“What is truth?”– St. John 18:38
Three small words. Yet on them hinged the fate of an entire created order.
The answer given was that of relativism, of an epistemological humility so prevaricating it comes across in the scriptural narrative as almost embarrassing. We know from St. Paul’s epistle to the Romans that “all things work together unto the good.” Yet let us consider, if we may, what if the answer to this question had been different? What if the phrase had been not what is truth but rather what truth is? Arguably the worst crime in the history of creation — Deicide, the killing of a creator by His creations — could have been prevented.
Certain modern intellectuals like Aldous Huxley have attempted to convince their hearers that the pursuit of truth is vain, foolish, impossible. Yet this skepticism is far from a modern phenomenon: as a denial of absolutes, it stems from the first known instance in recorded history — that initial sin of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. This watershed moment had two key effects — one, the corruption of the natural order which up to that point was in a state of perfect harmony — and two, the corruption of man, the moral agent who initiated this destruction by his rejection of the divine order in which he was created to participate.
In examining the Genesis account and comparing it with St. John’s Passion narrative, we observe an interesting pattern of interaction between the two accounts. In one case, we see the denial of God’s Truth (embodied by His commands) by Adam leading to sin, death, and destruction. In the other, we witness the denial of the Truth of God, Jesus Christ by Pilate, and how through the sin, destruction, and death which befell the only-begotten Son of God, redemption was purchased for humanity. Such a striking distinction is paramount to our Christian belief. To paraphrase Tertullian’s De Carne Christi, it is altogether a credible thing, because it is absurd. It is certain, precisely because it appears impossible.
The restoration of this proper order was possible, then, only through a unique duality: a compassion so great it could extend to a sin so severe and an embodiment of Truth so perfect that His sacrifice could repair the order of nature and grace that was marred by that sin. Hence it is that which St. Irenaeus frames this central motif of redemption around for us in the terms of the garden:
“The last Adam, that is, Christ, has restored to us the image of God, which we had lost through the first Adam.”
The parallel between the Genesis narrative and St. John’s account of the passion amounts to more than a mere reversal of effect — it represents in a true sense of the word a redemptio, an λύτρον, as Christ tells us in the gospel of St. Matthew.
We see this particular contrast play out when the Genesis narrative is compared with the words of Pontius Pilate. In both instances, we have a magistrate in a sense — God has supreme dominion over all creation, and Pilate also appears to possess some delegation of this divine authority, for as Christ tells him earlier, “Thou shouldst not have any power against me unless it were given to thee from above.”
The parallels, however, go deeper. The words of the authority concerning the two subjects — Adam and Jesus — are eerily similar. In Eden, God says “Behold Adam.” In the Praetorium, Pilate proclaims, “Behold the Man.” In Genesis, God continues, man has “made himself like unto Us.” In the Praetorium, Pilate confronts Jesus with the statement of His accusers, “according to the law he ought to die, because he made himself the Son of God.” The pattern evolves. In Genesis, God condemns Adam for his action, stating that he now possesses knowledge of Good and Evil. However, in the case of Christ, we see the opposite.
Turning to the Praetorium, we see Christ standing blameless before His accusers. He asks,
“If I have spoken evil, give testimony of the evil, but if not, why strikest thou me?”
In Genesis, we see God cautioning Adam not to take hold of the Tree of Life. In Jesus’ case, however, we see a fascinating corollary: In the courtyard of the Praetorium, we see Jesus take hold of His cross, bearing it on to the place of execution. St. John of Damascus beautifully contrasts these two passages in poetic manner: “The tree of life which was planted by God in Paradise pre-figured this precious Cross. For since death was by a tree, it was fitting that life and resurrection should be bestowed by a tree.”
Turning back to Genesis, we see God further warn Adam that he shall “no longer live forever.” However, we see in the words of Christ a stunning about-face. In response to the contrition of the repentant thief hanging on the cross next to Him, Christ answers, “Amen I say to thee, this day thou shalt be with me in paradise.” This contrast of expressions perfectly sums up Christ’s redemptive action, for it demonstrates the key difference between the condition of man in his fallen state, and the opportunity he now has for redemption through Christ’s sacrifice.
In consideration of these multiple parallels between the Genesis and Passion narratives, one other phrase of Scripture seems particularly applicable. In Mel Gibson’s monumental movie “The Passion of the Christ,” during the scene in which Christ falls under the weight of His cross for the third time, He turns to His mother and says to her, “behold, I make all things new.” This line originates in Apocalypse 21:5, but it fits perfectly in this context as well, for it denotes for our examination in particular, the purposeful correlation — indeed the fulfillment of the Old Testament in the New. For, as St. Paul teaches us, “by the disobedience of one man, many were made sinners; so also by the obedience of one, many shall be made just.”
Considered in the context of the question of Truth, the question once again becomes twofold, for we have before us two different species of the same Truth. The first is the truth of the situation, which both we and Pilate have before us: Alike, we can see the unjust treatment of Christ and the falsity of the claims against Him.
Unlike us, however, Pilate also had an incarnational encounter with Christ, whom St. John assures us “is the Truth,” and yet he still doubted — and his doubt led to the greatest crime ever to occur on the face of this earth. Let us, therefore, learn from these principles, having always in our minds the words of Christ, “Everyone that is of the Truth heareth My voice.”
