John 1:1-9, 10-18

Jesus: Human and/or Divine 

Conspiracy. Intrigue. Mayhem. Murder. And you thought church meetings were boring. 

In his book Jesus Wars, Philip Jenkins tells the story of all the wrangling about Jesus’ divinity and humanity that took place at the Council of Chalcedon in 451. Jenkins recounts how bishops, monks, emperors, the powerful wives and mothers of emperors, and passionate laypeople tortured and killed each other in a conflict that was as much about imperial politics as it was about the question of Jesus. 

The great fourth Ecumenical Council of Chalcedon in A.D. 451 was, like Nicea and the others before it, called by an emperor and was supposed to settle the controversy about whether Christ has two natures (Antioch’s view) or one nature (Alexandria’s view). The resulting Chalcedonian Definition would give us the doctrine of the hypostatic union: Jesus Christ was one person of two natures “without confusion, without change, without division, without separation.” 

Like just about every other church council then and now, however, the controversy continued to rage after everyone went home. After a lot of wrangling and bloodshed, most Christians in Egypt and the Middle East broke from the churches of Rome and Constantinople and founded rival Christian traditions. One of those traditions, Nestorianism believes that Christ’s two natures were and are in some sense separate; another is Mon-o-phy-sit-ism which believes that Christ’s two natures merged to form one that’s mostly divine. 

Jenkins, in fact, believes that Christianity could have become Mon-o-phy-site had emperor Theodosius II, a Mon-o-phy-site supporter who endorsed the murder of opponents, not been killed in a horse-riding accident in 450, just before Chalcedon. Had he been there to throw his royal weight around, Christianity may have moved in a very different direction. 

We will not spend any more time on the historical intrigue; instead, we will focus on the stated question that brought these early ecumenical councils together: How was Jesus both human and divine? 

The popular view of these ancient councils promoted by skeptical scholars and novels such as Dan Brown’s The DaVinci Code is that the several conflicting understandings about Jesus were equally considered. But these early ecumenical councils weren’t meeting to cobble together a new understanding of Jesus. Nor did the bishops gather to vote on a decision between alternative views. By the time of Nicea (A.D. 325) and, later, Chalcedon, the traditional, orthodox view of Jesus’ nature as “fully human and fully divine” was already widely accepted as truth in most places; the alternative views about Jesus were the products of fringe movements. The councils merely codified and gave language to beliefs that were already commonly held as a means of further defining the boundaries of orthodoxy. 

To put it in a more modern context, while Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians and Roman Catholics practice the Christian faith somewhat differently and have their own doctrinal emphases, their views on the nature of Christ are essentially the same, grounded in the orthodox framework that has been carried forward in two millennia of Christian tradition. When Mormonism emerged in the United States in the mid-19th century, with its views of Jesus as a [2] kind of divine being subordinate to God — a lesser God, if you will — it wasn’t as though the other Christian traditions saw it as an alternative to be equally considered. Instead, Joseph Smith’s construct of Jesus was rejected as an heretical anomaly. 

Alternative versions of Christianity seem to emerge in every generation, but every variation eventually bumps up against the traditional view of Jesus’ nature and is assigned an unorthodox alternative not so much by the decisions of councils but by the depth and strength of the traditional orthodox view itself. 

Christians of all stripes have always agreed that, in some sense, Jesus was both divine and human; does the degree really matter? Some Christians have been arguing for centuries that humanity and divinity are mutually exclusive; therefore, Jesus had to be more of one than the other. Others simply want to push the mystery button and consign the whole thing to the realm of silly human speculation. 

There’s a reason, however, why Jesus’ nature is such a big deal for Christians. What’s at stake in the question of Jesus’ humanity and divinity isn’t only our understanding of the nature of God and the person of Jesus, but also the nature and vocation of ourselves as human beings made in God’s image. The opening lines of John’s gospel point us toward an understanding of the relationship between humanity and divinity that is a basis not only for theology but for our own identity, as well. 

John begins [1] “[i]n the beginning,” which calls the reader immediately back to the story of creation. Jesus, the “Word,” was both “with” God and “was” God; thus, John pretty much puts the question of Jesus’ divinity to rest right out of the gate. “The Word” was both present and participating in creation itself, says John (v. 3) — a point Paul also makes (Colossians 1:15-16; Philippians 2:6), which indicates that John certainly wasn’t alone in his theological understanding of Jesus. For John, as well as other New Testament writers, to see and hear Jesus is to see and hear God (John 5:37-38; 8:19; 14:9-11). 

It’s interesting to note that many of the early “heresies” – that is other ideas about Jesus’ nature -- were focused on denying the fullness of his humanity while promoting his divinity. At Chalcedon, for example, the Mon-o-phy-sites wanted to claim that Jesus was the merger of two natures into one that was primarily, if not exclusively, divine. The earlier Do-ce-tists went a step further, claiming that Jesus only appeared to have a physical body but was a pure spirit who couldn’t physically die. 

Others, of course, were on the opposite spectrum — bishops such as Arius, who argued at Nicea that Jesus was a created being and that only God the Father could be considered to be fully divine. For many people, then as now, it was difficult if not impossible to conceive of God being fully invested in human form and participating in the messiness of human life. In a lot of theological circles, humanity has long been seen as something very separate from the divine. 

Remember, though, that John starts his gospel with the words, “In the beginning,” which calls the reader back to the very beginning of creation and, especially, to the creation of humanity. John seems to want us to view Jesus’ humanity and divinity and our own humanity and relationship with God through the lens of what God created humans to be in the beginning. 

In Genesis [1], God makes these first humans “in God’s own image” and calls this creation “very good.” Genesis chapter 2 provides another account, this one saying that God created Adam, Hebrew for “man,” out of the dust of the ground and breathed into him the breath of life.

Both narratives make it clear that God is pleased with this human creation — a reflection of God’s own being. 

It is not only our physical creation that matters here, so does our vocation. God’s first commandment was for these humans, God’s own image, to reflect God’s care for the creation by exercising dominion and stewardship over the whole project. God doesn’t see these people as being “only human” but, rather, “fully human” — the full representation of God’s own image, character, and vocation. They are not equals with God, as Genesis 3 will clearly reveal, but they are invested with a status of divine favor. John is perhaps thinking of the “breath of life” in Genesis when he says, 4“What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people”. From the very beginning, humans have been given the capacity to relate to God and to receive [10:10]God’s “abundant” life. Humans aren’t God, but we are made to participate in God’s presence – [14:17]our full humanity is enabled as we are filled by the Holy Spirit. 

Although many see our humanity as a curse, we forget that God created us for good purpose -- for relationship with God. 

Genesis 3, of course, reveals that the first humans sought to be like God — to be more than they were created to be — and instead wound up being less than the image of God and less than human. Our own heretical theology comes into play when we believe we’re “only human” because we sin, when the Bible reveals that sin is what makes us less than human. After all, sin is inherently dehumanizing: War turns people into targets, lust turns people into objects of pleasure, greed turns people into commodities. Our humanity isn’t the problem; it’s our sinful sloughing off of our humanity that gets us into trouble. 

Jesus didn’t do that, orthodoxy affirms. In life, death, and resurrection, Jesus revealed what it means to be fully human and, at the same time, fully filled with the Divine. So, Jesus isn’t so much a perfect icon to admire as an example to follow in how fully to engage our capacity for relationship with God. In John’s gospel, Jesus is constantly trying to teach his disciples how to be one with him and one with the God whom he reveals in his own person. 

Being human and dying a human death on a cross, the naked and bleeding Jesus experienced the ultimate dehumanizing act. Jesus went through the very death that ends human life, but then rose from the dead, defeating death and offering the amazing and wonderful hope that the curse of death no longer ends our humanity; it will someday no longer be in the way of an eternal, resurrected, fully human life with God — the way it was meant from the beginning. [4-5] “In him was life,” says John, “and the life was [and is] the light of all people”. We are given the light of God’s Spirit to be lived out in our fully human lives — lives that are meant to reflect both the human and the divine. 

Wrangling over the nature of orthodoxy has never been unimportant, but ultimately our understanding of Jesus has to be as much embodied as believed. As the great missionary E. Stanley Jones once said, “The Christian faith is not a set of propositions to be accepted — it is a Person to be followed.” 

May we all begin this year by following Jesus, the [14:6] “way, and the truth, and the life,” toward our full humanity and the life God wants to live with us, in us, and through us. [4] As we think about beginning this new year, it may help to think about where we’re going. The following exchange between Alice and the Cheshire Cat in Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) is worth considering: 

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?” 

“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat. 

“I don’t much care where,” said Alice. 

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat. 

“— so long as I get somewhere,” Alice added as an explanation. 

“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.” 

Or, as Yogi Berra put it, “You’d better be careful if you don’t know where you are going, because you might not get there.” 

Jesus, is [14:6]“The way, and the truth, and the life,” Jesus is the way toward our full humanity, toward the life that God wants to live with us. 

Let us decide this day – or soon – that life lived in God’s spirit is the goal for our beings. Don’t just go anywhere – living any old way – like Alice seemed willing to do. Rather, let us decide and know where and how we are going to live our lives so we can get there; so we can live God’s way and be in God’s truth. 

That is what Christmas was all about. That’s what Mt. Salem Church is all about. That is what we need to be all about. 

Let us be about following Jesus, living [14:6] the way, finding the truth, and discovering and realizing the life that God is offering us. 

Amen. 

Source: Olson, Roger E. “A combustible faith.” Christianity Today Web site. June 23, 2010. christianitytoday.com/ct/2010/june/22.51.html?start=2. 

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Children's Sermon 

Show the children a map and explain how you can use it to get from one place to another. Pull out a GPS, turn it on and enter the place you want to go. Have the children listen as the electronic voice tells them the route to take. Invite them to raise their hands if they think a GPS is better than a map -- and have them tell you why. 

Then ask the children if there’s anything better than a GPS. Suggest that the very best guide is a person who can lead you where you want to go. Say that God knows this, which is why God sent Jesus into the world. The Bible says that “14the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth”. 

Explain that God sent us Moses with his Ten Commandments, which was kind of like a map for good living. Then God sent us prophets such as Isaiah and Jeremiah, who spoke to us like the voice on a GPS. Finally, God sent us Jesus, who was full of grace and truth, and who showed us in person how we’re supposed to live. 

Close by saying that if you ever wonder where God wants you to go or how God wants you to live, you should follow Jesus. Jesus is the way and the truth; Jesus is the best way to live. 

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