Category Archives: Taking a stab at something

Shrinking from grief

Am I wrong to suspect that grief, the genuine and loud experience and expression of total strickenness and sorrow, is almost totally unacceptable today, both in and outside the church?

And correspondingly, whether or not we reject “all violence” on Christian principles, I wonder if the violence irrupting from grief, from anguish is for us the most unspeakable and reproachable violence. Violence for the sake of security, justice, or retribution, or that eminently understandable violence, the violence of order and reasonable process, perhaps these we might understand but the violence that springs from: ” By the rivers of Babylon we sit down and weep . . . How blessed will be the the one who grabs your babies and smashes them on a rock!” — this violence, the irrational violence of mothers, daughters, of sons, fathers, and friends, we shrink back from in disgust, in visceral fear. And in this shrinking, do we not turn our back on any possibility of speaking truth? I think so.

Tactics for becoming a supercool theoblogger #1

I’m a staunch defender of blogging as a mode of theological discourse. However, to deny that there are some pathologies that its easy for us bloggers to fall into would be a tad irresponsible. To that end, I give you the first of hopefully several unveilings of theoblogging “strategies” that we sometimes fall prey to in an effort to win favor for our supercool ideas and projects.

One great one is to say, sort of as an aside in the course of talking about something, “I’m tempted to take a swipe at ______, but I will refrain.” This is one of those great ways to sneak in a backhanded “Oh snap!” moment in your campaign to express your theological cleverness. Not only do you get to take your jab, you get to valorize your magnanimous restraint at the same time! Too often we never stop to wonder, is saying that you are tempted to take a cheap shot at a theological idea and then stating that you are resisting said temptation, simply a convenient way of taking said cheap shot?  Might this not be a way of avoiding speaking critically in a way that would involve the kind of in-depth theological discussion that might betray one’s own ignorance and misunderstanding of that very idea?

I’m afraid this is often the case. But this tactic definitely helps up one’s theoblogging coolness quotient and allows  you to rest assured that all the people who already agreed with your perspective on the issue in question got a good chuckle out of your witticism.

Most Overrated Theological Books?

In a rare, in-person meeting of the minds this weekend in Nashville, Nate Kerr, R.O. Flyer, and myself solved a great many of the world’s theological problems. One, however, we still need your help on. At some point we took it upon ourselves to try to figure out the most overrated theological book of the 20th century. While we couldn’t get near to narrowing it down to one, we came up with some possibles. Here is our top ten (in chronological order):

  1. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Discipleship (1937)
  2. H. Richard Niebuhr, Christ and Culture (1951)
  3. Jürgen Moltman, Theology of Hope (1964)
  4. Karl Rahner, The Trinity (1967)
  5. Alasdair MacIntyre, After Virtue (1984)
  6. George Lindbeck, The Nature of Doctrine (1984)
  7. John Zizioulas, Being as Communion (1985)
  8. Sallie McFague, Models of God (1987)
  9. Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon, Resident Aliens (1989)
  10. John Milbank, Theology and Social Theory (1990)

It should be roundly emphasized that we are not saying that these books are not good and important. Indeed some of our absolutely favorite books are on this list. However, the question remains as to whether or not the attention and enthusiasm these books have received has been overblown. Please bear that in mind before unleashing your rage.

Now, over the next week we’ll be narrowing the list down to five, taking into account any comments you all have. Also, feel free to nominate some other books. The one that receives the most nominations will be added to the final vote as a wildcard. Enjoy the harrowing work of narrowing this list down with us.

Christianists?

Andrew Sullivan has become known for his use of the term “Christianist” to describe those who, claiming Christianity as their warrant, propagate and promote a distinctly conservative, quasi-theocratic political program. Thus it generally refers to the religious right, and other such conservative Christian groups and movements that seek, under the banner of their faith, to obtain and wield social and political power.

The rationale for the term is pretty straightforward. Basically Sully doesn’t want people of this political orientation to be perceived as the true or only representatives of Christianity. Just as many Muslims protest certian theocratic and radical political agendas being identified with “Islam” so Sully protests the Religious Right’s political agenda being identified with “Christianity.” Thus, just as it has become common to speak of “Islamism” as a particular political ideology which does not exhaust or define Islam as such, the argument is we should learn to speak of “Christianism” in a similar way.

Not all Muslims are Islamists. Likewise not all Christians are Christianists. The former terms name theological and doctrinal allegiances, while the latter speak of specific political agendas that dishonestly present themselves as pure iterations of the religion they adhere to.

I get all this, and it makes sense to me. My question though is if this is really a good idea, terminologically speaking, and what its really supposed to do. On one level, sure, I’d love an easy way for the world to understand, simply through terminology that I have nothing politically in common with the ideology of the Christian Right. But, is the coining of the term “Christianist” really worth the trouble? And doesn’t it smack of a sort of self-righteous distanciation?

“Well, I am a Christian, but so-and-so is a Christianist.” Does not this language do little more than absolve us Christians of our responsibility for those who propagate these ideologies? Aren’t we just distancing ourselves from them precisely for the purpose of making sure everyone knows that our hands are clean? Who does this language really serve? It seems to me that it only serves us, satiating our desire for no one to think that “we” are in any way connected to “them.”

I’m not saying I’ve totally made up my mind. Maybe it will prove to be a useful term. But for the moment I find it hard to find anything really helpful about it unless I’m in a mood to feel innocent, at a safe distance from the actions taken by the Christian Right. At worst, one could argue that this language is an attempt to dodge some very real repentance that we may need to undergo. If we’re the Christians and they’re the Christianists, we don’t need to repent and seek to redress the wrongs being done, we can just be content to lob rhetorical volleys of well-crafted descriptors.

What do you think?

An ecclesial gloss on Isaiah 1:10-17

Hear the word of the Lord,
you rulers of Rome and Constantinople!
Listen to the teaching of our God,
you people of Grand Rapids and Wheaton!
What do I care about the multitude of your Eucharists?
says the Lord;
I have had enough of your broken bread
and piously drunk wine;
I do not delight in your baptisms,
of children, or of adults.
When you come to worship before me,
who asked you to do this?
Stop making the gathering of my people a sham;
bringing eloquent homilies is futile; expository preaching is an abomination to me.
Your Sunday mornings and and your liturgical calendars—
I cannot endure your ecclesial practices when there is idolatry.
Your Christian year and your holy feast days
my soul hates;
they have become a burden to me,
I am weary of bearing them.

When you stretch out your hands, I will hide my eyes from you;
even though you make many prayers,
I will not listen; your hands are full of blood.
Repent! Change how your are living;
get your idolatry out of my sight;
cease to do evil,
learn to do good;
seek justice,
rescue the oppressed,
defend the orphan,
plead for the widow.

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