The hero of Douglas Farrow’s twenty-first-century book Ascension Theology (T & T Clark, 2011) is the second-century bishop of Lyons, St. Irenaeus. This was Farrow’s second treatise on a doctrine which is commonly either neglected or misrepresented. In Farrow’s view, both neglect and misunderstanding are the result of a tendency to spiritualize Christ’s ascent, to deny the bodilyness of it. And so St. Irenaeus — the great adversary of Gnosticism — is also a great defender of a rich and consequential belief in the Ascension.
“It will help here to understand just a little of the Irenaean critique of gnosticism. Asserting the native divinity of their own intellects, and ungraciously refusing the creaturely formation they had been given, the gnostics were hoping to recover their lost primal unity with God. But this, according to the bishop, was something they had never had. As a matter of fact, they were only repeating — and magnifying — the mistake made long ago in the garden by Adam and Eve. By rejecting the incarnation of God’s Word, and denying themselves the gift of the Holy Spirit, the gnostics were stubbornly thrusting away the very hands by which God gradually moulds human beings for union and communion with himself. Spurning the church as the present site of that moulding, and despising the heritage of Israel with her scriptures and covenants, these pretentious individuals were not actually climbing upward to salvation but sinking downward into an abyss of futility. They had no knowledge (γνωσις) at all of the patient and wise plan of God for human deification.
“So how did Irenaeus himself interpret the ascension within the context of a sound doctrine of deification? The first and most important thing to be said is that he interpreted it in trinitarian terms. Read backwards from Pentecost, the whole biblical story of man’s creation and redemption seemed to demand a trinitarian interpretation, which went something like this: The uniqueness of man among God’s creatures consists in the fact that he is uniquely formed by the Word and the Spirit for communion with the Father. In man alone the Word himself becomes incarnate, that human beings may behold God and live; in man, as in a temple, the Spirit of God comes to dwell. As already observed, man’s fall consists in his rejection of the training for communion which is essential to the process of his formation. For God long ago ‘bestowed the faculty of increase on his own creation, and called him upwards from lesser things to the greater ones which are in his own presence, just as he brings an infant which has been conceived in the womb into the light of the sun.’ But this faculty was not exercised; the Word from the beginning was mistreated, the Spirit ill received, the discipline of creation resisted. The wonderful message of the gospel, however, tells of the Word’s persistence — of his pursuit of fallen man into the bondage of sin and death, in order personally to reacquaint him, at every stage of his existence and in every facet of his being, with the Holy Spirit. When this pursuit has taken him as far as the cross on Golgotha, and into death itself, his resurrection completes the conditions for the realization of God’s interrupted anthropological project; to wit, ‘that man, having embraced the Spirit of God, might pass into the glory of the Father’.
“Ascension, in other words, is deification, and deification nothing but the fulfillment of man’s creation. It is not a return to the eternal past after an unhappy episode in time. It is the setting of man, once and for all, within the open horizons of the trinitarian life and love, where he may flourish and be fruitful in perpetuity. Whether in Jesus’ case or in ours — mutatis mutandis, of course — it is a transformative relocation by the Spirit into the inexhaustible Lebensraum generated for us through full communion with the Father.
For man does not see God by his own powers; but when he pleases he is seen by men, by whom he wills, and when he wills, and as he wills. For God is powerful in all things, having been seen . . . indeed prophetically through the Spirit, and seen, too, adoptively through the Son; and he shall also be seen paternally in the kingdom of heaven, the Spirit truly preparing man in the Son of God, and the Son leading him to the Father, while the Father, too, confers incorruption for eternal life, which comes to everyone from the fact of his seeing God. For as those who see the light are within the light, and partake of its brilliancy; even so, those who see God are in God, and receive of his splendour.
“Mutatis mutandis, I say, because the divine light itself is mediated by the one man who belongs by nature rather than by adoption to the divine economy. He it is who gives definition to this living-space, who centres its boundless horizons in a way appropriate to creatures. It is by way of his passage into the Father’s glory that a passage is also opened for us.”
A bit later in this early chapter of the book, Farrow observes that the Gnostic heretics were in need of a proper demythologization (a process associated in the twentieth century with theologian Rudolf Bultmann, who infamously declared: “We cannot use electric lights and radios and, in the event of illness, avail ourselves of modern medical and clinical means and at the same time believe in the spirit and wonder world of the New Testament.” Farrow — echoing Irenaeus — insists that we must insist that the spirit and wonder world of the New Testament is anything but mythical.
“Now Irenaeus had never heard of Bultmann, naturally, and certainly had never listened to a radio or seen pictures of Mars on television. Yet we would be quite wrong to imagine that . . . he was oblivious to the problem of mythology. Just the reverse. From his perspective, it was his gnostic opponents who were clinging stubbornly to mistaken and outmoded assumptions (learned largely from the Greek philosophers) about the universe. The trouble with ‘these perverse mythologists’, he complained, was precisely that they twisted the gospel narrative to fit those assumptions. Instead of allowing what happened with Jesus to correct and reform their world view, they allowed the latter to correct and reform what could be said about Jesus. That is why they could not tolerate either the doctrine of the incarnation or the apostolic testimony to bodily resurrection and ascension. For his part, following the gospel narrative — especially in its Lukan form, the form later enshrined by the Chapel of the Ascension — allowed Irenaeus to challenge the reigning orthodoxy in Hellenic cosmology. Heaven was not opposed to earth, and creatures of flesh and blood had real hope of heaven. For the heavenly shepherd, who descended to seek out God’s lost sheep, also ascended ‘to the height above, offering and commending to his Father that human nature which had been found, making in his own person the first-fruits of the resurrection of man’. Here we observe an entirely different tack from that afterwards taken by Origen, for whom the gates of heaven remained closed to the flesh, even to the flesh of Christ. Irenaeus plainly thought it impossible to overthrow gnosticism without fully affirming the flesh, and with it all the rich diversity of the spatio-temporal world whose creator the gnostics had maligned. He was not shy about saying that the whole man, not a part of man, is rendered participant in the divine nature. It was his considered judgement, in fact, that those who refuse to allow that the whole man provides the substance of Christ’s offering in heaven fall into the same error as those who deny that the whole man constituted his offering on earth. Likewise, those who do not allow that the bodies of the righteous are to be resurrected as beneficiaries of that offering ‘entertain heretical opinions’, even if they are otherwise regarded as orthodox. As for the gnostics, opined the bishop, they entertain a kind of homicidal mania, for their thoroughgoing rejection of the body (and of its present faithful suffering) encourages and promotes the abortion of that spiritual humanity which God in Christ is bringing to birth.”
— from Douglas Farrow, Ascension Theology (T & T Clark, 2011)