18 May 07
I have just written this parable as a means of exploring the central theme of the book I am writing at the moment. Comments are welcome!
There was once a small town filled with believers who sought to act always in obedience to the voice of God. When faced with difficult situations the leaders of the community would often be found deep in prayer, or searching the scriptures, for guidance and wisdom. Late one evening, in the middle of winter, a young man from the neighboring city arrived at the gates of the town's little church seeking refuge. The caretaker immediately let him in and, seeing that he was hungry and cold, provided a meal and some warm clothes. After he had eaten the young man explained how he had fled the city because the authorities had labeled him a political dissident. It turned out that the man had been critical of both the Government and the Church in his work as a journalist. The caretaker brought the young man back to his home and allowed him to stay until a plan had been worked out concerning what to do next.
When the Priest was informed of what had happened he called the leaders of the town together in order to work out what ought to be done. After two days of discussion it was agreed that the man should be handed over the the authorities in order to face up to the crimes he had committed. But the caretaker protested, saying, 'this man has committed no crimes, he has merely criticised what he believes to be the injustices perpetrated by authorities in the name of God'
'What you say may be true', replied the Priest, 'but his presence puts the whole of this town in danger, for what if the authorities work out where he is and learn that we protected him'.
But the caretaker refused to hand him over to the Priest, saying, 'he is my guest and while under my roof I will ensure that no harm comes to him. If you take him from me by force then I will publicly attest to having helped him and suffer the same injustice as my guest'.
The caretaker was well loved by the people and the Priest had no intention of letting something happen to him. So the Leaders went away again and this time searched the scriptures for an answer for they knew that the caretaker was a man of deep faith. After a whole night of pouring over the scriptures the leaders came back to the caretaker saying,
'We have read the sacred book all through the night seeking guidance and found that it tells us that we must respect the authorities of this land and witness to the truth of faith through submission to them'.
But the caretaker also knew the sacred words of scripture and told them that the bible also asked that we care for those who suffer and are persecuted.
There and then the leaders began to pray fervently. They beseeched God to speak to them, not as a still small voice in their conscience, but rather in the way that He had spoken to Abraham and Moses. They begged that God would communicate directly to them and to the caretaker so that the issue could finally be resolved. Sure enough the sky began to darken and God descended from heaven, saying,
'The Priest and Elders speak the truth my friend. In order to protect the town this man must be handed over to the authorities'.
But the caretaker, a man of deep faith, looked up to heaven and replied, 'if you want me to remain faithful to you my God then I can do nothing but refuse your advice. For I do not need the scriptures or your words to tell me what I ought to do. You have already demanded that I look after this man. You have written that I must protect him at all costs. Your words of love have been spelt out by the lines of this mans face, your text is found in the texture of his flesh. And so my God, I defy you precisely so as to remain faithful to you'.
With this God withdrew, knowing that the matter had finally been settled.
12 May 07
The other day I was thinking about the teaching attributed to Jesus in the Sermon of the Mount concerning what one ought to do when faced with the situation in which an individual strikes you on the right cheek. In response to this Jesus says that we ought to, ‘turn to him the other also’.
As many of us know one of the prime interpretations of this teaching brings up the fact that, at this time, striking someone on their right cheek (which involved using the back of ones right hand – for the left hand was used for unclean purposes and was thus not employed as way of hitting a person) was the way in which one disciplined someone they deemed of less worth and respect.
In light of this, an individual who would turn and offer the other side of their face to be hit caused the aggressor a problem. The aggressor could not respond with another back-handed slap (for the left hand could not be used) and so would either need to stand down or respond with an open handed strike or punch. To respond with a slap or punch was the kind of attack that one engaged in with one who had equal social standing. Thus the teaching must be seen as more than a challenge not to engage in violence (to those who are strong), nor to cower before violence (to those who are weak). In addition to this it is a way of saying that one ought to demand equality from those who would mistreat you.
In light of this I was reflecting upon how I respond when people attack me in various ways … but then it hit me. This parable is not for me. It does not tell me how to respond to someone who slags me off, or a worker who doesn’t say ‘thankyou’ when I leave a shop or a bouncer who refuses to let me into a pub. This parable is not for me at all, this parable is against me. For I am the one causing the violence, I am the one slapping most of the world in the face, I am the one causing violence to individuals everyday in the choices I make concerning what to eat, what to drink, what to wear, what to drive and where to live.
Jesus is not speaking directly to me but to the millions who I would strike each day with such lack of concern and lack of respect, he is challenging them to find ways to show their dignity in the face of my implicit feeling of superiority.
So perhaps the greatest challenge of this parable for me is that it is not a parable designed to challenge me at all… it simply holds up a mirror and tells me what I am before challenging those I oppress to stand up against me (even though it may cost them their lives)
4 May 07
Following up on my last post I want to make a couple of comments about the idea of truth in Christianity as the opening up of life. In order to do this let us make a distinction between the ‘truth of the world’ and the ‘truth of Christ’.
So what do we mean by the ‘truth of the world’? Simply speaking I am here referring to everything that makes itself known to us. To attempt to speak the truth in this worldly sense is to talk of something that has appeared in some way i.e. the truth of the statement ‘the battle of Hastings was fought in 1066’, rests upon whether or not this battle in question made an appearance in the world at that time through one or more of the five senses. In short the truth of the world is interested in what appears to us. This is evidenced in all the academic disciplines, which focus upon what makes itself known (e.g. sociology studies society, biology studies biological matter and chemistry studies chemical compounds).
So what is the truth of Christ, i.e. what is it that Christ seems to be talking about when he talks about truth? Is it possible that Christ is speaking precisely of something that does not make itself manifest (the truth of the world), of something that cannot be spoken about via the contemporary scientific and empirical discourse?
This would indeed seem to be the case, particularly when one reads the gospel according to John. We can begin to make sense of this when we consider the logic of incarnation. Incarnation refers to the idea of the invisible being rendered present in the visible… however it does not mean that the invisible is rendered visible (i.e. the invisible is not made known via the truth of the world). As such the incarnation speaks of a truth that is not in the order of the world. To understand this let us consider two limited examples. Firstly, one does not see sight, rather it is sight that enables one to see. Secondly one does not see light in a room, rather it is the light that allows one to see things in the room.
In both these examples we can begin to perceive the logic of the incarnation – i.e. that something can be present while remaining utterly unknown. In the Gospels we constantly read that people looked at Jesus yet did not ‘see’ Christ. Indeed, if we could travel back in time and do an operation on Jesus we would not find, deep inside, a divine spark or a second heart that would let us know this was God… his DNA would not spell out the sacred name of God. In short, the divine life emanating from the flesh of Christ does not operate in the realm of the truth of the world – it’s incoming is not made manifest (hence the claim of Jesus concerning those with eyes who cannot see).
So what is the truth of Christianity if it is not something measurable by the truth of the world? The gospels often make the claim that the truth of Christianity is life. In order to understand why this truth claim operates at a different level than the truth of the world let us reflect upon the notion of life. Upon close reflection it becomes clear that I cannot experience your life (all I see are movements in your flesh etc.). Your life is not accessible to me directly but is inferred by me. But more fundamentally my own life is not accessible to me either. I do not experience my life but rather my life is what opens me up to experience. While I enjoy my life I do not ‘experience’ it. It is present but not intelligible and therefore not able to be understood via the truth of the world (while ‘biology’ is a term that refers to the study of life, in reality it is the study of dead matter for life cannot be found on a dissecting table in a lab).
In the gospels we continually find reference to this new life and indeed Jesus even claims to be the life. So what does all this mean? It means that Christianity, whether true or false on its own terms, is not fundamentally a metanarrative which makes claims on the level of the ‘truth of the world’. Rather it claims a different type of truth, something which can never be rendered intelligible to empirical method but that none the less can make itself known via its presence – i.e. life in all its fullness. Is this not what we learn from the testimony of the man healed from a lifetime of blindness – he does not make any epistemic claims but simply shouts out, ‘I once was blind but now I see’.
In the next post I hope to write more on the logic of the incarnation and how epistemic doubt is built into it heart…
