Dickens’ "Carol Philosophy"

But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas
time, when it has come round — apart from the
veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything
belonging to it can be apart from that — as a
good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant
time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar
of the year, when men and women seem by one consent
to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think
of people below them as if they really were
fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race
of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore,
uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or
silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me
good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!

This is what Dickens referred to as the “Carol Philosophy” and we would do well to adhere to it. Dickens was often written off as overly sentimental and A Christmas Carol may seem to some a perfect example of this. Even many Christians may be inclined to consider the ‘Carol Philosophy’ an overly ‘bourgeois’ conception, failing to address the deep horror of sin in the world and thus failing to recognise the immensity of its “sacred origin“: a God descending into the midst of the world in order to be crucified for our sins. Perhaps Dickens’ optimism clouds this from view, perhaps A Christmas Carol is simply a ‘feel-good’ story that warms our hearts without us having to stare too deeply into the misery of the world and realise the radical social changes necessary to bring about greater justice.

Yet such thoughts would be, in my view, mistaken. Of course, the vast scale of poverty on earth requires more than just almsgiving and charitable interventions at Christmas time. But if we focus only on grand-scale achievements it is all too easy to neglect the possibilities we have to exercise charity in the here and now, in our very own spheres of life.

A Christmas Carol is not a mere ‘feel-good’ narrative at all. It mirrors the Christian belief that for man to be redeemed, a supernatural intervention is necessary. No less than the visitation of the three spirits could redeem Scrooge. Without the spirits it would be inconceivable that Scrooge should undergo the massive change of heart which occurs at the end of the story. A man like Scrooge, who has cut himself off from fellowship with humankind and hardened his heart against joy needs a tremendous ‘jolt’. And this is precisely what Christianity proclaims: metanoia, a complete turning of one’s whole being, is possible only through grace.

To close oneself off from the source of all love and joy is to condemn oneself to the hellish misery of those spirits who find themselves condemned to walk abroad in death as they failed to do in life.”It is required of every man,” the ghost returned, “that the spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, and travel far and wide; and, if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death“. The agony they endure as in the afterlife is a direct consequence of their failures to be charitable towards their fellow man in this life: “the misery with them all was, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human matters, and had lost the power for ever.” This is a stark warning for us all not to waste our opportunities in the here and now to truly love our neighbour. This does not mean we need to embark on grandiose plans to ’save the world’. As Dickens puts it through the medium of Jacob Marley: “any Christian spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness.“

So we would all do well to heed the message that A Christmas Carol imparts. And, in whatever sphere of life we find ourselves in, to endeavour to be kind and charitable to our neighbours – our friends, family, workmates, all those we encounter in our daily lives – and know that even should we do this for the rest of our lives, it would still not exhaust our capacity for good. Let us then “honour Christmas in [our] hearts, and try to keep it all the year.”

Merry Christmas.

Aquinas’ Mariology (2)

From the earlier post looking at Aquinas’ and the popular view of Mary, significant differences will already have been noticed. Indeed one can sense Aquinas’ impatience with the popular views prevailing during his time in certain of his words. One such example can be found in Aquinas’ discussion of whether Mary was cleansed completely from the ‘inflammation of sin’ (she was not says Aquinas, though its effects were rendered harmless), when he remarks: “We can, then, ascribe to the blessed Virgin perfect virtue and grace’s full intensity without having to claim for her every occasion of perfect virtue.”(S.T. 3a, 27, q.3) Aquinas keeps the scriptural accounts of Mary always in view, and all the grace given to her is always given to her in such a way that its use is always “consonant with her way of life.” (S.T. 3a, 27, q.5) Thus Aquinas is clearly not representative of the popular view which would attribute to Mary every possible “occasion of perfect virtue” such as describing her as full of Biblical knowledge and so forth, in fact regarding this point, Aquinas expressly states that she did not have the use of wisdom as regards teaching for this did not befit her female sex (!). (S.T. 3a, 27, q. 5) Aquinas’ ’sexism’ (in scare quotes because it’s a bit of an anachronism) notwithstanding, the principle feature of his Mariology is that he does not wish to attribute anything to Mary which would not accord with her own admission that she is but a “lowly handmaid” of the Lord.

A reply given to a certain Friar Gerard when asked whether it was true that the Blessed Virgin repeated the words “a sword will pierce my heart” is characteristic of Aquinas’ attitude to what he saw as the excessive Marian devotion of his time: “In my opinion such frivolities ought not to be preached, seeing there are so many subjects for preaching that are absolutely true.” (quoted in H. Graef, ‘Mary: A History of Doctrine and Devotion’) Aquinas follows his teacher St. Albert the Great whose Mariology represented the authentic tradition and who maintained the close link between Mariology and Christology: “the cause of her veneration, of her glorification, is not her own person, but Christ.” (quoted in Graef) In this Aquinas differs greatly from the popular view which increasingly developed an emphasis on Mary as an individual with no attention paid to either her union with Christ or with the Church. On the other hand, whilst Aquinas’ Mariology clearly differed significantly from the popular view there are certain points of contact between them. His Mariology may have been far more restrained but he certainly had a strong devotion to her. He had no problem placing her above the angels and would surely have been happy to call her the ‘Queen of Angels’ and ‘Mother of Mercy’. She was ‘in some way’ Mediatrix of all graces and one could profitably pray to her to intercede on one’s behalf.

Having surveyed both Aquinas’ Mariology and the popular view, typical in his time and perhaps paralleling the excesses of Marian devotion that Protestants so fear, it is clear that Aquinas cannot be said to be a representative of the latter. He did not share the popular enthusiasm for the various myths and legends associated with the person of Mary and he was theologically far more reticent about Mary’s role in salvation, always wishing to maintain the union with Christ that gave Mary her significance. The popular view on the other hand concentrated more and more on Mary as an individual in her own right, to the extent that she appeared at times to take on a role of equivalent value to that of Jesus Christ. It might not be going to far to say that had Aquinas’ more sober approach been able to better infiltrate the popular mindset, the Reformers’ backlash against what they saw as the excessive and unbiblical attention given to Mary may not have been so great, and may not have caused them to abandon Mariology altogether as they eventually occurred in the Protestant tradition (Luther at least, had quite a ‘high’ Mariology). Aquinas’ entire attitude towards Mariology is encapsulated perfectly in his closing sentence from his lecture in Naples: “So therefore is the Virgin blessed, but far more blessed is the fruit of her womb.” (Exposition of the Angelic Salutation)

A Sober Mariology: Thomas’ view of Mary (1)

Medieval man’s attitude towards Mary was one of great devotion, she was seen as the ‘Mother of Mercy’ and mediator between them and Christ. It was felt that they could unreservedly commend themselves to her as their advocate. This view of Mary as the Mother of Mercy arose in part due to the emphasis on Jesus as judge, who was often portrayed as stern and unyielding in regard to sinners. This notion grew to such an extent that Mary was apparently seen as, having power over the bestowal of divine Mercy itself, as is shown in the 13th century Mappa Mundi in Hereford Cathedral. In fact, Mary was held in such high esteem that she was considered second in dignity only to God himself. With the growth of the Marian cult it is not surprising that various myths should have grown up around her. The rather scant account of her one can find in the canonical gospels was supplemented by various other stories which were taken from such works as the Book of James.

One can find far fuller accounts of her life in works such as The Golden Legend by Jacobus de Voragine. These accounts present Mary’s life in such a way as to parallel certain gospel narratives. This can be seen in the account given of Mary’s parents Anne and Joachim. Joachim receives an ‘annunciation’ of his own with an Angel telling him that his wife shall bear a child and that “she will be consecrated to the Lord from infancy and filled with the Holy Spirit from her mother’s womb.” Popular belief in Mary’s Immaculate Conception was unequivocal. Some theologians such as Aquinas rejected it, as had others including St. Anselm and even St. Bernard of Clairvaux who was otherwise renowned for his Marian devotion. Thus a popular legend arose sometime after the death of Bernard of Clairvaux that after his death there appeared upon him a black mark and it was widely believed that he was in Purgatory for having, in this case, spoken ill of the Virgin Mary. There are also tales of Mary’s childhood which of course does not feature at all in the New Testament: at the age of three she was presented at the temple and was able to mount “to the top without help from anyone, as if she were already fully grown up” and thereafter remained at the temple and had daily divine visions and visitations from angels. Mary had every possible perfection attributed her, despite there being no scriptural warrant for the myths that grew around her. During her life too, Mary excelled in every way and was even considered a great teacher of wisdom, proficient in knowledge of the Bible.

As well as the various stories about her life, there were also myriad stories about miracles that had been worked by the Blessed Virgin which fit in with the popular view of her as the ultimate intercessor. One such tale is that of a thief who had a deep devotion to the Blessed Mary and was miraculously kept from execution by the Virgin, after having being caught red-handed. Upon being released he is said to have entered a monastery and lived out his life in service to her. It is not surprising that such a tale would evoke a great sense of trust in Mary as Intercessor, seeing as she goes to the aid even of criminals who show devotion to her. In these folktales and miracle stories, however, it can be seen that Mary “undeniably usurps the unique privileges of Christ.” (Maria Warner, Alone of All Her Sex). These tales about Mary infiltrated the popular imagination, in particular through the medium of art, the visual image being readily accessible to all people regardless of education. The Scrovegni Chapel in Padua, Italy features various frescos by Giotto which detail the story of Mary and her infancy as elaborated in The Golden Legend.

This sort of hyper-mariology is of course one which many protestants tend to attribute to Catholics. Of course, nowadays, Marian devotion has decreased a great deal, but it isn’t difficult to find protestant polemics which focus on such excesses and it must be said that it is probable that some Catholics do in fact tend towards superstition when it comes to Mary.

In this sense then, it is fruitful to look at Thomas’ Mariology as a paradigm for Catholic views on the Mother of God: one which is always christocentric.

Aquinas’ Mariology is planted firmly within the context of his Christology – there is no separate section devoted exclusively to Mary – and is to be found in the Tertia Pars of the Summa. This in itself is a significant factor which points the way to an understanding of his entire Mariological outlook. Aquinas’ treatment of the theological importance of Mary cannot be divorced from his Christology – Mary is never spoken of other than in terms of what relation such and such a doctrine about her has to Christ. His Mariology is also based firmly on the accounts of Mary given by the Evangelists, and the opinion of Church Fathers, he does not look to apocryphal accounts of Mary in order to supplement his work.

Perhaps the best known aspect of Aquinas’ Mariology is his rejection of the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. It was a much debated issue during the thirteenth century as it was not yet a dogmatically defined article of faith for Catholic believers. It was of course dogmatically defined in 1854 by Pope Pius IX. Aquinas rejects the doctrine that Mary was sanctified from the very moment of her conception and was instead sanctified whilst still in the womb (S.T. 3a, 27, 1) Now, at first sight it may seem that it matters little whether she was sanctified from the moment of conception or whether this took place a short time after, and indeed the controversy of the time was sometimes characterised as a ‘controversy about a few moments’ (Karl Rahner). The issue at stake, however, was indeed one of importance. Aquinas’ difficulty lay in his inability to see how if Mary was indeed sanctified from the moment of conception, she could still be said to have been redeemed by Christ. If she had never been subject to original sin, she could not be said to have been liberated from it. This, Aquinas felt, would “derogate from the dignity of Christ” who is the universal Saviour. (S.T. 3a, 27, 3) Likewise in his discussion over whether Mary was completely cleansed from the ‘inflammation of sin’ he objects on the grounds that whilst this assertion may seem to be part of the dignity of Mary it is somewhat demeaning to Christ, for only he can be declared to be completely free from sin. (He does state, however, that whilst it was not wholly removed, it was rendered harmless.)(S.T. 3a, 27, 3)

Whilst Aquinas was unable to see how Mary, despite being immaculately conceived, could still be said to have been redeemed (It was the Franciscan John Duns Scotus who championed the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, arguing that the Blessed Virgin Mary was indeed redeemed by Christ and in fact could be said to have been the person most radically redeemed of all for to prevent someone from falling is better than to pick them up once they have fallen), he nevertheless asserted without hesitation that the Blessed Virgin committed no actual sin whether mortal or venial. Aquinas also states that she received a greater fullness of grace than all others and also argues that Mary was Mediatrix of all graces insofar as “by giving birth to him she brought, in a certain way, grace to all.” (S.T. 3a, 27, 5) In this minimal sense, I don’t think many could have serious problems with the notion of Mary as mediatrix of grace.

Aquinas’ Exposition of the Angelic Salutation (Ave Maria), a Lenten Sermon probably dating from 1273, also helps illuminate our understanding of his Mariology. Aquinas states that the Angel’s salutation reveals her to exceed even the angels in fullness of grace, purity and familiarity with God. Mary is also said to be above all other saints for “she performed the works of all virtues whereas the saints exhibit particular ones.” Aquinas’ discussion of Mary’s virginity also reflects his Christological concerns and one of his principle arguments for Mary’s virginity is that it is fitting that Christ should be born of a virgin. He holds that Mary was a virgin when she conceived Christ and also in partu (during the actual birth of Christ) and this is because it was appropriate that it should be so when one considers whose birth is in question, and because to lose her virginity would lessen the honour due to the Mother of God. Mary is also held to have remained a virgin throughout the rest of her life.

The whole discussion concerning Mary’s virginity shows clearly Aquinas’ concern to place Mary within a Christological context, that she was a virgin throughout her life has more to do with her being the Mother of God than with any considerations about her own person and any ‘honour’ due to her, although this too is taken into account. Aquinas states that it was fitting that Mary should have been espoused and that she truly was married against those who would claim otherwise. His final section on Mariology concerns the Annunciation to the Blessed Virgin, wherein he tells us that the Annunciation was made to inform Mary so that her free consent “which was petitioned during the course of the announcement” should stand “for the consent of all men.” (S.T, 3a, 30, 1) Mary is seen here as acting on behalf of the whole of mankind, not acting in her own right, so to speak. Aquinas can be seen to hold a ‘high’ view of the Blessed Virgin Mary, but it remains strictly within Biblical bounds and he makes sure always to subject her to Christ, who is the Universal Redeemer.

New Encyclical

Spe Salvi

Pope Benedict XVI’s new Encyclical has been released. A quick skimming reveals references to Aquinas, de Lubac, Adorno and Horkheimer, Kant and Marx.

Historical Jesus and Theology (3)

To finish up this series of posts on the quest for the Historical Jesus and its relation to theology I’d like to point to another argument in favour of the position which holds that the quest is essential is the danger of ideological appropriation of Jesus. If theology ignores the historical Jesus it leaves the path open to the ‘hijacking’ of the Jesus of history for propagandist reasons as occurred with the ‘German Christians’ in the Nazi era who denied that Jesus was a Jew and presented him as an Aryan. In the face of such a perverted ‘kerygma’ of a group’s own making is it not of the utmost irresponsibility of theology to ignore the vital question of the historical Jesus? From the perspective of Fundamental theology (apologetics) it therefore becomes of paramount necessity to demonstrate that the kerygmatic Christ is not divorced from the earthly Jesus but that there exists a fundamental thread linking the two. Further theological reasons for maintaining the essential nature of the quest for theology is the understanding of ‘faith’ itself. For faith is not merely an assent to various propositions but is first and foremost a question of trust and trust needs to be directed towards another person not a mere proclamation. The quest is therefore essential in order to enable theology to build up a picture of the Jesus in whom people believe, historical study can contribute to the “faith-image” believers have of Jesus, as Norman Perrin expresses it. It also allows for a constant critical self examination by the Christian churches to ensure that their comfortable Christian domestications of Jesus are challenged by disclosing the historical Jesus’ nonconformist aspects. (John Meier) Study of the historical Jesus can thus be seen as an essential corrective to a theology which might otherwise lose sight of the fact that Jesus was a particular human being in history. The argument that questing for the historical Jesus eliminates the risk of faith must also be seriously questioned, it is not the case that Jesus’ disciples were exempt from having to take a risk of faith: there was a decision to be made as regards Jesus even then and just as there were some who accepted him, there were others who rejected him. It is also to be pointed out that Bultmann’s position is to a large extent a result of his Lutheran perspective (i.e., an aversion to anything that might seem like “righteousness from works” rather than faith alone), and one filtered through existentialism at that. A final reason to regard the quest for the historical Jesus as essential to Christian theology is that provided by Joachim Jeremias, who is on the opposite end of the spectrum to Bultmann and who could be regarded as holding a somewhat ‘extreme’ position. Jeremias argues that Christian theology takes its impetus primarily from the words of the earthly Jesus himself, and that these words are the basis of the Kerygma. The quest is therefore seen as absolutely essential to Christian theology for it could not really exist without it.

The quest can thus be seen as an important and necessary to Christian theology. It is not however, the basis from which to build theology and faith cannot be made dependent on historical research as Jeremias’ position might seem to suggest. Neither could the theological enterprise truly flourish it were made constantly to refer back to what exegetes are now saying about Jesus of Nazareth. Theology is fides quaerens intellectum, ‘faith seeking understanding’, the quest is a ‘secondary’ consideration for the theologian for whom the faith of the church must remain the principle starting point, as it is found already in the New Testament and in the creeds of the church. I would suggest that the best way for theology to regard the quest is as an aspect of apologetics. A theologian cannot be expected to undertake a task as great as a reconstruction of the historical Jesus as a sort of prolegomena to his theology. It is enough that two aspects of Jesus are regarded as pertaining to the earthly Jesus himself: that he regarded himself not simply as one amongst a long line of prophets but as the eschatological prophet and that the resurrection of Jesus can be shown to be historically credible. Whilst this notion of carrying out research for the historical Jesus will obviously be regarded by some as simply an attempt to legitimize Christian faith and thus be compromised by being in a certain sense ‘predetermined’, one can answer that claims to complete objectivity in scholarship are somewhat spurious and unattainable, as Crossan himself remarks and that much of the work of those who ‘discover’ a Jesus not particularly amenable to Christian theology is often compromised by the adoption of a post-Enlightenment worldview. The complaints, for example, that the work of someone like N.T. Wright simply present a ‘biblical Christ’ reveal a great deal about those critics, for such a complaint could come about only from those who set out with the presupposition that the historical Jesus simply could not be the biblical Christ. This also really begs the question whether a Christian theology can from the outset even regard the separation between ‘Christ of faith’ and ‘Jesus of history’ as legitimate. Of course one must then consider the importance at the very least of engaging in an attempt to prove the historicity of the gospels. The issue cannot simply be dismissed and theology cannot insist on the historical validity of the gospel accounts of Jesus without answering those who claim to be discovering a historical Jesus quite different from that proclaimed by Christian faith. This bears certain parallels to the debate over the relationship between theology and philosophy. Whilst one can take a ‘Barthian’ approach and insist on the self-sufficiency of theology and present it in an almost positivist way, the Christian tradition has for the most part acknowledged the need to dialogue with the ‘secular’ world in a manner which allows for an intellectually respectable expression of the Christian message, and which is thus capable of engaging with those ‘outside’. The fact that groups such as the Jesus Seminar have their findings entering the mainstream through the media requires that theology undertake historical research of its own, lest it leave the field entirely open to those who are finding a Jesus who has little affinity which that preached by faith.

In conclusion the Quest can be said to be essential to Christian theology but primarily as a minimalist task. It is enough for Christian theology to demonstrate that between the historical Jesus and later Christology there is a fundamental link which ensures that one does not think of theology as having simply invented a ‘Christ-myth’. A wholesale reconstruction of the historical Jesus by biblical scholars is perfectly legitimate and may prove an aid to theology but is not in and of itself an essential aspect of theology for which the gospel portraits of Jesus must serve as the norm. For it is these portraits which give us Jesus as he was seen through the eyes of faith and which present to theology the Jesus who is the object of Christian faith.

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Free Journal Access

Just a heads up for those who may be interested in reading scholarly theological articles but aren’t at University and have no access to online databases, or maybe even those at University who don’t have access to Sage Publications: if you sign up now you will have free access to all their journals until the 30th November and can download articles and so forth.

There are some theology journals there such as Studies in Christian Ethics, Journal for the Study of the Historical Jesus, Ecclesiology etc.

Might be of interest to some.

http://online.sagepub.com/

The Historical Jesus and Theology (2)

The ‘idealist’ position denying the quest for the Historical Jesus any theological relevance was adopted by the dialectical theologians of the 20th century such as Karl Barth and Rudolf Bultmann for whom any attempt to ground faith in historical certainty was theologically impermissible on the basis of the Sola Fides of the reformers. There is also the influence of Soren Kierkegaard, the ‘father’ of modern existentialism who stressed the either/or aspect of Christian faith, with the Christian message presenting itself as a challenge demanding existential commitment or rejection, not as an assertion to be historically verified before one made a decision. Bultmann expresses it thus: “The word of preaching confronts us as the word of God. It is not for us to question its credentials [by historical research]. It is we who are questioned.”

From this perspective then, it is theologically unnecessary to inquire into the details of Jesus’ life; moreover it may also be theologically impermissible as doing so would be an attempt to remove the risk of faith in response to the ‘preached Christ’. There is no possibility of absolute certainty, the only historical assertion necessary is that Jesus lived and died on a cross. This position frees theology from the contingent nature of historical research, and allows it to reflect on the Christian proclamation without fearing that its death knell might be pronounced at any moment by historical research: such a faith. as Karl Adam remarks, would be “useless”. A contemporary exponent of this view is Luke T. Johnson who argues in a similar manner to Kahler that the Gospel narratives are written with a focus primarily on Jesus’ death and resurrection. Whilst they are evidently concerned with Jesus’ humanity and aspects of his life and teaching, the emphasis does not lie there. Thus the proper object of theology is the Resurrected Christ as portrayed in the Gospels; for Johnson the quest for the historical Jesus cannot therefore be undertaken with primarily theological motives. The testimony of the Gospels themselves is that the death and Resurrection of Jesus are the normative basis for Christian theology.

This position, however, is one that is open to serious criticism. There are strong reasons to suppose that research into the life of Jesus is not only relevant but essential to Christian theology. One of the principle dangers inherent in denying the historical Jesus any relevance for theology is that theological affirmations become mere mythical assertions. Although one can affirm with Bultmann the independence of theology from historical research, one cannot go to the extreme that Bultmann went to, for if there was no objective historical event which correlates to theology’s assertions there would exist only a mythological idea. Thus even Karl Barth. who shared to a large extent similar convictions to Bultmann, became increasingly concerned at his existential approach to the Resurrection which appeared to suggest that it had no historical foundations and came to emphasise the empty tomb narratives (Barth however, maintained despite this that the resurrection remained closed to historical investigation). It is this apparent collapse into myth if one rejects the role of history in theology which justifies the Quest for theology.

The centrality of the notion of the incarnation to Christian theology is another reason why the Quest must be given attention. Christian faith is “an act of faith in the historical Jesus as the manifestation of God” (Crossan) and thus the words and deeds of the historical cannot be of no interest to theology which believes that the ‘Word was made flesh’ and entered history. This is pointed out by Ernst Kasemann, a student of Bultmann who inaugurated the ‘new quest’ in his 1953 lecture at Marburg. He remarks that even the Gospel of John, which is the most theological of the four and has developed its Christology further than the synoptics in the light of the resurrection faith, is nevertheless concerned with Jesus’ earthly history as the sphere wherein revelation takes place. The Easter experience did not render the experience of the earthly history of Jesus superfluous; it confirmed it. If this were not the case the Christian faith could be charged with creating “the Christ of salvation ‘on the occasion of’ Jesus of Nazareth”. If theology does not wish to become mythological but remain firmly grounded in history as the sphere of God’s revelation it must take account of the historical Jesus: “This inescapable Jesus-centeredness [for theology] is the result of the incarnation: it not only permits but demands historical study.” This concern with the implications of the doctrine of the incarnation for theology’s relationship with history is exemplified in the work of Pannenberg and his insistence on the resurrection of Jesus as an historical fact open to investigation. It is the contention of those theologians who stress the importance of the historical Jesus for theology that any dismissal of the earthly life of Jesus is a lapse into the heresy of docetism, where the Logos only has the appearance of being a human being.

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History and Theology: Is the Historical Jesus essential to Christian Theology?

Historical-critical research on the Gospels has, in the eyes of many, rendered an uncritical acceptance of the Gospel texts as completely historical accounts documenting the words and deeds of Jesus of Nazareth, impossible. It has long been acknowledged that the Gospels (our principle source for information on the historical Jesus) are not objectively neutral accounts of the life of Jesus in the manner one might expect of a modern biography but confessional documents written in the light of the faith of a community which believed Jesus to have risen from the dead after his crucifixion therefore being vindicated and exalted by God. This recognition lead to the distinction being made between the ‘historical Jesus’ and the ‘Christ of faith’. The question Christian faith and theology must face is whether the search for the historical Jesus is in fact of importance, perhaps even essential to theology or whether theology need only be concerned with the Christ of faith. The theological issue lies in the ambiguous nature of historical research which does not produce definitive results; the question is therefore naturally raised about whether these results can serve as the base for theological assertions, or whether theology is essentially independent of historical investigation.

One approach to this problem is to deny the quest for the historical Jesus any theological relevance. This position can take a basically ‘idealist’ form in which the question of the historical Jesus is regarded as irrelevant due to the fact that it is the symbol of Christ as a source of religious and ethical guidance and challenge which is considered of utmost importance. This position is not one which can be adopted by theologians who would wish to classify themselves as essentially Christian. The most common approach which pays little heed to the historical Jesus as a source for theological affirmations is that which affirms the historical Jesus as a presupposition for the kerygma of the Christian community but is not concerned about learning the details of Jesus’ life. This position can be seen as having originated with Martin Kahler, the first great critic of the ‘life of Jesus’ research, in his lecture ‘The So-Called Historical Jesus and the Historic Biblical Christ’. It was Kahler’s contention that “the historical Jesus of modern authors conceals from us the living Christ”. For Christian faith which believed Jesus to be the “unique sinless person” there could be no use of historical analysis which uses analogy to determine its results. Whilst Kahler’s argument was directed against the original ‘liberal’ quest for the historical Jesus and thus may not actually apply to the newer quests which can be viewed as possible and legitimate, he makes extremely pertinent points which must be answered by Christian theology. His concern about how one can come to know Jesus Christ is of great importance: would humanity need recourse to historical-critical methods in order to believe? The point being made is that historical research cannot be normative for faith, or as Kahler expresses it: “I cannot find sure footing in probabilities or in a shifting mass of details the reliability of which is constantly changing”.

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Part 3 of this topic

Some More Reflections on Rahner

Recent expositions of his work have called into question the idea that the transcendental philosophy which Rahner adopts is crucial to his theology. The rather ad hoc approach of Rahner to theology has been pointed out; he preferred essays rather than systematic treatises. Even Fergus Kerr, who in an earlier post was referred to as pointed out a basically Cartesian starting point for Rahner has come to Rahner’s defence. He does this in the final chapter of his Immortal Longings where he discusses Balthasar’s critique of Rahner. According to Kerr, Balthasar is striking out at phantoms so to speak, when he charges Rahner’s theology with reducing the particularity of the Christian faith to the mere expression of the human subject’s self transcendence. I’m afraid I can’t elaborate further on Kerr’s analysis as I read the chapter some years ago and no longer have access to the book. I would definitely recommend that anyone interested in a defence of Rahner read this chapter.

Now, it need not be denied that the language in which Rahner expressed his conviction that the human person reaches beyond himself to an answer to which he is the question is not particularly felicitous and there is always the danger that such a theology will be all too anthropocentric. However, is it really all that different to the Augustinian emphasis on man’s desire for God? “Thou hast made us unto thyself [ad te], and our heart is restless, until it find rest in thee.“

Rahner’s own evaluations of his work should also be taken into account. His disavowals of being a ’systematic’ theologian and of actually being something of a dilettante should be taken as more than just false humility on his part. In later interviews he also distanced himself from certain aspects of his work and did not like being pigeon-holed into the philosopher-theologian niche based on readings of his early work and called Spirit and Hearers “lopsided works of my youth” (Faith in a Wintry Season). Rahner also became increasingly aware of the plurality of philosophies, the impossibility of one, single unifying philosophy – what he called “gnoseological concupiscence”. These evaluations by Rahner of his own work militate against ‘foundationalist’ readings of Rahner.

I think no clearer statement can be found on the centrality of Jesus Christ for theology than this one by Rahner:

“Christianity’s concretissimum for which alone it stands, is Jesus Christ, who in accepting death and suffering for us (and in no other way) has created our relationship of immediacy before God, and the Church, which looks for the Kingdom which is yet to be fulfilled and which is not identical with the humanism we ourselves have produced or shall produce in the near future.“

Rahner thus emphatically affirms the capacity for the Christian faith to disrupt and transform as much as he affirms its power to complete and intensify our deepest spiritual longings.

But although grace may disrupt nature but whilst it overturns the creature’s expectations it also fulfils their deepest desires. Grace is first and foremost God’s self-communication, the gift of himself. This is not something ‘alien’ to human nature, but humanity’s self-fulfilment, the bringing to completion of the human being’s desire for God. To reject this is to reject an entire strand of Christian tradition.

For those who feel that Rahner’s theology is too ‘universal’ it is perhaps worth bearing in mind what Rahner says here: “Just because grace is free and unmerited this does not mean that it is rare (theology has been led astray for too long already by the tacit assumption that grace would no longer be grace if God became too free with it).” (Nature and Grace, Dilemmas in the Modern Church)

As for Rahner’s much contested Vorgriff auf Esse – the pre-apprehension of being: does not Balthasar require this too? He admits it himself, otherwise the human being would not be able to recognise the coming of beauty. To an extent then, the differences between Rahner and Balthasar are a difference in emphasis.

Given Rahner’s views on God’s offer of himself as a constitutive element of humanity, it becomes clear that reflection on human experience is not going to provide merely the structures of a ‘purely’ human nature, but of a human nature already historically engraced and existing in the presence of the divine.

Rahner also introduces the notion of “negative philosophy” by which he meant that all philosophical reflections on human experience are inadequate to the task. This along with his emphasis on the pluralism of philosophies once again undermines the idea that Rahner adopted one particular philosophy to serve as the foundation of his theology. He explicitly rejected this possibility.

Other writers have highlighted the principle source for Rahner’s theology: his spirituality. Rahner’s work is ultimately rooted in his Ignatian spirituality, with its emphasis on “finding God in all things.” I think this emphasis on Rahner’s sprituality is salutary. One book on Rahner aptly describes him as a “mystic of everyday life” and this is one of the principle reasons I am drawn to Rahner. He speaks to the situation ordinary men and women find themselves in during the daily struggles and also joys of life. One can read many a brilliant theologian and wonder how on earth all they say relates to their own life. Not so with Rahner. He writes on sleep, on work, on eating. Anyone new to Rahner could do no better than start with his writings on prayer and the spiritual life, for these are the wellspring of his theology, not his early philosophical works.

It is also important to bear in mind the context in which Rahner formulated his ideas about “anonymous Christians”. First of all, he was not the first, Barth and de Lubac had already begun considering this. Barth in his assertion that in our dealings with those to whom we are directed to preach the gospel we are not encountering an ‘actual’ Christian but “certainly a virtual or potential Christian” (!) Balthasar too, would not wish to deny it. The notion of an implicit “baptism of desire” could also be seen as belonging to this tradition. One of the occasions when the idea of an “anonymous Christian” comes up is in an essay entitled “The Christian and Unbelieving Relations” – as one can see just from the title, there is a very practical starting point here; it arises from a specific, concrete situation that many Christians find themselves in and the purpose of the essay is to develop the idea that a Christian need not remain in agonising anxiety as regards the eschatological fate of relations who do not believe. The starting point for all these reflections was, again, NOT his transcendental philosophy, but the Christian doctrine of God’s universal salvific will. Rahner recognises this hope for all when he says that all people “including the good Christians, enter silently into the darkness of God, and no mortal eye follows them there on their way, no earthly ear listens to the judgment of their eternity. But this uncertainty can be contained within the hope for all.” (The Christian among Unbelieving Relations, TI 3)

Could this not have come from the pen of Balthasar himself? Consider for example Balthasar’s impassioned defence of the possibility of the salvation of all men in Dare we hope? This issue was one of supreme concern for Balthasar. Could the difference between the two lie in the fact that Balthasar sees no need for the development of a formal scheme for how the salvation of non-Christians can take place? Or rather, that he sees the inherent dangers in doing so? (i.e. the possible relativisation of Christianity). But is it not the task for Christian theology to work out these issues in its reflection on the faith? Nostra Aetate perhaps is a pointer: it remained silent on the issue – but is this just a matter of leaving it open to theologians to work it out? Rahner thought so.

Balthasar’s theology of Holy Saturday provides powerful hope for the salvation of all men, but I’m worried it remains somewhat ‘gnostic’ and fails to account for how grace is encountered in this life. Human beings are socio-historical beings, how is grace encountered if not through concrete practices? Thus Rahner’s assertion that grace can be encountered in lawful religions and that the religions themselves are the means by which grace becomes available seems necessary. Of course, Rahner never said that all religions were necessarily lawful or that they were not in a gravely deficient situation as opposed to Christianity. He explicitly does argue this and never goes as far as one of his followers such as Jacques Dupuis who calls the religions “paths of salvation” and refuses to accept that they are merely “transitory” as Rahner insisted.

Rahner also addressed the issue of whether his speculations rendered Christianity a mere superfluous and explicit manifestation of what is already there implicity: “Anonymous Christianity does not render explicit Christianity superfluous, but rather itself demands it, and that there would no longer be any anonymous Christianity . . . if he upon whom it is bestowed as offering were radically to close himself to any explicit Christianity” – (Anonymous Christianity and the Missionary Task of the Church, TI 12)

As Rahner put it: a seed has no right to refuse to grow into a plant. One could not choose to remain in the implicit depths of faith once encountered with the explicit offer of Christianity existentially efficacious – to do so would be to reject grace.

Rahner was adamant that Christianity was the one, true valid religion and that “wherever in practice Christianity reaches man in the real urgency and rigour of his actual existence, Christianity – once understood – presents itself as the only still valid religion for this man, a necessary means for salvation.” (Christianity and Non-Christian Religions, TI 5)

As regards the charge that the theory of “anonymous Christians” does away with the Church’s missionary imperative I’d be inclined to suggest that the theory behind the terminology is in fact helpful in explaining how mission may even be possible! Look, in contrast, at post-liberal theories of “incommensurability”: if it is really true that different religions are wholly incommensurable then the missionary has a serious problem in addressing what is going to be a completely alien language to those he wishes to ‘win over’. If it is really the case that non-Christians have no experience of the grace which flows from Christ, then any preaching of the Christian message will be falling on deaf ears. They will not be able to understand and they will see no reason why this message relates to them at all.

The terminology is perhaps unfortunate and Rahner did not pretend otherwise. It was never meant to signify that Christianity could ever forego its character of proclamation and witness. Likewise from the perspective that it is a somewhat ‘arrogant’ or ‘imperialistic’ appelation: he did not intend it to be used in inter-religious dialogue. That said, I find the criticism that the term is problematic because it is in some way offensive an odd one. It is the consequence of a resolute adherence to the truth that Jesus Christ is the absolute, universal saviour, that all grace flows from him. One cannot really take issue with the principle of the matter without also taking issue with a central truth of the Christian faith.

It is not the case that ’special revelation’ is merely one instance of general revelation as has been claimed. For Rahner, ‘general revelation’ (or transcendental revelation as he puts it) flows from the special revelation in Jesus Christ. This is obviously not a chronological dependence.

There is obviously a tension between the two different visions represented by two theologians such as Rahner and von Balthasar, but I do neet feel that they are wholly incommensurable, and what is needed is not the opting for one over the other, but a means by which to hold the two in balance as two different ‘poles’ of the same Christian faith. We must definitely not”genuflect before the world” as Jacques Maritain had it. But neither should the relationship between Christianity and ‘the world’ be construed in too dialectical a fashion. In uniting the two poles, we ought to aim at a Christian humanism, that whilst giving due emphasis to the transformative power of the Christian message, does not thereby cut off all ties with the religious element of humanity as such. The religious strivings of humanity are not simply a “fabrica idolorum” (as Balthasar affirmed).

Considering there are 23 volumes of Rahner’s Theological Investigations available in English, which cover countless different topics related to doctrine, ecclesiology, spirituality and various other questions that address themselves to Christians today, the idea that Rahner is somehow ‘overrated’ and not really worth reading any longer needs to justify itself more fully. Rahner is not best read as the author of a ’system’ which must either be accepted or rejected wholesale. Dip into his essays, focus on matters that interest you at any given moment, you are sure to find incisive creative wisdom from the man whom von Balthasar himself considered “to be, on the whole, the strongest theological power of our time.”

Charles de Foucauld Quote

“To love anyone is to hope in him for always. From the moment at which we begin to judge anyone, to limit our confidence in him, from the moment at which we identify him with what we know of him and so reduce him to that, we cease to love him and he ceases to be able to be better.”

- Charles de Foucauld