Martyrologists who exaggerate the details of the suffering and torture of the martyrs in order to increase the rhetorical impact of their work are in fact doing the martyr a great disservice. The risk here is that the martyr is painted as merely a victim, and the rhetorical impact of telling the story is then limited to pathos for the suffering of the victim. The content of their witness then disintegrates...The gospels show the way here: as we read of the death of Jesus, we may feel pity for the disciples, and sorrow for the role our fellow human beings played in his execution, and even disgust and outrage at the injustice perpetuated: but the evangelists do not draw us to pity Jesus. They do not dwell on the gruesome details of his torture and suffering (pace Mel Gibson); they do not portray him as powerless or voiceless; they do not depict the sadistic pleasure of his executioners. Jesus is no victim; events do not get out of hand for him at all – he is seen as always ahead of them. His innocence is not established merely so we can feel appalled at the miscarriage of justice, but so that we can understand the significance of his sacrifice in a theological matrix.
There were (and are) worse, more painful deaths; there certainly were (and are) more pitiable victims of injustice. Jesus is not, like some protagonist in a Greek tragedy, the victim of a twist in fate or the misalignment of the planets. An account that emphasizes the pathos of Jesus’ death quite misses the point – which is that the cross of Christ is the expression par excellence of the divine rule over all. It is the moment of the enthronement of Israel’s messiah in Zion and over the whole world. Likewise, a martyrology that dwells too luridly on the blood that flows is not a martyrology but a victimology. A death cast in these terms in the end witnesses only to itself as a death. The best of the early martyr-acts, for all their faults, do not lapse in this direction: Polycarp, for example, though of great age, dies in such a way that his captors look more pitiable than he. Events are not in their control (nor Polycarp's); but Polycarp's faith and asssurance makes it a triumph. Who could feel sorry for him?
6 comments:
Now, at lunch, Dr David Wenham made the point that Mark does emphasise Jesus' deriliction/abandonment on the cross.
Fair enough? Though, the loneliness of Christ on the cross certainly has a theological point to it (ie, no-one else shared in the work.. it was all his). But it would be churlish to deny that there is an emotional impact here. However, again i would say that that impact is not one of pathos, so much as awareness of the cost of what is borne and of my own inability to meet that cost. Othello dies also abandoned and rejected, an outcast: but whereas he inspires my pity, Jesus does not.
Hi Michael,
I may have remembered it wrong, but wasn't Irenaeus' attitude towards martyrdom almost the opposite of Polycarp's? I seem to recall that he wrote to the church in Rome requesting that they shouldn't prevent his martyrdom. He wanted to be martyred, because he thought it would bring closer to God. Or have I got it wrong? Whose attitude ended up being the most influential for the early church?
"But it would be churlish to deny that there is an emotional impact here. However, again i would say that that impact is not one of pathos, so much as awareness of the cost of what is borne and of my own inability to meet that cost."
I'm not sure I'm able to categorise the emotional impacts the Gospel accounts have on me as neatly as this... Does an awareness of "the cost of what is borne and of my own inability to meet that cost" preclude also feeling sorrow for Jesus? - I don't particularly like the word pity in this context because it can have condescending connotations.
For my part, I find it very difficult to read the following verses in Mark 14 and not feel a profound sorrow for Jesus as well as an awareness of the cost he bore:
33 And he took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be greatly distressed and troubled. 34 And he said to them, “My soul is very sorrowful, even to death. Remain here and watch.” 35 And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. 36 And he said, “Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.”
Thanks Ron: still thinking about that... I guess you are right, you can't narrow down emotion. I am trying to point to a distinctive difference in genre that the gospels present us with as opposed to say Greek tragedy.
Roger, you are thinking of Ignatius. Perhaps he is the screwiest of the fathers. But he needs respectin' cause he is so ancient.
Why should someone be respected simply becase he is so ancient? Isn't screwy screwy?
BTW, on an entirely different topic altogether, a new forum has opened on the Sydney Anglicans site concerning pre-millenialism. Thought you might be interested in putting your two cents worth in.
Yes rog: screwy is as screwy does...
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