Symbols of Christianity

I was recently asked to explore various symbols related to the Christian faith. I have thought about how to share these brief notes. I decided to piece them together here for your consideration. Christians respond diversely to symbols. I am using this word as an action or icon that invites reflection on Jesus and the Christian faith.

There are creedal statements like the Old Roman Symbol (c. 215) called “symbol,” of sample of it reads:

I believe in God, the Father almighty.  And in Christ Jesus, his only Son, our Lord,  who was born of the Holy Spirit of the virgin Mary,  who was crucified under Pontius Pilate and was buried,  the third day he rose from the dead.  He ascended into heaven,  is seated at the right hand of the Father.  From there he will come to judge the living and the dead.1

The following symbols have confessional value but they are not as direct as “I believe…” statements.

The Marks of Jesus

Injuries caused by persecution have a way of telling the story of our faith in Jesus. Paul wrote Galatians about a couple of years before AD 50 to Christians entangled in a crisis over the nature of the true Gospel message, likely just before the so-called Jerusalem Council (Acts 15).

Some had clearly been subject to the quick work of certain false teachers imposing a strong retention of Judaistic practices as essential to the faith. Paul dispatches Galatians to undo the corrupting influence of this false gospel by outlining that justification by faith in Christ was the essence of the Law, and always intended to transcend and consummate the Law. This was accomplished on the basis of the promises granted to Abraham, made operative by faith in Christ which is entered into at baptism (Gal 2:15-5:1). This new life in the Spirit provides the rule of life for the Christian (Gal 5:2-16). At the close of this letter, the apostle signs off with what appears to be words of exhaustion:

From now on let no one cause me trouble, for I bear on my body the marks of Jesus. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers. Amen. (Galatians 6:17-18 English Standard Version2)

What is remarkable is that the apostle could claim that he wore on his body “the marks of Jesus” so early in his ministry. Let me unpack this briefly. These marks (stigmata) that Paul bears (bastadzo) on his body are likely scars.3

According to Acts, during Paul’s traditional “first” mission there is one explicit case of physical violence for this early claim (Acts 13-14). There was persecution in which Paul and Barnabas were driven out of Antioch (Acts 13:50). Early in their work in Iconium, mistreatment and stoning were attempted on them by Gentiles and Jews (Acts 14:5). Later, Jews arrived in Iconium from Antioch and stoned Paul, and then they dragged his body out of the city “supposing he was dead” (Acts 14:19). He must have looked convincingly dead-or was-from the stoning when he rose up and continued his mission (Acts 14:20).

So when Paul wrote “I bear on my body the marks [scars] of Jesus” he could literally point to the scars on his body as witnesses of persecution for his service to Jesus. This would only be the beginning of his sufferings, as the Lord Jesus explains that Paul’s calling as a chosen instrument will be accompanied by suffering: “For I will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name” (Acts 9:16). Paul words point to that our injuries experienced in the line of Christian duty tell the story of Jesus, his own suffering on the cross, and our faith in him as our resurrected Lord.

The Cross of Christ

In the Third Servile War (73-71 BC), rebel slaves led by Spartacus lost the war, and of the survivors all six thousand seditious slaves were crucified by General Marcus Licinius Crassus (115-53 BC) along the Appian Way in Italy. There is an irony that the symbol of the Christian faith was the Roman tool to end insurrectionists. It was a symbol of Roman power as they executed enemies of the state in one of the most humiliating public displays of power disparity.

For the executed it was a clear failure of their insurrection, as the impotence of their cause is placed on full display. Crucifixion was to execute and embarrass its victim and to announce the futility of the movement to all its followers and all who would attempt to pick up its torch. Clearly, the Jewish opponents among the leadership in Jerusalem desired to not only execute Jesus but also quell his messianic movement as others before him.

Even in the biblical text, execution by hanging was a shame and a curse:

And if a man has committed a crime punishable by death and he is put to death, and you hang him on a tree, his body shall not remain all night on the tree, but you shall bury him the same day, for a hanged man is cursed by God. You shall not defile your land that the Lord your God is giving you for an inheritance. (Deuteronomy 21:22-23)

It is remarkable that this text is equated with the shame of the cross of Christ. In Galatians, Paul writes, “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us—for it is written, ‘Cursed is everyone who is hanged on a tree’ ” (Gal 3:13). Peter and the apostles affirmed to the Jewish council that “the God of our fathers raised Jesus, whom you killed by hanging him on a tree” (Acts 5:30). Clearly, the redemptive outcome from the crucifixion of Christ transformed the value of the cross of Christ, and this is seen in Paul’s declaration to the Corinthians: “For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor 2:2). The cross means the humiliation of Christ, but it also means our redemption by Christ’s substitutionary death. It is to be the source of our boasting, “by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world” (Gal 6:14).

There is ample evidence that Christian persecution began early in the first century, most of it was sporadic rather than systemic. One curious example comes from an anonymous ancient antagonist who carved his aggression against a certain Christian named Alexamenos. This late second century, or early third century, carving is known as the Alexamenos Graffito, and it portrays a crucified man with the head of either a donkey or a horse and wrote around it:

ALEXAMENOS WORSHIPS [HIS?] GOD.4

Even when Christians were publicly shamed in graffiti, Christianity is represented by their “crucified god.” This type of ridicule from the public nevertheless shows a clear connection between the cross and the Christian Way and an early understanding of the divinity of Jesus.

It is possible that the Crucifix (the image of Jesus on the cross) as such emerged around the sixth century as a symbol of Christianity. The cross, however, has been forever paired with the proclamation of the gospel. Today it is in hospitals, as “the hospital” was invented by Christians who opened homes to care for the sick as early as the fourth century. The Red Cross as a benevolent organization uses the symbol of the cross as a symbol of compassion and concern, key beliefs of the Christian faith.

The Jesus Fish <><

The creativity of the ancient Christians is remarkable. Every now and then something of this ancient creativity finds its way back into the hands of the faithful. During the turbulent times of the 60’s and 70’s the fish symbol re-emerged as a cultural symbol of the Christian faith. But how did the fish symbol come to be used by ancient Christians?

One tradition says it goes back to times of persecution. When Christians would travel and find themselves in the company of strangers, they would draw on the ground an outline of a fish to see if they were among fellow believers.5 It was a symbol that veiled a hidden message: “I believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, the Savior.” The Greek word for fish (ichthus) had become an acronym for the above creedal statement.

Let’s unpack this a little more. Using our English letters to phonetically represent the Greek letters in the fish (ichthus) acronym, we have:

 i (iota) = Iesous (Jesus)
ch (chai) = Christos (Christ)
th (theta) = theos (God)
u (upsilon) = huios (son)
s (sigma) = Soter (savior)

Literally, it translates to: “Jesus Christ God Son Savior.” Sometimes it was drawn as a fish and other times as a circle with many lines like a pizza.

Note: Image taken from LeaderGuideBibleStudies.com

Today, the Jesus fish is a widely recognizable cultural icon of the Christian faith. It is no longer the hidden message it once was. Friend and foe know it as part of the Christian “branding.” Evolutionists, atheistic skeptics, and ufologists have even made their own mocking versions. Nevertheless, the Jesus fish is an ancient Christian symbol affirming our faith claim that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, the Savior.

Walking After His Pattern

The best image of Christ anyone will meet is the Christian who follows after the example of Jesus in the way they live their life and love their neighbor. In Peter’s letter, the apostle invites us to a life of deep commitment with the following words:

For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps. (1 Peter 2:21)

The Christians Peter is writing to are experiencing a variety of tensions in their lives with neighbors in their community challenging them, criticizing them, and perhaps even forcing them into public legal situations where they must defend themselves and their new way of life.

Here, Peter calls on the imagery of children learning to write their letters by using a stencil to copy the letters until they can write the letters on their own. In the word “example” (hupogrammon) is found this ancient practice of children learning how to write their letters.6 Jesus is our template, our model, our tracing paper as we learn how to live a life as a servant of Christ.

In this section of his letter (1 Pet 2:21-25), Peter quotes and alludes to the suffering servant passage of Isaiah 53 as describing and outlining how Jesus endured rejection and suffering even to the point of the cross. How Jesus faced the cross, Peter argues, is how Christians ought to face the challenges of the world they live in. In short, his willingness to suffer on the cross becomes our paradigm/model for living. Scot McKnight puts a helpful perspective on this text:

Here is an early Christian interpretation of Christ’s life that is, at the same time, an exercise in the explanation of the essence of the Christian life. This little section, in other words, is a glimpse into a Christian worldview of the first century—a world not at all like our world because of the predominance of suffering in the early church, but a worldview that retains its significance for Christian living.7

Scot McKnight, 1 Peter, NIVAC

As the reasons for being a Christian drift towards matters of “to be better,” “to help others,” “to find community… a family…,” or something one could obtain from a support group or self-help book, the nagging truth of Christian discipleship formed by the paradigm of Jesus and his suffering on the cross for our redemption, the church may never come to realize its primitive spirit of sacrificial consecration prepared to do likewise as the sacrificial sheep of God.

The Christian is redeemed by the suffering Christ, and it is an essential part of the Christian life to endure suffering as we serve the Christ of the gospel we proclaim and live by.

What Symbols Do You Bear?

I hope these short reflections will help you think about how we think about Jesus in our life of faith. Are we marked by sorrow, pain, or harm from following Jesus? If not pray for others who have. Perhaps you have other ways to speak of your faith. Do you glory in his cross? Do you focus on the work of Christ on the cross and what that means for the work of Christ happening in your heart? Take time to meditate on this truth.

Our symbols may need some unpacking, like the Jesus Fish, but perhaps instead of looking at it as a “cheesey” Christian pop icon, you may see it as a meaningful symbol born from persecution for simply being a Christian. Nevertheless, the only symbol of Christ that truly touches the hearts of men is that of a Christian walking in the steps of his suffering servant Jesus.

May God bless you.

Endnotes

  1. Old Roman Symbol. ↩︎
  2. All Scripture quotations are taken from the English Standard Version (Wheaton, IL: Crossway). ↩︎
  3. J. Louis Martyn, Galatians: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, AYB 33A (New Haven, CT: Yale, 1974), 56. ↩︎
  4. Jen Rost suggests a broader window of c. 83 to the third century, “Alexamenos Graffito,” worldhistory.org ↩︎
  5. Elesha Coffman, “What is the Origin of the Christian Fish Symbol?,” Christianity Today (8 Aug 2008) ↩︎
  6. John H. Bennetch, “Exegetical Studies in 1 Peter,” BSac 99 (1942), 346. ↩︎
  7. Scot McKnight, 1 Peter, NIVAC (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1996), 168. ↩︎

The Humanity of Jesus the Son

The phrases Jesus Christ, the Christ of faith, the Jesus of history, and Jesus the Divine Son all reflect significant themes pertaining to the central figure of the New Testament, Jesus of Nazareth. These concepts fall within a specialized area of theology known as Christology, which is a systematic “study of Christ” based on the full biblical picture derived from scripture.

A bit more formally, this field of study speaks to the Christian endeavor to map Jesus’ placement within “time and eternity, humanity and divinity, particularity and universality.” It answers how the life of a seemingly benign first-century Jewish rabbi could be so “relevant for all people and all times” (McGrath 2017, 207).

The present discussion maps Jesus’ Son-relationship in the triune unity of God, and the nature of his humanity. It then reflects on how the humanity of Jesus is relevant to the Christian’s personal walk before God.

Jesus the Son and the Trinity

The Trinitarian Formula

The divinity of Jesus is established in many passages of the New Testament. For example, Matthew closes with an appearance of Jesus where he affirms his authority “in heaven and on earth.” With this authority, he commissions his disciples for an international burden,

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (28:18–19 NRSV). [All Scripture references are from the New Revised Standard Version unless otherwise noted.]

Three themes are clear in this passage: Jesus’ divine authority, discipleship made in baptism, and the trinitarian language of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. In the early generations of the church, the above trinitarian formula would represent a highly nuanced concept of monotheism affirmed to be in continuity with the “one God” of the Hebrew Bible.

What forced early Jewish Christians to accept this nuanced view of monotheism? The answer: the character and nature of Jesus did. It is not subversive of the “oneness” of God (Deut 6:4) but depends on the New Testament’s clarification that the “one God” is not a simplistic model. As the clarification argues, the Divine Son is not God the Father, nor is he the Holy Spirit. This raises tough questions that the historical church has discussed in earnest and in conflict for generations.

How do we map this out theologically?

The Divine Son Portrayed

We turn to the presence of Jesus and how He is portrayed in relation to the Father and the Holy Spirit.

In the first century, the prologue to the Fourth Gospel (John 1:1–3, 14) affirms that the person and nature of Jesus is the driving force to reshape the whole biblical landscape of the concept of God (Gen 1:1; Exod 20:11).

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being... And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. (John 1:1–3a, 14) 

Jesus not only pre-existed as the lógos at the time of creation (John 1:1), but he also “emptied” (ekénōsen) himself to take on the “form [morphē] of a slave”—a human (Phil 2:6–7). Leaning heavily on John 1:14, the Alexandrian theologian, Athanasius, concluded that this “human body” was taken by this same “Word of God” (Placher 2003, 184).

On this view, there was no room within this theology for Arius’ affirmation that Jesus the Son—the Word—was a created being who subsequently became divine. This view reduced Jesus to a creature impotent to redeem humanity (McGrath 2017, 217–19).

The Divine Association

As McGrath (2017, 214) chronicles, the divinity of Christ was one of the first major theological battles of the early church as it sought to hammer out its understanding of the contours of a very genuine human being in Jesus who, at the same time, was portrayed as being more than a mere human. The “battle” was not over the deity of Christ as such (that was established), but how to understand the relationship between his humanity and his divinity.

The divinity of Jesus was therefore accepted as true as his humanity—as affirmed in Chalcedon (AD 451)—which means that the question left to map out was the relationship between Jesus and the Father and the Holy Spirit.

The only way to do this is by evaluating Scripture (Jenson 2003, 194). Despite certain reservations, Jenson argues clearly that Peter’s application of the divine title “Lord” from Joel 2 (kyrios LXX) to Jesus in Acts 2:33–34 (kyrios) demonstrates that

the risen Christ, without violation of God’s singularity, does what only the God of Israel himself does, and that he does this precisely by virtue of his situation with the God of Israel. (2003, 194)

Jensen in Essentials of Christian Theology (2003)

Jensen points out that the emerging notion of association that comes from the word “with” points to the “inescapably observable fact” that the biblical narrative is framed by three divine characters in its drama (2003, 195): the God of Israel, Jesus his Son, and the life-giving Spirit of God.

Agreeing with Jenson (2003, 196), Jesus should not be viewed as a mere successive mode of God’s presence in time (modalism) or as the Father’s subordinate agent with the Spirit in time (subordinationism). Instead, Jesus maintains an eternally mutual and reciprocal relationship with the Father and the Spirit. For this reason, ancient Christians used an analogy inspired by the theater, that is to say, that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit although three in persona (mask) are one in Divine substance. Another model is found in Martin Buber’s I-You relationship model (McGrath 2017,179–80).

Understanding the Humanity of Jesus

What, then, goes into mapping this theological tension of the Son and the Trinity?

Mapping the nature of Jesus’ humanity—in balance with his divinity—requires great caution. The traditional doctrine of the incarnation (literally, “becoming bodily”) affirms both the full humanity of Jesus and his divinity. Any attempt to isolate what is organically interwoven in the person and work of Jesus runs a high risk of distortion.

Overcompensating to account for the humanity of Jesus has typically been met with the “stamp” of heresy. Three, in particular, are Ebionism, Arianism, and Docetism (McGrath 2017, 214–20). 

The roots of Ebionism are Jewish. It framed Jesus through the lenses of a human prophet, as called and anointed by the Holy Spirit. As a low Christology, Jesus is only a “spiritually superior” human. This does not align with the picture of his eternal pre-existence as Creator.

Plotted on another point on the map is Arianism (named after Arius), which called into question the “fully divine” and “fully human” affirmation due to an irreconcilable application of the Greek notion of divine impassability and the doctrine of the incarnation. God cannot be both changeable (fully human) and transcendent (fully divine), therefore, the incarnation strikes at the perfect nature of the one God. Jesus must therefore be a “superior created being” with nothing divine to report. This failed to account for the actual testimony of the gospels where in fact this is possible.

Meanwhile, Docetism affirmed, with its hardline separation of God and the present evil world of matter (due to its gnostic foundation), the divine incarnation of John 1:14 was nothing more than “pretend.” The heresy’s name (or tendency) is derived from the Greek word dokéō (“to seem”) affirming Jesus only “seemed” to have a body in which he suffered and died, making the incarnation “into a fake” (Placher 2003, 183). Scripturally, the work of Christ is dependent on the fully human (Luke 24:38–39) and fully divine Jesus manifested in the death of the cross and resurrection from the dead (Rom 1:3–4).

Similarly, the opening line of 1 John affirms the humanity of the “Word of Life”: “what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands” (1:1).

Likewise, in the second century CE, Ignatius of Antioch (ca. 35–ca. 110) stressed his concern to the Christians of Trallia that they should guard against (“be deaf,” kōphóthēte 9.1) anything which undermines the humanity of Christ with the following words:

Jesus Christ, who was of the family of David, who was the son of Mary; who really was born, who both ate and drank; who really was persecuted under Pontius Pilate, who really was crucified and died while those in heaven and on earth and under the earth look on; who, moreover, really was raised from the dead when his Father raised him up, who—his Father, that is—in the same way will likewise also raise us up in Christ Jesus who believe in him, apart from whom we have no true life. (“To the Trallians” 9.1–2)

Ignatius of Antioch, “To the Trallians” 9.1-2

The example of Ignatius is interesting because it is early and strongly affirms Jesus’ human form, “who really” (hos alethōs) an adverb repeated four times to assert what is true, actual because it corresponds to what is really so (BDAG 44). For Ignatius, Jesus actually was born, ate and drank, persecuted, crucified and died, and raised from the dead. Ignatius saw denying the humanity of Christ as subversive to the soteriological (the saving, redeeming) and eschatological (end times, fulfilling) work of Christ.

What Does This Mean?

What then does it mean for the Christian that God became flesh to redeem us in the person of Jesus Christ? Two extremes must be cautioned against here. One extreme is to moralize the life of Jesus (1 Pet 2:21), and as such reduces Jesus to a mere good teacher. Another extreme is to make Jesus’ life and teaching into a disjointed symbolic presence of God (i.e., Paul Tillich).

The humanity of Jesus provides me with a great deal of assurance as a believer that God knows through Christ the human plight. Jesus has “assumed all” and can, therefore “heal all” of humanity (Placher 2003, 184). When the “name” Immanuel (“God is with us”) is given to Jesus (Matt 1:23) the associated promise is that “he will save his people from their sins (Matt 1:21). God’s presence in the human child to be born provides a personal locus that can be isolated to time, space, and history.

For all humans, it then becomes quite clear that God is joining the human continuum to reconcile not only “us” but also “the world to himself” in Christ (2 Cor 5:18–19). Paul’s application has massive personal repercussions,

“if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” (5:17) 

The humanity of Jesus is not simply a modal expression of God, but God entering into time and space to save, forgive, reconcile, and renew humanity and creation.

It provides the seedbed to take the particular localized Jesus and affirm his enduring value for all humans for all time. As Ignatius wrote, God “will likewise also raise us up in Christ Jesus who believe in him, apart from whom we have no true life” (“To the Trallians” 9.2).

Truly, the humanity of the God-Man Jesus is relevant for the Christian’s personal walk before God because it is the seedbed for all our hopes, especially, hope for the resurrection (1 Cor 15:12–19).

Bibliography

(BDAG) Bauer, Walter, Frederick W. Danker, W. F. Ardnt, and F. W. Gingrich. 2000. A Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature. 3rd edition. Chicago: University of Chicago.

Ignatius. 1999. “The Letters of Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch.” Pages 128–201 in The Apostolic Fathers: Greek Texts and English Translations. 2d edition. Edited and revised by Michael W. Holmes. Grand Rapids: Baker Books.

Jenson, Robert W. 2003. “Does Jesus Make a Difference? The Person and Work of Jesus Christ” Pages 191–205 in Essentials of Christian Theology. Edited by William C. Placher. Louisville, Kent: Westminster John Knox.

McGrath, Alister E. 2017. Christian Theology: An Introduction. 6th edition. Maldon, Ma: Wiley Blackwell.

Placher, William C. 2003. “Does Jesus Make a Difference? The Person and Work of Jesus Christ” Pages 183–91 in Essentials of Christian Theology. Edited by William C. Placher. Louisville, Kent: Westminster John Knox.