-54). Second, the body is like an earthly tent with a heavenly replacement in reserve: “If the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens … while we are still in this tent, we groan … [to be] further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life” (2 Corinthians 5:1-4). Third, the writer of Revelation “saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God … [and] heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people’” (Rev 21:10-11).

When Cary writes that “what was not so essential to Christian orthodoxy … was the Platonist spirituality of the soul’s ascent to God” (p. 53), the current reviewer believes that an unnecessary dichotomy is created: The presupposition seems to be that if the Biblical writers or the church fathers were under a Greek cultural influence, then that influence must have amounted to “baggage” that could only have detracted from the Biblical message. If so, then perhaps the Christian message about life after death should emphasize “Plan on having plenty of time to perfect one’s virtue of patience while awaiting the general resurrection” and avoid any account of a soul’s ascent into heaven as an unnecessary distraction. In fact, however, Revelation 6:9-10 presents an intriguing image of some souls fretfully waiting under a heavenly altar for the day of resurrection, crying out “How long, O Lord … until you judge the inhabitants of the earth and avenge our blood?” The present writer adopts the view that, counterfactually speaking, God could have rerouted Abram to a Promised Land in a different geographic location if it would have turned out to the subsequent advantage of the Biblical writers and church fathers. As it is, the reviewer placidly accepts the Greek cultural viewpoint, as well as the existence of some distraught, seemingly Platonic souls temporarily warehoused under a heavenly altar, as parts of one integrated Christian revelation.

Featured