The Free Thinker

Forever Young

I want to connect a few sayings and verses to shed light on something. First, Jesus said: 

Assuredly, I say unto you, unless you become converted, and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 18:3) 

There is a poem by William Wordsworth which I think sheds light on at least part of what this saying means.

ODE: INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD

(1803-1806)

   THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
   The earth, and every common sight,
     To me did seem
     Apparelled in celestial light,
   The glory and the freshness of a dream.
   It is not now as it hath been of yore;--
     Turn wheresoe'er I may,
     By night or day,
   The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

         II

     The Rainbow comes and goes,
     And lovely is the Rose,
     The Moon doth with delight
   Look round her when the heavens are bare,
     Waters on a starry night
     Are beautiful and fair;
    The sunshine is a glorious birth;
    But yet I know, where'er I go,
   That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

         III

   Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
    And while the young lambs bound
     As to the tabor's sound,
   To me alone there came a thought of grief:
   A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
     And I again am strong:
   The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
   No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
   I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,
   The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
     And all the earth is gay;
      Land and sea
    Give themselves up to jollity,
     And with the heart of May
    Doth every Beast keep holiday;--
     Thou Child of Joy,
   Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
     Shepherd-boy!

         IV

   Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
    Ye to each other make; I see
   The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
    My heart is at your festival,
    My head hath its coronal,
   The fulness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all.
    Oh evil day! if I were sullen
    While Earth herself is adorning,
     This sweet May-morning,
    And the Children are culling
     On every side,
    In a thousand valleys far and wide,
    Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
   And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:--
    I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
    --But there's a Tree, of many, one,
   A single Field which I have looked upon,
   Both of them speak of something that is gone:
    The Pansy at my feet
    Doth the same tale repeat:
   Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
   Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

These thoughts lie at the heart of Wordsworth's poetic works and perhaps cannot be fully appreciated without an immersion in Wordsworth's other poetry. In "Ode: Intimations of Immortality" he is subjecting to analysis the feelings that in many of his simpler poems are simply expressed. "While the young lambs bound / As to the tabor's sound" is an effort to express delight, but only so as to study it, to try to figure out whence it comes from and why, Wordsworth thinks, such transports of joy fade as one grows older. Elsewhere Wordsworth expresses delight merely to express delight, and perhaps does it more sublimely. Still, I think one knows what Wordsworth means, knows "the glory and the dream," "the bliss," "the laughter of Heaven"... and I think it's true, too, that certain memories of childhood often evoke it most poignantly. In the next stanza Wordsworth expresses a theory of sorts:

         V

   Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
   The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
    Hath had elsewhere its setting,
    And cometh from afar:
    Not in entire forgetfulness,
    And not in utter nakedness,
   But trailing clouds of glory do we come
    From God, who is our home:
   Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
   Shades of the prison-house begin to close
    Upon the growing Boy,
   But He beholds the light, and whence it flows,
    He sees it in his joy;
   The Youth, who daily farther from the east
    Must travel, still is Nature's Priest,
    And by the vision splendid
    Is on his way attended;
   At length the Man perceives it die away,
   And fade into the light of common day.

Mormons, who believe in a "pre-existence," find the last stanza to be a confirmation, from a secular poet, of their beliefs. I think Wordsworth did not mean, however, that his words be taken as literal truth; when church people objected to the heterodoxy of the supposition he defended it as a "poetic postulate" useful to communicate certain feelings. Though even from an orthodox Christian perspective, though, Wordsworth's theory has truth in it, but I'll come back to that.

Old age is usually seen as an evil, and eternal youth is a perennial longing of mankind. This desire need not have any special, transcendental character: one might simply want to retain strength and beauty and sexual potency, and avoid medical bills and wrinkles and hardness of hearing. A yearning for childhood such as Wordsworth expresses is different: it is not at all practical; its motive is aesthetic, romantic, or so to speak numinous. But I think there is always, or at least usually, this transcendental element in the desire for eternal youth, even in its cruder forms, the hair dyes and workouts and fashions in dress and cults of movie stars that it motivates. A Bob Dylan song contains these words of blessing: "May you stay forever young." What blessing better captures all the desires of the human heart in its best moments than this? And yet it is so absurd that the wish hardly seems to be worth expressing. I like the song "Forever Young" by Alphaville because it is bold enough to express it:

Let's dance in style, lets dance for a while 
Heaven can wait we're only watching the skies 
Hoping for the best but expecting the worst 
Are you going to drop the bomb or not? 
Let us die young or let us live forever 
We don't have the power but we never say never 
Sitting in a sandpit, life is a short trip 
The music's for the sad men 
Can you imagine when this race is won 
Turn our golden faces into the sun 
Praising our leaders we're getting in tune 
The music's played by the madman 


Forever young, i want to be forever young 
Do you really want to live forever, forever forever 
Forever young, i want to be forever young 
Do you really want to live forever 
Forever young 


Some are like water, some are like the heat 
Some are a melody and some are the beat 
Sooner or later they all will be gone 
Why don't they stay young 
It's so hard to get old without a cause 
I don't want to perish like a fading horse 
Youth is like diamonds in the sun 
And diamonds are forever 
So many adventures couldn't happen today 
So many songs we forgot to play 
So many dreams are swinging out of the blue 
We let them come true 

Forever young, i want to be forever young 
Do you really want to live forever, forever forever 
Forever young, i want to be forever young 
Do you really want to live forever forever forever 
Forever young, i want to be forever young 
Do you really want to live forever, forever forever 
Forever young, i want to be forever

I like the hint of ambivalence. The chorus alternates: "I want to be forever young" and "Do you really want to live forever?" There is a hint of smugness in the later stanzas of Wordsworth's "Ode," whose ending, "To me the meanest flower that blows can give / Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears," has an air of complacently celebrating his poetic maturity, which, after all, has just been displayed in authoring a fine poem! Oh, well, it's all right then! By contrast, Alphaville's "Do you really want to live forever?" is not the voice of complacency, but, I think, of a kind of holding back or fear; its effect is to underline the wonderful wildness of this unattainable desire. I think this juxtaposition of ardor and trepidation is wise. I'll appeal to another poem:

I THOUGHT no more was needed
Youth to prolong
Than dumb-bell and foil
To keep the body young.
Oh, who could have foretold	5
That the heart grows old?
Though I have many words,
What woman’s satisfied,
I am no longer faint
Because at her side?	10
Oh, who could have foretold
That the heart grows old?
I have not lost desire
But the heart that I had,
I thought ’twould burn my body	15
Laid on the death-bed.
But who could have foretold
That the heart grows old?

Only the refrain of this poem is, I think, really excellent poetry, yet the thought the poem expresses is an important one. For it claims that it is not enough merely to wish for eternal physical youth; it claims that "the heart grows old." This is the insight of Wordsworth's "Ode" too. And it is the answer to Alphaville's question. Do you really want to live forever? Yes -- and no. We want to be forever young, but the heart grows old. And this is unexpected. I think all children disdain adults to some extent, not understanding how adults can be so easily bored by things (cartoons, board games, toys) they find so delightful. And rightly so in a way. Yet the same thing will happen to them. They will become bored by the toys and the games and the old stories. I remember how Christmas-- the candy, the opening presents-- used to be so gloriously delightful an event, and how it faded. And not all, and perhaps few-- one has to know a person well to be sure-- will ever discover higher, stronger delights in which to rejoice.

And this brings us back to the saying of Jesus, who invites us to "become as little children"-- whatever that means. Without saying how it can be done, I think I can see a little of why this is necessary. One must, somehow, reverse the law of fallen human nature by which every delight is dulled and fades, otherwise the gift of eternal life would be of no use, would be a burden, a curse. It is within God's power, but it would serve no good purpose, to make us all "forever young," physically. If we can somehow make our hearts cease to grow old, God will provide, in due course, the new bodies in which we can live forever.

We call God "Our Father, who art in heaven," and rightly so in some ways: He is stronger and wiser than we, He loves us and seeks our good, He ought to be obeyed. Yet in another way the analogy breaks down. A child sees in his father a being more careworn than himself, beset with temptation, and for that reason, at least sometimes, less able to delight in things. God is like the father, yet he is also like the child who wakes a groaning parent on Christmas morning with his impatient cries of anticipation and joy. God says to us, "Thou shalt not...", but also "Come and see! Come and see!"

What the Gospels Say about the Church

In the comments of a recent post, I was startled by Joyless Moralist's reading of the Gospel and Acts:

It does seem worth noting that Christ never sat down and wrote/dictated a book, while on the other hand he *did* give serious attention to the organization of a church...  One has the impression [why?] that more organization may have been done in the 40 days between the Resurrection and the Ascension, but admittedly no real detail is given about what went on during that time. What is certainly true, though, is that a kind of organization began to form fairly rapidly in the years following Christ's ascension...  Immediately after the Ascension the Apostles already understood themselves to be a governing body invested with authority by Christ...  There is nothing ad hoc about the way Matthias is chosen, nor about the way Peter (Peter!) initiates the action...  Why didn't Jesus pick Judas' successor himself? Because that was the Apostles' right and responsibility. Jesus chose the original twelve, and after that left it to those he had chosen to perpetuate the organization. They are no longer fledglings under Jesus' wing; it's *their* job now to build up the Church, and they immediately begin doing so, purposefully and with a clear sense of mission...  [In response to me: "You wouldn't get the idea from Acts that he's superior in authority to Paul, or indeed to any of the apostles."]  Actually, I think that's exactly the idea one would get from an impartial reading of the Gospels and Acts. That aspect of Catholicism always made perfect sense to me, long before I seriously considered being a Catholic. In the Acts, Peter takes charge at once, and others defer to his authority. It's true that Paul stands up to him once, but this is the exception that proves the rule; Paul is clearly taking a bold step here, and his attitude is exactly what one would expect of an underling taking a stand against the man in charge...  Think of the Church as being a bit like a branch of a larger company with a CEO that occasionally steps in and gives a direct order or takes charge of a project himself. Most of the time they're expected to work things out for themselves, though always in keeping with the company's general goals and with certain resources that they can turn to when they need extra help. Once in awhile the CEO might step in personally and change the course of operations in a larger way. Now, in a sense it might undermine the authority of the branch manager when the CEO steps in, because it shows that he isn't the top of the hierarchy, but it doesn't necessarily undermine him in a substantial way, because it was always a clear part of his identity that he was subject to a higher authority. Meanwhile, it's perfectly possible that the CEO (especially in the early days when he's getting a new manager started) might cede certain tasks or decisions to him: it's *your* job now, so you decide!

Joyless Moralist seems to look on the history of the early church as a business school case study.  Again and again, the words "organization" and "authority" appear.  The question I find myself asking is: Where did JM get this paradigm that she's imposing on the Gospel and Acts.  At one point in the Gospels the disciples have a quarrel over pre-eminence:

Then a dispute arose among them as to which of them would be the greatest. And Jesus, perceiving the thought of their heart, took a little child and set him by Him. And said to them, "Whoever receives this little child in My name receives Me; and whoever receives Me receives Him who sent Me. For he who is least among you all will be great." (Luke: 9:46-48)

 Or in Matthew:

At that time the disciples came to Jesus, saying, "Who then is greatest in the kingdom of Heaven?" Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the midst of them, and said, "Assuredly I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will be no means enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." (Matthew 18: 1-3)

Or another episode, in Mark:

They said to Him, "Grant us that we may sit, one on Your right hand and the other on Your left, in Your glory." But Jesus said to them, "You do not know what you are asking"... And when the ten heard it, they began to be greatly displeased with James and John. But Jesus called them to Himself and said to them, "You know that those who are considered rulers over the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones exercise authority over them. Yet it shall not be so among you; but whoever desires to become great among you shall be your servant. And whoever desires to be first shall be slave of all."

In short, Jesus refuses to put one apostle above the others, to define ranks or hierarchies among them. Their requests for such information are misguided and show that they don't understand what He's about. Joyless Moralist seems to have a rather less evasive answer to the apostles' question: Peter was the greatest of the disciples, the branch manager, the man in charge, to whom the others were underlings. Now, there is one verse in Scripture of which I would say a superficial reading does tilt slightly to this interpretation.

When Jesus came into the region of Caesarea Philippi, He asked His disciples, saying, "Who do men say that I, the son of Man, am?" So they said, "Some say John the Baptist, some Elijah, and others Jeremiah or one of the prophets." He said to them, "But who do you say that I am?" Simon Peter answered and said, "You are the Christ, the son of the living God." Jesus answered and said to him, "Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but My Father who is in heaven. And I also say to you that you are Peter, and on this rock [petrus is related to the Latin word for rock, so some say there is a pun here] I will build my church, and the gates of Hades shall not prevail against it. And I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven." Then he commanded His disciples that they should tell no one that He was Jesus the Christ. From that time on Jesus began to show to His disciples that He must go to Jerusalem, and suffer many things from the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised the third day. Then Peter took Him aside and began to rebuke Him, saying, "Far be it from You, Lord; this shall not happen to You!" But He turned and said to Peter, "Get behind Me, Satan! You are an offense to Me, for you are not mindful of the things of God, but the things of men." (Matthew 16:13-23)

I've extended this quote a bit longer than the Catholics typically do, because I think the episodes are closely connected. Anyway, Father Michael Pomazansky, an Orthodox priest, in Orthodox Dogmatic Theology, writes of this passage by quoting a letter to the Fourth Ecumenical Council from St. Juvenal, Patriarch of Jerusalem: "On this confession the Church of God is made firm, and this Faith, given to us by the holy Apostles, the Church has kept and will keep to the end of the world." That is, the "rock" is Peter's confession, not Peter himself. This is certainly plausible, but the Roman Catholic interpretation-- that with these words Christ names Peter personally the rock on which the Church will be built-- does seem semantically tenable. Though the image that puts in one's mind is a strange one. For one does not, please note, build a church or other structure on a single rock. When I think of the Roman Catholic view, I can't help imagining an enormous cathedral balanced awkwardly on a single tiny rock. Actually, that image expresses what's wrong with the view of a monarchical church, too: it is too fragile, too imbalanced, depending as it does on a single individual. If we focus again on the words of the passage, it appears that Jesus's naming of Peter as "the rock" is a response, almost an impulsive response, to Peter's declaration that "You are the Christ." If one of the other apostles had spoken first, one feels that Jesus might have said the same thing to him; or that if another apostle expresses the same declaration then or later, Jesus would have declared him, too, to be a "rock." Of course, they did confess that in due course. And that makes the architectural metaphor much more satisfactory, for a church finely balanced on one foundation stones might, it would seem, tumble at the slightest breeze, but there's no reason a church built on twelve foundation stones could not withstand a hurricane. Still, at least to my ears (biased perhaps because I've lived in the West and spent a lot of time with Catholics) this passage does have a slightly Roman Catholic ring to it.

But nothing else in the Gospel or Acts does. Before addressing the appointment of Matthias, it's worth looking at some of the many images of the Church that the Gospels present. From John:

"I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit He prunes, that it may bear more fruit. You are already clean because of the word which I have spoken to you. Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in Me, and I in him, bears much fruit; for without Me you can do nothing. If anyone does not abide in Me, he is cast out as a branch and is withered; and they gather them and throw them into the fire, and they are burned." (John 15:1-6)

I find it amazing how apt this passage is if read as a theory of history. Every human civilization has grown old and withered except the Christian one. Christianity is forever young; it gives rise to sciences and literatures and ideologies and states and nations and ethics and institutions, and these all ossify, weaken, wither, and die when they cut themselves off from Christianity: this is the lesson of the past 2,000 years, indeed of all history, since before Christianity mankind was bound to the wheel of growth and decay and "there was nothing new under the sun." But I digress. What does the vine-and-branches metaphor imply for Church organization? First, it is consistent with hierarchy, for branches may branch off of branches and not only from the trunk of the vine. But it does not at all suggest monarchical organization, since many branches, not just one, will communicate directly with the vine.

Also in the Gospel of John, Jesus uses the metaphor of a shepherd and a flock:

I am the good shepherd; and I know My sheep, and am known by My own. As the Father knows Me, even so I know the Father; and I lay down My life for the sheep. And other sheep I have which are not of this fold; them also I must bring, and they will hear My voice; and there will be one flock and one shepherd. (John 10:14-16)

(The "other sheep" are generally taken to be the Gentiles, I think.)  Since sheep are famous for following each other, this metaphor is again consistent with the idea that some follow Jesus more closely, while others, not as close to Jesus themselves, follow other Christians; and in that sense, it is consistent with a certain degree of hierarchy.  But it does not suggest any fixed hierarchy, and certainly not a single highest hierarchy.  Indeed, the idea of some "chief sheep" leading the other sheep is absurd.

In the middle of the Gospel of Matthew there is a wealth of images by which Jesus describes "the kingdom of heaven."  For purposes of argument take "the kingdom of heaven" to refer to the Church, although I don't think that identification is, theologically, the whole story.  First (Matthew 13:24-30), he compares the kingdom of heaven to "a man who sowed good seed in his field," but his enemy came and planted weeds. No idea of hierarchy here: stalks of wheat grows side by side together.  Next Jesus says:

"The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, which a man took and sowed in his field, which indeed is the least of all the seeds; but when it is grown it is greater than the herbs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and nest in its branches." (Matthew 13:31-32)

This image seems to contain a prophecy, for it was indeed to transpire thereafter that the tiny beginnings in Judea were to swell into a great movement which converted whole kingdoms, first the Roman empire, as well as Georgia and Armenia, then Ireland and the European "barbarians" beyond the old Roman frontier, then the Slavs, and more recently Latin America, sub-Saharan Africa, much of South Korea, now tens of millions of Chinese, etc.: the tiny seed became a great tree. Again, there is an idea of growth, and of fruitfulness, and I think of holiness (to me, the "birds of the air" seem imaginatively to evoke angels), and even perhaps of a limited degree of hierarchy since some branches are stronger than others and some branch off of others.  But not of hierarchy, unless the pope is the trunk of the tree.  Then Jesus says:

"The kingdom of heaven is like leaven, which a woman took and hid in three measures of meal till it was all leavened." (Matthew 13: 33)

This is a beautiful and wise metaphor for the way the Church spreads. Again, there is nothing top-down here, no organization: instead, growth comes from the autonomous and decentralized actions of many tiny organisms. So with Christianity: it spreads by this kind action and that good friend, by a song or a story; it is not planned from above by an "organization." Two more parables highlight the initiative of the seekers for truth who come to the Church:

Again, the kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and hid; and for joy over it he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant seeking beautiful pearls. Who, when he had found one pearl of great price, went and sold all that he had and bought it. (Matthew 13:44-46)

It is interesting how often Jesus uses commercial metaphors.  These parables communicate the ideas of there being something of great value and of making great sacrifices for its sake.  That individual initiative is so prominent here contrasts, perhaps, with the Good Shepherd metaphor in John.  Of course there is again no suggestion of hierarchy, or of organization.

Aside from the "rock"/"keys" passage, there is one other explicit mention of "the church" in Matthew (and no others in the Gospels):

Moreover if your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault between you and him alone. If he hears you, you have gained your brother. But if he will not hear, take with you one or two more, that 'by the mouth of two or three witnesses every word may be established.' And if he refuses to hear them, tell it to the church. But if he refuses even to hear the church, let him be to you like a heathen and a tax collector. (Matthew 18:15-17)

This passage suggests that "the church" has authority, but it gives no indication of the structure of the church. Certainly no church leaders are mentioned: Jesus does not say to tell it to a priest or a bishop or an ecclesiastical court. On the contrary, the progression from "you and him alone" to "one or two more" to "the church" suggests that the church is a large body of people, who somehow-- and this is the important point!-- are presumed to be able to form a collective judgment.

Joyless Moralist says that Christ didn't dictate a book, but he did found an organization. While it's true that He didn't dictate a book, He did teach, and the Gospels are (generally taken by Christians to be) first- or second-hand accounts of His teaching. But it's not exactly true that he founded an organization either. In particular, He does not establish authority structures, resisting pressure by the apostles to do so. What He founds is a church, an assembly, a community of love. The Church is something new. He warns the apostles not to model it on the secular authority structures of the Gentiles. He describes this new thing with many rich and beautiful images. Most of them-- the field, the flock of sheep-- are strikingly egalitarian, seeming to put the believers on an equal footing and directly in touch with God. One can derive from some of the parables-- the flock perhaps; certainly the vine-- enough suggestions of leadership and hierarchy to be consistent with the commonsense needs for at least some structure and leadership if any organization which is in this world even if not of it is to manage its affairs, remain coherent, make necessary decisions; but scarcely even that and certainly not more.  If Christ did not found an organization, neither do the apostles seem to have done that, exactly. They taught the Gospel, made occasional decisions in an ad hoc way; their own authority, if that's what it was, as apostles, they communicated to no one, and that office died with them; they created a few offices and set precedents that became the basis of others.  The tremendous amount of traveling that Paul at least, and according to tradition all the apostles, did, was the ideal way to fulfill the command to "go and make disciples of all nations" but seems hardly compatible with running an organization.  Christians needed organizational structures, as they needed bread and clothing and roofs, for mundane practical reasons; but to think that that organization is the Church is a profound error.  As Father Michael Pomazansky writes: "The life of the Church in its essence is mystical; the course of its life cannot be entirely included in any 'history.'  The Church is completely distinct from any kind whatever of organized society on earth."

Finally, one of the things that saddens me about JM's view of "Petrine authority" is that it seems to make it impossible to appreciate Peter for who he was.  Consider again the appointment of Matthias in the Book of Acts.  Luke writes that "Peter stood up in the midst of the disciples"-- a striking phrase.  Peter says that some passages from the Psalms were prophecies about Judas.  Were they?  Does it matter?  Anyway, based on these Scriptures he concludes that another should take Judas's place among the Twelve.  Two candidates, Matthias and Barsabbas, are chosen, and they draw lots to decide whom to appoint, seemingly a way of ascertaining the Divine will; but if one is inclined to believe that the lot fell to Matthias by mere chance, there is not a word in the Book of Acts to gainsay it.  There is no other mention of Matthias in the New Testament.  However, soon afterwards another apostle, the extraordinarily eloquent and energetic Paul, is appointed by a miraculous vision and conversion on the road to Damascus.  So, if Peter's goal was to ensure that the number of apostles was twelve, the appointment of Matthias actually achieved the opposite of this, raising the number to thirteen.  Mightn't it have made more sense to wait and let Paul take the place of Judas?  This is not to say anything against Matthias of course.  Rather, I want to draw attention to what it shows about Peter's character.  Peter is forever impetuous.  He is present at the Transfiguration, and babbles: "Master, it is good for us to be here; and let us make three tabernacles: one for You, one for Moses, and one for Elijah" (Luke 9:33). Luke adds explicitly, and amusingly, that "he did not know what he was talking about."  He is the only one of the disciples to walk on water at Jesus's invitation; but he quickly loses faith and begins sinking.  He is the first to declare "You are the Christ!" but a moment later he plays the part of "Satan" by tempting Jesus not to face crucifixion, to "let this cup pass," to quote Jesus's own prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane when (and I hardly dare to write this even though it is written in the Gospels) Jesus seems Himself to have felt a powerful temptation.  (In thise sense, Peter was even a greater tempter than the dread spirit in the wilderness, for none of the dread spirit's temptations seems to have gone as close to Jesus's heart as Peter's words did.)  On the eve of the Crucifixion, Peter boasts that "I will lay down my life for Your sake," (John 13:37) then denies Him three times before the cock crows.  Just before that, when Jesus washes the disciples' feet, Peter first cries "You shall never wash my feet!" then, when Jesus says that "if I do not wash you, you have no part with Me," he goes to the other extreme and declares "Lord, not my feet only, but almost my hands and my head!" and earns another gentle reproof for his enthusiasm.   When Jesus is arrested, Peter takes a sword and cuts off the high priest's ear: Jesus heals it and tells him to sheathe his sword, saying "all who take the sword will perish by the sword" (Matthew 26:52).  After the Resurrection, Peter runs to the empty tomb.  Was that necessary?  Later in Galilee, when John recognizes Jesus on the shore:

Simon Peter put on his outer garment (for he had removed it), and plunged into the sea. But the other disciples came in the little boat... dragging the net with fish. (John 21:7-8)

Did Peter need to leap into the sea and swim to Jesus?  Mightn't it have been just as well to help his fellows bring in the haul of fish?  And yet it is these details that bring Peter to life.  He is nothing like a branch manager or an executive.  That is not the sort of role for which he is suited.  His best actions, you could not deduce from a moral code; they are not generically good but expressive of a peculiar goodness that is distinctively Peter's and the more precious for that.  He might never have existed; and yet now that he has lived and been the man he was, he seems necessary, one feels that the whole universe would lose something if he were not.  "Eternity is in love with the creations of time," as William Blake wrote.  In his impetuosity and volubility Peter often makes missteps, yet his love for, his joy in the Lord, always shines through, and is contagious.  I love Peter.  Praise God for Peter!  What joy it would be (will be, I hope) to meet him!  But when you consider Peter's whole character, as displayed over and over again in the Gospels and Acts, it is not at all difficult to see the episode with Matthias as another instance of Peter's, as it were, jumping to conclusions, leaping into a course of action which, though in this case not harmful, is not particularly... optimal.  It may be another case where Peter's missteps turn out well.  One feels, particularly in the phrase "Peter stood up among the believers," that Peter set the church in motion, that the event made an impression and was remembered, even if it received no confirmation by revelation or miracle and nothing in particular came of it, and even if the real awakening of the church came not then, at Peter's initiative, but just afterwards, at divine initiative, with the coming of the Holy Spirit, though of course Peter plays a leading role in that episode too, giving a great speech and converting thousands.  Later, when Peter converts Cornelius, a Roman, Acts says:

And when Peter came up to Jerusalem, those of the circumcision contended with him, saying "You went in to uncircumcised men and ate with them!" But Peter explained [and recounts vision in which God told him to do so]... (Acts 11:2-3ff)

Note here that "those of the circumcision" don't seem shy about confronting Peter.  The passage does not suggest that Peter had "authority" over them.  Peter does lead, but, as in the appointment of Matthias, by persuasion, namely by appeals to Scripture in the first case and to personal revelation in this case, not by claiming ecclesiastical authority.  Christ is the vine, and Peter is one of the branches. 

Jesus's Prophecies

From the Gospel of Mark:

And Jesus answering them, began to say "Take heed that no one deceives you. For many will come in My name, saying, 'I am He,' and will deceive many. But when you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be troubled; for such things must happen, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. And there will be earthquakes in various places, and there will be famines and troubles. These are the beginnings of sorrows.

"But watch out for yourselves, for they will deliver you up to councils, and you will be beaten in the synagogues. You will be brought before rulers and kings for My sake, for a testimony to them. And the gospel must first be preached to all the nations. But when they arrest you and deliver you up, do not worry beforehand, or premeditate what you will speak. But whatever is given you in that hour, speak that; for it is not you who speak, but the Holy Spirit. Now brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child, and children will rise up against parents and cause them to be put to death. And you will be hated by all for My name's sake. But he who endures to the end will be saved.

"So when you see the 'abomination of desolation,' spoken of by Daniel the prophet, standing where it ought not," (let the reader understand), "then let those who are in Judea flee to the mountains, let him who is on the housetop not go down into the house, nor enter to take anything out of his house, and let him who is in the field not go back to get his clothes. But woe to those who are pregnant and to those nursing babies in those days! And pray that your flight may not be in winter. For in those days there will be tribulation, such as has not been since the beginning of creation which God created until this time, nor ever shall be. And unless the Lord had shortened those days, no flesh would be saved; but for the elect's sake, whom He chose, He shortened the days.

"Then if anyone says to you, 'Look, here is the Christ!' or 'Look, He is there!', do not believe it. For false christs and false prophets will rise and show signs and wonders to deceive, if possible, even the elect. But take heed; see, I have told you all things beforehand. But in those days, after that tribulation, the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars of heaven will fall, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see the Son of Man coming in the clouds with great power and glory. And then He will send His angels, and gather together His elect from the four winds, from the farthest part of earth to the farthest part of heaven.

"Now learn from this parable of the fig tree: when its branch has already become tender, and puts forth leaves, you know that summer is near. So you also, when you see these things happening, know that it is near-- at the doors! Assuredly I say to you, this generation will by no means pass away till all these things take place. Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will not pass away. But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father." (Mark 13: 5-31)

One of the troubling things about early Christianity is that you get the sense that many or most early Christians believed in an imminent end of the world. Of course, 2000 years later, the end of the world still has not occurred. Is this a problem for Christians? What makes it seem more embarrassing is that these prophecies came from Jesus himself. Moreover, he provides a timeline: this generation shall by no means pass away, till all these things take place. "This generation," that is, the generation of his disciples, already adults in 33 A.D., would have lived to 100 A.D. or a little later, at the most.

However, many of the above prophecies seem to have described events that took place within a couple of decades after Jesus's death, especially the Jewish rebellion that led to the destruction of Jerusalem. If the phrase "This generation shall not pass away..." refers only to those events-- distant for us but a real apocalypse for Jews who saw their peculiar religious nation smashed by the overwhelming force of the Roman legions after a thousand years-- then the chronology is not problematic. Is it just a matter of a few phrases out of order, or a somewhat confusing reference in the term "all these things come to pass?"  That, of course, would place "the sun will be darkened" in the future.

Whatever else one may say, the passage is striking, exhilarating, spectacular-- and perhaps that impression is more useful than an attempt to map it onto chronology, for those of us who find it hard to understand.  It dispels complacency; it evokes a sense of wonder; it is a reminder of the fragility and impermanence of this world.  For each of us, after all, there is at least one apocalypse in store: death.

I am struck by the phrase "pray that your flight will not be in winter." Why pray if the events are predetermined? It is as if Jesus foresaw the general outlines of the coming events, but certain details remained indeterminate, such as what season it would be when the destruction of Jerusalem would occur. Also, the phrase "of that day and hour, no one knows, not even the angels in Heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father" seems to have theological implications. Can the Father know things that the Son does not?

Near the end of the Gospel of John there is a text which is unusual in that, instead of merely telling the story, it makes mention of an opinion that formed later:

Then Peter, turning around, saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following... said to Jesus, "What about this man?" Jesus said to him, "If I will that he remain till I come, what is that to you?" 

Then this saying went out among the brethren that this disciple would not die. Yet Jesus did not say to him that he would not die, but, "If I will that he remain till I come, what is that to you?" (John 21: 21-22)

Thus John goes out of his way to suggest that his fellow Christians were jumping to conclusions about the meaning of Jesus's words concerning him ['the disciple Jesus loved' is John himself]. Was this unusual digression meant as a dissent from the widespread expectations of imminent apocalypse among the early Christians? If Jesus did not mean to say John would live till Jesus came again, the motive for Jesus's words about John are not quite clear to me. Clearly Jesus doesn't think Peter needs to know what will happen to John, that is why He says, "what is that to you?" We are to love one another; but idle curiosity about the lives of others is a distraction and a temptation to envy. Still, why does Jesus make the suggestive remark about John surviving till Jesus comes?

One thing at least is known: John outlived Peter. From Peter's point of view, then, did Jesus's words prove true? That is, John was still living when Peter was reunited with his Lord? But I am wandering, writing of what I do not understand. Divine foreknowledge is full of mysteries.

Wheat and Tares in the Soul

The following parable is usually interpreted as a description of the world and of Judgment Day, but I think it has another application:

Another parable He put forth to them, saying: "The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field; but while men slept, his enemy came and sowed tares among the wheat and went his way. But when the grain had sprouted and produced a crop, then the tares also appeared.

So the servants of the owner came and said to him, 'Sir, did you now sow good seed in your field? How then does it have tares?'

He said to them, 'An enemy has done this.'

The servants said to him, 'Do you want us then to go and gather them up?'

But he said, 'No, lest while you gather up the tares you also uproot the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest, and at the time of harvest I will say to the reapers: First, gather together the tares and bind them in bundles to burn them, but gather the wheat into my barns.'

The metaphor of wheat and tares applies also to the human soul, I think. Good and bad qualities exist in us side by side, and are related to one another in complicated ways. When we try to improve the way we live, we run a risk of uprooting virtues along with vices. A man who is proud of his courage, in seeking to become humble, might cease to be brave. A man whose hard work gives him little time for friends may, in trying to be sociable, become lazy. A Christian is forever being reminded that he is a sinner, and rightly so; but we may not have the insight, at any given time, to see just how we are sinning, and if we rush to judgment against ourselves, we are likely to do a bad job of it, just as if we rushed to judge others. Sometimes I think we must let the wheat and tares grow together for a time, waiting for a moment of discernment when we see a way to change our lives.

Paul Cites His Sources

Paul writes to the Ephesians:

If indeed you have heard of the dispensation of the grace of God which was given to me for you, how that by revelation He made known to me the mystery (as I have briefly written already, by which, when you read, you may understand my knowledge in the mystery of Christ)... (Ephesians 3:2-4)

I remember that when I was younger I found passages like this in Paul's epistles off-putting. It came across to me as Paul bragging, pulling rank, bullying. When I read this passage the other day, it was so obvious why Paul wrote this that I didn't see how I could have missed it before. It has nothing to do with boasting; it's about evidence. Paul is not writing to credulous fools who believe everything they are told. They want to know how he knows. And Paul is not mentioning his personal encounter with Jesus to pull rank, but because he wants to persuade his audience of things that are very important, and this personal encounter is the reason they should believe he is telling the truth.

"I Have Overcome the World"

From the Gospel of John:

These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer. I have overcome the world. (John 16:33)

If we are to take John (or the author of the Gospel of John-- Biblical scholars would dispute its authorship) at his word, Jesus said these words on the eve of his Crucifixion. Whether John meant literally that the words were said then, I do not know. I believe tradition holds that he didn't write his Gospel down until decades later. I am not sure, but I suspect that it rarely happens that I can remember even a small part of a conversation verbatim a day, or an hour, later, let alone decades. On the other hand, especially striking phrases do sometimes linger in the memory much longer, and what Jesus says in the Gospels is almost always striking. Of course that night was the most important in John's life; John, indeed, with other Christians, believed that it was perhaps the most important night in the history of the world; so he undoubtedly thought about it a great deal and might have remembered it better than an ordinary conversation. So it is not inconceivable, though it seems improbable, that John might have remembered parts of that conversation verbatim by natural means. Christians might say, too, that John had divine help. I would certainly agree, but it is not obvious that divine help would take the form of making John's record an exact transcription of the conversation that took place. It might instead have enabled him to write a version that was of most use to Christians, or that expressed one side of the Gospel message with the utmost clarity, or that telescoped many things that Jesus said over the three years of His ministry into a single night. I think a Christian should at least be inclined to think that if the words are not a literal transcription-- and they might well be-- they are if anything even truer than that, in capturing the impression made by Jesus on the men who were closest to Him and who subsequently devoted their whole lives to Him, even unto death.

"I have overcome the world." The first thing that is striking about the phrase is how mad, how megalomaniacal, the words are, under the circumstances, from a worldly, or we may say simply from a normal or commonsense point of view. From Jesus, the son of a carpenter's wife, from Nazareth, a humble man of no wealth or position, and a member of a conquered nation, in a backward province of the Roman empire, come words that would have been vainglorious even in the mouth of Alexander the Great or Julius Caesar. He had, admittedly, attracted a small following, even at times large followings, people impressed by his miracles of healing, of casting out demons, of making a few loaves and fish feed multitudes, as well as by His teaching, which could be, at different times and to different people, both persuasive and off-putting. He had been welcomed into Jerusalem by crowds chanting "Hosanna" and throwing palms a week before, but these crowds were so fickle that a few days later they called for Pilate to free Barabbas, whom the Gospels call a robber (John), or a rebel and murderer (Luke), rather than Jesus. Even Peter, the most enthusiastic of Jesus's disciples, denied Him three times that night.

And yet even from a secular and historical point of view, this utterance of Jesus's gained a certain vindication in the subsequent conversion of the Roman Empire, and later in the global ascendancy of Christian Europe, which indeed persists even to this day. All that both is and is not, I think, what Jesus meant when He spoke those words. It was good that Rome converted to Christianity, and that the nations of Europe, and later of the Americas, then many in Africa, and now many millions in South Korea and China, lived in the Christian faith. And the "worldly" success, the wealth and power and scientific and artistic achievements, of Europe owed much to this Christian heritage. Yet it remained "the world" in the sense that, I think, Jesus and John mean it. What exactly Jesus/John did mean by "the world" here is not easy to say. Other references to "the world" in John 16 are almost equally opaque.

I will no longer talk much with you, for the ruler of this world is coming, and he has nothing in Me. But that the world may know that I love the Father, and as the Father gave Me commandment, so I do. Arise, let us go from here. (John 14:30-31)

If the world hates you, know that it hated Me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love its own. Yet because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you. (John 15: 18-19)

And when He [the Helper; the Holy Spirit] has come, He will convict the world of sin... (John 16: 8)

I came forth from the Father and have come into the world. Again, I leave the world and go to the Father. (John 16:28)

I suppose the last seems straightforward: Jesus is prophesying His own death, and when the soul leaves the body it is no longer in this world. But when Jesus tells his disciples "the world will hate you," He cannot mean the world quite in the merely physical sense, for the disciples are part of the world in that sense and will not hate themselves. "The world" means society, perhaps; or the Roman Empire; or the Jewish nation with its sinews of religious identity; or, somehow, all of them in one. It is a system with its own ineffable logic, yet it has a "ruler," a reference to Satan. There is in Christianity, I think, something that is rather the opposite of Adam Smith's notion of the "invisible hand." Adam Smith thinks that the invisible hand of the market will coordinate individuals' self-interested efforts in the service of the common good, in a limited sense, and he hits on a profound truth. But there is, I think, an even more profound truth, that there is something in this world, in the self-organizing logic of human society, and also in a man's own will, that thwarts and corrupts all that is good in us. Rome was made great by justice, courage, tolerance, and love of freedom in the great days of the republic; yet it was also a slave society. According to The Holy Apostles, a book on the lives of the apostles published by the Holy Apostles Convent in Buena Vista, CO, John himself became a slave in a bath-house for a time, after being shipwrecked, but willingly, as penance for a sin:

When the lands of the earth were divided among the apostles, John was downcast when he chose the last lot, that of Asia Minor, and uttered three sighs. With tears, he fell prostrate on the ground and made reverence to all the apostles. Peter then took him by the hand and raised him up, saying: "We all have thee as a father, and they patient endurance for our support. Why has thou troubled us with this thine action and confused our hearts?'"John answered, weeping and groaning bitterly, "I have sinned, brethren; for this hour I have seen that grave perils lie before me in the sea; for, just as the lot of Asia fell to me, I received it with great heaviness, failing to call to mind our Lord Who said: '... there shall not a hair of your head perish.' For not one hair is lost without God's permission. I beseech ye, therefore, beloved brethren, pray on my behalf before the Lord, that He forgive me this sin!"

After a shipwreck, John and a companion, Prochorus, were employed in a bath-house, and later meekly submitted to be made slaves by deceit:

Now Romana [the bath-house owner] had a friend who was a lawyer and, seeking his legal opinion, she told him a lie: 'My parents reposed, leaving me two slaves who, after many years, ran away from my house. Therefore, I destroyed the certificates of their purchase. Now they have returned to my house and acknowledge themselves to be my slaves. Is it possible to draw up duplicate papers of ownership?' The attorney replied: 'If they admit now, before three trustworthy witnesses, that they were once thy slaves, it is possible to make new papers.' Through the Holy Spirit, this entire scheme was revealed to John, and he said to [Prochorus]: 'Prochorus, my child, Romana seeks for us to make a written acknowledgment that we are her slaves, and she went to see a lawyer about the matter. He has agreed to whatever she hath chosen to tell him. Now she is looking for three witnesses who will certify that we are her slaves. Therefore, let no sadness enter thine heart, but rather rejoice; for by this will our Lord Jesus Christ quickly reveal everything to this woman, as to who we are.' Just then Romana entered the bath-house and, grasping John by the arm, she began to rain blows down upon him, and said: 'Wicked servant, runaway! When thy mistress entereth, thou must greet her and do reverence! Mayhaps thou didst imagine thou wast a freeman? Know this: thou art Romana's slave!' And, once again, she slapped him to scare him, and said, 'Thou are not my servant, runaway!' And John said: 'But thou hast said otherwise, that we are thy servants. I am John the fireman, and this is Prochorus the water man.' Romana again asked: 'Whose servants are you, O wicked ones?' John answered: 'Whomever thou desirest to say.' She replied: 'That ye are mine.' John then said: 'Written down or not, we admit that we are thy servants.' Then she quickly said: 'I want it in writing before three witnesses.' John told her: 'Do not tarry; let us take care of the matter today.' She then took us before the temple of Artemis and, in the presence of three witnesses, she wrote out our papers of sale. Then we [John and Prochorus] returned to our work.

I don't know where this story comes from or how reliable it is, but the thought of the Apostle John, 'the disciple Jesus loved,' who leaned his head on Jesus's breast at the last supper ("Now there was leaning on Jesus' bosom one of His disciples, whom Jesus loved," John 13:23), the first man (but there were women before) to see the graveclothes of the Resurrected Lord, reduced to this, to what, as far as the world was concerned, would be a lifetime of toil in a Roman bath-house, submitting to beatings and humiliations at the hands of a petty cheat of a tradeswoman, is one of the saddest scenes I can imagine. Of course, John seems not to have been discouraged by it, according to the story. Yet if John had indeed been a slave, it might explain the anti-Roman and anti-wordly flavor of John's writings. John had seen the world as it looks from the very bottom. "The meek shall inherit the earth" and "blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted" (Matthew 5:4-5) are sublime.  Yet the broken-hearted might find still greater comfort in the transcendental simplicity of the Gospel of John's "I have overcome the world."

Christianity and Biblical Ethics

This usefully naive remark on Biblical morality from Tom merits comment:

It offers a much more satisfactory account than any theology I've encountered. For instance, Christianity preaches that everyone is a sinner, and makes little to no distinction between severity/degree of sin. In fact, all one needs to do to claim ever-lasting happiness in the afterlife is to affirm the divinity of Jesus. Are you a serial killer? Well, as long as you find Jesus before you die, you're good to go. What if you're Mother Theresa and have doubts about your faith near the end of your life? Sorry, you go to hell. Claiming that everyone is a sinner is not a morally nuanced position... 

Frankly, morality as is described in the bible is horrifying. Most of the lessons of the bible are ignored, to society's benefit. Morality has evolved so much over the millennia that what used to pass as a good moral standard is now comical. "Thou shall not take the lord's name in vain" is just one example.

Some of this is actually true.  A lot of the morality described in the Bible is horrifying, for example.  In many cases the Bible describes horrible behavior in order to condemn it, for example, the Crucifixion of Jesus, or the slavery of the Hebrews in Egypt.  But some of the horrible behavior in the Old Testament seems to receive divine sanction.  The polygyny of Jacob, King David, and others is apparently condoned.  It seems that the Israelites are sometimes commanded by God to commit genocide against some peoples who stand in their way.  The old Jewish law sometimes seems hideously harsh.  For example:

If a man has a stubborn and rebellious son who does not obey his father and mother and will not listen to them when they discipline him, his father and mother shall take hold of him and bring him to the elders at the gate of his town. They shall say to the elders, "This son of ours is stubborn and rebellious. He will not obey us. He is a profligate and a drunkard." Then all men of his town shall stone him to death. (Deuteronomy 21:18-21)

If one judges Jewish law by the standards of the time, however, it doesn't look so bad. Roman fathers, too, had power of life and death over their families, Carthaginians sacrificed children, and human sacrifice was practiced all over the ancient world. Jewish law had provisions for the liberation of slaves (though not foreign slaves) and forgiveness of debts. And the Ten Commandments laid the foundations of human rights and freedom of contract, while banning pagan superstitions.

"The morality described in the Bible" is not unitary.  The relationship of the old Mosaic Law to the teachings of Christ is a difficult question, but that there is moral progress from the often brutal tales of the early books of the Bible to the sublimity of the teachings of Jesus can hardly be doubted.  Moral evolution has continued, and one practice that is condoned in the New Testament, though not in the Gospels, we now rightly reject: slavery.  But it is historically myopic to use this as an argument against the Bible, because it is precisely Bible-believing Christians, and no one else, who made an end of slavery.  Christian Europe softened Roman slavery into medieval serfdom, and then let the serfs evolve into free peasants.  Later, when the newly empowered secular states of the Renaissance era allowed the slave trade to revive (though for the most part not on the actual territory of Europe, but abroad, where Portuguese and Spaniards learned it from the Africans), the popes fought it ineffectually, and later, more effectively, the British, impelled by a powerful Christian anti-slavery lobby.  In the United States, too, it was Christians, e.g. Quakers, who formed the backbone of the abolitionist movement.

Modern secularists inherit the morality that Christianity made while discarding the theology, and then use that morality to reproach Christianity for what Christians have done or condoned in the past.  What this ignores is that everybody, not just Christians, behaved that way in the past.  What distinguishes (ancient Jews and) Christians is that they overcame, often much more slowly than we might wish, the evils which modern secularists now condemn.  To some extent this modern morality, though rooted in Christianity, can sustain itself even if doctrinal, organized Christianity fades away.  Post-Christian Europeans do not re-establish slavery.  Except when they do.  The Nazis and Soviets practiced slavery on a scale, and with a degree of cruelty, that far surpassed the slavery of, say, the Roman Empire.  The historical record is often more scanty than we would like, but it seems likely that the atrocities of the 20th-century faiths of mass atheism have no peer in the history of the past.  Post-WWII Europe initially enjoyed a religious revival, and then, when the influence of religion faded after the 1960s, they could hardly have revived the bad old days if they had wanted to, living as they did under US hegemony.  In the US, of course, Christianity is still the dominant worldview, so the moral merits of US society can't be credited to the atheist/secularist minority.  Secularists can swim in the moral waters of a Christian society well enough, but whether secularism can supply that morality is unclear.

Yes, Christians claim that everyone is a sinner, and, contrary to Tom's assertion, that is a morally nuanced position. It is precisely because of the height of Christian moral aspirations that everyone falls short. It requires moral vision even to glimpse the moral perfection to which every Christian must aspire. And it requires much soul-searching to understand all, or even a substantial portion, of the ways in which we fall short. Yes, Christians believe that even serial killers can change and be saved; and this is generally and rightly felt to be an inspiring and awesome witness of the love of God. But not easily: repentance is required. Yes, Christians tend to believe (setting aside those who believe in the doctrine of "assurance of salvation") that everyone, even the best of us, can fall. It's not just a function of believing in the divinity of Jesus though. There are passages in the New Testament that could be read a little bit like that but it is never put so baldly as that. If one believes in Jesus, one should live by His teachings, or at least make some attempt. In any case, belief is not wholly voluntary; it is through a life of active love that one's faith flourishes.

'Woe to You, Chorazin! Woe to You, Bethsaida!'

Joyless Moralist, commenting on a recent post, brought up a passage from the Gospel of Luke which some have found troubling.  Jesus is speaking, at the time when He is sending out His apostles to preach the Gospel the first time-- not after the Resurrection, but while He is still alive.  In cities that receive them with joy, they are to heal the sick and say 'The kingdom of God has come near you.'  But:

whatever city you enter, and they do not receive you, go out into the streets and say, 'The very dust of your city which clings to us we wipe off against you. Nevertheless know this, that the kingdom of God has come near you.' But I say to you that it will be more tolerable that Day [meaning the Day of Judgment?] for Sodom [a notoriously wicked city from the Old Testament which was destroyed by the wrath of God after its inhabitants tried to gang-rape three travelers, among other sins] than for that city.

Woe to you, Chorazin! Woe to you, Bethsaida! For if the mighty works which were done in you had been done in Tyre and Sidon, they would have repented long ago, sitting in sackcloth and ashes. But it will be more tolerable for Tyre and Sidon at the judgment than for you. And you, Capernaum, who are exalted to heaven, will be brought down to Hades. (Luke 10: 10-15)

How is all this consistent with God's justice, let alone His mercy?  Surely a merciful God would not desire to bring cities down to "Hades" (which I think is the same as the Jewish Sheol, and perhaps as the Christian Hell; I don't know the relationship between Hades, Sheol, and the "fiery gehenna" and "outer darkness" mentioned elsewhere).  And on what grounds would a just God punish cities which merely declined to receive certain itinerant preachers, or which did not regard the occurrence of certain miracles as an inducement to change their lifestyles?

But this may the wrong question.  For does Jesus actually curse or merely predict?  The "woe to you" sounds a bit like a curse, but can be read, I think, as a sorrowful prediction of the consequences of their failure to repent (of actions which they knew by conscience, and not merely by revelation, were evil, even if they had lost their awareness of it to some extent through the dulling effect of sin on conscience).  And indeed, without Christ, who of us is not destined to be "brought down to Hades" in due course?