thread: 2006-09-08 : Salvation, damnation, justification, a la Sydney
On 2006-09-10, Sydney Freedberg wrote:
1.
Iain, got you. I appreciate your concern, but this discussion has done more to strengthen my faith than anything I've done in a long time—not only by forcing me to think hard and systematically (and yes, I suppose I could over-intellectualize), but more importantly by giving me an opportunity to stand up and try to be brave for once.
2.
Raven and Vincent, why is Christianity best? "Because it's true," obviously, but that's not entirely an answer. Christianity has one thing no other faith has, and that's Jesus Christ. My God doesn't hand me down commandments from a mountaintop; He comes down and becomes human and shows me what to do. Teaching by example is the most effective way to teach—and leading by enduring everything you ask your followers to endure is the most inspiring way to lead.
You see that I'm not particularly focused on the life to come, other than the fact that it's there, in some form, reassures me that death, evil, and entropy don't ultimately wipe out everything I care about? What I'm looking for is strength to live today. "One day at a time."
Although, when it comes to afterlives, are you really attracted by reincarnation? Oh, Lord, we have to do all this again? I'd much rather get to do something radically different, even learning to play a golden harp really well and piloting my fluffy cloud—and of course whatever salvation is, it'll be a lot more interesting than that. Remember Heaven is not the place you go when you die, in orthodox Christian theology: You die, you stay dead, and then you rise again at the end of time, at which point (assuming that, y'know, Judgment Day goes well for you) you take your place in whatever God has planned next—which, given how cool this universe is in spite of sin, suffering, and death, has got to be pretty spectacular.
Episcopalian I like in particular because of the "scripture, tradition, reason" logic—the very deliberate emphasis on balance, on dialogue, on showing respect and yet being willing to challenge, on holding to the old truths and yet constantly seeking new ones. That this posture has put the Episcopal Church on or near the front lines of social equality since the civil rights era is particularly gratifying.
Honestly, though, Episcopalianism varies widely from congregation to congregation, and if your local Episcopal parish happens to be one of those old-fashioned upper-crust social-climbing ones with spirits as dry as dust, or a reactionary bunch considering defecting from the church in protest against gay bishops, or just screwed up because of personalities and internal conflicts, I'd advise you to check out another church of whatever congregation. Baptists aren't Episcopalians, but it's not like the difference between following Christ and following Cthulhu. The theological and organizational differences among mainline Christian denominations are much smaller than the local and personal differences among congregations.
An "honest try" to see which parish works for you is probably about three Sundays, to be brutal about it. An "honest try" to see if Christianity changes your life? God knows—three years?
3.
And now the big question:
Vincent: That's all stories, though, isn't it? I mean, you say "God does this" and "Jesus did that," but is there any reason for me to believe that any of it, y'know, actually happened? Athena gave success to Odysseus, Jesus rose from the dead, King Arthur invented chivalry, Moses parted the Red Sea, the Easter Bunny lays chocolate eggs, Titania fell in love with Nick Bottom. Stories, you know?
Vincent, I know what you mean. I keep on wondering, "God loves me? Personally? Really? And wants to help me not die? C'mon, that's got to be wishful thinking." And it might be. I might be utterly wrong. It happens.
But having been trained as a historian and have made my living as a journalist, I can say I like the evidence for Jesus of Nazareth a lot better than the evidence for Athena, or even Odysseus, or even Moses parting the Red Sea.
The Gospel stories break the laws of physics a lot less badly, for starters: Multiplication of loaves and fishes, calming of storms, a bunch of healings, and two resurrections (Jesus but also Lazarus), versus Athena erupting fully grown out of her father's head and the entire Red Sea shifting bodily sideways.
And I've got four Gospels, at least one (John) of which many scholars believe were written in the lifetime of people who had seen Jesus personally—that, in fact, the Gospels were written because the first generation of Christians was dying off and people wanted to get their memories in writing first. They don't feel like they've been polished by generations of oral tradition or by a single author; they feel like the products of frantically getting down everything any eye-witness could remember:
a) They are choppily written, full of abrupt breaks from scene to scene and with striking quotations remembered out of context from what must have been much longer sermons and dialogues. (C.S. Lewis notes a particularly lovely example in the Book of Acts, in the trial of one of the apostles, where there appears to be a verbatim transcription of an attorney's opening statement, with all its flowery classical rhetoric, and then a swift degeneration into synopsis, as if the author suddenly realized he couldn't transcribe fast enough).
b) They contradict each other all over the place on secondary details: Was Jesus born in Nazareth or Bethlehem? How many people were fed with the loaves and fishes? Did it happen twice or once? Did Jesus preach for one year or three before being crucified? At the empty tomb, one angel or two? Real eye-witnesses to complex, highly emotional events contradict each other like this all the time; it's the bane of prosecuting attorneys.
c) But all four Gospels are remarkably consistent on the essential touchstones of the story: Jesus grew up in Nazareth, was baptised by John, went into the desert, healed and preached, gathered 12 close companions and many other followers, went to Jerusalem, was arrested by the Jewish religious authorities and executed by the Romans, then rose again.
By contrast, compare any two versions of the King Arthur legend: Was Mordred the product of incest or not, or was he actually King Arthur's ally? Did Perceval find the Grail, or did someone else, and who did the Grail heal anyway? Did Arthur die or sail off to Avalon or what?
There's even a near-contemporaneous acknowledgment by a non-Christian that Jesus existed, namely a reference in Josephus's The Jewish War—written at the end of the 1st century AD about the revolts against the Romans—that mentions Him as a rabble-rousing preacher and the bastard son of a Roman soldier. That's a damn sight better than "well, maybe this Ambrosius Artorius guy we have actual historical references to is the basis for Arthur, sort of."
We also have the historical oddity that of all the mystery cults and messianistic movements in the 1st century Middle East, only one exploded across the Roman world in the short run and flourished globally in the long run. And it exploded not after its founder conquered a vast area (as Mohammed did) or led a people out of slavery into their own country (like Moses), or became a revered guru with many acolytes (like Buddha), but after its founder was brutally executed and his followers dispersed. And yet the apostles don't act like defeated men: They change the world. And they create a tradition—yes, tradition, again—that endures 2,000 years and covers the world.
4. And some questions back to Vincent:
You said: The reason I don't believe that God exists is because I trusted God to exist and He let me down, very consistently. Sooner or later, light dawned: I was doing everything He demanded, it wasn't me that didn't exist.
Vincent, I'm being sincere, not rhetorical here, though it may sound brutal:
Was it God that let you down, or your family, or your community, or the world, or yourself? God's in all of those things, of course; but God's not the only thing in any of us, I'm afraid.
How do you know you were doing what God wanted? If you were in the wrong religion, then you were getting garbled instructions to start with. And, guess what, I'm not a Mormon, I don't believe Jesus appeared in the Americas to bring additional teachings to the people there, and I'm very sure that "polygamy is cool" wasn't one of His teachings to anyone anywhere, so I'd say you were in the wrong religion (a heresy, to get technical). Even if you were in the right religion but with the wrong people, you were still getting garbled instructions—that's them exercising their free will to choose to fail you miserably, you see.
Why do you think the issue is "doing what God demands"? Quite the contrary, Christianity assumes we'll screw it up most of the time, being human, which God expects and forgives.
Conversely, what exactly did you think that doing what God demands, if it were humanly possible to do it, was supposed to get you in return? I don't know exactly what you mean by being "let down," and it's probably not my business to know the details. But for what it's worth, Christ is NOT promising that good things will happen to you, or that the world will make sense to you, or that horrible things won't happen to people you love, or that you yourself will not do horrible things to people you love—God knows I have done on occasion.
Christ is promising you to stick with you and give you the strength to keep going in spite of all the evil in yourself and the world, even death itself: "Take up your cross and follow Me."
