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That our Lord Jesus Christ is truly Man is not now disputed by anyone.
There are many who deny that He is God,
none who deny that He is Man.
But in ancient times the denial of our Lord's Manhood was one of the commonest
and most widespread heresies.
Already St. John had to resist it (I St. John 4.2).
St. Ignatius a few years later was continually denouncing it.
This heresy usually took the form of Docetism (δόκησις,
appearance).
The Docetists held that the body of our Lord was a sort of phantom,
that He did not really eat or drink, or die,
but only appeared to do so.
Their reason for this was their assumption that matter is evil,
and that therefore God could not have really taken human flesh.
So long did this notion last, extraordinary as it appears to us,
that traces of it are found in the teaching of Muhammad.
According to the Koran, Issa bin Mariam (Jesus the Son of Mary),
the last great prophet before Muhammad himself,
did not die on the Cross but was translated to heaven;
it was Simon of Cyrene who took His place, died on the Cross,
and was mistaken for Him by the writers of the Gospels!
Another form of the denial of our Lord's real Manhood was Iconoclasm,
the refusal to permit pictures of our Lord as Man.
The use and veneration of sacred pictures,
"the books of the unlearned" as they have been called,
grew up very gradually in the Church, and does not appear to have made any
great progress until heathenism had ceased to be a danger.
About 306, the Council of Elvira in Spain had forbidden pictures to be painted
on the walls of churches.
But at least by the end of the fourth
century the use of pictures in churches was general, and by the eighth century
there was a good deal of superstition connected with them.
[For
instance, the practice of making a picture godparent to a child.]
Leo III, the Isaurian, who became Emperor in 717, came from the eastern frontier
where Monophysite, and perhaps even Moslem, ideas had influence:
the Monophysites,
since they did not sufficiently emphasize our Lord's Manhood, forbade the
use of pictures,
[The Coptic Church has now no objection to
sacred pictures in churches.]
and Muhammad, as is well known, prohibited
the making of a picture of anything for any purpose, so that Islamic art
is confined to geometrical figures.
At any rate, Leo III determined
to put down the use of sacred pictures.
He had the support of the army, which was ardently on his side, and of many
of the leading bishops because they were jealous of the growing power of
the monasteries which were the centres of the cult of the sacred pictures,
and because the Church was now so closely connected with the State that they
had worldly reasons for supporting the Government.
He was opposed by the monks,
especially by the convent of the "Sleepless Ones" at Constantinople;
by the women who were devoted to the sacred pictures;
by the see of Rome;
and by St. John of Damascus, the greatest theologian of the age, who was
a subject of the Arab Khalif and was therefore able to speak and write without
fear of the Emperor.
St. John of Damascus held that the Iconoclasts regarded our Lord not as
a Person but only as an idea, and that the use of pictures was a necessary
result of the Incarnation and the belief in our Lord's real manhood.
To the argument that the Second Commandment forbade the veneration of pictures,
he replied that that commandment was changed by the Incarnation,
for at the time when it was issued God had not yet taken human nature;
and further, that the respect and veneration paid to the sacred pictures
(δουλεία, dulia)
were to be distinguished from the adoration due to God alone (λατρεία, latria),
which, if given to any created being, would indeed be idolatry (εἰδωλολατρεία, idolo-latria -
veneration given to idols or visible forms).
St. John of Damascus also maintained that sacred pictures, like sacraments,
were channels of Divine grace, that their use was necessary for those who
could not read but must learn through pictures,
and that doctrinal questions, such as this was, must be settled by synods
of bishops, not by emperors.
In 731 Pope Gregory III held a council of ninety-three bishops at Rome,
which condemned Iconoclasm; and Leo III could not enforce his will on the
Latins.
In 754 his son, Constantine V (Copronymus), held a council of 340 bishops
at Hieria near Constantinople.
It represented that patriarchate only, for the others refused to send any
bishops.
This council declared all pictures of Christ and the saints forbidden by
the Second Commandment, and ordered them to be removed from the churches
that were to be decorated with pictures of birds, flowers, and fruit.
It
also tried to destroy monasticism, forbade the use of the monk's habit, and
turned the monasteries into barracks.
In 780 Constantine VI became Emperor.
He was only ten years old, and his mother Irene ruled the empire.
She determined to restore the sacred pictures, and summoned the Second Council
of Nicea in 787.
Both Greeks and Latins reckon this council as the Seventh Ecumenical Council.
Three hundred and fifty bishops took part in it, all of whom, except the
Roman legates, were Greeks.
It condemned the iconoclastic council of
Hieria, restored the pictures to the churches, directed that dulia but
not latria was to be paid to them, and declared that the right to
decide questions of doctrine belonged to the bishops, not to the Emperor.
There was another iconoclastic period after this,
in which the leader on the orthodox side was St. Theodore of the Studium,
but the sacred pictures were finally restored in 843.
The sanction given by the Second Council of Nicea to sacred pictures includes,
in principle, sculpture also (though in practice the Greeks have never allowed
statues).
It is the charter of Christian art.
If the Iconoclasts had been successful,
the masterpieces of Raphael and Michelangelo would have been impossible.
The churches north of the Alps were not represented at Nicea.
In 792 the English bishops, on receiving a copy of the decrees of Nicea from
Charles the Great, replied that they rejected these decrees.
In 794 Charles the Great summoned the Council of Frankfort,
at which 300 bishops from all parts of his dominions were present,
and which declared that sacred pictures were to be used but not worshiped,
rejecting the Second Council of Nicea as a "pseudo-synod".
Nevertheless, the veneration of sacred pictures spread rapidly in the West. Sculptured
images, which have never been in use in the Greek churches, soon became common
among the Latins.
The exact authority given to the Second Council of
Nicea by Latin Christendom in the following centuries is not quite clear.
The
legates of Pope Hadrian I had taken a leading part in it.
The creed of Pope Leo IX recognized it as the Seventh Ecumenical Council.
It was included in the well-known handbook of Canon Law,
the Decretum of Gratian, which was everywhere accepted as a textbook.
St. Thomas Aquinas taught that homage directed to an image is intended not
for the image but for the person whom the image represents.
If the
image represents Christ, the worship offered is latria.
The
Greeks, on the other hand, distinguished the "relative homage" offered
to the image from the homage offered to the person whom it represents: dulia,
not latria, is offered to images even of Christ.
St. Theodore
of the Studium taught that we must not offer latria even to Christ
as Man but only the Holy Trinity.
The Second Council of Nicea appears to have been regarded as "General" by
the Council of Constance, but even as late as 1540 there were theologians,
especially in France, who rejected its authority.
However, the Council
of Trent formally accepted it, and the Roman Communion since Trent.
It cannot be said that the Church of England,
which rejects both Constance and Trent, has ever formally accepted it.
Both before and since the Reformation,
the formal teaching of the English Church has been that of Frankfort;
that sacred pictures and images are to be used but not venerated.
Some of our divines under Calvinist influence have favoured Iconoclasm
(see the Homily on Peril of Idolatry), and the lamentable destruction
of sacred pictures and images during the Reformation is well known.
The Anglican Communion today is officially free from the iconoclastic heresy,
though there are many individuals infected with it, especially among the
laity.
But it is by no means certain that it would accept the Second Council of
Nicea,
which condemned those who should refuse to accept "all ecclesiastical
tradition, whether written or non-written".
This canon would require very careful explanation, and would not be accepted
unless it could be shown to be consistent with the principle of Articles
6 and 20.
And while the condemnation of Iconoclasm seems to be a necessary conclusion
from belief in the Incarnation, it would not be easy to show that the veneration
of pictures, as distinct from their use for ornament and instruction, is
found in or can be proved by Holy Scripture.
On the other hand, it is certain that reunion with the Orthodox Eastern Communion
cannot be accomplished without formal acceptance of the Seven Ecumenical
Councils;
and the question is, whether the decrees of the Second Council
of Nicea can be explained in a manner that is consistent with Anglican principles.
The Anglican Communion has always accepted the first six Councils
(see p. 86, note).
There was in the early Middle Ages a tendency to regard our Lord chiefly
as the Divine Judge, which may have been due to the influence of the Monophysite
writer, Pseudo-Dionysius (see p. 87).
From this arose the popular
notion that as a medieval king could be best approached by means of powerful
courtiers, our Lord could best be approached by means of the saints.
This notion is not consistent with the New Testament or theologically tolerable;
our Lord is not that kind of King.
But it has its influence even today in some parts of Christendom.
On the other hand, there has been for many years a strong tendency in the
other direction.
Our Lord is regarded first of all as Man, the best
and noblest of men.
His Godhead, if accepted at all, is thrust into the background.
A well-known Congregationalist minister once wrote a book called Jesus,
Lord or Leader, asserting that Jesus Christ is our Leader to be followed,
but not our Lord to be worshiped.
This is the doctrine, which has now
become traditional, of theological Liberalism in general. In recent years
it has lost much ground, but it is still widely held, especially by the generation
now passing.
We cannot assert too often or too strongly that those who deny that Jesus
is God,
in the sense in which the Church teaches that He is God,
have no right to the name of Christian.
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It is easy to show that the Gospels teach that our Lord Jesus Christ is
truly Man.
The latest of them, the Fourth Gospel,
which teaches His Godhead more explicitly than the others,
also lays special emphasis on His Manhood,
probably because one of its objects was to resist the new doctrine that Jesus
Christ was not come in the flesh (I John 4.2), that He was not really Man.
The Son of God was born exactly like every other baby
(though, as His Mother was a virgin, He was not conceived like every other
baby).
St. Matthew and St. Luke are our authorities for this,
and St. John tells us
the Word became flesh (1.14).
St. Luke tells us that He increased in wisdom and stature (2.52)
that is, that His mind and body developed like those of other boys.
He was hungry (Matt.4.2; Luke 4.2), thirsty (John 19.28),
weary (John 4.5). He wept (John 11.35).
His sufferings in Gethsemane, during His trial, and on the Cross, were real.
That he really died is shown by St. John 19.34
as well as by the story of His burial told by all the Evangelists.
He ate and drank even after His Resurrection
(Luke 24.41; John 21.15; Acts 10.41).
This shows that He is still Man, and that He did not lay down His Manhood.
It is Man that is seated on the throne of God.
We shall see later on the importance of this.
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Since our Lord was truly Man,
He had a human mind, the powers of which were limited.
He was omniscient, all-knowing, as God but not as Man.
He increased in wisdom (Luke 2:52).
He had to learn to read like other boys.
He said Himself that He did not know the date of the Day of Judgment
(Mark 13.32).
If He was to live among men at all, His mind had to be that of a man, and
of a man of His time.
If, for instance, He had known all that we know
about the laws of health, He would have had to teach it to His neighbours
(for to know it and not to teach it would have been inconsistent with His
character);
and He would not have had time to do the work for which He had
come into the world.
We need not, then, find any difficulty in believing
that His knowledge of the authorship of the books of the Old Testament was
that of His time, or that He attributed to David a psalm which modern scholars
agree was most probably not written by David (though the argument which He
used may imply "as you say"; "if David, as you say, called
Him Lord, how is He his son?" Mark 12.35).
But on all matters that concerned His mission we believe that He could not
be mistaken.
He spoke of these things as a prophet with Divine authority
(Matt.7.29).
He claimed that His teaching superseded the Law (Matt.5.38, etc.).
We are not to doubt that His teaching on marriage,
or the resurrection of the dead,
or the existence and power of the devil, is Divine and infallible.
On these subjects He knew it, most probably, not with the Divine omniscience,
but with the extended human knowledge with which He was filled for the purpose
of His work.
The traditional opinion, which appears to go back to St. Cyril of Alexandria,
is that during His ministry He sometimes spoke as God, and sometimes as Man;
as God, when He said "Before Abraham was, I am";
as Man when He said "I thirst".
Most modern theologians are dissatisfied with this theory;
and it is certainly not of faith.
The relation of His Divine consciousness to His human consciousness is a
mystery that we cannot hope fully to understand.
But it is easier to believe that when He spoke on earth, He spoke as Man
with human knowledge, even when He spoke of His own Godhead ("before
Abraham was, I am": John 8.58).
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Some theologians, however, have gone further than this and put forward the
theory known as the Kenosis (κένωσις,
emptying), which began in Lutheran circles and is due to the assumption of
Luther.
According to this theory,
God the Son, when He became Man, "emptied" Himself of His Godhead
or of some of its attributes such as omnipotence and omniscience.
Luther's view of the Incarnation was not, as the Council of Chalcedon taught,
that the eternal Word was the self of the two natures which remain distinct from
one another, but that the two natures coalesced into one indivisible personality.
Though he accepted the definition of Chalcedon formally,
his teaching was really inconsistent with it.
The Lutherans believed that the Divine attributes were communicated to the human
nature;
and when they came in the eighteenth century to see that the limitations
of Christ's human nature were real, they denied that He could have still possessed,
as Man, the attributes of God.
Some went so far as to say that His Godhead was changed into a human soul.
Others distinguished between the "absolute" and the "relative" attributes
of God, and held that the
"relative" attributes, omnipotence, omniscience, and omnipresence,
were abandoned by the Son when He became Man.
The theory is based on a single passage of the New Testament, Phil.2.5-8:
Have this mind in you, which was also in Christ Jesus:
who, being in the form of God,
counted it not a prize to be on an equality with God,
but emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant,
being made in the likeness of men;
and being found in fashion as a man,
He humbled Himself, becoming obedient unto death,
yea, the death of the cross.
I cannot accept this theory for two reasons.
First, its scriptural basis is insufficient.
We are warned not to base any doctrine on a single text without support from
other passages;
still more without reference to the context.
In this passage St. Paul is exhorting his readers to copy the humility of our
Lord.
It is an ethical, not a doctrinal, passage.
He is unlikely to have introduced into such an exhortation, in a relative clause,
a difficult theological proposition which he does not explain, and which has
no parallel in any of his other surviving letters.
It is more likely that St. Paul is speaking rhetorically
(for the whole passage is highly rhetorical),
and uses the word "emptied" to mean that our Lord, out of profound
humility,
laid no claim to the glory of being the Son of God,
but submitted to the inglorious conditions of human life and death.
If St. Paul had meant that He really emptied Himself of the properties of the
Godhead, surely he would have expressed so startling an idea in clearer language
than this. [See F. J. Hall, The Incarnation, pp.
228-236.]
Second, God, who is "without variation, or shadow that is cast by turning" (James
1.17), cannot abandon His omniscience even for a moment,
for to do so would be to change, and He does not change.
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We must believe, then,
that our Lord was at once omniscient as God, and ignorant as man.
How could this be? We cannot say.
It is part of the mystery of the Incarnation.
But we may catch a glimpse of how it could be
if we think of a missionary who is a first-rate theologian, philosopher, and
mathematician, going to preach the Gospel to a very primitive tribe of savages
unable, let us say, to count more than ten.
The missionary learns their language.
He tries to think as they do, and to place his mind at their level.
He still knows his Plato and his Aquinas, but when he speaks in the language
of the tribe, he thinks, as far as he can, as a member of the tribe would think
apart from the message that he has come to bring them.
He cannot think as a member of the tribe about this because it is to teach them
this that he is there at all.
But even this must be preached in words
that they can understand with the crude background that their minds provide.
Of course it cannot be a complete parallel.
Our Lord has two natures, one of which is infinite, and the missionary has only
one.
But to believe that our Lord is truly God and truly Man seems to imply belief
that He was on earth both omniscient and ignorant.
There is no need
to speculate about the limits of His human nature now, though of course He is
still Man.
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He is not merely "a man", but "Man". He is the "Last
Adam" (I Cor.15.45), and is therefore, in a sense,
the summing up of all humanity, as St. Irenaeus says.
Thus it is certain
that our Lord was a Jew (the theories of some Germans that He was of Aryan
descent are supported by no evidence at all).
But it is equally certain that every race regards Him as its own.
He is an Englishman to the English, a Negro to the Negroes. He transcends
all racial distinctions, and even the distinction between male and female.
He includes within Himself all that is human.
He is the head of the human race, and in a real sense He is the human race.
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