Monday, July 29, 2024

Rebuilding Bridges (Theology of Crisis)

 Rebuilding Bridges (Theology of Crisis)

Augustine, Simone Weil and me


Scriptures: 1 Samuel 3:1-11 and Ezra 3:10-13

          In the book of Samuel, we get to read about Samuel, the last Judge of Israel, who almost functions as a King. He is a bridge figure between two worlds, two ways of being Israel. The story of his life reflects the crisis of this transition.

Before Samuel, Israelite society was decentralized. According to the book of Judges the 12 tribes govern themselves—they were semi-autonomous, other than in times of crisis, when God sends a charismatic individual to unite the tribes and deal with the threat. Likewise, worship is done locally, and strange bands of prophets wander the land doing mighty and surprising deeds.

After Samuel his society is centralized. Like other nations the Israelites are ruled by a dynastic king. The government and temple are located in Jerusalem, and prophets largely cease their wandering and instead serve in the king’s court.

The book of Ezra tells of another crisis in the life of God’s people. They were freed from Exile in Babylon, and given funds to rebuild the temple. And they do. It is a glorious thing—the younger returners have dreamed of this day their whole lives. The aged returners have done so too, but they remember what once was.

The rebuilding of the temple is both a thing of joy, and a sorrowful event. Such a clamor, weeping and huzzahs intermingled. Shouts of, “Is this it? Shouldn’t it be better? Don’t you remember the good old days?” as well as, “Finally, what we’ve been waiting for! It is here, God will be present with us again; God’s glory among us!”

Imagine, in both of these times of crisis and transition, how folk had to re-think everything. Not only that, they had to live differently, imagine in new ways, and dream sacred dreams like never before! Times of crisis can be the most fruitful and faithful, because the only other option is failure.

 

St. Augustine—City of God

          Once the eyes of Rome fell upon the Christian faith, persecutions, be they led by Emperors or neighbors with pitchforks, began. The Faith hid and struggled and did what it could to survive. Then along came Emperor Constantine, who first made Christianity a legal religion within the Roman Empire, then the preferred religion of the Empire, and finally THE religion of the Empire.

This was a heady time for the Faith, going from outsider to insider, persecuted to persecutor, all in relatively short order. Such a reversal could only be ascribed to the Holy Spirit. “Could,” these Christians wondered, “this be the reign of God Jesus describes in those parables? Great reversals are surely a sign of resurrection and new life!”

 “Could,” they wondered within a generation of their acceptance and ascendancy, “the Roman Empire and the Kingdom of God be one in the same? Could the Kingdom be a literal kingdom, not an experience to be noticed and savored, a framing to help us discern the Spirit at work, but instead a particular government, a particular secular patron turned sacred? Being a good Roman Citizen and being a Citizen of the Kingdom of God are one in the same!” they concluded.

And then, in the year 410 of the Common Era, Rome itself, the heart of this new Kingdom of God, was sacked. “Oh no! If Rome fell, does that mean God has failed? What do we do now?”

After a decade and a half of reflection, Augustine, a Bishop in the hinterlands of the Empire, Hippo, North Africa, wrote a response. In a thick book titled The City of God he answered the question, “Did the Kingdom of God fail?” He unraveled what had become ungainly wound, the distinction between the City of Rome and the City of God, secular citizenship and being a Christian.

To this day City of God, written in response to such a crisis, informs not only Christian theology, but also political philosophy and theories of the mind. When you have to rethink everything from the root, every branch blooms afresh!

 

Simone Weil—The Need for Roots

          Another such crisis was that of Europe after the Second World War. Simone Weil, a French Christian Mystic, considered the crisis of confidence in her home country of France, as well as the continent as a whole. She noted how quickly France fell to the Nazis, and how German fell under the sway of fascism so easily. She felt those events were two sides of the same coin. Both were symptoms of a similar demoralization and lostness that pervaded Europe. If those were all symptoms, the disease was rootlessness. The bulk of the European continent had been uprooted from any semblance of tradition or family or nation or much of anything else. Industrialization and urbanization were the Petri dishes in which totalitarianism and demoralization grew.

          And this would have simply been an interesting assessment, save that Charles DeGaulle was working on a new constitution for France, and he asked Weil to not just diagnosis the disease, but also offer a cure. Weil threw herself into this project and offered the following:

Reinvigorate Local French Cultures—Part of why France failed to fight, Weil surmised, was that they were being told to fight for Parisian values, yet they were not Parisian; at the same time, they had been discouraged from identifying with their regional culture for so long they no longer identified with it either. For generations they had been encouraged to throw off their local culture, but were still looked down upon as parochial in their attempts at assimilation, and therefore they were left rootless. So, Weil saw the way forward to be a celebration of local French culture alongside the Parisian mainstream.

Choose to Decolonize Africa and Asia—To lose a colony is to be humiliated, to create more men pining and valorizing the past, to root themselves in domination and oppression. To free your own colonies is to be on the right-er side of history, to give your people something positive to celebrate now.

Create decentralized and contextual education—If factory work in cities creates alienated and broken men who won’t fight for their nation, or alternatively will be attracted to strong men, teach non-factory work. Teach, too, local cultures so every French-person has something to be proud of, be they in the center or at the periphery.

Decentralize manufacturing and give workers incentives to work—Again, if the majority rushing to one or two manufacturing hubs leaves the urban folk feeling squished and atomized and the rural folk feeling abandoned, shift how manufacturing operates. Sure, things might be a tish less efficient, but if that reinvigorates the spirit and pushes away fascist tendencies, it is worth it. For that matter, meaningful work gives people dignity and a sense of purpose, so prioritizing that over idleness, even when it is inefficient, is worthwhile.

Have fact checkers for everything—One of the horrifying things about totalitarianism that Weil noticed was how ruthlessly truth gets mugged. For that reason, France ought to fight against disinformation at every turn.

Redefine Patriotism as that which can be lost… a Politics of the Cross (like Theology of the Cross)—The lines between patriotism and nationalism were easily blurred and many of the finer details of a national life, not to mention the little people, can be easily lost in the shuffle. For that matter, so much of the totalitarian vision involves false nostalgia and promises of an impossible future. Part of a healthy patriotism is seeing the good that is actually present, and preserving it.

Redefine French Identity as a people for humanity—So much of nationalism is defining who a people are not. I am German not Polish, French not Spanish or Algerian. Weil flips that on its head, what if the French identity is defined by inclusion and solidarity with all people?

 

Pastor Chris—The Four D’s

          That brings us to our present crisis, the crisis of the North American Church. If the statisticians are right, the mainline tradition (denomination churches associated with the European Protestant tradition who have structures in place to weed out bad actors and hold people to account. I serve in the ELCA, a hub of the Mainline tradition.) will cease to exist in about a decade.

          I’m just one guy, certainly not a mystic like Weil or a Genius-Saint like Augustine, but I think I occasionally can see things clearly, and this is my assessment.

In the present crisis, the mainline tradition is failing because it is not grappling with the four Ds: Disestablishment, Decentralization, Demographic Shift, and most importantly, Disenchantment.

 

Disestablishment:

          When the Baltimore Colts were a team, or so I’ve heard, they were only allowed to play football after a certain time on Sunday, on order of the Archbishop of Baltimore. Then when Baltimore got a new team, the Baltimore Ravens, the Archbishop went to the owner of the team to schedule when the team could play on Sundays, and he was gently shown the door.

          As the above story illustrates, something has fundamentally shifted in how American society treats Christianity. While America has never had an official state religion, we have often informally acted in ways that centered the Christian faith. This is an insight Theologian Douglas John Hall has famously pointed out in his own country, Canada. There were once a host of cultural norms that assisted the church, and the church has grown to rely on them. In fact, often the Church returned the favor, teaching American cultural values instead of the gospel. As long as the Church was vaguely “nice” a bunch of social organizations would help it out.

          For a variety of reasons (Bowling Alone dynamics, the end of the Cold War and the rise of the War on Terror, etc.) that reality came to an end. Some in the Church are desperately trying to claw our way back into the halls of power, others despair. I would suggest the whole situation is an opportunity.

We can now reconsider all those formal and informal cultural connections and start again. The Church has been given an opportunity to rethink how we make partnerships. One of the places doing this sort of work, at least on a building use level, is Partners for Sacred Places in Philly. The Mainline needs to intentionally remake connections with new partners. We need to re-imagine our place in society and find where the Holy Spirit is already acting in our neighborhoods!

 

Decentralization:

          Once, or so I have been told, the world was centralized. Everyone received news from a single trusted newscaster, desks in schools all faced forward looking at a teacher, organizations were very hierarchical, a top-down kind of thing. The Church too functioned in this way, top down, facing forward in your pews, trusting the Pastor as the authority on the Faith. And this all worked quite swimmingly, at least for a time.

          Now everyone gets their news from information silos, classrooms are modular and virtual, and organizations are taught to value decentralized, democratic, “leaderless” leadership, as most clearly articulated by the book The Starfish and the Spider. And probably most noticeable, the internet has flattened the world.

          And the Church has changed, some. The ELCA constitution uplifts lay leadership and democratic principles in a way predecessor bodies did not. When Covid came around we managed to get most of our congregations onto the internet. But we’re still struggling with this.

I can’t help but think of a very confused Roman Catholic who attended my congregation for a time. He had discovered from some amalgamation of the “History” Channel and chat rooms on the internet that the difference between Protestants and Catholics was that Protestants acknowledged that the Apostle Paul was a werewolf (that was the thorn in his flesh). When I burst his bubble, he wasn’t fazed. He decided I was an authority figure who was hiding “the Truth.” Then he started attending an “Entrepreneurial” Church down the street where the Pastor agreed that mainline Churches often hide things from “the people.”

So, what do we do in a flat, leaderless, democratic, virtual, world? We harness it. We recognize that 12 disciples, inspired by the testimony of Mary and her crew, and empowered by the Holy Spirit, changed the world. “Oh no, we have small churches” can be transformed into “Wow, we have small teams of empowered people excited to be the Church in the world!”

Imagine if we took seriously the Church’s duty to equip and encourage lay folks! Imagine if we embraced holy experimentation, every congregation had a solid and sustainable internet ministry, and we met out in the world, becoming seeds thrown out into the world doing Kin(g)dom work!

 

Demographics:

The ELCA, and many Mainline denominations, identify as white and middle class. And there was a time when that seemed to serve us well. After the world wars European refugees poured into our country looking for Churches where they could belong and become American at a pace that was comfortable. In the heyday of the Mainline, middle-class jobs paid well and offered opportunities for women not to work. This meant congregations had access to funds and volunteer hours.

To be clear the above description was never that neat, just talk to old timers, especially the women and immigrants, or talk to non-white Lutherans, they have a whole different story to tell. But, granting the above story, it didn’t last.

On one hand, immigration from traditionally Lutheran countries tapered off. On the other, being middle class shifted. Those who think of themselves as Middle Class are now time poor, and financially poorer, than early generations, just read Reich, or Steve Bannon, for that matter. Hence new members aren’t beating down the doors, there are fewer volunteers, and donations are down.

          Luckily what is a “traditionally” Lutheran country has changed. Ethiopia has the second largest Lutheran population in the world, followed by Tanzania. For that matter, Guyana has a thriving Lutheran tradition, and if you’ve ever been to a Guyanese wedding, the first thing you notice is how racially diverse the country is. So, I tell folk, invite anyone who looks Guyanese to Church, because that’s a way of saying, invite everyone! Throw away those preconceived notions of what a Lutheran looks like!

For that matter, we need to take a hard look at what middle class practices of the past serve us well, and which don’t. And, the impoverishment of the Mainline should refocus us on poverty and point us to how Church is done by impoverished people!

 

Disenchantment:

          Finally, behind all the above there is a larger challenge we face, Disenchantment (this presentation has changed since the first time I gave it, and named only the 3Ds above, then I read Hunting Magic Eels and decided there is a 4th D). Put baldly, maybe badly, the way the average American lives makes it hard to believe in God at all. Our habits and focuses point us to the material and secular things of this world. We have trained ourselves to notice the ball, but miss the gorilla.

          So, what to do? Reenchant the world! Encourage:
Holy Friendships—prayer partners and chancing sharing your faith with others.

The Romance of the Faith—passionate preaching, feeling as well as thinking, encouraging people to reflect on their own faith stories,

Practice Gratitude—reflect on the “roses and thorns” of your day, and give thanks for the roses,

Embracing Beauty—paint murals on churches, reflect on iconography, create new pretty singable music.

 

Conclusion:

          Times of transition and crisis are frightening but can also be times of faithful rethinking. When God’s people find fresh footing, they can do amazing things, they can move forward again.

Augustine’s rethink of the faith has created modes of thought both secular and sacred that still are helpful almost 1700 years later. It is astonishing that a Christian Mystic was so revered (or the crisis was so severe) that a secular government would ask for her advice. Finally, what I see as our own crisis as Church is frightening, but not insurmountable; we just have to faithfully think through where we are at, dream new dreams, and follow the Spirit’s leading.

Monday, July 22, 2024

Bridging the Gap (Race)

 Bridging the Gap (Race)

Isaac Asimov, Howard Thurman and Cornel West

(As an aside I did not teach this lesson this last time around, because Cornel West is running for president, and the Church ought never be a partisan place. If we become the Democratic/Republican/Green/Libertarian Party at prayer, we’ve lost our way.)

 

Scriptures: 2 Kings 17:24-28 and Luke 10:25-37

          The lesson from second Kings is a description of the formation of the group we now call the Samaritans. The Assyrians, who were the big empire of the time, controlled captured populations by transplanting them from one end of the empire to another, thus eliminating any home field advantage or cohesion among the oppressed. In 2nd Kings we see the 10 northern tribes displaced and replaced by this group of non-Israelites. They end up converting to the religion of the land (remember this is an origin story told from the outside) not because they were faithful, but because they were afraid of the local fauna, the lions.

          So, you have these outsiders who convert out of necessity instead of tradition, who grow up parallel to Judaism, who claim the same identity, perhaps even a truer identity (The Samaritan telling of their origin story is that they’re the faithful remnant that didn’t go to Babylon and kept as scripture only the books of Moses, not the paganized additions compiled by the exilic community). At best they are the “black sheep” of the family, the cousin group that isn’t invited to family gatherings. At worst they embody a pre-modern version of the Uncanny Valley—the experience of robots and really good graphics becoming so human-like that their subtle differences freak us out.

          You have these outsiders who were brought to Israel in 722BC, who live among the other Judaisms of the time through the exile in 586BC, through Alexander the Great’s reign in 323BC, through the Maccabean revolt in 160BC, all the way to Jesus’ day, roughly 33AD. So, 755 years of living beside and among mainstream Judaisms, and yet there is still great division and hatred of these outsiders, these others. Progress is not inevitable, changed hearts and reconciliation doesn’t just happen.

In John’s Gospel Jesus is called a Samaritan as an insult, and in Luke’s Gospel and its sequel, Acts, the pivot point that moves the Gospel from Jerusalem out into all the world is the inclusion of the Samaritans. Once the Church is able to take the gospel to Samaria, spreading out into the gentile world seems possible. All the world becomes a neighborhood where the love of God might be shared.

          And Jesus’ most famous stories about who our neighbor is centers the Samaritans. Those you would traditionally expect to act in a neighborly manner, miss the mark, and only the one who is seen as the evil other, the one whose very essence is missing the mark, gets a bull’s eye. The one who acts as neighbor to the man in grave need is a Samaritan.

 

Asimov:

          The famed science fiction author, Isaac Asimov, once penned a very different sort of book, a commentary on the Bible! In his section on the Samaritans, he makes a startling point, if you want to understand how Samaritans were treated in Jesus’ day, just look to how America was treating African Americans in Asimov’s day!

The Samaritans are a people taken from their native land, who adopt the religion of their surroundings for the sake of their safety, and hundreds of years later they are still treated as second-class citizens. If you want to know what that might look like existentially, just look to how America treats African Americans.

After all, their ancestors were taken from their native land, they adopted the Christian faith under the duress of white folk and then took it and made it their own; it is a faith of freedom, hidden away in the hush harbors noting that Moses was a liberator of slaves and Jesus came that we might be free indeed. And despite centuries of being neighbors, black folk are still treated as second class citizens, there are still instances where, “Guess who your neighbor is, him!” would make people feel uncomfortable.

 

Howard Thurman

          Howard Thurman starts his short and powerful book Jesus and the Disinherited with an experience he had in India. In the midst of a conversation with his host there, he was asked, “What are you doing here?” And the host wasn’t meaning, “why are you on a good will tour,” but instead, “why would an educated Black man be Christian, and show up in a non-white country as a representative of the faith.” Surely he knows white Christians lynch their black coreligionists, surely he knows white Christians upheld slavery in the name of the Faith, surely he knows the Christianity is used to justify empires of oppression! To which Thurman responds with his defense of the Faith.

He names Jesus’ life situation as one of a minority in an empire and he insists the Gospel is a tool to resist oppression. For example, embracing humility means the dominant culture can never humiliate you and being rooted in your identity as a Child of God can buffer you from the dehumanizing weight of domination. In a segregated society the church can be one of the few places where culture and race can be crossed in a natural way, and those kind of connections force people to see each other as just that, people, unique individual persons.

And please do not read Thurman as a Pollyanna, he readily acknowledges the oppressions his host points to. For example, his own grandmother, when she learned to read, insists that she would not once read the Apostle Paul, because his letters were the only place in the bible from which the white preacher would preach, “Slaves be obedient to your masters as unto God.”

 

Cornel West

          Cornel West follows in the reading of scripture that Thurman uplifts; Jesus’ place as a minority in an empire has unique resonance for African Americans, and that insight can be expanded out to all of scripture. If the bible is read from that perspective, it is better for everyone. Such a reading keeps oppressive tendencies at bay and encourages everyone to work for a better world. It is a sure defense for all people who are discriminated against, be it based on race, class, gender or sexual orientation.

          A mistake that gets made, West says, is that these insights get translated into economic programs to uplift and protect the least, last, and lost. That’s a start, but not enough. Instead, there ought to be a truly democratic culture.

People’s voice shouldn’t only be heard because they have enough money to shake up the marketplace. No! Society should be shaped in such a way that makes every voice matter, because they matter, not simply because they are an economic unit. The way such a reality might come into existence is a sort of fusion politics—the least, last, and lost banding together across racial and economic, gender and orientation lines to make sure everyone is cared for and heard and treated as a person.

 

A Note about Post-modernity and Race

          One speculation that I’ve heard from a professor I respect very deeply, is that the claims of post-modernity came about as a refusal to fit Black experience into the Grand Narrative of modernity. In other words, rather than integrate the history of the oppressed into the story of modernity, it seemed preferable to sacrifice the grand narrative in total. Naming black suffering as objective fact, measuring the pile of bodies brought about by slavery and segregation, was just too much.

An alternative reading is that post-modernity is that very integration. A critique from the underside, a recognition that what seemed objectively good to enslavers was objectively bad to the enslaved, suggesting an extreme subjectivity to the observer. So many so-called scientific truths, be they measuring skulls or sociologically analyzing temperature zones or tying linguistics to racial superiority, were all fraudulent and done in service of power, not by the power of systematic observation.

 

Conclusion

          Jesus’ parable about a good Samaritan was shocking because Jesus’ society would consider no such thing; the gap between Samaritan and the Mainstream Judaisms of the time was unthinkably deep and wide. Asimov was able to notice a parallel to that gap within his own society.

Thurman didn’t just notice that gap, but lived in that gap and recognized Jesus’ genius to be the free offering of tools to survive the implications of that gap for the oppressed. More than that, he offered personal connection as a way to bridge that gap. West too offers a bridge, a reflection that another gap exists, one between the economic well to do and those of whatever race who are on the other side. Additionally, West’s method of crossing the gap is a society that invites everyone to actively participate in our collective life, flattened non-hierarchical democracy as a method of filling in that gap for good.

Monday, July 15, 2024

Burning Bridges (Post-Modernity)

Burning Bridges (Post-Modernity)

Descarte and John Caputo

 

Scriptures: Matthew 5:1-11 and 1 Corinthians 1:18-31

          What does blessing mean, if it is for the poor? How can mourners and those who are persecuted be blessed? Happy are those, in the most unhappy of plights?

What is wisdom, if it does not see God in the world? What is strength, if it is only used to slam a boot on the messiah’s shoulder? What too is folly or weakness, if it lays flat all that this world holds dear? How does all political and religious might stack up to God on a cross?

Both of these texts short-circuit expectations and give such nuance to words like wisdom and blessed that they make language weird. If you think you have power, you don’t have power. If you think you understand blessing, you don’t understand blessing. The prevailing stories of political might and religious holiness—that the crucified are criminal and those that die upon a cross cursed—aren’t true or God ordained, in light of the God who is revealed to us on the cross.

          Likewise, the post-modern project seeks to weird language, and short-circuit unreflective expectations; it punctures big stories societies tell themselves and looks at the world from its underside.

Legos a Metaphor:

          Legos are amazing. On one hand, they are a really neat way to make a model, be it an airplane or fire house, castle or pirate ship. On the other hand, they are an amazing way to let your imagination go wild, the pieces of a pirate ship can be rearranged and made into an RV or multiple little boats or a cave. For that matter, the firehouse and the castle can be combined in ways that don’t look anything like what’s on the box.

          And those two ways we play with Legos, as model kits and as building blocks for the imagination, are a good way to think about modernity and post-modernity. Modernity would say the building blocks of life fit in a particular way, Post-Modernity would say, “The connection between things is not clear.”

          Just to build out from that model:

-Modernity would say, “I think, therefore I am.” Reality can be ascertained by an individual mind looking at the world and gathering data. Observation is how we build knowledge.

Post-modernity would say, “There are eyes and minds that you can not know.” It would question and “deconstruct” the observations of Modernity.

-Modernity sees Truth as universal and objective.

Post-modernity sees truths as relative and subjective.

-Modernity tries to tell a grand narrative, a big story about the world.

Post-modernity declares, as I stated before and I’ll state again, “The connection between things is not clear,” and so telling a larger story about them is an act of power and will.

 

Descartes:

Rene Descartes lived during the brutal wars of religion in Europe. He wondered, quite sincerely, which Dogma that people are killing one another over, is true? How do you ascertain truth at all?

Eventually he came to a novel solution. Truth comes from an individual mind observing the world. “I think, therefore I am.” Our observations of the world are the starting place for finding truth.

It is from this set of assumptions that the modern world is born. With enough observational power big stories can be told, grand narratives that are universal in scope. The surety of dogma can be replaced with the surety of observation and measurement.

           

Caputo:

          John Caputo is a post-modern theologian who sees the post-modern rallying cry, “The connection between things is not clear!” as one deeply in line with the Christian faith.

In fact, for Caputo, deconstruction—taking apart the Lego model and wondering if the pieces could be put together differently; noticing the ways that the choices that went into the construction were not done in a dispassionate and objective manner, but indeed were filled with biases and passions—is an act of idol smashing. Any story, Caputo would say, that is big enough to be totalizing, is also big enough to be an act of idolatry.

Caputo’s ultimate example of deconstruction is the cross. God is executed by our big totalizing ideas. God is executed, and when you realize that’s the case, everything else in this world, the way we’ve fashioned the world that allows for our killing of God incarnate, is suspect, is fair game to be questioned, called out as subjective and relative, unmasked as acts of power and will. If the powers of observation can’t see God at work in the world, perhaps they can’t apprehend a universal truth as well as they would claim.

 

Conclusion:

          There is a chasm between the modern world and the post-modern world. It seems that once you cross that chasm you can not help but burn the bridge behind you. The act of deconstructing big stories and protestations of objectivity are alienating. Yet it is worth noticing that both modernity and post-modernity can come out of faithful longings. Descartes desired a way to know truth in the face of an explosion of dogmas, and Caputo wields deconstruction against the many idols of the modern age.

 

Monday, July 08, 2024

The Divide (Existentialism and Neo-Orthodoxy)

 The Divide (Existentialism and Neo-Orthodoxy)

Justin Martyr, Tertullian, Tillich, and Barth

Scriptures: Proverbs 6:6-11 and Isaiah 6:1-8

          Listen to what Proverbs is saying! It is saying that the Wisdom of God is baked into the world at such a fundamental level that if you just observe it enough, even little things like ants, you can get a sense of what is righteous and wise. Viewing the creation, we understand the Creator, and the purpose and meaning of all things.

          Listen to what Isaiah is saying! In his vision of the heavenly temple, “Holy, Holy, Holy” strange, strange, strange is the God who is unapproachable and overwhelming. To speak of this God is to require your lips to be purged; knowing God is not observation, but an act of God, a revealing.

          The tension between these two experiences of God is the tension between observable religious truth and received revelation. This is a divide that is oh so wide. Can we know anything about God outside of revelation? Is our experience of the world itself a revelation from that same God?

 

The Early Church:

          A prime example of this tension comes pretty early on in Christian thought, it is the question of whether the Faith can be taught, or if it must be caught.

Justin Martyr (100-165-ish CE) is an apologist, that is he write about the faith trying to explain it to outsiders. He describes the religious rituals of the early church to Rome, hoping to dispel lies told about the liturgy, and engages with Greek Philosophy. At base he assumed the faith could be taught.

Tertullian (160-240-ish CE) held a different view. When asked about engaging with Greek Philosophy, he responded, “What has Jerusalem to do with Athens?” He worried that the act of translating the faith was itself unfaithful. Bridges, after all, go both ways. You might translate some Christian ideas for the pagan world, but in the process pagan ideas will be translated into the Christian faith. Instead, Christians witness to the faith in their faithful death, as Tertullian famously wrote, “The blood of the martyrs is the seeds of the church.” That’s how the faith is caught, inspiration by righteous deeds.

 

Barth and Brunner:

          Some 1750 years later, as Fascism was infecting Europe, a similar debate raged between the theologians Emil Brunner and Karl Barth.

Brunner affirmed that God can be known through God’s work in creation (including the “order of creation” which included governments and nations). To this Karl Barth let out his famous “No!” in response. He affirms that the only revelation of God in the world is Jesus Christ, which will become the cornerstone for his famed, and heavy, systematic theology.

Barth’s insistent “Nein!” rings out not only in response to Brunner’s way of doing theology, but in response to the Nazification of the German Church of the time. There were many people gleefully confusing the spirit of the time and the spirit of the German people, with the Holy Spirit. So too confusing Jesus’ saving acts with those of Adolf Hitler’s “saving” of the German people.

 

Tillich Essentialist vs. Existentialist:

          Another attempt at bridging the divide can be found in the works of Paul Tillich. I’ve heard him called the last famous theologian (look he made Time Magazine). He translated Christian Theology into a modern vernacular; for example, Sin was translated as Estrangement, Grace as Acceptance, and Faith as Being Ultimately Concerned.

          He made these moves by using the lens of existentialism. At base, this Existential Theology went from experienced problem to solution, instead of beginning with essential categories. So, for example, instead of asking “What are humans?” and answering, “They are social animals” as some theologians would, Tillich began with the question “What do humans experience?” and answered, “I experience people as things, as like me, and as me, for I am a human.”

 

Conclusion:

    From the tension between the Wise Sage and the Famed Prophet to the earliest questions about the spread of the Christian Church to the “Nein!” that was heard around the world to Tillich’s project of prioritizing experience over essence, the Divide has been here. If the revelation of God reveals God as Creator, shouldn’t we search for that Creator in the creation? Yet, in our haste to know God, we regularly embrace creation as Creator, and thus become idolaters. Like any translation, how do we remain faithful to the original language while also making it comprehensible to the hearer? How do we, and should we, and can we, bridge the divide?

Monday, July 01, 2024

Session 1: Crossing Bridges (Preaching)

 

Crossing Bridges (Preaching)

Barbara Brown Taylor, Paul Scott Wilson, and Luther

 

Scripture: Acts 17:16-34

Paul, being Paul, refuses to lie low, even when he really should. Instead, he finds the busiest place he could, and mixes it up with the philosophers offering up their truths on the open market. There, spitting their philosophy, are Epicureans, who among other things avoid and deride superstition, and Stoics, who speak of the unity of all people and kinship with God. It is worth noting the location of this marketplace, the Hill of Ares. This hill is associated with the first trial, where Ares is acquitted of killing another god’s son, though he was in fact guilty.

In this saturated marketplace of ideas, Paul is misunderstood. Folks hear him describing Jesus’ resurrection, and think he’s telling them about two gods, Jesus and his consort, Resurrection.

I put all of these pieces onto the table, because the author of Acts wants us to see how, after the crowd’s initial misapprehension of Paul’s proclamation (resurrection as a goddess) Paul builds bridges with his listeners.

He quotes two different philosophers and a poet. He shows the Stoics a point of agreement, we are all God’s sons, and relativizes the idols, something that the Epicureans might have approved of. Then, he even uses the geography to point to Christ. Here, the King of War, guilty of murder, is none the less found innocent of killing another god’s son, but what Paul proclaims is something stranger still, God’s son, the Prince of Peace, innocent of all wrongdoings, found guilt and executed.

 

The Bridge:

          There is a space between text and context, the Scriptures and our life in the Year of Our Lord 2024. One of the tasks of the faith is moving the bible into the heart of the reader and the hearer. For example, if I was preaching the above section of scripture from Acts to all of you, I might take some time to consider what a modern-day Epicurean or Stoic looks like, what stories we might tell that are highly charged mirror images of the Christ story. All this to speak the Gospel in idioms that you understand, to prepare the soil for the Spirit to gather the Gospel in your heart. So, today we’ll look at how three thinkers, Barbara Brown Taylor, Paul Scott Wilson, and Luther, conceive of the Bible crossing into our day to day through preaching.

 

From The Preaching Life:

“No other modern public speaker does what the preacher tries to do. The trial attorney has glassy photographs and bagged evidence to hand around; the teacher has blackboards and overhead projectors; the politician has brass bands and media consultants. All the preacher has is words. Climbing into the pulpit without ropes or sound effects, the preacher speaks—for ten or twenty or thirty minutes—to people who are used to being communicated with in very different ways. Most of the messages in our culture are sent and received in thirty seconds or less and no image on a television screen lasts more than twenty, yet a sermon requires sustained and focused attention. If the topic is not appealing, there are no other channels to be tried. If a phrase is missed, there is no replay button to be pressed. The sermon counts on listeners who will stay tuned to a message that takes time to introduce, develop, and bring to a conclusion. Listeners, for their part, count on a sermon that will not waste the time they give to it.”—Barbara Brown Taylor

          Think of the Preacher’s improbable hope, with nothing more than the spoken word, we’ll cross this bridge from scripture to the hearer’s soul!

 

Most of us would be hard pressed on Sunday morning to say whether we are in church because we believe or because we want to believe. Like the father of the epileptic boy in Mark’s Gospel, we do both: “I believe; help my unbelief!” (9:24) The preacher balances on the round top of the semicolon along with the rest of the world. I cannot preach without belief, but neither can I preach without some experience of unbelief. Both are built into the human experience of the divine, and each tests the strength of the other. The movement of the sermon, like the movement of Christ in the world, is meant to lead from doubt to faith. We may begin by knocking on God’s door, unsure whether anyone is now or has ever been at home, but when the door opens and we are led inside, doubt becomes moot. Our host takes it from us and hangs it in the closet with the dustpan and galoshes.”—Barbara Brown Taylor

          Part of crossing this bridge is a movement from doubt to faith, unbelief to belief. You’ll know you’ve reached the other side because the claims of the Faith are believable, if not forever, if not for everyone, at least in the moment, for the day. We’ve been given belief for the day, our Daily Bread even. This is a continual movement, and that’s okay. Unbelief is not a sign of unfaithfulness, but part of the journey of faith. “I believe; help my unbelief.”

 

“Something happens between the preacher’s lips and the congregation’s ears that is beyond prediction or explanation. The same sermon sounds entirely different at 9:00 and 11:15 A.M. on a Sunday morning. Sermons that make me weep leave my listeners baffled, and sermons that seem cold to me find warm responses. Later in the week, someone quotes part of my sermon back to me, something she has found extremely meaningful—only I never said it.”—Barbara Brown Taylor

          Two things to point out here.

1. Context! Even the different composition of parishioners from 9 and 11:15 worship is enough to make the word hit differently. The hearers have to be considered when preaching—that bridge must be crossed.

2. Ultimately it is God’s doing. Sure the preacher can and must do the hard exegetical work of understanding the text and the context, but the bridging of the two has something ephemeral and mysterious to it. I never said it, but it was heard!

 

What the Word does:

          For Lutherans the Word acts in two ways, as Law and as Gospel. As a caveat, Hebrew Scripture can be experienced as Gospel just as much as the Greek New Testament can be experienced as Law.

For that matter, within worship the Word is administered in the reading of scripture and preaching of it, as well as during the Confession of the Church and in communal prayer as well. This connection between the sermon and confession and prayer tells us something important about the sermon. The sermon is the preacher’s confession at that time and that place, preached on the edge of prayer; this is why preaching someone else’s sermon is not only ineffective, but slaughters the soul.

So, you will know that text has met context when it is experienced as Law and Gospel. But what does that look like?

We experience scripture as Law in two ways, as a mirror and as a window. As a Mirror it is a device that shows us ourselves, warts and all. We are stuck by the reality that we have fallen short, that we are in fact sinners. As a Window scripture allows us to look out at the world and notice injustices and ways malice is not being restrained.

          We experience scripture as Gospel when we receive it as a love letter. Just as the Mirror showed us as we are, the Gospel shows God as God is; God is the one who loves us and will never abandon us, who will die for us so that we might live with God.

 

Connecting Word and World:

          Paul Scott Wilson gives an interesting way of constructing a Law/Gospel sermon, to ensure that text meets context. It is a four-part sermon structure.

First, an experience of the text as Law, or Trouble in Wilson’s language. Then, the preacher points to an analogous type of trouble in the world is lifted up for the congregation.

Third, the preacher points to the text speaking a word of love and mercy, Grace in the Text, as Wilson calls it. Then, finally, in a move parallel to the move from Trouble in the Text to Trouble in the World, the preacher proclaims a sighting of Grace in the World.

 

Conclusion:

          So, putting it all together: using the weak medium of words, translating Scripture to a variety of audiences, the faithful are regularly moved from doubt to faith. This is not the preacher’s doing, but the Holy Spirit’s.

          The Word, read, preached, confessed, and prayed, is experienced by the hearer as a Mirror and Window, as well as a Love Letter.

One method of preaching a solid Law/Gospel sermon is to point out where there is trouble and grace in word and world.

Wednesday, June 26, 2024

Smart People, Wise Faith



              Every year I try to do one bible study that is intentionally challenging for my folk, a bible study that will stretch ‘em. This year I did one I call “Smart People, Wise Faith”. I figured I’d share a long form version of it with my readers, as they might want to be stretched in similar ways.

              At base, Smart People, Wise Faith is a smorgasbord of theologians, giving people a taste of 15 different thinkers. I frame each session with a different way of interacting with a bridge (for example crossing or rebuilding) and connect those actions with a scripture or two.

              The whole project is a little convoluted, but with it I’m able to offer a table full of theological tapas, a varied tasting of Christian thinkers. Below is the menu for each session:

1.      CrossingBridges (Preaching)
-Barbara Brown Taylor, Paul Scott Wilson, and Luther

2.      TheDivide (Existentialism and Neo-Orthodoxy)
-Justin Martyr, Tertullian, Tillich, and Barth

3.      Burning Bridges (Post-Modernity)
-Descartes and John Caputo

4.      Bridgingthe Gap (Race)
-Isaac Asimov, Howard Thurman and Cornel West

5.      RebuildingBridges (Theology of Crisis)
-Augustine, Simone Weil and Chris
Halverson


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