@joey jojo
Thank you for the response—your skepticism is honest, and I appreciate the opportunity to clarify further. I understand how the phrasing "not a what but a who" might sound humorous or even absurd when heard through the lens of modern speech or pop culture. But I’d ask you to pause for a moment and consider that we are speaking here not of a creature or a physical entity, but of the infinite, transcendent God—whose very nature is beyond complete human comprehension, yet who has revealed Himself in Scripture as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. When I wrote that the Holy Spirit is "not a what but a who," I meant precisely this: the Holy Spirit is not a thing, not an impersonal force, not a symbolic metaphor, but a divine person. Not “a person” in the modern psychological sense (e.g., someone with a Myers-Briggs type or quirks), but in the classical theological sense—as a subsistent relation within the one undivided divine essence. Now, let’s unpack this more carefully—not for the sake of clever wordplay, but for the sake of reverence and truth.
Yes, it’s absolutely true—and not merely convenient—that the word “person” in Trinitarian theology does not mean what it typically means in modern speech. And this isn't some post hoc rationalization; it’s part of a long and careful intellectual tradition reaching back to the early Church and articulated most profoundly by St. Thomas Aquinas and the scholastic theologians. When you or I say “person” today, we often mean “a center of consciousness,” or “a psychological being with preferences, emotions, and a personality.” But this modern definition comes from post-Enlightenment developments and doesn’t work when describing the inner life of God. Why? Because if we applied this meaning to God, we would end up with three minds, three wills, three essences—which is tritheism, not monotheism. Instead, in classical theology—especially as developed by Boethius and Aquinas—a person is defined as: "An individual substance of a rational nature" (Boethius, De Persona et Duabus Naturis). But in God, we must go further: since God is one undivided being (actus purus), the Persons are not separate beings or minds. Rather, the term "Person" in God refers to a real relation within the divine essence. The Father is not the Son, and the Son is not the Holy Spirit—but they are not divided in nature. They are distinct only in terms of origin and relation:
- The Father is unbegotten.
- The Son is eternally begotten of the Father.
- The Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son as from one principle.
This is not “convenient,” but necessary to preserve both God’s unity and the reality of the distinctions Scripture teaches.
Let’s return to the original point. The Holy Spirit is not a “what,” because He is not an impersonal force like gravity. A what can’t teach, can’t be grieved, can’t speak, can’t be lied to. But Scripture shows the Holy Spirit doing all of these:
- He teaches (John 14:26)
- He speaks (Acts 13:2)
- He distributes gifts as He wills (1 Cor 12:11)
- He can be resisted and lied to (Acts 5:3–4)
- He intercedes with the Father (Romans 8:26)
These are personal actions. They are not what a mere “force” does. If Scripture speaks this way, we must either take it seriously or explain why it should be reinterpreted. As Catholics, we take it seriously—while avoiding both tritheism and modalism.
Why not just say the Holy Spirit is God’s power? Because Scripture doesn’t treat Him that way. When Jesus sends out His disciples, He commands them to baptize in the name (singular) of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit (Matthew 28:19). That formula reveals equality of dignity and being. It would be incoherent to list a Person, a Person, and then an impersonal power. Moreover, if the Holy Spirit were merely God’s power or active force, why would He speak? Why would He forbid Paul to enter Asia (Acts 16:6)? Why would He be grieved (Ephesians 4:30)? Why would He test Ananias and Sapphira (Acts 5)? And why would blasphemy against Him be an unpardonable sin (Matthew 12:32)? You don’t blaspheme a metaphor. You don’t lie to an “it.”
I get it—it may sound strange. That’s because we’re describing a reality we can’t fully grasp. We’re not talking about apples, chairs, or animals. We are talking about the infinite inner life of God. The Trinity is not a puzzle we solve, but a mystery we receive—not irrational, but beyond the limits of finite human concepts. The Church doesn’t ask us to accept absurdity, but to accept what has been revealed and clarified through millennia of prayer, study, and faithful worship. St. Augustine once said that when someone denies the Trinity, they risk losing their soul—but when someone tries to understand it fully, they risk losing their mind. Yet through faith and love, what seems like a riddle becomes a window into the divine life. The Holy Spirit is that divine Love between Father and Son, who has been given to us so that we might become sharers in God’s own life.
So yes—perhaps to modern ears, “not a what but a who” sounds strange. But if we take revelation seriously, and if we want to avoid flattening God into a caricature—either a modalist mask-wearer or a collection of divine beings—we must speak in precise and faithful terms. The Holy Spirit is not just “God’s power.” He is God. Not a separate deity, but the one God in three Persons. Not a force, but the divine Person who indwells the hearts of believers. He is, as the Creed says, “the Lord and Giver of Life.” That is not comedy. That is awe. And that is the God we are called to know, love, and worship.
If you’re willing, I’d love to keep discussing this. I’ve been where you are—in the wrestling, in the questions, and in the desire for clarity. But truth has a way of inviting us deeper. And sometimes what sounds strange turns out to be the only thing that makes sense.