“Veiled in flesh the Godhead see”

A dear friend recently converted from Protestantism to Eastern Orthodoxy. As one of his reasons for doing so he cited the rich conception that the early church fathers had of the Incarnation and how this was not simply the logical precondition of salvation but a constituent part of the same. The Son did not simply become flesh so that He might live in obedience to the law, die, and rise again. His very act of incarnation was itself part of the gospel, not merely its preface.

I have thought about this point a lot in the buildup to Christmas, particularly in light of another, broader happening of recent years: the recovery of classical theology for the contemporary church. Classical theology is a term for the kind of sophisticated articulation of the doctrine of God and of Christ found in the Nicene Creed of 381 and the Chalcedonian Formula of 451. These documents assert the triunity of God and the reality of Christ as fully God and fully man in one person.

The primary problem with such theology for many Protestants is not so much its content as the language in which it is typically couched. The terms “substance” and “hypostasis” or “nature” and “person” tilt toward the abstract. They seem too distant from the plain narratives of the Gospels. They do not touch the heart as do the notions of sin and grace and forgiveness and resurrection.

And this is where Christmas comes in. This is not simply because the business of Christmas is the Incarnation. It is because the hymnody that clusters around Christmas represents some of the most profound, brilliant, and moving liturgical expressions of this rich, classical Christology. Take, for example, the second verse and refrain of “O Come, All Ye Faithful”:

God of God, Light of Light, / lo, He abhors not the virgin’s womb; / very God, begotten not created. / O come, let us adore Him, / O come, let us adore Him, / O come, let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!

First, this is nothing more than the theology of the Nicene Creed, echoing its very terms. Second, notice the result: the call to adoration. This is not abstract speculation. It terminates in ecstatic, exultant praise. I would argue there is no more powerful argument for classical theology than its connection to doxology, indeed, its inseparability from doxology. And what better way to make that point than the corporate singing of such theology in such a glorious hymn?

Or take the example of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.” Here is the second verse and refrain:

Christ, by highest heaven adored, / Christ, the everlasting Lord, / late in time behold him come, / offspring of the Virgin’s womb: / veiled in flesh the Godhead see; / hail th’incarnate Deity, / pleased with us in flesh to dwell, / Jesus, our Immanuel. / Hark! the herald angels sing, / “Glory to the newborn King.”

Again, this is beautiful classical theology. Christ’s eternal Godhead is declared but then connected to the fragility of the incarnate flesh that “veils” His deity. The beautiful contrast between who Christ is in eternity and how He manifests Himself in His humanity is striking and expressed with a memorably poetic phrase. And again this terminates in praise as we who sing echo the words of the heavenly choir.

This brings me to reflect both upon my friend’s disillusionment with Protestantism and upon the opportunities of Christmas. Sadly, I believe he is correct that Protestant theology has too often a thin Christology or one reduced to an instrumental incarnation that simply enables the real saving acts to take place. But I also believe that Protestantism has the resources to address this problem. And chief among these are the hymns of the Christmas season.

I am aware that some, especially from Protestant traditions with roots in Puritanism, can be very wary about anything that smacks of the liturgical calendar. I used to have such instincts myself. But if you have such qualms and therefore avoid the great incarnational hymns of the faith during December, the question to ask is: Am I missing an opportunity to learn about the depth and breadth of the Christian understanding of the Savior as Incarnate God? More than that, am I inadvertently impoverishing my theological imagination in a way that misses the awe-inspiring reality of the eternal God manifesting Himself in the flesh?

Christmas hymns are some of the great seasonal gifts from the saints of the past to the church of today. Let us joyfully revel in them as we see once again in the dark days of winter the light of the Godhead veiled in flesh.

—Carl R. Trueman is a professor at Grove City College and a fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center