Monthly Archives: January 2010 - Page 3

The Real Resolutions

Sure, I have some grand scale ridiculous desires about stuff to accomplish this year. Like reading the Bible a few times and finishing this gargantuan and barely begun project from last year (yeah, now you know). But I dare not call such things real resolutions. Here are some of the things I have actually resolved to do this year:

  • Be in Munich for Oktoberfest.
  • Read a book on the history of pirates.
  • Spit-roast an entire pig this summer.
  • Re-read at least two books that deserve it.
  • Hit at least two Roger Clyne shows this year.
  • Listen to more music.

If I do all of these things this year I’ll be pretty happy.

Eugene McCarraher at TOJ

Chris at The Other Journal has recently posted part 1 of a three-part interview with Eugene McCarraher that is definitely worth the read. So far there’s been some fascinating commentary on things ranging from evaluating the aughts to the presidency of Barack Obama and the Tiger Woods scandal.

Here’s just one quote, on conservative Christianity in the 2000s:

The 2000s was, sadly, the heyday of faith-based everything: faith-based wars (Iraq), faith-based science (“intelligent design” and global-warming denial), faith-based economics (the financial and housing bubbles, the extraordinary trust placed in a gnomic mediocrity like Alan Greenspan). And let’s be honest here: conservative Christianity, Protestant and Catholic, remains one of the leading service providers of credulity. You just can’t escape the fact that conservative religious culture leavened almost every instance of faith-based bunkum that characterized the last decade. Anyone who studies the events leading up to the invasion of Iraq knows that one of the reasons George W. Bush went to war was his belief—encouraged by neoconservatives who don’t give a damn about Christian or any other faith—that God wanted him to be some righteous warrior. Churches and synagogues around the nation sounded their tocsins for war, but the invasion received the most enthusiastic benedictions from conservative churches, all resounding with hosannahs and praise for God’s President. Even churches like the one I attend, which isn’t especially conservative, started draping the Stars and Stripes from their choir balconies. When I objected strongly to this, I was told that parishioners were demanding it. Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson drooled with anticipation at the prospect of vengeance and assassination; John Hagee, Rod Parsley, and others reveled in blood-soaked eschatological visions; the Left Behind books sold millions of copies, filling the minds of readers with hateful, sanguinary orgasms of violence; theo-con journals like First Things, the religion supplement for the Wall Street Journal, ran articles about America’s providential mission in the world. Add to that the cavalier hostility to science that now makes a cretin like James Inhofe into a major player on climate policy. Very large swaths of American Christianity now compose a potent culture of resentment, bigotry, and militarism. Where, oh where, is H. L. Mencken when you need him? You can’t even begin to understand someone like Bush—or Sarah Palin, the true heir to this maelstrom of nuttery—without attending to this stew.

I must be confused, Absinthe

There’s much to learn about these days:

  • Peter Leithart teaches us about a truly biblical epistemology. I’m all for it.
  • Church and Pomo is hold a symposium soon on Graham Ward’s new book The Politics of Discipleship.
  • James Merrick has a probing post about theological and historical interpretation of Scripture. And a plea for help. So go help him out.
  • Also an interesting quote from T.F. Torrance about mission that, I think, doesn’t get the matter of universality and catholicity quite right.
  • Also it looks like John Milbank may be running around the blogosphere under the pseudonym Alasdair Maclagan. Hmm.
  • The National Association of Evangelicals have come out with a survey of their leaders about the greatest moral issues facing America with, shall we say, predictable results. The Slavtivist has a great send-up of the whole matter.
  • An amusing obituary for the emerging church. Doesn’t something have to have been an actual living thing in order for it to die, though?
  • Debra Dean Murphy also has some comments on James Cameron’s failure of imagination in Avatar.
  • And finally, you can catch me doing a bit of sermonizing at the EP blog this weekend. I found a way to sneak in another Will Campbell quote. Here it is:

Yes, we know something they do not know. We know that God so loved the world, with all its people, their sins and problems, that he became like one of us and dwelt among us and died that we might all be one people—his people. We know that God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself and breaking down all barriers and walls of hostility which separate us from one another and from him. We know that God, in establishing the Church, has enlisted us to proclaim that message of reconciliation. We know that we are called not to build a kingdom, but to bid men to enter one already established, here and now, in which race is as irrelevant a category as redhead, baldhead, fat man, lean man. We also know that Jesus fed the hungry and healed the sick and bade his followers do the same.

That is what we know, and that is the evangelical message we must now proclaim to both revolutionary and defender of the status quo. And to those who say we have not earned the right to preach to the revolutionaries, we can only say “God, in Christ, has earned it for us.”

The Only Word We Have

Here’s some more Will Campbell for you all. He continues to impress me the more I read him:

Katallagete! “Be reconciled,” since we are all already reconciled in Christ’s “purpose in dying for all.” This is the only word the Christian brings to the broken relationships between and among men. Because the source of reconciliation, the Word made flesh, “came to dwell among us,” we have no doubt about where the service of reconciliation ought to lead: not into the falsely secure world of a Christendom which denies the work of the Lord by its defensiveness and isolation, but into the genuinely insecure world of politics, wars, poverty, hunger, violence and insurrection — that is, the world into which Christ came and lived, by which he was murdered, and for which he was raised to life.

Will Campbell and James Holloway, Up To Our Steeples in Politics (New York: Paulist, 1970. Reprint: Wipf and Stock, 2004), 12-13.

Powers and Practices §2: Philip Stolzfus

The second chapter of Powers and Practices is a far cry, in terms of quality, from the first, and hopefully all the following essays. It is entitled “Nonviolent Jesus, Nonviolent God?” and it attempts to critique Yoder for allegedly not going far enough in purging his “concept of God” of violent images, such as those contained in the Exodus narrative.

In the last few pages of the chapter the author makes clear what’s really at work in his critique of Yoder. Stolzfus is really just advocating for a certain sort of well-worn of Mennonite theology that parrots Gordon Kaufman and Sallie MacFauge  by simply discounting all elements of the Bible’s depiction of God that are deemed insufficiently nonviolent. For Stolzfus this means that, in contrast to Yoder who reneged on the task, we need to get down to the real business of “theological construction” (p. 40), that is by articulating a properly systematized and pristinely nonviolent conceptuality of God.

Stolzfus’s chapter amounts to little more than a fit of whining about the fact that Yoder didn’t do theology that way. It also makes clear how deeply Stolzfus really doesn’t understand the nature of Yoder’s project. Ironically, Stolzfus, in his rabbid concern to purge all “violent” conceptions of God from theology in advance, winds up advocating some mode of theological thinking that is, from the outset, totalizing and violent in itself. Stoltzfus has no patience for Yoder’s “dialogical stance” (p. 38)  because it fails to secure, in advance, the concept of God that Stolzfus, as a liberal Mennonite is willing to accept.

But this is precisely where Yoder is, in fact the true “pacifist” while Stolzfus by contrast is utterly, well, violent. He cannot take the risk of letting the reality of God come to him from somewhere other than his own predetermined image thereof. God must be only and always this. Therefore any thought along these lines is excluded. The sort of “nonviolence” that Stolzfus wants to hardwire in advance into our conception of God is hardly the peace of Jesus. It requires the presence of “violent” images of God, against which it must be counterposed to have any purchase. The “nonviolent” God that Stolzfus argues for is defined, agonistically, by what it is against. This “nonviolent” God requires violence and is systematically rendered within a binary (violent) mode of theological reflection that is at once simplistic and lackadaisical.

This is not to say that the images of divine violence in the Bible are not real problems. They are. But it is Stolzfus who fails to deal with the problem, not Yoder. Yoder, in keeping with his commitment to vulnerable engagement with the biblical witness, takes time and patience to actually struggle with the text, rather than deciding in advance what simply must be stripped away because of his own predetermined theological sensibilities.

I’m all for reading solid critiques of Yoder, but a lazy half-baked Marcionism like the kind offered here doesn’t impress me at all. I hope the next chapter is better than this.

Vote on the Bible

Well, not really. But, I am wanting your opinion on what books from Old and New Testament you’d like to see me blog through (something I’m trying to do this year). I’ve narrowed it down to a few for you to choose from. Feel free to bemoan the books left out in the comments if you wish.

UPDATE:

And the winners are: Isaiah and Hebrews. Thanks for voting.

Freeing Criminals

Will Campbell is about as subversive as they come as far as I’m concerned. This was a fellow who really encountered, believed, and lived the apocalyptic gospel of Jesus in his own contingent circumstances. I’ll write more about him this year and his role in the civil rights movement but for now here is a quote from an article of his on Isaiah 61/Luke 4:16-30, “Good News to Prisoners”:

Jesus’ news is specific, immediate, indifferent to moral codes. It is an event as close to us as brothers, children, neighbors, bedrooms and bars, and the poor and black who stand as judgment on our citizenship and our confessions about Jesus as Lord. Criminals are proclaimed free by God’s deed in Jesus, and that, literally: “Today in your very hearing this text has come true.” It is difficult to be more specific than that. We do not believe that Jesus was speaking of enlightened chaplains who, using the latest techniques of pastoral counseling, lead the prisoners into an adjustment—into a life of great books, celibacy, good behavior points. Nor was He talking of the chaplains who through the art of preaching win a soul here and there to a decision which says, “I am free wherever I am, for ‘if God be for us who can be against us?’” What Jesus is talking about is unlocking the doors, dismissing the warden and his staff, recycling the steel bars into plowshares, and turning the prisoners loose. But let us be clear at all points. This means James Earl Ray as well as Angela Davis; William Calley as well as Phil and Dan Berrigan.

Well. Of course Jesus’ neighbors in the congregation at Nazareth were dismayed and angry: “Today in your very hearing this text has come true.” The one thing society cannot do is free the prisoners. Society can only make prisoners, and rehabilitate, adjust and then parole them . . . to itself. Society cannot free the prisoners. Thus does Jesus’ word from God undermine the claims of absolutism lurking in all political orders—whether religious (Israel) or secular (Rome). All any political order can do is to rest its legitimacy and make its distinctions between criminals and free men on the basis of power deals and arrangements. It is never good news to say to those who stake their lives on the political order and its distinctions that God frees the prisoners. Now, and here, not there and later, God announces freedom to prisoners. Literally, not symbolically. That is how God in Jesus overcomes society. No guns. No plastic bombs or napalm or anti-personnel missiles. No conspiracy that will have to be tried in a court of law. In Jesus God is freedom to the prisoners. Society is overcome. Not destroyed. Overcome.

In his time Jesus had to go. God was made a prisoner and executed. To good religious people, as a religious fanatic; to good citizens, and a political “king.” But in any case, he had to go. Society’s law in both religious and political dimensions makes Jesus a prisoner and executes him in the company of other criminals. And as a wise man reminds us, there, at Jesus’ crucifixion at the place called The Skull, there “was the first Christian fellowship, the first certain, indissoluble and indestructible Christian community . . . directly and unambiguously affected by Jesus’ promise and his assurance . . . to live by this promise is to be a Christian community.” Thus, in their time John the Baptist was a criminal, a prisoner, and executed so; thus, Paul, Peter, and others in the earliest communities who confessed Jesus as Lord; thus the prophets through whom God had spoken his words of reconciliation “to our fathers of old.” Prison and the threat of prison were the necessary part of the life of Jeremiah, Amos, Isaiah, Micaiah, Joseph, Samson. . . . The news that God proclaims freedom to the prisoners is the word that overcomes society and politics. It is the word and deed of freedom which overcomes the words and deeds of inhumanity. Society and politics can only answer by crucifixion, as God answers crucifixion by freedom, liberation, resurrection.

– In Writings on Resistance and Reconciliation, edited by Richard Goode (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2010), 20-22.

Powers and Practices §1: Chris Huebner

One of my new aims this year is to blog more consistently about what I’m reading. One way I’m going to do that is by doing more chapter by chapter reviews/notes on books. I’m hoping to do one of these most weekdays. To kick it off, I’m starting with Powers and Practices: Engaging the Work of John Howard Yoder, edited by Jeremy M. Bergen and Anthony G. Siegrist (Thanks to Herald Press for the review copy). Hope it’s helpful.

This book is one of a couple recent projects that is not merely doing work on Yoder, but thinking with Yoder in conversation with multiple other — and highly diverse — thinkers and ideas. Powers and Practices is a welcome collection of essays contributing to important theological work that takes Yoder seriously — something I am very much on board with.

The first chapter in the book is by Chris Huebner, entitled “The Work of Inheritance: Reflections on Receiving John Howard Yoder.” This essay is a very helpful and readable introduction to Yoder’s mode of theological reflection, and specifically his understanding of “inheritance,” that is of faithfulness to “tradition” or “history.” Huebner notes that “Throughout his meandering engagements and conversations, we constantly find Yoder striving to articulate a posture with respect to history that does not reflect a possessive will to somehow manage and control it” (p. 20). According to Huebner:

[Yoder's] work is everywhere laced with notions of memory and hope, of historical discernment and openness to the surprises of the new. But these themes are not to be understood in a manner that suggests a simple or straightforward activity of repetition, of narrowly factual accuracy, or of what we might describe as archival sensibilities. Neither do they present a vision of hope that consists in the desire to realize some given end, as if the future somehow rests squarely on our shoulders. They reflect neither a primitivist or preservationist reification of the past, not a progressive construal of hope as a future goal to be achieved. Rather, we find in Yoder a vision of inheritance that is interruptive and radically transforms those who are in a position to receive it. Indeed, echoing Barth, he emphasizes that it is not so much we who remember, but rather that we are made a part of God’s memory, and in being so remembered have our very we-ness redefined. At the very least, the question of receiving an inheritance is, for Yoder, fare from straightforward. Inheritance names a kind of work, a life’s work of ongoing transformation in which the very identity of the one said to be doing the receiving is somehow part of whats at stake. (p. 21)

This is crucial to understanding what it means to appropriate tradition and history in the task of theology. For Yoder “inheriting a tradition is thus crucially not uni-directional. It does not consist in a linear gaze backward to the past, nor does it give rise to a clear and unambiguous path looking forward. Rather it involves a constant ‘looping back’ to the origins in light of unpredictable, often surprising encounters with other dialogue partners” (p. 23).

In conversation with Wittgenstein, Romand Coles, and Rowan Williams, Huebner hints at what this notion of “the work of inheritance” means both for theological approaches to tradition and history, and more specifically, for our own approach to the work of Yoder. What this involves then is not an attempt to systematize Yoder or get him “right.” Rather we ought to engage in the ongoing and open work of “looping back” to Yoder and inheriting his ad hoc and diasporic mode of theology in conversation with others. And as Huenber notes, this is a more fruitful and faithful way of engaging Yoder’s work, indeed the conversations into which we can bring Yoder often tend to be “more fruitful that some of Yoder’s own encounters with those same figures” (p. 25). This, importantly gives us a way to be both “for and against” Yoder as with think with him in vulnerable receptivity to other, often unexpected dialogue partners.

Barkeep another Mekong please

Plenty of good, interesting, and nutty stuff around the old blogosphere these days:

  • Melissa inquires about the virtues and/or vices of book collecting, and apparently my own proclivities are a case in point.
  • Two utterly different sets of predictions for 2010.  Proof positive that people’s predictions merely express their deepest wishes, never their smartest thoughts? Probably.
  • The ballad of Rick Warren and the 900-foot Jesus.
  • As if it needed to be said, there’s 6 reasons out there why your church needs more beer.
  • A review of George Lindbeck’s classic book, The Nature of Doctrine.
  • Why Christmas is not Jesus’s birthday.

Now Taking Requests

In some recent comments it has come to light that some of you might have specific requests about what/who you’d like me to write on in the coming year. So, consider it open season. Any specific hopes for this year’s posts and focus? I certainly can’t promise anything, but I’d love to hear any thoughts.

If there’s any top contenders I’ll make a poll that you all can vote on.

Posts and Projections

In taking stock of my past posts, I thought I’d chart my progress as far as productivity goes, so here are the numbers:

  • 2006: 58 (June-December only)
  • 2007: 269
  • 2008: 387
  • 2009: 500

On average this equals a rough increase of 100+ posts per year (accounting for 2006 only being half a year). Seems like pretty good progress to me. We’ll see if we can improve on that in 2010.

Taking Stock and Making Plans

Every new year seems to provide the occasion for taking stock and charting future blogging hopes and dreams. This last year saw my most productive blogging month ever (March 2009=112 posts). Though on the whole I was disappointed by the last year of blogging. Not nearly as much work on Karl Barth and theological interpretation as I had hoped for. I think I also spent too much time on cultural and political commentary than I would like. However the high points of the blogging year involved more study on mission, Christology, and Paul.

For this coming year I am hoping to refocus this blog on the distinctly theological. Topics I want to read and write on this year are the usual suspects you’ve all grown to love or love to hate: Barth, Yoder, ecclesiology, mission, apocalyptic, and Pauline and Johannine theology. I’m also planning to leave aside — at least on this blog — cultural and political critique/commentary. Stuff along these lines that catches my interest will now be flagged elsewhere.

Some new stuff I’m hoping to write on this year includes Will Campbell, J. Louis Martyn, and Paul Minear. Here’s hoping for a good year.

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