The fitra; or "Christ is our memory" (with an appearance from Dietrich Bonhoeffer)
Interlude
In Secretes of Divine Love: A Spiritual Journey into the Heart of Islam A. Helwa describes fitra—an Arabic word meaning “the primordial essence” (and what Christians may call “the image of God”)—as:
“… the innate disposition to believe in God, worship Him, and believe in His oneness. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said that all children are born with the inclination to worship God and live a life in surrender to the Divine. If left alone, a child’s natural inclination to believe in God will continually manifest. When someone follows a path rejecting divine love and instigating evil, it is not as a result of his nature but because of the influence of his parents or the environment in which he was raised." (p. 37)
She continues: “… the root problem of humanity is forgetfulness of our innate goodness (fitra) and pre-eternal connection to the divine love of God.” (p. 45) The call of humanity, then, is to remember: “Remembrance is not just a return to God, it is a return to the essence of who you are.” (p. 64) This line, especially, reminded me of an episode of Rob Bell’s RobCast from years ago.1 In the podcast, John Philip Newell paraphrased medieval Celtic theologian John Scotus Eriugena by suggesting that Christ is our “memory”—reminding us of what it means to be human.
In his book Christ of the Celts: The Healing of Creation, Newell writes:
“One of the greatest teachers in the Celtic world, John Scotus Eriugena in nineth-century Ireland, also taught that Christ is our memory. We suffer from the ‘soul’s forgetfullness,’ he says. Christ comes to reawaken our true nature. He is our epiphany. He comes to show us the face of God. He comes to show us also our face, the true face of the human soul.” (p. 30)
This image has always stuck with me. The life, death, and resurrection of Jesus isn’t part of some complex theory of atonement. It’s (just) a reminder. A reminder that being human means being like Jesus. That being human means loving and caring for one another. Jesus reminds us of our fitra.
Some Christian doctrines (i.e. original sin and total depravity) won’t harmonize well with this idea of the fitra or “Christ as our memory.” Both Eriugena and the Sufi mystics quoted throughout Helwa’s book (as well as many other religious—including Christian—traditions) claim that God can be found deep within ourselves. We may have to do some digging, since sin (or whatever you want to call the negative consequences of human free will) may block our way, but the fitra insists that we’re inherently good. Contrary doctrines insist that we are fundamentally evil and God can only be found outside ourselves. I’m not into those doctrines anymore. Regardless of any potential value, they’ve been (mis)used by too many folks with injurious consequences. So the idea that the spiritual life may be equated with remembrance and finding God within ourselves is welcome one.
And it’s satisfying because it means that it’s accessible to all. Spiritual truth isn’t some esoteric secret available only to those who think, pray, look, or worship a certain way. We’re all in on it. We can all remember. Helwa writes in her introduction:
“Although this book is about Islamic spirituality and practices, I believe God is bigger than any one religion or philosophy. I choose Islam as my faith, but I offer you these words from the Qur’an not to judge you, but to remind you how much you are loved by God. I believe that just as wisdom teachings from other faiths have enriched my relationship with God, the deeper dimensions of Islam may also inspire you, regardless of what path you choose to walk. I pray these words awaken your heart to fall deeper in love with Allah, God, Elohim, Yahweh or whatever you choose to call the supreme eternal Being, who has infinite names, but only one essence.” (p. XIX)
One doesn’t need to be part of an exclusive group to participate in this type of remembrance. According to Islam, the fitra is common to all people, just as Judaism and Christianity claim that all are created in the image of God. And while many forms of all three faiths require adherence to specific beliefs and practices as “proof” of legitimacy, I’m no longer convinced of those necessities. And I wonder if this is what Dietrich Bonhoeffer was thinking when he wrote this from prison:
“I often wonder why my ‘Christian instinct’ frequently draws me more toward nonreligious people than toward the religious, and I am sure it’s not with missionary intent; instead, I’d almost call it a ‘brotherly’ instinct. While I’m often reluctant to name the name of God to religious people—because somehow it doesn’t ring true for me there, and I feel a bit dishonest saying it (it’s especially bad when other people start talking in religious terminology; then I clam up almost completely and feel somehow uncomfortable and in a sweat)—yet on some occasions with nonreligious people I can speak God’s name quite calmly, as a matter of course.” (p. 366)2
This is in the section where he describes his (in)famous concept of “religionless Christianity.” A lot has been said (by folks more qualified than me) about what he means by this idea. And unfortunately he didn’t get to explain himself as fully as I’m sure he would have liked as he was executed shortly thereafter. But for a highly educated theologian who criticized the lamentable state of American theological education and wrote dozens of academic works it’s curious that he would “clam up almost completely and feel somehow uncomfortable” when conversing with folks who used “religious terminology.” It certainly wouldn’t have been because he couldn’t keep up. He was (overly) familiar with the use of religious language. It was part of his life’s work. I wonder if, like so many of us who have deconstructed, the words became triggering. I wonder if his theological worldview was starting to feel too narrow by this time and he preferred connecting with folks on a human level as opposed to a strictly religious one. He even seems concerned that religion may be—or at least may come to be seen as—“a historically conditioned and transitory form of human expression.” (p. 363)
Speaking on behalf of Christians, part of his solution suggests that Christians of this new era shouldn’t “[understand] ourselves religiously as privileged, but instead [see] ourselves as belonging wholly to the world.” (p. 364) The uniqueness of Christianity would no longer be rooted in or confined to physical sacred spaces, ritual, or doctrine, but rather in memory and praxis taking form in the “world.” I know I’m projecting a lot here (and could be way off!), but I’d like to think Bonhoeffer was deconstructing. Maybe he was just being pragmatic, but perhaps he was questioning the necessity of systematic theology in religious life. That in a world of less explicit religious belief and ritual, “Christ as our memory” might be enough.
Or course maybe this wasn’t on his mind at all. Maybe he was just rambling. And maybe this recent connection I found between Islamic spirituality and medieval Celtic Christianity isn’t that big of a deal for most people. But I enjoy finding points of consensus between spiritual traditions. And this one reveals that our spiritual calling, whether we’re Muslim, Christian, or neither is to look deep within ourselves and remember our inherit goodness and worth. And I think that’s a spiritual practice worth pursuing.
I think it’s probably this one, although I haven’t verified: https://robbell.podbean.com/e/episode-133-live-robcast-with-john-philip-newell/
All Bonhoeffer quotes are from the Fortress Press edition of his Letters and Papers from Prison.
Lovely! This reminds me of the story of the Buddha saying that he is not a saint or a god, but that he is awake - awakened from the illusions of ego and personality into the truth of his being.