{"id":1379,"date":"2025-04-25T17:10:06","date_gmt":"2025-04-25T22:10:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/alanrhoda.net\/wordpress\/?p=1379"},"modified":"2025-08-15T13:06:15","modified_gmt":"2025-08-15T18:06:15","slug":"the-hexagon-of-heresy-part-2-christology","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/alanrhoda.net\/wordpress\/2025\/04\/the-hexagon-of-heresy-part-2-christology\/","title":{"rendered":"The Hexagon of Heresy \u2013 Part 2: Christology"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"The This post is the second in a series on a recent book by James D. Gifford, Jr. titled The Hexagon of Heresy: A Historical and Theological Study of Definitional Divine Simplicity<\/em><\/a> (Wipf & Stock, 2022).<\/p>\n

In the previous post<\/a> I discussed the problem of the One and the Many and why the idea of absolute or definitional divine simplicity (DDS) is problematic. The basic problem is that it requires us to view the One and the Many, unity and plurality, as intrinsically opposed<\/em> to one another at every level. An absolute<\/em> One excludes the Many by definition. So conceived, the One and the Many stand in an either\u2013or dialectic, a zero sum<\/em> game in which one side can only gain at the expense of the other.<\/p>\n

In that post I explained how the Hexagon of “heresy” arises by distinguishing three ontological levels at which one might try to control the One\u2013Many opposition: (1) existence\/being, (2) essence\/nature, and (3) energy\/activity.\u00a0 The binary, either\u2013or nature of the One\u2013Many tension combined with these three ontological levels generates six possible “heresies” or defective<\/em> ways of relating the One and the Many. At each level (existence, essence, energy) on the right-hand side (RHS) of the Hexagon we have a monist<\/em> “heresy” wherein the One excessively dominates the Many, not allowing it enough independence to effectively be<\/em> the plurality that it is. At each level (existence, essence, energy) on the left-hand side (LHS) of the Hexagon we have a dichotomist\/dualist<\/em> “heresy” wherein the Many asserts itself at the expense of the One and the One cannot, therefore, truly unify<\/em> the Many.\u00a0The “orthodox” position in the middle of the Hexagon aims to give both<\/em> the One\u00a0and<\/em> the Many their full due at all three levels, allowing them fully to unite and synergize. This position rejects the absolute<\/em> oneness of the One in favor of a unity-in-difference model wherein the One, the ultimate source of all unity, is itself intrinsically diverse.<\/p>\n

In this post I discuss Gifford’s application of the One\u2013Many dialectic and the Hexagon to Christology. Here alone do we find a proper Hexagon of heresy<\/em> (no scare quotes around “heresy”) and a proper orthodoxy<\/em> because the heretical positions were formally condemned, and orthodoxy affirmed, at the first six ecumenical councils from 325 AD to 681 AD.<\/p>\n

1. The Christological Hexagon of Heresy<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

In the Christological context, the problem of the One and the Many translates to one of relating Christ’s divine and human natures. On the assumption of DDS, Christ’s divine nature is the absolute One and Christ’s human nature is a created Many that stands in opposition to that One.<\/p>\n

As Gifford breaks it down, there were six great Christological heresies. Not all were motivated directly or primarily by DDS, though a zero-sum DDS mentality very naturally leads to the first two heresies (Ebionism and Docetism). These are heresies of elimination as they operate at the level of existence\/being<\/em>. One (Ebionism) eliminates Jesus’s divine nature. The other (Docetism) eliminates his human nature.<\/p>\n

Ebionism (also known as psilanthropism<\/em> or mere-manism) holds that Jesus was a mere man and thus not divine at all. He was a man who was in some sense “adopted” by God as his “son” and commissioned as the Hebrew Messiah. He was the greatest of all prophets and his life sets a moral example for us to follow, but Jesus cannot save us. Only God can.<\/p>\n

Docetism (from Greek\u00a0dokein<\/em> = to seem) holds that Jesus was fully divine and therefore not human at all. He merely\u00a0seemed<\/em> to be human. Thus, Jesus didn’t\u00a0really<\/em> suffer on the cross or die. Unlike Ebionism, a moralistic “religion of control,” Docetism is a “religion of escape” that, like Gnosticism, downplays virtues of bodily control like temperance and courage\u2014because matter ultimately doesn’t matter\u2014in favor of purely intellectual virtues.<\/p>\n

The next two heresies, Arianism and Apollinarianism, are heresies of reduction. They operate at the level of essence\/nature. One (Arianism) reduces Jesus’s divinity to a quasi-divinity so that it doesn’t conflict with the true divinity of the absolutely simple and immutable One. The other (Apollinarianism) reduces Jesus’s humanity to a quasi-humanity so that it doesn’t conflict with his divinity.<\/p>\n

Arianism gives Jesus a far higher status than Ebionism does. For Arius, Jesus is not a mere man but the first and greatest of God’s creations. As a created being, however, Jesus remains firmly on the creation<\/em> side of the Creator\u2013creature divide.<\/p>\n

Apollinarianism, in contrast, insists that Jesus is fully divine. Because he’s fully divine, Apollinarius reasoned that Jesus could not be fully human. He necessarily lacked a human soul, will, and mind. In the incarnation, the eternal Word of God (God the Son) joined himself to a human body, taking the place of the human soul, will, and mind.<\/p>\n

The final two heresies, Nestorianism and Monophysitism, are heresies of emphasis. They affirm that Jesus is both “fully divine” and “fully human” but they cannot synergize and harmonize the divine and human aspects of Christ. Either Jesus’s divine side must functionally dominate his human side (Monophysitism) or his human side must function independently of his divine side (Nestorianism).<\/p>\n

Nestorianism says that Christ is\u00a0two persons<\/em>, a divine person (the Word) and a human person (the man Jesus) operating in parallel with each other. But what ensures that they stay in sync, that they always have the same goals? Nothing it would seem. Without the ability to synergize, the two persons can’t effectively and permanently coordinate.<\/p>\n

Monophysitism (and the closely related heresies of Monothelitism and Monoenergism) solves the coordination problem by making Jesus’s human side functionally subordinate to his divine side. The result, however, is that Jesus then can’t function like a true human. He may have a complete human nature on paper, as it were, but in practice, he’s something else\u2014a divine\u2013human hybrid\u2014with the divine firmly in charge.<\/p>\n

In the center of the Christological Hexagon is the orthodox position that was hammered out at the Council of Chalcedon (451 AD) and clarified by subsequent ecumenical councils. According to orthodoxy, Jesus is one person, specifically one divine<\/em> person, with two complete, distinct, and unconfused natures, a divine nature and a human nature. I’ll unpack this in the next section. It suffices for now to note that the orthodox position rejects the idea that there is any fundamental divine\u2013human tension at the levels of existence, essence, or energy. It therefore rejects DDS.<\/p>\n

2. Orthodoxy Developed and Clarified<\/strong><\/p>\n

In this section I detail the major conceptual<\/em> distinctions and advances that were key to the development of Christological orthodoxy. I highlight these key advances in bold <\/strong>below.<\/em><\/p>\n

As is well known, it took the Christian Church several centuries of focused debate to arrive at the position we now know as Christological orthodoxy. From the New Testament era the Church was guided in reflection by the apostolic kerygma<\/em> (i.e., proclamation) that \u201cthe crucified and risen one is Lord, God and Savior\u201d (Gifford, p. 21). This declaration stood in tension with prevailing Hellenistic ideas about the absolute oneness<\/em> of God (DDS), the absolute immutability<\/em> and impassibility<\/em> of God, and a negative<\/em> evaluation of the physical. It was not immediately clear, however, how both Jesus\u2019s unity<\/em> with (cf. John 10:30) and subordination<\/em> to (cf. John 14:28) the Father could be reconciled with that kerygma<\/em>. Early Christian theologians lacked a precise terminology and many of the necessary distinctions (person vs. nature; essence vs. energy) to put it all together.<\/p>\n

Moreover, some early theologians, most notably Origin of Alexandria (184\u2013253 AD), sought to harmonize Christianity with Hellenistic philosophy (esp. Middle Platonism). They did this partly for apologetic reasons. Regardless of motive, however, the net effect was the smuggling of DDS and related Hellenistic ideas into Christian theology. Because he affirmed DDS, Origin could not conceive of God having any contingent properties. He thus concluded that “to be the Father is the same as to be the \u2026 creator.” This gave rise to what Gifford calls the “Origenist problematic,” namely, “the inability to meaningfully differentiate between the generation of the Son and creation of the world” (Gifford, p. 25). Given Origen’s assumptions, it follows that as the Father is eternally Father and the Son eternally Son, so creation is also eternal. But one could just as easily reason that, because creation is not eternal, it must be that the Father is not eternally Father and therefore, as Arius (c. 250\u2013336 AD) would later famously put it, “there was a time when the Son was not.”<\/p>\n

In responding to Arius, Athanasius (c. 294\u2013373 AD) made two crucial distinctions. The first is the essence\u2013energy<\/em> (EE) distinction<\/strong>. As he says in On the Incarnation<\/em><\/a>, \u201c[I]t is a property of God [God\u2019s essence] not to be seen, but to be known by his works [energies]\u201d (p. 83). Among God’s works is creation. The EE distinction allows Athanasius to defend creation ex nihilo<\/em>: creation is a contingent\u00a0energetic<\/em> manifestation and not a necessary consequence of the divine essence<\/em>. Since DDS collapses the EE distinction, by affirming EE, Athanasius implicitly rejects DDS. The second is the person\u2013nature<\/em> (PN) distinction<\/strong>. This allows him to distinguish the Father and Son as distinct persons (hypostaseis<\/em>) while affirming that they have the same divine essence or nature (homoousia<\/em>). In sum, the Father’s relationship to the Son is necessary because it is one of nature (essence), whereas the Father’s relation to creation is contingent because it is one of energy. Together, these distinctions dissolve the Origenist problematic. With these distinctions, sharpened and refined by the Cappadocian theologians (Basil of Caesarea, Gregory of Nyssa, and Gregory of Nazianzus), we can say that the one God is “really one in essence, really manifold in operations, and really three in persons” (Gifford, p. 50).<\/p>\n

Basil of Caesarea (329\u2013379 AD) clarified that a person\u00a0<\/em>(hypostasis<\/em>) is irreducibly individual. Persons can be distinguished from other persons by their unique personal properties or idiomata<\/em>, but they cannot be defined as such. Essence and energy, however, can be shared by persons. Gregory of Nyssa (c. 335\u2013394 AD) added that, because the divine Persons (Father, Son, and Spirit) share one numerically identical divine essence (one concrete instance of the divine nature), they necessarily share numerically identical energetic faculties (i.e., they share a common mind and will). The three thus necessarily work together (synergize) in everything they do. This does not imply, however, that the mode<\/em> or manner<\/em> of their respective activity must be the same. After all, it is the Son and not<\/em> the Father or Spirit who becomes incarnate. The Father and Spirit are involved in the incarnation, but not in the same way the Son is.<\/p>\n

Side note #1<\/em>: A point stressed by Gifford throughout his book is that orthodox Christology rests on an ordo theologiae<\/em> (order of theology) that starts with a person<\/em>, the unique individual of Christ, notes what he does<\/em> (energy), and only then draws conclusions about Christ’s nature<\/em>. The order moves from the concrete and particular (person) to the abstract and general (nature). Starting with Christ’s person (before energy and nature) helps ensure that our resultant Christology does full justice<\/em> to who and what Christ reveals himself to be. With few exceptions, however, Western theology, which has been dominated by DDS, inverts the ordo theologiae<\/em> and starts with theology proper (God’s existence and nature), then moves on to creation (an energetic production of God’s) and anthropology (created human nature), and only then gets to Christology (person). This pattern is evident in Aquinas, Berkhof, Pannenberg, Grudem, Erickson, Oden, and many other systematic theologians. The problem with starting with nature and energy is that Christology (Christ’s person) gets shoehorned into an already established systematic. If that systematic should have bad assumptions (like DDS), then Christology gets distorted.<\/p>\n

The next key idea, which Gregory Nazianzus (c. 330\u2013c. 389 AD) used to devastating effect against Apollinarius (c. 310\u2013c. 390 AD), is that “what is not assumed is not healed.”<\/strong> The importance of this idea turns on the early Church’s view that salvation is theosis<\/em><\/strong>. In the famous words of Athanasius, “The Son of God became man that we might become divine”\u2014i.e., that we might become by grace what God is by nature. For this to be possible, for us to become divine, we creatures must participate in God’s uncreated, divine life. But since we can’t bootstrap our way to up God, for this participation to be possible, God must bring our humanity into himself. That’s what the incarnation accomplishes. The incarnation is the ontological ground for the possibility of theosis<\/em>. If Christ is not both fully divine\u00a0and\u00a0fully human<\/em>, then he is the wrong kind of “mediator between God and man” (1 Timothy 2:5) for the purpose of theosis<\/em>. Gregory’s statement that “what is not assumed is not healed” means that if any aspect of human nature is not included in the incarnation, then that aspect is not united to God and so is not “healed” by the incarnation. Seen in this light, Apollinarius’s proposal that Christ assumed a human body and animal soul but not a human rational mind is a non-starter. If Christ does not assume a human mind, then he cannot heal the fallen human mind.<\/p>\n

Next we come to Cyril of Alexandria (c. 375\u2013444). In opposition to Nestorius (c. 386\u2013c. 451), Cyril defended the\u00a0hypostatic union<\/strong>, the idea that Christ unites in one divine person<\/em> two distinct natures, one divine and one human.\u00a0In Greek a\u00a0hypostasis\u00a0<\/em>is a subsistent, concrete individual. When that individual has a rational nature, we call it a “person.” What makes the union “hypostatic,” then, is that it is a union of two natures within the singular person<\/em> of the divine Son.\u00a0A couple important consequences follow. First is the communicatio idiomatum<\/em><\/strong> (the communication of attributes). Because Christ unites both divine nature and human nature in his singular person, anything true of Christ qua divine and anything true of Christ qua human is true simpliciter<\/em> of Christ’s person. Thus, Christ is not only the eternal, omniscient, and omnipotent creator, but Christ also suckled at Mary’s breast and (pre-resurrection at least) is capable of suffering and dying. Second, because it is the divine <\/em>person of the Son or Word who becomes incarnate (John 1:14), bringing humanity into his eternally established divinity, there is an\u00a0asymmetry<\/em> in how Christ relates to his two natures. This is the enhypostatic\/anhypostatic distinction<\/strong>. Christ didn’t join his divine person to a distinct human person (that was Nestorius’s mistake). Rather, he joined his divine person to an anhypostatic<\/em> (without hypostasis) human nature and by joining his person to that nature he\u00a0enhypostasized <\/em>it. That is, Christ’s divine person supplies all that is necessary to personalize\u00a0<\/em>his human nature. I’ll say more on this shortly.<\/p>\n

Side note #2<\/em>: While not immediately germane to my purpose here, it is worth pointing out that the communicatio idiomatum<\/em> (CI) poses a major problem for any Christian who thinks God is absolutely immutable<\/em>,\u00a0timeless<\/em>, and\/or\u00a0absolutely impassible<\/em> (all corollaries of DDS). The problem is that, given CI, the divine Son changes over time in response to creaturely circumstances in virtue of being fully human. This doesn’t mean that the divine nature<\/em> is mutable or passible, but it does mean that at least one divine person<\/em> is mutable and passible. That’s enough to bring\u00a0intrinsic change<\/em> and\u00a0receptivity to creation<\/em> into the Triune God’s being. I’ll try to develop this further in a follow-up post.<\/p>\n

The final major contributor to orthodox Christology was Maximus the Confessor (c. 580\u2013662) who wrote in opposition to Monophysitism and the closely related heresies of Monothelitism and Monoenergism. In so doing he clarified in an important way the relation between Christ’s humanity and divinity. The problem is how Jesus can be functionally human<\/em> so as to “sympathize with our weaknesses” and be “tempted in every way, just as we are” and yet also remain impeccable<\/em> or “without sin” (Hebrews 4:15). Monophysitism and its cousins secure the impeccability of Christ by making him technically<\/em> human but not functionally human\u2014that is, while Christ technically\u00a0has<\/em> a complete human nature, his divine side so dominates his humanity that he can’t function in a fully human way. (Analogy: While there is oxygen (O) in a water molecule (H2<\/sub>O), that oxygen can’t function like free oxygen (O2<\/sub>) does because it is bound up within a larger compound that functions differently. Similarly, according to Monophysitism, Christ’s humanity is bound up within a larger divine\u2013human compound in which the divine side dominates.) But how can Christ be impeccable otherwise? Here’s where Maximus comes in.<\/p>\n

Maximus distinguishes between person<\/em><\/strong>\u00a0(Greek, hypostasis<\/em> \u2013 who<\/span> a subsistent, concrete individual is), nature<\/em><\/strong>\u00a0(Greek, physis<\/em> \u2013 what<\/span> a subsistent, concrete individual essentially is), and mode<\/em><\/strong> (Greek, tropos<\/em> \u2013 how<\/span> a subsistent, concrete individual non-essentially is). By\u00a0nature<\/em>, humans are created in the image of God with a self-determining will naturally oriented toward God. The orientation of this\u00a0natural will<\/strong> cannot change because it is hard-wired into human nature. Our degree of likeness to God\u2014that is, our moral mode of being\u2014can change, however, depending on how we as individual persons stand in relation to God. For example, a log placed near a fire will be hotter than a log further away from the fire. The nature of each log is the same (both are logs), but their modes with respect to temperature are different. So, while our natural<\/em> human will is inherently good, always oriented toward God, the\u00a0mode<\/em> of that will can range from very strong (i.e., more deified) to very weak (i.e., more carnal). Adam and Eve did not start out with a fully deified natural will\u2014otherwise they couldn’t have fallen. Like innocent children, they lacked mature divine wisdom and were therefore vulnerable to deception. Their pre-Fall wills, however, were nevertheless strong<\/em> and self-controlled, easily able to master appetites and passions that could pull them away from the true and perfect good (God) toward temporary and finite goods. Post-Fall, the mode<\/em> of Adam and Eve’s natural will became\u00a0weak<\/em>, conflicted, and “gnomic” (Maximus’s term for a weak and conflicted will). It thus became very hard for them to master their appetites and passions. In themselves, without God’s constant help, they lacked the strength and wisdom to keep it up, ensuring that they would constantly struggle with sin. The key point of all this is that the Fall did not<\/span> corrupt human nature or the natural will that comes with that nature. <\/em>If the Fall had corrupted human nature, then the incorruptible Word either could not have assumed our nature (lest he himself become corrupted) or could only have assumed a different nature. Either way, Christ wouldn\u2019t have been able to save us. Instead, the Fall disempowered<\/em> the human natural will, cutting Adam and Eve off from ready access to the divine energies and wisdom they needed to function properly. In the incarnation, the Word assumed a complete human nature and therefore a natural human will. He could do this because the natural human will is inherently good. Unlike pre-Fall Adam, however, Christ\u2019s human natural will was already deified<\/em> on account of the fact that His human nature was enhypostasized<\/em> by the divine Son. Consequently, Christ cannot be deceived and cannot sin. Upon theosis<\/em> we too will finally obtain a deified natural will, one that is not only strong through God\u2019s power but also filled with God\u2019s wisdom. At that point, doing God\u2019s will becomes “second nature\u201d for us and choosing contrary to God\u2019s will becomes unthinkable in the sense of no longer being a live option. In sum, the differences between Adam’s innocent-and-strong-but-not-deified human will, Adam’s weak and fallen human will, and Christ’s deified human will are ones of mode<\/em>, not\u00a0nature<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Side note #3<\/em>: The above describes how Maximus tries to solve the problem of how Christ can be both fully human<\/em> and “able to sympathize with our weaknesses” while remaining impeccable<\/em> and thus “without sin.” But more still needs to be said. Differences in mode alone aren’t enough to explain how Christ can be “tempted in every way, just as we are” (Hebrews 4:15). Because his natural human will is deified<\/em> it’s not clear how he could possibly be tempted by anything evil. Moreover, it’s not clear how Christ could have a fully human experience<\/em> so as to “sympathize with our weaknesses.” Consider this: With respect to his\u00a0divine<\/em> nature, Christ is essentially omniscient<\/em> (Hebrews 4:13), but with respect to his\u00a0human<\/em> nature, Christ is\u00a0not omniscient<\/em> (cf. Matthew 24:36). How can we reconcile this without falling into Nestorianism and dividing Christ into two distinct persons, one divine and one human? Here’s what I think we need to say: in becoming incarnate and enhypostasizing<\/em> human nature, the divine Word sets up a human-sized psychological “space” within<\/span> his own divine hypostasis<\/em>. It is through this space that the Word interfaces with Christ’s human body. This space, however, is not<\/em> another hypostasis<\/em>\u2014that would be Nestorian\u2014because it is not a subsistent individual in its own right. It’s more like a “virtual” individual. The distinction between the divine Word and this virtual human “person” is not hypostatic but sub-hypostatic<\/em> or intra-hypostatic<\/em>. The divine Word has full access to this human-sized space, but within this space Christ only has access to information that his human senses and mind make available plus whatever the Triune Godhead additionally choses to reveal. One thing that’s revealed to him is that he Christ is<\/em> the incarnate Word. Christ, therefore, has the same “sense of self” as the Word. That is, he doesn’t see himself as a distinct person, a distinct “I”. He can therefore say in full truthfulness, “Before Abraham was, I<\/span> am” (John 8:58). Within this human-sized space, moreover, Christ can be genuinely tempted because there he doesn\u2019t have access to the full scope of God\u2019s omniscient wisdom. Consequently, things might occasionally seem<\/em> good to him even though they aren’t really<\/em> good. From the divine side, the Word continually monitors what happens within this human-sized space and imparts whatever additional wisdom is necessary to keep Christ’s human will in sync with the divine will. The upshot is that Christ can be really tempted just as we are and yet remain perfectly sinless.<\/p>\n

3. Why an Orthodox Christology Matters<\/strong><\/p>\n

I have now explained the key concepts underlying orthodox Christology. These concepts allow us to make sense, I believe, of how Christ can be one divine person with two complete natures, divine and human, without either confusion of natures or division of his person. I have also proposed an explanation of how Christ can be tempted and yet remain impeccable.<\/p>\n

I’d like to wrap up by reflecting on why this matters. Why is an orthodox Christology important?<\/p>\n

Let’s start with theosis<\/em>. If direct union with God is the ultimate telos<\/em> of human existence (cf. Revelation 21:3), and if God perfectly loves us, then God will do whatever is necessary to facilitate our eventual union with himself to the fullest extent possible while ensuring that we remain distinctly ourselves. Since creatures cannot in principle bootstrap their way up to God, the only way creaturely union with God is possible is if God comes to us. Now, because Christ is the<\/em> mediator between God and man (1 Timothy 2:5), he is the prototype and ground of divine\u2013human union. No creature will ever have a closer connection to God than Christ’s humanity does. Consequently, Christology sets an upper limit on what’s possible with respect to union with God.<\/p>\n

A true incarnation\u2014God hypostatically uniting our entire humanity to himself\u2014is the fullest possible<\/em> way of exemplifying and facilitating divine\u2013human union. If in Christ a complete human nature dwells within<\/em>\u00a0God’s own divine life without being absorbed into his divinity, then the incarnation demonstrates that theosis<\/em>, synergistic and perichoretic creaturely union with God, is possible. Because Christ’s human side retains its own distinct nature, energy, will, and mind, union with God doesn’t efface our individuality. We don’t “merge with the infinite” like the proverbial drop of water in the ocean. Rather, we participate directly<\/em> in God’s divine life and love, loving him in turn with our own soul (nature), strength (energy), heart (will), and mind (Luke 10:27). Moreover, because Christ is one divine<\/em> person with two natures, his divine life enables and sustains the union.<\/p>\n

Side note #4<\/em>. To return to my sketch of the incarnation (side note #3 above), in\u00a0theosis<\/em> our finite, creaturely hypostaseis<\/em> (i.e., our individual persons or selves) take up permanent residence “in Christ.” That is, we come to dwell in Christ’s divine life in a manner directly analogous to the way his own virtual human-sized space does. As with Christ, our human-sized person-spaces never lose their individual distinctness, but the boundaries separating our spaces from his and from each other will become transparent and permeable. We will know as we are known (1 Corinthians 13:12) and be one as the Father and Son are one (John 17:20\u201323).<\/p>\n

If, however, a divine incarnation, a hypostatic union of divinity and humanity without confusion of natures, is not<\/em> possible\u2014that is, if one of the heretical Christologies is true\u2014then the best we can hope for is either<\/p>\n

    \n
  1. direct union by confusion\u2014we merge with the infinite and lose our individuality as God completely takes over. This is what “salvation” ultimately amounts to on the monistic, right-hand side of the hexagon. (Think of Calvinism, where God has to regenerate, i.e., “mind control,” creatures in order to save them.)<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

    or<\/p>\n

      \n
    1. indirect union by moral effort\u2014salvation is a transactional affair in which God does his part and we do ours. There’s no true union at the end of the process, no true synergy or perichoresis, just a (temporary) moral alignment of our will and God’s whereby we please God (we hope) and God pleases us (we hope). Moreover, because there’s no direct creaturely participation in God’s own life, this is an alignment we can always walk away from, as there’s nothing directly uniting both parties to sustain the “union.” This is what “salvation” ultimately amounts to on the dichotomist\/dualist, left-hand side of the hexagon. (Think here of liberal Christianity where salvation is mainly about “social justice” and moral crusades to make this world better.)<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

      In sum, Christological orthodoxy is the only model of divine\u2013human union on which theosis<\/em> makes sense as a viable\u00a0telos<\/em> for humanity. It’s no accident that Athanasius, Cyril, the Cappadocians, and Maximus all appeal explicitly to theosis<\/em> in making the case for Christological orthodoxy over against its heretical rivals.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

      This post is the second in a series on a recent book by James D. Gifford, Jr. titled The Hexagon of Heresy: A Historical and Theological Study of Definitional Divine Simplicity (Wipf & Stock, 2022). In the previous post I discussed the problem of the One and the Many and why the idea of absolute\u2026 Read More »<\/a><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[214,248],"tags":[259,257,256],"class_list":["post-1379","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-church-fathers","category-soteriology","tag-christology","tag-hexagon-of-heresy","tag-james-gifford"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/alanrhoda.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1379","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/alanrhoda.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/alanrhoda.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/alanrhoda.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/alanrhoda.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1379"}],"version-history":[{"count":20,"href":"http:\/\/alanrhoda.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1379\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1465,"href":"http:\/\/alanrhoda.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1379\/revisions\/1465"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/alanrhoda.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1379"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/alanrhoda.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1379"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/alanrhoda.net\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1379"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}