Longing for Repetition

One of my favourite novelists and literary critics, the Czech, Milan Kundera, once wrote: ‘Happiness is the longing for repetition’. On the face of it, such a definition could imply a rather dreary form of existence. Surely happiness is to be found in variety and not monotony? Surely happiness is multi-coloured and not monochrome? I’m not so sure. The postmodern drive toward a multifarious experience of life can, if we are not careful, lead to disappointment and anxiety. Successive governments have unfortunately jumped on to this particular philosophical bandwagon and have trumpeted the importance of choice, without having any clear idea of when or if that choice can actually be exercised. Choice in and of itself is, of course, not a bad thing, as the Arab Spring reminds us, but  when choice becomes an end in itself, then the question of meaning is not far behind. What is the point of all this choice?

This is why, I reckon, Kundera touches on a fundamental aspect, perhaps the fundamental aspect of what it means to be human. If nothing else, the exercise or experience of repetition relates to a desire for security. And though Kundera would not describe himself as a Christian, this leads naturally to the area of faith. Terry Eagleton, the Marxist and recently un-lapsed Catholic literary critic makes an important point about  the relationship between faith and choice:

Faith - any kind of faith - is not in the first place a matter of choice. It is more common to find oneself believing something than to make a conscious decision to do so - or at least to make such a conscious decision because you find yourself leaning that way already. This is not, needless to say, a matter of determinism. It is rather a matter of being gripped by a commitment from which one finds oneself unable to walk away.

    Reason, Faith and Revolution: Reflections on the God Debate 

 Without getting into any kind of rarefied or protracted debate about freewill and predestination (which would be to miss the point anyway), Eagleton reminds us that our choice for God is not a choice in the same sense as  the choice of side dish I’d like with my steak, or even, dare I say it, my choice of life partner. He is suggesting that somehow or other we lean towards God (or indeed lean away from God). And it is this ‘leaning towards’ which I would connect with this fundamental desire for security – if you like, the desire for home.

This is all the more evident when we realise that the Latin root of our word ‘repeat’ is ‘repetere’ which means ‘to seek again’. There is a sense that our relationship with God is always inevitably ‘a seeking again’. And this is the irony about this particular repetition, this seeking again—it is always new. We can never claim to have ‘made it’. Our seeking after God is a seeking for security in the sure knowledge that it is a journey that is never completed and it is one that offers us ever-changing insights into who we are as individuals, and as a church.

A good example of this would be the St Margaret's Vestry Away Day which was held recently on Cumbrae. It would be difficult for any of us who were there to say that we learned anything that was obviously new. But it was in the rehearsing, the repetition of the already known (and therefore so easily taken for granted) which made the two days we spent together so memorable and worthwhile. It is in the rediscovery of the obvious that we find ourselves renewed.

So at the risk of repeating myself, repetition is no bad thing. After all, it would appear that this is part of the Spirit’s work in us:

But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.

                                                                                          (John 14: 26)