“The great mystery of life is not suffering but affliction.”

“The great mystery of life is not suffering but affliction.”—Simone Weil

Simone Weil (1909-1943), born Jewish, stood on the edge of converting to Christianity for most of her adult life.  Perhaps she was baptized, perhaps not, the evidence is unclear.  She is best known as a Christian mystic, though that ignores her very down to earth work, such as her involvement in the trade union movement, and with the international volunteers in Spain.  Weil starved herself to death in sympathy with the occupied French.  If you think that makes sense, you may stand closer to Weil than you think, closer than you should.

If biography were philosophy, we could dismiss Weil as emotionally disturbed.  Disturbed or not, she wrote brilliant essays on a variety of topics.  As she grew older, most were about God.  It is her essay on “The Love of God and Affliction” that I am concerned with.  It’s a brilliant essay, and it’s quite wrong.

The mystery of affliction

What does Weil mean by the mystery of affliction (malheur)?  It is not surprising, she says, that the innocent are killed, or that people suffer from disease.  Criminals and germs (nature) account for that.  But it is surprising that God would have given affliction the power to seize the souls of the innocent and possess them as though they were the worst people on earth.

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The Book of James: simply right and simply wrong

The Book of James: simply right and simply wrong.

I haven’t spent much time on this blog going through particular books of the Bible.  But sometimes it’s fun (do I have a strange sense of fun?), and it’s almost always worthwhile.

The Letter of James is one of the shorter books in the New Testament, 5 chapters, none very long.  It doesn’t have any great stories.  It doesn’t have any stories period.  Yet, it’s popular, many readers seeming to regard it as a “sayings” source, like Proverbs.  Yet, it’s not so simple.  James has a thesis: good deeds are the substance of faith.  He also makes a big mistake.  Every horror is not a test of human faith.  God should respect human limits in the tests he imposes.  He explained himself to Job, but no more.

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Kierkegaard is wrong: an absurd God is not good

Kierkegaard is wrong: an absurd God is not good.

I’ve posted three times previously on Søren Kierkegaard   As with all my posts, I’m always trying to figure out the gist of someone’s argument by presenting it to others—that is, you dear reader.  I think I’ve finally “got” Kierkegaard, and I think he’s fundamentally wrong.

The three stages of life

Kierkegaard says that there are three stages to life: the aesthetic, the ethical, and the religious.  The aesthetic life is concerned with pleasure.  The ethical life is concerned with living by principle.  If married, I should follow the principles of marriage, which are loyalty, care, and love.  The ethical man acts in a way he would want others to act.  It’s actually pretty close to the golden rule, which in turn is pretty close to what Immanuel Kant called the categorical imperative.

The religious stage is where it gets complicated, because Kierkegaard subdivided the religious stage into A and B.  We reach the religious stage when we see that the principles that guide our lives are not merely a product of human reason, but a divine imperative.  Failing to live up to these principles is not only unethical; it is an insult to God.

Kierkegaard makes a big deal out of the difference between what he calls “religiousness A and religiousness B.” (CUP, p 494)  The main difference is that in religiousness A, God is thought of as comprehensible by humans, and understandable by reason, at least to a certain degree.  There is continuity between the ethical and religiousness A.

Stage B, which Kierkegaard sometimes calls simply Christianity, is where God is beyond human reason, infinitely different and utterly inexplicable.  Kierkegaard frequently uses the term “absurd” to characterize this God and his commandments.  The experience of God as absurd is good, for it means we have abandoned trying to understand him.   To act on the absurd is to act completely on faith (Journal).

“Religion B” is a bad idea

In Isaiah 55:8, God says “my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.”  This makes sense.  We should not expect God to be a larger and more powerful version of a human.  To fail to recognize and appreciate God’s otherness is a mistake.  Nevertheless, God’s commandments, his presence in our lives, must be recognizably good, decent, and moral, or he is no longer a God that humans can worship.

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Christianity and technology

Christianity and technology.

Beginning in 1943, a small group of Christian intellectuals began to think seriously about the post-war world.  The United States and Britain had talked about victory since the beginning of the War, but no one was certain, and many had grave doubts.  But by 1943 victory was in sight, even if its details were not. 

These Christian intellectuals included Jacques Maritain, W. H. Auden, C. S. Lewis, Simone Weil, and T. S. Eliot.  Auden and Eliot were poets, and Lewis, an Oxford don, is probably best known for his for his children’s fiction, Chronicles of Narnia.  I’ve posted about Lewis and Weil  elsewhere on this blog.  The relationship among these men and woman was rich, complex, and varied.  Some worked together, some alone.

The Problem

The problem they worried about is what sort of people the winners of this war of civilizations would become.  What values could substitute for that of winning the war?  Would the technological thinking that won the war destroy the values we fought for?  It might, they argued, and they only thing that could stop it was an education that fosters humanity, sensibility and pity.

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Would you forgive a Nazi mass murderer?

Would you forgive a Nazi mass murderer?

It is difficult to state clearly the New Testament’s view of forgiveness.  New Testament views would be more like it.  Nevertheless, the central claim seems to be that forgiveness should be offered as many times as it is needed.  In Matthew (18:21-22), Peter asks Jesus how many times he should forgive someone who sins against him, suggesting the answer might be seven.  Jesus replies “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” (Or seventy times seven in some versions).  Seven represents the number of completeness and perfection in the Bible, and the point of course is that for forgiveness to be perfect, it must be impossibly generous.  Jesus expresses much the same point in Mark (11:25) when he states that when people pray, they must forgive anyone anything and everything, so that “your Father in heaven may forgive your sins.” 

The Sunflower, or would you forgive a Nazi mass murderer

Little in Christ’s teachings suggests that I am required to forgive someone for an act against a third party.  Yet, this issue comes up often in discussions of forgiveness.  It is the main issue that seems to divide Christians and Jews in their responses to The Sunflower, a story told by Simon Wiesenthal. 

The gist of the story is straightforward.  A young Nazi is dying in a hospital located near a concentration camp where Wiesenthal is imprisoned.  While being marched past the hospital in a work detail, a nurse selects Wiesenthal from the group of inmates and takes him to the room of the dying Nazi, who wants “a Jew” to hear his confession and grant him forgiveness.  Evidently brought up in a good Catholic home, the young Nazi had willingly committed terrible atrocities against innocent Jewish civilians, burning many to death.  Will Wiesenthal grant him forgiveness before he dies?

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Forgiving a mass murderer: the Amish

Forgiving a mass murderer: the Amish

I want to tell you a story about forgiveness.  It’s begins with the murder of five Amish school girls, and the critical wounding of five others, at a one room Amish school house in Nickel Mines, Pennsylvania, USA, on October 2, 2006. 

The girls, the oldest of whom was thirteen, were murdered by a demented local man named Charles Carl Roberts IV, who brought with him to the schoolhouse a semi-automatic pistol, six hundred rounds of ammunition, a shotgun, a stun gun, plastic ties to use as handcuffs, sexual lubricant, and a board with nails to barricade the school door shut.  The teacher managed to slip out the side door almost immediately and ran for help; three policemen arrived within minutes.  Ten more police arrived several minutes later.  Negotiations were brief.  Hearing shots from inside they stormed the school.  Roberts had shot himself in the head, but not before shooting the ten girls.  

That evening, three Amish men went to visit Amy Roberts, Roberts’ widow, who was staying with her parents.  “We just talked with them for about ten minutes to express our sorrow and told them we didn’t hold anything against them,” said one of the Amish visitors (Kraybill, p 44).  Several miles away, an Amish man went to see Carl Roberts’ s father, spending about an hour with him.  A spokesman for the Roberts family later said “He stood there for an hour, and he held that man [Mr. Roberts] in his arms and said, `We forgive you.'”  Presumably Mr. Roberts’ father did not need forgiveness in any of the ways we ordinarily understand the term today, but perhaps that was not as important as the visit and the holding. 

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The Book of Revelation isn’t nuts, but it subverts the spirit of Christianity

The Book of Revelation isn’t nuts, but it subverts the spirit of Christianity.

For years I thought the Book of Revelation was insane.  After reading what several scholars have written about it, I no longer believe that.  The Book of Revelation makes sense as a coded attack on Rome, among other things.  While I understand its place at the end of the Bible, finishing a journey begun in Genesis, I still don’t believe Revelation belongs in the Bible, for it subverts the message of Jesus and the Gospels.

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What’s so great about eternity?

What’s so great about eternity?

For all its importance in Christian thought, the concept of eternity in the Bible is remarkably unclear.  The two most important Christian thinkers, Augustine and Aquinas, place God outside of time, in what is called the nunc stansNunc stans is the opposite of the way we ordinarily think of eternity as time going on forever.  In the nunc stans, you experience all of time in a single moment.  Or you would if you were God. 

As Augustine put it, we pass through God’s today.  The experience would be something like seeing time as though it were space, a plane spread out before you.  You might focus on one part of the plane or another, but all time is there to be experienced in a moment.  The term is Latin (no surprise).  Nunc means now, and stans refers to stand.  In the nunc stans, all of time stands before you.

Not in the Bible

Trouble is, that this way of thinking about time is nowhere in the Bible (I’ll confine myself to the New Testament, but the problem is found in the Old Testament as well.).  The Greek term aeonios, for which so many translations mistakenly use the word “eternal” is derived from the noun “aeon.” “Aeon” means “age” or “ages.”  Thus, the word translated as eternal really refers to an aeon or age, not forever.  When Jesus says “I am with you always, to the end of the age (αἰῶνος), he does not mean forever, but until the end of the present age—that is, until the eschaton.  Aidios (αιδιος) is the ancient Greek term for eternal, and it is used only once in the Bible in reference to God (Romans 1:20). *

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