Going to Die: On Staging Losing Conflicts with the Powers (A Sermon)

[The following is a Palm Sunday sermon that I preached today at “The Story” in Sarnia, Ontario.]
Introduction: Jesus Predicts his Own Death
Since today is “Palm Sunday,” we are stepping back from Acts and will be looking at Jesus and his arrival in Jerusalem during the Passover. We all know what happens next in the story: the crucifixion, death, and resurrection of Jesus which will be the focus next week. However, it’s safe to say that many of the actors involved in the story – from the disciples, to the crowds, to the Sanhedrin, to the Roman governor – didn’t know what was going to happen.
But Jesus did. Three times, in Luke’s account, we see Jesus predicting his own death. Twice in Lk 9 (vv21-27 and again in vv43-45), and then once more when he is on his way to Jerusalem he says this:

See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and everything that is written about the Son of Man by the prophets will be accomplished. For he will be handed over to the nations; and he will be mocked and insulted and spat upon. After they have flogged him, they will kill him, and so on the third day he will rise again” (Lk 18.31-33).

Jesus knows that he is going to Jerusalem to die. Stop and ask: how does Jesus know this? Don’t give yourself an easy way out and go with the Sarah Silverman answer that Joe mentioned a few weeks ago: “Jesus is magic.” Think harder. “How does Jesus know he is going to die?”
Another question that might help you answer that one is this: “Why did Jesus die?” Want to know what the wrong answer is? “For the sins of the world.” Nobody who was involved in killing Jesus had that on their minds. It’s not like the Sanhedrin, Pilate, and the soldiers who nailed Jesus to the cross all thought: “Well, gotta kill this guy to save the world from its sin – thanks ever so much for agreeing to do this. Sorry about the nails and all that.” So, why did they kill Jesus?
The answers to these questions can be seen especially clearly in the material we are looking at today: Lk 19.28-48. This passage can be broken into three episodes: the first is when Jesus proceeds from the Mount of Olives to Jerusalem and the so-called “triumphal entry” takes place. The second is the short observation that Jesus weeps for Jerusalem and its coming destruction, and the third is the so-called “cleansing of the temple.” I think all of these stories are pretty well known to anybody who grew up going to church, but I think we are mostly taught how to misunderstand them. We tend to read the “triumphal entry” as the story of Jesus coming as a king to Jerusalem, we read Jesus weeping over Jerusalem as an anti-Semitic judgment on the Jews for not being Christians, and we read the “cleansing of the temple” as some sort of religious ritual, which Jesus has exclusive permission to perform because, you know, he’s God. Jesus is magic!
However, when we read these stories in context, very different things come to our attention and after we look at them in more detail, we’ll already be able to know what is going to happen to Jesus – even if we had never read the rest of the story – these verses let us know that Jesus is going to die and why he is going to die.
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Guest Post: Daniel Imburgia on the Meaning of Meaning

[I was thinking I could do a monthly feature on my blog: “Ten Questions with Daniel Imburgia” (which would be my way of both exploiting Daniel for my own entertainment and edification and exposing more people to his brilliance) but, well, after sending him the first ten questions it took him a few months to respond.  Then, when he did respond, he seemed to have the impression that I was asking a number of different people these questions… so much for what I had planned — “Ever tried.  Ever failed…”  My thanks to Daniel for sharing these words.]

Dear DanO, well here are my thoughts on the questions you asked. First off I reckon we aught to review your original questions though:

(1) What is meaning?

(2) What is the significance of meaning?

(3) What is the relationship of meaning to ethics?

(4) What is the relationship of meaning to events?

(5) What is the relationship of meaning to actions?

(6) What is the relationship of meaning to desire?

(7) What is the relationship of meaning to language?

(8) What is the relationship of meaning to being?

(9) What is the relationship of one person’s sense of meaning to other senses of meaning?

 (10) What is the relationship of meaning to meaninglessness?

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Charlie…

I made this for my son since his new favourite game at the park is to use his head to plow furrows in the sand.  Yep, a regular chip of the ol’ block that one.

Do As I Say, Not as I Do: Academic Contradictions (Biblical Studies and Marxism)

In many areas of education, the instructor needs to be able to demonstrate a certain degree of proficiency in practicing what is being taught.  Dentists teach at dental schools.  A person who practices First Aid, teaches First Aid to others.  A ticketed plumber teaches others how to be plumbers.  A painter teaches others to paint by (amongst other things) demonstrating certain techniques.
However, when one moves to some of the more theory-oriented areas of education, this same point does not always hold true.  Rather, one demonstrates one’s proficiency not in any point of action but by manipulating signs within some sort of game that does not seem to connect directly to one’s life and actions.  Pure mathematics or some realms of physics are probably some of the most obvious examples of this.
The catch here is that some theories are praxis-oriented or praxis-dependent.  That is to say, if one accepts a theory that is like this as “authoritative” or “right” or “true” in some sense, one is also required to act in a certain manner.  This is how one demonstrates both an acceptance and understanding of the theory.  The alternative is that either one rejects this kind of theory (as “non-authoritative” or “wrong” or “untrue”) or simply does not understand the theory (i.e. by claiming to accept it while failing to live into it).
One example of this would be New Testament studies, as performed by those who claim that the New Testament is an authority in their own lives.  It is hard to engage in any sort of sustained study of the New Testament without realizing that the life, actions, and commitments of Jesus — as exemplified particularly well in Phil 2.5-11 — are also to be the model for the life, actions, and commitments of any who wish to follow Jesus or who consider the New Testament to be a sacred text of some sort.  If one teaches Phil 2, or New Testament studies, but does not live into a trajectory of creative solidarity and resistance alongside of those who are being marginalized, oppressed, and deprived of life by the death-dealing Powers of our day, one demonstrates that one has not actually understood or accepted the teachings of the New Testament.  Therefore, to try and teach such material while pursuing tenure in an academic institution (which are clusters of wealth, status and power), or holding some prestigious posting within the institutional church (say, for example, writing a book like Jesus and the Victory of God, while living in the luxury afforded the Bishop of Durham). Is an exercise in missing the point (which also explains why N. T. Wright’s pastoral writings are constantly disappointing, and why he fails to follow through on the implications of his more scholarly works).  It would be like having a non-dentist teach dentistry — sure, they can probably tell you everything, memorize all the approaches and names, problems and solutions, but when it comes down to them showing you how to do a root canal on a patient sitting in a chair, they are going to fuck it up royally.  Which, of course, is part of the reason why we have so many Christian scholars or pastors who can say a lot of nice things about Christianity but don’t have the first clue about what it means to actually live as Christians — those who taught them never showed them.
The same, I think, can be said of those who teach and advocate on behalf of Marxist theory in the academy.  I got thinking about this again because of a recent post by Adam Kotsko at AUFS, and the ensuing comments (see here).  Adam concludes his brief post by asking: “Is the self-proclaimed Marxist with no relationship to the worker’s movement any different from someone who claims to have a Buddhist or Kabbalistic outlook on life without practicing Buddhism or Judaism in any serious way?”
I think this is an excellent question and one that academics don’t seem to like to ask themselves all that much (and they often like it even less when others ask them this question)… although they certainly do a pretty fine job of being appropriately critical about other contexts.  Personally, I do not feel that there is any significant difference between the (majority) of self-proclaimed Marxist academics and the so-called Western Buddhist (whom Zizek has often criticized).  Espousing Marxism is supporting a form of theory that has direct implications regarding a person’s lifestyle, trajectory, and the relationships that person chooses to enter into (or not).  I think Marxist anarchists have always understood this much better than Marxists in the academy (where the anarchists are notably absent… for good reason).  Essentially the Marxist professor who chooses to situate him- or herself within a context of privilege, status, and wealth,  wining and dining at conferences in St. Andrew’s, scouting a position at an Ivy League school, and trying to attain tenure is doing nothing different than the New Testament scholar who plays the same game — i.e. betraying the very position he or she claims to espouse.
That those rooted in the Academy tend to avoid any analysis of this is well reflected in the comments of Adam’s post.  Adam suggests that maybe this means the so-called Western Buddhist isn’t all that bad, another person suggests that the Marxist is better simply by being a Marxist (here the claim to be a Marxist is taken at face value), and another person essentially deploys the “stop splitting the Left” argument because, really, we’re all already oppressed enough by capitalism.
However, as always occurs in this kind of conversation, the argument was made by an additional person that detached Marxist professors are worthwhile in that they create a space where some students can be exposed to some important information, and then those students may go on to be “future activists” who go out and “tear things out.”  This is the classic “do as I say, not as I do” line, and I see professors deploy it all the time.  Of course, the proper response to this is to point out that any students who do go out and do engage in solidarity with the workers, or some marginalized population, or whomever else, do so despite the example set by the professor.
The professor is actually one of the largest barriers to the students going out to “tear things up” (just as children will almost always go on to do as their parents do, not as they say).  The professor is constantly showing the students that they can (supposedly) have their cake and eat it too — i.e. be considered “radicals” or even “Marxists” while continuing to deliberately pursue a life that perpetuates the status quo of capitalism and enjoying all the perks of those who embrace this lifestyle.  Further, lacking a decent practical model, the student who does go out and try to live out what he or she learns, may face serious difficulties (like a dental student who was only taught dental theory and never taught to develop the fine motor skills needed to drill teeth).  This often leads to rapid burn-out or disillusionment (“fuck this, I’m sticking to the books!”), not to mention the harm it can do to others.
Of course, this is not to say that “academia is just a black hole of total worthlessness” (as Adam thinks that some “activists” view the situation).  The knowledge gained in studying Marxism (and the various subjects engaged by Marxism) is very important, but it is important to point out that those who claim to be Marxists (or New Testament scholars), while remaining almost exclusively rooted within the Academy are betraying and working against the very thing for which they claim to act as advocates.  So, really, we need to rework Zizek’s well-known statement that “Christians and Marxists should be on the same side of the barricades.”  The truth is that, all to often, they already are on the same side of the barricades — the side of those who choose to barricade themselves from the poor and the oppressed.

Tzim Tzum Link

My favourite blog commenter, Daniel Imburgia, and I have begun to exchange a series of questions that we will be posting on our blogs.  Daniel has submitted the first post, wherein he asks me about my experience and understanding of the Jewish concept of Tzim Tzum, over at his blog.  Here’s the link, for any who are interested.  I’ll be posting Daniel’s answers to my questions here in the near future (I mean, really, how long does it take to answer ten basic questions?).

Hope

[I left this comment on a very good post on Halden’s blog — see here — but nobody seems to be talking about much over there and I’m curious to hear what others think of this idea, so I’m reposting it here (I also felt like it said some things I have been wanting to put into words for awhile).  Feel free to disagree… or not.]
It seems to me that you trying to look but taking back what you see at the same time. While trying to confront the severity of hope, it seems as though you still end up blunting the confrontation in a number of ways. Of course, that’s how things used to be for me as well, when I first started encountering the context of hopelessness and godforsakenness. Spend some more time there (if I may be so bold as to presume to speak this way) and this is what you will find:
Hope will stop crying out. Hope will stop dancing. Hope will not be appeased by any word or Word. The context of hopelessness and godforsakenness can cut out your tongue, cut off your feet, and make you deaf.
In the end, hope is simply the decision to remain alive. To not kill one’s self. That’s all.
No matter how a person chooses to stay alive (with the assistance of drugs or alcohol, by lashing out at others, by slashing his or her own body, etc.), all of these lives are the embodiment of hope, precisely in the way that they are lived, for as long as a person chooses not to die.
Some say that “where there’s life there’s hope” and take that to mean that things could be better, things could change, God could intervene, you never know what might happen… I take it to mean that choosing to remain alive, in one’s unchanging circumstances, and not choosing Death, is the most audacious act of hope there is.

Books of 2011

Well, I did meet some of my reading goals for 2011.  I got into Nietzsche a bit and finished off McCarthy’s novels and Proust’s masterpiece.  I also finished nine books related to indigenous issues in North America.  I also ended up spending more time reading material written by anarchists.  Surprisingly, I started enjoying reading poetry more than I have previously, so I may continue that trajectory next year (any suggestions? or, for that matter, any reading suggestions at all?  I’m open to whatever).
However, I didn’t end up reading any Spinoza, I didn’t manage to finish Being and Time before the end of the year and, for the first time in the last six years, I didn’t read a volume of Barth’s Church Dogmatics… I’m having trouble feeling excited about reading theology these days (or philosophy… a lot of things actually seem rather pointless these days… maybe I’m depressed!).  In total, I read 65 books in 2011 and I’ve finally admitted to myself that I’m not gonna ever be able to read more than that — at least not for the next handful of years.
My top three works of fiction completed (for the first time) this year are: In Search of Lost Time by Proust, The Age of Reason by Sartre, and the graphic novel Essex County by Jeff Lemire.
My top three works of non-fiction completed (for the first time) this year are: Remember the Poor by Bruce W. Longenecker, Imperialist Canada by Todd Gordon, and A National Crime by John Milloy [Edit: Actually, Wasáse, by Taiaiake Alfred should probably be in this list, if not at the front of it.]
Here is the complete list for 2011:
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December Books

Rushed due to being overly busy and tired these days…
1. Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West by Dee Brown.
This book traces the impact of white settler expansions into the West, as the United States grew and developed, from approximately 1860 until Decemeber 29th, 1890, the date of the Wounded Knee massacre, where Blackfoot and his companions were slaughtered as they were surrendering their arms.  Not surprisingly, it is a tale of misrepresentations, lies, treaties set (by whites) that were never intended to be followed (by whites), massacres, displacements, betrayals, and on and on it goes.  Essentially, it is a document of certain period of the genocide targeting First Nations people (a genocide that continues to this day).  The perpetrators?  Primarily white Christians with a sense of manifest destiny.
Required reading, I reckon.
2. No Gods, No Masters: An Anthology of Anarchism (Book One) by Daniel Guérin.
I was already familiar with a fair bit of the content in this volume — particularly the material related to Proudhon, Bakunin, and Kropotkin (who dominate this volume) — but I thought it would be good to refresh a bit on some of it and also discover some new (to me) anarchist voices.  Kropotkin is really my first love when it comes to anarchism and I fail to see how any can read him without seeing this as an expression of the way of Jesus being practiced in a different context.  I also enjoyed the section on James Guillaume, whom I had not read before.  Really, however, I am most looking forward to reading Guérin’s second book which contains a number of anarchist voices whom I have not yet read — most excited to read Malatesta, Makhno and the Kronstadt sailors.
3. Russian Fairy Tales collected by Aleksandr Afans’ev, translated by Robert Guterman, illustrated by Alexander Alexeieff.
This was a fun volume to slowly chip away at over the last year (the tales are short — from one or two paragraphs up to about eight pages — so it’s easy to pick up and put down).  I always enjoy reading old stories, it’s fun (for me) to think about the contexts in which these stories were first told and to then think that I am reading them now.
I was thinking a bit about James C. Scott’s work on “hidden transcripts” and “public transcripts” when I was reading these folks tales.  Some of the stories were obviously told in order to reinscribe and affirm the dominant social order of the day — talking about the miraculous power of Christianity, or talking about how the women should never lead men and that what such women need are a good beating, which will transform them into faithful loving wives (there were a fair number of tales like this).  However, the tales that were told about So-and-So “the fool” or So-and-So “the sluggard” were interesting in that they encouraged and rewarded those who “dropped out” of the roles assigned to peasants, refused to work (and hence were seen as foolish or lazy) but who, in the end, became wealthy, respected or masters of themselves and others.  These stories are, in some ways, much more subversive.
Definitely an interesting collection for those who are into this sort of thing.
4. Omensetter’s Luck by William H. Gass.
I read this book thinking I was going to participate in the book reading group being lead by Brad Johnson over at AUFS.  However, due to a mixture of busy-ness and lack of inspiration I ended up dropping out of that (which was just as well because the contributions that were made were way out of my league).
I can’t say that I particularly enjoyed reading this book.  Just not the sort of writing style that I find aesthetically pleasing, as far as my personal tastes are concerned.  The whole “stream of consciousness” thing (from Joyce to Pynchon) doesn’t really excite me.  Plus, looking beyond the structure and the prose to some of the themes developed by Gass in the story, well, none of them seem mind-blowing to me.
This is not to say that there was no parts that I enjoyed — I actually liked the opening and I found some of the ramblings of Furber to be pretty exciting.  So, hey, if you’re into this kind of literature, I’m sure you’ll love it.  As for me, well, I enjoyed Gaddis a lot more.

Job's Response

A little while ago, I found myself in a situation where I raised a topic with somebody and, instead of responding to my complaint, the other party responded by ranting about a number of other issues, flipping things back around on me, and basically going on and on until I was too tired to bother saying anything else.  My response to this was: “Wow, forget that I said anything.  I’m sorry that I brought it up.”
Then I had this thought: maybe that’s basically what Job is saying in response to God’s rant.  He brings his complaint before God and God goes off about the creation of the world, sea monsters, and who knows what else.  Job might be thinking: “Wow, forget that I said anything.  I’m sorry that I brought it up.”  Or, in other words: “Behold, I am insignificant; what can I reply to you? I lay my hand on my mouth.”

An Advent Liturgy

[What follows is a Liturgy I created and which will be presented tomorrow at the church I have been attending since coming to Sarnia.  Five quick introductory points: first, in the story told by the second character (the so-called “Tax Collector”), I begin the story with an only very slightly modified letter taken from a website created by a feminist journalist, where men write about why they go to strip clubs.  Second, anybody is free to use this liturgy.  I can send the power point slides to anybody who requests them — which include the photo collections I put together, although you may want to sub out the pictures of people from my church and sub in pictures of people from yours.  Third, there are one or two lines that I edited at the request of the pastors in the story told by the first character (the so-called “Prostitute”).  I’ve gone back and included the lines I originally wrote here, because I like them better and think they are more honest.  However, if you use the liturgy, you are free to edit it.  Fourth, please note that the stories told are true, although each character is an amalgamation of people, and so I ask that they be treated respectfully.  Finally, I was working with a talented musician so all music was performed live.]
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