Can We Have Christianity Without the Miracles? (Orthodoxy IX)

That’ll Preach

We wrap up our series on Chesterton's classic Orthodoxy by exploring the common arguments against Christianity. Chesterton does not argue from a standard apologetics approach, but instead utilizes common sense to show how our faith in Christianity rests not upon one "slam dunk" argument, but rather the accumulation of a thousand little pieces of evidences. He also challenges common agnostic/atheistic assumptions that men exist as nothing more than animals, religions comes from dark and ignorant times, and Christianity turns everything gloomy and repressed. On the contrary, Chesterton argues that Christianity rightly identifies the uniqueness of man, emerged at the height of the Roman Empire, and provides the conditions for people to sing, dance, and enjoy the pleasures of life without running off a cliff. We also examine Chesterton's suspicion that Jesus's greatest secret lay not in his power, but his joy.

"If I am asked, as a purely intellectual question, why I believe in Christianity, I can only answer, “For the same reason that an intelligent agnostic disbelieves in Christianity.” I believe in it quite rationally upon the evidence."

"Somehow or other an extraordinary idea has arisen that the disbelievers in miracles consider them coldly and fairly, while believers in miracles accept them only in connection with some dogma. The fact is quite the other way. The believers in miracles accept them (rightly or wrongly) because they have evidence for them. The disbelievers in miracles deny them (rightly or wrongly) because they have a doctrine against them."

"The Stoics, ancient and modern, were proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far sight of His native city. Yet He concealed something. Solemn supermen and imperial diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. He never restrained His anger. He flung furniture down the front steps of the Temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. Yet He restrained something. I say it with reverence; there was in that shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or impetuous isolation. There was some one thing that was too great for God to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied that it was His mirth."