Can any centre hold?
Stephen Curkpatrick


In his early twentieth century post war poem, “The Second Coming,” W.B. Yeats articulates a mood of uncertainty about the future of humanity:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold.

Forty years later, especially in response to the violent oppressions of totalitarian regimes, many people in a variety of disciplines proposed the end of any “centre” that expressed an over-arching ideal or story. The end of meta-narratives is now deemed necessary for human dignity, freedom and imagination.

No single narrative can articulate the “centre” of human existence and dignity. The assumption of being able to locate a centre was pursued by modernity in various guises, deploying potent tools of technological progress to secure a centred focus for human society. Once such a focus is identified by a particular regime, it is seemingly necessary to bend all attitudes and resources toward that “centre.” This also introduces the possibly of suppressing, either tacitly or violently, any dissenting perspective.

Christian faith is committed to a narrative that is otherwise than any political, religious or cultural meta-narrative in assertion of a “centre” that can hold but which invariably does not.

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Without a centre, there can be no privileged position in relation to a centre; otherness is as privileged as any presumed centre and our proximity to it. This may seem plausible, but can any such thesis be sustained? In neutralizing every centre, no brick is left standing above another; if every narrative can be levelled to rubble, theoretically, no one can dominate anyone else. Yet if all otherness is to be tolerated as equally legitimate, every other becomes no other; “otherness” is scuttled by an implicit meta-narrative of selected political foci and legislation toward a surreptitious end.

Within contemporary assertions of neutrality and tolerance, the resurgence of interest in religion—expressed by a flush of diverse spiritualities—seems natural after concerted rational attempts to suppress superstitious anomalies of self-projection within modern life. Various approaches to neutralizing any centre are apparently, running to script: all narratives are to be tolerated, even mythical ones; no narrative can be elevated above another; religious truth claims cancel each other anyway. Yet neutralizing scenarios are not running to script: perennial anxieties feed meta-narratives, while presumed tolerance of any narrative devolves into ethical nonsense.

First, meta-narratives refuse to disappear as mortal anxiety is offset by tribal or partisan strategies in assertion of a centre in consolidation of “a place under the sun.” Contrary to intention, the neutralization of any centre has a bias toward intensely contractual society in seeking to prevent the potential eruption of conflict between relative but intensely partisan values. An assertion of tolerance for all narratives can only be sustained within highly legislated conditions, ultimately locating any promise of human dignity within law and the threat of its enforcement! New Testament testimony has already exposed the fallacies of seeking to underpin righteousness and human dignity through law.

Second, if people yearn for some form of meta-narrative, then any religion offers a comprehensive narrative with clear values and focused identity. The intention to neutralize every centre is at odds with its primary virtue of tolerance when confronted with the dilemma of repressive or violent expressions of religion. Not every expression of “otherness” can be tolerated, as is presumed in the theoretical idealism of tolerance, which self-righteously asserts that “otherness” trumps any meta-narrative.

Neutralizing agendas might promise to eliminate oppression and violence by establishing mutual tolerance, yet such agendas are unable to provide the leverage to do this without also legislating contractual sociality and invariably, exhibiting snide imperiousness toward any choice—even an honourable one—in which one possibility is distinguished from all others.

Within any society, collective choices need to be made and inevitably, these will be prejudiced in sentiment and resources against other choices. Democracy facilitates our preference for select values along with their motivating narratives and not others. This is an affirmation of human dignity in the equality of all—which has Christian roots, even if this dignity now receives largely secular endorsement. Democracy contests any assumption that a particular “knowledge” of society or ideal about humanity is more significant than recognising the equal dignity of all persons, ignorant and intellectual. Even so, democracy can be held to ransom by sectional interests that scuttle the majority will of equals.

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A perennial dilemma exists within the quest for some form of centre that represents common if not universal ideals, so as to adjudicate on crucial choices amid diverse but often unruly natural vitalities of life. In resistance to the centring effect of social structures, assertions of relativity threaten to slide into nihilism. Racial, religious, political and cultural tribal foci are asserted in the face of nihilism. (Niebuhr) Here, Niebuhr identifies two enduring realities of human life—transcending nature and being immersed in nature.

How is the human need for a centre that transcends the diffuse vitality of nature finally to be met? How is human diversity amid natural vitality affirmed? How are the menacing hazards that are present within assertions of either idealism or relativity to be averted? Potential for destructive conflict are reflected in both.

How can Christology speak to human freedom, recognising that human life is immersed in diverse expressions of natural vitality, while also yearning for a centre that is not potentially totalitarian as imperiously idealist or fiercely tribal as reactionary?

For a Christian, there is no centre—I am crucified with Christ. This is neither meta-narrative with its totalitarian potential nor relativity in which no narrative is more significant than another, however banal or marginal the narrative. Adulation for centred human life, social and personal, is contested by Christian testimony to a radically different sense of personhood received as a gift and affirmed by life in deference to another—a christological reality.

The Christian paradox of being crucified with Christ and receiving our life as a gift from God can centre our lives otherwise than any centre. This paradox overcomes the conflict between identity and otherness within which, every centring attempt seeks to overcome existential insecurity generated by mortal anxiety. This anxiety is never able to extricate itself from partisan and tribal assertions of identity through particular ideals; personal anxieties over security in quest of a place under the sun are outsourced to tribal identities, even as inane lip-service can be given to embracing otherness—inane, for otherness that is assimilated, even implicitly, cannot be genuine and invariably confronting otherness! The gospel offers an imperative to generosity, even for an enemy, from a counter-intuitive centre.

Christological reality summons our intelligence and generosity in the midst of humanity, with imperatives to enhance the dignity of each in service offered to all without distinction or deference to a presumed “centre,” yet with patience for imperfect but necessary social forms or structures by which we can meet basic human needs and aspirations. The character of christological reality is known by vulnerability and potential loss, not by assimilation and potential oppression. Biblical testimony to the phenomenon that no centre does or can hold is a crisis prefacing our only possible centre—it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.

Reference: Niebuhr The Nature and Destiny of Man I