By Justin Rossow
The Apostles’ Creed, which started out as a series of questions and answers for people who were about to get baptized, appropriately starts out, “I believe …” When you are getting ready to be adopted into a family of faith, it makes sense for that profession of faith to be radically personal: “This is what I personally believe about God the Father, and about who Jesus is and what he did for me, and about the ongoing work of the Spirit in the world. I want to add may Amen to what the Church has been professing since the apostles!”
The Gospel is, in fact, radically personal. The Good Shepherd knows his sheep intimately and individually by name (John 10:27) and even leaves the ninety-nine for the sake of the one (Matt 18:12).
It must have been almost outrageous in the communal thinking of the time for King David to write: “The LORD is my shepherd … the LORD guides me beside the still waters” (Psalm 23). God’s people were used to thinking about salvation in terms of the whole people of God; David is bold to make that faith radically personal.
Jesus affirms this emphasis on the individual. He says there is more joy in heaven over one single individual who repents than over a crowd of righteous people who don’t need repentance (Luke 15:7). Jesus goes on to say that God’s Kingdom is like a woman who turns her whole house upside down searching and throws a party when she finds a single lost coin (Luke 15:8-9). Or like a pearl merchant who gives everything he has with joy for the sake of a single pearl (Matt 13:45-46).
At the end John’s Gospel, we see Jesus demonstrate the radically personal nature of discipleship: Jesus basically tells Peter: “Don’t you worry about that John guy; you (singular and emphatic)—YOU must follow me!” (John 21:22).
Saying the Apostles’ Creed affirms that radically personal characteristic of the Gospel. But the Gospel is also radically communal. You could go so far as to say that, while we are saved as individuals, we are also always saved as and into a community. It is not good for us to be alone. We follow Jesus better when we follow him together.
The same Good Shepherd who will leave the ninety-nine to save the one can describe his own mission as bringing in sheep (plural) so that there can be one collective flock (John 10:16).
It’s easy for us to miss the relational emphasis in the way Jesus talks; “you” (singular) and “you” (plural) sound the same in English. (And, of course, our culture is heavily skewed toward the individual, so the relational gets quickly overlooked.)
But if Jesus had grown up in the Deep South, you might have heard him say: “Come to me, all y’all who are weary, and I will give y’all rest” (Matt 11:28); or “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved y’all. Now all y’all remain in my love” (John 15:9); or even, “Y’all come, follow me, and I will make all y’all fishers of men” (Mark 1:17).
That emphasis on community is consistent with a Scripture where salvation is regularly talked about in communal terms. Faith is also radically relational.
If Mount Sinai had been in Southern Appalachia, you might have heard God say, “I will take all y’all as my own people, and I will be y’all’s God. Then y’all will know that I am the LORD y’all’s God, who brought all y’all out from under the yoke of the Egyptians” (Ex 6:7). To “be saved,” biblically speaking, is to be brought into a covenant community of people who all belong to God together, as together they rely on God’s promises. Saving faith is radically communal.
The same David who insists that the LORD is his shepherd, can also say: “He is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep (plural!) of his hand. Today, if y’all hear his voice, do not harden y’all’s hearts” (Psalm 95).
If the Apostle Paul had started life as Saul of Texas instead of Saul of Tarsus, you might have heard him say, “By grace are y’all saved, through faith” (Eph 2:8); or “God works in y’all, both to will and to do” (Phil 2:13); or even, “Y’all put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, y’all may be able to stand y’all’s ground, and after y’all have done everything, to stand” (Eph 6:13).
The same saving faith that is radically personal is at the same time radically relational and communal. You, yourself believe; but you never believe by yourself. That’s why I like the original version of the Nicene Creed.
The Nicene Creed I see used most often in congregations and hymnals today is based on an ancient Latin translation of the Greek text. That Latin version was also used as part of the baptism service, so it makes sense that it starts, “I believe …”
But the very first versions of the Nicene Creed were intended not as a baptismal formula but as a statement of what we all together believe to be true about the Christian faith. It was written in response to some people who were saying that Jesus isn’t actually God (but still a really important person). The Nicene Creed drew a line in the sand: here’s what we believe as Christians. You can believe something different, but then you aren’t actually a Christian any more…
So the original Greek version of the Nicene Creed says “We believe …” It had a different role in the Church than a personal profession of faith. It said what we all together believe about who Jesus is and what Jesus did for us.
[Side note: the “Nicene” Creed gets it’s name from the location of the original meeting called to try and delineate exactly what we all believe. That meeting was held in Nicaea in 325 AD, and therefore we call it the Nicene Creed. It was officially adopted in its final form in Constantinople in 381 AD, so we could technically call it the Nicaeno-Constantinopolitan Creed, but that’s just kind of too much work…]
I kind of like the original phrasing.
The Lutheran Confessions, dating to the time of the Reformation, include the Latin “Credo” or “I believe” in the Nicene Creed. But when the reformer Martin Luther wrote a hymn paraphrase of the Creed, he wrote in German: “Wir glauben all’ an einen Gott…” We all believe… (You can find We All Believe in One True God in Lutheran hymnals to this day.)
I like saying, “I believe.” But I also really appreciate the strength that comes from saying, “We all believe, together.” Not only does that communal statement highlight the radically relational nature of salvation, it invites me to a strong statement of faith even when my faith is weak.
I may not believe as firmly as I would like this week. But I can still say we believe with gusto. Your faith props me up when I am faltering; and my faith will return the favor when yours starts to waiver. We confess our faith in Jesus better when we confess him together.
So next time you say the Creed in church, whether Apostles’ or Nicene, you’ll probably start with “I.” That’s not wrong. But as you join all the other people at your local church and add your “I” to the chorus of voices around the world, remember that “we” all believe this together. There is strength in that common profession.
The Gospel is certainly radically personal. (Thank you, Jesus!)
And the Gospel will always be radically communal and radically relational, as well. (O come, let us worship and bow down: let us kneel before the LORD, our Maker. For he is our God; and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand.)
Editor’s Note: Bits and pieces of this blog were taken and modified from My Next Step, Volume 3: Finding Your Groove. I also used Early Christian Creeds by JND Kelly to look up the original language forms of the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds. For the original Latin and German of the Creeds in the Lutheran Confessions, I pulled my old, dusty Concordia Triglotta off the shelf (CPH, 1921).