I hesitate to say anyone is wrong. I prefer to be as precise as possible with language. Thus, no human being, no being, can possibly be wrong. Wrong is too inconsequential a word to use in such a monumental way. Who am to say such a thing? We may wear our clothes wrong-side out, as I sometimes do if there are annoying tags, but to do so does not make us wrong. Eccentric maybe. Or perhaps too lazy to remove the tags, or maybe even too attached to an old piece of clothing since most don’t have tags anymore.
The early fathers of the Christian faith — not the men and women who flocked to the message of a Jewish apocalyptic preacher named Yeshua, but those men who codified a belief in a being who was once and always both divine and wholly human — were on to something. In very real if unnecessarily complicated way, they were on the right track toward answers to the eternal question: Why are we here? How could it be that everything that is is here?