Back in Gear

So. I'm vacuuming at work, just as we're closing. And I'm thinking, for whatever reason, about my customers that day. Many nations. Many cultures. Many ways of thinking, each of which is represented and explored by some of my product (I sell videogames now, parttime). But, I think with a rush of pride, this is what's cool about America. Room for every culture, and room for every gens on earth. And we (the "old" Americans, be they black, white, or brown), lap it up. People go out for pho and Thai noodles and Ethiopian food, and we celebrate the best elements (in food especially, but in philosophy as well) of every culture that has taken up residence in this great nation of ours.

And then I wonder. What are the "best" elements? Are they inherently good? Or are they situationally good? That seems sensible. Culture responds to environment and need. If you can't get just the stuff you need for the religious festival, you make do with what you have. Eventually, that becomes the tradition - culture is adaptive. So the "best" elements that America absorbs are those that function best, and for which there is most need. From there it's easy to extrapolate - the only inherently "good" thing about the American cultural ethos is its willingness to adapt (read: steal) culture from other peoples. There is no really "worthy" or "precious" American value (which is completely uniquely American) except the pursuit of the useful value.

Well, I thought, how does this apply to religion? Religion is the corporate or communal response to the experience of the divine (Johnstone, under Creative Commons). And our religion is shaped by the corporation or community in which we find ourselves worshipping. I worship quite differently from Christians in Zambia or in India or in China...but we are all responding to that divine experience. And all of us have worship quite distinct from that which obtained in the past - or which will in the future - but the response of religion, (even aside from your particular faith background) is common to all cultures.

All of that, however - the adaptability of culture, and the synchronicity of religious expression, seems to me quite distinct from faith (the daily actions we undertake on the basis of our beliefs) and from gospel (the universal message of divine reconciliation shared by the Incarnate Word).

Gospel knows no bounds of culture - it is as true in deepest darkest Antarctica as on the plana of Mars. God loves us and wants to be in true relationship with us. That can be true whether you worship with guitar or with organ or in silence or in scientific exploration.

Faith, our continuous response to the wondrous message, is likewise the same, however it is expressed. That we love our neighbours, and that we seek to be in that right relationship with each other and with God, and that we act that way is a constant, even if one culture's deep insult is another's highest revelation of love.

Faith and gospel transcend (and transform) culture. They surely are not isolated from it, and they are also not fundamentally altered by that relationship, just as the Immutable God can weep for His dead Son (more on this later).

Long story short is this:

I'm back, baby.

Pro tip: upcoming post, on how we interpret sacraments in light of the above.

Holiday

It is that time of year again. Good, harvest food - gourds and root vegetables. Through the falling leaves, and into the first sounding of the trumpets of winter. It's a season when we consider our own gratitude - we give thanks for food, for our lives, for our families.

We give thanks for superheroes.

Thanksgiving of my sophomore year of college, I couldn't afford to fly home, so I just parked myself in my dorm room with supplies, and books. Everything I needed. I got bored out of my mind. I went to the video store. I rented something like six movies. By chance, they all happened to be superhero movies. And thus began one of my favorite holiday traditions. Every Thanksgiving, I rent or buy superhero movies, and pay particular attention to the philosophy, the literary implications, and (especially this year) the theology of superheroes.

Apologies to the uninitiated as it concerns superheroes - I'm about to get very specific in my examples. I invite you to look these cats up on Wikipedia, if you don't know who they are already. Suppose, for just a moment, that you live in the Marvel Universe (copyright the Disney Corporation, 2009). Where is the church? What sorts of sermons do you hear about those with special powers? How does the presence of truly exceptional people affect your understanding of, say, Romans? Is there a religious contingent speaking out against the Nephilim of Genesis? Do the sorts of hatred and fear that characterize the X-Men series spring not from political pressures, as the movies depict, but from the church? How does the church receive Iron Man? What about Spiderman? Colossus? The Beast?

There are, then, two sorts of questions that we can immediately apply, here. One is the question of power - a central issue in the comic book genre, and a concern of our churches everywhere. How do we integrate and accept the powerful into our churches - the wise, the strong, the brave, the influential, the rich? How do we preach the saving and humbling gospel of Jesus Christ to those who think that they have no reason to be humble, and feel that they have no need to be saved? How do we evangelize the Fantastic Four?

Second, and even more worrying to me, is the question of difference. I can see churches not having a problem with (and some churches being very excited about) having Tony Stark (Iron Man) in the pews. Likewise, out of costume, Peter Parker (Spiderman) poses no problems. But Bruce Banner (Hulk) in his more verdant state? Johnny Storm (Human Torch), in need of an asbestos pew? On the other end of the thermometer, is Iceman going to be able to take communion without a) freezing his grape juice or b) causing quite a stir? Can we, as church, truly be open and accepting of everyone - everyone - even if they are visibly different? Can we preach the good news to all, be church for all those baptized, administer our sacraments and truly engage discipline, even to the exceptional among us?

I'm not sure, yet. But Lord, do I hope so.

DOUBLE FEATURE: A Trip to Bountiful / The Unbelievable Truth

We have here a curious duality - one movie whose title is completely obvious, and another which, after two viewings, I still can't really fully describe. Let's dive in, shall we?

Vital Statistics:
A Trip to Bountiful, 1985
Rating: K

A Trip to Bountiful is based on a stage play by Horton Foote, which I was fortunate enough to see at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, OR. I don't remember much of the stage production, except a crystal image of the abandoned house, picked out in oranges and browns. The play I recall as being very autumnal, which the film is strikingly not. This movie is a summer movie, a summer movie set in southwest Texas of the early 1940s. It's the story of a highly dysfunctional family (which I recall being better played onstage), and one woman's journey to return to her roots. It's a film loaded with hope, a "creation" film. It has one of my favorite hymns in it, and one of my mother's as well - "Softly and Tenderly," a classic old rooter.

As for theology...there's a definite connection between the idea of Bountiful (this woman's hometown) and Eden - a sense of loss and a desire to return to her roots. There's a strong distinction drawn between loving your neighbour and not. Some characters are cruel and spiteful - all the fellow-travelers are kind and helpful. This is, of course, promptly deconstructed when you begin to see the good intentions behind the cruelty and spite of the "evil." I was struck especially by the rather wistful portrayals of the nameless girl on the bus, and the sherriff. Might-have-beens connect with the desire to return to Eden. And once you get there...it helps. It puts you back on a half-remembered path. The journey and the destination mingle to create a new person, once you've walked the road.

That may have sounded a bit maudlin. The movie's kinda like that.


The Unbelievable Truth, 1989
Rating KJ-13

Have you, ever had a conversation where you and the other person weren't actually listening to one another? Not just "waiting for your turn to speak," I mean that you're both essentially monologuing on unrelated topics.

Imagine that, only it's a movie. The whole movie. There's a scene like that in the movie, but, in fact, the whole movie is kind of that way. We've talked a bit in class about film as a conversation, but in this conversation, whatever I might have tried to say to Hal Hartley, The Unbelievable Truth was going to go the direction he wanted it to go.

There's a continuous refrain with the main character: "Are you a priest?" "No, I'm a mechanic." And it sounds absurd. But there seems to be something in common there. I couldn't tell you what, but something.

This, thus far, has been my favorite of the movies, and is a contender for champion overall. We'll see.

*A note on the rating system. These are intended largely for my mother - sort of an old joke. They are as follows.

K - Mom, you will object to nothing in this movie.
KJ - Oh, I'd forgotten that scene. Whoops. Sorry.
KJ-13 - Okay, there are a few bits we're gonna fast-forward through...
F - Sorry, Mom. I broke the DVD.

Babette's Feast

So, the Barkeep would want me to mention that Babette's Gaestebud was directed by Gabriel Axel, and won the 1987 Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film. The original short story was written by Karen Blixen (Wikipedia also notes Isak Dinesen, with Blixen in parentheses - I'm going with the name in the credits), who also wrote the (oddly) familiar Out of Africa. I don't think I've seen it, but I've sure heard of it.
It occurs to me as I begin this post that I don't know exactly what I'm reviewing for. I'm tempted to just start with numbers, because they're much easier to spout, but that's not real criticism, so in spite of my temptation to award the thing "Four and a Half Jesuses," I'm going to try to confine the discussion to each film's theological message for me personally.
So the big word of the day is "balance." There's a temptation in Christianity towards "antinomianism," that is, a complete reliance on spirit in the body/spirit divide. We've been having trouble with various sects of this persuasion since slightly after the death of Christ, while at the same time we try to react against the materialist obsessions of the (insert decadent civilization here). Body matters, we want to say, but body is not all. Christ had a body - he also had a meaningful divine spirit.
From my end, Babette's Feast is a classic walking of the line. There is no condemnation of the piety of the community (while at the same time not quite endorsing it), and there's no overt endorsement of the delightful banquet - just a view of the pleasant results. The film seems to imply that there's room for both perspectives in a truly balanced view of the world.
I realize that's pretty surface, but I'm running on empty - I'll see if I have more for you tomorrow.

Film!

So, my class this J-term is "Theology in Film." I am the screener for the class, (I'm getting paid anytime there's a movie on, I think), and I get to watch a ton of movies, none of which I've ever seen before. Can't beat that with a stick.

So, this is my film review blog for the whole month of January. Expect multiplicities of posts! Scads of content! Ponies! Links! Ideas! Criticism out the Wazzoo From Which Criticism Should Not Come!

As a special bonus, the inhabitants of the House of Calamitous Intent have requested a movie outside of my class syllabus - I expect to oblige them on the second weekend of term. The Barkeep has been solicited for a further one - does anyone else have any theological film review requests? If you want me to talk about the place or treatment of God in a cinematic expression (including TV episodes), your wish is my command. I'm jazzed, you see.

So - that's the plan, starting tomorrow night, probably during my second viewing of Babbette's Feast.

(I might have lied about the ponies)

Finis Incepti

The beginning is over. Just had my last class in my first long term at Princeton. A lot has happened in the last three months (my stars, has it really only been three months?). Since this post is, at least in part, for the benefit of my session, it'll be fairly full, but now's the time for good review. While it's still, y'know. Fresh.

On all of my class evaluations, they asked what the most important single thing you learned from the class was. I thought it was a great question, so I'm going to spend some time elaborating on the answers here, and hoping that that answers any questions you may have about the classes.

Systematic Theology: "Theology is a science of mysterious tensions." I wrote that on this blog a while back, and it keeps rattling around in my head. Theology - an argument or study of God. Science - a system of knowledge. Mysterious - as opposed to logos, impenetrable truth; knowledge that surpasses rational understanding. Tensions - a dynamic state existing between two bodies, in this case, two facts. A couple of quotations and thoughts to illustrate this point:

"God is light, but God is unlike any light that we know." - Irenaeus

"...one and the same Christ, Son, Lord, Only-begotten, recognized in two natures, without confusion, without change, without division, without separation..." - Definition of the Council of Chalcedon

And the like. Over and over. To understand truly the doctrines of the early church, we must hold in dynamic tension many of the fundamentals of our faith. God is three. God is one. Yes.

Pastorally, I think this will show up in the moments when it's needed. In times when someone is considering an ill choice, it may be best to talk about human free will. In the passing of a loved one, it may be best to discuss God's providential plan. It sounds ludicrous, but it's how we must live our faith, in the space between the truths that God has revealed to us.

Theology of John Calvin: "Context matters - especially for theologians." I talked about this, too, in a previous post. Calvin's current context deeply affected his theology - predestination, the eucharist, church structure, all were set up in reaction against the excesses (perceived and real) of Rome. (Increasingly, by the way, I'd like to sit down with some Catholic friends of mine again and dig into why we disagree). So, how does my context as a theologian affect my theology? I'm very conscious of my American-ness when I talk to the Korean and Malawian fellows in my Calvin precept. Their theology has been shaped by their contexts - so has mine. How? How as a pastor can I faithfully respond to my own background in the proclamation of the gospel?

Introduction to the Old Testament: "Scripture is changed profoundly by the lens through which we look at it, and is itself our own lens for looking at the world." Disclaimer: I believe that the Holy Scriptures, as they are received and affirmed by the councils of the church and the great reformers, are the divinely inspired and authoritative Word of God. However, I also believe that humans are weak and error-prone vessels, whose understanding of the scriptures will always be imperfect, not because of any fault of scripture, but because of the faults of finite beings. We all bring preconceptions and assumptions to our readings of the Bible that we cannot escape. But, through careful study, consideration, deliberation, and prayer, we can come to an understanding of the positions of other wise interpreters, both modern and ancient, and to some sort of consensus about how Scripture must be read.

Introduction to Speech/Communication: "God has given you gifts - be sure you keep working on them. Don't let the important ones slide." Not too much more to say on that one. It's a really fun class - I'm looking forward, always, to more guidance about how to be an effective speaker.

So - that's the academic story. For the more personal side of life...well...come back tomorrow. I have to leave work quite soon.

PS - http://twitter.com/evangelius

What I Learned This Week, Vol. II

Phew...

So, Systematic Theology was the doctrine of the Trinity. And what do you say about that? I think I mentioned this, but at a certain point you have to just say, "Yes, the Trinity. Three in one. One in three. There it is," and move on, or you will make yourself crazy.

BUT

My Calvin class gave me the most interesting revelation, both about Calvin himself and, more broadly, about the value of considering audience in literary analysis. Professor McKee has been hammering at this, but she finally got it through to me on Thursday of this last week. I can some up the point in these few words.

Calvin didn't know anyone who wasn't Christian.

Calvin was never writing to a secular world. He was never writing to a non-Christian world. With the notable exception of reaching to the Roman church, he was never, ever, an apologist. That just was not in his conception. Ever and always, his concern was for his flock.

For that reason, the doctrine of predestination makes sense. It doesn't have to be defended to non-Christians. Except for some Jews, there aren't any around in Calvin's world. And, as a method of reassuring a population that was always in doubt about the surety of its salvation, Calvin's predestination is spot on the money - you needn't worry about your soul, you are of the elect, and so you're fine. Focus on your work, then, on God's work, and don't worry yourself about your hope of heaven - it is sure (this of course is later replaced by anxiety over how to know whether or not you are of the elect - but that's a different blog post).

That extends out even farther. If we consider the audience of any text, and especially any theological text, we will see that there is an impact of intention. A sermon to a congregation will say different things than a letter to a prisoner. But fundamentally, the message must always be the same - the story of Christ resurrected, and the remission of our sins.

Theology is a science of mysterious tensions. God is three. God is one. Christ is God. Christ is a man. God foreknows all things. God has made us in his image, to be like Him. All these statements are equally true in Christian thinking, but they seem contradictory. To be faithful theologians means explicating them all in different ways and at different times. But reading any theologian, it is absolutely worth our time to investigate their intended audience, to see what their emphases are.

...

Other than that, things are good! Next week is shaping up to be the doctrine of election and Joshua. Good times.

What I've learned in the past week, Vol 1

THEOLOGY ALERT THEOLOGY ALERT

I'll try and warn those of you less interested in the business-side of what I'm doing slightly before I talk about it.

1) So, apparently, according to tradition, the Pentateuch (first five books of the Bible) were written by Moses. This opinion had not formed a central part of my thinking, so I was not much dismayed when I discovered that modern biblical scholarship posits no fewer than four (and possibly more) different sources for the text we now have. I'll offer my little piece of proof - compare the creation narratives in Gen. 1 and Gen 2 - the sharp contrast between THE LORD who speaks creation into existence, and the God who plants a garden and sews clothing for his creations. This hasn't created a particular theological problem for me - it's been pretty darned interesting, though.

2) What can we know about God? And how? Can we see Him in creation? If we can see Him in creation, how does that fit into our issue of true knowledge of God coming from scripture? In essence, I'm going to have to side with Calvin on this.

For as the aged, or those whose sight is defective, when any book however fair, is set before them, though they perceive that there is something written are scarcely able to make out two consecutive words, but, when aided by glasses, begin to read distinctly, so Scripture, gathering together the impressions of Deity, which, till then, lay confused in our minds, dissipates the darkness, and shows us the true God clearly. Calvin, John; Institutes of the Christian Religion I.vi.1

I find this image most powerful if I imagine not a book, but a light that is invisible outside of the use of this lens. Put the glasses on, and you see the light everywhere you look - at the world around you, or graven on your own heart. But the Scriptures reveal the light - they are not the light. Or, if you're of a certain age, do you remember using a sheet of red plastic to find the hidden text in an old hint book? Get a filter of the right color (Scripture) and you can see God's hidden text all over the place. But, again, the text is visible through the filter - it is not the same thing as the filter. That one breaks down a bit more - one of the brightest sources of knowledge of God is in Scripture, but the base point that I want to underline here, the heresy I feel especially called to speak against, is that Scripture is not God. God is found in Scripture and in the world of our own experience, both internal and external, through Scripture, but God is not the Scriptures. Equate the two, and you have set up an idol in the form of a book. 'Ware.

Next week, the trinity and the later Pentateuch!

The Egyptians had it coming

So, I'm reading in my early church history (which I highly recommend) about how there's a phrase for stealing ideas from the pagans, Plato et al...they call it "despoiling the Egyptians." I then came across a part where the Protestant Reformers (my dear theological ancestors, the occasional thickheads) rejected many of the religious practices of the Roman Catholic west were adopted from local (pagan) religious practices.

Does it occur to anyone else that the Egyptians have some nice stuff? I happen to really enjoy various forms of pagan music, in which I include Audioslave, for a certainty, and very possibly Coldplay. Can I, as a faithful man, sing "I Am the Highway" or "Sparks" with God in mind, and make them worship for myself, if not for my community?

Christ is the saviour of all. His saving grace affects every person on His Father's blue Earth. The only road to the Father is through Him. But when we sing to him, I don't care if the right words, the words that express how I feel, were written by a drunken, philandering devil-worshipper. I'd be surprised, but God knows precisely what I mean. When Christ is in my mind, even if Black Sabbath puts him there, I'm fairly sure God smiles a little.

The Map Is Not the Territory - the Bible Is Not the World

Bibliomike over at Decently and In Order, my new interwebz addiction, pointed something out to me about the perennial homosexuality debate.

I've said it before, and it is not original with me, but it apparently hasn't been said enough: this has to be determined with theology, not polity

This, of course, sets off neurons firing over in my brain. As a Presbyterian, I find now that I must bow to a truth previously unacknowledged in my own mind. All of our polity, all of our business, has its roots in theology. The Book of Order did not spring fully formed from the forehead of John Knox, or of anyone else. It is a document detailing one church's attempt to make practical sense of our faith. Some of it is common sense - some of it historical tradition, and some of it is scriptural.

The problem is, of course, that there are things that go on now that Scripture flat doesn't cover. The Barkeep and I got into this the other night, as he pointed out that, as a Presbyterian and a Protestant, I confess sola scriptura. This makes me nervous from time to time, since I know some Christians who want to turn that into sola scriptura, non mundus.

I've heard a lot of words thrown around to describe the Bible. Inerrant, inspired, (never revealed, thank Him), divine, etc. I know some people take that to mean that the Bible overwhelms every other experience that we can describe. I'm nervous about that.

The language that seems to make most sense to me about the Bible is that of the guidebook, the owner's manual - or best of all, the map. Completely free from error - nothing on the map is wrong. The lands of Sin are clearly delineated, the wastes of the human soul, and the oases of Life are all marked down.

But an elemental truth awaits those who lift the text too high. The map is not the territory. The file is not the man. The Bible is not the world. We can't use the Scriptures to cover our eyes, denying the realities in front of us. The map is free from error, but it doesn't describe the whole of the earth beneath our feet. There are fossils down there on which the bible is silent. Are we to pretend that they don't exist?

We were put on this earth, with our living road map, to explore and discover, to worship and seek, and to love one another. God made the map, and he made the world. I don't know about anyone else, but I'd like to use them both as they were intended, and not make them into something they're not.

Princeton Application Essay, future of the church.

More from the Princeton Application.

In one paragraph, state your hopes and concerns regarding the church and its mission.

As I read the writers of my age, talking about their faith and the calls of God in their lives, I am perpetually struck by the divisions between us as a united Church. From the right I hear of righteousness, and of family, and from the left I hear of freedom, and compassion. All these are values I hold dear. So, when I think of the church, my hopes and concerns, I am driven to point us at the only thing that truly matters, and the only path. Christ must be our center, both the road and the end of the road, and centuries of philosophy and theology have taught us that the best paths to virtue are paths of balance. We must, while flying to Christ like an arrow to the target, strive to find a balance, not so that we all agree, but so that we can love each other, as Christ has called us to do.

Today

Today I won life. Like all good games, you want to keep playing after you "win," and so the game becomes a series of victories, but today was clearly game point to the Good guys in the old tennis match of Humanism versus Christianity. The score stands, as it has for some time, at Humanism - 1,343,789,021, Christianity - ∞ .

I've been working for about a month on energy and economics. It seemed to me that there the problem lies, and that if we could solve the problems of energy and economics - the gathering of energy and the distribution of energy benefits - we could cinch the whole thing up tight! No one is hungry - no one wants - all is available - all is well.

Of course, to put that together, every human being would have to contribute to energy gathering and energy distribution - a sort of communism, if you will. Which happens to require universal participation.

This typically initiates my "gnash" reflex, but for some reason today...I just realized that it isn't going to work. All the effort and expense and Brownian motion of mankind - it's not efficient enough. The goal of humanism, futurism, communism, etc., is a closed system. The perpetual motion machine, perfectly efficient. And all these little "ism"s claim to be a path to a Perpetual Motion Mankind, provided everyone pulls together and puts their back into it.

Ben Bova, in his book Mars, talks about thermodynamics in a lovely homespun way. "You can't win, you can't break even, and you can't get out of the game." And where two or three humans are gathered for any reason, there is disagreement. Which then magnifies into dischord and strife. War. So, all the isms are fundamentally flawed - too much grit in the works, too much friction in the universe.

What we need, then, I reasoned, is something to believe in, a solution, which doesn't require universal human participation. Something that get us through the grinding ill, but doesn't need everyone's signature.

I started off pointing to religions in general - the Barkeep most rightly pointed out that Judaism and Islam may be exempted, the one promising reward only to a chosen people, the other's utopia requiring the religious conquest of the world. But, of the big five, Christianity, Hinduism, and Buddhism all have that vast uncaring about what others do.

In essence, as I told the Barkeep, I needed to remind myself that I was a Christian first and a humanist second. I have a lot of good humanist stuff - I like what we're about. But Christ is the centre. There can be no other path.

So, Sugarbutt! That for your futurism! Let's watch, and see who wins.

Erro, errare, erravi, erratus

This will not be the best-connected post in the history of blog.

I have an awful lot of tags. I felt bad about this until I realized that I had an awful lot of things I talked about. I consider eclecticism no more a sin then asceticism, and so, will carry on ballooning the wealth of tags at my disposal.

At some point I would like to re-do the style sheet for this page, and that may well be today. I like this initial style, but everyone does have it, and over-familiarity (as well you all know) breeds despite.

I understand more fully now than ever before in my life the scourge of poverty. It's not bad because some people have plenty and some live in want. That's a good objective measure for poverty, but I think JK Rowling says it best.

Probably the very best thing my earnings have given me, though, is absence of worry. I have not forgotten what it feels like to worry whether you'll have enough money to pay the bills. Not to have to think about that any more is the biggest luxury in the world.

I think one could extend that even further for true poverty. If you want to talk about the great tragedy of being poor (whose depths I have not nearly plumbed, and hope to avoid), I suspect that it is, above all, that of wasted potential. Surviving does not permit for thought beyond oneself and loved ones. Living lets you think about the plight of the world. When I worry about my job in a few weeks, and about what I shall eat and where I shall sleep (and yes, I am trying to keep Christ's words in front of me. What I wear is a matter of some indifference to me - food is rather a more important consideration), I cannot divide myself away from my immediate circle. Me, Penelope, the Barkeep, Sugarbutt, the Alchemist, the Hero and a few others I can consider and work with/for...everyone else seems to fall by the wayside. I wonder if, in Africa and Southeast Asia, in South America, if the social problems stem from that narrowness of circle, the refusal to open up to those outside, because of the need to survive.

It's not fully developed, I know, and me talking about poverty is Solomon bemoaning penury to a Nigerian slum-dweller. I will not swear, but I would that I could, if not redress the balance, than at least find a method for every person to live, truly live, rather than just survive. I think that life in Christ must be a part of that, but even Christ fed his people. When did Christ take an offering? Christ gave an offering, was an offering.

Now I have visions of being a pastor, of distributing bread, and meat, and water to all who come and ask, every Sunday, before worship. A glorious hope.

So. I have wandered a bit, as well I should from time to time. I'll be in touch.

Peace.

Unsettled

We should all be unsettled every once in a while. We should read something that throws us for a loop. If not, why bother? Why assault the world?
And I quote:

The most that religion can accomplish is to provide a crutch for the weak or lazy-minded to absolve guilt or to negate inquiry, and to serve as justification for the exercise of baser instincts like aggression, territoriality, ethnic cleansing, bigotry, or sociopathic perversions.

I think that of the many flaws here, the one that jumps out most is the complete misunderstanding of a) absolution and b) Christ. Has our author (about whose anonymity I should be angrier, I think), ever read a gospel? Any gospel, I don't care which. I do not find my Christian walk a justification for the exercise of ANY of those things - in fact, I find in the words of the Savior condemnation for them all.
And further:

Christians absolve themselves of guilt by proclaiming that their God was a man in mortal form who died for the "sins of humanity." This is all well and good, but what exactly are the sins of humanity?

Christianity does not examine what the sins are, choosing to ignore them. But having had Christ die to have these vaguely defined sins forgiven, Christians have continued to wage war on both humanity and nature for two thousand years. Christianity brilliantly fabricated a belief system to forgive all transgressions thereby absolving the human conscience of blame for tribalistic expansion. The genocide of the American Indian was justified and rationalized because these were unbelievers who had sinned by not believing in a Middle Eastern thunder god.

Our author has clearly never met a Catholic. Yes. Absolutely. I find myself examining (and confessing) my own sins on a daily basis, including and especially my sins against my planet, and my fellow Earthlings. I bring me to mind an episode of South Park when everyone claims responsibility for the actions of a few.
My real problem: I am a Christian humanist. I believe in the positive power of mankind. I believe that we can make a difference, to one another and to the world. We can only do that, however, when we recognize our hunger for the infinite. The author accuses religion of failure, because we try to describe the infinite in terms of the finite. Yet, she/he/it hopes that we will tap into that very same infinite for a religion of peace and harmony with life. We cannot escape the infinite - it will hunt us down. Better to claim the infinite as what it truly is - a Creator and giver of love, as unlike a man as can be while still being the font of love, than think of life, the tiniest mass of the tiniest mass of a single planet, as the be-all and end-all of the universe.
So, dear readers; love your planet - love your God. Love each other. The hour is coming when we will need each other as we need to breathe.

Postgap and ecclesiology

So it's been plenty long since last I posted. Thought this would end up being one thing - I failed, signally. Maybe now that it's not a class assignment I"ll actually work it from time to time.

Anyway, I just got into a good one with Sister Mary [who is peacing (peaceing? Blasted made-up words) for points Southwest tomorrow] and had one thought re: transubstantiation that I wanted to share with the vulgar.

"I think we're getting bogged down in what's dragging Sugarbutt through the mire, and maybe that's a mistake of my phrasing. What concerns me is less what is right, and more what is true. With transubstantiation, that's probably as true as anything. The difference between "it's a symbol" and "it's the physical thing" is less important to me than the truth that in the participation in the Eucharist, we are truly eating Christ's flesh, drinking Christ's blood. Any Protestant who tries to shy away from the reality of eating and drinking Christ by hiding behind "it's a symbol" is blaspheming, to my mind - the purpose of the symbol is to make the object truer than it could ever be in reality. From a scientific standpoint, though there's a lot of allowance I can make for miracles, it's tough for me to reconcile a physical transubstantiation. That said, I believe that, whatever the physical nature of the thing in my mouth, I am truly eating the flesh, drinking the blood of Christ.
Apply as needed - I think the church is, in truth, more united than people have ever known, could ever know. I think the words of Augustine echo with me as truly as those of Calvin. Right and wrong are, as you say the concepts of legality. It's possible to be wrong and untrue, but it's also possible to be wrong and true, by any measurable standard - see miracles."

So that's a chunk of recent thought. In coming weeks, perhaps, a theology of the physical, long-running enough now to be my problem of the year.

Argumenta

My head spinneth, having been moved by an unmoved mover. I read the Anselm because, you know, I was interested, and...why not?

It's interesting to me that the proposition seems to hang on the issue of things being impossible. This leads to this leads to this which can't be true - it's obviously impossible. We seem to set about saying that the root of all philosophy is in eliminating contradictions.

I'm not saying that contradictions are necessarily good, but I'm not saying they're necessarily bad, either.

"And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare,"

or

"I hate and I love - why I cannot say.
But it is so, and I am in torment."

That's human life - there are contradictions, paradoxes, things that don't make sense. I understand the philosophical drive to combat contradiction and impossibility, but every once in a while, I suspect that a logical impossibility captures the essence of a thing much better than any book of sensical descriptions ever could.

Which may, of course, be why I believe in God. God is not a good explanation for the contradictions, and He contradicts a good few things by his existence, but He does say: mystery is necessary and good. Theologize, but don't get so caught up in thinking about Me that you forget what you and I are up to. We have work to do, you see.

And I'm down with that.

Veritas non posse scire

So this is my elemental criticism of Martin, that he thinks it's possible to understand unknowable truth in logical terms. I was reading, there, thinking that he might endeavor next to explain Shakespeare or Coleridge in logical terms. It's worth our while, certainly, to try and interpret poetry, and religious experience. I would be beyond foolish to deny it.

But he accuses mystics of attempting to explain the ineffable, and calls their definitions and distinctions internally inconsistent, if not paradoxical and contradictory

My skills at simile fail me entirely! It's...it's explaining purple to the blind, explicating the clarinet to the deaf! Brain surgery!

The reality we're endeavoring to discuss is clearly not the reality with which we deal on a daily basis. There is no reason why it should necessarily play by our rules, by any stretch of the imagination. There's no reason why it shouldn't, either, which is his purpose in his negative principle of credulity, but just because our language and thought are presented with a universe we can't explain is no reason to stop trying.

My favorite accusation, and I use that word with care, is when he goes after mystics for saying something can't be explained, and then trying so to explain.

He's missing, of course, the human drive to try. Just because something is indefinable doesn't absolve us of the responsibility to make the attempt. Those of us blessed with religious experience and with liberal arts educations should endeavor to give every account that we can, until reason breaks down and faith alone remains.

I'm not saying that we shouldn't always be trying to reason further, but a world entirely run on logos ends with the darkest visions of Huxley, Orwell, Bradbury and Plato (if you don't think Republic is Dystopian literature, you need to take a careful re-examination of your life).
You need mythos, and philos, and eros, and all those messy human desires, emotions and stories for mankind to maintain its humanity.

Bah! Silly people with your desire for a fully explicable universe!

Fall?

Troubling reading, very troubling. I like much about it - I'm very inclined to agree, at least that there has historically been a progression of moral and ethical development. Moses knew more than Abraham - Jesus knew more than Moses. This is the only explanation for the "change" in the character of the Deity from the Old to the New Testament (or the only explanation I'm willing to accept, perhaps).

My problem with't is twofold. I have trouble chucking the Fall with the ease of Iranaeus and guy (guy's name escapes me). It's very textual, and it's a significantly better explanation for the existence of Satan than the (non-)explanation that is offered. Satan (and the Fall) are in the text...this thing isn't in the originals, as Iranaeus thought it was, and text, even if it tells us things implicitly, is still the source of Christian faith. I have to hunt a bit, before I can give that any credence.

I'm also inclined to agree that his vision requires global salvation. Again, there are some pretty firm textual precedents to say that this couldn't be true, at least from a classical Christian perspective. Thick and troubling, in truth.

That said...it's appealing. I'd like to think that all are saved, and have no real emotion one way or the other as regards the Fall...just pretty standard textual uneasiness. We'll keep wrestling, but I don't think my answer lies here.

Why they gots to be after my God?

So, not the same evening. I lied.

Then shining Siderus, the man of bronze,
Replied in cold, metallic, winged words.
"Imagine, then, this justice for our God:
That he should for one soul this ill create.
We know the long-lost lightborne star to be
An angel fallen, once-knight of the Throne.
On seventh day, he faces all that is,
The scope of grand creation, shining suns,
Aetherial voids and wide, terrestial orbs,
All things most worthy of his praise and awe.
But in his heart he finds a deeper space,
A vacuum where the Word of God is null.
Thus Satan, questing in unfriendly dark,
Found in himself unLove, unLife, unGod.
This done, he turned his aspect from the Throne.
Th'eternal Deity, though, struck accord,
That th'Accuser, as he now was styled,
Should have his chance to prove the worth of ill.

That's all I have for this, and I'm not sure yet if I will maintain the perspective. I like it from a story perspective (it may well remain in the Epic. Incidentally, the poetry you've reading is from a work-in-progress called Dux Argens, the Silver Duke. Who knew my epic would end up this didactic? That said, this piece is from a book, yet unnumbered, which may contain the Pilgrim's Congress), but I'm not positive that it's my final solution - I think there's something more to be said. We'll track it down yet.

It's an odd confluence, but what do you say to a man who desires that you should abandon the things you hold dearest, and believe with greatest hope? Who would have you give up faith? I can accept with equanimity the failure of his belief - I can even applaud his conviction. But I cannot be what he wants me to be, believe what he wants me to believe, even as I face the questions that concern him most in this course.

All that said, I'm sure I'll find an answer - else what am I here for?

Responding to Augustine - the beast defeated

…within his grasp, the hated creature’s head.
This loathsome load he cast before the throne,
Availing heart and soul of burd’ning words.
“You kings and princes, ministers of worlds,
Look well upon this shattered, bestial cap,
And speak to me of evil’s whelming floods.
I have beheld the weary eyes of sin,
Have gazed on fuming demons and their looks,
But stand here, bold, triumphant ‘gainst their wiles,
Not through my petty strengths, but God’s own will.
Yet still you ask how God could make such pain.
I claim to you the victory of love;
I sing the triumph of my mighty Lord.
For love’s sake will I grant the mystery,
For love alone can make life’s tortures joy.”
The kings and princes, ministers of worlds
Looked down on hated foe, defeated, pale,
With all the chit’nous beetles shine and hate,
Withdrawing, then, they whispered Argent’s fate.

This I wrote just after reading an excerpt of St. Augustine's Confessions. I have been (and am still) arguing with a friend regarding the existence of God (this post goes out to you, Sugarbutt). He has a fair point, that the logic must drive us towards the non-existence of God in the face of evil. I, however, am, in the face of that traitorous lady, logic, still opposed.

It seems to me that for the sake of love, which I accept as the very highest of naturae (essences), and which is, in its essence, mysterious, we must be willing to accept a little mystery in our universe. I believe in the love of a deity for his people. That love is a mystery. Why there is evil in the creation of a loving God must also be a mystery - else coldest logic wins and heaven is dead.

More to come - probably this evening.