At the centre of all moral inquiry is the Crucifixion of Jesus
To be human is both a blessing and a curse. A blessing to have conscious thought, a curse to be plagued by doubt. It would be nice to be born a lion, living from one mealtime to the next, never thinking about the consequences of one’s actions – of things done and undone. But God chose to give us a conscience.
Hence, it’s absurd to say that the religious life is an ignorant one. Some silly new report says that belief in God relies in part upon the suppression of analytical sections of the brain. Never mind that faith is predicated upon reason (see Thomas Aquinas), the report makes the bigger mistake of distinguishing between empathy (which the religious apparently do have) and rational analysis. On the contrary, the ability to be empathetic rests upon a constant analysis of the effects that one’s behaviour has upon other people.
For me, Christianity is best understood as a ceaseless dialogue with the conscience. It’s almost neurotic, very Woody Allen. “Should I give to this homeless guy? Will it encourage him to beg? Would I be better off buying his magazine or giving him the cash as a donation so that he can pocket it and sell another copy on later?” And then the question that really matters: “What would Jesus want me to do?” The Christian concept of reason is not that of individuals inventing their own morality – it’s a reason informed by the belief that the homeless person is made in the image of God, that he is like Jesus on the cross. In short, I am compelled by faith in God to try to figure out the best way to live. That’s not easy to do. Sometimes, it’s daunting.
At the centre of all moral inquiry is the Crucifixion. It definitely did happen, by the way – the historical sources for it are very strong. And once you accept the premise that a man willingly died for our sins, the rest of life has to be analysed through that prism. Why did he do it? Did he really do it for me? I didn’t ask him to do it. Wouldn’t it have been more useful to free the Jews and smash the Romans? Why, oh why, is the Christian god so weak – when the ancient gods were heroes who could carry the world on their shoulders?
There is a temptation to reject the Crucifixion and just walk away from it. But there’s a voice in your head that says: “this is big. This means something. This cannot be ignored.” Why after 2,000 years do billions of people persist in worshipping a dead Jewish carpenter? Not only because he was the son of God – a claim that many other holy men have made – but because he died for others. And something in our brains, a mix of the empathetic and the analytical, tells us that this is the greatest truth we have ever heard.
What are we supposed to do with this information? When setting up her charitable works in the 1940s, Mother Teresa wrote: “In all my prayers and Holy Communions, he is constantly asking, ‘Wilt thou refuse…?’” She replied: “My own Jesus – what you ask is beyond me – I can hardly understand half the things you want – I am unworthy – I am sinful – I am weak.” I feel the doubt in those words strongly. Most of us do, religious or not.
But Mother Teresa found purpose in working for others. She found some peace, too, by accepting her own weaknesses – acknowledging that she had little to give but that she was called to give it. She was not perfect, you are not perfect, and I sure as Hell ain’t perfect. But reason tells us that if Jesus is willing to die for the imperfect, God must love us after all. And what a remarkable thing it is to be loved, what a staggering gift.
Rejoice! God has died, God is risen and God will come again! He will wipe the tears from all eyes, heal all pain and breathe justice across the land like a mighty wind. Keep the faith, and have a very Happy Easter.
Provided by : http://www.telegraph.co.uk