Joseph Haroutunian wrote in 1944, "Modem theology shows a profound indifference to the glory of God. It is inspired rather by a passion for the well-being of man." The situation today is scarcely different. The notion of the glory of God, as something to be promoted and not merely assumed, appears to constitute something of an embarrassment to certain strands of contemporary thought. Particularly since the technological advances of the nineteenth century, but actually reaching back much beyond, there has emerged a concern for strategizing with regard to the human future, in the confidence that the "good life" is at least in principle possible to provide. No one would seriously contend, of course, that the future is in any sense automatically assured; but with several variants the view is powerful that human striving is of all things most noble.

By its own standards not a religion, Marxism stands as a representative of this position. It is possible to contribute to a viable future by engaging in the historical class struggle, a struggle grounded in a philosophy of social process. Classical capitalism, different from Marxism in most details, stands in a similar posture regarding human striving. Since there is a logic to the world's social and economic history, it is possible to provide for a decent future by conforming to the laws of world process. At least a portion of third world liberation thought also makes much of the human element in assuring the future. In a sense, "assure" is too strong a word, since the emphasis here is not so much on a historical process with which human efforts can be identified, but on an "open" future that can be used in the interest of human striving and development. Nevertheless, within the individual there resides a potential for continued growth and flowering, and in a world where the "fall" was not ultimate the emphasis must be on what people can do for themselves.

In this context, there seems to be less and less room for a theology of the glorification of God, which would turn human attention from the strategizing tasks at hand, endowing human striving with an even more transitory character than it often appears to have anyway. In brief, there is the lurking suspicion that God's glory is related to his jealousy: that just as man and woman were put out of the garden to prevent their becoming like gods, so the glorification of God is intended to keep humankind consciously inferior, unwilling to take the risk of maturity and fulfilment. Uncertain of their capacity to use freedom creatively and well, they rest back in submissiveness and resignation. "Our doubts are traitors; they make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt." It is no wonder, then, that rather little now is said for the glory of God as a useful concept in handling the concerns of modern theology.

It is quite possible that. the death of God (or the decline of God or the eclipse of God, depending upon one's preference for metaphors), at least in its classical formulations, should be understood along these lines. Clearly the theologians who proclaimed God's passing were not simultaneously declaring their own profession to have lost its validity. Rather, they announced the end, at least as a working hypothesis (Bonhoeffer), of a transcendent deity, one with an existence and with expectations distinct from the world of human affairs. Curiously, it was precisely such a deity that continued to attract the interest of many philosophers, who felt that the issue of transcendence still remained crucial for religious thought. Thus Alasdair MacIntyre was motivated to write in reaction to Honest to God, "What is striking about Dr Robinson's book is first and foremost that he is an atheist... (albeit) a very conservative atheist... He devotes a good deal of his space to attacking the notion of a being 'out there'." Nonetheless, the departure of the God of transcendence continued to inspire devotees, as Professor Lochman has made clear in his Zabriskie Lectures, particularly those who believed that the pressing needs of humankind could better be served by making them the center of attention.

Although MacIntyre was rightly surprised by the apparently atheistic stance of the Bishop of Woolwich, he should not have been astonished by Robinson's abiding concern for worship and the religious life. As the sociologists of knowledge have reminded us, the world is in every way a confusing and unsettling place. Even if absolute truth, assuming its availability, were to be planted in our midst, it soon would become ambiguous and doubtful, and considerable effort would be required to maintain confidence in its reliability. Thus, an essential part of the plausibility structure of any approach to reality is some provision to inspire and maintain confidence that the whole operation is true and worthwhile. It is just such a purpose that the rites and sacraments of religion are able to serve. Without pressing the point unduly, one might risk the suggestion that liturgical emphases sometimes stand in an inverse relationship to the substantive claims of a religious system: the more unlikely the claims, from whatever assumptive context, the greater the effort required to render them believable.

The lesson to be-learned here is that however thoroughly the transcendent God may have been displaced by the religion of humanity, the old theme of the glory of God still abides. Generalized commitments may be made to the good of the human community, to the assurance of a rich and rewarding present and future, but these commitments do not resolve the ambiguities attending both means and ends. There simply is no agreement on what life and society ought to be, and history inspires little confidence that a consensus could be close at hand.

Quality of life

Let us look, for example, at the meaning of "quality of life" as it relates to a human future. We may assume that human life of any quality should include a place to live and enough to eat, and probably those who write on the subject assume that these things obviously are possible. This was not the assumption of the ancient world, and whether we should make it as an assumption now at least deserves some reflection. I suspect, however, that persons who write about the quality of life do not really have such basic values in mind at all, but are essentially concerned about the higher values. Unfortunately, this is an area for imperialism of the highest order, since there probably is an enormous range of disagreement over what really makes life worthwhile. It may be that the divine purpose is for the world to respect the divergent views of quality, and to make room for them all, but this is not much different from saying that the present brand of pluralism, that even now is making a cohesive society difficult, is to be honoured more and more. The fact of the matter is that we are hung up on the problem of the one and the many, the society and the individual, and have not resolved it. The Bible probably comes out on the side of the society, but this requires some abdication of the right of free choice and free determination, and freedom has been so praised in the western world that in some schools of thought truly moral action is impossible without it. It may be that the glory of God will somehow imply that we can have things both ways, but I am inclined to think that this would be sleight of hand. In short, we can affirm that people receive their identity in Jesus Christ, but this is just the beginning. What that implies is troublesome, as it was to St. Paul and to the churches he addressed, and unlike the Red Chinese we probably do not want to opt for some social possibilities over others. Hence, there are many things we would like to say about quality of life, but it is not clear just how much they are theologically grounded and how much they express merely personal preference.

Nonetheless, devotion to human progress also requires devotion to some working conception of what progress is all about, and this in turn is dependent upon some devices for maintaining the plausibility of the approach. In human terms, this is the process of glorification. In the Old Testament, glory was demanded exclusively for the Lord. He alone was able to hold the world together and provide the knowledge by which the affairs of humanity could be regulated ( cf. Deuteronomy 4:6 ff). By constantly emphasizing the glory of God, credibility also passed to the divine promises and commandments, neither of which possessed transparent validity in a society of alternative persuasions and claims.

As the history of Marxism has made clear, commitments to changing and improving the world - if they are to have more than passing power - must be undergirded by at least quasi-religious allegiances. If the historical process cannot be trusted to move to the classless society, particularly when all present signs are not reassuring, then why press on with the class struggle? Much depends, therefore, upon maintaining confidence in the truth of the historical claims. Dynamically speaking, the reinforcement of the claims - upon which the enterprise of human betterment depends - is equivalent to the glorification of God in more traditional religious practice.

What we have said, therefore, is that the theme of God's glory, although not verbally in evidence in much of the new humanism, still lurks below the surface as an essential ingredient in any commitment structure. Within the circles more commonly regarded as Christian, where there has been a movement away from the glorification of God as a transcendent other, the displacement seems to have been toward the divine attributes. Dr Robinson, in an attitude typical of middle class people today, was attracted by the principle of love, and he appeared quite willing to attach most of the traditional religious practices to this new focus of devotion. Several of the minority communities have taken the other side of the dichotomy, and have glorified the Lord under the name of justice. As we have indicated, current emphases in the third world are on deliverance from oppression, wherein God is the redeemer who brings people to their true selves as free and creative beings. There is, of course, good warrant in the Bible and in the tradition for all of these approaches, and for others as well. As Barth sought to emphasise in his section on the "Eternity and Glory of God" (II/I, 608ff), neither the biblical witness nor the tradition puts God exclusively "out there"; there is always the dimension of Deus pro nobis. He reveals his glory in his works of justice and redemption and love, and he is glorified when those works are emulated for the world to see. "Let your light so shine before men and women, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in heaven."

What we may conclude, therefore, is that there has been some modest rescue of the glory of God in the process of affirming the world and the prospects for human future in it. As the parable indicates, it is possible to honor God by doing his works after him, even though there may be no open acknowledgement - or even realization - of what is transpiring. Indeed, there surely are those who believe that since all we know of God is that which is directed toward us and our salvation, he is glorified only in the process of living the life of Jesus. Unfortunately, this approach represents a rather one-sided reading of the biblical record, and it is to the other side that we now may turn.

Along with the gloria pro nobis, of which we have spoken, there still remains in the biblical witness a glory that pertains to God in himself, who is worthy of supreme recognition simply for what he is. This stands, of course, as a most difficult matter to discuss, if for no other reason than God's separate existence is open to no kind of review. The principle is nonetheless of some importance, as MacIntyre seems to have suspected, since it represents a quite different point of departure for dealing with the human future. This is not contrary to what has been said by those concerned with emulation of the Deus pro nobis, something that Barth dealt with extensively and beautifully in the locus cited above. But it is an attempt to see the implications of glorifying God for his wisdom and power and providence.

Wisdom, revelation, uncertainty

Woven into the theme that glory belongs to God alone, then, are at least three subtopics, each of which deserves more expansion than I shall be able to give them. The first of these is that of divine wisdom. In the final analysis, it is only God who knows the purpose of creation, including the reason for all of the curious flowers and beasts that on occasion attracted the attention of Old Testament authors (here cf. the latter sections of job). Knowing the end from the beginning, he also knows the human heart and its ambivalences. In spite of what may be said in moments of optimism, matters such as these are for the most part sealed off from human comprehension.

The second subtopic is that of revelation. Although at its deepest levels the world is a mystery, God has provided a measure of guidance to humanity so that life may be lived with a sense of meaning and purpose. In the Old Testament, revelation reached its zenith in the law, which was acknowledged to constitute something of a replacement for the initial innocence of which the opening portions of Genesis speak. Not knowing the end from the beginning, and being incapable of acting wisely when results cannot be assured in advance, the Israelite could turn to a form of divine guidance that lifted from him the burden of impossible choices. In the New Testament, there stands the vision of God's summing all things up in Christ, so that participation in the life and death of Jesus becomes a model for Christian existence in the world. In no case is the value of "natural knowledge" denied, but it does not relate to the central questions of purpose with which people must struggle.

The third topic is that of uncertainty, which also can be referred to as human freedom and divine patience. Whatever may be the mix between God's knowledge and personal freedom, it at least can be said that the latter is accommodated. It may be that, according to Daniel, history will culminate in the triumph of the divine kingdom; or, with Paul, the consummation will take place in Christ. Still, people have an influence on the course of history to its destination, so that the laws of cause and effect appear to be relevant.

When viewed along these lines, the principle that glory belongs to God alone carries certain implications for dealing with the question of the human future. First of all, it becomes evident that the future is both radically open and at the same time radically closed. It is radically open because of human freedom, which not only introduces a certain flexibility into the divine scheme but also frustrates even the best attempts at social engineering. It is perhaps at this point that some of the advocates of liberation theologies may find themselves in difficulty. Central to the notion of liberation, when it is viewed humanistically, stands the premise that freedom combined with freedom yields a new and meaningful order. The biblical perspective, on the other hand, suggests that the combination produces even greater variability and conflict. There may be a natural self-interest that people might be expected to seek (Socrates), but there is in fact no assurance that they will actually pursue it. There may be good reasons in prudence why people should support the common welfare, but chances are that many will go their own way and contribute to corporate - and personal - decline. In short, Fosdick's expansion of Patrick Henry remains true: "Give me liberty or give me death - but why do we so often get both?" Accordingly, the radically open future - unpredictable because people are unpredictable - is also radically closed; the best laid plans of humankind will be frustrated by their own devices.

The principle that glory belongs to God alone provides a theoretical corrective, therefore, both to social optimism and to social pessimism. It serves to correct social optimism by remembering the fact of sin and corruption, which keep even the best-designed schemes from attaining full success. (Since it is true that time makes ancient good uncouth, and one generation's utopian dreams the next generation's terror, some comfort may be taken even at this point). And it balances social pessimism by noting that sin itself is not ultimate and carries seeds for its own destruction. The fact that the God of glory alone reigns over the world places all striving in perspective, freeing people to do the best they are able in the knowledge that they are not really the determiners of destiny.

The idea that glory belongs to God alone means, too, that not all forms of human endeavour are equally viable. God is glorified, according to the biblical witness, in the formation of the believing community, in fulfilment of the demands of justice, in expressions of compassion, and in the promulgation of the gospel to the ends of the earth. Deeds and plans related to these objectives, then, are stamped with a special character. In league with God's own character, they accord with the nature of reality itself and occupy a special place in human history.

Let me conclude with a few observations. First, if the discussion of the human prospect has been sober and chastened, it is indicative of the mood of this generation. A few years ago we thought we were ready to embark on an exodus that would lead us to a society where disease would be eradicated, inequities overcome, and men and women would live together with peace and plenty. We were not the first generation to dream of utopias. More wrote about it, as did Bacon and Campanella. But we were the first generation with scientific knowledge and technological know-how ready to hand to launch us to the Promised Land. But something happened to the vision before the trek had hardly begun. Our technology, rather than being salvific, delivered us over into a world of apocalypse. We remembered that those born since the close of World War II have lived with the threat of ultimate extinction through nuclear devices. There followed the threat of mounting overpopulation and consequent starvation, a threat that today is a reality. Then there came the ecological crisis and the recognition of the limitations of this inhabited earth, and standing in the wings are a host of biological menaces, including genetic control.

A world shorn of the future is a world without eschatology and without hope. And memory, too, has been eliminated. The same generation has been taught that its problems are absolutely unique and that the past, history, has nothing to teach them about responding to today's events. Without memory and hope, the only alternative is to become captive to the cruellest tyrant of all, the present, which is baffling, threatening, and without meaning.

This brings me to the second observation, which is the theme that underlies the address: the acknowledgement of a transcendent God as determinative for the way in which the future is conceived and the way in which it is implemented. The glory of God points to his fullness, his perfection, his kabod. The notion of transcendence has also suffered in our time. It refers to "distance from the present,, "to the dimension of height or depth, to what Dostoievski called the "fourth dimension" that had been squeezed out of our Euclidean world view. Transcendence points to the sovereignly free God to whom alone belongs the glory. He is the author of creation and all time, including our time, is in his hands.

Third, the glory of the transcendent God is seen in his works, including the covenant made with Israel and, supremely, in the sending of his Son;, "we have beheld his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father." "The life of Jesus is a living doxology." (Stauffer). Indeed, in Christ God and man meet amid all the contingencies of historical existence. As Professor Torrance has put it, Christ "is the place where the vertical and horizontal dimensionalities intersect, the place where human being is opened out to a transcendent ground in God and where the infinite Being of God penetrates into our existence and creates room for Himself within the horizontal dimensions of finite being in space and time. It is penetration of the horizontal by the vertical that gives man his true place, for it relates his place in space and time to its ultimate ontological ground so that it is not submerged in the endless relativities of what is merely horizontal."

Finally, the Christian hope is a glorious hope. While "the whole earth is full of God's glory," there is still a strong eschatological note. Professor Moltmann has written recently of an "open" Trinity, "open for the gathering and uniting of human - kind and the whole creation with God and in God." This is the strong affirmation that stands over all history, that creation and humanity "will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God." (Roman 8:12).

Prof James I McCord is president of Princeton Theological Seminary. After having served the Alliance for many years as chairman of its department of theology and as secretary of the North American and Caribbean area he was this year elected president of the World Alliance of Reformed Churches.