| Part 1 The Theory of Faith | Hirohumi Hoshika |
Let us examine the fact that the doctrine of the Cross — thought to have been initiated by Paul — constitutes the principle of faith establishment; that is, a Christianity proposition.
The doctrine of the Cross is not merely a heavenly doctrine to be believed — such as "After His ascension, Jesus sat at the right hand of God" — but rather the principle of faith establishment through which people come to faith. Therefore, just as with the Resurrection proposition, it must be distinguished from other doctrines. To make this point clear, I would like to discuss this doctrine in detail below.
The following passage from the Epistle to the Romans provides a comprehensive account of the doctrine of the cross.
"But now apart from the law the righteousness of God has been made known, to which the Law and the Prophets testify. This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe. There is no difference between Jew and Gentile, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus." (Rom. 3:21-24)
As can be inferred from the fact that Luther had to rediscover this "Gospel" in the 16th century, it is no simple matter to identify the doctrine of "Jesus's cross as a death of redemption" as a principle of faith establishment. This is because the doctrine states something different from the understanding of sin we typically hold.
The apostle's resurrection proposition, "God judged Jesus to be righteous," confirmed the disciples' belief that Jesus was righteous while he was alive. Therefore, the discovery of the resurrection proposition need only be a rediscovery of a doctrine that reinforces what the disciples already knew. In this case, the doctrine of the resurrection as a principle of faith establishment can be said to be a proposition of the "restoration of known truth" type. The faith one had once lost upon the death of Jesus is regained with the realization that "my understanding was correct after all."
In contrast, understanding the doctrine of the cross in the Epistle to the Romans, as cited above, presents a greater challenge than understanding the resurrection proposition. If we regard this doctrine — just as we do the resurrection proposition — as one that first affirms the correctness of our understanding of sin and our conception of salvation, then ratifies and guarantees that understanding, and finally serves to reawaken that understanding within us, then we have not understood Christianity at all.
In the resurrection proposition, the apostle's current understanding is the basis, and their "beliefs about Jesus" are approved, but in the cross proposition, the "ideas about sin and salvation" that we normally have are not approved. In other words, here, Christianity is not found as an extension of one's own beliefs, as "this is what I was looking for," but is found with the shock of "my understanding was wrong."
The doctrine of Jesus' death on the cross includes the assertion that God's salvation should not be judged based on our current understanding. This is because this doctrine adopts God’s standpoint from the outset, defining us humans as beings mired in sin and, consequently, incapable of a proper understanding of God.
According to this doctrine, we, as fallen beings, cannot rightly inquire into God and His salvation even by employing our best reasoning; consequently, any attempt to fathom these matters through our own thought or experience leads only to misunderstanding. Instead, an understanding of sin and salvation must be bestowed upon us entirely from without — meaning that we can only truly know God and sin through "revelation". For this reason, "revelation" — at least at the time it is first made known — appears to us to lack any basis or corroboration.
At this point, it is fair to say that the claims of "revelation" and our own existing understanding stand on equal footing. Consequently, we could, at this stage, confront the divine doctrine and reject it.
However, this "revelation" — the Bible — presented to us without prior justification seeks to relativize human ideas; it is also an argument that you might well make your proud decision only after first listening to God's case. Since "revelation" is intended to teach us what we do not know, it inherently implies that our gaining this knowledge could lead to a change in our thinking.
In scientific theories since the 20th century, we too have been "making provisional assumptions and then testing their implications through observation", so "giving revelation a hearing, for the time being" is by no means an irrational act. Therefore, if we are to listen to what God has to say, it would be something like this.
In Romans chapter 3, Paul refers to what we think of as righteousness as "righteousness by the law". This refers to righteousness attained by observing Jewish law, beginning with the Ten Commandments given to Moses. In fact, it is certainly fair to say that the practice of adhering to established rules or diligently carrying out actions one deems right is common not only to Judaism but to all religions and moral philosophies.
However, such a morality has several flaws. The idea that adhering to rules constitutes righteousness fosters a passive tendency—prioritizing the avoidance of evil over the active pursuit of good. Furthermore, because this perspective evaluates the resulting action rather than the state of mind that caused it, it easily fosters superficial morality, hypocrisy, and a way of life that parades one's religious devotion. In response to these tendencies, Jesus offered the "Golden Rule" (Mt. 7:12) to address the passivity of morality, and a commandment concerning the inner heart (Mt. 5:28) to address superficial morality.
However, it was not this sort of low level of moral consciousness, which is said to have been characteristic of Judaism in the time of Jesus, that the doctrine of the Cross took issue with. From a practical standpoint, these issues have been a concern in every era, and when we look at many of the religions prevalent today, it could be said that — while this requires a significant concession, of course — quite a few of them share an ethical standard comparable to that of Jesus' "Sermon on the Mount" in terms of their "teachings".
In that case, the problem lies in the difficulty of putting the doctrine into practice, whereas there is considered to be a correct understanding of what ought to be practiced. "It is easier to say than to do" or "Easy to say, easy to do, but extremely difficult to have the right mental attitude when doing it" is their problem consciousness, and in modern religions — including Judaism — as well as in the general ethical outlook held by people today, it is taken for granted that one can correctly articulate what is right and what constitutes human righteousness.
However, it is precisely in this regard that the doctrine of the Cross poses a challenge and that Christianity is distinguished from other religions and ethical systems. The problem, this doctrine tells us, is not that we cannot practice what is right or cannot maintain the right mindset when practicing, but that we have a wrong understanding about "what is right thing?"
In other words, the doctrine of the Cross rejects the notion that salvation or righteousness is obtained as a reward for good deeds, that sin is forgiven through one's own acts of atonement, or that there exists a religious path to being recognized as righteous. The teaching that Jesus Christ — who had no connection to us — was crucified to resolve our sins declares, quite simply, that our sins cannot be atoned for.
In the previous passage, Paul states that, in place of righteousness based on the Law, "but now the righteousness of God has been manifested ... the righteousness of God through faith in Jesus Christ" (Rom. 3:21-22 RSV). This "righteousness of God through faith" is the salvation of God revealed to us.
However, if that is the case, then in terms of the way God justifies us — declaring us righteous — it is not impossible to see "righteousness by the law" and "righteousness by faith" as identical. The former works hard to observe the law, and the latter works hard to believe in Jesus — aren't these the same religiosity? Isn't the latter also a type of "religious path to being justified"?
"Being justified not by works but by faith" is something that has been repeatedly proclaimed in the church; yet, what does it actually mean for faith in Jesus Christ to be reckoned as our righteousness? Does that mean it is simply encouraging the creation of Christians zealous for Jesus, in place of Jews zealous for the Law?
The statement "justified by faith" is not incorrect in itself; it is precisely what Paul states in Galatians 2:16. However, this doctrine cannot be understood as long as "righteousness of faith" is perceived merely as a New Testament version or a faith version of the Old Testament concept of "righteousness of works". In that case, as the question above suggests, faith and works would ultimately be one and the same; faith would also become a kind of work, and there would be little difference between being zealous in faith and being zealous in keeping the law.
What, then, does the doctrine of the Cross signify? Several parables from the Gospels convey its true meaning. The "Parable of the Royal Wedding Banquet" in Matthew 22 expresses the unique nature of this doctrine.
――The king prepared a wedding banquet for the prince, but none of those who had been invited would come. So, the king ordered, "go into the highways, and as many as you find, invite to the wedding." The banquet hall was filled with both the righteous and the wicked, but there was one person among them who was not wearing the required formal attire, and that person was excluded from the banquet. ――
Here, "wearing the formal attire" is a metaphor for believing in Jesus, but it sounds like a crude analogy suggesting that anyone — regardless of whether they are good or evil — can take part in the king’s banquet as long as they believe in Jesus.
However, this parable means that the garments we prepare for ourselves — that is, our faith and deeds — are not acceptable before God, no matter how admirable they may be. With this in mind, the interpretation of the parable is as follows.
――God decided to invite anyone and everyone to the banquet — scoundrels, hypocrites, the immoral, the impure of heart... God no longer examines our inner selves. For if our inner selves were truly examined, God knows that not a single one of us would be worthy of the invitation. So God prepared a formal robe to cover our hearts. Anyone who wears this robe may enter God’s banquet. Those who wear it are deemed pure, regardless of their true nature. Without any merit on our part, we are declared righteous solely by God’s sovereign will, and God sets that person apart as "holy". Such is the "righteousness of faith" that is granted to us. ――
However, when you think about it that way, it begins to seem as if God is only looking at the outward appearance of human beings. The Old Testament says, "man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart" (1Sam. 16:7). Does this mean that God looks at our outward appearance?
The answer is both yes and no. One who wears formal robe is thereby acknowledging that he is unworthy to stand before God. God looks only at that point. One who wears the formal robe prepared by God becomes one who has acknowledged that he cannot stand before God except by clothing himself in Jesus Christ.
Let me also cite the “Parable of the Unjust Judge” from Luke 18.This parable teaches that while an unjust judge will only listen after being constantly pestered, if even such a judge will eventually grant the request, then the righteous God will certainly not fail to render judgment. However, based on the doctrine of the cross mentioned earlier, I believe that God, too, is like an unjust judge.
We are sensitive to injustice. Of course, this is true when evil is done, but we also dislike it when good is done unjustly.
In Japan, there is an amnesty system, and criminals' sentences are sometimes reduced or waived depending on some turning point related to the emperor. I feel uncomfortable every time a pardon is issued. However, recalling the earlier parable, I also think the following.
――If God were a just judge who judged us fairly, there would be no salvation for me. Isn't it clearly an unjust judgment to say that we are forgiven because Christ was crucified in our place? Yet, there would be no hope of salvation for me unless it came by such an unjust verdict. ――
The teaching that “we are forgiven through Jesus Christ” means giving up our demand for a just judgment against ourselves, and it humbles our pride. The realization that we are beings who can be saved only through an unjust pardon — much like a royal pardon — compels us to rethink our innate notions about sin and what we can do about it.
This "Cross proposition" — that "sin cannot be atoned for, and we have no choice but to be forgiven without merit" — is not a matter of whether we can directly verify the truth of the proposition itself.
Just as with assumptions in scientific theory or contemporary hermeneutics, what matters here is whether accepting this premise leads to an understanding — specifically regarding the self and sin, as well as God and salvation — that is more accurate than before. For more details, we will see in the Part 2 the "Theory of Faith and Reason", this is because, in modes of thought — such as those found in religion — that employ the logic of affirming the consequent, the assessment of a hypothesis's correctness depends on the effectiveness of the entire system to which it belongs.
The Cross proposition leads us to an understanding of sin and salvation that goes beyond the ideas we were born with or naturally acquired as we grew up. And the understanding that Christianity offers is —"unfortunately"— more accurate than our own ideas, and through it, we are led to repentance.
The form of this "Cross proposition" entails having one's eyes opened to previously unknown truths through encountering ideas that differ from one's existing understanding; in contrast to the "restoration of known truth" type found in the "Resurrection proposition", this principle of faith establishment can be termed the "awakening to unknown truth" type.
When a new perspective is offered on something thought to be known, leading to the rejection of old ideas, the proposition that served as the catalyst is accepted as a new truth. This is the form of the "Cross proposition".
In this type of Christianity proposition, a conviction arises that one’s understanding has been correctly deepened through new insight, and this conviction serves as a force that shapes faith. Old ways of thinking are cast aside, and a transition to new ways of thinking takes place alongside faith. This brings to mind the following words of Paul: "old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new" (2Cor. 5:17 NKJV).
Although the "judicial" interpretation of the doctrine of justification by the cross, as described above, is merely one of many historical theories of justification,
Certain Christian doctrines are not merely things to be believed; they possess the power to generate faith. In this treatise, I have referred to such a doctrine as a "Christianity proposition". The faith acquired through this Christianity proposition is accompanied by "conviction," owing to the process of its formation discussed above. For this reason, it can be said that Christianity propositions transform the "superfluous" interpretations of religious phenomena — as discussed in the preceding "Consideration" section — into "necessary".
It is this conviction of faith, born of this inevitability, that marks the dividing line between the Gospel era and the Acts era for Jesus’ disciples. I would also like to conclude here that this is at least one aspect of what has been understood as the "universality" of the Christian faith.
Furthermore, the conviction derived from these interpretations of the Resurrection and the Cross is, in certain respects, free from the kind of reliance on scholarship — contingent upon the feasibility of establishing historical facts of Jesus — that often characterizes faith. This is what gives the Christian faith, which stems from a particular historical event of the Cross and is thus inherently fact-dependent, a different attribute of universality.
Now, apostolic faith begins at the moment one accepts the Christianity propositions concerning the Resurrection or the Cross.
To view the resurrection of Jesus as "God raising Jesus because of His approval" is already an act of faith, as it incorporates the Old Testament concept of God. Acknowledging that "there is no recourse but to have our sins forgiven" is also an act of faith, as it presupposes God's involvement in the resolution of sin. Thus, to begin with, it can be said that accepting the doctrinal interpretation of the events of the Resurrection and the Cross marks the beginning of apostolic faith.
However, as we saw earlier, Peter's faith did not end with accepting the resurrection interpretation that "God raised Jesus". Acceptance of the resurrection proposition restores his former faith in Jesus while he was alive, and it leads him to preach.
In short, the entire process by which apostolic faith is established begins with the acceptance of the interpretation of the Resurrection and finds its completion in the effects and actions that this interpretation brings about. Apostolic faith must be understood not as something that begins and ends with the acceptance of doctrine, but as something that reaches fulfillment through the impact it has upon us — such as the recovery of truths already known and the awakening to truths previously unknown.
If the acceptance of a certain doctrine brings about no change in believers, that doctrine merely serves to unnecessarily expand the scope of what they believe and does not renew them. Christian faith differs in this respect from a type of faith that regards the essence of devotion as accepting various heavenly doctrines—even those that may be difficult—as true and persisting in obedience to them.
When Christianity propositions are accompanied by cognitive processes, this faith imbues individuals with a certain thoughtfulness—and at times, an exemplary mindset regarding thought. It may well be that this effect accounts for Christianity’s role as a driving force behind so much artistic and cultural achievement.
There is a theory that Japan was spared harsh measures during the post-World War II settlement because it was not a Christian nation. Germany — a "mature nation" well-versed in Christianity — was subjected to the harsh measure of national partition, whereas Japan was treated leniently as a country whose people were deemed immature. Indeed, when I encounter the beliefs and culture that Japanese people — who have reached adulthood without ever being exposed to Christian values — consider to be good, I often feel that this country is still an immature nation.
The Japanese writer Ango Sakaguchi is said to have remarked on post-war Japan under American rule: "The US occupation policies appeared largely correct, and Japan underwent the strange experience of finding happiness through being occupied." Japan, which had been unfamiliar with the concept of democracy, first came to know it only after it was introduced from outside the country. This is very similar to how we ourselves first come to a true understanding of "salvation" — not from within ourselves, but through the Bible.
So far, we have examined two Christianity propositions — the Resurrection proposition and the Cross proposition — but are there no other doctrines — that is, "Christianity propositions" — that have the power to inspire faith? I would like to list a few of my reflections below. However, according to Kant, a principle has been established, the task of picking out the relevant phenomena one by one and subsuming them under it is "rather an amusement than labour."