Theological Journeying

A Move

2010-02-20T15:09:00.002-05:00

I've shifted spots. I'm now over here.

Hauerwas on Suffering (Again)

2010-02-09T18:07:00.000-05:00

I've posted this quote before, but have since started reading the book it's drawn from. Republished as “Naming the Silences,” here's the quote again:

There is no hope for us if our only hope in the face of suffering is that ‘we can learn from it,’ or that we can use what we learn from the treatment of that suffering to overcome eventually what has caused it (e.g., many children in the future will be helped by what we have learned by using experimental drugs on children like Carol), or that we can use suffering to organize our energies to mount effective protests against oppression. Rather, our only hope lies in whether we can place alongside the story of the pointless suffering of a child like Carol a story of suffering that helps us know we are not thereby abandoned. This, I think, is to get the question of ‘theodicy’ right. (34)

Hauerwas, I think too, gets this question exactly right.

Romans 11:33-12:8: Sneak Peek

2010-02-09T16:12:00.001-05:00

Since I'm speaking at youth on Friday, I thought I'd put my two years of Greek to work and translate the text I'm speaking from. Here it is:

[11:33] Oh what rich depth and wisdom and knowledge are God’s, that his decisions are so beyond examining and his paths are untraceable! [34] For who knew the mind of the Lord, or who was his advisor? [35] Who first gave him something so that they would be repaid? [36] Because everything is from him and through him and to him—let the glory be his into eternity. Amen.

[12:1] Therefore, I challenge you, brothers and sisters, through God’s compassion, to offer up your bodies as a living, holy sacrifice pleasing to God—your thoughtful worship. [2] And don’t be patterned just like this age, but be transformed by a change of mind, in order to test what the will of God is: good, pleasing, complete.

[3] For through the grace given me, I say to each one of you: do not think better of yourself than you should, but think sanely, since God has given a piece of faith to each of you. [4] Because just as we have many parts in one body, and every part does not function the same, [5] so many of us are one body in Christ, and each person is a part of the others. [6] But we have different gifts based on the grace given to us, whether that’s prophetic—based on one’s piece of faith— [7] or for service in the church’s ministry; or as a teacher in education; [8] or as someone who challenges people, encouraging them; someone who shares with others in generosity; someone who leads others by working hard; or someone who happily extends mercy.

This section marks the end of a long three chapters on how God has spread Israel's promises and gifts into all the world (Romans 9-11). Paul then enters into a longer section on how we should respond to all these gifts by offering up everything we are as “a living, holy sacrifice pleasing to God” (12:1-15:13). So in a way, this passage is a sneak peek on the last part of the letter to the Romans too.

Interview with Meillassoux

2010-02-08T19:52:00.006-05:00

There's an interesting new movement in French philosophy termed “speculative realism” which attempts to recover a chastened confidence in reason. There's an interview with one of its leading proponents, Quentin Meillassoux, over at Idée@Jour. Since, however, it's in French, here's a translation:

Q. Can metaphysics speak to these times of crisis?

A. The very fact of getting back in touch with metaphysical questioning is itself a call to a refound confidence in the capacities of thought. This confidence certainly assumes an increased vigilance, bound by the critical heritage of the last decades, toward the dogmatic illusions which speculative philosophy was able to haul through the centuries. But we see today that the abandonment of metaphysical reflection, far from causing the intolerance of thought to decline, did nothing but exacerbate the desire for a blind faith—as though an overreaching skepticism towards reason turned into a fanaticism wishing to be inaccessible to discussion. Resetting ourselves in a metaphysical perspective permits us to confer anew on the concept—rather than on faith alone or the sole opportunism of interest—the duty of helping us to construct our existence, to “vectorise” the concept in its relation to a world both rich and opaque. A metaphysics instructed by the work of its great adversaries—instructed by its reversals (Nietzsche), by its destruction (Heidegger), therapeutic dissolution (Wittgenstein), or deconstruction (Derrida)—sets out both an extraordinary heritage, a treasure of unique thought towards which we are yet able to return—and at the same time imposes on us a totally new and exciting task: that is, how to produce a contemporary metaphysics, able to give a meaning, even a fragile one, to our lives by the sole force of thought, and one which may be likely to “pass across” [passer au travers] those tremendous undertakings of “demolition” which together ran through [traversé] the 20th century.

Q. What are the paths for metaphysics in 2010?

A. They are numerous, and the foremost among them bears a relation to the renewed questioning of its singular: is it still necessary to speak, like Heidegger or above all Derrida, of metaphysics [“la” métaphysique], or is it better rather to speak of metaphysics-plural [“des” métaphysiques-pluriel] which echoes the title of our [new book] series? In effect, this plurality is manifested to us in at least three ways, which make up three important modalities of contemporary research:
First of all, returning to the surface of those metaphysics either forgotten or neglected for a long time in France, when, that is, they represent alternatives to the grand classical systems of Aristotle, Descartes or Hegel: a metaphysics no longer of substance, of the subject, or of the closed system, but of the Open (Bergson), of the event (Whitehead), of singularity-in-becoming (Simondon), of possession (Tarde), of the work to be created [l'oeuvre à faire] (Souriau). Many more undertakings which demonstrate that metaphysics [“la” métaphysique] is not reducible to a determined collection of concepts which, once disqualified, take with them the whole of speculative thought.

This power of the difference [l'altérité] of metaphysics permits us to be comforted in our hope for its renewal, and that from the heart itself of those currents which contested it the most radically: Alain Badiou, thinking totally within the heritage of Lacan's anti-philosophy, takes up in depth the most radical requirements of Platonism in order to elaborate a system of the undecidable event and its weak multiplicities; Graham Harman, an American philosopher whose first work in French we are about to publish, successfully extracts from Heidegger himself a completely rethought metaphysics of the object.

Finally, this rediscovery of an “other metaphysics” [autre métaphysique] (according to the expression of Pierre Montebello) is accompanied by the discovery of a metaphysics of the other [métaphysique de l'autre]—that is to say, of “non-Western” peoples. In Métaphysique cannibales, Eduardo Viveiros de Castro establishes that the Amerindians developed a metaphysics of original predation, a “multinaturalist perspectivism” that philosophy—in particular that of Deleuze and Guattari—can help us to tackle and understand. Viveiros can then cite, to support his point, a postface of Lévi-Strauss to a volume of L'Homme, dating from 2000, which treats of this “metaphysics of original predation” and reveals to us the gripping evolution of the author of Mythologiques vis-à-vis philosophy: “...whether one rejoices or worries, philosophy once again occupies center stage. No longer our philosophy, of which my generation had asked foreign [exotiques] peoples for help to dismantle [défaire]; but rather, by a striking turn, theirs.”
One could not better describe the movement underway: this benefit (bien) from a thirst for otherness [altérité] and the decentering which metaphysics begins again in the plural, requiring us to think this profusion in preserving it, as much as we can, from ancient wanderings.

William of St. Thierry on Tasting God's Gifts

2010-01-27T21:48:00.004-05:00

The 12th-century monk, William of St. Thierry, wrote many short books on the spiritual life. Here's from near the end of his “The Contemplation of God”:

I remain therefore in the place of my solitude, like the solitary evening primrose, having my lodging in the earth of salts; and drawing my breath of love, I open my mouth towards you, Lord, and I breathe spirit. And sometimes, Lord, while I am gaping toward you, eyes closed, you place something in me, in the mouth of the heart; but it, I have no right to know what it is. I certainly sense a flavour, so soft, so sweet, so comforting, that if it were left perfect in me, I would no longer go searching for anything else. But when I receive it, you do not let me figure out what it is—neither by sight, nor by a feeling of the soul, nor by a thought of the mind; when I receive it, I want to hold it and think about it, to judge its flavour; but quickly it passes. I surely swallow it, whatever it may be, in the hope of eternal life. Yet in thinking a long time about the virtue of its working, I hope to transfuse it through all the veins and marrow of my soul like some life-giving sap, in order to lose the flavour of all other affections, and no longer savour anything except it alone and forever; but it hastens to pass on.

Je me tiens donc dans la demeure de ma solitude, comme l’onagre solitaire, ayant mon logis en la terre des salines ; et aspirant le souffle de mon amour, j’ouvre la bouche vers toi, Seigneur, et j’aspire l’esprit. Et quelquefois, Seigneur, tandis que je suis comme béant vers toi, les yeux clos, tu me mets quelque chose dans la bouche du cœur ; mais cela, je n’ai pas licence de savoir ce que c’est. Sans doute, je sens une saveur, tellement douce, tellement suave, tellement réconfortante, que si elle se parfaisait en moi, je ne rechercherais plus rien outre. Mais quand je la reçois, tu ne me permets de discerner ce que c’est ni par une vision du corps, ni par un sens de l’âme, ni par une intelligence de l’esprit ; quand je la reçois, je la veux retenir et ruminer, et en juger la saveur ; mais aussitôt elle passe. Je la déglutis sans doute, quelle qu’elle puisse être, dans l’espoir de la vie éternelle. Mais en ruminant longtemps la vertu de son opération, je souhaiterais transfuser dans toutes les veines et toutes les moelles de mon âme comme quelque suc vital, pour perdre la saveur de toutes les autres affections, et ne plus savourer qu’elle seule et à jamais ; mais elle se hâte de passer. (La contemplation de Dieu, 115)

Von Balthasar and the Reformation

2010-01-18T17:19:00.004-05:00

Hans Urs von Balthasar, among the most influential Catholic theologians of the 20th century, unfolds in the early part of his trilogy a theology of Christian experience. Here the saints play a very interesting role as those who exemplify the Christian life which simply is the conformity to Christ's form (von Balthasar's first volume is entitled “Seeing the Form”). Between different saints, however, von Balthasar discerns different patterns of experiencing this path. Particularly interesting is his distinction between the experiences of the apostles Paul and John:

If we pass from Paul to John, who constitutes the second classical instance of a New Testament theology of experience, we leave a spiritual world which is impetuous and agitated almost in a violent sense and enter the calm of what “abides.” Paul's fundamental experience is that of being snatched up by Christ's dynamis [Greek, “power”] from one aeon and being transferred to the other. Paul overwhelms us because he has himself been overwhelmed. Damascus is a flash of lightning and remains such for the rest of the Apostle's life. John, on the other hand, has been marked out ever since his first meeting with Jesus at the Jordan... To be sure, John too is one transported by love; but he is so profoundly at rest in this movement that, for him, it becomes the very presence of eternity... (The Glory of the Lord, vol. 1, 232-233)

In this light, it makes sense to see Paul speaking of the battle with the spiritual powers and authorities, the need for spiritual armour, the struggle with the sinful nature so central to his life (esp. Romans 7), and the bitter clashes with his opponents in the churches. From John, however, we are presented with a picture of calm repose, even at those moments in his gospel which in the others are full of agony. On the cross, Jesus' life ends not with the dramatic cry as in Mark's gospel (15:34), but with the composed, “It is finished” (19:30). Now, this difference should not be overplayed, but it is striking.

Striking especially in light of the historical circumstances that generated the Reformation. A certain monk, Martin Luther, of the Augustinian order—Augustine's theology being strongly influenced by Paul—was greatly troubled over his sinfulness and lack of assurance. Luther was continuously plagued by Anfechtung, or “tempting attacks.” Only in reading the first chapter of Romans, with its teaching of justification by faith, did he find himself totally carried away, relieved, transported to a place of comfort and solace. The same sort of pattern is seen in Kierkegaard, perhaps the paradigmatic Protestant, who spoke similarly of Anfægtelse, or “spiritual trials.” (See the excellent article, “The Lightning and the Earthquake,” by Podmore.) This bloomed in Barth's early dialectical theology of Krisis where Kierkegaard's “infinite qualitative distance” between God and humanity is unfolded in all its purity.

This genealogy—Paul, Augustine, Luther, Kierkegaard, Barth—suggests a highly significant set of questions, again in light of von Balthasar's earlier distinction between Pauline and Johannine types of Christian experience or spiritualities: Would the Reformation have occurred if Luther had been formed in a Johannine spirituality of eternal rest? If Luther had been, say, a Benedictine or Franciscan rather than an Augustinian monk? Would it have taken another avenue, perhaps waiting the 20 years for Calvin to begin it? Would it have ended with the Catholics and Reformers so violently opposed? Perhaps most interesting to me, and ecumenically significant: Can the history of the last 500 years between Protestants and Catholics be helpfully read as a history of spirituality? And will this reading allow us to come back to one another once again?

Thomas Merton on World Peace

2010-01-18T16:21:00.002-05:00

Inspired by Jamie Smith over at his reading blog, I've started into Thomas Merton's The Seven Storey Mountain, the now-classic story of his conversion and entry into a Trappist monastery. Here's a wonderful bit from his reflection on time spent in public school:

Is it any wonder that there can be no peace in a world where everything possible is done to guarantee that the youth of every nation will grow up absolutely without moral and religious discipline, and without the shadow of an interior life, or of that spirituality and charity and faith which alone can safeguard the treaties and agreements made by governments? [(Harcourt & Brace, 1948), 51.]

Ephesians 1:1-14: Some Thoughts on Predestination

2010-01-09T10:49:00.007-05:00

Yes, I really am wading into this debate. It is unfortunate “wading” in the pool is what is required, since for Paul, predestination is an ocean of grace:

Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus through the will of God, to the saints who are in Ephesus, the faithful in Christ Jesus: grace to you and peace from God our father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Blessed be the God and father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ, for he chose us in him before the foundation of the world to be saints and unblemished before his sight in love, having predestined us for adoption into him through Jesus Christ, according to the good favour of his will, for the praise of the glory of his grace which he graced us with in his beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of transgressions, according to the wealth of his grace which he caused to overflow into us, in all wisdom and understanding having made known to us what was the mystery of his will, according to his good favour which he purposed in him in the management of the fullness of time, to recapitulate all things in Christ, the things in heaven and the things on earth in him. We were also allotted [an inheritance] in him, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who carries out all things according to the intention of his will, for us to be to the praise of his glory those who are the first to hope in Christ. In him also we heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and having also believed in him we were sealed with the holy Spirit of promise, who is a first payment of our inheritance until the redemption of [God's] possession, for the praise of his glory.

This passage screams Exodus. The redemption of a people through blood—the lambs' blood on the doorposts; the fullness of time—430 years since Abraham (Gal. 3:17); the first payment of an inheritance—the tabernacle in the desert; predestination of a people—the choosing of Israel (Ex. 19:4); ruler over all things in heaven and earth—God's rule (Ex. 19:5); and the praise of his glory—a kingdom of priests (Ex. 19:6). This suggests Paul is deliberately evoking the Exodus, the central history of Israel's faith, to say that in Christ (which appears constantly in this passage) a new Exodus has taken place.

But this means that in no way is Paul talking about the predestination of individuals, but about a people: the “saints,” the “faithful.” What has happened in Christ is that predestination opens up from Israel to the whole world, all things in heaven and on earth in him. Never was “I” chosen from the foundation of the world, but “he chose us in him.” He “predestined us” (v.5), “we were also allotted an inheritance” (v.11), and the holy Spirit is “our inheritance” (v.14). The central divide is not between these and those individuals, but between the Church and those outside it (in John, the “world”); just as before Christ the divide was between Jews and Gentiles. Others passages would need to be examined to establish this as well (something NT Wright has already done in many places), especially Romans 9-11, a passage massively important simply for what it handles: Israel and Church, predestination, law, covenant and justification. Maybe in a bit.

Hauerwas on Obama's Nobel Speech

2010-01-04T18:02:00.004-05:00

Hauerwas writes a brief response to Obama's speech here, where he enunciates once again the importance of maintaining our language about war. What, he asks, lets us know a war is a war? Particularly to proponents of “just war” theory, who list a number of criteria that make a war apparently “just,” Hauerwas asks what a war that fails to meet these criteria would be? Would one still call it war? For instance, one of the just war criteria is that it must be declared by legitimate authority. What if a guerrilla group or terrorist organization declared “war” on a certain country? Would one call this war? Another criterion is that the declared intention of a war must not be different than the actual intention. A country, that is, cannot declare a war looking for weapons of mass destruction, but actually be looking for oil. But then, if this is no longer a war, what is it? A point Hauerwas makes elsewhere, but only alludes to here in his reference to Cain and Abel, is that Christians ought to maintain our language of war as murder. If we fail to name war properly, that is, as murder, then we may lose the resources to see when the wool is being pulled over our eyes with the language of a “necessary war.” Because for those who live by the flesh and blood of one who would not take up arms, the one thing necessary is the peace that is given through the cross.

Žižek on “Forced Choice”

2009-12-26T13:26:00.002-05:00

Slavoj Žižek is an interesting philosopher, combining very eclectic interests in Hegel, Marx, the psychoanalyst Lacan, and (surprisingly enough) Christian theology. In the following excerpt, he is explaining the “real” status of freedom—“real” in the sense Lacan uses it, where the thing itself is not real, it does not exist, but it nevertheless has various effects on the world. To use a controversial example, the weapons of mass destruction in Iraq were precisely “real”: though they did not exist, they presented symbolic justification of a war in the Middle East. For Žižek, modern freedom has this same “real-impossible” status:

A few months ago, a Yugoslav student was called to regular military service. In Yugoslavia, at the beginning of military service, there is a certain ritual: every new soldier must solemnly swear that he is willing to serve his country and to defend it even if it means losing his life, and so on—the usual patriotic stuff. After the public ceremony, everybody must sign the solemn document. The young soldier simply refused to sign, saying that an oath depends upon free choice, that it is a matter of free decision, and he, from his free choice, did not want to give his signature tot he oath. But, he was quick to add, if any of the officers present was prepared to give him a formal order to sign the oath, he would of course be prepared to do so. The perplexed officers explained to him that because the oath depended upon his free decision (an oath obtained by force is valueless), they could not give him such an order, but that, on the other hand, if he still refused to give his signature, he would be prosecuted for refusing to do his duty and condemned to prison. . .

In the subject's relationship to the community to which he belongs, there is always such a paradoxical point of choix forcé—at this point, the community is saying to the subject: you have freedom to choose, but on condition that you choose the right thing; you have, for example, the freedom to choose to sign or not to sign the oath, on condition that you choose rightly—that is, to sign it. If you make the wrong choice, you lose freedom of choice itself. And it is by no means accidental that this paradox arises at the level of the subject's relationship to the community to which he belongs: the situation of the forced choice consists in the fact that the subject must freely choose the community to which he belongs, independent of his choice—he must choose what is already given to him. (The Sublime Object of Ideology, 185-6)

What strikes me is exactly the way this analysis confirms the Christian (especially Pauline/Augustinian) understanding of the nature of free will: when one chooses the good (and only the good), then one is truly free! But when one chooses evil, out of a free choice between good and evil, then one becomes bound to the evil and loses “freedom of choice itself.” It is a matter, then, of freely choosing the good set before us, already given us by God and in this way becoming part of the free community (the Church). But God does, paradoxically, command us to choose this freedom: “I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life” (Deut. 30:19). “If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free” (John 8:31-32). To continue to freely choose evil is actually to elect out of the community. For this reason, the logic of excommunication enunciated by Hauerwas is exactly right: “Excommunication is not to throw someone out of the church, but rather an attempt to help them see that they have become a stumbling block and are, therefore, already out of the church. Excommunication is a call to come home. . .” (Matthew, 165).

Catholic Catechism on Married Love

2009-12-09T22:54:00.003-05:00

Catholics have a lot of things going for them, despite what some may think. Sometimes they even say really beautiful things, like this bit from the Catechism, the authoritative book of Catholic teaching:

It can seem difficult, even impossible, to bind oneself for life to another human being. This makes it all the more important to proclaim the Good News that God loves us with a definitive and irrevocable love, that married couples share in this love, that it supports and sustains them, and that by their own faithfulness they can be witnesses to God's faithful love. (Catechism of the Catholic Church, §1648)

Derrida's Interpretive Police

2009-12-03T23:36:00.002-05:00

Derrida is amazingly difficult to understand at points, at others less so. What has become clear (!) to me is that Derrida is not for an unconstrained, undetermined free-play of meanings, but simply has a more-complicated-than-usual view of the context of meaning-making. An important role is played by what he calls the language police:

But there are, first of all, several ways of invoking or of specifying the rules. There are ‘theoretical’ grammarians, linguists, and jurists who state, describe, explain the norm without insisting upon its application, at least is immediate application, by force (physical or symbolic). Other functions consist in eliciting respect for the law and in disposing of a force deemed legitimate to this end. These two types of function, these two ways of ‘fixing’ rules and also, to take up your expression again, of ‘fixing’ the ‘contexts of utterances,’ bring together in a single person the theoretician of right [droit], the legislator (the inventor or first signatory of a constitution himself, or those in whose name he claims to act), and the executive power. (Limited Inc, 134-135)

There are, thus, interpretive police for all language, constraining its meaning. Derrida even goes on to provide a concrete example!

But every institution destined to enforce the law is a police. An academy is a police, whether in the sense of a university of the Académie Française, whose essential task is to enforce respect for and obedience to [faire respecter] the French language, to decide what ought to be considered ‘good’ French, etc. (135)

So at last, I continue to be persuaded that Derrida is not an obscurantist terrorist, but simply a critical idealist of a deeply Enlightenment sort, even where or especially when he is calling this tradition into question.

Hauerwas on Grad School

2009-11-24T01:08:00.002-05:00

Hauerwas, my theologian of choice, has a peculiar talent for being able to reflect theologically on almost anything. There's an essay, for instance, in the book of his I am now reading (“A Better Hope”) on whether pacifists should read murder mysteries. But considering my current place in life, I'm glad he took the time—and he does seem to have impossible amounts of it—to write an essay on (religious ethics in) graduate school:

. . .I want to share with you an insight I had during a retreat of the theology department at Notre Dame. We were having our usual discussion on the same old topic—namely, what does it mean to be “an ecumenical department in a Catholic context”? Some of my colleagues described how they understood what it meant to do systematic theology in the Catholic tradition, or what difference being a Calvinist made for how pastoral theology was done, or how being a Lutheran shaped one's work in historical theology. The discussion made me very uncomfortable since I could not think how being a Methodist made a difference for how I did Christian ethics. I suddenly thought, I am not a Methodist, I went to Yale! Accordingly I do not represent any identifiable religious tradition, but rather I do ethics, or better, I am concerned about the kinds of problems we were taught to think of as ethics at Yale.

I think this insight not unimportant to help understand that any attempt to account for the past and future direction of religious ethics turns on where we went to graduate school. You need only to add the qualification that our graduate school agendas may be modified by where we end up teaching. Yet it is the graduate school, rather than identifiable religious traditions, that determines the way most of us understand or do ethics. If we are what we eat, then insofar as any of us are ethicists, we are where we went. (“A Better Hope: Resources for a Church Confronting Capitalism, Democracy and Postmodernity,” 58-59.)

Now, while Hauerwas speaks specifically of ethics, while I want to do something between systematic and philosophical theology, the same rule applies: graduate schools are likely to suffer from the same detachment from ecclesial traditions that guarantee that one is more determined by a university than by the Church. In the development of religious ethics as a field, Hauerwas marks a definitive shift from training in seminaries to training in graduate schools. Only, however, by immersion in a community of saints (anticipated in a seminary in certain important ways) with practices sufficient to shape the posing of questions and the sources for answers can one resist the fundamentally secular, liberal formation of graduate schools. Like Hauerwas writes in his “The State of the University”: “The question is not whether a university might be open to a knowledge shaped by the practice of the church, but rather whether a church exists to produce a knowledge that is formed by the Gospel” (8).

Hamann on Kant and Enlightenment Philosophy

2009-11-17T21:18:00.002-05:00

The great pretension of modern philosophy is shucking the whole tradition—from the early Greeks all the way up through (and especially!) medieval Christianity—and starting afresh, on truly “scientific” grounds. Hamann, a philosopher writing at the same time as Immanuel Kant, at the height of the Enlightenment, exposes this pretension, noting the ways in which the tradition is (necessarily) smuggled into Kant's philosophy:

. . .in general Hamann accuses the tradition of modern philosophy, beginning with Descartes, of blatant hypocrisy: it claims to be laying a new foundation for the sciences, but it does so disingenuously, building with the materials of the philosophies that preceded it. And herein, Hamann suggests (with his crass use of the word Gemächte, which refers to genitalia), one can see the embarrassing pudenda of “pure reason” and of the Critique in general: the dark, shameful parts, i.e., the unacknowledged dependence upon tradition, which Kant has covered up. Thus, once again we see the importance of shame as a topos of Hamann’s authorship: at almost every turn he is embarrassing the Aufklärer about what they would rather hide, exposing their secret reliance upon the contingencies of history and tradition even as they speak of reason’s virginal purity, necessity, and universality. This is why he cannot help but view the Enlightenment as an extravagant charade: the Aufklärer parade reason like a shrine through the streets, even as they attempt to cover up its secret poverty, limitations, and nakedness. (John R. Betz, After Enlightenment: Hamann as Post-Secular Visionary, 240.)

2 Timothy 3:16

2009-11-09T19:58:00.005-05:00

All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in justice.

Many trying to figure out just what Scripture is understandably plant their feet here. But a bit strangely, they then turn to formal definitions of the qualities of Scripture: as inerrant, infallible, perspicuous, etc. For instance, the “Chicago Statement” states, “the Bible expresses God's truth in propositional statements, and we declare that biblical truth is both objective and absolute,” (VI) and, “the meaning expressed in each biblical text is single, definite and fixed” (VII). This seems awfully far from the full context in which Paul is writing. Paul is imprisoned in Rome, and, as he appears to understand, is about to be martyred. To Timothy he writes:

You, however, know all about my teaching, my way of life, my purpose, faith, patience, love, endurance, persecutions, sufferings—what kinds of things happened to me in Antioch, Iconium and Lystra, the persecutions I endured. Yet the Lord rescued me from all of them. In fact, everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus be persecuted, while evildoers and impostors will go from bad to worse, deceiving and being deceived. But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from whom you learned it, and how from infancy you have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in justice, so that all God's people may be thoroughly equipped for every good work. (2 Timothy 3:10-17)

Paul is about to die and writes with great heart and urgency to one of his closest workers. Paul attempts to persuade Timothy to remain loyal to their common cause of the gospel in the middle of suffering and to “continue in what he has learned” from “the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation.” But right here, Paul inserts an important clause: “because you know those from whom you learned it.” The Scriptures are always given to the Church, to “all God's people,” making wise and being useful for those who continue in witnessing to the gospel together. This is no individual mission. We always receive the Scriptures' true teaching in the company of those called likewise to a faithful witness to the gospel with the whole of our lives.

Finally, there is the question of what exactly “God-breathed” means. For all the finagling over definitions, the resonances with creation should have been obvious: “Then the Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being” (Genesis 2:7). The Scriptures are about something far more serious than truth and error, especially in any narrow sense—they're about life and death. But they're only about life and death because they point always with outstretched finger to the crucified God in whom alone is the breath of being carried up into resurrection even beyond the cruelty of death, particularly death on a cross. So:

In the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who will judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom, I give you this charge: Preach the word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction. (2 Timothy 4:1-2)

Evangelicals and Catholics on the Virgin Mary

2009-11-03T22:29:00.002-05:00

The ecumenical group, “Evangelicals and Catholics Together,” have recently released a joint statement on the Virgin Mary, called “Do Whatever He Tells You,” a quote from the Cana wedding in John 2. Certainly a statement from evangelicals and Catholics on the Virgin Mary would say some interesting things, like this from the Catholics:

In drawing closer to Mary, we are drawn closer to Christ, for the entirety of her being is devoted to Christ, and her one will for his disciples is “Do whatever he tells you” (John 2:5). Devotion to Mary, the fully redeemed creature, is directed to the adoration of Christ, true God and true man.

And this from the evangelicals:

For Luther, Mary is the workshop (fabrica) in which God operates to bring about the salvation of the world. Mary is the person and place where God has chosen to enter most deeply into the human story. She is the one who hears the Word of God (fides ex auditu), the one who responds in faith and thus is justified by faith alone (WA 7, 573). The Reformed tradition is more reticent, yet both Zwingli and Bullinger joined in the “Hail Mary, full of grace” not as a prayer to Mary but as an expression of praise in honour of her. Calvin too referred to Mary as “the treasurer of grace” and spoke of how Christ “chose for himself the virgin’s womb as a temple in which to dwell” (Institutes 2.14.1).

A hopeful sign, certainly.

Rowan Williams on Noah and the Environment

2009-10-19T22:32:00.003-04:00

Rowan Williams, Archbishop of Canterbury, recently gave an address on environmental justice and the urgent need for a recovery of human self-understanding: as called to connection with the material world and responsibility for its future. Beginning with a reflection on the story of Noah, he travels “some way from Mount Ararat” to the current ecological crisis and offers some incisive criticism. Here's a snippet:

So we must begin by recognising that our ecological crisis is part of a crisis of what we understand by our humanity; it is part of a general process of losing our 'feel' for what is appropriately human, a loss that has been going on for some centuries and which some cultures and economies have been energetically exporting to the whole world. It is a loss that manifests itself in a variety of ways. It has to do with the erosion of rhythms in work and leisure, so that the old pattern of working days interrupted by a day of rest has been dangerously undermined; a loss of patience with the passing of time so that speed of communication has become a good in itself; a loss of patience which shows itself in the lack of respect and attention for the very old and the very young, and a fear in many quarters of the ageing process – a loss of the ability to accept that living as a material body in a material world is a risky thing.

Hauerwas on the Lord's Prayer

2009-10-11T16:04:00.002-04:00

But the disciples also pray that what the Father has willed in his Son will be done over the whole earth. To pray that God's will be done is to pray that our wills be schooled to desire that God's will be done. Our wills, the will of the world, will nail Jesus to the cross. But God defeated our willfulness, making it possible for us to pray that God's will be done on earth.

That is why we should not ask for more than our daily bread. Only on the basis of the work of Christ is it possible for us to ask for no more than our daily bread. Just as God supplied Israel daily with bread in the wilderness, so followers of Jesus have been given all they need in order to learn to depend on one another on a daily basis. Without the community that Jesus has called into existence, we are tempted to hoard, to store up resources, in a vain effort to insure safety and security. Of course our effort to live without risk not only results in injustice, but it also makes our own lives anxious, fearing that we never have enough (Matt. 6:19-21). In truth, we can never have enough if what we want is the bread that the devil offered Jesus. But Jesus is good news to the poor (11:4), for he has brought into existence a people who ask for no more than their daily bread. (Matthew, 78).

Palpation

2009-10-05T13:33:00.001-04:00

round the cusp of the world
with delicate and nimble tosses
tapped into play
come youthful joy, one smile
and leaves released from hangers

the singular slowness
excitable yet reticent
of being
awash in tendered embraces
the titillation of seed

new sprung une pauvre, grinding
clothes in water dirt
filtering a dialect as close
and ancient as the breast
profferred to her ragged beloved

whose untoothed mother bears
yet the titanic sword of history
commiserator with branch and quetzal
and land brimming
with lust against death

squatting to the new day
a lean-to of avid Father
donor of quizzical charity
and receiver back of Son
once marooned:

as it was in the beginning
so it is now
and so it evermore shall be
world without end
hallelujah
amen

Sonorous Folds

2009-10-03T18:47:00.001-04:00

votive flowers—
this one blooming, that one now folding—
diminutives of the divine glory

children romping
(four and eight years now)
laughing in arabic

and i becoming,
fully and finally,
a body.

“Divine Flu”

2009-09-20T19:50:00.001-04:00

Well frigging done.

The Religious and the Secular

2009-09-09T23:46:00.004-04:00

A lot of words are being thrown about regarding a so-called “return of religion” and the “post-secular” age in which we are now living. Amidst the apparent confusion of the once neatly divided “religious” and “secular” realms, it is crucial to realize the relative novelty of this separation:

The concept of “the secular,” as we use the term today in reference to a domain of social and political life that is decisively non-religious, is relatively new, dating only to the sixteenth century. Prior to the sixteenth century, the term “secular” was still closely related to its meaning within Latin Christendom of “age” (saeculum), and secondarily related to the idea of the present, temporal, mundane world in distinction to the divine and spiritual realm of eternity. This distinction is not equivalent, however, to the distinction between the profane and the sacred, or to our own between the secular and the religious. This inequivalence is due to the fact that, in medieval Christendom, even the saeculum was considered religious. The doctrine of creation meant that everything, including everything in the saeculum, is ultimately related to God (religio); whence Augustine’s characterization of the saeculum as a “mixture” of the earthly city (whose citizens ignore God and love themselves) and the city of God (whose citizens love God first and everything else on that basis). The distinction to make within the Middle Ages, therefore, is not between a purely secular realm and a purely religious realm, but between a mixed secular-religious realm (this world) and a purely religious realm (the other world—heaven), the former subordinated under the latter. (Cauchi, “The Secular to Come,” 3)

This careful historical observation reminds me of the grand, almost mythical, opening of Milbank's “Theology and Social Theory”: “Once, there was no secular.”

“A University for the Poor”

2009-09-02T22:02:00.002-04:00

The schedule is up for the “Teaching, Learning and Christian Practices” conference at Calvin College this October. I'll be speaking (during the sixth breakout session) on “A University for the Poor: Poverty, Charity and Vision in Hauerwas' University.” Exciting!

Reading the Bible

2009-09-02T21:34:00.002-04:00

Rowan Williams delivered a lecture in 2007 called, “The Bible: Reading and Hearing.” I think it's the best (though very dense) explanation of the nature of Scripture I've ever read. It's well worth reading. Here's a taste:

If it [the Bible] is not the present vehicle of God speaking in the risen Christ, it is a record only of God speaking to others. For it to be an address that works directly upon self and community now, it must be given to us as the continuation of the same act, the re-presenting and re-enacting of the same scriptural reality of invitation and the creation of a people [that we see in Israel and Christ ...]

If you read it closely, carefully and repeatedly, you will have saved yourself many books.

A Woman Clothed With the Sun

2009-08-16T18:07:00.002-04:00

a soft hymn,
gleaming,
over the way struggles

with feeblest intonation,
virginal intention

the curtain is
motheringly
riven:

a glimmering note
alit,
coated in eternity.

stones reset
in the vineyard
of naboth

and all rome genuflects

as the daughter’s lips
part
and blood rushes forth.

The Guilty Pleasure of Reading Hauerwas

2009-08-15T11:51:00.004-04:00

Because he has footnotes that say things like this:

I have discovered that there exist stories about what I have said in this or that circumstance that are not true. For example, I have been introduced at least three times with a story that is not true. It seems I was in Cambridge walking across the Yard at Harvard trying to find my way to the library. I am alleged to have stopped an undergraduate and asked, “Can you tell me where the library is at.” The student responded, “We do not end sentences with prepositions at Harvard.” To which I responded, “Can you tell me where the library is at, asshole.” I realize this is the kind of story that seems so true it should be true, but in fact it did not happen. Of course “did not happen” may be an inadequate way to understand “true.” (The State of the University, 133)

HT: Halden.

“Sherpa on a Sacred Mountain”

2009-08-14T01:18:00.001-04:00

If anyone is interested, Comment Magazine has published (online) my review of David Dark's intriguing book, “The Sacredness of Questioning Everything.” Take a look!

N.T. Wright, “Justification”

2009-08-02T23:18:00.003-04:00

I've just dipped into N.T. Wright's new book, “Justification: God's Plan and Paul's Vision.” And already something (as is usual when reading Wright) has hooked my attention:

Second, the question [of justification] is about the means of salvation, how it is accomplished. Here John Piper, and the tradition he represents, have said that salvation is accomplished by the sovereign grace of God, operating through the death of Jesus Christ in our place and on our behalf, and appropriated through faith alone. Absolutely. I agree a hundred percent. There is not one syllable of that summary that I would complain about. But there is something missing—or rather, someone missing. Where is the Holy Spirit? In some of the great Reformed theologians, not least John Calvin himself, the work of the Spirit is every bit as important as the work of the Son. But you can't simply add the Spirit on at the end of the equation and hope it will still have the same shape. Part of my plea in this book is for the Spirit's work to be taken seriously in relation both to Christian faith itself and to the way in which that faith is “active through love” (Galatians 5:6).

Amen and amen and amen!

Ringing and Ancient Bell

2009-07-15T22:09:00.000-04:00

ringing and ancient bell,
call us all together
succour from calumny,
give voice your word
your siren balm

yield to me, horn of david
my Chinese brother
call me all tend
his sullen cell encrusted
in the terrors of his state

surrender to me, adamic flute
my Indian sister
from hindu nationalist (love him!) shielding
with tears a universe wide
her sacred and tremulous child

deign to offer me, song of moses
my Rwandan father
his sheep one and all
battered and splayed
their chorus hands remember

give me, give me, eloi-song
to know how long!
to wear the robe of the little longer
with blood and impatience and mourning
for the no longer under the throne

this day, today i seek i call
to the four angel trumpets:
speak, resound and let the earth
now give up her dead
give up her dead

And Ten Thousand

2009-07-05T16:54:00.004-04:00

now, infinitely and always—
MONDAY-FRIDAY 1900EST—
we wildly cast about for harbour
while larynx, tongue and hypothalamus
are siphoned,
nectars dipped and stilted,
brewing the acrimonious engine.

080818850702188712241887
022119030411190304221903
091219181107191811111918
07031937—(INAUDIBLE)—0518194211221942
112519631023196401251965

flee, sir francis! flee, leonardo!
flee, thomas, with your serpent sun!
flee, sweet charles! (take the finches!)
your madness sickly demons have awakened:
their potencies sow the air
and Electricity singes our souls.

there are no more mysterious
names:
all are scintillatingly archived,
catalogued
and dispatched.

01071975 COMPUTER STOPPED AT 10:07 AM, RESUMED AT 10:50 AM. TRADING HALTED 43 MINUTES. 01151975 COMPUTER STOPPED AT 1:24 PM, RESUMED AT 1:45 PM. TRADING HALTED 21 MINUTES. 02071975 COMPUTER FAILURE – TRADING HALTED 10:24 AM, RESUMED 11:00 AM. 02121975 FLOOR CLOSED AT 2:30 PM DUE TO SNOWSTORM. 04091975 COMPUTER FAILURE 10:09 AM, TRADING RESUMED 10:35 AM. TRADING HALTED 26 MINUTES.

and all our desires
tightly indexed.

yet day precisely fades
on mortal cue
and night effulgent cackles
and day a day again goes about its work
and Electricity singes our souls.

(‘the world is flat,’ they now say,
except for the radical clerics,
in their irrational discourse.)

TRADING REOPENED MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 2001, AT 9:33 AM FOLLOWING TWO MINUTES OF SILENCE IN HONOR OF THE VICTIMS OF THE ATTACK ON THE WORLD TRADE CENTER AND THEN THE SINGING OF GOD BLESS AMERICA.

and we drink coffee,
and we drink,
and we drink our own blood
worriedly,
as it spurts and jets violently from the vein
in longitudinal projection—
AN AMORTIZATION PERIOD OF UP TO 15 YEARS IS ALSO AVAILABLE.
INTEREST IS PAID MONTHLY.—
(the tourniquet as yet uninvented, being unnecessary)
and we drink.

and, bodiless, Electricity singes our souls.

Glory

2009-07-02T21:59:00.000-04:00

not even moses
saw the back of God as you have:
its tender slope,
the dexterous small,
and its lineaments of tears.

Howling Waste

2009-06-27T22:30:00.004-04:00

if i ever forget you,
o Poor of the earth,
may my tongue cling
to the roof of my mouth—
acid, and restless.

the rabid texture of your walls—
insipid, deified, dedicated—
bespeak a suffering deeper than bone,
more internal than blood and heartbeat.

o Poor one,
you, YOU, ‘o faceless,’ i whisper
(—do i know You?),
stumble into hatreds,
traversing brick and concrete
that reflect only disgust

shaking, trembling,
into the gait
of an indifferent world,
pitiless (and) infinite

slipped
in the world,
thankless and fallen,
thankless and fallen.

Generic Nature Poem 001

2009-06-07T22:30:00.003-04:00

nature creaks, dissolute
(accursed Maternity)
angular and precisely deformed
betraying an osteoporotic abandonment:
a factory unutilized, a Womb long barren

lockstep spawn devour it
disemboweling its cavernous folds
till, fleshless, it cascades into
a timèd sun, evacuated
—under our eye
it will be more than what it is!—

Mother holding son and weeping,
weeping for the coldness of his stare

Where(,) God?

2009-06-02T22:38:00.001-04:00

exilic intonations
chain-linked dismissal, sighing
across borders and hungers and legality

crossings in (divine) absentia
in the cataclysm of your transmissions
a(b)surd saturation, devoid of potency
image without sight and speech without a name

a bush whose burning consumes it

oracular dysfunction—
ocular distention
and hospitality is plugged up
its wells are foreign, transgressive
a still-living grain

¿dónde está(s,) Dios?—
so riot the enemies of the (e)State
improprious purveyors of their foreign justice

crumbs and fear will be their bread!
and execution their forehead mark,
in the night of illegible passion, fiery inscription

haec dicit Dominus
on king’s walls, in palaces of invisible hands:
because we have not loved God

God we have not loved because
God’s young you have ravaged and left to bleed
out, in the desert of your ascent
God’s face i have not seen,
though eternally, its eyes tear
in blood and unwant

Žižek on Judas

2009-06-01T13:44:00.002-04:00

With the recent craze surrounding the Gospel of Judas recently discovered, claiming that Judas is the real tragic hero and faithful disciple of the Gospel story, I found this quote from philosopher Slavoj Žižek quite interesting:

[...] the final rehabilitation of Judas as the real tragic hero of this story: he was the one whose love for Christ was the greatest, and it was for this reason that Christ considered him strong enough to fulfil the horrible mission of betraying him, thus assuring the accomplishment of Christ's destiny (the Crucifixion). The tragedy of Judas was that in the name of his dedication to the Cause, he was prepared to risk not only his life but even his 'second life', his posthumous good name: he knows very well that he will enter history as the one who betrayed our Saviour, and he is prepared to endure even that for the fulfilment of God's mission. Jesus used Judas as a means to attain his goal, knowing very well that his own suffering would be transformed into a model imitated by millions (imitatio Christi), while Judas' sacrifice is a pure loss without any narcissistic benefit. Perhaps he is a little like the faithful victims of the Stalinist monster trials who confessed their guilt, proclaimed themselves miserable scum, knowing that by so doing they were accomplishing the last and highest service to the Cause of the Revolution. (The Sublime Object of Ideology, 127 n.11)

Preposterous, but interesting!

Ora et Labora

2009-05-31T14:12:00.002-04:00

blank stares, faces of oxen and land bewildered
in Time’s bitter unfolding against itself, drowning
all tears,
a river of brick and want and sorrow.

this is a voiceless clamour,
a daily tail dragging leprous rock and sweat
gathered by four angels and four winds

upward. inward, to spirit, Spirit whose moans
caress the earth and beg its beginning
flesh, a work absent quarry and colony—
the removal of stones from death’s memory.

‘here, here, this is to pray:’
speak ending and saint and namelessness,
‘not at (un)doing’s end, but as
doing/’s wine and return and garden.’

Torture and the Eucharist

2009-05-18T23:36:00.004-04:00

Torture is a kind of theater in which people are made to play roles, and thereby reinforce a certain kind of social imagination. The Abu Ghraib photos lay this dynamic out for all to see. The detainees in the photos are made to play the role of deviant, of the filth that the terrorist is in the morality play that we call the War on Terror. Hooded, contorted, stacked naked, chained to cages, cowering before snarling dogs, covered with excrement, dragged around on leashes, made to masturbate and howl in pain, the prisoners become what terrorists are in our imagination: depraved subhumans. The imagination of the War on Terror is inscribed on their bodies in a kind of ritual drama, or anti-liturgy [....]

The Eucharist is about the construction of a social body—the Body of Christ—that is capable of resisting the imagination of the state when resistance is called for [....] If the Church is the Body of Christ, the sacrament and sacrifice for the world, then we are to be broken and given away as food for others. The Church is, as Paul says, to “make up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions” (Col. 1:24), by suffering together with the victims of violence. If it is the case that the Eucharist makes the Body of Christ, then the Church does not simply commemorate God’s “no” to violence, but embodies God’s answer to violence in the world. We ourselves prefer to absorb the violence of the world rather than to perpetrate violence. (William T. Cavanaugh, “Telling the Truth about Ourselves.”)

The Eucharist, as Cavanaugh (a student of Hauerwas!) teaches us, is about the formation of “a certain kind of social imagination,” a certain way of seeing the world together with others. Specifically, the Eucharist teaches us that there is no friend/enemy division with those who call themselves Christians, for we were all once enemies of God but are now called his friends. Thus we learn we have no enemies, or better, we are all enemies called together to share at one table in one body.

Reading Derrida as a Critical Realist

2009-05-14T12:19:00.005-04:00

I am becoming increasingly convinced that Derrida must be read as a critical realist, not as some pernicious denier of truth or purveyor of “creative anti-realism” or “cheerful nihilism.” Derrida himself bluntly denies the claim: “I am shocked by the debate around this question of relativism [....] If I want to pay attention to the singularity of the other, the singularity of the situation, the singularity of language, is that relativism? If I say that there is the English and the French language and I have to pay attention to these differences, is the attention paid to these differences relativism? [....] I take into account differences, but I am no relativist” (Hospitality, Justice and Responsibility, 78, 79). Perhaps there is a better way to read him, to read him closely, as Derrida himself would wish?: “So this charge against me amounts to obscurantism, and is issued by people who don’t read” (79).

The Lost Community

2009-05-12T10:20:00.003-04:00

La communauté perdue, ou rompue, peut être exemplifiée de toutes sortes de manières, dans toutes sortes de paradigmes : famille naturelle, cité athénienne, république romaine, première communauté chrétienne, corporations, communes ou fraternités — toujours, il est question d'un âge perdu où la communauté se tissait de liens étroits, harmonieux et infrangibles, et se donnait surtout à elle-même, dans ses institutions, dans ses rites et dans ses symboles, la représentation, voire l'offrande vivante de sa propre unité, de son intimité et de son autonomie immanentes. (La communauté désoeuvrée, 29-30.)

The lost, or broken, community can be exemplified in all kinds of ways, by all kinds of paradigms: the natural family, the Athenian city, the Roman Republic, the first Christian community, corporations, communes, or brotherhoods—always it is a matter of a lost age in which community was woven of tight, harmonious, and infrangible bonds and in which above all it played back to itself, through its institutions, its rituals, and its symbols, the representation, indeed the living offering, of its own immanent unity, intimacy, and autonomy. (The Inoperative Community, 9.)

I think Jean-Luc Nancy, the author of this quote, is fundamentally wrong—at least on his characterization of the first Christian community. A reading of Acts and Paul's letters will show far less than a “lost age” of “tight, harmonious, and infrangible bonds.” The idyllic passage in Acts 2:44, “All the believers were together and had everything in common,” the height of community and communication of goods, comes before the community is, properly speaking, “Christian.” And by the time the church of Antioch arises and the designation “Christian” is given for this strange mix of Jews and Greeks (11:26), the Church is in serious disarray: the baptizing of an Ethiopian, conversion of Saul the murderer, persecution in Jerusalem, Spirit-filling of Cornelius the Roman, and Peter's vision regarding the abrogation of kosher laws all contribute to a great commotion that demands the calling of the first council at Jerusalem (Acts 15). However, lest this little act of community politics be thought to restore order, Paul writes Galatians (esp. 2:11-14). The Christian community is always already a disorderly community, a broken body. In the end, the Church is the community of the Eucharist.

Nancy on Individualism

2009-05-03T21:25:00.003-04:00

Jean-Luc Nancy, a French philosopher, writes these provocative words on the impotence of individualism:

L'individualisme est un atomisme inconséquent, qui oublie que l'enjeu de l'atome est celui d'un monde.

Individualism is a thoughtless atomism, which forgets that with an atom, a world is at stake. (La communauté désoeuvrée, 17)

The political thought of our age, the theories that led to the founding of the constitutional democracies we enjoy (more or less) as citizens of Canada, the US and other western nations, assume individualism. Nancy suggests, in other words, our own societies are castles in the sky, they rest on air.

Ahmadinejad Speaks At UN Racism Conference

2009-04-23T17:32:00.002-04:00

President of Iran Mahmoud Ahmadinejad spoke on April 20th to open a UN conference on Racism. Previously he has denied the historicity of the Holocaust and called for the elimination of Israel. Pretty terrifying, but you can read the full text of his UN speech here. The most disturbing section:

After the Second World War, by exploiting the holocaust and under the pretext of protecting the Jews [the UN Security Council] made a nation homeless with military expeditions and invasion. They transferred various groups of people from America, Europe and other countries to this land. They established a completely racist government in the occupied Palestinian territories. And in fact, under the pretext of making up for damages resulting from racism in Europe, they established the most aggressive, racist country in another territory, i.e. Palestine.

The Security Council endorsed this usurper regime and for 60 years constantly defended it and let it commit any kind of crime.

Hauerwas and Suffering

2009-04-13T13:36:00.003-04:00

Hauerwas has had the most influence on my thinking in the last year. I was trying to remember where I first ran into his writings. Well, this is it, a quote from his God, Medicine and Suffering:

There is no hope for us if our only hope in the face of suffering is that we can “learn from it,” or that we can use what we learn from the treatment of that suffering to overcome eventually what has caused it ... or that we can use suffering to organize our energies to mount effective protests against oppression. Rather, our only hope lies in whether we can place alongside the story of the pointless suffering of a child a story of suffering that helps us know we are not thereby abandoned. This, I think, is to get the question of “theodicy” right. (34)

Amen. Thankfully, in Easter we have passed through just such a story.

Holy Saturday

2009-04-11T23:23:00.001-04:00

descendit ad Inferos
exorcised from the father’s arms
not the god of the Dead but of the living
borne—o pietà!—to the depths
where they praise you no more

kill and crucify! crucified him!
Mother mary, how, o how you weep this day
for your son of Darkness
tears enough to drain a way for crossing

devastated orbits and darkened gravity—all shudders
all hangs suspended, en attente de la réponse
das Nichtige consumes, consumes and is not satisfied

with the blood of the Saint
from whose amber stretches rise. rise

he is the Living god
at dawn

Theses on Epistemology

2009-04-07T11:20:00.010-04:00

Epistemology is a fancy word for how we know things. As one of Redeemer's profs loves to say, it's how to go about knowing things in order that you can trust the results of the knowing process. I have a few ideas about what this should look like:

1. The knowing process is fundamentally characterized as caritative attention.

“Caritative” here is from the Latin caritas, which is where we get our word “charity” from. In other words, then, we go about knowing by paying charitable attention to the things or people we wish to know (about). There are some possible synonyms for this phrase, then, that could shed some helpful light: we could also call this posture careful listening, concerned attunement, compassionate attending to, or charitable attending. I have all of these broad ideas in mind when I use the phrase “caritative attention.”

2. Caritative attention is a focused activity and always has a content.

There are really two points here: first, paying attention involves focusing upon a particular thing or person in our experience. In listening carefully to a friend's sorrow or the close argument of a text, we are both heightening our awareness of the focus of our attention and screening out much of the rest of the world. Second, caritative attention is intentional (Husserl), meaning it is always attending to something, consciousness of something. It is never empty.

3. The tentativeness or incompleteness of our knowledge must be acknowledged.

Humility in our knowing is a fundamental element of the posture of caritative attention. We know in part, and our judgments of understanding should stand always open to correction from new insights or other persons. The communal process of knowing the world in which we find ourselves is a generations-long task that must be continually reopened. This involves the difficult work of clarifying others' positions in conversations or fresh rereadings of old texts—particularly Scripture.

4. The criterion of true knowledge is not “objectivity” but rather “charitableness.”

While especially true of our knowledge of others, since knowledge is attitude-forming and formed, this criterion is also true of the non-human creation. In regards to the animals and plants, the other living creations of God, our investigations should attend to their health and well-being. With regards to all, the creation is an ordered but vivified, overflowing gift of the one crucified and risen God.

5. All knowledge has the formal structure of revelation.

The world is not encapsulated in our consciousness, not even latently, but really exists out there and appears to us. This means that knowledge is not acquired or grasped fundamentally—not, in other words, comprehended—but instead received as gift. Knowledge comes to us, gives itself to us in moments of appearing or “revelation,” in a structural sense. Of course, here, the world's appearing is not divine revelation, but only like it in the sense of being given (Marion).

6. Various structures and impulses shape our perceptions of the world.

Knowledge is not neutral or objective and rationality is not universal. “Structures,” very broadly speaking, constrict and inform our understanding of the world. These include, for example, the structures of our perceiving and judging faculties, textual-cultural traditions, social institutions and the nature of time. “Impulses” push our attention in various directions. Examples include curiosity, disgust, stress, peer pressure, the Spirit, compassion and love.

7. Knowledge is communal, and properly located in the Church.

The site of knowledge is not the knowing, conscious self, but rather the communities of which that self is a part. Knowledge is properly participation in, a sharing in the accumulated understanding of a traditioned community. The practices of a community produce its knowledge: in the academy, this includes laboratory testing or close reading; in the Church, this includes attending to God's Word and Spirit, baptism and the Eucharist. The proper communal site of all human knowing is the Church gathered and scattered, as that community that has received from God the truth about the world and its state.

8. Our knowledge is situated by founding stories.

In relation to our self-understanding, this includes, for example, the stories of our birth and baptism, our family histories, and our childhood. For the Church, these founding stories are contained in the “grand reçit” (Lyotard) or broad narrative of Scripture. The understanding of Scripture has been shaped by the unfolding of the Church's life under the guidance and gifts of the Spirit.

9. Embodied persons or spirited bodies are the “subjects” (or the “what comes after the subject” [Nancy]) of knowledge.

Perception of the world around us is not aimed at lifting out abstracted ideas, but properly continues to be an embodied presence. Thus sight is not the primary or only mode of attending to the world, but the process involves also listening to a stranger's sigh, receiving a friend's encouraging touch and the scent of incense. There are also necessary physiological limits to knowing, then, which means that the ability to exercise caritative attention is limited by energy and the need for sleep, which is properly a rest in God.

10. While the beginning of knowledge is “wonder” (Aristotle) or the “interesting” (Deleuze), the end of knowledge is (a kind of) worship.

Growing in knowledge is not an end-in-itself nor a self-aggrandizing project, but rather has as its aim the return to the gathered body of the Church in worship. The same hands that comfort the brokenhearted are lifted in praise to the God who cares deeply for them. The same tongues that speak cultural goods into being are employed to utter the thousand languages of God's glory. All our embodied lives are returned to the God who made them, as recognition of the revelation that all is gift. And then we return to the world around us for a kind of worship: a faithful, loving action in the world that rests in God's preemptive grace and brings about the earth's healing. This is done in hopeful attention to the Day when we shall see him as he is (1 John 3:2) and when we shall know fully just as we are fully known by God (1 Cor. 13:12).

The Beauty of Shyness

2009-04-01T21:32:00.002-04:00

I've been using Henri Nouwen's Bread for the Journey recently for my devotions. This was the passage for today:

There is something beautiful about shyness, even though in our culture shyness is not considered a virtue. On the contrary, we are encouraged to be direct, look people straight in the eyes, tell them what is on our minds, and share our stories without a blush.

But this unflinching soul-baring, confessional attitude quickly becomes boring. It is like trees without shadows. Shy people have long shadows, where they keep much of their beauty hidden from intruders’ eyes. Shy people remind us of the mystery of life that cannot be simply explained or expressed. They invite us to reverent and respectful friendships and to a wordless being together in love.

Nouwen's wisdom is so enriching here, especially since I've been making a conscious effort to practice the exact opposite in my life. I've been trying to be more vulnerable, more open, confessing my sins and weaknesses—less shy, in other words. These are good things, but there is a fragile beauty in its opposite as well.

Whose Streams Make Glad the City of God

2009-03-30T16:21:00.002-04:00

word like Water, dripping sunnily like honey
over desert places, faces encrusted with lamentation
and the brokenness of meaning-making,
upturned—crestfallen—to a cataclysmic son
and adumbrations of a fire already kindled.

curses of tongue-rot and barren wombs
undone, unsewed by the Waters of Moriah
the radiance of natal faith
life, life, O son and no more death;
peace, peace, when there is none. to drink

dust and ash for seven days
and whole lives, the whole of life, parched
seeking l’Arche du salut, a country of their own
eyes failing for the son of David—kyrie eleison!
lesions patched with better sacrifices.

produce ye words in keeping with repentance
seas dripping from diaconical pens:
there is a Water greater, O imprisoned spirits
what grace! by drowning in Word
you may be no more, ocean. amen.

Wolters on Neocalvinism and Pentecostalism

2009-03-21T20:52:00.002-04:00

I've been thinking much recently about the relation between Neocalvinism—the tradition native to Redeemer UC—and Pentecostalism, my own spiritual heritage. While off doing other things, I stumbled across this quote from Al Wolters, with which I am in complete agreement:

The power, vitality and emotional spontaneity of the charismatic movement, as well as its openness to the charismatic gifts, its emphasis on the effectiveness of prayer, and its acknowledgement of the reality of the demonic are all part of a vibrant biblical Christianity from which Neocalvinism can benefit. On the other hand, I believe that charismatic Christians can derive great benefit from the strengths of Neocalvinism, notably its broad cultural vision of the Christian life, its intellectual sophistication and maturity, and its tradition of responsible biblical exegesis.

It seems to me this describes precisely the ways in which we need to learn from each other.

KivaMap

2009-03-07T15:28:00.002-05:00

For those of you who use Kiva, check this out. It's a new app using Google Maps that shows you where the last 100 loans have gone in the world. Pretty nifty. Also, if you don't use Kiva (or know what it is!), check them out. Kiva is a micro-finance organization that allows one-on-one lending between wealthy generous individuals (like everyone reading this) and poor entrepreneurs in the third world. Pretty amazing work they're doing!

The Gift of Community

2009-03-05T18:09:00.002-05:00

Since chapel yesterday I've been thinking on the life of Christian community. Whenever I get to thinking about this, my mind goes to Dietrich Bonhoeffer's book Life Together. In particular, I often think of this passage, which I've shared before:

Innumerable times a whole Christian community has broken down because it had sprung from a wish dream. The serious Christian, set down for the first time in a Christian community, is likely to bring with them a very definite idea of what Christian life together should be and to try to realize it. But God's grace speedily shatters such dreams [....] Whoever loves their dream of a community more than the Christian community itself becomes a destroyer of the latter, even though their personal intentions may be ever so honest and earnest and sacrificial. (26-27)

I was reminded of this passage again as I was reading Henri Nouwen on solitude:

In solitude we become aware that we were together before we came together and that life is not a creation of our will but rather an obedient response to the reality of our being united [....] In solitude we indeed experience that community is not made but given. (Clowning in Rome, 14, 13.)

Amos 6:5-7

2009-02-26T09:45:00.004-05:00

You strum away on your harps like David and improvise on musical instruments. You drink wine by the bowlful and use the finest lotions, but you do not grieve over the ruin of Joseph. Therefore you will be among the first to go into exile; your feasting and lounging will end.

The ruin of Joseph. Apparently this is just a reference to Israel as a whole, taking the one brother as a stand in for the twelve (Birch, 228). I find it significant, however, that Joseph was the brother envied by the eleven—or, at least Leah's six sons—and sold into slavery. In Amos' time, when he receives this word, most of the people of Israel are in exile in Assyria and Egypt. Yet the upper classes are able to maintain a measure of prosperity and wealth still in the land. They thus flaunt their wealth without concern for their ruined homeland which needs rebuilding, and more importantly, their poor brother and sister—their brother sold into slavery.

Birch calls this a pattern of “conspicuous consumption” (227). It would have been visible and obvious to anyone watching that Israel's wealthy were enjoying themselves on the backs of their own poor. This seems not too different a way of life than today, where our privilege allows us to enjoy our guitars, wine and shampoos while most of the world lives in desolate poverty. Joseph is ruined and our exile may not be too many days away.

2009

2009-02-19T01:30:00.002-05:00

Well, it's getting towards the end of February, but I finally have settled on a few goals for 2009:

Be more loving.
Be more gentle.
Be more patient.
Be more others-centered.
Be less proud.
Be less hurried.

Really, I could sum all these up and more by saying: be a better person, be more like Jesus.

Kierkegaard on Constructing the Self

2009-02-17T17:12:00.002-05:00

In order to understand the following quote from philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, a bit of background on terminology is required. This passage comes from a book about despair, which, for Kierkegaard, arises out of a wrong relation of the self to itself and also to God, the eternal. The self—my self, myself—is a synthesis or unity of two elements: first, necessity or concreteness (also, finitude), which refers to the given elements that make up who I am (e.g., personality, attitudes, talents, location); and second, possibility or abstraction, which refers to the openness to forging in some new direction, taking up some new possibility, transcending the current circumstance. Hopefully that will help a bit with the following brilliant passage on self-construction:

In order to want in despair to be oneself [one form of despair], there must be consciousness of an infinite self. However, this infinite self is really only the most abstract form of the self, the most abstract possibility of the self. And it is this self the despairer wants to be, severing the self from any relation to the power which has established it [that is, God], or severing it from the conception that there is such a power. By means of this infinite form, the self wants in despair to rule over himself, or create himself, make this self the self he wants to be, determine what he will have and what he will not have in his concrete self. His concrete self, or his concreteness, has indeed necessity and limits, is this quite definite thing, with these aptitudes, predispositions, etc., in this concrete set of circumstances, etc. But by means of the infinite form, the negative self, he wants first to undertake to refashion the whole thing, in order to get out of it a self such as he wants, produced by means of the infinite form of the negative self—and it is in this way he wants to be himself. That is to say, he wants to begin a little earlier than other people, not at and with the beginning, but “in the beginning”; he does not want to don his own self, does not want to see his task in his given self, he wants, by virtue of being the infinite form, to construct it himself. (The Sickness Unto Death, 82-3.)

I wonder what, taking this text as a key, a Kierkegaardian analysis of atheistic existentialism (à la Sartre, for example) would look like.

Hauerwas on Abortion

2009-02-12T13:13:00.002-05:00

As this week is pro-life week at Redeemer and as many of the typical pro-life arguments are circulating—about the point at which life begins, the right of all people to life—I thought it might be good to provide some reflections from Hauerwas that allow us to see the issue differently, and I think, more Christianly:

Morally speaking, the first issue is never what we are to do, but what we should see. Here is the way it works: you can act only in the world that you can see, and you must be taught to see by learning to say. Steadfastly maintaining the language of abortion is one way of training ourselves as Christians to see and to practice its opposite: hospitality, and particularly hospitality to children and the vulnerable. “Abortion” reminds us of how Christians are to envision life: we are a baptizing people ready to welcome new life into our communities. [....]We are able to have children because our hope is in God, who makes it possible to do the absurd thing of having children. In a world of such terrible injustice, in a world of such terrible misery, in a world that may well be about the killing of our children, having children is an extraordinary act of faith and hope. But as Christians we can have hope in the God who urges us to welcome children. When that happens, it is an extraordinary testimony of faith. [....]The crucial question for us as Christians is what kind of people we need to be to be capable of welcoming children into this world, some of whom may be born disabled and even die. (“Abortion, Theologically Understood,” in The Hauerwas Reader, 611, 615, 619.)

Brueggemann on the Economy

2009-02-09T12:29:00.002-05:00

There is a short article by biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann up on the Sojourners site. Brueggemann reflects biblically on the current economic crisis and has many helpful, though challenging, things to say. His comments remind me of Shane Claiborne's call to move from an “economy of scarcity” to an “economy of generosity.” I find the most potent point here: “The self-sufficient person knows down deep that self-securing and self-satisfaction finally are unachievable, because they represent life in a world where no gifts are given.”

John Locke on Toleration

2009-02-02T12:09:00.005-05:00

Locke, in his treatise, “A Letter Concerning Toleration,” holds to a strong divide between the political authority (the “magistrate”) and the Church. In short, the Church and State are separate and should simply hold to their own areas of authority, not interfering in each other's proper work. He has this to say, though, about the limits of toleration:

That Church can have no right to be tolerated by the magistrate which is constituted upon such a bottom that all those who enter into it do thereby ipso facto deliver themselves up to the protection and service of another prince. (35)

But actually, the Church is in “the protection and service” of another Prince, the Prince of Peace. I think Hauerwas might have something to say about this.

Theology of Suffering

2009-01-31T00:26:00.005-05:00

I think developing a theology of suffering is what sits at the center of my passion. I feel strongly that beginning to think, read, reflect and pray about the suffering of the world—and God's long work of ridding the world of it—is one of the church's most important tasks today. Of course, this is deeply tied to the problem of evil, although NT Wright's work, Evil and the Justice of God, has convinced me that it is best not to attempt to answer, “Why is there evil?” but rather, “What is God doing about it?” And I think we must both begin and end here, with the Lamb “looking as if it had been slain” (Revelation 5:6) making all things new:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God's dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself with be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” (Revelation 21:1-5)

Only the God who will wipe every tear from our eyes has a Word to speak to a world filled with suffering—a world with horrible names like Rwanda and Auschwitz.

2009

2009-01-03T21:37:00.001-05:00

Others can often point out your faults better than you can. Because of this, I'm trying something a little bit different this year. Instead of making up my own list of New Year's resolutions like last year, I'm asking a bunch of friends to tell me what I should work on this year. What are some things I could work on to make me a better human being, more faithful to Jesus?

Nahum 3:16

2008-12-29T23:35:00.005-05:00

You have increased the number of your merchants till they are more than the stars in the sky, but like locusts they strip the land and then fly away.

Global capitalism, anyone? Thanks to Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw for pointing out this great verse (Jesus for President, 188).

Aging and Lent

2008-12-15T16:35:00.004-05:00

The practices of any society form and are formed by that society's beliefs. This is perhaps most evident in the rise of modern medicine:

I think there is no denying that the current enthusiasm for ‘genomics’ (that allegedly will make it possible to ‘treat’ us before we become sick) draws on an extraordinary fear of suffering and death incompatible with [the] observation that luckily time makes us grow old. Our culture seems increasingly moving to the view that aging itself is an illness, and if it is possible, we ought to create and fund research that promises us that we may be able to get out of life alive. I find it hard to believe that such a science could be supported by a people who begin Lent by being told that we are dust and it is to dust we will return. (Hauerwas, The State of the University, 53.)

How might Christians in medicine redirect funding for research initiatives based on our Lenten practices? What might it mean for a Christian physician that “in Christ all will be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:22)?

Weak States

2008-12-09T15:12:00.003-05:00

Much of Stanley Hauerwas' work is directed against the claims of loyalty Western states make on their citizens—claims, for instance, which may require Christians to take up arms to kill others:

No state will keep itself limited, no constitution or ideology is sufficient to that task, unless there is a body of people separated from their nation that is willing to say ‘No’ to the state’s claims on their loyalties [....] Democratic societies and states, no less than totalitarian ones, reserve the right to command our conscience to take up arms and kill not only other human beings but other Christians in the name of relative moral goods. (Against the Nations, 123, 127.)

What about states in the turbulent regions of the Third World? Places where states are in fact not strong enough and order breaks down? What is the Christian responsibility there?

Given the emergence of religion and business as global contexts, we may now have to ask whether the modern state is powerful enough to perform its function in the global order. The weakness of the state in places where resources or people are exploited by business and the breakdown of government in places where religious movements have the capacity to make war are warning signs the state’s place in the new global order is more fragile than it appears to be in Western Europe and North America. (Robin W. Lovin, Christian Realism and the New Realities, 174.)

Might it be the responsibility of Christian communities in these regions to support the growth of more stable, powerful states? Even if it means supporting the deployment of violence against rebel or terrorist groups? How could Christian communities be faithful witnesses to the peaceable kingdom in these weak states?

Missional vs. Seeker-Sensitive Churches

2008-12-08T23:50:00.006-05:00

Apparently there's an important dialogue going on across blogs (in the blogosphere, as some say) about the respective merits of missional churches and attractional (or seeker-sensitive) churches. Here's a phenomenal quote with a stunning reversal:

To apply statistical analysis to the effectiveness of missional [churches] at this point is about as silly as judging the effectiveness of Jesus ministry at the time of his resurrection. (How many were gathered in the Upper Room?)

“Ah but Bill! Look how quickly the church grew after Pentecost.”

“Ah but Friend! Look how soon the Spirit scattered that church to the corners of the earth. And remember that it wasn't until Constantine that anything remotely representing a megachurch came into existence. Oh. Sorry. Yes. The Coliseum does resemble some megachurches. Thanks, Joel [Osteen]. And Christians did provide much of the entertainment, now didn't they.”

Just because churches are entertaining the masses doesn't mean they are doing anything remotely similar to discipleship. See the full article, which deserves reading, here. It's worth reading the initial linked post as well.

The Church and the Spirit's Mission

2008-11-26T00:59:00.004-05:00

Ethicist Oliver O'Donovan offers this interesting perspective on the dynamism of church structures:

The catholic identity of the church derives from the progress of the Spirit's own mission. It is therefore always larger than its ordered structures, taking its shape from the new ground that the Spirit is possessing. It remains for the church's structures to catch up with this mission, to discern what the Spirit has done, and to construct such ordered links of community as will safeguard brotherly love. Informal Christian phenomena are found all around the margins of the structured church, and to deplore the untidiness of the these is simply to betray an ignorance of what that rock is upon which the church is founded. (The Desire of the Nations, 169-170)

I might want to ask the further question, however, about what role the Spirit might play in reclaiming dead centers of the church—and how this might unsettle church structures.

“Jesus Wants to Save Christians”

2008-11-17T23:14:00.003-05:00

This new book from Rob Bell very helpfully unfolds the pervasiveness of empire throughout the history of the Bible. And the way in which America (and Canada, though in smaller ways) exists as an empire today. It's a different area from his first two books, but still in his easy-reading, conversational style. Here's a couple teasers:

The former things didn't work. But the new thing? The new thing will be different. Bigger, wider, ultimate.

God is going to lead all of creation out of the Egypts of death and decay and violence?

Everything?

For the prophets in exile, no vision was too large, no dream too big, no hope too beyond what would happen in the new exodus. (67)

Here's another on America as empire:

America is an empire.

And the Bible has a lot to say about empires.

Most of the Bible is a history told by people living in lands occupied by conquering superpowers. It's a book written from the underside of power. It's an oppression narrative. (121)

The book is worth the $12 for the analysis of America alone or his description of the Eucharist. Very hopeful and imaginative—I'll be lending it around pretty freely.

Remembering as Christians

2008-11-11T16:07:00.006-05:00

I must admit, I feel a fair bit of tension today, this Remembrance Day. I am no longer sure how to remember the events this day marks, because I am no longer sure of the necessity of violence. Of course, I am not 'remembering' exactly, but looking back with my country to the collective, national memory of Canada at war with imperial Germany and her allies. This reminds me that memory and acts of memory are not neutral. Memory involves people in identities and creates them. Our histories, remembered in one way or another, shape who we understand ourselves to be today.

We all participate in various histories, various memories. For example, as an individual, I have personal memories (from my childhood, with my parents, in school); as a Canadian, I participate in a national memory (our peacekeeping legacy, our British inheritances); as a Christian, I participate in the history of God who has come to us in Jesus Christ. Of course, at different times one or another of these histories affects me more deeply. The important question, though, is which history most fully defines us.

There is the haunting possibility that without the Canadian entrance into the two World Wars of the last century, I would also be part of an imperialist, fascist German history (instead of a democratic Canadian one). This terrifying truth need not be definitive, however. It only depends on which of our histories we see as most determinative. If our identity as Canadian trumps our identity as Christian, then yes, today is our most important act of remembrance. If, however, we are first and foremost Christians, then there is another, far more definitive act of remembrance we should recall today:

For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me.” In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes. (1 Corinthians 11:23-26)

So far, I haven't mentioned pacifism (nonviolent resistance), but it actually is hidden in much of what I have said. For if Christ's history defines most fully our own history and identity, our own self-understanding, then our other histories must be evaluated in light of nonviolence. I haven't yet decided how, then, I ought to remember my Canadian heritage properly today, but I know this:

The resurrection of Jesus is the ultimate sign that our salvation comes only when we cease trying to interpret Jesus' story in the light of our history, and instead we interpret ourselves in the light of his. (Hauerwas, “The Peaceable Kingdom,” 136-137)

No Wonder Hauerwas Almost Converted

2008-10-30T11:11:00.003-04:00

Check out this quote from the Catechism of the Catholic Church (2306):

Those who renounce violence and bloodshed and, in order to safeguard human rights, make use of those means of defense available to the weakest, bear witness to evangelical charity, provided they do so without harming the rights and obligations of other [people] and societies. They bear legitimate witness to the gravity of the physical and moral risks of recourse to violence, with all its destruction and death.

The Transfiguration à la Sufjan Stevens

2008-08-09T00:14:00.002-04:00

Apparently August 6th traditionally marks the Feast of the Transfiguration in the more liturgical Christian traditions (Catholic, Orthodox and Anglican). I'm Pentecostal, so I don't know these things, but I do appreciate Sufjan Stevens.

HT: All Good Naysayers

Leitourgia, Or To Work With Your Hands

2008-06-12T20:48:00.007-04:00

In one of his letters, Paul writes something I have always found “hard to understand” (2 Peter 3.16): “You should mind your own business and work with your hands” (1 Thessalonians 4.11). Never quite taken to manual labour, I have personally struggled with this (somewhat obscure) bit of wisdom. My recent (albeit short-lived) experience in landscaping, however, brought some much-needed insight.

Landscaping, to get right to it, took quite a toll on my hands—chafing, cuts, callouses, peeling skin, dirt and blood. My hands quickly became rougher and less sensitive, almost seeming heavier. Yet with these same hands I was able to earn a living, making the turning of the earth into the tool of God's providence—what might be, in a few years, the religious duty of “providing for ... [one's] own household” (1 Timothy 5.8).

Then, each Sunday, these same hands—now calloused and cut—turned back to the God who “stands beyond creation” in their most proper work (Marion, 327). In the New Testament, leitourgia is the Greek word used for the worship of the church, in other contexts meaning military or other forms of service, including the service of a labourer.

Worship, leitourgia, is our most proper work, the work of God. The high and difficult work of worship is the truest purpose of our created bodies. To (re)turn our hands to God in praise is to (re)direct creation to its proper end and goal, the Creator beyond creation. These hands, bloodied and dirtied, are returned to the very God who gives them life and breath. This is the intimate and beautiful connection between to “work with your hands” and “to lift up holy hands” (1 Timothy 2.8).

PS. I look forward to Rob Bell's upcoming book, “Jesus Wants to Save Christians”, with great anticipation.

A Break, A Breakdown and A Station

2008-03-26T14:13:00.004-04:00

It's been informal for about a month now, but I'm officially taking a fairly long break from the blog. I haven't posted anything constructive since the new year—merely odd links here and there to videos, blogs and upcoming books. What little creativity I have left at this point is devoted entirely to school. For that reason, this blog is under a moratorium—whether temporary or permanent is still a question.

On that note, it's that time of year again. School is bearing down on me. (I have two 15-page papers due tomorrow, and another in a couple weeks.) I'm in the process of deciding between bombing my papers but staying mentally stable or burning myself out (yet again) but doing well in school. Academics is one of the few things I excel at, so the choice is a difficult one.

With the theme of break(ing) in the air, I feel I've reached somewhat of a stopping point in my “theological journeying.” This blog over the last couple years has been a more or less scrambled collection of my attempt to figure out what it means for us as Christians to follow Jesus this side of the millennium. It seems to me now that the answer lies somewhere in the nexus of the following. The Emerging Church as a popular level movement of postmodern Christianity; New Monasticism as its concrete form of practice and life together; and Radical Orthodoxy as the academic theology and critique of (post)modernity behind it.

In my theological journeying, then, I pause at this station, this waypoint.

Monastic Evangelicals

2008-03-08T14:08:00.006-05:00

Christianity Today has a decent, short article on new monasticism here, called, “Monastic Evangelicals.” Far better though is a blog post by Mark Van Steenwyk of Missio Dei called, “What is the New Monasticism?” One of my favourite parts:

For some reason, human beings tend to use words to limit, rather than to inspire. When someone utters the words “new monasticism,” folks immediately attempt to define what the movement is…to understand it in its totality. This is unfortunate, because the word “new” was placed in front of “monasticism” to inspire–to invite someone into reimagination.

I'm also excited about getting my hands on these two new books on new monasticism: New Monasticism: What It Has To Say To Today's Church by Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, and Inhabiting the Church: Biblical Wisdom for a New Monasticism co-authored by Jon Stock, Tim Otto and Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove. Good resources all.

Zacharias, Mohler and Sproul on the Emerging Church

2008-02-27T18:39:00.003-05:00

Three of the most important leaders in the evangelical world today weigh in on the emerging church: the apologist Ravi Zacharias; the president of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, Al Mohler; and the theologian RC Sproul.

I have a few minor points of contention with these guys: first, Mohler calls McLaren relativistic, which is too simplistic and simply not true; and second, Sproul claims the emerging church has an allergy to creeds and confessions, which is also untrue. Many emerging churches subscribe to the creeds of the early church (e.g., Apostles, Nicene)—more than can be said for many evangelical churches. My major complaint, however, is their willingness to place truth above everything else. Truth is phenomenally important—I find myself cheering Mohler along at the end—but I remember Paul saying something like, if I have not love, then I am nothing. If we have a complete grasp on truth, but are not kind, gentle, loving, peaceful, compassionate human beings, there is no value in it.

Forgiving the Unforgivable

2008-02-22T09:02:00.003-05:00

Pete Rollins has an excellent couple of posts over at his (new) blog on the nature of forgiveness, as forgiving the unforgivable. Find them here and here.

à Dieu

2008-02-20T21:13:00.004-05:00

Starting a little work on Jacques Derrida, I've just read his moving funeral oration for fellow philosopher Emmanuel Lévinas, titled “Adieu.” Derrida's reflections are too profound to do them justice, but I'll provide a little snippet here:

One day, on the rue Michel Ange, during one of those conversations whose memory I hold so dear, one of those conversations illuminated by the radiance of his thought, the goodness of his smile, the gracious humor of his ellipses, he said to me: “You know, one often speaks of ethics to describe what I do, but what really interests me in the end is not ethics, not ethics alone, but the holy, the holiness of the holy.” And I then thought of a singular separation, the unique separation of the curtain or veil that is given, ordered and ordained, by God, the veil entrusted by Moses to an inventor or an artist rather than to an embroiderer, the veil that would separate the holy of holies in the sanctuary. And I also thought of how other Talmudic Lessons sharpen the necessary distinction between sacredness and holiness, that is, the holiness of the other, the holiness of the person, who is, as Emmanuel Lévinas said elsewhere, “more holy than a land, even a holy land, since, faced with an affront made to a person, this holy land appears in its nakedness to be but stone and wood.”

“The New Christians”

2008-02-15T10:40:00.004-05:00

Tony Jones, author of the just-released The New Christians: Dispatches from the Emergent Frontier, has generously put up the first chapter of the book on his blog. Tony has been at the forefront of the emerging church movement since its inception. In this first chapter, “Leaving the Old Country,” he helpfully (and creatively!) maps out the territory the emerging church is emerging from. Check it out here.

The Rise of New Monasticism

2008-02-09T14:06:00.001-05:00

An article from the Boston Globe, “The Unexpected Monks,” details the rise of the new monastic (or neo-monastic) movement in contemporary evangelicalism. Apparently, around 100 neo-monastic communities have sprung up in North America over the last five years:

New Monasticism is part of a broader movement stirring at the margins of American evangelicalism: Evangelicals disillusioned with a church they view as captive to consumerism, sectarian theological debates, and social conservatism. Calling themselves the “emerging church” or “post-evangelicals,” these Christians represent only a small proportion of the approximate 60 million evangelical Americans. Yet their criticisms may resonate with more mainstream believers.

This is an excellent article, quoting everyone from Dietrich Bonhoeffer to Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove to Scott Bessenecker to Shane Claiborne. To learn about this exciting, emerging movement, this is a great place to start. See it here.

Ash Wednesday

2008-02-06T12:12:00.000-05:00

Today begins the season of Lent in the Christian calendar, a forty-day period of fasting and repentance imitating Jesus' forty days of temptation in the desert. It is a season of preparation for the holiest season in the calendar, the Passion week and Easter. If I were a good Catholic, I would have only one full meal today, eat no meat on Fridays and other fast days and increase my times of prayer and giving to charity. However, since I'm Pentecostal, I'm just giving up beer and coffee.

The Ethico-Political III: The Judgment Seat

2008-02-04T20:12:00.000-05:00

In speaking of the ethico-political as the core—not only of academia, but of life in general—I am making both a formal and historical claim. The formal claim, which I will deal with in this third part, is that the ethico-political complex ought to stand as judge to any system of thought; the historical claim, to be dealt with in the fourth and final part, is that it always has. The complex of questions that makes up the ethico-political question stands at the center, whether welcomed or berated into the background, of all human life and culture. How I am to live and how we are to govern our lives together—the ethical and political, respectively—form the criterion of judgment which stands behind all judicial systems, and indeed, all governments, societies, cultures, individual lives and communities.

What exactly, however, is the ethico-political? Is it simply a series of penetrating, but answerless, questions? How then can it function as judge over people and systems? If it remains indeterminate, it will forever be ineffective. It will fail to prevent another Auschwitz. The German “final solution” to the question of their relation to the Jewish people was an answer to the ethico-political; however, it was a demoniacally twisted and distorted answer, born from the caverns and crevices of hell itself. What is the true answer to the question of our relation to others? I propose, fairly simply, the answer is Christ. The ethico-political is Christic, Christ-shaped and Christ-like. The crucified God stands in judgment over Auschwitz, over any government, society or culture that would return to that dark hall, reinvoking its demons. Christianity, properly conceived, is the true critical theory. The road away from Auschwitz leads to Golgotha.

The Ethico-Political:
I: The Important Question
II: Core and Periphery
III: The Judgment Seat
IV: The West
V: Postlude on Levinas

“I Do Not Exist”

2008-02-04T19:52:00.000-05:00

A random emerging church blog I've run across has a piece called I Do Not Exist, performed by Peter Rollins, one of my favourite authors—although he has but one book.

The Fidelity of Betrayal

2008-01-23T13:26:00.000-05:00

The second effort of Irish theologian-pastor Peter Rollins, The Fidelity of Betrayal, is ready for pre-order on Amazon. If you haven't yet, pick up his brilliant first book, How (Not) to Speak of God. Cheers.

Week of Prayer for Christian Unity: Day 4

2008-01-22T00:35:00.000-05:00

Community. It's interesting the way these themes fit in with the things of my day. Long story. Join me in prayer:

Father, from whom all families on earth take their name, forgive us for our constant disputes with our brothers and sisters. Forgive us for pitting Your family against itself—three against two and two against three; mother against daughter and father against son. Let us learn instead to more perfectly imitate You, who are Yourself community—Father and Son together in the love and unity of the Spirit.

Teach us by Your Spirit to imitate the community of the least and the marginal which You appointed to carry the gospel to the ends of the earth. Let us seek not the powerful and influential, but rather the poor, the crippled, the blind, the lame, inviting them from east, west, north and south to the great kingdom-feast of God. May this be the vision of our community toward which we strive and into which we hope and live.

This we ask in the name of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ—who for us and for our salvation became man—who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Week of Prayer for Christian Unity: Day 2

2008-01-19T22:42:00.000-05:00

The theme for today is justice, which is fitting—although I didn't plan this—because today was the Faith and Social Justice Conference here at Redeemer. Join me in prayer for justice in our shattered churches.

God of justice and Father of all compassion, establish justice and equity in Your churches. Expose our lies, our conspiracies and our abuses against one another. Do not let the blood of our inner conflicts continue to run in the streets, but establish the reign of Your peace. May we submit ourselves to the rule of Your kingdom, whose seat of judgment is the cross—the God who reigns from the tree.

May each of us pursue justice to the hill of the skull, not seeking to establish our own correctness but instead submitting to one another: “Your will be done.” Move us to give up our pretensions to the seat of judgment, instead preferring to sit in the dirt to wash one another's feet. In this grand act of hospitality, let us welcome as well the poor, the orphan, the immigrant, the refugee, the homeless, the elderly and the widow.

All these things we pray through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. Amen.

Week of Prayer for Christian Unity: Day 1

2008-01-18T17:14:00.000-05:00

Today begins the annual Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. This year is actually the centenary of the week of prayer which began in 1908. To learn more about it, see the BBC article here. The theme verse for this year is, “Pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5.17). As I did last year, I'll be posting my own prayer for each day, focusing on a succession of themes: repentance, justice, forgiveness, community, discipleship, worship, mission and love. Join with me.

Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, we Your people come to You with heavy hearts, cracking under the weight of Your fractured and broken body. Instead of we, the broken, being borne along by You, the Crucified, we have so sinfully attempted each to bear You, the resurrected King, on our own backs. We are those who have been crushed by the rock that falls, the cornerstone.

We come to You as the prodigal son, having wasted our inheritance in the lavish promotion of our own destruction. We do not deserve to be received back into Your home, but will work the fields as Your mere servants. And yet, how You welcome us! Father of all compassion, receive our groans of repentance, that we all may go to Your vineyard together, with one heart and one mind, to gather anew the sheaves of the harvest.

This we ask through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns together with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Bobby Fischer

2008-01-18T14:21:00.001-05:00

Rest in peace.

Brian McLaren on the Kingdom of God

2008-01-14T21:45:00.000-05:00

On Adam Walker Cleveland's blog, there is a guest post by the—by now somewhat legendary—emerging church leader, Brian McLaren, in which he speaks about the kingdom of God. You can find it here. He elaborates many of the same themes I learned from him (and NT Wright) in my post here, but with greater clarity, thoroughness and vision. For more of Brian McLaren's work on the theme of the kingdom of God, see his books, The Secret Message of Jesus and his newest, Everything Must Change.

PopCulture.Jesus

2008-01-09T16:59:00.000-05:00

I'm part of a new community blog, called JWalkers, with a couple great friends, Jeremy Curry and Josh Veldman. We're talking about the relation between Jesus and our culture. Check it out.

2008

2007-12-29T17:28:00.000-05:00

Yup, the new year is almost here. We're all a year older, a year more experienced, and hopefully a year wiser and better for it as well. Looking back on my goals for 2007, I realize I shanked more than one of them. However, a new year is a new beginning. (Something like the resurrection!) Here are some things I need to work on in 2008:

Community:

Spend more time in other people's homes.
Develop a few very close friends; keep in regular contact.

It may be surprising, but on the whole, I'm not a very happy person. Part of it is just my natural temperament, I think, but I also drive myself very hard, putting myself under a lot of (maybe not-so-necessary) pressure. Loneliness doesn't help this, I've found, so I'm going to try to be around people more. I've been meeting with a couple great friends every other week the last little while, and this has been awesome! I'll keep it up.

Money:

Begin tithing again.
Buy fewer books: one per month, not including textbooks.
Keep credit card paid off every month.

I've been terrible with money this last year, especially with my oh-so-shiny credit card. So here's the plan: give some to Jesus, give some to the poor, and spend less on tantalizing books, food and coffee.

Social Justice:

Keep helping out with CrossCulture.
Increase giving to the poor and refugees.
Explore the possibility of getting involved in some sort of inner city ministry.

It takes a lot of effort to place myself outside my comfortable Western bubble to see the needs of the majority of the world. My work with CrossCulture helps clear my vision and gives me an opportunity to help out with local need twice a year, but I need to look as well to the needs of those who suffer in the third world.

Spiritual Growth:

Set aside a regular time for an hour of prayer.
Memorize more of the Bible.

Plain and simple, I suck at praying. I take my own busy agenda far too seriously, and the necessity of a stable life of prayer not seriously enough. So, I'll schedule in an hour of prayer a week and head off to Redeemer's beautiful prayer room. As for the Bible, I've read it a few times and am pretty consistent about daily readings, so I want to improve how well I can recite Scripture. I've been told that's important too.

Learning:

Learn more about continental philosophy.
Learn more about twentieth-century theology (e.g. Barth, von Balthasar).
Learn more about Radical Orthodoxy.
Keep an eye on the emerging church.

Over the last year, my interest—I guess that's the right word—has broadened from theology into areas of philosophy. If I want to be some sort of witness to Christ in academics, I should probably know something about what the most influential people in our society are saying; ergo, philosophy.

The Ethico-Political II: Core and Periphery

2007-12-28T17:47:00.000-05:00

A common, and responsibly accurate, perception of academic thought is that it is disconnected from everyday experience. Tony Jones traces this back to the lingering dominant influence of Plato versus his successor Aristotle (Plato vs. Aristotle [podcast], 22:07). Both the Greek giants distinguished between two kinds of knowledge, but the former drew a harsher line between abstract thought and practical knowledge. Plato termed one kind of knowledge techne, a sort of brute technical knowledge, such as that needed to shape a horseshoe. The other he termed theoria (giving us “theory”) or episteme. This kind of knowledge involved no interaction whatsoever with everyday life, but rather, a pure, abstract contemplation. Wisdom is not gained from involvement in the activities of life; in fact, Plato would claim that this interaction dirties the soul instead of elevating it to knowledge. Aristotle, in contrast, had a much higher view of the earthy and material. Corresponding to the abstract, he taught sophia (meaning, “wisdom”) instead of theoria. Aristotle's sophia was abstract thought that drew out universal truths from particular, concrete situations in the actual world. Closely related was the second type of knowledge, termed phronesis, which was a practical wisdom like Plato's techne which, much differently, dealt with both particulars and universals. Thus, with Aristotle, there was the possibility of technological advances with new (or modified) skills that could emerge, rather than the brute repetition of an age-old technical ability.

This is a sadly lengthy way of coming around to the main point, which is that Western culture (and therefore, academia) has not asked the most important question(s)—the ethico-political question(s). The system that made this possible over the history of the West was, unfortunately, monasticism. The retreat to the cloister made null and void the encounter with the common facets of everyday life, the brute realities of fallen human existence. Thus, the ethico-political was not asked. Academic thought could proliferate in a nearly infinite number of directions toward the periphery, but the central, most primal question was lost. The ethico-political, which should have given shape and form to academic thought (as well as the academic task itself!), was swept to the wayside. What should have been the queen of the sciences (as most properly theological) became another of the myriad academic disciplines—and a marginalized one, at that. That the ethico-political sphere is the center of theology should be evident from the ministry of Jesus. If the task of theology is to reflect on and witness to God's self-revelation in Jesus Christ, Christian academics (and more broadly, life) should reflect the centering of Jesus' life and teaching in the ethico-political.

This means, first and foremost, the displacing and humbling of the academic task. It is secondary, subordinate to the ethico-political. All academic questions are displaced by the most important questions: “And who is my neighbour?” (Luke 10.29) and “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Mark 10.17). This is one of the many lessons of the story of the rich young ruler (Matthew 19, Mark 10, Luke 18). Perhaps the young ruler, in the style of the Greek philosophers of the day, was traveling (the benefit of his wealth!) to hear the wisdom of the world's good teachers. Wanting a pure theoria, Jesus confronts him with phronesis and says, “If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me” (Matthew 19.21). Jesus interrupts the rich young ruler's journey. He interrupts his life. The young ruler is confronted by the Christ-shaped (and therefore, true) ethico-political and is crushed: “Anyone who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces, but anyone on whom it falls will be crushed” (Matthew 21.44). Mark recounts, “At this the man's face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth” (10.22). The rich young ruler saw the bright face of the core of human being and wisdom, but he chose instead the periphery, wandering at the margins of “the wisdom of the world” (1 Corinthians 1.20).

The Ethico-Political:
I: The Important Question
II: Core and Periphery
III: The Judgment Seat
IV: The West
V: Postlude on Levinas

The Ethico-Political I: The Important Question

2007-12-27T23:55:00.000-05:00

If the truth be told, I was up until recently very uninterested in ethical and political questions—and their close relatives, social and economic questions. Some recent reading on Radical Orthodoxy, however, has shown persuasively the way in which ontology issues into epistemology, and from there, issues into the ethico-political complex of questions. Any Christian whose thinking is properly drenched in the stories of the Gospels cannot help but notice the central place that ethical and political questions occupy in Jesus' life and teaching. How one should act (ethics) and how one ought to live in a society (politics) are importantly shaped by one's idea of what it means to be (ontology) and to know (epistemology). For example, the ontological question “What is a human?” affects one's conception of the epistemological question “How can we know?”, in turn affecting the ethico-political question “And who is my neighbour?” (Luke 10.29). The last of this set is, as I've cleverly pointed out, a decidedly biblical question.

Over the last while, I've been drawn especially to the Gospel of John, which describe, more than the synoptics, the inner life of God—in other words, the ontology of God (if one dares to speak in those terms). While I still find these passages the most interesting ones, I've realized that even the most abstract of Jesus' statements are tied deeply to the ethico-political. Many passages could be selected, but this one is fairly representative:

If you love me, keep my commands [ethico-political]. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever—the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him [epistemological], for he lives with you and will be in you [ontological]. I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. On that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you. Whoever has my commands and keeps them is the one who loves me. Anyone who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and show myself to them. (John 14.15-21)

The claim of Radical Orthodoxy, then, to so link ontology, epistemology and the ethico-political, is a deeply theological—and indeed, biblical—claim. If our understanding of the nature of reality issues into ethics and politics (and vice versa), then the impetus lies with Christian thinkers to articulate a thoroughly Christian view of the world. Theology cannot simply abdicate and let the supposedly neutral social sciences (psychology, sociology, political science, etc.) define the nature of human persons and communities; instead, a theological account of ontology (what Radical Orthodoxy terms “theontology”) must be put forward in order to secure Christian action in the ethico-political sphere. This, however, must not be seen as purely theoretical work restricted to the confines of the ivory tower. The concern for the integrity and restoration of the ethico-political pulsates with biblical themes and questions.

In fact, it is the questions of Jesus' conversation partners which should most inform such a grand project. “What kind of man is this?” the disciples asked of Jesus (Matthew 8.27). “Why does he eat with tax collectors and sinners?” the Pharisees questioned (Mark 2.16). “Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?” (Matthew 12.10). “Why do you speak to the people in parables?” (Matthew 13.10). “But where in this remote place can anyone get enough bread to feed them?” (Mark 8.4). And finally, what are the most important questions to be asked, taking us to the heart of the ethico-political: “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?” (Mark 12.28), and, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Mark 10.17). These are just a sample culled from the first two Gospels, but what begins to appear with great clarity is the force of these ancient questions for Jesus' life, and therefore, for our own. The ethico-political takes us to the core, the center of what it means to live as a human being in this world of God's making.

The Ethico-Political:
I: The Important Question
II: Core and Periphery
III: The Judgment Seat
IV: The West
V: Postlude on Levinas

Emerging Church Comes of Age

2007-12-22T18:58:00.000-05:00

To be honest, I've been slack in following the emerging church over the last six months or so. Listening to Emergent Village's latest podcast, from an excellent panel talk at the 2007 AAR meeting on the emerging church, reveals some recurrent themes but also a refreshing sense of new maturity and depth. Much has changed since the origin of the emerging church network some ten years ago from diverse areas of the post-Christian west. Much has changed even since I started to follow the movement/conversation a couple years back. The emerging church leadership are a few years older, a few years wiser, and have begun to find a mature voice. The initial excitement has become more tempered, the seemingly infinite horizon has become clearer, certain key moves have been made, and what exactly the emerging church is is taking shape.

All of these claims, however, need to be qualified by the fact that the emerging church is still—and likely always will be—emerging, and therefore, does not stand to be pinned down by definition. As a movement/conversation seeking to develop an authentic Christian existence in the midst of the new cultural situation of postmodernity—which I see as the core or center of the emerging church—its postmodern temperament prevents it from defining certain positions which the church of modernity, both evangelical and liberal, desires for it to be clear about. The old in/out boundaries of mainline liberalism and conservative evangelicalism will not reappear in the emerging church. Neither will the closed system (foundationalist) type of theology that each favors. What is appearing, to a certain degree, is a devotion to ancient Christian spirituality and liturgy, inter- and post-denominational ecclesiology and theologizing, and constructive dialogue with postmodern thought and culture. In other words, there is a reaching back and out in order to move forward.

Evangelicals and liberals, both caught naked by the collapse of modernity, have to search for postmodern and other-than-modern ways of being Christian. While large numbers of these groups have decided to simply keep up the old guard, many are moving in new directions, developing as post-evangelicals and post-liberals. This means recognizing both the strengths and weaknesses of traditional evangelicalism and liberalism, as well as searching elsewhere for new resources in being faithful to Christ. The emerging church is, in my estimation, at the forefront of this searching process. They are perhaps a bit ahead of their time in responding to the massive cultural shift that has come to us under the nebulous term “postmodernity.” To see where they have come from and where they are heading, here again is the panel talk.

The Goal of Knowledge

2007-12-12T22:29:00.000-05:00

Some great words of wisdom, and words I need to hear more often than not. From the 12th-century mystic Bernard of Clairvaux:

There are many who seek knowledge for the sake of knowledge: that is curiosity. There are others who desire to know in order that they may themselves be known: that is vanity. Others seek knowledge in order to sell it: that is dishonorable. And again there are still others who seek knowledge in order to be edified: that is prudence. But there are also some who seek knowledge in order to edify others: that is love. (Pieper, Scholasticism, 89; slightly modified.)

Multiform Jesus

2007-12-05T16:34:00.001-05:00

Karl Barth, on seeing Jesus from many different and varied angles:

The recognition of Christian faith can and should be varied. The reason for this is as follows. Although its object, the Jesus Christ attested in Scripture and proclaimed by the community, is single, unitary, consistent and free from contradiction, yet for all His singularity and unity His form is inexhaustibly rich, so that it is not merely legitimate but obligatory that believers should continually see and understand it in new lights and aspects. For He Himself does not present Himself to them in one form but in many—indeed, He is not in Himself uniform but multiform. How can it be otherwise when He is the true Son of the God who is eternally rich? Of course, all knowledge of Jesus Christ will have not merely its basis but its limit and standard in the witness of Scripture and the proclamation of the Church. It is possible only within this definite sphere. It is only in this sphere that Jesus Christ has a form for us men, that He can therefore be an object of our knowledge and known by us. Again, it is a wide sphere with many possibilities .... Outside this sphere, Jesus Christ has no form for us; He is not an object of our knowledge and He cannot be known by us. The believer whom He has definitely encountered in this sphere and not elsewhere will not even try to seek Him outside this sphere. If he did, both Jesus Christ and his faith would dissolve into nothingness. (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV/1, 763)

Karl Barth on the Church

2007-11-21T00:29:00.000-05:00

Karl Barth, in turning to the subject of the Church, makes sure we understand that we must see it as it is, in all the ugliness and deformity which comes with its historical existence. Yet, there is a “hope and a yearning”:

The credo ecclesiam [I believe in the Church : Apostle's Creed] can and necessarily will involve much distinguishing and questioning, much concern and shame. It can and necessarily will be a very critical credo. In relation to the side of the Church which is generally visible it can and necessarily will express what does not amount to much more than a hope and a yearning. But it does take the Church quite seriously in its common visibility—which is its earthly and historical existence. It confesses faith in the invisible aspect which is the secret of the visible. Believing in the ecclesia invisibilis [invisible Church] we will enter the sphere of labour and conflict with the ecclesia visibilis [visible Church]. Without doing this, without a discriminate but serious participation in the historical life of the community, its activity, its upbuilding, its mission, in a kind of purely theoretical and abstract churchliness, no one has ever seriously repeated the credo ecclesiam. (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV/1, 654)

Longing for the Kingdom

2007-11-16T00:02:00.000-05:00

The kingdom of God was the central message of Jesus' teaching. His ministry began with the cry, “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!” (Mark 1.35). This theme resonated deeply with a dispossessed Jewish people under the cruel thumb of the Roman Empire. As NT Wright states:

Jesus was addressing a Jewish world in which 'kingdom of God', 'reign of God', the notion that only God must be king, was one of the most exciting and dangerous slogans. People had died in recent memory because of this slogan and the attempt to put it into practice ... that is, to work for the holy revolution against the western imperial power, whatever it cost. (Paul: In Fresh Perspective, 157-8)

Of course, Jesus had other plans than political uprising. His use of the language of the kingdom of God fulfilled the longings of the Jewish people in a way so subversive and creative that we in our present day are not in a position to fully appreciate. The Zealots, planning armed revolt against the Roman world power to reestablish a Jewish kingdom, would not understand Jesus' sayings that the kingdom would only come as they “turn ... the other cheek,” “hand over [their] coat,” and “go with [the Romans] two miles” (Matthew 6.39-41).

But neither would the Pharisees, who held that the kingdom would come only to the morally pure and legalistically righteous, understand Jesus' confrontational statement: “I tell you the truth, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you” (Matthew 21.32). It must have seemed like nonsense at best—at worst, that he was “demon-possessed” (John 8.48).

His word to the Sadducees, those dirty conspirators and Yes-men of the Empire, was no more encouraging: “David calls [the Messiah] Lord” (Luke 20.44). Now, this takes a bit more explaining, but the Greek word for Lord used in the Old Testament (kurios) was used by pagans to refer to Caesar (NT Wright, Paul, 71). Jesus is here making the claim that Caesar is a false emperor, and that the true empire can only be established by the Messiah—Jesus himself, a peasant-Rabbi, demands the allegiance of all humanity. As Brian McLaren states:

This kingdom throws down a direct challenge to the supremacy of the empire of Caesar centered in Rome, for in the kingdom of God, the ultimate authority is not Caesar but rather the Creator. (The Secret Message of Jesus, 17)

Longing for this kingdom, the sort of political rule in which God reigned fully and directly, was the motivating hope of the early Christian community. Living under the persecution of an all-powerful, pervasive Empire, they lived under the promise that “here we do not have an enduring city [e.g. Rome], but we are looking for the city that is to come [the new Jerusalem]” (Hebrews 13.14). Of course, this expectation diminished when Christians, under the rule of Constantine, came to be the Empire.

Largely forgotten for over 1500 years, the theme of the coming kingdom of God has reemerged as Christians have lost their privileged, imperial status in the West. The rise of secularism and the American Empire, which seeks its own kingdom—a pax Americana, some would say—over against the rule of Christ, have rediscovered reflection on the kingdom of God. Intentional Christian communities, especially those that work in the “abandoned places of Empire,” have renewed their longing for a time and place when Christ will reign.

The kingdom has not yet come, though there are whisperings of the Spirit that intimate its presence even now. Thus, we live patiently, not despairing, but with a great expectation despite the cruel rule of the Empire. For “we must go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God” (Acts 14.22):

Longing becomes obsession when we behave as if our salvation depends on us ushering in the kingdom of God here and now. There is a desperation that undermines the gospel when we behave as if participation in the kingdom of God is our path to heaven rather than a foretaste of heaven .... Communities of the new monasticism must structure their common life in such a way that enables members to experience their longing for the kingdom rightly. (Schools for Conversion: 12 Marks of a New Monasticism, 103, 106)

So we exist in this tension, receiving the gift of God's reign in whatever limited capacity it is given to us, ever being drawn by the Spirit toward the day when the “loud voices in heaven” will proclaim: “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Caesar and of his Messiah, and he will reign for ever and ever” (Revelation 11.15). With this foretaste giving life to our active patience, we work and pray: “Your kingdom come, Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6.10).

New Monastic Vows

2007-11-12T00:34:00.000-05:00

New (or neo-) monasticism is a movement roughly, though not totally, located within the emerging church movement. Those part of it seek to appropriate the insights of traditional monasticism for our contemporary world, especially intentional community, prayer and mission, but most often in an urban setting. That is, groups of Christians intentionally choose to live together in a single house in the midst of a needy part of the city (or in a Third World slum, as in The New Friars) and reach out from there to the broader community. In this context, author Andy Freeman asks what traditional monastic vows might look like:

It is an interesting experiment to consider how some of the monastic vows connect with our lives. Is a new vow of silence, for example, one that disconnects our Internet or mobile phone? Is it one that turns off our TV or removes us from the crowd? Can we embrace a vow of poverty by choosing not to earn a bigger wage or not seek that new promotion? Could we choose to wait sometimes, to be happy with little?

Perhaps most challenging is a vow of celibacy. Being married with five children perhaps undermines my credibility to say anything on this issue, yet surely celibacy is about sexual fidelity as well as abstinence. How do I apply this in both thought and deed? For those of you not yet married, there are times to lay down the desire to be with others, just as there are times to take that up again. I know some who have chosen to go a season without a boyfriend or girlfriend. I know some who feel that singleness is part of their journey and have chosen to embrace it, sometimes with joy, sometimes with tears. (Pete Greig and Andy Freeman, PunkMonk: New Monasticism and the Ancient Art of Breathing, 111-2.)

What might a neo-monastic vow of silence, poverty or celibacy look like in our post-communications revolution [anti-silence], post-industrial revolution [anti-poverty], post-romanticism [anti-celibacy] world? An important question indeed, which might do much to help us recognize how much our culture has seeped into (and perhaps, poisoned) our lives.

Brand New : “Jesus Christ”

2007-10-30T19:46:00.000-04:00

I know I'm a bit late getting on this train, but... could there be a more profound song?

Jesus Christ, that's a pretty face
The kind you'd find on someone that could save
If they don't put me away
Well, it'll be a miracle

Do you believe you're missing out
That everything good is happening somewhere else?
But with nobody in your bed
The night's hard to get through

And I will die all alone
And when I arrive I won't know anyone

Well, Jesus Christ, I'm alone again
So what did you do those three days you were dead?
Cause this problem's gonna last more than the weekend

Well, Jesus Christ, I'm not scared of dying
I'm a little bit scared of what comes after
Do I get the gold chariot?
Do I float through the ceiling?

Do I divide and fall apart?
Cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark
And the ship went down in sight of land
And at the gates does Thomas ask to see my hands

I know you're coming in the night like a thief
But I've had some time, O Lord, to hone my lying technique
I know you think that I'm someone you can trust
But I'm scared I'll get scared and I swear
I'll try to nail you back up
So do you think that we could work out a sign
So I'll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try

I know you're coming for the people like me
But we all got wood and nails
And turned out a hate factory
We all got wood and nails
And turned out a hate factory
We all got wood and nails
And we sleep inside of this machine

In a powerful way, these guys reach the depth of authenticity and brute honesty that many of us Christians are reaching for. Instead of plastering our faces with the appropriate makeup, maybe we should admit more often that “my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark.” ...I guess I'm afraid too that I'll “nail him back up.”

Karl Barth and Rob Bell on Adam

2007-10-30T12:26:00.000-04:00

Unlikely bedfellows, but they interestingly coincide on their view of the first man, Adam:

Is the greatest truth about Adam and Eve and the fruit that it happened, or that it happens? This story, one of the first in the Bible, is true for us because it is our story. We have all taken the fruit. We have all crossed boundaries. We have all made decisions to do things our way and then looked back and said to ourselves, What was I thinking? The fruit looked so great to Adam and Eve for those brief moments, but the consequences were with them for the rest of their lives. Their story is our story. We see ourselves in them. The story is true for us because it happened and because it happens. It is an accurate description of how life is. The reason the stories in the Bible have resonated with so many people over the years is that they have seen themselves in these stories. (Rob Bell, Velvet Elvis, 58-9.)

And in a slightly different context, with fancier theological language, Karl Barth says the same thing:

[World history] is Adamic history, the history of Adam. It began in and with this history, and—this is the Word and judgment of God on it, this is the explanation of its staggering monotony, this is the reason why there can never be any progress—it continually corresponds to this history. It is continually like it. With innumerable variations it constantly repeats it. It constantly re-enacts the little scene in the garden of Eden. (Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics IV/1, 508.)

This sort of position opens up possibilities for reexamining our view of the origin of humanity and our sinfulness. One doesn't necessarily have to hold the complete historical accuracy of the Genesis account in order to take seriously both the goodness of our created self and the fallenness in which we constantly live.

Minimalist Justice and God's Justice

2007-10-17T22:02:00.000-04:00

It has been a while—certainly the longest break on my blog yet—but certain conversations revive the blogging spirit. At rare moments in life, we are blessed to gain friendships that surprise us with common footprints, that betray to us that we were all along sharing paths unknowingly. It's that unanticipated gift to foresee where the conversation is headed; that strange but delightful sense that we are all telling the same story, in an oddly familiar language.

This is my constant experience with two great friends of mine, Erika and Gloria. The latter is a religious studies and political science double-major at McMaster, and really deserves the credit for the following insight: the Western conception of justice is impoverished and insufferably inadequate because of its minimalism.

Justice in Western thought distinguishes between what must be done and what ought to be done, presupposing the latter as an invalid goal of justice. For example, one must not take advantage of the poor, but one only ought to be generous, hospitable and compassionate toward them. In contrast to this, the Christian conception of justice bears the telos of reconciliation, and is therefore, relational justice. In the Western conception, one may fulfill justice without ever benefiting the poor; however, Christians are bound to “sell their possessions and give to the poor” (Luke 12.33). The Christian draws from her own wallet and places the bill in the hand of the needy. Justice has this inner orientation towards its own fulfillment in love: “Love does no harm to its neighbor. Therefore love is the fulfillment of the law” (Romans 13.10).

This distinction, between must and ought, reflects the individualist assumptions of modernity. The actualization of individual potential, and therefore, the removal of any barriers to this goal, is the aim of Western thought. Christianity, however, is deeply and essentially communal. God has made the human person a communal being: a self in need of the other. (This is certainly anathema to Western thought!) Paul writes, “Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. If any of you think you are something when you are nothing, you deceive yourselves” (Galatians 6.2-3). And the “new command” of Christ consists in this: “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another” (John 13.34).

The Western option leads to bare equality, nothing more than a society full of actualized individuals who are nevertheless depressed, isolated and loveless. If the ought is optional, why bother striving toward it? One only expends energy useful for self-seeking activities. For the Christian, however, the ought is expressed in the vision of the new heavens and new earth towards which we are drawn: “There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Revelation 21.4). It is “where justice dwells” (2 Peter 3.13). The Christian ought to expend energy, to pour himself out, in love for the other. The perfect society is one of complete mutual self-giving, the happy exchange in which both individuals empty themselves into the other, and in return, receive back more of themselves than they could have ever hoped for. One could say, it is a “love to the end” (John 13.1).

Such a world will not be born of a minimalist justice, one that seeks only to avoid treading on the feet of others. Christian justice demands that we walk in their paths, join with them, and hand them our lives. This cannot come about by external coercion, by some imposing legal system, but only by an interior orientation toward the perfection of love: “Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit” (Zechariah 4.6). The Spirit's power is to “testify about Christ” (John 14.26): Him who was crucified in God's justice, the “just for the unjust” (1 Peter 3.18). Christ reconciled us to God through His complete and utter self-giving, even “pouring out his life unto death” (Isaiah 53.12). This took place, notably, at the hands of a Western justice system. We, therefore, have no false optimism about the establishment of justice on this earth, but rather a hopeful realism, grounded in the actuality of Christ's work and the Spirit's impulse:

Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen one in whom I delight; I will put my Spirit on him, and he will bring justice to the nations. He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets. A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out. In faithfulness he will bring forth justice; he will not falter or be discouraged till he establishes justice on earth. In his teaching the islands will put their hope. (Isaiah 42.1-4)

John Calvin on Religion and Morality

2007-08-29T12:13:00.000-04:00

I've been wondering about this connection—especially since reading some difficult sections of 1 John¹—and I'm glad Calvin is here to clear it up for me:

Surely the first foundation of righteousness is the worship of God. When this is overthrown, all the remaining parts of righteousness, like the pieces of a shattered and fallen building, are mangled and scattered. What kind of righteousness will you call it not to harass men with theft and plundering, if through impious sacrilege you at the same time deprive God's majesty of its glory? Or that you do not defile your body with fornication, if with your blasphemies you profane God's most holy name? Or that you do not slay a man, if you strive to kill and to quench the remembrance of God? It is vain to cry up righteousness without religion. This is as unreasonable as to display a mutilated, decapitated body as something beautiful. Not only is religion the chief part but the very soul, whereby the whole breathes and thrives. And apart from the fear of God men do not preserve equity and love among themselves. Therefore we call the worship of God the beginning and foundation of righteousness. (Institutes, 2.8.11)

¹“If you know that he is righteous, you know that everyone who does what is right has been born of him” (1 John 2:29). “Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God” (1 John 4:7). “Everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ is born of God” (1 John 5:1).

A New Parable

2007-08-13T22:09:00.000-04:00

“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a coffee connoisseur looking for fine coffees. When he found the Dulce de Leche Latte, he went away and sold everything he had and bought it.”

—Matthew 13:45-46 (slightly modified)

Life-Giving Morality

2007-08-09T19:12:00.000-04:00

It seems like an oxymoron, because morality is immediately perceived simply as a collection of “don't” statements. But morality is really about allowing the life-giving presence of God to emerge in the midst of our life together. What follows is a beautiful quote from the bizarrely titled Womanpriest, by Alla Bozarth:

Morality in the Christian community flows spontaneously out of a shared perception of Christ's love. It is a shared attitude of desire for the common good, an attitude of well-wishing toward life so forceful that it shapes the good it intends. Genuine morality is the actualized overflow of the love of Christ into the world; it is an acted yearning for the wholeness and well-being of others. It is, finally, a mutual empowerment toward wholeness in creation.

The source of this quote is a blog titled “Even the Devils Believe.” The article is found here.

John Calvin on Truth

2007-08-07T20:54:00.000-04:00

I knew Rob Bell believed that “all truth is God's truth.” I didn't, however, expect to find it in Calvin:

If we regard the Spirit of God as the sole fountain of truth, we shall neither reject the truth itself, nor despise it wherever it shall appear, unless we wish to dishonour the Spirit of God. For by holding the gifts of the Spirit in slight esteem, we contemn and reproach the Spirit himself. What then? Shall we deny that the truth shone upon the ancient jurists who established civic order and discipline with such great equity? Shall we say that the philosophers were blind in their fine observation and artful description of nature? Shall we say that those men were devoid of understanding who conceived the art of disputation and taught us to speak reasonably? Shall we say that they are insane who developed medicine, devoting their labour to our benefit? What shall we say of all the mathematical sciences? Shall we consider them the ravings of madmen? No, we cannot read the writings of the ancients on these subjects without great admiration. We marvel at them because we are compelled to recognize how preeminent they are. But shall we count anything praiseworthy or noble without recognizing at the same time that it comes from God? (Institutes, 2.2.15)