Ecclesiophilia

A Reflection for Advent, 2011

2011-12-14T09:15:00.002-06:00

As Christmas draws ever nearer and the shopping fervor kicks into high gear, we tend to hear more religious messages dissuading us from our rampant consumerism and reminding us of the “Reason for the Season.” And this is as it should be, given how we are often easily taken in by the mad dash to make sure everyone on our gift list is accounted for, not to mention making sure we’ve put the finishing touches on our own gift list! Surely the gift God gave to humankind in the birth of Jesus is incomparable, and it is all too easily lost in our overly commercialized holiday celebrations.

But lately, especially in this season of Advent, I’ve been reflecting on the whole idea of longing. Often accompanying the admonitions of fellow Christians is the offering of assurance that all of our deepest longings are filled not in those things which fill our stockings, but in Him who fills our hearts. Well, I would say, yes and no.

I can, without reservation, say along with Saint Augustine that “Our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.” I hold that human beings have an innate longing for God which we try to fill with a variety of things which seem to promise happiness—power, fame, sensual pleasure, and yes, material possessions. Each and all of these end up being vain pursuits, never delivering true peace for the soul. In this regard, I agree with those brothers and sisters of mine I’ve mentioned above: a reconciled relationship with God, made possible through the One born in Bethlehem is what we truly seek, and entering into such a relationship squelches the potency of these earthly longings.

I would hasten to add, however, that that is not the end of the story. Beginning and deepening a relationship with God decidedly does not mark the end of all our longings. Instead, as we walk with God and as our wills are conformed ever more greatly to His, we find that our longings change. While our longings for those false lures to happiness decrease, other longings appear and increase: the very longings of God. These include longings for peace, for reconciled human relationships, for an end to wars, violence, and injustice, for suffering to cease, for no more sickness, dying, and death, and for a deep, profound love to be shared between all who are made in their Creator’s image.

Contrary to what I used to think, these longings cannot be passed over with a blind optimism which merely imagines either the day we individually pass on into the life everlasting and everything is as it should be, or when Jesus triumphantly returns and sets things right. Instead, these are precisely the longings that come to inhabit our thoughts, our prayers, our very lives. We pray “thy kingdom come, thy will be done,” and we mean right here and right now. What’s more, we also mean in us and through us. We are both the object and the instrument of that prayer’s answer.

Longing for the things God longs for in no way diminishes our hope in the resurrection or desire for the return of Christ. Rather, it prepares us for it by stirring us to greater partnership with, and deeper dependence upon, God. May this Advent see our hearts ache for God’s kingdom to come, his will to be done.

“Graciously grant us peace in our days.”

History and the Christian

2011-07-06T11:36:00.002-05:00

One of my growing convictions is that we, as human beings, are undeniably historically contingent: what has come before us—culture, language, philosophy, etc.—has contributed to us—to the very makeup of who we are.

My time in Evangelicalism had a strange interaction with this assertion. On the one hand, it stressed the absolute necessity for faith of the historical Jesus: his life, death, and resurrection. And rightly so, as orthodox Christianity is unabashedly forthright about the necessity of the historicity of its claims, as in the ancient creeds. But what Evangelicalism failed to convey, and only rarely acknowledged, was the ongoing influence of history on and within the life of the Church, and how that influence affected the faith. In lauding the Bible alone (rather than the alongside the Tradition of the Church) as the only reliable authority on divine revelation, Evangelicalism tenaciously clings to a strange and extreme interpretation of that medieval humanist cry, “Ad fontes!” (“To the sources!”) Rather than looking to Scripture and the early Fathers to correct and guide the admittedly sometimes far-reaching speculation of Scholastic theology, contemporary Evangelicalism, like its neighbor, Fundamentalism, can often rest content with only chapter-and-verse for a bed. Of course, while exegesis is often seen as necessary, there is little admission of the continuing historical role of hermeneutics, except insofar as the individual student of the Bible arrives at the “correct” interpretation of the Scriptures through prayer and diligence. As the bumper sticker read, “God said it, I believe it, that settles it.”

The beauty I’ve found in embracing a sacramental practice of the Christian faith is that history becomes the ally to faith it is intended to be, without diminishing the centrality of the Scriptures. The Eucharist which shapes our very being, for example, is resolutely tied to history: it is at once linked with Calvary and the Parousia, but inasmuch as it is entrusted to the historical Church, it also ministers throughout the ages, and that ministry shapes what it is today. Moreover, the whole Church is present at each Eucharist: the Church Triumphant (those in heaven, as signified by the censing of the altar), the Church Suffering (the souls being made ready for heaven in Purgatory), and the Church Militant (the Church of our day, fighting the good fight). The historicity of St. Paul, St. Perpetua, St. Augustine, St. Anselm, St. Francis, St. Thérèse, Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha, and Blessed Teresa of Calcutta has played—and still plays—a part in how they now celebrate the Mass, present with us. Far from being historically selective, and not at all denying history, the Eucharist converges and manifests the historicity of Christianity in our very midst. And we, as historical beings, partake!

Judgment Day: Maybe Today, Maybe Tomorrow

2011-05-22T09:29:00.005-05:00

May 21^st, 2011—the date that “graced” billboards across the nation as the date of the Biblical Day of Judgment—has come and gone. The world did not end. Judgment Day has not commenced. All of the hullabaloo that was made over the date on Facebook, on morning radio shows, in casual conversation, and even, notably, by major international news organizations (e.g. the BBC) will likely quickly die out and the public’s attention will move on.

I have wrestled with how best to respond to the phenomenon of the prominence of this prediction. As a theologian and scholar, I disagreed with Harold Camping’s numerological methodology of interpretation of the Scriptures. I did not expect Judgment Day to come on the 21^st—well, no more so than on another day. And therein lies the rub. As a Christian I was dismayed at the easy target Camping’s prediction made for would be mockers and scoffers of Christianity in general, yet I hold an adherence to the general principles which lie behind it.

It is incontrovertible that, according to the Bible, there will indeed come a time of judgment, often represented by what the Old and New Testaments call “the Day of the Lord/Lord Jesus” (e.g. OT: Isa. 13:6, 9; 58:13; Jer. 46:10; Ezek. 13:5; 30:3; Joel 1:15; 2:1, 11, 31; 3:14; Amos 5:18, 20; Obad. 1:15; Zeph. 1:7, 14; Zech. 14:1; Mal. 4:5; NT: Acts 2:20; 1 Co. 5:5; 2 Co. 1:14; 1 Thess. 5:2; 2 Thess. 2:2; 2 Pet. 3:10). What’s more, both the Apostles’ and the Nicene Creed speak of Jesus returning to judge.

Equally, people are urged to be prepared for the coming of this Day (e.g. Matt. 25). To bolster this urgency of preparedness, the Scriptures highlight the imminence and unknowability of Jesus’ return. Essentially, Mr. Camping’s campaign sought to dispel apathy and increase faithful response by naming a date for Judgment Day. The Scriptures, by not naming a day, are not seeking to waylay urgency but rather to intensify it: “You don’t know the day or the hour, so be ready now,” is their message.

So, while I found no validity in Camping’s specific prediction, I sought not to belittle the concepts behind his teaching. I sought not to defend, but neither to mock. Moreover, I will endeavor to live in great anticipation of the Lord’s imminent return today (May 22^nd, 2011) and every day. Maranatha!

A Meditation for Holy Week: Love and Death

2011-04-19T20:22:00.004-05:00

But God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us. - Romans 5:8

Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. - John 15:13

Christ on the Cross is the perfect sacrifice because he there embodies perfect love. The immense power of all the wickedness, scorn, and sin of the ages, when heaped upon his broken body, is met with a power infinitely greater: Love. Perfect love. And love covers all offenses. Christ’s death was not merely necessary to satisfy justice, but since only through death—a good, sacrificial death—is wickedness definitively undone, his perfect death provided true atonement for the wickedness of the ages: the sin of the world vanishes before the death of Christ as a wisp of smoke before a gale-force wind. In the beauty of God, Death, the last enemy, the wages of sin, is precisely the vehicle through which Death is overcome. Love is the giving of oneself for the sake of the other. Perfect love is giving all; perfect love is self death.

When we are baptized, we are incorporated into Christ’s death. It is no coincidence that water, the matter of baptism, is simultaneously a symbol of chaos and evil in ancient Hebrew thought and a sign of cleansing in the Law and the Prophets. Christ’s side would not have been pierced but for the evil of humanity, and yet evil is drowned in the flood which flows from him. It is no mistake that water both flooded the earth in God’s judgment and flowed from Christ’s side in God’s mercy. God’s great mercy could not have been fulfilled without God’s judgment upon the sin of the world, yet mercy triumphs over judgment. Perfect love undoes Death through Death.

What’s more, when we are joined to Christ’s death through baptism, we ourselves assume the character of perfect love, for he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. God’s righteousness is the victory of perfect love, which we cannot claim for ourselves unless it should become the character of our life. As Bonhoeffer said, "When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” True love is death to self. Our Christian lives therefore evince the perfect love of God through the sacrificial nature of our deeds, empowered by our incorporation into Christ’s death through baptism, by the working of the Holy Spirit.

It should come as no surprise, either, that baptism is essentially a communal sacrifice: the one baptized is incorporated into Christ’s death and into his Mystical Body, the Church. Perfect love cannot exist with a subject alone. When we are incorporated into Christ’s death, and we assume the character of that death, it can mean nothing else that we assume his perfect love for the Father and for all of humanity. As his body breaks and blood flows to reconcile the world to himself, who lives in perfect love with the Father, we who are incorporated into his body through baptism are entrusted with the message of reconciliation.

And how do we manifest that message? No other way than always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. The Eucharist is the source and summit of the Christian life precisely in this way—it molds the Church, the Body of Christ, into a cruciform shape. As we are nourished by Christ’s body broken for us and his blood shed for us, our mortal bodies take on the essence of perfect love, of the death of the self for the sake of the other. Only this perfect love—but certainly this perfect love—is able to be the eternal unmaking of sin and death, and moreover, to restore to us our true and eternal self.

Prayer knocks, fasting obtains, mercy receives

2011-03-29T07:42:00.002-05:00

This is from today's Office of Readings. A great Lenten meditation!

From a sermon by Saint Peter Chrysologus, bishop

There are three things, my brethren, by which faith stands firm, devotion remains constant, and virtue endures. They are prayer, fasting and mercy. Prayer knocks at the door, fasting obtains, mercy receives. Prayer, mercy and fasting: these three are one, and they give life to each other.

Fasting is the soul of prayer, mercy is the lifeblood of fasting. Let no one try to separate them; they cannot be separated. If you have only one of them or not all together, you have nothing. So if you pray, fast; if you fast, show mercy; if you want your petition to be heard, hear the petition of others. If you do not close your ear to others you open God’s ear to yourself.

When you fast, see the fasting of others. If you want God to know that you are hungry, know that another is hungry. If you hope for mercy, show mercy. If you look for kindness, show kindness. If you want to receive, give. If you ask for yourself what you deny to others, your asking is a mockery.

Let this be the pattern for all men when they practise mercy: show mercy to others in the same way, with the same generosity, with the same promptness, as you want others to show mercy to you.

Therefore, let prayer, mercy and fasting be one single plea to God on our behalf, one speech in our defence, a threefold united prayer in our favour.

Let us use fasting to make up for what we have lost by despising others. Let us offer our souls in sacrifice by means of fasting. There is nothing more pleasing that we can offer to God, as the psalmist said in prophecy: A sacrifice to God is a broken spirit; God does not despise a bruised and humbled heart.

Offer your soul to God, make him an oblation of your fasting, so that your soul may be a pure offering, a holy sacrifice, a living victim, remaining your own and at the same time made over to God. Whoever fails to give this to God will not be excused, for if you are to give him yourself you are never without the means of giving.

To make these acceptable, mercy must be added. Fasting bears no fruit unless it is watered by mercy. Fasting dries up when mercy dries up. Mercy is to fasting as rain is to earth. However much you may cultivate your heart, clear the soil of your nature, root out vices, sow virtues, if you do not release the springs of mercy, your fasting will bear no fruit.

When you fast, if your mercy is thin your harvest will be thin; when you fast, what you pour out in mercy overflows into your barn. Therefore, do not lose by saving, but gather in by scattering. Give to the poor, and you give to yourself. You will not be allowed to keep what you have refused to give to others.

On Grandeur and Intimacy

2011-03-12T22:11:00.002-06:00

My wife and I are parishioners at the Cathedral of Saint Paul in St. Paul, Minnesota. The building itself is a magnificent structure, filled with intricate and meaningful detail. The very grandeur that is so captivating, causing first time visitors to gasp when first stepping foot in the doors, suggests the surpassing majesty of the God who is worshipped therein. Statuary, stained glass, bronze grills, a towering baldakin set atop impossible marble monoliths, a grand dome, and so much more leave the visitor in little doubt about the lofty, sublime transcendence of God.

This is something my wife and I have come to appreciate highly. God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—is majestic (and so much more so than the lone word implies). God is sublimely transcendent. Even 21^st-century Americans, many of whom have never experienced an earthly royal court, are familiar enough with the marks of honor (say, at a wedding, where the bride is so honored; or at a funeral, where the deceased is) to understand that a certain regal formality is only fitting for a king or queen. Without it, the regent (or bride, or deceased) is robbed of honor that is due. How much more so for the King of kings!

“Ah,” might say some of my Protestant friends, “but it all makes God seem so high, so aloof, so distant, and not our closest friend.” True, there exists the possibility that one might think of the God of the Cathedral of Saint Paul as one who is unreachable in prayer, unattainable in relationship, ungraspable in comprehension…

…until Mass.

The fact is, God is exactly that to those who are strangers, aliens, enemies (as says Sacred Scripture), distanced by the willful fleeing of his creatures into their own, autopetal volition. But while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. And every day of the year (save one) the Catholic faithful around the world come to meet this high, majestic, transcendent God in the Way made present: the sacrifice of the Mass. And this sublime God who seems (and is) so far beyond our mental, physical, emotional, imaginational, spiritual grasp, comes to meet them through Jesus Christ’s real, sacramental presence, shared out in the most intimate way: through a union actualized by the eating of flesh and drinking of blood (which actually does happen every day), as prescribed by the Lord himself.

There is something so very right about this juxtaposition of sublime transcendence and deep intimacy. The closest friend—for indeed, He is—we receive in the Eucharist is unlike any other friend we’ve had, yet our closest friend He remains. The majestic grandeur of the Cathedral is centered around a genuflected tabernacle where He dwells and a bowed altar where He lays. Organs play, choirs sing, clergy process, incense rises, bells ring, people stand and bow and kneel, and in the center of all the ritualistic formalities and humble solemnity of the liturgy—crying out in prayer to this unfathomably great God—He comes. Not in thunder and lightning. Not in fire or wind. In bread and wine. In body and blood. In person.

…to love.

Tradition and Evangelism

2010-05-25T12:50:00.004-05:00

"The positive relationship that has been established between the Russian Orthodox Church and the Church of Rome is one of the most stunning achievements of Benedict XVI's pontificate.

...To a question from www.chiesa on the factors that led to this extraordinary change, Metropolitan Hilarion responded by indicating three of these.

...the third reason is their mutual embrace of the grand Christian tradition, as the great highway of the new evangelization."

- "A Holy Alliance between Rome and Moscow Is Born," by Sandro Magister, published on www.chiesa at http://chiesa.espresso.repubblica.it/articolo/1343399?eng=y, accessed 25 May 2010.

A good discussion of the method and means of evangelism and outreach has been going on over on my friend Rick's blog. Rick, hailing from an Evangelical perspective, and I, hailing from a Catholic perspective, can tend to disagree over the role of Tradition in outreach and evangelism.

My argument runs along the same lines as that which is discussed in the article cited above: reasoned caution toward innovation for fear of borrowing and baptizing so many things in the name of relevancy that the baby becomes indistinguishable from the bathwater (a good question: would my Evangelical friends say it's all bathwater or all baby?), and a heavy reliance upon Tradition as a norm of faith, not merely contributing to, but foundational for the Church's missional existence.

As we become ever more aware of our inextricable human rooted-ness in history and tradition, it seems to me all the more important to embrace, explore, and yes, when necessary, reform, that tradition. Contrary to some popular thought, anchoring oneself in a tradition is more conducive to inter-traditional dialogue than claiming an autonomous distance from any tradition.

Hence, the Christian Tradition must needs be maintained--through study, through interaction, and through liturgical/sacramental practice--in order to continue to provide a "solid rock" on which to build our evangelistic efforts.

Thoughts?

One journey ends, another begins...

2010-04-06T13:17:00.004-05:00

My wife and I have been "officially" in the process of becoming Roman Catholic since September of last year. We've been part of the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults (RCIA) at the Cathedral of St. Paul in St. Paul, MN. This last weekend was the big night, the Easter Vigil, when we were Confirmed and received our first Eucharist. A few friends have asked, so I thought I'd give a little synopsis of recent events:

Holy Week was an amazing week for us. We went to daily mass M, T, and W. On Holy Thursday, we went to the evening mass that begins the Triduum (three days of Christ's passion, death, and resurrection), which ended with a short (1 hr) vigil with Christ in "the garden" and a service of night prayer (Compline).

Friday morning, we watched "The Passion of the Christ" together (my wife had not seen it before), which set the tone well. We went to Stations of the Cross as the appropriately cloudy skies started to give way to rain. We reached the 12th station, the deacon read out "Jesus cried out in a loud voice, 'Father, into your hands I commend my spirit,' and he breathed his last," and there was this tremendous peal of thunder. It was chilling. That afternoon, we returned with my parents for the solemn liturgy of Good Friday, complete with veneration of the cross. Tears were shed.

Saturday began with a service of morning prayer and a rehearsal for the evening. We returned home to find my wife's family from out-of-town had arrived, so we went out to lunch and spent the rest of the day in preparation for the evening and night.

The Easter Vigil on Saturday night...well, I could go on and on. Let's just say it was absolutely glorious. Personally, when we were called to come forward, my heart began pounding as I moved closer and closer to the Archbishop for Confirmation, but when my time came, a sort of excited calm descended. The Archbishop anointed me, and I was saturated with joy that still, quite frankly, hasn't worn off. Our first Eucharist was stimulating, bringing forth a feeling of unprecedented connection both to Jesus and to his Church. (As a sidelight, I forgot to say "Amen" to the words "Body of Christ" until I had the host in my mouth...d'oh! Actually, subsequent masses have provided further venues to reflect on the profound gift the Eucharist is.) After the Vigil, we went home with family, sponsors, our RCIA director and his wife, and another Catholic convert who's a neighbor, to enjoy some drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

One further thing: at the Easter Sunday service, my wife & I were asked to bring the bread & wine forward. It is amazing to do so in the mammoth Cathedral. The Archbishop was again presiding, and he greeted us with a smile and "Good to see you again," and, turning to my wife, "Short night, huh?"

After Easter mass, we went home with family to a huge Easter feast. However, with the bit of dessert wine we had with our fabulous homemade carrot cake (thank you, honey!), the lack of sleep (we got about 4 hours on Saturday night) started kicking in as the adrenaline high was wearing off. We might have even been in bed before 8 PM.

New reflections on the profundity of our reception into the Catholic Church come often, including being part of a Church with a 2,000 year history; of being united with the Pope, our Archbishop, as well as billions of Catholics around the world; of receiving body, blood, soul, and divinity of Jesus in the Eucharist; and also, admittedly, of looking at recent unhappy news items and thinking, "this is our Church."

Gratitude and joy, peace and excitement. That's what I feel. I imagine that this is but a honeymoon stage, but honeymoons are meant to celebrate what has happened and what is to come. I welcome it!

A Gospel Summary from St. Augustine

2010-03-10T10:33:00.005-06:00

I just ran across this eloquent summary of the good news of Jesus in my reading for a class. Apologies for the inclusive use of "man," but I feel some of the eloquence is lost if altered.

"To cure [foolish and blinded humanity] and make them well the Word through which all things were made became flesh and dwelt among us (Jn 1:14). Our enlightenment is to participate in the Word, that is, in that life which is the light of man (Jn 1:4). Yet we were absolutely incapable of such participation and quite unfit for it, so unclean were we through sin, so we had to be cleansed. Furthermore, the only thing to cleanse the wicked and the proud is the blood of the just man and the humility of God; to contemplate God, which by nature we are not, we would have to be cleansed by him who became what by nature we are and what by sin we are not. By nature we are not God; by nature we are man; by sin we are not just. So God became a just man to intercede with God for sinful man. The sinner did not match the just, but man did match man. So he applied to us the similarity of his humanity to take away the dissimilarity of our iniquity, and become a partaker of our mortality he made us partakers of his divinity. It was surely right that the death of the sinner issuing from the stern necessity of condemnation should be undone by the death of the just man issuing from the voluntary freedom of mercy, his single matching our double."

St. Augustine of Hippo, The Trinity (De Trinitate), ed. John E. Rotelle, O.S.A., trans. Edmund Hill, O.P., The Works of St. Augustine: A Translation for the 21st Century (Hyde Park, NY: New City Press, 1991), IV, 1, 4.

Two New (old) Sins

2009-12-09T16:16:00.006-06:00

I blew it.

So, last night, it was snowing heavily in the Twin Cities, traffic going home was nearly at a standstill, my wife and I were both tired at the end of a long work day, then we were compelled to go out into the weather again to Mass, as it was the feast of the Immaculate Conception (a day of obligation for Roman Catholics). We got home around 7:30, now hungry, as well as tired. In an attempt to lighten things up, I volunteered to venture out once more and get some "to-go" food as a treat. After some debate, I ended up going to a local fast food taco joint. Once there, I just kept adding and adding stuff to our order and when I got home, not only did we (mostly I) polish it all off, I added a significant amount of ice cream on top of it. I blew it.

Some of you may know that the human inhabitants of our household have been doing Weight Watchers for a few months. (The canine inhabitant is lean & muscular, and doesn't seem to worry too much about her figure, anyway.) So, yes, I blew my "point" limit for the day. But that's not so much what concerns me. Some years ago now, I began to understand that I don't just enjoy food (a healthy thing), I love it. I idolize it. Often, I don't control it, it controls me. That's what happened last night...and that's what I blew: I fell back into an old pattern of behavior that is blatantly sinful. Yes, sinful. Traditionally (in the Bible and in Christian history), it is called "gluttony," and it has the same base characteristics as other, more readily recognizable, sins: overindulgence, idolatry, self-serving autonomy, self-slavery (creating the proclivity for further sin), etc.

Gluttony isn't spoken of much these days in terms of sins we must confess, repent of, and be forgiven for. Given the characteristic overindulgence on food, especially non-nutritious food, in the US, overeating and resultant obesity is seen as the statistical norm, which, in Aristotelian thought, becomes the moral normative. While the Church has the obligation to continue to preach such sins as sins, and to graciously and generously offer forgiveness for them, it rarely does so. Perhaps its (worldly) reasoning for not doing so is something akin to: if you drive away the gluttons by preaching against gluttony, the Church would be empty. Perhaps food, like money, is one of those "taboo" topics for homilies.

Anyway, skip ahead to today. Upon entering the room where I eat my (this time, modest) lunch at the seminary, I happened upon a fellow student named Margaret, and we fell into discussing the topic of rest. It's "crunch time" of the term (papers due, etc.), so opportunities to rest can be at a premium. When Margaret hinted that she wasn't getting much rest, I (in good humor, but probably too sharply) referred to the concept of Sabbath: that we are designed to need rest, and when we don't rest, we pridefully deny our God-given human limitations. Since Margaret has a wonderful sense of humor, she graciously chuckled and asked if one can confess the sin of not resting.

As with gluttony, the understanding of working excessively--a telltale sign of godless self-sufficiency--as sin has morphed quite a bit over the millennia, as well. In Ten Commandments days, exile and even death was prescribed for those who neglected the Sabbath (Ex. 31:14-17). Nowadays, we actually boast about being "too busy," and we idolize productivity. Can one still confess such a sin as neglecting rest? "Not only can, but should," was my response to Margaret. Nevertheless, I wonder how many confessors hear the penitent confessing their overindulgence in work, their failure to rest. Not many, I'll bet. I'm not even sure many confessors would know how to handle such a confession.

Still, I can envision a Church that adheres to preaching the dangers, the sin, of gluttony and the neglect of rest--not primarily as judgment, but as part of the "old self" that needs to be shed, that the new self, the one being remade in the likeness of Jesus Christ, can grow and become fruitful. Such a move might be radical in these times, but that's the kind of radicalness the Church needs to exhibit: Rest more! Eat less! That's the kind of Church that glorifies God and finds her ultimate fulfillment not in work, not in food, but in Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

The Liturgy of Black Friday

2009-11-25T15:11:00.004-06:00

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. It is traditionally a time of being together, feasting, watching football and parades on television, napping, and, in Wisconsin, where my wife and I celebrate the holiday, deer hunting. Traditionally, too, it is a time to reflect on the blessings of life and to give thanks. It is this last element—giving thanks—that is perhaps the most humanizing part of this late-November holiday.

Gratitude, by which I mean a conscious, active rendering of thanks, moves us outside ourselves as it acknowledges our absolute dependence on others. It humbly celebrates being a recipient as it deconstructs our notions of autonomy and self-sufficiency. And, when our thanks are rightly directed to the author of life and giver of all good gifts, gratitude actualizes us as human beings—as finite, limited creatures who are relentlessly drawn by our loving God into a life greater than our own. Truly, the traditional liturgy of gathering around a table piled high with food and pausing to recount those things for which we are thankful, and to offer our thanks up to God, humanizes us.

The day after tomorrow has been dubbed “Black Friday.” Black Friday, as one local newspaper claimed, is itself “tradition,” and “the American way.” It is a day when many Americans, still sluggish from the previous day’s feasting, rise before the sun to patronize malls, discount stores, specialty shops, and the like in the spirit of holiday shopping. Stores have taken to opening in the wee hours of the morning and rewarding “early birds” with extra savings. Shoppers have responded by lining up outside said stores, feverishly awaiting admittance, and clamoring over one another in a frenzied pursuit of particular items—items which do not deserve the moniker “goods.” This frenzy, as we have tragically seen, has even resulted in human death.

The liturgy of Black Friday is, rightly considered, a dehumanizing liturgy. Albeit, many shoppers who flood the stores that day lay claim to a selfless motivation: they are out buying Christmas gifts for family and loved ones. However, the stated goal of buying gifts loses all its credibility if one’s attitude and actions on Black Friday are decidedly ungiving. The goal of Black Friday shopping, at its core, is still one of acquisition (in contrast to reception). This acquisition is accomplished by utilizing one’s own resources (money, time, strategy) and unabashedly competing with others, even to the point of violence—even fatal violence!—in order to obtain that which one desires. The liturgy of Black Friday moves us ever deeper into our own selves, stirring up our self-centered desires and appetites not merely without the consideration of others, but often in active opposition to others. An unfortunate few Black Friday shoppers tragically find themselves no better off than a 12-point buck caught in an open Wisconsin field. The vast majority, even if immediate ramifications are not as poignant, still suffer definitive, destructive effects.

Of course, it is deeply ironic that we can spend one day supposedly immersed in the practice of gratitude, acknowledging our own dependence and limitations, and spend the very next day immersed in the practice of consumption, relying on our independence and our ability to surpass our limitations. The humanizing rituals of Thanksgiving are sadly often lost in the dehumanizing practices of Black Friday. What is needed is for us to take a page from the liturgy of Thanksgiving: to pause before consumption, offer thanks, and let the spirit of gratitude inform, guide, and even restrict our consuming—all with a humble appreciation for, and deference to, others a la Philippians 2:3-4.

Vatican Note on New Apostolic Constitution - Catholic Online

2009-10-20T11:09:00.000-05:00

Vatican Note on New Apostolic Constitution - Catholic Online

Huge ramifications from this, I'm sure!

Indoctrination

2009-09-08T09:36:00.002-05:00

The recent squabble about President Obama's speech for schoolchildren scheduled for today has been fraught with controversy. Right-wingers are up-in-arms, claiming that it's dangerous for Obama to be given such a platform to speak "his message" into the lives of the young and impressionable, claiming that they don't want their children "brainwashed" or "indoctrinated." Left-wingers have replied with astonishment, claiming that all the President wants to do is encourage our children to work hard in school, not "indoctrinate" them in some liberal viewpoint.

While this wildfire is obviously fueled by the out-of-control partisanship in our nation's politics, it has given me pause to reflect on the concept of "indoctrination."As long as I can remember, "indoctrination" has had negative connotations, usually alluding to something akin to brainwashing, which conjures up images of fascism and/or religious cults, but more readily applicable to mainstream ideologies, e. g. liberalism, conservatism, Evangelicalism, or Catholicism. And, of course, kids are always the ones held up as the potential victims of indoctrination. Parents don't want their kids indoctrinated.

What's at risk, apparently, is these kids' freedom to think and choose for themselves whether they might be more democratic or more republican, more Christian or more atheistic, etc. To my mind, however, this "freedom" is largely a ruse. Humans learn through interaction with other humans: both directly, as through conversation; and indirectly, as through reading and the media; either actively, as through explicit, evaluative assertions; or passively, as through omitted sentences, word craft, and propaganda. And at the level of the child, it seems to me that all of this interaction could be viewed as indoctrination, taken to mean the teaching of a particular ideology. Even the statement "I don't want my child indoctrinated" stems from a particular ideology whose doctrine is passed on through human interaction. Simply put, there is no human interaction ungoverned by ideology.

What is more valid for a parent, however, is the desire to monitor and filter those voices which reach one’s child. I would imagine most parents would want their children to hold a similar ideology to their own and are subsequently suspicious of the barrage of voices modern children encounter which may prove sufficient to topple a parent’s influence. There is some good in this, most especially because many such voices today are unfiltered (for example, this blog).

So, what about the Church? Does the Church hold to an ideology? Of course. Does it seek to hand that ideology on to young people? Absolutely. Is this a bad thing? One’s answer to that question depends on what ideology/ies one has been indoctrinated in. But to pit a freedom of thought ideology against it is doomed to fail, for it becomes, in the end, self-defeating.

Barth on Calling

2009-04-29T14:32:00.003-05:00

"...our calling to be Christians, as plainly shown in the New Testament in the figure of Peter, must take place again and again. No man who is called does not also have to see and understand himself as one who has still to be called and therefore as one who stands alongside and in solidarity with the uncalled. ...For all the seriousness with which we must distinguish between Christians and non-Christians, we can never think in terms of a rigid separation. All that is possible is a genuinely unlimited openness of the called in relation to the uncalled, an unlimited readiness to see in the aliens of to-day the brothers of to-morrow, and to love them as such and not simply as men, neither the Old Testament nor the New knowing anything of a general love for humanity."

- Karl Barth

(Church Dogmatics. Translated by Rev. G. W. Bromiley. Edited by Rev. Prof. G. W. Bromiley and Rev. Prof. T. F. Torrance. Vol. IV, pt. 3. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1962, p. 494. Apologies for the non-inclusive language.)

Income Distribution Within U.S. Religious Groups (Pew Forum)

2009-01-31T10:59:00.004-06:00

Very interesting graphic up at The Pew Forum:
Link is here: http://pewforum.org/docs/?DocID=376

Pannenberg on sex, marriage, family, and religion

2009-01-20T19:07:00.002-06:00

"...In every case, however, the necessary presupposition is that the community is experienced by its members as meaningful and its claims on the individual as justified. Only if this supposition is verified can the family become, not only for the children but also for the married couple and the parents themselves, the place where human beings undergo a 'second birth' as 'sociocultural personalities.' When this presupposed priority of the community over the individual is no longer acknowledged, the individuals involved will experience the claims of marital and familial obligations as a suppression of their freedom, and not least of their sexual freedom, and they will seek emancipation from these fetters. But the priority of the community over the individual is not self-evidently valid. It requires a justification and legitimation which in the final analysis can only be found in religion. Crises affecting the structure of authority in marriage and family will therefore always be religious crises as well..."

- Pannenberg, Wolfhart. Anthropology in Theological Perspective. Translated by Matthew J. O'Connell. London: T & T Clark, 2004, 437.

More good Pannenberg...

2009-01-17T22:37:00.002-06:00

Ok, so I'm finding good stuff here, can you tell? Here's something that might not preach to modern Western society very well, but oooo! is it good:

"The connection between act and consequence and therefore the liability of culprits for their actions precede the development of the idea of guilt and create the objective need for such a development. It is only this objective state of affairs that forbids our making no distinction between guilt consciousness generally and the various kinds of neurotic guilt feelings, and deciding that since the latter exist, all guilt consciousness is the manifestation of a disease from which human beings ought to be liberated through a more humane type of education and through instruction of the masses. For if in fact there is a necessary connection between actions and their consequences, so that in the interaction that makes up society the consequences either strike back at the agent or do harm to social life itself, then it shows a lack of realism to shut our eyes to it and to declare that we can do without the idea of guilt, at least in the sense of holding agents responsible for the consequences of their actions."

- Pannenberg, Wolfhart. Anthropology in Theological Perspective. Translated by Matthew J. O'Connell. London: T & T Clark, 2004, 291.

Pannenberg rocks!

2009-01-15T14:59:00.001-06:00

“The way of human beings to the (divine) reality in which they can ultimately ground their exocentric existence and thereby attain to their own identity is thus always mediated through the experience of the external world. This is especially true of the relationship with the other human beings, that is, with beings whose lives are characterized by the same question and experience. But having said this, we are back in principle with Herder’s conception according to which human beings need to be educated to be themselves—educated to reason, humanity, and religion—and that such education comes to them through their experience of their world but especially through dealings with other human beings, because the theme of those other lives is or has already been the same as that of their own.”

- Pannenberg, Wolfhart. Anthropology in Theological Perspective. Translated by Matthew J. O'Connell. London: T & T Clark, 2004, 70. (italics in original).

Thought for the day (or longer)...

2009-01-08T10:57:00.002-06:00

"Church grows from within toward the outside, not vice versa."

-Ratzinger, Joseph Cardinal. Church, Ecumenism, and Politics: New Endeavors in Ecclesiology. Translated by Michael J. Miller et al. San Franscisco: Ignatius Press, 2008, p. 15.

Following Christ conference

2008-11-13T23:02:00.005-06:00

We'll be there!

Whatever happened to the courtesy wave?

2008-11-13T09:34:00.006-06:00

Zipping westbound on I-94 today, I slowed slightly to let a signalling Camry in to my lane of traffic. No great sacrifice, I'll grant you. Still, I watched the driver as he/she entered and settled into "my" lane, thinking there might be some acknowledgement for my politeness. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

Of course, I'm one of those people who, having had this experience, then begins to ruminate upon it. First, I thought about how often I give courtesy waves. I'll bet, on an average week, I give anywhere from three to 10 courtesy waves. For me, it's nearly a given whenever I'm merging onto a busy interstate, which accounts for at least half of the occurrences. Then there's the awkward "who-was-here-first?"-s at stop-sign controlled intersections, the driver who stops the line-up of traffic to allow me to turn in front of them, and just generally anytime a driver shows even a small degree of courtesy (hence the name).

But I've noticed lately that, for all the courtesy waves I give, I receive very, very few. In fact, I can't remember the last time I got one...and I'd classify myself as a fairly courteous driver. That said, I think I'm going to go on a hunt--a hunt for the courtesy wave. I wonder how many I can "obtain" by, say, Thanksgiving? Watch this space. I'll keep count.

Now, if I was the cynical type, I might suggest that this dearth in courtesy waves is just one small, symptomatic factor of the ever-growing disease of individualism, self-centeredness, and entitlement pervasive in our American society today. But rather than ranting about that, let me draw a life-analogy...

In a way, traffic patterns around metropolitan areas are fair examples of how cooperation and interdependence work. Out on the highways, we all have similar basic goals (to get where we're going) and similar basic values (to travel expediently, if not speedily; not to have an accident). By virtue of the planning of the Department of Transportation, we are forced to share the same roadways, hence interdependence is not simply an option, it is, for all intents and purposes, a given. We depend on other drivers to pay attention (hang up and drive!) enough to avoid accidents that will slow us all down, to keep up with the car in front of them, to generally obey all the traffic laws, and yes, even to show courtesy now and again. While we recognize that there are some instances where legitimate emergencies (recognized by their sirens and flashing lights) will demand us to slow and pull over, we justly feel wronged when someone disregards the unwritten (and written) "codes" and obtrusively drives on the shoulder, butts in line, or otherwise puts him/herself above the cooperative spirit of the highway. It's when this spirit of self first dominates and exceeds the cooperative spirit that the whole system--not just a few inconvenienced drivers--begins to erode.

In short, on the highway, we depend on one another to restrain our self-centeredness in order to keep the system working best for all involved. We ought to simply expect that we cannot drive 90 mph, rapidly switching between lanes--not just because it's illegal, but because as drivers, we depend on other drivers not doing the same.

It occurs to me that while this analogy may be helpful in terms of contributing to a sense of social ethic, it falls far short of the demands of Christ. As the Church, we are bound to live our lives in sacrificial love (Mt. 22:36-40, pars.; Jn. 15:12-13), putting the needs of others before our own (Php. 2:1f.). In this is love perfected, the putting to death of the self, being made regenerate in the likeness of Christ, and subsequently living a life of humility, kindness, gentleness, faith, and goodness, in deference to others. It's a tall order, one which far surpasses our meager abilities. Hence, in life, we must continually turn to, acknowledge our utter dependence upon, and live our lives in surrender to our loving Heavenly Father.

On the highway, I'll settle for a courtesy wave.

For now.

An Historic Moment

2008-11-05T09:09:00.005-06:00

I offer my congratulations to Barack Obama on being elected the 44th President of these United States. I also offer my prayers for him--that he may lead, enriched by the godly virtues of love, wisdom, and grace, duly seeking justice and serving truth--and for his family.

There is no doubt that this is an historic moment in the history of our nation, and indeed, the world, as an African American has become our President-elect. Whilst our long war to end oppression, prejudice, and racism is far from over, the results of this election has dealt a hitherto unparalleled, staggering blow to these enemies. For that, at least, we should all be able to be grateful.

A New Freedom

2008-10-31T12:14:00.004-05:00

I've been reading some stuff lately that continues to reinforce my idea that modernistic individualism has run rampant in our society, particularly evidenced by the substance and meaning we attach to that all-surpassing term, "Freedom".

My assigned reading from Anselm's Cur Deus Homo has led me to reflect on what necessity means for God (Anselm would argue that the only operative force on God is his own volition...hence nothing can be presumed to be a necessity for God, see CDH, ii, 17/18). Perhaps the wise, obedient, and "fitting" exercise of our human wills is another feature of our being created in the imago Dei. On the flip side, when we make decisions which serve our misguided senses of self-importance, entitlement, and ultimate autonomy, we essentially live into the very basis of our (and Adam's) sin.

Still, it seems that a popular, cultural definition of freedom panders to just this end: freedom is being able to do/choose what I want. And, of course, our corrupted desires are often molded and shaped most by self-benefit, pleasure, comfort, etc. Simplifying the equation, then, we reach the point that freedom is nothing restricting me from attaining those goods and circumstances which provide me with pleasure, comfort, etc.

Pope Benedict XVI has recently maintained that this assumption is a corruption of true freedom. " 'A redefinition of the meaning of liberty' is needed, the Holy Father said, noting that it is more and more conceived as an 'untouchable right of the individual' while the 'importance of its divine origins and communitarian dimension' are ignored. 'According to this interpretation, an individual alone can decide and choose the physiognomy, characteristics and finality of life, death and marriage,' he added. But, 'true liberty is founded and developed ultimately in God. It is a gift that is possible to welcome as a seed and to make it mature responsibly so as to truly enrich the person and society.' " (see http://www.zenit.org/article-24113?l=english)

Indeed, the Church must define liberty, freedom--and live it out--in God. It's no coincidence that self-serving autonomy flies in the face of the two greatest commandments. True freedom, rather, is not freedom from all captivity, but it is captivity to the right master (Rom. 6:15ff; cf. 2 Cor. 3:17; Gal. 5:1, 13; 1 Pet. 2:16). The hard part? Sometimes the freedom given by God doesn't feel good. Sometimes it doesn't serve my needs (read: wants).

But it is of great importance that we understand that our happiness, our ultimate fulfilment as human beings, our salvation depends on something outside ourselves. Given, that, it may even be in the interest of our happiness to accept circumstances which are much less than pleasurable, than comfortable. As Anselm put it, "...it is not unhappiness to take upon oneself a discomfort willingly, out of wisdom, not out of necessity" (CDH, ii, 12).

Freedom is decidedly not captivity to our own desires. Freedom is abandonment of our bodies and minds (Rom. 12:1-2), of our lives and ourselves (Mark 8:34-38) to the mastery of Christ, of God. Only the One who gave us life in the beginning can restore it to us once again.

Kýrie, eléison.

Political Disillusionment ...and Baseball

2008-10-22T10:54:00.005-05:00

I enjoy baseball. Living in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area, I follow the Minnesota Twins. I’m not exactly the most devout, but I’d call myself a fan. I cheer them on, winning or losing. I try to make it to a few home games every season. I watch games or highlights online, note some statistics, and I could fairly well rattle off the starting lineup and pitching rotation, if it came to it.
I saw in our local newspaper today a small AP news story which, upon searching the internet, has made it all the way into BBC news. Succinctly, McCain is accusing Obama of backing National League World Series contender, the Philadelphia Phillies, when campaigning in Pennsylvania, and supporting the American League contender, the Tampa Bay Rays, whilst in Florida. Just one more reason I’ve become so disillusioned with politics.
Have we, the American citizenry, become so fickle, so shallow in our voting whims that we actually care what teams our candidates support? Is Obama’s appeal—if legitimate—to both sides of a baseball game actually good stumping practice? I certainly hope not. I certainly hope that I am with the majority of Americans when I say that a candidate’s sports allegiances don’t sway my political opinion one iota.
For what it’s worth, if anyone out there who might happen to read these words is actually is making his or her voting decision based on what baseball team the candidates do or don’t support, do me, yourself, and your country a favor and stay home on November 4th. Or better yet, take a few minutes to explore the issues and the candidates’ stances, and go the voting booth informed. I guarantee you that there are a lot of men and women who support the arch-rivals of your favorite teams who are very able politicians and can do America some good.

Even White Sox fans.

One addendum: It’s also my hope that a time might come when candidates no longer appeal to the insignificant, flimsy factors that contribute to popularity but say nothing of personal character and ability. As a swing voter, my vote can be had by presenting political policy, legislative, fiscal, and social methodology, and demonstrating integrity. My vote can be lost by trying to be all things to all people in order to win a popularity contest.

Torah and contemporary societal hostility

2008-08-18T16:59:00.003-05:00

A thought-inspiring quote in some Brueggemann I was reading:

"As the Western world has been perennially hostile to the claims of Jewish faith, so the emerging contemporary world of commodity grows more signally hostile to the claims of Christian faith as well. As has not been the case in the long Christian hegemony of the West, now the church is having to think and act to maintain a distinct identity for faith in an alien cultural environment. While the church will characteristically attend to the New Testament in such an emergency, a study of Torah already alerts us to the resources for this crisis that are older and deeper than in the New Testament. The Jews in exile reported themselves dismayed about singing of songs of Zion in a strange land (Ps 137:1-3). And now Christians face that same issue. The liberal Christian temptation is to accommodate dominant culture until faith despairs. The conservative Christian temptation is to fashion an absoluteness that stand disconnected from dominant culture. Neither of these strategies, however, is likely to sustain the church in its mission. More likely, we may learn from and with Jews the sustaining power of imaginative remembering, the ongoing, lively process of traditioning that is sure to be marked by ideological interest that, in the midst of such distinctiveness, may find fresh closures of reality not 'conformed to this world.' The preaching, teaching, and study of Torah is in order to 'set one's heart' differently, to trust and fear differently, to align oneself with an alternative account of the world (Little 1983)."
- Walter Brueggemann, An Introduction to the Old Testament (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2003), p. 27.

It is finished.

2008-07-23T06:18:00.002-05:00

I sit at the table which has been my workstation for about the last six weeks, gazing out the library window. A bird hops around on the grass outside. The leaves on the trees and shrubs are quiet on this still English day under an overcast English sky.

My last essay for my three-year Bachelor of Theology degree at the University of Oxford is done. It feels strange even typing the words. It has been such a tremendous, transforming time. There have been a number of long hours reading, writing, thinking, discussing, and learning. New relationships have been forged and have deepened quickly. But soon I, like most of my "new" friends, will be off to another part of the world, to put all I have learned to new tests and challenges.

The University of Oxford doesn't do closure well. The best adverb I can think of to describe the manner in which I bound and filed my last essay is "unceremoniously". Graduation ceremonies do not take place until March of next year. My college had a wonderful commissioning service back in early June, but that was before my work was done. Now, it is simply that: it's done. No parties, no celebrations, nothing outstanding to mark the occasion...it's just done.

When Jesus uttered the words "It is finished" on the cross just before he "gave up his spirit" (Jn. 19:30), what a profound utterance it was. "Unceremoniously" doesn't seem to describe Jesus' death at all, considering the supernatural events at the crucifixion recorded in the synoptic gospels: the sky being turned to darkness (Mt. 27:45/Mk. 15:33/Lk. 23:44-45), the earth shaking (Mt. 27:51), the temple curtain being torn in two (Mt. 27:51/Mk. 15:38/Lk. 23:45), the exclamation of the centurion (Mt. 27:54/Mk. 15:39/Lk. 23:47), many dead coming back to life (Mt. 27:52-53). Yet John doesn't give us any of that. He gives us: "It is finished." Simple, yet surpassingly profound: the focal point of human history expressed in three words.

I dare not equate these last three years of theological study with the earthly ministry of our Lord, much less the completion of my last essay with his crucifixion. Still, at this time when I feel such a sense of accomplishment, yet it goes relatively unmarked, I can't help wanting to steal his line.

I'm guessing he'll forgive me.

Singing Lullabies to the Giant

2008-07-15T02:33:00.002-05:00

The Archbishop of Sydney, Peter Jensen, recently declared at GAFCON that the actions of the US and Canadian Episcopal churches awoke a “sleeping giant”—that of “evangelical Anglicanism” and “orthodox Anglicanism”. I understand the sentiment, Archbishop, I really do…but might we have chosen a better metaphor?

I’m afraid that this “giant” metaphor is unwittingly (and informatively) revealing about the current status of the sharp personal, ethical, hermeneutical, and theological disagreements and fallings-out between the liberal and evangelical/orthodox ends of the Anglican Communion: for what sense can a “giant” metaphor convey except one of opposition, of strength, of domination, of intimidation, and of power?

Obviously, such qualities are hardly laudable from a biblical perspective. They seem to fly in the face of the Galatians 5 list of “fruits of the Spirit” (perhaps especially love, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, and self-control), the Beatitudes of Matthew 5 (“Blessed are… the poor in spirit, …the meek, …the merciful, …the peacemakers, …those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake…”), and the exhortation by Paul in Romans 12 (to bless those who persecute us, never to avenge ourselves, and ultimately not to repay anyone evil for evil, but to overcome evil with good). Indeed, such qualities pale in comparison to our Lord Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death-- even death on a cross.

What’s more, I would imagine that the term “giant”—even for those with a low level of biblical literacy—conjures up images of Goliath. Time and again, in both Old and New Testaments, we are given the examples of how the weaker, the meeker, and/or the more humble is granted victory, is delivered, or is otherwise justified (just off the top of my head, I think of Moses, Joshua, Gideon, Ruth, David, Peter, the women, Paul, and again, Jesus himself).

The giant needs to go back to sleep.

In my view, what needs to awaken further amongst evangelical and orthodox Anglicans is a spirit of prayer, of faith, of humility, of graciousness, of patience, of forgiveness, of sacrifice, and most of all, of love. The exceedingly difficult thing about such qualities is that they wrest power and control away from us. Yes, we may well feel like “we’re losing”. Yes, we will have to admit our own fallibility and culpability, even in the face of those with whom we so strongly disagree. But our refusal to send forth a champion, our defiance of the lures of the real Enemy, and our commitment to taking up our own cross will place these disagreements—this battle, if we must—exactly where it needs to be: in the hands of our God.

The Church and Politics, part 1

2008-06-24T06:39:00.005-05:00

Let me admit from the very beginning that I am a rank amateur when it comes to politics, political science, and even political theology. Hence, I am genuinely interested in people's comments and opinions as to the content of this post.

As the US presidential election draws ever nearer, the media, popular discussion, websites and blogs (including this one, obviously!) become ever more saturated with coverage of the candidates, of opinions, of campaigning, etc., etc. (Incidentally, check out the polling map I've added on the sidebar!) As some of my comments over at my friend Erik's blog will reveal, I continue to ruminate on the role of politics from a theological viewpoint...not that there is just one way of thinking on this.

Succinctly, no one is campaigning on a "we're fine, let's keep everything the same" platform. Surely such an attitude would prevent one from getting out of the starting blocks in a would-be political career. We've got problems: as individuals, as communities, as ethnic groups, as states, as a nation, as societies, as a race. Some of these delineations are highlighted to a greater or lesser extent in the campaigns, presumably proportionally to how proposed solutions contribute to electability (or not). In very stereotypical and stark terms, the Democrats and the Republicans offer two different broad solutions: the Democrats claim that the government can best make things better; the Republicans claim that individuals/groups/businesses can.

Enter theology: God says he can...uniquely, and far better than any merely human endeavor.

As infinitely wiser and more knowledgeable and more powerful than humanity, God alone is the source of true Hope for our world...not merely in the age to come, but in the here-and-now. The Bible makes the audacious claim that the root of our problems lies ultimately in our rebellion against God: as individuals, as communities, etc., and that God is presently at work wooing back all of us rebels into relationship with him. As that relationship grows and deepens, God performs the incomprehensible: he transforms his people into the likeness of his only Son, Jesus. This transformation is in thought and deed, so that we might have the mind of Christ and enact and embody the Good News (Gospel) of God's holistic plan of salvation in our society today.

Holding as I do to a Gospel embodied in the Church, my default assumption would then be that the vehicle for "God making things better" in the here-and-now is the Church. Now, regardless of how you view "the Church", there are problems...huge problems. I'm aware. (Remember, I'm an Anglican!) But my immediate question is not so much in relation to those problems. Rather, I'm interested in how this Church--specifically its manifestation in the USA (or in "Western" society)--is meant to interact with the political process.

I have Christian friends who are dyed-in-the-wool Democrats; others who are staunch Republicans; others who consistently vote for third-party candidates. Still others seem to have eschewed the political process altogether. And here sit I, trying to reason through the Church's rightful role (if there be only one): do we seek to enact the Gospel primarily within and through the political system, or without it? Are we so daunted by the enormity of the problems we face, and so dismayed at the disunity in the Church, that we see only government as holding promise for addressing the issues? Do we see the Gospel as primarily for the individual, and less for the other strata of human society?

Much more to be said, but perhaps it's best to let others in on the conversation before proceeding. A couple of disclaimers I would make at the outset of any ensuing discussion: I am not an anarchist, nor am I in favor of whatever people might posit which would draw us closer to a theocracy.

The gift of time

2008-04-01T10:08:00.005-05:00

One of the topics I've done a bit of reflecting on in the last few weeks has been time. I think it all started when we had a sermon in chapel by Regent's Park chaplain Myra Blyth, who eloquently told us of the Hebrew notion of what she called "intuitive time". In the West, where we are so driven by the clock, intuitive time is more cognizant of the daily, weekly, and seasonal rhythms of life. We still have it, to some extent: we can "intuit" bedtime or naptime, dinnertime, and even time to exercise, to get out of bed, to work, to rest, to be alone, to reflect, etc.

The clock is not inherently an enemy of intuitive time, but unchecked, it does facilitate the loss of our ability to intuit such time. We lose touch with our bodies, with creation, with our relationships. Earmarks of this loss of touch often smack of excess: working too much, eating too much, sleeping too much, relaxing too much, and generally living life at an unsustainable pace. In addition, our heightened dependence on the clock and rejection of intuitive time brings about all new means of justification of one's inability to keep pace, such as the incredible (not in a good way) Gmail custom time.

In one way, this recognition has heightened my appreciation for Church practices all the more. Through the daily office, Morning and Evening Prayer, I find myself more attuned to the rhythm of living in dependent relation to God from day to day (Mt. 6:34). Through following the liturgical calendar, my life is set more to the seasonal rhythm of the life of Christ. Through honoring the Sabbath, I come to recognize the importance of rest--not for the sake of "efficiency"--but for a whole host of theological reasons, from recognizing my own limitations and dependence on God, to acknowledging my relation to the divine, and being a "co-creator", to a foretaste of the true rest offered in Christ.

Without these or other, similar disciplines (and no mistake, they require attention and effort!), I fear the Church runs the risk not only of becoming chronologically indistinguishable from the world, but also of becoming wholly incapable of understanding--and living into--the vast riches of the variance of the biblical seasons...a time for every matter under heaven (Ecc. 3:1)...and therefore the ability to follow our Lord's injunction to "interpret the times" (Mt. 16:3/Lk. 12:56).

Time is a gift of God to us. Would that we might always grow in our acknowledgement and appreciation of it.

A River Runs Through It, embodiment, and the consummation of all things

2008-02-27T06:52:00.007-06:00

I have always liked the story of A River Runs Through It by Norman Maclean. I read the book a number of years ago, and have watched the film numerous times thereafter. The film would easily fall into my top ten most-liked films.

I suppose many people get a general sense, whether consciously or unconsciously, of whether they like or dislike films based on how well the philosophy put forth by the story coincides with the viewer’s. Unfortunately, I am not quick-thinking or well-read enough to be able to understand—much less verbalize—my reasoning pertaining to my estimation of a film immediately after watching it. This has the disadvantage of giving me no ready answer to the question of why I liked (or disliked) a film in the short-term, but it has the advantage of allowing me to discover previously undisclosed treasures about a film that I have watched (and perhaps re-watched) some time afterwards. Such is the ongoing case with A River Runs Through It.

Today, I was ruminating on the propensity I would think all humans have to desire—even seek out—(a) normative principle(s) behind the meaning of life, of existence. Even the proposal that no such principle(s) exist(s) is, in itself, a bold example of such a principle. When contemplating such things from a Christian standpoint, I have personally always been drawn to Ephesians 1:8b-10:

“With all wisdom and insight 9 [God] has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, 10 as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.”

Such promise lies within these words! All of creation is being and will be swept up into Christ. As humans, we have the extraordinary privilege of sharing in that promise—even now, in our present life—in a very special way through being incorporated into Christ, as the next verses portray:

“11 In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, 12 so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. 13 In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; 14 this is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption.”

Inasmuch as this is a plan for all of creation, so it relies heavily upon creation theology. Notably, the creation assertion that human beings are created in the image of God (Gen. 1:27, 5:1, 9:6; cf. 1 Cor. 11:7; Eph. 4:24; Jas. 3:9) plays a major role in our understanding of the mystery of being conformed to the image of his Son (Rom. 8:29; 2 Cor. 3:18), the firstborn of all creation (Col. 1:15).

But also, our doctrine of creation ex nihilo (out of nothing) and creation through Christ (John 1:3), suggests that even in the goodness of creation, the “plan for the fullness of time” was at work. And though it may be a bit of a doctrinal extrapolation, it seems within reason to think that the combination of our unified destiny as sharing in Christ with the wonderful diversity of creation would uphold, even stress—against a rather Gnostic assertion—the importance of the everyday matters of our lives.

We evangelicals (perhaps read: Protestants?) tend to downplay the significance of anything that doesn’t appeal to our sense of “gospel” importance. Being at seminary, my thoughts here turn primarily to the theological: the sacraments; the visible, institutionalized church; principles such as fellowship, dialogue, unity; some ethical considerations; even the practice of theological study itself, just to name a few, are often denigrated as inconsequential or arbitrary to the purely pragmatic undertaking of “preaching the gospel”. (e.g., cf. Melanchton: “It is necessary to distinguish from the episcopal polity, bound to place person and due succession, offices and human regulations—the ministry of the gospel instituted by God and continually restored by his great mercy which perpetually serves the Church and is not bound to certain places, persons and human laws but to the gospel (CR 5.627; cf. 559).” (emphasis mine)) As if the gospel is anything if not embodied!

Is it right to say that the gospel (which I understand best as the person and action of Jesus Christ, I’m not sure how Melanchthon defines it) transcends these things? Of course. We see but dimly (1 Cor. 13:12). But we still see (note St. Paul using the same verb for what we do now (see dimly) and what we will do then (see face to face)—in fact, in the Greek, the verb appears only once), and the extent to which we see is a shadow of the things to come, whose substance is Christ (cf. Col. 2:17). The historicity of the incarnation—that Jesus came as a real person to a real world in actual history—is of central importance. So, too, is our continued embodiment of the gospel, as we pray: “not only with our lips, but in our lives”. So, too, is the “plan for the fullness of time” relevant to the whole of creation—which waits with eager longing, by the way, for the revealing of the children of God, that it may obtain the freedom of our glory (Rom. 8:19-23).

In Revelation, we are given a brief, apocalyptic glimpse of what this final glory, this consummated plan, looks like. It looks, so far as it can be described, like a city, resplendent in the glory of the presence of the living God. And here, at long last, is where I have come to appreciate the film A River Runs Through It all the more. It’s closing line is: “Eventually, all things merge into one…and a river runs through it. I am haunted by waters.” But the apocalyptic thrust of Norman Maclean’s words, how the memories of loved ones passed on—their words, under the rocks in the bed of the stream—fills him with the sense of his loneliness and a dire longing for being reunited with them…that longing is precisely what is afforded to all who are swept up into Christ—we are united intimately with him and with each other, sharing in glory, for all eternity in the new Jerusalem.

And guess what? A river runs through it.

Revelation 22:1-2: Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb 2 through the middle of the street of the city.

Collect for the Second Sunday after the Epiphany

2008-01-23T01:42:00.000-06:00

Almighty God, whose Son our Savior Jesus Christ is the light of the world: Grant that your people, illumined by your Word and Sacraments, may shine with the radiance of Christ's glory, that he may be known, worshiped, and obeyed to the ends of the earth; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, now and for ever.

Amen!

Pursuing a supralapsarian soteriology...

2007-12-20T04:05:00.000-06:00

Strange that going to an evangelical theological college can make one reconsider one's soteriology--the what and how of salvation. I've long been more tempted by a comprehensive view, claiming that Jesus didn't just come to "save our souls", but so that we might have life in abundance! (cf. Jn. 10:10), not just saving us up for Judgment Day, when we will begin to enjoy life eternal with the Father...but beginning to live out the inaugurated (by the incarnation, death, and resurrection of Jesus) kingdom in the here and now. I guess this thinking is what's known as a supralapsarian (i.e., transcending the Fall) view. Terminology notwithstanding, it still beckons my thoughts and ponderings.

I ran across this paragraph that I think puts it well:
"Both the Bible and church tradition use different words and metaphors to describe and interpret God's mission of kingdom-building: re-captiulation, salvation, conversion, liberation, shalom-ing, reconciliation, transfiguration, etc. None of them should be 'reductive' of mission (RM 17). (Reductive examples: salvation applies only to 'souls', assumptions or only to those who are explicitly committed in faith and discipline to Jesus Christ as the Lord and Saviour; reconciliation, only to human or only to God relationships; liberation, only to political, social or economic conditions, or only to personal sinfulness; transfiguration, only to persons, and not to all cultures, humanity itself, indeed the whole of creation.) 'The kingdom of God is the manifestation and the realization of God's plan of salvation in all its fullness' (RM 15). It is not for us and our words to separate what the Father and the Spirit already hold together in the Word."
- Stransky, T. F., "The Mission of the Church: Post-Vatican II Developments in 'Official' RC Theology," in Evangelical Review of Theology, vol. XXIII, no. 1, Jan. 1999. NB: "RM" = Redemptoris missio, Encyclical Letter of Pope John Paul II, 7 Dec. 1990.

One major pragmatic issue is how we incorporate this comprehensive, holistic soteriology into our common evangel. Certainly, as in the previous post, in part it means living out the life of God's people as the Church.

I'll go on thinking...

Point to Ponder: Missional Ecclesiology

2007-12-10T05:01:00.000-06:00

It seems a pragmatic hallmark of evangelicalism is (or can be) the subservience of all aspects of the Christian life to the priority of gospel proclamation, of seeing people "come to faith" or "get saved". It's difficult to question this tenet without opening oneself up to the criticisms of being unbiblical, deluded, or doctrinally unsound - questioning the uniqueness of Christ, the authority of Scripture, etc.

As I continue to be drawn to the study of ecclesiology, however, I feel that such a priority can not only propagate an individualistic and anthropocentric soteriology, it can render the Church less and less meaningful...relegating it, essentially, to being little more than "friends who can help me get the work of evangelism done". When in fact, I might argue that we are severely inhibiting our evangel by not living into our God-given calling to be one holy catholic and apostolic Church: to see our gospel proclamation lived out...not as simply something we must do, but as something we, collectively, essentially are.

But it is good to find allies once in awhile. In some reading I am doing today, I ran across the following thoughtful & helpful paragraph on missional ecclesiology:

"A missional ecclesiology is not a doctrine of the church in which everything is subordinated to a mandate for missionary activity which supposedly precedes, supersedes, and encompasses all community building. Neither does it refer to a theology that places everything that the church is and does under the umbrella concept of missio Dei. It is an effort to reconsider the theological self-definition of the church in the perspective of an emphasized eschatology and in that way to help concrete communities of Christians to relate their identity to their experience of the predicament of pluralism." - Hoedemaker, B. (1999), “Toward an Epistemologically Responsible Missiology,” in Kirk & Vanhoozer, eds., To Stake a Claim: Mission and the Western Crisis of Knowledge (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books), p. 227.

Granted, his last statement needs contextualizing to make more sense of it, but suffice it to say I was encouraged in some of my own ruminations by his assertions. Oh, well...back to it!

Sermon: Unity of the Church

2007-10-13T05:14:00.000-05:00

Below is the text for a sermon I gave for preaching class.

Lesson: Ephesians 4:1-16

One. The number is perhaps unmatched in its rhetorical and conceptual power.
One. Mathematically speaking, it is the root of all we can know or surmise, existing as a numerical concept even before “0”.

One. Were we to survey the poetic ponderings, musical musings, and philosophical reflections on this expression of singularity, I would imagine we would find an enormous wealth of speculation as to its nature, its potency, its essence.
One.

And here, in our Scripture passage, the author of Ephesians, seeks to do that which is mathematically paradoxical: through a strikingly eloquent exhortation--“…one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God…”—he seeks to superimpose this one-ness, this singularity, upon that which is, by its very nature, pluralistic: he claims that the Church of Jesus Christ, is meant, ideologically, to be a unity. And this unifying vision saturates the remainder of the epistle.
But many factors war against this vision of unity in the Church. In the first century Near East, factions were manifold: some political, some religious, some ethnic. Embodying all three was the well-known division of Jew and Gentile. Those who bore such labels, even those who were members of the Church in Ephesus, were nonetheless more susceptible, from a human perspective, to division than to unity.
Today, we face challenges similar in poignancy, if not in kind. Our society lauds a spirit of independence and individualism. Differences of race, gender, ethnicity, political affiliation, and yes, even sexual orientation tear at the seams of the Church. We see profound expressions of disunity in the worldwide Church, in our own Anglican Communion, and even very close to home.
And it bears mentioning that our own theology can affect our understanding and practice of unity. Consider carefully the misleading, even if unintentional, emphases embedded within the standard evangelical approach to the Christian life: YOU become a Christian when YOU invite Jesus into YOUR heart, accept him as YOUR Saviour, and make him Lord of YOUR life, thus beginning a PERSONAL relationship with Jesus, and thus YOU are saved. Discipleship, too, is often centred about a PERSONAL “walk with the Lord” and “quiet time”. What is troubling about these emphases is not so much that they are misplaced, but that they are seen as ends, rather than means.
And it is here that Ephesians offers a wider perspective, a farther-reaching theology. While not seeking to minimize the substantial differences between Jew and Gentile, the author of Ephesians works diligently—as we see in chapters 2 and 3—to outline an ecclesiology, a Christology that surpasses these significant schisms in view of a transcendent unity. For he seems desperate not to allow the Ephesian church to remain in the individualistic infancy of their faith.
“Yes, it is true,” he writes, “that Christ has apportioned grace in certain amounts to each of us…and yes, each of us has been given differing gifts but this favour of Christ is operative, meant to be utilized to accomplish God’s purposes: to equip the saints for ministry, to build up the body of Christ in love, to bring the church to maturity, attaining to the fullness of Christ.”
The fullness of Christ: these words cast an astounding eschatological vision. But it is not merely one which is granted to us at the consummation of all things, rather the vision is also an ecclesial vision for the here and now. The author unleashes this vision from his chains, whence he begs the churches of Asia Minor to live a life worthy of the calling they have received. A calling that seems as preposterous and paradoxical as it is profound: that the many should become One.
But if the concept of “One” is poignant in philosophical and mathematical reflection, it is all the more saturated with meaning in theology. “Hear, O Israel, the Lord your God, the Lord is One.” Arguably, what the author of this epistle envisages for the Church is nothing less than this: the indissoluble intimacy of Triune God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, to which he alludes in his “one” rhetoric: One Spirit (v. 4), One Lord (that is, Jesus, v. 5), One God and Father of all (v. 6). And hence, the Church is called to the task
- of reflecting, yet not merely reflecting,
- of portraying, yet not merely portraying,
- indeed, of embodying, of actualizing the mystery of hypostatic union to the world.
And this, this is why the Church in Ephesus is exhorted to live in humility, gentleness, patience, and love. This is why, in the latter half of chapter four, the Church is admonished for living in the old ways of darkened understanding, in futility of mind. This is also why today we must be wary of making our soteriology purely individualistic and moral, for we are, through our election by God the Father before the foundation of the world, through our seal of the promised Holy Spirit, and through our baptism into the death and resurrection of Christ—through all these things—we are inextricably bound to one another in the indissoluble intimacy of the Triune God.

We are One.

And this call to move from individualistic infancy to indissoluble intimacy is the calling we, as the Church, have received. This is the unity of the faith, the knowledge of the Son of God. This is the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.

Scripture in the Community of Faith

2007-09-04T08:56:00.000-05:00

An interesting quote I ran across while reading for my long essays lies below. I am becoming increasingly convinced of the primary need of an interpretive community when interacting with scripture, over everyone primarily serving as his/her own hermeneut:

“…All this [he has just talked about scripture in the worship tradition of the Church], then, belongs to what may be called the liturgical use of scripture, rooted in the rich context of corporate worship to which it focally belongs. It is only at this point that the question of the so-called ‘devotional’ use of scripture can be faced. That it is introduced at the end, and not at the beginning, is not accidental. It might seem logical to start discussion with the picture of the individual Christian with the Bible in his hand, but the logic of the Gospel points in other directions. Scripture locates itself at the heart of the Christian community and at the centre of its worshipping life. Its liturgical use remains primary. When the community disperses, the Tradition goes with it, to write new commentaries in individual lives.” Clark, Neville, “Scripture in Liturgical Perspective”, in Gray, Donald, ed., The Word in Season (Norwich: The Canterbury Press, 1988), p. 27.

The spin-offs of this are manifold and fascinating! What does it mean for our evangel? Our soteriology? Our lives of discipleship?

Circuit City comes through

2007-08-13T00:08:00.000-05:00

I suppose there are a plethora of blogs out there which have been utilized by disgruntled customers to lambast products and retailers. May I actually offer a recommendation?

Not long after I purchased an HP notebook last year, I found the A/C port was faulty. Being a student in England, I was told HP UK would not touch it, that I'd have to get it fixed in the US. Well, to make a loooong and extraordinarily frustrating story short, I attempted to interact with HP for about 7 months to get the problem resolved. No result.

So, I turned back to Circuit City in Roseville, MN, where I bought the unit and their own extended warranty protection. After patiently listening to my entire story, the store director, called Mark, said to bring the unit in and he'd have one of his techs take a look. The next day, I did so, and a tech named Jason removed about 5,000 screws from it only to discover that the A/C connector was completely fried. The store director knew I am headed back the UK at the end of the month, and didn't have time to go through the 4-6 wk. repair process through HP (he also knew how frustrated I was with them). After some covert chatting with some of his colleagues, Mark returned to me, offering to apply the full purchase value of my HP notebook against a brand-new notebook of anything they had. A sales rep named Chris, who was very helpful, took over. After selecting a Toshiba that is quite obviously an upgrade, and getting the 4-year protection plan, I ended up owing Circuit City a grand total of just over $40.

I couldn't believe the generosity and kindness of the folks at Circuit City. This is customer service at its absolute finest. For anyone reading in the Mpls/St. Paul metro in the market for electronics, please stop in to Circuit City in Roseville. And if you happen to see the store director named Mark, a tech named Jason, or a sales rep named Chris (who was wearing a nametag with "Kurt" on it), mention that you read this blog, and thank them again for me.

Ecclesiology & Women Priests

2007-06-18T17:05:00.000-05:00

My friend over at Priests & Paramedics tipped me off to a thoughtful article at pontifications on women priests. I’ve just read the article (pt I, at least) for the first time, but my initial responses, as I rehearse them, seem to be bound around one particular thought, which has less to do with the ordination of women, perhaps, and more to do with the Church:

It should come as given to any Catholic that anyone born into the tradition must accept that what is, as far as the Church is concerned, is what is. While we may be able to speak in ideological terms, if we hold to any expression of a visible Church, it seems we cannot allow ourselves to imagine that the Church is any more or less that what it actually is. Certainly, this was true across “the globe” up until 1054, or perhaps until the early 1500s. But what of now? After 1054, or after 1500, do we accede that the Roman Catholic Church is the “One, True Church”? (It is, after all, popular lingo within Roman Catholic circles.) I guess what I mean is, is only the Roman Catholic Church that which God has intended? Is she the sole keeper of orthodoxy? Although those are not the same question, I believe them to be related, and I find it very difficult to answer “yes” to either. Of course, this raises further questions. How do we find any semblance of an answer to these questions? True, they may not be “Catholic” questions, but that doesn’t do me much good, as I am not a Catholic. Five hundred years of “Protestant” thought has served to shape and mold the philosophical, epistemological, social, educational, etc., etc. context in which I entered life and grew up. And, of course, to say that I must abandon all my “Protestant” thought in order to become a “true Christian” (i.e., member of the One, True Church) seems tantamount to Muslims saying the only way I can really read the Qur’an is to have grown up speaking Arabic.

Let’s face it, though, the Church (and here, I am speaking of many denominations, including Roman Catholicism) has problems. To their credit, Catholics and Orthodox have retained an overall institutional structure (which is needed, in my opinion) that has survived with great integrity. I admire that. But I must also admit that I admire the missional fervor of the Southern Baptists. I admire the Scriptural saturation of many evangelicals. I admire the mystery of Eastern Orthodoxy, the liveliness of Pentecostalism, and the salt-of-the-earth nature of many Lutherans I’ve met. But all of these denominational expressions have severe problems, too. I doubt anyone seriously denies that.

A huge question, for me, then becomes: “how do we map ecclesial change—whether it’s appropriate or inappropriate?” Oh, what a muddled, muddled question. As a “good Anglican”, my default authority structure (inherited as it is) is Scripture, tradition, and reason. And now, finally, coming to the issue of women in the priesthood: you’re right…I’m still considering it. I may always be considering it. Currently, I’m willing to say that it may have been a reform that was long in coming, but was likely made the standard too quickly. I shudder at the rate of change in lots of Protestant denominations around such issues. It could be that it was instituted erroneously, as some would argue it shatters all three legs of my “authoritative stool”. But I have to land somewhere, and, for now, it’s here:

1. I don’t think it violates Scripture. Yes, there are troublesome verses to this stance, to be sure. But I don’t think, applying the same (or very similar) hermeneutical method, that one must consequently be in favor of the ordination of homosexuals (a common argument these days). In fact, if I were mounting a case for homosexual ordination, I don’t think I’d lobby for the same hermeneutical method.

2. Tradition is, admittedly, the toughest of the three for my case. Of course, it is an innovation introduced only in the last half-century. This is the one that most often “keeps me thinking” on this issue. But it should be noted that my cultural context again speaks loads into the way in which I process this information…and my ecclesial cultural context (as well as my ‘secular’ one) was one saturated with women in all sorts of roles formative to my development as a man of faith.

3. Not currently subscribing (totally, at least) to a Roman Catholic understanding of the priesthood, I believe that the ordination of women is actually more reasonable than their non-ordination. Although more discussion is here warranted, I defer to my explanations above for now.

Finally, I would address the two quotes in the article, responding in the way my brain often does, with follow-up questions:
I find Pope John Paul II’s quote interesting, because I still don’t understand the papal role. It seems that in order for him to speak thus, he must have authority over (and thus outside) the whole church. But evidently his authority is enough to make such declarations, but not enough to institute that level of reform. This is puzzling to me, not least because it again insinuates to me that there is no papal accountability to the church. I must be reading it wrong.
I find Fr Alexander Schmemann’s quote puzzling, unless either the “speaking for all Orthodoxy” is incorrect or that the word “dialogues” was only in reference to dialogues on the issue itself, as there continue significant Anglican/Orthodox dialogues into the present day (click here).

Thoughtful and helpful comments are, as always, welcome!

The Holy Father and the Roman Catholic Church

2007-06-04T06:21:00.000-05:00

The picture above was taken on a vacation/pilgrimage that friends Adam, Erik, and Abu Daoud, and wife Kendra and I took to Rome last week. The experience has left much on which to reflect. Benedict's message was on Tertullian, and moreover how this Church Father's engagement with "secular" philosophy could be a guide for how we, as 21st-century Christians, can engage with our culture.

But I find myself ruminating more on the essence of the Roman Catholic Church. Help me out, here, readers: I know the Pope is held to be the "Vicar of Peter"...apostolicity incarnate, through succession, tracing back to Christ's institution of Peter as the Rock on which Christ would build his Church.

But what, exactly, is the Pope's relationship to/with the Roman Catholic Church? Is the Pope seen to be the representation of the Church entire? Or merely the apostolic head thereof? Or am I erring greatly in my usage of such terms?

I guess one of the things I'm trying to figure out is how one "evaluates" (yes, a very Protestant way of thinking--see post below) the Roman Catholic Church, perhaps most especially in terms of practice. Does one consider merely the Pope himself? The full magisterium? Clergy and lay persons alike? Some representative cross-section?

These concepts are important to my seeking understanding of the essence of the Roman Catholic Church. Admittedly, I am very much influenced by my Protestant and American bent toward pragmatism (something I'm dealing with in another corner of my mind)...but for the present, it's where I am. Helpful advice welcome!

Anglican thought?

2007-03-21T21:53:00.000-05:00

A small group of close friends and I meet every Wednesday night in a local pub to talk theology over a pint of ale. A frequented topic within our discussions is the Catholic/Protestant division(s), a topic (hopefully) quite expected amongst Anglicans. In our discussions, it has become increasingly apparent that said divisions are far from being only dogmatic in nature, but are (or perhaps, have become) manifested in the philosophical/epistemological realm. Often, when one of us makes a point for one side, another will respond, "But you're thinking as a Protestant, not as a Catholic," or vice versa.

For me, as one who is very much hoping that Anglicanism is (or can be) a legitimate Via Media (a sort-of "middle road" between Roman Catholicism and Protestantism), such a realization brings with it definitive points for exploration. What, indeed, does it mean to "think as a Protestant"? as a Catholic? And, significantly, does "Via Media Anglicanism" necessarily fall into one camp or the other, or is there (or can there be) a distinctly Anglican way of thinking? And, of course, how would such a way of thinking be expressed?

It seems that our little group of theologians (and I use that word lightly, at least in my case) have appropriated the usage of the terminology, "a RC/P way of thinking" based on certain methodologies of philosophical development born, at least in part, in denominational dogma regarding specific doctrines, not the least of which being ecclesiology, as well as its role (or lack thereof) in hermeneutics. Can there exist a substantive understanding of these doctrines specific (although perhaps not unique) to Anglicanism?

It seems that a quick glance at the current (highly) politicized debates within the Anglican communion would say, "no". Of the loudest voices on both ends of the debate, there are mainly those who, despite their lip service to the inherent goodness of maintaining unity (which conceptually may prove nonsensical in a Catholic way of thinking, anyway), are quite obviously arguing in a very Protestant manner. And perhaps those (like +++Rowan) who are working hard to maintain a sense of catholicity (note--small "c") about the Communion are incapable of or unwilling to bring to fruition the implications of a more Catholic understanding of ecclesiology.

Giving further weight to the "no" answer is the claim of John Henry Newman's Apologia Pro Vita Sua. While I am only in the midst of my first time through this engaging work, I am well aware that Cardinal Newman's conclusion was that the Via Media was an untenable position, which ultimately led to his conversion to Roman Catholicism.

But some of the parenthetical notations of my first two paragraphs should reveal the quiet hope that I hold: that this time of crisis in the Anglican Communion could eventually be precisely the vehicle for (re-?) establishing a Via Media, most especially in thought. If nothing else, provided there exists an Anglican Church beyond these debates, Anglicans should emerge with a greater--not lesser--sense of who we are. Doctrinal assumptions should become more--not less--nuanced to a particular "standard". And perhaps Anglicans across the globe may have to "opt in" to a particularly Anglican expression of the Christian faith, which, please God, would be actualized in our episcopal structure, in our bishops. Perhaps then we might have the building blocks to a genuinely Anglican way of thinking.

Seem like a long shot? Hmmm...I would say, "More like impossible." But surely my faith in a Lord who rose from the dead teaches me that "impossible" never rules out hope. Hope that is seen is no hope at all.

The Beauty Epidemic

2007-01-30T14:02:00.000-06:00

I've been doing a bit of reflecting on beauty. I'm sure there exist volumes upon volumes of much more sophisticated reflections, and even libraries dedicated to aesthetics. But what are blogs for?

It is my firm conviction that beauty exists all around us. Yes, I'm willing to concede that it may be beauty marred by the ugliness of sin, but I would contend that there is still enough of the Creator's hand at work in our world and within us that beauty--real beauty--exists. My reflections, though, turn less on this point and more on how we then interact with this beauty.

I've noted that, for my own part, there are generally two stages that come about. First comes the observation of beauty. Something, be it a sunset, a painting, a recitation of a verse, a piece of music, etc., takes hold of me. But here, already, is my primary problem: I don't know how to appreciate these forms of beauty. Instead of doing whatever it is I now (upon reflecting) feel I should be doing, I move from observation (which often lasts an infinitessimal amount of time) to the second stage, consumption. I want to own it. I want it to be mine. I want to take a picture of the sunset, buy a print of the painting, or a book of the poem, or a CD of the music. I want to be able to access it whenever I want to. In short, I want to control it.

Another problematic aspect of this movement from appreciation to consumption is that it erodes my own sensibilities (if, indeed, I have any) toward what makes something beautiful. Surely, a rareness of occurrence can contribute toward making something more beautiful (e.g. a rainbow). So also must context and circumstance within which the beautiful is encountered play a role. But when I step in to control and dominate beauty, I find I cannot. The photograph of the sunset is never as striking as the real thing. The CD can play, nearly unheeded, not as beauty, but as background noise.

And this can lead to a third stage. The disappointment and perhaps frustration that comes from not being able to consume beauty can lead me to want to destroy beauty. I suppose the (sick) reasoning is that, "if I can't have it, neither should anyone else have it." I can't say that I have moved to this stage often, in fact I struggle to come up with a personal example at the moment. But the pervasiveness in our society of crimes like vandalism, desecration, and even rape speaks loudly to me of this third, consequential stage.

So, my prayer is simply that I would learn how to appreciate beauty. Not to own it, not to control it. Rather, that I would have the sense of mind and peace of spirit to pause, absorb, and give thanks when I am met by beauty. For beauty is, as I see it, an invitation to simply be, a vehicle into wonder, a reassurance that He Who Is Beauty remains.

In memoriam

2007-01-15T08:25:00.000-06:00

As Kendra and I are settling back into life in Oxford, we were saddened to hear of the death of my dad's brother, Robert (Bob) Noel Conley. Uncle Bob passed away at about 3:30 PM CST at his home in Clay City, IL on Sunday, 14 January 2007 after a long battle with cancer. I remember Uncle Bob as a good-natured man, always ready with a smile or a joke. He knew how to enjoy life. He loved to tell stories, and to hear them, as well. He loved God, his family, and his country. He has served as the Conley family historian, and even recently put together a wonderful account of his service in the Army during World War II. His family would appreciate your prayers at this time of saying good-bye. Perhaps more especially as Uncle Bob's eldest son's (Mike's) wife, Tracy, is soon to be facing severe treatment for Leukemia.

Uncle Bob, I will miss your stories, your jokes, your fascination with what others would deem "small" things, and your contagious, cackly laughter. Rest in God's peace

Me with Dad (left) and Uncle Bob, enjoying the water from Sailor Springs, IL.

Dogma on Dogma

2006-10-14T02:38:00.000-05:00

Recently, I’ve been contemplating the relationship between doctrine (or dogma, i.e. doctrinal reflection) and narrative. That is, the interaction between the systematized, structured, propositional form that dogma assumes versus the non-propositional, plot-driven, engaging flow embodied in story.

I’ve become convinced of the necessity of both. There are perhaps some who would argue that dogma is an unnecessary, purely human construct that is laid over the top of the Scripture (which has much narrative) to somehow commandeer our thinking away from that which the narrative presents. And I do readily admit that dogma can become overemphasized, preferred in what is a somewhat false dichotomy between it and narrative, of which we shall see more below. Still, as has been recently discussed in my doctrine class, the rational mind cannot escape its learned (and some might say, God-given) pattern of thinking logically, propositionally, and because of this, everyone utilizes a dogmatic format (therefore, doctrine) when engaging with Scripture. It may well be a construct, but it is an unavoidable construct, if we are to be at all thoughtful about Scripture.

To return to the earlier point, however, in this age of the dying of modernity, when story is reemphasized and propositional truths are often treated as suspect, aren’t we compelled to explore once again the dangers of overemphasizing a purely dogmatic engagement with the Scriptures? I would argue that we, as the 21^st century Western Church, need to work towards discovering a path that engages with both dogma and narrative as fully as possible. Truly, to reduce those narrative portions of Scripture (OT histories, NT gospels, Acts) to purely linear, dogmatic propositions steals away from the power of their original presentation in story form. Story grips us in a way that dogma cannot. Story compels us more than, engages different sensitivities than, and is more dynamic and organic than dogma. Further, if we purport to be calling people to be reconciled to God (2 Cor 5:20), to love God and their neighbor (Mt 22:34-39), then surely story piques those relational elements within us—in a very needful manner—more so than dogma, and therefore becomes a powerful evangelistic implement.

For instance, if you were just to meet someone called Josh, what would be more compelling, relationally: for Josh to tell you that he was a compassionate man or for Jack to relay a story from his past that demonstrated his compassion embodied? In this age, perhaps any age, the former methodology would be immediately regarded with suspicion: a claim is made that sounds boastful, inauthentic, and about achieving some purpose, like Josh wanting to gain favor and admiration. The second however, if presented well, can draw the audience in, present compassion as a characteristic trait of Josh’s, but leaves it nestled into the surrounding story. Its innate humility leaves the hearer to pick out (or not!) the subtle flavor of Josh’s compassionate nature from the complex simplicity of the glass of wine that is his story.

Of course, the story is meant to achieve something, and it cannot do so without dogmatic engagement. Josh’s story that conveys a sense of his compassionate nature is nothing if I have no understanding of what it means to assign someone the label of compassionate. Hence, dogma is indispensable.

I suppose the concept I’m getting at is that modernity-driven evangelicals, much like me, have tended to place too much value on doctrine (perhaps because it was the best defense against enlightenment critiques of religion), relative to narrative. We’ve assumed that propositional truth is primarily what moves people forward in the call to Christ. We’ve forced our story to be nothing more than a vehicle to doctrine, instead of a necessity, which eventually, inevitably, led it to be obsolete.

Now, however, when film and television have paired their stories with images and music, the deliciousness of story has been taken to a new level, and we find ourselves struggling to keep up. It is a worthwhile struggle, though. God had foreseen that when he sent his Son to become part of our story, or rather, when we have been made a part of his.

The evangelists of this age may well be the storytellers.

TWINS WIN!!!

2006-10-01T16:58:00.000-05:00

Due to a come-from-behind tie, then win in the 12th by the Royals over the Tigers, the Twins are the AL CENTRAL CHAMPS!!!! WOO-HOO! Way to go, Twinkies! Wish I could be there, celebrating.

In Search of Authority

2006-09-28T04:16:00.001-05:00

Recently, I have been pondering just how influential certain media are when it comes to formulating our opinions, even knowledge, of various topics. Indeed, many people my age and younger tend to feel that they are "informed" about subject A because they've seen a movie (not documentary) about subject A. Case in point, and to illustrate my culpability along these lines: I would say that 90% of what I know about the Cuban Missile Crisis comes from my viewing of the film Thirteen Days (an excellent film, by the way).

Now, to a certain extent, I suppose this is grounded: filmmakers are often known to go out of their way to portray reality, especially when dealing with an historical topic. Remember, for instance, the testimonies of WWII veterans after the release of Saving Private Ryan? They said the portrayal of the landing at the beaches of Normandy was as realistic as anything they had seen put to celluloid.

What worries me, though, is that my, and subsequent, generations are being lulled into an attitude of regarding film as above reproach when it comes to information. "I saw a movie about it" becomes an acceptable answer in stating one's authority. Quite clearly, the danger of adopting this stance toward film is profound: we unquestionably accept the words (and more notably, for my generation: the images) of MGM, WB, the producers, the directors, etc. as revelatory, even as truth. Consider the stir caused by The Da Vinci Code, albeit more from the novel than from the movie. Isn't it frightening that the platforms of fiction writing and film producing...each being largely profit-driven enterprises...are not susceptible to more scrutiny?

On the other hand, our grand suspicion is exercised much more freely upon institutions that are allegedly designed to be committed to accuracy. Coming readily to mind, of course, is the Church. In addition to being a self-understood purveyor of truth, the Church also has the charge to be humble, and to admit freely its wrongdoings and error. Yet the unchurched of this generation has decidedly gone to regarding the Church with suspicion--at best--to all-out rejection.

So, what are we to say? Although a comprehensive solution is not easily crafted, it behoves us to utilize rightly some of the suspicion granted us by postmodernity, and to assess the influences behind the presentation (be it film, TV, newspapers, novels, Church, etc.): to read the message behind the message. But then, we must not believe we are then bound to reject all portrayals and reports as completely false and erroneous and not worthy of our trust. In so doing, we become a people paralyzed in trust, and trust untried is trust that becomes weak, and more readily susceptible to being led astray. Instead, let us exercise trust, faith, and hope extravagantly, using them as the gifts of God that they are. But let us do so wisely, understanding that in as much as our sources may be flawed, so are we.

My Country, 'Tis of Thee?

2006-07-19T13:53:00.000-05:00

As I was at home in Minnesota for the 4^th of July for the first time in many years, I took some time to reflect a bit on the role of patriotism from a Christian perspective. Thoughts continued to bubble and brew, but the 4^th became more and more distant and the communal swelling of patriotic pride—if any—that came with it seemed all but extinct around me.

Then, there surfaced an article in Christianity Today online by David P. Gushee called “What’s Right About Patriotism” (weblink: http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2006/007/4.48.html). It brought all the thoughts back, so I thought I’d try to succinctly write them down, partially in response to Mr. Gushee’s article.

My thoughts originated from posing the question to an imaginary discussion group, “What is patriotism?” and/or “What does it mean to be patriotic as an American?” and then contemplating possible answers. Some I thought of:

American patriotism means:

Supporting our troops/serving time in the military. Likely a popular answer, these days, and as equally controversial as popular. Current situations aside, this answer is, I would argue, unanimously refutable by imagining a situation in which “our troops” were—without exception—guilty of all manner of heinous war crimes and human rights violations. Would anyone argue that, in such a situation, it would still be more patriotic to “support” our troops rather than decry their wrongdoings?

Supporting the president/administration. Fair enough claim (for some). But again, what if the president/administration turned against the American people and the democratic process and sought to—for instance—establish a totalitarian regime? How could one argue that it would still be more patriotic to support such a president/administration?

Proudly displaying the American flag. I’m not sure if this would really be someone’s answer…but given the number of American flags within a five-mile radius of my current location, I’m guessing it would cross a lot of minds. But to return to our thought experiments, what if a certain woman embodied all of the other things we could mention that contribute to one’s patriotism, but did not—perhaps could not (e.g. she felt she couldn’t show the flag the proper respect by displaying it properly)—fly the flag. Would any rational person declare her unpatriotic?

Living the American dream. Get educated, work hard, live frugally, save, and (ostensibly) enjoy your retirement. Hmmm…there are lots of questions to this one: what about unequal opportunity? Discrimination? Selfish motivations? The equating of money and happiness? The general rejection of unforeseen and/or external circumstance? Would any of these—and many other—uncontrollable influences render one unpatriotic?

In dealing with other answers in a similar fashion, two things became clear:

Any individual criterion for American patriotism could be refuted through the basic execution of simple thought experiments, and
what dwelt beneath each of the criterion (to greater and lesser degrees) were a set of values.

Hence, I then turned my thoughts to these values—maybe obvious to many from the beginning. These values are sketched out over lauded American documents and speeches:

…all [people] are created equal…
…life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness…
…conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all [people] are created equal…
…the only thing we have to fear is fear itself…
…free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, we’re free at last…
…truth, justice, and the American way… (I had to throw Superman in…see my last blog entry below)

…and the like. So, perhaps to be patriotic means living by and upholding these values. Personally, I duly hope so.

However, the problem with looking no further for direction and affirmation of our “American” lifestyle than our own patriotism is that each of these values then takes on an inherently subjective element that can be twisted and shaped—both actively and passively—by one’s own experience, knowledge, intent, etc. Ultimately, there is no influential, authoritative standard to these values beyond what the general public (and/or the authoritarian structure) will affirm or oppose, and we all, I think, have realized the fluidity therein.

Where must we then go? I would argue we are driven back to God. From a Christian perspective, one of the wonders of God’s relational nature is that we interact neither with passive generalizations of virtue and values that are able to be subjectively manipulated nor with a hard-and-fast unhearing, unfeeling objective standard. Rather, we relate with a dynamic, relational God who both embodies and transcends these ethereal concepts of virtue and value and is ultimately responsible for revealing their true nature to us. What a shock to find that indeed justice and mercy discovered a cross-shaped intersection where both could not only coexist but intermingle!

So, finally, what does this say about our American patriotism? I am grateful that our nation—among many others—continues to call into play the godly values of freedom, justice, truth, etc., and to the extent that doing so makes one patriotic, I am happy to be called a patriot. Still, I vow to avoid the error of confusing my loyalties…my primary allegiance lies not with my country, not even with the values it purports to pursue and that, embodied, would make it great. My allegiance, my love, goes first to my King. The rest, as they say, is just details…the details of being remade in his image.

Superhero personality test

2006-04-18T15:19:00.000-05:00

Thanks to my friend Rich for the below.

Hmm...methinks this is a bit suspect...I suppose I agree with the sentence, but accepting the character reference seems a bit arrogant. Anyway, give it a shot, and see what you get! (Then leave your results in the "comment" section.)

Your results:
You are Superman

Superman		80%
Spider-Man		70%
Iron Man		55%
Robin		44%
Supergirl		42%
Green Lantern		40%
Hulk		40%
Wonder Woman		37%
The Flash		35%
Catwoman		30%
Batman		30%

You are mild-mannered, good,
strong and you love to help others.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

"God's Own Party" ?

2006-04-01T03:21:00.000-06:00

I'll let the below speak for itself.

No, no...I'll add the thought that I pray George Bush really does the will of God...and rejects this car magnet.

The Quintessential American Album?

2006-03-28T11:39:00.000-06:00

So, we're listening to music over dinner (nothing new)...and tonight, my lovely & lively wife has picked the Original Motion Picture Soundtrack to The Blues Brothers. Now, we're great fans of the movie, but this album is also fantastic!

Check out the tracks:

1. She Caught The Katy - Jake
2. Peter Gunn Theme - Jake
3. Gimme Some Lovin' - Jake
4. Shake A Tail Feather - Ray Charles/Jake & Elwood
5. Everybody Needs Somebody To Love - Jake & Elwood/Patty Austin/Vivian Cherry/Ullanda McCullough
6. The Old Landmark - James Brown/Rev. James Cleveland Choir
7. Think - Aretha Franklin/Brenda Corbet/Margaret Branch/Caroline Franklin
8. Theme From Rawhide - Elwood & Jake
9. Minnie The Moocher - Cab Calloway
10. Sweet Home Chicago - Elwood & Jake
11. Jailhouse Rock - Jake

Now, granted, many are remakes by Elwood & Jake...but look at the artists involved!

So, I'm gonna go out on a limb, and suggest that this album be considered for the title of the Quintessential American Album. My arguments:
1. Genres - largely blues and blues-based rock of course--born in America; but also Gospel ("The Old Landmark") and Country/Western (sort-of) ("Theme from Rawhide")...also American concepts.
2. Artists - Ray Charles??!?! James Brown?!??! Aretha Franklin??!?! Cab Calloway?!?!??! Forget the banner, this album is star-spangeled!
3. Familiarity - I would argue that this album would have at least one recognizable track to a vast majority of living Americans, especially both Caucasians and African Americans.
4. Appeal - I just can't listen to this album without moving! It stirs the soul!
5. Musicality - the performances are top-notch, and well beyond the simple I-IV-V-relative minor chord progression!
6. Film/Classic TV Association - I hesitate to mention this one...don't want to mix media...but there is something significant about the inclusion of two Classic TV themes ("Peter Gunn" and "Rawhide"). And the fact that the album contains the songs without which the movie would be extraordinarily lackluster means that the "soul" of the movie is the soundtrack!

Well, there's my 2 cents. Now, readers...over to you. What album would you suggest as the Quintessential American Album? Why? I'd love to hear from you! Please "Post a Comment" and let me know!

Questions and Answers: a Lenten Meditation for Reflectives

2006-03-01T06:32:00.000-06:00

Being a "postmodern" has granted a helpful (in my view) perspective on Questions and Answers. I have come to really value Questions. They are the fuel for reflection, indeed. I am reaching a stage in life where one of my favorite pastimes is to turn a meaningful question over and over in my head, looking at it from many different perspectives. Equally, though, I have lost some respect for Answers. That is, I have lost respect for simplistic Answers. Growing in the practice of my reflective nature has uncovered for me the understanding of how few Questions there are which are not, in some way, linked to our own worldview and experience. But of course, this is a basic human truth, is it not?

What postmodernity has failed to do for me is map out an acceptable interaction between Questions and Answers. You see, I am not of the mindset that wisdom lies only in the Questions (although there is much more there than I might have earlier thought!). Just as Answers which exist without Questions are not Answers at all (but rather arguments, propositional statements, claims, etc.), I would postulate that Questions are not meant to survive completely independently. Put simply, Questions and Answers exist symbiotically.

This is where my faith steps in. (And I should note it would be unreasonable for me to attribute all of my growing reflective nature to postmodernity...faith has, I believe, played some role there, too!) My gut-level sense is that Questions tend to live in two broad (and interactive) categories: pragmatic (What time is it? What's your name? When is the bus to arrive?) and philosophical. As for the latter, such Questions can become quite intricate and profound, and there is a whiff of wisdom in believing that their intricateness and profundity suggests not only that a simplistic answer does them (or more accurately, the asker) violence, but that any answer does. But my worldview won't support that, as following that track eventually leads me to a hopeless state of existentialism or nihilism. No, Christianity, once again holding competing truths together in tension, seems to me to suggest that both Questions and Answers can be simultaneously simple and profound.

In addition, our Western, fix-it world seems to be obsessed with the natural flow being from Question to Answer. (Or worse yet, from Answer to Answer, but that's another matter.) To me, the symbiotic relationship must necessarily flow from Answer to Question, as well.

And when I follow all of this progression in any line of thinking, I again and again find my Questions and Answers both beginning and ending with Jesus, and more specifically, with his cross. Jesus teaches me to ask the right Questions, to uncover, in my soul, what is really there--even (especially?) when I don't really know, myself. Jesus invites me to explore the depths of who he is, and find satiation for some of my Questions...before introducing the next Questions to be asked. He is the Answer. Yet he is not only the Answer, he is the Question. He is the Truth...and the Truth, I am finding, is Questions and Answers.

In the surety of my relationship with him, I freely release my surety of other philosophies and wisdom. In the Answer of him, I am freed to ask Questions of him. In the conviction of his death on my behalf, I am released from the expectation of conviction. In this way, I am reborn. In this way, I am remade.

How much would you sleep?

2006-02-17T06:31:00.000-06:00

So, I took a random poll around college the other day, and was surprised at the varying results. For anyone who'd like to respond (in the comments section), tell me:

If there were no limits in either direction (greater or fewer), and no physical restraints, how many hours per day (24 hrs.) would you sleep?
Why?

New word with which to impress your friends: Metonymy

2006-02-13T11:09:00.000-06:00

http://dictionary.reference.com/ defines it as:
me·ton·y·my
n. pl. me·ton·y·mies

A figure of speech in which one word or phrase is substituted for another with which it is closely associated, as in the use of Washington for the United States government or of the sword for military power.

So, I ran across this in my readings on Calvin and the Lord's Supper. I think there's something here. Calvin posits that the Scriptures frequently appeal to such types of speech. He gives, as an example, how the Holy Spirit appears at Jesus' baptism 'as a dove'. Somehow, it is beyond mere simile or even metaphor, but there is a substantive meaning and representation present.

In reading some of the Reformation historians, I get the sense that they are engulfed in a necessity to define everything. Everything must be explained, even if (especially if?) it is not directly addressed in Scripture. (Remind you of anyone? HINT: modern-day...starts with an 'e'...ends with a 'vangelicals'.)

I dare not suggest that I am directly representative of my culture, but I certainly have an easier time with mystery than some of the Reformers (and their contemporaries) did. In some cases, I find myself a bit puzzled by this need to systematically explain that which neither has nor demands a direct explanation.

This is not to sound unscholarly or anti-intellectual. Hopefully, it only expresses the acceptance of the limits of scholarship and intellect (ooo...how very postmodern of me!). Especially in grappling with theological matters, we may well need to employ the concepts of inference, non-propositional truth, poetic illustration, and yes, metonymy (dang, it's a hard word to type!). E.g., while I don't know if the disciples understood Jesus' words of institution at the first Eucharist, there may be a way that they understood it...and something tells me it had inherently more meaning than the words, themselves.

Then again, what are words? ...but that's for another post!

On Faith: Science, Experience, the Golden Calf and/or YHWH?

2006-02-10T08:53:00.000-06:00

To be human is to employ some degree of faith. Whether we have faith that the sun will rise tomorrow, that my heart won't stop beating in the next 30 seconds, or that my beloved still loves me, we all exhibit some sort of belief toward ends that are not 'certifiably' (scientifically?) proven (or provable).

Evangelicals, because of our propensity toward marking the instant of spiritual conversion, tend to regard an individual as not having any faith toward God until one professes (read: cognitively assents to) such faith. Unfortunately, this begs many questions. If to be human is to utilize faith, is it altogether inconceivable that some manner of faith toward God is at work even prior to such confession?

Put another way, is the 'unbeliever' who believes that the sun will rise tomorrow exhibiting faith based only upon scientific and experiential probability? Do not I, as a 'believer', maintain that my understanding--that God indeed sustains all things (including the rising of the sun)--is universally applicable to believer and unbeliever alike (ala Mt 5.45b)? In such a way, is it ever appropriate to say that the 'unbeliever' unknowingly is exhibiting faith in the Sustainer God?

The breakdown of this line of arguing, it occurs to me, is that though faith may be exhibited, the understood object of faith has inherent meaning. The ancient Israelites, when faithfully thanking the golden calf for bringing them out of Egypt, were sinning against YHWH, even when Aaron told them, 'These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of Egypt.' (Ex 32.4)

So, then, if we can agree that to be human is to practice faith, but the object(s) of our faith is crucial, is the Savior God the initiator of faith in that he creates faith from faithfulness, or would it be more appropriate to say that he re-directs the pre-existent faith of all to its proper place: himself, as revealed through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ?

I believe that the subtle distinction here has something to contribute to discussions of the nature of revelation through to evangelistic strategy.

Jesusdale Mall

2006-02-09T09:19:00.000-06:00

So, another megachurch is highlighted in my hometown of the Twin Cities. The article link (http://www.twincities.com/mld/pioneerpress/news/local/13808038.htm) will soon expire, but basically, the story is on the weekly attendance at a new, $24m local church building being 8,000. The article highlights (with intended negative responses, doubtlessly) that the church is waiting on its cup holders to arrive to install in chairs.

The evangelical church is so funny to me sometimes. We seem to spend oodles of time and money saying how different we are from the world, yet we tend to take the world's influences in all the wrong ways, then justify them because it's 'in the name of Jesus' (or, more appropriately, in the name of evangelism...but that's for another post). The article is jam-packed with references to all sorts of consumer-driven implementations in the church building: cup-holders, coffee shop, big-screen projection, etc.

When I first read the article, I was bit perplexed. I had been predicting that the age of the megachurch was on the wane...at least in the North Central US. I honestly believed that postmoderns (though very consumeristic) wouldn't ultimately stand for their spirituality to be so indistinguishable from their weekday lives. I really thought that the struggle with intimacy that oft plagues the megachurch would eventually erode it away in a culture that longs for belonging, especially tribal (small group) belonging.

But, this new church has proven me wrong. ...but it won't stop me from praying for such things to happen!