Now lies the earth all Danaë to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me.
-Alfred, Lord Tennyson
So much of societal interaction (regardless of the society) is taken up in the establishment of validity. When we meet someone new, the first thing we try to do is figure out what acquaintances we have in common. When we consider a purchase, we look online to see who has recommended it and what the ratings are; or perhaps we venture a noncommittal comment about it on social media to see what our friends think of it. When we hear an interesting idea, we want to know from what school of thought it was derived and who subscribes to it. And any business deal of significant size is borne up by a tidal wave of accountants and lawyers and agents all carefully sifting through its various implications to make sure no oversight occurs. All these processes take place in every area of our lives to try to make sure things are what they really seem.
To take this further, the truest test of a system of thought is to follow it out to its eventual implications. Not only do we need to know whether Buddhism or Christianity or Islam (or Materialism, a system with a following probably greater than any of the foregoing) is valid in its assertions and requirements and founded in truth, but we also need to know how things will go if we subscribe to one or the other. At the end of life, when I look back on this path I am considering, is it one I will be glad to have traveled? Such is the concern of the Postmodern: not so much perhaps with what particular path was selected, but with the satisfaction that must surely come with the state of having chosen. A significant departure from the pessimism of the Modernists, without a doubt.
Being unfamiliar with the tenets of Buddhism or Islam, I will confine my analysis to Christianity and Materialism, those two great labels which may be placed so very interchangeably upon many of the proponents they have in common. But we cannot but ask: are they truly interchangeable? Without resorting to a comparison between Americans and third-world citizens, we will simply acknowledge that in the US our possessions color a far greater spectrum of our lives than it has for most other people who have lived, and so that we are in our very cultural identity open to the charge of materialism just as were the Greeks of ancient times to the charge of intellectual arrogance. Ordered and lucid thought was the air they breathed; an incredible amount of material prosperity is ours. Such richness does not excuse us; on the contrary, it is the stuff with which mankind has been able to accomplish great things, and so is the basis on which we are judged.
But the very magnificence of those great things that are accomplished is a large part of our problem. For all the glory that was Greece, to know its deepest failures we have only to look at the misery captured in the final struggles of the individuals who achieved her most lasting triumphs. Alexander for whom the whole world was not enough, Democritus’ Cast out this body of mine unburied, Diogenes’ Everything will soon be turned upside down, Socrates fretting over his unpaid debts as he died; all these came to the end of their days with something remaining in them unfulfilled and untouched. It cannot be denied that even the greatness of their age as demonstrated in their own life work, the elevation of reason and creativity to heights never before or after reached by humanity, could not secure for them a way to derive a lasting surety that they had chosen well; that their path had indeed been the right one.
If the ethereal world of thought and ideas cannot reward its followers with the realization of validity, I think it is a foregone conclusion that neither will iPhones and luxury off-road vehicles be able to meet our most basic philosophical needs, whether we live under the banner of Christianity or Materialism (or both). An astute observer must conclude that there is a problem with the request we are making rather than with that entity from which the request is being made. I am asking that the highest and truest test of my system of belief be to confirm me, and that has never been God’s purpose. A deeper foray into the nature of Christianity, over and against any other system of thought in human history, confirms this.
When the rich young ruler of Jewish fame came to Jesus to ask him how to accomplish eternal life, he got one of the most ironic answers in the Scriptures. Jesus actually answered his question. He gave him a list of what he should do, starting with the Ten Commandments: Do not commit adultery, Do not murder, Do not steal, Do not bear false witness, Honor your father and mother. I would have stopped with that list alone, but the young man had the audacity to continue. He needed to be confirmed, and would stop at nothing in that pursuit. So Jesus hit him where it really hurt: Sell all that you have, and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me. And because his identity was caught up in his possessions, the young man went away sad. It instantly became obvious to all standing there that the ultimate problem, the sole obstacle remaining between the young man and God, was himself.
So it is with our quest for validity. I will never begin know the depth of the riches and the wisdom and the knowledge of God, until I have followed Christ in his path of being crucified to the world. I will never see the truth of the Gospel that says you can give yourself up for love of another, until I experience the joy and fulfillment that you get back in return. I will never be satisfied of the rightness of the path I have chosen until I accept that it was chosen for me, and that One suffered and died to open my eyes to the extent of my need for him. It is only then that I will be able to accept the terrible prospect of being fully known, for it is in that moment when the light of Grace dawns on me and I know what it is to be forgiven. And it is that golden shower of light I will share with others who ask the reason for the hope that it is in me: a hope that will not disappoint.
JV
Author: Jeremy Vogan
My name is Jeremy Vogan. I live in Staunton, VA with my wife and four kids. I love to write, and seek to honestly explore the intellectual and emotional implications of following Jesus as a deeply broken person in a twisted, cruel world that is full of veiled beauty and meaning. Writing is part of how I faithfully look for Jesus Christ to someday make all things new. I'd enjoy hearing your feedback! JV