Remember my chains.
~ Paul in the Epistle to the Colossians
I wonder, when I read this passage, how it is that we today remember Paul's chains. Do we remember Paul's chains and thank God that we are not persecuted for our faith or do we remember Paul's chains and wonder why it is that we fit so comfortably into the society around us? Do we even remember Paul's chains at all? Why is it that we are not struck by the oddity of the fact that Paul — who said such supposedly positive things about the state in Romans 13 and who wasn't afraid to appeal to his Roman citizenship when he found it to be useful — spent so much time in prison and ended up being executed by the Roman authorities? Sure, Jesus had to die to save the world, but what the hell happened with Paul?
Here's the thing: Jesus wasn't killed to save the world — nobody killed Jesus thinking “hey, I'll kill this guy and that way everybody who believes in him will go to heaven.” Perhaps God ended up using Jesus' death for greater things but none of Jesus' executioners were in on the plan. Ultimately, Jesus was killed because the political authorities identified him as a rebel — which is why he was crucified (crucifixion was the form of execution that Rome liked to use upon those who tried to rebel against her power). Furthermore, Paul's death, and his chains, were not accidental or incidental to his understanding of what it means to live as a follower of Jesus. Indeed, if one spends any time reading Paul, one quickly discovers that he seems to think that suffering, and specifically political persecution and oppression, is essential to the Christian identity.
Thus I remember Paul's chains and I wonder about our lack of chains. But then I remember the American Mennonites who have been jailed because they refused to pay taxes — because all those who pay taxes in America support the war in Iraq and these Mennonites felt that they could not, as Christians and as Mennonites, sponsor that war (or any war). Consequently they have been jailed. I remember the chains of Paul and I remember the chains of our Mennonite brothers and sisters and I still maintain hope for our North American church.
God, help us to remember Paul's chains. Help us to remember the chains of our brothers and sisters. Help us to remember the chains that await us if we end up faithfully following Jesus. And help us to find our current lack of chains to be shocking and odd. Convert us, Lord, to the type of life the ends up in chains. Ad majorem Dei gloriam — Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

To understand a proposition means to know what is the case if it is true.
(One can understand it, therefore, without knowing whether it is true.)
It is understood by anyone who understands its constituents.
~ Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 4.024
In relation to this particular point, I am not sure whether or not I am entirely in agreement with Wittgenstein. Here is why I think I disagree:
I am inclined to accept Wittgenstein's initial statement that understanding a proposition means knowing what is the case if that proposition is true. However, I have trouble with the next two statements because I am inclined to believe that to know what the case is if any proposition is true requires us to experience something of that case. Or, to translate that into more Christian language, knowledge of the truth is premised upon an encounter with the truth. Thus, I am inclined to argue that there is actually no understanding of a proposition that is not true, for one cannot even understand a proposition's constituents apart from an encounter with the truth, and false propositions cannot provide such an encounter. All false propositions are as comprehensible as the statement, “this circle is a square.” Furthermore, apart from an encounter with the truth, what we imagine the case to be if a certain proposition is true, and what the case actually ends up being if a certain proposition is true, will always end up being radically different.

“I still maintain that what I have written is harmless in one respect. No believer will let himself [sic] be led astray from his faith by these or any similar arguments… But there are undoubtedly countless other people who are not in the same sense believers. They obey the precepts of civilization because they let themselves be intimidated by the threats of religion… They are the people who break away as soon as they are allowed to give up their belief in the reality-value of religion.”
~ Sigmund Freud, The Future of an Illusion
Within The Future of an Illusion, Freud makes his argument that reason, and not religion (which is understood to be an “illusion” — i.e. that which is primarily motivated by wish-fulfillment, regardless of its relation to reality), should become that which forms and structures human “culture/civilization” (both of those words — culture and civilization — are captured in the German term 'Kultur' which Freud employs throughout). Religion, perhaps a neurosis necessary to infantile humanity, has served its purpose and now must be transcended — just as children often overcome their neuroses as they transition to adulthood — so that civilization may continue to better conquer the forces of nature and better govern the way in which people relate to one another. Science, of course, is the dominate means offered as the proper alternative to religion, although Freud recognizes that science cannot make any definitive statement on the grand topics that religion attempts to address. However, Freud argues that science should not attempt to answer these questions, and a mature and intelligent humanity should not be troubled by this. (By the by, it is interesting to note that Wittgenstein ,in his Tractatus, comes to a very similar conclusion about language. He concludes that language is useful to discuss daily practicalities, but it is not at all useful for the discussion of the grand themes of philosophy. Therefore, Wittgenstein concludes, “What we cannot speak about we must pass over in silence.”)
In the passage cited above, Freud anticipates the negative reaction that Christians will have to this book and, to a certain extent, he tries to assuage their fears. It it interesting to try to evaluate Freud's words from the perspective gained within a “postmodern” Christian context — especially considering the ongoing demonization of Freud within the Christian community.
So, my question is this: is Freud right? Did Christians really have nothing to worry about? After all, don't many postmodern Christians see the secularization of society as a good thing? Didn't the secularization process simply reveal that a large contingent of those who were declared to be “Christian” actually weren't Christian at all but merely accepted the label because “Christianity” had become a social norm? If this is so, shouldn't we be thanking Freud for deconstructing Christianity as a punitive social power and thereby allowing a more genuine form of Christianity to emerge? Is there now room for a more gracious reading of Freud's reflections on religion?
Anybody want to answer these questions?

Just an unformed idea that I've been thinking about researching:
(1) As the Church universal became increasingly corrupt, the nation state arose and was offered as the true society and that which held salvation.
(2) As the nation state became increasingly corrupt, the nuclear family became increasingly the focus of social interaction and well-being.
(3) As the nuclear family became increasingly corrupt, the individual became the focus of life (that is now lived in a state of “homelessness” and solitude).
(4) Individualism leads to nihilism and the collapse of meaning.
(5) The movement from the corruption of the Church to the State to the family to the nihilism of individualism was the inevitable outworking of a single trajectory. That is to say, as soon as the church collapses all other social bodies are bound to fail and we will only be left alone,homeless, and in the pursuit of ever-elusive meaning.
(6) Therefore, the solution to today's nihilistic individualism is not to be found in a return to focusing on the family or focusing on being good citizens. The solution is found in returning to and restoring the Church and allowing the body of Christ to function as the Christian social body.
(7) I am not arguing for some sort of Christian State or Constantinian utopia, I am simply arguing that the Church is the polis for Christians. The nation state, and even the nuclear family, are simply parodies and perversions of the Church.

“It used to be said that God could create anything except what would be contrary to the laws of logic.—The truth is that we could not say what an 'illogical' world would look like.”
~ Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 3.031
And this is precisely why Christianity is utterly dependent upon revelation as opposed to reason or natural science. The core of Christianity can only be understood as 'logical' after it has been revealed as that which is real. Thus, for example, it is only after encountering Jesus as both God and man that we are able speak of a person who is both divine and human without drifting into 'illogical' or impossible expressions.
This, then, is why the suggestion that “God can create anything except what would be contrary to the laws of logic” is not a complete or genuine Christian statement. It must be dramatically modified to read as follows: “God can create anything according to God's logic.” Logic, in particular our understanding of logic, does not rule over God's actions; rather, God rules over our logic and only through revelation can we discern what is truly logical and what is not.
(As an aside: I am currently reading my way through both Barth and Wittgenstein and I have been struck by the ways in which their works challenge, compliment, and further each other. Does anybody know any good studies that compare and contrast the two?)

It seems commonplace to argue that Christians who are “Conservative” tend to focus their political influence on sexual issues while Christians who are “Liberal” tend to focus their political power on socio-economic issues. Thus, Christian Conservatives spend a lot of time talking about things like abortion, sex among teens, divorce, and homosexuality while Christian Liberals spend a lot of time talking about things like poverty, war, racism, and corporate businesses. Essentially Conservatives and Liberals have two different compartmentalized hierarchies of values — one places sex at the top, and the other places economics at the top.
I would like to suggest that not only are both the Liberal and Conservative compartmentalized hierarchies flawed because of what they leave out, they are also flawed precisely because they are compartmentalized hierarchies. The problem with the Liberals' hierarchy is that they think they can talk about economics without talking about sex. The problem with the Conservatives' hierarchy is that they think they can talk about sex without talking about economics. What I want to propose is that every discussion of economics carries sexual implications and every discussion of sex is intimately shaped by the economic context within which that discussion takes place.
Sex and economics go hand-in-hand and cannot be separated from each other. This is so because both economic practices and sexual practices are expressions of worship. Thus, worship of the one God should result in particular economic practices and in particular sexual practices — just as worship of idols, in the Old Testament, results in a particular kind of economics (oppression of the poor) and in a particular kind of sexual practice (temple prostitution).
If we are to overcome the Liberal/Conservative divide that mars much of North American Christianity we must begin to explore both economic issues and sexual issues through the lens of what it means to be a community shaped by the worship of the one God — Father, Son, and Spirit — as that one God is revealed in the biblical narrative.
Therefore, in order to participate constructively in any current debate about sexuality, one must first begin with the topics of worship and idolatry, move from there to a discussion of the economics which result from worship and from idolatry, and only then move into a discussion of any contemporary sexual issue in light of contemporary economics and contemporary forms and objects of worship.

I have often been struck by the way in which the author of the epistle to the Hebrews, in a very Pauline sort of way, expresses a longing to give his audience adult “solid food” instead of the “milk” that is reserved for infants (He 5.11-14 — cf. 1 Cor 3.1-3). Previously these verse have always stood out to me because I think that contemporary Christian teaching often persists in giving people (especially youth) milk even though they are longing for — and in desperate need of — solid food.
However, as I was reading through Hebrews this time, I was struck by the reason the author provides as to why his audience is not ready for solid food. Solid food, the author argues, “is for the mature, who by constant use have trained themselves to distinguish good from evil.” The author of Hebrews suggests that serious theology is only comprehensible to those who have been shaped by a constant and disciplined praxis (Paul basically makes the same point in 1 Cor 3 when he notes the faulty praxis of the Corinthians and realizes they are still not ready for solid food).
Quite naturally this line of thought leads me to the emphasis within liberation theology which suggests that theology is reflection upon ecclesial praxis. As Gustavo Gutierrez argues in We Drink from Our Own Wells: “Discourse on faith is a second stage in relation to the life of faith itself… Talk about God (theo-logy) comes after the silence of prayer and after commitment.” However, Gutierrez notes that this is not to say that theology is altogether a separate and later stage; rather, he is simply emphasising that theology must be rooted in praxis.
Of course, in order to engage in any sort of Christian praxis we do need some basic teaching — infants do need milk — and that is why catechesis is so important. But, although it is a good first word, the catechism is not the last word on Christian living or on Christian theology. Catechesis empowers new Christians to begin to engage in the ongoing disciplined praxis of the Christian community, and it is only from this place that serious theology can be born and can become comprehensible. Any theology not rooted in praxis is inherently problematical. And this is why theology is never simply repeating verbatim the traditions, doctrines, and creeds of the Church, as though such things exist as the timeless Word of God. All theology, doctrines, and creeds are contextual and any attempt to remove these things from their concomitant context and praxis is misguided and dangerous.
It is this recognition of the crucial importance of praxis to both doing and understanding theology that should cause us to question theology as it is done and taught within the Christian Academy. To suggest, for example, that a person has a firm grasp on the notion of cruciform suffering love simply because one can put together a well-written paper on that topic would strike the liberation theologians (and quite possibly Paul and the author of Hebrews) as absurd. Apart from the praxis of cruciform suffering love, one may very well have little idea of what cruciformity actually means, and one should be more than a little hesitant to risk speaking authoritatively on the subject (this actually ties in well with advice that Tom Wright gives to preachers: do not preach what has not become a part of you!).
Therefore, if Christian education is to be both truly Christian and truly educational this element of praxis must be restored to the curriculum. Those who study theology must be intimately involved in the radical lifestyle to which their theology calls them. Thus, to continue to example from the previous paragraph, if we are learn what cruciformity is we must not only read about the subject, we must come to experience cruciformity — and what better way to go about doing that than by journeying with the crucified people of today? If I am not concretely involved in loving my brothers and sisters, my neighbours, and my “enemies” then it doesn't matter how articulate or well researched my paper on the topic of love is — chances are I don't really know what I'm talking about.

“It is also crucial to bear in mind the interconnection between the Decalogue… and its modern obverse, the celebrated 'human Rights'. As the experience of our post-political liberal-permissive society amply demonstrates, human Rights are ultimately, at their core, simply Rights to violate the Ten Commandments. 'The right to privacy' — the right to adultery, in secret, where no one sees me or has the right to probe my life. 'The right to pursue happiness and to possess private property' — the right to steal (to exploit others). 'Freedom of the press and of the expression of opinion' — the right to lie. 'The right of free citizens to possess weapons' — the right to kill. And, ultimately, 'freedom of religious belief' — the right to worship false gods.”
~ The Fragile Absolute — or, why is the christian legacy worth fighting for?

When journeying with those who have not been well loved by others and who do not love themselves all that much (or at all) it is not enough to simply proclaim, “God loves you and everybody else!” This proclamation is truncated and incomplete. The problem with this message is that proclaiming that “God loves everybody” does little to address the underlying issues faced by the unloved person. “Okay,” that person thinks, “God loves even people who are worthless. That doesn't change the fact that I'm worthless.” Our proclamation that “God loves you” is only a complete proclamation when we proclaim that “God loves you because you are lovely.” God does not simply love us because that's what God does regardless of who we are; God loves us because there is something about us that God finds worth loving.
Adopting this proclamation means engaging in a bit of a paradigm shift in how we understand the people with whom we engage in the (embodied!) act of proclamation. Instead of viewing people as hell-bound sinners we must come to see people as God's craftsmanship, surely broken, but inherently good and beautiful. Of course, all this is not to say that God owes us love, or that we earn God's love; rather, it is to say that, from the get-go, God has made us lovely — and, therefore, God loves everyone.
Indeed, this loveliness is precisely what I have discovered in those whom society tends to see as completely unloveable. As I have journeyed into relationships with prostitutes, pimps, addicts, dealers, sex offenders and other criminals, I have been overwhelmed by the loveliness that is in all of these people. The tragedy is not that these people are devoid of anything lovely — that tragedy is how broken they have become and how we have trapped them within that brokenness by treating them as though they are worthless. This is why we are not simply sinners saved by grace. We are those created lovely by God, broken by sin, and transformed through the Spirit of the new creation into greater loveliness — thereby also becoming greater lovers of others.