Time for some scriptural anthropology, a necessary step prior to a full discussion of the persona/ethos/God trialectic. Please know at the outset that scripture is deep and wide: consequently, this post can hold only the broadest outline of this discussion. First, the title terms. "Scriptural anthropology" refers, in this discussion, to the placement and form of humanity vis-a-vis the divine realm. In scripture, "spirit" is sometimes used for the force by which God animates dusty life (God breathed the breath of life into Adam, but please note: though the verb "breathed" is derived from the same root as "spirit," the word for "breath" is from a different root) or, in the Christian New Testament, a more generically animating force. Less so in the Hebrew Bible but prevalent in the Christian New Testament, there are other (S)pirits, the daemons, that are usually wicked and that can enter a person (the usual expression is "that person has a spirit"). Finally, there is God's Spirit, in the Hebrew Bible an emanation from the Creator that "falls on" people, a careful description that is followed usually in the Christian New Testament (Mark says the Spirit entered "into" Jesus at his baptism [though your English Bibles probably translate this as "on"] whereas Luke and Matthew change that to "on") but, notably in Paul, sometimes the Spirit is said to enter "into our hearts" (Gal. 4:6). Please note: in the wider Graeco-Roman world, (S)pirits were both good and bad, the former leading to greatness ("he has a daemon" = "he has a genius," Greek "daemon" becomes Arabic "djin" becomes Latin "genius," so that, for instance, Alexander's greatness is attributed in some part to "his genius") the latter to possession, seen almost always as deplorable.
In the gospels, particularly in Mark, Jesus is reluctant to allow the (S)pirits who possess people to speak because they know who he is (leading to much literature on Mark's "messianic secret"). It's important to note that the (S)pirits have it right, apparently (though one must be careful: perhaps according to the author of Mark Jesus is wrongly named "son of God" but rightly named "son of man"): they recognize Jesus in a way few in the gospels do as one powerful in God's Spirit. If one wished to visualize this scriptural anthropology, imagine a person standing on the earth. Above that person is perhaps seven realms or spheres, with the highest being God's, from whence God's Spirit comes. In the bottom two spheres, those just above the earth (the spheres of the moon and sun), dwell the (S)pirits: they are higher than humanity, perhaps spirits from bygone heroes, more powerful (explicitly in Plutarch) than humans. Jesus commands the (S)pirits because his Spirit is way more powerful, since it's from the very top realm, God's realm. Indeed, the scribes in Mark 3 accuse Jesus not of having God's Spirit but of having the prince of (S)pirits, a sin Jesus say is eternally unforgiveable. Please note: our conception of demons crawling up from Hell underground owes more to Milton than scripture. In scripture, they are higher than humanity, not lower.
In the majority of cases in the scriptures, the Spirit comes "upon" people rather than enters into them: think of the tongues of fire falling on and resting on the disciples at Pentecost. However, the places where the Christian New Testament speaks of the spirit coming into a person are noteworthy. First, the resurrected Jesus at the end of John's gospel breathes ("infuses") the Holy Spirit into the disciples, with John using the same Greek word ("emfuso") that the Septuagint (the Greek version of the Hebrew Bible) uses in Genesis 2:7. The implication is that Jesus begins a new creation with his disciples, explicitly breathing into them not just the breath of life (they're already alive) but the Holy Spirit itself. Second, Paul in Gal. 4:6, perhaps quoting a baptismal liturgy, says that God has sent the spirit of God's Son into our hearts, leading us to cry "Abba, Father!" even as Jesus did in Gethsemane (showing Paul's conviction that we all have to suffer with Christ if we are going to be glorified with him). We should contrast this with Paul's more communal discussion of life in the Spirit in Romans 8, where each "you" is plural and God's Spirit is said to "live among you." Indeed, both "spirit" and "Spirit" are used side-by-side in Romans 8:15-16, where Paul says "When we cry, 'Abba! Father!' it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our (plural) spirit (singular) that we are children of God," after which he emphasizes that we must suffer with Christ.
I mention all this in order to forefront some of my presuppositions or, if you will, to read some of my own narrative for you, a narrative I'm explicating in this blog (your comments help show where my narrative differs from yours). And I tend to be as conservative as scripture in speaking about the spirit/(S)pirits/Spirit, reluctant to speak about the Spirit entering into us, though many of the contemporary narratives I read presume just that. I tend to see the boundary that is a person as impenetrable even by God's Spirit except in extraordinary cases of which I am skeptical. Instead, even in cases of "divine inspiration" I tend to see an engagement of personas rather than the Spirit's infusion of a person. But in this I'm straying into metaphysics rather than reading narratives, though such metaphysical presuppositions color and may even determine how I read narratives, even scriptural narratives. And here's another warning: I'm going to try to get you to say that scriptural narratives are authoritative for you in some way, then try to foist my reading - which is surely colored by my own presuppositions - on you as if it is as authoritative as scriptural narratives, a process that surely pervades most preaching.
So having put so many cards on the table, let me try to summarize a basic anthropology that underpins my discussion of the persona/ethos/God trialectic, being careful to note that I'm speaking of reading narratives rather than describing the divine/human encounter. First, the interior life of a person is truly unknowable expect as it is expressed in that person's persona: when I read a narrative about a person, I'm actually reading the social construct (which both the person and her social context help to construct) that is that person's persona. Experimentally, I want to reserve this interior life even from the divine gaze, even though scripture speaks of God knowing our very hearts: though scripture may undoubtedly be correct, the data we have derive from the persona level, not the personal level.
Second, "spirit" is, in my opinion, a good word for the animating life force. Our culture uses "life" to refer to this animating force, even though "life" can refer to one's simple biology as well as its animating force. While simple biology may actually be the only animating force we have, speaking in purely empirical terms, "life" does not capture the drive and energy, even the aggressivity, that "spirit" does. Further, "spirit" seems to cross the person/persona boundary: when we describe one's spirit (archaically, "she's a gentle spirit") we're saying something about both the person's interior life as well as their persona. That makes "spirit" - pardon the pun - a powerful, descriptive word.
Third, I tend to locate "(S)pirit" exclusively in the realm of ethos, i.e. at the intersection of two or more personas. We don't really use such a term any more, though a hundred or so years ago one could hear a person describe another by "He has a genius" rather than "He's a genius" as in our day. I find the older way more accurately since it realizes that "genius" as well as all (S)pirits are recognized and named socially, i.e. in terms of an ethos. Einstein, a well-known example, was thought of as a rather slow student until he published his work on thermodynamics and relativity, for which he was recognized by the scientific community as "a genius." Just for your reading pleasure, it's ironic - deeply so - that in the gospels those who have daemons (my (S)pirits) recognize Jesus while his followers (at least the men) do not, even more so that Jesus would take the power that recognizes him away from those so possessed, so that they become as thick and unwitting as his disciples. (S)pirits are constructs of ethoi, and we can update scriptures "powers and principalities" to our time by looking at those powerful concepts and ideas (perhaps memes, Dawkins) that can take hold of us, for instance, consumerism.
Fourth, I tend to locate Spirit as that third person of the trinity, but I do so within the same person/persona strictures. Thus, to speak of the Spirit as a "person" means that when we experience the Spirit our experience is mediated through an ethos, i.e. through the intercourse between our persona and the Spirit's persona. In other words, our experience of the Spirit is also socially constructed, perhaps not in the immediacy of the experience, but certainly in reading about that experience. Further, I tend to consider the person of the Spirit, as the person of you or me, as impenetrable: personas are so thorough-going that we cannot experience each other or the (S)pirits or the Spirit except through personas, and that means through ethoi. In short, all our experiences are particular and colored (perhaps determined) by the ethoi through which we move and breathe. Again, I'm speaking about reading narratives. Phenomenologically, I'm certainly willing to hold out the actuality of the Spirit entering a person, it's just that we can never read about that, only about the interaction of personas since even that experience, to be expressed, must be expressed in terms of persona and ethos.
Well, I've warned you before that I tend to write this way, but I hope you've been able to follow my narrative. Next post I will delve into personal prayer, itself one more step prior to considering the persona/ethos/God trialectic. Thank you for reading.
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