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

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

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

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

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

Here is my love and anger,
These are my gods, these are my scars.
Here is my love and anger,
My arms are burning, but they're open wide.
– The Indigo Girls
It is true that I am sometimes angry. And instantly objections abound… how is such anger worthwhile? Is anger not detrimental to the causes I am pursuing? Anger does little to enact reconciliation, anger does little to spark apathetic hearts to repentance.
Of course suggesting that I should not be angry only reveals how apathetic people are. When you begin to live a life of radical compassion then you will have gained a position to speak about anger. Until then I'm not sure that you know what you're talking about.
You see, my friends are dying. And not by tragedies that can't be prevented. My friends are being killed. They are children dying because they are surrounded by people who are incapable of feeling anything strongly — except selfishness.
And my friends are being raped quite regularly. By johns, by cops, by friends, by fathers. My friends are being raped.
And my friends are being tortured. They are girls who have cigarettes put out on their thighs. They are boys who's abdomens are covered with stab wounds. They are prostitutes getting their toes cut off for running away.
And I am here with them. I am here loving them, knowing that they don't have to die, don't have to be raped, don't have to be tortured. But knowing that they are essentially hopeless because those who should be committed to journeying with them have abandoned them. And so I can only cry with them. I can love them as they die.
And I shouldn't be angry? I wonder how you would feel if your daughters were raped. What would you know of anger when your loved ones are beaten to death? When your loved ones are tortured? When your loved ones are driven to “sucking cock for rock”?
No. Do not take this anger from me. This anger is an element of prophetic mourning, which in turn is a part of participating in the broken heart of God. There is a place for anger. We cannot dismiss it a priori.
I only ask that you learn to love me enough to allow me moments to express my broken-heartedness with angry words. If you loved me enough you would allow me the space to do that.
You see the thing is that, even in the midst of anger, I do not speak against individual people. I curse systems of oppression, systems of wealth, and perverted Christianity, I curse the idols of our times — I do not curse individual people. I do not name names. People should not take offence to such curses.
Yet they do. I can only conclude that this is because they have worshiped the idols of our times and as a result they have been formed in the image of the idols. The Bible teaches clearly that we become like that which we worship. In that case to curse the idols also ends up cursing the person who is the image of the idols.
I am mourning. I am mourning the murder, the rape, the torture of my friends. I am mourning the fact that my friends are essentially hopeless. I am mourning the fact that Christians have been worshiping idols instead of worshiping the living God. I am mourning the fact that they are forsaken and I can only suffer with them, I cannot bring an exodus — because the people of God will not allow such a thing. And so I mourn. And I curse. And I weep. And I love.
Take away my anger and you take away my empathy — while revealing your own inability to journey in intimacy with others as you embrace something far more comfortable. The idols, after all, are predictable. They're safe. They're not full of surprises. They may not be great at loving us but they're always there for us.
However, the God who weeps, and curses, and loves, is not so safe. Not so comfortable. Not so predictable. And we may also discover that, by abandoning the oppressed, this God is not always there for us.
In which case we already are fucked.
Hey, Jesus, it's me. I don't usually talk to you but my baby's gonna leave me, and there's something you must do. I am not your faithful servant, I hang around sometimes with a bunch of your black sheep, but if you make my baby stay, I'll make it up to you and that's a promise i will keep.
Hey, Jesus, it's me. I'm the one who talked to you yesterday and I asked you please, please for a favor but my baby's gone away, went away anyway and I don't really think it's fair. You've got the power to make us all believe in you and then we call you in our despair, and you don't come through.
Hey, Jesus, it's me, I'm sorry. I don't remember all I said, I had a few, no, too many and they went straight to my head. Made me feel like I could argue with god but you know, it's easy for you. You got friends all over the world, you had the whole world waiting for your birth but now I ain't got nobody, I don't know what my life's worth.
I'm not gonna call on you anymore. I'm sure you've got a million things to do. All I was trying to do was to get through to you. Get through to you because when I die and I get up to your doors I don't even know if you're gonna let me in the place. How come I gotta die to get a chance to talk to you face to face?
– The Indigo Girls
Oh, you lift me through my love and anger,
You see now, these are my gods, these are your scars.
Lift me through my love and anger,
Oh, when my arms are burning, and they're open wide.
– The Indigo Girls

Well I'm betting Abe is the only one who actually reads this all the way through. I love you Abe!
The Prophetic Cry of Forsakenness: Theological Reflections on Isaiah 63.7-64.12
Introduction
Harold Kushner, in his now famous book about suffering, concluded that, although God is sovereign and loving, there are tragedies that God cannot prevent. Some things are beyond even God's power. Instead of viewing tragedies as preventable, instead of holding God responsible, the people of God must “learn to love and forgive [God] despite his limitations.” God does not cause calamities to happen. God does not wish us harm. All God can do is journey with us and give us the strength to overcome.
Although Kushner writes as a Jewish Rabbi many Christians adopt a similar attitude. God, it is said, is a God of love. He will never leave us nor forsake us. Yes, there are times of calamity, but God is not the cause of such tragedies, nor does God abandon us in the midst of those tragedies. In the midst of every disaster Christians claim that they can still be certain that God is with them. Above all else Christians cling to the promise in Hebrews that God will never leave nor forsake his people.
As comfortable as such theologies may be, they present a deceivingly one-sided view of Scripture. The words of Isaiah 63.7-64.12 violently contradict Kushner's words. Over against the type of comfort offered by false prophets who proclaim, “peace, peace,” when there is no peace, the prophet of God cries out in pain, in uncertainty, and in forsakenness. No, the prophet says, God is not with us. God has abandoned us. And shall we be saved? Such comfortable theologies also reflect an unwillingness to truly deal with the present experience of suffering. Kushner's theology is a reflection of a contemporary propensity to live in denial, pretending that nothing is wrong. Kushner theologises people out of their historical existence. As Jacques Ellul says, “We are skilled at camouflaging our bondage by calling it freedom or by describing some counterfeit as freedom.” To this it may be added that we have become skilled at hiding forsakenness by calling it companionship, or offering some counterfeit as intimacy with God.
To be able to speak into suffering the people of God must be willing to take seriously such passages as Isaiah 63.7-64.12. Such laments cannot be excluded from the canon of Scripture that informs and shapes Christian living. This passage reveals an affirmation of, and prophetic participation in, the cry of forsakenness. This affirmation and participation is based upon a radical remembering and a radical hoping that are both rooted in the character of God.
Prophetic Remembering and Forsakenness
Isaiah 63.7-14 begins the lament by speaking to God about God. The passage speaks of God's love, and covenant faithfulness, as it has been revealed over the course of Israel's history and especially in the exodus event. God is continually described as the one who personally delivers his people. God is reminded of the way in which he created Israel as a people, the way in which he brought them out of Egypt, through the Red Sea, and through the wilderness to a place of rest.
This act of remembering is devastating in light of the context from which the prophet is writing. For, as the prophet describes throughout the remainder of the passage, currently it seems that God is neither, loving, merciful, or active. Instead of tearing the heavens and coming down, causing the mountains to shake (as happened at Sinai), it seems that God remains aloof and distant from his people. As a result the hearts of the people have been hardened and the sanctuary of God has been destroyed. The people are withering away, Zion is a wilderness, Jerusalem is desolate, and the Temple has become a ruin burned by fire. This remembering causes the prophet to conclude that God must have forsaken his people. The God who had previously acted so powerfully on behalf of his people has stopped acting on their behalf. Therefore, the first result of prophetic remembering is an affirmation of the present state of forsakenness. The people's separation from the Lord is experienced as a separation from the past. What is being experienced now does not make sense in light of the way in which God has revealed himself before. Over against those who would argue that God is always there the prophet says, no, God has forsaken us. In the language of forsakenness the prophet is able to find a symbol that adequately portrays the horror that has produced numbness and mass denial in the people. By speaking with such passionate grief, by mourning the prophet radically confronts those who have become numb to the situation and those who seek to deny that anything is wrong.
However, while this remembering affirms forsakenness it also directly challenges it. By remembering how God has acted the prophet challenges God, asking if he has changed or decided to be false to his people. Has God forgotten the glory of his name? The plight of his people makes it seem like he is no ruler at all. In this act of remembering the prophet grabs hold of God and refuses to let go. In the present experience of forsakenness the only thing the prophet has is the memories of God and so the prophets holds fast to them. The one remembering gives the Lord no rest until he fulfils at that has been promised. By remembering the prophet calls God to act as the true God, and not as the idols. Over against the idols that are deaf, dumb, and helpless, the prophet calls God to see, to hear, and to act. Remembering argues that the God who is silent is no God at all, it says to God, “I summon you not to be an idol, not to act like a false god, since I know you are God, I summon you to speak.” By asking God to change his mind, the prophet is essentially asking God to repent of the way that he is acting. And he is not just asking, the verb form used in 63.17 is the imperative. By remembering the prophet is calling God to “Return! Turn! Repent!” This is faith that will not let God go. By recognising that the root of the current tragedy is the experience of godforsakenness the prophet also recognises that there is no human way to escape this tragedy. Nowhere in this passage does the reader find a suggestion that there is anything that the people can do in order to restore fellowship with God. What the people need is for God to return to them. The cry of forsakenness is an affirmation of the people's helplessness and a recognition of their absolute dependence upon God. As such it is an act of worship. To cry out in forsakenness is not to slander God, or profess faithlessness, rather it is a profound act of worship in the midst of a truly terrible situation. It affirms that God, and only God, is the one who is capable of breaking into history and enacting salvation.
This worship is a form of confession. The cry of forsakenness is also a cry that recognises the sins of the people. God has changed because his Spirit has been grieved. The people have wounded the holiness of God and, because of this, things cannot remain as they have been. God, who was once their friend, has now become their enemy. God's silence is rooted in the fact that God has been rejected by his people. As a result of the people's sin and God's silence, God has hardened the hearts of his people. God showed the way that would bring blessing and the people rejected it. Even after judgement was enacted the people continued in their sin. Their sinfulness was found in the fact that God's people did not call on him for help in the time of their need, or seek him in their times of crisis. The people were not interested in the Lord, they neglected him as an object of worship and a source of strength, and so the Lord hid his face from them.
However, by engaging in this confessional worship and crying out to God the prophet is calling out in a time of need, and seeking God in a time of crisis. The prophet's cry of forsakenness is a form of true worship and a desperate acknowledgement of God as the only source of strength for his people. Because God has hardened the hearts of the people only he can once again restore them. If God did not act because he was forgotten the prophetic cry of forsakenness is a genuine act of repentance, a genuine act of turning back to God. Thus the prophet's final question is, after all this — after this confession, acknowledgement, exposition and repentance — will God still withhold love?
However, the final question remains unanswered. The prophetic experience of forsakenness is also accompanied by a genuine experience of uncertainty. Although the prophet remembers what God has done, the genuine nature of present abandonment creates uncertainty about the future. To join in the cry of forsakenness is to also participate in a lack of knowing what exactly the future holds. In forsakenness the prophet can no longer cling to assurances or hasty confidences. This is a grief that cannot to quickly offer or embrace any words of comfort. The uncertainty of the prophet reveals that the forsakenness experienced is genuine. Cries of forsakenness that do not contain this element are mockeries or shams erected by false prophets and hollow sympathisers.
Prophetic Hope and Forsakenness
Despite the uncertainty that accompanies forsakenness, the prophet does not cry out because of hopelessness. Rather, the cry of forsakenness is one that is thoroughly grounded in hope. It is grounded in hope because remembering is a hopeful act. As the Jewish proverb says, we read the Torah because it is our future we are remembering. Remembering is grounded in hope because it recalls the intimate relationship God has with his people. God is their Father, and their Creator. Because there are his children, they can cry to be brought home, and hope to be heard, despite their sinfulness.
It is hope that dares to challenge God. It is hope that engages in the blasphemous activity of rejecting God's decision to be silent. The protest raised is raised not because God has revealed himself to be a false source of hope, but because God is the root of all hope. Hope is not living peacefully in the midst of tragedy, it is not sitting calmly waiting for everything to change and get better. Rather it is and indictment of God in the name of the Word of God. Therefore, the cry of forsakenness is exactly the opposite of resignation. To claim that one is abandoned is not to resign oneself to abandonment; rather it is to name the abandonment for what it is, in hope that this will bring change. Hope refuses to say simply yes or no to abandonment. To simply say yes is to resign oneself to it. To simply say no is to deny the situation altogether. Therefore, hope says yes and no, recognising the current state of affairs, confessing sins, and clinging to the transforming power of God's promises.
It is hope that allows the prophet to recognise that all human attempts to overcome the tragedy are bound to fail. Hope enables the prophet to find true strength in waiting for the Lord. Therefore, hope is essentially an attitude of worship. Hope enables the prophet to confess in light of the past mercies of the Lord. It is what sustains the prophet in the uncertainty of abandonment. Although the prophet has no sure or certain knowledge of the outcome s/he is able to remain in the place of forsakenness because s/he hopes that God will hear and come down from heaven.
Therefore, just as the cry of forsakenness moves the people to mourn what they have lost, also allows them to hope for a new beginning. Certainly such hope is fragile, painful, and desperate, yet it cannot be denied.
The Prophetic Movement into Forsakenness
As Isaiah shows in 63.9 God is a God who suffers the pains of his people. When the people are afflicted, God is also afflicted. When Israel goes into exile, the Shekinah also departs from the Temple and goes into exile. Israel suffers forsakenness, but God suffers this forsakenness as well. Nowhere is this made more clear than in the person of Jesus. It is Jesus who provides the fullest example of one who has been forsaken by God. On the cross he cries, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus, as the Word made flesh, chose to align himself with a people who had rebelled against God and take their forsakenness onto himself in order to bring the people out of forsakenness.
Therefore, the experience of abandonment becomes one of the birthmarks of the church. The Church, as the people of God, becomes the fellowship of the abandoned around the Abandoned One. As such, the people of God should not attempt to avoid abandonment but should rather follow in the footsteps of Jesus and the prophets and move into the forsakenness of others. The people of God should be those who journey alongside of the least of these, the crucified ones of today, in order to direct their cry of abandonment to the covenant God of creation. Instead seeking to create a painless world, or a world free from evil Christians are called to follow the footsteps of Jesus and draw the pain of the world onto themselves.
There is a noted “we-they” dichotomy in Isaiah 63.7-64.12. The “we” seem to be the faithful few, represented by the prophet, over against the faithless “they.” Yet the prophet chooses to accept the consequences of the larger group. The prophet identifies with, and refuses to be divorced from, the bigger picture. Personal faithfulness is insufficient in light of the faithlessness of the group as a whole. The personal experiences of a few do not change the fact that the many have been abandoned. Therefore, Christians need to recognise that they are essentially members of societies (and perhaps of churches!) that currently suffer godforsakenness. They must choose to embrace this godforsakenness and journey in it with others. They cannot embrace comfortable theologies that prevent Scripture from only one perspective. Such views only reflect their own hardness of heart and further the experience of forsakenness. In the end it is only those who suffer with and even for others in abandonment, that are God's witnesses, and his light to the nations.
This is not simply endorsing suffering but it is choosing to “suffer against suffering.” However, as a genuine move into forsakenness this is also a move into uncertainty. Such a move cannot be co-opted by the churches contemporary slant towards overly pragmatic strategies. Instead it must be understood not as “sacrifice on behalf of a cause that one wants to bring to success,” but rather as, “love for nothing, faith for nothing, service for nothing.”
However, this is a hopeful activity — especially in light of the Christ-event. In light of Jesus' crucifixion Christians are able to hope that their forsakenness will be the means by which God's salvation breaks into the world. They bear forsakenness with the hope of bearing it away. With this hope they simply refuse to cease suffering until God returns. By affirming the experience of forsakenness, by entering into the forsakenness of others while remembering who God has been and hoping for who God will be, Christians are able to strengthen those we would otherwise be overcome. It is through suffering with others that the feeble hands are strengthened. It is through crying out with others that knees are steadied. It is through being abandoned with others that the fearful hearts receive the comfort that the need to be able to hold on until God does return bringing salvation.
Bibliography
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Ellul, Jacques. The Subversion of Christianity. Trans. Geoffrey W. Bromily. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1986.
Ellul, Jacques. Hope in Time of Abandonment. Trans. C. Edward Hopkins. New York: Seabury, 1977.
Klein, Ralph W. Israel in Exile: A Theological Interpretation. Overtures of Biblical Theology Series. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1979.
Knight, George A. F. The New Israel: A Commentary on the Book of Isaiah 56-66. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1985.
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Moyter, J. Alec. The Prophecy of Isaiah: An Introduction and Commentary. Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 1993.
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Westerman, Claus. Isaiah 40-66. Philadelphia, Westminster, 1969.
Wright. N.T. Following Jesus: Biblical Reflections on Discipleship. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1994.
Young, Edward J. The Book of Isaiah: Volume III. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1972.

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WTFWJD?