Theology for the Masses

It is difficult for Western Christians to conceive the Spirit as person and not merely a force or energy. Persons generally at least have names, gender, and emotion, after all. On a one level, the Spirit seems to have none of these. The problem is exacerbated when we read Augustine and he speaks of the Spirit as the “bond of love between the Father and the Son.” It is not so much that Augustine is wrong here, but by describing the Spirit this manner robs the Spirit of personhood in favor of function. Influential as Augustine is in Western Christianity, this depersonalization has ravaged our pneumatology.

Though there are many things that make up personhood. In the next few posts I wish to engage the name, the gender, and the emotions of the Spirit. The goal is to begin building a more complete and functional understanding of the Spirits nature as a person.

To an ancient Jew a person’s name provided information concerning the person’s character. To know someone’s name, was to know who they are and what they’re about. It was more than just information used to catalogue someone in their mind as differentiated from another person. A person’s name was identical to the person.

The difficulty with understanding the Spirit as a person is that Spirit isn’t exactly a name. The Father’s name is Yahweh, the Son’s name is Jesus, but the Spirit seems to lack a name. And without this identifier we are stuck with thinking of the Spirit, not as a person, but an impersonal force. This misconception simply won’t do. In order to move past it, we need to understand that the Spirit does, indeed, have a name: Ruach.

Like its Greek counterpart, Pneuma, Ruach has a plethora of meanings ranging from a light breeze to breath, or even a fierce wind. We must understand from the outset that ancient Jews did not draw a sharp distinction between Spirit and wind; indeed, we need to appreciate the fact that “wherever we read ‘wind’ in the Scripture, people of biblical times also understood ‘spirit,’ and wherever we read ‘spirit,’ they also understood ‘wind.’”[1] The symbol and the signifier are interconnected.

So, if the importance knowing the Spirit’s name lies in understanding the core of the Spirit as a person, then what does the name Ruach (wind or breath) tell us about the Spirit?

First, Ruach informs us that, like a natural wind, the Spirit cannot be tamed. The Spirit is free from the box of any particular cultural construal. The Spirit transcends and supersedes all our finite conceptions. To yoke the Spirit would be like taming the wind: if the wind were tamed it would no longer be wind, it would be dead and lifeless air. To bottle up the Spirit for one’s political or social agenda is impossible. In our attempts to do so, we inevitably demonstrate that it is not the Spirit we have caged with our ideological agendas, but an idol forged in our image. We cannot tame Ruach.

Second, Ruach, like breath, communicates life. The Spirit gives the breath of life not only to human beings but to the entire cosmos. This breath demonstrates that the Spirit’s concern extends beyond our human interests to the whole of creation. Indeed, just as the Spirit breathed life into the first creatures in Genesis, so too the Spirit longs to breathe new life into a redeemed world, not just redeemed human beings.

Furthermore, the Spirit breathes life into the church. The church does not survive on her own efforts or energies. For all our scheming, planning, and strategizing, this is not how the church perseveres in life. Our identity is not wrapped up in programs or number of baptisms; our identity is rooted in the life giving breath of the Spirit. Neither the church nor the individual Christian life is sustainable through suffocating programs and agendas which inhibit our breathing the fresh air of God’s Spirit.

Third, the name Ruach, like breath, communicates intimacy. “Breath is that which is most ‘inward’ and intimate, most vital and personal to a human being.”[2] It is through the Spirit that the church has intimate fellowship with the Father (Eph. 2:18-22). “We know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit.” (I John 4:13) Just as the Spirit was Jesus’ “inseparable companion,”[3] so too the Spirit is warmly present. When we are lonely or infirm, the Spirit is there when no one else it. The Spirit groans on our behalf, knowing that our sufferings are but a momentary affliction that the Triune God longs to redeem.

Finally, when we add the word Holy before Spirit, we recognize the non-triviality with which we approach Ruach. Ruach is not like you and I. Holiness does not merely describe the moral quality of Ruach, it describes Ruach’s very being. Holiness is an essential ontological attribute to the Spirit. Being in the presence of Ruach is to be in the presence of the holy. This does more than just make the hair on the back of our neck stand up. The holy is frightening and terrible. To be in the presence of a person who knows us so intimately (all our secrets, all our failures, all our high-handed sins), a person who could, like a fierce wind, cast us away, a person who cannot be bridled by our agendas; to be in this person’s presence is fearful. Indeed, the presence of the Holy Spirit is “disturbing, upsetting, and awe-ful.”[4] I do believe that love is God’s central attribute. But that love is Holy Love.

A name is a symbol that creates worlds. By recognizing the Spirit’s name, we are invited into a world of gentles breezes and fierce storms. While only goodness can be found in this name, there remains nothing safe about the Holy Spirit. Transcendent but immanent, tangible yet holy, the tension is purposeful in the symbolic world created and sustained by the name Ruach.

In order to continue this post series, I find that it is necessary to stop for a moment to talk about what I mean by Postmodernity. It is a slippery concept, one that is often misunderstood and vilified to the point that most people do not know what in the world it really is. [1] I can say this for certain, because I have and do both. After years of trying to first vilify and then trying to understand what exactly this postmodernity stuff is all about, this is what I have come to and how I have come to use the term in my writing.

In the most basic sense of the term, postmodernity is the system of thought, the way of constructing the world, that succeeds modernism. Remember, modernism demanded from its adherents that there be one final and comprehensive way of viewing and constructing the world to which everyone must adhere. When this cracks, multiple ways of viewing and constructing the world emerge from its ashes, thus Postmodernism is the sum of the systems of viewing the world that emerge after the cracking of modernisms hegemony. Not only is postmodernism the sum of the systems, it is also the collection of the ways in which people deal with the emergence of a plethora of acknowledged (after all, there have been these competing systems forever, postmodernism merely gives them a voice, rather than dismissing them after the first discrepancy) of systems as they interact with one another.

A Series of Cities, each with a Hill to Shine From

Think about a set of cities that all are controlled by a central capital. The central city administers and controls all functions of daily life not only for the cities, but for the people within the cities. This is modernism. Now imagine that all of the cities throw off the rule of the central city and rule themselves. This is postmodernism.

No longer does one ask what the central authority says must be done, must be followed, must be thought and impose it on the lives of Others. Instead there is an acknowledgment of a basic fact of existence – that each city sees the world in a different way. To force [2] [3] them to be like Us is an act of tyranny of the central authority on the lives of Others. Remember, there are some things in this world that are not verifiable. I know math, I know how many apples are in my fridge. However, I can’t show that God exists objectively, I can’t demonstrate beyond a shadow of a doubt that my version of Jesus existed in history without making leaps of faith.

Replacing the above are questions about competing narratives. [4] You are now free to choose the city you live in. Will I move to the Mormon city or the Baptist city? I dunno, what is their narrative like? Does it make sense? These are the sorts of questions that are asked. The cities’ narratives compete with one another for the membership of the citizens of the state.

The Denial of Truth?

Is there a denial of truth here? Not at all! That is the central conservative critique of postmodernism, is it not? Isn’t there one way that things actually are? Is there not one and only one reality? I think that there is. I don’t think that there is a necessary denial of truth in postmodernism, at least the way I use the term. [5] Instead, there is a shifting of the questions that are being asked.

This is where the idea that all postmoderns deny truth comes from. When you are talking about the collection of cities and are wanting to talk about their truth claims, you can only talk semi-objectively about what each city thinks the truth is, not about if each city actually has the truth. Once you start doing that, then you are really speaking about the set of truth claims that the city that you are in proposes. Note that all of this is independent of the actual “truth” that is out there. [6] Any time that someone says anything, they are saying it from their position in time, space, culture, and community. Objectivity, as a concept, is dead.

The Payoff

I see postmodernity, not as a vile beast that threatens the Kingdom of God (or the Realm of the Child of True Humanity lol), but as a better way of viewing the world and its communities, [7] something that allows me to disagree with these other communities without writing them off as useless. Postmodernity allows me to love them as fellow images of God, the whole while without abandoning the tenets of my religion as it has been revealed to me by God.

Now, a great many people have defined and used postmodernism in a great many ways. It is a malleable concept, one constructed by people for their uses. I am sure some of you consider yourself postmodernist and would describe it in different terms; others might point to other postmoderns and their absolute denial of truth to refute the above – just remember that not all elements of this set are the same.

Finally, the way I am using this term, there is no “Philosophy of Despair,” as Travis so polemically put it, to call it such is to demonstrate one’s misunderstanding of it.

I’ll try to address the what narratives are and why they are so important in my next post.

1. to think of something similar, consider the idea of America. Now think of the nastiest thing that America’s opponents say about it, that we are violent, that we only care about material possessions, etc. Now, these things are true of America and not true of America at the same time, that is, they are true for segments of the population and not true for other segments of the population. Thus, postmodernity, like America is an accurate, but imprecise term [↩]
2. i.e. write them off as useless, invaluable on the sole basis of their not sharing our worldview [↩]
3. through active or passive cohesion [↩]
4. By narrative, I mean their story of life – a collection of their worldview, their sacred texts, their stories that give their lives meaning, their practices and pastimes [↩]
5. which is not to say that other people configure postmodernism and construct a narrative that denies absolute truth I am saying that I can use the category of postmodernism in a way that is consistent with what is revealed to us in the Bible [↩]
6. By this, I mean how existence actually is [↩]
7. from a descriptive, not a prescriptive standpoint [↩]