Shrugging Before the Manger

The problem many of us have with Christmas isn’t that we expect too much of it but that we expect much too little

Shrugging Before the Manger

THE HUMANITY OF CHRIST: Contributions to a Psychology of Jesus by Romano Guardini - Chapter I, Section 2

2. THE KIND OF LIFE




In this environment is set the figure of Jesus; here he lived out his life.



His ancestry is traced back to the ancient royal family, both in the

genealogies and in isolated remarks (Mat. 1. 1 ff.; Luke 3. 23 ff)- This

royal line had now lost all its power, possessions and significance, so

that this late descendant lived in complete obscurity.



He grew up, not in true poverty, but in humble circumstances nevertheless,

in the house of a simple craftsman--a carpenter- Jesus general behavior

bears witness to the fact that he was accustomed to great simplicity,

though we must not forget that he feels quite at ease among well-to-do

people, and shows, for example, what he thought of the behavior of Simon

the Pharisee, who had invited him but did not think it necessary to extend

him the least token of hospitality (Luke 7. 44 ff).



We do not hear of his having had any special intellectual training. The

puzzlement expressed on several occasions over where he got his knowledge

of the Scriptures and his wisdom shows that he cannot have had any formal

education (Mat. 13. 54; Mark 1. 22; Luke 2. 47; John7. 15).



Jesus' way of life is that of an itinerant religious teacher. He goes from

place to place as outward occasion--a festival pilgrimage or spiritual

necessity--his "hour"--demands. He often stays in one place for quite some

time, visiting the surrounding district and then coming back to it again.

Thus, for example, at the start of his ministry, at Capharnaum (Mat. 8. 5

and 9. 35), or at its end, in Bethany (Mat. 21. 17--18; 26. 6). This

pattern of life derived from the nature of his mission, not from a personal

wanderlust. We can deduce this from the answer he made to the scribe who

said he would follow him: "Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have

nests: but the Son of man has nowhere to lay his head" (Mat. 8. 20). From

his audience he gathered around himself a band of the more receptive whom

he instructed in the deeper meaning of his message. From among these,

again, he made another selection of the Twelve. The importance of this

selection is underscored by the fact that the chosen are mentioned by name

(Mark 3. 14 ff. et par.); and it is also recorded that he spent the

previous night in prayer (Luke 6. 12).



The small inner circle, called "the Twelve" for short (Luke 8. 1, etc.),

are especially close to him. We may recall the intimate bond which existed

in ancient times between the philosopher or religious teacher and his

disciples. The Twelve are always about him. Wherever he is invited, they go

too. He shares food and lodging with them. After he has spoken they cluster

around inquiring into the meaning of what he has said. And he tells them

expressly that all is made clear to them, whereas the multitude will have

to be content with parables (Mat. 13. 11 ff.). He sends them out to test

their strength; he tells them what to preach, what to take with them, and

how to conduct themselves on their journey; and he gives them power to

perform signs. On their return he calls for their report, and the whole

scene reveals how deeply he was involved in their activities (Mark 6. 7-13,

30-l; and cf. Mat. 10-11. 6, 25-9; Luke 10. 1-22).



Within the band of the Twelve there is a more select group still,

consisting of the Three: Peter, James and John. They are present on all

important occasions, such as the raising of Jairus' daughter, the

transfiguration on the mountain, and at Gethsemane (Mark 5. 37; 9. 2; 14.

33). There was a specially close link between John and his Master, so close

in fact that he was able to describe himself as the disciple "whom Jesus

loved" (John 3. 23; 19. 26).



A number of women can be discerned within the wider circle of disciples.

They are those whom he has helped in bodily or spiritual ills, or who have

attached themselves to him for religious reasons (Mat. 27. 55-6; Mark 16.

1; Luke 8. 1-2). Some are well-to-do and look after his material needs.



St. John's remark that one of the Twelve, Judas Iscariot, kept the common

purse (John 12. 6), answers the question: What did Jesus and his companions

live on? Each member of the group no doubt contributed something to the

common upkeep; but in addition those who were impressed by the Master's

message helped out as well. We learn, too, that alms were dispensed from

the common purse (John 13. 29).



Besides this we learn that Jesus had friends with whom he could stay.

Considering his manner of life and the highly developed hospitality of the

East, this was only natural. He had especially close ties with the

household of Lazarus, Martha and Mary of Bethany (Luke 10. 38 ff.; John

11).



A characteristic element in Jesus' circle is constituted by the "publicans

and sinners", people ostracized by the accepted standards of society

because of their way of life. With him, however, they find understanding

and love, and they, in turn, are especially devoted to him. His association

with them, however, caused the shadow of suspicion to fall on him in the

eyes of the devotees of the Law and of respectable citizens (Mat. 9. 9 ff.;

11. 19; 21. 31; etc.).



We now approach the question: What attitude did the various strata of

society and groups in the land adopt towards him?



It was the common people who from the first responded enthusiastically to

his person and his message. They could see that he did not speak "like

their scribes"--formally, technically, incomprehensibly--but with vitality,

from observation and experience; not theoretically, but "as one having

power", so that they felt the dynamic power of his words and the mysterious

Reality which lay behind the words (Mat. 7. 28-9; Luke 4. 32). They sensed

also that his attitude to them was different from that of the members of

the influential classes. In the eyes of the Sadducees, they were just a

rabble; to the Pharisees, they were the despised masses who "do not know

the Law" (John 7. 49). By contrast, the attitude of Jesus made them feel

that his concern for them was genuine. Words like those of the Beatitudes

in the Sermon on the Mount have a primarily religious meaning. But they

were in marked contrast to the standards of the wealthy, the powerful and

the educated, and were therefore interpreted by the people as signs of

sympathy for the distressed, the oppressed and the ignorant. This feeling

was strengthened by the fact that Jesus was always ready to help the poor,

the suffering and the outcast. Sayings like "Come to me, all who labor and

are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest" (Mat. 11. 28) have reference

first of all to his Messianic mission, but they also express his boundless

readiness and power to be of service.



On the other hand, Jesus is no popular hero in the narrow sense of the

word; certainly not in any sense of his being a champion of the lowly and

simple against the wealthy and the educated. Certain sayings which seem to

suggest this (Luke 6. 24 ff.; 16. 19 ff; Mat. 19. 23 ff.) in reality have

nothing to do with social attitudes of this kind; still less do they imply

any tactics of rousing the people against their rulers. In the same way,

his relationship with the "publicans and sinners" does not mean that he is

in revolt against law and morality, or that he favors moral decadence. His

championing of the outcast is stressed because no one had ever done such a

thing before. The reason for it lay not in any inner fellow-feeling but in

the fact that "they that are in health, need not a physician, but they that

are ill" (Mat. 9. 12), and because they, too, are "sons of Abraham" (Luke

19. 9). Jesus is moved by the spirit of One who knows that he is sent to

every man, regardless of his condition. But once this has been made clear,

it must also be admitted that Jesus has a special tenderness for the poor

and the outcast. This flowed from the ultimate purpose behind his entire

mission, which was to upset all systems based on the standards of the

world, in order to proclaim the unknown God and his kingdom. The poor, the

suffering, the outcast are, through their very existence, forces of

discharge capable of shattering the established order.



Furthermore, he did not allow the people to draw too close to him, and

withdrew when the approaches were too pressing. He knew that the religious

motives which inspired such enthusiasm could be confused, shallow and

earthly, and that they might cause his message, especially his message

concerning the Kingdom of God and redemption, to be seen in a false light

(John 2. 23 ff; 6. 15ff.).



Among the ruling classes, the Pharisees, who were in closest touch with

public life and all its manifestations, paid immediate attention to him. At

once they became suspicious and began to work against him. They sensed the

thoroughgoing contrast between him and them in spirit and mentality, and in

their attitudes towards God and man. He himself often treated them openly

as adversaries. This is obvious everywhere, especially in the famous

invectives (Mat. 12. 22 ff.; 15. 1 ff.; 22. 15 ff.; 23. 13 ff.; etc.). Yet,

his struggle with them was not one of uncompromising opposition. He

recognized their function (Mat. 23. 1-3), appeared before them too as their

Messiah, and, whenever they showed a glimmer of understanding the truth,

received them (John 3. 1 ff.).



For a long time the Sadducees took no notice of him. Only at the every end,

when a crisis was imminent, did they become sufficiently disturbed to join

forces briefly with their former despised enemies in a common action

against him (Mat. 22. 23 ff.; Acts 4. 1; 5. 17 ff.).



We read that Herod had heard of the new teacher and taken an interest in

him (Luke 9. 7-9)--besides, he always had shown his interest in anything to

do with religion, e.g. in his dealings with John the Baptist (Mark 6. 20

ff.). Then he became suspicious and Jesus was informed of his intention to

kill him, whereupon Jesus indicated clearly enough what he thought of him

when he called him "this fox" (Luke 13. 31 ff.). Jesus did not come into

personal contact with him until the trial, and then the meeting went badly

enough (Luke 23. 6 ff.)



At first the Roman governor was completely unaware of his existence. He,

too, was first forced to concern himself with Jesus at his trial. John,

with his customary eye for involved human detail, has given us an

impressive account of their meeting (18. 28 ff.).



We still have to emphasize the peculiar sympathy which Jesus showed for

pagans. This was made clear, for example, when he met the Roman centurion

or the Syro-Phoenician woman (Mat. 8. 5 ff.; Mark 7. 24 ff.); likewise, in

what he had to say on Tyre, Sidon and Sodom (Mat. 11. 20 ff.). Even his

behavior towards Pilate has a frankness unspoiled by any kind of prejudice.



The same is true of his attitude towards the half-pagan Samaritans--as

indicated by his parable of the man who fell among thieves, or his story of

the ten lepers (Luke 10. 30 ff.; 17. 11 ff.), or his reprimand to the two

disciples who wanted to call down the vengeance of heaven upon the

inhabitants of a village of Samaria because they would not give hospitality

to the travelers. As this last instance shows, he certainly did not intend

to reject the Samaritans (Luke 9. 51 ff.).



Something must now be said about his personal habits.



He had no fixed teaching center either near the temple or in a rabbinical

school, but moved about from place to place. We have already noted that

this way of life was not a manifestation of wanderlust. The instructions he

gave the disciples he sent out may safely be taken to reflect, with certain

limitations, the kind of life he himself led and the experiences he had

gained by it (Mat. 10. 5 ff.). He taught wherever opportunity arose--in the

synagogues, where, moreover, every adult Jew had a right to speak (Mat. 4.

23, etc.); in the porticos and courts of the temple (Mat. 21. 21 ff.; 21.

21-24. 1); in market-place and street (Mat. 9. 9 ff.); in houses (Mark 7.

17); at the well where people came to draw water (John 4. 5 ff.); by the

seashore (Mark 3. 9); on hill-slopes like the one that has given its name

to the Sermon on the Mount (Mat. 5. 1 ff.); in the fields (Mat. 12.1); in

the "wilderness", that is, in uncultivated places (Mark 8. 4), and so on.



When he was invited to a meal, he accepted (John 2. 1 ff.) even though his

host was not kindly disposed toward him (Luke 7. 36 ff.). He healed the

sick wherever he encountered them, and also went to their homes (Mark 1. 29

ff.).



But then he would withdraw once more from the crowd, even from his

disciples and nearest friends, to retreat into solitude. His public

ministry began with a long fast and communing with God in the wilderness

(Mat. 4. 1 ff.). Time and again it is recorded that he went off alone to

pray (Mat. 14. 23). He did this particularly before important events like

the choosing of the apostles (Luke 6. 12 ff.), the transfiguration (Luke 9.

18, 28), and at Gethsemane before his Passion (Mat. 26. 36 ff.).



In all matters relating to custom and ritual, in the first place, he

conformed to the Law like everyone else.



At the same time, however, he definitely set himself above the Law. He did

this not merely in the sense that he expounded the Law more intelligently

and more spiritually than the fanatics, as we see in his clashes on various

occasions over the law of the Sabbath (Mat. 12. 9 ff., etc.), but

radically. He looked upon the Law as something over which he had power:

"The Son of man is lord of the sabbath" (Mat. 12. 8), and if Lord of the

Sabbath, then Lord of the whole Law, of which the Sabbath was one of the

most important parts. His anticipation of the Paschal meal by one day is

likewise a sign of this lordship over the Law. At the Last Supper itself,

this claim is made even more forcefully: not merely because he introduced

into and instituted in this sacred rite himself, but because he annulled

the rite itself and with it the whole old Covenant and announced the "new

Covenant" and the new memorial feast (Luke 9 9. 20).



At this point we might ask about Jesus' outward appearance and manner. This

is a difficult question to pose.



To ask what someone looked like, how he spoke or acted, is to presuppose a

detachment which in fact we never find anywhere in the atmosphere which has

surrounded the figure of Jesus for nearly two thousand years. When the

question has been raised, however, as for example in connection with the

various traditions concerning his true image, it seems to have had very

minor importance. The question is also hard to put because the records,

which are interested in quite other matters, make no direct comment on

these details. They are concerned with Christ's importance in God's

economy, his importance for the salvation of man. They concentrate on the

absolute in his nature, compared with which all that is relative must

yield. Thus, the image of Jesus has always been severely stylized. Any

personal note we may discover is in each case attributable to an individual

who has made it his interest. It will be found to reflect a particular kind

of religious experience, or a special ideal of human perfection represented

by some person or period as realized in the Redeemer. We need only point,

in this connection, to the works of religious painters and poets.



So we shall not attempt to offer any solution, but will merely suggest

where perhaps it might be found.



What sort of general impression does Jesus make if we compare him with the

great figures by whom God revealed his will in the Old Testament, with

Moses or Elias, for example?



The first thing which strikes us is his great calmness and meekness. We are

apt to associate a certain weakness with these words. Was Jesus weak? Is he

a figure of that tenderness which belongs to a late period in history when

contrasted with the moods of earlier ages? Does he seem like some highly

sensitive, vulnerable character of a later age, restricted by his very

depth of understanding, so different from the creative and aggressive

figures of early times? Is he merely the kind one, the all-compassionate

one? Is he only the one who suffers and patiently accepts the burden of

destiny and life?



Unfortunately art and literature have often presented him in some such

guise; but the truth is quite otherwise.



The impression which Jesus obviously made upon his contemporaries was that

of some mysterious power. The accounts show that all who saw him were

caught, and indeed shaken, by his nature. They felt that his words were

full of power (Mat. 7. 29; Luke 4. 36). His actions--apart from special

occasions--reveal a spiritual energy which marked itself off completely

from all human standards, so that, when describing his nature, men turned

to the familiar concept of the prophet (Mat. 16. 14; Luke 7. 16). But on

occasion this energy burst forth in an overwhelming display of power, as in

the episode with Peter after the miraculous catch of fish (Luke 5. 8), or

during the storm on the lake (Mat. 8. 23 ff. et par.). There is not a trace

of hesitant reflection, sensitive reserve, diffidence, or passive

spinelessness. He was filled with a power capable of any outburst or

violence; but this power was controlled, nay transformed, by a moderation

which took its source in his innermost being, by a deep goodness and

kindness, and by a sublime freedom.



We could express the idea thus: Jesus is the personification of a

marvelously pure "humanity", not in spite of his enormous spiritual power,

but precisely because of it.



This unity of power and humanity--taking the word in its purest sense--is

one of the most prominent features of the figure of Jesus, especially as it

emerges in the accounts of the first three Gospels. His willpower, his

awareness of mission, his readiness to accept its consequences, and finally

the mighty power of the Spirit--all this is translated into pure humanity

so completely and creatively, that we can describe his significance by

saying: He is able to bring men to understand and put into effect what is

meant by true humanity, even though--or because--he is more than a mere

man.



To put it another way: unobtrusiveness is of the very essence of the

"happening" we call Jesus.



We have only to compare his outward activity with other biblical or non-

biblical happenings to see how the mighty word, bold gesture, powerful

deed, fantastic situation, and the like, are alien to him. Strange as it

may seem, the character of the extraordinary is missing even in his

miracles. These are certainly great; many of them, like raising the dead,

feeding the multitude, or walking on water, are tremendously impressive.

But even these have something about them which makes them seem, one might

almost say, "natural". This "humanity" of which we spoke reappears as

unobtrusiveness.



Jesus' manner must have been very simple, his attitude so natural that

people hardly noticed it. His actions proceeded quietly from the needs of

the situation. There was nothing incredible about them. His words, too, had

this unobtrusive quality about them. If we compare them with the words of

an Isaiah, or a Paul, they strike us as being extremely moderate and brief.

Compared with the sayings of a Buddha, they seem brief to the point of

bluntness, and almost commonplace.



Admittedly, we receive this impression only if we think of his words in a

purely philosophical, aesthetic or contemplative sense. If we consider them

in the situation in which they were uttered and take them seriously, we

then realize the power revealed in them, which goes far beyond "depth",

"wisdom", or "sublimity": they touch the chords of existence itself.