Answer to Jung
I was only a few pages into The Lamb of God before becoming astonished by some of the parallels I was noticing between Bulgakov and one of his contemporaries, an old intellectual acquaintance of mine: C.G. Jung. Bulgakov’s duality of hypostasis and nature, wherein the former—spirit, personality, or an awareness of oneself as an “I”—inhabits, possesses, and assimilates the latter, which is the world or content in which hypostasticity reveals itself to itself, corresponds roughly to the Jungian schematics of the ego and the (personal and collective) unconscious. But whereas Jung’s collective unconscious refers only to the shared and inherited structures of the human psyche, which then take shape in the egoic individual consciousness as images with a certain cultural and developmental specificity, Bulgakov’s creaturely “unconscious” (as opposed to the Divine Ousia that forms its proto-image)—that is, created nature—includes not only the entire psycho-corporeal content of the human body, but extends to everything that is “given”, preconscious, and opaque in its current lack of assimilation into man’s hypostatic self-awareness. That is to say, Bulgakov’s creaturely nature—our spiritual unconscious—incorporates all of creation, of which man is a microcosm:
“Man is a 'microcosm,' and his imprint therefore lies upon the entire world, the macrocosm. The world has its fullness and pinnacle in man, who is the logos of the world...there is and can be nothing in the world in which humanity does not participate, nothing to which man's knowledge, feeling, and will cannot extend...[T]he whole world is man's potential and peripheral body.”
Jung inhabited a Darwinian world in which the meager flickerings of human consciousness—our “light of meaning” kindled “in the darkness of mere being”—were destined always to be overshadowed by the vastness and opacity of the unconscious, which represented millions of years of genetic sedimentation and to which one was obliged to offer propitiation in order to retain some measure of psychic integrity. To be sure, Jung believed in the emancipatory potential of the individuation process, but this mostly entailed a passive reception of subconscious contents into conscious life, and the immutable bigness of nature relative to conscious human volition was taken as a matter of course. The order of men could negotiate a fragile truce with the chaos of nature, but order was always collapsing into chaos, which enveloped and suffused it as eternity does time, preceding it ontogenically. Jung was a philosopher of what Bulgakov called “the fallen Sophia.”
Bulgakov’s world, by contrast, was one made in the image of trihypostatic Divine self-consciousness (“I AM that I AM”); a world of bodiless angels and God-breathed human spirit called to imagistic hypostaticity; one in which spirit preceded creation both pre-eternally and hierarchically, the proper telos of nature was to be hypostatized and made transparent to the dynamic outward self-positing of created spirit, and the perceived superiority of nature to spirit-consciousness, the appraisal of nature as an end-in-itself in a false extrahypostatic self-sufficiency, was an illusion reified by man’s refusal of his calling to humanize the cosmos.
Both men were also notable for their desire to recognize a feminine principle within the Divinity. Jung, the disaffected Protestant, lamented what he viewed as a longstanding refusal on the part of the institutional Church to elevate the earthly Bride of Christ, personified by Mary, to its proper coequality with the Holy Trinity. He celebrated Pope Pius XII’s dogmatic promulgation of the Assumption of Mary in 1950 as the most important event in Church history since the Reformation; one that effectively “quaternized” the Trinity and allowed the Divine consciousness to assimilate the earthy, receptive feminine rather than expelling it from the conscious life of the Church to the shadow realm, where it had thus come to be identified with the satanic. By formally recognizing the Divine Feminine, which had already been an object of devotion among the laity for a thousand years, the Catholic Church had gained a dogmatic leg up on a Protestant world that remained, in Jung’s view, stubbornly Christocentric:
“One could have known for a long time that there was a deep longing in the masses for an intercessor and mediatrix who would at last take her place alongside the Holy Trinity and be received as the ‘Queen of Heaven and Bride at the heavenly court.’ For more than a thousand years it had been taken for granted that the Mother of God dwelt there, and we know from the Old Testament that Sophia was with God before the creation. From the ancient Egyptian theology of the divine Pharaohs we know that God wants to become man by means of a human mother, and it was recognized even in prehistoric times that the primordial divine being is both male and female…It is psychologically significant for our day that in the year 1950 the heavenly bride was united with the bride-groom.” (Answer to Job)
Bulgakov’s sophiology is both more radical and more respectful of Christian orthodoxy, despite its being deemed heretical by the Russian Orthodox Church and remaining controversial today; and it has the additional benefit of providing some positive and elaborative content to the negative Chalcedonian dogma of the simultaneous inseparability and inconfusability of the divine and human natures in Christ. Bulgakov identifies Sophia, the Wisdom and Glory of God, with the singular divine substance, essence, nature, or ousia; the One Substance that the Three Hypostases of the Holy Trinity share. Sophia is not an hypostasis to be “counted” among the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, but is rather that which is hypostatized by the Divine Triunity, or hypostatizability as such. Within the Divinity, the Divine Sophia is eternally hypostatized by the Trinity and transparent to it. She is the Divine World, of which the Son-Logos, by the Father and in the Holy Spirit, takes eternal possession in a movement of Self-giving love. As the work of God in creation is “to repeat Himself, as it were, to make an image of Himself outside Himself,” whereby God spills out of Himself into extradivine being to exhaust the possibilities of love—thus making God both the Absolute in Himself and the Absolute-Relative in relation to creation, as Saint Gregory Palamas articulated with his essence-energies distinction—the Divine World is thus the foundation and entelechy of the creaturely world; and since the creaturely world has its spiritual center in man, who is its microcosm, the Divine Sophia is therefore the pre-eternal humanity as well.
An operative scriptural passage here is Proverbs 8:22-31, in which Wisdom declares:
“The LORD possessed me at the beginning of his work,
the first of his acts of old.
Ages ago I was set up,
at the first, before the beginning of the earth.
When there were no depths I was brought forth,
when there were no springs abounding with water.
Before the mountains had been shaped,
before the hills, I was brought forth,
before he had made the earth with its fields,
or the first of the dust of the world.
When he established the heavens, I was there;
when he drew a circle on the face of the deep,
when he made firm the skies above,
when he established the fountains of the deep,
when he assigned to the sea its limit,
so that the waters might not transgress his command,
when he marked out the foundations of the earth,
then I was beside him, like a master workman,
and I was daily his delight,
rejoicing before him always,
rejoicing in his inhabited world
and delighting in the children of man.”
There is one Sophia with two modalities: divine being and creaturely becoming. This mutual sophianicity of the divine and human worlds, or natures, is precisely the foundation of their commensurability; it is what allows both natures to be hypostatized in the singular person of Christ, whose Incarnation, besides being a profound work of condescension and self-humiliation by the Son of God, represents “an adoption of the hypostasis of the Logos by the human race.” This emergence and newfound accessibility of the Logos in the creaturely world of multiplicity and becoming, which is now united with the divine world in Christ the God-Man without separation or confusion, constitutes an ongoing redemption and deification of the human race, which now has the ability to share in this divine-human life and to attain the fulfillment of its sophianic proto-image.
The New Adam, sojourning in creation and taking the full weight and consequence of the sins of the world into Himself, fulfilled man’s calling to hypostatize the world—and thus deify himself—by positing himself in all of humanity, and thereby in all of creation. By failing to embrace the All-Humanity that Christ is—by refusing to take the All into himself and instead living in individuated inwardness, thereby abandoning his call to hypostatize the cosmos and subordinating his spirit to nature, which thus became an end in itself—the Old Adam, in keeping with the enigmatic Johannine formulation of Christ as the “Lamb slain from the foundation [“throwing down”] of the world,” thus fell by balking at the scandal of the Cross.
Utilizing what I would describe as a Nyssen understanding of the divine kenosis in Christ, Bulgakov articulated a deeply Chalcedonian Christology. Chalcedon represented a dogmatic dialectical synthesis between the school of Alexandria (St. Cyril), which tended toward Monophysitism and Docetism, and that of Antioch (Theodore of Mopsuestia, Nestorius), which tended toward a “Nestorian” division between the natures of Christ. Bulgakov produced a strikingly clear picture of what Chalcedon defined dogmatically but the tradition was not quite able to articulate theologically: that in Christ the divine and human natures are truly united in the singular Hypostasis of the Logos, but without the divinity of Christ obliterating His humanity and turning His life into a Disneyland ride stripped of authentic human freedom, limitedness, growth, and accomplishment. The human feats of Christ—His real conquest of temptations, His real feats of asceticism, His real acceptance of spiritual death at Gethsemane and bodily death at Golgotha—increased the capacity of His human nature (and ours) to “encompass” the fullness of His divinity (and ours, in Christ):
“[Christ’s] divinity empties itself in immersing itself in the depths of the human essence; and His divinity shines forth in the human essence only to the extent that the latter encompasses the divinity’s self-revelation, correspondingly being deified by it. The Holy Spirit reveals in Jesus His proper divine depths.”
The Lord’s work, fulfilled as Prophet and Priest yet ongoing as King while He subjects all things to Himself, is not the work of God alone in His absoluteness nor two separate works of God and man; neither a divine coercion nor an alliance of divine and human persons. It is precisely the work of the God-Man, the efflorescence of the Divine-Humanity for the sake of Whose Incarnation the world came into being.
A work of orthodox daring.