Salesian Literature

6.  The Union of the Divine and Human Natures in Our Lord

Sermon for Christmas Eve, December 24, 1620, concerning the Incarnation as the work of all three Persons of the most Holy Trinity, the union of the divine and human natures in Our Lord, the three "substances" in Our Lord—Divinity, body and soul—symbolized by the three tastes of manna: honey, oil and bread; how man was made God and God was made man in the Incarnation, man as a union of body and soul, images of the union of the humanity and Divinity of Our Lord: iron inflamed with fire, the fleece of Gideon, a sponge in a vast sea; the reason for the Incarnation: to teach us to live according to reason, as Our Lord practiced material and spiritual sobriety by depriving Himself of all agreeable things, doing God's will in all things—and how God does the will of those who do His; Our Lord's choice of a life of pains and labours although He could have redeemed us by a single loving sigh: desire for spiritual consolation vs. humility and resignation to God's will, and the hidden profundities of the Mystery of the Incarnation.

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Today we are celebrating the feast of the Expectation of the glorious Virgin, that is, the coining and birth of our dear Saviour and Master. I intend to give you a little catechism on the subject of the Incarnation, not a sermon or an exhortation. According to St. Thomas, everyone ought to know something of the content of the mysteries of the Faith. They certainly need not know them as apologetical theologians do.

 

No, but they ought to know them in a way which is appropriate for the simple faith of Christians. Many try to preach about them and make them understood, but there are too few who have the proper understanding of them. This is why there are many errors held about them. How can we meditate on what we do not really understand? For this reason, catechism is taught to the novices in religious communities. This is done so that they might know their faith and have some understanding of the truths on which they meditate. I will not speak learnedly of the mystery of the Incarnation, but quite simply, so as to be more easily understood. I will divide my talk into three points. We shall consider first who brought about the Incarnation. Secondly, we shall consider what the Incarnation actually is. And finally, we shall see why the Incarnation occurred.

 

First, we know that the Father gave us His Son, for we read that God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, [Jn. 3:16]. Nevertheless, it is not only the Father who brought about the Incarnation, but the Son and the Holy Spirit as well. And although the Incarnation is the work of all three Persons of the Blessed Trinity, only the second Person became incarnate. All the ancient Doctors, but especially St. Bonaventure, used comparisons to help us understand all this. So that it might be clear to you, I will adapt it to the ceremony of clothing. Here is a daughter to whom the habit is being given. The superior and the directress or mistress dress her, placing the habit on her, but she too cooperates in this. Three persons participate in this action, the daughter, the superior and the directress. Nevertheless, there is only one person who is clothed—namely, she who is receiving the habit. It is the same in the Incarnation: the Father and the Holy Spirit bring about the Incarnation, as well as the Son, who Himself becomes incarnate. But neither the Father nor the Holy Spirit becomes incarnate. Only the Son is clothed with the habit of our humanity.

 

There are many other similar examples for helping us understand this mystery. Take, for instance, the example of a prince who is being clothed in his royal purple: there are two lords vesting him, and the prince who is being vested. Though the other two have the task of dressing him, he also cooperates by moving his arms and hands. Yet of these three persons, only the prince is being clothed. These examples help to make clear that the Incarnation, though the work of all three Persons of the Blessed Trinity, results in the Son alone being clothed with our nature.

 

Whenever God acts outside Himself, it is the action of all three Persons, Father, Son and Spirit, acting as one principle of operation. Although they are three Persons, yet they are one single God, having only one same wisdom, power and goodness. Though we may attribute power to the Father, and wisdom to the Son, and goodness to the Holy Spirit, yet all Three are omnipotent, all-wise, omniscient and all-good. Thus there is only one God in three Persons, and this God is all-powerful, all-wise and all-good. Yet we name the Father "Lord" and "Creator of Heaven and of earth." But that does not mean that the Son and the Holy Spirit do not share in the creative act as well, since all Three have one same power by which They created all things. Therefore, it is neither the Father alone nor the Holy Spirit alone who wrought the Incarnation, but the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, while the Son alone becomes incarnate. So when you are asked who brought about this great mystery, you must answer that it was the work of the most Holy Trinity, but that only the second Person has taken our humanity.

The second point for consideration is: What is the Incarnation? It is what we call the hypostatic union, the union of the human nature with the divine, a union so close that although there are two natures in this little newborn Infant, yet they constitute but one Person. There are three substances in Him, the body, the divine nature, and the soul. This will be made clearer by analogies.

 

Manna is a figure of the Incarnation of the Word. It also prefigured the Eucharist, as our ancient Fathers have said. However, between the mystery of the Eucharist and that of the Incarnation there is only one difference; in the Incarnation we see the incarnate God in His own Person, and in the Eucharist we see Him under a more hidden and obscure form. In both instances it is the same God-man who was borm of the Virgin. Thus, the manna which prefigured the Eucharist can also symbolize the Incarnation. Manna was a kind of food with which the Lord fed the children of Israel, It fell at night and looked like little sugar-coated pills. [Ex, 16:13-14; Num. 11:7-9]. Some of the Doctors have said it was made in the air by angels. Whether this is so or, as others hold. God Himself made it without the aid of any creature [Ps. 77(78):25; cf. Wis. 16:20], both opinions can be used to illuminate the mystery of the Incarnation. For God used the angel Gabriel to announce this mystery to Our Lady. [U. 1:26-28]. On the other hand, no angels brought about this admirable work, but the most Holy Trinity alone, without any creaturely concurrence.

 

Manna had three distinct tastes: that of honey, that of oil, and that of bread. [Ex. 16:31; Num. 11:8; ms. 16:20]. These three substances are found in the true Manna, Our Lord [Cf, Jn. 6:31-32]: honey represents His divinity, oil His soul, and bread His body. Honey comes not from earth but from heaven.[1] It falls onto beautiful flowers, where it is wondrously preserved until bees come to gather it with unparalleled skill, nourishing themselves upon it. Now, Divinity is that honey which fell from Heaven to the earth into that beautiful flower—the humanity of our Saviour, with which It was joined and united.

 

Oil comes from neither Heaven nor earth. It does not come from the earth like other plants. Still less does it fall from heaven, as does honey. For olives grow on tall trees. Oil is a liquid which floats on top of all others. As such it represents the second substance in Our Lord, His most holy soul. The human soul does not come from the earth, in that it is not made by our parents. Our lowly bodies are indeed formed from their substance, but the infused soul is not made by them. It being entirely spiritual. God alone is its Creator. Our Saviour’s sacred body was formed from the most pure Mood of the Virgin, but His most blessed soul was directly created by the Father and the Holy Spirit at the very moment when They formed His body. At the moment the glorious Virgin gave her consent, the Holy Spirit formed the Saviour's body, and at the same time, His most holy soul came to animate it. Our Lord's soul, then, did not come from Heaven or earth, for it did not exist before the Incarnation, but simultaneous with it. It was created at the moment of the Virgin's fiat.

 

The third taste of the manna was that of bread. Now bread clearly comes from the earth. Wheat, from which bread is made, grows from the earth. Bread, then, represents for us Our Lord's third substance. For His most holy flesh was formed from the blood of Our Lady[2] and, in this way, comes from the earth.

 

Manna had three tastes, but there was only one manna. Similarly, although in Our Lord incarnate there are three substances, there is nevertheless only one Person, For the substance of the soul and that of the body are constitutive of genuine humanity, and this human nature joined together with the divine nature constitutes not two, but one Person, who is both God and man. What a wonderful work of God's providence! Knowing that Divinity was unknown to the human family, the Divine Majesty desired to become incarnate, uniting with human nature so that under this human mantle Divinity could again be acknowledged. I know that from time immemorial Divinity has been known, for all the ancient philosophers have avowed It. But this knowledge was so obscure that it was really unworthy of being called knowledge. Moreover, even when they knew God, they often did not acknowledge Him [Acts 17:23; Rom. 1:21; Eph. 4:17-18"], which is far more important. Had Our Lord not become incarnate, He would have remained always hidden in the bosom of His Eternal Father and unknown to us.

 

Certainly, in the Incarnation He has made us see that which otherwise the human mind could hardly have imagined or understood, that is, that God was man and man God: the immortal, mortal; the one incapable of suffering, suffering subject to heat, cold, hunger and thirst; the infinite, finite; the eternal, temporal—in short, man divinized and God humanized in such a way that God, without ceasing to be God, is man; and man, without ceasing to be man, is God.[3]

 

Thus we can say that the Magi who kissed the feet of this newborn little Infant kissed the feet of God. But how can this be so? Since God as God has no body, how can the Magi be said to have kissed His feet? Yet it is so because of the Personal union of the two natures.[4] These two natures are so united that. without being blasphemous, we can say: This blood is the Blood of God, the Blood of a Lamb [1 Pet. 1:19; Apoc. (Rev.) 5:12] who died for the sins of humankind.  God has been scourged and whipped; the hands of God have been stretched out and nailed to the Cross. This does not mean that God [as God] suffered all this, nor that He shed His Blood or extended His arms on the Cross, for God as God is unable to suffer. He has not endured these things as God, since the Divinity did not suffer in the Passion. The Divinity did not stretch out His hands on the Cross, or shed His blood, for in God there is neither blood, nor arms, nor hands. But we can truthfully speak thus because of the strict union of the human nature with the Divine.

 

Man is a rational creature composed of soul and body. I am truly a rational creature. To deny it would be a lie. Bodily I am an animal, but because of my spiritual soul I am a rational animal. If you regard a person with a pain in his leg from the perspective of his soul only, you will immediately ask: "How can this spiritual creature say he has a pain? For the soul has no legs, and yet it is the soul which makes us human. How can he say that he extends his arm or has a pain in his arm, since he has neither arms nor legs, the soul being entirely spiritual?" On the other hand, when you see a man talking and regard him from his corporal aspect only and not his spiritual aspect as well, you will be astonished inasmuch as it is a quality of only a spiritual nature to be able to talk and to understand. Now if this man who complains of the pain in his arm or who discourses were composed only of body or only of soul, he could neither discourse nor complain. But because of this strict union between his bodily and spiritual natures, forming but one indivisible person, we can truthfully say that this man, or rational animal, has a pain in his leg or that he is talking or discoursing, understanding these two natures as if they were one. Similarly, because of the strict union between the divine and human natures in Our Lord, we speak of them as if they were one: "Why should I not suffer such a thing, since God has suffered it?"

 

Analogies will help you to understand this better, not with the same kind of clarity you might have in seeing some sensible object or the understanding you would have of some work like, say, embroidery, but you will have sufficient understanding to believe it correctly. Take an iron plate and cast it into a burning furnace. Then with tongs, withdraw it from the fire. You will see that this plate, which shortly before was only iron, is now so inflamed that you cannot tell whether it is made of iron or fire; for the iron is so inflamed that it appears to be fire rather than iron, so completely have these two natures mingled together. In this condition, you could truthfully say that this fire is a fire of iron, and that this iron is iron that has caught fire. Yet this union is without prejudice to either, for the iron, cast into the fire, does not cease being iron—nor does the fire in the iron cease being fire. You have only to pour water on the hot iron plate, and it will return to its original form.

 

It is similar with the Divinity and the humanity in Our Lord. The Divinity is, as it were, the burning furnace into which the humanity has been cast, with this humanity so joined to Divinity that it shares now in the divine nature in such a way that man has become God and God has become man, without, in this intermingling, the divine nature and the human nature ceasing to be what they were before. Now, as the iron drawn from the furnace is no longer called simply iron but flaming iron, and the fire, a fire of iron, so we say that in the Incarnation God is humanized and man divinized. But there is an important difference: throwing water on the inflamed iron cools it and it returns to its original form. This does not happen in the union of Divinity and humanity. For from the moment that the divine nature was joined to the human nature, it was never separated from it by any water of tribulation that was cast upon them. They have always remained most intimately united, with an indissoluble and -inseparable union. This, then, is the way the mystery of the Incarnation is to be understood.

 

When Moses wanted to free the Israelites from Egypt, God instructed him on how to go about it. But I have spoken about this before. I will take another story which also suits my purpose. Gedeon was a captain in the army of Israel and desired to know, before engaging in battle with the Madianites, if he would be favoured by God. Therefore he asked for a sign. The human spirit is truly amazing![5] He said to the Lord: "I will take fleece (that is, the shearing from a ram or ewe) and stretch it out on that part of the earth used as a threshing floor. If dew falls only on the fleece so that in the morning I find the fleece thoroughly soaked but the earth bone dry, then I will take this as a most certain sign that You will be favourable to me and that we will be victorious over our enemies." He placed the fleece down, and God in His goodness brought about the miracle. Dew fell so heavily from Heaven that the fleece was drenched. But the earth under it remained so dry mat it seemed to have been beaten for many days.[6] [Jgs. 6:36-40]. Finding the fleece soaking wet with dew, Gideon took it and wrung it completely dry (great deal of water was wrung out). Then he successfully engaged in battle.

 

What does the fleece represent but Our Lord's humanity upon which the heavenly dew of the Divinity fell with such great abundance that the humanity was divinized. But here too there is an important difference between the analogy and the Incarnation, for we could never find a comparison so round that there would not be something to round off.  Gideon found the fleece completely saturated with dew, with water clinging to its surface, yet not wetting the ground. He wrung out the fleece, releasing the water. But in the Incarnation the two natures, having once become united, are never sepa­rated. Divinity, this divine dew, has never left the fleece of humanity, neither in life nor in death. It has always remained in union with Our Lord's body and soul. And even though His body and soul were separated in death, Divinity remained with both the one and the other: with the Saviour's soul in Limbo, and with His sacred body in the tomb. There is also this difference: though it was the fleece that sustained the water, it is not the humanity which sustains the Divinity, but rather the Divinity which sustains the humanity.

 

Another analogy will make this clearer still. For some reason, poets think it uncivil to speak of the sponge. But certainly since it was presented to Our Lord during His Passion when He said that He was thirsty [Jn. 19:28-29], from the moment this sponge touched the sacred lips of the divine Saviour, it has been canonized.[7] Since then it has become an acceptable image for use when speaking of holy things. No longer an incivility to speak of it, it is on the contrary an honorable and becoming thing. For this reason I will use it to help you understand the Incarnation.

 

Imagine a huge sponge which grew in the sea and had never been used by any creature. In the sea every part of this sponge is filled with water, with the sea above it, beneath it, all around and within it, not the least particle of it that is not saturated with water. But neither the sponge nor the sea loses its nature. Take note of this: although the sea is in all parts of the sponge, the sponge does not absorb the sea, for the great and vast sea cannot be contained in the sponge. This comparison represents very well the union of the human and divine natures.

 

The sponge symbolizes our Saviour's sacred humanity, and the sea His Divinity. His humanity is so imbued with the Divinity that there is not a single part of Our Lord's body and soul which is not filled with the Divinity, yet without this human nature ceasing to be integrally human. But the humanity is not everywhere that the Divinity is, for the Divinity is like an infinite sea which surrounds and fills everything but cannot Itself be contained by anyone or anything. By these comparisons it is clear what the Incarnation is. When asked what this mystery is, you ought to answer thus: "It is such a union of the human nature with the Divine, such a joining of Divinity with humanity, that by it man became God—and God, taking his nature, became man."

 

Now to the third point of our reflection: why did the Incarnation occur? It occurred in order to teach us to live no longer like brute animals, as people did after Adam's fell, but with and according to reason. Our Lord came, in feet, to teach us abstinence and sobriety in material things, honors and comforts of this world, to trample all that underfoot while embracing their opposites. Before the Incarnation men lived like brute beasts [Ps. 48(49): 13, 21], running after this life's honors and pleasures as horses, dogs and other animals go after what they covet. Watch a horse. When it is thirsty and finds a place to quench its thirst, it plunges into the water. Even if it is bridled, there is no way of stopping it. It will drag its rider with it. People who live not according to reason, but according to their disorderly appetites, plunge into the search for sensual satisfactions. Desiring to draw them away from this manner of life, Our Lord became incarnate in order to bridle and check them, teaching them by His works not to value these things at all.

 

There is no beast, however brutal, who does not recognize the one who is good to him. The horse knows its former stable, because it was given its oats there. The dog knows its master. The same is true of other animals, which seem to have a certain feeling for those who are good to them. [Cf. Is. 1:3]. While man was living like a brute animal, Our Lord came to teach him how to live otherwise. He gave him many wonderful examples of sobriety. And there is no one, however deficient in judgment and reason, who, knowing this, would not experience some feeling of gratitude for it.

 

Now the Saviour also became incarnate to teach us spiritual sobriety, which for Him consisted in a detachment from and a voluntary privation of all the delightful and agreeable things He could have had and received in this life. He willingly and with full consent took upon Himself all the labors and tribulations, poverty and contempt that could be endured in this world. [Is. 53:4-5]. His perfectly glorious soul continually enjoyed the clear vision of Divinity, yet He did not wish, for that reason, to be exempt from sorrows. At the moment of His Incarnation He saw and read in the book of predestination all that He was to suffer. This book was entitled The Holy Will of God. Now, during His entire life Our Lord did nothing else but read, practice and keep all that He had found written there [Ps. 39(40):7-9; Heb. 10:5-9], conforming His will to that of His heavenly Father, as He Himself said: "I came not to do My own will, but that of Him who sent Me." [Jn. 6:38].

 

Oh, how happy we would be to read this same book well, and to devote all our efforts to the accomplishment of God's will for us by the renunciation and complete surrender of our own will, with no other concern but to conform our will to His! By this means we would obtain from His goodness all that we could possibly desire. He whose only concern is to do the divine will obtains from His goodness all that he needs. To the extent that one accomplishes this holy will, God does his, as it is written: "The Lord does the will of those who fear Him." [Ps. 144(145):19]. You saw how He did all that Gideon wanted when he asked a sign of Him.

 

At the moment of His Incarnation our dear Saviour saw all that He was to suffer: the whips and lashes, the nails and thorns, all the injuries and blasphemies that would be spewed out upon Him—in short, all that He must suffer. Extending His sacred arms and offering Himself in unparalleled love to bear all those things, He embraced them and placed them in His Heart with such love that He began from that moment to feel all that He would afterwards suffer during His Passion. From that moment, by a complete detachment, He deprived Himself of all the consolations that He could have received in this life. The only exceptions were those of which He could not deprive Himself. For our salvation and Redemption, He subjected the lower part of His soul to suffer sadness, pain, fear, apprehension and dread. He did all this not through constraint or because He could not do otherwise, but willingly and with full determination—the better to manifest His love to us.

 

Certainly, all these sufferings were not necessary for our salvation, for a single act of love, a single loving sigh from His Sacred Heart would have been of infinite price, infinite value, infinite merit.[8] A single one of His sighs would have been enough to redeem not only this world but a thousand worlds, and a thousand thousand human and angelic natures, if there had been that many and had they sinned. Not only a single sigh—a single one of His tears would have been enough to redeem all of them and to satisfy Divine Justice, since it would have been shed from the infinite love of an infinite Person. Our Lord merited more by the breath of a single loving sigh than all the saints, all the cherubim and all the seraphim could ever merit. God was more honored by a single act of love and adoration offered by the most blessed soul of the Saviour at the moment of its creation than He has ever been or ever will be by all the acts of love and adoration of all creatures, both angelic and human. Yet our dear Master did not wish to redeem us by a single sigh. Rather, He willed to suffer a thousand pains and labors, paying in full rigor of justice for our faults and iniquities, teaching us by His example spiritual sobriety, detachment from all consolations, so as to live according to reason and not according to our appetites and affections.

 

That is why we are in the habit of saying to young girls about to enter this monastery that religion is "a school of abnegation of all wills," a cross on which we must be crucified. In short, we come here to suffer, not be consoled. If you desire sugar and sweets, you had better take yourself to a candy store; for here we eat only bitter food, painful to the flesh but always profitable to the heart. I always say to these girls, and I cannot repeat it too often: "Come now, my dear daughter, what are you really looking for in religion? Consolations?" "Yes." "Then you had better reconsider, for you are deceiving yourself if you expect to be consoled here, to receive and taste spiritual sweets." O God, we must not look for that! Such conduct is insupportable to those who know even the least bit about true devotion. Come here to live in profound humility and complete resignation, ready to accept with equanimity of spirit both desolations and consolations, sweetness and tribulations, dryness and repugnances. If God gives you consolations or sweets, kiss His hand and thank Him very humbly, but do not remain there. Go further, and humble yourself.[9]

 

Certainly, it is a great pity to see Our Lord suffer so much, deny Himself all the pleasures and consolations He could have received even in the midst of His sufferings, choosing to accept only those of which He could not be deprived, while we, on the other hand, are so in love with these pleasures and consolations that we seem to work only to receive them! However little our consolations may be, we take such great pleasure in reflecting on them and delighting in them that we end up doing nothing worthwhile. These consolations are the delight of certain people who are much too eager for them. They are not really necessary. You are certainly no better for having them. After all, God grants them to both the just and to sinners. Sometimes He even gives many to people in the state of sin, deprived of grace! Why then cling to them so tenaciously?

 

Consider, I beg you, this little newborn Infant in the manger at Bethlehem. Listen to what He says to you. Look at the example He gives you. He has chosen the most bitter, the poorest things imaginable for His birth. O God! whoever remains close to this manger during the Christmas octave will melt with love in seeing this little Infant in so poor a place, weeping and trembling from the cold. Oh, you will see how reverently the glorious Virgin your Mother kept looking at His Heart, all aflame with love, as she wiped the sweet tears which flowed so softly from the gentle eyes of this blessed Babe! How she ran after the sweet fragrance of His virtues! [Cant. 1:3(4)].

 

Behold God incarnate! How beautiful it has been to reflect on the very profound mystery of our Saviour's Incarnation! But all that we can possibly know and understand from this reflection is as nothing. We could very well repeat what a certain wise man said. He had been reading a book by an ancient philosopher, whose name I cannot recall. It contained very lofty and obscure thoughts. He frankly admitted: "This book is so erudite, so difficult, that I scarcely understand anything of it. The little that I do understand is very beautiful, but I believe that what I do not understand is even more so." He was right. Using similar words while considering the mystery of the Incarnation, we could say: "This mystery is so exalted and so profound that we understand next to nothing about it. All that we do know and understand is very beautiful indeed, but we believe that what we do not comprehend is even more so. Finally, someday in Heaven above, we will grasp it fully." There we will celebrate with an incomparable delight this great feast of Christmas, of the Incarnation. There we will see clearly all that took place in this mystery. We will eternally bless Him who, from His exalted state, lowered Himself in order to exalt us. [Cf. Phil. 2:6-7; Heb. 2:9]. May God grant us this grace. So be it. Amen. So be it!

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[1]St. Francis is following the opinion of Virgil, Aristotle and Pliny in speaking of honey as a heavenly liquid. His only purpose is to make use of it as a fitting image for the Divinity in Jesus.

[2] It seems clear that in the early seventeenth century the mother's blood was considered constitutive of her child's flesh and blood.

[3] Cf. Sermons on Our Lady, "The Visitation," July 2, 1621; "The Purification," Feb. 2, 1622.

[4] Here St. Francis is using the patristic Christological principle of "ex change of properties" or characteristics. This principle underscores the deep personal (hypostatic) union of the human and divine natures in Jesus by predicating both human and divine properties or charac­teristics of the one Jesus. Thus, for instance, although God cannot suffer, He can be said to suffer in Jesus, who is both God and man in one Person.

[5] It seems that St. Francis is taking umbrage at the audacity of Gedeon in asking for such a sign rather than trusting in God.

[6] Used as a threshing floor, the earth can be said to be "beaten."

[7] Cf. St. Francis de Sales: Defense de l'Estendart de la sainte Croix (Defense of the Standard of the Cross), Book 1, chapter 4.

[8] Cf. Sermons for Lent, "The Passion of Our Lord and What It Means," Good Friday, March 25, 1622.

[9] Cf. Introduction to the Devout Life, Part IV, chapter 13.

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