Chapter 4: The Church Seeking to Know Itself

We turn now to Bonhoeffer’s work, Christ, the Center. The choice is an arbitrary one, but perhaps not without justification. The lectures entitled Creation and Fall could well be considered next, because the questions raised in Creation and Fall brought Bonhoeffer to consider the place of Christ.

Christology is fundamental to Bonhoeffer’s thought, yet in turning to the Christology we have an unusual problem. The Christology lectures are reconstructions of notes taken by students. Eberhard Bethge, the man who knows Bonhoeffer most intimately, reconstructed them, and their accuracy is enhanced by his position and understanding of Bonhoeffer. The lectures were delivered in the summer semester of 1933 at the University of Berlin. Intended to be complete in three parts, Bonhoeffer only finished two of them.

QUESTIONS ABOUT CHRIST

The introduction places the question of Christology in its setting. Christology must be studied by the worshiping community. The Word of God, the Logos, is not an idea which cannot be worshiped, but a person. How does one understand a person? The meaningful question is: Who are you? The wrong questions are: What are you? or How can you be what you are?

Bonhoeffer rejects two questions in Christology. The first is: How should the Incarnation be conceived? The early church foundered on this one. The second is: What is this being? Modern liberal theology foundered on this question. The New Testament and, of course, Bonhoeffer’s inspiration, Luther, followed the middle path. The central question is: Who is this Person?

Bonhoeffer questions the traditional rubric of theology, "the person and work of Christ."1 The question was asked: "Does the work interpret the person or the person the work?" Bonhoeffer agrees with Luther that the person determines the meaning of the work, not the other way around. The work may appear good, but it could have been done by the devil. If the person is primary, then an "example-type" religion is out, because Jesus is the Son of God. A merely idealistic founder can be imitated, but the Son of God does a work which I am not capable of imitating. All avenues to God are excluded through the self-revelation in Christ wherein is learned his work. "If I know who the person is who does this, I will also know what he does." But the separation of person and work is artificial. We have to do with the "whole Christ, the one Christ . . . [who] is the historical (geschictliche) Jesus. . .2

Christ, the Center is divided into two parts. The first is "The Present Christ — The ‘Pro Me’." It emphasizes the contemporaneity of Christ and what he is for me. Two theological statements serve as the basis of Bonhoeffer’s views. First, "Jesus is the Christ present as the Crucified and Risen One." Second, "Christ is present in the church as a person."3 In clarifying his position Bonhoeffer rejects any understanding of Christ as an influence, a force, or anything short of being a person. Further, Christ must not be viewed as something outside history. Rather, Christ is a historical person who, because of the resurrection, still confronts men in history on a personal basis. Perhaps a third statement summarizes his position on Christology: Jesus Christ is all of this — for me.

Granting these assertions, Christ is said to confront men in three ways. (1) In the Word. The Word is not met as an idea, which is abstract and timeless, but as person. An idea demands no commitment, but a person-to-person communication demands a response. In being confronted with the Word, man is "put in the truth." Thus Christ does not declare a way to God, but is the way. Ideas are held by man, but the Logos holds man.4

(2) In the sacrament. Bonhoeffer presents a Lutheran view of Christ as sacrament. "The Word in the sacrament is an embodied Word." Not all of nature is a sacrament, only the creaturely elements which "God addresses, names and hallows with his special Word," that is, with Jesus Christ. "This Word Jesus Christ is wholly present in the sacrament, not only his Godhead, and not only his manhood."5 Symbolic interpretations of the sacrament are rejected: the sacraments "do not mean something, they are something."6

Bonhoeffer attempts to resolve the differences between Lutherans and Calvinists by denying the validity of the questions they raised. The "how" of the sacrament brought up the Calvinist question of how Christ’s bodily limitations in heaven could be present in the sacrament. The Lutherans answered with their communication of attributes of the divine nature, or the doctrine of the ubiquity of his flesh. This question is rejected. One may only ask, "Who is present in the sacrament?" The answer is: "The whole person of the God-man is present in his exaltation and his humiliation; Christ exists in such a way that he is existentially present in the sacrament."7

(3) In the community. Christ as community speaks of the presence of Christ in the church. This means "that the Logos of God has extension in space and time in and as the community."8 "The Word is in the community in so far as the community is a recipient of revelation."9 To say that the community is the Body of Christ is not a metaphor, it is his body.

The contemporaneity of Christ is viewed from three perspectives: (1) Christ is the center of human existence. Although this cannot be demonstrated, the center of Christ is seen where man fails to fulfill the law and Christ is the fulfillment of it for man. (2) Christ is the center of history. Man’s history holds forth promise and fulfillment. The promise of history, being corrupted by sin, has experienced only corrupt messiahs, apart from that one in Israel in whom God fulfilled his promise.10 Like the first, this is proclaimed, not demonstrated. (3) Christ is "the Mediator between God and Nature."11 Nature, not being free and thereby not having guilt, cannot be reconciled, only redeemed. The sacrament, speaking of an old thing become a new creature, proclaims a word for nature. Christ is the liberator of creation.12

WRONG ANSWERS ABOUT CHRIST

In the second half of his work, Bonhoeffer speaks of the history of doctrines concerning Christ. The familiar distinction made by modern liberalism — the historical Jesus versus the Christ of faith — is rejected by Bonhoeffer. There is only one historical Jesus Christ.13 In this Bonhoeffer follows the conclusions of Martin Kahler.14 The Logos, who is personal, who is incarnate in Jesus of Nazareth, is confronted through the historical scriptural narratives and is known in no other way or form.

The history of Christology shows that the wrong questions have been asked: how rather than who? Bonhoeffer deals with the early heresies of doceticism, Ebionism, monophysitism, Nestorianism,15 and others, and concludes that the Council of

Chalcedon in A.D. 451 rightly condemned these early attempts to deal with an invalid question. He rejects the charge that Chalcedon was a compromise solution. Actually it safeguarded the real question: Who is incarnate in Jesus Christ?

Chalcedon’s conclusion gave impetus to theological development in Protestantism. Much of the development followed the "how" pattern. How can one relate the power of God to the powerlessness of man? How can God be tired, hungry, and thirsty? These questions cropped up in the Reformation. Luther gave the answer of the communicatio idiomatum, or the interpenetration of attributes of each nature.16 On the basis of the communicatio idiomatum, the Lutherans could say that the body of Jesus Christ is omnipresent and thereby affirm a real presence in the sacraments.

The Calvinistic tradition dissented by saying that Lutheran Christology is no longer talking about the Savior of the New Testament. The Lutheran view says that a change in God takes place, and that the real humanity of Christ is illusory.17 The human nature of Christ is taken up in the attributes of deity. Thereby Luther could be charged with reviving the ancient heresy of monophysitism.

The solutions of post-Lutheran orthodoxy developed a Christology around the humiliations of Christ. Two types arose: the Kenoticists, who spoke of Christ renouncing the use of his divine nature, and the Cryptics, who spoke of the powers of deity being concealed during the Incarnation. Bonhoeffer rejected these because neither the divinity nor the humanity of Jesus were made comprehensible. The touchstone for his Christology is Chalcedon. To this he returns repeatedly.

Although a section on the "Eternal Christ" was proposed, it was never completed, or did not survive. We can make some evaluations on what remains of his lectures. Very significant is the question of who, rather than how, in the Incarnation. The merit of establishing different ground rules in the Christological discussion is noteworthy. The avoidance of speculative questions which cannot be answered would have saved the early church much heartache. Bonhoeffer does appear arbitrary in some of his positions, however. A question in passing relates to his attitude toward "the hypothesis of the Virgin Birth."18 He regards the biblical evidence for it as indecisive and uncertain. One can justly wonder what hermeneutical principle Bonhoeffer employs to determine for himself that certain things are "biblical" and others are "not biblical." He accepts the miracles of Jesus as being genuine, although performed incognito. This appears to be an arbitrary distinction.

In another example he describes the sacrament as a stumbling block. In his attempt to rid Christianity of "religious elements" is arbitrariness not at work? Is not Bonhoeffer subject to the same criticism as many theologians? I may jettison as "religion" those items which are scandals to me, while those items I keep are the essential nature of Christianity. But in reality, what I keep may be a binding tradition which someone else is eager to cut out as being a "burden" to modern man. Is not the real scandal or stumbling block the fact that I choose to make it that? Is not the whole ecumenical movement stopped here? What is a scandal — verbal inspiration, for instance — to one may be the very nature of authority to another. In spite of these criticisms, Christ, the Center is a fruitful book for its emphasis on religious knowledge. If God is not incarnate in Jesus Christ, we have no knowledge of him that is worth knowing.

LECTURES ON GENESIS

In the winter semester of 1932-33, Bonhoeffer gave a series of lectures on the first three chapters of Genesis. They were well received by his students, who persuaded him to publish them. They appeared in 1937 under the title Schopfung und Fall (Creation and Fall) 19 The lectures present a theological rather than exegetical exposition of the Genesis chapters. Bonhoeffer’s interest in Christo-ecclesiology still prevails in these lectures. Particular attention is directed toward the Bible as the book of the church.

The chapters reflect the outline of Genesis. The beginning is treated not as a point in time which man cannot know, but is referred to the One who was there — God. It is impossible to search behind God’s creative act. Creation is a free act without cause or necessity. The God who creates is linked by Bonhoeffer to the God of the resurrection. No Marcionite 20 gnosticism is permitted. The resurrection of Christ is essentially a creation out of nothing and by it we know of the original creation. God the beginning is at the same time the end of man.

God the Creator stands over the waters in creation. No ancient cosmogonic identification of God and the world is permitted. God gives it form and direction, but he himself is glorified in the creation. In fact, Bonhoeffer declares that "God is worshiped first by the earth,"21 which might raise questions about worship as an act of free creatures toward a Creator.

God creates by his Word. Speaking is akin to freedom. Because God works in the world as transcendent, we know him only by means of the Word. The ways of knowing God by natural theology (eminence, negation, and causality) are rejected because of the revelatory Word.22 Indeed, it is not true to speak of the creation as an "effect" of the Creator. To reason from effect to cause means that God "had" to create. More correctly God created in freedom without necessity. The world God created is "good," but this does not mean that this is the best of all possible worlds. Its goodness "consists in its being under the dominion of God."23 God continues to uphold the creation (the doctrine of preservation).

In writing of the second day of creation, Bonhoeffer rejects its "ancient world picture in all its scientific naivete."24 The question arises as to why he should be so rigid in his rejection of this account, when earlier the point is labored that we cannot know anything of the beginnings.25 In spite of this problem, he introduces the concept of fixedness in which the laws of days, years, and seasons are understood.

With the appearance of various forms of living beings, God gives this kind of being the power to continue life. God is Lord of the living, not the dead. Yet the living is nothing divine, only creaturely. Without the sustaining power of God the universe would "sink back into nothingness."26 God’s real creativity is reflected only in man. The previous works assume the form of his command. In man God began a new creation. God’s image in man means that man is free, but it is a freedom "for" something. Men are free "for" God and for one another. The freedom of man and God’s image are the same thing. Bonhoeffer rejects the analogy of being (analogia entis) for an analogy of relation (analogia relationis). The analogy of relationship is not a likeness of being, but a relation in which freedom is given. 27 Man in freedom was to rule the earth, but man’s sin has made him the ruled. Paradoxically, man could only rule when he was under the dominion of God.

Chapter two of Genesis is treated in the same manner. Genesis 2 is regarded as an older account than Genesis 1, perhaps from a different source. Genesis 1 gives an account of the transcendent God, while Genesis 2 speaks of his nearness to man. The garden story (2:8-17) is regarded by the world as a fantastic myth, while the church looks upon the story as "our pre-history, truly our own." 28 The imagery must be translated into "the new picture language of the technical world," 29 but it is a story that is to be taken seriously. The anthropomorphisms of the chapter may be offensive to modern thinking, but the picture of Yahweh’s creative activity in forming man is important. First, it points up who made me: God’s closeness indicates concern and nearness. Second, it shows whose I am. Regardless of how far I may run from him, I am yet his. The ultimate concern for man is seen in the closeness of God to man in the Incarnation. 30

Man’s origin merges two entities: spirit and matter. In common with other creatures of the earth, man has a body of substances. But only into man did God breathe the breath of life. Only then was man alive. Thus man is a living body, not a body who has a soul or a soul which has a body.

The second picture of chapter two is the garden. Two trees stand out — the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. The tree of life is in the middle, and Bonhoeffer speaks of our lives coming from the middle — God. Man’s life circles the middle but never grasps it. Life is a gift. But man’s life is real only as long as it exists in unbroken obedience. The tree of the knowledge of good and evil is set off-limits by a special word to Adam. The threat of death is joined to the command. How can Adam know the meaning of good and evil? What does this mean? To the free Adam, Bonhoeffer says, God is charting off his limitations. God is, in essence, saying, "You are a creature, Adam, be what you are." 31 Adam is limited and must live by God’s grace.

Bonhoeffer states that Adam could not know, before his disobedience, the meaning of good or evil. He says that Adam was beyond good and evil. 32 But is Bonhoeffer’s interpretation the correct one? Could not Adam know the meaning of good without the polarity of evil? Must we always experience evil before we know good? Did not Adam know good in knowing God? There is not a little of this in popular thinking — "you can’t know the good without the evil." Why not? Evil need not be justified solely for the sake of a definition. This would require some form of eternal dualism, for God could not know evil without its existence and the experience of it. Surely Bonhoeffer is weak at this point. Bonhoeffer raises the question of how Adam could do his monstrous deed, but he cannot give an answer to this unanswerable question.

According to Bonhoeffer, the marriage statement that the husband leaves father and mother to be with his wife reflects the application of the story by the writer. But the story has meaning beyond Adam, for we are that Adam, and marriage entails the leaving of the father and mother to become one. The profundity of this union — man and woman in the community of love — is related to the church, which shows its original form in Adam and Eve. 33 Where love exists there is no shame. Where shame prevails it is because one person cannot accept another as the gift of God.

Genesis 3 centers on the temptation, fall, and judgment of man. Bonhoeffer forbids the attempted identification of the serpent with the devil. To do so is to misplace the guilt which properly belongs only to man. This stresses also the "inconceivable, inexplicable, and inexcusable" nature of the event. However, it is not Adam alone who is guilty, for "I have committed evil in the midst of the primeval state of creation." 34 How this is done Bonhoeffer does not say.

The serpent’s approach is to question God’s word: "Did God say . . . ?" It is assumed that evil already exists in the world in some enigmatic form, although the creation is still "good." The serpent asks the first religious question which wraps evil in the garment of good. This question has contemporary significance: Did God really say that I should not steal, commit adultery, bear false witness? Will not my case be different from the others?

The second question undergirds the first and also contains some truth and some falsity. God did not restrict all the fruit of the garden, just some. But doubt was cast upon God’s goodness, which helped Eve come to the point of making judgments about God’s Word. Man’s resistance to the adversary’s question can only be met by saying "Begone, Satan" (Matt. 4:10).

The conversation progresses from statements concerning the correctness of God’s utterances to the question of why God uttered them. The integrity of God comes under attack: God is selfish about his existence and does not wish for you to share it. You will not die. You will become like him. What does it mean to become like God? It means casting off the desire to be a creature; it means freedom, the power to create, and placing oneself in the middle, "ordaining a new way of ‘being for God’." 35

Paradoxically, in wanting to be like God and gaining much of this, man loses God, life, and harmony. The fall, or man’s disobedience, results in man’s rejecting limitations on himself. Sin violates the tree, the other person, and humanity in general.

Three things are to be understood about the fall, says Bonhoeffer. First, the act in the first sin is inconceivable and without excuse. Rational explanations are merely accusations that try to place the blame on the Creator. Second, once in sin, man cannot go back to unsin. Third, Adam’s act is interrelated to Eve and vice versa. Thus "each man is guilty of the deed of the other." 36

Bonhoeffer makes a startling statement about the effects of the act of disobedience: "‘The end of the ways of God is bodiliness’." 37 The man and the woman realized, not good and evil, but their nakedness. Man’s existence is ruptured to the extent that he stands ashamed before the other. No longer accepting the other person in love is shame. Bodiliness relates to sexuality also. Up to this point sexuality was not divorced from the purpose of belonging to another. 38 But now the paradox of being both an individual as well as one with another is split. "Man and woman are divided," which means that each "puts forward his claim to the possession of the other. . . This avid passion of man for the other person first comes to expression in sexuality." 39 That is, man refuses to accept the limits of the other person. At the same time he covers himself, because nakedness is unity with the other, which is now lost. 40

It is possible to interpret Bonhoeffer as saying that sexuality arises from the fall of man, although he does speak of it in connection with Adam and Eve in their innocence. However, he also speaks of life created through unrestrained sexuality, because man is a dying creature-man is creative in his destruction of another person. To interpret nakedness in a sexual way probably raises more questions than it answers. Was procreation possible before the fall? Bonhoeffer at one point tends to imply that sex is evil. 41

The act of disobedience was followed by a flight into hiddenness. It is ludicrous to think that man can hide from God, but sin is never rational. Bonhoeffer calls this flight, conscience. Conscience speaks of a division in man, and conscience always puts man on the run from God. At the same time, conscience is deceptive in letting man think he can flee from God. Bonhoeffer does not equate conscience with the voice of God, but rather sees it serving as a defense against God’s Word. 42 The call of God to Adam, "Where are you?" is interpreted as God’s mercy attempting to keep man from hiding, from entering into self-reproach, self-torment, and religious despair. The command is for Adam to stand before God as he really is — a creature. Adam’s rationalizations of his actions are reflected before God in the actions of the woman, who in turn blames the serpent.

The fall brings both a curse and a promise. 43 The opposites of pain and pleasure both become alive for Adam and Eve. This is true for their relationship with one another, in their disharmonic world, and within themselves. Man is cursed in being cut off from the tree of life. He is promised new life in Christ. This parallel of curse and promise is also seen in Eve and Mary: the first and second beginnings.

Although man is naked before God, God made for him garments. There is no exposing of man to man by God. Bonhoeffer would not have accepted the current tendencies in religious psychology to strip away all masks and forms. Some masks are necessary, and God gives the example for it in making garments for Adam and Eve. At this point, Bonhoeffer shifts from speaking of God as creator to God as preserver. Henceforth God directs the world by means of ordinances. An ordinance is a directive designed to preserve life in the sinful world.

Following the clothing of man — God’s new action — man is driven out of the garden lest he eat of the tree of life and live forever. Ironically, man’s desire to live forever independently of God brought his death. In his desire to be like God, man now is like him — alone. God cuts off man’s access to him — sin naturally does this — and man assumes the lordship of a world that is mute and death-producing.

The story of Adam is the story of man’s history. Adam and Eve created life — Cain, who became the first murderer. The story repeats itself with greater intensity, for men have a greater desire to live and hence they destroy to do it. Only in Christ is there an end of the story in which man desires not his own life but commits it to Christ — whose cross becomes a tree of life — and thereby in dying to himself comes to live forever.

Bonhoeffer’s book is a profound attempt to interpret the Genesis narrative. It must not be mistaken for a critical, exegetical attempt. It is a theological interpretation that reads more into the accounts than is warranted. Thus the lectures are more devotional and sermonic than theological.

Bonhoeffer raises questions which traditional theology has answered, but which he finally skirts. The problem of the nature of man in Eden and the interrelatedness of Adam to mankind needs further explication. The question of the identification of the serpent, or who speaks through the serpent, and the questions of nakedness and sexuality need further explanation. One might question whether pain itself is evil and is a result of the fall, or whether the pain was more mental and psychological than physical? Regardless of its weaknesses, however, the book possesses dynamic insights into the meaning of the first three chapters of Genesis.

PRACTICAL ADVICE ON TEMPTATION

A work quite similar to Creation and Fall is the shorter work Versuchung (Temptation) . 44 It repeats some of the themes found in the former, but its occasion and setting were quite different. The former was a series of lectures in a university setting. Temptation was given over a five-day period in April 1937 to a group of clergymen of the Confessing Church to whom Bonhoeffer had been the chief mentor in the Finkenwalde seminary. The challenge to Christian living of the possibility of martyrdom — for any Christian — is posed as the ultimate threat.

The preliminary statement centers on the Lord’s Prayer, "Lead us not into temptation." This plea is set over against the natural inclination of the non-Christian to assert his own strength and be victor over the enemy. The Christian realizes the real truth that in temptation one is robbed of his own staying powers. Temptation implies an abandonment — by men, by God. Man is no match for the devil. For this reason he prays, "Lead us not into temptation." Temptation is experienced on occasions. It comes like the seasons. All of life is not a temptation; the Christian also knows seasons of joy and rest in the living God.

Adam’s temptation can instruct us in three things: (1) where there is innocence, there the tempter will come; (2) the tempter comes denying his origin by concealment; and (3) access to the innocent is gained by denial until the tempter has succeeded in turning the heart from God. 45 The innocence Bonhoeffer describes is "clinging to the Word of God with pure, undivided hearts." 46 The universal question that brings all men to sin is: "Has God said?"

Christ’s temptation was different from Adam’s — and harder. Christ assumed the burden of Adam’s flesh which was under condemnation. "Even Jesus Christ . . . was born with the question: ‘Has God really said?’ — yet without sin." 47

Alone in the wilderness, hungry and tired, Jesus was in a sense abandoned by God, and the tempter himself — without disguise — came to assault him. The first temptation was directed to the weakness of manhood — his flesh. To satisfy the needs of hunger is legitimate, but not at the expense of losing the redemption of mankind. Jesus’ reply was that he would depend upon the Word of God. The second temptation was spiritual. It was to "demand a sign from God," to charge God with guilt, to tempt God rather than lay claim to his promise and walk by faith. The third temptation Bonhoeffer designates as the "complete temptation." Jesus’ allegiance to God was at stake. Satan opposed his power and rule against God’s, and asked for deliberate apostasy from God.

The defense of Jesus in all three temptations was the "saving, supporting, enduring Word of God." 48 Because Jesus was tempted — and is the risen Savior — our temptation is no longer specifically our own. "Lead us not into temptation" has meaning because Christ was victor over temptation in our flesh. Because we are linked to Christ, Bonhoeffer declares that "we are not tempted, Jesus Christ is tempted in us. " 49 To share in his atoning life is also to share his triumph. Knowing that he has won the victory, that we are not tempted alone, gives us the help we need.

Bonhoeffer is quite to the point on the sources of temptation. The devil is the author of temptation, and his illusory claim to man is: You "can live without God’s word." 50 He offers to men peace, happiness, and power — none of which he has. The devil’s temptation involves separating man from God and accusing man in his sin to God. Job’s temptation serves as an example of the latter. To separate man from God the devil uses robbery, sickness, and rejection. The tempted must recognize his enemy, for he can be overcome. This is done — in part — by unmasking Satan’s lies.

The second source of temptation is man’s lust. When the adversary is recognized, man cannot blame him for sin. Man’s evil desires must be accorded the most significant role in temptation. Mine is the guilt when I say "I will."

The third source is God himself. Bonhoeffer approves of St. James’s statement that God tempts no one (James 1:12, 13), but there was a real testing of men in the Old Testament. The temptation of God is his abandonment for a time of his servant. Even Satan who is in God’s power is used against his will to God’s service. Satan works in three ways: (1) in temptation he leads men to see their own weaknesses; (2) he brings suffering to the tempted; and (3) at Satan’s hand the sinner dies. 51 But when Satan works and obtains his "rights," he is destroyed. And, more important, when man comes to a knowledge of sin and is deserving of death, he has a greater understanding of the meaning of salvation in Jesus Christ.

"Resistance to the devil is only possible in the fullest submission to the hand of God." 52 The Christian must accept the truth of 1 Corinthians 10:13 that God will not let him be subjected to temptations above his strength but will make a way of escape. Thus the Christian need have no fear of temptation as long as he knows that in Christ it can be conquered.

The temptations we face parallel those of Jesus. Desire of any kind — power, sex, fame, money — turns off joy in God for enjoyment of creaturehood. Bonhoeffer’s analysis of smoldering desire, forgetfulness of God, and man’s self-vindication are incisive. Against desire one must hold to the image of the Savior and his power. Resistance in temptation is out of the question; fleeing is the answer. The flight to the Crucified gives help.

The second temptation of the flesh is suffering. General suffering is in some way connected with the devil. 53 God does not will suffering of any kind. This is linked with sin and man’s rebellion against God — not necessarily specific sins, but sin in general. The Christian should receive suffering in protest against the work of the devil but at the same time use it to strengthen faith rather than to defect from it. When Job was deprived of everything, he rested solely in God.

Unlike general suffering, which may come to anyone, the Christian may suffer for Christ’s sake. This too is a temptation. Suffering for Christ’s sake may mean one of several things: (1) it may drive one to apostasy which would be tragic; (2) it may drive one deeper into the arms of Christ; (3) it may mean that one suffers the judgment of God upon the household of faith (1 Pet. 4:18); (4) one is allowed the joy of suffering for Christ in a meaningful, purposeful way.

Man’s temptations of the spirit parallel the second temptation of Jesus. Two temptations are mentioned. Securitas (spiritual pride) is the temptation to sin that God’s grace may abound. With this is connected the hardening of the heart and a provocation of the wrath of God. Desperatio (despair) is the fruit of wanting to put God to the test. Inability to rest in God’s promises leads to despair. Bonhoeffer’s advice is practical: (1) don’t argue about your sins with anyone but God; (2) remind the devil that Jesus called the sinners, not the righteous, to repentance. This last temptation is the complete one. To give in to this temptation is to make an alliance with Satan for which there is no forgiveness.

To the departing pastors, Bonhoeffer gave a final word that the defense against temptation is the armor of God described in Ephesians 6. It is God who gives, clothes, arms, and shields us. And so, Bonhoeffer says, we pray, "Lead us not into temptation" knowing that Jesus has conquered temptation for all time.

Temptation reveals the pastoral insight and concern of Bonhoeffer. This quality, expressed also in the next work, Life Together, serves to make Bonhoeffer attractive not only to Protestant but also to Roman Catholic readers.

 

NOTES:

1. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Christ, the Center, trans. John Bowden (New York: Harper & Row, 1966), p. 37.

2. Ibid., p. 40.

3. Ibid., p. 43.

4. Ibid., pp. 49-52.

5. Ibid., p. 54.

6. Ibid., p. 55. 7. Ibid., p. 58.

8. Ibid., p. 60.

9. Ibid.

10. Ibid., p. 64.

11. Ibid., p. 66.

12. Ibid., p. 67.

13. Ibid., pp. 71-72.

14. Martin Kahler, The So-Called Historical Jesus and the Historic Biblical Christ, trans. Carl Braaten (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1964).

15. Doceticism denied the real manhood of Jesus while the Ebionites denied his divinity. The monophysites regarded the divine and human as merged into a third entity, while the Nestorians hardly admitted a union of the divine and human natures of Jesus Christ.

16. Christ the Center, p. 93. Thus one could say that "the man (Jesus) is God and that God is man" (pp. 94-95).

17. Ibid., p. 95.

18. Ibid., p. 109.

19. Creation and Fall, trans. John C. Fletcher (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1959). (In same volume with Temptation.)

20. Marcion was one of the first to draw up a list of accepted Scriptures of the New Testament. He rejected the Old Testament and regarded the God of the Old Testament as different from the God of the New Testament.

21. Creation and Fall, p. 20.

22. Ibid., p. 23.

23. Ibid., p. 25.

24. Ibid., p. 29.

25. Ibid., p. 17.

26. Ibid., p. 34.

27. Ibid., p. 39.

28. Ibid., p. 50.

29. Ibid.

30. Ibid., p.48.

31. Ibid., p. 52.

32. Ibid., p. 53.

33. Ibid., p. 62.

34. Ibid., p. 65.

35. Ibid., p. 73.

36. Ibid., p. 76.37. Ibid., p. 77.

38. Ibid., p. 62.

39. Ibid., p. 78.

40. Ibid., pp. 78-79.

41. Ibid., p. 79.

42. Ibid., p. 81.43. Ibid., pp. 83ff.

44. Temptation, trans. Kathleen Downham (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1959). (In same volume with Creation and Fall.)

45. Ibid., pp. 101-102.

46. Ibid., p. 102.

47. Ibid., p. 103.

48.Ibid., p. 106.

49. Ibid., p. 107 (italics his).

50. Ibid., p. 109.

51. Ibid., pp. 112-13.

52. Ibid., p. 115.

53. Ibid., pp. 118-19.

Chapter 3: The Church: Objective Source of Revelation

Bonhoeffer’s second work, Act and Being, was written in 1931 and presented as his inaugural dissertation, giving him the right to lecture at the university. Act and Being, like the first work, is abstract and difficult to read. Certainly Bonhoeffer’s popularity has come from other works than these. Yet Act and Being deals with the important problem of revelation. What philosophical modes should be used to express God’s self-revelation? Should one speak only of God’s self-revelation as events in biblical history? Is there a better way of speaking of God’s self-revelation than in the category of being? Is there some other alternative? Bonhoeffer treats these questions in three parts in his work.

THE ALTERNATIVES OF PHILOSOPHY

Part One exposes the problem of act and being as a problem of how and what one may know, especially about God. He treats two alternatives: the transcendental and the ontological endeavors. The transcendental approach is traced from Immanuel Kant to Karl Barth who, at the time, was regarded by Bonhoeffer as being dependent upon Kant in some ways. The development of philosophical thought from Kant (1724- 1804) to G. W. F. Hegel (1770-1831) serves as a backdrop to these issues. In his theory of knowledge, Kant divided reality into two types: phenomena and noumena. We experience phenomena only by the senses in the things we see, hear, taste, touch, etc. The noumena, or the reality behind appearances, the thing-in-itself, can never be known by the senses, and hence cannot be known at all. Noumena may refer to God or the existence of the soul. Bonhoeffer is especially interested in the subject of God, for he is transcendent. How is one to know God, the numinous? Needless to say, Bonhoeffer introduces the idea of God’s self-revelation, in which God comes to man who is incapable of searching out God on his own. But in what way and how is this done? This is a crucial question for Bonhoeffer, and to this we will return later.

Kant’s successors eliminated the distinction between phenomena and noumena. In Kant there was always something set over against the personal "I" which was not known. In later philosophers when the noumena was dropped, God and the self became identified.1 There are serious problems both with Kant’s transcendental philosophy and with the idealism of his "specious" successors. Bonhoeffer’s main criticisms are directed at Kant’s successors. If the "I" becomes paramount, its knowledge is restricted. It never knows anything other than itself. Thus, what is supposed to be revelation is turned into the study of anthropology or psychology. God "becomes the prisoner of the consciousness."2 "What reason can learn from itself (thus Hegel) is revelation, and so God is incarcerated in consciousness."3 Equally untenable is the inference that "if God is to come to man, man must be in essence divine."4 Bonhoeffer admits that transcendentalism has a solution, but that it is inadequate without "radical transformation and completion."5

The second alternative is the ontological endeavor. A true ontology,6 says Bonhoeffer, aims at showing real being existing apart from consciousness. "Systematic ontology supposes pure being to be intuitively beheld in its transcendence of consciousness."7 In his treatment Bonhoeffer outlines the approach of Edmund Husserl (1859-1938), the father of philosophical phenomenology. Phenomenology "is the study of the phenomena in the pure consciousness."8 Husserl rejected the Kantian concept of noumena, and this led him to affirm greater areas of knowledge for man. More than simply knowing phenomena, one might know being.9 Because Husserl says that man can intellectually intuit being, Bonhoeffer places him in the idealist tradition. But as far as the question of God is concerned, Husserl attains no great clarity and does not advance beyond the purely human word of Hegel. He may shed light on man’s way of thinking but not on the problem of being.

In this alternative Bonhoeffer treats the view of Max Scheler (1874-1928) who altered Husserl’s emphases somewhat but who, for Bonhoeffer, did not solve anything. Also included is a pupil of Husserl, Martin Heidegger (b. 1889). For Heidegger, being is "understood from Dasein" or existence. Existence is known by an existential analysis of man. Although Heidegger aims at exposing being to the philosophical world, he never proceeds further than man. The implication, for Bonhoeffer, is that Heidegger has left no room for the idea of revelation10 and is useless for purposes of theology.

The last example of a being-approach to theology is that of Roman Catholic writers. Up to this point the transcendence of God has been either rejected, overlooked, or identified with nature. In Thomism, God’s transcendence is allowed. Thomism, which follows the principles elaborated by St. Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274), employs the analogia entis or analogy of being. The analogy of being supposes that God has left a trace of himself in nature which indirectly and proportionately testifies of himself. Thomism rejects the identification of God and man, yet argues that some likeness of God is perceived in man. But if one accepts the analogia as useful for theology, one may arrive at a "being" which may not be God.11 Being is still self-projection, and thus is not successful.

The offending element in all these attempts at arriving at being is that they suppose that man is capable of bestowing truth on himself. One fundamental problem in this issue is man and his sin. Bonhoeffer declares, "Thought is as little able as good works to deliver the cor curvurm in se from itself."12 There is little room for revelation in philosophy. Philosophy’s hope is to confess itself as Christian, for it seeks to give, and cannot, what only Christ can give in understanding the universe and man.13

THE PROBLEM STATED FOR THEOLOGY

Part Two deals with the act-being problem in revelation. Revelation is defined in terms of the acts of God. Thus revelation is transcendent. When God comes to man this act becomes the means whereby man can know the truth of God and come to understand himself. Revelation as act means: (1) that God is free; (2) that man is receptive; (3) that God is not "haveable" or graspable, in the sense that he comes under man’s power through knowledge; (4) that God is known only because of self-revealing grace. Consequently, God is nonobjective and nonavailable. In act, "God is always the ‘coming’, not the existing’ deity (Barth)."14 If God is conceived in act as nonobjective, Bonhoeffer concludes that one may also speak of faith as nonobjective. The practical problem of the act-theology relates to decision. Is not the act inadequate in fulfilling the needs of the "everydayness" of the religious life and decision?15 The religious life needs some basis for continuity.

The alternative to the above position is to speak of revelation in terms of being, and this can take one of three possibilities: (1) doctrine, (2) psychic experience, and (3) an institutional form.16 The latter may be understood as the institution of the Catholic Church or the Protestant idea of verbal inspiration of the Bible. Bonhoeffer rejects all three of these because: they understand the revealed God as an entity, whereas entities are transcended by act and being. Man assimilates them into his transcendental I, and so they are unable to be objective in the full sense, hence are useless for theological explanation of the revelation in Christ. . .17

While any of these may be reassuring, man is always in control of them.

A true and meaningful ontology, or being theology, "must satisfy two all-important requirements: 1. it must involve the existence of man; 2. it must be possible to think of the being in continuity," i.e., it must define "being in."18 Because these two alternatives, revelation as act and revelation as being, are inadequate alone, Bonhoeffer turns to a synthesis in which act and being take on a new dimension in the church.

BONHOEFFER’S SOLUTION

The heart of his proposal is in the chapter, "The Church as a Unity of Act and Being." Assuming the inadequacy of philosophy’s understanding of existence, Bonhoeffer declares that existence can be understood only in the church, because the church gives an explanation "outside" of man. Revelation is only confronted in the church. Thus revelation is not the past remembered, but exists presently and continually in the church, for "the Church is the Christ of the present, ‘Christ existing as community’. . . Christ is the corporate person of the Christian communion."19

Because of the personal involvement of Christ in the church, Bonhoeffer asserts that the old issue of act or being, as it relates to revelation, is now resolved. God gives himself in act to the individual who at the same time is in the communion of Christ. Man’s existence is affected because he is "in Christ." If man’s existence were unchanged, being in the community of revelation "would be pointless."20

Bonhoeffer claims that the problem of subjectivism is overcome because the church is "concretely visible."21 Faith supposes an object outside of itself, but faith is a mode of being in the church. Although faith might be viewed as a series of broken discrete acts, Bonhoeffer declares that "faith as an act knows itself as the mode of being of its being in the church, the continuity is indeed only ‘in the believing’ but thereby is really preserved as being in the Church."22 Even sin does not disrupt the continuity of the new existence of man in Christ. Man’s inability to put himself beyond "the pale of God’s commonwealth" underlines the "everydayness" of life in the church — which is in Christ.23

Bonhoeffer closes24 his work by considering the act-being problem in man. Man has a relationship to either Adam or Christ. In either case, revelation is necessary to know this.25 The act-being relation for "being in Adam" is the problem of sin. Sin must be defined initially as a willful "act." But if sin were only an act, "it would be theoretically and humanly possible to find one’s way back to a sinless being."26 The death of Christ would have been unnecessary. Bonhoeffer does not assume a historical beginning point of sin with Adam. Rather viewing man as a corporate being, he declared, "I myself am Adam, am I and humanity together; in me falls humanity; as I am Adam, so is every individual, but then in all individuals the one person of humanity, Adam, is active."27 Thus the "everydayness of Adam" is related to the "everydayness" of life — man’s sin is both act and being. In act he is responsible, in being he corrupts the rest of mankind. Being in Adam means guilt, despair, isolation, temptation, and death.28 Being in Christ is to become a new being, yet one susceptible to the old being’s influence. But faith brings forgiveness for guilt, hope for despair, communion with God instead of isolation, help for temptation, and life through death.29 The new being belongs to the future; the old being belongs to the past.

In closing this chapter, certain questions may be raised about Bonhoeffer’s ideas. First the concreteness of the church and its objectivity are points quite well taken, but one wonders whether Bonhoeffer fully distinguishes his view from the Roman Catholic view of the church, particularly when Roman Catholicism sees the church as the mystical body of Christ. Second, his emphasis on faith as a gift of God, rather than salvation being a gift of God (Eph. 2:8), is suspect exegetically. When faith is regarded as a gift of God, faith as response and commitment is sidetracked. This is particularly pertinent to the issue of infant baptism.30 Third, one feels uneasy and unclear about Bonhoeffer’s use of the term "God’s Word." It is used with ambiguity because he speaks decisively about God’s Word but then rejects the role of Scripture as incapable of fulfilling the demands of the "being" aspect of revelation. The Bible becomes an "entity," "whereas entities are transcended by act and being."31 This is particularly puzzling since one of Bonhoeffer’s favorite passages of Scripture is Isaiah 55:11 in which God promises that his Word would not return to him without fulfilling his purposes. Since the Word of God is described as a double-edged sword which man cannot control, Bonhoeffer’s view seems out of character with his overall position.

 

NOTES:

1. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Act and Being, trans. Bernard Noble (New York: Harper & Row, 1961), p. 30.

2. Ibid., p. 39.

3. Ibid., p. 41.

4. Ibid.

5. Ibid.

6. Ontology is an area of philosophy that examines the nature of being, or reality. What does it mean to be? What is existence?

7. Ibid., p. 51.

8. Ibid., p. 52.

9. Cf. Quentin Lauer, Phenomenology: Its Genesis and Prospect (New York: Harper & Row, Torchbook, 1965), pp. 65-81.

10. Act and Being, p. 65.

11. Ibid., p. 69.

12. Ibid., p. 72.

13. Ibid., p. 70.

14. Ibid., p. 83.

15. Ibid., p. 105.

16. Ibid., p. 108.

17. Ibid., pp. 111-12.

18. Ibid., p. 115.

19. Ibid., p. 120. Bonhoeffer appeals to Scripture for several statements like this one. See I Cor. 12:12; 6:15; 1:13; Rom. 6:13, 19; Eph. 2:14. "The Church is the body of Christ: I Cor. 12:12ff.; Rom. 12:4ff; Eph. 1:23; 4: 15f.; Col. 1:18. Christ is in the communion as the communion is in Christ: I Cor. 1:30; 3:16; II Cor. 6:16; 13:5; Col. 2:17; 3:11. The communion is a corporate person whose name is also Christ: Gal. 3:28;. Col. 3 :l0f.; cf. Eph. 1:23" (pp. 120-21).

20. Ibid., p. 124.

21. Ibid., p. 125.

22. Ibid., p. 128.

23. Ibid., p. 134.

24. One of the concerns of Act and Being is the theology of Barth, which Bonhoeffer regarded as an "act" theology. Barth changed his position considerably, perhaps under the criticism of Bonhoeffer.

25. Ibid., p. 155.

26. Ibid., p. 163.

27. Ibid., p. 165.

28. Ibid., p. 166.

29. Ibid., p. 179.

30. Ibid., p. 182.

31. Ibid., p. 111.

Chapter 2: The Shape of the Church

Bonhoeffer’s first and in many ways most difficult work was the Sanctorum Communio, or The Communion of Saints. It is abstract, technical, and important. This work is not an example of the "popular" Bonhoeffer. Yet the book serves as the foundation for much of his writings. Should the reader bog down here, he might with justification turn to chapter 4 and continue there to the end of this work before coming back to chapter 2.

DEFINING SOCIOLOGY AND THE CHURCH

The Communion of Saints attempts to relate sociology and theology to one another. Sociology is defined as "the science of the structures of empirical communities."3 An empirical community is one that can be viewed objectively. Bonhoeffer aimed then to study the church from the standpoint of sociology. If, however, one is to understand a religious community, one must examine it from within, taking the claims of the community seriously. Without assuming this internal stance, the church cannot be understood at all.

Because the religious community is composed of people, it becomes necessary to define the Christian concept of person. The concept of person will determine the type of community that will come forth. Bonhoeffer speaks of different types: Aristotelian (man becomes a person by partaking of reason); Stoic ("a man becomes a person by submitting to a higher obligation");4 Epicurean (man’s life is heightened by pleasure, though it has a "defective concept of spirit");5 and the idealist tradition flowing from Immanuel Kant (the perceiving person is the starting point for philosophy).

Bonhoeffer trades blows predominantly with the idealist tradition. In turn, he defines the Christian concept of a person in nonstatic terms. Person is fluctuating and can be said to exist only "when a man is morally responsible."6 The person comes into existence only when "he is passionately involved in a moral struggle, and confronted by a claim which overwhelms him."7 Into this struggle Bonhoeffer introduces the idea of a"barrier" that man faces. The barrier involves "the absolute distinction between God and man."8 The deeper man realizes this separation to be, the more profound will his self-understanding be. The barrier is a problem for man not only with reference to God, but with other men in community. In community the "I" is confronted by a "Thou" which may be either God or man. Yet one may not know oneself as a "Thou," nor can one know another person as an "I."

Bonhoeffer rejects the idea that encounter creates persons, and declares that "God, or the Holy Spirit, comes to the concrete Thou, only by his action does the other become a Thou for me, from which my I arises. In other words, every human Thou is an image of the divine Thou."9 Thus Bonhoeffer concludes that personhood is related to social relations.

Building upon his definition of person, Bonhoeffer develops the idea with reference to man’s first state of existence before God in contrast to man’s existence after rebellion against God. In contrast to idealism, which knows only continuity in man’s life in the Spirit, Bonhoeffer recognizes sin as a reality in history. The conflict of man with God poses problems for any idea of community, but community is God’s design for man. Thus ethics and morality have meaning only in sociality.

If man stands in community, what is the relation of the community to his own being? Bonhoeffer answers: "The individual personal spirit lives solely by virtue of sociality, and the ‘social spirit’ becomes real only in individual embodiment.10 Therefore Bonhoeffer can speak of both the individual and a collective being.11 The design of God for men to live in community leads to the natural question of the religious community.

The community is constituted by desire, or will, and not necessarily on the idea of commonness, or formal agreement. Because willing is important, conflict thereby arises in the community: Bonhoeffer assesses several forms of human relationships: the community, the society, and the mass. A community is where "life is lived," a society is an association in rational action, and the mass is man caught up by stimuli in which there are no real social bonds.12 The idea of the community — the willed entity — is important for the form of the church.13

Having set forth his idea of community, Bonhoeffer relates it to sin’s entry which causes a broken community. Sin breaks communion with God and man, and man with man. The natural forms of community are now corrupted. Why is the I phenomena of sin universal? In answer he says that the Bible speaks of the universality of sin but nothing of original sin. Bonhoeffer’s solution is that "the guilt of the individual and the universality of sin should be conceived of together."14

Sin must not be understood biologically. Instead, sin and guilt are the bases for understanding the species, or mankind. The race is in sin because I am in sin. With each individual falling into sin, the race falls, and hence "in principle none of us is distinct from Adam — which also means, however, that each of us is the ‘first’ sinner."15 Sin itself is unfathomable. One might understand it psychologically up to the deed, but "the deed itself is . . . psychologically inexplicable."16

Building upon the idea that sin affects the species, Bonhoeffer proceeds to speak of collective persons. Israel is an example of God’s relation to the collective group. "It was the people, and not the individuals, who had sinned."17 A community — the collective person — stands before God and is dealt with as a whole regardless of what certain individuals may or may not do. The old race in Adam is a collective person in contrast to the new collective person, "Christ existing as the church."18 Yet a collective person is subject to fragmentation.

WHAT THE CHURCH IS

The heart of the book comes in a long chapter (118 pages) entitled "Sanctorum Communio." In setting forth basic principles, Bonhoeffer declares that "the Christian concept of the church is reached only by way of the concept of revelation."19 He rejects as untenable the explanation that a concept of "the Holy" leads to community.20 Accepting the revelatory nature of the church, he briefly sketches the New Testament view of the church. The significance of this lies in the conviction that equates the two statements "to be in Christ" and "to be in the church."21 This equation means that "Christ is really present only in the church."22 Bonhoeffer does not mean that a second incarnation takes place but that "we must think of a revelatory form in which ‘Christ exists as the church’."23 The church so understood brings together many persons, is a community, and has unity, although it is not without conflict of wills.

Regardless of sin and man’s alienation in the primal state, God’s purpose for man is in the church.24 The isolation of man from man and from God is nullified in the life and death of Christ. Repentance becomes the avenue of entry into the new community and the exit out of the community of Adam. The new community is unlike other communities in that the Holy Spirit lives in it.

There are other implications of the central theme: the church is Christ and Christ is the church. Christ in the church is related to the Word through which the Spirit speaks. Christ is in the Word and the Word is directed to "a plurality of hearers."25 The Spirit is active in three sociological relationships: the individual spirit of man, the spiritual community, and spiritual oneness. The Spirit makes a claim on the individual in his loneliness, to bring him to Christ. In trusting Christ, men are made members of the divine community. Being a new creation, they come to know the meaning of agape. Love seeking a response means communion with God and man. Loving communion also means self-surrender to the "Thou" before man — either God or man.

The acts of love for man in community with Christ are:

(1) self-renunciation — to work for others by giving up personal claims to happiness; (2) intercessory prayer; and (3) "the mutual granting of forgiveness of sins in God’s name."26

Bonhoeffer’s comments on intercessory prayer follow the inspiration of Luther and need serious reconsideration in modern times. More controversial is the matter of mutual granting of forgiveness. This leads most naturally to Bonhoeffer’s proposal that a Protestant confession be reinstituted, but only if proper instruction is given concerning its meaning.

Bonhoeffer’s treatment of spiritual oneness anticipates a theology for the ecumenical movement. Spiritual, unity is willed by God and is not the result of a concord or agreement between men. Unity is misunderstood. The unity of the New Testament is not "one theology and one rite, one opinion upon all things both public and private, and one mode of conduct in life," but rather "one body and one Spirit, one

Lord, one faith, one baptism. . ."27 Oneness and unity are different. Oneness suggests conformity; unity exhibits the possibility of diversity in the Spirit. This unity is invisible, but it must be believed.28 On the ecumenical movement, Bonhoeffer declares that "unification from below is not the same as unity from above." The first may never be achieved, but the second is real. Spiritual unity is related to equality. There is equality before God, but neither in the church nor in any community are men identical.

He devotes considerable space to the empirical form of the church. The church is simultaneously the community of the holy as well as a community of sinners. The church is not to be identified with the kingdom of God; rather, it is the kingdom of Christ and does not include Old Testament believers. He rejects the "gathered-church" concept for the Lutheran Volkskirche or national-church concept.29 The universal church embraces "all individual churches."30

The church has certain functions, primarily worshiping. There is need of a ministry to a congregation, for preaching is divinely ordained. The function, not the person, is ordained to the congregation. For a Christian to be unattached to a congregation is "unthinkable" as a reality.31 The church also comes together for the sacraments. Bonhoeffer follows a Lutheran position on infant baptism, in which faith is located by proxy in the congregation rather than the infant. Because Bonhoeffer takes the church seriously as life in Christ, he looks critically at the pietistic movements designated as "the church within the church."32 Movements on this order lead to factions and peril.

His treatment shows deep respect for the church, and he argues that it has authority because it rests upon the Word.33 This may produce a threat to the freedom of the conscience, but obedience is due to the church, and it occasionally may need to demand the sacrifice of the intellect. Rebellion against the church by the individual member is a serious matter for God alone to decide; "the only valid motive . . . would be a perfect obedience rooted in the closest attachment to the church and to the Word in it.34

Toward the end of this work, Bonhoeffer discusses the church as an independent sociological type. It is not an association which can be banded and disbanded by agreement. It is not an institution, in the sense held by Max Weber and Ernst Troeltsch, where grace and gifts are dispensed to the dues-paying members. Even the term community is not fully adequate, for although it has affinities to the community, the church is one of a kind.35 The uniqueness of the community is found in its divine institution rather than in pure doctrine.36

Growing, out of his rejection of "the purity" of doctrine as a norm for the church, Bonhoeffer admits that the state or "national" church and the "gathered" church belong together. The national church stands in peril if it is not reaching out. In a brief section on the church and the proletariat, he discusses the inwardness of the national church. The’ church cannot be satisfied with a middle-class norm but must reach the working man in his language and culture. The future church will change from its bourgeois form to what? Bonhoeffer did not profess to know, but he was sure it would change.37

The last word on the church is an eschatological38 one. The church will be redeemed collectively and individually. On how the collective feature will take place Bonhoeffer admits ignorance, but yet affirms its truth. The future community of God will involve the resurrection of the body, "a new corporality for the godless as well."39 Intrigued by the possibility of universal salvation for all mankind, he yet rejects it as a part of his system. The end of the story of the church is its incorporation into "the kingdom of God in all the world."40

By way of a brief assessment, the following may be offered. First, sociologists will fail to see an empirical treatment of the church, but instead will find a highly abstract theological approach to it. Second, to the "free" church tradition it will appear that Bonhoeffer saw the church more from the Lutheran national-church pattern rather than taking seriously the New Testament forms. The national-church form seeks to justify some practices that seem contrary to certain concepts of Christian faith. For instance, faith appears incompatible with infant baptism, and the national church appears contrary to personal commitment and choice. Bonhoeffer follows the attitude of Luther concerning the so-called "radicals" who advocated a gathered church, and adult or believers’ baptism based upon personal commitment in faith.

At the same time, it must be said that this work is a significant study in the nature of the church because the position is maintained that the church is not just another organization, it is the Body of Christ. Bonhoeffer’s treatment of this question is relevant today, since the church is puzzling over its own nature, its role, its renewal. Does the church have political, economic, and other social responsibilities? For Bonhoeffer, the church is unique. If it will not be the church, the Body of Christ, its existence cannot be defended. This truth must be maintained as well as regained where it has been lost.

 

NOTES:

1. The Communion of Saints, trans. Ronald Gregor Smith, et al. (New York: Harper & Row, 1963).

2. Following the example of Martin E. Marty, ed., in The Place of Bonhoeffer (New York: Association Press, 1962).

3. Peter Berger is quick to point out that Bonhoeffer’s definition declares itself for an empirical approach, but the argument is carried forth on an abstract, not an empirical approach to sociology. Cf. The Place of Bonhoeffer, p. 59.

4. The Communion of Saints, p. 23.

5. Ibid., p. 24.

6. Ibid., p. 31.

7. Ibid.

8. Ibid.

9. Ibid., p. 36.

10. Ibid., p. 49.

11. Sociologically, the problem of an empirical collective being is untenable.

12. Communion of Saints, p. 59.

13. Ibid., p. 57.

14. Ibid., p. 78.

15. Ibid., p. 79.

16. Ibid., p. 81.

17. Ibid., p. 83.

18. Ibid., p. 85.19. Ibid., p. 97. 20. The view of Max Scheler in Wertethik.

21. Communion of Saints, p. 100.

22. Ibid. Bonhoeffer’s theory that two different concepts of the church exist in the New Testament, a Jerusalem version which is the basis of Roman Catholicism, and a Gentile, Pauline view serving as foundation for Lutheranism, will undoubtedly disturb those of the free church tradition who would not acknowledge this to be true.

23. The Communion of Saints, p. 101.

24. Ibid., p. 103.

25. Ibid., p. 115.

26. Ibid., p. 130.

27. Ibid., p. 137.

28. Ibid., p. 139.

29. Ibid., p. 151.

30. Ibid., p. 154. The "gathered-church" is one stressing voluntary commitment, while the Volkskirche is one that involves membership by infant baptism.

31. The Communion of Saints, p. 156.

32. Ibid., p. 169.

33. Ibid., p. 173.

34. Ibid., p. 175.

35. Ibid., p. 185,

36. Bonhoeffer says that "pure" doctrine is not a condition for the existence of the congregation of the saints (Isa. 55:11 says nothing of this), p. 187. This verse is often quoted by Bonhoeffer, and it strange that in this context an Old Testament verse should be used to delineate what the church should or should not be, especially since he emphasizes the kingdom of Christ as opposed to the kingdom of God.

37. The Communion of Saints, p. 193.

38. Eschatology is the doctrine of the end of the age, or the consummation of all things. It has a broad meaning describing the beginning of life in Christ now, but here it concerns the church’s future at. Christ’s return.

39. The Communion of Saints, p. 200.

40. Ibid., p. 204.

Chapter 1: Dietrich Bonhoeffer: The Man and His Interpreters

BONHOEFFER THE MAN

Dietrich Bonhoeffer has become a man with mystique. His life commands intense interest because of his opposition to the Nazi state and its infiltration of the German church. His theological works remain a source of inspiration not only for his vivid exposition of profound issues, but also for the well-turned phrases such as "cheap grace" or "world come of age." His involvement in the ecumenical movement as a young theologian brought immense respect from older and better known men. Whether Bonhoeffer has been interpreted rightly is still debated, but no one doubts that he has had a remarkable influence in contemporary Protestant theology.

Dietrich and his twin sister Sabine were born on February 4, 1906, in Breslau, Germany (which is now part of Poland). His mother was descended from the famous nineteenth-century church historian, Karl von Hase, and his father, Karl Ludwig Bonhoeffer, was a noted physician and soon to be professor of psychiatry at the University of Berlin. The fact that his father distrusted Freudian psychoanalysis may be the explanation for his own barbs at psychotherapists and existentialists.1

The names of neighbors and friends coming into the home of young Dietrich have the aura of greatness. Adolf von Harnack, the eminent historian of the church and of dogma, was both a neighbor and teacher. Ernst Troeltsch, the theologian and philosopher, was a frequent guest in the Bonhoeffer home. Other eminent people included Ferdinand Tonnies, and Max and Alfred Weber.

By age sixteen, Dietrich had decided to enter the ministry of the church. The decision gained little comment from his parents, but his brothers opposed it. His brother Klaus attempted to impress him with the purely provincial nature of the Protestant church in Germany and regretted that his brother should give his life to a superfluous cause. With resolution Dietrich replied, "If the Church is feeble, I shall reform it."2 However facetious his reply might have been, it was portentous of the future way Bonhoeffer felt about the church’s needs.

Karl Friedrich, another brother, talked with Dietrich about science and the universe it held up to behold, but at this point Dietrich would have nothing to do with science. When he could not argue against Karl Friedrich he simply commented, "You may knock my block off, but I shall still believe in God."3 It was not until the years of his imprisonment that he seriously began to come to terms with science. This is one reason the Letters and Papers often sound so revolutionary.

Bonhoeffer began his study at Tubingen, but after a year moved to the University of Berlin in 1924. At Berlin, Bonhoeffer encountered a galaxy of erudite but often liberal scholars. Here Adolf Deissmann had made his contribution to New Testament studies. Hans Lietzmann was teaching the history of the early church, and Adolf von Harnack, Karl Holl, and Reinhold Seeberg were in one way or another connected with theology. Seeberg was the man under whom Bonhoeffer worked for the licentiate of theology, a degree comparable to the doctor of theology.

As a student, Bonhoeffer was precocious and independent. He did not simply absorb the liberalism of Berlin, nor did he become a true follower of the theologian Karl Barth, with whom he had many sympathies. Bonhoeffer did his homework well, and one of his fellow students described his performance:

What really impressed me was not just the fact that he surpassed almost all of us in theological knowledge and capacity; but what passionately attracted me to Bonhoeffer was the perception that here was a man who did not only learn and gather in the verba and scripta of some master, but one who thought independently and already knew what he wanted and wanted what he knew. I had the experience (for me it was something alarming and magnificently new!) of hearing a young fair-haired student contradict the revered historian, his Excellency von Harnack, contradict him politely but clearly on positive theological grounds. Harnack answered, but the student contradicted again and again. I don’t remember the content of the discussion — the talk was of Karl Barth — but I remember the secret enthusiasm that I felt for this free, critical and independent judgement in theology.4

In 1927, Bonhoeffer submitted his dissertation, Sanctorum Cornmunio: A Dogmatic Investigation of the Sociology of the Church, to the faculty of the University of Berlin. This work was praised as a "theological miracle" by Karl Barth and was published three years later.

After his formal theological training at the university, Dietrich went to Barcelona, Spain, where he served in a position comparable to an assistant minister on an intern basis with a German-speaking congregation. His ability to relate to people of diverse conditions became apparent here in this congregation of small businessmen whose religious and cultural advancements had been small. As he worked with the elderly pastor and shared his life with the congregation, the church was resurrected in spirit and doubled in size. He started a service for children and a study group for boys in the sixth form (the last year) of their education. He gave pastoral care to the people and preached every two weeks. He became very attached to the people, and they returned the affection.

Upon his return to Berlin in 1929 Dietrich worked on his inaugural dissertation, a requisite for being permitted a faculty position in theology. In 1930, after completing Act and Being: Transcendental Philosophy and Ontology in Systematic Theology, he was given a position teaching systematic theology.

Before getting to the serious work of teaching, Bonhoeffer came to America for a year of study at Union Theological Seminary in New York City. His descriptions of religious life in America are revealing. He saw the students as less interested in real theology than in the practical element in Christianity. Their lack of interest in serious theology was partially expressed in their laughing out loud when a passage from Luther was quoted on sin and forgiveness. Yet Bonhoeffer noted the students’ concern for the poor and needy, and he entered into their attempts to help relieve some of these problems. At Union also, he became aware of the growing problem of the Negro in America. He visited with Negroes in Harlem and attended a large Negro Baptist church for about six months.

Greatly unimpressed with American theology, he was more susceptible to its piety and social concern. Although Bonhoeffer impressed many American theologians with his own ability, he did not think too highly of the trend that theology was taking in America. A young Frenchman probably had more long-range influence on him than the American theologians. Jean Lasserre was an advocate of and a participant in the ecumenical movement. Moreover, he was a pacifist. Before meeting him, Bonhoeffer followed a traditional line of supporting a nationalistic attitude toward war and a critical attitude toward the ecumenical movement. In conversation Lasserre countered with: "Do we believe in the Holy Catholic Church, the Communion of the Saints, or do we believe in the eternal mission of France? One can’t be a Christian and a nationalist at the same time."5 Bonhoeffer later changed both his attitude toward pacifism — first accepting it and then modifying his view again — and his critical feelings toward the ecumenical movement.

By 1931, although he had enjoyed his stay in America, he was ready to return home and begin his period of lecturing at the University of Berlin. As a beginning lecturer, he had to depend upon his ability to attract students. They came out of curiosity at first. One student recalled, "He looked like a student himself when he went to the desk. But then our attention was so much riveted by what he had to say, that we no longer came for the sake of the very young man, but for the sake of his subject."6 Except for the enjoyment of the students, Bonhoeffer led a rather lonely life in the unbending liberalism of the university. His independence of mind plus his affinity for Barth’s theology made him suspect among the old-line theological liberals.

The year of his return to Germany brought momentous events in his life. In the summer of 1931 he journeyed to Bonn and met Karl Barth. His only regret was that he had not come sooner. A mutually respectful relationship grew through the years as indicated from the extant correspondence7 and Barth’s references in Church Dogmatics to Bonhoeffer’s published works.8 Barth’s extremely critical letter about Bonhoeffer’s later move to London could only have been written by a real friend.9

Also in this year, Bonhoeffer began an important relationship with the ecumenical movement. His flair for languages, theological precocity, and friendliness won him respect in the movement, and he was elected International Youth Secretary for Germany and Central Europe for the World Alliance of Churches. His involvement in the ecumenical work enabled him to convey to the free world the real status of Hitler’s oppression of the church.

Meanwhile, in addition to his duties at the university which involved him in lecturing on systematic theology and leading a seminar on "The Idea of Philosophy and Protestant Theology," he became further involved in the ministry. He became student pastor at the Technical College in Berlin, and the same time was requested to take over a confirmation class of fifty rowdy boys who lived in one of the roughest areas Berlin. As the elderly pastor and young Dietrich ascended the stairs of the multi-storied building where the boys were, the children dropped rubbish on the two men below. At the top the stairs the pastor tried to gain attention by shouting an introduction of Bonhoeffer. Some of the children only heard the word "Bon" and began to chant it, until the bewildered, frustrated old pastor left.

At first Dietrich stood in silence against the wall while the boys chanted. Then he began to speak softly to those near him. Out of curiosity the others began to be quiet. When the noise had subsided, he told them a story about Harlem and promised more next time if they behaved.10 Not only did he win their attention for class instruction, but he moved into the neighborhood for two months to live among them. This most "hopeless" class was carried to its completion, and many the boys remained long-time friends.

While busily engaged in the work of the university, Bonhoeffer continued to broaden his ecumenical contacts that would prove immensely helpful as the church situation became more crucial in the short years ahead. In 1932 he was very busy in his role as International Youth Secretary for Germany and Central Europe. He delivered an address, "The Church Is Dead," to the International Youth Conference meeting in Switzerland.11 In the fall of 1932, he began a series lectures which were later published as Creation and Fall.

The elections in Germany in 1932 brought about the Nazi rise to power, and the stage was set for the German church struggle. Bonhoeffer aligned himself with the evangelical opposition to Hitler. This alignment ultimately cost him his life.

In 1933 he gave a series of lectures on Christology which were never completed, nor published, except as they were reconstructed from the notes of students and published under the title Christ the Center. Following the summer session, Bonhoeffer took a leave of absence from the university and went to London to be minister of two German-speaking congregations. Although this move was opposed strenuously by Karl Barth, who looked upon Bonhoeffer’s role in the church struggle as vital, the period served to strengthen his ties with the ecumenical movement, particularly with George Bell, Bishop of Chichester. During this interim period in London, Bonhoeffer attended the World Alliance of Churches meeting in Fano, Denmark. Germany was represented only by the "German Christians," the pro-Hitler group. The council, due in part to Bonhoeffer’s influence, denounced the "German Christians" and aligned its sympathies with the Confessing Church.

Through his growing world-wide friendships, Bonhoeffer received a letter of introduction to Gandhi and hoped to travel to India to study the methods of pacifism. These plans were interrupted by a call from the Confessing Church to come home and assume the leadership of an "illegal" seminary for training ministers. The call of duty won out over the desire to go to India, and he returned to a most dangerous task in Germany.

The seminary was eventually located, at Finkenwalde, a tiny village south of Stettin on the Oder River in what was then Pomerania and is now Poland. There Bonhoeffer instituted a new type of theological education. He organized the students into a community with a "proper balance between work and worship, the academic and the practical, discipline and freedom."12 The curriculum of the seminary provided for lectures by Bonhoeffer, reading of books, pastoral duties such as visitation, times of worship and confession of sin. Extracurricular community involvement included just plain fun, singing, doing dishes, and cleaning house. The experiences of the "brother-house" were recorded in Gemeinsames Leben (Life Together), published in 1939.

As his work at the seminary progressed, Bonhoeffer attempted to retain his teaching post at the University of Berlin and did so until August 5, 1936, when it was withdrawn because of his opposition to Hitler’s innovations in the church. His imperturbability was expressed in his comment, "I have long ceased to believe in the University."13

At Finkenwalde romance entered his life. Maria von Wedemeyer was seventeen years younger than he. Their first meeting was without meaning. She was only one among several grandchildren of Ruth von Kleist-Retzow, a well-to-do, spiritually minded widow who attended church at the seminary. Maria was to be included in the confirmation classes. Much later, after her graduation from high school she saw him again, and the rapport was spontaneous and immediate between them. Shortly after their engagement he was imprisoned. She saw him at least once a month in prison, and letters were exchanged as permission was allowed. Their engagement was a source of delight to him. Her visits formed a feeling of anticipation he treasured. He always wanted to know of her coming in advance, for without knowing he was cheated "out of the joy of anticipation and that is a very necessary part of your visit."14

During the troubled days of the late thirties, Bonhoeffer spoke a number of times on the subject of the "Visible and Invisible Church." The theme is one that had held his interest from his student days. He was very much concerned with the inner life, the question of communion, and the confession of the church. Bonhoeffer’s ecumenical interest was not the kind that could overlook false doctrine as manifested in the German church. One of the weaknesses of the ecumenical movement, he wrote, was its lack of theology.15

Bonhoeffer’s first popular work was published in 1937. As a study of the Sermon on the Mount, Nachfolge (The Cost of Discipleship) harshly criticizes "cheap grace," which churches had been preaching, and calls for "costly" discipleship to Jesus Christ. In this same year the seminary was officially disbanded by the government, but it nevertheless maintained an underground existence until 1940.

Life was becoming more difficult for Bonhoeffer. He was faced with military service — a difficult thing for one who held pacifist views — but was needed by the Confessing Church for his leadership. Friends like Reinhold Niebuhr and Paul Lehmann tried to persuade him to come to America and were successful for a short time. Bonhoeffer was appointed to the faculty of the Union Theological Seminary for an indefinite period of time, and arrived in the United States on June 12, 1939. But the safety of America was too much for him, and he was back in Germany on July 25.

Bonhoeffer’s diary records two different episodes during this brief period: "I do not understand why I am here. . .The short prayer in which we thought of our German brothers almost overwhelmed me. . . If things become more uncertain, I shall not stay in America. . ." Later, after his decision to return home, he wrote, "Since I came on board ship, my mental turmoil about the future has gone."16

Back in Germany restrictions were placed on his movements. Berlin had been off-limits since 1938, although occasional visits were permitted. Now he was denied the right to speak anywhere in the Reich.

Bonhoeffer escaped military service by serving as a courier in the Intelligence Service, and thus was able to enjoy certain freedoms from the interference of the Gestapo. Certain members of the German Military Intelligence Service opposed Hitler, and eventually planned to assassinate him. Bonhoeffer came to accept the full implications of the resistance movement, justifying his position as follows: "It is not only my task to look after the victims of madmen who drive a motor-car in a crowded street, but to do all in my power to stop their driving at all."17

With an official pass, Bonhoeffer was able to travel outside Germany on behalf of the resistance movement without the Gestapo’s awareness. In Geneva he talked with Visser’t Hooft, General Secretary of the World Council of Churches, who asked him, "What do you pray for in these days?" Bonhoeffer replied, "If you want to know the truth, I pray for the defeat of my nation, for I believe that is the only way to pay for all the suffering which my country has caused in the world."18

Bonhoeffer was a liaison between the resistance movement and the free world, particularly Britain. He hoped that the Allied mandate of unconditional surrender might be changed if Hitler were overthrown and a new government formed, but the Allied forces proved adamant. Nevertheless, those in the Abwehr, the German Military Intelligence Service, went forward in their plans to eliminate Hitler. Bonhoeffer, forsaking his pacifist’s views, agreed to cooperate but requested advance knowledge to enable him to sever ties with the Confessing Church. Not only would the Confessing Church not approve of the act, but it would mean the end of his career as a pastor.

Details of the plot against Hitler were worked out minutely for each person to have alibis for his actions. However, the rival spying arm of the Gestapo had been hoping to discredit leaders of the Abwehr on trumped up charges of bribery for helping Jews to escape Germany or, in the case of Bonhoeffer, of evading the draft. It was presumably on this charge that he was arrested on April 5, 1943. Two men arrived at his father’s house in Berlin requesting to see Dietrich in his room. Without a search warrant or notice of arrest, Bonhoeffer was ordered to accompany them. He was taken to Tegel Military Prison in Berlin. At first conditions were extremely bad — the blankets, for instance, were too smelly to use. But after it was known who he was, his position improved.

Six months were to drag by before he was given a warrant for his arrest. The alibis of the plotters were all in order, and each played his part well. Bonhoeffer was able to have communication with the outside by means of coded messages passed in books and food parcels. Good-hearted guards made it possible for members of the family to visit and keep him informed.

Bonhoeffer spent eighteen months in Tegel Prison. Here he wrote the letters later incorporated into the intriguing work Letters and Papers from Prison (or as some editions title it, Prisoner for God.) In passing the long hours of imprisonment, Bonhoeffer read the Bible and works ranging over such diverse subjects as literature, science, philosophy, theology, and history. Much of his reading related to the nineteenth-century cultural heritage of Germany.

In July 1944, another attempt on Hitler’s life failed. Several had been made from various sources. The Gestapo’s desire to incriminate the Abwehr was fulfilled in a dramatic way with the finding of the Abwehr’s secret file in Zossen just two months later. The news spread quickly through the secret grapevine of the Abwehr, and Bonhoeffer heard it. Escape was the reaction to the news, and a plan had been made for some time. Arrangements were made with a friendly guard, and Bonhoeffer was to live "underground" until the destruction of Hitler came. Details were set in operation but halted when Dietrich’s brother Klaus was arrested. The plan was jettisoned for fear that his family would be the scapegoats for his escape.

After the finding of the Zossen documents, Bonhoeffer was transferred to the Gestapo prison on Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse. Now along with others he was tortured to squeeze out information on collaborators. The evidence already on hand was enough to have them shot, but Hitler desired to ferret out all conspirators, and this desire prolonged their lives. Bonhoeffer remained on Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse until February 1945, when he was removed secretly to Buchenwald. On February 7, the guards assembled twenty of the most important prisoners and ordered them into two vehicles. Bonhoeffer was among them.

Payne Best, one of the survivors of Buchenwald, described Bonhoeffer during this time: "Bonhoeffer was different; just quite calm and normal, seemingly perfectly at his ease. . . his soul really shone in the dark desperation of our prison."19 Bonhoeffer served as unofficial chaplain to many of the men of various nationalities. His spirit was gentle, and he became "the man for others" during the crucial days of Buchenwald. Best affirms, "He was one of the very few men I have ever met to whom God was real, and ever close to him."20

Hope and fear arose alternately in the hearts of the prisoners when Allied guns were heard on April 1, 1945. With the breakdown of the Nazi military system, hatred and vengeance yet ground on to the bitter end. On April 3, a lumbering enclosed vehicle pulled up to load sixteen prisoners including Bonhoeffer. Destination: Flossenburg, an extermination camp in the Bavarian forest. The vehicle was turned away because the prison was full, and this raised the men’s hopes temporarily. For a short time they were imprisoned in Schonberg, until two men appeared before the open door of Bonhoeffer’s cell and called out: "Prisoner Bonhoeffer, get ready to come with us."

He moved quickly to place certain mementos in the hands of friends with instructions concerning them. He wrote his name in the beginning, middle, and end of a work by Plutarch — a book eventually returned to the Bonhoeffer family. He sent special greetings by Payne Best to his old friend, the Bishop of Chichester: "This is the end — for me the beginning of life.

At Flossenburg, on April 8, a court martial met in full session. Dietrich was "tried" and sentenced to death — all in one night! The camp doctor of Flossenburg recorded this impression of the events:

On the morning of that day [April 9] between five and six o’clock the prisoners, among them Admiral Canaris, General Oster, General Thomas and Reichgerichtsrat Sack were taken from their cells, and the verdicts of the court martial read out to them. Through the half-open door in one room of the huts I saw Pastor Bonhoeffer, before taking off his prison garb, kneeling on the floor praying fervently to his God. I was most deeply moved by the way this lovable man prayed, so devout and so certain that God heard his prayer. At the place of execution, he again said a short prayer and then climbed the steps to the gallows, brave and composed. His death ensued after a few seconds. In the almost fifty years that I worked as a doctor, I have hardly ever seen a man die so entirely submissive to the will of God.21

Of these events, the family of Bonhoeffer knew nothing. A month later, Nazi Germany fell. Communication was difficult, and search was made for news of him. Geneva was the first to hear the news which was passed on to Bishop Bell. The elder Bonhoeffers were listening to the radio from London on July 27 when an English voice spoke: "We are gathered here in the presence of God to make thankful remembrance of the life and work of His servant Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who gave his life in faith and obedience to His holy word. . ."22

With Bonhoeffer’s death the church — and the world — was deprived both of a powerful intellect and of a creative Christian.

THE INTERPRETERS OF BONHOEFFER

How should one approach Bonhoeffer? This question must be raised because Bonhoeffer has become many things to many people as his influence continues to grow. He has been interpreted along thematic lines; i.e., his total work is viewed from the motif of Christology, ecclesiology, hermeneutics,23 or some other theme. On the other hand, some interpreters use his later writings, particularly the Letters and Papers from Prison, as standard and ignore the earlier works to a large extent.

Our purpose in this work is to survey Bonhoeffer’s work and thought. We are not defending any interpretation, but if this be forced upon us we would have to lean toward the "whole Bonhoeffer." Before embarking upon our survey, the reader can bear in mind that Bonhoeffer is viewed along several different lines. We offer the following sketch which is by no means exhaustive.

1. One of the early popularizers of Bonhoeffer was John A. T. Robinson, Bishop of Woolwich, who wrote Honest to God.24 Bonhoeffer is an acknowledged mentor of Robinson, who draws freely on the Letters and Papers from Prison. Having read extracts of Bonhoeffer as early as 1952, he obtained the phrases, "God of the gaps," "world come of age," "man for others," and similar terms. But Robinson did not attempt an exposition of these phrases as other interpreters came to do. He attempted a method of correlation between Bonhoeffer and other writers, most often with Paul Tillich, the German-American theologian.

Robinson uses Bonhoeffer to raise what he terms pertinent questions, but with answers coming along Tillich’s line of thought. This is unusual and a little strange, because Bonhoeffer’s judgment was that the world passed Tillich by because he "sought to understand the world better than it understood itself."25 In addition to Tillich, Robinson appeals to such diverse ideas as Rudolf Bultmann’s demythologizing,26 Julian Huxley’s religion without revelation, and Albert Camus’s understanding of man without God. These and other writers appear linked to Bonhoeffer either as saying the same thing he said in different words, or as providing answers to questions he raised.

One cannot help being suspicious of the link between Bonhoeffer and many of the writers that Robinson associates with him. The proposals they offered, particularly those of Tillich and Bultmann, were seriously questioned by Bonhoeffer. If this were not enough, one ought to be hesitant in using Bonhoeffer’s incomplete, undeveloped, and enigmatic utterances.

2. Bonhoeffer is acclaimed as a major stimulus of the radical death-of-God movement. Paul M. Van Buren, often associated with this movement, uses Bonhoeffer as a springboard for setting forth his own brand of theology. He quotes the July 16, 1944, letter from prison for his platform, calling for a new theology without the God-hypothesis. Van Buren uses the services of linguistic analysis to repudiate any content-meaning for the word "God." In its place he builds his religious system upon the historical Jesus who, after the crucifixion, exercised a contagious influence on the disciples who perceived anew his unique brand of freedom.27

William Hamilton, another acknowledged leader of the movement, affirms Bonhoeffer’s influence on his thought. While admitting that Bonhoeffer’s meaning of "religionless Christianity" will probably remain unknown, Hamilton uses the term as a stimulus to set forth his own ideas. God as a problem-solver must be rejected, as well as the idea that man has a "God-shaped blank" within him.28 Hamilton’s brief sketch of Bonhoeffer on the twentieth anniversary of his death builds primarily on the Letters, showing that Bonhoeffer is important for the concepts of the "world coming of age" and "religionless Christianity."29 The emphasis of Hamilton and others in the related Honest to God Debate has caused some critics to misread Bonhoeffer and accuse him of practical atheism.80

The implication of atheism is not the usual story of the interpreters of Bonhoeffer, however. David Jenkins, in his Guide to the Debate About God, cautions, "Whatever Bonhoeffer meant by his call to Christians to be ‘without religion’ it is clear that it was no call to be ‘without God’."31 Bonhoeffer criticizes religion but "presupposes the existence of the Christian fellowship and the givenness of the Bible."32

3. The literature on Bonhoeffer in Germany is divided into two schools. The position of Gerhard Ebeling centers on the hermeneutical implications of the Letters and Papers from Prison. The other group considers the "whole Bonhoeffer" and uses a motif study generally along Christological lines. This is the view of Eberhard Bethge,33 the close friend of Bonhoeffer. Jurgen Moltmann follows this position in his essay, "The Lordship of Christ and Human Society,"34 in which he analyzes the Letters in light of the "complete" Bonhoeffer. Along a similar line is Jurgen Weissbach’s essay, "Christology and Ethics."35

4. In America one of the early important works was that of John Godsey, The Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer.36 Godsey treats Bonhoeffer’s theology from the standpoint of Christ existing as the church, that is, using ecclesiology37 as the clue to his thought. Questions have been raised about Godsey’s method of fitting the later works into this framework when they do not seem to deal with ecclesiology per se. Yet in spite of criticism of this motif by some writers,38 a noteworthy work by a Roman Catholic follows this ecclesiological motif. William Kuhns, who is the first Roman Catholic to write a book on Bonhoeffer, stands in substantial agreement with the view of Godsey.39

John A. Phillips criticizes Godsey and himself writes of Bonhoeffer from the standpoint of Christology, asserting that Jesus Christ is "the best clue to his thinking."40 Although Bonhoeffer’s Christology developed, Phillips maintained that it is a constant motif throughout his writings. Even in the light of Phillips’s criticism of Godsey, it may be questioned whether a real distinction can be made between ecclesiology and the doctrine of Christ in Bonhoeffer.

One other work may be noted in this brief survey. William B. Gould uses discipleship as the basic organizing theme in his work, The Worldly Christian.41 While it is an interesting organizational device, it is doubtful if discipleship means anything without the Christological perspective. There are other interesting and useful works, but we now turn to Bonhoeffer himself.

 

NOTES:

1. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Letters and Papers from Prison, trans. Reginald Fuller, rev. ed. (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1967), p. 179.

2. Mary Bosanquet, The Life and Death of Dietrich Bonhoeffer (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1968), p. 45.

3. Ibid.

4. Ibid., p. 60.

5. Ibid., p. 89.

6. Ibid., p. 101.

7. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, No Rusty Swords (New York: Harper & Row, 1965).

8. Cf. Karl Barth, Die christliche Dogmatik im Entwurf (Munich: Chr. Kaiser Verlag, 1927), Vol. IV/1, III/4, III/1, IV/2.

9. No Rusty Swords, pp. 237-40.

10. Bosanquet, op. cit., p. 103.

11. No Rusty Swords, pp. 182-89.

12. John D. Godsey, The Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1960), p. 88.

13. Bosanquet, op. cit., p. 174.

14. Maria Von Wedemeyer-Weller in Bonhoeffer in a World Come of Age, ed. Peter Vorkink (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1968), p. 109.

15. No Rusty Swords, pp. 157-73.

16. Letters and Papers from Prison, p. xix.

17. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship, trans. R. H. Fuller, rev. ed. (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1960), p. 22.

18. Bosanquet, op. cit., p. 229.

19. Ibid., p. 271.

20. Ibid., p. 272.

21. I Knew Dietrich Bonhoeffer, ed. Wolf-Dieter Zimmermann and Ronald Gregor Smith, trans. by Kathe Gregor Smith (New York: Harper & Row, 1966), p. 232.

22. Bosanquet, op. cit., p. 16.

23. Hermeneutics is often defined as the art of interpreting Scripture and therefore deals with principles of interpretation. However, modern usage of the word means the unfolding of the Scripture message in terms of the modern setting.

24. John A. T. Robinson, Honest to God (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1963).

25. Letters and Papers from Prison, p. 170.

26. Bultmann argues that the world view of the Bible is out of date. It is written in mythical terms, and demythologizing it means that the myth is stripped away to get at the truth embodied in the myth. Cf. Bultmann’s essay, "New Testament and Mythology," in Kerygma and Myth, ed. Hans Bartsch (New York: Harper & Row, 1961), p. 3.

27. Paul M. Van Buren, The Secular Meaning of the Gospel (New York: The Macmillan Co., 1963), p. 133.

28. Thomas J. 1. Altizer and William Hamilton, Radical Theology and the Death of God (New York: The Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1966), p. 40.

29. Ibid., pp. 116-18.

30. Cf. Alasdair Macintyre, "God and the Theologians," in The Honest to God Debate, ed. David L. Edwards (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1963), p. 222.

31. David Jenkins, Guide to the Debate About God (Philadelphia: The Westminster Press, 1966), p. 100.

32. Ibid., p. 104.

33. Eberhard Bethge, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, trans. Eric Mosbacher, et al. (New York: Harper & Row, 1970). Cf. also E. Bethge, "The Challenge of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Life and Theology," World Come of Age, ed. Ronald Gregor Smith (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1967).

34. Jurgen Moltmann and Jurgen Weissbach, Two Studies in the Theology of Bonhoeffer, trans. Reginald H. Fuller and Ilse Fuller (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1967).

35. Ibid.

36. See note 12.

37. Ecclesiology, or the doctrine of the church and the nature of its existence as the body of Christ.

38. John A. Phillips, Christ for Us in the Theology of Dietrich Bonhoeffer (New York: Harper & Row, 1967).

39. William Kuhns, In Pursuit of Dietrich Bonhoeffer (Garden City: Doubleday, Image Books, 1969).

40. Phillips, op. cit., p. 27.

41. William B. Gould, The Worldly Christian (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1967).

Preface

An invitation to do a short work on Bonhoeffer was an opportunity for me to dig deeper into this brilliant theologian. This work will not command the attention of the devotee of Bonhoeffer. It is designed to give the reader a quick snapshot view of the man, his life and thought. If I have succeeded in doing this, I will have more than passed my hopeful expectations.

There are always numerous people that help in making a book possible. First on the list is Dr. Bob Patterson of Baylor University, who serves as the General Editor of this series. His kindness in asking me places me in debt to him. A special word of gratitude goes to various library resources: The library of the College of Emporia, the library of the United Christian Fellowship, and the William Allen White Library. These libraries have been patient with me although I had several of their books over a period of some months.

As usual, an author owes gratitude to his wife and children while he removes his presence from their activities, and this one is no exception. Thus I must dedicate this work to my wife, Elaine, and my two loving children, Lyman and Dalaine.

Dallas M. Roark

Editor’s Preface

Who are the thinkers that have shaped Christian theology in our time? This series tries to answer that question by providing a reliable guide to the ideas of the men who have significantly charted the theological seas of our century. In the current revival of theology, these books will give a new generation the opportunity to be exposed to significant minds. They are not meant, however, to be a substitute for a careful study of the original works of these makers of the modern theological mind.

This series is not for the lazy. Each major theologian is examined carefully and critically — his life, his theological method, his most germinal ideas, his weaknesses as a thinker, his place in the theological spectrum, and his chief contribution to the climate of theology today. The books are written with the assumption that laymen will read them and enter into the theological dialogue that is so necessary to the church as a whole. At the same time they are carefully enough designed to give assurance to a Ph.D. student in theology preparing for his preliminary exams.

Each author in the series is a professional scholar and theologian in his own right. All are specialists on, and in some cases have studied with, the theologians about whom they write. Welcome to the series.

BOB E. PATTERSON, Editor

Baylor University

Chapter 9: Reflection

Giving reasons for one’s beliefs is a normal and routine activity in many areas of our lives: Why do you believe that the economy is improving? What reason is there to believe that he will be successful? How do you know that what you said is true? etc. In religion the same request for reasons for one’s beliefs arises. The request is as reasonable in religion as it is in other areas. But giving those reasons is often more difficult in religion than in other areas. Why? Primarily because most people are taught religious ideas as children and because often these ideas are given a seriousness and a sacredness that precludes an open and investigative approach to them.

The reluctance to reason about religious beliefs must be overcome. Blind faith will not do in religion any more than it will do in science, history, economics, etc. The recognition of other beliefs (other religions as well as other beliefs in our religion), the desire to understand, the hope to explain to another, the wish to know the truth, and the attempt to unify all of one’s beliefs into a coherent whole are motivations for reasoning about religious beliefs.

Whitehead’s thought provides us with an unusual opportunity to reexamine our religious beliefs because he created a new view of reality. What have we gained in insights about religion from this study of a Whiteheadian philosophy of religion?

This study has dealt with the nature of the world, the nature of God, the nature of man, and with two issues stemming from the relationship of these three: the problem of evil and the question of immortality.

Beginning with a view of the nature of entities as events one can construct a coherent world view which is productive of insights in understanding the nature of God and of man. New insights derived from understanding the nature of God in terms of this perception of reality produce a picture of God that is more consistent with the requirements of those who worship (i.e., a religious God) than traditional concepts about God. These insights include the idea that God changes but is not imperfect by doing so. Perfection is redefined as the unsurpassable creative advance into novelty. The perfect being is that which is unsurpassable by any other. God is understood as unchanging in his primordial nature which envisions the eternal objects and as changing in his creative response to the events of the world.

God is immanent in the world as the initial aim of each actual entity and as the lure toward creative achievement in the world. He is a part of every creation in the world. But the world is also immanent in God in that God prehends the world in himself: "He shares with every new creation its actual world. . . ." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 345) Hence God’s ". . .derivative nature is consequent upon the creative advance of the world." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 345)

In such a view, God includes the whole world, not just all people or all living things but all of reality. The flux of the world finds an everlastingness in God. Each event has everlasting significance in the consequent nature of God. Value is not just attributed to people (who surely are valuable) but to every event of the creative advance. Value cannot be absent in the nature of things and then made an ad hoc addition to man. The creative advance is a valuing process. Man is the most complex valuing agent (outside God) that we know, but as such is like all other agents in the world.

The significance of Whiteheadian thought for an understanding of the nature of man lies in its ability to justify many of qualities necessary to the dignity of the human being, such as freedom, self-respect, self-creation, and responsibility. The intellectual challenge to such ideas is well-known. Scientific mechanism and psychological behaviorism undercut modern man’s view of himself as being free. For example, B. F. Skinner in Beyond Freedom and Dignity proposes that people are psychologically determined and not free. He argues that freedom is an illusion.

A belief in freedom cannot endure without intellectual justification. And without a belief in human freedom, an open, free, democratic society cannot endure. Authoritarianism (political, religious, etc.) is rooted in a deterministic view of man. Whitehead’s view of reality expressed in his concept of the self is the most important philosophical defense of freedom and creativity in the twentieth century.

The problem of evil is seen in a new light in two ways: reality consists in a vast multiplicity of active agents whose decisions or selections affect the events of the world and destructiveness is a part of the nature of any creation. The Whiteheadian view is that the world consists of actual entities (and complexes of actual entities) which have a measure of self-determination means that what is actualized is open to these entities. Since God does not determine the events, he is not responsible for their actions. God’s transcendence does not entail his determination of all things but his prehending of all things into one creative experience. Destructiveness is a part of creativeness. Process entails moving from the old to the new, the past fades, the present is momentary, the future rushes in. Absoluteness, permanentness, and the eternal unchanging are abstractions. The concrete is in flux, relative and specific. Moral destructiveness is attributed to the complex entity called the self. But this destructiveness is but a part of the general destructiveness that is a part of reality. The Whiteheadian view of the world permits us to understand the desire for immortality and the nature of immortality in a new way. The desire for immortality is in part the need for temporal events to embody value and for this value to have sustained realization. Every event, including the highly ordered complex of actual occasions called the self, has value. Its value lies both in its own uniqueness and in its everlasting contribution to God in the creative advance into novelty.

My Whiteheadian view affirms both objective immortality and subjective immortality. By objective immortality I mean that each event in the universe forever effects the course of events since they are the data base of all subsequent events. Also they are prehended by God and hence obtain an everlastingness in God. Immortality entails a transformation of each event, a conformation of that event with the eternal order and an everlasting union with God.

By subjective immortality I mean that the subjective feeling (which in persons includes consciousness) is retained in God. Each temporal feeling, transformed into that feeling in God, is everlastingly immediate in God. The immortality of an event is that it becomes a living, ever-present fact in God. Each event of a person is ". . .that person in God." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 350) I agree with Hartshorne that immortality includes the subjective immediacy of persons: personal consciousness is retained. We can never be less in God than we have been.

I see no reason why subjective immortality cannot include an indefinite addition of experiences. Which is to say that I do not find Hartshorne’s and Ogden’s arguments against this persuasive. The additional experiences of the transformed person in God will conform to his subjective aim. This final unity of purpose and aim is what I take heaven to be.

Each reader must judge for himself/herself whether the above insights are reflective of their religious experiences and fruitful for their own understanding. Whitehead’s views are a source for much contemporary theological discussion. If this book has piqued the reader’s interest, then the writer’s purpose has been achieved.

Chapter 8: A Whiteheadian Conception of Immortality

On several occasions Whitehead refers to basic insights or initial intuitions or feelings of mankind which require explanations or justifications. Man’s desire for immortality is one of these initial intuitions, or persistent dreams, desires, or impulses of mankind. Throughout the centuries, by stories and actions, various cultures have reinforced the concept of immortality. The Egyptian beliefs concerning immortality and their attendant burial practices are one of the most obvious historical instances of the expression of this basic desire. The Christian belief in resurrection is another. The Greek belief in the immortality of the soul is yet another. These views differ and may not even be compatible, but they express a fundamental impulse of the human spirit. Whitehead, quoting a New Testament saying, expresses it this way: ". . .the higher intellectual feelings are haunted by the vague insistence of another order, where there is no unrest, no travel, no shipwreck: ‘There shall be no more sea."’ (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 340)

If we begin with this fundamental impulse of the human spirit, the question is how to express it. In our attempts to define it, we must be aware that we may have expressed it incorrectly. Is it the impulse that nothing be lost? Is it the self’s desire to continue? to be immortal? to be a god? Is it the desire that our acts have meaning? Is it the desire that things have "real" value? Initially, we can hardly determine if we have stated the question correctly.

Any explanation is subject to the objection that it is not addressing the correct question. Thus we may have to work backwards here. We may have to construct answers to our suggested questions and then determine if the question and the answer correctly express the basic impulse of the human spirit.

We desire new insights. It is not enough to say that a new approach is inconsistent with, say the traditional, orthodox, Christian view. It may or may not be. Progress means novelty, not repetition. We seek new insights because we are seekers, not possessors, of the truth. Those who believe that they have the truth in this matter or in any other are not lovers of wisdom in the Socratic sense. Rather they are the defenders (the old word is "apologists") of the eternal truth that they claim to have. Their position is static not venturesome, conservative not innovative. They have stopped the pursuit of knowledge. Their only task is to communicate what they already know. Our task is different. We seek insights in order to understand and to express the fundamental impulse.

Whitehead’s creative and original mind presents us with a new conception of immortality. Whitehead’s conception is subject to the criteria of both being an adequate expression of the basic impulse and of being consistent with other things we claim to know. In this case it is a question of his view of immortality being consistent with his view of reality. If it is an adequate expression of the basic impulse and consistent with his system, this will help to validate his system by showing that it is adequate to deal with this issue. One of the requirements of validation placed on any system is that it be comprehensive.

Whitehead senses the problem to be that the temporal world fades and what once was is no more. There is loss. And the person is part of what is lost. He/she is dead, gone, no more. How could something that significant, that important, that magnificent, that creative, that wonderful just disappear, just be no more? What loss we feel! Is this the final fact? Is reality this tragic? Is there an ultimate metaphysical generality that makes this so? His answer is, "No."

His statement of his sense of the problem is worth quoting:

"The ultimate evil. . . .lies in the fact that the past fades, that time is a ‘perpetual perishing.’ Objectification involves elimination. The present fact has not the past fact with it in any full immediacy. The process of time veils the past below distinctive feeling. There is a unison of becoming among things in the present. Why should there not be novelty without loss of this direct unison of immediacy among things? In the temporal world, it is the empirical fact that process entails loss: the past is present under an abstraction. But there is no reason, of any ultimate metaphysical generality, why this should be the whole story." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 340)

It is important in discussing Whitehead’s concept of immortality to remember that Whitehead has rejected the traditional concept of the soul as a substance, a thing. In this rejection he breaks with both Greek thought (Socrates’ belief that the soul is an eternal entity which always existed and will always exist) and traditional Christian theology (the soul is a substance created by God, and it will exist forever). The fundamental reason for the rejection is Whitehead’s rejection of substance philosophy, i.e. the view that the universe is composed of substances. Specifically he argues, "The doctrine of the enduring soul with its permanent characteristics is exactly the irrelevant answer to the problem which life presents. That problem is, ‘How can there be originality?"’ (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 104) Whitehead’s whole philosophy is designed to answer this question. And his concept of the presiding personality is a specific response to the question. But the concept of soul as an eternal entity has the advantage of providing a basis for a belief in life after death. It also has the advantage of being a common term and Whitehead uses it extensively in his popular book, The Adventures of Ideas, even though he rarely uses it elsewhere.

A full discussion of Whitehead’s concept of the human self is in Chapter VI. But it will be helpful to refer to Whiteheadian insights into the nature of the self that are germane to a discussion of immortality.

The most extensive section appropriate to this discussion is in Process and Reality at the end of a chapter on order ("The Order of Nature," which is chapter 3 of Part II). We need to note two important things about his comments about human personality: One, he says very little. His main concern is to present his view of the basic units of reality; thus he devotes little space to the higher levels of complexity of these basic units. Two, he warns us that what he says is "largely conjectural" and that it refers to ". . .the hierarchy of societies composing our present epoch." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 96) His comments are conjectural because he has left metaphysical generality and is ". . .considering the more special possibilities of explanation consistent with our general cosmological doctrine, but not necessitated by it." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 96) Likewise, his comments refer only to our epoch because there may be other epochs in which these more specialized laws do not apply.

Whitehead’s concept of the human self is that it is a highly-ordered complex of actual occasions. He says that ". . .a living nexus. . .may support a thread of personal order along some historical route of its members. Such an enduring entity is a ‘living person."’ (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 107) Again he says, "The enduring personality is the historic route of living occasions which are severally dominant in the body at successive instants." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 119) Regarding its specific relation to the body, he says, ". . .the brain is coordinated so that a peculiar richness of inheritance is enjoyed now by this and now by that part; and thus there is produced the presiding personality at that moment in the body." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 109) The question of immortality has to do with this historic route of living occasions.

His first reference to immortality comes in Religion in the Making. This brief, two-paragraph passage is both helpful and misleading. It is helpful in that he talks about the human self in terms of his system. He is discussing whether there are routes of mentality in which associate material routes are negligible, or entirely absent. But it is misleading because it is a question about whether or not there are purely spiritual beings other than God. This question presupposes that God is a purely spiritual being. Later, Whitehead rejects that idea when he discovered the consequent nature of God.

In this passage he gives no warrant for a belief in purely spiritual beings. "It is entirely neutral on the question of immortality, or on the existence of purely spiritual beings other than God." (Religion in the Making, Cleveland: Meridian Books, 1960, 107) Later it is clear that there can be no purely spiritual beings who have experiences. "Any instance of experience is dipolar, whether that instance be God or an actual occasion of the world." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 36) If there are angels in the Whiteheadian universe, they must have physical bodies. Incidentally, nowhere in the Bible is there an assumption that angels do not have physical bodies.

Immortality with reference to Whitehead’s thought may be referred to in two parts: objective immortality and subjective immortality. It is in the latter that the most difficult questions arise, but the former must not be omitted because it plays a significant role in satisfying the basic instinct of the importance and survivability of value.

By objective immortality he means that, as each actual occasion brings together its resources of becoming into a final satisfaction, it then becomes datum for subsequent actual occasions. When he says that an actual occasion perishes, he means that it happens as an atomic event and then does not change but rather becomes a potential for being an element in subsequent occasions. Having happened, it is objective, that is, it is an object for others to prehend. One of the categories of explanation is: That the potentiality for being an element in a real concrescence. . .is the one general metaphysical character attaching to all entities" (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 22) The actual occasion having occurred has attained objective immortality. It loses its own living immediacy and becomes ". . .a real component in other living immediacies of becoming." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, xiv) "It loses the final causation which is its internal principle of unrest, and it acquires efficient causation whereby it is a ground of obligation characterizing the creativity." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 29)

Each occasion of our experience is immortal because it becomes datum for subsequent occasions both in our own route of occasions (our own selves) and in that of other occasions. It remains forever in this state; hence it is immortal. Its efficient causation (effect) on the world may diminish with time but it never ceases.

A powerful example is the effect that the evolutionary development of an organism that existed millions of years ago (such as the first organisms) has on my present physical existence. But whether the effect is small or large, its place in the process of the universe can never be erased. We, in fact, in reality, have objective immortality. The universe bares the imprint of each person. The imprint can never be obliterated. "The pragmatic use of the actual entity, constituting its static life, lies in the future. The creature perishes and is immortal." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 82) What does it contribute? A new objective condition is ". . .added to the riches of definiteness attainable, the ‘real potentiality’ of the universe." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 223)

But Whitehead knows that objective immortality in the temporal world does not satisfy that deep sense of intuition of immortality. Something more is required. He writes: "But objective immortality within the temporal world does not solve the problem set by the penetration of the finer religious intuition. ‘Everlastingness’ has been lost; and ‘everlastingness’ is the content of that vision upon which the finer religions are built — the ‘many’ absorbed everlastingly in the final unity." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 347) Whitehead is suggesting that it is not enough for the person to know that he will have an impact which will remain forever on the temporal world. The something more that is required is the content of that vision: that the many are everlastingly a part of the final unity of reality, God.

Having objective immortality in God opens the flood-gates of insight for Whitehead. Important consequences result: we become everlasting by our objective immortality in God. "Everlasting" means the ". . .property of combining creative advance with the retention of mutual immediacy. . . ." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 346) Whitehead’s proposal is that everlastingness is a feature of the consequent nature of God. God prehends every actuality in the temporal world. His prehensions of these actualities as they occur are unified into a harmony. Hence each is taken for what it can be in his perfect experience. But unlike man’s experiences which when experienced perish, God’s unified feeling is always immediate, never perishing, even as it is always moving forward in a creative advance into novelty. So each temporal feeling, transformed into that feeling in God, is everlastingly immediate in God. "The consequent nature of God is the fluent world become ‘everlasting’ by its objective immortality in God." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 347)

How can this be? Whitehead’s answer is ". . .God is completed by the individual, fluent satisfactions of finite fact, and the temporal occasions are completed by their everlasting union with their transformed selves, purged into conformation with the eternal order which is the final absolute ‘wisdom."’ (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 347)

Three things are involved here: the everlasting union, the transformation of the occasions, and the conformation of the occasions with the eternal order. The first of these things highlights the everlasting aspect, that is, that the union will never cease. It is everlasting rather than eternal because it has not always been, but rather the union occurs after the becoming of the occasion. In the everlasting union each occasion becomes a part of the nature of God.

The second aspect is the transformation. Whitehead notes, "The corresponding element in God’s nature is not temporal actuality, but is the transmutation of that temporal actuality into a living, ever-present fact." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 350) The difference is that the occasion, as a temporal actuality, fades into the past. As an occasion which is prehended by God, it becomes a part of God. And God has no past. God is an actual entity, eternally prehending, and he has eternal satisfaction without perishing. So the occasion, which is a fading element in the world, retains its vividness in God as a "living, ever-present fact." In God, succession of occasions does not mean loss of immediate unison. In referring to the transformed entity in God, Whitehead calls it "a living, ever-present fact," "the correlate fact," "element," and "the counterpart." This transformed entity in God inherits from the temporal world according to the same principle that the present occasion (self) inherits from the past occasion (self). Just as ". . .the present occasion is the person now, and yet with his own past," so the counterpart of this occasion in God is "that person in God." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 350)

The third aspect is the conformation of the occasion with the eternal order. Each occasion is positively prehended by God (none is lost) and is given its appropriate place in the unity of God’s nature. Each person then becomes a part of the final unity. The initial intuition of the many becoming one and of the one being many is expressed in this insight.

So this thread of living occasions — which we call ourselves — not only has objective immortality in the temporal world but also has objective immortality in God. Since God prehends each actual occasion in his consequent nature, that occasion is eternally a part of God. "The consequent nature of God is the fluent world become ‘everlasting’ by its objective immortality in God." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 347) Hence the feeling of the need, the intuition, of immortality may be (partially or entirely?) met in the awareness of one’s experiences existing forever in God. We contribute not only to the physical universe but also to God.

Whitehead has argued for an objective immortality in God. But a fundamental problem with his account remains: does the person retain his subjective immediacy? Is there individual immortality in the sense that I will be conscious of myself as a thread of actual occasions? The answer to this is not easy. It is not simple either to understand what Whitehead believed, or to understand what is consistent with his system (whether or not he held that position), or to know how to modify his system without destroying it so as to make this possible. Whiteheadian scholars have taken many approaches to this problem.

Before we explore this set of problems, we should note that even if one rejects all subjective immediacy for the prehended occasions and has only objective immortality, Whitehead has presented a view of significant immortality for presiding personalities. He says that ". . .there is the phase of perfected actuality, in which the many are one everlastingly, without the qualification of any loss either of individual identity or of completeness of unity." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 350-351) Some of his students, notably Schubert Ogden, find this sufficient and indeed preferable in some ways to the traditional personal immortality.

Is there subjective immortality? This question may mean two different things: (1) Is the immediacy of subjectivity retained or reenacted in the person in God? That is, is the person consciously alive or does he just exist as a part of God as our past selves are a part of our present self? Sometimes this is referred to as the person existing in the memory of God. (2) Do we keep on having new experiences indefinitely or infinitely in God?

Whitehead suggests but does not develop the idea of subjective immortality. His suggestion comes in his statement in the next-to-last paragraph of Process and Reality: "In everlastingness, immediacy is reconciled with objective immortality." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 351) He is stressing that nothing is lost. While in temporal occasions, succession does mean the fading of the occasion as it becomes a part of the past, he is arguing that the counterpart of the occasion in God has a greater unity of life than it had in the temporal world and that in God ". . .succession does not mean loss of immediate unison." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 350) Individual identity and completeness of unity are retained, as apparently is immediacy.

In Adventures of Ideas he says that the living body of a man supports ". . .a personal living society of high-grade occasions. This personal society is the man as defined as a person. It is the soul of which Plato spoke." (Adventures of Ideas, New York: The Free Press, 1967, 208) He then comments, "How far this soul finds a support for its existence beyond the body is: — another question. The everlasting nature of God. . .may establish with the soul a peculiarly intense relationship of mutual immanence. Thus in some important sense the existence of the soul may be freed from its complete dependence upon the bodily organization." (Adventures of Ideas, New York: The Free Press, 1967, 208) These latter comments demonstrate the trap that lies in wait for anyone, even Whitehead, who thinks in terms of the Platonic soul because almost inevitability the thought turns to the existence of the soul apart from the body. Such a separation of physical and mental, fluent and permanent, many and one, violates the fundamental principles of Whitehead s system. John Cobb, Jr. in his book, A Christian Natural Theology,1 makes this same error in his discussion of life after death as a part of a chapter on the human soul. To put the question in Platonic terms merely repeats worn-out arguments. Whitehead provided a fresh approach with the system presented in Process and Reality, and so the question should be framed in reference to that system. Does the presiding personality retain its subjective immediacy and does it continue to expand its routes of occasions?

Some Whiteheadian scholars argue for the reenactment of subjective immediacy of the prehended entity. They interpret Whitehead to mean that "these actual components enjoy their own subjective immediacy within God."2 The retention of subjective immediacy within the everlastingness of God’s nature is seen then as subjective immortality.3 Some argue that subjective immortality is necessary for the religious need of continuity between present hope and future fulfillment, redemption and fulfillment, and the overcoming of evil.4

But many interpreters have not carefully distinguished between the two meanings of subjective immortality noted above. Lewis Ford and Marjorie Suchocki in a joint article argue for the first meaning (reenactment of subjective immediacy). But they seem to reject the second meaning when they say that ". . .in God we no longer act but contemplate."5 Their position is not clear because the distinction between acting and contemplating is without force here. To contemplate is to change as much as to act is to change.6 If they deny change then the personality does not add experiences; if they grant change, then it does. They also say, "Individual occasions in God eventually lose their individuality as their experience of the future fades into insignificance and they imperceptibly merge with the next lower level. . ."7

Schubert Ogden, author of The Reality of God and Other Essays and an outstanding process theologian, argues against subjective immortality, which he defines in the second sense, as people ". . .continuing to exist as subjects for the infinite future."8 Not only does he think that personal immortality is not essential for Christianity, he presents theological objections against it. He believes it reflects self-assertiveness similar to man’s primal sin which is the desire to be like God. He says that ". . .the only immortality or resurrection which is essential to Christian hope is not our own subjective survival of death, but our objective immortality or resurrection in God. . .imperishably united with all creation into his own unending life."9

Marjorie Suchocki attacks Ogden but the attack seems misdirected since she primarily argues for subjective immortality in the first sense of retaining the immediacy of the entity. She argues that ". . .the immediacy of an entity is retained in the everlastingness of God. . ."10

If she retains subjective immortality in the second sense, it is a highly qualified retention. She says, "The type of immortality which a process conceptuality suggests is subjective, retaining the living experience of the entity, but it transcends personality. . . ."11 And she adds, ". . .the boundaries of personality have been left far behind as pertinent solely to finite existence in the temporal world."12 If the boundaries of personality are gone, it seems that there is no personal immortality in the sense of a continuing self.

David Griffin argues for the possibility of subjective immortality in the second sense.13 He argues that the psyche is just as real as material bodies. But both are abstractions. The concrete is the personally ordered series of actual entities which have both physical and mental aspects. The question is whether or not the personally ordered series has additional actual occasions.

Although Charles Hartshorne is not using the terms of objective and subjective immortality, he affirms objective immortality when he argues, ". . .death is not sheer destruction, the turning of being into not-being. . . .whatever death may mean it cannot mean that a man is first something real and then something unreal."14 He adds, ". . .we must break once for all with the idea of death as simple destruction of an individual. . . .individuals are eternal realities. . . ."15 Using the illustration of a book he says, "Death is the last page of the last chapter of the book of one’s life. . . ."16 And he comments, ". . .death, like ‘finis’ at the end of a book, no more means the destruction of our earthly reality than the last chapter of a book means the destruction of the book."17 For Hartshorne man’s immortality lies in God’s memory. He says, "Only in one sense do we serve God forever. Since he, having unsurpassable memory, cannot lose what he has once acquired, in acquiring us as we are on earth he acquires us forevermore."18 "Since God forgets nothing, loses no value once acquired, our entire worth is imperishable in the divine life."19 And it is important to notice the difference between the memory of a man and the memory of God. Hartshorne says, "This permanence includes the immortality of the past in the divine memory. To say an event is "past" for God does not mean that ii is absent from his present awareness; it means that it is not the "final increment" of determinate detail contained in that aware. ness. . . ."20

Hartshorne also argues for subjective immediacy in the sense of the retention of immediacy. He says, ". . .the entity itself with all the reality of life it ever had, no more and no less, is added to the de facto sum of entities apprehended in the subsequent phrases of the divine life. The saying that ‘subjectivity is lost’. . .is misleading."21

He also comments, ". . .we can never be less than we have been to God, we can in reality never be less than we have been."22 "Our consciousness, so far as there ever has been such a thing as our consciousness, will still be there in God. It will be such consciousness as we had before dying, but all of it will be imperishable in God."23

But Hartshorne rejects subjective immortality in the sense of infinite addition of experiences. With regard to our continuing reality, he draws a distinction between ". . .retained actuality and reality in the form of further actualization."24 He holds that we have retained actuality in God’s memory, but he rejects infinitely further actualization of ourselves. He says, ". . .all arguments for personal immortality. . .seem to me fallacious. . . I see no need for post-terrestrial rewards or punishments — beyond the satisfaction, to be achieved now, of feeling one’s earthly actuality indestructibly, definitively, appropriated in the divine participation."25 His view is ". . .that only the primordial being can be everlasting. However, every event is everlasting ‘by proxy’ as it were, in that it is bound to be inherited as an antecedent condition or datum by every subsequent event, and hence also any everlasting being that there may be. This is Whitehead’s ‘objective immortality’, which seems a significant counter to the negativity of death only if we assume an everlasting being able ever afterwards fully to appreciate our lives. . . .26

Hartshorne also rejects personal immortality because "Immortality is a divine trait. . ." and ". . .immortality puts us in rivalry with deity in one respect. . ."27 God is not the means to our ultimate fulfillment (contra Kant and John Hick), but rather our fulfillment is a means to God’s ultimate fulfilment.

However, Hartshorne qualifies his position. He is most certain that there cannot be subtraction or loss. He does not believe that there are additional experiences but admits that ". . .personal survival after death with memory of personal life before death is hardly an absolute absurdity."28 But he does argue that infinite addition ". . .looks to me like a genuine impossibility."29 The reason he holds this last position is that given unlimited future time, "unlimited novelty must accrue" and this violates our limited natures by our becoming unlimited.

This argument is inadequate because the universe is a creative advance into novelty which will never cease. Hartshorne concurs that there is no final perfect state. So a continual addition of finite novel experiences, even given the unendingness of this addition, would not give one an infinite creature. If there can be addition at all, I see no reason why these additions could not go on forever. On the contrary, if there can be any addition it would be consistent to argue that they would continue just as it is the nature of reality to create novel events continually. The line must be drawn at addition/no addition. And the determination must be dependent upon how the Whiteheadian system might consistently be used to deal with the problem. Whiteheadian scholarship must focus on this determination because, as of now, no one has presented an adequate solution.

We must evaluate Hartshorne’s general position based on whether or not it satisfactorily illuminates the initial intuition of immortality. Hartshorne holds that the heart of the intuition of immortality lies in the retention of values. The negative statement of the problem is ". . .the final state of things. . .may be the complete destruction of all values."30 Hartshorne rejects this possibility because ". . .no action, not even suicide, could express the belief in the possible eventual nullity of all action."31 So to act at all entails the assertion of value and for something to have had value entails at least a memory that would assert it having had that value. That cosmic memory must be eternal, or otherwise, there would be no value when it ceased to be. Whitehead’s (and other’s) conception of God provides the required eternal cosmic memory. Immortality then resides in God’s memory. Immortality is an essential aspect of value. This is the meaning of the initial intuition of immortality: there is unending value to events, and the events have unending immediacy in the consequent nature of God.

Whitehead discusses the connections between fact, value, and immortality in his lecture, "Immortality", which was given on April 22, 1941 as the Ingersoll Lecture at the Harvard Divinity School. He says, ". . .the topic of ‘The Immortality of Man’ is. . .a side issue in the wider topic, which is ‘The Immortality of Realized Value:’ namely, the temporality of mere fact acquiring the immortality of value."32 He first asks if we can discover in the world of fact any adjustment for the embodiment of value. He finds such an adjustment in ". . .the tendency of the transitory occasions of fact to unite themselves into sequences of Personal Identity."33 He characterizes personal identity: "A whole sequence of actual occasions, each with its own present immediacy, is such that each occasion embodies in its own being the antecedent members of that sequence with an emphatic experience of the self-identity of the past in the immediacy of the present."34 Personal identity so defined is offered as "the key example" for understanding the fusion of activity and value. Personality then is the best example of a sustained realization of value in the world.

Whitehead simplifies the complexity of the world by utilizing two abstractions: the world of activity and the world of value. Another way of saying the same thing is to say that every factor in the universe can be viewed both from its temporal side in the world of activity and from its immortal side in the world of value. Still another characterization of the same point is that each event is both a realization (a concrete instance) and a valuation (the result of a selection process). We see in the world of change that enduring personal identity is the realization of value in that world. The converse is that in the world of value enduring personal identity is retained as a concrete instance of value. So Whitehead concludes, "Thus the effective realization of value in the World of Change should find its counterpart in the World of Value: — this means that temporal personality in one world involves immortal personality in the other."35

These immortal personalities become a part of God, ". . .factors in the nature of God."36 God is ". . .the unification of the multiple personalities received from the Active World."37 In the terms of Whitehead’s system, presiding personality gains everlastingness in the consequent nature of God.

Where does this account leave us? What is the specific nature of our immortality? What have we gained in understanding here? Whitehead comments, "This immortality of the World of Action, derived from its transformation in God’s nature is beyond our imagination to conceive. The various attempts at description are often shocking and profane. What does haunt our imagination is that the immediate facts of present action pass into permanent significance for the Universe. . . .Otherwise every activity is merely a passing whiff of insignificance."38 What we have learned, if this account is true, is that every act, every event, every realization of value has everlasting significance and contributes everlastingly to the nature of things.

What is the evidence for this account? Whitehead responds, "The only answer is the reaction of our own nature to the general aspect of life in the Universe."39 We are a part of the universe and a part of God, the universe is a part of God, and God is a factor both in our personal existences and in the universe. The point is that there are no independent existences. The everlastingness and significance of each existence is a part of the whole.

 

NOTES:

1. John B. Cobb. Jr., A Christian Natural Theology (Philadelphia: Westminister Press. 1965).

2. Lewis S. Ford and Marjorie Suchocki, "A Whiteheadian Reflection on Subjective Immortality," Process Studies vol. 7, No. 1, Spring, 1917, pp. 1-13. Quotation from p. 5.

3. Marjorie Suchocki, "The Question of Immortality," The Journal of Religion, vol. 57, No. 3, July, 1977, pp. 283-306.

4. Ibid., p. 305.

5. Ford and Suchocki, p. 10.

6. Lori E. Krafte, "Subjective Immortality Revisited," Process Studies, Vol. 9, Nos. 1-2, Spring. Summer. 1979, pp. 35-36.

7. Ford and Suchocki, p. 12.

8. Schubert M. Ogden, "The Meaning of Christian Hope," in the Union Seminary Quarterly Review, Vol. XXX, No,. 2-4, Winter-Summer, 1975, pp. 153-164. Quotation is from p. 161.

9. Ibid. p. 160.

10. Marjorie Suchocki, "The Question of Immortality." in The Journal of Religion, Vol. 57, No. 3, July, 1977, pp. 288-306. Quotation on pp. 298-299.

11. Suchocki, p. 299.

12. Ibid p.299.

13. David Griffin, "The Possibility of Subjective Immortality in Whitehead’s Philosophy," in The Modern Schoolman, LIII, November. 1975, pp. 39-51.

14. Charles Hartshorne, "Time, Death, and Everlasting Life," in The Logic of Perfection and Other Essays In Neoclassical Metaphysics, (Open Court Publishing Co., LaSalle, Illinois, 1962), p. 247. Originally published in "The Journal of Religion," XXXII, 1952.

15. Ibid., p. 249.

16. Ibid., p. 250.

17. Charles Hartshorne, A Natural Theology for Our Time, (Open Court Publishing Co., LaSalle, Ill. 1967), p. 112.

18. Hartshorne, A Natural Theology for Our Time, p. 55.

19. Charles Hartshorne, Omnipotence and Other Theological Mistakes, (State University of New York, Albany, NY, 1934), p. 110.

20. Charles Hartshorne, Man’s Vision of God, (Archon Books, Hamden, Coon., 1964), p. 129.

21. Charles Hartshorne, "Whitehead in French Perspective," in Thomist 33, 1969, p. 575.

22. Hartshorne, Omnipotence and Other Theological Mistakes, p. 121.

23. Hartshorne, Logic of Perfection. . ., p. 253.

24. Hartshorne, Logic of Perfection. . ., p. 251.

25. Hartshorne, A Natural Theology for Our Time, pp. 107-108.

26. Charles Hartshorne, Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, (Open Court Publishing Co., La Salle, Ill., 1970), p. 121.

27. Ibid p. 289.

28. Hartshorne, Logic of Perfection. . ., p. 253.

29. Hartshorne, Logic of Perfection. . ., p. 253.

30. Hartshorne, Man’s Vision of God, p. 156.

31. Ibid. p. 156.

32. Alfred North Whitehead, "Immortality" in The Philosophy of Alfred North Whitehead, ed. by Paul Arthur Schilpp, Second Edition. (Open Court Publishing Co., La Salle, Ill., 1951), p. 688 (682-700).

33. Ibid. p. 688.

34. Ibid. p. 689.

35. Ibid. p. 693.

36. Ibid. p. 694.

37. Ibid. p. 694.

38. Ibid. p. 698.

39. Ibid. p. 698.

Chapter 7: The Problem of Evil from a Whiteheadian Perspective

I heard upon this dry dung heap

That man cry out who cannot sleep:

"If God is God He is not good,

If God is good He is not God;

Take the even, take the odd,

I would not sleep here if I could

Except for the little green leaves in the wood

And the wind on the water,"

— Nickles in J.B.1

The problem of evil has struck in man’s craw from Job to J.B. David Hume in his Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion quotes Epicurus’ version of the problem of evil: "Is he (God) willing to prevent evil, but not able? then is he impotent. Is he able but not willing? then is he malevolent. Is he both able and willing? whence then is evil?"2 This problem can be broken down into its various parts: (1) the nature of evil, (2) the nature of the universe, and (3) the nature of God (a) his omnipotence (b) his goodness.

What happens if we view this traditional problem from a Whiteheadian perspective? Can we come to a better understanding of the problem than we have gained from previous discussions? A better way to view the problem depends upon there being a better way to view evil, the universe, and God. The above discussion of the Whiteheadian view of the nature of the universe and of the nature of God provides that new perspective. Now we need to see how this new perspective aids us in understanding the problem of evil.

It is important this analysis of evil does not trivialize or eliminate it from reality. Rather our purpose is to seek an understanding of a real and serious part of our experience. In doing so we are following Whitehead’s belief that philosophy is the "elucidation of immediate experience." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 4)

Nelson Pike in his book of readings, God and Evil, properly places as the first article, a selection from Dostoevski’s The Brothers Karamazov, which depicts the horror and reality of evil. Ivan presents a case of abused children. Then he says, ". . . all I know is that there is suffering and that there are none guilty; that cause follows effect, simply and directly; that everything flows and finds its level — but that’s only Euclidean nonsense, I know that, and I can’t consent to live by it! What comfort is (it) to me that there are none guilty and that cause follows effect simply and directly, and that I know it — I must have justice, or I will destroy myself."3

Ivan presents real evil which we must not explain away. But Ivan’s response to the evil is inadequate. While the demand for justice is one which we all feel, the fact of our experience is that justice does not prevail. His demand for justice sounds like the whimpering of an adolescent, who, if not given his wish, threatens to rebel against his father.

A more mature reaction than Ivan’s is expressed by Wayne W. Dyer in his book, Your Erroneous Zones. His comment deals primarily with "natural evil," but he provides a better starting place to consider the problem of evil. He says. "Justice does not exist. It never has, and it never will. The world is simply not put together that way. Robins eat worms. That’s not fair to the worms. Spiders eat flies. That’s not fair to the flies. Cougars kill coyotes. Coyotes kill badgers. Badgers kill mice. Mice kill bugs. Bugs. . . You have only to look at nature to realize there is no justice in the world. Tornadoes, floods, tidal waves, droughts are all fair. It is a mythological concept, this justice business. The world and the people in it go on being unfair every day. You can choose to be happy or unhappy, but it has nothing to do with the lack of justice you see around you."4 While this view has some problems, at least it is a no-nonsense position — a good starting point.

If the world is not put together so that justice exists, how is it put together so that evil exists? I think that the clue to our understanding the problem of evil lies in a proper cosmology. And I believe Whitehead’s cosmology will help us understand the experience of evil.

Briefly reiterated, Whitehead’s view is that the basic unit of reality is an actual entity which may be conceived as ". . .a subject presiding over its own immediacy of becoming. . . ." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 45) "The actual entity terminates its becoming in one complex feeling involving a completely determinate bond with every item in the universe, the bond being either a positive or negative prehension." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 44) How does this cosmological view affect the traditional problem of evil?

Whitehead understands evil from the viewpoint of an aesthetician. He says in Religion in the Making, "The metaphysical doctrine, here expounded, finds the foundations of the world in the aesthetic experience. . . .All order is therefore aesthetic order, and the moral order is merely certain aspects of aesthetic order." (Religion in the Making, Cleveland: Meridian Books, 1960, 101) So, according to Whitehead, morality is an aspect of the more basic aesthetic order. He also places logical order under aesthetic order in his comment, "Logicians are not called in to advise artists." (Modes of Thought, New York: The Free Press, 1968 83) (Of course the converse is also true: artists are not called in to advise logicians.) Whitehead’s dominant category here is order. The aesthetic, the ethical, and the logical are conceived as forms of order. And he subsumes the latter two under the aesthetic. Thus, when he talks about the nature of evil, he is talking about the loss of a specific kind of order (moral order), a subset of aesthetic order.

If morality is a form of order, is evil then to be conceived as chaos? His answer is, "No." He rejects pure chaos. "The immanence of God gives reason for the belief that pure chaos is intrinsically impossible." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 111) In an open universe where creative events can take place, some chaos is required. "Thus chaos is not to be identified with evil; for harmony requires the due coordination of chaos, vagueness, narrowness, and width." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 112)

What then is evil? How is it to be understood? The terms, degradation, destruction, internal inconsistency, suffering, loss, and obstruction are used by Whitehead in characterizing evil. He comments in Religion in the Making, "The fact of evil, interwoven with the texture of the world, shows that in the nature of things there remains effectiveness for degradation. . . .the loss of the greater reality." (Religion in the Making, Cleveland: Meridian Books, 1960, 17) In Adventures of Ideas he says, "Qualifications have to be introduced, though they leave unshaken the fundamental position that ‘destruction as a dominant fact in the experience’ is the correct definition of evil." (Adventures of Ideas, New York: The Free Press, 1967, 259)

Why does evil occur? Whitehead’s answer is, "The categories governing the determination of things are the reasons why there should be evil; and are also the reasons why, in the advance of the world, particular evil facts are finally transcended." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 223) He explains how these categories govern the process of the concrescence of the actual occasion. The perfection of the subjective aim of an actual occasion is "the absence from it of component feelings which mutually inhibit each other. . . ." (Adventures of Ideas, New York: The Free Press, 1967, 256) One form of inhibition, complete inhibition, is finiteness and does not derogate from perfection. The other form of inhibition "involves the true active presence of both component feelings. In this case there is a third feeling of mutual destructiveness. . . .This is the feeling of evil in the most general sense, namely physical pain or mental evil, such as sorrow, horror, dislike." (Adventures of Ideas, New York: The Free Press, 1967, 256) Note that this third feeling is a positive force that is destructive. Julius Bixler says, "It is not enough to say that evil is negative or privative. Evil is a brute motive force on its own account. It is positive and destructive, where good is positive and creative."5 This correctly expresses Whitehead’s position. He says, "Evil is positive and destructive; what is good is positive and creative." (Religion in the Making, Cleveland: Meridian Books, 1960, 93)

So, in the Whiteheadian cosmology, evil is the feeling of destructiveness in experience which has its roots in the very nature of things. The incompatibility of prehensions (the feelings) of the actual occasion gives rise to the feeling of destructiveness. This feeling of destructiveness is a definite concrete reality in the world and is a part of the very nature of things.

The idea that the world was created good and then that evil intruded as an alien element creates "the problem of evil." The problem cannot be solved from this point of view because to explain the presence of evil, one must use the same metaphysical principles that one uses to explain the good. Whitehead made the same point in reference to God when he asserted that God cannot be made a exception to metaphysical principles — so neither can evil. And in Whiteheadian thought, it is not. There evil is the feeling of destructiveness in the actual occasion.

Another part of the problem of evil is expressed by Nickles in J.B.: "If God is God He is not good." Well, is God, God? Philosophers have asked, Is God omnipotent? Whitehead attacks the belief in the "unqualified omnipotence" of God because it would make God responsible "for every detail of every happening." (Adventures of Ideas, New York: The Free Press, 1967, 169) He also rejects the conception of God as "the one supreme reality, omnipotently disposing a wholly derivative world." (Adventures of Ideas, New York: The Free Press, 1967, 166) William Christian notes that ". . .the real target of this criticism is the view that God is omnificent, that all effective agency in the universe is to be ascribed to God."6 It is precisely this aspect of the omnipotence of God that is crucial to the problem of evil. Hence we must deal with the nature of God and God’s relation to the universe together in relation to the problem of evil.

Professor Hartshorne has reinterpreted the omnipotence of God from a Whiteheadian perspective in such a way as to shed light on the problem of evil. He argues that God ". . .is not ‘omnipotent’ in the Thomistic sense, as the power effectively to choose that any possible world, no matter which, shall be actual"7 The reason that God does not have this power is that each actual occasion is a creative entity which, within limits, determines itself. Hence there is a vast multiplicity of entities which make concrete particular events. Hartshorne says, ". . .omnipotence paralyzes thinking. We are what we are, not simply because divine power has decided or done this or that, but because countless non-divine creatures (including our own past selves) have decided what they have decided."8 The title of one of Hartshorne’s books clearly expresses his view, Omnipotence and Other Theological Mistakes.9

Or to quote God — I mean, George Burns, responding to the charge,

"Then God doesn’t care."

"I care. I care plenty. But what can I do?"

"But you’re God!"

"Only for The Big Picture."

"What?"

"I don’t get into details."10

Nickles also states the other side of the dilemma of the problem of evil, "If God is good, he is not God." So we are faced with the question, "Is God good?" The question sounds absurd because we would quickly respond, "Of course He is!"

One is startled then to read in Christian’s book: ". . .on Whitehead’s theory God is certainly not morally good, judged by those standards of behavior that are necessary for the peace and prosperity of human community. The question is whether these standards properly apply to his nature, and whether it is reasonable to judge God by them."11 Christian later argues that these moral standards are not applicable; hence he concludes that God is not morally good. More fully stated, he concludes that God is neither morally good nor evil.

But first, let us see how Christian understands God’s involvement with evil. He argues that God is involved both in the production and the preservation of evil experiences. God envisages all pure possibilities with appetition for their realization. "It seems therefore that his appetition includes those forms of definiteness which in the course of history characterize evil experiences and decisions and deeds."12 So God shares in the production of these experiences.

Also God prehends and values all the feelings of actual occasions including the morally evil ones. So Christian writes, "It seems therefore that God has a share in the preservation as well as the production of evil experiences and decisions."13

On the basis of these arguments Christian says that God is not morally good. But then Christian gets out of this position by arguing that evil is the exclusion of some of the initial datum of an actual occasion. And God does not exclude any datum. Hence God is not faced with human moral decisions of what to exclude.

But this solution does not solve the difficulty, because it is not proper to characterize human immoral actions as human finiteness. Christian quoted Whitehead, "The nature of evil is that the characters of things are mutually obstructive." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 340)14 But things are mutually obstructive because man is finite and incapable of incorporating all the data of the past with maximum intensity. God can do this but man cannot. Whitehead refers to this inability of actual occasions as "evil." But Christian misunderstands when he takes this to be moral evil. This confusion arises because Whitehead uses the term, "evil," to refer both to aesthetic evil and moral evil without distinguishing between them.

Whitehead’s interpreters must determine which type of evil he is referring to in each passage being interpreted. On the same page with the above statement, Whitehead also refers to the ultimate tragic element in the temporal world as evil. He says, "The ultimate evil in the temporal world is. . . .that the past fades, that time is ‘perpetual perishing."’ (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 340) This ultimate evil is not moral failure but the aesthetic loss of immediacy. The feeling of this loss is great, and the desire for immortality stems from this sense of loss. So when the loss is called an aesthetic loss or an aesthetic evil, one does not discount the significance of the event.

But man’s immorality does not result from the fact that he must make some choices and not others (a condition of his finiteness). Nor does it result from the fact that his present is a process of vivid prehension and that the present once completed does not endure but perpetually perishes subjectively. Man is also not immoral because he chooses the lesser over the greater. Being dull, monotonous, and drab is certainly aesthetic failure, but it is not moral failure.

The point is that Christian’s proposition that morality does not apply to God does not follow from his argument. So back to the original question: Is God good?

Whitehead’s view that reality is composed of many creative entities, each of which involves in differing degrees the freedom to prehend in its (partial) self-creation, illuminates the problem of evil. The universe is filled with a multiplicity of agents making decisions. Responsibility is therefore a universal characteristic of all entities (though again in differing degrees). Hence part of Whitehead’s solution to the problem of evil is to attribute many evils to the inevitable conflicts between many agents of action.

Hartshorne’s discussion of the problem of evil follows this line of thought. "The root of evil, suffering, misfortune, wickedness, is the same as the root of all good, joy, happiness, and that is freedom, decision making."15 But the solution to the problem of evil cannot simply lie in human freedom because there is so much suffering not caused by humans. The only solution to the problem of evil "worth writing home about" is one in which human freedom is not only affirmed but is also "a special, intensified, magnified form of a general principle pervasive of reality, down to the very atoms and still farther."16 The result of such a principle is inevitable conflict and frustration as multiple agents decide things every moment.

This general principle of the freedom of all actualies needs to be augmented by principles ascribing all actuality to God. Hartshorne says, "The problem is how a genuine division of power, hence of responsibility for good and evil. . . .can be reconciled with the ascription of all the wealth of actuality to God. To do this we must have general metaphysical principles whereby actualities can be contained in other actualities yet retain their own self-decisions."17

Hartshorne argues that Whiteheadian principles provide a comprehensive metaphysical system that does that. This is an achievement of historic proportions. No philosopher prior to Whitehead provided a metaphysical system that could both affirm the freedom of the entities in the world and also attribute all the wealth of actuality to God. Without such a metaphysical system the problem of evil is unsolvable.

Hartshorne recognizes the theological implications of this metaphysical system. The most important implication is the necessity to re-interpret the omnipotence of God. Classical theology has ascribed the power to determine all things to God. The difficulty with this position is that consistency demanded that you must also say that God determined evil — a position classical theology denied. So we must reinterpret the classical understanding of the omnipotence of God. God can not be the only source of decision-making. While none surpasses God, the conception of the perfection of God’s power should not be interpreted to mean that God has all power and that all other entities are powerless. Rather while God’s power is unsurpassable by any other, others do have power to be casual agents.

If one rejects classical omnipotence, then God is not 0mm-responsible for the evils in the world. Then John Hick’s solution is incorrect: "We have. . . .found it to be an inescapable conclusion that the ultimate responsibility for the existence of sinful creatures and of the evils which they cause and suffer, rests upon God himself."18 Hick has characterized this as an Irenaean type of theodicy which "accepts God’s ultimate omni-responsibility and seeks to show for what good and justifying reason He has created a universe in which evil was inevitable."19

Hick lacks a metaphysic that recognizes the partial self-creativity of all creatures and hence responsibility. But his attempt does suggest an important avenue.

I believe that we can illuminate the problem of evil not only by recognizing that there are other creative agents of action (a reinterpretation of the omnipotence of God) but also by recognizing that destructiveness is an essential part of creativity (a reinterpretation of the goodness of God). In as much as creativity is a part of the nature of God as any other entity — since God is the supreme example of creativity — we need to re-interpret the goodness of God.

Whitehead’s consideration of evil is much broader than an apologist’s defense of God. Indeed Whitehead says that the function of God as the source of the initial aim of each actual entity ". . .is analogous to the remorseless working of things in Greek and in Buddhist thought. The initial aim is the best for that impasse. But if the best be bad, then the ruthlessness of god can be personified as Ate, the goddess of mischief. The chaff is burnt. What is inexorable in God, is valuation as an aim towards ‘order’;. . . ."(Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 244)

By referring to the "ruthlessness of god," "the god of mischief," and "if the best be bad," Whitehead is not attributing moral evil to God. But God, as the source of the initial aim of each entity, provides the best aim possible for an aesthetic synthesis of its past and its present possibilities. Actual entities in the world are far from perfect, and their present and immediate future prospects may leave much to be desired hence "the best for that impasse" may not be great; indeed, it may be chaff and it may get burnt. The ruthlessness here is not moral, but aesthetic. The best portrayal of a poorly developed character may result in poor reviews for the actor even though the problem is not with the actor. In life as in poker one must play the hand that one is dealt.

One can whimper that life is not fair. However, that is how things are: life is not fair; theology that expects God to make life fair is unrealistic. Any attribution of the moral category of fairness to the universe is simply misplaced.

The fundamental category for understanding the universe is aesthetic valuation toward order; the richness of creativity will sometimes produce aberrations as well as serendipitous outcomes. Chance and surprise, life and death, feeling and sympathy, interest and originality, harmony and discord, and progress and order are more basic categories in understanding the nature of the universe than a similar list of moral categories. Of course, moral categories are real forms of order in the universe, and as part of valuation, moral valuation has a basis in the fundamental nature of things. But aesthetic valuation is a more basic to the nature of the universe than moral valuation.

We must neither interpret the goodness of God to mean that life will be fair nor that the innocent will not suffer nor that calamitous events will not occur. These things happen, and they happen because of the conflicts involved in a multitude of decisions being made by a multitude of decision makers (human and non-human). They also occur because God’s initial aim is not fundamentally a moral aim but an aesthetic aim.

Whitehead notes that living societies require food which they obtain by destroying other societies. The society which survives may be either a lower or higher organism than which it feasts upon. Regardless of the case, the same observation follows: ". . .life is robbery. It is at this point that with life morals become acute. The robber requires justification." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 105) Vegetarians have sensed this violence and destruction and have responded by refusing to eat meat. But their protest, while notable, only allows them to escape the destruction of some of the higher organisms. It does not allow them to escape the destruction of all organisms. It remains the case that their lives (as is true of all life) depend upon robbery. Sensitive people seek justification for this destruction and robbery. Visions of paradise include the lamb lying down with the lion. But life is not that way. And that is not nature’s failure. Life depends upon the destruction of other life. Destruction lies in the nature of process. Birth and death are not intrusions; they are essential parts of process.

The clash of different prehensions of the actual occasions cause destructiveness and discordant feelings. Destructiveness, then, is in the very nature of things. Hence the goodness of God includes destructiveness. Destructiveness is neither a threat to God nor to the universe. Even people must have destructiveness in order to prevent the monotony of sameness and the withering of inspiration. It is immature to think that elimination of destruction is a desirable goal. The creative process requires it.

Zoroastrianism corrupted Hebrew thought by arguing that evil comes from another God. Thus we learned that evil is "the other" and concluded that it must be rejected and destroyed. How many wars have been fought to eradicate evil! We must learn not to make evil "the other" and forsake trying to destroy it.

Moral advancement depends upon rejecting the notion that evil is "the other." The comic strip character, Pogo, stated the theological truth: "We have met the enemy and he is us!" But even Pogo dared not state the consequential heresy. If the enemy is us and if we reflect the metaphysical principles of the universe (and we must), and if the metaphysical principles apply to God (and Whitehead has said that they do), then ergo, destructiveness is a part of God.

This is not to say that God is morally evil but that in providing aims based on the given, God’s involvement with the world produces neither an aesthetically perfect world nor a morally perfect world. And even if the past is preserved in God’s consequent nature, nonetheless, the present world in both its good aspects, which we would like to keep, and its bad aspects, which we would like to eliminate, disappear into the past. Actualization means perishing.20 "Completion is the perishing of immediacy: ‘It never really is.’ (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 85) The creative process entails the destruction of the past/present in the creation of the future. And the partial self-creation of creatures depends upon their decision and not God’s. Hence the future is open with regard to the moral decisions of those creatures capable of such judgements.

Destruction cannot disappear from any conceivable world in which creativity is fundamental. A world without destruction would be a static world without change, without decision making, without life. Plato’s world of forms can only be an abstraction. Heaven without freedom is self-refuting. And heaven without destruction would be a place without free creatures making choices.

We must not reject destructiveness (because it is part of our nature and we must be ourselves before God — so Soren Kierkegaard). Rather we must accept destruction (because we must accept ourselves) and we must use our destructiveness (as God does) as a force in the creative advancement of the world.

Whitehead’s discussion of society in the Adventures of Ideas makes it plain that there is a value to discordant feelings. He says, "Progress is founded upon the experience of discordant feeling." (Adventures of Ideas, New York: The Free Press, 1967, 257) These discordant feelings, in themselves destructive and evil, make a contribution by producing "the positive feeling of a quick shift of aim from the tameness of outworn perfection to some other ideal with its freshness still upon it." (Adventures of Ideas, New York: The Free Press, 1967, 257) To paraphrase another of Whitehead’s statements, one concludes it is more important that something be interesting than that it be good.

Whitehead’s solution to dealing with (aesthetic) evil (disharmony) is the introduction of a third system of prehensions which heightens Beauty and heightens Evil into a greater harmony. (Adventures of Ideas, New York: The Free Press, 1967, 259-264) So Whitehead understands that at least aesthetic evil is not to be eliminated. Hartshorne agrees, ". . .to rule is to keep anarchy in its proper subordinate place, not to get rid of it."21

To return to the original question, "Is God good?" The answer is, "Yes, God is morally good but his goodness does not entail being without destructiveness." An inadequate metaphysic is the basis of the view that God’s goodness entails the absence of destructiveness.

The metaphysics upon which Whitehead builds his view of God requires both goodness and destructiveness, and demands a creative, adventurous God. Fredrick Sontag, viewing the issue from a purely theological perspective, agrees, "This tendency to destruction must be a very strong side of God’s nature too."22 He adds, "The flaws which lead to man’s downfall must find their source in God’s nature or else go unexplained."23 "A God who is merely pleasant is ruled out, and so is one who intends simply good things."24 "A God capable of handling contingency is more fascinating, but also at times more horrifying."25

An objection might be raised that the God being discussed is not the God of religious worship. The reply would be that God, as the ultimate source of both good and destructiveness, is a Hebraic idea expressed in several books of the Old Testament.

Is a trumpet blown in a city,

and the people are not afraid?

Does evil befall a city, unless the Lord has done it? Amos 3:6 RSV

I form the light and create darkness:

I make peace and create evil:

I the Lord do all these things. Isa. 45:7 KJV

Shall we receive good at the hand of God,

and shall we not receive evil? Job 2:10 RSV

The evil spirit from God came upon Saul. I Sam. 18:10

So a God who is ultimately the source of good and destructiveness is not only metaphysically possible but has been a part of a great religious heritage.

 

NOTES:

1. Archibald MacLeish. J.B., Houghton Mifflin Company, (Boston. 1961), p. 11.

2. David Hume, Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion Hafner Publishing Co., (New York, 1948), p.66.

3. Nelson Pike, ed., God and Evil, Prentice-Hall, (Inglewood Cliffs, New Jersey. 1964), p. 14.

4. Wayne W. Dyer, Your Erroneous Zones, Avon Publishers (New York, 1976), p. 173.

5. Julius S. Bixler, "Whitehead’s Philosophy of Religion," in The Philosophy of Alfred North Whitehead, ed. by Paul A. Schilpp, Open Court, (La Salle, II, 1941), p. 497.

6. William A. Christian, An Interpretation of Whitehead’s Metaphysics, Yale University Press. (New Haven. 1959), p. 388.

7. Charles Hartshorne, Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method, Open Court, (La Salle. Il., 1970), p. 242.

8. Hartshorne, Creative Synthesis. . ., p. 239.

9. Charles Hartshorne, Omnipotence and Other Theological Mistakes, State University of New York, (Albany, 1984).

10. Avery Corman, Oh, God!, Simon & Schuster, (New York, 1971), pp. 10-11.

11. Christian, p. 401.

12. Christian, p. 401.

13. Christian, p. 401.

14. Christian, p. 401.

15. Hartshorne, Omnipotence. . . p. 18.

16. Hartshorne, Omnipotence. . . p. 13.

17. Charles Hartshorne, "Whitehead’s Idea of God" in Whitehead’s Philosophy, University of Nebraska Press, (Lincoln, 1972), p. 72.

18. John Hick, Evil and the God of Love, Harper & Row, (New York. 1966), p. 234.

19. Hick, p. 262.

20. Hartshorne disagrees with Whitehead on this point. Hartshorne believes that the word, "perishing," misleadingly indicates a loss that does not occur. Cf. Hartshorne, Creative Synthesis, p.118.

21. Charles Hartshorne, "A New Look at the Problem of Evil." in Current Philosophical Issues: Essays In Honor of Curt John Ducasse, ed. by Frederick C. Dommeyer, Charles C. Thomas Publisher, (Springfield. II., 1966), p. 210.

22. Frederick Sontag, The God of Evil, Harper & Row, (New York. 1970). p. 36.

23. Sontag, p. 130.

24. Sontag, p. 135.

25. Sontag, p. 136.

Chapter 6: A Whiteheadian Concept of the Self

One of the ways that Whitehead’s thought is fundamentally different than that of most of western philosophy is his concept of the self. His view of the self is based on his rejection of the concept of substance. Beginning with Aristotle much of western philosophy may be understood as various attempts to understand reality utilizing the basic concept of substance. Arguments raged as to whether there was one, two, or an infinity of substances; whether substance was essentially mind or matter; etc. But all these arguments presupposed the concept of substance.

Whitehead is clear. He rejects the concept of substance: "The simple notion of an enduring substance sustaining persistent qualities, either essentially or accidentally, expresses a useful abstract for many purposes of life . . . . But in metaphysics the concept is sheer error." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 79) In outlining his view of the nature of real entities he comments, " . . .the notion of an actual entity as the unchanging subject of change is completely abandoned." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 29)

Whitehead’s alternative to substance is what he calls "an actual entity" which is a drop of experience (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 18) or act of experience (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 40) or ". . .a process of ‘feeling’ the many data, so as to absorb them into the unity of one individual ‘satisfaction."’ (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 40) Whitehead’s view of reality is presented in the Introduction of this book and in Chapter Two. But further comments need to be made regarding those characteristics of actual entities that are appropriate to a discussion of the self.

The heart of Whitehead’s alternative (the actual entity) is the internal determination of the subject-to-be of what it is. He says, "The ‘subjective aim,’ which controls the becoming of a subject, is that subject feeling a proposition with the subjective form of purpose to realize it in that process of self-creation." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 23) Any entity is a subject. The old subject/object distinction is redefined to be the relation of the becoming of the entity (subject) and the subject, having become, is then data for other subjects (object). Each entity then is a subject becoming itself and in that process the becoming subject has some control over what it becomes.

This process is a process of self-creation. In many different places in Process and Reality Whitehead points out the self-creative aspect of the subject. The actual entity is a self-creating creature. (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 85) He says, "An actual entity feels as it does feel in order to be the actual entity which it is. . . . The creativity is not an external agency with its own ulterior purposes." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 222) Rather ". . . .the subject is at work in the feeling, in order that it may be the subject with that feeling. The feeling is an episode in self-production. . . ." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 224) Whitehead also writes, "The subject completes itself during the process of concrescence by a self-criticism of its own incomplete phases." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 244) It is important to note that while this discussion sounds like he is talking about people, Whitehead is talking about the fundamental units of reality. He believes that the fundamental units of reality are subjects which are partially self-creative. They, of course, are not conscious but do have mental aspects.

But is it possible that anything can be self-created? It is interesting to note that traditional Western thought asserted that God was self-caused. Whitehead gives this attribute to every entity in the universe when he says, ". . .the subject of the feeling is causa sui." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 221)

If self-causation or self-creation is an attribute of everything, how does it occur? As Whitehead discusses the process of a thing coming into being, he says, ". . .the actual entity, in a state of process during which it is not fully definite, determines its own ultimate definiteness. This is the whole point of moral responsibility." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 255)

So things in the universe, as they move from indefinite possibilities to definite actuality, have the power to determine (to some degree) that definiteness. The extent of this power varies with the entity. At each moment each person may make a conscious decision to actualize some possibility that lies before them. The possibility of reading a book is made definite and is actualized by the person actually (pun intended) reading the book. This is one instance, on a highly complex level, of a basic principle in the nature of things. The introduction of novelty into the world by making potentialities actual is an accurate analysis of the basic nature of all reality.

One of the most significant consequences of Whitehead’s rejection of the concept of substance was that this rejection entails the rejection of the concept of the soul. Traditionally the concept of the soul is expressed both in the Greek version that the soul is an eternal substance and in the version (derived from a Christian theology based on Aristotle) that the soul is a created substance that endures unchanged through time. Whitehead says, "The doctrine of the enduring soul with its permanent characteristics is exactly the irrelevant answer to the problem which life presents. The problem is, How can there be originality?" (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 104) David Hume attacked the idea of the unchanging self, but because he saw no alternative, concluded that the self is only a series of momentary perceptions. This view led him into skepticism.

Whitehead offers an alternative view of the self which is based on his view of the nature of reality. If the units of reality are changing, self-determined and creative, then it is no surprise that these characteristics also apply to the self. Indeed the justification for believing that these characteristics exist in the self lies in understanding them not as new aspects introduced by complexity but as fundamental aspects of the nature of reality.

First we will examine Whitehead’s understanding of the self in the context of his system. Then we will note how self-respect, novelty and responsibility are grounded in this view of the self.

How is the self understood in Whitehead’s scheme of actual entities, nexus (plural of nexus) and societies? To clarify this issue it will be helpful to note how Whitehead understands the whole person (man as a living organism). The problem of the nature of the self is not the same as the problem of understanding the whole person (man as a living organism) in Whitehead’s scheme. The major consideration must be the nature of the self, but briefly we understand the whole person in the following way.

Man, the living organism, is a structured society which includes subordinate societies and nexus with a definite pattern of structural interrelations. The difference between a subordinate society and a subordinate nexus is that the subordinate society is a group of occasions which can retain its ". . .dominant features of its defining characteristic in the general environment, apart from the structured society." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 99) A molecule in a cell is a subordinate society because it will maintain its general molecular features outside the cell. Subordinate nexus which cannot sustain themselves apart from the structured society are simply called nexus.

Whitehead gives an example of such a nexus the living occasions which compose the ‘empty’ space within the cell. (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 99) He says, ". . .in abstraction from its animal body an ‘entirely living’ nexus is not properly a society at all, since ‘life’ cannot be a defining characteristic." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 104) The self is such an "entirely living nexus."

The conclusion of the argument would be that the self cannot survive apart from its structured society; hence the immortality of the self must include the immortality of that structured society. But our interest is in understanding what the self as an "entirely living nexus" means.

In setting forth this metaphysics in Process and Reality, Whitehead presents his categorical scheme and then turns to some derivative notions which include ‘social order’ and ‘personal order.’ He defines society as "a nexus with social order." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 34) A nexus enjoys social order if three conditions are fulfilled: (1) there is a common element of form which is its defining characteristic, (2) the reproduction of form is due to genetic relations and (3) the genetic relations include feelings of the common form. (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 34) An example of a society is an ordinary physical object which endures through time.

Then Whitehead defines an enduring object as "a society whose social order has taken on the special form of ‘personal order’." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 34) A nexus enjoys ‘personal order’ if two conditions are fulfilled: (1) it is a ‘society’ and (2) the genetic relatedness of its members orders these members ‘serially.’ By ‘serially’ he means that the nexus forms a single line of inheritance of its defining characteristic. It thus "sustains a character" which is one meaning of the Latin word, persona; hence it has ‘personal order.’ There is no suggestion here of consciousness. Whitehead gives as an example of an enduring object that which forms "the subject matter of the science of dynamics." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 35)

A still more complex nexus is called a ‘corpuscular society.’ Two conditions are required for a ‘corpuscular society:’ (1) it enjoys a social order and (2) it is analyzable into strands of enduring objects. Whitehead says, "A society may be more or less corpuscular, according to the relative importance of the defining characteristics of the various enduring objects compared to that of the defining characteristic of the whole corpuscular nexus." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 35) This discussion is very important to Whitehead’s concept of man because in a later discussion he denies that the inorganic occasions of the human body form a corpuscular society. Attention will be given to this below.

Inorganic nexus which do not depend upon a whole ‘living’ society for survival are called ‘societies.’ The lowest grade of structured societies are material bodies such as chemicals. A higher grade of structured societies are ‘living societies’ and these have some nexus whose mental poles have original reactions and some nexus which are inorganic. Nexus whose mental poles have original reactions are called ‘entirely living’ nexus. (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 101-105) The self is the highest or regnant ‘entirely living’ nexus in the human body.

The self or human personality is the most highly complex unity of the human body. It is particularly noted for the extent of its originality in response to the world around it. Originality is derived from the category of reversion in the process of concretion. It is also characterized by its initiative which is derived from the category of transmutation. The initiative in conceptual prehensions of the self amounts to thinking. (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 102)

Whitehead rejects the idea that the single living cell has ". . .a single unified mentality, guided in each of its occasions by inheritance from its own past." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 104) The result would be determinism. The problem is not the need to explain continuity but the need to explain originality in the response of the cell to external stimulus. On the more complex level of the human body, Whitehead says that the concept of the enduring soul with its permanent characteristics is not helpful in explaining the problem of how there can be originality.

Originality (and hence life) occurs ". . .when the subjective aim which determines its process of concrescence has introduced a novelty of definiteness not to be found in the inherited data of its primary phase." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 104) The originality prevents us then from holding that in abstraction from its animal body an ‘entirely living’ nexus is a society. The living occasions abstracted from the inorganic occasions of the human body do not ". . .form a corpuscular sub-society, so that each living occasion is a member of an enduring entity with its personal order." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 104) In short, the self which is the ‘entirely living’ nexus of the human body is not an enduring entity; i.e., it is not a soul. But it is a living nexus which supports ". . .a thread of personal order along some historical route of its members." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 107) Whitehead has abandoned the notion of the ". . . actual entity as the unchanging subject of change. . . ." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 29) Neither is the Whiteheadian self an unchanging subject of change. Rather the self, like the actual entity, is a self-creating creature which is guided by its ideal of itself as individual satisfaction and as transcendent creator.

In the above attempt to understand the self in the metaphysical scheme, categories and derivative notions which basically apply to actual entities are utilized because the self is an entirely living nexus of actual entities. Aspects of originality and initiative are important. Also much that Whitehead says about creativity is relevant not only to the actual entity but also to the self. He says, "The world is self-creative; and the actual entity as self-creating creature passes into its immortal function of part-creator of the transcendent world. In its self-creation the actual entity is guided by its ideal of itself as individual satisfaction and as transcendent creator." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 85) This last sentence is as characteristic of the self as it is of the actual entity.

Two other aspects of Whitehead’s discussion of the actual entity are of great importance to an understanding of the self. They are the relation of the data of the past to the present and the subjective aim.

Two extreme positions are taken concerning the data of the past to the self. Determinists argue that the past determines the present such that the present is merely a working out of what was previously programmed.

Jean Paul Sartre, on the other hand, had what Wilfrid Dean calls ". . .the most extreme form of freedom the history of philosophy has ever presented."1 Sartre uses the example of a retired Napoleonic soldier who refuses to join the government of Louis XVIII but rather hopes for the return of the Emperor. Sartre says that the soldier’s past "does not in any way act deterministically; but once the past ‘soldier of the Empire’ has been chosen, then the conduct of the for-itself realizes this past."2 "We choose our past in the light of a certain end, but from then on it imposes itself upon us and devours us."3 What Sartre’ s account lacks is recognition that our past actions produce tendencies for present choices. The past has a vector character, an impetus, an influence.

It is true that the for-itself (the self) determines the meaning of the past. The old soldier decides that the meaning of the past is that he should hope for the return of the Emperor rather than join the present government. Sartre points out that the old soldier chose this meaning for the past, and that he could have chosen to give a different meaning to the past and therefore making a radical break with it. Since the for-itself determines the meaning of the past, it is completely free from the determining influence of the past. "This past itself is a free choice of the future."4 But the metaphysics of a for-itself (the self) which is "nothingness" and an in-itself (the world) which is "being" cannot account for the impact of the past on the present. It cannot account for the influence that a long history of acting a particular way has on an individual. The old soldier has lived those battles and, having lived them, they have an impact on the present self. In Whiteheadian thought the past is included (negatively or positively) in the present. Sartre’s account is one-sided. While it stresses the experience of man’s freedom of choice (and such experiences each of us has), it fails to take account that the person lived the past with the result that what he is at present and what he chooses to be in the future is influenced by his past.

Whitehead says that the macroscopic meaning of the philosophy of organism, ". . .is concerned with the giveness of the actual world, considered as the stubborn fact which at once limits and provides opportunity for the actual occasion. . . We essentially arise out of our bodies which are the stubborn facts of the immediate relevant past. We are also carried on by our immediate past of personal experiences; we finish a sentence because we have begun it. . . . We are governed by stubborn fact." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 129) So Whitehead argues that the past limits (contra Sartre) and also provides opportunity (contra the determinists) in the creative concrescence of the actual entity.

The past limits in that the actual entity prehends all past actual entities. "An actual entity has a perfectly definite bond with each item in the universe." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 41) Events in the past have varied in importance. Some have great importance and others lesser importance.

If the rearranging of the elements of the past were all that was involved in the formation of the actual entity, determinism would result. But other aspects are also involved. How the elements of the past are prehended is the locus of novelty. Whitehead says, "The subjective form is the immediate novelty; it is how that subject is feeling that objective datum." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 232) Actual entities prehend eternal objects, which are the pure potentials of the universe. These pure potentials are necessary for a contingent, actual world. "Apart from ‘potentiality’ and ‘giveness’ there can be no nexus of actual things in process of supersession by novel actual things. The alternative is a static monistic universe, without unrealized potentialities." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 45-46)

In Whitehead’s theory of objectification, ". . .the actual particular occasions become original elements for a new creation. . . .((by)) an operation of mutually adjusted abstraction, or elimination, whereby the many occasions of the actual world become one complex datum." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 210) The past provides the elements for the present actual self but these elements are adjusted as they become a part of the present self. Whitehead says, "Also in the creative advance, the nexus proper to an antecedent actual world is not destroyed. It is reproduced and added to, by the new bonds of feeling with the novel actualities which transcend it and include it." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 238) So the present self includes the past self but transcends it because as a part of the creative advance, the present self is a novel self.

Though one of the cardinal features of Sartre’s philosophy is the responsibility of the individual, the responsibility he discusses only has to do with the present and the future. Why would one hold a for-itself responsible for an act of the past which is the in-itself? Since the for-itself can give any value to the past, if it condemns and rejects the past, why should it be held responsible for it, even if it is the immediate past, e.g., yesterday’s action or what I did an hour ago?

Sartre’s philosophy would leave us without reason to hold a for-itself responsible for past actions if it rejected the past. And the essentialists would have us punish the soul throughout eternity because of its responsibility for its past actions. Neither philosophy seems adequate to deal with our observed experiences of life. Whitehead’s scheme of an on-going creative process prehending elements of the past and concrescing them into a novel, present unity gives reason to hold a person responsible; it also gives reasons to recognize that a person may choose to prehend aspects of the past in a different way with the result that though the past is not destroyed, yet some aspects have little significance or value for the present self. In such a scheme a person can understand the responsibility he presently bears for his past actions. He can realize that his past is a part of himself, and he can also understand that past actions which have been negative may now be utilized as he creatively becomes himself.

One may conceive the place of God in the constitution of the self in at least three ways. Sartre discusses two of these ways when he compares Leibniz’s view of the actions of Adam taking the apple with his own view of Adam’s action. In Leibniz’s view, according to Sartre, the essence of Adam has been given by God. Adam’s action depends upon himself and not others; hence he is free in that there is not external hindrance. But the action is dependent on Adam’s essence. And Sartre says, "Adam’s essence is for Adam himself a given; Adam has not chosen it; he could not choose to be Adam. Consequently, he does not support the responsibility for his being. Hence once he himself has been given, it is of little importance that one can attribute to him the relative responsibility for his act."5 Sartre proposes an alternative view. "Adam is not defined by an essence since for human reality essence comes after existence."6 Since Sartre shares with Leibniz the view of the relation that God would have if there was a God, Sartre says that God does not exist. If God did exist man would not be free. Sartre says, "Two solutions and only two are possible: either man is wholly determined. . . .or else man is wholly free."7 Sartre acknowledges that ". . .freedom requires a given"8 and that the for-itself is not "its own foundation"9 and that there is freedom only in a situation and that ". . .human reality everywhere encounters resistence and obstacles which it had not created."10 But the for-itself cannot really be related to the rest of the universe since it is nothingness.

In these two views, God is either so closely related to the self that man’s freedom is denied, or God is not at all related to the self with the result that the self is not related to the rest of the universe. Whitehead’s concept of God and of God’s relation to the self permits man to be free and yet relates him to the rest of the universe. Whitehead says, "Each temporal entity. . . .derives from God its basic conceptual aim, relevant to its actual world, yet with indeterminations awaiting its own decisions. This subjective aim, in its successive modifications, remains the unifying factor governing the successive phases of inter-play between physical and conceptual feelings. These decisions are impossible for the nascent creature antecedently to the novelties in the phases of its concrescence." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 224)

So God is the source of the subjective aim which is the initial direction taken by the concrescing subject in the process that constitutes that novel being. But God does not create the subject. Rather he is the source of the ". . .initial aim from which its self-causation starts." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 244) God is the source of a directed impetus, but the impetus achieves a unity under its own evaluations of the given and the possible.

The self then can be conceived as free because it is constituted by creative responses to its environment. But it can be understood as a part of a universe in which each actual entity is a creative process. The unity in such a universe is provided by God who is the source of the subjective aims which, when actualized, provide the maximum intensity of satisfaction.

The self is a creative concrescence of the past and the potential, and its relation to God and the rest of the universe is a novel adventure. What are the implications of such a view of the self for the concepts of self-respect, novelty and responsibility?

The claim that we should respect persons may be based on religious views, i.e., one should have respect of persons because they are children of God. Respect may be based on political demands, i.e., respect of persons is a necessary prerequisite for democracy. Or, respect may be based on philosophical grounds. Traditionally, respect of persons has been based on the idea that people are souls. According to some traditions a soul is eternal, that is, it has always existed and will always exist. According to other traditions the soul was created by God and will continue to exist forever. In either case the person is identified with the soul.

Respect for persons can be more adequately based on the philosophical insight that people are self-creating entities. The point is not that people are just creative, i.e., they create art, drama, business, etc. Rather the fundamental point is that people actively participate in their own creation. Respect can be based on this self-creativity.

To understand the concept of respect of persons, one should seek to understand the context in which the concept is operative. Respect of persons is weak when it stands isolated from a philosophical justification of respect of all things. Can respect for persons be understood as a part of respect for things in general? And if so, what is the basis for respect of things in general? In Whitehead’s metaphysical system not only are people self-creative, but so are all entities in the universe. It is in the nature of things to be self-creative because according to Whitehead, creativity is the ultimate principle. (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 21)

Hence respect is based on the acknowledgment of the self-creative activity of everything in the universe. This view provides a basis for our respect of nature. Nature is a complex process of self-creative entities. Our respect for these self-creative creatures is one reason why we accept the ecological responsibility of not turning our planet into a garbage dump of radioactive wastes. We respect plant and animal life because we recognize they too are self-creative entities. We have a responsibility to preserve living species of plants and animals. We base this respect upon a recognition of the inherent value of these things.

We often justify protecting existing species of plants or animals by arguing for the value, present or future, of these plants or animals for man. But even if one could show that a plant or animal species had no value to us, we still would want to preserve it. "Value for mankind" justifications are not adequate.

That all things are to be respected does not mean that all things are equally valuable. We may have to choose between what will be destroyed and what will be preserved in a specific instance. Shall we plow up the prairie to plant corn in order to feed people? What criteria shall we use? The hierarchy of our choices reflects the creativity of the creature. In Whitehead’s system although all entities are self-creative, the level of creativity differs greatly. And it is on the basis of the level of creativity (actual or potential) that we make value judgements. For example, we study, train, and admire the dolphin. And in doing so we feed him a lot of fish. We would object to killing dolphins and grinding them up for fish food on the basis that the higher self-creative entities were being destroyed for the benefit of the lower.

If respect can be understood as recognition of creativity of entities, we have a philosophical foundation for the justification of respect of persons.

How can novelty be a part of the self? Creativity produces novelty. Each thing actualized in the universe is itself a creative advance into novelty according to Whitehead.

How does novelty occur? Novelty arises, interestingly enough, through a negative element. As long as a feature of the immediate past is positively included, there is repetition and therefore sameness. But when a feature is felt negatively (related to in a negative way or is non-conformed) (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 187) or when the imagination conceives of other possible alternatives, the possibility of novelty arises. So when things "don’t fit," "won’t work," "are inconsistent," or when you need something different or want something new — these negatives introduce the possibility of novelty.

The introduction of one of these non-conforming relationships results in alternatives. "A novelty has emerged into creation. The novelty may promote or destroy order; it may be good or bad. But it is new, a new type of individual, and not merely a new intensity of individual feeling." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 187) Whitehead adds, "Error is the price which we pay for progress." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 187)

Novelty is the result of self-causation. It is not an external agency with its own purpose. Novelty is the result of an inherent element. "An actual entity feels as it does feel in order to be the actual entity which it is. . . .All actual entities share with God this characteristic of self-causation. . . .The universe is thus a creative advance into novelty." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 222) So, novelty results from the self-causation of the individual.

Any adequate concept of the self must enable a person to understand the experience of feeling responsible and of attributing responsibility to persons. In Whiteheadian thought, responsibility is not a dubious characteristic of the highest of all organisms. Rather human responsibility has its basis in the very nature of reality of all entities. In outlining his categorical scheme Whitehead adds a ninth Categorical Obligation. It states, "The concrescence of each individual actual entity is internally determined and is externally free." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 46) This internal determination of all entities entails understanding responsibility in a much broader sense than it is typically understood. Internal determination means that freedom and responsibility permeate the universe.

Regarding human beings he says, ". . .the final decision of the immediate subject-superject, constituting the ultimate modification of subjective aim, is the foundation of our experience of responsibility" (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 47) Although the subjective aim is initiated from an external source, the concrescing subject has the ability to modify that aim; the modification of that aim is the modification of what that subject becomes. Consequently the subject is not just responsible for what it does, but it is responsible in a more basic sense. It is responsible for what it is. Whitehead says, "The subject is responsible for being what it is in virtue of its feelings. It is also derivatively responsible for the consequences of its existence because they flow from its feelings." (Process and Reality, Corrected Edition, ed. Griffin & Sherburne, New York: The Free Press, 1978, 222)

With a Whiteheadian view of the self, one can give an appropriate explanation of the responsibility of the individual. Moral responsibility is then a part of a broader sense of responsibility based on creative action. Thus human creative action is a part of the creative action of the universe.

 

NOTES:

1. Wilfrid Dean, The Tragic Finale, (Harper and Row, New York, 1954). p. 160.

2. Jean Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingness, (Citadel Press, New York, 1965). p. 478.

3. Sartre, p. 479.

4. Sartre, p. 478.

5. Sartre, p. 444.

6. Sartre, p. 444.

7. Sartre, p. 418.

8. Sartre, p. 457.

9. Sartre, p. 460.

10. Sartre, p. 465.