Spe Salvi #7 and 8 by Benedict XVI:
The question: what is the meaning of "subtance" here?
We
must return once more to the New Testament. In the eleventh chapter of the Letter
to the Hebrews (v. 1) we find a kind of definition of faith which
closely links this virtue with hope. Ever since the Reformation there has been
a dispute among exegetes over the central word of this phrase, but today a way
towards a common interpretation seems to be opening up once more. For the time
being I shall leave this central word untranslated. The sentence therefore
reads as follows: “Faith is the hypostasis of things hoped
for; the proof of things not seen”. For the Fathers and for the theologians of
the Middle Ages, it was clear that the Greek word hypostasis was
to be rendered in Latin with the term substantia. The Latin
translation of the text produced at the time of the early Church therefore
reads:Est autem fides sperandarum substantia rerum, argumentum non
apparentium—faith is the “substance” of things hoped for; the proof of
things not seen. Saint Thomas Aquinas[4], using the terminology
of the philosophical tradition to which he belonged, explains it as follows:
faith is a habitus, that is, a stable disposition of the spirit,
through which eternal life takes root in us and reason is led to consent to
what it does not see. The concept of “substance” is therefore modified in the
sense that through faith, in a tentative way, or as we might say “in embryo”—and
thus according to the “substance”—there are already present in us the things
that are hoped for: the whole, true life. And precisely because the thing
itself is already present, this presence of what is to come also creates
certainty: this “thing” which must come is not yet visible in the external
world (it does not “appear”), but because of the fact that, as an initial and
dynamic reality, we carry it within us, a certain perception of it has even now
come into existence. To Luther, who was not particularly fond of theLetter
to the Hebrews, the concept of “substance”, in the context of his view of
faith, meant nothing. For this reason he understood the term hypostasis/substance not
in the objective sense (of a reality present within us), but in the subjective
sense, as an expression of an interior attitude, and so, naturally, he also had
to understand the termargumentum as a disposition of the subject.
In the twentieth century this interpretation became prevalent—at least in
Germany—in Catholic exegesis too, so that the ecumenical translation into
German of the New Testament, approved by the Bishops, reads as follows: Glaube
aber ist: Feststehen in dem, was man erhofft, Überzeugtsein von dem, was man
nicht sieht (faith is: standing firm in what one hopes, being
convinced of what one does not see). This in itself is not incorrect, but it is
not the meaning of the text, because the Greek term used (elenchos) does
not have the subjective sense of “conviction” but the objective sense of
“proof”. Rightly, therefore, recent Prot- estant exegesis has arrived at a
different interpretation: “Yet there can be no question but that this classical
Protestant understanding is untenable”[5]. Faith is not merely a
personal reaching out towards things to come that are still totally absent: it
gives us something. It gives us even now something of the reality we are waiting
for, and this present reality constitutes for us a “proof” of the things that
are still unseen. Faith draws the future into the present, so that it is no
longer simply a “not yet”. The fact that this future exists changes the
present; the present is touched by the future reality, and thus the things of
the future spill over into those of the present and those of the present into
those of the future.
8. This explanation is
further strengthened and related to daily life if we consider verse 34 of the tenth
chapter of the Letter to the Hebrews, which is linked by vocabulary and
content to this definition of hope-filled faith and prepares the way for it.
Here the author speaks to believers who have undergone the experience of
persecution and he says to them: “you had compassion on the prisoners, and you
joyfully accepted the plundering of your property (hyparchonton—Vg. bonorum),
since you knew that you yourselves had a better possession (hyparxin—Vg.substantiam)
and an abiding one.” Hyparchonta refers to property, to what
in earthly life constitutes the means of support, indeed the basis, the
“substance” for life, what we depend upon. This “substance”, life's normal
source of security, has been taken away from Christians in the course of
persecution. They have stood firm, though, because they considered this
material substance to be of little account. They could abandon it because they
had found a better “basis” for their existence—a basis that abides, that no one
can take away. We must not overlook the link between these two types of
“substance”, between means of support or material basis and the word of faith
as the “basis”, the “substance” that endures. Faith gives life a new basis, a
new foundation on which we can stand, one which relativizes the habitual
foundation, the reliability of material income. A new freedom is created with
regard to this habitual foundation of life, which only appears to
be capable of providing support, although this is obviously not to deny its
normal meaning. This new freedom, the awareness of the new “substance” which we
have been given, is revealed not only in martyrdom, in which people resist the
overbearing power of ideology and its political organs and, by their death,
renew the world. Above all, it is seen in the great acts of renunciation, from
the monks of ancient times to Saint Francis of Assisi and those of our
contemporaries who enter modern religious Institutes and movements and leave
everything for love of Christ, so as to bring to men and women the faith and
love of Christ, and to help those who are suffering in body and spirit. In
their case, the new “substance” has proved to be a genuine “substance”; from
the hope of these people who have been touched by Christ, hope has arisen for
others who were living in darkness and without hope. In their case, it has been
demonstrated that this new life truly possesses and is “substance” that calls
forth life for others. For us who contemplate these figures, their way of
acting and living isde facto a “proof” that the things to come, the
promise of Christ, are not only a reality that we await, but a real presence:
he is truly the “philosopher” and the “shepherd” who shows us what life is and
where it is to be found.
Development of the Notion of Substance (Object) to Subject (“I”)
My Understanding of Spe Salvi #7-8 [above]:
1) The ultimate reality is the Word of
God.[1]
2) The Word of God is Subject/Person, not
object. Hence the Word of God cannot be “substance” as understood by Greek
philosophy as individual thing-in-itself,
and not-in-another, and this because the Word of God is the Word of the
Father as Son. As Son, He is nothing-in-Himself.[2]
As the Father is not an individual-in-Himself, so the Son is not an
individual-in-Himself. As the Father is not the Father and then engenders the
Son, but is the very act of
engendering the Son, so also the Son is the
act of obeying and glorifying the Father. Hence, in this context, Ratzinger
famously wrote: “In this idea of relativity in word and love, independent of the
concept of substance and not to be classified among the ‘accidents,’ Christian
thought discovered the kernel of the concept of person, which describes
something other and infinitely more than the mere idea of the ‘individual’…
Therein lies concealed a revolution in man’s view of the world: the undivided
sway of thinking in terms of substance is ended; relation is discovered as an
equally valid primordial mode of reality.”[3]
3) The act of faith is the act of the
whole person going out of self to receive into self the Word of God. Our Lady
is the protagonist of this. She empties self, lowering self, creating space in
self to “hear” the Word from within such that the Word becomes flesh – her
flesh. She becomes “another Christ,” “Ipse Christus.” She is not addressed as
“Miriam” by the angel, but kekaritomene
(full of grace = full of God). The act of faith is a death-event powered
ontologically by the sacrament of Baptism to transcend self such that one goes
to death. Christ’s Baptism was the Passion and Death. So also the act of faith
with us. There is a change of subjects in us. “The ‘I’ ceases to be an
autonomous subject standing in itself. It is snatched away from itself and
fitted into a new subject. The ‘I’ is not simply submerged, but it must really
release its grip on itself in order then to receive itself anew in and together
with a greater ‘I.’”[4]
“I live; no, not I. Christ lives in me” (Gal 2, 20).
4) This development of the believing
baptized subject into the “I” of Christ accounts for the presence of hope,
because hope is the tendency of the ontological person, created in the image
and likeness of the divine relational Person [of the Son]. And so, Benedict’s
talking about the “already-not yet” is talk about becoming the reality of the
Son (Christ) which is where we are going. If I have Christ in me – nay, I am
inchoately Christ already - but not fully yet. My stretching and yearning for
this is hope. It is the result of
faith which incarnates Christ in me – and toward which I was always yearning
since I was created in His image and likness. He is the Protagonist (GS #22)
and meaning of who I am, and Who I am to be.
5) And notice the light that is involved here.
Ratzinger explains in his “Milestones” (108-109) that there is no
“re-vel-ation” until I personally receive the Person of the Word in me. Insofar
as I am turned back on myself, I am blind and hopeless. I have to remove “the
veil,” and the “veil” is my “self-referentiality,” my being-in-myself. It is
removed by the generosity of the act of faith to go out of myself in the
service of others. The experience of that is always accompanied by consciousness
which is the mystical knowing of Christ. Hence, “revelation” is not the texts
of Scripture, but behind them and in me by the act of becoming Him from
within. This is the same as his thesis 3 in “Behold the Pierced One” when he
explains that: since Christ is prayer [as Incarnate
Relation to the Father], and like is known by like, I cannot know
Christ unless I pray, and only to the extent that I do pray. Prayer is the act of faith whereby I
become Christ, and have hope. And this because that
relational thrust that He is for and toward the Father, is now in
me. The new “substance” that Christians experience is not what
Aristotle understood by substance (to
be in self) but quite different: the Christ in them Who is out of Self). By going out of myself, I stand on Christ, and not
yet being fully Him, I hope.
6) And so, “faith is the substance of
things to be hoped for” [Heb. 11, 1]
Fr. Bob
[1]
“Furthermore, the Word of God is the foundation
of everything, it is the true reality. And to be realistic, we must rely upon
this reality. We must change our idea that matter, solid things, things we can
touch, are the more solid, the more certain reality. At the end of the Sermon
on the Mount the Lord speaks to us about the two possible foundations for
building the house of one's life: sand and rock. The one who builds on sand
builds only on visible and tangible things, on success, on career, on money. Apparently
these are the true realities. But all this one day will pass away. We can see
this now with the fall of large banks: this money disappears, it is nothing.
And thus all things, which seem to be the true realities we can count on, are
only realities of a secondary order. The one who builds his life on
these realities, on matter, on success, on appearances, builds upon sand. Only
the Word of God is the foundation of all reality, it is as stable as the
heavens and more than the heavens, it is reality. Therefore, we must change our
concept of realism. The realist is the one who recognizes the Word of God, in
this apparently weak reality, as the foundation of all things. Realist is the
one who builds his life on this foundation, which is permanent. Thus the first
verses of the Psalm invite us to discover what reality is and how to find the
foundation of our life, how to build life.”
[2] “The Son as Son, and in so far as he is Son, does not proceed in any
way from himself and so is completely one with the Father; since he is nothing
beside him, claims no special position of his own, confronts the Father with
nothing belonging only to him, retains no room for his own individuality,
therefore he is completely equal to the Father. The logic is compelling: if there
is nothing in which he is just he, no kind of fenced-off private ground, then
he coincides with the Father, is ‘one’ with him. It is precisely this totality
of interplay that the word ‘Son’ aims at expressing. To John ‘Son’ means
being-from-another; thus with this word he defines the being of this man as
being from another and for others, as a being that is completely open on both
sides, knows no reserved area of the mere ‘I.’ When it thus becomes clear that
the being of Jesus as Christ is a completely open being, a being ‘from’ and
‘towards,’ that nowhere clings to itself and nowhere stands on its own, then it
is also clear at the same time that this being is pure relation (not
substantiality) and, as pure relation, pure unity. This fundamental statement about
Christ becomes, as we have seen, at the same time the explanation of Christian
existence. To John, being a Christian means being like the Son, becoming a son;
that is, not standing on one’s own and in oneself, but living completely open
in the ‘from’ and ‘towards.’ In so far as the Christian is a ‘Christian,’ this
is true of him. And certainly such utterances will make him aware to how small
an extent he is a Christian” [Introduction to Christianity, Ignatius (1990) 134.
[3] J.
Ratzinger, “Introduction to Christianity,” Ignatius (1990) 132.
[4] J.
Ratzinger, “The Spiritual Basis and Ecclesial Identity of Theology,” in The
Nature and Mission of Theology, Ignatius (1995) 51.
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