The Idea of Incarnation in First John

1970 ◽  
Vol 24 (3) ◽  
pp. 291-302
Author(s):  
Paul S. Minear
Keyword(s):  

When we refer to the Johannine doctrine of incarnation we should have in mind, as the primary circle of meaning, the experienced actuality of the indwelling of Christ in the believer and the church, the reception from God of the Spirit, the anointing, and the forgiveness of sins, by which a community in conflict with the devil is given the victory, by which it knows the truth, loves the brethren, and makes its witness to what it has seen and heard.

Traditio ◽  
1956 ◽  
Vol 12 ◽  
pp. 149-230
Author(s):  
Marvin L. Colker

Fundamental to Christianity is the belief in the redemptive death of Christ. But not always has there been complete agreement among theologians as to the precise reason or reasons for Christ's death. For centuries the soteriology of the Church may be said to have been in large part demonocentric. The devil had certain rights over fallen man, rights which could not be violated, still less taken away. If his dominion over man was to be destroyed, it must be done not by any arbitrary exercise of the divine Omnipotence, but in a manner reasonable and just. Some theologians even spoke of Christ's death as a ransom paid to the devil for man's release. With varying nuance such ideas as these were dominant from the days of St. Irenaeus of Lyons' until the very end of the eleventh century, when St. Anselm of Canterbury struck out upon entirely new lines of thought. In his Cur Deus Homo new concepts were introduced into the discussion of the problem. By sin man had offended the infinite majesty of God: God's rights had been violated. Satisfaction must be made, and that by man, for it was he who had sinned. But since the infinite offence which we call sin could not really be atoned for by a finite creature, the necessary satisfaction called for a God-man.


PMLA ◽  
1952 ◽  
Vol 67 (5) ◽  
pp. 790-808
Author(s):  
Howard Schultz

Milton's students have lived, and fairly placidly on the whole, with the problems they have discerned in Paradise Regained or with feeble solutions in despite of the poet's plain instruction to read his work as, before all else, a parable for the church. If we bow to his authority we have only to explain centuries of critical silence; once delivered from the accepted interpretation of the poem as a manual of holy living, we shall no longer need to guess why John Milton, who eternally found his own habits blameless, should in a piece of pietism unique among his works, in a “quietistic, Quaker-like poem” denying his constant humanism, consign to the devil the chief blessings of this world, most of the arts that polish life, many of the goods that he had sought for himself, and, leaving himself without excuse, then invite his friends to regard the result as his finest work. His very pride in the brief epic must, for all its undeniable beauties, seem a little like a mother's love for a defective child unless he meant a little more than meets the careless ear, inasmuch as the most resolute exculpations have not entirely explained away the poem's “inhospitable bareness,” its generous portion of didactic tedium, and the dramatic failure of its static contest.


1991 ◽  
Vol 8 ◽  
pp. 77-97
Author(s):  
R. W. Scribner

Of the numerous criticisms and expressions of grievance directed at the Church in Germany on the eve of the Reformation, the most devastating was the charge of inadequate pastoral care. Reformers of all complexions bewailed the poor state of the parish clergy and the inadequate manner in which they provided for the spiritual needs of their flocks. At the very least, the parish clergy were ill-educated and ill-prepared for their pastoral tasks; at the very worst, they exploited those to whom they should have ministered, charging for their services, treating layfolk as merely a means of increasing their incomes, and, above all, resorting to the tyranny of the spiritual ban to uphold their position. The popular propaganda of the early Reformation fully exploited such deficiencies, exposing the decay in root and branch of a system of pastoral care depicted as no more than an empty shell, a facade of a genuine Christian cure of souls. The attack on the traditional Church was highly successful, successful enough to provoke an ecclesiastical revolution, and almost a socio-political revolution as well. It was, indeed, so successful that generations of historians of the Reformation have seen the condition of the pre-Reformation Church largely through the eyes of its critics and opponents. This negative image was matched by an idealized view of what succeeded it: where the old Church had failed the Christian laity, indeed, so much that they had virtually fallen into the hands of the Devil, the new Church offered solutions, a new way forward, a new standard of pastoral care and concern that created a new ideal, the Lutheran pastor, who cared for his flock as a kindly father, a shepherd who would willingly give up his life for his sheep.


Author(s):  
Dr. Gabriel Andrade

Satan has been a changing character for the last 2500 years. For most of its history, the Devil was represented as God’s archenemy, the representation of absolute evil. By the 19th Century, this approach had begun to change with the Romantics, some of whom represented a more heroic character. In the mid-20th Century, in the mist of counter-cultural movements, the figure of Satan was once again apprehended by non-conformists. The most notorious of these was Anton LaVey, who founded the Church of Satan. This article reviews LaVey’s approach to the figure of Satan, some of the rituals and symbolisms associated with this movement, and the way LaVey used Satan as a way to represent his particular philosophical views. Key Words: Satanism, Anton Lavey, Church of Satan, Devil


Author(s):  
Wayne Glausser

Pope Francis has received a great deal of attention for his modern, secular-friendly gestures: he has embraced many people traditionally condemned by the Church (such as LGBT Catholics and divorced women), and he has condemned corporate greed and the degradation of the environment. But Pope Francis has another side that seems contrary to this modernity. He has shown a real passion for archaic devotional practices that many modern Catholics consider superstitious, and he has made it clear that he believes in the Devil as a literal, powerful presence in the world. Francis the Old entangles in thought-provoking ways with Francis the New. This chapter explores the entanglement with analyses of relics, including the Shroud of Turin, and Francis’s preoccupation with the Devil and exorcism.


1911 ◽  
Vol 4 (3) ◽  
pp. 378-387
Author(s):  
Warren Seymour Archibald

Each generation and each century seems to have its own peculiar danger and its own peculiar genius. The Christian church, for example, was confronted in the early centuries with the dangerous and subtle opposition of Greek thought; and the genius of the church victoriously faced this opposition with that spiritual interpretation of the life and teachings of Jesus which we find in the Fourth Gospel. Later, in the sixteenth century, the danger appeared in a materialistic church, and the genius of the Reformation was unmistakably present in the religion of the spirit and the liberty of the individual. In the eighteenth century the peril was seen in dogma, or irreligion, or a tepid morality; and the opposition developed Pietism in Germany, Methodism in England, and the Great Awakening in New England. Every century appears to be led into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil in some new guise, and is compelled to find the apt, victorious text in Scripture.And yet, whatever be the temptation and whatever be the triumphant reply, the issues are always the same,—sin and salvation. In the Greek myth of Proteus, when that old man of the sea was grappled with, he assumed most horrible and terrifying forms. Now he was a fire, now a wild stag, now a screaming seabird, now a three-headed dog, now a serpent. Sin is always protean, and presents to the wrestling centuries new and terrible aspects. What, then, we ask, seem to be the principalities and protean powers against which we are compelled to wrestle? I venture to think they may be suggested in one word, Materialism.


1972 ◽  
Vol 9 ◽  
pp. 1-20
Author(s):  
S. L. Greenslade
Keyword(s):  

Few Paris theologians like Beda’s bitterness. How can you win if you drive those who disagree with Luther into his camp? Hatred like this made Arius a heresiarch, drove Tertullian out of the Church. This is the way to make heretics.’ So Erasmus, and elsewhere he reflects how he exposed himself to the charge of heresy by trying to be just to heretics. He was kinder than Tertullian who had no mercy for them. Heresy is the devil’s work, one of the manifold ways he attacks truth. It is evil, it is sin; it is worse than schism, it is blasphemy, a kind of adultery, close to idolatry. Heresy brings eternal death, while persecution at least gives birth to martyrs. Heretics are the ravening wolves who attack Christ’s flock. Humanly considered, heresy is a sin of the flesh for, as an act of choice, it is self-assertion against God, and so the heretic is self-condemned. More properly it is demonic, the spiritual wickednesses from which it comes were sent by the devil.


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