By Alex Fogleman
Around the turn of the fifth century, the translator and theologian Rufinus of Aquileia penned what would become one of the most influential commentaries on the Apostles’ Creed. Best known as the Latin translator of many of Origen’s works, Rufinus wrote the Commentary on the Apostles’ Creed as an exposition of the Aquileian baptismal creed, drawing on the catechetical writings of Cyril of Jerusalem and Gregory of Nyssa. It is noteworthy that he comments on his local creed, even though it had been 75 years since Nicaea and around 25 years after the Council of Constantinople. Despite all the fanfare over Nicaea and other ecumenical formulations, an exposition of the local baptismal creed was still at the forefront of commentary for the purposes of baptismal instruction (Augustine and Ambrose do the same). This in itself is a testimony to the weight of liturgical and catechetical traditions.
This is not to say that Rufinus is uninterested in pro-Nicene theology. As scholars like D. H. Williams and Lewis Ayres have argued, Rufinus’s Commentary shows a persistent concern to shape a reading of the baptismal creed according to pro-Nicene theological principles. Drawing on Williams’ earlier article, “Nicaea, Constantine, and the ‘Fall’ of the Church,” Ayres turns to Rufinus’ Commentary as an example of “pro-Nicene reading strategies” in his masterful Nicaea and its Legacy (OUP, 2004). Pro-Nicene theologians exhibited many of the shared reading practices of fourth-century Christians—such as certain grammatical and figurative habits and reading all Scripture as providentially ordained for Christian edification—but gave a certain pro-Nicene “twists” to their readings. Ayres writes:
In most important ways pro-Nicene reading practices are simply those shared by virtually all Christian readers in the fourth century. The distinctive character of pro-Nicene exegesis is to be found in subtle twists given to common reading practices, and in links drawn between these reading practices and the principles of pro‐Nicene Trinitarianism. . . . Like almost all early Christian writers, pro-Nicenes read Scripture as a providentially ordained resource for the Christian imagination. It is an intrinsic part of Scripture's purpose to enable description of the God who acts and of the structure of the cosmos within which God acts: the reshaping of the cosmological imagination is a central aspect of the Incarnate Word’s mission. Scripture shapes the description of the journey in the Church and in Christ toward full sight of the divine glory. (Ayres, Nicaea, 335–36)
One such twist is the different “skopos” that pro-Nicenes gave to the reading of Scripture. Skopos refers to Scripture’s Spirit-inspired aim or intent (on this term, see Frances Young’s Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture). One learns the skopos of Scripture especially through rules of faith or other credal formulae, which provide a condensed theological vision of Scripture’s totality. Ayres again:
Interpretation of Scripture is governed by a pro-Nicene rule of faith. Creeds, pre-existing rules of faith, and passages of Scripture traditionally used as hermeneutical keys, are all given a pro‐Nicene cast. This reshaping enables a subtle shifting of how the σκοπός of Scripture is understood and, in turn, how one understands the σκοπός of Scripture will influence how one understands the function and the very texture of the text—its manner of signifying, its perspicacity, the character of the faith we should place in it. We may see this particularly clearly in catechetical contexts. Although, well past the end of the fourth century, the Nicene-Constantinopolitan creed was not used directly in catechetical or liturgical contexts, pro-Nicene faith was conveyed to catechumens through commentary on existing local baptismal creeds.
Turning to Rufinus, Ayres notes in particular his interpretation of the meaning of “Father” in the creed’s first clause. Rufinus writes:
Thus, the very title by which God is called ‘Father’ proves that a Son coexists side by side (pariter subsistere) with the Father. I would rather, however, you did not discuss how God the Father generated the Son, and did not plunge too inquisitively into the depths of the mystery. There is a danger that, in prying too persistently into the brightness of inaccessible light, you may find yourself deprived of the tiny glimpse (exiguum ipsum) which is all the good God vouchsafes to mortals. Alternatively, if you judge this a subject which justifies every sort of scrutiny, first employ your mind on things which concern ourselves . . . . First of all explain, if you can, how the mind within you generates its word, and what the spirit of memory in your mind is. Explain how these, for all their diversity in reality and operation, form a unity in substance or nature . . . [other examples follow]. Even if you can explain each of these mysteries, you must realize that the mystery of divine generation is different from and loftier than they in proportion as the Creator is more powerful than His creatures . . . . We must believe, then, without argument, that God is Father of his only-begotten Son, our Lord . . . [scriptural texts follow]. Is anyone entitled to thrust himself argumentatively between these statements of the Father and the Son, dividing the Godhead . . . denying the truth of what the Truth affirms? (Rufinus, Commentary on the Creed 4, quoted in Ayres, Nicaea, 336–37)
What is especially noteworthy in this passage is Rufinus’ effort to shape a mode of theological reasoning about Scripture. Given certain metaphysical commitments about the nature of divine being and corollary views of Scripture’s purpose in engaging creaturely persons in life towards God, the learning of the creed takes on certain spiritual dynamics. I really like this summary that Ayres provides:
Rufinus wishes his catechumens to hear scriptural discussion of Father and Son as inviting the deployment of a notion of mystery shaped by pro-Nicene principles. Rufinus attempts to shape his catechumens’ imaginations to hear the words of Scripture both in the light of pro-Nicene principles and as a text comprehensible only in the light of a particular spiritual transformation. Thus it is not precise enough to say that Rufinus wishes the text to be heard as pro-Nicene in theology: he wishes the text to be heard and read as a particular type of text, a text whose meaning is intertwined with a spiritual ascent that it itself teaches. (Ayres, Nicaea, 337)
One of the key tasks of catechesis involves learning the skopos of Scripture. However, this is a more complex activity than simply teaching someone the contents and meaning of the creed. It involves a certain kind of formation in what it means to live and read the world spiritually and scripturally. The creed comes to be seen not simply as a text that can be read like any other text. Like Scripture itself, the creed is a kind of text that is bound up with the spiritual transformation that it is designed to facilitate. Or, as Ayres puts it in a later summary statement, “In Rufinus … the σκοπός of Scripture intrinsically includes the journey of the soul in Christ towards union with and understanding of the Triune Godhead” (338).
I can think of few better summary statements about what the goal of catechesis should be. What is important to see is that catechesis pertains not only to certain content, which I take to be obviously true, and certainly something that no fourth-century theologian would trivialize. In other words, you won’t hear Rufinus or other saying that doctrinal content is unimportant and what really matters is that we love God and neighbor. There is not belittling of “information” to focus on “formation.” However, precisely because of the kind of content that catechesis outlines, catechists and pastors need to attend to the mode and form of catechetical teaching. Like Rufinus, catechists should aspire that the creed and expositions of it should be heard and read as a “text whose meaning is intertwined with a spiritual ascent that it itself teaches.”
In the passage quoted from Rufinus above, he makes a reference to the “inaccessible light” of divine glory—a reference to Paul’s doxological comment that it is God “who alone has immortality, who dwells in unapproachable light, whom no one has ever seen or can see” (1 Tim. 6:16). Recognizing the incomprehensible majesty of divine glory, catechists aspire to provide a “tiny glimpse” of this divine light, which will nonetheless provide the means and the structure for Christians to be transformed into the kinds of creatures who can one day bear the the tremendous weight of glory in the final day.
“Thus it is not precise enough to say that Rufinus wishes the text to be heard as pro-Nicene in theology: he wishes the text to be heard and read as a particular type of text, a text whose meaning is intertwined with a spiritual ascent that it itself teaches. ”