The most a human can be

Humanism is often today associated with atheism, perhaps in part because it rejects practices typical of many religions and part because many non-religious individuals adhere to its principles. Humanistic psychology is even at odds with other branches of psychology, claiming a special spot for mankind as purpose-driven creatures that are (usually) distinct from animals. I associate Carl Rogers, and most humanistic psychology, with restoration because of the optimistic views of humankind he held as self-actualizing beings.

The concept of the restoration in Christianity branches into a few different beliefs. Some believe it will be done almost entirely by God, and that we will be snatched away by a Rapture when the time comes. Other believe that it will be done primarily by humans on God’s behalf, with varying degrees of help. Humanistic psychology would tend, of course, to get along more with the later view. However, while Rogers might see an individual quest for each person, the Christian metanarrative sees a more broad, communal effort toward a final goal. Heaven, or a restored Earth, is something that we will reap together, rather than each entering a personal heaven.

Humanistic psychologists were also often existentialists, and therefore put a lot of emphasis on confronting death. Many of them would say that the Christian promise of eternal life is nothing more than denial and refusal to accept death as an inevitable consequence. For some individuals, this may be true. Some very difficult questions like the purpose of suffering are disregarded by some, who say things like “Well, I’ll just have to ask God when I get to heaven!” Even Jesus had to confront his own death, however. An atheist friend of mine once brought up a point that stuck with me for years. “What kind of sacrifice,” he asked, “is it to give your live when you know you’re going to come back from the dead 2 days later?” And he’s not wrong. Most people disregard Jesus’ intense prayer and fear at Gethsemane as his anticipation of the pain, not death. Perhaps, however, somewhere in the head of Jesus, who was both 100% man and 100% God, he only mostly, or only intellectually knew that he was going to die.

After all, for the claim that Jesus was entirely human to be true, he had to have experienced the fear of a permanent death. If this is true, than the existentialist claim that we must all confront death does not threaten our Christian faith, but rather gives us a new way to think about our fragile humanity. Fear need not be entirely rational. Sometimes it simply “is.”