When beginning his discussion of the incarnation, St. Athanasius takes us all the way back to the beginning, the creation of the world. "The first fact that you must grasp," he writes with emphasis, "is this: the renewal of creation has been wrought by the Self-same Word Who made it in the beginning." All life comes from God, both physical and spiritual, therefore all death comes from that which is anti-God. So, the only way that life can be restored from death is through re-creation by the Creator. Through the will of God the Father, Christ, the eternal Word, works both to create us and to save us. Whatever the Word says is done; to speak something into existence is to make it; so also, to call us to repentance is to restore our spiritual life -- "...and those He called, He also justified..." (Rom. 8)
But before he gets to the significance of creation and new creation and their relationship to the incarnation, St. Athanasius delivers an interesting apologetic against false views of the creation event. In fact, although succinct, it is one of the best and most useful ever written, for these false ideas are still with us, surprisingly unchanged. We often think that in pre-modern times these false ideas were expressed in myths and stories, but St. Athanasius does not mentions these at all. He cites three prevailing philosophical viewpoints instead.
First, he cites the Epicureans, who said that "all things are self-originated, and, so to speak, haphazard" because they denied the existence of any kind of "Mind" behind the universe. This sounds, alarmingly like the theory of evolution, and philosophically, it is indeed the idea that stands behind naturalism. We even see here a hint of the scientific "random mutations over time." But St. Athanasius replies that they are not even paying attention to who they are or their own experience, for only one entity or thing could come of it, not the diversity we see all around us. (I have often felt that this logical argument against evolution is too little used. What would a random world really look like? It would be chaotic, no doubt, and lifeless, as well, completely without an ordering influence, and it could only, at best, produce one "thing." Yet, no system of operation or thought on the planet fundamentally works this way. We live in an ordered and complex world, even though we take it for granted.) The differences we see point to a designing Mind who employed engineering hands; in other words, a Cause. Consequently, any time one comprehends the cause of something so great as the universe, so vast as all things, it has to be God.
Second, he refers to Plato, who taught that God made everything from pre-existing, uncreated matter. This would make God out to be a craftsman like a carpenter, who makes items from already existing wood. This view puts limitations on God. He must work with something outside of himself, which he also did not have the power to create. If we understand God to be limitless and all-powerful, this type of creation could not be done by God at all; it would have to come about some other way. Plato's idea bears some resemblance to the steady-state theory of cosmology that maintained that the universe did not have a beginning but it has and will always exist in the same form as it is now perceived. Giving the universe some kind of eternal existence does away with the need for a cause, so any creator that might come along to make things must be less than God.
This brings us to the third theory, espoused by the Gnostics, who attributed creation to a demigod. They believed that God the Father appointed the task of creating to this lesser entity. However, St. Athanasius rather quickly points out that this goes completely against the teachings of Scripture, citing the passage in Mt. 19 that states that the same God who joins a man and a woman in marriage also created them. Another passage that supports creation by the triune God is Jn 1:1-3: "In in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God... All things were created through him..." Heb. 11:3 also tells us: "By faith we understand that the universe was created by God's command..." The Bible blatantly affirms that God, and no one or nothing else created the world. To argue against this in any way, he writes, is to be blind to the truth -- "These simply shut their eyes to the obvious meaning of Scripture."
In summary, St. Athanasius purposes three telling reasons why we should believe that God is the Creator of all things: 1.) There is strong evidence all around us for the existence of "Mind" -- design, order and unity of purpose exist in everything we observe, including ourselves. 2.) The generosity of God's goodness is evident in all that exists. God is good, therefore all he has made is intrinsically good and good for us. 3.) Humans bear in themselves a special grace or gift from God -- the very image of God, which enables us to think, feel and have the ability to know and be known by God.
Now, back to why this is central to the necessity for the incarnation. What was made so good and unblemished in the beginning, that is, the soul of man, was corrupted through mankind's conscience choice to sin against God. This brought about man's spiritual death and need for divine rescue. "It was our sorry case that caused the Word to come down, our transgression that called out his love for us..."
St. Athanasius believed that the Fall into sin, in a strange sort of way, negated the original creation. It placed man on a path towards non-existence, the road to Hell. Instead of being ever drawn towards Heaven, man was corrupted, turned irrevocably the other way. We were in danger passing away entirely, essentially returning back to nothingness, because evil had overtaken our hearts. Once this began to happen, "corruption ran riot," as the primal glory and purposes of creation were abandoned for the lusts and desires of fallen flesh. Only the presence of the eternal Word who had made humanity to begin with prevented its complete and utter obliteration.
It was sin, then, that has caused men, since almost the the very beginning of our existence, to lose sight of the truth about Creation. Sin made the heart of man blind to the purposes of the Creator and caused us to forget the glory and wonder from which we came. False theories about our origins have always plagued us, because we rebelled against the truth. So man has ever blindly followed a weary treacherous path of lies about the God from whom he came. But the amazing thing is, St. Athanasius affirms, it that God wanted us back so much that he expressed his creative love fully and finally by sending his Son to walk the dismal, dark and ruined human path: "...he made haste to help us and to appear among us. It is we who were the cause of his taking human form, and for our salvation that in his great love he was both born and manifested in a human body."
Showing posts with label the Incarnation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the Incarnation. Show all posts
Thursday, February 4, 2016
Thursday, January 14, 2016
Advent Meditation 2 from On the Incarnation
St. Athanasius begins by referring the reader back to his first book, Against the Heathen, also addressed to "Macarius." This could be Macarius of Jerusalem, who is thought to have been present at the First Council of Nicea with St. Athanasius. We know that he received warnings against Arianism from St. Athanasius, who also referred to him as one who embodied the "honest and simple style of apostolical men," but we do not know if this is the same person to whom the books are addressed. However, we can be certain that Macarius was a Christian; he is called a "true lover of Christ."
St Athanasius reminds Macarius that in his first book he had given an apologetic for Christianity, discussing who Christ is, why he came to earth and detailing the meaning of the Cross and the Resurrection, as well as giving a scathing condemnation of idolatry. Christ is the divine Word, who together with the Father, brings all things into being and so it follows that "...it is through Him that the Father gives order to creation, by Him that all things are moved, and through Him that they receive their being." The incarnation is linked inexorably with creation, for life and being come from God alone as the Word carries out the Will of the Father, both to make us in in his image in the beginning and to remake us in the image of Christ for all eternity.
When contemplating the meaning of the incarnation, one finds that it is first and foremost, a mystery. It is not, however, a who-done-it mystery, for it is all the work of God, but it is a spiritual mystery; a work of God so powerful and paradigm-changing that, although we can see the results of it, we can never understand or explain it in sufficient human terms. But because people are always trying to explain or explain away the spiritual mysteries instead of accepting them by faith, St. Athanasius refers to the two most common ways this is done: "That mystery the Jews traduce, the Greeks deride..."
The word "traduce" means to speak ill of something or someone by deliberately telling lies so as to damage a reputation. This is what the Jews, particularly the Pharisees, often did to Christ during his earthly ministry. As controversy swirled around the blind man whom Jesus healed on the Sabbath day, they intoned, "'This man is not from God, for He doesn't keep the Sabbath.'" They claimed that Christ's miracles were satanic deceptions, and when Christ was raised from the dead they bribed the Roman soldiers to tell the lie that Christ's body had been stolen by the disciples in the dead of night.The apostle Paul said that the Gospel is a "stumbling block"to the Jews, for by desperately trying to explain it away, they hopelessly twist their words and fall into unbelief.
In the same passage, Paul says that the Gospel is "foolishness" to the Greeks. They see it as crazy talk worthy only of scorn and derision. The Roman soldiers mocked Christ during his trial before Pilate by crowning him with thorns, calling him a sham king. The Greeks who heard Paul speak in Athens ridiculed the message of the resurrection as a joke, and after King Agrippa heard Paul's sermon, he snidely remarked,"Are you going to persuade me to become a Christian so easily?"
St. Athanasius encourages Macarius to study the incarnation because "...in his Manhood he seems so little worth." Not only do unbelievers lie about Christ and make light of him, but believers may also belittle and ignore the incredible truth that God became man. If we examine the life of Christ, we will see that "he [makes] his Godhead evident." We must study the person of Jesus as revealed in the Gospels over and over again, for the more we look and the longer we consider, we will see his divine worth rising up from his humanity and growing within us into a knowledge that is deeper, wider and ever more real and glorious. So,by not being ashamed to take on human flesh, he has reminded us of the love with which he made us in his perfect image and of our eventual union with him which is our eternal destiny.
Yet Christ came in the weakness of a tiny baby's body. He felt hunger and thirst, pain and loss, and not only experienced but also bore our sadness and sorrow. "Wiseacres" may point at this and laugh critically, but those who know Christ realize that his power, love, mercy and grace all radiate and explode from this weakness -- "For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but it is God's power to us who are being saved," and, "while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." The cross is the unlikely focal point of the Incarnation.
St. Athanasius affirms to wiseacres, doubters and to all who are just plain weary of life: "The things which they, as men, rule out as impossible, He plainly shows to be possible..." This world-of-impossibility, that God could care enough to leave Heaven and come to a ruined planet, that he could love the unlovable, and die for sins he never could commit, is all made possible through the power of the Incarnation. "When the time came to completion, God sent His Son, born of a woman...to redeem those under the law..." And from the very beginning of his coming, the angel's words to Mary hold true,"For nothing will be impossible with God."
Information on Macarius from Wikipedia
Scripture (HCSB) Jn. 9:16, Mt. 9:34, 28:12-17,27:27-31, Acts 17:32,26:28, 1Cor. 1:18,23
St Athanasius reminds Macarius that in his first book he had given an apologetic for Christianity, discussing who Christ is, why he came to earth and detailing the meaning of the Cross and the Resurrection, as well as giving a scathing condemnation of idolatry. Christ is the divine Word, who together with the Father, brings all things into being and so it follows that "...it is through Him that the Father gives order to creation, by Him that all things are moved, and through Him that they receive their being." The incarnation is linked inexorably with creation, for life and being come from God alone as the Word carries out the Will of the Father, both to make us in in his image in the beginning and to remake us in the image of Christ for all eternity.
When contemplating the meaning of the incarnation, one finds that it is first and foremost, a mystery. It is not, however, a who-done-it mystery, for it is all the work of God, but it is a spiritual mystery; a work of God so powerful and paradigm-changing that, although we can see the results of it, we can never understand or explain it in sufficient human terms. But because people are always trying to explain or explain away the spiritual mysteries instead of accepting them by faith, St. Athanasius refers to the two most common ways this is done: "That mystery the Jews traduce, the Greeks deride..."
The word "traduce" means to speak ill of something or someone by deliberately telling lies so as to damage a reputation. This is what the Jews, particularly the Pharisees, often did to Christ during his earthly ministry. As controversy swirled around the blind man whom Jesus healed on the Sabbath day, they intoned, "'This man is not from God, for He doesn't keep the Sabbath.'" They claimed that Christ's miracles were satanic deceptions, and when Christ was raised from the dead they bribed the Roman soldiers to tell the lie that Christ's body had been stolen by the disciples in the dead of night.The apostle Paul said that the Gospel is a "stumbling block"to the Jews, for by desperately trying to explain it away, they hopelessly twist their words and fall into unbelief.
In the same passage, Paul says that the Gospel is "foolishness" to the Greeks. They see it as crazy talk worthy only of scorn and derision. The Roman soldiers mocked Christ during his trial before Pilate by crowning him with thorns, calling him a sham king. The Greeks who heard Paul speak in Athens ridiculed the message of the resurrection as a joke, and after King Agrippa heard Paul's sermon, he snidely remarked,"Are you going to persuade me to become a Christian so easily?"
St. Athanasius encourages Macarius to study the incarnation because "...in his Manhood he seems so little worth." Not only do unbelievers lie about Christ and make light of him, but believers may also belittle and ignore the incredible truth that God became man. If we examine the life of Christ, we will see that "he [makes] his Godhead evident." We must study the person of Jesus as revealed in the Gospels over and over again, for the more we look and the longer we consider, we will see his divine worth rising up from his humanity and growing within us into a knowledge that is deeper, wider and ever more real and glorious. So,by not being ashamed to take on human flesh, he has reminded us of the love with which he made us in his perfect image and of our eventual union with him which is our eternal destiny.
Yet Christ came in the weakness of a tiny baby's body. He felt hunger and thirst, pain and loss, and not only experienced but also bore our sadness and sorrow. "Wiseacres" may point at this and laugh critically, but those who know Christ realize that his power, love, mercy and grace all radiate and explode from this weakness -- "For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but it is God's power to us who are being saved," and, "while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." The cross is the unlikely focal point of the Incarnation.
St. Athanasius affirms to wiseacres, doubters and to all who are just plain weary of life: "The things which they, as men, rule out as impossible, He plainly shows to be possible..." This world-of-impossibility, that God could care enough to leave Heaven and come to a ruined planet, that he could love the unlovable, and die for sins he never could commit, is all made possible through the power of the Incarnation. "When the time came to completion, God sent His Son, born of a woman...to redeem those under the law..." And from the very beginning of his coming, the angel's words to Mary hold true,"For nothing will be impossible with God."
Information on Macarius from Wikipedia
Scripture (HCSB) Jn. 9:16, Mt. 9:34, 28:12-17,27:27-31, Acts 17:32,26:28, 1Cor. 1:18,23
Thursday, December 10, 2015
Advent meditation 1 from On the Incarnation
I thought I would take my Advent meditations this year from one of my favorite books -- On the Incarnation by St. Athanasius. This little book is a classic work that dates back to the time of the ancient church. But the introduction to this book, written by C.S. Lewis (though "new") is even more of a classic piece of literary apologetics, for it is here that Lewis famously encourages us to "read old books" and to see within them "God with us."
On the Incarnation is indeed a very old book. It was written when St. Athanasius (c296-8 -- 373) was still a young man, probably before 319. At the age of 27 he not only attended but had an influential role at the First Council of Nicea (c325). In fact, as a mere assistant to the bishop of Alexandria, he was the one to suggest the use of the now-famous word homoousion (consubstantial) to describe the relationship of God the Son to God the Father. This keystone of Trinitarian theology is forever enshrined in the words of the Nicene creed: "We believe...in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds, Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father."
Of course, St Athanasius greatly expands on this theme of God becoming man and yet remaining fully God in his book. It is an old book of deep, yet accessible theological literature, and Lewis tells us that it is especially important to read such old books; it is far more important, he says, to study them than to study the works of modern theologians such as Niebuhr, Berdyaev or even (how can this be?!) himself! In retrospect, which viewpoint we now enjoy, the works of C.S.Lewis have become "old" -- perhaps because his soul was made old and pure and his writing given extraordinary clarity through his faithful study of not only the Word but the ancient church Fathers as well. All of us who attain to write about the "queen of sciences" should strive for nothing less than this comfortable familiarity with the classics of Christian thought.
Lewis gives us two reasons for reading old theology books: 1.) they teach us the principles of "mere Christianity," and 2.) they refresh our vision of a fundamental Christian worldview. Modern books, he feels, deal far too often with modern controversies or trends and less with the discussion of Christianity itself. Exclusive study of them causes misinterpretations and disagreements to arise. He writes, "The only safety is to have a standard of plain, central Christianity...Such a standard can be acquired only from the old books." On the Incarnation enlightens our souls with instruction on fundamentals of the faith such as creation, the trinity, salvation and Christology. We also see more clearly how Christianity fits in with our vision of the world; how it makes sense of the happenings and philosophies that swirl around us.
For Lewis, reading the old books caused him to consider the shape of Christianity long before he discovered the reality of faith. He read the poet Herbert, the allegorist, Bunyan, theologians St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, the epic poet Dante and the not-so-old father of fantasy, George Macdonald. (I mention these because I have read and loved these, too.) He says that as he read, even though he tried to ignore it or explain it away as "English studies," the power of Christian thought and ideas kept breaking through to his searching soul. "[The books were] of course, varied; and yet -- after all -- so unmistakably the same; recognisable, not to be evaded, the odour which is death to us until we allow it to become life..."
I am reminded of how the Apostle Paul used literature in a similar way when addressing the pagan sceptics on Mars Hill. He said, "even as some of you own poets have said" in order to communicate the idea that our life comes from God and the living God surrounds us. The Apostle Peter told the first Gentile believers that "all the prophets testify about Him;" in those old, old books they would learn the story of the hope for all the world. But Paul, who would go on to write so much of the New Testament, said of his own sermons and letters: "I did not come with brilliance of speech or wisdom. For I didn't think it was a good idea to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified." And so this fundamental idea -- the centrality of Christ -- which permeates Scripture and runs through the old (and new) classics of Christian literature, draws us deeper into the heart and mind of Christ.
Lewis also contends that the old books are devotional as well as didactical. By working hard at extracting an author's meaning and vision, we come to learn truths that delight our hearts. He vividly describes this experience as "...working their way through a tough bit of theology with a pipe in their teeth and a pencil in their hand." I, myself, scribble away in the margins of the old books, but with an accompanying cup of tea instead of a pipe! I fear my children do not know what to make of the notes I scribble in the books we trade back and forth, but perhaps one day they grow to appreciate my momentary flashes of insight. I will say, "Never fear, C.S. Lewis used to scribble in his books, too, only he became a great writer!"
But back to St. Athanasius. In the Christendom of his day, the Arian Controversy held center stage. The bishop he had assisted at the Council of Nicea, Alexander of Alexandria, had crossed swords with the presbyter Arias, also of Alexandria, who theorized that the Son was not the same as the Father; that he was made, not begotten, and therefore not God in the flesh. From the time of the Council on, through his long term as bishop of Alexandria (during which he endured five periods of exile), to the end of his rather long life, Athanasius would oppose, fight against and counteract this false doctrine. But Arianism was insidious and wide-spread in this long-ago world -- supported by clergy and royalty, its tentacles spread north into Europe, south into Africa, east into Byzantium. In 359, St Jerome lamented "...the whole world groaned in astonishment to find itself Arian."
And so, Athanasius was destined to live out his epitaph -- "Athanasius contra mundum"-- Athanasius against the world. At the center of his fight was a burning desire to keep the faith, to embrace a Christianity that is genuine and old, as old as the prophets, evangelists and apostles, old, yet ever new. His fight was not so much with unbelievers, Lewis reminds us, as it was with those who having once believed fell away into "sub-Christian modes of thought." Jesus referred to this mentality as the seed that falls on thorny ground. It sprouts but is subdued by the "worries of this age," Arianism among them.
Those who persist in this type of thought, inventing "'sensible' synthetic religions" are still with us. They belittle Christ and reconstruct the truth. They interpret the Scriptures to their own satisfaction and vainly look for good in the darkness of their human hearts, all the while claiming to follow true spirituality. Today, as followers of Christ, we stand in Athanasius' footprints, against the world. On the first page of On the Incarnation, St.Athanasius addresses these types as "these wiseacres," a clue to his "wit and talent" which he maintained so faithfully during his lifelong struggle against apostasy. By reading his little old book during this season of Advent, may we also take a stand against the world and with and for Emmanuel, God with us, the babe of Bethlehem.
information on St. Athanasius, and Arianism from Wikipedia
Scripture references (HCSB): Acts 17:28, 10:43, 1Cor.2:2, Matt. 13:22
C.S.Lewis' introduction is in the 1946 edition of The Incarnation of the Word of God, published by Macmillian
On the Incarnation is indeed a very old book. It was written when St. Athanasius (c296-8 -- 373) was still a young man, probably before 319. At the age of 27 he not only attended but had an influential role at the First Council of Nicea (c325). In fact, as a mere assistant to the bishop of Alexandria, he was the one to suggest the use of the now-famous word homoousion (consubstantial) to describe the relationship of God the Son to God the Father. This keystone of Trinitarian theology is forever enshrined in the words of the Nicene creed: "We believe...in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all worlds, Light of Light, very God of very God, begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father."
Of course, St Athanasius greatly expands on this theme of God becoming man and yet remaining fully God in his book. It is an old book of deep, yet accessible theological literature, and Lewis tells us that it is especially important to read such old books; it is far more important, he says, to study them than to study the works of modern theologians such as Niebuhr, Berdyaev or even (how can this be?!) himself! In retrospect, which viewpoint we now enjoy, the works of C.S.Lewis have become "old" -- perhaps because his soul was made old and pure and his writing given extraordinary clarity through his faithful study of not only the Word but the ancient church Fathers as well. All of us who attain to write about the "queen of sciences" should strive for nothing less than this comfortable familiarity with the classics of Christian thought.
Lewis gives us two reasons for reading old theology books: 1.) they teach us the principles of "mere Christianity," and 2.) they refresh our vision of a fundamental Christian worldview. Modern books, he feels, deal far too often with modern controversies or trends and less with the discussion of Christianity itself. Exclusive study of them causes misinterpretations and disagreements to arise. He writes, "The only safety is to have a standard of plain, central Christianity...Such a standard can be acquired only from the old books." On the Incarnation enlightens our souls with instruction on fundamentals of the faith such as creation, the trinity, salvation and Christology. We also see more clearly how Christianity fits in with our vision of the world; how it makes sense of the happenings and philosophies that swirl around us.
For Lewis, reading the old books caused him to consider the shape of Christianity long before he discovered the reality of faith. He read the poet Herbert, the allegorist, Bunyan, theologians St. Augustine and St. Thomas Aquinas, the epic poet Dante and the not-so-old father of fantasy, George Macdonald. (I mention these because I have read and loved these, too.) He says that as he read, even though he tried to ignore it or explain it away as "English studies," the power of Christian thought and ideas kept breaking through to his searching soul. "[The books were] of course, varied; and yet -- after all -- so unmistakably the same; recognisable, not to be evaded, the odour which is death to us until we allow it to become life..."
I am reminded of how the Apostle Paul used literature in a similar way when addressing the pagan sceptics on Mars Hill. He said, "even as some of you own poets have said" in order to communicate the idea that our life comes from God and the living God surrounds us. The Apostle Peter told the first Gentile believers that "all the prophets testify about Him;" in those old, old books they would learn the story of the hope for all the world. But Paul, who would go on to write so much of the New Testament, said of his own sermons and letters: "I did not come with brilliance of speech or wisdom. For I didn't think it was a good idea to know anything among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified." And so this fundamental idea -- the centrality of Christ -- which permeates Scripture and runs through the old (and new) classics of Christian literature, draws us deeper into the heart and mind of Christ.
Lewis also contends that the old books are devotional as well as didactical. By working hard at extracting an author's meaning and vision, we come to learn truths that delight our hearts. He vividly describes this experience as "...working their way through a tough bit of theology with a pipe in their teeth and a pencil in their hand." I, myself, scribble away in the margins of the old books, but with an accompanying cup of tea instead of a pipe! I fear my children do not know what to make of the notes I scribble in the books we trade back and forth, but perhaps one day they grow to appreciate my momentary flashes of insight. I will say, "Never fear, C.S. Lewis used to scribble in his books, too, only he became a great writer!"
But back to St. Athanasius. In the Christendom of his day, the Arian Controversy held center stage. The bishop he had assisted at the Council of Nicea, Alexander of Alexandria, had crossed swords with the presbyter Arias, also of Alexandria, who theorized that the Son was not the same as the Father; that he was made, not begotten, and therefore not God in the flesh. From the time of the Council on, through his long term as bishop of Alexandria (during which he endured five periods of exile), to the end of his rather long life, Athanasius would oppose, fight against and counteract this false doctrine. But Arianism was insidious and wide-spread in this long-ago world -- supported by clergy and royalty, its tentacles spread north into Europe, south into Africa, east into Byzantium. In 359, St Jerome lamented "...the whole world groaned in astonishment to find itself Arian."
And so, Athanasius was destined to live out his epitaph -- "Athanasius contra mundum"-- Athanasius against the world. At the center of his fight was a burning desire to keep the faith, to embrace a Christianity that is genuine and old, as old as the prophets, evangelists and apostles, old, yet ever new. His fight was not so much with unbelievers, Lewis reminds us, as it was with those who having once believed fell away into "sub-Christian modes of thought." Jesus referred to this mentality as the seed that falls on thorny ground. It sprouts but is subdued by the "worries of this age," Arianism among them.
Those who persist in this type of thought, inventing "'sensible' synthetic religions" are still with us. They belittle Christ and reconstruct the truth. They interpret the Scriptures to their own satisfaction and vainly look for good in the darkness of their human hearts, all the while claiming to follow true spirituality. Today, as followers of Christ, we stand in Athanasius' footprints, against the world. On the first page of On the Incarnation, St.Athanasius addresses these types as "these wiseacres," a clue to his "wit and talent" which he maintained so faithfully during his lifelong struggle against apostasy. By reading his little old book during this season of Advent, may we also take a stand against the world and with and for Emmanuel, God with us, the babe of Bethlehem.
information on St. Athanasius, and Arianism from Wikipedia
Scripture references (HCSB): Acts 17:28, 10:43, 1Cor.2:2, Matt. 13:22
C.S.Lewis' introduction is in the 1946 edition of The Incarnation of the Word of God, published by Macmillian
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Do you know?
I've been sick lately, so I've been listening to a lot of Christian "this-and-that" on the internet. (May I interject here that being sick is a wonderful excuse for not writing posts for this blog; and I'm certainly invoking it here!) I like to listen to and learn from the many voices that speak to our confession of faith and the great tradition, particularly those that are participating in conversations on topics related to science and faith.
So, one morning I listened to a dialogue between a Christian science professor and an atheist science professor about whether or not morality is possible with or without God in a world that has come about through evolutionary processes. Both professors agreed that evolution has happened and that science should view human responses in light of evolutionary theory. Both gave credence to the idea that people can do good things with or without an appeal to God or religion. Both saw morality as a result of evolutionary effects in both humans and animals. Both professors kept saying the exact same things. I kept waiting for the Christian to say something significant, something challenging, or something thought-provoking about God. But, every comment he made just blended in with his opponent's with a sort of holistic niceness.
Now, in all fairness, I do not know how the Christian professor was approaching this debate. Maybe he thought that religious questions should be left to religious debates, and since this was a scientific discussion, he stuck with the science alone. (And I'm ok with his assent to theistic evolution.) He admitted to having had dialogue with the other professor in the past, so one can only hope they dealt with theological concepts at that time. But, after listening to this banal give-and-take for over an hour, the thought that struck me was: as Christians, can we ever be passive about matters that are informed by our faith? When given the opportunity, should we not always stand up for God? If God has truly transformed us, should we not readily give way to transcendence?
At the end of the discussion, during the Q &A, a man stood up and asked one of the hard, hard questions -- the one about outrageous suffering in this world and what we, or God, should do about it. And I thought, Oh, so now we're getting somewhere; now it's time to talk about who God is and what he so positively has done and is so incredibly able to do... But no, they only agreed that "religion" can be part of the problem, and we tend to mainly concern ourselves with the situations closest to us and shy away from addressing problems of staggering intensity. Having had my fill of this pathetic display of non-commitment, I decided to listen to something else.
And then I had one of those Psalm 73 moments -- "...till I entered the sanctuary of God..."
I listened to Penatonix' stunning arrangement of the contemporary classic Christmas song, "Mary, did you know?"
...walk on water
...deliver you
...the face of God
...the Lord of all Creation
...the Great I Am!
Once again and mercifully, I encountered the astounding miracle of the Incarnation: "God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." And every year this miracle waits to be discovered anew, as Christmas rushes at us with thousands of frantic, glittery messages, tugging at the selfish desires of our millions of solitary hearts. It whispers on the busy streets and in the crowded stores and, most persistently, in the faithless heart, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."
In this world where the aching magnitude of Christmas has been reduced, blow by blow, to self-centered reductionism, Christmas still shines with the blinding light of transcendence. God became a baby boy. God walked on this planet, the one he has made. God encountered sorrow and wept. "'I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.'"
The fierce light of the Incarnation calls us who have been made in his image and remade by his precious grace, to face the dark questions posed by this world with this radical declaration of Scripture: though it seems hidden and hopeless, God is redeeming his world. You see, although we so very much long to do so, we cannot give an explanation for the sin and evil that haunts our existence, because it did not come from here. Satan, the first created being to turn away from God, did so in the spiritual realm, far beyond our physical world in every way. The battle for earth was first fought in Heaven. "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."
You see, Satan hijacked earth. He introduced an evil that is not terrestrial, a horror we will never understand, though we sinfully embraced it. This brand of evil can only be opposed by God himself who set aside his garment of glory only to be wrapped in swaddling clothes. Only God could conquer the sin that came from the darkness without, but in order to do so he had to come into our world as one of us."This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him."
Just as the sin that seized us is otherworldly, so is the glory that has embraced us, "He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again." Therefore, we are called to a radical faith, one that reflects the light of heaven, our eternal destiny; so whatever we think or do or talk about should manifest that greater light. We must express a forward-looking point of view. We must yield ourselves to the self-less journey of spiritual formation. The things that concern us on earth must be the very things that will consume us in heaven.
If this is our goal, if this becomes our earthy obsession, if we like Mary know and treasure the incarnation in our hearts, we can face a world of the hard, hard questions with one resilient, miraculous answer -- God knows and he cares and he loves. He died on the cross for every hardhearted and brutal sin ever committed. He embodied every pain of every tortured soul --"for the joy set before him he endured the cross!" And every time we tug on the curtain that separates the knowledge of this answer from the reality of this answer, a little light escapes; it is the light of the Incarnation, of Christmas.
Mary knew, as she stood before both the manger and the cross.
For the sake of all who walk in darkness, do we?
(Scriptures (NIV) -- 2Cor. 5:21, John 10:10, 8:12, Eph. 6:12, 1John 4:9, 2Cor. 5:15, Heb. 12:2)
So, one morning I listened to a dialogue between a Christian science professor and an atheist science professor about whether or not morality is possible with or without God in a world that has come about through evolutionary processes. Both professors agreed that evolution has happened and that science should view human responses in light of evolutionary theory. Both gave credence to the idea that people can do good things with or without an appeal to God or religion. Both saw morality as a result of evolutionary effects in both humans and animals. Both professors kept saying the exact same things. I kept waiting for the Christian to say something significant, something challenging, or something thought-provoking about God. But, every comment he made just blended in with his opponent's with a sort of holistic niceness.
Now, in all fairness, I do not know how the Christian professor was approaching this debate. Maybe he thought that religious questions should be left to religious debates, and since this was a scientific discussion, he stuck with the science alone. (And I'm ok with his assent to theistic evolution.) He admitted to having had dialogue with the other professor in the past, so one can only hope they dealt with theological concepts at that time. But, after listening to this banal give-and-take for over an hour, the thought that struck me was: as Christians, can we ever be passive about matters that are informed by our faith? When given the opportunity, should we not always stand up for God? If God has truly transformed us, should we not readily give way to transcendence?
At the end of the discussion, during the Q &A, a man stood up and asked one of the hard, hard questions -- the one about outrageous suffering in this world and what we, or God, should do about it. And I thought, Oh, so now we're getting somewhere; now it's time to talk about who God is and what he so positively has done and is so incredibly able to do... But no, they only agreed that "religion" can be part of the problem, and we tend to mainly concern ourselves with the situations closest to us and shy away from addressing problems of staggering intensity. Having had my fill of this pathetic display of non-commitment, I decided to listen to something else.
And then I had one of those Psalm 73 moments -- "...till I entered the sanctuary of God..."
I listened to Penatonix' stunning arrangement of the contemporary classic Christmas song, "Mary, did you know?"
...walk on water
...deliver you
...the face of God
...the Lord of all Creation
...the Great I Am!
Once again and mercifully, I encountered the astounding miracle of the Incarnation: "God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." And every year this miracle waits to be discovered anew, as Christmas rushes at us with thousands of frantic, glittery messages, tugging at the selfish desires of our millions of solitary hearts. It whispers on the busy streets and in the crowded stores and, most persistently, in the faithless heart, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."
In this world where the aching magnitude of Christmas has been reduced, blow by blow, to self-centered reductionism, Christmas still shines with the blinding light of transcendence. God became a baby boy. God walked on this planet, the one he has made. God encountered sorrow and wept. "'I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.'"
The fierce light of the Incarnation calls us who have been made in his image and remade by his precious grace, to face the dark questions posed by this world with this radical declaration of Scripture: though it seems hidden and hopeless, God is redeeming his world. You see, although we so very much long to do so, we cannot give an explanation for the sin and evil that haunts our existence, because it did not come from here. Satan, the first created being to turn away from God, did so in the spiritual realm, far beyond our physical world in every way. The battle for earth was first fought in Heaven. "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."
You see, Satan hijacked earth. He introduced an evil that is not terrestrial, a horror we will never understand, though we sinfully embraced it. This brand of evil can only be opposed by God himself who set aside his garment of glory only to be wrapped in swaddling clothes. Only God could conquer the sin that came from the darkness without, but in order to do so he had to come into our world as one of us."This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him."
Just as the sin that seized us is otherworldly, so is the glory that has embraced us, "He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again." Therefore, we are called to a radical faith, one that reflects the light of heaven, our eternal destiny; so whatever we think or do or talk about should manifest that greater light. We must express a forward-looking point of view. We must yield ourselves to the self-less journey of spiritual formation. The things that concern us on earth must be the very things that will consume us in heaven.
If this is our goal, if this becomes our earthy obsession, if we like Mary know and treasure the incarnation in our hearts, we can face a world of the hard, hard questions with one resilient, miraculous answer -- God knows and he cares and he loves. He died on the cross for every hardhearted and brutal sin ever committed. He embodied every pain of every tortured soul --"for the joy set before him he endured the cross!" And every time we tug on the curtain that separates the knowledge of this answer from the reality of this answer, a little light escapes; it is the light of the Incarnation, of Christmas.
Mary knew, as she stood before both the manger and the cross.
For the sake of all who walk in darkness, do we?
(Scriptures (NIV) -- 2Cor. 5:21, John 10:10, 8:12, Eph. 6:12, 1John 4:9, 2Cor. 5:15, Heb. 12:2)
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