Chautauqua Day 7 - the final day

I know the weeping will begin with all my two readers (myself included....thanks Mom) to know that this will be the final Chautauqua post. It has been a good and fruitful week with an acceptable amount of productivity and relaxation. All ranting aside, this is a good place to go and think and I recommend if, if you can afford it. My kids won't be going to college because of the week I spent here, but I think the sacrifice was worth it.
I heard two good lectures yesterday. The first was from Michael Gerson, sr. fellow for the Council on Foreign Relations and former speechwriter and advisor to "still" President George W. Bush. I have to admit, just as I approached Richard Land, I approached Gerson (as I think many did here at Chautauqua. Yet Gerson is a speechwriter and knew again how to speak to his audience and how to craft the English language well. I enjoy a good speech, and regardless of the content this was a good speech.
Gerson spoke about the "emerging center," specifically the emergence of a social consciousness among evangelicals. He spoke of a new generation of evangelicals who were still morally conservative but who were concerned for the poor, destitute, etc. This is good, I guess, yet were is the space for the "liberals" in this emerging center. Liberals are known for their social consciousness but not for conservative morals (or any morals at that matter). Yet the idea of an emerging center would suggest that it would not just be evangelicals moving to the left, but that liberal Christians would be moving to the right. Think about it for a moment. What would liberals have to do to be a part of this emerging center. Personally, one thing I am trying to do is reclaim my evangelical roots. As a Baptist, such an argument is not difficult to make - we have an evangelical heritage, theologically speaking, and it is worth claiming. Yet that is not enough. I think we on the left should look at our values and morals and make claims. One attack on liberals is that we tend to walk in a swamp of moral relativity. I would tend to agree. Liberalism has been mired with a bad mix of individualism, situational ethics, and a lack of doctrine. This makes for a sour tasting theology. I do think there are some things we should claim - poverty is wrong, war is wrong, economic inequality is wrong, etc. Yet I would also claim that excessive drinking is wrong, sexual misconduct or a dangerous sexual lifestyle is wrong, indifference is wrong, etc.... If you are breaking relationship with God and with others than it is wrong. Love is a relational concept, not just a social concept. Would the said Liberals of Christianity be willing to consider personal moral boundaries as well as the social boundaries we have so well claimed to join this emerging center? I am not suggesting liberal morals be exactly the same as the evangelicals - there are certain doctrinal issues held by evangelicals that I cannot advocate, but we still need to consider our values and morals. Something to think about. I would like to say some things about his clear conservative leanings, and some of the issues I had, but.... I'm lazy and don't want to write that much.
The other lecture I heard was from the writer in residence and a good friend of mine, Ron MacLean. His lecture was called, "Risk Everything," and it was good. While Ron was speaking about writing, the role of literature in the 21st century and the purpose it serves (or lack thereof), most of what he said could be applied to pastors and sermons. Writing should take risks, make people uncomfortable, stir them and wake them up. So should sermons. As writing continues to evolve and develop, it should be done with excellence. So should sermons. Writing should be visionary, so should sermons. Writing should be an act of nonconformity. So should sermons. And on and on. It was refreshing to hear a lecture not about faith and politics and one that was challenging and inspiring when considering the craft that is so much a part of my profession. Basically, pastors, writers, artists, musicians, visionaries, should grow a set of balls and take risks. It is interesting that I can find a number of instances in scripture where prophets in the Hebrew Scriptures and followers of Christ in the gospels are warned about the difficult life ahead of them and the risks they will have to take. Yet it takes a writer to remind this pastor about the risks he is called to take. Some would say that God was speaking through Ron. Others would say that Ron just gave a damn good speech.

Chautauqua Day 6 - boring dialogue

I have to be honest, I did not attend as many lectures this day. Partly I wanted to give more time to my dissertation (almost done with my chapter 2 rewrite!) and partly I was getting tired of what seemed to be the same lecture given in different ways again and again. It was like the week after Thanksgiving - you can only do so much with turkey, and eventually it gets boring. The bulk of the content yesterday was on Muslim, Jewish and Christian relations. This is something I'm all for, but the presentations are just getting pat and boring. Yes, we need to engage in dialogue. Yes we all have somethings that we can all agree upon. Yes, we are all descendants of Abraham. Love is important. Yawn.

Wouldn't it be interesting instead of talking about what makes us all the same to look at what makes us different. Not just the surface things (Jesus vs. Mohamed) but the deeper values we hold to, the expectations that we ascribe to and the assumptions that we may have about life. For example, do Muslims ascribe to the something similar to the Protestant Work Ethic (thanks, Weber!), specifically one's understanding of grace and providence, or is their a different understanding of work? What is the purpose of the church in the community? What is the role of the family? What about sin, or whatever word you might have for that. I think it would be fun to try to really find those places where people really differ and look at the differences closely.

Some may say that such an approach would only widen the gap between Christians, Muslims and Jew, but I would not be so quick to agree. I don't think we are trying to create one super-religion combined of all three (a religious Voltron of sorts), but are trying to increase the level of understanding. I think if we have a greater understanding and respect for the differences then we have much more to work with. So long live the differences.

Just a plug, J.A. DiNoia writes about religious dialogue in his work, The Diversity of Religions: A Christian Perspective. It has been a while since I have read it, but I believe he advocates dialogue starting with salvation, i.e. what does it mean to be saved. He stresses we should consider the differences and then continue the comparison from there. One's life, DiNoia states, is fueled by one's understanding of salvation.

Chautauqua Day 5 - Know Thy Audience

Richard Land Spoke. The Rev. Dr. Richard Land is the president of the Southern Baptist Convention's Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission, so I am sure you can imagine that the good Reverend was not in a welcome environment. The folks at Chautauqua for the most part lean to the left and the folks in the SBC for the most part lean to the right (actually they tend to be far right, having chased out any who may only be moderately right). I was very interested to hear what Land would have to say on the issue of faith and politics to this leftist crowd. To his credit, Land spoke well. He clearly knew his audience and knew how to speak to his audience. He claimed to be very much against clergy endorsing candidates, he was against denominations supporting one party, and claimed that America was not a Christian nation, but one with a public religion. All good things to say, yet the SBC, as a denomination has all but endorsed candidates, seems to be very pro-republican, and if not in words than through actions seems to be all for a Christian America. Rev. Land clearly has some baggage that he was carrying, but he knew his audience and spoke to his audience. The term that he coined was, "principled pluralism," which seems similar to Saperstein's claims yesterday. There is an arena where pluralistic discourse exists and where the good values of the different religions rise for the sake of all humanity. A pluralism that cares for the poor, the marginalized, etc.... Sounds good, especially to this audience.
The other speaker for the day was R. Gustav Niebuhr, the director of the Religion and Society program as Syracuse University. Niebuhr spoke about tolerance as something we should not advocate over liberty, because tolerance has a condensing nature treating the tolerated groups as less then the one tolerating. This is not new, but something we need to remember. Even in this land where we claim all are free, tolerance is still rampart. For example, I tolerated Rev. Land's speech. What if I were to let go of my assumptions that I am right, that I am superior to him because of the crowd he travels with and really listen? What would I learn then? What would the dialogue be like? Would Land have had to so soften his speech? In the end, tolerance ruled the day, Land knew it, and knew his audience. He left the hollowed grounds of Chautauqua unscathed.

Chautauqua Day 4 - The Source of our Rage

Yesterday, Rabbi David Saperstein, the director of the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism spoke about the way in which one's faith informs one's values. He was specifically speaking about those values which effect one's interaction with the public discourse. As a Jew, he claimed that specific values emanate from his faith and inform his actions. He used the Catholics as another example - their faith and understanding of theology informed their interaction and intervention into public discourse. It think the distinction that Saperstein is making is important. One is not trying to impose one's set of values upon the public discourse (i.e. public life/politics), instead one is using one's set of values to inform the way one is a part of that discourse. There is a level to which one will try to bend the moral standings of the polis, but bending and influencing is different from imposing. His big point was that the covenant of Sinai, a covenant to which Jews tend to align with is a covenant between the Jews and God, not the world and God. Thus it is improper to impose the agreement of such a covenant upon the greater population.
This made me think on two points. 1) what are the values of my faith which inform my actions in the public? I think this is an important question because it is easy to allow someone, or a group to tell you what your values are supposed to be. It is easy to be sucked into a "Christendom" mentality assuming that might and empire are a part of the Christian values we are all to ascribe to. I believe such a question needs to be done in prayer, in community, and ultimately through the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
2) What aspects of Christianity are specifically for Christians? Or in other words, what separates me from the world because of my faith? What should I not assume the rest of the world will ascribe to?
These are good questions that I think we all should consider before walking into the public discourse, armed with our faith. Instead we should be guided by our faith.

afterthought: Saperstein suggested that all religions will agree with common moral values uniting all people. I wonder if we can accept such an assumption.

Chautauqua Day 3 - Apparently Religious Liberity is Important

Today was the first "real" day of Chautauqua in that there was a morning lecture and an afternoon lecture. Saturday and Sunday don't count as much for content - just fluff to ease us all into the Chautauqua experience. It would neat to have a Chautauqua boot camp where we have to do push ups every time a speaker says, "ummm...." or every time the current Administration is criticized (if the criticism draws applause then we have to clap between each push up). So Monday we had morning worship, and another speech by the Bishop of D.C. I am no longer expecting a sermon and hope my soul will still be ok. Then we heard from John Meacham, editor at Newsweek, who spoke at length about the importance of religious liberty and made it very clear that the United States is not a "Christian nation." C. Welton Gaddy, president of the Interfaith Alliance also spoke with much passion about the importance of the no-establishment clause in the Constitution urging us all to hold closely and dearly to such a freedom that we all enjoy.
I get it, I really do. I get that we need to be aware of the importance of religious liberty in the United States. I have even blogged about this very idea. I agree with the speakers, with the content (for the most part - as a pretentious doctoral student I could never fully agree with someone on anything), and with the importance for our own vigilance with this issue. Yet I left the speakers yawning (metaphorically) because if was nothing new. There was, for me, very little that made me stop and think, little that challenged me and provoked me to a new plane of understanding. I imagine this is the same for the majority of the folks here at Chautauqua. This is not a crowd that questions the necessity and the importance of the establishment clause, so could we go a little deeper, please? Maybe talk about the theological complexities one faces when on the one hand most religions has a call for evangelizing and on the other hand we strive to make room for other religions to exist. What do we do with that. What about the times when religious liberty hurts - like when a child is refused a blood transfusion because of religious beliefs. Or what about people who refuse to fight in a war because of religious reasons and are persecuted by our government for such reasons (see the peace movement of WWI and WWII)? Religious liberty is important, I get it, but it is not a simple, easy stand to support. Lets roll up our sleeves and get into the nitty gritty of Religious Liberty. Maybe then I wouldn't yawn. Maybe I just need to get more sleep.

I ended the day by watching La Traviata; enjoying my freedom to attend an opera in shorts and a ratty shirt. I think I even heard someone mutter, "I may not agree with the way you are dressed, but I will defend to the death your right to wear those clothes." What a lovely, tolerant place.

Chautauqua Day 2 - Of Sermons and Speeches

Day 2 was a slow, acclimating kind of day. It started with good ole' Baptist worship at the Baptist house. There is something about Baptists and music - when they sing the walls shake. While the preaching was not stellar, it was solid enough and I enjoy worshiping with my folks. Then Chautauqua has its big Sunday worship. It is a service full of pomp, ritual and not much theological focus. The liturgy is nice enough and far from offensive. Sometimes I feel that when we try so hard not to offend anyone we end up not offering anything of substance. That was kind of what the service was like - a bowl of oatmeal. No spice and no flavor, but it wont hurt you. The music is great, polished, well rehearsed, but great. My biggest issue was with the sermon. The Right Rev. John Bryson Chane, Bishop of Washington D.C. was "preaching." He used a gospel text, but he really didn't speak from it. Instead he spoke about the importance of the separation of church and state, the necessary of the church having a voice in the polis and how we need to make sure the separation is ensured and churches continue to have a voice. For the most part I agree with his sentiment and ideas, but I was hoping for a sermon, not a speech. What Chane offered was a speech about religious liberty with a little flourish with scripture at the end. I would hope a sermon would be wrapped with the text, weaving the congregation in and out of the text until the text becomes our story. One could preach about separation of church and state, but in a worship setting (as much as that was a worship setting) is not a place for a speech or a soapbox. When we preach our concerns, our agenda and our ideals we are no longer allowing God to lead us, instead it is as if we are just telling God what to do, where to be and when.
Chane is going to be preaching all week, so maybe I'll still hear a sermon... maybe.

afterthought: There is a lot of emphasis on interfaith stuff this week, of which I am skeptical - not because I am a close minded ass, but because I wonder how deep can one go theologically when one is trying not to offend everyone. I wonder if the interfaith conversations will end us with us all holding a bowl of oatmeal

Chautauqua - Day 1.... Garbage and Road Rage

I'm going to try to chronicle my experiences at Chautauqua this week - the lectures and the studying that I accomplish (or don't accomplish). Today I arrived at the lovely hour of 10:30pm - long story, I'll just share the high-lights. I had to pick up my Chautauqua partner, Pastor Doug, at Binghamton NY and arrived at 5:00pm. Apparently everything closes between 3:00 and 5:00 on Binghamton on a Saturday, and I was left wandering around for two hours with nothing to do. That was not good, but it got better. Having finally left Binghamton, two hours later than we hoped we started making good time, just kinda breaking the speed limit.
We were cruising, not causing trouble, when another car, which had been behind us pulled in front of us, and defenestrated their garbage towards our car. I was a little shocked, and then confused when an arm stretched out the window and planted a certain hand sign towards our direction. This occurred for about a minuet, and we were speechless - expect for the "What the ----" that we kept saying. About a mile later, the car began to slow down to exit and while we left we saw the passenger, the garbage thrower and hand waver leaning over the driver showing us the same middle sign with a great amount of energy and passion. I don't believe I did anything to provoke him, but something must have happened. It was indeed interesting.
With all of that said, we are here now, trying to settle in and getting ready for the Chautauqua experience. Hopefully it will not involve any garbage throwing or finger waving.

What Does it Mean?

I am not an anthropologist, nor do I aspire to be one. So when I even mention the name, “Geertz” remember that I really know very little of what I am talking about. I’m outside of my element just as an anthropologist would be if talking about Lindbeck or Barth. Yet I have finished Geertz’s The Interpretation of Cultures, and The Fate of “Culture”: Geertz and Beyond (essays in response to Geertz and continuing the work of Geertz) and feel like I should say something.
I understand that Geertz is trying to say something, to push a certain approach of anthropology. It was not until I read the last essay in The Fate of Culture that I started to get what it is that makes Geertz so different. In this essay, “Thick Resistance: Death and the Cultural Construction of Agency in Himalayan Mountaineering,” Sherry Ortner discusses Geertz’ aversion to positivist functionalism in cultural analysis and prefers to look to meaning in cultures rather than function. Thus Geertz does not so much ask what the function of an individual is in a culture, but what the underlying meaning may be for that culture. Geertz offers a fun and fantastic description of the Balinese Cockfight and rather than looking for the function of such an event in Bali he looks at the symbolic meaning found within that event for the participants, onlookers, etc.
I have been thinking about this with my own work. I am concerned with the understanding of ordination in the Baptist context. I could look at the function of the minister in the local church. I could use that as the focus and claim that ordination labels one’s function within a community. Or I could look at the meaning of ordination, the meaning the minister points to via presence and relationality. I am leaning towards the later. It is not so much function as it is presence that holds significant depth. I believe that the minister represents something, sometimes despite the minister himself. If one were to hold to such an approach, then ministry becomes much less about doing and more about being. It is not a ministry of function then a ministry of presence. Granted, one does do things, but that is not the essence of ordination. One could say this goes for all Christians. When one becomes a Christian, one should not focus on the function, on what you do but instead on who you are; your presence.
With all of this said, Geertz offers a good methodological foundation for discerning meaning within a community (via “thick description”). So, this novice will attempt to use Geertz in his meager theological work. May all anthropologists have mercy on his soul.

Afterthought: Ortner and others point out that Geertz fails to address issues of power (a la Foucault) in his approach. She offers a way to maintain a Geertzian focus and to open the door for discussions of power and relationships. As I continue to look at the minister, Ortner’s suggestions (as well as Foucault’s concerning power) are helpful.

Relationships

I am a bit behind which means my thoughts about this book are a little cloudy. When I was in seminary I was introduced to the idea of “relationality” by S. Mark Heim. The relationships of God as seen in the Trinity reflect the nature of humanity, the church and our desire to be in relationship with God (crassly put). The idea seemed so obvious to me that I did not pay it much heed and ran back to Tillich, questions of despair and “being” and looking for my ground. Ah the naïveté of youth. Now, after having read folks such as Heim, Volf, and Fiddes I am realizing that there is much more than just the obvious we need to be nice to each other. The ecclesiological implications of relationship alone is profound. With all of this said, Fiddes does not seem to be offering anything groundbreaking or earth shattering, but is playing in the same sandbox as others and building a decent castle to consider. What Fiddes does consider are the pastoral implications one finds in such a theological approach. No longer is the role of the minister to offer answers to the many theological questions that are on the minds of those sitting in the pews. (I am assuming that those folks in the pews are peculating with theological questions and not thinking about the next sports game, or how the colors of the flowers are all wrong, or anything like that… let me dream, let me dream.) Instead, the minister is to offer to bring the individual into relationship with God, questions and all. This means the minister needs to be in a relationship with the parishioner and then to allow God to flow in the relationship – this is Fiddes understand of an ontology of relationship; God happens in the flow of a relationship (page 281 if you don’t believe me).
On the Baptist level Fiddes had some interesting points. He claims that the pastor has been commissioned to speak for God regularly, specifically the forgiveness that God offers. Seems kinda Catholic. Fiddes covers the hierarchical potential by claiming that ordination is given by Christ and the congregation – whew! One interesting claim that Fiddes (and possibly Ellis – see previous entry on worship) makes is that Baptist are sacramental people due to the free form of their worship. The purpose of worship, Fiddes claims, is for the congregation to find the mind of Christ. Some congregations listen better than others. Interesting thought. Maybe someday I’ll meet Fiddes and talk to him about his ideas, get to know him and his thoughts. Then again, isn’t it much more fun for me to just read what he has offered, spew my thoughts and then walk away? The less relationship, the less the mess.

I'm still here....

Haven’t posted in a while and I’m feeling a bit guilty about that (especially since some of my other good Baptist buddies have been quite active with their blog …). I recently read Fiddes’ Participating in God, and still intend to write about that, but not today. So I give you good intentions, knowing how much that is worth. Currently I am working through McClendon and Smith’s Understanding Religious Convictions. Think Austin, Wittgenstein, Ramsey, and theology – are you getting bored yet? It is fairly technical and dry. While the work gives a great breakdown of McClendon’s methodological approach to theology, it is one of his less captivating works. Yesterday, while reading the book in my favorite coffee shop, Milkboy, a young woman working there (recent high school grad) asked me what I was reading, and what it was about. Hmm….. how does one describe a book on speech acts, utterances, convictions, and happiness in a way that can be understood and does not make you look like a total loser. I don’t think it is possible, and my “rep” went down a number of notches. Sigh.
Anyway, I’ll plan on giving a summary of the entire book when I finish it, but for now I have a thought. McClendon, Smith, and all the language nuts claim that one’s speech must reflect one’s experience or truth (a crass reductions\). This is how one discerns the convictions/truth claims of a religious community. Yet what if their heart is not with their words? What if someone says, “Jesus is Lord,” but doesn’t believe it? What if that person is in a leadership position, knows all the right words to speak, but does not really believe it. Dare I suggest that there might be pastors and even bishops (“what’s a bishop?” says the Baptist) who are speaking without believing? I think all of these language folks are right in claiming that each community has its own grammar. This means that one can be immersed in a community and learn the language of the community. Is it possible to know the language, to know the grammar well enough to be fluent in the community without actually ascribing to the beliefs of the community? Turn on TBN, watch the slimly preachers offering hope and receiving millions and tell me what you think.

Baptist Worship, Praise, Praise, Ugh

Worship. Many would argue that worship is the center of the life of the religious community. It is the apex of all that the community gathers around. It also tends to be one of the more controversial – over style of music, preaching and even the decorum of the room. One of the fun things about being Baptist is that we do not have a set liturgy, or a specific way that we collectively have agreed to worship. The idea of Baptists collectively agreeing on anything is a thought that strikes terror into my very soul…. but that is neither here nor there.
Baptists have tended to be free form having prayers, scripture and a sermon interspersed with hymns. Yet even our worship should say something. Even our worship should have a theological statement that can be articulated and embraced. Christopher Ellis believes this is so, and he attempts to demonstrate Baptist liturgical theology in his book: Gathering: A Theology and Spirituality of Worship in Free Church Tradition. Ellis looks at Baptist worship in England historically and currently and pulls out trends and patters suggesting a liturgical theology that is implicit. He suggests that all Baptist worship contains four things:

Scripture
A sense of devotion to God/Christ on behalf of those gathered
An openness to the actions of the Holy Spirit (via pray, singing…)
An eschatological orientation
A fanatical devotion to the pope (this one is my suggestion)

Ellis suggests that one should not look at the order of worship, nor even the particulars of the content, but be open to the four principles occurring in worship.
I think Ellis is making a great point and one that is needed for Baptists to take the idea of worship seriously (beyond falling into the liturgical trap of changing the music and calling that “worship” – liturgical crap). When one plans worship, all four aspect can and should be considered, and more importantly, when one is engaged in worship all four aspects should be sought. Ellis is not allowing worship to become a spectator sport – he even considers White’s distinctives between active and passive worship. Specifically the sense of devotion to God/Christ. If the gathered body of the congregation is only observing without a sense of devotion, then even the best sermon cannot “make worship happen.” This is different from a liturgy that believes the sacrament will happen no matter what the participants believe – which occurs in the higher liturgical, sacramental traditions. This is stating that the power of worship rests, to some degree, in the hands and hearts of those involved in worship.
Now does this happen? I am sure that on any given Sunday about 10 – 15% of the congregation is not really there. I am sure that on any given Sunday about 10-15% of the congregation is really involved. What about the rest?
On another note, what does this say about God? Is God’s presence contingent on the beliefs and attitudes of the congregation? Now we get into theological questions of God that have been answered by Cupato, Hartshorne, (see previous reference) and Fiddes (whom I am reading right now) as well as others.
Worship; I could say more, pointing out the difference between Baptists in America and Baptists in England, but I don’t want to lose the reader (all two of them) in this hyper-byte culture (write to much and you will be lost). It is good to see Ellis suggesting something concrete for Baptists to grasp and embrace – maybe it will help. Probably not.

Be Careful What You Say

I’ve just finished reviewing a number of articles and chapters concerning James Wm. McClendon, Jr. His theology is based largely on speech, specifically the thoughts of Austin and Ayer. Speech carries meaning which can vary depending upon the context and the culture of the speaker/listener. McClendon tries to pull out what he calls the “narrative” of the local community in his own work. Some may claim that such an approach is non-foundational (foundationalism being a theory of knowledge which claims that how one knows can be justified and the claims of justification must stop somewhere). McClendon comes from the school of thought which claims that language is a mirror of reality, and that community/reality will vary with context.
Why would I use such a theologian? Because Baptists are low church folk. Baptists are folk who look to the local church and the individual as the source of theology. Some may claim they look to the Bible, but they approach the Bible out of a specific context and within a specific community. Thus the scriptural interpretations one arrives at are influenced by that community. So we need to find out what Baptist are saying and have been saying to discern the reality of a Baptist theology.
This is still a little bit vague, but that is because I am still mulling over what I have read. Today I am going to start to work on an outline – the process of doing this will help to focus my thoughts.

Thick Headed?

In preparation for my second chapter, I have been reading articles about Clifford Geertz, as well as some of Geertz’s own writings (specifically some chapters from The Interpretation of Culture). There are two areas in Geertz’s work which interest me. One is his definition of religion:

A system of symbols which acts to establish powerful, pervasive, and long-lasting moods and motivations in men [sic] by formulating conceptions of a general order of existence and clothing these conceptions with such an aura of factuality that the moods and motivations seem uniquely realistic.

It is an interesting and compelling definition from an anthropological standpoint. Geertz claims that all religions, through their symbols and signs, reach to a metaphysical reality. This is interesting, but not central to my work. Granted there is a bit of overlap with Lindbeck, and the idea of Sacred Consciousness, but I need to avoid the black hole of thoughts if I am to ever complete the expletive dissertation.

The second aspect of Geertz that I find compelling is his understanding of the “Thick Description.” Granted this is taken from Ryle’s thoughts, Geertz applies it to anthropology in a way that can great help and inform theology. Basically, Geertz is arguing that context is the text – that only within the context of a culture can something be understood and to gain that understanding one must have a “thick description” of the culture. His example (actually Ryle’s) is the wink. A thin description would observe a twitch of one eyelid. A thick description would consider the different messages that are conveyed with a wink. Geertz claims that through a thick description of culture one can interpret the signs and symbols of that culture. (I would like to note that Wittgenstein is still in the background – his writings have influenced Geertz… can anyone escape Wittgenstein?)

This is helpful for me to focus on the Baptist community/movement as a text. I am trying to understand the role, symbol, and significance of the minister in a Baptist community. One cannot simply gain such an understanding by observing worship on any given Sunday – that only offers a small piece of the experience. One must engage the community to discern the meaning and practices of the community. If I am to do a theology that is social, that is reflective of the movement of the people, then my analysis must arrive from a thick and not thin description. Geertz has shown me the path upon which I can walk as I venture further and further into the Baptist movement. Watch out for the blood-sucking mosquitoes!

Next up – McClendon and narrative theology…whee!!!

theological smack-down: realists vs. pragmatists

It has been a while – but such is life. I have been reading a heck-of-a-lot (that is a doctoral term for “heaping pile”) of articles about Lindbeck, specifically his work Nature of Doctrine (see earlier posting, “the grammar of Baptists”, December 24, 2006). I intend on using Lindbeck’s linguistic approach to theology as a way to discern Baptist theology from within the context of the community. As I read the articles, two major themes of concern arose. (1) the critique from the realist camp. Lindbeck claims that truth is intrasystamitic – it exists within the context of the community as can be discerned from the language games of that community. The realists response looks for a truth that transcends the individual communities. When considering conversations between other faith traditions, this becomes a very real issue. Lindbeck does offer some ontological truths – monotheistic faith, historical specificity and Christological maximalism – these are the “first order” doctrines culled from the Nicene Creed. Lindbeck also seems to claim that God does exist, that there are ontological truths upon which all reality rests, yet then returns to the specificity of the community as the place where these truths can be ascertained. This makes the realists nervous, muttering accusations of non-foundationalism towards Lindbeck’s general direction.
(2) the pragmatists are nervous because of Lindbeck’s desire to claim some ontological truths. They applaud the “thick description,” cultural linguistic approach to theology agreeing with the Wittgensteinian emphasis upon language as an epistemology. We can only know what we say, and truths will vary from community to community. Hence when Lindbeck claims some basic truths, the pragmatists fingers wag in Lindbeck’s direction accusing him of being disingenuous.
(note – I am not citing anyone specifically in this summary, but if you (the reader) would like some specific articles to read concerning either critique, send me a comment.
As I enter into the room of arguments, pontification and illumination, I have to ask myself how I shall allow Lindbeck to influence my own work being aware of the various critiques. Towards the realists I say, “relax.” My work is intended to be focused on a specific community – the Baptist movement. I am not comparing Baptist ordination with others, except to show differences (for example I am comparing Baptist ordination with Catholic). I am not trying to find a meta-ordination for all of Christianity, so I am not specifically looking for ontological truths about ordination. Yet to the pragmatists I say, “get your act together.” While I am considering the Baptist movement, I am not going to assume that each specific church has its own truths and never the two shall meet. While each church does express itself in its own way (further stirring the mud of the ecclesiological pool), each church is a part of a larger Baptist movement. Within that movement one can find “first order” doctrines and “second order” doctrines. I am going to claim that there are some truths within the Baptist movement which transcend the local church to the greater movement. One of the challenges before me is discerning 1st order from 2nd order “doctrines” within the Baptist movement, and how they are expressed within the local church. Lindbeck offers a good approach to doing Baptist theology. Aware of the concerns that others have with Lindbeck, I feel confident that I can go forward and articulate the “cultural-linguistic” theology as it exists within the Baptist movement.
Next up, Geertz (“thick description”)… yum!

Progress!

I have finally finished the first draft of my dissertation and have sent it to my director. Granted, it was a re-working of my prospectus, but it still is progress. Now, onto Lindbeck, Geertz and McClendon for the second chapter.

Who shall watch the watchmen?

What is with the desire for a hierarchy? Why does one need to pull out of scripture an ordering of ministries which places people in categories of chrisms according to the divine whim?
Here I’m referring to T.F. Torrance’s work Royal Priesthood: A Theology of Ordained Ministry, but he is far from alone. Torrance stands with the Catholic Church via Lumen Gentium (although I think Torrance would shiver at such a prospect – his is not Catholic, and had very few kind word to share about Catholicism in his footnotes). Here is the breakdown of what Torrance is arguing.
It all starts with Eucharist. There, in the liturgical moment, the reality of the church as the body of Christ already, and the body of Christ yet to be comes into its fullness. There, in that liturgical moment, the people are taken into what will be the society of heaven where all the saints will gather. From the Eucharist comes the diversity of chrisms or spiritual gifts that make up the diversity of the body. Torrance pulls out two main chrisms – deacons and presbyters. The ministry of the deacons is to “prompt and shape the response of the congregation in life and worship. The ministry of the presbyter is to “minister Word and Sacrament.” (all from pg 102) So far nothing to drastic; different folks with different strokes all around the…. Body of Christ. Yet Torrance cannot keep still and has to add the ministry of the episcopacy, i.e. bishop, which is to oversee the presbyter (also from page 102). He makes the claim that in the fullness of time, in the glories of heaven the bishop will not be needed because all hierarchy will fall away, but in the here and now, the bishop is needed for continuity and unity. Ah Torrance, do you not trust the Holy Spirit as the overseer? And who shall oversee the overseers? Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Who shall watch the watchmen? Perhaps we should choose one to oversee the others…. a kind of collogue among collogues, but one that guides the body of bishops (magisterium). Sounds strangely Catholic.
Overall, Torrance is offering a good work (I learned in grad school that nothing is to be described as “great,” because that means you have nothing to criticize ). His ecclesiology is wrapped with the Pauline “already / not yet” in a captivating and powerful way. His understanding of the power of liturgy through the actions of Christ is compelling. He does push for a relational mutuality, an “inner membering” of the church (100) creating the fertile ground for an egalitarian gathering. His emphasis on the Eucharistic is a bit of a stretch for this simple Baptist, but I think I can consider, not Christ in the bread and cup, but the people gathered at the final meal in the fullness of time, sitting with our Lord. Yet why the desire for a bishop? This is where I am lost as a Baptist. In response I would emphasize the power and the promise (to reference Cowell’s work… see a previous posting) of the Holy Spirit to guide the community, to oversee the community and to maintain the unity of the community. Otherwise, the hierarchy create communities within communities; a council of bishops who place themselves aside and apart and above the rest of the Church. So let go of the overseer, and take that leap into the disestablishment chaos of churches trying to be churches guided by the Word, Worship, and the Holy Spirit.

Would the Real Jesus Please Stand Up?

So we have two natures of Jesus – God and Man. This is a basic argument that has been battered that tossed and discussed quite a bit among the greats of theology. Some have claimed that Jesus was fully God, although perhaps a little less than the God, and other claim that he was fully man, although more than ordinary people. Tradition has done its part and insured that both lines of thinking were chased out of the church with burning torches and the like. Instead we have great metaphysical terms, Greek words and multi-syllable approaches to understanding the nature of Jesus.
P.T. Forsyth eschews such terms and concepts (specifically in The Person and Place of Jesus Christ). He is writing from a early 20th century context, wrestling with liberalism, orthodoxy and from time to time Catholicism. Forsyth argues that there are two natures to Christ, but one should not use the cumbersome metaphysical language of the early church fathers. Instead, one should look to the moral (his word) aspect of Christ and how it relates to us. According to Forsyth, there are basically two motions occurring – there is “the upward movement of man’s quest for God and the downward of God’s conquest of man” (335). In the upward movement from the point of humanity we have faith, and in the downward movement from the point of God we have grace. Forsyth describes these two movements as basic to creation. Both are moral acts; humanity – faith and God – grace. In Christ we have the union of the moral acts; in Christ we have, “the union of God and man… as the mutual involution of two personal movements raised to the whole scale of the human soul and the divine.”
Forsyth claims that such is possible because in Christ we have kenosis or a self-emptying and plerosis or a self-fulfillment.
Now I could go into further detail about Forsyth’s understanding of these terms, he approach to scripture, and understanding of “moral” doctrines. What I find fascinating is the idea that in Christ there is a constant pulling. There is a pulling to be with God, and to lead others to be with God. Christ understands our basic desire to have communion with God, because that basic desire is a part of him, and so shows us the way to fulfill that desire. Yet at the same time there is a desire to be with us. There is a desire to be in our presence, to care for us and to share grace with us. When Christ forgives the sins of the sick, he is offering the grace of God. He is incarnating God’s desire to be with us. So rather than thinking of two natures, or two persons, Forsyth offers one person with pulling desires. There is a desire to be with God, and a desire to be with us.
Here is my thought. Far be it from me to assume that we can be Jesus, but what if we follow such desires ourselves? What if we still follow our desire to claim faith in the grace of the Lord and grow closer to God, but at the same time yearn to share God’s grace with others? What if we see our mandate not only to believe but to bring others to believe? I think there may be scripture to back up such a crazy idea (Mt 28). I am not suggesting that we become Jesus, but perhaps we follow more closely his ministry and his life with such an approach.

Does Size Matter?

This past Wednesday (Ash Wednesday) I went to the local Methodist church – St. Luke United Methodist – for their Ash Wednesday service. There were not a lot of people attending, only slightly more than were in the choir. I could relate to the pastor’s feeling of disappointment in the size – I know what that is like. Just the night before we had a Shrove Tuesday pancake dinner and gospel service and I was a little disappointed with the turnout. I let wondering if people were really committed to the church and if it was worth having such programs if “no one” was going to attend. Maybe size does matter.
On Wednesday, I felt differently. Perhaps it was because I was not leading the service, but sitting in the congregation. Perhaps it had something to do with the solemn focus of Ash Wednesday, but I felt a connection with the Spirit in the service. I didn’t care how many people were around me, it didn’t matter. It did matter that I was in a gathered community, but numbers weren’t as important. Instead, it felt like a very meaningful, moving and intimate service that could not be replicated with the masses. So maybe size does not matter.
I think Wed’s lesson speaks for itself. I think it is very easy to fall into the counting game. I hope I can find the strength and conviction to worship God and lead others in worship regardless if there are 2 or 200 or 2,000. Perhaps size doesn’t matter.


Afterthought: all of this is based on the premise that the smaller the group the less it has to offer. Perhaps one should consider the inverse; the larger the group the less it has to offer.

Miracles

The other night I was meeting with some college students talking about miracles. We discussed the skeptic’s point of view, the believer’s point of view, and so on. After a while it seemed that miracles were not necessarily a tool of evangelism, it would not bring on to faith, but something for those who already believe. If someone doesn’t believe in God, than that individual will no doubt look for another reason for the miracle.
Here is the interesting thing that happened. We were discussing the early Pentecostal movement, and what seemed to be a great need of people to experience miracles. People in the lower to middle economic spheres needed help that they could not afford were looking for miracles. With this in mind, I asked, “what are miracles that you hope for?” The answers ranged from the unity of the church (pan-denominational), to reconciliation between family members, to world peace. I was taken aback by such answers, for they seemed to point to things that many of us desire, but feel as if they are beyond our control. They seemed to point to things that without God’s presence would be seen as beyond hope. So perhaps a miracle is something that reaches beyond our hope in ourselves to our hope in God. Perhaps our hope in miracles is what keeps us all engaged in the work and ministry of the gospel. I am not going to bring peace to the world, but God will, and so I work towards being a part of that miracle.
Perhaps, then, the miracle is not what we see, but what we hope to see and place in the hands of God.

Crossing the Line

A number of the scholars that I have been attracted to have been described as “Catholic-Baptists.” Look at some of my pervious postings and you will see what I mean. They are born and raised Baptists who hold to many of the time-tested convections of Baptist life, yet liturgically, theologically, and ecclesiology yearn for something more. It seems that they are yearning for a depth and a richness that many would perceive to be lacking in the greater Baptist movement. Hence the push for sacramentality in Baptist life. In many ways I agree with these scholars. I agree that our ecclesiology could use development and depth. I agree that we could be more honest with what is happening in our worship (i.e. the actions of the Holy Spirit), and should claim the sacramentality that is already occurring. I agree that we become to immersed in our own understanding of the Word rather than how God is speaking to us through the Word. I agree on many points with these “Catholic-Baptist” folks. Yet there are times when I feel they may go to far.
I am thinking in particular of John Colwell’s book Promise and Presence: An Exploration of Sacramental Theology. Colwell admits that he is crossing a line with his thoughts and suggestions. While for the most part I do not think he needs to be so hard on himself, there is one place where I would halt his progress – ordination (granted, this is the area that I am working on, so there may be a reason that I quibble with Colwell on this particular issue). Colwell speaks in favor for viewing ordination as a calling by God, a promise by God to work through the minister as an agent and instrument of God’s grace. It is, for Colwell, an ontological change that is indelible. Competence to preach and administer the Sacraments can only come from God. This is where I get uneasy. Colwell uses the imagery of the minister as a midwife birthing the growth of the church, and that is an image I like. Yet the idea of an ontological change which is indelible, the idea that competence comes from God leans to far towards the Catholics. My struggle is saying why. We claim that God gives us gifts, and perhaps the gifts to do ministry come from God: competence. We claim that we are all changed through our baptism (while Colwell makes this claim, he does not stress it as strongly as others do, especially in the Catholic circles). What I think concerns me is the idea that the minister is called to a ministry of Word and Sacrament. This is not something, at least to my knowledge, that is a part of the Baptist movement. It feels like a transplant from the reformed/ Presbyterian tradition. Perhaps that is the rub, the understanding of the purpose of ministry. This is something I will have to think about and study further.
Another reason why I may find myself hesitant from joining whole-heartedly this “Baptist-Catholic” movement is because of the method. So far, the majority of the folks that I have read have been offering a top-down theology. Granted, some have used the patristic, but that is top-down for most Baptists. I want to offer a bottom-up theology. I want to offer a theology that is based on theory, but also and what Baptist have been doing and are continuing to do, and how God’s presence can be found within such actions. I think the difference is from offering new or different theories and approaches to ecclesiology (as the Baptist-Catholics are doing), or offering a nuanced articulation of what is already happening (as I hope to do). With such an approach, hopefully I will not cross the line to something that can no longer be recognized as Baptist.

What do you do all day?

Ok, no book to review today, just some thoughts. It is almost cliche to talk about the assumption that all a pastor does is preach on Sundays, but it is something that comes up every once and a while. Not just the work that is done on Sundays, but the work that is done during the week. I think it is a question of the tasks of the pastor. What is a pastor supposed to be doing all week.
I think some would prefer the pastor to visit the sick and leave it at that. I wonder about such an assumption. It is important to visit the sick, but that can't be all. What does it say theologically if the role of the pastor is to just visit the sick and preach? What does such a visit do for the person visited. If I were part of a high church movement, then I might be able to draw upon the sacramental traditions, especially in a healing ministry. Yet I shirk away from the idea that the pastor brings special powers to the side of the sick. On the other hand, I do feel that the presence of the pastor can help the sick be aware of God's presence - this is good. So visits are good.
At the same time there is much more to do. I believe the pastor is in many ways the face of the church to the community. The pastor is the one who is in the community serving the needy, helping those in distress and sharing the gospel. This is vague, and the specifics can take time.
The pastor is to pray for the people.
The pastor is to prepare meetings, to prepare budgets, to answer mail, and take care of the nitty gritty stuff of the church. If it is a large church, then that is a totally different issue (then the pastor is to raise money). It is important for the pastor to do this work because it is part of the forming of a community.
I think this is closer to the crux of what the pastor does. The pastor forms a community. The pastor calls the members of the congregation to visit the sick, to answer phones, to be present in the community, to pray, and to study. The pastor leads the formation and to a degree is a part of the formation. Theologically, I would argue that this sets the pastor apart. Theologically I would argue this is why the pastor is ordained. The pastor leads the community on behalf of God/Holy Spirit. The pastor guides the community as he or she has been called by God. This is a big trust issue because sometimes the way the Holy Spirit leads may not seem to be the best way according to many. This itself is a topic for another time.
The point is, the pastor has to do a lot during the week that at times seems to very much be church work, and at other times seems to be "busy work." Yet if the pastor is connected to the Holy Spirit, then it all is good work. I hope.

evil exists.... deal with it

There is a long line of people who have attempted climb a Mount Everest of human existence – why do we suffer. Or perhaps to reference the good rabbi – “Why do bad things happen to good people?” The question of theodicy has taken down many worthy theologians and philosophers and yet the line of individuals waiting to climb the mountain wraps around the mountain again and again. I recently read an article that attempts to tackle this very problem. John Schneider’s article “Seeing God Where the Wild Things Are: An Essay on the Defeat of Horrendous Evil” is the article in question. It is part of a larger work Christian Faith and the Problem of Evil edited by Peter van Inwagen (a collection of theologians and philosophers all making a group expedition up the beguiling mountain of theodicy).
Schneider starts by charting out the current landscape of discourse concerning theodicy, specifically in the Christian Orthodox arena. He begins referencing J.L. Mackie’s article “Evil and Omnipotence” as a ground braking work. I have not read the article yet, but will try to get to it. Regardless, Schneider’s article is one that can be read without previous knowledge of Mackie’s work.
Schneider starts by making a number of theistic claims: God exists, is good, is omnipotent, etc…. and then invites Christians theologians to return or stay involved in the philosophical debate of evil and the rationality of a deism in the human experience. It reminds me of Abraham’s epistemological claim for the sake of Christianity in the discussion of epistemology. It is good that Schneider is being honest about his claims. He then considers the idea of “horrendous evils,” which is an evil that makes one question one’s purpose of life. This is the evil that causes unrest in the conscience of humanity. Schneider discusses other Christian responses to theodicy, pointing out their faults and failings. There is a problem with giving not enough power to God (Hick), or taking free will away from humanity. There is the question of the suffering of God and how that can occur with an all powerful, all perfect God. Schneider surveys the landscape well before turning to the crux of his argument.
The argument starts with the book of Job. It starts with a common interpretation of Job (especially the end of the book), and then considering some alternative options for understanding the biblical book. Schneider’s interest is in the final conversation between God and Job. Many understand that conversation as God telling Job to not question and accept that some things are just beyond understanding, and Schneider is not happy with this reading and offers another reading suggested by other scholars. This reading considers the symbolic aspect of God controlling the Leviathan, the chaos and the hope which it gives to Job. In this particular reading of Job, the author is claiming that God is in control of the chaos. Job was finding chaos in his life, and God was suggesting that never was Job out of the Lord’s care.
Schneider finally takes this reading of Job to the gospel of Mark. In Mark, Jesus is depicted as one who is in control of the chaos through a narrative reading of the text. Even in the chaos of the cross itself, we should find some hope that God is ultimately in control, hence the resurrection.
Unless I have missed something, Schneider is offering a understanding to the issue of evil that many have considered before. To claim that God is in control, and has tamed the chaos of the horrible evil does not seem that removed from the Calvinistic claim that God is in control of all of our lives. How is this answer different from a soft predestination? Hartshorn has criticized such a response, as has Caputo and others. They have argued for a weakness of God that does not force a happy ending out of the most horrendous situation. Schneider is offering a good synopsis of current creative exegetical work of Job and Mark, but is not offering anything new to the larger discourse of theodicy.
Further, I do not find the same kind of hope that Schneider offers in his understanding of Job. The only hope I can find is that even those whose lives are lost in horrible evil (i.e. the holocaust) are not lost in vain. God can make that life worthwhile. This does not answer the problem of evil, but find hope in the face of evil. I fear this could lead toward the cheap answer to suffering: this is all done for a reason. Or to look for a silver lining in the horrendous situation.
I agree with Schneider’s entrance of Mark. Mark give us the Trinitarian foundation of hope that God suffers, and find hopes in the suffering. This gives some hope without a pie-in-the-sky kind of Pollyanna sunshine. It does not offer a good answer for why evil occurs, but does if it does one can find some hope in the suffering. In the end it is a good essay, but nothing new in this climb up the question of theodicy.

Catholic Baptist? or Calling a Duck a Duck

I have been accused of being to Catholic for my Baptist colleagues. I guess that is what you get for studying at a Catholic University. Many a jokes have been made (at my expense) with someone looking for my ring, or my bishop’s hat. In my defense, I turn to Steven Harmon’s work Towards Baptist Catholicity. Harmon is suggesting n many ways what my friends are simply joking about, that we retrieve our deeper “catholic” roots in the Baptist community. Harmon actually goes beyond Vatican I, or the Council of Trent to the Patristic as a source of tradition. He is arguing that a resourceement of the Patristic writers in the Baptist movement will lead to a deepening of worship and theology in the local churches. I like his argument, he approach and even some of his conclusions. One of the questions I have is “why?” (even though I think I know the answer). Why do we need to change, why do churches need to develop their worship? Why do we need to look beyond scripture and the pastor for an understanding of our faith? Harmon hints as reasons, criticizing the vapid mindless worship that millions of Baptists engage in each Sunday. He hints at the weak theological identity and self understanding that many Baptist churches have, but I did not find an overall argument for change via the negative. There is a lot of positive that one can glean from such a resourceement. There is a deep and rich tradition. The positive argument is strong, but I think the negative needs to be made stronger. If one really wants to push for change, the point out the weak theology and even the heresy that is being practiced in many churches today. Make the argument that Baptist need to change to be true to Christ (if that is an argument one can make). Perhaps I am calling Baptist to offer a critical critique of the “Baptist life.” I am calling Baptists to come out and say how churches and Christians are not staying true to the faith. If something is heritical (like the prosperity gospel), then call it heretical. Let’s work for change, but not simply for the sake of change itself. Rather, lets work for change because our salvation, our faith, our life in the community depends upon it. (a little harsh, but then again isn’t such polemical writing the norm for blogs?)

An afterthought: In his book, Harmon states that one of the major reasons he couldn’t become Catholic is because they do not ordain woman. An admirable reason, but what about baptism? Does Harmon believe infant baptism is acceptable? Is believers baptism simply as secondary aspect of Baptist life? I contend (I think Brackeny does as well) that all other aspects of Baptist life can come out of the theological stance of believer’s baptism. I certainly hope Harmon is not so quick to throw the baby into the bathwater as he romantically looks across the isle at the liturgical life of the Catholic.

Fast-Track Christianity

Hungry? Then don’t read this next entry. Kent Berghuis’ work Christian Fasting: A Theological Approach will drive you to consider skipping the next meal. That is why I read it during T-Day, in hopes that maybe I would temper my appetite and not overeat. It didn’t work. I have to be kind with Berghuis’ work, he is a friend of mine. Even if he wasn’t a friend, I don’t think I would trash this work. Berghuis does a good job following the practice of fasting through the OT, NT and Christ history. He raises the question, “why do evangelicals shy away from spiritual practices such as fasting.” His answer comes out of his survey and analysis, and he concludes by offering a theology towards fasting; Berghuis suggests that fasting focuses on Christ, unites the community, anticipates the return of Christ, and is connected with the well-being of the body.
The whole question of fasting seems to beg the larger question of the evangelical relationship with Catholicism/history and the larger church. The anti-Catholic reaction, largely a reaction to excess and corruption has led many groups of evangelical Protestants to reject anything that slightly smacks of high church and a rejection of a larger Christian tradition for the sake of Sola Scriptura (yet in Steve Harmon’s work Baptist Catholicity he makes the claim that even the claim Sola Scriptura is a claim to a specific traditional way of understanding community and practice). Berghuis shows how fasting is Biblical, but challenges a deeper assumption: not everything the Catholics do is anti-bible. Catholicism is deeply rooted in scripture, but a specific way of understanding and explaining scripture. A blind rejection of all things “papist” is a rejection of a rich part of the Christian story lived out. Secondly, just because the popular practice seems hypocritical does not mean it is, at its root, wrong. The popular practice of fasting has, from time to time, gone astray, for example, monks breaking their fast with a 4,700 calorie meal. Yet one should not judge the practice itself based on the way it is practiced. I know many evangelicals who misuse the extemporaneous prayer, pushing for their own agenda in a public setting, yet I would still advocate the un-scripted, free section of worship when one is praying on behalf of the congregation without the restriction of previously worded prayers. We need to follow Berghuis’ example, look at the practice in scripture, and in tradition before coming to a place where we accept or reject anything.
So in the end, I will fast, I will observe the liturgical calendar, I will engage in other spiritual disciplines that my colleagues may label as “papist.” There is a richness, an articulate devotion and a focus that is helpful and uplifting that I will embrace. I’ll not be so quick to judge…. isn’t such an approach biblical?

Jab

saw this in the Christian Century (that libral smut...) and thought it was clever:

"I'm not sure who'll invent the cure for cancer, discover a new energy source, or genetically engineer a plant that will end starvation, but I bet it won't be an anti-Darwinian Christian"
- Philip Gulley, Porch Talk (HarperSanFrancisco)


From the Christian Century, November 13, 2007. pg. 7.

The stories we tell....

I like to preach. I think preaching is a central part of my identity as a pastor, and a person. It is as Rob Bell (from Mars Hill Church) described an art form. So to work on my preaching, I felt it would be good to learn about other preachers, and who better than to learn about St. Dominic. Ok, so there are many others to consider, but something about the Catholic understanding of chrism and preaching as a spiritual gift pulled me to Dominic. So I have been trying to learn a little bit about Dominic and his ilk. To start, I read St. Dominic by Eliza Allen Starr. This is an exert from a larger book, Patron Saints. It is an older and not at all academic work. The work swoons over Dominic, the wonderful miracles he performed, how perfect he was, etc... On the one hand, this wasn't exactly the bio I was looking for - there is probably some truth in the story, but a lot of apocropha. On the other hand, this portrayal offers to me a depiction of Dominic that is understood on the popular level (remember the difference between "popular Catholicism" and "Official Catholicism"). The stories told about Dominic, while they may not be true, speak to the ideals and images that many people celebrate about him. The stories we tell about anybody may or may not speak to the reality, but certainly speak to our own image of the reality. Truth be told, we cannot get a completely accurate bio; bias will always play a part. Yet we are called to own our bias and name its source and purpose. Starr's account claims a part of the Catholic tradition's embrace of Dominic.

With all of that said, not much was made of Dominic's preaching. So I didn't get much out of the work on that end. Dominic was said to take his studies very seriously and that is something I can relate to. So not a waste of time. I have one other, longer, work to read which I am sure will give me more to chew on.

the mess we call Baptists

It is no secret that the Baptist (specifically the American Baptists) are organizationally a mess. It is no secret that without a central power, an administrative hierarchy with power and authority over the local churches one will find chaos. This is not a secret because of the recent hullabaloo over the stance, or lack of a stance that the denomination has or has not taken via homosexuality. If only we had a bishop, or a pope, or even a governing board that could make doctrinal decisions, then we would be more streamlined, more focused, and would be better able to witness to the world; or at least some would argue.
What is a secret are the reasons why we (Baptists) exist in the manner in which we do. We claim to ideals and “distinctives” as if they were given to us by Christ, but seldom speak to the social-historical context from which they derive, or to the theological foundations upon which they are based. Such a weak claim to central identifying characteristics will make it easy to chip away at such ideas as church autonomy and priesthood of the believers (which I believe a hierarchy would be opposed to).
Enter the recently deceased Paul Harrison’s book Authority and Power in the Free Church Tradition. While this book was originally published in 1959, it still is relevant in many ways today. Harrison speaks of the idea of freedom, reminding the reader that the original focus of the Baptists was to focus on the freedom of God; he analyzes the confession to demonstrate this early stance of the Baptists. He then offers a sociological study of the Convention (now it is a denomination). The weakness is that his study was done in the 1950s, before the infamous, (and deadly) SCODS decision, yet his analysis of the 1907 formation of the denomination is apt and still current. Harrison is looking at the role of the executive minister in the denomination, but his analysis goes beyond that focus. Harrison questions the very foundation and nature of the denomination. Based on his analysis of the 1907 denominational formation, I wonder if he would be celebrating the centennial of the ABC, or instead scoffing and quoting Francis Wayland’s spiteful description of the festering carcasses of institutions on the landscape of Christendom. The sociological descriptions and sharp and to the point, his historical analysis is brilliant, and his overall analysis of Baptist polity of worth reading by every seminary student, pastor, and denominational stooge (executive).
In his conclusion, Harrison states that the priesthood of the believer, soul freedom, and local church autonomy must be held in tension with associational interdependence, and the rule of the community. It is a both/and, not an either or. So the mess is necessary and appropriate. It is a way to ensure not that we are allowing the believer to be free, but that we are staying out of the way of God. If God is not free, then we cannot be free. To ensure that the church does not become an burden, a barrier to the movement of the Lord, we need the chaos and the mess. Only then can the Holy Spirit be free.

a diversion

This is a prayer that a Luthern friend shared with me. I thought it was pretty good...

"A Sacristy Prayer" by Martin Luther

Lord God, you have appointed me as a pastor in your church, but you see how unsuited I am to meet so great and difficult a taks. If I had lacked your help, I would have ruined everything long ago. Therefore I call upon you: I wish to devote my mouth and my heart to you; I shall teach the people. I myself will learn and ponder diligently upon your word. Use me as your instrument - but do not forsake me, for if I should ever be on my own, I would easily wreck it all. Amen

How do you know?

How do we know what we know? The question of epistemology has been bantered back and forth, back and forth. It is a question that has been left to the philosophers, the Cartesians (we know because we think), the realists (we know what we see) the Kantians (we can conceive of the possibility…. and see glimpses of things), the linguists (we know what the grammar of the community gives us language to know), and on and on. It is a question that theologians seem to stay away from because what can we say – we know because God said so. We know that creation is good because God said it is good, or at least we have decided to take the Bible as a source of knowing the words of God. Philosophically, this sounds weak. Yet William Abraham, in Crossing the Threshold of Divine Revelation, suggests that theologians should embrace the question of epistemology and discuss how we know what we know.
Abraham is not a novice to the conversation in philosophical circles, nor is he unaware of theological conversations. He footnotes offer a wonderful side-conversation around the meat of his text. Yet he seems to set his bar to high and then offer the platitude that we know about God through the divine revelation of God. We believe because God told us to believe, we saw God, we had an experience, etc. This seems weak.
Abraham claims that we know our faith through “canonical theism” – the knowledge of Christianity is based upon scriptures, early Christians, and tradition. It is almost Catholic (Scripture and Tradition). Yet that one crosses the threshold of that knowledge via divine revelation. We come to believe the substance of canonical theism because of a revelation of the Lord. Terry Tilley, suggests in Inventing Catholic Tradition that we come to know our faith through the grammar and rules of our faith. One does not need an intervention from on high to believe, one only needs to learn the language. Abraham is suggesting that someone could learn the who language, but will not have complete knowledge of God without God’s intervention – which he claims is rational. I find nothing rational about looking to a higher power for knowledge. Just as we mock those who look to aliens for that greater knowledge, I think it is appropriate for others to mock Christians who look to God for greater knowledge. When we are all on the rooftop, with our arms outstretched, asking for guidance, is there a difference? Our faith and knowledge of our faith is foolishness to the world (I think Paul said something about this…).
What I think Abraham is offering that is useful is a way to speak of epistemology from within the community. How do we know what we know? If we approach the issue from simply a philosophical standpoint, or even from a Wesleyian standpoint, all we have are tradition, reason, experience and scripture. Yet there is something that brings us to a point when we can say, “I believe in God, and thus view scripture, tradition, etc… as agents of the divine revelation.” Tilley would not look for that moment of revelation for knowledge, claiming that a part of our grammar is to claim a divine revelation. Abraham is claiming that the divine revelation is necessary for us to be able to speak and understand the grammar. Hence the issue, is the revelation of God necessary for knowledge or a part of the tradition? Chicken or egg?

A Subversive text

I have finally read some Ellul (for a book group that I belong to). A friend of mine has been bugging me for about three years to read the dead frenchman. The Subversion of Christianity is an interesting text which make broad and powerful claims about Christianity today. Ellul is arguing that all has been marred in Christianity (kinda) and that what we call Christianity is really just an “ism”, “denoting an ideological or doctrinal trend deriving from a philosophy” (pg. 10). He claims that true Christianity is;
1. the revelation and work of God accomplished in Jesus Christ
2. the being of the church as the body of Christ
3. the faith and life of Christians in truth and love

Being true to his French roots, Ellul decides to call true Christianity “X” and Christianity is the bastardized practice that many of us are involved in today. It all started with the entrance of philosophy into Christianity, or actually into Judaism. Ellul almost one-up’s Milbank Theology and Social Theory (posthumously and preeminently) claim that Christianity lost its way with the Reformation. Ellul claims that Hellenization of Judaism and Christianity was the beginning of the end. From there, even a rightly thought out idea or theory would still veer in the wrong direction because of the rotten foundation. Yet further in the book Ellul uses scripture from the Hellenized New Testament to argue against other subversions of Christianity (the drive for political power, for example). Hmmm, can one use flawed sources to argue against a flawed system? Ellul makes some great critiques of Christianity’s compromise with the state, with Islam (a fascinating chapter), with the separation of the sacred and the secular (again driving one to think of Milbank), with morals, and a drive for power. Ellul also has a great chapter about powers, and evil akin to Walter Wink’s work on the Powers and principalities.
Where I am unsettled is with Ellul’s conclusion. The Holy Spirit will make everything right, even if it is just for a moment. Is this a realized Eschatology resting on a wholly pnumatological causality? Or in other words, if we have f**ked up Christianity so much, do we have any hope of getting it right, or do we have to completely relay upon the actions of God, specifically the Holy Spirit, to experience the true Christianity that was intended? How much can we do, and how much is out of our hands? I think it is important to rely upon the Holy Spirit. I think it is important to get messy, not have things under control, to let go of our own desires and see where things lead. Yet I would also like to think that there is a relational nature to the Holy Spirit. I would like to that that not only does the Holy Spirit act, but we respond. I would also like to think that at times, despite ourselves, we act in a good and almost pure way, and the Holy Spirit can respond. It is a messy ecclesiology, theology, eschatology, but it is one where we can’t place all of the control in the hands of humans who have a tendency to screw up everything that is touched.

Flannery O'Connor - Dirty, gritty Spirituality

Here is my first official post post-exams. Maybe not exciting for anyone else, but for me….. So, to relax, I read the complete stories of Flannery O’Connor. I have already written about one of O’Connor’s stories (a Good Man…), but I think the entire volume deserves some attention. I will not presume to write as a critique, for that is not my training. I cannot speak to O’Connor’s literary style, influences, technique, etc… I will not presume to think that I really have anything to offer to the world of literature concerning O’Connor, so I write about her book with some humility. I do write as a Baptist theologian who has been studying the American Catholic experience for a number of years, and I think that brings a specific insight to O’Connor’s writings (a catholic who uses Baptist as her subjects in the south). The only thing I am missing is the Southern background, but I can only do so much.
Before I go any farther, I should remind the reader(s) and myself that we cannot try to read O’Connor’s mind. After writing my bit on “A Good Man…” I realized that I was working hard to try to understand what O’Connor was trying to say in her powerful story. This is a pursuit that will drive all mad, including the author. Need I remind the post-modern audience that the writer’s intent is a modernistic truth that is illusive. Read Stanley Fish (early or late) and you will know what I mean (hopefully). I cannot read O’Connor’s mind, nor can I ask her (she is in no position to answer) what she intended (she may not know herself). All I can do is react to her writings from my own horizion of experience.
It is good to get that off my chest.
I don’t think any of the stories were bad, but a couple really stood out as I read them:
The Turkey
Enoch and the Gorilla
A Good Man Is Hard to Find
The Life You Save May Be Your Own
The River
The Displaced Person
Good Country People
A View of the Woods
Everything The Rises Must Converge
The Partridge Festival
Revelation
Parker’s Back

O’Connor seems to end many of her stories with a sacramental moment when reality blurs with the kingdom of God; sometimes this feels forced, and sometimes this moves well. Her Catholicism is clear and obvious in a subdued (and sometimes not so subdued) kind of way. Her theology is deeply sacramental, often occurring in the mundane and the profane. It seems that O’Connor is putting down those who see themselves as religious and pious and lifts up the honest and authentic. The Misfit in “A Good Man….” may actually be the good man as he kills the grandmother. There is something gritty and earthy about O’Connor’s spirituality that transcends to the kingdom of God.
After reading the volume, I find a picture of the Kingdom of God challenged, deconstructed and reconstructed by O’Connor’s stories. The Kingdom of God does not seem to be a place where the pious, the holy, the socially acceptable will live, but a place where the poor, the cripple, the simple and the sinful will be found (see the end of Revelation). When I talk to some of my parishioners, I hear an image of heaven that is all white and perfect and full of only the holy people. O’Connor is challenging this. O’Connor is challenging the gritty and dirty and profane aspects of life as places where God’s presence can actually be found. O’Connor is challenging the sanctuaries as clean places and showing them as only half-saved. O’Connor is challenging the class, economic, societal structure that is so prevalent in the church as something that is upside down when it comes to the Lord’s economy of grace and salvation. Her stories are rich, engaging and challenging. Someone once told me (I think it was my sister-in-law) that a good writer can be read again and again. O’Connor is this kind of writer, who I know will continue to challenge and push me again and again.

New Feature - Library

You'll notice on the right (my left...) a random selection of books from my library. I haven't entered all of my books in the program yet, but am working on it. If you are interested in one of the books that I have, let me know and I'll share a bit about it. I have books to give the impression that I might know what I am talking about.

VICTORY!

I passed the exam!!! Now I am officially a Doctoral Candidate! ABD (all but dead)

A Good Analogy is Hard to Find

I am in the midst of exams – on Thursday I took the written section of the exam, and I will take the oral on Monday. All the while, in order to hold onto some semblance of my sanity, I have been reading some of the stories of Flannery O’Connor. She writes with power, depth, and sacramentality (and good, dark humor).
One of the stories that has really stuck in my head is her well known, “A Good Man is Hard to Find.” I recommend reading it – it shouldn’t take to long. With my first read of the story, I had to get over the shock of the ending – something in me really wants the best for people, and didn’t want the family to die. Something in me wanted the Misfit to make a radical decision and not kill any of the family. No doubt there is something to be said for the desire to find the good in people. Perhaps that is one of the driving points of the story, and something to keep in consideration. I have read the story a couple of times since then, I have talked to others about the story, and have read one review online (which I will try to keep out of my head so that it will not unduly influence my own musings).
I am sure that many, many people have written volumes and could offer a very thorough analysis of the story (and I invite your interpretations via comments), so I offer my thoughts with humility. The Misfit doesn’t fit. He went into the “hole,” the solitary confinement and came back the same person. He is in prison paying for some sin which he doesn’t remember but is sure that he committed and when he emerges from the hole he is still paying for the sin. Christ went into the hole and came up a new person – the Misfit didn’t fit. Or, Christ went into the hole and forgave all sins, and now all sins are equal – all people deserve to be punished/forgiven regardless if they kill someone or steal a tire iron. I know there is more but I am intrigued by the consideration of Christ. If Christ makes all sins equal, then should we start to treat all sinners in an equal way? Should we offer the harshest punishment for the smallest crime, or should we look at the other side of the coin and offer the greatest forgiveness to the greatest crime?
Or, should we assume that after going through a “rehabilitative” experience of one sort or another that we should be changed. The Eastern State Penitentiary was designed with the theory that if one would only take some time to sit and think about the wrongs he or she committed, then the person would change his or her ways. Time in isolation, in “the hole” should lead towards change.
These are just some initial thoughts that are rough and brief. Hopefully, when this hell of exams passes, I will be able to offer more substance and coherence. In the meantime, I will continue to study, read, and every now and then think more about “A Good Man is Hard to Find.”

New Baby

We had a new Baby on August 6, and I am still planning on taking the exam... I think I am crazy.

now I am committed

Well, my questions, prospectus and reading list have all been sent to my committee. So I have to keep on studying and be ready for the fateful date. I am a little nervous.

I lost my kitchen

Nothing to do with anything, but we are adding onto our home - with child number four, we need more space! To build up, we must tear down, and now my kitchen is gone.

Righteous Pricks

I’m working on my sermon, while preparing for my Comp’s. So I am a little bit stressed. This is one of the times when it would be nice to take a break from church and just focus on studies. But, I need to pay the bills, so I will continue to work.

Thoughts on Psalm 52 – a psalm of a bitter person.

When I read this psalm, I get a vision of a righteous-pious person preaching “I’m better than you” to the sinful bastards of the world. I get a vision of some tie-wearing, bible toting person standing on a rock, looking down at the mightaly wicked and saying – “I told you so.” This is not a great picture of Christianity in my mind.
Who would want to worship with this kind of prick, who is always looking for ways to put people in their place? I know I am not that righteous, and I am certainly not that pious. I don’t think the psalm is giving us permission to act high and mighty, but gives a real view of a common human reaction. Some people are better off in life with finances, etc than other. Some people gain their possessions through underhanded and evil ways. We need to name the acts as evil, but when we name the person as evil, then we lose a part of the essence of Christ. Yet even as I write this, I have a dream that someday I will be standing up on that rock, looking down on those who were the pious, righteous pricks and say “I told you so.”
Catch 22?

One final thought – Baptists have a spirituality/theology/liturgy, it just has not been articulated

sermon thoughts: good samaritian

The sermon text I am pondering is from Luke 10:25-37

A man is walking down the road, and is accosted by robbers…. A familiar story, perhaps to familiar, because it is very easy to just hear the story and respond with a surface, acceptable kind of response. It is very easy to just say, “yes, yes, I will be kind to other people.” It is easy to just read the word on one surface level and not go any deeper.
Yet we are called to let the text engage us, and we need to let the text take us to a deeper place that challenges us, forms us and shapes us. So we could stay safe with the story or let the story be dangerous in our lives. We could let the danger of the bible enter into our lives.

Here is an outline:

We are comfortable with this familar story
We are comfortable with a familar faith
We are called to take a deeper, more dangerous approach to the story
Really love the Lord your God.....
A dangerous love of the neighbor
A dangerous faith that one engages again and again