I have always felt some frustration with the way in which N. T. Wright approaches the topic of hell, both because of the positions he engages and because I expect a little more from someone so committed to the larger narrative of Scripture.
I first came across his views in three small articles he had written (“Toward a Biblical View of Universalism” in Themelios 4:2 [1975]: 54-58; “Universalism” in The New Dictionary of Theology, eds. S. B. Ferguson and D. F. Wright [Leicester: IVP, 1988], 701-703; “Universalism in the World-Wide Community” in The Churchman 89:3 [1979]: 197-212), but he has, once again, addressed the topic in his recent book, Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of God. I'll begin by summarising what he says in this book, before making a few comments.
Wright begins, IMO, in the right place by refocusing what Jesus had to say about Gehenna. Essentially, Wright argues, Jesus was warning Israel of what would befall her if she continued to pursue violent revolution and rejected the way of peace that Jesus was offering (Wright expounds on this in more detail in Jesus and the Victory of God). Hence, he argues:
As with God's kingdom, so with its opposite: it is on earth that things matter… Unless they turned back from their hopeless and rebellious dreams of establishing God's kingdom in their own terms… then the Roman juggernaut would do what large, greedy, and ruthless empires have always done to small countries… Rome would turn Jerusalem into a hideous, stinking extension of its own rubbish heap. When Jesus said, “Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish,” that is the primary meaning he had in mind.
So far so good, and Wright continues to argue that the parables that appear to address hell directly must be remembered as parables that insist on the pursuit of justice and mercy within the present life.
Hence, he concludes that Jesus offers us no fresh teaching on this topic, but simply follows the normal first-century Jewish belief on this topic — which does include the belief that some people will be damned.
Wright then goes on the attack against the type of universalism promoted by liberal theologians in the '60s and '70s. He argues that their optimism is naive and that our recent experiences of horrible evils (he names places like Rwanda, Darfur, and the Balkans) remind us that there must be a judgment — good must be upheld, evil condemned, and the world set right.
Again, this is all well and good, but then Wright's argument continues in a way that I wish to challenge. He argues that setting the world right requires that some have “no place” in the new creation — in particular, those who have pursued idolatry, and thereby both acted in subhuman ways, and become subhuman creatures. What is the fate of these subhuman creatures? Not the traditional view of endless torment, nor a universalist view of repentance made possible after death, nor, yet again, a conditionalist view that argues that those who presistently refuse God's love, will be annihilated. Rather, Wright argues that the fate of such people is to become “by their own effective choice, beings that once were human but now are not.” Hence, he argues that these creatures, existing in an ex-human state “can no longer excite in themselves or others the natural sympathy some feel even for the hardened criminal”. In this way, they are “beyond hope, beyond pity”.
Ultimately, Wright states that he would “be glad to be proved wrong but not at the cost of the foundational claims that this world is the good creation of the one true God and that he will at the end bring about the judgment at which the whole creation will rejoice.” Indeed, he even goes so far as to suggest that Revelation 21-22 might open the door for holding the view that those outside the gates might be healed because the water of life flows out of the city, but he holds back from going any further in this thinking. Thus, he says, regarding this suggestion:
This is not at all to cast doubt on the reality of final judgment for those who have resolutely worshipped and served idols that dehumanize us and deface God's world. It is to say that God is always the God of surprises.
There are a few points I would like to raise related to Wright's presentation of these things. To begin with, I'm puzzled that he chooses to engage the forms of universalism that he does (and always has). Granted, there are some serious flaws in the liberal universalism that he criticises, but there is another form of universalism that he either doesn't know or ignores — that is, the hopeful universalism propogated especially by Hans Urs von Balthasar, but also expressed recently by Gregory MacDonald.
Secondly, I'm not sure why Wright links hell so closely to judgment. Indeed, I think the most compelling thing about Moltmann's understanding of eschatology and universalism, is that he deftly and biblically demonstrates that the two need not be held together. It is quite possible for good to be upheld, evil to be condemned, the world set right, and, at the same time, for all people to be saved. Yes, there must be exclusion before there can be an embrace (as Wright argues, following both Volf and Tutu), but that does not mean that the act of exclusion must be final — it could mean that all will, in the end, be embraced. This point, I think, goes a long way to overthrowing his stated objection to universalism.
Thirdly, given Wright's emphasis upon the biblical narrative, I'm a little surprised that he doesn't think (or at least doesn't say) that the salvation of all might be just the sort of “surprise” that fits rather well within the trajectory of that narrative. Despite the Old Testament material that shows us that the Gentiles would be also be welcomed into the Kingdom of God, the offer of the inclusion still came as a surprise to many in the days of Jesus and Paul. Of course, in retrospect, we 21st-century Christians can see how that inclusion fits the story rather well. I can't help but wonder if a similar surprise awaits us. Given the hints that exist within the Scriptures, we might also see the inclusion of all people in the consummation of the Kingdom.
Fourthly, I'm somewhat troubled by the things to which Wright appeals in order to refute “liberal optimism”. In his “catalog of awfulnesses” and his mention of those who are “utterly abhorrent” he lists mass murderers, child rapists, those who engage in “the commodification of souls”, and so on. Here's the kicker: over the years I have personally known several people who would fit into these categories, yet I hold onto the hope that they will be saved, and made new, along with the rest of us. I have known those who have tortured and killed others (gang members), I have known those who have sexually exploited children (pimps and johns), and I have known those who have commodified the souls of others (drug dealers), yet I have been unable to “cast the first stone.” Now, let me be clear on this: I believe that all of these actions are truly, truly horrible, but I do not yet believe that the people who performed these actions are horrible. Yes, such people must be resisted, yes, they must be held to account; but must they be damned? I don't think so.
Wright, I think, is too quick to demonise the humanity of the Other in these examples. I don't know if he has spent much time with such people, but I wonder how that might change his views. You see, because I have had the opportunity to personally journey alongside of many of these people, I have had a chance to see that most of them had little or no chance to be something other than what they are. Some were born broken, others were so broken when they were young that they never had a chance to develop into anything else (remember most of those who sexually abuse kids, were sexually abused as children — this is not to suggest that all those who are sexually abused as kids go on to abuse others, but it is a large factor, and I think other circumstances in one's life go a long way to determining whether or not one goes on to abuse others or not). Ultimately, contra Wright, I don't think that it is the human Other that becomes ex-human and is damned. Rather, I think it is the forces that dehumanise the Other — forces of sickness, of structural evil, and so on — that are damned, while the person is restored to their fully human status in Christ.
But wait, what do I mean when I say “some were born broken”? A few things: first, some people are born unable to empathise with others or follow moral codes (this is called Antisocial Personality Disorder, or, more commonly, such people are referred to as sociopaths). It is hard to know how to respond to such people. People who never had a conscience. Yes, they can do awful things — but will they be damned or will they, in the end, be healed? Secondly, I also think of kids born with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome — often born into poor and violent homes. Such kids often have their brains damaged in such a way that they are unable to empathise, and unable to understood the consequences of their actions. Again, it's just the way their brains are wired. I've known a few like this; some were gang-bangers, who had done some awful things, but I'm just not sure that they'll be damned in the end. They, too, might be healed. In such people, sinful actions are the symptom of an underlying brokenness — a brokenness they had absolutely no control over.
Similarly, for many of those who are not born broken, but are made broken, I cannot help but wonder if those who have not journeyed alongside of people who have experienced great traumas and violence, can really understand the true depth of the impact that trauma and violence can have — especially on children. If these children grow up to inflict violence upon others this is tragic, but I wonder to what degree they are culpable — or, rather, I wonder if I would have been able to grow up and be any different, or if any of us would. So, in the end, will these people be damned, or will they, like us, be healed, and made new?
I can't help but think of the scenario in Jn 8.1-11 involving the woman caught in adultery. I wonder, if at the moment of judgment, once we have been fully confronted with both our own sinfulness, our own complicity in the broader structures of sin, and the ways in which those who sinned against us have been sinned against, if what will result is similar to what happens to the woman. In 1 Cor 6.2, Paul tells us that the saints will judge the world. I wonder if this means that God will say “If any one of you is without sin, let him be the first to throw a stone.” I wonder then, if we are unable to throw stones, if God will also say to those being judged, “then neither do I condemn you. Come now and leave your life of sin.”
Out-geeking the Geek (R.I.P. ODB)
My oldest brother is a self-professed boardgame geek. In fact, he is such a game geek that, for Valentine’s Day, he wrote a a series of twenty-one poems for his wife… based on boardgames they played together. Not only that, but he posted those poems online (if you enjoy boardgames, you may want to check them out; cf. http://www.boardgamegeek.com/geeklist/29054).
Now, when we were much younger, my oldest brother and I used to send each other ‘hate poetry’, you know, he would write me a poem about ‘the crazies’ that I attracted, and I would respond with a poem about how he would die when his bowels exploded (he has Crohn’s).
Anyway, after reading my brother’s recent poems, I was inspired to write a poem roughly based upon some of my research, and (even more roughly) modeled after Triumph by the Wu-Tang Clan. This is my effort to ‘out-geek’ the geek. I’m turning this into a rap battle, baby!
[Parental/Evangelical Advisory: The Following Contains Explicit Lyrics.]
Triumph: Take II
The Wu-Tang Clan may have bombed atomically,
But I’m sittin here, and I’m droppin eschatology;
We’re not talkin mystery, we’re talkin historicity,
Rediscovering the Church, as political community.
Aight? Let me break it down for you. It goes like this:
Evangelicals have mapped out premillenial chronologies,
They’re waiting for the rapture, and damning all modernities
Waiting for the day, when the clouds are furled,
When Jesus Christ descends, they’ll yell ‘fuck the world!’
Cuz It’s all about the soul, in their Platonist cosmology,
But we’re still a far cry from any Pauline eschatology.
The Liberals be hatin’ on the Evangelical
They’ve got an education, and gone amillenial
Forget the tribulation, they don’t need a timetable
They focus more on action, and not some end-time fable.
So they’re chasing after causes (which are rather fine)
But all this eschatology is too faux Johannine.
Each in their own way are backing a lame horse
And failin to note the dominant discourse
Cuz it’s all economics ruling the globe
And we’re all renting space in cap’talism’s abode.
So in a world full of petit récits,
We must recourse to Pauline history
(which, of course, is eschatology).
Cuz Paul never thought about the world’s end,
He talked about the Spirit as God’s given dividend.
So while Neocons tell us, our lives are now consummated,
Paul knew, and we know, of a kingdom inaugurated;
Our Age is now perforated, and we won’t be sedated.
Cuz we are a people with memory and hope,
We don’t live in the moment, the man sells us like dope.
So we don’t buy the lie, he be tryin to sell us
About history arriving at its Hegelian telos.
About how this is all as good as it get,
We be followin’ Jesus, and fuckin that shit.
Like a virus we’re spreadin through Babylon
Proleptically anticipating the eschaton
And countering forces of globalisation
With the Spirit and power of God’s new creation.
So seize the day, seize the past, seize the future as well,
Or we’re all bound to freeze in a cap’talist hell.
Scattered Thoughts
When I was at work in the City Relief Society, before the [Chicago] fire, I used to go to a poor sinner with the Bible in one hand and a loaf of bread in the other… My idea was that I could open a poor man's heart by giving him a load of wood or a ton of coal when the winter was coming on, but I soon found out that he wasn't any more interested in the Gospel on that account. Instead of thinking how he could come to Christ, he was thinking how long it would be before he got another load of wood. If I had the Bible in one hand and a loaf [of bread] in the other the people always looked first at the loaf; and that was just contrary to the order laid down in the Gospel.
~ D. L. Moody
I recently had a conversation with a fellow from Latin America who was a part of a revolutionary movement in El Salvador back in the '70s. We got talking about the Canadian Welfare System, and he argued that it was a way of 'paying off the poor.' By that he meant that we give people enough money so that they will stay poor. They not take their fate into their own hands and take (revolutionary) action. Now I don't mean to get into the pros and cons of the Welfare System in this post, but I was struck by a comment he made about the poverty he saw in Latin America. 'Starvation,' he said, 'will remove all restraints, and all moral codes; when a person is starving nothing else matters.'
In this regard I can't help but think of the words penned by Bertolt Brecht:
You gentlemen who think you have a mission
To purge us of the seven deadly sins
Should first sort out the basic food position
Then start your preaching, that’s where it begins
You lot who preach restraint and watch your waist as well
Should learn, for once, the way the world is run
However much you twist or whatever lies that you tell
Food is the first thing, morals follow on
So first make sure that those who are now starving
Get proper helpings when we all start carving
Moody fails to realise three things: (1) the way in which poverty, cold, and starvation will dominate a person's existence; (2) the necessity of engaging in charity for charity's sake, which considers longterm problems and solutions, rather than engaging in momentary charity with ulterior motives; and, in the same vein, (3) the way in which charity and the Gospel go hand-in-hand and cannot be separated into some sort of hierarchical order. The Good News is both a Word we proclaim, and a meal that we share.
Finally, I would suggest a fourth thing that Moody has not recognised: the possibility that those who appear to reject his Gospel have, in actuality, accepted it by accepting him, but I've already written about that (cf. http://poserorprophet.livejournal.com/2004/10/30/).
January Books (better late than never?)
1. Spirit and the Politics of Disablement by Sharon V. Betcher.
Having happily stumbled into this nexus between liberation theology and disability theory at some point last year (when I read The Disabled God by Nancy Eiesland), I was eager to read what somebody else had to say on this subject. Thus, when I stumbled across Betcher’s book (who, like Eiesland, also writes on this topic as one who has been classified as ‘disabled’) I quickly worked my way through it.
What I think I have learned from those like Betcher and Eiesland is that disability is almost entirely due to social barriers and the biopolitics of capitalism which pushes various standards of normalcy and employability upon us. Thus, Betcher argues that, rather than seeing disability as a loss, or something to be overcome, disability can then become a place that provides us with a powerful alternative to, and critique of, empire and its “ideologies of normalcy”.
Now, all that is well and good, and Betcher does an excellent job of thinking through these things alongside of folks like Foucault, Deleuze, Hardt, and Negri. However, there was much about this book that I found to be frustrating. Particularly, I found her all-out rejection of the healing narratives, as well as Jesus’ resurrection, to be especially troubling — not only because of my own convictions, but because I think she is cutting her own legs out from under herself by arguing in this way. Betcher is opposed to these things because she thinks healing stories, including the story of the resurrection, have been used to support empire’s biopolitics — and there is certainly a great deal of truth in this. However, such stories can be used in other ways. For example, unlike Betcher, who wishes to discard the notions of healing and resurrection altogether, I would argue that all of us are awaiting the transformation of our bodies and, in this regard, both those who are temporarily disabled and those who are temporarily able bodied, are united in awaiting the new creation of all things — including themselves.
Additionally, Betcher appears to focus her argument solely upon those who have physical disabilities. However, when one factors in those with mental disabilities, perhaps we should not be so quick to discard all stories that point to transformation or, dare I say, healing. Granted, whether a person has one leg or two may be entirely irrelevant, but when a person regularly hears voices that tells him to kill himself (I know more than one person who has lived with these voices) then I think we shouldn’t be so hasty to say that all talk of transformation or healing is supporting the biopolitics of empire.
Finally, it is worth noting that Betcher is writing out of a rather ‘liberal’ theological tradition. As such, she appears to exhibit some religious syncretism, some discomfort with ‘orthodox’ Christianity, and I really can’t tell what the difference might be between her religious position and the dominant spirituality of Vancouver more broadly (she teaches at a theology school in Vancouver, but not at the one I attend).
2. Postmodernism, or, The Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism by Fredric Jameson.
I’m not entirely sure how to summarise this book as Jameson covers a lot of ground, a lot of sources, and a lot of topics in its 400 pages. Essentially, I think that Jameson is continuing to demonstrate the truth found in the Marxist thesis that it is the mode of production (the base) which is responsible for the shape a culture takes (the superstructure). Hence, he demonstrates how postmodernism — in various media and disciplines, from architecture, to alternative film, to theory, to economics — is an outworking of late capitalism — capitalism in its present form, which if focused upon commodification and the (recycling of) image. One of the major consequences of this is the loss of the historical, and it is the recovery of history (again, an important element of Marxism) that Jameson seems to especially desire.
Of course, there is much more that should be said about this book, it really is an exceptional study of modernism, postmodernism, and the thread that capitalism draws between the two as it develops out of one and into the other. My only complaint would be that I wished Jameson would be a little less anecdotal and cut to the chase more often — but, then again, given that Jameson is attempting to demonstrate cultural shifts, perhaps examples are necessary… it’s just that I don’t get too excited reading about alternative films being produced in the ’70s.
3. Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre.
This was my first time reading Sartre, and I enjoyed it a great deal. It seems to me that Sartre, like Wittgenstein, must be one of the central precursors to postmodernism (again, a sense of history helps remind us that there are very few ‘clean breaks’ between eras). In this novel, Sartre explores questions about history, epistemology, meaning and subjectivity. I don’t know what it is about the French but they are damn good at writing philosophy in a narrative form. I wish more people would do that.
4. Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett.
Well, I finally got around to reading this little play last month. I’ve never been a fan of reading plays — they are, after all, made for performing and viewing (which, by the way, was part of the reason why I have always thought that it was totally nuts that highschool students are made to read Shakespeare, year after year). To be honest, I’m still sitting on the fence with this one. I think I would like to go to see it before I make up my mind. Initially, I was rather unimpressed but, as I have continued to reflect on it, it has grown on me more and more. Not bad for a play wherein nothing happens!
5. Allah is Not Obliged by Ahmadou Kourouma
This is a book about child soldiers, written by a celebrated French African author. It’s damn good, but terribly depressing. Faforo! Gnamokode!
Sometimes I wonder why I keep reading about all these terribly depressing things. To put it simply, the world is fucked, and the more I learn about it, the more I learn about the depth of this brokenness, the more I feel like I’ve opened Pandora’s box and don’t know how to respond to everything that came flying out. On the one hand, I think we must educate ourselves about how fucked everything is but, on the other hand, I’m not sure what to do with that knowledge. Faforo! Gnamokode!
6. Introduction to Bhagavad-Gita by A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada.
This little book (really a fifty-page tract) was some fun reading. It was a nice refresher for me, as it has been awhile since I’ve read anything in relation to Hinduism, and it was fun to observe similarities with postmodern thought (take, for example, the ‘death of the subject’) and with Christianity (take, for example, Prbhupada’s argument that true knowledge of the Bhagavad-Gita comes only to those who are devotees in direct relationship with the Lord — I think Tom Wright says almost exactly the same thing about an epistemology of love in Surprised by Hope. Or, as another example, take Prbhupada’s emphasis upon tracing truth through discipilic succession, a point that should have our Roman Catholic friends nodding their heads!). Of course, at the end of the day, Hinduism, postmodern philosophy, and Christianity are often miles apart from each other, but that doesn’t mean there is no room for fruitful dialogue.
Performing Beauty: Embodiment in the Society of the Spectacle
I've been a little cautious about exploring the notion of beauty as a category within theology because, to be honest, I'm a little skeptical about it all (and I'm not at all well-read on the topic). Granted, there has been a long tradition of connecting the notion of beauty with theology and philosophy, and some exceptional contributions (like those of von Balthasar) but I can't help but wonder about why there has been such a contemporary resurgence on this topic, given that we live in an image-dominated society. It seems so… emergent (in the bad way). Regardless, I got thinking about the topic today and I wanted to write down my scattered thoughts before they drifted away.
(1) Guy Debord has aptly referred to our contemporary society as the Society of the Spectacle. By this he means that our society has become so image-based and image-obsessed that we have come to a place where social relations are mediated by image. Everything that had directly lived has now moved whole-heartedly into the realm of representation and relations between commodities have supplanted relations between people.
(2) Hence, we live in an imaginary society. It is imaginary because it is image-oriented, and it is imaginary because it moves us into the realm of virtuality and of representation, and away from the realm of the Real. An excellent example of this is a website like facebook, wherein people become virtual advertisements of themselves. (In this regard, I am reminded of a recent experience I had at work. A co-worker was telling me about a movie that he had seen and he described it in this way: “It was so facebook. You know, full of fictional characters that you end up falling in love with.”)
(3) The problem here is not that we are disciplined to be made into this or that image (although that is one of the symptoms of the problem). Rather, the problem is that our very identity is rooted in image.
(3) Consequently, it is within this context that Christians need to think about the notion of beauty.
(4) In particular, Christians need to think about beauty as an aspect of embodiment — embodiment divorced from the spectacle.
(5) So should we simply pursue a notion of embodiment that is imageless? I don't think so. We are, after all, told that we have been made in the image of God.
(6) Yet God, who has often been linked to the category of beauty, is unimage-able. God is said to be beautiful, and yet God cannot be seen.
(7) How is an unimage-able form of beauty embodied? How is it made known? Through action. This is how we have come to know God, and to know God as beautiful. We have not seen God but we have experienced God's actions, and we remember how God has acted in the past, and how God has promised to act in the future.
(8) Therefore, the embodiment of beauty that we seek, is one that is connected to action. In particular, it is the actions of the body of Christ — the Church — that reveal the beautiful.
(9) Thus, beauty falls under the category of doing, not seeing.
(10) In this way, the embodied performance of the beautiful becomes an alternative way of being-in-relation with one another, and counters the way of being (alone?) that is embodied within the Society of the Spectacle.
(11) Finally, this is also why I think that beauty does not exist as an indenpendent category but is a subcategory of love. Beauty is both that which we give to, and that which we discover within, the Beloved.
Equality and Indifference
Marx, in the Grundrisse, discusses the ways in which economic relations of exchange (wherein exchange-value overshadows and replaces use-value) produce equality amongst all those who participate within that system of exchange because all of the participants are reduced to the status of 'exchangers'. In this way, he argues that this system simultaneously masks the social tensions inherent to bourgeois society.
Now what I found particularly interesting is the way in which Marx connects the notion of equality to indifference. He writes:
Since they only exist for one another in exchange in this way [i.e. as exchangers]… they are, as equals, also indifferent to one another; whatever other individual distinction there may be does not concern them; they are indifferent to all their other individual particularities.
These comments continue to be relevant for Christians who are interested in finding their way within our contemporary context, wherein the economic predominates. Of course, one obvious point of application is to note the way in which Marx's comments further explain the deficient and reductionistic anthropology of capitalism. However, much has already been said about these things, and I maintain the the root problem with capitalism is not its anthropology (which is deficient and reductionistic!) but its theology, upon which its anthropology is premised. Indeed, I sometimes wonder if the focus on anthropology that one finds in many Christian responses to capitalism is simply another expression of the anthropocentricism of modern thought. Thus, Christian responses to capitalism that lay their central focus upon anthropology are frequently (but not always!) insufficient in at least two ways: (1) these responses remain caught within a form of thinking that is itself definitive of capitalism; and (2) these responses focus on a symptom rather than a cause.
Points about anthropology aside, what I found especially interesting about the quotation from Marx was the connection he made between inequality and indifference.
Sometime ago, I wrote a post entitled “What Reversal? (Confronting Myths of 'Equality')” (cf. http://poserorprophet.livejournal.com/102416.html), wherein I argued that the myth of equality is actually one of the keys to perpetuating inequality in our day to day living. That is to say, we have been told that we are all equal and this then becomes a way of engaging in victim blaming. If others do not have the happy, healthy life that I have, the obvious conclusion is that this is the case because those others are lazy, or immoral, or whatever. Thus, because we are all equal, we are exonerated from actually treating our neighbours as our equals.
Therefore, what I found intriguing about the quotation from Marx is that, while I was approaching the topic from the angle of the mythic stories told by our society, Marx was approaching the topic from the angle of the technical economic structures of society — and we came to the same conclusion!
This, I think, is a point that has not been sufficiently grasped by Christians who attempt to create social change through the avenues provided by the discourse of freedom, equality, and human rights. In my opinion, what these people (several of whom I consider close friends) tend to miss is the way in which that discourse continues to aid and perpetuate oppression, inequality, and degradation within our contemporary context. This is why it is not sufficient to simply appeal to the way in which such language has a long history within the Christian tradition. Regardless of where that discourse originated, and regardless of how it has been employed, the fact is that it cannot be employed in the same way today.
The proof, as they say, is in the pudding. Look at Christians in our society and what do we discover? Those who will defend equality until they are blue in the face, and those who simultaneously do nothing (and generally don't even think to do anything) about the fact that their neighbours are homeless.
Instead of pursuing equality, I suspect it may be better to begin to understand ourselves us douloi Christou, slaves of Christ, and in this way we may learn to share in the passion of God.
Seeking Contentment in a Broken World: Exploring Vicarious Trauma
While there is a lower class, I am in it, while there is a criminal element, I am of it, and while there is a soul in prison, I am not free.
~ Eugene V. Debs
This is the issue with which I am confronted: How can one live a contented life in a world that is torn and broken? How can one live joyfully while so many mourn? How can one experience a sense of ‘inner peace’ given the violence of the plotico-economic context in which we live? This, I realised, has been the topic driving my conversations with those near and dear to me, for quite some time now. Because I am not content, let alone joyful, and I am a long way away from experiencing anything akin to ‘inner peace.’
However, let me be clear about what is at stake here. What I am experiencing is not some sort of crisis about myself personally — I don’t think the problem comes down to me not doing enough, and I don’t think the problem comes down to me having some sort of ‘Messiah complex’ (as has been suggested, and was once the case half a dozen years ago). Indeed, the kicker about all of this is that it really isn’t about me. After all, I’ve got friends, family, and a wife who love me and who would drop everything for me, if that was what I needed. I’ve got a strong sense of being beloved by God, I’m healthy, I seem to be doing okay in school and work, and so on and so forth. I am not unhappy because anything in my life is lacking; I am unhappy because so much is lacking in the lives of others. Similarly, I am not unhappy because I am not doing enough (although one can always do more); I am unhappy because not enough is being done. What is breaking me is the brokenness around me, not any personal experience of brokenness per se.
I believe that the technical term for what I am experiencing right now is ‘vicarious trauma’, wherein one takes on the traumas of others (I reckon that this experience is also largely what many others refer to as ‘burn out’). I am aware of this, but this awareness does not resolve things because I cannot easily brush it aside and conclude that this is an experience I should avoid having. That is to say, I do not know how to love others and not feel this way. If those whom I love are being broken, shouldn’t I, in my love for them, also be broken? Isn’t this the model established by Jesus himself, as the image of the cruciform God who is broken out of his love for this broken world? Perhaps this vicarious trauma is a part of the process of laying down one’s life for those whom God loves; perhaps it is a part of the via dolorosa.
Of course, several people have been quick to tell me that if this is the road I go then I will quickly end up in a position where I am unable to help anybody in anyway because I’ll be so ‘burnt out’… however, like I said before, this really isn’t about me (and the difference that I make or don’t make). If I burn out once and for all, then I burn out once and for all. God doesn’t need me to save the world.
Speaking of God, others have pointed out that it is God who is saving the world, and so I don’t need to take the weight of the world onto my shoulders but can simply be contented with the little that I do on a day-to-day basis. I have mixed feelings about this. I, too, believe that God is saving the world, and will one day heal all of our wounds, wipe all our tears away, and make all things new… but that day has not yet arrived. Until that day brokenness continues. I do not know how to contentedly wait for that day. Certainly I long for it, I place all of my hope in it, but I cannot sit back and wait for it patiently. I want it to come now. I want God to say, “Enough.” Enough of all this bleeding, this killing, this shattering; enough of all this goddamn fucking shit. How much will be enough, Lord? I’ve had enough. Why do you linger, Lord? How long will you damn us with your absence?
This, then, is my final question: how can one find contentment in places of godforsakenness? For those of us who are worn down waiting for God, tired of seeing our friends bleed out, tired of watching The Brokenness settle ever more deeply into our loved ones, what does the notion of contentment offer us? Is such contentment possible? Is it appropriate?
I opened with a quote from Eugene V. Debs, a quote I discovered some year ago. I was first drawn to this quote because it sounded noble and romantic. Now I resonate with the quote on an altogether different level. Now I know that I too am not free. And so I am longing for a liberation that only God can bring.
But God, God is nowhere to be found.
Lord, have mercy.
Books of 2007
I’ve been hoping to write about a few things, but life has been rather hectic as my wife and I were looking for another place to live, and are now packing. Anyway, this is my book list of 2007. This year I fell short of my 100 book objective and only finished up 79 complete books. That means I’ve read about 280 books, cover-to-cover, over the last three years. In 2008, I suspect the number will continue to drop (damn you, thesis!), but I intend to read more 500+ page books, and worry less about the total number of books consumed. We’ll see how that goes.
Best Book(s): The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism by Naomi Klein, & Faith and Wealth: A History of the Early Christian Ideas on the Origin, Significance, and Use of Money by Justo Gonzalez.
It’s hard to pick a ‘best book’ out of last year’s books, but I think Klein’s book is is probably the most relevant to our day and age. If you want to learn about our own context (which is usually the most neglected aspect of hermeneutics) then read this book. Actually, just read it anyway. I paired it with the Gonzalez book, in part because I read the two books together and found that to be a very fruitful exercise, but also because Gonzalez shows us the standard set for us by the early Church and demonstrates the trajectory that the early Church was following (and, by implication, how far we have deviated from that trajectory). Reading these two books together changed me probably more than anything else I read this year.
Worst Book: Fragments: Cool Memories III, 1990-1995 by Jean Baudrillard.
It was hard to pick one book that stood out as much worse than the others. I was tempted to go with Ratzinger’s book on Jesus, or Hay’s book on economics (or even the last Harry Potter book), but I ended up with Baudrillard (even though the other books I read by him were exceptional) because Fragments hardly qualifies as a book. It’s more like a collection of aphorisms that Baudrillard puts together in order to try and deconstruct the form of the book itself. Yippee. Damn, I wish he had of continued along the vein of his earlier works.
Here’s the list, broken into various categories:
Theology/Spirituality/Christian Living (19 Books)
Best in Category: With the Grain of the Universe by Stanley Hauerwas (next to Gonzalez).
Worst in Category: A Cry of Absence by Martin Marty.
-Against the Stream: Shorter Post-War Writings, 1946-52 by Karl Barth.
-Church Dogmatics I.2: The Doctrine of the Word of God by Karl Barth.
-The Long Loneliness: An Autobiography by Dorothy Day.
-The Disabled God: Toward a Liberatory Theology of Disability by Nancy L. Eiesland.
-Francis of Assisi: Early Documents Vol. 1, The Saint edited by Regis J. Armstrong, O.F.M. Cap., J. A. Wayne Hellman, O.F.M. Conv., and William J. SHort, O.F.M.
-Faith & Wealth: A History of Early Christian Ideas on the Origin, Significance, and Use of Money by Justo L. Gonzalez.
-With the Grain of the Universe: The Church’s Witness and Natural Theology by Stanley Hauerwas.
-A Better Hope: Resources for a Church Confronting Capitalism, Democracy, and Postmodernity by Stanley Hauerwas.
-Joyful Exiles: Life in Christ on the Dangerous Edge of Things by James M. Houston.
-The Fear of Beggars: Stewardship and Poverty in Christian Ethics by Kelly S. Johnson.
-A Cry of Absence: Reflections for the Winter of the Heart by Martin E. Marty.
-Easy Essays by Peter Maurin.
-The Spirit of Life: A Universal Affirmation by Jurgen Moltmann.
-In the Name of Jesus: Reflections on Christian Leadership by Henri Nouwen.
-The Way of the Heart: Desert Spirituality and Contemporary Ministry by Henri Nouwen.
-God in the Slums: A Book of Miracles by Hugh Redwood.
-Conscience and Obedience: The Politics of Romans 13 and Revelations 13 in Light of the Second Coming by William Stringfellow.
-New Tasks for a Renewed Church by Tom Wright.
-Lament for a Son by Nicholas Wolterstorff.
Biblical Studies/Commentaries (16 Books)
Best in Category: A Biblical Theology of Exile by Daniel L. Smith-Christopher.
Worst in Category: A Long Way from Tipperary by John Dominic Crossan.
-Mandate to Difference: An Invitation to the Contemporary Church by Walter Brueggemann.
-In Search of Paul: How Jesus’s Apostle Opposed Rome’s Empire with God’s Kingdom by John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan L. Reed.
-God & Empire: Jesus Against Rome, Then and Now by John Dominic Crossan.
-A Long Way From Tipperary: A Memoir by John Dominic Crossan.
-Liberating Paul: The Justice of God and the Politics of the Apostle by Neil Elliott.
-Matthew by Stanley Hauerwas (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible).
-Religion and Empire: People, Power, and the Life of the Spirit by Richard A. Horsley.
-The Liberation of Christmas: The Infancy Narratives in Social Context by Richard A. Horsley.
-The Greco-Roman World of the New Testament Era: Exploring the Background of Early Christianity by James S. Jeffers.
-The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul by Wayne A. Meeks.
-Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus by Ched Myers.
-Rome in the Bible and the Early Church edited by Peter Oakes.
-Jesus, the Tribulation, and the End of Exile: Restoration Eschatology and the Origin of the Atonement by Brant Pitre.
-Jesus of Nazareth: From the Baptism in the Jordan to the Transfiguration by Joseph Ratzinger.
-Honor, Patronage, Kinship & Purity: Unlocking New Testament Culture by David A. deSilva.
-A Biblical Theology of Exile by Daniel L. Smith-Christopher.
Philosophy/Economics/Socio-Political Commentary (32 Books)
Best in Category: The Consumer Society by Jean Baudrillard (next to Klein).
Worst in Category: From Beirut to Jerusalem by Thomas L. Friedman (next to Fragments).
-Jihad vs. McWorld: How Globalism and Tribalism are Reshaping the World by Benjamin R. Barber.
-Mythologies by Roland Barthes.
-Forget Foucault by Jean Baudrillard.
-Fragments: Cool Memories III, 1990-1995 by Jean Baudrillard.
-The System of Objects by Jean Baudrillard.
-The Consumer Society: Myths and Structures by Jean Baudrillard.
-Man on His Own: Essays in the Philosophy of Religion by Ernst Bloch.
-Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia (Vol 1), by Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari.
-Specters of Marx: The State of Debt, the Work of Mourning and the New International by Jacques Derrida.
-After Theory by Terry Eagleton.
-Marxism and Literary Criticism by Terry Eagleton.
-Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews & Other Writings, 1972-1977 by Michel Foucault (edited by Colin Gordon).
-Capitalism and Freedom by Milton Friedman.
-From Beirut to Jerusalem by Thomas L. Friedman.
-Economics Today: A Christian Critique by Donald A. Hay.
-An Introduction to Metaphysics by Martin Heidegger.
-The Worldly Philosophers: The Lives, Times & Ideas of the Great Economic Thinkers by Robert L. Heilbroner.
-The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism by Naomi Klein.
-A user’s guide to Capitalism and Schizophrenia: Deviations from Deleuze and Guatarri by Brian Massumi.
-The Manifesto of the Communist Party by Karl Marx and Frederick Engels.
-Utilitarianism by John Stuart Mill.
-Confessions of an Economic Hitman by John Perkins.
-In Plain Sight: Reflections on Life in Downtown Eastside Vancouver edited by Leslie Robertson and Dara Culhane
-Derrida and Religion: Other Testaments edited by Yvonne Sherwood & Kevin Hart.
-Fascism: what it is and how to fight it by Leon Trotsky.
-Candide: Or, Optimism by Voltaire.
-The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism by Max Weber.
-Selling Olga: Stories of Human Trafficking and Resistance by Louisa Waugh.
-Culture and Value by Ludwig Wittgenstein.
-How to Read Lacan by Slavoj Zizek.
-On Belief by Slavoj Zizek.
-The Puppet and the Dwarf: The Perverse Core of Christianity by Slavoj Zizek.
Fiction/Poetry/Graphic Novels (12 Books)
Best in Category And No Birds Sang by Farley Mowat.
Worst in Category Love is a Dog from Hell by Charles Bukowski.
-Love is a Dog from Hell: Poems 1974-1977 by Charles Bukowski.
-Sloth by Gilbert Hernandez
-Watchmen by Alan Moore (illustrated by Dave Gibbons).
-Batman: Year One written by Frank Miller and illustrated by David Mazzucchelli.
-5 People who Died During Sex: And 100 Other Terribly Tasteless Lists by Karl Shaw.
-Batman: The Dark Knight Returns by Frank Miller (with Klaus Janson and Lynn Varley).
-And No Birds Sang by Farley Mowat.
-The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje.
-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J. K. Rowlings.
-The Jungle by Upton Sinclair.
-Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner.
-The Secret Lives of Men and Women compiled by Frank Warren.
December Books
Well, I have been away for a little while visiting family and friends and checking out a few job options in Toronto; thus, my December books are a little late. Here they are:
1. The Liberation of Christmas: The Infancy Narratives in Social Context by Richard A. Horsley.
This here book was my Advent reading. One of my plans, as I try to begin to follow the Church calendar more closely, is to structure some of my reading around that calendar. I figured this would be a good place to start, and I wasn’t mistaken. Horsley provides a great socio-political read of Lk 1-2, and Mt 1-2 (a reading, it should be noted, that the texts themselves legitimise and prioritise). Now, although I don’t agree with everything Horsley has to say (for example, I think he is too quick to relinquish the category of ‘eschatology’ to his opponents), I actually ended up concluding that this is some of his best material (which rather surprised me given that nobody seems to have heard of this book, and that it is now only printed on demand). I highly recommend it to any for the Advent season, and for pastors in particular as they lead their churches through Advent and into Christmas.
2. A Biblical Theology of Exile by Daniel L. Smith-Christopher.
This book is a fantastic blend of biblical theology, hermeneutics, postcolonial and refugee studies, as well as disaster theory and continental philosophy. I loved it and think that it was one of the best that I’ve read this year — not least because it provided me with a great lens through which to view all of the Old Testament (that lens, of course, is the lens of exile). There were many things that I found to be thought-provoking and exciting. For example, the author argues that the exilic redactors rewrite the narrative histories of Israel’s monarchy and prior military prowess in a deliberately negative manner and thereby espouse a narrative theology that is premised upon an embrace of exile and a refusal of national (and other worldly forms) of power. Damn good stuff.
3. Against the Stream: Shorter Post-War Writings, 1946-52 by Karl Barth.
As the title suggests, this book is a compilation of material from Barth written after WWII. It mainly deals with issues involving the Church and the State. Certainly there is a great deal of material here that lays the foundation for a postliberal theology (indeed, I forget who said it, but Barth might well be classified the first postliberal theologian) but there are also significant points of difference. Barth, for example, ends up being much more positive about the State, and seems to offer a position between the Niebuhrians and the Hauerwasians (even though I suspect he is closer to the Hauerwasians on Church/State issues). Thus, I found this book to be both encouraging and challenging — which makes it just right.
4. In the Name of Jesus: Reflections on Christian Leadership by Henri Nouwen.
I don’t usually have much time to completely reread books that I have already read, but when I do so I usually find myself rereading Nouwen (both because his books are so poignant and so short). My wife and I worked through this book in our devotions in December. I always find Nouwen to be a wonderful reminder of some of the core issues of faith and living.
5. A Cry of Absence: Reflections for the Winter of the Heart by Martin E. Marty.
After reading Wolterstorff’s Lament last month, I figured I would read Marty’s lament (this book was written after he had lost his first wife to cancer) as one of my professor’s tends to mention these books in tandem (and as this book was on sale for 25 cents in my school library). I can’t say that I enjoyed it all that much. I had some trouble enjoying Marty’s voice, which I found to be rather journalistic, as well as his content — he essentially made the same main point over and over (i.e. not all Christians have to be happy and feel good all the time — thanks!). I don’t know… it seems like a lot of people have really been touched by this book, so maybe it’s just me (maybe I lose track of the fact that the freedom to be unhappy can be a big deal in certain Christian circles). I guess part of my problem was Marty’s use of the Psalms, which I have always had trouble getting into and enjoying, so I guess that probably suggests the problem was more mine than Marty’s. Oh well.
6. In Plain Sight: Reflections on Life in Downtown Eastside Vancouver edited by Leslie Robertson and Dara Culhane.
This book presents the stories of seven women from the neighbourhood in which I live, as they told those stories to the editors of this book. It is always a challenge to tell such stories because one desires to be honest, yet one fears romanticisation, exploitation, and so on and so forth. However, these are the stories that these seven women want to tell, and they seem to negotiate the tensions of story-telling quite well. If you’re interested in learning more about my ‘hood, and the people there, this is probably a good place to start.
A Time of Longing: O Come, O Come, Emmanuel
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.
Christmas is a hard time of year for a lot of people, and especially for those who are street-involved. For a lot of people, Christmas is a reminder of the family they don’t have (and maybe never had) a reminder of the ways in which they are unable to provide for children that they hardly (if ever) see, and a reminder that a great deal of peace and joy are absent from their lives. A lot of people relapse during this season. A lot of people commit suicide. A few weeks ago, one of my friends relapsed on crack cocaine. Last week, rumour has it, a young man involved in a program that I participate in, killed himself.
O come, Thou Wisdom from on high,
Who orderest all things mightily;
To us the path of knowledge show,
And teach us in her ways to go.
Even for those of us who are not street-involved, Christmas is often marked by a fundamental dissatisfaction. As we put in the mandatory family time, we are reminded of how messed up our own families are, and of how messed up we ourselves are. We are reminded of how incapable we are of giving good gifts to others, and so we drive ourselves deeper and deeper into debt and exchange commodities with one another — commodities that, more often than not, simply function as simulacra of gifts.
O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny;
From depths of hell Thy people save,
And give them victory over the grave.
In fact, Christmas has become the biggest structure of debt-perpetuation within the societies of late capitalism. Over forty percent of annual consumption in America occurs in the four weeks between (American) Thanksgiving and Christmas. In this way, Christmas, rather than being a festival of liberation, becomes a festival that ensure that we remain in bondage to the socio-economic Powers of our day.
O come, Thou Day-spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Indeed, as the high-festival of late capitalism, Christmas is intentionally structured to leave us dissatisfied. It is presented in a way that stimulates insatiable desires within us and so, regardless of what we give or receive, our desires are left unsated. After a momentary euphoria, we are left scratching our heads and wondering why we feel so empty.
O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
Thus, oddly enough, Christmas, as it is celebrated today, leaves us feeling exactly what we should feel — longing. It leaves us longing for something more, longing for a home, longing for intimacy with others, longing to give, and receive, good gifts. Therefore, rather than trying to satisfy these longings in superficial ways, Christians are called to embrace these longings and refuse to be satisfied with anything less than the coming of Christ. We are, all of us, longing for the coming of the Lord who will heal our wounds, release us from bondage, and forgive us our debts. We are, all of us, in desperate need of the advent of God-with-us.
O come, Desire of nations, bind
In one the hearts of all mankind;
Bid Thou our sad divisions cease,
And be Thyself our King of Peace.
Thus, as we await the coming of our Lord, we must huddle together for warmth, we must learn to create shelters for one another and risk the vulnerability of intimacy. We must learn how to give, and receive, gifts that will sustain us in our exile — gifts of hope, of encouragement, and of solidarity. In this strange land, we must learn to sing the Lord’s Song and, as a community, we will learn to sing these strange, counter-intuitive words:
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel, shall come to thee, O Israel.