Ignatius of Antioch, tradition holds, was a direct disciple of John the Evangelist–one of Jesus’s twelve disciples. He lived from  c. 35 to 107, when he was put to death in Rome for his faith. Numerous letters that Ignatius wrote have been preserved to this day, and he is credited as the first author to ever use the phrase, “the catholic church,” to refer to a worldwide collection of Christians. He is not to be confused with the founder of the Jesuits, Ignatius of Loyola.

That said, Ignatius held a fascinating, if not stupefying, conviction about the interplay between God and the devil. According to Butler, Ignatius averred that “God concealed from the devil three mysteries: the virginity of Mary, her bringing forth, and the death of the Lord . . . .” Ignatius’s statement offers precious little illumination, and is indeed an opportunity to give scope to our imaginations (with due acknowledgment of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne).

Jonathan Z. Smith (who just died this past December 2017), one of the most influential historians of religion in my own awareness, maintained that it is a primary task of all students seeking to unlock the meanings of religions is to struggle with the question of “Why this and not that?” Why circumcision rather than a pierced ear? Why a hat for divination and not a bag? Why Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.. and not Thomas? Why cast bones instead of pebbles? Why earth, air, fire, and water, but not metal? Why eagle feathers and not turkey feathers? Why virgins instead of women of experience as a reward for male, heterosexual martyrs?

So why these three mysteries to conceal, instead of, say, turning water into wine or the gifts of the magi or the resurrection? Certainly, the proposition that a woman who had never had sexual intercourse gave become pregnant is well beyond the pale of humanistic reasoning. And that a human could give birth to a god, likewise, is a very intense mystery. So too is the proposition that a god could be “killed dead” by human beings. Upon reflection, the latter is perhaps even more amazing than that a god and burst forth from a tomb.

My nephew, Nick, comprehends the comic book universes (and multi-verses) well beyond anyone I know. He is not a Christian nor a theologian, so when I presented why it might be useful for a devil-type character to be screened from these mysteries, he suggested the following–that, had the devil known of the virginity of Mary, he could have impacted the process of the coming-to-being of Christ; had the devil known of the birth, he could have been present to turn that child to the dark side, impacting the product, as it were; and had the devil known of the Lord’s death, he could have discovered the means to kill the other two persons of the Trinity.

Somehow, I think that Ignatius would have thought more of Zeus, Neptune, or Ba’al, than the eventual doctrinal formulations proceeding from Chalcedon or Nicea, and may well have shared more of Nick’s apprehension of Jesus’s “godness” than the later catholic church could embrace.

Just some thoughts to kick off February.