Etymologically, the word mystery basically means that which is secret
or hidden. It was used in a religiously technical sense even before
Christianity. Mystery was used, for example, to designate certain religious
rites of pagan Hellenism, secret rites that were closed to outsiders unless
they had been properly initiated into them. In relation to Egyptian
hermeticism, the word mystery was applied to initiation into secret
religious ideas or doctrines. In reference to Christianity, God himself is
the ultimate mystery. Radically, God is completely other and transcendent,
hidden from man in his inner life, unless he chooses to reveal himself. Let
us briefly look at this inner life of God.
The Father, in a perfect act of self-expression, in a
perfect act of knowing, generates his son. The Son, the Word, is, then,
the immanent expression of God's fullness, the reflection of the Father.
Likewise, from all eternity, the Father and the Son bring forth the Holy
Spirit in a perfect act of loving.
At the destined moment in human history, God's
self-expression, the Word, immersed himself into man's world. God's inner
self-expression now had also become God's outer self-expression.
Consequently, the mystery of God becomes the mystery of Christ. In Christ,
God tells us about himself, about his inner life, about his plan of creation
and redemption. He tells us how Father, Son, and Holy Spirit desire to dwell
within us in the most intimate fashion, how they wish to share with us their
own life through grace. All this he has accomplished and does accomplish
through Christ. St. Paul tells us: "I became a minister of this Church
through the commission God gave me to preach among you his word in its
fullness, that mystery hidden from ages and generations past but now
revealed to his holy ones. God has willed to make known to them the glory
beyond price which this mystery brings to the Gentiles—the mystery of
Christ in you, your hope of glory. This is the Christ we proclaim while we
admonish all men and teach them in the full measure of wisdom, hoping to
make every man complete in Christ" (Col 1:25-28).
The Christian life, then, is rooted in the great event of
the Incarnation. We must, consequently, always focus our gaze upon Christ,
realizing that everything the Father wishes to tell us has been summed up in
the life of Jesus of Nazareth. It only remains for us, then, to fathom ever
more deeply the inexhaustible truth of the Word Incarnate: "In times
past, God spoke in fragmentary and varied ways to our fathers through the
prophets; in this, the final age, he has spoken to us through his Son, whom
he has made heir of all things and through whom he first created the
universe" (Heb 1:1-2).
What was the condition of man and his world at the time
of Christ's coming? In some ways, people were much the same as we are today.
There were those who were just being born into this world of human drama;
there were those who, in death, were leaving it, some of whom had grasped
but little of life's meaning. There were those who were healthy and
vigorous; there were those who were sick and lame. Some especially felt the
burdens, the grief, the suffering of the human condition; others were
ebullient and desired all the pleasures that life could provide. There was
some good being accomplished: there was Rome, for example, with her genius
for government and architecture; there was Athens with her philosophers,
writers, sculptors, and artists. The moral condition of those times,
however, was at a very low ebb. What St. Paul tells us concerning the time
that immediately followed Christ's earthly existence certainly could also be
applied to the time of his entrance into the world. It is, in short, an ugly
picture that Paul depicts for us (Rm 1:22-32).
Into such a depraved condition of mankind Jesus entered,
with a full and generous heart, to lead man from the depths of sinfulness to
the vibrant richness of a new life in himself. Through his enfleshment, this
Christ had become the focal point of all history. The authentic hopes and
dreams of the human family, now so deeply overshadowed by the ugliness of
sin, came converging upon this Christ. He would gather them up in himself,
give them a new luster and brilliance and dynamism, and would lead the human
race back to the Father in the Spirit.
Christ came, then, for a double purpose, or rather for a
single purpose that has two facets. He was radically to release us from the
dominion of sin and elevate us to a new level of existence. This life that
Christ has given us is not a type of superstructure that is erected atop
man's human existence. Although nature and grace are distinct, they do not
lie side by side as separate entities; rather, grace permeates nature. The
Christian is one graced person. In his entirety he has been raised up,
caught up, into a deeper form of life in Christ Jesus. Nothing that is
authentically human has been excluded from this new existence. Whatever is
really human in the life of the Christian is meant to be an expression of
the Christ-life. The simple but deep joys of family life, the wonderment at
nature's beauty, the kiss that unites lovers, the warm embrace of a mother
for her child, the agony of crucial decision making, the success or
frustration that is experienced in one's work, the joy of being well
received by others, and the heartache of being misunderstood—all these
human experiences are intended to be caught up in Christ and made more
deeply human because of him. As Karl Rahner has put it: "The basic and
ultimate thrust of Christian life consists not so much in the fact that a
Christian is a special instance of mankind in general, but rather in the
fact that a Christian is simply man as he is. But he is a person who accepts
without reservations the whole of concrete human life with all of its
adventures, its absurdities, and its incomprehensibilities" (Foundations
of Christian Faith, p. 402).
Christ has
come, then, not to destroy anything that is authentically human, but to
perfect it by leading it to a graced fulfillment. This is the meaning of the
Incarnation. The more God-like we become through Christ, the more human we
become.
As Christians, then, we live in Christ. We have been
incorporated into his life, into the mystery of Christ. The mystery of
Christ is the Christ event, that is, all the happenings or events of
Christ's life, death, and resurrection. We may speak, consequently, not only
of the total, unified mystery of Christ, but also of the individual events
or mysteries. Christ's mysteries of death and resurrection are central and,
in some way, they contain all the other mysteries; but these other mysteries
or events also have their own importance.
The mysteries or events of Christ are not mere past
events; they are still dynamically present in the glorified Christ. How is
this so? The mysteries of Christ have a twofold aspect: one dimension is
historical and, therefore, limited by time; the other dimension is eternal,
perennially and actually present in Christ. Let us first consider the
historical, temporal aspect of Christ's mysteries. In assuming a human
nature, the Son subjected himself to the historical dimension of man's
existence. In other words, the actions that Christ performed on earth,
through his human nature, were limited by temporal historicity. The temporal
historicity of these acts cannot be re-enacted—not even sacramentally in
the liturgy. To do so would require that God reproduce a past act now
precisely as past, which is a contradiction in terms.
There is, then, the temporal, not-to-be repeated
dimension of Christ's mysteries. These mysteries, however, possess another
aspect, namely, an eternal and perennially dynamic aspect. Jesus, although
he has a divine nature and a human nature, is only one person—and that is
a divine person. The consequence of this fact is demonstrated in reference
to the acts that Christ performed as man. Although they were enacted through
Jesus' human nature, these acts are attributed to the divine person and
share, as much as a human act can, in the eternity of the divine person who
is above the historical, temporal limitations of earthly existence. These
events of Jesus' historical existence endure, then, eternally in the
glorified Christ, and they endure for a purpose, that is, the mysteries of
Christ perennially endure in him so that we might assimilate them. We are
thus saved and sanctified by entering into the mystery of Christ,
assimilating it, and reproducing it in our own lives according to our
particular vocations, graces, and historical exigencies. There is only one
manner of life that the Father holds before us, and it is patterned after
the existence of his incarnate Son.
By reliving and reincarnating the mysteries of Christ, we
are not only accomplishing our own redemption, but assisting in the
continued application of Christ's redemption to all mankind. The Incarnation
continues for all time. Christ, of course, is the one who fundamentally
continues the Incarnation; but he enlists our help. The world no longer sees
Jesus, no longer is able to reach out and touch him. We are the ones who
now, in some way, make Christ visible and tangible. In union with the
invisible, glorified Christ, and depending upon him as our source of
strength, we continue the Incarnation in its visible and temporal
dimensions. The fact that, at times, we do this poorly because of our human
weakness and sinfulness does not change the great privilege and
responsibility that is ours: we do, in fact, help continue the Incarnation.
We are the Body of Christ. We must strive ever more perfectly to reincarnate
the mystery and mysteries of Christ.
The Christian is initiated into the mystery of Christ,
into his or her role of prolonging the Incarnation, through baptism. In the
words of St. Paul: "Are you not aware that we who were baptized into
Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Through baptism into his death we
were buried with him, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by
the glory of the Father, we too might live a new life" (Rm 6:3-5).
It is not sufficient, however, that we be incorporated
into Christ and his mysteries through baptism. All forms of life require
nourishment; so too, our life in Christ must be continually nourished; we
must continually keep in contact with Christ and his mysteries. How can we
continually encounter Christ? There are various ways. We contact Christ in a
special manner through the liturgy—above all, in the Eucharistic liturgy.
Here the entire course of salvation history, as centered in Jesus, is
sacramentally renewed and continued. Through this Eucharistic encounter we
become more deeply incorporated into Christ and his mysteries.
The reading of Scripture provides another special
opportunity for encounter with Jesus. This is true for both the Old and New
Testaments; the Old Testament prefigures the New Testament and leads to it.
It is obvious, however, that we meet Christ especially through the pages of
the New Testament. How true it is to say that not to be familiar with
Scripture is not to know Christ properly.
There is yet another way in which we encounter the
mysteries of Christ; we make renewed contact with Jesus and his mysteries as
these are present within ourselves and others. The mysteries of Christ that
are to be relived by us are structured into our life of grace. One of the
best ways, then, to encounter the mysteries of Christ is to experience them
personally in our own Christian living. To personally relive the mysteries
of Christ is to more perfectly understand them; what is more, this deeper
penetration of their truth allows for their still greater assimilation in
our lives. To see the truth of Christ, the Christ-event, reincarnated to a
marked degree in another person—is a wonderful gift from God. To see the
selflessness of Jesus, his love, his kindness, his willingness to suffer and
endure the difficult, his joy and peace despite the pain and anguish of
life—to see all this reflected in the lives of at least some of the people
we meet is indeed a significant encounter with Christ.
Common to the various ways of properly encountering Jesus
and his mysteries is a certain degree of prayerful reflection. Our encounter
with the mystery of Christ in the liturgy, in Scripture, in ourselves, and
in others will not be all that it should be without this kind of reflection.
The light of prayer enables us to see more perfectly how the mysteries of
Jesus are to be assimilated. The strength of prayer provides us with a
greater determination to live a more Christ-like existence.
We live out our assimilation to Christ in an atmosphere
of love. Indeed, the life that Jesus has given us is centered in love; it
has its origins in the mysterious love of God, his agape, through which he
achieves his self-communication to us. In the words of St. John's gospel:
Yes, God so
loved the world
that he gave his only Son,
that whoever believes in him may not
die
but may have eternal life.
—Jn 3:16.
Our new life in Christ has arisen out of God's fathomless
love, and, what is more, its entire dynamism breathes love. The Incarnate
Word himself has taught us this. On our behalf, Christ, as man, has
perfectly opened himself to the Father's love; he has then responded to the
Father in love. In relation to men, Jesus has loved completely from the
depths of his being, pouring himself out in a life of selfless service, a
self-giving that drew from him life's breath itself so that he could say he
loved—without reserve and to the end. Thus forever was etched upon the
pages of man's history—indelibly and so deeply—the love of Jesus for
mankind. In this very greatness and depth of Christ's love for us, he was
also opening himself to our love, for he can enter the human heart only if
there is a response of love that encounters his own. Consequently, Jesus is
the sacrament—the visible sign—of the great dimensions of Christian
love. Christians are the persons who receive God's love and respond with
their own love; Christians also love their fellow human beings as themselves
and, in turn, open themselves to receive others' love.
Christ, in his descent into human flesh, has established
a milieu of love. The life he came to give can flourish only in the
framework of love. Indeed, we can summarize the meaning of the Christian
life by stating that it is a response to God's love—a love that God freely
gives to us without conditions or qualifications. Love is the beginning and
the end. The main truth that we must comprehend is that the redemptive
incarnation was wrought by God's love to raise us, in turn, to a deeper
level of loving. Our further penetration into the mystery of the Incarnation
can take place only in love. Incarnate love can only be understood and
participated in more fully through our own life of love.
Another characteristic of our assimilation to the mystery
of Christ is its personalism. There were numerous possibilities open to God,
given his decision to redeem the human race. He actually chose, however, to
accomplish our redemption in the most personalistic way; he communicated
himself to us through the personal enfleshment of his Son. This means that
God was giving himself to us through the warmth, the kindness, the strength,
the gentleness, and the selflessness that emanated from the incarnate person
of Christ. It was truly the incarnate, personal acts of Christ that redeemed
us—his work and relaxation, his joy, his friendships, his love for Mary
and Joseph, the training of the apostles, his concern for the most abject of
those he encountered, his fatigue, his agony and death, and his
resurrection. Our redemption was truly personalistic.
Moreover the personalism of the Incarnation continues. In
union with Christ, we are called upon to help him continue his Incarnation
in its visible, earthly dimension. Only one framework is available to us
according to which we can help further the Incarnation—our personal lives,
that is to say, our lives as individuals united as a people, the People of
God. The human condition as we experience it—joyfully and painfully,
too—also provides the soil for our participation in the continued
Incarnation. Redemption continues to take place not when we try to remove
ourselves from the human condition, but when we strive to live an
authentically human life that is more and more in Christ. It is by living
truly personalistic lives—that is, lives springing forth from the
greatness of the person as created and redeemed by God, lives that do not
flinch from the human condition—that redemption continues to be made
visible to this world.
Christian personalism centers in our personal
relationships with God and others, and again, Christ shows the way. Through
the Word made flesh, the life of the Trinity has incarnationally manifested
itself to mankind. The life of the Trinity centers in the personal
relationships between Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; but God's life is also
his love gone out to the human race. The Incarnation projects this
Trinitarian life into the temporal sphere. Jesus has come to tell us about
Trinitarian life, to give us a share in it, to teach us that through grace
we share in God's life—a life of relationships—by entering into deepened
personal relationships with God and other persons. Redemption that is
received and contributed to is the experience of these relationships. In
other words, as Jesus has told us, the Christian life is summed up in love
of God and neighbor. Out of these personalized love relationships flow many
things; for example, redemption continued is the loving abandonment to the
love of God that despite possible fear, allows a person to accomplish things
that are totally beyond his or her natural courage. Or again, redemption
continued is loving those who are afar off whom I will never see or know,
but whom I know are my brothers and my sisters and whom my work and prayer
can reach out and touch. Or again, redemption continued is the Christian
hope and trust that allows man and woman to take the risk of the mutual
self-giving that is marriage. Or again, redemption continued is the black
person who continues to relate to his or her white neighbors in faith, hope,
and love despite temptations to hatred and bitterness. Or again, redemption
continued is the ecstasy and the agony of loving and being loved. Truly, the
Incarnation visibly continued is our Christian faith, hope, and love made
alive in our personal relationships with God and man.
In our assimilation to the mystery of Christ, then, we
learn about love and the personalistic. We also learn a further truth—the
value of the material, the tangible, in God's plan of redemption. The
Incarnation established a set pattern for the redemption of the world, that
is, redemption taken both objectively (the historical, salvific life of
Christ) and subjectively (the redemption as applied to mankind). Christ
redeemed the world through his humanity, which was a created and, in part, a
tangible reality. As Jesus' humanity was indispensable for accomplishing the
objective redemption, so also created things are necessary for continuing
the subjective redemption. An outstanding example of this occurs in the
Eucharistic liturgy, for bread and wine—material, tangible realities—are
the central focus of the liturgical rite as they are changed into Christ's
body and blood.
In assuming a
human nature, then, Jesus has united to himself not only mankind, but also
the material world. Not only the human spirit, but also the human body and
the material world have been given a new dignity because of the Incarnation
and enter so vitally into the Incarnation continued. Once for all let us lay
aside the influence of Manichaeism, Gnosticism, and similar false teachings
that denigrate that which is material. It is obvious that we do not always
properly use material creation; at such times, we have failed to relate to
material creation according to God's will. Let us remember, then, that
Christ, in elevating the material to a new dignity, has accomplished this
partially through that aspect of the Incarnation that is the cross—a
dimension of the Incarnation that, along with its other aspects, must also
be present in our encounter with the material. We must realize that such
elements as Christian self-discipline and renunciation must find a place in
our lives if we are to use material creation according to God's designs.
There are numberless applications of the value of the
material, the visible, the tangible, in our Christ-lives: there is, for
example, the warm, receptive smile of a friend and the reading of Scripture
and the physical love of husband and wife and the exhilarating refreshment
of a day at the seashore and God's loveliness that is reflected in a little
child—and, of course, the list could continue on. The fundamental
principle, however, is the same in all cases:—the human nature of Jesus,
something that has been created and is in part material, has reached out and
touched all these other things and experiences that are part of life in a
material world. When we properly relate to them, they become for us
extensions of the Incarnation. They are the redemptive Incarnation applied
to us; in addition, they are opportunities for us to assist Christ in
continuing his Incarnation for others.
The Incarnation, as we have briefly pointed out, was and
is a rich and varied event. The truths that accompany Christ's descent into
our world are numerous and capable of not only originally elevating us to a
new life, but also constantly leading us to a deeper, richer, and more
vibrant participation in that life. This is why Christ came to live in our
midst—to give us life in abundance:
The Word
became flesh
and made his dwelling among us.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Of his fullness
we have all had a share—
love following upon love.
—Jn
1:14-16
Copyright
© 2001 Shepherds of Christ.