Honest to God
John A T Robinson, SCM Press, 1963
Reluctant radical
Writing nearly 40 years ago, the then Bishop of Woolwich in South
London was charitably tentative in exploring new ways of viewing
traditional Christianity. He thought that what he wrote might "...
seem to be radical, and doubtless to many heretical." But he was
fairly sure "... that in retrospect, it will be seen to have erred in
not being nearly radical enough". Neither Robinson nor his
publishers had any idea that Honest to God would create the furore
it did. The controversy stirred up by the book raged for some years in the
mid-sixties. It is now a mere whisper from the past. The Bishop himself is
dead. A colleague of Robinson remarked later that wave after wave of bitter
criticism broke over the bishop after the publication of Honest to God.
Another wrote,
The fame - or notoriety - brought upon him ... was, I
know, a great surprise to him, and I don't think it should be held against
him if a popular paperback intended simply to set people thinking has been
found ... to be in some ways muddled and unoriginal.
The book
certainly contains little or no truly first-hand thought. It is a summary of the thoughts of others, primarily of Rudolf Bultmann, Paul
Tillich and Dietrich Bonhoeffer seasoned by the author's observations. Robinson stresses again and again
throughout that he is not challenging authority but merely attempting to
stimulate the faithful to think about tradition. That a highly-placed
Christian asks questions and tentatively proposes answers isn't new and
wasn't new then. Why then the storm of debate, accusation and vilification
which the book stimulated? The answer can be found in the
social situation in which publication took place. It's commonplace to
observe that the 1960s were a time of startling transitions. The contents of Honest
to God were not striking in themselves. Robinson was clear
that in academia "... anything I have to say is very familiar and
unoriginal." But the climate was right and the book took off in a big
way. Robinson thought that there was only one issue - whether
these "familiar and unoriginal" questions
... remain on
the fringe of the intellectual debate or are dragged into the middle and
placed squarely under men's noses.
He was right. People read his
offering and sensed that it spoke deeply to them. It was the social
climate, the clear and simple language of the book, and the
hierarchical position of the author in the Church which
stimulated rapid sales of more than a million copies of Honest to God. The
book also triggered a severe backlash from his fellow bishops and many
others. The then Archbishop of Canterbury criticised Robinson on television
(without consulting him first). In a later public address the Archbishop
Ramsey wrote,
I was especially grieved at the method chosen by the Bishop
for presenting his ideas to the public [which] caused public
sensation and did much damage. Many of us who read the article [in a
newspaper] and its slogans might not have had the opportunity or the
necessary brains for reading the book referred to.
The
Archbishop's tone is revealing. He expects questions to be raised in the
privacy of the Church's back rooms, among those who can handle them
without shock and dismay. The sensibilities of the faithful are damaged by
questions and tentative answers. Why? Because by implication they don't have the "necessary
brains" to deal with such matters.
The patronising attitude of
Archbishop Ramsey is striking. He was a man who didn't like being pressed
about awkward matters - as I can testify, having been once severely put down by
him when honestly trying to express my doubts about prayer. What of Honest to God now, some four
decades later? As a book it has long since left centre-stage. The issues
Robinson raised are still being discussed. In some ways, the debate has advanced
and become clearer. The public response to authors like John Spong and
Richard Holloway witness to an ongoing hunger amongst ordinary people, not
necessarily for cast iron answers, but for the growth and new life which
open debate stimulates. What I think is striking is the continuing
inability of the Church's power-structures to adjust to what is becoming
plainer by the day - that only when Christians are honest before God will
they be taken seriously by the world at large. The current climate
of internal squabbling over the non-issue of homosexuality is a good
example. Likewise, the instant negative reflex of Church leaders about the
burning matter of assisted dying is highly damaging. And the Church's belated
and half-hearted response to environmental challenges provokes a weary
exasperation in those who have been struggling for decades against
establishment opposition. And behind all that lies a stubborn,
irrational and Spirit-denying refusal to consider that Christian teachings
need radical reworking. This challenge is not recent. It arises from a
series of paradigm changes which began three centuries or more ago.
Refusal to change has caused a substantial exodus of good Christian people
from the Holy Land of traditional Christianity into the secular wilderness
- a sort of exile in reverse. Robinson takes this up when remarks that "It will doubtless seem to
some that I have by implication abandoned the Christian faith and practice
altogether." He continues,
... unless we are prepared
for the kind of revolution of which I have spoken it [Christianity] will come to
be abandoned ... we have to be prepared for everything to go into
the melting - even our most cherished religious categories and moral
absolutes.
If Bishop Robinson has not been heard by the establishment, he has
been heard by many ordinary people. I suspect that many have left the
hallowed cloisters because they too have not been heeded. My
God or yours?
Robinson begins by addressing the paradigm (a word coming into use at the
time he was writing) of God as "out there" or
somehow "above" the universe. He rightly points out that this
concept of God tends to remain part of our mental furniture even though we
no longer think of reality in these terms. How, he asks, to avoid losing God completely if
we jettison what is no longer a useful way of imagining God? Will the
ordinary person be able to make the transition? I think the answer of
the past 38 years is, "Yes" - though it often means not
remaining in the official Church structures. The 1960s saw the
beginnings of the wider debate about what's now loosely called
"postmodernism". If you're anything like me, you are bewildered by the obscurity of postmodern jargon. It's too early to tell
if it will fade away like a Boojum, or take comprehensible form and
eventually change
our perceptions. But I suspect that Robinson's questions about God are in
the process of being answered in a way he couldn't have guessed at. It
seems to me that the postmodern God is being increasingly thought of as our
creation. Robinson seizes upon the metaphor of God as the
"ground of our being", a non-traditional image elaborated by
Tillich. As a metaphor it is no longer one of
separation and distance ("out there" or "in heaven")
but of solidity and depth. When we worship "God" we give worth
to - or, as we would now say, give special attention to - what we think is
ultimate in our lives, the ground of our being. But unlike supposedly
sacrosanct traditional metaphors, it is postmodern in the sense that
it is a metaphor deliberately invented to convey meaning to contemporary
minds. If this is good, why not a host of other non-traditional
metaphors? What Robinson has got
wrong is his defence of what he calls myth. He assumes, as do many, that
the "myth" of creation and the "myth" of Eden, for
example, have always been understood as metaphorical constructions. I have
come across this assertion more than once. But I have never encountered sound
evidence that this was in fact so. On the contrary, it seems to me that
what we call myths were actually objectified in the sense that most
thought that "this, or something very like it, actually
happened." To this day, many millions address the Bible, the Koran
and the Hindu deities as reflecting reality, as recording history
in the sense that certain events really happened. What sophisticated
scholars call "myth" is for them objective truth (though not
"objective" in the sense that Westerners use the word). Robinson
doesn't face up to the hard truth that most biblical myths are more than
mere
metaphors to the majority of Christians even today. For that reason they can and must be dispensed with except as
relics of another way of understanding reality. At best they can be taken
only as picturesque ways of helping us grasp aspects of the world as seen
through modern eyes. Church leaders in the years following the
publication of Honest to God essentially washed
their hands of Robinson's ground-breaking book. I know of no evidence
indicating that the Church of England hierarchy has taken on board the
problems he publicised, never mind any solution. In effect, the Honest to God
debate continues outside the Church. As I write there is a distinct
movement towards a postmodern consensus that God is a human construction,
that we continually envisage God in terms which convey meaning to each new
era. Robinson would
not and could not have foreseen this response. Christian exiles
eagerly seize upon the utterances of those few Church authorities brave
enough to raise their heads over the parapet. And, need I say
it, the Church is fighting yet another rearguard action to preserve its
pre-modern traditions. God in
heaven!
Robinson was a scholar of the New Testament whose PhD thesis was
described by his tutor as perhaps the best he'd ever assessed. It is
therefore hardly surprising that the discussion in this book of theism is vulnerable to attack by experts in
a subject not his. And attack him they did - apparently unconscious that Honest to
God had not been written for them. The fundamental question is how
"God" can be both an Unknowable Absolute and simultaneously an
entity with whom one can have a personal relationship. Robinson, rightly
in my view, picks the only viable alternative, what he calls
"naturalism". The latter requires that we do away with the
supernatural (Robinson calls it "supranaturalism"). Naturalism
... identifies God, not indeed with the totality of things, the
universe, per se, but with what gives meaning and direction to
nature.
In
effect, traditional stress on the transcendence of God "... may well
collapse into meaninglessness" writes Robinson. The idea of
"heaven" - by which is meant the idea of a separate supernatural
dimension - is, he thinks,
... the greatest obstacle to an
intelligent faith - and indeed will progressively be so to all except the
'religious' few.
Prophetic words indeed! The evidence is now incontrovertible that this
is precisely what is coming about. Fewer and fewer
in the West live as though traditional
Christian faith means anything much in their lives. Those who do worship
in a traditional way seem able to partition their minds into compartments
- Church assumptions in one, and real life in another. The author puts the
matter succinctly.
If Christianity is to survive, let alone to
recapture 'secular' man, there is no time to lose in detaching it from
this scheme of thought, from this particular theology or logos
about theos, and thinking hard about what we should put in its
place.
Alas! Here we are in the third millennium and not only has nothing
significant changed in traditional Christianity, but precious little thought has been
given to the new paradigms required to reach the ordinary so-called
secular person in the 21st century. The informal alliance called the
Anglican Communion of which the Church of England is part appears to be
reluctantly glad that its centre of gravity is shifting
to the developing world. Glad because this is taken to prove the viability
of traditional orthodoxy. And
reluctant because Western Anglicans don't much like losing power. The
fact is that all churches are refusing to see the signs of the times. However
long it takes, it is now certain the the 80/20 proportion of secular to
religious people in the West will one day also be the proportion in the
developing world. In other words, the Christian faith will
increasingly be perceived as irrelevant worldwide, not just in the West. Only if the churches take
seriously Robinson's challenge from the 1960s can Christianity be re-fashioned
into a form which is able to capture the hearts and minds of Mr and Mrs
Secular. The prophet Jesus
If Robinson makes a major error it's perhaps that he starts in the
wrong place. True, any thinking person wonders about God, tries to think a
path through mysteries and apparent paradoxes which arise, and seeks to
appreciate the possibility of a divine presence. But none of this is the essence of
Christianity. A person is at the heart of the Christian way of
life. Without an actual, real,
flesh-and-blood man who lived and died on this planet there can be no
such thing as Christianity. Only one chapter of this book
focuses on Jesus of Nazareth. He is called "the man for
others", a phrase coined by Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Here Robinson
treads on hallowed ground. He attacks the idea of incarnation - that Jesus
was a God-Man, somehow combining in himself two natures, one fully human and
the other fully divine.
Tradition, he points out, has always been Docetic in that it says that
"...Christ only appeared to be a man or looked like a man:
'underneath' he was God." However hard churchmen may protest that
this is a caricature of the truth, Robinson's conclusion can't be escaped.
The
... traditional supranaturalistic way of describing the
Incarnation inevitably suggests that Jesus was really God almighty walking
about on earth, dressed up as a man ... for a limited period taking part
in a charade.
Robinson suggests that the God-man Jesus might survive
as "myth". The myth is useful to "...indicate the significance of
the events, the divine depth of the history." He correctly points out that in the doctrine of the
incarnation, traditional Christianity breaks
down. To post-Enlightenment humanity it is a nonsensical proposition. But, it seems to me,
Robinson does not face the hard fact that history, not myth, is what makes anyone Christian.
Christianity is an historical religion. It is based not upon myth but upon
events which actually happened in the same way that events today happen.
Bishop John Spong proposes that we use "story" rather than
"myth" to talk about Jesus. His suggestion may do, for nobody thinks a story is
literally true. And a "story" can be made about history. We've had thousands of years to hallow the story form of
truth. The modern novel is a good example of this. But myths have a habit of being
reified. That will no longer do. Several
pages are taken up with an explanation that Jesus didn't claim anything
special for himself, as if that's crucial in dismissing the incarnation. But this is essentially a detour into New
Testament detail. Robinson eventually puts the important question: "What is
Christ for us today?" He answers, leaning heavily on Bonhoeffer,
Jesus is 'the man for others', the one in whom Love has completely
taken over.
He develops the idea further. But I couldn't, either in 1963 or
now, get rid of the impression that Robinson is playing a clever word game, creating interesting
verbal formulas which look good in print but don't resonate in life. He plays his word games because, I
think, he's striving desperately to avoid an ultimately unpalatable
conclusion which, if he had voiced it, would in 1963 have opened him up to
charges of heresy. The inevitable conclusion of being Christian in a
non-supernatural reality, of recognising that the doctrine of the
incarnation is today a verbal mind-game, is that Jesus is fully a man, nothing
more. The Muslim faith is correct. Jesus was a prophet not God incarnate. That makes him no less worthy of being our forerunner or pioneer. But
it does mean that this "man for others" is not divine and would no
doubt have been horrified to have been called that in his lifetime.
Robinson dodges around this conclusion like a cat on a hot tin roof. It's
impossible now to probe Robinson's mind to discover if prudence prevented
him drawing this conclusion, or if he was simply unable to face up to it.
But there's little doubt in my mind that it's an unacknowledged outcome of
the arguments he advances. Others have since criticised the doctrine of
the incarnation - for example, John Hick and others in The Myth of God
Incarnate (1993). They were condemned in a Church of England General
Synod. If this view was held today by a Roman Catholic bishop,
excommunication by Pope Benedict would be instant. So we can reasonably conclude that the Church has moved no further
forward in this matter. Filling the pews
Robinson doubts that "... the main function of the Church is to
make or keep men religious." He's four-square behind a Church called
to live and work as an integral part of society, in no way separate or
distinguishable from it. Separation, he says, is not between the Church and
society, but between society and religion.
The true radical is the
man who continually subjects the Church to the judgement of the Kingdom,
to the claims of God in the increasingly non-religious world which the
Church exists to serve.
As it is, though, the Church is presently organised
(in the 2000s as in 1963) "...to make or keep men religious." If
Robinson had been less tentative he might have taken this matter a step
further. He might have pointed out the vast sums spent by the Church
on keeping the pews as full as possible - surely a misdirection of money
and effort. He might have wondered if religion in this context isn't
itself a sort of heresy. How is it possible for the Church to support its
official way of life while a single child dies of starvation, for
example? Robinson supposes that "... purging out the dead myths,
and being utterly honest before God" will minimise or prevent the pilpul
of doctrine and the hollow, formal worship of organised religion. If he'd
lived today he would have perceived that very little has been purged, and
few are able to be honest before God. Whatever his detractors and (dare I
say it) his persecutors said, none could rightly deny that he cared
deeply for justice and righteousness. He hoped that one solution might
be that
... the Church must become genuinely and increasingly lay
... the laos or people of God in the world.
It seems
to me that Robinson failed to perceive what might have come to him later -
that the hierarchy of the Church has a huge investment in the status
quo. It is extraordinarily difficult - and here I speak from personal
experience - to challenge the Christian establishment without appearing
brash and arrogant. Success in this respect brings instant ejection. Nor should one expect to be listened to in the sense
that those in power (and power is an entirely apposite word) are
themselves asking similar questions and seeking radical answers. They are unable to do
this honestly before God because, in the final analysis, their power rests
on a
claim to possessing absolute truth. Jesus, they are bound to say, is the final answer
for all people in all times and in all places. Now absolute truth banishes
radical questions of the sort the Bishop of Woolwich asks in this book
because it can't deal with provisional, open-ended answers. Indeed, despite official protestations,
the Church forbids any questions. To this day the Roman Catholic
Church restricts questions to the better explanation of traditional
doctrine. So what's the point of asking any but the questions
to which you
already have answers? The only way to be the people of God in the world,
then as now, is either to leave the Church or to stay in it as though one
doesn't belong. John Spong calls this being a Christian in exile. Very few Christian structures and groups
can rest easy with this. Which, I suppose, is why so many have drifted out of their pews,
through the half-open door and into the wide world. Honest
to God has had its brief day. It was never a great book. Its strength
lay in impacting the many and awakening in them a sense that God is to
be found in ordinary life first and only then - if at all - in the comfortable pew. [Home]
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