Cyril of Alexandria on the Christian life

I am working this summer on my next book project: an anthology. The collection is focused on the Christian life and will include selections from across the Christian tradition, starting with the earliest post-apostolic Fathers to the present. I am collaborating on this project with two super-talented editors, and as I see it starting to come together I am so pleased! (Watch a short video about the book here).

This morning was fascinating. I worked on the selection from Cyril of Alexandria at Concordia Theological Seminary (Just down the road from me. A great library, really beautiful!). From Cyril’s many works I chose a selection from his commentary on the Gospel of John. I began with Pusey’s translation from the 19th century which was, let’s say, more than a little wooden. Thankfully the recent translation from David Maxwell is superb. Here’s a short outtake from the selection that will appear in the anthology:

st-cyril-of-alexandriaThe Son, by his authority, gives what belongs to him alone by nature and sets it forth as a common possession, making this a sort of image of the love he has for humanity and for the world. We who bore the image of the earthly man could not escape corruption unless the call to sonship placed in us the splendor of the image of the heavenly man [1 Cor. 15:49]. We became participants in him through the Spirit. We were sealed into his likeness, and we ascend to the archetypal form of the image according to which Holy Scripture says we were also made. Once we recover the ancient beauty of our nature in this way and are refashioned in relation to the divine nature, we will be superior to the evils that befell us because of transgression. Therefore, we rise up to an honor above our nature because of Christ […]

[T]hose who rise to divine sonship through faith in Christ are baptized not into anything originate but into the holy Trinity itself through the Word who is the mediator. He joins what is human to himself through the flesh that was united to him, and he is joined by nature to the Father since he is by nature God. In this way, the slaves ascend to sonship through participation in the true Son since they are called and so to speak raised to the honor that is in the Son by nature. Therefore, we who received the new birth through the Spirit by faith are called born of God, and that is what we are.

Notice what Cyril does. In order to ground the Christian life he traces its origin back behind Christ’s atoning work to his “nature” as God the Son, consubstantial with the Father. The life which the Son offers to us is his to give because he shares it with the Father by nature. By “nature” Cyril means that the Son shares in the same stuff that constitutes the Father as God. They are both God by “substance,” or by nature (it took the church centuries to find adequate words for this). We are creatures and therefore not God by nature. That is key for Cyril. As creatures we are fundamentally needy, dependent on another for life. We are saved only because we share God’s life by grace, through adoption in the Son. What we have in the Son is the very Life of God, ours through adoption.

Protestant Evangelicals have often stressed the atoning work of the Son nearly to the exclusion of the Son’s origin in the Godhead (thanks to our revivalist heritage). The resulting portrait of the Christian life typically hangs on the doctrine of justification, or more tenuously on sanctification in the Spirit. Cyril, however, ably reminds us that a strong theology of the Christian life requires grounding in a strong Christology and doctrine of the Trinity.

“Dear Pastor, you are not a business person…” Sincerely, St. Jerome

How does a servant of the church measure his or her success?

Every night the pastor lays their head on the pillow and measures the success of their day according to some criteria. What will those criteria be? The same criteria and standards are the measures by which the pastor marks the progress of those under their charge – other pastors or volunteers. Those standards also guide their daily work: in what should I devote my time and according to what methods should I do so?

Far too often I see pastors finding those standards and criteria in the world of business, the market economy. To the pastor who looks there, St. Jerome (AD347 – 420) would say this: “Pastor, you are not a business person! You must not let the standards and practices of the market economy set the terms for your success. Nor should you let the logic of marketing, sales, and distribution set the terms for where you and your partners in ministry devote your time, or the methods you apply in doing so.”

Consider the following selection from Jerome’s letter to Nepotian (Letter 52. AD394). Nepotian was once a soldier, but he left it for ministry in the church. Jerome wants to ensure that Nepotian does not look to his former career in order to find the standards and criteria for his vocation in the church. Jerome is so intent that Nepotian hears his plea that he shifts the formatting of his prose as he says, “Again and yet again admonish you…” Its an effective way of grabbing Nepotian’s attention before his main point.

Jerome5. A clergyman, then, as he serves Christ’s church, must first understand what his name means; and then, when he realizes this, must endeavor to be that which he is called. For since the Greek word κλῆρος means “lot,” or “inheritance,” the clergy are so called either because they are the lot of the Lord, or else because the Lord Himself is their lot and portion. Now, he who in his own person is the Lord’s portion, or has the Lord for his portion, must so bear himself as to possess the Lord and to be possessed by Him. He who possesses the Lord, and who says with the prophet, “The Lord is my portion,” can hold to nothing beside the Lord. For if he hold to something beside the Lord, the Lord will not be his portion. Suppose, for instance, that he holds to gold or silver, or possessions or inlaid furniture; with such portions as these the Lord will not deign to be his portion. I, if I am the portion of the Lord, and the line of His heritage, receive no portion among the remaining tribes; but, like the Priest and the Levite, I live on the tithe, and serving the altar, am supported by its offerings. Having food and raiment, I shall be content with these, and as a disciple of the Cross shall share its poverty. I beseech you, therefore, and

Again and yet again admonish you;

do not look to your military experience for a standard of clerical obligation. Under Christ’s banner seek for no worldly gain, lest having more than when you first became a clergyman, you hear men say, to your shame, “Their portion shall not profit them.” Welcome poor men and strangers to your homely board, that with them Christ may be your guest (Letter 52. Emphasis mine).

Jerome’s worry was specifically over worldly gain, money. He was writing three generations after the Edict of Milan (AD313). Now that Christianity was a tolerated religion in the Roman Empire, the profession of the clergy was being swamped by expectations and standards coming from outside the church and alien to the Gospel.

Is our situation different today?

Green Idolatry

Indiana morningI have often said that living in Colorado ruined me for everywhere else. I mean that it’s just so shockingly beautiful that everywhere else pales in comparison. I fell in love with Colorado in junior high, every spring break skiing Summit County. And as a college student I spent my summers guiding mountaineering trips across Colorado and California. Every chance I had I got to the wildest places I could find!

Given my love for wild places, I was immediately interested when I read Norman Wirzba’s warning about “green idolatry”:

It is tempting to think that genuine desire or affection is realized when we become worshipers of nature. But this is not so. To make the trek to beautiful vistas (often at considerable expense) runs the risk of a “green idolatry” in which mountains or lakes or species are commodified to fulfill an aesthetic desire. Too often the nature we seek in a “wilderness experience” is made to fulfill expectations about beauty. That places are beautiful is not the problem. But when we desire our relationship to nature to be mediated by the expectation that only places deemed pretty or spectacular are worthy of our attention, then we do witness an idolatry that condemns much of the world to neglect or even disparagement. What we often fail to realize is that our worship of nature’s beauty, especially our designations of certain kinds of landscapes or creatures as beautiful, is also fundamentally a reduction of the world to expectations that we bring to it. In this reduction great stretches are abandoned by us as unworthy and thus unlovable” (From Nature to Creation: A Christian Vision for Understanding and Loving Our World, p. 58).

Have I fully engaged the beauty of Indiana? Here in the flat places of the Midwest, have I looked at the earth in the same way I did in Colorado? Nope. Sure, out in the morning for a long run when the mist is rising I praise God, but the wild places startle me – catch me up short – in a different way.

But Wirzba’s diagnosis has made me pause, and I think I will look at the flat places differently. And I think I will look at me differently too.

The Contagion of Jesus

The following excerpt is from Sabastian Moore’s The Contagion of Jesus: Doing Theology as if it Mattered (Orbis Books, 2007):

The Washing of Feet.Sieger Koder

“The Washing of Feet” by Sieger Koder

There are two kinds of conversion. There is the conversion of the godless to God, and there is the conversion of the godly to the realization that he has been radically wrong about God, and about what God is asking of us…This second kind happened to Saul, and exceedingly godly man, on the way to Damascus about his God’s business. He had got God wrong. All-powerful over us, his God had become the image of our lust for power; God had what he wanted. And we have all remade God in our own image of being the power over us, reflecting a long history of violence and war.

To be converted to this God is devastating. And the image of this conversion is of a God not over us but under us, spat upon by priests and a barrack-square joke for soldiers, finally nailed to two bits of wood. Saul the Pharisee, trained in the God of law and rigour, knew of and abominated that image which a new sect was promulgating; it was against everything he’d stood for as a religious man, and so he had got God wrong. He was thrown, and fell helplessly in love with the humiliated one whom the real God had raised up, the God who comes to us from below, the oppressed among us and, in us, the God who – his arms stretched out to all the world by being nailed to our cross – is behind us so we don’t see him but sink into him and let him feed us with his flesh and blood – a horrendous idea for the then religion – and turn us slowly into himself, his body given to others in a new and all-enduring love (p. 10. Emphasis added).

Yes, convert us from our false gods; our gods of power and domination! But while Moore emphasizes the humility of Jesus by speaking of his below-ness, I would say it differently.

Rather than “the God who comes to us from below,” perhaps better: “the God who comes to us from the fellowship of God’s own life – his utter self-sufficiency – through the mission of his Son.” The mission of God the Son takes the form of his humiliation, but his humiliation is not that He comes to us from below but from his shared humanity with us. He is made like his brothers and sisters “in every respect” (Heb. 2; also Phil 2). Emphasis upon humility without corresponding stress upon his origin in the fellowship of the divine life risks depleting his sufficiency to save. It is not only his belowness that makes him sufficient – his shared humanity – but his origin in the divine fellowship as God the Son. That he shares life with God the Father (John 5:26) means that he comes to us overflowing with life to give, life to offer of himself. The grammar of the Christian tradition has always sought to hold both together: “begotten of the Father before all worlds; God of God, Light of Light, very God of very God” and “for our salvation, came down from heaven, and was incarnate” (Creed of Nicaea).

Lord Jesus Christ, free us of our false gods and draw us to yourself. 

On Earth as It Is in Heaven: A Review

Hallelujah! After two years — full of reading and writing and reading and thinking and writing some more — I am officially a graduate of Duke University Divinity School. I am incredibly grateful to have had the opportunity to study with many great folks and to have fallen in love with the city of Durham. Jessie and I have some serious thinking and praying to do concerning whether or not a PhD is in the cards; for now, we plan to travel. To fill the time between wrapping things up here in Durham and beginning our season of travel (in Nashville, TN!), I requested a few books to review for the blog.

W.m. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co. was kind enough to send along On Earth as It Is in Heaven: Cultivating a Contemporary Theology of Creation, edited by David Vincent Meconi,
SJ. This book is a collection of essays written by prominent Catholic Meconi_On Earth as it is in Heaven_wrk01.inddscholars and guided by a shared concern to theologically “resist the contemporary dangers of mindless acquisition and the consequent squandering of the earth’s rich resources” (p. 1). Each essay resists these contemporary dangers in a slightly different way. Some of the writing is quite dense, requiring a high level of attention and, for readers not trained in theology, perhaps a theological dictionary. The writers are masters of the theological craft. Agrarian writers, however, such as Wendell Berry, encourage interdisciplinary work, even at the risk of getting things wrong the first time around. I do not mention this to say that the writers of these essays have gotten things wrong. Rather, I mention it to note that many of these theologians are purposefully pushing themselves to think in new and exciting ways and that their thinking will only be refined as they become more comfortable writing at the intersection of Catholic theology and environmental matters. Continue reading

John Webster: A Remembrance

John WebsterI was very sad to learn late last night that John Webster, Professor of Divinity at St. Andrews, died suddenly yesterday morning. You can find a fine summary of John’s theology by Fred Sanders here and a eulogy by Stephen Holmes here. The internet will be full of tributes in days to come, but I want to offer a short remembrance.

John was the chair of the Divinity department when I completed my PhD at the University of Aberdeen. He was not my supervisor, but he was always available for a conversation. We had many (a testament to his generosity). I remember one in particular. It was so telling of John’s approach to theology. We were discussing God’s providence and the manner of his interaction with the world. At one point John leans back, puts his hand on his forehead and thoughtfully says, “In this matter I think we must give our attention first to God’s revealed character, and only then look to theories of causation. Character first, then causation.”

And that was John’s whole approach to theology. Whatever else it’s about, it is first and foremost about God – and principally about God’s life in himself. Hearing last night about John’s death was especially shocking because I had spent the day reading his recently published God Without Measure (it was like spending a day with him). There he writes,

Christian theology is a work of regenerate intelligence, awakened and illuminated by divine instruction to consider a twofold subject. This object is, first, God in himself in the unsurpassable perfection of his inner being and work as Father, Son and Spirit and in his outer operations, and, second and by derivation, all other things relative to him” (Vol. 1:3).

God first, then everything else in light of God. Whatever else we might say about God’s interaction with the world (his outer works), the theologian must first – diligently and cheerfully – give her attention to God’s life in himself. For John this was a corrective to so much that goes wrong in Christian thought, not least of which the migration of theology away from the praise of God. So quickly we slip from the register of doxology into speculation. But when we train our attention again and again back onto God the distance shortens between the work of sanctified reason and praise. John explains,

If Christian dogmatics wishes to offer a corrective, it can only  be by recalling itself to its proper calling, which is the praise of God by crafting concepts to turn the mind to the divine splendour. But deeply important as they are, concepts are only serviceable as the instruments of spiritual apprehension” (Vol. 1:27).

The spiritual apprehension the theologian seeks comes in this life as faith, not sight (Heb. 11:1). Following Aquinas (so often a voice in John’s recent work) he wrote, “Theology is oriented chiefly to invisible things, ‘things that are unseen’ (2 Cor. 4:18)” (Vol. 1:6). This is as it should be, for faith is the particular form of seeing fitting for the Christian life. But it will not always be so. In glory we will stand in the presence of God and share in his life. This was John’s hope and it is mine. As I grieve John’s death I praise God in the same breath that what he saw by faith he now has by sight.

Lord Jesus Christ, may your name be praised through the legacy of John’s work and the sweet remembrance of his friendship.

“Dear Lazy Preachers…” Sincerely, Martin Luther

Martin Luther regularly collected and published his sermons following the calendar of the church year. They were known as “postils,” and during his life they were some of his most read and beloved works. Luther himself was pleased with them but lamented that Luther-Preaching-in-Wittenbergsome “lazy” preachers read them word-for-word from the pulpit:

There are some lazy, no-good pastors and preachers who depend on these and many other good books that they can take a sermon out of. They don’t pray, study or read, pondering nothing in Scripture, just as if we need not read the Bible, using such books as a template and calendar to earn their living (LW 6281-85).

I appreciate Luther’s point, but I am conflicted. Let me explain.

On one hand, preaching verbatim another person’s sermon detracts from the essence of preaching: the pastor stands among his or her congregation and in the power of the Holy Spirit speaks the Word of the Lord as it is refracted through his or her unique humanity. That refraction, or mediation, is what makes preaching different, more even, than simply reading the Scriptures aloud. It affirms the goodness of creation as it is experienced in the preacher’s own humanity (docetism always lurks in the wings). So, beyond Luther’s point about the pastor’s engagement with the Scriptures through prayer in preparation for delivering a sermon (certainly right), there is also something distinctly human about preaching that is lost when a sermon from someone else is delivered.

Further, a sermon is spoken in the midst of the particular moment of a church’s life, a moment surely common to others but one that has never before occurred and never will again. The time in which a sermon is proclaimed is unique in the history of the cosmos: this pastor, in the midst of this congregation, at this moment in history!  The human and historical essence of preaching is depleted by preaching a sermon that is not native to a  community.

In Luther’s case the pastors forthrightly read his postils, but today it often happens without anyone’s knowledge. The son of a nationally known author and speaker told me that his father was once visiting a church and heard one of his sermons preached. Even the personal illustrations from his family’s life were used! I have also known several churches that removed their pastors for preaching sermons they found on the internet or borrowed from others. Pastors are under much pressure to perform in the pulpit, and the internet is an easy source of content.

On the other hand – hear me out – perhaps a pastor can rightly do what Luther lamented. Continue reading