Posted by from Fr. Pat Reardon (dcalvert) on 11/27/2007, 12:52 pm
December 2, 2007
Third Sunday of Advent
Father Pat's Pastoral Ponderings
The dogma of the Incarnation is not just one of the teachings of the Christian Church. The Word's assumption of our humanity may be described, rather, as the structural principle, a kind of Formal Cause, of the Christian revelation. It contours the Christian religion in all its elements. Perhaps we may speak of an "Incarnation Principle," according to which the sundry components of the Christian faith are formally determined.
To illustrate at least one aspect of this Incarnation Principle, it may be useful to contrast the Christian religion with the world's second largest religion, Islam. I propose to do this with respect to the very notion of Revelation.
I certainly hope not to be invidious in this comparison; I will sincerely endeavor not to misrepresent Islam in even the slightest measure. Indeed, I hope to say nothing about which any responsible Muslim scholar would disagree.
Anyway, to appreciate the difference between Islam and the Church with respect to the notion of "Revelation," we may start with Islam. According to universal Muslim teaching, Muhammad received the contents of the Qu'ran by direct dictation from the Archangel Gabriel. It is the unmixed word of God, according to this belief; it is in no formal sense the composition of Muhammad.
That is to say, the Qu'ran's message in no way entered into or came through the creative literary powers of Muhammad himself. He simply wrote from dictation, word for word. In this sense, the Qu'ran remained external to him. Muhammad was not its author. This is not my view of the matter. It is something on which all Muslims agree.
Now I submit that this Muslim view of "Revelation" is radically alien to what the Christian religion means by the same word. What is missing in Islam is what I have called "The Incarnation Principle." That is to say, we Christians believe that God does not speak to man in a way that remains exterior to him. We Christians do not believe that divine Revelation was simply "dictated." If the pun be pardoned, we Christians insist that the biblical God is not a "dictator."
On the contrary, according to Christian theology God speaks to man through the inner creative workings of his mind and heart. In that inspiration by which God caused the Holy Scriptures to be written, man himself was a co-worker with God, a synergos. God's word is likewise, then, the word of some human being who is properly called an "author."
Thus, we believe that the teaching of the Pentateuch is not simply the word of God, but also the word of Moses. We contend that God spoke to Moses through divine inspiration, a Spirit-breathed process that included the thinking and imaginative powers of . . . Moses. The Incarnation Principle means that God's word was filtered through-digested by-the mind and heart of a human author.
Revelation comes to us, accordingly, through the inner anguish of Jeremiah, the soaring minds of John and Isaiah, the probing questions of Job and Habakkuk, the near despair of Qoheleth, the structured poetry of David, the disappointments of Jonah, the struggles of Nehemiah, the mystic raptures of Ezekiel, the slow, patient scholarship of Ezra, the careful narrative style of Mark, the historical investigations of Luke, and the methodical, ponderous thinking of Paul.
According to the Incarnation Principle, God's Word finds expression in inspired literature, because it first assumed flesh in human thought and imagination. This truth is indicated in that vision where Ezekiel sees God's word on a scroll that he must eat. That is to say, God's word always comes to us in a fermented, pre-digested form
This element of fermentation in God's Word prompts me to liken it to cheese and wine. To extend the analogy, we may think of the authors of Holy Scripture as various fermenting agents, each of them bringing a distinctive flavor and consistency. The Incarnation Principle is what causes Proverbs to taste like a robust Cheddar, for example, while Sirach feels more like Havarti. Among the Psalms, we discern both Cabernet and Sauvignon, and among the Gospels we revel in everything from Port to Muscatel. Or, moving from the Pentateuch through Joshua, Judges, and Samuel, let us think of it as an adventure going from Chianti to Bordeaux, Chablis, and Beaujolais, Or, to return to cheese, let us think of the weary reader tireing of Peter's Cheshire. Well, here comes James with a bit of Brie, or maybe Paul to spread a plate of Podravec. Perhaps this theory may even settle some touchy exegetical concerns. If we think of the Chronicler’s story, for instance, as a kind of Swiss, this would at least account for the narrative holes in his work.
These blessings, in short, all taste different, because God's Word, which is our food and drink, has already been incarnated in—has passed through the digestive processes of—the human heart, the inspired mind and imagination of man. We always receive the Word of God as the word of men. This is the Incarnation Principle.
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