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Anselm on Personhood and the Incarnation

“Long lay the world in sin and error pining.

In the philosophical and theological literature, much has been said about the nature of Christ and his
soteriological and eschatological role. Notably, these roles are uniquely tied to the doctrine of the
Incarnation. Often, however, we are given to theological confusion when we assess the conditions of
the Incarnation (not to mention the Trinity itself). This confusion is partly justified, for like the Trinity
the Incarnation is a mystery proper: A revealed doctrine which is beyond the power of reason to
sufficiently demonstrate. Still, the predominant view of the Church Fathers is that such doctrines, while
not formally demonstrable, are themselves coherent and rationally defens-ible, insofar as they are true.
Athanasius, Augustine and others laid a steady analytical foundation for the later scholastics concerning
this topic, and shaped what the Church considers to be her official doctrine on such matters. Hence, not
only can we claim de fide but also argue that God became incarnate—the Word became flesh—and that
this being is Jesus Christ, the Son of God—fully human. Yet the Son of God is also the 2nd person of the
Trinity, and the 2nd person of the Trinity is God—fully God.

The average Christian can stop at this point, satisfied at directly having affirmed the Nicene Creed, and
hopefully having dodged Arianism. Still, this explanation of the dual nature of Christ raises a curious
philosophical question, though we often fail to appreciate it: Why is Jesus the Son of God?

“What do you mean?” You might ask. “He just is. That’s what we find in scripture. It’s just the way
God did it.”

Now as a theist I am perfectly sympathetic with that response, humbled and frightened by the possibility
of even questioning the divine nature. Yet as a philosopher I pray that God will pardon my curiosity,
only insofar as I want to understand and ask questions about what others have said about these matters.
So to help wade through the initial ambiguity of the question, let us consider it from another angle: Is it
possible that Jesus could have been the Holy Spirit made flesh, or even the Father?

Curious, yes? Why did the Son, that is, the 2nd person of the Trinity, become incarnate, and not one of
the other persons of the Trinity? One initially might believe that since God is omnipotent, the
Incarnation could have happened quite differently (or not at all). What sort of difference would it make,
really? While our common theology goes on its merry-Christmas-way sorting out these notions post
Incarnation, St. Anselm of Canterbury has offered us some curious and enlightening explanations—
reasons!—for why “God assumed human being into a unity of person with the Son rather than into a
unity with either of the other persons.”1 Anselm’s writing on the Incarnation is diverse, but I will be
focusing my attention on three pivotal works: De Concordia (DC), Cur Deus Homo (CDH), and his
Letter On the Incarnation of the Word. (IW)

In order to give Anselm’s arguments their due, we will have to presume a few theological items of
orthodox Trinitarianism and the Incarnation. The first is simple: God is one. The second is not so
simple: God is Triune. Theologically, we mean that God is three persons but only one substance
(consubstantial). Further, the persons of God are said to be non-identical, hence the relations that hold
1
Anselm, On the Incarnation of the Word, Ch. 10. Unless otherwise stated, all quotations of Anselm will come from Basic
Writings, edited & translated by Thomas Williams (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 2007).
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among the persons of the Trinity are at best asymmetric. As Athanasius has affirmed, we say that the
Father is God, the Son is God, and the Holy Spirit is God (consubstantial), yet the Father is not the Son,
etc. (non-identical). Thirdly, given the asymmetry of the relations in the Godhead, we believe that in
the incarnation God assumes humanity into a unity of person, not nature. So in Christ, there is one
person, and two natures. For example, Christ shares the same nature with the Father, but not the same
personhood. Hence, in the incarnation, humanity is not assumed into the substance of God. The
relations that are established in the divine persons are real, essential and distinct, then, but do not
fragment the divine substance in any way.

(A) The Necessity of the Incarnation

The first piece of the puzzle concerns the initial reason for the Incarnation itself. In anticipation of a
philosophical explanation for the Incarnation, St. Anselm puts forth a complex argument in DC, the
intent of which is to demonstrate the relationship between grace and freedom. For our purposes, I will
offer the streamlined version of his argument. In the beginning, human beings were created in a state of
original justice, meaning that they willed freely in accordance with God’s intention and design; they
originally chose what God desired for them. Anselm understands this “justice” of the will as a property
or faculty the will has, which is designed to help guide the agent towards its proper end. This property,
however, is not an inalienable, indefeasible feature of the will. Justice is a divine gift, and like any gift
it can be given away. Now for whatever reason, by their own free will, humans gave away and thus
“lost” this original justice or rectitude of the will. Though much analysis and speculation has been made
about the reasoning behind Adam and Eve’s actions, in principle we can determine that they exchanged
their original justice for the “knowledge of good and evil”—the ability to decide for themselves what
was good for them, independently of God’s will. They willed that “their will be done, as beholden to no
one” which is clearly incompatible with the claim “Thy (God’s) will be done.” Such a willing is not
only incompatible with the divine will, but is a direct affront to it. So having lost rectitude of the will—
literally, having exchanged it for something else—human beings became incapable of personally
restoring favor with God, even by a well-intentioned free act of the will. That is to say, even if they
desired to have original justice returned to them, they could not have willed to obtain what they did not
have anymore, nor could they “demand back” what they freely gave away. Hence, only the grace or
“gifting back” of God can save humans, that is, return them to a state of justice, or rectitude of will.

What we see from this basic picture of the Fall is that though grace is indeed necessary for human
salvation, it is not sufficient in the case of rational creatures. Adam and Eve could have kept their
original justice; it was in their power to do so. Yet they also, as we have seen, had the power to freely
abandon it. In cases where creatures have use of reason and will, “[God’s] grace always assists their
natural free choice, without which grace is powerless to attain salvation, by giving their wills the
rectitude that they preserve through free choice.” (DC 3.3, 377) So freedom of the will and God’s grace
are compatible and jointly necessary for the salvation of humans, Anselm argues. Salvation comes
about neither by grace alone nor free will alone.

For the next piece of the puzzle we turn to Anselm’s pivotal essay, Cur Deus Homo. There, Anselm
asks a straightforward question: “By what reason or necessity did God become a human being?” (CDH
I.1, 245) Though the entirety of the work is dedicated to resolving this question, we will focus in on
only a few key elements. Again, a simplification is in order. Given our earlier analysis of the Fall, we
can understand why Anselm emphasizes in CDH that the salvation of humans (reconciliation with God)
is not possible without reparation from the effects of sin. One of these immediate effects, recall, is the
loss of original justice, or rectitude of the will. Divine justice, moreover, mandates that such effects
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cannot be eliminated by an act of divine mercy alone. 2 Though divine mercy is something over and
above justice, it cannot contradict it, and since sin in humans originated through both an incompatibility
with and an affront to the divine will, the blatant injustice committed against God in original sin
requires compensation, either by punishment or reparation. God in his goodness, however, wills that all
humans be saved, and desires to complete what he began in human nature. Yet humans have nothing
naturally to offer God by way of compensation. Any injustice to God is infinite, so the price is quite
high, beyond our ken. If compensation were to take place, then, it would have to be done by a human
on behalf of humans—a substance with a human nature—yet who was in some way naturally (or
supernaturally) able to pay such a price. This human would not only have to possess original justice—
true and unwavering obedience to God—yet also would have to exemplify a free and loving willingness
to do whatever it took to restore the fact that the claim “Thy will be done,” should be held inviolate, in
order to restore what was damaged through original sin. This can only be done by the God-man,
Anselm concludes, the Word made flesh.

Although there are many of the above details upon which we can expound, clarify, or further analyze,
what I’d like to preserve for Anselm is the connection here between the Incarnation and the necessity of
compensation. If Anselm is correct, then it was necessary for God to become incarnate—assuming that
the redemption of humanity was to take place at all. In philosophy, we call this a hypothetical necessity.
It was not absolutely necessary that God redeem humanity, it appears. Only divine mercy initiated that
event. Yet if God is to redeem humanity, then Anselm believes that God could not have done it
differently.

(B) Only One Incarnation, Please

Let us recapitulate: Humans messed up, so a human had to fix it. The damage was done to God, so only
an infinite being could repair it. Nonetheless, only God is infinite, hence we have the Incarnation. A
few chapters later, Anselm takes the necessity argument one step further. In our theological musings,
we believe that although God became incarnate, only the Son did so; neither the Father nor the Holy
Spirit are incarnate also. Well, why not? For Anselm, a unitary incarnation is not simply a de facto
claim. It is impossible for more than one person of the Trinity to assume a human nature at the same
time. The other two persons of the Trinity—though they all share substantially in the Godhead—do not
and cannot share in the Son’s Incarnation.

Anselm’s reasons for this position are profound, but terribly cryptic. In CDH he just asserts that “it is
not possible for more than one person to assume one and the same human being into unity of person, so
it is necessary that this be done in one person only.” (CDH II.9, 297) For most of us this is hardly an
explanation at all, much less an argument. Yet if we refer back to IW, Anselm hammers through the
following enthymeme:

It is unintelligible for distinct divine persons to be one and the same person as one and
the same human being. For if one human being is one person with each of a plurality of
persons, it is necessary that a plurality of persons that are distinct from one another are
one and the same person, which is impossible. For this reason, once God is incarnate
according to any one person, it is impossible for him to be incarnate also according to
another person. (IW 9, 227-228)

2
That is, by a pure act of forgiveness. We ought not, Anselm warns, confuse the mercy of God as seen in the Incarnation and
the redemptive act—which is necessary if reparation is to be made for original sin and to satisfy divine justice—with some pure act of
mercy in abstracta, or even in relation to human affairs. God commands us to be unconditionally merciful so that “we will not arrogate
to ourselves what belongs to God alone. For the right to exact vengeance belongs only to the one who is Lord of all.” ( CDH I.12, 263)
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Unfortunately, this argument is not much more helpful, and he gives us no further explanation to work
with. I have called it an enthymeme because in order to make it palpable, we have to reveal or explicate
some hidden premises or assumptions. So let’s try to lay out Anselm’s argument a bit more carefully.
According to orthodox Christian theology:

1. God is one. Also,

This is the point behind the “plurality of persons” phrase above, I think. We can now set up a reductio
ad absurdem argument on Anselm’s behalf. Take the following assumption:

3. Suppose that the Father and the Son can both become incarnate (at the same time).
4. If the Father and the Son can both become incarnate, then either the Father and the Son would
become two distinct human beings or they would become the same human being.

Analytically, these appear to be the only two options. Anselm wants us to understand that neither
option is acceptable, however:

5. If the Father and the Son become distinct human beings, then each human being would not only be
a distinct person (individual) but also a distinct substance, which is impossible to the divine nature.

Two human beings implies two separate substances. In this way, the divine nature would divide itself
substantially via the dual incarnation, which is contradictory to the view that God is one in premise 1.

6. Further, if the Father and the Son become the same human being, then the Father and the Son
would become the same person, i.e., the same incarnate being with two natures.

This premise—to my limited understanding—captures what Anselm means by the second sentence
above in the quotation. Now why would this be a problem? We see initially that the divine nature
would not be fragmented in substance, since there would be only one human being—one Christ—and
yet it would have two natures, both human and divine. It appears on first blush that this is no more
problematic than a single incarnation.

Anselm’s worry, however, revolves around the issue of personhood, particularly the non-identical,
asymmetric relations that hold among the persons. Were it the case that the Father and the Son became
the same person—the same substance, the same human being, Christ—then we would lose the essential
distinctions that hold among the plurality of the divine persons. The Father and the Son are two persons
and not one, and so cannot enter into a relationship to become one person via incarnation. That is a
metaphysical version of modalism, which is clearly unorthodox and impossible for Christian theism:

7. If the Father and the Son became the same person, then they would not remain distinct persons in
the divine nature, which is impossible.

So if neither horn of the consequent in premise 4 is possible, then it follows that our supposition in
premise 3 is false:

8. Thus, the Father and the Son cannot both become incarnate.

If Anselm is correct in his analysis, this argument would also work for any mixture of the persons of the
Trinity, ceteris paribus.
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(C) Only the Son Can Become Incarnate

At last, we come to the focus of the main question: Why is Jesus the Son of God? To be sure, Anselm’s
Trinitarian analysis grounding the Incarnation has been complex. Human nature requires salvation, a
salvation prompted by an inordinate act against the divine nature itself. Reparation can only come by
means of the Incarnation, and this event is conditioned to a unitary incarnation in virtue of the real
distinctions in the Godhead. What we are to finally accept is this: Not only is it necessary that only one
of the persons of the Trinity can become incarnate at one time, but it is not fitting for either the Father
or the Holy Spirit to become incarnate at all. Anselm proposes that only the Son could have assumed a
human nature.

Three arguments are offered by Anselm to demonstrate the “fittingness” of the Incarnation as attributed
to the 2nd person of the Trinity alone.3 The first argument, we will see, relies more on certain Trinitarian
principles so has the flavor of a necessity argument, while the latter two are more appropriately called
“fittingness” arguments, intentionally crafted for plausibility and reasonableness.

a. Inequality of Internal Relations

Anselm’s first argument for this thesis is the most complex, and focuses on the internal relations of the
Trinity. Recall that the persons of God are said to be consubstantial, but not identical. Being
consubstantial, there is an essential equality among the persons of the Trinity. Although the Father is
not identical with the Son at the level of personhood, the Father is equal to the Son in terms of power
and divinity. Neither person is seen as “better” or “more important” than the other in the Godhead. The
same observation can be made for the Holy Spirit. Anselm attempts to capitalize on this truth in the
following way:

9. Suppose that the Holy Spirit could become incarnate (instead of the Son).
10. If the Holy Spirit could become incarnate, then there would be two sons in the divine Trinity: the
Son of God, and the “son” of a human being.

Anselm does not explicate the nature of divine Sonship in terms of being begotten in this argument, so
we will try to leave it out for now. Rather, Anselm considers Sonship as a relation, one that is truthfully
said of Jesus, both with regard to his divine nature (as the Son of God) and with regard to his human
nature (son of Mary). If we are to remain faithful to orthodox Trinitarianism, we have to regard the
Sonship of the 2nd person of the Trinity as an essential Sonship, one that describes the Son’s essence,
which is his nature. The Son was, is and always will be God, and did not become God or even a Son by
means of some event, temporal or otherwise. Since God the Son is essentially a Son, to become the son
of a human would not change anything about God, and does not pose a confusion of any sort, whether
by description or essence.4
3
All three are explained in both IW, Ch. 10 and CDH, Bk. II.9.
4
The interesting thing about most relations is that they are what we call “accidental,” insofar as they do not describe the
essence or nature of the substance in question, and usually imply a temporal complexity. For example, my own sonship in relation to
my parents is an accidental relation, because it implies a truth with regard to my parents that is not essential. All things being equal,
my parents would still have been the same substances or persons they are now, even if they had not had me for a son. In addition, their
having me for a son did not afterwards change their essence or nature. Sonship is only a particular way of regarding me now, in
relation to some other substances, namely, my parents. Further, we know that my parents became parents, and I became their son, in
virtue of a temporal event. The term “son” now describes me, in relation to them, and so became a component in a proper description
of me and my parents. It was added, so to speak, after some temporal fact or event.
Notably, not all relations are accidental, even for ordinary, mundane objects. For example, although we describe the number
12 as being even, it would hardly make sense to say that even is an accidental feature of the number 2, as if it could have been
otherwise. The relation of even, or being divisible by 2, appears to be an essential feature of the number 12, one that does not obtain by
means of some temporal event.
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The Holy Spirit fares differently, however. The Holy Spirit is not essentially a son, but would only
acquire this relation accidentally, when entering into relation with a human nature. Anselm find this
problematic for two reasons:

11. If there were two sons in the divine Trinity, then there would be confusion in our understanding of
the sonship of God.

This observation is not very compelling, and we might be able to pass over it in silence. It is unclear
whether we ought to regard this confusion as epistemological or metaphysical. Given the absolute
mystery of the divine nature, one more issue of epistemological complexity with regard to the Trinity
really would not matter on the theological front. At worst, there might have been a line change in the
Nicene Creed, and we would have happily memorized it instead of the current version. The next reason
Anselm offers is a bit more critical, and does draw out some kind of metaphysical notion:

12. Further, there would be an inequality between the divine persons.

What is at stake in this example is the relation between the Son and the Holy Spirit. For the Son is
essentially a son, a relation that expresses his divinity, while the Holy Spirit would be accidentally a
son, a relation that would express his humanity only. By comparison, the Sonship of the Son is a
“nobler birth” by nature than the sonship of the Holy Spirit. Were the Holy Spirit to have become
incarnate instead of the Son, a substantial inequality of the divine persons would result, “for the dignity
of being Son of God exceeds the dignity of being the son of a human being as much as the greatness of
divine nature exceeds the greatness of human nature.” (IW, 10, 228) Such a substantial inequality is
unacceptable in the divine nature, so cannot occur:

13. Yet the divine persons are equal in power and divinity.
14. Thus the Holy Spirit cannot become incarnate.

As with the argument discussed in section B above, Anselm believes that the same result would obtain if
the Father were substituted as well. Notice that this argument has the feel of a hypothetical necessity,
insofar as it appeals to absurdity or impossibility in order to draw its conclusion. When analyzed in the
context of certain Trinitarian assumptions, the argument is much stronger than it initially appears.

b. Fittingness of Prayer and Recompense

Anselm’s second and third arguments deal with issues of “fittingness” proper, and I shall give them only
brief attention. On the one hand, Anselm contends that the relationship of the Son to the Father is more
fitting at the level of prayer. Since the person who was to become incarnate was to pray for and redeem
the human race, it is more fitting that “the Son pray to the Father than for any other person to pray to
any other person.” (IW 10, 229) Though he does not explicate further in either work, Anselm is
supposing a divine suitability and internal ordering of the relations of the Trinity. Although the Son is
equal to the Father in power and divinity, the Son is eternally begotten of the Father, so in some sense
there is a fittingness for the begotten to appeal to the begetter, insofar as prayer—as a means of
communication—is done properly from the Word to that who “speaks” and “understands” it, namely the
Father.

On the other hand, Anselm observes that the act of salvation is more fitting when it is entrusted to the
person “to whom more particular injury was done.” (CDH II.9, 298) When humans (and the devil)
sinned against God, recall that they did so by asserting that their own will “be done,” hence taking on a
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false likeness to God. Yet is it only the prerogative of God to assert his own will, as subject to no one.
As being begotten of the Father, only the Son is a proper and true likeness of the Father. Thus, Anselm
posits that the first act of sin was directed primarily against the personhood of the Son, and if that is so,
then it is more fitting that the Son become incarnate, for “the one to whom more particular [or direct]
injury was done is the one to whom the punishment or pardon for that fault is more fittingly entrusted.”
(CDH II.9, 298)

Both of these fittingness arguments are interesting topically, but mundane in their approach. Unlike the
first argument, we can see that no internal necessity of the Godhead seems to require that only the Son
pray to the Father, or intercede on behalf of humans. Could the Holy Spirit have done it? It seems so
even for Anselm. Yet when coupled with Anselm’s prior Trinitarian analysis, and the necessity of the
Incarnation itself, the first argument concerning the inequality of the divine relations has the most
striking result: Jesus is the Son of God because only then can Jesus’ humanity properly and essentially
complement his divinity. The Son of God became incarnate in order to redeem humanity, and to show
us just how valuable humanity truly is to God. When Christ appeared, indeed, the soul felt its worth:
“And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as of the
Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth.” (John 1:14)

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Bio Line: Dr. Louis A. Mancha has been at Ashland University since the Fall of 2003. He is an
assistant professor of Philosophy, specializing in Medieval and Early Modern Philosophy, and
Philosophy of Religion. He received his Bachelor of Arts degree from Rice University, and both his
MA and PhD. from Purdue University. He currently resides in Ashland, OH, with his wife and four
children.