Terry Eagleton: Reason, Faith and Revolution

Terry Eagleton's latest book is a stinging attack on all things Dawkins and Hitchens, or 'Ditchkins' as he calls them.

In amongst the ridicule he rightly heaps on them, there is some fantastic prose about the essence of Christianity. Not surprisingly, this bit caught my eye:

The most radical form of self-denial is to give up not cigarettes or whiskey but one's own body, an act which is traditionally known as martyrdom. The martyr yields up his or her most precious possession, but would prefer not to; the suicide, by contrast, is glad to be rid of a life that has become an unbearable burden. If Jesus wanted to die, then he was just another suicide, and his death was as worthless and futile as a suicide bomber's messy finale. Martyrs, as opposed to suicides, are those who place their deaths at the service of others. Even their dying is an act of love. Their deaths are such that they can bear fruit in the lives of others. (p. 26)

Eagleton, a socialist from way back, can see the radicalism of the New Testament in clear focus: 'The New Testament is a brutal destroyer of human illusions. If you follow Jesus and don't end up dead, it appears you have some explaining to do.' Quite... And here's more:

The Christian way of indicating that faith is in the end a question of choice is the notion of choice. Like the world itself from a Christian point of view, faith is a gift. This means among other things that Christians are not in conscious possession of all the reasons why they believe in God... (p. 138)

Intriguingly, Eagleton has also noticed that some of the most vigorous intellectual discussion taking place in the West is being done by theologians (to the great surprise of Ditchkins)

...theology, however implausible many of its truth claims, is one of the most ambitious theoretical arenas left in an increasingly specialised world - one whose subject is nothing les than the nature and destiny of humanity itself, in relation to what it takes to be its transcendent source of life. These are not questions one can easily raise in analytic philosophy or political science.

Eagleton describes Christianity as a kind of 'tragic humanism', a type of thinking that holds that only 'by a process of self-dispossession and radical remaking can humanity come into its own'. (p. 169). By George, I think he's got it...

AN Wilson returns to Christianity

Famous atheist A.N. Wilson has decided to become a Christian once more. See here and here. Extraordinary. And he always was an annoyingly good writer...

Here's some highlights:

Read Pastor Bonhoeffer’s book Ethics, and ask yourself what sort of mad world is created by those who think that ethics are a purely human construct. Think of Bonhoeffer’s serenity before he was hanged, even though he was in love and had everything to look forward to.

See, that's one for the martyrs...

... the real category mistake made by atheists is not about God, but about human beings. Turn to the Table Talk of Samuel Taylor Coleridge – “Read the first chapter of Genesis without prejudice and you will be convinced at once . . . ‘The Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life’.” And then Coleridge adds: “‘And man became a living soul.’ Materialism will never explain those last words.”

On Easter:

Easter does not answer such questions by clever-clever logic. Nor is it irrational. On the contrary, it meets our reason and our hearts together, for it addresses the whole person.
In the past, I have questioned its veracity and suggested that it should not be taken literally. But the more I read the Easter story, the better it seems to fit and apply to the human condition. That, too, is why I now believe in it.
Easter confronts us with a historical event set in time. We are faced with a story of an empty tomb, of a small group of men and women who were at one stage hiding for their lives and at the next were brave enough to face the full judicial persecution of the Roman Empire and proclaim their belief in a risen Christ.