Why should I be afraid in evil days, when the wickedness of those at my heels surrounds me, The wickedness of those who put their trust in their goods, and boast of their great riches? We can never ransom ourselves, or deliver to God the price of our life. For the ransom of our life is so great, that we should never have enough to pay it, in order to live for ever and ever and never see the grave...But God will ransom my life; He will snatch me from the grasp of death." (Psalms 49:4-8, 15, BCP)
I read the Psalms always as the song of three individuals. First, it is the song of the Psalmist, whether David, Asaph, or some other who first set these poems down. Second, it is the song of Jesus, perhaps even in the very hour of agony, for we hear that he cried aloud from the cross the opening words of Psalm 22. But even if He did not speak them at that hour. He lived them. They are clearly prophetic of Himself and Psalm 49 is no exception. Third, the Psalms deserve the name given to the great Canticle of Revelation, they are the Songs of the Redeemed. They are not always the songs of the redeemed triumphant, but they are the songs of the redeemed, whether angry, hopeful, or triumphant. They are songs I pray that all shall live some day.
But Psalm 49, even more than Job, always has seemed to be the strongest statement in the Old Testament of the chief predicament of all too mortal flesh united to a rational soul. No matter what, we are going to die. As Sophocles would say, "Neither wealth, nor war, nor tough sea-blackened ships" can keep death from us. We are absolutely helpless before it. It would be easy here to see us here not as damned but merely mortal. And from there, it would be easy to say that we have no need for God and simply will free ourselves of attachment to this world and embrace the nothingness. But we are not irrational creatures, I am afraid. Our souls will not fade or dissolve harmlessly into the world-soul. As Aristotle said and his medieval editors redacted, the disembodied soul is potential. Surely, this state is not a happy one. But we have come to this conclusion only by stripping away context. The divine economy is somewhat different.
What we have missed is that the association between sin and death must have been implicit in the mind of the Psalmist. Much of the ritual content of the Law can be read as an attempt to avoid and repudiate not simply human death but human non-life: human corruptibility. To violations of both the ritual and moral content of the Law, the Law attached criminal penalties. And within the Law, evildoers are not only promised civil repercussions for their actions but the curse of God and one's own people that leads to death. And this famous choice between life and death, the blessing and the curse, we are told in Matthew 25, shall be assessed finally at the end of the present system of things, drawing one side to the heavenly banquet of eternal life and the other side to the outer darkness and fire of the second death.
And if the Psalmist were David, this association would be strong for him as well. His adultery, his murder plot, and his census of his people all had drawn the death-causing wrath of God upon him and Israel. He had seen Saul unmade by his sins. And he had seen death visited not merely on the instigators of sin but on those who were mere participants (even innocents): his first child with Bathsheba, his subjects, and the great love of his life: Jonathan. I often think that these incidents might not have been God's wrath but the consequences of rejecting His protection by sinning against Him and others. For indeed, the death of David's first child with Bathsheba (presuming she had not had one by Uriah) was likely statistically. David chooses between a variety of awful natural disasters that could have happened to Israel anyway. Saul and Jonathan died at the hands of their enemies. Thus, divine punishment need not always be the mighty show of power of God in the deluge or in the execution of judgment on the gods of Egypt in Exodus, but it might simply take the form of exposing us to the death-dealing, corruptible side of physical and human nature as opposed to its providential side. (Derek, by the way, has some great thoughts on Job today, which have been helpful to my present cogitations on the theology of nature.)
But I think whatever the exact mechanisms that are involved, when we sin, we embrace corruptibility and death. Even considering the base price of our life, which surely is extraordinary, we incur in our lives a tremendous amount of debt, not only to our Creator, but among ourselves. "Debt" is merely shorthand for our limited understanding of this, of course. Jesus problematized it in this way on occasion. And who cannot be moved by the gospel songs that talk about account books and payment in full? Is the popularity of such a view a symptom of the power of the market economy over our mind? Yes. Is this necessary a bad thing? No. But we must remember in His last week of life, Jesus kicked the moneychangers out of the Temple. His righteous violence surely arose out of his objections to taking large profits selling sacrificial goods or exchanging foreign coin for "kosher" Temple silver. But it likely also was a sign to us about the difference between the divine economy and the market economy. In the Temple, the worshippers paid money for their sacrificial animals. Jesus offered Himself for our sins for free.
Thus, we finally get the issue of justification. First of all, I claim that the question of justification is poorly and erroneously posed if we talk about how we are righteous in God's eyes. More specifically, I reject all problematizations of justification which see us as the primary active party in the cause of our own righteousness. I do not reject this, because it is simply harder to argue for justification by grace if we ourselves in this way. Frankly, I am not an enthusiastic fan of either justification by faith or by works as they often are explicated. Because it often seems that faith simply becomes a form of works. Justification by faith also can be explicated in ways that put the focus on what we do or hold as an affection or habit etc. Instead, I think we should problematize God as the chiefly active party in our righteousness, for indeed Psalm 49 and its context should tell us we are helpless to make ourselves righteous, to build up stores of righteousness wherewith we can buy eternal life. Instead, the key of Psalm 49 seems to be verse 15: How do we become righteous in God's eyes and worthy of ransom and rescue from the grip of death? This I think is the chief question of justification.
In the era of the Articulators, there were two main answers to the question of justification, seemingly called by the names by which they were problematized by the Protestants. Justification qua justification itself seems to be a Protestant problematization, stemming from Martin Luther's exegetical revelation concerning Paul's quotation of Habakkuk in Romans 1:17. Using the original Greek, justification then would be dikaeopoesis . Though I think Luther was quite right in identifying some idea of this type as quite essential to Pauline theology. The first we know as justification by faith. The Augsburg Confession claims a Pauline origin for this doctrine, particularly Romans 3 and 4. But indeed much of the Epistle to the Romans is relevant to justification.
But we should be careful: Paul's discussion of these issues begins with his presently notorious discourse on the consequences of idolatry. Again, we see the idea that what is often called God's wrath has an aspect not of something which God inflicts upon us but something to which God abandons us. To some extent, such thinking may stem from God being put in the role of the master of the household or ruler, who has the power to hand us over to the executioners, people at the margins of the social order charged with putting disobedient slaves or subjects to torture and then death. But the summary point of this discourse following "Whoever is justified through faith shall gain life" seems to be the corollary: Whoever lacks faith is clearly unrighteous and deserves death.
Next, Paul warns those to whom he writes that if they participate in the same unrighteousness, they merely are depositing to an account filled with retribution that will be loosed on them at the end. 2:4 puts it, "Or do you despise the wealth of kindness and tolerance and patience, failing to see that God's kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?" Thus, it seems that the difference between the Christians and the pagans, if we may call the two groups this, is that God is letting the pagans receive the full consequences of their depravity, whereas Christians are receiving some sort of protection from it. Yet this protection apparently is insufficient to keep us from sin completely. In 2:7, we are told that those who do well and pursue the virtues of the Lamb (not Paul's language: he says glory, honor, and immortality) shall have eternal life, whereas those who continue to be ruled by the selfish ambition (of their fallen natures) we presume will receive the same retribution as the pagans. Jews and Gentiles, though judged differently (one by the Law and the other by the Law written by reason on their hearts), both still will be accountable somehow. But again Paul says, "None will be justified by hearing the law, but by doing it." All of this sounds very much like justification by works. The presumption, however, is that righteousness inside or outside the law still will be insufficient, since it should be clear that we are unable to save ourselves by our own righteousness, as we have said before. Finally in this chapter, Paul like Christ warns that external adherence to the Law means nothing if the Law has not conditioned the heart. Thus, what small righteousness we have in ourselves either comes from a heart conditioned (or written) by reason or adherence to the Law. But in general, this small righteousness still is overpowered by the general weight of our condemnation.
Next, Paul quotes the Psalmist's most famous lines on human depravity, "There is no one righteous, not one..." in favor of his assertion that "Jews and Greeks alike are under the power of sin." The small righteousness of what we have spoken has the effect in Paul's words of bringing to us "the consciousness of sin." Like the old saw that the more you learn, the more you realize how little you know, the more we do good, the more we know we mainly do evil. Job is certainly one of the most righteous characters of the Old Testament, and yet he admits quite freely his sinfulness and need for an advocate with God on account of his sins. What Paul points out is that the righteous of the OId Testament looked for has now been made known to the world through Jesus Christ. And thus Paul repeats the content of the doctrine that so amazed Luther in the ennui of his own small righteousness, "and are justified by God's free grace alone, through his act of liberation in the person of Jesus Christ...to demonstrate his justice now in the present, showing that he is himself just and also justifies anyone who puts his faith in Jesus."
Does anyone see something strange in this? Christ's sacrifice is the demonstration of God's justice. Aren't we used to seeing Christ's sacrifice as the demonstration of God's mercy? And I don't read justice and mercy as being the same thing. Paul likely knew enough about dike as understood by the Greeks and Romans to know it "consists of handing over to each his own." Mercy consists of forgiving the obligation of justice by the one to which something was due by justice. Nor is Paul's line of argument suggestive of any other notion of justice. God's wrath is fully just because it gives death to those who deserve it. How is Christ's sacrifice just rather than merciful? How is overlooking our sins just rather than merciful? Now, Jack Miles might say God had promised liberation to the Jews, thus Christ's sacrifice was just because it fulfilled that promise. Paul probably was thinking in this direction, because he talks next about the promises made to Abraham because of his faith being fulfilled in Christ. But Paul suggests the scope of God's justice is more universal, for he is the God of both the Jews and the Gentiles, and thus He provides justification that is general, "without distinction." Faith and salvation are offered freely to all. The Fathers saw the general promise of Christ's sacrifice in the curse of the serpent in Genesis and the promises to make Israel the means of glory to the Gentiles. Thus, the justice of God demonstrated through Christ's sacrifice is certainly justice in that it is a fulfillment of promise and covenant.
The next question to ask is why did God make promises at all. The promises themselves were not just but acts of mercy. We do not deserve such promises. Paul answers this question in Romans 5:8, "But Christ died for us while we were yet sinners, and that is God's proof of his love towards us." At the final analysis, God ransoms us because He loves us. Paul tells us we are justified by faith in Romans 3 and 4. In Romans 5, he tells us we are justified by Christ's sacrificial death. The exact mechanism of these justifications, however, are not a matter of acts in ourselves, as the names justification by faith or justification by works suggest. Instead, Paul founds our justification on a process of participation in the mighty acts of God executed in Jesus Christ: a process which Paul constructs in Romans 5 and 6 as a syllogistic and process-oriented repudiation of sin, death, and non-life in us.
We emulate, we imitate, we die with Christ, so we might rise with Him. If anything the process of our justification by faith resembles that woman afflicted by a chronic discharge (Luke 8). We in ourselves are unclean, excluded from sacred rites, and the general society of our fellows, but if we can touch the hem of Christ's robe, we shall be healed. But as Christ tells the woman, our faith that such a yearning shall be honored is essential to our justification. Thus, it seems that it is necessary not only that one have faith in Christ, His life, His death, and the promise of salvation through Him. It seems also necessary that you hope, wretch though you are, not merely to believe in these things but to live them. Thus, the catholic side of me sees justification through faith in participation in the sacramental life of the Church and my Quaker education tells me that I should seek the same sacramentality in the whole of life. As Paul says in Romans 6, "Therefore sin must no longer reign in your mortal body, exacting obedience to the body's desires. You must no longer put any part of it at sin's disposal, as an implement for doing wrong. Put yourselves instead at the disposal of God: think of yourselves as raised from death to life." Need I say more?
But is there another option? Looking at the Decree of Trent on justification, the Canons do not line up perfectly with our discussion of justification and of the Articles. There is an interesting note in the main body of the decree on justification being the communication of the merit of Jesus Christ to us, an idea which I certainly appreciate for its proper posing of the issue. Canon VII apparently contradicts Article X in that it suggests some of our works before justification are not sinful. Yet Article X admits good works as a potential class before justification (as does Augsburg) and likewise admits a class of good works that are unpleasant and unacceptable to God. This appears to be a case in which the Articles admit the existence of unusual and paradoxical concepts in order to permit latitude in belief.
Canon IX speaks to the issue of mere belief creating no justification, claiming some effect of belief on the will is necessary. I do not see how this contradicts the Apostle certainly. Various Canons speak of no salvation by believing in salvation etc. I do not see these as problematic. At issue, I believe is Canon XXX, which states that the grace of justification does not remove the debt of temporal punishment in this world or in Purgatory. This Canon suggests there was erroneous thinking hidden in all those Canons that I thought perfectly innocuous. Now, I am not going to bother explaining what this thinking is. One can read the Schoolmen for these matters. But the implication of such thinking I must reject utterly. Salvific grace is not imperfect. Where does God say to any, "I shall ransom you from death to life but rough you up a little as satisfaction for my trouble"? If we are saved, we are saved. I do not exclude the possibility that the workings of salvation in the world to come may involve some sort of purificatory act: the washing in the blood of the Lamb or even a purification by fire. But I do not imagine this to be what Christ problematized as debt. Instead, if there be such purification, it shall be like someone dressing for the wedding of his or her best friends or the preparation of a bride for her wedding. We shall put on incorruptibility as perfume and immortality like our Easter finest.
Tetzel might as well have been selling the Brooklyn Bridge. And Luther caught him at it. But Luther surely realized and we should, too, that Tetzel merely was a poor student of some great but impoverished thinkers. For justification by faith appears to be at the heart of Pauline doctrine and that is wealth not to be disdained.
Wherefore that we are justified by Faith only, is a most wholesome Doctrine, and very full of comfort, as more largely is expressed in the Homily of Justification.
I can't find a link for the Homily, which is one of those great Elizabethan homilies. Peter Toon of the 1928 Prayer Book Society apparently made a recording of it, but the link no longer works. In compensation, I link to Richard Kew's recent discussion of the Elizabethan homilies .
In closing, I would like to continue to add to my thoughts about the development of Christian doctrine in its social context. It is very clear that while justification by faith is a Pauline concern, its fuller elucidation as doctrine came about because of the intersection of theology with church polity and the market economy. Yet justification by faith arises out of the rejection of those social conditions for the sake of the Gospel. Does it owe its emergence not just to a reaction against one set of social conditions but to the affirmation of others such as conflicting movements in popular piety, the emergence of new technologies, and the rediscovery of ancient texts? Surely. The Gospel is ubiquitous and perpetual, but it is not always visible. God bless those who make it visible, whoever and wherever they are.
The Holy Brothers pray that whether you are Jew, Greek, American, Ibo, Yoruba, Hausa, Fulani, or some other creature in the image of God, the law written on your heart shall convict of your sin and lead you to seek with every fiber of your being the ransom we have in Jesus Christ, even to the stretching of your hand and the giving of your life.
3 comments:
Caelius, I only just really gave your blog a good read for the first time this morning. It is outstanding. But I am intrigued about your identity. It is clear that we know one another in some context (based upon your comments on my sermon back on July 31), I cannot figure out who you are! Any chance you could email me and divulge the secret? I won't tell a soul, I promise! My email can be found on my blog. Keep up the good work.
Caelius...much to digest. The chief difference as I understand it is that the Protestant understanding separates Justification and Sanctification. The Roman Catholic does not. Both have some staying power in Augustine depending on which Augustine we read.
I always start with G-d's overabundant outpouring gracious love. As the East would say, G-d created not ex nihilo, but ex amore. We are justified by grace through faith in Christ Jesus. Notice--no solas. Let's keep with St. Paul.
Busy day--no chance to post till now. What Christopher mentions is where I am... We use the words Salvation, Justification, and Sanctification and seem to be simultaneously overly specific when we use them in theologizing and overly fuzzy when putting them in practice. They're all linked and I'm still mulling out exactly how all that works.
Because my theology starts with the Sacraments, I have to begin with Baptism and Salvation and move from there. And perhaps I shall in a post soon...
Post a Comment