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February 12, 2007
The Social Gospel
I've always been a little suspicious of social-gospelers--those who would have it that Jesus came to Earth primarily as politician.
from "Foreword" by Archbishop Desmond TuTu
in Transfiguration
Fr. John DeafTraditionally the account of Our Lord's transfiguration and its sequel in the healing of the boy possessed by a demon has been interpreted as providing a paradigm of the encounter with God leading to engagement with the world, with evil, that the spiritual experience is not meant to insulate us against the rigors of life as experienced by most of God's children in a hostile world out there.
The encounter with God would constrain us to work for a new ordering of society, where we would beat our swords into plowshares and our spears into pruning hooks, and we would study war no more. . . . It is to see a fulfillment of God's dream, a new heaven and a new earth, when God will wipe away all tears and the wolf and the lamb will feed together and the lion will eat straw like the ox--"For they shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord" (Isaiah 65:25).
This book is a clarion call for us to be engaged in the project for world peace. We ignore it at our peril.
There is nothing in these words that is particularly provocative. It has long been central to the Carmelite tradition that contemplative prayer and union with God was not for the sake of the individual but for the sake of all the world. The plan of life of a lay Carmelite is to practice our faith and pray so that ultimately we might bring the fruits of contemplation to a world desperate for the smallest hint of the presence of God. The cloistered bring to the world the power of prayer and the presence amongst us of those who are God's intimate friends--to use a not-exactly correlative eastern term, Boddhisatvas--those who have attained enlightenment (in our case presence and Union with God) and remained behind to help others along the way--not necessarily by DOING anything, but simply by being a shining example to all.
However, my problem with the social gospel comes when Jesus is reduced to a political emissary from God whose sole purpose is to make things better on Earth for the majority of people. While this is certainly a part of His mission, it is, by no means, the full scope of what He came to do.
I approach this book, written by a disciple of the Berrigan brothers with some trepidation. While I strongly desire to agree with the central premise, I must admit to some prejudice against the case on the superficial evidence.
So, reading the book to record reactions will be an exercise in reining in those straining hounds that want to rip the premise to shreds on the basis of the fact that it appears at surface not to conform with the fullness of the Gospel message.
This is all said before the fact. I haven't read the book nor given the author the opportunity to argue his case. But I do myself and my audience no good if I do not start my undertaking with a sharp sense of my own suspicion and doubt. I want what is said here to be true, and I want to find elements of the truth, but I fear I may be overwhelmed by the tide of incidentals that while having nothing to do with the central argument, nevertheless inundate the central point. Tom, at Disputations, already noted one that I had observed in previewing the book--the constant dunning, drumming reference to the oppressive male hierarchy of the Church and how that is an instance of this same violence toward people. He speaks constantly of a male-dominated Church, while my experience is that it is one of the only Churches to hold up the supreme place of Our Lady, Mother of the Church and in a very real sense Mother of our Faith.
But already, I'm arguing, and I haven't even given my guest a cup of coffee and asked him to sit down. So, I must put myself and my misgivings aside and try to assess the worth of what is said.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:35 AM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
An Interesting Turn of Phrase
From a book I am reading at present, referring to the Vatican Secret Archives:
"The place was preternaturally silent, as though it had learned to be noiseless over the long years of its existence."
Comes a Horseman--Robert Liparulo
I hope to have more reaction to this book as soon as I can finish it.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 2:37 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
February 13, 2007
A Slow Sort of Review
from Transfiguration
Fr. John DearWhen I first met the great Jesuit peacemaker and poet Father Daniel Berrigan, I wanted his advice about the life that lay ahead for me, but I didn't know exactly what to say. "What's the point of all this?" I finally asked him.
Dan took my awkward question seriously. "All we have to do is make our lives fit into the story of Jesus," he said. "We have to get our lives to make sense in light of the Gospel."
What a helpful answer! I never forgot it. The Christian life, I was learning, is fashioned after the life of Jesus. As his followers, we have t know his story, enter his story, and make our story part of his story. The Gospel, in other words, is the measure of our lives. . . .
If we dare listen to Jesus and follow him closely on the road to peace, I am learning we too are transformed, and at some point, if only for a moment, even transfigured. Our lives are changed into light and love, we realize that we are God's beloved sons and daughters , and we shed Christ light for others, guiding them through this world of darkness. . . .
Encouraged by the transfigured Christ , by our own modern-day Moseses and Elijahs, we take another step on the Gospel journey of nonviolence into the world's violence. We listen closely to the words of Jesus and put them into practice. We even find strength to carry the cross of nonviolent resistance to injustice and welcome the risen Christ's gift of peace in our hearts and in the world.
Fr. Dear goes on to say that this book-length mediation on the transfiguration comes out of his discipleship journey with Jesus. In a word, this is a personal story with a very narrow focus, not a bad thing at all, but a thing which must be borne in mind as one enters the book. Otherwise paragraphps like the last one above tend to curdle and sour perception (after all, is the entire gospel message about nonviolence?). It isn't that the Risen Christ does not give the gift of the peace (shalom) to His followers, but rather that the gift is not coextensive with peace--there is a great deal more to than the peace of nonviolence and nonaggression. Indeed, there is more to it that peace alone. Peace is, in a sense, a side-effect of the reconciliation with God effected by the sacrifice. It is a side-effect of inestimable value, but the real gift remains even if an individual never experiences the peace of Christ in any life-transforming way.
Enough with the quibbles. What is notable above is the resonance of the first couple of paragraphs. Fr. Dear's story has obviously brought him deeply into the story of Jesus and from his experiences, he chooses to extract a small portion and share with us the vision that he has from them. Taken at this level, the book promises a certain richness, a richness that often comes with the very limitation of focus. In general one can be a mile wide and an inch deep or an inch wide and a mile deep. Few written works approach both expansiveness and depth. (One I can think of is The Anatomy of Melancholy by Robert Burton, but how many have even attempted that tome?)
So, if one accepts the premise of a laser-thin focus and meets the author on his own ground, so to speak, it would seem that both the differences and similarities of one's thought to that of the author would be accentuated. Where one agrees, agreement is likely to be profound, and disagreement and suspicion of conclusion is also likely to be deep.
I've only dipped into the book here and there and just started the reading. The prose is light and lively and the subject promises to be provocative. Hope to finish by Ash Wednesday and let you know more. In the meantime check out Transfiguration.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:13 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Pacifism and Nonviolence
from Transfiguration
Fr. John DearMay you be blessed as you journey up the mountain to meet the transfigured Jesus and follow him down the mountain as his disciple into the world of war, injustice, and violence on the Gospel mission of peace, love, and nonviolence.
Pacifism and nonviolence are related but not identical ideological stances. One might say that Pacifism is a subset of nonviolence. It is possible to be an aggressive pacifist; however, it is not possible to be an aggressive proponent of nonviolence. Nonviolence often incorporates the idea of nonresistance as well--that is that true nonviolence at its core proposes that anything that is "in opposition to" is in fact in violence toward. The nonresistant faction of the nonviolent tends to be very small and in my experience confined to community situations such as the Mennonites. I won't pretend to understand the fullness of nonresistance or its underpinnings, but I think that their use of the word violence does violence toward it.
Nonviolence sees violence in all sorts of situations that most of us would pass over without comment. A true practitioner of nonviolence would see violence in compulsory education laws. Violence (the force of law) is used to compel students who may or may not wish to participate to be educated.
I don't know if Fr. John Dear would fall into this group of extremes; however, it is evident that wherever he perceives injustice (whether or not it is truly there) he perceives a violence against nature, people, or God's law. His interest is not merely pacifism but nonviolence.
Now, were it not for original sin and the imperfectiblity of humankind in this realm, there would be nothing really wrong with the idea of nonviolence in its largest sense. However, nonviolence pretends that humankind can live in some kind of Edenic peace and joy--that through our works and prayers we can bring about the New Jerusalem ourselves. But the New Jerusalem is not a human state--it is a divine gift that comes from grace and God alone.
This does not mean we should not strive to come as close to that Edenic possibility as we can. However, stern-eyed realism demands of us that we recognize that the only time we truly live in peace is when there are strictures outside of ourselves that keep us in check. Self-regulation is not part of the built-in human apparatus--anyone who has dealt with a two-year old knows this. And the reality is that most of us carry around that two-year-old child within us throughout our lifetimes. The job is to encourage that child to mature--and the great Saints managed this, living a life of self-restraint and contemplation. They are our examples and the direction we should all go. But to propose that all people will in the same degree and at the same pace suggests a grossly deformed theo-anthropological system.
Nonviolence is an individual choice. To force it upon others is, in some sense, perpetrating violence. To force it upon others by saying that it is divine decree uses a different system of violence. The only way to encourage nonviolence is not upon pain of sin, but rather upon the firm understanding that we are meant to become like God and move toward His peace and love for all. Some people seem to think that pacifists and those in favor of nonviolence think that all who do not agree with them are dreadful sinners headed straight for Hell. That may be true for some inclined to pacifism, but it is not true for me. Pacifism and nonviolence are akin to private revelations--they are binding upon those to whom they have been revealed, but they are not necessarily incumbent upon all of humanity. Jesus himself was not nonviolent. He overthrew the money-changers' tables and scourged them out of the temple. He called the Pharisees "whitewashed sepulchers"--an extreme of verbal violence. So the call to nonviolence would radically distort the story of Jesus in order to make its point. Those in favor of nonviolence (myself among them) must start by acknowledging that the path we tread isn't the path everyone is called to--although there are aspects of that journey that are universal.
Don't know why I'm maundering on about this. But I will probably do so more later when there is time to clarify and refine what I'm trying to get at.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:04 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
February 14, 2007
A New Metric
The old miles/gallon metric on the efficiency of automobiles has not proven satisfactory to me in analyzing how my present vehicle is serving me. So I've thought of a "new" metric that in the face of rising gas prices makes more sense to me--miles/dollar (Or in the case of ultra-inefficient vehicles dollars/mile).
In this new metric my present vehicle delivers on the order of 24-25 miles/dollar. A comparison--my old vehicle delivered approximately 8-9 miles/dollar. A significant improvement.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:12 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
Pacifism and Nonviolence: Addressing Comments
Because I love this topic and really want to understand how, if at all, it can fit in with the clear line of Church teaching, and because it appears that I have not explained my point clearly, I will respond to comments on Pacifism and Nonviolence in this post.
First, very politely to Chris who stands a little further inside the boundary than I do. I frankly can't conceive of how overthrowing tables and whipping people can be viewed as anything but violent. "Zeal for thy house consumes me." Righteous anger can be acted upon and may result in fireworks. One further point, Jesus Himself pointed out that "And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force." (Matthew 11:12). I won't argue exegesis, but let's just agree that we won't see eye-to-eye on this particular point.
But to this, I have a much more extensive reply:
Comment from Nate Wildermuth
You make a case for violence as a necessary evil in our fallen world.
But if Christ's love hasn't made all evil unnecessary, then in what way has it freed us? If Christ's love has empowered us to love in the face of death - and in doing so, to conquer it. This isn't about nonviolence. This is about Christ's nonviolent love.
"You make a case for violence as a necessary evil in our fallen world." If so, I have failed in what I would like to say. I don't believe that it is a "necessary evil," but that it is an actual evil in the fallen world. I do not know if it is necessary, though I strongly suspect not. I do know that it exists at present and at times in the past and in times to come it has been necessary to preserve the way of life of Christians and others throughout the world. Whether or not this justifies the use of violence is an exercise for stronger theologians than myself.
"But if Christ's love hasn't made all evil unnecessary, then in what way has it freed us?" As I said above, evil isn't necessary--that is, of course, the point of Christ's coming to us. Evil is not only unnecessary it is counter to the action and desire of God. Christ came to free us from our sin and our own self-imposed slavery to the princes of this world. In doing so, He showed us a better way.
I think there are too many passages to go into here in which Jesus clearly shows us that the best way is the way of nonviolent interaction with our brothers and sisters. "Who lives by the sword, dies by the sword." "If thine enemy smite thy cheek turn him the other." And how many times, seven? No, indeed, 7 x 70 times.
At the same time I must acknowledge that there are clear indications in the Gospel of the right and the responsibility to defend the common good. "There will ever be wars and rumor of wars. . ." I am not arguing that Jesus thought this the best way, merely that it was the way things were to be.
Your point is valid. Once all of humanity embraces the love of Jesus Christ we can enter into the time when the lion will lie down with the lamb. It is up to voices like ours to speak of this time and to present the possibility of nonviolence--to show that while it may be possible to legitimately and without sin end things in a violent way (if Just War Doctrine is true), that it is not the best way nor even a better way. My point is that aggressive pursuit of this end, to the point of threats and violent argumentation is counterproductive to the end of nonviolence. Nonviolence must be modeled in our demeanors, in our means of argumentation, in our lives. And nonviolence is a gift given to a few--a gift to be shared and to be encouraged among others as much as we can, but a gift nevertheless. And most of us use and practice that gift very poorly. While I might be an okay pacifist, I would not serve as the poster boy for nonviolence. Any who have witnessed my interactions around blogdom recognize that I have a fiery temperament that can express itself more forcefully than circumstances would necessitate when provoked. That is the root of violence itself. So, while I'm growing toward that end and trying to understand how it fits in with traditional Catholic teaching, I am not there yet.
The truth of the matter is that I am uncertain about nonviolence and pacifism and their interface with Catholic teaching. I would certainly say that the Church has made it clear that there are times when violent actions can be justified. Traditional teaching or war and the death penalty show this; however, I might go further and say that it is my sense that the Church does not see these things as the "better way." While they might be justifiable given the weaknesses of human nature, they are not the best or swiftest way to effect God's will, which, as you noted, is peace, love, and union with all of His children.
Hope that serves to clarify the point and thank you for the comment and the opportunity to try to express better what I intend.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:15 AM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
"Nonviolent Civil Disobedience in the Temple"
The optic through which Fr. John Dear chooses to view the life of Jesus seems to have a curious flaw, or perhaps merely blinders:
from Transfiguration
Fr. John DearHe was on his way to Jerusalem, where he would engage in nonviolent civil disobedience in the Temple, an act that would lead the authorities to arrest and execute him. On the mountain, in that place of solitude and beauty, God transformed him and gave him a taste of the resurrected life to come. He became the Christ he would become.
I found the first sentence provocative and the second mildly disturbing. Did Jesus "become the Christ" or was He born as the Christ? I didn't know that Jesus was not the Savior from the time of His birth, that this title was only conferred upon Him as He "earned" it or merited it. Perhaps what Fr. John meant to say here is that He was revealed to some of his disciples as the Christ. But that is not my sense of this passage. I won't go on because my Christology is not exemplary, but it just struck me as a very wrong-headed way to go about looking at Jesus.
More than that, was it "nonviolent civil disobedience" that led the authorities to arrest and execute Him? Or was it something more? Certainly one could argue that Jesus did often commit "nonviolent civil disobedience" and it caused enormous discomfort among those in charge of things. But to reduce the cause of Jesus' death to this strikes me as reducing the cause of World War I to the single event of the assassination of the Archduke Ferdinand.
Tom at Disputations pointed out currents in the book that worked to reduce the Gospel message to one of nonviolent civil disobedience, and this seems an overt instance of it. However, I'm still in the act of synthesizing and thinking about the argument, rereading and trying to understand the focus and the fullness of what is here.
One thing I can say is that the book is worth reading for the points it brings up and for the argument that surfaces. Agree or disagree, it will get you thinking about Jesus and His life and teachings, and that in itself, regardless of whether you end up agreeing or disagreeing with Fr. Dear's arguments, is a worthwhile pursuit.
Posted by Steven Riddle at 8:41 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
Comes a Horseman
I apologize to you, my weary audience, for I've already pushed out a great mass of stuff, but before the heat dies on the burner of memory, I thought I'd post just one more--a book review.
Westbow, an imprint of Thomas Nelson publishers--renowned largely for their gigantic Bible-publishing enterprise--is a smart, savvy press that seems to "get it." In recent days I've read a number of books that have been issued by this press, and they have been uniformly well-written and at the core Christian. However, none of them bear the traditional marks of some Christian publications. That is, Christian publishers are catching on and finding out that you need engaging characters, a plot, and good writing to lure readers. The Christian message will out in the course of things if you keep the reader reading.
So, we have Comes a Horseman by Robert Liparulo--an unlikely entry in the Evangelical publisher's catalog--Pagan Norse serial killers with wolf-dog hybrid assistances working for the would be Antichrist on his way up. We have two FBI CSI-like investigators who start with the serial killings and then are well on their way to becoming victims themselves. The book is an intricate, complicated thriller that centers around the rise of a pretender to the position of Antichrist with the assistance of a group of watchers. There are several separate strands that are finally brought together in a satisfying if somewhat protracted conclusion.
The book is long and there's a bit more explanation toward the very end than seems plausible given the circumstances. However, these are the same problems that show up in nearly any book of the genre. What is here moves quickly and carries the reader along. Faith is an ordinary part of the lives of the characters and is portrayed as such. When a character prays it makes sense and seems real in the context. One of the main characters is an agnostic who does not miraculously by the end of the book "come to Jesus."
In all, we have smart fiction for the Christian or, I suspect, the non-Christian reader. The non-Christian approaching this book will not be alienated by overly pious characters suddenly falling on their knees just before the villains are about to descend upon them. Indeed, as with Tolkien, the religious message is there and is probably more effective for its stealth treatment and its permeation throughout the text rather than for preaching directly.
A good read for those into the serial-killer/apocalyptic thriller genre. A big beach book--so buy it for summer reading and leave it where someone who may not be Christian can find it. Evangelism through art--sweet!
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:05 AM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
February 15, 2007
"Radical Discipleship to Jesus"
Notwithstanding any of my previous commentary on the book , we then have passages like these:
from Transfiguration
Fr. John DearI can think of no greater life than radical discipleship to Jesus. Companionship and friendship with Jesus, and the Gospel work of justice and peace that this life entails, may sound quaint, pious, and naive, if not idealistic or surreal, but I submit, as the saints and martyrs testified, that it is the most authentic and rewarding life. Each one of us can choose to live our days in the company of Jesus, to walk in his footsteps, enter his story,a nd become his friend and companion.
Other than the very narrow focus on what the "Gospel work" entails, this is one of many passages in which Father Dear encourages and expatiates upon the beauty, integrity, and meaning of a life lived for, with, and through Jesus Christ. There are some wonderful passages that describe this life and even give details about how to move from our present lives into this close companionship with Jesus.
Fr. Dear's contention is that this close companionship with Christ will foster a thirst for justice and peace, and that is, without question true.
from Transfiguration
Fr. John DearReliance on Jesus is the heart of the Christian life. The saints testify that the key to their lives was not their great accomplishments, their terrible sufferings, their bold prophecies, or even their astonishing miracles. It was Jesus. Somehow, he had touched them, invited them to follow him, and managed to walk by their side. Through his grace they remained faithful to him, rooting everything they did in their intimate relationship with him. Their lives made sense and bore good fruit because they were centered on Jesus.
All the outstanding figures of the past century exemplify this devotion to Jesus. Dorothy Day, founder of the Catholic Worker, wrote shortly before her death in 1980 that she was grateful and luck because "Jesus has been on my mind nearly every day of my life."
He goes on to list Martin Luther King, Oscar Romero, Mahatma Gandhi, Flannery O'Connor, Thomas Merton, and Philip Berrigan, all of whom he calls "modern-day Saints." And I suppose that is true enough, and yet it reads like a litany of "the usual suspects" in a certain way of thinking. Where is Padre Pio, Fr. Solanus, and other figures of that type in this list of prominent persons of the 20th Century? He does list Mother Teresa, but it seems that his list is rather heavily weighted toward the social activist side of the spectrum.
But then, one must grant another's preferences and biases. No list of outstanding figures of the 20th century will include everyone. But one must wonder at such a list that excludes Pope John Paul II among others.
Oh well, I guess I've shown my hand.
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An Off-Hand, Provocative Comment
In my present light reading, this quotation:
from Forever Odd
Dean KoontzThe less depth a belief system has, the greater the fervency with which its adherents embrace it. The most vociferous, the most fanatical are those whose cobbled faith is founded on the shakiest ground.
It's in a novel. It's the personal thoughts of a character. It has no great pretense at wisdom. And yet there is something about it that is suggestive and worthy of examination. I think particularly of Tom Cruise bouncing on a couch and proclaiming his all encompassing perduring love for whoever it is he's presently involved with. And I think of other similar situations. What comes to mind when you read the quotation?
Posted by Steven Riddle at 9:08 AM | Comments (5) | TrackBack
Two More Bon Mots
Another couple of amusing moments from the light-read. No spoilers here, but amusing.
from Forever Odd
Dean KoontzHaving by now eaten in excess of five thousand bananas, she might understandably have lost her taste for them--particularly if she had done the math relating to her remaining obligation. With 974 years to live (as a serpent, small s), she had approximately 710,000 more bananas in her future.
I find it so much easier being a Catholic. Especially one who does get to church every week.
******
When she returned, she smiled and said, "We were at the movies once, and this dork took two phone calls during the film. Later we followed him, and Andre broke both his legs with a baseball bat."This proved that even the most evil people could occasionally have a socially responsible impulse.
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February 16, 2007
Forever Odd
This, the second of the Odd Thomas books by Dean Koontz, is somewhat more low key. The first dealt with an amazing array of evil brought to an near-apocalyptic climax. The evil Odd Thomas fought was so great that it attracted shadows, harbingers of the blood to come.
In this second book there are shadows, but not of the same type. And while we explored evil in the first book, more as a phenomenon than as a personal reality, in this book we meet evil as a personal choice: it's avatar, compared frequently to Kali is Datura, perhaps the single most evil person in modern literature. Her evil is both wicked and malicious.
The story is more intimate, quiet and subdued. A friend of Thomas's, a friend since childhood, a friend with osteogenesis imperfecta is kidnapped by Datura and her merry men and taken a long, tortuous, and circuitous route to an abandoned Casino in the desert near the town where Thomas lives. He is called and challenged to find them. He does and the story transpires.
Koontz is able to use this slower story to show us personal evil in considerable detail. As a result, he is also able to build up his theme of good and evil and the choices we make that construct that path. Moreover, he is relentless in his insistence upon the lack of mitigating factors when we choose evil. As we brood upon Datura, we discover more and more that whatever her past, it is her choices that form her and make her what she is.
Because of these big thematic reflections, certain imperfections in the story are of less moment than they would otherwise be. What happens to Datura and her two Chevals, in a novel of lesser thematic depth, would be a bit disappointing. But in this novel, they are sufficient to the moment because the story is about more than mere event.
I'm not going to pretend that this is come terribly deep philosophical rumination on the nature of evil. But the thematic material in the book far exceeds that normally found in light fiction. The tone remains light throughout, but some of the ideas that Koontz trots out are not light at all--nevertheless they are made palatable by the superb craftsmanship of the story.
I can only hope that Brother Odd lives up to the standard set in the first two books. These represent for me the first readable Koontz in years, and it is indeed quite readable, and nevertheless filled with a certain seriousness.
Recommended.
Now I'm on to another Westbow publication from an author whose first book was written so execrably that I was unable to force myself through half of it, but whose talent seems to have soared rapidly. The book--Obsession by Ted Dekker and so far we have a nasty ex-nazi and a fantastical treasure called The Stones of David. Promising.
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A Joint Effort
Please join our Dallas Blogger Friends in their prayerful effort to put an end to abortion.
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