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Posts Tagged ‘Resurrection’

To each and every statement of their core beliefs, the Abrahamic faiths attach particular levels of emphasis and insistence.  Each faith system is determined to demonstrate that what it proclaims is not only eternally true but uniquely so.  All other claims are wrong.

This clamour is dialled up proportionally to the perceived importance of the dogma: the more apparently essential the doctrinal assertion is, the more loudly it is made.

But it’s still the case that if a particular explanation is presented as the supremely truthful answer, the more urgent and necessary the question has to be.  And if the question deserves the answer we have now, but the answer becomes less clamant over time, what happens to that question?

For entities which pride themselves on their ability to explain things, this process of entropy represents a permanent threat to the mission.  But what is the point of explaining something when to do so is no longer required, or more satisfying explanations can be found elsewhere?

Consider Christianity.  In the light of such alternatives, unwelcome but increasingly available over time, how do its axiomatic beliefs escape the charge of being, in the words of my old teacher J S Bezzant, nothing more than ‘pre-scientific philosophizing aloof from facts or as mythopoeic fancy?’ (Intellectual objections, p86 in Vidler 1963).

The need to know

This entropy hurts most, and matters more, the ‘higher up’ the hierarchy of beliefs the questioning is located.  It is one thing to doubt the Nativity story, for instance, and accept it as a charming but symbolic account of how and when God appeared among us; quite another to examine critically the altogether more demanding doctrine of the Atonement.

This degree of interpretation, shading from indulgence through to adversarial interrogation, is invoked in different ways in different times with different degrees of evolution (autres temps, autres moeurs).  The grounds are always shifting under dogmatism’s feet.  In this our own age, for example, it is striking to hear the Pope explain, post-existentially, what none of his predecessors could ever do, that there is no such physical place as Hell – in which case, we might think, the victory of scientific postulation over ‘mythopoeic fancy’ seems well-nigh complete.

It must be the case, then, logically speaking, that some Christian doctrines are more vulnerable to these risk factors and shape-shifting than others are.  Of four great pillars of Christian belief – incarnation, atonement by crucifixion, resurrection to eternal life and kerygma – celebrated as major festivals in the church’s year, two are deemed to be clearly more important for the faith and are enacted with far more liturgy, noise and art. One of these is the Cross and the theory of the Atonement.  The other is the Resurrection and the promise of eternal life.  We will return to these shortly.

For the other two pillars, we have already noted the ‘weight’ of the Nativity story as an allegorically truthful account of how the Incarnation came about, and Pentecost is clearly an explanation of the moment when the first followers of Jesus realised that their faith would henceforward be the vehicle for continuous enactment and Good News evangelism ‘out there’.  “We have a Gospel to proclaim”, as the hymn puts it.

This, the church’s central mission, needs a foundation story.  St Luke provides it, in a powerful blend of awed mythologizing and eye-witness reportage.  Some is factual, other parts something else but no less true.  We hardly notice the seams.

Christ is risen from the dead

As for another of the great pillars, whether or not the Resurrection was a historical event based on physical evidence cogently reported is a question that has been discussed and fought over for centuries. Once, it mattered a good deal. People died for answering that question ‘wrongly’.

Nowadays, I suspect, despite our priests describing the Resurrection as the most important entry in the Christian logbook, we ordinary churchgoers think of the story as more or less an allegory intended to explain how to bridge the gap between the ‘Jesus of history and the Christ of faith’ and why it is essential that it does this. Paul wrote as much: “If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is worthless, and so is your faith.” (1 Cor 15:14-15)  That seems conclusive, but is it?

Since we now know that nobody survives death, we are compelled to fall back onto the explanation that the story is symbolic.  This has been common currency in theological circles for decades.  According to his obituary, Bishop David Jenkins considered that “the resurrection was not a single event, but a series of experiences that gradually convinced people that Jesus’s life, power, purpose and personality were actually continuing.”  How can that be less convincing than the traditional formulation?

Proclaiming Easter is difficult.  Trying to explain to a clever undergraduate that we Christians believe that Jesus came back physically from the dead is a non-starter, let alone a horse that falls at the first fence.  Yet, as we have seen, this core belief, metaphorical or not, is the one most emphasised by the priesthood on the grounds that we should see it as the most important article of our faith; more important, perhaps, than the Atonement (about which we seem to hear less and less as the years go by).

So big an answer, then, rests on some big questions.  What can those be?  To what extent do they involve some fundamental assumptions?

The first assumption is that the corporeal element is physically possible. In the Resurrection story the key realism passage is the one starring Thomas and his demand to see Jesus’ wounds (John 20:24-29). The assertive style in which it is written comes across as a challenge to any way we might approach the scene as if it were ‘only’ an allegory.  I persist in believing – accepting – that it is so.

The second fundamental assumption is that death is both bad and inescapable while eternal life is a desideratum available to believers. (I’m aware that Judaism is divided on this proposal, as Paul was also; see Acts 23:8).  Why would anybody not want to live for ever?

Third, we all die but we do so – as a scientific fact – only because, according to the non-scientific declarations of Genesis, Adam sinned: the ultimate punishment for his disobedience.  How fortunate we are, then a ‘second Adam’ (Newman) came into our lives to reverse this decision. “O truly necessary sin of Adam, which the death of Christ has blotted out!” sings the Paschal Proclamation. ‘Death, thou shalt die.’ (Donne)(To be continued)

 

 

 

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If we understand God to be, not a Thing but rather a dimension of our humanness, the ultimate meaning, a dynamic of the universe, a force revealed in various ways, we need not be afraid to reimagine the givens of our faith, test the truths and structures of our beliefs and invigorate the familiar tropes and practices of our religious life. (more…)

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My musings about God and Jesus Christ in my recent Quest for God series of postings must surely strike a chord with many other people.  But this sort of thinking gets short shrift in the Easter 2017 edition of the Catholic Herald.

The theme is resurrection from the dead. In attacking the belief “that the Resurrection was only an event in the faith consciousness of the disciples, however real, rich and radical that might be imagined,” Fr Ron Rolheiser stipulates that “to believe in the Incarnation is to believe that God was born into real physical flesh, lived in real physical flesh, died in real physical flesh and rose in real physical flesh.”

Fr Julian Large agrees: “The Ascension indicates that heaven is not merely some disembodied state of spiritual bliss but a real place where bodies exist.” (Where does that leave Job 19:26?)

I find these assertions fascinating.  They assume that the laws discovered by science these many centuries can be and are circumvented by divine fiat.  Where in our universe, for example, is a physical heaven to be found?  And where does this leave St Paul when he explains that the dead “are buried as natural human bodies, but they will be raised as spiritual bodies” (1 Cor 15:44)?

As such these statements of fact in the Herald are literally incredible in the post-Enlightenment sense.  To be precise, they are nonsense.  But they do not mean that the Resurrection and the Ascension didn’t happen.  They did, I believe, but in a metaphorical, symbolical way (I take this to be a valid layer of meaning in Article 6.660 of the Catechism) that represents an authentic article of faith.

I am comfortable with that, and shrug off Richard Ingrams’ remark in the same issue: “Anyone hoping to take comfort in [the explanation of the Gospel story as some sort of beautiful poetic “myth” which was not intended to be taken literally] is more likely to find it in the writings of progressive theologians or the sermons of renegade CofE bishops.” Ouch.  The renegades have my sympathy.

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Who was Jesus?  That question, put by friend and foe, has been discussed, sometimes violently, for two millennia.  Despite Catholic doctrine, there is no easy answer.  The question comes up again and again.  Its difficulty lies in how we should regard the person at the central reference point of our faith. (more…)

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As is always the case along the quest for ‘God’, I soon come across the footprints of other, better writers and thinkers who have got there before me.  I wanted to think about the way in which metaphor and symbolism reinforce the language of any faith system when I accidentally came across the following paragraph by a theologian writing late in the 19th century:

“Symbols are the only language suited to religion.

It would be an illusion to believe that a religious symbol represents God in Himself, and that its value, therefore, depends on the exactitude with which it represents Him. The true content of the symbol is entirely subjective: it is the conscious relation of the subject to God, or rather, it is the way he feels himself affected by God.

From this point of view we may see in what religious inspiration psychologically consists. Neither its aim nor its effect is to communicate to men exact, objective, ready-made ideas on that which by its nature is unknowable under the scientific mode; but it consists in an enrichment and exaltation of the inner life of its subject; it sets in motion his inward religious activity, since it is in that that God reveals Himself; it excites new feelings, constituting new concrete relations of God to man, and by the fact of this creative activity it spontaneously engenders new images and new symbols, of which the real content is precisely this revelation of the God-spirit in the inner life of the spirit of man.

The greatest initiators in the religious order have been the greatest creators of symbols.” (August Sabatier.  Outlines of a Philosophy of Religion based on Psychology and History.  1910. Chapter 4, Section 6 Symbolism)

If we accept that metaphor and symbolism help faith, not hinder it, then certain parts of scripture and Christian teaching become easier to understand.  A good example is provided by Jesus’ parables (the purpose of which is set out in Matt 13:10-17).  Like drama – which is another art – they provide us with the means pictorially and helpfully, to discern the truths and frailties of human behaviour.  As such, they should be treasured as windows through which we can see and evaluate aspects of that interaction between ourselves and ‘God’ (any concept of which) and modify our beliefs and stance accordingly.

This is all very well, but – to speak only about Christianity – the more we scan scriptures for the lodes of meaning running through the parables, sayings and incidents we have inherited, the more difficult it becomes to subject the great narratives of our faith to such examination without seeming to undermine them, and thus our faith, in some cases (not others) quite disturbingly.

The first of these great narratives, however, is the one least likely to cause this kind of offence.  About the Nativity, the late Marcus Borg wrote “the stories of Jesus’ birth are myths in this sense [that is, “symbolic narratives and not straightforward historical reports”].  Along with most mainline scholars, I do not think these stories report what happened. The virginal conception, the star, the wise men, the birth in Bethlehem where there was no room in the inn and so forth are not facts of history.  But I think these stories are powerfully true.  They make use of rich archetypal religious images and motifs to speak of Jesus’ significance.” (The God we never knew. 1998. Pp101-102).

Similarly, on another of the great narratives, Borg said that “Easter need not involve the claim that God supernaturally intervened to raise the corpse of Jesus from the tomb.  Rather, the core meaning of Easter is that Jesus continued to be experienced after his death, but in a radically new way: as a spiritual and divine reality.” (op cit, p93).   I intend to return to this particular trope at a later date.

I assume that these ideas formed part of earlier theological teaching of Biblical demythologisation, by Rudolf Bultmann and others.

Another of the great narratives of Christianity, Pentecost, celebrating the Holy Spirit’s gift of tongues 40 days after Easter (in Acts 2), seems to me to be a quasi-symbolic depiction of the apostles’ realisation that their mission now was to go out and spread the Good News.  The story is written in a highly theological register but with persuasive touches of realism which must have been experienced during an actual incident and recalled later by eye-witnesses (Peter’s insistence that he is not drunk, for example).  Again, here, there is nothing in the interplay between symbolism and ‘what really happened’ to cause us to doubt or reject the basic meaning of the story and so lose the message.

With the Passion, Crucifixion, Resurrection and Salvation narratives, however, we enter altogether more difficult terrain, where the allocation of story-telling editing here and meaning-laden metaphor there, realism and symbolism, has to be set out with exceptionally careful handling.  Here the quest for God is really put under pressure. [To be continued]

 

 

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For some people, even believers, Easter is far from being an unalloyed occasion for joy.  Despite its premier place in Christian belief, it seems to be slipping further and further down the mainstream Anglo national consciousness.  One obvious reason is that nowadays we think about death, and the risk of eternal damnation, somewhat differently from our forbears.  That affects our views about the credibility, desirability, let alone possibility, of life after death. (more…)

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Jesus of Nazareth

Although I am no longer a regular churchgoer, I still consider myself an Anglican.  I still have great admiration for the Christian faith.  A large part of this can be traced, I think, to my particular perspective.  For me, the central idea of Christianity and the secret of its success is its humanism; if Islam is about submission and Judaism about the Law, then alone amongst the great Abrahamic faith systems, Christianity is the story of the human predicament and how we deal with it and work through it. (more…)

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