by Delwin Brown
With the evils of the world we are "sweetly burdened" Languishing as in a nap on a warm summer day, our awareness of these realities moves vaguely onto the fringes of consciousness. But, usually, after brief and dreamy glimpses of these evils, we let them go and slip back into our slumbers. And so we continue in our collusion with evil.
'Ihat is the view of sin that I think progressive Christians should consider: We fail, we hide, and our failings and hidings build into seemingly binding, but comfortable, modes of life in which love of God and others is manipulated, twisted, cheapened, distorted, denied, or virtually destroyed.
If we think this view of the human condition is at least close to being right, we might be moved to utter a biblical lament that heretofore would probably have seemed a bit overdone, echoing Paul's words to the Romans: "'The whole creation has been groaning in labor pains" (8:23). We might even cry in despair, "Oh wretched mess that we're in! Who will rescue us?" At about this point, however, another biblical conviction could conceivably come to mind. It is the strangely confident insistence that there is a Power at work within us, just as we are, that is able to do far more than we ask, more, indeed, than we can even imagine.
'Ihat's the topic of the next chapter.
POINTS FOR REFLECTION
• Modern discussions of sin have not been very useful. Sintalk has been anti-world, anti-sex, anti-female, anti-pleasure, and opposed to equality and self-affirmation, just to mention a few of its drawbacks.
• In classical Christian theology, sin takes two forms, pride and sensuality. Already our hackles are raised! We are all supportive of pride, and why should anyone think sensuality is a sin?
• By "pride" the tradition meant excessive self-regard in relation to others, assuming for oneself more than that to which one is entitled. "Sensuality" meant the opposite failure, thinking of oneself less highly than one ought to think.
• Viewed in terms of the two great commandments, sin is loving too much, or loving too little, any part of the interconnected web of life, from God to all of those whom God loves and in whom God is incarnate.
• 'Ihe more insightful Christian traditions ask, Why is our failure to love as we ought so persistent and pervasive? "Ihe answer it gives has to do with self-deception, hiding the truth from ourselves.
• Sin is not simply the failure to love properly. It is that failure accompanied by the pretense that we have loved as we should. We hide our failure, even from ourselves!
• The doctrine of "original sin" is not a denial of human goodness, and it is not about sex. It is about the layers of evilracism, sexism, consumerism, egotism, etc.-structured into our existence. We begin our lives in the midst of these.
• Christian tradition "suspects" that we rather happily acquiesce to the evil structures in which we find ourselves. Our failings build into unjust and self-serving structures ... and we find them to be quite comfortable!
Chapter 7
Salvation:
Seeking and Finding
merican culture is awash in offers of salvation. Usually such offers admit to being limited in scopethe salvation of your back from pain, your nights from sleeplessness, your marriage from boredom, your children from mediocrity, your mind from shallowness, your home from foreclosure, your country from decline. These and others-some very serious and well worth attending to, most far less so-all reinforce a fact so pervasive and obvious that it almost escapes consciousness: A lot of things in life need to be "fixed"
'Ihe Christian idea of salvation is about how to get life fixed at its most basic level. In this respect, Christianity is like every other religion. All religions take the position that however good life may be, still something fundamental is "out of joint" and needs to be repaired. Mhos, they offer ways of correcting or transforming what has gone wrong. They provide a variety of paths to healing and health, "salves" of a fundamental and comprehensive nature that will remedy what is diseased. It may not be too much of a simplification to say that religion is about God (or Gods), God is about salvation, and salvation is about the most basic form of health.
The types of salvation offered within other religions parallel those offered within Christianity. Salvation, for example, is either spiritual or material in nature, for the individual soul or for individuals-in-community, for human beings or for all of creation, available in the present or in the future, forgiveness or transformation, a gift bestowed or a product of human seeking.
From the perspective of a progressive Christian vision no such choices can be made. Salvation includes all of the above.
Salvation through Christ
If a progressive Christian understanding of God is grounded in an interpretation of Jesus Christ, then so is an understanding of the salvation that God somehow makes possible. In other words, if our understanding of Jesus is the clue to our concept of God, it is also the clue to what salvation means. In chapter 3 we took the concept of incarnation as central to Christianity, as that concept is worked out in the christological councils and then applied to the audacious vision of salvation in Romans 8. The implications of this incarnational understanding of God for our view of salvation can be summarized in four points.
First, according to the Council of Nicea, the incarnate God, manifest in Jesus, is fully and truly God, not some lesser form of divinity. 'Thus, the salvation made possible by God incarnate is fully and truly salvation, not some preliminary or lesser form of healing. The real God makes possible real salvation.
Second, according to the Council of Constantinople, the full and true God is incarnate in the actual world, in ordinary humanity, and following Paul's vision in Romans, throughout the natural order. 'thus, salvation is a possibility for the entire creation "as it is" including humans "as we are" "the God incarnate in ordinary life makes salvation possible for ordinary people and the ordinary world.
'Third, according to the Council of Ephesus, God is incarnate not only in, but also through, the creation. "thus, salvation is made possible not only in but also through the natural order of things. The God become incarnate in history through nature makes salvation possible through natural processes, both nonhuman and human.
Fourth, according to the Council of Chalcedon, in the incarnation full divinity and ordinary humanity are united "without division, without separation" Again, following the elaboration of the concept of incarnation implied by Paul, the process of divine salvation is one with the ordinary and natural processes of the world, without division, without separation.
If the term "natural" is understood expansively, and not in a reductionistic (i.e., mechanistic, deterministic, materialistic) manner, this progressive Christian view of salvation, like the view of God on which it depends, is a form of "Christian naturalism." But the better label for this progressive Christian perspective is a strictly theological one, "incarnationism. Ihe God at home in this world saves this world through processes that are part and parcel of this world. Salvation is bringing the entire creation to fullness of health, not abandoning it. Salvation comes through the complex personal, political, social, and environmental processes of the created world, not in opposition to or distinction from them.
If traditional "otherworldly" views of salvation are difficult to comprehend, a "this-worldly" or incarnational view is scarcely less so. Developments in science continually remind us that we are far from understanding what "world" means. How then can we speak clearly about the salvation of the entire world? Explorations of personal, social, political, cosmic, and spiritual processes and their relationships are also embryonic. How then can we be clear about what would constitute their "health"? And when the inconclusiveness of these languages is added to the visionary character of theological reflection, it becomes apparent that talk of salvation will always be more than a little . . . well, imprecise! It will be imaginative talk, poetic talk. It will be metaphorical.
Two biblical metaphors, I believe, will be especially instructive for a progressive Christian understanding of salvation. One is the
idea of the "kingdom" or (to use a better translation that eliminates the "kingly" overtones) the "reign of God." The other is the image of "eternal life" The former is central in the synoptic gospels-Matthew, Mark, and Luke-while the latter is central to the gospel of John. They are very different views, each intuiting distinctive aspects of the Christian hope for salvation. But they complement one another in interesting and important ways.
The Reign of God
There has been throughout Christian history a hope and belief that God's "reign" would come into the world as it is in heaven-or, in the language of the Lord's Prayer, that God's will would be done on earth. The metaphor of the reign of God implies that the world, which God created, is moving or will move toward some kind of fulfillment reflective of God's will. 'Ihis expectation raises three questions: How will this "reign" cone about? When will it come about? And what, concretely, would it mean for human life?
How this fulfillment will come about is portrayed variously in the biblical tradition. One group of views clusters around the "messianic" model. Although in later Christianity the concept of messiah took on supernatural connotations, earlier the messiah was an exceptional human leader who would rise up when the time was ripe and bring the divine reign into being. 'Ihe coming of God's reign-the pervasive enactment of God's will for life in the world-would come about naturally, with human leadership, as the culmination of historical development. A second group of views builds on a very different model, one that is apocalyptic in character. 'Ihe coming of God's reign would be a revolutionary intrusion into nature and history from the outside. It would be a radical break from all that had preceded it, instigated by a divine "son of man" who would "cone down from above" Fulfillment would come through divine intervention into nature and history.
When will the reign of God occur? In the New Testament there is a consistent answer-that is, a consistently ambiguous answer. In the preaching of John the Baptist the kingdom is said to be "at hand." Similarly, Jesus, in the synoptic accounts, says the kingdom or reign of God "has come near to you" or "close to you" (Luke 10:9), or "is among you" (Luke 17:21). What these formulations clearly do not say is that the reign of God is internal and private, "within you, as Luke 17 has long been translated and is still commonly recited. But neither do they state a specific time-now, tomorrow, or in the more distant future. Instead they systematically blur the difference between present and future. New Testament scholars, therefore, typically characterize the reign of God as something that is always breaking in upon us but is never fully here. It is already, but always, in process. The reign of God, we might say, is the "always-future" that is already beginning to appear in our midst.
Finally, what is the reign of God? It is not a spiritual thing, or rather, not simply a spiritual thing. It is also social, political, and economic. It is human and non-human, individual and collective. In all of these dimensions of life, it is wholeness and fullness. 'I he reign of God is, most succinctly, fullness of health throughout the whole web of life. Perhaps the most apt term for the reign of God in the Hebraic tradition is shalom, which means peace, but it is a peace that arises out of the interrelated health of things.
The biblical conception of the reign of God should form the core of a progressive Christian conception of salvation. Seeking salvation means seeking the healthful fullness of all the creation. Salvation comes into being (drawing on the messianic rather than the apocalyptic model) through this-worldly processes of nature, history, interpersonal relationships, and the dynamics of our individual lives. The reign of God, salvation, is always future, but equally it is always a future that is already breaking into our midst.
There is real salvation in this life. Furthermore, it is fully salvation, not some temporary or stopgap measure until a better "solution" for healing comes along. It is already breaking in upon us in the variety of ways that we celebrate and cherish-a request for forgiveness, a change of heart, a growth in love, a dedication to values beyond the self. It is coming among us in the father's nurturing love of his infant, the pastor's visionary leadership of her congregation, the educator's insightful exposure of racism, the corporate executive's insistence on fair employment practices, the labor leader's work on behalf of living wages, the citizen's defense of a sustainable environment. It comes near to us in legislative action that curbs bigotry, extends freedom, improves education, provides health care, encourages economic equality, recognizes the integrity of all the creation and promotes its well-being.
'Ihese-like Jesus' treatment of the Samaritan woman, his healing of the sick, his ministry among the outcasts, his overturning the tables of the money changers, and his assurance of forgiveness-are genuine "in-breakings" of salvation. In them and through them the incarnate God is working. Salvation, viewed from the perspective of the reign of God, is the process of bringing the creation, at any point and any time, toward the fulfilled and healthful community that is envisioned in the ideal of the two great commandments.
Eternal Life
'I he second biblical image of salvation, appearing in the Gospel of John, is the idea of eternal life. Contrary to what we might hear in church eternal life does not mean living torever. It is not about the "immortality" of the "soul" It is about a quality of the life lived in God. For the progressive Christian, it is the quality of a life lived in the incarnate reality of God.
'Ihe most important, and head-turning, part of the idea of eternal life is the insistence in John's gospel that eternal life is now: "Anyone who hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal lite, and does not come under judgment, but has passed from death to life ..." (5:24). "Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life" (6:47).
the life of one who believes in the God incarnate in creation has a distinctive character. It is not (necessarily) distinctive in virtue or knowledge; it is different because it is lived with a particular self-understanding. This difference is the character that a particular life takes on when it is lived as if it has been accepted ("assumed;' to use the language of the councils) into the life of the incarnate God. Living in the world is also living in the God who has assumed the world. Eternal life is life suffused by that belief.
If the metaphor of the reign of God highlights the objective side of the Christian view of salvation, the image of eternal life emphasizes its subjective dimension. We sometimes speak of the latter as the experience of ultimate or abiding "meaning." Do our lives have some significance beyond what they contribute to the achievements of love in the web of creation? The answer implicit in the notion of eternal life is that they do. Our lives find a place in the life of the everlasting God who is incarnate in creation.
People and cultures come and go, mountains and seas appear and disappear, perhaps even worlds go in and out of existence. God is the creative good-person, principle, or process, all three ways of understanding God are employed by progressive Christians-that pervades the creation, seeking to move it toward more wholesome forms of order. What we do somehow makes a difference to God, contributes to the divine aims, adds to the divine life, enriches the divine experience. This is the "eternality" of our lives. Our lives have an everlasting meaning or worth as they find a place in the God who "assumes" them and all of life.
But there is a troubling downside to eternal life. Not only the good, but also the evil, as it happens, is accepted into God's reality. All that we do has permanence. 'Therefore, in a nonliteral but nonetheless disturbingly real sense, there is a hell as well as a heaven. I leaven is the permanence of every achievement on behalf of love, however partial, and the permanence of every action that contributes to that achievement, in the reality of God. But hell is real, too. It is the permanence of the good "that might have been, and was not"'' Every destruction, every loss, every failure to love God, self, neighbor, and the rest of creation-these, too, are taken up as indelible facts in the being of an incarnate God.
Christians believe in divine grace, a grace that empowers and a grace that forgives. But forgiveness is
not forgetfulness. Forgiveness is God's acceptance ("assumption") of our lives "in spite of " our failure to love, despite our destructive side. Divine grace makes sense only if there is some real meaning to "hell;' and if grace is everlasting then so is failure. But, thankfully, we may also say the opposite: If failure is permanent, so is grace.
And what about "personal immortality"? Do we also contribute to God's life as we now contribute to each other, as dynamic and self-conscious selves? That is not precluded by the idea of eternal life. True, some theologians note that even in the New Testament it is God "alone [who] possesses inunor- tality" (1 Timothy 6:16). Our desire for our own immortality, they say, is like the temptation of Eden; it is hubris, the longing to be like God. Even so, confidence in some sort of personal existence beyond death is part of the more common New Testament vision. Unlike the Greek idea of the immortality of the soul, however, in the biblical tradition existence beyond physical death is the continuation of the full person-not just the isolated, immaterial "soul"-in the environment of a new or renewed world.
Whatever we may think about personal immortality, the notion of "eternal life" is different. It is the claim that the ultimate meaning of our life is its contribution to, and its inclusion in, the reality of God. We diligently seek the coming reign of God in the world. The meaning of our labor is found not only there, but also, and abidingly, in the incarnate God whose purposes we serve. A life of fifty, five hundred, or an infinity of years gains its fundamental significance, not by its sheer longevity, but by its acceptance into the Abiding Life that everywhere and always seeks the good.
The Entire Created Order Set Free?
Christian talk of salvation would in any case be fragmentary, intuitive, metaphorical. It is especially so if that salvation is said, as Paul claimed, to encompass the "entire created order." This should not surprise us. All talk, of any sort, about a better world and the human role in bringing it about is the samefragmentary, intuitive, metaphorical.
