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.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, December 03, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
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?
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?
Saturday, November 10, 2007
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.
"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.
Monday, November 05, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, October 19, 2007
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
"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
Friday, October 12, 2007
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?
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?
Monday, September 17, 2007
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.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
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
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.
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.
Sunday, September 02, 2007
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.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Saturday, August 18, 2007
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.”
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.”
Thursday, August 09, 2007
New Baby
We had a new Baby on August 6, and I am still planning on taking the exam... I think I am crazy.
Monday, July 23, 2007
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.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
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
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
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
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
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
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
freedom and memory
Note: Currently working of a sermon based on Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20; influenced by Metz (dangerous memory), “Instruction on Christian Freedom and Liberation” by the CDF (Ratzinger), and the upcoming 4th of July
What do we have to lament in our nation today? Is it the just out of reach feeling we have as a church influencing the society? Is it the supposed lack of freedoms we enjoy (although I don’t think I could list any right now… liberal mush). Is it the supposed lack of religious freedoms we enjoy (although I don’t think I could list any of those right now… conservative mush). What do we have to lament in our nation today. For what does the memory of the Fourth of July give us hope? For what does the idea of independence, sacrifice, and nationalism give us courage?
Are we free? If we are held down by any physical illness than we are not free. If we are held down by any mental malaise or spiritual malcontent than we are not free. We walk as if held down by borders, held down by our own inadequacies and misfortunes; we are not free. But can we blame the leaders of our nation for such shackles? Can we blame the politicians for such barriers?
Are we free? If we hold back in questioning and critiquing, than we are not free. If we fear criticism and judgment for our budding beliefs and growing faith than we are not free. If we cannot challenge the government from our foundation of faith, even as others reject our challenge from their foundation of faith than we are not free.
Are we free? If we believe that “I” am important, the be-all, end-all and community is secondary than we are not free. If we believe that the nation serves us, and not us the people of the nation (watch the wording there), than we are not free. We cannot be free as “I”. We cannot be free as individuals. We cannot be free without the support, the demands and the relationships of communities. Alone we are not free.
Where can we look to remember our freedom? Look to our memory. Remember the passion of the English Separatists who desired a higher standard of the government. Remember the typological vision of Roger Williams who say Rhode Island as the Kingdom of God becoming. Remember the passion of Madison and Jefferson who believed that religion, practiced freely, could be a positive and necessary moral influence on government. Remember the Baptists who believe that God’s salvation must be accepted freely. Look to the Lord God who freed the Israelites from the bondage of Israel, who parted the waters and let the shackles of oppression fall into the hardship of Egypt.
Remember Christ who calls us to transcend our malaise, our malcontent, our illness, our shackles of sin and truly live. Remember Christ who calls us, sends us, and directs us to be free. Remember Christ, let the memory of Christ be our future banner, and we will begin to be free.
What do we have to lament in our nation today? Is it the just out of reach feeling we have as a church influencing the society? Is it the supposed lack of freedoms we enjoy (although I don’t think I could list any right now… liberal mush). Is it the supposed lack of religious freedoms we enjoy (although I don’t think I could list any of those right now… conservative mush). What do we have to lament in our nation today. For what does the memory of the Fourth of July give us hope? For what does the idea of independence, sacrifice, and nationalism give us courage?
Are we free? If we are held down by any physical illness than we are not free. If we are held down by any mental malaise or spiritual malcontent than we are not free. We walk as if held down by borders, held down by our own inadequacies and misfortunes; we are not free. But can we blame the leaders of our nation for such shackles? Can we blame the politicians for such barriers?
Are we free? If we hold back in questioning and critiquing, than we are not free. If we fear criticism and judgment for our budding beliefs and growing faith than we are not free. If we cannot challenge the government from our foundation of faith, even as others reject our challenge from their foundation of faith than we are not free.
Are we free? If we believe that “I” am important, the be-all, end-all and community is secondary than we are not free. If we believe that the nation serves us, and not us the people of the nation (watch the wording there), than we are not free. We cannot be free as “I”. We cannot be free as individuals. We cannot be free without the support, the demands and the relationships of communities. Alone we are not free.
Where can we look to remember our freedom? Look to our memory. Remember the passion of the English Separatists who desired a higher standard of the government. Remember the typological vision of Roger Williams who say Rhode Island as the Kingdom of God becoming. Remember the passion of Madison and Jefferson who believed that religion, practiced freely, could be a positive and necessary moral influence on government. Remember the Baptists who believe that God’s salvation must be accepted freely. Look to the Lord God who freed the Israelites from the bondage of Israel, who parted the waters and let the shackles of oppression fall into the hardship of Egypt.
Remember Christ who calls us to transcend our malaise, our malcontent, our illness, our shackles of sin and truly live. Remember Christ who calls us, sends us, and directs us to be free. Remember Christ, let the memory of Christ be our future banner, and we will begin to be free.
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