Christ and Dionysus

October 9, 2010

Tony SigI’m really loving my Greek and Roman Mythology class.  On the one hand, it’s a 1000 level course, so the ‘difficulty’ is pretty minimal, but being a four credit class instead of a three means that we get a ton of reading in the original sources.  Amongst other things, it has been very interesting for me to read these ‘myths’ and ‘see parallels’ in certain Scriptural images.  As a friend of mine recently confirmed, it is hard to look at Noah the same after reading the Epic of Gilgamesh.

So I find myself confronted with how to understand these things.  Of course I want to affirm the ‘uniqueness’ of Christ (and I do!) but it is intellectually irresponsible to apologetically argue that Christ, as represented in Scripture – that is, on a textual as compared to an ontological level – is a totally  unique ‘apocalyptic event’ without precedence in other sacred literature.  (I take this to be at least a part of what Hans Frei argues.)

A classic example is a confusion that sometimes happened as Christianity came into contact with its neighbors.  Jesus was sometimes understood as a sort of Dionysus figure – Christ as Vine; as transforming life in the Eucharist; and as Harrower of Hell, were taken to be parallels to certain Dionysian myths.

There are two thinkers in particular who have been helping me, though in many ways they take radically different positions.  Rowan Williams has a sort of take on this in an essay entitled “The Finality of Christ” in his astounding “On Christian Theology.”   Williams wants to see Jesus “not dehistoricized or absolutized as an icon of significance, but neither [as] depicted as the teacher of one among several possible ways of salvation.  He is presented as the revelation of God: as God’s question, no more, no less.  Being a Christian is being held to that question in such a way that the world of religious discourse in general may hear it.” (105)

+Williams represents here a sort of chastened iconoclasm, trying to worm between the simplistic options of ‘exclusivism,’ ‘inclusivism’ and ‘pluralism’ as commonly conceived.  I’m not totally convinced of this essay on all points, but his christological focus I think is indispensable in understanding other faiths and ‘myths’ in light of Christ.

On the other hand I’ve been ruminating on C.S. Lewis’ “Reflections of the Psalms.” Famously Lewis makes a (rather good) case for understanding certain myths as ‘pointing to’ Christ.  He is most convincing when talking about Plato’s picture of the ‘Perfectly Just Man’ who is scorned by society as a disruptor of the peace and subsequently crucified.  Lewis goes on to say “when I meditate on the Passion while reading Plato’s picture of the Righteous One, or on the Resurrection while reading about Adonis or Balder…there is a real connection between what Plato and the myth-makers most deeply were and mean and what I believe to be the truth.  I know that connection and they do not…One can, without any absurdity, imagine Plato or the myth-makers if they learned the truth, saying, “I see…so that was what I was really talking about.  Of course.  That is what my words really meant, and I never new it.”  And with his typical generosity he concludes “(Or may we more charitably speak, not of what Plato and Virgil and the myth-makers ‘would have said’ but of what they said?  For we can pray with good hope that they now know and have long since welcomed the truth; ‘many shall come from the east and west and sit down in the kingdom’)”

As it stands I’m not looking for the mythic ‘middle’ or ‘third way’ between these two, but I’m feeding off both and trying to see the truth of what they’re saying; I’m looking for the Christ in Dionysus not because I want to cheapen the truth of Christ, who remains the Way, Truth and Life – but I’m looking for him because I believe that it is in him that all things cohere.

Tony Sig

As one reads and thinks one begins to get interested in particular rabbit holes in theology.  Feeling called to Ecumenism, Ecclesiology is one such rabbit hole of mine.

I wish to propose some brief propositions that have swum around in my mind.  I realize that they are not positions that the Church has traditionally agreed with but I’m trying to follow out some logic that stems from good Catholic theology.  Mostly, I want to locate the Church.  If one cannot do such, even if in a provisional way, it seems difficult to speak at all about it.  Tell me what you think.

  • I am, along with at least the RCC, a religious inclusivist.  That is to say I trust that there will be many from different faiths who “find salvation.”
  • Karl Rahner called these people “anonymous Christians”
  • Catholicism is concerned with the locatability of the Church as opposed to Protestant spiritualizing and volunteer’izing of the Church.
  • A “Christian” is someone who in faith is baptized into the Church and prayed over to receive the Holy Spirit
  • A so-called “anonymous Christian” has not been baptized nor prayed over to receive the Spirit and even if their ‘faith’ is truly toward God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit it is not shaped in this way.
  • If such a person can be “saved,” and if “there is no salvation outside of the Church,” then by this logic A) People can be “saved” without the Sacraments B) People can be part of the church without knowing it…
  • There seems to be a tension to me.  Now, if the Sacraments are necessary to become part of the Church (as I would argue), AND “there is no salvation outside of the church,” THEN “anonymous Christians” (or their souls?!) must be baptized post-mortem.
  • This is just plain silly to me.
  • Would it not make more sense to use the old dictum (was it Luther?):  ”There is no salvation outside of Christ?”
  • This would allow us to locate the Church, which is absolutely necessary for witness, fellowship, worship, evangelism, discipline, etc…
  • AND it would allow us to remain religious inclusivists who acknowledge, no, Rejoice!, that God is at work in the whole world?
  • This also makes sense of some otherwise puzzling passages in the New Testament

So how ’bout it?  There is no salvation outside of Christ but there is outside of the Church?

Jeremy Sig

Part I: Brief History of Religions Part II: Definitions Part III: A way forward

Part 3: A Way Forward

relativism-cartoonIn the first two posts of this series, I attempted to lay out a broad history and nuanced position toward the issues surrounding religious pluralism today. As has been pointed out many times before, such work is inherently arbitrary in that it seeks to limit such a broad position. None the less, I attempted this feat with one purpose in mind. My goal has been to show, as the title of my series relays, the evolution of religion. At this point, however, I feel the need, for humility’s sake, to take a step back.

In this final post of the series, I want to lay out a pragmatic approach for mankind in relation to the plurality of religion in our world today. This approach will be centered around the fostering of humility and relationship. This post will not be so focused on definitions or broad generalizations, as my first two. Concurrently, this post will be shorter than my previous two. I would like the reader to see my first two posts, as simply a doorway to step into the topic which I will attempt to breach in this post. For sure, there are many doorways one could travel through to reach this position. Some of which may be more effective than the one I have presented. I simply laid forth, as best I could, the path for which I took.

To say that religion is an ever evolving entity is by nature quite abstract and convoluted. The very term “evolution” carries with it much baggage that is inapplicable to the intent of my thesis. When one speaks of the evolution of religion, it must be understood what can and cannot be inferred in any authoritative way. First it must be fleshed out that the evolution for which I speak is in revelation of the uncontainable, not in any cultural or institutional sense. My goal is not to speak to the evolving of religious institutions, as such a task would be far beyond my abilities. Rather, it is to acknowledge the evolution of personal revelation within those who seek to understand and relate to transcendence. To be more clear, my goal is to acknowledge that mankind has always sought to better understand and relate to a God that is far beyond his reach. As such that God has continually given mankind glimpses of himself through divine sparks of revelation. It is only obvious then, that as the sum of those revelations grows, so too does the understanding man.

At this point I would like to dwell for a moment on our understanding of God. It is agreed on, in some form, by every religious tradition, that the divine experiences for which man has touched have originated from a source far above the grasp of mans conception. To put it more bluntly, every religious tradition affirms that we know very little of the infinitude that is God. In fact, I would go as far as to say that an inherent aspect of religious experience is an understanding of how minute the picture or revelation received really is. It has been said that an experience of the divine is like a drop of water in the desert. It is only meant to stir ones thirst for more. Concurrently, an experience of such, from such an undefinable source, can only itself remain undefinable. None the less, it is man’s nature to try.

This is where religion, in its institutional form, comes into play. The institution of religion places a linguistic framework around the experience to help man to define what has happened. It must be noted that this is not a negative function, but rather a necessity. Without a definition, in linguistic terms, it is quite impossible for man to form a relationship to the source of the experience. It must also be noted that religious experience is not an ever present reality. Each drop of experience relates more “truth” and must sustain the individual whom experienced it. It is the time between these experiences that one is compelled to plumb the depths of the revelation given.

The linguistic traditions, supplied by the religious institutions of man, aid the individual in their search for understanding and relationship. This distinction between religious experience and religious institutions is important. It is quite possible to make value judgments of the language for which the various religious institutions construct. Each linguistic tradition is formulated from the combined experiences of a localized group. As such, there are inherent strengths and weaknesses to each tradition. This is not to say that it is a simple task to evaluate the linguistic constructs of any religious institution. Any attempt to do so would require an in depth understanding of the people and culture for which each tradition is grounded. This is why, in my opinion, evaluation of these traditions is best left to be done from within, though there is certainly value in outside perspective.

This evaluation, however, must stop at the institutional level. To attempt to evaluate the personal religious experience of another is quite a different task. Such a task is dangerous, arrogant, and highly unproductive. It must always be remembered that the source of these experiences is far beyond the grasp of our intellectual understanding. What does this mean in a practical sense? It means that one can evaluate, for instance, the religious tradition that interpreted a divine experience as a call to violence. Via the constructs of human reasoning one can determine that such an interpretation must be an inferior linguistic traditional construct. One cannot, however, presume that the human beings that followed such a construct have received an inferior religious experience.

One might argue that this is only a semantic difference. This, however, is not the case. The pragmatic value in making this distinction is the continued realization of the inherent human vulnerability of ones own religious linguistic tradition. This is vital in the pluralistic world for which we live. It is only through humility that one can truly grasp the most of the divine.

This leads me to my final point. Religious scholar Diana Eck has said,

“Whoever knows only one religion is unlikely to understand what religion is about”

While I cannot speak to the entirety of her point, I do feel that she has tapped into an important practical aspect of religious pluralism. If the source of all human religious experience is far greater than the comprehension of mankind, then it only follows that the combined revelations of mankind holistically, paints a fuller picture than when seen through a dichotomy. In other words, we can only gain in our quest to understand and relate to the divine by seeking out and learning from the experiences of others who have touched its essence (I apologize for the constant vacillation of terms in relation to God. It is often difficult when speaking on this matter to confidently choose only one term.). If it is truly ones desire to understand and relate more fully to God, then it seems only natural to seek out others who are like-minded. I understand that this can sometimes be a tricky proposition. Each experience is couched in a religious linguistic tradition, and often those traditions are mutually exclusive. There is, however, a way to sort through the peculiars of each tradition and find the essence of revelation.

The way for this clarity to be found is through relationship. It is only when we commune with others, and our hearts become one, that we can find the essence of the revelation for which they have received. We will of course interpret that revelation through our own tradition, but we will have gained in our understanding of the one who is beyond comprehension.

This post, in many ways, has taken a step back from the ambitious generalizations of my previous ones. As I laid out previously, this was intentional. I have tried to avoid making value judgements on religious traditions. This is not to say that there is no value in doing so. I feel, however, that this is best left to others far more qualified than myself.

As I have taken this journey, being enriched by the experiences of others both within and outside of my tradition, I have often reevaluated the linguistic tradition that I have used to define experiences of God. This I believe is a natural outcome of gaining a further understanding of the God in whom I seek. Sometimes I have found it more difficult than others to understand the heart of religious experience. Specifically, a Buddhist friend comes to mind. It seems the linguistic mountain between us was larger than most. However, I have never been disappointed by the outcome no matter how difficult the journey. Each and every relationship has added a drop to my now ever growing lake of understanding of God. With each drop I am encouraged by the level of intimacy gained, while also humbled at the sheer depth of the impending ocean. My hope is that in sharing the journey that has brought me to where I am today I have better illuminated a path for others who wish to follow. I truly believe in the relevancy of my position for today. At no other time in history has such a great wealth of opportunity for cross religious investigation been prevelant. Because of the modern tools of information sharing, it is easier than ever to gain perspective from other’s experiences. This is not to dismiss the potential risk involved in such excursions, but rather to highlight the possibilities of growth.

Tony Sig

Rublev: Rowan Williams

“One day, God walked in, pale from the grey steppe,
slit-eyed against the wind, and stopped,
said, Colour me, breathe your blood into my mouth.

I said, Here is the blood of all our people,
these are their bruises, blue and purple,
gold, brown, and pale green wash of death.

These (god) are the chromatic pains of flesh,
I said, I trust, I make you blush,
O I shall stain you with the scars of birth

For ever. I shall root you in the wood,
under the sun shall bake you bread
of beechmast, never let you forth

to the white desert, to the starving sand.
But we shall sit and speak around
one table, share one food, one earth.”

My mom recently commented that I do not post as much as I used to.  That is because I’m back in school and have substantially more homework than I did last semester and over Christmas break.  But I wanted to throw in my initial two cents in on Jeremy’s posts so far on religious pluralism.

Unfortunately it will not be quite as thorough as I should like it to be, but I will still attempt to (very) briefly demonstrate why I believe the foundations for his pluralist position is in fact the “out-of-date” or “not-relevant” system.

It is not insignificant that Jeremy has thus far begun and ended his system not at all based on any religion, or even his own personal religious experience; but rather on the backs of social scientists.  He gives us a grand and sweeping account of the “history of religions” and then turns to religious scientists to determine the definition(s?!) of religion.

“The problem of Meta-narrative in the “history of religions”

The large and sweeping problem off the bat is that the account of the history of religions is itself a meta-narrative of history.  It says, in essense that religious history is going somewhere -  “First there was primitive religion, then the axial age, then Islam emphasised compassion, now pluralism, etc…” – and that is not where it is now nor is it where it has been.

Part of deconstructing is attempting, insofar as it is possible and aparently truthful, to deconstruct even ones own presuppositions, and it is this tendency which has led me, though appreciating insights which have come of thinking in terms of the words “pre-, modern, and post-modern (even post-post-modern!)” to ultimately come to reject the notion that history is neatly divideable up into epochs where thought was broadly uniform and the presuppositions the same; whereby we are able to box people and ideas up for critique en masse.  I have learned in reading some of the classic western philosophy lately, is that it is a myth to posit that it was only in the “Enlightenment” where “reason” became the base authority.  A look at Socrates, Plato, and the many skeptics in our “history of thought” reveals that the same motivation for Socrates to reject the many gods of his native Athens is the same reason that led to “Enlightenment” thinkers to reject the authority of the Roman Catholic Church.  Plato was just as convinced as Rousseau that reason as opposed to revelation could be counted on to give an objective, ontologically-true account of the (uni)versal reality apart from intervening spiritualities and deities to explain the unexplainable.

Which is why I think that it is simply inaccurate to speak in terms of what religions were doing or saying during specific “eras.”  The very idea of “eras” is so frustrating since it is nothing but an interpretive tool on the page.  The closest we might get to an accurate account of thought over time might be to speak of “schools” but not “eras.”  Especially when said “eras” become a tool of oppressive violence to another’s belief system.

“The problem of the secular in the “history of religions”

As Shawn Wamsley just asserted commenting on Jeremy’s second post, narratives cannot be universalized to be demonstrably true outside of their own meta-narratives.  The bare fact of the matter is that the assertions of accouts of the history of religions are done amongst the intellectual elite in the houses of learning still living under the mistaken assumption that they can give an objective account both of history and of “religions”; of what it is, of where it is going, what it means, and what we should do about it.  It defines religion, (which it cannot do succinctly enough so it must resort to multiple definitions of religion), it defines the distinguishing marks of religion, it defines the “eternal core” of those religions, and it decides what we as a society must do about it.  If there is one thing I learned in Cultural Anthropology and Environmental Science, it is not a lot about other cultures or about anthropogenic global warming, but about the idealogical core of the social sciences and their own meta-narratives.

(I hope this does not to sound too nasty)

At the end of the day, I believe modern-western religious pluralism is nothing but the bastard child of secularism and its exultation of “reason” over the rest of the world.

(Lest that seem to make me a fundamentalist, consider that Walter Brueggemann himself, no conservative by any estimation, consistently says that it is secularism which is at the heart of the decline in the Mainline.)  What it is is an account of the history and truthfulness of religions as critiqued by its own presumption.  Though some social scientists might recognize the reality of “the trancendent (as defined by them),” ultimately it says to the great faiths “Thanks for getting us this far, we’ll take it from here.  Moreover, we will personally decide what it is which actually counts for something from your religion, and in time, if you attend enough of our Universities, you will come to see it our way.”  It says what “god(s)” (as we define or don’t define the term) really wants.  But, religious pluralism bases this not on a belief in the revealing work of “god” but its own “objective” accounts of the faiths.

“The irrelevency of the social sciences, broadly conceived”

Jeremy posited that given the nature of our knowing about the world and about religions; and given that we are in an unavoidable pluralistic context, “exclusivist” religion is “no longer relevant”  This seems to be an important phrase for Jeremy since he will not assert that “exclusivist” faith is itself “wrong.”  This allows him a greater shield against the critique often leveled against religious monists and pluralists alike that their own system is “exclusive in its own way.”  Yet, the foundations for his pluralism is based on the violent exlusivism of the western social sciences.

Oddly enough, given the post-modern critique, and especially the “radical orthodox” critique continually developing in post-liberal anglo-catholicism (with which I continually find myself agreeing), it is Jeremy’s intellectual foundations which are “irrelevant” as they have been crumbling since at least the time of Derrida, Focoult, Rory and Gadamer among others.

Now all of this is not to say anything negative about Jeremy.  Jeremy is  actually one of the most compassionate and generous people I know (that is not an exageration); but as long as his reasoning for religious pluralism is dependent on the social sciences and not on the revealing love and activity of the Holy Trinity, then I am going to have to remain unconvinced.

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