History of God in Human Stories
“Glory to the God in the highest, and peace to His people on earth”.
Karl Kohlhase in the song “Glory to God the Highest” portrays the birth of Jesus (the Messiah) with the expression “Glory to God in the highest, and peace to His people on earth”. The lyrics eloquently give meaning to the birth of Jesus: God reveals Himself to create peace on Earth longed for by His followers.
The history of God revealing Himself enters the real world in a series of human stories. However, simple stories are at a loss to translate God’s revelation due to limited language. “God is too rich and unlimited so that a religious tradition, which is of course limited, will not exhaustively be able to dip into the perfection and the fullness of God.” (Schillebeeckx, 1992:225).
Therefore, making an absolute interpretation is dangerous and can be fatal. The meaning of the unlimited “glory of God” should find a concrete illustration that describes human relations. Glorious God manifests in a real figure that shows solidarity and concern over our situation of poverty: Jesus was born in a cattle shed.
The atmosphere of poverty at the birth of Jesus changes our view in “praising and glorifying God”. God needs no human praises. Praising and glorifying God is just realized when humans fully live. Iranaeus briefly put is as Gloria Dei est vivens homo (the glory of God is living humanity). Humans fully live when they comprehend life in line with the aim of their creation: Sharing the image of God; all-righteous, all-loving and all-merciful.
Not everyone who says to me, “Lord, Lord!” will enter the kingdom of heaven.
The human side of Jesus challenges the piety of hypocrites. Not everyone who says to me, “Lord, Lord!” will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven (Matthew 7:21).
What is the meaning of doing the will of God? It’s none other than caring for the suffering of fellow humans: For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me (Matthew 25:35).
Understanding the suffering of victims means building close ties with them. By stirring up responsibility, victims justify the meaning of freedom. In this way, concern over fellow humans makes the history of God become real in human stories. Refusing to help relieve the suffering of fellow humans means closing oneself to the will of God. The dignity of humans as the image of God is thus despised. So, whatever the justification is, if in the name of religion people teach violence, hatred, let alone murder, it means they despise the fundamental nature of God’s image.
Compassion against mystification
As an irony to violence and hatred, the birth of Jesus in poverty unveils God’s revelation as Agape (compassion). God reveals Himself in the memory of the suffering of those who are marginalized and oppressed by big narrations of success filled with the desire for power. Against the big narrations, His birth calls for human concern and solidarity.
This theology challenges theism that is steeped in the legitimation of power. So the use of the “God” concept is criticized as far as it’s only meant for political interests. God is a mere frame of the power legitimation project. Consequently, human stories are no longer an extension of God’s history, because God is given the impression of intervening through the action of power-thirsty humans.
Perpetrators of violence in the name of religion, according to Nelson-Pallmeyer, feel that they become an extension of God’s hand that is punishing. They enter the process of criminal mystification: Their action is seen as some merit or achievement. Mystification is rooted in the tradition as if God desired violence and as if this were written in sacred texts. In the violence of religions, the image of God is a punisher or oppressor. This is not a matter of interpretation.
There is the more fundamental problem that the violence seemingly desired by God is used as a means of justifying crime, violence, threat, vengeance. Nelson-Pallmeyer questions whether this tradition is the human projection of punishment and vengeance for the justification of violence. The violence of God becomes part of His holiness so that it is right (Nelson-Pallmeyer, 2007: 43-44).
God’s violence is disguised in the framework of repentance. The category of violence is accepted as a corrective function. The use of divine threat to human behavior is considered proper because it is for the sake of humans’ own good (Nelson-Pallmeyer, 2007: 86). As a result, the pursuit of truth is largely marked by violence.
God serves as a pretext for all conflict and justification for violence. In reality, however, human dignity cannot be violated in the name of God. Let no violence tarnish human stories, because it denies the history of God: the history of salvation that brings peace and love.
Caring for all
Welcoming Christmas is appealing to embrace the love of God and create a peaceful life. Love is the force of life, while violence is the culture of death; Jesus comes to bring unifying love: For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them (Matthew 18:20). In the story told by Elie Wiesel (Nobel laureate for Peace 1986), Matthew’s quotation above implies ‘loving fellow humans means glorifying God’.
Wiesel tells the story of friendship between two persons in the tsarist era in Russia. One of them was caught by the tsarist secret police. The other confessed he had been a criminal in order to free his friend. Both were jailed.
Hearing about the incident, the tsar sent for both of them. He said, “You are accused of subversion. It’s punishable by death. But I’m impressed by your friendship. I will release you as long as I may be the third friend.”
So, if we love or care for each other, God will be with us to become our third friend. Hence, gathering in the name of Jesus is not just praying, but also sharing and caring for each other. The history of God turns into reality in human stories of mutual love and care.
Every religion offers love in its typical style. But the typical features of religions should be understood by all groups. Such religious typicality will be meaningful if it opens the universal dimension of humanity.
Luc Ferry, a French political philosopher, has proposed an interfaith peace project with the idea of “concrete universality” (L Ferry, 1998: 246). The analogy of concrete universality is an artwork, which is seen as successful if most people appreciate it. Concrete universality is a typical form of living together, but it is meaningful for the entire humanity.
Religions are invited to make the lives of their followers as artworks, by taking part in living together to give meaning to everybody. Living as artworks means opening access to the universal through the typical authentication of religions: It is the form of freedom that enables one to get relieved of particularism.
Such figures as Mahatma Gandhi, Mother Teresa or KH Abdurrahman Wahid (Gus Dur) constitute an expression of artworks, a manifestation of the concrete universality. It is universal because they are accepted and appreciated by all religious followers and groups, and concretely rooted in their respective religions.
We should also remember the artwork of humanity of Riyanto, a member of Banser, a youth group of Nahdlatul Ulama, from Mojokerto, East Java, a hero who died while hugging a bomb to save Christians celebrating Christmas at Ebenheizer Church, Mojokerto, on Dec. 24, 2000. His sacrifice is part of the history of God in creating peace on Earth.
Haryatmoko, Lecturer at Sanata Dharma University.