Kierkegaard on predicative being...

Wow, this is a deep bit of writing:

"Jehovah says: I am who I am; I am. This is the supreme being. But to be in this way is too exalted for us human beings, much too earnest. Therefore we must try to become something; to be something is easier. Roguish, as everything related to humanity is, we express it in this way: earnestness is to be something.

Most men, or at least almost everyone, would die of anxiety about himself if his being should be—a tautology; they are more anxious about this kind of being and about themselves than about seeing themselves. So their situation is mitigated. The alleviation might be, for example: I am Chancellor, Knight of Denmark, member of the Cavalry Purchasing Commission, Alderman, Director of the Club. In a deeper sense all this is—diversion.

But, to repeat, man is probably not able to bear true earnestness. What I am inveighing against is merely this lying, this making diversion into earnestness. And yet perhaps I am wrong here, too; for generally men would never be able to last it out if they weren't permitted to live in the illusion that this is earnestness; they would die of anxiety about life and about themselves at the mere thought that their earnestness is diversion, without, however, being deprived of this diversion.

But no doubt all these numerous predicates are actually diversions, distractions, which prevent a man from the deepest impression of this to be. And how infinitely far men now are from being able to bear the actual impression of earnestness is best seen from the fact that they have even made this predicative being into—Christianity."

Kierkegaard on spiritual trials...

Since I don't really have much of interest to say these days, I'll turn to what someone else has said much better than I can -- of course, that means I'm going to quote from Kierkegaard... who else? ;-)  I've been pondering this section from "For Self-Examination" recently:

"Truly, rest assured that anyone who comes down these paths shouting with joy has not been called.  There is not one of those called who has not preferred to be exempted, not one who, as a child begs and pleads to be let off, has not pleaded for himself, but it does not help -- he must go on...

When the terror rises up, the person who is not called becomes so alarmed that he turns and runs.  But the one who is called -- ah, my friend, he would rather turn back, shuddering before the terror, but as soon as he turns to flee he sees -- he sees an even greater horror behind him, the horror of spiritual trial, and he must go forward...

Everything that closely or remotely belongs to the given actuality arms itself against this man of spiritual trial whom it nevertheless is impossible to terrify because, strangely enough, he is so afraid -- of God.  All attack him, hate him, curse him.  The few who are loyal to him cry out, 'Be careful!  You are making yourself and everybody else unhappy.  Stop now and do not make the terror more intense.  Check the words on your lips and recant what you have just said.'  O my listener, faith is a restless thing."

While I suppose that some would merely perceive here an account of the psychological turmoil associated with religious belief, there is something about Kierkegaard's description that seems to contain a very important truth, though I'm not sure how to express it.  What I want to say is something like this:

Faith is found in the individual's decision to follow God above all else, and this decision cannot help but create a kind of fear or terror in a person.  But it is a terror that must be faced, because one is convinced that it will be an even worse thing to turn away from God.  Nevertheless, there is a severe trial that takes place in every genuine expression of faith, because the person must hold together three things: 1) A belief that God is to be followed, even at the expense of everything else. 2) A recognition that this will not make sense to anyone else, unless they have gone through the same experience (and how can anyone be sure of that?).  3) The recognition that there is no way to ascertain whether one has made the right decision or not, at least not in our current human state.

Given this situation, faith should be a thing taken most seriously, and with full recognition of its difficulties and its offensive status vis-a-vis standard modern/postmodern human conceptions of knowledge and reality.  This is why I, like Kierkegaard, am always a bit suspicious of people who make their claims to faith quickly and easily.  I suspect that they likely haven't really dealt with faith on a very significant level.  Why?  Because, as Kierkegaard says, "faith is a restless thing."  Faith cannot be domesticated, and any attempt to do so may just lead to its disappearance.  And nothing is worse than to think you have faith when you don't.

A few more thoughts on the Bible...

I've written on this topic before, but this week a friend of mine asked me to give a quick explanation of my basic views on the inspiration and interpretation of Scripture.  Clearly, this is not the kind of thing that can be fully explained in a single blog entry (or even a series!), but I want to post these thoughts here and see what kind of feedback I get.  So, here goes:

Like many evangelical Christians, I grew up simply believing that the Bible was the book of Truth (with a capital 'T') given to us by God.  I never really questioned it much, even in college, and post-college, when I prided myself on being a bit more 'avant garde' than the average Christian, primarily because of the music I listened to. (Rather foolish, I know, but aren't we all a bit foolish in our early 20's?)

Anyway, to make a long story short, I pretty much accepted the Bible at face value, without really thinking very deeply about what was going on behind the scenes, so to speak.  Sure, there were lots of debates over interpretation, but these were mostly 'in-house' debates having to do with what specific verses did or didn't say about things like rock music, tattoos, and drinking alcohol.  I have no doubt that many Christians are still living in this paradigm.

Mooney on faith...

"Faith means taking the things of the world in a certain manner.  In contrast to stoicism, it means taking them as blessed, just as Job blesses the Lord who gives and takes.  But how can a man as afflicted as Job is, nevertheless affirm the inexhaustible meaning of the particulars around him...?  Job's capacity to maintain a faithful vision is put on trial.  We can conceive this trial as a battle between two competing frames or visions for understanding suffering and affliction.  The battle takes place on many fronts, between Job and his friends; between Job and the Lord; within Job himself; and within us as we read this unsettling, inconvenient scripture..."

- Edward Mooney

The threat of biblicism...

"The reason why a strict and narrowly understood biblicism is intrinsically impossible is that it does not take account of this situation, that is to say, of the essential historicity of proclamation and theology.  Such biblicism supposes that the only suitable method of proclamation and theology would be 'simply to hold fast to the language of the Bible.'  I do not wish to deny that such a requirement attempts to give expression, in an unreflective way, to a desire which must altogether be affirmed.  If, however, we are seeking clarity in our method, our efforts are threatened by biblicism as a principle because it limits itself essentially to the language of the Bible and fundamentally ignores the historicity of proclamation and theology.  Biblicism in this sense poses the most serious kind of threat..." (Gerhard Ebeling, "The Problem of Historicity")

the frailty of the body...

Is anyone else like me, a bit put off (and embarrassed to admit it) by all the trendy theological talk of 'incarnating' ministry and 'lived' theology and the 'earthiness' of the Christian life?  I mean, I know that Christ was fully human, and that we ought to value our humanity as something good, created by God... and I get that the result of being a follower of Christ who thinks this way ought to be that we reach out in love to other human beings, in the midst of their humanity.  This is all a wonderful expression of our faith.

But, I gotta say, there's also a big part of me that still thinks there's something really valuable in the view that this world is not our home, and there awaits something much better after this life is over.  I mean, maybe it's just an immaturity on my part, but the idea of not having to live in this frail body, with all of its limitations, is extremely appealing.  Perhaps if I had a really "successful" life, and was an amazing physical specimen, I'd feel differently.  But, I suspect that there are very few people who are really content with this human life, if the truth be told.

I mean, imagine what it would be like to never have to deal with the physical and mental limitations we have to put up with in this life.  Imagine, no allergies of any kind!  hehe... a silly example, I suppose, but it's just to make the point that I think most of us get used to living lives that are far less than what we really want, but we convince ourselves that our lives 'aren't that bad', because the alternative is being depressed about it.  Of course, in comparison to many people, my life isn't that bad, and I know the scriptures say we should rejoice in all things.  Still, life could be a LOT better.  Doesn't everyone think that, deep down?

I guess my little rant here is just to say, in the midst of sharing life, and being loving to others, and learning to bring hope and healing to the world, I hope Christians aren't forgetting that the primary revelation of Christianity is still precisely that there is a new life, a life beyond death, and a new world, that we believe somehow exists.  And, earthiness and language of incarnation aside, I am really hoping for that.  Because if all we have to look forward to is a world similar to this one, just a little better due to human endeavors, that doesn't seem very appealing to me.  I wonder how to find balance between living for Christ in this life and looking forward to the afterlife.

Maybe you disagree?  Perhaps I'm just not seeing things the way I should?  Curious to hear the thoughts of others.

The Culmination of a Scandal...

Easter is the day when Christians celebrate the decisive point of God's victorious action for the created world: the bodily resurrection of Jesus Christ.  It is the central event of our faith, and the 'firstfruits', as Scripture explains, of what is to come, on the day when all creation will be reconciled to God.  How this happens, we don't really know, but, after all, we don't really understand how the resurrection happens either.  We simply trust that the resurrection of the dead is a reality, and that it finds its archetypal expression in Jesus' resurrection.

But Easter is also the culmination of a scandal - the scandal of Christ's passion, wherein he was betrayed, abandoned, tortured, and finally killed... all because human beings couldn't understand what God was, and is, trying to do.  And, it seems that things really aren't that different today.  Often, most people -- including we who call ourselves Christians -- really don't understand just what God is trying to do.  We develop all sorts of systems and patterns by which we attempt to figure things out, but at the end of the day, we are still left with a lot of uncertainty as to how the plan will actually unfold, and even as to what the plan actually is.

This is one reason why I love Easter: it reminds me that I don't have to know all the specifics of God's plan, or how it works.  What God asks of me is to place my faith in the hope of the resurrection.  It's a bizarre thing, to be sure, a belief that all death will be overcome through the victory over death of a Jewish man who lived 2,000 years ago, but it is also a source of immense transformative power.  For, after all, in a basic sense, that is the plan -- to see all of creation transformed from that which is slowly dying, and becoming chaotic, empty, and nothing, into that which is alive, restored, full of all that is true and good.

And this, I believe, is the answer to the question: 'What is God doing?'  God is, somehow, transforming reality from death to life -- even though death is unavoidable.  The hope of such transformation may seem wishful folly, but I am continuing to hope in it nonetheless, in part because it reminds me that I also have a part to play in the process of transformation.  I can bring the resurrection into people's lives each day.  I can treat other human beings (indeed, all of creation) as worthy of restoration and life, and I can impart hope, even if only in small ways, to the world.

It is not easy, and it is not always easy to believe that any transformation is taking place.  But on Easter, I am reminded of the hope that I profess, a hope that says new life is possible, and that it is available to everyone, and I can provide a taste of that life when I live as Jesus lived.  My prayer for this Easter, and every day of my life, is that I will be, by God's grace, able to share a glimpse of resurrection with everyone I meet.  Amen.