“What must I do to be saved?”
We see this question from the Philippian Jailer in Acts 16:30. The question itself arose from Greek culture. It became a figure of speech, so the actual meaning varies with the context. It was intentionally ambiguous in the sense that it was seeking whatever divine rescue was available, asking what were the terms. The jailer was hardly unaware of the plethora of Eastern religions represented across the Mediterranean in those days. He knew that people connected to Judaism were also part of that broad collection of Eastern mystical religions. Since he saw the power of something beyond human ken and these men were confident and at peace, he wanted some of whatever it was that set them free but kept them from escaping and getting him in trouble.
In Western culture, the question has taken on a rather precise theological meaning that builds on a false foundation. Bear with me a moment while I try once again to untangle this.
Ancient Near Eastern thought presumes a Spirit Realm separate from this realm of existence. Western thought presumes this universe is it, in the sense that there could be no other kind of universe. In other words, Western thought negates any kind of Spirit Realm a priori. This assumption is not discussed in the existing ancient literature (so far as I know) that teaches Greek philosophy. They didn’t bother to argue against it for the most part. Thus, it is a part of the package of assumptions about reality on which the rest of their stuff stands. When this Hellenized approach collided with the already weakened moral reasoning of the rabbinical schools of Hebrew religion (they had already been influenced by Babylon and Persia during the Exile), they were overwhelmed by the sheer intellectual thrill of analytical reasoning. The mind was back on the throne, and it loves to rule. But it bore the poisoned root of rejecting the Spirit Realm.
Judaism is the result of this collision. It is not the Hebrew religion of ancient times. Mixing Hellenism with Hebrew traditions results in legalism. The mystical was trashed in favor of nit-picking over particulars. What to do with the Spirit Realm? It became by default a spooky place rather like the myths of River Styx and the place of the dead. And how many times have you read discussions of sheol that equate it wrongly with the Greek mythology? Instead of the mystical Hebrew approach, God and Heaven became something akin to Plato’s realm of the Ideal, an entirely cerebral construct. It was all objectified.
Now, we are naturally unable to explain a mystical truth, but in the Hebrew mind, there is a sense in which the Spirit Realm has continuity with our realm of existence here. The Spirit Realm is ultimate reality, as it were, while our existence is the Realm of Shadows. We are forced to use parabolic language, but we do know that your manner of life here reflects something about your eternal destiny with God. Insofar as you are damned here, you are damned eternally. Even then, I’m using a figure of speech. What the Hellenized approach does is break that continuity and substitutes a false conceptual continuity that yields to reason.
So we see all kinds of a prior assumptions that attempt to force God into the boundaries of reason. Common Western (Protestant-Catholic) conceptions of Heaven are persistently Platonic in nature. Theologians can hardly break out of that track without a lot of study in what it means to be Western and what Western thought looks like from the perspective of non-Western intellectual traditions.
But this a priori assumption that equates God with Plato’s Ideal means all Western theology is infected with the notion that God has to make sense. Thus, we have a duty to reason about God and create Theology. We have to explore all the possible particulars by analysis and explain everything. And so we have a theology of how people are “saved” — soteriology. And we have this rational delineation of logical steps that ends up making God the creator of evil. Most Western theologians deny this because it breaks some of the other rules of logic, but the paradox is inevitable if you approach God from a rational foundation.
I can tell you how I backed out of that hellhole; that’s what some of my books are about. Maybe some of it will echo your own situation and I can help you escape. The Hebrew word most often translated as “saved” is rooted in the idea of escaping something.
The fundamental concept of moral human sorrow in the Hebrew Scripture is “separation.” You are separated from God. We were meant to be fit for His Presence, but somehow humanity got off on the wrong foot. So we start out alienated from Him. The mystical truth of how that problem is solved was never meant to be reduced to descriptive language. There are no steps to salvation that everyone can follow. All any of us can do is demonstrate what it’s like to live in peace with God. We allow Him to work things His way from His end and hope that means you find a path to peace. We don’t pretend to tell folks “how” to be saved, only to demonstrate what it looks like. We already know that there is no “how.” If you are going to get it at all, it has to come from something unique to you and God. Nobody has a clue what-when-why-how He decides to offer terms of peace, only that He does.
So the answer the Apostles gave to the Philippian Jailer was symbolic, not a precise HOWTO. He would have understood it that way soon enough, if not already. Despite his being bathed directly in Hellenist culture, the historical context included a lot of stuff we no longer have around.
And do you know how hard Western theologians struggle over that business of “you and your household”? When you objectify “salvation,” you are forced into cerebral gymnastics. How can one man’s decision affect the eternal salvation of his family members? Ditch the objectification of salvation and the whole thing takes on a different meaning. Since the man clearly worried about his moral standing, the Apostles presumed he was primed to take the heart-led moral path to God’s character. If he takes that path, it must include his entire household over which he holds moral dominion. That word “salvation” means walking in a heart-led moral truth, not some objectified status change in the Ideal. If someone begins instituting the changes inherent in heart-led moral commitment, who on earth could suggest that man is not at peace with God? So we are back to that mystical continuity I mentioned earlier.
That’s how we are saved.
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This was a good read. I’ve had the thought that systematic theology is bound to fail. Why formulate systems for an object (person) that intrinsically transcends systems?
I had a question about an idea you brought up: “…Western theology is infected with the notion that God has to make sense.”
My worry here is the following possibility: if we deny that God has to make sense, then do we have to choose that God does not make sense? If that’s the case, it seems that dangerous territory would ensue quite quickly. Is this an either / or, some of both, something else? Interested in your thoughts on that.
Hello, Azure. It’s not either/or. Sometimes God makes sense, but it need not always be so. The variability is inside of us. In such a short format as blog posts, it’s hard to cover every detailed implication. A little hyperbole is entirely consistent with Scripture; it’s a standard feature in Semitic languages.
I appreciate the response. The concept of the heart-led life has resonated with me, so I enjoy learning more about it.