In this form it is an unbelievably bold similitude! And it is full of truth. The similitude of the burglar who comes in the silence of the night is a cry of victory. Jesus has broken into the model images, the self-deceptions and compulsions of a society far from God. He has succeeded, and he goes on succeeding. No one is safe from him.
What a self-awareness speaks in this text from Jesus! And yet he keeps his restraint, and that very restraint is what fascinates me about Jesus. It makes his language tactful and yet lends it an enormous power. Above all, this incognito allows for the necessary space in which one can decide for him, or not.
Chapter 20
The Church’s Response
The church confesses and teaches: Jesus Christ is true human and true God—the latter, of course, in full unity with the Father and the Holy Spirit. It has said that not just since the Council of Chalcedon in the year 451.1 The New Testament says the same.
It is not hard to believe that Jesus is truly human, at least not in the West. In the sphere of the Orthodox churches, however, things are different. There the image of Jesus is projected more powerfully in terms of his divinity; it can draw Jesus’ humanity into itself and almost conceal it altogether. Orthodox believers sometimes admit that they have difficulties with Jesus’ radical humanity. Apparently a long history of theology and belief has left its traces here.
In the West, theology and the history of devotion have acquired different accents. We only have to think of the late medieval images of the crucifixion that depict its horrors with ultimate realism. Scriptural interpretation is differently weighted in the West as well. It holds to the saying that Jesus “increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor” (Luke 2:52). That means Jesus learned. He struggled to gain insight, he prayed, he wept, he sorrowed, he was tempted by the Evil One, he suffered unspeakably. It really should not be difficult to believe that he was a true human being.
Jesus Deified?
But true God? Isn’t it the case that here a Jew who was certainly deeply believing and charismatic has been retrospectively made into a superhuman, divine figure? We read and hear that statement over and over, not only from our non-Christian contemporaries but even from quite a few Christian theologians. In the year 2000 Gerd Theissen published a book titled Die Religion der ersten Christen. Eine Theorie des Urchristentums.2 Part 1, section 3 in the book is titled “How Did Jesus Come to Be Deified?” Theissen’s intention in this book is not to write a “theology of the New Testament,” that is, to consider early Christianity from within, but to analyze it in strictly religious-historical terms from a deliberately chosen external perspective. Obviously that is a legitimate effort. It even makes good sense. But it seems to me that he does not respect the boundaries of such a perspective. A historian of religions can say that the early church, using Jewish concepts and forms of thought, confessed Jesus as Messiah, as Son of God, even as true God, and was convinced that in doing so it was adopting Jesus’ own claim and developing its implications.
All that can be said from an external perspective. But when Theissen writes that the early church deified Jesus he is adopting a concept from the Hellenistic ruler cult, namely, “apotheosis.” In the Roman imperial cult this deification of great heroes and rulers, exemplified by the celebration of Alexander the Great, developed a specific shape: a series of Roman emperors were elevated to the status of state deities by consecratio. Their divinization took place as follows: The emperor’s body was brought in a magnificent wagon to an artistically constructed pyre several stories high. On the uppermost platform stood a quadriga, a chariot that would conduct the emperor to Olympus. Alongside it were two cages, each containing an eagle. As the pyre began to burn, the two eagles were released. Their upward flight was regarded as a symbol of the deification of the dead person. The ascension of the emperor in question was then affirmed in a solemn public act by means of eyewitnesses, and reviewed by the Roman Senate. Finally, the emperor was declared a god.3 That is the religious-historical background of the idea of “deification.” It in no way applies to the development and nature of the early church’s Christology. The concept is altogether inappropriate for it, even purely from the point of view of religious phenomenology.
On the other hand, it is understandable that Theissen speaks of deification. Probably every serious Christian has thought in this direction at least once. It seems so natural that one day the question would arise in our minds: could it be that talk about “Jesus’ divinity” was simply a culturally conditioned language pattern whose only function was to attempt to describe Jesus’ outstanding importance? Was the statement “Jesus is true God” perhaps meant to say nothing more than that he is the most important person for every Christian, the one who shows us the way, the one who is the guideline and measure of our lives?
We must not suppress such doubts; we must engage with them. This chapter is meant to serve that purpose: not as if it could prove Jesus’ divinity in the way proofs are developed by the natural sciences. Faith must always remain, faith that is open and trusting, because—and this is often forgotten—we can only encounter the truly great things in life through trust. Love can never be proved. We can only entrust ourselves to it. It is only when we trust ourselves to another that we truly know him or her. Knowing another person presupposes openness, looking within, listening within, moving toward the other: sympathy, in fact.
Nevertheless, faith must not be blind, just as love for another human being must not be blind and indifferent. In this particular case that means that theology can remove difficulties that stand in the way of belief in Jesus Christ’s divine sonship. It can protect the christological statements against misunderstandings. It can point to areas of agreement. It can clarify concepts and statements. It can investigate historical processes. It can, for example, ask how, historically speaking, it came about that Jesus was affirmed as true God. In that way alone it can show the falsehood of a whole series of repeated assertions. Before we undertake that, to a very modest extent, in what follows, and since the proper theme of this book is not early church Christology, let me offer three preliminary remarks:
1. If Jesus was only a human being and nothing else, from the perspective of religious phenomenology he would have been a kind of “prophet.” And then it would be impossible to understand why God would not one day send other prophets who might be still more important than Jesus was, more eloquent, with better answers to the questions of our time—prophets who would one day surpass Jesus.
If Jesus had been merely a prophet, then, theologically speaking, he would not have been God’s final word. God would indeed have spoken through him but only in preliminary fashion. God would not yet have said everything through Jesus; crucial things would have been held back. God would by no means have spoken God’s complete mind through Jesus. Christian faith confesses that Jesus Christ is the “Word” in whom God has expressed himself entirely and with finality. But in this case that is precisely what would not have happened. We would be living in an ultimate insecurity, because even the best prophet can be surpassed and corrected by a newer prophet.
Certainly it is beyond the scope of this religious-historical phenomenology to speak of a “last prophet” who represents the summit of all prophecy. That is the case, for example, in Islam. Muhammad called himself “the seal of the prophets” (Sura 33.40)—that is, the last of all Jewish, Christian, and Arab prophets.4 With him, it is said, all prophecy is completed, for he received the Qu’ran, the perfect and final revelation. But in the view of Islam, Muhammad in no way embodied this perfect truth. It was only conveyed to him. Still, he is the “last” prophet and no other can come after him.