This chapter will focus on the way people develop as a result of their capacity for self-transcendence. It will also lay the groundwork for a view of salvation that sees it as a process of maturation.

I would like to make two disclaimers before I begin.

The model I will outline will represent nothing more than a general overview. For instance, this chapter will not deal with differences between men and women. Nor will it consider genetic, socio-biological, psychological, sociological, cultural or political factors that make each life unique. I also need to indicate that the model that will be outlined will be incomplete. I have chosen to deal with our fallibility and proneness to error in the next chapter.

Redemption or Creation?

Let me begin by arguing that Christian theology is usually built around one of two foci, creation or redemption. Churches influenced by Reformation insights have generally followed the latter path.

Redemption

However, there are problems associated with an over-emphasis on redemption. My concern is with pre-suppositions and broad assumptions.

The major pre-supposition causing concern is the notion that the human race was created perfect, enjoying an immediate, blissful apprehension of God, without distraction or deflection. This description does not fit the evidence.

Contrary to the genuinely held convictions of folkways Fundamentalism, the narrative of Genesis 2 and 3 was not intended to be interpreted literally. It was constructed towards the close of what Wilber calls the Mythic Membership era,¹ where mythology, giving shape to symbolic understandings generated in the unconscious, reflected truths that would later be expressed philosophically.² However, particularly during the Mythic-Membership era, people lived these mythological worldviews uncritically.³

One reason for suggesting that the Genesis narratives developed late in the mythological era is the fact that, while they furnish us with a powerful mythological evocation of the fundamentals of human existence, they do not possess the spontaneity of the great mythologies of an earlier period, but reflect an element of self-conscious contrivance.⁴

Even if one assumes that the Genesis narrative is literal history, the record does not state that Adam and Eve lived, before the fall, in a state of [58] perfection and bliss. It was the apostle Paul who developed this notion, in the interest of contrasting patterns of existence, which he saw stemming from Adam and Christ. Several centuries later, Augustine elaborated the thesis of an original perfection, exaggerating both the perfection Adam and Eve were said to have forfeited and the depths to which they plummeted.⁵

Certain assumptions, connected with the view that redemption has priority over creation as the central focus of Christian theology, also cause concern.

Luther's extreme scrupulosity, his fear of a vengeful deity and his almost pathological guilt, made it inevitable that he would focus on forgiveness and justification. This concentration had the unintentional result of developing, among future generations of scholars indebted to Luther, an almost myopic concentration on redemption.

This was unfortunate, because it excluded other important factors from consideration and overlooked the fact that Paul, upon whom Luther drew for inspiration, in describing the Christian's contact with God, used relational analogies more frequently than sacrificial or juridical ones.

The debate between Fundamentalists and Liberals, in the second decade of this century, exaggerated this tendency. Fundamentalists, finding themselves on the defensive, further stressed the centrality of redemption in the divine drama.

The concentrated focus on redemption, in Reformation theology, reflected a masculine preference for thinking in terms of principles rather than relationships. It is interesting that feminine mystics, like Julian of Norwich and Teresa of Avila, saw God's dealings with people in a relational context.⁶

Theories of Atonement

If this over-emphasis on redemption is problematic, so too are theories of the atonement based on it.

In many of the classical theories of the atonement, the fall appears to have taken God by surprise, which suggests that he was neither all-knowing nor all-powerful.

The idea of a magical formula, concocted before the creation of humankind by a prescient Trinity, that enabled God to forgive us, is also problematic. It reflects a masculine, juridical bias and suggests that God was unwilling to forgive, or was incapable of forgiving, apart from the death of Jesus. It also leaves us feeling that God relates to us in a detached way. Furthermore, it also implies that, in creating beings who would be unable to exist without damaging themselves or society, God either fumbled the creation or else was incapable of creating life without damaging what he created. What is even more unacceptable is the notion that the species would be held accountable for imperfections that were implicit in the creative process, imperfections for [59] which God was ultimately responsible. The Calvinistic doctrine of double predestination, the predestination of some to heaven and others to hell, further caricatures this complex of understandings.

An additional difficulty arises when the notion that God was surprised by the fall and the idea that our salvation is dependent on a magical formula are placed side by side. God could hardly be surprised by an eventuality he needed to accommodate before he created us.

Issue can also be taken with particular theories of the atonement that suggest a price must be paid before God will forgive and accept us.

The idea of God needing to ransom us, in the sense of paying a ransom to the devil, or of tricking him by offering Christ's flesh as bait, is dualistic and argues that the devil is more powerful than God.

The sacrificial analogy helped Jewish-Christians in the first century appreciate the costliness of Christ's death. It is not so helpful to us, however, because it suggests that God stands in need of appeasement. It is an idea that was associated with the blood sacrifices of the Mythic-Membership period and is no longer part of our interpretive framework.

The idea that God required satisfaction, which was suggested by Anselm, was based on the assumption that every creature owes God perfect obedience. When we are not perfectly submissive to his will, God is put out of his honour and demands satisfaction. Because we are not in a position to offer satisfaction, Jesus, the sinless Son of God, offers himself, in perfect obedience, on our behalf.⁷ The satisfaction theory has no biblical basis. It derives from a Medieval concept of chivalry, where offering satisfaction to a dishonoured superior restored the health and peace of feudal society.⁸ While Anselm's theory may have been meaningful to his contemporaries, its view of God is rudimentary, to say the least.

Because human parents do not demand satisfaction before children are forgiven, it appears strange that a God, who asks us to forgive each other without vengeance and without limit,⁹ should act the opposite way towards us. It almost suggests that there is a division in God, with that part that demands vengeance split off from that part that is loving and forgiving. What is even less acceptable, is the implication that God protected his justice by a monstrous act of injustice. As one victim of abuse suggested, if God had Christ die to satisfy his honour then Jesus' death was the ultimate in child-abuse.

The idea that Jesus substituted for us, accepting punishment for our wrongdoing, is a forensic notion that can be traced back to the Reformation, when God was seen as king, lawgiver and judge. This theory assumes that God is an isolated authority figure concerned more with his "honour" than with us. A further difficulty with this theory is that the notion that one [60] person can substitute for another is morally and psychologically perverse and conjures up a God who deals with us in a mechanistic manner.

Each of these four theories, focusing on ransom, sacrifice, satisfaction and substitution, imply that God cannot, or will not, forgive, until reparation is made equal both to the offence and dignity of the injured. However, a moment's reflection would indicate that, if we dealt this way with our children, we could be charged with abuse. Our problem is that we have not treated metaphor as metaphor, as an illusive, figurative expression. We have treated what was metaphorical as literal, pushing metaphor to the point of absurdity.

Another reason we come to grief over this issue is that we misconceive the nature of the righteousness of God. We have interpreted it negatively, antiseptically and with reference to individuals. We have imagined that God's righteousness lies in the fact that he does not allow himself to be contaminated by sin, or evil. This idea, propagated by the Pharisees, was contradicted by the life and teaching of Jesus.

In both the Hebrew Bible and the Christian Scriptures God's righteousness is interpreted positively as a social, salvific phenomenon. It was seen as the practical outworking of his love. God's righteousness was revealed in attention given to the wounded, in the establishment of peace and justice and in the building up of community.

Unfortunately, many people, because of the way they were disciplined as children, are psychologically susceptible to the notion of a punitive God who demands appeasement. This is the way they have experienced parents, or other primary care-givers. Not only have they learned that love is conditional, they have also discovered that there is no absolute guarantee that acceptable behaviour will secure affirmation.

People, whose parents have not loved them enough to enable them to love and accept themselves, lack self-worth. They discount affirmation because they don't think they deserve it. Furthermore, they imagine God feels about them the way they feel about themselves. They read in his face a projection of their self doubts, their self-recriminations and their self-depreciation. When this profile is reinforced by a theology that suggests that God regards us as vermin, it is little wonder that they succumb to a doctrine of the atonement that argues that God is remote and vindictive.

One fact, often overlooked by those whose primary theological focus is on redemption, and particularly by those who espouse theories of the atonement that accept its predominant metaphors as literal, is that, if God made us, he is ultimately responsible for us.

Theological worldviews, focussing primarily on redemption, are inadequate. Redemption is one phase in a wider movement. When the parameters of the [61] broader drama are overlooked, the Christian worldview is distorted. To avoid this distortion we need to begin, not with redemption, but with creation.

Creation

Early in my career as a parish minister I remember preaching a series of addresses on 1 Peter. My attention was caught by a phrase in 1 Peter 1: 20, which argued that Christ was predestined before the foundation of the world. This got me thinking. It implied that God knew we would misuse our freedom before he created us. Therefore, he created us knowing we would fumble the ball. This, in turn, implies that such failure was deliberately included in a more comprehensive plan.

To determine what was happening we will assume that God sat down to work out a plan for humanity, which obviously he had no need to do.

It appears that God's intention was to create people who could reciprocate his love, that is, people who would eventually find themselves caught up into the dynamic life of the Trinity, into a love that drew them deep into the heart of God and then sent them forth in mission.

To do this they needed to be given freedom, which, as we have argued, is more than a mere subjective choice between alternatives. It is saying yes or no to God, yes or no to intuitions of grace that encourage us to flow with certain options rather than others. This sort of decision-making, while subjective, needs to occur in an objective world.

Freedom, however, involved risk. Its misuse was inevitable. It was also necessary if we were to learn and grow.

Thus far, it has been suggested that, to love, we need to be able to make free decisions. Being free, we will make mistakes. It is through doubling back to rework our mistakes that we grow. Growth brings maturation, that is, wholeness and a capacity for self-giving.

Of course, our making of mistakes does not happen in a vacuum. We are born into circumstances that reflect the strengths and weaknesses of those who have preceded us.

In creating us, or, to put it another way, in inviting us to participate in self-creation, in a manner similar to that in which quantum mechanics suggests that we construct reality through our observation of it, it was necessary for God to provide what we needed to enable us to recover from our mistakes. He did this by helping us appreciate that we stood forgiven and by making his Spirit available to us to direct and energise our progress. [62]

Irenaeus

This view of salvation, as maturation, accords with Irenaeus' interpretation of Genesis 2 and 3. Unlike Augustine, who saw the story of Adam and Eve as the record of a fall from perfection, Irenaeus viewed it, as William Blake did, as a progression from innocence to experience, as a prototypal learning experience. Like small children, we learn to walk by venturing forth and by frequently falling over and bruising ourselves.

Opting for an Irenaean interpretation of the fall, however, does not mean that Augustine was altogether wrong. When understood mythologically, Augustine's doctrine of the fall highlights critical aspects of the human condition--that we are capable of godlike behaviour, that we are fallen, that we are often carried along by the undertow of destructive inner dispositions and the fact that we are constantly confronted by powerful positive and negative influences.

The Irenaean interpretation of the Hebrew myth of beginnings in Genesis 2 and 3 accords with the scientific record, with human experience, with what is implied in 1 Peter 1: 20 and with the view of the nature of Reality outlined in the previous three chapters. It is also consonant with the Eastern Orthodox interpretation of salvation as divinization and with Process Theology.

The Trinity

The potential for human maturation was the gift of Grace. That grace became uniquely incarnate in Christ. Contact with Christ, whom Tillich described as the Bearer of the New Being,¹⁰ gives privileged access to this grace. It is through this Christ-event, which includes what Christians describe as the gift of the Spirit, that we experience God as love, in an intensity not possible before Christ's advent.

The concept of the deity as Trinity is an attempt at interpreting this event. As a doctrine, it is insightful, yet ultimately inexplicable. The doctrine of the Trinity was developed to explain how God was experienced by the early Christians in three unique ways, as the focus of worship, as Jesus Christ, and, following Pentecost, as inner Enabler. As an attempt to make sense of this three-fold experience, the formulation of the doctrine of the Trinity was a natural and inevitable development. It should be recognized, however, that the concept is analogical. It is no less metaphorical than those metaphors that have been used to explain it.

At the expense of being considered Sabellian, I want to suggest that we should focus primarily on the unity, rather than on the threefoldness of God. Rahner, who shared the same preference, incorporated the threefoldness of God into a view of the oneness of God. He argued that, in-as-much-as God is experienced as an inner divinizing presence, we call him Holy Spirit. In-as-much-as he was present to us in Christ, we call him Logos, or Son, in an absolute sense. In-as-much-as he remains ineffable mystery, we call him Father.¹¹ [63]

It is helpful to return to the distinction David Bohm drew between the explicate and implicate orders, in which the implicate order of unity is enfolded in the explicate order of diversity. Both are part of the one reality and neither can be reduced to the other or conflated with the other. This is, in part, what the doctrine of the Trinity is suggesting. In the context of Bohm's paradigm, it could be said that God is experienced both in diversity and in unity, with the inner core of oneness, or non-duality, enfolded within phenomenological diversity.

Despite the suggestion of the ontological priority of the order of unity, it is important that the explicate order of diversity, or the societal nature of God, also be emphasised. As Campbell and McMahon argue, the Trinitarian viewpoint, which emphasises differentiation, allows for development and process. They also contend that these two polarities, differentiation, or individuality, and unity, or a developing interconnectedness, are evident in the maturation of individuals.¹²

Universalism

If God has established a maturational process, then, as the author of this process, she is responsible for casualties. God never gives up on anyone. This suggests that God continues to work with us beyond death, a suggestion that is supported by a passage in 1 Peter, where Christ, between his death and resurrection, is said to have preached the gospel to those who perished in the Noahic flood, that is, to those who were regarded as the most debased of sinners.¹³

This line of argument also implies some form of universalism. We should not be too squeamish about believing that one day God will eventually save us all, as this conviction seems to be developed in passages in Colossians and Ephesians, where it is said that God will bring the whole universe, all in heaven and on earth, into a unity in Christ.¹⁴

So far, it has been argued that, to appreciate what God is about, one should begin, not with redemption, but with creation. This wider view, which frames the Christ event in broader perspective, enables us to see that salvation is a process of maturation. It is now time to narrow the focus and concentrate on the process of maturation.

Recapitulation

I have argued, earlier, that spirit, or body/mind, has two principal functions, meaning-making and communication. I have also suggested that the probing of existential questions, which have to do with contingency, temporality, destiny and meaning, in the context of relationships, results in a progressive appropriation of our transcendentality. We become increasingly self aware, self-accepting, integrated and centred. We know that our reality, which is [64] being constituted moment by moment, shares an essential oneness with all reality, without dissolving into some sort of homogeneous cosmic porridge.

A Paradigm of Human Maturation

Human maturation involves self-fulfilment and self-denial. Tournier, in A Place for You, argued that the psychologists' doctrine of self-fulfilment, and the theologians doctrine of self denial, are not two separate and opposed gospels, but two phases of the one gospel.

On the basis of his medical practice, Tournier contended that some Christians suffer breakdowns in their mature years because when they were young they responded to a call to deny themselves before they had anything to deny. Leaving one's place before one has a place to leave is premature self denial, driven by the need to be accepted. The telltale sign, distinguishing premature self-denial from mature self-denial, is the presence of buried resentment.

Paradoxically, our capacity for mature self-denial is determined by the degree to which we are self-fulfilled. The more of ourselves we are in touch with, the more of ourselves we are able to give.¹⁵

Teilhard argued that the Church has rarely recognized human flourishing as an aspect of spiritual growth.¹⁶ In fact, the church has unwittingly aborted our natural flourishing, considering it to be selfish and sinful. It is little wonder that many Christians are arrested developmentally at the stage of infantile dependency.

Human Flourishing

Human flourishing involves the development of physical, intellectual, affective, moral, spiritual and creative capacities. It also includes the emergence of a sense of identity and a developing momentum towards individuation.

Self Emptying

Self-denial, or kenotic self-emptying, the second phase of the process of maturation, fosters self-control, gentleness, humility, an emptiness of self, a capacity for receiving and giving love, a willingness to flow with divine grace, an increasing freedom that expresses itself as commitment to others, discernment, intuitive wisdom and a capacity for powerlessness and vulnerability. It is also reflected in creativity, in the ability to live a day at a time, in an inner peacefulness and simplicity, in a spiritual and theological roundedness and in a heart hospitality that is free from judgementalism. [65]

Two Phases

We need to be a considerable way into the first phase of this developmental pathway before it is possible for us to enter upon the second. The first is the foundation of the second, without which the second becomes a parody of itself. But once we have begun to finger the experience of healthy self-denial, both phases influence each other and a rhythm is set up between the two.¹⁷

It doesn't always follow that people who set out to nurture the self, to discover themselves and explore their potential, necessarily progress to the second phase. With some people, myopic self-preoccupation is evidence that no substantial self-flourishing has really taken place. The pursuit of pleasure for pleasure's sake becomes self defeating. Some, who have focussed compulsively on self-development are like joggers who have ceased to run to maintain health and have instead become addicted to the rush of endorphins.

Ken Wilber's model of human maturation, which suggests a development from the undifferentiated oceanic consciousness of the maternal womb, through a gradual separation and individuation to a mature transpersonal, transcendental re-connection with the entire matrix of reality, is an alternative way of conceptualizing this two-phase development.¹⁸

The Transition

The transition between the first and second phases is neither sudden, nor once and for all. The first steps are tentative. There does come a time, however, when, for some people, there is a shift in overall balance between self-fulfilment and self-denial. For the rare few, there is a final confrontation with one's fragmented reality, when the first movement, like the wheels of a plane that has just taken off, are taken up into the second movement.¹⁹

This progressive shift of focus occurs through a removal of the boundaries, spoken of by Wilber, between ego and shadow, between self and body and between body/self and the wider environment, which includes an experience of the universal Self, or God.²⁰

Whether one conceives of this maturational model in terms of stage transitions, or as an unfolding narrative, development can be seen to involve a continuing series of deaths and resurrections, experiences of metamorphosis in which old ways of conceptualizing and living reality are relinquished, in a surrender that awaits the grace of resurrection. These are vulnerable moments, when we must flow with the grace that carries us forward, without knowing what we will encounter when we emerge from the chrysalis.

Nurturing Ourselves on God

To grow, to progress through this two-stage maturational process, we need to nurture ourselves on God. There are a number of ways we can do this. [66]

Nature

We can open ourselves to the world of nature, intuitively, contemplatively, with a passive attentiveness. When we do this, we sometimes feel a connectedness with this world. Our perception, or experience, of the natural world, has been described by Eckhart as a participation in God's knowing and feeling.²¹

The Presence that we discern in trees, in rocks, in the sea, in the desert, and in plants and animals, encourages us to believe that we enjoy an affective, sibling relationship with these elements. Nature also gives metaphorical shape to this Presence, speaking to us in parables. It also exerts upon us a peer pressure to simply be. If, as Merton suggests, a tree gives glory to God by being a tree, where its inscape is its sanctity,²² this peer pressure is irresistibly eloquent.

The Inner Journey

We can also source ourselves in God by venturing on an inner journey of self discovery. The Desert Fathers of the 4th century took the opposite route. They sought God in the solitude of the Egyptian desert and were confronted by themselves.

We are grounded, at the deepest level, by the God whose presence holds the whole universe in existence. It is little surprising, therefore, that, as we explore our inner geography, we encounter the God who is its Ground. This view is confirmed by Julian of Norwich, who argues that when we discover our true self, we, in the same experience, experience our Lord God.²³ The author of The Cloud of Unknowing, reinforced this insight when he urged readers to strive to understand themselves, to experience themselves, as this would, at the same time, evoke a knowledge of and experience of God.²⁴ The comment of Gregory Baum, which has a more modern ring, highlights this same intuition. He contended that to pray is to be in touch with oneself in a new way. Because God is redemptively present in our coming to be, prayer is a way, not only of encountering God, but also of coming to possess oneself.²⁵

There are two reasons for this phenomenon. First, the more we encounter our real selves, particularly that part of us that we generally keep hidden, the more we find ourselves in touch with the God who suffuses our being. Second, the more of ourselves we are in touch with, the more integrated the different part of the self are, the more of us there will be that will be able to be consciously involved in the communication.

The more we are in touch with ourselves, the more we are able to be in soul contact with others. In fact, we can only be in contact with others to the degree that we are in contact with ourselves. God is one of these others. [67]

Others

It is also possible to discern the presence of God in in-depth encounters with others, when we become engrossed in the discussion of ultimate issues, issues of meaning and existence. God can also be experienced in our identification with another's pain, when we take it on board as if it was our own, when our feelings caress the inner membrane of another's soul. When this happens, and we experience ourselves as enveloped by a Presence, we know that we are standing on holy ground.²⁶

Ethical Decision-Making

Making decisions, particularly moral decisions, and carrying them through, is another way of fleetingly experiencing the presence of God. When we are faced with significant decisions, such as how we respond to insult or how to seek direction for our lives, we experience the scarcely perceptible movement of immanent, transcendental grace and find that we have the inclination and the energy to do what we considered was beyond our capacity.

Suffering

We also experience God in our suffering, when the facade is stripped away and we are faced with both our real selves and our mortality. Similarly, when we reach out to others in their suffering, when we cradle their broken bodies, when we listen without judgement, when we stand with them against injustice, our hands, in reaching to caress their brokenness, glancingly contact Presence.

Incarnation

We also encounter God in those individuals, or communities, that conspicuously incarnate this Presence.

Christ and the Church

Christians encounter God in Jesus Christ, in their worship, in the reading and preaching of the Word, in the sacraments, and through involvement in Christian mission and service to the community.

The Flow

In each of these ways of being in touch with reality, God is experienced in the process of reflecting or acting. This deep level of engagement, of discovering God in the flow of our lives, is what David Bohm called the holomovement,²⁷ the movement between the explicate order of diversity and the implicate order of unity. It is not before, or after, or in some sort of static state, but in the movement, the flow, that God is known. [68]

Love

What we encounter, when we encounter God, is healing love. God is love. It is her quintessential essence.

It is lack of love, and therefore lack of self worth, lack of a sense of place, lack of security, lack of meaning, lack of an inability to give of oneself to others, and, therefore, lack of any positive basis for relating, that triggers behaviour that is destructive of oneself, others and society. On the other hand, it is love, and our appropriating of love, that brings healing.

Maturation is dependent on love in at least two ways, first, as the sun that opens our petals, and, second, as the ointment that heals our wounds. It is little wonder that God is concerned to enable us to recognize her presence and experience her love. There are a number of the ways in which this love is made available to us.

The Environment Embracing Us

It is present, in germ, as a given of our existence, in the ground of our transcendentality and our freedom.²⁸ This love, like God, its author and source, is experienced in the movement of its reception and expression. As Rahner argued, love cannot be performed or negotiated. It is always on the way to itself.²⁹ When one is in the process of receiving love, of trustingly surrendering oneself to its inner intimations, this surrender becomes the means of a different way of being and relating. It is thus that the seed of love and of our being grows to full flower.³⁰

Sebastian Moore has argued that God, in structuring human existence in families, has provided a foundation for experiencing his love.

While we are in the womb, and in the months following birth, we are little more than an extension of our mothers. Because we claim so much of their attention, when they lovingly attend to us, we gain a deep sense of connection and feel loved and lovable.

However, as we grow, other responsibilities distract our mother's attention and we begin to separate from her. As a consequence, the sense of being loved and lovable diminishes. Eventually, we question the earlier feeling we had that we were both loved and lovable.

For a young boy, in the Oedipal phase, in which he finds himself in competition with his father for his mothers love, and where, as a consequence, he begins to identify with his father, this experience is particularly acute. The consequence of the Oedipal transition, and other maturational hurdles, is that the young child's feeling of being unloved and unlovable deepens and is reinforced by the wider society that has begun to engross his attention.³¹ [69]

The model of family, on which this scenario is built, is obviously ideal. Every family is different. Some are dysfunctional and destructive, particularly where the isolated nuclear family is the norm.

Anna Maria Rizzuto's Birth of the Living God supports Moore's thesis. Rizzuto, a Freudian psychoanalyst, working from an object relations perspective, argues that the image we have of God is based on parental images. She contends that this experience is universal. Children of professed atheists surreptitiously nurse these images, as a child will play with toys that she has secretly hidden under the bedclothes.³²

Love can also be experienced in relationships with others, particularly where the other person is in touch with themselves and with the God within themselves, such that their lives effectively incarnate the divine energy, in both affectivity and action.

Jesus Christ

Christians want to assert that the most powerful incarnation of this love was experienced in the Christ event, that is, in Jesus of Nazareth and in "descent of the Spirit."

Jesus spoke about God's love, he exuded its affective fragrance and he lived its stubborn realism. It was, however, in his death, his living the consequence of his message that his love was most clearly evident.

Christ's death was significant from a number of perspective's. It was an example of how we are to live. It was a transformative revelation of God's love and compassion. It was a triumph over forms of evil that were its frustration and its denial. It opened us to the numinous. Furthermore, Christ, in his life narrative, which included his death, recapitulated the history of human experience, heading it in a new direction.

To live out a solidarity with us was enormously costly. Jesus died as a consequence of the way that he lived. He died because his preferential option for the poor and marginalized threatened privilege and power. His death was also a consequence of his confronting people with themselves. It was only thus that they could be healed. The costliness of this exercise was captured in the metaphors of sacrifice and ransom.

If Sallie McFague is correct in contending that God's effecting of our salvation through Christ was not an aberration, but a cosmic evolutionary constant,³³ then I would want to argue that this salvation came into acute focus in the death of Jesus and the subsequent coming of the Spirit.

The maturity God is developing within us is reflected in an enhanced capacity for receiving and giving love, which is communicated to us in justification and sanctification.³⁴ It is personal acts of love that give meaning and direction to everything else.³⁵ This capacity for loving results from our [70] being caught up into the energy of love that constitutes the diversity and sociality of the deity, or, in traditional terms, the love that is reflected in the dynamic life of the Trinity.

Death and the Afterlife

In dealing with human maturation we cannot avoid facing the question of death and the afterlife.

The need to face death can precipitate reactions that run the gamut from fear to elation. Some experience a terror that mocks their attempts at achieving immortality. Others, at the opposite end of the spectrum, anticipate that their experience of a unitive love discerned in the communicative movement of a Go-Between-God³⁶ will be replicated in the different world they will enter when they die. Reflecting the latter conviction, Rahner, a matter of days before he died, confessed that he was buoyed by the conviction that God had promised himself to him as his future, in spite of the persisting temptation to doubt this conviction.³⁷

While speculation over human survival dominates discussion of the hereafter, the question of the future of the cosmic drama is of equal importance. The Christian conviction is that this drama will culminate in God's drawing all of Reality, the healed, re-integrated realm of diversity, back into herself, into the unitive dynamism of the implicate order, in which it finally experiences its telos, its consummation. As Rahner argues, it could be contended that God is, himself, this consummation and the energy, or principle that effects it.³⁸ Furthermore, he contends, God has not been concerned solely with our planet, but is also the goal of peoples and histories, of alternative exercises in freedom and love, in other parts of the universe. The consummation he effects is cosmic in an ultimate sense.³⁹ [71]

[FOB 58-71]