Saturday, 19 March 2011

Hope for all?

As I said in my last post, time has a strange habit. The discussion of the next life here occurs whilst thousands have died in Japan, and Libya, particularly, in two very different sets of circumstances- overwhelmed by nature, fighting against countrymen, whatever. To speak of God's wrath kindled against sinful humanity may sound fine in abstract, context-less theologyland, but how is it presented to a world that is ever-wracked by grief and disaster? So far, I have not seen a voice from the 'hellfire and perdition' brigade attempt to bridge the theology-pastoral gap that their doctrines really can create, and I would be interested to hear the account they give.

For my own part, I cannot deny there is a serious problem in the God that willingly lets at the very least, the honest and humble seekers and doubters, or the sincere and good believers of other faiths find are expected to find themselves sharing in the punishment of truly heinous people- should I somehow be fortunate enough to make it to paradise (whatever it is) how can my joy be complete knowing that those prayed for, those I forgave and thought worthy of forgiveness and non-judgement following the example of Christ, those I laughed and wept and lived with are out there suffering, perpetually and unrelentingly and more besides? Who in those circumstances would not like Paul or Moses, cry out to be cut off or blotted out in the place of others? How could anyone who has tried to follow God and goodness possibly resign themselves to such suffering?

Fortunately, I think, I hope, God may not do so, and what started this thought process is the reading of the Church Fathers- in particular Athanasius, who really set the ball rolling for me, and it is his understanding of salvation that has me cautiously shifting towards the idea that actually, there may be something substantial, rather than just my hope (or fear, perhaps) that means God may really have the final victory over all.

I rely quite heavily on his work De Incarnatione for this particular fragment of my recent thoughts- I intend to outline a brief sketch here of some key ideas and what they have challenged me to consider. Chiefly among the considerations are a serious engagement with what it means for creation to be good, and what it is for humans to be in the 'image' and 'likeness' of God, and just what an Incarnational faith might mean- after all, why do we make so much of the last week of his life; were those 33 prior years just by the by, even though they were 33 years of God being with us?

Like all Christian Theologians, Athanasius begins his account of salvation by going back to creation and the fall. There was a time yes, when humankind was better than it was before- but not perfect it seems, Athanasius insists that physical death is a biological fact of life, part of the created order- Adam's immortality springs from his contemplation of God- "For man is by nature mortal in that he was created from nothing. But because of his likeness to him who exists, if he had kept this through contemplating God, he would have blunted his natural corruption and would have remained incorruptable..." (DI 4). The Fall then represents humankind as turning away from the contemplation of eternal things to earthly things, that is things which tend to non-existence, and in Athansius (as in Augustine) evil is non-existence (existence being the product of God, and therefore good), for which we suffer the 'corruption' of death, physical and spiritual entropy - the collapse of our self effectively into dust. Hardly a befitting end for something created to share in the relationship of God in incorruptibility.

Humanity therefore started life living under grace, contemplating the word, but with the rupture of that link we turned to earthly things and became unable to escape this lower form of life. What is interesting to note is that this has very little at it's root to do with Sin. Death is not the decreed punishment for disobedience and death is not the merit of our misdeeds. Rather it is about our being, our nature being damaged, and an incapability to respond to the divine. Athanasius in fact specifically mentions this in chapter 7 "...what should God have done? Demand repentance from men for the transgression? ... Repentance gives no exemption form the consequences of nature, but merely looses sins. If therefore, there had been only sin and not its consequence of corruption, repentance would have been very well". It's not about satisfying the demands of justice or honour it seems - rather salvation is therapeutic in nature; making humanity right again. What I'm delighted to hear is that contemporary Orthodox also take this view of 'salvation as healing' as can be seen here and here for instance.

So what is going on in the plan of salvation? Well, with mankind now unable to see beyond earthly things, it becomes eminently necessary for the Son to take on flesh so that they might again turn to God. But there is something yet more important. Athanaisus of course is most famous for establishing the fully divine status of the Son against Arius, and the reason for this seems to stem in part from soteriological considerations- how could something not truly God fully do the will of God, and conversely how can someone not truly human act on behalf of all humans? Yet what I want to highlight here is that the important implication is that God actually, voluntarily particpates in human life, and being God thus transforms it. Since the fall, many things happen to man that are unknown to God, pain, fear, suffering, bodily desire and so on, and God remarkable rather despising these things, embraces them and so makes them proper to him. God acts as a re-creative agent- Christ transforms what was simply earthly into heavenly things, as Athanasius himself succinctly puts it- 'For what the human body of the Word suffered, this the Word, united to it, attributed it to himself, in order that we might be enabled to participate in the divinity of the Word” (Epistle to Epictetus)" The final thing to overcome of course being death itself.

This to me makes eminent sense, it identifies there is something deeper than sin going on; after all, God forgives sins in the Old Testament and Christ forgives sins before his death, furthermore its highly affirming of human existence and presents to us a God who doesn't expect us to transcend ourselves in order to reach him, try to hide our weaknesses (my mind turns to the Westboro Baptist Church as Louis Theroux presented them the other week) but instead really met us where we were and whom we can turn literally everything over to in the knowledge that he understands and can even see it in a holy light. Finally it also means that the whole life of Jesus in the gospels is not contingent- everything is important and grace begins upon arrival and not merely at the exit.

Now Athanasius supposedly wrote all this when he was in his early twenties, a staggering achievement if true. I myself can offer no such grand sweeping opus, but when I read all this it did spark one little thought: If the last word in Salvation is not 'justice' but 'restoration', if the work Christ is to transform humans back from disorder to order- how can the work be said to be finished if there exists in perpetuity a place of thorough disorder and baseness, namely hell - how can that place be proper to God? Can the work be really finished until all are redeemed? Particularly if we live in circumstances where our humanity is not so far from Divinity?

That last point though takes us closer to a real Universalist in Gregory of Nyssa, and I plan to stop with Athanasius.

Thursday, 17 March 2011

After a long period of absence...

I return once more from the hectic merry-go-round that is the University term, and find myself brimming with things that I really wish I had written about, but just never managed to. I missed out on the sale of the forests, the shape of the AV campaign, the seemingly endless reports of examples in the Tory-Lib Dem plans where the rich get off far lighter than those who can ill-afford it, and of course the fracas in north Africa. There is the upcoming TUC march to consider- and there have been many interesting things emerging from my sojourn in Oxford- I've met the architect of the Anglican Covenant, there was an interesting talk over the treatment of asylum seekers and the possibility of the borderless world, I have gained a community organizing internship in East London for the summer, run by the same guys who trained Barack Obama. Exciting things indeed and hopefully I will cover those things in the upcoming weeks. But what do I turn to first midst this array of topics?

However I'm going to start strangely enough, with what I've been studying, which is patristics. That's right, long dead theologians splitting hairs over how Jesus can exactly be 'God' and 'Man' or how the Spirit relates to the Father and Son. Seemingly trying to square their splendidly jewish scriptures with the subtleties of greek philosophy in order to appear intellectually credible- I can see many a protestant purist seeing this period as the one of decline and contamination of the 'pure gospel' with pagan thought, and indeed a great many more not solely walking in Luther's footsteps questioning just how relevant any of it is.

Apart from humbly suggesting that many, many Christians are forever trying to make sense of the figure of Christ through paradigms, ideas and analogies they are familiar with, which often includes assumptions drawn from the surrounding culture[1], that ultimately, it is the work of these men that give much of Christianity its distinctive shape, ideas and flavour; their conclusions (summarised in Councils like Nicaea, Chacedon, Alexandria) still remain the litmus-test of Christian Orthodoxy. Every baptised church member (apparently) affirms the views they set forth.

All very well and good one might say, but what possible relation can one find to these ancient thinkers to something happening today in order to blog about it (I think it's fair to label this blog as more current events 'table talk' than a reflective summa theologiae or Institutes- that is when I write at all, of course). However providence moves in funny ways and I have learnt that at the end of the month Rob Bell is publishing a new book- 'love wins'.

LOVE WINS. - Available March 15th from Rob Bell on Vimeo.

Just watch it, look at what he's saying- he's not implying [stage whisper] universalism, is he?

Well, one can imagine the absolute brouhaha that would result with such a suggestion from such an influential figure in the contemporary Christian world and it meets with strong rebuttal from (I imagine) all over the web, though I cite just one example. What intrigues me is how the argument often seems to be that this is somehow moving away from 'tradition' it's an INSIDIOUS. LIBERAL. TREND. Both new and the result of nothing more than the pressures of the culture, forcing silly old Rob to sell out on the TRUTH.

I hope you can see where this is now heading. The synchronicity of providence never ceases to amuse and amaze- for it is just the case that actually, through reading the Church Fathers, I too am beginning to inch towards the Universalist position myself. There may just be, the possibility that the gift of grace is really extended to all, that salvation is something that extends to all humans, so that God may be all in all (1 Cor 15.28), and that God '...desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of truth' (1 Tim 2.4) because through the work of Christ 'God was pleased to reconcile himself to all things, whether on earth or in heaven... (Col 1.20). And it is there, right in the early days of the Church- as it formulates an understanding of the person of Christ, the nature of God and so on and so forth, many of the ancient fathers also seemed to embrace the total and all-pervading victory of God over chaos and evil. And if we can accept that we owe rather more to the Church Fathers than we'd care to admit in formulating the orthodoxy we recite today (even though we frequently fail to understand their thought today[2]) then perhaps we should also be listening carefully to what they say on other matters? After all the Church is an entity that grows organically, rather than being constantly reinvented, the past is never (entirely) thrown out, so who knows where welcoming the past back into our church more fully in this instance may lead us?

Given the length of this post already, I shall outline how I have reached this conclusion very soon, thus much of this post appears to be little more than a book promotion and note of apology. Having said that of course, I am very sorry for my silence and I do think that this latest book is definitely going to be one worth reading. However there is one more aspect- my own contribution on this topic is going to be tiny, underwhelming and related simply to the church Fathers. I was going to write it today, but I found that the truly excellent Richard Beck is also blogging about universalism.

At the current day of posting, there are six entries, the first of which can be found RIGHT HERE that will deal far more fully and generally with the subject of universal salvation and part of the reason I am refraining from writing my twopence today is because I think it would be worth my time as well to read them all, so for now I will leave it in his capable hands.

Hopefully, the gap between this post and the subsequent will be distinctly less than the one that preceeded this post!

[1] I think it is a given that we can neither escape our 'history' or our 'location', which I am labeling as conditions of our participation in a certain intellectual and social climate which stems from our physical selves being dimensionally finite and bound by temporality- such is human nature. Our thought is even shaped by our language and how we understand particular words, it's a real minefield!
[2] Most modern theologians tend to be loose on these doctrinal questions, sometimes even rejecting the conclusions- here one could cite the favouring of divine passability - whilst in the pulpits and congregation there seems to be a strong tendency to veer between modalism and tritheism in describing God in the western church.