“What profit is there in my blood? in my I going down to the Pit?
Does the dust praise you?
Does the dust proclaim your faithfulness?” Psalm 30:9 my translation.
The Problem:
We all know the funeral incantation: ashes to ashes; dust to dust. We all know it and we’re all wise to remember these words. We’re wise to remember these words because they remind us of a very fundamental and crucial fact: men are mortal. Not some men. Not most men. Not, unlike what teenagers believe but don’t realize they believe, other men. All men. All men are mortal.
This is of course, not a very profound pronouncement. Nor is it a theme that’s been ignored by poets throughout the ages. However, throughout history poets and storytellers have given us heroes who had a life beyond to look towards. Those who attempted and achieved great deeds here on earth were to be rewarded in the afterlife by having some continuation of life in closer proximity to the gods (at least in many of the religions, pertaining to warriors). Great warriors in Nordic religion would be gathered to Valhalla to fight with Odin against the forces of chaos (Fenrir) in the battle of Ragnarök. Greek warriors, too could hope to go to Elysium, where the honored dead went (though, the Greco-Roman afterlife is a bit tricky to disentangle). Other religions had other views, but it is safe to say that all Premodern cultures believed in some kind of afterlife where there was some kind of distinction in the quality of that afterlife based upon the kind of life one lived here. Even the reincarnative belief systems cause the soul’s transmigration (to use the Platonic term) to be dependent upon the quality of life, thus progression is possible – even if depressingly slow.
This is not to say that there was no fear of death: of course there was. And this does not mean that all Premodern people approached death with confidence: I would reckon few did. And it does not mean that those left to mourn did not take it hard: the catacomb inscriptions in Rome and the existence of funereal bloodsports show that people lived in dread fear of death.
But when we consider the literature, at least the heroic literature, it seems that premodern poets had some optimism that the afterlife will be better (at least for a while) for those who live good lives. Note that good may have nothing to do with moral goodness, but that’s another story.
Contrast that with modern adaptations of classical stories. Troy, the Brad Pitt blockbuster presents Achilles as a mid-life crisis narcissist and Helen as a neurotic depressive. What strikes one in the film is the fundamentally Modernist worldviews and lifestyles that key characters possess. Achilles sums it up when he tells Briseis, who is not a war-wife thrall, because Achilles is so modern and all about women’s-lib, that the “gods are jealous of us”. Achilles’ take is that the fact that we die gives meaning to our lives and our actions that cannot exist for the gods.
Tolkien, despite his Catholicism and his otherwise Premodern views, also portrays the immortal elves as fundamentally tragic and sad creatures. However, it is worth asking if this is a Modernist impulse creeping into LOTR or whether Tolkien is being preeminently premodern by reasserting the Genesis 3 principle that sin corrupts and ruins everything. Thus perhaps Tolkien is not saying that death brings meaning, but that to experience eternal life in a fallen world would be a horror.
The Magicians book series, by Lev Grossman, incidentally one of my favorite pieces of literature and about which I hope to write at some length, presents the afterlife as a sad youth lock-in. People eternally exist in a vast, fluorescent lighted, gymnasium, with ping-pong tables, and foosball, and all kinds of distractions, but it is a terrifying fate because it goes on and on for eternity. Grossman has it that some play games for a while and enjoy it, some have sex like rabbits, some engage in violence, but in the end everyone just sits down staring at the wall waiting for eternity to end.
The Good Place, similarly, presents an afterlife like Grossman’s where life after death eventually becomes a bad thing to be escaped and not a good to be enjoyed.
The lack of consequence, or consequentiality for our actions makes them fundamentally meaningless. Modernism and even Postmodernism rebel against the dogmatic assertion of Premodern religions that eternal joy is possible. To the Modern and Postmodern, the only thing that can bring meaning is conclusion – because nothing can have eternal meaning. While this statement seems to be logically fallacious, it is still powerful.
Because we live in a world where meaning is necessarily encapsulated in time and conclusions, we envision time-horizons as being, ultimately, the only, or at least the only sufficient, cause for meaning. Let me put that another way: because we live and move and have our being in a world where everything that is meaningful has an end, we think that having an end is what gives things meaning.
But that logic doesn’t follow. It doesn’t follow because it admits our finitude and limited knowledge and experience about eternal things and then imposes temporal conditions on eternal realities! This is a fundamental logical error. Let me offer an analogy, and then we’ll move to the Christian response.
This erroneous logic can be likened to a dog who is trying to think about humans. Dogs are non-verbal, but they do have means of communication and they can respond to verbal communication: they recognize and respond to certain commands; they know their names; they recognize tone; et cetera. Now, imagine a wolf in Alaska. This wolf who has never met a human or experienced verbal communication, but the wolf has seen humans moving about and making noises to themselves and has smelt their food and seen their campfires and their heavy equipment and all that. So the wolf knows about humans, but has never met one or experienced verbal communication, that’s the important part. Now, let’s say that this wolf is trying to imagine what it would be like to be a human. Now, in all his imagining, do you think he would suppose that he would have the power of speech? Or would he continue to think that all communication would be done with basic howls and snarls and whimpers and body movements and pheromones. Clearly the wolf would not believe in verbal communication. Why wouldn’t the wolf believe in verbal communication? Because all communication in wolf-world is non-verbal. He has no concept of or capacity to imagine verbal communication. He’s bound, conditionally, to non-verbality. But would the wolf be right in his supposings? No, of course not. Just because the wolf is limited by his experiences do not make his experiences normative. He’s limited by his experience; his experience does not limit the outside world – and it’s fallacious to argue otherwise.
In the same way just because we cannot understand meaning apart from conclusions does not mean that meaning is bound by conclusions, only that the conditions of mortality preclude us from experiencing eternal meaning. It is a necessary reality. Finite and time bound creatures CANNOT have direct experiential knowledge of eternal meaning.
This means that believing or not believing in eternal meaning is an act of faith. The believer in Christ and eternal truth, and purpose, and meaning, and eternal joy through communion with the Godhead does so by faith. The unbeliever also believes that meaning only exists in this life by an act of faith.
The Solution:
I began with the words of David. He asks if the dust praises God. The answer is obviously “no.” And therein lies the answer, I believe, to the problem of eternal meaning…or at least part of the answer. Eternal meaning cannot come from actions done with only temporal consequence and directed towards temporal ends. You cannot pack temporal actions with eternal meaning, any more than you can fill a sock with a blue whale. The magnitude of temporal actions is always temporal, but direction can be eternal. You can give your actions eternal meaning by directing them towards an eternal person and so give them eternal meaning.
Modernists and Postmodernists in their postmortem on meaning are right to conclude that even an infinite number of iterated actions cannot give any of the actions themselves eternal meaning. All you can gain is an infinite series of small magnitude actions. But what you need is to increase the magnitude of meaning in each action, because an infinite number of infinitely small actions will leave you with actions that are, in themselves, essentially meaningless. Or so they believe, not recognizing that meaning can be found not through eternal magnitude but eternal direction.
A foundation in Calculus and Philosophy helps here but isn’t necessary. It’s the old Zeno’s Paradox. Achilles can never catch the tortoise because all of his movements are really infinitely small and discrete movements that are infinitely many. And since it’s impossible to have infinitely many movements in a finite amount of time motion is impossible – or so concludes the paradox. Calculus describes this problem but doesn’t really solve it. But here’s the thing. We know motion is possible (at least those who believe in the general trustworthiness of their sense and reality do). We know Achilles catches the tortoise. We also know that when you reduce the magnitude of an action so that it approaches zero, it practically becomes zero.
OK, enough PhilosoMath. Here’s the point. An action with a finite magnitude of meaning will never give eternally satisfying meaning – even if you have infinitely many of them.
So, what we need is that which the Modernist and Postmodernist cannot account for: objectively, eternally-meaningful acts. And this comes, through having your action directed towards an eternal Person. And I believe that David gives us an example of this. David sees praising God as being eternally meaningful. Why? Because it is an act directed towards an eternal and eternally meaningful Person.
Worship is an act that is eternally meaningful because it is directed towards an eternal Person. Jesus, by the way, tells us to store up treasures in Heaven where moth and rust do not destroy, where thieves do not break in and steal. While this may not be good exegesis, I believe it’s good theology to suggest that Heaven is a place where our ennui and angst will not allow ourselves to rob ourselves of joy. In heaven the banishment of thieves and thievery includes our own neuroticism. No depressive hunt for meaning will corrode the eternal treasures and pleasures of meaning, because in Heaven every tear is wiped away.
And not only do we worship God. But we become one with Him. We enjoy the blessings of being a member of the Trinity and we live in and by that joy. And that inter-personal love and purpose gives eternal meaning to our actions and thoughts and words and hopes and loves.
Heaven has eternal meaning because in Heaven we achieve the telos (long-range purpose) for which we were created: to be one with God, without the destruction of our individual personalities. We become one as God is One.
This is a mysterium tremendum. But it is one which gives meaning. And not only will we direct our loves to God the infinite and eternal, but we will direct love to others who themselves have achieved immortality and exist in eternal communion with God: thus, our actions towards redeemed woman and men will be laden with eternal meaning.