Reading from the Bible (Paul’s Letters) & Augustine: The “Foolishness of God” and the Infliction of Pain

Protestant martyr, Cuthbert Simpson,
wracked by Queen Mary's Catholics in 1557

On this Sunday in Fiji, my mind turns to the relationship between Christian truths and the infliction of pain, for they have strolled hand-in-hand like lovers through history. They link their fingers neither in secret nor by accident.  In fact, theirs is a marriage celebrated in heaven, rooted in the very nature of the "foolishness of God."  The authority of the Church to determine and protect orthodox belief has always consisted of the power to make the faithful suffer in body and in soul.


The "foolishness of God" is the bedrock of religious faith; and the "wisdom of the world" stands in its way. The distinction is by no means modern -- it is a favorite metaphor of St. Paul, used while propagating his Christ. And it is a good one, for it captures the difference between religious truth and the quotidian beliefs we need to navigate through life. In every aspect of our lives, it is the "wisdom of the world" that really matters -- whether we’re shepherds in ancient Palestine or bank tellers in Manhattan, we are encouraged and required to think critically, assessing our experiences and evaluating the reports of others. In every aspect of life, that is, except religion, where foolishness brings us to the front of the class. "The message of the cross is foolishness," writes Paul (1 Corinthians 1:18). And who am I to argue? Consider Jesus’ response to Thomas, who had the audacity to check whether the fellow claiming to be the resurrected Christ bore the requisite nail marks on his hands: "You believe because you have seen me. Blessed are those who haven’t seen me and believe anyway." (John 20:29) In Christianity, the ability to believe the most outrageous truths on the basis of no evidence whatsoever is treated as a virtue. Elsewhere Jesus taught his disciples:

Let the children come to me … For the Kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I assure you, anyone who doesn’t have their kind of faith will never get into the Kingdom of God. (Mark 10:13-15)

What distinguishes religious beliefs from all others is that they depend entirely on preserving the innocent gullibility of children who believe everything they’re told. This is the same kind of belief that has children placing cookies and milk near chimneys on Christmas Eve, and slipping baby teeth under their pillows; unless disabused of such folly by their parents or their own good sense, this same kind of belief will have them as adults eating bread and drinking wine fully convinced that they are consuming the flesh and blood of Jesus. And that they will, therefore, live forever. Without childlike credulity, the sacred withers.

When Paul teaches the "Good News" it sounds like simple foolishness, for here is how he backs it up:

I solemnly assure you that the Good News of salvation which I preach is not based on mere human reasoning or logic. For my message came by a direct revelation from Jesus Christ himself. No one else taught me. … When all this happened to me, I did not rush out to consult with anyone else; nor did I go up to Jerusalem to consult with those who were apostles before I was. No, I went away into Arabia and later returned to the city of Damascus. It was not until three years later that I finally went to Jerusalem for a visit with Peter. … You must believe what I’m saying, for I declare before God that I am not lying. (Galatians 1:11-20)

Before we continue, it is worth pointing out that this account of Paul’s revelation and his early travels is at odds with the story as recounted in Acts – I dare say, the narratives contradict each other. I have no problem with such contradictions, since I don’t expect unerring consistency from the Bible. So I’ll defer to Biblical scholars who for compelling reasons have determined that Acts was written much later than Paul’s Letters, probably by the same fellow who wrote Luke, who, for the purposes of easing the tensions between Pauline Christians and those in Jerusalem, also took certain liberties with Paul’s message. In any event, if we want to hear the tale of Paul’s conversion in words that are the closest to his own, Galatians is the place to turn. Getting back to the "Good News," however, and down to brass tacks: what we have here is a guy who suggests that what he says probably won’t make sense, for it is not based on human reasoning or logic; who claims he had a revelation (Paul never met the historical Jesus); who says that he was influenced by no one else (Paul takes pains to distance himself from the other apostles); and tells us that we must believe him because he’s not lying.

Paul's revelation on the road to Damascus,
illuminated manuscript, ca. 1430
(Such experiences are rare indeed.)

Now, folks nowadays who virtually admit they’re mad, yet claim to have heard God’s voice (which is as good an indicator of madness as any, and better than most), and who proclaim the most outlandish things, and who say that they must be believed because they’re not lying – such strangers will occasionally find a few pathetic souls that will follow them to Utah or drink the Kool-Aid. But for the most part, they don’t enjoy a lot of credibility. Judging by how frequently Paul was chased by mobs, not a lot of people believed him either. Still, there were a few folks who hung upon his every word. (One gets the impression that they weren’t always the sharpest knives in the drawer – "Remember, dear brothers and sisters," Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 2:26, "…that few of you were wise in the world’s eyes.") But, even so, the problem with people who will believe the most counter-realistic prattle on the basis of nothing more than a convincing smile, a pat on the back, and a rabbit pulled out of a hat, is that, more likely than not, they will find the next convincing smile that comes along with a fantastic tale to tell and a trick up his sleeve equally compelling. Indeed, on what basis can they distinguish the truths of one magician from the truths of the other?

This, in fact, becomes Paul’s biggest problem; and it is the reason we have a New Testament at all. Apart from the Gospels, most of the New Testament consists of letters intended to rescue Paul’s mutton from the maws of wolves who are leading his gullible flock astray. In 2 Corinthians these wolves are “false apostles” who are “disguising themselves as apostles of Christ”; in Galatians they are “so-called Christians – false ones, really”; in 2 Thessalonians it is the “evil man” who comes “to do the work of Satan with counterfeit power and signs and miracles”; in Philippians they are “dogs, those wicked men … those mutilators who say you must be circumcised.” My favorite example comes from 2 Corinthians 11: 4, where Paul writes:

You seem to believe whatever anyone tells you, even if they preach about a different Jesus … a different Spirit … or a different Gospel. (2 Corinthians 11: 4)

I imagine Paul in a fury, pulling his beard out at the roots, and I want to take him aside and say: so they believe whatever anyone tells them – what did you really expect?!

It is worth noting that Paul’s enemies are usually not outright pagans but explicitly or implicitly those who teach a version of Christianity different from his own – in the New Testament, much still depends on the foreskin of the penis: does God want it intact or does he require its removal? My heart goes out to those poor sods who, without the basis of any rational criteria (the model leaves no room for critical evaluation), need to decide which competing revelations they’re supposed to believe. Worse yet, the good guys and the bad guys can both perform miracles, so it’s impossible to tell them apart. It is like a high-stakes game show: everything hinges on whether you pick door number one, door number two, or door number three.

So, how do you shore up religious beliefs that by their very nature are "beyond human reasoning and logic?" Well, since discussion and argument are out of the question, one claims special authority, oozes charisma, and has an especially loud voice. Some might also argue: with miracles. But miracles are, in fact, a concession to the ‘wisdom of the world’ (though not a very good one). And, in any event, there are far too many miracles taking place and visions being had by prophets of all persuasions for such supernatural displays to be the touchstone of truth. Luckily, however, those concerned with preserving their foolish orthodoxy can always threaten pain.

Jesus himself found the threat of pain a useful tool. Christians like to emphasize the difference between the angry God of the Old Testament and the Prince of Peace we read about in the New Testament. But Jesus is far being all light and sunshine. He introduces Judeo-Christianity to that eternal fire where teeth gnash and eyes weep. Hell, of which there is only the merest whisper in the Old Testament, is one of Jesus’ favorite tunes, and he riffs on it like Thelonious Monk. The examples are so plentiful that one struggles to choose. For sheer drama, I enjoy Jesus’ promise to separate the sheep from the goats.  To the sheep -- because they have cared for the hungry, homeless, naked, and sick -- Jesus says: "you are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world."  But to the goats -- who failed to display the same philanthropic largesse -- he says: "Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels." (Matthew 25: 34-46)

There is indeed a major difference between Jehovah and Jesus. The former bestows blessings and, far more frequently, wreaks destruction in this world. The latter, apart from the ability to perform a few localized miracles – turning water into wine, walking on water, healing the blind (one wonders about the license taken by his biographers) – is virtually powerless; so, in contrast to Jehovah, he promises to distribute blessings and wreak destruction in the world beyond. It goes without saying, of course, that Jesus was really God made flesh, but it is striking that his emphasis on the afterlife is precisely the kind of thing one would expect from a vainglorious impotent lunatic. That is, if one were guided by the "wisdom of the world."

Naturally, what works for Jesus also works for Paul; he threatens pain well and often. He promises pain for the false apostles: "[Satan’s] servants" who are "pretending to be godly ministers" will "get every bit of punishment their wickedness deserves." (2 Corinthians 11: 13-15) And he promises pain for the recalcitrant: "We will punish those who remained disobedient after the rest of you became loyal and obedient." (2 Corinthians 10: 6)  And he promises pain to those who do not believe because God has allowed them to be deceived: "So God will send a great deception upon them, and they will believe all these lies. Then they will be condemned for not believing the truth and for enjoying the evil they do." (2 Thessalonians 2: 11-12) And, finally, he promises that when Jesus returns, there will be pain forever:

He will come with his mighty angels, in flaming fire, bringing judgment on those who don’t know God and on those who refuse to obey the Good News of the our Lord Jesus. They will be punished with everlasting destruction … (2 Thessalonians 1: 7-9)

In such manner are laid the foundations of a powerful religious orthodoxy.

Like Jesus, Paul was not in a position to distribute much pain himself. Christians did not yet grip the levers of earthly power, so they were still limited to promising pain rather than delivering it. Indeed, for a while, Christians were themselves subject to persecution by the Romans (though modern Christians make of more of that persecution than they should). But when Christians finally attained such power (Christianity became the state religion of the Roman Empire in 380), they quickly identified the value of persecution for returning those of wayward beliefs to the bosom of the ‘loving Mother.’

It was St. Augustine (354-430), that most eminent of Church Fathers who shaped so much of Western Christianity, who set persecution solidly on its scriptural feet, setting the stage for the sweet persuasions of the Inquisition.  In his treatise Concerning the Correction of the Donatists he wrote:

[If] the power which the Church has received by divine appointment … through the religious character and the faith of kings, be the instrument by which those who are found in the highways and hedges — that is, in heresies and schisms — are compelled to come in, then let them not find fault with being compelled, but consider whether they be so compelled.

The question for Augustine was not whether the Church should "compel" using the power of the state (indeed, it should, according to Augustine) but whether those being compelled would actually allow themselves to succumb.

Augustine refuting a heretic,
13th century illuminated manuscript

Justifying his actions against the Donatists (whose heresy lay in being even more strict and unforgiving than the Catholic Church), Augustine distinguished between "unrighteous persecution," which is directed towards the Church; and "righteous persecution."The Church," he said, "persecutes in the spirit of love … that she may correct … that she may recall from error …. [She] persecutes her enemies and arrests them until they become weary in the vain opinions, so that they should make advance in the truth." Righteous persecution, Augustine insisted, under imperial laws shows "a great mercy" because:

[the wayward ] are in the first instance rescued against their will from that sect in which, through the teaching of lying devils, they learned those evil doctrines, so that afterwards they might be made whole in the Catholic Church, becoming accustomed to the good teaching.

Augustine makes it clear: pain works.

… [Many] have found advantage (as we have proved and are daily proving by actual experiment), in being first compelled by fear or pain, so that they might afterwards be influenced by teaching….

Thus Augustine established the basic principles by which the Church would shepherd the faithful and preserve the "foolishness of God" for the next 1500 years.