Archive for category New Nuggets
The Logos and Kenosis doctrines as the keys to unlocking the mysteries of Creation, Incarnation, Redemption, and Inspiration
Posted by Dallas Wolf in First Thoughts, New Nuggets, The Logos Doctrine (series), Theology on May 13, 2026
Logos – Greek: λόγος – 1. Communication whereby the mind finds expression, – word – of utterance, chiefly oral. 2. Computation, reckoning. Reason for or cause of something, reason, ground, motive. 3. Independent personified expression of God, the Logos. (BDAG)
Kenosis – Greek: κενόω – to empty. A divestiture of position or prestige: of Christ, who gave up the appearance of his divinity and took on the form of a slave, εαυτόν εκένωσεν [eaftón ekénosen]. (BDAG)
Excerpts below from John B. Heard, Carthaginian and Alexandrian Theology Contrasted. T. & T. Clark, Edinburgh. 1893. pp. 266-274:
But it occurs to us that the Kenosis doctrine, which relieves much of the mystery on the subject of the human and Divine in Christ, may also throw light on the subject of inspiration… It was assumed (as all Deists must do) that the nature of the Infinite must be incommunicable to the finite. Between Creator and creature there is much more than disparity, there is a gulf fixed which no theory can bridge over. The Incarnation, in a word, from the Deistic point of view, becomes an unthinkable mystery- it goes farther back still, since, in fact, creation itself must be unthinkable; for how can the Creator, if Infinite, pass out of Himself into the finite and conditioned? Hence, we have to fall back on such senseless phrases as that He made the worlds out of nothing, and creation at last becomes a bald affirmation of a fact for which reason by itself can offer no explanation which is not merely verbal. The early Gnostics felt this difficulty, and so they set to work to invent a Demiurge, a Bathos, a Pleroma, and other hypotheses which as hypotheses have gone the way of all brain cobwebs. The orthodox East clung, however, to the conception of the Logos either as ἐνδιάθετος, as before creation, or προφορικός, as going forth in creation. It was this Logos doctrine which carried the East safely through all the labyrinths of thought, as well on the subject of creation as of redemption. Thanks to the preface to St. John’s Gospel, that most precious jewel of God’s word, the arcanum of arcana, all was explicated, and the bald dualism of God and matter bridged over, or rather absorbed in that higher Monism in which the Eternal is ever proceeding forth through the Logos and entering into time relations, and so delighting in the habitable parts of the earth.
The Kenosis, then, which is the key to the Incarnation, is also the key to our conception of God in creation. The Eternal Father is ever communicating, in condescending love through the Son, some of His perfections to those lower orders of being whom we call His creatures. It is His nature and property so to create in condescension or self-emptying, much in the same way as it is the nature and property of the sun to shed his effulgent beams out into space. Kenosis, then, as much in creation as in redemption, at once suggests the key to what we go on to describe as the self-effacement of the Divine in a human consciousness. God spoke by the prophets so the Creed affirms; but we are nowhere asked to define the mystery, or to go into psychological puzzles as to the meeting point of human and God consciousness; nor does the Divine imply a temporary suspension of ordinary self-consciousness. We find in Christ the human was so absorbed by the Divine, that on one occasion when the disciples said, ” Master, eat,” His reply, was ” My meat is to do my Father’s will, and to finish His work.” In His case we must assume perfect simplicity and entire transparency of character. Hence, that He should forget hunger and thirst in the absorbing spirit of His work, is what much lower minds than the Christ attain to every day. But the Kenosis goes farther than this; it implies that He emptied Himself of His glory, and took a servant form. If this had been only in His Incarnation, and for three short years, then it would seem a unique, perhaps incredible mystery. But the Logos has been ever so emptying Himself. It is self-abasement, exinanition of the full glory of Godhead, when He paints the lily, and fits an insect’s eye to the tiny operations of the insect world. Hence it is that, to mere Deism with its design and argument, it seems perplexing to find perfection from the least to the greatest of God’s works. The notion of condescension in the Most High, that He ” humbleth Himself to behold the things which are done in heaven and earth,” seems strange to Deism, to whom humility seems only the shadow of the cross; and that is ” foolishness,” as we know, to the mere natural man. On these grounds we see that unless we set out with this key-word Kenosis, we shall never unravel the mysteries either of creation, redemption, or of that mode of communicating the mind of God to men which we define as inspiration. But this one master-key opens all these three locks. It is the same Logos who is the link in creation between the finite and Infinite, whose goings forth in redemption are that He has become one flesh with us that we may become one spirit with Him, and who is also the source of the old prophetic fire, the one fountain of light and love in inspiration.
The mistake in theology has been the same as in science, by isolating a single truth, and then to try and wrestle with it as with Proteus, and to wring its meaning out in single-handed fight. The sciences will not thus be won by direct assault. Their flank must be turned. In laying a subject aside and in thinking of some other thing, a side light will sometimes enter the mind, and one theory thus open the door to another. So Newton found it, as he passed from one theory of physics, where his calculations had failed him, to another theory of optics; and, after exploring the one domain, he was able to re-enter the other as conqueror, and to hold his ground there. It is the same in theology. Inspiration and the Incarnation throw light on each other; and now that we have got hold of the Incarnation by the right aspect, in the phrase of the Kenosis, it will be strange if we cannot use the same conception to lead us on to the right meaning of inspiration. In the Kenosis of Christ’s person we hold that the wisdom and goodness of God dwelt in Him bodily. In no mere Apollinarian sense (though Apollinarianism is not such a heresy as it seems) the wisdom and goodness of the Logos dwelt in the man Christ Jesus, and were to Him His Pneuma. When we speak of a human pneuma we are using words with no meaning; we are like the disciples on the Mount, not knowing what we say. The Pneuma itself is the Divine inherent in the human; it is itself a prophecy of the Incarnation – the ground and sufficient cause of the Incarnation becoming credible and intelligible, and not a mere mystery jarring to all our sense of truth. In our Lord Jesus the Christ, a Messianic element was the plenary indwelling of the Holy Ghost, not given to Him by measure as to other sons of men. But this does not imply either omniscience or omnipotence. These are attributes of pure Deity, which must be, and were, laid aside when He emptied Himself of His glory; and if equal to the Father as touching His Godhead, He became inferior to the Father as touching His manhood. Under false reverence to shrink from this frank confession of the Kenosis, is to fail to grasp the true meaning of the Incarnation. This is why, as observed already, the popular orthodox view is still Eutychian, and explains the outcry of some hyper-orthodox champions of the old school at the measured and well-weighed words of Mr. Gore in the Lux Mundi on the subject. That they were an offence at all, is an index of the depth of popular ignorance of the true Catholic doctrine of the Incarnation. Till the Kenosis is understood, the Incarnation must remain an unassimilated dogma.
It is the same with inspiration. It also stands apart among unassimilated faith formulas until we see that the Divine can only enter the human by some act of condescension. Accommodation is the old phrase. Men say that God accommodates His teaching to the imperfect faculties and immature judgments of men. At a low stage of culture He meets them with animal sacrifices and rites and ceremonies which to us seem burdensome. As the ages advance, He lightens the burden of ritual-teaching, becomes more oral and less ocular, and at last the prophet and scribe supersede the priest altogether. Even Judaism had reached the Rabbinic stage before Christ’s coming. And how strange a decline it was when Christ’s religion sank back again into the beggarly elements, and the commemoration of His death in the Eucharist feast was lowered again into a repetition of the type after the antitype, and described as the sacrifice of the Mass! We must go on to see in inspiration these advancing stages through accommodation, or else we shall never understand the Bible as a book human and Divine. To throw all the books into pie, so to speak, and read them in a lump, finding the Trinity in Gen. xix. and the doctrine of the Mass in Malachi, this is that kind of uncritical use of the Bible which we need not waste time in exposing. It is too out of date to find excuse for it in the uncritical use of the Old Testament by the Fathers of the early Church. Inspiration, in a word, is the unfolding purpose of God for the education of the race through a chosen people, that people themselves only learning the mind of God through an elect race of prophets and teachers. Thus, within the election there is an election, and the prophets themselves had to search what and what manner of time the Spirit of God which was in them did signify. They had to grope, in a word, after the meaning of their own sayings. They uttered dark sayings of old, because God-consciousness always enters in at first to dim self-consciousness, and a man inspired must be for that very reason in a sense beside himself, though always ” sober for your sake.” Inspiration was always much more than mere mantic phrenzy, we admit, though it often seemed to approach the dangerous limits between sanity and insanity.
High views of inspiration are generally assumed by devout people to indicate high views of God and His glory. In reverence for His word written our views cannot be too high, just as our reverence for the person of the Lord Jesus. Only in both cases we are to avoid the Eutychian extreme, much more common among the orthodox than the Nestorian. Two natures exist in one person; but the natures are, since the Incarnation, so fused and intermingled that He is no longer twain but one Christ; this is orthodox theology with regard to our Lord Jesus, who objects to the expression the indwelling of the Eternal Word in the man Christ. For the same reason we should be content to speak of the book as ” containing ” the word of God. By that expression we mean that in that library which we call the canon, every book has its place and purpose: each is part of a whole; and if, to us, some part seems insignificant, it is because we fail to see organic unity. It is as with our body, in which some members seem more honourable than others, but all are tempered together and bear reference to the whole. Such is inspiration. As to the literature of the canon, there are certain rights of criticism which have their place, but they are quite subordinate to and apart from the spiritual use of the Bible as a book of devotion. On that point Canon Driver has taken his stand on strong ground. He is within his rights as a Canon of Christ Church and Hebrew Professor to discuss and to deal with the Palestinian as much as with the Alexandrian Jew’s revision of the canon. He may show grounds, if there are any, why the most negative German critic may be in truer touch with the spirit of the old book than the Masoretic or any other Hebrew school of the older criticism. But he must not forget, as the negative school too often do, that the onus of proof lies with those who advance novelties. Presumption is always in favour of the occupying holder, since possession is nine points of the law. Some of our younger critics, in the first flush of excitement, forget that it is easier to assert than to prove. Negation becomes thus quite as dogmatic and far more offensive than the old traditionalism, which maintains that a position must be true because it is long established. There is, we admit, an immense presumption in its favour, since the general shut up in a garrison with ten thousand men may expect to hold his ground till another with twenty thousand men comes against him.
But, like Canon Driver, we draw our line at the literature of the Bible. Libros Canonicos ad leones is a modern version of the Christianos ad leones. Let the young lions of criticism work their will on the letter of the record, and we fearlessly say that what remains after negation has done its worst is that ” word of the Lord which liveth and abideth for ever.” To us, for instance, this new phrase, the Hexateuch, is as unimportant as the old phrase Pentateuch: it seems like pulling down one house of cards to set up another. If the orthodox had not been so ill-advised as to fall into Bibliolatry, this kind of attack would have never been made. It was the same when the old orthodox school were Creationists, and evolution seemed to set aside the hand of God and the necessity for a first cause. But as soon as the defence ceased the attack died down; and so it will be with much of this itching ear for the last novelty of negative criticism. As soon as it ceases to alarm by our taking higher ground of inspiration than the old school did, so soon will it sink into the contempt it deserves. The archives of Israel are historical documents, and therefore must go to the school of history there to be tested in the usual way. To fear the result is to show very little faith. If the New Testament canon has come out of the fires of criticism, what have we to fear for the Old? We shall no doubt have to give up something, especially the uncritical order and ground on which Jerome arranged the Vulgate, borrowing partly from the Hebrew and partly from the Greek arrangement of the books, putting them out of their true order, which was mainly chronological, and so giving fictitious importance to some semi- canonical books, such as Daniel and Koheleth, which were probably of later date than their eponymic authors, and among the Antilegomena.
All this will soon be over, and then inspiration will be seen to be a growing truth; and that as Jesus increased in body, soul, and spirit, so there is harmonious orderly growth of the letter and spirit of the Bible. In all the books there is a theopneustic element, the test of which is that it is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness. The Didaché, in a word, is elenchus, or evidence internal of its truth; this leads on to Paideia, or education, and that established state which he fitly describes as ἐπανόρθωσις, or maturity in the faith.
Divine Encounter
Posted by Dallas Wolf in New Nuggets, The Holy Trinity on April 8, 2026
Below is my testimony, as I recorded it at the time.
Last night, 01 Feb 2023, I was sleeping soundly at about 2 AM. I slowly and calmly awoke and became aware of someone standing over me to my left. It was a woman, dressed in plain light tunic and darker cloak. She seemed small and slight, but strong. She said nothing and did not acknowledge my awakening. She was bent slightly over my chest and, with arms extended, focused intently as she slowly kneaded and rolled something in her hands. The object of her attention was red, a little larger than a soft ball, but very elastic and pliable; like a dark lump of raised bread dough. wondering what she was doing, then came to realize that she was holding my heart in her hands. There was no incision, blood, or pain; just this quiet woman intently and gently kneading and squeezing my heart in her hands. This seemed to go on for a time. At some point she stopped, motionless; still leaning slightly over my chest, heart in hand. In that instant, she was gone. I returned to a peaceful sleep thinking, “That was strange!”.
I thought, at the time, that my visitor might be the Holy Spirit or perhaps a favorite Saint, like St. Macrina, the Younger. But, only She knows.
Fully Understanding Scripture
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Ekklesia and church, Hermeneutics, New Nuggets, Theology on March 28, 2026
For their lack of understanding of Greek, the Romans never fully understood the New Testament; for their lack of understanding of Hebrew, the Greeks never fully understood the Old Testament; for our lack of understanding of both, we fully understand neither.
David Bentley Hart: Romans 5:12 “… one of the most consequential mistranslations in Christian history.”
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Ancient Christian Manuscripts, Christian Anthropology -East & West (Series), Ekklesia and church, First Thoughts, New Nuggets on March 18, 2026

David Bentley Hart (born 1965) is an American Orthodox Christian philosophical theologian, cultural commentator and polemicist. An acknowledged expert in koine Greek and New Testament exegesis, Hart published his own translation of the New Testament from Greek. Hart’s Greek basis for translation is grounded in “the so-called Critical Text, which is based on earlier and different manuscript sources (such as those of the Alexandrian Text-type)… but also included a great many verses and phrases found only in the Majority Text [Byzantine Text-type] (placing them in brackets to set them off from the Critical Text).”
See The New Testament – A Translation, by David Bentley Hart, Second Edition, Yale University Press, (C) 2017, 2023.
Romans 5:12
English: “Therefore, just as sin entered into the cosmos through one man, and death through sin, so also death pervaded all humanity, whereupon all sinned;”[1]
Greek: Διὰ τοῦτο ὥσπερ δι᾽ ἑνος ἀνθρώπου ἡ ἁμαρτὶα εἰς τὸν κόσμον εἰσῆλθεν καὶ διὰ τῆς ἁμαρτίας ὁ θὰνατος, καὶ οὕτως εἰς πάντας ἀνθρώπους ὁ θὰνατος διῆλθεν, ἐφ᾽ ᾧ πὰντες ἥμαρτον.
Transcription: Dia touto hōsper di’ henos anthrōpou hē hamartias eis to kosmon eisēlthen kai dia tēs hamartias ho thanatos, kai houtōs eis pantas anthrōpous ho thanatos diēlthen, eph’ hōi pantes hēmarton.
A fairly easy verse to follow until one reaches the final four words, whose precise meaning is already obscure, and whose notoriously defective rendering in the Latin Vulgate (in quo omnes peccaverunt) constitutes one of the most consequential mistranslations in Christian history. The phrase ἐφ᾽ ᾧ (eph’ hōi) is not some kind of simple adverbial formula like the διὰ τοῦτο (dia touto) (“therefore”) with which the verse begins; literally, ἐφ᾽ ᾧ means “upon which,” “whereupon,” but how to understand this is a matter of some debate. Typically, as the pronoun ᾧ is dative masculine, it would be referred back to the most immediate prior masculine noun, which in this case is θάνατος (thanatos), “death,” and would be taken to mean (correctly, I believe) that the consequence of death spreading to all human beings is that all became sinners. The standard Latin version of the verse makes this reading impossible, for two reasons: first, it retains the masculine gender of the pronoun (quo) but renders θάνατος by the feminine noun mors, thus severing any connection that Paul might have intended between them; second, it uses the preposition in, which when paired with the ablative means “within.” Hence what became the standard reading of the verse in much of Western theology after the late fourth century: “in whom [i.e., Adam] all sinned.” This is the locus classicus of the Western Christian notion of original guilt—the idea that in some sense all human beings had sinned in Adam, and that therefore everyone is born already damnably guilty in the eyes of God—a logical and moral paradox that Eastern tradition was spared by its knowledge of Greek. Paul speaks of death and sin as a kind of contagion here, a disease with which all are born; and elsewhere he describes it as a condition like civil enslavement to an unjust master, from which we must be “redeemed” with a manumission fee; but never as an inherited condition of criminal culpability. It has become more or less standard to render ἐφ᾽ ᾧ as “inasmuch as” or “since,” thus suggesting that death spread to all because all sinned. But this reading seems to make little sense: not only does it evacuate the rest of the verse of its meaning, but it is contradicted just below by v. 14, where Paul makes it clear that the universal reign of death takes in both those who have sinned and those who have not. Other interpretations take the ἐφ᾽ ᾧ as referring back to Adam, not as in the Latin mistranslation but in the sense that all have sinned “because of” the first man; this, though, fails to honor the point Paul seems obviously to be making about the intimate connection between the disease of death and the contagion of sin (and vice versa). The most obvious and, I think, likely reading is that, in this verse, a parallelism (something for which Paul has such a marked predilection) is given in a chiastic form: just as sin entered into the cosmos and introduced death into all its members, so the contagion of death spread into the whole of humanity and introduced sin into all its members. This, as we see in Romans and elsewhere, is for Paul the very dynamism of death and sin that is reversed in Christ: by his triumphant righteousness he introduced eternal life into the cosmos, and so as that life spreads into the whole of humanity it makes all righteous (as in vv. 15–19 below, or as in 1 Corinthians 15:20–28).[2]
[1] Hart, David Bentley. The New Testament: A Translation (p.296). Yale University Press. 2017
[2] ibid., p.319
The Four Text-Types of NT Textual Criticism
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Ancient Christian Manuscripts, First Thoughts, New Nuggets, Theology on March 12, 2026
The four main text-types in New Testament textual criticism are the Alexandrian, Western, Byzantine, and Caesarean. These categories help scholars analyze and compare the thousands of existing manuscripts to reconstruct the original text.
Textual criticism of the New Testament categorizes manuscripts into several text types. The four main text types are:
1. Alexandrian Text-Type
- Date: 2nd–4th centuries CE
- Characteristics: Generally shorter readings, fewer expansions or paraphrases, and more abrupt readings. It is often considered more reliable than other text types. RSV, NRSV, ESV, NASB, NIV, and LEB Bibles are based on Alexandrian-type manuscripts.
2. Western Text-Type
- Date: 2nd–9th centuries CE
- Characteristics: Known for paraphrasing and free alterations. Scribes often changed words and clauses to enhance clarity and meaning. Witnessed in Latin and Syriac translations of the Greek, mainly in the Western Roman Empire.
3. Byzantine Text-Type
- Date: 4th century onward
- Characteristics: Characterized by a larger number of surviving manuscripts. It tends to have more expansions and harmonizations, reflecting a later formalization of the text. The King James and virtually all Reformation-era Bibles are based on Byzantine-Type manuscripts.
4. Caesarean Text-Type
- Date: 3rd–4th centuries CE
- Characteristics: A less common type that exhibits features of both the Alexandrian and Western text types. It is primarily associated with the region of Caesarea Maritima in Judea.
These text types help scholars classify and understand the variations in the New Testament manuscripts and work towards reconstructing the original text.
Major New Testament Text‑Types
| Text‑Type | Key Features | Comments |
| Alexandrian | Earliest, concise, less harmonized; includes Codices Vaticanus & Sinaiticus | Most reliable overall. Basis for RSV, NRSV, ESV, NASB, NIV, and LEB Bibles |
| Western | Paraphrastic, expansions, unique readings (e.g., Codex Bezae) | Valuable but secondary |
| Byzantine | Majority of later manuscripts; smoother, harmonized | Least reliable for earliest text. Basis for King James and Reformation era Bibles |
| Caesarean (disputed) | Regional; mixed features; mostly in Gospels | Interesting but not primary |
David Bentley Hart: “Traditio Deformis – The long history of defective Christian scriptural exegesis occasioned by problematic translations”
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Ancient Christian Manuscripts, New Nuggets, Theology on March 8, 2026

David Bentley Hart (born 1965) is an American Orthodox Christian philosophical theologian, cultural commentator and polemicist. Here, in one short essay published in “First Things” in May 2015, Prof. Hart addresses, “The long history of defective Christian scriptural exegesis occasioned by problematic translations”.
The long history of defective Christian scriptural exegesis occasioned by problematic translations is a luxuriant one, and its riches are too numerous and exquisitely various adequately to classify. But I think one can arrange most of them along a single continuum in four broad divisions: some misreadings are caused by a translator’s error, others by merely questionable renderings of certain words, others by the unfamiliarity of the original author’s (historically specific) idiom, and still others by the “untranslatable” remoteness of the author’s own (culturally specific) theological concerns. And each kind comes with its own special perils and consequences.
But let me illustrate. Take, for example, Augustine’s magisterial reading of the Letter to the Romans, as unfolded in reams of his writings, and ever thereafter by his theological heirs: perhaps the most sublime “strong misreading” in the history of Christian thought, and one that comprises specimens of all four classes of misprision. Of the first, for instance: the notoriously misleading Latin rendering of Romans 5:12 that deceived Augustine into imagining Paul believed all human beings to have, in some mysterious manner, sinned “in” Adam, which obliged Augustine to think of original sin—bondage to death, mental and moral debility, estrangement from God—ever more insistently in terms of an inherited guilt (a concept as logically coherent as that of a square circle), and which prompted him to assert with such sinewy vigor the justly eternal torment of babes who died unbaptized. And of the second: the way, for instance, Augustine’s misunderstanding of Paul’s theology of election was abetted by the simple contingency of a verb as weak as the Greek proorizein (“sketching out beforehand,” “planning,” etc.) being rendered as praedestinare—etymologically defensible, but connotatively impossible. And of the third: Augustine’s frequent failure to appreciate the degree to which, for Paul, the “works” (erga, opera) he contradistinguishes from faith are works of the Mosaic law, “observances” (circumcision, kosher regulations, and so on). And of the fourth—well, the evidences abound: Augustine’s attempt to reverse the first two terms in the order of election laid out in Romans 8:29–30 (“Whom he foreknew he also marked out beforehand”); or his eagerness, when citing Romans 5:18, to quote the protasis (“Just as one man’s offence led to condemnation for all men”), but his reluctance to quote the (strictly isomorphic) apodosis (“so also one man’s righteousness led to justification unto life for all men”); or, of course, his entire reading of Romans 9–11 . . .
Ah—thereby hangs a tale.
Not that Paul’s argument there is difficult to follow. What preoccupies him is the agonizing mystery that the Messiah has come, yet so few of the house of Israel have accepted him, while so many Gentiles—outside the covenant—have. What then of God’s faithfulness to his promises? It is not an abstract question regarding who is “saved” and who “damned”: By the end of chapter 11, the former category proves to be vastly larger than that of the “elect,” or the “called,” while the latter category makes no appearance at all. It is a concrete question concerning Israel and the Church. And ultimately Paul arrives at an answer drawn, ingeniously, from the logic of election in Hebrew Scripture.
Before reaching that point, however, in a completely and explicitly conditional voice, he limns the problem in the starkest chiaroscuro. We know, he says, that divine election is God’s work alone, not earned but given; it is not by their merit that Gentile believers have been chosen. “Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated” (9:13)—here quoting Malachi, for whom Jacob is the type of Israel and Esau the type of Edom. For his own ends, God hardened Pharaoh’s heart. He has mercy on whom he will, hardens whom he will (9:15–18). If you think this unjust, who are you, O man, to reproach God who made you? May not the potter cast his clay for purposes both high and low, as he chooses (9:19–21)? And, so, what if (ei de, quod si) God should show his power by preparing vessels of wrath, solely for destruction, to provide an instructive counterpoint to the riches of the glory he lavishes on vessels prepared for mercy, whom he has called from among the Jews and the Gentiles alike (9:22–24)? Perhaps that is simply how it is: The elect alone are to be saved, and the rest left reprobate, as a display of divine might; God’s faithfulness is his own affair.
Well, so far, so Augustinian. But so also, again, purely conditional: “What if . . . ?” Rather than offering a solution to the quandary that torments him, Paul is simply restating it in its bleakest possible form, at the very brink of despair. But then, instead of stopping here, he continues to question God’s justice after all, and spends the next two chapters unambiguously rejecting this provisional answer altogether, in order to reach a completely different—and far more glorious—conclusion.
Throughout the book of Genesis, the pattern of God’s election is persistently, even perversely antinomian: Ever and again the elder to whom the birthright properly belongs is supplanted by the younger, whom God has chosen in defiance of all natural “justice.” This is practically the running motif uniting the whole text, from Cain and Abel to Manasseh and Ephraim. But—this is crucial—it is a pattern not of exclusion and inclusion, but of a delay and divagation that immensely widens the scope of election, taking in the brother “justly” left out in such a way as to redound to the good of the brother “unjustly” pretermitted. This is clearest in the stories of Jacob and of Joseph, and it is why Esau and Jacob provide so apt a typology for Paul’s argument. For Esau is not finally rejected; the brothers are reconciled, to the increase of both precisely because of their temporary estrangement. And Jacob says to Esau (not the reverse), “Seeing your face is like seeing God’s.”
And so Paul proceeds. In the case of Israel and the Church, election has become even more literally “antinomian”: Christ is the end of the law so that all may attain righteousness, leaving no difference between Jew and Gentile; thus God blesses everyone (10:11–12). As for the believing “remnant” of Israel (11:5), they are elected not as the number of the “saved,” but as the earnest through which all of Israel will be saved (11:26), the part that makes the totality holy (11:16). And, again, the providential ellipticality of election’s course vastly widens its embrace: For now, part of Israel is hardened, but only until the “full entirety” (pleroma) of the Gentiles enter in; they have not been allowed to stumble only to fall, however, and if their failure now enriches the world, how much more so will their own “full entirety” (pleroma); temporarily rejected for “the world’s reconciliation,” they will undergo a restoration that will be a “resurrection from the dead” (11:11–12, 15).
This, then, is the radiant answer dispelling the shadows of Paul’s grim “what if,” the clarion negative: There is no final “illustrative” division between vessels of wrath and of mercy; God has bound everyone in disobedience so as to show mercy to everyone (11:32); all are vessels of wrath so that all may be made vessels of mercy.
Not that one can ever, apparently, be explicit enough. One classic Augustinian construal of Romans 11, particularly in the Reformed tradition, is to claim that Paul’s seemingly extravagant language—“all,” “full entirety,” “the world,” and so on—really still means just that all peoples are saved only in the “exemplary” or “representative” form of the elect. This is, of course, absurd. Paul is clear that it is those not called forth, those allowed to stumble, who will still never be allowed to fall. Such a reading would simply leave Paul in the darkness where he began, reduce his glorious discovery to a dreary tautology, convert his magnificent vision of the vast reach of divine love into a ludicrous cartoon of its squalid narrowness. Yet, on the whole, the Augustinian tradition on these texts has been so broad and mighty that it has, for millions of Christians, effectively evacuated Paul’s argument of all its real content. It ultimately made possible those spasms of theological and moral nihilism that prompted John Calvin to claim (in book 3 of The Institutes) that God predestined even the Fall, and (in his commentary on 1 John) that love belongs not to God’s essence, but only to how the elect experience him. Sic transit gloria Evangelii. I have to say that, as an Orthodox scholar, I have made many efforts over the years to defend Augustine against what I take to be defective and purely polemical Eastern interpretations of his thought, in the realms of metaphysics, Trinitarian theology, and the soul’s knowledge of God (often to the annoyance of some of my fellow Orthodox). But regarding that part of his intellectual patrimony that has had the widest effect—his understanding of sin, grace, and election—not only do I share the Eastern distaste for (or, frankly, horror at) his conclusions; I am even something of an extremist in that respect. In the whole long, rich history of Christian misreadings of Scripture, none I think has ever been more consequential, more invincibly perennial, or more disastrous.
Dostoyevsky: “… all-embracing love.”
Posted by Dallas Wolf in First Thoughts, Heaven and Hell, New Nuggets, Theology, Universal Restoration (Apokatastasis) on March 6, 2026
Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1821 – 1881) – Russian novelist, short story writer, essayist, journalist, and philosopher.

“Love [people] even in [their] sin, for that is the semblance of Divine Love and is the highest love on earth. Love all God’s creation, the whole and every grain of sand in it. Love every leaf, every ray of God’s light. Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you have perceived it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day. And you will come at last to love the whole world with an all-embracing love.”
—Fyodor Dostoyevsky, from The Brothers Karamazov
Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM: “Jesus the Prophet”
Posted by Dallas Wolf in Ekklesia and church, New Nuggets, Theology on October 15, 2025
In a homily Father Richard Rohr, OFM, describes the tension between priestly and prophetic tasks—both necessary for healthy religion:

There are two great strains of spiritual teachers in Judaism, and I think, if the truth is told, in all religions. There’s the priestly strain that holds the system together by repeating the tradition. The one we’re less familiar with is the prophetic strain, because that one hasn’t been quite as accepted. Prophets are critical of the very system that the priests maintain.
If we have both, we have a certain kind of wholeness or integrity. If we just have priests, we keep repeating the party line and everything is about loyalty, conformity, and following the rules—and that looks like religion. But if we have the priest and the prophet, we have a system constantly refining itself and correcting itself from within. Those two strains very seldom come together. We see it in Moses, who both gathers Israel, and yet is the most critical of his own people. We see it again in Jesus, who loves his people and his Jewish religion, but is lethally critical of hypocrisy and illusion and deceit (see Matthew 23; Luke 11:37–12:3).
Choctaw elder and Episcopal bishop Steven Charleston considers how Jesus invited others to share in his prophetic vision:
Jesus … saw a vision that became an invitation for people to claim a new identity, to enter into a new sense of community.… Jesus offered the promise of justice, healing, and redemption.… Jesus became the prophetic teacher of a spiritual renewal for the poor and the oppressed…. Jesus was more than just the recipient of a vision or the messenger of a vision. What sets Jesus apart is that he brought the elements of his vision quest together in a way that no one else had ever done….
“This is my body,” he told them. “This is my blood.” For him, the culmination of his vision was not just the messiahship of believing in him as a prophet. Through the Eucharist, Jesus was not just offering people a chance to see his vision, but to become a part of it by becoming a part of him.
Richard honors the role of prophets in religious systems:
The only way evil can succeed is to disguise itself as good. And one of the best disguises for evil is religion. Someone can be racist, be against the poor, hate immigrants, and be totally concerned about making money and being a materialist but still go to church each Sunday and be “justified” in the eyes of religion.
Those are the things that prophets point out, so prophets aren’t nearly as popular as priests. Priests keep repeating the party line, but prophets do both: they put together the best of the conservative with the best of the liberal, to use contemporary language. They honor the tradition, and they also say what’s phony about the tradition. That’s what fully spiritually mature people can do.
Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditation – Monday, October 13, 2025

