Great Souls

In Lord Richard Attenborough's film, Gandhi, there is a remarkable scene that takes place toward the end of the Great Soul's days, as terrorists responsible for the violence in Calcutta and other regions of India come to him to lay down their weapons at his bed, determined not to continue their violent ways and so cause Gandhi to perish by fasting unto death. An angry Hindu man rushes to the bedside and shoves bread into the Mahatma's face, demanding he eat. The man refuses to have Gandhi's death on his conscience. He confesses he is damned and tells of recently killing a Muslim child. Still very weak from his fast, Gandhi says to the distraught man, "I know a way out of hell." He tells the man to go, find an orphaned Muslim child, and adopt him as his own son. "But," Gandhi tells the man, "you must be careful to raise him as a Muslim." The man is shocked - so would any of us be who translated this scene into our own lives. All my Western Christian brain could think at that moment was, "But the child would be Muslim. And the man is still Hindu. They're both going to hell."

Why do great souls like Gandhi, Buddha, and Rabbi Abraham Heschel go to hell, after all they have done to direct humanity away from selfishness and into the recognition of the transcendent, transforming love of God? The obvious answer - the answer I grew up with - is that this has nothing to do with what they did in life. What they did was highly commendable, but Ephesians 2:8-9 blares out the truth all the same, "For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God; not as a result of works, so that no one may boast." As Christians, especially as Protestants, we hold to this truth with an iron fist. We clarify it as meaning one thing: there is nothing we can do to earn salvation. However, what is remarkably absent from this true and wonderful statement is the "way" that we can find salvation. Christians today inject a doctrine after this verse, and it normally takes the form of praying for the forgiveness of all your sins and accepting Jesus' death on the cross as the atoning sacrifice that covers us from the consequence of sin, which is death. I am not denying this doctrine. I am questioning its placement and its form.

Ephesians 2:8-9 rejects the idea of earning salvation by living in such a way as to impress God. In reality, salvation comes only as a free gift, bestowed upon all whom he chooses to save, no strings attached, no prerequisites required. However, the Church has established a prerequisite of its own - the salvation prayer. Though the original form of this prayer was of complete supplication, complete rejection of all worth and merit, it has become a "work" of its own. If you don't "do" it, you don't get in to Heaven. It has become the initial hurdle to leap over as you "run the race" (1st Cor. 9:24).

What is the salvation prayer supposed to be? Is it only poignant words prayed that hold sway over your life throughout all your days? Or is it the expression of a change of heart that takes place allowing us to expel the things of this world in eager expectation of the things to come? Is it vainly seeking rescue from Hell (as it was with me at the fearful age of 8)? Or is it praying the theme of a life given over in humility to a great and gracious God?



I look at the life of Gandhi and Rabbi Heschel and other great figures whom we assume never "acquired the faith" and therefore shall spend eternity in torment. Maybe so. But if the way a life is lived is to be any proof of the desires of one's heart and the passion of one's soul, Gandhi is truly redeemed, whether he mumbled a sinner's prayer or not. And we ... we are damned. I worry about whether or not I will find a job in Houston once I graduate? Gandhi worried about the masses of Untouchable's littering the streets of the cities of India. Much of the quiet moments of thinking during my day is focused on my future with Leigh, where we might live, what the future holds for us. Gandhi's quiet moments were spent considering new ways to unite all the people of his country in love and mutual respect, across even violent religious lines. I sweat over how I might prove myself a talented writer and an innovative minister. Gandhi calmly spent his time praying and weaving his own clothes. I occasionally erupt into anger when I want to be recognized as right. Gandhi softly said, "An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind."

Who is truly humbled before God? Who is truly saved?

Thank you, God, that there is never-ending grace. I cannot earn it, and nothing I offer can ever affect it, even the most soul-stirring of prayers.