« June 2006 | Main | August 2006 »

I have struggled for years with the issue of Christian protest activism within a liberal-democratic regime such as ours. The injustice and evil, encoded within institutions and structures of our society, seem to call forth challenge from the depths of the church – a church much too often in acquiescence with the evil, or which responds with a blind eye and a shrug of the shoulders – after all, the task of the church, we are told, is not political, but spiritual.

What became early apparent to me that such responses are already embedded in the politics of liberalism – acquiescence obviously so; the complete distinction between the political and the spiritual accepting the liberal democratic distinction between the public and the private. Church-based political activism to transform the unjust, sinful structures seemed the only other response. Martin Luther King Jr. and Dorothy Day seem models for such activity.

Yet I’ve always wavered. I am a scholar of early Judaism and early Christianity. One just did not find Jesus or the early church engaged in such activities. One finds them consciously avoiding direct confrontation with the powers in order to fulfill their divinely appointed task. They prayed for the kings and emperors that they might live quietly and pursue holiness – they had to so pray because they were hunted down and martyred for their refusal to acknowledge their legitimacy, or join with the central activities that the powers used to legitimate their activity. Martyrdom, not protest, was the early Church’s response to the unjust, violent structures of their world.

In my reading of the philosophical and theological critics of liberalism, certain Marxist calls to resistance resonated with me. Yet Marxism itself entailed a large web of other convictions that I wanted nothing of – it shared too many presuppositions with its liberal democratic opponent. To shift from the totalitarian regime of liberal democracies to a totalitarian regime of a socialist state seemed to do nothing to remedy evil in the world; only to shift the perpetuators of this evil. To protest without an alternative seemed vain. I tired of supposedly radical talks about the evils of global capitalism at conferences within exquisite hotels by lecturers who walked past the homeless without looking at them in their eyes. Such behavior seemed to dehumanize human beings every bit as much as structures of global financing.

This week I think things came together why “protest activism” in a liberal democratic regime is counter-productive for Christians. I saw on Aljazeera.com that 3000 evangelicals gathered in Washington D.C. to influence the U.S. government to give the State of Israel the “green light” to obliterate Lebanon – so much for the ability of the church to witness in the Arabic world. If one shifts to the left, protests in support of leftist projects can surely result in the same damage to Christian witness.

But more importantly, I read an early article by Alasdair MacIntyre from The MacIntyre Reader. The article, ‘Notes from the Moral Wilderness’ was written in 1959, when MacIntyre was in his Trotskyist stage. MacIntyre wrote in response to the moral objections of certain Western Marxists to Leninism in Russia. He recognized that such “protests” rang empty from within a leftist perspective because liberalism easily assimilated such protests into its own legitimacy. It is a long quote, but well worth it:

“For the Western social pattern has a role all ready for the radical moral critic to play. It is accepted that there should be minorities of protest on particular issues. And it is even a reinforcement for the dominant picture of morality that the moral critic should exhibit himself choosing his values of protest. For they remain his values, his private values. There is no set of common, public standards to which he can appeal, no shared moral image for his society by means of which he can make his case. And if he chooses his values in the spirit of Hier sich ich, ich kann nicht anders, is it not equally open to his opponents to do the same? . . . the isolation of the moral from the factual, the emphasis on choice, the arbitrariness introduced into moral matters, all these play into the hands of the defenders of the established order. The moral critic . . . pays the penalties of both self-deception and ineffectiveness for imagining that moral knight errantry is compatible with being morally effective in our form of society. (pp. 34-5).

MacIntrye is entirely correct, even forty-five years later, in his analysis. One thinks, for instance, of the Bush administration’s pride in allowing the “freedom of protests” to occur during the run-up to the immoral US invasion of Iraq – and the immorality of the invasion is not my private moral judgment, but the truthful application of Christian just war principles. These protests had no effect as the Downing Street Memo makes clear – the invasion had already been determined, with intelligence being shaped around the policy. By reducing moral statements to private values, liberal political regimes enfold protests into the justification for its own totalitarian rule over its citizens.

Within liberal democratic society, the ability to protest provides the means by which the state determines the best course of action through the marketplace of ideas. Once the state determines the “right” course, however, all are obliged to obey. We see this in Immanuel Kant in his “What is Enlightenment” – an important document in the history of political liberalism. Kant speaks of the necessity of each individual to “use one’s own understanding without the guidance of another,” and therefore, the moral necessity of freedom – the ability of “a man of learning addressing the entire reading public.” Yet “in some affairs which affect the interests of the commonwealth, we require a certain mechanism whereby some members of the commonwealth must behave purely passively, so that they may, by an artificial common agreement, be employed by the government for public ends (or at least deterred from vitiating them). It is, of course, impermissible to argue in such cases; obedience is imperative.” For Kant, as for George W. Bush, there can only be one “Decider” – the head of the state whose moral authority is absolute as matter of law. Protest is fine; disobedience, however, cannot be tolerated.

If protest activism has no precedent in the Scriptures or early Christian history, if it displays the ability of liberal democratic regimes to justify the positions against which it is protesting, if it reinforces social impressions that moral decisions are mere subjective preferences, it seems to me that it is not prudent, in most circumstances, to focus the energy of members of congregations in such activities. Perhaps some members will want to be involved to stay informed on issues, to determine how the church might be involved in other ways consistent with its inner call.

What then about the mission of the church in the world? It seems to me that we look to the inner resources – exclusive faith in Christ manifested in works of mercy and love and the church’s non-coercive discipline over its own people through catechesis and, in extreme cases, excommunication.

In response, for instance, to the decision to invade Iraq, the appropriate Christian response would not be to issue a statement of condemnation, nor even to join in street protests. It would be to excommunicate any baptized Christians who played crucial roles in the decision: George Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfield, Condoleeza Rice, and other officials who played a key role in determining the attack. It would be to stop Christian officers and enlisted to participate in the attack.

But more, we see the importance of direct active involvement in the works of mercy and love for all members of a church, activities that we must refuse to acknowledge the legitimacy of the state to regulate such activities. The church must engage in direct action to feed the hungry, cloth the naked, etc. If global capitalism exploits the poor, we must discover ways of directly forming and sustaining businesses that pay just wages, care for the environment, contribute to a common good rather than the mere wealth of shareholders and CEO’s, develop health care systems where human beings rather than profit matter, which uses technology for proper care of humans, rather than humans as a means to develop new technologies for profit – in sustainable manners. Such things do not need organized through priests and pastors – you certainly don’t want me telling someone how they should draw blood or structure distribution systems. But they do involve Christians in the world, the mission of the church where we understand that we are the church. Nothing, however, will place the direct works of love.

Benedict XVI mentioned well this mission in his sermon from last Sunday. He reminds us that engaging in the works of love through nonviolence is not a utopian project. He spoke about the church as “islands” or “oases” of peace: “This communion exists; these ‘islands of peace’ exist in the Body of Christ. They exist. And forces of peace exist in the world. If we look at history, we can see the great saints of charity who have created ‘oases’ of this peace of God in the world, who have again lit their light, and have been able to reconcile and to create peace again. The martyrs exist who suffered with Christ; they have given this witness of peace, of love, which puts a limit to violence.”

He continues, “This is God's new way of conquering: He does not oppose violence with a stronger violence. He opposes violence precisely with the contrary: with love to the end, his cross. This is God's humble way of overcoming: With his love -- and only thus is it possible -- he puts a limit to violence. This is a way of conquering that seems very slow to us, but it is the true way of overcoming evil, of overcoming violence, and we must trust this divine way of overcoming.”

This slow way of divine patience, the divine way of overcoming, is that to which we must commit. It is this divine patience that we see in the faithful lives of those who have come before us, who in sole faith and devotion to Jesus Christ, have committed themselves to the works of mercy and love among those who are poor and suffering. These are our models. In so far as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. so called humans into life in the church through faith in Jesus and lived it out in a nonviolent non-participation in the racism of the United States, and active involvement in direct works of mercy, he represents one of the great cloud of witnesses which continues to surround us.

What about Dorothy Day? What about her involvement in marches, in labor strikes? She called such activities one of the spiritual works of mercy – instructing the ignorant. She did not show up merely to protest; rather she passed out papal encyclicals and the church’s social teachings about the responsibility of Christians to the poor, and to just wages. She called Christians to works of mercy through her own direction action; she insisted that such activities take place faithfulness to the church teachings. She did not consult political strategists, but the lives of the saints. To reduce Dorothy Day to a protest activist is to place her within the liberal democrat, capitalist system that never continually jailed her, but could not contain her. She was not a protest activist; she was a saint.

So for those Christians who gathered in Washington DC this week to lobby the US government to leave Israel unrestrained in its bombing in Lebanon, I suggest that they contact the Churches of the Nazarene in the area. That they take the money wasted to go to Washington DC, and send it to their brothers and sisters who can care for the needs of the saints in such dire conditions and also redistribute goods to others as a witness to the God who is love. I suggest that the rebuild the hospital in Israel struck by a Hezbollah missile, and maybe even volunteer to care for those injured in the bombings on all sides. I suggest that if they continue promoting war, that their local congregations excommunicate them. If clergy are among them, the groups to whom they are responsible should suspend their orders. Let us not be distracted from doing good out of faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, refusing the totalitarian claims of liberal democratic regimes and living our lives in quietness and holiness in fear of the Lord.

Posted by johnwright at 12:31 AM | Comments (5)

I have yet to comment on the mindless violence in Lebanon and Northern Israel. I had planned a rant this morning, but instead, found something much more profound. First, to follow the affairs, juancole.com is downright excellent. Professor Cole has personal connections in Lebanon; was recently there; and has a masterly command of the whole situation. His perspective is very different than the mainstream media and the US governments. The Israelis have planned this war for over a year, and when Hezbollah kidnapped the Israeli soldiers -- a string of kidnapping that began with Israeli soldiers taking two persons from Gaza, whose whereabouts is still unknown, the Israelis, with the full backing of the US, began their bombing. Though the media has not reported it, bombing raids have included Christian churches. Israel is conducting the raids to try to cut off the "Shia Cresent" from the Mediterranean Sea.

Second, this is related to Iraq. According to Juan Cole, the Dawa party, in exile from Iraq in the '90s, helped begin Hezbollah. With the rise of Shia power in Iraq, all the Sunnis in the Mideast who have controlled political processes in this region for the past half century, are very afraid of the rising coaltion of Shia power stretching from Iran through Iraq in to Syrian and Southern Lebanon.

Third, conservative evangelicals Christians in North America have mobilized to lobby for increasing the violence, and legitimating the violence. They seem to think that violence involving the state of Israel (very different from the Jews and the biblical Israel -- English translations of the Greek word "ethnos" into the English "nation" has done nothing but caused mischief for they are very different types of political entities) is an incubation ritual to force Jesus' return. Protestant Christians remain the United States chief warmongers -- all statistical data shows this. Their acceptance of the liberal nation-state and US/Israeli exceptionalism continues to cast an embarassing shadow over the world wide Christian witness. History will show this nearly as big of a scandal for Christian witness as the Deutsche Kirke in the first half of the 20th century.

I've been thinking and praying for a response. Maybe that's my problem -- I've been thinking reactively. I do have an address to send money to the American University in Beirut where they are setting up humanitarian aide -- if persons can get there without being bombed; maybe we should send some money to funds in Northern Israel as well for the Israelis as they deal with the war crimes of Hezbollah's random missiles sent on civilian populations. The war is grossly unjust in Christian reasoning at all levels, by all parties.

It was hot here and humid in the middle of the night. It woke me up, and I came down to the internet. I went to Zenit.org/english and saw that Benedict XVIth had a sermon posted from last weeks Ephesians reading. I want to cut and paste it into this post. Benedict here reads the Scriptures profoundly well; John Howard Yoder could not have said this better; it makes Stanley Hauerwas' sermons sound like George Weigel. Here is the Bishop of Rome stating clearly that the way of Jesus Christ, the way of God's response to the violence of the world is the church, called together in the Eucharist, as a oasis of peace scattered through direct action in works of love throughout the world. Our response is God's call for evangelism, to call people to the God who is Love as seen in Jesus Christ to faith in this very particular Jesus. The Pope even uses the n-word in his sermon -- nonviolence as the means by which God conquers the violence of the world.

This is an incredibly profound sermon, remarkable, moving. Benedict chose his name to promote peace in the world. He recognizes that this peace, Christian peace, can only emerge in a commitment in faith to Jesus Christ and therefore, the God of Love who has defeated death, not with retaliatory death, but through non-violent love.

Here is a translation of the address Benedict XVI delivered last Sunday during a ceremony for Mideast peace over which he presided in the church of Rhemes-Saint-Georges in the Aosta Valley.

* * *

I only wish to offer some brief words of meditation on the reading we have heard. With the background of the tragic situation of the Middle East, we are moved by the beauty of the vision illustrated by the Apostle Paul (cf. Ephesians 2:13-18): Christ is our peace. He has reconciled one another, Jews and pagans, uniting them in his Body. He has overcome the enmity with his Body, on the cross. With his death, he has overcome the enmity and has united us all in his peace.

However, more than the beauty of this vision, we are impressed by the contrast with the reality that we experience and see. And, initially, we can do no more than ask the Lord: "But, Lord, what is your apostle saying to us: 'They have been reconciled'?" In reality, we see that they are not reconciled. … There is still war between Christians, Muslims, Jews; and others foment war and all continues full of enmity, of violence. Where is the efficacy of your sacrifice? Where in history is this peace of which your apostle speaks to us?

We men cannot resolve the mystery of history, the mystery of human freedom that says "no" to the peace of God. We cannot resolve the whole mystery of the relationship between God and man, of his action and our response. We must accept the mystery. However, there are elements of response that the Lord offers us.

A first element is that this reconciliation of the Lord, this sacrifice of his, is not without efficacy. There is the great reality of the communion of the universal Church, of all peoples, the network of Eucharistic Communion, which transcends the frontiers of cultures, civilizations, peoples and times.

This communion exists; these "islands of peace" exist in the Body of Christ. They exist. And forces of peace exist in the world. If we look at history, we can see the great saints of charity who have created "oases" of this peace of God in the world, who have again lit their light, and have been able to reconcile and to create peace again. The martyrs exist who suffered with Christ; they have given this witness of peace, of love, which puts a limit to violence.

And, seeing that the reality of peace exists, though the other reality persists, we can reflect further on the message of this Letter of St. Paul to the Ephesians. The Lord has conquered on the cross. He has not conquered with a new empire, with a force that is more powerful than others, capable of destroying them; he has not conquered in a human manner, as we imagine, with an empire stronger than the other. He has conquered with a love capable of going to death.

This is God's new way of conquering: He does not oppose violence with a stronger violence. He opposes violence precisely with the contrary: with love to the end, his cross. This is God's humble way of overcoming: With his love -- and only thus is it possible -- he puts a limit to violence. This is a way of conquering that seems very slow to us, but it is the true way of overcoming evil, of overcoming violence, and we must trust this divine way of overcoming.

To trust means to enter actively in this divine love, to participate in this endeavor of pacification, to be in line with what the Lord says: "Blessed are the peacemakers, the agents of peace, because they are the sons of God." We must take, in the measure of our possibilities, our love to all those who are suffering, knowing that the Judge of the Last Judgment identifies himself with those who suffer.

Therefore, what we do to those who suffer, we do to the Last Judge of our life. This is important: At this moment we can take his victory to the world, taking part actively in his charity. Today, in a multicultural and multireligious world, many are tempted to say: "For peace in the world, among religions, among cultures, it is better not to speak too much of what is specific to Christianity, that is, of Jesus, of the Church, of the sacraments. Let us be content with what can be more or less common .…"

But it is not true. Precisely at this time, a time of great abuse of the name of God, we have need of the God who overcomes on the cross, who does not conquer with violence, but with his love. Precisely at this time we have need of the Face of Christ to know the true Face of God and so be able to take reconciliation and light to this world. For this reason, together with love, with the message of love, we must also take the testimony of this God, of God's victory, precisely through the nonviolence of his cross.

In this way, we return to the starting point. What we can do is to give witness of love, witness of faith and, above all, to raise a cry to God: We can pray! We are certain that our Father hears the cry of his children. In the Mass, as we prepare for holy Communion, to receive the Body of Christ that unites us, we pray with the Church: "Deliver us, Lord, from all evils, and grant us peace in our days." May this be our prayer at this time: "Deliver us from all evils and give us peace," not tomorrow, or the day after: Lord, give us peace today! Amen.

[Translation by ZENIT]

Posted by johnwright at 9:02 AM | Comments (4)

I'm sorry about my tardiness. This week has had pastor/teachers from the PLNU region on campus to talk about their ministerial training program with PLNU faculty. I had some responsibilities in a couple of sessions and tried to be available and meet these good people. Yet the day has gotten by! It interesting that last nights session overlapped with this coming Sundays readings!

On first sight, it seems that the lectionary links the OT reading most with the Epistle, rather than the Gospel. You'll have to see how you hear the texts speaking with each other.

1 Kings 2:1-15

There are three different human "characters" in this passage: Elijah, Elisha, and a group of prophets, and the scene is repeated three times. Describe the movements of Elijah and Elisha -- and the prophets at the given places. What takes place at the Jordan River that is different? What other biblical scenes come to mind? How do these scenes help tell you what is taking place? What happens to the mantel that divided the waters? Why is this significant? What has happened to Eiljah's clothing? Whose clothing is left? What does this mantle become? What is "the spirit of Elijah"?

Ephesians 4:1-7,11-16

What is the life worthy of the calling to which you have been called? What do the moral instructions have to do with this command? Why does the text then make the declarative statements about what is one? What/who is the end of this Oneness?

Given this oneness, what does the passage say about the division into gifts? What is the relationship between unity and difference? What is the role of leadership in the church? What is the ultimate goal for all the saints? How does this relate to the life worthy of the call?

After the call to unity, there is nonetheless a discimination about a common doctrine. What is the relationship between doctrine, unity, and difference of gifts? Why must we "speak the truth in love" to build the whole body? What is the goal of this all?
.

Mark 6:45-52

Jesus moves fast in the Gospel of Mark. Review real quickly what's already happened. What does Jesus do? What happens to the crowd, Jesus, and the disciples? What does the water represent to the disciples? When does the danger cease? How does this relate to when Jesus speaks? How do the disciples respond? Why? Can you think of anyone else whose heart was hardened?

For me the easiest text to enter is the Ephesians passage. Yet in some ways I can see its relationship to the OT and the Gospel in the figures of discipleship -- how Elijah becomes a type of Christ and Elisha the disciples; how the unity and difference that nonetheless keeps a focus for witness as the body of Christ comes through in the Ephesians passage. In some sense one sees that unity, difference of gifts and difference from others are all for the purpose of mission of the body of Christ, and that Elisha and the twelve present two different models of discipleship. Maybe you can struggle with this issue of unity in difference in mission that nonetheless keeps discipleship as the following of Jesus, rather than being blown about by every wind of doctrine.

Peace to you all! I'm sorry again for being so late in posting.

Peace,
John

Posted by johnwright at 5:18 PM | Comments (1)

Today I finally have gotten around to working on the conclusion of my upcoming book for Intervarsity Press, now officially titled, Telling God's Story: Narrative Preaching for Christian Formation. The book will soon be proceeding to the copy editor as soon as I write the conclusion. I waited to write the conclusion once the body had passed through all editorial stages.

I thought that I would post the draft of the introduction to my last chapter today -- since I've been working on it amidst the heat today. I do so, not only to elicit comments, but because it comes to the core of the mission of, not only my work, but local congregations, particularly our congregation at Mid-City. I think that it describes some of the tensions we sometimes experience because of our commitment to the poor and because, unlike so many Nazarene and evangelical churches, we refuse to allow the social, political, and even theological agenda of the conservative evangelicals guide us.

We harken back to a much older Christian tradition than that which divides so much of the contemporary North American Christianity, a division that is based actually on a much deeper commonality that rends the difference in certain ways. Thus, we just as distant from Jim Dobson as we are from Jim Wallis; from Pat Robinson as we are from Michael Lerner. If we are just as distant, we are also just as close to each as well. Yet the goal is never to react to these various poles determined by presuppositions that they share in common, but to act from the presupposition of the Triune God's creation of all things good in the very image of the Triune God and the restoration of this creation through Jesus Christ and the on-going life of the church.

I have found myself recently drawn to Augustine, both as a theologian, biblical scholar, and pastor, because he was profoundly all three, even as he was only one person. He provides a model of the unity of these vocations, that have become split by modernist institutions. Of course I cannot simply return to these days -- nor do I so desire. Yet there is something crucial in his life and witness for us to recover today. It is thus to him that I am looking for the conclusion of my book.

Chapter 6
Conclusion

Two fundamentally different approaches to the mission of the church have arisen in North America in recent years. One approach looks first to the world to determine the agenda for the church. The givenness of the world allows the church to refashion its inner resources and spiritual life to meet more effectively the world’s needs as determined by the present age. The other approach looks first to the inner resources and spiritual life of the church and then to the world. The church learns to engage the world from within its own inner life so that the witness of the church might call the church herself and the world to a profound conversion arising out of the faith given to the saints through the ages.

These two different approaches can overlap in practice at key points, depending on particular traditions and particular cultural and social contexts. Both agree that we should not insulate the church from the world, nor that the church should abandon its own resources and traditions. The two understandings can even approach each other in specific areas according to the relative weight that one puts on the church’s inner resources and/or on the contemporary setting. Yet even as these approaches can and do approach each other in practice, a deep underlying fault nonetheless remains.

If we look closely, we can see that this difference runs throughout North American Christianity in its evangelical, mainline Protestant, and Roman Catholic manifestations. Evangelicals tend to dispute this difference in their assessment of the church growth movement, its application, and underlying theological convictions. Mainline Protestants dispute the issue in terms of liberationist or confessional agendas, between liberal or postliberal theological convictions. Within Roman Catholicism, one experiences this difference in disputes between those seeking accommodation and influence within their contemporary national environment versus those in the new religious movements such as Communion and Liberation who seek a type of catholicity that transcends the merely locality of time and space in a communion of the saints under the bishop of Rome.

This book enters this on-going dispute. We have argued that preaching must first and foremost call people into the inner life of the church in Christ to guide congregations to witness to the world, to call the world, and individuals within it, to God in and through Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit. To allow the North American culture, history, presuppositions, and institutions to form the fundamental categories of our preaching is to sell the farm before putting it on the market.

In many ways the church has always functioned within this tension for its mission. To conclude the book we would like to look at a master theologian and preacher who wrote the first “preaching manual” in the church – Augustine, bishop of Hippo. Augustine did the bulk of his theological work as a pastor. Amidst his letters, one even finds complaints concerning the mundane busyness of overseeing the church that kept him from the intellectual and spiritual tasks that he preferred -- complaints to which any contemporary pastor could add a hearty “Amen!” In his preaching Augustine deeply engaged the rhetoric of his age; yet even as he did, he redirected the goal of preaching, much as we have argued, so that his congregation, and all Christian congregations, might find themselves as characters participating in God’s redemption of the world through Christ and the church.

Posted by johnwright at 1:26 PM | Comments (8)

Our readings for this coming Sunday are again very moving. The key to reading them is recognizing the biblical categories for humanity: (1) One humanity, created good in the image of the Triune God seen in its fullness in Jesus Christ; (2) the fragmentation of this human solidarity into various groupings by the fall and human sinfulness that affects us and in which we participate; (3) with the promise to Abram, the basic division of Israel, the heirs of the promise, the Jews, and the rest of humanity, the Gentiles; and (4) the renewal of one humanity in common solidarity through the Jewish Messiah, Jesus Christ in which the categories fall away amidst the church as a sign for the renewal of the solidarity of humanity at the end of all things in God.

Yet even as we nowexperience the vestiges of #1 in every human, we also experience the results of #2 in #3 and #4. This is why the OT reading is an important background to hear the necessity of the call in the Epistle reading. The Gospel reading continues to push on and describe the mission of Jesus in response to his disciples engaging in mission.

Isaiah 57:14b-21

To understand Isaiah 57, it might be good to go back to Isaiah 40:1-5. As the book of Isaiah unfolds, Isaiah 57 presupposes this text and calls forth Israel to continue that task that God has begun in Isaiah 40. The key passage between the two is Isaiah 53, where the suffering servant gives his life so that his followers might continue in the task of Isaiah 40.

What is the command given to Israel here? How does it relate to Isaiah 40:1-5. The rest of the passage comes as the direct Word of God, describing God's "preferences" amidst Israel. Who is God in the passage? Where does God dwell? How is this related to the command at the beginning of the passage? Who received God's judgment? Why? What is God's ultimate intent to bring about the preparing the way? Why is there no peace for the wicked?

Ephesians 2:11-22

Why should this passage begin with a call to "remember"? To whom is the call given? What is it exactly that they should remember? Why should they remember? What sort of response does that elicit? The passage hinges on the "But now". What is the difference? How did this group move from one to another? What has Christ done? For whom has Christ done this? How does the passage summarize Jesus Christ's mission on earth? What is the result of Jesus' life, death and resurrection now for us? To whom has Jesus joined us? What has happened to our citizenship? With whom do we live in solidarity? What do the apostles and prophets have to do with it? What then has God made us in Christ?

Mark 6:30-44

Why would Jesus, following the return of the disciples from their mission, call them away with him to a deserted place? What does this tell us? What is the role of reflection, contemplation in our lives? How is it related to the above passages? What then happens and how does Jesus respond? Why? How do the disciples respond? Follow the dialogue between Jesus and the disciples. What is the significance of the ending of the passage?

How does the Gospel reading relate to the above passages? How do we prepare the way? What is the relationship between the mission of the people of God and the necessity for contemplation? Do you notice who initiates the call to contemplation/rest? Who intiates the call to action?

Have a wonderful time together!

Posted by johnwright at 8:48 AM | Comments (0)

In North American society, whenever you hear the word "freedom", the term carries with it massive theological and moral presuppositions that shape us in ways that make Christian discipleship more difficult. How the term functions within a liberal democratic political order such as the United States makes the world more violent and concentrates the world's material goods more and more in the hands of the wealthy. The word as used brings forth deep positive emotions in Americans, and has been used to justify war in the 20th century and now in the early 21st century.

To challenge "freedom" might end one up with the NSA listening to phone conversations. It is exactly what Zizek helped me see in the last post. Yet we know that we live in strange, yet wonderful days, when we can find nearly an identical thoughts shared between an atheist, post-Freudian, post-Marxist Eastern European nihilistic philosopher and a "conservative" Roman Catholic theologian who works as an expositor of John Paul II and Vatican II. What I'd like to share is some comments on David L. Schindler's interaction with the liberal concept of "freedom" in his excellent and important book, Heart of the World, Center of the Church.

Schindler is asking in the work, "Did Vatican II signal accomodation to liberal political institutions and liberal philosophical presuppositions after a century and a half of opposition?" This is a great difference historically between Roman Catholicism and Protestantism. While Protestants quickly accomodated to liberal thought and institutions, Roman Catholicism recognized profound theological differences between the Christian tradition and the liberal tradition. Unfortunately, this led Roman Catholicism to support authoritarian regimes who used their coercive power to empower the life of the church. Schindler argues correctly that Vatican II completely renounced such use of coercive power by the church. Ironically, it now is conservative evangelical Protestants who seek to associate with right wing regimes to use the state's authority to pursue their theological and moral agendas -- it has replaced pre-Vatican II Roman Catholic in undertaking such agendas.

Does this mean that the Church is completely at home in liberal societies? Schindler argues "no!" and does so by a careful analysis of the concept of freedom. Schindler argues that "liberalism cannot so easily claim the moral authority of Catholicism, and, at the same time, to indicate why an increasing liberal hegemony throughout the world should be viewed not altogether with favor but, on the contrary, with a certain alarm" (p. 32), His argument is that "the achievements of liberalism are in fact mediated by an ideology. . . . Liberalism invites us to adopt only its freedom and its institutions while (putatively) permitting us to supply our own theories which will give meaning to freedom and free institutions; but liberalism does so -- paradoxically -- all the while hiding the very theory (of liberalism) which alone justifies this (purported) extrinsic relation between freedom institution and theory. In fact, this very extrinsic relation, which is taken to guarantee a supposedly 'empty freedom,' already embodies a definite, though hidden, conception of human nature and destiny" (pp. 33-34). Thus liberalism "draws us into a con game, inviting us to dialogue within the (putatively) open and pluralistic market of religions, all thewhile having, hiddenly, filled the terms of that dialogue with a liberal theory of religion" (p. 44).

We are free to practice our religion as long as our religion fits the definitions given to us by the liberal categories. We find this all the time in Mid-City, especially in working with the poor and immigrants, where the state that ensures "our freedom of religion" wants to regulate who and how we distribute goods and care for the poor and the stranger. As Schindler, like Zizek argues, "the liberal appeal to religious pluralism hides its own 'monism'; the liberal appeal to religious freedom hides its own definite truth about the nature of religion" (p. 44) -- simply, that "religion" is about private belief and therefore bears no rationality nor 'truth'. Religion is an inner fact of consciousness, not an external means of bodily action that rightly disposes us to God, as it was so understood by Aquinas.

Thus "freedom" takes on a "purely formal" definition (p. 66) that restricts actual freedom. As Schindler argues, "Either the juridical claim that it implies positive openness to God; or the juridical definition does carry the implication of positive openness to God, in which case it does not remain purely formal" (p. 66). Schindler sees the same dynamics within liberalism as Zizek (and independent of him), dynamics that hurt Christians who support a state that works with a strictly formal definitions of freedom, a notion that really does deny actual freedom as Zizek argues. Those who are most "unfree" are actually those who believe that they are most free by adopting a liberal, formal notion of freedom that does not allow one to see the authorities that really shape one's life. As Schindler argues, "Failure to be clear about this implies nothing less than the paradox of imparting a truth about freedom unconsciously and blindly -- and just so far unfreely:" (. 67).

What this means is that a genuine concept of freedom cannot bracket a concept of truth -- by definition. Like Ragu pasta sauce, truth is already "in there" when one speaks freedom. Some concept of truth is already embedded whenever freedom is announced -- whether it be the truth that is Jesus Christ or the truth that is the authority of the state. We cannot, nor do we really want to, disassociate an understanding of "freedom from" from a positive notion of freedom as a "freedom for."

Is this a call for a return of a totalitarian state? Of course not. It is a recognition, however, that we already live in a totalitarian state -- ask the poor. Ask Marcos Rodriguez who was ticketed this fall for falling asleep at a picnic table in Balboa park. Ask Dave and Bob who have their goods stolen from them by CalTrans and receive tickets early in the morning for littering because they do not have funds to get into housing. Ask the Center City Community Development Corporation if you can start a place for a church in the new development in downtown San Diego in order to welcome the poor into San Diego. It is a recognition that speaking and acting out of a "religious pluralism" or as "people of faith" is not pluralistic at all because it takes away our freedom for confessing that God really is Father, Son, and Spirit; Lover, Beloved, and Love, eternally so.

This is why we have to keep with direct action by being freed by liberal understandings of freedom so that we might live for the freedom of the Gospels, a freedom of love of God manifested in personal engagement in the works of mercy. It is why we must hearily embrace the most important, basic freedom from is not formal at all, but a freedom from sin, the freedom of Mary to say, "Let it be, Lord, as you wish."

It is fascinating how John Paul II speaks like one from within the Wesleyan-Holiness tradition in the "Instruction on Christian Freedom and Liberation". As Schindler summarizes, "the ethical dimension of the task of liberation presupposes, and must be integrated within, liberation 'in its primary meaning, which is salvific' (n. 99) -- and which is thus a matter of redemption from sin by Jesus Christ (n. 99). Indeed, slavery to sin is the deepest root of all other forms of slavery in the cultural, economic, social, and political spheres (ICATL, Introduction). This sin is always primarily personal in nature, but in a derived sesne it is also applicable to structures (ICFL, n. 75). Liberation from slavery to sin takes the positive form of a path toward lolve; hence it entails working 'for the conversion of hearts and for the improvement of structures' (ICFL, n. 75), in short, for a 'civilization of love' (ICFL, n. 99). ICATL summarizes thus by saying, with Paul VI and John Paul II, that any authentic theology of liberation will rest upon the three pillars of 'truth about Jesus Christ, truth about the church, and truth about mankind' (V, 8)" (p. 90). Thus, "the Gospel call to the perfect love that constitutes holiness remains in place, however much the concrete working out of that love must be further developed in terms of the different concrete circumstances of one's life and culture" (p. 92).

Here is the difference between Zizek and the faith given to the saints. Zizek ultimately falls back beyond his criticism of liberal notions of freedom to the Real behind the real as the excremental, that which is left over. For Schindler, and the church, real freedom is found in the God who is Love, eternally so, who calls us to participate in God as Love in loving God and thus neighbor, who gives us ultimately a reason for a freedom for, rather than merely criticizing a freedom from. Perhaps this is why Zizek argues that one has to pass through Christianity today in order to see possibilities other than the "new world order of a freedom from" violently imposed upon the peoples of the earth to direct local goods towards global markets for the profits of a few. Yet one wonders why one would pass through the gospels without allowing oneself to be freed for the God who so loved the world that God gave the only-begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have ever lasting life?

Posted by johnwright at 11:27 AM | Comments (0)

I think that I am finally coming up for air after my Scotland trip. I have much to blog on in the coming weeks -- I hope that I can post over other day or so. I imagine that I've lost readership -- and rightly so. But I will try to write some reflections on readings and experiences especially as they interact with faithfulness in Christian witness amidst the contemporary culture of the United States for our congregation and through it, to others.

On the plane going over to Scotland, I read a little book by Slavoj Zizek -- a post-Marxist, post-Freudian Eastern Europian philosopher. I find his writings a bit random, yet filled with insight at certain times. He is an atheist, a type of nihilist that sees transcendence as excrement -- yet his cultural analysis, particular his critique of types of purportedly avant-garde post-modernity and post-modern "spirituality" is very good. He is also particularly acute in his criticism of the political and ideological liberalism that seems "natural" in todays world.

I'd like to quote and comment on the quote from his short book, On Belief. In it he rightfully criticizes the liberal notion of the liberal "freedom of choice." He rightfully calls "freedom of choice" as "the very nerve center of the liberal ideology" (p. 116). Freedom of choice is what mobilizes the United States army in Afghanistan and Iraq to "free" persons from their "traditional societies" and allow them to chose Coke or Pepsi, rock-n-roll or rap. The Christian tradition calls such notions as "Pelagianism". Yet Zizek sees that this conception is "grounded in the notion of the 'psychological' subject endowed with propensities he or she strives to realize" (p. 116) -- a psychology of a certain type of human will, not ordered to the Good, but to psychological preference.

He argues that such an understanding makes "it all the more necessary today to REASSERT the opposition of 'formal' and 'actual' freedom in a new, more precise sense." While we think we have a formal freedom to chose, like we can rise beyond our concrete material environment in which we live by a strength of will to power -- we are all Nietzcheans at heart. At any rate he quotes a pyschological experiment from France. Zizek summarizes: "Repeated experiments estalbished the following paradox: if, AFTER getting from two groups of volunteers the agreement to participate in an experiment, one informs them that the experiment will involve something unpleasant, against their ethics eve, and if, at this point, one reminds the first gruop that they have the free choice to say no, and says nothing to the other group, in BOTH groups, the SAME (very high) percentage will agree to continue their participation in the experiment.
What this means is that conferring the formal freedom of choice does not make any difference: those given the freedom will do the same things as those (implicitly) denied it. . . . those given the freedom to choose will not only tend to choose the same as theose denied it; they will tend to 'rationalize' their 'free' decision to continue to participate in the experiment . . . they will tend to change their opinions about the act they were asked to accomplish. (p. 117)

Thus by emphasizing formal freedom, liberalism actually masks the concrete freedoms, the actual freedom, the freedom to act differently in a certain situation than authorities dictate. As Zizek says, "'liberal' subjects are in a way those least free: they change the very opinion/perceptoin of themselves, accepting what was IMPOSED on them as originating in their 'nature' -- they are even no longer AWARE of their subordination" (p. 120).

This is the difference between liberal freedom and Gospel freedom. Gospel freedom is an actual freedom; freedom from the "psychological subject" with its self-determined needs to an actual freedom to live concretely for Christ in a particular situation, even to not conform to the world, and therefore, to receive the transformation of one's mind so then one might know the good and perfect will of God, and thus, to become who we really are in God. The Spirit frees us to live in Christ within the world, but not of the world.

Zizek recognizes this difference of Christianity. Although he does not believe, he calls forth the faithfulness of witness of the church as necessary in the contemporary world that labors under the false formal freedom of the liberal subject.

Posted by johnwright at 8:34 AM | Comments (4)

These readings provide a fascinating combination when read in dialogue with each other. The Amos passage is daunting and frightening -- and justly so. The Ephesians passage visions God''s purpose for us as created in God's image. The Gospel passage gives a positive mission of re-presenting Jesus as the one who begins the kingdom of God. Together they give us a wide vision of our live in this "between time" from our beginning and end in God through Christ by the Spirit's power.

Amos 7:7-15

We live in a day of what Alasdair MacIntyre calls, "emotivism." It is that morality is found only as the subjective desires, or values, of individuals or groups. No one can rationally criticise my "values" or my "perspective" or my "desires" or my "emotions" or my "beliefs". Most of life, except that found in the organizations that employ, pay, and govern us, therefore, exist in this arational realm. Liberals, in our society, wish to protect this "emotivism" -- by appealing to the law of the nation-state. Conservatives often call this a "moral relativism"; of course, their only response is to submit to the authority of the nation-state, to manipulate "law" to force compliance -- ironically, without recognizing that the cause of this emotivism is itself the power of the state to dictate law. What is interesting is that the Amos passage, the plumb line is about the king as the "law".

Amos here uses the vision of a plumb line -- a construction device to keep walls straight so that they might sustain the structural integrity of the building. What does the use of this plumb line suggest? Why is refusing the moral/theological judgments of the king treason according to Amaziah? What is Amos saying about the legitimacy of Jeroboam? What is the result for Israel? Why does Amos deny the office of a prophet? What is his mission?

Again, with whom do we identify in this passage? What happens if you shift characters to be Amaziah? What is his concern? Jeroboam? WIth Israel?

Ephesians 1:1-14

Note to whom the letter is written. One of the differences in reading the OT and the NT is that the NT is more directive in identifying our place in the text. The "us" here is us, as long as we are the "saints who are faithful in Christ Jesus" (it is interesting that "Christ here functions as a title of an office in its word order, "Messiah Jesus" or "King Jesus". Yet the blessing goes to tell us that this Jesus is not merely Jewish king, but the One in whom God the Father chose us before the foundation of the world.

According to the blessing, what is the end or purpose for which God elected us before our creation? What do we have "in the Beloved"? Where has God made known to us the mystery, the secret of God's will? If "all things" are to be "gathered up in Christ," what is the purpose of our purpose? Why should we live to praise Christ's glory, and why must this take place in hope? The seal of the Spirit at the end of the passage most likely refers to the anointing of oil after baptism. Why would baptism be "a pledge of our inheritance toward redemption as God's own people"? Into whom is one baptize? Who does this related to our purpose and to the purpose of Christ?

Mark 6: 7-13

The sending of the twelve here has Jesus sending them out as his representatives, doing the exact same things that Jesus has been doing up to this point. Why does he send them out in poverty, without surplus goods? How are they to react to rejection? Why? What do the disciples exactly? What is the relationship between their calling for repentance and their anointing and healing? What is the mission of the disciples?

I was working out yesterday, and overheard a woman talking about what she really hoped for in life -- to visit Venice, to ride on a gondola. These passages give us the biggest vision of our lives, their origin and their end, from whence we came and for what reason we are. What do they say about our lives here "in the middle". How do we engage people who lives in a world that has taught them what really matters is "what they want, to want it deeply, no matter what it is"? How do we engage in this mission as one's called in Christ before the foundations of the world to be sent out into the world to re-present him?

Have a wonderful evening. I hope to be blogging quite regularly now that I'm back and almost caught up!

Posted by johnwright at 8:59 AM | Comments (0)

I miss everyone. I'm on a line bought in my hotel room in Scotland. A friend, and ex-student, Jeremy Gabrielson, is coming by soon. He's studying at St. Andrewes in NT. Meanwhile the conference has gone well. My paper was well received. But I am looking forward to finally finishing last semester and getting into a non-pressured flow of life.

The post-Christian feel of Edinburo is remarkable. Churches are now hostels, condos; the mosque is brand new. There are palm readers and magic shops. The society seems not really to be secular, but to be defined as "not practicing Christian" rather in an anti-Christian mode (defined by Christianity) or by not really caring except in the most general cultural manner. I don't think that I will be able to read these Scriptures without these in mind. It seems to me that Europe is a warning for Christians in the US, both evangelicals and mainline who want to identify the faith given to the saints with the "American experiment." I'll blog more on this when I get home -- late tomorrow night!

Ezekiel 2:1-7

Nation in this text does not mean "nation-state." It means, a people grouping, a large kinship group. Who is the nation of rebels? What is the difference between that nation of rebels and their descendants? What is the prophets task? Is it guaranteed to work? Is the task dependent upon the reception? Why would the prophet fear these people? Who are the scorpions among whom they live?

Now reading this passage it makes a big difference if one identifies with the prophet or identifies with the people. Read it through identifying with the prophet. What does the passage say? Read it through identifying with the nation. What does the passage say? Which is more appropriate for us as a congregation?

2 Corinthians 12:2-10

I once had a professor who wrote his dissertation at the University of Chicago on this passage. It is a complicated passage -- probably a description of an "ascent vision" that Paul had. Given the gift of this vision, why does Paul have a thorn in the flesh? (the nature of which, btw, has been the subject of much, much speculation over the centuries!). Does God deliver Paul from this thorn? Does Paul therefore lack faith? What is God's concern for Paul? Why is weakness good? How can one be strong while weak? Is this a contradiction or a paradox? Why is God's power made perfect in weakness? Where do Christians see this? Why do we seek power rather than weakness? Why is Paul context with the list of events at the end of the passage? What does this say about our intent in the world? Do Christians live to control the world? How then should we live?

Mark 6:1-6

Where is the setting of the story? Look back through Mark and quickly list what Jesus has done up to this point. Are the questions the people ask positive or negative? Why do the people among whom Jesus grew up then take offense at him? Is Jesus surprised? Why or why not? Again, belief seems to me to mean "loyalty" in the NT. Why would loyalty to Jesus mean that he was not able to heal, except a few? What is Jesus' response to the rejection?

A third option in the Ezekiel passage is to see Ezekiel, "the son of Man" as a type of Jesus Christ as seen in Mark. How would these correspond? If so, where does that place us?

Why is it that familiarity breeds contempt? How does one keep from falling prey to such a familiarity -- kind of like Scotland has with Christianity that leads to rejection of the faith?

I hope you have a wonderful time together. I am looking forward to gathering with all again very soom.

Peace,
John

Posted by johnwright at 5:13 AM | Comments (0)