Our opponents say, “The word ‘in’ is precisely suited to the Spirit and is sufficient for every conception concerning him. Why, then, have you introduced this new expression, saying ‘with the Spirit’ instead of ‘in the Holy Spirit,’ using a phrase that is unnecessary and has no established use in the churches?”
In the earlier part of this treatise I have already shown that “in” is not a word assigned especially to the Holy Spirit, but is also used of the Father and the Son. I think I have also shown sufficiently that, far from taking anything away from the Spirit’s dignity, the expression leads everyone whose mind has not been utterly distorted to the highest conception of him.
It remains, then, to trace the origin of the word “with,” to explain its force, and to show that it agrees with Scripture.
Among the dogmas and proclamations preserved in the Church, some we possess from written teaching, while others we have received from apostolic tradition, handed down to us in mystery. Both have the same force with respect to true religion. No one will contradict this—at least no one who has even modest experience of the institutions of the Church.
For if we attempted to reject customs that have no written authority on the ground that they have little importance, we would unknowingly damage the Gospel in its very essentials—or rather, reduce the public proclamation to little more than words.
To begin with the first and most familiar example: what written text has taught us to mark with the sign of the cross those who have put their hope in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ? What writing taught us to turn toward the East when we pray? Which of the saints has left us in writing the words of invocation used at the showing of the Eucharistic bread and the cup of blessing? We are not content with the words recorded by the Apostle or the Gospel; before and after them we say other things which we regard as having great importance for the mystery, and these we have received from unwritten teaching.
Likewise, we bless the water of baptism and the oil of anointing, and also the person being baptized. By what written texts? Is it not by silent and mystical tradition? And the anointing with oil itself—what written word taught us that? Where is it written that a person is to be immersed three times? And the other things connected with baptism—the renunciation of Satan and his angels—from what Scripture do they come? Do they not come from that unpublished and secret teaching which our fathers preserved in silence, protected from meddling curiosity and idle investigation? They had learned well that the solemn dignity of the mysteries is preserved by silence. What the uninitiated were not permitted even to look upon was hardly likely to be publicly displayed in written documents.
What did the great Moses intend when he did not make every part of the tabernacle accessible to everyone? He placed the profane outside the sacred enclosure; he admitted the purer to the first courts; he judged only the Levites worthy to serve God; sacrifices, whole burnt offerings, and the other priestly ministries he assigned to the priests. One man chosen from all he admitted into the innermost sanctuary, and not at all times, but on only one day of the year; and even on that day a fixed time was appointed for his entrance, so that the unfamiliarity and strangeness of the sight might fill him with awe.
Moses knew well that familiarity can breed contempt for what becomes commonplace and obvious, while what is unusual and unfamiliar naturally awakens attentive reverence. In the same way, the Apostles and Fathers who from the beginning established the ordinances of the Church guarded the solemn dignity of the mysteries in secrecy and silence. What is broadcast indiscriminately among the crowd is no mystery at all.
This is the reason why certain teachings and practices have been handed down to us without writing: so that the knowledge of the dogmas may not, through familiarity, become neglected and despised by the multitude. Dogma and proclamation are not the same thing. Dogma is kept in silence; proclamation is announced publicly. One form of this silence is the obscurity Scripture itself sometimes employs, making the meaning of dogmas difficult to grasp for the reader’s own benefit.
For example, we all face East when we pray, but few know that in doing so we are seeking our ancient homeland, Paradise, which God planted in Eden toward the East. We also pray standing on the first day of the week, but not all know the reason. On the day of resurrection—literally, of “standing again”—we remind ourselves of the grace given to us by standing at prayer, not only because we have risen with Christ and are bound to “seek the things above,” but also because this day seems to us in some way an image of the age we await.
For this reason, although it is the beginning of the days, Moses did not call it the “first” day but “one” day: “There was evening and there was morning, one day,” as though it were always the same day returning. This “one” is also the “eighth,” pointing in itself to that truly one and eighth day mentioned in certain titles of the Psalms: the state that follows this present age, the day that knows no evening, decline, or successor—the age that neither ends nor grows old.
The Church therefore necessarily teaches her own children to offer their prayers standing on that day, so that by this constant reminder of endless life we may not neglect to prepare for our departure into it.
The whole season of Pentecost is likewise a reminder of the resurrection expected in the age to come. For that one and first day, multiplied seven times by seven, completes the seven weeks of holy Pentecost. Beginning from the first, it ends with the same day after passing through fifty days in a circular course. Thus it is an image of eternity, beginning and ending at the same point. On this season the ordinances of the Church have taught us to prefer the upright posture of prayer, so that by this visible reminder our mind may be transferred, as it were, from the present to the future.
And every time we bend our knees and rise again, we show by our action that through sin we fell to the earth and through the loving-kindness of our Creator were called back to heaven.
Time would fail me if I tried to recount all the unwritten mysteries of the Church. I leave the rest aside. But the very confession of faith in Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—from what written text do we possess it?
If it comes from the tradition of baptism, and if the consistent order of true religion requires us to believe as we are baptized and to make a confession corresponding to our baptism, then let our opponents allow us, by the same consistency, to render a doxology corresponding to our faith. But if they reject the form of the doxology because it is unwritten, let them give us written proofs both for the confession of faith itself and for the other practices we have just enumerated.
When so many unwritten traditions possess such force within the mystery of true religion, will they refuse us one expression handed down from the Fathers to us—an expression we found preserved by simple custom in churches that had remained uncorrupted, and one supported by no slight reasoning and contributing no small force to the meaning of the mystery?
The force of each expression has now been explained, and I will again state where they agree and where they differ. They are not opposed to each other as though in contradiction; rather, each contributes its own proper meaning to true religion.
“In” refers chiefly to the Spirit’s relation to us, while “with” proclaims the Spirit’s communion with God. For this reason we use both expressions: with one we set forth the Spirit’s dignity, and with the other we proclaim the grace he works among us. Thus we offer glory to God both “in the Spirit” and “with the Spirit.” In doing so we invent nothing of our own. Taking the Lord’s teaching as a rule, we carry his wording over to what follows from it, belongs with it, and is necessarily joined with it in the mysteries.
The one who was numbered together with the Father and the Son in baptism, we have judged must also be joined with them in the confession of faith; and we have made the confession of faith, as it were, the beginning and mother of the doxology.
What, then, are we to do? Let our opponents teach us either not to baptize as we have received, or not to believe as we were baptized, or not to glorify as we have believed. Let someone show either that the sequence among these things is not necessary and unbroken, or that innovation in them does not amount to the overthrow of the whole.
Yet they never cease repeating that the doxology “with the Holy Spirit” is unattested, unwritten, and whatever else they wish to call it. We have already said that, as far as the meaning is concerned, “Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit” is equivalent to “Glory to the Father and to the Son with the Holy Spirit.” No one can reject or erase the conjunction “and,” since it comes from the Lord’s own words; and nothing prevents us from accepting an expression equivalent to it. We have already shown in what respect the two forms differ and in what respect they are alike.
The Apostle also confirms our argument by using both forms without distinction. At one point he says, “in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God,” and at another, “when you are assembled, and my spirit, with the power of our Lord Jesus.” He plainly does not consider it significant, for the joining of the names, whether the conjunction or the preposition is used.