"The God of Condescension and the God of Philosophy"
Richard N. Williams
February 4, 2003
Of all the knowledge that was lost to mankind during that period we refer to as the Great Apostasy, nothing was more important, nothing had a greater potential for wreaking calamity in cultures and in the lives and hearts of the children of God, than the loss of the understanding of the true nature of God. At the beginning of the great intercessory prayer (John 17:3) the Savior declared:
And this is life eternal, that they might know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom thou hast sent.
Joseph Smith taught, in relation to this, that AIf men do not comprehend the character of God, they do not comprehend themselves@ (Teachings, p. 343). This sounds descriptive of our own time. This state of affairs works to the advantage of the adversary, wearing down souls, haunting them with the specter of nothingness and meaninglessness, and dulling their sensitivity to the good and to the spirit of truth. Indeed, the Lord himself declared that one major purpose of the Restoration of the Gospel was so that we A . . . might understand and know how to worship, and know what [we] worship, that [we] may come unto the Father in [his] name . . .@ (Doctrine and Covenants 93:19, emphasis added). I want give an example of the importance of this knowledge in the life of one young man.
I am acquainted with a young man B now no longer quite so young B who was reared in an LDS home. He understood the doctrine of the Godhead, that the Father and the Son are separate beings and that they have bodies "of flesh and bones, as tangible as man= s . . ." (Doctrine and Covenants 130:22). However, the philosophies of men were also deeply entrenched in this young man=s culture and he and his family were not immune. He listened to traditional teachings of God= s power and omniscience influenced by ideas born in the apostate era. He learned that, due to his nature, God was very different from us. In his father= s terms, AGod is as different from us in his intellect as we are different from earthworms.@ The metaphor of caring for and watching for a colony of earthworms as a model for God= s watching over us played itself out vividly in this young boy= s mind. He also learned that this very smart and distant God knew all the principles by which everything operated. The young man concluded that such a God was very busy B far too busy to have much time, let alone much concern, for any particular earthworm such as he. And yet, he was taught that this same God is mindful of everything, such that even a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without his knowing it (Matthew 10:29). The young man= s again concluded that God must have some sort of cosmic mind that can detect Adisturbances in the force@ so to speak. But, he didn't feel much better as a Adisturbance@ than he did as a earthworm. While this understanding of God made intellectual sense to him, the more he contemplated on these things, the more the young man felt lost in a vast cosmic network of causes and effects, but very far from a great but impersonal God.
It became increasingly difficult for this young man to understand what it meant to Alove@ this God, although he tried. He felt an obligation to love God out of respect for his superior nature, but it was a love born of fear and intellect, almost untouched by emotion. It was hard to love an abstraction, even one with a body of flesh and bones. He did know that God loved him, he was told so many times. Perfect beings are required to love everyone. Being an earthworm, he was not sure what it was like for God to love him. More importantly, this young man was quite sure that however much God might love him, God= s actions B as a perfectly rational being B were hopelessly determined by the inalterable network of laws and principles that bound this perfectly rational God to act in particular ways, so that love could never modify the inevitable natural consequences of the young man= s acts, or anyone else= s for that matter. It was a tough, loving God who presided over such a finely tuned web of unalterable principles. Finally, the young man began to wonder how or why an infinitely intelligent God, bound by abstract laws and principles, would need to really listen to prayers; and besides, God already knew both what the boy needed and whether it would be possible to grant it. Nothing really hung in the balance at prayer time. Prayers were dutifully said, but given his understanding of God, they could not be otherwise than hollow B echoing off the ceiling. This young man, I= m happy to report stayed quite faithful, although quite melancholy, into adulthood. He tried very hard to believe what he was taught, but what he did believe brought little comfort. It is with a mixture of sorrow over lost time, and great relief that today, after more than forty years, he can say with genuine conviction and joy, that he loves God, and he knows what he means when he says it.
I have related this true story for two reasons. First, I have wondered how many of you might have thought or felt, at one time or another, anything like this young man thought and felt. Perhaps, choice spirits that you are, you never have, but maybe you know someone who has. I have related the story so that you might be able to help those who struggle to find the God of the restored gospel in the midst of a world where the nature of God is misunderstood, the heavens are created by the intellects of men, and the quality of mercy is strained through a network of abstractions. Second, I wanted to use this true story to introduce the real important subject of this talk, the God of Condescension, because it was in coming to know this God that the young man=s story had a happy ending. Before being introduced to this God, however, we need to deal with the problem of abstractions and be introduced to another God.
The Problem with Abstractions
William of Ockham (1285-1347), a fourteenth century English cleric, alerted the people of his day, and of ours, to what he called A the worst error of philosophy.@ He warned us of the dangers and foolishness of assuming that abstractions are real. Only particulars are real, he asserts; abstractions are mere products of the mind, existing only in language. I believe that he got that right. Nevertheless, 700 year later, we continue to make the same mistake. For example, we experience ourselves as "willing," performing acts of willing. We willingly do some act, or will ourselves not to do another. Then, when we try to explain our acts of willing, we create an abstraction, called A the will,@ and make it the supposed source of our actions. We thus take A the will@ to be a real thing with power, and make it the cause of our actions. Thus, in many ways, A the will@ becomes more real than the concrete acts of willing it was invented to explain.
The problem with abstractions like this is that they fool us into thinking that they explain things when they simply name them. We might ask, for example, why objects fall towards the earth. The answer? Because of A gravity.@ And what, we may ask, is gravity? Why, it= s the force that makes things fall towards the earth. And how do you know gravity exists? Well, because, everything falls toward the earth. . . You see the problem, I hope. Gravity is not an explanation for why things fall toward the earth. It is simply a description of the fact that they do. Lest you think I= m making all this up, I can assure you that Sir Isaac Newton himself saw this very problem and finally concluded that he did not know what gravity is, but he was confident in his precise description of what it does. This is a good example to follow. I want to suggest we can learn something of vital importance by concentrating on actions, rather than believing in the reality and the power of abstractions.
Bear with me as we consider some more compelling and relevant examples. How about the project of acquiring certain virtues. We may , for example, desire A integrity,@ as well we should. Of what could integrity consist other than to act consistently with one= s professed beliefs? Thus, when properly understood, our task is not to acquire integrity, but to act in a particular, consistent way. Similarly, we may have endless debates about the nature of Alove,@ with all of its endlessly nuanced definitions, all the while overlooking that love exists really as loving acts. Thus, the challenge of life is to act lovingly, not to understand and acquire some abstract quality of love. To exalt abstractions over actions leads to privileging ideas over behavior. We seek rationality B the cognitive B as a guide in our lives rather than seeking models of virtue to whom we can apprentice ourselves. The rational becomes more important than the material consequences of our actions in the lives of all those around us.
To get to the heart of today= s topic, consider the following. We believe the first two principles of the gospel are faith and repentance. We can now ask ourselves whether faith is best understood as an abstraction which we must acquire, or wait for it to distill upon us, or whether faith, inherently consists of a way of living B faithfully B based on our confidence in god, our experience with the spirit, and our tasting of the sweet fruits of living the commandments. Surely this non-abstract, action-based nature of faith was what James had in mind when he wrote:
Even so faith, if it hath not works is dead, being alone.
Yea, a man may say, Thou hast faith, and I have works: shew me thy faith without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works
. . . and by works was faith made perfect . . .(James 2: 17-18,22).
We might ask a similar question regarding repentance. Ought we to understand repentance as a mere abstraction, as a process having in itself the power to wring forgiveness out of an offended universe? Or, perhaps we can profit from understanding repentance as action, a way of living, a deeply-felt crucifixion of the man of sin, hating sin, developing a broken, sorrowful heart, offering the heart to our Father and His Christ, desiring good, longing for peace and for approval, and Agiving away all [our ]sins to know [God] . . .@ (Alma 22:18, emphasis added). I fear that so long as repentance is an abstraction we may miss the active nature of it, and we may overlook Him who plays the most active role of all.
Which brings us to my final example. We all know, and believe, that salvation and eternal life are made possible by and through the atonement of Christ. However, if we are not careful, we may begin to look at the atonement itself as a powerful abstraction possessing in itself hidden processes that have power to save. In doing this, however, we may forget that we are not saved by an abstraction. We are saved by a person. Do we understand things in a new light if we remember that the atonement is not an abstraction, but the description of what Jesus Christ did for us, and, indeed what he continues to do? It is to him we must look, and not to an abstraction. It is he whom we love. We cannot love an abstraction. The Savior taught the Nephites:
. . . and this is the gospel which I have given unto you B that I came into the world to do the will of my Father . . . that I might be lifted up upon the cross . . . that I might draw all men unto me . . . (3 Nephi 27:13-14).
Notice here that the gospel is equated with the actions of the Savior himself and not an abstract principle or proposition.
The God of Philosophy
I apologize if this journey through medieval scholastic philosophy, and through what may seem like obscure philosophical distinctions has been dreary and sterile. It must seem so in large part because abstractions themselves, divorced from the concrete actions of gods and persons which give life and meaning, really are dreary and sterile. My purpose has been to set forth the conceptual grounds for understanding the god of philosophy (This term is not meant to be an indictment of philosophy, but merely the pedigree of an idea). The tendency of humans to create abstractions and endow them with causal power and to consider them to be more perfect and more real than concrete acts of real embodied beings reaches its full theological stature in the god defined and described by the philosophies of men, forged in the furnaces of intellect, and fashioned by the dim light of apostasy. The traditional god of Christianity is the ultimate abstraction. Without body, parts, or passions, this god is better referred to by the pronoun Ait,@ than by Ahe." This god is admired and worshiped chiefly because of its knowledge, intellect, and power. That he (or it) would care for us is more mystery than anything else, and because it is a mystery how a god who either is pure abstract principle, or is bound and determined by abstract principle, could love us and care for us, that very love and care are always tenuous and uncertain. Certainly if god is understood to be only the nexus of an intricate web of abstract laws and principles it is difficult to see how he can deal with us except indirectly through the operation of those principles, and it is difficult to develop motivations for obedience to god that are more sophisticated and more pure than simple fear of the consequences of laws and principles. The admonition to A fear God,@ (Ecclesiastes 12:13; 2 Nephi 28:28), takes on a fearful character indeed when God is understood to be the principle of operation of the cosmos. It would be something rather like the admonition one might give to a person clinging precariously to the edge of a great precipice, to Afear gravity.@
Now, where did this god, the god of philosophy come from? Why is it a part of our modern culture? We are taught that the period referred to as the Great Apostasy was brought on by the death of the Apostles of the Lord, and by the drift within the Christian Church toward the dominant doctrines, philosophies, and sins of the day. As the apostles perished and either could not or did not see fit to call other A special witnesses,@ there were soon no authorities among the people who could say AI saw . . .@ or AThus saith the Lord . . .@ (see The World and the Prophets by Hugh Nibley for readable account of this state of affairs and its implications). Well meaning Christians were faced with the task of keeping the church alive and defending it from attack both inside and out. It is not surprising then, that they turned to Greek philosophy which was the most sophisticated and respected doctrine of its day. The rational methods of Greek philosophy provided effective means B it must surely have appeared B of defending the faith, and justifying, or rationally proving, the existence of god and the reasonableness of Christian beliefs. One major consequence of this strategy B however well intentioned it may have been B was that the abstractions which were the foundation of Greek philosophy also became the foundation of Christian theology. The God of Christianity became the non-physical, unembodied entity best understood as a rationally necessary first cause, or the unmoved mover, that power necessary to the existence of all other things, akin to pure thought that thinks only itself, or sufficient reason. This god is so different from us that it cannot be comprehended or known directly, only by analogy, or indirectly by inference from the imperfect and temporary world. This god can be Aseen@ in nature, and in the lawful patterns and principles that operate throughout the universe, or intuited from mystical experiences that resist plain understanding and are not usually adequately communicated to others. Faith became a type of positive thinking, something to fill the void between us and the essentially unknowable. Theology was born.
It is worth pointing out that although what I have said here characterizes theology, the official religious doctrines of traditional Christianity, the experience of individual Christians has always been more private and spirit-filled, for God has continued to work with his children even in those times of darkness when he was relatively unknown by them. Nonetheless, what I have described here was roughly the state of organized Christian religion in the nineteenth century, at the time of the Restoration. The appearance of the Father and the Son to Joseph Smith was, in itself, a refutation of all prevailing theologies. It is little wonder that Joseph once remarked that a man could learn more by gazing into heaven for an hour than he could through all the theologies available. However, the events of the restoration have not entirely done away with all the deeply ingrained ways of thinking that arose during the centuries while the fullness of the gospel was not available. The power of abstractions, and the effects of thinking of our religion and our relationship with God in terms of abstractions, is difficult to overcome. It is my belief and my testimony that they are fully overcome through our coming to know the God of Condescension.
The God of Condescension
I want now to set the stage for the God of Condescension, a God made known to us with overwhelming clarity in the scriptures of the restoration. In modern scripture we can find two places where God had the perfect opportunity to express in clear terms, to a prophet who had literally seen everything, the laws and principles B the abstractions B by which he and the universe operate, if, indeed, such laws and principles were the operative forces. But he did not. Instead, following Moses= s vision recorded in Moses, Chapter 1, God declared:
For behold, this is my work and my glory B to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man (Moses 1:39).
The secret shown to Moses was not an abstraction, but a work, a family, the active involvement of a God who has a purpose and who intervenes in the lives of his children.
Likewise, after Enoch was shown all the inhabitants of the earth and all its generations, and the spectacle of the work of salvation (Moses 7:21-27), he recorded, not his understanding of the abstract principles of heaven, but rather, he bore his witness that the God of heaven wept (Moses 7:28). As he pressed for an explanation of this he was told the source of this consummate sorrow. It was that God had:
. . . given commandment, that [his children] should love one another, and that they should choose him, their Father; but . . . they [were] without affection, and they hate their own blood . . . (Moses 7:33, emphasis added).
When the Lord could have expressed the Gospel in abstraction, he spoke of his sorrow and of his relationship to his children. Furthermore he showed Enoch the fulfillment of his promised response to the predicament of his children. Thus, Enoch Abeheld the Son of Man lifted up on the cross after the manner of men . . .@ (Moses 7:55), and the spirits in prison delivered. It is this act, which drew Enoch= s focus, that I want to focus our attention on, for this is the ultimate signature act of the God of Condescension.
In Lehi=s vision recorded by Nephi in 1 Nephi, Chapter 8, he A. . . beheld a tree whose fruit was desirable to make one happy.@ When Lehi partook, he found that fruit to be A. . . most sweet, above all [he] ever before tasted,@ and A. . . it filled [his] soul with exceeding great joy" (1 Nephi 8:11-12, emphasis added). Later, Nephi wanted to know the interpretation of this tree and the fruit. He is given that interpretation in 1 Nephi, Chapter 11, and here it might be helpful to turn to the scriptures and work through them.
In verse 11, Nephi asks for an interpretation of the tree he had just been shown B the same one that Lehi had seen. Here he might have been lectured on the nature of Alove,@ or on the abstract symbolism of Atrees@ and A fruit,@ but instead, he was told to look. In verse 13 he sees Jerusalem and Nazareth, and an exceedingly fair virgin B and then (in verse 16) the question: AKnowest thou the condescension of God?@ This word, Acondescension@ is a very interesting word. It=s literal meaning, derived from its Latin roots, is coming down, or descending, to be with someone. In the English of Joseph Smith= s time we find the following definitions of the word Acondescend:@
To descend from the privileges of superior rank or dignity, to do some act to an inferior, which strict justice . . . does not require.
To stoop or descend; to yield, to submit; implying a relinquishment of rank, or dignity of character (Webster= s Dictionary, 1828).
Nephi is told (in verse 18) that this virgin is Athe mother of the Son of God, after the manner of the flesh.@ Then he sees the child and is told (in verse 21) that this child is A. . . the Son of The Eternal Father. . .@ and asked whether he now understands the meaning of the tree of life and its fruit. From what he had seen, and by the power of the Spirit, he did know, and answered (in verse 22) that A. . . it is the love of God, which sheddeth itself abroad in the hearts of the children of men; wherefore it is the most desirable above all things.@ And the angel reminded him (in verse 23) that it was also, A. . . the most joyous to the soul.@ He knew that love was not an abstraction, but that it is most clearly understood in the person of an embodied God, and most exquisitely expressed in his condescension.
Later in this same chapter Nephi sees the ministry of the Savior among mankind. And then, he witnesses the ultimate act of condescension:
. . . And I . . . beheld the Lamb of God, that he was taken by the people; yea, the Son of the everlasting God was judged of the world; and I saw and bear record. And I, Nephi, saw that he was lifted up upon the cross and slain for the sins of the world (1 Nephi 11:32-33).
Nephi= s brother, Jacob, taught:
. . . for it behooveth the great Creator that he suffereth himself to become subject unto man in the flesh, and die for all men, that all men might become subject unto him (1 Nephi 9:5).
And the prophet, Alma, taught his son, Corianton:
And now, the plan of mercy could not be brought about except an atonement should be made; therefore God himself atoneth for the sins of the world, to bring about the plan of mercy, to appease the demands of justice, that God might be a perfect, just God, and a merciful God also (Alma 41:15).
The purpose of the great condescension of God was to bring about mercy. If mercy was his purpose, mercy must have certainly been his motivation also. Condescension is not in the repertoire of the god of philosophy. It is generally explained as a mystery, or the revelation of some attribute of God; but the Book of Mormon is clear. It is God himself, motivated by mercy, who condescends with his whole soul. Again, in Alma, we get further insight into the heart of the God of Condescension. After recounting the very important detail of Jesus= s mortal birth, Alma explains:
And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.
And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities (Alma 7:11-12).
The intent of God= s great condescension was to bring about mercy. It also made possible repentance as our access to mercy. As Alma explains this, it becomes clear that in the context provided by God= s condescension, the concept of Alaw@ is very different than Alaw@ as an abstraction in the context of the god of philosophy:
And behold, this is the whole meaning of the law, every whit pointing to the great and last sacrifice; and the great and last sacrifice will be the Son of God, yea, infinite and eternal.
And thus he shall bring salvation to all those who shall believe on his name; this being the intent of this last sacrifice, to bring about the bowels of mercy, which overpowereth justice, and bringeth about means unto men that they may have faith unto repentance.
And thus mercy can satisfy the demands of justice, and encircles [us] in the arms of safety . . . (Alma 34:14-15, emphasis added).
Being encircled in the arms of mercy is a much more powerful image once we understand that the God of Condescension has literal arms, and not just metaphorical arms.
For many religions in the world, and even for some Christians who are relieved not to believe that God could really condescend in order to suffer, it is untoward and degrading to believe that their god should suffer. It is beneath the dignity of a god to experience this. Because of modern scripture and revelation we know that our god indeed suffered. In Paul= s words, Awe have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin@ (Hebrews 5:15). Because we have a Savior who can be touched, says Paul, A Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need@ (Hebrews 5:16).
My young friend, to whom I referred earlier, did not understand how to go boldly unto the throne of grace because grace seemed like an abstraction, because the god of philosophy seemed so abstract. I have not been immune from falling into a similar trap. When I was in graduate school Camille and I became friends with a Hindu couple. On one occasion, I spoke about religion with the husband. He explained that, to the Hindu, Christianity seems like a morally soft religion because it teaches that it is always possible to avoid the effects of one= s bad actions, in contrast to the inevitability of the consequences of our actions brought about by Karma according to the Hindu faith. I must admit that my first impulse was to quickly respond, ANow wait a minute! My religion is just as strict and austere as yours! Don= t tell me we let people off too easily!@ The strictness of the law had suddenly become a matter of pride. I had not yet come boldly B or humbly B to the throne of Grace. I have now learned better.
It is important for us to know also that the God of Condescension is still at work. One of the most comforting passages in all of scripture is found in the Doctrine & Covenants 45: 3-5, where Jesus, the God of Condescension, teaches us what it means for him to be our advocate:
Listen to him who is the advocate with the Father, who is pleading your cause before him B Saying: Father, behold the sufferings and death of him who did no sin, in whom thou wast well pleased: behold the blood of thy Son which was shed, the blood of him whom thou gavest that thyself might be glorified;
Wherefore, Father, spare these my brethren that believe on my name, that they may come unto me and have everlasting life (Doctrine & Covenants 45: 3-5).
Notice here, that in addition to the use of the present perfect tense of the verb (Apleading@), we see that, in making a case s for us before our Father, Christ refers to no principle, to no abstraction or law. Rather, he makes reference to the concrete act performed by him as an act of pure condescension in the same world in which we live and sin. No merely abstract, detached deity can do this for us.
We who have the restored gospel are blessed to know more about the atonement and what it felt like than any other people (see Doctrine and Covenants 19:13-20). Every Christian can read the account in the New testament. We learn much of the God of Condescension from these accounts. We learn that as the weight of the sins of mankind began to distill upon him he was Asore amazed@ (Mark 14:33). Surely he had not known what this felt like. In the midst of his suffering in the Garden of Gethsemane, from Luke=s account (Luke 22:39-45), he prayed fervently that the cup of suffering might be taken, but he prayed also to do the Father=s will. We are told also that Athere appeared an angel from heaven, strengthening him@ (Luke 22:43). May I submit that no abstraction could possibly have motivated such suffering. No commitment, however strong to any abstraction could have sustained him. What comfort he received came not from principle but from a real being sent from God, giving him strength, perhaps to suffer yet more. We have the same promise. Only Christ=s knowing us, and loving us, and his love for the Father, could have motivated and sustained him through such suffering as this. Only a concrete act by an immortal God with feelings could have generated the breadth and power of feeling sufficient to bring about mercy great and real enough to encircle us all.
As I have struggled to come to know the God of Condescension, I have been struck by something I had known conceptually, but which had never entered my heart. We know by all accounts that Christ entered the Garden of Gethsemane to pray alone three times. What I had not noticed was that twice he re-entered Gethsemane knowing perfectly well what it felt like. He went back with full knowledge of the pain. Such was the perfection of his condescension. May we know this God, and love him. Of him I bear testimony and offer it in his holy name. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.