The False Prophet

 

by

Damien F. Mackey

  

 

“There they met a Jewish sorcerer and false prophet …”.

 

Acts 13:6

 

 

  

Several times have I noticed biblical critics expressing a certain degree of frustration when a story that they have been keenly following suddenly peters out, leaving a lot of unanswered questions. This was most notably the case for me with Andrew E. Hill, about whose expressed annoyance in this regard I wrote in my article:

 

Frustration arises for critics when a gripping biblical drama can seem to end without any hoped-for resolution

 

(4) Frustration arises for critics when a gripping biblical drama can seem to end without any hoped-for resolution

 

He had embarked upon a thrilling commentary on the devious rôle of the shrewd counsellor, Jonadab, in the 2 Samuel 13 account of the rape of Tamar, only to feel being short-changed in the end.

 

In that article I wrote:

 

Andrew E. Hill had, in the course of his terrific commentary,

“A Jonadab Connection in the Absalom Conspiracy?”,

expressed a certain frustration due to what he called

“the almost annoying paucity of material

for careful analysis” regarding Jonadab.

 

Both of the two instances of biblical stories seeming to fall short due to the apparent lack of follow-up material, to be considered here (there are plenty of others), involve Tamar, the beautiful virginal sister of Absalom, son of David (2 Samuel 13:1-2).

Just when the story surrounding Jonadab, Absalom, Amnon and Tamar (2 Samuel 13:1-39), has begun to get really fascinating, Jonadab, qua Jonadab, disappears abruptly from the scene after making some Machiavellian comments to King David (vv. 32-33, 35) - these suggesting that Jonadab was more of an insider in Absalom’s plot than first thought.

And, secondly, in the same story, we take leave of Tamar in a very miserable state, shattered for having been raped by Amnon (v. 20): “And Tamar lived in her brother Absalom’s house, a desolate woman”.

 

Of course, we would love to know more.

 

And critics like Andrew E. Hill can express their frustration for not knowing more. His brilliant unfolding of the machinations of the shrewd Jonadab must come to an early halt due to the Bible’s failure to continue with the history of Jonadab, qua Jonadab, of whom he writes there is “the almost annoying paucity of material for careful analysis”.

 

We can feel with Andrew Hill, after he has done so clever a job of analysing the character of this Jonadab.

 

And female commentators in particular, full of sympathy for Tamar and her plight, would dearly love to know what became of her.

Did her later life take a turn for the better?

 

Thankfully, the Bible is more accommodating in this regard than one might have imagined. For, as we shall find, the history of Jonadab is carried through, further on in 2 Samuel, right to its bitter end. And, indeed, it is a bitter end.

And we also come to learn much about the incredible life story of Tamar after her horrible years of confinement in the house of Absalom.

 

The fact is that the drama of, now Jonadab, now Tamar, as known from 2 Samuel, is taken up and continued in the same book, or in Kings and Chronicles, in which the two protagonists are re-presented under different names. ….

 

I was able to continue that story right through, so I believe, thanks to my extension of the shrewd counsellor, Jonadab, as the mirror-image shrewd counsellor, Achitophel.

 

David L. Eastman has, for his part, “been harassed by a nagging question” regarding the New Testament figure of Simon Magus.

 

He summarises his “nagging question” in the Abstract of his article:

 

Simon the Composite Sorcerer

 

(5) Simon the Composite Sorcerer

 

“….

Yet over the years of studying the figure of Simon, I have been harassed by a nagging question: where does this narrative Simon come from? The Simon of the Acts of Peter, and certainly the Simon of the combined Peter and Paul martyrdom accounts, seems quite far from the Simon of the Acts of the Apostles”.

 

My own reaction to the brief account of Simon Magus in Acts 8:9-24 has been, considering the significance of the man, once again, to look for his extension elsewhere – this time in the New Testament.

 

Well, that is what David L. Eastman, coming from a different viewpoint, has proposed as a solution to his problem. And he even goes so far as to identify an extension:

 

“In this article I will propose that we understand the literary Simon of late antiquity as a composite character, forged in the fires of reception, refraction and memory primarily from two separate villains in the Acts of the Apostles: Simon himself and the sorcerer who opposes Paul, Elymas/Bar-Jesus”.

This appealed to me because, as in the case of the Old Testament’s Jonadab, suitably extended into Achitophel, we may now have a most suitable extension for Simon Magus of Acts 8 in this Elymas of Acts 13 - two sides of the one coin, I would suggest, rather than David L. Eastman’s composite of two separate entities.

 

He will proceed to draw the appropriate comparisons:

 

….

 

3. The Other Sorcerer

 

After many years of contemplating my questions about the apocryphal Simon, a rather simple solution occurred to me that had for some reason eluded me previously: the magus of the apocryphal acts is not just Simon; he is in some ways a combination of Simon and another magus that had an encounter with an apostle in Acts, namely Elymas or Bar-Jesus.

 

In Acts 13, Paul³⁹ and Barnabas arrive on Cyprus and come to the city of Paphos. This passage is worth quoting in its entirety:

 

When they had gone through the whole island as far as Paphos, they met a certain magician, a Jewish false prophet, named Bar-Jesus. He was with the proconsul, Sergius Paulus, an intelligent man, who summoned Barnabas and Saul and wanted to hear the word of God. But the magician Elymas (for that is the translation of his name) opposed them and tried to turn the proconsul away from the faith. But Saul, also known as Paul, filled with the Holy Spirit, looked intently at him and said, ‘You son of the devil, you enemy of all righteousness, full of all deceit and villainy, will you not stop making crooked the straight paths of the Lord? And now listen– the hand of the Lord is against you, and you will be blind for a while, unable to see the sun.’ Immediately mist and darkness came over him, and he went about groping for someone to lead him by the hand. When the proconsul saw what had happened, he believed, for he was astonished at the teaching about the Lord.⁴⁰

 

If we return to the general plot progression surrounding the narrative Simon in the apocryphal acts, we see a number of parallels.

(1) Elymas is identified as a ‘a certain magician, a Jewish false prophet’. Like the Simon of the Acts of Peter, Elymas is a ‘sorcerer’ (μάγον). He is also ‘Jewish’ (Ἰουδαῖον), although at that point he is active on Cyprus. Finally, he is a ‘false prophet’ (ψϵυδοπροwήτην) who is leading people away from the true message of Christ.⁴¹ Like Elymas, Simon uses his sorcery in the apocryphal acts to lure believers away from the teaching of first Paul, then Peter, in the Acts of Peter, and of both apostles in the joint accounts.

(2) Elymas has earned the trust, and is a close confidant of, a prominent member of the Roman government, the proconsul Sergius Paulus. The apocryphal Simon is in some texts closely attached to the emperor Nero.⁴²

(3) Elymas opposes the messengers of Christ, which leads to a meeting in the presence of that leader. In the same way, Simon denounces Peter or Peter and Paul, causing Agrippa or Nero to bring them all together for an in-person confrontation.

(4) Elymas is identified as ‘a son of the devil’ (υἱὲ διαβόλου), just as Simon is accused of doing the work of Satan or the devil. In the Acts of Peter, in Peter’s vision when he is still in Jerusalem, God tells him that Simon is undermining Paul’s preaching ‘by the power of Satan’ (energia Satanae). Similarly, Pseudo-Marcellus tells the reader that Simon ‘was raging in the service of the devil’ (diaboli ministerio bachabatur).⁴³

(5) Paul declares that Elymas is ‘full of all deceit and villainy’, and the apocryphal Simon deceives many by his sorcery and fraudulent so-called miracles, including a faked resurrection that fools Nero.

(6) Elymas is characterised as ‘making crooked the straight paths of the Lord’. This is especially true of Simon in the acts, who goes as far as claiming that he is the Christ. What could be a great perversion than enticing people to follow a false Christ?

(7) Sergius Paulus is ‘astonished’ (ἐκπλησσόμϵνος) and convinced by the words and actions of Paul. Although Nero ultimately kills Peter or Peter and Paul out of vengeance for the death of Simon, the narratives make it clear that the emperor’s confidence in Simon is severely shaken. In Pseudo-Marcellus’ Passion, Nero is ‘astounded’ (Nero his auditis obstupuit)⁴⁴ by Paul’s teaching and even concedes that they are beaten by the apostles.

(8) Paul and Barnabas’ encounter with Elymas ends with the punishment of the sorcerer for his wicked ways. By Paul’s word, the Lord moves against Elymas and strikes him blind ‘for a while’.⁴⁵ Christ also moves against the sorcerer Simon in the apocryphal acts. While the words of Peter and, in some texts, the prayer of Paul play a role in striking down Simon from the sky, Christ is the true actor. In the Acts of Peter, the apostle fears eternal consequences for the deceived believers if Simon is allowed to fly into heaven and asks Christ to intercede: ‘If you permit this man to do what he has set out to do, then now all those who have believed in you will be made to stumble, and the signs and wonders that you gave to them through me will be disbelieved. Hurry, Lord, to demonstrate your grace, and after he has fallen down, let him be manifestly broken to pieces but not die.’⁴⁶ In the Pseudo-Marcellus Latin Passion, we have already seen that Nero foresees possible divine judgement for Simon: ‘If I am not able to do anything to you, then the God who is able will do it.’⁴⁷ When the moment of Simon’s attempted flight arrives, Peter cries out to the demons carrying him: ‘I command you through God, the creator of all things, and through Jesus Christ, whom he raised from the dead on the third day, not to carry him any longer but to let him go.’⁴⁸ In the other Latin Passion (a section that does appear in Pseudo-Hegesippus), Paul tells Peter: ‘Ask the omnipotent God to show his power and thwart the craftiness of the enemy.’ In his prayer, Peter proclaims: ‘I rebuke you, you demons who are carrying him, through God the almighty Father and Jesus Christ his Son. Let go of him right now, and all will say that Christ is the Saviour of this world.’⁴⁹ Just as with Elymas in Acts 13, the punishment of Simon comes not from the apostles themselves, but from God. ⁴³

This dense cluster of comparisons between Elymas and the apocryphal Simon may lead us to conclude that the literary Simon is rooted more in Elymas than the biblical Simon. Such a conclusion would not be without merit, but I would like to propose a more complex model of development for the figure of Simon.

 

4. The Composite Sorcerer

 

The Simon of the apocryphal acts should be most accurately understood as a composite figure, a sort of pastiche of various traditions, of which Elymas and the Simon of Acts 8 are key components. ….

Nero may be quite irrelevant, anachronistic, to all of this:

 

Nero Caesar can be likened to king Antiochus ‘Epiphanes’, to the emperor Hadrian

 

(10) Nero Caesar can be likened to king Antiochus 'Epiphanes', to the emperor Hadrian

 

Conclusion

 

Simon Magus was the “false prophet” (ψευδοπροφήτην), Elymas.

 

Just as in the case of my identification of the Old Testament’s Jonadab with Achitophel, the names have changed. However, “Elymas” (Elymaean/Median) apparently means broadly the same as Magus (Acts 13:8): “But Elymas the sorcerer (for that is what his name means) …”.

He is a most reviled biblical character.

 

Saint Peter denounces him in strong terms:

 

Acts 8:20-23:

 

Peter answered: ‘May your money perish with you, because you thought you could buy the gift of God with money! You have no part or share in this ministry, because your heart is not right before God. Repent of this wickedness and pray to the Lord in the hope that he may forgive you for having such a thought in your heart. For I see that you are full of bitterness and captive to sin’.

 

Saint Paul even more strongly:

 

Acts 13:9-11:

 

Then Saul, who was also called Paul, filled with the Holy Spirit, looked straight at Elymas and said, ‘You are a child of the devil and an enemy of everything that is right! You are full of all kinds of deceit and trickery. Will you never stop perverting the right ways of the Lord? Now the hand of the Lord is against you. You are going to be blind for a time, not even able to see the light of the sun’.

 

 

Nero Caesar can be likened to king Antiochus ‘Epiphanes’, to the emperor Hadrian

 

by

Damien F. Mackey

 

“Antiochus IV erected statues of himself and staged his own games”.

 “This artistic self-indulgence reached its peak during Nero’s Grand Tour of Greece …. For over a year, Nero participated in Greek festivals and competitions, desperate for the adoration of Greek crowds”.

 History tools

  

Like king Antiochus ‘Epiphanes’

 

As considered in my article:

 

Nero like an Antiochus ‘Epiphanes’

 

(3) Nero like an Antiochus 'Epiphanes'

 

the notorious emperor Nero comes across rather like an Hellenistic king, born well after - so one could think - his proper time.

 

I even asked there: Was Nero really a Hellenistic Greek?

And then considered that question with reference to another article:

 

According to the following article (2024), he should have been:

Emperor Nero: A Hellenistic Ruler in the Wrong Era - History Tools

 

Emperor Nero: A Hellenistic Ruler in the Wrong Era

 

….

The Roman emperor Nero, who reigned from 54-68 AD [sic?], is one of the most notorious rulers in history. He is remembered as a cruel tyrant who persecuted Christians, murdered his own mother, and fiddled while Rome burned. His disastrous rule ended in military rebellion, conspiracy, and suicide. Yet viewing Nero through the lens of an earlier age – that of the Hellenistic kings who followed Alexander the Great – casts his reign in a different light. In many ways, Nero was a ruler born centuries too late, whose cultural appetites and royal persona would have been better suited to the courts of Alexandria or Antioch than the martial traditions of imperial Rome.

 

The Age of Hellenistic Kingdoms

 

To understand how Nero might have fit as a Hellenistic ruler, we must first understand the Hellenistic age itself.

….

 

Hellenistic kings saw themselves as cosmopolitan benefactors and civilizers, spreading Greek culture to the wider world. They competed for glory through warfare, but also through artistic and intellectual achievement. Ptolemy II Philadelphus, for instance, expanded the Great Library and patronized poets like Callimachus and Theocritus. Antiochus IV Epiphanes staged an enormous procession in Daphne featuring parade floats, exotic animals, and troops of every nationality. ….

 

This mix of royal pomp, cultural splendor, and personal extravagance defined the Hellenistic monarchies.

….

 

Nero’s Philhellenism

 

Against this backdrop, many of Nero‘s most infamous acts take on a different character. His deep love of Greek culture, considered disgraceful and un-Roman by his biographers, would have been quite at home in a Hellenistic court. Suetonius records that Nero spoke Greek fluently, surrounded himself with Greek advisors, and even considered moving the capital to Alexandria. …. Most notoriously, he fancied himself a great artist and musician, performing publicly on stage in costumes and wigs to the horror of Roman elites.

….

 

This artistic self-indulgence reached its peak during Nero‘s Grand Tour of Greece in 66-67 AD. For over a year, Nero participated in Greek festivals and competitions, desperate for the adoration of Greek crowds. He ordered games to be rescheduled around his performances and bribed judges to ensure he always won. ….

 

He lavished benefactions on Greek cities, granting them new buildings, statues, and even tax exemptions. In a stunning proclamation at the Isthmian Games, Nero "freed" the province of Achaea, exempting it from direct Roman rule. ….

 

To Romans, this behavior was disgraceful, a dereliction of imperial dignity and duties.

 

But for a Hellenistic king, it would have been quite typical. Ptolemy XII Auletes ("the Flutist") earned his nickname for his love of playing the flute, even competing in festivals. ….

 

Antiochus IV erected statues of himself and staged his own games.

….

 

Royal trips to important Greek sanctuaries and lavish benefactions to Greek cities were a standard part of Hellenistic kingship. In this light, Nero‘s Grecian tour appears less a shameful spectacle and more a throwback to an earlier model of monarchy.

….

 

Mismatch with Roman Expectations

 

The problem, of course, was that Nero was not a Hellenistic king operating in the 3rd century BC, but a Roman emperor in the 1st century AD.

 

Damien Mackey’s comment: Likewise, the Grecophilic Hadrian is considered to have been a Roman emperor, but was not (in my view):

Time to consider Hadrian, that ‘mirror-image’ of Antiochus Epiphanes, as also the census emperor Augustus

 

(6) Time to consider Hadrian, that 'mirror-image' of Antiochus Epiphanes, as also the census emperor Augustus

 

His crimes and failures were certainly his own, but his cultural misfit amplified his vices into fatal flaws.

 

Born a few centuries earlier, he might well have flourished as a flamboyant Hellenistic  ruler in the style of Ptolemy IV or Antiochus Epiphanes, lavishing patronage on arts and letters.

….

 

Like emperor Hadrian

 

This is conveniently spelled out at:

Calenda - Nero and Hadrian

 

Argument

 

Nero and Hadrian: two emperors united by a passion for the arts; both reformers in the artistic and also, in particular, in the architectural and administrative spheres. Two characters, the first much discussed, the second much less. Recent critics have portrayed them in an innovative and pioneering light, at least from a purely cultural point of view. 

 

Their passion for the arts is a well-explored topic, but rarely refers to both of them: yet, when assessing the most famous creations only, the Domus Aurea and Villa Adriana in Tivoli, fundamental signs of continuity can be perceived. Hadrian's great interest in architecture and a desire to experiment with new forms and structural solutions was fully applied in the residential complex of Villa Adriana, thanks to the considerable development of building techniques imparted during previous experiences in the imperial age, like that of the Domus Aurea.

 

But a note needs to be inserted here about the Domus Aurea:

 

“It is suggested that the Esquiline wing, the best known of the buildings presently identified as the Domus Aurea, is only partially Neronian, and that its eastern section is Flavian in date”. P. Gregory Warden.

 

See also my article:

Nero’s missing architecture

 

(5) Nero's missing architecture

 

The article continues:

 

Just like Nero’s residence, in which the buildings alternated with sumptuous gardens with basins, pools, nymphaea and fountains, in Villa Adriana, despite being in a territorial and landscape context distant from the urban dimension, the spaces containing buildings were also interspersed with multiple forms of greenery and water features; the different sectors responded to a precise logic based on intended use, combining public and official elements with elements of a private and intimate nature. 

 

Looking at the decorative features, the Domus Aurea represented a huge leap forward with respect to the past, with a quantity and quality of paintings and marble coverings, inconceivable in previous eras. Following Nero's example, the stuccoes, paintings and marbles, along with other rare and exotic materials such as gems and precious metals, were also carefully distributed according to the status of the rooms at Villa Adriana, to achieve effects of refined elegance and wonder. The same goes for the sculptural elements, with original statues of Greek art placed alongside works especially commissioned to decorate the new spaces and convey the message of imperial power and magnificence. The Domus Aurea and Villa Adriana are emblematic examples of the will of the two emperors to pass on precise political, philosophical and ideological choices. 

 

In Rome, Hadrian's building activities became materially intertwined with Nero's pre-existing constructions, as in the Palatine imperial residence or the temple of Venus and Roma on the Velian Hill, where the vestibule of the Domus Aurea was functional in the construction of the religious building, involving the extraordinary repositioning of the Colossus of Nero in the square of the Flavian Amphitheatre. A propensity for spectacularisation in the use of urban spaces found an ideal terrain in Campus Martius, a backdrop for Emperor Julius-Claudius’s aquatic festivals and at the same time a source of inspiration for the Egyptian-style settings of Villa Adriana, as well as a place dedicated to the creation of grandiose building projects, such as the Baths of Nero and the Pantheon. 

 

The historical and material evidence that links the affairs of the two emperors goes well beyond Rome, as in the case of the imperial villa in Anzio: the spectacular complex built on the coast of Lazio, although inextricably linked to the memory of Nero, also contains considerable material traces accompanied by literary evidence that refers to Hadrian’s stays in Anzio. It is a well-known fact that both emperors were interested in the Phlegraean Fields area. This was dictated not only by the healthiness of the area and the beauty of the landscape, but also by the strategic importance of the villages of Cumae, Baiae, Pozzuoli and Miseno for the economic and military interests of the empire. 

 

The charm of Hellenism transpires for both emperors in all the displays of imperial power, both public and private, as well as in the architectural designs enriched by suggestions and references to the refined culture of the eastern provinces.  

 

These examples reveal how human experience and the historical legacy of the two emperors were intertwined. ….

[End of quote]

 

Given my previous identification of the Seleucid king, Antiochus ‘Epiphanes’, with the emperor Hadrian, then I find it most fascinating, indeed, that Nero should appear, now like Antiochus ‘Epiphanes’, now like Hadrian.

 

 

 

 

Finding the Child Jesus in the Temple

 

“The evangelist Luke pointedly captures this reality when he describes how

Mary and Joseph searched “anxiously” for their Son, employing a word he uses only one other time in his Gospel, when describing the fiery anguish experienced

by the rich man in hades (see Luke 16:24-25)”.

 Clement Harrold

  

Taken from: Science of the Cross: Edith Stein's Theocentric Humanism | Church Life Journal | University of Notre Dame

 

Science of the Cross: Edith Stein’s Theocentric Humanism

by Clement Harrold August 09, 2024

 

….

Finding God Within: The Science of the Cross and the Fifth Joyful Mystery

 

Although Stein only touches briefly on Luke’s story of the finding of the child Jesus in the temple (see Luke 2:41-52) … the Gospel vignette nevertheless offers a helpful lens through which to understand the way the science of the cross functions in the life of the Christian. Certainly Stein accepts the biblical notion that the human person is a temple in which God dwells … a concept she sometimes expresses in the language of sanctuary: “Human beings are called upon to live in their inmost region. . . .

 

The angels have the task of protecting it. Evil spirits seek to gain control of it. God himself has chosen it as his dwelling.” …. Given Stein’s conviction that the essential task of the scientist of the cross is that of discovering God within the sanctuary of the self, what lessons might she then draw from the fifth joyful mystery?

A few thoughts will suffice.

 

When Mary and Joseph finally discover their beloved Son after three days of searching, theirs is the relief not only of finding their child again, but also of discovering that their experience of profound pain and loss took place for a reason: Jesus knew what he was doing all along. Yet we know that the dark night preceding this joy was an agonizing one. Presumably Mary and Joseph had already experienced various nights of the senses, whether in the ordeal of the Bethlehem birth, the tragedy of the Holy Innocents, or the forced flight into Egypt. On the occasion of losing their Son, however, night was to be far more painful, far more extreme: a night of the soul, not of the senses, where God himself is removed from their midst. The evangelist Luke pointedly captures this reality when he describes how Mary and Joseph searched “anxiously” for their Son, employing a word he uses only one other time in his Gospel, when describing the fiery anguish experienced by the rich man in hades (see Luke 16:24-25). This points us to a startling truth: for Mary and Joseph, the three days of searching were hell on earth. In their ultimate act of theomimesis, Jesus’s human parents were rewarded—albeit passively, and certainly not through their own choosing—with a taste of the same abandonment which he himself would experience on Calvary.

 

 

Yet the abandonment does not last forever, and it gives way to a deeper discovery of self. For this reason, to view the finding in the temple as nothing more than a bizarre anecdote speaking of the need for parental vigilance is to miss the point entirely. After all, it is not some failing on the part of Mary or Joseph which causes their Christ to go missing, but rather a deliberate decision on his part. Christ consciously allows his human parents to feel the loss of his presence in order that they might discover themselves more intimately in him. This reality finds symbolic expression in the temple itself, which in the Christian tradition (as Stein herself points out) at once represents the human being and the person of Christ. It is in the temple that Mary and Joseph discover Jesus, and it is in the temple of our souls that we discover that same Christ-child who permits our pains for a time, but always for the deeper purpose of love.

 

Transformation in Charity

 

In a profound way, the finding in the temple points to that lived experience of charity which forms the apotheosis of Stein’s science of the cross. Consider the question on the lips of Mary and Joseph when they are finally reunited with their Child: “Son, why have you treated us so?” (Luke 2:48). It is a question which echoes down the ages in the heart of every believer who has ever experienced intense pain; in the midst of grief, loneliness, trauma, and hurt, our cry to Jesus becomes no less spirited than that of his human parents: “Why, Jesus, why have you treated us so?”

For Stein, through the science of the cross, it is love which stands as the answer to this question. Love is why he has treated us so, and our final transformation in charity is the reason he asks us to suffer—and to discover ourselves in him. Commenting on Christ’s cryptic response to his parents (“Did you not know I must be about my Father’s business?”), Stein cites from John of the Cross in his own commentary on these first-recorded words of the Savior:

 

Nothing else can be meant by that which is the eternal Father’s business than the salvation of the world, above all the salvation of souls, since Christ our Lord applied the means foreordained by the eternal Father. . . . But what is most wonderful and divine is to cooperate in the conversion of souls and in bringing them home; for in this God’s own activity is reflected and this imitation is the greatest glory. That is why Christ, our Lord, called this the work of his Father, the business of his Father. It is also an evident truth that sympathy with the neighbor grows the more, the more the soul is united with God through love. ….

 

The Son is about the Father’s business: namely, the salvation of sinners, and the proliferation of love. For Stein, as for John of the Cross, the soul encounters God within the deepest recesses of her soul, and that encounter cannot leave her unchanged. A metamorphosing union now takes place: a union manifested in charity and in the soul’s “supernatural transformation” in God. ….

 

It now becomes evident that the science of the cross is precisely for the sake of that “transforming union through perfect love that divinizes the soul.” …. To be sure, union with God is the primary goal of the science, and Stein is careful to highlight Christ’s insistence that his followers “seek first the kingdom” (Mt 6:33). …. From this thoroughly theocentric point of departure, however, a horizontal dimension of charity also begins to emerge, and the science of the cross completes its cruciform structure.

For Stein, worship must indeed precede ethics; love of God ranks before love of neighbor. At the same time, the two maxims are not competitive in her thinking, but rather complementary. Love of God is incarnated through the love of neighbor; theomimesis is ever a communal affair. Stein is emphatic: “Self-fulfillment, union with God, and laboring for the union of others with God and for their self-fulfillment belong inseparably together.” …. Through the power of the cross, the people of God are gathered into one and bonded together in perfect charity. In their shared participation in Christ’s sufferings, the body of believers discover themselves in God and in one another: “And all the holy souls together form on their part a garland, which the bride-Church weaves together with Christ the Bridegroom.” ….

 

Conclusion

 

The finding in the temple is illustrative of the painful but life-giving role which the science of the cross must play in the life of the Christian. It is suggestive, too, of a distinctively theocentric humanism which is the hallmark of Stein’s thinking, and a possible interpretative key for unlocking her theological vision. Stein’s profound reflections on the cross present a challenge to modern man to ponder anew that mystery of mysteries: almighty and transcendent God nailed naked to a tree. For Stein, it is by taking this reality to heart that our conception of the human person is unalterably elevated. As such, an authentic humanism must begin and end with the divine; only then can the dignity of the human person be secured: “So the bridal union of the soul with God is the goal for which she was created, purchased through the cross, consummated on the cross and sealed for all eternity with the cross.” …. Divinization through suffering—theosis through kenosis—is the promise Christ extends to all mankind, and one in which we are invited to share. Herein lies Stein’s science of the cross, and the only reliable seedbed for an authentically Christian humanism.

….