Gregory of Nazianzus received the title “the theologian,” only one of three people in church history to receive the accolade (John the Apostle and Symeon being the other two). The title “theologian” meant that he knew God by experience. But his experience of God was matched by his brilliant study of God. His Trinitarian and Christological explanations not only changed the landscape of theology in his day but have stood the test of time. Quite literally, nearly every Christian living today follows Gregory Nazianzen whether they know it or not.
For the last two years, Gregory has been my friend and teacher. Although he is away in body, through his words on the page he has become a close companion. He has lifted my soul to worship the living God and helped me to understand in whom it is that I have placed my trust. For the next few years, I will periodically provide short translations of Gregory’s work with an interpretation for my edification and, I hope, for yours.
Oration 29
Oration 29 constitutes the third of Gregory’s five theological orations. He preached them in Constantinople to a rather hostile audience. At one point early in his church planting career in the city, people threw rocks at him. So he had to hire security.
In any case, the five theological orations would become the gold standard for biblical and theological discussions about God. Gregory drew on the Bible and four-hundred years of theological reflection. And what came out was a crystallizing of Christian theology on the Trinity. Below is a translation of section 2 of the oration in which Gregory
Translation of Oration 29.2
There are three ancient opinions concerning God: anarchy, polyarchy, and monarchy. The children of the Greeks entertained and played with the first two. For anarchy tends to disorder while polyarchy tends to discord and thus anarchy and thereby disorder. Both lead to the same end, disorder that leads to dissolution because disorder is the preparation for dissolution.
But for us, monarchy is the most honourable. And [I mean a] monarchy not demarcated by one person—for even one principle may be in discord to itself so as to bring itself into a state of plurality. Rather, [I mean a monarchy] constituted by an equal honour of nature, a unity of judgments, and an identity of movement and a convergence towards the unity of those [who are] from it (this is impossible for created nature). The result is that it differs by number yet does not divide the substance.
Because of this, the Monad “from the arche” (John 1:1) when it moves into a Dyad comes to rest at a Triad. And for us, this is the Father and Son and Holy Spirit. The Father begets and produces, I say, impassibly, timelessly, and incorporeally. Of these, the begotten and the produced, I am not sure what we should call these things when entirely drawn from things visible.
For we are not now bold to speak of an “overflow of goodness” which a certain one from the Greek philosophers was bold to say, “as when a certain bowl overflows”—clearly thus he said among those he philosophized concerning the first and second cause. We should never let enter an involuntary generation (which is some natural and unrestrained overflow), which is the least appropriate kind of thought about God.
For this reason, establishing [them] for our boundaries, we use “the Unbegotten,” and “Begotten,” and “what Proceeds from the Father,” as the God and Word himself said somewhere” (John 15:26).
Interpretation
There are three ancient opinions concerning God: anarchy, polyarchy, and monarchy. The children of the Greeks entertained and played with the first two. For anarchy tends to disorder while polyarchy tends to discord and thus anarchy and thereby disorder. Both lead to the same end, disorder that leads to dissolution because disorder is the preparation for dissolution.
Gregory identifies three traditional ways of conceiving of God. We call them atheism, polytheism, and monotheism today. Greeks tended towards anarchy, a sort of view where no gods have control. And so it leads to “disorder.” The same is true of polyarchy because the gods fight and bicker with one another, resulting in anarchy. And anarchy leads to disorder.
But for us, monarchy is the most honourable. And [I mean a] monarchy not demarcated by one person—for even one principle may be in discord to itself so as to bring itself into a state of plurality. Rather, [I mean a monarchy] constituted by an equal honour of nature, a unity of judgments, and an identity of movement and a convergence towards the unity of those [who are] from it (this is impossible for created nature). The result is that it differs by number yet does not divide the substance.
The Christian monarchial God does not refer to one person reigning. Rather, it means that an equal, united, and identical triad reigns. The substance remains one but the persons are three.
Because of this, the Monad “from the arche” (John 1:1) when it moves into a Dyad comes to rest at a Triad. And for us, this is the Father and Son and Holy Spirit. The Father begets and produces, I say, impassibly, timelessly, and incorporeally. Of these, the begotten and the produced, I am not sure what we should call these things when entirely drawn from things visible.
The Monad from eternity (or from the Father) moved into a Dyad and came to rest at a Triad. And this all happened through an equality of nature, a unity of judgments, and an identical movement of the three (as Gregory said above). These three are Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. And their movement to a Triad happens “impassibly, timelessly, and incorporeally.”
Yet Gregory admits our language fails to capture the fullness of the divine nature because we draw our evidence from “things visible.” But God is invisible by nature. So somehow a Monad moved to a Triad but outside of any sort of conceivable human setting. Eternally, the Monad moved to a Dyad and rested at Three.
And we call these Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Of one substance, a unified will, and an identical movement, they are what they are outside of passion, time, and corporality.
According to P. Gallay, the word “rest” takes a gnomic sense applicable to being outside of time, which is what “from the arche” refers to (Sources Chretienne 250, fn 1, p 180). Hence, Wickham translates the phrase “from the arche” as “eternally” or “eternally changes” (2002: p 70)
It almost seems like Gregory plays on words here. the Monas from the Arche, or monarchy moves identically with the Dyad and so to the Triad, which by its identical movement, comes to rest. Perhaps he refers to the Triad’s infinity, which makes its movement according to corporeal movement moot. It moves yet cannot move since it is everywhere and therefore at rest.
For we are not now bold to speak of an “overflow of goodness” which a certain one from the Greek philosophers was bold to say, “as when a certain bowl overflows”—clearly thus he said among those he philosophized concerning the first and second cause. We should never let enter an involuntary generation (which is some natural and unrestrained overflow), which is the least appropriate kind of thought about God.
Gregory protects against God somehow unwillingly overflowing into a Triad. God has always willed to be as he is.
For this reason, establishing [them] for our boundaries, we use “the Unbegotten,” and “Begotten,” and “what Proceeds from the Father,” as the God and Word himself said somewhere” (John 15:26).
And that’s why our language should match the biblical idiom. The Son is “Begotten,” the Father by necessity is “Unbegotten,” and the Spirit “Proceeds from the Father.” The language protects against some sort of unfitting theory about God’s overflowing nature. And it speaks about God fittingly given the weakness of our ability to describe the invisible God with visible evidence.
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