I’ve got to note that it got up to about 55° (13° C.) today, and it was just lovely.

Considering the way I’ve been griping, I felt I ought to mention that.



More today on the “Body and Soul” topic. I wanted to say more yesterday, but I thoughtfully chose not to throw a huge post at you all at once.

When I said that the doctrine of the Incarnation is the center of my theology, I felt awkward. I don’t think there’s actually any competition for “The Number One Christian Doctrine,” because Christian doctrine is like a Chinese puzzle—it all fits together in a particular way, and if you miss one piece, the whole thing doesn’t work.

But it seems to me that the doctrine of the Incarnation occupies a special place. When the Apostle John wrote, “This is how you recognize the Spirit of God: Every spirit that acknowledges that Jesus Christ has come in the flesh is from God, but every spirit that does not acknowledge Jesus is not from God” (1 John 4:2-3), he gave us a puzzle that’s troubled many of us. “Aren’t there heresies that say that Jesus came in the flesh?” we ask. Well, yes, but I think I glimpse John’s point afar off.

In general, historically, the great heresies have gotten this particular doctrine wrong. They either overspiritualize or underspiritualize the nature of Christ. They either say He wasn’t fully human, or they call Him just a great prophet. The doctrine of the Incarnation seems to be (to mix metaphors) the fulcrum on which Christian doctrine balances, the touchstone that tells you whether the gold is pure or not.

And the human heart testifies to this by responding to the concept of incarnation on a profound level.

What is it that moves us when we look at that beautiful new car in the showroom? That wonderful new house we want? It’s more than just, “This car will get me from place to place really fast,” or “This house will be a comfortable place for my family to live.” It’s a feeling that in this car or this house we’ll find something new, something fresh, something that will satisfy us on an profoundly existential level. Something that will make our lives more joyous and meaningful.

We’re looking for a physical thing that satisfies a spiritual hunger.

This is especially true in the arenas of sex and love. I’ve been watching several Noir films recently, and I’ve come to the conclusion that (with certain exceptions) I don’t like them much. The classic Noir (this isn’t always true) tells the story of a fairly ordinary mug who gets the opportunity to make a big financial score and win a beautiful dame’s love. All that’s demanded of him is his soul. He has to make a little moral compromise. Usually just a small one at the start. But it leads him down the road to murder and his own death.

Well, what’s this mug doing? He’s trying to find his spiritual aspirations incarnate in the dame.

This, as any theologian could tell him, is an attempt to get the benefits of the Incarnation without submitting to the true Incarnate One. (That’s why most Noir films are essentially moral. I may not like them much, but I’ll admit they’re generally moralistic stories.)

And the reason the stories are almost always tragic is because all people, even movie people, understand that real happiness can’t be found where we think it’s found.

This is the tragedy of human life, and one of those places where human tragedy can be an opening for the gospel. In the words of Augustine, “Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.”