The LCMS is allergic to the term “pietism” because of all the times it’s been turned into legalism and destroyed the emphasis on Jesus and his work—which is the only thing that matters in the end. But then, as a wise man once pointed out to me, there’s pietism and pietism—and if you keep growing in the Christian life, eventually you’re likely to reach a point where, from the outside, your behavior and that of a legalistic will be impossible for an outsider to tell the difference. Since the difference lies in motivation, freedom, etc I mean.
There’s also the problem that the account i give you of the LCMS is necessarily skewed by my perspective as a convert presently serving in a missionary context. Most of the Synod is neither.
Thinking about this more: even an emphasis on a personal relationship with Jesus might not necessarily lead to more contemplation of his humanity.
If a person conceives of this relationship as one in which Jesus "divinely" rescues the person from troubles, that might not allow for imagining Jesus as human, going through the same shit we do.
I think that is a very good point, @Leaf. Although it's always invidious to speculate or comment on other people's relationship with Christ. It's hard enough trying to 'evaluate' one's own.
I don't tend to regard icons as 'portraits' but I am glad in my own Tradition that Christ tends to be depicted in an 'impassive' way. Orthodox icons of Christ Pantocrator can be pretty stern. The eyes follow you around the room.
The depictions are benign, but the Christ of iconography isn't all cuddly or 'one of the lads.'
Colours are often used symbolically in icons of course and Christ is often depicted in a brown or ruddy-brown with is meant to emphasise earthy groundedness and humanity.
Orthodoxy tends to veer away from the kind of sentimentality encountered in pietistic circles and I'd imagine that Lutheranism, by and large, would echo that to some extent.
I tend to think that the view of Christ rescuing us from all our woes - 'What a friend we have in Jesus ...' - is a late 19th/early 20th century thing that has largely permeated certain forms of evangelicalism rather than other traditions - although parallels can of course be found elsewhere.
Orthodox icons of Christ Pantocrator can be pretty stern. The eyes follow you around the room.
The depictions are benign, but the Christ of iconography isn't all cuddly or 'one of the lads.'
For my own devotional life, I like as many images of Jesus as possible. Pantokrator, Laughing Jesus, Sallman's blond babe, every ethnicity under the sun, so-called "historical reconstructions", even terrible evangelical AI of Jesus helping you golf or whatever. With most of them, I feel I learn more about the artist than the Lord, but still.
Are there "laddish" images of Jesus? There are things I'm not sure I want in my search history.
Orthodox icons of Christ Pantocrator can be pretty stern. The eyes follow you around the room.
The depictions are benign, but the Christ of iconography isn't all cuddly or 'one of the lads.'
For my own devotional life, I like as many images of Jesus as possible. Pantokrator, Laughing Jesus, Sallman's blond babe, every ethnicity under the sun, so-called "historical reconstructions", even terrible evangelical AI of Jesus helping you golf or whatever. With most of them, I feel I learn more about the artist than the Lord, but still.
I’m particularly drawn to Jesus as the Good Shepherd. One of my treasures is a wood carving of the Good Shepherd I bought in Haiti when I was 16.
Are there "laddish" images of Jesus? There are things I'm not sure I want in my search history.
AIUI "lad, laddishness, lad culture" in British English roughly maps to "frat boy" in American English. It indicates rowdy young men with not-very progressive gender ideas and not-very socially positive behaviour. The image of Jesus as "one of the lads" might be problematic.
AIUI "lad, laddishness, lad culture" in British English roughly maps to "frat boy" in American English. It indicates rowdy young men with not-very progressive gender ideas and not-very socially positive behaviour. The image of Jesus as "one of the lads" might be problematic.
Ah, got it.
Then I’ll simply reiterate the recommendation I gave upthread of Christopher Moore’s Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal. It’s a great read.
There are very disturbing right-wing 'frat boy' / 'laddish' internet memes depicting a 'ripped Jesus' - all rippling muscles. Jesus as a kind of Charles Atlas body-builder type.
I've even seen one of him as a boxer.
I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want any of those in your gallery...
As an aside, yes, I'm partial to all manner of depictions of Christ and biblical scenes in general. Rembrandt's. Renaissance. Heck, even the Pre-Raphaelites.
But I'd make a distinction between religious art in general and iconography in the Orthodox sense. Which isn't to say that other forms of religious art can't be transcendent or transformational in some way. Of course they can.
But back to the plot ...
To what extent, given that we've mentioned the 'frat boy' thing, do we create or envisage Christ's humanity in our own image?
Then I’ll simply reiterate the recommendation I gave upthread of Christopher Moore’s Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal. It’s a great read.
Apologies for the tangent: I've not only read it - one year for Secret Santa, I gave a Shipmate the bougie "gift edition" of Lamb in faux leather with gold Gothic typeface. I felt from a distance it could pass as a suitably decorous religious book on their bookshelf.
To what extent, given that we've mentioned the 'frat boy' thing, do we create or envisage Christ's humanity in our own image?
I think this is a great question. I guess it's hard to avoid some transference. Although that transference is complicated when you're born in a certain type of body. That may be an issue more suited to Epiphanies.
To what extent, given that we've mentioned the 'frat boy' thing, do we create or envisage Christ's humanity in our own image?
Hmmm. Leaving the “frat boy” stereotype aside (it’s a stereotype I have issues with), your question immediately brought to mind the Alfred Burt Christmas poem/song “Some Children See Him.”
I strongly suspect part of the point of the Incarnation is to enable us to relate to Christ, to God. So it makes sense to me we should look for commonalities, that we should look to see ourselves in him.
And I think that’s great, as long as it doesn’t tempt us into thinking that the Jesus who actually walked the Earth was really, say, a blond of European descent.
There is indeed danger here, but with care and balance, there can also be significant meaning, especially if it helps deepen our understanding of our common humanity and Christ’s participation in that common humanity.
Then I’ll simply reiterate the recommendation I gave upthread of Christopher Moore’s Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal. It’s a great read.
Apologies for the tangent: I've not only read it - one year for Secret Santa, I gave a Shipmate the bougie "gift edition" of Lamb in faux leather with gold Gothic typeface. I felt from a distance it could pass as a suitably decorous religious book on their bookshelf.
I was introduced to it by a friend whose Sunday school class read it together.
I've never been greatly troubled by the fact that the four Evengelists create slightly different portraits of Jesus. The gospels, in their final forms, were written 40-70 years after the events, and memories can be quite individual, allowing also for the theological content each of the writers seeks to emphasise.
While I truly value the Gospel of John, with it's majestic prologue and unique theology, I think Jesus is often presented there as far more divine than human. Certainly he shows great human emotion at the tomb of Lazarus in chapter 11, but in 10.18 he says, "I have power to lay it down (his life) and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father." The lovely Palm Sunday hymn, "Ride on, ride on, in majesty" by H.H.Milman ends with the line, "Bow down your head to mortal pain, then take, O God, your power and reign." While the horrifically brutal way in which Jesus was tortured and died would have been awful even for God, it wouldn't have caused terror if he knew what it was all about.
Contrast this with the very human Jesus of Luke 22.44 "In his anguish he prayed more earnestly and his sweat became like great drops of blood." This is abject terror, which is a very human condition, and is brought out even more starkly in Mark 14, where there aren't even any angels to minister to him. And in Mark 15.34, he utters the cry of dereliction "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" Repeated in Matthew and a quote from Psalm 22.1. In Hebrews 5.8-9 we read, "Although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him."
As far as we know, it's the unique privilege of humans, in our world, to spend our entire lives in the shadow of death. When Jesus took on our humanity, and joined it to his divinity by "taking of the Manhood into God"(Creed of St Athanasius) he became one of us in all points except for sin. So he experienced temptation, sadness, anger, terror, despondent anguish and pain. Even perhaps a touch of pique from time to time.
I like to see the humanity of Jesus as his presence with us in all the horrors this world can throw at us, because he experienced it all in the 30 odd years in which he tabernacled among us.
The humanity of the historical Jesus is inaccessible to us, because we live after both the Resurrection and the Ascension. Not only do we live after these, but so did the gospel writers, and the communities/traditions which informed their work. We can only, therefore, see the humanity through the restored divinity. This matters because it throws us on the other sources: our own humanity and Christ's Pentecostal gift of his spirit. Whatever we may think of the historicity of John's account - and personally my view is that it is completely Christological and ahistorical - the depiction of the reality of our current relationship with God in all aspects, manifestations, etc. strikes me as accurate. We experience Jesus's humanity through our own, and through the gift of his spirit in us. This then enables us to see the incarnation continued in ourself and each other, and brought to life in the gospels.
@ThunderBunk I agree with everything in your very well worded analysis of the high value of John's gospel in our overall understanding of the Incarnation.
I've never been greatly troubled by the fact that the four Evengelists create slightly different portraits of Jesus. The gospels, in their final forms, were written 40-70 years after the events, and memories can be quite individual, allowing also for the theological content each of the writers seeks to emphasise.
While I truly value the Gospel of John, with it's majestic prologue and unique theology, I think Jesus is often presented there as far more divine than human. Certainly he shows great human emotion at the tomb of Lazarus in chapter 11, but in 10.18 he says, "I have power to lay it down (his life) and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father." The lovely Palm Sunday hymn, "Ride on, ride on, in majesty" by H.H.Milman ends with the line, "Bow down your head to mortal pain, then take, O God, your power and reign." While the horrifically brutal way in which Jesus was tortured and died would have been awful even for God, it wouldn't have caused terror if he knew what it was all about.
It's the bit in bold I'm taking exception to, though you can tell me if I've misunderstood. I knew what childbirth was all about, and I deliberately got pregnant, because I wanted a child to love. And still, at the thought of labor, I felt terror. In my experience, knowing what's all about does not change the terror factor. It may even make it worse.
Re the four Evangelists creating slightly different portraits of Jesus; at my father's funeral, my brother and I both spoke. I barely recognised the "Dad" my brother described. As the elder sibling I spoke first, and I described the fun Dad who enjoyed being a Dad and who taught us to swim and ride our bikes, and who was always interested, supportive and affectionate. I recalled the elaborate feats of engineering that were Dad's sandcastles on our summer beach holiday. My brother described my father as a man of integrity and high standards (true) who taught his children right from wrong (true) and was a strict disciplinarian (um.. what? maybe? sometimes? ) He recalled a incident in which Dad had been "harsh but fair" towards him.
I haven't discussed it with my brother, but I thought he might have been aiming for "appropriate for a solemn occasion" whilst I was aiming for "celebration of a life well-lived."
Since then I've looked at a photo of us on the beach building a sandcastle. It might have been July, but in the north of Scotland it was clearly freezing. We're wearing woolly jumpers and anoraks. I wonder if I was having the time of my life whilst my brother was suffering stoically?
If two siblings recall a close family member differently, what hope the Evangelists?
I don't view the gospels as the same genre of literature as reminiscences. And I don't find the explanation of the differences being because of different memories convincing.
I find modem scholarship that shows them to be theological constructs for different audiences using contemporary literary conventions much more convincing.
I certainly think that describing the gospels as “reminiscences“ undersells the artistry of construction and telling. On the other hand, the risk of highlighting their theological purpose with the terminology of “theological constructs“ undersells the extent to which they are built upon eyewitness evidence.
I don't view the gospels as the same genre of literature as reminiscences.
I doubt anyone does.
I also see little value in setting things up as “reminiscences” vs. “theological constructs.” That seems like a false and limiting dichotomy. A number of things can be going on at the same time.
I did say that my first thought was that my brother was speaking to a different purpose - "appropriate for a solemn occasion" versus "celebrating a life well-lived."
Comments
The LCMS is allergic to the term “pietism” because of all the times it’s been turned into legalism and destroyed the emphasis on Jesus and his work—which is the only thing that matters in the end. But then, as a wise man once pointed out to me, there’s pietism and pietism—and if you keep growing in the Christian life, eventually you’re likely to reach a point where, from the outside, your behavior and that of a legalistic will be impossible for an outsider to tell the difference. Since the difference lies in motivation, freedom, etc I mean.
There’s also the problem that the account i give you of the LCMS is necessarily skewed by my perspective as a convert presently serving in a missionary context. Most of the Synod is neither.
I'm not sure I could answer that accurately.
If a person conceives of this relationship as one in which Jesus "divinely" rescues the person from troubles, that might not allow for imagining Jesus as human, going through the same shit we do.
I don't tend to regard icons as 'portraits' but I am glad in my own Tradition that Christ tends to be depicted in an 'impassive' way. Orthodox icons of Christ Pantocrator can be pretty stern. The eyes follow you around the room.
The depictions are benign, but the Christ of iconography isn't all cuddly or 'one of the lads.'
Colours are often used symbolically in icons of course and Christ is often depicted in a brown or ruddy-brown with is meant to emphasise earthy groundedness and humanity.
Orthodoxy tends to veer away from the kind of sentimentality encountered in pietistic circles and I'd imagine that Lutheranism, by and large, would echo that to some extent.
I tend to think that the view of Christ rescuing us from all our woes - 'What a friend we have in Jesus ...' - is a late 19th/early 20th century thing that has largely permeated certain forms of evangelicalism rather than other traditions - although parallels can of course be found elsewhere.
For my own devotional life, I like as many images of Jesus as possible. Pantokrator, Laughing Jesus, Sallman's blond babe, every ethnicity under the sun, so-called "historical reconstructions", even terrible evangelical AI of Jesus helping you golf or whatever. With most of them, I feel I learn more about the artist than the Lord, but still.
Are there "laddish" images of Jesus? There are things I'm not sure I want in my search history.
Would the statue of the child Jesus outside the Children’s Chapel of Washington National Cathedral count? I love it, particularly how you can see how often his hands have been touched.
AIUI "lad, laddishness, lad culture" in British English roughly maps to "frat boy" in American English. It indicates rowdy young men with not-very progressive gender ideas and not-very socially positive behaviour. The image of Jesus as "one of the lads" might be problematic.
Then I’ll simply reiterate the recommendation I gave upthread of Christopher Moore’s Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal. It’s a great read.
I've even seen one of him as a boxer.
I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want any of those in your gallery...
As an aside, yes, I'm partial to all manner of depictions of Christ and biblical scenes in general. Rembrandt's. Renaissance. Heck, even the Pre-Raphaelites.
But I'd make a distinction between religious art in general and iconography in the Orthodox sense. Which isn't to say that other forms of religious art can't be transcendent or transformational in some way. Of course they can.
But back to the plot ...
To what extent, given that we've mentioned the 'frat boy' thing, do we create or envisage Christ's humanity in our own image?
Apologies for the tangent: I've not only read it - one year for Secret Santa, I gave a Shipmate the bougie "gift edition" of Lamb in faux leather with gold Gothic typeface. I felt from a distance it could pass as a suitably decorous religious book on their bookshelf.
It also brings to mind the icons of artists Kelly Latimore, such as “La Sagrada Famila” or “Refugees: The Holy Family”. Many of his icons are really invitations for some to see themselves reflected in Christ, and invitations for others to envisage Christ in the image of the “other.”
I strongly suspect part of the point of the Incarnation is to enable us to relate to Christ, to God. So it makes sense to me we should look for commonalities, that we should look to see ourselves in him.
And I think that’s great, as long as it doesn’t tempt us into thinking that the Jesus who actually walked the Earth was really, say, a blond of European descent.
There is indeed danger here, but with care and balance, there can also be significant meaning, especially if it helps deepen our understanding of our common humanity and Christ’s participation in that common humanity.
I was introduced to it by a friend whose Sunday school class read it together.
While I truly value the Gospel of John, with it's majestic prologue and unique theology, I think Jesus is often presented there as far more divine than human. Certainly he shows great human emotion at the tomb of Lazarus in chapter 11, but in 10.18 he says, "I have power to lay it down (his life) and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father." The lovely Palm Sunday hymn, "Ride on, ride on, in majesty" by H.H.Milman ends with the line, "Bow down your head to mortal pain, then take, O God, your power and reign." While the horrifically brutal way in which Jesus was tortured and died would have been awful even for God, it wouldn't have caused terror if he knew what it was all about.
Contrast this with the very human Jesus of Luke 22.44 "In his anguish he prayed more earnestly and his sweat became like great drops of blood." This is abject terror, which is a very human condition, and is brought out even more starkly in Mark 14, where there aren't even any angels to minister to him. And in Mark 15.34, he utters the cry of dereliction "My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?" Repeated in Matthew and a quote from Psalm 22.1. In Hebrews 5.8-9 we read, "Although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him."
As far as we know, it's the unique privilege of humans, in our world, to spend our entire lives in the shadow of death. When Jesus took on our humanity, and joined it to his divinity by "taking of the Manhood into God"(Creed of St Athanasius) he became one of us in all points except for sin. So he experienced temptation, sadness, anger, terror, despondent anguish and pain. Even perhaps a touch of pique from time to time.
I like to see the humanity of Jesus as his presence with us in all the horrors this world can throw at us, because he experienced it all in the 30 odd years in which he tabernacled among us.
Perhaps that's why we have four of them in the NT canon and not just one or two?
Or 8 or 16 or 24 ...
It's the bit in bold I'm taking exception to, though you can tell me if I've misunderstood. I knew what childbirth was all about, and I deliberately got pregnant, because I wanted a child to love. And still, at the thought of labor, I felt terror. In my experience, knowing what's all about does not change the terror factor. It may even make it worse.
I haven't discussed it with my brother, but I thought he might have been aiming for "appropriate for a solemn occasion" whilst I was aiming for "celebration of a life well-lived."
Since then I've looked at a photo of us on the beach building a sandcastle. It might have been July, but in the north of Scotland it was clearly freezing. We're wearing woolly jumpers and anoraks. I wonder if I was having the time of my life whilst my brother was suffering stoically?
If two siblings recall a close family member differently, what hope the Evangelists?
I find modem scholarship that shows them to be theological constructs for different audiences using contemporary literary conventions much more convincing.
I also see little value in setting things up as “reminiscences” vs. “theological constructs.” That seems like a false and limiting dichotomy. A number of things can be going on at the same time.
A theological understanding of events can be varied.