Elements of Story: Redemption (p. 1)

I thought perhaps to continue my earlier series on the biblical narrative as a meditation during Advent. I am not, by tradition, one who practices much in the way of observance of the Christian year, but I'd like to at least begin to think along those lines. This is my hesitant first step, more a meditative act than anything else, but perhaps it will be of worth to someone else.

I posted here previously on my thoughts about the conflict in the story. This, I think, is critical to understanding redemption. Redemption, to me, is God's answer to the conflict. What this means is that we must understand the shape of that redemption through the shape of the conflict. For me, this means that redemption ultimately is relational. It means that, certainly, God's actions in redemption are about restoration of humanity's relationship with Himself. It also means, though, that redemption is about humanity's relationships with one another, and with the rest of creation as well.

God's redemptive acts begin to unfold with the story of Abraham. I think what strikes me as I read the narrative is that Abraham really doesn't bring much to the table. I mean, let's face it - eighty year old nomads aren't the best source of land or descendants, but that's exactly what God promises. On top of that, everything Abraham tries to do to help the process along, so to speak, turns into something of a disaster.

But let's think for a moment about what shape this redemptive act has started to take on. The twofold curse that fell on the man and woman dealt with land and children. God's redemptive act towards Abraham promises two things - land and children. At this point, our eyebrows should raise just a bit, and we should begin asking ourselves, "What exactly is God up to here, anyway?"

Abraham is only the beginning of the story. As the story goes (and as the author of Hebrews reminds us), Abraham never saw the fulfillment of the promise. The tale has just begun; not even Abraham could, at this point, know what's coming down the road.

Symbolic Action and Cheap DVDs

Thursday was Thanksgiving for us in the States, ostensibly a time when we sit down to remember the year with gratitude and thankfulness with food and family. At our home, this year things were fairly modest. We celebrated with my wife's sister, which made five folks including the kids (one of whom won't eat anything, even if coated in sugar). We had a fairly traditional but restrained menu, choosing to prepare a turkey breast instead of a whole bird and foregoing some of the standard fare such as mashed potatoes for smaller courses that we could finish in one or two sittings. It was fun but exhausting - I love to cook, but I don't often take on a meal with more than two or three dishes. But it was well worth it, and the leftovers are nearly gone so I feel fairly responsible as opposed to wasteful.

Friday, of course, was the equally traditional orgy of sales, where people risk being trampled at Wal-Mart in order to get an especially good price on deep fryers and last year's DVD selection. Frankly, I've never really understood the whole affair. I had a conversation with a coworker on Tuesday that went something like this:

Him: "You going out on Black Friday?"
Me: "No, I think it's insane. I'll probably sleep until noon and then spend time with the kids."
Him: "One place has a pack of fifty blank DVD's for three bucks!"
Me: "But I don't burn DVD's..."
Him: "Yeah, but THREE BUCKS!"

I received an email from Sojourners that was discussing Buy Nothing Day, which basically amounted to a boycot of the festivities. It's not a bad idea, frankly - I have no love for the rampant consumerism to which we find ourselves clinging in First World cultures. Taking a day off on the day most oriented around it is probably a good way to go. On the other hand, I get a little nervous around symbolic action. I think often symbolic actions are ways that we convince ourselves that we've done something grand, when actually we've done nothing at all. Let's be honest - Buy Nothing Day is fairly meaningless if we just pick right back up where we left off on Saturday morning.

I had the same sort of ambivalence towards the whole Live 8 thing this past summer. Somehow, I think that we managed to convince ourselves that showing up for a few concerts makes us socially conscious. But where is the value in the symbols when the bands go home and the lights come down? Poverty is still real, and now the trash needs to be picked up.

Thanksgiving is a sort of symbol as well. It's a symbolic act whereby we convince ourselves that we're grateful for what we have. Unfortunately, the reality of Black Friday reveals our thanks and contentment for what they are - mere symbols that hide the deep gluttony that runs to the core of our culture. It's a deeper malady than can be cured with another symbolic action. Instead, we need a sustained reflection on our use of things and a sustained practice in using them wisely and well.

Something in the Works

via media is a new team blog in which I'll be participating. Bob Hyatt describes it this way:

I want to create a team blog where we can discuss theology and church praxis from an emerging church perspective that takes seriously the need to reform and reformulate, but at the same time is cogniscent of the inherent dangers of such an undertaking, and avoids discarding orthodox babies with American, evangelical bathwater.

I'll be joining Bob, along with John and Dave. Should be fun!

Review: Colossians Remixed

Empires are totalizing by definition...Empires are built on systemic centralizations of power and secured by structures of socioeconomic and military control. They are religiously legitimated by powerful myths that are rooted in foundational assumptions, and they are sustained by a proliferation of imperial images that captivate the imagination of the population. (Walsh & Keesmaat, p. 31)

Colossians Remixed is not the sort of book that one can read comfortably, particularly from the vantage point of First World twenty-first century Christianity. In truth, I'm not entirely sure how to describe the book - it's part commentary, part targum, part prophetic discourse, part historical dramatization, part practical theology, and all challenging. Walsh and Keesmaat attempt to connect the historical context of Colossians with the present contexts of globalization, pluralism, consumerism, and skepticism and do so with impressive results.

For anyone familiar with the works of folks such as Wright or Horsley, some of this ground feels well-trod; Empire is the theme of the book, providing the interpretive theme on which the rest of the arguments hang as well as the bridge that spans the gulf between the first and twenty-first century contexts. For Paul, the identity of the empire is obvious - Rome held sway over every area in which he ministered. Today, Walsh and Keesmaat argue that the western forces of globalization backed by militarization and consumption fill the same role.

A concrete example would probably be helpful. For Rome, images served as a tool to shape the imaginations of the population. Images of Caesar were found in the market, the city square, the public baths, and the theater, at the gymnasium, and in the temples. Images of the empire were also found on every imaginable object for private use. The symbolism of the empire became part of daily furnishings, permeating the visual landscape and therefore the imaginations of the subjects of the empire. (p. 63) I think the parallels are striking - take a look around you, at this very moment, and count the number of corporate logos in your field of vision. It's terrifying, really - we don't even notice them anymore because they've become a part of the warp and woof of daily existence. But into this context, these twin contexts, Paul speaks an amazing Word: He is the image of the invisible God...

Colossians Remixed serves as the forum for Walsh and Keesmaat to play with this idea, this parallel theme into which God has spoken decisively. On the whole, they succeed admirably. At times, their interpretation of Colossians feels a bit stretched; I wondered at points if they would have been better served by an examination of the New Testament as a whole. At other points, their suggestions for current day interpretation felt either equally stretched or overly simplistic. Still, these are small quibbles - by and large, the book is both impressive and challenging. It will, at the least, force the reader to reconsider his or her location in a context of out-of-control consumption and militarization.

On Retreat

I hoped to get another post up today, but time flew. I'm on my way to a retreat with my seminary cohort and won't be back until Sunday afternoon. I'll respond to any additional comments when I return.

I'm thinking to put the Story posts on hold for a week or so - I've been trying to decide how I'd like to observe Advent this year, and I think blogging through the redemptive story might be an appropriate way to prepare for Christmas. Thoughts?

UPDATE: I intended to post this on Friday, but I left it sitting in draft mode instead of publishing it. At any rate, I thought I'd post it anyway since I've left some comments and posts without a response and I'm wondering about the Advent thing. I come from a background in which "tradition" meant basically that we read a passage from Matthew before we opened our presents, so I have no real experience of how to navigate this.

Crazy Relatives

I've been following the insanity this evening over the emergentno.com aggregator that Justin Baeder pulled together. I'm at this point exhausted, primarily because reading too much fundagelical stuff is bad for my blood pressure.

I had this bizarre experience a number of years ago at my uncle's house. We were visiting for Thanksgiving, and his wife's brother was also at the table with the rest of the family. The problem was that this guy was a total ass. Not only was he ignorant (and displayed it proudly), but he was also loudly and vocally prejudiced. I was embarrassed to be in the same room; I can't imagine how my uncle must have felt.

I guess we all probably have relatives that embarrass us. I bet that, if this guy got to know me, he'd think I was an arrogant, know-it-all city boy. And he'd probably have a point, as far as that goes.

I think what I find so thoroughly frustrating about this whole emergent-no, emergent-yes thing is the division that it causes. I say this as someone who can't read some of these sites without mentally dropping the f-bomb (for which I recognize that I am in need of repentance). In other words, it's easy to cry foul about division in the body while your hands are full of rocks and your aim is good. But on some level, these people are family - as troubling and as embarrassing as that might be. On the other hand, they are (obviously) just as embarrassed about me.

Here's the challenge - I think of my natural response to this sort of thing, and I think of Christ's commands to do good to those who hate you, and I realize that I'm not very much like Him. I get angry and sin not. And the thing that is most frustrating is that unity gets trampled underfoot, and we continue to perpetuate the brokenness of the curse instead of living in the new life of Christ. I'm not saying that we shouldn't disagree - there are some foundational differences between folks that would be helpful for all of us to sort out. Maybe in the end we won't agree anyway - but can we at least do so in a manner that doesn't call into question someone else's place at the table?

I was going to do my review of Colossians Remixed tonight, but now I'm just tired.

WWJT?

In other words, Who Would Jesus Torture?

I largely avoid political discussions here. But this is a deeply disturbing issue, no matter one's political affiliations - or at least it should be for those of us who claim to follow the Prince of Peace.

If you haven't heard, Senator McCain has sponsored a bill (more correctly, an amendment to a Defense Appropriations bill) that would establish uniform treatment standards for enemy combatants held by US troops. The bill passed the Senate with an overwhelming majority. The Bush administration has threatened to veto the bill if passed by the House. Personally, I'm horrified that this is even a matter of debate.

Sojourners has made it easy to respond. Click here to contact your representative to voice your support for the McCain amendment.

Dreaming Out Loud

I've now reached the point in my degree program where a mere five courses stand between me and graduation. I have mixed feelings about this; on one hand, it's becoming more and more clear to me that I'm running about as close to empty as one can get. I'm looking forward to being able to read for pleasure again instead of trying to sneak in some extra reading on the weekends, not to mention the fact that I'll have a lot more time to give to my family and faith community. On the other hand, I love being a student. I've developed some wonderful friendships with folks in my cohort, and I look forward to spending a couple of hours a week with them. Intellectually speaking, I like being forced to read things I wouldn't otherwise choose - it keeps my studies from becoming some grand echo chamber or something. But the looming question for me is one that gets asked more and more often the closer I get to graduation: so what's next?

I wish I had an answer to that question. My long term goals are to pursue a PhD program in theology and teach on the graduate level. But I also want to keep my feet grounded in the real world, so there's an element of ministry / mission that I think I need to pursue, and I don't know what that looks like yet. In any case, I need a bit of time to prepare for a doctoral program, so I have this mid-range scenario that hasn't begun to take shape yet. At this point, I'm getting somewhat anxious to know what's next, but all I get is this vague sense that something is coming and I'll know when it gets here.

Last night I sat on my deck under the stars and thought about what I'd love to do. It was surprisingly mild for November, so I thought a pipe before bed would be in order. I sat out under the November stars, a bowlful of fine Virginia flake in my pipe, and tried to put all of these thoughts in the hands of God. Here's what I'm wondering as a result of my midnight smoke: what's the space called between the academy and the congregation? I think that's where I belong. I think there's a need for some good applied theology, to borrow a phrase. Something on the order of ethics and missiology and biblical studies and apologetics all rolled into one. Who is it that takes theology and finds the meaning in it, the stuff that matters when I hit the pavement on Monday morning? I read a lot of stuff on either side of that divide, but not much that bridges it.

One of the books that arrived in my goodie box this past week is Models of Contextual Theology by Stephen Bevans. This is one of those that turned up on a syllabus for next semester but that had also been floating around on my wish list for a while, so besides the fact that I'm really jazzed about that class, I get to double up on my pleasure and academic reading. (Am I a geek or what? ;) At any rate, I was flipping through the book and found this definition of praxis - "acting reflectively and reflecting on one's actions". In other words, there should be an interconnectedness to our theology and our practice that results in each influencing, directing, challenging, and critiquing the other. When I started this blog almost two years ago, that's what I had in mind for this space - somewhere I could reflect on the practice of my faith. It's been that and more, I suppose. What I'm wondering now is whether there's something bigger I can do with that.

Bipolar Week

This has been an absolutely brutal week. The whole ordeal started last Saturday with our dog. We have a two and a half year old Cairn Terrier named Noodle (or, alternately, the Cairn Terror). Noodle has had off-and-on health issues since we bought him - word to the wise, avoid mall pet store dogs, no matter how cute. This weekend sort of culminated in an emergency vet visit. We found out that we've been getting some bad advice from folks at our normal vet's office (we later found out that the techs weren't consulting the vets before dispensing advice over the phone). Instead of the digestive issues we thought he had, we found out he has kidney problems and what look to be possibly pancreatic issues as well. We're already about four hundred dollars into evaluations, and we don't have any firm diagnoses yet. The bottom line is that, if in fact it's pancreatic, he's not digesting any of his food, which means from what I can tell a lifetime of special diet to avoid starvation, even though he's eating like a horse.

There are other things floating around complicating the mix as well, but I'm trying to focus on the positives. And this week has brought a number of them:

• Doug Pagitt comes through again with another book for review. I received a copy of Body Prayer this week. I'm hoping to get through it in the next few days and offer my review - I'm looking forward to this one immensely.
• Speaking of books, I received my book list for the spring semester. Giving me access to Amazon is sort of like setting up a Guinness table in the lobby of the Betty Ford Center. On the upside, my reading list has expanded considerably - I snagged a few items that have been on my wishlist for some time now. I absolutely need to put up some reviews of what I've been reading, because I've picked up some phenomenal stuff lately that folks should know about.
• We spent a fun evening at a birthday party for a friend of my boys. Big plus for the adults was authentic Indian cuisine, which isn't that easy to find in my neck of the woods. ;)

Back to posting this week - I'm between courses at the moment, so I've got a bit more space. If it occurs to you to remember a sick puppy in prayer, we'd appreciate it.

(And with that, any manly facade that I've managed to create here has just been destroyed. ;)

More Thoughts on Story

Scott asked a few questions on my last post that I thought perhaps would be best addressed through a post of its own. Scott asked, "Does conflict create story? I think you're probably right, but If so, what happens in paradise/paradise regained - is there an absence of story in the sweet bye and bye? Or in our discussion of life as simply story do we lose some of the complex richness of life?"

As for the thoughts on paradise, I'm going to default on that one - I have some specific thoughts there that I want to make in a later post. But I thought the second question should probably be picked up here; it's a fair one that undergirds some of what I'm trying to think through in this series of posts. First, a point of clarification is perhaps in order - I'm not so much reflecting on life as story so much as on scripture as story, so I think in some ways the metaphor only stretches so far. On the other hand, I'm also reflecting on thinking through our own lives in the context of the grand Story, so the question is certainly a fair one. What's the overlap, and what does it mean then to think of our lives in this way?

This is something of a complex question, to be honest, because I think this is one of those metaphors that's almost blurring the lines between image and reality. There is a sense in which we live our lives in the context of stories. There is a plot that we follow, in some sense, a part that we play and parts that we assign to others to play. For example, if I interpret the plot of my story to be struggle and my part in that plot as that of the underdog, I might assign others the roles of antagonists who are trying to dominate me. My life then plays out in the story that I've constructed, and I (perhaps) leave a trail of broken relationships in my wake as I overcome the obstacles that others present. I think that's a fair statement to make without devolving into psychobabble (but, as I mentioned, it's still only a metaphor - I don't think anyone cognitively goes down this path, just that it's one way of describing how we approach life).

So the question then becomes, on some level, what is the plot, anyway? And that's where I think our story and the grand Story start to overlap. The plot, I'd argue, is that we are created beings, created by a good God and declared good at the moment of creation. We were granted a place and purpose in the order of things, in unity with God and each other. But that unity, that place and purpose, have become twisted and broken, a condition that we've taken to calling sin. The plot is defined around this condition, this conflict - the question that the rest of the Story attempts to answer is the one created by the conflict. What does a good God do about sin in His good creation? The answer, I think, is about redemption. Which leads me to the next question:

"Also, as a digression strictly into story perhaps, what comes of story without the risk of the heroes' failure? Or is that strictly a matter of perspective (present struggles v. hope of glory), or does our hope of glory overrule the possibility of 'Christian tragedy'?"

The answer to this, I'd argue, depends on how one defines "redemption". And that's where we'll turn next.