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.
A Politics of Shame: Proclaiming Peace with Penance
These prophetic calls to shame [i.e. the 'penitential prayers'] in the context of history are not calls to a paralyzing personal guilt or humiliation. It is a call to recognize the constant failures of living according to the alternative ideals and values—universally identified in the penitential prayers as the Mosaic laws. Shame, therefore, is not a psychology, it is a politics…
Radical nonconformity for the exilic communities means the creation of a radically different identity from that exemplified by the period of the monarchy, and this requires a heightened sense of the shame of acting in other ways….
In the end, shame is a mark of honesty—it is an admission that allows transformation because it offers hope that the new way will not repeat the acknowledged mistakes of the old way.
~ Daniel Smith-Christopher, A Biblical Theology of Exile, 120-22.
We are accustomed to thinking of shame as something to be avoided at all costs. In a twofold sense, shame makes us 'feel bad' — it makes us feel uncomfortable, and it makes us feel as though we, ourselves, are 'bad'. However, in the passage quoted above, Smith-Christopher suggests that shame, when properly employed, can be a very good thing.
In A Biblical Theology of Exile, Smith-Christopher argues that the so-called Deuteronomistic History (Deut-2 Ki) was significantly redacted and rewritten by exilic or postexilic authors, who rejected the power-politics of Israel's monarchy, and presented the kings and leaders of Israel in a negative light so that Israel would be able to discover a more faithful way of following the (sociopolitical) Law that is laid out in Deuteronomy. The past, as well as some present efforts, are presented as shame-full so that a new way of being in the present can be discovered and a new future can become possible.
Contemporary Christians must also recover this positive use of shame in relation to their past and some of their present efforts. Here two things must be avoided. First of all, rather than attempting to disassociate themselves from the history of Christianity — and Christendom, in particular — Christians must choose to carry the shame that comes with that name. Thus, for example, rather than eschewing the name 'Christian', those who acknowledge the Lordship of Jesus (and depend on the fellowship of those in Christ) must choose to identify themselves as such, fully aware of the baggage that comes with that language.
Secondly, rather than romanticising past Christian involvement in power-politics, Christians must begin to look for a new way forward, embodied in an embrace of an exilic existence in the present. Of course, even in Israel's exile there were those who longed for a restoration of power. This is the position that is prominently displayed in 1 Maccabees, and in the various Jewish nationalistic revolutionary movements found in Palestine at the time of Jesus. 1 Maccabees, and many of the Jewish rebel movements refused exile as a state of existence, and sought a return to sociopolitical power. However, although this option was open to Jesus (let us not forget the presence of revolutionaries in his inner circle), he ends up rejecting it, and the Church, and contemporary Christians, must do the same.
Here, Jeremiah's counsel, 'the word of the Lord', to the exile's in Babylon is especially relevant:
Build houses and live in them; and plant gardens and eat their produce… Seek the peace of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the LORD on its behalf (cf. Jer 29).
This passage is commonly quoted — but by those who exhibit a nostalgia for Christendom. It is usually quoted by those who seek to justify Christian involvement in power-politics, in corporate business, and so on and so forth. However, that is not the point that Jeremiah is trying to make. Rather, what Jeremiah is doing is telling the people to declare an armistice and cease fighting (violently) with the Babylonians. To build homes, and plant gardens, requires the people of Israel to 'beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks' (cf. Is 2.4; Mic 4.3). Thus, rather than seeing this passage from Jer 29 as a justification for Christian involvement in violent structures of power, it is better understood as an appeal to the people of God to abandon all aspirations to power, as that power is understood by the political and corporate structures of this world.
This, then, is what the politics of shame requires of us: it requires us to remember our shame-full past, and to confess our connection to that past, thereby ensuring that we do not repeat that past. Rather than longing for a return to power, we must embrace our status as a pilgrim people, sojourning in exile until the day when God descends to earth and welcomes us into the heavenly city, the New Jerusalem, our true home.
The same approach applies not only to Christian attachments to power, but also to our attachments to wealth, comfort, and privilege. Given God's solidarity with the poor, and given the requirement to share all things with 'the least of these', I believe that we must, once again, be confronted with the shamefulness of our wealth, comfort, and privilege. Yes, when we have so much in a world where so many have so little, we should feel ashamed — especially if we profess to follow the God of the bible.
I am reminded of a conversation I once had with an undergraduate student about these things. When speaking in a class at a Bible College about God's preferential option for the poor, and the need for solidarity with the crucified people of today, a student raised his hand and, after noting that he was not very involved in such things, asked me 'should I feel guilty?' (cf. http://poserorprophet.livejournal.com/101527.html). Were I to answer that question today, I think I would say the following: “I don't know if you should feel 'guilty', but I do think you should feel ashamed.”
This, I think, is a part of what it means to follow in the footsteps of those like Saint Francis — those who proclaimed peace with penance. Peace is not possible apart from penance, and penance is not possible without shame. Here, I am reminded of the words of Dorothy Day:
Everyone of us who was attracted to the poor had a sense of guilt, of responsibility, a feeling that in some way we were living on the labour of others… Many left the work… because of their own shame. But enduring the shame is part of our penance (The Long Loneliness, 204, 216).
Yet how can we bear all this shame? Once we realise the extent of it all, it is so easy to become overwhelmed by it. Indeed, I think that we frequently do not embrace our shame, but rather run from it, precisely because it is so overwhelming.
It is the prior knowledge and experience of ourselves as God's beloved that allows us to carry our shame. Just as forgiveness enables repentance, so our being accepted by God enables us to confront our own shamefulness. Thus, rather than immediately removing all of our shame from us, God's embrace allows us to fully carry our shame for the first time. We rejoice because we are forgiven sinners, but we remember that we are forgiven sinners.
Furthermore, not only are we now enabled to carry our shame, but in this way our shame is carried away as we begin to discover new ways of sharing life together as members of a whole created order that groans under exilic conditions as it eagerly awaits the 'glorious freedom of the children of God' (cf. Ro 8). Thus, our shame is not, as Smith-Christopher says, a paralysing sense of personal guilt. Rather, our shame becomes an avenue to our own liberation, and the liberation of those around us.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Favourite Biblical Passages
A little while ago a few bibliobloggers ran some posts wherein they listed their favourite verses from the bible. This got my wheels turning as I really hadn't thought about that idea since highschool. Back then, I had several favourite verses that I felt God had given especially to me (for example, Ps 27.10 — “my father and my mother have forsaken me, but the Lord will take me up” — meant quite a lot to me). Since then, my favourite passages have changed a little. Certainly some of my current favourites resonate with my own experiences, but others resonate with me because I think they capture broader aspects of the biblical narrative and the character of God. So here they are (in no particular order):
1. Ro 8.
To me, this chapter says it all: liberation through the victory won by Jesus and the indwelling of his Spirit, which transforms us into child-heirs of God; the groanings of creation, the saints, and the Spirit; the hopeful anticipation of what is to come; and the glory of God's unquenchable and ever-present love for us, even in the midst of suffering.
2. Phil 2.5-11, Mt 5.3-12; & Ro 12.9-21.
PHIL: Michael Gorman refers to this passage as 'Paul's master story' and the narrative centre of Paul's theology and I'm inclined to agree with him (cf. Cruciformity: Paul's Narrative Spirituality of the Cross). This passages summarises the cruciform nature of God's love and God's power and, IMHO, provides the narrative outline of how we are to live as disciples of Christ and God's restored humanity.
MT: I think that this passage best captures the 'identity markers' of those who are in Christ. These characteristics should be the 'badges of membership' of those within the Church. I try to pray through this passage everyday — Lord, make us poor in Spirit so that we can have the kingdom of heaven; Lord, make us mourn, so that we can be comforted; Lord, make us meek so that we can inherit the earth; and so on and so forth.
RO: This passage continues the theme of 'identity markers' or 'badges of membership' that are definitive of those in Christ. The theme of (victorious) suffering love, which is especially evidenced in forgiveness, empathy, and solidarity, is especially strong.
3. Lk 4.14-21 & Is 58.6-8.
LK: I've frequently referred to this passage of Jesus' 'manifesto' and I think that it is here, in the very first words that Jesus speaks in his public ministry, that Jesus summarises what he is all about: good news for the poor, healing, liberation, release — all of these things are elements of the end of exile, which means, of course, the forgiveness of sins. This passage reveals the total interrelatedness of the spiritual and the material and I think sets the agenda for how we go about proclaiming (in word and deed) the gospel today.
IS: This passage is one of many in the prophetic tradition that provide the foundation for the mission and ministry of Jesus in particular, and the people of God in general. Again, the connection between the spiritual and material is emphasised and a good many other passages in Is and the other prophets emphasise that those who separate the two create disasters for others and are heading for disaster themselves (cf. Is 1-2).
4. Is 63.15-64.12 & Mk 15.34.
IS: This passage is one of the most heart-rending laments found in the bible. It is a desperate cry from an utterly godforsaken place. It is this passage that comes to my mind more frequently than any other when I bring God the prayers of the people with whom I journey. I still remember the first time I stumbled across it. I had only just begun working at a drop-in for street-involved youth in Toronto, and I remembering crying (hard!) when I ran across this passage in my devotions. Here is a voice, a voice within Scripture itself, that expresses the hope of the hopeless, and the longing for God to return to the groaning places of the world and make us all new. God is the only alternative that we have, and if God does not 'tear the heavens and come down' then we are irrevocably lost.
MK: This passage connects to the passage from Is. Here we discover the revelation of God with the godforsaken. Here is a God who has come down, and he has come so far down that he is even found with us in hell. From this point on, this passage tells us, the love of God reaches for us, finds us, journeys alongside of us, and leads us out of hell itself.
5. Gal 5.1 & Acts 2.42-47; 4.32-35.
GAL: Freedom is a major theme in the New Testament, and it is worth remembering the emphasis on freedom as we live in a society where we feel like we are anything but free. We free trapped under overwhelming powers political-economic powers, and find ourselves enslaved through structures of consumption, accumulation, credit, and debt. Thus, if we have been set free and are to remain free, we must remember Paul's injunction to refuse other yokes.
ACTS: The model of the Church in Acts, a model that was continued by the majority of the Church for the next few hundred years (and by a minority of the Church until this day) is, IMHO, the model of how we are to live together in freedom refusing other yokes of slavery. Again, we are reminded of the interconnectedness of the spiritual and the material, and we are reminded that 'freedom from' sin and death is also 'freedom for' service and life.
6. Rev 21.1-5
This passage, IMHO, summarises what we are all longing for. The day when God comes to make his dwelling among us, the day when God makes all things new, the day when God wipes every tear from our ears, heals all of our wounds, and puts an end to death and mourning. Maranatha, come quickly, Lord Jesus!