I don't know, Frank: I wouldn't call myself a man of faith, but I, too, have that reaction to that story.
It--along with the painful scene where Jesus repudiates his mother--is one of those moments that makes him come to life for me as a man, a real, comprehensible, imaginable human being who has flaws and makes mistakes; those moments my be, as Nigel identifies them, "not his most sympathetic," and they're not the reason he's of interest even to a nonbeliever like me, but the contrast with his more admirable moments makes the latter far, far more convincing: he is setting us a project of love that is by its nature impossible, as we can see by his own example--yet that impossibility makes it no less essential.
Well, Levi, I Used the phrase "man of faith" in order avoid saying "believer." I don't think religion has as much to do with assenting to propositions as to engaging "in a project of love." Many of Jesus's parables - the Prodigal Son, for instance - display the kind of depth and ambiguity one encounters in Zen koans. Unfortunately, they are too often reduced to needlepoint.
I don't know, Frank: I wouldn't call myself a man of faith, but I, too, have that reaction to that story.
ReplyDeleteIt--along with the painful scene where Jesus repudiates his mother--is one of those moments that makes him come to life for me as a man, a real, comprehensible, imaginable human being who has flaws and makes mistakes; those moments my be, as Nigel identifies them, "not his most sympathetic," and they're not the reason he's of interest even to a nonbeliever like me, but the contrast with his more admirable moments makes the latter far, far more convincing: he is setting us a project of love that is by its nature impossible, as we can see by his own example--yet that impossibility makes it no less essential.
Well, Levi, I Used the phrase "man of faith" in order avoid saying "believer." I don't think religion has as much to do with assenting to propositions as to engaging "in a project of love." Many of Jesus's parables - the Prodigal Son, for instance - display the kind of depth and ambiguity one encounters in Zen koans. Unfortunately, they are too often reduced to needlepoint.
ReplyDeleteThanks Frank - and I entirely agree with the distinction you're making there.
ReplyDelete