It is perhaps predictable for readers of this blog that at least one of us should write about Memorial Day. We are not often shy in our youthful enthusiasm and naivity about our conflicted loyalties as American citizens and also of the Church; and of the necessity of radical discipleship in the face of what we, or I at least, perceive as a nation state who has hijacked a Christian soteriology.
I am an American. My life is pretty good. I am grateful for the gifts and opportunities that I have had throughout my life, some of which I would not have had in some other countries. It would be dishonest of me not to note this. I often hear that these benefits are only possible because of the sacrifices of soldiers who have bravely fought and willingly sacrificed for the United States. That may in part be true, but it also points to a larger picture that I should like to address.
It would be easy to blame Constantinianism, blame the Enlightenment, blame the rise of atomistic politics for war, but the old adage about pointing your finger seems to ring true: “If you point your finger, you’ve three fingers pointing back at you.” My life is what it is with reference to these things. I cannot transcend the history in which my identity is tied up. So a simple blame game can only implicate myself in those things which I blame. I am not an island unto myself: who I am is only as it is in relation to other people and to the past which we narrate into our identities.
I’d like to think through this with reference to a few Christian doctrines:
It is common to hear Augustine blamed for the doctrine of “Original Sin.” This is, as most such “blame the fathers for a doctrine” schemes are, reductionistic and crude. Whatever the case though, we can thank Foucault for making the doctrine much more plausible in the contemporary scene. There seem to be structures of power and violence in place before I even come to be in the world. They are things over which I have little to no control and are fundamental to my existence, so much so that for most of my life they are invisible. I am born into a world already organized politically, economically, sociologically, religiously. This is essentially the doctrine of Original Sin: that structures of oppression, violence and rebellion against God are ‘already in place’ and work to form us as people before we are able to understand or critically resist them.
Because these structures are there from the beginning, they are easily taken for granted; assumed to be a natural given, something inevitable and often even good, as in being American, or at the very least ethically neutral, as in market economics. Memorial Day fits in well here. It is easy to assume that, because we have a relatively good life, the given social structures that we have are ‘how things are’ or ‘how the world works.’ The thought follows, that if we as Americans enjoy “freedom” and “prosperity” then the possibility of war as means to defend this freedom and prosperity are a necessity.
But no sooner is that thought out of my mouth than I realize that this implicates my own well being in a cycle and chain of violence and oppression. We return again to the fact that our world still operates in a cycle of “Original Sin.” My life is implicated and intertwined in the lives of others and that life is often manifested in and guaranteed by war.
This is why classical theology is so very important. Christ enters into this world as one not implicated in this cycle. His sinlessness means for us that by the power of the Spirit we are brought into the life of a God whose very nature from all eternity is one of perfect peace, perfect mutuality. We are not merely shown a way to live well, as if Christ was a mere moral exemplar – which is good as we are rather bad at such imitation – rather, by virtue of our baptism and infilling of the Holy Spirit, we are incorporated into that life of peace and given the means to live it.
This is why the Church is a politics and why it can and ought to challenge the givenness of Memorial Day. In the Church, we are commanded to live reconciled lives to each other, submitting to each other, loving each other, giving to each other even as Christ gives perpetually and without reservation to the Father, a giving we are able to do only on account of the Spirit. There is no other name by which we might be saved.
This then is what I mean by the crisis of doctrinal imagination; that we have become accustomed to imagining the Christian Gospel as one merely effecting ones personal salvation post-mortem. Original Sin, Christ’s sinlessness, God as Trinity, the exclusivity of the Church; all of these reduced to crude propositional statements needed to fill a gap in narrative logic become worn out quickly and whither and die. The Gospel makes a difference as to how we conceive our political allegiances. This isn’t about some stupid “Right vs Left” thing. This is an Isaiah 2.1-5 kind of thing:
1 The word that Isaiah the son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.
2 And it shall come to pass in the last days, that the mountain of the LORD’S house shall be established in the top of the mountains, and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto it.
3 And many people shall go and say , Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths: for out of Zion shall go forth the law, and the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.
4 And he shall judgeamong the nations, and shall rebuke many people: and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.
5 O house of Jacob, come ye, and let us walk in the light of the LORD
This raises the problem of the Church’s need to relearn how to read the Old Testament Christologically, but that is for another day. For now I hope I’ve hinted however poorly at the ways in which the Christian proclamation ought to revise other stories which we tell about ourselves. I also hope I’ve done it in a way that does not reduce to finger pointing at American soldiers as such essays as this even of mine have been prone to do.
Hannah’s Child: A Theologians Memoir, by Stanley Hauerwas
Published by William B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.
ISBN: 978-0-8028-6487-1
My thanks to Kelly Hughes for the review copy!
This last Sunday, Pentecost Sunday, was at my parish a joyous celebration. We flew a dove in the procession, we read Acts 2.1-12 in 24 languages simultaneously in honor of the Spirit being poured out on all peoples, we prayed for, blessed and sent a pastor and his family as they prepared to leave us and return to ministry in South Africa having spent two years pouring in their gifts to our congregation, we had a baptism of a new child, pledging to raise the child in the faith and renewing our own baptism, and we even had a first communion.
I can think of nothing that would please Stanley Hauerwas more or that could sum up more appropriately the themes of Hauerwas’ new memoir, Hannah’s Child. Hannah’s Child is not a biography, thank God. Rather than filled with dates and dry reportage, this book amounts to a theological reflection on his life. In fact originally Hauerwas had wanted the subtitle to be “A Theological Memoir” rather than “A Theologians Memoir” but Eerdmans didn’t think it would sell well! Which is, to be fair, probably true. But the original title itself ought to be an indicator of the theological character of the work.
Hauerwas’ mother and father had wanted to have a child for some time but they had remained childless. Desperate, his mother prayed the prayer of Hannah, promising to dedicate her child to the Lord should she become pregnant. It is then providential that that child should become, according to Time magazine, “Americas Best Theologian.” Whatever else he is, Hauerwas is at least controversial and few people who care about contemporary theology do not have an opinion of him. (Surprisingly, many in academia cannot reconcile themselves to his radical ideas. Hauerwas dryly notes that there seems to be a recent trend in younger academics to prove that they are not “Hauerwasian.” A trend I am more than happy to buck and hold in derision.)
As is to be expected, the book is filled with catchy one liners and quixotic stories:
“I don’t believe in California”
”I am not a pacifist because of a theory, I am a pacifist because John Howard Yoder convinced me that nonviolence and Christianity are inseparable”
”Most people do not have to become a theologian to become a Christian but I probably did.”
There are several themes that end up repeating themselves throughout. Whether this is intentional or not I don’t know; I don’t much care for authorial intent or original meanings of texts anyway.
Much of Hauerwas’ adult life was lived under the dark shadow of life with a mentally ill wife. Anne Hauerwas had bipolar disorder and was verbally abusive to Stanley and even their son Adam throughout much of the 20 years they were married. A large portion of the narrative is dominated by Anne and her behaviour. At times she manifested huge fantasies and delusions; sometimes believing that other men loved her and/or were being hounded by demons, from which only her and her bed could rescue them; or sometimes she would blame Stanley for all of the problems in her life; being an artist and having read feminist literature she thought him oppressive and patriarchichal. She showed very little interest in Adam even when he would win awards or get into great schools. Even after she left Stanley, she attempted drastic moves to pull him back into the swirling chaos, an attempt that ultimately failed. She died young of heart failure but she left an indelible mark on Hauerwas.
Besides Anne, the institutions where Hauerwas has worked have also exerted a lasting influence on him. He started out at a small Midwestern Lutheran school, Augustana. This is where he cut his teeth and was in turn cut by the world of academia of which to that point he knew little. Because of his minor involvement in disagreements over racism he stirred up enough waves to put him in poor relations with some in the school. His contract was not renewed. But he was to be picked up by Notre Dame. This is where he was to become a very Catholic Protestant, more Catholic indeed than most Catholics. This is also where he would come to know the work of John Howard Yoder. This had just as large an effect as anything else and he is to this day irreversibly in Yoder’s debt. He loved it there and would probably have never left but for the fact that Richard McBrien (who he affectionately calls “Dick” McBrien) became dean of the divinity school and enacted too many changes for Hauerwas’ liking.
“If you want to know where liberal Protestant theology has gone to die, one need not look much further than some Catholic theologians”
Hauerwas pulls no punches in his vivid descriptions of conflict with school and church leaders.
From there he ends up in Duke where he has been now for I believe 25 years. Though he has frustrations with Duke, not least of which is the separation of the divinity school from the university, Hauerwas is grateful for his time at Duke.
His account of all these institutions is peppered throughout with names of friends; far too many names for me to recall. More so than Anne or his time in institutions, the theme of Friendship is ingrained deep in the narrative. Hauerwas has many many friends and he is eternally grateful for these friends, without whom he says he could not be the person that he is. Friends got him and his son Adam through his years with Anne, friends made him the intellectual he is, friends are people who keep him accountable. His second wife and total love Paula is his closest friend. I was reminded of the great warmth of C. S. Lewis’ account of “Friend Love” in his stellar little book “The Four Loves.” Of things left for Hauerwas to write on, I hope he dedicates a book to a Christian understanding of friendship.
Similar to yet different than the large role of friends in his life, Hauerwas pays particular attention, appropriately, to the churches where he invested his life. From Lutherans at Augustana, to Catholics and Methodists at Notre Dame and Methodist and Episcopalians at Duke, he sees in these parishes, the incarnation of his own theology. The Church figures large in all he has done, apart from which he couldn’t be a Christian.
Finally, thanksgiving for all of these gifts is the glue that holds his entire memoir together. He cannot go more than a few paragraphs without pausing to give thanks for his parents, his employers, his friends and the Church.
I cannot recommend this book enough. It is easily readable and I hope that many Christians can be enriched and challenged and blessed by the gift that is Stanley Hauerwas by the reading of this book. It is not an abstract nor academic work, most anybody can read it without trouble. From it they could learn just how this theologian thinks of himself in relation to the Church, how he envisions himself serving, guiding and being guided by it. I’ve found myself grateful for my own life, my friends and the Church on account of it. I will be digesting it for some time to come.
What’s personality got to do with it?
May 24, 2010
Something that has always proven to be a great tool for dialogue is personal experience. I have noticed that people love to learn about themselves (and some people really love to talk about themselves - me, for instance). These observations have often lead me to wonder why the church does not incoroporate the role personality plays in achieving its goals more often. In fact, I often find my self wondering how much better equipped I would be to deal with my close relationships, if they just walked around with a myers-briggs acronym stamped on their foreheads.
So, let’s have some fun as we go into the summer months. Take one or more (usually more than one is good) of the following myers-briggs based personality tests and post your results for discussion. If you like, offer the group a brief description (or offer a link to said description) of your personality type. Of obvious importance to our group: What practical help do you think this type of practice would bring to the Church? What would a ”Theology of Psychology” or “Theological Psychology” look like? Do those “Spiritual Gifts” quizes count as personality tests for the Church? 
Here are a few links to free, on-line tests and my own personality type and its description.
Short Quiz:
Longer Quizes:
Quiz 3 – Results have to be sorted out of a list of greatest strengths in the left column
I took all of the quizes, and was identified as ENTJ by all of them but one (only a slight deviation ENTP) Here is the brief Myers Briggs definition of an ENTJ:
Frank, decisive, assume leadership readily. Quickly see illogical and inefficient procedures and policies, develop and implement comprehensive systems to solve organizational problems. Enjoy long-term planning and goal setting. Usually well informed, well read, enjoy expanding their knowledge and passing it on to others. Forceful in presenting their ideas.
(Sorry for the double-post, Reed, but I figured both posts were light hearted enough that they wouldn’t detract from one another)
“Sunday’s Coming”
May 24, 2010
In a video too similar to a popular meme to be coincidence, North Point Media offers us a satirical look at the Big Box churches.
“Sunday’s Coming” Movie Trailer from North Point Media on Vimeo.
It is all the more odd that the church responsible for Andy Stanley and a slew of church growth methods would now be poking fun at the very system it helped create.
Summer Resolution #1
May 20, 2010
I’ve decided a few summer resolutions are in order. The first is an evaluation of my free time. I am resolving to spend three hours each day this summer reading on a schedule (this probably is not far above my average time spent reading – but I get in a media rut in the summers), before devoting any time to media. Here is how I want to break it down, and I am coming to you all for suggestions:
1 hour/day – scholarly reading (I am likely to devote most of this time to RO, but may throw in some other good suggestions)
1 hour/day – enrichment reading (I am thinking I need to go back through writings by Plato, Shakespeare, Foster, Westerhoff, et al – but again, I am open for suggestions)
1 hour/day – enjoyment reading (Anybody read a great novel recently?)
A Minor Contribution to, “Theology: Does It Matter?”
May 18, 2010
It can be quite easy to remain in a state of oblivion to a wider world around you if one spends much of their time around people who value and assume the same things as you. I had not realized it, but with respect to theology, I had come to such a point.
One day I was working on my wife’s salon (Salon Ori, whoop whoop) with my Aunt. Now my aunt is a very intelligent Evangelical woman and has been a Christian her whole life. She was painting mirror frames and I was putting together standing-cabinets and I was recalling to her a conversation I had overheard where one of the party had said something to the effect of, “What’s the point of a theologian anyway?” I recalled this story with a blatant guffaw in my voice; the tone implying that such a question was obviously stupid and ignorant. But to my own humility my aunt looked at me and replied genuinely, “What is the point?”
I didn’t really have a coherent answer. Indeed, I’ve been thinking about that ever since. I needed to be able to explain to someone not only why theology is important, but why theologians (I sort of plan to sort of be one) might be justifiable. I shall briefly give two simple examples that I hope will make a simple and quite incomplete case for the importance of theology.
There is a famous scene in Plato’s Republic where “The Perfectly Just Man” is being described. Plato is attempting to tease out whether justice is something that ought to be sought and obeyed for itself alone or for the benefits, perceived or otherwise, that it will bestow on society or ones family. In the end, Plato imagines that this Just man would be ridiculed, scorned and finally crucified (the parallel has not been lost on Christians) for the “trouble” he would cause to society. Plato almost certainly had his beloved Socrates in mind here and Plato’s own final verdict is that justice (and all things which are good ultimately) are in themselves worthy to pursue and need no justification.
Or take for instance the Roman Catholic theologian William Cavanaugh. Here is a man who has been a primary editor for the massively influential, creative and sometimes utterly abstract theological journal Modern Theology; he has written a powerful book on “Torture and Eucharist;” he has contributed to inter Roman Catholic discussions on ecclesiology and ecumenism; all very academic and “ivory towered” things: Yet he also wrote a tiny little book on the relation between economics and the Church which is easy to understand, filled with practical examples of how to practice his ideas and theologically rich.
As I see it, Theology is uniquely equipped to speak to most academic and truth-seeking conversations in an infinitely inter-disciplinary way. Therefore, Theology is a vital and irreplaceable discourse in all searching after those things which are true and good, and so it needs no justification, no measurable utilitarian value. It is right and good for its own sake.
Also, Theology does not always lead to arguments about “how many angels can fit on the head of a pin.” It is highly questionable that Cavanaugh could have written his simple little book had he not spent all this time in serious and critical reflection on the Church. I’ll agree wholeheartedly, that there is often a great gulf between what goes on in some theological journals and what the parish needs. But to dismiss theology as some do, with a casual and ungrateful wave of the hand, having laid on theology all blame for our divisions, is to make a mistake. Let us not cut the head from the heart (so to speak), for the Church needs eyes, it needs hands, and perhaps, it even needs theologians.
Joseph Ratzinger in Communio: Vol I, The Unity of the Church
Eerdmans - 978-0-8028
Get it Here
My thanks to Eerdmans for the review copy!
Before he became Pope Benedict the XVI, he was Joseph Ratzinger; what is not known by all is that he has been one of the greatest Roman Catholic theologians of the post Vatican II era. It is unfortunate, much like the venerable Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams, that his time in a significant See has been deeply controversial, marred as it has been by many unfortunate and very public happenings. Indeed, his actions as Pope have often confused and frustrated me.
But I have come to know much more about Pope Benedict on account on the first of what aims to be a three volume collection of essays put out by then Joseph Ratzinger in the massively influential journal Communio. Published by Eerdmans, these are part of a larger series dealing with the “Ressourcement” thinkers within Roman Catholicism. This certainly solidifies Eerdmans as a premier ecumenical publisher and their work in this series is to be greatly appreciated.
This first volume of essays float around the topic of “The Unity of the Church.” The future volumes will deal roughly with “Anthropology” and “Theological Renewal.” Many of these essays are previously untranslated and I must point out how much I enjoyed these translations. Oftentimes I’ve found translations of German theology to sound rough and rude; these on the other hand maintain a warm and learned tone throughout. The essays are all thoughtful, purposeful, and academically serious but none are abstract and could be read by most any thoughtful Christian. This quality, along with the relative brevity of the essays themselves, make for very fast reading, which gave me a sense of accomplishment and allowed me to finish the book quite quickly.
What was also rewarding was that some of my own fears with respect to ecumenical dialogue were put to rest by learning that Pope Benedict has spent time thinking about topics that I’ve wondered whether they are considered at such a high level of authority within Roman Catholicism. For instance he considers in “What Unites and Divides Denominations? Ecumenical Reflections” that it may just be the nitpicking insanity of theologians and bishops arguing about angels and pin heads that keeps us apart; a conclusion that he does not feel is sound; or also, in his essay on the ecclesiology of Vatican II, he explores several ways of seeing the Church; as Mystical Body; as Eucharistic body; as related to the collegiality of bishops; and as the People of God. This resists some who claim that the “body of Christ” vision is a single minded and ideological ecclesiology within Roman Catholicism.
There are many topics covered in this volume, from relations with Jews, discussions on Luther’s theology to an excellent essay about the theology of Hans Urs von Balthasar. Much like the sympathetic and concise readings of Barth and de Lubac by Balthasar himself, when Ratzinger discusses his friend Balthasar one feels like they are let in on a fireside conversation between scholars; a treat to be sure. Ratzinger looks into liturgy and sacred music, justice and religion, economics and the Church and much besides.
In my opinion one thing that the book obviously needs is an index but otherwise I greatly enjoyed this, I look forward to the future volumes, and I highly recommend it for the edification of a divided Church.
Tony Hunt
jstambaugh
Shawn Wamsley
