God Our Love

Upon my bed by night I sought him whom my soul loves; I sought him, but found him not; I called him, but he gave no answer.  "I will rise now and go about the city, in the streets and in the squares; I will seek him whom my soul loves." I sought him, but found him not.  The watchmen found me, as they went about in the city. "Have you seen him whom my soul loves?  Scarcely had I passed them, when I found him whom my soul loves. I held him, and would not let him go until I had brought him into my mother's house, and into the chamber of her that conceived me.                       

- Song of Songs 3.1-4

In Plato’s Symposium, he defines love as the desire for the good. This definition has subsisted into the Christian scholastic tradition (with the likes of St. Thomas Aquinas) which understands God as the summum bonum (the Highest Good). For the Christian, therefore, God stands as the pinnacle of all our desires with love as nothing less than the pursuit of Him who has first loved us.  It is possible to come to an intellectual understanding of the Christian life as an odyssey of love, but such an understanding is not a complete understanding. Love of God involves much more than an experience, but as one does not know an experience unless one has that experience, one cannot fully know the love between the soul and God unless one enters into such a relationship.  Indeed the relationship between the soul and God is more important, more imperative, and more passionate than any other human relationship.  Adam in his loneliness was unhappy, but sinful Adam and Eve, together still in their separation from God, forgot happiness altogether.  In original sin we are born in separation from our Creator and, though redeemed by Christ through Baptism, we still live in longing to be reunited with Him.

Every human being lives with this unfortunate reality. We are all lovesick. There is a yearning in us, a deep emptiness which longs to be filled by something - Someone - infinite.  All our desires, if they be well directed, lead us ultimately to that divine fulfillment called the Beatific Vision, when we will at long last lay our eyes upon the face of our One True Love:

As a hart longs for running streams, so my soul longs for thee, O God.  My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God?  My tears have been my food day and night, while men say to me continually, “Where is your God?”

-Psalm 42.1-3

O God, thou art my God, I seek thee, my soul thirsts for thee; my flesh faints for thee, as in a dry and weary land where no water is.

-Psalm 63.1

It may seem strange even for the Christian who is first introduced with the idea of God as our Divine Lover.  There seems to be something disrespectful, almost blasphemous about it.  There is indeed a danger in pursuing God as one would a suitor because our very conception of love is often tainted with the influence of lust and worldly passion; yet such a passion as one might exist between God and the soul eager for holiness can be understood as only human passion can be.  There is no analogy more perfect.  We must pursue Him and let ourselves be pursued.  

Scripture and Inerrancy

The inerrancy of Sacred Scripture is a tenet of faith that is firmly rooted in Catholic teaching and tradition.[1] This belief flows from the understanding of biblical inspiration, that the scriptures are authored by the Holy Spirit, using human writers as His “instruments”.[2]  Despite these teachings, the scriptures nevertheless seem to contain incoherencies.  In the critical tension brought on by the progress of science, the last century has seen much hostility toward the content of truth in Sacred Scripture and has influenced many to question the validity of the historical events therein portrayed.  The authority of the Church has nevertheless continually insisted that Scripture be considered true in every sense.  Though holding fast to the Tradition of the Church, the question “is the Bible inerrant,” which those of faith already find answered in the affirmative, makes way for the question “how is the Bible inerrant,” which demands a nuanced explanation.  An answer to the latter becomes yet more difficult in regards to the literal sense of Scripture.  However, by examining the recent pertinent writings of Church authority and the saintly authors they draw from, one may see the ways inerrancy extends to every ‘sense’ of scripture without becoming a barricade to reason.  It then becomes evident that an apparent literal incoherency does not compromise truth, but merely reveals a misunderstanding of the literal significance in question.

It has traditionally been an essential practice to read Sacred Scripture with respect to four different but unified ‘senses’.  The Catechism of the Catholic Church affirms the distinction of the four senses, recalling the words of Augustine of Dacia: “The Letter speaks of deeds; Allegory of faith; the Moral how to act; Anagogy our destiny.”[3]  St. Thomas Aquinas, in his Summa Theologiae, arguing against the notion that these distinctions bear any duplicity of meaning, explains how the allegorical, moral, and anagogical senses all compose what is termed the ‘spiritual sense’ of Scripture.  He emphasizes the unity of meaning in Scripture by asserting that the three spiritual senses are founded on and draw their meaning from the literal.[4]  The post-synodal apostolic exhortation Verbum Domini recalls and affirms the same four senses and St. Thomas’ demarcation of them into the literal and spiritual.[5]  Verbum Domini further expounds on these two senses, insisting that, although distinct, they must not be read in a dualistic manner, which threatens to place the literal and spiritual understanding of Scripture in opposition.[6]  The literal and spiritual sense of Scripture, therefore, are as closely connected as body and soul; the one being absurdly meaningless without the other.

Taking into account these two senses, it may seem permissible to suggest that the inerrancy of scripture extends to the deeper, spiritual sense which contains matters of faith, hope, and morals, while the literal sense, concerning historical events, is in major part safe from the challenges of historical contradiction as it does not seem to bear any significance in relation to salvation.  For example, it is clear that to confess the Catholic Faith is to admit of the life, death, and resurrection of Christ.  These concrete events thus compose a sure portion of the historical truth of the Bible.  Some, however, would suggest the presence of error in accounts found in both the Old and New Testaments which are at best unlikely.[7]  

This judgment is often based on a proposed interpretation of the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation Dei Verbum.  It is thus stated in section 11 of Dei Verbum, concerning the inspiration and interpretation of Scripture:

…since everything asserted by the inspired authors or sacred writers must be held to be asserted by the Holy Spirit, it follows that the books of Scripture must be acknowledged as teaching solidly, faithfully and without error that truth which God wanted put into sacred writings for the sake of salvation.[8]

It seems plausible to interpret this passage to mean that that which God put into Scripture concerning salvation is inerrant; i.e. that inerrancy applies only to events significant to salvation.  This could not be held in light of the preceding statement that “...everything asserted by the inspired authors” has come from the Holy Spirit, which clearly defines the extent to which God’s truth can be found.[9]  Furthermore, such a misinterpretation cannot be held in respect to the teaching of the Church which has addressed such and similar views prior to the promulgation of Dei Verbum.

In Pope Leo XIII’s encyclical Providentissimus Deus, on the study of Holy Scripture, he addresses the issue of interpretation and scriptural inerrancy in regards to scientific or historical opposition.  He recalls the words of St. Augustine:

…I must say briefly that in the matter of the shape of heaven the sacred writers knew the truth, but that the Spirit of God, who spoke through them, did not wish to teach men these facts that would be of no avail for their salvation.[10]

Pope Leo XIII explains that the sacred writers often wished only to describe things in a figurative sense and in ways of speaking as was common to their time.[11]  It is apparent that the Bible was not intended by its authors (human or divine) to be a scientific treatise but merely portrays how the human authors perceived the world around them.  Augustine, however, as stated above, also claims that the sacred writers knew the truth, suggesting that, although they merely spoke of their immediate perception, their knowledge of material things reflected the truth as well.  Leo XIII, alluding to Augustine, warns “…not to depart from the literal and obvious sense [of Scripture], except only where reason makes it untenable or necessity requires.”[12]  This is a counsel to cling to the literal sense and form interpretations as closely as possible to the original meaning of the text.  It is not permission to discredit a passage of Scripture simply because it does not make immediate rational sense or is in opposition to some current historical or scientific standpoint.  He later in his encyclical makes this clear:

…It is absolutely wrong and forbidden, either to narrow inspiration to certain parts only of Holy Scripture, or to admit that the sacred writer has erred.  For the system of those who, in order to rid themselves of these difficulties, do not hesitate to concede that divine inspiration regards the things of faith and morals, and nothing beyond, because (as they wrongly think) in a question of the truth or falsehood of a passage, we should consider not so much what God has said as the reason and purpose which He had in mind in saying it – this system cannot be tolerated.[13]

It is therefore imperative to give full credibility to what is written in Sacred Scripture, with the allowance of reason to guide our understanding, but certainly not in a way which compromises what is being communicated to us, in any sense, through Scripture.

This strict limit to interpretation may seem to some as some kind of quasi-fundamentalism.  Pope Benedict XV, however, in his encyclical Spiritus Paraclitus, seems to set even further limits by taking an even stronger position with inerrancy.  He recalls the words of his predecessor (quoted above) and takes ‘certain parts’ of scripture to mean not only passages in the text but also the different senses therein contained.[14]  He states that those who fail to recognize the “absolute truth” of Scripture’s “historical portions” place themselves in opposition to Church teaching.[15]  Throughout his encyclical, he strongly emphasizes the necessity of keeping faith in the historical truth of Scriptures; most especially in the Gospels.

Pope Pius XII, in his encyclical Divino Afflante Spiritu, continues in the same spirit as his above mentioned predecessors in his treatment of Scriptural inerrancy.  He recalls the words of Leo XIII and affirms his position that Sacred Scripture cannot be restricted solely to matters of faith and morals, rebuking those who posit the concept of ‘obiter dicta’ (things said on passing) as inapplicable to salvation and therefore not necessarily inerrant.[16]  He continues throughout his encyclical to describe the importance of historical and critical exegesis and the study of original texts in their respective languages.

Lest one think that the teaching of the Church throughout the last century has been one of fundamentalist leanings, with a phobia of science and honest historical inquiry, it should perhaps be noted that faith in the truth of Scripture is coupled by a familiarized need for its rational understanding.  To say that Scripture is in every way inerrant is not to say that all knowledge which comes to us must be cast aside if it seems in opposition to Holy Writ.  The key to forming an understanding of literal inerrancy is humility.  As Leo XIII has helped to express, referencing St. Augustine, one cannot think to understand the whole of Scripture, but if something should arise as to bring up some issue concerning its truth which cannot seem to be reconciled both with faith and reason, one must regard it ultimately as a fault of his own understanding.[17]

How does one thus improve his understanding of Sacred Scripture?  In regards to faithful literal interpretation, the Church deems the historical-critical method (i.e. seeking to understanding the meaning intended by Scripture’s human authors in their own contexts) not only greatly useful but even necessary.  A clear promotion of this method is found namely in Divino Afflante Spiritu and further emphasis is given to its importance in the Historical Biblical Commission’s The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church (1993).  The latter specifically states that it is to be used in achieving the true literal sense of Scripture.[18]  When reading a text which has been written centuries in the past and in a culture greatly different from one’s own, the “face value” of the text does not convey the same meaning as its author originally intended.  Thus there are many nuances involved in understanding the text which the average modern reader could not grasp without proper guidance.  For example, whether the evangelists considered it necessary to portray the story of Christ’s life with chronological precision or to transmit His words verbatim does not often factor into a common understanding of the text’s primary meaning.  Yet such considerations greatly affect the interpretation of both the literal and spiritual sense.  Indeed, one cannot think to understand just what the literal sense means without properly understanding its meaning as the author did. 

The day the sun stood still

Even in considering the author’s intention, it may seem an issue as to whether the author decided to portray events in ways differing from how they actually took place.  The Pontifical Biblical Commission, in Sancta Mater Ecclesia (1964), helps by clarifying the apparent discrepancy which comes from ‘unfaithful’ historical accounts.  If the Gospels, for instance, do not portray the events of Christ’s life in the order which they actually took place (e.g. inconsistencies are often pointed out between the order of events in John and Mark), this would not in any way affect the truth which the Gospels contain.[19]   The Commission explains that each evangelist was occupied with the task of writing for a particular community with a particular culture and with particular emphases to communicate.  The truth of the Gospels is not therefore compromised if one or more of their authors decided to portray the events less as a strict record of events but more in light of their evangelical purposes.[20]  Furthermore, God is not to be forgotten as the one who inspired the writers of scripture to give their account in whatever manner they did.[21]

Does not the text itself then lack truth by not portraying what is taken literally?  As Verbum Domini attests, the Holy Spirit continues to speak through Scripture even in modern contexts.[22]  The spiritual sense of Scripture is, as it were, living and breathing; transcending cultural and temporal limitations in articulating matters of faith, hope, and morals.  The literal sense, upon first inspection, seems to be dead in comparison.  The text signifies an action or event, be it historical or metaphorical, which either was or was not the case at the time of its composition.  Once a text is written, the literal form does not change; i.e. the first ‘layer’ of meaning becomes static.  The text then, as it would seem, either expresses the factual character of the things signified or it does not represent things as they actually are and is thus in error.  It is thus easy to see how, with such an approach, one can be brought to question the inerrancy of Scripture’s literal sense.  This is often a seemingly commonsense way of evaluating the meaning of a text, given the analytical and scientific tendencies of modern thinking, but it does not consider the meaning intended behind the words themselves.

Furthermore, there is meaning intended behind every word in Scripture and as such, nothing written down can be discounted as insignificant.  As words are used to signify events, so also do the events signify even deeper realities which share their meaning with these events.  In the words of St. Paul, “If Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is in vain and your faith is in vain.”[23]  So too does every truth in Scripture bear significance to the Faith.   God inspired his hagiographers to portray the truth he intended and they must have been aware of this truth insofar as they assented to His inspiration.  Thus, as the authors have recognized the significance of the events they portrayed, we must recognize them in faith.  There is no hope without the Resurrection and there is no Savior without the Incarnation, but less-climatic events also contribute meaning to the Faith.  God made a covenant with the real person Abraham, a real Moses who led Israel out of Egypt, and a real prophecy that foretold the Messiah.  Had not the coinciding events of the Gospels actual taken place and fulfilled those actual events of the Old Testament, what significance can we place on them?  If the reality signified by the written text does not coincide with actual events then what meaning can really be ascribed to it?

This is a point at which the nuances of historical fact, truth, and actual events must be fully expounded upon and understood.  Events as they are portrayed in Scripture have a crucial significance in the history of salvation.  Throughout the Old Testament, for example, God’s plan is revealed over the course of time to His chosen people.  His presence is known throughout history. History, however, is understood today as the record of facts precisely as they happened.  So, when one attempts to read the Old Testament from a modern perspective, there is a temptation to read the literal sense as a record of facts for facts’ sake.  This is perpetuated by a poor understanding of the significance of historical events.

The events portrayed in Scripture are significant insofar as they are expressions of the relationship between God and His people: Creation, the fall, The Tower of Babel, The Deluge, the Covenant with Abraham, the flight from Egypt, and the conquest of the Hebrews are all historical events.  However, whether these events happened as they were written was not necessarily the intended message of the hagiographers.  This is not to say that such events did not take place as they were written.  This is only to say that the proper understanding of the text must be informed by reason and what is known of the author’s purpose and intent as was inspired by the Holy Spirit.

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[1] Providentissimus Deus, Leo XIII, 20.

[2] ibid.  (Leo XIII expounds this in his encyclical and cites the First Vatican Council, St. Augustine, and St. Gregory the Great)

[3] CCC, 118

[4] Summa Theologiae, I, q. 1, art. 10

[5] Verbum Domini, 37

[6] op. cit. 35

[7] cf. Gn 5.8, Gn 7.23, Js 10.13, Mt 2.16, Mt 27.9

[8] Dei Verbum, 11.

[9] ibid. (emphasis added)

[10] De Gen. ad Litt. II, ix., 20

[11] Providentissimus Deus, 18

[12] op. cit. 15.

[13] op. cit. 20

[14] Spiritus Paraclitus, Benedict XV, 21

[15] op. cit. 22

[16] Divino Afflante Spiritu, Pius XII, 1

[17] Providentissimus Deus, 21

[18] The Interpretation of the Bible in the Church, Pontifical Biblical Commission (1993), II, B. 1

[19] The Instruction on the Historical Truth of the Gospels, Pontifical Biblical Commission (1964), 9

[20] ibid.

[21] ibid.

[22] Verbum Domini, 35.

[23] 1 Corinthians 15.14

Basic Weak Atheistic Existential Philosophies

Self-Interest as the Solution to Christianity; an Elliptical Critique

Here I wish to shed some light on a rather common mentality in our time: Self-interest. The self-interested man is one who continues the plight of the animal and forges his will by means of superior intellect to satiate his primal instinct to survive.  He is the Übermensch, the artist, the man who escapes the snares of “mediocrity”, the man freed from master-slave morality, who overthrows the shackles of taboo, who undermines the machinations of Attila and the Witchdoctor, who has buried the fabricated notion of summum bonum and has set himself up as his own god.  He recognizes power for what it is and wields his own.  Scoffing at the funerary culture of Christianity, still grieving its deceased deity, he is free.  All things proceeding from his own will, he is his own prime mover. All things directed by his own desire, he is his own form of good.  All potentiality flees before him as he creates himself through his own act.  He is, to himself, eternal.  He was there at the beginning and will be there at the end.  The world without him is meaningless because the world only exists to him insofar as he exists. He is not a microcosm within the universe:  Everything is as it is to himself:  He is the cosmos.  He lives with one notion ever reverberating through his mind, “I am who I am.”  He claims he is comfortable with this and this is what makes him most ridiculous.

Among all the truths he conjures and inculcates into his infallible worldview, one haunts him like the devil: “I will die.”  It is an ugly fact of which even the lowest animal is somewhat aware.  The primal instinct is to escape death and, for intelligent man, this instinct exudes forth from his brain as an obsession.  The Over-man is still trodden under by death and this is the humor which mingles with Nietzsche’s notion of the “gay science.”  For the egoist, the attempt to apply meaning to life is absurd.  All is futile.  All is vain.  Whatever cause, whatever impetus man finds to occupy himself dies with himself.  Mediocrity is overcome in pursuit of immortality but immortality is merely a sham and the greatest allegation against mankind’s inexorable demise.  We are, each one of us, doomed to die.

What is immortality?  The historically minded person who thinks that immortality subsists in posthumous fame or the continuation of his legacy or geniture need only ask himself if this would give satisfaction to his own will to survive.  It does not.  Alas, the greatest humor of our existence is that mortal man is too smart for his own good.  He transcends himself merely by thinking of the world without him which inevitably will be the case.  For quite some time, the world existed without him and will continue to exist after he is gone.  Mind games aside, he cannot cope with this.  The individual cannot squeeze his mind into the tiny frame of subjectivity and call himself content with his own “eternity”.  He knows that his end is upon him even now: Even now we are wasting away:  Even now our bodies succumb to decay.  Many see their impending death take hold of them slowly, torturously, and so unbearably that they hasten it.  Man becomes so oppressed by his own mortality that he often fails to see the value of life at all.  Old and feeble, mind slipping this way and that, friends and family already gone, he puts a weapon to his head or perhaps takes the rest of his medication all at once.  This, surely, is mediocrity.  Is it better to live on in the face of irresistible failure or to go against one’s primal instinct?  Either way, we are finished.  How depressing life is.  Man craves to exist but sees his very existence slipping like sand out of his mighty hands.

It is apparent that our attitudes are led in any of three directions.  Many choose to believe that “this” life is not our only life:  Immortality is the most common precept among religions and one need not wonder why.  It seems that immortality is somehow inherent to our thinking, as if primal man merely assumed that he would keep living on in some way after death.  The thought of life after death is an inclination so natural to man that we accept it without reserve from early childhood.  We cannot fully grasp the thought of non-existence and so it is no offense to the intellect to believe that we cannot entirely cease to exist.  We are hard pressed to explain how, but it makes sense to us.  It is a mysterious notion, but an easy notion because it is so satisfying.

Many may attest to their belief in the hereafter but nonetheless inadvertently fall into another attitude:  Unsatisfied by the shadowy uncertainty of religion, their craving for immortality turns to distraction. Ravenous consumers, rabid hedonists, and raging addicts of all kinds fill every waking moment with pleasure, noise, and work.  It is most likely the most common attitude of our time.   Look around and bask in wanton distraction.  Death is the last thing we wish to think about and, even when death comes into our home and makes her presence felt in our family, we hide her behind rituals, eulogies, flowers, decoration, formaldehyde, and a lot of makeup.  When one cannot see around death into the afterlife, he closes his eyes and runs from it.

Perhaps to be ever on the run is a pitiful way to go about life but, all existential dilemmas considered, it is a valid alternative to a third and even more pitiful attitude; to look death in the face and accept it.  This is real mediocrity.  This is submission to slavery.  This is direct tyranny without law or arbiter.  The will to survive courses through the marrow of our bones but it is not enough.  Someday, we will not be.  It is our greatest imperative to exist; we must exist, but we are not in control of this.  We can negate ourselves, but we cannot keep ourselves alive.  We have a mind for eternity, but our bodies fail us.  We are each one of us a failure, but to accept this failure and die with it is worse.

Self-interest is supreme stupidity.  To see one’s own failure amounts only to wisdom; to recognize what it is to be human; to be contingent.  But the self-interested man, though he is bound to accept his ultimate failure, refuses to believe. He takes wisdom only part-way and dies with it, too proud to give credence to success.  He cannot, because to admit the possibility of salvation is to admit his own impotency; that his primal instinct can only be sated by someone other than himself.  This is mediocrity.

John the Baptist and Humility

Many of the virtues which are valued in Christianity are not in themselves strictly Christian:  That is, Christianity herself shares and, in a way, “borrows” many of her defined concepts for right action most notably from the great thinkers of ancient Greece.  The cardinal virtues are the best example of this, Aristotle having spoken most extensively on them until Aquinas recognized and further delineated the philosopher’s insights.   There are some Christian virtues, however, which seem particular to Christianity; virtues which would be, without the Christian’s chief telos, absurd and befitting a place in Aristotle’s treatment of vices.  Humility is a striking example of this kind of Christian virtue which is, at best, misunderstood by those who witness it from outside a Christian perspective.  One of the greatest saints in the Christian tradition, John the Baptist, may be seen, in light of the Gospels’ sparse accounts of his life, to be a clear and simple witness to Christ.  St. John, the forerunner to Christ, was enabled to fulfill his God-given mission by the disposition formed through the virtue of humility and, living out this virtue, he helps to give us a true understanding of it and how it enlivens our relationship with Jesus Christ. 

Before attempting to examine a life of humility, let us consider what exactly makes humility so different from the classical virtues.  Aristotle was not utterly incognizant of something akin to humility.  As regards one’s internal disposition to his own worth, he describes the virtue of “high-mindedness"[1] in relation to the contrary vices of pettiness and vanity:

A man is regarded as high-minded when he thinks he deserves great things and actually deserves them…  A man who thinks he deserves great things but does not deserve them is vain… One who underestimates himself is small-minded…[2]

Aristotle speaks here of one’s entitlement to honor, stating that one should regard himself as great according to what he deserves.[3]  At first glance, the virtue of “high-mindedness” (often translated magnanimitas or ‘greatness of soul’) may seem quite different from the Christian concept of humilitas (which translated literally means ‘earthiness’).  The key notion which Aristotle seemed to conceptualize when explaining high-mindedness was that the manner in which one regards himself ought to reflect the truth; that one who deserves great things should also think he deserves great things.  This inward recognition of one’s true worth is in fact essential to the proper understanding of Christian humility.  Where humility and Aristotle’s “high-mindedness” differ is where the Christian can see a deeper truth than Aristotle would have been able to comprehend; that is, our true worth in relation to a personal God.

Of course, when comparing ourselves to an infinitely good and perfect God, we are close to nothing.  This does not mean however that we should regard ourselves as nothing.  Aristotle gives us a suitable means by which to avoid the extremes of pride and false-humility; extremes which may lead one on to presumption or despair.  While Aristotle roots his golden mean in the recognition of truth, St. John the Baptist went further still, living out his life in recognition of the Truth that is Jesus Christ.

The Gospel accounts of the life of St. John have an overarching feature which demonstrates the real fruit of humility:  Every action of St. John directs our attention to Christ.  Indeed, the Baptist never speaks for his own benefit but, in a yet more profound way, he manages to transfer all dialogue to the impending coming and verification of Christ.  He debuted into the Gospel narrative while still in his mother’s womb, “leaping for joy” at the arrival of Mary bearing the Lord.[4]  His early testimony did not draw attention to himself, but initiated Elizabeth’s proclamation “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!”[5] 

John was born and scarcely had he entered the world when his father, Zechariah, announced his earthly mission, “you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways…”[6]  John did not linger but, as we are told, he retreated into the wilderness until he appears again, fulfilling the mission his father announced. 

When we next see John, he has already begun his work, baptizing and announcing the kingdom.  The Jews are interested in his purpose, “[sending] priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, ‘Who are you?’”[7]  John was wise enough to determine what they had in mind and his response was straightforward and direct, “I am not the Christ.”[8]  John, after confessing that he is neither a prophet nor Elijah, never actually identifies himself.  He quotes the prophet Isaiah, which his father Zechariah had echoed to him previously, “Make straight the way of the Lord.”[9]  It is noted by the Fathers that John was already held in high esteem by the Jews, which is made apparent by the fact he is yet of dignified birth, being the son of a priest, and by their choice to send priests and Levites from Jerusalem.[10]  John nonetheless did not attempt to garner credibility by means of his lineage.  He makes it quite clear that men who think themselves noble by birth have best to reconsider, “…do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.”[11]  By these words, it is obvious that John is well aware of his “nearness to the ground”. 

The Baptist, however, did not let the knowledge of his lowly state paralyze him in his mission.  He does not use his noble descent as justification for his work, but rather maintains his purpose in direct relation to God, “No one can receive anything except what is given him from heaven.”[12]  He keeps far from any notion of self-justification, as any true prophet, but also continues to draw our attention away from himself.  He asserts his right to baptize, but immediately compares himself to Christ, “I baptize with water; but among you stands one whom you do not know, even he who comes after me, the thong of whose sandal I am not worthy to untie.”[13]

The Baptist was so determined in his work and intent on his purpose that he reached the point of self-emptying:  He was not one to be self-preoccupied.  John had scarcely seen Jesus coming from afar when he became the first to bear Him public testimony:  “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!”  John is the first to identify Jesus as the Messiah.  He admits that he did not know him prior to their encounter, but testifies at the prompting of the Holy Spirit, “…this is the Son of God.”[14]  John’s lack of self-interest facilitated his selfless ministry and his guileless testimony, which bore visible fruit for those around him.  In the account given us in the Gospel of John, it was the Baptist whose testimony led the first apostles, Simon and Andrew, to Christ’s side.[15]  John’s general message held the greatest concern for the souls of those who listened to him, calling for repentance and leading all of Judea and the surrounding country to confess their sins.[16]

St. John’s ascetical life is attested to in the synoptic Gospels, “John wore a garment of camel’s hair, and a leather girdle around his waist; and his food was locusts and wild honey.”[17]  The Fathers give various observations on the significance of such penitential conduct:  John’s penance speaks of a lack of concern for his own comfort, however not for mere self-disdain, but out of concern for the sins of the human race.[18]  It is noted furthermore that John was fully fit to be a witness to Christ because he had become a witness to himself.[19]  Again, it can be seen that every one of John’s deeds was done for the glorification of Jesus Christ.

The most fitting statement by John in the Gospels which aids in the understanding of humility is given in response to his own disciples.  Confronted with the news that Jesus had begun baptizing, he expresses his joy at hearing of the bridegroom and resigns himself, “He must increase, but I must decrease.”[20]  St. Augustine, commenting on these words, reflects on the comparison between Jesus and John:  “…a man’s confession, a man’s humility, is God’s pity, God’s exaltation.”[21]  He notes the differences even in the manner of their birth and death, if such an interpretation may be permitted, “John was beheaded, Christ was lifted up on the cross.  Then [sic] Christ was born, when the days begin to lengthen; John, when they begin to shorten.”[22]

We can thus see the way in which humility works in one’s life:  It empties us of ourselves, disinterested in our own motives, so that we may be filled with the love of Christ.    Humility is a confrontation and acknowledgment of the truth; that the Truth is always greater.  This acceptance of our lowliness, however, does not paralyze us.  It does not leave us groveling or scraping so much that we dare not approach God.  Instead, it ought to challenge us to live out our lives for His glory.  St. John was certainly respected by those in his time, even by some Jews who did not respect Jesus, but all of his credibility and authority was used to witness that Christ was the Son of God.  John was loud and fierce, a voice which was heard from far and wide:  He shows us that humility is not concerned simply with being quiet.  He rather shows us that, as his calling required, he had to cast off all cares for himself in order to direct others to the Messiah.  Humility drives us to action, not necessarily to close in on and hide ourselves, but simply to pursue Christ without shame.

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[1] megalopsychia

[2] Aristotle Ethica Nicomachea 1123b 1-10

[3] op. cit. 27

[4] Luke 1.41-44

[5] Lk 1.42

[6] Lk 1.76

[7] Jn 1.19

[8] Jn 1.20, Catena Aurea 46

[9] Jn 1.23, Is 40.3

[10] Catena Aurea Jn I.19-23 (Chrys.)

[11] Mt 3.9

[12] Jn 3.27

[13] Jn 1.26-27

[14] Jn 1.34

[15] Jn 1.37

[16] Mt 3.5-6

[17] Mt 3.4

[18] Catena Aurea Mt III.4 (Remig.)

[19] op. cit. (Pseudo-Chrys.)

[20] Jn 3.30

[21] Catena Aurea Jn III.27-30 (Aug.)

[22] ibid.