Reflections on the Emergent Philosophical Conversation (p.1)

I had initially thought to interact with the major themes of the Emergent gathering while the event was underway, but I found two things very quickly: first, there were a lot of ideas running around, and I quickly found my head spinning; second, the time just flew by, primarily because of the great connections with various folks that I was able to renew or begin. By the end of the event, I was too far behind to begin and needed a bit of time to process. Now, about a week and a half later, I'm left with a few substantive thoughts that have sort of congealed around a couple of themes.

To begin with, the guests for the gathering were Jack Caputo and Richard Kearney, both of whom Tony Jones called "rock stars of philosophy". I was acquainted with Caputo's work before the event, although I hadn't read any of it personally; Kearney was an unknown to me. Both are a part of the philosophical tradition known as continental philosophy and have worked closely with Derrida, so it should be no surprise that deconstruction was the theme of the conversation. I'll admit that at times I felt out of my league - philosophy is extremely self-referential, meaning that if you don't know the thinkers with whom a person is interacting, you're likely going to feel as though you're overhearing half of a conversation. Still, they did a great job of remembering their audience, and I left with a few constructive ideas as well as some critiques.

The first discussion centered on what Caputo called the "god of metaphysics". (Metaphysics refers to the discussion of the nature of reality and being.) This was, for me, probably the most productive discussion. It began as a sort of whirlwind tour of western philosophy from the time of Plato, with some stops along the way to identify major landmarks. The significant contribution of this section was the discussion of the development of theological discourse in modernity. In brief, Caputo suggested that what happened after Descartes was the introduction of the metaphysical as a criteria for rational thought. In other words, as people in modernity began to define reality in a particular way, theology became subject to that definition of reality, a definition that was framed in terms of rationality. Reason became the standard by which all thought was judged - as Caputo said, God was made to pass before the court of reason to be examined for his suitability for entrance into civilized thought. For example, when Aquinas was describing God, he referred to him as (among other descriptions) the "first cause," the cause of everything else who is himself without a cause. In modernity, God was described as the cause of himself. Note the distinction - instead of God being uncaused, he now has a cause, even if that cause is himself. Why the change? Because everything has to have a cause - even God. God has to play by the rules.

This is the turn in theology that results in what Caputo called "the god of metaphysics". God is no longer seen as the ultimate reality; now he is merely reality's chief inhabitant who must conform to the nature of reality just like everything else. It's a fascinating thought, once you start to grasp it - it shows up in all sorts of places. A lot (but not all) of discussion of inerrancy, I think, has its roots in this sort of approach. The Scriptures just can't have errors or contradictions or even differing perspectives in them, or they wouldn't be scripture. The problem is that this definition is first assumed and then applied to the Christian texts, resulting in an odd sort of approach that has to go outside of scripture for its doctrine of scripture, while maintaining that the only source of doctrine is scripture. (I'm not trying to get into an argument about the nature of scripture - just using an illustration.)

Deconstruction is a means of getting beyond this enslavement to the god of metaphysics. Deconstruction is, as Caputo and Kearney described it, allowing truth to "break through" the layers of interpretation that have kept it bound. It isn't really about "tearing down", as many seem to like to use the term - they were emphatic about the phrase "breaking through" as a good way of getting at what deconstruction is attempting. Deconstruction is about unmasking those things which keep us from the truth, and so on some level it is more interested in truth than other systems which claim objective, absolute knowledge.

Besides being what I now consider the most helpful time of the event, what became apparent to me rather quickly was that many of the folks who have taken to attacking "postmodernism" in the name of God haven't the faintest clue what they are talking about. These were gentlemen who are schooled in postmodern thought, who are significant contributors to postmodern philosophy, and who have significant connections to many of the philosophers who are seen as sort of the "founding fathers" of postmodernity, so to speak, most significantly Derrida. And the primary theme of the first evening's discussion was, irony of ironies, how to defend the truth through deconstruction. It was a nuanced and intelligent discussion that I'll be considering for some time. At one point, they made the distinction between what they called Dionysian postmodernism, which is the nihilistic, relativistic stream of thought that is set up as the fundagelical bogeyman, and "prophetic" postmodernism - which is where they'd locate deconstruction. Their take was that Derrida himself was appalled at what some have tried to do in his name, although you'd never hear such from the critics. In truth, though, that's hardly surprising - such juvenile criticism, usually framed in militaristic metaphors, is itself in need of deconstruction, in need of motives being revealed and perspectives challenged.

Technorati Tags: Caputo, deconstruction, emergent, emerging church, Kearney

The Children of Húrin

I had planned to post some thoughts on the Emergent event from last week (and I still intend to do so) - but I just finished the newest addition to the Tolkien canon today and felt compelled to offer some reflections on it. A bit of context - I consider myself to be a moderately hardcore Tolkien fan. I read the Hobbit, the LotR trilogy, and the Silmarillion each at least once a year, as a rule. I was one of the disgruntled fans who thought Peter Jackson massacred The Two Towers, and while he bought himself a bit of grace with the generally masterful telling that was Return of the King, I'll always hold a grudge against him for turning Aragorn into a pansy. I've read Unfinished Tales, which is worth owning for the Istari alone. I even used to own Roverandom until someone borrowed it but didn't return it - bet you didn't know Tolkien wrote a tale about a toy dog, did you? So when I discovered that Christopher Tolkien would be publishing a new work edited from his father's writings, I was suitably excited, if a bit nervous - the tale of Túrin is already a significant part of the Silmarillion, and I'll admit that it isn't my favorite. How would a book-length treatment hold up in comparison to the more established works?

A word about the plot is in order, for those who have never read the Silmarillion. If you're familiar with LotR (in either movie or book form), you know who Sauron is - he is the chief enemy of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth in the trilogy. But he is merely the servant of a greater enemy in the Elder Days, the former Valar known as Morgoth. Morgoth was one of the celestial beings who participated in the creation of the world, but he later rebelled in order to gain the mastery over all others. The Silmarillion is largely the tale of the Elves who resisted Morgoth and waged war against him to regain the Silmarils, precious jewels that he stole from Fëanor, one of their chief princes. Húrin was one of the men who joined the Elves in their war; he was captured by Morgoth and cursed for his defiance, forced to watch with Morgoth's sight as his children were drawn into Morgoth's curse and destroyed. The Children of Húrin is primarily about Túrin, Húrin's son and one of the mightiest men to ever live.

I shouldn't have worried - The Children of Húrin is an overwhelming success. I was amazed at the depth of story that the book brings, and my opinion of Túrin has forever been altered. I never found him to be a sympathetic character in the Silmarillion - it seemed that he deserved his fate in the end. This book, however, paints him in a much more sympathetic light, bringing more of his character and motivations to the fore. In truth, the Silmarillion doesn't really concern itself too much with such things, being more of an epic history than anything else. This book is pure narrative, and reads a lot more like LotR than the Silmarillion (although the similarities to the latter are evident as well). We read about Túrin's childhood, about his fostering in the kingdom of Doriath by Thingol, and about his journeys in the wild as the leader of a band of outlaws who he ultimately leads against the forces of Morgoth. The story is rich and full, and like all of Tolkien's work, dark and tragic. The editing is top-notch, and the narrative is almost entirely seamless (although I think it stumbles at the very end, which is most unfortunate - but forgivable).

Often people will try to connect Tolkien's faith to his writings, and they almost invariably end up doing so in what seems to me to be odd ways. Gandalf, for example, is not a Christ figure, no matter how many comparisons his return from death will draw. Sauron does much the same thing, after all. But one possible place to look for such a connection seems often to be missed - for Tolkien, the chief sin is pride, and it always leads to a fall. Morgoth, Sauron, Fëanor, Turgon, Thingol, the Númenóreans, Saruman, Denethor - I could go on and on. All significant characters brought down by their pride, some of good heart, others of evil, but all marred by hubris. Túrin's fate is, in the end, sealed by his pride, by his inability to listen to the council of others and to admit his own failings. In one of the chief ironies and tragedies of the book, he takes the name Turambar, which means Master of Doom - he believes he can conquer his fate, but finds himself only trapped further by his defiance. In the end, he is not (as the book says) master of his doom - he is mastered by it.

This is not a happy tale. It is dark and gritty. There is a sense in which all of Tolkien's work carries an undercurrent of lament - his is not the simplistic world where all is right in the end, nor is it a might-makes-right kind of world where only the strong survive. It is something else entirely, something of a good creation marred by unspeakable evil. He ends the Valaquenta (the chief tale of the Silmarillion) with these words:

Here ends The Valaquenta. If it has passed from the high and beautiful to darkness and ruin, that was of old the fate of Arda Marred; and if any change shall come and the Marring be amended, Manwë and Varda may know; but they have not revealed it, and it is not declared in the dooms of Mandos.

This theme runs deep through the works of Tolkien - the careful reader will pick it up even in something as light-hearted as the Hobbit, and it is present strongly in the conclusion of LotR, where Sauron is vanquished but in doing so the Elves have wrought their own demise. And it is present in a little way in the tale of Frodo, who will never be healed of the hurts that he has suffered as the bearer of the One Ring. The Children of Húrin carries this theme strongly - it is front and center, and as a result is a work of profound sorrow and lament. But there is something wholesome about the laments of Tolkien as well, something that mourns for what is lost. It is I believe this grief that makes his work so enduring.

Technorati Tags: books, Children of Hurin, Tolkien

Connections Old and New

I somehow thought that I'd have a chance to do some blogging during the Emergent conversation this week - what a mistaken plan! It's been a busy week. My family is visiting my in-laws this week, so I'm on my own until Saturday. And this was a great week for it, as I'm basically exhausted after a very full five days. I began the weekend by heading to a friend's place on Saturday to get in some gaming. I'm a gamer at heart, but I haven't had much opportunity to play anything of late as all of my gaming buddies are in other parts of the globe at the moment. To have a full weekend with nothing but gaming on the agenda was fantastic. My new favorite is War of the Ring - it's an intense wargame based on the Lord of the Rings trilogy. And intense is not an understatement - I think the shortest game we played took three hours. The strategy in this game is dizzying - there are so many options and choices that it wasn't uncommon to take fifteen minutes to play out one turn. Absolutely fantastic - if you like wargames, this one is definitely worth the cash. The expansion is high on my list now. I also had a chance to try Settlers of Catan for the first time. It was quite a bit different from what I'm used to playing - I couldn't figure out what to do at first, since there weren't any armies to crush. But it's an amazingly simple game to learn that is just a ton of fun - I can see why it's a game that nongamers typically enjoy as well. We were playing with Cities and Knights, which seems to be a good investment for the serious gamer as it gives the game more depth and complexity. Still, the basic is a lot of fun on its own, and may be the better choice for nongamers.

In all, I think we got in about 15 hours of gaming between Saturday and Sunday. I arrived home Sunday evening and decided to try to get in touch with Jared, who I knew was coming in for the Emergent event. A few hours later, and Jared and his friend Tony were camped out at my place, sharing a meal and, yes, some more Settlers. It was great to meet them in person - Jared is a longtime friend in the blogosphere, so I was privileged to be able to offer some small amount of hospitality to them, even if I got my tail kicked at Settlers. Later that evening, my friend Kevin arrived; Kevin was a part of my cohort at Biblical but has since moved to North Dakota, so we haven't seen each other since we graduated. It was fantastic to be able to spend a few days getting caught up and attending the Philosophical gathering together.

The Conversation itself was pretty good - I feel like I was stretched mentally, even if I wouldn't necessarily embrace everything that was discussed. I'll offer a few thoughts specifically on the event itself in the next day or so. Overall, it was a fantastic week on the basis of the relationships and connections alone - even if the event itself had been a bust, it would have been time well spent.

An Economic Model of Atonement: Debt (p.1)

I want to offer just a few thoughts for the moment on how the metaphor of debt functions in what I'm calling an economic model of atonement. In my earlier post, I referred to debt as the controlling metaphor; by that I mean simply that debt is the way in which a person locates himself or herself in the narrative that the model presents. Debt, of course, is how the model speaks of sin. In a consumerist society such as the one in which I find myself, I think that debt offers a way to talk of sin in a way that resonates with the experience of the culture, while at the same time remaining deeply and sincerely biblical. But what I find compelling is that debt offers more than simply a resonance - it provides a means of speaking of sin in a way that avoids the spiritual / social dichotomy that one often finds in such discussions.

One way to get at the workings of this metaphor is to consider the way in which we in twenty first century western democracies think about justice, particularly as it relates to crimes and punishments. A punishment is just if it fits the crime; put another way, an offender accumulates a "debt" to society that is repaid through suffering some form of punishment. In some cases, this represents restitution or recompense for a wrong done; more often, it is retributive in the sense of causing hurt in like manner to the original act. We think of this in terms of making a person "pay" for what he or she has done. You can see, then, that the metaphor is already in play in the way that we speak of wrongs and justice.

We focus on this debt to a fault. We want to be just people - we want to be sure that wrongs are repaid but repaid fairly. And my suspicion is that what results from such a focus on debt is a society that is vengeful. We believe that we are owed recompense for wrongs that we have suffered, and we seek retribution as a result. Invariably, we hold such retribution as just; often, the other party may not agree that this is so, and thus holds himself or herself to be wronged in return with a right to retribution. Witness the lawsuit/countersuit dynamic that is in play in our society for the smallest of infractions - it is a cycle that is based on retribution, and that in a sense of vengeance. The end result is a system that thrives on retribution. It is, in this sense, an economy of vengeance, based on the perception of debt owed and taken.

This is what I mean when I speak of sin in an economic sense. It is, I hope, a way that offers some new resources for thinking about the subject, while at the same time remaining intuitive and familiar. Next, I want to think through how God factors into the description I've just presented, but first - thoughts so far? Does this resonate, or perhaps present some new avenues for thought?

Technorati Tags: atonement, economic model, theology

Philly Emergent Stuff

Just thought I'd pass on a reminder for anyone in the Philly area that the cohort meeting this month is being moved up a week - the gathering is this Thursday at the Well in Feasterville. Keith Matthews and Todd Littleton will be joining us for a conversation on spiritual formation - should be a good discussion. Details are at the cohort site.

On another Emergent note, is anyone else planning to attend the Conversation with Jack Caputo next week? It should be interesting - I didn't really connect with the reading overall but there were some interesting tidbits scattered about. I'm curious to see who will be in attendance.

Technorati Tags: emergent, emerging church

He is Risen

I have set the LORD always before me.
Because he is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.
Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices;
my body also will rest secure,
because you will not abandon me to the grave,
nor will you let your Holy One see decay.
You have made known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand.

Holy Saturday

My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When can I go and meet with God?
My tears have been my food day and night,
while men say to me all day long,
"Where is your God?"
These things I remember as I pour out my soul:
how I used to go with the multitude,
leading the procession
to the house of God,
with shouts of joy and thanksgiving
among the festive throng.
Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.