[two]
From all eternity, the Son does nothing more than (and nothing less than) what the Father envisions for Him (see D. A. Carson, The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God, ch. 2). What does the Father envision for the Son? A filial existence. A Father-centred form of life. The Father gives the Son life in Himself (Jn 5:26) by showing himself as Father to the Son. And the Father shows himself as the one whom the Son is to imitate. “Very truly I tell you, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does” (Jn 5:19 NIV).
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Of course the Son’s “imitation” of the Father is not an ontologically external copying; neither it is impartial or imperfect. For this “imitation” is made possible by a communion of being. The Son possesses by nature the same principle of activity (the divine essence or life) that the Father possesses by nature. At the same time, we should also affirm the inverse. The Father generates the Son – the Father gives the Son His divinity, grants Him divine life, inserts Him into the divine communion of being – just in this way: by showing Himself as Father, the one to be imitated.
Now as the incarnate Son, Jesus lived out perfectly in time the Father-centred way of life that the Father envisions for Him. What has this to do with me? Everything. What the Father has in mind for me is nothing besides what the Father had in mind for Jesus Christ. Jesus embodies perfectly, and in this way reveals, a filial existence, a Father-centred form-of-life. But filial existence is also what the Father envisions for me. There is no aspect or moment of my true identity that is not already contained and fulfilled in the Father-centred life of Jesus.
Admittedly, the particular way in which I am called to live out a Father-centred life by imitating and participating in Christ, is unique to me as a person (I mean qualitatively unique, not just numerically distinct). How many actual expressions of Christian existence are there? As many as the number of true Christians. And this is always increasing. How many possible expressions of Christian existence are there? An infinite number, presumably. But none of these actual and possible expressions of Christian existence falls outside the totality of the life and work of Jesus Christ – not even partially. The person and life of Jesus is brimming with potential for its repetition and participation in all manner of ways down the ages and across cultures.
To repeat, what the Father has in mind for me is nothing besides what the Father had in mind for Jesus Christ. Everything that the Father envisions for mankind – indeed, everything that the Father envisions for all of creation – is pre-contained in what the Father envisions for Jesus Christ, the Incarnate Son of God. However – and this is my next point – that is not to say that the Father’s “true idea” of me is equal to the Father’s “true idea” of the Incarnate Son. Let me explain. For the sake of argument suppose that, at the end of time, I match up perfectly to the Father’s “true idea” of me – not forensically or by imputation, but objectively, by the transforming work of the Spirit. Still, in that state, I would not be equal to Christ. Here it is not enough to say that my Christian being would have derived totally from the being of Christ. For that is still compatible with an affirmation of equality (for we say that the Son is equal to the Father, although he derives his existence totally from the Father). We must also say the following: My Christian existence, even once it is perfected in the final state of glory, is not some ultimate, unsurpassable, totally adequate embodiment of Christian existence per se. Only Christ Himself is that. And so we have to concede that the “true idea” that the Father applies to me in particular, is not identical to the Perfect Idea that the Father has of His incarnate Son. What I am called to realise in my life, by being-in-Christ, is merely a certain “formal participation” in that Perfect Idea. Suppose again that I eventually realise perfectly the unique identity (in Christ) that the Father envisions for me. That state of perfection would still fall short of the Perfection of Christ, because the former only takes part in the latter. The Father’s expectation for me, presumably, is that I would realise perfectly, by being-in-Christ, the “true idea” that he has always had in mind for me (and this objectively, not merely by “imputation”). But the Father does not expect me to be equal in perfection to Christ – He only expected that of Christ himself. Yes, the glory that shines in and through me is equal to the perfection of Christ, since it is the Spirit of Christ. But the shining itself it somewhat dulled – even in heaven – just because the instrument or medium of the shining is neither divine, nor hypostatically united to the Word.
It is important to note that Catholics concede this last point even for the Immaculate Virgin, the one who is said to be “full of grace” (Lk 1:28) more than any other. Mary the Mother of God is not a divine person. Her humanity is not hypostatically united to the Word. She is considered to be the “spouse” of the Holy Spirit, but that is not to say that she is hypostatically united to the Holy Spirit, let alone consubstantial with the Holy Spirit. Like all orthodox Christians, Catholics deny the possibility of some “intermediate” ontological status between creature-hood and divinity. Father, Son and Holy Spirit are divine – and they are all equally and perfectly divine, for there is no other way of being divine – and all other existing things are merely creatures, however dignified they might be by nature and/or grace.
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