Theology in History
Henri de Lubac, S.J., is one of the pioneers of Vatican II, well known for his recovery of the fathers of the Church that helped make possible Vatican II’s “ressourcement.”
But, as priest and teacher, he well knew that Christians could not live in the 3rd or 4th centuries — that however much they must learn from Irenaeus and Augustine, they had to be witnesses to their own age.
A book of his essays, written from the 1940s to the 1970s, is published under the title, “Theology in History” (Ignatius Press). It contains some trenchant and moving essays written during the Nazi occupation of France. In some of them de Lubac addresses Nietzsche’s critique of Christianity which, in an adulterated form, was influencing the ideology of the Nazis and the French right wing.
In an essay, “Spiritual Warfare” (from 1943), de Lubac writes:
When Nietzsche exclaims, speaking of us Christians, “They would have to sing me better songs to teach me to believe in their Savior — his disciples would have to look more saved,” how dare we be indignant? … Are our hearts the hearts of people resurrected with Christ? Are we, in the midst of the century, witneses to the Beatitudes? In brief, we discern well the blasphemy in Nietzsche’s terrible sentence. But does it not oblige us to discern as well in ourselves, what has been able to push Nietzsche to blasphemy?
Although I feel challenged and energized by these words, I also think de Lubac places the burden of conscience-examination too squarely on the believer’s shoulders. It’s crucial to remember that de Lubac saw and personally endured more scandalous Christian behavior than Nietzsche ever could, but never left.
Plus he had to endure French devotional music, whereas Nietzsche could have sung along with fun German hymns.
At some point the question becomes personal, and we either say, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of everlasting life”–or, we say something else: perhaps something self-protective.
Kathy: Your first paragraph is not the clearest one you’ve ever written. After reading it several times, I still can’t figure it out. De Lubac was writing to believers, of course, so it would not be odd that he placed the burden of conscience-examination on their shoulders, and in any case on whose shoulders could one place one’s own burden? As you say in the last paragraph, “the question becomes personal.” Or am I missing the point?
I think that de Lubac gives too easy an excuse to those who do not become Christian or who walk away from their faith: they are victims of bad examples. Well, maybe so, but they are also recipients of plenteous grace.
OK, now I see. But the main point de Lubac was making–to Christians–is certainly worth pondering. It links up with 1 Jn 1:4, which is an invitation to joy. A non-Christian happening upon this blog would not, I think, be overwhelmed with a sense of our joy.
That’s true. More posts on German hymnody would probably help.
Kathy,
Nietzsche said that Christians would have to sing him better songs and actually look saved to get him to believe. De Lubac may have patiently borne a lot scandal, but he already believed. The problems of what it takes to convert someone and what it takes to keep the faith in the face of joyless Christians is not the same problem. In any case, the force of Nietzsche’s question does not depend on the example of his own virtue. The question remains, and will not go away until Our Lord returns: Do Christians act as though they believe the things they say they believe?
Matthew, why woud the presumptive answer to this question be “no?” Don’t we all know cheerful young Catholic couples with special-needs children? And/ or salt-of-the-earth parishioners who constantly give and constantly smile? Haven’t there been at least two men, as educated, polite, and open-minded as anyone could hope to be, who have said on this blog in the last few days, not grumbling, that they obey Humanae Vitae even though they are not satisfied with the magisterial explanations offered for the discipline?
I love the capacity de Lubac had for aphoristic compression — you can find a whole bunch more pensees like this in his wonderful “Paradoxes of Faith” (Ignatius).
Kathy,
There was no “presumtive answer” to this question. There is Nietzsche’s answer — No — which we should take seriously. Then there is your answer, which is apparently “Yes.” And then there is mine: Often no, but yes often enough. Which is one reason I am a Christian.
Kathy –
In my experience people who smile constantly are not to be trusted. Beware.
Don’t worry, Ann. Politically–locally–I’m a realist.
I just know a lot of parishioners. In all the parishes I’ve served, I’ve been edified. Frustrated as heck at pettiness at times, but the more I’ve gotten to know people and how they live their lives, the more I’ve been edified.
For me, that’s where the examination of conscience comes in: will I ever be generous like these good Christians?
This use of Nietzsche reminds me of Mounier’s “The Spoil of the Violent.” I ran across it in Joe and Sally Cunneen’s “Cross-Currents” back in the fifties. Quite a wake-up call.
How does one look saved? If anyone knows, spread it around. We can all try to feign the right look. It might win souls. Seriously, trying to satisfy Nietzsche’s criteria for anything strikes me as a mistaken effort.
“The problems of what it takes to convert someone and what it takes to keep the faith in the face of joyless Christians is not the same problem.”
This must be THE biggest challenge to the RCIA that exists. I really wonder how many grads actually stick around after 24 months?
Are we not called to make a joyful noise unto the Lord? Heard any joyful noises in your parish recently?