In the south transept of Chartres Cathedral looms a magnificent rose window portraying the exaltation of Christ. Just beneath visitors will find five smaller lancet windows—the central featuring a regal Mary holding the infant Christ. The four on either side are more difficult to make out. Each window shows two men—one resting on the shoulders of the other. The lower figures represent the prophets Jeremiah, Isaiah, Ezekiel, and Daniel. Perched on their shoulders are the Gospel writers: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. I’ve always appreciated the almost childish way these characters are portrayed—as if caught in a moment of play. But the message in this striking arrangement is enduring and crucial: the New Testament rests upon the foundation of a Spirit-inspired Old Testament. And only by standing on the shoulders of the prophets are the evangelists able to see Jesus for who he truly is.
The Nicene Creed mentions these prophets, stating that it is through them the Holy Spirit has spoken. These words, simple as they are, remind us of a profound reality: God is a speaking God. In the words of Francis Schaeffer, “He is there and He is not silent.” Throughout the Biblical narrative God commits Himself to his people through a spoken covenant. Whenever the people fail, God is faithful, through the Spirit, to send prophets who call the nation to trust God’s promises, practice righteousness, and show covenant faithfulness. The preaching of the prophets is the speaking of the Spirit.
The Spirit, of course, is not the only Divine Person who speaks in Scripture. The Father speaks at Christ’s baptism and transfiguration. The Son speaks all throughout the Gospels. All the Divine Persons have voice. But the Spirit is distinct in almost always speaking through the voice of man. Whether Old Testament or New, when men and women declare the words of God, it’s the Spirit who prompts and inspires. Peter says that, “No prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit” (2 Pet. 2:21). Paul declares that it is only by the Spirit’s enabling that we can declare Jesus as Lord (1 Cor. 12:3). The Spirit, uniquely, communicates through the medium of people.
So the Spirit speaks. This means that the Spirit is not merely a disembodied force or divine aura. The Spirit, like the Father and Son, is a Person. And with the Father and Son He shares the Divine Nature. Furthermore, as the Creed says, the Spirit is worshipped and glorified. At the same time it is the Spirit who glorifies (Jn. 16:14-15) and testifies about the Son, so that through the Spirit, we can see and know Jesus rightly.
Of course this isn’t just a New Testament phenomenon. It’s the Holy Spirit, through the ministry of the prophets, who prepared the way for Christ, fostering the hope of national (and global) renewal and training the eyes of Israel on a coming Messiah who would be faithful where they had been faithless. The Gospel writers knew this, and drew heavily on the Old Testament to explain Jesus’ Messianic identity and, interestingly, reframe their own identity in light of His coming.
The Spirit then plays a pivotal role in the church age. Peter’s sermon in Acts 2 is prompted by the Spirit’s powerful descent onto the Pentecost crowd of disciples. The same Spirit that rested on the 120 in the upper room and emboldened Peter to preach also opened the hearts of the Jerusalem multitude. In Paul’s epistles we find the Spirit fills the churches with prophetic utterances, releases gifts, and empowers the prayers and worship of the saints. In Revelation the Apostle John finds himself “in the Spirit on the Lord’s day,” and records “what the Spirit says” to the seven churches. To put it simply, in and through the church, the Spirit speaks.
In John 16 Jesus promised the disciples, “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth.” The Spirit empowers and guards the integrity of our Gospel witness. Without the Spirit’s help, we are not only blind. We are blind to our blindness. But when the Spirit speaks, through the word and sacraments, our eyes are opened to see both our need for Christ and the richness of His love for us.
This line of the Creed also functions as a direct challenge to the Marcionite impulse dealt with in the earliest days of the church. Marcion was a second century heretic who sought to distinguish the Jesus of the Gospels from the Yahweh of the Hebrew Bible. His skeptical view of the latter led him to reject all of the Old Testament and those parts of the New Testament he deemed too Jewish. But in the Creed we have this precious affirmation, that through Israel’s patriarchs and prophets God has spoken, and even more, though long dead, through them the Spirit still speaks.
At Chartres, the evangelists rest on the prophet’s shoulders. From their exalted height they see the fulfillment of promises made through the saints of old—the weight of prophetic anticipation finally descending on the one who would live, suffer, and rise for His people. The fathers of Nicaea remind us that to read the Scriptures rightly we must stand on the same shoulders. Only there can we heed the voice of the Spirit and cast our eyes far enough to see the Son in all his glory.
Photo Credit Unsplash.com
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