Aaron C. Stevens
Storylinking in the Global Church:
African American Wisdom as a Guide for Discernment in the Central European Context The purpose of our paper is to present storylinking as a method of discernment appropriate for Christian students in Central and Eastern Europe. In Soul Stories: African American Christian Education, Anne Streaty Wimberly describes a model of Christian education that guides decision making by linking participants’ everyday stories with the narratives of individuals from the Bible and biographical data of figures from the African American cultural heritage.1 While Wimberly presents the method primarily as a way for small group discussions in congregational settings to aid in members’ discerning vocation and finding liberation, it is our conviction that with some adaptation her technique can bear fruit beyond the parish setting, and in contexts not linked directly to the method’s African American experience.
I. Conditions for Storylinking to Work as an Aid to Discernment Storylinking is more than simply a way to present stories of the faith; it is an effort to link them with our own stories as we are currently living them. Since the participants’ sharing of their own experiences is essential, we are making three assumptions when applying Wimberly’s method to a new context. 1
1.
First of all, we are assuming that participants are interested in personal development; that is, that they consciously reflect on their own respective situations, and that they are interested in following God more closely. One of the truths underlying this method is that there will be obstacles in our attempts to fulfil our calling. Perfect obedience is not a requirement for storylinking to help us gain clarity, but the desire to improve is necessary in order for us to do the hard work of overcoming or even simply admitting the difficulties that inevitably arise. 2. Another assumption is that participants’ understanding of themselves as Christians leads them to seek the Divine voice in their professional development and career planning. In storylinking, we discover the relevance of Scripture in our most important decisions. This process would be blocked by a worldview that limits religious practice to participation in church programmes only. 3. Finally, because storylinking is about liberation as well as vocation, we take as given not only that participants are seeking God’s will for their lives, but that at least once they have sensed some clarity in that search and, likewise, there has been at least one occasion when obstacles caused them frustration in discerning or fulfilling their calling. As has already been noted, Wimberly’s approach to storylinking depends on group discussion. Therefore, in a workshop space should be created for conversation. Included at relevant points during this paper are questions that can facilitate discussion.
II. The Standard Approach to Discerning Vocation As we take a look at storylinking as a method for discerning vocation, it can be helpful to consider this approach in light of how others have approached the discovering of God’s call. One helpful definition is Frederick Buechner’s sentiment: the place God calls us to is the place where our great joy and the world’s great need meet.2 Part of the beauty in this thought is the balance it allows. By reminding us of the importance of service to those in need while also recognising there are many ways to serve, Buechner’s observation is congruent with passages of Scripture.3 There can be, though, a temptation to convert the reflection into a kind of formula. Listing the needs of the world in one column and our own gifts or joys in another, literally or figuratively, we search for matches. Such an exercise in and of itself can be useful.
Wimberly Anne Streaty. Soul Stories: African American Christian Education. Nashville, 1994.
14
2
Buechner Frederick, Wishful Thinking. 1973. 95.
3 For example, 1 Corinthians 12 and Ephesians 4.
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Introduction
This is similar to the tests given to new military recruits, whereby their abilities are assessed, and they are then given assignments in which their skills are used to meet a larger strategic need. Even congregations have been known to use spiritual gifts discovery tests as a way to delegate the various means of service that keep the ministry running. As the ultimate tool for making career choices, though, this method can be overly mechanical and less than satisfying. Such analysis also forces us to highlight practical skills. Someone who is good with words, for example, may be led into language teaching, because the need for education is so evident. It could be the case, however, that the person’s true calling is to be a poet. Perhaps because he recognised the danger of an overly utilitarian definition of vocation, theologian and civil rights leader Howard Thurman urged: “Do not ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” Thurman’s advice should be taken seriously. As much need as there is in the world for doctors and nurses, a disillusioned and disappointed medical professional could ultimately do more harm than good. Conversely, as fleeting as the value of different sports or entertainment may seem to be, athletes and performers can offer inspiration and motivation in ways that defy formulaic assessments of need. What is more, for individuals with multiple interests and a wide range of gifts, deciding which particular skills set to focus on may require a discernment all its own, and in a world with a variety of crises, identifying the world’s deep need can be elusive. The problem, then, is not that an individual’s gifts or the needs of others are taken into consideration, but that attempts to bring these together maybe oversimplify this thing we call vocation. So we need to discuss and reflect upon what it is that our heart desires; what some of the world’s great needs, or the great needs of Central Europe, are; and whether we can find any places where these desires and needs meet. Furthermore, we must consider whether we have ever felt this kind of analysis helpful to our interests and the world’s needs; whether we have ever been frustrated or even misled by this approach; and whether we have ever used it with others and wondered if it were really doing the other person justice.
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III. From our Gifts and our World to God’s Work in God’s World In Experiencing God: Knowing and Doing the Will of God, Henry T. Blackaby and Claude V. King identify another typical question in the search for vocation, commenting on a flaw that could be present in the method we have discussed so far.4 According to these authors, the question “What is God’s will for our life?” is problematic in its focus on the speakers. The essence of the question is the individual’s life and a desire to know what God intends to do with it. Believing such a focus to be egocentric and too narrow, Blackaby and King suggest a broader question, one that centres around God rather than the questioners: “What is God’s will?” They go on to elaborate that as we pay attention to God’s will as revealed in Scripture, we must seek to observe what God is doing around us. The idea is that we identify what God is doing in the world around us, and then become a part of God’s activity. We might paraphrase this approach as a shift from “What does God want us to do?” to “How can we be a part of what God is doing?” We have already observed that reducing vocational discernment to an analysis of personal gifts and global needs can be limiting, but Buechner’s definition of vocation rings true in spite of how the thinking it expresses can be misused. So, too, does the question that Blackaby and King criticise. The problem is not that “What is God’s will for our life” is such a bad question, but that it needs to be complemented with others, reminding us that calling is about God’s call, and that our role is part of a greater picture where God’s hand is at work. Following this train of thought, there are a few observations of what God is doing in the world that we feel are particularly relevant for young people seeking a sense of vocation today. These observations will also be useful in understanding why storylinking is appropriate for our context. 1. In
recent history, the Church in Europe and North America has lost much of its influence in the lives of individuals. At one time the Church was rivalled only by the state (or the empire) in the amount of authority it held. Rites of passage, cultural identity and national celebrations were all areas of life in which people turned to 4
Blackaby Henry T. – King Claude V., Experiencing God: Knowing and Doing the Will of God. Nashville, 1990.
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the Church. While the historical factors involved vary in Central and Eastern Europe as opposed to Western Europe and North America, it is commonly agreed that this period of great influence, often referred to as the era of Christendom or the Christendom paradigm, is now a thing of the past. Many individuals are born, come of age, begin families and even die without ever expressing a desire for the Church to have a role in these events. When people do ask for baptism, marriage or funeral ceremonies, it is often done with the same attitude as that with which they might book the caterers or hairdressers. It is as if the Church is perceived to offer a venue and a service, but is not supposed to assert any authority in the areas of belief or certain lifestyle choices, as those are considered personal matters. Great value is placed on individuality, and the Church’s voice is sometimes seen as a threat to that. Alternatively, the Church is seen as quaint relic of the past. Popular culture, media and technology are exercising more influence on people’s everyday decision making and how they describe themselves. There are some countries or regions where political leaders seek the support of the Church, but there are also areas where policies are indifferent or even hostile to the Church’s teaching. It is difficult to describe this social change as an act of God, but we should be aware of the change because it influences vocational discernment. The traditional teaching of the Church will not necessarily be a factor even in the lives of young Christians as they seek God’s will for their lives. What is more, individuals intentionally linking their career choices with their faith may encounter obstacles if they refuse to work on Sundays, for example, or if they even make their own religious affiliation known at work. 2. The
decline of the Church’s influence described above does not apply to every continent. While the drop in membership worries churches in Europe and North America, the churches in Asia and Africa have enjoyed remarkable growth. The figures may vary from country to country, and the churches that are growing may be quite different from traditional European churches, but the fact is that in these parts of the world, the number of people who call themselves Christians has grown significantly. As we celebrate the work of God in these areas, we would also do well to note what the changes signify for the world Church. One hundred years ago, churches in North America and Europe were
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supporting missionaries who embarked to serve God in Africa and Asia. With the changes in the demographics of the world Church, though, we must recognise the growing voice of Christians in countries that were once called the “mission field”, even as the Church in Europe and North America is losing its voice, as it were. If we suspect that at least part of what is happening is the will of God, then our discernment processes must also reflect this conviction. Since rational-analytical approaches to vocational discernment were the product of a European mindset, in the context of the global Church we would do well to ask how discernment is sought in other cultures. 3. A
look at the demographics of the world and the Church today must also take note of how the role of women has changed. Although the status of women is not the same in every country or region, there are places all over the globe where women assert more visible leadership than even half a century ago. Women’s rights are more recognised, and the education of girls and women is more widespread than it used to be. In the Church, many denominations now ordain women as ministers. In churches where women are not ordained, the increased influence of the laity has given greater voice to women than they had before. It is our view that this change is another sign of God’s hand at work, and therefore another factor that should be taken into consideration in vocational discernment. Its significance goes beyond an increase in the number of areas in which women may feel called to serve. Recognising women as servants called by God, women and men alike should be open to the teaching of the Church’s women leaders in the area of discernment. All the thinkers cited in this paper so far have been men. If we are to take seriously the call of women, then we are remiss if we do not seek at least one woman’s voice as regards vocation. In summary, the role of the Church in various parts of the world has changed at the same time that the makeup of the Church itself has undergone change. For the Christian seeking discernment, the recognition of God’s hand at work should open us up to ways of discernment that may at first seem strange. If Western teaching has often emphasised analytical approaches, we may now open ourselves up to the wisdom of other traditions, such as narrative, and how they have aided the Church in other parts of the world. As the male thinkers of the Church have often been individualistic, the leadership of women may lead us into more communal methods of discernment.
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So we need to discuss and reflect upon to what extent we have observed the changes described in the previous section; to what degree we see these as evidence of God’s hand at work in the World; what are the other changes we are aware of in our world or in the region, and which of these changes we think are the results of God’s will; and how these changes might influence our practice of discernment.
IV. Storylinking as a Method of Discernment for the Global Church in the Post-Modern Era In our search for vocation we reflect not only on the abilities God has given us and how we might use them to help others, but on how we observe God at work in the world around us. After a cursory look at what God is doing in the global Church, we realise even before the outcome becomes clear that our very methods of discernment will be re-shaped when we take what we have observed into consideration. Vocational discernment in the XXIst century must incorporate women’s ways of knowing and the wisdom of the nonWestern world. A model of Christian education used in African American churches is storylinking. We feel this model, which places much emphasis on vocational discernment, can be applied in other settings as well. Before describing it in detail, though, one point must be clarified. In turning to storylinking as a non-Western model of discernment, we do not mean to suggest that African Americans are not an important population in the West. In her book, though, Wimberly repeatedly describes the historical roots and the current reality that lead African American Christians to go about Christian education in ways that warrant special attention. As we will see, part of the method she describes involves recounting stories from the African American faith heritage. If European and North American churches are sometimes described as Western, then the African American experience is distinct enough that it can provide new insight. Wimberly defines storylinking as a “process whereby we connect parts of our everyday stories with the Christian faith story in the Bible and the lives of exemplars of the Christian faith outside the Bible”.5 According to Wimberly’s description of this process, it is best experienced in a small group setting, in which the connections between the stories are made in such a way as to assist individual
5
Wimberly Anne Streaty. Soul Stories: African American Christian Education. Nashville, 1994. 38.
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participants in their own decision making. Wimberly also notes that the types of decisions with which participants seek help have to do with liberation and vocation. Wimberly’s explorations of liberation and vocation are too rich to summarise within the scope of this paper, but of immediate significance is the linking of the two terms at all – the recognition that in seeking to hear and obey God’s call, some people face obstacles. Because of prejudice, persecution and other forms of injustice, people are unable to pursue their path in the world until they are freed from the obstacles that block that path. Liberation is necessarily for vocation. Guided by Wimberly’s approach, then, we have more questions. In addition to “What is it we feel God is calling us to do?” we now must ask, “What blocks exist in our achieving that purpose?” and even, “How can they be/are they being overcome?” In Wimberly’s model of storylinking, participants are guided through a four-phase process as they struggle with questions of liberation and vocation. The first phase consists of engaging an everyday story, or a case study of some kind. The story may be presented as a written narrative or a recorded interview. The medium is not as important as the fact that it is a real person’s story from today. The participants are guided in reflecting on the story, and are also asked in what ways they identify with it. The second phase involves engagement with a story from the Bible. At this stage, the participants view the Bible story as a mirror, considering what the story shows them about the case study and about themselves. In their engagement with the Bible story, the participants may also imagine themselves entering the story and becoming partners with the characters or even with the author. The engagement is not complete until thought has been given to how God is acting in the story and in our stories, and how we might respond to God. It is in the third phase that participants engage with Christian faith stories from the African American heritage. At this point the discussion involves a recognition of the difficulties faced by an exemplar of the faith, and a search for the mindset that helped and continues to help in overcoming obstacles. Attention is also given to describing strategies for liberation and vocation. The fourth and final phase is in itself one of the impressive features of Wimberly’s method, and another deviation from mere analysis, for this stage consists of discerning God’s call for concrete
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action, and deciding which actions to take. The result can even be a programmatic response to a social problem, including breaking the programme down into steps. Of these four phases, the only one which may require adaptation for a Central European context is the third one. The emphasis on a story from the African American heritage is more than appropriate in African American church settings and, in fact, these stories are inspiring and educational for people from other countries as well. The model will have more effect, though, if phase three contains a story from the participants’ culture. Just as world music blends elements from various musical traditions, we would suggest that we acknowledge our gratitude to the African American churches for this contribution to Christian education methodology even as we adapt the method to suit our own context. Now we shall use an adapted form of Wimberly’s storylinking method to discuss vocation; what follows is an outline of how her method can be implemented.
1. Engaging the Everyday Story Although Wimberly describes various ways that an everyday case study can be presented to the participants, questions of time and context led me to take another route. We are assuming, as indicated at the beginning of this paper, not only that participants had stories of their own to tell, but that they would be willing to tell them. One of the nice features of this phase, as Wimberly presents it, is that it serves as a kind of warm-up period, giving the participants a story that is relevant to their lives without demanding too much selfdisclosure so early in the session. There are settings in which such a warm-up could be less necessary. One aspect of the participants’ story could interest us more than any other when applying this method to the Central European context. We could ask for participants to tell us their names and where they are from, perhaps adding their language of preference. We could also ask people how they travelled to the venue. Although the questions are fairly routine, we listen carefully to the answers and pay attention to body language. In Central Europe, relations between neighbouring nations can sometimes be tense, and at such times ethnic minorities suffer more verbal and physical abuse. Often the way the minorities are identified is by the language they speak. In a setting where prejudice between different nationalities
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does not thrive, students are more comfortable sharing information about themselves. We could then ask how they felt disclosing information about their nationality, and whether there had ever been occasions when they were more reticent to make it known, for example by speaking their own language in public. Because of storylinking’s emphasis on liberation, we can handle the usual introductions in a way that might later allow for connections with obstacles to vocation and the need for liberation.
2. Engaging the Bible Story For this part of the session, Daniel 1,1–17 could be read aloud. We review the development of what happened, and then with guiding questions we begin to explore any possible connections between Daniel and the participants of the conference. Some of the questions included could be the following: Where were Daniel and his friends from? How old were they when they left their homes? What do we know about the languages they spoke? How did their ethnic identity influence the way people viewed them? Based on what we know about Daniel and his friends, what do we think they felt God was calling them to do? What barriers might have prevented them from fulfilling their vocation? After establishing some sense of who Daniel and his friends were and what they were going through, we may return to discussion of the participants’ own lives. We can ask which parts of Daniel’s story resonate with them, and might receive a variety of answers. The fact that Daniel and his friends have different customs than the others around them is something that Christian youth and young adults often identify with. Some of the conference participants might mention how it could be isolating to live by Christian values in a European university setting. Someone else might describe how she was ostracised in her small village because she was pursuing higher education.
3. Engaging the Christian Faith Story Knowing that the participants are coming from different countries, we might decide against choosing the story of someone from any one of those countries. Instead, we might look at the story of Jane Haining, a Scottish missionary who served in Hungary in the early part of the XXth century.
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Jane Haining was born in a rural community in Scotland; when she was only five, her mother passed away giving birth to Jane’s younger sister, Helen. Jane did very well in school, winning a competition that allowed her to leave home and study at Dumfries Academy when she was still twelve years old. During her six years there, she won recognition in several subjects, including French, German and Latin. As Jane had been raised in the church, she continued her church involvement when she moved to Glasgow as a young adult. After hearing a missionary’s report and seeing an advertisement in a magazine, she decided God was calling her to be a missionary at the Scottish Mission School in Budapest, Hungary. Her application was not immediately successful, but eventually the Church of Scotland did send her to be the matron of a school in Budapest where Jewish girls and Christian girls lived and learned together. Once in Hungary, Jane amazed everyone with how quickly she was able to become fluent in Magyar, with how well she managed the business of the school, and with the kindness and compassion she showed all of the girls. Although she was there as a Christian missionary, the Jewish girls would later comment on how she respected their heritage as well. As Adolf Hitler rose to power and started showing his ambition for the rest of Europe as well and his spite for the Jews, the Church of Scotland tried to call Jane Haining home, but she refused to go. Eventually she would be arrested for, among other charges, crying when she had to sew yellow stars on their clothes. Ultimately Jane Haining died at Auschwitz-Birkenau. As we engage with her story, we again try to make connections. In both Jane Haining’s and Daniel’s stories we see people who were gifted with languages and other subjects and who demonstrated leadership ability. Although we do not dwell on the connection too much, the relevance for university students in Central and Eastern Europe is not lost. We may also note how both Jane Haining and Daniel were persecuted for living according to their religious convictions. In both cases, it may seem to the participants that faith helped both of them put their sufferings into perspective and not lose hope.
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4. Engaging in Christian Ethical Decision Making By this point in the session, the discussion is hopefully very lively, needing more moderation than encouragement. Because we are ‘transplanting’ this approach to storylinking, we might ask the students how appropriate they think it is for the Central and Eastern European context. They might think, for example, that it helped ensure the discussion of discernment did not remain a consideration only of abstractions. The main purpose of the fourth phase is to come up with plans for concrete action. Because of the time pressures and the newness of this approach, the main concrete action we might consider is whether or not the participants themselves would plan to use this method in their own respective settings. There may be varying levels of commitment to the idea, ranging from openness to enthusiastic commitment. The participants might agree that for the rest of the seminar, if names of exemplars of the faith from their own respective countries occur to them, they would list these for all to see. The purpose of this activity is to get participants to think about heroes in the faith from their own cultural heritage. It is a bonus that they remain interested in the stories of such figures from other countries as well. So we need to discuss and reflect upon people of faith in our own cultural tradition who would be helpful examples for our context: historical figures with whom we identify either nationally, culturally, linguistically, vocationally or because of gender. We might also consider whether this method has raised any insights for us; if this method brought to us something new; if insights arose in it; where we could envision applying this method (for example, in a Bible Study, during times of personal devotion or while counselling our peers), and the concerns we have before using it; whether we feel God calling us in any way to use this method; and whether there are barriers that might prevent us from doing so. The question of what God is calling us to do is both important and challenging. What this paper has set out to show is that how to ask the question is a challenge in itself. We have considered how vocation must be put into a larger perspective than the person actually seeking it, and how in our changing world new ways of vocational discernment are worthy of attention. Finally, the African American model of storylinking is explored as one way of vocational discernment for the global Church in the XXIst century.
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Libor Marek
Marriage as Vocation and its Value (Based on 1Cor 7,32–35)
“I should like you to be free of anxieties. An unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord. But a married man is anxious about the things of the world, how he may please his wife, and he is divided. An unmarried woman or a virgin is anxious about the things of the Lord, so that she may be holy in both body and spirit. A married woman, on the other hand, is anxious about the things of the world, how she may please her husband. I am telling you this for your own benefit, not to impose a restraint upon you, but for the sake of propriety and adherence to the Lord without distraction” (1Cor 7,32–35).
I. Two Kinds of Anxiety Most people are familiar with using the words “call” and “vocation” as part of religious terminology in areas that are related to the priestly and/or consecrated way of life. At the same time, marriage is usually regarded as something more “ordinary”, which does not fall under this type of terminology. Many people also believe that marriage is, in a certain way, an easier path, and even that it is less valuable and ranks behind the priestly vocation. Such claims appeal to Saint Paul as if he had approved these ideas. They claim that Paul, though not being directly opposed to marriage, still placed it somewhere after celibacy. This kind of thinking has existed throughout history and constantly pops up in different forms. In order to discuss and challenge this point of view, I have chosen a text frequently quoted as supporting such a claim. The passage is taken from the First Letter to the Corinthians 7,32–35. A plain-face reading of this text seems to suggest, and even intensify, the negative idea about Paul and his attitudes towards marriage.
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4. Engaging in Christian Ethical Decision Making By this point in the session, the discussion is hopefully very lively, needing more moderation than encouragement. Because we are ‘transplanting’ this approach to storylinking, we might ask the students how appropriate they think it is for the Central and Eastern European context. They might think, for example, that it helped ensure the discussion of discernment did not remain a consideration only of abstractions. The main purpose of the fourth phase is to come up with plans for concrete action. Because of the time pressures and the newness of this approach, the main concrete action we might consider is whether or not the participants themselves would plan to use this method in their own respective settings. There may be varying levels of commitment to the idea, ranging from openness to enthusiastic commitment. The participants might agree that for the rest of the seminar, if names of exemplars of the faith from their own respective countries occur to them, they would list these for all to see. The purpose of this activity is to get participants to think about heroes in the faith from their own cultural heritage. It is a bonus that they remain interested in the stories of such figures from other countries as well. So we need to discuss and reflect upon people of faith in our own cultural tradition who would be helpful examples for our context: historical figures with whom we identify either nationally, culturally, linguistically, vocationally or because of gender. We might also consider whether this method has raised any insights for us; if this method brought to us something new; if insights arose in it; where we could envision applying this method (for example, in a Bible Study, during times of personal devotion or while counselling our peers), and the concerns we have before using it; whether we feel God calling us in any way to use this method; and whether there are barriers that might prevent us from doing so. The question of what God is calling us to do is both important and challenging. What this paper has set out to show is that how to ask the question is a challenge in itself. We have considered how vocation must be put into a larger perspective than the person actually seeking it, and how in our changing world new ways of vocational discernment are worthy of attention. Finally, the African American model of storylinking is explored as one way of vocational discernment for the global Church in the XXIst century.
26
Libor Marek
Marriage as Vocation and its Value (Based on 1Cor 7,32–35)
“I should like you to be free of anxieties. An unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord. But a married man is anxious about the things of the world, how he may please his wife, and he is divided. An unmarried woman or a virgin is anxious about the things of the Lord, so that she may be holy in both body and spirit. A married woman, on the other hand, is anxious about the things of the world, how she may please her husband. I am telling you this for your own benefit, not to impose a restraint upon you, but for the sake of propriety and adherence to the Lord without distraction” (1Cor 7,32–35).
I. Two Kinds of Anxiety Most people are familiar with using the words “call” and “vocation” as part of religious terminology in areas that are related to the priestly and/or consecrated way of life. At the same time, marriage is usually regarded as something more “ordinary”, which does not fall under this type of terminology. Many people also believe that marriage is, in a certain way, an easier path, and even that it is less valuable and ranks behind the priestly vocation. Such claims appeal to Saint Paul as if he had approved these ideas. They claim that Paul, though not being directly opposed to marriage, still placed it somewhere after celibacy. This kind of thinking has existed throughout history and constantly pops up in different forms. In order to discuss and challenge this point of view, I have chosen a text frequently quoted as supporting such a claim. The passage is taken from the First Letter to the Corinthians 7,32–35. A plain-face reading of this text seems to suggest, and even intensify, the negative idea about Paul and his attitudes towards marriage.
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Libor M arek : Marriage as Vocation
The words “An unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord. But a married man is anxious about the things of the world, how he may please his wife, and he is divided” make us think that Paul prefers celibacy and, therefore, recommends not entering into marriage. He seems to have a negative attitude towards marriage – as if marriage were presented as less valuable or worse in regards to the possibility of attaining salvation (things of the Lord). What is behind this way of thinking are two kinds of anxiety: anxiety for the things of the Lord and for the things of the world. The text uses the same Greek root in both instances – in a positive and a negative sense: first, being anxious, being unduly concerned; and second, being properly concerned for, devoting concern to.1 Such a use of the same word in opposing senses is not unique: Phil 4,6 is a prohibition against anxiety (“have no anxiety at all”), while Phil 2,20 is an encouraging concern for other people (a genuine interest). This concern is exemplified in caring for the things of the Lord and for the things of the world (how to please a spouse). Caring for something or somebody is a part of human life, and Paul does not advise negating or removing it. The problem here is the division caused by this dual concern. It is like being pulled in two directions (parcelling out time, attention, energies and tasks).2 Paul’s concern is to reorient that care, so that a person is not torn apart by useless worry over things that do not matter. These fruitless concerns can be removed by trusting that God takes care of us. God knows what we truly need more than we do.3 In other words, caring for the things of the world (spouse) is not intrinsically bad. It only becomes a negative element if it prevents a person from being concerned about the things of the Lord (like every other concern or interest a person might have). Paul does not criticise the kind of care one has for her or his spouse. Committing oneself to a spouse in marriage naturally involves a high degree of care and concern. It imposes demands and responsibilities that must not be neglected. The problem is not marriage taken by itself, but the danger it might induce: becoming too distracted trying to please the partner.4 1Cor 7,28 can be quoted as well (“If you marry, however, you do not sin, nor does an unmarried woman sin if she marries”) to show 1 Thiselton A. C., The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary. Eerdmans, 2000. 586. 2 Thiselton A. C., The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary. Eerdmans, 2000. 590. 3 Garland D. E., 1 Corinthians. Baker, 2003. 332. 4 Garland D. E., 1 Corinthians. Baker, 2003. 333–334.
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that there is nothing intrinsically wrong with marriage: it is not a determining obstacle to “pleasing the Lord”.5
II. Concern for Holiness The anxiety about the things of the Lord is combined with the concern for being “holy in both body and spirit” that is mentioned (34). This holiness is presupposed as proper to those who care for the Lord and is explicitly mentioned in the case of women.6 It is to be understood in the larger context of the Old Testament, where holiness is intended as belonging exclusively to God: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts!” (Is 6,3). Another meaning of holiness is the sense of devoted attention and service to the Lord.7 Consequently, holiness is presupposed for those who serve God: “You shall make and keep yourselves holy, because I am holy” (Lev 11,44). Being holy in body is not equivalent to avoiding sexual relations which are presupposed to belong to marriage. There is no textual basis for drawing this kind of conclusion. One cannot make the proper use of sexuality responsible for the loss of holiness. It is, rather, its misuse which may have that effect. All Christians, whether married or not, are called to and expected to live in holiness. Paul expresses several times this important principle, valid for everyone without distinction: “May the God of peace make you perfectly holy and may you entirely, spirit, soul, and body, be preserved blameless for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ” (1Thes 5,23); “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, Whom you have from God, and that you are not your own? For you have been purchased at a price. Therefore, glorify God in your body” (1Cor 6,19–20; see also Rom 6,12.19; 12,1; 2Cor 7,1; Phil 1,20; 1Thes 4,4).8 Whether mentioned independently or together, body and spirit are both intended to be preserved and kept in holiness. They describe the whole person, who should strive to be holy in every way and totally devoted to the Lord.9 5 Thiselton A. C., The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary. Eerdmans, 2000. 588. 6 Barrett C. K., A Commentary on the First Epistle to the Corinthians (BNTC). Black, 1968. 181.
The author explains this to be a “quotation from a Corinthian ascetical party”. Collins R. F., First Corinthians. Liturgical Press, 1999. 292. The author sees it as a “Corinthian buzzword used to describe a specific group of well-intentioned and zealous unmarried women in Corinth”. These claims are based mostly on conclusions without a firm textual basis, and therefore it seems more prudent to follow and explain the text.
7 Thiselton A. C., The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary. Eerdmans, 2000. 591. 8 Garland D. E., 1 Corinthians. Baker, 2003. 335. 9 Schrage W., Der erste Brief an die Korinther. Evangelisch-Katholischer Kommentar zum NT 7,1.
Neukirchen, 1995. 180.
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Paul is telling all that “for the sake of propriety and adherence to the Lord without distraction” (35). His primary concern is adherence and devotion to the Lord. If this goal of Christian life is preserved, being married is in no way to be seen in a negative light. A Christian wife and husband can also encourage and enhance each other’s devotion to the Lord, even though they might be distracted by family responsibilities.10
III. Different Vocations For a proper understanding of this passage and Paul’s attitude about marriage in general, we need to consider this text in the larger context of 1Corinthians and Paul’s teaching on this matter. First of all, let us go back to 1Cor 7,7, where he states: “I wish everyone to be as I am, but each has a particular gift from God, one of one kind and one of another.” Paul is very realistic and is aware that people live differently, since they have different vocations: one for marriage, another for consecrated life or priesthood, and still another for the single life. This is in conformity with the principle stated elsewhere: “In one body we have many parts, and all the parts do not have the same function” (Rom 12,4). This teaching about the diversity of functions in favour of the whole body is developed in detail in 1Cor 12. Marriage and married life is one of the options, one of the functions performed for the benefit of the Body of Christ – the Church – by some of its members. Though having equal dignity, various vocations and positions have different functions. But finally, all of them are supposed to be beneficial to the whole. This profit will be reached only if every part fulfils its function; if every person contributes according to her or his best abilities for the benefit of the whole. Here is the basis for encouraging everyone to live according to one’s vocation: “I, then, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to live in a manner worthy of the call you have received” (Eph 4,1) – in the state to which she or he is called by God; this is the best place for her or him.
IV. Vocational Discernment Another, more practical question arises now, and it is that of vocational discernment. Since there are different options, how does one know which one is the most fitting and which one to choose? 10 Thiselton A. C., The First Epistle to the Corinthians: A Commentary. Eerdmans, 2000. 593.
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This question is large and complex, and it cannot be discussed in detail here. What is behind this is the Christian conviction that God holds the life of every person in God’s hands. We are not masters but only administrators. When discerning the concrete way of life and which position to take in human society and in the Church, one tries to determine the option intended for her or him by God and to pursue it to the best of one’s abilities. All discernment rests on the following premise: God manifests his will both from within us and through the numerous circumstances which make up our lives.11 In no way is human freedom negated here, since it is always and fully a human decision that is made. Human freedom is exercised in the moments of deciding and determining one’s life. We are free to decide whatever seems best for us. On a deeper level, though, we believe that God knows what is best for us. Determining and choosing God’s option does not negate human freedom, but is a simple protection from many painful errors committed by those who pretend to know everything themselves, while refusing insights from God Who knows us better than we do: “Lord, You know when I sit and stand; You understand my thoughts from afar. Even before a word is on my tongue, Lord, You know it all” (Psalm 139,2–4). We are always free to follow or refuse the best option for us. By following it we exercise our freedom, while at the same time protect ourselves from dangers. This is a sign of wisdom on our part. Following and developing our vocation allows more space open for human freedom: there are no limits set on personal growth in perfection and holiness in accord with the chosen way of life – the vocation.
V. Guidelines for Discernment In order to know concretely our vocation, we can follow a few simple guidelines that can be helpful and facilitate the process of discernment. It can be said that life in the state of grace is the basic presupposition for knowing and learning God’s will. Grace is our state and/or our ability to live in fellowship with God. On a purely human level, the relationships we build and the closeness we gain to some people enable us to communicate with them intensely and share with them even personal information. Similarly, when searching for an answer to the question about 11 Nemeck F. K. – Coombs M. T., The Way of Spiritual Direction. Liturgical Press, 1990. 51–94.
Eternal Values: Hunting for Vocation
God’s purpose for my life, it is important to live in friendship with God. It would not make much sense to ask questions of, and expect solid answers from, someone with whom we have no contact and no convergent points in common. If there is no regular contact, we can hardly expect to be on the same wavelength in extraordinary and once-in-a-lifetime situations, like that of vocational discernment, which has lifelong consequences. Besides striving to know God’s will, it is important to know ourselves – our own capacities and qualities – and to seek out where to use them. The idea behind this is that when God calls us to any position and/or task, God does not contradict Godself. God does not call us to tasks which we are not qualified for or capable of accomplishing. As the saying goes, Gratia supponit naturam12: when God chooses people, he makes sure they have the necessary talents. Or in other words, God chooses those people who have the expected qualifications that are necessary in order to be able to perform the task they are chosen for. Life in the state of grace goes hand in hand with a particular effort to know oneself by understanding what one’s strong and weak points are, understanding the talents one has received, gained or learned throughout the years, knowing the areas where these talents can be best exercised and where they can bring the most benefit, and how to facilitate growth and development of these talents.
VI. Perfection of Vocation We cannot categorically say that one vocation is better or more valuable than another. We cannot claim that, for example, marriage or consecrated life is by definition better than any other vocation, for instance single life. It can even be misleading to speak about the perfection of a vocation. Rather, we should consider the perfection of a person who is actually living the given vocation, keeping in mind that our human scales for perfection might differ considerably from God’s standards. Perfection does not depend on the vocation itself, but on the way it is lived. Perfection is not the vocation itself, or the circumstances surrounding it, but the person and her or his involvement is what counts. A few examples illustrating this principle include: entering into marriage can be done with the best intention of sacrifice for one particular person and secondarily for a larger family. “Commitment in love between a wife and a husband is the symbol of the Lord’s 12 “Grace does not destroy nature, but perfects it.” Aquinas Thomas, Summa Theologiæ. I. 1. 8. ad 2.
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unremitting love for each of God’s people. Growth in love between spouses is a unique embodiment of the Lord’s transforming and purifying love for every person.”13 On the other hand, life in marriage can also be understood as a means for one’s own gratification: opting for marital life purely because of its physical and sensual dimensions is a misunderstanding and a degradation of the marriage and both partners at the same time. Similarly, priesthood can be lived as a sacrifice involving a strong communal dimension: this is first of all the community of Father, Son and Holy Spirit as the source of Christian community; and second, it is a Christian community of people sharing the same faith and participating in the community of the Trinity.14 This way of life includes a special aspect of being ready to serve. It does not follow one’s own choices or preferences as to whom one serves, or who are the fellow co-workers, or the methods to be used, or the place, time or duration of service. Giving up the possibility of choosing these important issues, one expresses her or his readiness and acceptance to trust in the legitimate superiors and their decision of God’s will for the given moment, and a desire to fulfil it to the best of one’s abilities. If, however, priesthood is lived as a way of spending life without concerns for one’s livelihood and without existential difficulties, it will hardly become a way to personal perfection. There is also another alternative, and that is single life. Remaining single, avoiding all the concerns and toils of both married and consecrated life, can be a sign of selfishness and laziness. It can be lived as a way to obtain the most possible benefits and maximum profits with minimal effort (what would be called “efficiency” in modern language). But the advantages that go hand-in-hand with the single life can be put toward the service of others. The increased availability for involvement and the constant readiness to choose the fields of one’s activity according to one’s qualities and desires is a great gift that a single person can give to the larger community. If the single life is lived in this way, it will be highly appreciated by those who profit from it.
13 Nemeck F. K. – Coombs M. T., Discerning Vocations to Marriage, Celibacy and Singlehood. Liturgical
Press, 1994. 54. 14 Nemeck F. K. – Coombs M. T., Discerning Vocations to Marriage, Celibacy and Singlehood. Liturgical
Eternal Values: Hunting for Vocation
VII. Sacrifice and Sanctification Based on what has been covered, we can conclude that it is not the state of life itself that makes us more or less perfect, but the way we live our vocation. It is not something around us that guarantees us anything, but our sincere effort to live in truth our vocation with a spirit of sacrifice. This leads us to move further: if marriage is intended as a true vocation, it offers a fully valuable means to grow in perfection, and it is a complete way to holiness. It is not a choice of an easier and more comfortable way of life, trying to avoid the challenges of priesthood and consecrated life. Marriage too can be, and frequently is, hard. There are many experiences and proof of this fact. It is exactly the thing that Paul writes about: “An unmarried man is anxious about the things of the Lord, how he may please the Lord. But a married man is anxious about the things of the world, how he may please his wife. […] An unmarried woman or a virgin is anxious about the things of the Lord, so that she may be holy in both body and spirit. A married woman, on the other hand, is anxious about the things of the world, how she may please her husband” (1Cor 7,32–34). When the effort to be pleasing to the wife or husband is mentioned, Paul does not describe this as a sin or as something negative to be avoided. It is only his statement about the situation in which the biggest part of his audience lives, which is not always easy. Also, his intention is not to convince everyone to leave the married life and exchange it for consecrated life. Such a movement would cause uproar in society and possibly have far-reaching effects if applied on a larger scale. Paul does not have such broad intentions. His main concern is to give guidelines for family life. He is saying that striving to please a wife and husband in marriage is more difficult than striving to please the Lord. People are sometimes unpredictable, while God does not disappoint. From this point of view we could even say that marriage is presented as a more challenging choice, since it involves elements that are out of one’s control. Still, in spite of the possible obstacles that might occur in marriage, it is a fully legitimate and valuable way to perfection and holiness, even with all of its challenges. Paul states a few verses earlier in this same letter that “the unbelieving husband is made holy through his wife, and the unbelieving wife is made holy through the brother”
Press, 1994. 148.
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(1Cor 7,14). If an unbeliever is sanctified in her or his believing partner in marriage, a fortiori it must be true if both of them are believers! Marriage is a way of sanctification – obviously for those who are called to this state of life. Sanctification in a partner means being helped to sanctity: we do not become perfect just by and for ourselves, but together with others. And this is even truer in the closely shared married life. One partner draws the other one so that if one grows in holiness, the other partner grows, too. But balance has to be kept: not only can one take, but one also must give, since one can hardly pull both partners ahead; one cannot paddle on both sides of the boat for a long period of time. It is true also the other way around: if one goes down, she or he sinks the other partner too. The beauty of a marriage consists in this: partners can help each other. On the other hand, it can also be challenging and arduous when one of them starts to misuse the advantages and fails to contribute to the common reservoir. Life in marriage provides many occasions to grow in holiness. It is enough to open one’s eyes and discover those typical situations and circumstances that enable one to grow and to pull her or his partner toward the good, as well. These all are small things, but in a global sense they are valuable and important. Sacrifice for the good and comfort of a partner, readiness to listen and adapt and the desire to also help and fulfil the unexpressed needs of a partner are things that help to grow in holiness – and not only for the one who performs them. The reciprocal relationship in marriage makes each partner prosper through shared holiness. Such behaviour is possible only by keeping in mind the “introduction” to marriage: its goal is not to make oneself happy, but one’s partner.
Pavel Hanes
The Response of the New Testament Church to Material Needs and Materialism Has not God chosen those, who are poor in the eyes of the world, to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom? (James 2,5)
First of all, the period of the New Testament Church has to be defined. The “New Testament Church” – is it the Church in existence in the time of Jesus Christ and his disciples, ie. in the period before the beginning of Paul’s mission to the Gentiles? Or does it also include the period of the Apostolic Fathers? There is no universally accepted answer to this question. Different answers are given by different authors. For example, Adolf Harnack offers a very dissimilar answer to any given by a Roman Catholic theologian. One possible solution is given in Rudolf Bultmann’s book Primitive Christianity.1 Bultmann maintains that Christianity is a syncretistic religion, but all his quotations describing early Christianity are taken from the New Testament. In spite of some reservations with Bultmann’s theology, I use his definition of the period, and limit the theological discussion to quotations from the New Testament. Other quotations are given for historical and illustrative purposes. As I see it, the response of the New Testament Church to material needs was diaconate, and her response to materialism was warning against the spiritual and ethical dangers of wealth. The first consisted mainly in actions and the second consisted mainly in words. These two things – words and deeds – are inseparably united in the response of the New Testament Church to the problems of the world, although we 1 Bultmann Rudolf, Primitive Christianity (trans. Fuller R. H.). New York, 1956.
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(1Cor 7,14). If an unbeliever is sanctified in her or his believing partner in marriage, a fortiori it must be true if both of them are believers! Marriage is a way of sanctification – obviously for those who are called to this state of life. Sanctification in a partner means being helped to sanctity: we do not become perfect just by and for ourselves, but together with others. And this is even truer in the closely shared married life. One partner draws the other one so that if one grows in holiness, the other partner grows, too. But balance has to be kept: not only can one take, but one also must give, since one can hardly pull both partners ahead; one cannot paddle on both sides of the boat for a long period of time. It is true also the other way around: if one goes down, she or he sinks the other partner too. The beauty of a marriage consists in this: partners can help each other. On the other hand, it can also be challenging and arduous when one of them starts to misuse the advantages and fails to contribute to the common reservoir. Life in marriage provides many occasions to grow in holiness. It is enough to open one’s eyes and discover those typical situations and circumstances that enable one to grow and to pull her or his partner toward the good, as well. These all are small things, but in a global sense they are valuable and important. Sacrifice for the good and comfort of a partner, readiness to listen and adapt and the desire to also help and fulfil the unexpressed needs of a partner are things that help to grow in holiness – and not only for the one who performs them. The reciprocal relationship in marriage makes each partner prosper through shared holiness. Such behaviour is possible only by keeping in mind the “introduction” to marriage: its goal is not to make oneself happy, but one’s partner.
Pavel Hanes
The Response of the New Testament Church to Material Needs and Materialism Has not God chosen those, who are poor in the eyes of the world, to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom? (James 2,5)
First of all, the period of the New Testament Church has to be defined. The “New Testament Church” – is it the Church in existence in the time of Jesus Christ and his disciples, ie. in the period before the beginning of Paul’s mission to the Gentiles? Or does it also include the period of the Apostolic Fathers? There is no universally accepted answer to this question. Different answers are given by different authors. For example, Adolf Harnack offers a very dissimilar answer to any given by a Roman Catholic theologian. One possible solution is given in Rudolf Bultmann’s book Primitive Christianity.1 Bultmann maintains that Christianity is a syncretistic religion, but all his quotations describing early Christianity are taken from the New Testament. In spite of some reservations with Bultmann’s theology, I use his definition of the period, and limit the theological discussion to quotations from the New Testament. Other quotations are given for historical and illustrative purposes. As I see it, the response of the New Testament Church to material needs was diaconate, and her response to materialism was warning against the spiritual and ethical dangers of wealth. The first consisted mainly in actions and the second consisted mainly in words. These two things – words and deeds – are inseparably united in the response of the New Testament Church to the problems of the world, although we 1 Bultmann Rudolf, Primitive Christianity (trans. Fuller R. H.). New York, 1956.
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Introduction
have always to remember what Helmut Thielicke says: “The specifically Christian element in ethics does not emerge at the level of acts and in ethical programs. (...) The specifically “Christian” element in ethics is found only at the level of motives.”2 This simply means that one cannot tell whether words or deeds are Christian just by listening or observing. Before we say anything we must understand that the response of the New Testament Church to the issues of material needs on the one hand and materialism on the other was her focusing on the right motives in correcting the respective problems: she concentrated her energies on building up faith and Christian love. That is why it is not enough to be interested in the history of Christian social action, we need to study also the interpretation of those actions in the texts that explain them and give them specifically Christian meaning.
I. The New Testament Church and Poverty The way in which the New Testament understands poverty is based on the theology of the Old Testament. Here the words describing the poor are mostly – especially in the Psalms – closely connected with oppression, humility and piety. Here the poor are God’s poor; they are oppressed and expect and get help from God. Their attitude has nothing to do with the Marxist idea of risen proletariat demanding its historical rights using revolutionary violence. The Lord God identifies with the poor as described in the Bible (Proverbs 19,17). According to the Old Testament understanding, the New Testament Church made a difference between the purely physical poverty and the poverty that found its expression in piety and humility. We can see this differentiation in Jesus Christ’s expression, the poor in spirit (Matthew 5,3). This expression is an exact equivalent of the Hebrew poor and humble (Psalms 9,12; 25,9; Proverbs 16,19). Also the remark found in the Letter to Timothy shows that not everyone who is physically poor should be an object of Church’s care. This can be illustrated by the “definition” of who is “widow” – it is a woman who “puts her hope in God and continues night and day to pray and to ask God for help” (1Timothy 5,5). To give somewhat closer view of how the Early Church cared for the poor here are few quotations: Philip Schaff says: “The churches (…) were largely charitable institutions for the support of widows and orphans, strangers and travellers, aged and infirm people in an age 2 Thielicke Helmut, Theological Ethics I. (trans. Lazareth W. H.). Philadelphia, 1966. 19–20.
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of extreme riches and extreme poverty.”3 Here are some quotations from early Christian authors: Clement of Rome wrote in the Epistle to the Corinthians: “Let the strong not despise the weak, and let the weak show respect unto the strong. Let the rich man provide for the wants of the poor; and let the poor man bless God, because God has given him one by whom his need may be supplied.”4 Polycarp wrote to the Philippians: “And let the presbyters be compassionate and merciful to all, bringing back those that wander, visiting all the sick, and not neglecting the widow, the orphan, or the poor, but always ‘providing for that which is becoming in the sight of God and man’; abstaining from all wrath, respect of persons, and unjust judgment; keeping far off from all covetousness.”5 And Aristides, the apologist, wrote this testimony to the Roman Cæsar around the year 140: “Falsehood is not found among them; and they love one another, and from widows they do not turn away their esteem; and they deliver the orphan from him who treats him harshly. And he, who has, gives to him who has not, without boasting. And when they see a stranger, they take him into their homes and rejoice over him as a very brother; for they do not call them brethren after the flesh, but brethren after the spirit and in God. And whenever one of their poor passes from the world, each one of them according to his ability gives heed to him and carefully sees to his burial. And if they hear that one of their numbers is imprisoned or afflicted on account of the name of their Messiah, all of them anxiously minister to his necessity; and if it is possible to redeem him, they set him free. And if there is among them any that is poor and needy, and if they have no spare food, they fast two or three days in order to supply to the needy their lack of food.”6 Let us return to the Bible again. Although the Old Testament pays close attention to the poor, physical poverty does not mean that the poor should be somehow privileged. A good example of this principle is the warning given in Exodus 23,3: “Do not show favouritism to a poor man in his lawsuit.” The same can be told about the New Testament attitude towards 3 Schaff Philip, History of the Christian Church. Oak Harbor, 1997. 499–500. 4 Clement of Rome, The First Epistle to the Corinthians (trans. Keith J.). In Menzies a. (ed.), Ante-Nicene
Fathers. Peabody, 1994. 240.
5 Polycarp, The Epistle to the Philippians. In Roberts Alexander – Donaldson James (eds.), Ante-Nicene
Fathers I. Peabody, 1994. 34.
6 Aristides, The Apology (trans. Harris J. Rendel). In http://www.tertullian.org/fathers/aristides_02_
trans.htm.
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the poor. In Luke 14,13 we read the appeal of Jesus Christ to always pay special attention to “the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind”. And Paul in the Epistle to the Galatians goes so far as to change his topic when he tells of the instruction he got in Jerusalem not to forget the poor (Galatians 2,10). According to Luke 6,20, in Jesus Christ’s words, the poor are blessed: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the Kingdom of God.” It is because they are more ready to get something much better, something that the rich will get only with serious difficulties. And James states, without reservations, that God had chosen the poor “to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom” (James 2,5). But despite the great emphasis in the Bible on the care for the poor, the social aid due to them is in many ways of a secondary order. For example, it was secondary to Jesus Christ’s mission to preach: when reminded of the sick and need waiting for him he gave a blunt answer: “Let us go on to the next towns, that I may preach there also; for that is why I came out.” (Mark 1,34–38). And in Luke 4,10 Jesus Christ quotes the passage from Isaiah 61,1: “The Spirit of the Lord (…) has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.” A similar principle is used by the apostles in the sixth chapter of the Acts of Apostles, when they refuse to abandon preaching and prayers, but they appoint deacons for social service (Acts 6,1–4). Social aid was also secondary to the devotion to Jesus Christ himself, seen at the occasion when Judas criticised the “waste” of precious ointment in Matthew 26,11. The same assessment must be applied to what is sometimes called “Jerusalem communism” (Acts 2,44; 4,32–37). The meaning of this fellowship and sharing was in the expression of the spiritual unity of the Church, not in the total social equalisation. We can see it in the case of Ananias and Saphira (Acts 5,4) whose gift to the Church was rejected because of their wrong motive in giving it. Although 2 Corinthians 8,13 speaks about equality, its purpose clearly is not egalitarianism, as it does not refer to a forced response of the Church as a whole, but to a voluntary decision of an individual who has wealth. Besides, the spontaneity of Jerusalem communism later gave way to an organised diaconate. The beginnings of the diaconate are recorded in Acts 6,1–5. Later “charity initiatives” can be seen in the activities of Tabitha in Acts 9,36, and in the voluntary offering given as a ministry to the poor in Judea (2 Corinthians 9). It is important to stress that those who are the object of Church’s care must not misuse it. The well-known expression of this
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principle is the following: “If a man will not work, he shall not eat” (2Thessalonians 3,10). When the Church applies such strict principle for directing social aid, it will not become a questionable support of laziness and abuse. Her help is aimed at the weak (Acts 20,35) who, despite their efforts to find a job and work, still cannot support themselves. The profoundly deeper Biblical meaning of material aid given to the poor is admirably expressed in the Greek word alms. In the LXX, the Hebrew words for mercy or loving kindness, justice, and, in one place, truth (Genesis 47,29), are translated as alms. These are the words that represent the ultimate meaning of Christian social action. It is an expression of God’s mercy; and it also speaks of justice in accordance with the law of God, in which love is central. After all of the help provided, the poor receiving church-alms may still remain poor, but they know that God cares in the present, and they look forward to the Kingdom of God that is coming. We can summarize by saying: the purpose of giving material aid by the Church is kerygmatic, it is done to convey a message, the good news of God’s love and salvation.
II. The New Testament Church and Materialism The word materialism has a very wide semantic field; it has several meanings, but basically it is used either in its philosophical sense or in its ethical sense. One can briefly summarise philosophical materialism by its definition that “everything has its origin in matter, and everything can be explained by the processes that occur in matter”. Materialism in its ethical sense can be described by the statement that says: “material goods are the most important things for the human being, for her or his existence and happiness”. 1Timothy 6,17 expresses such state of mind as the putting of “hope in wealth, which is so uncertain”. Another possible definition is “the idolatrous elevation of money and the material possessions it will buy as the goal of life”.7 These two aspects of materialism are often, but not always, interconnected. Consequently, we meet people who are convinced materialists in their worldview, but at the same time they are “idealists” and unselfish, who find fulfilment in cultivating the human spirit or in philanthropy. On the other hand, there are philosophical idealists, or those who
Eternal Values: Hunting for Vocation
have a religious worldview and believe in God, but their everyday life and ethics are determined by the pursuit of material goods. First of all: if we wish to use the response of the New Testament Church as a model for the Church in our days, it is necessary to be aware of the differences between materialism in the times of the New Testament and materialism today. In antiquity, materialism as philosophy was based on atheism and stressed the primæval matter; the ethical form of materialism concentrated on physical and psychical pleasures (Cyrenaicism and Epicureism). In contrast with the ancient materialism, the modern philosophical materialism puts stress on the laws of nature that have been discovered in modern times and on future of human society that will be brought about by progress. Modern materialism has replaced the hope of God’s promises by the necessity of the laws of nature, and the so-called inevitable progress of humanity has become psychological source of the sense of stability and hope. This is how modern materialism acquires the elementary features of lawfulness (the laws of nature substituting the laws of God) and also elementary aspects of teleology (the inevitable progress substituting the eschatological future that comes with the Kingdom of God). These opinions or doctrines were unknown to the materialists of ancient times.8 The response of the New Testament Church to material needs was clear, not only in what she taught, but also in what she did. In response to the materialism of the rich and wealthy, at first the Church limited herself to warnings and appeals that they should use their property in accordance with Christian love. Only later (mainly under the influence of the Greek Platonic dualism) communities were slowly created, that considered asceticism and poverty as the means to reach Christian perfection. The New Testament Church based her views of wealth and riches on the theology of the Old Testament, as she did in the case of the poor. The rich landowners in the agrarian society of the Old Testament were seen as only tenants of God (Leviticus 25,23). This meant that the real owner of the land was God. As the Old Testament society was agrarian, the land was the main source of wealth. And since it belonged to God, the ultimate source of wealth was God. This 8 The adage of the ethical materialism in biblical times is quoted in 1Corinthians 15,32 (the words of
Isaiah 22,13): “Let us eat and drink (…) for tomorrow we die!” Modern materialism, instead, believes in the wonderful attributes of matter and the teleological heading of evolution.
7 Schlossberg Herbert, Idols for Destruction. Nashville, 1983. 88.
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Eternal Values: Hunting for Vocation
principle had its specific expression in the jubilee year, when the land had to be restored to the family that had originally sold it. Although in relation to God no one was the owner of the land, the Old Testament nevertheless protected private property not only against theft (see the Eighth Commandment), but also against coveting (see the Tenth Commandment). Wealth was a sign of God’s blessing (Deuteronomy 8,18). For example, it says that Israel “will lend to many nations, but will borrow from none” (Deuteronomy 15,6). Against the background of such positive evaluation of wealth as the blessing of God, in the Old Testament there are numerous warnings about the vanity and deceitfulness of riches. “Better the little that the righteous have than the wealth of many wicked” (Psalms 37,16). Trusting in wealth leads to a fall: “Whoever trusts in his riches will fall” (Proverbs 11,28). It also leads to insatiable covetousness: “Whoever loves money never has money enough; whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with his income” (Ecclesiastes 5,10). In the New Testament, probably the sharpest warning is that wealth can claim a person’s love: “No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other; or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money” (Matthew 6,24). A rich person finds consolation in her or his wealth, and so she or he does not look for the joy that comes from God (Luke 6,24). The parable that Jesus Christ told about the difficulty for the rich to enter the Kingdom is also famous: it is compared to the probability of a camel getting through the eye of a needle. The same meaning is conveyed by the story of the rich farmer who planned to rebuild his granaries, or by the story of Dives and Lazarus. Gilbert Keith Chesterton wrote the following: “A man, who is dependent upon the luxuries of this life, is a corrupt man, spiritually corrupt, politically corrupt, financially corrupt. There is one thing that Jesus Christ and all the Christian saints have said with a sort of savage monotony. They have said simply that to be rich is to be in peculiar danger of moral wreck.”9 From what was said above, it should be clear that, despite the great danger, wealth does not necessarily mean that the rich person has a materialistic outlook on life. The New Testament sees the root of the problem mainly in covetousness (Romans 7,7–8), but also in
the love of money (1Timothy 6,10), in pride and trust in wealth, in the ruthless amassing of property, and in the oppression of the poor. This is the heart of the materialistic outlook and lifestyle. In the end, this leads to apostasy (1Timothy 6,10), one of the greatest tragedies in human life. Although the New Testament does speak of voluntary poverty as an expression of following after Jesus Christ, this clearly is not its main response to the problem of materialism. The problem of materialism is not primarily seen in the quantity of the things owned, but in the attitude of the human heart to wealth. The solution to this problem has to be an inward change. The command of Jesus Christ presupposes the inward liberty: “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat; or about your body, what you will wear, but have confidence that the Heavenly Father takes care of His children” (Luke 12,22–30). And the Apostle Paul challenges Christians to be carefree: “Those who buy something, as if it were not theirs to keep; those who use the things of the world, as if not engrossed in them. For this world in its present form is passing away” (1Corinthians 7,30–31). Rudolf Bultmann comments on this passage as giving the “dialectics of participation and inner separation”.10 Such an attitude is totally dependent on the reality of the eschatological expectation of the Kingdom of God. Also it is expressed vividly and colourfully in Hebrews 10,34: “You joyfully accepted the confiscation of your property, because you knew that you yourselves had better and lasting possessions.” As we can see, in the New Testament the inward liberation of the heart is the precondition for the just use of wealth. Jesus Christ describes such liberation from wealth (mammon) with a very strong verb: despise (Matthew 6,24). But this sort of contempt does not mean that the despised mammon (wealth) cannot possibly be used for the purposes of the Kingdom of God. Such perspective on wealth is very different from the Platonic dualism that flatly rejects matter as evil. In the Bible we can also see how Jesus Christ says in another place something quite different: “I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings” (Luke 16,9). But it must constanttly be stressed that the prerequisite for the correct use of wealth is the inner involvement of Christian love, as
9 Chesterton Gilbert Keith, Orthodoxy. London, 1957. 199–200.
10 Bultmann Rudolf, Primitive Christianity (trans. Fuller R. H.). New York, 1956. 207.
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described in Luke 11,41: “But give what is inside the dish to the poor, and everything will be clean for you.” Another example of Christian love determining the value of a gift is the widow of Mark 12,43. The apostle speaks about love and giving explicitly in 1Corinthians 13,3: “If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.” Ignatios, in the letter to the deacon in Antioch, also added the demand of orthodox doctrine: “Everyone that teaches anything beyond what is commanded, though he be [deemed] worthy of credit, though he be in the habit of fasting, though he live in continence, though he work miracles, though he have the gift of prophecy, let him be in thy sight as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, labouring for the destruction of the sheep. If anyone denies the cross, and is ashamed of the passion, let him be to thee as the adversary himself. (…) Though he gives all his goods to feed the poor, though he removes mountains, though he gives his body to be burned, let him be regarded by thee as abominable.”11 Here we have an example how the New Testament teaching was applied shortly after the times of the apostles passed.
III. Applying the New Testament Perspective on Poverty and Wealth Today I have yet to answer the question how to use the above mentioned principles of the New Testament Church in our times. Today the responsibility for social care has been widely taken over by the state (especially in so-called “socialist” states), and as we have seen above, the materialism of present times has dimensions that were absolutely unknown to the people of biblical times. In post-biblical times the Church came under the influence of Platonic dualism, and material assistance to the poor too often took on the character of a meritorious ascetic act, which meant that the giver received a career promotion in the Church as her or his reward. For example, at the Seventh Ecumenical Council there was a note that said: “Those who, on account of their large expenditure on churches and the poor, have been raised, without simony, to the clerical estate as a reward and recognition of their beneficence; and being proud of this, now depreciate other clergymen, who were unable or unwilling to make such foundations and the like.”12 11 Ignatius, The Epistle of Ignatius to Hero, a Deacon of Antioch. In Roberts Alexander – Donaldson
James (eds.), Ante-Nicene Fathers I. Peabody, 1994. 113.
Eternal Values: Hunting for Vocation
Much, much later, Marxism did not “preach” ascetic abnegation, but on the contrary, a certain kind of eschatological expropriation of the rich. That is the reason why the Church today is not so much under pressure to answer the problem of the Platonic elevation of giving (ascetic abnegation), but she has (especially in former Communist countries) to address the Marxist view of property and of people who are on the receiving side of social aid (theoretically regarded as “the poor”). The way these beneficiaries of Marxist expropriation view themselves is very different from the self-image of the humble and pious poor in the Old Testament. This does not mean that social aid should simply be denied to those who are proud and haughty, but it does mean that it is necessary to speak about Christian love and mercy while administering social aid. Acts of love must be accompanied by the words of the Christian message. The historical experience of the Christian Church shows that the response of the Church to material needs should not be based on the principle of abnegation (Platonism) or on the principle of expropriation (Marxism). The aim of Christian aid is that both the giver and the recipient should give thanks to God, who is the real Giver of everything. This is achieved only when social aid is interpreted by the Word of God. Today, the demands for social aid are incomparably bigger and gratitude seems to be incomparably smaller than in the biblical times. The Church responding to the material needs of the present must speak both in her actions and in the words that interpret her actions. There should not be any dichotomy between social action and preaching of the Gospel. For only truth can fully liberate both the poor and the rich, and give the correct understanding to the giver and the recipient of the gift. The giver according to the Bible is not in the place of God (to be idolized, as the Marxist state is), the recipient is not entitled to receive help as a matter of course (as the proletariat) and the gift or aid is not the ultimate solution to the human predicament (as materialism would interpret it). The Church has to always remember the principle encapsulated in the words of Jesus Christ: “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” (John 8:32) Also, talking about poverty, wealth and truth: we should never forget the division of the world today – into the rich North and the poor South. That means that we, Christians living in the North, have
12 The Canons of the Holy and Ecumenical Seventh Council. Canon V. (Carl Joseph von Hefele’s note.) In
Schaff P. – Wace H., Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers. Second Series, Vol. 14. 559.
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to see our neighbours not only in the people of our own nation but also in those beyond our state’s borders. The task of national and international church organisations is to remind Christians in the rich North about real poverty and to change what Ronald Sider describes in his book, Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger: “Present economic relationships in the worldwide body of Jesus Christ are unbiblical, sinful, a hindrance to evangelism and a desecration of the body and blood of Jesus Christ.”13 But the more immediate problem for us here is the myth that materialism brings happiness and fulfillment. Such an idea is glittering mirage that the consumer society of the North is pursuing but is not able to grasp. One analyst, Russell Kirk, says: “The real conflict in our age is between opposing types of imagination: or, to speak more accurately, among a variety of types of imagination. (…) So the great contest in these declining years of the twentieth century is not for human economic interests, or for human political preferences, or even for human minds: not at bottom. The true battle is being fought in the Debatable Land of the human imagination. Imagination does rule the world.”14 The imagination of contemporary people is, in its essence, hedonism transformed into the transcendence of an unassailable faith. Materialism of this kind unashamedly makes parallels between the experience of buying goods or an experience of sexual intimacy and experiences of religious faith. Hans Schulze describes this process as follows: “In the hedonisticaesthetic conception of the world, the world offers itself as a cosmetic object. Inability to change one’s thinking (or the excessive effort that this would require) on the one hand corresponds with the possibility to step up and refine the commercialisation of needs and to create new needs. So life here is pretty good, despite the fact that the unsolved problems remain unsolved. The obvious symbols of the problem are: detergents and their demonstrable efficiency; home appliances, like dishwashers, washing machines and TV sets; nicer living, like furniture, a family house and a second flat; holiday, caravan and aeroplane trips; fashion; the entertainment industry, like shows, illustrated magazines and public gossip; flirting and sex without any risk. For a long time now it has not been the reification (Versachligung) of the world, nor demythologisation that it is about. 13 Sider Ronald, Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger. London, 1982. 99. 14 Kirk Russell, The Wise Men Know What Wicked Things Are Written on the Sky. In Colson Chuck (ed.),
Against the Night. Ann Arbor, 1989. 171.
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Much more it is about new ideology, about new pseudo-reality, about the new unreality of the world of illusions, about ‘technology and science as ideology’.”15 The experience of ownership is short term and can not substitute for the depth of religious or interpersonal relationships. Materialism ends in insatiability. Aldous Huxley called the commercial catalogues of modern society “The Newest Testament” to emphasise their place in people’s minds. A rich materialist of biblical times could have been surrounded by expensive things and maybe by slaves. But his modern parallel can, thanks to mass production, be constantly running after newer and better things, and, with the help of technology, she or he can create a virtual reality that blunts her or his ability to perceive the “real reality”. Modern materialism often defends its position by appealing to economic principles that have the status and authority of the laws of nature, although they are too often just an expression of human selfishness and greed. “If language is not competent for this purpose – of the criticism of materialism – then what else could allow us to accomplish this task, without which human beings do not have much significance? Today, of course, this task seems negligible, compared to the importance of making refrigerators or refining oil. Anyone who tries to interfere with such efforts by means of words is considered to be nothing but a conjurer.”16 The Word of God was and still is a powerful tool of the Church of Jesus Christ. The message of the New Testament Church is that the Church of today must rely on the Word of God and its power to liberate human mind from the power of its idols – the idols of the wealthy as well as the idols of the poor.
15 Schulze Hans, Theologische Sozialethik. Guttersloher, 1979. 283. 16 Ellul Jacques, The Humiliation of the Word. Grand Rapids, 1985. 34.
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Nerija Putinaite˙
Paradox of Christianity in Contemporary Democracy: Presence and Vocation The birth of Christianity is marked with a very specific attitude to morality of society and to the law of the state. From the very beginning, Christianity has had to position itself to the non-Christian state, society and way of life. Today the Christian community faces a similar situation. Contemporary democracy seeks to develop to a universally valid non-religious state order and is not openly hostile to Christianity. It is nevertheless true that the Christian position is often not welcome in public discussions about moral and legal matters of a particular democratic society and its future. Democracy has an inclination to place Christian life outside the public sphere: it is pushed into the private realm or can safely take the honourable role of a kind of cultural heritage that is interesting for tourists, cultural scientists and historians. Today democracy tends to forget its Christian roots. Being in conflict with modern democracy and its latest accentuation on human rights and tolerance, Christianity in a paradoxical manner is a fundamental factor in democracy, which stabilises and preserves it from moral degeneration. For this paradoxical reason, Christians have to take responsibility for the future of democracy. In this article I shall touch upon four subjects or questions: the relation between Christianity and state; Christianity and the morality of society; the trends of modern morality in democratic society and its compatibility (or incompatibility) with the Christian faith; and how it is (or is it) possible to be a Christian and a democrat.
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I. Christianity and the Democratic State One of the bases for discord between Christianity and contemporary democracy is the different attitude towards the state and the law of the state. From the beginning Christianity took a very clear position towards the law of the Roman Empire, that is, the law of the state. This attitude was not confrontational, but nevertheless it was revolutionary. Christians had to obey Roman law as a necessity. Jesus Christ clearly expressed his attitude towards the state when he was asked about the payment of taxes: ““Teacher,” they said, “we know you are a person of integrity and you teach the way of God in accordance with the truth. You are not swayed by people, because you pay no attention to who they are. Tell us then, what is your opinion? Is it right to pay taxes to Caesar or not?” But Jesus, knowing their evil intent, said, “You hypocrites, why are you trying to trap me? Show me the coin used for paying the tax.” They brought him a denarius, and he asked them, “Whose portrait is this? And whose inscription?” “Caesar’s,” they replied. Then he said to them, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s, and to God what is God’s.” When they heard this, they were amazed. So they left him and went away.”1 The Roman state was far from a regime that corresponded with Christian values. Corruption and cruelty was not an uncommon practice in it. It had to be unacceptable to anybody who preached love for the neighbour and the Reign of God. For a Christian, the real state is an aspect of the real word that has to be accepted with patience. Over the course of time, Christian theologians developed the idea of citizenship in the Reign of God that was superior to the citizenship of the “earthly state”. This draws a clear line between two orders and two kingdoms, that of human law and that of the “law of love”. The idea of contemporary democracy erased the line and took the assumption that an ideal state order is attainable on Earth. The democratic state bases its actions and aims on the idea of progress. The mover of progress is the image of the perfect condition of the state that can be reached by the will and choices of free citizens. 1 Mt 22,16–22.
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Nerija P utinaite ˙ : Paradox of Christianity in Democracy
Introduction
The ideals of the democratic state evolved from the Christian idea of the Reign of God. In the course of its evolution, though, it lost the transcendent level. Immanuel Kant developed the idea of the state in progress. The aim of “perpetual peace” was closely connected with the implementation of universally valid rational morality in the life of society and the state. The moral person (and the moral politician above all) is the factor that makes a moral-civic society possible. Thus true politics can never take a step without paying homage to morality. Though politics by itself is a difficult art, its union with morality is no art at all, for this union cuts the knot which politics could not untie when they were in conflict. Human rights must be held sacred, however much sacrifice it may cost the ruling power. One cannot compromise here and seek the middle way of a pragmatic conditional law between the morally right and the expedient. All politics must bend its knee before the right. But by this it can hope slowly to reach the stage where it will shine with an immortal glory.2 For Immanuel Kant, Christianity as one of the world religions is only an intermediary in the process of the progress of state and society. Christianity is not universally apprehensible to every human being, because it is not “purified” from irrational beliefs and dogmas. Immanuel Kant tried to make some improvements to Christianity and gave his own interpretation of matters of faith. He translated Jesus Christ as an exemplary moral figure. The “divinity” of Jesus Christ meant for him the perfectly realized moral duty. Jesus Christ therefore is an exemplar figure, whose life should be followed by every human being. There is no doubt that the two versions of the perfect state – the secular-democratic and the Christian – sooner or later come into conflict. The laws of the democratic state are or have to be constantly improved in accordance with the common will. Democratic citizens have to have great expectations toward the possible improvement of the state and its mechanisms. It is one of the duties of democratic morality to have such expectations and to be a democratic idealist, or an active creator of civil society. The Christian has much more sober attitudes toward the law of the state and its mechanisms. The Christian may have irrational ideas, but she or he is not a democratic idealist. She or he believes 2 Kant Immanuel, Perpetual Peace: A Philosophical Essay (tr.: Smith Mary Campbell). Appendix I.
Chicago, 1955.
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that the human being is the image (or reflection) of God, who is led by God in her or his misfortunes. She or he firmly believes in the possibility of spiritual improvement of human life, and of creating human community based on love and forgiveness. The Christian is not very optimistic about any state. That is why she or he will accept the failure of good state initiatives much more easily than the democratic idealist. The latter believes in constant progress and improvement, and she or he is not ready to accept the failures of good initiatives. The democrat has a great risk of losing faith in humankind and even in her or his ideals. From the viewpoint of the requirements of democracy, the Christian is too distant from the problems and the future of the state. Today idealists of the democratic state may address to Christians the same question that was put to Jesus Christ by his provocateurs. Christians may be accused of not being devoted enough to the state. Since democratic order is a product of common will, Christians and Christian communities could be perceived as alienated from it. Mistrust toward Christians in the democratic state can take many different forms. First, Christianity may be accepted as a nice decorum for weddings and funerals. It is felt to be somehow important for personal life and the life of the society, but this importance is not reflected and takes grotesque or even dramatic forms. The interior of the church may not satisfy one’s demands as too modest, and the priest may not be very famous for her or his wedding ceremony. There are cases when people feel resentment, when priests refuse to serve at the funeral of a relative whom they cannot avouch for being a Christian. In a society of consumption there is a tendency to believe that the Christian Church is a kind of service sector that should be available to everyone who pays. In Lithuania this was very obvious during the recent discussions on the national conception of family politics. The explicit position of the representatives of Christian churches in Lithuania and even of individual Christians was estimated by some members of Parliament as an anti-democratic wish to impose Christian values upon society. Even the right of Christians to participate in public discussion on the topic was strongly opposed. This reaction, however, shows that the Christian position is very important for the functioning of a democratic state. It teaches the lessons of democracy and is the litmus test for the state of democracy in the state.
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I. Eternal Values: Hunting for Vocation
II. Christianity and Moral Law Another ground for discord between Christianity and contemporary democracy is the attitude towards morality and the ultimate ends of human life. From the beginning Christianity dissociated itself from the law of Judaism, that is, from the practical moral rules of the Jewish community. Love was declared as the supreme principle of Christian morality, which eliminated the absolute moral significance of the rituals of daily life. Thereby Christianity marked a revolutionary change in attitude towards practical morality. The new morality was based on faith and love, instead of being led by law and common rules. The first Christian proponents envisaged specific dangers that could cause the Christian refusal of the laws of morality and implementation of the principle of freedom. The opposition and harmonization of spirit and flesh, soul and matter, is the fundamental problem of Christian morality. In the winter of 56–57, the Apostle Paul wrote a letter to the Galatians, where among several topics he speaks about Christian freedom that surpasses the law and dangers of the “work of the flesh” (Galatians 5,13–15): “For you were called for freedom, brothers. But do not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh; rather, serve one another through love. For the whole law is fulfilled in one statement, namely, “You shall love your neighbour as yourself.” But if you go on biting and devouring one another, beware that you are not consumed by one another. “I say, then: live by the Spirit and you will certainly not gratify the desire of the flesh. For the flesh has desires against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; these are opposed to each other, so that you may not do what you want. But if you are guided by the Spirit, you are not under the law.” Then he continues (Galatians 5,19–24): “Now the works of the flesh are obvious: immorality, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, hatreds, rivalry, jealousy, outbursts of fury, acts of selfishness, dissensions, factions, occasions of envy, drinking bouts, orgies, and the like. “I warn you, as I warned you before, that those who do such things will not inherit the Reign of God. In contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Against such there is no law.”
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With its birth Christianity brought another specific moral question of the equilibrium of the moral laws of community and the freedom of a person to make choices in her or his life by her or his own will. It seems that the most positive outcome of the situation is a fragile “golden” equilibrium between moral rules of society and individual freedom. In the course of time the conflict between common will and freedom varied, although persisted. In the XIXth century the philosopher Søren Aabye Kierkegaard (1813–1855) in his Fear and Trembling reflected on the meaning of faith. He comments on and interprets the biblical story of Abraham, who was ready to sacrifice his only son Isaac, because that was the will of God. Kierkegaard presents the situation of Abraham as absolutely unintelligible and incomprehensible for others: “On the other hand, whenever I attempt to think about Abraham, I am, as it were, overwhelmed. At every moment I am aware of the enormous paradox, which forms the content of Abraham’s life, at every moment I am repulsed, and my thought, notwithstanding its passionate attempts, cannot penetrate into it, cannot forge on the breadth of a hair. I strain every muscle in order to envisage the problem; and become a paralytic in the same moment.” The act of faith comes from heart and can be understood only by heart. It is a paradox for the intellect that is not able to comprehend and justify the requirements of faith: “He believed this on the strength of the absurd; for there was no question of human calculation any longer. And the absurdity consisted in God, Who yet made this demand of him, recalling His demand the very next moment. “Abraham ascended the mountain and whilst the knife already gleamed in his hand he believed that God would not demand Isaac of him. He was, to be sure, surprised at the outcome; but by a double movement he had returned at his first state of mind and therefore received Isaac back more gladly than the first time.”3 That is why Abraham was unable to explain his intended deed to his wife Sarah and to the others. The movement of faith and the life of faith were for Kierkegaard essentially incommunicable to others. For that reason Abraham was a “knight of infinite resignation”. Kierkegaard interprets Abraham’s story from the perspective of Christianity. And what is more, he looks at it from the perspective of
Eternal Values: Hunting for Vocation
the modern situation of Christianity. By “modern situation” we mean here the contemporary questions and problems that Christianity has to deal with. First of all the relation between the Christian, the Christian community and the modern society is problematic. The community that Kierkegaard has in focus is in no way a non-Christian community or a community without faith. It is a community that takes the will of God (and supposedly Christianity itself) as law, but not as an impulse to the movement of faith or the mandate to love. On the other hand, Kierkegaard identifies the act (or the movement) of faith as absurd. This attitude is also very modern. Kierkegaard puts himself in opposition to Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel’s (1770–1831) philosophy, which interprets the world of material and spiritual processes by the laws of reason and logic. He shows that reason has its limits and is unable to clarify the reality of faith. In the contemporary world, where intellectual transparency of human life and human choices are raised above all other things, it is still relevant to formulate the question in this way. Kierkegaard’s reflection on the situation of Abraham indicates two basic problems which face a Christian of the contemporary world. On the one hand, the relation between the Christian and a society that can be Christian is also very problematic. This problem is even sharper in secularized society, whose morality can confront the Christian outlook as dangerous or discriminatory. On the other hand, Christianity is not able to justify the legitimacy of its way of life by means that could be universally accepted, that is to say, by rational means. The contemporary democratic state forged a special democratic society and person. The latter is suspicious in regard to any kind of irrationality. It is not eager to accept any community-wide morality that surpasses the principle of tolerance and respect for human rights. The different understanding of the origin of morality and the relation between the person and society is the first source of possible conflict between Christianity and contemporary democracy.
3 Kierkegaard Søren Aabye, Fear and Trembling (tr.: Hollander L. M.). In http://www.ccel.org/k/
kierkegaard/selections/trembling.htm
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III. Trends of Democratic Morality The ideas that presently are understood as “democratic” emerged in the epoch of the Enlightenment. The most important of these is the idea of an autonomous individual. It is based on trust in the good of the rational and individualist part of the human being. The purpose of the individuum of the liberal democratic society is to emancipate from any influence of others the habits and traditions of society that are not identified as rational or pragmatically valid. The price for this personal emancipation is weakness in social ties. Democracy is a state order that claims to defend a specific kind of morality. It calls into question any kind of social morality and the right of society to put moral rules upon the autonomous individual. Liberal democracy takes morality as a matter of personal choice and engagement. The individual is free to choose her or his way of life and to take responsibility for the consequences. This kind of morality echoes the basic Christian idea that faith is a matter of the free choice of a person. At the same time it neglects another basic Christian idea, that is, the importance of community for the spiritual and social development of the human being and the necessity of a kind of sacrifice for the sake of others. Thus liberal democracy rejects morality as common law, but it hardly accepts any other basis for close solidarity. The lack of any commonly accepted limits for self-realization and self-determination is one of predictable consequences. Suicide, euthanasia and any practices of physical, psychical and spiritual self-destruction can be claimed as the right of the person to moral self-determination. This right by no means could be injured by any common views and practices of the society. Another consequence is even more dramatic for the integrity of the person. It is the categorical credit to the rationality of the members of democratic society. This could lead to a situation where contemporary democracy morally allows and justifies the segregation of a person who is not appreciated as rational and is not able to take full responsibility for her or his choices. The development of the morality of democracy leads to the protection of actions that can be interpreted as the matter of “free choice” of the individual: abortion and euthanasia. Moreover, this morality provides a basis for excluding that part of society that does not satisfy the democratic standard. Contemporary ethical thinker Peter Albert David Singer (1946–)
Eternal Values: Hunting for Vocation
suggests it is impossible to defend the claim that there is a special value in the life of a human being. He merely admits that there is a special value in a life of a “person” as a human being that has a special moral value. “A self-conscious being is aware of itself as a distinct entity with a past and a future. (This, remember, is John Locke’s [1632–1704] criterion for being a person.) A being aware of itself in this way will be capable of having desires about its own future. “For example, a professor of philosophy may hope to write a book demonstrating the objective nature of ethics; a student may look forward to graduating; a child may want to go for a ride in an aeroplane. “To take the lives of any of these people, without their consent, is to thwart their desires for the future. Killing a snail or a day-old infant does not thwart any desires of this kind, because snails and newborn infants are incapable of having such desires.”4 Newborn infants do not meet this definition of person, nor do comatose, senile people, individuals struck by depression, and those unconscious or having no aspirations for the future, sick with dementia or other diseases that makes human beings unaware of themselves. Fortunately, Peter Albert David Singer’s practical ethics is not yet taken as a basis for common practice in democracy. It shows, however, the possible development of moral argumentation in democratic society. It is apparent that this morality is incompatible with Christian morality, which declares the absolute value of the life of a human being. There is no doubt that the presence of Christianity in the life of contemporary democracy hinders the ultimate development of this kind of morality. Christian community is in constant open or invisible conflict with democracy’s radical tendencies and therefore affects its moral balance.
IV. How is it Possible to be a Christian and a Democrat? The presence of Christianity in democracy is morally and legally paradoxical. On the one hand, democracy declares values that go beyond the Christian standpoint and even confront the Christian way of life. On the other hand, Christianity presents an existential basis for the life of a democratic citizen. 4 Singer Peter Albert David, Practical Ethics. Cambridge, 1979. 90.
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Nerija P utinaite ˙ : Paradox of Christianity in Democracy
Contemporary democracy is based on common will, but it does not give to a citizen any existential motive to be a social being and to act socially in situations that are not justified pragmatically as a means to improve or maintain society as a whole. There is no surprise that Immanuel Kant speaks about the possibility that even devils could establish a republic. It is enough in the state that the society of devils practices rational pragmatism. The angelic love for others is an excess good for the functioning of modern democracy. Immanuel Kant and other thinkers of the modern state, however, overlooked the fact that a citizen needs more deep motivations for his action than the need of creation or welfare of the state. Democracy steps well beyond human nature, because it is not willing to recognise the natural limits of human capacities. It pushes citizens to accept tasks that can cause them a personal crisis. A democratic citizen is stimulated to give prominence to things that are not in her or his power. That is, she or he has to accept the possibility and even the necessity of materialising the idea of moral state order. The power of individual to do that is limited, because the decisions about the commonwealth are taken by the common will. The idealist democrat, as already mentioned, should be constantly depressed confronting the limits of her or his individual power to influence and improve the functioning of a particular democratic state. Today in Lithuania people are extremely disappointed with the state institutions, especially with the parliament and the government. This leads to disappointment with the democratic state as such. Some social scientists even speak about reasons of numerous emigrations not only as material, but also as “psychological” ones. It is true that people have very great expectations towards the possibility to improve the state order, and they are not eager to accept the necessary imperfections and even cases of failure in the state. By contrast, Christianity gives existential support to live in an imperfect democracy. The Christian will never be an “ideal democrat”, who expects the inevitable realisation of the ultimate end of democracy. A Christian, however, can be a “democratic realist”, who will do her or his best for the goodness of the democratic state as one of the political and legal forms of society. The Christian position in regard to democracy can serve as a model for all citizens. The presence of the Christian community can keep democratic society from frustration and despair.
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Furthermore, Christians should take responsibility to prevent the possible legal and moral degradation of democracy. The possibility of developing a totalitarian regime out of the democratic order is very real and tempting for the democratic elite. The demand on the totalitarian order can arise from disappointment with the actions of the majority of fellow citizens and their ability to make rational decisions. One can be fascinated by an illusion that the absolute rule of a few could allow implementation of good ideas without long discussions and without any missteps. Totalitarianism is more unacceptable to the Christian position than democracy, because it subjugates citizens for the sake of the realisation of the idea of a perfect democratic state. It is alien to Christianity, which accentuates the freedom of the person from the absolutism of the laws of society. Still more, democracy is the balance of opinions and values of its citizens. Christians may not be satisfied that their moral position is not always adopted, but democracy by its definition cannot exclude any positions from its public sphere. The principle of tolerance for all religions and moral positions makes impossible a situation where Christians are persecuted and even killed for their faith and way of life. The democratic principles of tolerance and human rights may go to extremes, but Christians have to struggle for them for the sake of Christianity. Christians have to take responsibility for the well-being of ‘democratic’ democracy. Christians should not be so naïve to think that democracy is an everlasting order that does not need vindicators. Democracy is a fragile balance of powers that can at any time develop into an order of strong power. For Christians in the Eastern part of Europe this possibility is very real, not only in theory but also as a historic experience.
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Jamie Moran
God is a Gambler I. God’s Left Hand The Dæmonic is the ‘left’ heart side of God. Most people, whether Christians or not, indeed whether any religion or not, prefer to stay on God’s ‘right’ side, which is a blend of mind (cosmic order and insight) and soul (cosmic beauty and compassion), but without the dynamic of the heart, divine and human. It is the dynamic of the heart most people do not want to rely on. They do not want to be in the edgy and costly existential position where trusting this dynamic puts them. Religions are built around mind and soul, and the heart is banished. The heart is a dark secret. The dark secret is that the way of the heart is a gamble that God is taking with all that exists; and this gamble will not pay off if we human beings do not pick up the heart, which is a heavy weight we think we cannot lift and a deep pain we think we cannot bear. God is gambling we will step up, and carry the weight and endure the pain. The heart has a cost, for God and for us. God is gambling that, like God, we will pay the cost. I cannot explain these things. Our desire to have them explained is so we can invent yet another excuse for not stepping up. In our own heart we know the score – so we might as well stop lying to ourselves, stop lying to other people, stop lying to God. Blaspheme against God, spit on God, scream to God, but do not tell me you do not know where the left side of things is. Saying you cannot bear it does not help, because whatever you say, you are bearing it. You know it deep in the heart, as is so for every woman, man, child, who has ever lived or ever will live. We are bearing it even when we cannot bear it. From an early age I was cursed and blessed to never be able to forget the left side, and I learned that when you try to avert your
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gaze from what the heart always must face, the pain in the heart becomes unbearable. When you close your eyes to this escapist gaze, and again stand before what the heart always faces, the pain changes. It does not hurt any less. But the unbearable becomes a forge of grief and flame. I cannot explain this to those who have thrown their heart away, whether in the name of religion or in the name of worldliness. The heartbreak is in you whatever you do, wherever you go. Moses will not take it from you. Buddha will not take it from you. The profane prayers you utter out of your heartbreak anchor you in the heart, and do not allow you to pretend. These prayers are holy.
II. Buddhist Enlightenment There was no heart in Buddha’s Enlightenment. It took Buddhism one thousand years – through people like the founder of Zen, Dogen – to start to pick up the weight and embrace the pain. This is because what the heart must face is shocking. It is too great and it is too deep. We will settle for far less. But the Dæmonic God, who inflicts the weight and pain in the heart that we cannot escape, will not settle for less. God is relentless, and unrelenting. God is gambling we can go deep, and in being deepened, can become great. God is gambling because the heart is free to step up or stand down. It is not a foregone conclusion. It is not guaranteed. If humanity fails, God has failed. A friend said, ‘God believes in us’; yes, but that is the gamble.
III. Buddhist Flux Another friend is a Zen Buddhist, though born a Jew. It is the Jewish element in him that understands, and warms to the absolutely shocking things I say about what it means that God has a heart, and has risked entrusting humanity with a heart that can either respond to God’s heart or repudiate it. For all creation has been placed in the hands of the heart, not just divine but also human. Both must stand, act, and come through together – or nothing will get through. In that eventuality, it will all fall, endlessly, into the abyss. Zen has given my friend much. Being a part of something bigger, which is intelligent and philanthropic, rather than living as a separate ego, has been transforming. But the Dæmonic is a different kettle of fish, and my friend knows it. He knows in his bones what I mean when I say to him that God has risked the entire creation to the way of heart, and
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Introduction
that the outcome of this risk remains uncertain until the last breath, until the last sigh, until the last cry and last shout, of all creation, that finds its voice in humanity’s anguish and agony of heart. It will go to the wire. It is Federico García Lorca’s ‘battle on the rim’ – and as the options close, one after another like the doors in a room slamming shut until there are no more doors and it is just the room of no exit we confront, the real truth at stake is revealed. We finally end up naked, confronting what is in the heart, and confronting what it asks from each of us. There is a way to invert Buddha’s first noble truth. The real reason why everything is in flux, everything is changing, nothing is fixed, is because the journey and battle of heart that all humanity is making, like a huge caravan crossing a trackless waste, is not over yet. Its outcome is not known to any human being. It was not known to Moses. It was not known to Buddha. No mystical ecstasy, or visionary expansion of awareness, ever did, or ever will, ‘see’ the outcome, the end. Not even Jesus Christ was given to know this, as he clearly states. The outcome, the end, cannot be foreseen, because we have not arrived there yet, and to arrive there will be the journey and the battle of many generations to come. What will happen and how it will all turn out cannot be guaranteed in advance; no one knows this because it depends on the heart blood, heart sweat and heart tears, not yet shed, not yet given. The story goes on. The edge and the cost continue. It is not over until it is over, and it is not over yet. This means no one can know the outcome, and that means we are all suspended in the risk. Its suspense rises and falls, ebbs and flows, but is never to be overcome in some state of consciousness where we discover we are ontologically secured. If the heart succeeds, all things will be ontologically secured in the end; if the heart fails, all things will be ontologically lost in the end. When we take up the burden of heart, we take up this suspense about the story we are still living, about the edge we will venture out onto farther and farther, about the cost we will pay and pay. When we assume the heart, humanly, we enter God’s gamble of heart, and by entering this, we enter the risk. It is not secured. It is in risk. It will be in risk to the very end, and knowing God, it will finally seem lost before it can win through.
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IV. Human Becoming But this means, then, that Buddha’s first noble truth is true for an existential reason he missed entirely. Everything is in fundamental flux, everything is inherently changing, there is nothing eternal reflected from above and fixed here below, because God’s risk and our risking of it is a story not finished yet, a story still being travelled and fought for, a story still in the making over generations, a story still suspended between break-down and break-through, and a story whose deepest tears, sweat and blood, are still being shed, and whose greatest deeds of sacrifice are still being enacted. It does not just depend on what you will or will not do. It depends on what others will or will not do. It depends on all of us. This means – and with all due respect to the superb theology of ‘personhood’ created by the Greek Fathers of Eastern Christianity – we do not know yet what the human being ‘is’, because the human is still in fundamental and radical ‘becoming’. What a human being will become is open-ended. It could end up as something small and shrivelled. It could end up as something big and expansive. What the heart will do, finally, when it has got off its back where it has fallen down in the dirt, and gets to its feet, no one knows, and no one can know. These are the secrets hidden in God. God sees the heart. For us, the heart is dark while we are still evading it, and even when we return to it, it is black in depth; we cannot see, because we must live and act, a red fire of love glowering deeper down, and ready to come forth. What the human ‘is’, as of any ‘now’, cannot be defined, or set in stone by any description, because as my friend said – catching my meaning without further prompting – humanity is “a work in progress”. You and I, and everybody, are inherently unfinished. It is all unfinished. And the change, the flux, that is basic in everything and in everyone is because we are all moving toward what we will become, but we have not yet by any measure arrived. Buddha’s first noble truth, rendered existential rather than ontological, is saying it is all on the move, and has not arrived yet, because the gamble is still ‘ongoing’. The game is on. All things will continue in movement until the gamble God is taking with the ontological through the existential is resolved. Now you know why Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the greatest novelist of the human heart struggling with the divine heart in the history of the world, was a gambler. Now I know why so many of my Lakota
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friends love gambling; I comprehend now the hours I have spent in ‘Hand Games’ with Wilmer Mesteth, and many other Oglala people. There is a cosmic order, there is a cosmic beauty, there is a way to be part of it, and there is a way to be made insightful and compassionate by it. But this is, in itself, one-sided. It is right-sided. It evades the left side. The left side knows the heart is a gamble. All heart-rooted people, whether Russian or Indigenous, know the human heart is a gambler, and that this heart is God’s gamble. The left heart side is gambling that the heart can, through lifting the weight and bearing the pain, redeem the world, and by this, save the sacred origins of the ontological. The dark secret is, only the existential, where this sacredness can be lost, can save it. The existential is the hell where heaven has to be tested to prove itself. Something in our heart says no to the gamble. Something in the heart has faith in the gamble, and foolishly, vulnerably, bravely, generously, dives in. This is the heart’s no and yes; and that too is part of the existential suspense that never ceases in the way of heart. For we never know if we are up to it until we dive in, and once we have dived in, we never know if we will reach the far shore. But something in the heart already is up for it, even as the other part faints away. We recover, and we go anyway, also assuming our doubts and weaknesses and flaws and failures to hit the mark. We do not shed any of this. We carry and bear it, even as we really commit to and go into and undergo the real extremity of the risk. There is an innocence of heart that will have a go, even without knowing the price. This is the pathos of the heart, so touching, so moving, in young people. Later, the price bites, and we still go on. We get ragged and strained, and ugly, but there is an even greater nobility and glory in that. When the chips are really down, we bet our all. We really do not and cannot know what God is doing with the world. We do not know how it works, all we know is we have a place in it and we have a hand in it either working out or ending badly, in ruin and dereliction. This ruin and dereliction in which it really can, and might yet, end is already prefigured: it is the mean streets all around us, in the poverty, the brutishness, the aimlessness, the hollowness. William Blake’s apocalyptic poem London, where he sees on every face he meets “marks of weakness, marks of woe”, is all around us, showing us what failure of the heart will mean if it becomes the final word on the project that God ventured with us. Satan the Accuser is before God day and night, telling God we have already failed and are entirely worthless, but God does not relent
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towards this moral accusation of the Evil One any more than he will relent to our cowardly and lazy plea for an easier life. God reserves his judgement. He carries on. Because God does not relent to the devil’s judgementalism or to our desire for a quick fix and an easy path, it goes on. The relentlessness of God is Dæmonic, and we register this in the heart as a pressure on its action that does not, and will not, ease off. Our life is what we ‘do’ with our life; the gamble is in how we live, and how we act. This is not religion. It is life. It is the life and death of the heart. The heart is the only hero this world has. The heart is the one who loves to the absolute max, and that means the heart lives and dies by sacrifice. The heart is a warrior. Another friend, who is Greek and an Orthodox Christian, sent me one of those quasi-Jungian accounts of the warrior as an inner archetype, similar to the inner child, and the inner goddess, and all that sort of spin about the psyche’s images. Though the thumbnail sketch of the warrior’s activity and energy was all right as far as it went, a much deeper way of reading the warrior is needed. The warrior is not a preformed archetype in the soul – he is what the heart does or does not do in the situation where it is called to Act, but is on the edge, and must pay a cost. An archetype is an impersonal force. The heart action that makes a warrior is heavy carrying and very costly in deep suffering for the heart. It is personal, but with pain and with weight. No Jungians – or their new age derivatives – understand the warrior truly because they are just not into heart. They are into soul, but you cannot become a warrior through soul. You must risk the heart. And it is a risk – for God and for us. God is gambling with existence—and the only card up his sleeve is the heart.
V. Psychological and Spiritual Evil My Zen friend, who is Jewish, understands the contrast and balance of the Dæmonic (left side) and the Eros (right side) of God – or put another way, the existential and the ontological – through the two sides of life he names as beauty and horror. Horror is part of the Dæmonic, because God does things with existence, given the risk to which God subjects it, that to us are horrifying, horrible, horrendous. We mutter ‘that is the way it is’, or even, ‘it has to be like that’, yet the bitterness in our resignation is obvious; and the pious mouth their pretend acceptance in an all-too-easy ‘Thy will be done.’ But we
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all find the gamble not to our taste, and no one would choose it, or arrange it like that. As Søren Kierkegaard rightly claimed, the way the gamble works, works out, works through, is absurd. It does not add up. It does not make sense. A young student of mine, originally of a fundamentalist orientation, but drawn beyond this by wrestling with existentialism, once said of existence’s wound that it is like a text where key lines have been removed, where key words have been rubbed out. Horror is a thing of gaps where you get stuck, a thing of rims from which you fall, a thing of crossroads where you are forced to choose though not knowing what will happen as a consequence, but paying for it either way. My friend is honest: he prefers life’s beauty to life’s horror. It was meaningful to him to discover this beauty as a cosmic and objective pattern that is visible and invisible, that includes matter but reaches into spirit. The ego thinks it is separate from this marvellous whole, and pays for this sense of separateness with worry about itself. To discover that there is something bigger than our distinct ego and its concerns for itself, and that each of us is “a part of it”, as Indigenous peoples put it, is liberating. Such is Buddha’s enlightenment, which is liberation from a false sense of apartness, and a rejoining of the pattern that nourishes and sustains each in the circle of living made by all. Eros declares that goodness inheres life. The Buddhist approach to evil reflects the fact that its focus is mainly confined to the realm of Eros, but does not enter upon the realm of the Dæmonic. Buddhist evil is all about the limitation we put upon ourselves in trying to be a separate ego, with a discursive mind and self-preserving impulses. This cuts us off from the real source of what is inherently good. Buddhism is optimistic, because it is within humanity’s effort to take these self-created limitations off the self. When this happens, we still must live in a world of limits and deal with them, but we are free of what we ourselves generate out of our own misperception and misdirected desires, and so we can be happy. Yes, we can find happiness living in connection with Eros. The Eros of God grants direct perception and intensified philanthropy. But I find this kind of optimism bland. The path of Eros remains, from the Dæmonic perspective, incomplete. At worst it is fool’s paradise. At best, it is a fleeting taste of what once was, in the beginning, and might be again, in the end, but which in the middle is not secured, and is not securable, unless the heart intervenes. The middle of the story is where heart steps up and takes it on, or refuses it and falls down.
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Consequently, evil has a different face in the Dæmonic, because the Evil One named in Hebrew as the Adversary, and given the title of the Accuser, wants God’s venturing of heart with humanity to fail. This guy is playing for keeps. Evil in Buddhism can be reduced to the psychological, virtually identified with our human delusive manœuvres and rigmarole, but the evil that confronts the Dæmonic is a real Other, a spirit, not a piece of human psychology projected out in a symbolic form. This Satanic spirit wants the risk God is taking with humanity, in existence, to come to nothing, and thus Satan is really out to get us, and Satan is not messing around. Satan is the killer of the heart. Satan is behind everything that kicks the wind out of our sails, that kicks the stuffing out of us, so that we either distort or give up on the heart. Satan starts his attack when we are young. Satan is the killer of the child, and what Satan engineers to happen to children causes them to give up on the heart for the rest of their time on this Earth. Satan will break your spirit, intimidate your passion, and extinguish the flame in your heart. Satan will lead you out of the heart’s wilderness prematurely, and then become the judge and jury, condemning your laxity, your transgression, your sin. The whole false notion of sin, with its belittling of the human and its aim of murdering the spark in the human, is Satanic in origin. ‘Mankind the miserable sinner’ is Satan’s view on the human heart. I met this spirit in my early twenties in a great vision that has marked, scarred, driven, my whole life. I had dragged a figure on a raised dais, surrounded by twelve disciples seated at a long table, off his perch, and forced him to the ground. He was Satan, being worshipped as Christ, and in my heart I had known this and obeyed some wave of divine wrath that directed me to drag this phoney impostor from off the high perch, and expose him. As I held Satan on the floor, his face changed and revealed who he was. His red eyes burnt into me with their fury, a ravening fury, a raging fury, a fury against us all that is never satisfied, however much it gorges on the tears and blood of our human failures. His look said it all. He said to me in silent words, ‘you naïve little shit, you have no idea what you have taken on. I am going to fuck with your life in a way you cannot even imagine.’ Satan spoke like a street thug, trying to impose his will by force, and the profanity of the words was an expression of utter contempt for me or anyone else who stood up to the Satanic Accuser.
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The vision ended, though those red eyes of pure hatred remain with me. But I am still here. I have had some very bad times, when I backed down and backed away, and even lied to myself about doing so, before I pulled myself back into the fray. But I can honestly say from my heart, I do not fear the contest with this Satanic bully. I relish it. But I have learned that Satan is like a street thug in another sense: he will not take you head on, but fights dirty. It is this devil that Christ fully faced and fully overcame on the Cross. No one understands this, but it is what has sustained me in my heart way. Christ, the wolf spirit, and my Lakota allies, and a few other sisters and brothers, have helped me stand up. As a warrior, it is my love to help others, any others, who feel tempted to give in and give up when the intimidation against them is at its most fierce. I experienced in that vision of my innocent youth the Dæmonic Wrath that will not let Satan win by cheating. If he wants the human heart, then he is going to have to come on the killing ground and take it. The killing ground is the place in the world where the two roads, Eros and the Dæmonic, intersect and cross. This place is horrendous, but it is also holy. This is where it will be decided, finally. This place is not on the mountain with Moses. This place is not in the meditation hall with Buddha. This place is terrible, and yet it is also wonderful for those of us prepared to see the story to the end, and go all the way. For here is where the devil of pure hate is going to be flushed out of hiding, and is going to have to really take it on. God’s gaze is upon this arena, and remains relentlessly fixed on this “contest of love”, as Christos Yannaras once called it. This is where the human heart will finally be tested and proved. This place is where the devil is going to be brought down. There is no guarantee. But if it is going to happen, it happens here.
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VI. Love beyond Love My Serbian friend, profoundly given to Eros, though with a relation to the Dæmonic through being an accomplished martial artist in Okinawa karate, understands love primarily, and almost exclusively, through the right side of God’s Eros. This love gives light. This love gives beauty. This love gives each human being, as every creature and thing, a place in a bigger whole, a whole so marvellous no one can encompass it, though all benefit from it. This light beautifies and enlivens and sanctifies what it illumines. It takes joy in what it loves, even as the Beloved knows a joy beyond all images and beyond all words in the Lover. Lover and Beloved unite in Eros. Everything is well. All manner of things are and will be well. But… But the Dæmonic throws that wild card in the dance of Eros. Why does it interrupt the love that Eros bestows? For all those for whom Eros is love, and that means many Christians, especially in the East but also in the West, as well as many Buddhists and many of no religion who nevertheless are connected to the Goodness of Life, like a fountain overflowing in a parched desert refreshing and renewing everyone, the Dæmonic seems strange, alien, threatening. So it is. When Black Elk spoke of the beauty and strangeness of the Earth, he was experiencing, he was beholding, the beauty of Eros and the strangeness of the Dæmonic. But what I said to my Serbian friend I will say here, to end. The Dæmonic is not simply what spoils love, as we would all like love to be: the ever-growing tree, the ever-overflowing fountain, the unending flowering. The Dæmonic is in fact, as I said to Alex, the love beyond love. This love, by risking more, gives more. In Eros, things are good for God and for the creation that breathes, and lives, in God. The Dæmonic calls us out of this Eternal Dance, and throws each of us back on our unique personal stand, or lack of stand. Why? Because this is the way of the love beyond love. This is the way of the love supreme. The Dæmonic is hard, even harsh, on us. But it is harder and harsher on God. I forgive God for the unutterable wound that God has inflicted upon me and upon every creature, thing and person in this world because I know God has picked up the heaviest weight and God has borne the deepest suffering. This is not at all evident to us
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until we go far deeper into the pain and despair and outrage deep in the heart; this is a descent most people do not make. But if you own what is in your heart, you will pass through the most abysmal loss of God and the most abysmal rejection of God to a place that an Eastern Orthodox Christian saint called the “new land of heart.” It was to this new land the Jews were travelling in leaving Egypt. They never arrived. This place remains the true promised land. In this land, we forgive God and are forgiven by God: the forgiveness is mutual. But it is more than that. There is much more to it than that. It ends the old tears and despair of our heartbreak, and reforges our heart. It is our heartbreak that is forged in fire.
VII. The Ultimate Love The love beyond love is the love that risks everything and then goes beyond all limit to retrieve, to carry, to pay for, what can be lost, what already is lost and what could be in the final end forever lost. Eros is natural. The Dæmonic is hard, strained, naked, ugly and extreme. But the Dæmonic loves deeper, and the Dæmonic makes us greater. I am one of those who stood up to the devil while still just a naïve little runt, way out of his depth, because already in childhood, in the midst of its desolation and destruction, my heart understood the love beyond love. The weight and the pain is a summons. Even as a child, even as just a wrecked little bastard with no idea what he was taking on, the love beyond love became a wound worthy of the journey and the battle. Do you understand what I am telling you? When you, in the deep heart, break down and then break through to the depth of what God’s heart is doing, your tears will change, your screaming agony will find peace, and in the fathomlessness of the abyss beneath your heart and in your heart will rise the flame that loves God without reserve. And when that day comes you will do more than forgive God, you will trust and have faith in the gamble, you will exult in it, you will laugh and cry about it, released from all your fear of it, and you will dance like a drunken person, and more than this, you will step up, and ready yourself to fight. Do you understand this? Naturally we fall in love with God’s Eros. But when we love the Dæmonic heart of God, which is going all
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the way, which is carrying the heaviest weight, which is bearing the deepest suffering, which is paying the most costly price, then our heart is moved, and we burn with love for the love beyond love, and in that burning, we gladly take it on and step up, thankful for the divine faith in us that dignifies us with our portion of carrying the weight, our portion of bearing the suffering, our portion of paying the price. The devil came to break me, then the devil tried to distract me, but something in my heart reveres the love beyond love, the strange love, the violent love, the irrational love, the love that gambles and by virtue of that gives more and does more. Already as a child, I loved that extremity of God. This love that most people do not want to face, do not want to carry and bear and pay for, do not stand before and stand up for, is love at its most absolute extreme. It is the love no one wants, it is the love no one recognises, that is the love supreme. Only this love beyond love is deep and great. This is the love that goes with us, and stands with us, and will never abandon those it has risked. For, in risking us, it has risked itself. If the human heart ends in hell, then the heart of God will remain forever in hell with us. Alex, my perceptive and beautiful friend, understood the love beyond love. I spoke a few words, only a few words, and we both lapsed into silence. Yes, he said. We have to venture the losing of love really to find how deep and great love is.
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Introduction
Peter Šajda
The Very Same Eye: A Baptismal Meditation
The mediæval Dominican theologian Meister Eckhart (1260–1328) wrote in one of his sermons the following words: “The eye with which I see God is the same eye with which God sees me.” The very same eye.
I. God’s Ubiquity When people think of God, they often imagine that “I am here” and “God is there”. “I am here on Earth” – “God is there in Heaven”. “I am here in my sin” – “God is there in God’s glory”. “I am here in my daily worries” – “God is there in God’s eternal happiness”. And from this way of thinking arises the strange idea of God’s absence. This idea prompts us sometimes to say: “God was not there for me when I needed God the most.” Or when evil things happen, people tend to ask: “Where was God?” All these statements and questions treat God as an object. An object like a tree or a house – something outside of me. And this object-god can be present or absent – we can see God or God can hide. But Meister Eckhart challenges us to a deeper understanding of God: “The eye with which I see God is the same eye with which God sees me.” There is no subject and object, no here and there. Eckhart asks us to take God’s ubiquity seriously. He calls for a permanent consciousness of God’s deep closeness – closeness which comes not only from outside, but always also from inside.
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Peter Š ajda : The Very Same Eye
II. Closer to Me than Myself Saint Augustine of Hippo (354–430) expressed this closeness with his famous sentence: “Deus interior intimo meo” – “God is closer to me than myself.” And a friend of mine once coined the sentence that God is closer to us than our own skin. This closeness is so strong that we can never truly shake it off – not even in denying God. It would, however, be sad to merely recognise God’s closeness as an objective fact. It is much more than a simple fact: it is an encouragement and a task. An encouragement, because no-one can ever take away from us this source of strength. And a task, because we need to live it out – for the sake of our own happiness. Although this closeness of God is a deeply personal matter, it is at this deep level that all humanity is connected. And with regard to Jesus Christ – the whole Church is connected. Our bond with humanity and with the Church lies deep down in our soul. There is where we are most connected to God.
III. How can I See God? When we participate in a baptism, we are called to renew our connection to God, the Church and our fellow humans. To renew our consciousness of God’s presence and closeness, as a community of those who have personal experience with it. And if we manage to continually deepen this experience, we will certainly be brave enough to face the baptised child’s questions when the child becomes older. Who knows, maybe one day the child will come to us and ask: “Tell me, how can I see God?”
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The Eternity Tale Life was an island for him. No one arrived, and he walked out towards no one. Along the seaside, fringed by the foam of the waves, he had met only his own footprints for many years. Any former life seemed to him the storytelling of old women. It was as if it were not him at all: a young man zealously climbing up the social ladder. How many bitter apples had he begun to bite before understanding that the world upon which the civilization of his ancestors stood was a tapestry woven of squandered illusions? Was there really emptiness behind that web? He was never really sure if he sailed here over the real sea. Perhaps he had not discovered this island in the ocean at all, but rather, in the bottom of his heart, into which he was descending, step by step, with his continuing meditations. More and more he had become convinced that out there, there was no real world at all. Only consciousness existed. Absolutely dimensionless, it created only inklings with pictures. So, like a little boy playing with bubbles, he would fashion the world into a large glittering orb. He would let it float into empty space and then, after all, would break it so that he might create it again. “Only my self really exists.” In this thought, the man found peace. Now, if this island actually existed, it would be quite small: a coral ringlet crowned with garlands of virgin forest whose shore a man could circle in a single day. On the eastern side of the island, atop a ridge rising out of the sea, the man had built a rustic temple of heavy stone. In this temple, which he had consecrated to the God-of-the-Self-Most-High, he sat, all day long, casting his eyes over the flickering flame of a candle. The roar of the sea beneath him and the tedious tunes that he played upon his reed carried his mind into a trance. In the midst of this trance all was clear to him. He felt as if the smallest cells of his
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II. Closer to Me than Myself Saint Augustine of Hippo (354–430) expressed this closeness with his famous sentence: “Deus interior intimo meo” – “God is closer to me than myself.” And a friend of mine once coined the sentence that God is closer to us than our own skin. This closeness is so strong that we can never truly shake it off – not even in denying God. It would, however, be sad to merely recognise God’s closeness as an objective fact. It is much more than a simple fact: it is an encouragement and a task. An encouragement, because no-one can ever take away from us this source of strength. And a task, because we need to live it out – for the sake of our own happiness. Although this closeness of God is a deeply personal matter, it is at this deep level that all humanity is connected. And with regard to Jesus Christ – the whole Church is connected. Our bond with humanity and with the Church lies deep down in our soul. There is where we are most connected to God.
III. How can I See God? When we participate in a baptism, we are called to renew our connection to God, the Church and our fellow humans. To renew our consciousness of God’s presence and closeness, as a community of those who have personal experience with it. And if we manage to continually deepen this experience, we will certainly be brave enough to face the baptised child’s questions when the child becomes older. Who knows, maybe one day the child will come to us and ask: “Tell me, how can I see God?”
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Daniel Pastircˇák
The Eternity Tale Life was an island for him. No one arrived, and he walked out towards no one. Along the seaside, fringed by the foam of the waves, he had met only his own footprints for many years. Any former life seemed to him the storytelling of old women. It was as if it were not him at all: a young man zealously climbing up the social ladder. How many bitter apples had he begun to bite before understanding that the world upon which the civilization of his ancestors stood was a tapestry woven of squandered illusions? Was there really emptiness behind that web? He was never really sure if he sailed here over the real sea. Perhaps he had not discovered this island in the ocean at all, but rather, in the bottom of his heart, into which he was descending, step by step, with his continuing meditations. More and more he had become convinced that out there, there was no real world at all. Only consciousness existed. Absolutely dimensionless, it created only inklings with pictures. So, like a little boy playing with bubbles, he would fashion the world into a large glittering orb. He would let it float into empty space and then, after all, would break it so that he might create it again. “Only my self really exists.” In this thought, the man found peace. Now, if this island actually existed, it would be quite small: a coral ringlet crowned with garlands of virgin forest whose shore a man could circle in a single day. On the eastern side of the island, atop a ridge rising out of the sea, the man had built a rustic temple of heavy stone. In this temple, which he had consecrated to the God-of-the-Self-Most-High, he sat, all day long, casting his eyes over the flickering flame of a candle. The roar of the sea beneath him and the tedious tunes that he played upon his reed carried his mind into a trance. In the midst of this trance all was clear to him. He felt as if the smallest cells of his
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body were joined with the furthest stars of the universe. They sprang forth in invisible, whirling waltzes spinning round and back again to his own mind. When he awoke, however, his old doubts would return. A wild scream from the island’s heart was enough for the invisible web to fall away, and he would find himself again isolated and strange in the midst of a hostile world. Even in those moments of deepest introspection he felt that somewhere in his bowels his being remained split. While his exalted half granted life to all things with a ruler’s gesture in an everlasting game, the other half of his being would writhe in the depths of silence, tortured by a formless solitude. He had no idea how quickly and unexpectedly the world where he had felt so safe for ages could disappear. It happened on the day she came to him for the first time. The last shaft of the dying sun had barely reached the candle flame when he suddenly felt her presence. He anxiously looked around but saw no one. Carefully, he moved down to the edge of the cliff with apprehension and surveyed the grey-blue depths below. He first took her to be a tendril of mist. A white ribbon, she crept up the rocky walls of the cliff. When she finally stopped before him, he was staggered by the unexpected reality of her eyes. He tightly squeezed his eyelids closed and tried to control her, to reconcile her to his universe. “You are just a new creation of my consciousness,” he said silently to his mind. Behind his closed eyelids, however, he saw those deep black eyes. She was of greater strength. He could not dam the powerful wave that flooded his internal being. Suddenly, he knew that the one who stood before him was truly different. She had come from the external world that he had not believed existed. He felt her call penetrate him. He was surprised and could not know that what was beginning to grow within him was love. “I am here because of you.” Her voice made him open his eyes. “I have come to ask you to leave your futile solitude.” He stretched out his arm to touch her pale face, but his fingers passed through her as through an immaterial vision. “Do not be frightened,” she laughed. “Everything that is real vanishes due to the touch of a mind that is proud. I shall arrive with the dusk and depart with the dawn. If it is your wish that I stay with you forever, you must find the answer to my question. What does
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love need most? I will give you the space of one year. I shall return every evening, that you might continue in your quest.” In the morning he watched her until she blended into the mist beneath the cliff. He spent the whole day in the stone temple. The roar of the sea did not elate him. It roiled within him, as did his own thought, from nowhere to nowhere. The king of the universe was being transformed into a pauper. The inky darkness when she return, nearly hid her fragile being, save for those enormous, burning eyes. They were mysterious gates to an unknown being. He felt the searching of mystery make his love all the more powerful. “Love needs a secret,” he said, but she kept silent. One evening, she came while he was immersed in his meditations. She sat next to him and blew out the candle on the altar. She eased the reed from his fingers and began to play. The un-bound joy of the song shattered his silence. At first, only a sharp pain gnawed at him, but it quickly grew into rage. He rose above her threateningly. “Who are you?” he said quietly, suppressing his subterranean roar. “For what have you come? To steal my peace? You called my solitude pride, but what about your pride? Does my humiliation bring you delight? And you cynically called this perverse art love!” Mute, she handed back the reed. Her defenceless eyes spoke more clearly than his anger. He threw the reed violently and flew at her. She retreated and was lost to the dark. He searched for her all night. Shortly before the break of day, he found her curled up among the sea grass on the shore. “Your candle and your reed led you away from our love,” she said when he leaned over her. “I wanted to wake you, but I did not know the savagery of your heart.” He felt her pain overwhelmed him. “Love needs understanding,” he whispered. She looked at him silently, without a single word, yet with hope, but she did not answer, be-cause this is not what love needs most. He waited all night, all day, but she did not come at all. Day dragged on by day, week by week; a month was over and a second nearly gone and every evening he would wait, with a small spark of hope, for her on the seashore. He would now exchange all his lonely eternity for a single moment with her. At last, she appeared. He beheld her leaning over the stone altar in the twilight. The waiting had amplified his desire.
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The downcast spirit within him took off on wings of unknown bliss. “I needed to lose her to find her ultimately,” he thought. “Love needs waiting.” But it was not “waiting,” and therefore she remained silent and left in the morning, as she had always done before. The season of drought was over. From the southern side of the island, the days of warm trade winds swept in and swept out with the large summer stars at low tide. Their reign was left to the twilight and to the rains roaring with the wind in the old forest’s bones. The sea rose and fell with the rhythmic breath of time, leaving behind a necklace of salt, seashells, scallops and seaweed on the nape of the shore. Then, the last evening began. She came and sat silently beside him. Her pale forehead reflected a cloud distance. Tufts of cloudy scarlet melted in the azure remnants of the sky, like drops of blood on water. Despondent, they remained silent. It seemed to him that he could see the spirit of the sea as it lifted its white head crowned with kelp, counting down the bars of a tune on a silver tambourine in a merciless swaggering tempo. The melody divided the night’s music from the chant of the daybreak. “You got not the answer.” She uttered aloud the thing they both knew. He felt he no longer was. His spirit was that of the rock on which they sat. Nothing was left here, only empty silence, wide as the world, this irrational absolute, in which he had been fed with vanity. He wanted to take her away, to hide her somewhere far off, to hide her from the devouring jaws of time. He knew, however, that she was immaterial, transparent, and unobtainable, as was the meaning of his existence, which he had been seeking helplessly for the whole year. He thought about the next morning. What would come after? He saw the empty shores, his own grotesque figure pursued by the sun, and on the entire island, only his own footprints going round and round in pointless circles. Would the pain remain? Pain. He enjoyed the bitterness of this word deep in his soul, and he recognized that his love was growing, seizing him and penetrating his whole being. “Love needs pain,” he cried in hope. But when he looked into her face, he knew that all was lost. Dawn broke from the heart of the island with the first singing. The secret remained unrevealed. Heartbroken, they descended to the shore. There, on the edge of the sea, she sat. In time with the gaining light, she faded into the sand until only a white silhouette remained
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as if drawn by salt. But it, too, was licked by the cool tongues of the waves. Something was changed in him. The world suddenly grew strange. A world in which the eagle hurls itself from the wild heights to sate his hunger on helpless creatures. A world that falls to rise, consuming life that life, itself, might be renewed. A world in which nothing lasts forever, save anguish. He hated the rocks because the biting water gnaws on them until finally they slip into the abyss. He hated the woods because rot treacherously attacks the roots of the tree and the thunder hammers it into the swamp where a thousand years hide it in the coal reserves of the Earth. He hated the falling stars and the flowing river that disappeared into the sea, and the sea itself, which ends on another, however distant, shore. Now, he knew it for certain. “Love needs eternity.” Irony Divine. He had looked for eternity and found love. He looked for love and found eternity. He recognised, for the first time, a different world stretching out invisibly above him; a separate, Godly existence that is not bound to anything which dances its cruel dance in the circles of birth and extinction. He beheld the Almighty with awakened consciousness. His revived heart experienced a mysterious touch. From the cave beneath the ridge he carried a boat, unused for ages. With a bare chest he sailed toward the sun. The dolmen of the stone temple consecrated to the God-of-the-Self-Most-High diminished in the distance. He turned his face to Heaven and looked up at the place which cannot be seen. And love remained with him always.
Sören Asmus
Dialogue as Unlimited Interpretation In comparing and evaluating religious traditions, is it more important to be committed to at least one of them or detached from all of them? The task of comparing and evaluating becomes most relevant in an encounter with other religious traditions facing a common reality, problem or concern and being dependent on the development of a common (re-) action. In this situation there is no alternative to a commitment to one’s own religious (cultural or philosophical) tradition, because it is on this basis every action and analysis will be contributed.
I. The Place of the Question In the wide area of possible dialogues between people, the question of oneself and others – basically beliefs and convictions – is the most important and at the same time the most difficult question to ask. If we move in the area of dialogue between people of different religious traditions – be it Christian or other – the question is that of hopes, aims and values, which open the horizon of the individual towards her or his own future and the future of humankind.1 At the same time, these traditions shape the way in which the individual experiences her or his life and expresses those experiences towards others.2 Difficulties arise if those expressions are not in line with one’s own expressions of such experiences – be it because of different experiences or because of different expressions. In order to relate those expressions to one’s own view and experiences of the world, there must be either a comparison or an 1
A good exploration of the involved questions: Newbigin Leslie, The Basis, Purpose and Manner of Interfaith Dialogue. Scottish Journal of Theology (SJTh) XXX/19. 253–270.
2 See the summary of views on doctrine: Lindbeck George A., The Nature of Doctrine: Religion and
Theology in a Postliberal Age. London, 1984. 73–90.
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as if drawn by salt. But it, too, was licked by the cool tongues of the waves. Something was changed in him. The world suddenly grew strange. A world in which the eagle hurls itself from the wild heights to sate his hunger on helpless creatures. A world that falls to rise, consuming life that life, itself, might be renewed. A world in which nothing lasts forever, save anguish. He hated the rocks because the biting water gnaws on them until finally they slip into the abyss. He hated the woods because rot treacherously attacks the roots of the tree and the thunder hammers it into the swamp where a thousand years hide it in the coal reserves of the Earth. He hated the falling stars and the flowing river that disappeared into the sea, and the sea itself, which ends on another, however distant, shore. Now, he knew it for certain. “Love needs eternity.” Irony Divine. He had looked for eternity and found love. He looked for love and found eternity. He recognised, for the first time, a different world stretching out invisibly above him; a separate, Godly existence that is not bound to anything which dances its cruel dance in the circles of birth and extinction. He beheld the Almighty with awakened consciousness. His revived heart experienced a mysterious touch. From the cave beneath the ridge he carried a boat, unused for ages. With a bare chest he sailed toward the sun. The dolmen of the stone temple consecrated to the God-of-the-Self-Most-High diminished in the distance. He turned his face to Heaven and looked up at the place which cannot be seen. And love remained with him always.
Sören Asmus
Dialogue as Unlimited Interpretation In comparing and evaluating religious traditions, is it more important to be committed to at least one of them or detached from all of them? The task of comparing and evaluating becomes most relevant in an encounter with other religious traditions facing a common reality, problem or concern and being dependent on the development of a common (re-) action. In this situation there is no alternative to a commitment to one’s own religious (cultural or philosophical) tradition, because it is on this basis every action and analysis will be contributed.
I. The Place of the Question In the wide area of possible dialogues between people, the question of oneself and others – basically beliefs and convictions – is the most important and at the same time the most difficult question to ask. If we move in the area of dialogue between people of different religious traditions – be it Christian or other – the question is that of hopes, aims and values, which open the horizon of the individual towards her or his own future and the future of humankind.1 At the same time, these traditions shape the way in which the individual experiences her or his life and expresses those experiences towards others.2 Difficulties arise if those expressions are not in line with one’s own expressions of such experiences – be it because of different experiences or because of different expressions. In order to relate those expressions to one’s own view and experiences of the world, there must be either a comparison or an 1
A good exploration of the involved questions: Newbigin Leslie, The Basis, Purpose and Manner of Interfaith Dialogue. Scottish Journal of Theology (SJTh) XXX/19. 253–270.
2 See the summary of views on doctrine: Lindbeck George A., The Nature of Doctrine: Religion and
Theology in a Postliberal Age. London, 1984. 73–90.
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Introduction
evaluation of those views, in order to build them into one’s own pattern of perceiving reality. In the realm of academic discourse, it is possible to try and approach religious traditions with an analytical set of values that are not derived from religious backgrounds or are explicitly critical towards all religious claims, like Ludwig Feuerbach or Karl Marx. Emil Durkheim and Max Weber, for example, tried to develop an independent way of looking at religion, regardless of their personal commitment to a religious tradition. But in the academic realm, as well as in any other area of life, people have developed their own worldviews in order to make sense of their existence and the world they see around them. People rooted in religious traditions will derive their worldview from their religious patterns of explaining the world and the meaning of life.
II. Postmodern Views and Religious Views Postmodernism explains worldviews as narratives constructed to make sense out of existence. All narratives are fundamentally the same; they are mainly the ways we choose to look at the world. Their greater or lesser acceptance lies not in the way they are more or less accurate in their representation of the world as it is, but in that they are more or less powerful. In such a view, any hope for an acceptable working foundation for a common view, or ultimately for even a temporary description, of the aim or reality of the world is gone. For religious traditions, this means they are no longer able to claim to provide a meta-narrative for explaining the world in general, as nothing is able to claim this.3 This would mean an end to any religious claim of a universal salvation or an aim in life addressed to all humanity and revealed in special historical circumstances (Jesus Christ, Buddha or Mohammed), and therefore it does not seem acceptable either. On the other hand, we must admit that plurality and contradictory experiences of the transcendent lead to very different narratives in our own traditions, as well as in other religious traditions. In such a situation, we would like to suggest regarding religious tradition as a cumulative reflection of the praxis of faith4 with an 3 We draw on Paul O’Shea’s summary here: O’Shea Paul, Theology, Pluralism and Postmodernity.
Milltown Studies 1995. 32–42. 4 This draws on John D’Arcy May’s description of identity: D’Arcy May John, Essence, Identity,
Liberation: Three Ways of Looking at Christianity. Religious Traditions 1984. 34–37.
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endless, but not arbitrary, possibility of interpretation, which is to be justified and shaped by the believing individual herself or himself in an ongoing expanding network of relationships. One’s own praxis and experience of faith is shaped by historically provided patterns of expressions and reflections (e.g. Christian theology) and in its ongoing existence through the relationships and the communication one has; it shapes the future with added expressions and reflections.5 All these expressions do not contain a single, definite meaning, but they can and must be interpreted in every situation to make them relevant. There is no limitation on the different numbers of such interpretations, although the direction of the interpretations is not arbitrary. Umberto Eco’s concept of semiotics and its application to texts is the following: “To say that a text is potentially unlimited does not mean that every act of interpretation is justified.” 6 We think that in a wide understanding of life as being a text in its own right, this applies to our worldviews and reality as well. So there is no such claim as a valid meta-narrative in general, but rather the common experience of people of different traditions that their narrative makes their life meaningful and enables them to act, and that they share at least a common direction of these narratives. The importance of the community for the identity of the individual is summarised by Brad J. Kallenberg, with reference to Alistair MacIntyre, as follows: “People can only answer ‘Who am I?’ with reference to the roles they perform or the characters they play in the narrative of the community. Everybody embodies a story and all stories overlap. One is always someone’s child, someone else’s cousin, and someone else’s neighbour: ‘For the story of my life is always embedded in the story of those communities from which I derive my identity.’” Brad J. Kallenberg uses this description in the view of conversion, but gives in his text some interesting analyses of postmodern theory and its application to Christian (Evangelical-Lutheran) theology. 7 If they refrain from the claim of universal validity for their narrative, each individual must prove to herself or himself the sufficiency of the narrative and the will to communicate this to others. 5 We have developed the theological concept behind this in the Essay on Cathrine M. LaCugnas “God for
Us” under the heading Ecumenical implications.
6 Eco Umberto, Die Grenzen der Interpretation. München, 1995. 22. 7 Kallenberg Brad J., Conversion Converted: A Postmodern Formulation of the Doctrine of Conversion. The
Evangelical Quarterly 1995/4. 349.
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In that sense it does not matter at all whether the narrative is ‘religious’ or ‘scientific’; what matters is that the narrative works for the person and that the person is able to communicate it properly. Within Christian theology, the development of advocacy hermeneutics in the recent years has shown that even within a religious tradition the number of possible interpretations of the dominant narrative and the different distinguishable narratives sometimes can no longer be brought into a single concept. This meets experiences from the side of interreligious dialogue, where even a common ‘religious experience of the Most High Being we adore’ seems not to exist at all; it becomes so abstract that it becomes meaningless at the same time. So, as Richard Rorty put it in Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, the sustaining of the conversation becomes a sufficient aim of philosophy or of any theology or of religious reflection in general.8
III. Religious Traditions in Today’s World We think that the emerging development in our world, the different areas of interrelationship in global economies, a threatened global environment and a newly emerging (mostly oppressive and violent) world order gives us many reasons to develop patterns of relation in order to face these common problems. On the local level as well, most (Western) European societies develop multi-cultural areas of life, in which people of different religious and cultural backgrounds meet and face common problems. In such situations a common praxis is needed to deal with the problems and with each other. This is exactly the area in which our different narratives and our different expressions of our religious traditions matter. Of course there is still a possibility for abstract reflection on religious traditions, and in that a detached approach to religious traditions remains possible. The outcome of such reflection and comparison or valuation may be useful and provide interesting insights. But the aim of such an approach easily becomes a matter of instrumental reason in order to control the observed traditions, which in our view is dubious in the long run. Thus there are areas suited to such an approach, but they are very limited compared with the huge task of relating one’s views and beliefs every day to other people and common problems. 8 O’Shea Paul, Theology, Pluralism and Postmodernity. Milltown Studies, 1995. 36.
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In such a common struggle, the different values and meanings of our religious traditions are compared through the important questions we commonly face and the answers we are able to provide. The normative measure of comparison, then, no longer lies in an external authority or an absolutised narrative. It lies in the ability of different people from different backgrounds or with different traditions to develop a common praxis within this world that is meaningful to them and allows them to reflect on this praxis together. Facing the threat of low intensity and middle intensity conflicts as a dominant pattern of international politics, religious traditions will have to provide answers and the communities facing such threats will need to find common answers in order to survive. Facing a global economy which is dominated by structures that make the majority of humans suffer, we have to see which answers our beliefs and their traditions provide, in order to change or sustain such patterns.9 In Western societies a certain degree of community and mutual dependence has developed within ‘multicultural’ societies. Life has to be organised: education, work, leisure and religious expressions. There is a need to develop forms that are neither offensive or exclusive for majorities and minorities, nor ignorant about common tasks. In this mutual exchange cultural and religious expressions become highly questioned, and the pressures of everyday life do not allow for abstract solutions. The different religious and cultural commitments have to be related to one another in order to develop an appropriate attitude towards the pluralist reality of social and global communities. In this process exchange will necessarily take place, and thereby one’s own perception will be changed or transformed.10
IV. Limitations: Mission and Syncretism Many more examples could be given, but I would rather focus on two aspects that necessarily question such an approach. The first is the question of truth claims and mission, or comparable concepts. The point at stake is whether a tradition and belief that makes our 9 See on the question of interreligious and ecumenical dialogue and their relation to the struggles of the
world: D’Arcy May John, Is Interfaith Dialogue Undermining Interchurch Dialogue? Ecumenics as the Framework for an Integral Ecumenism. In Rafferty Oliver SJ (ed.), Reconciliation: Essays in Honour of Michael Hurley. Dublin, 1993. 157–175.
10 See on this D’Arcy May John, Transforming Pluralism and Dialogue. Doctrine and Faith 1995/1.
II. Unlimited Dialogue: Passion Communicated
life meaningful and refers to a tradition of narratives which claim to explain the world and life and their aims can ultimately adopt such a view. Furthermore, there is the question of whether mission, or the spreading and promoting of such a view, can be justified. The only possible answer for this seems to be that such truth claims or worldviews have to prove their value for each person individually. Thus it is the personal congruence with the claims of the narrative that makes it persuasive or some kind of revelation to the individual, which is not disposable.11 So in that sense the problems that are faced do not change; they are only described differently. The second question is that of syncretism or even heresy (in Christian terms): the simple facts that common praxis and common reflection will lead to a new narrative. The fact that our life together will lead to transformed perceptions of our own traditions and faith, will lead to ever-changing narratives. That will put the threat of incoherence into our narrative and could lead to a split from the dominant patterns within our traditions. Syncretism can be described as the attempt to put together new combinations of narratives in order to be able to act sensibly in the future of a rapidly changing social situation. Hermann P. Siller’s description of syncretism in an anthropological view is the following: “Humans in a situation of extreme alienation and questioning of their own identity try to overcome this productively. When their old cultural and religious patterns fail or are dubious, they have to create a new meaning for their life out of a set of contradictory factors and parts of thought. This must be shaped in such a way that it allows them to act meaningfully again.”12 In that sense, the approach described above emphasises the necessity of mutual interrelatedness. Our own narrative is shaped by the community in which it was developed and from which we have inherited its expressions and grammars. If we meet people with more or less basically different narratives, and if in a common struggle we relate our narratives to each other and thereby change, we are still members of the community that shaped our narrative in the first place. 11 We are not sure how far this view is similar to Wilfred Cantwell Smyth’s view on truth claims in
religions. 12 Siller Hermann P., Ein Lernertrag. In Siller Hermann P., Suchbewegungen, Synkretismus, Kulturelle
Identität und kirchliches Bekenntins. Darmstadt, 1991. 193.
533–534.
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Therefore we can still relate our new narrative to theirs, and in the event of that communication, influence their narratives, reshape ours or even open more perspectives. The very threat of syncretism lies where people are forced from the outside to adopt another view instead of approaching it from their own point of origin. The final limit we see lies in the question of one’s own ability to withstand the permanent need to reshape and re-evaluate one’s own worldviews again and again while still preserving something like an identity. Therefore, the task of rootedness in one’s own tradition or narrative is of the greatest importance. This rootedness will then develop into a basic foundation for a transformative praxis of our own lives and the world around us. It is this praxis in which the comparison and valuation of religious traditions has its most important place and from which no detachment is possible.
John George Huber
A Lutheran – Roman Catholic Initiative in the United States Dialogues
Bilateral and multilateral conversations among Christian communions are commonplace. Scanning a recent issue of the Centro Pro Unione Semi-Annual Bulletin indicates that there are more than one hundred fifty ecumenical (interchurch and interconfessional) theological dialogues worldwide currently underway. These include representatives of the Anglican, Baptist, Congregational, Disciples of Christ, Evangelical-Lutheran, Methodist, Mennonite, Moravian, Eastern Orthodox, Old Catholic, Oriental Orthodox, Pentecostal, Calvinist-Reformed, Roman Catholic and Seventh Day Adventist churches.1 When the early beginning date of 1965 is noted for the series of nine Lutheran – Roman Catholic dialogues in the United States, the historic significance of this ecumenical initiative becomes apparent.2 For the Roman Catholic Church, this new bilateral venture would have been almost unthinkable just three or four years earlier, prior to the convening of the Second Vatican Council in 1962 by Pope John XXIII.3 Ecumenical restrictions had been set by the encyclical Mortalium Animos, issued by Pope Pius XI in 1928.4 This encyclical forbade members of the Roman Catholic Church to “take part in the assemblies of non-Catholics”, and also proposed a reunion with this church and the acceptance of papal authority as the prerequisite 1 A Bibliography of Interchurch and Interconfessional Theological Dialogues. Fifteenth Supplement. Centro
Pro Unione Semi-Annual Bulletin 2000/57. 10–12. 2 The Status of the Nicene Creed as Dogma of the Church. 1965. 3 Abbott, Important Dates of Vatican II. 741. 4 Bell G. K. (ed.), Documents on Christian Unity: A Selection from the First and Second Series (1920–
1930). London, 1955. 188–200.
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Therefore we can still relate our new narrative to theirs, and in the event of that communication, influence their narratives, reshape ours or even open more perspectives. The very threat of syncretism lies where people are forced from the outside to adopt another view instead of approaching it from their own point of origin. The final limit we see lies in the question of one’s own ability to withstand the permanent need to reshape and re-evaluate one’s own worldviews again and again while still preserving something like an identity. Therefore, the task of rootedness in one’s own tradition or narrative is of the greatest importance. This rootedness will then develop into a basic foundation for a transformative praxis of our own lives and the world around us. It is this praxis in which the comparison and valuation of religious traditions has its most important place and from which no detachment is possible.
John George Huber
A Lutheran – Roman Catholic Initiative in the United States Dialogues
Bilateral and multilateral conversations among Christian communions are commonplace. Scanning a recent issue of the Centro Pro Unione Semi-Annual Bulletin indicates that there are more than one hundred fifty ecumenical (interchurch and interconfessional) theological dialogues worldwide currently underway. These include representatives of the Anglican, Baptist, Congregational, Disciples of Christ, Evangelical-Lutheran, Methodist, Mennonite, Moravian, Eastern Orthodox, Old Catholic, Oriental Orthodox, Pentecostal, Calvinist-Reformed, Roman Catholic and Seventh Day Adventist churches.1 When the early beginning date of 1965 is noted for the series of nine Lutheran – Roman Catholic dialogues in the United States, the historic significance of this ecumenical initiative becomes apparent.2 For the Roman Catholic Church, this new bilateral venture would have been almost unthinkable just three or four years earlier, prior to the convening of the Second Vatican Council in 1962 by Pope John XXIII.3 Ecumenical restrictions had been set by the encyclical Mortalium Animos, issued by Pope Pius XI in 1928.4 This encyclical forbade members of the Roman Catholic Church to “take part in the assemblies of non-Catholics”, and also proposed a reunion with this church and the acceptance of papal authority as the prerequisite 1 A Bibliography of Interchurch and Interconfessional Theological Dialogues. Fifteenth Supplement. Centro
Pro Unione Semi-Annual Bulletin 2000/57. 10–12. 2 The Status of the Nicene Creed as Dogma of the Church. 1965. 3 Abbott, Important Dates of Vatican II. 741. 4 Bell G. K. (ed.), Documents on Christian Unity: A Selection from the First and Second Series (1920–
1930). London, 1955. 188–200.
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for Christian unity.5 As a consequence of this ruling, participation in ecumenical events was ordinarily excluded. Thus, there was no official Roman Catholic representative at the Evanston Assembly of the World Council of Churches in 1954.6 It was the new spirit of openness towards other Christian denominations, which characterised Pope John XXIII and Vatican II, especially the Decree on Ecumenism (Unitatis Redintegratio), that enabled the previously isolated church of Rome to invite Protestant theologians to attend the Council as delegate-observers.7 This turning point in relationships between Roman Catholics and Protestants set the stage for the bilateral dialogues, as well as other ecumenical initiatives. Also of interest is that the beginning date of the first U. S. Lutheran – Roman Catholic dialogues in 1965 actually preceded the conclusion of the Second Vatican Council by five months. These “churches of Rome and Augsburg”8 lost no time in translating their ecumenical paradigm-shift into a concrete commitment to cooperation and theological study. The special significance of these bilateral dialogues for the Lutheran participants is also worthy of comment. Unlike the Roman Catholic Church, which is structurally united as one ecclesial entity,9 the Lutheran scholars who served as dialogue partners represented three separate traditions: the Lutheran Church in America (LCA), with headquarters in New York City; the American Lutheran Church (ALC), with headquarters in Minneapolis, Minnesota; and the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod (LCMS), with headquarters in St Louis, Missouri. A further illustration of the internal divisions among Lutherans is that, while the LCA and the ALC were members of one of the sponsoring organisations for the dialogues – the U.S. National Committee of the Lutheran World Federation – the ecumenically separate Missouri Synod was not a member.10 Thus, the involvement of participants from all three major Lutheran bodies in the United States at that 5 Bell G. K. (ed.), Documents on Christian Unity: A Selection from the First and Second Series (1920–
1930). London, 1955. 198–199.
6 VanElderen Marlin, Introducing the World Council of Churches. Genève, 1992. 109. 7 Abbott, Important Dates of Vatican II. 741. 8 The Augsburg Confession of 1530 is the primary Evangelical-Lutheran statement of faith. 9 Abbott, Important Dates of Vatican II. 14–101. 10 The Status of the Nicene Creed. 33. As of Spring 2001, the LCMS has not joined the Lutheran World
Federation, the World Council of Churches, or the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the USA. Nevertheless, this denomination did participate in all nine U.S. Lutheran-Roman Catholic dialogues, 1965–1995, as indicated in the lists of representatives in dialogue rounds I through IX.
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time represents a kind of intra-confessional ecumenism that brought together not only Lutherans who had been separated from Roman Catholics, but also Lutherans who were institutionally separated from each other. The fact that these Lutherans, together with their Roman Catholic counterparts, could come to a measure of agreement on nine dialogue topics further demonstrates the theological significance of this ecumenical initiative. In order to provide an additional historical backdrop to this study of the U. S. Lutheran – Roman Catholic dialogues, here are the nine subjects covered in this series of conversations, which took place from 1965 through 1995. These are the titles and dates of the official reports: The Status of the Nicene Creed as Dogma of the Church (1965), One Baptism for the Remission of Sins (1966), The Eucharist as Sacrifice (1967), Eucharist and Ministry (1970), Papal Primacy and the Universal Church (1974), Teaching Authority and Infallibility in the Church (1978), Justification by Faith (1985), The One Mediator, the Saints and Mary (1992), and Scripture and Tradition (1995).11 This list is in chronological order, in contrast with the more elaborate treatment of six of the nine dialogue series or “rounds”, which follows, drawing upon the agenda topics proposed in Ut Unum Sint. In keeping with the ecumenical spirit of the Vatican Council and its Decree on Ecumenism, Unitatis Redintegratio, Pope John Paul II released a most irenic encyclical, Ut Unum Sint: Encyclical Letter of the Holy Father John Paul II on Commitment to Ecumenism, on the Festival of the Ascension of the Lord, 25 May 1995. This document provides further evidence of the desire of the Church of Rome to build a bridge between the Vatican and other Christian communions, to come out of its former isolation into conversation and cooperation. The encyclical includes the surprising admission that the “ministry of the Bishop of Rome […] constitutes a difficulty for most other Christians, whose memory is marked by certain painful recollections”.12 John Paul extends an invitation to other ecclesial communities to engage in a “patient and fraternal dialogue […] leaving useless controversies behind […] keeping before us only the will of Jesus Christ for His Church and allowing ourselves to be deeply moved by his plea ‘that they may all be one […] so that the world may believe you have sent me’.”13 Ut Unum Sint is a response to Faith and Order. 11 Burgess Joseph – Gros Jeffrey (eds.), Building Unity: Ecumenical Dialogues with Roman Catholic
Participation. Ecumenical Documents IV. New York, 1989. Burgess Joseph – Gros Jeffrey (eds.), Growing Consensus: Church Dialogues in the United States (1962–1991). Ecumenical Documents V. New York, 1995.
12 Ut Unum Sint. 88. 13 Ut Unum Sint. 96.
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Evidence for this assumption is provided in the encyclical itself, in the pope’s own words: “With regard to other Christians, the principal documents of the Commission on Faith and Order and the statements of numerous bilateral dialogues have already provided Christian Communities with useful tools for discerning what is necessary to the ecumenical movement and to the conversion which it must inspire. These studies are important from two points of view: they demonstrate the remarkable progress already made, and they are a source of hope inasmuch as they represent a sure foundation for further study.”14 The topics which are emerging for ongoing study and reflection can be regarded as a mutual effort among ecumenically committed Christians to deal constructively with the doctrinal and institutional issues that continue to divide the churches. The research process of this paper will include matching five of the nine Lutheran – Roman Catholic dialogue topics with the five “areas in need of fuller study” that are proposed in Ut Unum Sint.15 A sixth topic which appears later in the encyclical, the ministry of unity of the Bishop of Rome, will also be matched with one of the dialogue topics. The matched or paralleled sequence is as follows: Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition (9. Scripture and Tradition), the Eucharist as the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ (3. The Eucharist as Sacrifice), Ordination as a Sacrament to the threefold ministry (4. Eucharist and Ministry), the Magisterium of the Church (6. Teaching Authority and Infallibility in the Church), the Virgin Mary (8. The One Mediator, the Saints, and Mary), and the ministry of unity of the Bishop of Rome (5. Papal Primacy and the Universal Church).16
I. Sacred Scripture and Sacred Tradition The full wording of this first study topic listed in Ut Unum Sint reads as follows: the “relationship between Sacred Scripture, as the highest authority in matters of faith, and Sacred Tradition, as indispensable to the Word of God”. The corresponding Lutheran – Roman Catholic theme of Round 9 is simply Scripture and Tradition.17 It is instructive to look at this dialogue report dated 1995 – the most re14 Ut Unum Sint. 17. 15 We informally refer to these five topics suggested by Pope John Paul II as the Vatican Quinqualateral,
in contrast with the Lambeth Quadrilateral of the Anglican communion.
16 The topics are located in Ut Unum Sint. 79 and 88–96. 17 Skillrud Harold C. – Stafford J. Francis – Martensen Daniel F. (eds.), Scripture and Tradition:
Lutheran – Roman Catholic Dialogue IX. Minneapolis, 1995.
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cent in the series of nine – and note that, unlike the listing of three separate Lutheran bodies in the first dialogue report of 1965, the Lutheran participants are now identified either as members of the larger and ecumenically committed Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA), or the Lutheran Church – Missouri Synod, which remains more cautious about ecumenical relationships.18 The beginning and ending dates mentioned here are reminders that these dialogues have met a three-decade test of time. Why are the agreements documented in this report so significant? The goal stated in the report’s introduction offers a clue: “We hope that the way we address this problem can move our churches beyond the historic opposition between a Lutheran insistence on ‘Scripture alone’ (sola scriptura) and the Roman Catholic two-source theory of revelation by Scripture and Tradition.”19 According to an Educational Paper prepared by the Lutheran – Roman Catholic Coordinating Committee in 1998, the central issue concerning this topic is that at the time of the Reformation, “there was a conflict between the churches on the roles of Scripture and Tradition. The reformers asserted that adherence to Tradition distorted the preaching of the Gospel.”20 A more complete description of the dialogue report, Scripture and Tradition, requires at least mention of the four main sub-topics that are included in this document, prior to the conclusion. Following the introduction, there are these chapter headings: The Word of God, Evolution of the Problem, Theological Considerations, and The Living Word in the Community of Faith.21 The conclusion notes that the discussions have shown a “large measure of agreement and some remaining differences of doctrine or emphasis”, and then itemises these seven “significant points of agreement”: “Holy Scripture has pre-eminent status as the Word of God. […] Before the Old and New Testaments existed in written form, the Word of God was carried by Tradition. Under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, Scripture gives rise to the oral proclamation of the law and gospel. The pre-eminent status of Scripture does not exclude the function of a teaching office. […] There are no historically verifiable apostolic traditions that are not attested in some way by Scripture. Not all true doctrine needs to be simply and literally present in the Bible, but may be deduced from it. The teaching of doctrine
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in the Church is never above the Word of God, but must serve that Word and be in conformity with it.”22 A most concise and positive appraisal of these agreements appeared in a book review newsletter of the Augsburg Publishing House. The reviewer, Arthur W. Turfa, sees a “convergence in thought between the Lutheran principles of sola Scriptura […] and the Roman Catholic understanding of Tradition.”23 Adding to the ecumenical significance of this question is the long list of documents and books on the theme of Scripture and Tradition,24 including the widely quoted text, Scripture, Tradition and Traditions, of the Fourth World Conference on Faith and Order held at Montreal in 1963.25 Also mentioned as a resource which enabled a “convergence between Roman Catholic and Lutheran understanding” is the Dogmatic Constitution on Divine Revelation (Dei Verbum) of the Vatican II documents.26 A final point to demonstrate the emerging commonality of thought on this issue is Pope John Paul’s designation of Sacred Scripture as the “highest authority in matters of faith.”27
II. The Eucharist as the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ The ambitious scope of the second topic on the list advanced by Pope John Paul II becomes apparent when reading it in its entirety: the “Eucharist as the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ, an offering of praise to the Father, the sacrificial memorial and real presence of Jesus Christ and the sanctifying outpouring of the Holy Spirit”.28 The Joint Working Group (JWG) between the Roman Catholic Church and the World Council of Churches (WCC) has called the wording of this topic a “vision consistent with the Eucharist section of BEM”, that is, the Faith and Order convergence statement on Baptism, Eucharist and Ministry of 1982.29 In order to appreciate the agreements in the corresponding Lu22 Scripture and Tradition. 49. 23 Book Newsletter. Augsburg Publishing House, 1995. 3. 24 Scripture and Tradition. 53.
18 Skillrud Harold C. – Stafford J. Francis – Martensen Daniel F. (eds.), Scripture and Tradition:
25 Rodger P. C. – Vischer Lukas (eds.), The Fourth World Conference on Faith and Order (Montreal,
19 Skillrud Harold C. – Stafford J. Francis – Martensen Daniel F. (eds.), Scripture and Tradition:
26 Abbott, Important Dates of Vatican II. 111–128.
Lutheran – Roman Catholic Dialogue IX. Minneapolis, 1995. 62. Lutheran – Roman Catholic Dialogue IX. Minneapolis, 1995. 21.
1963). London, 1964. 50–61.
27 Ut Unum Sint. 79.
20 The Lutheran–Catholic Quest for Visible Unity: Harvesting Thirty Years of Dialogue. 1998. 7.
28 Ut Unum Sint. 79.
21 Scripture and Tradition. 23–47.
29 Joint Working Group Between the Roman Catholic Church and the World Council of Churches,
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theran – Roman Catholic Dialogue III Report of 1967, The Eucharist as Sacrifice,30 a summary of some historical differences between the two churches is helpful. A report on The Eucharist produced by the international Joint Roman Catholic – Lutheran Commission in 1978 explains that the “reality of the Eucharistic presence” is confessed by Roman Catholics in affirming the “transformation of the whole substance of the bread and wine into the substance of the body and blood of Jesus Christ”, a change called “transubstantiation”, while the Evangelical-Lutherans speak of a “presence of Jesus Christ’s body and blood in, with and under the bread and wine – but not of transubstantiation”.31 The additional divisive issue in Eucharistic understanding is the emphasis by Roman Catholics that a “true and proper sacrifice is offered” in the holy mass,32 while EvangelicalLutherans have been “reticent about speaking of the Eucharist as a sacrifice”.33 Against this backdrop of doctrinal divergence, the convergences recorded in the Dialogue III Report are significant. While indicating remaining differences, this is what the dialogue participants were able to say together about the Eucharist as sacrifice: Evangelical-Lutherans and Roman Catholics alike acknowledge that in the Lord’s Supper Jesus Christ is “present as the Crucified Who died for our sins and Who rose again for our justification, as the once-for-all sacrifice for the sins of the world Who gives Himself to the faithful”. The confessional documents of both traditions agree that the celebration of the Eucharist is the Church’s sacrifice of praise and self-offering or oblation. Each tradition can make the following statement its own: “By him, with him and in him who is our great High Priest and Intercessor we offer to the Father, in the power of the Holy Spirit, our praise, thanksgiving and intercession. With contrite hearts we offer ourselves as a living and holy sacrifice, a sacrifice which must be expressed in the whole of our daily lives.”34 Agreements on Jesus Christ’s Eucharistic presence include these quotations from the summary in the joint statement: “We affirm that in the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper Jesus Christ, true God and true human, is present wholly and entirely, in his body and blood, under the signs of the bread and wine. […] Our traditions have spoken of 30 Lutherans and Catholics in Dialogue III: The Eucharist as Sacrifice. 1967.
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this presence as ‘sacramental’, ‘supernatural’ and ‘spiritual’. These terms have […] in common a rejection of a spatial or natural manner of presence, and a rejection of an understanding of the sacrament as only commemorative or figurative. The term ‘sign’, once suspect, is again recognised as a positive term for speaking of Jesus Christ’s presence in the sacrament.”35 A ringing endorsement of these agreements, from a historical perspective, is offered by Harry J. McSorley CSP, who was a professor of ecumenical theology at Saint Paul’s College, Washington D.C.: “The participants were gratefully aware […] that at no time since the Reformation have representative Evangelical-Lutheran and Roman Catholic Christians been able to speak with such unanimity on the meaning of the Lord’s Supper.”36 In the foreword of the report, an Evangelical-Lutheran, Paul C. Empie, and a Roman Catholic bishop, T. Austin Murphy, who co-chaired the dialogue team, said that the “participants judged the outcome of the dialogue on this particular subject to be especially significant. The fact that it occurred during the 450th anniversary year of the Protestant Reformation may be another sign of a turning point from cleavage toward convergence.”37
III. Ordination as a Sacrament to the Threefold Ministry The original intention of the U.S. Evangelical-Lutheran – Roman Catholic dialogue group was to move their conversations from “Eucharist” to the possibility of “intercommunion”. But this topic was set aside because, as Paul Empie and T. Austin Murphy report, “conversations on this subject quickly revealed that one could not even discuss the matter without considering the key question of a valid ministry in relation to the Eucharist”.38 Thus, Dialogue IV took up the topic Eucharist and Ministry. The central issues that have proven to be so challenging in connection with recognising the validity of ministry in another church are identified in an international EvangelicalLutheran – Roman Catholic dialogue on The Ministry of the Church in 1981. This report states that the Roman Catholic Church has traditionally assumed that the ministries of the Evangelical-Lutheran Church were “invalid”. The Second Vatican Council “speaks of a defectus in the sacrament of orders in the churches stemming from the
31 Meyer Harding – Vischer Lukas (eds.), Growth in Agreement: Reports and Agreed Statements of
Ecumenical Conversations on a World Level. Ecumenical Documents II. New York–Genève, 1982. 204.
32 Meyer Harding – Vischer Lukas (eds.), Growth in Agreement: Reports and Agreed Statements of
Ecumenical Conversations on a World Level. Ecumenical Documents II. New York–Genève, 1982. 205.
35 Eucharist as Sacrifice. 192–193. 36 Eucharist as Sacrifice. 17.
33 Eucharist as Sacrifice. 186.
37 Eucharist as Sacrifice. 3.
34 Eucharist as Sacrifice. 188–189.
38 Lutherans and Catholics in Dialogue IV: Eucharist and Ministry. 1970. 3.
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Reformation”.39 This defect is due to the Roman Catholic conviction that there is a lack of “fullness” in the ministry of the Evangelical-Lutheran Church, and that “standing in the historic succession belongs to the fullness of the episcopal ministry”.40 Thus, the complete wording of the corresponding Ut Unum Sint topic includes the “threefold ministry of the episcopate, presbyterate and diaconate”.41 Evangelical-Lutherans, on the other hand, while quite unyielding about matters of faith, are very flexible regarding church order, holding that “any form of polity which serves the proclamation of the Gospel is acceptable”, including the episcopacy, with or without “apostolic succession”.42 In fact, the Evangelical-Lutheran confessions indicate a preference for retaining the traditional episcopal order and discipline of the Church, and express regret that no bishop was willing to ordain priests for evangelical congregations.43 When the report of Dialogue IV presents its Common Observations on Eucharistic Ministry, the agreements seem sketched out in “broader strokes” than those recorded in Dialogues IX and III discussed above. There is the recognition of an emphasis on “doctrinal succession” in the New Testament and patristic periods; EvangelicalLutheran practice shows a “conviction concerning the sacramental reality of ordination to the ministry”, which indicates “considerable convergence between the Roman Catholic and Evangelical-Lutheran understanding of ordination”; the “diverse ways in which […] ministry has been structured and implemented in the Roman Catholic and Evangelical-Lutheran traditions” is acknowledged with this common affirmation that goes beyond mere “observation”: “We are agreed that the basic reality of the apostolic ministry can be preserved amid variations in structure and implementation, in rites of ordination and in theological explanation. […] We rejoice together at the future prospect of Christian recognition and reconciliation opened by these recommendations.”44 Then, in a kind of “comparative ecclesiology” or “comparative methodology” approach that has been employed by the Commission 39 The Ministry in the Church (1981). Meyer Harding – Vischer Lukas (eds.), Growth in Agreement:
Reports and Agreed Statements of Ecumenical Conversations on a World Level. Ecumenical Documents II. New York–Genève, 1982. 271.
40 Meyer Harding – Vischer Lukas (eds.), Growth in Agreement: Reports and Agreed Statements of
Ecumenical Conversations on a World Level. Ecumenical Documents II. New York–Genève, 1982. 272.
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on Faith and Order of the World Council of Churches (WCC),45 the report includes two separate reflections, first by the Evangelical-Lutheran and then by the Roman Catholic participants. At the end of each reflection, recommendations are made in bold-face type. The Evangelical-Lutherans urge that the participating Evangelical-Lutheran churches “declare formally their judgment that the ordained ministers of the Roman Catholic Church are engaged in a valid ministry of the Gospel […] and that the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ are truly present in their celebrations of the sacrament of the altar”.46 The Roman Catholic reflection indicates a new perspective and a departure from the traditional position, which held that, without ordination by a “bishop who stands in succession to the apostles”, a minister can “make no claim to a valid Eucharistic ministry”.47 There is an acknowledgement that “among most Evangelical-Lutherans there is no claim to an episcopate in historic succession to the apostles”, which means that Evangelical-Lutherans perpetuated a “presbyteral rather than an episcopal succession”.48 Building on these and other insights, the Roman Catholic participants offer additional affirmations as part of their concluding statement in bold-face type. They acknowledge in the “spirit of the Second Vatican Council that the Evangelical-Lutheran communities with which we have been in dialogue are truly Christian churches, possessing the elements of holiness and truth that mark them as organs of grace and salvation”. Furthermore, they report having found “serious defects in the arguments customarily used against the validity of the Eucharistic ministry of the Evangelical-Lutheran churches”, and add that they “see no persuasive reason to deny the possibility of the Roman Catholic Church recognising the validity of this ministry”. The Roman Catholic dialogue group then appeals to the authorities of their church to “recognise the validity of the Evangelical-Lutheran ministry and, correspondingly, the presence of the body and blood of Jesus Christ in the Eucharistic celebrations of the Evangelical-Lutheran churches”.49 Speaking on behalf of all the Evangelical-Lutheran and Roman 45 Falconer Alan D. (ed.), Beyond the Limits of the Familiar Landscape: Faith and Order in Moshi: The
1996 Commission Meeting. Genève, 1998. 41–43.
46 Eucharist and Ministry. 22.
41 Ut Unum Sint. 79.
47 Eucharist and Ministry. 23.
42 Eucharist and Ministry. 19.
48 Eucharist and Ministry. 23.
43 Eucharist and Ministry. 15.
49 Eucharist and Ministry. 31–33.
44 Eucharist and Ministry. 12–16.
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Catholic participants, Paul C. Empie and T. Austin Murphy announce in the foreword of the report their anticipation that the dialogues will continue with the “consideration of at least two or three additional theological issues, which have been stumbling-blocks to mutual understanding”. They conclude with this look toward the future: “We hope fervently that these efforts will make at least a modest contribution toward the ultimate outward realisation of the oneness which all Christians have in Jesus Christ.”50
IV. The Teaching Magisterium of the Church The complete wording of this fourth topic, also in Ut Unum Sint 79, indicates a breadth for which the summary below will prove to be inadequate: the “Magisterium of the Church, entrusted to the Pope and the bishops in communion with him, understood as a responsibility and an authority exercised in the name of Jesus Christ for teaching and safeguarding the faith”. The more concise corresponding topic of U.S. Dialogue Report VI is Teaching Authority and Infallibility in the Church (1980).51 This issue of the Magisterium is connected to the promulgation of papal infallibility during the First Vatican Council in 1870, which stated: the “bishop of Rome, as successor of Saint Peter in the primacy, is divinely protected from error when he speaks ex cathedra, that is, when as ‘pastor and doctor of all Christians’ and by virtue of his ‘supreme apostolic authority’, he ‘defines a doctrine concerning faith or morals’ to be held by the ‘universal Church’.”52 It was this infallibility which Pope Pius XII invoked when he defined the doctrine of the Assumption of Mary in 1950,53 a dogma which, until that ex cathedra moment, could have been accepted or rejected by the faithful as a pious opinion. Despite the controversy that surrounds the pope’s authority to speak infallibly, there is an emerging ecumenical appreciation of the need for the churches to “agree on common ways of decision-making and ways of teaching authoritatively”. This is one of the visible “marks” of unity affirmed by the World Council of Churches (WCC) 50 Eucharist and Ministry. 4. 51 Empie Paul C. – Murphy Austin T. – Burgess Joseph A. (eds.), Lutherans and Catholics in Dialogue
VI. Minneapolis, 1980.
52 Empie Paul C. – Murphy Austin T. – Burgess Joseph A. (eds.), Lutherans and Catholics in Dialogue
VI. Minneapolis, 1980. 12.
53 Empie Paul C. – Murphy Austin T. – Burgess Joseph A. (eds.), Lutherans and Catholics in Dialogue
VI. Minneapolis, 1980. 12.
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at its Vancouver Assembly in 1983.54 In addition, Willem A. Visser’t Hooft, former general secretary of the World Council of Churches (WCC), indicated his own concern about this need, against the backdrop of papal infallibility, which he expressed in a book he authored just prior to his death in 1985, Teachers and the Teaching Authorities: The Magistri and the Magisterium.55 In light of the confessional and ecumenical interest in this topic, the agreements reached in Round VI of the U.S. Evangelical-Lutheran – Roman Catholic dialogues are significant. After offering A Fresh Look at Doctrinal Authority in Relation to the Question of Infallibility, in which the roles of the Gospel and Scripture are highlighted, distinctive Roman Catholic and Evangelical-Lutheran emphases are identified, and then specific convergences are listed. These include the insistence that the “Word of God in the Scriptures is normative” and that the “apostolic Tradition […] is interpreted within the family of God with the assistance of tradition in the form of creeds, liturgies, dogma, confessions, doctrines, forms of church government and discipline”. Rather than the “infallibility” of the pope, the dialogue participants use the term “indefectibility” of the Church to describe its “perseverance in the truth of the gospel”. Among the means by which “Christ preserves the Church in the truth of the Gospel, there is the ministry of Word and sacrament”. The agreement recognises that the task of “bishops or other leaders” is to “judge doctrine and condemn doctrine that is contrary to the Gospel”, and that there may be a “ministry to the universal Church” that “includes responsibility for overseeing both the Church’s proclamation and, where necessary, the reformulation of doctrine in fidelity to the Scriptures”.56 A concluding statement maintains that the “ultimate trust of Christians is in Jesus Christ and the Gospel, not in a doctrine of infallibility, whether of Scripture, the Church, or the pope”. Immediately following is a remarkable Evangelical-Lutheran recognition of the “emphasis since the Second Vatican Council on the collegial relationship of the pope and the bishops” and the “intention of new styles of papal leadership by Pope John and Pope Paul”, plus the acceptance of the doctrine of infallibility as an “expression of confidence that the Spirit of God abides in the Church and guides it in the truth”.57 54 Gill David (ed.), Gathered for Life: Official Report, Sixth Assembly, World Council of Churches. Genève,
1983. 45. 55 Genève, 2000. 56 Teaching Authority and Infallibility. 14–26, 31. 57 Teaching Authority and Infallibility. 36.
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Alan Falconer, a former director of the Commission on Faith and Order, has acknowledged that this commission has also “begun to address the question of authoritative teaching and the teaching authority of the Church”.58 Falconer expressed the hope that Visser’t Hooft’s book on Teachers and Teaching Authorities may “help the churches […] to move towards convergence”.
V. The Virgin Mary A hint of the controversy surrounding the fifth agenda topic proposed in Ut Unum Sint lies in the fact that the corresponding Evangelical-Lutheran – Roman Catholic Dialogue VIII Report on The One Mediator, the Saints, and Mary, required fourteen conferences spread over seventeen years in order to produce fifteen scholarly papers and some statements of agreement.59 The priority given to The One Mediator in the dialogue title is in contrast with the full wording of the Ut Unum Sint topic, the “Virgin Mary, as Mother of God and Icon of the Church, the spiritual Mother who intercedes for Jesus Christ’s disciples and for all humanity”.60 In fairness to the Roman Catholic position, it is significant that the Second Vatican Council documents also affirm: “We have but one Mediator, as we know from the words of the apostle: ‘For there is one God, and one Mediator between God and people, himself human, Jesus Christ, who gave himself a ransom for all (1Tim. 2,5–6).’”61 Additional evidence of the dispute connected with the Virgin Mary is located in Chapter VIII of the Second Vatican Council Dogmatic Constitution on the Church (Lumen Gentium), entitled ‘The Role of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, in the Mystery of Jesus Christ and the Church’. Footnote 256 discloses some internal tensions among the bishops who participated in the Council proceedings: “This eighth chapter was appended to the Constitution on the Church as a result of a vote in the Council on October 29, 1963, in which the Fathers, by a small majority, decided not to issue a separate document on the Blessed Virgin, as had originally been planned. […] The entire text represents a skilful and prudent compromise 58 Visser’t Hooft Willem A., Teachers and the Teaching Authorities. IX. 59 Anderson H. George – Stafford J. Francis – Burgess Joseph A. (eds.), Lutherans and Catholics in
Dialogue VIII. Minneapolis, 1992. 13.
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between two tendencies in modern Roman Catholic theology, one of which would emphasise Mary’s unique connection with Jesus Christ the Redeemer; the other, her close connection with the Church and all the redeemed.”62 Another indication that this topic was also difficult for the Evangelical-Lutheran – Roman Catholic theologians in Dialogue VIII is the small proportion of two pages devoted to “Church-Uniting Convergences” out of a total of four hundred pages in the report. Although few in quantity, a sample of these agreements is presented in what follows, in order to demonstrate their quality. The convergences begin with a quotation from the just-preceding Dialogue VII Report, dated 1985, Justification by Faith: “We reiterate the basic affirmation that our ‘entire hope of justification and salvation rests on Jesus Christ and the Gospel. […] We do not place our ultimate trust in anything other than God’s promise and saving work in Jesus Christ.’ (L/RC 7:4, 157).”63 The 1Timothy 2,5 passage is then cited to “assert together that Jesus Christ is the sole Mediator in God’s plan of salvation”. Rather than Mary, Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit are singled out for their “intercessory role”. The term saint refers to all those “justified by the grace of Jesus Christ” and for “certain individuals among them, marked by holiness, who live the life of faith in devotion toward God and love towards the neighbour in exemplary ways”. The “communion of saints” confessed in the Apostles’ Creed “includes believers both living and dead”. It is after this more general treatment of saints that specific agreements on Mary are listed. She is described as the one “who bore Jesus Christ” and is in “particular to be honoured, as ‘God-bearer’ (theotokos) and as the pure, holy, and ‘most blessed Virgin’ (laudatissima virgo)”. The task of intercession is a part of “prayer to God”. While “saints on Earth ask one another to pray to God for each other through Jesus Christ, […] they are neither commanded nor forbidden to ask departed saints to pray for them”. The cautionary suggestion is made that “devotion to the saints and Mary should not be practiced in ways that detract from the ultimate trust that is to be placed in Jesus Christ alone as Mediator”. Under a short section on Next Steps, the report admits that our “churches are still separated by differing views on matters such as the invocation of saints and the Immaculate Conception and Assumption
60 Ut Unum Sint. 79.
62 Abbott, Important Dates of Vatican II. 85.
61 Abbott, Important Dates of Vatican II. 90.
63 The One Mediator. 60–62.
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of Mary”. But the Evangelical-Lutheran and Roman Catholic scholars anticipate “greater progress toward fellowship by taking two further steps within the framework of common study and dialogue”. Then it is recommended that Evangelical-Lutheran churches “acknowledge that the Roman Catholic teaching about the saints and Mary as set forth in the documents of the Second Vatican Council (192–201) does not promote idolatrous belief or practice and is not opposed to the gospel”. The Roman Catholic Church is asked to “acknowledge that in a closer but still incomplete fellowship, Evangelical-Lutherans, focusing on Jesus Christ the one Mediator, as set forth in Scripture, would not be obliged to invoke the saints or to affirm the two Marian dogmas (100, 102)”.64 With an eye toward the future, dialogue co-chairperson J. Francis Stafford and H. George Anderson write in the preface: “We now submit this document to the authorities, theologians, pastors, and people of our supporting churches for their reflection and judgment. We await their reaction to our findings and recommendations toward unity.”65 Eight years later in 1998, Dialogue Report VIII, dealing with Mary and the saints, was called the “most extended treatment of the subject in formal ecumenical literature”.66
VI. The Ministry of Unity of the Bishop of Rome The sixth topic proposed by Pope John Paul II in Ut Unum Sint, the ministry of unity of the Bishop of Rome, follows his list of five topics identified above, as if to suggest that the papacy is the culmination of the ecumenical agenda. While only one paragraph is needed to list the first five topics, nine paragraphs are devoted to the papacy, also referred to as the “ministry of the Successor of Peter”, “servus servorum Dei”, “the primacy of the Bishop of Rome”, “the Petrine ministry”, and the “first servant of unity”.67 John Paul says that he is in no way renouncing what is essential to the mission of the papacy, but declares that the “primacy […] is nonetheless open to a new situation”.68 In light of this development, former Archbishop John R. Quinn of San Francisco, California, calls the encyclical a “revolutionary docu-
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ment” and offers this paraphrase of what the pope is saying: “I realise that the papal primacy is a serious obstacle to our union. Let us talk about it and see what can be done. There are certain basic elements that the papal primacy will always have to have. But beyond that things can change. There can be a new way of papal primacy. I cannot say what that would be. I need your help in trying to discover it.”69 This commitment to a re-examination of the role of the papacy points to the contemporary significance of the corresponding Evangelical-Lutheran – Roman Catholic Dialogue Report V of 1974, Papal Primacy and the Universal Church.70 There were some historical controversies surrounding the papacy at the time of the sixteenth-century Reformation that add weight to the relevance of this fresh approach to these issues. Roman Catholics maintained that the papacy is a matter of divine law (ius divinum), while Evangelical-Lutherans insisted that the papacy was “established by human law, […] and that its claims to divine right are nothing short of blasphemous”.71 The concept of absolute papal power “was vehemently repudiated by Evangelical-Lutherans and was viewed by them as leading to intolerable ecclesiastical tyranny”. By contrast, the Dialogue V Report notes: “In the course of our discussions, however, we have been able to gain helpful and clarifying insights regarding these points of controversy.”72 The radically polemical view of Martin Luther, that the pope was the “Anti-Christ” because of Rome’s insistence that Christians cannot be saved without his power, is widely known. Philip Melanchthon also expressed concern about the abuse of papal authority, but was willing to “concede to him that superiority over the bishops which he possesses by human right, making this concession for the sake of peace and general unity”.73 A more recent historical reference that illustrates the official position of the Roman Catholic Church is this quotation from the Dogmatic Constitution of the Church (Lumen Gentium): “For in virtue of his office, that is, as Vicar of Christ and pastor of the whole Church, the Roman Pontiff has full, supreme, 69 Quinn John R., The Reform of the Papacy: The Costly Call to Christian Unity. Ut Unum Sint: Studies on
Papal Primacy. New York, 1999. 34.
70 Empie Paul C. – Murphy T. Austin (eds.), Lutherans and Catholics in Dialogue V. Minneapolis, 1974.
64 Brown Raymond E. – Donfried Karl P. – Fitzmeyer Joseph A. – Reumann John (eds.), Mary in the
71 Empie Paul C. – Murphy T. Austin (eds.), Lutherans and Catholics in Dialogue V. Minneapolis, 1974.
65 The One Mediator. 14.
72 Empie Paul C. – Murphy T. Austin (eds.), Lutherans and Catholics in Dialogue V. Minneapolis, 1974.
New Testament. Philadelphia – New York – Ramsey – Toronto, 1978.
66 The Lutheran-Catholic Quest. 6. 67 Ut Unum Sint. 88–96. 68 Ut Unum Sint. 95.
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13. 13. 73 Meyer Harding, Suprema Auctoritas ideo ab omne Errore Immunis: The Lutheran Approach to Primacy.
In Puglisi James F. (ed.), Petrine Ministry and the Unity of the Church: Toward a Patient and Fraternal Dialogue. Collegeville, 1999. 16, 19.
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and universal power over the Church. And he can always exercise this power freely.”74 One disappointment in reading the report of Dialogue V is that much of the so-called Common Statement is more accurately described by the major heading of the section Differing Attitudes towards Papal Primacy.75 A sample of these for the most part complementary perspectives will be demonstrated after first quoting a few examples of genuine agreement. Speaking in more general terms, the participating theologians were able to make this statement: “In these sessions, we have once again found common ground. There is a growing awareness among Evangelical-Lutherans of the necessity of a specific ministry to serve the Church’s unity and universal mission, while Roman Catholics increasingly see the need for a more nuanced understanding of the role of the papacy within the universal Church. Evangelical-Lutherans and Roman Catholics can now begin to envision possibilities of concord, and to hope for solutions to problems that have previously seemed insoluble. We believe that God is calling our churches to draw closer together, and it is our prayer that this joint statement on papal primacy may make some contribution to that end.”76 More specific agreement is recorded under the heading of Towards the Renewal of Papal Structures. The Norms for Renewal include the principles of legitimate diversity, collegiality, and subsidiarity, that is, allowing “every section of the Church” to exercise its “legitimate freedom”.77 As if to “think out loud” together, the Evangelical-Lutherans, and then the Roman Catholics, speculate about what a renewed papacy and Evangelical-Lutheran – Roman Catholic relationships would look like. The Evangelical-Lutherans propose a “ministry serving the unity of the Church universal”; a primacy which would be “more pastoral than juridical”; “so structured […] that it clearly serves the Gospel and the unity of the Church of Jesus Christ”; the “possibility of reconciliation, which would recognise the self-government of EvangelicalLutheran churches within a communion”; “acknowledge the Evangelical-Lutheran churches […] as sister churches, which are already entitled to some measure of ecclesiastical communion”; “affirm a new attitude towards the papacy ‘for the sake of peace and concord 74 Abbott, Important Dates of Vatican II. 43. 75 Papal Primacy. 9. 76 Papal Primacy. 10. 77 Papal Primacy. 19–20.
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in the Church’ and […] for a united witness to Jesus Christ in the world”; a “renewed papacy would in fact foster faithfulness to the Gospel and truly exercise a Petrine function within the Church”.78 The reflections of the Roman Catholic participants include the following ideas for consideration. Admitting that the Common Statement falls short of total agreement, the Roman Catholic team nevertheless considers it a “major advance in the ecumenical discussion of one of the most sensitive issues that have historically divided the Evangelical-Lutheran and Roman Catholic churches”. In the New Testament study, it is granted that “we have not […] found a clear and direct affirmation of the papacy itself”. The Second Vatican Council has “called for modifications in the Roman understanding of papal leadership”. “We share the concern of our Evangelical-Lutheran partners in dialogue that safeguards should be provided against violations of Christian rights and freedoms on the part of all ecclesiastical authority, papal included,” but “we cannot foresee any set of circumstances that would make it desirable, even if it were possible, to abolish the papal office”. There is a realisation that EvangelicalLutherans will “presumably not be in a position to adopt the same relationship to the see of Rome that is currently held by Roman Catholics”. But they suggest that a “distinct canonical status may be worked out by which Evangelical-Lutherans could be in official communion with the church of Rome. Such a restoration of communion, we believe, would be of great benefit to Roman Catholics, and to Evangelical-Lutherans, enabling them both to share in a broader Christian heritage.”79 Some of the proposals for a renewed papacy in Dialogue Report V are echoed in certain concepts of the papacy envisioned by Pope John Paul II in Ut Unum Sint. He regards his office as a “ministry of unity” and as not “exercising power over the people […] as the rulers of the gentiles”, but “leading them towards peaceful pastures”, working together with the “whole body of Bishops, who are also ‘vicars and ambassadors of Jesus Christ’”, desiring the “full and visible communion of all those Communities in which, by virtue of God’s faithfulness, God’s Spirit dwells”. He further describes the papal ministry as a “service of love recognised by all concerned”, a “ministry which presides in truth and love so that the ship – that beautiful symbol which the World Council of Churches (WCC) has chosen as its emblem – will not be buffeted by the storms and will one day reach its haven”.80 78 Papal Primacy. 21–33. 79 Papal Primacy. 33–38. 80 Ut Unum Sint. 88, 94, 95, 97.
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In these various agreements, reflections and proposals regarding the papacy – in the dialogue and in the encyclical – there is the disclosure of an ecumenical vision of a united Church in the future. Typical of this vision is the concluding reflection of the Roman Catholic participants in Dialogue V: “In such a wider communion of churches the papacy would be able to serve as a sign and instrument of unity, not simply for Roman Catholics, but for others, who have never ceased to pray and labour for the manifest unity of the whole Church of Jesus Christ”.81 The writer wishes to offer this brief update on the Lutheran-Roman Catholic dialogues in the United States. In 2005, a tenth round was completed and published under the title “The Church as Koinonia of Salvation: Its Structures and Ministries.” In 2010, an eleventh round, “The Hope of Eternal Life,” is anticipated for completion. On an international level, “The Apostolicity of the Church: Study Document of the Lutheran-Roman Catholic Commission on Unity,” was published by the Lutheran World Federation and the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity in 2006. This text, as well as the U.S. document on “The Church as Koinonia of Salvation,” deal with the challenging ecumenical issues of ecclesiology.
Nagypál Szabolcs
Speaking the Truth in Love: An Ecumenical Framework for Interreligious Dialogue
When drawing an ecumenical framework for interreligious dialogue, we must consider the history of this endeavour both in the circles of the Genève-based World Council of Churches (WCC) and the Rome-based Roman Catholic Church. Some important concepts such as religion, ideology, worldview and spirituality need to be defined as well. The Biblical basis for such a framework is constituted by the appearance of the word dialogue in both the Holy Scripture and in some interesting places which may serve as engines on the interreligious path. All these point towards a changing landscape of interreligious ideas and methods.
I. History of Thoughts on Interreligious Dialogue in the Ecumenical Movement
1. Interreligious Endeavours of the World Council of Churches (WCC) The first ecumenical meeting to address and deal with the question of interreligious dialogue and encounter was the legendary missionary conference which took place in 1910 in Edinburgh.1 This gathering decided to once and for all split with the previously practiced idea of comity, which means the allocation of certain areas for the work of a certain denominational foreign mission, whose consequence was
1 More on the history of interreligious dialogue may be read in the following entry: Ariarajah S. 81 Papal Primacy. 38.
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Wesley, Interfaith Dialogue. In Lossky Nicholas – Bonino José Míguez – Pobee John – Stransky Tom – Wainwright Geoffrey – Webb Pauline (eds.), Dictionary of the Ecumenical Movement. Genève, 1991. 281–286.
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In these various agreements, reflections and proposals regarding the papacy – in the dialogue and in the encyclical – there is the disclosure of an ecumenical vision of a united Church in the future. Typical of this vision is the concluding reflection of the Roman Catholic participants in Dialogue V: “In such a wider communion of churches the papacy would be able to serve as a sign and instrument of unity, not simply for Roman Catholics, but for others, who have never ceased to pray and labour for the manifest unity of the whole Church of Jesus Christ”.81 The writer wishes to offer this brief update on the Lutheran-Roman Catholic dialogues in the United States. In 2005, a tenth round was completed and published under the title “The Church as Koinonia of Salvation: Its Structures and Ministries.” In 2010, an eleventh round, “The Hope of Eternal Life,” is anticipated for completion. On an international level, “The Apostolicity of the Church: Study Document of the Lutheran-Roman Catholic Commission on Unity,” was published by the Lutheran World Federation and the Pontifical Council for Promoting Christian Unity in 2006. This text, as well as the U.S. document on “The Church as Koinonia of Salvation,” deal with the challenging ecumenical issues of ecclesiology.
Nagypál Szabolcs
Speaking the Truth in Love: An Ecumenical Framework for Interreligious Dialogue
When drawing an ecumenical framework for interreligious dialogue, we must consider the history of this endeavour both in the circles of the Genève-based World Council of Churches (WCC) and the Rome-based Roman Catholic Church. Some important concepts such as religion, ideology, worldview and spirituality need to be defined as well. The Biblical basis for such a framework is constituted by the appearance of the word dialogue in both the Holy Scripture and in some interesting places which may serve as engines on the interreligious path. All these point towards a changing landscape of interreligious ideas and methods.
I. History of Thoughts on Interreligious Dialogue in the Ecumenical Movement
1. Interreligious Endeavours of the World Council of Churches (WCC) The first ecumenical meeting to address and deal with the question of interreligious dialogue and encounter was the legendary missionary conference which took place in 1910 in Edinburgh.1 This gathering decided to once and for all split with the previously practiced idea of comity, which means the allocation of certain areas for the work of a certain denominational foreign mission, whose consequence was
1 More on the history of interreligious dialogue may be read in the following entry: Ariarajah S. 81 Papal Primacy. 38.
112
Wesley, Interfaith Dialogue. In Lossky Nicholas – Bonino José Míguez – Pobee John – Stransky Tom – Wainwright Geoffrey – Webb Pauline (eds.), Dictionary of the Ecumenical Movement. Genève, 1991. 281–286.
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that by agreement no other mission could work in that given area.2 As a follow-up to the encounter, the Edinburgh participants decided to form the International Missionary Council (IMC), which – because of the turmoil of the First World War (1914–1918) – could not take shape earlier than in 1921. Probably the most decisive meeting for the future of dialogue was the one in Tambaram, India, in 1938, where the Dutch Protestant theologian Hendrik Kraemer presented his significant book, The Christian Message in a Non-Christian World.3 In this book he uses and applies the important distinction introduced by Karl Barth between religion and faith. This meant the alleged superiority of Christianity, dealing with faith in Jesus Christ, as opposed to other religions, which are “just” religions – in other words, human attempts to establish a relationship with the transcendent. Another very influential answer to the same question came from the Indian theologian Paul David Devanandan in his paper written in 1956, The Word of God and the Living Faiths of Humans.4 He focuses on not handling people of other faiths as pure objects, but always as genuine partners in dialogue. The first study project concerning other faiths undertaken by the World Council of Churches (WCC), The Word of God and the Living Faiths of Humans, was approved by the Central Committee in 1956 in Galyatető, Hungary.5 The long-awaited merger of the International Missionary Council (IMC) and the World Council of Churches (WCC) finally took place in the New Delhi Assembly of the WCC in 1961 in India. The great leaders of the two movements at that time were well aware of the fact and law in social sciences that “either the movement disintegrates, or it becomes an institution: this is simply a sociological law”.6 In the next assembly of the World Council of Churches (WCC), in Uppsala, Sweden, in 1968, the participants invented and later issued a program on The Unity of the Church and the Unity of Humankind. The dialogue this program envisioned was intended to be simultaneously human, personal, relevant and humble. 2 Sly Virgil A. speaks about this idea of comity in the early nineteenth century missionary movement:
Sly Virgil A., The Œcumenical Era and Denominational Sovereignty. International Review of Missions (IRM) 1961/3. 266.
3 Kraemer Hendrik, The Christian Message in a Non-Christian World. Tambaram, 1938. 4 Devanandan Paul David, The Word of God and the Living Faiths of Humans. Tambaram, 1956. 5 Ariarajah S. Wesley emphasises the importance of this study approved in Galyatető, Hungary:
Ariarajah S. Wesley, Socio-Political Issues and the Credibility of Dialogue. In Ariarajah S. Wesley, Not without my Neighbour: Issues in Interfaith Relations. Genève, 1999. 73.
6 Bosch David J. refers to Weber Max with this rather evident or apparent insight in his great summary
and amazing encyclopædia on the issue of mission: Bosch David J., Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission. New York, 1991. 52.
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The World Council of Churches (WCC) Central Committee meeting in Leuven, Belgium, in 1971 decided upon and introduced the topic of The Unity of the Church and the Encounter with Living Faiths. This meeting entrusted the Indian Protestant pastor Stanley J. Samartha with the task of building up and leading the newly established World Council of Churches (WCC) Sub-unit on Dialogue with People of Living Faiths and Ideologies (DFI). This dialogue sub-unit then first focused on the question of seeking community and searching for communion with each other. We must emphasise here that there was definitely a certain slowness in setting up a sub-unit for interreligious dialogue. The Nairobi Assembly of the World Council of Churches (WCC) in 1975 brought a harsh but useful debate into the fore in many senses. Extraordinary Asian theologians, such as Lynn A. de Silva and J. Russell Chandran, represented the dialogue side in this debate. They mainly emphasised the need for mutual witness7 and plurality of witness8 with our neighbours. All in all, the hostility to interreligious dialogue was enormous at the WCC Nairobi Assembly. One of the most important documents of the dialogue sub-unit – and also of the whole World Council of Churches (WCC) and of the ecumenical movement – is the Guidelines on Dialogue with People of Living Faiths and Ideologies from 1979. The language it uses is utmostly refined – for example, it speaks about being genuine fellow-pilgrims with others – but it is interesting to note that there was a fourteen-year gap between Nostra Ætate and the Guidelines for Dialogue with People of Living Faiths and Ideologies. In the second meeting of the Dialogue with People of Living Faiths and Ideologies (DFI) Working Group, which happened to take place in 1980 in Mátrafüred, Hungary, they identified five emerging concerns of interreligious dialogue: community, spirituality, ideology, witness, and science and technology.9 The Vancouver Assembly of the World Council of Churches (WCC) in 1983 in Canada discussed among other things the topic of Witness in a Divided World. At the Assembly the negotiations were rather grudging, and the marginalisation of the dialogue sub-unit within programme unit two started after this. There was also change in the leadership of the sub-unit, when the 7 Ariarajah S. Wesley explains and elaborates the concept of mutual witness in Ariarajah S. Wesley,
Witness and Dialogue. In Ariarajah S. Wesley, The Bible and People of other Faiths. Genève, 1985. 39–47.
8 The study guide of the WCC sub-unit on dialogue speaks about the plurality of witness: My Neighbour’s
Faith and Mine – Theological Discoveries through Interfaith Dialogue: A Study Guide. Genève, 1986. 31.
9 Potter Philip, the then-editor of The Ecumenical Review, shares this short news about the meeting
in Mátrafüred, Hungary: Potter Philip, Dialogue Meeting Identifies Five New Areas of Concern. The Ecumenical Review 1980/3. 336–337.
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Methodist pastor S. Wesley Ariarajah from Sri Lanka took over this responsibility as the second director of the World Council of Churches (WCC) dialogue line. Hans Ucko later became his successor. The Baar Statement: Theological Perspectives on Plurality was an eye-opening text published in 1990 by a group of leading theologians and church leaders appointed by the World Council of Churches (WCC), but it was not officially endorsed afterwards.10 Thus the spirit of this document, which is closely connected to the acknowledgment of the plurality of witness, somehow got lost in the further work of the WCC. When summarising the theology, policy and activity of the World Council of Churches (WCC), we can recognise many ways in which the attitude towards other religions has been fairly ambivalent in this ecumenical organisation. All in all, there are five phases in the theoretical development of interreligious dialogue within the World Council of Churches (WCC) that can be discerned. The first phase of development is the beginning of the use of dialogue as a distinct term, meaning especially its form in community. Then the question of mission came amidst the reality of religious plurality. Some years later the dialogue wing became institutionalised as a WCC sub-unit on dialogue, whose important journal is Current Dialogue (CD).11 The findings of this dialogue sub-unit have slowly started to permeate and influence the life of the churches, susciting efforts to open and widen their horizons. But at present, some even speak about a virtual abandonment of the dialogue sub-unit’s theological achievements and trajectories present in the worldwide ecumenical reception.12 The future of this theological movement constitutes the fifth phase of development.13
10 Baar Statement: Theological Perspectives on Plurality. Baar, 1990. http://www.oikoumene.org/en/
resources/documents/wcc-programmes/interreligious-dialogue-and-cooperation/christian-identityin-pluralistic-societies/baar-statement-theological-perspectives-on-plurality.html. 11 One can find issues of Current Dialogue (CD) at the following address: http://www.oikoumene.org/
en/programmes/interreligiousdialogue/current-dialogue/magazine.html. 12 Cracknell Kenneth’s long article has an equally wide scope as the one of Kroeger James H., when
Cracknell summarises the seven ambivalent ways of interreligious relations within the World Council of Churches (WCC): Cracknell Kenneth, Ambivalent Theology and Ambivalent Policy: The World Council of Churches (WCC) and Interfaith Dialogue (1938–1999). Studies in Interreligious Dialogue 1999/1. 87–111. 13 Ariarajah S. Wesley detects and follows these five phases of theoretical development in Ariarajah S.
Wesley, Not without my Neighbour. In Ariarajah S. Wesley, Not without my Neighbour: Issues in Interfaith Relations. Genève, 1999. 7–9.
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2. Interreligious Developments in the Roman Catholic Church We may mention some Roman Catholic milestones as well in the road of interreligious dialogue: these are the key moments in the history of the Roman Catholic Church, when interreligious dialogue took an important turn.14 The Second Vatican Council (1962–1965) brought wide-ranging changes and paradigm shifts in this respect as well. It dealt with the interreligious question in at least five conciliar documents: Nostra Ætate (NÆ), Lumen Gentium (LG), Ad Gentes (AG), Gaudium et Spes (GS) and Dignitatis Humanæ (DH). Apart from issuing these documents, the Council established the Secretariat for Non-Christians in 1964, which was later renamed the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue (PCID) in 1988. In connection with these structural developments, Pope Paul VI (1963– 1978) issued the encyclical Ecclesiam Suam (ES), also in 1964, called by some the Roman Catholic magna charta of interreligious dialogue. The Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences (FABC) has become one of the forerunners and leading forces in the topic of interreligious dialogue following its plenary assembly in Taipei, Taiwan, in 1974. The Theses on Interreligious Dialogue: An Essay in Pastoral Theological Reflection of the Federation of Asian Bishops’ Conferences (FABC) was subsequently released in 1987, summarising their findings, firm stances and forward-looking perspectives.15 The Apostolic Exhortation of Pope Paul VI, Evangelii Nuntiandi (EN), was published in 1975. The document speaks with high respect, deep appreciation and genuine esteem about other religions and people of other faiths.16 Following the World Day of Prayer for Peace at Assisi in 1986, the Encyclical Redemptoris Missio: On the Permanent Validity of the Church’s Missionary Mandate (RM) was issued by Pope John Paul II in 1990. It deals with the mission of the Church of Jesus Christ and enlists three main kinds of dialogue: dialogue between experts or official representatives, the sharing of religious experience, and dialogue of life.17 14 Kroeger James H. MM provides a general overview on the twelve keys of Roman Catholic
developments of interreligious encounters: Kroeger James H. MM, Milestones in Interreligious Dialogue. Studies in Interreligious Dialogue 1997/2. 232–239.
15 Theses on Interreligious Dialogue: An Essay in Pastoral Theological Reflection. Hong Kong, 1987. 16 Pope Paul VI, Evangelii Nuntiandi (EN). Vatican, 1975. In http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/paul_
vi/apost_exhortations/documents/hf_p-vi_exh_19751208_evangelii-nuntiandi_en.html. 17 Pope John Paul II, Redemptoris Missio: On the Permanent Validity of the Church’s Missionary Mandate
(RM). Vatican, 1990. In http://www.vatican.va/holy_father/john_paul_ii/encyclicals/documents/hf_jpii_enc_07121990_redemptoris-missio_en.html.
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The Secretariat for Non-Christians, as it was still called at that time, published in 1984 The Attitude of the Church towards the Followers of Other Religions: Reflections and Orientations on Dialogue and Mission. It was later followed and extended by the document Dialogue and Proclamation: Reflections and Orientations on Interreligious Dialogue and the Proclamation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, published jointly in 1991 by the Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue (PCID) and the Congregation for the Evangelisation of Peoples.18 It distinguishes four different forms of interreligious dialogue: these are the dialogue of life, the dialogue of action, the dialogue of theological exchange, and the dialogue of religious experience. As we can see, dialogue of theological exchange equals dialogue between experts or official representatives, while dialogue of action originates from dialogue of life.19
II. Frame Concepts: Religion, Ideology, Worldview and Spirituality Before going on after this historical overview, it is crucial to define some key words and phrases connected to the interreligious realm and endeavour, especially the notions of religion, ideology, worldview and spirituality.
1. Religion as Framework for Seeking Salvation Religion is a particular framework endowed with a certain belief system, with a moral code, with a form of worship and finally with an authority structure to keep it together.20 It is a unified system of beliefs and practices, in which human beings seek salvation through relation to a transcendent power, and in which life is experienced as increased, unified, and given meaning through union with this sacred reality.21 In addition to this, and in accordance with their selfunderstanding, many religions claim that they are not only human quests, but they receive their mission and vocation from a divine inspiration or revelation. 18 Pontifical Council for Interreligious Dialogue (PCID) – Congregation for the Evangelisation of Peoples,
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2. Ideology as Guidance or Distortion These are not only world religions, but also different ideologies with which Christianity is challenged to engage in deep dialogue. In a positive sense, ideologies are coherent systems of notions and convictions which serve as guidance for analysing society, and for action to change this society.22 They may also be systems of ideas which can organise political and communitarian behaviour.23 In a negative sense, however, ideologies may be systematic distortions of truth and reality as well. They work, for example, at the levels of presuppositions and assumptions, social theory, radical social change, or secular faiths. The state can support dialogue by separating religion and state, protecting the free practice of religion, and maintaining a common system of laws equally valid for all.24
3. Worldview as Overall Interpretation of Environment Worldview as a concept most of all means the overall interpretation of the conditions in the world around us and the understanding of our role in and in relation with that surrounding world.25 For example, there have been some distinct phases in the history of the interreligious worldview of European Christianity. In the Middle Ages, the interreligious relationships concentrated mainly on Judaism and Islam, and the Ottoman Empire was understood in apocalyptic terms. After the European discovery of the Americas, there was an extensive triangular trade in the North Atlantic community, marked by the forced mission of the conquistadores. From the nineteenth century onward, the modern missionary movement was dominated by the optimist ideology of social Darwinism. On the other hand, interreligious dialogue in the twentieth century is informed by the fact of religious pluralism. Thus, some of the challenges facing Western (and Middle Eastern) monotheism are the mythological matrix, the Asian notion of emptiness, and the experience of other revelations.26 22 Samartha Stanley J. quotes this definition: Samartha Stanley J., “... And Ideologies”. The Ecumenical
Review 1972/4. 482.
Dialogue and Proclamation: Reflections and Orientations on Interreligious Dialogue and the Proclamation of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Vatican, 1991. In http://www.vatican.va/roman_curia/pontifical_councils/ interelg/documents/rc_pc_interelg_doc_19051991_dialogue-and-proclamatio_en.html.
23 Samartha Stanley J. quotes the Nemi Report of Church and Society in Samartha Stanley J., “... And
19 Defined and analysed in McDonald Kevin, Dialogue and Proclamation: A Comment from an Ecumenical
in Interfaith Dialogue. In Moltmann Jürgen, Experiences in Theology: Ways and Forms of Christian Theology. London, 2000. 21–22.
20 Arinze Francis starts his article with these definitions of spirituality and religion in Arinze Francis,
25 Hallencreutz Carl F. speaks about the four phases of the Christian worldview, and he also defines
Perspective. Bulletin (Pro Dialogo) 1993/2. 128–129.
Spirituality in Dialogue. Pro Dialogo 1977/3. 371–372.
21 This definition is based on the one of Viladesau Richard, quoted in Kuttianimattathil SDB Jose,
Practice and Theology of Interreligious Dialogue: A Critical Study of the Indian Christian Attempts since the Second Vatican Council. Bangalore, 1995. 6.
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Ideologies”. The Ecumenical Review 1972/4. 482.
24 Moltmann Jürgen speaks about the great world religions in his chapter: Moltmann Jürgen, Theology
the meaning of worldview in Hallencreutz Carl F., Dialogue and Community: Reflections from a European Periphery. The Ecumenical Review 1977/1. 12–14.
26 Berger Peter L. enlists these three challenges to the whole monotheistic idea for us to cope with in
his article: Berger Peter L., God in a World of Gods. First Things 1993/8. 29–31. www.firstthings.com/
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Introduction
4. Spirituality as Resource and Sustenance Spirituality gives meaning and a sense of direction to human life, calling to go to our higher self and even beyond this self; and it aspires to relationship with a Divine Being or God Godself. In dialogue, people of faith have discovered that they are all searching for ways of liberation from “I”-consciousness and for an interiorised relationship with Transcendent Reality.27 The prophets are not so much upset about other gods, but about how religion corrupts people and is corrupted by people.28 In connection with spirituality, we may differentiate between prayer and worship. Prayer is on the one hand an attempt by human beings to be in communication or even in communion with God;29 and on the other hand it may be contemplation: openness, readiness and presence for the call of the Transcendent. Worship, on the other hand, is a systematically ordered response to a realised experience of the Sacred within a specific religious community.30 It is high time to recognise and acknowledge the other world religions as spiritual contexts whose resources have provided spiritual sustenance, theological direction and ethical guidance to billions of people throughout the millennia. They are also foundations for the building up of various cultures and civilizations.31 They promote and secure the survival of humanity in the framework of the Earth’s organism. Thus holiness of life reached in our spiritual traditions is a prerequisite to dialogue.
ftissues/ft9308/articles/berger.html. 27 Both interreligious discoveries are from Wickremesinghe Lakshman, Living Faiths in Dialogue.
International Review of Mission 1979/4. 387. 28 Dietrich Gabrielle states this when she speaks about the meaning of conversion in different contexts:
Dietrich Gabrielle, Dialogue and Context. The Ecumenical Review, 1981/1. 29–30.
29 Ariarajah S. Wesley defines prayer in Ariarajah S. Wesley, Can We Pray Together? Interreligious Prayer:
A Protestant Perspective. Pro Dialogo 1998/2. 262–263.
30 Ariarajah S. Wesley also defines in this way prayer and worship in Ariarajah S. Wesley, Dialogue and
Spirituality: Can We Pray Together?. In Ariarajah S. Wesley, Not without my Neighbour: Issues in Interfaith Relations. Genève, 1999. 38–39.
31 Samartha Stanley J. argues for this new recognition of world religions as spiritual contexts in
Samartha Stanley J., Mission in a Religiously Plural World: Looking beyond Tambaram (1938). International Review of Mission 1988/3. 312, 321.
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III. Biblical Basis for Dialogue
1. The Word Dialogue in the New Testament There are two verbs which linguistically can be connected to dialoguing in the New Testament. The one closest to the meaning we are looking for is dialegomai. It appears thirteen times in the Bible, of which ten times are in the Acts of the Apostles. It is obvious that Luke likes this verb and often depicts the action of Paul with this word. It can mean, however, different things according to the context. Paul argues (dielέξaτo) with the Jews from the Scriptures in the synagogue of Thessalonica on three consecutive Sabbath days.32 In Athens he does the same: he argues (dielέgeτo) in the synagogue with Jews and devout people, as well as in the marketplace with those who happened to be there.33 He continues to do this in Corinth, too: he argues (dielέgeτo) in the synagogue and tries to convince Jews and Greeks alike.34 In Ephesus, Paul goes to the synagogue and has a discussion with the Jews.35 Returning to Ephesus after some time, he speaks out boldly in the synagogue and argues (dialegόmeνoς) persuasively about the Reign of God.36 After having to leave the synagogue, he continues to argue (dialegόmeνoς) in the lecture hall of Tyrannus, also in Ephesus.37 In Troas, at a Eucharistic festive occasion, Paul holds a discussion (dielέgeτo) with the congregation.38 He talks (dialegomένoυ) even longer there, so that Eutychus falls asleep and dies, only to be resurrected in short order.39 In front of Felix, the governor of Jerusalem, Paul claims that he never disputed (dialegόmeνoν) in the temple with the people there, and never stirred up crowds in the synagogues and throughout the city.40 This is fairly surprising when we take into account the enlisted occasions. Some days later, in a private audience, Paul discusses (dialegomένoυ) justice, self-control and the coming judgement with Felix and his wife Drusilla.41 32 Acts 17,2. 33 Acts 17,17. 34 Acts 18,4. 35 Acts 18,19.
II. Unlimited Dialogue: Passion Communicated
Apart from the Acts and Paul, there are only three mentions of the verb in the whole New Testament. The disciples are arguing (dielέχτησaν) with one another about who is the greatest among them.42 In Hebrews the author quotes the Proverbs,43 where the exhortation addresses (dialέgeτaι) us as children.44 For us the most interesting mention of dialoguing is the thirteenth one, which is also connected to the Old Testament. Jude refers to a para-Biblical tradition (according to Origen of Alexandria [185–254] the story is from a book entitled The Assumption of Moses), which tells us that angels buried the body of Moses in an unknown place in order to avoid its veneration.45 Deuteronomy only says that Moses was buried in a valley in the land of Moab, opposite Beth-Peor.46 Jude says that the archangel Michael contended with the devil and heavily disputed the body of Moses. So it seems from the enlisted texts that it is possible to be engaged in dialogue with people of our own faith, even if they exercise power upon us, or they are our disciples; furthermore, it is possible with neighbours of other faiths, or with people of no faith, or even with the devil itself. Moreover, even in this special diabolic dialogue we should not bring a condemnation of slander against the other, as Michael did not dare it; we can only offer dialogue into the hands of God. This is the exact reason why Jude refers to this legend: because there are persons who are quick to slander whatever they do not understand. Through this story we can see the purification of language as a prerequisite for dialogue, the bondages of identity as obstacles to dialogue, and mutual understanding as a main goal of dialogue.
2. Interreligious Considerations in the Bible In the New Testament (NT), especially in the letters of the Saint Paul the Apostle, the question is not so much whether there is another God in the Universe, but whether Jesus Christ is the only way to our God. The special language we get acquainted with in the Bible is not a kind of dogmatic or systematic language of the one absolute truth. The Biblical rhetorics rather use and apply the emotionally rich and inspiring language of faith and of love, especially the deep love of a child towards one’s Parent.
36 Acts 19,8. 37 Acts 19,9.
42 Mark 9,34.
38 Acts 20,7.
43 Proverbs 3,11–12.
39 Acts 20,9.
44 Hebrews 12,5.
40 Acts 24,12.
45 Jude 9.
41 Acts 24,25.
46 Deuteronomy 34,6.
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The Gospel according to Matthew tells and informs us about God’s fundamental impartiality:47 “God makes God’s Sun to shine on bad and good people alike; and gives rain to those who do good, and to those who do evil.”48 In his letter, the Apostle James writes about the universality of the possibility of wisdom: “If any of you lack wisdom, you should pray to God, Who will give it to you; because God gives generously and graciously to all.”49 In the Acts of the Apostles, Saint Peter the Apostle makes the following statement:50 “God treats everyone on the same basis. Whoever worships God and does what is right is acceptable to God; no matter what race one belongs to.”51 In Acts we can read the title of a pagan altar: “To an Unknown God.” So Paul can surprisingly declare: “That which you worship, then, even though you do not know it, is what I now proclaim to you.”52 The author offers another inclusive and all-embracing reading: “We too are God’s children. In God we live and move and have our being.”53 Another place claims: “God has no favourites, but in every nation the person who is God-fearing and does what is right is accepted by God.”54 In the same book we find the most decisive statement about God’s care for all peoples on the Earth, and about God’s divine plan for salvation, in which all nations have an important role to play. This passage is much-quoted and variously interpreted in the history of Biblical hermeneutics. It reads as follows: “In the past, God let all nations go their own way. Yet God has not left Godself without a witness.”55 We cannot cite here all the texts opposing (sometimes only seemingly) interreligious dialogue. But among others, these enlisted Biblical places constitute some of the considerations based on the Holy Scripture which we must take into account when engaging in the process of interreligious dialogue.
II. Unlimited Dialogue: Passion Communicated
IV. A Changing Landscape of Interreligious Ideas Some of the most significant and most controversial issues in interreligious dialogue are the ones of theological, Biblical, liturgical, cultural and psychological nature: the question of Truth, theological basis, mission and witness, ideologies, spiritual resources, worship and prayer.56 But there can be many points of contact with other believers, too: the one Creator, our aspirations for transcendence, fasting and almsgiving, prayer and meditation, pilgrimage, and so on. A special place is reserved in the realm of dialogue for the different interreligious, cross-community, intercultural and interfaith marriages, which themselves serve as unique and rich communities.57 Following almost total opposition, dialogue is historically the third kind of response of Christianity to the challenges of religious pluralism in Asia. The first response was the reaction of adaptation: the appropriation of psychological elements, taking them out of their context and putting them in the hands of God.58 The second response was naturalisation: going back to the basics of religion, and finding there common points of reference. And only recently Christianity has used dialogue as a method to build community with the other fellowcountrypersons.59 According to S. Wesley Ariarajah, the birth of the concept of dialogue was when Christianity decided especially in India that in the long and painful process of nation building, people of different living faiths should no longer be only the objects of discussions, but equal partners in conversation.60 He also acknowledges that there has been a change from Teutonic captivity (the ancient Greek philosophy 56 Samartha Stanley J. collects and evaluates the different topics dealt with in various interreligious
dialogues in his overviewing article: Samartha Stanley J., Dialogue: Significant Issues in the Continuing Debate. The Ecumenical Review, 1972/3. 333.
57 At the moment, there is a policy of effective isolation in almost all religious communities towards 47 Ariarajah S. Wesley quotes this important passage from the Bible in Ariarajah S. Wesley, A Biblical
Basis for Dialogue? In Ariarajah S. Wesley, The Bible and People of Other Faiths. Genève, 1985. 31.
48 Matthew 5,45. 49 James 1,5. 50 Also quoted in Christians in Dialogue with People of other Faiths (Zürich, 1970). International Review of
Mission 1970/4. 383. 51 Acts 10,34–35. 52 Acts 17,22–23. 53 Acts 17,28. 54 Acts 10,34–35. 55 Acts 14,17.
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interreligious couples. It can mean an accusation of betrayal from the part of the community, the losing of confidence for support, and a strange fear of interference on the part of pastors and spiritual leaders. The ironic “solution” for the situation usually means either the conversion of one spouse to the other’s religion, or the nominal religiosity of one, or a kind of undeclared peace inside the walls of the marriage. See Ariarajah S. Wesley, Interreligious Marriage: Problem or Promise? In Ariarajah S. Wesley, Not without my Neighbour: Issues in Interfaith Relations. Genève, 1999. 85–99.
58 Bavinck J. H. dedicates a whole article to this phase of the interreligious encounter, and he deals
with it as a means of communication in Bavinck J. H., The Problem of Adaptation and Communication. International Review of Missions 1956/3. 307–313.
59 Wickremesinghe Lakshman enlists the three responses to the contextual challenge in Wickremesinghe
Lakshman, Christianity in the Context of other Faiths. In Fabella Virginia (ed.), Asia’s Struggle for Full Humanity: Towards a Relevant Theology. New York, 1980. 29–31.
60 Ariarajah S. Wesley draws our attention to this fundamental paradigm shift in Indian theology and
the Christian way of thinking, attributed to Devanandan Paul David in Ariarajah S. Wesley, The Ecumenical Impact of Interreligious Dialogue. The Ecumenical Review 1997/2. 214.
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embodied in the Holy Roman Empire, spiced with some Germanic temperament) and from exclusivism, as well as from a certain form of functional polytheism, to a new or wider or macro-ecumenism of religions.61 We could contrast sharply the Christian theology of religion, which is conceptual, doctrinal and antagonistic, with the Christian theology of religions, which is historical, social and political, as well as empathetic.62 Accordingly, Israel Selvanayagam greets the developments that the emphasis of the Christian theology of dialogue has shifted mainline Christian theology from Christocentric universalism, Christomonism or a kind of totalitarianism, towards the concept of the previousness of Jesus Christ, or a Jesus Christ-centred secular fellowship. The responses for these challenges are different exclusivist, inclusivist and pluralist theological models.63 Parallel with these, dialogue people have started to rediscover and revitalise various ancient theories and theologies, like the one of the seeds of the word, or the theology of the pre-existent Logos. In sum, if we consider the other religions to worship other “gods” or “goddesses” and thus refuse to take part in their prayer occasions, we are basically guilty of functional polytheism, since there is only one God.64 Instead, if we really want to share our love and charity with other persons, we are challenged to evolve and develop a theology which can try to find places for the others’ narratives, in order to involve them as well in the mainstream of the salvation history God offers to all people on Earth.
61 Ariarajah S. Wesley tries to convince us about these categories in his article: Ariarajah S. Wesley,
Towards a Theology of Dialogue. The Ecumenical Review, 1977/1. 4.
62 Song Choan-Seng speaks about the plural and singular form in his article: Song Choan-Seng, The
Power of God’s Grace in the World of Religions. The Ecumenical Review 1987/1. 46.
63 Selvanayagam Israel summarises these three responses to religious pluralism in Selvanayagam
Israel, Christian Theology and Mission in the midst of many Theologies and Missions. In Theological Perspectives on other Faiths. Lutheran World Federation Documentation 1997/41. 185–187.
64 The term functional polytheism is from Ariarajah S. Wesley, No Other God. In Ariarajah S. Wesley,
The Bible and People of other Faiths. Genève, 1985. 10.
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An Outline of the
Philosophical Care of the Soul:
Phenomenology, Existential-Analytic Logotherapy and Philosophical Counselling Beginning with ancient Greek philosophy, one of the most important characteristics of philosophical self-awareness is the parallel between body and soul, on the basis of which philosophers perceived philosophy as therapy of the soul. Plato, for example, often compared the scientific and therapeutic ambitions of the philosopher to the activity of a medical doctor (see Gorgias 464a). This connection was first brought to our attention by Werner Jaeger, who identified Plato’s philosophy with the expression Therapie der Seele (Werner Jaeger. 1954. II. 32.), that is, cure of the soul, a kind of psychotherapy. The philosophical tradition of cure of the soul, with all the peculiar ruptures of the Middle Ages and modernity, is still alive in XXth century philosophy; let us only think of the work of Ludwig WittgenStein, or the Czech philosopher Jan Patočka, who was also a disciple of Werner Jaeger. Recent philosophy has put the subject again into the forefront of philosophical discourse, primarily due to the works of Pierre Hadot and Michel Foucault; and, like any truly important mental achievements, this also searches for the meaning of philosophy. Pierre Hadot in his publications draws our attention to the original practical nature of ancient Greek philosophy, as well as to the fact that
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embodied in the Holy Roman Empire, spiced with some Germanic temperament) and from exclusivism, as well as from a certain form of functional polytheism, to a new or wider or macro-ecumenism of religions.61 We could contrast sharply the Christian theology of religion, which is conceptual, doctrinal and antagonistic, with the Christian theology of religions, which is historical, social and political, as well as empathetic.62 Accordingly, Israel Selvanayagam greets the developments that the emphasis of the Christian theology of dialogue has shifted mainline Christian theology from Christocentric universalism, Christomonism or a kind of totalitarianism, towards the concept of the previousness of Jesus Christ, or a Jesus Christ-centred secular fellowship. The responses for these challenges are different exclusivist, inclusivist and pluralist theological models.63 Parallel with these, dialogue people have started to rediscover and revitalise various ancient theories and theologies, like the one of the seeds of the word, or the theology of the pre-existent Logos. In sum, if we consider the other religions to worship other “gods” or “goddesses” and thus refuse to take part in their prayer occasions, we are basically guilty of functional polytheism, since there is only one God.64 Instead, if we really want to share our love and charity with other persons, we are challenged to evolve and develop a theology which can try to find places for the others’ narratives, in order to involve them as well in the mainstream of the salvation history God offers to all people on Earth.
61 Ariarajah S. Wesley tries to convince us about these categories in his article: Ariarajah S. Wesley,
Towards a Theology of Dialogue. The Ecumenical Review, 1977/1. 4.
62 Song Choan-Seng speaks about the plural and singular form in his article: Song Choan-Seng, The
Power of God’s Grace in the World of Religions. The Ecumenical Review 1987/1. 46.
63 Selvanayagam Israel summarises these three responses to religious pluralism in Selvanayagam
Israel, Christian Theology and Mission in the midst of many Theologies and Missions. In Theological Perspectives on other Faiths. Lutheran World Federation Documentation 1997/41. 185–187.
64 The term functional polytheism is from Ariarajah S. Wesley, No Other God. In Ariarajah S. Wesley,
The Bible and People of other Faiths. Genève, 1985. 10.
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Sárkány Péter
An Outline of the
Philosophical Care of the Soul:
Phenomenology, Existential-Analytic Logotherapy and Philosophical Counselling Beginning with ancient Greek philosophy, one of the most important characteristics of philosophical self-awareness is the parallel between body and soul, on the basis of which philosophers perceived philosophy as therapy of the soul. Plato, for example, often compared the scientific and therapeutic ambitions of the philosopher to the activity of a medical doctor (see Gorgias 464a). This connection was first brought to our attention by Werner Jaeger, who identified Plato’s philosophy with the expression Therapie der Seele (Werner Jaeger. 1954. II. 32.), that is, cure of the soul, a kind of psychotherapy. The philosophical tradition of cure of the soul, with all the peculiar ruptures of the Middle Ages and modernity, is still alive in XXth century philosophy; let us only think of the work of Ludwig WittgenStein, or the Czech philosopher Jan Patočka, who was also a disciple of Werner Jaeger. Recent philosophy has put the subject again into the forefront of philosophical discourse, primarily due to the works of Pierre Hadot and Michel Foucault; and, like any truly important mental achievements, this also searches for the meaning of philosophy. Pierre Hadot in his publications draws our attention to the original practical nature of ancient Greek philosophy, as well as to the fact that
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S árkány Péter: The Philosophical Care of the Soul
philosophical thinking was embodied in spiritual exercises (such as meditation, examination of one’s consciousness, or the contemplation of nature), which aimed at the formation of the philosopher’s soul and character. In this sense, Pierre Hadot concludes, philosophy is actually an ascetic practice applied to our own selves, a lifestyle achieved by the act of thinking. A lifestyle which primarily aims at the love of wisdom, the three aspects of which are: peace of the soul (ataraxia), inner freedom (autarkeia) and cosmic consciousness (Pierre Hadot. 1991, 179.). Undoubtedly, philosophy as a lifestyle has been achieved in various forms in the outstanding and methodologically self-conscious philosophies of the XXth century, even if all these are always sacrificed on the altar of scholarly philosophy, in accordance with the rites of academic philosophy.
I. Viewpoint and Purpose Our purpose in this outline, in accordance with the title, is to investigate the mutual influence of philosophy and the selfreferential subject dealing with philosophy, approached on the basis of an analysis of phenomenological counselling. Our basic intent is to outline the concept of the phenomenological care of the soul. In a historical perspective, we rely on the ideas of classical German phenomenology (most of all on Edmund Husserl, Max Scheler and Martin Heidegger); and in connection with it, the results of applied phenomenological anthropology and psychology meant to serve life, also written in German (primarily the works of Viktor Emil Frankl). On the borderline of these two different perspectives, we ask the at the same time old and new questions connected to the phenomenological practice of care of the soul, which are in fact nothing else than the questioning of the phenomenological connections of philosophy cultivated as science and lifestyle: What is the phenomenological relationship between scientific philosophy and one perceived as lifestyle, and what kind of existential wisdom does it imply? In other words: How can that self-evident parallel be achieved between scientific phenomenology and the improvement of human life that Edmund Husserl so often refers to? In our paper,1 all these questions serve as preparation for the development of a phenomenological concept and methodology of 1 Sárkány Péter, Filozófiai lélekgondozás: Fenomenológia – egzisztenciaanalitikus logoterápia – filozófiai
praxis. Budapest, 2008.
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II. Unlimited Dialogue: Passion Communicated
care of the soul. The concrete investigations continuously refer to the works of phenomenologists and anthropologists. Of these, Viktor Emil Frankl’s logotherapy and existential analysis of phenomenological inspiration play an outstanding role, the interpretation of which serves a double purpose. On the one hand, it emphasises the points of connection between universal and personal phenomenological practice by revealing the characteristics of “applied” phenomenology. On the other hand, it evaluates the philosophical aspects of Frankl’s works, treated by specialised philosophical and psychological literature only superficially. Our argumentation attempts a simultaneous confutation of two versions of prejudice prevalent in academic circles. One side of this prejudice is represented by philosophers, especially phenomenologists: the psychologist and the psychotherapist deal exclusively with the real I; therefore their research is philosophically irrelevant. The other side of the prejudice is usually represented by psychologists: according to them, philosophy is inadequate for revealing the problems of life; therefore, philosophers do not understand the challenges of life. It is usually wrongly understood criticism towards the psychologism present in phenomenological philosophy which lies behind these prejudices. In reference to this, representatives of these two disciplines too hastily jump to conclusions, neglecting the historical context of the original discussion and the more recent results of the two fields. Irvin D. Yalom, for example, offers great balance and clarifies several connections between psychotherapy and philosophy: he bases his argumentation against the prejudices mentioned on the practice of psychotherapy.
II. An Overview of our Line of Thought Our line of thought can be divided into six points. In the first point, we have a look at possible approaches to the notion of care of the soul. We identify the notion of care of the soul with simultaneous and mutually effective self-reference of philosophy and philosopher; and we emphasise one of its particular versions, the so-called phenomenological practice. 2. In the second point, we analyse classical formulations of the 1.
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central element of phenomenological practice, epokhé, pointing to the particularities of Edmund Husserl’s and Martin Heidegger’s philosophical concerns, which can be contained within a unitary concept as to care of the soul. We describe this unitary concept as the care of thinking. 3. Our third point moves on to the application of phenomenological philosophy, and mostly has a look at the philosophical issues of phenomenological psychotherapy. In this point our line of thought concerns the relationship of phenomenological and personal approaches. 4. In the following fourth point we examine Viktor Emil Frankl’s logotherapy and existential analysis, investigating how Frankl’s medical ministry is connected to anthropology and psychology taken in the sense of phenomenological philosophy. These investigations would primarily reveal the roots of existential analysis connected to Max Scheler, but the comparative approach also sheds light on further aspects of Frankl’s phenomenology. 5. Resting on the results of previous points, the fifth point examines a widespread phenomenon of contemporary philosophical publicity, the so-called philosophical counselling (philosophische Praxis). 6. Finally, in the sixth point we outline the phenomenological idea and methodological possibilities of the care of thinking.
III. Important Results first and most important aim is outlining the unitary concept of phenomenological care of the soul. We attempt to describe a notion of care of the soul capable of organically connecting phenomenological philosophy and phenomenological psychotherapy, concentrating on private life, sketching the relations of content and methodology of the two fields from this perspective. Actually, in order to elaborate the notion of care of the soul, we needed a phenomenological basis from which the therapeutic ambitions of both scholarly endeavours could be derived, and which, if organically combined, could serve as the necessary foundation.
1. Our
A. According to our findings, this phenomenological basis is the practice
of the care of thought, which in phenomenological philosophy and psychotherapy follows the ascetic ideas of classical philosophical tradition.
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The motivation of the care of thought in phenomenological philosophy based on the method of epokhé is the will for theory; and in phenomenological psychotherapy it is the will of meaning. In order to describe the unitary concept and methodology of care of the soul, it is necessary to combine these two seemingly divergent intentions. C. One of our important results is that the care of the soul, thematised on the basis of the idea of the care of thought, can be adequately described neither by classical phenomenological philosophy, nor by psychotherapeutical theory of a phenomenological descent; nor by the philosophical horizon of the relatively new discipline of philosophical counselling (philosophische Praxis). The first disregards the personal practice of epokhé; the second disregards thinking beyond the dimension of privacy. The third, because of its non-phenomenological yet historical and sceptical perspective, only refers to the therapeutic references of philosophy from a historical perspective. It disregards systematic argumentation, with reference to a historical approach. D. The phenomenological practice of our interest rests, on the one hand, on motivation theory (will for meaning), methodology (modulation of approach and de-reflexion), and anthropological results of logotherapy and existential analysis, as one of the psychotherapies of a phenomenological inspiration, with reference to the Platonic therapeutic tradition of classical philosophy. On the other hand, however, it makes use of the motivational basis (will for theory and thinking) and methodology (epokhé and destruction) unfolding from theoretical practice (Edmund Husserl) and the connections of the philosophy of care (Martin Heidegger) of phenomenological philosophy. E. From a systematic viewpoint, we make a distinction between two levels of phenomenological psychotherapy. One is phenomenological logotherapy, which achieves rupture from reality by the practice of the care of thinking. This is a value- and reason-oriented ascesis of life, which is methodologically the result of a de-reflexive modulation of approach. Here we apply two Magyar (Hungarian) terms differing only in a single letter, both meaning thinking: gondolkozás and gondolkodás. In order to emphasise the difference in meaning with which we invest these two terms, in English we applied the terms thinking (for gondolkozás) and thought (for gondolkodás). It is on this level that an actual phenomenological practice B.
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Introduction
can be built, termed the care of thought, which suspends thinking connected to the all-time approach. This is the thinking-oriented ascesis of life, which is the mutual result of the universal and personal epokhé present in phenomenological practice. F. Care of the soul as intrapersonal and interpersonal practice can be outlined on the basis of Socratic dialogue and reduction. This kind of understanding of philosophy is capable of simultaneously validating the thought directed to the knowledge and improvement of the world. 2. Our
other aim is only partly subordinated to the first one: it is a philosophical evaluation of Viktor Emil Frankl’s work. The results thereof have significantly influenced our standpoint on the phenomenological practice of care of the soul. In the following, we enlist the most important findings of our fourth mentioned point: A. Frankl’s work is detailed from a philosophical point of view, primarily with regard to phenomenological connections. One of our basic statements is that the philosophical interpretation of logotherapy and existential analysis does not only fill a gap in the literature of philosophy, but at the same time sheds new light on existential philosophical thinking as a whole. B. Logotherapy and existential analysis can primarily be connected to, and for the most part philosophically deduced from, Max Scheler’s anthropology and ethics, even if logotherapy and existential analysis as theory and practice of psychotherapy cannot be regarded merely as direct applications of Max Scheler’s philosophy. C. In a phenomenological approach, several insights of Frankl’s work may serve as starting points for further analyses. Such are, for example, the questions of the meaning of life and the phenomenology of the experience of meaning in general, as well as the conception of the intellectual dimension outlined in the concept of responsibility. These insights have great significance for phenomenological anthropology and ethics. D. The medical horizon of logotherapy and existential analysis is grounded in a concept of philosophy understood as existential philosophy. Thus, the medical ministry that Frankl sets forth is actually based on a kind of philosophical ministry. In our understanding, therefore, logotherapy can be perceived and practiced as a kind of philosophical counselling. The philosophical idea of care of the soul is very much alive in
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phenomenological thinking. It represents, within the contemporary trends of philosophy and psychology, the previously mentioned therapeutic ambitions of philosophy, which date back to ancient Greek philosophy. Its hallmarks are criticism towards the naturalism of the Platonic tradition, as well as affirmation of one’s intellectual dimension. Our investigations offer a kind of philosophical cross-section of these issues, as well as a possible outline of the methodology of the phenomenological care of the soul.
Patricia Blocksome
The Birth, Death and Resurrection of Theatre: Religion’s Cyclical Relationship with the Stage
What is a wife and what is a harlot? What is a church and what is a theatre? Are they two and not one? Can they exist separate? Are not religion and politics the same thing? Brotherhood is religion. O demonstrations of reason dividing families in cruelty and pride!1
Religion and theatre, though currently separated, marked off through ‘demonstrations of reason’, share a multitude of similarities, and these similarities are more than coincidence. Yet, though the historically religious roots of several theatrical traditions are known, the theatre is and has been often attacked as an immoral influence by various religious majorities. The Sturm und Drang of complex and shifting relationships between the spiritual and the theatrical provides insight not only into the birth of theatre but also its death and resurrection.
1 Blake William, The Complete Poetry and Prose. Berkeley, 1982. 207.
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phenomenological thinking. It represents, within the contemporary trends of philosophy and psychology, the previously mentioned therapeutic ambitions of philosophy, which date back to ancient Greek philosophy. Its hallmarks are criticism towards the naturalism of the Platonic tradition, as well as affirmation of one’s intellectual dimension. Our investigations offer a kind of philosophical cross-section of these issues, as well as a possible outline of the methodology of the phenomenological care of the soul.
Patricia Blocksome
The Birth, Death and Resurrection of Theatre: Religion’s Cyclical Relationship with the Stage
What is a wife and what is a harlot? What is a church and what is a theatre? Are they two and not one? Can they exist separate? Are not religion and politics the same thing? Brotherhood is religion. O demonstrations of reason dividing families in cruelty and pride!1
Religion and theatre, though currently separated, marked off through ‘demonstrations of reason’, share a multitude of similarities, and these similarities are more than coincidence. Yet, though the historically religious roots of several theatrical traditions are known, the theatre is and has been often attacked as an immoral influence by various religious majorities. The Sturm und Drang of complex and shifting relationships between the spiritual and the theatrical provides insight not only into the birth of theatre but also its death and resurrection.
1 Blake William, The Complete Poetry and Prose. Berkeley, 1982. 207.
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I. An Embarrassment of Coincidence What is a church and what is a theatre? There are several elements of religion in theatre, and vice versa. Religion is defined as the “service and worship of God or the supernatural […], commitment or devotion to religious faith or observance […], a personal set or institutionalised system of religious attitudes, beliefs and practices.”2 Looking at all of these diverse definitions for religion, let us see if theatre can encompass them. For starters, let us replace the word religion with that of theatre, and with a few minor changes, use the same definition. Thus, theatre is the service and worship of God or the supernatural, commitment or devotion to a faith or observance of a ritual, an institutionalised system of religious or supernatural attitudes, beliefs, and practices. It fits rather well. The theatre can even be considered a form of religion. People go to the theatre to be taken to a different plane of being, to experience something that will move them intellectually or emotionally. The audience agrees to accept what is presented as revelatory of the truth, no matter how far from scientific, rational truth the production may be. There is instead a belief in a higher truth, to be revealed by those intermediaries chosen for the task – the actors and the crew. If theatre is a religion, does the syllogism hold true as well? Peter Brook provides a very basic definition of theatre: “I can take any empty space and call it a bare stage. A man walks across this empty space whilst someone else is watching him, and this is all that is needed for an act of theatre to be engaged.”3 Thus, the elements of theatre are a space; a performer; and an observer. Going beyond this very basic classification, though, what does theatre imply? Theatre can further be defined as a space set apart for the performance of a story-ritual, with the understanding of both primary/active and passive/observer participants in the ritual that a meta-reality is to be created. David Mamet, a playwright, offers the following comparison between religion and theatre in his book Three Uses of the Knife: “Religion offers the cleansing mechanism of confession: the Roman Catholic confessional, the Jewish Day of Atonement, the Baptist Testimony. Twelve-step programs are built upon, and proceed from the confession of powerlessness. In all of these we lay our burden down – or we are offered that choice. (…) And we have created the op-
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portunity to face our nature, to face our deeds, to face our lies in the Drama.”4 In Mamet’s opinion, theatre serves the exact same functional role as religion, as that of a place of confession of weakness and enlightenment. Such a duality between the nature of religion and that of theatre should not come as a surprise, given the historical beginnings of the theatrical tradition.
II. Evolution from Religion to Theatre The generally accepted theory on the origins of theatre is that theatre evolved from worship of the gods – whatever gods they might be. Margot Berthold, discussing the development of drama in Sumer, remarks: the divine sagas were all “composed during the period when the image of the Sumerian gods became humanised, not so much in their outward appearance as in their supposed emotions. This criterion is crucial in a civilization: it is the fork in the road where the way to theatre branches off. For the drama develops from the conflict symbolised in the concept of gods transposed into human psychology.”5 From India, M. L. Varadpande is even more explicit about the process: “The explanatory myths generated by the rituals provided the theme for stage enactment. In the frenzied movement of the ritual performer the art of dancing originated. The gesture adopted by the priests helped the formulation of a code of acting for the stage. The priest who acted as a medium of communication with the spirit probably created the form of verbal exchange called dialogue. Other accessories like masks, make-up and singing are common to ritual and the theatre. Primitive religion and its system of rituals gave the dramatic art many necessary ingredients to evolve itself into a separate entity.”6 Through the world over, religion has birthed theatre, though that same religion may later view theatre as a sort of bastard-child or demonic offspring. After the fall of Rome, for the next fifteen centuries the “Church denied actors the right to receive the sacraments, nor could they be buried in consecrated ground.”7 This is the same Church that would later, after those fifteen centuries, be responsible for the rebirth of theatre, which led to the re-creation of the professional actor. 4 Mamet David, Three Uses of the Knife. New York, 2000. 78–79.
2 Religion. In Merriam-Webster Online. http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/religion.
5 Freund Philip, The Birth of Theatre. London, 2003. 38.
3 Brook Peter, The Empty Space. New York, 1996. 9.
6 Varadpande M. L., Religion and Theatre. Atlantic Highlands, 1983. 2. 7 Freund Philip, The Birth of Theatre. London, 2003. 780.
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Though there is a very murky transition from religious activity to formalised ritual to religio-theatrical endeavours, attempting to pinpoint this transition is probably impossible due to the limited historical records available, as well as because in a number of theatrical traditions the birth of sacred theatre was pre-literate. What is more important than a precise point of evolution is the understanding that the formation of proto-theatre was in multiple – and arguably all – societies a product of organised religious activity. The shift from proto-theatre to theatre as a separate – though related – entity is also one of gradual evolution. Again, primary source documents are scarce, but an interesting case study can be provided by looking at a resurrection of the theatrical tradition during an age closer to our own: that of Western Europe from roughly 500–1500. “Following the disintegration of the Roman Empire, organized theatrical activities had virtually disappeared in Western Europe as conditions returned to a state similar to the period that preceded the emergence of drama in the sixth century BC.”8 During this period of disintegration, proto-theatrical activity was limited, but did exist in a few forms. There were roving troupes of entertainers (jugglers and tumblers) that were regarded as immoral by the Church. Teutonic bards, once honoured as tribal historians, were also condemned by the Church. Festivals, the remnants of pagan rituals, were still widely held and attended. Finally, the new religion of Christianity was expanding and consolidating power. Part of this consolidation was the creation and codification of accepted religious ritual. It is from this religious ritual that the Christians, in celebrations of the teachings of their God (just as the Greeks in their celebrations of Dionysus), let theatre spring forth again.9 “The earliest traces of the liturgical drama are found in manuscripts dating from the Xth century. Its genesis may perhaps be found in the chant Quem Quæritis (Whom do you seek), a trope to the Introit of the Easter mass. In Regularis Concordia (mid-Xth century), Æthelwold, bishop of Winchester, described in some detail the manner in which the Quem Quæritis trope was performed as a small scene during the Matins service on Easter morning. The dialogue represents the well-known story of the three Marys approaching the tomb of Jesus Christ: “Whom do you seek?” “Jesus of Nazareth.” “He is not here. He has arisen as was prophesied. Go. Announce that he has arisen from the dead.”10 8 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 74. 9 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 74–78. 10 Liturgical Drama. In Encyclopædia Britannica Online. http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/
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The Quem Quæritis led to the cycles of mystery plays – a number of short playlets based on Biblical stories. These in turn led to morality plays, which were not based on Biblical stories, but were still created with the intent of religious edification – truth revealed by fictitious stories.11 “Before the end of the fourteenth century, the production of plays had in most places passed out of the control of the Church, although the scripts were still acceptable to Church officials and were performed at religious festivals.”12 Again, as in the above discussion on the birth of theatre, as the theatrical events grew in popularity, the religious organisation which had inaugurated them gradually lost possession of both the creation and presentation of the dramas. For our case study, let us compare four texts, each located at a different point in the evolutionary re-birth of theatre in Western Europe. The texts under consideration are the Quem Quæritis Easter Trope; Noah’s Flood from the Chester cycle of mystery plays; Everyman, a full-length morality play; and Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe. The Quem Quæritis trope is all of three lines of dialogue: “This text, found in the introductory portion of the Easter Mass, was probably merely antiphonal (that is, sung responsively by two groups) and probably did not involve actors impersonating the characters.”13 So the first stage of our religious-theatrical tradition is simply an expanded bit of ritual, smoothly infiltrating a religious ceremony. Noah’s Flood is a playlet, and here the greatest jump is made. Mystery playlets were usually presented in cycles and performed outside, so from the time of the Quem Quæritis to Noah’s Flood, the anonymous playwrights had moved from a chorus singing dialogue to specific actors speaking lines. Furthermore, the playlet was outside of the church, and though probably first presented as part of Corpus Christi festival activities, was no longer considered part of the church service. The biggest change of all was in the language of the dialogue. Instead of Latin, the language of the clergy, Noah’s Flood was written in the vernacular. Thus, theatre became more accessible to the populace, as it was now in the language of the land, and set design was freed from the constraints of working within a church.14 The next stage in our evolution is the play Everyman, a play that
discusses moral issues.15 This is a full-length play, and though containing a strong religious theme, it is not based on a Biblical story. It is for this reason that it is the next stage in our progression. Everyman is the starting point of secular drama. This is not to say that this play does not contain Christian attitudes; that would be patently false, as God is a character, Who opens the play with a monologue calling for Death to seek out Everyman, as his time on Earth has come to an end. But the “moralities mark a movement away from Biblical characters and events to ordinary humans in their everyday surroundings. Consequently, they paved the way for the great secular plays of the succeeding period.”16 From Everyman we come to Doctor Faustus, the first British play to have an acknowledged author: Christopher Marlowe.17 Doctor Faustus does contain some reference to Christian beliefs, but it is far more secular than Everyman. Marlowe’s play does contain some allegorical figures, but these are minor characters; all of the major roles are fleshed-out people. Dr Faustus has individual idiosyncrasies and traits, as does Mephistopheles. Furthermore, this play was not performed as part of a religious festival, but instead on the public stage.18 Plays such as this “bridged the gap between the learned and popular audiences. Their successful blending of classical and mediæval devices with compelling stories drawn from many sources dominated the stage.”19 Thus, we can see in the literature of Western Europe the gradual evolution and rebirth of drama. This renaissance of the mediæval Western theatre is all the more intriguing when we remember that it was birthed from the Church – the same Church that had previously refused burial on consecrated ground to actors. This cycling from hatred to espousal does not necessarily seem logical. Yet I propose that it is logical, eminently logical, when you consider the close ties between drama and religion, for numerous religious practices embrace the idea of a cyclical paradigm.
11 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 76–99.
16 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 99.
12 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 84.
17 Marlowe Christopher, Doctor Faustus. New York, 1969.
13 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 76.
18 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 110.
14 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 82–83.
19 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 111.
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15 Ward Candace (ed.), Everyman and other Miracle and Morality Plays. New York, 1995.
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III. The Resurrection Cycle of Theatre James Frazer in The New Golden Bough proposed the idea of the ‘year-god’ as the Platonic ideal form of a god as reverse-engineered from an exhaustive study of different religious traditions from around the world. This year-god is a god that follows the seasons: is re-born each spring, matures in summer, and decays in fall and dies in winter, only to be re-born once again. Frazer argues that it is this seasonal cycle unique to Earth that influences the religious practices of the peoples thereof.20 So religion and theatre are intimately intertwined. If theatre then is indeed the offspring of religion, could it not be possible that theatre in some form inherited the DNA of its parent, and just as religion celebrates the cycle of death and rebirth, so does the theatre? Based on the two sets of historical data – that of the birth of theatre worldwide, and that of the rebirth of theatre in Western Europe – I propose the following hypothesis: that theatre, inextricably tied to a mothering religion, goes though its own resurrective cycle, of which there are seven phases. First, ongoing religious activity codifies into ritual; then ritualised religious storytelling evolves into religious theatre; religious theatre transforms into secular-religious theatre; secular-religious theatre becomes independent from ongoing religious activity; secular theatre breaks entirely with sponsoring religion and is typically then denounced by religion as immoral; theatre ties back into a new or ongoing religious or belief system (return to phase 3) – or theatre devolves from the religious mysteries, beliefs and myths, and becomes banal and dispensable to the populace (continue to phase 7); and finally, theatre dies or degenerates into proto-theatrical activity (return to phase 1). The seven phases are distinguishable in both the Grecian and Western European births of theatre. In the ‘classic’ Western tradition of Greek-based theatre, the phases would be as follows (dates are approximate): First, a Greek deity, Dionysus, has festivals which start to contain dramatisations (none of which are extant, but there are records that these plays did exist). These dramatisations have a chorus and one actor (625–575 BC). Second, the Dionysia festival, the largest of four Greek festivals in the god’s honour, expands on the dramatisations; one playwright,
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Æschylus, adds a second actor in plays such as Agamemnon (525– 450 BC). Third, the playwright Euripides’ characters “often questioned the gods’ sense of justice, since they seemed sources of misery as often as of happiness. At times, Euripides suggested that chance rules the world, and that human beings are more concerned with moral values than are the gods.”21 The theatre, though still associated with Dionysus, has begun to question its religious basis (440–400 BC). Forth, after the Peloponnesian War, the newer Greek writers start emphasising melodrama and sensationalism; actors become professional (350–300 BC). Fifth, during the fourth century (400–200 BC), “Greek thought became increasingly secularised. Religious worship and festivals continued, but belief in their efficacy was seriously undermined by the intellectual scrutiny to which the gods and myths were subjected.”22 Sixth, a new form of Greek theatre, new comedy, increases in popularity as tragedy declines. This new form is banal, dealing with neither issues of myth nor religion, but instead relying on formulaic plots (350–150 BC). Seventh, Greece becomes a province of Rome (146 BC), and the majority of theatrical activity moves to Rome. Roman drama tends to emphasise variety entertainment – proto-theatre – though some plays are still produced. With the conversion of Constantine to Christianity (313), the Church starts persecuting theatrical professionals. The glory of Greek theatre dies.23 In the mediæval Western European theatre, the phases would be as follows: first, the Church expands and consolidates power from the end of the Roman Empire and through the early Middle Ages. During this time, codification of the Roman Catholic Mass and other rites of the Church starts the growth of Christian ritual (400-900). Second, the beginnings of religious theatre appear in church services, coming from the tropes (sung phrases or verses) (900–1200). The Quem Quæritis Easter Trope was innovative in that it was sung back and forth by two different groups in the chorus. Liturgical dramas based on stories from the Bible evolve from the tropes. Third, gradually, as these liturgical dramas increase in complexity, they are moved outside the church and start to be presented in cycles, usually in honour of some festival or feast day of the Church 21 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 16. 22 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 36.
20 Frazer James, The New Golden Bough. New York, 1959. 223–370.
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23 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 11–71.
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(1200–1350). The responsibility for presenting the cycles, containing playlets such as Noah’s Flood, changes hands from the church to various guilds. No authorship is given of these dramas; the glory is to go to god, not humans. The playlets are now written and performed in the vernacular, making them more accessible to the general public. Fourth, morality plays such as Everyman break the tradition of using the Bible as basis for story; works may now use allegorical figures to emphasize plots that, though influenced by the Church, do not specifically come from the Bible (1300–1500). The length of the scripts expands, and one play may now be presented by itself, rather than being in a cycle with many others. Though the Church still retains the power to disallow certain plays, that power is waning, and production of the plays is solely in secular control. Fifth, plays become produced professionally, and actors become professional (1500–1625). The Church loses the ability to ban theatre, and secular theatres, though they may present a play based on religious ideas such as Dr Faustus, may also present works containing elements of which the Church disapproves: take for example William Shakespeare’s Macbeth, with its focus on witchcraft. Also, for the first time the authorship of playwrights begins and becomes common. Sixth, during the reign of James I, “tragicomedies, with their contrived happy endings for otherwise serious plays, were increasing popular, encouraging the pathetic or sensational as substitutes for the more genuinely tragic emotions. Thrills and excitement took precedence over significant insights or complex characterizations.”24 A play of this period is ’Tis a Pity She’s a Whore, in which incest is given a sympathetic viewing (1610–1642). Seventh, in England, civil war breaks out (1642). The Puritans (a Christian movement), opposing the rule of royalty, also opposed the theatre both for its association with royalty and because of the immoral content of the plays. The Puritans win the civil war, and theatre is legally abolished.25 Thus, in both Greco-Roman and mediæval European births of theatre, we see the same cycle occur. Theatre is born of religion, seeks separation in maturity, and is eventually destroyed as that maturity gradually makes theatre antithetical to the religious beliefs of the majority. If this hypothesis is indeed true, then two points of interest from the resurrection cycle deserve further interest: the death and life of the theatre.
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IV. On the Death and Life of Drama What happens to make theatre die? It does not always do so, even if it does languish. What is key is phase six, in which there are two options for the theatre: to return to a belief – not necessarily the original sponsoring religion – or to purse a course towards the banal and petty. It is not always the case that the course of theatre in a specific region pursues a course of destruction. Though an example was not provided above, at times theatre can be re-invigorated after becoming secular, but before it becomes so antithetical to religious beliefs that it is forced to die. In following this path, it is not simply religious connection that can save a dramatic culture. That cannot be, for there are many plays that do not specifically or even indirectly reference the gods, yet arguably are still vital. It is not the gods, per se, that theatre must have to live. To remain vital, the theatre must contain a sense of revelation of truth, a sense of the mythic, of something vital to the human condition. If the theatre keeps or recaptures that sense, then the theatre will live. Philip Freund, discussing this very issue in Birth of Theatre, talks of a director who is attempting the sixth path: Peter Brook has “undertaken to revitalize ritual, to make the theatre the source of emotional experience that can no longer be provided by a church, which has become respectable and no more than a mild social occasion. But the efficacy of ritual depends on the vitality of the beliefs from which it emerges. It is the desperate search for contents that are still alive, which still have the power to stir an audience.”26 If, however, theatre does follow the sixth phase into degeneration or death, how does that come about? What is necessary to bring about this death or dying-phase of theatre, when drama is no longer seen as a necessary art? It is difficult to say when, exactly, the theatre dies from lack of this élan vital. “If we talk of deadly, let us note that the difference between life and death, so crystal clear in man, is somewhat veiled in other fields. A doctor can tell at once between the trace of life and the useless bag of bones that life has left; but we are less practiced in observing how an idea, an attitude or form can pass from the lively to the moribund.”27 Theatre slides to death when it abandons the revelations of myth26 Freund Philip, The Birth of Theatre. London, 2003. 774.
24 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 113.
27 Brook Peter, The Empty Space. New York, 1996. 11.
25 Brockett Oscar – Franklin Hildy, History of the Theatre. Boston, 2003. 72–135.
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ic truth, following instead a superficial path that provides excellent spectacle but little heart. The audiences that accept such types of theatre are actively encouraging its demise. “When you come to the theatre, you have to be willing to say, ‘We are all here to undergo a communion, to find out what the hell is going on in this world.’ If you are not willing to say that, what you get is entertainment instead of art, and poor entertainment at that.”28 As shown previously, the slide to uninspired drama is a movement that may lead all the way to a death of theatre. And yet, for all of that, it does not seem it is possible to kill off theatre entirely, no matter what governmental or theological imperatives urge their faithful. Though the religion may change, the very essence of religion, with its ritual and emphasis on storytelling, is fertile ground from which a new theatrical tradition may spring. Will the resurrection cycle remain unbroken? Will there ever come a day that theatre will die completely, and religion not be able to resurrect it? Predicting the future is a risky business at best, but I would offer up a quote from Antonin Artaud, a philosopher of the theatre, as defence against that possibility: “So long as we have failed to eliminate any of the causes of human despair, we do not have the right to try to eliminate those means by which man tries to cleanse himself of despair.”29 As long as the world needs mystery or magic or myth or religion to live, drama will not die.
28 Mamet David, Three Uses of the Knife. New York, 2000. 19. 29 Artaud Antonin, Artaud Anthology. San Francisco, 2001. 61–62.
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Jamie Moran
Cleave: The Hebrew Word for Passion I. Cleave to God Because the word passion is so degraded today – confused with ego ambition, sex, bullying, etc. – I also use a lot of other terms which seem cognate with the meaning I want to establish. I have a number of key metaphors and alternate expressions, such as the leap into the unknown, being staked to the ground, and others. I see passion as the key to the Jewish approach to faith in the Old Testament. I now think I have found another word in Hebrew for the Greek passion: this word is cleave. Cleave is a strange and powerful word which turns up in various places and in various ways throughout the Hebrew Bible. A man cleaves to his woman in marriage; the tongue cleaves to the roof of the mouth; tired bones cleave to the skin. But what really grabbed me was that in Deuteronomy, early on in the Old Testament, the text repeatedly says, again and again, cleave to God. Passion is our cleaving to God. I love the very word, cleave. In English, as in Hebrew, this word carries a paradox, a contradiction, a mystery, a secret. For, it means both to join with, and to separate. In fact, more concretely, it means a warm embrace, but yet when we wield a sword, we can cut an opponent’s head in two: we cleave them in half. To cleave is at one and the same time to hold on to and unite with, yet also to rend, to tear into pieces, to divide. Poetically this captures the peculiarity of passion as I have written of it in so many different ways. To cleave is to love, yet this very love contains a sacred violence, a fight, a separating. Cleave is
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ic truth, following instead a superficial path that provides excellent spectacle but little heart. The audiences that accept such types of theatre are actively encouraging its demise. “When you come to the theatre, you have to be willing to say, ‘We are all here to undergo a communion, to find out what the hell is going on in this world.’ If you are not willing to say that, what you get is entertainment instead of art, and poor entertainment at that.”28 As shown previously, the slide to uninspired drama is a movement that may lead all the way to a death of theatre. And yet, for all of that, it does not seem it is possible to kill off theatre entirely, no matter what governmental or theological imperatives urge their faithful. Though the religion may change, the very essence of religion, with its ritual and emphasis on storytelling, is fertile ground from which a new theatrical tradition may spring. Will the resurrection cycle remain unbroken? Will there ever come a day that theatre will die completely, and religion not be able to resurrect it? Predicting the future is a risky business at best, but I would offer up a quote from Antonin Artaud, a philosopher of the theatre, as defence against that possibility: “So long as we have failed to eliminate any of the causes of human despair, we do not have the right to try to eliminate those means by which man tries to cleanse himself of despair.”29 As long as the world needs mystery or magic or myth or religion to live, drama will not die.
28 Mamet David, Three Uses of the Knife. New York, 2000. 19. 29 Artaud Antonin, Artaud Anthology. San Francisco, 2001. 61–62.
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Cleave: The Hebrew Word for Passion I. Cleave to God Because the word passion is so degraded today – confused with ego ambition, sex, bullying, etc. – I also use a lot of other terms which seem cognate with the meaning I want to establish. I have a number of key metaphors and alternate expressions, such as the leap into the unknown, being staked to the ground, and others. I see passion as the key to the Jewish approach to faith in the Old Testament. I now think I have found another word in Hebrew for the Greek passion: this word is cleave. Cleave is a strange and powerful word which turns up in various places and in various ways throughout the Hebrew Bible. A man cleaves to his woman in marriage; the tongue cleaves to the roof of the mouth; tired bones cleave to the skin. But what really grabbed me was that in Deuteronomy, early on in the Old Testament, the text repeatedly says, again and again, cleave to God. Passion is our cleaving to God. I love the very word, cleave. In English, as in Hebrew, this word carries a paradox, a contradiction, a mystery, a secret. For, it means both to join with, and to separate. In fact, more concretely, it means a warm embrace, but yet when we wield a sword, we can cut an opponent’s head in two: we cleave them in half. To cleave is at one and the same time to hold on to and unite with, yet also to rend, to tear into pieces, to divide. Poetically this captures the peculiarity of passion as I have written of it in so many different ways. To cleave is to love, yet this very love contains a sacred violence, a fight, a separating. Cleave is
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not cognate with the Greek agape; I believe agape is the crown of Eros, its compassion, its philanthropy, its benevolent charity. Cleave, by contrast, is the dragon of the Dæmonic: it is the koan of fire, divine and human. Without cleaving, we cannot face and come through the wound of existence, as my passion book names all the existential exactions that befall us as a fate. The Greek for passion, pathos, carries this connotation of being put in a room of no exit, where the alternatives disappear, and it all comes down to only a very few, but immensely powerful, moves you can make on the rim. In Greek, passion is what you suffer, inescapably. It is not so obvious in Greek that this suffering can generate the ultimate ardour of advocacy for the human, the most zealous and unrelenting fighting spirit, or thymos. But the Hebrew cleave is more strong in both its passive acceptance of what cannot be changed, and in its weirdly and inexplicably active way of meeting that, of staying with that, of wrestling that, and coming through that. This is where the sense of violence comes in to cleaving – as in the Biblical statement (Matthew 11,12) that “the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force”. It punches through. By accepting the unacceptable, it knocks down and punches through existential walls, it strides into and crosses existential gaps, that simply cannot be knocked down or crossed except by the power of this kind of passion. It is this passion that God encouraged in Israel – unlike the Greeks, who, though they recognised the Dæmonic wound of fate and the suffering passion it sparked, as in Flamenco music’s deep song or duende, nevertheless gradually turned against all passion per se, for the sake of light, transcendence, joy, freedom, unassailable knowledge of spirit. The Dæmonic was rejected in favour of Eros; the divine dark that indwells the dark of existence, the realm of Spirit, was rejected in favour of the light that brings all potentiality to fruition, the light that loves and heals what comes to light in its gracious and golden embrace, the realm of Logos. The Jewish cleaving does not make this flight from the Dæmonic, but violently embraces its violence, not only being cut to shreds by it, but cutting through it to reach a far shore otherwise not reachable. This is passionateness of heart, and for the Jews the whole span of its holy mystery, from primitive beginnings to increasing existential sophistication, is summed up in this word cleave to God, and cleave to this world in its redeemability. Without the increasingly deeper cleaving that is deepened passion, the human being does not arrive
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at holiness, and stands outside the most wonderful and horrendous mystery in existence, the wisdom of heart: the wisdom of God at stake in the blood, sweat and tears of this world. The hidden God, and the hidden wisdom, are only flushed out of their place of hiding, are only dug out, through the cleaving that is passion’s free and loving embrace of existence’s wound. Kierkegaard’s understanding of passion as necessary to existing brings his account close to the Biblical cleaving. A quote I found recently says something along these lines: we need passion to exist – and if you do not realize this, you just do not understand what it means to exist – in which case, you are not really here, but in some head trip to somewhere else: you have left existence in this world. For some people, they go off via fantasies of sex, or wealth, or status; for some they go off on control, power over things, domination; some go off on comfort and luxuriating; some go off on philosophy, theology, ontological structures. We all choose our preferred escape. Without cleaving, we do not have the energy, the muscle, even the motive and intentionality, to stay, to get stuck in, to see it through to the end. Without cleaving, we cannot stand in this world and really take on the terror and beauty of existence in all its existential bite. It is precisely this most irrational and testing reality of existence that hides within the depth of its existential predicament the entire wisdom of God; this is what can become the wisdom of God united with the wisdom of humanity in the travails, the struggles and raptures, of the deep passion of heart. Failing this, cleaving has no point. To cleave is an action, and it implies a sticking to it and sticking with it that is key to passion. In the Orthodox church recently I heard another phrase, from the Acts of the Apostles, that is also relevant here. The author refers to the fervour of spirit. Passion is the fervour of our spirit; but what could impassion such fervour, if it were not the Spirit? The passionate are not Logos people; they are Pneuma or Spirit people. The Spirit becomes the only help for those who risk the way of passion. And as Fyodor Dostoyevsky prophesied, in the future the Spirit will speak to and act directly on people through their passion of deep heart. This will disempower the Church as an external structure, and perhaps open up a space for it to find a new role and new mode of being, to do a necessary job, but without what surrounds that now. Putting the two phrases together, cleaving and fervour of spirit, you get this: those who cleave to God will receive the Spirit. Those who cleave to God will know the Spirit directly in the
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fervour of their spirit, which is the fervour impassioned in their passion of deep heart.
II. Adhering I ran into a plethora of slightly differently nuanced accounts of the Hebrew root meaning of cleave. I found different spellings in English (such as QBDW and BAQA). Yet the range of meanings seems a family of close relatives, rather than strangers. The basic meaning is to adhere. When you adhere to something, you embrace it in a very strong way. The marriage context in Genesis speaks of leaving mother and father in order to cleave to the spouse, and by that cleaving, to become one flesh – or as it was explained by certain Jewish scholars, to become a combined entity, a dual unity, not exactly a single person, but a closeness and intimacy so potent between them that the two persons become as one. This is not Oriental fusion, nor is it Western duality. Whatever we cleave to, be it in marriage, in fighting spirit, or in redeeming the world, passion and its Other remain distinct, yet become as one. They break through to a conjoint, new being. This is beyond oneness or two-ness. It is a state of communing. Martin Buber would call it I–Thou, or maybe that We which emerges from I–Thou as a further stage, its crown. Cleave is always in Hebrew in the masculine, singular, imperfect tense: passion is spiritually masculine, as in Saint Peter’s hidden man of the heart; it is singular, because the impetus for it comes from deep within the unique person, the distinct personhood, the unrepeatable personalness: I cannot give myself to life for you, nor can you do this for me, it is something we must each do ourselves; and it is in the imperfect tense, because it is an action and this action is still incomplete, it is on its way, always travelling, battling, changing, shedding the old for the sake of the new: it has not arrived yet, but it is going, fundamentally on the move. Adhere means to stick to something, and it also means to stick to it, to remain committed, through thick and thin. But there is this other, and much more active and even aggressive, implication to cleaving. Thus it means to break open, or break through. Indeed, to cleave also means to rend open, or even implies a violent cutting into pieces. There is a certain terror associated with cleaving, in the Old English sense of the word terrible. Passion is terrible in this old manner of speaking because it does not relent; it is the hunter who
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cannot be deflected or distracted, seduced or intimidated, off the hunt. It is the warrior whose fight will not submit. Passion carries on, despite, not because of, conditions, circumstances, exigencies. It takes the hit – and gets up, and walks ahead. This aggressivity cuts things in half all right: it not only removes obstacles, which are worldly and spiritual at once, but it hits the wall where most hearts must stop, and it batters this wall until it breaks through. Thus passion separates those who cleave and continue from those who bail out prematurely because they cannot take any more. The cutting edge of cleaving also cuts through delusion, deception, lies. Thus in every respect it does not stop where most people stop. I dreamt of a friend recently, who, in the dream, announces from the depth of their depression: “I am going to flush out God from the place where he is hiding.” The aggressivity in cleaving is, at its most profound, a refusal to be put off by God’s hiddenness, and becomes a fierce determination to break through to where God is hidden in existence. Depression slays all other hopes, dreams, yearnings, of life, so we can seek the one thing needful. God likes to be hidden, but likes even more those not intimidated by the unknown God, the absent God, the defunct bad daddy God who is either off somewhere else enjoying God’s bliss or even if with us cannot do anything effective anyway. On this hunt to dig out God from where God is hidden in the depth of existence, we pass through water and we pass through fire; we enter the dark; we plunge down; we go in over our head; we are stretched to breaking point and beyond. We go into hell, losing all hope. We curse God and die: but we do not. We continue, even though we have lost anything and everything that could comfort us, secularly or religiously. We even let go guilt, blame, condemnation of self or world or God. ‘Cleave to God’ encompasses all this. God loves our violence of quest, and makes it more so, makes it necessary if we are to continue without cashing in the chips. To stay in the game is impossible, as the stakes go up and our losses spiral out of control, but to cleave means being in the game to the end. Many people give in and give up well before the end-game is reached; to cleave is to hang in there, and hang tough, and refuse easier and safer and reassuring substitutes. In the end we hunger only for the reality, and the truth that relates us to reality. In the end we are naked, and want nothing except the unvarnished reality and its truth, however hard, however costly, however heavy a weight to carry. This is where cleave acquires its double sense of a love that not only warmly embraces reality, but separates reality from illusions,
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in the ultimate; and not only warmly embraces truth, but separates truth from lies, in the ultimate. A person who cleaves to God is a lover of reality and a lover of truth: such a person is not fooled by, drawn to, or in any way a lover of, illusions and lies. When you cleave to what is what, you come to see and appreciate how what is not what kills existence in all its facets. Even in our fear of God – which in Hebrew means not something frightening or terrifying, but does suggest holy terror, awe, respect, reverence – we should begin to understand that the Dæmonic is serious, not messing about, and that if we enter the Dæmonic way of loving, the way of fire and earth, the way of suffering, the way of dark, the way of sacrifice, then this will subject us to the terribleness of God, which is at the same time the terribleness of love. It is a terrible thing to fall into the hands of the living God; but all existence is in these hands, and risking and suffering and venturing this in order to find God in existence is much more terrible. It is not pap for infants. It is not the rules and regulations, the well marked paths, of conservatives. It is not the sloppiness and timidity and indifference of liberals. It is serious. To be a lover of God, to be a lover of this world in its redeemability, and to vow to find God in the place in the existential paradox and predicament where God is hiding, is terrible; but such is cleaving. Its flame is warm, but this flame is also terrible. The burning that ignites through cleaving is zealous and fervent, not simply warmly generous with loving-kindness. To cleave is to fight for something, and to fight for something is to be separated from it, yet refuse to allow that separation to become final. In marriage we are separated, yet fighting to become united. In the fight for the world, in the fight for redemption – not transcendence – of existence, we are separated from redemption’s eighth day of completion, but travelling toward it, battling to reach it, struggling to make it real, and sacrificing our all to make it truth. Such is the warmth and burning of the flame kindled in our cleaving.
III. Cleaver, not Believer But I discovered another amazing theme: when people speak so often in English of believing in God, they are misspeaking, and misunderstanding what they are saying. To cleave to God actually means to trust God, as an unknown and hidden reality and truth, as a sought-for but not yet found mystery; to cleave to God means to have faith in, to rely on, and to depend on, this Great Mystery.
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Now, the vital point: where the English Biblical text speaks of believe, the equivalent Greek Biblical text uses pisteuo; and this verb is much closer to cleave, with all its risk-taking and personal faith, trust, relying on, depending on. In effect, we should stop speaking of ourselves, or others, as believers, because what this really means even in Greek, and much more so in Hebrew, is that we are all cleavers. We are cleaving to a mystery, we are adhering to it, and as it is cutting through us we are cutting through it, to reach a far shore, to break open and break through to a new land of heart. For where is God hidden in existence? God is hidden in the deeps of existence, and that means God is hidden in the deeps of the heart. When we cleave, we go through hells, pits, voids, of God’s absence. In these times and places, we are in strange terrain, and belief in any creedal sense does not help us in such a situation. It is in some ways a shame that the early Christians thought they needed a creed in words: I believe in this, that, the other. This is Greek, not Jewish; cleaving is existential, not doctrinal. As Martin Buber puts it, you do not cleave to your idea of God [a statement ‘about’ God], you cleave only to God; nor do you even cleave to your relationship with God, because you do not cleave to a relationship, you cleave only to God. The cleaving is the relationship; and however much you try to state, or think, its mystery, the mystery is itself existentially challenging, it causes us “black inexplicable pain” in Federico Garcia Lorca’s words, and the mystery eludes all words and all thoughts. It is found, understood, its wisdom dug up, only in a living way in the throes and in the thick of the existential problem itself. The Jewish cleave means, ‘go through this, be in it, weep, curse, cry out, let deep call to deep’: this is faith. Your dogmas and doctrines are existentially dangerous, because they encourage people to flee the existential cauldron and take refuge in the words and thoughts which try to express mystery but still are not, and never can be, the living mystery. Nothing replaces the black inexplicable pain of living in the predicament, where we must lose or find this mystery, search and hunt for this mystery or give up on it, and by virtue of that, give up on our own personal heart and give up on humanity’s heart in the world. Equally, when in John 11,25, we read Christ saying: “Whoever believes in me, although he may die, yet shall he live”, we should know that rendering the English as ‘whoever believes in me’ is fundamentally misleading. Belief in this case suggests assent to a creed with our head, or emotion; assent to dogmatic or doctrinal
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propositions. But this is not what Christ is saying. Christ is saying: whoever cleaves to the Christ in the deeps, where all is lost, will come through to the other side. I know many anti-religious believers, who are, despite that – or indeed because of that – cleaving to God, and even cleaving to Christ, in the dark and difficult deep place, where real passion is afflicted, stricken, hurt, broken, yet at the same time, forged, destroyed and reborn, its mettle and steel purged and honed and raised to fiery life. Belief in God means cleaving to God in the midst of the absurdity of existence, and in the midst of all that destroys us and God and world. All hope in life, all hope in secular things and all hope in religious things is burnt up, lost to the deeps, swept away or burnt up in the unknownness, the hiddenness, the mystery of God. Yet we go on. Yet we proceed. Yet we will not turn back. This is cleaving. It is irrational; yet something equally irrational on God’s side summons us, calls to us, pulls us along. This points to another meaning of cleave I discovered on my trawling: when we humans cleave to God, there is a sense of a more dependent being leaning on a more firm being. The old hymn, Rock of Ages, invites the cleaver to lean on God. Israel was invited to do this towards God. Christ speaks in this same vein when offering to carry our yoke with us: not that He will carry it for us, but He will conjointly carry it with us. The weaker can lean on the stronger, and by this gradually assimilate their strength, and the properties and attributes of steadfastness, enduring and undergoing, and most powerful of all, bearing up. This means that cleaving is not only a personal action of heart: passion is what the heart does, not just its muscle and energy, but its deed; cleaving is also a trust and faith in, a leaning and depending on, a personal God who ‘gives God’s personal word’. This is already evident in the Biblical cleaving of marriage: you pledge your troth, you give your word to be real, to be serious, to be committed, about the impossible task of the two becoming as one. Similarly, a warrior makes a vow, which promises him to the fight. This is where cleaving and believing are so different: believing is shallow, you can do it with your head or with your emotion, while cleaving is deep, you can only do it with your deepened, suffering and struggling, ventured, risked, weight-carrying, heart. Believing and cleaving are on different levels entirely: believing is abstract and theoretical, but cleaving is existentially concrete and actual. You remain within your comfort boundary when you believe. You put yourself on the line when you cleave.
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I know only a very few people who believe and cleave. I know many people who believe and do not cleave. I know even more people who do not, and will never, believe, but who cleave. You will only know which of these three you are if you examine your heart. Do you use religion to skate over the existential deeps, where God is hidden, or have you let these deeps wound you, so that you might die in them-- or find in this very dying the leverage, the spark, from which to launch your search for the one thing needful, your search for the unknown and hidden God, right in the midst of existence in this world? The believer can be cool, calm and collected. The person of cleaving has terrible ups and downs, weeps bitter tears, knows the heartbreak of God absent from the human heart, and the human heart absent from itself, in all the world. Believing in the bright Christ of dogma and doctrine is not the same as cleaving to the dark Christ who is in the deeps where all human beings are lost. The person whose life is cleaving will seek and search, hunt and track, fight and wrestle and struggle, to dig up the heart of God from the place where it is hidden in the heart of each person and in the heart of all the world. The person whose life is cleaving will find the heart of God, and by this, find their own heart and find the heart in all the world.
IV. Truthfulness To cleave is passion: it points to a strong love, whose commitment is personally trothed, pledged, vowed, promised, and by putting up with all the cuts that come through this immersion and plunge into existence, cuts through. There is a lot of guff, waffle, flim-flam, as well as all the poison, to cut through. If you cleave, you are cut by God, and this enables you cut through yourself and cut through the world. Such is the black of suffering and the red of fighting spirit in passion. Cleaving therefore also carries the connotation not only of making a vow, and promising yourself to the ‘whole damn thing, no matter what’, but also of this commitment being manifested in an increasingly hard-fought and hard-won loyalty, fidelity or faithfulness, all of which can be summed up as truthfulness. Be strong, we say in the Cante Tinze; but we could as well be saying, be true.
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God has, to an extent we do not understand, because we have not broken through to its reality, truth, wisdom, in the heart, already cleaved to us. God has pledged God’s troth, vowed and promised Godself, been loyal, faithful, true, to us, no matter what. This is the significance of the deeds God performed in the Old Testament to encourage the Jews. God cleaved the Red Sea to let them through, to escape Egypt (Psalm 74,15); God cleaved the rock in the desert to give them water as they traversed the lost place looking for the new land (Psalm 78,15). Many people misconstrue these events of divine providence. They do not mean we will not, in leaving Egypt, be dumped in the vast desert before we can reach the Promised Land: this promised land is a new land of heart we will share with God, when God’s heart is found, our heart is found, the world’s heart is found. It is not yet. But it is what both the old and new covenants are pledged to. This is what it was always about. These events of divine providence, or divine wisdom, weaving into the story of existence lived out on the ground, occur for one reason: not to promote naïve, facile, escapist hope, but to tell us something more fundamental, something we sense, but which God occasionally comes out of hiding to reveal. This is that we are not asked, and not inspired, to cleave to a God who is not cleaving to us. We cleave to God, because before we were forged in the furnace of passion, he cleaved to us. Those who cleave will find the heart of God, their own heart, the heart of the world, because in cleaving to us, God is determined to find our heart and the heart of the world.
V. A New Land Job’s repentance, this cleaving to God in the absurdity of existence is the deepest passion, and brings us through a door that otherwise never opens to a new land of heart. Passion is cleaving to God, no matter what; and through that, we come to cleave to the world in its redeemability, no matter what. When we go far enough in passion, these two things become the same. It is all about one thing only: a new land of heart. It is not yet, but it is coming. Cleaving is passion, because what it relies on, in its courage and vulnerability, is the not yet.
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It means, in the heart, ‘your word is good enough’. Here, in the end, Logos and Spirit converge. Logos makes the promise, Spirit brings it to pass, in and through the very agony that most threatens its loss. This is why, in the end and at the deepest, there is no goal, no point, no justification, for cleaving. It resists all explanation, theological, psychological and scientific. Cleaving cleaves in order to cleave. This is sufficient. To say more, now, would be cheating. And cleaving is the only honest thing in existence.
Rebecca Blocksome
Ut Pictura Poesis: Word and Image in Early Modernism W. J. T. Mitchell, in his book Iconology, dissects the ut pictura poesis tradition in art criticism, which attempts to find points of similarity between painting and poetry – points of contact or transference between the two arts. Taken at face value, it seems like a slightly perverse pastime, since in general painting and poetry – or in a larger frame of reference, words and images – superficially have many more differences than they do similarities. In fact, they are often regarded as two entities in opposition to each other, each one laying claim to a particular territory: painting to the natural world, space and vision; poetry to the world of ideas, time and audition.1 Mitchell goes on to argue that this is an artificial dichotomy; there is no essential difference between text and image,2 and in fact works of art which incorporate aspects of both texts and images are the rule, not the exception3. Further, he identifies two periods where the borders between art and language were especially porous: XVIIIth-century romanticism, and XXth-century modernism. Both these statements directly contradict conventional wisdom, which alleges that modernism in particular aggressively tried to eliminate any connection with the literary world. This argument has been expressed by, among others, Rosalind Krauss: “Surfacing in prewar cubist painting and subsequently becoming ever more stringent and manifest, the grid announces, among other things, modern art’s will to silence, its hostility to literature, to narrative, to discourse. As such, the grid has done its job with striking efficiency. The barrier it has lowered between the arts of vision and those of language has been almost totally successful in walling the visual arts into a realm 1 Mitchell W. J. T., Iconology: Image, Text, Ideology. Chicago, 1986. 47–48. 2 Mitchell W. J. T., Iconology: Image, Text, Ideology. Chicago, 1986. 49.
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3 Mitchell W. J. T., Iconology: Image, Text, Ideology. Chicago, 1986. 155.
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It means, in the heart, ‘your word is good enough’. Here, in the end, Logos and Spirit converge. Logos makes the promise, Spirit brings it to pass, in and through the very agony that most threatens its loss. This is why, in the end and at the deepest, there is no goal, no point, no justification, for cleaving. It resists all explanation, theological, psychological and scientific. Cleaving cleaves in order to cleave. This is sufficient. To say more, now, would be cheating. And cleaving is the only honest thing in existence.
Rebecca Blocksome
Ut Pictura Poesis: Word and Image in Early Modernism W. J. T. Mitchell, in his book Iconology, dissects the ut pictura poesis tradition in art criticism, which attempts to find points of similarity between painting and poetry – points of contact or transference between the two arts. Taken at face value, it seems like a slightly perverse pastime, since in general painting and poetry – or in a larger frame of reference, words and images – superficially have many more differences than they do similarities. In fact, they are often regarded as two entities in opposition to each other, each one laying claim to a particular territory: painting to the natural world, space and vision; poetry to the world of ideas, time and audition.1 Mitchell goes on to argue that this is an artificial dichotomy; there is no essential difference between text and image,2 and in fact works of art which incorporate aspects of both texts and images are the rule, not the exception3. Further, he identifies two periods where the borders between art and language were especially porous: XVIIIth-century romanticism, and XXth-century modernism. Both these statements directly contradict conventional wisdom, which alleges that modernism in particular aggressively tried to eliminate any connection with the literary world. This argument has been expressed by, among others, Rosalind Krauss: “Surfacing in prewar cubist painting and subsequently becoming ever more stringent and manifest, the grid announces, among other things, modern art’s will to silence, its hostility to literature, to narrative, to discourse. As such, the grid has done its job with striking efficiency. The barrier it has lowered between the arts of vision and those of language has been almost totally successful in walling the visual arts into a realm 1 Mitchell W. J. T., Iconology: Image, Text, Ideology. Chicago, 1986. 47–48. 2 Mitchell W. J. T., Iconology: Image, Text, Ideology. Chicago, 1986. 49.
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3 Mitchell W. J. T., Iconology: Image, Text, Ideology. Chicago, 1986. 155.
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of exclusive visuality and defending them against the intrusion of speech.4” According to this analysis, the most significant aspect of modernism is formalism, and in particular abstraction. By de-emphasising or eliminating the subject through abstraction, modern art also destroyed any literary allusions or narrative functions which might have contaminated the purity of the visual. Formalism meant the absolute sovereignty of the visual image, taken as an instantaneous perception of a crystallised moment: space, time, and meaning itself were subjected towards this end.5 Form was the bearer of meaning, in and of itself. This can be understood in the context of semiotics, which traditionally divides symbolic forms into three types: the icon, which resembles what it represents; the index, which bears some actual physical connection to what it represents; and the sign, which has only an arbitrary or conventional relationship to what it represents. According to these divisions, images fall into the category of icons, and words fall into the category of signs6. Under modernism, according to a strict formalist critique, both media – text and images – were assigned certain realms which they were best suited to depict based on their semiotic strengths and weaknesses, and were effectively barred from attempting to cross or circumscribe those boundaries. Conversely, however, there was a great deal of actual art done during the period of modernism that integrates text and image – in fact, it was during this period that groundbreaking work was done in the synthesis of the two forms, especially in the visual poetry of early modernism. This is the work which forms the basis for the rest of this paper. But before we examine it, it might be fruitful to first theorise a bit about how such work was created, in defiance of the conventional analysis. In fact, while formalism did act to delineate the differences between various modes of representation, it also carried implications that made such crossover work possible. As formalism emphasised the actual visual qualities of a representation rather than its referent, the image was no longer secondary to the “real” world. In fact, the image began to be appreciated in its own right. The two-dimensionality of the canvas was emphasised and exploited, rather than being forced 4 Krauss Rosalind E., The Originality of the Avantgarde and other Modernist Myths. In Mitchell W. J. T. (ed.), Ut Pictura Theoria: Abstract Painting and the Repression of Language. Critical Inquiry 1989/2. 349. 5 Mitchell W. J. T. (ed.), Ut Pictura Theoria: Abstract Painting and the Repression of Language. Critical Inquiry 1989/2. 351. 6 Mitchell W. J. T., Iconology: Image, Text, Ideology. Chicago, 1986. 56.
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into an illusion of three-dimensional space. Images came into their own as images, not mere copies of a greater reality7. Likewise, the written word throughout history has played a secondary role to the spoken word: writing is generally construed as a copy – and in most cases, a poor copy – of spoken language, which is the primal form of the word. But with the rise of formalism, attention was given to the actual written shape of the word; for the first time it could assert its own primacy, not as a copy of the spoken word, but as a completely different entity with a different function and different signification8. Thus words and images as forms were free to intermingle and mutually transgress each other’s territory, opening up a whole new space for hybrid “imagetexts”. Mitchell coins this term in Picture Theory, his sequel to Iconology, to designate composite works (or concepts) that combine image and text. His idea is that meaning is not specific to the medium, that words and images interact with and reinforce each other, and that there is no such thing as a pure medium.9
I. Symbolists: Stéphane Mallarmé We can examine the beginnings of this hybrid form as expressed in modernism with the circle of symbolist poets working in Paris in the latter part of the XIXth century. The symbolists took as their aim the presentation of sensory experience, and toward this end they were especially fond of using music and colour imagery in their poetry. Perhaps most importantly, though, they drew a distinction between purity and clarity of language. Their goal was purity, but they felt the most pure language was also an obscure one, one not easily accessible to everyone10. One key figure in this circle was Stéphane (Étienne) Mallarmé (1842–1898), who during the course of his work became concerned not only with the imagery in the poem, but also its concrete appearance on the page. He felt text should have a material image in its own right, not merely serving as a vehicle for the conveyance 7 JAY Martin, Downcast Eyes: The Denigration of Vision in Twentieth-Century French Thought. Berkeley, 1993. 180–181. 8 DERRIDA Jacques, Of Grammatology. Baltimore, 1976. 52. 9 DILLON George L., Writing with Images: Towards a Semiotics of the Web. 2003. In HYPERLINK “http:// courses.washington.edu/hypertxt/cgi-bin/12.228.185.206/html/wordsimages/wordsimages.html” http://courses.washington.edu/hypertxt/cgi-bin/12.228.185.206/html/wordsimages/wordsimages.html. 10 JAY Martin, Downcast Eyes: The Denigration of Vision in Twentieth-Century French Thought. Berkeley, 1993.
176–177.
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of propositional content. His groundbreaking work in this respect is Un coup de dés jamais n’abolira le hasard (A Throw of the Dice Will Never Abolish Chance), first published in 1897. A revised version, which is now authoritative, was published in 1914, but it was the earlier version which was to have such an impact on the shape of typography in early modernism11. The subject of the poem is a shipwreck, with various themes of risk, action and decision running through the narrative. No “image” is present, but the typography plays an important role in conveying the meaning of the poem. The typeface and spacing are varied across the book spread, with larger, bolder type indicating the most important words or motifs. The white space conveys silence. As there is no syntax or grammar to hold the words together, it is only their arrangement on the page that guides the viewer or reader through the text. The layout affects the pacing of the narrative as well, with close-set type or large gaps requiring the viewer to speed up or slow down reading12. Throughout the text the typography serves not to reinforce or illustrate the meaning; rather, it runs perpendicular to the semantic meaning, altering or contradicting it13. Nearly three quarters of a century later, Jean-François Lyotard (1824–1898) was still captivated by Mallarmé’s revolutionary approach to text. He wrote in Discours, Figure (1971): “When the word is made thing, it is not to copy a visible thing, but to render visible an invisible, lost thing: it gives form to the imaginary of which it speaks.” He regarded Mallarmé’s work as a hybrid discourse or figure, which “expresses through its blanks, its body, the folds of its pages”14. Thus, for Lyotard, the most profound insights in Un coup de dés are, first, that the word is a reality with no iconic form; and second, that what is not represented is as important as what is represented.
11 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 9.
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II. Cubists The symbolists’ textual experiments were naturally integrated into the next major style to arise in Paris – cubism. Several poets within the symbolists’ sphere of influence moved on to form the nucleus of the cubist circle; thus from the very beginning there was a literary aspect to cubism, and text and image were tightly interwoven in their work.
1. Guillame Apollinaire The artist-poet most responsible for this connection was Guillame Apollinaire (Wilhelm Apolinary Kostrowicki, 1880–1918), also a writer and art critic. In addition to being a member of the symbolist circle, Apollinaire wrote the first definitive classification of cubist artists in Les Peintres Cubistes (1908)15. In his own work, he was particularly influenced by the “antinarrative simultaneism” of cubism – the depiction of an object from several perspectives at once, giving the implication of time, but without a specified viewing order. Starting from this point, Apollinaire hit upon a verbal-visual equivalent: different ideas and perceptions could be juxtaposed haphazardly to give the same impression as a simultaneous experience in life. The eye would take in all these various elements and recompose them instantaneously into a single perception, as in life16. The Calligrammes (1918), his most famous work, were inspired by Asian calligraphic writing systems, where the character for the word visually resembles what it represents. Contrary to Mallarmé, he used the form of the words to mimic the subject and reinforce its meaning, rather than altering or contradicting it. His Animated Landscape of 1914 presents four impressions of single entities: house (here is the home where were born the stars and the gods); shrub (this shrub ready to fruit is you); lover’s kiss (sleeping / together / you are separated / my members); and a cigar (lit, smoking)17. All four taken together give the idea of a single event or memory, a true simultaneous narrative. The first two calligrams present complete sentences or thoughts, while the third presents a disjointed thought, and the fourth has no thought at all, merely a sense impression. In
12 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 10. 13 JAY Martin, Downcast Eyes: The Denigration of Vision in Twentieth-Century French Thought. Berkeley, 1993. 179. 14 Lyotard Jean-François, Discours, Figure. In JAY Martin, Downcast Eyes: The Denigration of Vision in Twentieth-Century French Thought. Berkeley, 1993. 179.
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15 COOPER Douglas, The Cubist Epoch. Oxford, 1976. 108–109. 16 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 14. 17 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 14.
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this way the poetic form mimics the sensory capacities of its narrator, allowing the reader to more fully identify with and immerse herself or himself into the narrator’s experience. Il Pleut (It is Raining), from 1916, continues the same practice of mimicking the subject, but in this instance it is an action rather than a concrete object being mimicked. But in Venu de dieuze, created in 1915, Apollinaire rejects this mimicry in a radical departure from the Calligrammes. The poem no longer imitates the subject’s form, but instead integrates various elements from musical notation to interact with the text. The musical symbols each have meanings in and of themselves, and these meanings add additional layers of meaning onto the words themselves in a sophisticated interplay of text and image.
2. Pierre Albert-Birot A second important artist from the cubist movement was Pierre Albert-Birot (1876–1967). Although not as famous as Apollinaire, he was vitally important behind the scenes: in 1916 he founded the review SIC, which ran for three years and was the primary outlet for his and Apollinaire’s work. Albert-Birot was a printer as well as an artist, and the final expressive forms of many works of visual poetry from this period are due to his technical genius in typesetting18. Albert-Birot was heavily influenced by Mallarmé’s work, but he was also very concerned with the sound as well as the shape of the poem. These dual interests can be seen in his Poème à crier et à danser (Poems for Declaiming and Dancing), from 1917. The work is composed of five parts, all of which were intended to be recited as well as read on paper. The first part, Chant I, has the subtitle Essay in Pure Poetry; it comprises not words but sounds, foreshadowing Dada poetry, and it also introduces the aspect of multiple voices into the poem19. But while the auditory form is clearly important, the visual form is not less meaningful: Albert-Birot pays careful attention to visual rhythm and symmetry in the layout, and even adopts Apollinaire’s imitation of subjective form in Metro. Landscape Poem from 1919 takes a completely different approach, similar in many ways to Apollinaire’s Animated Landscape. This poem reflects no concern with the sound, but only with the visual image. As with Apollinaire’s work, Albert-Birot is presenting a 18 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 9. 19 Pierre Albert-Birot. In HYPERLINK “http://www.ubu.com/”www.ubu.com/sound/Albert-Birot.html.
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multifaceted experience comprising several discrete impressions: “Behind / there is the sea / And behind the sea / there are houses […] I love my wife […] I invite / birds / to sing for her […] I lavish her with caresses / each spring […] I am very noble and sacrifice myself for others […] I am also sometimes very gay / yet am not often looked at”20 The difference, however, lies in Albert-Birot’s more integrated approach, with the lines of text leading the eye from one element to the next instead of presenting four complete but separate images for contemplation. As can be seen in the house windows, where words are broken in the middle to fit the necessary shape, Albert-Birot no longer perceives words as units: the form clearly takes precedence over the semantic meaning.
III. Italian Futurists Outside of Paris, the Italian Futurists were calling for a complete revolution in literature, art and society – they wanted to wipe the slate clean and start again from a radically new foundation. While familiar with Mallarmé’s groundbreaking work, they rejected it as being too decorative and precious, too static21. Instead, they sought a more dynamic, direct means of communication, using essential “free” words as ammunition, which would impress themselves immediately on the mind, resulting in pure, unmediated communication.
1. Filippo Tommaso Marinetti Their ideals were clearly set forth in the 1913 manifesto by the movement’s leader, Filippo Tommaso Marinetti (1876–1944). Marinetti called for the creation of a new language, under the motto parole in liberta (words in liberty). He wrote: “The futurist will begin by brutally destroying the syntax of speech. He wastes no time in building sentences. Punctuation and the right adjectives mean nothing to him. He will despise subtleties and nuances of language. Breathlessly he will assault your nerves with visual, auditory, olfactory sensations, just as they come to him. The rush of steam-emotion will burst the sentence’s steam pipe, the values of punctuation, the adjectival clamp. Fistfuls of essential words in no conventional order. […] With words-in-liberty we will have: Condensed metaphors. Telegraphic images. Maximum vibrations. Nodes of thought. Closed or open forms of movement. Compressed
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analogies. […] The speed of sensations. […] The plunge of the essential word into the water of sensibility.22” Marinetti was by far the most prominent of the Italian Futurists, and his work set the style for the movement. The two most important characteristics were visual onomatopoeia, words that look as well as sound like what they mean; and synæsthesia, where texts appealed simultaneously to all five senses. In contrast to Dada poetry, the language of the futurists always retained meaning, although sometimes just barely. They also frequently inserted mathematical symbols into the text, each of which had a significant meaning above and beyond the mere replacement of words. Above all, the form was a part of the content, and the content created the form23. The first major work in this radical new language was Marinetti’s epic poem of 1914, Zang Tumb Tumb. This novel-poem describes the siege of Adrianapoli during the first Balkan War. As a long work, it retains by necessity some stylistic conventions, including a predominantly linear textual layout. The text itself, however, is not linear but rather composed of sentence fragments; the staccato word spacing helps the reader deal with these abrupt transitions. Typographically, most experiments concern the size, arrangement on the page, font, and spacing; Marinetti, however, also includes an occasional typographic illustration, for example a captive Turkish balloon24. Frequent lists operate outside the narrative, eliciting a direct and personal relationship with the topic, in keeping with the futurists’ aspirations for unmediated communication. Marinetti’s later works include collage and drawn elements and nearly take on the appearance of abstract paintings. Several such examples can be seen in his 1919 work, Les mots en liberté futuristes. One scene, Après le Marne, Joffre visita le front en auto (After the Marne, Joffre toured the front by car25), shows a winding journey through mountains, valleys and battlefields. In addition to words describing the setting, there are onomatopoetic words mimicking the noises of the war and the car. Several mathematical symbols and numbers appear, possibly representing casualties from the battle, in forms suggesting a cemetery. Another scene from the same work, Bataille à 9 étages (Nine-storied battle), takes on an almost diagrammatic form. The scene shows mountain peaks, a valley and a 22 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 20. 23 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 21–25.
20 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 19.
24 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 24–27.
21 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 9.
25 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 28.
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lake, with a description of the battle taking place at various heights. The story is told both visually and in words, but it is much less emotional, less chaotic, than was typical for the Italian futurists26.
to a climax, then gradually recedes; this can be seen especially in the pulsating (“flo flo flo”) which appears both at the beginning and the end of the poem29.
2. Armando Mazza
IV. Russian School Futurists
Although Marinetti was clearly the giant of the movement, several young Italian futurists also did important work in the new typographic style. Their work was showcased in Lacerba (1913–1915) and L’Italia Futurista (1916–1918), two reviews that covered everything from art to politics to society. With a circulation of around twenty thousand, mostly from the working classes, they truly introduced futurism into daily life in Italy. The young futurists continued to work in the shadow of Marinetti; their style is generally similar to his, although it tends to be more dense and complex, meditating almost impressionistically on the subject matter of the poem27. Armando Mazza’s Marinetti provides a good illustration of just how great the master’s influence was among the futurists. Written as a sort of homage, the poem describes Marinetti in glowing terms: “genius explosive container of enthusiasm / imperial cyclone of lyricism”; “footballer of reactionary skills, stalker of women and enemies”; “S.O.S. of futurist will radiating to infinity”; “maker of wars and revolutionaries, gymnast vaulting on the rings of the stars, on the ocean”. The poem does, however, show originality in form, using words as parts of a greater word to make up the letters in Marinetti’s name28.
3. Angelo Josia Kisses in a Cemetery, by Angelo Josia, is notable for being one of the few examples of Italian futurist poetry not related to war. The poem describes a lover’s tryst in a graveyard, abounding in imagery both of the lovers and of the setting: “Veins pulsating in harmony, alternating with the desire of kisses. Distant bells tolling folly of crosses. Idyllic rustle of cypresses. Ragged shadows. Shall we not die? The dawn of the world is my sunset. Let’s take advantage of the silence of the dead to kiss her, walking on a carpet of green skeletons.” The typography follows the line of the narrative to build 26 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 31.
The Russian School Futurists shared the revolutionary ideals and interest in words and poetry of their Italian counterparts, but still there were important differences between the two groups. The Russian group formed later than the Italians, and they were a bit wary of them; some Russians even disliked the name futurist, feeling that it was foreign to them. In contrast to the Italians, who were interested primarily in the expressiveness of the text, the Russians were concerned more with visual excitement. They were also not nearly as enchanted with the machine, which was manifest in the form of their work: while Italian futurist poetry was virtually always typeset, the Russian equivalent was predominantly handmade30. Russian futurist work appeared primarily in the form of handmade books, usually a collaboration between two or more poets and artists – the writing and illustration were generally done by different people, reflected in the characteristic formula of text plus illustration, rather than text as illustration in the Italian style. Influenced by Russian folk art and cubism, the style of these works was intentionally “primitive” and painterly. The handmade æsthetic was carried through each element of the book, from different page sizes and papers to disunified lettering styles, sometimes changing even on the same page; occasionally rubber stamps were added to the handwritten text. More than fifty such books were produced during the movement’s lifetime31.
1. Velemir Khlebnikov One of the biggest names working in this style was Velemir Khlebnikov (Велими́р ХЛЕ́БНИКОВ, 1885–1922) a poet and artist known especially for his invention of Zaum, a transrational language that bordered on the Dada-esque. The Three, from 1913, with front and back covers designed by Kazimir Malevich (Казимир МАЛЕВИЧ, 1879–1935), is a typical example of the Russian futurist style. Overall it is much more restrained than the Italian works; 29 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 149.
27 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 117.
30 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 32.
28 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 146.
31 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 42.
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typographic elements play with the punctuation, size and layout, but still the cubist-influenced illustration is dominant32. The 1914 Te li le (decorations by Rozmanova), shows further experimentation: the title and some poems are in Zaum, and, more importantly, colour is used throughout the work. Previous works of visual poetry, both by cubists and Italian futurists, tended to work in a monochrome (black) colour scheme33. While this was necessitated by the constraints of typesetting in printed works, in the handwritten pieces it was more a matter of convention; thus the Russian futurists were the first to free type from its traditional monochromatic presentation.
2. David Burliuk Other artist-poets worked in a style closer to the Italians – for example David BURLIUK, (Давид БУРЛЮК, 1882–1967) whose Tango for Cows from 1914, with poems by Vasily Kamensky(Васи́лий КАМЕ́НСКИЙ, 1884–1961), shows many typographic similarities with the Italians. The poems are typeset rather than being hand lettered, and it uses type as illustration rather than type plus illustration. The handmade book æsthetic, however, is still characteristically Russian: it is printed on the reverse side of wallpaper scraps. Not a single narrative, Tango for Cows is rather a collection of poems, most of which consist only of nouns and adjectives; thus no reading order is given to the viewer, who must let her or his eye wander through the text34. Various vignettes include Childhood, Cabaret, Telephone Conversation, and Flight over Warsaw. The latter is designed to be read bottom to top, fading out as the airplane lifts off. The text of this poem consists of meaningful sentences, but the beginnings and ends of words are cut off to fit the visual form35.
3. Ilya Zdanevich Another significant artist from the Russian school was Ilya Zdanevich (Илья́ ЗДАНЕ́ВИЧ, 1894–1975), who worked between 1918 and 1923. An artist and printer, like Albert-Birot, his work shows an astonishing command of typesetting. It exists somewhere on the border between futurism and Dada, as oftentimes the 32 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 43. 33 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 32. 34 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 46–47. 35 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 49.
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meaning is confused or apparently destroyed. Zdanevich, however, maintained that his work always had an underlying sense: “Nothing is left to chance, everything, down to the last minor detail, has a tight, mathematical precision.” His 1923 work Le-Dantyu as Beacon demonstrates this complex layering of elements and meanings with typographical finesse. It is an epic poem about the adventures of Le Dantyu, in reality an obscure Russian avant garde artist; the main theme is the relationship between nature (reality) and art36. Allegedly written for recitation, the typography overcomes the poem’s vocal form. Several printer’s symbols are used throughout the text, each with its own pronunciation given in a table at the beginning. In other places the largest or boldest letter indicates the stressed syllable, particularly in unfamiliar words – the text comprises real Russian words spelled unconventionally, plus the transrational language of Zaum. Each speaker, indicated in the margins, has a different voice: one speaks in all vowels, another with no vowels, a third with a lisp and vocal clicks, others in a coarse Russian dialect. Each and every page number throughout the sixty-plus page book has a different form. Various effects include the use of printer’s ornaments to compose letters, as well as the arrangement of text like a musical score, showing the various speakers entering separately or in unison. The earliest version also had a system of horizontal and vertical lines to indicate the pitch and dynamics of the voices in a highly complex scheme37.
V. Echoes and Repercussions Zdanevich’s work provided a natural bridge between the work of the Russian futurists and Dada poets such as Tristan Tzara (Samuel Rosenstock, 1896–1963), Hugo Ball (1886–1927) and Kurt Schwitters (1887–1948). The Dada artists used typography not to enhance meaning, but to destroy it. They were particularly concerned with sound and explored the phonetic value of words and letters both visually and vocally38. Mallarmé’s work in particular inspired a generation of concrete poets, especially the Noigandres circle in Brazil and the great Mexican poet Octavio Paz (1914–1998)39. Conceptual artists such as the Art & Language group in the 36 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 37 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 50–69. 38 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 70–71. 39 Greene Roland, The Concrete Historical. In The Harvard Library Bulletin 1992/2. In www.ubu.com/papers/ greene.html.
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United Kingdom, or contemporary U.S. artist Jenny Holzer (1950– ), borrowed the ideas but not the forms of these early image-text experiments; in their work, the word overtakes the image and stands in its place. Similarly, the surrealism of René Magritte (1898–1967) demonstrates a complex and uneasy relationship between image and text and their modes of signification40. And finally, the forms of the Italian futurists found their way into the world of advertising – perhaps a touch of irony, as they were created for subversion and ended up a mainstay of consumer society. Francesco Depero for one, though, said he was delighted to see his work “plagiarised on every street corner.41” From all these examples it is readily apparent that, in fact, texts and images do not have to define themselves in opposition to each other: they can harmoniously coexist in a single work of art, and they can even fruitfully challenge the roles which they have traditionally played, whether those be assigned by nature or convention. The work of the early moderns was pivotal in opening up this space for exploration, and it continues to be relevant today in the postmodern quest to understand the processes of signification.
Holger Lahayne
Religion, Democratic Society and the Individual in Lithuania We are now entering the age of post-secularism: religion is back in the public sphere. Even Richard Rorty has proposed a new public religious faith. He has come to accept that all competing worldviews are ultimately competing commitments to some orientation-giving faith, and that no conflict between worldviews can be resolved by an appeal to reason or objective standards of truth. At their core, all worldviews require faith and hope. But Rorty favours a rather vague public faith, which he calls “romantic polytheism”. In modern secular democracies, poetry should take over the role that religion has played in the formation of individual human lives. Yet Rorty’s vision of a new kind of faith is profoundly anti-clerical and anti-ecclesiastical. There may be, according to Rorty, congregations of believers, but the Church as an institution or public voice is potentially dangerous for democratic society, as Rorty wrote in The Future of Religion (with Gianni Vattimo). For him, U.S. democracy itself serves as a kind of substitute for the Church. The civil religion of democracy there, however, emphasises only relations between people and not between us and God.
I. Philosophical Grounding
40 Dillon George L., Writing with Images. 2003. In http://courses.washington.edu/hypertxt/cgibin/12.228.185.206/html/wordsinimages/wordsin.html. 41 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 22.
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It is not a non-theistic religion, not a vague theism or a demythologised Christianity we need. “Christianity, and nothing else,” Jürgen Habermas said, is the source of our Western achievements such as democracy. Any kind of religion will not help. It is not Islam, not Buddhism, not paganism and not Confucianism. It is Christianity (keeping the Hebrew/Jewish heritage) and its idea of the individual which made democracy possible.
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United Kingdom, or contemporary U.S. artist Jenny Holzer (1950– ), borrowed the ideas but not the forms of these early image-text experiments; in their work, the word overtakes the image and stands in its place. Similarly, the surrealism of René Magritte (1898–1967) demonstrates a complex and uneasy relationship between image and text and their modes of signification40. And finally, the forms of the Italian futurists found their way into the world of advertising – perhaps a touch of irony, as they were created for subversion and ended up a mainstay of consumer society. Francesco Depero for one, though, said he was delighted to see his work “plagiarised on every street corner.41” From all these examples it is readily apparent that, in fact, texts and images do not have to define themselves in opposition to each other: they can harmoniously coexist in a single work of art, and they can even fruitfully challenge the roles which they have traditionally played, whether those be assigned by nature or convention. The work of the early moderns was pivotal in opening up this space for exploration, and it continues to be relevant today in the postmodern quest to understand the processes of signification.
Holger Lahayne
Religion, Democratic Society and the Individual in Lithuania We are now entering the age of post-secularism: religion is back in the public sphere. Even Richard Rorty has proposed a new public religious faith. He has come to accept that all competing worldviews are ultimately competing commitments to some orientation-giving faith, and that no conflict between worldviews can be resolved by an appeal to reason or objective standards of truth. At their core, all worldviews require faith and hope. But Rorty favours a rather vague public faith, which he calls “romantic polytheism”. In modern secular democracies, poetry should take over the role that religion has played in the formation of individual human lives. Yet Rorty’s vision of a new kind of faith is profoundly anti-clerical and anti-ecclesiastical. There may be, according to Rorty, congregations of believers, but the Church as an institution or public voice is potentially dangerous for democratic society, as Rorty wrote in The Future of Religion (with Gianni Vattimo). For him, U.S. democracy itself serves as a kind of substitute for the Church. The civil religion of democracy there, however, emphasises only relations between people and not between us and God.
I. Philosophical Grounding
40 Dillon George L., Writing with Images. 2003. In http://courses.washington.edu/hypertxt/cgibin/12.228.185.206/html/wordsinimages/wordsin.html. 41 Bartram Alan, Futurist Typography and the Liberated Text. London, 2005. 22.
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It is not a non-theistic religion, not a vague theism or a demythologised Christianity we need. “Christianity, and nothing else,” Jürgen Habermas said, is the source of our Western achievements such as democracy. Any kind of religion will not help. It is not Islam, not Buddhism, not paganism and not Confucianism. It is Christianity (keeping the Hebrew/Jewish heritage) and its idea of the individual which made democracy possible.
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Thomas Cahill explains in his great book, The Gift of the Jews, that generally in the ancient world human life was regarded as a reflection of life in the heavenly realm, controlled by the forces of destiny. The gods decided everything. The examples, patterns, paradigms are in heaven, ‘written in the stars’. The task of human beings is to repeat these, to act in accordance with them. The Biblical concept is absolutely different, not cyclical but linear. The stars are no gods, and human beings are truly free. Their thinking, feeling and acting have meaning and potential to create something new. In Genesis 12 we meet Abraham – an individual stepping into an unknown future. His is not repeating a pattern, but God is making history with him. In the Bible we see, again and again, unique individuals: bizarre, surprising people, who do not fit into any given pattern; real persons who impact history and change their destiny. German philologist Erich Auerbach (1892–1957) in the first chapter of Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature compared the view of personality in Homer’s Odyssey and in the Old Testament. He emphasised how deep the characters of Saul and David, how complex and multifaceted the relationships between David and Absalom, David and Joab are. Achilles and Odysseus, in contrast, are described with many beautifully arranged words, but their characters are almost without development. If we compare this with Jacob and the other patriarchs, we see a complex inner life and change. Their behaviour is often inconsistent; they are rebellious, in conflict with themselves, their families and God. They are not one-dimensional heroes, but real persons, real people, who matter. God is serious with them, talks to each of them person to person, reveals God’s plans, listens to them. And each of them – Abraham, Enoch, Jeremiah, Isaiah, Amos, Jonah, Job – reacts differently, believes differently, walks his own way with God. The oft-repeated metaphor of “walking with God” in Genesis (5,22–24; 6,9; 17,1; 24,40; 48,15) fits very well to the totally new worldview in that book. To walk suggests direction and destination; twists and turns; hazards and obstacles – in one word, adventure. To walk implies alternatives and decisions; it means entering new, unknown territory. And walking with God is intimate, personal, challenging and encouraging. “Walking” with the gods of Sumer and Babylon? An incomprehensible idea.
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It is individuals that matter and change history, for better or worse. Thomas Cahill, interviewed for a TV show by Bill MOYERS, says, while giving examples from recent South African history and Saint Patrick in Ireland: “I do not think that real civilisation ever occurs because of anything that a nation state does. It occurs because of movements within the nation state that are led sometimes by one individual or a series of individuals.” Clive Staples Lewis (1898–1963) accentuated the same thought in his essay Man or Rabbit?: “To the Materialist, things like nations, classes, civilisations must be more important than individuals, because the individuals live only seventy odd years each and the group may last for centuries. But to the Christian, individuals are more important, for they live eternally; and races, civilisations and the like are in comparison the creatures of a day.” The theological concept in the background is again the Creator– creature distinction. According to Jan Assmann, the “differentiation of God and world” was the new idea of Hebrew monotheism. Foundational in ancient pagan worldview was the conviction that “the divine can not be extracted from the world”; thus Assmann calls pagan polytheism cosmotheism, which means the universe is divine or permeated by the divine. On the contrary, “in monotheism the divine becomes emancipated from its integration into the universe, society, destiny, and it faces the world as an independent entity”. At the same time the human becomes emancipated and a real counterpart of God; there is now a place for partnership and relationship with God. The human now becomes an “autonomous or theonomous individual”. “Monotheism set people free to be morally responsible,” Assmann says. But consciously being moral, responsible for one’s own life and decisions, facing an open future is – at least sometimes – a heavy burden as well. It is easier to live in the pagan world, just repeating given patterns. And it is even worse: we are free individuals because we can become guilty. H. Stein says that without moral conflict there can be no individual; the individual was born out of bad conscience: I am responsible for my deeds, so I may be guilty. Assmann comments: “The refined and deepened sense of guilt represents a high achievement of civilisation.” That everyone “has to die for his or her own sin” (Dt 24,16; see also 2Chr 14,6; Jer 31,29– 30; Ez 18,1–4. 20) is the oft-repeated foundational judicial principle in the Bible which flows out of this.
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Lithuanian philosopher Juozas GIRNIUS (1915–1994) wrote in Žmogus be Dievo (The Human without God): “Where there is freedom, there is also guilt. Freedom elevates the human to the level of a moral being, but it also makes sin possible.” He also emphasised that theism is a necessary condition for real guilt: “If there is nothing superior to the human, there is no one before whom the human can be guilty. From the point of view of atheism, conscience must seem a mythical survival, exactly like God.” Francis August Schaeffer (1912–1984), commenting on Romans 1,21–22 about the universal guilt of humans, says: “The whole emphasis of these verses is that the human has known the truth and deliberately turned away from it. But if this is so, then the human is wonderful: he or she can really influence significant history. Since God has made the human in His own image, the human is not caught in the wheels of determinism. Rather, the human is so great that he or she can influence history for himself and for others, for this life and the life to come. The human is lost, but great.” The human is lost, but great: this is the view of human beings necessary for the proper functioning of democracy. Therefore it is no accident that on the foundation of non-Christian religions, no society in the world has ever developed a concept of real democracy. Eastern religions such as Buddhism see the individual as the problem. Victoria Trimondi and Victor Trimondi write: “The Westerners believe that enlightened consciousness still has something to do with a self. In contrast, a teacher of Tantric Buddhism knows that the individual identity of the pupil will be completely extinguished and replaced by a strictly codified, culturally anchored army of gods. It is the Tibetan Buddhas, herukas, Bodhisattvas, deities, demons (dharmapalas), and the representatives of the particular guru lineages, who take the place of the individual pupil’s consciousness.” India is called the world’s biggest democracy, but this system of government started from the background of British law and administration. Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi (1869–1948) himself borrowed deeply from Christianity, and Jawaharlal Nehru (1889–1964) had Western secularist convictions. The tradition of caste was abolished (as, of course, utterly undemocratic), but it survives somehow until today. In Turkey, secularism was introduced ninety years ago by Mustafa Kemal Atatürk (1881–1938) by sheer force, a radical revolution from above. Since then democracy is somehow working, but Turkey is still
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far from real religious freedom and equality. It has not developed deep roots, so that the Kemalist system has to be fiercely protected by courts and the army, the real centres of power in the state. South Korea left behind its authoritarian past and is now a well functioning democracy. And it is no accident that many of its leading politicians are Christians, and that the evangelical churches have been growing for decades so that soon the majority in that traditional Buddhist country will be Christian. When the Lithuanian rulers accepted Christianity around 1400, they turned away from paganism and accepted Roman Catholicism, the Western form of Christianity, not the Orthodox faith of the neighbouring people. This was a very important step whose impact we still see today. The spirit of the Orthodox tradition goes back to Eusebius of Cæsarea, the first church historian. He was celebrating Constantine, the first Christian emperor in the fourth century, as the culmination of God’s saving work: Constantine brought about the unification of the world in a single harmonious order, one Empire, the Church and Rome as one entity. Church architecture in this period took on Roman imperial forms; in Church art Jesus Christ was depicted as emperor: the divine Pantokrator Jesus Christ, the emperor as autokrator. Eusebius was convinced that a new messianic age had dawned. Sergei Nikolaevich Bulgakov (1871–1944) confirmed that with Constantine the state “entered into the Reign of God”; the emperor was now “glorified by the Church as ‘equal to the Apostles’”. The Orthodox theologian writes: “The Church drew near to the state and took upon itself the responsibility for the latter’s destiny. This rapprochement made a place for the Emperor in the Church. When he became a Christian sovereign, the Church poured out its gifts upon him, by means of unction; and it loved the Anointed, not only as head of the state but as one who bore a special charisma, the charisma of rule; as the bridegroom of the Church, possessing the image of Christ Himself. The Emperor received a special place in the hierarchy.” Bulgakov denied “Cæsaro-papism, in which the ecclesiastical supremacy belonged to the Emperor. Cæsaro-papism was always an abuse; never was it recognised, dogmatically or canonically.” Nevertheless, the emperor “as ‘bishop for external affairs’ could exercise a great influence over the Church”. He was even called “the ‘architect’ of the Kingdom of God on Earth”. The relationship
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between Church and state, which was established in principle, is a “‘symphony’, that is mutual harmony and independence of the two parts.” It is not an identification between Church and state, but a foundational “alliance [of the Church] with the state”. One emperor, one patriarch, one people: this was stressed during the reign of the tsars, and it is still not questioned today. The single citizen is of minor importance; her or his rights are almost nothing compared to that of the state and the nation. There is almost no distance between Church and state; there is no dangerous voice at all. The Western branch of Christianity followed Augustine of Hippo, the giant among the Latin Church fathers. Roman Catholics and Protestants alike regard him as one of the greatest authorities. Jean Calvin once said he would be happy to confess his faith purely in the words of Augustine. The African bishop favoured the opposite position to Eusebius. In his major work, Civitas Dei (The City of God), Augustine distinguished between the city of humans, worldly rule, and the city of God, the Church. They are not at all identical. Reformed Baptist Nick Needham writes: “Arguably, the most important thing Augustine does for us today in The City of God is to offer a piercing Christian critique of the pretensions of the city of humans. The reality of original sin and human depravity, Augustine insisted, is as applicable to human institutions as to human individuals. He had no time for Messianic posturings by any state, whether the Christianised Roman Empire of his own day, or any successor in the future. […] Augustine dissented from this idealisation of the Roman Empire; no matter how Christian it might profess itself, it was just as fallible and mutable, as caught up in the flux of history and human sin, as any other kingdom.” The spirit of The City of God is almost totally foreign to what the Orthodox theologians taught and what we see today in Russia. The separation of Church and worldly authority, rule of law, pluralism, individualism: all that could flourish just in the Western branch of Christendom, because there the Church did not often give in to the temptation of a too close alliance with the state. The Roman Catholic faith is more supportive of democracy than the Orthodox; yet the Protestant tradition is still more so. If God reveals God’s ways to individuals, not just to the authorities, and if the most important thing is our individual response, as Protestants underline, then that has political implications; our own views have just as much significance as those of the authorities.
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Modern democracy started in countries where people began to read the Bible for themselves. Every single person became important. And if they were so important that God sent God’s Son to die for them and gave them God’s Word to be studied, then they were important as citizens of their country, as well. At the beginning of the XVIIth century, Lithuania was about to become a Protestant country. Unfortunately, the Reformed churches were pushed back and almost extinguished in the course of that century. One result was that the soil for democracy became too dry. The strict hierarchy in the Church resembled the undemocratic structure in state and society. Reformed theologians such as Jean Calvin were much more critical of Church leaders, as we saw, than the Roman Catholics. Even the Constitution of 3 May 1791 of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth, Europe’s first codified modern constitution, although guaranteeing religious freedom “to all rites and religions in the Polish lands”, says in Article 1: “The dominant national religion is and shall be the sacred Roman Catholic faith with all its laws. Passage from the dominant religion to any other confession is forbidden under penalties of apostasy.” The individual’s freedom was thus restricted very seriously. The Roman Catholic Church made its peace with democracy in the XXth century, yet the hierarchical thinking is still present. In Roman Catholic social teaching, although an example for Protestants in many ways, the social ontology presupposed by subsidiarity is definitely hierarchical. The Church, under God, is above the state, and intermediate structures such as the family are above the individual. Abraham Kujiper’s (1837–1920) concept of sphere sovereignty (souvereinitet in eigen kring), in contrast, is non-hierarchical. The individual and the spheres are directly under God.
II. Strengthening Democracy in Lithuania 1. Part of the West
We have to confirm the position of Lithuania as being a part of the West. The Augustinian heritage is very important for Roman Catholics and Protestants alike. In a predominantly Roman Catholic country, Augustine’s thinking can be a common ground for Christians, which enables us to confess together the fundamental values of our civilisation.
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As pointed out by Lithuanian history professor Edvardas Gudavicius, Lithuania is a latecomer to Latin civilisation. That is probably one of the reasons many intellectuals one hundred years ago, as well as more recently, favour openness to the insights of the East or even a kind of identity of Lithuania between East and West. There may be truth in these debates, but we should not be naïve: concerning democracy, it is not Ex Oriente Lux, but Ex Occidente Lux: the democratic light is still definitely coming from the West.
2. Protestant Heritage We have to rediscover the Evangelical-Lutheran and CalvinistReformed heritage. Being part of the West itself is not enough. Contemporary democracies in the West lack the necessary philosophical and theological base upon which to rest the allimportant concept of human rights, law and justice. There is no more an agreement on the nature of humans. In this context, especially the Reformed view of humans can give very good answers and make an impact. It is the Evangelical-Lutherans who emphasise the sinfulness of people, which leads to a realistic view of life and society; who see the great potential in humans and the importance of freedom; and who stress that faith has to be lived daily in practical life. But individualism can easily become a factor that reinforces narcissism, self-indulgence, self-promotion and greed. The temptation of a purely hedonistic individualism can only be overcome by a strong sense of duty. And this comes through faith in God, cultivated in faith communities. Yoshihiro Francis Fukuyama (1952–) writes: “Liberal democracies […] are not self-sufficient: the community life on which they depend must ultimately come from a source different from liberalism itself. The women and men who made up the American society at the time of the founding of the United States were not isolated, rational individuals calculating their self-interest. Rather they were for the most part members of religious communities held together by a common moral code and belief in God.”
3. Common Good We have to remember that happiness is not the first goal of democratic politics. The citizens’ well-being has to be an objective of governing. But that must not be confused with “personal peace and affluence” as overarching values, as Francis August Schaeffer often said.
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That would mean democracy works or is accepted by a majority as long as wealth and the economy are growing. But what happens when prosperity is in danger? Freedom, law and justice are, in the end, much more important than material well-being. We are used to thinking that democracy is the most successful system and will be accepted by more and more societies. But the enormous success of democracy after World War II went together with great economic growth. The Soviet Union probably broke down because of the disastrous economic situation. Liberal democratic capitalism is simply more successful. Yet countries like Singapore show that material affluence and non-democratic governing may go together. Will a soft autocratic rule be more profitable for material wellbeing? British-German sociologist Ralf Gustav Dahrendorf (1929– ) said: “A century of authoritarianism is not the most improbable prognosis for the XXIst century.” Liberal democracies will not survive if their vision of the common good does not extend beyond the mere economic and pragmatic. They need a broader and deeper vision, and Christians can provide that.
4. Creation Ordinances We have to see the importance of control through creation ordinances. One of the reasons democracy in post-soviet Lithuania does not yet have deep roots is that the civil society is still weak. Many social spheres between state and individual are still underdeveloped. It is not enough to proclaim a democratic constitution; we have to do our homework and care for justice in every area of life. David T. Koyzis emphasises that “the mere fact of people doing and seeking justice in their families, churches, businesses, labour unions, schools, art co-operatives and so forth in itself constitutes a potent limit to the totalising pretensions of government”. This kind of control will become more and more important in the age of post-democracy, a term made popular by British sociologist Colin Crouch and his book Post-Democracy. Crouch prophesies that the formal elements of democracy still survive: elections, debate and parties. But they are being bypassed and crisscrossed by new, less accountable processes. Especially the global transnational company
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(TNC) is for him “the key institution of the post-democratic world”. Constitutional democratic control alone will not be able to face these new challenges.
5. Against Pantheism and Paganism We have to argue with paganism and pantheism. Some worldviews support a democratic constitution of society, some do not. Abraham Kujiper was very critical of pantheism, which he called a poison, because it is “blurring all boundaries”: between Creator and creature, or between good and evil. “If, as Paganism contends, God dwells in the creature, a divine superiority is exhibited in whatever is high among humans,” Abraham Kujiper writes. This was and remains the big temptation of all kinds of pantheism. The great apologists C. S. Lewis and Gilbert K. Chesterton (1874–1936) agreed with him and strictly criticised paganism and pantheism. Pantheism and paganism are quite popular today, mostly in the form of neo-Gnosticism, New Age and esoteric thought. Paganism is often confirmed as part of the Baltic heritage. Yet this faith did not give us democracy, and it is even hostile to its true spirit. So, we have to take all these teachings much more seriously and fight them with words and arguments, since democracy has to be defended.
6. Resisting False Spirituality We must resist being enticed by super-spiritual pseudo-democratic leaders. Today almost every ruler calls herself or himself a democrat. And some, like the Dalai Lama, seem to be a good example of a new kind of democratic leader. His talks about a universal religion of love and his non-violence are very attractive. He emphasises that people are different, so there have to be different religions for different people; all religions are helping in different ways on personal spiritual paths. Is that not the spirit of democracy? The Declaration of the World Congress of Ethnic Religion from 1998 says something very similar: “All cultures as well as all native religions and faiths should be equally valued and respected.” All this sounds good, yet it is a good example of the already mentioned blurring of boundaries. It is pseudo-democratic to call evil good, to level all moral differences. There is much evil in many religions, and for this they must not be respected.
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7. Adapting to New Challenges With the help of the Reformed tradition, democracy will be able to adapt to new challenges. Our world is changing rapidly, and it is becoming confusing. We mentioned post-modernism, postsecularism and post-democracy. Scientific success allows some to speculate about trans- or post-humanism. Computer pioneer Raymond KURZWEIL (1948–) even prophesied The Age of Spiritual Machines: When Computers Exceed Human Intelligence. We can be sure that the future will bring some deep changes in the ways we live together and govern our societies. We have left something behind, we are now “post-” whatever, but we do not really know where we are heading. Some new answers have to be given – nd the Reformed faith is very well suited to help. It stands on a solid foundation, does not deny the tradition and the heritage of the Church fathers and the reformers. But it always looks for ways to be more faithful, to understand God, God’s Word and the world better. Our knowledge has to grow; we have to seek improvement. And the Reformed emphasise that Christians remain sinners and therefore may fail and go wrong. Therefore, it is mandatory to be open to correction to learn from other traditions. The Reformed churches are not just reformed, but always to be reformed: semper reformanda. Even the doctrinal statements are not exempt to critique and correction. In the preface of the Scottish Confession of Faith (1560) it is said: “If any person will note in this confession of ours any article or sentence repugning to God’s holy word, that it would please him of his gentleness, and for Christian charity’s sake, to admonish us of the same in writing; and we, of our honour and fidelity, do promise unto him satisfaction from the mouth of God (that is, from his Holy Scriptures), or else reformation of that which he shall prove to be amiss.” Again, this mindset goes back to the Bible and to Augustine, who wrote at the end of his life the Retractiones (Retractions), correcting some of his earlier views. So the Reformed faith is not static. And it reminds us that in this process of adapting to new situations, the insight of many people is helpful and necessary. We all have to work on new answers. Yet, as important individuals are and a democratic constitution is, we must not forget the words of David T. Koyzis:
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“Democracy may indeed be good, but it is not god.” It is good, but it is not an ultimate good. All our efforts will be futile if we ignore that “blessed are the people whose God is the Lord” (Ps 144,15). Suggested Reading Assmann Jan, Die Mosaische Unterscheidung oder der Preis der Freiheit. München–Wien, 2003. Auerbach Erich, Mimesis: Dargestellte Wirklichkeit in der abendländischen Literatur (Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature). Istanbul, 1946. Bulgakov Sergei Nikolaevich (Сергей Николаевич Булгаков), The Orthodox Church. Cahill Thomas, The Gift of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels. New York, 1999. Crouch Colin, Post-Democracy. Blackwell, 2004. Fukuyama Yoshihiro Francis, The End of History and the Last Man. Chicago, 1992. GIRNIUS Juozas, Žmogus be Dievo (The Human without God). Vilnius, 1964. Lewis Clive Staples, Man or Rabbit? Cannot you Lead a Good Life without Believing in Christianity? HYPERLINK “http://www.pseudobook.com/csLewis/wp-content/uploads/2006/09/manorrabbit. pdf” http://www.pseudobook.com/csLewis/wp-content/uploads/2006/09/manorrabbit.pdf Needham Nick, Augustine of Hippo: The Relevance of his Life and Thought Today. HYPERLINK “http://www. sbts.edu/pdf/sbjt/SBJT_2008Summer4.pdf” http://www.sbts.edu/pdf/sbjt/SBJT_2008Summer4. pdf Rorty Richard – Vattimo Gianni, The Future of Religion. Columbia, 2005. Schaeffer Francis August, Death in the City. Chicago, 1969. Trimondi Victoria – Trimondi Victor, Der Schatten des Dalai Lama: Sexualität, Magie und Politik im tibetischen Buddhismus (The Shadow of the Dalai Lama: Sexuality, Magic and Politics in Tibetan Buddhism). Düsseldorf, 1999. Rorty Richard – Vattimo Gianni, The Future of Religion. Columbia, 2005. Cahill Thomas, The Gift of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels. New York, 1999. Auerbach Erich, Mimesis: Dargestellte Wirklichkeit in der abendländischen Literatur (Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature). Istanbul, 1946. Lewis C.S., Man or Rabbit? Cannot You Lead a Good Life without Believing in Christianity? HYPERLINK “http://www.pseudobook.com/csLewis/wp-content/uploads/2006/09/manorrabbit.pdf” http:// www.pseudobook.com/csLewis/wp-content/uploads/2006/09/manorrabbit.pdf. Assmann Jan, Die Mosaische Unterscheidung oder der Preis der Freiheit. München–Wien, 2003. GIRNIUS Juozas, Žmogus be Dievo (The Human without God). Vilnius, 1964. Schaeffer Francis August, Death in the City. Chicago, 1969. Trimondi Victoria – Trimondi Victor, Der Schatten des Dalai Lama: Sexualität, Magie und Politik im tibetischen Buddhismus (The Shadow of the Dalai Lama: Sexuality, Magic and Politics in Tibetan Buddhism). Düsseldorf, 1999. Bulgakov Sergei Nikolaevich (Сергей Николаевич Булгаков), The Orthodox Church. London, 1935. Needham Nick, Augustine of Hippo: The Relevance of his Life and Thought Today. HYPERLINK “http://www. sbts.edu/pdf/sbjt/SBJT_2008Summer4.pdf” http://www.sbts.edu/pdf/sbjt/SBJT_2008Summer4. pdf Fukuyama Yoshihiro Francis, The End of History and the Last Man. Chicago, 1992. Dahrendorf Ralf Gustav, Die Globalisierung und ihre sozialen Folgen werden zur nächsten Herausforderung einer Politik der Freiheit. Die Zeit 1997/47. Koyzis David T., Political Visions and Illusions: A Survey and Christian Critique of Contemporary Ideologies. Downers Grove, 2003 Crouch Colin, Post-Democracy. Blackwell, 2004. KURZWEIL Raymond, The Age of Spiritual Machines: When Computers Exceed Human Intelligence. New York, 2004.
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Nagypál Szabolcs
Proselytism and Religious Freedom: The Case of Russia, Ukraine and Poland
Religious studies or science of religion is a subject and field of academic research where different denominations can work together peacefully, using similar standardised scientific methods.1 Thus in this paper we first make an effort to take an even deeper and more profound look at the existence and creative dynamism of commitment and openness to dialogue in some post-Soviet countries, most notably in Russia, especially as regards the situation and state of religious freedom there. Next, another regional case study researches the much-debated effects of Polish Roman Catholicism on the world of the Orthodox Church, especially in the country of Ukraine and in some areas and places in Poland itself, and in connection with the tragic phenomenon of proselytism (sheep-stealing). In the summarising third part we draw possible theoretical consequences from the two case studies.
I. Dilemmas of Religious Freedom in Russia and other Post-Soviet Countries 1. Legal Aspects of Religious Liberty
Important milestones in the legal development of religious freedom in Russia were Tsar Nicholas II’s decree in 1905, as well as the Religious Freedom Acts in 1990 and 1997. It was Tsar Nicholas II’s aforementioned historic legal decree on building and strengthening the foundations of religious tolerance, issued on 17 April 1905,
which “for the first time gave religious minorities the right to hold services openly and to build churches”.2 The statement A Word of Solidarity of the United States (Roman) Catholic Conference (USCC) from 1988 analysed the then-current situation country by country, and made some general proposals for the whole region. But then it happened that the Religious Freedom Act in 1997 in Russia unfortunately replaced the more democratic act of 1990. After more or less closing the issue of the return of Church property, the three most acute problems and crucial questions around religious liberty in the region according to some are enlisted as follows: bureaucracy, the interplay between religion and nationalism, and restrictions on “foreign” religious bodies, on proselytising (sheepstealing) and on so-called religious “sects”.3 Some in-depth analyses of an important Russian legal case (Yakunin versus Dworkin) are offered in the literature, concerning the feelings of some Orthodox leaders against the presence and actions of new religious movements (NRM).4 It is important to emphasise, though, that some of these so-called “new” movements are of course a thousand years older not only than Oriental and Eastern Orthodoxy, but than Christianity as a whole. According to some, religious freedom in the region is determined by the “dominant ethnicification of politics and by the politicisation of culture, required by the prevailing politics of identity”.5 We can define ethnicification by some of its discerning characteristics: first, following this strategy, “ethnic identities of persons and groups are the most important quality”. Then, second, rights and status are given mostly according to ethnic belonging; the state promotes the prosperity of one ethnic community, and thus “ethnic categories are cogent”. Ethnic marks are the “most efficient levers for political mobilisation”; they create a “zero-sum-game with no easy mediation”, and 2 Budkina Irina, Religious Freedom since 1905: Any Progress in Russia? Religion in Eastern Europe 2006/2.
24–27. 24.
http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/budkina.pdf.
3 Powers Gerard F., Religious Liberty: The State Church and Minority Faiths. Commission on Security and
Cooperation in Europe. Religion in Eastern Europe 1996/1. 2–3.
4 Shterin Marat S. – Richardson James T., The Yakunin versus Dworkin Trial and the Emerging Religious
Pluralism in Russia. Religion in Eastern Europe 2002/1. 1–39. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/ undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/yarkvsdwork.doc.
5 Vrcan Srdjan, Proselytism, Religion, and Ethnicification of Politics: A Sociological Analysis. Religion in 1 Filipovych Lyudmyla – Kolodny Anatoly, Theology and Religious Studies in Post-Communist Ukraine:
Historical Sources, Modern Status, and Perspectives of Cooperation. Religion in Eastern Europe 2003/6. 1–20. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/2003/ lyudmyla236.pdf.
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Eastern Europe 1997/5. 5. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ ree/VRCAN2.PRO.doc.
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thus the state promotes and protects a “specific national culture and identity”.6 A significant malfunction of the secular state in general can be nationalism, which according to some means “ethnic identity identified with political power”.7 Indeed, the Church of Jesus Christ and the authentic message of the Gospel in essence is “transnational: it places cultures in a context; and it relativises them as well as legitimates them”.8
2. Religious Revival and Diseases of Growth The individual and spiritual dimension of religious freedom involves our interior life of heart, mind and conscience. Indeed, the legal and integrative side of religious freedom is just one part of the whole picture. It is rather up to the inner maturity, strength, spirituality and wisdom of each individual believer to really make religious freedom a part of the larger society’s living practice. When speaking about religious revival in Russia and in other post-Soviet countries, people usually mean cultural, institutional, personal or individualistic revival. We can read some recent sociological surveys on the latter two issues;9 and we can conclude based on these surveys that while institutional growth in numbers can indeed be largely detected, there is no development within the country as for personal church attendance. Apart from the big metropolises and cities, the rest of Russia remains very resistant to democratic progress in religious life. This phenomenon can be attributed to the following four reasons. In Russia, there were rather “weak religious traditions and activity of the Church during the Soviet period; a small religious community consisting […] of elderly people, without a real influence on the local authority and […] intelligentsia; […] isolation of parish churches from the real life and needs of local residents; local leadership consisting […] of genuine old Communists coming to power by the […] ladder for nomenclature”.10 6 Offe Claus, Der Tunnel am Ende des Lichts (The Tunnel at the End of the Lights). Frankfurt – New
York, 1994. 7 West Charles, The Role of Faith in the Midst of Transformed Societies. Religion in Eastern Europe
2007/4. 2. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/West_Role. Faith.pdf. 8 West Charles, The Role of Faith in the Midst of Transformed Societies. Religion in Eastern Europe
2007/4. 4. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/West_Role. Faith.pdf. 9 Linzey Sharon – Krotov Iakov, The Future of Religion and Religious Freedom in Russia. Religion in
Eastern Europe 2001/5. 1–15. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/socswk/ree/Linzey_The%20Future_Oct%202001.pdf. 10 Skuratovskaya Larisa, Freedom of Religion and the Legal Status of Religion in Russia. Religion in
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Four diseases of growth connected to the liberalisation of religious life can be discerned. The first is the “persistence of the old, rigid, centralised system”: naturally, it remains very resistant to democratic changes, personal enterprise and diversity. The second sickness is that the central religious leadership and élite seeks to solve many problems and difficulties simply by a “monopoly in faith, unification, standardisation, and homogenisation”. The third important illness is that each religious community is “obsessed with its own interests and mentality”. And fourth, this movement leads to “separatism and struggle for properties, historical and museum treasures, buildings, bunkers, and political influence”.11
3. Anti-Ecumenical Trends The intramural and communitarian dimension of religious freedom deals with the human rights of expression and dissent within a particular church, ecclesiastical or religious body and institution. At the same time, the ecumenical dimension of religious freedom calls the participants to encounter, cooperate with, be recognised by and participate in the life and activity of other Christian communions. Unfortunately, we cannot say that the ecumenical movement, aiming for the visible unity of the Christian Church, would be well-accepted among all Orthodox churches and believers, and of course there are reasons for that. Among the important Orthodox reservations concerning the current ecumenical movement, we can enlist proselytism, moral and ethical confusion, ecclesiological difficulties with a conciliar movement, and the centrality of post-Reformation Western debates dominating the common agenda.12 As a consequence, the Basic Principles of the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC), dating from the year 2000, emphasise bearing witness to non-Orthodox Christians as the primary and leading motive for any Orthodox involvement in the ecumenical movement.13 There is at least one thing in common among the so-called “inEastern Europe 1997/2. 8. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ ree/SKURATOV.RUS.doc. 11 Skuratovskaya Larisa, Freedom of Religion and the Legal Status of Religion in Russia. Religion in
Eastern Europe 1997/2. 10. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/socswk/ree/SKURATOV.RUS.doc. 12 Kishkovsky Leonid, Orthodoxy and Ecumenism in Eastern Europe Today. Religion in Eastern Europe
2000/3. 9., 11. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/ Kishkovsky_Orthodoxy_June%202000.pdf. 13 Sawatsky Walter, Russian Orthodoxy Faces Issues of the Day and of the Century: Church and Society,
Religious Pluralism, Martyrs and Mission. Religion in Eastern Europe 2002/2. 9. http://www. georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/sawatsky_rof.doc.
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vading sectarians”, meaning this time the relative newcomer Protestant churches, and the dominant religious institutions in Russia: they both engage in “mutual anti-ecumenical demonisation”.14 In the depth of all these behaviours a deeply rooted feeling of insecurity lies, of course from both parts. But societies should be more and more aware that they, “at whatever scale or level, must achieve both stability and diversity, if they are to be tolerant”.15 Furthermore, the interreligious or interfaith dimension of religious freedom would mean a willingness to discover and to respect truth and holiness in other religions as manifestations of the one God. In this last respect, religious communities must honestly and frankly examine their conscience on whether they would defend the liberty and freedom of other religions as earnestly as they would protect their own.
4. Church and State: Search for a New Social Contract We can rightly recognise that the “inclusion of genuine freedom of religion in the Constitution and the creation of laws on religious liberty led to a change in the state–Church relationship”.16 The dangers of favouritising one religion or a given denomination over the others, and thus of binding together Church and state too much, are the “melting of both state and confessional structures, the takeover by the state of religious issues and state clericalism”.17 In the respect of separation of Church and state, we can urge the total and radical “demonopolisation of the religious market” as a necessary prerequisite for democracy and human rights.18 All these aims and goals also require a brand-new political theology developed, for example in Orthodoxy, concerning the “ecclesiasticism of 14 Mojzes Paul, Ecumenism, Evangelism, and Religious Liberty. Religion in Eastern Europe 1996/2. 3.
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the state”.19 It can be done and achieved, for instance, by reworking some political categories such as the concepts of the nation or of the state, which have gained theological and ecclesiastic connotations during the course of history. In these political and national environments, situations and circumstances, the Christian Church must “map out its own terrain again and thoroughly”.20 A (new) social contract can be defined, for example, as a general understanding within a society of the “need to institutionalise public policies to the benefit of this society as a whole: the common good”.21 The grave question for the various believers in connection with this hopefully emerging new social contract is how to integrate themselves and other people who are similar to them into the existing social community. In order to achieve this, they must follow its orientation, motivation, regulatory and legal norms, while not destroying the integrity and autonomy of their faith.22
II. Questions of Proselytism in Ukraine and Poland
1. Historical Background for Religious Conflicts in the Region Let us now have a look at another post-Soviet state, namely Ukraine. The historical background for the present-day religious conflicts in Central and Eastern Europe is important to get to know in order to understand better the problems of our age; thus the five crucial historical dates concerning Ukraine and Poland are the following. First, the union of Brest-Litovsk (1596), then the three partitions of Poland (1772, 1792 and 1795), the role of Lviv in Ukrainian nationalism, the Second World War (1939–1945) and the Council of Lvov (1946), and finally, the papacy of the ethnic Pole pope, John Paul II (1978–2005).
http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Mojzes_Ecumenism_ April%201996.pdf. 15 Peachey Paul, Intolerance and Tolerance are Historical Phenomena. Religion in Eastern Europe
1990/2. 1. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Peachey_ Intolerance.pdf.
19 Djurić Marko P., From Religious Tolerance to Mutual Cooperation in the Balkans. Religion in Eastern
Europe 1999/2. 14. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/ Djuric_From%20Religious_April%201999.pdf.
16 Földesi Tamás, The Main Problems of Religious Freedom in Eastern Europe. Religion in Eastern Europe
1994/5. 7. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Foldesi_ Main%20Problems.pdf.
20 Hromádka Josef, Church–State Relationship in a Changing Society. Religion in Eastern Europe, Volume
X, Number 4, October 1990. 4. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/socswk/ree/Hromadka_Church-State.pdf.
17 Girard Christine, Amendments to the Russian Religious Freedom Law and the Rule of Law in Russia (in
1990). Religion in Eastern Europe 1990/6. 10. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/ departments/soc-swk/ree/Girard_Amendments.pdf.
21 Rijnierse Elly: Effective Participation of Minorities and Peoples: Cases from Central and Eastern Europe.
From ‘Government’ to ‘Governance’: From a National Social Contract to a Global Social Contract. In Vergouwe Suzanna – Šajda Peter – Nagypál Szabolcs (eds.), The River Book: Identity, Culture and Responsibility. Ecumenical Anthology II of the World Student Christian Federation (WSCF) Central European Subregion. Białystok, 2003. 45. http://www.koed.hu/river/elly.pdf.
18 Slavkovský Adrián: Credit Cards of the Holy and Dirty Money of Faith: The Shapes of Religion in
Contemporary Society. In Nagypál Szabolcs – Blocksome Rebecca – Šajda Peter (eds.), Dreaming our Neighbour: The Shoa and the Utopiæ of Yesterday. Ecumenical Anthology V of the World Student Christian Federation (WSCF) Central European Subregion. Warszawa, 2006. 124. http://www.koed. hu/neighbour/adrian.pdf.
22 Živković Gordana, Is Religious Freedom Possible? (tr. Stojičević Jelena). Religion in Eastern Europe,
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2004/2. 3. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/2004/zivkovic.pdf.
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Between 988 and 1686 Orthodoxy in Ukraine was carried on under the auspices of Constantinople; then this responsibility was transferred to Moscow. It was the mentioned union of Brest-Litovsk in 1596 that finally established the Greek Catholic Church in this region by causing a part of the Orthodox Church to join Rome. It was followed by similar church unions in the Austro-Hungarian Empire in 1646, in Transylvania in 1698, in Armenia in 1742, in Syria in 1742 and finally in Egypt in 1895. Poland was divided among her greedy neighbours, the empires of Russia, Prussia and Austria, in three successive partitions (1772, 1792 and 1795). In the part belonging to Russia, in addition to the ethnic conflict, the antagonism took the shape of an Orthodox – Roman Catholic conflict as well. In the XIXth century, the region around the city of Lviv (Львів, Lvov, Львов, Lemberg, Leopolis) became the breeding ground of a new Ukrainian patriotism and nationalism: its people spoke predominantly Ukrainian. They were also very religious, as well as loyal to the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church. Even though their whole liturgy was still in Church Slavonic language, they nevertheless rightly “counted themselves among the Vatican’s most loyal subjects”.23 After the Second World War (1939–1945), by drawing new borders and re-mapping the region, the Soviet Union incorporated a great swathe of what had been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and then (after 1918) of Poland. Brest-Litovsk was (temporarily) rescinded in 1946 by the ruling communist power in an Orthodox reunion synod, the so-called Council of Lvov. Similar events happened in Poland, where, interestingly and because of the different circumstances, most Greek (Byzantine) Catholic properties went to the majority Latin-rite Roman Catholic Church.24 When the Roman Catholic Church in 1978 surprisingly elected one of the Polish bishops, Karol Józef Wojtyła, to be the next bishop of Rome, thus making him the first non-Italian pope for centuries, it was interpreted by many Poles as a sign of a renewed Roman Catholic mission in the region. And indeed, in the statements of Pope John Paul II the vitality of the Polish Church was often depicted as opposing the crisis of the other Western churches, and it was expected that Poland would serve as a source of inspiration for the second (or re-) evangelisation of the continent of Europe. 23 Bourdeaux Michael, The Christian Voice in Ukrainian Elections. Religion in Eastern Europe 2005/1. 3.
http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/2005/bourdeaux.pdf. 24 Loya Joseph A. OSA, Interchurch Relations in Post-Perestroika (Central and) Eastern Europe: A Short
History of an Ecumenical Meltdown. Religion in Eastern Europe 1992/1. 7. http://www.georgefox. edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Loya_Interchurch.pdf.
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2. Orthodox and Roman Catholic Churches in Poland It should be emphasised that the very “idea that only one confession could exist in one state was not native to the Central European countries; it was inflamed by external political conflict”.25 In one view, the Poles sometimes have not been exempt from the temptation of attributing to themselves a messianic mission in history;26 thus such a theology and spirituality might many times well be a prop for intolerance and even discrimination against ethnic and religious minorities. The Roman Catholic Church in Poland, not unlike many other churches and denominations in the region, is presently undergoing what is perhaps the “deepest crisis in its thousand-year history”.27 The ever more diminishing social support for the Roman Catholic Church in Poland might stem from the “failure of the Church to fulfil its implicit functions”.28 It seems that many times the Church does not meet the requirements of the changing contemporary socio-political situation in Poland. Since Poland regained its freedom, approximately eighty percent of the Ukrainians in Poland now belong to the Byzantine-rite Roman Catholic Church and to the Polish Autocephalous Orthodox Church.29 Despite initial protests from some groups of parishioners, the Autocephalous Orthodox Church and the Greek Catholic Church have been recognised by the authorities and finally both have been granted official legal status. The latter church obtained its first bishop, Jan Martyniak, in 1989, who became at the same time one of the auxiliary bishops to the Primate of Poland.30 Thus the position to which the smaller 25 Wilson Kate: Klejnot swobodnego sumnienia – the Jewel of Freedom of Conscience: Churches together in
Central Europe after the Reformation. In Nagypál Szabolcs – Šajda Peter (eds.), A Pentatonic Landscape: Central Europe, Ecology, Ecumenism. Ecumenical Anthology I of the World Student Christian Federation (WSCF) Central European Subregion. Budapest, 2002. 147. http://www.koed.hu/penta/kate.pdf.
26 Chrostowski Waldemar, The Suffering, Chosenness and Mission of the Polish Nation. Religion in
Eastern Europe 1994/1. 1. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ ree/Chrostowski_Suffering.pdf. 27 Szczypiorski Andrzej, A Roman Catholic Fortress (Katolick Pevnost) (tr. Satterwhite James). Religion
in Eastern Europe 1992/1. 1. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/socswk/ree/Szczypiorski_Catholic%20Fortress.pdf. 28 Grzymala-Moszczynska Halina, Factors Affecting Unconditional Acceptance of the Institution of the
Church in Poland. Religion in Eastern Europe 1991/1. 1. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/ undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Moszczynska_Factors%20Affecting.pdf.
29 Mironowicz Antoni, National Minorities in Poland Today. In Nagypál Szabolcs – Šajda Peter (eds.), A
Pentatonic Landscape: Central Europe, Ecology, Ecumenism. Ecumenical Anthology I of the World Student Christian Federation (WSCF) Central European Subregion. Budapest, 2002. 118. http://www.koed.hu/ penta/antoni.pdf.
30 Pater Dobrosław Karol, Grandiose Visions: Changes in the Roman Catholic Church in Poland after
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churches – including the various Protestant ones – aspire is slowly to be an “insider in spite of being different”.31 But in fact the rule of political symmetry hardly applies to them at all. In the press, indeed, there are sometimes complaints from Orthodox members that they feel heavily discriminated against.32
3. Current Schisms in the Ukrainian Church The Ukrainian church, perhaps even more than in most other countries in the region, must always keep in mind that it lives in the power triad of Rome, Constantinople and Moscow.33 At the moment there are three Orthodox churches in Ukraine: first, the Ukrainian Orthodox Church – Kyiv Patriarchate (UOC–KP); then, the Ukrainian Orthodox Autocephalous Church (UOAC); and finally, the Ukrainian Orthodox Church – Moscow Patriarchate (UOC–MP). In addition there is one Byzantine Catholic Church, the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church (UGCC). The schism of Philaret Denysenko (1929–) in the early 1990s was supported by political forces as well, especially by then-President Leonid Makarovych Kravchuk (Леонід Макарович Кравчук, 1934–); this fact allowed it to acquire significant numbers. The next political administration, however, under the leadership of Leonid Danylovych Kuchma (Леонід Данилович Кучма, 1938–) decided to support the Ukrainian Orthodox Church – Moscow Patriarchate (UOC–MP).34 The fierce opposition of the two powerful political forces led to the so-called Black Tuesday on 18 July 1995, when police units beat participants in the funeral procession of Patriarch Volodymyr (Romaniuk) (1925–1995). When describing the immensely tragic schisms in the Ukrainian Orthodox Church, we should emphasise here that compared to the group headed by Patriarch Philaret (Denysenko), 1989. Religion in Eastern Europe 1992/1. 3–4. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/ departments/soc-swk/ree/Pater_Grandiose.pdf. 31 Grzymala-Moszczynska Halina, Established Religion versus New Religions: Social Perception and
Legal Consequences. Religion in Eastern Europe 1996/2. 3. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/ undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Grzymala_Established_April%201996.pdf.
32 Gorniak-Kocikowska Krystyna, Tensions in Poland over Ecumenical Dialogue. Religion in Eastern
Europe 2008/1. 9. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/ Tensions%20in%20Poland_Gorniak-Kocikowska.pdf. 33 Cava Ralph Della, Assessing Pope John Paul II’s Visit to Ukraine in 2001. Religion in Eastern Europe
2001/5. 6. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/DellaCava_ Assessing.pdf. 34 Plokhy Serhii, Church, State and Nation in Ukraine (between 1991 and 1996) (tr. Yurkevich Myroslav).
Religion in Eastern Europe 1999/5. 17–24. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/ departments/soc-swk/ree/Plokhy_Church_Oct%201999.pdf.
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the Ukrainian autocephalists are significantly weaker as well as smaller in number.35 An important factor in the future may be that in general “monastics in Ukraine, nuns and monks, remained loyal to the Moscow Patriarchate; not passing over to the Kiev Patriarchate, the Autocephalists or even the Greek Catholics”.36 Thus the several Roman Catholic monasteries scattered across the country had to invite and settle citizens of various other countries, mostly Poles, in the territory of Ukraine. Apart from the Greek Catholic rite, Catholicism is also present in Ukraine in its Latin form, resulting in an ever-growing presence of Polish Catholic priests in the country. This phenomenon, together with the “setting up of parallel Roman Catholic ecclesiastical structures”, just increases the tension between these two branches of Catholicism.37 After centuries of separation, in 1965 the mutual lifting of the anathemas or excommunications dating back to the year 1054 finally happened, followed by the establishment of a joint theological commission in 1979. This made it possible that official Orthodox and Roman Catholic representatives could declare in Balamand, Lebanon, in 1993 that uniatism was a method of union of the past. As such, it was deemed an obstacle to the full communion of these two branches of Christianity. All this, however, suscited great worries among Greek Catholics that they would be betrayed and left alone by the Vatican. The much-expected papal visit of Pope John Paul II to Ukraine in the year 2001, however, eased many of these fears and widespread negative feelings from the Greek Catholic side. While retaining religious freedom, most of these churches would desire a “preferential option” from the state.38 But it is clear from the above that Ukraine cannot and does not have a state church. In many post-Soviet countries, but especially in Russia itself, the Russian Orthodox Church (ROC) continues to exhibit an “atavistic suspicion 35 Alfayev Hilarion (Bishop), Orthodoxy in a New Europe: Problems and Perspectives. Europaica 2004/35.
5.; and Religion in Eastern Europe 2004/3. 5. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/ departments/soc-swk/ree/2004/hilarion.pdf. 36 Davis Nathaniel, Hard Data on Russian and Ukrainian Orthodox Churches. Religion in Eastern Europe
2000/6. 10. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Davis_ Hard%20Data.pdf. 37 Roberson Ronald G., The Roman Catholic Church and Reconciliation with the Orthodox in Central
and Eastern Europe. Religion in Eastern Europe 1998/3. 1. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/ undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Roberson_The%20Catholic_June%201998.pdf.
38 Krawchuk Andrii, Religious Life in Ukraine: Continuity and Change. Religion in Eastern Europe
1996/3. 4. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Krawchuk_ Religious_June%201996.pdf.
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of the Roman Catholic Church, and an exaggerated fear of Eastern (Greek) Catholics”.39 There is especially the suspicion and even fear in some circles that perhaps the Polish Roman Catholic Church is exporting its difficulties to other neighbouring countries. Another worry is that, together with the Protestant churches, at the same time they are transferring native Western competitive struggles of various Christian faiths onto Ukrainian soil.
4. Protestantism in Eastern Europe Let us focus now on the Protestant perspective as far as the situation in Ukraine is concerned.40 One of the reasons for the tremendous success of the growth of Protestantism in Ukraine is the described tripartite division of the Orthodox Church.41 According to some estimates, there were approximately seven to fourteen million Orthodox, four to five million Greek Catholics and three to six million Protestants among the fifty-two-million population of Ukraine in the year 1992, just after the long-awaited dissolution of the Soviet Union.42 The freedom after 1990 caused a culture shock to many of the Central and Eastern European citizens. One of the characteristics of culture shock (as described by Ogden in 1960) is the following: in general, culture shock means the “mutual rejection of newcomers by traditional culture, and rejection of old traditional culture by newcomers with attendant feelings of discomfort, disgust, and anxiety”.43 According to some, Orthodoxy might not be totally ready for theological competition either: with its central task in preserving religious tradition, a developmental gap or theological lag has been created when encountering a competitive situation in modernity. First, we have to deeply understand and thoroughly analyse tradition: it is 39 Loya Joseph A. OSA, Report on the Roman Catholic Church in Eastern Europe. Religion in Eastern
Europe 1997/2. 1. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/ Loya_Report_April%201997.pdf. 40 Sawatsky Walter, Impressions from Travelling in Russia, Ukraine and Central Asia in Spring 1999.
Religion in Eastern Europe 1999/4. 1–11. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/ departments/soc-swk/ree/Sawatsky_Impressions_Aug%201999.pdf. 41 Herlihy Patricia, Crisis in Society and Religion in Ukraine. Religion in Eastern Europe 1992/1. 4.
http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Herlihy_Crisis.pdf. 42 Herlihy Patricia, Crisis in Society and Religion in Ukraine. Religion in Eastern Europe 1992/1. 3.
http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Herlihy_Crisis.pdf. 43 Grzymala-Moszczynska Halina, Poland as Cross-cultural Context: Theology and Economics in Transition
from the Communist to the Post-Communist Era. Religion in Eastern Europe 1990/1. 1. http://www. georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Moszczynska_Poland.pdf.
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most of all a socio-cultural transmission to preserve, reproduce and develop culture.44 Its aim is to socialise new generations and stabilise social relations and cohesion. It forms a collective character with a high level of consistency, while codifying the life experience of human groups. According to some, further reasons for losing the battle include dependence on the protection of the state and damages suffered during Communism.45 Other reasons may be the lack of proper theological response to the phenomena of democracy and human rights, and the low level of theological education coupled with Christian illiteracy among believers, as well as financial and social difficulties. Proselytism is at the same time carried out at the level of the emerging lay and civil society, as well as in the world of our everyday experience.46 In order to finally and firmly avoid any kind of mutual proselytism, some have called for adopting “joint commissions, which will examine the passage of faithful from one church to another, guided by the principles of respect for freedom of conscience, transparency, respect and acknowledgment of the other tradition, and which would deal with each case with pastoral consideration and prudence”.47
III. Proselytism and Religious Freedom 1. Corruption of Witness
After the thorough analysis of the Russian, Ukrainian and Polish situation, the important term to consider here in a deeper and more systematic way is the concept of proselytism, which has changed its meaning quite a lot, almost from one point to its complete opposite. In Biblical times (coming from the Greek phrase who comes towards) it basically meant a person who became a member of the Jewish community by believing in YHWH and respecting the Law of Moses. The word itself occurs only four times in the New Testament, 44 Kolodniy Anatoly, Traditional Faiths in Ukraine and Missionary Activity. Religion in Eastern Europe
2000/1. 1. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Kolodniy_ Traditional_Feb%202000.pdf. 45 Marynovitch Myrosolav, Toward Religious Freedom in Ukraine: Indigenous Churches and Foreign
Missionaries. Religion in Eastern Europe 1990/5. 7., 11. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/ undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Marynovitch_Toward_Oct%202000.pdf.
46 Vrcan Srdjan, Proselytism, Religion, and Ethnicification of Politics: A Sociological Analysis. Religion in
Eastern Europe 1997/5. 4. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ ree/VRCAN2.PRO.doc. 47 (Jubilee) Velehrad Congress, A Communiqué: Towards a Deeper Solidarity among Christians in Europe
(on 1 July, 2007). Religion in Eastern Europe 2007/3. 2. http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/ undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/2007/congress_communique.pdf.
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once in Matthew and thrice in the Acts of the Apostles. Among others, proselytes were present at the event of Pentecost.48 Jesus Christ condemns the Pharisees, and when enlisting their sins, he mentions that they cross sea and land to make a single proselyte, but then they make this new convert twice as much a child of hell as themselves.49 When the first Apostles selected seven persons of good standing, full of the Holy Spirit and wisdom, whom they appointed, by laying their hands on them, to the task of waiting on tables, one of them was Nicolaus, a proselyte from the city of Antioch.50 Finally, it is mentioned that many Jews and also many devout proselytes followed the apostles Paul and Barnabas, who spoke to them and urged them to continue their life in the grace of God.51 The Early Church continued to use the term, but gave it another meaning, parallel with the extension of the phrase people of God from Jews, the people and nation of Israel, to all Christians. In those times, proselytism started to mean a person of another faith who converted to Christianity by changing her or his religion, turning towards and joining Christianity. Some centuries later, in the Christian ecumenical movement, the term gradually received a very different meaning, close to the one of sheep-stealing.52 In contemporary vocabulary we are not speaking anymore about individuals marked by the name proselyte, but rather processes of churches, denoting their activity, with the suffix -ism. The Christian Witness, Proselytism and Religious Liberty (CWPRL, 1961) document defines the term proselytism as the corruption of witness, specifically in its purpose, motive and spirit.53 This is quite a broad and lax definition, embracing all kinds of false witnesses. The meaning of the term is slightly narrowed by the later Common Witness and Proselytism (CWP, 1970) document. It circumscribes the word as a conglomerate of different kinds of improper attitudes, mentalities and behaviours.54 What connects them is that they fundamentally violate the right of the human being, either Christian or 48 Acts 2,10. 49 Matthew 23,15. 50 Acts 6,5. 51 Acts 13,43. 52 Horner Norman A., The Problem of Intra-Christian Proselytism. International Review of Mission (IRM)
1981/3. 304–313. 53 Christian Witness, Proselytism and Religious Liberty (CWPRL, 1961). In Fry Franklin Clark (ed.),
Evanston to New Delhi (1954–1961): Report of the Central Committee to the Third Assembly of the World Council of Churches (WCC). Genève, 1961. 239–245.
54 Common Witness and Proselytism (CWP, 1970). The Ecumenical Review 1971/1. 9–20.
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non-Christian, to be free from external coercion in various religious matters. It is obvious that in this stage proselytism is understood as the opposite of religious freedom. Especially remarkable is the fact that it includes non-Christians as well, using for them the contemporary term people of other living faiths. Of course it does not exclude, forbid or even discourage mission as such, but calls forth the responsibility of believers to conduct it in a fair and honest manner, free of coercion on others. The Common Witness (CW, 1982) document keeps and reiterates this meaning, with some alterations: proselytism also violates the right to be free not just from mainly external coercion, but also from moral restraint, as well as from different psychical and psychological pressures.55 The first document to sharpen the term for Christians is The Challenge of Proselytism and the Calling to Common Witness (CPCCW, 1996), stating that proselytism is the collective noun for all conscious efforts of Christians with the intent to win adherents from other Christian communities.56 This is also the very first place to use the word conversely to common witness. The most elaborate and accurate definition of this concept is to be found in the ecumenical document Towards Common Witness: A Call to Adopt Responsible Relationships in Mission and to Renounce Proselytism (TCW, 1997). It uses the word to denote the encouragement of Christians to change their denominational allegiance.57 But it applies only when this happens through certain ways and means that strongly contradict the spirit of Christian love and charity, violate the freedom of the human being, and greatly diminish trust in the Christian witness of the Church of Jesus Christ. In this broader sense, proselytism is in fundamental opposition to ecumenism, to the ecumenical movement and thinking, to religious freedom and liberty, and also to the common and therefore Christian witness in Russia, in Ukraine, in Poland, or elsewhere in the world.
55 Common Witness (CW, 1982). The Secretariat for Promoting Christian Unity–Information Service
1982/3–4. 142–162.
III. Central Europe: A Responsible Identity
2. Liberty and Responsibility The widespread concept of religious freedom places the question of common witness in the communal context of the various world religions and the different Christian denominations, and on the other hand in the personal context of free will as well as of human individuality and one’s own personality. There are at least six main facets of religious freedom that can be discerned: these phenomena are the legal or juridical, the integrative or integral, the individual or spiritual, the intramural or communitarian, the ecumenical or interdenominational, and finally the interreligious or interfaith dimensions.58 From among these, the legal or juridical dimension of religious freedom and liberty is defined by law and regulation in constitutions and statutes, and advocated in international covenants and declarations, as well as in Church and ecclesial pronouncements and documents. The integral and integrative component of religious freedom is inextricably linked to some other basic and important human rights, and of course human responsibilities. In its definition of religious freedom, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR, issued and ratified in 1948) was influenced by contemporary theological views, schools and movements. On the other hand, it also had a great impact on the later development of Christian self-understandings, for example on the Second Vatican Council of the Roman Catholic Church. The paragraph to be quoted here in this respect is a beautifully elaborated and eloquent one, which goes as follows: “Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion. This right includes the freedom to change the religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others, and in public or in private, to manifest this religion or belief, in teaching, practice, worship and observance.”59 When the CWP (1970) document mentions this whole definition, it does not miss adding a very important phrase to the last sentence: everyone has the right to manifest religion also “in social action”. This addition signals the explicit turnover of the current theological way of thinking towards social (and sometimes political and sociological) issues as well, since they should be – and step by step they are indeed – on the agenda of every religion and denomination, according to the present understanding. Every right, however, always has a counterpart, which is usually a
56 The Challenge of Proselytism and the Calling to Common Witness (CPCCW, 1996). The Ecumenical
Review 1996/2. 212–221. 57 Towards Common Witness: A Call to Adopt Responsible Relationships in Mission and to Renounce
Proselytism (TCW, 1997). Genève, 1997.
58 Geyer Alan, Pluralism and Religious Freedom. Religion in Eastern Europe 1995/4. 3–9. http://www.
georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Geyer_Pluralism.pdf. 59 Littell Franklin H., A Response to the Decree on Religious Freedom (Dignitatis Humanæ, 1965). In
Abbott Walter M. SI (ed.), The Documents of Vatican II (1962–1965). New York, 1966. 697–700.
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moral and ethical duty and responsibility. The Second Vatican Council explicitly formulated this responsibility when it dealt with human dignity. The main document in this respect is Dignitatis Humanæ: Declaration on the Right of the Person and of Communities to Social and Civil Freedom in Matters Religious (DH, 1965). According to this document, the other side of religious freedom in this setting is the common human responsibility to seek and search for the truth ceaselessly and without sparing any effort – especially since people have reason, they have conscience, and moreover they have free will. The Nairobi Statement of the WCC from the year 1975 completes this picture, adding that people also have a common human responsibility to serve the whole community that they are members of and that they belong to either by blood, by history, by culture or by their own personal decision. In summary, we can say here that the ecumenical progress achieved thus far has been somewhat jeopardised by the freedom that was finally reached after the collapse of communist dictatorship. According to some insights, its ultimate result has been the “weakening of all three factors: ecumenism, evangelisation of the unchurched, and religious liberty”.60
Holger Lahayne
Law and Responsibility from a Reformed Perspective
The rule of law is one of the cornerstones of a democratic society. If the law is not king, which means above those in government, there may be fair elections, but we do not have democracy in the truest sense. There is a broad consensus that laws are important and must be honoured. In this regard, people mostly think about the positive law of a state, passed by parliaments. But what about the moral law, the law of God? Are we as citizens under the law of God? This is quite a controversial question, and usually this is denied, even by many Christians. Who are we that we dare to impose our moral thinking on other, non-believing, people? Is the moral law still valid, and for whom?
I. Law First of all, we have to keep in mind an important distinction. The Second Helvetic Confession says: “For the sake of clarity we distinguish the moral law, which is contained in the Decalogue or two Tablets and expounded in the books of Moses; the ceremonial law, which determines the ceremonies and worship of God; and the judicial law, which is concerned with political and domestic matters.”1 The ceremonial and judicial law are not binding anymore, but the moral law still exists. Concerning this, the confession confirms: “We teach that the will of God is explained for us in the law of God, what God wills or does not will us to do, what is good and just, or what is evil and unjust.”2 The moral law defines what is good, evil, just or moral. The Westminster Confession calls it, therefore, a “perfect rule of righteousness”.3 There is a broad Biblical foundation for this claim, because the eternity of God’s moral law is confirmed many times.4 Especially the Calvinist-Reformed tradition emphasises that this 1 Second Helvetic Confession. XII,1. 60 Mojzes Paul, Ecumenism, Evangelism, and Religious Liberty. Religion in Eastern Europe 1996/2. 4.
http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Mojzes_Ecumenism_ April%201996.pdf.
202
2 Second Helvetic Confession. XII,2 3 Westminster Confession. 19,2. 4 See for example Ps 19,9–10; 105,8; 111,7–8; 119,98.111–112.142.144.151–125.160; Isa 30,8–9; Mt 5,18; Lk 16,17.
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moral and ethical duty and responsibility. The Second Vatican Council explicitly formulated this responsibility when it dealt with human dignity. The main document in this respect is Dignitatis Humanæ: Declaration on the Right of the Person and of Communities to Social and Civil Freedom in Matters Religious (DH, 1965). According to this document, the other side of religious freedom in this setting is the common human responsibility to seek and search for the truth ceaselessly and without sparing any effort – especially since people have reason, they have conscience, and moreover they have free will. The Nairobi Statement of the WCC from the year 1975 completes this picture, adding that people also have a common human responsibility to serve the whole community that they are members of and that they belong to either by blood, by history, by culture or by their own personal decision. In summary, we can say here that the ecumenical progress achieved thus far has been somewhat jeopardised by the freedom that was finally reached after the collapse of communist dictatorship. According to some insights, its ultimate result has been the “weakening of all three factors: ecumenism, evangelisation of the unchurched, and religious liberty”.60
Holger Lahayne
Law and Responsibility from a Reformed Perspective
The rule of law is one of the cornerstones of a democratic society. If the law is not king, which means above those in government, there may be fair elections, but we do not have democracy in the truest sense. There is a broad consensus that laws are important and must be honoured. In this regard, people mostly think about the positive law of a state, passed by parliaments. But what about the moral law, the law of God? Are we as citizens under the law of God? This is quite a controversial question, and usually this is denied, even by many Christians. Who are we that we dare to impose our moral thinking on other, non-believing, people? Is the moral law still valid, and for whom?
I. Law First of all, we have to keep in mind an important distinction. The Second Helvetic Confession says: “For the sake of clarity we distinguish the moral law, which is contained in the Decalogue or two Tablets and expounded in the books of Moses; the ceremonial law, which determines the ceremonies and worship of God; and the judicial law, which is concerned with political and domestic matters.”1 The ceremonial and judicial law are not binding anymore, but the moral law still exists. Concerning this, the confession confirms: “We teach that the will of God is explained for us in the law of God, what God wills or does not will us to do, what is good and just, or what is evil and unjust.”2 The moral law defines what is good, evil, just or moral. The Westminster Confession calls it, therefore, a “perfect rule of righteousness”.3 There is a broad Biblical foundation for this claim, because the eternity of God’s moral law is confirmed many times.4 Especially the Calvinist-Reformed tradition emphasises that this 1 Second Helvetic Confession. XII,1. 60 Mojzes Paul, Ecumenism, Evangelism, and Religious Liberty. Religion in Eastern Europe 1996/2. 4.
http://www.georgefox.edu/academics/undergrad/departments/soc-swk/ree/Mojzes_Ecumenism_ April%201996.pdf.
202
2 Second Helvetic Confession. XII,2 3 Westminster Confession. 19,2. 4 See for example Ps 19,9–10; 105,8; 111,7–8; 119,98.111–112.142.144.151–125.160; Isa 30,8–9; Mt 5,18; Lk 16,17.
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law is for every human being on Earth. God’s law is universal, because it has its foundation in the character of the Creator: “God’s commands are God’s propositional statements about God’s character. They are not arbitrary. God has a character, and God’s character is the law of the Universe.”5 If everything is made by God, then everything belongs to God and is used rightly only when it is used in accordance with God’s will: “Because God is the Creator and absolute Possessor of all people”, God is the “moral Governor of all moral agents”. And “if the glory of God is the chief end of every people, it must be the chief end equally of all nations and communities of people”.6 The “moral law doth forever bind all, justified persons as well as others, to the obedience thereof”.7 “God is the only legislator. Earthly rulers and legislative bodies are alike accountable to God from Whom stems all obligation – religious, ethical and civil.”8 We could quote numerous verses from the Old and New Testament to prove this doctrine: “Fear God and keep God’s commandments, for this is the whole duty of [every] people.”9 Often it is not directly stated, but implicit. God is the “judge of all the Earth”,10 and God’s moral law suits every nation: “The law will go out from me; my justice will become a light to the nations.”11 Every nation is under the obligation to obey God: “For the nation or kingdom that will not serve you will perish; it will be utterly ruined.”12 Or even more strictly: “If a country sins against me by being unfaithful, I stretch out my hand against it.”13 “Righteousness exalts a nation, but sin is disgrace to any people.”14 Not any righteousness, not any understanding of sin, but according to God’s standard and God’s definition: “The ethics of the Old Testament is universal and proclaims the same standard of justice for all nations of the Earth as for Israel. The authors never assumed that the law, justice or the good they received as truth was to be applied or valid in a certain corner or reserved for Israel alone.”15 If we do not keep in mind these principles, it is hard to make real sense of many Old Testament stories. Why was Nebuchadnez5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15
Joshua and the Flow of Biblical History. Hodge A. A., Evangelical Theology. Westminster Confession. 19,5. Henry Carl F. H., Twilight of a Great Civilization. Ecc. 12,13. Gen. 18,25. Isa. 51,4. Isa. 60,12. Ez. 14,13. Pr. 14,34. Kaiser Walter C., Toward Old Testament Ethics.
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zar punished so strictly? He was proud of his “mighty power”16 and
did not want to acknowledge that the “Most High is sovereign over the kingdoms of the Earth and gives them to anyone God wishes”.17 “Heaven rules” – this he had to accept wholeheartedly. Daniel admonishes him: “Renounce your sins by doing what is right, and your wickedness by being kind to the oppressed.”18 The same was said to the kings of Israel and Judah, and the same is required from everyone: “to act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God”.19 The basic moral standards are the same everywhere, because God is the same. Even now the Church must proclaim God’s standard of justice: “The message of salvation implies also a message of judgment upon every form of alienation, oppression and discrimination, and we should not be afraid to denounce evil and injustice wherever they exist.”20 At this point many will refer to the separation of Church and state: any kind of Christian or religious law as a basis for positive law violates this principle, it is often said. According to this view, religious convictions have their place in private, but not in the public realm. Believers are, meanwhile, in many societies a minority, it is added; so this minority must not impose its thinking on the rest. For the first time the separation of Church and state was clearly formulated in the First Amendment to the United States Constitution: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof,” the text begins. The amendment prohibits the establishment of a national religion by Congress or the preference of one religion over another. Thomas Jefferson called this in a letter of 1802 a “wall of separation” between Church and state. The evangelical Christians who helped to shape this ‘doctrine’ wished to deny government the right to interfere in the Church. But they never had in mind a society free from all responsibility to God. It is often forgotten that the separation itself has its roots in the Bible – Church and worldly authority are different kinds of government and authority. As we saw, the king (or the state) is not, as in most ancient empires, the mediator of salvation. Salvation is the Church’s business. The king in Israel was not in charge of the priest and was not himself acting as a priest. When a king nevertheless did the job of a priest, as did Uzziah, king of Judah, he was harshly criticized: High Priest Azariah and other priests “confronted him and said: ‘It is not right for you, Uzziah, to 16 17 18 19 20
Dan. 4,28. Dan. 4,25. Dan. 4,27. Mic. 6,8. Lausanne Covenant. 5.
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burn incense to the Lord. That is for the priests, the descendants of Aaron. […] Leave the sanctuary, for you have been unfaithful’.”21 We have many further examples for this consistent distinction: Moses, the lawgiver, and Aaron, the high priest; Nehemiah, the governor, and Ezra, the priest; the double administration;22 two kinds of taxes (the tithe for God, and the taxes for the king); two kinds of anointing;23 two central buildings (the “House of the Lord”, the temple, and “the house of the king”, the royal palace).24 In the New Testament Jesus Christ says: “Give to Cæsar what is Cæsar’s and to God what is God’s.”25 The ancients, in contrast, saw the state as inseparable from religion. The Greek and Roman gods were worshiped mainly as defenders of empire, nation or city. Politics was deeply intermingled with religion. Before every important affair of state, the Romans sought the will of the gods. Most important was the orderly offering of sacrifices; this became a symbol of one’s respect for the state and appreciation for tradition (not a sign of one’s personal belief). Augustus himself led a restoration of religion, building 82 temples in Rome alone. He (and his successors) assumed the post of high priest (pontifex maximus). In 12 BC a temple to the goddess Vesta was consecrated in the royal palace. The Vesta rites were central in Rome, so that the religious centre of the Empire was the domicile of Augustus. Thus, the very notion of the secular originated in Christianity: “The most truly Christian state understands itself most thoroughly as secular,” and “the corresponding term to ‘secular’ is not ‘sacred’, nor ‘spiritual’, but ‘eternal’.”26 The state is not eternal, Rome is not eternal, there will be a time when all nations and monarchs and government will disappear – but not so the kingdom of God. And the (invisible) Church is eternal. A. Kuyper supported this separation; he denied the state the right to interfere (too much) in the area of education. He founded the Free University in Amsterdam – free from state intervention. But he also wholeheartedly denied that this kind of healthy separation implies total emancipation from God. Society has to be free from the dominion of any single church, yet still under God. In his Stone Lecture, he says: “Both Church and state must, each in their own sphere, obey God and serve God’s honour.” There are two kingdoms, the “kingdom of the preached Word” 21 22 23 24 25 26
2Chr. 26,18. 2Chr 19,11; 19,8. 1Chr. 29,22. 2Chr. 7,11. Mk. 12,17. O’Donovan O., The Desire of the Nations.
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and the “kingdom of the sword”. These must never be mixed, but they also must not be torn apart. “The Lord of both kingdoms is God, revealed in Jesus Christ. God rules the world through the office of the Word and through the office of the sword. The office-bearers are answerable to him.”27 Very often even Christians add that the state must be neutral; the state must not show any favour to God or make obviously religious statements. This is, though, quite naïve. Every law is based on some kind of morality and convictions of right and wrong. Where do these come from? We all base our decisions on foundational worldviews. This applies to the realm of the state and law, as well: “Every state in the world must have, and has had, a religion of some kind.”28 There is no morally neutral law. “The mythology of modern liberalism has been that it merely establishes a set of background rules that are themselves somehow devoid of moral content – and morality is the decision that we make about how to live our own lives against those rules. […] Practically all laws, whether they forbid me to take your car, outlaw racial discrimination, or coerce the payment of taxes, impose somebody’s morality on somebody else. Every law either prevents me from doing something or forces me to do something. The understandable American tendency is to pretend otherwise, as though laws against car theft are without moral content, whereas laws on abortion are dripping in moral judgment.”29 “In the guise of advocating ‘neutrality’, secular humanists have replaced our nation’s set of operating principles, which derive from the Judeo-Christian tradition, with another set of principles: these commit the United States to a materialistic view of truth, and have effectively established secular humanism as the only national religion.”30 The moral law of God is not law for the Christians alone or law to be proclaimed inside church walls: “The Church does not have two kinds of law at her disposal, one for the world and one for the Christian community, but her law is the one Law of God, revealed in Jesus Christ, which she has to proclaim to the whole world.”31 It is very interesting that some atheist thinkers more deeply understand the big either-or in questions of morality and also law: “When the throne of God is overturned, the rebel realizes that it is 27 Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethik. 28 Hodge A. A., Evangelical Theology. 29 Stephen Carter, quoted in Ramachandra V., Subverting. 30 Schaeffer Frank, A Time for Anger. 31 Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethik.
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now his own responsibility to create the justice, order, and unity that he sought in vain within his own condition, and in this way to justify the fall of God.”32 “There is master-morality and slave-morality. […] The noble type of person regards oneself as a determiner of values; one does not require approval; one passes judgment: ‘What is injurious to me is injurious in itself’; one knows that it is oneself only who confers honour on things; one is a creator of values. […] It is otherwise with the second type of morality, slave-morality.”33 Either we bow to the law of God, or we are forced to create our own morality. But this, then, will be a morality in our interest, for our benefit. And it will finally be, as Friedrich Nietzsche foresaw and advocated, the right of the strongest – not necessarily the right of the strongest individual, but perhaps the right of the strongest, most powerful, most influential group in society. We will be free from God or Christian values, but who will suffer in the end? The weak. It is not by chance that the protection of the weak is one of the main thrusts of Old Testament law.34 God’s law is good for us because it was ‘drafted’ by the Creator of the world.
II. Responsibility We have already seen that government and state exist for a certain purpose: “The political doctrine that emerged from Christianity is characterized by a notion that government is responsible. Rulers, overcome by Jesus Christ’s victory, exist provisionally and on sufferance for specific purposes.”35 The ruler is “God’s servant to do you good.”36 God “hath ordained civil magistrates to be under God over the people, for God’s own glory and the public good.”37 It is the responsibility of the state to do good for its citizens, not evil. Eventually, worldly authority exists to restrain evil, not to further it: a “well-regulated commonwealth” is one in which the “various orders of judges and senators, soldiers, captains, artisans and doctors [ministers in the church] aid each other by their mutual relationships and join together to promote the general welfare of all the people.”38 In the last chapter of the institutes, the reformer writes in more detail what this general welfare comprises: “That the public quiet be not disturbed, that every person’s property be kept secure, that peo32 Camus Albert, The Rebel. 33 Nietzsche Friedrich, Beyond Good and Evil. 34 Dt 10,18–19; 14,28–15,2; 24,14–15; 24,17–21; 25,13–16; Pr 29,7; 31,8–9; Ps 82,3–4. 35 O’Donovan O., The Desire of the Nations. 36 Rom 13,4. 37 Westminster Confession. 28,1. 38 Calvin Jean, Comm. Is. 3,2.
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ple may carry on innocent commerce with each other, that honesty and modesty be cultivated; in short, that a public form of religion may exist among Christians, and humanity among people.”39 “Humanity among people” – this has to be preserved. But being conscious of one’s responsibilities and duties does not come from nowhere and cannot be taken for granted, since we are all sinners and tend to work for our own interest. Rulers must not forget that they are responsible to God, and only this will finally be effective. Concerning rulers, Calvin writes that they may be “animated to duty when they hear that they are the ambassadors of God, to whom they must one day render an account of the province committed to them. This admonition ought justly to have the greatest effect upon them; for if they sin in any respect, not only is injury done to the people whom they wickedly torment, but they also insult God, Whose sacred tribunals they pollute.”40 “Conscious of their responsibility before God and people”, as the first words of the preamble of the Basic Law (Constitution) for the Federal Republic of Germany say. They reflect the Christian worldview of the authors and framers of the post-war Constitution. The Constitution for Europe says in its preamble that the Union’s aim is to work for the “good of all its inhabitants, including the weakest and most deprived”, but unfortunately, it only refers to the “cultural, religious and humanist inheritance of Europe” and consciously not to God. Rulers are responsible; that is why the highest civil servants are servants or called ministers, because they have to serve us, the citizens. It is not us, the people, who have to serve them. They are not gods and not god-like: “Even those who rule serve those whom they seem to command; for they rule not from a love of power, but from a sense of the duty they owe to others – not because they are proud of authority, but because they love mercy.”41 We usually take all this for granted, but historically this is not natural. In Mel Gibson’s film Apocalypto, the Mayan rulers were interested in many things, but not in the welfare of the people they manipulated, of whom they made fun and whom they even killed for sacrifices. But what is the welfare of the people? Is it peace and abundance, pleasure and satisfaction? It is of great importance under what kind of God we see ourselves. Christians confess a good God who loves
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justice. The “worshippers and admirers” of pagan gods “delight in imitating their scandalous iniquities” with the result that they “are nowise concerned that the republic be less depraved and licentious”.42 It is not enough to care for some kind of well-being; we need welfare combined with justice: “Justice being taken away, then, what are kingdoms but great robberies? For what are robberies themselves, but little kingdoms?”43 And this is guaranteed only by a just God. Augustine captures very well the mood in a society where the rulers and the people have forgotten the true God, where the common good has turned into something purely hedonistic, materialistic, egoistic – a distortion of true welfare and, by the way, words that could be repeated today: Let the state “remain undefeated, they say, only let it flourish and abound in resources; let it be glorious by its victories, or still better, secure in peace; and what matters it to us? This is our concern, that every person be able to increase one’s wealth so as to supply one’s daily prodigalities, and so that the powerful may subject the weak for their own purposes. Let the poor court the rich for a living, that under their protection they may enjoy a sluggish tranquillity; and let the rich abuse the poor as their dependants, to minister to their pride. Let the people applaud not those who protect their interests, but those who provide them with pleasure. Let no severe duty be commanded, no impurity forbidden. Let kings estimate their prosperity, not by the righteousness, but by the servility of their subjects.”44 At this point I want to mention three concrete responsibilities for rulers, which are grounded in the Bible. First, there must be a public commitment to truth-seeking and truthful speech on the part of any political authority. This is of utmost importance: political language is “designed to make lies sound truthful and murder respectable, and to give an appearance of solidity to pure wind. […] Thus political language has to consist largely of euphemism, question-begging and sheer cloudy vagueness.”45 Second, we need public deliberation, debates and discussions over the common good. Especially the parliament should be this public forum, before which the government has to explain itself and expose itself to critical interrogation. Openness to critique and advice is, as we saw, very important for democracy: “Any voice within the public realm which could address the community about the common good had to be heard, lest the voice of
39 Calvin Jean, Institutes of the Christian Religion. IV,20,3.
42 Augustine, The City of God. II,20.
40 Calvin Jean, Institutes of the Christian Religion. IV,20,6.
43 Augustine, The City of God. IV,4.
41 Augustine, Confessions. XIX,14.
44 Augustine, The City of God. II,20
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45 Orwell George, Politics and the English Language. London, 1946.
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true prophecy should go unheard. This is one element in what we have come to describe in the West as democracy: a civil society in which one person’s voice may be heard to the same extent as another’s, where responsibilities are not so structured and assigned that deliberation about the public good is confined to a particular class of deliberators. It rejects the classical thesis, common to Plato and Aristotle, that the rationality of a society belongs to a special ruling class within it.”46 Third, we have to remember the close connection between authority/power and work/responsibility. The principle is simple: the more authority, the more work and burden. This has become part of our political heritage, so that we usually, again, take it somehow for granted. Of course, we think, the prime minister has to work hard for us. But historically it was mostly the other way round: those in power could free themselves from too much work and let the common people work for them. The authority-work connection is rooted in the Bible and ultimately in God. The Lord has absolute authority, but God is also a most diligent being.47 Human beings have authority over the rest of creation, but that does entail work – cultivating, heeding and protecting. The mandate of subduing the Earth does not mean exploiting it, but caring for it. The same can be said about the Church and the family (leading a congregation means hard work). What, in this context, is the task of the Church and the Christians? Believers are called to positive engagement, on the one side. God says to the Jews in Babylon: “Seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it.”48 But then we read very strict words of judgment on the same city.49 The Church has to be a prophetic voice to a nation, and they may, at least sometimes, be very ‘deconstructive’: “If it is true that the Church is called to announce to the world that Jesus Christ is Lord, then there will be times when the world will find this distinctly uncomfortable. The powers that be will need reminding of their responsibility, more often perhaps as the Western world moves more and more into its post-Christian phase, where even when churchgoing remains strong, it is mixed with a variety of idolatries too large to be noticed by those who hold them, and where human rulers are more likely to acknowledge the rule of this or that ‘force’ than the rule of the Creator. And if the Church attempts this task of reminding, 46 47 48 49
O’Donovan O., The Desire of the Nations. Ps. 121,4. Jer. 29,7. Jer. 50–51.
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of calling the powers to account for their stewardship, it will face the same charges, and perhaps the same fate, as its Lord.”50 Christians have to be willing to risk a lot, to be ridiculed, laughed at and marginalised. They will only persevere because of a deep sense of duty and faith. William Wilberforce, for decades a member of the British House of Commons, fought for twenty years against the slave trade (until it was abolished in 1807). The key to understanding the complexity of Wilberforce and his work is his overriding sense of duty to God. “God Almighty has set before me two great objects, the suppression of the slave trade and the reformation of manners,” the parliamentarian said. In one of his great speeches in the House, he proclaimed: “Whatever they might do, the people of Great Britain, I am confident, will abolish the slave trade. […] For myself, I am engaged in a work I will never abandon. […] Let us persevere, and our triumph will be complete. Never, never will we desist, until we have wiped away his scandal from the Christian name, released ourselves from the load of guilt, under which we at present labour.”51 Wilberforce was driven by a Calvinistic sense of duty to the great God. Jean Calvin himself (and Martin Luther, of course) was an admirer of Augustine, whom he often quotes and who was probably the most influential of the Church fathers for his thinking. Let us finish with a brilliant quote about the exemplary Christian ruler: “For neither do we say that certain Christian emperors were therefore happy because they ruled a long time, or dying a peaceful death (…) But we say that they are happy if they rule justly; if they are not lifted up amid the praises of those who pay them sublime honours, and the obsequiousness of those who salute them with an excessive humility, but remember that they are human; if they make their power the handmaid of God’s majesty by using it for the greatest possible extension of God’s worship; if they fear, love, worship God; if more than their own they love that kingdom in which they are not afraid to have partners; (…) if their luxury is as much restrained as it might have been unrestrained; if they prefer to govern depraved desires rather than any nation whatever; and if they do all these things, not through ardent desire of empty glory, but through love of eternal felicity, not neglecting to offer to the true God, Who is their God, for their sins, the sacrifices of humility, contrition and prayer. Such Christian emperors, we say, are happy in the present time by hope, and are destined to be so in the enjoyment of the reality itself, when that which we wait for shall have arrived.”52 50 Wright N. T., The New Testament and the ‘State’. 51 Quoted in Tomkins Stephen, William Wilberforce: A Biography. 95. 52 Augustine, The City of God. V,24.
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Rebecca Blocksome
Time and Territoriality: Delineating Place and Self in Winter Stores
Ever since Albert Einstein, we have known than time and space are inextricably linked. As the fourth dimension in a world where we are only capable of seeing three, however, it is often overlooked (literally) in our discussion of space and place. Nevertheless, time plays a major role in how we experience places, and our notion of the shape of time, whether linear or circular, has major implications for how we interact with others and with the world around us. In this paper, we will discuss various conceptions of time and how they have evolved throughout human history, taking special note of the role of technology in shaping our notions of time. We will then explore these conceptions as evident in the exhibition Winter Stores by the Domestic Research Society at Škuc Gallery in Ljubljana. Building on Friedrich Nietzsche’s theory of eternal return as modified into Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari’s notion of the refrain, we will focus on how repetition with difference builds time into abstract space to territorialise it. Finally, we will note the importance of territory as “home” in constructing self-identity and making possible dialogue and interaction with the Other. The implications of modern technology’s alienation of humans from time and space will be discussed; we will then consider the role of contemporary art in proffering territories and places in an increasingly placeless world.
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I. The Shape of Time The earliest notions of time were cyclical. Before technology enabled the precise measurement of time, humans’ understanding of it was based on the rhythms of nature. The ancient Babylonians and Sumerians developed the calendar and the sundial to measure time based on the position of heavenly bodies, and even came up with the seven-day week in accordance with the seven visible planets of our solar system. This notion of circular time was further reinforced in agrarian societies by the cycles of the seasons and the life cycle of plants and animals. The major ancient civilizations of Greeks, Hindus and Mayas independently developed the notion of time as a “great wheel”, with repeating patterns of recurring events1. The idea of linear time took over with the rise of Judeo-Christianity, which posits a definite fixed point at which God created the universe, before which there was no time. Moreover, in Judeo-Christianity there is a definite end to time as well, which will take place at the Second Coming. This view of the world is built on a story, and thus on a history, which implies a linear, progressive view of time. Thus the study of time became quite central to the Church during the Middle Ages; scholars occupied themselves with computing the end of time and laying the groundwork for the discipline of historiography2. As technology developed, it served to strongly reinforce the linear view of time. In particular, the mechanical clock, in combination with artificial light (starting with candles, and then electric lights) allowed time to be completely abstracted from the rhythms of nature. Time became something that could be measured in increments, added and subtracted, saved and spent – a quantifiable entity. The Enlightenment, with its emphasis on understanding the world scientifically, further pushed time into the realm of linearity by propagating the theories of evolution and the “Big Bang” origin of the cosmos. Finally, technology itself was tied very closely to the idea of progress, of a clear development from one state to a different, better state as society perfected itself3. 1
LLOYD Andreas, Technology and Western Perception of Time. In HYPERLINK “http://www. eskar.dk/andreas/Time%20and%20tech.pdf” http://www.eskar.dk/andreas/Time%20 and%20tech.pdf.
2
LLOYD Andreas, Technology and Western Perception of Time. In HYPERLINK “http://www. eskar.dk/andreas/Time%20and%20tech.pdf” http://www.eskar.dk/andreas/Time%20 and%20tech.pdf. 2.
3
LLOYD Andreas, Technology and Western Perception of Time. In HYPERLINK “http://www. eskar.dk/andreas/Time%20and%20tech.pdf” http://www.eskar.dk/andreas/Time%20 and%20tech.pdf. 3–4.
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In response to this progressive dominance of linear time, some philosophers of the XIXth and XXth centuries mounted a resistance, seeking to restore a human or natural – i.e. cyclical – aspect to time. One of the most famous of these responses was the idea of eternal recurrence, or the notion that the universe has been recurring and will continue to recur in a self-similar form on and on to infinity. Arthur Schopenhauer was a strong proponent of this idea, but it is perhaps Friedrich Nietzsche who is most famous for it. In Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Nietzsche writes: “O Zarathustra, who you are and must become, behold you are the teacher of the eternal recurrence – that is your destiny! That you as the first must teach this doctrine – how could this great destiny not be your greatest danger and sickness too? “Behold, we know what you teach: that all things recur eternally, and we ourselves too; and that we have already existed an eternal number of times, and all things with us. […] “Now I die and vanish (…) the soul is as immortal as the body. But the knot of causes in which I am entangled recurs and will create me again. I myself belong to the causes of eternal recurrence. I come again, with this sun, with this earth, with this eagle, with this serpent – not to a new life or a better life or a similar life: I come back eternally to this same, selfsame life, in what is greatest as in what is smallest, to teach again the eternal recurrence of all things.4” Nietzsche was content to put forth this idea without offering any philosophical defense of it, and indeed, it appears he feels that the thought of it is more real than the phenomenon itself. Nevertheless, his idea did gain some traction in the scientific community (although it is by no means accepted widely). The defense put forth by Nietzsche’s followers combines statistics, physics and astrophysics to argue that time is infinite, but space and matter are finite. Therefore, even if matter can be arranged in an enormous number of permutations, that number is ultimately finite, and thus at some point in the infiniteness of time, those permutations must begin to repeat themselves5. Whether or not this argument is scientifically defensible (which it is beyond the scope of this paper to determine), Nietzsche’s theory is intriguing at least at the philosophical level for its confluence of 4
Nietzsche Friedrich, Thus Spoke Zarathustra (tr. KAUFMAN Walter). New York, 1995. 220–221.
5
GORFU G. E., Nietzsche’s Eternal Recurrence. New York, 2000. In HYPERLINK “http:// www.meskot.com/recurrence.htm” http://www.meskot.com/recurrence.htm.
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time, space and identity. This nexus was further explored by Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari, who, although not addressing its scientific merits, did put forth a much more elaborate philosophical analysis of eternal return under the name refrain.
II. Repetition and Difference Deleuze and Guattari, whose work draws heavily on Nietzsche, put forth a theory of repetition with difference in their essay 1837: Of the Refrain. For them, the refrain is the organising factor that differentiates between order and chaos, with order being understood as repeatability and chaos as uniqueness. Starting from the image of a young child humming to himself as he walks along in the dark, they note the power of a single repeated element to create a center of calm in the midst of a hostile place, threatening the ability of chaos to persist. Going one step further, the refrain, if sufficiently potent, can create not just a centring point, but a “home” – a circle of order organised around the centre, keeping the forces of chaos at bay. Within this circle, it is possible to dwell, not just for a moment, but for an extended period of time; there productive work is possible, or if not productive, at least intentional, activity directed toward a particular end. Crucially, this notion of refrain reconnects time not only to space, but also to place – to the territory, or lived space, as distinct from space as an abstract notion of space, which follows from the same technological and scientific developments as the abstraction of time. Thus, from the point of view of Deleuze and Guattari, time is an essential element of place, and each place has its own time, or times, which both describe and constitute it. The territory, as the basic unit of space, corresponds with the refrain, as the fundamental unit of time, in the lived world. Finally, after the circle has been established via repetition, it is possible for it to open a crack – not toward the outside where chaos reigns, but it a new direction, as if into the future. This is the difference in the repetition, which gives it its uniqueness, a linear quality in a circular world. To understand fully this concept, we must note that if the crack is not toward the outside as conventionally understood, then it must be towards another dimension – to the third dimension in a two-dimensional model, so to speak6. 6
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GOODCHILD Philip, Deleuze and Guattari: An Introduction to the Politics of Desire. Thousands Oaks, 1996. 311.
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These three stages – centre, circle, crack – together constitute the essence of the refrain as conceived by Deleuze and Guattari. The key aspect of this refrain is its repetition, by which it begins to take on a rhythm; and this quality of rhythm is that which distinguishes ordered space from chaotic. It is the first step in domesticating the abstract. Thus any territory, any lived place, is defined by a multiplicity of various shapes of time – linear, cyclical, helical, pointillistic – overlapping and interacting with each other in a complex dance. One might even say that space is colonised into place by means of time, by means of the narratives woven around and through it.
III. Spaces and Places To see how this might look in practice, it is worth considering a case study in territorialisation. At first glance, it might seem difficult to imagine a good site for this – in our day and age, most frontiers have already been closed long ago. Perhaps paradoxically, however, though very little natural space has escaped the marks of human civilization, we have actually come full circle and begun to manufacture spaces with the specific intent of making them as neutral as possible. By this, of course, I am speaking of the ‘white box’ of the art gallery, deliberately designed to eliminate any possible narratives or associations, so that it is a blank space that effectively disappears, avoiding interference with the artwork displayed in it. This displayed work does not traditionally serve the purpose of territorialising the gallery; the gallery remains a non-place, the purest form of abstract space, disappearing into the background of consciousness. The exception to this rule, however, is work which specifically calls attention to the gallery as a space and even as a place, with its own unique characteristics and its own marks of human settlement. In such instances, the artists could be said to have “territorialised” the gallery. For this to happen successfully, the artist must consciously – or even self-consciously – interact with the gallery space to engage it in the narrative of her or his work. One interesting example of a show that takes this approach is Winter Stores (Ozimnica), an exhibition by the collective Domestic Research Society (Društvo za domače raziskave – DDR) held in the Cabinet exhibition space of Škuc Gallery in Ljubljana from 17 to 27 July 2008.
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DDR consists of two visual artists, Alenka Pirman and Damijan Kracina, along with the art historian Jani Pirnat. According to the Slovenia Cultural Profile (SCP) website, the group “documents, collects, researches and presents domestic phenomena as installations, exhibitions or web projects related to the field of culture, art, science, conservation, education and research.7” DDR developed the Cabinet gallery specifically to showcase their collections, so in terms of both history and intent of the group, it is a true example of the domestication of a territory. The Cabinet space offers an interesting twist on the ‘white box’ by being, instead, a black box – or more precisely, three black boxes. Built into an abandoned building off the courtyard of Škuc, the space consists of three cubical modules approximately 2.5 meters on each side, arranged in an ‘L’ shape, with the facing walls knocked out to form a contiguous space. The interiors of the boxes are painted matte black. The viewer enters the space through a doorway cut into the side of the first box; she or he then can scan most of the compact gallery with a single glance, starting with the vertical stroke of the L in which she or he stands, and continuing to the right at the far end of the room to make the horizontal stroke. The “furnishings” are fairly simple at first glance. A single bare bulb lights the room, along with a dim filament directing light into the first corner. A faint red glow appears on one wall from an indeterminable source. There is also some ambient lighting from the artifacts themselves – a lighted display case on one wall, and no fewer than seven television monitors running simultaneously on the bookshelves set up in the third cube. The bulk of the exhibition consists of pithy statements written in white chalk directly on the walls in block letters (primarily in Slovene, but with two or three English statements as well). Some of these statements are connected with arrows, highlighting the relationships between them; others, however, do not appear to have any particular rhyme or reason. A selection of the more interesting statements for our purposes runs as follows: KO TO GLEDAŠ, NEKAJ ČASA SE TI ZDI DA PARADAJZ MIGA TO JE MOJ ZADNJI GOLOB 7
Slovenia Cultural Profile (SCP). In HYPERLINK “http://www.culturalprofiles.org.uk/ Slovenia/Units/5803.html” http://www.culturalprofiles.org.uk/Slovenia/Units/5803. html.
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PARAZITIZEM, SIMBIOZA, MIMIKRIJA, DOMESTIKACIJA, POSTDOMESTIKACIJA, EVOLUCIJA ZBIRATELJ ZBIRA ZBIRKO / A ZBIRKA IZBERE ZBIRATELJA NEKATERE JEDO, SPET DRUGE SO JED TOREJ KONJEV IN MOTORJEV, OBOJIH NAM JE TREBA ELIMINIRATI MRTVI ČAS KOLIKOR DALEČ, PAČ LAHKO SEŽEMO ENI MORAJO UMRETI, DA BI DRUGI ŽIVELI TREBA JE MNOGO VAJE IN POTRPEŽLJIVOSTI ZBIRKE SO NEKORISTNE, A POMEMBNE LANSKI MATERIJAL JE ŽE ODVEČ PREPOVEDANA JE NABAVA VSEGA OD SVINČNIKA NAPREJ ŠE SE DRŽIMO V BODOČE BOMO MORALI ŽIVETI OD LASTNIH SREDSTEV, NE PA OD ZUNANJE POMOČI V ODLAGALIŠČU SE NIČ NE DOGAJA, ZATO SE TUDI NE MORE NIČ POKVARITI POTEK REŠEVANJA NAJVEČJA SKRIVNOST VIDNEGA USPEHA JE TEHTNO IN ENOSTAVNO NAČRTOVANJE In addition to these writings, which dominate the space visually, a lighted display on the wall adjacent to the door lists the steps of the artistic process in graphic form, starting from APPEARANCES and TRIGGERS, moving to a point at the centre, DECISION, from where it widens out again, running through CONCEPTUALISATION to FIELD WORK, ITEMS, TRANSFORMATION, PRODUCTS, and ultimately SIGHTINGS. The next stimulus to hit the “viewer” is not visual, but auditory. A woman’s voice breaks in, repeating words without context, quite emotionless and nearly robotic. She speaks almost entirely in English: DREAMS – BLACK HAND FALL – DREMATI – JUMBO – ALLIANCE – LITTLE BOY – FIFTY-FIFTY – PLAYBOY – FEELING – CRETE – WINDOWS KISS. The list is repeated immediately afterward, with all the same words, but clearly not a mere repetition of the first recording, because small differences in pronunciation are discernible. The first reading also has a faint musical accompaniment, which the second reading lacks. The whole piece (two readings together, back-to-back) is repeated at approximately ten-minute intervals. The litany draws the spectator’s attention to the auditory
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environment, where a few other sounds begin to enter the consciousness. A small electronic ‘blip’ drones on in the background. Alongside this, a human voice can be heard speaking from one of the television monitors, drawing attention to the final corner of the room left to be explored. In addition to the voice from the television, another voice can be heard faintly emitting from a pair of headphones lying on the rough wooden bookshelf containing the monitors. The voice in the headphones, ostensibly that of the artist, describes some of the considerations that went into the work. The other six television monitors show silent pictures – the one in the top left corner displays a man weaving baskets and then lining them up and stacking them, and then removing them. Underneath it, a larger screen (with sound) shows images of roads and maps under the title Black Hole Sun. A slightly smaller screen below it has images of Slovenian casualties in World War I, followed by a lengthy discussion of the carrier pigeon and its role in the war. A very small monitor below this shows a series of black boxes, as geometric forms, morphing into various formations by adding, subtracting, stacking and turning them. Moving to the right half of the bookshelf, the top small monitor shows images of a large pot cooking over an outdoor fire with a pair of antlers on the ground next to it, presumably the aftermath of a hunt. Below it, a larger screen shows anatomical drawings of insects, reptiles and birds, as if for a zoology textbook. Interspersed amongst these technical drawings, however, are artistic illustrations and woodcuts of griffons, dragons and other mythical creatures. Finally, it moves on to photographs and images of mammals, including dogs and horses, in a clear “evolution” if not a scientifically accurate one. The small bottom monitor contains just three lines of credits, a still image which flickers gently on the screen. All of the monitors are in black and white, except for the one with roads and maps. A few other items adorn the shelves to round out the collection: a few books and papers on the highest shelf; a scale model of the Cabinet gallery itself with some woven baskets inside it; the four black boxes shown moving in the video; a dried flower, tulip-like, contrasting starkly with its rough metal display case; a stack of family pictures, tied into two bundles with brown string; and a large black wooden boat inscribed with the word Kabinet on the side. Also on the shelves, nearly overlooked at first glance, are two
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white paper sacks filled with small white stone chips that spill out of a hole in the corner of one of them. The exposed surfaces of the sacks are covered with blue and black ballpoint pen, scarcely legible, lists and diagrams. The centre of one sack features a rough sketch of a clock face with the hands pointing to 7:10. Suddenly, here on this paper sack, the key to understanding the whole exhibition, the territory, becomes apparent.
V. Lines and Circles Four arrows radiate from the clock face, more or less in the cardinal directions. To the left, a new list is topped simply by the word TIME, which is then subdivided into LITERARY and CYCLICAL. Under literary time are listed TECHNOLOGY and COUNTING; cyclical time encompasses NATURE and ETERNAL RETURN. Finally, two arrows under these divergent lists point back towards the common space, with a smaller clock face also set to 7:10. To the right, the arrow leads to CALIBER, which is divided into MECHANICS, and under this CHRONOMETER; and METAMECHANICS, and under it ÆSTHETICS and ETERNAL RETURN again, ironically enough. Straight up from the clock face, the arrow points to a dollar sign circled, with a question mark next to it. Above it is written USE/ÆSTHETIC VALUE. Below the clock, the arrow points to the word COUNTER, followed by another arrow leading to the word STYLE. The second bag contains more ruminations on the same subject, emphasising TRANSCENDENCE, and from there moving to EVERYDAY LIFE and TO RECORD THE ABSURDITIES OF LIFE. Among potential forms taken into consideration are RECIPES, DICTIONARY/DIALECT and STORIES. Together, these two sacks are like pages torn from a sketchbook, giving a unique insight into the minds of the artists. And from them it becomes clear that time is the organising principle of this exhibition, in all its complex and contradictory forms.
VI. Time as Form To begin studying the use of time in constructing this space, we can commence by taking the two most common “shapes” of time – linear and circular – and analysing their formal use in this exhibition. Linear time is progressive; it moves from point A to point B and generally implies some sort of development between these two
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points. There are many examples of linear time in this exhibition, starting with the statements written on the walls. Especially on the first two walls, these statements are frequently connected with arrows, explicitly drawing linear logical connections between them. The setup of the gallery reinforces this linearity, as it is “read” both literally and figuratively from left to right. The statements frequently wrap around the corners of the walls, drawing the eye along in an orderly fashion. They are all written in straight lines parallel to the floor, so there is no attempt to diminish or negate this inherent linear property of text in any way. The display case with the creative process interrupts this flow, as it is a sort of self-contained island on the wall; within its borders, however, it also presents a linear view of time (as any process must), emphasised by the triangular forms in the background. And six of the television monitors, while not employing arrows, also tell their stories in a linear fashion, as is standard for time-based media. As for circular time, those same television monitors loop their programs, so after you have moved through the linear narrative once, it is transformed into a circular meta-narrative. Likewise, the main audio loop (Dreams) is an example of circular time, although with much less internal cohesion. It, however, lacks the simultaneous linear structure of the films or the writings on the wall, because the words are not sentences and have no logical linear connection. Two unique examples fit neither into linear nor circular forms: the television monitor which shows only a flickering still image with production credits, and the insistent electronic “blip” in the background. These two examples are fascinating precisely because they contradict the forms of their media. By showing a still picture on a time-based medium like film, the image effectively freezes time and holds it in an eternal instant. Similarly, the “blip” cannot be said to have any kind of narrative qualities, as it never changes; like a single point that has no spatial dimensions, a blip with no semantic content nor external reference is just a blip, serving only to draw attention to that particular instant in time, discrete and isolated from all other particular instants.
VII. Time as Matter Moving on from the formal aspects of time’s presentation, we can also look at how time is presented through the subject matter of the exhibition. As noted above, many of the statements written on the walls deal directly or indirectly with the topic of time. Many reinforce
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the linear concept of time: “When you look at this, sometimes it seems to you that Paradise beckons.8” This statement parallels the Judeo-Christian narrative of progress towards an eventual Utopia. “The course of salvation”, whether intentionally or not, mirrors and reinforces this same utopian narrative of progress. Likewise, “Parasitism, symbiosis, mimicry, domestication, postdomestication, evolution” also describes progress by means of process. Interestingly, it introduces the idea of post-domestication, emphasising the continuity of the evolutionary process beyond the point where we actually are right now – a bit of a jolt, as we tend to think of evolution as a process that has already culminated, however scientifically unsupportable that stance is. Other statements deliberately try to play with linear logic, folding it back on itself and exploiting ambiguous relationships between cause and effect, in a circular logic reminiscent of circular time. Among these statements, “The collector collects the collection, yet the collection chooses the collector” stands out. Another reference to circular time, taking a different approach, is “Many exercises and patience are needed,” which emphasises the value of repetition. From there it is only a short step further to static time: “Still we remain” seems to defy both linear and circular time, to create a moment completely outside it. Perhaps the most interesting statements, though, are the ones that deal with technology and its implications. Normally these would be classed under the heading of linear time, as technology is very much part of the narrative of progress that drives society today. Many of these statements, however, seem to have an ironical touch, calling into question this narrative of progress: “Therefore horses and motorcycles, we need both of them.” Superfluity figures highly in these narratives: “Last year’s material is already too much”; “Purchases are prohibited, everything from the pencil onward”; “Nothing happens in the landfill, therefore you cannot break anything.” The influence of technology on the perception of time can hardly be overestimated, which makes these statements particularly meaningful. As noted, technology influences the general shape of time, favouring a linear perception over a circular one. Technology tends to remove repetition from everyday life, as routine tasks become automated. Furthermore, even within linear time, technology alters the shape by altering the speed – it compresses time, speeding up the pace of society and humans within it, and fundamentally alters the 8
All translations are the author’s.
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perception of space, allowing us to cover more territory in less time. In this respect, perhaps the most clever element of the exhibition is the repetition of the earlier phrase “Therefore horses and motorcycles, we need both of them,” which appears for a second time on the very last wall of the room, half hidden behind the television monitors. It is slightly modified, however, in form: “Therefore horses and motorcycles, we need both of them, the more the better.” This manages not only to take aim at utopianism and overabundance at the same time, but its repetition in an altered form (the only repeated statement in the show) sets up the remaining time-form, the refrain. This refrain is carried over into the video content, which explores the more complex forms of time, as is only possible in timebased media. Particularly interesting in this regard is the monitor showing the four boxes moving into various permutations; these rearrangements are shown from an oblique view and a top view simultaneously, side by side, giving an oddly disconcerting effect of being dislocated in space and time. The true confusion in space and time, however, comes from watching the video in conjunction with the four black boxes stacked on the shelf beside it. In a flash of recognition, it becomes apparent that the boxes on the shelf are the same boxes appearing in the film – making them both present and past (already recorded) simultaneously. Again, this is repetition with difference, which imbues the forms with a parallel feeling of recognition and estrangement. Taking it one step further, the eye is drawn to the miniature model of the gallery space – three black boxes stuck together in an L shape – on a higher shelf. The four black boxes below resemble the basic units of construction, thereby creating a link between the boxes, the video and the model, not to mention with the physical gallery space in which they all reside. On top of this, upon closer examination, it is apparent that the woven wooden forms inside the gallery model are miniature versions of the forms being woven in the video next to it, once again playing mind games with time and space. Furthermore, although not all viewers of the show would necessarily know it, the video and the woven forms are remainders from an earlier show by the same group in the same space. Likewise, the video showing the cooking with the antlers nearby refers to another earlier show, also by the same group in the same space, and some of the writings on the wall refer to the same show. Even the title of the show, Winter Stores, refers obliquely to the same concept, indicating a thing or things put by at an earlier time to be benefited from later on.
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All this manipulation of space and time, the endless repetitions and alterations, create the meta-narratives characteristic of the refrain in Deleuze and Guattari’s terms. By using self-referential objects and videos in unexpected ways, the artists bring the third dimension into the two-dimensional world – or in this context, the fourth dimension into the three-dimensional world. The reference to previous “lives” of the gallery space gives it a history both linear and cyclical, a specific identity and personality that would otherwise be lacking.
VIII. Putting down Roots If we go back to our sketch of time on the paper bag, then, we can see time in all its various manifestations here: literary (linear) in the form of technology, and cyclical with the references to nature and eternal return. But while both appear, cyclical time appears to ultimately dominate in its modified form as the refrain. This refrain defines the gallery as a place instead of a space, gives it a connection to human life and lived experience. The distinction is not strictly academic. Indeed, placelessness is one of the chronic afflictions of modern society. The Turkish æsthetician Jale Erzen, writing about the æsthetics of placelessness, argues that a basic sense of place or territory is fundamental for human beings to be able to meet and interact with the “Other”; place is a fundamental category, necessary for the human being (or culture, speaking in collective terms) to form a sense of self-identity. Erzen writes: “The idea or notion of identity is profoundly related to sameness of a thing with its context. More specifically, it is related with the sameness or similarity of man with his environment. Identity is the forming of character and behaviour and culture through contact with place or contact with what one belongs to; this relationship which renders identity to the subject and to place is a contract the human makes with the earth. Identity grows with roots.9” Conversely, the lack of roots has grave implications for human subjectivity. As Erzen notes, “Not being able to relate becomes a malfunction of social life. De-territorialisation becomes the cause of de-personification, the effacement of the self.10” This deterritorialisation can be largely attributed to the effects of mass technology in distorting our sense of time, and by extension space,
9
10
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Jale Erzen, Aesthetics of the Placeless. In Proceedings volume of the intercontinental conference Frontiers of Transculturality in Contemporary Aesthetics. Torino, 2001. 288.
Erzen 289.
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by forcing it into a linear model, compressing it and eliminating the routine habits and rhythm which define our day-to-day existence, our sense of familiarity in the world. “When a certain balance is upset, a certain measure is not reached, or when there are too many relationships creating fragmentation, too many and too fast goings away and too many intakes or too much giving out, then the identity changes, or simply is erased,11” Erzen writes. “Speed and mechanical manipulation over matter seem to free one of any local pressure, gravity or dependence.12” All hope is not lost, though. Erzen believes that there is hope to put the sense of place back into human experience, to restore a sense of self and identity to the anonymity of modern life; and she believes in particular it is the role of contemporary art to address the phenomenon of placelessness. “The awareness of contemporary art about creating relationships between the artefact and the observer is rooted in an ethical sense and social engagement,13” she writes. From this aspect, Winter Stores goes beyond being a clever and thoughtful rumination on the notion of time, to being a tangible reminder of the value of rootedness in human experience. Ironically, it transforms the abstract, timeless space of the gallery into a place more time-full than most of us experience in our modern homogenised day-to-day lives. To spend an hour in that territory is to renew one’s awareness of one’s environment, one’s life and ultimately, one’s self.
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Erzen 287.
12
Erzen 290.
13
Erzen 289.
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By-names and other Mockeries of Slovak Towns and Villages I. Why do we Use By-names? One of the main signs of an ethnic community is its name, which is developed within the internal and external frames of this ethnic community. The difference between the unofficial and official names is twofold. First, on the one side the official names are valid and recognised in the whole state; and second, the unofficial are characteristic of smaller districts and the users are local inhabitants. The official name, however, does not correspond to the unofficial one, which is mainly used by members of a different ethnic group. The name of the village, town or region is a distinguishing sign, by which the inhabitants of one area are differed from those of other areas. The choice of the name is directly related to different communication situations and its identification needs. Unofficial names of towns, villages or deserted dwellings were one of the basic identifiers of each local area in Slovakia. They were and are alive as songs, music and dances, but not as much attention has been paid to them as to other folk expressions. They are a way of identification at different places, occasions, and in certain areas they are more important and used than the official names. They are a hidden source of interesting information about the people, their culture and lifestyle, and many of them still remain in daily communication throughout Slovakia. An example: “Where are you from?” “From Korytárky.” “Ah, so you are a scales-person” (due to the scales produced in the area.) There is a rich system of unofficial names. Most of them are sayings bound to the local common knowledge. In informal communication
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by forcing it into a linear model, compressing it and eliminating the routine habits and rhythm which define our day-to-day existence, our sense of familiarity in the world. “When a certain balance is upset, a certain measure is not reached, or when there are too many relationships creating fragmentation, too many and too fast goings away and too many intakes or too much giving out, then the identity changes, or simply is erased,11” Erzen writes. “Speed and mechanical manipulation over matter seem to free one of any local pressure, gravity or dependence.12” All hope is not lost, though. Erzen believes that there is hope to put the sense of place back into human experience, to restore a sense of self and identity to the anonymity of modern life; and she believes in particular it is the role of contemporary art to address the phenomenon of placelessness. “The awareness of contemporary art about creating relationships between the artefact and the observer is rooted in an ethical sense and social engagement,13” she writes. From this aspect, Winter Stores goes beyond being a clever and thoughtful rumination on the notion of time, to being a tangible reminder of the value of rootedness in human experience. Ironically, it transforms the abstract, timeless space of the gallery into a place more time-full than most of us experience in our modern homogenised day-to-day lives. To spend an hour in that territory is to renew one’s awareness of one’s environment, one’s life and ultimately, one’s self.
11
Erzen 287.
12
Erzen 290.
13
Erzen 289.
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By-names and other Mockeries of Slovak Towns and Villages I. Why do we Use By-names? One of the main signs of an ethnic community is its name, which is developed within the internal and external frames of this ethnic community. The difference between the unofficial and official names is twofold. First, on the one side the official names are valid and recognised in the whole state; and second, the unofficial are characteristic of smaller districts and the users are local inhabitants. The official name, however, does not correspond to the unofficial one, which is mainly used by members of a different ethnic group. The name of the village, town or region is a distinguishing sign, by which the inhabitants of one area are differed from those of other areas. The choice of the name is directly related to different communication situations and its identification needs. Unofficial names of towns, villages or deserted dwellings were one of the basic identifiers of each local area in Slovakia. They were and are alive as songs, music and dances, but not as much attention has been paid to them as to other folk expressions. They are a way of identification at different places, occasions, and in certain areas they are more important and used than the official names. They are a hidden source of interesting information about the people, their culture and lifestyle, and many of them still remain in daily communication throughout Slovakia. An example: “Where are you from?” “From Korytárky.” “Ah, so you are a scales-person” (due to the scales produced in the area.) There is a rich system of unofficial names. Most of them are sayings bound to the local common knowledge. In informal communication
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it is common to use more than one name for a village or town; for example, the town Detva in central Slovakia has about eight of them.
II. History of Unofficial Names of People and Places In the village, using and inventing unofficial names for people was widespread. In mediæval documents only the first names are present, to which later distinguishing inherited names (surnames) were attached. Obligatory use of surnames was instituted first by Joseph I in the XVIIIth century, because of administrative reasons and requirements. Unofficial names (bynames, doubled surnames or adjectives) were later added to first names and surnames. They served for better identification of people with the same name living in certain areas. They were more significant for certain personalities than the first name and surname, and they had a dominating position and function in the countryside. It was the same with unofficial names of villages, towns and cities. They have their sources in the collective and common memory, and they are mainly orally passed on and preserved. They help in a closer and more exact identification and description of inhabitants. In the literature these names are called alive, and from the folkloristic point of view, these are the primary names.
III. Aspects that Determine the Use and Functions of Unofficial Names With the development of the culture and life conditions throughout history, names have been changing as well. On the one hand, during certain periods the changes did not influence the system of names visibly. On the other hand, there have been periods when the changes left very significant marks. We can mention, as a very good example of an important historical condition or catalyser of founding new bynames, the period of strong Magyar influence on Slovaks in the Hungarian Empire. In the 1898 a law about the Magyarisation of the Slovak names of towns was implemented. The decree meant that every town could have only a Magyar name – for example Detva could only be called Gyetva. For a short period, it was not allowed to use the city names in the mother language of the nationalities anywhere in the non-Magyar
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parts inside the Hungarian Empire. There are still Magyar bynames used in everyday communication. Generally, some of the unofficial names have been alive for a long time throughout generations and some were present in communication for only a very short period. Apart from the primary aim of using the byname as an identifier, there are also secondary uses. They have become the names of folk dance groups or town newspapers, and so on. Many bynames of towns and villages were founded on the basis of the professional orientation, crafts or jobs carried out, and in the most cases it was the main source of earning a living in the area. For example, people coming from the village Ábelová were called “sackpeople”, because of the sack production there. The political and social changes after the Second World War forced many crafts and professions to cease, and that automatically led to the extinction of the bynames of the inhabitants founded on their profession. Accordingly, the creation of bynames has its source in the current circumstances and conditions. The research focusing on people addressed by bynames reveals information about their features and social backgrounds, or their relations to closer or farther surroundings. It is interesting that in every region or micro-region there is a village or town which was the centre or the best object for mockery. In the Zvolen surroundings, for example, it is the village of Očová: “Do you know why the inhabitants of Očová dig two wells?” “One for hot and one for cold water.” The usual sociological research is focused on differing social aspects. By studying unofficial names, however, we turn our attention to the opposite side, thus to the integrating factors and collectivism. This category is an important factor for the functioning of folklore phenomena nowadays, and especially for the bynames. It is their basic and primary feature to be related not to individuals, but mainly to all members of groups, whether ethnic or social. The strength of collectivism is significant in the fact that the bynames were founded by the act of an individual; later, however, they became the name of the whole local community to which the individual belonged. The research carried out focuses mainly on social integrative factors influencing the existence, development and functioning of unofficial names. In their hierarchy, the most remarkable ones are age and sex, which are followed by confession, education, profession and social status.
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Having taken into consideration the aspect of sex, differences at four levels were revealed. These differences can be seen in the extent of knowledge, in its interpretation, the motivations that gave bynames birth, and their use. Men proved to have the greatest amount of information on unofficial names. Although some women knew certain names, these names were mostly concerned with the villages where they were born and spent their childhood. What explains this situation is the sociopsychological status of women at that time. The main task of a woman was to keep a household, as opposed to a man, who was more active outside his house and village. Women would hardly ever leave their households, but men were very often compelled to leave their villages because of work. Differences in interpretation can be found within a group of names that have a rather mocking character. Older women would deny talking about them. They would find it rather embarrassing. Men used to feel freer in such matters. The place where one could hear the most spontaneous information was the pub. It was the pub where a man would dare to talk about names that had a mocking character. At home a man would not mention any names like in the pub. Being a member of a folk group was also a kind of means for keeping unofficial names. This fact appears to have been of great importance when observing the younger generation gathered in folk groups. Communication with our older generation also contributes to a kind of preservation of traditions and the extension of our knowledge. Our relationship to folk dances, music or literature can then become positive. Denomination is also reflected in unofficial names. We can clearly see it in the division into rich Protestants and poor Roman Catholics. That is why some villages are associated with inhabitants that are purely Protestant. One of the significant signs of unofficial names is that they are restricted to a certain area. This means that the vocabulary of the local people is only related to their former home region. One would not know the bynames of any distant village. One would be familiar only with bynames that were famous for their mocking character. People also knew the bynames of the neighbouring villages, or villages that functioned as communication centres.
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IV. Important Places for Bynames So what determines the existence of unofficial names is the socialization of inhabitants who concentrate in certain places, but come from different regions. Pubs, churches, markets (and feasts) were places where one could hear such names.
1. Pub A pub necessarily belonged to every single village. It served as a kind of cultural and social institution. As far as men’s life was concerned, pubs were really very important. Men would go there almost every day. Bynames were particularly created during fights and arguments, so this environment was very productive. After the Second World War (1939–1945), the pubs almost totally lost their former primary function. They were then replaced by the so-called cultural houses, an invention of the Communist Party. Those took over the function of social institutions. So, the pub underwent changes regarding its function.
2. Church Churches, unlike pubs, were not kinds of places where people would meet every day. Churches also gathered those people living in a faraway dwelling, which naturally did not have any church. Therefore, Sunday holy masses, services and holy liturgies were attended by people coming from those distant villages. Nowadays every village wants to have a church or at least a place where services can be held, as for example cultural houses. This means that these buildings are centres of social life, but not only for the particular society of one village.
3. Market Markets used to ensure the economic and social contact of people coming from various places and regions. In contrast to churches and pubs, they used to group people from distant places, but on the other hand they did not take place so often as masses or meetings in pubs. At these places people made up unofficial names, characterizing people coming from certain areas, towns or villages, according to their professions. Inhabitants of Banská Bystrica were called hruškári, which means pear-people. As time went by, two factors contributed to the extinction
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of markets and festivals: first, the change of social and economic conditions; and second, the attempt to ensure supply for inhabitants with a market net. Nowadays sporting events are the places where unofficial names are created and used. It is fans who use them when encouraging sport teams: for example, there Zvolenčania are called Bryndziari, meaning bryndza-people (bryndza is a Slovak sheep-milk cheese). Other places that helped to sustain these unofficial names are schools, work environments and also everyday travelling by bus or train. Nowadays many children travel to schools, but they do not use any bynames.
V. Classification of By-names All bynames are restricted to oral communication, but since their meaning is not clear and explicit, one would consider them meaningless. To be able to decode its meaning, one must be a member of the particular cultural and historical society to which these bynames are connected. Before analysing bynames, we had to get as much information as possible about the causes that gave them birth. In our paper, these were divided into the following subgroups: 1. First, bynames of an identifying character. These served to signify certain places, and the names were frequently used in everyday communication. Furthermore, they gained equal position with the official names. 2. Second, bynames of a mocking character. These were mostly used during fights and arguments and hardly ever in everyday communication. People addressed with these names were rather ashamed and embarrassed to be called so. What usually gave rise to them was some funny or ridiculous event. Only a small minority of them was related to some historical point. As far as by-names of a mocking character are concerned, one would usually start narrating a story that ends up in assigning a mocking byname for a certain person, and then this name would be implemented for the whole group to which the person belonged. The narrations usually finish with words like: “and since then, they are called …, because …”. The topics of these narrations can be either universal or specific, for example like the famous story of how inhabitants of one village cooked a goulash from a dog. These comic stories about the motivation for bynames are very popular, and many people believe that they really happened. (Translated by Katarina Babicová and Zuzana Babicová)
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A Fairytale about a Jester and a King “The king is coming tomorrow,” the vassals whispered as they strew about tulip, daffodil and violet petals. “The king is coming tomorrow,” the mercenaries chanted monotonously instead of a song. Yes, the king is to come tomorrow. Which king? Well, our king – the king of this country and the king of our fairy-tale. An absolutely ordinary king – as kings usually are: fat, stupid, proud and indifferent. But this particular king had made a fatal mistake: he travelled to the kingdom of the Philosopher King – a humanist. But he made an even greater mistake when he returned from that country to his own, which is the country of our tale. The king’s carriage, drawn by eight steeds over whirling, faded petals – long live the king! – with gilded wheels which jingled on the stone cobbles, stopped in the middle of the court. “Long live the king!” At that moment twenty mercenaries stamped with their right foot and marched toward him with arms presented to honour him. “The king is here to enter into history,” proclaimed the monarch as soon as he quit the carriage. “We have lagged behind,” he shouted, “but on everything we shall catch up.” A jester stepped out after the king and, like a living shadow, pranced along behind the king’s heels. “They are writing a book there about everything their king does, and it is the most important thing,” said the King. “You two,” he stopped in front of motionless castle guards, “I promote you to the post of scribes. You have until tomorrow evening to learn to write. You will be responsible for the Book of Royal History – Write it down.” “Most important is to gain the nation’s heart,” the monarch speculated aloud when the bedroom door closed. “If the nation grows fond of you,” the king winked at the jester confidentially, “they
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Andrea J ágerová : By-names and other Mockeries
of markets and festivals: first, the change of social and economic conditions; and second, the attempt to ensure supply for inhabitants with a market net. Nowadays sporting events are the places where unofficial names are created and used. It is fans who use them when encouraging sport teams: for example, there Zvolenčania are called Bryndziari, meaning bryndza-people (bryndza is a Slovak sheep-milk cheese). Other places that helped to sustain these unofficial names are schools, work environments and also everyday travelling by bus or train. Nowadays many children travel to schools, but they do not use any bynames.
V. Classification of By-names All bynames are restricted to oral communication, but since their meaning is not clear and explicit, one would consider them meaningless. To be able to decode its meaning, one must be a member of the particular cultural and historical society to which these bynames are connected. Before analysing bynames, we had to get as much information as possible about the causes that gave them birth. In our paper, these were divided into the following subgroups: 1. First, bynames of an identifying character. These served to signify certain places, and the names were frequently used in everyday communication. Furthermore, they gained equal position with the official names. 2. Second, bynames of a mocking character. These were mostly used during fights and arguments and hardly ever in everyday communication. People addressed with these names were rather ashamed and embarrassed to be called so. What usually gave rise to them was some funny or ridiculous event. Only a small minority of them was related to some historical point. As far as by-names of a mocking character are concerned, one would usually start narrating a story that ends up in assigning a mocking byname for a certain person, and then this name would be implemented for the whole group to which the person belonged. The narrations usually finish with words like: “and since then, they are called …, because …”. The topics of these narrations can be either universal or specific, for example like the famous story of how inhabitants of one village cooked a goulash from a dog. These comic stories about the motivation for bynames are very popular, and many people believe that they really happened. (Translated by Katarina Babicová and Zuzana Babicová)
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A Fairytale about a Jester and a King “The king is coming tomorrow,” the vassals whispered as they strew about tulip, daffodil and violet petals. “The king is coming tomorrow,” the mercenaries chanted monotonously instead of a song. Yes, the king is to come tomorrow. Which king? Well, our king – the king of this country and the king of our fairy-tale. An absolutely ordinary king – as kings usually are: fat, stupid, proud and indifferent. But this particular king had made a fatal mistake: he travelled to the kingdom of the Philosopher King – a humanist. But he made an even greater mistake when he returned from that country to his own, which is the country of our tale. The king’s carriage, drawn by eight steeds over whirling, faded petals – long live the king! – with gilded wheels which jingled on the stone cobbles, stopped in the middle of the court. “Long live the king!” At that moment twenty mercenaries stamped with their right foot and marched toward him with arms presented to honour him. “The king is here to enter into history,” proclaimed the monarch as soon as he quit the carriage. “We have lagged behind,” he shouted, “but on everything we shall catch up.” A jester stepped out after the king and, like a living shadow, pranced along behind the king’s heels. “They are writing a book there about everything their king does, and it is the most important thing,” said the King. “You two,” he stopped in front of motionless castle guards, “I promote you to the post of scribes. You have until tomorrow evening to learn to write. You will be responsible for the Book of Royal History – Write it down.” “Most important is to gain the nation’s heart,” the monarch speculated aloud when the bedroom door closed. “If the nation grows fond of you,” the king winked at the jester confidentially, “they
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will compose songs about you, fabricate legends. Then children’s children, the children of their children will recite them with respect in history lessons.” “Great things are not born from one day to the next,” claimed the king later, when the first years were over and his reforms were yet but on paper. Trained soldiers began working. In the gloomy scriptorium they anxiously filled pages, line after line, in the Book of Royal History: Cradle of Heroic Deeds – so announced the gilded headline in the title of the book. A page: “In the morning of the second day of the third month in the twentieth year of his majesty’s reign, the king woke and arose at ten. From the very morning, even while he was dressing, the monarch showed remarkable enthusiasm for the cultural improvement of the uneducated class. He warmly and patiently explained the developmental principles of the humanistic determining factor for the conditions of transmission to the maid-servants who dressed him. “King’s breakfast, second day, third month, twentieth year of his majesty’s reign: Starter –almond pie with raisins, bottle of champagne. Main course – suckling pig in butter stuffed with figs, pineapple, peaches and a jar of Tokay. It is worth mentioning – the document continues – that the king, between the starter and the main course, slowly stopped chewing and – being deep in thought – stared out at the pastures bejewelled with the castle swine. “ ‘Their utility is directly proportional to their weight,’ he said after while , speaking only half aloud to the serviette a sentence that has since commanded the admiration of the greatest scholars of the king’s philosophy. (The quotation is also recorded in Book of King’s Quotations, along with a detailed analysis.)” Simply said, in the document there is noted everything that demonstrates the king’s character in all its complexity. “We work for our nation, which means we have to keep pace with the times,” the king said one morning on the terrace of the castle tower. “And that means to copy everything that is done in the country of the Philosopher King – a humanist,” added the jester, dodging the slap. He was the king’s conscience. It is known from history that not even the best monarchs were able to get rid of their conscience entirely.
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“Shut up, imp!” he yelled. “I am the king and you are the jester. Think of that, what it means. Look, there is a church down there, the church has a tower, and towers are obsolete. What shall a clever king do? Well, so what shall he do?” He showed his teeth triumphantly to the jester. “You, jerk, it is clear,” he continued without a pause. “Listen, tomorrow we demolish the tower. Towers express backwardness. They toll too tirelessly and every Sunday rudely interrupt my nap. In the humanist’s country they have the whole town built up with chimneys. A step forward means to add a beautiful chimney to the church instead of the tower.” “Honourable King,” laughed the jester, “you can start baking bricks in the church at once.” “Shut up, shut up!” the king yelled. “I am the king and you are the jester. It means I know everything. I am allowed to do everything. I can manage everything. You know nothing. You are not allowed to do anything. You can do nothing.” The tower was demolished and a chimney was built up in its place. Believers revolted, gathered outside the church, angrily shouted and threw their strong peasant arms about. “Come here, jester,” the king called him, leaning over a stone banister among the flying angels. “Look how they rejoice, how they call for my glory. I confirm from my own experience that there is no greater pleasure than to accept the thanksgiving of the simple folk,” he said passionately. The two scribes immediately chiselled down his statement on stone slates, as the notebook did not exist yet. “Social welfare is our goal!” he called out joyfully. “Listen, jester, we will change everything completely. The people deserve more dignified living. We must not simply keep abreast of, but must overtake the times. All must be different. I will design a plan of the town. Everything must be the other way round. Our colleague – the humanist – has streets of only right angles, mutually connected and traversed. We will build the streets in circles, not to be touched and connected. Look! This is the most beautiful and the most other way round.” “Excuse me, your Honour,” the jester objected, “but it looks more like a sport stadium than our town.” “You know nothing. You are not allowed to do anything. Shut up!” the king interrupted him. “And the houses, look at them, how terrible they are. You can see nothing but roof tiles, shingles, straw. Who can look at it? We will
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do it differently. Roofs will be on the walls. There will be a door and windows on the roof. Imagine what a wonderful view you will have out there. In the morning I will climb up to the tower and I will see directly through my vassals’ windows. Behind the windows happy faces will smile at me, calling, ‘Good morning, our king,’ and I will benevolently wave with my gauntlet, ‘Good morning, good morning.’ – It is strange that this has not yet come into anybody’s mind.” “It will rain a scant few times,” the jester laughed, “and the town will be an area for bathing.” “Stop, you ogre. I am the king and you are the jester! Think over carefully what that means.” The streets were built in circles and the new houses had their doors and windows installed in the roofs and the roofs brought down on the walls. The poor vassals had to move into the mountain caves. Basilea Sophia – The Museum of the King’s Wisdom – was the tallest building of the town. The Book of Royal History, The Book of the King’s Quotations, the town plans sketched by the very hand of the monarch himself, small paintings and sculptural illustrations of scenes from the king’s life were kept there. The king was to attend the opening of this museum. “It must be before the rainy season,” the king’s advisors thought; “otherwise all the halls will be flooded with water and we will be headless.” And so the ceremonial procession headed from the castle to the town. “It seems to me that we are spinning in circles all the time,” the king said hesitantly when they again began the first circle street for the twenty-ninth time. “I confirm that Your Panjandrum is right, of course,” the King’s highest advisor remarked angrily. “We will never reach the museum on these running trails,” the jester added. “Who made these streets up? What sniper, provocateur, conspirator?” The king was angry and looked remarkably like a ruffled goose. “The one who conceived this stupid road will give a full account of it in front of the royal court. Put it down!” – he said to the scribes, and he had a road built across all the circle streets directly to the museum. When the road was finished and the crowd was standing near the walls of the museum, new difficulties arose.
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“We will have to climb the ropes up there,” the jester deduced. The counsellors nodded in silent agreement. “Climb?” The king was horrified. “The ropes? What for?” “Dignified Lord, the entrance is on the roof – in the event you do not happen to know about it.” “The door on the roof, the door on the roof, who has ever heard of it, such a stupid idea.” The king began to beat his hand against his head. “The guilty one will be punished.” He waved to the scribes with one hand, nursing his aching head with the other. They then built a stairway to the roof. Music was played. The king feasted in the museum, the meal for this special occasion prepared by a conscientious cooking team a week in advance. After the simple celebration, the entourage returned to the castle. “Come here, jester,” waved the king when he was again in his favourite place in the tower. “Look! Someone has entirely destroyed my town.” The road built directly to the museum across the tidy circles looked like a sword scar, and the wide stairway urged laughter. “Who could have done it? Call the scribes; I issue a warrant for the idiot’s apprehension.” “It is said that they have got him,” said the jester, calming him down. “He is strolling about the castle and he does not have an inkling that we want to catch him.” “I call an emergency court. Now!” The fanfare resounded in the towers and the king, burdened with a purple robe, betook himself to his throne to the courtroom. “A verdict is clear,” he claimed as soon as he sat down. “The one who has built the road must be drowned mercilessly. The one who has built the stairway must be burnt alive. Bring the guilty ones!” A counsellor superior nodded and two mercenaries grasped the poor king and dragged him in front of the mirror. “Here he is, your majesty,” they laughed with the rude laughter of soldiers. “I take everything back! I take everything back!” cried the frightened king. It all slowly became clear to him. “There is no appeal to the king’s order,” the counsellors said unanimously. They could not wait for the moment when their king would finally be drowned. “Wait,” commanded the jester, whose words were gaining more and more authority, stopping them. “The dignified king must be burnt and drowned. I suggest to set on
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bonfire and then dousing it with water. That is the way to administer the punishment, and you, dignified monarch, will remain alive.” “Shut up, jester,“ said the king sternly. “Remember, I am the king and you are the jester. It means that I know everything and I can manage everything and you know nothing and cannot do anything. First drown, then burn,” he beckoned to the executioners. That is the way it happened then. However, burning was not necessary, as there was no one who wanted to look for the king’s water-swollen, bloated body down in the riverbed.