as that of an “executorial authority” rather than as an “executive authority.”
Is the Filioque debate solvable? Two ecumenical councils (Lyons in 1274, and Florence in 1438) both attempted and yet failed to resolve the struggle. Florence concluded that “from the Son” and “through the Son” means essentially the same thing, but this was later dismissed by the East. These councils probably failed because they only sought to persuade the Greeks to agree to Latin ideas. Many theologians throughout Church history (i.e., Anselm, Moltmann) have attempted various “compromises,” but none have proved satisfactory to both sides. Congar, a filioquist, asserts instead that the two formulas are complementary, as seen in the fact that the Fathers of the Church held both formulas in communion.86 Likewise, when we examine the Filioque debate in medieval theology, we seem to find complementary evidence as well.
Before attempting to “resolve” this debate exegetically (in chapter 3), we may make an initial comparison of these two views along two lines—historical (i.e., the impact of the respective positions upon history), and theological (i.e., the strengths and the weaknesses of the theological positions themselves). First, in our historical analysis, we notice two related themes regarding the Eastern Church: (1) it never completely broke from the handcuffs of imperialism, and (2) it did not recognize the authority of Christ over the Holy Spirit in ecclesiastical and soteriological issues to the same degree as the West. While granting “monarchical” authority to the Father as divine source, the “working out” of this authority in the context of humanity tends to escape into mysticism. Berman notices that this tendency is revealed in Eastern art:
Eastern Christian art has reflected the theology of the Eastern Church, and also the theology of the West between the sixth and tenth centuries, in its emphasis on transcendence (or “otherworld-liness,” as it is called in the West). This is a theology centered in heaven, in man’s “ascent to the infinite,” in man’s deification. The emphasis is on God the Father, the Creator. Christ has shown mankind the way to him. The icons reflect this.87
The Western Church, on the other hand, and Western culture as well seem to exemplify some strong benefits in association with of the Filioque. The clause was ratified by Popes who, in general, attempted to insure that the Church would not be mastered by the State but would be subject to Christ alone. Christ is King; the Pope is “vicar.” The results of their “incarnational” focus seem non-coincidental in at least two ways—the rapid development of the Catholic faith, and the progress of Western culture and the Western legal system. Berman provides the logic needed for such a conclusion:
But Western theology of the eleventh and twelfth centuries shifted the emphasis to the second person of the Trinity, to the incarnation of God in this world, to God the redeemer. God’s humanity in Christ took the center of the stage. This was reflected in the papal amendment of the Nicene Creed by the proclamation that the Holy Spirit “proceeds” not only “from the Father” but also “from the Son” (Filioque). God the Father, representing the whole of creation, the cosmic order, was incarnate in God the Son, who represents mankind. By the Filioque clause, God the Holy Spirit, who is identified in the Nicene Creed with the Church, was said to have his source not only in the First Person but also the Second Person of the Trinity—not only in creation but also in incarnation and redemption.
Thus the Church came to be seen less as the communion of saints in heaven and more as the community of sinners on earth. Rationalism itself was an expression of the believing in the incarnation of divine mysteries in human concepts and theories. God was seen to be not only transcendent but also immanent. . . . It was not transcendence as such, and not immanence as such, that was linked with the rationalization and systematization of law and legality in the West, but rather incarnation, which was understood as the process by which the transcendent becomes immanent. It is no accident that Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, all three of which postulate both a radical separation and a radical interconnection between God and man, also postulate that God is a judge and lawgiver and that man is governed by divine laws. Nevertheless, the distinctive features of the Western concepts of human law that emerged in the eleventh and twelfth centuries—as contrasted not only with Judaic and Islamic concepts but also with those of Eastern Christianity—are related to the greater Western emphasis on incarnation as the central reality of the universe. This released an enormous energy for the redemption of the world; yet it split the legal from the spiritual, the political from the ideological.88
Though the data provided by cultural and legal improvements as witnessed in the West do not provide conclusive evidence with respect to the Filioque debate, we may safely infer from Berman’s analysis that such improvements may well be linked to the Spirit’s unique role in Western theology—not as one that places a specific focus upon the Spirit himself, but because in the Filioque the Spirit has been recognized as one who possesses “executorial authority” to magnify Christ and to dispense Christ’s salvation. The Spirit is seen as the one who executes Christ’s authority (including Christ’s legal authority) in time and space in order to bring glory to Christ. Filioque Christology thus displays the heart of medieval theology—that Christ is to be honored in all respects: theology, law, culture, art, politics, et cetera. Berman’s argument is that almost all modern liberties, as promoted through the legal and civic institutions of the West, and our modern understanding of “local autonomy” are related to what happened during this time (though many of its benefits will not be completely seen until the Protestant Reformation and after). From this we can safely infer that, because of the imperial authority possessed by the State, such liberties could not have developed in the East.
In evaluating the theological strengths and weaknesses of these two positions, it seems that the logic of Augustinian thought regarding procession (and particularly with respect to Augustine’s conception of “relational opposition”) is fairly convincing. Applying such logic to the doctrine of the Spirit’s authority with respect to the divine economy in the Church age, we can deduce that the authority of the Son and the authority of the Spirit can only be distinguished (and understood to be non-conflictory) if the Spirit is “under” the authority of Christ.
This outstanding strength, however, is coupled with a considerable weakness. Colin Gunton has noticed a common complaint among many contemporary theologians that Augustine’s persona of the Spirit—identified as God’s love and gift to the world—does not adequately distinguish the Spirit from the Son, who “might equally, perhaps with more justification, be described as the Father’s love and gift to the world.”89 Such a lack of distinction is understandable when we remember that Augustine owes much to Platonic thought, as evidenced in his analogy of the immanent Trinity to the threefold structure of the human mind, with the Spirit being compared to the will. As with Plato, who said that knowledge consists in the recollection of the Forms known before one’s temporal existence, Augustine views the will as that which relates memory to knowledge by bringing the contents of memory into conscious reasoning. Likewise, the function of the Spirit in the Trinity is to bring the Father and the Son unto relationship—a unitive function that neglects many other features of the Spirit’s actions and can easily lead to a subordination of the Spirit to the Son, even within the immanent Trinity.90 The effect may well be a neglect of the Spirit’s nature as a divine Person in his own right. This is essentially ratified in Augustine’s description of the Father as auctoritas and the Spirit as communitas. The Spirit seems to possess an executorial role in the economic Trinity but not the personal authority to carry it out.
Jenson holds that Augustine’s three “persons” are functionally indistinguishable. “Augustine could no longer conceptualize the saving relation between God and creatures by saying that the Father and the Son are transformingly present in the Spirit, as the Greek originators of trinitarianism had done.”91
