At the opening of the dialogue, Phaedrus offers a dramatic presentation of a speech, which argues that the lover damages both himself and his beloved, while the non-lover benefits both himself and his beloved. Socrates is swept away by this powerful speech and offers his own speech with the same theme, but with the argument refined. After delivering his speech, Socrates realizes that their speeches where horrible, foolish and impious. Why? Because their speeches both spoke ill of Eros. So, Socrates offers another speech as a sort of penance for his blasphemy.

Socrates begins his again-speech (palinode) by questioning the underlying premise of the previous speeches. Both Phaedrus and Socrates had assumed that madness was “bad, pure and simple” (244a). Yet, in the palinode Socrates recognizes four types of madness that are good: prophecy, purification rites, possession by the muses, and the god-given erotic madness. If you have read the last several posts, you will realize that I am particularly interested in this last form of madness. In the last post, I suggested that Christians should be erotically inclined schemers after the beautiful and the good. Now, I would like to suggest that this activity is sometimes rational and sometimes suprarational. Sometimes Christians should display self-control and sometimes they should display madness. Previously, I suggested that I wanted to explore who God is and who I am and how God and I are related. Here, I am suggesting that I am a hybrid and a contradiction. In me, mania and sophrosyne are intertwined. In me, the lion and the lamb have lain down together with neither subjugating the other. In my next post, I will make my first attempt at setting the boundaries between proper Christian mania and improper Christian mania.

This is part of why I think that modern Christians should be skilled in erotic love. For Christians should recognize their lack and become schemers after the beautiful and the good. For, Christ is both our ultimate lack and the ultimate object of erotic desire for the Church.

For those of you who have never read Plato, you might be surprised to learn that Plato never speaks in his own voice. All of his works (except possibly some letters) are written as literary dialogues. Moreover, there is strong internal evidence that we should not simply interpret any particular character as the mouth piece of Plato (not even Socrates).

I realize that the content of the Symposium and the Phaedrus might seem strange and bizarre to most modern Americans. For, both discuss eros/Eros primarily within a pederastic context. Socrates, who is well known for his constant denial of all knowledge, claims in the Symposium that the only subject he has knowledge of is ta erotika (the erotic things). Although I think that there is much that modern Christians should disagree with in these works, I think Plato raises many issues that the modern Christian should not ignore. Thus, in future posts, I would like to focus on a few problems Plato addresses that I find interesting and applicable. However, for now, I would like to merely state some of these problems. Plato seems particularly interested in these problems in the life of the philosopher, but I want to raise them in connection with the life of the theologian.

• What is eros?
• What is the proper function (orthopraxis) of eros in the life of the theologian?
• What is the relationship between the body and the soul?
• Are all forms of madness (mania) bad?
• What is the relationship between reasoned arguments and myths?
• How can we have true knowledge of non-sensible objects?
• How does the body respond to knowledge of non-sensible objects?

In this post, I offer a preliminary exploration of the three types of incarnation.  In order to do this, I would like to share part of Saint Ephrem the Syrian’s Thirty First Hymn on Faith (translated by Sabastian Brock).

Let us give thanks to God
   who clothed Himself in the name of the body’s various parts:
Scripture refers to His “ears”
   to teach us that he listens to us;
it speaks of His “eyes,”
   to show that He sees us.
It was just the names of such things
   that he put on,
and– although in His true being
   there is no wrath or regret–
yet He put on these names
   because of our weakness.

Thus, God anthropormorphisizes himself, in order to teach humanity.  As early as the 6th Century B.C., Xenophanes of Colophon criticized the anthropomorphic depiction of God saying that if horses and cows were physically capable, they would fashion their gods in their own form.  Now, modern Christians shy away from anthropomorphic descriptions of God. Yet, Ephrem suggests that God himself put on these names, for our sake.

Ephrem continues:

Blessed is He who has appeared to our human race under so many metaphors.

We should realize that,
  had He not put on the names
of such things,
  it would not have been possible for Him
to speak with us humans.
  By means of what belongs to us did He draw close to us:
He clothed Himself in language,
  so that He might clothe us
in His mode of life.
  He asked for our form and put this on,
and then, as a father with his children,
  He spoke with our childish state.

God has clothed himself in words in order to draw near to us.  He draws near to us clothed in the name “father” and teaches us about “sees” and “hears”.  Yet, these words are clothing and can be taken off.  Yet, I worship God while He is clothed “in what belongs to us.”  Theology is not merely a set of propositions about God, it is an ecstatic experience.    In the next post, I will suggest that ecstatic Theology is an erotic experience.

Saint Ephrem sewed by Kim Scott, 2009.

Ephrem continues:

It is our metaphors that He put on–
  though He did not literally do so;
He then took them off– without actually doing so:
  when wearing them, He was at the same time stripped of them.
He puts on one when it is beneficial,
  then strips it off in exchange for another;
the fact that He strips off
  and puts on all sorts of metaphors
tells us that the metaphor
  does not apply to His true Being:
because that Being is hidden,
  He has depicted it by means of what is visible.

Slightly later in the poem Ephrem writes hu hwa w-la hu hwa, which Brock translates as “He became, but did not come into being.”  Although I would not like to disagree with my Syriac hero, the literal meaning of the words seem to fit well with the context: He/it is and He/it is not.  The metaphors apply to God and they do not apply to God.  He is simultaneously clothed and stripped.  His true being is hidden.  As one reader suggested in the comments on the last post, this seems to be the divine darkness.  Yet, I am not sure this is identical with what came to be known as apophatic theology.  This is not the negative way, where we speak of what God is not and we know God through the negative space.  This is the “IS and IS NOT.”  G.K. Chesterton suggested that at the heart of Christianity there is a paradox: “the cross, though it has at its heart a collision and a contradiction, can extend its four arms for ever without altering its shape. Because it has a paradox in its centre it can grow without changing.”  Throughout history theologians have argued over the meaning of the incarnation.  Early Muslims were shocked by the obvious implications of the incarnation: God defecated and urinated.  I think that these Muslims understood God’s transcendence better than most modern American Christians.  Christians should be shocked by the bowel movements of God!  I have tried to keep this short and coherent.  Here, I have only hinted and suggested at how Man can know God.  Obviously, this is not apologetics.  I am not trying to prove that these things are so.  I am trying to show how the elements of my faith are connected (sometimes logically and sometimes mystically).  In the next post, I will offer a few more hints and suggestions on how we can know God.

Al-huriat

In my last post, I posited that God is real, but I am a shadow.  Then, I preceded to raise three questions that are going to be the subject of this blog: what is God? what am I? what is our relationship?  However, as one reader pointed out, my foundational premise seems to lead inevitably to the conclusion that my fundamental questions must remain unanswerable.  Now, I will make explicit what was only implicit in the last post.

I will start with a statement that many theologians have uttered in some form or another.  God is ineffable; he is unknowable; he is beyond thought.  Yet, this seems to imply that the discipline of theology is doomed to failure and the theologians who have raised this problem seem to have undermined their own discipline.  Furthermore, some of those who have uttered such statements have recognized that these statements are self-referential.  If God is unspeakable, how is it that we can say “God is unspeakable”?  And if he is unknowable, how can we say “he is unknowable”?

We can conclude that all these theologians were simple minded, but this seems to contradict their apparent strength of mind in other areas.  Perhaps, we can conclude that these theologians were attempting to create a paradox in order to be “cute” or “clever.”  Yet, I would like to suggest that we should understand the proposition as an infinitely recursive statement.  Thus, it is not accurate to say that we cannot accurately speak about God.  Nor is accurate to say that we cannot accurately say that we cannot accurately speak about God.  And so on.  Infinitely.  Thus, I will say that God is infinitely ineffable, infinitely unknowable, and infinitely beyond thought.

This explicitly means that my questions are unanswerable.  In other words, it is impossible for humanity to know God.  Within the context of this discussion, I will hazard to say that God is infinitely unknowable.  Yet, I have claimed to have faith in God and my faith is not without a sort of knowledge.  As Charles Wesley wrote: “His spirit answers to the blood and tells me I am born of God.”  Here, I have suggested (not argued) that God is infinitely transcendent.  In my next post, I will suggest a tentative solution to the problem by positing that God is “infinitely descendent” in his incarnation.  In other words, God transcends his own transcendence.  However, I stop here, because I think that even those who lay claim to faith should be shocked by statements of knowledge about God.

Now, I will start by trying to express my complex faith as simply as possible.  If I were to summarize my faith with one sentence, then I would borrow Saint Paul’s words and invest them with new meaning: “Let God be True, and let every man be a liar.”  I could offer a so-called historic-literal interpretation of this verse and make my Christian Evangelical audience feel comfortable.  However, I want to offer a “spiritual” interpretation of these words that unpack how I understand my Faith.

Ultimately, God and Man are in an obviously hierarchical relationship.  God is real.  I am Shadow.  God’s existence is not tentative, mine is.  Frequently, philosophers and theologians like to prove God’s existence or his lack of existence.  However, I take his existence as given, while my existence is something that requires proof.  God is Good.  I am not.  By definition!  I do not base this upon some argument.

Now, it seems to me that expressing truth is a religious experience and rational thinking is a mystical experience.  Thus, with this partial definition of faith in mind, I am consumed by three questions.

1. Who is God?
2. Who am I (as an individual and as a member of a species)?
3. What sort of relationship is possible/desirable between God and man?

In my next post, I will begin with some thoughts on the first question.  I will look at God’s transcendence and offer the position that God is unknowable and unspeakable.