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A theological inquiry: what do you believe were all of Christ’s personal motivations to be crucified, and what was the overriding motivation? We have, of course, brotherly love (John 15:13). But there’s also the motivation to live so as to exemplify the glory of God (17:4); to receive glory for himself from God (17:5) (5:44); consequently, there is the interest to always do God’s will (5:30) and work (4:34). There is also the intriguing verse that His motivation was for his own heavenly joy (Heb 12:2), as “for the joy that was set before him he endured the cross”, which I think is the only verse which directly links personal motivation to the cross. This joy is not necessarily mutually exclusive to God’s glory, because glory itself is a supreme joy.
Regarding the overriding motivation, I am partial to Heb 12:2, that Christ was motivated by the glorious “joy set before him”, because the whole passage reads almost like a doxological summation of the faith (“let us look to the founder and perfecter of our faith”). It ties in neatly with a different underrated verse: “Those who, through patience in well-doing, seek for glory and honor and immortality, God will give eternal life” (Romans 2:7), while the “self-seeking” face wrath (2:8). This is somewhat tricky because we no longer talk about glory as an emotion today. But if you understand that glory is a feeling that always emanates from a person’s assessment, then seeking God’s glory is not self-seeking, because all of the “social valuation” exists within another person. Seeking one’s own glory would mean something like “wanting to believe oneself to be glorious”, which is different and to be condemned. “Seeking that God give us glory” is equivalent to just “wanting to do our best so that God gives a ‘well done’”.
Maybe this is just the consequentialist in me, but it seems like love for humanity and the enabling of their salvation has to be the overriding one. Suppose that you literally had to pick one:
1: God will get glory equal to saving all of humanity, but you will not be gloried, and humanity will not actually be saved and they'll all go to hell
2: God will not get glory (at least, not any extra from your decision), but you will get glory from God as if you had saved humanity, but humanity will not actually be saved and they'll all go to hell
3: God will not get any additional glory, and you will not get any personal glory or credit, but humanity will be saved (or at least, have the ability to repent and be saved if they so choose)
Setting aside the inherent contradictions (because it would be unjust for God not to glory you or himself for saving humanity) for the sake of the thought experiment, it seems to me that the actually most good action would be 3: save the people. And this is in line with everything else Jesus preached. You do good works, even at the cost of your own material well-being, and then this automatically glories God and yourself automatically as secondary effects. But you have to actually do good.
Now, in reality all of these are inextricably linked: God only gives commands iff they are good iff they benefit people iff they glorify Himself iff they glorify the person who does them. I think that on a fundamental level there isn't even a meaningful distinction between "doing good" and "glorifying God", otherwise God would have said different things until they became the same thing. So I strongly suspect that Jesus had all of them as equally strong motivations because they're all the same thing if you have true understanding (which he did). But in-so-far as you consider them to be distinct, I think the saving of humanity was the primary motivation (but this might just be my perspective as a selfish human who loves being saved more than I love glorifying God)
Yet would [3] really be the motive with the highest good in a consequentialist sense? It may not be, insofar as the motive and conduct of Christ is for our imitation. Because if we believe that Christ’s guiding motivation was pure love for others, then we would likewise believe that our own guiding and primary motivation ought to be love for others. But here we may be wrong. Because Christ never says that love for others should be paramount, only that love for neighbor should be equivalent to the love we have for ourselves. The love for God is the paramount love, significantly greater than our love for neighbor, uniquely requiring “all your heart and all your soul and all your mind and all your strength”.
If Christ’s overarching moral motivation was to obey God for God’s glory, knowing that he will share in that glory and receive honor from God, then his motivation makes a lot more sense. Glory has been the motivation for all kinds of self-sacrificial acts throughout human history, whereas “love for humanity” is rare, if not nonexistent. (The man does not rush in to a burning home to save strangers because he loves humanity, but because he knows (from media) that this is glorious, and a glorious way to die). Additionally, the Epistles say that when we suffer morally, we should do so with glory in mind:
We do not suffer because “it’s right”, or love our enemy (though we ought to do so), but because we will feel glory. And to be Christians means to be —
The “social rewards” from God are intrinsically linked to moral conduct by Christ:
If Christ’s motivation was glory, both for his Father and for his divine family and for himself, then we would likewise imitate this, and this would lead to glorious moral acts. But if Christ’s motivation was pure and uncorrupted “love for humanity”, then we will only feel a gnawing discomfort at the impossibility of our ever replicating this motivation in any legitimate sense.
I would broadly agree that glory as a motivation is easier to follow, as it's more inherently rewarding. While love for others is less inherently rewarding and thus a larger sacrifice. Which in turn is why it is MORE good. It is... easy is not the right word... easier to follow glory, to do good things which will give you glory, than it is to do good things which will merely help others but not yourself. Someone who is filled with a desire for glory but not a love for their neighbors might do all kinds of things, and only by sheer coincidence will those things be truly good, while someone who is filled with a love for their neighbors and no desire for glory will live a humble and self sacrificing life doing small amounts of good. Although someone with both will do large acts of good that help many many people, and thus is even better.
A motivation for glory is a smaller, easier stepping stone to reach. A motivation of love for humanity is a greater goal which is much much harder to attain but of greater value if attained.
It's axiomatic that no human can possibly reach the true goodness of Jesus. We are imperfect sinful humans. So you have to figure out how to not despair at never reaching the goal, and do your best anyway. Again, I think that on a fundamental level there isn't truly a distinction between actions which glorify ourselves, actions which glorify God, and actions which show love to humanity. They're the same actions. There are things which people might define as "glory" which harm people like being a murderous conqueror, but don't give true glory because they are evil and sinful. Ultimately true glory comes from doing the most good. So you don't really have to choose, just do all the good things for all the good reasons. But I think love for humanity, although harder to attain, is harder to corrupt once present. Still possible, but harder. There are fewer examples of actions which superficially seem loving but are actually evil than there are actions which superficially seem glorious but are actually evil. But in the end I think Jesus was motivated by all of them, so imitating him by yourself following all of the motivations seems like a more robust way to do good than following one of them to the exclusion of the others. You're more likely to notice when you're being led astray when the motivations appear to diverge instead of converge like they're supposed to.
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What’s the general consensus among your kind of Christian on Jesus’ theory of mind on this? Since he knew he was divine, the Son, part of the trinity, was he not simply fulfilling his destiny, living out an inevitability of which he was fully and consciously aware the entire time, an actor in a play whose audience were mankind - for the benefit of their own salvation?
My own thoughts on this question are far from the mainstream, exactly because of the things you mention, which I don’t believe were the original intention. Mainstream theology makes Jesus out as inhuman, and no amount of saying “he is 100% human as well as 100% God” can change that visceral feeling. So in my view, his theory of mind was just that of the most realistically perfect righteous person, and in some mysterious way he learned over time that he was the destined messiah. Per Luke 2:52, as a child “Jesus increased in wisdom and in favor with God”, which precludes the possibility that he always knew his destiny. There is a manuscript variant of the baptism in Luke where God’s voice says, “you are my son, today I have begotten you”, and as this is the oldest variant quoted by the Church Fathers, it could indicate that the full understanding of his divine role occurred at the moment of baptism (occurring sometime in adulthood).
How did his purely human theory of mind sense with certainty that he was the Messiah? I think a combination of things: the testimony of John, whom everyone believed was sent by God; the voice of God heard aloud at the baptism; his ability to heal various impossible physical conditions, and to restore life to Lazarus (this would kind of be a dead giveaway); his biographical details fitting the Messish. Lastly I believe there were events of anamnesis which occurred during his periods of solitary prayer. This would have occurred like your typical fantasy “recollecting past memories after amnesia” plotline, which sounds so contrived, but it’s actually the best way to make sense of Christ’s certainty and doubt coexisting, and his mortality coexisting with “God dwelling in Him” (as an understanding and a love in his bosom only). Because a real human often changes from a sense of perfect certainty to a sense of doubt, and this would occur even in the most realistically perfect person. This isn’t because we have “two natures” or any other spurious theological mindfuck that theologians love to apply.
All of this is to say that his theory of mind was exactly like ours, if we were perfect and given intimations of a cosmic destiny. This means he is infinitely relatable, infinitely human, infinitely engaging. Rather than being more God than us, he is more human than us, and that’s actually more important for the religion to have an effect. He was human because
And as a consequence of this full humanity,
That Jesus was fully divine while on earth and had a perfectly divine prediction of what will happen is disproven by a careful study of Hebrews 5:7
Reverence = fear; and the word supplications here is ἱκετηρία, which is only used in contexts where a person pleas with utter submission (eg a surrendering enemy). Jesus would not have loudly cried and pleaded for salvation from death while on earth if he was certain he would be saved; and the passage indicates that he saved because of this plea.
Not that the Catholic Church cares much about doctrinal integrity these days, but there are at least two major heresies in this interpretation, the heresy of monothelitism and the heresy of adoptionism.
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Thank you, that was interesting. One thing:
Even if he knew he was going to be saved / go to heaven, he might still have loudly cried and pleaded for salvation. Firstly, because it drew attention to him, and his mission was ultimately the salvation of mankind through following him, and secondly because we plead for relief from pain even when we know it is good for us (life-saving surgery in the time before anaesthetic, for example).
Is your contention that Jesus, in mortal life, understood he was special but not that he was, in a way, God?
That theory could work re: pleading, but there are some problems. The passage seems to indicate that the object of the plea (or entreaty) was salvation from death (or the realm of the dead), not from the psychological torment associated with the event. This is reaffirmed in the content of the prayer: let this cup pass from me. And the only case of such a prayer occurring is during the Agony in the Garden; he is only around the disciples, who pay such little attention to him that they fall asleep. There is a sense of authenticity to this in Luke: “being in agony, he prayed more earnestly, his sweat as large drops of blood”.
The whole passage in Hebrews surrounding this is interesting too. It continues:
which is insightful and funny. He needed to learn obedience, and evidently the relationship between his humanity and divine purpose was difficult even for an apostle to articulate. Really, I think the mystery and variety is actually the point. The more mysterious Christ is, in a human way, the more you are drawn into the story, and drawn into imbuing your own situation onto the story. The greatest stories don’t often provide one concrete answer. But the story shouldn’t be mysterious in a logical or philosophical way. There’s nothing to gain from drawing people into thousands of hours of philosophical speculation that have no bearing on behavior, but there’s a lot to be gained when a community is drawn into the same story, identifying with and loving the same figure.
Yes, essentially. The Epistles clarify that Jesus is maximally Godly (“the fullness of deity dwells in him”, “the radiance of God’s glory”), but stops short of ever actually declaring that he is God. (Unless we want to abuse the Greek, which they do.) He is described in such a way that “in everything he might be preeminent”, and he has cosmic import and existed before the creation of the world (an existence which I do not think he fully understood while on earth). But the omission of any indisputable assertion or dogma that Jesus is God is really glaring. This would have been the thing that every early follower would be confused about, if it was taught, because of how strictly monotheistic Judaism was, and how there’s no Old Testament evidence of the Messiah being God. It would have been in the oldest Roman creed, but it’s not; in the Didache, but it’s not; and if would preached by Peter in Acts, but instead he calls Jesus a man. So yeah, I think this dogma was added a couple hundred years later, and for the worse.
Jesus is God (the Father) is not in the Nicene Creed either. Nathan Jacobs addresses the issue here: https://nathanajacobs.substack.com/p/does-jesus-claim-to-be-god
I don’t find this compelling.
Even this is too much. John 1 doesn’t tell us what happened to the Word upon becoming flesh, or in what sense the word became flesh, or even to what extent it became flesh. The exclamation of Thomas is just as likely to be the exclamation of someone having witnessed the power of God in Christ, of referring to God generally due to the shocking experience (as we say “my God” today). Romans 9:5 is just as easily read as a doxology to God the Father https://biblehub.com/commentaries/romans/9-5.htm
There are similar interpretative issues with the other mentioned passages. Hebrews 1:8 is the most compelling, but it quotes a psalm which itself speaks about David. Jesus himself teaches us how to understand this, when the Pharisees falsely accuse him of labeling himself a god despite being mortal:
Thus, the appellation of “god” applied to a mortal as used in the psalms should normally be intepreted as an exaggerated title of honor. This cannot refer to anything more, because “scripture cannot be broken”. The passage is telling: Jesus rebukes the idea that he is divine, and instead comes calling himself “son of God”. This was a title used to refer to those of supreme righteousness in the Book of Wisdom and Ecclesiasticus, which were important works circulating at the time. This is crucially important: no one at the time would have interpreted “son of God” as indicating a being as equally God as the Father is God.
Or in Mark 10
Note that the man revises the title of Christ according to Christ’s teaching. Christ is Good because God is good, not because he is God/god/ sharing in the divine nature or anything else. This passage makes virtually no sense in a Trinitarian understanding, because if Jesus is equally God he is equally omnibenevolent, inherently good. Well, that’s obviously not what Jesus is saying. All mortals are good only insofar as we radiate the glory of God, allowing ourselves to be sealed by His imprint (Hebrews 1:3).
The way in which Jesus is seen as divine (I would choose “heavenly”) is not as clear as you would expect. In the Shepherd of Hermas you find:
This is divine in an adoptionist sense, though the passage isn’t clear about when this adoption takes place (some verses in epistles seem to indicate after death).
This is not a good argument, because Jesus is clear that we are all born again from God, that we all become a son of God with the same oneness as Jesus is the son of God (John 17:22-23). Of course we are not turned into sons of God in the sense that we are suddenly turned into a divine being. Neither are we the preeminent Son of God, the firstfruits. But it’s totally anachronistic to make this into an argument for his being God, and it just reads as someone trying to trick those unfamiliar with how words were actually used at the time period.
Ultimately, the importance of adoptionism and “low Christology” is not because it’s the oldest and original, but because it’s essential for the religion to actually have an effect. The Christian must imagine Christ the Man tortured and slain. Truly dying. Truly identifying with him. Complicating this by turning the man into something unimaginable makes identification impossible, destroying the power of the cross. We cannot imagine a divine being with two natures dying on the cross and having this mean anything to us. That’s like telling us the Terminstor died for us. What do you expect the congregant to feel here? Does the mortal Christ have “locked in” syndrome as the divine nature impassibly does whatever is perfect without suffering? This does not inspire any feelings. It’s no longer a drama or tragedy, it’s just worthless philosophical syllogism.
It is basically the same argument Gregory of Nyssa uses. I am far from an expert in ancient or Koine Greek, though, so it is hard for me to independently evaluate what is or is not anachronistic. I agree that we are all called to be sons of God, and also that there is one (Only Begotten) Son of God; we are to attain by grace what He is by nature. And I think that Christ's (eternal) divinity is necessary for salvation. Irenaeus, who stated that man was created in the image and to attain the likeness of God, says:
Makes sense, I can see how an overemphasis on Christ's divinity causes problems. But I also think that part of the magic of the faith is its ability to hold certain opposites in tension.
Greg quotes 1 Corinthians 15:
But in the very line of thought in 1Cor15, Paul emphasizes that Jesus has to be a man for salvation to occur, because Adam was a man. There is no argument that Jesus has to be more than man for salvation to occur; that thought isn’t found. We read here:
By a man has come resurrection! Why would Paul not add that the man had to be divine? We see something of the opposite. The mere man Adam made us mortal; the mere man Christ made us immortal. (Adam is an interesting case when you think about it: a man given immortality while still being a man.)
We also find the notion that Jesus resurrecting is an auspicious indication for the general class of mortal men dying, such that because Jesus resurrected we are consequently sure that we all will be resurrected. This would be a bewildering argument to make unless both the author and audience were certain that Jesus is no more than a mortal man:
Now, if the author and the audience believed that Christ were more than mortal, then it would be perfectly reasonable to hold that there is resurrection of the dead while still Christ resurrected. Because Christ, being divine, can be resurrected, as he belongs to a category of being beyond mere mortals. A being who is both God and Man being resurrected would not indicate anything for the whole class of mortal men. Yet Paul says that his resurrection indicates that all men are resurrected, and Paul considers it impossible for anyone to hold that (1) Christ can be resurrected, while (2) other mortals can’t be resurrected. In effect Paul says here: you must believe that mortal men are resurrected, because if you don’t, then there is no possible way for Christ to be resurrected. And he reaffirms this twice, which is pretty remarkable; it may be the only case of Paul ever repeating the same argument nearly verbatim.
We also find the notion, again in this chapter, that the original state of Jesus in heaven was as a man:
So for Paul, even when talking about the heavenly origin of Jesus, there is no mention of anything except his being a man. This actually poses a problem for Trinitarianism which separates the two natures of Jesus as mortal and immortal, because afaik they believe that the mortal Jesus did not have his origin in heaven, only the Word. If the heavenly origin of Jesus is purely Word/God, then why is Paul speaking of a man from heaven? Even if this is technically logical(?), it’s a highly unusual way for someone to present the idea.
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Simplistic, but my atheistic interpretation was always just this as well.
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