Violent Grace: Christopher Hitchens and Peniel

This post has been on my mind for some time.  I have been avoiding writing it mainly because I wanted to give it the kind of attention it deserved.  Alas, I may not have enough time to give it any time soon.  Nevertheless, I think it is worth writing.

Not long after Christopher Hitchens was diagnosed with cancer, he gave an interview with The Atlantic wherein he discussed his experience since his diagnosis.  


As Hitchens is known for his intense atheism, it is no surprise that the discussion eventually came around to religion.  Hitchens discussed his reaction to people who said they were going to pray for him.  He said he put them into three groups with three different reactions.  The first group are those who were praying for him to die and go to hell.  "To hell with you" was his response.  The second group were those who were praying that this illness would somehow lead him to a conversion.  "Thanks but no thanks" was his response.  The third group were those who were genuinely concerned about him and simply praying for him to recover.  "Fine by me, it's a nice gesture" was his response to them.


I generally enjoy listening to Hitchens.  I often find him reasonable and humorous.  Other times I find him infuriating.  I think one of the reasons I appreciate him most is that he doesn't seem to be driven by some vitriolic hatred for Christians.  Listening to Richard Dawkins, one gets the idea that not only does he want to prove Christians wrong, but he wants to cause them the most pain possible in the process.  Dawkins is the classic atheist with the mantra "There is no God ... and I hate him!"  For the most part, Hitchens avoids this.  He seems genuinely convinced that there is no God and genuinely concerned that people believe that.


It is for that reason that I found the following quote provacative.  During his interview with The Atlantic, Hitchens was asked what people would think if they were to hear that he had made a death-bed conversion.  He said:

"The entity making such a remark might be a raving, terrified person whose cancer has spread to the brain. I can't guarantee that such an entity wouldn't make such a ridiculous remark, but no one recognizable as myself would ever make such a remark."

It is that last bit, "no one recognizable as myself would ever make such a remark," that gets me.  It gets me because I think he's right.  If he were to encounter the Triune God in such a way that he could no longer deny God's existence, I think that encounter would leave a mark.  If it were a genuine encounter, he would no longer be recognizable by the same features on which his identity now rests.  It would leave him forever changed.


Genesis 32:22ff gives an account of Jacob (son of Isaac, brother of Esau) wresting with an unnamed man throughout the night.  Verse 25 says: "When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he struck him on the hip socket; and Jacob's hip was put out of joint."  Nevertheless, Jacob continued to wrestle.  Jacob refused to let the man go until he gave him a blessing.  The man responds by giving Jacob a new name: "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed." (verse 28).  


Jacob named the place "Peniel," which means "The Face of God" because there he saw the face of God, and lived.

However, he wasn't the same entity he was before the meeting. His entire identity was changed.  He walked away with a limp and a new name.

In light of that, I find myself in two of the three groups Hitchens mentioned above.  I pray that in the midst of his battle against cancer, he might see the face of God and be changed forever.  I also pray that he, like Jacob, would live.

Of Gods, Men, and the Incarnation

Jen and I watched "Of God's and Men" the other night.  It was a terrific film based on a true story of a number of Trappist (Cistercian) Monks in Algeria during the civil war in the 1990s.
The monks joined in the lives of the mostly Muslim surrounding community, got to know their concerns, fears and hopes.  They provided medical care for anyone who was in need.  They built relationships, friendships and trust.

When the civil war heats up and the Islamic extremists become increasingly violent towards their enemies, the monks begin to fear for their own safety.  When some Croatian friends of the monastery are murdered by the extremists, the monks begin to discuss whether they should return to France. 
As the violence gets closer and closer, the monks meet and patiently listen to each other's concerns and calmly discuss their disagreements.  All the while they continue their daily routine of worship and service.  In the end, each monk decides that his commitment to Christ and His service demands that they stay, even if it costs them their lives.  Eventually, seven of the monks are kidnapped, held for ransom and eventually martyred.

Artistically speaking, the movie is beautiful.  The contrast of colours, the landscape and the simplicity of the monks life are all recorded with an acute awareness of the balance between simplicity and clarity.

Theologically speaking, the movie is remarkable.  While there is no way to communicate the depths of the film in writing, I want to highlight a few aspects of the film I found poignant.

First was the way the lives of the monks were informed and framed by their worship.  Every major point in the film is punctuated by a scene of the monks at one of the daily offices or saying Mass.  The content of the reading or the hymns often cleverly juxtaposed with the violence and fear they were experiencing.  Moreover, it was often a time of worship that changed the direction of events, bringing the brothers back together or motivating them to move forward.

Second was the portrayal of the monks' focus on the Incarnation.  Throughout the film the monks affirmed that their work in that place was a participation in and a representative of the Incarnation of Christ.  They do believe that they are a sacrament to the dark, troubled world around them.

Finally, I was quite struck by their understanding of freedom.  The monks believe that fulfilling their commitment to Christ is what makes them free.  They aren't "stuck" in a monastery in northern Africa awaiting their deaths.  They are free men, servants of the Living God and ambassadors of Christ.


The film closes with a voice-over of the Abbot speaking.  Its richness and depth make it worth quoting at length:

Should it ever befall me, and it could happen today, to be a victim of the terrorism swallowing up all foreigners here, I would like my community, my church, my family, to remember that my life was given to God and to his country. That the Unique Master of all life was no stranger to this brutal departure. And that my death is the same as so many other violent ones, consigned to the apathy of oblivion. I've lived enough to know, I am complicit in the evil that, alas, prevails over the world and the evil that will smite me blindly. I could never desire such a death. I could never feel gladdened that these people I love be accused randomly of my murder. I know the contempt felt for the people here, indiscriminately. And I know how Islam is distorted by a certain Islamism. This country, and Islam, for me are something different. They're a body and a soul. My death, of course, will quickly vindicate those who call me naïve or idealistic, but they must know that I will be freed of a burning curiosity and, God willing, will immerse my gaze in the Father's and contemplate with him his children of Islam as he sees them. This thank you which encompasses my entire life includes you, of course, friends of yesterday and today, and you too, friend of last minute, who knew not what you were doing. Yes, to you as well I address this thank you and this farewell which you envisaged. May we meet again, happy thieves in Paradise, if it pleases God the Father of us both. Amen. Insha'Allah.

This quote needs to be read carefully and mindfully. The Abbot is not affirming a brand of universalism. Rather, he is clinging to hope.