Christianity has always been a religion about salvation, but, if one studies its history, early Christians were concerned about other things than soteriology. Sure, soteriology was important; Christians recognized they were sinners, and they needed grace. But their interest was more in the way they integrated themselves into the work of God than it was about questions of justification. Because of all kinds of abuses at the time, it is understandable why many in the time of the reformation, Catholic and Protestant alike, focused on the question of justification. However, it is quite clear that this has caused Christianity to be excessively focused on salvation, and ignoring the expectation God has for those who are Christian. It even changed the way people look at salvation. Exclusivism makes sense after the debates over justification; early Christians, on the other hand, never looked at the faith in such terms. They understood the Christian faith as being one of grace, and that it helped transform the Christian into the person God wanted them to be, but they didn’t use this to think that everyone else was damned (St Augustine, sadly, helped begin the diversion away from this view, and it is without surprise, he is the source for many of the debates over justification). If we look at the foundations of Christian thought, we can trace a line of thought from St Paul to St Justin Martyr (and others like him), and see how they suggested people were already following the Logos, that they were, in a way, Christian. Rahner’s anonymous Christian makes a lot of sense if one studies the way early Christians looked to non-Christians. They were not threatening non-Christians with hellfire; rather, they were showing how the natural inclinations of the human heart and the intuitions of human reason directly led one to the Christian faith and integration into the Logos.
Nonetheless, there is a problem. Christianity can’t be anonymous. Being a Christian brings real expectations with it. This, of course, also got lost in the arguments over justification. There is more to the Christian life than being justified, being saved. The Christian life is about being a martyr for Christ. Martyrdom can come in many forms. Certainly some will find their lives taken from them by public authorities, and this is what most people think about when they think of martyrdom. But this is not all there is. Indeed, it is only an extraordinary form of martyrdom. We are all called to give up our lives for the sake of Christ. We are called to live for Christ, not for ourselves. We are called to live a life of love. This is not easy and indeed, for most of us, it is a struggle which we have to deal with daily. And it is quite clear, we fail often; when we do so, the response is just to get back up (with grace) and try, try again.
When we focus on upon ourselves, on our own wants and needs, we have failed to be a Christian. This is why a consumerism is destructive to Christianity, because it leads Christians away from martyrdom, directing them to give in to their desires and passions instead of fighting against them for the kingdom of God. Ascetics provide to us one example of how to deal with the passions, but, just as we will not have our lives taken away from us by public authorities, not all of us are expected to take on the extraordinary monastic vocation. Monks and nuns take on one aspect of martyrdom and follow it through; their experiences give them wisdom, and it is that wisdom, once it is realized, properly distinguishes their life and gives it credibility. It’s not meant to be held on for themselves, but to be shared by all. Yet, this should not be seen as indication that their way of life is necessarily holier than those who are not ascetics. Rather, it is different. Those who don’t take on the ascetic mantle have a different kind of martyrdom to follow, and gain a different kind of wisdom, indeed, one which is also to be shared by all. St Anthony of Egypt learned this when he found out about a doctor in Alexandria who was his spiritual equal.
For those of us engaged with the world, and not on ascetic retreat, our martyrdom, our witness for Christ, must always be the witness of love. It must be affirmative. It must be incarnational. It must follow the dictates of the Gospel. It must be pro-life. It must be pro-poor. More importantly, it must also be detached. That is, our action must still be selfless; we must give up the individualized ego seeking to master and control everything, attaching itself to everything around it like a spider-web. Instead, we must learn how to experience selfless giving, and detached living; to experience the joy and beauty of the moment, while being able to let it, and everything contained in it, go, so as to have their own life in Christ instead of trying to make it have a life in us. We give to it, we help it, but we do so without regard to ourselves. We are to be transparent witnesses of Christ’s love, unconcerned whether or not we are noticed for what we do. True humility doesn’t seek rewards for one’s deeds, but it also doesn’t seek to reject them, either; it is unmoved by either reaction. Once we can die to the self so as to attain such humility, then, we have lived our life as Christ would have us. We will find such a selfless witness is a joy—we can recognize this is true, even before we fully attain it, but until we have become true martyrs for Christ, the process of purification which leads to such selflessness will bring pain and suffering, the pain and suffering of detachment. And that’s what purgatory is all about.
Christians should focus on such a change here and now; it’s easier now; the longer we wait, the more attached to the world and to the things of the world, the more we don’t want things to change, the more we don’t want to let go, the worse it will be for us, and the harder our purgatory will be for us. We are all called to be martyrs. Today is a good day to die to the self.
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