"Between father and son, husband and wife, the individual and the nation, stands Christ the mediator, whether they are able to recognize him or not. We cannot establish direct contact outside ourselves except through him, through his word, and through following him... There is no way from one person to another. However loving or sympathetic we try to be, however sound our psychology, however frank and open our behavior, we cannot penetrate the incognito of another man, for there are no direct relationships, not even between soul to soul." - The Cost of Discipleship
What does it mean to mediate? To stand between? To fill the gap?
I have of good friend (the greatest of friends more like) who works in human resources for a health region in BC. She is a consultant, and as part of her job she mediates between the various unions of this health district and management. Many of these mediations are no doubt heated, filled with politics, hurt feelings, bruised egos and legitimate complaints. I, as a conflict avoiding mennonite girl, am in complete awe at the scope and difficulty of such work. As one who stands in the middle, she willingly puts herself - her feelings - in harms way, in order to bridge the gap between.
When it comes to my own understanding of Christ and his role as mediator, "standing between" has conjured up some interesting, albeit negative, imagery. I can imagine Jesus protectively standing in between me and a vengeful God, ready to smite me for my sin. That is what comes to mind, though now at least, a better understanding of the Trinity prevents me from imagining that Jesus and God are at odds with each other. God is not so divided, but he bridges the distance and the difference between the Three within himself, and he crosses the distance to me. Like my friend in human resources, God puts himself in between so that both sides will know each other and understand each other, so that a relationship can be established. Without her, the relationship is unruly, the sides too different and too far away.
Bonhoeffer writes that when one is called by Christ, it is in that moment that one becomes an individual - or at least becomes aware of it. We become aware of the vast canyons that separate us; that our relations to the world, to people, to even our family members are built on illusions and it is only Christ that makes true relationship possible. This reminds me very much of David Bentley Hart's writing on difference and distance. We are "other" than God and "other" as individuals, and it is only through the crossing of this distance - only by the mediation of Christ - that relationship, communication, or love can happen. To say "God is love", is to say that it is only he who crosses these distances. Our relationships pass through him, and in doing so they are made new.
"But the same Mediator who makes us individuals is also the founder of a new fellowship. He stands in the center between my neighbor and myself. He divides, but he also unites. Thus although the direct way to our neighbor is barred, we now find the new and only real way to him - the way which passes through the mediator."
This idea certainly makes a little sense when one takes a look at some of the most challenging passages in the Bible (I'm thinking particularly of the Abraham and Isaac story, and of Jesus' words in Luke 14:26). Why would God ask me to forsake my family for him? Why would he ask Abraham to sacrifice his cherished son? I don't claim to fully understand it, but I think Bonhoeffer is really on to something, and I think that it's also an idea that's mirrored in the narrative of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection... Abraham's hope was fully upon his son Isaac - the son of promise - everything rested on him. Isaac carried with him all the hopes and promises for Abraham's future, his descendants, and the future nation of Israel. When God asked for the sacrifice, he stepped in between; he said, "I gave you this child, and it is only through me that these promises will be fulfilled. It is only through me that you will truly love him, and he you." And then he gave back Abraham the child of promise, and in doing so Isaac became even more of a gift of grace - infinitely more special and more full of hope than ever before. But the burden of hope was not Abraham's responsibility to carry, it was God's.
In the same way Jesus carried all the hope of his disciples, their hope for freedom from oppression, their hope in the Messiah. And then he was taken away; their relationship was cut short, there was nothing the disciples could to to bridge that barrier and the story was essentially over. But then he was given back. In doing so it was made know that they could not, on their own strength, bring the freedom and salvation they longed for and imagined in only a political form. But the hope and the promise as so much bigger than they ever could see on their own, until Christ put himself in the middle to mediate.
What Bonhoeffer writes is that this happens for every person who is called to be a disciple. We are asked to give up everything. Every relationship is broken - whether we saw it before or not. And when Christ steps in to mediate, my relationships; between me and my neighbor, between me and creation, between me and God; are made real, redeemed, and new.
Labels: books, faith, relationship, The Cost of Discipleship
