cheap graces

[gurdonark]

I always loved that part of the theologian Bonhoeffer's Cost of Discipleship in which he talks about "cheap grace". Cheap grace is that little bit of salvation one confers upon oneself, to be distinguished from the true grace that, in Bonhoeffer's view, arises from the strict Christian life.

Bonhoeffer's early work was a bit stern, but the metaphor is fascinating. Although in pastor Bonhoeffer's view, "cheap grace" is a temporizing insufficiency, essentially an evil, I've found the notion very comforting to me over the years. Let's take today, for example. Working on a Friday merely because it happens to be the Friday which could have been part of a four day weekend is not a particularly saintly thing to do. I certainly could have realigned my work so that I could have taken the four day weekend. But somehow, I feel saved, just a little bit, because I am in my office pounding away. I mean, true saints pound away on July 5. Well, actually, this moment I am pounding away at a LiveJournal post, but you get the idea.

Over time, I've also been "saved in small ways" by putting spare change at the dollar store in the literacy fund jar, by providing pet treats to my dogs at unexpected moments, and by being able to use google to figure out that I did see a dickcissel bird yesterday at the prairie. I am not sure which circle of heaven this qualifies me for, but I hope that it comes with nice porthole windows. Heaven is a Carnival cruise, you know, and a berth away from the pounding disco from which you can see the fog-wrapped island is grace enough, cheap though it might be. It's not that I don't recognize the point that "ultimate meaning" may be more than patting oneself on the back for pointless things. No matter what one's theology--or lack thereof--there's something appealing about that pauline concept that some inner core of faith, rather than punching the moral clock, is what ultimately saves us. I love the idea of losing oneself to save one's soul. But today, and perhaps more than today, I will type away in a world in which the path to Heaven types on Corel Wordperfect software, hikes on pristine grass meadows, and in a burst of rare non-bashfulness, says a kind word to a stranger.

It's a rather roundabout way to Heaven, but some days cheap graces are my most effective defense against small and large Hells.

Comments

[mouchette.livejournal.com]

Funny you should talk about grace. If I may be permitted to be a bit of a Dr. for a moment ... it's just that it came up as quite a big issue in my thesis.

I don't know Bonhoeffer at all. But I was really fascinated by a small text by Heinrich von Kleist written in 1805 called 'On the Marionette Theatre.' It's an odd text, seemingly quite slight, but actually incredibly dense when one starts thinking about it. Basically it's centred around an actor / dancer in dialogue with a friend. The a / d is describing the 'grace' of the marionette puppets and he concludes that 'grace occurs most brilliantly and decisively in that human form that either has no consciousness or an infinite consciousness. That is, in the puppet or the god.' I don't know now exactly why, or rather I do know why, but it's too close at the moment and far too long to go into, but this statement haunted me for much of my thesis writing period. It suggested so many things I was trying to work out like autonomy / freedom vs. submission / fate vs. embodiment / disembodiment.

Grace is, I think, the moment when one is so 'empty' that one can be filled instead by a divine or at least cosmic will. Animated, as it were. Like a puppet. I find this both incredibly sexy and also incredibly sad.

[mouchette.livejournal.com]

And then again ... the filling force might be more earthbound, i.e. submission to one's boss!

You really should have taken the long weekend.

Let the devil in!

I keep my soul until I say "I am content!"

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

LOL.

I was very taken with your comment, especially the part about grace and puppets, everything and nothing. CS Lewis wrote a beautiful novel called Till We Have Faces. The title plays off the line (I can't remember whose)--"how can we look in the face of the gods, until we have faces?". I will have to look up the source you cite, as the whole everything/nothing concept appeals to me. Thanks very much for sharing this idea with me.

Re: I keep my soul until I say "I am content!"

[mouchette.livejournal.com]

And I'll look for the C.S. Lewis novel. So thank you too.

Re: I keep my soul until I say "I am content!"

[gurdonark.livejournal.com]

I just read a translation of the piece about grace and puppets. Fascinating stuff. The closing sentence, that grace would require another taste of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, thereby marking the end of the world, is one of those symbols whose very elusiveness captures my imagination. The bio of the author also seems so stark and vivid. I've almost a chill, pondering.