Dr. Bob Gonzales
Puritan Board Junior
Brothers,
I'm preparing an article on Genesis 6:6 and divine emotivity. Below is a brief treatment of the text and a concise summary of some of the theological reflection (mainly Reformed) on the question of divine emotivity. If you read what I've posted below, you'll note (1) that I'm not entirely satisfied with the way Reformed thinkers (and others) have treated this subject and (2) that I've not completed the article. I think I have a general idea of where I want to go, but I thought I'd post the first part of my article in order to solicit feedback and constructive criticism. This, in turn, will help me in preparing the second half of the article. (Note: I did not include references to works cited because I thought that would make the post too cumbersome. However, I'm willing to provide such should anyone be interested.)
Can Sinners Break God's Heart?
One Old Testament scholar aptly depicts the spread of human sin after the fall as “an avalanche.” This avalanche accelerates to such staggering proportions that God is forced to visit the world in a catastrophic flood-judgment (7:6-24). But prior to the judgment itself, God evaluates the human condition (6:5) and issues a judgment oracle (6:7). Between the divine evaluation and oracle, Moses inserts a striking revelation: “The LORD was grieved that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain” (6:6, NIV). Moses isn’t content to portray sin’s sway by merely dissecting man’s rotten heart, but he provides a staggering disclosure of God’s broken heart. Using emotionally charged vocabulary, Moses depicts Yahweh as feeling both regret for creating humanity and also heart-deep pain because of the rebellion of his images. In response to man’s change from very good (1:31) to very evil (6:5), Yahweh genuinely feels a mixture of disappointment and anger, which in turn produces a profound heart-felt sorrow, something with which any reader who has felt the pangs of the curse can to some degree identify. God’s emotive reaction to the proliferation of human sin serves not only as the literary connection between his inquest and doom oracle. It also serves to remind the reader that, to use of words of Franz Delitzsch, “he does not decide on the extinction of he world with cold indifference. The divine judgment and the divine pain are but two sides the external and the internal of one and the same reality.”
In their effort to preserve God’s transcendence, sovereignty, and immutability, some Reformed commentators and theologians urge a different reading. They dissuade the reader from interpreting God’s emotive response literally. John Calvin, for example, is quick to assert,
Many Reformed commentators and theologians have followed Calvin’s view of divine emotivity. Francis Turretin, one of Calvin’s successors, articulates this perspective with great precision:
Where does this leave our interpretation of Genesis 6:6? A literal reading of the text suggests the idea that God genuinely experienced heart-felt sorrow and even anger in response to the escalation and aggravation of human sin (6:5). If we follow the reasoning of some classic theists, however, we shall have to revise our exegetical conclusions. We are left with a God who thinks (6:5) and a God who acts (6:7), but not with a God who feels (6:6). God’s remorse and pain, we are told, refers not to the kind of feelings that would prompt the redemptive/punitive action described in the verses that follow (6:8ff.). They are, rather, God’s mode of accommodating himself to our finite understanding. “It is only by the use of such human expressions,” writes Augustine, “that Scripture can make its many kinds of readers whom it wants to help to feel, as it were, at home. Only thus can Scripture frighten the proud and arouse the slothful, provoke inquiries and provide food for the convinced.” Hence, the God of Genesis 6:6 is not “profoundly moved.” On the contrary, he is, to borrow the title of a popular song, “comfortably numb.” Accordingly, the reader should be advised,
So, brothers, what are your thoughts, suggestions, or caveats?
Gratefully,
I'm preparing an article on Genesis 6:6 and divine emotivity. Below is a brief treatment of the text and a concise summary of some of the theological reflection (mainly Reformed) on the question of divine emotivity. If you read what I've posted below, you'll note (1) that I'm not entirely satisfied with the way Reformed thinkers (and others) have treated this subject and (2) that I've not completed the article. I think I have a general idea of where I want to go, but I thought I'd post the first part of my article in order to solicit feedback and constructive criticism. This, in turn, will help me in preparing the second half of the article. (Note: I did not include references to works cited because I thought that would make the post too cumbersome. However, I'm willing to provide such should anyone be interested.)
Can Sinners Break God's Heart?
One Old Testament scholar aptly depicts the spread of human sin after the fall as “an avalanche.” This avalanche accelerates to such staggering proportions that God is forced to visit the world in a catastrophic flood-judgment (7:6-24). But prior to the judgment itself, God evaluates the human condition (6:5) and issues a judgment oracle (6:7). Between the divine evaluation and oracle, Moses inserts a striking revelation: “The LORD was grieved that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain” (6:6, NIV). Moses isn’t content to portray sin’s sway by merely dissecting man’s rotten heart, but he provides a staggering disclosure of God’s broken heart. Using emotionally charged vocabulary, Moses depicts Yahweh as feeling both regret for creating humanity and also heart-deep pain because of the rebellion of his images. In response to man’s change from very good (1:31) to very evil (6:5), Yahweh genuinely feels a mixture of disappointment and anger, which in turn produces a profound heart-felt sorrow, something with which any reader who has felt the pangs of the curse can to some degree identify. God’s emotive reaction to the proliferation of human sin serves not only as the literary connection between his inquest and doom oracle. It also serves to remind the reader that, to use of words of Franz Delitzsch, “he does not decide on the extinction of he world with cold indifference. The divine judgment and the divine pain are but two sides the external and the internal of one and the same reality.”
In their effort to preserve God’s transcendence, sovereignty, and immutability, some Reformed commentators and theologians urge a different reading. They dissuade the reader from interpreting God’s emotive response literally. John Calvin, for example, is quick to assert,
The repentance, which is here ascribed to God, does not properly belong to him, but has reference to our understanding of him. For since we cannot comprehend him as he is, it is necessary that, for our sake, he should, in a certain sense, transform himself…. Certainly God is not sorrowful or sad; but remains for ever like himself in his celestial and happy repose: yet, because it could not otherwise be known how great is God’s hatred and detestation of sin, therefore the Spirit accommodates himself to our capacity (emphasis added).
So, according to Calvin, God’s transcendent and immutable condition of bliss precludes the possibility that he might experience such emotive responses as sorrow or anger. Thus, the reader should interpret the attribution of an emotional response in God as an “accommodation” to finite human capacity. Calvin elaborates on this use of accommodative language in his Institutes:
For because our weakness does not attain to his exalted state, the description of him that is given to us must be accommodated to our capacity so that we may understand it. Now the mode of accommodation is for him to represent himself to us not as he is in himself, but as he seems to us. Although he is beyond all disturbance of mind, yet he testifies that he is angry toward sinners. Therefore whenever we hear that God is angered, we ought not to imagine any emotion in him, but rather to consider that this expression has been taken from our own human experience; because God, whenever he is exercising judgment, exhibits the appearance of one kindled and angered. So we ought not to understand anything else under the word ‘repentance’ than change of action, because men are wont by changing their action to testify that they are displeased with themselves (emphasis added).
Calvin’s line of reasoning seems to run as follows: the attribution of emotional states to God has reference not to the inward feelings that you and I normally associate with emotions. Rather, it has to do with the outward actions that such feelings in us normally provoke. Feelings of sadness, grief, compassion, joy, or anger usually move us to act in certain ways. For example, if we feel compassion towards someone in need, we’ll be motivated to help alleviate his or her need if possible. If we feel angry towards someone who has wronged us, we’ll seek vindication or redress. Like you and me, God acts in certain ways towards others. He shows kindness to the needy, and he executes judgment on the ungodly. But unlike us, God’s actions are not the reactions of genuine emotions. Instead, divine emotions serve as a literary device—an "anthropopathism," as some call it—that points to the effect rather than the cause.
Many Reformed commentators and theologians have followed Calvin’s view of divine emotivity. Francis Turretin, one of Calvin’s successors, articulates this perspective with great precision:
Repentance is attributed to God after the manner of men (antrhropopathos) but must be understood after the manner of God (theoprepos), not with respect to his counsel, but to the event; not in reference to his will, but to the thing willed; not to affection and internal grief, but to the effect and external work because he does what a penitent man usually does. If repentance concerning the creation of man (which he could not undo) is ascribed to God (Gen 6:6, 7), it must be understood not pathetically (pathetikos), but energetically (energetikos). Although he could not by a non-creation undo what he had done, yet by a destruction he could produce change.
William Ames, John Owen, Stephen Charnock, John Gill, John Dick, and James Henley Thornwell argue similarly. This viewpoint appears to be at least part of the rational for a phrase found in the Westminster Confession of Faith, the Savoy Declaration, and the 1689 London Baptist Confession, all of which affirm that God is “without body, parts, or passions” (emphasis added). Richard Muller, an expert in post-Reformation dogmatics, seems to confirm this when he writes,
Since a passion has its foundation or origin ad extra [without] and its terminus ad intra [within], it cannot be predicated of God and, in fact, fails to correspond in its dynamic with the way that God knows. An affection or virtue, by way of contrast, has its foundation or source ad intra and terminates ad extra, corresponding with the pattern of operation of the divine communicable attributes and, in particular, with the manner of the divine knowing. This understanding of affections and passions corresponds, moreover, with the etymology of the terms: an af- or ad-fectio from adficio, to exert an influence on something—in other words, an influence directed toward, not a result from, something; whereas passio, from patior, is a suffering or enduring of something—it can refer to an occurrence or a phenomenon and even to a disease.
It’s important to note that Calvin and Reformed theology did not hatch this construal of divine impassibility. One finds similar analyses in the writings Augustine, Anselm, and Aquinas. Indeed, one may find analogous reasoning among some Greek philosophers. Although the nature of deity, as depicted in Greek philosophy, differed significantly from classical Christian theology on a number of points (e.g., the Trinity), it did at points find semblance, particularly in an emphasis on a kind of transcendence that precluded the proper attribution of emotion. For instance, the Epicurean Lucretius (96-55 B.C.) opined,
For the nature of gods must ever in itself of necessity enjoy immortality together with supreme repose, far removed and withdrawn from our concerns; since exempt from every pain, exempt from all dangers, strong in its own resources, not wanting aught of us, it is neither gained by favors nor moved by anger.
Lucretius’ phrase “supreme repose” sounds similar to Calvin’s depiction of God’s “celestial and happy repose.” Such transcendent bliss is thought to be incompatible with emotional responses, which seem to imply psychological changes within God’s heart. As the great Puritan theologian John Owen argues,
That which is inconsistent with absolute blessedness and all-sufficiency is not to be ascribed to God; to do so casts him down from his excellency. But can he be blessed, is he all-sufficient, who is tossed up and down with hope, joy, fear, sorrow, repentance, anger, and the like?”
In sum, the classical view of God would seem to preclude divine emotivity. Emotions attributed to God in the Bible are to be interpreted metaphorically because a literal interpretation, so it is argued, would undermine divine transcendence, sovereignty, and immutability.
Where does this leave our interpretation of Genesis 6:6? A literal reading of the text suggests the idea that God genuinely experienced heart-felt sorrow and even anger in response to the escalation and aggravation of human sin (6:5). If we follow the reasoning of some classic theists, however, we shall have to revise our exegetical conclusions. We are left with a God who thinks (6:5) and a God who acts (6:7), but not with a God who feels (6:6). God’s remorse and pain, we are told, refers not to the kind of feelings that would prompt the redemptive/punitive action described in the verses that follow (6:8ff.). They are, rather, God’s mode of accommodating himself to our finite understanding. “It is only by the use of such human expressions,” writes Augustine, “that Scripture can make its many kinds of readers whom it wants to help to feel, as it were, at home. Only thus can Scripture frighten the proud and arouse the slothful, provoke inquiries and provide food for the convinced.” Hence, the God of Genesis 6:6 is not “profoundly moved.” On the contrary, he is, to borrow the title of a popular song, “comfortably numb.” Accordingly, the reader should be advised,
There is no pain you are misreading;
It’s just God’s mode of accommodation.
When it says, “feels,” it means, “behaves”;
His heart’s “moved,” but that’s not what it’s saying.
Has God an eye? Or has he an ear?
Or hands? Come on, you dumb baboon!
He’s too transcendent to descend,
To grieve, to feel the plight of man.
Despite the load of evil done,
God shall remain comfortably numb.
Admittedly, my satirical lyric betrays a degree of dissatisfaction with much of the foregoing portrayal of divine impassibility. Let me quickly affirm my conviction that God is genuinely impassible, when properly defined. In my view, an affirmation of God’s supreme authority (transcendence), absolute control (sovereignty), and perfect nature (immutability) does not preclude his possession of real emotional faculties, such as the inspired writers of Scripture ascribe to him in abundance. It’s just God’s mode of accommodation.
When it says, “feels,” it means, “behaves”;
His heart’s “moved,” but that’s not what it’s saying.
Has God an eye? Or has he an ear?
Or hands? Come on, you dumb baboon!
He’s too transcendent to descend,
To grieve, to feel the plight of man.
Despite the load of evil done,
God shall remain comfortably numb.
So, brothers, what are your thoughts, suggestions, or caveats?
Gratefully,