The Incarnation is something like a myth. Does not the mythology of every civilization abound in stories about gods who come down from heaven, appear in human guise, communicate heavenly revelations, and deliver their favorites from desperate straits? Does not the Christian story, examined under the cool light of criticism, turn out to be just another myth?
In some sense the Incarnation is a myth. Like other myths, it is a tale that holds us in its grip because in some strange way its symbolism casts light upon the riddles of our life and enables us to deal creatively with forces that threaten to destroy us. No myth could survive unless it contained a measure of truth and healing power. The Incarnation is an unusually potent and revealing myth, far surpassing the normal inventive powers of the human mind. Christians believe that the Christmas story, notwithstanding all its legendary features, transmits a reality on which we can pin our hopes and trust.
Man's myth-making propensity can easily distort the true meaning of the story. The alienated imagination tends to depict the Incarnation as though it meant a magical universe, a charmed existence, a divine charade. It constructs a mythological Jesus, in which the human nature of Jesus is either ignored or treated as though mkaculously transformed. Popular piety, stimulated by pulpit oratory and sentimental theology, has sometimes suggested that Jesus was never tempted—at least not seriously—and that he was not ignorant of anything that it would have been important for him to know.
Critical theology, however, tells us that Jesus was not a god masquerading as a man, but a man as human as ourselves. The reality of Jesus' human nature, unequivocally affirmed in the ancient councils, has been poignantly sketched for us in the Synoptic Gospels and the Letter to the Hebrews. The theology of our day presents the Incarnation with sober realism. It has no difficulty in acknowledging that Jesus experienced fear, pain, disappointment, and surprise; that he learned obed."ence from the things that he suffered; that in some sense he walked in darkness and lived by faith. In his earthly career Jesus did not experience the full effects of his divinity.; he was not immune to the anxieties and ambiguities of the human condition. This human portrayal of Jesus is not only more credible but also more religiously meaningful than the mythological projection of Jesus as a god who merely pretended to share our lot.
Yet there is more than ,this to the mystery of Jesus. He was not just one of us. He is our Lord and Redeemer, the incarnate Word of God. Although his divinity was distinct from his humanity, there was no separation of natures. Divine life belonged to Jesus" very self; it was constitutive of his person. For this reason his life on earth could be one of unbroken union with God. In his temptations, notwithstanding the darkness, he remained faithful. In his risen life Jesus moved from darkness into unclouded light. The divine and the human now peacefully compenetrate, seeming almost to coincide. In the post-resurrection appearances Jesus manifests himself as totally self-possessed, redolent of divinity.
Incarnation, however, is not yet resurrection. The mystery of Christmas focuses on the beginnings of the process by which the Word of God enfleshes himself in the life of a man. Flesh in Jesus, as in us, is a principle of passivity, vulnerability, transience, weakness, and mortality. The flesh of Jesus, as yet unglorified by the divinity, made room for the possibility of the Cross. By passing through suffering and death the flesh of Jesus was prepared for its new life in God.
The Incarnation, as a paradoxical meeting-ground of the divine and the human, illumines the mystery of the Church and the mystery of man. According to Vatican II, the mystery of the Church may be compared "by a most excellent analogy" to that of the incarnate Word. The Church is an abiding union between the Spirit of Jesus and the community of those who believe in Jesus. As in Christology, so in ecclesiology, there are two fundamental heresies. The first heresy would be to divinize the Church, overlooking its human component; the second would be to think of the Church as merely human, neglecting the unfailing presence of the Holy Spirit.
Like the Incarnation, the Church is both a myth and a mythology. The myth powerfully represents for us the saving mystery of the Church, exposing us to its healing radiance. The mythology perverts the myth, substituting fantasy for realism. Exploiting the mythology, church leaders sometimes claim magical powers, refuse to give account of their actions, and resist necessary reforms—all this in the name of God. The mythology likewise renders the faithful docile, blunts their critical faculties, and lulls them into false complacency. Both office-holders and lay people are tempted to invoke the mythology in order to escape their responsibilities toward God and toward each other.
As against this pseudo-divinization there is an opposite error that sees only the human in the Church. It is easy in our time to become a disillusioned cynic, to defame responsible leaders, to spread bitterness and distrust. Faith resists this temptation; it opens up our minds to the authentic experience of the Church, attuning us to perceive the Spirit's presence. To the eyes of faith, God is at work in the hearts of Christians, enabling them to believe, to pray, and to respond to the challenges that come their way. He is active likewise in the hearts of teachers and pastors, helping them to persevere in their exacting and often thankless tasks.
The Christian believer must be loyal to the Church, for the Church is truly of God. Yet he must be critical, for the Church is truly of man. The Church's fidelity to the gospel cannot be taken for granted: it must be won anew in every generation. The dialectical interplay of the divine and the human in the Church gives rise to a certain ambivalence. We must give ourselves totally to the divine while resisting whatever stems from the perversity of man. It is difficult to combine steadfast loyalty with critical vigilance. We have all had to deal with loyal Christians who do not know how to be critical, and with critical Christians whose loyalty is in doubt. A solid but sober faith will equip us to be both loyal and critical, firm and pliant, as the occasion requires. It will instruct us when to speak up and when to accept the discipline of silence. The incarnate Word provides us with models of both protest and submission.
Christians are sometimes tempted to imagine that the Incarnation has no saving efficacy beyond the borders of the Church. The message of Christmas, however, assures us that God is redemptively involved not simply in the life of Jesus or that of the Church, but in human history as a whole. "By his Incarnation," says Vatican II, "the Son of God has united himself in some fashion with every man." Christ calls us to a new consciousness whereby we can find the same divine mystery at work in ourselves and in the brothers and sisters who least resemble us. He helps us to build community not only with our fellow Christians but with Jews, Moslems, Hindus, and the secular humanists. Jesus is present in every human person, far or near, who can help us or be helped by us. The Church at its best is a sign of God's saving love extended toward all mankind.
Can Americans in our day hope to capture the mood of Christmas? Now that the euphoria of Camelot has evanesced, can the myth of Christmas stand? Amid all the cruel revelations of 1973, can we warm up to this season of tinsel and festive gatherings? Can we celebrate the coming of the Prince of Peace when for millions of our fellow men the messianic age seems never to have dawned? The mythology of Christmas, no doubt, would require us to deny or trivialize the very real evils under which our nation and our world are groaning—the corruption, dishonesty, and scandals that pervade both public and private life. But the myth of Christmas, as distinct from the mythology, demands no make-believe. The incarnate Word does not remove the agony and the riddles of human existence, but takes them on himself. He does not abolish evil but redeems it. For the Christian, as for others, there will still be senseless accidents, painful illnesses, long convalescences and cold, hungry days. There will be seasons of loneliness, when we are not welcomed or appreciated by anyone on earth. Death will cast its long shadow over our lives, as Calvary casts its shadow over Bethlehem. But, thanks to Christ, the promise of resurrection also casts its rays before it "like a lamp shining in a dark place."
"Only in the mystery of the incarnate Word," the recent Council tells us, "does the mystery of man take on light." Jesus enables us to believe—though not to see—that human life, with all its contradictions, is the place where God is preeminently found. Unlike every mythology, the myth of the Incarnation gives us strength to face up to the harsh realities of our fragmented world, to feel and to transmit the touch of God's reconciling love. Incarnation does not provide us with a ladder by which to escape from the ambiguities of life and scale the heights of heaven. Rather, it enables us to burrow deep into the heart of planet earth and find it shimmering with divinity.
