Remembering Rightly

I have sort of an ambivalent relationship with Memorial Day. Memorial Day here in the States is one of the holidays that we observe every year that is focused primarily on the military. It is intended to honor those of our military personnel who have died in combat (as opposed to Veterans Day, which honors those veterans who are currently living). Its observance among the general populace seems to be more an occasion to kick off the summer season of grilling, beach-going, and other sun-centric activities than it is an opportunity for remembrance and reflection. This I suppose is to be expected in a culture whose attention span makes remembering to walk the dog challenging - reflection is what one sees in the mirror rather than something one does actively and regularly. And I fully admit to doing little reflecting of the sort myself, although some of that is theological in nature as opposed to just plain old laziness. More on that in a moment.

I do think there is a value in remembering, in particular remembering times of trial and suffering and danger, if only to make us perhaps a bit wiser. But that, to me, is the catch - remembering in and of itself is neither good nor bad. What is in question is the purpose to which we put our memories; to what end do we remember? This may be on my mind of late because I've recently finished Volf's excellent The End of Memory. Volf offers some profound thoughts on the role and purpose of memory for the Christian - more on this also in a moment.

Memorial Day, then, is neither good nor bad - hence my ambivalence. Or, more precisely, I think it's wise and fitting to remember those who have died in warfare, to mourn their loss and to perhaps hope for something better. My ambivalence comes from the way that such memory has been co-opted into a vehicle for fueling current struggles. The sacrifices of yesterday are used to justify the sacrifices of today and to pave the way for the sacrifices of tomorrow. This is profoundly unwise and I believe dishonors those who we remember. No amount of memory of the past will turn present conflicts into just wars, and we are fools to participate in such nonsense.

I sat through one of the most profoundly disturbing Christian worship gatherings that I have ever attended yesterday - and I use the term "worship" loosely. I was visiting my parents this weekend, and my family attended their church on Sunday morning. I knew I was in for a long morning when I saw the prominence of the American flag on the stage upon entering the sanctuary - and I wasn't disappointed. From the singing of America the Beautiful during the worship to the sermon which was full of rousing support for the war on terror to the prayer in which we ostensibly asked God for victory to the video featuring numerous photos of soldiers to the soundtrack of "In Christ Alone" - the irony almost killed me - I felt as though I was being assaulted. I've seen some strange stuff in the arena of American civil religion masquerading as Christianity, but nothing has come close to the astounding display of "patriotism" that I witnessed yesterday.

I just sat in stunned silence. How can a Christian worship service address the question of war and never mention anything of peace? The word didn't show once, and I do not exaggerate. There was no talk of reconciliation, of love for the enemy, of the end of war in the Kingdom of God, or of the way of the Cross. None of the redemptive themes that make Christian reflections on war, well, Christian. Just an unquestioning embrace of current American foreign policy and the unspoken but very real implication that to disagree with said foreign policy is sinful.

Memory, for the Christian, is not about fueling and funding conflict. It is not about getting even; it is not about encouraging violence; it is not about celebrating death. Memory looks in two directions at once - it looks back to the past, while also looking forward to the future. And the future, for the Christian, is about the end of death and the reconciliation of all things. Remembering, for the Christian, fuels hope for the time when war itself will cease. It should, in other words, be redemptive. Should we remember those who have died in conflict? Absolutely - but let us remember all who have died, not just Americans, and let us do so mindful and hopeful of a time when war will be no more and death itself will die and fade to nothing.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." (Rev 21:1-4)

Technorati Tags: Memorial Day, theology

A Time To Speak

If you want to read something truly, deeply, and profoundly disturbing, take a look at these excerpts from the recent debate at the University of South Carolina among the Republican presidential candidates for 2008, courtesy Keith DeRose at Generous Orthodoxy ThinkTank. It's enough to make me physically nauseous. The question: "How aggressively would you interrogate those being held at Guantanamo Bay for information about where the next attack might be?" (It's part of a larger scenario, which seems to me to be merely a way to make the issue more palatable.) Take a minute to read the responses. I'll wait.

I know this post is mostly rhetorical. I know that few things should surprise me anymore from the party that I once called home - after all that this administration has been permitted to do and to be, why should this bit be any different? Why should I expect that the next candidate will represent any substantive change? I'll give McCain credit - he has both the credibility and the chutzpah to speak out on this issue, and his comments in the transcript are a breath of fresh air. Romney, on the other hand, scares the hell out of me - the telling quote: "Some people have said, we ought to close Guantanamo. My view is, we ought to double Guantanamo." And the chilling thing is that this statement received applause. Not surprise, not derision, not incredulity - applause.

Where is the Religious Right when it comes to an issue that is as obvious as torture? Where is Dobson's outrage and scathing denunciations? Where is Robertson's semi-coherent ranting? From those who most loudly claim to honor the sanctity of life, the silence is telling. More than that - it's damning. That someone like Dobson is more concerned over Giuliani's stance on abortion and McCain's beliefs about marriage than over either's views about an issue that is currently front-and-center in terms of US foreign policy is disturbing, and frankly makes me wonder which scriptures he's been reading.

On the bright side - I've been impressed with the National Association of Evangelicals' recent statements on social action. Their document on torture that was recently published is excellent and deserves respect. It's always good to be reminded that not everyone is drinking the Kool-aid and that there is still such a thing as a prophetic witness to the state, even if the ones who seem to get all the press have forgotten what such a thing requires.

Technorati Tags: Religious Right, torture

A Framework for Atonement Theology

I've been giving a fair amount of thought to atonement theology of late, and it occurred to me that it would be helpful to have some sort of framework to determine whether a particular theology of the atonement is a good theology or not. As I think through this, it seems to me that two criteria stand out in reading a particular theology of atonement: narrative coherence and ethical impulse. By the first, I mean this: a particular theology should fit well within the story as a whole, and should do justice to as much of the scriptural data as possible. A good theology will help to illuminate the narrative - and by this I'm thinking of the grand narrative that begins in Genesis and culminates in the new creation. It needs to take seriously the enormous effects of sin and brokenness that the scriptures relate, and it needs to be able to tell how the atonement resolves or otherwise deals with these effects. The second is closely integrated with the first - by ethical impulse, I mean that a particular theology of the atonement should enable/inspire/encourage/narrate a particular way-of-being in the world, so that one who follows Christ is given a way in which to follow. I say this because I assume that the Church is God's answer to the curse in the present age. This might seem a bit jarring at first, because I think many of us assume that the atonement is the entirety of God's response to sin. But I suggest that the outworking of the atonement is the creation of a community that will embody that atonement, living in a way that is no longer defined by the curse but is instead the life of the Spirit. To that end, a theology of the atonement must give that Spirit-life community a way-of-being, an ethic if you will, that says something about how we no longer function in that way, the way of the curse, but now live in this way, the way of the Spirit. A theology that does not provide this life-in-community impulse misses something integral to what it is that the atonement is to accomplish.

I think this framework illustrates why it is that we need multiple models to do justice to the atonement in terms of biblical theology. Thinking of two popular models, for example, I'm of the opinion that the moral example theory fails the first criteria, while penal substitution fails the second. That isn't to say that either of these models are bad, but rather that they are incomplete - they need other models to fill out the picture and provide a robust approach.

Technorati Tags: atonement

Random Thoughts on Atonement

I've spent the last several evenings with my computer dismantled as I attempt to bring the internal temperature down to an acceptable level. For some reason, the cpu temp keeps spiking, causing it to shut down - which, of course, makes for difficulty in blogging. Rearranging the internal fans and tweaking some settings on the motherboard has, I think, done the trick. I need to throw a better heat sink into the mix, but things seem to be functional for the moment.

In the interests of getting back into the groove of reflecting on the atonement, I wanted to post a few bits that I found recently that I think are quite helpful. First, N.T. Wright has published an absolutely fantastic article called The Cross and the Caricatures in which he takes on penal substitution in a balanced and nuanced manner. Some quotes:

The biblical doctrine of God's wrath is rooted in the doctrine of God as the good, wise and loving creator, who hates - yes, hates, and hates implacably - anything that spoils, defaces, distorts or damages his beautiful creation, and in particular anything that does that to his image-bearing creatures. If God does not hate racial prejudice, he is neither good nor loving. If God is not wrathful at child abuse, he is neither good nor loving. If God is not utterly determined to root out from his creation, in an act of proper wrath and judgment, the arrogance that allows people to exploit, bomb, bully and enslave one another, he is neither loving, nor good, nor wise. To trivialize - almost to domesticate! - this massive biblical doctrine, rooted as it is in the doctrines of God as creator and as the one who will restore his creation at the last (in other words, in the biblical sense, 'judge'), into a few anecdotal trivialities about God petulantly hurling thunderbolts around is hardly the way to begin a serious argument.

Underneath all this discussion is a deep concern which has emerged again in our own day, notably in the writings of the Yale theologian Miroslav Volf. In his magisterial Exclusion and Embrace (Nashville: Abingdon, 1994), he demonstrates, with sharp examples from his native Balkans, that it simply won't do, when faced with radical evil, to say, 'Oh well, don't worry, I will love you and forgive you anyway.' That (as the 1938 Doctrine Report already saw) is not forgiveness; it is belittling the evil that has been done. Genuine forgiveness must first 'exclude', argues Volf, before it can 'embrace'; it must name and shame the evil, and find an appropriate way of dealing with it, before reconciliation can happen.

There are large issues here of theological method and biblical content, all interacting with other large issues of contemporary hermeneutics: would I be totally wrong, for instance, to see some of the horrified reaction to Steve Chalke, and to some of the 'Emerging Church' reappropriation of the gospels, as a reaction, not so much against what is said about the atonement, but against the idea, which is powerfully present in the gospels, that God's kingdom is coming, with Jesus, 'on earth as in heaven', and that if this is so we must rethink several cherished assumptions within the western tradition as a whole? Might it not be the case that the marginalisation of the four gospels as serious theological documents within Western Christianity, not least modern evangelicalism, is a fear that if we took them seriously we might have to admit that Jesus of Nazareth has a claim on our political life as well as our spiritual life and 'eternal destiny'? And might there not be a fear, among those who are most shrill in their propagation of certain types of 'penal substitution', that there might be other types of the same doctrine which would integrate rather closely with the sense that on the cross God passed sentence on all the human powers and authorities that put Jesus there?

And speaking of Volf, from his absolutely excellent book The End of Memory:

If we view Christ on the cross as a third party being punished for the sins of transgressors, we have widely missed the mark. For unlike a financial debt, moral liability is nontransferrable. But Christ is not a third party. On account of his divinity, Christ is one with God, to whom the "debt" is owed. It is therefore God who through Christ's debt shoulders the burden of our transgressions against God and frees us from just retribution. But since on account of Christ's humanity he is also one with us, the debtors, it is we who die in Christ and are thus freed from guilt. Christ's oneness with both creditor and debtors leaves only two categories of "actors" and thus negates the notion of his involvement as a third party.

Volf's book is incredible - both challenging and encouraging. There is something deeply moving about his work; I think it's the eschatological vein that runs through it. I find it to be a source of hope in a way that more popular "eschatology" could never be. More to come on atonement - I want to pick up again the economic model that I've been discussing recently and see if we can't move towards something that's more holistic than perhaps other models.

Technorati Tags: atonement, N.T. Wright, Volf

Reflections on the Emergent Philosophical Conversation (p.2)

I mentioned in my previous post some of the highlights of the discussion at the recent Emergent event, but I also mentioned that I was left with some concerns and critiques as well. In the end, although I appreciated Caputo's and Kearney's approach, I simply couldn't go along with their conclusions. And, on some level, I don't think that their conclusions followed from their assumptions and method - in fact, I thought at some points that they were self-contradictory, or at the least inconsistent. But more on that in a moment.

To begin with, another word of appreciation is in order, because it frames my objections well. One of the themes of the discussion was particularity. On a side note, this is another thing that I've never heard carefully articulated by the critics: the reason that postmodern philosophy is critical of metanarratives is not because it does not believe in truth. Rather, it is because it holds that particular narratives reflect truth in different ways. And that isn't to say that truth can't be discussed, debated, or defended - we did a fair bit of that during the gathering, in fact. Rather, it is to say something about the personhood of the one with whom we converse. Caputo (if I recall correctly) put it something like this: if to be human is to be rational, and if to be wrong is to be irrational, then truth claims can be dehumanizing. In a general sense, I think there's something to that - not that we can't disagree, but rather that we must be careful how we disagree, because we're in a sense saying something about the humanity of our conversation partners in the manner of disagreement. Much, much more could be said here, but I'll leave it for another time. The point here is that the concern for particularity is really a statement about the personhood of the ones with whom we converse, and I think it's a valid (and necessary) concern.

However - and this is a big however - I felt like Caputo and Kearney in some sense violated their own rules here in how they approached particular Christian claims, specifically those about the uniqueness or exclusiveness of Christ. One of the things that became quite evident was that they both hold to some sort of universalistic deism, as I understood it - their approach at the end of the day was a fairly standard "all roads lead to God" sort of belief. God is ultimately unknowable by virtue of his transcendence, but all religions point towards something that might be called god, if we had to give a name to it. I had concerns with this on any number of levels, as anyone who's been around here for any length of time will no doubt guess. But one thing that bothered me in particular in this context was that they seemed to be violating their own rules.

Here, for me, is the problem: if postmodernity is in some sense about respecting personhood through recognition of particularities, didn't Caputo and Kearney just give every religion the finger? I mean, it is the particularities, after all, that make for the differences between religions. To try to make Christianity say the same thing as Islam or Judaism or Buddhism or Hinduism or any other religion that has something to say about spirit and being does violence to every single one of them. Each of these religions offers something different, something particular, something that makes it what it is - and in terms of the particularities, these offerings are by and large in disagreement with one another. To try to smooth over these differences, these particularities, is not only disrespectful to each of them - it is in some sense in contradiction to their own stated aims.

Furthermore, I discussed previously the critique that they offered of the "god of metaphysics". This, I thought, was particularly helpful. But I can't really see how this approach that they offered is any different. Instead of a metaphysic of rationality, aren't we just embracing a metaphysic of skepticism? To say that God is fundamentally unknowable is to create a principle before which God must bow - even should he choose to reveal himself to humanity in a way that is knowable. This to me is such a glaring flaw in their approach that I can't help but wonder how they navigate around it - unfortunately, it was never adequately addressed, even though it was apparent that many (although not all) folks in attendance were left with similar questions.

In all, it was a good event. I wish there had been more time for questions and discussion; I was a bit frustrated in that it seemed that we'd just get started on a topic of substance and time was up. That's not really a criticism of the event so much as it is just a recognition that I was ultimately left with more questions than answers from the perspective of the guests. Still, I found much in their approach to appreciate, even if I found their conclusions unsatisfying.

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