The Foundation of Christian Humanism

If you’ve been following this series, you realize by now we are knee-deep in a discussion on Christian humanism.

If you haven’t been following the series, you can catch up on the conversation by starting here.

Christian humanism is the belief that human freedom, individual conscience, and unencumbered rational inquiry are compatible with the practice of Christianity or even intrinsic in its doctrine. It represents a philosophical union of Christian faith and classical humanist principles.

In this post, I want to investigate the roots of the kind of Christian humanism I believe we need to recover in the West if we are ever going to see its cultural fractures mended.

The Incarnation of Christ, being a complete union of his divine and human natures, informs the very essence of the vision of Christian humanism—divinity came down to humanity and united with it to the end that fallen humans could be redeemed to live out their best lives to the glory of God.

To explain this truth to the church, the Apostle John borrowed language from Greek philosophy, and wrote in his gospel, “Καὶ ὁ λόγος σὰρξ ἐγένετο (And the Word became flesh).

The Greek word λόγος has a broad spectrum of meaning, but essentially means “a communication whereby the mind finds expression.”

In Platonic thought, the divine or perfect λόγος exists “above the line” in the heavens, often referred to as the realm of the Forms. All truth, reason, or argument on earth is an imperfect imitation (μίμησης) of that which exists eternally above the line.

John’s proclamation is that the Word was God, the Creator of the universe, and was embodied in the person of Jesus from Nazareth, who was called the Christ. The fact that perfect λόγος, or Word, became embodied on earth, and in human flesh, nonetheless, was an astounding concept to the Hellenistic mind—to both Jew and Greek.

This embodiment of divinity not only sets in proper tension the perennial human paradoxes of life, like reconciling justice and mercy, faith and reason, physical and metaphysical, John’s pronouncement of it employs the concept of using the “splintered light” of pagan ideas and literature to serve the Christian message.

Second, not only does the Incarnation inform the very essence of the vision of Christian humanism, its telos is rooted in the teachings of Christ as well.

The essence of these teachings can be summed up in Jesus’s answer to the lawyer who sought to test him by asking him what were the greatest commandments:

And he said to him, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments depend all the Law and the Prophets.

Matthew’s record reveals the primary focus of Jesus’s teaching to be twofold: man’s relationship with the Creator and man’s relationship with others. In both relationships, the preeminent motivation is love.

The Greek word Jesus uses is more specific than the generic receptor most often used in English translation. In English, love has a variety of nuances and can be directed at objects differing greatly in value.

Americans, for example, tend to love pizza, love their job, and love their family. Family and pizza, of course, are without comparison in value, yet both are objects that appear to be acted on equally by the same verb, loved.  

The word Jesus used is ἀγαπάω, and means to have a warm regard for, or interest in, another: to cherish, have affection for, love. It would be unreasonable for a person to have a cherished interest in, or affection for, pizza, but quite expected in regard to one’s family. This is because the ἀγαπάω kind of love is not rooted in emotion, but in covenant. It is a covenant love one has for God and man that anticipates the benevolent fulfillment of a duty owed to each—worship owed to God (Romans 12:1-2) and care owed to fellow man (Romans 13:8).

Jesus’s story of the good Samaritan is generally seen as the quintessential example of this idea of love, which essentially informs Christian humanism.

Additionally, Jesus taught that ἀγαπάω love extends beyond showing benevolence only to those neighbors who are friendly to us, or those neighbors who are in need, but he extends it to included those who are enemies.

In his famous Sermon on the Mount, Jesus taught,

You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

The one aspect that both a neighbor and an enemy has in common is his humanity. And it is on the basis of their being human that Jesus taught his followers to love both neighbor and enemy in the same manner the Father loves the evil and the good alike.

God freely gives sun and rain—the elements necessary for growing food and symbolic for human flourishing—to both. Throughout his earthly ministry, Jesus affirmed his teaching about love by his works: by feeding the hungry,  caring for the needy, and even performing miracles to heal the sick and diseased.

He ordered his entire life by this message. The ultimate affirmation of his love message, however, was a personal demonstration that lead him to be crucified on a cross by his enemies for the ultimate good of humanity, eternal redemption.

To clarify, this does not suggest in any way, like those previously mentioned who have deceptively taken the name Christian humanist, that Christ is merely a good teacher and an example to humanity of how to live in this world.

There is no denying he is an example in this way—and arguably the greatest example of what it means to be human—but the kind of Christian humanism this paper seeks to recover recognizes Christ is, first and foremost, Savior and Lord of all creation. He is an example of what it is like to be human, second. Recognizing the importance of this order in Christian Humanism, theologian and humanist, J. Gresham Machen, wrote,

The trouble with the paganism of ancient Greece, as with the paganism of modern times, was not in the superstructure, which was glorious, but in the foundation, which was rotten. There was always something to be covered up; the enthusiasm of the architect was maintained only by ignoring the disturbing fact of sin. In Christianity, on the other hand, nothing needs to be covered up. The fact of sin is faced squarely once for all, and is dealt with by the grace of God. But then, after sin has been removed by the grace of God, the Christian can proceed to develop joyously every faculty that God has given him. Such is the higher Christian humanism—a humanism founded not upon human pride but upon divine grace.

That said, these two aspects are not as distinct as the analysis of their priority tends to make them sound, either. It is not an either/or concept, but a both/and concept. They operate in tandem for the accomplishment of a single goal. They are two sides of the same coin, so to speak.

Jesus preached: repent, for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand! He commands repentance from the old nature in order to receive the kingdom of Heaven on earth. As Machen so aptly noted, it is in the context of redemptive grace that humanity is able to flourish.

Finally, not only does the Incarnation inform the vision of Christian humanism and root its telos in the teachings of Christ, its import in history gives renewed merit to pagan Classicism.

By beginning the historical inquiry at the Incarnation of Christ rather than some earlier point of development in the Greco-Roman civilization, the assumption is being made that the Incarnation/Resurrection of Jesus is the central pivot point in the development of Western Civilization.

This means, ultimately, there could be no such thing as Christian humanism without the historical person of Jesus Christ.

While paganism had some virtues, enough that many Christians have wondered at the possibility of some virtuous pagans obtaining redemption in a way foreign to repentance in the Christian understanding, it repeatedly demonstrated its inability to transcend the boundaries of human reason.

Therefore, any form of art and culture prior to Christ would necessarily be incomplete, continually reaching for something man could not achieve by himself, and always falling short. What virtuous pagans did do for human flourishing, however, was offer the world optimistic anticipation, meaning it often knew the right questions to ask, though it could seldom provide satisfactory answers.

Prior to the Incarnation of Christ, the Greco-Roman world was feeling its way toward truth, goodness, and beauty, but it could not attain it. And though they could not attain it, they prepared the way to it by raising questions that only something so profound as the Incarnation could answer.

That said, it does not mean “humanistic” pursuits prior to or outside of Christ are meaningless. By no means. Rather, it means literature, art, philosophy, etc. were finally provided a place to find their value—in the redemptive work of Christ.

Essentially, because Christ came to humanity, many pagan works have renewed and transcendent merit. And though they still may not always provide solutions to the perennial human questions, they do delight the mind, stimulate the imagination, and function for the rest of the world analogous to the way the Mosaic Law functioned for the Jews—they teach people to anticipate Christ.

Because Christ came to humanity, humanism now has real imaginative power.

In a subsequent post, I intend to continue exploring the history and development of Christian humanism. Be sure to subscribe if you’d like to stay up with this series.