Abstract
John Cleese, Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbett—grainy black-and-white footage—and a comedy sketch both simple and ingenious, satirising the British class system. Cleese, tall and upper class, looking down on Barker, medium height and middle class. Barker, looking up to Cleese and down to Corbett, short, working class, and ‘knowing his place’. Corbett looking up to them both! Funny, insightful and uncomfortable, as good satire is meant to be.
Several variations on the original classic are to be found but to my knowledge not yet the one involving the Pharisee and the tax collector, with maybe a shepherd or fisherman in between! The self-righteous religious person, an upstanding member of the community, thankful not to be the treacherous social pariah collecting taxes for the oppressors—or even the hard-working breadwinner, whose unsociable hours inhibit their religious observance. Looking down smugly on those less holy, less worthy, and surely less acceptable, whilst being looked up to with respect, humility, or resentment? And the tax collectors, ‘they know their place!’
We would never be so crude, of course. This is a caricature. An extreme version of the attitude of a few? But the tendency to look down on others is one that needs to be guarded against. Few things are more unappealing than the self-righteousness of the religiously devout, especially when coupled with contempt for those who don’t attain their high standards. There is no place for such hubris if indeed the “first will be last, and the last will be first”.
Perhaps a more sophisticated challenge here, however, is how to balance humility with good self-esteem. Clearly, the attitude of the Pharisee in the parable is to be resisted, but on the other hand how much beating of our breasts in penitence is healthy and life-giving? Confession is good for the soul, but how many are our ‘apostasies’ and how readily would we acknowledge our ‘wickedness’ and “the iniquity of our ancestors”?
This question has been brought into sharper focus for me in recent times as my young daughters sit with me in church and start to question some of the words they are asked to say. In some liturgies more than others, they struggle to identify with the need to turn away from evil, to confess their sinfulness and admit they are not worthy. This is not because they are especially good and holy children but because it is in marked contrast to the culture of affirmation and positivity they experience both at home and at school. In their world, as the song goes, “You’ve got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, latch on to the affirmative” (ironically written in the form of a sermon and citing Jonah in the whale and Noah in the ark as examples of good practice!).
I recognise that I am on the edge of heresy here. Augustine of Hippo and Pelagius argued this out in the early fifth century—and Augustine won. Pelagius’ view of human nature was deemed far too positive; created good and with the wherewithal to determine what is right and what is wrong—and to choose accordingly. Grace, for him, was the God-given ability of all humanity to make the right choices. Augustine, on the other hand, espoused what has come to be the more orthodox position, in which humanity is created good, falls, and is then rescued by the grace of God. Salvation is not a reward for making right choices but a free and undeserved gift. And even the good things that humanity achieves are down to the ongoing activity of God’s grace.
In returning to my daughters and the school cultures they inhabit, I note intriguingly that Pelagianism is alive and well. In various forms of words, it has been stated on numerous occasions that, “there are no naughty children here, only those who sometimes make wrong choices”. We all have the God-given ability to make the right choices so “accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, latch on to the affirmative”, and goodness and righteousness will flourish! I’m not sure that saying ‘Amen!’ to that makes one a heretic but it does highlight the culture clash we are exploring.
Clearly we are not to “continue in sin in order that grace may abound”, but a necessary step in Augustine’s logic is the fall and the notion that all humanity is contaminated by sin from birth. His understanding of grace is directly related to his understanding of sin and human nature; you can’t really have one without the other. In order fully to appreciate our dependency on the graciousness of God, we must acknowledge our fallen and sinful state. This we do through making our confession, “beating our breasts’”, and humbling ourselves before God. Forgiven and liberated, and with grace continuing its work within us, goodness and righteousness will flourish. ‘Amen!’ to that, too!
I think we need to plot a path—a ‘third way’—in which we may hold in tension all that is good in these two seemingly conflicting approaches. Cultures and communities which promote and nurture good self-esteem are to be encouraged and affirmed. They are more likely to produce secure and well-adjusted people, hopefully less prone to pride and arrogance, and to looking down on others. After all, we are “fearfully and wonderfully made”, and Jesus has called us ‘friends’. In that security, however, and with maturity, there will come the realisation that at times, “I can will what is right, but I cannot do it. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I do” (Romans 7:18b–19). If salvation is the reward for always making the right choices, then it feels very elusive. If salvation is a free and undeserved gift for those who are loved and cherished by God whether our choices are right or wrong, I’m feeling more hopeful.
I was in a context recently in which someone was criticised for “having a tendency to be too positive”. It is a difficult criticism to fathom or accept and yet, maybe Pelagius was guilty of the same tendency? Little, if anything, accentuates the positive like knowing we are created and loved by God, but, in standing before God and saying, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!”we can also “eliminate the negative”. Augustine was more realistic about human nature, thereby allowing us more profoundly to “latch on to the affirmative”. ‘Amen!’ to that!