A Theology of Hope

Last week I attended a Senior Ministry Project by a 3rd year MDiv student entitled "Where is thy victory?" In this very provoking project, a courageous individual took on the notion of the "after-life." My brief comments cannot do his project justice, and I am sure he would have much to say in response to my reflections. Nonetheless, I found his argument great fodder for further thought.

The conclusion of his project is startling and deserves some explanation: Desiring for/Hoping in an afterlife is Demonic. If you're head is swirling, I think that was the point. He begins with a simple, yet maybe agreeable premise: Humans are finite. For him, to be human is to be a limited, conditioned being--to be anything less, or more, would be "inhuman." He considers the "inhuman" the "Demonic."

If, as finite creatures, we cannot look into the abyss of death and accept its radical limiting reality on us as finite, human creatures, then, in some sense, we long for what is more than human (to endure as more than human, as infinite, eternal beings--no matter how you come to construe the afterlife).

This is, for him, a moment of idolatry--a demonic urge. We, in our desire for or hope in an afterlife reveal our idolatrous craving for what is not human, for what we are NOT as created creatures of God.

So, then, what do we do? Give up? Live life like "the devil?" No, he says, live life with the courage to affirm who it is that you are: finite creatures of God. Don't be dissatisfied with your limited, human nature. No, take it upon yourself, live life "in spite" of your limited existence: have the "courage to be." (He draws heavily on Paul Tillich for his theoretical framework, but, he firmly admits to take Tillich where Tillich may not want to go).

For this individual, the afterlife is a kind of idolatrous hope that exposes our sinful longings to be exactly what we are not. To overcome this, he thinks, we must admit that this is not the case (and, it seems to me, that this is CERTAINLY not the case). We MUST admit that we do, in fact, only live until we die, and, after that, cease to be.

I am far less radical, although I think that Tillich, and this 3rd year student, have important insights for us. For me, to look into the abyss of death, its radical finality, as a real POSSIBILITY is what matters. I want to grant that my life, as a human, is circumscribed to the realm of the finite, conditioned, and even contingent. Moreover, I want to resist the popular and prevalent theological notion that we should be driven by eternal reward or punishment--I am not, nay, SHOULD NOT be, motivated by this reductive notion of core self-interest.

However, I think we can reside in our limitedness; in our reality of unkowning what becomes us after this life. In other words, our hope need not be grounded in eternal life, nor must we affirm the ACTUAL radical finality of death. I find it unconvincing that THERE MUST NOT BE an afterlife for us to experience the life-changing transformation that comes, I believe, with the Christian witness.

The humility that the Christian message generates, the self-critical stance we take towards ourselves and others in our fallible condition of sinfulness, can bring us to the brink of that great abyss and cause us to look deep into its depths. How should the Christian message play out if it were true that we did not live beyond the grave? Would the message change? For me, it does not. My Christian witness is not grounded in an eternal life, THOUGH THERE MAY BE ONE. My notion of right and wrong, good and evil, is not dictated by heaven or hell. The longings for my ever-lasting life are, I agree, idolatrous--but, so would assuming that we know what God has in store for those who Love God. For, "No eye has seen, no ear has heard." We live in that perpetual state of expectation, not hoping for our reward or punishment, but for that eschatological moment of transformation: The arrival of that Kingdom--the Kingdom of God.

This is our Hope. This is our message. This is our call. As Christians, I believe our Hope is grounded in that grace-filled reality of the Kingdom, and whether I get it or not is beside the point: for I hope in IT, not in me. I long for IT, not me. My theology is a theology of Hope, grounded in a Kingdom I may never see--but one which drives me nonetheless. This is the transformation that our Christian witness can testify to, and in this, we might find our rest before God.

"I" am not "Me"

I have recently been attending a tremendously difficult class taught by Jean-Luc Marion called "Negative Certitudes: The Phenomenology of the Impossible." This class has been tough to wrap my mind around, but it has also produced some interesting reflections which, I believe, have powerful theological implications. Specifically, we have been discussing the nature of a definition of "human essence."

What Marion, and others, want to assert is that we cannot get to the deepest dimension, phenomenologically speaking, of human essence. There is something that escapes our reflective powers. We can think about it like this: "I" reflect upon objects as they present themselves to me in my experience. "I" see a chair, a table, an apple. These "objects" are objects in the sense that they are disclosed to me under certain conditions (namely, the condition of being attended to in my experience). But, I do not just have access to external things, but also inner things (myself). Yet, my inner reflections must also have an object, and that object is "Me." However, I cannot fully reflect upon my inner self, because the object "Me" does not include the dimension of my self which is doing the reflection. In other words, every reflection needs an "I" to reflect, an "I" that stands outside of reflection.

From this it seems that "I" can never get to the "I" in my reflections, I'm left only with that part of myself that is capable of being subject to my own experience: "Me." From this, we can say that "I" am not "Me." Or, to say it differently, I can never reduce who it is that I am to "Me." I am always more than who I can think myself to be. The "I" is that mysterious element of myself that escapes reflection and any adequate definition of human essence. It is the part of myself (and, by extension, you) that, if we think theologically, could reflect the mysteriousness of God. If, as many religious thinkers like to think, we are created in some image-related way to God, then, this mystery may be a part of our very selves.

This opens up all kinds of neat things to think about. I would love to hear what you think.