“Woe is me! I am undone!”
Then fiercely kissing coals
As robes and voices around the temple swing;
Oblivious am I to holy wings.
Cleansed and scorched,
I hear the question voiced
And answer “Here I am!”
(Thinking, “What did I sign up for?”)
[Isaiah 6]
I’ve just begun reading Rowan Williams’, the Archbishop of Canterbury, “The Wound of Knowledge”. I’ve attempted this book one other time, when I originally purchased it a few years ago, but got distracted with other work. Now that I have this, along with 5 or 6 other books, to read before beginning classes at Yale Divinity School in September, I’m a bit more excited and focused. (For me, keeping a pencil handy for underlining and note-taking is essential for me to process information – I hadn’t realized this before.) +Rowan’s thesis seems to be that, from the beginning, Christian spirituality has been focused on the redemption of the full human experience. He moves through and touches on the major patristic authors, discussing their writings in relation to this premise.
So far, forty pages in to this 191-page book, I’m learning much about some of the earliest, non-apostolic theologians (Ignatius of Antioch and Iraeneus of Lyons) and a vision of salvation that, to me, makes much more sense than the typical, Protestant proclamation.
Here is +Rowan on Iraneus’ view of salvation (over and against the Gnostic view):
[F]or Iraneus there is no interest or value in “saving information” divorced from the human experience of the Savior. To make salvation a matter of “saving truths” is to yield the pass to the Gnostic, sidestepping entirely the process of healing and integrating the whole of the human person.” (The Wound of Knowledge, p. 40)
And again, further extrapolating the significane of Iraneus’ insistance that, in Jesus, God is fully expressed:
[S]aving knowledge of God is a relationship initiated by God’s free decision to love, to delight in, his creation… It is not a vision of majesty or transcendence for us to admire from a distance; it is the encounter of God with the world… The Gnostic error is to assume that such a detached and impersonal knowledge is healing and reconciling when it is not even possible. We have seen the incomprehensible Father only in the Son, in a compassion which heals, renews and enlarges our hearts, teaching us that our mortal existence can be transfigured to the likeness of Christ who is the likeness of the unseen Father. ‘For when the Word of God was made flesh, he established both these things: he showed us the true image [of God in humanity] by himself becoming what was in fact his own image; and he established and restored the likeness [of humanity to God] by making humanity resemble the invisible Father by means of [his action as] the visible Word.” (The Wound of Knowledge, p. 38)
+Rowan’s commentary, and Iraneus’ own thoughts, completely subvert the idea that belief is an intellectual exercise, or that saving, biblical faith is merely an agreement that “Jesus is Savior”. There is much more involved as we look on Christ not only as God in the flesh, but has a human – showing us the way to be fully human and thus, once again correctly bear the image of God in the world.
I tire of the misdirection and the lack of responsibility that continue to spout from those advocating for the “full inclusion” (a dubious term) of those in same-sex relationships in the Anglican Communion. The moaning and groaning of those who wantonly disregard certain sexual mores that orthodox Christianity has held since Christ walked the Earth has become deafening. Dont’ get me wrong, the debate continues to rage and is an important one – what I find egregious is the complaints from the far left on this issue that consequences which they were warned about are in the germination stage. It seems as though these advocates “want to have their cake and eat it” – i.e. they want to defy the collective wisdom of the Church for the last two thousand years and don’t want to be criticized or “punished” for doing so.
If there were actual discussion surrounding the rightness or wrongness of the sexual morality that the Church at large holds (including real exegesis and not mere eisegesis that bends Scripture to the Western zeitgeist), I’d have a bit more tolerance for adolescent tantrums. A bit. To be clear, I’m more than willing, as the Archbishop of Canterbury has suggested, to allow the entire Communion and the rest of Christendom to come to the conclusion that The Episcopal Church (and the Anglican Church of Canada, it seems) believes the Spirit is leading it to; namely, that homosexual monogamy is no different than heterosexual monogamy. This consensus of the Communion (and of the Church catholic) has yet to happen, and the appropriate response is patience, which has been asked for. What has happened instead of patience (and the idea that seven years is enough “patience” in light of the ramifications of “going it alone” in the midst of a multi-cultural Church is laughable at best), is obstinacy. The last I checked, stubbornness was not a fruit of the Spirit. It’s very American, to be sure, but also quite maddening.
Permit me a tangent that I find quite amusing: For all of The Episcopal Church’s “liberal” leanings of American politics, especially the vice-grip our Presiding Bishop and House of Bishops seem to have on holding to the goodness of the United Nations whilst decrying unilateral military efforts by the United States, it is a bit ironic that, when it comes to the issue of sexual identity, TEC is willing to take the same plunge – going forward on its own amidst the cries from brothers and sisters across the globe for continued patience. The only response to those pleas seem to be backbiting comments and fingerpointing at the missteps of others. Such a lack of humility is disgraceful.
In light of my frustration, below is a comment that I posted on Scott Gunn‘s blog after reading his interpretation of recent issues within the Anglican Communion:
I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising to me to hear the amount of vitriol coming from those with opinions in the Episcopal Church, yet it continues to be distressing.
While I understand, on some levels, the desire to “follow the Spirit” and bless the consecration of yet another bishop in a sexual relationship outside of marriage after the “listening process” has completed, it is simply out of order. We cannot and should not be blessing things contrary to our Prayer Book and to Scripture itself.
Additionally, comments like yours, Scott, regarding the ABC seem full of hate and cries of “unfair! unfair!” rather than reasoned or enlightened responses. Everything that I have read (from Rowan, his supporters and his detractors) indicates that he is doing the best he is able, with the limited (almost non-existent) powers he has as Primate of primates, to keep the Communion together – in the vision of unity that Our Lord and the Apostles desire(d). He is most certainly not attempting a coup d’etat or reaching for popish authority – in fact, the only thing he has done so far is to warn (and warn and warn and warn) that violations of the beliefs held by the rest of the Communion (which cause the sort of strife same-sex blessings and cross-border incursions currently are) have consequences. One of those necessary consequences is the removal of TEC representative from ecumenical discussions. TEC is acting on its own, apart from the collective discernment of the Spirit by the entire Communion (and indeed most of Christendom in general), and that action has consequences.
Yet why does this concern you so? If TEC is truly following the Spirit (which is up to much doubt and discussion), why not bear the cross without the whining? WWJD, no? Won’t TEC be vindicated in the end?
Finally, your vituperative railing against the CoE for hypocrisy, Kearon for imprecise wording, and the Southern Cone/Africa for continuing to violate a moratorium, while justified, only distracts from the point that TEC is still to blame for its recent violation. That is still fact, and pointing the finger at others saying “but they’re doing it, too!” reminds the reader of children attempting to justify (or simply co-incriminate) siblings and friends for their own mistakes. It’s adolescent… much like TEC’s decisions to walk apart. Both have consequences.”
I recently finished reading (in three hour or so sittings at various Barnes & Noble stores in the Virginia area) Philip Pullman’s new book that’s causing quite a stir amongst Christians. Pullman, known for his excellent ways of weaving story with religious criticism, is an atheist (though not of the militant “New Atheist” movement helmed by the likes of Christopher Hitchens, Richard Dawkins, etc.) and is best known for his children’s series, His Dark Materials
If anyone didn’t quite get Pullman’s message from his incredibly well-written and best-selling trilogy, they should have little trouble gleaning the message from his new book, The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ
Pullman writes in a similar style to the Gospel authors (I think of Matthew and Luke in particular as Mark, though my favorite, has an urgency that’s not found in Pullman’s narrator, while John’s writing attempts to prove that Jesus is indeed God in the flesh, using phrasing and theological assertions that differ from the synoptic authors). The point is to mimic the source texts as close as possible, telling the story plainly (as the Gospel authors did).
Pullman’s fictional account centers around the dual nature of the names “Jesus” and “Christ”, noting (we assume, for there’s no introduction or forward to discuss Pullman’s own reflections on the texts he questions – though he does speak to some reasoning behind the writing and subsequent publication of this book in various places) differences in reverence and content when apostles and Gospel authors use each term. He posits that Jesus and Christ were two separate individuals (twins, in fact).
This is where the fun, for me, began and where, I suggest, Christians ought to pay attention (and, perhaps, thank Pullman for bringing to the average thinker, some issues we should tackle).
The major difference between Jesus and Christ is how they view the Kingdom of God. Upon reaching adulthood, both men believe in God and understand that He has a Kingdom that’s coming; their visions of what that looks like and how it might appear, however, are drastically different. This tension is first seen in the Temptation chapter (p. 37-45), and it’s here that we get the first glimpse of just how evil Pullman suggests the Church is. The following interaction comes shortly after Jesus rebukes his brother three times for tempting him:
‘God loves us like a father, and his Kingdom is coming soon.’
Christ came a little closer.
‘But that’s exactly what we can demonstrate with miracles,’ he said. ‘And the Kingdom is a test for us, I’m sure: we must help to bring it about. Of course, God could lift a finger and it would happen at once. But think how much better it would be if the way were prepared by men like the Baptist, men like you – think of the advantages if there were a body of believers, a structure, an organisation already in place… Won’t you join me in this? Won’t you be a part of this most wonderful work and help bring the Kingdom of God to earth?’ …
‘You phantom… What you describe sounds like the work of Satan. God will bring about his Kingdom in his own way, and when he chooses. Do you think your mighty organisation would even recognise the Kingdom if it arrived?…’ (p. 42-44)
Christ (and the institution of the Church), for Pullman, is akin to Satan – it’s a distortion of the message of Jesus that consisted of love, grace, forgiveness and care for the weak. It is through the introduction of rules, doctrine, and hierarchy (in fact, through the introduction of humans into the Kingdom itself) that everything goes awry and falls away from the lofty philosophy and theology of Jesus that asks us to be better, perfect humans.
Pullman is also quite careful to give broken and human qualities to both Jesus and Christ, making the point that no one born of a human mother is without sin, not even the great philosophers and theologians who others, in his view, have made out to be divine: Jesus, as a young boy, is a rambunctious liar who does indeed sin, like any male child would; Christ, though perfect as a child, winds up as the Judas character, betraying his brother in order to create the Church. Additionally, he puts quotations around the “miracles” that Jesus performs, suggesting that simple teachings (e.g. sharing) are elevated to miracle (e.g. the feeding of the five thousand) by Christ’s revisionism as he writes down his brother’s sermons and edits them, under the gentle guidance of an unnamed Stranger (whom we are to understand is either Satan or human nature), into a history of healings, miracles and the Resurrection in order to establish the Church.
As I previously mentioned, it’s precisely in this tension between the words, actions and directives of Jesus and the rules, regulations and punishments meted out by the Church that Pullman’s story has a fierce importance for the postmodern Church. We, as Christians, must be willing to admit to this tension and do the necessary theological and philosophical work to answer these accusations. What is the relationship between the texts of Scripture and the reality of the world we know? Are we to believe the miracles? Why indeed does the Church seem to look like what Jesus decried in his criticism of the Pharisees and Sadducees? How far from Jesus is the Church? Is there a way to reconcile Jesus with the Church any longer? What, indeed, IS the Church?
Pullman, I suggest, does us a favor that few other Christians may perceive, and no other author (through the medium of speculative fiction) does as eloquently and poignantly: he asks us to consider our beliefs – to test them in the fires of reason and science – to see if they hold up.
My wife and I are finishing up a trip to Connecticut, visiting my new school and my wife’s sister and fiancee.
On Thursday, we scoped out New Haven, the Divinity School at Yale that I’ll be spending most of the next three years at, a local pizza shop, and the city itself. While the on-campus apartment left a bit to be desired (think college dorm room and not “apartment”; the “kitchen” is a bit small and it’s very apparent that the dwellings were built during the 1950s – our guide didn’t really need to mention it), the Yale University campus itself and the surrounding areas hold a lot of promise. I’m sure I’ll post about YDS sooner rather than later, and often.
I’m writing this post for two reasons. One, to test out MarsEdit 3.0 on my MacBook Pro. So far so good (the interface is excellent, and I’m hoping that the posting process is a bit better than “ecto”, which I had to delete). Two, I’m envious of the coffee shop that the four of us are sitting at right now. It’s in Darien, directly next to Stamford, CT and is relatively new (20 Grove St., Darien, CT 06820). Espresso NEAT specializes in personalized coffee that’s fresh, fair trade, and absolutely delicious. I’m sipping the Costa Rica blend ($3) for this morning, and loving it – I’ve only had fresh coffee (personally brewed and ground for me) at one other place, but it’s not for sale just yet. Let’s just say you’d be jealous of my bible study/small group. Apparently there are coffee tasting/brewing classes (that Cindy and I will need to attend some weekend), and the owners are incredibly friendly and knowledgeable.
Unfortunately, we’re leaving to fly back to Dulles and spend some time with my family, otherwise I’d visit several times, tasting the donuts, croissants, espresso, and sundry other coffee-paired delicacies. Suffice it to say, I wish Espresso NEAT was in New Haven. I’d be there daily.
If you’re in the area, please visit.
Alright, time to smoke a celebratory cigar before heading back home.
How extraordinarily stupid it is to defend Christianity, how little knowledge of humanity it betrays, how it connives if only unconsciously with offence by making Christianity out to be some miserable object that in the end must be rescued by a defence. It is therefore certain and true that the person who first thought of defending Christianity is de facto a Judas No. 2; he too betrays with a kiss, except his treason is that of stupidity. To defend something is always to discredit it.”
- Søren Kierkegaard, The Sickness Unto Death (Penguin Classics, 1849), 118
It might come to no surprise to anyone who’s read my other post (and the subsequent comments) on apologetics in relation to orthopraxy that I am fascinated by this quote. Kierkegaard is something of a hero of mine, and though I’ve not read nearly enough of his work (only “Training in Christianity” at the time of this post), his logic intrigues me and his passion for reforming the Church, which ended up killing him, I liken to that of St. Paul and Martin Luther.
Needless to say, but I’ll be picking up some other Kierkegaard works very soon (if one or two are not on the syllabi for whatever Fall classes I register for).
(HT A.J. Smith)
On May 5th it’s Mukhtar’s, a bus-driver in Copenhagen, Birthday. In 2010 he had no idea that a large group of people had planned to celebrate him…”
I had tears in my eyes, for this is what the Kingdom of God is like.
This is a great video that all politicians, entrepreneurs, priests and educators need to watch:
People don’t buy what you do, they buy why you do it.” – Simon Sinek
