Monday, December 19, 2022

Christmas Theology

Five years ago I wrote a little piece on 'Advent Theology' - mostly trying to make the point that because our theology awaits Christ's final revelation, it is always provisional and subject to correction.  (I said other things too; it's only short, why not read it).

As this year's Advent season begins to fade into Christmas, I want to add something: as well as being Advent theology, all sound theology must be Christmas theology.

Christmas is the time of the baby in the manger, of the Word become flesh.  Christmas is the time of Immanuel, God with us, God as one of us.  Christmas is 'God draws near'; Christmas is 'our God contracted to a span' - not without his continuing to fill heaven and earth, of course!  At Christmas, we see his glory - the glory of the one and only Son of the Father, full of grace and truth.  Though no-one has ever seen God, the one and only Son has made him known.  Christmas is when God, in a miracle of grace, becomes an object in our history, our space and time, counted amongst us as one body alongside other bodies, to be heard, seen, touched.

Christmas is the miracle of how we come to know God.

(There is another side to this miracle, a subjective component to match this objective - but that will have to wait for Pentecost theology).

So Christmas theology must be confident, restrained, and simple.

Confident, because God has really walked amongst us.  We are not making stuff up, neither are we speculating about God on the basis of some element of human experience, or our understanding of the nature of reality.  We are not constructing a Babel-Tower of philosophy to reach up to God; rather, he came down to us.  It is noteworthy that there is essentially no philosophy, no metaphysics, in Holy Scripture - there is instead witness, witness to what God has said and done in our midst.  Because of Christmas, we stand on solid ground as we theologise.

Restrained, because if God has come to us and shown himself to us, we are not free to seek him elsewhere.  We need not engage in metaphysical speculation, but far more strongly than that: we must not.  If God gives himself to be known, if he tells us that to see Jesus Christ is to see the Father, that it is in the face of Christ that we are to seek and see the glory of God, then we are not at liberty to look around elsewhere.  Christmas, by giving us a real basis for theology, gives us the only legitimate basis for theology.

Simple, in two senses.  In the ordinary everyday sense of the word, simple because the story is simple.  God lay in a manger.  This is a truth a child can understand, and perhaps one of the great virtues of Christmas as an annual celebration is that in invites us to see as a child again.  There is no sophistication here, no complex intellectual scheme.  There is just God, present as one of us.  But as if to contradict that, Christmas theology is also simple in the technical sense.  Simplicity, as an attribute of God, tells us that since God is One, and is not made up of parts, wherever God is and under whatever aspect we consider him, the whole of God is there and the whole of God is implicated.  God is not partly mercy and partly justice, for example, in the way that we might be divided and potentially conflicted.  God is all God.  And so Christmas theology looks to the manger and expects to see - and does see - true and full God in the truly and fully human baby.  Christmas theology tells us that we don't need to worry that we're missing out on some deep and hidden things of God by focussing on the incarnate Word; no, rather the deep and hidden things are right there, mysterious and yet revealed, in Christ Jesus.

A word, briefly, to those who love theology.  I think Christmas theology is a rebuke to us when we get caught up in and enjoy the technical apparatus of theology; when we delight in the complex discussions of Nicene Trinitarianism or Chalcedonian Christology or whatever.  It is noteworthy that many of the greatest theologians are on record as wishing that none of this technical apparatus had to exist; they would have preferred simply to use the language of Holy Scripture to bear witness to Christ.  If the abuses of heretics forced them to construct a technical vocabulary, it was only to safeguard the approach to the manger.  Whilst I think we ought to have a grasp of these things, especially if we are teachers of the faith, let's not delight too much in the technicalities, but get inside the fence which they represent to see God in Christ.  And in particular, let's not make them a fence against simple Christian faith, which is far more value than any of our complex distinctions.  Perhaps for theologians, the chief emphasis of Christmas theology is that we need to bow before the baby - a test of our humility!

2 comments:

  1. Duncan Hollands7:21 pm

    Hahaha, love that move at the end. Yes, all of theology is less than owrthless if we don't turn to the baby and bow before him--and here is true joy!

    As you presumably know, and are probably alluding to, your favourite theologian (from Aquino) had a mystical experience while presiding at mass in the year before he died. He turned to his friend and said, "all that I have written seems like straw to me."

    All of the theological books in the world are straw compared to meeting Jesus. Amen!

    You might also like this one from Dan Hames if you haven't seen it already. https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/did-mary-give-birth-to-god

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Good old Aquinas. I genuinely do love him, as a great witness to the catholic faith. Even in his missteps!

      Hames is okay too. :o)

      Delete