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C) What is His place in creation?
All this points ultimately to the exceptional place, which Christ has in all of creation. One might even think that the person of Christ is a kind of great exception. Obviously, this is so in the sense of being unique. But what takes place in that person is precisely the incorporation of the Triune God to history, and to the whole of creation. Yet, this incorporation is not an irruption. It is just the opposite of an irruption because it is the very culmination of the molding ad extra of the Trinitarian life. This molding makes that a concrete individual may enter Trinitarian life. Enter that generating procession in which the Word radically consists via paternity, and that spiration in the Holy Spirit. Consequently He is the molding ad extra of the Trinitarian life, and at the same time the molding ad extra of the very divine Trinitarian reality. In this sense we must say that incarnation makes of Christ precisely the paradigm of the creation of every open essence. And, from my point of view, that is just the way we should interpret the Pauline phrase “the firstborn of all creation” (Col 1:15). Firstborn precisely because that is the radical paradigm of what every open essence is. For this reason the Epistle to the Colossians could say that he is not only the first born of all creatures, but in addition “the image” (in the singular), the authentic image “of the invisible God” (Col 1:15), clearly two sides of only one reality. And precisely because he is the authentic image of God He is the paradigm of every open essence.
What was the real and personal life of this famous individual? What was his substantive religation while he lived on this Earth? That will be the subject of the next section.
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II. THE PERSONAL LIFE OF CHRIST
In the previous section I presented the first of the three points I had resolved to develop after the exposition of the Christological dogma, from the Gospels to the Third Council of Constantinople. In what does the person of Christ consist? Who is Christ? And I mentioned that the one who has incarnated is not the Word merely as Son of the eternal Father, but as full physical reality, with his intelligence and his will identical to those of the Father. These form, though by way of identity, that reality the Nicene Creed calls consubstantial (we wonder why the bishops in Spain have eliminated that term, and written “of the same nature as the Father” since the text says homooúsios, consubstantial). At any rate, that Person incarnates. And that Person gives itself to creation, to the creation of a concrete man to whom in its physical reality that Person is now physically immanent. Or, putting it from the other point of view, this human reality is constitutively immersed in the divinity. Nevertheless, in this immanent presence of God in creatures (after all the humanity of Christ is a creature like any one of us) there are many degrees.
In the first place, we do have the reality of the divine presence in all of creation by reason of the very fontanality with which God has produced all things, and is in the depths of them after being created. That is the fontanal presence.
But there can be even deeper presences. For example, the presence the Trinity has (the One and Triune God) in the depths of the soul of the just. Of course, with degrees of internal presence more or less intimate in accordance with the degree of sanctity (let us put it that way) of a particular person. Naturally, this is not {288} only an external verification. Theologians, above all the Spanish theologians of the XVI and XVII century, speculated on this problem, and indeed some said a few things that appear somewhat quaint to me. According to Vázquez the presence of God in the soul of the just is nothing more than a greater or lesser modality of the universal presence of God in the depth of all creatures1. Also, that God does not have a greater presence in Palestine, in his house, than in any other thing present in the world... This, of course, is true from a certain point of view. However, is it the only truth? We had a great Spanish Jesuit theologian that insisted on the opposite. That the presence of the Trinity in the soul of the just is of such a caliber that He would be present with that special mode in the depth of the soul of the just and the holy2. And this would be so even if God were not present in creatures by any reason due to creation. This may seem a somewhat exaggerated thesis. After all, are we going to say that the presence of God in the soul of the just has nothing to do with the fontanal presence of God in all creatures? At any rate, there have been theologians that have maintained that the one is founded on the other3. Be that as it may, it is a presence different from the fontanal one, which increases with the increase of sanctity. In that case sanctity consists in an immersion of the soul of the just in the divinity. And reciprocally, in the degree of immanent presence of the divinity in the soul of the just.
Now, let us imagine that we are rising from immanence to greater immanence, from intimacy to greater intimacy. To such an extent that this man becomes not only immersed in the reality of God who has produced it, but has really {289} been incorporated into the very generating procession by which the Word is Word in the bosom of the Holy Trinity.
In that case we encounter an exceptional situation right from the outset. This man does not belong to himself; he actually belongs to the Word who possesses the his-ownness conferred to him by the fact of being incorporated to the generating procession of the Word as such. Reciprocally, let us start from what we have expounded when dealing with the Trinity, i.e., that in God the reason for person is anterior (if you will, a conceptual anteriority) to the reason for nature in which that person is realized. And this in such a way that God (the One Triune God) is intelligent and volitional because he is his own, and not the other way around (that he may be his own because he is intelligent and volitional). Then, we must say that the human individual who is immersed in that generating procession is of such a quality that the his-owness of the Word is realized, not only in the physical infinitude in which the very divinity consists, but also in a mysterious way (here is where the mystery resides) in that finite nature of man who is intelligent and volitional. And instead of being a person because he is intelligent and volitional he is a person because his intelligence and will are immersed in the generating procession in which the Word consists. Therefore, to say on the one hand that the Word is realized in a finite nature, and to say on the other that this finite nature does not belong to itself, but belongs to the Word is to say the same thing. And precisely in this identity, from my point of view, the formal reason for the divinity of Christ consists.
After having said this we must now retake the question in a more concrete manner. Because after all, this person, the person of Christ was born, lived on Earth, died on a certain day, resurrected, appeared, etc. He did have a life. Then {290} we ask, what is that personal life Christ has had from the point of view of what he is, i.e., Son of God? That is the problem of the personal life of Christ, which we must now engage.
A) In the first place, it will be necessary to refine what it is that I wish to ask when I articulate the question, in what does the personal life of Christ consist, since it is not that obvious. It is a problem that affects not only theology, because the sense in which I modestly intend to ask, theology in all its amplitude has never asked. Furthermore, it is something that the New Testament exegesis is clamoring for, having only remained at the door of the problem. Actually, the New Testament critical studies have gone through several phases.
1) At the beginning of the century, until 1914 or 1920, New Testament critical studies fundamentally consisted in textual and literary criticisms centering on the problem of the sources. Obviously, the fourth Gospel, written towards the end of the first century, and therefore, relatively distant from the first three, and with quite different characteristics from them remains apart, it is something special. It was enough to read the first three Gospels to see that they have identical phrases and paragraphs, and also different phrases and a different order. Then the question arises; these three Gospels called the Synoptics, what are they founded upon? Obviously their relationship cannot be limited to a mere oral tradition. After much discussion a solution was proposed overcoming all kinds of internal and external difficulties (including the Roman Curia) by saying the Synoptic Gospels ultimately rely on two sources. One source is the Gospel of Mark itself, which would be the first source of the other two Gospels. And the second, a collection of sayings and words of the Lord that were not allocated to that Gospel, and {291} probably were current for the use of the primitive community. This source was called “Q” from the German Quelle. That is the theory of the two sources.
2) The theory of two sources has had a great modification, not because the two may not be accepted, but because many are admitted now. The collection of sayings and doings is much more than a collection. At this point the New Testament criticism began a second phase. An attempt was made to take all the multiple sources that can be listed under the “Q” title as absolutely independent things. For example, there is no doubt there are sections showing it is the case of a liturgical hymn; others, that it is a catechesis; others, that it is a kérygma, a preaching; etc. Thus, the first intent of criticism was to place these different accounts in their proper living context (Sitz im Leben) so that as loose accounts they were able to make, and did make the rounds in the primitive community. That way, by placing these accounts in the life of the community, the continuity of the life of the community allowed (at least, in principle) to reach from these sporadic Gospel writings, from tradition to tradition, up to the very person of Christ. That was the second phase.
3) The third is more or less the present phase. That with all these elements each evangelist proposed to present a different logos of Christ. These are precisely the several “Christologies”, a multiplicity I have already mentioned before.
Still, I maintain that with all of the above, the theology and exegesis has remained at the door of the problem without entering into what I believe is the essential problem. In all modesty I do think this is the case.
a) In the first place, the very exegesis. Biblical exegesis with all its Sitz im Leben, despite all its history of the redaction of the Gospels, from the point of view of Christology encounters great difficulties, and problems {292} when it tries to descend to details. For example, the outstanding case is the one that concerns the knowledge of Christ, that Christ knew everything. But yet he did say, “But of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father” (Mk 13:32; Mt 24:36). The Roman Curia insisted that Christ knew everything. The exegetes replied that he had said he did not know it. The exegesis since then has changed course, and taken up the problem from very different points of view.
b) Of course, the problem of the knowledge of Christ became quite complicated because the theologians, on their own, had assigned to Christ several knowledges, not one, but several. In the first place, the knowledge he has as Son of God insofar as Word. This in the end presents no problem, as the eternal Triune God. But it does present a problem from the point of view of the human intelligence of Christ. On the one hand we are told that he had a plenary vision, a beatific vision. As Son of God he could see everything in God, he had an absolute knowledge. On the other hand, he had a knowledge called acquired, because obviously, he learned things in life. Still, on another hand, knowledge called infused, which revealed or manifested to him the mission he had to accomplish in this world. Of course, one may ask, can we turn Christ into some kind of skyscraper of knowledge? Be that as it may, this was a problem from the exegetical side, and also from the theologic side. But both approaches have remained at the limits of what for me is the essential point, the very mystery of the life of Christ. Certainly theology (it goes without saying) has been quite fertile with splendid treatises in great profusion, such as the ones from Suárez, on the mysteries of the life of Christ, the annunciation, the incarnation, the visit to the Temple of Jerusalem, etc., up to the resurrection and the ascension. This is in the {293} plural, the mysteries of the life of Christ. But I am referring to something more profound, that the very personal life of Christ upon Earth is in itself a mystery. In what does it consist? That is the problem that underlies every consideration of the mysteries of the life of Christ.
And it is a problem with a door, which the exegesis faces and does not open. How many times when reading these books about New Testament exegesis I have received the happy impression that the problem was going to be taken up. Not quite, the book would end there. And one wonders, is this problem not worth investigating? Certainly not as a theologic problem, but as something much more radical, as a theological problem. In what did the theological knowledge consist, the manner of being of the personal life of Christ? After all, Christ realized himself biographically. Naturally, of the biography of Christ many things can be said; for example, how he served others. Obviously, from what he taught at the Temple of Jerusalem until his death on the cross, and the conversations before the ascension, all those acts served mankind. It goes without saying. But the question is different, he realized himself as Word biographically, as Son of God. The question surfaces, what sense does this biography have, not for others, but for him? This is the question, which from my point of view, should have been asked. It is a theological question, what the personal life of Christ was, not for others, but for himself who was actually living it.
It will be enough to remember some of the doings in the life of Christ to understand the profound, and important sense this question has. For example, there is no doubt that Christ performs psychophysical acts just like anyone else; he eats, sleeps, smiles, etc. It can be said, well, Christ had a human nature, he was hungry, and he had to eat. The matter is not that clear, but anyway let us continue. The fact is that he performs {294} other acts that should have been included in the Christology. For example, not only is he hungry, but in addition he is surprised when they tell him that Lazarus is dead4. Was that a fiction? Christ performs acts of thinking, and volition, of will. There is no doubt about that. These acts, not only the psychophysical and sensitive, but (in the medieval terminology) the superior acts, what did they mean to him? He is surprised, asks, becomes sad, one day he becomes angry, and expels the merchants from the Temple... What does this mean to him?
But the question rises to another level, of course, if one realizes that Christ lived in a very particular society as an indefectible member, like anybody else, as it happens in other societies. And this society has its internal regulations. For example, in order to fulfill (not him personally, but his parents) a civil law, and having gone to register, Christ was born in Bethlehem. Clearly we have a whole set of regulations there. What did they mean for his own life? And not only this, but something more important, Christ performed acts that were strictly, and specifically religious. What sense does it make that Christ performs religious acts if he is the very Son of God? He did perform these acts, and we may recall some of the crucial scenes in the Gospel. No need to refer to the circumcision, since he was clearly taken by his parents in this case. But when he was twelve years old he was taken to the Temple of Jerusalem, and there he discusses and interprets Sacred Scripture with the doctors of the Law. We may ask, what did Christ intend with this? Only teach others?
{295} Furthermore, at approximately thirty years of age (we are not exactly sure of his age at this time), he decides to be baptized at the Jordan River. What does the baptism in the Jordan mean to Christ? Does it mean that he goes to ask forgiveness for his sins? That is impossible for the Son of God. Besides, he said it expressly in the Gospel; “can any of you charge me with sin?” (Jn 8:46). Christ did not approach baptism to be forgiven for sins. What was he trying to do? That others may find out he was the Son of God according to the text of the Gospel (cf. Mt 3:17)? I will not attempt here a long exegesis of this Gospel passage. Who heard the voice? How many heard it? What was the meaning? This is a complex matter. At any rate, the initial move to receive the baptism of John at the Jordan came from Christ’s own initiative. What sense did it make to him?
In addition, let us now look at the end of the life of Christ. At the cross Christ issues one of his seven words, “My God, my God, why have thou forsaken me?” (Mk 15:34). The question is what kind of forsaking? It has been suggested that it is a kind of dissociation of what Christ has as a human from what he has as the Word5. Yes, but is this exegesis acceptable? Because actually that is the first verse of a psalm, and Christ in all probability recited the entire psalm. A somewhat long psalm, which after the first two verses of the initial phrase it says, “you dwell in the Holy Place, the praise of Israel” (Ps 22:4). That is to say, even from the cross Christ invokes Yahweh present in the Temple of Jerusalem (Christ {296} on the cross was only two or thee hundred meters away from the Temple of Jerusalem). The psalm continues, and against what might be expected when the New Testament is read in a hurry, the psalm ends its second part with a song of hope (cf. Ps 22:23-32). Christ did not just allow himself to be brought low, he also had a song of hope. But then, what was the abandonment of Christ? Undoubtedly, it was his being abandoned as Son of God (no doubt about it). The psalm does not say who abandoned him, but that he has been abandoned to his enemies. What did these enemies mean to him, to his personal life? The same question that surfaced at the moment of baptism appears here, what did this mean to him and his life? The problem, therefore, stems from the very life of Christ. What did his biography, as a biography of the incarnate Son of God, mean to him personally beyond what it meant to others. The question should have been, in what does the theological conditioning of the biography of Christ consist? It should have appeared necessary to face the issue squarely in all its amplitude, without limiting it, for example, to merely asking about the knowledge of Christ, the parousía, etc., as I have indicated.
Of course, this problem may appear somewhat fictitious to some theologians. It may seem difficult, but I have had the occasion of observing this reaction in some great theologians. On the one hand it is said, “By the fact that he was the Son of God Christ had on Earth the beatific and plenary vision, the vision of God; what would have been the meaning of his biography to him?”. If that were so, then the life of Christ upon Earth would have been a perfect comedy. What does it mean that this man, who sees everything in God, and knows everything in a divine way under the light of lumen gloriae, may play the game (which it is, if he knows everything) so that he ignores some {297} things, knows others, asks questions, etc.? Is it the case then that the biography of Christ only has a pedagogical characteristic in order to educate others? That would be what I have called numerous times a biographical Docetism. The Docetism of the primitive Church believed that the body of Christ was fictitious. In the end, they believe that his biography, in what it has of biographical, is somewhat fictitious. That it is a biographical Docetism.
The same theologian would say to me, “fine, but that Christ may pray, is a thing that can be understood. After all, his humanity is a finite humanity as creature of God; it is normal for this humanity to render the homage that every finite person must render to God”. But that is precisely what we are asking, is it really the case that when Christ prays it is humanity that prays to the Father or is it the Son of God insofar as incarnated? Of course, from the point of view of the beatific vision, there has been a great theologian, Rahner, who has had a fruitful intuition, to distinguish on the basis of the immediate vision of God by reason of the divinity he had. That would be a Grundbefindlichkeit, as I mentioned above. But this vision could not be a beatifying one. Because it would be chimerical to pretend, for example, that Christ felt quite happy at the cross; what does this mean? I agree completely with Rahner, but with one observation, that inasmuch as the immediate vision is not beatifying, it means it is not a fullness. If not, how could it not possibly be beatifying? Then, we return to the same question, in what does this non-fullness of the immediate vision consist for the very biography of Christ? The problem remains outstanding.
Years back modernism, for example with Loisy, has affirmed that throughout the Synoptic Gospels Christ only appears as a Messiah, and that his filial conscience has been forming progressively. He did not know he was the Son of God, and was finding it as he went along. Clearly, the Church refused this posture. {298} How could we possibly admit this? But, in the end, throughout all these oscillations, the problem has been posited in its entire rigor.
For me the rigor of this problem resides precisely in having an integral vision of what the incarnation is. Sometimes it seems that the incarnation has consisted in God conferring his Personal reality to a singular individual of the human species. That is true, but it is absolutely insufficient. After all, the man Christ who walked on the streets of Jerusalem was a man with clear qualifications as a perfect Israelite, son of a carpenter, etc. He was not a singulum of the human species, but a perfectly definite individual. But in addition this perfectly definite individual had social determinants. He belonged to a social stratum, a social class, etc. He had these qualifications not only as an individual taken in the abstract, of a principle of individuation of the usual metaphysics, but a concrete individuality. What I would call principles of concretion. This is clear, but is that all? We would have to lengthen the issue, and say that the Word incarnated not only as a particular singular and social individual, but incarnated precisely as a human reality constituted biographically. The problem begins here. In what does this biographical incarnation consist? That is the problem that should have been faced, because now what is clearly posited is the problem of what the meaning of the biographical incarnation of the Son of God was insofar as biographical for the very Son of God. This is the problem of the personal life of Christ. For this reason I was saying that the problem is not as obvious as it might seem at first sight.
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1 Cf. G. Vázquez, S.J. (1549-1604), Pars prima Summae Theologiae S. Thomae Aquinatis cum commentariis et disputationibus, disp. 30, ch. 3, nos. 11-13.
2 Cf. F. Suárez, S.J. (1548-1617), De Trinitate, bk. 12, ch. 5, nos. 10-13.
3 Cf. John of St. Thomas, O.P. (1589-1644), Cursus Theologicus, disp. 37, art. 3.
4 “When Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who had come with her weeping, he became perturbed and deeply troubled” (Jn 11:32-33).
5 That is the solution proposed by St. Hilary of Poitiers facing the Arian interpretation of this text, cf. his De Trinitate, lib. 10, c. 62, in J.-P. Migne, Patrologiae cursus completus, series latina, t. 10, Paris, 1845, p. 391.