Wet
fish, culture and shipwreck
Stephen
Curkpatrick
Does
a fish know that it is wet? We do not know, but given that “wet” is an experience
we have in contrast to dry, it is unlikely that it would know it is wet, in the
same way at least, we are generally not conscious of breathing air until we are
denied it.
It is possible to be swimming within an environment with assumptions
about life, of which we are unaware. For example, language is an immediate environment
of our relationships, sense of identity and responsibility among others that is
also laden with implicit values of which we may not be aware. Within what attitudes
are we swimming without recognising it?
A pervasive attitude of the modern and postmodern eras is that humans
are the measure of all things—the modern, with an abstract notion of the universal
human; the postmodern, without a fixed view on what is human. In the modern focus
on the universal human, attempts are made to negotiate universal human meaning.
In the amorphous or formless view of humans in postmodernism, each of us supposedly
makes our own meaning.
The postmodern option is still a very modern concept—humans are the
measure of all things—but as outsourced to small tribes, as small as one person
or perhaps a terrorist cell. Humans are the measure of all things, whether as
the universal human or as a singular fragment that has been crisscrossed by the
footprints of many others. In the postmodern, every human is wholly free to leave
a unique footprint of the human measure. Precisely because the sum of this measure
cannot be reached, footprints are added but without any ascertainable sense of
the whole.
Humans as the measure of all things can be whittled down to every human
as the measure of life. In one sense, this is true. Humans perceive a reality
that is unique to each and ceases to exist when that site of human consciousness
also ceases to exist. Yet each perceived reality within singular human consciousness
is always coming up against other such worlds of perception. This is a source
of interest, engagement and crisis as perceived realities are also contested.
There are like worlds of perception that cohere in fear of unlike worlds of perception,
so humans congregate in tribes, between the wholly autonomous person and the universal
human—the tribal identity.
The perennial contest of partisan perspective on the world occurs unabated—whether
for the universal human or for the tribal fragment that is supposedly, a true
measure of being human. Contest occurs in blame and counter-blame for why human
life is not what it should be, who is at fault and how the fault should be remedied.
Even in the face of fragmentation, something like a consensus of tribes is sought.
Underpinning this is an assumption that if we have the right view on things and
people pursue it, we could get it right! This remains a very modern concept, even
if it is divvied up among numerous sites as the postmodern.
The assumption that humans are the measure of all things can be couched
in a common set of global perspectives and symbols consistent with modernity,
or in a coordination of tribes in various concords of peace within postmodern
“difference.”
A little Christian garnish can be added to either, such as following
the example of Jesus, as if this is transparently possible. Yet to be without
any notion or articulation of the necessary transformation needed to do this is
being a fish that does not know it is wet. It is swimming in a culture
that does not recognise the central question Christian faith raises concerning
human life and the response it articulates. Whether as individual, tribal or global,
humans—who are assumed to be the measure of all things—are radically compromised
and in need of transformation.
v
Any
culture is a necessary context for the nurture of human life but no culture can
give a definitive perspective on humanity. Human cultures are contexts
in which people experience the goodness of creation. Human life does not occur
in a vacuum, any more than a magpie could fly without the resistance of air.*
Yet in every culture, humans are also restless.
The
things of time, region and therefore culture are never adequate in assuaging this
restlessness. Cultural particularity as a horizon of human aspiration can also
provide the materials and instruments—traditional, social, economic and political—for
compromising the dignity of human life and the goodness of creation. War is an
extreme example.
Christian
testimony is concerned with both the particularity of human life and its compromise.
First, Christian faith affirms human freedom, possibility, dignity and responsibility
in the context of community and creation. Second, Christian faith recognises that
human compromise is unrelenting, mutually destructive and radically inscribed—as
the good we intend but do not do and the evil we resist but unwittingly
do—in every time and region of human experience. Christian testimony speaks
into every culture and unlike idealism, honours human particularity, while also
disclosing in Jesus Christ what is durable beyond any culture and its compromised
expressions of human life.
In
Christian testimony, human expressions of culture—practical or reflective—are
neither elevated to unquestioned importance nor rejected as antithetical to all
Christian expression. The centrality of creation and incarnation in Christian
testimony prevents such dualism. Where dualism is expounded as Christian, this
combination is rejected. Where human capability and knowledge are elevated to
equality with grace and truth in Jesus Christ, this too is rejected.
What
is critical in all Christian engagement is recognition that our cultural, communal
and tribal associations and expressions of human existence are not definitive
but partial in their awareness of and capacity for the good, the true and the
beautiful. Inasmuch as this recognition occurs, good, true and beautiful expressions
of human life, thought, act and imagination contribute to the experience of creation
and life as the creator’s gifts.
v
Shipwrecked on an unknown island, Robinson
Crusoe spends much time consolidating his survival within a new and strange environment.
He also imagines what his circumstances might be if he had retrieved nothing from
the shipwreck—an image that is applicable to our experience of life.
To
be human is to be cast into a particular time, place and possibilities—being here
and not there, in this time and not another. We are shipwrecked on this island
and not another, from this ship and its wreckage and not another—castaway for
who knows how long.
We
are washed up somewhere on the shore of human life—with specific gender, ethnic,
historical and cultural identity. Birth and context can seem like a shipwreck
in time that has left us survivors on a particular shore. Each is surrounded by
the debris of a shipwreck with its specific assets for the challenge of life ahead.
Our
shipwreck event and island sojourn provide a composite site for evaluating what
is important—an island or context as everything we have, for which we can be thankful
and an infinite horizon as exposure to the reality of God, who surpasses the island
of any context or culture to disclose our lack and our true source of life.
Human
particularity is real, treasured and establishes both limits and possibilities.
Yet the horizon of God exceeds our peculiar site of wreckage and survival with
its sum of things and possibilities toward which we tend to trust. The call of
God in Christ is the true horizon of our lives, exceeding anything we can retrieve
and value from our historical, cultural and tribal shipwrecks.
*
After Kant’s dove