Category Archives: Belief in Christ

Tolkien’s Vision of Creation, Sin, and Redemption

Background on Tolkien’s approach to writing myth/legend

JRR Tolkien had a profound theology/philosophy of what it meant to write mythology. Rather than denigrating it as “mere” fiction, he saw creating mythology as an aspect of what it means to be made in the image of God. If God is a Creator, then we are “sub-creators,” capable of devising “Secondary Worlds” that reflect the real/“Primary World.” We see throughout the Scriptures the way that God invites us into His work, not choosing to do everything apart from us, but calling humans constantly to be co-workers with the plan of redemption. Saints are not “rivals” to God’s work (as some misunderstand it), but rather shining examples of God’s grace in action.

Tolkien saw the challenge of authors to be to create a Secondary World with the “the inner consistency of reality.” If this was done correctly, readers would be able to imagine themselves actually living in that world – something that Tolkien called “Secondary Belief.” He wrote: “To make a Secondary World inside which the green sun will be credible, commanding Secondary Belief, will probably require labour and thought, and will certainly demand a special skill, a kind of elvish craft. Few attempt such difficult tasks. But when they are attempted and in any degree accomplished then we have a rare achievement of Art: indeed narrative art, story-making in its primary and most potent mode” (from his essay “On Fairy Stories”).

This Secondary World has to be like our world in some ways, but unlike it in others. The difference is what allows it to shock us out of the familiarity that makes us miss what is truly fantastic in our everyday experience. It also lets us see old truths in new ways. It is similar to Jesus’ use of parables – images that draw us into truth through story. In one of his most significant letters, Tolkien explains, “I believe that legends and myths are largely made up of ‘truth,’ and indeed present aspects of it that can only be received in this mode” (Letter 131). 

Tolkien’s Image of Creation

On this note, I want to share a little about the way that Tolkien approached Creation in his Legendarium (“Legendarium” refers to the massive amount of background material that he prepared around the stories of the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings). This text can be found in the Silmarillion, the central writings that were put together and published after his death by his son Christopher. Here I give the text written by Tolkien in italics, with my commentary in brackets. You will notice that Tolkien writes the text in a more archaic style, a method to evoke the sense that we are reading something from the olden days. He uses the image of singing to represent sharing in the thought and music of God. It is set as a prelude to the actual creation of the world, considering how God might have planned for the work that was to come. This happens through the cooperation of the Ainur, who represent the highest angels – including Melkor, the one who introduces discord into the song (representing the devil). This account of creation shows the way that God works through this interference to create beauty.

There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar; and he made first the Ainur, the Holy Ones, that were the offspring of his thought, and they were with him before aught else was made. And he spoke to them, propounding to them themes of music; and they sang before him, and he was glad. But for a long while they sang only each alone, or but few together, while the rest hearkened; for each comprehended only that part of the mind of Iluvatar from which he came, and in the understanding of their brethren they grew but slowly. Yet ever as they listened they came to deeper understanding, and increased in unison and harmony.

 [“Eru” means “the One,” and is the first title given to God by Tolkien. It represents one aspect of the truth perceived in many stories of God – that this being is the one who has no equal. The second title – “Ilúvatar” – means “All-father.” It highlights a second key aspect of God perceived by religion broadly speaking, that God is the “uncaused cause,” the one who exists by nature and not by previous action of another being, the Creator of creation. The creation of the Ainur corresponds to the creation of the angels.]

And it came to pass that Iluvatar called together all the Ainur and declared to them a mighty theme, unfolding to them things greater and more wonderful than he had yet revealed; and the glory of its beginning and the splendour of its end amazed the Ainur, so that they bowed before Iluvatar and were silent. Then Iluvatar said to them: ‘Of the theme that I have declared to you, I will now that ye make in harmony together a Great Music. And since I have kindled you with the Flame Imperishable, ye shall show forth your powers in adorning this theme, each with his own thoughts and devices, if he will. But I will sit and hearken, and be glad that through you great beauty has been wakened into song…

[Here God invites the angels to share in his work of creation – they are entrusted with the role of “sub-creating” (explained in the first part of this post), to utilize the gifts given to them by God to enrich the world. Chief of these gifts is the “Flame Imperishable, which represents a share in God’s own uncreated life, which incorporates the ideas of existence and grace]

But as the theme progressed, it came into the heart of Melkor to interweave matters of his own imagining that were not in accord with the theme of Iluvatar; for he sought therein to increase the power and glory of the part assigned to himself. To Melkor among the Ainur had been given the greatest gifts of power and knowledge, and he had a share in all the gifts of his brethren. He had gone often alone into the void places seeking the Imperishable Flame; for desire grew hot within him to bring into Being things of his own, and it seemed to him that Iluvatar took no thought for the Void, and he was impatient of its emptiness. Yet he found not the Fire, for it is with Iluvatar. But being alone he had begun to conceive thoughts of his own unlike those of his brethren. Some of these thoughts he now wove into his music, and straight-way discord arose about him, and many that sang nigh him grew despondent, and their thought was disturbed and their music faltered; but some began to attune their music to his rather than to the thought which they had at first. Then the discord of Melkor spread ever wider, and the melodies which had been heard before foundered in a sea of turbulent sound. But Iluvatar sat and hearkened until it seemed that about his throne there was a raging storm, as of dark waters that made war one upon another in an endless wrath that would not be assuaged.

[Melkor is the representation of Satan/Lucifer – created as a high angel, but who turned away from God out of pride. Tolkien represents this pride as seeking the Fire (God’s life) apart from God, and his disruption of the plan of creation as introducing discord into the singing of the Ainur, leading to the fall of others.]

Then Iluvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that he smiled; and he lifted up his left hand, and a new theme began amid the storm, like and yet unlike to the former theme, and it gathered power and had new beauty. 

[Here, God introduces a counter theme to the discord of Melkor/Satan. This is the promise of redemption (see Genesis 3:15). Rather than destroying us after the Fall, God chooses to redeem us – like the decision to renovate a house instead of demolish it.]

But the discord of Melkor rose in uproar and contended with it, and again there was a war of sound more violent than before, until many of the Ainur were dismayed and sang no longer, and Melkor had the mastery. Then again Iluvatar arose, and the Ainur perceived that his countenance was stern; and he lifted up his right hand, and behold! a third theme grew amid the confusion, and it was unlike the others. For it seemed at first soft and sweet, a mere rippling of gentle sounds in delicate melodies; but it could not be quenched, and it took to itself power and profundity. And it seemed at last that there were two musics progressing at one time before the seat of Iluvatar, and they were utterly at variance. The one was deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came. The other had now achieved a unity of its own; but it was loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated; and it had little harmony, but rather a clamorous unison as of many trumpets braying upon a few notes. And it essayed to drown the other music by the violence of its voice, but it seemed that its most triumphant notes were taken by the other and woven into its own solemn pattern. 

[Melkor contends against the plan of salvation by pushing for a new discord (which Tolkien describes as “loud, and vain, and endlessly repeated” – depicting the way that sin has a repetitive and uncreative aspect about it). God counters with an even more profound theme (the salvation of Christ, which brings good out of evil – “deep and wide and beautiful, but slow and blended with an immeasurable sorrow, from which its beauty chiefly came”). One can understand the way Tolkien describes this if familiar with the challenges of his own life – the death of his father when he was three years old, the shunning of his mother by her family when she entered the Catholic Church, the death of his mother when he was twelve years old, his time as an orphan, the challenging courtship of the love of his life, his experience of the horrors of trench warfare as a soldier in World War I, and the death/separation of all of his close friends from the same conflict. Despite all of these sorrows and reasons for despair, Tolkien found healing and hope in the Gospel. He did not see faith as something for the faint of heart, but something that could confront real darkness and bring light.]

In the midst of this strife, whereat the halls of Iluvatar shook and a tremor ran out into the silences yet unmoved, Iluvatar arose a third time, and his face was terrible to behold. Then he raised up both his hands, and in one chord, deeper than the Abyss, higher than the Firmament, piercing as the light of the eye of Iluvatar, the Music ceased. Then Iluvatar spoke, and he said: ‘Mighty are the Ainur, and mightiest among them is Melkor; but that he may know, and all the Ainur, that I am Iluvatar, those things that ye have sung, I will show them forth, that ye may see what ye have done. And thou, Melkor, shalt see that no theme may be played that hath not its uttermost source in me, nor can any alter the music in my despite. For he that attempteth this shall prove but mine instrument in the devising of things more wonderful, which he himself hath not imagined.

[Finally, God brings the music to an end, representing the definitive plan for the course of the world. The singing represented the formation of the plan of Creation – now God will play out the music through events: Creation, the Fall, the Redemption, and the time of the Church until the end of the world. In this process, Tolkien gives a response to the problem of evil. This is seen especially in the final sentences (if it is helpful, here is a rendering in modern speech: “And you, Melkor, will see that nothing can be done that does not have its ultimate basis in me, nor can anyone change the course of events without my permission. For the one who tries to work against me, will find that I use the attempts to disrupt my plan to bring about things even more wonderful, and which the one disrupting me did not even imagine”). In this, God highlights that He will use the evil introduced by Melkor to produce greater beauty. This is where the analogy of music particularly shines – musical notes that seem to only make discord in the melody can be woven in with other notes to make a pleasing harmony. The music becomes richer for this, rather than uglier. This truth is proclaimed during the Exsultet at the Easter Vigil: “Oh happy fault that earned so great, so glorious a Redeemer.” Instead of just restoring Adam and Eve to the life that they had in the Garden, God gives us a deeper, more profound share in the life of Christ on earth, and in His glory in heaven. In the end, Melkor’s plots against God only result in a greater mercy.]

I hope that this meditation is helpful for you to see the mystery of the Creation, the Fall, and the Redemption in a new light!

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell

[Week 7 of the Imagination in Action reflection series. Theme this week: True Faith]

Is magic real? If so, what is its truest expression? These questions stand at the heart of Susanna Clarke’s 2004 novel “Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell.” The story is set in the 1800’s in an alternate history of England in which magic once existed. It follows various scholars of magic as they seek to reawaken the practice. I found this book fascinating, and in large measure because of the reflection that it offers on living faith. (Note: there is also a miniseries adaptation available on Netflix. It is not bad, but varies in a number of ways from the book and loses some of my favorite parts).

The first two paragraphs of the book provide a good context for how we can make a parallel with faith:

Some years ago there was in the city of York a society of magicians. They met upon the third Wednesday of every month and read each other long, dull papers upon the history of English magic.

They were gentleman-magicians, which is to say they had never harmed any one by magic – nor ever done any one the slightest good. In fact, to own the truth, not one of these magicians had ever cast the smallest spell, nor by magic caused on leaf to tremble upon a tree, made on emote of dust to alter its course or changed a single hair upon any one’s head. But, with this one minor reservation, they enjoyed a reputation as some of the wisest and most magical gentlemen in Yorkshire.

After this, the chapter describes how one of the meetings was disrupted by the question of why they never practiced magic, and the many excuses offered by the members of the society. They saw practicing what they studied as undignified and beneath their social station. Here we can see a parallel with the strength that faith once possessed in England, and the way that many of the “gentleman-theologians” of the 1800s had continued to study faith, but merely as something historically interesting, and not a living part of their life. Modifying the questions I mentioned at the beginning of this post, we can first ask “Is faith real?” Then, “What does its true expression look like in our lives?”

Is faith real?

I think many people discount faith because they think of it in terms of “blind faith.” I dislike this phrase because I do not think it is accurate to Christian belief. “Blind faith” implies believing something without evidence, and can easily lead into unhealthy or destructive expressions of belief. Although it is true that faith ultimately requires a step of belief, we do not make this step “blind” but can look at motives of credibility (reasons to believe). We might look at the predictions of Christ in the Old Testament (existing long before Jesus walked the earth) or accounts of His miracles. But, I think the most compelling is to look at the Resurrection and the transformation of the Apostles.

If Jesus did not rise from the dead, then why does Christianity exist? Some religions were the development of folk myths that did not face any particular challenge from the surrounding culture (eg the belief in the Greek gods). We can look at other religions that were accompanied by gains in wealth, military power, or public prestige in their early years. While it is true that after the time of Emperor Constantine Christianity became publicly accepted and there was the temptation to profess faith simply for its worldly benefits, this was almost 300 years after the time of Christ and cannot explain the origins of Christianity. The early followers of Christ had to embrace serious public difficulties in accepting the faith.

We have many writings from the first century of Christianity (many overlapping with the life of the Apostles) that we can look at – St Polycarp of Smyrna, St Ignatius of Antioch, St Irenaeus of Lyons, St Justin Martyr, or the letter of the Roman Governor Pliny to Emperor Trajan (to give a few examples). So, it is not credible to say that the account of Christ’s life was manufactured hundreds of years after His lifetime when there was no means of knowing the truth.

Most of all, I think we have to look at the transformation of the Apostles. St John Chrysostom points out that we have to wonder why they were afraid to follow Jesus while He lived (running away at the time of the crucifixion), but were bold to profess Him after His death. Why suffer and die for something you knew was a lie? Likewise, the claim that they all had the exact same hallucination and all held firm to it to the end seems hard to believe. These could have been disproven in the early years by presenting the body of Jesus still in the tomb. I think the most credible explanation is that they did encounter the risen Christ, and this was the source of their transformation. Therefore, we are not asked to accept a “blind faith,” but one that rests on solid witness.

What does faith’s true expression look like in our lives?

This leads us to our next question in regards to true faith: its lived experience. Returning to “Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell,” we see that even if some of the magicians believed that magic actually had existed, it had no impact in their life. They felt more pressure to follow the social conventions of their time than what they studied. This is likewise a great challenge to us today. The obstacle to faith in many people may not be historical questions about the Resurrection, but the poor witness that we as Christians sometimes give. St James writes in the Bible that, “faith without works is dead” (James 2:26). True faith is built upon confidence in the words of Christ, and it is expressed in allowing transformation in our life. Too often we hold back in fear from letting go of the worldly promises for happiness: power, popularity, possessions, or pleasure. We see the good fruit of faith in the lives of saints and holy people we know, but aren’t ready (or sure) how to follow them.

I don’t write this to discourage anyone in their faith, but for encouragement to embrace the season of Easter. The transformation of the lives of the Apostles is not described as happening in a single day. Instead, Jesus spends forty days with them until the Ascension, strengthening them in their new-found faith. He then instructs them to spend nine days in prayer before receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost (the fiftieth day). It is at this point that we see them sent forth to begin preaching.

So, if our assessment of our life of faith right now leaves us feeling down, let us remember that Easter is not a single day. It is a season that stretches across those same fifty days that the Apostles experienced. It is a time to ask the Lord to give us strength and confidence, as well as a deeper outpouring of the Holy Spirit. This is difficult to do alone, and so I am going to change the focus of my reflections leading up to Pentecost. During Lent I looked mainly at our personal spiritual life. During Easter I will look at the mission of a parish and how connection with our parish helps to nourish this transformation of faith. God bless!

Rudy

[Week 5 of the “Imagination in Action” series. Topic this week: the theological virtue of hope]

One of my favorite movies as a kid was “Rudy.” It is based on the true story of Daniel “Rudy” Ruettiger and his quest to make the Notre Dame football team. His first major challenge was even getting accepted to the University of Notre Dame. He struggled with school (he was eventually diagnosed with dyslexia) and came from a working-class family without a history of attending college. The second major challenge was his small size and lack of the physical gifts that normally were needed to play football at the college level (let alone at Notre Dame!). He persevered through these obstacles to become a Notre Dame student, make the football team as a walk-on, and eventually play 27 seconds in the final home game of his senior year. He was able to sack the quarterback on his last play (his only career stat). This led to him being carried off the field, the first time this had been done for a Notre Dame player. While some of the aspects of the movie were played up for dramatic effect, all of the parts I mentioned here are true, and make the movie that much more inspirational!

This film is an iconic example of hope in my mind. One of its famous lines is, “Having dreams is what makes life tolerable.” Hope motivates us to look to the future and not give up in the midst of trial. However, I think this concept of “hope” can be seen in two different ways. On the one hand, it could just be seen from the human perspective – a sort of “wishful thinking.” Hope could merely be the decision to look with optimism at a situation and see the glass “half full,” as they say.

The Christian sense of hope as a theological virtue, on the other hand, is built on a different foundation. The Catechism teaches, “Hope is the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ’s promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit” (paragraph 1817). It goes on to add, “Hope is the ‘sure and steadfast anchor of the soul . . . that enters . . . where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf.'” (paragraph 1820, quoting Hebrews 6:19-20). In other words, the virtue of hope is not grounded in our own ability, but in confidence in God’s grace. It is the “anchor” that holds us steady in the midst of the tide and the storms of life. It counteracts the great temptations of discouragement and despair, that can kill the “dream” within us and lead us to settle for less.

Even though the movie “Rudy” doesn’t draw out this divine dimension directly, the connection with Notre Dame provides a strong backdrop of faith. It is one of the most well-known Catholic universities in the country, and its name is French for “Our Lady” (named after the virgin Mary). There are many connections between the movie and faith in my own experience, as well. My mother grew up in South Bend (where Notre Dame is located) and I associate it with the witness of faith from her and my grandparents. Bishop Jenky (the bishop of Peoria) spent much of his priesthood at Notre Dame and is a member of the Holy Cross order that founded the university. One of my classmates in seminary even had the real-life father of Rudy as his Confirmation sponsor! (Rudy’s dad was a member of his parish and agreed to do this for students on the condition that they didn’t mention the movie… apparently he didn’t like the way it portrayed him!). Looking back years later, it is also fitting that Sean Astin portrayed both Rudy and Samwise Gamgee (the Hobbit in Lord of the Rings that especially exemplifies hope).

In the end, true hope is a life-giving power that finds its foundation in something beyond human optimism. It is living our life grounded with confidence in the power of God, even when we cannot see the way forward clearly. Let us set our sights on the greatness of our calling (both here and hereafter), and never lose the gift of hope!

The Monsters and the Critics

[Week 1 of the “Imagination in Action” reflection series. Introduction to the series.]

JRR Tolkien is best known for writing The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit. However, his main career was not as an author – this was a sort of side-hobby for him. Instead, he was a professor of Anglo-Saxon language (aka Old English) at Oxford. Beowulf (an epic Old English poem) was a key area of study for him. It tells the tale of a hero named Beowulf that arrives to save a kingdom from the attacks of a demonic creature named Grendel (and Grendel’s mother), and then at the end of his life must also defend against an attack by a dragon. Beowulf slays the dragon, but dies of his wounds.

Tolkien gave a famous lecture on this story, which was later published as an essay called “The Monster and the Critics.” Here Tolkien responded to critics that complained that the story of Beowulf was too simplistic for an epic. Rather than the grand travels of something like the Odyssey by Homer, it only talked about a couple of battles against monsters. In response to this critique Tolkien argued that by limiting its scope it actually widened its applicability. He wrote that, “It glimpses the cosmic and moves with the thought of all men concerning the fate of human life and efforts.” The monsters could be seen to represent the struggles of the beginning and end of life, and hinted at the supernatural aspect of faith. Putting the “monsters” in the forefront of the story was a deliberate choice based on what the author wanted to convey.

This connects with a general principle that Tolkien believed about ancient myths/legends. In one of his letters he wrote, “I believe that legends and myths are largely made up of ‘truth,’ and indeed present aspects of it that can only be received in this mode.” He is not saying that Bilbo Baggins or Beowulf existed historically, but that their stories tell true things about our world. Some of these truths might be obscured by the complexity of life. By setting the stories in a fictional world, an author can help us to see our world in a different light. Tolkien sought to follow this ancient pattern of myth and legend in the way that he wrote the Lord of the Rings. He wanted a story that highlighted many of the real struggles of life through the “sub-creation” of an alternate reality.

My appreciation for Tolkien has only grown as I’ve read these other works of his that explain his vision and philosophy of “myth.” It sparks my imagination to enjoy stories both in themselves and in the ways they illuminate reality. It also explains why certain stories, very simple in themselves, can have such a powerful impact on us. And, ultimately, I think it helps us to understand why the Word was made Flesh, and lived among us. The life of Christ brings together all of these glimpses at truth in the actual course of human events, and invites us to see our life in this larger dimension.

“The Search” Parish Study

This week we are beginning an online study called “The Search!” I thought I’d give a little explanation of it here to help build connections.

It is produced by the Augustine Institute, and available through their formed.org streaming service. This is a great, user-friendly way to connect with a lot of high-quality materials for growing in faith (it uses the same interface as Netflix, which probably helps for many!). It can be used through your web browser or through an excellent app. St Malachy/St Elizabeth parishioners can get a free log-in by noting that they belong to the parish on the log-in screen, otherwise you may need to check with your local parish to see about availability.

Out of all of the series on the website, why did I choose to start with “The Search?” I think it provides an excellent step-by-step reflection on our search for God, and therefore is a great resource for anyone, no matter where they are on the spectrum of faith. As we go through the seven videos in the series, we are asked to begin our reflection on the desires of the human heart and our identity. The topics then move through the encounter with God, our encounter with Jesus Christ, and our encounter with the Catholic Church. Along the way we are able to reflect on the reasons for our belief as well as make/deepen a personal connection.

Each Sunday I will share a link to the next excerpt on my social media (see the links on the sidebar of the main page of this website), and each Thursday I will host a discussion on Facebook live at 5:30pm (6pm en español). All are welcome! If you’re not able to join this live, the recap will be available to view on Facebook/YouTube.

Here is a short excerpt (four minutes) from the first video, which should be accessible to all: http://watch.formed.org/videos/the-search-excerpt-what-do-you-seek (the full twenty minute version is available on formed.org).

También hay una versión en español: http://watch.formed.org/videos/thesearch-ep1-formed-esp-1

I hope you can take part in this reflection, God bless!

Who was Blessed Miguel Pro?

Miguel Pro was born in the state of Zacatecas in Mexico in 1891. He entered the seminary to study to be a priest in 1911, but had to leave when anti-Catholicism in Mexico caused the seminary to close in 1914. He snuck out of the country and was able to complete his studies in Spain. His family wasn’t able to attend his ordination and so after the Mass he blessed pictures of his family instead.

In 1926 he was allowed to return to Mexico, despite the fact that President Plutarco Calles had effectively outlawed practicing the Catholic faith. Miguel Pro had been known for his sense of humor, and began to use his skill at disguises to continue his priestly ministry. He would dress as a janitor or other worker to gain entrance to houses. My favorite ruse was that he carried a police officer’s uniform and at times was able to change into it when the authorities arrived, and escape by joining in on his own search!

Eventually, however, Calles created false charges that he had been involved in an assassination attempt on one of his officials. He arrested Miguel and had him executed by firing squad without trial. Calles even had each step of the execution photographed in an attempt to scare off others protesting his persecution of the Church. Miguel asked for permission for time to kneel and pray, forgave his executioners, and then stood facing them with his arms outstretched in the form of a cross (holding a crucifix and rosary in his hands). He declined a blindfold and died proclaiming the motto of the Cristero movement: “¡Viva Cristo Rey! – Long live Christ the King! Forty-thousand people attended his funeral. Rather than crushing opposition to Calles’ rule, Miguel served as a powerful witness against him. He was declared “blessed” (the step before sainthood) as a martyr by Pope John Paul II in 1988.

It can be difficult to imagine why someone dedicated to the simple life of celebrating the sacraments for his people should have met with such firm resistance and a brutal death. Unfortunately, all too often Christ’s words have proven true: “If they persecuted me, they will also persecute you” (John 15:20). Christianity calls its members to serve as “salt and light” in the world, but history is full of times that governments have found this way of life unacceptable. Why is this? There are different reasons at different times, but we see the patter of Christ’s life repeating in them. By proclaiming a limit to human authority the Gospel stands as something opposed to absolute claims of power made in this world. It challenges every one of us to examine our own heart, and then proposes this challenge to the culture at large. Miguel’s love for Christ over-flowed into sacrificial love for his people. May his example continue to shine for us.

Why believe in Christ? Part I: What sets him apart

Today I thought I’d post on the “second level” of belief. I’ve done a couple of posts on the “first level” (belief in God in general), and so now we move on to the question of Jesus Christ. Why believe in him among other religions? At this point I am not distinguishing between different groups of Christians (Catholics, Protestants, Orthodox, etc), but looking at Christ himself. I think the first point is to understand the basic difference that we believe separates Christ from other prophets or holy people. It is well portrayed in a passage from Matthew 16:

“Who do people say that the Son of Man is?” [The disciples] replied, “Some say John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” [Jesus] said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Simon Peter said in reply, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Jesus said to him in reply, “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my heavenly Father.”

The question here centers on his identity rather than any particular action. Usually a person is significant to us because of what they have done. It is the opposite for Christ—his actions are significant because of who he *is.* From eternity he is the Son of God (the Second Person of the Trinity). In time he takes on human nature as the Son of Man (born of the Virgin Mary). He is therefore true God and true man, one Person with two Natures (divine and human). A nature is a source of action, so by his divine nature he knows and loves in an infinite way. By his human nature, though, he is able to share in suffering and death (and to know and love in a human way). Therefore, he is able to live a human life but filled with a perfect charity.

What problem did he come to solve? The separation between mankind and God. We see, then, that in his own Person he reconciles the two! The work of redemption involves the joining together of these two realities. Salvation involves sharing in the divine life. Divine life overcomes the limitation of death, sickness, and sin. It offers an invitation to hope and love in a manner that surpasses human nature alone—as seen in the lives of the saints. As Athanasius put it, God became man that man might become God. Christ possesses divine life by nature, but we can possess it by participation. It is not something that we can create ourselves—it transcends created things. We believe that God has freely chosen to offer this to us through Christ.

This, then, is why we believe Christ is worthy of belief. He doesn’t just claim to be a prophet or a holy man, but claims to be God incarnate. This means that there is something unique and fundamentally different about his actions. In other posts I will look at reasons to believe that this claim is true, and at the question of different Christian communities/churches. But, from the beginning we need to be clear on this fundamental claim of Christ: he is truly the Son of God and truly the Son of Man.