“I Will Come to You”

“I Will Come to You” June 30, 2023

 

Friberg on 3 Nephi
“Jesus Christ Appears to the Nephites”
(Arnold Friberg, LDS.org)

 

Astoundingly, two new articles went up today on the website of the Interpreter Foundation:

““I Will Come to You”: An Investigation of Early Christian Beliefs about Post-Ascension Visitations of the Risen Jesus,” written by Timothy Gervais

Abstract: While later Creedal Christians have come to view “the Ascension” recorded in the first chapter of Acts as a conclusive corporeal appearance of the Resurrected Lord, earliest Christians do not appear to have conceived of this appearance as “final” in any temporal or experiential sense. A careful investigation of canonical resurrection literature displays a widespread Christian belief in continued and varied interaction with the risen Lord relatively late into the movements’ development. Stringent readings of Luke’s account of the Ascension in Acts suggesting that Christ will not return until his second coming fail to consider the theological rhetoric with which Luke conveys the resurrection traditions he relied on in composing his account. Analysis of Luke’s narrative displays that his presentation of these traditions is shaped in a way to stress the primacy of the apostolic Easter experiences in establishing the apostles as authoritative “witnesses” in the early church over and against possible competing authoritative claims stemming from purported experiences with the risen Lord.

“Interpreting Interpreter: Post-Ascension Visitations,” written by Kyler Rasmussen

This post is a summary of the article ““I Will Come to You”: An Investigation of Early Christian Beliefs about Post-Ascension Visitations of the Risen Jesus” by Timothy Gervais in Volume 57 of Interpreter: A Journal of Latter-day Saint Faith and Scholarship. An introduction to the Interpreting Interpreter series is available at https://interpreterfoundation.org/interpreting-interpreter-on-abstracting-thought/.

The Takeaway: Gervais argues that biblical accounts of visitations by the resurrected Christ show that early Christians believed that such visits could continue after the Ascension, with these accounts reflecting the rhetorical emphasis of their specific authors.

 

Ummm. Cheese!
Two men working at a metal bin of yellow cheese that is being processed at Welfare Square, a facility owned and operated in Salt Lake City, Utah, by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  (LDS Media Library)

 

For as long as I can remember, people who disagree with my fairly libertarian economic views have told me how much more they care about the poor than I do.  Non-religious people have assured me that, while I’m focused on some sort of illusory “pie in the sky when I die” and on “saving” others from mythical sufferings in a fairy-tale afterlife, they are devoted to making life in this world, on this planet, tangibly better for everybody.

In my particular case, the critics may be right.  They may be far better people than I am in every regard, including charity, kindness, and concern for their fellow humans.  However, the publication of Arthur C. Brooks’s Who Really Cares: The Surprising Truth about Compassionate Conservatism (New York: Basic Books, 2006) made it much, much harder for left-leaning secularists to preen themselves, as a class, on their superior compassion without supplying actual evidence to demonstrate it.

Brooks was a professor of public administration in the Maxwell School of Citizenship and Public Affairs at Syracuse University in New York at the time Who Really Cares was published. (Later, he became the president of the American Enterprise Institute and, since 2019, he has served as the William Henry Bloomberg Professor of the Practice of Public Leadership at Harvard’s Kennedy School and, at Harvard’s Business School, as a Professor of Management Practice and a Faculty Fellow.  He had been studying patterns in charitable giving and service for many years and he is widely recognized as perhaps the preeminent authority on the subject.  Still, he reports that even he has been surprised by what he has found.

Religious people, it turns out, give more to charity than do non-religious people.  They donate more money—and not merely to their churches, synagogues, temples, and mosques.  “Religious people are more charitable in every measurable nonreligious way—including secular donations, informal giving, and even acts of kindness and honesty—than secularists.”  They are more likely to give money to family and friends, and, when they give, to do so in larger amounts.  They are more likely to volunteer, and to give blood.  Even in the case of non-churchgoers, those who were raised in religious households are more likely to donate to charity than those who were not.

Unsurprisingly, private charity in ever-more-secular Europe has plummeted—to the point, in some areas, almost of extinction.  Brooks, who also argues that charitable giving is essential to a strong economy, points to polling data suggesting that Europeans are, according to their own reports, less happy with their lives than Americans are, and suggests that their unhappiness may be connected with their low rates of charity and volunteerism.  Humans feel better when they give.

As befits a premiere social scientist, Brooks concentrates heavily on multiple streams of contemporary statistical data to form his judgments.  However, the historical record also seems to support the general conclusions of his very important book.  Rodney Stark, in his insightful study of The Rise of Christianity (Princeton, 1996), has shown that the superior charity of the ancient Christians was among the factors in the rapid growth of the early Christian movement.  And, as an examination of the surviving sources demonstrates, even the pagans recognized that.  “The impious Galileans support not only their poor, but ours as well,” complained the fourth-century Roman Emperor Julian (known to subsequent history as “the Apostate” for his efforts to turn back the religious tide even after his uncle Constantine had declared Christianity the official religion of the empire).  “Everyone can see that our people lack aid from us.”

“Religion is the opiate of the people,” Karl Marx famously said.  Elsewhere, he remarked that, while “philosophers have said that the purpose of philosophy is to understand the world, the purpose is to change it.”  Religion, in his view, was a distraction from the real business of making this world a better place.  Unfortunately for Marx’s thesis, though (and, even more so, for those who had to live through the twentieth century), the millennium that just closed was heavily influenced at its end by Marxism and by a related ideology that went under the names of fascism and “National Socialism” or Nazism.  We now have quite graphic evidence of exactly how such theories tend to “change the world.”  Many tens of millions of people died—and many national economies were destroyed.

Religion doesn’t look too bad by contrast.  But even when contrasted with the soft secularism—what one wit has called “apatheism”—that has come to dominate Europe, and perhaps Canada, and certain portions of the American elite, and even though religious people can undoubtedly do much more and much better than they are doing now, believers fare pretty well.

 

 

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