of power who can perform miracles, attract disciples, and provide moral clarity. For Elizabeth Johnson, the tradition of Sophia stresses inclusion, justice, and participation. Omniscience promises that all answers are provided. Wisdom actually invites us to a place which is more paradoxical. As Stephen Barton observes:
for wisdom is not just a body of knowledge, it is also a way of seeing which attends to what lies hidden as well as to what lies on the surface. Insofar as it attends to what is hidden, wisdom is a way of seeing which has the potential for being innovative, paradoxical, ironic and subversive. Here, the place of the wise is taken by the fool, the place of the strong by the weak, the place of the mature by the child.29
Wisdom is not knowledge of every true proposition; instead, wisdom can see the simple truths within the complexity. Wisdom implies an open-endedness; a wise person never assumes that they know everything; there is always more to learn.30
The argument here is simple: conceptually, when we think about what an incarnation involves, we do not need a God-man who is able to speak every language or know the number of calories in every type of soda. Neither of these skills would disclose to us the nature of God. Such skills would just reveal a God of parlor tricks. Instead, our need is for a life from which we can learn of the love, compassion, and radical call for inclusion (see Box 2.9).
Box 2.9
The author has made his case. This sentence is the one you would quote if you were summarizing this argument in a publication. The reader will accept the argument if this distinction between wisdom and “cognitive knowledge” is persuasive.
Incarnation and a Person with Down’s Syndrome
Herein allow me a confession: much as I love Jesus, part of me wishes that instead of a Jewish male, the Eternal Wisdom had taken the form of a person with Down’s Syndrome. In my experience a person with Down’s is a much more reliable vehicle for disclosing the life of God than most other people. Their obligation to live in the present, their deep compassion and empathy, their sense of fun, and their exceptional capacity for inclusion are all built in; their very biology makes them ideal vehicles for the disclosure of God.
It is true that if God had been incarnate in a person with Down’s, then there would have been a different teaching style. The parables and stories would have been different. The conversations with opponents would have to resort less to good argument and more to intuitive assertion. But this could have all worked: humanity near such a life could still see the reality of God residing in that life in a unique way. It could have still been a life that provoked worship from those around that life.
Now much is made of the challenge of a male Jesus for women. The objection is simple: the experiences of men and women are distinctive; Jesus never knew the challenge of the menstrual cycle or the distinctive experience of childbirth. So how can a male Jesus be representative of all humanity?
The standard answer is simple: to be a human one has to be a particular human. You have to be born into a family, at a certain time, or a certain gender. Although the Incarnation could have taken a variety of forms, it did need to be a form – a particular person. And the Jewishness, maleness, and first centuryness are all part of what it is to be a human person.
However, it is also recognized that the fact that Jesus was male does not mean and cannot mean that women are not complete full forms of humanity. So the first reason why this exercise matters is simply this: it is important for Christian theologians to stress that people with special needs are complete and full forms of humanity. We recognize that it is a contingent fact that the Incarnation took the form of a first-century male and not a logically necessary one. In the same way that God could have been incarnated as a woman, so I am arguing God could have been incarnated as a person with Down’s Syndrome (see Box 2.10).
Box 2.10
At this point, the author links this argument to the wider argument of incarnational possibilities. The point is made that the Incarnation of God in the form of a male Jew was contingent, not logically necessary. This means that the Incarnation could have taken a different form.
Incarnation and Jesus
Election is a mystery. It was the Jewish people who were chosen; it was Mary the mother of Jesus who gave birth to the Christ. Jesus was able-bodied; Jesus was male; and Jesus spoke Aramaic and was heavily shaped by a Jewish apocalyptic worldview. One important purpose of this exercise is that once one recognizes that conceptually God could have taken the form of a person with Down’s, then we can liberate our study of the New Testament and let Jesus be Jesus.
The joy of this argument is that Bart Ehrman, the New Testament scholar, could be right and Jesus could still be God. Once we let go some of the classical expectations that we have of the Incarnation, we are free to be gentler with Jesus. So Bart Ehrman sees Jesus as an apocalyptic prophet. According to this picture, Jesus saw himself as an agent, who is ushering in the end of the age. It was to be a literal kingdom of God, where the forces of wickedness will be overthrown, and a new set of values will dominate the community. Now if this picture of Jesus is right, then it is long way from the omniscient Jesus of the classical Christology. For Ehrman, Jesus did not think he was God; he was not omniscient; instead, he was mistaken in many ways. However, if the Incarnation of the Wisdom of God does not require an omniscient Jesus or even a Jesus as intelligent as Einstein, then perhaps this “deluded” Jesus might still be that embodiment of God, that is, once we concede that there are things of which Jesus was not aware, one of which could be his own divinity.
Like every human being, Jesus is limited by the culture into which he is born. Yet those closest to him recognized in him an encounter with God. They also struggled with their expectations. The idea of “messiah” carried a set of connotations that Jesus constantly evaded. However, as Larry Hurtado has pointed out, these monotheistic Jews still found themselves worshiping the God embodied in this person.31 For all the limitations of the man, the divine came shining through. Questions about the intelligence of Jesus or whether Jesus was inaccurate in his predications about the end of the world or even the knowledge of Jesus about his own status and access to the Father are now relegated to a secondary status. Indeed one could argue that it is important for the embodiment of the Divine Sophia to have these limitations.32 The coming of the Spirit promises to take us further into the mystery of God; Jesus is a definitive disclosure of God (a control on our theology), but not a comprehensive disclosure.
Conclusion
The question was simple: Is it possible for the Eternal Word to be made manifest in a person with Down’s Syndrome? The answer I have suggested is an overwhelming affirmative. It is indeed possible. It is possible because the classical expectation of divine omniscience in Jesus is mistaken; it is possible because we recognize that underpinning the logos language is Sophia language; it is possible because wisdom is different from knowledge of countless propositional facts; and it is possible because a person with Down’s is a complete form of humanity.
Turning from possibility to what God actually did in Christ, the delightful conclusion of this article is that we need to worry less about defending a particular account of Jesus. Jesus need not meet the classical expectations for his life; he can be who he was. It is still perfectly possible that a person with a limited cultural horizon could bring to us the Wisdom of God. This is the Christian claim; this is the Christian affirmation.33
Notes
1 1 In many ways, this is an exercise in what Oliver Crisp would call “analytic theology” or perhaps “philosophical theology”.
2 2 For a good discussion see Kristin Johnston Largen, Baby Krishna, Infant Christ: A Comparative Theology of Salvation (Maryknoll, NY: