Why the Word Took a Human Body

And now let us explain why the bodiless Word of God took this mortal body as his means of dealing with humankind. How else, indeed, than in human form could that divine and intangible, that immaterial and invisible essence show itself to those who looked for God in created and earthly things, and who could not, or would not, see the Author and Maker of all things in any other way? [a] As a fitting means of communicating with humankind, then, he took a mortal body, a thing they themselves were familiar with; for like, as the proverb says, loves its like. So to those whose hearts were set on visible things, who looked for gods in statues and lifeless images, who imagined that the Deity was made of material and bodily substance, and who even gave men the title of divinity, the Word of God presented himself in this form. That is why he got for himself this body as a thrice-holy temple, a dwelling the senses could perceive for a power perceived only by the mind: a noble and most holy form, worth far more than any lifeless statue. The material and senseless image, shaped by the hands of common workmen out of bronze or iron, gold or ivory, wood or stone, may be a fit home for evil spirits. But that divine form, made by the power of heavenly wisdom, possessed life and spiritual being. It was a form alive with every excellence, the dwelling place of the Word of God, a holy temple of the holy God.

In this way the indwelling Word lived among men and was known to them as one of their own kind. Yet he did not give way to passions like theirs, nor was he subject to the body as the natural soul is. He gave up nothing of his own greatness, nor did his own divinity change. For the radiance of the sun, which reaches everywhere, takes no stain from touching dead and unclean bodies; much less can the bodiless power of the Word of God be harmed in its essential purity, or lose any of its greatness, through a spiritual contact with a human body. In this way, I say, our common Savior proved himself the benefactor and preserver of all. He showed his wisdom by means of his human nature, just as a musician uses the lyre to show his skill. The Greek myth tells us that Orpheus could charm wild beasts and tame their savage spirit by striking the strings of his instrument with a master’s hand. The Greeks celebrate this story and generally believe it: that an instrument without feeling could subdue the untamed brute, and draw the trees from their places, by the power of its music. But he who is the author of perfect harmony, the all-wise Word of God, wanted to bring every remedy to the many diseases of human souls. So he used the human nature that is the work of his own wisdom as an instrument, and by its melody he soothed, not indeed the brute creation, but savages gifted with reason. By the remedying power of his divine teaching he healed every furious temper and every fierce and angry passion of the soul, among civilized and barbarian nations alike. Like a physician of perfect skill, he met the diseases of the souls of those who looked for God in nature and in bodies with a fitting remedy of the same kind, and showed them God in human form. [b] Then, caring no less for the body than for the soul, he set before people’s eyes wonders and signs as proofs of his divine power, while at the same time he poured into their ears of flesh the teachings that he himself spoke with a bodily tongue. In short, he did all his works by means of that body which he had taken for the sake of those who could not otherwise grasp his divine nature.

In all this he served his Father’s will, while he himself remained the same as when he was with the Father: unchanged in his being, undiminished in his nature, not bound by the chains of mortal flesh, nor kept by his dwelling in a human body from being present elsewhere. Indeed, at the very time he was living among men he was pervading all things; he was with the Father and in the Father, and even then he was caring for all things in heaven and on earth. He was not prevented, as we are, from being present everywhere, or from the continued exercise of his divine power. He gave of his own to humankind, but received nothing in return. He shared his divine power with mortal nature, but gained no increase from mortal nature itself. So his human birth brought him no defilement, nor could his essence, which cannot suffer, suffer when his mortal body was dissolved. Suppose a lyre were damaged by accident, or its string broken: it does not follow that the one who plays it suffers. Nor, if a wise man’s body is punished, can we fairly say that his wisdom, or the soul within him, is maimed or burned. [c] Much less can we say that the Word’s own power suffered any harm from the sufferings of his body, any more than, to use the example we used before, the sun’s rays, shot from heaven to earth, are defiled when they touch mire and filth of every kind. We may indeed say that these things share in the brightness of the light, but not that the light is polluted, or the sun defiled, by this contact with other bodies.

And indeed these things are themselves not contrary to nature. But the Savior, the bodiless Word of God, is himself Life and spiritual Light, and so whatever he touches with divine and bodiless power must of necessity be filled with the understanding of light and life. So if he touches a body, it becomes enlightened and made holy; it is at once set free from all disease, weakness and suffering; and whatever it lacked before is supplied from a share of his fullness. Such was the course of his life on earth. At one moment he showed that his human nature shared our feelings; at another he revealed himself as the Word of God. As God he was wonderful and mighty in his works. He foretold events of the far-distant future. In every act, by signs and wonders and supernatural powers, he made known that Word whose presence was so little recognized. And at last, by his divine teaching, he invited the souls of men to make ready for the dwelling places that are above the heavens. [d]