The Substance of things Hoped For

I mentioned in my last post that I am struggling with the final chapter of a manuscript titled Christ the Commodity. A close friend gave me a gentle tongue lashing about why death was not the end. This is surely the case in one of my favorite texts, First Corinthians chapters 1-2, where Saint Paul counts the foolishness of the Cross wiser than the wisdom that scoffs it. What happens when God dies? In that case, God’s intention is τὰ µὴ ὄντα, ἵνα τὰ ὄντα καταργήσῃ, to bring to nothing the things that are through the things that are not.

But reflecting on this passage led me to another. Ἔστιν δὲ πίστις ἐλπιζοµένων ὑπόστασις, πραγµάτων ἔλεγχος οὐ βλεποµένων. Hebrews 11:1. Which brings me to the substance (ὑπόστασις) of things hoped for, the evidence (ἔλεγχος) of things not seen.

The Christian argument for hope is not against evidence. It is not Kierkegaardian. It is not romantic. But nor was it a prefiguration of class analysis.

God is in the god-forsaken. That is where God is.

If one believes, as Christians must believe, that God does not abandon what God has created, it follows that we find God in what is dying. We find God at the Cross.

But, I am trying to think the social logic that leads to resurrection. And that is where I am stumped. I get it in Rome. The resistance to Roman occupation, the movement Jesus joined, with John and others, was eager to build up martyrs. Martyrs helped their cause. But translating this meme into the 21st century is taxing me.

I grasp all of the negative dialectical themes. Death is life. Death is the passage, not the wall.

But, I am actually thinking pragmatically about social action, legislation, and what leads us from abstract value to substantive value. I’m stumped.

Hope

Two hundred pages in, I find myself at a loss for words. Most of the readers of this blog can recite the argument up until this point by heart.

  • From the 12th through the 13th century the Chinese escapement made its way into the Benedictine communities of Europe;
  • In 1324, the abbot of the Saint Pierre, in Ghent, directed his fullers to move the clock from the chapel to the workhouse;
  • The value of the textiles in the parish of Saint Jean were, from this point forward, measured in equal units of abstract time;
  • All parishes soon adopt the policy of the parish of Saint Jean;
  • The values of all goods throughout Europe quickly come to be measured in equal units of abstract time;
  • If value is abstract and immaterial, then what is the value of the Body of the Lord?
  • From the quattrocento through the 16th, the spiritual value of materiality comes into question;
  • In the 16th century it is determined that Nicaea and Chalcedon are null and void — the Body of Christ is not divine;
  • Navels are removed from icons; Mary’s breasts are exaggerated or removed; the crucified Jesus is brutalized; the risen Jesus is androgenized (secondary sexual characteristics removed);
  • Faith is rendered immaterial: Kant, Hegel, Marx.

Christ the commodity was born when Christians in large numbers could no longer fathom how “without confusion, without change, without division, without separation” (Chalcedon, 451 CE) Jesus Christ was both “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God” and “true Man” (Nicaea, 324 CE). They could no longer fathom divine materiality. In this moment, Christ became a commodity, subject to the same social forces that shape all commodities and their value.

In summary chapters 2-6 document the expansion of Christ the commodity. Insofar as a commodity is a surface form of appearance whose value arises from its abstract value form, chapters 2-6 document how Christ the commodity comes to occupy the center, the core, of imperial expansion, ethno-religious nationalism, racism, sexism, and officially-sanctioned mass death. Anyone the least familiar with the New Testament will recognize how preposterous this association is. But when, in commodity societies, the Body of Christ is isolated and separated from his value form, it quickly becomes possible and necessary to fetishize the “Body of Christ” and endow it with the abstract value form of the commodity.

It is the last chapter that has me stumped. In Marx’s reading, crisis arises from the disparity between surface form and underlying value form. This is most clearly represented to us today in the climate crisis. Abstract value pulls away from its material form of appearance. And, yet, insofar as abstract value governs social relationships, we are ill-equipped to grasp, much less resolve, the climate crisis. Abstract value dominates us. For Marx the solution to this problem entails decoupling abstract labor from abstract value; essentially turning the clock back to 1323. Value does not need to be calibrated to equal units of abstract time expended. For 2.4 million years value was understood in a wide variety of different ways. Now, however, as we near the end of the story, how do we move from crisis — the ever-widening gulf between surface form and value form — to emancipatory practice?

For Christians the stakes could not be higher. They are nothing less than Nicaea and Chalcedonian Christology. This should be a cake-walk. And, yet, because the vast majority of Christians serve Christ the commodity, most Christians will fight to the death to defeat the Christ attested to at Nicaea and Chalcedon. Which makes chapter 7 a very sad story.

I need some help here. Where is hope?