Divine mercy?

It continually amazes me that many of the devout make quite a fuss over Lent, yet (unless they are greatly concerned with matters liturgical, as I am) tend to forget that the Easter season has only just begun. I would be the last to criticise Lenten devotion, and indeed believe it is very valuable. Still, the preoccupation with 'giving things up' and so forth smacks of Calivinism - we are depraved, anything that appeals to us (even if not remotely sinful) just has to be problematic, and we'd best not forget that Christ died for us by dwelling on His resurrection and our deification.

As my regular readers will know, I believe that 'folk religion' and devotions are valuable as well. There is much in our sensual nature which needs to be satisfied - and sprinkling holy water in a room can be just as much an act of faith, and an expression of a desire for divine blessings, as anything else in our formal prayer. I know this will not endear me to some, but I must say that I am not exactly mad about the sites which promote this, the Second Sunday of Easter, as "Divine Mercy Sunday." (It's based on a private revelation - in this case, I'll leave you to Google.) Somehow, having a mini feast, based on a vision, dedicated to Divine Mercy, the week after the Triduum, seems on a par with taking a glorious gold processional cross and gilding it with the sort of paint kids used to use on their ballet shoes for recitals.

Those who originally proposed 'atonement theology,' as is not unusual for those seeking to articulate the inexplicable, could not have foreseen that it would leave a permanent 'scar' on Christianity, wherein God the Father can seem to have been guilty of the ultimate child abuse. He can be seen as having been possessed of boundless insult and anger, so much so that He had to see to it that His son had a horrid death in order that He himself could be appeased. There is no explanation for evil, as all the great philosophers (who wrote reams on the topic) would ultimately concede. Jesus indeed took on our sins - in becoming fully human, and remaining faithful to His prophetic, human vocation to proclaim the kingdom, he would be a victim of much of what is the worst in human nature.

Meditations on the Passion can be very enriching, but this did get out of hand (partly through the excessive emphasis my own Franciscan order used in preaching) once the resurrection became an afterthought. Too much thinking was centred solely on forgiveness. Devotional books, many used in preparation for the Eucharist or communion, often focussed entirely on Jesus' suffering and our need for forgiveness.

Anyone who is a devout Christian would know, all too well, that metanoia, which frequently involves repentance or at least a painful look at one's weakness, is a constant part of our lives. (In fact, the more devout we become, the more we can tend to think of our weaknesses as virtues.) Divine grace indeed transforms us. My objection is to an approach where we are either seen as essentially wicked or equate forgiveness (which I see as a restoration of or increase in our intimacy with the divine) with placating a punishing task master.

The uncertainty of this life, and the pain, suffering, or wickedness that always could be round the corner, is frightening. (Raymond Brown, in his works about Jesus' Passion, makes a superb point - Gethesemane was a scandal to the Greek Christians at first, because Jesus' agony is so in contrast with the stoic acceptance of death demonstrated by Socrates.) We never will understand why a God who is omnipotent and perfectly loving seems deaf when we are in pain. It is best we reconcile ourselves to that this cannot be understood than to seek explanations - or we can fall into either seeing everything as a punishment or, as I've treated before, fearing that being one of God's friends is even more perilous (at least on earth...) than being a distinguished sinner.

Many great theologians and authors of classic on the spiritual life presented ideas which either can be mistaken for 'punishment theology' or which awkwardly sought to express some vague idea that God's will is in all and even dropping a pencil was part of the divine plan. (With Archbishop Runcie, I'm agnostic about Auschwitz... but I'm warming up to an explanation of misunderstanding.)

I think it is important to remember that great theologians often were seeking to refute dangerous or heretical ideas prevalent in their time. For example, Augustine was refuting dualism (a concept of a second god who created evil, and of creation as wicked - which the Incarnation certainly would disprove!), which, in his Manichean days, he had come to see as a denial of divine omnipotence. To use a line about "there is no evil - it is the absence of good" would be small comfort in pastoral situations. (In fact, those who use it in such settings should be penanced to read Augustine's works in their entirety before being allowed out.)

Philosophy regarding the problem of evil does not, and never sought to, explain all the difficulties we have in this life. It was intended, sometimes brilliantly, to illustrate that the concept of God is not at odds with the wickedness and pain of this world.

As for some of the authors of works on the spiritual life, we need to recall that much of their work was intended as direction (and indeed may have been compiled from letters to people they were guiding, or based on experience of that sort.) These can be the most dismal of all. The only hope one should have is to see God in heaven. Sainthood comes from suffering. The first step in meditation is to picture one's dead body.... I'm going to stop there. It is miserable for those who are suffering to be shrugged off with "God's will" or an idea that one should only hope for happiness in eternity (and misery here, to ensure we have a chance of getting to heaven.) There is no space here for me to chronicle the history of 'vicarious suffering' and the like, but I think, on a very basic level, we need to remember that those whom these authors directed well may have been preoccupied with fears of damnation. Progress in the spiritual life means letting go of notions of God because we see their limitations - and it can be frightening, even giving us a sense of severe doubt. No one can be certain of salvation, eternal life, and the like - not because these do not exist, but because they are beyond us. No one can say, with certainty, even that there is a God.

All of us, in one way or another, have dealt with formidable authority figures. The image of a stern, even cruel God who wants placating and blind obedience is miserable, but can be comfortable in a way because of its familiarity. Resurrection, ascension, the eternal presence of the Holy Spirit in the Church, our own deification - these bring us into the realm of wonder, which can make us uncomfortable because we cannot relate this to our own experience.