The King’s Existential Garments

(Ardent apologies to Hans Christian Andersen)

Many years ago King Visible Church received royal garments woven out of the revealed truths of Scripture. His delight was to display them to all who would behold. The royal garments were of such beauty that people came from the ends of the earth to see them. Many became so entranced by their glory that they remained to become citizens of the realm over which the King reigned.

Among the hosts of strangers that came to visit the King were two designers who disdained the traditional royal garments and gave themselves out as weavers. They claimed that they knew how to weave the most beautiful fabrics imaginable. Not only were the colors and patterns unusually fine and existential, but the garments that were made of this cloth had the peculiar quality of becoming invisible to every person who was unworthy or who was lacking in the latest scientific knowledge.

The King was greatly disturbed when he heard snatches of their conversation. He would hear them say to others that his royal garb was “out-worn,” “out-dated,” “old-fashioned,” “affront to the intelligentsia,” “lacking in critical scholarship,” “not philosophically respectful,” and many more of like nature. This greatly embarrassed the King. Perhaps he needed the renovations they had to offer. “Those must be splendid garments,” mused the King. “By wearing them I would be able to discover which men in my kingdom are unfitted for their ecclesiastical positions. I shall distinguish the scholars from the fools. Yes, I certainly must commission these wise men to weave some garments for me.” The King commanded that all the venerable institutions of his realm be opened to the weavers and that they be accorded all honor and respect.

So they put up two paradoxical looms and began to weave dialetically with tillichian and bultmannian shuttles. On and on they worked far into the night.

“I should like to know how those weavers are getting on with their fabric,” thought the King, but he hesitated when he reflected that anyone who was unscholarly or unfit for his post would not be able to see it. “I will send my faithful old theological weaver,” thought the King. “He will be able to see how the cloth looks for he is not an obscurantist and no one fulfills his ecclesiastical duties better than he does.”

So the good and trusted weaver went into the room where the two strangers sat working at their paradoxical looms.

“Heaven help me,” thought the old theologian. “Why, I can’t see a thing!” But he took care not to say so.

The two designers begged him to step a little nearer and asked him if he did not think it was a good Christian pattern and beautiful coloring. They pointed to what they declared to be a beautiful piece of cloth woven with dialectical skill with the tillichian shuttle and consisting of the lost dimension:

The answer is given by the awareness that we have lost the decisive dimension of life, the dimension of depth, and there is no easy way of getting it back. Such awareness is in itself a state of being grasped by that which is symbolized in the term, dimension of depth. He who realizes that he is separated from the ultimate source of meaning shows by this realization that he is not only separated but also reunited.

“Good heavens,” thought the old and trusted weaver. “I must be way behind the time. I had not thought so, but to hear dialectical language makes me wonder if I am intelligible to young theolog weavers. It will never do to say I cannot understand this.” So when the old theological weaver returned to the King, he informed him that the use of the tillichian shuttle would produce the most profound, constructive, apologetical theological fabric ever made in the kingdom. At last sophisticated intellectuals may obtain a sense of meaning by the realization that he is separated from the ultimate source of meaning. The tillichian shuttle would enable man to make the profound discovery that the very knowledge that he is actually separated from the source of meaning would indicate that he is also reunited.

The King soon sent another faithful ecclesiastical official to see how the garment was getting on. The same thing happened to him as to the old and trusted weaver. He looked and looked, but he could see no authentically Christian fabric in the loom.

“Is not this a beautiful piece of Christian cloth?” asked the two designers. “Notice how the bultmannian shuttle gives intellectual and scientific depth to the Apostles’ Creed.”

I believe in Jesus Christ, not the only Son of God, (yet) our Lord: who was not conceived by the Holy Ghost, not born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate; was crucified, dead and buried: he did not descend into hell; the third day he is (thought to have) risen again from the dead; he did not ascend into heaven; and sitteth not at the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence he shall not come to judge the quick and the dead.

The two foreign designers pointed to what they purported to be another colorful piece of the same Christian cloth woven with the bultmannian shuttle:

The man who understands his historicity radically, that is, the man who radically understands himself as someone future, or in other words, who understands his genuine self as an ever-future one, has to know that his genuine self can only be offered to him as a gift by the future.

The poor ecclesiast could see no resemblance whatever to revealed Christianity. He could not conceive of himself unworthy of his post, so he concluded that he was theologically ignorant. This he did not dare to confess, however, so he praised the stuff he did not see, and assured them of his delight in the beautiful colors and the originality of the design. Then he reported to the King that the cloth was truly the primitive kerygma properly demythologized and intelligible to the modern man.

Now the King thought he would like to see it while it was still on the loom. So, accompanied by the two faithful officials, he went to see the crafty designers who were working away at the empty looms.

This time it was not necessary for the designers to make any explanations, for the two officials pointed out the lost dimension in the design and how the very fact that it was lost meant that it was found. “It is magnificent,” they said, each thinking no doubt the other could see what he could not see. “Only look at the beauty of the primitive kerygma from which is stripped all that would appear ugly and unscientific to the modern mind.”

“What?” thought the King. “I see nothing at all. This is terrible. Am I a fool? Am I not fit to be King?” “Oh, it is beautiful,” he said. “It has my highest approval.” Nothing would induce him to say that he saw no authentic Christianity in the looms. As a matter of fact he immediately ordered that the designers receive the highest honorary degrees in the kingdom.

Then the day arrived for the fitting and for the procession to which all within the kingdom were invited. The fame of the foreign weavers had spread throughout the land. All people were aware of the magic power the new existential garments possessed to reveal the unworthiness or ignorance of anyone. While some had a measure of trepidation in heart yet none dared to absent himself from viewing the procession.

First of all the weavers stripped from the King all the traditional garments which had attracted people from the ends of the earth. These they declared to be out-worn, out-moded and out-dated. With gloved hands they removed dogmas, creeds, and all that smacked of the supernatural.

Then they placed upon him what purported to be a kierkegaardian paradoxical under-garment. This, they explained, could not be grasped by the mind but only by a faith-leap. Those who did not ignore logical contradictions had no faith. The poor King saw nothing and concluded he had no faith. The outer garments, they elucidated, were purely symbolical. They fastened on his waist what they declared to be a bultmannian train from which the vertical had been almost removed and the horizontal extended to show its historical continuity to the first century.

The King looked into the mirror and saw nothing but his nakedness. “What beauty! How modern! How scholarly and scientific!” cried all his couriers round.

“The canopy is waiting outside which is to be carried over Your Majesty in the procession,” said the stated clerk who had charge over all ecclesiastical functions to see that they operated smoothly and efficiently. Nothing must be done to upset the carefully planned schedule of events.

“Well, I am quite ready,” said the King. “The clothes certainly do fit well.” Then he turned round and round in front of the mirror, so that he should seem to be looking at his grand and new fabric. The faithful old theological weaver and the ecclesiast were given the honor of holding up the train. With dignity they pretended to lift it from the ground with both hands, and they walked along with their hands in the air. They dared not let it appear that they could not see anything.

Then the King walked along in the procession under a gorgeous ecclesiastical canopy, and everybody in the streets and at the windows exclaimed, “How beautiful is the King’s new existential garment! What a splendid train! And it fits to perfection!” Nobody would confess that he could see nothing lest he be considered ignorant or unworthy.

“But he has got nothing on,” said a little child.

“Oh, listen to the innocent,” said its father. And one person whispered to the other what the child had said. “He has nothing on—a child says he has nothing on!”

“But he has nothing on!” at last cried all the people.

The King writhed, for he knew it was true. But he thought, “The procession must go on now.” So he held himself stiffer than ever, and the ecclesiastical dignitaries lifted with their hands the invisible train.

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