St. Anselm of Canterbury on the Paradox of the Cross

The fundamental paradox of Christianity is the Cross. A reading for the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, Philippians 2:6-11, reveals the outlines of this paradox. This passage, known as “the Hymn to Christ,” is thought by many scholars to be a “pre-Pauline” hymn, sung, recited or chanted in the Church at Philippi, or elsewhere, even before its appearance in Paul’s letter in the late 50s of the first century. The paradox is early and central to the message of the Gospel:  the one who will save us will die the death of a slave or a criminal in utter agony.  Even more, as Paul proclaims, the one who will subject himself to this humiliation is God:

Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God something to be grasped.
Rather, he emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
coming in human likeness;
and found human in appearance,
he humbled himself,
becoming obedient to death,
even death on a cross.

Yet, by “coming in human likeness” and “becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross,”

Because of this, God greatly exalted him
and bestowed on him the name
that is above every name,
that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bend,
of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that
Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father.

So ubiquitous is the Cross in Christian imagery and practice, that the paradox is sometimes hidden away, lost to our consciousness. It has been accomplished and so “exaltation” not “cross” remains. St. Anselm of Canterbury reflected on the paradox, though, in his Meditation on Human Redemption and in it the weakness and power of the Cross and Christ are drawn powerfully:

But what strength is there in such weakness, what height in such lowliness? What is there to be venerated in such abjection? Surely something is hidden by this weakness, something is concealed by this humility. There is something mysterious in this abjection. O hidden strength: 'a man hangs on a cross and lifts the load of eternal death from the human race; a man nailed to wood looses the bonds of everlasting death that hold fast the world. O hidden power: a man condemned with thieves saves men condemned with devils, a man stretched out on the gibbet draws all men to himself. O mysterious strength: one soul coming forth from torment draws countless souls with him out of hell, a man submits to the death of the body and destroys the death of souls.

Good Lord, living Redeemer, mighty Savior, why did you conceal such power under such humility? Was it that you might deceive the devil, who by deceiving man had thrown him out of paradise? But truth deceives no one. He who is ignorant or does not believe the truth, deceives himself, and whoever sees the truth and hates or despises it, deceives himself. But truth itself deceives no one. Or was it so that the devil might deceive himself? No, even as truth deceives no one, so it does not mean anyone to deceive himself, although when it permits this it might be said to do so. You did not assume human nature to conceal what was known of yourself, but to reveal what was not known. You declared yourself to be true God; by what you did you showed yourself to be true man. The thing was itself a mystery, not made mysterious. It was not done like this so that it might be hidden, but so that it might be accomplished in the way ordained.

John W. Martens

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