Lastly, this truth is yet again true in the case of the common modern attempts to diminish or to explain away the divinity of Christ. The thing may be true or not; that I shall deal with before I end. But if the divinity is true it is certainly terribly revolutionary. That a good man may have his back to the wall is no more than we knew already; but that God could have his back to the wall is a boast for all insurgents for ever. Christianity is the only religion on earth that has felt that omnipotence made God incomplete. Christianity alone has felt that God, to be wholly God, must have been a rebel as well as a king. Alone of all creeds, Christianity has added courage to the virtues of the Creator. For the only courage worth calling courage must necessarily mean that the soul passes a breaking point—and does not break. In this indeed I approach a matter more dark and awful than it is easy to discuss; and I apologise in advance if any of my phrases fall wrong or seem irreverent touching a matter which the greatest saints and thinkers have justly feared to approach. But in that terrific tale of the Passion there is a distinct emotional suggestion that the author of all things (in some unthinkable way) went not only through agony, but through doubt. It is written, “Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.” No; but the Lord thy God may tempt Himself; and it seems as if this was what happened in Gethsemane. In a garden Satan tempted man: and in a garden God tempted God. He passed in some superhuman manner through our human horror of pessimism. When the world shook and the sun was wiped out of heaven, it was not at the crucifixion, but at the cry from the cross: the cry which confessed that God was forsaken of God. And now let the revolutionists choose a creed from all the creeds and a god from all the gods of the world, carefully weighing all the gods of inevitable recurrence and of unalterable power. They will not find another god who has himself been in revolt. Nay, (the matter grows too difficult for human speech,) but let the atheists themselves choose a god. They will find only one divinity who ever uttered their isolation; only one religion in which God seemed for an instant to be an atheist.
Chesterton, G. K. (1909). Orthodoxy. (pp. 255–257). New York: John Lane Company.
Zizek: but where I first second surprisingly maybe for you I agree with your point about judeo-christian legacy for which I am very much attacked, oh-euro-centrist and so on and so on you know I wonder if you’d agree with it I will try to condense it very much you know what’s for me the deepest, I simplify to the utmost, something unheard of and I as an atheist accept the spiritual value of it happens in Christianity. In other religions you have God up there, we fall from God and then we try to climb back through spiritual discipline whatever, training, goodness, and so on and so on. The formula of Christianity is a totally different one as we philosopher us would have put it you don’t climb to God, God you are free in a Christian sense when you discover that the distance that separates you from God is inscribed into God himself. That’s why I agree with those intelligent theologies like my favorite Gilbert Keith Chesterton who said that this, the cross, the crucifixion is something absolutely unique because in that moment of “eloi eloi lama sabachthani God/Father why have you abandoned me?” for a brief moment symbolically God Himself becomes an atheist in the sense of you know you get a gap there. And that is something so absolutely unique it means that you are not simply separated from God your separation from God is part of divinity itself.