Whether God exists or not, we still face the [problem] of idols. By “idols” we mean historical realities that do exist, and that promise salvation and demand worship and orthodoxy. Their existence, and the worship they demand, are decisively verified by the victims they inevitably produce. There must be many idols in our time, because their victims are millions of human beings.
~ Jon Sobrino
This is the essential difference between Christianity and idolatry. While idols will always produce victims, Christians will refuse to make victims of any other but will choose to become victims — in order to overcome cycles of victimisation.
While the idols' existence is manifest in the production of victims, the Christian God is revealed when Christians choose to take the victimisation onto themselves.
Jesus, the fullest revelation of the Christian God, makes this point painfully clear. Refusing to victimise any other person he goes the way of the cross. This is the character of God. God is not a sovereign Lord who victimises that which he creates. Rather, God is one who takes the pain, the sorrow, the wounds of victimisation upon himself, refusing to lash out lest he too ends up engaging in idol worship.
The fact that we see so many victims today suggests to me that we have all made gods of ourselves instead of following in the footsteps of Jesus who
because he existed in the form of God, did not regard equality with God a thing to be grasped but emptied himself taking the form of a slave, being made in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death — even death on a cross.
~ Philippians 2.6-8

Only utopianism and hope will enable us to believe, and give us strength to try — together with all the world's poor and oppressed people — to reverse history, to subvert it, and to move it in a different direction.
~ Ignacio Ellacuria (from an address given ten days before he was assassinated).
One is either an idealist or one is hopeless. Those who possess hope will always be labeled idealistic, utopian, and unrealistic by those too wounded, too fearful, too comfortable, or too knowledgeable to hope for anything more than what they already have.
I suspect that R.R. Niebuhr and those who follow in the footsteps of “Christian realism” miss this point because they never really understood the nature of Christian hope. And I suspect that they neglected hope because they misunderstood the nature of suffering love. And, here I tread with some trepidation, I suspect that they misunderstood the nature of suffering love because they misunderstood Jesus. Without hope Christianity is neither “Christian” nor “realistic.”

In his address entitled “Learning in War Time” C.S. Lewis says this about WWII:
I believe our cause to be, as human causes go, very righteous, and I therefore believe it to be a duty to participate in this war. And every duty is a religious duty, and our obligation to perform every duty is therefore absolute.
Lewis then goes on to liken the duty to go to war to the duty to rescue drowning people if we live on a dangerous coast. In fact, in such a situation, it may even be our duty to lose our own lives in order to save another. Thus, such duties are duties that are worth dying for — but not worth living for. As Lewis says,
A man may have to die for our country but no man must, in the exclusive sense, live for his country. He who surrenders himself without reservation to the temporal claim of a nation, or a party, or a class is rendering to Caesar that which, of all things, most emphatically belongs to God: himself.
While I agree with many of Lewis' points about the role of learning in war time, and the things that war reveals to us about day to day life, I most emphatically disagree with Lewis' conclusion that participating in war (any war after Jesus) is a righteous activity.
Lewis' analogy about saving drowning men* is fundamentally flawed because Lewis does not consider seriously enough that war not only calls us to save lives but also calls us to take lives. The duty of a soldier is to kill. Yet such a duty moves from laying down one's life for another and instead lays down another's life for oneself (and one's loved ones). By choosing to kill others I have decided to live for my country instead of die for my country and this is exactly what Lewis speaks against. War is the choice to lay down the lives of other's instead of our own lives — and this is a choice that Christians can never make.
_________
* Yes, Lewis wrote before the application of gender neutral language. Indeed, Lewis was a vocal supporter of male dominance over women. However (to be fair), he did love and treat the women that he knew personally with the utmost dignity, humility, and respect.

The problem with my vices is that I like them so damn much.

And the sound of music you know played on, and on, and on.
And once upon a time I was sure that life goes on.
– Catch-22 (the band, not the book)
So this turned into a much longer ramble than I intended. I do end up repeating a bit of what I said in a much earlier post entitled “Christian Snuff Films.” …
Hauerwas and Willimon can recall the day when movie theatres first began showing films on Sunday (cf. Resident Aliens). According to them, on this day, “the world shifted.” Film has become an increasingly influential medium within contemporary society. John Stackhouse suggests that it may be the single most influential medium and, as such, cannot be ignored by Christians who seek to formulate a coherent theology of culture. This reflection will address the general theme of a Christian interaction with film.
In particular, I wish to focus upon a Christian response to violence in film. This is a broad and much debated topic and so I will limit myself to responding to the argument that graphic violence can be used in film as a means of sensitising the audience. Therefore, I don't care to address “slasher” films, or films that glorify violence for the sake of violence, although my conclusions to have implications for how a Christian should respond to such films. Rather, this reflection addresses films that employ graphic violence regretfully, recognising that it is a part of public life. There are three recent films that use graphic violence especially powerfully in this regard, City of God (2002), Irreversible (2002), and The Passion of the Christ (2004). All of these films were hailed as successes within their particular niches. City of God won the Palme D'Or at Cannes, Irreversible gained notoriety at Cannes and garnered a cult following, and The Passion was a blockbuster that gained popular mainstream success.
City of God employs graphic violence to draw attention to the real life stories of kids that are raised within the worst slum in Rio de Janiero. The violence is especially horrific because it is performed by, and against, children. Irreversible employs graphic violence in order to reveal the horrors of violence against women. An uncut nine minute long rape scene (of a woman who just discovered she is pregnant) culminates in the assailant kicking in the woman's face. The Passion does not merely contain violet scenes, it is an entire movie of torture, bleeding and dying.
Yet violence is shown graphically in these films in order to sensitise callous audiences to the true nature of these events. As Gaspar Noe, the director of Irreversible says, “I needed to show rape in all its gory details so that we could grasp the true horror of the event.” Mel Gibson, director of The Passion makes similar assertions, arguing that Christians and others need to realise the true horror of Jesus' sufferings and the extent of his sacrifice for the world. Gibson reveals the cross for what it truly is, an instrument of torture — not a piece of costume jewelry. These directors claim to have good intentions. Indeed, it is likely true that at least Gibson's intentions are pure. Because of the goodness of the intentions should Christians embrace the production and viewing of such movies, as a means of sensitisation?
When one surveys the Christian voices on this topic it is not surprising to discover a wide variety of perspectives. One one end of the spectrum are those who embrace H.R. Niebuhr's first type — Christ against Culture. These Christians argue that film is inherently evil and compromised, a propagator of all sorts of perversion. They point to movies like the three mentioned here and argue that they actually make society more violent regardless of the directors' intentions. Therefore, they conclude, Christians should have no interaction with film whatsoever.
On the other end of the spectrum are those who belong ot H.R. Niebuhr's second type — Christ of Culture. These Christians argue for freedom of expression and assert that no censorship should be imposed on the arts. D. Posterski's “Accomodators” fall into this category (cf. True to You). Therefore, films such as those mentioned above are an integral form of free expression within free societies.
Those who belong to H.R.'s third type (Christ above Culture — similar to Posterski's “Cocooners”) would likely see no connection between their faith and film and would, therefore, not be inclined to engage or think to engage, in this debate.
Those of H.R.'s fourth type — Christ and Culture in paradox — would be more willing to recognise the complexity of the issue. Ultimately, they would conclude (with R.R. Niebuhr's sense of irony well-established) that there is a place for such films, even if they do produce some negative impact.
Finally, those who belong to H.R.'s fifth type — Christ transforming Culture — are the ones most engaged in this debate. Posterski's “Reclaimers” fall here, seeking to bring film back to more conservative presentations and, therefore, standing in opposition ot such as films as City of God, Irreversible, and The Passion. Posterski's “Collaborators” also fall here and they seek to present more Christian films while also allowing others to present films that express their values.
Within this plurality of voices how is the individual Christian to discern the correct approach? As both H.R. Niebuhr and Stackhouse note, many good, wise and influential Christians have belonged, and do belong, to each of these positions. Perhaps it is best to employ what Glen Tinder calls “prophetic hesitancy” (cf. The Political Meaning of Christianity). Recognising one's limitations and inability to be certain of God's will (recognising what Stackhouse calls “finitude and fallenness”) perhaps one can only respond to this situation as an individual. Perhaps there is no one Christian response.
Yet the voices of both C.S. Lewis and D. Bonhoeffer argue against this. Lewis argues for an objective reality that can be known in the same way as scientific facts. Bonhoeffer, formed by the crisis in which he lived, argues that God does speak clearly into the contemporary cultural situation and Christians are called to respond with decisive action. With due respect to Tinder's sincerity this reflection sides with Lewis and Bonhoeffer arguing that a clear response can be formulated on behalf of the Christian body, not just on behalf of individual Christians.
Christians are called to bring about Shalom. Therefore, they are called to engage with culture in the pursuit of Shalom. In following in the footsteps of those who belong to H.R. Niebuhr's fourth type, Christians must engage culture with “holy pragmatism” (Stackhouse) enacting what Posterski calls “redemptive resistance” (of course, it is somewhat ironic that Posterski employs this term. Between his embrace of patriotism and his classification of acts of civil disobedience as acts of lawlessness, one wonders how much Posterski's approach is actually resistant — or redeeming). The directors of the films mentioned above, in seeking to sensitise their audiences, are, therefore, arguably engaging in the pursuit of Shalom.
The the Christian must ask if these films attain their goal. Here it is worthwhile to pick up R.R. Niebuhr's emphasis on empirical analysis. One may immediately note that all three films did elicit strong emotional responses. Supposedly hardened critics fled the theatre in tears, and some even vomited, when Irreversible debuted at Cannes. The Passion caused audiences to return for multiple viewings and tears were just as present on the cheeks of those who watched for the third time as those who watched for the first. I myself, a street-youth worker, wept powerfully when I saw City of God. Yet feeling strong emotions is not equivalent to being sensitised or building Shalom. In fact, there are two especially strong arguments to support the conclusion that the production, and viewing, of such films is actually detrimental to Shalom.
The first detriment to sensitising and Shalom is the fact that these films are presented as entertainment. The first way that this is accomplished is through marketing. Poster, television ads, and online reviews lead audiences to view these films as something entertaining. Potential viewers have their interest stimulated, and, depending on what sort of emotion they want stimulated, they determine what movies to view. The venue in which these films are presented only strengthen the impression that these films are purely entertainment. Ads play before the movie and, as the movie ends, neon lights re-ignite and Top 40 songs play over the speakers. The viewer can sip a soda and munch on a candy bar while children are murdered, women are raped, and Christ is tortured. The fact that audience members are willing to pay $12.50 to view these movies only strengthens this conclusion. As consumers audiences pay for a specific product, seeking a specific type of gratification. When this is recognised movies like those mentioned above become especially dangerous because of the type of emotion that they stimulate. When understood in this light viewing these films is an expression of insensitivity and one's distance from Shalom. Yet, because tears have been produced, the illusion of sensitivity is accomplished. Christians who leave The Passion weeping gain a sense that they are “good Christians” who know they love their Lord deeply because they wept so strongly. Yet, when one takes into account that these Christians paid $12.50 to see this movie and feel this way, one cannot help but wonder if they have not, in fact, joined the throng chanting, “Crucify him!”
When one listens to the voices of those who have actually experienced trauma like these movies portray this conclusion is only strengthened. As a friend of mine who was raped, stabbed, and left for dead, once said to me, “It's one thing to know there are people out there who commit such atrocities. It's another thing to know that the general public is willing to pay to see such atrocities enacted.” Such films are thus detrimental to Shalom because they further alienate and isolate those who have suffered deeply. Watching Irreversible does not make me more sensitive to the sufferings of one who is raped. It actually makes the loved ones I know less likely to ever share their stories, and their burdens, with me. Neil Postman argues that television (and film by implication) is most dangerous, not in the production of fluff, but when it seeks to address religion, politics, and philosophy. THe same conclusion can now be drawn in relation to sensitisation and the production of Shalom.
How then should Christians respond ot this? First, they must allow those who have experienced such forms of trauma to set the standard of what is appropriate and what is inappropriate viewing. For example (to use the more ambiguous, less visual medium of literature), it seems that I can decide to accept the portrayal of rape as it appears in Tess of the D'Urbervilles (Thomas Hardy: a sensitive portrayal that highlights the psychological trauma), reject the portrayal in The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand: the woman is described as enjoying rape, thus perpetuating false stereo-types) yet be unsure of what to do with The World According to Garp (John Irving: a graphic rape that does not condone violence but highlights the horror). In this case I need the guidance of those who have suffered to know how to properly respond. A P. Freire asserts, in the pursuit of Shalom we must not only speak out on behalf of those who have suffered but also enable them to find their voice so that they can set us free from our commitment to systems of oppression (cf. Pedagogy of the Oppressed).
Here the insight of Hauerwas and Willimon is especially significant. They issue a call to the Church to return to being the Church. It is by being true to its identity that the Church will transform the world. The the Church is the social strategy of Christians. Here the redemptive call of Christians to fulfill the new commandment (“love one another”) and the great commandment (“love God and love neighbour”) becomes essential. To be true to their identity Christians must be committed to love relationships. In particular they are called to journey in love relationships with the oppressed and with those who have suffered and continue to suffer. It is exactly in these love relationships that true sensitisation occurs. Once Christians exist in love relationships with survivors of trauma they will not need films to make tears flow. They will realise the power that lies in the word “rape,” to actually watch a film like Irreversible becomes absurd.
Of course, this leads me to wonder how much of a genuine love relationship exists between many contemporary Christians and Jesus. If the family and friends of Leslie Mahaffey (a girl from Ontario who was kidnapped, raped, tortured and murdered — the perpetrators, Paul Bernardo and Karla Homolka filmed Leslie Mahaffey as they did all these things to her) would not even consider watching the films in order to “know what she went through,” why would Christians consider watching the beating, torture, and murder of their beloved Lord Jesus? Just as journeying in love relationships with the suffering sensitises us to their situation, so also journeying in love relationships with those who are crucified in our contemporary society sensitises us to the suffering of the crucified Christ.
There is a place for discussion of rape, murder, and torture within film. TO make such things a topic that cannot be addressed contributes to the taboo that such things are unspeakable and further isolates survivors. There is a place for meditations on the sufferings of Christ. Without such meditations one would be deprived of Luther's brilliant theology of the cross and Moltmann's masterful work, The Crucified God. Yet there is a distinction to be made between a voyeuristic pornography of violence and a portrayal of such events that contributes to Shalom. Only by journeying in love relationships with those who have suffered and listening to their voices can Christians discern which films contribute to Shalom and which do not.
Until then films such as City of God, Irreversible, and The Passion of the Christ will continue to be the centre of tumultuous moral debates. Many reject such films and believe that in doing so they have contributed to Shalom — never realising that they are called to go and journey alongside of the suffering. Many others embrace such films believing they are sensitising themselves by doing so — never realising that they have only further isolated and re-victimised those who have suffered deeply, be they children, women, or our Lord Jesus Christ.
Ultimately, any discussion about film should not be approached as a moral debate but as a kingdom debate. As a Christian I am committed to standing within the Kingdom of God and seeking to live solely under the Lordship of Christ. That means that I will inevitably come into conflict with the kingdoms of the world. The kingdom of the entertainment industry seeks our allegiance just as much as the kingdom of God. As comfortable North American Christians we tend to think we can have the best of both worlds. We think we can just pick and choose the movies we view, we can stand with one foot in God's kingdom and one foot in the entertainment industry. However, if we choose to give our money to the lords of Hollywood we are contributing to their kingdom — which is antithetical to God's. Jesus demands that we pick sides. There are some situations where we cannot be neutral. To have the foot in the door of another kingdom is to be wholly compromised. I may only choose to pay for movies that I can support as a Christian but, at the end of the day, the money ends up in the pockets of those who make movies I cannot support as a Christian. It is the same all over corporate America. I won't wear certain running shoes because my money would then be supporting the exploitation of the poor, I won't support certain Canadian businesses because they are raping the planet, and I won't support the entertainment industry because of the violence, apathy, idolatry and moral bankruptcy that it offers to us. This is a lordship I am not willing to recognise or support. The early Christians refused to pinch incense to Caesar and I will refuse to pop into theatres every now and again to view movies that I, as a Christian, find palatable. The kingdom values of the lords of Hollywood are not values I will lend my money to.

In my work, I belong to the whole world. But in my heart I belong to Christ.
– Mother Teresa of Calcutta
It is exactly this that it seems I can never explain within the context of a dating relationship. Of course, Mother Teresa was a celibate and I am beginning to wonder if, when one lives this way, celibacy is the only road that makes this possible.

“You look familiar.”
“Like your dead girlfriend?”
– Dialogue from Rent
In all the press around the death of Pope John Paul II there is one image that stands powerfully in my mind.
It is the image of the Pope seated on the balcony over St. Peter's square. His head is slightly misaligned with his shoulders, his face is etched with the years, and there's something in his eyes that lets you know that death will come soon.
And then a microphone is placed before him while hundreds of pilgrims wait in silence, hoping that the holy father will bless them one last time. Instead of a blessing the only noise heard in the square is the rattling of breath in John Paul's throat. A failed war for words that results in a gasping, ragged, dying noise.
The microphone is withdrawn, and the pilgrims weep.
The blessing shared with the multitude was the spectacle of a man so ill that he could hardly breathe, let alone speak. Those who came for euphoria, were instead confronted with a man crucified by age and illness. Their blessing was to participate in it.
At this moment John Paul did indeed fulfill his vocation and call to represent the one holy apostolic Church of Jesus Christ.

I don't want your money from abundance. I don't want to relieve your conscience, but I want you to give until it hurts: to give because you want to share the poverty and the suffering of our poor.
– Mother Teresa of Calcutta
Awhile ago a friend of mine wrote what I consider to be a brilliant post on the difference between what he calls “generosity” and “self-sacrifice.” I thought I'd add a little to that, I'm not changing his central point, I'm just hitting it from a different angle.
When we give I suspect that we feel good doing so. We feel good seeing the way our change is welcomed by panhandlers, we feel good when we drop our offering in the plate at church. For some this is because it appeases their consciences, for others this is because it confirms their internal belief that they are better than most people.
I am suspicious of giving that only feels good. I am suspicious because the biblical model of giving is of a giving that is painful. Giving, in the New Testament, does not feel good. Giving means being robbed and piling even more into the arms of the thief. Giving in the New Testament means being torn from your family and your work and carrying a heavy load for the soldiers who are oppressing you – and then offering to carry that load for an extra mile. Giving in the New Testament means dying. It means sweating drops of blood, it means being beaten, it means being crucified.
When we not only give out of our abundance but when we give that which keeps us secure then we will be giving Christianly. When we give not because it feels good but because it is painfully necessary then we will be giving biblically. When we give to the point where we are trapped with nothing to sustain us except God, then we will be following in the footsteps of Jesus.
Of course the danger is that when we begin to give more than those around us, though it pains us at first, we soon begin to feel good giving that little bit more because we are viewed as more noble or radical than most. This giving ceases to be painful. Therefore, instead of stagnating we must continue from that point into deeper and deeper forms of giving. As soon as each stage begins to feel comfortable we must give more. In this way we may discover that we have followed Jesus on the road to the cross. In this way we may, like Paul, be able to say that our very bodies are a testimony to the crucified Christ. In this way we will be the presence of the crucified Christ in the world and our suffering will bring salvation.

R.R. Reno in his book In the Ruins of the Church urges Christians to continue to ally themselves with the institutional church even though much of it is in ruins. Reno honestly recognises the shattered state of the North American church, yet counsels the church to stay in those ruins for God is present there, just as God was present in the ruins of Jerusalem.
I am unconvinced.
You see, the Temple was ruined and Jerusalem was destroyed because God had departed. The prophets' visions of the Shekinah departing from the Temple are grievous because they reveal that God has left his holy mountain. The city will certainly fall and the doom of the Temple is guaranteed. Therefore, if the contemporary church is in ruins it seems contrary to Scripture to argue that God is present there. Instead, those ruins should be a sign telling us that God has departed.
Simply put, I do not think that contemporary North American Christians can make an a priori assumption that God is still with us. Of course, Christians tend to object to the idea of godforsakenness and point to the passage in Hebrews that says that God “will never leave us nor forsake us.” Yet what they hasty reader misses is the fact that this verse is a quote from Deuteronomy 31 where Moses tells the people to go with courage into the land knowing that God will never leave them nor forsake them. But in the very same chapter Moses also says that, once in the land, Israel will rebel against God. Therefore, God says, “My anger will be kindled against them in that day, and I will forsake them and hide my face from them, and they shall be consumed… I will surely hide my face in that day because of all the evil which they will do.” We cannot proof-text our way out of forsakenness. Such theologies belong to the false prophets, not to the prophets of the living God.
Only by recognising our forsakennes can we hope to be restored. Only when we recognise that God has abandoned us can we hope that God will once again hear from heaven and come down.
I will stay within the ruins of the church, not because God is there, but in order to be the presence of God to a godless people. The church is the cross that the followers of Jesus must bear. We are called to journey with a people in exile if we are to maintain any hope of exile coming to an end.