The Eternal Present
Reflections on "Pierced by Love" by Hans Boersma.
In Fr. Hans Boersma’s most recent book entitled Pierced by Love, he had a brief discussion on the elusive nature of the present (attentio) (pp. 59-69). I found this section of the book to be particularly profound and thought-provoking. The argument—in simplified form—goes like this: because time is moving at an unstoppable and consistent rate, we can only perceive the passage of time (in any meaningful sense) through the means of past and future. Our ability to be attentive to any given moment, therefore, is practically impossible given the unstoppable motion of time. As soon as we try to abide or find rest in the present, that “present” moment has moved from expectation to memory. This makes the idea of abiding in the present extremely elusive. Fr. Boersma states the dilemma best:
“How, then, [when thinking about this dilemma] can we possibly pay attention? Doesn’t the nature of time imply that we experience an inescapable distension (distentio) back and forth between past and future, memory and expectation, without ever landing anywhere?…if we cannot ever reach the stability of home, will we always be distracted by the multiple images of memory and expectation darting through our mind? Are we the hapless victims of impressions that force themselves on us in our pilgrim wanderings?” (Pierced by Love, p.63).
This dilemma, when considered with any amount of intentionality, can drive a sane man mad. As you begin to note the passage of time more consciously, there is almost an overwhelming fear that rises up from within—a fear rooted in the inability to stop it; to slow it down; to find rest in the present.
Fr. Boersma’s solution to this dilemma is largely focused on his thesis of lectio divina, and while that obviously has a role in this discussion, I, personally, want to consider the more expansive practical theological implications of this dilemma. In particular, I am curious to explore the way in which this dilemma (unconscious as it is in the human mind) impacts the way in which humanity as a whole moves through time. How does the fact that true rest is lost on the world impact the actions, motivations, and health of humanity?
Considering that everyone and everything is in a constant state of motion, moving to achieve, accomplish, become, etc, it becomes clear (at least to me) that this constant motion is aimed at something; namely abiding rest. We work five days of the week in anticipation of the weekend when we can rest from our labors. This feels good; it feels right. However, as soon as the sun dips below the horizon on Sunday evening, we are left with the realization that Monday is upon us yet again; our striving continues. Despite constant economic growth, expansion, and pursuit, no one ends up with lasting rest. Time beats the war drum of perpetual motion.
When, after our striving, we achieve a desired end, it isn’t long before the joy of that moment is gone and dissatisfaction sets in. I believe this is due to the fact that no matter how great our achievement is, it quickly becomes a past accomplishment. Time steals the present, leaving us alone to once again look into the darkness and ambiguity of the future. It does not abide. Time, the merciless beast that it is, steals rest from us no matter how hard we work to achieve it. This is the cyclical pattern of human experience. We want to abide in the present; we seek to achieve things that will lead to rest; but the passage of time dictates that we can only move from expectation to memory with no way to stop and breathe. Thus, we cannot but continue our steady march to the grave.
“Who shall deliver me from the body of this death?” (KJV Rom. 7:24b).
Reflecting on Andrea Nightingale’s appraisal of St. Augustine on time, Fr. Boersma writes,
“We live in a fallen world, which means that we are in exile. Only since the fall do we experience time. Being temporalized means being removed from the eternity of God. We undergo two profound consequences of temporal exile. First, our mind is stretched or distended from past to future, from memory to expectation…Everything we experience in the mind moves from past to future. Nothing is ever stable in the present. Temporal existence, for Augustine, means instability. Second, natural organisms experience aging as they move from birth to death” (Pierced by Love, pp.60-61).
This quotation ultimately roots the source of this dilemma in the fall—an important point—but beyond that, it also points to the fact that it was not always this way. This is of profound significance. At one point, the passage of time—as humanity perceived it—was consumed by participation in the eternity of God. This participation in God’s eternity enabled what humanity seeks: true abiding rest. In Eden, temporal events were fully subordinate to the eternity in which they participated. The incarnation of Jesus Christ is the reunification of this reality. The Eternal entered into the temporal so that the temporal might once again find unification with the Eternal. The entire sacramental life of the Church is built upon this belief. Our humanity is being called up into divinity that we might find abiding rest (attentio).
As I have explored this subject in my own mind, I have become convinced—both by Boersma and my own pondering—that despite the limitations of our mortal flesh which does not yet possess in fullness the reality to which Christ invites us, Christians do have the ability to participate in the divine nature. This participation enables us to find true rest now through participation in the eternity of God. To begin explaining how this is possible, we must acknowledge the truth of this claim based on the words of Christ himself.
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls” (Matt. 11:28-29).
Many of us recognize this text, but do we really seek to consider what Jesus is promising here? Is he simply promising an extended weekend away from work? Or are we being faced with an invitation into something far deeper and far more profound? It is my conviction that Christ is doing nothing less than inviting humanity back into the eternity of God. This invitation enables temporal events to once again become subordinate to the eternity of God. Furthermore, this invitation takes human existence, temporal as it is, and brings it into eternal participation. Another way to say the same thing: our motion is no longer purely movement from past to future, it becomes a movement from one degree of glory to another—the contemplation of God’s unchanging eternity and fellowship in that. In Christ, our attention finally has an objective grounding, not subject to the passage of time. The fact of God’s immutability enables a kind of temporal override that, through Christ, humanity is able to enter into objectively.
As a brief aside, people—especially evangelicals—often make the mistake of assuming that the classical articulation of immutability or divine simplicity (that God is not made up of parts) means that God is a frozen, static being that is nothing at all like his creatures who express things like joy, sorrow, and the entire range of human emotions. If God is pure act, unchanging, not subject to passions or emotion, does this not imply something more akin to an impersonal creative force rather than a personal Creator? Quite the contrary. The classical articulation of God actually brings the concepts discussed here together in a coherent—yet incomprehensible—fashion. It is not that God is frozen, for that image implies an object or reality stopped in relation to time or motion. Since God is not within time, the idea of “frozen” or “static” fails to truly account for what eternity actually means. Eternity, at its core, is not “never-ending time,” since that implies motion. Rather, eternity is simply a way to express God’s “isness.” Eternity is Being in which existence and essence are the same. This “isness” is so far beyond our temporal experience where existence and essence are distinct, that we cannot come close to conceptually understanding what this actually means. Whereas we find ourselves constantly moving, tossed to and fro like the waves of the sea, God is like the land—firm, steady, and not subject to the movement of the turbulent waters. The water knows nothing of the land. The two are distinct in every way imaginable. Now, obviously, this analogy falls short because God is far more of everything land is and water isn’t, but it at least communicates that the static nature of God which immutability and simplicity seem to communicate is actually just our inability to comprehend eternity. Things in motion can’t comprehend non-motion without thinking of it in relation to time. But God is so far beyond time that what we perceive as “static" is simply boundless, incomprehensible being. Time cannot contain the magnitude of God’s being. “God’s eternity is not everlasting boredom; it is fullness of action—actus purus, Aquinas would say” (Pierced by Love, p.68). Thus any critique of the classical doctrine of God falls short due to a misunderstanding of the categories being used.
If Christ calls us to enter into his rest (eternity), how do we do this in any meaningful sense? As Christians, we still find ourselves subject to the harsh reality of time. Moments that we desire to enjoy pass us by before we can even acknowledge them as present before us. I will argue that the rest in which we are invited cannot be enjoyed apart from a robust sacramental theology that is always rooted in the incarnation. In commenting further on St. Augustine’s theology, Fr. Boersma writes that
“for Augustine, God’s incarnation in Christ opens up the vertical dimension that allows us to reach beyond the horizontal unfolding of temporal events. Christ connects us to the God who is beyond time. When in our reading of the Scriptures [and other sacraments] we attend to Christ, by implication we contemplate the eternal now of God himself” (Pierced by Love, p.66, emphasis added).
This idea is simple in theory but difficult in practice. What does it mean to “attend to Christ” and how does this simple attendance lead to a partaking in eternity that orients our relationship to temporal time rightly? To answer this, I want to focus on the chief sacrament: the Holy Communion of Christ’s Body and Blood. We have often heard that in the celebration of the Eucharist, heaven and earth are united. This is true, of course, but the Eucharist doesn’t simply unite heaven and earth, it also unites the past, present, and future in one eternal moment. This is why we can confidently proclaim that we sing “joining our voices with Angels and Archangels and with all the company of heaven, who forever sing this hymn to proclaim the glory of your name” (The Book of Common Prayer 132; emphasis added). At each Mass, all moments of history are joined together. It isn’t simply a “nice thought” to suggest that we stand in worship with the saints and patriarchs of all time. It is an actual objective reality. This miracle is possible because the horizontal ever moving timeline of this life enters into the vertical eternality of the Word. This sacramental participation enables temporal reality to enter into eternal reality. The incarnation makes this possible. It is only through the Eternal Word that our steady march toward death can be transformed into eternal rest.
As I think about these things, I am compelled to suggest that human participation in God’s eternity, even in the consummate regeneration, does not require the absence of time—for it seems that even prior to the fall, events had a temporal succession. Rather, it is that time participates so fully in the eternity of God that our experience of the temporal is always mediated by the eternal—a perpetual state of attentio: abiding contemplation of God. Fr. Boersma succinctly summarizes God’s dwelling as being in “the eternal present” (Pierced by Love, p.69). This eternal present is accessible to us creatures through sacramental participation. As expressed above, the Eucharist is this union of all time in a moment. It is easy to think about this as time standing still, but a better way to think about it (in my opinion) is time being properly subordinated to God’s eternity.
When we, temporal creatures, recognize and orient our attention to this eternal present, our souls will partake in the rest Christ promised. However, because orienting our attention is a difficult and very intentional task, it will consume our lives, including our time. But what better way to use our temporal existence other than to participate in eternity now? This pursuit is not futile like other temporal pursuits. That which we seek to be attentive to really does bring us true rest; it really does satisfy the soul. It takes our mortal bodies and brings them into communion with immortality. This is why some saints, towards the ends of their lives, radiate the glory of God. This is why Moses came down from Sinai too bright to behold. This is the objective fruit of using our time to enter eternity. As we become more attentive to the eternal present, the division between heaven and earth will become more difficult to see. We desire our temporal existence to be consumed by the eternity of God so that we might see his face.
This pursuit and sacramental reality really draws out the beauty and importance of the spiritual disciplines of prayer, fasting, and dedicated periods of solitude. All of these things have the tendency to be reduced to acts of religious piety when in reality they are actions—motion—towards the goal of sacramental participation and contemplation. For example, the reason Christians traditionally fast prior to reception of the Eucharist is not in order to earn brownie points with God, but rather to take intentional time to orient attention towards eternity in hopes that we can more readily glimpse it and experience the rest the Lord offers. We can never escape movement through time, but we can orient our attention towards the eternal now so that the rest we partake in is true rest, and not counterfeit.
In closing, instead of dread while thinking about the passage of time, may it bring us joy that in the temporal movement of this creation, God saw it fit to enter into the world through the incarnation of Christ, thus giving us—through Christ!—the ability to sacramentally partake of his eternity even now.
“Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith” (Heb. 12:1-2a). For, as we run, when we fix our eyes on Christ—when we contemplate him—his eternity gives us the ability to run from a place of true rest—a foretaste of the world to come where the eternal now will forever be our dwelling.
Works Cited:
Boersma, Hans. Pierced by Love: Divine Reading with the Christian Tradition. Lexham Press, 2023.
The Book of Common Prayer. Anglican House Publishers, 2019.
The Holy Bible. King James Version. Logos Research Systems, Inc., 2009.