
“And suddenly as no one planned, Behold the kingdom grow!”
Professor James McAuley
Australian poet, Professor James McAuley, was my (Damien Mackey’s) English teacher at the University of Tasmania, in 1970. I recalled this time in my article:
Memories of Australian poet, professor James P. McAuley
(1) Memories of Australian poet, professor James P. McAuley
Greg Sheridan quoted Professor McAuley’s words concerning “the kingdom grow” in his Easter article for The Australian (April 19, 2025):
https://www.theaustralian.com.au/inquirer/the-most-extraordinary-thing-about-this-easter-the-surge-towards-christianity/news-story/81f9acba04311a0755a32f8e1e970e14?giftid=yHc2bCOjw9
The most extraordinary thing about this Easter? The surge towards Christianity
Resurrection, heaven, and even the most unpopular doctrine, hell,
are essential to the elevated Christian vision of human dignity.
Easter Sunday is the most revolutionary day the world has known.
For an atheist it’s the day of the greatest hoax in human history.
For a Christian, it’s the day Jesus triumphed over death, the day the meek inherited the earth, the last became the first, the promise of eternal life became physical reality. If that’s true, it’s true for everyone in the world, not just for Christians.
No Christian believes the resurrection was a metaphor, a psychological or purely spiritual experience, an apparition without substance. As St Paul wrote: If Christ is not risen our faith is in vain, and we are the most to be pitied of all people.
The resurrection imposes a startling, unavoidable binary on everyone who encounters it. Either you believe it’s a lie, and Christianity worthless, or you believe it happened, and Jesus is God.
One reason novelist Graham Greene gave for his conversion to Christian belief was the detail, the physicality, the feel of truth, not to mention the raw emotional honesty of the gospels, especially John’s gospel, especially its account of the resurrection.
Mary Magdalene is the first to discover Jesus’ tomb is empty: “Mary stood weeping outside the tomb.” As she weeps, she tells a stranger: “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”
Then she meets Jesus; she’s the first of the Christians to meet the risen Jesus, yet doesn’t recognise him immediately. There is so much good news for the human race in this passage, so many clues about this life, about eternal life.
But let’s pause for one other bit of good news. For the past decade I’ve been writing about the decline of Christianity in the West (not elsewhere, it’s on fire in Africa and Asia). This seemed overwhelming and it was hard to know where it would lead.
A few months ago I noticed something strange going on and wrote about the conversion of the great historian Niall Ferguson and his wife, Ayaan Hirsi Ali, to Christian belief in the Anglican communion. I noticed the surge of numerous leading Western intellectuals, by no means all conservatives, coming to Christianity.
Now, the weirdest thing is happening. The statistical decline of Christianity in the US, in parts of Europe, even perhaps in Australia, has puzzlingly stopped.
The Economist reports that a surprising number of American Gen Z and millennials have “got religion”. The Pew polling organisation records the proportion of adults in the US identifying as Christian has remained stable over the past five years at about 62 per cent.
Here’s an even more startling statistic from Britain. Based on YouGov surveys, in 2018 some 4 per cent of 18 to 24-year-olds went to church once a month. In 2024 that figure was 16 per cent. Christianity’s still a minority of that cohort, but that’s dramatic growth.
In France, a bastion of anti-Christian secularism, the Catholic Church will baptise more than 10,000 new converts this Easter, nearly half as many again as in 2024, and the biggest number since statistics of this kind have been kept over the past 20 years. Nearly half these converts are aged 25 and under.
Similar things are happening elsewhere in Europe. Melbourne’s Catholic Archbishop, Peter Comensoli, noted in his recent Patrick Oration that there will be 400 converts to Catholicism in Melbourne at Easter. In his diocese, Sunday mass attendance has gone from 84,000 in 2022 to 103,000 in 2024.
…
Every Christian leader I’ve consulted about this responds in the same way, with caution and humility. Let’s see if it’s sustained. Let’s not celebrate too soon. Let’s not be unseemly in rejoicing. Still, my own reaction would be: what a miracle! What a time it is to be alive.
These startling trends recall the prophetic words of one of the greatest Australian poets, James McAuley, in Retreat, which, after describing the difficulties communicating the truth, unexpectedly concludes: “And suddenly as no one planned, Behold the kingdom grow!”
Among Catholics the two movements with the most energy among young people are the rad trads, the highly traditionalist, and the charismatics, Catholic first cousins of the Pentecostals.
Like the Pentecostals, these movements emphasise a personal encounter with God, with the transcendent.
Christians should never shy away from how utterly weird, how completely gobsmackingly strange, their core beliefs are. Christians believe that God became man, born of a virgin, suffered humiliation and death, and rose from the dead. Christians believe that every week at church they eat the flesh of this God and drink his blood. Christians believe that every human being will live for all eternity in a transformed version of their body. Christians believe in the Four Last Things – death, judgment, heaven, hell.
I’ve recently been reading a great deal about early Christians, after the apostles, mainly in their own words. Like the Christian movements experiencing success today, one striking feature of early Christians was that they leaned right into the essential weirdness of their beliefs.
Nobody rejected Christianity in the first century Roman Empire because it was too bland.
Both heaven and hell, in my view, are more than a bit neglected these days in much Christian discourse. Nobody spoke about heaven and hell more frequently than Jesus himself. We have the experience during his crucifixion, when he tells the good thief, dying beside him: “Today you will be with me in paradise.”
These words rightly offer hope, but they also offer information, teaching. It’s possible to be with Jesus, in paradise, after death. The relationship with Jesus is everything. We don’t know in detail what heaven will be like. Christian scripture deals mainly in metaphor in describing the indescribable – the pearly gates and so on. John, in his first letter, sensibly comments: “What we will be has not yet been revealed.” But he continues: “What we do know is this, we will be like him (God) for we will see him as he is.”
We know something of what even our risen bodies will be like from the encounter Mary Magdalene had with the risen Jesus. She doesn’t recognise him at first, then she does. His body is transformed. It’s no longer bound by the physical limitations of the pre-resurrection body. And yet it’s a physical body still. Thomas, the doubting apostle, places his hand in Jesus’ wounds to prove they are real. Jesus eats and drinks with the apostles, at one point cooking them breakfast.
Vince Gair, a long-forgotten DLP politician, used to say: if you must be a dog, be an Alsatian. That’s a very inapt comparison, but let me make it anyway. The message is, be wholeheartedly the thing you’re going to be. There are some tough words about the lukewarm in the New Testament. I always think of any Christian movement – if you believe in the supernatural, talk about the supernatural, if not all the time, at least pretty frequently.
Heaven is part of the Good News. It’s not just an image or outside possibility to provide modest consolation, a sporting chance so to speak, for mourners at funerals. It’s a solemn promise of the living God. It’s the promise of Jesus in crucifixion.
But if Christians avoid heaven, these days they almost never mention hell. That too is a mistake. It’s surely the case that some Christians previously used the fear of hell in emotionally manipulative ways. It’s also true that concern for the supernatural is no excuse for neglecting the poor or those in need today.
Again Jesus has some pretty tough words on such neglect.
But heaven and hell together are part of the strikingly elevated conception of human dignity that Christianity, and indeed the whole Judeo-Christian tradition, uniquely teach. As John says about heaven, we will be like God. That should inspire awe.
It also goes right back to the beginning of the Bible, to Genesis, and the most radical statement in celebrating human nature, and therefore human rights, ever made in the ancient world – that God created humanity in the image of God.
Human nature is exceptional in every way. Atheists often demand Christians explain human evil. Christians could point out that atheists can’t explain human virtue, human heroism.
When God became man, in Jesus, this further elevated humanity’s nature.
In some ways, people share in the nature of God and share some God-like qualities. One is human creativity. Another is language. God spoke the world into being. God spoke something and it existed. Human beings think something and in a sense a version of it exists in their mind. This power of proactive creation is God-like.
Yet of course human nature is also flawed, limited and fallen.
One of the most extraordinary gifts God gave is free will.
Our age in particular, though in love with freedom at the trivial levels, always shies away from the responsibility that goes with real freedom. When there is a mass murder the explanation is routinely medicalised. Psychologists, sociologists, many other “ologists” incline to erase human agency and responsibility.
But the Jewish and Christian scriptures, and every aspect of our own lived experience, show us that human beings have agency, they make choices, including moral choices, their choices have consequences, they are responsible for their choices. The Christian story is also that God offers forgiveness to anyone who is genuinely sorry. Many Christians feel they couldn’t bear the weight of their own sins without the promise of God’s forgiveness.
At the same time, God respects the free will of human beings. Viktor Frankl, a psychiatrist who survived Adolf Hitler’s death camps and wrote about them in the magnificent Man’s Search for Meaning, concluded that there was one final value no one, not even the Nazis, could take from any person. He wrote: “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms – to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
Frankl described the systematic Nazi effort to dehumanise the inmates of the concentration camps. Central to dehumanising them was to remove the faculty for moral choice. But Frankl observed that in the end nothing absolved a human being of moral choice. A human being can be coerced into actions but still there is the spirit of resistance, the decision on whether this action is willing or forced. Moral choice is inescapable.
Throughout history there are endless efforts and conspiracies to deprive humanity of the reality of moral choice, of free will with consequences, as though we just can’t cope with it. Some Christians so emphasise God’s sovereignty, that he can save or not whoever he likes, that they understate the majesty of his gift of free will.
No one earns heaven. It’s rather that they accept God’s gracious gift and also repent of their wrongdoing.
A range of early Christian heresies held that salvation, entry to heaven, to ultimate friendship with God, was either so difficult that only a tiny number of the elect could attain it, or conceived it as effectively universal. Our psychobabulous and neurotically therapeutic age similarly hates individual responsibility, preferring often to vest responsibility in racial or gender categories, or in national histories or even the impersonal movements of history. Of course, in truth, human history is driven by individual human beings, who make individual choices.
Sam Harris, one of the New Atheists (I must honestly confess to finding this group’s logic-chopping arguments tedious and unimpressive, but that’s a matter of taste), in Free Will argues that effectively there’s no such thing as free will. Whereas in reality everyone is influenced by their background, by their experiences, but if there is really no free will then we’ve never done anything wrong. Does that describe you?
For all that, Christians have always grappled uneasily with the idea of hell. How could a good God allow an eternity of punishment for anyone he created? The New Testament talks of hell in metaphor and it may be that its awful suffering is simply the realisation of losing the chance of intimate friendship with God.
CS Lewis famously argued that the door to hell is always locked from the inside; that is, it contains people who continue to reject God, who remain in rebellion. Some Christian theologians hope that hell is empty, which is a reasonable hope. Others believe hell cannot possibly be consistent with a loving God.
That’s not the mainstream Christian position. For if there is no hell, or rather no possibility of hell for it may well indeed be empty, there’s no real free will. Human beings exist then just like animals, faithful to their nature, doing as they will, not capable of a lasting moral choice.
Instead, for free will to be real, there must be the possibility of rejecting God and God’s honouring that rejection. Rejecting God is not exactly the same as rejecting Christianity. God is not just good, God is goodness itself. The Catholic catechism, for example, teaches that someone who doesn’t know about God, or doesn’t know about Jesus, but honestly seeks out the good, in other words seeks out God, may also find salvation.
Of course, notwithstanding how much there is about this in the New Testament, and in Christian tradition, the truth is many things remain a mystery. Many things are beyond our understanding, approached only in metaphor.
Nonetheless, death and judgment, heaven and hell, are elements of the uniquely elevated, truly glorious conception of human nature that Christianity teaches. The triumph of Easter is full of hope. As one of the early Christians, Irenaeus, argued: “The glory of God is man fully alive.”
And never more alive than Easter Sunday.