Flowers fall but the word endures
Stephen
Curkpatrick
“All
flesh is like grass and all its glory like the flower of grass. The grass withers,
and the flower falls, but the word of the Lord endures forever.” (I Pet. 1:24-25;
Isa. 40:8)
To
be human is already to be called into question by the word that endures. It does
not matter whether humans are clever or foolish as to survival. Figuratively,
humans only endure as long as grass survives its season under the sun.
We will all die; we are negated by death, whatever we achieve or think we have
achieved in the relative brevity of our natural lives.
Inasmuch
as the word endures beyond our lives, it calls our lives into question; it stands
in antithesis to every life and is the negation of every quest for life to become
a word that will endure beyond its time. Where flesh withers and its glory falls,
the word endures. This antithesis between flesh and word also creates a tension
between the good pursued according to the way of all flesh—in the constraints
of time, place and perspective—and the good announced by the enduring word. How
can we tell the difference?
v
Throughout
his writings, Paul resists confidence in any human quest for the holy, just and
good or righteousness equated with tribal and therefore temporal or regional perspective.
When this quest is monopolised within humanity without recognising its lamentable
compromises in solidarity with all humanity—grass that withers—it generates
meagre fruits that are easily dispersed like thistledown.
For
Paul, the difference between two expressions of righteousness is the source. This
is also the difference between an ephemeral appearance of the good and its durability.
Righteousness according to the way of all flesh might articulate a language of
the good but it merely perpetuates an illusion that humans can sustain a word
beyond their capacity and resources. Righteousness according to life in the Spirit
is resourced beyond the limits of human life and has its enduring effect in recognition
of a word otherwise than our own—a word of grace.
In
his own experience, Paul recognises that righteousness pursued according to any
criteria that emboldens human self-elevation, even if seemingly spiritual and
just, is nothing compared to the righteousness of God in Christ. In the field
of human quest and perspective, pursuit of the perceived good invariably becomes
a source of hubris and conflict. This does not promote the righteousness of God,
for enmity is invoked by partisan designations of the more righteous and
the less righteous, while hubris is installed in those who assume that
a particular exposition of the holy, just and good is right and incumbent on everyone.
A
particular approach to righteousness may appear to be correct in stating a position
on the conflicted realm of human responsibilities and ethics. If this is driven
out of passion that creates enmity and underpins hubris, it is for Paul, unrighteousness;
that is, it is possible to be wrong in assertions of being “right.” The perennial
human propensity to turn the holy, just and good into an expression of enmity
and hubris is all too easily forgotten. Grass withers and so too, words that are
articulated from the zeal of partisan perspective. Yet this crisis is also a precursor
to recognising the need for grace.
Righteousness
is not to be found here or there in the human quest to secure its
imprimatur for a claim or status of being nearer than another is further from
the good. Instead, it is known through faith as exposure to the grace of God,
the source of integral life amid the human crisis of mortality and the perennial
failure to secure the holy, just and good. This latter possibility is only as
near as its confession in hearts and on lips in response to grace.
Righteousness
is given effect within human life apart from the perennial installation of enmity
and hubris if its source and end is the grace of God. Grace exceeds human capacity,
while finding in human hearts and hands the response of faith and humility whereby
enmity and hubris are not possible because the ultimate source of the good is
from God. The good cannot be used as a fulcrum or lever for partisan claims to
righteousness or the moral high ground.
There
is no diminution of cost and difficulty here, yet to assert other than this is
to negate the love of Christ for all as the ultimate testimony and paradox of
Christian life. An occasion to relinquish the right to be right is a call
to love as a response that goes beyond any assertion of presumed righteousness
(this is the inaugural and precarious test of Solomon’s wisdom—life and justice
exist where genuine relinquishment occurs. Barth).
Where
there is a need for our advocacy, the imperative to love will also call us to
absorbing the effects of a perceived wrong with our own lives as a precursor to
redemptive and truly creative judicial possibilities in human life—beyond the
mere relativity of competing rights or case studies marshalled toward an ideology.
Redemptive solutions are not possible without exposure to suffering and this response
will inevitably require patience, grace and risk in what Paul refers to as the
fellowship of Christ and his sufferings.
That
love endures all things is a reality that requires self-relinquishment,
which allays the ever present temptations to abstraction and partisan fever. Any
claim to love God while we nurture antipathy toward our fellow human is incongruous
according to the Epistle of John. In a refusal to assert our right-ness or (self)
righteousness, or yet our deserved due time, it is imperative to listen again
to a word otherwise than our own or else we may be merely constituting our own
word and adjudicating on it out of partisan impatience and ideology.
Righteousness
shows its face with patient humility not hubris, for the latter creates enmity
and division. To work for the good is to recognise and affirm that God alone is
the source of legitimacy for our acts of goodness as the one who exceeds human
capacity and imagination in redeeming good from manifestations of evil.
v
God
is for us, even if we are ultimately against ourselves in supposedly being for
ourselves. In biblical terms, this is testimony to our creaturely status as grass
that withers and our glory as flowers that fall; yet this too is an
occasion for testimony to the love of God, the redemption of human life in costly
self-deference and joyous transformation to which God disclosed in Jesus Christ
gives shape. Yet God for us and with us is not perceived if we grasp at an illusion
that in being for ourselves, however plausibly couched, we are capable of ameliorating
human dilemmas and the perennial compromise of the good in the relativity of human
solutions.
The
phenomenon of a neighbour’s need is testimony that not only has someone or some
community failed him or her but that we all participate in this failure. The passion
of Christ, being made sin who knew no sin, comes to us in every instant
of human distortion before us in our neighbour, which also calls each to enter
the suffering of Christ, tangibly, in this one and with this one who suffers because
of others and therefore because of us all. The passion of Christ shows us that
there is no enduring word on the human condition without suffering being its prefacing
word.
The
imperative to love our neighbour is given out of no other premise than love as
the ultimate predicate of God, exceeding the capacity of anyone to comprehend
it, yet within the scope of each to participate tangibly, without an ideological
agenda or caveats. In view of its demand, my lack and my actual and potential
evasions, it is necessary to speak of self-giving love in the human creature as
a miracle akin to being born anew, not of perishable but of imperishable seed.
Selected
sources: Badiou Saint Paul; Barth Ethics; CD I The Word
of God, II God, IV Reconciliation; Käsemann Romans; Kasper
Jesus the Christ; Marion Prolegomena to Charity; Nygren Romans;
von Balthasar Love Alone is Credible.