Inside and outside: take a second look

"[...] if we are to understand a great religion it is always first of all necessary to that we should find out, not merely what its formularies are, but what it has meant in the experience of those who follow it. That is the only way in which we can pronounce judgement on it. The man who stands outside of a religion altogether, and merely criticises its theological formularies, is like a blind man attempting to pronounce judgement upon pictures from hearsay. If, for example, a man should repudiate the doctrine of the Trinity simply on the ground that it clashes with his own mathematical conceptions, without ever inquiring how it has come about that people quite as mathematical as himself have none the less felt driven by their experience to formulate their belief in this way, he is like a blind man who should deny the possibility of perspective on the ground that pictures are painted in two dimensions."

- William Temple, The Kingdom of God, 1-2.

Of course it is possible to know something of things from the outside, indeed, sometimes one must be outside to see the whole in a particular way. However, what Archbishop Temple is pointing out is that the converse is also true: sometimes one must be inside an experience to know what terms used to describe that experience mean. To use an example from C. S. Lewis (whose "Meditation in a Toolshed" makes much the same point), who has the more important perspective on romantic love: a young man in the first flush of new love, or the neurologist who studies the electrical patterns and chemical changes in the brain, but has never known what these feel like from the inside? Of course, both perspectives are important. But our tendency is to give precedence to the objective viewpoint that observes and does not participate (or rather, who participates primarily through observation). In some circumstances, this is an important stance. But it is a mistake to make this priority absolute and universal.

Indeed, even the observer who attempts an "objective" perspective is far from neutral, but brings her assumptions and categories to her experience of observation. But here I have begun to repeat contemporary platitudes. So I will finish with one more:

Never criticise a man until you have walked a mile in his shoes. Then, when you criticise him, you are a mile away - and you have his shoes.

Mary's melody: a revolutionary hope V

3. A revolutionary life
The humble lifted high, the proud brought down. This is what God is like. This is what his king Jesus is like. This is what his kingdom is like: many who are first will be last and many of the last will be first (Mark 10.31). God turns the world upside down to set it the right way up. This is God’s revolution.

And he invites us to join in. We are to be revolutionaries. We are to see the world upside down to see it the right way up.

Back in the first half of last century India was under British rule. The Anglican bishop William Temple, later archbishop of Canterbury, warned his missionaries to India not to read the Magnificat in public. He feared that it would be so inflammatory that it might start a revolution!

Martin Luther, the great 16thC reformer, said that Mary’s Magnificat “comforts the lowly and terrifies the rich.” The upside down God is a comfort to the distraught, the destitute, the downtrodden. But he’s no comfort to the comfortable. If Mary’s song is true, it “comforts the lowly and terrifies the rich.”

My question to us is: are we terrified? If not, perhaps we haven’t yet grasped the negative side of this divine inversion. We like to hear about the last being first, but remember: many of the first will also be last. We’re quick to see ourselves as victims, as the poor and needy, whether it be financially every time interest rates go up, or emotionally every time we are overlooked or our ego are bruised. But the reality is that most of us are far more rich than poor, more those with full bellies than hungry mouths, more those who benefit from the status quo than those who suffer from it. For all our gripes, even for those of us with left-wing sympathies, we’re more likely to be the ones up against the wall being shot than amongst those storming the palace.

He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
   he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
   but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
   but has sent the rich away empty.                   - Luke 1.51-53

I suspect we ought to be terrified. Will we be scattered? Brought down? Sent away empty? These are real possibilities if we are proud in our inmost thoughts, if we act as if we own the place, if we seek security in work of our hands. Are we secretly, or not secretly, full of ourselves? Am I too full to have room for others? Am I amongst the first, the top, the best, the most important, the most influential? Is this where I seek to live? Is this how I think of myself? Is it from the popular, the powerful, the attractive that I seek attention? Whose approval do I crave? Whose life do I envy? I suspect we ought to be terrified.
Series: I; II; III; IV; V; VI; VII.