Flavius Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator

Next comes: Why hast Thou forsaken me? The word why is known to introduce a question; so the Master of consubstantial wisdom, the Spokesman of the Father is so confused by the impending death of His flesh that in apparent ignorance He asks the Father why He has been abandoned by Him. These and similar expressions seek to express His humanity, but we must not believe that divinity was absent to Him even at the passion, since the apostle says: “If they. had known, they would never have crucified the Lord of glory” (1 Cor. 2:8). Though He was impassible, He suffered through the humanity which He assumed, and which could suffer. He was immortal, but He died; He never dies, but He rose again. On this topic, Father Cyril expressed this beautiful thought: “Through the grace of God He tasted death for all, surrendering His body though by nature He was life and the resurrection of the dead” (Ep. 17). Similarly blessed Ambrose says: “He both suffered and did not suffer, died and did not die, was buried and was not buried, rose again and did not rise again” (On the Incarnation of the Lord 5.36).

The number of this psalm, however, contains other mysteries of heavenly matters; for after the prophet Daniel had continually offered prayer to the Lord for three weeks so that he could ascertain what would become of the people Israel, the reply came by the voice of an angel. He said that he had been sent at Daniel’s first prayers, but had been delayed by grappling with the devil, and had been able to come down to him only on the twenty-first day to be able to answer his prayers (Dan. 10:2ff.). So this psalm too is seen to have been appropriately endowed with this number, for having destroyed the devil’s malevolence it unlocked the gifts of the healing passion, by the benefit of which the human race was freed from eternal death, and attained the gifts of enduring salvation.

We are sustained by the saints and trail our thoughts behind the truths of others. ~Robert Louis Wilken, The Spirit of Early Christian Thought (a GREAT book, by the way!)

In these books, I commend not my own teaching but the words of the ancients, which are rightly praised and gloriously proclaimed to future generations. ~Cassiodorus, Institutiones Divinarum et Saecularium Litterarum

Notice that all the schemes [i.e., all various “options” put forth] hinge on a common assumption: that finding a way forward in our times should begin by recalling the examples of the saints, be they ancient or modern.

All of these programs display what Robert Louis Wilken, in his superb 2003 book The Spirit of Early Christian Thought, argues is “one of the most distinctive features of Christian intellectual life”: “a kind of quiet confidence in the faithfulness and integrity of those who have gone before.” As Wilken further observes, “memory is essential for Christian thinking,” for Christian thinking begins with memory—“with what has been received.” The deposit begins with Scripture, of course, but it doesn’t end there. Our inheritance also includes teachings of “those who have gone before” about “how to use such words as God, Spirit, hope, grace, sin, forgiveness.” Each of the options discussed above is just such an effort to sift the church’s history for guidance. If Wilken is right about how Christians think, as I believe he is, then we can say that the option-makers are doing what Christians have always done when they would think deeply about a problem—“beginning with what has been received.”

Before “what has been received” can be pondered, though, it must first come into our hands. That is, it must be written down, drawn up, passed around, and taken to heart. This is what I’m calling the “Cassiodorus Necessity,” the equally vital labors of custodians to transmit Christian intellectual culture and those of the rising generation to receive it. Transmission is rarely glamorous work. It’s often conducted in quiet corners by a lone novice reading a book, writing an essay, or translating a passage. It happens when a librarian catalogues a collection. It occurs when a teacher gathers with students around a table for conversation. It’s easy to take for granted.