Eugene A. Nida, Practical Anthropology (http://www.asmweb.org/missiology.htm),
Mar 01, 1959, Volume 6:02, pp. 49-54.
Are We Really Monotheists?
In Summary
The Christian doctrine of the Trinity is a puzzling one for [those] who try to explain it—or understand it, for that matter. In this article Dr. Nida discusses the mental images of the Trinity which we often carry around with us and try to teach to others. The response in those "others," if they are Muslims, should well give us pause and make us stop to consider just what we do say and think.
It usually comes as a surprise to the average [person] in Muslim lands to learn that Christians are consistently accused of being polytheists, not monotheists. To the Muslim, the very idea of God having a son is repugnant, for he immediately thinks in terms of sexual relations, and to associate such with Allah is nothing less than blasphemy. Moreover, the Christian's insistence that Jesus was not only the Son of God but "very God of very God" leaves the Mohammedan all the more convinced that the Christians have no right whatsoever to call themselves monotheists.
Most people, set aside the Islamic reaction to Christianity as being based upon ignorance and prejudice. But if they make a serious attempt to study Christians' untutored reactions to the doctrine of the Trinity, they find that the accusation of being basically polytheists seems to adhere tenaciously in the minds of converts, especially those whose Christian experience and training is limited.
Mental Pictures of God
If a [person] dares to approach the problem realistically, he will probably get the shock of his life. If he asks who God is, the answers often cluster about the concepts revealed in such phrases as "the old man in the sky," "the Father in the sky," "the one who made us," etc. When asked about Jesus Christ, the same people will describe many features of His life and presumed appearance, but almost never do they speak of Jesus Christ as being God. In fact, Jesus Christ is more often than not a kind of culture hero, frequently somewhat in opposition to God, but always standing up for the people. The Holy Spirit is often conceived of as just another, and more powerful, benevolent spirit.
Some [people] are inclined to think that this is more or less the way people should think of God, for in a sense this echoes their own concepts. The image which is the "mental reflex" of the word symbol "God" does exist for many mature Christians as an "old fatherly person in heaven." The Son, if He is not thought of in terms of the historical Jesus, is "a youthful figure at the right hand of the Father." And the Holy Spirit is a kind of nebulous, "foggy" substance that is supposed to be the "Third Person," but just how this is true remains a readily confessed mystery to most persons. Certainly these mental images suggest three separate entities much more than one.
What is more, some Christians tend to add to the Biblical imagery in such a way that the "three persons" are not only separate in form and function, but diverse in apparent purpose. For example, as an explanation of the theological basis of substitutionary atonement, some people say that God the Father insisted that His holiness and righteousness must not be stained by the presence of human sinners. Accordingly, to satisfy the demands of an infinitely holy and righteous God, Jesus Christ volunteered to go to earth to die in man's place, that God could maintain His inviolate character and still admit into His presence sinful mortals. Such explanations do, in a sense, contain a. kernel of Biblical truth, but in some ways they introduce more error than valid clarification, for they tend to conform to pagan views about the standoffishness of God and the function of a culture hero (in this case Jesus Christ), not primarily as a mediator, but as a defender against the demands of God. Furthermore, these explanations implicitly contradict the initiative of God in redeeming man (i.e., His being in Christ Jesus reconciling the world to Himself) and His essential mercy and love.
If, as seems well attested by a careful study of believers' mental images, the results of our teaching, not only on the mission fields but also in our own culture, produce more of a sense of three different entities than one God, what are we really to say to our critics who accuse us of being basically polytheists? Of course, our first line of defense (and a justified one) is to insist that we believe in the Trinity (three in one).This is all very well, but when we are asked to explain what we mean, we find we can only repeat a definition. Search as we may, we cannot find any finite symbol which corresponds to our verbal description of the Trinity. Some people have attempted to describe the Trinity as a circle divided into three parts, but to this the theologians object, for they insist that God is not divisible into parts. Others try to explain the Trinity on the analogy of body, soul, and spirit, but this type of trichotomy breaks down immediately. Still others have spoken of Jesus as "God with a face" and the Spirit as "the heart of God." But whatever we attempt to do by way of finding appropriate symbols in our finite experience finally leaves us without any satisfactory analogy. However, in following the Biblical symbols which grant full attributes of personality to all three persons of the Trinity, we almost immediately lead people to conceive of God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit more as three than as one. What, then, are we to do? We can scarcely admit the Muslim contention that we are really polytheists, for we really are not. On the other hand, for all practical purposes we certainly appear to be polytheists to the devotees of other religions.
If, as is so obviously the case, we tend to give an impression of being polytheists, by virtue of the verbal symbols which we use, what can we do about it? Is there any way of correcting this difficulty? Or must we go on perpetuating the same views and implied errors?
Finite Language and Infinite Faith
I believe that we can, at least in some measure, correct our mental concepts so as to be essentially more in keeping with God's revelation of Himself. In the first place, however, we must come to grips with the problem of Biblical symbolism, and to do this is not easy, for we are instantly involved in the fundamental problem of revelation and communication. However, if we are willing to do some radical thinking on this problem, we may discover something of what God wants to reveal to us.
In discussing the basic problem of God's communication to man, it seems essential, as a basic axiom, to recognize that infinite truth cannot be absolutely revealed in finite language. This does not mean that human language cannot reveal truth, but by virtue of its being tied to finite cultures (with all their human limitations), it cannot perfectly represent the ultimate reality. Paul speaks of this as "seeing through a glass darkly." This glass not only serves to reveal, but also to hide—and so with language.
In order for God to reveal Himself as a thinking, loving, creative "being," He caused Himself to be spoken of in terms of human experience, e.g., as having hands, a heart, feet, as being a Father, as feeling jealousy, pity, and compassion, as repenting, calling, and leading. God becomes located in heaven, surrounded by angels, seated on a throne and with His Son at His right hand. Many people will dismiss many of these expressions as anthropomorphisms, symbols with a nonliteralist significance. But just how far do most people go in this process of assigning Biblical figures to the status of anthropomorphic symbols? Some will say that God does not have hands and feet, and yet they cannot dismiss the concept of a throne in heaven. Others will eliminate a literal throne, but not the surrounding angels. All of these figures, however, are made even more puzzling to the average person by Jesus statement, "God is a spirit." Does the recognition of God as a spirit completely invalidate all the other symbols? Should we accordingly cast them all out as primitive modes of perception? Frankly, I do not think so, despite what some theologians, such as Bultmann and Tillich, would advocate. God's revelation of Himself in the Scriptures does not hesitate to use such figures, and why should we? Furthermore, there is no evidence that we can come any closer to the truth by rejecting such symbols—the only means by which human language can describe nonhuman realities. Nevertheless, all this seems to imply a contradiction, for we have argued that these figures lead to a misconception as to the person of God, while at the same time the requirements of human language necessitate the use of such figures. Is there any solution to the apparently irreconcilable dilemma?
Revelation of God's Activity
The solution to the basic difficulty seems to lie in the recognition that all these anthropomorphic figures refer not to God's person, but to His activity. The Bible is filled with the revelation of an acting, creative, speaking, revealing God. In so far as we know God, it is only on the basis of what He has done. Even in the case of Jesus Christ we have no authentic description of what He looked like, but we have abundant information as to what He did. All this is in direct contrast to the gods of the pagans, who are always described in vivid detail.
If, however, we are to keep people from substituting a Christian "threesome" for a pagan trio, we must interpret the Biblical figures in terms of functions and not form. Since the Scriptures do not explicitly indicate the real nature of God, in terms of substance or form (evidently a fact not communicable in human language), we should be thoroughly Biblical by not presuming to know more than God has chosen to reveal. This means that we must emphasize the essentially functional character of Biblical metaphors and symbols. This approach toward Biblical symbolism may seem a little strange at first, but it squares with the requirements of any linguistic expression and the evidence of the Scriptures. "At God's right hand" is then only a symbol of a functional relationship, i.e., "in closest and honored union with." The "throne" is a functional symbol of governing, and God's jealousy, pity, and compassion arc aspects of His breaking through to man in "redeeming love." (Here, as so often, we can only explain one functional figure by another.)
The recognition of (1) the essentially symbolic character of all words (whether so called concrete terms such as "hands," "feet," and "throne," or the more abstract expressions such as "love," "pity," and "mercy"), and (2) the special functional significance which they have in the Scriptures can go a long way toward helping people avoid the error of being "polytheists." Though we cannot find Biblical symbols which "picture" the unity of God. Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit, we do find abundant evidence of the identity of function. Even Jesus, in His statement of His oneness, with the Father, made this relationship explicit by indicating that whatsoever the Father did, He did likewise. Even the believer's being in Christ and Christ in the believer is primarily a. relationship of function, not of form or space. Certainly, when Jesus insisted that "he who has seen me has seen the Father," he evidently was not referring to bodily, but to functional identity.
Temptation to Literalism
It is not difficult to explain the fact that people consistently tend to misread the intent of Scriptures in assuming the literal interpretation of symbols referring to form. This tendency exists in all peoples. In the first place, form symbols are more readily picturable by the mind than function symbols. For example, the mental image induced by "throne" is more readily elicited than one corresponding to "govern,' or "rule." In terms of Gestalt psychology, we could say that the so called form symbol offers greater figure contrast in comparison with the "ground." Function symbols, on the other hand, usually involve "eventing" and the movements against the ground provide less impressionable figures.
Most people, however, are not content with merely ideational symbols; they demand objectifications of these in art forms. This development has taken place in Christianity, particularly in Roman Catholicism, but is increasingly a factor in Protestantism.
However, not only does the objective image take the place of the mental image (standing for some historical object or event, e.g., the Virgin Mary), but not infrequently the object itself gives rise to a new series of mental images which for many people are completely divorced from the mental image of the, historical reality, as in the case of the mother of Jesus, which becomes the Virgin of Guadalupe in Mexico. When an object no longer refers one back to the original referent, but to a new series of mental images, a so called religious image is no longer psychologically an image, but an idol.
This extreme form of "literalism" in formal symbols (by which images become idols) is completely parallel to the psychological tendency to be literalistic in interpreting all types of figures. Formal figures always seem so much more real than functional ones. We can see them more readily with "the, eyes of the mind." Therefore we give prominence to formal symbols and we tend to describe functions in terms of forms, e.g., governing in terms of thrones, power in terms of "a strong right arm," and recompense in terms of "crowns" or "fire." In keeping with this basic psychological characteristic of mankind, God has revealed Himself in just such meaningful figures, for they reveal truths (certainly to the vast majority of people) which no amount of abstract terminology could ever make known. Such symbols are certainly not untrue, but if they are interpreted by people without due recognition of their true symbolic character, they may give rise to weird theologies.
The Approach to the Muslim
But now we return to the Mohammedan objection that we are polytheists, not monotheists. First, we must admit that our chances of convincing a Muslim are very slim, for all his canons of interpretation of the Koran are essentially literalist, formal, not functional, which is no doubt the way Mohammed meant his words. However, if we do wish to try to explain to a Mohammedan what is meant by the Christian doctrine of the Trinity, we must say at the very start that the Bible contains neither a description nor an explanation of the Trinity. The identity which we find in Scripture is one of motivation and action, not of spatial diffusion or isolability. The mystery of the real essence of God will remain a mystery, for evidently though we may formulate a word symbol (Trinity), we cannot really explain in finite categories what it means. We can, however, explain what God has done within the stream of human history, and this is the really relevant set of facts which faces man.
This approach may seem to be essentially obscurantist, since it appears to deny the knowability of certain realities. However, rather than being either obscurantist or agnostic (as others might charge), this orientation takes a realistic view of the limitations of human languages as systems for symbolizing humanly perceptible "events." Moreover, this procedure of dealing with symbols recognizes the priority of form symbols and the fundamental psychological tendencies in the shift from function to form and the literalist apprehension of form symbols.
The [person] who discovers that the new believers have a "warped" literalist understanding of form symbols should accordingly not be surprised, for this has been the tendency throughout the history of Christendom, as well as in other religious systems. For example, the function symbol of "faith" (in the Biblical sense of active commitment and trust) was soon changed to mean the specific "objects" of faith, namely, the formulated doctrines. Likewise the "word," especially as "the word of God," gradually lost its meaning of "self-revealing act of Deity" and became only a synonym for the Bible. In the Johannine discourse on the sacramental nature of partaking of Christ's body and blood, there was the obvious tendency for the audience to think in literalist terms, and for this reason the discourse is concluded by a statement designed to relegate the form symbols to their proper functional status: "It is the spirit that gives life, the flesh is of no avail; the words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life.
Necessity of Form Symbols
In view of the inherent dangers involved in the use of form symbols, one might justly ask as to whether we should attempt to avoid such symbols altogether and use only function symbols. In the first place, however, we cannot make any clear cut distinction between form and function symbols, for even function symbols almost always provide the mind with a "figure and ground" from which certain more or less definite forms may be isolable. For example, for the symbol "repentance" there may soon grow up a widely distributed "mental image" (a culturally shared form symbol) of a man beating his breast in contrition of heart, as in the parable of the Publican and the Pharisee. Accordingly, even if we tried to choose only those symbols which were predominantly functional in character, we would have no guarantee that they would remain so. The history of the images in Roman Catholicism, the icons in the Orthodox Church, and the idols in Buddhism are abundant evidence of what almost inevitably happens to symbols.
In the second place, we would not wish to avoid form symbols, even if we could, for they are important means of communication. They were certainly used by Jesus in His teaching—and by every great teacher. However, what is of singular interest in the case of Jesus is His constant emphasis upon the functional character of the forms. His parables tell of events and happenings; they are rarely static images. Even when Jesus spoke of Himself as a "door," "bread," or "water," He had reference to function, not form. Here, then, lies the key to our use of symbols, namely, the constant emphasis upon their relationship to action, not to concrete figures. This serves to teach their relevance to life and history and keeps them from becoming "idols," whether of wood or of words.
If we are to be thoroughly honest about the allegation of our being polytheists, we are obliged to say that in the thinking of many Christians the word symbols by which the Trinity has been revealed have become so identified with isolable and isolated forms that on the level of this symbolism such people are polytheists. This is especially so if they associate any differences of motivation with various persons of the Godhead. However, on the level of the functional character of such symbols there is complete identity, and here lies the valid basis for our claim to monotheism.
