there is also hope, which gets you up in the morning, makes you try again; possibilities of reform, of forgiveness. Either of these senses, of sin and of grace, can be to the fore or fade out of sight from time to time, but recognizing the idea of them is enough for now. A very good way of praying is to take that text above, put it in the first person singular, ‘I’, and the present tense: you do not abandon me to the power of death.
The story is also a history. It is told, mostly, in the documents that make up the Old Testament, the first, and longer, half of the Christian Bible. On the face of it, some may think that there’s little point in having the Old Testament. If you open it at random, there is a fair chance you will find something incomprehensible or irrelevant. Some of it is downright irreligious, or even shocking; for example, the ethnic cleansing of Palestine in the name of God, described in the books of Joshua and Judges. There were quite influential movements in the first years of Christianity which said the Old Testament should be ditched. Not only was it disedifying and even scandalous in parts, but with the coming of Christ it had become, literally, history, to be replaced by the New. The main group were called Marcionites, after their leader, and they failed because they were discredited by a far bigger mistake, of which more in a moment.
But there is something reassuring about the realism of the Old Testament. It has three main sections: the history and law books, such as I Kings or Exodus; the Prophets, such as Isaiah or Jeremiah; and the ‘writings’, a miscellaneous collection including the Psalms, Proverbs and the Song of Songs. There is virtually no human aspiration, hope, virtue, failure, betrayal, emotion or drama that cannot be found in there somewhere. Early monks used to make the same claim of the Psalms alone. Once noticed, this fact is significant. There would be something odd about a religion that addressed only what is true and noble in us. Not just odd, but totally abstract, even useless. Think back to Peter, and his raw need for God. That need comes from sin, from weakness, from a damaging history. The Old Testament tells your story and mine in the form of the story and prayers of Israel.
That is as far as we have got up to now; the realization of doubt and emptiness, and the instinct that there is an alternative. Plus the not altogether comfortable hypothesis that we are loved by a God who is about to do something about all three. Here we have the full and richer purpose of the Old Testament in Christian scripture and life, expressed in the continuation of the prayer with which we began:
Father, you so loved the world that in the fullness of time you sent your only Son to be our Saviour. He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, and born of the Virgin Mary, a man like us in all things but sin. To the poor he proclaimed the good news of salvation, to prisoners freedom, and to those in sorrow, joy.
Roman Missal, Eucharistic Prayer IV
The Old Testament tells the story of the preparation in history for this event, in the calling of Israel to be the people within which a saviour for the world could be born and reared. We can read of the slow formation and revelation of religious and other traditions from which the ‘good news of salvation’ could be derived. For, if one stops to think about it, the message of salvation could not be proclaimed without actions and words. Further, words and actions need a context, a time and a place, and an audience rooted in that context to become comprehensible. They also need a context within which to become compelling.
It is vital to recall the kind of context that is meant here. It is not simply a matter of an agreed set of words, and a grammar for what they mean in combination. Here is an example to try to indicate what the ‘extra’ element is. It is from a prayer spoken by a prophet eight centuries before Christ:
With shepherd’s crook lead your people to pasture, the flock that is your heritage, living confined in a forest with meadow land all around. Let them pasture in Bashan and Gilead as in the days of old. As in the days when you came out of Egypt grant us to see wonders … Once more have pity on us, tread down our faults, to the bottom of the sea throw all our sins.
Micah 7:14–15, 19
I defy anyone with insight into themselves not to empathize with the hope of that prayer. This is the context I mean, the gradual forming of human history to expect and receive God’s response to our plight. Jesus had a simple proclamation, that in his life the time was fulfilled, and the response had begun. ‘Today these words are being fulfilled, even as you listen’ (Luke 4:21).
Watch my lips
In the course of this chapter I have left quite a few hostages of some importance. The last extract from the Fourth Eucharistic Prayer mentions the virgin birth, the Trinity and social justice, among other things. There was also a rash promise to explain the Incarnation. The latter is really quite simple in the Old Testament context. For we have here the issue of how God can give us his message. Again and again he sends prophets, and tugs at our hope; to little avail. The issue is not just historical, since the salvation history closely mirrors our everyday experience of up and down (or, even worse, just along a flat, uninspiring road). What can he do, to tell us of his love?
An image: my attempts to build a corner unit. There is a need to assemble it so that there will be supper, and also an instinct that I can assemble the thing. It looks easy, and a muddled process of sticking things together results two times out of five in an imitation of the real thing. There is a gradual process of revelation as the various bits and planks acquire a meaning and purpose that I can understand, though much remains mysterious. Then a pattern is provided to copy. So there is the humanity of Jesus, one like us in all things but sin.
Here the analogy breaks down, and we move into the realm of faith. But it is not the open credulity or frenzied legalism kind of faith. In Christ we have our pattern and model. On its own, this just makes it worse. Already we had such things in the law and the prophets, and that did not help. In Peter’s terms (see chapter 1), Jesus is still far off across a forbidding ocean of divine demand and human failure. One uniquely good man is not enough to express God’s message; so much is proved by what we did and do to that one good man and his memory. What else is needed?
In the beginning was the Word: the Word was with God, and the Word was God … All that came to be had life in him and that life is our light, a light that shines in the dark, a light that darkness could not overpower. The Word was made flesh, he lived among us, and we saw his glory, the glory that is his as the only Son of the Father, full of grace and truth … From his fullness we have, all of us, received, grace upon grace. No one has ever seen God; it is the only Son, who is nearest to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.
John 1:1, 3–5, 14, 16–18
After centuries of trying to tell us, God the Father decided to show us. Here is the incredible fact at the centre of our faith, that God himself has come to save in Christ. It is incredible on two levels. First, theology: what is the difference between Son and Father, why is the Son called ‘Word’, how are they both God, how can God become man, etc. These are all easy compared to the second level: why would God want to become one of us, hopeless, little betraying things? What a risk, and what a failure, because we did and do not receive him, but slay him on the Cross and in ourselves and each other. Why? We already have the answer, but it is almost too deeply threatening.
God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not be lost but may have eternal life. For God sent his Son into the world not to condemn the world, but so that through him the world might be saved.
John 3:16–17
The Incarnation cannot be explained, because it is wholly gratuitous. There is no reason on earth for it, apart from you. But we can understand a little what it implies. Remember the Marcionites? Their key fault was to be associated with a group which could not accept that the Word had become
