The notion of a heavenly reward for the martyr would seem to be necessary part of the theology of martyrdom: it represents a promise of divine vindication, and offers a motive for such action. It is certainly worth noting the very strong emphasis on heavenly rewards and honour in the Islamic construal of martyrdom. The classic Qur’anic text associated with the martyr’s reward is surah 3:169-70:
‘And do not think of those who have been killed in the way of Allah as dead; they are rather living with their Lord, well-provided for. Rejoicing in what their Lord has given them of His bounty, and they rejoice for those who stayed behind and did not join them, knowing that they have nothing to fear and that they shall not grieve.’ [quoted in Cook p. 31]
Though the blessings are not described, the life promised to the martyr, or to the one killed in jihad, is presented not urge further acts of martyrdom but rather to comfort the living. Though the blessings of heaven are frequently described, there is no sense in which the martyr is singled out for special treatment in the Qur’an. However, in the subsequent traditional writings, the hadith, the situation is completely transformed. The figure of the martyr becomes one who is carefully described as set apart from the common mass of Muslims. The rewards are described in much greater detail. What David Cook describes as ‘probably the most frequently cited tradition lisiting these rewards’ (p. 37) describes the food and drink of paradise reserved for the martyrs in the presence of Allah. In particular, there is a strong sexual theme associated with martyrdom. Much controversy surrounds this material of course, but the sexual imagery is undoubtedly present. Cook writes:
‘The rewards for the martyr described by the Muslim jihad literature are very lurid...no one who read the jihad and martyrdom literature can avoid the frequent and graphic descriptions of the sexual delights of paradise. Although it is impossible to be certain, the fact that this material is so well attested and descriptive suggests that along with the spiritual aspects of being a martyr, there was a strong sexual pull as well.’ David Cook, Martyrdom in Islam, Themes in Islamic History (Cambridge: Cambrige University Press, 2007), p. 37
It becomes more the case in the traditional material that these rewards are used more to entice other Muslims to follow the example of the martyrs so rewarded as well as a comfort for those who remain.
The promise of heavenly reward has long been used in the Christian tradition too. For example, in Origen’s Exhortation to Martyrdom he encourages the young men Ambrose and Protoctetus by reminding them of the promises of heavenly reward in the New Testament. In this beautifully crafted passage, he manages to cite nearly all the relevant texts from the Pauline epistles:
‘…if strangers to the language of the holy Scriptures should hold us in contempt or disparage us as either impious or fools, let us remember that the ‘hope upon hope’ to be given us in ‘yet a little while’ will be given ‘by the contempt of lips, through another tongue’. And who would not welcome ‘affliction upon affliction’ that he might immediately also welcome ‘hope upon hope’? He will consider with Paul ‘that the sufferings of this present time’ with which, as it were, we purchase blessedness ‘are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us’ from God (Rom 8:18). The truth of this judgment is apparent because ‘this light momentary affliction’ (2 Cor 4:17) both is and is said to be ‘light’ for those not burdened by present hardships, since it is quite outweighed by the greater and heavier ‘weight of glory’ it is ‘preparing for us’ (2 Cor 4:17). This will happen if, when our persecutors wish to weigh down our souls, as it were, we turn our governing mind from our sufferings and look not at the present sufferings but at the prizes kept for athletes who by their endurance of these tests compete according the rules in Christ by the grace of God (cf 2 Tim 2:5). He multiplies His benefits and gives as much beyond what the toilds of the contestant deserve as it is right for Him to give as the God who does not quibble about trifles and who in His munificence knows how to increase His gifts to those who have demonstrated they love Him with all their soul by despising so far as they are able their earthen vessel.’
So, must we then conclude that the promise of heavenly rewards is an inescapable feature of a theology of martyrdom? Doesn't the idea of a reward thwart the very nature of the martyr's act by rendering it self-interested however?
3 comments:
The accusation of self-interest surely applies to all Christians (and numerous other religions as well). It's not a question of whether heavenly rewards are promised so much as why, as you point out. I think they can be used to comfort not just those left behind, but also those facing martyrdom.
That is, comfort only exists after the threat of martyrdom, which is again antecedent to steadfast faith. I think we can get off this hook...
C. S. Lewis differentiated between 'mercenary' and 'non-mercenary' rewards. The latter are where the reward is the natural outcome of the pursuit (e.g. wooing a woman resulting in a loving marriage); the former where the reward is arbitrarily related to the effort (e.g. wooing a woman to get her money). Of course, he argues that Christians seek a non-mercenary reward.
Kant remarks (Stephen Palmquist's translation of Die Religion innerhalb der Grenzen der blossen Vernunft, Bk. IV, Ch. 4, pp. 174-176):-
Take, for instance, an inquisitor, who clings fast to the uniqueness of his statutory faith even to the point of [imposing] martyrdom, and who has to pass judgment upon a so-called heretic (otherwise a good citizen) charged with unbelief. Now I ask whether, if he condemns him to death, one might say that he has judged according to his conscience (erroneous though it be), or whether one might not rather accuse him of absolute lack of conscience, be it that he merely erred, or consciously did wrong; for we can tell him to his face that in such a case he could never be quite certain that by so acting he was not possibly doing wrong. Presumably he was firm in the belief that a supernaturally revealed Divine Will (perhaps in accord with the saying, compellite intrare1) permitted him, if it did not actually impose it as a duty, to extirpate
[175]
presumptive disbelief together with the disbelievers. But was he really strongly enough assured of such a revealed doctrine, and of this interpretation of it, to venture, on this basis, to destroy a human being? That it is wrong to deprive a man of his life because of his religious faith is certain, unless (to allow for the most remote possibility) a Divine Will, made known in extraordinary fashion, has ordered it otherwise. But that God has ever uttered this terrible injunction can be asserted only on the basis of historical documents and is never apodictically certain. After all, the revelation has reached the inquisitor only through men and has been interpreted by men, and even did it appear to have come to him from God Himself (like the command delivered to Abraham to slaughter his own son like a sheep) it is at least possible that in this instance a mistake has prevailed. But if this is so, the inquisitor would risk the danger of doing what would be wrong in the highest degree; and in this very act he is behaving unconscientiously. This is the case with respect to all historical and visionary faith; that is, the possibility ever remains that an error may be discovered in it. Hence it is unconscientious to follow such a faith with the possibility that perhaps what it commands or permits may be wrong, i.e., with the danger of disobedience to a human duty which is certain in and of itself.
And further: even were an act commanded by (what is held to be) such a positive revealed law allowable in itself, the question arises whether spiritual rulers or teachers, after presumably becoming convinced of it themselves, should impose it upon the people as an article of faith for their acceptance (on penalty of forfeiting their status). Since assurance on this score rests on no grounds of proof other than the historical, and since there ever will remain in the judgment of the people (if it subjects itself to the slightest test) the absolute possibility of an error which has crept in through their interpretation or through previous classical exegesis, the clergyman
would be requiring the people at least inwardly to confess something to be as true as is their belief in God, i.e., to confess, as though in the presence of God, something which they do not know with certainty. Such, for instance, would be the acknowledgment, as a part of religion directly commanded by God, of the setting aside of a certain day for the periodic public cultivation of godliness; or, again, the confession of firm belief in a mystery which the layman does not even understand. Here the
[176]
layman's spiritual superior would himself go counter to conscience in forcing others to believe that of which he himself can never be wholly convinced; he should therefore in justice consider well what he does, for he must answer for all abuse arising out of such a compulsory faith. Thus there may, perhaps, be truth in what is believed but at the same time untruthfulness1 in the belief (or even in the mere inner confession thereof), and this is in itself damnable.
Post a Comment