Christ, Creation, and the Vision of God: Augustine's Transformation of Early Christian Theophany Interpretation 9004191291, 9789004191297

Table of contents :
Christ, Creation, and the
Vision of God
Dedication
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Abbreviations
Introduction
PART ONE WHY THE SON? THE FOUNDATIONS AND DEVELOPMENT OF LITERAL CHRISTOLOGICAL THEOPHANY EXEGESIS
Chapter One The polemical-doctrinal strand: Identity and mediation
Chapter Two The spiritual strand: Vision and
transformation
Chapter Three Theophany interpretation and pro-Nicene
theology
PART TWO FROM CHRIST TO TRIUNE GOD: AUGUSTINE’S CRITIQUE
OF PATRISTIC THEOPHANY NARRATIVE EXEGESIS
Chapter Four Vision, signs, and Christ in Augustine’s early
theophany narrative interpretation
Chapter Five Augustine’s exegetical shift in De Trinitate
Chapter Six The implications of Augustine’s theophany
narrative exegesis
Conclusion
Select Bibliography
Index of Scriptural References
Index of Ancient Writings

Citation preview

Christ, Creation, and the Vision of God

The Bible in Ancient Christianity General Editor

D. Jeffrey Bingham Editorial Board

Brian E. Daley Robin M. Jensen Christoph Markschies David G.K. Taylor Maureen A. Tilley Robert L. Wilken Frances M. Young

VOLUME 7

Christ, Creation, and the Vision of God Augustine’s Transformation of Early Christian Theophany Interpretation

By

Kari Kloos

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2011

This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Kloos, Kari. Christ, creation, and the vision of God : Augustine’s transformation of early Christian theophany interpretation / by Kari Kloos. p. cm. — (The Bible in ancient Christianity ; v. 7) Based on the author’s thesis—University of Notre Dame. Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index. ISBN 978-90-04-19129-7 (hardback : alk. paper) 1. Theophanies in the Bible. 2. Augustine, Saint, Bishop of Hippo. 3. Theophanies—History of doctrines— Early church, ca. 30–600. 4. Presence of God—History of doctrines—Early church, ca. 30–600. 5. Trinity—History of doctrines—Early church, ca. 30–600. 6. Augustine, Saint, Bishop of Hippo—Influence. I. Title. II. Series. BS680.T45K56 2010 231.7’409015—dc22

2010036410

ISSN 1542-1295 ISBN 978 90 04 19129 7 Copyright 2011 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoff Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change.

For my parents

Seek his face always. Remember the wonderful works he has done. Psalm 105:4–5 I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Psalm 27:13

CONTENTS Acknowledgments .............................................................................. Abbreviations .....................................................................................

ix xi

Introduction ........................................................................................

1

PART ONE

WHY THE SON? THE FOUNDATIONS AND DEVELOPMENT OF LITERAL CHRISTOLOGICAL THEOPHANY EXEGESIS Chapter One The polemical-doctrinal strand: Identity and mediation ........................................................................................

13

Chapter Two The spiritual strand: Vision and transformation ...............................................................................

45

Chapter Three Theophany interpretation and pro-Nicene theology ...........................................................................................

73

PART TWO

FROM CHRIST TO TRIUNE GOD: AUGUSTINE’S CRITIQUE OF PATRISTIC THEOPHANY NARRATIVE EXEGESIS Chapter Four Vision, signs, and Christ in Augustine’s early theophany narrative interpretation ............................................

101

Chapter Five

Augustine’s exegetical shift in De Trinitate .......

129

Chapter Six The implications of Augustine’s theophany narrative exegesis ...........................................................................

165

Conclusion ..........................................................................................

193

Select Bibliography ............................................................................

205

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Index of Scriptural References ........................................................ Index of Ancient Writings ...............................................................

213 215

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS As solitary as the activity of writing can be, my work has been enriched by the insight, constructive criticism, and friendship of many. This project began as a dissertation at the University of Notre Dame. John Cavadini, my director, generously guided my project with encouragement and wisdom, mentoring me in the ways of the scholar. I learned much from Brian Daley, both from his depth and breadth of knowledge of early Christianity and from his gracious friendship. Joseph Wawrykow and Randall Zachman consistently refined my thinking with their keen theological insights, and Larry Cunningham persistently encouraged me to work on Augustine’s De Trinitate from the beginning of my doctoral studies. The process of revising the dissertation into a book was longer, more difficult, and ultimately more worthwhile than I ever expected. Jeffrey Bingham, the series editor of The Bible in Ancient Christianity, has been both generous and timely with his guidance of this project. The Wabash Center for Teaching and Learning in Theology and Religion funded a summer research fellowship that allowed me to focus solely on my manuscript, and Paul Myhre’s practical advice helped me tremendously. John O’Keefe mentored me through revisions with generosity and a constructive critical eye. All the time, my colleagues at Regis University enriched me with their friendship, commitment, and thoughtful dialogue. In particular, I wish to thank Julia Brumbaugh, Mary Beth Callie, Tom Howe, John Kane, Randy Lumpp, Kelli O’Brien, and Kathy Schaefer for commenting on various drafts. Your insights have made the manuscript much better. Finally, I wish to thank my family for inspiring and supporting my theological endeavors over these many years. My brothers and their families are constant examples of excellence and kindness. To my mother and father I am most grateful, for always valuing education and for teaching me to “remember the wonderful works God has done.”

ABBREVIATIONS Augustine’s writings agon. c. Adim. civ. conf. conl. Max. div. qu. doctr. chr. ep. exp. Gal. Gn. litt. Gn. adv. Man. Io.ev.tr. c. Max. mus. qu. hept. retr. s. Trin. vera rel.

De agone christiano liber unus Contra Adimantum Manichei discipulum liber unus De civitate dei libri viginti duo Confessionum libri tredecim Conlatio cum Maximino arrianorum episcopo De diversis quaestionibus octoginta tribus liberunus De doctrina christiana libri quattuor Epistulae Expositio epistulae ad Galatas liber unus De Genesi ad litteram libri duodecim De Genesi adversus Manicheos libri duo In Iohannis evangelium tractatus CXXIV Contra Maximinum arrianum De musica Quaestiones in heptateuchum Retractationes libri duo Sermones De Trinitate libri quindecim De vera religione liber unus Other primary sources

Ambrose exp. Luc.

Expositio evangelii secundum Lucam

Hilary Trin.

De Trinitate

Irenaeus adv. haer.

Adversus haereses

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abbreviations

Justin dial.

Dialogus cum Tryphone

Novatian Trin.

De Trinitate

Origen hom. Luc.

Homiliae in Lucam

Philo Abr. sac. qu. exod.

De Abrahamo De sacrificiis Abeli et Caini Quaestiones et solutiones in Exodum

Socrates hist. ecc.

Historia ecclesiastica

Sozomen hist. ecc.

Historia ecclesiastica

Tertullian carne adv. Marc. adv. Prax.

De carne Christi Adversus Marcionem Adversus Praxean Other abbreviations

ANF CCSL CP CSEL FC LCL NPNF

Ante-Nicene Fathers Corpus Christianorum Series Latina Corona Patrum Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum Fathers of the Church Loeb Classical Library Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers

abbreviations PL PTS SC WSA

Patrologia Latina Patristiche Texte und Studien Sources Chretiénnes Works of Saint Augustine

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INTRODUCTION What does it mean to see God? This question lies at the heart of early Christian theology and spirituality as a metaphor for knowing God and particularly for being in God’s presence in eternity. At face value it seems puzzling, and perhaps ridiculous, to speak of seeing a God who is consistently described as invisible (1 Tim. 1:17 and 6:16, Col. 1:15, 1 John 4:12). Yet, the scriptures also associate the vision of God with beatitude and hope, promised to the pure in heart (Matt. 5:8) and connected to the transformation of mind and body in the presence of God (1 Cor. 13:12; 1 John 3:1–3). In early Christian exegesis, these promises of vision anchor theological reflection on the Christian life as a process of spiritual growth to transcend the limitations of ordinary bodily experience and know God more intimately. They express Christian hope at its most basic: how can human beings in their frailty and finitude know the eternal, unchanging, invisible God? Yet, this desire for transcendent spiritual experience is also grounded in the body. While many patristic authors express tension between body and spirit, they also tend to affirm the body’s significance: in salvation through incarnation, suffering, death, and resurrection; in the role of sensory experience in coming to know God; in the communication of God through finite, tangible means such as the words of scripture, the people of God, and water, oil, bread, and wine used in worship; and in hope for the resurrection of all the saints. For as much as the hope for spiritual vision suggests a desire to transcend the limitations of the body, patristic authors connect the body to spiritual experience in significant ways. This tension between body and spirit, between the desire for transcendent vision and acknowledgment of the body’s role in facilitating such experience, arises together in the biblical theophany narratives, stories in which human beings like Abraham, Jacob, and Moses see God in a visible form, such as the burning bush or as a human being. As visible, they are in some sense finite, and therefore stand in contrast to the desire for a deeper, transcendent encounter with God. As such, they are paradoxical, representing both the apex of human spiritual encounter with God and the desire for a greater vision, unmediated by finite visible forms.

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As paradoxes, the theophanies are ripe for creative exegesis. They embrace fundamental conflict and tension: God is seen in a visible form, but no one can see God and live (Exod. 33:20). Their subject is often elusive, as the narrative ambiguously identifies the one who appears as an angel, Lord, God, or a human being. They represent the apex of human encounters with God, often occurring at pivotal moments in the history of God’s covenantal relationship with Israel. Yet even Moses, the great leader of ancient Israel who speaks with God face to face as to a friend (Exod. 33:11), desires to have a greater vision of God than he had already received (Exod. 33:18). Most basically for patristic authors, in the theophanies biblical figures see an invisible God. This paradox between the impossibility of the vision of God and its expression in theophany narratives drives patristic interpretation, rooted in the hope of knowing God more intimately. As exemplary stories, the theophanies represent to early Christian authors their fundamental hope, however difficult it might be to realize in this life. Yet, these theophanies are strange and seemingly primitive stories, and patristic interpretation adds yet another dimension for the modern reader. Between the second and fourth centuries, nearly all Christian interpreters of the theophany narratives claim that the Son appeared and was seen in them. This “literal christological reading”—positing not that Christ was symbolized or prefigured in the narratives, but that he actually appeared—pervades interpretations by early Christian authors of various christological and theological views. The claim is jarring, given that the narrative texts do not literally speak of the Son or the Logos or the Christ. To many modern readers, such an interpretation suggests eisegesis, the act of reading a particular doctrine or theological view into a text. Further, it suggests Christian supersessionism, displacing the Jewish scriptures from their context by claiming exclusively Christian beliefs as their proper referent. What motivated this strange line of interpretation? What fundamental exegetical, theological, and spiritual concerns might have contributed to its development? While modern critiques rightly identify the supersessionism inherent in this exegesis, it is also important to note that the literal christological reading was first critiqued on patristic terms by Augustine, who first embraced and then rejected this reading. What, then, contributed to its origins, development, and critique? What might we learn from closer attention to the contexts and factors that motivated this line of interpretation? This study explores the theological and spiritual underpinnings of literal christological interpretation of the biblical theophany narratives,

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asking what contributed both to its pervasive popularity and its critique in the patristic period (ca. 150–400). At heart are both close attention to textual ambiguities and fundamental beliefs about the mediation of revelation and the role of the senses in knowing God. Equally central are the developing christologies—particularly concerning Christ’s relation to the Father—of the second through fourth centuries. This period of enormous change and controversy faced stark discontinuities and divisions, between emerging Christianity and ancient Judaism as well as between different forms of early Christianity. The literal christological interpretation of the theophanies in one way established continuity of belief amid division over the scriptures and christology. For these reasons, this study examines the theophany interpretations of key theological figures, leading up to Augustine’s rejection of the literal christological reading around the year 400. By examining how this interpretation developed and why it was eventually challenged in the trinitarian controversy of the late fourth century, one may gain a greater sense of patristic exegetical methods, theology, and critical use of exegetical traditions. One may also gain a greater understanding of how hope for the vision of God shaped patristic spirituality. Defining the theophanies First, it is helpful to define the key elements of theophany narratives and to identify which narratives are featured most prominently in patristic exegesis. Generally, “theophany” refers to those biblical stories in which God is described as appearing visibly or being seen, usually but not always in a created form. These stories include Hagar’s, Abraham’s, Sarah’s, and Jacob’s visions of God in Genesis; Moses’ various visions of God in Exodus; prophetic visions of God, such as Isaiah’s and Ezekiel’s; and New Testament manifestations such as the dove at Jesus’ baptism, Jesus’ transfiguration, and the tongues of fire at Pentecost. Most prominently, it includes the vision of God in Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh. Often, early Christian authors, including Augustine, will also consider in their discussions of theophanies other signs of God’s presence that are less personal than the examples cited above, such as the pillars of cloud and fire that led Israel in the wilderness. Generally, however, a theophany involves the manifestation of God, usually through a created object or through a human or angelic form, in which God both appears and speaks with those who receive these special revelations. In this study I focus more narrowly

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on theophany events involving ordinary sense perception—biblical figures see and hear God in their normal consciousness through their senses—rather than dreams or ecstatic visions. Primary examples of the theophanies include the appearance of three visitors to Abraham at Mamre (Gen. 18), during which the Lord is said to appear to Abraham (Gen. 18:1); Jacob’s encounter with a man (called an angel in Hosea 12:4) whom he wrestles and by whom he is blessed (Gen. 32); Moses’ vision of a burning bush in which an angel appears and from which God speaks (Exod. 3); and Moses’ vision of God’s back as an accommodation to Moses’ request to see God’s face (Exod. 33). The Mamre and Genesis 32 narratives involve a personal representation of God in human form, while in the Exodus 3 narrative Moses sees the burning bush and hears God’s words. Exodus 33 stands alone as an example of God perceived or “seen” not in a created form; for this reason it often represents the pinnacle of encountering God in early Christian theophany exegesis. These four narratives are the most prominent in this study, since they tend to be interpreted more extensively by patristic authors than other narratives, such as Hagar’s vision of God in Genesis 16. Of these four, the theophanies at Mamre and in Exodus 33 receive the most attention from the early Christian interpreters, who regarded them as the highest revelations of God given to Abraham and to Moses, the two great leaders in the Old Testament. The theophany at Mamre is particularly problematic—and therefore ripe for interpretation—for varying its description of the subject who appears to Abraham: three men, or one lord. The theophany to Moses carries even greater significance in patristic interpretation for its inherent tension between God’s promise of vision and the emphatic denial that “No one shall see [God] and live” (Exod. 33:20). For these reasons, these two narratives typically generate the most influential exegesis by the authors studied here. Bridging discontinuities Why would early Christian authors place Christ into these narratives? It is, to be sure, an audacious claim, particularly given the close textual attention of patristic authors. The biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann, writing of the difficulties inherent in Jewish and Christian shared reading of the scriptures, notes that historical faith, which is rooted in ancient events but also oriented toward contemporary practice and

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meaning, often manages problems of discontinuity through “agile,” daring, and creative interpretations of the scriptures.1 Discontinuities occur when the community experiences a serious disruption, such as the Babylonian Exile; when it incorporates different sources of tradition, such as the New Testament; or when it adapts itself to genuinely new circumstances. These discontinuities threaten to splinter the faith unless overcome by an imaginative act of interpretation grounded in ancient texts and in a larger continuity of belief in God’s providence. Brueggemann writes, That work of interpretive imagination . . . is not made up on the spot but is characteristically grounded in old tradition, in old texts, as though the new interpretive claims voice what was always present in the old text, though not voiced until now and not available, seen, or articulated until this belated moment of an interpretive leap. Thus, the text is read afresh in interpretive imagination, but it is read afresh in a way that the community finds completely credible; consequently, the threat of discontinuity, while still acknowledged and taken seriously, is managed through the large claims of continuity now authoritatively imagined.2

In other words, the discontinuity is bridged by a creative and genuinely new act of exegesis that must be grounded in ancient traditions for it to be authoritative to the community of faith. While Brueggemann makes his argument regarding biblical disruptions such as the Babylonian exile and the Pauline mission to the Gentiles, it sheds light upon early Christian attempts to bridge the discontinuities between the Hebrew scriptures and stories about Jesus, between emphases on Jesus’ humanity and his divinity, and between monotheism and belief in Jesus’ divinity. In particular, theological controversies in the second through the fourth centuries—such as those posed by Maricionism, Adoptionism, Docetism, modalist monarchianism, and Arianism—all address at their core such a discontinuity. In this context, exegetical arguments about Christ’s manifestation in the theophanies attempt to create continuity between the Old Testament and the emerging New Testament, between the ancient faith of Israel and the Christian faith in God’s revelation in Christ, and between Christ’s divinity and the oneness of God.

1 Walter Brueggemann, “Dialogue Between Incommensurate Partners: Prospects for Common Testimony,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 38:4 (2001): sec. II. 2 Brueggemann, “Dialogue Between Incommensurate Partners,” section III.

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In this patristic context of managing discontinuity, particularly among competing christological views, the literal christological reading of the theophanies connects the ancient visible manifestations of God to Israel with the manifestation of God in Jesus, the Word made flesh. It not only asserts the same divine agency and purpose, it also is seen by patristic authors as proof of Christ’s distinct, divine preexistence and his appropriate assumption of visible, tangible forms. Emphasizing Christ’s mediatory role in revealing the Father, this form of interpretation examines how Christ unites the invisible God and visible flesh, thereby accustoming human beings to spiritual vision of transcendent, intellectual, and invisible realities. Two main exegetical strands and Augustine’s critique Two major strands of theophany narrative interpretation emerge in the second and third centuries: the polemical-doctrinal and the spiritual strands. In the former, the authors explore theological definition, particularly concerning developing christology, via arguments against competing beliefs and groups.3 In this context, the christological interpretation of the theophanies raises questions of Christ’s role in mediating for God the Father and Creator in the world. Facing different opponents—Jews, Marcionites, Adoptionists, Docetists, and Sabellians—this strand confronts major discontinuities and ruptures posed by early Christian controversies over the scriptures and Christ’s relation to the Father. The christological reading of the theophanies by authors like Justin Martyr and Novatian posits continuity between the Old and New Testaments by identifying Christ’s agency on behalf of the Creator in both. In this way, the polemical-doctrinal strand defines Christ’s pre-existent identity alongside other christological definitions that establish orthodox and heretical identity in this period. The second strand, however, emerges out of very different concerns. While polemically-motivated exegesis focuses largely on distinctions

3 J. Lebreton divides patristic theophany interpretation into three categories of polemical interpretation: anti-pagan and anti-Jewish arguments for the pre-existence of the divine Son; anti-Marcion arguments for the Son’s revelation in the Old Testament; and anti-Sabellian polemics distinguishing the Son from the Father. See J. Lebreton, “Saint Augustin théologien de la Trinité: son exégèse des théophanies,” in Miscellanea Agostiniana, vol. 2, Studi Agostiniani (Rome: Tipografia Poliglotta Vaticana, 1931), 821–836.

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of identity within the narrative—who is seen in the theophanies?—the spiritual strand focuses on how the theophanies express transformation for the spiritual vision of God—how and why is God seen in the theophanies? By exploring the relation between bodily and spiritual vision, and by distinguishing how God is (and is not) seen in the theophanies, this strand emphasizes Christ’s role in facilitating spiritual vision, particularly as the incarnated image of the Father. Authors like Irenaeus, Tertullian, and Origen tend to emphasize theophanies not as a true spiritual vision of God, but as a sign or promise of a future, eschatological vision. While some of these writings might also address christological polemics, as with Tertullian, the primary focus of this exegetical strand is what significance the theophanies might have for personal, spiritual transformation. In the fourth century trinitarian controversy, competing views of the Son’s relation to the Father come into sharp relief.4 Yet, authors on various sides of the controversy continue to claim that the Son appeared to the patriarchs in the theophanies, including ardent proNicene authors like Hilary and Ambrose. However, these authors’ ideas on divine equality and inseparability began to challenge the longstanding subordinationism inherent in earlier christologies, including the literal christological reading of the theophanies. Thus, while Hilary and Ambrose continue to read the theophanies christologically, their theology begins to challenge the assumptions inherent in the literal christological reading, namely, of the subordinate identity of the Son who mediates for the Father. Augustine’s interpretation of the theophanies, clearly indebted to both Hilary and Ambrose, initially keeps both their literal christological reading and their pro-Nicene theological critiques. However, in only a few years Augustine’s reading shifts as he takes up polemical and spiritual arguments in De Trinitate, bringing the implicit critique of Hilary and Ambrose to explicit expression.

4 G. Legeay and L. J. Van der Lof survey the history of early Christian theophany exegesis, highlighting the common identification of the Son with the theophanies before the council of Nicea (325) and during the fourth century. They argue that Arian exegesis of the theophanies eventually leads Augustine to critique the inherent subordination of such christological identification. See G. Legeay, O.S.B., “L’Ange et les Théophanies dans l’Écriture Sainte d’après la doctrine des Père,” Revue thomiste X (1902): 138–158; 405–424; XI (1903): 46–69; 125–134; and L. J. Van der Lof, “L’exégèse exacte et objective des théophanies de l’Ancien Testament dans le ‘De Trinitate,’” Augustiniana 14 (1964): 485–499.

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Thus, authors prior to Augustine illustrate the development of the literal christological reading, which Augustine critiques in his middle and later works, starting with De Trinitate (ca. 400). How and why did Augustine challenge this traditional reading, and to what effect? Augustine’s interpretation draws upon some ideas of earlier patristic authors, particularly Ambrose’s emphasis on seeing God under a visible form and not in God’s own substance.5 Yet, his reading reconfigures the relation between the theophanies and the triune God’s activity in the world, especially in the incarnation.6 Likely prompted by critique of Homoian subordination of the Son to the Father, Augustine argues that the theophany narratives do not indicate that the Son appeared; yet, he also asserts that they testify in some way to the incarnation, that is, to the salvation that God works through finite, tangible, and yet transcendent means. Attending to divine equality and inseparability, Augustine also argues that any of the three persons of the Trinity could be signified in theophanies. In this reading, the theophanies are signs that indicate God’s use of created things to work salvation and spiritual transformation. As such, Augustine’s theophany narrative interpretation not only challenges the traditional patristic reading, it also affirms a spirituality rooted in the body even as it seeks to transcend the body’s limitations.

5 Basil Studer traces Augustine’s use of sources, particularly Ambrose, in ep. 147, which explores whether human beings can see God. Studer notes the anti-Photinian and anti-Arian context of Ambrose’s key idea that God “appears” in creation by assuming a form, and therefore the recipients of theophanies and angelic visions did not truly see the divine nature. See Studer, Zur Theophanie-Exegese Augustins: Untersuchung zu einem Ambrosius-Zitat in der Schrift De Videndo Deo (Ep. 147), Studia Anselmiana 59 (Rome: Herder, 1971). 6 Jean-Louis Maier addresses Augustine’s interpretation of the theophanies in the context of his understanding of the divine missions, including both the visible and invisible missions of the Son and the Spirit in Augustine’s thought. Examining the Arian context of trinitarian theology in the fourth century (ch. 1), as well as Augustine’s use of Greek and Latin sources (chs. 2 and 3), Maier focuses particularly on how the equality of the Trinity is upheld in Augustine’s theology. He argues that Augustine’s predecessors identified the theophanies with the Son precisely to safeguard his equality and consubstantiality with the Father, while Augustine shifts away from such interpretations in light of Arian theophany exegesis that subordinated the Son to the Father. Thus in Maier’s reading, Augustine’s “orthodox” predecessors have the same goal as Augustine, but their theophany exegesis differs as required by different theological controversies. See Jean-Louis Maier, Les missions divines selon saint Augustin, Paradosis: Études de littérature et de théologie anciennes 16 (Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires Fribourg Suisse, 1960).

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Overview of the chapters This study divides into two parts: the development of the literal christological reading and Augustine’s critique of it. In the first part, the opening chapter explores the origins and development of the polemical-doctrinal strand of interpretation, looking at the similarities between Justin and Novatian’s readings, the place of polemic in early Christian theological discourse, and the basis for Justin and Novatian’s association of Christ with an angel. The second chapter delineates the spiritual strand, comparing the interpretations of Irenaeus, Tertullian, Origen, and Gregory of Nyssa, as well as ancient theories of vision and their application in patristic discussion of spiritual vision. In the third chapter, these two strands of interpretation converge in various fourth-century readings, even as the pro-Nicene theology of Hilary and Ambrose challenges the subordinationism inherent in earlier christologies. In the second part, I consider the theological foundations of Augustine’s challenge to the traditional interpretation of the theophanies, examining his ideas on vision, signs, and Christ in his early use of the literal christological reading (chapter four). With this foundation, I ask how and why Augustine changes his reading of the theophanies in De Trinitate (chapter five), considering his polemic against Homoian theology, his exegetical strategies, and his focus on vision and transformation in a trinitarian and incarnational context. Finally, the sixth chapter explores some of the theological implications of Augustine’s exegesis as he applies his refined theories of vision and of signs to the theophany narratives. In particular, I examine implications for knowing God in this life and seeing God spiritually in the next. This study explores the logic and sophistication with which patristic authors addressed the paradox, ambiguity, and strangeness of the theophany narratives. My purpose is to understand how and why the literal christological reading, so foreign to modern methods of interpretation, persuaded early Christian authors, and how Augustine challenged it using similar exegetical criteria and methods. In so doing, I hope to illustrate how the theophany narratives nurtured the early Christian hope of seeing God, transforming and transcending human vision.

PART ONE

WHY THE SON? THE FOUNDATIONS AND DEVELOPMENT OF LITERAL CHRISTOLOGICAL THEOPHANY EXEGESIS

CHAPTER ONE

THE POLEMICAL-DOCTRINAL STRAND: IDENTITY AND MEDIATION Introduction Literal christological interpretation of the theophanies emerges prominently in polemical contexts, in which arguments over God’s action in the world, Christ’s role as divine mediator, and the status of the Old Testament scriptures define the developing Christian boundaries in the second and third centuries. While these concerns of Christian identity overlap with spiritual concerns, polemical writings display both a distinctive pattern of exegesis and distinctive themes. Although the opponents change—and indeed, polemical arguments often concern internal conflicts over identity1—together authors of the polemical strand establish a pattern of christological theophany narrative exegesis that will influence fourth-century exegesis in pro-Nicene polemical contexts, including Augustine. Two authors, Justin Martyr and Novatian, establish a clear, distinctive pattern that defines this type of polemical exegesis. While they write in different theological contexts, each turns to the theophany narratives for proof of their claims about Christ’s identity and work. Further, each uses an intertextual reading of the Genesis theophany narratives and, to a lesser extent, Exodus narratives to argue for the

1 On charges of heresy and definitions of identity, see J. Rebecca Lyman, “Reckonings in Heresy and Orthodoxy Ancient and Modern,” Anglican Theological Review 74:1 (1992): 125–132, and “A Topography of Heresy: Mapping the Rhetorical Creation of Arianism,” in Arianism after Arius: Essays on the Development of the Fourth Century Trinitarian Conflicts, ed. Michel R. Barnes and Daniel H. Williams (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1993), 45–62; Daniel Boyarin, Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadephia: University of Pennsylvania, 2004). Christine Shepardson argues that the anti-Jewish rhetoric in early Christian authors like Ephrem and the Cappadocians reflects their internal Christian debates with Arians and Eunomians, respectively; see her articles “ ‘Exchanging Reed for Reed’: Mapping Contemporary Heretics onto Biblical Jews in Ephrem’s Hymns on Faith,” Hugoye: Journal of Syriac Studies 5:1 (2002), par. 1, and “Defining the Boundaries of Orthodoxy: Eunomius in the AntiJewish Polemic of His Cappadocian Opponents,” Church History 76:4 (2007): 700.

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Son’s distinct identity as the one who reveals the Father, acting like an angel by appearing on the Father’s behalf. Their emphasis on distinctions of identity within narratives and Christ’s angelic work form the basis for their argument: the Son appeared before his incarnation for the purpose of communicating the will of the Father. In their interpretation, Christ’s manifestation in the theophanies reveals his identity as divine and yet distinct from the Father, and his angelic work in the theophanies reveals his mediatory role in the world. The place of polemics Before examining how Justin, Tertullian, and Novatian read the theophanies, it is useful first to consider why ancient Christian authors turned to the theophanies in polemical contexts and how this context shaped their interpretation in ways distinct from the spiritual interpretations explored in the second chapter of this study. Polemical exegesis repeatedly looked to the theophanies for christological definition against varying opponents: Jews, Marcionites, Adoptionists, Sabellians, Arians, and Homoians. As a result, the sum effect of this strand of exegesis emphasized particular texts, methods, and themes when reading the theophanies, even as the specific polemical opponents changed from the second to the fourth century. Recent scholarship has illuminated the role of polemics, particularly anti-Jewish polemic, in developing concepts of orthodoxy and heresy in the second through fourth centuries.2 Rejecting the traditional view that heresies arose and diverged from already established orthodox Christianity, these scholars assert that the ideas of heresy and orthodoxy developed together, and indeed that creation of ortho-

2 Alain Le Boulluec, La notion d’hérésie dans la littérature grecque IIe–IIIe siècles, 2 vols. (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1985); Lyman, “A Topography of Heresy”; Virginia Burrus, The Making of a Heretic: Gender, Authority, and the Priscillianist Controversy (Berkeley: University of California, 1995), 15; Averil Cameron, “Jews and Heretics—A Category Error?” in The Ways That Never Parted, ed. Adam Becker and Annette Yoshiko Reed, Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism 95 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 345–360; Christine Shepardson, Anti-Judaism and Christian Orthodoxy: Ephrem’s Hymns in Fourth-Century Syria, North American Patristics Society Patristic Monograph Series 20 (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America, 2008).

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doxy depends upon a negative conception of heresy.3 In this light, the polemical contexts of early Christian (second and third century) theophany narrative interpretation indicate a strong concern for identity, both in defining the Son as the subject of the theophanies and in distinguishing groups by their christological beliefs. Polemics, especially in doctrinal debates, create distance between the groups identified with orthodoxy and heresy.4 In such a context, applying the label of heresy excludes that belief or group from normative Christian status, and it thereby defines one’s own position as normative. Thus, it is important to understand how and why polemicists define their own beliefs as well as the beliefs of their opponents. In the case of theophany narrative exegesis, their christological claims, while rooted in scriptural interpretation, are instrumental in defining doctrinal claims about the Son’s and the Father’s activity in the world, in a context of diverse and developing Christian beliefs. In turn, theophany exegesis plays a part in establishing normative beliefs about Christ’s nature, identity, and purpose. Early Christian authors who engaged in theological polemic commonly used two strategies, heresy genealogies and locating the mean between two extremes. The first strategy, creating a heresy genealogy, effectively mapped contemporary beliefs onto older ones, thereby stabilizing them through an association with an already known belief.5 For example, in 340s Athanasius labelled varying opponents as Arian,6 and in the mid-third century Novatian of Rome accuses his opponents of embodying the “sacreligious heresy of Sabellius” (Trin. 12: Sabelliana haeresis sacrilega corporatur). By connecting their opponent’s beliefs to older, recognized, and controversial christologies, these theologians contrasted the truth of their claims alongside a lineage of falsehood. Second-century Christian authors like Justin and Irenaeus, who are regarded as the first to develop concepts of heresy

3 Marcel Simon, “From Greek Hairesis to Christian Heresy,” in Early Christian Literature and the Classical Intellectual Tradition: In Honorem Robert M. Grant, ed. William R. Schoedel and Robert L. Wilken, Théologie Historique 54 (Paris: Éditions Beauchesne, 1979), 106; Burrus, The Making of a Heretic, p. 171, n. 50. 4 Christine Shepardson, “Anti-Jewish Rhetoric and Intra-Christian Conflict in the Sermons of Ephrem Syrus,” Studia Patristica 35 (2001): 506. 5 Lyman, “A Topography of Heresy,” 45–47. 6 Lewis Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), ch. 5.

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and orthodoxy in Christianity, borrowed this technique from Greek philosophical writings critiquing other philosophical schools.7 Once the genealogy is established, the contemporary opponents are reframed in terms that typically reflect the ideas of the polemicist more than the self-understanding of the opponent.8 In addition, polemics could conflate several groups (such as Jews, pagans, and Christian heretics) into a more cohesive group, stabilizing them through mutual associations of error. This is especially true of anti-Jewish rhetoric, in which Christian opponents are compared to Jews, usually for what their polemical opponent regards as deficient christology. For example, the fourthcentury pro-Nicene Ephrem of Syria compared Arians to Judaizers, arguing that Arians harmed the body of Christ and thereby caused Christ to suffer another passion.9 In a similar way, Justin’s polemical argument in the Dialogue with Trypho, a presentation of Justin’s debate with a group of Jews over interpretation of the scriptures, likely reflects Justin’s argument for a particular christology, perhaps against Marcion and Adoptionists, more than an effort to persuade Jews to accept Jesus as the Christ.10 In the other polemical strategy, authors situate orthodoxy as the mean between two heretical extremes. Both Novatian and the later fourth-century author Gregory of Nyssa use this technique, illustrating the virtue of their doctrine as an alternative to two equally dangerous extremes.11 Here the mean position represents what is rational and sane, in contrast to often heated polemical rhetoric or the perceived distortions of extremes. Both techniques become more popular in the Christian doctrinal polemical writings of the fourth century (see

7

Lyman, “Reckonings in Heresy and Orthodoxy,” 126. Ibid. 9 Shepardson, “Exchanging Reed for Reed,” pars. 10–11. 10 Oskar Skarsaune, The Proof from Prophecy: A Study in Justin Martyr’s ProofText Tradition: Text-Type, Provenance, Theological Profile, Supplements to Novum Testamentum 56 (Leiden: Brill, 1987), 208–210, 431. Daniel Boyarin (Border Lines, 38) argues that Justin intended to deny the Logos to the Jews, not persuade them, and thereby define Christian belief in distinction to Jewish belief. However, Craig Allert disagrees with C. H. Cosgrove that Justin wrote for a Christian audience, contending that Justin’s references to missionary activity and concern for the conversion of a Jewish remnant indicate that he wrote primarily for a Jewish audience, perhaps combined with some Christians (Craig D. Allert, Revelation, Truth, Canon, and Interpretation: Studies in Justin Martyr’s “Dialogue with Trypho,” Supplements to Vigiliae Christianae 64 [Leiden: Brill, 2002], 54–61). 11 Lyman, “A Topography of Heresy,” 60; Shepardson, “Defining the Boundaries of Orthodoxy,” 718. 8

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chapter three), when the issue of the Son’s subordination or equality with the Father—a major theme in theophany interpretation—is the primary issue at stake. Together, these features of polemical doctrinal discourse shape the kind of exegesis, and its specific conclusions, that emerge in this first strand of interpretation. Obviously, these interpretations are for one view and against others, just as they support one group and reject others. They tend to define christological doctrine through a dialectical process, contrasting their beliefs with those of their opponents, and through careful attention to details of God’s identity in scriptural texts. While their concerns are rooted in fundamental beliefs about how God interacts with the world, their exegesis is much less focused on the spiritually transformative implications of the theophanies, either for the original recipient or for the reader. Instead, they focus on identifying and defining precisely who this God is. In turn, the theophanies provide the perfect occasion for distinguishing contrasting beliefs: how God enters the world and yet remains unchanged, how the Son is both like and distinct from the Father, and how God’s revelation to Israel continues and changes with God’s revelation in Jesus. In short, in polemical writings the themes of establishing identity through marking out distinctions take central focus. Case 1: Justin The second-century author Justin Martyr (d. ca. 165) first takes up the relevance of the Genesis and Exodus theophanies to christological polemic. An adult convert to Christianity, Justin likely was born in the late first or early second century in the Roman colony of Flavia Neapolis in Syrian Palestine (1 Apol. 1.1), and in adulthood he traveled widely, eventually to Rome, where he was martyred for refusing to sacrifice to the gods (Acts of Justin). Prior to his conversion he was well-educated in philosophy, including Stoicism and Platonism, and as a Christian he integrated biblical beliefs about Christ with philosophical arguments, particularly in his apologies or defenses of Christian beliefs to a Roman audience. Most notably, Justin’s theology posits Christ, the Son of God, as the pre-existent Logos in whom all who live according to reason partake (1 Apol. 46), who is second in rank to the Creator (1 Apol. 13) and who became incarnate in Jesus (1 Apol. 63).

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Yet, for all of the significance of Justin’s integration of biblical faith and philosophical categories, his theophany exegesis emerges in a less philosophical work.12 In his Dialogue with Trypho,13 Justin presents a stylized debate between himself and a Jew named Trypho, accompanied by several other Jews, in which Justin argues from the Old Testament scriptures for the distinct and personal divine existence of the Son of God who became incarnate as Jesus.14 In particular, he argues to Trypho’s group that Jesus is the true Messiah predicted by the prophets who fulfills, and thereby abrogates, the Law. Thus in the Dialogue Justin’s arguments are extensively exegetical, using the scriptures as a source that Trypho and his companions can accept. His exegesis, as well as the interpretations presented by Trypho, likely respond to real second-century exegetical debates. In a number of places Trypho’s exegesis resembles that of the first-century Jewish exegete Philo,15 and Justin’s counter arguments show evidence of familiarity with both rabbinic exegesis and Philo,16 providing a Christian rejoinder to a contemporary Jewish debate.17

12 While Justin expresses his philosophical ideas in the prologue of Dialogue with Trypho (1–9), most of the work deals with scriptural arguments about the law and Christ. 13 Dialogus cum Tryphone, ed. Miroslav Marcovich, Patristiche Texte und Studien 47 (Berlin, New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1997). Unless otherwise noted, English quotations are from Writings of Saint Justin Martyr, ed. and trans. Thomas B. Falls, FC 6 (New York: Christian Heritage, Inc., 1948). 14 While the debate is authored by Justin, some scholars think Justin did have an encounter with a Jew named Trypho sometime after the Bar Kochba uprising (ca. 135). The Dialogue was likely composed between 155–161. See Falls, Writings of Saint Justin Martyr, 139. 15 See, for example, n. 16, 19, 24, 26, and 27 in this chapter. I have noted where interpretations in the Dialogue bear similarity to Philo, to illustrate Philo’s probable influence on Justin’s perception of Jewish exegesis. 16 The scholarly debate over whether Justin was influenced by Philo is considerable. Scholars tend to focus on topics like the similarity of Justin’s doctrine of the Logos with that of Philo, and on such questions scholars draw vastly different conclusions. See David Runia, Philo in Early Christian Literature (Assen: Van Gorcum; Minneapolis: Fortress, 1993), 97–105. On the theophanies, however, Oscar Skarsaune argues that “if there is any influence from Philo on Justin’s treatment of the theophanies, it is at best distant, and mainly operative in some general modes of argument rather than in concrete exegesis of texts. In the latter respect, Justin exhibits a marked independence of Philo, often directly contradicting or ignoring Philonic exegesis” (Skarsaune, The Proof from Prophecy, 423–424). Perhaps Justin’s “direct contradicting” of Philo on theophany exegesis is evidence of his familiarity with Philonic interpretation in the Dialogue with Trypho, his most extensive theophany exegesis. 17 Alan F. Segal, The Other Judaisms of Late Antiquity, Brown Judaic Studies 127 (Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1987), x; Boyarin, Border Lines, ch. 5.

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When Justin turns to the theophanies, it is to respond to Trypho’s request for scriptural proof of another God besides the Creator (dial. 50, 55).18 In answering, Justin addresses Trypho’s concerns explicitly but other Christian arguments implicitly: in arguing for Christ’s divinity, Justin acknowledges that some Christians believe that Jesus is the Christ but is merely human (ch. 48), an allusion to Adoptionists. He also argues for the harmony and joint activity of Christ and the Creator, one in intention (ch. 56), against Marcionite claims that the Creator is different from the Father of Christ and that the Hebrew scriptures themselves do not reveal Christ. Justin’s argument, then, emerges in a context of christological debate, which he addresses by examining how the scriptural narratives, especially those of Genesis, identify someone who is truly God yet is distinct from the one whom Trypho considers “the Creator of all things” (τὸν ποιητὴν τῶν ὅλων; dial. 55). Thus Justin forms his argument by reinterpreting biblical texts familiar to Trypho, saying that his interpretations of the texts at hand “may seem unusual to you, although you read them every day” (ξέναι δέ σοι δόξουσιν εἶναι, καίπερ καθ᾽ ἡμέραν ἀναγινωσκόμεναι ὑφʼ ὑμῶν; dial. 55). His argument focuses tightly upon the terms used in the narratives to identify the agent of the theophanies: often “angel,” but also “Lord” and “God” (ἄγγελος, κύριος, θεός). The Genesis and Exodus narratives of the visitations at Mamre and at Sodom (Genesis 18–19), Jacob’s dreams and encounters with an angel or God (Genesis 28, 31, and 32) and Moses’ encounters with God at the burning bush (Exodus 3) form the basis of Justin’s argument. All of these narratives involve some variation in the description of the divine subject, often proceeding from calling the agent “angel” to “God” in the same narrative. While most interpreters of these narratives, Christian and Jewish, note this problem of the changing identity of the subject, Justin focuses extensively upon it to support his argument for personal distinctions in the divinity.

18 While Justin often refers to God as the Creator and Father of all, in both of Trypho’s requests for proof of another God, Trypho contrasts this second God with the Creator and does not mention the Father. Perhaps this suggests a second, antiMarcionite aspect of Justin’s argument, that the true distinctions of divinity are not between the Creator and the Father, but between the Son and the Creator, and further that these distinctions concern number but not intention.

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Mamre and Sodom: The pattern In the Dialogue, Justin’s first treatment of a theophany establishes an exegetical pattern that characterizes his subsequent treatment of other theophany narratives. Further, in both method and themes, the pattern seems to influence other authors in their polemical interpretations of theophanies, such as Novatian (ch. 1) and Hilary (ch. 3). For these reasons, it is helpful to examine Justin’s basic pattern in closer detail, to discern how basic elements are re-used in new polemical contexts. In particular, these elements include shifting descriptions of identity, intertextual methods, and a functional angel christology in which Christ performs the work of an angel by communicating on the Father’s behalf. Justin begins his discussion of the theophanies with Genesis 18, the theophany in which God speaks with Abraham and Sarah by the oaks of Mamre. Although the narrative begins with the statement that “God appeared to Abraham” (ὤφθη δὲ αὐτῷ ὁ θεὸς, Gen. 18:1), the story is about not one but three visitors who eat with Abraham at Mamre. The narrative shifts in its descriptions of the visitor(s): Abraham sees three men and bows to them (Gen. 18:2), yet he addresses them with the singular “lord” (κύριε, 18:3) and with the second person singular pronoun (σου, 18:3). Thus at the outset the narrative is ambiguous regarding both the identity of the visitor(s)—men or lord?—as well as the number of visitors—one or three? To further complicate the narrative, the number of the subject(s) again changes when the three men ask for Sarah (18:9), but after she comes it is the Lord who speaks to her and promises her a son (18:10–15). Because the narrative itself is ambiguous, Justin supplements the text of Genesis 18 with other biblical texts in order to come to a clearer understanding of the identity of the agent(s) of the theophany. As a starting point, Justin agrees with Trypho’s interpretation that the three men (τρεῖς ἄνδρες, Gen. 18:2) who come and eat with Abraham are angels.19 While the Mamre narrative itself (Genesis 18:1–33) does

19 Philo understands the visitors at Mamre to be angels (Abr. 116–118) who appear in human form (Abr. 107), although they themselves are incorporeal (Abr. 118). Yet elsewhere he writes that one of the three is the “truly Existent” (Abr. 142–143), accompanied by God’s two highest “potencies,” sovereignty and goodness (De sacrificiis Abeli et Caini 59). Thus the three were seen as three separate “aspects” by the eye of the soul, not of the body (sac. 59: ἡνίκα ὁ θεὸς δορυφορούμενος ὑπὸ δυεῖν τῶν

ἀνωτάτω δυνάμεων ἀρχῆς τε αὖ καὶ ἀγαθότητος εἷς ὤν ὁ μέσος τριττὰς φαντασίας ἐνειργάζετο τῇ ὁρατικῇ ψυχῇ, ὧν ἑκάστη μεμέτρηται μὲν οὐδαμῶς). Here there is some

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not use the term “angel,” the text continues in Genesis 19:1 with two of the visitors on their way to Sodom: “The two angels came to Sodom in the evening” (ἦλθον δὲ οἱ δύο ἄγγελοι εἰς Σόδομα ἑσπέρας, LXX). Justin and Trypho both assume that the later passages of scripture clarify the earlier ambiguous passages, and in this case both give priority to the Genesis 19:1 description of the visitors as angels who announce and accomplish God’s work, making the Lord manifest. Where Justin and Trypho differ, and where the heart of Justin’s argument lies, is in the identity of the third visitor as not merely an angel but also God, specifically as a divine being who has an angelic mission. Justin asserts the divinity of the third visitor by referring to later verses in Genesis that recall God as active at Mamre. For example, when Sarah finally delivers Isaac (Gen. 21:2), God (θεός, 21:12) visits them according to the promise made at Mamre (εἱς ὥρας ἀνακάμψω πρός σε, καὶ τῇ Σάρρᾳ υἱός, Gen. 18:10). Thus a later text fills out details of Genesis 18:9–15, where the Lord (κύριος) makes the promise. Therefore, according to Justin, the Genesis 21 fulfillment of the Genesis 18 promise specifies that God, not merely an angel, spoke to Sarah and Abraham at Mamre. This much of Justin’s interpretation demonstrates how he reads intertextually and that he relies upon the precise wording of the narratives to reveal God’s identity. In Justin’s reading of Genesis 18, 19, and 21 together, three “men” visit Abraham and Sarah at Mamre, two of whom are really angels (Gen. 19:1) and one of whom is Lord (Gen. 18:10) and God (Gen. 21:12). They are called men in the narrative because they appeared in human form.20

convergence between Philo’s and Justin’s exegesis: both understand the three visitors to be God accompanied by two beings who work God’s will on earth (Abr. 143), who appeared in human form. Further, Philo asserts strongly that God’s essence cannot be seen as such (qu. Exod. 2.47), but God is seen only under different aspects. Philo’s exegesis of the theophany to Moses in Exodus 33 complements his interpretation of Genesis 18. For in the Exodus 33 theophany, Philo asserts that God cannot be seen in God’s nature (De mutatione nominum 8–10), although things below “the Existent” can be seen. Therefore Moses can only see what lies in God’s wake, since God lies beyond the powers of human apprehension (De posteritate Caini 169). As with Irenaeus, God is seen not in God’s self, but in God’s deeds in the world (ibid.; cf. Iren. adv. haer. 4.20). Further, the story shows Moses’ desire to understand what God is in God’s essence, not with the eyes of the body but of the mind (De specialibus legibus 1.41–50). As will be shown in chapter two of this study, many early Christian authors have similar features in their theophany exegesis. 20 God appeared to Abraham on earth in the “form of a man, as did the two angels who accompanied him” (dial. 56: ἐν ἰδέᾳ ἀνδρὸς ὁμοίως τοῖς σὺν αὐτῷ παραγενομένοις δυσὶν ἀγγέλοις φαινόμενον τῷ ʼΑβραάμ).

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In perhaps the most critical part of his interpretation of the Mamre theophany, Justin also holds that the narrative distinguishes between the Creator and this God who visits Sarah and Abraham. For Justin, the scriptures describe “another God and Lord under the Creator of all things, who is also called an Angel, because he proclaims to human beings whatever the Creator of the world—above whom there is no other God—wishes to reveal to them.”21 Therefore, Justin argues that in order to understand the true identity of God in the Old Testament, one must distinguish between God the Father and Creator of all things and another God who announces the Father’s will to humanity, who is subordinate to the Father and acts in harmony with the Father’s will. According to Justin, these two are distinct in number but not in intention (ἀριθμῷ δὲ λέγω, ἀλλὰ οὐ γνώμῃ; dial. 56). He sees this distinction primarily in the subordinate’s work as messenger and executor of the Father’s will, and in the Father’s location above the heavens, not on earth. Justin bases his distinction between this “angelic,” subordinate, yet true God and the Creator upon another passage in Genesis, supplemented with other biblical texts addressing distinctions of divine identity. Continuing his reading of the Mamre theophany to the Sodom narrative (Gen. 19), Justin emphasizes Genesis 19:24: “The Lord rained upon Sodom and Gomorrah brimstone and fire from the Lord out of heaven” (Κύριος ἔβρεξεν ἐπὶ Σόδομα καὶ Γομόρρα θεῖον καὶ πῦρ παρὰ κυρίου ἐκ τοῦ οὐρανοῦ; dial. 56). For Justin, the two mentions of “lord” are not simply redundant but specify two lords, especially since the second “lord” is distinguished from the first by the qualifying phrase “out of heaven.” Thus in the Mamre and Sodom narratives, the Lord whom Lot addresses (Gen. 19:18)22 is the same Lord and God who tells Abraham that he will go down to Sodom and Gomorrah (Gen. 18:21) and destroy the towns if he finds fewer than ten righteous people (Gen. 18:32). This Lord and God is distinct from the Lord above the heavens (Gen. 19:24), who does not descend to earthly cities but rather “always remains in the heavens.” This God “whom we

21 dial. 56: ἐστὶ καὶ λέγεται θεὸς καὶ κύριος ἕτερος παρὰ τὸν ποιητὴν τῶν ὅλων, ὅς καὶ ἄγγελος καλεῖται, διὰ τὸ ἀγγελλειν τοῖς ἀνθρώποις ὅσαπερ βούλεται αὐτοῖς ἀγγεῖλαι ὁ τῶν ὅλων ποιητής, ὑπερ ὅν ἄλλος θεὸς οὐκ ἔστι. 22 In the LXX text that Justin quotes, Lot’s address is the singular κύριε, while the

Hebrew text has “lords.” The plural here would indicate that Lot was speaking to the two angels.

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consider Creator of all and Father has never been seen by anyone and has never conversed directly with anyone” (ἄλλου, τοῦ ἐν τοῖς ὑπερουρανίοις ἀεὶ μένοντος καὶ οὐδενὶ ὀφθέντος ἤ ὁμιλήσαντος δἰ ἑαυτοῦ ποτε, ὅν ποιητὴν τῶν ὅλων καὶ πατέρα νοοῦμεν; dial. 56, translation mine). One God and Lord is the messenger and agent of the other, and thus the former descends to earth and deals with human beings, while the other is not to be located in some small space but always remains in the heavens. Building upon this “Lord from Lord” distinction, Justin brings in other biblical texts that also seem to name two Lords or two Gods: “The Lord said to my Lord: Sit at my right hand, until I make your enemies your footstool” (Ps. 109:1, LXX) and “Your throne, O God, is forever and ever . . . You have loved justice and hated iniquity; therefore God, your God, has anointed you” (Ps. 44:7–8, LXX).23 While these texts from the Psalms become commonplace in patristic christological exegesis, Justin provides an early example of discerning the identity of God through close attention to how God is variously named in the scriptures. Although his emphasis on “Lord from Lord” and “God from God” verses might seem like a superficial proof for a confession of God the Father and God the Son in the Old Testament, it demonstrates his conviction that small details in the texts are meaningful sources for clarifying ambiguities through intertextual exegesis. Altogether, in his first treatment of a theophany narrative, Justin creates an exegetical pattern that (1) emphasizes the theophanies to Abraham in Genesis, (2) focuses on textual ambiguities regarding the identity of the subject of the theophany, (3) resolves the ambiguities through intertextual comparison to other biblical passages that seem to distinguish two divine subjects, and (4) asserts the distinct and personal divine existence of the Son who acts as a messenger or angel for the Father in the world prior to his incarnation. These basic elements support Justin’s primary argument that the Son’s manifestations in the Old Testament scriptures reveal both his and the Father’s distinct identities, and that an interpreter of scripture needs to understand these distinctions correctly to make sense of the narratives.

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The texts in the Dialogue read: λέγει ὁ κύριος τῷ κυρίῳ μου Κάθου ἐκ δεξιῶν μου, ἕως ἄν θῶ τοὺς ἐχθρούς σου ὑποπόδιον τῶν ποδῶν σου (Ps. 109:1) and ὁ θρόνος σου, ὁ θεὸς, εἰς τὸν αἰῶνα τοῦ αἰῶνος . . . ἠγάπησας δικαιοσύνην καὶ ἐμίσησας ἀνομίαν· διὰ τοῦτο ἔχρισέ σε ὁ θεός, ὁ θεός σου (Ps. 44:7–8).

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Other theophanies To a large extent, Justin uses aspects of this basic exegetical pattern when he looks at other theophany narratives. As with the Mamre narrative, his primary goal in the Dialogue with Trypho is to show that the puzzling descriptions of God’s manifestation in the world can only be solved with reference to Christ as God’s divine messenger. For example, Justin reinforces his claim that the subject of the theophanies is both God and an angel with a brief intertextual reading of theophanies to Jacob and to Moses. The theophanies to Jacob consist of two dreams (Gen. 28 and 31) and his wrestling encounter with a man (Gen. 32). In Jacob’s dream of spotted goats, an angel speaks to Jacob, whom Jacob addresses as “Lord” and who later identifies himself as “the God who appeared to you in Bethel” (ἐγώ εἰμι ὁ θεὸς ὁ ὀφθείς σοι ἐν τόπῳ θεοῦ; Gen. 31:10–13). Thus one who is angel and Lord and God speaks to Jacob, who earlier spoke to him in a dream at Bethel (Gen. 28:10–17). In the earlier dream God says to him, “I am the Lord, the God of Abraham your father and of Isaac” (ἐγώ εἰμι κύριος ὁ θεὸς ᾿Αβραάμ, τοῦ πατρός σου, καὶ ᾿Ισαάκ; Gen. 28:13). That in Genesis 31 God is identified as the one who appeared at Bethel links together the two passages, reaffirming that the God who speaks to Abraham and to Isaac and now to Jacob (Gen. 28) is angel and Lord and God (Gen. 31). Further, in Genesis 32 Jacob wrestles with a man (ἄνθρωπος) who later tells him “You have prevailed with God” (ἐνίσχυσας μετὰ τοῦ θεοῦ; Gen. 32:29, LXX) and Jacob claims to have seen God face to face (εἶδον γὰρ θεὸν πρόσωπον πρὸς πρόσωπον; Gen. 32:31, LXX). Thus God again appeared to Jacob, this time not in a dream but in tangible form, specifically, in human form. For Justin, this theophany is further evidence that the God who is the Creator’s messenger appeared to the patriarchs in an assumed form. Each of these theophany stories adds to the pattern of revelation that when God appears to human beings, it is a subordinate God announcing and enacting the Creator’s will. While Justin’s argument to Trypho slowly progresses from the existence of another God to this God’s pre-existence to his incarnation as Jesus, clearly by “another God” he means the Christ, the Logos and Son of God. Thus, as Justin works through the theophany narratives, he establishes his case for the Son’s manifestation to the patriarchs in created form. Likewise, the burning bush theophany to Moses (Exod. 3) calls the same agent angel and God and Lord, according to Justin. Trypho

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and his companions hold that in Exodus 3 two agents act together: an angel appeared in the burning bush, but God actually spoke with Moses.24 Once again, Trypho agrees that God appeared, but not that God appeared as an angel and not that this God is any other than the Creator. Justin’s response is twofold: first, that only one person who is both God and angel appeared, and second, that this is confirmed by the similar appearances to Jacob, Abraham, and Lot of one who is angel and God. For the first point, Justin emphasizes Exodus 3:16, “The Lord, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has appeared to me [Moses]” (κύριος ὁ θεὸς τῶν πατέρων ὑμῶν ὤφθη μοι, ὁ θεὸς ʼΑβραὰμ καὶ ὁ θεὸς ʼΙσαὰκ καὶ ὁ θεὸς ʼΙακώβ; dial. 59). If the narrative earlier says that an angel appeared to Moses in the burning bush (Exod. 3:2) and it clearly describes God speaking to him (Exod. 3:4), then according to verse 16 the angel who appeared is also the God who spoke. Once again, for Justin the pattern holds that Christ is the one who appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as their God.25 Further, the mention of the patriarchs in verse 16 recalls the theophanies of Genesis. Justin repeats his earlier emphasis on how an angel who also is God and Lord appeared to Jacob, and how at Sodom the Lord worked with the “Lord out of heaven” to destroy the city. For Justin, the Genesis theophanies establish the basic pattern of God’s visible manifestation on earth: God the Father and Creator of all is invisible and remains in the heavens, but another God and Lord subject to the Father descends to earth and announces God’s will to humanity. Because the purpose of the theophanies is to announce God’s will, the agent of the theophanies is described as an angel. Once Justin establishes this basic pattern of divine manifestation in the Mamre and Sodom theophanies, he deploys it in his exegesis of other theophanies. This kind of progressive interpretation of the theophany narratives, in which the earlier narratives establish the basis of the interpretation and the later narratives clarify earlier ambiguities, will appear in other early church authors, most notably in Hilary.

24 This interpretation echoes how Philo distinguishes between the angel who appears to Moses and God who speaks (Abr. 1.64–84). 25 For more of Justin’s christological interpretation of the burning bush theophany, see 1 Apology 62–63, where Justin reiterates his claim that Christ, not the Father, is the angel and God who spoke to Moses from the bush. Justin’s interpretation is not substantially different from that of the Dialogue, but perhaps more explicitly christological.

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Summary: Justin’s contributions Justin restates his interpretation of the theophany narratives more explicitly at the close of the Dialogue (ch. 126–127), but all the major elements of his interpretation are present in chapters 56–60. In sum, he argues that Christ the Son of God is the God and angel who was sent by the Father to the patriarchs. Thus in the theophanies the patriarchs did not see the invisible, ineffable Father, but God’s Son. While the end result of Justin’s exegesis focuses on the appearance of the Son, it is important to draw out several aspects of Justin’s method. 1. Justin’s exegesis of the theophany narratives is primarily about the identity of the one who appeared, because his overarching purpose is to argue for the personal distinction of the Son in the Old Testament. Therefore his exegesis centers on the precise wording of the descriptions of the subjects of the theophanies: angel, Lord, God, and human being. From this focus Justin tries to harmonize or synthesize the various descriptions, so that a single subject—Christ—may be understood as angel and Lord and God and ultimately human. Rather than seeing the varying descriptions as problematic, Justin works for a synthesis that can yield a greater understanding of the identity of God. 2. When Justin reads the theophany narratives, he reads both progressively and intertextually. This means that what may be ambiguous in one biblical passage can be explained by subsequent passages, as with Genesis 18 (Mamre) and 19 (Sodom). Here Justin assumes what the fourth-century author Hilary calls a “progressive development of doctrine” (De Trinitate 4.27) in which scripture reveals the truth of God more clearly as the biblical narratives progress. In addition, Justin supplements his reading of the theophany narratives with other biblical texts, most notably with christological exegesis of Psalms 44 and 109 (LXX). This is possible because Justin assumes the Holy Spirit is the author of scripture, and therefore scripture forms a coherent whole (cf. dial. 61). 3. Further, Justin argues almost entirely from the Old Testament. This is partly to use sources that Trypho will accept, and indeed Trypho at one point tells Justin that the only reason he continues to listen to Justin’s lengthy arguments is because of their scriptural nature (dial. 56). Yet, it is significant that Justin grounds his christology in exegesis, not simply in philosophical beliefs about the Logos, and further that where scripture needs clarifying, Justin turns to other scriptural passages for explanation. Perhaps the one exception is that Justin assumes that no one could possibly think of God the Father as leaving the heav-

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enly realm to descend to a location on earth (dial. 60). For Justin, the idea of God being located on earth is somewhat scandalous, and therefore he thinks that biblical texts that do locate God on earth—speaking with Abraham, visiting Moses, wrestling with Jacob—cannot refer to God the Father and Creator of all.26 4. In his focus on the distinction of the Son from the Father in the Old Testament, Justin relies heavily upon a type of functional angel christology. That is, he sees Christ as an angel, but in his work, not by nature. Christ is divine and begotten before the ages, and he is also subordinate to the Father and works the Father’s will on earth. In turn, this distinction assumes that the Father is invisible and not circumscribed by space or time. Because of these qualities, the Father does not appear visibly on earth, but rather is revealed by the Son’s mediation. In short, the Son’s angelic activity provides a point of contact between the ineffable, infinite God and the finite, tangible world. These four themes form the basis of Justin’s exegesis, and they will appear at different moments and in different configurations in later patristic exegesis of the theophany narratives. However, in preparing for these later exegetes, it is important to notice what is not found in Justin’s exegetical pattern. He does not regard the Mamre narrative as a sign of the Trinity. He does not draw close parallels between the theophanies and the incarnation, even when the biblical narrative describes the theophany’s subject as a human being (Gen. 18:2, Gen. 32:24).27 He is not concerned with transformative effects of the vision of God, or with connecting theophany narratives to “seeing” God spiritually. Finally, Justin does not articulate at length how the Son was seen or what precisely the patriarchs saw when the Son appeared. Justin’s argument does not concern whether God can be manifest in creation, as might be in question if he were more concerned with divine attributes like invisibility or immutability. Rather Justin’s question is not how God could be seen but who this God is. In this anti-Jewish context in which Justin implicitly addresses the Marcionite rejection of the

26 Justin is certainly not alone in this assumption, nor is it foreign to the Old Testament. However, his reasoning on this point seems to be less explicitly grounded in scriptural claims than most of his arguments. For an example of roughly contemporary Jewish exegesis on this topic, see Philo, Quaestiones et solutiones in Exodum 2.45, 2.68. 27 As an example of Justin’s reluctance to interpret the theophanies as too bodily, he denies that the visitors at Mamre actually ate, as does Trypho (dial. 57) and even Philo (Abr. 18.116ff ). Justin interprets this passage as a figure.

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Hebrew scriptures and Adoptionist claims about Christ’s humanity, Justin’s use of the theophanies underscores the importance of distinguishing divine identity for both christology and Christian identity. Christ as Angel and the Two Powers in Heaven If, as Oskar Skarsaune argues, Justin’s interpretation of the theophanies as evidence of a second God represents an “enormous widening” of theophany exegesis and is one of his most original contributions to the development of the scriptural proof,28 what motivated such an exegetical claim? What resources and exegetical traditions might have contributed to Justin’s reading? Why might such an argument have appealed to Justin’s audience? Alan Segal’s study Two Powers in Heaven explores a Jewish exegetical debate over the status of angelic mediators that in turn decisively influenced Christian and Gnostic views of divine powers and mediation.29 The controversy likely emerged in the first century, prior to messianic claims about Jesus. According to Segal, in the earliest stages of the controversy the rabbis condemned Jewish exegetical claims of two powers in heaven, the Most High God and a principal angel or mediator (p. 149), for example in interpretations of Daniel 7:9–27 or in theophany narratives. For the rabbis, claims that elevated an angel to the status of divine agent or that attributed divine honor to an angelic mediator were a clear symbol of a heresy that at first was not specifically Christian and could even be found in some Jewish authors (p. 156). Such authors included Philo (d. ca. 50), the Jewish philosopher and exegete from Alexandria who was deeply influenced by Hellenistic philosophy, especially Platonism. Segal finds “notions of a split in the Godhead” in Philo’s exegesis, which distinguishes divine powers even as Philo also strongly affirms monotheism. For example, Philo refers to the Logos as a second God (deuteros theos, or in other places, heteros

28 Skarsaune, “The Development of Scriptural Interpretation in the Second and Third Centuries—Except Clement and Origen,” in Hebrew Bible/Old Testament: The History of Its Interpretation, vol. 1, From the Beginnings to the Middle Ages, ed. Magne Saebo (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1996), 407; Skarsaune, The Proof from Prophecy, 409. 29 Alan F. Segal, Two Powers in Heaven: Early Rabbinic Reports about Christianity and Gnosticism, Studies in Judaism in Late Antiquity 25 (Leiden: Brill, 1977).

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theos).30 Further, Philo sees the Logos as a mediatory point of contact between God and humanity, saying of the Genesis 1 creation account that while human beings could not be made in the likeness of Most High and Father of the Universe, they are made in the likeness of the Logos.31 Such passages indicate Philo’s belief that God does not intervene directly in the world but acts through a system of mediation.32 In the theophanies, for example, God cannot appear directly to corporeal creatures but takes on the likeness of angels while remaining unchanged in his divine nature.33 However, unlike Christian authors, Philo does not attribute to the Logos a distinct personality or incarnation.34 He maintains that there is no God besides the Most High, conceiving of the Logos as a principal divine creature who emanates from the Most High God and who contains the forms of the intelligible world.35 As a creature with divine power emanating from God, the Logos is able to mediate for God in the mutable world. Thus his view of a second power in heaven does not go so far as to claim a distinct divine hypostasis worthy of worship. In addition to Philo, several strands of first-century Jewish exegesis demonstrate a belief in the Logos that reflects Jewish more than Greek philosophical ideas.36 Some of these esoteric strands suggest belief in a deuteros theos, providing evidence of pre- and para-rabbinic support for the belief in two powers in heaven within Judaism.37 Daniel Boyarin argues that rabbinic sources identified heresy primarily with

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Segal, Other Judaisms, 8–9, 17. Segal, Other Judaisms, 8; Philo, Quaestiones et Solutiones in Genesim 2.62. 32 Segal, Two Powers in Heaven, 165. 33 Segal, Other Judaisms, 9; Philo, De Somniis 1.232–235. 34 Segal, Other Judaisms, 11, 17. 35 Segal, Other Judaisms, 9; Two Powers in Heaven, 164–165. Segal writes, “Philo allows for the existence of a second, principal, divine creature, whom he calls a ‘second God,’ who nevertheless is only the visible emanation of the High, ever-existing God. In doing this, he has an entirely different emphasis than the rabbis. He is clearly following the Greek philosophers. Like them, he is reluctant to conceive of a pure, eternal God who participates directly in the affairs of the corruptible world. So he employs a system of mediation by which God is able to reach into the transient world, act in it, fill it, as well as transcend material existence, without implying a change in His essence. In these passages, Philo has suggested that the mediation is effected by the logos, who is the sum total of all the forms of the intelligible world and equal to the mind of God” (Two Powers in Heaven, 164–165). 36 Boyarin, Border Lines, 126. 37 Boyarin, Border Lines, 119. 31

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belief in the Logos in an effort to partition territory between Jews and Christians and thereby create clear boundaries between the two groups.38 Christians, in turn, also claimed belief in the Logos as a symbol of Christian identity, so that by the mid-second century, acceptance or denial of the Logos clearly symbolized Jewish and Christian beliefs, and each group played a role in defining the other.39 Thus, while rabbinic sources consistently rejected belief in two powers in heaven as heresy,40 early Christians may have drawn in part from esoteric strands of Jewish exegesis to articulate their own beliefs about Jesus and God. However, Christians in the first and second century developed the two powers in heaven claims with a distinctive mutation or innovation: ritual devotion to Jesus as God’s principal agent.41 Larry Hurtado locates early Christian claims for the belief in Jesus as divine agent, particularly in the writings of Paul, in relation to ancient Jewish beliefs in a principal angel.42 In Hurtado’s definition, the principal angel enacts God’s will, is distinguished from God and is second to God in rank, and is raised by God above all other angels in power and honor.43 In comparison, early Jewish Christians viewed Jesus as exalted by God in the resurrection and believed that the Son’s glorification affirmed the Father’s glory.44 While Jewish traditions about divine agency and mediation, such as personified divine attributes (Wisdom, Logos), exalted patriarchs (Enoch, Moses), and principal angels (Michael or Melchizedek), probably provided “seeds” for Christian beliefs about Jesus, they did not warrant devotion to the second power, as Christians gave divine honor to Christ.45 The influence of this tradition extended past the first century. Charles Gieschen locates the influence of angelomorphic christology in Christian documents between 50 and 150 C.E., including writings by Justin.46 By “angelomorphic,” Gieschen refers to figures that per 38

Boyarin, Border Lines, 38. Boyarin, Border Lines, 38–39. 40 Segal, Other Judaisms, 1; Two Powers in Heaven, 149, 156. 41 Larry W. Hurtado, One God, One Lord: Early Christian Devotion and Ancient Jewish Monotheism, 2nd ed. (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998), 12. 42 Hurtado, One God, One Lord, ch. 4–5. 43 Hurtado, One God, One Lord, 75–85. 44 Hurtado, One God, One Lord, 100. 45 Hurtado, One God, One Lord, 115. 46 Charles A. Gieschen, Angelomorphic Christology: Antecedents and Early Evidence (New York: Brill, 1998), 6. 39

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formed angelic functions, such as announcing a message from God or performing a divine work on behalf of God, without necessarily being called an angel.47 Second, third, and even fourth-century Christian authors (see, for example, treatment of Hilary of Poitiers in chapter three) spoke of Christ in this sense of “angelomorphic,” as the one who appears visibly to speak and act on the Father’s behalf. Gieschen argues that belief in God’s invisibility and transcendence, which became more strongly emphasized as debates over christology continued, contributed to the growth of angelomorphic views, bridging paradoxical scriptural claims that God cannot be seen and that the patriarchs did in fact see God.48 In this context, Christ as angel provided a link between the invisibility of God in Old Testament narratives and the immanent manifestation of God in Jesus, identifying the Son with the function of announcing and revealing God in the world. Justin, in particular, shows evidence of familiarity with the two powers in heaven debate. Coming from the Samaritan region of Palestine, Justin likely encountered “exotic” Jewish doctrines,49 and his references to another God besides the Creator in Dialogue with Trypho echo rabbinic arguments against two powers in heaven. According to Segal, “Justin’s Dialogue with Trypho also evinces real polemical use of almost all the scriptural exegesis which the rabbis thought dangerous.”50 While Justin significantly changes the two powers argument by arguing that Jesus is the Logos who appeared on earth prior to his incarnation, Segal credits him with using an exegetical tradition that existed prior to Christianity.51 Likewise, Oskar Skarsaune argues that in Dialogue Justin “is in close contact with rabbinic discussions about the law” and that behind the text of the Dialogue lies an intense debate between Jewish Christians and rabbinic Judaism.52 Thus, Justin’s presentation of Christian belief in Dialogue with Trypho may use the very claims about a second power in heaven that rabbis rejected, for the purpose of identifying the distinctiveness of Christianity. However, some scholars argue that in depicting Jesus as the second power in heaven, Justin’s intended purpose is not to persuade Jews 47

Gieschen, Angelomorphic Christology, 27–28. Gieschen, Angelomorphic Christology, 351. 49 Segal, Other Judaisms, 15. 50 Segal, Other Judaisms, 15. 51 Segal, Other Judaisms, 19. 52 Oskar Skarsaune, In the Shadow of the Temple: Jewish Influences on Early Christianity (Downers Grove, Ill.: InterVarsity Press, 2002), 270–271, 274. 48

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of the Logos, but to define Christian identity53 and to counter variant Christian claims about Christ, namely, Marcionite or Adoptionist claims that would more strongly separate Jesus and the God of Israel.54 Skarsaune notes regarding Justin’s arguments of a second God who appears in the theophanies (dial. 56–60)—which Trypho and his companions accept more easily than most of Justin’s arguments—that “in the entire Dialogue there is hardly any argument more offensive to a Jew.”55 The Jewish context here probably obscures Justin’s real target: Marcionites who reject a connection between Jesus and the Old Testament on the grounds of literal interpretation,56 or Adoptionists (cf. dial. 48) who think that Jesus was merely human. Justin’s christological exegesis thus connects the revelation of God in the Old Testament scriptures with the revelation of God in Christ, arguing that Christ works in harmony with the Creator’s will in both cases. In these ways, it seems quite likely that Justin’s view of Christ as a divine agent who acts as an angel and is given special honor, while patently anti-Jewish, draws upon existing exegetical traditions while altering them significantly. His intention is probably not to persuade Jews like Trypho and his companions, but to connect Jesus and God in a way that defended the Old Testament as scripture and defended belief in Jesus’ divine status. In other words, Justin’s exegesis aims to bridge the discontinuties posed by Marcion and Adoptionists between Jesus and the Creator, while maintaining distinctions between them. Case 2: Novatian Another case, that of Novatian of Rome, illustrates many of the same exegetical characteristics as Justin, although in a different polemical context and with slightly different theological purposes. Writing a century after Justin, Novatian (fl. 250s) also turned to the theo-

53 Boyarin writes in Border Lines: “I suggest that an important motivation for Justin’s expenditure of discursive energy is not so much to convince the Jews to accept the Logos, but rather to deny the Logos to the Jews, to take it away from them, in order for it to be the major theological center of Christianity, with the goal of establishing a religious identity for the believers in Christ that would, precisely, mark them off as religiously different from Jews” (38). Further, he says that the rabbis shared this enterprise: their primary definition of heresy was belief in the Logos. 54 Skarsaune, The Proof from Prophecy, 431. 55 Skarsaune, The Proof from Prophecy, 210. 56 Ibid.

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phanies for evidence of Christ’s pre-incarnate activity and therefore of his divinity. Like Justin, his argument centered upon the need for a particular view of Christ—as divine, pre-existent, and active in the world as a mediator for the Father—to understand the depictions of God in the Old Testament, particularly Genesis and Exodus. Similar to Justin, Novatian used distinctions of identity, intertextual exegesis, and a functional angel christology to assert that Christ appeared in the theophanies. Together with Justin’s theophany narrative exegesis, Novatian’s case illustrates how and why the theophanies served christological polemics and how such exegesis would shape later authors, including Hilary and Augustine. Although Novatian’s exegesis is similar to that of Justin, his context and background differed. While both men converted to Christianity, the Stoic-influenced Novatian shows less of the philosophical integration that defines Justin’s work. Instead, he is more known for his controversial ecclesial leadership. Novatian became a presbyter at Rome with a reputation as a rigorist. During the Decian persecution of 250–251, many members of Roman church including the bishop Fabian were martyred, while more apostatized. In the absence of episcopal leadership, Novatian grew more influential in supporting clergy and increasing penitential discipline. However, following this crisis, the new bishop of Rome, Cornelius (251–253), advocated restoring the lapsed to the church after they performed a period of penance. Establishing himself as a rival to Cornelius, Novatian was ordained by three Italian bishops. His strong opposition to Cornelius’s policy culminated in his excommunication by the Roman synod in 251. Given the controversy surrounding Novatian’s ecclesial activities, his theological legacy has been somewhat obscured. While the North African author Tertullian (fl. 200; see chapter two) wrote the first significant Latin work on trinitarian theology, Adversus Praxean, establishing basic Trinitarian vocabulary and concepts, Novatian’s work also significantly influenced Roman theological tradition and later Western authors like Gregory of Elvira and Hilary of Poitiers.57 His

57 Russell DeSimone, introduction to “The Trinity,” in Novatian, trans. Russell J. DeSimone, O.S.A., FC 67 (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press; Consortium Press, 1974), 18, 33 n.1; Lewis Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 71, 181.

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major extant treatise De Trinitate58 provides the earliest evidence of a Roman theology drawing on earlier sources but also developing distinctive ideas, especially on the relation of the Father and the Son.59 The title De Trinitate, given after Novatian’s lifetime, is misleading.60 In the treatise Novatian focuses not on the Trinity per se—indeed, he never uses the term trinitas—but largely on christology. He articulates his understanding of the content of Catholic faith, the “rule of truth” (regula veritatis, Trin. 1), in distinct (and unequal ) sections on Father (ch. 1–8), Son (ch. 9–28), and Holy Spirit (ch. 29). Within this framework, his interpretation of the biblical theophanies builds on many of the key elements of earlier interpretation to articulate the Son’s divinity and relation to the Father. In De Trinitate, while Novatian clearly argues for a particular understanding of the rule of faith, he also argues against certain ideas. Specifically, he argues against heretics who deny either the divinity or humanity of Christ. While he singles out those who reject the Old Testament scriptures and their promises of Christ (ch. 10), who think Christ did not have a real body (ch. 10), and who think Christ was merely human (ch. 11)—Marcionites, Docetists, and Adoptionists—he targets much of his critique against Sabellianism, which held that the Son was merely a different mode of activity of God and not a distinct person (ch. 12, 23, 26–28).61 Indeed, Sabellius is the only opponent that Novatian identifies by name (ch. 12). In the early third century, Sabellius emphasized the monarchy and unity of God by asserting that

58 In Novatiani Opera, ed. G. F. Diercks, CCSL 4 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1972). Unless otherwise noted, English quotations are from Novatian, trans. Russell J. DeSimone, O.S.A. 59 In The Treatise of Novatian the Roman Presbyter on the Trinity, Studia Ephemeridis Augustinianum 4 (Rome: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, 1970), Russell J. DeSimone writes that Novatian “follow[s] in the footsteps of Justin, Theophilius, Irenaeus, Hippolytus, and especially Tertullian” (42). Yet he counters Harnack’s claim that the treatise is based upon Tertullian’s Adversus Praxean, arguing that Novatian’s work is larger, more comprehensive, and not merely a “compendium” (42). 60 The original title of the work is unknown. DeSimone claims that the original title likely referred to the rule of faith (Treatise of Novatian, 49). He also notes that in the fourth and fifth centuries the work was variously attributed to Tertullian and Cyprian, as well as Novatian (Treatise of Novatian, 47). 61 J. Lebreton’s study of the polemical context of early Christian theophany exegesis (“Saint Augustin théologien de la Trinité: son exégèse des théophanies,” in Miscellanea Agostiniana, vol. 2, Studi Agostiniani [Rome: Tipografia Poliglotta Vaticana, 1931], 826) lays out the anti-Sabellian thrust of Novatian’s argument for the personal distinction of the Son.

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the Son did not have a real, separate existence from the Father. Instead, the one God is made known in different modes at different points of history. While these modes reveal something distinctive about God’s activity, they do not reveal distinctions in God’s very being. Also called modalist monarchianism, Sabellianism met strong opposition from other Christian theologians for not sufficiently safeguarding against Patripassianism, the belief that God the Father suffered in the crucifixion of Jesus. Animosity towards Sabellianism endured for several centuries, and theologians who stressed the exact likeness of the Son and the Father, particularly in the pro-Nicene debates of the later fourth century, often defended themselves against charges of Sabellianism. Novatian considered his own christology as a mean between the exaggerated views of heretics like Sabellius and Adoptionists, cautioning against leaning too far to one side or another and thereby evading a portion of truth (ch. 23, 11).62 More vividly, Novatian also compared his presentation of the Catholic faith flanked by distorting heresies to Christ crucified between two thieves (ch. 30), implying both the violence of heresy and the integrity of the Catholic symbol of faith. In this polemical context, Novatian turns to the theophanies to define more precisely the Son’s distinct divine identity in relation to the Father. Like Justin, Novatian’s belief that Christ appeared in the theophanies is rooted in his theology of the Father as infinite, ubiquitous, and invisible. In chapter 17, Novatian prepares for the discussion of the Old Testament theophanies by raising the question of God’s infinite nature versus scriptural depictions of God ascending or descending, which imply spatial location and therefore finitude.63 He writes of the tower of Babel narrative (Gen. 11): What would you reply if I should say that the same Moses everywhere represents God the Father as boundless, without end? He cannot be confined by space, for He includes all space. He is not in one place, but rather all place is in Him. He contains all things and embraces all things; therefore he cannot descend or ascend inasmuch as He contains

62 Geoffrey D. Dunn, “The Diversity and Unity of God in Novatian’s De Trinitate,” Ephemerides Theologicae Lovanienses 78:4 (2002): 390. 63 Note that in Trin. 12.7–9 Novatian first raises the distinction of Father and Son according to the former’s infinite character and the latter’s propriety in being located spatially. In chapter 12 Novatian is primarily asserting the Son’s distinction from the Father and his fulfillment of the prophecy that “God shall come down from the south” (Hab. 3.3), while in chapter 17 he is more explicitly treating how to interpret the Old Testament.

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chapter one all things and fills all things. Yet Moses represents God as descending to the tower which the sons of men were building, seeking to inspect it and saying: “Come, let us go down quickly, and there confuse their language, so that they may not understand one another’s speech.”64

Novatian uses what he perceives to be a difficulty in scripture—that God who is Spirit and does not have a body (ch. 6–7) descended to a place on earth—to argue for a distinction between the divine Father and the divine Son. For if the Father is the one who descended to earth, either God is not infinite, or an angel—someone other than God—gave the divine command to descend. Novatian does not accept either of these options, but instead he argues for a divine agent other than the Father. He distinguishes between God the Father, infinite and unconfined, and the Son—who is the Word of God and is God—who later descended and ascended in the incarnation. In this way, distinguishing between the boundless God and the God who enters the world allows Novatian to protect his theology of the Father, to understand the Son’s mediatory role in the world connected in some way to his incarnation, and to preserve scriptural depictions of divine transcendence and immanence. For these reasons, Novatian, like Justin, asserts that Christ’s appearances in the theophanies prove his identity as divine, distinct from the Father, and united to humanity. Simply, Christ is the divine yet subordinate mediator who enters the world to perform the will of the invisible, boundless Father (ch. 18). Novatian’s argument for Christ’s pre-incarnate activity arises first in his understanding of the Word’s activity in creation (17.1–6),65 and more expansively from his sense of Christ’s role in the whole economy of salvation: first announcing God’s will to the patriarchs and prophets, and finally in being made flesh. In all of his work, he mediates between the Father and the world, becoming visible in particular moments of manifesting God’s will to human beings.

64 Trin. 17.7: Quid si idem Moyses ubique introducit Deum Patrem immensum atque sine fine, non qui loco cludatur, sed qui omnem locum cludat, nec eum qui in loco sit, sed potius in quo omnis locus sit, omnia continentem et cuncta complexum, ut merito nec descendat nec ascendat, quoniam ipse omnia et continet et implet, et tamen nihilominus introducit Deum descendentem ad turrem quam aedificabant filii hominum, considerare quaerentem et dicentem: Venite et mox descendamus et confundamus illic ipsorum linguas, ut non audiat unusquisque vocem proximi sui? 65 Here Novatian uses such commonplace scriptural proofs as John 1:3, Ps. 44:2 (LXX), and Gen. 1:26–27.

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In focusing on the theophanies, Novatian does not say that the Son appeared because he is visible in his very being; rather, his argument implies that Christ became visible in his activity in history, especially in the incarnation. In other words, his work determined his visibility, not vice versa. Thus in chapter 18, Novatian stresses that the theophanies do not contradict the scriptural maxim that no one can see or has ever seen God (Exod. 33:20; John 1:18). Novatian argues that the Son, not the Father, was seen because the Son accustomed himself to be seen and to descend, since he did in fact descend.66 Novatian’s latter use of “descend” (descenderit) refers to the incarnation, which although a future event relative to the Old Testament instances of descending, establishes the appropriateness of the Son’s visibility prior to his incarnation. In this way Novatian grounds the Son’s visibility not in his very nature but in his activity, implying that he was seen as he became visible in his descent into the world. Like Justin, Novatian’s method focuses on a sequence of theophanies in Genesis to establish an exegetical pattern for biblical theophanies more generally, discerning in them both distinctions of divine identity and Christ’s angelic work. By interpreting these theophanies as an interrelated series, Novatian argues that the revelation of the Son unfolds progressively, requiring the interpreter to make sense of shifting descriptions of the divine subject. He focuses on a slightly different set of theophanies than Justin, connecting the theophanies to Hagar, Abraham, and Sarah in Genesis 16 to 19. In Novatian’s reading, these chapters together indicate that an angel who is also called God or Lord, and who performs divine actions, is manifested throughout the theophanies. Thus, Novatian is similar to Justin in arguing for the divinity of Christ while stressing Christ’s function as a messenger or “angel” from God the Father. Novatian delineates this exegetical pattern starting with God’s manifestation to Hagar. In Genesis 16, when Hagar conceived and then ran away from Sarah, an angel of the Lord visits Hagar and promises her a multitude of offspring (Gen. 16:7–14). From this meeting Hagar concludes, “Have I really seen God and remained alive after seeing him?” (Gen. 16:13). Novatian argues that the blessing of progeny promised

66 Trin. 18.2: Ex quo intellegi potest quod non Pater visus sit, qui numquam visus est, sed Filius, qui et descendere solitus est et videri, quia descenderit.

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by the angel was a divine work, and therefore the angel was also God.67 Further, he reasons, Hagar said of the angel that she had seen God. Novatian denies that God the Father can be called an angel, which would imply being subject to another. Rather, there is another, the Son of God, who is God and is subject to God the Father. Thus the passage is fitting neither to God the Father nor to a mere angel, but it is fitting to the person of Christ, “since He is not only God, inasmuch as He is the Son of God, but also an angel, inasmuch as He is the herald of the Father’s dispensation.”68 Here Novatian’s explicit argument concerns function: he argues that Christ was seen by Hagar not because he is the visible image of the invisible Father, but because he acted as a messenger subject to the Father.69 Novatian develops this functional angel christology through intertextual exegesis. While Justin focused his intertextual argument mostly on verses from the Psalms, Novatian turns to other sources. He connects the Genesis 16 manifestation of one who is both angel and God with christological interpretation of the “angel of great counsel” (Isa. 9.6, LXX). Thus he argues that the Genesis narrative can be read christologically, because “angel” is a christological title and not necessarily a distinct creature.70 Further, in his interpretation of this theophany Novatian connects “angel” with the incarnation, when Christ makes the Father’s heart known (John 1.18). Therefore, Novatian’s intertextual exegesis is centered on the angelic character of Christ’s work and identity as the Father’s messenger (Trin. 18.22–23).

67 Trin. 18.7: Hunc autem angelum et Dominum scriptura proponit et Deum (nam nec benedictionem seminis promisisset, nisi angelus et Deus fuisset), quaerant quid in praesenti loco haeretici tractent. 68 Trin. 18.10: Personae autem Christi convenit, ut et Deus sit, quia Dei Filius est, et angelus sit, quoniam paternae dispositionae annuntiator est. 69 See also Novatian’s discussion of Christ’s second appearance to Hagar (Gen. 21) in Trin. 18.18–23. This section contains the same arguments as 18.7–10. Also see Trin. 19 for Novatian’s discussion of the Genesis 31 theophany to Jacob, in which Novatian uses the same exegetical arguments about how the same divine agent is called both God and angel in the narrative, and therefore the agent must be Christ. While this passage treats a different theophany, Novatian’s interpretation regarding the subject of the theophany is much the same, and therefore I will not examine it here. 70 Trin. 18.22: Quod cum Patri competens et conveniens esse non possit, qui tantummodo Deus est, competens autem esse possit Christo, qui non tantummodo Deus, sed et angelus pronuntiatus est, manifeste apparet non Patrem ibi tunc locutum fuisse ad Agar, sed Christum potius, cum Deus sit cui etiam angeli competit nomen, quippe cum magni consilii angelus factus sit.

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Proceeding to the Mamre theophany of Genesis 18, Novatian further identifies the Son’s visibility with his angelic activity, in distinction to the invisible Father. He argues against the “heretical” interpretation that the three visitors were the Father accompanied by two angels, perhaps referring to a Sabellian view that denied proper distinctions within the godhead. Novatian argues that the angel whom Abraham called Lord could not have been the Father, because of the Father’s “proper invisibility” (invisibilitas propria, Trin. 18.13). However, he contrasts this invisibility not with visibility, but with the angel’s intermediary character, or “proper middleness” (propria mediocritas, Trin. 18.13). Thus the angel had to be divine and an intermediary: the Son, who as God could be called Lord by Abraham and who as the Father’s messenger could be called an angel in the narrative. What is most significant about Novatian’s interpretation is his emphasis on angelic function in the theophanies, not primarily on visibility. Instead of opposing the Father’s invisibility to the Son’s visibility, Novatian argues that the Son contrasts with the Father by virtue of his subordination, identifying the Son’s “mediocrity” and his work as messenger as distinguishing marks. In this way, subordinationism is a part of Novatian’s polemical argument against Sabellianism, but it is not clearly rooted in the Son’s nature or being. As subordinationism increasingly became an issue in polemical interpretation of the theophanies (see chapter three), authors continued to distinguish Christ from the Father according to his office or activity rather than his being. Continuing with the Genesis sequence of theophanies, Novatian’s arguments for the Son’s appearance in the theophanies also include an exegetical claim found in Justin, namely, that the scriptures refer to two Lords and therefore to two Gods. Specifically, he argues that the Genesis 19:24 depiction of the Lord raining down fire and sulfur from the Lord out of heaven implies that two can be called Lord, the Father and the Son (Trin. 18.15–17). Reading intertextually, Novatian further connects the Lord who destroyed Sodom with the Lord who was seen and touched by Abraham (Gen. 12, 18). Since the Father cannot be seen, this Lord must be the Son, the Word who became incarnate.71 Thus in Novatian’s reading, the Genesis sequence reveals in increasing clarity the divine identity of the Son, who was manifested

71 Trin. 18.16: Sed cum Pater, qua invisibilis, nec tunc utique visus sit, visus est et hospitibus receptus et acceptus est, qui solitus est tangi et videri; hic autem Filius Dei.

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visibily and tangibly to the patriarchs as he would be more fully in his incarnation. Here Novatian again connects the visibility of the Son with his activity and ultimately his incarnation, indicating that the Son’s visibility is related to identity as the one who would become flesh. This consistent connection, combined with an absence of relating the Son’s visibility to his nature, demonstrates Novatian’s conviction that Christ’s appearances in the Old Testament theophanies are rooted in, or even due to, his assumption of flesh in the incarnation. In other words, the Son was seen and touched in the Genesis accounts because of his future to be seen and touched ultimately in his human life as Jesus of Nazareth, not because it is his distinctive essence to be seen and touched. While Novatian’s reading of the Genesis sequence is strikingly similar to Justin’s, focusing on distinctions of divine identity, the Son’s description as an angel, and intertextual reading, he moves beyond Justin in connecting the Son’s visible manifestations much more frequently to his incarnation, bolstering his view that the Son is subject or subordinate to the Father by virtue of enacting the Father’s will. In addition to Novatian’s literal christological exegesis of the theophanies, he is more likely than Justin to interpret the theophanies as figures of the incarnation. Specifically, Novatian treats the theophanies at Mamre (Gen. 18) and to Jacob (Gen. 31–32) as figures of Christ, effected to reveal Christ’s future incarnation. He writes that in visiting Abraham at Mamre, the Son was “prefiguring in a mystery what he would one day be, when he would find himself among the sons of Abraham.”72 Further, in wrestling with Jacob (Genesis 32) Christ reveals in a figure (in imagine) that he will be both God and human (Trin. 19.6). He further prefigures the struggle between himself and the Jews, in which like Jacob the Jews will prevail but they also will be in need of Christ’s mercy and blessing (Trin. 19.8–9). While here Novatian is interpreting figuratively, he connects the figurative meaning with the Son’s actual manifestation and agency in the theophanies: the Son himself appeared to prefigure his incarnation. For Novatian, the Son’s assumption of visible form in the theophanies points toward the future reality that he will assume flesh and live among human beings as one of them.

72 Trin. 18.14: Quod enim erat futurus, meditabatur in sacramento Abrahae factus hospes, apud Abrahae filios futurus.

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Finally, while most of Novatian’s focus on the theophanies concerns the proof of Christ’s distinct divine identity, he also hints at the spiritual implications of the theophanies. In this sense, he combines aspects of both the polemical strand and the spiritual strand, as did the earlier Latin author Tertullian (see chapter two). Alluding to the Mamre theophany, Novatian asserts that the Son and not the Father appeared to Abraham, because the Son is the image of the invisible God. Further, he asserts that such vision of the Son accustoms humanity gradually to the vision of God the Father, strengthening one’s ability to behold the light of God’s glory.73 Novatian intimates that Christ’s visible appearances in some way obscure his divinity, saying that Christ “was seen by human beings only insofar as he was able to be seen.”74 By stressing the fundamental human desire to see God, the mediatory work of Christ, and the process of using physical vision to develop one’s capacity for spiritual vision,75 Novatian hints at the major themes of the spiritual strand of theophany exegesis (see chapter two), but without developing them in much specificity or clarity. Conclusion In sum, many of the elements of Novatian’s theophany interpretation follow Justin’s exegesis, but their configuration and the extent to which Novatian connects the Son’s visibility with his incarnation makes his interpretation distinctive. Both authors write in a polemical context, focusing on the theophanies as proof of Christ’s identity as divine and distinct from the Father. Likewise, both define their interpretation and themselves in opposition to heresy, whether of Jews (Justin, dial. 62), Sabellians (Novatian, Trin. 12), Marcion (Novatian, Trin. 1), Docetists (Novatian, Trin. 10–11, 23), or Adoptionists (Novatian, Trin. 11, 14). For this reason, their interpretations largely focus on

73 Trin. 18.3: Imago est enim invisibilis Dei, ut mediocritas et fragilitas condicionis humanae Deum Patrem videre aliquando iam tunc assuesceret in imagine Dei, hoc est in Filio Dei. Gradatim enim et per incrementa fragilitas humana nutriri debuit per imaginem ad istam gloriam, ut Deum Patrem videre posset aliquando. 74 Trin. 18.5: Sic ergo et Christus, id est imago Dei et Filius Dei, ab hominibus inspicitur, qua poterat videri. 75 Ibid.: Et ideo fragilitas et mediocritas sortis humanae per ipsum alitur, producitur, educatur, ut aliquando Deum quoque ipsum Patrem, assueta Filium conspicere, possit ut est videre, ne maiestatis ipsius repentino et intolerabili fulgore percussa intercipi possit, ut Deum Patrem, quem semper optavit, videre non possit.

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how the theophanies and related texts define God, and by extension, God’s people. In terms of method, both authors emphasize a set of theophanies in Genesis as an interrelated series, reading one to supplement the descriptions of God in another. This reading assumes that the revelation of God unfolds gradually in history, not only among the figures of Hagar, Abraham, Sarah, and Jacob, but also in events continuing through Israel, especially in the lives of Moses and the prophets, to the life of Jesus. Further, both authors read intertextually, turning to verses that imply a plurality in God (Gen. 19:24, Pss. 2, 44, and 109 LXX) or references to Christ as an angel or messenger of the Father (Isa. 9:6, John 1:18) to explain the ambiguities of the theophany narratives. In their exegesis, both the interrelated nature of the scriptures and the continuous, unfolding revelation of God in history culminating in the incarnation provide much needed continuity in the face of disruption: between the Old Testament and the emerging New Testament, between Judaism and Christianity, between devotion to the one God and the exaltation of his divine agent, Jesus. In short, literal christological reading of the theophanies builds on certain beliefs about the nature of God’s activity and of the scriptures. They use these beliefs to establish the continuity of God’s activity in the world, thereby bridging the discontinuities that early Christians faced in defining themselves and their beliefs amid much diverse opinion and competition. Finally, both authors emphasize Christ’s subordinate position as an “angel” who performs the will of the Father and acts as his messenger, likely building on the distinctly Christian mutation of the belief in God’s principal angel. In this view, Novatian and Justin also hold certain distinctive views of the Father, who is transcendent, not confined in space, and therefore not manifested in finite, visible, tangible forms. Rather, the Father has a mediator, the Son or the Logos, who shares in the divine nature and power but who is subject to the Father. He is above the angels by virtue of his divinity, performing divine works that created angels could not do. Yet he is called angel as a christological title and an expression of his work in harmony with the Father’s will. In addition to these similarities to Justin, Novatian develops his interpretation of the theophany narratives in a several significant aspects. First, he contextualizes the Son’s visibility with respect to activity. Clearly Novatian thinks of the Son as subordinate to the Father, arguing that the distinctions between Father and Son are demonstrated in the Son’s being subject to the Father while the Father is

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subject to no one (cf. Trin. 12, 26). Yet, he defines the Son’s visibility in terms of his work as mediator between the Father and the world. This emphasis will be developed further in the exegesis of Hilary of Poitiers, who claims that the Son is an angel regarding his office, not his nature (chapter three). Novatian hints at such a distinction, connecting the Son’s visibility in the theophanies to his later incarnation and arguing that the Son became visible in all of these instances for the same purpose, making the Father known and doing his work. In a sense, Novatian slightly destabilizes the Son’s identity as visible (in contrast to the invisible Father) by focusing first on mediation, and only by extension on visibility. Second, Novatian briefly links a few theophany narratives to the incarnation, although rooting their ability to prefigure Christ’s incarnation in his actual visible, physical manifestation in the theophanies. Like Justin, his primary emphasis is on Christ’s pre-incarnate appearances as proof of his divinity. Yet, he also sees a figure of the incarnation in the theophany of Jacob wrestling with a man (Gen. 32), in which the attribution of “man” and “God” to the same person nearly cries out to early Christian exegetes for exploration. For Novatian, Christ’s visibility retroactively centers around his being made flesh, and correspondingly the theophanies have the revelatory value of manifesting God’s intention for the Son to become incarnate. Finally, Novatian also emphasizes the Son as the image of the Father, the one to whom people may look to strengthen their spiritual capacity for the vision of God. While he merely introduces this idea, he touches on the major theme of the other strand of theophany exegesis, spiritual vision. For Novatian, such vision is rooted in the Son’s activity as mediator, accessible to the human senses and mediating the presence of the invisible God. Therefore Christ helps believers by providing a more accessible sight for their weaker vision and by enabling them to to attain their fundamental desire, vision of God. Together, Justin and Novatian illustrate a basic pattern or strand of reading the theophanies for proof of Christ’s identity in the context of polemical argument. This pattern advances many of the key ideas found in later theophany exegesis, especially that of Hilary of Poitiers (see chapter three). While taking up many of the ambiguities and problems inherent in the Genesis and Exodus narratives, they also neglect others: why would God appear in such strange ways? How can God be seen and not seen, according to the scriptures? How did these visions affect their viewers? And, most importantly, what significance might

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these narratives have for one’s own life, in an age when God does not seem to appear in such miraculous, strange, and obvious ways? While Novatian hints at these questions, it is in another set of second- and third-century authors that one finds the other major strand of patristic theophany exegesis, one focused primarily on the role of vision and the scriptures in spiritual transformation.

CHAPTER TWO

THE SPIRITUAL STRAND: VISION AND TRANSFORMATION Introduction Paradox, ambiguity, and tension are inherent to the theophany narratives, and this is no less true in human spiritual experience, aiming to know God more fully. While the polemical-doctrinal strand of exegesis focuses on paradox and ambiguity to identify the subject of the theophanies, a second strand of interpretation emphasizes the spiritual implications of the theophany narratives, exploring the tensions between seeing and not seeing, between hope and fulfillment, between desire and reality. This second tradition of patristic theophany exegesis, the spiritual strand, also develops in the second through the fourth centuries, and like the polemical-doctrinal strand, it assumes that the Son was manifested in the theophanies as the mediator of the Father made visible. However, more important than the Son’s identity is the likeness of the theophanies to the incarnation, sharing a common purpose of uniting human beings to God through faith. If the polemical-doctrinal strand asked who appeared in the theophanies, fundamentally the spiritual strand asks two questions: how and why was God seen in them? This chapter examines how four authors—Irenaeus, Tertullian, Origen, and Gregory of Nyssa—explore these questions. They distinguish bodily and spiritual vision, asserting that while the visible form of the theophanies can be seen with the eyes of the body, God can only be seen spiritually with the eyes of the heart. Further, they claim that spiritual vision is partial, according to human capacity for knowing the incomprehensible and infinite God. Yet, ancient theories of bodily vision provide a metaphor for spiritual vision, stressing the importance of illumination or divine grace. In considering why God was manifested, the spiritual strand considers how theophanies, even involving bodily vision and limited spiritual perception, give a foretaste or partial glimpse of true vision of God, increasing one’s desire for such vision. In this way, imperfect and mediated visions of God give life to human beings, drawing their attention to God’s goodness manifested in the world, especially in the

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Word made flesh. They increase faith and illuminate the soul, developing its capacity to see God spiritually. They teach of God’s love, even as they suggest the insufficiency of human abilities to know God. By exploring the tensions between the revelation and hiddenness of God in the theophanies, the spiritual strand asks how the vision of God leads to spiritual growth and transformation. Ancient theories of vision Ancient philosophical theories of vision are often grouped by scholars into two main categories, intromission and extramission. These two theories raise important distinctions of the viewer’s agency, the central role of light, and the ways in which the object of vision acts upon the viewer through a transparent medium. For these reasons, the theories of vision provide patristic exegetes with an understanding of how the patriarchs did, and did not, see God in the theophanies. Further, they help these interpreters consider how stories of physical visions might metaphorically express the believer’s need for the interior illumination of grace in the spiritual vision of God. In other words, the authors who privilege the spiritual strand of interpretation both distinguish between physical and spiritual vision and use physical vision as a metaphor to understand the true spiritual vision of God. The intromission theory of vision involves the effluence of images from visible objects transmitted through a transparent medium. Vision is akin to touch, as bodily images (simulacra) emanate from objects, proceed through space, and eventually touch the eye. This theory is associated with Leucippus, Democritus, Lucretius, and Epicurus, who claim that particles constantly stream off of the surface of bodies, but are replaced so that the eye does not perceive any diminishment of the bodies.1 Intromission is much less prominent among the patristic authors considered in this study, most of whom are influenced by Middle Platonism or Neoplatonism. In this theory, the objects of sight act upon the more passive viewer. Notably, intromission’s focus on emanating images and streaming particles that touch the eye lends

1 David C. Lindberg, Theories of Vision from Al-Kindi to Kepler (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1976), 2.

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itself much less to a spiritual metaphor in which the soul, illuminated by divine light, actively grasps spiritual realities. In contrast, many of the early Christian authors featured in this study, especially Origen and Augustine, were most influenced by the extramission theory. Developed by Pythagoras, Empedocles, and Plato, the extramission theory posits that the viewer possesses an inner light that flows through the eyes, forming rays that are sent out toward visible objects. As Plato articulates his theory in the Timaeus and Philo later affirms, when this light flows out of the eyes, it coalesces with sunlight to form a single body that can transmit motions of external objects back to the soul.2 Thus, sight originates with light proceeding from the soul through the eyes; yet, despite the agency that this theory suggests, the viewer’s actions alone are not sufficient for vision. An additional form of light must combine with the viewer’s own interior light, forming a medium between the viewer and visible objects. Simply, vision requires both the visual rays of the eyes and external sunlight, both the viewer’s actions and something beyond their control. In this theory, sight is a form of touch: a ray extends from the soul, coalesces with external light, and touches an external object, connecting the viewer to the object. Using this theory, vision in the theophanies involves a physical connection between viewer, light, and visible thing, which is initiated by the viewer’s inner light but for which the viewer requires external illumination. These themes—the viewer’s inner illumination, the need for exterior light, the direction of sight toward an object, and the connection between viewer and object—provide the basis for the spiritual strand’s emphasis on grace and action in spiritual vision and transformation. This theory of vision likely underlies Jesus’ claim that the eye is the lamp of the body, sending out rays to illuminate external things (Matt. 6:22, Luke 11:34).3 It also grounds the medieval practice of viewing the consecrated host, in which the viewer receives the body of Christ into

2 Plato, Timaeus 45; Philo, Quod Deus Immutabilis Sit 79, cited in Robert J. Hauck, “ ‘Like a Gleaming Flash’: Matthew 6:22–23, Luke 11:34–36 and the Divine Sense in Origen,” Anglican Theological Review 88:4 (2006): 564; see also Lindberg, Theories of Vision, 5. 3 Hans Dieter Betz, “Matthew 6.22f and Ancient Greek Theories of Vision,” in Text and Interpretation: Studies in the New Testament Presented to Matthew Black, ed. Ernest Best and R. McL. Wilson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), 50.

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himself or herself not by eating but by looking upon it.4 Here, vision is a form of touch that connects the viewer with the object, allowing the soul to receive the object within itself via its image. In turn, this reception has the potential to transform the viewer and bring him or her in closer relation to God. Such vision implies both action and reciprocity, with the power to affect and transform the soul. For early Christian authors like Augustine, the extramission theory not only shows the agency of the viewer toward the object of sight, but also the influence of the visible object upon the viewer. When a connection is formed between the viewer and the visible object, an image of the object is transmitted through the medium back to the soul and is retained in the memory, so that the mind is shaped by what it sees.5 Thus, physical vision has the power to shape the soul spiritually, particularly as such images impressed upon the soul shape its desire to view certain things instead of others, or to linger upon physical vision instead of spiritual contemplation of higher realities. In short, physical vision is never merely sight; it has the power to shape the viewer’s desires in both positive and negative ways. Powerful visions might prompt the soul to desire intellectual vision of more enduring, transcendent realities, or they might stimulate desire to see greater physical beauty. In the former case, physical vision is an impetus toward spiritual vision; in the latter, it is an obstacle. How the viewer responds to physical vision depends as much upon the disposition, values, and ideas of the viewer as the vision itself. The extramission theory has significant spiritual implications for early Christian authors, particularly Origen and Augustine. First, it requires both inner light of the soul—a potent metaphor for the imago Dei, understood as the spiritual capacities of the human person made in the image of God—and illumination outside of one’s self for vision to occur.6 This suggests that the self, while active, cannot see purely by its own powers. Second, vision proceeds from the soul, and therefore

4 Christopher Joby, “The Extent to Which the Rise in the Worship of Images in the Late Middle Ages Was Influenced by Contemporary Theories of Vision,” Scottish Journal of Theology 60:1 (2007): 36. 5 Margaret Miles, “Vision: The Eye of the Body and the Eye of the Mind in St. Augustine’s ‘De Trinitate’ and ‘Confessions,’ ” Journal of Religion 63:2 (1983): 127– 128; Joby, “The Extent to Which,” 39. 6 Hauck, “Like a Gleaming Flash,” 566; Miles, “Vision: The Eye of the Body and the Eye of the Mind,” 130.

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bodily vision is never purely physical.7 Specifically, vision involves the will’s decision to direct the soul’s rays to a particular object, and the impression of images upon the soul. Third, as a form of attachment between viewer and object, vision has the power to alter one’s relationship to the world. Vision influences one’s affections, creating deeper desires to see certain things and not others. In this sense, physical vision can shape the viewer’s desire to focus on visible or invisible realities, either delighting in sensory perception or desiring a more transcendent spiritual experience.8 Physical vision forms the model for how Origen and Augustine conceive of the spiritual connection between the self and the objects of its attention, whether divine or earthly.9 For Origen, Jesus’ claim that the eye is the lamp of the body figuratively expresses that the mind is the lamp of the soul and that vision is knowledge or understanding.10 Therefore, as the eye sees by means of its inner light, so the mind, as a faculty of the soul, sends out “intellectual rays” and meets with divine truth. These two forms of “light” coalesce to produce knowledge.11 Knowledge is grasped only because the mind bears an affinity to God, just as the person’s inner light coalesces with sunlight due to their similiarity. Thus, the extramission theory of physical vision provides a model for how one comes to know spiritual truth, and by extension theophany stories involve not only vision of a burning bush or an angel in human form, but also deeper understanding of God and of the purpose of God’s actions in the world. For Origen, as for Philo, the human person cannot look upon God’s brilliance by itself; the soul first needs to be illuminated by the light of the Logos.12 Additionally, the soul must lift its attention from lower physical realities and extend its visual rays toward the light of the Logos to perceive divine light.13 For Augustine, the act of vision necessarily involves the human affections, which can be ordered or disordered. If disordered, the soul will direct its energies toward what is temporal and ultimately unsatisfying;

7

Miles, “Vision: The Eye of the Body and the Eye of the Mind,” 139. Miles, “Vision: The Eye of the Body and the Eye of the Mind,” 128; Hauck, “Like a Gleaming Flash,” 572. 9 Hauck, “Like a Gleaming Flash,” 566; Miles, “Vision: The Eye of the Body and the Eye of the Mind,” 130. 10 Hauck, “Like a Gleaming Flash,” 560–62. 11 Origen, De principiis 1.1.7; Hauck, “Like a Gleaming Flash,” 569–570. 12 Hauck, “Like a Gleaming Flash,” 570. 13 Hauck, “Like a Gleaming Flash,” 572. 8

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if, however, the soul raises its attention from the temporal to the invisible and eternal, its longings can be united with God.14 Aristotle provides a third theory of vision, different from both extramission and intromission. Rejecting both visual rays emanating from the viewer and bodily images emanating from object, Aristotle focuses on the transparent intermediary between the viewer and the object, such as air or water. Because it is transparent, this medium is actualized by light and moved by the color on the surface of visible object.15 Thus, vision involves motion within a continuous medium that acts upon the eyes. The eyes themselves are transparent, being mostly water, and contain within them the “sense organ of the soul,” which transmits motion from the watery surface of the eyes to the soul itself. While differing on visual rays and the initiative of the soul, both Platonic and Aristotelian views agree that vision requires a medium that is moved or affected by light and connects viewer and object.16 In all of these ancient theories, vision involves a mediated connection between the viewer and the visible object, with the potential to affect the viewer’s desires and relation to external things. The necessity of light for physical vision suggests the metaphor of divine illumination and the need for grace. In these ways, physical vision is different from intellectual perception, but it resonates with aspects of the human person’s relation to God. For this reason, the theophany narratives, with their elusive and ambiguous descriptions of seeing God, suggest both bodily and spiritual vision that transform their recipients. When early Christian authors considered how and why Moses, Abraham, and others saw God, they naturally considered spiritual vision, grace, and desire. Irenaeus Irenaeus (ca. 115–202), bishop of Lyons, provides an early example of the significance of the theophanies for spiritual transformation for the original viewer and the reader (or hearer) of the scriptural narrative alike. Born in Smyrna, Asia Minor, he became a bishop in Gaul

14

Miles, “Vision: The Eye of the Body and the Eye of the Mind,” 135; on the ordering of the affections, see Augustine, De doctrina christiana 1.16, 21, 24–25, 28. 15 Lindberg, Theories of Vision, 7–8. 16 Lindberg, Theories of Vision, 9.

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after studying and teaching in Rome. Much of his work critiques the dualistic perspectives of Gnosticism, which Irenaeus counters with his theological views of unity achieved in Christ. Among his most distinctive theological contributions is his argument for the unity of the two testaments of the Bible, rooted in the one God and one dispensation of salvation in Christ. By extension, for Irenaeus the Bible consistently speaks of Christ whether by means of prophecy, figure, or historical account. While only two of his writings, Against Heresies and Proof of the Apostolic Preaching, are extant, together they demonstrate how Irenaeus assumes that Christ appeared in the theophanies, with spiritual implications for the vision of God. They also place the theophanies in the larger context of Irenaeus’ christology, particularly the themes of unity of God with humanity and recapitulation of all things in Christ. Christ’s incarnation and dwelling among human beings is essential for both themes, and in turn the theophanies underscore the importance of Christ as the mediator who properly interacts with human beings. Although the purposes of Against Heresies and Proof of the Apostolic Preaching are quite different—Irenaeus wrote the former around 200 to combat Gnosticism and the latter to promote a concise account of the gospel according to apostolic teaching—together they present a vision of how Christ is proclaimed in the Old and New Testaments. Irenaeus develops his christological reading of the theophanies, and indeed of the Old Testament, in his Proof of the Apostolic Preaching. Likely dating from the end of the second century, it was written to “set forth in brief the preaching of the truth.”17 The treatise explains the rule of faith—basic Christian teaching about the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—and discusses how God worked salvation through Christ in history, from the creation of the world, to the incarnation and resurrection of Christ, to the calling in of the Gentiles. Given this purpose, much of the treatise highlights key biblical events, claiming that Christ was prophesied, signified, or explicitly manifested in them. Irenaeus’s interpretation is guided by his christology: the pre-existent Word became incarnate to unite human beings with God and to give

17 St. Irenaeus: Proof of the Apostolic Preaching 1, trans. Joseph P. Smith, Ancient Christian Writers 16 (Westminster, Md., London: The Newman Press, Longmans, Green and Co, 1952). The Latin text is found in Irenaeus of Lyons, Démonstration de la Prédication Apostolique, ed. Adelin Rousseau, SC 406 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1995). It is difficult to determine the composition date of this work, which was recovered in 1904 in an Armenian translation.

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them a share in incorruptibility (31), and he was raised from the dead to manifest the resurrection of the flesh (39). Thus his christological interpretation of the Bible, particularly the Old Testament, emphasizes how Christ unites human beings with God by sharing their flesh and by revealing the Father in his interactions with people. When Irenaeus turns to the theophany narratives, he emphasizes the mediation of the Logos, much like Justin and Novatian. In his initial, cursory account of biblical history (11–42), he claims that God manifested “himself through the Word as through a ray of light” to Abraham at Mamre (24, adparuit Abrahae, per Verbum sicut per radium notum faciens seipsum; cf. Gen. 18) and that God appeared to Abraham in a vision (24). However, in these cases he does not delve deeper into this matter or ask any questions of how or why such a vision happened. In summing up the account, he merely affirms that the Son is the meaning of the law and the prophets, which he in part supports by claiming that the Son spoke to Moses (40). All of Irenaeus’ claims about the Bible in this section are brief; it is not surprising that he limits his claims about the Son’s activity in the theophanies to a few pithy statements without more explanation. While Irenaeus’ focus thus far on identity and mediation resembles the main themes of the polemical strand, he emphasizes that the theophanies are prophecies or figures of the Son’s incarnation. Claiming that the Son appeared at Mamre and before the destruction of Sodom (Gen. 18–19), he interprets this manifestation as a prophecy that the Son would become incarnate, eat and drink with people, converse with them, and impose judgment from the Father (44). Likewise, he claims that Jacob’s dream of ascending to heaven (Gen. 28) “signifies” the Son, since the Son speaks with people and lives among them but the Father is cannot be seen or limited in space (45: et omnes huiusmodi visiones Filium Dei significant loquentem cum hominibus et exsistentem cum eis). In these examples, Irenaeus fluidly goes back and forth between a literal and figurative reading in which Christ prefigures his incarnation, for example, by descending to deliver the Israelites from Egypt (46; cf. Exod. 3:7). Thus, in this treatise Irenaeus demonstrates his belief that the Son, as mediator for the Father, is proclaimed by the Old Testament, and further that the scriptures show that Christ unites humanity with God by communing with both (47, 52). While Proof of the Apostolic Preaching shows that Irenaeus interprets the theophanies christologically, his other major work develops their spiritual implications of in greater depth. In his Against Heresies,

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Irenaeus examines three theophany narratives, those of Moses on the rock, of Elijah, and of Ezekiel.18 He develops several key exegetical themes distinguishing what human beings can and can’t see regarding God, focusing on the human need for grace, examining how the vision of God gives life, and connecting the theophanies to eschatology and the promise of the future vision of God. In turn, these themes emerge more prominently in third and fourth century authors who develop the spiritual strand of interpretation. One of the most well-known statements by Irenaeus occurs in his discussion of the theophanies in Book Four: “the glory of God is a living human being; and human life is the vision of God” ( gloria enim Dei vivens homo, vita autem hominis visio Dei; δόξα γὰρ θεοῦ ζῶν ἄνθρωπος, ζωὴ δὲ ἀνθρώπου ὁρασις θεοῦ; adv. haer. 4.20.7). This phrase introduces Irenaeus’ main themes: the vision of God makes one more fully alive, and as such it is the goal of human existence.19 However, God cannot by seen by human eyes; rather, God adapts revelation to human capacity, since the human condition cannot by itself endure the brightness of God’s glory (4.38.1). Therefore, Irenaeus’ reading of the theophanies concerns not so much the agency of the Son, which he assumes (4.7.3), as the manner in which God wills to be revealed and the effects of this revelation. Irenaeus distinguishes between God’s glory and greatness, which cannot been seen, and God’s love and power, by which God wills to be seen (4.20.5).20 He writes,

18 See adv. haer. 4.20.9 on Moses and 4.20.10–11 on Elijah and Ezekiel. Latin and Greek text is from Contre Les Hérésies, ed. Adelin Rousseau, SC 100 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1965). Unless otherwise noted, English quotations are from The Apostolic Fathers, Justin Martyr, Irenaeus, ed. Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, ANF 1 (Christian Literature Publishing Company, 1885; reprint, Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1994). 19 The quotation continues: “For if the manifestation of God which is made by means of the creation, affords life to all living in the earth, much more does that revelation of the Father which comes through the Word, give life to those who see God” (Si enim quae est per conditionem ostensio Dei vitam praestat omnibus in terra viventibus, multo magis ea quae est per Verbum manifestatio Patris vitam praestat his qui vident Deum; εἰ γὰρ ἡ διὰ τῆς κτίσεως ἐπίδειξις τοῦ θεοῦ ζωὴν παρέχει τοῖς ἐπιγείοις ζῴοις πᾶσι, πολλῷ μᾶλλον ἡ διὰ τοῦ λόγου φανέρωσις τοῦ πατρὸς ζωῆς ἐστι παρεκτικὴ τοῖς ὁρῶσι θεόν). 20 Cf. the theophany to Moses on the rock (Exod. 33), where Moses asks to see God’s glory. God does not grant his request directly, but instead replies, “I will make my goodness pass before you” (Exod. 33:19).

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chapter two The prophets, then, foretold that God would be seen by people, as the Lord also says, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.” But according to God’s greatness and indescribable glory, “no one will see God and live,” for the Father is incomprehensible; but according to his love and kindness and infinite power, even this he grants to those who love him, that is, to see God.21

In other words, God cannot be seen in se but only as God acts in the world out of love. Furthermore, the vision of God must be granted by the divine will, and therefore it cannot be attained by one’s own powers of vision. Thus, the vision of God is impossible for human beings; nevertheless it is made possible by God’s good will and kindness toward creation.22 This distinction between the vision of God in se and by divine will is prominent in early Christian interpretation of the theophany narratives, and it will reappear as trinitarian and theological language evolves in the dogmatic controversies of the fourth century. Another common feature to patristic theophany exegesis highlights a central verse from the theophany to Moses, “No one can see God and live” (Exod. 33:20). While this verse underscores the impossibility of seeing God and implies that the vision of God brings death to mortals, Irenaeus turns the focus from death to life. Acknowledging that the prophets saw God and that the pure in heart will see God, Irenaeus stresses that those who see God according to divine love and kindness are made alive by this vision:

21 adv. haer. 4.20.5: Praesignificabant igitur prophetae quoniam videbitur Deus ab hominibus, quemadmodum et Dominus ait: Beati mundo corde, quoniam ipsi Deum videbunt. Sed secundum magnitudinem quidem eius et inenarrabilem gloriam, nemo videbit Deum et vivet, incapabilis enim Pater, secundum autem dilectionem et humanitatem et quod omnia possit, etiam hoc concedit his qui se diligunt, id est videre Deum; Προεμήνυον οὖν οἱ προφῆται ὅτι ὁραθήσεται ὁ θεὸς ὑπὸ τῶν ἀνθρώπων, ὁς καὶ ὁ κύριός φησιν· Μακάριοι οἱ καθαροὶ τῇ καρδίᾳ, ὅτι αὐτοὶ τὸν θεὸν ὄψονται. ʼΑλλὰ κατὰ μὲν τὸ μέγεθος αὐτοῦ καὶ τήν ἀνεξήγητον δόξαν οὐδεὶς ὄψεται τὸν θεὸν καὶ ζήσεται,

ἀχώρητος γὰρ ὁ πατήρ· κατὰ δὲ τὴν ἀγάπην καὶ τὴν φιλανθρωπίαν καὶ τὸ δύνασθαι αὐτὸν πάντα, καὶ τοῦτο ἐνδίδωσι τοῖς ἀγαπῶσιν αὐτὸν, τὸ ὁρᾶν θεόν. 22

adv. haer. 4.20.5 reads: “For one does not see God by one’s own powers, but God will be seen by people as God wills, to those whom God wills, when God wills, and in the manner that God wills” (Homo etenim a se non videbit Deum; ille autem volens videbitur hominibus, quibus vult et quando vult et quemadmodum vult; καὶ γὰρ ὁ μὲν ἄνθρωπος ἀφʼ ἑαυτοῦ οὐκ ὄψεται θεόν· ὁ δὲ θεὸς βουλόμενος ὀφθήσεται ἀνθρώποις, οἷς βούλεται καὶ ὁπότε βούλεται καὶ καθὼς βούλεται.)

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Those who see God are in God, and receive of His splendor. But [His] splendor vivifies them; those, therefore, who see God, do receive life. And for this reason, He, [although] beyond comprehension, and boundless and invisible, rendered Himself visible, and comprehensible, and within the capacity of those who believe, that He might vivify those who receive and behold Him. . . . It is not possible to live apart from life, and the means of life is found in fellowship with God; but fellowship with God is to know God and to enjoy His goodness.23

Thus the vision of God enlivens those who see God by their very participation in God (4.20.6). For Irenaeus, the verse “no one can see God and live” refers to vision of God’s glory and greatness, which is impossible. But God has allowed a certain “vision” through participating in God’s goodness, i.e., God’s gracious interaction with creation. This interaction occurs pre-eminently in the incarnation, but Irenaeus is also speaking explicitly of the prophets as well as the future kingdom of heaven. Thus, the possibility of the vision of God and rebirth exists in history as well as in the life to come. God grants this vision in various dispensations to keep humanity from falling away from God entirely and to give life to all the earth by manifestations through created means (4.20.7). While the vision of God’s goodness and actions gives life to human beings, it also provides hope of even greater vision. In the Exodus 33 narrative, Irenaeus takes the Word’s refusal to allow Moses to see his face as a promise of the vision of God in the future. Although it is impossible for Moses to see God’s face, Moses is granted a vision of God’s back while Moses takes shelter in the cleft of the rock. Irenaeus thinks the rock signifies the incarnation, when the promise to Moses

23 adv. haer. 4.20.5: Qui vident Deum intra Deum sunt, percipientes eius claritatem. Vivificat autem Dei claritas: percipiunt ergo vitam qui vident Deum. Et propter hoc incapabilis et incomprehensibils visibilem se et comprehensibilem et capacem hominibus praestat, ut vivificet percipientes et videntes se. . . . Quoniam vivere sine vita impossibile est, subsistentia autem vitae de Dei participatione evenit, participatio autem Dei est videre Deum et frui benignitate eius; οἱ βλέποντες τὸν Θεὸν ἐντός εἰσι τοῦ Θεοῦ, μετέχοντες αὐτοῦ τῆς λαμπρότητος: ζωοποιοῦσα δὲ ἡ τοῦ Θεοῦ λαμπρότης: ζωῆς οὖν μεθέξουσιν οἱ ὁρῶντες Θεόν. Καὶ διὰ τοῦτο ὁ ἀχώρητος καὶ ἀκατάληπτος καὶ ἀόρατος ὁρώμενον ἑαυτὸν καὶ καταλαμβανόμενον καὶ χωρούμενον τοῖς ἀνθρώποις παρέχει, ἵνα ζωοποιήσῃ τοὺς χωροῦντας καὶ βλέποντας αὐτόν . . . ʼΕπεὶ ζῆσαι ἄνευ ζωῆς ἀδύνατον, ἡ δὲ ὕπαρξις τῆς ζωῆς ἐκ τῆς τοῦ Θεοῦ περιγίνεται μετοχῆς, μετοχὴ δὲ Θεοῦ ἐστι τὸ ὁρᾶν Θεὸν καὶ ἀπολαύειν τῆς χρηστότητος αὐτοῦ.

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is fulfilled in the theophany of the transfiguration.24 From this one can see that for Irenaeus, the biblical theophanies are promises of God that are fulfilled in the incarnation (4.20.9), but that even in fulfillment they do not bring the direct vision of the “face of God” (4.20.10), but vision through God’s condescension and adaptation to human form. Moses’ vision of God in the transfiguration suggests a fuller manifestation of God’s glory, which orients Christian hope toward eschatological vision. Further, the theophanies prior to the incarnation reveal “likenesses of the Lord’s splendor” (similitudines claritatis Domini; ὁμοίωμα δόξης κυρίου), not God’s very self (4.20.11). The Word is the “interpreter” (interpretator; ἐξηγητὴς) in the theophanies, showing the Father’s brightness. The revelation of God through the Word is multiform, taking place in many figures according to God’s purposes in the various dispensations (secundum dispensationum eius causas sive efficaciam; κατὰ τἀς τῶν οἰκονομιῶν αὐτοῦ ἀπεργασίας 4.20.11). In this way, the Word was also seen or represented in the fiery furnace (Daniel 3), as well as in the visions of Daniel 7 and Revelation 1 and 19. Thus God teaches through various dispensations—the theophanies of Moses and Elijah, apocalyptic visions, and even the actions of prophets25—by the Word’s figurative and multiform revelations of things to come. In this view, the theophanies are certain dispensations among many that teach of God’s goodness and reveal God’s promises. They are effected by the Word and originate from the Father’s will, but they do not manifest God’s very self. Rather, they reveal how God acts in and through creation. In the theophanies, God makes the impossible possible, as the Word draws people to participate in God and to “see” God’s love and power. In this way, God preserves humanity that would otherwise fall from true life into non-existence. Irenaeus

24 In adv. haer. 4.20.9 Irenaeus says of the Exodus 33 theophany: Utraque significans, quoniam et impossibilis est homo videre Deum, et quoniam per sapientiam Dei in novissimis temporibus videbit eum homo in altitudine petrae, hoc est in eo qui est secundum hominem eius adventu. Et propter hoc facie ad faciem confabulatus est cum eo in altitudine montis, assistente etiam Helia, quemadmodum Evangelium retulit, restituens in fine pristinam repromissionem; τὰ ἀμφότερα σημαίνων, ὅτι τε ἀδύνατος ὁ ἄνθρωπος ἰδεῖν θεόν, καὶ ὅτι διὰ τῆς τοῦ θεοῦ σοφίας ἐν τῷ τέλει ὄψεται αὐτὸν ὁ ἄνθρωπος ἐπὶ σκοπῆς τῆς πέτρας, τουτέστιν ἐν τῇ κατʼ ἄνθρωπον αὐτοῦ παρουσίᾳ. Καὶ διὰ τοῦτο ἐνώπιος ἐνωπίῳ συνωμίλησεν αὐτῷ ἐν τῷ ὄρει, συμπαρόντος καὶ τοῦ ʼΗλίου, ὡς τὸ εὐαγγέλιον διηγήσατο, ἀποκαταστήσας ἐν τῷ τέλει τήν προτέραν ἐπαγγελίαν. 25 Such as Hosea’s marriage, described by Irenaeus in 4.20.12.

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assumes that the Word is the agent of the theophanies, but he focuses mostly upon the agent’s life-giving effects rather than his identity. The emphasis upon vivification, the distinction between God’s glory and goodness, the role of the divine will in seeing God, and the eschatological fulfillment of the theophanies establish the major contours of the spiritual strand, which various authors will develop in the third and fourth centuries. Overall, Irenaeus develops theophany interpretation by exploring how and why God was seen in the theophanies. In exploring the tension between biblical verses that deny the possibility of seeing God and those that affirm that certain figures did see God, Irenaeus defines more precisely what this vision entails: not the brilliance of God’s glory, but the Son’s “exegesis” of the Father through visible forms such as human appearance. Further, the purpose of such visions points toward the life-giving effects of the Word becoming flesh, allowing human beings to have fellowship with God and to enjoy God’s goodness. Clarifying that God’s goodness, and not God’s glory or self, was seen, Irenaeus also stresses the role of the divine will in making the vision of God possible. As with spiritual application of the extramission theory, such vision is not possible by human powers alone but requires God’s help. Further, the theophanies mediated by visible forms are not true visions of God, yet they increase one’s desire to see God and point towards eschatological fufillment. By placing his christological reading in the context of spiritual vivification and hope, Irenaeus focuses on grace and desire, two of the most important applications of the extramission theory to Christian views of the spiritual vision of God. Tertullian The late second/early third century north African theologian Tertullian likewise developed the spiritual implications of the theophanies, although he wrote with markedly different style and concerns than Irenaeus. An innovative apologist who was well educated in Latin and Greek rhetoric and philosophy, Tertullian was ordained a presbyter, and later in life he joined the rigorous Montanists. He engaged many of the doctrinal conversies of his time, arguing against both Marcionism and modalist monarchianism. Some of Tertullian’s theophany exegesis emerged in polemical arguments over christology, overlapping with themes explored in the first chapter of this study.

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Nevertheless, Tertullian’s emphasis on the connection between theophany and incarnation, combined with the potential for transformation presented by the theophanies, merits different thematic treatment in this chapter. Tertullian’s exegesis, more than any other, takes up the angelic mediation of the theophanies as spiritually transformative. Angels represent a middle state between human beings and God as spiritual creatures who minister to God through their activity in the world. They also demonstrate the possibility of transformation, descending to human interaction and ascending to God. As mediators, they can elevate human beings to a higher spiritual state and a more intimate relationship with God. Like Christ, angels can take on real bodies to reach human beings through their sensory perception, and thereby raise people from their physical, sensory existence to a higher spiritual state. Tertullian’s emphasis on the relation of the theophanies to the incarnation emerges in his anti-Gnostic and anti-Marcionite writings. In his treatise De carne Christi (ca. 203–208), Tertullian compares the true body of Christ in the incarnation to the true bodies that angels take on in the pre-incarnation theophanies.26 Tertullian insists that these angels truly changed into human form (effigiem humanam and corpulentiam humanam) for the duration of the theophanies, yet they remained angels as before (De carne 3.6, 3.7). This parallels the incarnation, in which Christ, by virtue of his higher nature, did what is impossible for human beings: God changed and yet continued to exist the same as before the incarnation.27 Tertullian further explains this change as an assumption of an “extraneous substance” that does not destroy or alter the subject’s own substance.28 Here Tertullian is explicitly referring to the theophanies of the Holy Spirit as a dove

26

Note this is a different emphasis on the angelic manifestations than in Justin and Philo, who both think that the visitors at Mamre only appeared to eat and drink (Justin, dial. 57; Philo, Abr. 118). 27 carne 3.7: Quod ergo angelis inferioris dei licuit, uti conversi in corpulentiam humanam angeli nihilominus permanerent, hoc tu potentiori deo auferes quasi non valuerit Christus eius vere hominem indutus deus perseverare? Aut numquid et angeli illi phantasma carnis apparuerunt? Sed non audebis hoc dicere. Nam si sic apud te angeli creatoris sicut et Christus, eius dei erit Christus cuius angeli tales qualis et Christus. The Latin text is from: Tertullian, La Chair du Christ, ed. Jean-Pierre Mahé, SC 216 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1975). All English translations of Tertullian in this chapter are mine. 28 carne 3.8: Nec interfecerat substantiam propriam assumpta substantia extranea.

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and of the angels as human, but he holds the same idea for the Son’s assumption of human nature (homo) in the incarnation. Tertullian argues that since his opponents accept the bodily reality of the theophanies, they should also accept that God could become incarnate without any change in the divine substance.29 Thus Tertullian reads the theophanies as support for his christology: their similarity is their true corporeality (corporis soliditas; De carne 3.9) combined with the constancy of their own proper spiritual substance. Tertullian’s concern for the true bodies assumed by the angels arises from how his opponents compare the theophanies and the incarnation. If, as Tertullian claims they argue, the two types of divine manifestations are similar and the angels appeared in bodies without being born, then Christ too was not born (De carne 6). Here Tertullian contrasts the bodily nature of the theophanies and the incarnate Christ by stressing the difference of purpose in the two. For Tertullian, the purpose of Christ’s body was to be crucified and raised. Therefore, his body had to be born to be capable of death (De carne 6.5–8). In contrast, the angels did not have to die, and therefore their bodies were assumed for a time but were not born (De carne 6.9–10). This difference of purpose does not diminish the true quality of the bodies, but it explains the different modes of generation. This difference of purpose also points toward the distinctive spiritual effects of the theophanies, which teach of the possibilities of spiritual transformation, and of the incarnation, which overcomes mortality. In his Adversus Marcionem (ca. 203–208), Tertullian explores these diverse purposes of the theophanies and the incarnation more fully. While he uses many of the arguments in De carne Christi to support his view of the true corporeality of the theophanies, in Adversus Marcionem he turns to the effects of the theophanies, comparing the angels’ assumption of visible forms with God’s intention to transform humanity. He writes that God “has promised to re-form human beings into angels one day, who once formed angels into human beings.”30

29 carne 3.6: Angelos creatoris conversos in effigiem humanam aliquando legisti et credidisti et tantam corporis veritatem gestasse, ut et pedes eis laverit Abraham et manibus ipsorum ereptus sit Sodomitis Loth, conluctatus quoque homini angelus toto corporis pondere dimitti desideraverit adeo detinebatur. 30 adv. Marc. 3.9: Ut nunc recordemur et haereticis renuntiemus eius esse promissum homines in angelos reformandi quandoque qui angelos in homines formarit aliquando. Latin text is from: Contre Marcion, ed. René Braun, SC 369, 399 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1991, 1994).

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For Tertullian, the goal of becoming angelic is both spiritual and eschatological (Matt. 22:30, Mark 12:25, Luke 20:36; see Tertullian, adv. Marc. 3.9). The theophanies serve God’s purpose of sanctifying and transforming people by demonstrating the possibility of movement between human life and angelic life. That the transformation from the higher angelic state to the lower human one was already enacted by God in biblical narratives implies that the corresponding transformation from lower to higher is not only possible and but also the divinely intended telos of human life. Much of Tertullian’s interpretation of the theophanies views the angels as their subjects, in comparison with Christ as the subject of the incarnation. Yet, Tertullian also shares in the early Christian view that the Son is made manifest in the theophanies, and he develops the implications of this claim for faith. Both Adversus Marcionem and his later Adversus Praxean (ca. 210)31 offer a christological reading of certain theophanies. Tertullian writes that Christ “from the beginning held converse with [human beings]; that he himself communed with patriarchs and prophets.”32 Tertullian understands the Son’s particular role in these pre-incarnation manifestations as part of his dispensation derived from the Father to commune with people (adv. Marc. 2.27; adv. Prax. 6, 14–16). The Son acts in accord with the Father’s will in all divine actions in the world, and together they accomplish the Father’s will.33 In the theophanies, the Word’s particular role is to “learn as God to converse with human beings,” since he would one day become flesh.34 Although this sounds like the purpose of the theophanies was

31 Praxeas was a modalist monarchian, like Sabellius. Tertullian’s polemic, then, argues for the distinct role of the Son in salvation history. This, in turn, accounts for Tertullian’s heightened christological emphasis in his theophany interpretation, demonstrating how the Son is distinct from the Father and is active in history. 32 adv. Marc. 2.27: Nam et profitemur Christum semper egisse in Dei Patris nomine, ipsum ab initio conversatum, ipsum congressum cum patriarchis et prophetis, Filum Creatoris, sermonem eius. See also De carne Christi 6 on how the “Lord himself ” appeared to Abraham at Mamre among the angels, and he was in flesh, not yet born, “rehearsing” (ediscebat) how to converse with humanity. 33 adv. Prax. 16.1: Nec putes sola opera mundi per Filium facta sed et quae a Deo exinde gesta sunt. Latin text is from: Contro Prassea, ed. Giuseppe Scarpat, CP 12 (Torino: Società Editrice Internazionale, 1985). 34 Here Tertullian bears similarity to Irenaeus, who articulates in adv. haer. 4 that the whole trajectory of salvation history teaches human beings how to live in union with God. See adv. Prax. 16.3: Ipse enim et ad humana semper colloquia descendit, ab Adam usque ad patriarchas et prophetas, in visione, in somnio, in speculo, in aenigmate ordinem suum praestruens ab initio semper, quem erat persecuturus in fine. Ita semper

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to accustom the Son to such manifestation, Tertullian also describes this habituation as part of the Son’s activity in bringing people to faith, that is, in accustoming those who learn of the theophanies to believe in the Son’s descent to the world. He writes, He was learning [to converse with humanity on earth] in order to pave for us the way of faith, that we might more easily believe that the Son of God came down to the world if we knew that such a thing had been done in the past. For it was on our account that these things were done as is written.35

Thus, the theophanies teach the possibility and even propriety of the Son’s incarnate interaction with humanity. By taking upon himself bodily form in various pre-incarnation appearances, he makes faith in a God who enters into human experience more credible. Like Irenaeus, Tertullian also views theophanies not as true visions of God, but as eschatological promises. He too connects God’s promise to speak with Moses face to face (Num. 12:6–8) with fulfillment in the transfiguration of Christ, who in a glorified state spoke with Moses and Elijah.36 Further, Tertullian thinks that any Old Testament vision of God refers not to seeing the fullness of the divinity but to seeing only according to human capacity.37 According to Tertullian, human eyes cannot see the invisible God, and therefore the patriarchs’, the prophets’, and even Moses’ vision of God must be of the Son, and even then in the form of an enigma.38 According to Tertullian, the theophanies prepare for the sight of God as a foretaste, a partial glimpse that will be fulfilled in future revelation. This revelation is eschatological, since Tertullian connects fulfillment not with Christ’s incarnation but with the exceptional manifestation of glory in the transfiguration, an event only matched biblically with Christ’s second coming in glory. In this ediscebat, et Deus, in terris cum hominibus conversari, non alius quam sermo qui caro erat futurus. 35 adv. Prax. 16.3–4: Ediscebat autem ut nobis fidem sterneret, ut facilius crederemus Filium Dei descendisse in saeculum, retro tale quid gestum cognosceremus. Propter nos enim sicut scripta sunt ita et gesta sunt. 36 adv. Prax. 14.7: Igitur cum Moysi servat conspectum suum et colloquium facie ad faciem in futurum,—nam hoc postea adimpletum est in monti secessu, sicut legimus in evangelio visum cum illo Moysen colloquentem. 37 adv. Prax. 14.2: Visum quidem Deum secundum hominum capacitates, non secundum plenitudinem divinitatis. 38 adv. Prax. 14.7: Apparet retro semper in speculo et aenigmate et visione et somnio Deum, id est Filium Dei, visum tam prophetis et patriarchis quam et ipsi adhuc Moysi.

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sense, the narrative of the transfiguration itself serves as a promise to believers of seeing God’s glory in life to come. Additionally, Tertullian interprets “enigma” as a promise of future vision even for those who believe in the incarnate Christ (cf. 1 Cor. 13:12). Thus, both the theophanies and the incarnation point toward the telos of Christian spirituality, eschatological vision. Tertullian, like Irenaeus, sees in the theophany narratives hope for greater vision. Both authors consider how God was seen, distinguishing between a vision of God’s true being and what human faculties can see. They also understand that the will of the Father is critical in the theophanies, as Tertullian argues strongly that God did not need the instrumentality of bodies in the theophanies, but rather God chose to make the bodies worthy instruments (adv. Marc. 3.10). Further, both stress the purpose of the theophanies for spiritual growth. For Tertullian, the theophanies teach of the possibility of becoming angelic, they make faith in Christ’s incarnation more credible, and they reveal God’s eschatological promises of true spiritual vision. They prepare for this vision by giving a foretaste of seeing God, thereby increasing one’s desire for spiritual vision. Origen of Alexandria: Will and grace The exegesis of Irenaeus and Tertullian establishes that the theophanies are occasions of spiritual vivification and transformation, of learning that the invisible God is mediated by the Son visibly for the purpose of developing faith, and of discerning what can and cannot be seen in a vision of God in this life. Against the background of ancient theories of vision and the spiritual application of the extramission theory, the third-century catechist and exegete Origen of Alexandria refines his understanding of how God is seen in such visions, highlighting the centrality of grace and divine will. His interpretation influenced later authors, particularly his argument that the divine nature was not seen in any theophany or vision. Yet for Origen, the vision of God promised to the pure in heart is an eschatological reality that drives human desire for spiritual growth. Bringing these two elements together, Origen develops the spiritual strand with greater clarity on how and why God was manifested in visions. Writing in Alexandria in the early to middle third century and influenced by Middle Platonism, Origen adds greater precision to

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the question of what the recipients of the theophanies could actually see with their eyes and could apprehend spiritually. In turn, his ideas directly influence Ambrose (chapter three) and Augustine (chapter six) in their reading of the theophany narratives.39 In his third homily on Luke (Luke 1:11, on the angel’s appearance to Zechariah at the altar of incense),40 Origen addresses the vision of God and what it might mean that Abraham and the prophets were said to have seen God. Origen makes two key distinctions, between bodily and spiritual vision and between God’s will and nature. Regarding the first distinction, human beings are not capable of seeing God (or angels) with their own eyes, i.e., in bodily vision. However, God gives grace to the pure in heart to allow them to see God.41 Thus the just and pure are able to come to the vision of God, but by grace only, which is given according to their spiritual worthiness.42 This vision of God is spiritual, because it is made possible only by grace and is perceived with the “eye of the heart” rather than the eye of the body.43 So even Moses, who saw the “back parts” of God, saw not with his bodily eyes but with his mind and heart, and even his vision was only partial.44 For Origen, this is true both in the present age and in the age to come;45 God simply

39 For more on Origen’s influence on Ambrose, and Ambrose’s on Augustine, see Basil Studer, Zur Theophanie-Exegese Augustins: Untersuchungen zu einem AmbrosiusZitat in der Schrift De videndo Deo, Ep 147, Studia Anselmiana 59 (Rome: Herder, 1971). 40 Homélies sur S. Luc, ed. Henri Crouzel, François Fournier, and Pierre Périchon, SC 87 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1998). 41 Hom. Luc. 3.1: Gratia Dei fuit, ut appareret Abrahae vel ceteris prophetis, non quod oculus tantum cordis Abraham in causa fuerit, ut cerneret Deum, sed quod gratia Dei ultro se adspiciendam praebuerit viro iusto. See also Contra Celsum 6.69: God is invisible, but can be seen by those who see with the heart, i.e., spiritual or intellectual vision. 42 Hom. Luc. 3.3: Sed ille tantum videbit, qui mundum habuerit cor et talem se praebuerit, ut Dei sit dignus aspectu. 43 As quoted above, Hom. Luc. 3.1 describes how the eye of Abraham’s heart was not the only cause in his perception of God: non quod oculus tantum cordis Abraham in causa fuerit, ut cerneret Deum. If it is not the (sole) cause of the perception, then at least it indicates the manner of perception: with the heart, i.e., spiritual vision. 44 De principiis 2.4.3: Hoc ergo modo etiam Moyses deum vidisse putandus est, non oculis eum carnalibus intuens, sed visu cordis ac sensu mentis intellegens, et hoc ex parte aliqua. Text is from: Origen, Traité des Principes, t. 1, ed. Henri Crouzel and Manlio Simonetti, SC 252 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1978). 45 Hom. Luc. 3.3: Et hoc non tantum in praesenti saeculo dicimus, sed etiam in futuro, cum migraverimus e mundo, quod non omnibus vel Deus vel angeli appareant, quo scilicet et angelos et Spiritum sanctum et Dominum Salvatorem et ipsum Deum Patrem is, qui de corpore exierit, statim mereatur videre.

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cannot be seen with the eyes, but only by spiritual progression and transformation through grace, for Moses and the reader of scripture alike. In the extramission theory of vision developed in Middle Platonism, vision occurs by means of an inner light that proceeds through the eyes and merges with daylight, forming rays that touch visible objects. For Origen, the visible object touched in the theophany is not God, and therefore the bodily vision of a theophany is distinct from knowing God spiritually. The divinity is to some extent hidden by physical forms, even as these forms draw the attention toward God’s presence mediated in visible phenomena. However, the extramission theory provides an apt metaphor for how one comes to know intellectual truths by means of divine illumination.46 In this metaphorical sense, one may “see” God spiritually as divine grace presented to the recipient of the theophany elevates his or her intellect, directing its gaze toward intellectual truth. However, even this intellectual vision is partial, limited by one’s own weak intellect but capable of growth as the intellect is strengthened by divine illumination. Thus, the physical phenomena that are literally seen in a theophany are, for Origen, not ultimately meaningful, yet in the case of Zechariah and Moses, they are an occasion for the pure in heart to receive grace and perceive God spiritually or inwardly. Regarding his second distinction between God’s will and nature, Origen claims that human powers of sight, whether bodily or spiritual, are not capable of beholding God unless God wills to be seen.47 Therefore, God is not visible by nature, and human intellectual powers, however worthy and purified by grace, are incapable of the vision of God of themselves. Rather, it lies within the will of God to be seen or not. Thus, two things are needed for a theophany: God must will to be seen, and God must assist the viewer to become spiritually capable of seeing God. Not only was this true for Abraham and the prophets (Hom. Luc. 3.1), but also for those who saw Christ. Origen says that not everyone who “laid eyes on Christ” was able to see him; they may

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Hauck, “Like a Gleaming Flash,” 566. Hom. Luc. 3.1: E contrario ea, quae superna sunt et divina, etiam cum in praesenti fuerint, non videntur, nisi ipsa voluerint; et in voluntate eorum est videri vel non videri. 47

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have seen his body, but they did not see him as Christ.48 Thus the vision of God, even when mediated through a real, visible, tangible body, requires both God’s will and grace to transform the viewer. This second distinction indicates a sharp contrast between physical vision and spiritual vision. In physical vision, according to the extramission theory, sight lies in the power of the viewer who, aided by light, directs his or her visual rays toward visible objects. In contrast, in a theophany the bodily eyes may see the visible phenomena but the “eye of the heart” may still not perceive the divine or angelic presence. Instead, God must will to be seen and also give grace (divine illumination) for the recipient to “see” Christ or the angel in the visible forms. In this sense, spiritual vision is recast by making the viewer subordinate to illumination. Spiritual vision begins with divine initiative to be present under a visible form, proceeds with divine grace illuminating the spiritual senses, and ends with the “eyes of the heart” receiving the vision. Nevertheless, the viewer has the real capacity for spiritual vision, promised to the pure in heart, when assisted by grace. These ideas—distinguishing what the bodily eyes see and what the spirit perceives in a theophany, as well as the necessity of grace and divine will for spiritual vision—further develop the belief that the theophanies are not simple apprehensions of divine presence. Rather, they involve partial vision, delayed promises to see God and hopes for future fulfillment, and the real possibility that two people viewing the same theophany might see the same visible things but have radically different spiritual perceptions of presence. If this is true, it is also true that the same person might see the same phenomena at different times and have entirely different perceptions of the spiritual realities mediated through those phenomena. Such cases highlight the necessity of spiritual growth and transformation, as aided by divine illumination, for the vision of God.

48 Hom. Luc. 3.3–4: Tale quid mihi intellegendum et de Christo, quando in corpore videbatur, quod non, quicunque eum videbant, poterant videre. Videbant quippe tantum corpus illius, secundum vero quod Christus erat, eum videre non poterant. Cf. Contra Celsum 2.64, where Origen says that Jesus was seen according to people’s ability to receive him, as in the transfiguration. Therefore the apostles, who had “higher organs” of sight and hearing, could see Jesus with both the eyes of the body and the eyes of the soul.

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chapter two Gregory of Nyssa: Vision, eternal progress, and desire

Gregory of Nyssa, the late fourth-century Greek theologian perhaps best known for his influence upon the development of Trinitarian doctrine, moves the interpretation of theophanies even further beyond questions of identity and toward questions of how and why God was manifested. He emphasizes that the vision of God requires spiritual progress, which is unlimited because its goal is the infinite God. Thus, in Gregory’s reading, contemplating the vision of God that Moses received is an occasion for reflecting on the eternal, progressive, unbounded nature of the desire to see or know God. Gregory takes up these questions most explicitly in his Life of Moses, influenced by Philo’s treatise of the same title.49 In this work Gregory notably uses little literal christological exegesis of the theophanies, probably due to a combination of factors: the rise of literal christological reading in the mid-fourth century to support the subordination of the Son to the Father (chapter three), Gregory’s focus on the incomprehensibility of God, and the treatise’s focus on exhortation to virtue rather than doctrinal definition. Still, Gregory is significant for this study because he develops a connection between the theophany narratives and Christ’s incarnation, emphasizing spiritual transformation and desire in seeing God. Likely written in the late 390s in response to a request for a treatise on the perfect life (1.2), Gregory looks to Moses as an example of virtue to be imitated, recasting the ideal of spiritual perfection as eternal growth in virtue rather than as a static standard. He relies on figurative and moral reading to connect the reader with the text, arguing that it is impossible for anyone else to imitate Moses in his historical particularity. Rather, one must emulate his virtue, interpreting such things as Moses’s birth as the choice of the will to “birth” itself in virtue and his Egyptian upbringing as the choice to learn from pagan philosophy without compromising one’s faith in the God of Israel (1.14–15; 2.1–11). The treatise is developed recursively in two parts, each of which comments upon the biblical narrative. Part one consists of the historia, 49

Gregory of Nyssa, The Life of Moses, trans. Abraham J. Malherbe and Everett Ferguson, The Classics of Western Spirituality (New York: Paulist, 1978); La Vie de Moïse, ed. Jean Daniélou, reprint of 3rd ed., SC 1 bis (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 2007).

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a retelling of the narrative with some interpretative embellishments and omissions, and part two is the theoria, a contemplation of the narrative that connects the story’s elements with aspects of the Christian life. In the theoria Gregory often uses types and figures to illustrate how the narrative’s elements represent something spiritual. The theophanies featured in the treatise include the burning bush narrative (Exod. 3) as well as Moses’ encounters with God in the darkness on Mount Sinai (Exod. 20) and seeing God’s back pass by while standing sheltered in a rock (Exod. 33). In the historia, Gregory emphasizes that Moses saw the theophany at midday, and the light from the fire was brighter than the sunlight (1.20). Additionally, the bush was on the mountain above Moses, so that he looked up at the light. These are embellishments to the biblical text, which does not mention time of day, the elevation of the bush relative to Moses, or the intensity of the light of the fire (Exod. 3:1–3). Gregory adds that the light also illuminated Moses’ hearing, enabling him to hear of the voice of God. By connecting the light with illumination of both vision and hearing, Gregory connects the disparate manifestations of the theophany—fire and voice—and emphasizes that in a theophany, the purpose of physical phenomena is to illuminate and elevate the intellect through the senses. Commenting on Exodus 3 in the theoria section, Gregory deepens the connection between vision and inner enlightenment, saying that “truth is God and truth is light” (2.20: Θεὸς μὲν ἡ ἀλήθεια, ἡ δὲ ἀλήθεια φῶς ἐστι), and that this truth illumines “the eyes of our soul with its own rays” (2.19: ταῖς ἰδίαις μαρμαρυγαῖς τὰς τῆς ψυχῆς ὄψεις περιαυγάζουσα). The meaning of the theophany, at least according to the theoria, is the illumination of the soul by God. Keeping with Gregory’s theme that Moses is not to be imitated in the particular events of his life but in his virtue, this means that the theophany narrative presents an occasion for the reader to cultivate his or her own knowledge of truth by purifying one’s conceptions of nonbeing, correlating to the moment when Moses removes his sandals made of dead animal skins (2.22). While Gregory does not claim that the burning bush is a literal manifestation of Christ, he connects the theophany to Christ’s incarnation and birth from the Virgin. For as the light of the fire did not come from the stars but in a thorny bush that was not consumed, so too, Gregory claims, light shone upon human nature from the God who

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was seen in the flesh (2.20), so that the flower of Mary’s virginity was not consumed or withered in the act of giving birth (2.21). Here Gregory associates the thorny bush with Christ’s humanity, taken from the Virgin without diminishing her own physical integrity, through which his divinity is revealed. Yet, Gregory also associates the bush with the reader’s humanity, saying that one should take off any earthly covering and look to the light that shines through thorny flesh (2.26). Thus the thorny bush suggests both Christ’s humanity and the humanity of those who receive divine light in their souls, as the Virgin received the Word. Again, the contemplative meaning of the narrative is the reception of light in one’s own soul, not the external phenomena. However, Gregory’s emphasis on light in Exodus 3 contrasts with his greater sense of encountering God in darkness. Reading Exodus 20:21 (“Moses drew near to the darkness where God was,” followed by God giving the law to Moses) as a kind of anti-theophany, Gregory connects darkness with going beyond the visible and beyond the abilities of the intellect (1.46). Noting that this second theophany of darkness seems to contradict the burning bush revelation through light (2.162), Gregory claims that religious knowledge at first is perceived as light, in contrast to the darkness of contrary beliefs. However, the more the mind advances in contemplation of being, the more it encounters the incomprehensibility of God (2.162–163). Thus, a higher form of knowing is realizing that one cannot comprehend the divinity, and likewise a higher form of seeing is not seeing (2.163), realizing that “that which is sought transcends all knowledge, being separated on all sides by incomprehensibility as by a kind of darkness” (2.163: ὑπέρκειται πάσης εἰδήσεως τὸ ζητούμενον, οἷόν τινι γνόφω̣ τῆ̣ ἀκαταληψία̣ πανταχόθεν διειλημμένον). Thus true Being is inaccessible to knowledge (2.35) and can only be seen in contemplation. Again, this theophany’s implications for Gregory lie in one’s own realization that spiritual growth involves negation and transcendence of previous knowledge. In this way, the theophany’s meaning is unfolded in personal spiritual growth, and it relativizes any static claims that God might be seen or comprehended. Similarly, in the theoria account of the burning bush (2.22) Moses comes to know true Being, realizing that none of the things grasped by the senses truly subsists (2.24). The theophany thus reveals by contrast even more than by likeness: while the light of truth illuminates the soul, it also minimizes the value of the sensible things.

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Theophanies, for Gregory, are ultimately apophatic, challenging human claims to knowledge through their sense perception and intellectual contemplation. Gregory even casts doubt on the literal value of the theophany narratives, claiming that a literal reading of the Exodus 33 account in which Moses sees God’s back would yield an inappropriate concept of God (2.221). Thus a literal reading—that God has a back, that God occupied and passed through physical space—actually obscures the true meaning. Rather, the incorruptible, incorporeal God (2.222), who cannot be grasped intellectually let alone physically, transcends such physical manifestations. Gregory finds a spiritual sense to this narrative in the desire for God: “the true sight of God consists in this, that the one who looks up to God never ceases in that desire” (2.233: ὡς ἐν τούτω̣ ὄντος τοῦ ἀληθῶς ἰδεῖν τὸν Θεὸν ἐν τῶ̣ μὴ λῆξαί ποτε τῆς ἐπιθυμίας τὸν πρὸς αὐτὸν ἀναβλέποντα). There is no limit to God, as limits are imposed by opposites and there is no opposite to the divine (1.7), and therefore the desire for what is infinite can never reach an end (2.239). Gregory claims that Exodus 33 is the highest theophany granted to Moses (2.41), surpassing all others. This theophany, then, relativizes all others; by identifying vision with desire, and by asserting that desire for God can increase eternally, Gregory recasts the vision of God, which is the apex of spiritual experience, as ever progressing even in eternity. Simply, there is no point when one has seen God completely; there is always growth in desire for God. Yet, in one important respect Gregory reads Exodus 33 christologically. Connecting the rock in which Moses stands to Christ (2.244, 2.248), Gregory comments on the fact that Moses sees God’s back and not face. Quoting several gospel verses in which Jesus asks his disciples to follow him (Luke 9:23, 18:22), Gregory asserts that to see another’s back is to follow him, and therefore being Christ’s disciple is a more enduring and intimate form of vision of God (2.251ff ). In contrast to the narrative’s claim that Moses spoke with God face to face (Exod. 33:11), Gregory argues that a deeper form of vision is a life of spiritual obedience and virtue, following the way set out by Christ. While the great mountaintop theophanies of Exodus actually reveal God apophatically for Gregory, he finds a kataphatic application of the greatest theophany to Moses (Exod. 33) in following Christ in the pursuit of virtue.

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chapter two Conclusion

Gregory brings the spiritual strand of theophany narrative exegesis developed by Irenaeus, Tertullian, and Origen to an apophatic spirituality of unknowing. In contrast to the polemical-doctrinal strand’s positive focus on identity, these authors associate the vision of God with partial seeing and even, for Gregory, with darkness. Exploring the tension inherent in differing biblical claims about whether God can be seen or not, these authors recognize that stories about seeing God in visible phenomena are complex and elusive. All of them recognize that something remains unseen or uncomprehended in such visions: for Irenaeus, God’s glory exceeds human powers of vision; for Tertullian, the Son is visibly manifested in his activity and not in his nature as God and Word; for Origen, spiritual vision is inward, assisted by grace, subject to divine will, and even then remains partial; for Gregory, all positive claims to knowledge of God are relativized by the incomprehensibility of God that is symbolized by darkness. Thus, as they interpret the spiritual implications of these narratives, they emphasize human limitations, the need for grace, and the centrality of hope and desire for God while waiting for the eschatological promises of vision to be fulfilled. Yet, the spiritual strand also affirms the transformative nature of theophanies, both for their original recipients and for the readers and hearers of the sacred narratives. By providing a glimpse of a more immediate encounter with God, the theophanies vivify (Irenaeus) and elevate human beings (Tertullian), showing the potential for human transformation and fullness of life. They provide a metaphorical framework for understanding spiritual vision that proceeds from divine illumination and purifying grace (Origen), following ancient theories of vision. They indicate that even the highest spiritual experiences do not grasp the mystery of God, and therefore such experiences deepen one’s desire to know God more profoundly (Gregory of Nyssa). In this strand, the theophanies teach that spiritual growth is eternal and unbounded, directed toward the Infinite. Finally, the spiritual strand also connects the theophanies with Christ, usually by comparing the purpose of Christ’s incarnation with the pre-incarnation visible manifestations of God. If Christ’s purpose is to unite human beings with God by sharing their flesh and dwelling among them (Irenaeus) and to “pave the way of faith” in a God who redeems by entering into the world (Tertullian), then the theo-

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phanies teach the appropriateness of such interaction. If Christ reveals his divinity by means of human frailty, so divine presence is manifested through a fire that does not consume or overpower a thorny bush (Gregory of Nyssa). And if Christ calls human beings to a life of discipleship, so too one will look for God not in a glorious “face to face” vision, but by focusing on virtue and following in the way of Christ, glimpsing his “back” (Gregory of Nyssa). In all of these ways, the theophanies find their meaning and purpose by pointing toward the incarnation to see God in the life of faith.

CHAPTER THREE

THEOPHANY INTERPRETATION AND PRO-NICENE THEOLOGY Among early Christian exegesis of the theophany narratives prior to the year 400, the literal christological reading consistently appeared as the key to understanding the Son’s relation to the Father and his works in creation. While the polemical-doctrinal strand and the spiritual strand focused on different questions, they were rooted in shared theological assumptions: the Son descends into the world, while the Father is not located in any particular place; the Son is capable of becoming visible and interacting with human beings, while the Father is impassible; the Son shares in the Father’s divinity but is subordinate to him, acting as a mediator and obeying the Father’s will. Within the framework of these shared assumptions, the two exegetical strands developed very different applications, one defining orthodoxy via definitions of Christ’s identity and the other teaching of the need for spiritual growth and transformation. These two strands further developed in the fourth-century christological and trinitarian controversies, even as the theological assumptions involved in theophany interpretation began to shift. In the decades after the 325 Council of Nicea, both defenders and opponents of the term homoousios (“same substance,” used in the Nicene Creed) turned to the theophanies to understand the Son’s identity and relation to the Father. The literal christological interpretation of the theophanies provided a strong argument against modalism, showing the Son’s distinct identity and activity in the world, thereby safeguarding the Father’s impassibility. However, as different christologies developed in the mid- to late fourth-century, the subordination of the Son to the Father became a flashpoint, and theologians defending the 325 Council of Nicea began to challenge subordinationist theology, long part of early Christian theophany interpretation.1

1 Michel René Barnes, “The Visible Christ and the Invisible Trinity: Mt. 5:8 in Augustine’s Trinitarian Theology of 400,” Modern Theology 19:3 (2003): 341.

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In particular, in the 360s to 380s pro-Nicene authors Hilary and Ambrose maintained the traditional christological interpretation of the theophanies, even as they articulated beliefs about the equality and inseparability of the Trinity, ideas that were critical to Augustine’s own trinitarian theology. Thus in the mid-to-late fourth century we glimpse a critical moment in which all major parties embraced the literal christological reading, even as pro-Nicene authors developed their trinitarian theology against the suborinationism inherent in traditional theophany exegesis. As a result, the developing pro-Nicene theology of Hilary and Ambrose provided the underpinnings for Augustine’s exegetical shift away from reading the theophanies christologically, even as they maintained the christological reading in their own doctrinal and exegetical writings. Hilary and Ambrose both influenced Augustine’s theology and theophany interpretation, but in different ways. Hilary developed the polemical-doctrinal strand of interpretation, at points echoing the interpretations of Justin and Novatian, but with a more precise theology of how the Trinity, especially the Father and the Son, act together in the world. Ambrose developed the spiritual strand of theophany interpretation, taking up more precisely the question of what the eyes actually see and how the invisible God can be mediated visibly in the world. He provided Augustine with a more refined theory of visible encounter with the divine (“seeing God”) connected to grace, free will, and spiritual growth. Thus Hilary and Ambrose, as the two interpreters in this study who influenced Augustine most directly, bring the two different strands of theophany interpretation to a more nuanced point, even as their trinitarian theologies provide Augustine with a theological framework for breaking from the literal christological reading. Three key sources provide a glimpse of how theophany interpretation developed alongside trinitarian theology in the mid- to late fourth century: The 351 Council of Sirmium, Hilary of Poitier’s De Trinitate (ca. 356–359), and Ambrose of Milan’s writings of the late 370s and 380s. Together, they demonstrate the pervasiveness of the literal christological reading in the fourth century, even as Hilary and Ambrose develop the theological underpinnings for change. Council of Sirmium (351): Theophanies and anti-modalism post-Nicea One of the most notable conciliar uses of theophany interpretation occurred at the Council of Sirmium in 351, which was convened by

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the emperor Constantius when he was residing in Sirmium for the winter. Constantius, facing a civil war in 351, advocated a unified religious policy that would help to unite the empire.2 In keeping with theological resistance to the term homoousios since the 325 Council of Nicea,3 the 351 Council of Sirmium condemned christological teachings that were Sabellian or Photinian in nature.4 The emperor called for the synod in response to controversy over the local bishop Photinus, who was charged with teaching that Jesus Christ was merely a human being whose existence began from Mary, not the Son begotten from the Father before the ages.5 Following a debate between Photinus and Basil of Ancyra, the council condemned and exiled Photinus for holding the heresies of Sabellius and Paul of Samosata.6 In framing the condemnation of Photinus as a rejection of the older heresy of Sabellius, the council also affirmed the Son’s distinct, divine existence before the creation of the world.7 The conciliar creed, based on the Fourth Creed

2 Lewis Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 133ff; R. P. C. Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988), 324. 3 See Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy, chapters 4 and 5, and Michel René Barnes, “The Fourth Century as Trinitarian Canon,” in Christian Origins: Theology, Rhetoric, and Community, ed. Lewis Ayres and Gareth Jones (London: Routledge, 1998), 47–67. Barnes argues that the debates between 325 and 381 concerned whether homoousios could be interpreted in an anti-modalist way. 4 On the difficulty of identifying the doctrine of Photinus, see Charles Hefele, A History of the Councils of the Church from the Original Documents, vol. 2 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1876), 186–193. Due to the lack of extant writings by Photinus and to inaccurate characterizations of him, it is difficult to know his authentic teachings. A disciple of Marcellus of Ancyra, himself a strong opponent of Arius who was thought to have Sabellian leanings and to distinguish insufficiently the pre-existence of the Son, Photinus is credited with regarding Christ as a mere human being. 5 Socrates, Historia ecclesiastica 2.18; Sozomen, Historia ecclesiastica 4.6. For more background on the council, particularly on Photinus and the characterization of him as an Adoptionist, see Manlio Simonetti, La Crisi Ariana nel IV Secolo, Studia Ephemeridis “Augustinianum” (Rome: Institutum Patristicum Augustinianum, 1975), 202–206. Simonetti’s analysis underscores the anti-Sabellian nature of the council, particularly in the anathemas. 6 Socrates, hist. ecc. 2.18, 30; Sozomen, hist. ecc. 4.6. In Athanasius and Constantius: Theology and Politics in the Constantinian Empire (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard, 1993), 109–115, Timothy Barnes argues that Athanasius was condemned and deposed by this council, which is not recorded in the conciliar histories. 7 In The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God, R. P. C. Hanson notes that while a few of the anathemas were directed against extreme Arianism, most were anti-Sabellian and anti-Marcellan in nature (Search for the Christian Doctrine of God, 325–329). Further, the council uses the fourth creed of Antioch (341), which Hanson calls “a reconciling formula obnoxious to nobody and capable of being accepted by all,” avoiding the Nicene term homoousios (Search for the Christian Doctrine of God, 291–92).

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of Antioch of 341, showed their united opposition to the modalism attributed to Photinus, Marcellus of Ancyra, and more generally to Sabellius.8 To the creed the council attached twenty-seven anathemas, including five on the interpretation of the biblical theophanies. Thus, once again the theophanies became a resource in doctrinal polemics, interpreted as evidence of the Son’s distinct pre-incarnate existence and activity. The anathemas employ the christological interpretation of the theophanies that is characteristic of earlier authors, especially those involved in doctrinal polemics. These anathemas pronounce condemnation on anyone who claims that: when God said “Let us make man” (Gen. 1:26), God was talking to himself and not the Father to the Son (anathema 14); Abraham saw the unbegotten (ἀγέννητον) God or a part of him, not the Son (a. 15): Jacob wrestled with the unbegotten God or a part of him, not the Son (a. 16); Genesis 19:24 “the Lord rained fire and sulfur from the Lord” refers to God raining fire and sulfur from himself, and not to the Son raining from the Father (a. 17). Anathema 18 also makes the claim that the Son did not descend to Sodom without the will of the Father, that is, that the Son descended to Sodom in obedience to the will of the Father.9 Anathemas 14 and 17 assert that dialogue between the Father and the Son is reflected in the language of Genesis, condemning those who would hold that such statements are not made between divine persons but only by God to God’s own self. Thus the council sees the pre-existence of the Son explicitly demonstrated in these Genesis passages, much as Justin and Novatian did. Furthermore, the council denies that Abraham and Jacob encountered the unbegotten God, suggesting that it is the Son’s role to interact with human beings in the Genesis narratives. Finally, the council teaches that the Son obeys the Father in various ways, including his descent to Sodom. Thus these anathemas cover much the same ground as Justin, Novatian, and (as will be seen) Hilary: that the proper interpretation of Genesis teaches the distinct identity and activity of the Son in the world before his incarnation. These anathemas show widespread acceptance in the mid-fourth century of the Son’s role in the Old Testament theophanies, including 8

See Hanson, Search for the Christian Doctrine of God, 328. Socrates, hist. ecc. 2.30; Sozomen, hist. ecc. 4.6; Athanasius, De synodis 27; Hilary, De synodis 38ff. Note that Hilary’s numbering differs slightly from that of the others. The anathemas cited are nos. 13–17 in Hilary. 9

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those critical of Nicea and of Athanasius.10 Further, this interpretation of the theophanies was important for varying doctrinal assertions of the Son’s existence and activity prior to his incarnation.11 At this point, various theological movements, including Homoiousians like Basil of Ancyra and others opposed to ousia language, could support a christological reading of the theophany narratives in which the Son is manifested in the Old Testament. Likewise, later pro-Nicene authors like Hilary and Ambrose keep a christological reading of the theophanies. What is shared by these differing groups is a common anti-modalism and a need to articulate the Son’s distinctive identity as mediator for the Father, active in the world and capable of change, as demonstrated in a christological reading of the theophanies. Interestingly, Hilary himself summarizes and cites the teachings of the 351 Council of Sirmium in his De synodis. Written ca. 359 during his exile, Hilary was increasingly involved in anti-Homoian debates.12 Yet, his description of the 351 council does not indicate any rejection of its teachings by him. Indeed, two factors would indicate his acceptance of the council: first, he regarded the creed used as the basis of the declaration by 351 Sirmium—the fourth creed of the Council of Antioch (341)—as orthodox (De synodis 36–37). Second, and more significantly, his commentary on the anathemas indicates his acceptance of them. He writes of the five anathemas (14–18) on the theophanies, They were inserted lest any one should dare to assert that the Son of God did not exist before the Son of the Virgin (Photinus), and should attach to the Unborn God with the foolish perversity of an insane heresy all the above passages which are proper to the Son of God, and while applying them to the Father, deny the substance of the Son.13 10 Hanson notes that several anathemas (3, 6, 7, 25, 26) appear critical of the term ousia or of Nicene doctrine, and that the creed “marks a definite shift towards a more sharply anti-Nicene doctrine, though it cannot quite yet be said to be explicitly proArian.” See Search for the Christian Doctrine of God, 328–29. 11 Hanson argues that while a few of the anathemas could be regarded as opposed to extreme forms of Arianism, none oppose the ideas espoused by Aetius or Eunomius. See Search for the Christian Doctrine of God, 328. 12 Mark Weedman, “Hilary and the Homoiousians: Using New Categories to Map the Trinitarian Controversy,” Church History 76:3 (2007): 491–510. 13 De synodis 50, emphasis added and translation slightly modified. Latin text is from: Sancti Hilarii Opera: De Synodis, ed. J.-P. Migne, PL 10 (Paris, 1845). English translation is from St. Hilary of Poitiers: Select Works, trans. E. W. Watson and L. Pullan, NPNF 2.9 (Scribners, 1899; reprint, Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson, 1994). The Latin text, from PL 10, reads: Ne quis auderet non ante Dei filium quam virginis

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Here Hilary regards as “insane heresy” any attribution of the Genesis texts in question to God the Father, thereby affirming that the Son is the proper subject of the theophanies cited. For Hilary, as for the council, this is a matter of distinguishing the Son from the Father, and thus refuting Photinus specifically and modalism more generally. He then adds, “The clearness of these statements absolves us from the necessity of interpreting them.” In other words, Hilary accepts these anathemas as proper christological interpretations of the Genesis texts. Thus he is well aware of this tradition of theophany interpretation in doctrinal polemics, in this case, in the condemnation of Photinus. To this tradition he will add much more explicit pro-Nicene reflections on the likeness and equality of the Father and the Son, yet without ever rejecting the christological interpretation of the theophanies. Hilary of Poitiers Hilary, bishop of Poitiers in Gaul, develops the polemical-doctrinal strand of theophany interpretation, even as his pro-Nicene writings develop his trinitarian theology in ways that implicitly challenge some of the theological assumptions of christological theophany exegesis. He became bishop in 353, but he likely did not become well-versed in the theological controversy over Nicea and the term homoousios until his exile between 356 and 360. During his exile, Hilary traveled east, studied Greek, and composed a work, De synodis, to inform a Western audience of the councils and creeds composed since the 325 Council of Nicea. In this period Hilary critiques Homoian theology, which rejected using the term ousia (substance or being) to define the Son’s relation to the Father. Homoians preferred to assert that the Son is like (homoi) the Father, without using the non-scriptural term ousia associated with earlier Sabellian theology. In addition, Homoian theology was subordinationist, interpreting likeness as inferiority to the Father. Homoians triumphed in a series of councils held between 357 and 360, spurring the development of pro-Nicene opposition. In this polemical context Hilary’s theology is marked by his concern for the filium praedicare, et superiora omnia, quae propria Dei filio sunt, stultissima haereticae insaniae perversitate Deo innascibili coaptaret; et dum haec ad Patrem referret, Filio substantiam denegaret. Quae quia absoluta sunt, necessitatem nobis interpretandi non reliquerunt.

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unity of the Son and the Father, eschewing any suggestion of the Son’s subordination. When Hilary interprets the theophanies, he follows the tradition of Justin and Novatian, identifying the theophanies with the manifestation of the Son’s pre-existence. Yet, he strips his interpretation of any hint of subordination between the Son and the Father, focusing instead on how the Father and Son act together in their distinct offices. With these contributions, Hilary brings the polemical-doctrinal strand to a more nuanced interpretation of the Father and Son’s unity and diversity, even as his trinitarian theology introduces ideas that could potentially critique or undermine the traditional christological theophany interpretation of Justin or Novatian. As such, Hilary’s influential Latin work immediately prior to Augustine suggests both the development of the polemical-doctrinal strand and its potential undoing. Hilary’s argument in De Trinitate focuses on the unfolding revelation of God in the scriptures, particularly the developing revelation of the Son as both one with the Father and distinct from him. For Hilary, human beings come to know God’s identity not through reason or experience, but through reading the scriptures and learning of God’s activity in history.14 His exegetical method focuses on divine speech and narratives of visible self-manifestation as the key to discerning the broader meaning of scripture, as when Hilary claims that “God himself is the witness of his word” (Deus ipse sermonis sui testis est; Trin. 4.36). Thus the stories of God’s self-manifestation, and especially

14 Trin. 4:14: Nemini autem dubium esse oportet, ad divinarum rerum cognitionem divinis utendum esse doctrinis. Neque enim scientiam caelestium per semet humana inbecillitas consequetur, neque invisibilium intellegentiam ipse sibi corporalium sensus adsumet. Non enim vel id quod creatum in nobis adque carnale est vel id quod in usum vitae nostrae ex Deo datum est suomet iudicio naturam creatoris sui opusque discernet. Non subeunt ingenia nostra in caelestem scientiam, neque inconpraehensibilem virtutem sensu aliquo infirmitas nostra concipiet. Ipsi de se Deo credendum est, et his quae cognitioni nostrae de se tribuit obsequendum. Aut enim more gentilium denegandus est, si testimonia eius inprobantur, aut si ut est Deus creditur, non potest aliter de eo quam ut ipse est de se testatus intellegi. English translations, unless otherwise noted, are from St. Hilary of Poitiers: Select Works, NPNF 2.9. The Latin text is from La Trinité, ed. P. Smulders, SC 443, 448 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1999, 2000). See also Trin. 5:21: Non est de Deo humanis iudiciis sentiendum. Neque enim nobis ea natura est, ut se in caelestem cognitionem suis viribus ecferat. A Deo discendum est, quid de Deo intellegendum sit, quia nonnisi se auctore cognoscitur. Adsit licet saecularis doctrinae elaborata institutio, adsit vitae innocentia, haec quidem proficient ad conscientiae gratulationem, non tamen cognitionem Dei consequentur.

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God’s very words in these narratives, are key to understanding God’s identity. Additionally, a literal christological reading of the theophanies of Genesis supports Hilary’s christology by demonstrating that the Son was active in the world prior to his incarnation, manifesting his divinity and unity with the Father through performing divine acts. Hilary thus critiques “heretical” or Homoian theology via biblical interpretation, rhetorically framing his own exegesis as a middle course between the extremes of “the heretics” who deny the unity of God and Sabellianism that denies the diversity of God (Trin. 5.1–2).15 By presenting his theology as a via media, Hilary addresses the pervasive critique of homoousios as a modalist term.16 In Books Four and Five of the De Trinitate, Hilary privileges the testimony of Moses, whom he regards as the author of the Pentateuch, as the first person through whom God was “manifested” to the world.17 He also argues that the writings of Moses witness to the divinity and distinct identity of the Son, a point already widely affirmed by the diverse signers of the 351 Creed of Sirmium. Arguing that the nature and identity of Christ unfolds in the narratives of God’s self-revelation to Moses, Hilary claims that Moses consistently proclaims “God and God,” i.e., that both the Father and the Son are God.18 Moreover, Hilary cites Jesus’ claim that Moses spoke of him (John 5:46) as proof that Moses’ writings reveal the Son’s identity (Trin. 5.23). Therefore, in Hilary’s interpretation the Pentateuch teaches the divinity of the Son while proclaiming the unity of God, as in Deuteronomy 6:4: “The Lord is our God, the Lord alone.” For Hilary, the theophanies constitute a major part of this teaching.

15 For example, one of Hilary’s prime concerns is to counter his Homoian opponents’ exegesis of Prov. 8:22, “The Lord created me at the beginning of his works,” as support for viewing Christ as a creature. Hilary devotes Book Twelve of De Trinitate to this argument. 16 Mark Weedman argues that Hilary learned from Basil of Ancyra, a Homoiousian, to address this suspicion of modalism while refuting the Homoians, in “Hilary and the Homoiousians,” 510. 17 Trin. 5.36: Veritatis ratio postulat ab eo initium intellegentiae istius sumi, per quem manifestari saeculo Deus coeptus est, Moyse namque. 18 Trin. 4.22: Nunc enim tantum ad id respondetur, quod in expositione fidei suae vel potius perfidiae ab inpiis dictum est, unum tantum Deum a Moyse praedicatum. Et vere ita praedicatum meminimus, quia unus Deus est ex quo omnia, sed non propterea ignorandum esse quia Filius Deus est: cum idem Moyses Deum et Deum toto operis sui corpore sit professus.

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In Hilary’s interpretation, the book of Genesis consistently reveals the unity of the Father and the Son in their distinct actions. He argues that the Father and the Son work together in creation as equals but in different capacities, where God the Father commands and God the Son executes (Trin. 4.16). Therefore the Father and the Son are to be distinguished not by their nature, but by their works.19 Like many early Christian authors, Hilary interprets Genesis 1:26 christologically, saying that the plural “Let us make man in our image” indicates both the Son’s joint creative activity with the Father as well as his full divinity, sharing in the divine image (Trin. 4.16–21; 5.7–10). Yet it is the bodily appearances of God in Genesis and Exodus that show the Son’s divinity most prominently. These visions of God in human form foreshadow the mystery of the incarnation (Trin. 5.17–20),20 teaching both that the Son is the mediator between God and humanity (Trin. 4.42) and that God does not suffer diminishment by assuming weakness (Trin. 5.18).21 Here Hilary repeats a theme also found in Novatian and Irenaeus: a literal christological reading, namely, one that claims the Son was manifested in a theophany, is also a figure or sign of the incarnation. Literal and figurative readings, while distinct, often work together in forming the broad meaning of these passages. Hilary’s argument that the Old Testament reveals the Son’s identity centers on his belief that the scriptures present an unfolding or progressive revelation of God, in which each narrative of God’s self-revelation adds another important element to the overall scriptural portrait of God. Individual narratives of revelation to any biblical figure might be incomplete, but together they provide the reader with a view not only of God’s identity, but also of how this identity is revealed over time. The key to putting the narratives together into a comprehensive whole is to look for how words and phrases are repeated and defined more precisely in subsequent narratives or texts, as well as how the same subject is described in greater specificity over the series of narratives. In this way, Hilary’s interpretation of God’s visible manifestation in the Old Testament (in De Trinitate 4) is grounded in what he sees as 19 Trin. 4.21: Pater enim in eo quod loquitur efficit, Filius in eo quod operatur quae fieri sunt dicta conponit. Personarum autem ita facta distinctio est, ut opus referatur ad utrumque. 20 See, for example, Trin. 5.17: Et Deus in homine et videtur et creditur et adoratur, qui secundum plenitudinem temporis esset in homine gignendus. Namque ad visum species praefiguratae veritatis adsimitur. 21 Trin. 5.18: Per adsumptam infirmitatem non amittat Deus esse qui Deus est.

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a narrative cycle of theophanies in Genesis 16–21, chapters that were also Justin and Novatian’s major focus. For Hilary, it is only in reading the larger context of a scriptural account and connecting the various events that one comes to a proper interpretation (Trin. 4.14, 4.21). This, he argues, distinguishes his own exegesis from what he perceives as prooftexting by his Homoian opponents (Trin. 4.14).22 As with Justin and Novatian, Hilary focuses on the Genesis narratives’ use of several words—angel, lord, God—to identify the subject of the theophanies, connecting “angel” with Christ’s office or role of announcing the Father. In the story of Hagar’s encounter with God in the desert after her flight from Sarah and Abraham (Genesis 16), Hilary notes that scripture describes an angel who appears and speaks to Hagar (Gen. 16:7–12), but later Hagar calls the angel “Lord” and says that she has seen God (Gen. 16:13). According to Hilary, this is the first, but by no means only, indication that the God who appears in Genesis 16–21 is both angel and divine. Hilary reconciles the two by arguing that “angel” should be understood as an office, not a nature (Trin. 5.11), undercutting any association of angel with inferiority.23 Thus the agent in Genesis 16 is distinguished as an angel by his work and not his nature, just as the Son is distinguished from the Father in creation by office and not by his divine nature. If “angel” in this narrative is a term of office, not nature, then for Hilary the subject’s divinity must be revealed in some other way. Hilary looks to the angel’s actions, noting that angel promises Hagar something that only God could do, namely, to increase her descendants into an innumerable multitude (Gen. 16:10). Because the angel promises this personally (“I will multiply your offspring . . .”), Hagar recognizes that it is God who has spoken with her (Trin. 4.23). Hagar’s confession is the first explicit sign that the one who spoke with her is both angel

22

Trin. 4.14: Cessent itaque propriae hominum opiniones, neque se ultra divinam constitutionem humana iudicia extendant. Sequemur ergo adversus inreligiosas et inpias de Deo institutiones ipsas illas divinorum dictorum auctoritates, et unumquodque eo ipso, de quo quaeritur, auctore tractabimus, non ad fallendam et male inbuendam audientium inperitiam quasdam verborum enuntiationes subtractis eorum causis coaptantes. Intellegentia enim dictorum ex causis est adsumenda dicendi, quia non sermoni res sed rei est sermo subiectus. Verum omnia editis simul et dicendi causis et dictorum virtutibus prosequemur. 23 Trin. 5.11: Sed forte idcirco non Deus verus est, quia angelus Dei est? Inferioris enim naturae videtur hoc nomen, et ubi nuncupatio est generis alieni, ibi existimatur veritas eiusdem generis non inesse. Et quidem iam superior liber inanitatem huius quaestionis ostendit. In angelo enim officii potius quam naturae intellegentia est.

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and God, underscoring Hilary’s claim that the biblical figures themselves recognize to some extent this unfolding revelation of God. The related events that follow in Genesis 17–21, including the fulfillment of God’s promise to give Hagar many descendants (Gen. 16:10), confirm Hagar’s confession and develop it in greater detail. Hilary connects this narrative to the unambiguous manifestation of God in the covenant with Abraham (Genesis 17), in which God speaks to Abraham directly, promising to make his descendants numerous and establishing the covenant with the sign of circumcision (Gen. 17:1–14). The narrative tells that the Lord appears to Abraham and says, “I am God Almighty . . . I will make my covenant between me and you, and will make you exceedingly numerous.” Here Hilary sees a progression in revelation to increased clarity: from the appearance of the angel in Genesis 16, to Hagar’s recognition of the angel as Lord and God, to an unqualified depiction of God speaking to Abraham in Genesis 17. For Hilary, it is not the mere juxtaposition of the two narratives that unites them, but the fact that both contain a promise by God to multiply the descendants of Abraham’s sons (Trin. 4.24; cf. Gen. 16:10; 17:20). Since both speakers promise a divine work, both are to be identified as God. Further, because it is the same promise in the two events, it is the same speaker, who is both a messenger or angel and true God. The progression of revelation continues in a more complicated fashion in Genesis 18, the theophany at Mamre, in which three visitors speak and eat with Abraham. Like Justin and Novatian, Hilary interprets the shifting descriptions of the visitor/s (one lord, three angels) as a manifestation of the Son accompanied by two angels. This, in turn, allows Hilary to distinguish how the Son is “angel” by office, distinct from angelic creatures. The narrative opens with a claim that the Lord appears to Abraham (Gen. 18:1), and yet the narrative also describes three men visiting Abraham (Gen. 18:2). Abraham addresses the three in the singular “my lord” (Gen. 18:3). In Hilary’s interpretation, Abraham sees three but worships one (Trin. 4.25). While Hilary stresses how Abraham acknowledges God as one Lord, he does not interpret Mamre as either a sign or manifestation of the Trinity.24 24

It would seem that trinitarian interpretation of Mamre would require a different understanding of theophanies, namely, that all three persons are manifested in theophanies. Since Hilary understands the Son’s office as mediator to be central in any visible manifestation of God, and therefore it is the Son who is manifested in the

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Rather, he connects the Mamre narrative with the following story in Genesis 19, in which two of the visitors are identified as angels who visit Lot ahead of the third visitor (Trin. 4.28; Gen. 19:1). These two Hilary calls “only angels” (tantum angelos, Trin. 4.28), that is, angels by nature rather than by office. The third visitor he regards as Lord and God, since he is called Lord in Genesis 18 after the other two visitors leave for Sodom (Gen. 18:17, 20, 22, 33), and since he acts as Lord and Judge over Sodom (Gen. 18:17–33). Further, he promises that Sarah will bear a child (Gen. 18:9–15), and later when Sarah bears Isaac the narrative confirms that the Lord made this promise (Gen. 21:1). Hilary notes that at Mamre only one is called Lord, and therefore only one of the three visitors is Lord and God. Thus he interprets the subject of the Mamre theophany as God, accompanied by two angels (Trin. 4.28). In addition, Hilary interprets the Son’s appearance to Abraham as a sign foreshadowing his incarnation, underscoring that the patristic belief in Christ’s manifestation before his incarnation is rooted in a broader salvific claim of how and why God appears in the world at all. Thus Hilary understands that the Mamre narrative develops the Genesis theophany cycle by progressing from the revelation of the Son’s divinity to signifying that the Word will become flesh. While Genesis 16 and 17 establish who appears visibly, Genesis 18 establishes why, claiming this God can take on human form without altering the divine nature. Therefore, Hilary sees Mamre as a sign or “sacrament” of the incarnation,25 by which one may recognize the Son’s role as mediator in salvation (Trin. 4.42; 5.18). Hilary’s exegetical emphasis is that it was a human being who spoke to Abraham at Mamre (Trin. 4.24), showing that he could be human and yet be worshipped as Lord and promise to do divine works. Thus, for Hilary the whole narrative sequence develops the revelation of the Son in Genesis 16, to the Son as true God in Genesis 17, to the Son incarnate at Mamre. The story of Sodom (Gen. 19) further confirms the revelation of the Son in the theophany cycle by clarifying the identity of the other two visitors as angels, as in Justin’s exegesis. Hilary also sees the Lord’s destruction at Sodom as proof of “God and God,” since Genesis 19:24 describes the Lord raining down fire from the Lord. In this respect theophanies, it is not surprising that he sees Mamre as a christological, rather than a trinitarian, revelation. 25 Trin. 4.27: Virum enim licet conspectum, Abraham tamen Dominum adoravit, sacramentum scilicet futurae corporationis agnoscens.

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Hilary is much like Justin and Novatian, using the duplicate wording (Lord and Lord) in several biblical verses as significant distinctions about God’s identity. Like the other authors, Hilary sees no textual detail as too small or insignificant, particularly when it concerns a description of God. Like Justin, he sees the theophany cycle concluding with the birth of Isaac in Genesis 21, emphasizing that Isaac’s birth (Gen. 21:2) and God’s repeated promise to make Ishmael into a great nation (Gen. 21:13, 18) fulfill the promises of God made to Hagar, Abraham, and Sarah earlier in the narrative cycle (Trin. 4.25). Thus, the main contours of Hilary’s theophany narrative interpretation emerge in the Genesis cycle, establishing a progression in the revelation of the Son as one with the Father in divinity but having a distinct office and activity in creation, which culminates in the incarnation. Hilary turns briefly to two other theophany narratives to confirm his interpretation. Like the Mamre narrative, Hilary reads the story of Jacob wrestling with the angel (Gen. 32) as a “sacrament” (Trin. 4.31), grouping the story with the Mamre theophany as instances of God’s appearance in human form. Hilary also finds similarities to the Genesis cycle in the burning bush theophany (Exod. 3), as the latter narrative also claims that an angel appears (Exod. 3:2) and that the Lord speaks to Moses (Exod. 3:4). Hilary takes the angel and the Lord to be the same, once again interpreting “angel” functionally rather than essentially (Trin. 4.32; 5.22). He compares this narrative to the story of the angel appearing to Hagar in Genesis 16, saying that in both cases one who is angel and Lord and God appears.26 For Hilary this is a revelation of both the Son’s role in salvation (as “angel”) and of the Son’s nature as true God, “I am that I am” (Trin. 5.22). Thus the burning bush narrative, as with the theophany to Jacob, underscores what was learned previously from the Genesis 16–21 theophanies: in all these events the Son is manifested to reveal both his work as savior and mediator, as well as his nature as true God. Because Hilary’s purpose in De Trinitate is to demonstrate Christ’s unity with the Father as well as his proper distinctiveness, Hilary’s

26 Trin. 4.32: Qui apparuit in rubo de rubo loquitur, et visionis locus unus et vocis est, neque alius quam qui est visus auditur. Qui angelus Dei est cum videtur, idem rursum cum auditur est Dominus; ipse vero Dominus qui auditur Deus deinde Abrahae et Isac et Iacob esse cognoscitur. Cum angelus Dei dicitur, non proprius sibi ac solitarius esse monstratur: est enim Dei angelus, cum Dominus et Deus nuncupatur, in honore naturae suae et nomine praedicatur.

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exegesis of the theophany narratives focuses on the identity of the subject more than the spiritual implications of such visible encounters with God. Therefore, Hilary tends to assert who the angel or God or Lord “is,” rather than use more precise verbs like “appear,” “manifest,” “demonstrate,” or “signify” to describe God’s actions. Clearly Hilary thinks that the subject of all of the theophanies “is” the Son, but it is difficult to say precisely what he means. Hilary seems to accept that the theophanies involve appearances of visible beings, sometimes in human form, which Hagar, Abraham, and others can “recognize” as God. He does not, however, speculate at length on whether God the Son was signified or “seen” somehow in these narratives. Rather, his exegetical concern is to show the identity and distinctive works of the Son, for which the verb “is” suffices, however ambiguously. Overall, Hilary brings the polemical-doctrinal strand of theophany narrative interpretation to a high point of development in the West prior to Augustine. Many of the emphases of Justin’s and Novatian’s exegesis are present in Hilary’s: focusing on distinctions of identity, reading intertextually, relying on the series of Genesis theophanies to Abraham and others, using certain “God and God” or “Lord and Lord” texts to interpret the Genesis narratives, interpreting Christ as an angel in his actions, seeing the narratives as manifestations of the Son as well as signs of his incarnation, and using the literal christological reading as evidence for Christ’s divine pre-existence against various theological opponents. While it would be easy to read Hilary as simply repeating the earlier interpreters, the context in which Hilary interprets the theophanies shows the potential for future change to this line of exegesis. If in 351 those present at Sirmium agreed against Marcellus of Ancyra and Photinus that Christ appeared in the Old Testament theophanies, and if these appearances prove Christ’s distinction from the Father, then Hilary, writing in 359, uses the theophanies to support his christology even as his opponents, the Homoians, stress the Son’s subordination to the Father. In other words, Hilary and his polemical opponents alike can turn to the traditional christological reading of the theophanies, with the possibility that a Homoian subordinationist reading might actually align better with the earlier exegetes’ claims of the Son’s proper visibility, passibility, and mediation.27

27 Michel Barnes, examining Augustine’s opposition to Homoian theology around the year 400, argues that the Homoian interpretation of the theophanies, emphasizing the Son’s visibility and appearances, aligns with traditional Latin and Greek theology. He par-

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One way to see the potential for change in Hilary’s exegesis is to notice what he does not claim. Unlike Justin and Novatian, Hilary does not frame his theophany exegesis with claims about the Father’s inability to descend from the heavens, to appear visibly, or to be located in space. In contrast, Justin wrote, “no one with even the slightest intelligence would dare to assert that the Creator and Father of all things left His super-celestial realms to make Himself visible in a little spot on earth.”28 Novatian likewise stated that the Father is above all things, found everywhere, not circumscribed by a body (Trin. 1–5), and therefore is not “enclosed by space and contained within the limits of some abode” (loco cluditur et intra sedis alicuius angustias continetur; Trin. 12.7). By framing the theophanies with the claim that the Father could not appear visibly on earth, Justin and Novatian based their interpretation on the Son’s difference from the Father. In contrast, Hilary avoids any claim distinguishing the Father and the Son’s qualities, instead emphasizing difference in activity or office: the Father commands and the Son executes in the world. Yet these different actions are inherently connected for Hilary, so that the Father and Son are inseparably united in all of their actions in the world. Thus Hilary develops the polemical-doctrinal strand, emphasizing the Son’s unity with the Father, true God from true God. He more precisely interprets the “angel” of the theophany narratives as a reference to office, asserting that the term does not imply subordination based on difference. In so doing, he exposes the vulnerability of this exegetical tradition: if the theophanies are manifestations of the Son, then they clearly show his difference from the Father, but they do not as clearly show his unity with the Father and their exact likeness. In the West after 360, the persistence of Homoian theology, overtly subordinating the Son to the Father, will make the polemical-doctrinal tradition increasingly problematic for pro-Nicene authors. However, Hilary also adds to patristic theophany interpretation an important concept: progressive development of doctrine within

ticularly identifies this tradition with Novatian and Origen, arguing that Novatian is a source of tension in Hilary’s and Augustine’s theology: “This, I think, is why fourth and fifth centuries [sic] Latin Trinitarian theologies found the theophanies such a difficulty for Nicene orthodoxy: not simply because there were spokesmen articulating a problematic, subordinationist doctrine of the theophanies, but because such subordinationist interpretations of the theophanies were traditional.” See “The Visible Christ and the Invisible Trinity,” 341. 28 Dial. 60.2: οὐ τὸν ποιητὴν τῶν ὃλων καὶ πατέρα, καταλιπόντα τὰ ὑπὲρ οὐρανὸν ἅπαντα, ἐν ὀλίγῳ γῆς μορίῳ πεφάνθαι πᾶς ὁστισοῦν κἂν μικρὸν νοῦν.

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scriptural narratives. He raises the idea, which will become important for Augustine, that individual biblical figures in the narratives need not fully understand Christ’s manifestation for the reader to understand the continuity of God’s revelation in these stories. In other words, Christ does not need to be explicitly described in each narrative; the more important revelation is the collective pattern of God’s visible manifestation to patriarchs and matriarchs, culminating in God the Son’s visible manifestation as the Word made flesh. Thus, if Hilary helped lay the theological foundation for Augustine’s break from a christological exegesis of the theophany narratives that subordinated the Son to the Father, he also helped lay the foundation for Augustine’s more subtle reconfiguration of theophany narrative exegesis in which Christ is present not as the visible member of the Trinity, but as united with the Father and the Holy Spirit in all of their works in creation. Ambrose of Milan Just as Hilary develops the polemical-doctrinal strand of theophany interpretation alongside his pro-Nicene trinitarian theology, so too Ambrose of Milan develops the spiritual strand of interpretation, building on the ideas of Origen to refine the categories of vision, grace, and spiritual transformation that were also fundamental to Irenaeus and Tertullian (see above, chapter two). Origen, the third-century biblical scholar and theologian from Alexandria, provided Ambrose with both spiritual interpretation of the Bible and philosophical precision, both of which are evident in his theophany interpretation. Of all the authors prior to Augustine studied here, Ambrose influenced Augustine most directly, providing him with a more precise theology of what the eyes see and the spirit perceives in a scriptural vision of God. Yet, Ambrose, like Hilary, maintains that Christ appeared in the Old Testament theophanies, even as he further develops his trinitarian theology to emphasize the equality and inseparability of Father, Son, and Spirit in their works. In other words, he keeps the traditional christological reading while developing, against Homoian theology, a trinitarian theology that could undermine the attribution of the theophanies to the Son alone. Likewise, his trinitarian theology questions the seeming subordinationism of the traditional interpretation, which emphasized that the Son did things (became visible, appeared in a particular place) that the Father by his very nature did not. In

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this sense, then, Ambrose’s theophany interpretation is a complex case of sophisticated reflection on spiritual vision, traditional exegesis, and theological development. This combination is rich but inherently full of tension. Augustine, as influenced by Ambrose, will take up the tension in Ambrose’s exegesis and thereby reconfigure the traditional christological reading. Ambrose became bishop of Milan in 374, succeeding the Homoian Auxentius. At the time of his succession, Homoian devotion persisted in north Italy even as pro-Nicene opposition galvanized after the 359 Councils of Ariminum and Constantinople.29 While initially Ambrose had only limited familiarity with Homoianism, by 381 he clearly wrote with greater specificity against the critiques of his Homoian opponents in Milan. Thus, Ambrose’s staunch pro-Nicene theology developed amid his increasing ecclesiastical struggles with Homoians early in his episcopacy.30 Ambrose’s interpretation of theophanies emerges in a variety of works, mostly written after De fide. Likely Ambrose wrote Books 1–2 of this treatise in 378 and completed Books 3–5 early in late 380 or early 381, followed soon by De Spiritu Sancto in February or March 381.31 The source that most influenced Augustine’s theology of spiritual vision, Ambrose’s Commentary on the Gospel of Luke,32 is difficult to date precisely, but probably was composed in the 380s. Augustine quotes passages from the commentary extensively in his Epistle 147, De videndo Deo (see below, chapter six). In the Lukan commentary Ambrose’s reflections upon the angel Gabriel’s appearance to Zechariah in the temple (Luke 1:8–21) lead to a broader consideration of how God may be seen and what this might mean about God’s nature as well as those who see God. Commenting on Luke 1, after an extensive discussion of sin and of the holiness of Zechariah and Elizabeth (Exp. Luc. 1.15ff ), Ambrose turns to the appearance of the angel Gabriel at the altar of incense. He compares the sudden appearance of the angel to the appearance of God to Abraham at Mamre (Gen. 18:1), saying that these sudden 29 Daniel H. Williams, Ambrose of Milan and the End of the Nicene-Arian Conflicts (Oxford: Clarendon, 1995), 102. 30 Daniel H. Williams, “Polemics and Politics in Ambrose of Milan’s De Fide,” Journal of Theological Studies 46:2 (1995): 519–531. 31 Ibid. 32 Ambrose, Traité sur l’Évangile de S. Luc, ed. Dom Gabriel Tissot, SC 45 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1956).

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manifestations contrast with the appearance of ordinary visible objects, which are present before being seen and are visible by nature (Exp. Luc. 1.24). This provides occasion for Ambrose to contrast ordinary vision with spiritual vision. Recalling ancient theories of vision (see above, chapter two), ordinary objects are seen either when the rays from the eyes coalesce with light and proceed through the medium of air to touch visible objects (extramission) or when the objects emit images or particles that stream through the air and touch the eyes (intromission). With either theory, what is seen and touched is the external surface of the object. Further, in the extramission theory, espoused by Plato and Origen among others,33 the rays emitted from the eyes have the active power to grasp or comprehend the passive object. For the Platonist Ambrose, this theory would be problematic in the case of a theophany, implying that human powers of vision could grasp God. Thus Ambrose asserts that a theophany is different from ordinary vision in that God must first will to be seen; unlike ordinary objects, God is not simply subject to human powers.34 Here Ambrose uses a distinction between will and nature first made by Origen, who also claimed in his homily on the story of Zechariah in Luke 1 that human powers of sight are not capable of beholding God unless God wills to be seen.35 Ambrose’s key distinction, quoted by Augustine in ep. 147, claims that the vision of God occurs only when God chooses to be manifested in an assumed form.36 Thus theophanies are distinguished from ordinary vision as will is distinguished from nature, so that God’s power stands above the natural phenomena through which God’s presence is mediated. 33 Robert J. Hauck, “ ‘Like a Gleaming Flash’: Matthew 6:22–23, Luke 11:34–36 and the Divine Sense in Origen,” Anglican Theological Review 88:4 (2006): 557–573. 34 Ambrose, exp. Luc. 1.24: Non enim similiter sensibilia videntur et is cuius in voluntate situm est videri et cuius naturae est non videri, voluntatis videri. Nam si non vult, non videtur, si vult, videtur. 35 Origen, Homélies sur S. Luc, ed. Henri Crouzel, François Fournier, and Pierre Périchon, SC 87 (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1998). See 3.1: E contrario ea, quae superna sunt et divina, etiam cum in praesenti fuerint, non videntur, nisi ipsa voluerint; et in voluntate eorum est videri vel non videri. 36 Ambrose, exp. Luc. 1.25: Certe refelli non potest vel patrem vel filium vel certe spiritum sanctum, si tamen est sancti spiritus visio, ea specie videri, quam voluntas elegerit, non natura formaverit. Note that the last half of this quotation is the basis for Basil Studer’s study of Augustine’s theophany exegesis in ep. 147, Zur Theophanie-Exegese Augustins: Untersuchungen zu einem Ambrosius-Zitat in der Schrift De videndo Deo, Ep 147, Studia Anselmiana 59 (Rome: Herder, 1971).

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Ambrose’s use of Origen continues as he considers the relationship between spiritual and physical vision. For Origen, the five physical senses correspond to five spiritual senses that perceive divine truth.37 In the case of vision, Origen applies the extramission theory to the mind, claiming that the mind “sees” by sending forth its proper light, which coalesces with divine light, enabling the mind to perceive or “see” intelligible truths.38 Thus, spiritual vision only occurs as aided by the illumination of divine grace; God is both means and end. In the theophanies, the real vision of God is not seeing a bush or a human figure, but perceiving divine truth and presence with the mind. Ambrose considers biblical cases in which some of the people present during a theophany or vision did not see God. He notes the examples of Stephen’s vision of Jesus at the right hand of God (Acts 7), Isaiah’s vision of the Lord of hosts (Isa. 6), and the apostles’ failure to know Christ (John 14:9). In all these cases, a privileged few were given a vision of God, but the others were not (Exp. Luc. 1.24). Thus the spiritual vision of God is distinct from physical vision of the object or figure mediating God’s presence. Ambrose echoes both Origen and Irenaeus in his insistence on the necessity of grace for seeing God and that only the pure in heart will see God. One may see God by obtaining through grace the means of such vision, but most people do not have this grace, and therefore most do not see God.39 Only to the pure in heart is this vision granted (Matt. 5:8), in this life as well as in the resurrection. For even Jesus Christ is not truly known according to the flesh and as perceived with bodily eyes, but according to the spirit.40 In making this distinction between bodily and spiritual sight, Ambrose stresses the condition of those who do see God. They are purified from sin, assisted by grace, and do not rely on their bodily eyes for true vision (Exp. Luc. 1.27). Further, their vision of God is only partial, even though it is spiritual

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Hauck, “Like a Gleaming Flash,” 557. Hauck, “Like a Gleaming Flash,” 569–70. 39 Ambrose, exp. Luc. 1.26: Tamen, etsi potestas non est videndi, est gratia promerendi, ut videre possimus. Et ideo qui habuit gratiam meruit copiam; nos copiam non meremur, quia deum videndi gratiam non habemus. 40 Ambrose, exp. Luc. 1.27: Nos enim iam secundum carnem non novimus Christum, sed secundum spiritum; spiritus enim ante faciem nostram Christus dominus, qui nos in omnem plenitudinem dei misericordia sua inplere dignetur, ut videri possit a nobis. 38

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and therefore higher than corporeal vision.41 Thus, as he contrasts his views with his opponents,42 Ambrose insists that God cannot be comprehended either by mere human powers or as they are aided by grace.43 God remains beyond human grasp, even if God wills to be seen and known in some form. Ambrose’s trinitarian theology shapes his theophany exegesis in part. He claims that not only Father, but also the Son and the Spirit are invisible by nature and can only be seen by choosing to appear under a visible form as, for example, the Holy Spirit appeared under the form of a dove.44 Here Ambrose demonstrates the likeness of all three divine persons with respect to theophanies: none are predisposed to becoming visible, and all share equally in their proper invisibility. In contrast to earlier exegetes like Justin and Novatian, Ambrose does not simply contrast the Son’s visible appearances with the Father’s invisibility. Instead, he emphasizes the equality of the three persons and how each of the three might “appear.” Further, more than Hilary, Ambrose tends to assert the inseparability of the Trinity in its works, thus making it much more difficult to assert only the Son’s role or office to become visible.45 In this sense Ambrose, even more than Hilary, is moving away from a close, almost exclusive connection of the Son with visible manifestations. Yet, like Hilary, Ambrose still frequently identifies the Son with the Old Testament theophanies. Against those who think the Son took his origin from Mary (Photinus), Ambrose argues that the Son appeared before his incarnation46 and Moses spoke with him and of him (Exod. 15.11; cf. De fide 4.12.161). For, he elsewhere argues, the Son is the

41 Cf. De fide 5.19.236, where Ambrose considers the theophany to Moses in Exodus 33, where he sees the back parts of God. For Ambrose, “back parts” signifies partial comprehension; even the great Moses was prevented from seeing God face to face. Origen makes the same observation in De principiis 2.4.3. 42 In exp. Luc. 1.25 Ambrose only calls them haeretici, but he is explicitly referring to those who think God can be comprehended. 43 exp. Luc. 1.25: Et ideo deum nemo vidit umquam, quia eam quae in deo habitat plenitudinem divinitatis nemo conspexit, nemo mente aut oculis conprehendit. 44 exp. Luc. 1.25: Certe refelli non potest vel patrem vel filium vel certe spiritum sanctum, si tamen est sancti spiritus visio, ea specie videri, quam voluntas elegerit, non natura formaverit, quoniam spiritum quoque visum accepimus in columba. 45 See, for example, De fide 4.4ff and 5.2ff for more on the inseparable works of the Father and the Son. 46 exp. Luc. 1.25: Filium visum esse in veteri testamento, . . . qui antequam nasceretur ex virgine videbatur.

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image of the Father, sharing fully in the divine nature and united with the Father in their works (De fide 5.1–2). The Son as image represents the Father (Hexameron 2.5.19), and although no one has seen the Father, the Son makes the Father known (John 1:18; Exp. Luc. 1.25). This mission to make the Father known, ultimately in the incarnation, shows not the Son’s subordination but his kenosis, “descending” into the world (cf. Gen. 11) in order to enter human hearts (De fide 5.7.98). Thus Ambrose simultaneously asserts the unity of the triune God’s nature and deeds, as well as the distinctiveness of the Son’s mission. While he acts together with the Father in all things, his particular mission to make the Father known leads Ambrose to identify the Son with the Old Testament theophanies. When Ambrose interprets particular theophany narratives, he usually follows this christological view of manifestation. However, unlike the earlier authors included in this study, he sees the Mamre theophany as a type of the Trinity, an interpretation that will appear in Augustine as well. This further indicates a weakening of the literal christological reading of the theophanies, hinting at alternative interpretations. Ambrose does not view Mamre as a vision of the Trinity itself, but in various treatises Ambrose stresses a trinitarian structure to Abraham’s response in the theophany, that he saw three but worshipped one (cf. De Cain et Abel 1.8.30; De excessu fratris 2.96; De spiritu sancto 2.p.4; De fide 1.13.80).47 For Ambrose this is symbolic of the distinction of trinitarian persons and of the unity of the divine nature. Yet he does not entirely abandon a christological interpretation. He elsewhere denies that the Father appeared to Abraham or that Abraham washed the Father’s feet, arguing rather that it was the Son (De fide 2.8.72). In this context Ambrose asserts the Son’s equality and denies that his actions make him inferior to the Father (De fide 2.8.71). Thus Ambrose employs both christological and trinitarian interpretation to teach the unity and equality of persons alongside their distinctive activity. For Ambrose, the Mamre narrative can be read as a type of the Trinity, but he views the actual event as the manifestation of the Son under a created form. Thus Ambrose represents an incipient shift in interpretation of the Mamre theophany, moving 47 In De excessu fratris 2.96 Ambrose thinks that Abraham saw the Trinity in a type, while in De Cain et Abel 1.8.30 he emphasizes Abraham’s response of worshipping the one Lord when he sees the three visitors.

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towards a figurative trinitarian interpretation, but still emphasizing the Son’s central role in the theophany. This christological emphasis is even more evident when Ambrose turns to the burning bush narrative. He claims that the Son, not the Father, speaks to Moses from the fire (De fide 1.13.83; De Isaac vel anima 8.77) and identifies himself as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Exod. 3.6). Thus the Son is the God of the patriarchs and prophets, and he gives the law to Moses (De fide 1.13.83). Repeatedly, Ambrose tries to balance his two major theological concerns, the equality of the divine persons and the unity of their works with the distinctive mission of the Son. While this balance might seem precarious at times—such that Ambrose claims equally that Mamre is a type of the Trinity and an appearance of the Son, but not the Father, under a form—Ambrose brings many of the tensions of theophany narratives to the forefront. He articulates how God might be both invisible and yet “seen” in scriptural narratives, how scripture speaks of the true vision of God as a matter of the heart or mind, and how the Son must be understood as united to the Father in all things to be truly equal to the Father. Yet, he also articulates the importance of the Son’s distinctive, particular work in creation. In many ways, he sorts through the conflicting elements of the theophany narratives and the history of their interpretation, even as he articulates the triune God’s nature and activity in the world. In so doing, Ambrose establishes the foundation for Augustine’s interpretation of the theophanies in stressing the unity of the Trinity’s action in the world and in articulating how God is seen by assuming a created form. Augustine relies on Ambrose more than any other theologian to articulate divine attributes such as invisibility and incorporeality, and he also draws extensively from the bishop of Milan to understand spiritual vision for the “pure in heart.” However, in interpreting particular theophany narratives, Augustine will eventually adopt Ambrose’s trinitarian framework and break from Ambrose’s christological readings, thereby reconceiving of the relation between God’s revelation and self-communication in the history of Israel and in the Word made flesh, Jesus Christ.

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Conclusion to Part One: Development of two exegetical traditions prior to Augustine Two main strands of theophany narrative interpretation emerge in the second to the fourth centuries, and they are espoused by Augustine’s immediate pro-Nicene predecessors, Hilary and Ambrose. The strands demonstrate how widespread the literal christological reading is among second to fourth century authors, particularly their beliefs about the Son’s proper role as mediator and revealer of the Father to the world. While each strand takes up different questions and concerns, together they represent the logic and assumptions for how and why patristic authors might identify Old Testament narratives with the Son. The first, the polemical-doctrinal strand, focuses on the Son’s appearances in the theophanies for the purpose of asserting against various doctrinal opponents Christ’s pre-existence, divinity, and proper activity in creation. In this strand, the Son properly manifests God in the Old Testament, and indeed, in the world. This view not only connects the Son’s manifestations to his purpose in becoming incarnate, it also protects the Father’s impassibility. Interpreters such as Justin, Novatian, and Hilary associate the subject of the theophanies—variously called angel, Lord, and God—with the Son who, as divinely sent, enacts the Father’s will and makes the Father known. Justin establishes the basic pattern of this exegesis, which is further developed by Novatian. Hilary in turn further refines this method of interpretation, reading in Genesis 16–21 a progressive development in doctrine. This strand interprets intertextually, largely drawing from Genesis and Exodus, but occasionally using other Old and New Testament texts to interpret the theophany narratives. Significantly, all three of these theologians read the theophanies as they make christological claims in polemical contexts: Justin argues with the Jew Trypho for the existence of the Son in the scriptures, Novatian argues for the personal distinctions of the Son against Sabellian views, and Hilary argues against Homoians for the proclamation of the Son as one with the Father and equal to him. Thus this first strand turns to theophanies in developing and asserting christological doctrine, even as this doctrine develops significantly in the fourth century arguments over Nicea. The spiritual strand also reads the theophanies christologically, even as some, like Ambrose, complicate this reading. This is largely because these authors assumed the mediation of Christ as a foundational

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element in their theologies. Yet, in this strand, the interpreters are not primarily concerned with identifying who appeared. Rather, they focus more explicitly on how and why God might appear visibly in creation, interpreting the theophanies as promises of spiritual transformation and gift to the pure in heart. For Irenaeus, the claim that no one can see God and live is not only a denial of the vision of God’s glory, but also a promise to Moses of the vision of God’s goodness. So he reasons that in exceptional circumstances the Word reveals the Father, not by revealing the divinity itself, but through special manifestations like the transfiguration. More broadly, God’s goodness and kindness are “seen” in God’s loving acts in the world, which are always mediated by the Son. Likewise for Tertullian the theophanies are a foretaste of future vision and a sign that God will transform human beings to become like the angels, since God could make angels appear as human beings. Both theologians also locate the promise of the theophanies in the life of Christ on earth, as his transfiguration brought to Moses the unveiled vision of God for which he had longed. Origen and Ambrose also fall into this transformative category, emphasizing that the true vision of God is a matter of the heart and requires God’s grace. Further, vision of God in this life can only be partial, since all believers still must deal with the limitations of this mortal body and await their transformation in the resurrection. In addition, Ambrose adds conceptual clarity to theophany interpretation. Many of the early authors speak of the Son as seen in the theophanies, without reflecting further on how this might be possible or what it might mean. That they identify the Son with the theophanies does not mean that they simplistically think the Son is visible in himself; nevertheless they tend to assert that the Son was seen “in human form” without further qualification. Ambrose, following Origen, adds an important idea that Augustine will use heavily in his own theophany interpretation. For Ambrose, God can only be seen by choosing to appear, and not out of necessity. Thus it lies in God’s will, not God’s nature, to be seen. Further, God assumes a form (species) which is visible while the divine nature remains invisible. Finally, even this sight requires grace to be seen; a theophany is fundamentally a privileged, exceptional revelation given by grace only in the rarest circumstances. Yet, even as the two exegetical strands develop, their theological underpinnings begin to shift, foreshadowing the coming challenge to the christological reading. Ambrose claims that divine invisibility

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applies equally to the Son, the Holy Spirit, and the Father. While Hilary insists upon divine equality but distinguishes the divine persons in their offices, Ambrose is much less inclined to stress the Son’s “office” to become visible in the theophanies by virtue of his role to become incarnate. For Hilary, the Father commands while it is proper to the Son to execute, and therefore the Son is the one who mediates the Father’s will in the theophanies. For Ambrose, however, the Son and the Father are not only equal but inseparable in their works. Therefore it is much more difficult for him to attribute theophanies exclusively to the Son, although at times he will. This emphasis on divine inseparability lays the foundation for Augustine’s key claim that when the Son is sent into the world, not only the Father sends, but the Son and the Spirit also are involved in the sending (see below, chapter five). Finally, Ambrose is the first to read the Mamre theophany as a trinitarian type. As so much of early Christian theophany exegesis is oriented either to the Son’s manifestation or to figures of the incarnation, this move towards a trinitarian interpretation is a major shift away from the dominant christological concerns of patristic theophany exegesis. Undoubtedly it influences Augustine’s similar interpretation of Mamre as an indication of the unity of the Trinity. Thus Ambrose provides some key elements of Augustine’s distinctive interpretation, laying the foundation for a shift away from christological identification. More positively, the spiritual strand, and Ambrose’s exegesis in particular, provides some of the key concepts of Augustine’s own exegesis, which will emphasize signs and mediation in the context of faith and spiritual growth. Ultimately, both strands converge in Augustine’s reading of the theophanies, as he challenges the literal christological reading that so pervaded the exegesis of his predecessors.

PART TWO

FROM CHRIST TO TRIUNE GOD: AUGUSTINE’S CRITIQUE OF PATRISTIC THEOPHANY NARRATIVE EXEGESIS

CHAPTER FOUR

VISION, SIGNS, AND CHRIST IN AUGUSTINE’S EARLY THEOPHANY NARRATIVE INTERPRETATION If the vision of God represented the apex of human spiritual experience for early Christian authors, the theophany narratives presented puzzling, elusive stories of seeing and not seeing, manifestation and hiddenness. In their attempts to understand God’s activity in the world, these authors developed a christological reading that explored the tensions and ambiguities of the narratives, emphasizing the Son’s mediatory role and capacity to enter the world in contrast to the Father’s impassibility. As a result, they claimed that Christ was manifested in the Old Testament, a strange and foreign claim to readers using modern exegetical methods. Yet, if the literal christological reading developed on patristic terms, it was also first challenged on patristic terms, namely, by Augustine of Hippo around the year 400. This challenge clearly emerged out of Augustine’s own theological development, since he first embraced the literal christological reading in his anti-Manichean exegesis (ca. 394). Thus, in the writings of Augustine one sees a theological evolution and growing critique rooted in the influence of the pro-Nicene trinitarian theology of Ambrose and Hilary. In turn, Augustine’s critical reading of the theophanies yielded a more nuanced perspective of their spiritual implications as signs within the larger incarnational framework of God’s use of creation to effect spiritual transformation. In short, Augustine shows both creative and critical use of exegetical traditions, demonstrating a patristic capacity for self-critique prompted by theological development. While the first part of this study takes up the question of how and why early Christian authors read the theophanies christologically, the second part examines how and why Augustine challenged their christological reading of these narratives even as he developed the theological and spiritual implications of the theophany narratives for the vision of God. With the authors preceding Augustine, different questions emerged as they took up the theophanies to think through their doctrinal, polemical, and spiritual concerns. These diverse authors

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clustered around two distinct strands of exegesis, depending on the questions they asked. While all of the authors identified the theophanies as appearances of Christ, those involved in polemics over doctrine primarily asked who appeared, looking for proof of the Son’s distinctive identity and activity. In contrast, the spiritual strand largely assumed the Son’s agency, asking instead how and why the Son appears in the world. Together, the two strands indicate development in christological interpretation of theophanies, addressing early Christian beliefs of divine mediation, revelation, and passibility, as well as the role of vision in spiritual growth. Although the two strands are not mutually exclusive—authors like Tertullian could and did consider both christological doctrine and spiritual growth in their exegesis—noticing what questions they ask helps us to understand what motivates christological exegesis of the theophanies. Implicit in these questions are other theological concerns: how can the invisible, impassible God appear physically in time and space? Does creation reveal or obscure God’s presence? How can embodied, finite human beings, learning through their senses, encounter a God who is infinite and spiritual? These deeper questions reveal the complexity of patristic theophany interpretation, indicating how and why ideas about revelation, mediation, creation, sensory knowledge, and spiritual experience are critical to understanding this exegesis. They do not simply identify the theophanies with Christ out of careless reading; instead, they consider genuinely perplexing narratives by examining ambiguities in the narratives within their theological and philosophical frameworks. Nevertheless, the development of the christological reading was challenged by Augustine even as he relied on earlier interpreters like Ambrose to understand the theophanies. How and why did Augustine reject the christological reading? Who appeared in the theophanies, if not the Son? And, how do these strange, exemplary stories of seeing God relate to Augustine’s spirituality, so deeply rooted in the goal of the spiritual vision of God? These questions form the basis of the second part of this study, the challenge to the christological reading in Augustine’s thought. In Augustine, one sees the polemical-doctrinal and spiritual strands converging, even as certain of his writings are more concerned with doctrine or spiritual vision. Thus, Augustine illustrates an important exegetical shift, critiquing the christological reading on patristic grounds, namely, late fourth-century pro-Nicene trinitarian theology. In addition, his interpretation addresses how the

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triune God uses creation and the scriptures to correct false images of God and to bring people to spiritual vision. To understand the complexity and nuance of this exegetical shift, one must first understand how and why Augustine initially embraced the christological reading in the early 390s before breaking from it in his treatise De Trinitate around the year 400. What motivated such a reading, and what theological framework did he use, particularly regarding christology, creation and history, scripture and signs, and sensory perception and spiritual vision? Chapter four takes up these questions by focusing on two early works by Augustine, De vera religione (390) and Contra Adimantum (ca. 394), the former providing the early theological framework and the latter showing Augustine’s only use of the christological reading of the theophanies. In De vera religione, Augustine presents his understanding of the role of creation and incarnation in one’s spiritual ascent. This provides a foundation with which to assess the ideas and questions prompted by the theophany narratives for Augustine. Contra Adimantum turns to the theophanies explicitly to understand the relation between Christ and the Old Testament. Here Augustine demonstrates both his reliance upon earlier, christologically-motivated exegesis as well as the theological beginnings of his departure from it. Together, the two treatises show how Augustine initially embraced the christological reading of his predecessors, given his ideas about Christ, signs, and the place of sensory experience in spirituality. After this examination of how and why Augustine first read the theophanies christologically, chapter five will take up how Augustine changed his theophany exegesis, and chapter six will consider what this change meant for his subsequent theological and spiritual writings. On true religion: Christian belief, creation, and spiritual ascent The period of Augustine’s writings prior to De Trinitate is relatively brief, dating from his conversion in 386 and marked by his ordination to the priesthood in 391 and to the episcopacy in 395. Because of the dramatic nature of Augustine’s own journey in this period, ranging from a Christian philosopher living in a devoted philosophical community of friends1 to a bishop entrusted with routine sacramental, homiletical, 1 See Peter Brown’s chapter “The Lost Future” for a compelling reading of what the loss of Augustine’s ideal of living in a philosophical community meant for his

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and administrative duties,2 it is not surprising that Augustine’s theology in this period shows marked development, when Augustine’s ministry would have required much more study of scripture. Additionally, Augustine’s theology in the 390s was seriously altered by his reading of Paul on operative grace, which further explains why this period in Augustine’s life witnessed such rich development.3 Michael Cameron argues that Augustine’s theological developments in this period altered both his christology and his sign theory. As Augustine came to a greater appreciation for Christ’s humanity, united to divinity, and its signficance for salvation, so his understanding of signs evolved from a disjunctive view, in which signs point toward separate realities, to a conjunctive view, in which signs carry and offer within their form the realities that they signify. Thus, Augustine’s theological development involves a greater sense of “sacramentality” in which physical, visible signs can present, and not merely indicate, invisible realities, just as Christ’s divinity is encountered in and through his humanity.4 Written in 390, shortly before Augustine’s ordination to the priesthood, De vera religione represents Augustine’s early thought on how Christian faith and practice informs the ascent of the soul. The treatise forms a bridge between Augustine’s earlier philosophical works, written shortly after his baptism, and the writings shaped by his ordained ministry; it shows a strong affinity for Neoplatonic spirituality and also defends the Catholic faith against Manichean arguments (9.16–17; retr. 1.13.1).5 Particularly significant for his early theophany exegesis are Augustine’s christology, his descriptions of the role of faith, and ultimately how bodily experience relates to spiritual vision.

Christian commitment and self-understanding. In Augustine of Hippo: A Biography (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), 139–150. 2 For a study of Augustine’s episcopal activity, see F. Van der Meer, Augustine the Bishop (New York: Harper and Row, 1961). 3 See J. Patout Burns, The Development of Augustine’s Doctrine of Operative Grace (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1980); Paula Fredriksen, “Augustine’s Early Interpretation of Paul” (Ph.D. diss., Princeton University, 1979). 4 See Michael Cameron, “Augustine’s Construction of Figurative Exegesis Against the Donatists in the ‘Ennarrationes in Psalmos,’” (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1996), 70–71. 5 For Augustine’s use of Porphyry and Plotinus, see Frederick Van Fleteren, “Authority and Reason, Faith and Understanding in the Thought of Augustine,” Augustinian Studies 4 (1973): 33–71; Robert J. O’Connell, St. Augustine’s Early Theory of Man, A.D. 386–391 (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Harvard, 1968); and the two scholars’ interchange in Augustinian Studies 21 (1990): 86–152.

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Augustine’s main motive in the work is to describe the “true religion,” which he says consists in the worship of the one true God.6 Christianity embodies this true religion: “to know and to follow [the Christian religion] is the most secure and most certain way of salvation” (ea est nostris temporibus christiana religio, quam cognoscere ac sequi, securissima ac certissima salus est, 10.19).7 Yet, he aligns Platonism quite closely with Christianity, arguing that “if these [Platonists] could live their lives again today, they would see by whose authority measures are best taken for human salvation, and, with the change of few words and sentiments, they would have become Christians, as many Platonists of recent times have done.”8 What Augustine admires about Platonism is precisely what he (implicitly) argues against Manichaeism:

6 vera rel. 1.1: Omnis vitae bonae ac beatae via in vera religione sit constituta, qua unus Deus colitur, et purgatissima pietate cognoscitur principium naturarum omnium. The Latin text is from Aurelii Augustini Opera, Pars IV, 1: De Doctrina Christiana; De Vera Religione, ed. Joseph Martin and K.-D. Daur, CCSL 32 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1962). English translations are taken from Augustine: Earlier Writings, trans. John H. S. Burleigh, Library of Christian Classics (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1953). 7 See also retr. 1.13.3: “What is now called the Christian religion existed of old and was never absent from the beginning of the human race until Christ came in the flesh. Then true religion which already existed began to be called Christian.” Latin text is from: Aurelii Augustini Opera: Retractationum Libri II, ed. Almut Mutzenbecher, CCSL 57 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1984). It reads: Nam res ipsa, quae nunc christiana religio nuncupatur, erat apud antiquos, nec defuit ab initio generis humani, quousque ipse Christus veniret in carne, unde vera religio quae iam erat, coepit appellari christiana. In Augustine’s understanding of “the true religion,” Christianity most fully and clearly embodies this religion, but not exclusively. Before the incarnation, certainly Judaism was the major means of God’s “temporal dispensation” of salvation; perhaps Platonism also fits under this category, given Augustine’s many speculations that Plato and his followers had the content of this true religion but either dared not practice it publicly (3.5, 4.6) or lacked the authority of Christian teaching (4.7). 8 Likely Augustine is referring to Marius Victorinus and Ambrose, two Latin Christians whose Neoplatonic background greatly affected Augustine’s assessment of the compatibility of Neoplatonic ideas and the Christian faith. Vera rel. 4.7, translation slightly modified and emphasis added: Itaque si hanc vitam illi viri nobiscum rursum agere potuissent, viderent profecto cuius auctoritate facilius consuleretur hominibus, et paucis mutatis verbis atque sententiis christiani fierent, sicut plerique recentiorum nostrorumque temporum Platonici fecerunt. Augustine’s view here that only a few words or opinions need be changed to reconcile Platonism and Christianity recalls his statement in Confessions 7.13 that in the books of the Platonists Augustine read the doctrine of the Word that is expressed in John 1:1–5, although “the same words were not used” (quosdam Platonicorum libros . . . ibi legi non quidem his verbis, sed hoc idem omnino multis et multiplicibus suaderi rationibus, quod in principio erat verbum et verbum erat apud deum et deus erat verbum). Latin text is from: Aurelii Augustini Opera: Confessionum Libri XIII, ed. Lucas Verheijen, O.S.A., CCSL 27 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1981).

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a focus on the one true God, who is immaterial and unequaled, to whom humanity aspires by seeking to rise above the limitations of the body to a spiritual, intellectual perception of the divine. Thus the treatise addresses how the soul ascends from the physical world to the intellectual, and in particular it focuses on how God enables the soul to rise, by means of both the mediation of creatures and divine grace. Augustine’s articulation of the true religion is, then, a defense of Christianity against Manichaeism (retr. 1.13.1) by its affirmation of the use of creation in spirituality, as well as the immaterial and intellectual end of the spiritual ascent, the God who is the principle of unity in the universe. While the work makes explicit positive comparisons to Platonism (e.g., 2.2, 3.3, 3.5, 4.6–7), much of it focuses on how God has established a “temporal dispensation” (dispensatio temporalis; 7.13) in history.9 In this dispensation God uses temporal and visible things as a kind of medicine to heal the mind (16.30, 24.45), which is burdened by weakness, mortality, and a predilection towards the enjoyment of bodily rather than spiritual things (12.23, 15.29). Such healing through temporal or tangible means makes the mind fit to “perceive spiritual things” (idoneam faciet spiritualibus percipiendis; vera rel. 7.13). This focus on sense perception in spiritual ascent sets the framework for interpreting such visible phenomena as the theophanies, although Augustine’s discussion of the theophanies comes at the end of the work and only briefly. Thus, De vera religione is important in tracing the development of Augustine’s theophany narrative interpretation largely in understanding how he values visible, tangible phenomena and the role of sense perception in the ascent to God. In setting forth his understanding of the true religion, Augustine begins by emphasizing the centrality of salvation history to Christianity: In following this religion our chief concern is with the history and prophecy of the temporal dispensation of divine providence—what God has done for the salvation of the human race, renewing and restoring it unto eternal life. When once this is believed, a way of life agreeable to the divine commandments will purge the mind and make it fit to per-

9 vera rel. 7.13: Huius religionis sectandae caput est historia et prophetia dispensationis temporalis divinae providentiae, pro salute generis humani in aeternam vitam reformandi atque reparandi.

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ceive spiritual things which are neither past nor future but abide ever the same, liable to no change.10

Christian history and prophecy form the basis of belief, which coupled with obedience to the commandments purges the mind for perceiving non-temporal realities.11 Augustine is unclear here whether belief in the temporal dispensation teaches the divine commandments, thus helping one to discern and follow them, or if such belief makes it easier to live according to the commandments. In either case, he stresses that both belief and moral conduct facilitate the mind’s purification. And, in both belief and the moral life, the means to the perception of eternal, divine realities is through the temporal dispensation. Thus, while Christianity might be quite similar to Platonism in many respects of the spiritual ascent to God, here Augustine emphasizes belief in the particular prophecy and history of salvation in Christianity as the means of ascent.12 Augustine’s understanding of “what God has done for the salvation of the human race” must be traced back to the “primal sin” of Adam and Eve in Eden (12.25). The effects of this sin are bodily weakness and mortality. While these effects of sin are just punishments for Adam and Eve’s preference to eat the fruit rather than trust God’s command, according to Augustine these “punishments” are also signs of God’s mercy, since through their weakness and death human beings learn

10

vera rel. 7.13, translation slightly modified: Huius religionis sectandae caput est historia et prophetia dispensationis temporalis divinae providentiae, pro salute generis humani in aeternam vitam reformandi atque reparandi. Quae cum credita fuerit, mentem purgabit vitae modus divinis praeceptis conciliatus, et idoneam faciet spiritualibus percipiendis, quae nec praeterita sunt, nec futura, sed eodem modo semper manentia nulli mutabilitati obnoxia. 11 In Saeculum Robert Markus argues that Augustine’s understanding of prophecy and history changes significantly from his view in De vera religione. In the excerpt above, prophecy and history are two distinct things, the first of which tells the future, the second of which refers to the past. In De civitate Dei (ca. 413–427) Markus sees history and prophecy joined together in a “prophetic history,” in which the prophetic character is distinguished by the prophet or interpreter’s divinely-given insight into historical events. Thus it is the interpretation, not the events themselves, that make the history prophetic and unify the two. See Markus, “History, Prophecy, and Inspiration,” in Saeculum: History and Society in the Theology of St. Augustine (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), 187–196. 12 For more on Augustine’s early view of history and faith as a starting point, in contrast to the intellectual perception of divine things, see div. qu. 48, in which Augustine distinguishes things that are believed and never understood, such as temporal events, with things that are first believed and later understood, namely, divine truth.

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of the fleeting and ultimately unsatisfying nature of bodily things. He writes, The human body was perfect of its kind before sin, but after sin it became weak and mortal. Though that was the just punishment for sin, nevertheless it showed more of the clemency of the Lord than of his severity. We are thus admonished that we ought to turn our love from bodily pleasures to the eternal essence of truth.13

Augustine goes on to describe how through the weakness and corruptibility of the body people are taught (erudiri) to seek out higher, incorruptible truth, and that human beings are granted this life in the corruptible body to “work towards righteousness,” submitting to God and giving up pride in oneself.14 Thus, bodily difficulties and mortality function to teach people to value the immutable and eternal. The two most notable characteristics of Augustine’s view of the effects of sin are that they are didactic and merciful, two characteristics that will also shape Augustine’s understanding of redemption in Christ as the remedy for sin. Christology Augustine’s understanding of the theophanies—historical events in which God communicated under created form to men and women— becomes relevant when he articulates how God uses multiple means to heal souls of the effects of sin. These various means of healing include visible miracles (16.31, 25.47) and the history of God’s interaction with humanity (25.46), but pre-eminent among all the means of healing is the incarnation of the Word (16.30). As Augustine writes, the incarnation exceeds all other forms of divine healing in its display of

13 vera rel. 15.29: Quod vero corpus hominis, cum ante peccatum esset in suo genere optimum, post peccatum factum est imbecillosum et morti destinatum, quanquam justa vindicta peccati sit, plus tamen clementiae Domini quam severitatis ostendit. Ita enim nobis suadetur a corporis voluptatibus, ad aeternam essentiam veritatis amorem nostrum oportere converti. 14 vera rel. 15.29: Et est justitiae pulchritudo cum benignitatis gratia concordans, ut quoniam bonorum inferiorum dulcedine decepti sumus, amaritudine poenarum erudiamur. Nam ita etiam nostra supplicia divina providentia moderata est, ut et in hoc corpore tam corruptibili ad justitiam tendere liceret, et deposita omni superbia uni Deo vero collum subdere, nihil de seipso fidere, illi uni se regendum tuendumque committere.

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God’s love; yet, it is largely continuous with all the other forms in their didactic nature: To heal souls God adopts all kind of means suitable to the times which are ordered by his marvelous wisdom. . . . But in no way did he show greater loving-kindness in his dealings with the human race for its good, than when the Wisdom of God, his only Son, co-eternal and consubstantial with the Father, deigned to assume human nature; when the Word became flesh and dwelled among us. For thus he showed to carnal people, given over to bodily sense and unable with the mind to behold the truth, how lofty a place among creatures belonged to human nature, in that he appeared to human beings not merely visibly—for he could have done that in some ethereal body adapted to our weak powers of vision—but as a true human being. For the very nature that was to be liberated had to be received by him.15

Augustine’s description of the “merely visible” appearances of God through “some ethereal body” recalls the Old Testament theophanies mediated by angels. The contrast he sets up between the incarnation and the theophanies indicates that the incarnation accomplishes something that the other means of healing cannot, namely, the liberation of human beings. Yet, in describing the incarnation Augustine largely relies on the language of indication and teaching, as in the above passage, in which the incarnate Word showed (demonstravit) the lofty place that human nature has among creatures. When Augustine describes how Christ liberates human beings, he uses such language even more emphatically: Christ persuades and warns (suadendo et monendo) people to choose a right course of action; he commends faith by his miracles and passion (miraculis conciliavit fidem Deo qui erat, passione homini quem gerebat, 16.31). His life was a teaching in morals (tota itaque vita eius in terris . . . disciplina morum fuit, 16.32), and even his resurrection—that event that, in many theologies, qualitatively changes human existence—showed the ultimate imperishability

15 vera rel. 16.30, translation slightly modified: Sed cum omnibus modis medeatur animis Deus pro temporum opportunitatibus, quae mira sapientia eius ordinantur… nullo modo beneficentius consuluit generi humano, quam cum ipsa Sapientia Dei, id est unicus Filius consubstantialis Patri et coaeternus, totum hominem suscipere dignatus est, et Verbum caro factum est, et habitavit in nobis. Ita enim demonstravit carnalibus, et non valentibus intueri mente veritatem, corporeisque sensibus deditis, quam excelsum locum inter creaturas habeat humana natura, quod non solum visibiliter (nam id poterat et in aliquo aethereo corpore ad nostrorum aspectuum tolerantiam temperato), sed hominibus in vero homine apparuit: ipsa enim natura suscipienda erat quae liberanda.

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of human nature (resurrectio vero eius a mortuis, nihil hominis perire naturae, cum omnia salva sunt Deo, satis indicavit; 16.32).16 Augustine’s christology here is dominated by language of teaching and showing.17 While he stresses the importance of Christ’s becoming a human being, his understanding of the incarnation largely centers upon how Christ demonstrates what to believe and how to live.18 To use Michael Cameron’s analysis, Augustine’s christology here correlates with his disjunctive understanding of signs; just as at this period in his exegesis the purpose of signs is to point toward another reality, in his early christology Christ’s flesh indicates his divinity more than mediates it through their union.19 Certainly this is not to deny Christ’s role as healer or the importance of his assumption of human nature. Yet, it is notable that here Augustine’s articulation of Christ’s work largely focuses on teaching human beings certain intelligible things. In contrast, a few years later (ca. 396) Augustine in De agone christiano distinguishes purpose of the incarnation from that of the Holy Spirit’s theophany, saying that the Holy Spirit became a dove to signify innocence and love, while Christ became human to liberate human beings:

16 De diversis quaestionibus octoginta tribus (388/96) shows much of the same didactic emphasis as De vera religione. Both speak of Christ as the exemplar who demonstrates how one should live. For example, in question 25, “de cruce Christi,” Augustine writes, “The Wisdom of God became human as an example by which we might live virtuously. Part of living the virtuous life involves not fearing those things that ought not to be feared. But death is not to be feared. Therefore it was necessary for this to be shown [monstrari] by the death of that man whom the Wisdom of God became.” div. qu. 25, translation slightly modified. English translation is taken from Eighty-Three Different Questions, trans. David L. Mosher, FC 70 (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1982). 17 For more on Augustine’s evolving christology, see Robert O’Connell, Augustine’s Early Theory of Man, A.D. 386–391, pp. 258ff., in which O’Connell argues for the Neoplatonic character of Augustine’s christology until 391. If O’Connell’s argument is correct, it would explain why Augustine’s description of Christ in De vera religione focuses on how Christ teaches about God, human existence, and redemption. However, many scholars oppose O’Connell’s thesis and argue that the shift in Augustine’s christology came with his conversion in 386. See G. Madec, “Une lecture de Confessions VII, ix, 13—xxi, 27: Notes critiques à propos d’une thèse de R. J. O’Connell,” Revue des ètudes augustiniennes 16 (1970): 79–137; J. J. O’Donnell, Confessions, vol. 2: Commentary 1–7 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), 413–418, 421–424. 18 See also div. qu. 43, where Augustine compares the incarnation with the Holy Spirit’s manifestation as a dove: “Because the Son of God came to show [demonstraret] human beings a pattern for living, whereas the Holy Spirit made his appearance to indicate [significaret] the gift which virtuous living attains.” 19 See Cameron, “Augustine’s Construction of Figurative Exegesis,” 73–74.

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Let us not heed those who say that our Lord had a body like that of the dove which John the Baptist beheld coming down from heaven, as a sign of the Holy Spirit. . . . The reason why the Holy Spirit was not born of a dove, whereas Christ was born of a woman, is this: The Holy Spirit did not come to liberate doves, but to signify to human beings innocence and spiritual love, which was figured in the form of a dove. The Lord Jesus Christ, having come to liberate human beings, including both men and women, destined for salvation, was not ashamed of the male nature, for he took it upon himself; or of the female, for he was born of a woman. . . . We do not mean to imply that only the Lord Jesus Christ had a true body, but that the Holy Spirit appeared falsely to human eyes. We believe that both those bodies were real.20

Here Augustine contrasts the Holy Spirit’s bodily mission and Christ’s, saying that the former’s purpose was to signify while the latter’s was to liberate by means of assuming human nature. For the Holy Spirit, using a body temporarily is adequate for signifying God’s love, but Christ’s mission required not merely signifying but becoming a human being (suscipere hominem). While this language of assuming human nature is not absent from Augustine’s earlier works, it takes on greater prominence in De agone christiano, especially by being contrasted to signification. For signs are adequate to show, demonstrate, warn, persuade, and commend, as with Augustine’s christology in De vera religione. Thus, Augustine’s developing christology in the 390s hints at broader theological developments about signs, grace, and divine presence in the world, at the same time that his theophany interpretation changes.

20 agon. 22.24, trans. modified. English translation taken from Writings of Saint Augustine, vol. 4, Fathers of the Church (New York: Cima, 1947). The Latin text is from: Sancti Aureli Augustini Opera, Sect. V, Pars III: De Agone Christiano, ed. Joseph Zycha, CSEL 41 (Vienna: Tempsky, 1900). It reads: Nec eos audiamus, qui tale corpus dominum nostrum habuisse dicunt, quale apparuit in columba, quam vidit Iohannes Baptista descendentem de caelo et manentem super eum in signo spiritus sancti. . . . quare autem spiritus sanctus non est natus de columba, quemadmodum Christus de femina, illa causa est, quia non columbas liberare venerat spiritus sanctus, sed hominibus significare innocentiam et amorem spiritalem, quod in columbae specie visibiliter figuratum est. Dominus autem Iesus Christus, qui venerat ad homines liberandos, in quibus et mares et feminae pertinent ad salutem, nec mares fastidivit, quia marem suscepit, nec feminas, quia de femina natus est. . . . Neque hoc ita dicimus, ut dominum Iesum Christum dicamus solum verum corpus habuisse, spiritum autem sanctum fallaciter apparuisse oculis hominum; sed ambo illa corpora vera corpora credimus.

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This emphasis on Christ as teacher underscores another of Augustine’s main concerns in De vera religione, namely, that authority is one method God uses for the progressive healing of the human mind, and that faith in this authority is the means by which healing can occur. Augustine describes the place of authority and reason in the soul’s journey: The treatment of the soul, which God’s providence and ineffable lovingkindness administers, is most beautiful in its steps and stages. It is divided into authority and reason. Authority demands faith and prepares human beings for reason. Reason leads to understanding and knowledge. But reason is not entirely absent from authority, for we have got to consider whom we have to believe, and the highest authority belongs to truth when it is clearly known.21

Thus God uses reason and authority together to heal the soul over a series of stages (see 26.48ff).22 The two can be considered separately, but in actual human experience they are intertwined, as reason is required to make judgments (24.45, 29.53) and authority is pres21 vera rel. 24.45, translation slightly modifed: Quamobrem ipsa quoque animae medicina, quae divina providentia et ineffabili beneficentia geritur, gradatim distincteque pulcherrima est. Distribuitur enim in auctoritatem atque rationem. Auctoritas fidem flagitat, et rationi praeparat hominem. Ratio ad intellectum cognitionemque perducit. Quamquam neque auctoritatem ratio penitus deserit, cum consideratur cui sit credendum: et certe summa est ipsius iam cognitae atque perspicuae veritatis auctoritas. 22 In vera rel. 26.49 Augustine details seven stages of spiritual rebirth, illustrating how one progresses from the vetus et exterior et terrenus homo to the novus et interior et caelestis homo. The stages underscore how authority (first stage: primam in uberibus utilis historiae, quae nutrit exemplis) and reason (second stage: secundam jam obliviscentem humana, et ad divina tendentem, in qua non auctoritatis humanae sinu continetur, sed ad summam et incommutabilem legem passibus rationis innititur) are involved in the process, with authority preceding reason temporally. The stages also underscore that the process is life-long; the first two stages are the foundation of the journey, but it must pass through several more stages—including the need to establish reason over the “carnal appetite” (third stage), to become stronger in one’s actions (fourth stage), and to find peace (fifth stage). Thus, the middle stages solidify what was begun in the first and second stages, indicating the difficulty of the journey. Only in death is the person completely transformed (sixth stage), finding eternal rest (seventh stage). See also Gn. adv. Man. 1.25.43, where Augustine gives an allegorical interpretation of the six days of creation, representing life stages in moving from physical vision and faith to the perception of truth: “On the first day is the light of faith, when one believes first in visible things, and on account of this faith the Lord deigned to appear visibly.”

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ent in the highest knowledge, knowing the One who is truth. What is significant here is how Augustine articulates the place of faith and knowledge in this intertwined progression of the soul by reason and authority. Faith properly belongs to authority; something is believed because an authority advocates it to be trustworthy and credible. Here Augustine distinguishes the faith that is believed on account of authority from what is known on account of reason. Thus, faith is a temporal means to the greater good of the rational apprehension of truth, and indeed distinct from it. Yet, Augustine’s statement that truth is the highest authority perhaps suggests that faith in authority, if that authority itself is truth, is also an apprehension of truth. If this is true, then the difference between faith and rational knowledge lies not so much in how they are effected but in the manner by which they allow the mind to perceive (intueri) truth. For Augustine, this distinction between faith and rational knowledge largely concerns the role of sense perception. As the desire for temporal, bodily things is the major problem of human existence, so too the remedy begins with the temporal medicine of faith in God’s actions in history, especially in Christ’s life, passion, and resurrection. Augustine writes: But because we dwell among temporal things, and love of them is an obstacle to our reaching eternal things, a kind of temporal medicine, calling not those who know but those who believe back to health, has priority by the order, not of nature or its inherent excellence, but of time.23

So this “temporal medicine” for those who love “temporal things” aids believers who are not yet able to behold truth with the mind. Of such temporal medicine Augustine writes that “God in his ineffable mercy by a temporal dispensation has used the mutable creation . . . to remind the soul of its original and perfect nature,”24 and that the mercy of God is shown to humanity in certain events that must be believed on the basis of authority (8.14). These events include the incarnation, the virgin birth, the death of the Son of God, his resurrection and ascension, forgiveness, the day of judgment, and the resurrection of the body 23 vera rel. 24.45: Sed quia in temporalia devenimus, et eorum amore ab aeternis impedimur, quaedam temporalis medicina, quae non scientes, sed credentes ad salutem vocat, non naturae et excellentiae, sed ipsius temporis ordine prior est. 24 vera rel. 10.19: Ineffabili misericordia Dei temporali dispensatione per creaturam mutabilem . . . ad commemorationem primae suae perfectaeque naturae.

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(8.14). Further, in the time before Christ, people were influenced to desire grace by being “burdened with many sacraments” (multis sacramentis onerabatur), that is, with prophetic signs and rituals (17.33). Thus, throughout history God uses the mutable creation to teach about and effect the healing of the mind; this is done out of mercy, just as the punishments of weakness and mortality in Genesis 3 were imposed out of mercy. This means that the healing of the mind largely occurs through interaction with the temporal, physical world. How fully the human person might attain purely intellectual experience in this life, leaving aside the physical and temporal, is debatable, but in this work Augustine thinks one’s dependence upon sense perception and temporal things will fade.25 What is most significant here is that faith and authority begin the process, and that the most central elements of the Christian religion—the incarnation, passion, and resurrection of Christ, as well as God’s actions among the people of Israel and their prophetic rituals—all belong to this category of authority that is temporally prior to reason, but subordinate in nature and excellence. Thus in Augustine’s view, the beliefs and practices of the Christian religion, held because of their authority, purify the mind for what it otherwise could not do: know and perceive eternal truth. Such faith here enables the mind to know, aided by reason, but it is not itself the grasp of eternal, intellectual things. The mind must be purified from its attachment to bodily things, so that it might function properly, unencumbered in its purely intellectual perception. Augustine’s spirituality in this work proposes how Christianity provides the means of this purification. According to his understanding of religion, the ends of Christianity and Neoplatonism are much the same: to perceive God with the mind, unencumbered by the bodily senses. But the means of achieving such vision lies in the history of Christianity and ancient Judaism, filled with particular rites, beliefs, sacraments, and miracles that use visible phenomena to inspire belief. Even if such miracles and rites might no longer be seen or performed, these accounts of sacred

25 vera rel. 24.45: His ergo carnalibus vel corporalibus formis inhaerere amore pueros necesse est; adolescentes vero prope necesse est; hinc jam procedente aetate non est necesse. Yet, Augustine writes in 27.50 that until death one must deal with the vetus homo, which encompasses the natural course of mortal human life: Sicut autem isti ambo nullo dubitante ita sunt, ut unum eorum, id est veterem atque terrenum, possit in hac tota vita unus homo agere, novum vero et caelestem nemo in hac vita possit nisi cum vetere; nam et ab ipso incipiat necesse est, et usque ad visibilem mortem cum illo, quamvis eo deficiente, se proficiente, perduret.

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historical deeds are useful in inspiring belief before reason is made fit to contemplate divine things (25.47).26 For most of the treatise Augustine describes in general terms the use of bodily forms in the Christian religion, briefly mentioning examples like the incarnation, sacred history in scripture, visible miracles, and the “sacraments” or rites of the people of God before the coming of Christ. Presumably such bodily forms could include events like the burning bush or Mamre, but Augustine discusses these very little until the end of the treatise. After a long discussion of the advancement of reason from visible to invisible realities (29.52ff), Augustine contemplates the role of “phantasms” in hindering this progress of reason. Phantasms are images of sensible things in the mind; they are not so much images impressed upon the mind from sensation, but fanciful images that the mind creates, drawing from its experiences of sensation.27 Thus, one can imagine an object or a person that does not exist, doing things that were never done (34.64). Phantasms are false and illusory, since they reflect the mind’s creation rather than sensory perception of physical reality. Because they are false, they are also inferior in nature to bodily objects, and when misused, the sin is worse than the worship of physical objects (38.69). They make the mind restless, desiring what it does not have and obscuring the unity of truth (35.65). Augustine sees phantasms as a particular spiritual challenge because they occupy and divert the mind when it is poised to ascend to higher intellectual realities; it is not the attachment to bodily things that is the most severe problem of the human condition so much as the mind’s attraction to illusion and falseness. For these illusions make people think they are spiritual, when their spirituality is based upon falsity. Augustine invokes the theophanies as a remedy for phantasms. Building upon his assertions that God uses visible things to heal the soul of its inordinate attachments, he writes:

26 See also Expositio Epistulae ad Galatas 15.13 (394), in which Augustine considers the miracles of Jesus as signs of spiritual realities, such as love and humility. In his view, these signs cause observers to seek out faith in invisible realities when normal sensory experience alone cannot explain such phenomena. 27 The best definition Augustine gives of “phantasm” is in De Musica 6.11.32, in which he contrasts phantasiai and phantasmata. The former are images impressed upon the memory by the bodily senses, while the later are “images of images” that the mind makes from its sensory images. Thus, phantasms are one step further removed from sensible reality than fantasies are.

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chapter four If we cannot yet cleave to eternity, at least let us drive away our phantasms, and cast out of our mental vision trifling and deceptive games. Let us use the steps which divine providence has deigned to make for us. When we delighted over much in silly figments, and grew vain in our thoughts, and turned our whole life into vain dreams, the ineffable mercy of God did not disdain to use rational creatures to teach us by means of sounds and letters, by fire and smoke and cloudy pillar, as by visible words. So with parables and similitudes in a fashion he played with us when we were children, and sought to heal our inward eyes by smearing them with clay.28

Augustine’s language here of using rational creatures (likely angels) and “fire,” “smoke,” “cloud,” and “pillar” alludes to the signs and wonders displayed to Moses and the people of Israel in the book of Exodus. This refers to the many ways that God uses creatures as visible signs of the divine presence in the scriptures.Therefore, he is not considering who is seen in these narratives, but how and why God uses rational creatures and “visible words” to heal the “inward eyes,” the classic concerns of the spiritual strand. While this means of healing might seem humble and even foolish, as with Jesus’ use of clay to heal the eyes (John 9:6), it is precisely the means employed by God to heal the mind of phantasms. Here, visible reality corrects the mind’s false images, and therefore God uses creatures to communicate visibly what God intends for human beings to learn. These “visible words” are provisional, useful until the inward eye is healed and no longer needs outward visible sights and signs; yet they are also providential, as part of God’s overarching plan of redemption that culminates in the incarnation of the Word. Thus, in De vera religione Augustine provides a foundation for interpreting the theophany narratives. Repeatedly Augustine emphasizes how Christianity provides the means towards the goal of true religion: worshipping the one, true, invisible, and immutable God. History and prophecy dominate Augustine’s understanding of the temporal means toward the eternal and spiritual end, emphasizing 28 vera rel. 50.98: Cui si nondum possumus inhaerere, obiurgemus saltem nostra phantasmata, et tam nugatorios et deceptorios ludos de spectaculo mentis eiiciamus. Utamur gradibus quos nobis divina providentia fabricare dignata est. Cum enim figmentis ludicris nimium delectati evanesceremus in cogitationibus nostris, et totam vitam in quaedam vana somnia verteremus; rationali creatura serviente legibus suis, per sonos ac litteras, ignem, fumum, nubem, columnam, quasi quaedam verba visibilia, cum infantia nostra parabolis ac similitudinibus quodammodo ludere, et interiores oculos nostros luto huiuscemodi curare non aspernata est ineffabilis misericordia Dei.

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“visible words” given through rational creatures to heal the soul, above all in the Word made visible, Jesus Christ. Yet, Augustine’s understanding of healing through created means and his christology largely consist of how these means teach and demonstrate. Given this foundation, God’s use of creatures to communicate with human beings in Genesis is certainly part of the divine dispensation to use creation to heal the human soul. To understand if the early Augustine thinks that theophanies such as Mamre and Exodus 33 actually mediate the Son’s presence to Abraham and Moses, one must turn to a work that treats these theophanies more explicitly. Interpreting christologically in Contra Adimantum Written ca. 394, the anti-Manichean treatise Contra Adimantum presents Augustine’s only claim that the Son appeared in the theophanies. As such, it provides a striking contrast to Augustine’s later works; after De Trinitate (begun ca. 399), Augustine no longer attributes a theophany to the Son, but rather he speaks of the divinitas or the triune God working and being manifested in the theophanies. Augustine’s identification of the theophanies with the Son in this early work demonstrates the initial continuity of his thought with patristic theophany exegesis, which will change as his theophany narrative interpretation becomes more developed. Thus, since Augustine actually changed an interpretation that he once held, Contra Adimantum provides evidence of why a christological reading initially appealed to him, how he agreed with his predecessors, and how he might break from this tradition by developing new aspects of theophany interpretation. Form and context here affect Augustine’s theological reflections. Contra Adimantum is an exegetical anti-Manichaean work in which Augustine critiques the Manichaean Adimantus’s rejection of the Old Testament as scripture.29 In his Disputationes, Adimantus pairs passages from the Old and New Testaments, arguing that the pairs are contradictory and therefore the Old Testament is incompatible with the gospel of Jesus Christ. For example, he opposes the Genesis creation account with the prologue to John’s gospel, arguing that the creator God of Genesis 1 is not the Word through whom the world

29

See retr. 1.21 for Augustine’s own description of the work.

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is made in John 1 (c. Adim. 1). Adimantus’s objections cover typical areas of Manichaean concern: creation, Jewish law and ritual, God’s justice, and vengeance in the scriptures. Augustine attempts to refute Adimantus in this treatise by expounding upon each of the latter’s antitheses. Thus the whole work is a type of commentary—albeit a hostile one—on Manichaean exegesis. Several sections of the work take up the question of theophanies and the vision of God in the Old Testament. Most notably, the ninth chapter discusses the appearance of the Son before his incarnation. This language of the Son’s explicit manifestation to the patriarchs is unparalleled in Augustine’s corpus, perhaps the only example where he so closely resembles the christological interpretations of Hilary and Ambrose. That this “christological” view—more precisely, this interpretation that in the Old Testament theophanies the Son was manifested—came early in Augustine’s career and was espoused in the face of Manichaean rejection of the Old Testament is telling. At this point Augustine’s primary concern is to demonstrate the continuity of the Old and New Testaments. Augustine makes his case for the Old Testament to those who accept Jesus as an authority, and therefore he proceeds by showing not only that the Old Testament is compatible with Jesus’ life and message, but that the Word is present in the Old Testament. In keeping with the polemical-doctrinal strand of exegesis, much of Augustine’s focus here is on Christ’s identity and activity. Augustine takes up the theophanies by citing Adimantus’s New Testament objection to any visible appearance of the Father in the world. Here Adimantus quotes a familiar verse in patristic theophany narrative exegesis, John 1:18: “No one has ever seen God, except the only Son, who is in the bosom of the Father; he has made him known to us” (Deum nemo vidit umquam, nisi unicus Filius, qui est in sinu Patris; ille annuntiavit nobis de eo; c. Adim. 9.1). According to Adimantus, then, the Old Testament depictions of God appearing and speaking with people are contrary to Jesus’ own testimony about God, and therefore the Old Testament cannot be accepted as revelatory of the God of Jesus Christ. It is notable that Adimantus interprets the theophanies as visions of the creator God, the one whom Catholic Christians would call Father. Augustine responds to this antithesis by stressing the Word’s mediation in the theophanies, saying: The Son himself, who is the Word of God, made the Father known to those he wished not only in latter times, when he deigned to appear in

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the flesh, but also before, from the founding of the world, whether by speaking or by appearing, either through some angelic power or through some creature.30

Therefore, in Augustine’s interpretation, the Old Testament theophanies actually harmonize with John’s claim that “No one has ever seen God,” since in them the Word spoke and appeared to the patriarchs in order to make the Father known, just as the Word ultimately makes the Father known in his incarnation (John 1:18). To be sure, Augustine qualifies his claim of the Word’s “appearance,” saying that this happened through the mediation of other creatures, either angelic or visible. Yet, his primary exegetical concern is to express the Word’s manifestation and mediation in the Old Testament. In contrast to his later writings, here he claims explicitly that the Son appeared, spoke, and was manifested; later he avoids identifying the theophanies exclusively with the Son.31 Augustine goes on to clarify his understanding of the Word’s activity in the theophanies: All things serve at his command and are subject to him, so that he might also appear through a visible creature to the eyes of those he wishes when he deigns to do so. However, he may not be seen according to his divinity, according to that which is the Word of the Father, coeternal with the Father and unchangeable, through which all things were made, except by the most pure and simple of heart.32

Thus the Word “appears” to human eyes, but only as mediated through a creature. Further, such a vision is only granted at the Word’s will and command, as he “deigns” to appear and only to people that he wishes. The mediated vision is fully in the Word’s power and will; he cannot

30 c. Adim. 9.1: Ipse Filius, quod est Verbum Dei, non solum novissimis temporibus, cum in carne apparere dignatus est, sed etiam prius a constitutione mundi, cui voluit de Patre annuntiavit, sive loquendo sive apparendo, vel per angelicam aliquam potestatem, vel per quamlibet creaturam. The Latin text is from: Sancti Aureli Augustini Opera, Sect. VI, Pars I: Contra Adimantum, ed. Joseph Zycha, CSEL 25.1 (Vienna: Tempsky, 1891). Translations are my own. 31 See, for example, Augustine’s conclusions on the theophanies in De trinitate 2.35. 32 c. Adim. 9.1: Omnia illi ad nutum serviunt, atque subiecta sunt; ut etiam oculis per visiblem creaturam cui vult, quando dignatur, appareat: cum ipse tamen secundum divinitatem suam, et secundum id quod Verbum est Patris, coaeternum Patri, et incommutabile, per quod facta sunt omnia, non nisi purgatissimo et simplicissimo corde videatur.

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be seen out of necessity, as any present visible object is accessible to the ordinary powers of human sight, but he is “seen” only as he wills to be seen. Finally, Augustine makes it clear that the Word can only be seen in his divinity by the pure of heart, implying strongly that he cannot be seen with bodily eyes. In all of these ways, Augustine’s interpretation is similar to that of Ambrose and Origen, who first and foremost stress the necessity of grace for such vision and its accessibility only to the pure of heart (see chapters two and three). Given this similarity to Ambrose’s interpretation, perhaps it is congruous that Augustine’s interpretation in Contra Adimantum also views the theophanies as appearances of the Word. Like Ambrose, Augustine wishes to maintain the equality of the divine persons, emphasizing the coeternity and unchanging nature of the Son. Yet he, like Ambrose, makes the distinction that the God who appears and speaks in the Old Testament is the Word of the Father, and nowhere does he say explicitly that the Father could also be represented visibly, as he does a few years later in writing De Trinitate.33 It would seem, then, that in this relatively early work Augustine maintains Ambrose’s emphasis on the appearance, sight, and manifestation of the Word.34 In all of these passages, the Word is the one who reveals the Father, and it is proper for him to mediate divine presence in the world, even as he himself is mediated through an angelic or visible creature. Yet, Augustine, like Ambrose, carefully nuances his expression of the Word’s proper mediation. For both theologians, the Word is God, equal to the Father and united with him and the Holy Spirit in all divine works. Therefore, Augustine speaks of “God” appearing, even as in the immediate surrounding context he refers to the Word’s manifestation.35 He also compares the theophanies to prophetic oracles in the scriptures, emphasizing that the visible appearances and the prophetic words can be attributed both to the person of God, from whom

33

Trin. 2.33. c. Adim. 9.2: Quapropter si non est mirandum quod Verbum Dei, id est, unicus Filius Dei, qui de Patre annuntiat, cui vult per se ipsum, cui vult per aliquam creaturam manifestatur vel sonando, vel apparendo, cum tamen ipse per se ipsum mundo corde videatur, et per illum Pater: Beati enim mundicordes, quia ipsi Deum videbunt, non est mirandum, ex utroque Testamento ista omnia testimonia consonare. 35 This use of deus is much more personally specific than his use of divinitas and deus in later works, in which he speaks much more generally of the divinity represented in the theophanies. 34

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they originate, or to the person of the creature—angelic, human, or simply visible—who mediates the divine expression. He writes, In certain passages scripture itself testifies that an angel was seen, where it says God was seen. So in that struggle with Jacob, the one who appeared was also called an angel. And when he appeared in the bush to Moses; and again in the desert, when he then led the people out of the land of Egypt at the time that he received the law, God spoke to him. But in the Acts of the Apostles Stephen says that an angel appeared to him both in the bush, when God sent him; and later, when God gave him the law (Acts 7.30ff). We say this for the following reason, lest anyone think that the Word of God through whom all things were made can be limited by space and appear visibly to anyone, unless through a visible creature. For as the Word of God is in the prophet, it is said correctly “The prophet said” and also “The Lord said,” because the Word of God, who is Christ, speaks truth in the prophet. In this way also he himself speaks in the angel when the angel announces truth, and correctly it is said “God said” and also “God appeared”; and yet the scriptures are also correct in saying “the angel said” and “the angel appeared,” since one thing is said regarding the person of God who dwells in the creature, and the other is said about the person of the creature who is serving God.36

Several things are significant in this rich passage. First, Augustine’s theological assumptions about God the Father clearly differ from those of Justin and Novatian, who based their christological reading on the appropriateness of the Son’s visible, spatial, and earthly manifestations. For the earlier exegetes, it was the Father, not the Word, who could not be “limited by space and appear visibly to anyone.” That Augustine attributes to the Word the same qualities of invisibility and infiniteness as Justin and Novatian attribute to the Father demonstrates the difference of his trinitarian theological framework, which in turn will

36 c. Adim. 9.1: Et ideo quibusdam locis etiam Scriptura ipsa testatur angelum visum, ubi dicit Deum visum. Sicut in illa luctatione Iacob, et angelus dictus est ille qui apparuit. Et cum apparuit in rubo Moysi; et item in eremo, cum iam eduxisset populum de terra Aegypti, quando legem accepit, Deus ei locutus est. Sed sive in rubo, cum eum misit; sive postea, cum ei legem dedit, angelum dicit Stephanus in Actibus Apostolorum ei apparuisse. Quod ideo dicimus, ne quis arbitretur Verbum Dei, per quod facta sunt omnia, quasi per locos posse definiri, et alicui visibiliter apparere, nisi per aliquam visibilem creaturam. Sicut enim Verbum Dei est in propheta, et recte dicitur: Dixit Propheta, recte item dicitur: Dixit Dominus; quia Verbum Dei, quod est Christus, in propheta loquitur veritatem: sic et in angelo ipse loquitur, quando veritatem angelus annuntiat; et recte dicitur: Deus dixit; et: Deus apparuit; et item dicitur recte: Angelus dixit, et: Angelus apparuit; cum illud dicatur ex persona inhabitantis Dei, illud ex persona servientis creaturae.

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make it much more difficult for him to associate the theophanies with the Son. More simply, it is harder for Augustine to see theophanies as proper to the Son alone, given his ideas about the exact likeness of Son and Father in their divinity. Second, Augustine uses “Word” and “God” interchangeably for the subject who is mediated through the angel or the prophet; typically he identifies the Word, the Son, or Christ as the one who speaks and appears, but on occasion he calls this subject “God” without qualification. This sets Augustine apart from his Manichaean opponents, precisely because he is arguing against their claims that the God of Jesus Christ is not the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and Moses. Further, Augustine clearly does not use the angel christology that so pervades the polemical-doctrinal strand. He recognizes, as do Hilary and others, that the subject of a theophany is often described in multiple terms, typically angel and Lord and God. However, unlike Hilary, Augustine locates this multiplicity in God’s ability to inhabit a creature, not in Christ’s functional identity as the “angel of great counsel.” Although Augustine stresses the Word’s role in the theophanies, he does not connect this role with the Son’s identity as mediator. Already Augustine balances more than Hilary the Word’s activity with his divine co-equality, primarily by not developing an angel christology when interpreting the explicit descriptions of angelic mediation in the theophanies. Thus, while Hilary sees the angel and Lord and God in the theophany as one subject, that of Christ who as “angel” announces the Father, Augustine sees two subjects: both an angel (by nature) and Christ, who as God makes the Father known by dwelling in the creature.37 Finally, Augustine’s use of inhabitantis here suggests that his understanding of God’s presence in the theophanies is real, not merely symbolized by the creature used in the theophany. Thus far he has balanced his usage of apparere, videri, and manifestare with the qualification that the Word can only appear and be seen if mediated by a visible creature. His suggestion that two personal realities—created and divine—are encountered in the theophanies and in prophetic speech indicates perhaps why the language of apparere and manifes37

See also ex. Gal. 24.15–17, in which Augustine writes that the dispensation of the Old Testament was administered by angels, through whom the Holy Spirit and the Word were active. These angels “sometimes represented themselves, and sometimes represented God” (aliquando suam, aliquando dei personam agerent).

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tare is appropriate to his thought in this work. He understands God to be dwelling in the angel or the creature that is perceived visibly or aurally, which appears and is manifested. While the Word is not seen in himself, Augustine can claim that the Word is seen as present in the mediating creature. His use of apparere, then, relates to the Word as present in the theophany, not as visible in se. How, then, did the patriarchs and matriarchs see God? Augustine also distinguishes different types of vision in Contra Adimantum, something essential for relating the theophanies to spiritual experience and for developing the themes of the spiritual strand. At the end of the work, Augustine considers Adimantus’s opposition of the vision of Isaiah, in which Isaiah sees the Lord of hosts sitting upon a throne (Isaiah 6), with Paul’s claim that God is invisible (1 Timothy 1:17, Regi autem saeculorum invisibili, incorruptibili, soli Deo honor et gloria in saecula saeculorum; c. Adim. 28.1). This comparison between a prophetic vision of God and a claim about God’s nature allows Augustine to discuss different types of vision of God, thereby establishing that these scriptures are complementary since they refer to different things. Augustine gives three types of vision: (1) bodily vision, in which physical objects are seen with bodily eyes, (2) imaginary vision, in which one sees images of things that can be sensed through the body, as in a dream, and (3) mental vision, in which invisible realities like truth and wisdom are “seen” with the gaze of the mind.38 The three types are interrelated; certainly the second type presupposes the first type, that one may imagine things based upon one’s knowledge gained through sense perception, as dreams are drawn from one’s sensory experience. But perhaps more theologically significant is the reliance of the first two types upon the third. As Augustine explains, the third type of vision is the perception of invisible realities like truth and wisdom. The grasp of these realities is what allows one to understand the physical realities perceived in bodily or imaginary vision. He writes, “Without

38 c. Adim. 28.2: Nam multa genera visionis in Scripturis sanctis inveniuntur. Unum, secundum oculos corporis. . . . Alterum, secundum quod imaginamur ea quae per corpus sentimus: nam et pars ipsa nostra cum divinitus assumitur multa revelantur, non per oculos corporis, aut aures, aliumve sensum carnalem; sed tamen his similia. . . . Tertium autem genus visionis est secundum mentis intuitum, quo intellecta conspiciuntur veritas atque sapientia. Note that I have given these titles to the different types; they are not Augustine’s. However, I have tried to reflect his own words, which use oculos corporis for the first, imaginamur for the second, and mentis intuitum for the third.

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this third type, the two that I described earlier are either unfruitful or even lead people into error” (c. Adim. 28.2: sine quo genere illa duo quae prius posui, vel infructuosa sunt, vel etiam in errorem mittunt). By using these three types and also relating them to each other, Augustine articulates how one should understand that God is “seen” in different scriptural passages. Augustine considers certain visions of God in the Bible under the type of bodily vision, such as the theophanies to Abraham at Mamre and to Moses at the burning bush. Augustine considers that Abraham’s vision, properly speaking, consisted of seeing three men, and Moses’ of seeing the fire in the bush, just as the disciples saw Christ transfigured on the mountain.39 He does not expand further on the significance of these visions or the means by which they occurred—surely, such sights as Christ transfigured involve an extraordinary encounter with the divine and encompass much more than bodily vision of a physical phenomenon. Instead, Augustine here briefly focuses only upon the physical vision involved in the theophanies. The second type of vision, in which the person sees images of bodily things but not the things themselves, largely concerns prophetic visions and dreams. Here Augustine considers Peter’s vision of a sheet (discus) descending from heaven, filled with various animals (Acts 10:10– 16) and Isaiah’s vision of the Lord of hosts on the throne (Isaiah 6). Augustine takes the two examples as visions of images rather than of the bodily things themselves. Additionally, they are figurative visions, especially the vision of Isaiah, and therefore their value lies not in representing God exactly but symbolically or metaphorically. Augustine reasons, “for a bodily form does not circumscribe God: but just as many things are said of God figuratively, not properly; so also many things show God figuratively.”40 Here Augustine introduces the interpretation of scriptural visions, and not only the words of scripture, as figures. More specifically, he stresses the appropriateness of representing God physically through visible figures. While here he only discusses prophetic visions, this has consequences for the theophanies as well. Indeed, the first two types of

39 c. Adim. 28.2: Vidit Abraham tres viros sub ilice Mambre, et Moyses fignem in rubo, et discipuli trnasfiguratum Dominum in monthe inter Moysen et Eliam: et caetera huiusmodi. 40 c. Adim. 28.2: Non enim Deum forma corporea circumterminat: sed quemadmodum figurate, non proprie, multa dicuntur; ita etiam figurate multa monstrantur.

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vision are similar, differing only in whether an actual corporeal thing or its image is seen. Both types are corporeal in nature, and both types depend upon the third, “higher” type of vision for their meaning. By emphasizing that such visions are figurative representations of God and do not manifest God’s substance, Augustine both resolves the tension between God’s invisible nature and the visible manifestations of the Son in scripture, and he illuminates how such physical phenomena have value for spiritual vision. For Augustine, the link between invisible realities and visible things is articulated in Romans 1:20, “For from the establishment of the world, the invisible things of God are understood and seen (conspiciuntur) through the things that were made.”41 This verse allows Augustine to link knowledge of visible and invisible things, as well as physical sight and intellectual apprehension. In Augustine’s epistemology, visible things indicate and aid in the perception and comprehension of what is invisible. For example, the vision of Isaiah indicates God’s majesty and awe-inspiring nature, even if God is not a corporeal being who sits upon a throne. Yet, the understanding of invisible, intelligible realities is also needed to make sense of corporeal vision; Nebuchadnezzar saw a hand writing on the wall, but he could not understand the vision without Daniel’s interpretation (Daniel 5, cited in c. Adim. 28.2). Therefore, the scriptural visions contain figurative representations of God, but they are only revelatory if one can understand the figures.42 Thus, in this section Augustine develops ideas that support his early theophany interpretation, although his explicit attention to the theophanies of Mamre and Exodus 3 is brief. First, they involve corporeal vision: Abraham really saw three men, and Moses saw a burning bush. In the theophanies the Son inhabits a visible creature, and therefore the divinity itself does not become visible. Secondly, the theophanies are capable of figuratively demonstrating God, just as ecstatic visions in the scriptures represent God through visible images of bodily things. This figurative representation is similar to the verbal figures used in scripture. Finally, true perception of the theophanies, and certainly true revelation through them, requires not only physical sight of the

41 c. Adim. 28.1: Invisibilia enim Dei, a constitutione mundi, per ea quae facta sunt, intellecta conspiciuntur. 42 c. Adim. 28.2: Cum enim ea, quae sive corporeis sensibus, sive illi parti animae quae corporalium rerum imagines capit, divinitus demonstrantur, non solum sentiuntur his modis, sed etiam mente intelliguntur, tunc est perfecta revelatio.

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phenomena but also spiritual and intellectual comprehension. In other words, for Abraham and Moses to see God truly requires not only physical vision, but also an intellectual grasp of what they perceived with their eyes. Conclusion Augustine’s early understanding of the incarnation and of the role of visible things in faith establishes important points of continuity and contrast with Augustine’s later writings, which in turn illuminate how and why he changes his theophany interpretation. In De vera religione, Augustine articulates an understanding of spiritual ascent in which faith in God’s temporal dispensation enables the believer to rise up to the understanding of divine, eternal truth. As such, the incarnate Christ plays a central role in inspiring faith and in teaching how to live and believe. This, in turn, purifies believers and allows them to grow in their apprehension of intellectual realities. In this schema, then, the critical beginning stages involve the correct use of creation and created signs to become less bound by the desire for bodily things. Here the theophanies are one means among the whole Christian dispensation to correct one’s misuse of creation and images. This illustrates a didactic christology, in which Christ is a teacher and an example for imitation, consonant with a disjunctive sign theory in which signs indicate or point toward something else. The theophanies serve as one type of temporal medicine among many, teaching the soul to direct its attention from visible things to the transcendent God. In many ways, this emphasis on the proper use of created things in spiritual ascent will remain throughout Augustine’s writings. Yet, as his christology develops in the mid-390s and beyond, emphasizing how Christ mediates salvation in his very being, so too Augustine increasingly values encountering God in and through tangible, finite, or sensible means, such as incarnation, scripture, and church. In this developing framework, then, the theophanies will take on greater nuance in relation to spiritual vision. In Contra Adimantum, Augustine offers an early and unique reading of the theophanies in which the Son appears through created forms, showing clear continuity with previous exegetical traditions but also hinting at potential changes. As Augustine’s only interpretation to identify the theophanies exclusively with the Son, it provides a strik-

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ing contrast to his later writings. Coming from a polemical, anti-Manichean context, it is perhaps not surprising that Augustine retains the christological reading to support his argument about the continuity of Old Testament revelation and Christ. Yet, even as at the outset of his theological writings Augustine assumes, with his predecessors, that the Son was manifested in the theophanies, he provides evidence of some noticeable differences, foreshadowing the theological and exegetical changes to come. Unlike Hilary and similar exegetes, Augustine offers an interpretation in which the “angel” of the theophanies is contrasted, rather than identified with, the God who also is “seen” in the events. That Augustine understands two distinct subjects in the theophanies, the creature seen and God dwelling in the creature, is a significant development, and it allows him to affirm how God is both perceived and not seen in the theophanies. He further considers Abraham’s vision of the three visitors as merely bodily vision; to see God more truly requires “mental” vision in which the mind directly apprehends God’s invisible reality. Thus Augustine moves toward an understanding of the theophanies that involves multiple types of vision and multiple subjects, showing the increasing complexity of his reading. In addition, Augustine’s christology, building on Ambrose and Hilary, can no longer support a reading in which the Word alone has characteristics proper to visible manifestation. As God, the Word shares fully in divine qualities of invisibility and infiniteness. Together, De vera religione and Contra Adimantum provide the main theological contours of Augustine’s theophany interpretation in his early writings (ca. 388–396). Indeed, that so few works from this period, consisting in no small part of anti-Manichaean treatises, include consideration of the biblical theophanies is a telling omission. Michael Cameron’s thesis—that Augustine’s sign theory changed in light of his developing theology of the incarnation and operative grace in the mid390s—perhaps explains the increasing attention given to theophanies by the writing of Augustine’s middle and later works (397 onward). That is, perhaps Augustine’s developing conjunctive understanding of signs, in which a sign does not merely indicate a separate reality but is joined to that reality and encountered together with it—increased his appreciation for the theophany narratives. Thus, Augustine could read in the stories both the signification of God under bodily form, rather than a vision of the divinity itself, and an encounter with the divine presence.

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Yet, what remains is the theological framework for such an interpretation. If the theophanies are not manifestations of Christ, who primarily indicates the way of salvation as a teacher and a model to imitate, but saving signs of God, how is this God active and revealed in the theophany? How does the theophany relate to spiritual vision of this God? These questions remain for Augustine’s mature theophany exegesis, found in De Trinitate and his later works.

CHAPTER FIVE

AUGUSTINE’S EXEGETICAL SHIFT IN DE TRINITATE Frequently in Augustine’s exegesis, he invites the reader to seek God with him and consider many different interpretations, as long as they honor sound doctrine and build up charity (Trin. 1.5, 1.31; doc. Chr. 1.41). This hermeneutical openness to polyvalence and to an ongoing process of discovery highlights Augustine’s innovative approach to exegetical tradition. As these traditions develop in the patristic period—growing, shifting, or diminishing in changing contexts— Augustine both turns to previous interpreters for guidance and alters aspects of their interpretations. Yet, his respect for tradition leads him to challenge certain forms of exegesis subtly rather than overtly, perhaps by suggesting new alternative interpretations or cautioning against exceeding what the texts warrant. In this way, Augustine challenges the literal christological reading in subtle yet substantial ways while also developing other aspects of early Christian theophany exegesis, establishing to his readers how they might consider exegetical tradition creatively. Augustine’s early theophany interpretation in Contra Adimantum (ca. 394) reflects his continuity with exegetical traditions, as well as his early thought on the relation of sense perception to spiritual vision. However, he changes this interpretation only a few years later in De Trinitate (begun ca. 399), questioning the standard patristic view that Christ appeared to the patriarchs in the theophanies. Further, all of his writings post-400 maintain the interpretation he offers in De Trinitate, in some cases asserting more boldly the view that Christ did not appear in the theophanies. What prompted this change, and why did Augustine turn to the theophanies in a work on the Trinity, if not for seeing in the theophanies proof of the Son’s identity, as his predecessors did? Finally, what might this change indicate about Augustine’s developing theology? By looking to the context of De Trinitate, it becomes clear that both strands of patristic exegesis of the theophany narratives—the polemical-doctrinal and the spiritual strands—inform Augustine’s interpretation. However, they do so in different ways. Augustine, writing in his

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own polemical context against Homoian christology, resists the traditional reading that the Son appeared in the theophanies precisely as he asserts the Son’s divinity and equality. This represents a genuine break from tradition, all the more notable for occurring in a polemical context similar to that of Novatian and Hilary, who read the theophanies as manifestations of the Son. Yet, while Augustine questions the exegetical features of the polemical-doctrinal strand, he develops aspects of the spiritual strand, focusing on the implications of the theophany narrative for spiritual growth. By emphasizing the inseparable work of the Trinity and an incarnational spirituality, Augustine both destabilizes the christological identification of his predecessors and maintains continuity with other aspects of their exegesis. In this way, he creatively appropriates exegetical tradition while advocating a genuinely new reading. Context and purpose of De Trinitate To understand why Augustine changes his theophany interpretation, it is useful to examine first the context of De Trinitate: when and why he wrote the treatise, his goals for the work, for whom and against whom he wrote, and why he gave the theophanies such a prominent place in the work. In all of his writings, Augustine’s fullest and most sustained interpretation of the theophanies is found in De Trinitate, with its extensive discussion of the Old Testament missions and their relation to the incarnation in Books Two through Four. Augustine began this work ca. 399/400, but he left the project and did not finish until the 420s.1 The most relevant books for this study, Books Two through Four, likely were written around 399, with Augustine adding the prologues to each of the books at a later date.2 This places the beginning

1 On the dating of different sections of De Trinitate, see Anne-Marie La Bonnardière, “La phase terminale de la rédaction du ‘De Trinitate’,” in Recherches de chronologie augustinienne (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1965), 165–177; Irénée Chevalier, S. Augustin et la Pensée Grecque: Les Relations Trinitaires, Collectanea Friburgensia (Fribourg: Librairie de l’Université, 1940), 15–28; Eugene TeSelle, Augustine the Theologian (London: Burns and Oates, 1970), 223–230. 2 See Augustine’s preface to the work: De trinitate quae deus summus et verus est libros iuvenis inchoavi, senex edidi. Omiseram quippe hoc opus posteaquam comperi praereptos mihi esse sive subreptos antequam eos absolverem at retractatos ut mea dispositio fuerat expolirem. . . . Sunt autem qui primos quattuor vel potius quinque etiam sine prooemiis habent et duodecimum sine extrema parte non parva. The Latin text is

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composition of De Trinitate shortly after Contra Adimantum, during what is arguably one of the most theologically significant periods of his life. Following theological developments based upon new readings of Paul and a revised understanding of grace in Christ,3 Augustine begins one of his most ambitious and challenging works, a sustained reflection on the triune God as known through scripture, doctrine, and interior contemplation. As is well-studied,4 the history of trinitarian theology has long looked to De Trinitate for Augustine’s discussion of doctrinal language (Books 5–7), his revision of Aristotle’s category of relation (Book 5), and his inventive reflection upon trinities in the human person (Books 9–15) in this monumental work. Yet, equal to these contributions are Augustine’s opening exegetical reflections in Books One through Four as the foundation of his trinitarian theology, demonstrating how much the scriptures shape his understanding of the triune God.5 In Book One

from: Augustine, Opera, Pars XVI, I–II: De Trinitate Libri XV, ed. W. J. Mountain, CCSL 50–50A (Turnhout: Brepols, 1968). La Bonnardière sees Trin. 2.13–35, 3.4–27, 4.2–32 as a unit that is generally coherent, articulating a basic plan of inquiry (Recherches, 172). These sections likely are from the oldest portion of the work; 2.1–12 was probably added later, while Book 1 is difficult to date. Of it TeSelle says, “We must be cautious, furthermore, in approaching book I, a collection of biblical testimonies and rules for their interpretation. Although most of the materials could well belong to the first draft of the work, the book as a whole appears to have been throroughly rewritten” (Augustine the Theologian, 224). Michel Barnes, however, writes of Book 1 that it “is regarded as the earliest stratum of that work by virtually everyone” (“Exegesis and Polemic in Augustine’s De Trinitate I,” Augustinian Studies 30:1 [1999], 43–44). In this study I consider the main ideas of Book 1 to be foundational to the considerations of Books 2–4, and therefore I treat it first, although its final form was probably composed after Books 2–4. 3 See J. Patout Burns, The Development of Augustine’s Doctrine of Operative Grace (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1980); William S. Babcock, “Augustine’s Interpretation of Romans (AD 394–396),” Augustinian Studies 10 (1979) 55–74; Paula Fredriksen, “Augustine’s Early Interpretation of Paul” (Ph.D. diss., Princeton University, 1979). 4 See Alfred Schindler, Wort und Analogie in Augustins Trinitätslehre. (Tübingen: Mohr, 1965); Michael Schmaus, Die psychologische Trinitätslehre des heiligen Augustinus (Münster: Aschendorff, 1967); Aloys Grillmeier, Christ in Christian Tradition, vol. 1, trans. John Bowden (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1975), 408–409; Théodore de Régnon, Études de Théologie Positive sur la Saint Trinité, 2 vols. (Paris: Victor Retaux et Fils, 1892); Olivier Du Roy, L’Intelligence de la Foi en la Trinité selon Saint Augustin (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1966), 436–449; Catherine LaCugna, God for Us (San Francisco: HarperSanFranscisco, 1991), 81–109; Michel René Barnes, “Rereading Augustine’s Theology of the Trinity,” in The Trinity: An Interdisciplinary Symposium on the Trinity, ed. Stephen T. Davis, Daniel Kendall, S.J., and Gerald O’Collins, S.J. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 145–176. 5 In an insightful article, Khaled Anatolios argues that the epistemological framework of Book 1 forms the structure of De Trinitate through its use of oppositional

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Augustine offers several reasons for writing the treatise, including giving an account of how the Father, Son, and Spirit are “of one and the same substance or essence”—a pro-Nicene defense of homoousious— and facilitating the spiritual purification of the mind so that one might gaze upon “that supreme goodness” (Trin. 1.4). In other words, he engages both doctrinal and spiritual goals, emphasizing that scripture must be the starting point in determining the authentic character of faith in the triune God.6 Thus, the interpretation of scripture, particularly its evidence for the distinctive missions of the Son and the Spirit, form the basis of Augustine’s theological exploration. In his exegesis, Augustine cites the work of “Catholic commentators” who wrote on the Trinity, very likely including Hilary and Ambrose, along with other late fourth-century pro-Nicene Latin authors.7 The theophanies potentially provide evidence of the activity of the Son and Spirit in the world, given the tendency of previous patristic authors to read the theophanies christologically. Therefore Augustine turns to them first pairs, such as faith and sight, whose difference is overcome by Christ’s mediation in the unity of his person. For example, while we cannot have direct unmediated knowledge (sight) of God in this world, God provides concrete knowledge (faith) through Christ, who bridges the “ontological abyss” between Creator and creature. See Anatolios, “Oppositional Pairs and Christological Synthesis: Rereading Augustine’s De Trinitate,” Theological Studies 68 (2007): 231–253. 6 Trin. 1.4. Unless otherwise noted, English quotations are from The Trinity, trans. Edmund Hill, O.P., The Works of Saint Augustine 1.5 (Brooklyn, N.Y.: New City Press, 1991). Emphasis added. The Latin text reads: Suscipiemus et eam ipsam quam flagitant, quantum possumus, reddere rationem, quod trinitas sit unus et solus et verus deus, et quam recte pater et filius et spiritus sanctus unius eiusdemque substantiae vel essentiae dicatur, credatur, intellegatur; ut non quasi nostris excusationibus inludantur sed reipsa experiantur et esse illud summum bonum quod purgatissimis mentibus cernitur, et a se propterea cerni comprehendique non posse quia mentis humanae acies invalida in tam excellenti luce non figitur nisi per iustitiam fidei nutrita vegetetur. Sed primum secundum auctoritatem scripturarum sanctarum utrum ita se fides habeat demonstrandum est. 7 Lewis Ayres argues that Augustine knew well the theology of Ambrose and Hilary, along with Eusebius of Vercelli, Phoebadius of Agen, Gregory of Elvira, and Rufinus; see his article “ ‘Remember That You Are Catholic’ (serm. 52.2): Augustine on the Unity of the Triune God,” Journal of Early Christian Studies 8:1 (2000): 47. Cf. Trin. 1.7: Omnes quos legere potui qui ante me scripserunt de trinitate quae deus est, divinorum librorum veterum et novorum catholici tractatores, hoc intenderunt secundum scripturas docere, quod pater et filius et spiritus sanctus unius substantiae inseparabili aequalitate divinam insinuent unitatem, ideoque non sint tres dii sed unus deus. TeSelle also cites Augustine’s familiarity with Tertullian’s Adversus Praxean (Augustine the Theologian, 227). For more on Augustine’s use of Greek sources as well as Hilary and Ambrose, see Jean-Louis Maier, Les missions divines selon saint Augustin, Paradosis: Etudes de littérature et de théologie anciennes 16 (Fribourg: Éditions Universitaires Fribourg Suisse, 1960), chapters 2 and 3.

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in his exploration of biblical evidence of the Trinity, after establishing a framework for interpreting the scriptures in Book One. Yet, given the purpose of De Trinitate, who is Augustine’s audience? While he clearly is concerned for the spiritual purification and growth of his readers, he also targets the views of his opponents, engaging in polemic with those who subordinate the Son to the Father.8 Although traditional scholarship has maintained that De Trinitate was a nonpolemical work, attending to the polemical aspects of De Trinitate further illuminates how and why Augustine turned to the theophanies and rejected the literal christological reading.9 Homoian polemic Recent scholarship has demonstrated how in De Trinitate Augustine engages in anti-Homoian and anti-Platonic critique, even as his tone for much of the work remains inviting and irenic.10 In particular, the anti-Homoian polemic in Books One through Four of De Trinitate reveals how christological doctrine—namely, the Son’s equality and unity with the Father—is central to Augustine’s project. In his doctrinal critique, Augustine turns to the theophanies not for proof of the

8 For example, see Trin. 1.1–3, 1.9–13, 2.14–16, 2.20, and 2.27, all of which deal with visibility or subordination. In Trin. 2.25 Augustine associates “Arians” with the belief that the Son was visibly manifested in the theophanies. 9 Anatolios, “Oppositional Pairs and Christological Synthesis,” 248–249. 10 On Augustine’s anti-Platonic argument in De Trinitate, see John Cavadini, “The Structure and Intention of De Trinitate,” Augustinian Studies 23 (1992): 103–123. On the anti-Homoian polemic in De Trinitate, see three articles by Michel René Barnes: “Exegesis and Polemic in Augustine’s De Trinitate I,” Augustinian Studies 30:1 (1999): 43–59; “The Visible Christ and the Invisible Trinity: Mt. 5:8 in Augustine’s Trinitarian Theology of 400,” Modern Theology 19:3 (2003): 329–355; “The Arians of Book V, and the Genre of De Trinitate,” Journal of Theological Studies 44 (1993): 185–95. In the 1993 article Barnes critiques the claims of Théodore de Régnon, S.J., in Études de Théologie Positive sur la Sainte Trinité, 4 vols. (Paris: Victor Retaux et Fils, 1892). De Régnon argues (vol. 1, pp. 252–257) that while anti-Sabellian polemic identified the theophanies with the Son in an effort to distinguish the Son from the Father, anti-Arian polemicists tend to attribute the theophanies to God, without distinction of persons. In particular, he cites Augustine’s Contra Maximinum, and claims that Augustine’s trinitarian exegesis was inspired by the “Antiochene school,” notably Gregory of Nyssa, Didymus, and Epiphanius. Barnes argues vigorously for the polemical context of De Trinitate, against common scholarly presuppositions that the work held a certain “literary distance” from the Arian controversy. He argues convincingly against the identification of the “Arians” in Augustine’s descriptions as Eunomians, instead situating Augustine’s arguments vis-à-vis second-generation Latin Homoian theology.

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Son’s distinctive existence, as his predecessors did, but to argue for equality and inseparability of the Trinity. Homoians believed that the Son was like (Greek: homoi) but not identical to the Father. Therefore, they rejected the claim promoted at the 325 Council of Nicea that the Son was homoousios, or of the same substance, as the Father. Emerging in doctrinal controversies during the 350s, the Homoians won victories at the twin councils of Ariminum and Seleucia in 359, which were affirmed by the 360 Creed of Nice.11 Homoians rejected ousia language—used by those who claimed the Son is of the same substance (homoousios) as the Father, as well as those who claimed the Son is of like substance (homoiousios) or of a different substance (heteroousios)—because the term was not biblical and sounded modalist, implying no real distinction between Father and Son.12 While their influence diminished throughout the empire in the 360s, Homoians maintained influence in some areas of the West, particularly in north Italy, into the 380s.13 In Milan the pro-Nicene bishop Ambrose faced opposition from Homoian critics including the rival Homoian bishop Auxentius, the court, and the pro-Homoian Justina, mother of the young emperor Valentinian II. The Homoians mobilized an attempt to regain control of a basilica in Milan in 385–386 but failed.14 Very likely Augustine encountered the Homoians during the theological and ecclesiastical conflict in Milan in the mid-380s, and he also learned of their positions through the

11

Lewis Ayres, Nicaea and Its Legacy: An Approach to Fourth-Century Trinitarian Theology (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), 138–139; Mark Weedman, “Hilary and the Homoiousians: Using New Categories to Map the Trinitarian Controversy,” Church History 76:3 (2007): 495. 12 As Michel Barnes points out, the term homoouios was used in the 3rd century by modalists and by conciliar condemnations of modalism. He argues that in the decades between 325 Nicea and 381 Constantinople, the term remained controversial. It only became normative when it was interpreted and promoted in a way that ruled out modalism. See “The Fourth Century as Trinitarian Canon,” in Christian Origins: Theology, Rhetoric, and Community, ed. Lewis Ayres and Gareth Jones (London: Routledge, 1998), 49, 62. 13 In Ambrose of Milan and the End of the Nicene-Arian Conflicts (Oxford: Clarendon, 1995), Daniel H. Williams argues against the traditional view that Nicene orthodoxy “vanquished” Arianism after the death of Constantius II in 361. Instead he argues that strong centers of Homoianism persisted in Illyricum and north Italy, particularly in Milan, such that “Homoianism may have become increasingly isolated, but it was not dying” (102). 14 Daniel H. Williams, “Polemics and Politics in Ambrose of Milan’s ‘De Fide,’” Journal of Theological Studies 46:2 (1995): 519–531; see also chapters 4–7 in Williams, Ambrose of Milan.

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pro-Nicene writings of Hilary and Ambrose as well as his catechesis in Milan under Ambrose’s leadership.15 For the second-generation Homoians of Augustine’s time, the Son’s difference from the Father—and therefore his ability to mediate between God and creation—was evident in his visibility in the world, not only in the incarnation but also in the Old Testament theophanies.16 The Son’s visibility and materiality, in contrast to the Father’s invisibility and impassibility, show his inferiority to the Father not merely in his office (cf. Hilary) but in himself. Therefore, the theophanies became for Homoians a key symbol of the subordinate status of the Son.17 Their interpretation in many ways fits the pattern established by traditional Latin and Greek theophany interpretation more than Augustine’s in De Trinitate, where he resists attributing the theophanies to the Son alone.18 At issue for both the Homoians and Augustine is the distinction between Creator and creature: if God is infinite and unchanging, how do temporal, embodied creatures cross the “ontological abyss” and come to know God?19 For both, the answer lies in the mediation of Christ, but in very different ways. If the Homoians identify the mediation of Christ with his visibility and inferiority, Augustine insists on the unity and reintegration that Christ offers through uniting God and creation in himself.20 Essential to this mediation is Christ’s equality to the Father and the inseparable work of the Trinity, both hallmarks of pro-Nicene doctrine in the late fourth century.21 Simply, for Christ to unite humanity to God in himself, he has to be truly human and divine, equal to the Father and united with Father and Holy Spirit, one God.

15

Ayres, “Remember That You Are Catholic,” 47. Barnes, “Exegesis and Polemic,” 48. 17 For example, see Fragments of Palladius 106, in Scolies Ariennes sur le Concile d’Aquilée, ed. Roger Gryson (Paris: Les Éditions du Cerf, 1980). The Homoian Palladius connects the Son’s visibility to the appearance of God to Abraham at Mamre. 18 Barnes, “The Visible Christ and the Invisible Trinity,” 341. He notes that the pro-Nicene theologians found the theophanies difficult “not simply because there were spokesmen articulating a problematic, subordinationist doctrine of the theophanies, but because such subordinationist interpretations of the theophanies were traditional.” 19 Anatolios, “Oppositional Pairs and Christological Synthesis,” 242–243. 20 Trin. 1.14, 4.3–4, 4.12; Anatolios, “Oppositional Pairs and Christological Synthesis,” 244. 21 Ayres, “Remember That You Are Catholic,” 40. 16

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Augustine’s response to the Homoians therefore emphasizes the Son’s equality with the Father and the difference between the incarnation and the Old Testament theophanies.22 Whereas in the antiManichean context of Contra Adimantum, Augustine’s purpose was to show the continuity of the Old Testament and Christ, in the antiHomoian context of De Trinitate Augustine contrasts the incarnation—that Christ became truly human, suffered, and died—with the Old Testament “demonstrations” of God (Trin. 3.27). This disrupts the traditional identification of the Son with the theophanies, and it allows Augustine to reconceive of how the theophanies bear likeness to the Son’s proper mission to become incarnate. Simply, the theophanies are not instances of the Son being sent into the world (i.e., his proper mission), but they are likenesses of the incarnation because they demonstrate how God uses creation to reveal God’s salvific intent (Trin. 4.2) in a manner befitting human epistemology. In his argument against the Homoians, the theophanies do not reveal the Son’s inferiority, but they show both continuity and discontinuity with the Son’s incarnation. Given this anti-Homoian context, how does Augustine reinterpret the theophanies? First, he establishes the role of exegesis in purifying the mind of errors, setting up a correspondence between signs of God in creation and signs of God in scripture. In considering these two kinds of signs, Augustine understands the theophanies—and by extension, revelation in general—as a work of the Trinity indicating an incarnational spirituality. Scripture, creation, and exegesis Augustine frames the opening of De Trinitate with a warning against theological errors based on relying too much or too little on knowledge gained through sense perception. This framing, in turn, underlies his epistemological vision of how good exegesis aids the interpretation of sensory knowledge. Augustine specifically criticizes those who “scorn the starting-point of faith,” namely, the scriptures, and are “deceived through an immature and perverse love of reason.”23 Such people err in their understanding of God, Augustine says, in three ways:

22

Anatolios, “Oppositional Pairs and Christological Synthesis,” 245. Trin. 1.1: Fidei contemnentes initium immaturo et perverso rationis amore falluntur. 23

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Some of them try to transfer what they have observed about bodily things to incorporeal and spiritual things, which they would measure by the standard of what they experience through the senses of the body or learn by natural human intelligence, lively application, and technical skill. There are others whose concept of God, such as it is, ascribes to him the nature and moods of the human spirit, a mistake which ties their arguments about God to distorted and misleading rules of interpretation. Again, there is another type; people who indeed strive to climb above the created universe, so ineluctably subject to change, and raise their regard to the unchanging substance which is God. But so top-heavy are they with the load of their mortality, that what they do not know they wish to give the impression of knowing, and what they wish to know they cannot; and so they block their own presumptuous opinions, and then rather than change a misconceived opinion they have defended, they prefer to leave it uncorrected.24

So the first two types of error that Augustine addresses involve understanding God’s nature in terms drawn from the experience of created, mutable things, namely, the body and the human spirit with its emotions and passions. The third type of error tries to do the opposite: leave behind ideas gained through sensory experience of creation, focusing on what is immutable and intellectual. These errors correspond to Augustine’s epistemology, in which one advances from sense perception to reflection on this perception, and ultimately to reflection on the inner self and grasp of the purely intelligible. This view is found

24

Trin. 1.1: Quorum nonnulli ea quae de corporalibus rebus sive per sensus corporeos experta notaverunt, sive quae natura humani ingenii et diligentiae vivacitate vel artis adiutorio perceperunt, ad res incorporeas et spiritales transferre conantur ut ex his illas metiri atque opinari velint. Sunt item alii qui secundum animi humani naturam vel affectum de deo sentiunt, si quid sentiunt, et ex hoc errore cum de deo disputant sermoni suo distortas et fallaces regulas figunt. Est item aliud hominum genus, eorum qui universam quidem creaturam, quae profecto mutabilis est, nituntur transcendere ut ad incommutabilem substantiam quae deus est erigant intentionem; sed mortalitatis onere praegravati cum et videri volunt scire quod nesciunt et quod volunt scire non possunt, praesumptiones opinionum suarum audacius affirmando intercludent sibimet intellegentiae vias, magis eligentes sententiam suam non corrigere perversam quam mutare defensam. On Augustine’s understanding of the ascent of the soul from sense perception to spiritual vision, see John C. Cavadini, “The Structure and Intention of Augustine’s De Trinitate,” Augustinian Studies 23 (1992): 103–123; Frederick E. Van Fleteren, “Augustine’s Ascent of the Soul: A Reconsideration,” Augustinian Studies 5 (1974): 29–72, as well as “Augustine and the Possibility of the Vision of God in This Life,” Studies in Medieval Culture 11 (1977): 9–16; Margaret Miles, “Vision: The Eye of the Body and the Eye of the Mind in Saint Augustine’s De trinitate and Confessions,” Journal of Religion 63 (1983): 125–142.

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both in early works such as De animae quantitate (ca. 388)25 and De Vera Religione (390), as well as the later De Genesi ad litteram, Book 12 (ca. 415).26 The three errors in De Trinitate 1.1 mirror the stages of knowledge and understanding, but by perverting each stage. Thus, the errors described at the outset of the work serve to delineate the ways in which the human mind proceeds to the knowledge of God and how the mind needs to be corrected at each epistemological stage. Through this epistemological schema, Augustine establishes his view of scripture as the means of healing these errors and restoring the correct use of the human mind, not by denying sense perception but by using it correctly. He writes, It was therefore to purify the human spirit of such falsehoods that holy scripture, adapting itself to babes, did not shun any words, proper to any kind of thing whatever, that might nourish our understanding and enable it to rise up to the sublimities of divine things. Thus it would use words taken from corporeal things to speak about God with, as when it says “Shelter me under the shadow of your wings”; and from the sphere of created spirit it has transposed many words to signify what was not in fact like that, but had to be expressed like that; “I am a jealous God,” for example, and “I am sorry I made man.” But from things that simply do not exist it never has drawn any names to form into figures of speech or weave into riddles. Hence those who are shut off from the truth by the third kind of error fade away into the meaningless even more disastrously than the others, since they imagine things about God that have no place either in him or in anything he has made.27

Thus the scriptures use the very kinds of description that are prone to error—bodily depiction of God and attributing human emotions to God—in order to purify people of these errors. This is precisely because

25 See chapters 23–33 on the nature of sense perception, vision, knowledge, and the intellect. See also De Musica 6 on sense perception and the ascent of the mind from changeable to unchangeable realities. 26 See Gn. litt. 12.6.15ff. 27 Trin. 1.2: Ut ergo ab huiusmodi falsitatibus humanus animus purgaretur, sancta scriptura parvulis congruens nullius generis rerum verba vitavit ex quibus quasi gradatim ad divina atque sublimia noster intellectus velut nutritus assurgeret. Nam et verbis ex rebus corporalibus sumptis usa est cum de deo loqueretur, velut cum ait: Sub umbraculo alarum tuarum protege me. Et de spiritali creatura multa transtulit quibus significaret illud quod ita non esset sed ita dici opus esset, sicuti est: Ego sum deus zelans, et: Poenitet me hominem fecisse. De rebus autem quae omnino non sunt non traxit aliqua vocabula quibus vel figuraret locutiones vel sirparet aenigmata. Unde perniciosius et inanius evanescunt qui tertio illo genere erroris a veritate secluduntur hoc suspicando de deo quod neque in ipso neque in ulla creatura inveniri potest.

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the human mind cannot advance to the understanding of divine things without passing through the lower stages of sense perception and understanding. Rather, scripture uses these stages and trains readers to use them well, that with proper purification they might eventually rise above these stages to a better understanding of God. Therefore, scripture’s use of knowledge drawn from creation is the beginning of Augustine’s project of articulating the faith in the triune God, because it is the means by which God heals the mind of its errors and prepares it to receive greater truth. The whole framework of De Trinitate can be viewed loosely as a journey through these stages of knowing: from sense perception (Books 1–4) to reflection on this perception (5–7) to the turn inward (8–15). At each stage, Augustine focuses on how the mediation of Christ overcomes the division between God and creature.28 However, the way in which scripture functions in the entire work is more complicated than merely stage one of a three-part journey, and certainly Augustine features exegesis in the later books of De Trinitate as well as the first four. Further, Augustine believes that the human mind is not simply misdirected in its attempt to know God; it is flawed and damaged by sin. Therefore, its correction demands not simply illustrating or indicating the proper ways of knowing God,29 but purification and strengthening. Augustine claims that scripture provides “more endurable routes” to strengthen and nurture the mind in faith, that is, scripture presents God in concrete descriptions that human understanding, rooted in sensory experience, can more easily grasp, yet in ways that also demonstrate God’s transcendence.30 Here are the main underpinnings of Augustine’s project: while his purpose is to discuss the triune God, it is too difficult to know God’s substance, even for those “reborn by his grace.” Purification is necessary for the mind to “see” God’s “inexpressible reality,” which Augustine

28

Anatolios, “Oppositional Pairs and Christological Synthesis,” 244. Cf. vera rel. 16.31–32. 30 Trin. 1.3: Praediti fide nutrimur, et per quaedam tolerabiliora ut ad illud capiendum apti et habiles efficiamur itinera ducimur. Unde apostolus in Christo quidem dicit esse omnes thesauros sapientiae et scientiae absconditos. Eum tamen, quamvis iam gratia eius renatis sed adhuc carnalibus et animalibus, tamquam parvulis in Christo, non ex divina virtute in qua aequalis est patri sed ex humana infirmitate ex qua crucifixus est, commendavit. 29

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elsewhere calls a kind of invisible vision.31 Faith and “more endurable routes” make people fit to grasp this vision, even while they are awaiting their ultimate purification. This kind of “endurable route” is found in the scriptures and in creation, of which Augustine says that “both these are offered us for our observation and scrutiny in order than in them [God] may be sought, he may be loved, who inspired the one and created the other.”32 Augustine turns to the theophanies as narratives in which God is revealed under created forms, simultaneously exploring how scripture and creation present God. After the theophanies, Augustine focuses on the incarnation of Christ, whose human weakness and suffering are visible to all but whose divine nature can only be grasped in faith.33 Therefore, any attempt to understand the triune God must first start with how scriptural narratives and creation represent God, ultimately leading to the incarnation. Thus scripture functions in several ways in this work: as an authoritative source for doctrine (1.4), as the means of spiritual purification (1.2–3), and as the means of access to God’s acts in history, most notably in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ (1.3). It is the starting point of faith, spiritual progress, and doctrinal debate, but it is not clear at this point of De Trinitate if the human mind’s need for “more endurable routes” is ever outgrown in this life. As Augustine writes later in this work and elsewhere, this process of purification and arriving at the vision of God is lifelong and imperfect.34 Here, at the opening of the work, Augustine hints at this by saying that Paul writes for those who are “reborn by grace” and yet are still “fleshly,” that is, they still perceive according to the senses. Scripture works with this condition by using human language to describe God’s action in 31 See, for example, ep. 147.15.37 (De videndo Deo): “qui potest Deum invisibiliter videre,” and ep. 148.2.6: “invisibilem Deum invisibiliter videri.” 32 Trin. 2.1: Quae utraque nobis ad hoc proponitur intuenda ut ipse quaeratur, ipse diligatur qui et illam inspiravit et istam creavit. 33 Cf. Trin. 1.28ff, where Augustine contrasts vision of the Son of Man and the Son of God. All people, the good and the impious, will be able to see Christ according to the form by which he is the Son of Man when he comes to judge, but only the pure in heart will be able to see him in the form in which he is equal to the Father. In other words, all will see him in glory as judge, but only those who have been purified (Matt. 5:8) will “see” him in his divinity. 34 For example, see Trin. 14.23, 15.21; ep. 147.31–32 (De videndo Deo). This is a major difference between Augustine’s earlier works like De vera religione and his later works. In De vera 24.45 Augustine seems more optimistic that the progression towards spiritual vision in this life will gradually diminish one’s reliance upon sense perception and Christianity’s various tangible means of healing the soul.

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perceivable events in the created world, which the unpurified mind can understand in faith and through which the mind is encouraged to seek the divine “ever more.”35 In this context Augustine turns to the theophany narratives. Augustine’s critique of the literal christological reading When Augustine turns to the theophanies in Book Two, he begins by asking who appeared in these manifestations of God to the patriarchs?36 While both strands of patristic exegesis assume that the Son appeared in the theophanies, the emphasis on the identity of the subject is much stronger in the polemical-doctrinal strand, exemplified by Justin, Novatian, and Hilary. Like these authors, Augustine privileges certain narratives from Genesis and Exodus, namely, the visitors to Abraham and Sarah at Mamre (Genesis 18) and the burning bush (Exodus 3), as well as Moses’s vision of God’s back (Exod. 33) that figures prominently in the spiritual strand. In all of these narratives, theophanies occur at central moments of God’s covenantal relationship with Israel: promising descendants to Abraham, declaring liberation for Hebrew slaves in Egypt, and giving the law to Moses. As such, they manifest the revelation of God’s will for Israel in the most intimate and direct moments of encounter between God and human beings. Yet, Augustine’s use of the traditional question—who appeared?— does not lead to the traditional answer, Christ. Rather, Augustine resists identifying the theophanies with appearances of Christ alone, instead pointing to the trinitarian character of revelation and to the

35 Ps. 105:4, quoted in Trin. 1.5: Ita ingrediamur simul caritatis viam tendentes ad eum de quo dictum est: Quaerite faciem eius semper. 36 TeSelle writes of Augustine’s initial approach to the theophanies in De Trinitate that “it is a sign of the relatively undeveloped state of theology in the West that Augustine started out from the classic problem of earlier trinitarian thought, the view, held by the Apologists and retained by the Arians but rejected by the Church at large, that the Word and the Spirit are visible and that it was they who appeared in the theophanies” (Augustine the Theologian, 227; emphasis added). I disagree with his assessment, or at least think it needs further nuance. Apologists like Justin did not think that the Word and Spirit were visible, without further qualifying what such visibility meant (regarding nature, activity, etc.), and “the church at large” didn’t reject the identification of the theophanies with the Word as the one to whom it was proper to become visible, as was argued in chapter one. The anathemas from the First Creed of Sirmium (351) and Hilary’s exegesis demonstrate that it was not always so easy to distinguish between different readings of the Son appearing in the theophanies.

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narratives’ description of “God,” not the Son, as the one revealed to Abraham, Moses, and others. His conclusion that the Father, Son, or Spirit all could be represented symbolically in the theophanies (2.32) dramatically departs from the assumptions of his precedessors. Yet, Augustine’s respect for the “Catholic commentators” on scripture— for patristic exegetical tradition—leads him not to disavow their earlier interpretations but to suggest alternatives that more accurately reflect both the narratives’ wording and pro-Nicene doctrine. Therefore, in De Trinitate Augustine’s resistance to the literal christological reading favored in both strands of patristic exegesis is a subtle form of rejection, favoring the alternatives he suggests without openly criticizing his predecessors. Augustine’s resistance to the literal christological reading is all the more striking for the anti-Homoian context of De Trinitate. Earlier authors turned to the theophanies in their polemical (anti-Jewish, antiSabellian) writings for proof of the Son’s distinct, divine pre-existence, and Augustine himself turned to the theophanies for this same reason in his anti-Manichean polemic in Contra Adimantum. In writing just a few years later against the Homoians, however, Augustine in De Trinitate argues against opponents who already claim the theophanies for proof of their christological belief, namely, that the Son’s inferiority to the Father is proven by his visibility. Thus, over the course of the christological and trinitarian controversies of the fourth century the significance of the theophanies for doctrinal polemic continued while their meaning changed: from evidence of the Son’s distinct existence to proof of his subordinate status. In this context, Augustine mines the theophanies again for clues to God’s identity, nature, and activity in the world. How does Augustine critique the long-standing patristic interpretation that the theophanies were pre-incarnate appearances of the Son? Since he does not disavow the traditional interpretation outright, he weakens or destabilizes it in other, more subtle ways: by emphasizing how the theophanies signify God; by stressing the possibility that any member of the Trinity could be signified; by offering two possible readings of the same narrative; and by counseling readers not to exceed the narratives’ descriptions of who appeared to the patriarchs. Altogether, these strategies demonstrate Augustine’s break from the traditional, literal christological interpretation of the theophanies in his polemical-doctrinal context, leaving him to reconstruct the figurative christological meaning of the theophanies when he develops emphases of the spiritual strand of theophany exegesis.

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Theophanies as signs Building on Ambrose’s exegesis, Augustine stresses that the theophanies indicate God or something about God. The language of indication underscores that Augustine thinks of the theophanies as signs that are distinct from the reality toward which they point, and yet they represent that reality by virtue of some likeness or fittingness.37 In turn, this allows Augustine to stress distance between the theophany and God, because the visible and audible phenomena of the theophany are distinct from the revelation of God in the theophany. In this way, the question of “who appeared” becomes less significant, and the question of “what did the theophany mean?” takes on primary importance. For example, when Augustine turns to the Mamre narrative (Gen. 18), he considers the identity of the three visitors to Abraham and Sarah. Like Justin, Novatian, and Hilary, he notes the problematic fluctuation in the narrative between the single and plural references to the visitor. For example, Augustine contrasts the narrative’s opening statement that the Lord appeared to Abraham (Gen. 18:1) with the subsequent claim that Abraham saw three human beings (18:2). Augustine further notes the tension in the passage regarding the visitors’ identity, saying that Abraham hosted the men (plural) and attended to their physical needs of refreshment, but he spoke to them as one person, the Lord God (2.19). Thus far, Augustine sounds remarkably similar to Justin, Novatian, and Hilary. However, the similarity ends when Augustine questions the exegetical claim that the three visitors were the Son accompanied by two angels. He reasons that if the Son were indeed visible before his incarnation and that this theophany were a manifestation of him, then why should three persons have appeared (2.20)? Further, he notes, the narrative does not make any distinction between the three visitors in form or age or power.38 In his view, these details of the narrative suggest the equality of the Trinity and the singular substance of the three persons.39 Thus, unlike Hilary, Augustine gives a trinitarian reading of Mamre, but not as an actual manifestation of the Father, Son, and Spirit. Rather, he sees in the story an insinuation of divine equality and

37 For Augustine’s ideas on signs in other works, see chapters four (discussion of De vera religione) and six (discussion of De doctrina Christiana and De civitate Dei). 38 Trin. 2.20: Cum vero tres visi sunt nec quisquam in eis vel forma vel aetate vel potestate major ceteris dictus est. 39 Trin. 2.20: Cur non hic accipiamus visibiliter insinuatam per creaturam visibilem trinitatis aequalitatem atque in tribus personis unam eandemque substantiam?

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likeness, an expression that the divine substance can subsist in three persons. Therefore, he understands that the narrative suggests certain truths about God as triune. Thus, Augustine moves away from reading the theophany as an appearance of Christ, and he moves toward interpreting the theophany as a sign, not manifestation, of the Trinity.40 Similarly, in Book Four Augustine claims that the theophanies are likenesses (similitudines) of Christ, speaking of the savior to come (4.11) and indicating God’s saving intent (4.2). As likenesses, the theophanies resemble the incarnate Christ but are not appearances of him. They are a visible means by which God reveals both God’s intention to save human beings out of love and human need for redemption (4.2). Just as signs work by resembling what they indicate, so too the theophanies signify Christ through similiarity: God speaks to people in and through creation in many ways, but above all in the person of Christ. However, they remain distinct from Christ, who was sent into the world only in his incarnation, not in prior revelatory events (4.30). Therefore, the theophanies may be understood from the lens of Christ’s incarnation, shedding light on how God interacts with the world, but they are not appearances of the pre-incarnate Christ. In these ways, Augustine emphasizes the importance of what the theophanies reveal about God: God is not distant but may be sought through means available to the senses and to human understanding. However, he also re-orients the meaning of the theophanies away from proof of Christ’s pre-incarnate appearances and toward their ability to signify how God works salvation in and through creation. Thus the theophanies retain a christological meaning, but only through their similiarity to the incarnation, not through manifestation of the Son. Trinitarian possibilities Building on his view of the theophanies as signs, Augustine further weakens the literal christological reading by asserting that any one of 40 See also Ambrose, De Cain et Abel 1.8.30; De excessu fratris 2.96; De spiritu sancto 2.p.4; De fide 1.13.80. For a brief overiew of trinitarian interpretation of Mamre in the early Christian theology, see Lars Thunberg, “Early Christian Interpretations of the Three Angels in Genesis 18,” Studia Patristica 7; Texte und Untersuchungen 92 (1966): 560–570. Thunberg cites several theologians prior to Augustine who have ambiguous references to signs or types of trinitarian ideas in their Mamre interpretations, including Philo, Origen, and Ambrose. However, most of the clearly trinitarian interpretations post-date Augustine: Caesarius of Arles, Pseudo-Dionysius, and Maximus the Confessor.

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the Trinity could be indicated by a theophany. While Augustine freely admits that the scriptures nowhere say that the Father is sent into the world (2.22), he suggests that the theophanies can signify either Father or Son or Spirit. For example, he turns to the burning bush theophany (Exod. 3), in which God identifies himself to Moses as “the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” (Exod. 3:6), claiming that “we cannot possibly say that the God of Abraham and the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob is the Son of God but is not the Father” (2.23).41 Here Augustine’s emphasis on the Trinity as the God of the patriarchs underscores two points. First, a revelation of God is implicitly, if not explicitly, trinitarian, since God is Father, Son, and Spirit. Second, if the theophanies are indications of God, not manifestations of divine persons sent into the world, then any of the Trinity may be properly signified by them. By applying the burning bush theophany equally to Father, Son, and Spirit, even theoretically, Augustine undermines one of the main underpinnings of traditional patristic theophany exegesis: the Son is always the one who reveals or represents the Father in the world. In so doing, he further distances the theophanies from a literal christological reading, instead emphasizing the trinitarian character of revelation, worked by Father, Son, and Spirit inseparably. Further, since Father, Son, and Spirit work inseparably in the theophanies, Augustine claims that the theophanies in general can represent any person of the Trinity: Acting in and through these angels, of course, were the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Sometimes it was the Father who was represented by them, sometimes the Son, sometimes the Holy Spirit, sometimes just God without distinction of persons.42

For Augustine, every work of revelation in the world is trinitarian, in the sense that Father, Son, and Spirit work together. However, particular revelations might signify or represent one divine person. Here,

41 He also says in Trin. 2.23: Si enim unus ex angelis erat, quis facile affirmare possit utrum ei filii persona nuntianda imposita fuerit an spiritus sancti an dei patris an ipsius omnino trinitatis qui est unus et solus deus, ut diceret: Ego sum deus Abraham et deus Isaac et deus Iacob? 42 Trin. 3.26: In quibus angelis erat utique et pater et filius et spiritus sanctus; et aliquando pater, aliquando filius, aliquando spiritus sanctus, aliquando sine ulla distinctione personae deus per illos figurabatur etsi visibilibus et sensibilibus formis apparens.

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Augustine moves beyond his interpretation in Contra Adimantum by suggesting that various theophanies equally represented the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. While he does not specify which theophanies might represent which persons, his belief in the equality, invisibility, and inseparability of the Trinity lead him to claim that the theophanies can apply equally to all three persons or to God without distinguishing persons. Given that the visible representation of the invisible God can only occur by angelic mediation and the use of creatures, rather than through the divine persons themselves, all three persons are equally capable of and suited to such representation. Two meanings One of Augustine’s more subtle ways of resisting the literal christological reading is to suggest two or more meanings for a narrative. In some cases he presents a new reading alongside a traditional one, ostensibly allowing the reader to choose. In other cases, he stresses the need for holding two meanings at the same time. With either strategy, Augustine destabilizes the literal christological reading by showing the plausibility of different interpretations. For example, in Augustine’s reading of the burning bush narrative (Exod. 3), he offers two possible answers to the question of who or what is manifested to Moses: either it is an angel bearing the person of the Lord by a “dispensation,” or it is a created thing that appeared solely for the duration of the theophany to “exhibit” the Lord’s presence to the human bodily senses.43 If the former, he reasons, then the angel is merely acting on behalf of God, and the theophany could signify any person of the Trinity. But, on the other hand, if the theophany involved a created thing exhibiting the Lord’s presence, then the “angel” acting in Exodus 3:2 is not an angelic creature but the Lord and God who is sent to announce God’s will, namely, either the Son or the Holy Spirit but not the Father.44 In other words, one could

43 Trin. 2.23: Unus ex multis angelis erat sed per dispensationem personam domini sui gerebat an assumptum erat aliquid creaturae quod ad praesens negotium visibiliter appareret et unde voces sensibiliter ederentur quibus praesentia domini per subiectam creaturam corporeis etiam sensibus hominis sicut oportebat exhiberetur. 44 Trin. 2.23: Si autem in usum rei praesentis assumpta creatura est quae humanis et oculis appareret et auribus insonaret et appellaretur et angelus domini et dominus et deus, non potest hic deus pater intellegi, sed aut filius aut spiritus sanctus.

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read Exodus 3 either as the appearance of an angel or as an action of Christ (or the Holy Spirit). Augustine, like Justin, Novatian, and Hilary, notes that the Son is often called the “angel of great counsel” of Isaiah 9:6 (LXX). Thus in his second interpretation—and Augustine does not favor one over the other here—he recalls the traditional interpretation that the Son is manifested to Moses at the burning bush. What is striking here is that Augustine is open to two interpretations, presenting both as equally likely possibilities. In the first interpretation, the triune God is represented by an angel, while the second posits that the Son or Spirit is shown through a visible creature. While Augustine’s reference to the second interpretation seems to affirm the literal christological reading, comparable to Justin’s and Hilary’s interpretations, he modifies the interpretation slightly. For in the second view, the person of the Son is “exhibited” to the senses but not properly manifested; the created thing is sensed by Moses’ eyes and ears. Further, Augustine reasons that either the Spirit or the Son could be exhibited in the theophany, although he is less inclined to think of the Spirit as “angel.”45 Thus he destabilizes the traditional interpretation even as he affirms it, by not using the language of manifestation or appearance, by stressing the mediation of a creature or an angel, by suggesting the Spirit could also be the subject of the theophany, and by suggesting that the whole Trinity is properly thought of as the one who spoke to Moses, “I am the God of your father” (Exod. 3:6). While Augustine technically allows the literal christological reading, it looks much weaker alongside other possible readings. In addition, Augustine stresses in both the Mamre (Gen. 18) and Sodom (Gen. 19) narratives how Abraham and Lot understood the theophanies on two levels. Abraham and Lot attended to their visitors’ needs for food and for rest, recognizing them as human beings, and yet they also addressed the visitors as one Lord (2.19, 2.21–22). By emphasizing two levels of recognition in the narratives, Augustine articulates that both divine and created realities are experienced in the theophanies. This minimizes the focus on which divine person appeared, and it suggests that the reader can understand a theophany

45 Trin. 2.23: Non potest hic deus pater intellegi, sed aut filius aut spiritus sanctus, quamquam spiritum sanctum alicubi angelum non recolam. Sed ex opere possit intellegi.

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in two ways as well: what do the senses perceive, and what does the mind understand? In these ways, Augustine suggests multiple ways of interpreting a single theophany. By stressing the visitors’ humanity, he also suggests that the theophanies are representations or significations of God, and he challenges interpretations of these narratives as visible appearances of the divinity. Further, Augustine offers an alternative to the traditional claim that two angels accompanied Christ to Mamre and continued to Sodom without him. Instead, Augustine notes that in Genesis 19, Lot continues to address the two visitors both as two persons and in the singular “Lord God.” He suggests that the reader understand in the narrative two persons and one divine substance, hinting at a trinitarian (or binitarian) meaning (2.22).46 He further suggests that the two angels at Sodom may be understood as the Son and the Holy Spirit, since the two angels were sent to Sodom just as the Son and the Holy Spirit were sent by the Father (2.22).47 Here Augustine is not asking who appeared, as he has articulated his question in 2.13, but rather he asks whom he and his readers might more fittingly (congruentius) understand (intellegimus) in the narrative.48 He does not give a conclusive answer, but offers an alternative reading. Thus he destablizes the traditional identification of the Lord in Genesis 18 with the Son by offering an alternative, but not exclusive, trinitarian interpretation.

46 Trin. 2.22: Hic intellegimus in plurali numero personas duas, cum autem idem duo tamquam unus conpellantur, unius substantiae unum dominum deum. 47 The biblical text itself does not actually depict the Lord sending the two angels to Sodom. Rather, the men set out (Gen. 18:16), the Lord speaks with Abraham about Sodom and declares that he must go down to the city to see what the people had done (v. 21), and the men turn and go to Sodom (v. 22). Augustine assumes that the two were sent; perhaps his failure to note the precise wording of the text, and the lack of sending language, indicates that he is still willing to allow the more common interpretation of Mamre-Sodom as a manifestation of the Son. Nevertheless, he does not think that the Son is the Lord who spoke with Abraham, as with Hilary, Justin, and Novatian. Further, he does not use language of the Son “appearing,” but only that the Son and Spirit might be “understood” in the narrative, which could involve figurative interpretation. 48 Trin. 2.22: Sed quas duas personas hic intellegimus? Patris et filli, an patris et spiritus sancti, an filii et spiritus sancti? Hoc forte congruentius quod ultimum dixi. Missos enim se dixerunt, quod de filio et de spiritu sancto dicimus. Nam patrem missum nusquam scripturarum nobis occurrit.

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Look to the context of the narrative Finally, Augustine’s simplest reason for resisting the literal christological reading is also perhaps his most obvious: the narrative itself does not say that the Son appeared. Augustine concludes his reading of the theophanies in Book Two by counseling against overly specific conclusions about which divine person appeared: We should not be rash in deciding which person of the three appeared in any bodily form or likeness to this or that patriarch or prophet, unless the whole context of the narrative provides us with probable indications. In any case, that nature, or substance, or essence, or whatever else you may call that which God is, whatever it may be, cannot be physically seen; but on the other hand we must believe that by creature control the Father, as well as the Son and the Holy Spirit, could offer the senses of mortal men a token representation (significationem) of himself in bodily guise or likeness.49

For the most part, Augustine does not find “probable indications” of which person appeared, although he suggests in a few places that one person or another might be aptly signified by a particular theophany (for example, Mamre might signify the Trinity; the two visitors to Lot might signify Son and Spirit; Moses’ vision of God’s back in Exod. 33 might signify Christ’s flesh). Augustine rightly notes that the narratives simply say that “God” appeared and spoke to the patriarchs, and Augustine interprets “God” as the invisible divinity that the Father, Son, and Spirit are inseparably. Augustine’s very reluctance to determine who appeared in the theophanies shows his departure from the traditional interpretation that freely identified the theophanies with Christ, even in the cases of Ambrose and Hilary, who asserted divine equality as much as Augustine. In addition, Augustine is adamant that the divine substance is not seen and correspondingly he emphasizes the mediation

49 Trin. 2.35: Interrogatis quae potuimus quantum sufficere visum est sanctarum scripturarum locis, nihil aliud, quantum existimo, divinorum sacramentorum modesta et cauta consideratio persuadet nisi ut temere non dicamus quaenam ex trinitate persona cuilibet patrum vel prophetarum in aliquo corpore vel similitudine corporis apparuerit nisi cum continentia lectionis aliqua probabilia circumponit indicia. Ipsa enim natura vel substantia vel essentia vel quolibet alio nomine appellandum est idipsum quod deus est, quidquid illud est, corporaliter videri non potest. Per subiectam vero creaturam non solum filium vel spiritum sanctum sed etiam patrem corporali specie sive similitudine mortalibus sensibus significationem sui dare potuisse credendum est.

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of creatures in most of the narratives.50 Finally, in this concluding section he again stresses the signification of the divine persons, even more strongly cutting off interpretations that claim that the Son appeared. That such signification could include even the Father (2.34), who is invisible by all accounts in early Christian theophany interpretation, underscores that Augustine has broken from the literal christological reading of the theophanies. Developing the spiritual strand In Books Two and Three Augustine rejects, or at least resists, the literal christological reading. The question remains, if the theophanies are not manifestations of Christ, do they have any special relationship to the incarnation, which is the ultimate theophany? Further, after challenging the conventional claims of the polemical-doctrinal strand, does Augustine likewise modify the conventional aspects of the spiritual strand? Augustine takes this up in Book Four by asking what the difference is between the theophanies and the proper mission of the Son, the incarnation (3.27), recalling the spiritual strand’s emphasis on the theophanies as promises of vision yet to be fulfilled. After separating the theophanies from the Son’s mission and emphasizing the difference between theophanies and incarnation, Augustine ultimately reconnects the two, redefining how the theophanies point toward the incarnation. In doing so, he develops many of the characteristic emphases of the spiritual strand of interpretation in greater depth. Just as Irenaeus, Tertullian, Origen, and Gregory of Nyssa focused on how the theophanies involve both physical and spiritual vision, prefigure Christ, and suggest spiritual transformation, so too Augustine considers the importance of sensory experience, how the theophanies witness to the incarnation, and how both theophanies and the Son’s mission in the world relate to the vision of God as the goal of human life.

50 See also the interpretation of Origen (chapter two) and Ambrose (chapter three).

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The many and the One First, Augustine considers how visible phenomena are part of God’s plan to bring human beings back to God and to transform them spiritually. Noting human longing for God and for the knowledge of eternal things amid the “fancies [of] the human heart,”51 Augustine sets forth the basic problem of human existence in searching for God in this world: But we were exiled from this unchanging joy, yet not so broken and cut off from it that we stopped seeking eternity, truth, and happiness even in this changeable time-bound situation of ours—for we do not want, after all, to die or to be deceived or to be afflicted. So God sent us sights suited to our wandering state, to admonish us that what we seek is not here, and that we must turn back from the things around us to where our whole being springs from—if it did not, we would not even seek the things here.52

These sights, preeminently the theophanies covered in the previous two books, are “suited to our wandering state” because they are available to the human senses and to human ways of knowing; that they are sent by God to re-orient human beings means that the sights must point beyond themselves to God. Therefore, even though Augustine has already established that only a visible thing or angel is seen in a theophany, not God’s very substance, the theophanies are special cases in which physical vision is transcended by the awareness of something greater that remains unseen. Augustine’s use of the term missa (missa sunt nobis divinitus visa) connects these sights with the sending of the Son, which has been a major focus of Books One through Three and which Augustine has discussed in detail regarding the Son’s equality with the Father.53 The sights of Genesis and Exodus correspond to the Son’s mission insofar as they are visible yet transcendent phenomena that communicate God’s presence and enable people to sense more

51

Trin. 4.1: Ego certe sentio quam multa figmenta pariat cor humanum. Trin. 4.2, emphasis added: Sed quoniam exsulavimus ab incommutabili gaudio, nec tamen inde praecisi atque abrupti sumus ut non etiam in istis mutabilibus et temporalibus aeternitatem, veritatem, beatitatem quaereremus (nec mori enim nec falli nec perturbari volumus), missa sunt nobis divinitus visa congrua peregrinationi nostrae quibus admoneremur non hic esse quod quaerimus sed illuc ab ista esse redeundum unde nisi penderemus hic ea non quaereremus. 53 See, for example, 2.9, where Augustine discusses how the Son’s being sent (missus) relates to common understanding of missa as outward sights that also exist from the interior structure (apparatu) of the spiritual nature. 52

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in faith than their eyes can see, and thus to rise above their sensory experience and return to God. Recalling that the tendency of the literal christological reading was to see Christ back in the theophanies, whose appearances prior to his incarnation proved his divinity, Augustine sees the theophanies pointing forward to Christ by virtue of their likeness to him. As Robert Markus has shown, similitudo for Augustine expresses resemblance between two things without necessarily implying that one is dependent upon the original.54 For Augustine, the theophanies’ similarity to the incarnate Christ is expressed through how they visibly represent God’s intention to enter into the world through the mediation of created things, out of love (4.2). Correspondingly, they are not images of the Son, which implies derivation, nor are they equated with the Son himself. As likenesses, they remain distinct and therefore different from the incarnation, even as their similarity underscores a common element of God’s visible representation in the world. Using this key idea of likeness, Augustine articulates how the theophanies among the many things of creation bear witness to the one, Christ, who reintegrates a fragmented creation in the oneness of God.55 In poetic language about the one and the many, Augustine claims that the theophanies—those sacred and mysterious appearances to the patriarchs worked by angels—proclaimed the coming of Christ to people who turned away from God and toward finite, visible things: All the things that appeared sacredly and mysteriously to our fathers by angelic miracles, or that were performed through angels, were likenesses of [Christ], so that all creation might in some fashion utter the one who was to come and be the savior of all who needed to be restored from death. By wickedness and ungodliness with a crashing discord we had bounced away, and flowed and faded away from the one supreme true God into the many, divided by the many, clinging to the many. And so it was fitting that at the beck and bidding of a compassionate God the many should themselves acclaim together the one who was to come, and that acclaimed by the many together the one should come, and that the

54 R. A. Markus, “Imago and Similitudo in Augustine,” Revue des études augustiniennes 10 (1964): 125. 55 Isabelle Bochet, citing G. Remy, notes that the contrasting pair of unum-multa is very different from unum-omnia. The first pair suggests inner dislocation, fragmentation, distention, and distance from God, and in the context of the Hymn to the One in Trin. 4.11, suggests that in Christ the movement of disintegration reverses to a dynamic of reintegration. See Bochet, “The Hymn to the One in Augustine’s De Trinitate IV,” Augustinian Studies 38:1 (2007): 46–49.

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many should testify together that the one had come, and that we being disburdened of the many should come to the one . . . and that thus fully reconciled to God by him the mediator, we may be able to cling to the one, enjoy the one, and remain for ever one.56

Precisely because people “cling to the many,” or focus their attention on their experience of disparate sensible things, the theophanies use disparate visible signs to attract human attention for the purpose of elevating it towards something beyond themselves. Further, such elevation leads to the recollection of divided human attention and focus, enabling people to “enjoy the one,” or to transcend their fragmented sensory experience and rise toward a spiritual vision of God. Thus the essential feature of the theophanies is their double nature as separate and united, that is, many and connected to the One. Further, the human problem of being drawn away from God and toward sensible things involves not only the fragmented character of creation but also deception by demons, who like angels can manipulate their bodies and other things to create miraculous sights (4.14). More simply, it concerns not merely sensory vision but also false vision. Such miracles are “sacrilegious” likenesses (4.14), drawing human attention away from God through deception. Therefore, God counters the demonic likenesses by using similar miraculous sights, thereby attracting attention and directing it toward the way of return to God through the incarnate Christ. Once again, Augustine claims that God works in and through created things, using the very means that pull one’s gaze away from God, for the purpose of healing, purifying, and strengthening the mind to see God spiritually (cf. 1.3). To this end, God elicits faith through sending the Son of God to become the Son of man and draw humanity to himself (4.24). So God uses temporal means—faith in “things done in time for our sake”57—to

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Trin. 4.11, translation slightly modified and emphasis added: Hoc sacramentum, hoc sacrificium, hic sacerdos, hic deus antequam missus veniret factus ex femina— omnia quae sacrate atque mystice patribus nostris per angelica miracula apparuerunt sive quae per ipsos facta sunt similitudines huius fuerunt ut omnis creatura factis quodam modo loqueretur unum futurum in quo esset salus universorum a morte reparandorum. Quia enim ab uno deo summo et vero per impietatis iniquitatem resilientes et dissonantes defluxeramus et euanueramus in multa discissi per multa et inhaerentes in multis, oportebat nutu et imperio dei miserantis ut ipsa multa venturum conclamarent unum, et a multis conclamatus veniret unus, et multa contestarentur venisse unum, et a multis exonerati veniremus ad unum . . . et per mediatorem deo reconciliati haereamus uni, fruamur uno, permaneamus unum. 57 Trin. 4.24: Fidem rebus temporaliter gestis proper nos.

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lead human beings to eternal truth. This happens pre-eminently in the incarnation, the sending of the Son into this world, but also through the various other “likenesses” of Christ in created form. Augustine writes, Everything that has taken place in time in “originated” matters which have been produced from the eternal and reduced back to the eternal, and has been designed to elicit the faith we must be purified by in order to contemplate the truth, has either been testimony to this mission or has been the actual mission of the Son of God.58

Thus, the theophanies witness to Christ’s mission by displaying the propriety of God entering the world and becoming known through sensible things. In other words, they demonstrate that God can and should be sought through tangible means—including creation, scriptures, and the church (2.1, 2.28)—even as God remains transcendent. Ultimately, they witness to the incarnation of the Son, which itself elicits faith that purifies the mind of its sensory attachments and strengthens it for contemplating truth that cannot be seen with the eyes. Thus the theophanies prepare for the incarnation and work in concert with faith in the incarnate Word to purify the mind for contemplation. Redefining mission Augustine also redefines the relationship between theophanies and incarnation by both limiting and expanding what is means for the Son to be sent into the world. Many earlier interpreters who claimed that Christ appeared in the theophanies connected the Son’s mission in the world with his origin from the Father. However, Augustine distinguishes the two, arguing that the Son’s proper mission was to become flesh and appear to the world (4.28), while he is called “born” of the Father in virtue of his eternal origin from the Father (4.27). As born of the Father, he is fully divine and equal to the Father. However, as born of a woman (incarnate), the Son is less than the Father regarding his humanity (4.28). This view of the Son’s mission makes it more difficult to think, as was commonly held in traditions preceding Augustine, that it belongs to the Son’s pre-existent, divine nature to be sent into the world, and 58 Trin. 4.25: Quaecumque propter faciendam fidem qua mundaremur ad contemplandam veritatem in rebus ortis ab aeternitate prolatis et ad aeternitatem relatis temporaliter gesta sunt aut testimonia missionis huius fuerunt aut ipsa missio filii dei.

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therefore that the “angel” and Lord appearing in the theophanies was the Son. Rather, Augustine claims that as Son of the Father, he is equal to the Father in all things and works together with the Father and the Holy Spirit. By identifying the Son’s mission so strongly with incarnation, and correspondingly by distinguishing the Son’s incarnate subordination from his divine equality,59 Augustine stresses that the temporal dispensation, not the Son’s pre-existent divine nature, is the proper context for understanding the Son’s mission. Further, the sending of the Son into the world is an act of the Father and the Son working together (Trin. 2.9), and therefore his mission does not imply inferiority to the Father. In another sense, however, Augustine expands what it means for the Son to be sent, which opens up new ways to think about the relation of the theophanies to the incarnation. He claims that there is a second sense in which the Son is called “sent,” when he is known in time by someone.60 Thus there are two proper missions of the Son: (1) to become incarnate, and (2) to be known by someone in time. More specifically, the second involves knowing that the Son is from the Father (4.29). This second sense of mission, although a more spiritual and interior definition, depends on the first, that is, faith in Jesus as the Word made flesh makes it possible to know the Son in time and to recognize how the many different things of creation testify to him. With this second definition of missus one could consider whether the Son was “sent” in the Old Testament according to a different meaning, that is, without requiring the Son’s manifestation.61 For example,

59 Augustine bases his distinction upon his interpretation of Phil. 2:6–11 as well as his third hermeneutical rule (Trin. 2.3), in light of which Christ’s being from the Father is not affected by his being less than the Father as a human being. 60 Trin. 4.28, emphasis added: “The Son of God is not said to be sent in the very fact that he is born of the Father, but either in the fact that the Word made flesh showed himself to this world . . . or else he is sent in the fact that he is perceived in time by someone’s mind, as it says, ‘Send her to be with me and labor with me’ (Wis. 9:10). That he is born means he is from eternity to eternity—he is ‘the brightness of eternal light’ (Wis. 7:24). But that he is sent means that he is known by somebody in time.” Non ergo eo ipso quo de patre natus est missus dicitur filius, sed vel eo quod apparuit huic mundo verbun caro factum . . . vel eo quod ex tempore cuiusquam mente percipitur sicut dictum est: Mitte illam ut mecum sit et mecum laboret. Quod ergo natum est ab aeterno in aeternum est: Candor est enim lucis aeternae. Quod autem mittitur ex tempore a quoquam cognoscitur. 61 Augustine also applies this double distinction to the Holy Spirit: as “gift of God” (donum dei) he proceeds from the Father and the Son, while as “sent” the Spirit is known to proceed from the Father and the Son (Trin. 4.29).

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in Exodus 33 the Son might be understood as sent if the narrative is read as a figure of Christ, particularly if figurative christological interpretation of the narrative deepens one’s knowledge of the Son through faith. Thus, it is possible that one could understand the Son as “sent” in the theophanies through interpreting signs and figures in the biblical narratives. However, this interpretation is conjectural and not explicitly asserted by Augustine, and it still looks to the theophanies as signs and not instances of the Son’s mission. For if the Son’s mission includes knowing him in time, this happens in the mind of the believer, and therefore it could be effected by the interpretation of a theophany narrative in relation to the Son’s incarnation, but the Son is not manifested in the event of the theophany per se. In this secondary sense, figurative interpretation takes on increased significance for understanding how the theophanies relate to spiritual growth and the contemplation of God. Figurative interpretation and the vision of God In one important case in De Trinitate, Augustine explicitly and extensively connects a theophany’s meaning to Christ. However, he does so not through a claim that Christ appeared, but through a figurative reading in which the theophany signifies seeing God through faith in Christ. In turn, the figurative reading emphasizes spiritual growth, particularly how the life of faith cultivates the desire to see God, much as Gregory of Nyssa describes in the roughly contemporaneous Life of Moses. Turning to Exodus 33, a narrative in which Moses asks to see God’s face and God responds by allowing Moses to see not the divine face but the “back” (posteriora) of God, Augustine develops many of the emphases of the spiritual strand of theophany narrative exegesis, such as the distinction between how God can and can’t be seen in this life and how the promise of vision leads to spiritual transformation. In interpreting this passage, Augustine focuses not so much upon what what Moses himself saw, but how the reader might grow in desire for God through the life of faith. The significant contours of the narrative text include Moses’ request to see the Lord openly,62 which the Lord grants in a limited way: the 62 Exod. 33:13, quoted in Trin. 2.27: Ostende mihi temetipsum manifeste ut videam te.

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Lord’s majesty will pass by while Moses is covered by God’s hand in the cleft of a rock, but afterwards Moses will see God’s back (posteriora) but not God’s face (Exod. 33:19–23). This narrative also includes a verse frequently quoted in patristic exegesis, “No one will see my face and live” (Exod. 33:20). In contrast to the other theophanies treated by Augustine in De Trinitate, this narrative involves a direct vision of God, not through any created medium but of God’s own “posteriora”; yet, the narrative also includes a specific and adamant denial of vision of God’s face and majesty. The tension in this narrative between the highest vision of God described in the Bible and the utter impossibility of seeing God in this life makes this passage fruitful for figurative exegesis and critical to Augustine’s ideas about how God may or may not be seen. First, Augustine claims that the Moses’ request to see God “openly” (manifeste) refers to spiritual and not physical vision, since contrary to the christological claims of Augustine’s Homoian opponents, God cannot be seen (Trin. 2.27).63 Here, Augustine echoes the distinctions made in the spiritual strand of exegesis regarding how God can be seen, namely, not in God’s very being but in some other way. For example, Irenaeus claims God’s goodness may be seen but not God’s glory, while Origen and Ambrose claim that God can only be seen with the eye of the heart, and Gregory of Nyssa interprets Moses’ vision as an experience of desire, not physical sight. For Augustine the meaning of the theophany concerns its spiritual significance, that is, how it represents Moses’ desire to see God. The question of “who appeared” in the theophany is no longer relevant if the story is not about physical vision. However, he does not focus his interpretation on Moses’ ineffable experience of seeing God spiritually. Rather, he reads the story figuratively for its implications about how one becomes capable of seeing God spiritually, that is, through faith in Christ. In other words, he expresses how people might prepare themselves for the spiritual vision of God that Moses experienced through the tangible means of faith

63 While Augustine uses the language of seeing “spiritaliter” here, elsewhere he emphasizes the intellect or the mind in such vision. See, for example, Quaestiones Exodus 151, De Genesi ad litteram 12.6.15ff, and Contra Adimantum 28.2. These examples illustrate the fluidity of Augustine’s terminology; in De Genesi ad litteram he explicitly defines how he is and is not using the terms spiritale and intellectuale (see chapter six).

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lived in the community of the church, purifying and strengthening one’s mind through beholding Christ’s humanity. In his interpretation, Augustine identifies how the elements of the narrative are figures: the “back” of God prefigures Christ’s flesh, and the “face” of God which no one can see refers to Christ’s divinity (2.28).64 Further, the rock in which Moses stands is the Catholic church, in which one may securely encounter faith in Christ and his resurrection protected from heresies (2.30),65 and Moses himself is a figure of the Israelites who believed in Christ after his resurrection (2.31).66 Similarly, Irenaeus and Gregory of Nyssa read the rock of Exodus 33 as a figure of the incarnation, indicating that the promise to Moses is fulfilled in Christ. However, Augustine’s figurative interpretation is not merely a case of correlating parts of the narrative with later Christian realities. Rather, Augustine, like Gregory of Nyssa, frames the narrative as a point of reflection on the desire to see God, which itself represents an ever-deepening process of spiritual transformation. He connects Moses’s sight of God’s back, signifying Christ’s flesh, with desire that is not satisfied but actually increased and deepened by such vision: This then is the sight which ravishes every rational soul with desire for it, and of which the soul is the more ardent in its desire the purer it is; and it is the purer the more it rises again to the things of the spirit; and it rises the more to the things of the spirit, the more it dies to the material things of the flesh.67

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Trin. 2.28: Non incongruenter ex persona domini nostri Iesu Christi praefiguratum solet intellegi ut posteriora eius accipiantur caro eius in qua de virgine natus est et mortuus et resurrexit, sive propter postremitatem mortalitatis posteriora dicta sint, sive quod eam prope in fine saeculi, hoc est posterius, suscipere dignatus est. Facies autem eius illa dei forma in qua non rapinam arbitratus esse aequalis deo patri, quod nemo utique potest videre et vivere; sive quia post hanc vitam in qua peregrinamur a domino et ubi corpus quod corrumpitur aggravat animam, videbimus facie ad faciem sicut dicit apostolus. . . . Non ergo immerito nemo poterit faciem, id est ipsam manifestationem sapientiae dei, videre et vivere. 65 Trin. 2.30: Quis locus terrenus est penes dominum nisi hoc est penes eum quod eum spiritaliter attingit? . . . Sed videlicet intellegitur locus penes eum in quo statur super petram ipsa ecclesia catholica ubi salubriter videt pascha domini, id est transitum domini, et posteriora eius, id est corpus eius, qui credit in resurrectionem eius. 66 Trin. 2.31: Multi israhelitae quorum tunc erat figura Moyses post resurrectionem domini crediderunt in eum tamquam iam videntes posteriora eius remota manu eius ab oculis suis. 67 Trin. 2.28, translation slightly modified: Illa est ergo species quae rapit omnem animam rationalem desiderio sui tanto ardentiorem quanto mundiorem et tanto mundiorem quanto ad spiritalia resurgentem, tanto autem ad spiritalia resurgentem quanto a carnalibus morientem.

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In exceptionally passionate and vivid language ( flagrabat, rapit, ardentiorem, mundiorem, resurgentem, morientem), Augustine evokes an intense spiritual transformation: from dying to rising to purifying to burning to ecstasy. Further, Augustine’s use of tanto . . . quanto suggests that this transformation is characterized by continuous deepening: the more one desires to see God, the more one becomes purified for this sight and ascends towards it, deepening one’s desire even more, making one even more purified to rise even higher, and so forth. His exegetical focus, therefore, is not on who precisely appeared to Moses, but on the progressive and transformative nature of the desire to see God, which itself is effected by the “sight” or revelation of God’s love, made known in Christ through faith. In this sense, what Moses saw is less significant than how Moses is affected by seeing God even partially, even while obscured in a rock and covered from seeing God’s “face.”68 Likewise the reader, obscured from seeing God fully in this life, still glimpses God through Christ in the shelter of the church, and grows in desire to know and experience God more fully. Augustine’s interpretation of Exodus 33 is indeed christological, meaning that he understands the passage to prefigure Christ in whom God is revealed to the world. Further, his reading is also ecclesiological, associating the vision of Christ with the Catholic church’s “protection” from the christologies of the “heretics” like the Homoians. Together this suggests that the spiritual vision of God is realized through the life of faith in the church, aided by tangible things like scriptures, sacraments, and community. However, Augustine’s emphasis here on encountering God through the mediation of visible, tangible things also locates the christological meaning of this theophany in the whole dispensation of God’s use of creation to purify the mind for spiritual vision, which he has described repeatedly in Books One through Four. The scriptures use things of creation to attract and elevate human attention to God (1.2); the scriptures and creation are offered for human vision that they might seek and love God (2.1); God sent sights to persuade human beings to turn back to God by revealing how much God loves them (4.2). In short, the theophanies are part of God’s intention

68 As Augustine writes in Sermon 23.14, in the theophanies God is both revealed and concealed: by “appearing” under an outward form God’s presence is made known, but God’s inner nature remains hidden.

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to use visible things to effect transcendent spiritual experience, above all through Christ’s incarnation. Augustine further connects Moses’ vision of God with the life of faith in the church, noting the eschatological character of the spiritual vision of God. While Gregory of Nyssa associates Moses’ vision of God’s back with the action of following Christ, Augustine suggests that in this life, the vision of Christ in faith increases desire for the vision of God:69 But while “we are away from the Lord and walking by faith and not by sight” (2 Cor. 5:6), we have to behold Christ’s back, that is his flesh, by this same faith. . . . All the surer is our love for the face of Christ which we long to see, the more clearly we recognize in his back how much Christ first loved us.70

So like Moses, burning to see God more “openly,” Augustine’s audience is nourished on faith while they await the realization of their hope, being in the presence of God in eternal life (“the face of Christ which we long to see”). The content of this faith is God’s love revealed in Christ, which Augustine associates with Christ’s life in the form of a servant, i.e., his humility and suffering, which heals human pride. More specifically, faith concerns Christ’s resurrection from the dead, which gives hope for the resurrection of all the faithful (2.29). Thus faith that is effected through the encounter with tangible things—Christ, God’s actions in creation, and the church—nurtures hope and desire to see “God’s face,” that is, desire for being with God in eternity. With his figurative and spiritual intepretation of Exodus 33, Augustine has shifted his examination of the Old Testament missions from a focus on discerning who appeared (2.13) to how this particular narrative shapes one’s own spiritual growth. Further, this transformation occurs through the proper use of tangible things: Christ’s human-

69 Michel Barnes argues that faith is not sight (which he associates with knowledge) but assent that allows one to interpret revelatory events; see “The Visible Christ and the Invisible Trinity,” 332. See also Basil Studer, “History and Faith in De Trinitate,” Augustinian Studies 28:1 (1997): 22–23. 70 Trin. 2.28, translation slightly modified: Sed dum peregrinamur a domino et per fidem ambulamus non per speciem, posteriora Christi, hoc est carnem, per ipsam fidem videre debemus, id est in solido fidei fundamento stantes quod significat petra, et eam de tali tutissima specula intuentes, in catholica scilicet ecclesia de qua dictum est: Et super hanc petram aedificabo ecclesiam meam. Tanto enim certius diligimus quam videre desideramus faciem Christi quanto in posterioribus eius agnoscimus quantum nos prior dilexerit Christus.

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ity, the scriptures, and the church, which includes the people and the sacraments that sustain them. The theophany in Exodus 33 has enduring value for Augustine precisely for its depiction of the pure desire to see God. The historical event, that Moses desired to see God clearly, serves as a figure for believers, precisely because Moses’ “clear” vision of God is spiritual and intellectual, not physical. Thus the theophany is an example of how God’s dispensation of salvation to bring humanity back to God might be seen in the life of Moses and realized in the lives of the faithful. What is most salient in this theophany narrative, for Augustine, is not the pinnacle experience of a spiritual exemplar, but the implications of such an experience for the discipleship and spiritual growth of believers. Conclusion In De Trinitate Augustine changes the dominant trend of patristic theophany narrative interpretation—the literal christological reading claiming that Christ appeared to the patriarchs—found in polemicaldoctrinal and spiritual interpretation alike, among both pro-Nicene and Homoian authors. That he did so after first espousing the literal christological reading in Contra Adimantum demonstrates the intentionality of his change, as does his repeated praise for Catholic commentators on scripture in De Trinitate. Simply, he is well aware of how earlier authors, especially Hilary and Ambrose, read the theophanies, and he parts ways from them on some major points while developing other traditional emphases. The complex context and purposes of De Trinitate inform Augustine’s exegetical change. Augustine begins his massive work by examining the biblical evidence of the distinctive and yet inseparable work of the Father, Son, and Spirit; here the theophanies gain a very prominent place—the better portion of three books or roughly onefifth of the entire work—as potential evidence of the Son’s and the Spirit’s missions in the world. Certainly Augustine’s confrontation with the Homoians, who take the theophanies as proof of the Son’s subordination to the Father, provides an occasion for him to rethink the trinitarian and christological implications of the theophanies in conversation with pro-Nicene doctrine. In many respects, he continues the work of Hilary and Ambrose by applying the trinitarian doctrine of divine inseparability and equality to the theophanies. Augustine’s

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emphasis on signification enables him to associate theophanies theoretically with any person of the Trinity, a claim neither Hilary nor Ambrose ever made. In many respects, Augustine’s challenge to the literal christological reading emerges most strongly when he questions the common conclusions of the polemical-doctrinal strand, either by offering alternative readings or by critiquing the traditional claim that Christ acted an angel by appearing in the theophany. In addition, his reflections on epistemology, scripture, creation, and the role of faith in knowing and “seeing” God allow him to draw on common features of the spiritual strand of interpretation. Augustine here reconnects the theophanies to the incarnation by placing them into the context of the whole dispensation in which God uses created things to attract and elevate the human mind from sense perception to spiritual vision. This dispensation is centrally rooted in the incarnation, which not only elevates the human mind but purifies, heals, and strengthens it for the contemplation of God. The human soul, damaged by pride, must be gradually accustomed to the divine through the mediation of tangible, visible things. The theophanies are likenesses of the incarnation, revealing that God can and should be sought through creation, the scriptures, and ultimately through Christ. They indicate the very desire to see God, which is not satisfied in this life but deepens as one grows in faith in the incarnate Christ, who integrates human humility and suffering with divine healing and love. In this way, the theophanies testify along with creation to the unity that God re-creates in Christ. Put more simply, Augustine’s main conclusions about the theophanies in De Trinitate assert that: (1) God is signified and not seen in the theophanies, since the divine substance is invisible, including that of the Son, (2) any of the Trinity could be signified by a theophany, (3) the theophanies are likenesses of the incarnation as part of God’s dispensation to be revealed and to save human beings through physical, tangible means, and (4) the theophanies provide an occasion to reflect on the desire for the spiritual vision of God that is deepened by faith in Christ but not realized in this life. Although Augustine begins by asking the conventional question of “who appeared” in the theophanies (2.13), he not only revises the conventional answer, he also asks “why”—why did God use such strange appearances? Why are these past events important to people in the present, such that they should continue to read these narratives and draw some spiritual meaning from them? Why should they matter, if God appeared on earth even

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more clearly as the man Jesus Christ, and even then, why should the divine be mediated through a finite, weak, and humble human nature? And maybe most basically, why do stories of God appearing under creaturely form have value, if what people really desire is to transcend the visible, temporal, and earthly for a direct encounter with the eternal, invisible, unchangeable God? In asking such questions and in mining the two strands of traditional exegesis for answers, Augustine demonstrates his critical appropriation of patristic exegetical tradition, developing some aspects while critiquing others. His references to previous Catholic commentators on the scriptures show his respect for tradition, even as he freely suggests alternative intepretations. Likely, his respect for earlier commentators kept him from rejecting their interpretation more blatantly, as he will in the later anti-Homoian work Contra Maximinum (see chapter six). Instead, he challenges the traditional christological reading in subtler ways, advocating that interpreters not specify which person appeared unless the narrative gives a clear indication. This, in turn, indicates how patristic theophany interpretation was critiqued within the framework of patristic views of Christ and the scriptures. In other words, if the literal christological reading developed within the logic of certain beliefs about divine mediation and revelation, it was also critiqued on its own terms by Augustine. Modern exegetes were not the first to critique an interpretation of a theophany in Genesis or Exodus that claimed Christ appeared and spoke to human beings. While certainly the development of pro-Nicene belief in divine inseparability and equality aided Augustine’s interpretation, he also worked out of theological assumptions similar to those of the earlier interpreters: the scriptures are unified and inspired by God; they consistently testify to the one God, Father, Son, and Spirit; and God’s saving works find their full meaning in Christ. Within this framework, Augustine critiques the literal christological reading as inadequate both to the phrasing of the texts (2.35), which do not claim that Christ appeared in the theophanies, and to Christian belief about Christ and the triune God. Thus Augustine critically reinterprets the theophanies, reconfiguring their relation to Christ and exploring their significance for the spiritual vision of God as the goal of the life of faith. Augustine shifted his theophany narrative interpretation around the year 400, thirty years before his death. In this time period he wrote extensively on the scriptures and the vision of God, at times revising his earlier ideas and at others, asserting them more boldly. How,

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then, did Augustine’s theophany interpretation in De Trinitate shape his later readings of the theophanies? Further, what implications did his theophany exegesis have for his later thoughts on the life of faith and the spiritual vision of God? In answering these questions, we may explore the impact of Augustine’s critique of the literal christological reading.

CHAPTER SIX

THE IMPLICATIONS OF AUGUSTINE’S THEOPHANY NARRATIVE EXEGESIS Introduction While Augustine’s decisive shift in his theophany narrative interpretation comes in De Trinitate, in his later writings he works through the implications of this shift for his thoughts on types of vision, signs, and the spiritual vision of God in the life to come. Several major writings, ranging from works roughly contemporaneous with the early books of De Trinitate (De doctrina Christiana) to works written near the end of Augustine’s life (Contra Maximinum), develop Augustine’s understanding of how God is both seen and unseen in particular theophany narratives and of their significance for encountering God in the life of faith. In particular, as Augustine thinks through the theological implications of his theophany interpretation, he increasingly emphasizes mediation even as he stresses spiritual or intellectual vision: in scriptural narratives, in faith, and even in the resurrection of the body. These implications can be seen in three ways: (1) how God was seen, involving Augustine’s application of types of vision to theophany narratives to understand more precisely what the patriarchs saw physically and intellectually; (2) how God is seen, namely, the value of signs in mediating God’s presence to human beings in the context of incarnational faith; and (3) how God will be seen by the saints in heaven, who realize the hope promised to the pure in heart of seeing God face to face (cf. Matt. 5:8; 1 Cor. 13:12; 1 John 3:2). How was God seen? Types of vision in the theophanies One of the clearest ways in which Augustine develops the exegetical themes raised in De Trinitate involves asking more specifically how the patriarchs perceived God. While he articulates his theory of vision in the early anti-Manichean treatise Contra Adimantum (ca. 394; see chapter four), in later works like Epistle 147 and De Genesi ad litteram

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he refines the theory and applies it to specific theophanies to express mulitple levels of perception by Abraham and Moses. In particular, his ideas about faith and intellectual vision help Augustine to articulate both how the invisible God remained unseen and yet the patriarchs encountered God through the theophanies in a deeper way. In Epistle 147 (De videndo Deo, ca. 413),1 Augustine responds to the question of whether God can be seen and how to interpret varying scriptural accounts on the possibility of the vision of God.2 While in De Trinitate Augustine was primarily concerned with the theophanies as evidence of the triune God’s activity in the world, in these two epistles Augustine considers the theophanies for their problematic implications regarding the possibility of seeing God. Simply put, if, as Augustine claims, God is invisible, what should one make of stories of God “appearing” to Abraham (Gen. 18:1) and speaking with Moses “face to face” (Exod. 33:11)? Further, how can one reconcile such seemingly divergent scriptures as “No one has ever seen God” (Exod. 33:20) and the many figures of Genesis who did claim to have seen God? Writing in 413 to Paulina,3 who asked Augustine whether God can be seen with bodily eyes (ep. 147.1),4 Augustine stresses that God is incorporeal and therefore that God cannot be seen with the eyes of the body in this life (147.3). However, Augustine considers two types 1 Unless otherwise noted, quotations are from Letters, vol. 3 (131–164), trans. Sister Wilfrid Parsons, S.N.D., The Fathers of the Church (New York: Fathers of the Church, Inc., 1953). Latin quotations are from: Sancti Aureli Augustini Opera, Sect. II, Pars III: Epistulae, ed. Al Goldbacher, CSEL 44 (Vienna: Tempsky, 1904). 2 Basil Studer’s study of this letter, Zur Theophanie-Exegese Augustins : Untersuchungen zu einem Ambrosius-Zitat in der Schrift De videndo Deo, Ep 147, Studia Anselmiana 59 (Rome: Herder, 1971), provides a thorough study of the history of theophany interpretation as it comes to bear upon Augustine’s interpretation in this letter. Studer traces the anti-Photinian and anti-Arian interpretations of Augustine’s immediate predecessors, including Hilary and Ambrose, demonstrating how the challenge of such interpretations is to protect the equality of the Son and the uniqueness of his incarnation while demonstrating his mediation in the world. 3 Scholars disagree on the identity of the religiosa famula dei Paulina (ep. 147.1). Some have assumed the letter was intended for Paulinus of Nola, as Frederick Van Fleteren writes in “De Videndo Deo,” Augustine Through the Ages, ed. Allan D. Fitzgerald, O.S.A. (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1999). I take the feminine religiosa famula to refer to a woman, as does Wilfred Parsons in her translation (cited above). This use of famula contrasts with Augustine’s use of the masculine famulus to describe Moses in 147.20. 4 In De civitate Dei 22 Augustine takes up the question of whether God can be seen with the eyes of the spiritual body, that is, by the saints in the resurrection. See the section “How will God be seen? The vision of God in eternity” later in this chapter.

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of scriptural testimony that imply that God is seen or will be seen: (1) the theophanies, such as to Abraham at Mamre (147.18) and to Moses (147.13), which say that God “appeared” and that Moses spoke to God “face to face”; and (2) New Testament verses that speak of a future vision of God, such as Matthew 5:8, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God,” and 1 John 3:2, “When he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.” For Augustine, these different ways of seeing God—under a visible form in the past or after spiritual transformation in the future—imply different types of “seeing,” and he considers how scripture might mean different things by the same word. Most basically, he defines two types of seeing, by the eyes of the body and by the mind (147.3). While the former obviously refers to sense perception of visible objects (including the memory when it recalls things earlier perceived through the senses), the latter refers to understanding things that are not visible, such as one’s own “life, will, power of search, knowledge, ignorance” (sic vides vitam tuam, voluntatem, inquisitionem, scientiam, ignorantiam; 147.3). This type of vision Augustine calls the “gaze of the mind” (aspectus mentis),5 by which one knows one’s own self. Thus “physical” vision refers to sense perception and “mental” vision refers to immediate self-awareness and understanding. But Augustine asks whether either of these two types can be the historical vision of God as it is described in the scriptures. He writes, We believe that God is seen in the present life, but do we believe that we see Him with our bodily eyes, as we see the sun, or with the gaze of the mind, as everyone sees himself inwardly?6

For Augustine, the answer is no, God cannot be seen in either way, since God is invisible and the mind can only know itself and not another (147.3). Yet, there is a third kind of “seeing,” namely, faith. By “faith” Augustine means things that people believe to be true apart from gaining knowledge of them through the senses or through the inward gaze of the mind. This includes knowledge of historical events as well 5 In this epistle Augustine uses several phrases to refer to mental vision: aspectus mentis (ch. 3, twice in ch. 11); aspectus intimus (ch. 42); acies mentis (3 occurrences in ch. 43); and obtutus mentis (ch. 3, 10, 21, 22). Other common expressions simply use the ablative of means: videre mente, conspicere mente. 6 Ep. 147.3: Credimus videri deum nunc; num quia vidimus vel per oculos corporis, sicut videmus hunc solem, vel mentis obtutu, sicut se quisque interius videt.

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as faith in God. People “believe” these things, such as local histories and family ancestries, because they accept the authority or accuracy of their testimonies. Scriptural accounts fall into this category of belief, since no one can go back in time and view the events described in scripture (147.5). Thus for Augustine there are two ways of knowing: by “sight” (physical or mental) and by faith.7 However, Augustine even regards faith as a type of sight, since the belief is seen by the mind although the object of belief is not. He writes, “We are correctly said to see mentally what we believe, even though it is not present to our senses. . . . Faith itself is certainly seen by the mind, although what is believed by faith is not seen.”8 Therefore, God might be “seen” in faith by the mind, although God cannot be seen by bodily eyes. Yet even this vision of God in faith is properly a vision of the faith itself, and not of God as the object of faith. In this way, the theophanies involve multiple types of vision: the reader of scripture might see or perceive God in faith, even as the patriarchs themselves both saw the visible forms under which God appeared and perceived God’s invisible presence inwardly. To clarify this inward perception, Augustine further defines intellectual vision in the final book of his commentary on Genesis, De Genesi ad litteram (completed ca. 415), in which he examines the “proper meaning” of the first three chapters of Genesis.9 He refines his classification of the three types of vision, given earlier in Contra Adimantum, and builds upon his interpretation of Exodus 33 in Epistle 147. While most of the commentary concerns the interpretation of Genesis 1–3, in Book 12 Augustine considers the nature of “paradise” described by Paul in 2 Corinthians 12, in which Paul describes an ecstatic expe-

7 Contrast Augustine’s understanding of faith here with that of De vera religione, discussed in chapter four. In the earlier work, Augustine largely focuses upon how faith is a temporal remedy for purging the mind, making it fit to perceive truth rationally. Here, he emphasizes more that faith is a means of knowing, whether of historical details or of God’s actions. 8 Ep. 147.8: Etiam recte credita, etsi non adsint sensibus nostris, videre mente dicamur . . . fides ipsa mente utique videtur, quamvis hoc fide credatur, quod non videtur. 9 Unless otherwise noted, English translations are from On Genesis, trans. Edmund Hill, O.P., The Works of Saint Augustine 1.13 (Hyde Park, N.Y.: New City Press, 2002). Latin text is from: Sancti Aureli Augustini Opera: De Genesi ad Litteram Libri Duodecim, ed. Joseph Zycha, CSEL 28.1 (Vienna: Bibliopola Academiae Litterarum Caesareae, 1894). The use of “literal” refers to the “proper meaning of the events,” rather than allegory. While the commentary ad litteram stands in contrast to his earlier anti-Manichean commentary in Genesis, De Genesi adversus Manichaeos (388/89), much of the work concerns figurative usage and interpretation.

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rience of a man was “caught up” to paradise or the “third heaven.” By relating this ecstatic vision to Moses’ vision of God “face to face,” Augustine further clarifies his understanding of the possibility of seeing God in this life. His description of the three types of vision is clearer and more precise in this later work, although it is substantially similar to that of Contra Adimantum. Here Augustine names the three types corporale, referring to bodily vision; spiritale, referring to those bodily images which the mind “sees”; and intellectuale, referring to the apprehension of intellectual truth apart from bodily sensation or images. As with the three types in Contra Adimantum, the first two are involved in most biblical narratives in which God is seen under a created form or in prophetic vision, while the third alone is a true vision of the invisible God. The first type of vision, corporale, refers to that which the bodily eyes perceive (Gn. litt. 12.7.16). Considering the theophanies, Augustine identifies this type with Abraham’s vision of the visitors at Mamre and Moses’ vision of the burning bush. As such, this is the vision of bodily phenomena without necessarily understanding what might be represented or indicated by such phenomena. God’s invisible substance, of course, is excluded from this vision. Augustine’s use of spiritale for the second type of vision is potentially confusing, given the range of meanings of spiritus and its usual opposition to corpus. Here, however, Augustine’s use of spiritale is explicitly limited to Paul’s usage in 1 Corinthians 14:14, “For if I pray in a tongue, my spirit prays, but my mind is unfruitful” (Si enim oravero lingua, spiritus meus orat; mens autem mea infructuosa est). Thus, spiritale refers to what is not yet understood with the mind; with respect to vision, it is the mind’s vision of images impressed upon it rather than actual bodily perception. Further, Augustine interprets lingua as metaphor for a signs or images of things which require intellectual vision to be understood (12.8.19: indicat eam se linguam hoc loco appellare, ubi sunt significationes velut imagines rerum ac similitudines, quae ut intellegantur indigent mentis obtutu). Thus, spiritale vision here especially refers to symbolic visions, such as the visions of Pharaoh and Nebuchadnezzar that required the prophetic interpretations of Joseph and Daniel (12.9.20). Augustine’s focus on signficationes and their need of interpretation in the second type of vision compares with his identification of the second type with figures in Contra Adimantum (28.2: figurate, non proprie, multa dicuntur; ita etiam figurate multa monstrantur).

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The third type of vision Augustine calls intellectuale, since it involves the intellect’s apprehension of intelligible realities such as the affections of the soul and even the mind itself.10 These intelligible things are those that “are neither bodies nor bear any forms similar to those of bodies” (12.24.50: quae neque sunt corpora nec ullas gerunt formas similes corporum; trans. modified). While in Contra Adimantum Augustine lists truth and wisdom as preeminent examples of what may be seen with this type of vision, in De Genesi ad litteram Augustine emphasizes love. He uses the example of the scriptural command to love one’s neighbor as a way to explain the three types of vision: the first involves reading the words and seeing the letters with the eyes of the body, the second involves calling to mind the image of one’s neighbor, and the third involves understanding what it means to love (12.6.15). Such intellectual vision occurs “through the charity of the Holy Spirit,” ultimately that one might see and hear “ineffably” the very substance of God and the Word of God.11 This vision of course encompasses truth, wisdom, virtue, the mind— all intelligible realities that cannot be seen either with bodily eyes or through images, and all greater in goodness than bodily things that pass away or images that can deceive without proper understanding. Yet, above all, vision of such things is oriented toward love as its proper end. Augustine writes of the possibility of being in an ecstatic state in which one does not see bodily images but intellectual things: [One] may be rapt away from [bodily likenesses] to be carried up to that region, so to say, of things intellectual or intelligible. There, without any bodily likeness the pure transparent truth is perceived, overcast by no clouds of false opinions. There the virtues of the soul are not a matter of hard labor or toil. . . . There the one and only and all-embracing virtue is to love what you may see, the ultimate bliss to possess what you love.12

10 Gn. litt. 12.24.50: Ipsa mens et omnis animae affectio bona, cui contraria sunt eius vitia. 11 Gn. litt. 12.34.67: Tertium vero quod mente conspicitur ita secreta et remota et omnino abrepta a sensibus carnis atque mundata, ut ea, quae in illo caelo sunt, et ipsam Dei substantiam Verbumque Deum, per quod facta sunt omnia, per caritatem Spiritus Sancti ineffabiliter valeat videre et audire. 12 Gn. litt. 12.26.54: Ab ipsis rapiatur ut in illam quasi regionem intellectualium vel intellegibilium subvehatur, ubi sine ulla corporis similitudine perspicua veritas cernitur, nullis opinionum falsarum nebulis offuscatur, ibi virtutes animae non sunt operosae ac laboriosae. . . . Una ibi et tota virtus est amare quod videas et summa felicitas habere quod amas.

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Thus intellectual vision is ordered to love, assisted by the Holy Spirit, moving one to love fully what one desires above all else. The end of this vision of charity is God, and therefore this is the type of vision by which one may see the glory of the Lord (12.26.54). As discussed in the Contra Adimantum, the types of vision are interrelated; presumably one needs bodily vision to produce images of bodily things in the spirit, and certainly when one sees bodily things with the eyes, the images of these things are impressed upon the mind or the memory (Gn. litt. 12.24.51). Further, to understand what is seen, either by the bodily eyes or by the spirit’s perception of bodily images, one needs the discernment of the intellect. All of this occurs in “one and the same soul” (in eadem anima fiant visiones, 12.24.51). Thus the processes of vision are united in the human subject, not merely divided by faculties. Yet, the types of vision are ordered from bodily to spiritual to intellectual, in increasing value, even as bodily vision might precede the others temporally. This order is primarily due to the dependence of the lower types upon the higher: just as it is impossible to have bodily vision without also having the images seen impressed upon the spirit, so spiritual vision is relatively meaningless without the judgment of intellectual vision (12.24.51). For, Augustine writes, as the dream of Pharaoh was senseless without the interpretation of Joseph (12.9.20), so spiritual vision depends upon intellectual vision for its coherence and value. However, intellectual vision may exist independently of the other two types (12.24.51). Applying types of vision to the theophanies Augustine uses these types of vision to understand more precisely what the patriarchs saw in the theophanies, especially that of Abraham at Mamre (Gen. 18). He typically stresses both bodily and intellectual vision in the theophanies, thereby safeguarding divine invisibility and yet demonstrating that the theophanies involve an encounter with God mediated through visible things. Writing late in his life (ca. 427) against the Homoian bishop Maximinus, Augustine uses the distinction between bodily and intellectual vision to argue against Maximinus’ view that the Son was seen in the theophanies. He writes, We cannot deny that God was seen by Abraham. Scripture, which is most worthy of our belief, states this clearly, when it says, “God was seen by Abraham at the oak of Mambre” (Gen. 18:1). Even here it is not clearly stated whether it is the Father or the Son. But when scripture

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As in De Trinitate, Augustine reads the Mamre narrative as an indication of the Trinity (cf. Trin. 2.4.20), yet he claims one should not specify more precisely which person or persons of the Trinity were seen if the narrative itself is unclear. He also claims that when Abraham saw the three men, he saw God with the eyes of his heart,14 an allusion to the spiritual vision of God, whereas in De Trinitate 2.21 Augustine merely says that Abraham “addresses one man as Lord while he sees three” (tres visi sint, uni domino illic loquitur Abraham). Here Augustine makes a significant distinction in the historical event of the Mamre theophany: Abraham saw one thing, but understood another. More specifically, he saw three human beings with his bodily eyes, but he perceived God in them with the eyes of his heart, thus affirming two levels of perception or “vision” in Abraham, physical and intellectual.15 Therefore, in the theophany Abraham sees the visible form that God assumes, and understands God’s presence intellectually within the form. Augustine makes this same distinction in the Genesis 19 narrative of Lot speaking to the Lord at Sodom, even more explicitly stressing the idea of God present in the visitors. Lot saw two angels but addressed the Lord in the singular when he asked to be saved from the destruction of the town (c. Max. 2.26.6–7). Therefore, Augustine reasons, Maximinus errs in thinking the three visitors were the Lord and two angels who went on to Sodom. Rather, both Abraham and Lot perceived God in the visitors while also recognizing them as human beings, their outward visible appearance. Augustine writes, 13 c. Max. 2.26.5, emphasis added: Visum esse Deum Abrahae negare non possumus. Scriptura quippe fidelissima apertissime hoc loquitur, dicens: Visus est autem illi Deus ad quercum Mambre. Sed neque hic expressum est, utrum Pater an Filius. Cum autem narraret Scriptura, quomodo ei visus set Deus, tres viros illi apparuisse declarat, in quibus magis ipsa Trinitas, qui unus est Deus, recte intelligi potest. Denique tres videt, et non dominos, sed Dominum appellat, quoniam Trinitas tres quidem paersonae sunt, sed unus Dominus Deus. 14 c. Max. 2.26.7: Tres viros . . . quos oculis corporis vidit, id est, Deum, non corporis, sed cordis oculis vidit, id est, intellexit atque cognovit. 15 See also qu. Gn. 33 and 41, where Augustine says that both Abraham and Lot sensed the Lord in the visitors while also recognizing them as human beings.

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Though both of them, that is, Abraham and Lot, considered those who were angels to be humans, they still understood that God was present in them, as he was; they did not think that he was present when he was not. What, then, is the point of this visible trinity and intelligible unity but to teach us that the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit are three in such a way that all together they are not three gods or three lords, but one Lord God?16

Thus there are several realities that are encountered and perceived by Abraham and Lot: they see human beings who are angels, and they understand that God is in the visitors.17 The realities of this event in turn have a didactic function: to teach those who read the story that God is triune. At the level of the historical event, Augustine does not describe Mamre as a figure of the Trinity, but as a real encounter with God, understood correctly as present but not seen. Considering the theophanies to Moses, Augustine interprets Moses’ request to see God (Exod. 33:13) as an indication that previously Moses had only “seen” God under visible forms, and now he wants to see God intellectually. In De Genesi ad litteram, Augustine states that Moses’ request demonstrates his desire for intellectual vision, not that of bodies or likenesses of bodies (12.27.55). Such a vision is “per speciem suam,” through God’s very “form” or substance. Further, in Quaestiones in Heptateuchum Augustine reinterprets Moses’ request to see God “clearly” (manifeste, in the Old Latin; Exod. 33:13), noting that the Septuagint text has γνωστῶς and not φανερῶς, and therefore a better Latin translation would be scienter. Thus the text would read, “show yourself to me, that I might see you with the mind.”18 Augustine’s focus on Moses’ desire to see God manifeste is typical of his exegesis; in De Trinitate 2.27, Augustine takes manifeste as an indication that Moses desired to see God’s substance rather than through “creature 16 c. Max. 2.26.7, emphasis added: Cum ambo, id est, et Abraham et Loth, homines putarent eos qui angeli erant; Deum vero in eis intelligerent qui erat, non putarent esse qui non erat. Quid sibi ergo vult ista visibilis Trinitas et intelligibilis unitas, nisi ut nobis insinuaretur quod ita tres essent Pater et Filius et Spiritus sanctus, ut tamen simul non tres dii et domini essent, sed unus Dominus Deus? 17 See also qu. Gn. 41, where Augustine says that Lot perceived the visitors both as angels and human beings. 18 qu. Exod. 151: Potuit ergo fortasse aptius dici: si inveni gratiam in conspectu tuo, ostende mihi temet ipsum, scienter videam te. Augustine’s reading of Exodus 33:13 is the Old Latin, which differs subtiantially from the Vulgate. The Old Latin reads: si ergo inveni gratiam in conspectu tuo ostende mihi temetipsum manifeste ut videam te. The Vulgate, however, reads: si ergo inveni gratiam in conspectuo tuo ostende mihi viam tuam ut sciam te.

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control” (cf. ep. 147.20; Gn. litt. 12.27.55). Here Augustine adds an explicitly intellectual dimension to the biblical text, thus connecting it with his reflections on intellectual vision in De Genesi ad litteram 12. The impact of his use of scienter here is much the same as his reflections on manifeste in the earlier works: the divine nature cannot be sensed with the bodily senses, earlier “manifestations” to Moses were all accomplished by the assumption of bodily forms, God is invisible and cannot be contained in any place.19 However, his terminology— retranslating the Septuagint text—is unique, and it illustrates his connection of the passage with intellectual vision. Augustine further associates the Exodus 33 narrative with intellectual vision, which he finds fulfilled in the testimony of Numbers 12:6–8, “[the Lord] appeared to the other prophets in a vision and in a dream, but to Moses by a form and not by enigmas… ‘and he saw the glory of the Lord.’”20 This association between Exodus 33 and Numbers 12 was also made by Irenaeus, whereas Tertullian saw the fulfillment of Exodus 33 in the transfiguration. Augustine’s association of Exodus 33 with Numbers 12, also developed briefly in De Genesi ad litteram 12.27.55, occurs in the context of ecstatic visions. He reasons that such visions might either involve images of bodily things or intellectual vision (Gn. litt. 12.26.53), and he suggests that Moses’ desire to see God beyond the visible forms of the theophanies, coupled with the testimony of Numbers 12 that Moses saw God’s glory, indicates that Moses, the most faithful servant of God, did see God not through a form but through an ecstatic intellectual vision in which he perceived God’s own speciem (ep. 147.32, Gn. litt. 12.27.55).21

19 qu. Exod. 151: Quibus verbis satis ostendit Moyses, quod non ita videbat deum in illa tanta familiaritate conspectus, ut desiderabat videre, quoniam illae omnes visiones dei, quae mortalium praebebantur aspectibus et ex quibus fiebat sonus, quo mortalis adtingeretur auditus, sic exhibebantur adsumpta, sicut deus volebat, specie qua volebat, ut non in eis ipsa ullo sensu corporis sentiretur divina natura, quae invisibilis ubique tota est et nullo continetur loco. 20 In ep. 147.32 Augustine first paraphrases Numbers 12:6–8 and then quotes 12:8: Ubi dominus . . . dicit aliis prophetis in visione se apparere et in somno, Moysi autem per speciem, non per aenigmata . . . et gloriam domini vidit. Translation is modified. 21 Here per speciem refers to seeing God’s very form or nature, what 1 John 3:2 describes as seeing God “as God is” (sicuti est). This stands in contrast to Augustine’s use of the quotation from Ambrose that God was seen under the form (ea specie) that God chose, not in God’s very nature. Augustine’s use of species, much like his use of forma with reference to Philippians 2, follows the biblical usage in describing both God’s nature and aspect.

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Yet, however exceptional and full Moses’ vision of God was, its very uniqueness underscores the general rule: that in this life, in these “present conditions,” no one can see God. That vision belongs to “another and better life,” namely, after the resurrection of the dead, when the body will be transformed to some kind of spiritual body (1 Cor. 15:42–57), when the mind will no longer know in part but know fully (1 Cor. 13:12), when those transformed will see God as God is (1 John 3:2). A foretaste of the life to come, ecstatic experiences are more truly proleptic than part of this present life, and therefore their occasional occurrences in scripture teach that God cannot be seen with the bodily eyes in this life. For as Augustine asserts, Christians in this life know Christ in faith (147.35) and understand his love in the cross (147.34); to see God in this life is to believe that God’s love was made visible in Christ crucified. Rejecting the literal christological reading Augustine’s growing emphasis on intellectual vision complements his shift away from interpreting the theophanies as manifestations of the Son. Yet as in De Trinitate, he usually does not disavow the literal christological reading outright, perhaps out of deference for figures like Ambrose and Hilary, whose exegesis influences Augustine in other aspects. However, in one notable instance, Augustine fully and explicitly rejects the literal christological reading to the point of mockery. After a debate in 427 with the Homoian bishop Maximinus (recorded in Augustine’s Conlatio con Maximino), Augustine’s rejoinder, Contra Maximinum,22 attacks Maximinus’ claim that the Son was seen in the Old Testament (conl. Max. 15.26). His overt critique, directed against a Homoian argument for the Son’s difference from the Father, illustrates how much Augustine has shifted his thinking on the theophanies over the course of his writings. As is characteristic of Homoian theology, Maximinus argues from the scriptures and eschews philosophical and extra-biblical

22 English quotations, unless otherwise noted, are taken from Arianism and Other Heresies, trans. Roland J. Teske, S.J., The Works of Saint Augustine 1.18 (Hyde Park, N.Y.: New City Press, 1995). Latin text is from: Sancti Aurelii Augustini Opera Omnia: Collatio cum Maximino Arianorum Episcopo; Contra Eumdem Maximinum Arianum Libri II, ed. J.-P. Migne, PL 42 (Paris, 1841).

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arguments.23 Primarily he argues that there is only one true God, the Father alone, which means that the Son is subordinate to the Father (conl. Max. 15.10, 25). By extension, he addresses the invisibility of God to show the uniqueness of the Father. He claims that “we worship one God, unborn, unmade, invisible, who has not come down to human contacts and human flesh” (conl. Max. 13: A nobis unus colitur Deus, innatus, infectus, invisibilis, qui ad humana contagia et ad humanam carnem non descendit). For Maximinus, any scriptural descriptions of the invisible God refer to the Father, while passages describing God’s visible manifestations refer to the Son. Echoing the view of Justin that the Father does not descend to interact with human beings, Maximinus further asserts the Father’s incomprehensibility to even the Son.24 In other words, for Maximinus, the Son’s visibility, as

23 R.P.C. Hanson writes that while Neo-Arianism relied on “Aristotelian logic and late Platonic philosophy,” Homoianism can be distinguished by its relative lack of philosophical interest; The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1988), 557. Thus the two groups argued their convictions on different grounds, and it is not surprising that Maximinus here wants to restrict Augustine’s arguments to the scriptures. As Maximinus says, “If you produce from the divine scriptures something that we all share, we shall have to listen. But those words which are not found in the scriptures are under no circumstance accepted by us” (conl. Max. 1, emphasis added: Si quid enim de divinis Scripturis protuleris, quod commune est cum omnibus, necesse est ut audiamus: eae vero voces quae extra Scripturam sunt, nullo casu a nobis suscipiuntur). At times in the Conlatio Maximinus criticizes Augustine for being overly philosophical or rhetorical in his arguments; see, for example, 15.5 and 15.8. In addition, at the outset of the debate Maximinus identifies his faith with the Council of Ariminum of 359 (conl. Max. 2), asserting that, “I wanted the decree of the Council of Ariminum to be present, not to excuse myself, but to show the authority of those fathers who handed on to us in accord with the divine scriptures the faith which they learned from the divine scriptures” (conl. Max. 4: Non ad excusandum me Ariminensis concilii decretum interesse volui, sed ut ostendam auctoritatem Patrum, qui secundum divinas Scripturas fidem nobis tradiderunt illam quam a divinis Scripturis didicerunt). Hanson also notes that Homoian theology is marked by its reliance on the creed of the Second Council of Sirmium (357); see The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God, 558. 24 According to Maximinus, even the Son cannot comprehend the incomprehensible Father; in 15.9 he says of how the Son “sees” the Father: “God the Father alone is invisible, because he does not have a superior who can see him. . . . Your Holiness suggested that we answer whether the Son sees the Father. We read in the gospel, ‘Not that anyone has seen the Father, but he who has come from God has seen the Father.’ Hence, he saw the Father, but he saw the incomprehensible. . . . The Father sees the Son as the Son; the Son sees the Father as the immense Father” (emphasis added; unus invisibilis Deus Pater, qui superiorem non habet a quo circuminspiciatur. . . . Et quia suggessit Religio tua, ut ad hoc demus responsum, si Filius videat Patrem, legimus in Evangelio: Non quia vidit Patrem quisquam, nisi qui est a Deo, hic vidit Patrem. Vidit ergo Patrem, sed vidit incapabilem. . . . Videt enim Pater Filium ut Filium: Filius videt Patrem ut Patrem immensum).

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indicated by his Old Testament manifestations, reveals the difference between the Son and the Father in their very being. Faced with a stronger form of subordinationism that Augustine had encountered in the theophany exegesis of Ambrose and other predecessors, he does not temper his criticism. He writes, You cannot find anywhere that Moses wrote, as you claim, that “from the first man,” Adam, “until the incarnation it was always the Son who was seen.” You say that he wrote this in the book of Genesis—a claim so false that it is ridiculous.25

Specifically Augustine ridicules the notion that Genesis contains the history of events up to the incarnation or that Moses could have recorded such later events. Yet, he also denies that Moses ever wrote of the Son being seen. In the following sections (C. Max. 2.26.2–9), Augustine takes up each scriptural passage that Maximinus interprets as a manifestation of the Son: Genesis 1:26–27 (“Let us make humankind in our image”), Genesis 2:17 (“Let us make a helper for him”), Genesis 3:10 (Adam hears the Lord’s voice in the garden), Genesis 18–19 (God appears to Abraham at Mamre and to Lot at Sodom), and Genesis 32:24–30 (Jacob wrestles with the angel ). According to Augustine’s reasoning, these texts either do not describe visible appearances of God (Gen. 1–3) or do not clearly state whether the God who appeared was the Father or the Son (c. Max. 2.26.5, regarding Gen. 18–19), or he argues that Christ was prefigured by the angel rather than seen himself (c. Max. 2.26.9 on Gen. 32). Thus Augustine concludes that the various Genesis examples cannot be regarded as visions of the Son. In denying that these texts explicitly describe appearances of the Son—indeed, in calling such a claim “ridiculous”—Augustine also distances himself from the very argumentation and exegesis used by Hilary, Novatian, and Justin. Hilary claims that Moses confessed the divinity of the Son (Trin. 4.15–21), that Moses proclaims “God and God,” i.e., the Father and the Son (Trin. 4.22), and that through Moses the Son declared his divinity (Trin. 5.36). While these claims are not exactly the same as Maximinus’s view, they are similar enough to note

25

c. Max. 2.26.1: Non enim legis alicubi scripsisse Moysen, sicut dicis, quod ab illo primo homine Adam usque ad ipsam incarnationem semper Filius visus est. Hoc enim eum describere pronuntias in Geneseos libro, quod ita falsum est, ut etiam ridiculum sit.

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how much Augustine shifts away from this aspect of Hilary’s teaching. However, it is only late in Augustine’s life, and against a Homoian opponent, that Augustine clearly disavows the literal christological intepretation of his predecessors. Theophanies, prophecy, and signs As Augustine’s thought on the theophanies emphasizes the mediation of visible forms and the distinction between bodily and intellectual vision, his readings of several theophany narratives increasingly stress their prophetic meaning. In particular, he consistently interprets both Genesis 32, the story of Jacob wrestling with a man, and Exodus 33, Moses standing in a cleft of a rock while God passes by, as prophecies related to Christ and the church. When Augustine considers Genesis 32 in Quaestiones in Heptateuchum, he regards it as a prophecy of Christ and the Israelites who demanded Christ’s crucifixion but later believed in him, receiving his blessing (q. 104). Augustine’s treatment of this story is quite brief, merely noting that this “magna prophetia” about Christ foretells how the Israelites are both lame (claudus) among the nations and blessed, as Jacob was wounded and blessed by the angel.26 Here Augustine reads the theophany not as a vision of God, but as a sign of a future historical event.27 Likewise, in Quaestiones in Heptateuchum Augustine develops the figurative interpretation of Exodus 33 that he introduced in De Trinitate. Regarding the passing of God’s glory by Moses, who glimpses the back of God from the cleft of the rock, Augustine employs a prophetic interpretation of Christ and the church, as he does in most of his earlier works.28 He explicitly calls the narrative a “great prophecy”

26 qu. Gn. 104: Quod ab illo angelo desiderat benedici Iacob, cui luctando praevaluit, magna est de Christo prophetia. . . . Praevaluit enim Iacob Christo vel potius praevalere visus est per eos Israhelitas, a quibus crucifixus est Christus; et ab eo tamen benedicitur in eis Israhelitis. . . . Unus ergo atque Iacob et claudus et benedictus: claudus in latitudine femoris tamquam in multitudine generis, de quibus dictum est: et claudicaverunt a semitis suis; benedictus autem in eis, de quibus dictum est: reliquiae per electionem gratiae salvae factae sunt. 27 See also c. Max 2.26.9, where Augustine emphatically asserts that the angel who wrestled with Jacob was not Christ but a figure of him. 28 Likely Augustine’s prophetic interpretation is a result of the development of his understanding of “prophetic history,” in which the divinely inspired interpretation of historical events unites an understanding of the past with prophecy of the future. Robert Markus traces this development from De Vera Religione (390) through the 390s to Augustine’s reflections on prophecy and vision in De Genesi ad Litteram 12

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of Christ’s passing over from the world in his passion and resurrection (q. 154.1). Here Moses is a type of Israel, proclaiming on the Lord’s name, Christ, among the nations.29 Further, that Moses stood in the opening of a rock foretells the establishment of the church (Matt. 16:18; q. 154.6). Augustine also compares Moses to the Israelites who believed in Christ after his passion and resurrection; their eyes were “covered” before his passion, because they didn’t believe and wanted him to be crucified. But they saw his “back” (posteriora), that is, they believed in him after (posterius) his resurrection and ascension. The content of his prophetic interpretation here is virtually identical to that of De Trinitate 2.28–31, but there he tends to use the language of figure, while here he favors “prophecy” and “type.” In addition to his emphasis on figures, prophecy, and types, he also speaks of other theophany narratives using the language of signs and indication. When Augustine read the Mamre and Sodom theophanies (Gen. 18–19) in Contra Maximinum, he emphasizes that the narrative insinuates the trinity and unity of God through Abraham and Lot’s understanding of God present within the three visitors.30 In addition, Augustine interprets one aspect of the Sodom narrative in a manner that more clearly involves signs, not manifestations, of divine persons. Insisting that Abraham and Lot did not perceive three or two gods but only one, Augustine writes, I think that the Son and the Holy Spirit are signified by the angels [who go to Sodom], because those angels said that they were sent, and of the Trinity which is God, the Father alone is not said to have been sent, while the Son and the Holy Spirit are said to have been sent.31

and his understanding of history in De civitate Dei. See Markus, “History, Prophecy, and Inspiration,” in Saeculum: History and Society in the Theology of St. Augustine (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970), 187–196. 29 qu. Exod. 154.2: “Et vocabo nomine domini in conspectu tuo,” tamquam in conspectu populi Israhel, cuius Moyses cum haec audiret typum gerebat. In conspectu enim gentis ipsius ubique dispersae vocatur dominus Christus in omnibus gentibus. 30 c. Max. 2.26.7, emphasis added: Cum ambo, id est, et Abraham et Loth, homines putarent eos qui angeli erant; Deum vero in eis intelligerent qui erat, non putarent esse qui non erat. Quid sibi ergo vult ista visibilis Trinitas et intelligibilis unitas, nisi ut nobis insinuaretur quod ita tres essent Pater et Filius et Spiritus sanctus, ut tamen simul non tres dii et domini essent, sed unus Dominus Deus? 31 c. Max. 2.26.7, emphasis added: Mihi videntur per angelos significari Filius et Spiritus sanctus: quoniam se illi angeli missos esse dixerunt; et de Trinitate quae Deus est, solus Pater non legitur missus; leguntur autem missi et Filius et Spiritus sanctus.

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This is the only instance in this whole treatise, geared against Maximinus’s view that the Son was manifested in the Old Testament, in which Augustine has specified divine persons in the theophanies. However, his emphasis on signs allows him to maintain a trinitarian reading while dissociating himself from Maximinus’ view. In short, Augustine’s use of signs in interpreting this narrative enables him to reject the traditional literal christological reading and yet connect the meaning of these narratives to Christian belief in the triune God. Increasingly, this same emphasis on signs will also help Augustine to connect the theophanies to the life of faith, in which the vision of God is mediated through scripture, sacrament, and church. How is God seen? Mediation, sign theory, and the incarnation With Augustine’s focus on the theophanies as signs, he develops what is perhaps his most fundamental contribution to patristic theophany narrative exegesis: the vision of God, although interior and intellectual, is, for most people, facilitated through the mediation of visible and tangible signs. This is due not to God’s own being, which is invisible and spiritual, but because human beings learn through their bodily senses even as they seek to transcend purely sensory knowledge. Further, human beings will never completely cast off life in the body, even as they hope for the body’s spiritual transformation in the resurrection. As such, Augustine consistently values mediation in spiritual encounter: in the theophanies, in the incarnation of the Word, and in the words of scripture, and in the sacramental life of the body of Christ, the church. In this context, Augustine further explains his ideas of how God was seen through the mediation of created signs. Two major works, De civitate Dei and De doctrina Christiana, illustrate how Augustine conceives of the theophanies as signs that make vision of the invisible God possible. Responding to accusations that Christianity’s rejection of traditional Roman religion was to blame for the sack of Rome by the Goths in 410, Augustine writes De civitate Dei (413/427) in large part as a critique of pagan religion and philosophy, notably of Porphyry.32 In par-

32 See the opening of Augustine’s preface to the whole work, in which he states his purpose in writing: Gloriosissimam civitatem Dei sive in hoc temporum cursu, cum inter impios peregrinatur ex fide vivens, sive in illa stabilitate sedis aeternae, quam

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ticular, Augustine argues against Porphyry for the value of the body in spiritual experience. Regarding the vision of God, Augustine further articulates how he thinks God might be seen both in sacred history (Book 10) and in eternity (Book 22). In both cases Augustine affirms how it might be possible for the human person to encounter the invisible God through bodily vision, either through signs or by the spiritual transformation of the resurrected body. In Book 10, Augustine articulates more fully than in earlier works his ideas on the signification and communication of God in the theophanies by means of creatures. Writing on the worship of the one true God, Augustine considers the miracles that God works through angels (10.12), which brings him to the related but distinct topic of God’s visible appearances to the patriarchs. After establishing that God works miracles visibly in heaven and earth (10.12),33 Augustine writes, Nor should it upset us that although God is invisible, it is related that God often appeared visibly to the patriarchs. For as a sound, by which a thought made in the silence of the understanding is heard, is not the thought itself, so also a form [species] by which God who is invisible in nature is seen, is not God. Yet, God was seen in that bodily form, just as that thought itself is heard in the sound of the voice; and the patriarchs knew that they saw the invisible God in a bodily form that itself was not God. For Moses used to speak with God and yet he said, “If I have found favor before you, show yourself to me, that I might see you knowingly.”34

nunc exspectat per patientiam, quoadusque iustitia convertatur in iudicium, deinceps adeptura per excellentiam victoria ultima et pace perfecta, hoc opere instituto et mea ad te promissione debito defendere adversus eos, qui conditori eius deos suos praeferunt, fili carissime Marcelline, suscepi, magnum opus et arduum, sed Deus adiutor noster est. Latin text is from: Aurelii Augustini Opera, Pars XIV, 1–2: De Civitate Dei Libri XXII, CCSL 47–48 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1955). Unless otherwise noted English translations are taken from Concerning the City of God against the Pagans, trans. Henry Bettenson (Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books, 1972). 33 civ. Dei 10.12: Quapropter Deus, qui fecit visibilia caelum et terram, non dedignatur facere visibilia miracula in caelo vel terra, quibus ad se invisibilem colendum excitet animam adhuc visibilibus deditam. 34 civ. Dei 10.13, translation mine: Nec movere debet, quod, cum sit invisibilis, saepe visibiliter patribus apparuisse memoratur. Sicut enim sonus, quo auditur sententia in silentio intellegentiae constituta, non est hoc quod ipsa: ita et species, qua visus est Deus in natura invisibili constitutus, non erat quod ipse. Verum tamen ipse in eadem specie corporali videbatur, sicut illa sententia ipsa in sono vocis auditur; nec illi ignorabant invisibilem Deum in specie corporali, quod ipse non erat, se videre. Nam et loquebatur cum loquente Moyses et ei tamen dicebat: Si inveni gratiam ante te, ostende mihi temetipsum, scienter ut videam te.

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This passage is striking for its comparison of sound production with God’s visible appearances to the patriarchs. Some of Augustine’s claims here are familiar from his earlier writings on the theophanies: the invisible God appeared under a visible form, what was seen was the bodily form and not the divine nature, and yet it can be said truly that God was seen.35 However, Augustine’s comparison of the theophanies to sound production in De civitate Dei introduces elements of his sign theory, as expounded in De doctrina Christiana, thus making clearer how he thinks God was encountered in the theophanies. By using the analogy of sound production, Augustine moves toward an even stronger understanding of the theophanies as visible signs that make present what they signify. In De doctrina Christiana (396/426–27), Augustine’s fullest exposition of signs and scriptural interpretation, Augustine examines the nature of words and sounds as signs that communicate thought and intention. He writes of signs that human beings use, which can be directed at any of the five senses but most often involve hearing (2.3.4).36 These signs indicate the will or thought of the person giving the sign. He writes, We do not have any purpose in signifying, that is, in giving a sign, other than to bring out and transfer to someone else’s mind what we, the givers of the sign, have in mind ourselves.37

Such signs may be non-verbal, such as musical sounds, but words are the most common signs (2.3.4). Yet, both verbal and non-verbal signs express the intent or will of the person or creature producing the sign, originating in the giver’s animus and communicating to the recipient’s animus.

35 See, for example, Augustine’s use of Ambrose in ep. 147.19: “God appeared in that form which his will chose, even as his nature remained hidden” (apparet ea specie quam voluntas elegerit, etiam latente natura). 36 doc. Chr. 2.3.4: Signorum igitur quibus inter se homines sua sensa communicant, quaedam pertinent ad oculorum sensum, pleraque ad aurium, paucissima ad caeteros sensus. Latin text is from: Aurelii Augustini Opera, Pars IV, 1: De Doctrina Christiana; De Vera Religione, ed. Joseph Martin and K.-D. Daur, CCSL 32 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1962). 37 doc. Chr. 2.2.3: Nec ulla causa est nobis significandi, id est signi dandi, nisi ad depromendum et trajiciendum in alterius animum id quod animo gerit is qui signum dat. Unless otherwise noted, English translations are taken from Teaching Christianity, trans. Edmund Hill, O.P., The Works of Saint Augustine 1.11 (Hyde Park, New York: New City Press, 1996).

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Augustine’s use of sonus and sententia in De civitate Dei 10.13 expresses the same understanding of signs that is found in De doctrina Christiana 2.2.3. In both, the sign originates in the mind (animus, intellegentia) in order to convey the thought to another person or creature. Thus, the sign conveys the reality but is not identical to it. In the context of the theophanies that Augustine discusses in De civitate Dei 10.13, the sight seen by Abraham or Moses or other patriarchs is clearly not God, yet by it the invisible God is seen. Augustine does not explain this at length, but his comparison to sound production suggests that the species visus signifies God just as a sonus signifies the sententia. Therefore God is both seen and not seen in the theophanies: God is seen (Verum tamen ipse in eadem specie corporali videbatur) because the signifying species corporale adequately expresses the presence of God to the recipient, but God is not seen because the divine nature itself remains invisible. In another section of De doctrina, Augustine writes more specifically of how sign production compares to the incarnation: How did Wisdom come, if not by the Word becoming flesh and dwelling amongst us? It is something like when we talk; in order for what we have in mind to reach the minds of our hearers through their ears of flesh, the word which we have in our thoughts becomes a sound, and is called speech. And yet this does not mean that our thought is turned into that sound, but while remaining undiminished in itself, it takes on the form of a spoken utterance by which to insert itself into their ears, without bearing the stigma of any change in itself. That is how the Word of God was not changed in the least, and yet became flesh, in order to dwell amongst us.38

Here Augustine’s main concern is to illustrate how the incarnation need not imply change in the Word. Yet, his description of sound production, so similar to the discussion in 2.2.3, can illuminate both the incarnation and the theophanies, and, in fact, the relation between the two.39 For Augustine regards both as phenomena in which God is

38 doc. Chr. 1.13.12: Quomodo venit, nisi quod Verbum caro factum est, et habitavit in nobis? Sicuti cum loquimur, ut id quod animo gerimus, in audientis animum per aures carneas illabatur, fit sonus verbum quod corde gestamus, et locutio vocatur; nec tamen in eumdem sonum cogitatio nostra convertitur, sed apud se manens integra, formam vocis qua se insinuet auribus, sine aliqua labe suae mutationis assumit: ita Verbum Dei non commutatum, caro tamen factum est, ut habitaret in nobis. 39 Note that in Sermon 12 Augustine lists many ways that God “speaks” to humanity: through scripture, prophets, ecstatic states, and also through the angels who spoke to the patriarchs.

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truly communicated, even as the two differ over the extent to which this communication is actually God’s own self. In both passages thought produces a sound that in turn communicates the thought to the hearer; yet, the thought remains distinct from the sound. In De civitate Dei 10 Augustine emphasizes that the sound perceived adequately expresses the thought but remains a different entity, while in De doctrina 1 Augustine stresses that the thought is not changed into sound in the process of sound production. In the first context, Augustine’s distinction explains how God is both seen and invisible; in the second, he explains how the Word can become something and yet remain unchanged. Thus in the theophanies, as in the incarnation, God’s reality (divine nature) is communicated within the sign (flesh) without being reducible to that flesh or changed into it. As mentioned earlier, Augustine’s use of sound production as an analogy for the theophanies suggests he is thinking of the latter as signs of the divinity. Yet, his use of sound production to discuss the incarnation suggests that his understanding of signs is more than mere symbols that signify entirely different, discrete realities. As Michael Cameron has demonstrated, Augustine’s understanding of signs in the 390s evolves from a disjunctive view, in which a sign signifies a separate thing, to a conjunctive view, in which the sign is joined to the reality that it signifies and, in fact, can mediate that reality.40 In the De doctrina 1 passage on the incarnation of the Word, his comparison of the Word to an audible sign of a thought is conjunctive, since the flesh of Christ is the Word, and it can neither be separated from nor reduced to his divinity. Similarly, Augustine’s use of sign theory in De civitate Dei 10.13 expresses a conjunctive understanding of the theophanies as signs. Because the visible sign is joined to the reality of God’s presence, the patriarchs can truly regard their experiences as visions of God even if what they actually saw was not God (nec illi ignorabant invisibilem

40 See Michael Cameron, “Augustine’s Construction of Figurative Exegesis Against the Donatists in the ‘Ennarrationes in Psalmos,’” (Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1996), chapters 1–3 for a comparison of Augustine’s early sign theory (chap. 1) to that of De doctrina (chap. 3) via Augustine’s christology (chap. 2). Cameron argues that christology and language have a “symbiotic, reflexive relationship” (157), so that Augustine’s increasing valuation of Christ’s humanity as both sign and reality (“an inexhaustible signum of the Word in heaven”) leads him to develop an understanding of language in which a linguistic sign is “an integral thing which may also act as a sign” (157).

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Deum in specie corporali, quod ipse non erat, se videre). That Augustine views the theophanies as conjunctive signs is significant both for being conjunctive, truly joining the sign and its res, and for signifying, stressing the mediation of the visible, created sign. This allows Augustine to articulate with much more specificity than Hilary that Abraham and Moses saw God, but only as God can be communicated to the world through sacramental mediation. Therefore, the theophanies are not simply visions of the Son due to the propriety of his nature or mission; rather, they teach that the triune God is encountered in the world through the mediation of creatures. This is as true of the Father as of the Son and Spirit, because the divinity itself can be perceived by the bodily senses as mediated through created signs. Therefore, for Augustine the visibility of the theophanies does not teach about the Son per se; rather, it teaches how God interacts with human beings in this world, in signs and wonders, in sacraments and in the Word made flesh. Augustine’s discussion of signs and sacrifice in De civitate Dei 10 further illuminates his ideas of how God might be seen in the Old Testament theophanies. He continues, The person of God himself appeared visibly, certainly not through his own substance, which always remains invisible to bodily eyes, but by means of certain signs (indiciis) through a creature subject to the Creator.41

Thus what was seen were the signs of creatures, and yet these signs conveyed the presence of God so truly that God was not merely signified but “appeared visibly.” Augustine writes at length in Book 10 about the nature of the ages before the incarnation as a time of “earthly promises” and of visible or carnal signs (sacramenta).42 His purpose is to demonstrate how God has used and continues to use such visible signs to raise human minds to invisible, divine realities.43

41 civ. Dei 10.15, translation mine: Persona ipsius Dei, non quidem per suam substantiam, quae semper corruptibilibus oculis invisibilis permanet, sed certis indiciis per subiectam Creatori creaturam visibiliter appareret. 42 civ. Dei 10.15. Haec autem lex distributione temporum data est, quae prius haberet, ut dictum est, promissa terrena, quibus tamen significarentur aeterna, quae visibilibus sacramentis celebrarent multi, intellegerent pauci. 43 civ. Dei 10.14: Sicut autem unius hominis, ita humani generis, quod ad Dei populum pertinet, recta eruditio per quosdam articulos temporum tamquam aetatum profecit accessibus, ut a temporalibus ad aeterna capienda et a visibilibus ad invisibilia surgeretur.

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The preeminent example of this is sacrifice: arguing against Porphyry, Augustine contends that the visible sacrifices of the Old Testament were appropriately offered to the one true God alone as a sign of the invisible sacrifice of one’s own self to God.44 Further, such visible sacrifice has not passed away in Christianity, but continues in the “daily sacrament” (10.20) of the eucharist, in which the church offers itself, the body of Christ, to God.45 Thus, there is a larger sacramental context to Book 10, in which the pairing of visible sign-invisible reality permeates history and contemporary Christian practice. This reality culminates in the sacrifice of Christ, offered in the church’s celebration of the eucharist. Yet, Augustine affirms the place of the “signs and miracles” of the dispensation of salvation, including the “visions of angels” (10.32). The whole impact of Book 10 suggests that the signs employed by God in earlier times—both before the giving of the law and under the law—as well as in the contemporary life of the church point to the mystery of Christ’s incarnation. This is why Book 10 of De civitate Dei, a discussion of angels and worship directed against Porphyry, includes extensive discussion of Christ. All of the signs discussed—theophanies, sacrifices, miracles—point to the ultimate theophany, sacrifice, and miracle: the Word made flesh, who humbles himself unto death in order to set many free. What does this suggest about the theophanies? First, they are part of a whole dispensation of salvation that uses sacraments and signs to orient people towards the mystery of the triune God’s communication of love and mercy in Christ, the Word made flesh. As such, Augustine invokes explicit terms and concepts of his sign theory to explain how God appeared to the patriarchs. Secondly, his understanding of the theophanies as signs suggests that they are capable of communicating the divine presence, not merely indicating it. Augustine stresses that God truly appeared and was seen, indicating that sign and reality were so conjoined that they cannot be separated into two discrete

44 civ. Dei 10.5: Nec quod ab antiquis patribus alia sacrificia facta sunt in victimis pecorum, quae nunc Dei populus legit, non facit, aliud intellegendum est, nisi rebus illis eas res fuisse significatas quae aguntur in nobis, ad hoc ut inhaereamus Deo et ad eumdem finem proximo consulamus. Sacrificium ergo visibile invisibilis sacrificii sacramentum, id est sacrum signum est. 45 civ. Dei 10.20: Cuius rei sacramentum cotidianum esse voluit Ecclesiae sacrificium, quae cum ipsius capitis corpus sit, se ipsam per ipsum discit offerre. Huius veri sacrificii multiplicia variaue signa erant sacrificia prisca sanctorum.

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phenomena. Therefore, God is seen in the theophanies as a thought is expressed by words, inseparably and inexhaustibly joined to the sign without being reducible to it. How will God be seen? The vision of God in eternity At the very end of the De civitate Dei, Augustine considers how the saints transformed in the resurrection might see God in eternity. In contrast to the theophanies, such vision involves not how the corruptible eye of this body could see God at Mamre, in the burning bush, on Mount Sinai, or other like examples, but rather whether the eye of the spiritual body might attain the promises of seeing God “as God is” (1 John 3:2) or “face to face” (1 Corinthians 13:12) in the life to come. First, underpinning Augustine’s discussion of the eyes of the spiritual body is his assumption that any such bodily vision of God complements the spiritual or intellectual vision of God in eternity. Referring to the most central verse in this line of interpretation, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God” (Matt. 5:8), Augustine understands that the saints will “always see God in the spirit” or with the “eyes of the heart.”46 Thus, he considers that “the question is, whether they will also see by the bodily eyes” (22.29.3: utrum videbunt et per oculos corporis cum eos apertos habebunt, inde quaestio est). Thus Augustine’s discussion in 22.29, focused mainly on the nature of vision of the eyes of the spiritual body, should be regarded as secondary to that intellectual or spiritual vision of the heart, for which no eyes are needed to perceive spiritual, immaterial realities. Nevertheless, Augustine ponders the eyes of the spiritual body in order to make sense of both scriptural promises to see God’s face, as well as the true bodiliness of resurrection and the life to come. For, writing against Porphyry, Augustine argues in Book 22 that the Christian understanding of true happiness, the vision of God, differs from Porphyrian views precisely on the question of the body. While Porphyry, according to Augustine, claims that the soul must flee the body in order to be happy (2.26: Sed Porphyrius ait, inquiunt, ut beata 46 civ. Dei 22.29.2: Illos sanctos in illa vita Deum . . . spiritu semper videbunt; 22.29.3: Ipsis [oculis cordis] autem videri Deum, cum videbitur, Christianus ambigit nemo, qui fideliter accipit, quod ait Deus ille magister: Beati mundicordes, quoniam ipsi Deum videbunt.

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sit anima, corpus esse omne fugiendum), Augustine asserts repeatedly in Book 22 that eternal happiness is to be found in the resurrection of the body (22.4–5, 22.11–21, 22.25–30). Indeed, almost every passage in Book 22, ostensibly devoted to the discussion of the happiness of the eternal city of God,47 concerns the importance of the body, whether in miracles that produce faith (22.8–10), the afflictions of the body (22.22–23), or its transformation to incorruptibility and freedom from pain and weakness (2.21). Therefore, Augustine’s discussion of the vision of God in 22.29, while supplementary to the fundamental vision of God with the heart, is an affirmation of eternal happiness in the resurrected body, in the presence of God. Regarding the spiritual body, then, Augustine affirms that its eyes will operate subject to the spirit, just as in this life the “carnal spirit” is subject to the flesh (22.29.2). Further, the abilities of the spiritual body will doubtless change, since the body will no longer be inhibited and limited by corruption (22.29.2). This leads Augustine to speculate on the one hand that the spiritual body might be able to see things without the eyes, just as Elisha could see his servant Gehazi from a distance too far for ordinary powers of sight (2 Kings 5:19–27). On the other hand, the eyes of the spiritual body might have such enhanced powers as to see immaterial things. If this were the case—and Augustine clearly speculates here, acknowledging his lack of knowledge from experience or from the authority of scripture on the matter—then the eyes could rightly be said to see God, in distinction to Neoplatonists’ firm conviction that intelligible things cannot be apprehended by the bodily senses (22.29.2–3). Here Augustine’s entertainment of the possibility of bodily vision of God stands as a challenge to Neoplatonism, affirming that the doctrine of the bodily resurrection can cohere with the understanding of eternal happiness as the vision of God. While Augustine is only theorizing on the qualities of the spiritual body, he bases his reasoning upon Job’s claim to God that “now my eye sees you” (Job 42:5). For if these men had such miraculous visions in the corruptible body, Augustine reasons that the spiritual body could also have such extraordinary powers to “see” the spirit. Yet, even with this affirmation of the potential powers of the spiritual body comes difficulty in understanding the scriptural depictions

47 civ. Dei 22.1: Sicut in proximo libro superiore promisimus, iste huius totius operis ultimus disputationem de civiatis Dei aeterna beatitudine continebit.

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of God’s “face”; Augustine clearly affirms that those who see God will have a body, but he denies that the God who is seen could have a body. Therefore, Augustine can speculate on the powers of the spiritual body to see immaterial realities, but he must interpret such anthropomorphic descriptions of God figuratively. Thus he claims that the “face to face” vision of 1 Corinthians 13 does not refer to corporeal eyes and faces, but to the “face” of the interior homo (2.29.4). Further, the “face of God,” which the angels see (Matt. 18:10), Augustine understands as God’s manifestation: This vision is reserved for us as the reward of faith; and the apostle John speaks of the vision: “When he appears, we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” Now we must understand the face of God as his manifestation and not the part of the body such as we have and to which we give that name.48

Here manifestatio refers to the transforming revelation of God to the saints in the next life. It is not, therefore, the mediated vision of God through “creature control,” in which the invisible God is perceived under a sign. Therefore, Augustine’s understanding of the “manifestation” of God in eternity stands in strong contrast to his understanding of the theophanies. For “manifestation” refers to that full spiritual revelation of God to those who see only in part now (1 Cor. 13:12), while the theophanies are symbolic representations of God that conceal even as they reveal the divine presence.49 By reserving “manifestation” for the revelation of God in eternity, Augustine makes clear that the visions of God in this life, mediated by creatures, are not such full revelations. All of these reflections lead Augustine to conclude that it is credible that the saints in heaven will see God in all things, directing the universe and governing the physical bodies of the new heaven and earth.50 Further, such a vision would be stronger than simply observing

48 civ. Dei 22.29.1, translation modified: Praemium itaque fidei nobis visio ista servatur, de qua et Iohannes apostolus loquens: Cum apparuerit, inquit, similes ei erimus, quoniam videbimus eum sicuti est. Facies autem Dei manifestatio eius intellegenda est, non aliquod tale membrum, quale nos habemus in corpore atque isto nomine nuncupamus. 49 Cf. Sermon 23.15: Apparuit, sicut congruum iudicabat; latuit, sicut erat. Latin text is from: Aurelii Augustini Opera, Pars XI, 1: Sermones de Vetere Testamento, ed. Cyril Lambot, O.S.B., CCSL 41 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1961). 50 civ. Dei 22.29.6: Quam ob rem fieri potest valdeque credibile est sic nos visuros mundana tunc corpora caeli novi et terrae novae, ut Deum ubique praesentem et

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in this life the invisible things of God by the things that God made (Rom. 1:20). Presumably, for Augustine, the eyes could be transformed to have some kind of intellectual quality for discerning immaterial things.51 In other words, Augustine concludes against Neoplatonic view of the “incredibility” of the resurrection of the body (22.5, 11–12, 25–28) that such a vision of God with the eyes of the spiritual body is indeed possible, if not explicitly supported by scriptural claims. To this end, Augustine affirms that eternal happiness, which consists in the intellectual vision of God, is compatible with the resurrection of the body. However, Augustine’s quick conclusion to chapter 29 is perhaps more telling than the speculations already discussed. After asserting the possibility that the eyes of the spiritual body might see God, he offers another option: Or, it is easier to understand that God will be so known and seen by us that God may be seen in the spirit by each of us, seen by one another in one another, seen in himself, seen in the new heaven and earth and in each creature which will be, seen even through the body in each body, wherever the eyes of the spiritual body direct their gaze.52

In other words, God will be seen in the spirit, as Augustine has described seeing “with the heart,” but also seen in each body in the new heaven and earth. God’s presence will so permeate the city of God that whatever material realities the saints see with their eyes, including the resurrected bodies of their neighbors and themselves, will also be a kind of vision of God. Thus the vision of God in eternity could indeed be bodily, if understood as perception of God’s pervading presence and union with creatures in the heavenly city. Here Augustine’s theology is unmistakeably social, affirming that the end of human life is not simply to be with God, but to be with all the saints in God. Ultimately, then, the sight of one’s neighbor is the sight of God, when the resurrected saints will have the eyes to discern God’s presence among them. universa etiam corporalia gubernantem per corpora quae gestabimus et quae conspiciemus, quaqua versum oculos duxerimus. 51 civ. Dei 22.29.6: Ergo sic per illos oculos videbitur Deus, ut aliquid habeant in tanta excellentia menti simile, quo et incorporea natura cernatur. 52 civ. Dei 22.29.6: Aut, quod est ad intellegendum facilius, ita Deus nobis erit notus atque conspicuus, ut videatur spiritu a singulis nobis, videatur ab altero in altero. Videatur in se ipso, videatur in caelo novo et terra nova atque in omni, quae tunc fuerit, creatura, videatur et per corpora in omni corpore, quocumque fuerint spiritalis corporis oculi acie perveniente directi.

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Thus, just as the proper ordering of loves does not oppose but unites the love of God and neighbor (cf. doc. Chr. 1.22.21), so the true vision of God unites the whole redeemed creation in God. In this way, Augustine affirms that mediation will continue in eternity, even as the saints’ vision of God in each other complements their spiritual vision of God. In a sense, mediation is never a barrier to seeing God in Augustine’s thought, even though visible signs simultaneously conceal and reveal God’s presence. Rather, mediation aids union with God, both in the earthly life of faith and in the communion of saints. Christian hope in the resurrection of the body, combined with the ultimacy of love, means that the fundamental desire for vision of God will be realized in and through embodied and yet transcendent communal experience. Conclusion In the course of his later writings, Augustine fleshes out the ideas he introduced in De Trinitate: he clearly repudiates the literal christological reading of the theophanies, he considers with greater specificity how the patriarchs’ encounters with God involve both intellectual and sensory perception, and he connects these ideas to the fundamental importance of mediation in an incarnational theology. Indeed, even as Augustine clearly stresses the invisibility of the divine substance and the hope for a transcendent, intellectual, and inward vision of God, he never abandons the body. Rather, the mediation of the vision of God through the body will complement the saints’ spiritual vision of God in heaven. In many ways, Augustine’s interpretation of the theophanies mirrors how he thinks of spiritual growth and transformation. Although the theophanies are exceptional, they are also exemplary: they demonstrate how spiritual encounters with God originate through the senses and deepen one’s desire for even greater encounters, culminating in union with God and the saints in eternity. They are christological not because Christ appeared in them, but because they stem from God’s visible manifestation to creation in Christ’s humanity, a sign and reality inseparably conjoined to the Word. In short, these strange and contradictory stories express the impossible possibility of seeing the invisible God.

CONCLUSION This study grew out of two basic questions. First, why did early Christian authors read these narratives christologically, claiming that the God who appeared was Christ? Second, how and why did Augustine break from this traditional reading? In large part, these are questions of development and critique, examining how a new patristic interpretation became traditional and how this interpretation was critiqued within the logic, methods, and developing theological convictions of the patristic period. In Part One, two distinct strands of interpretation emerge and develop from the second to the fourth century, the polemical-doctrinal and the spiritual strands. While each strand grows out of distinct contexts and theological questions, both hold that the Son appeared in the Genesis and Exodus theophanies prior to his incarnation. This period, rich in theological development and conflict, witnesses dramatic change and discontinuity as Christian groups define themselves in distinction to Judaism and often in distinction to each other. As biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann writes, the threat of discontinuity in a historically-based religion has often been overcome through creative interpretation that establishes greater claims of continuity between the community’s sacred texts and their belief in God’s providence.1 In particular, Brueggemann describes daring, imaginative acts of exegesis—both within the Jewish and Christian scriptures themselves and in history—that claim something genuinely new and yet root such claims in old traditions and texts. This “endlessly vexing interpretive problem” has long been part of historical faiths that connect ancient tradition with contemporary practice.2 The polemical-doctrinal strand, which focuses on defining Christ’s identity in a range of christological polemics, perhaps displays most 1 Walter Brueggemann, “Dialogue Between Incommensurate Partners: Prospects for Common Testimony,” Journal of Ecumenical Studies 38:4 (2001): sec. II–III. 2 Brueggemann, “Dialogue Between Incommensurate Partners,” II. For example, Brueggemann considers the historical differences between ancestral traditions in Genesis and Mosaic traditions in Exodus, Torah traditions and the monarchial establishment of David, ancient Israel and postexilic developments in Judaism, the emergence of Christianity as a community of faith distinct from Judaism, the story of Jesus prior to his death and after his resurrection, and between gospel narratives about Jesus and Paul’s definition of Christian faith.

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clearly features of Brueggemann’s thesis. Grounded in fundamental beliefs about the Son’s proper activity as revealer and mediator for the Father, authors like Justin, Novatian, and Hilary see in the theophanies examples of this activity and thereby establish continuity between Old Testament accounts of revelation and their beliefs in Christ. They identify him as the angel described in the narratives, attributing to Christ the angelic activity of speaking and appearing on behalf of God. Further, they explore ambiguities in the narrative descriptions of the subject’s identity, which they clarify through intertextual exegesis. In their christological reading, they also reconcile the change implied in visible appearances of God with their belief in God’s impassibility and transcendence. By connecting the theophanies with the Son who later became incarnate, these authors establish continuity between God and Jesus, between the Old Testament and the emerging New Testament writings, and between the Son’s divine power and human interactions. However, in asserting that the proper meaning of such narratives lies in a correct christology, early Christian authors resolve some exegetical tensions but encounter others. They advocate an exclusive christological reading that displaces the Genesis and Exodus narratives from their ancient Jewish context. For example, Justin tells Trypho in their dialogue that on account of Jewish “idolatry,” God has withheld the ability to understand the scriptures that he reads every day (dial. 55). These patristic authors also respond to internal crises of discontinuity over Christ’s identity and the value of the scriptures, such as those presented by Marcion or Docetism or Adoptionism. They also critique the even stronger form of continuity presented by modalism, arguing for the Son’s real distinction from the Father. Yet, this strand also faces a new crisis when the subordinationism inherent to it is challenged by pro-Nicene authors of the late fourth century. Although Hilary and Ambrose develop these theological critiques, emphasizing the equality and inseparability of the Trinity, they nevertheless keep the traditional christological reading of the theophanies. However, their theology influences Augustine to use their ideas to challenge the christological theophany interpretation of his Homoian opponents, first in De Trinitate and then more boldly in Contra Maximinum. Thus, part of the story of early Christian theophany interpretation involves the development of the christological reading and its critique in the late fourth century by Augustine. His own theophany narrative exegesis combines aspects of both strands, using multiple strategies to resist the christological reading in subtle yet substantial and consistent

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ways. Although he initially read the theophanies as appearances of the Son in his early anti-Manichean work Contra Adimantum, he rejects this view in De Trinitate and in later works. Emphasizing that the theophanies are signs that could signify any member of the Trinity, Augustine explores alternative readings and cautions against identifying narratives with one divine person. He does not associate the angel of the theophanies with Christ, and when he confronts Homoian interpretation of the theophany narratives, he mocks the claim that Christ was seen in the Old Testament. His resistance to the christological interpretation is indebted to Ambrose and Hilary’s theology of divine equality and inseparability, and therefore Augustine’s exegesis illustrates the patristic capacity for critique amid ongoing theological and exegetical development. Yet, this study has also been concerned with far more than the question of who appeared in the theophany narratives. In Part Two Augustine’s exegesis also opens up points of reflection on the enduring meaning and value of the theophanies to the reader of the scriptures. He develops key themes of the spiritual strand, with its focus on the distinction between types of vision, the eschatological promise of vision, and on the desire to see God as a driving facet of spiritual growth and transformation. Drawing from Ambrose and Origen, and bearing striking similarities to Irenaeus and Tertullian, Augustine shifts away from the polemical-doctrinal strand of interpretation, which focuses on the revelation of the Son in the unfolding of the Genesis and Exodus narratives. Ambrose’s principles of how the invisible God can be manifested visibly under an assumed visible, created form, as well as his convictions of the equality of the triune God and the unity of the divine persons in all their works, provide Augustine with the conceptual framework for interpreting the theophanies as revelations of the divinitas more generally. In Augustine’s reading, God uses created things to call people back to God and to point them toward the pre-eminent means of this salvation, the incarnation of the Word. Augustine also relies heavily upon the Irenaean idea that God’s “no” in the theophanies is actually a “yes.” When God says to Moses, “no one shall see me and live,” God actually promises an eschatological vision of the divinity for those who at last have been redeemed from the limitations of this weak and mortal body. Thus the theophanies point toward God’s plan of salvation to become one with humanity in Jesus Christ in order that human beings might be transformed and become capable of seeing God with pure hearts. As Tertullian stresses

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that the theophanies teach the future transformation of human beings to the angelic life by showing angels in human form, and as Irenaeus teaches that the theophanies indicate a truer vision of God in Christ’s incarnation, so Augustine sees the theophanies as indications of God’s whole dispensation of salvation. Like Gregory of Nyssa, Augustine sees in the theophanies not proper visions of God, but the cultivation of the desire to see God that sustains spiritual growth and discipleship. In many ways, Augustine demonstrates his preference for the spiritual strand over the polemical-doctrinal strand by shifting away from the question of the identity of the theophany subject. Augustine also develops certain key ideas that enable him to critique the christological reading of all of his predecessors, and in so doing, he expands his theophany interpretation beyond the question of christological identification. If one were to view Augustine’s contribution to the history of theophany interpretation only as his critique of the tradition of christological identification, one would miss several other equally critical contributions. Emphasis on signification With most of the earlier exegetical traditions studied here, the interpreters express that the Son was manifested in the theophanies, but usually do not reflect at length on how such a vision could be possible. For Justin, the Son appears with two angels in human form (dial. 56), yet they did not really eat and drink (dial. 57); for Irenaeus, the Word appeared to Moses as one speaks to a friend (adv. haer. 4.20.9); for Hilary, the Son “is” the one who speaks with the patriarchs (Trin. 4.42); and for Ambrose, God was seen under a created form (Exp. Luc. 1.25). All of these authors certainly add to the traditions of understanding these strange narratives, some with more clarity than others. But their interpretations still leave many unanswered questions on how a vision of three men, a burning bush, or a mysterious disclosure on a mountaintop could be called a vision of God. In the course of his writings on the theophanies, Augustine’s understanding of the theophanies as signs evolves. In his early works, he seems less clear on the connection between divine encounter and signs, claiming in Contra Adimantum that the Son is manifested in the theophanies by appearing through a visible creature. He understands the person of God the Son as dwelling in the creature who is seen

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(c. Adim. 9.1), affirming that both a creature and God are encountered in the same event. But he does not use the language of signs, as he begins to do in De Trinitate and invokes fully in De civitate Dei 10. In comparison, in the early work De vera religione Augustine attributes an important place to sacred history in the Christian ascent of the soul to God, in which miracles and theophanies can teach the soul to turn from false images to the pursuit of higher truth (vera rel. 16.30, 24.45–47, 28.51, 50.98–100). Yet this represents only the beginning of the ascent. The true spiritual encounter with God occurs when reason advances from visible to invisible things (29.52) and is enabled to perceive truth apart from bodily images. Thus the visible works of God, and even Christ’s own passion and resurrection, function to point the believer toward the invisible. In De vera religione Augustine sees a place for signs in Christian spirituality, but he does not explicitly connect this with the theophany narratives, and more importantly, his understanding of signs is simply to indicate where one may find true happiness: in being purged from bodily desires and in being enabled to perceive the one God with the mind, apart from bodily sensation. By the writing of the early books of De Trinitate, however, Augustine explicitly connects the theophanies with signification. He writes that “God sent us sights suited to our wandering state, to admonish us that what we seek is not here” (Trin. 4.2) and that the purpose of the theophanies is “to signify and show [God] in a manner suited to the human senses” (Trin. 2.12: ad eum significandum et sicut humanis sensibus oportebat demonstrandum). This becomes much clearer in De civitate Dei 10, in which Augustine claims that the invisible God was seen by the patriarchs as an invisible thought is heard in sound (civ. Dei 10.13). Thus Augustine claims that God appeared to bodily eyes through certain signs (indiciis; civ. Dei 10.15), and in Quaestiones in Heptateuchum he writes that the visitors to Abraham and Lot, in whom they sensed the Lord’s presence, were divinely sent by means of aliquibus signis (qu. gn. 41). Augustine’s use of terms such as signa and indicia to understand God’s appearances in the Old Testament grows from the mid-390s onward. The content of his teaching is much the same as that of Ambrose: God was seen not according to the divine substance, which is invisible, but by assuming a visible form. What Augustine’s use of signifying language brings out, more clearly than in his predecessors’ exegesis, is his understanding of what appears in the theophanies as both God and not God. As signs, the theophanies are distinct from

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the reality that they represent. This compares to Ambrose’s view of the species under which the invisible God was seen; the three visitors, the burning bush, and other visible things are used by God to make God’s presence known. Yet, Augustine also understands that the divine reality is not merely indicated in the theophany, as he understood the use of created things in the spiritual ascent in De vera religione. In the earlier work Augustine describes how temporal things point toward eternal realities but must be transcended to encounter that reality truly. But in his later works, Augustine emphasizes a conjunctive understanding of how God is encountered in the created reality of the theophany, as thought is perceived through its spoken expression, as Abraham saw three men but perceived the Lord in them (c. Max. 2.26.7). Therefore, he can claim in a qualified sense that the invisible God is seen, since the bodily eyes perceive the visible sign that is conjoined to the reality that it represents. Augustine’s use of signifying language makes clearer and stronger his earlier understanding of the subject of the theophanies in Contra Adimantum as God dwelling in a creature. As such, he can actually identify two subjects in a theophany—the person of God and the person of the creature, joined in a kind of sacramental union in which the sign presents the reality that it signifies. Thus Augustine is able to understand the theophanies as events in which God is both revealed and hidden (s. 23). As such, the theophanies both convey God’s presence and make the recipient (or reader) of the vision long for a clearer revelation of God, one that reveals God as God is. Emphasis on encountering God in creation and in scripture Augustine’s assessment of the theophanies indicates a broader contour of his theology: that God is encountered in sacred history, in Christ, and in diverse means mediated by physical phenomena even as the believer seeks to know God in a true intellectual vision. Thus, while the proper goal of Christian faith is to overcome the desire for mere bodily experience and to find one’s true happiness in the invisible and incorporeal God, the locus of this journey to God is, for the believer, very much embodied, using the things of creation properly in order to love God more fully (cf. De doctr. chr. 1). This is most fully seen in Christ, who as the Word made flesh becomes the way back to God and is God. In other words, the Christian journey of faith both looks forward to

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the resurrection, when the saints will be transformed and brought into God’s presence forever, and at present enjoys communion with God in Christ, the mediator between humanity and God. In De vera religione, the temporal dispensation of faith is important, but primarily for moving one’s orientation from the temporal and corporeal to the eternal and intellectual. Beginning in the mid- to late 390s, Augustine understands a fuller use of creation to effect this journey, in which the end goal is not merely indicated but communicated in Jesus Christ. Augustine claims that the scriptures deliberately use metaphors and expressions drawn from creation to describe God, not to suggest that the divinity is in any way to be identified with the temporal and finite, but to “entice our sickly gaze and get us step by step to seek as best we can the things that are above” (Trin. 1.2). So God uses words and sights to draw human beings back through means that are “suited to human senses” (Trin. 2.12). Such means are intended to persuade people of God’s love and to show them their true condition (Trin. 4.2). Yet, this is not merely an indication of things to be sought elsewhere. For in the form of a servant Christ became one with humanity, but in the form of God he brings human beings into a direct encounter with the divinity. So too in the daily sacrifice of the eucharist Christ unites God and humanity, as he is the sacrifice offered, the priest by which it is offered, and the God who receives the offering (Trin. 4.19; civ. Dei 10.20). Further, “seeing God” in the Christian dispensation means looking to scripture and to Christ as the tangible, visible means of encountering God in this life. In his preaching Augustine instructs his audience to regard the scriptures as God’s face (s. 22), just as he exhorts believers to look to Christ’s back, his flesh, as long as they are walking by faith in this life (Trin. 2.28). Thus the journey of Christian faith and hope is firmly rooted in visible means that both communicate divine reality and elevate the believer to a greater spiritual encounter with that divine reality. These visible means are the scriptures, the sacraments, the church, the cross—all effective because of Christ the mediator, in whom God’s love became visible. The importance of these visible means certainly holds in this life, as long as believers must walk by faith and not by sight. Yet, even in the next life the body remains significant. As Augustine reflects in De civitate Dei 22, Christians hope for the resurrection of the body, and eternal happiness does not require flight from the body, as with Porphyrian conceptions of happiness. Surely the saints will have intellectual vision

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of God in eternity, but they will also have their bodies, transformed into spiritual bodies but nevertheless true bodies. Further, body and spirit will be unified in such a way that the saints will experience happiness in the body, that is, they will see the invisible God while in the body. Exactly what this vision is, Augustine cannot claim; certainly it is the intellectual vision of God, and perhaps the eyes of the spiritual body could also have powers of perception to see the invisible, incorporeal God. But Augustine affirms strongly that there is an ultimate unity and compatibility of body and spirit in the eternal vision of God, since Jesus Christ himself was raised from the dead and promises the resurrection of the body. Therefore the vision of God always will have a bodily dimension for those who receive such vision, either by perceiving God all in all, seeing God in one’s neighbor, or perhaps by seeing God with the eyes of the spiritual body. Ultimately, salvation on earth and in eternity is not truly an escape of the body, but a transformation of the believer to know, love, and see God while living in the body. Reconceiving of the relation of the theophanies to the incarnation Augustine also redefines the traditional association of the theophanies with the incarnation of the Word. He does not sever the connection between the theophanies and Christ, but revises it. In his view, the theophanies are not appearances of the Son, but witnesses of the triune God’s activity that, together with the larger dispensation of God’s actions in the world, point toward the incarnation. There is a forwardlooking dynamic in this dispensation, which makes the theophanies not manifestations of a particular trinitarian person (Trin. 2.35), but likenesses of the incarnation that proclaim God’s salvation through created means and ultimately in Christ (Trin. 4.11). In this, Augustine alters the traditional christological reading by placing the theophanies in this forward-looking dispensation as signs, rather than placing the Son back in the theophanies. While both of these interpretations are christological, the former modifies earlier patristic views of how God is revealed in history. Augustine inherits a tradition of interpretation that identifies the theophanies with the Son’s manifestation, often to argue in various christological debates for the Son’s existence before his incarnation. Augustine himself assumes this line of interpretation in Contra Adimantum, arguing against Manichaean exegesis that the Word

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announces the Father both in the Old Testament and in the New (c. Adim. 9). But something changes by 400, when in De Trinitate Augustine no longer reads the theophanies as historical manifestations of the Son. Certainly he reads some narratives figuratively to understand the implications of Christ’s life, death, and resurrection, as he does with Exodus 33 in De Trinitate 2.28. As a historical event, however, he is reluctant to see any of the theophanies as appearances of the Son—or of the Father or the Holy Spirit—even as mediated by creatures. In lieu of an interpretation of christological manifestation and “proof ” of the Word’s pre-existence, Augustine considers the overall shape and dynamic of God’s actions in history in De Trinitate. While Augustine progresses in historical order through a consideration of Old Testament missions and mediation (Books Two and Three) to the incarnation of the Word (Book Four), it is his reflections in Book Four that re-order and re-shape his tentative conclusions in the earlier books. Thus he understands the incarnation, passion, and resurrection of Jesus Christ as the defining event that sheds light on the earlier theophanies. Here Augustine both builds upon his reflections in Books Two and Three and revises them. In this way, Augustine reinterprets the theophanies by seeing them not as proofs of the Son’s manifestation, but by seeing the incarnation as the climax of God’s many uses of creation to witness to God’s love and plan of redemption. Thus, instead of finding the Son in the theophanies, as Hilary and others interpreted the narratives, Augustine finds the meaning of the theophanies in their testimony of how God uses creation to redeem and save, ultimately in the Word made flesh. Augustine accomplishes this in his reflection on the Son as mediator in De Trinitate 4.3–24. He reflects extensively on Jesus Christ’s life, death, and resurrection, concluding that the theophanies are among the various ways in which all creation bears witness to the Son’s mission (4.25). As such, the many acclaim the one to come (4.11) and creation bears witness to the one through whom all things were made (4.25), showing reintegration of a fragmented creation. Thus the incarnation of the Word, including his passion, death, and resurrection, is the fulfillment of a dispensation of salvation toward which all of God’s actions are oriented. This is especially true of those events in which God uses creatures to signify “in a manner suited to human senses” (2.12) that God can be found in the limited and the temporal, even that it is fitting for God to become flesh.

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Yet, the theophanies cannot simply be equated with encountering God under created form. Even as Augustine affirms their function in signifying and demonstrating the possibility of the mediation of God to human beings in this world, he also denies emphatically that the theophanies can be identified too closely with God. Indeed, this is an essential part of Augustine’s understanding of God’s actions in the world. The visions of God under created form are not true visions of God, a fact which makes Moses long to “see what he already saw” (s. 23), that is, to have a greater spiritual or intellectual apprehension of God apart from the concealing aspect of created mediation. The theophanies both reveal and conceal God’s presence—they reveal enough to make the recipients (and readers of the narrative) desire to “see” better what they perceived with their eyes. They conceal out of necessity, for the invisible God cannot be seen except by the pure in heart in the resurrection of the saints. The theophanies are, in a sense, both God’s no and God’s yes, just as Moses “saw” God but was denied the vision of God’s face. They do not allow the recipient to see God in se, but they contain both the promise of future vision—in the incarnation, but ultimately in eternal life—and, equally important, the impetus to desire such vision. They are a proleptic glimpse of true happiness: to see God with the eyes of the heart. Midway between these theophanies and the vision of God by the saints in heaven is the vision of God in Christ. This vision is more truly a vision of God than the theophanies are, since in Christ the fullness of the divinity dwells in such unity that God is not only in the man but can be identified as him, the man Jesus Christ. This is not true of the theophanies, which are more properly signs of God. Yet, even the vision of Christ is not necessarily a vision of God: some will see him and only perceive him according to the form of a servant, that is, his humanity. To see him according to the form of God, one must see him in faith, with the heart. Still, such vision, even if only partially held in this life, is both the means and the end of the journey of faith back to God, since Christ mediates God and is God. To this end, the theophanies are particularly important for indicating the suitability of God taking on flesh, and in turn the incarnation makes possible encountering God truly but partially in this life and more fully in the life to come. Augustine’s assessment of the theophanies as events that tell of God’s redemptive plan in Christ is not new to him; certainly Irenaeus

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and Tertullian, among others, think that the theophanies indicate the promise of becoming like the angels or of seeing God in Christ’s transfiguration, the unveiling of his glory. But Augustine develops much more fully that the theophanies should be read as evidence of the “sacramental” mediation of God through created signs. In one sense, the theophanies indicate the propriety of such mediation, to be found also in miracles, in sacraments, and most fully, personally, and definitively in Christ. In a related sense, the theophanies prepare for the revelation of God in Christ, which in turn transforms believers and prepares them to be in God’s presence eternally. So the theophanies are a means of preparing for the vision of God, accustoming human beings to see in creation and in the scriptural narratives signifying visions of God that increase one’s desire to see God more fully. As with Moses in Exodus 33, the more the believer “sees” of God’s back, or Christ’s flesh, the more the soul is “ravished” with the desire to see it more clearly (Trin. 2.28). And, the more believers desire to see Christ’s “face,” the more they realize Christ’s love for them. Thus the theophanies fit into a whole dispensation in which the goal is to “see” God, that is, to be in such communion with God that one can perceive God directly and spiritually. They attract the human gaze, drawn to visible things, and demonstrate the appropriateness of the incarnation as the central means by which God transforms believers. They prepare for the eschatological vision of God by both increasing one’s desire for it and by preparing one to receive the incarnation as the fullest mediation of God to humanity. As such, the theophany narratives reveal a critical part of God’s actions in the world, leading to the incarnation, and they demonstrate the continuity of this saving dispensation over time. For in them God’s saving work in Christ extends back in history, not by identifying the Son’s proper activity, but by seeing all of God’s actions, however revealed or concealed they might be, unified in God’s redemptive love, the expression of which culminates in God’s becoming one with humanity in Jesus Christ. Considering Augustine’s theophany narrative interpretation more broadly, he provides a critical moment of development in early Christian exegesis, both building upon and altering the traditions of interpretation that he received. Through his emphasis on signification and mediation he articulates more clearly than his predecessors how God both is and is not seen in the theophanies, but more importantly, he also advances an understanding of why these narratives matter to

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the reader. For in the theophanies the reader finds stories of those like Moses who desired to see God more clearly than is possible in this life. Through various signifying encounters one is elevated in faith to a greater communion with God in Christ through the Holy Spirit, which in turn is a lifelong journey toward the vision of God with the saints in eternity. As part of this whole dispensation, the theophanies prepare for this ultimate vision by indicating who God is and how this God may be found. They exemplify the desire to seek God’s face, both in the present and ever more.

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INDEX OF SCRIPTURAL REFERENCES Genesis 1–3 1:1–2:4 1:26 1:26–27 2:17 3 3:10 11:1–9 12:1–9 16–21 16:7–14 16:10 16:13 17–21 17:1–14 17:20 18

18:1 18:2 18:3 18:9 18:9–15 18:10 18:10–15 18:16 18:17 18:17–33 18:20 18:21 18:22 18:32 18:33 19 19:1 19:18 19:24 21:1 21:2 21:8–21 21:12 21:13 21:18

168, 177 29, 117 76, 81 36, 177 177 114 177 35, 93 39 82, 85, 95 4, 37–38, 82, 83, 84, 85 82, 83 37, 82 83 83, 84 83 4, 19, 20, 21, 26, 39, 40, 52, 83, 84, 117, 124, 125, 135, 141, 143, 147, 148, 149, 167, 169, 171–172, 173, 177 4, 20, 83, 89, 143, 166, 171 20, 27, 83, 143 20, 83 20 21, 84 21 20 148 84 84 84 22, 148 84, 148 22 84 19, 22, 26, 52, 84, 147–148, 149, 172–173, 177 21, 84 22 22, 39, 42, 76, 84 84 21, 85 38 21 85 85

28 19, 24, 52 28:10–17 24 28:13 24 31:1–21 19, 24, 38, 40 31:10–13 24 32 85, 178 32:22–32 4, 19, 24, 40, 43 32:24 27 32:24–30 177 32:29 24 32:31 24 41 169, 171 Exodus 3

4, 19, 24, 25, 67, 68, 85, 124, 125, 141, 145, 146–147, 169 3:1–3 67 3:2 25, 85, 146 3:4 25, 85 3:6 94, 145, 147 3:7 52 3:16 25 15:11 92 20 67 20:21 68 33 4, 21, 55, 56, 67, 69, 92, 117, 141, 149, 156–161, 167, 168, 174, 178, 201, 202, 203 33:11 2, 69, 166 33:13 156, 173 33:18 2 33:19 53 33:19–23 157 33:20 2, 4, 37, 54, 157, 166, 195 Numbers 12:6–8 12:8

61, 174 174

Deuteronomy 6:4 80 2 Kings 5:19–27

188

Job 42:5

188

214

index of scriptural references

Psalms 2 42 44 (LXX) 26, 42 44:2 (LXX) 36 44:7–8 (LXX) 23, 26 105:4 141 109 (LXX) 42 109:1 (LXX) 23, 26

18:22 20:36

69 60

John 1 1:1–5 1:3 1:18 5:46 9:6 14:9

118 105 36 37, 38, 42, 93, 118, 119 80 116 91

Acts 7 7:30 10:10–16

91 121 124

Romans 1:20

125, 190

1 Corinthians 13:12 14:14 15:42–57

1, 62, 165, 175, 187, 189 169 175

2 Corinthians 5:6 12

160 168

Wisdom of Solomon 7:24 155 9:10 155

Philippians 2:6-11

155, 174, 202

Matthew 5:8

Colossians 1:15

1

1 Timothy 1:17 6:16

1, 123 1

Proverbs 8:22

80

Isaiah 6 9:6

91, 123, 124, 125 38, 42, 147

Daniel 2 3 5 7:9–27

169 56 125 28, 56

Hosea 12:4

4

Habakkuk 3:3

35

6:22 16:18 18:10 22:30

1, 91, 140, 165, 167, 187 47 179 189 60

Mark 12:25

60

Luke 1:8–21 1:11 9:23 11:34

89, 90 63 69 47

1 John 3:1–3 3:2 4:12

1 165, 167, 174, 175, 187, 189 1

Revelation 1 19

56 56

INDEX OF ANCIENT WRITINGS Acts of Justin, 17 Adimantus Disputationes, 117 Ambrose De Cain et Abel, 93, 144 De excessu fratris, 93, 144 Expositio evangelii secundum Lucam, 89–92, 93, 196, 198 De fide ad Gratianum, 89, 92, 93, 94, 144 Hexameron, 93 De Isaac vel anima, 94 De Spiritu Sancto, 89, 93, 144 Athanasius De synodis, 76 Augustine Contra Adimantum, 103, 117–127, 129, 136, 142, 146, 157, 161, 165, 168, 169, 170, 171, 195, 196, 197, 198, 200, 201 De agone Christiano, 110–111 De animae quantitate, 138 De civitate Dei, 107, 166, 179, 180–182, 183, 184–191, 197, 199–200 Confessions, 105 Conlatio cum Maximino, 175–176 De diversis quaestionibus 83, 107, 110 De doctrina Christiana, 50, 129, 165, 180, 182–184, 191, 198 Epistula 147 (De videndo Deo), 8, 89, 90, 140, 165, 166–168, 174, 175, 182 Epistula 148, 140 Expositio Epistulae ad Galatas, 115, 122 De Genesi ad litteram, 138, 157, 165, 168–171, 173, 174, 178 De Genesi adversus Manichaeos, 112, 168 Contra Maximinum, 163, 165, 171–173, 175–178, 179–180, 194, 198 De musica, 115, 138 Quaestiones in Heptateuchum, 173, 178, 197 Quaestiones in Heptateuchum (Exodus), 157, 173, 174, 179

Quaestiones in Heptateuchum (Genesis), 172, 173, 178, 197 Retractationes, 104, 105, 106, 117 Sermo 12, 183 Sermo 22, 199 Sermo 23, 159, 189, 198, 202 De Trinitate, 7, 8, 9, 103, 117, 119, 120, 129–164, 165, 166, 172, 173, 178, 179, 191, 194, 195, 197, 199, 200, 201, 203 De vera religione, 103, 104–110, 112–117, 126, 127, 138, 139, 140, 168, 178, 197, 198, 199 Gregory of Nyssa Life of Moses, 66–71, 156 Hilary De synodis, 76, 77–78 De Trinitate, 26, 79–88, 177, 196 Irenaeus Adversus haereses, 21, 51, 53–57, 196 Proof of the Apostolic Preaching, 51–52 Justin 1 Apology, 17, 25 Dialogue with Trypho, 16, 18–28, 31–32, 41, 58, 87, 194, 196 Novatian De Trinitate, 15, 34–44, 87 Origen Contra Celsum, 63, 65 Homiliae in Lucam, 63–65, 90 De principiis, 49, 63, 92 Philo De Abrahamo, 20, 21, 25, 27, 58 De mutatione nominum, 21 De posteritate Caini, 21 Quaestiones et solutiones in Exodum, 21, 27 Quaestiones et solutiones in Genesin, 29 Quod Deus immutabilis sit, 47 De sacrificiis Abeli et Caini, 20

216

index of ancient writings

De somniis, 29 De specialibus legibus, 21

Sozomen Historia ecclesiastica, 75, 76

Plato Timaeus, 47

Tertullian De carne Christi, 58–59 Adversus Marcionem, 59–60, 62 Adversus Praxean, 33, 60–62

Socrates Historia ecclesiastica, 75, 76