Showing posts with label Christianity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christianity. Show all posts

Friday, May 20, 2011

Sign Of The Times?

I took this photo this afternoon and I have to say my feelings about it are decidedly mixed.


I am not blind to the humor or the irony: I can see that, if May 21, 2011 is indeed "Judgment Day," then it follows -- at least I think it follows -- that the Fire Danger Index would be considerably higher than a mere 2. I also get that if there is a Rapture tomorrow -- something far different than the Final Judgment, by the way -- then those who are indeed taken away will leave lots of things behind (proving, of course, the adage that "you can't take it with you"). I get, too, something perhaps too subtle, namely, that those who think they will be caught up in the Rapture might have second thoughts if they realize someone will be rifling through their forsaken goods. And I further understand the humor and irony in picturing those who are supposed to protect our property -- firefighters -- rushing to the homes of the suddenly departed in order to abscond with everything in sight. I get what's funny; I get the irony. If I didn't, I would not have taken the picture.

But is there something amiss when a town department -- in this case a fire department -- pokes fun at a group's religious beliefs? Granted, those who expect a Rapture -- that Jesus Christ will raise the faithful from a damned planet and leave the faithless behind without hope of redemption -- belong to a rather small group; there are many very devout and orthodox Christians who do not believe in this particular event. Regardless, the Rapture is a distinctly religious belief held by very sincere and devout people. Is this appropriate for a town sign?

Hey, but let me count myself among those who are skeptical about what is prognosticated for tomorrow. Clearly the prophecy possesses one intrinsic problem: it is May 21 somewhere right now, and yet I write this on May 20. Perhaps Jesus was way ahead of His peers (which, to the devout, seems undeniable) when He admitted that even He did not know the "day or the hour" when the earth would come to an end. Perhaps Jesus was well aware that geo-physics -- with a roundish, revolving earth and all -- reveal that a "day" is a rather relative term; and this especially when we consider that today is already tomorrow somewhere east of where I sit (and west, of course). May 21 is today; so, too, is May 20. When, pray tell, is the earth really "within" what we would call "May 21, 2011"? Does the universe itself follow the Gregorian (or Julian) calendar? (What day is it on the International Space Station, by the way, or what day is it on the sun?)

Moreover, at what point in a Christian's life does he or she gain the confidence to KNOW what Jesus Christ claimed not to know? Or is this just another example of the gnostic temptation -- to know and discern what others are too obtuse, dumb or worldly to divine for themselves? Clearly the gnostic temptation is an all too common one, but one would think the last people to fall prey to such an allurement would be the Christians whose Lord admitted the "day [and] the hour" were not something with which He was particularly concerned. 

But, well, whatever. The world keeps spinning. I have been taught since a child to live and love as if each day is my last -- with the emphasis on love. I have been taught to "be ready," and not just in the religious but even in the social or existential sense: I ought to have as few loose ends with my loved ones as possible. In a very real sense every day is Judgment Day. I've got no guarantees I have a tomorrow. Heck, I don't have any guarantees that I have a right now. I can only trust, hope, believe. I can only beg for mercy and grace; and I can give what love, grace, and hope I have to give. 

Is Jesus returning tomorrow? I have no idea. I know that the mystery of the Christian faith is summed up in this triad: Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again. Christians have proclaimed this for 2,000 years, and it is doubtful they will stop proclaiming it after tomorrow. 

But it is good to remember what is recorded as the last prayer written in the New Testament; it is a prayer given in response to Christ's last promise. It is a sober prayer. It is a prayer I can almost hear spoken with a sort of reverent reluctance. Surely it is not offered with great vigor and enthusiasm; surely it is not something proclaimed with a great deal of glee. It is more a prayer of trusting resignation than it is one of eager confidence and unrestrained jubilation. 

"Behold, I return quickly." 

"Even so, return Lord Jesus." 

Peace to you all. May all love be yours. Forever.



©2011/Bill Gnade 

Wednesday, August 04, 2010

Anne Rice Was A Christian? Who Knew?

I guess in certain circles, really small circles, the big news is that author Anne Rice has "quit being a Christian." Her thoughtful announcement was tactfully posted on her Facebook page, which, apparently, is in accordance with the rigid expectations of the newest decorum. 

Admittedly the circle in which I exist is even smaller than I thought. Ms. Rice has "quit being a Christian"? I had no idea she had even started playing. 

What, pray tell, will the Church do now? Maybe Bono can stand in the gap. 

©2010/All Rights Reserved. 

Friday, April 02, 2010

The Day They Call Good

At this hour He hangs.

The blind He healed no longer see; the deaf He healed no longer understand. Those who stood close are now only brave enough to watch -- from a safe distance.

He cries out; they bring Him vinegar and gall to drink. A small Roman market opens at the foot of a dripping cross: guards place bids on His garments, even the hem of His garment.

Nothing can stop His bleeding issue.

No one knows, perhaps not (yet) even He, that everyone hangs in Him, that His exsanguination is theirs; is their only hope. There is mockery, scoffing, cursing;

the unknowing living spit sarcasm into His wounds,

He, the only knowing dying,

turns vitriol to wine
He has finished His cup
and it pours out
pooling beneath so many
nervous feet

one thief finds paradise in His great poverty
another finds nothing worth taking
not even this broken bit of bread

a sign maker admires his work,
dumb to the irony of his irony
a crown weaver picks a thorn from his thumb
thinking about furlough

a virgin finds her son finding her Son
and a son finds the mother who gave birth to
a dying God

a rabbi weeps at the Law's last breath
a guard feels the weakness of the sword,
the strength of surrender

a spear pierces the side of heaven
and hell spills out

there is no safe distance


©2007 Bill Gnade. All Rights Reserved.

Thursday, January 07, 2010

Cover Your Ears! Brit Hume, Ann Coulter, And The Cross


Fox News contributor Brit Hume recently said something controversial -- on TV! -- about the nature of Christianity. Perhaps you heard his blasphemous remarks; perhaps you heard his great insult.

And perhaps you didn't.

Well, at least one person did -- Ann Coulter. I know, I know, she's a firebrand. She's a bombshell bomb thrower; a crass ideologue; a political pit bull. But set the caricatures of her aside for a moment and read what she has to say about Christianity, about it being the best deal on the planet. Is she right? Has Ann Coulter presented the gospel in a way that does justice to the "good news"?

You tell me. I'd love to hear what you think of "If You Can Find A Better Deal, Take It!" And I'd like to hear what you think of Mr. Hume's remarks, too. (Coulter quotes him at length.)

Peace.

Monday, November 03, 2008

Dear Sen. Obama: Why I Can't Vote For You -- Reason #1: You Have Not Denounced Idolatry

Dear Senator,

Blessings -- again -- to you. I recognize that tonight is a difficult one for you: you may be on the very threshold of something new and wonderful, but the death of your grandmother must surely sting. I bid you well.

I know I have plodded along in five other essays outlining why I cannot vote for you. Forgive me. I do have my reasons, not least of which is that I want to demonstrate that I disagree with you not because of who you are (I actually like you a great deal). Rather, I disagree with you on the issues, the philosophical issues, that are before us. Our disagreement is really about ideas, and ideals.

Sir, I know you call yourself a Christian. I am not here to divine whether that is true. I know you even said to Christianity Today that you "believe in the redemptive death and resurrection of Jesus Christ." I recall hearing you talk about Reverend Wright leading you to faith in Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. I understand that sort of language; I, too, accept the truths of the ancient creeds.

But here's my issue, sir, and perhaps someday you and I shall have a chance to discuss this face to face. My issue is with the clearly messianic language you and your supporters are using in this campaign. My issue is with your use of New Testament passages to ground your economic plans. Perhaps I have this wrong, perhaps I should be saying my "issues," for I obviously have more than one.

Let me ask you: When you tell us that America's grave sin is that it has forgotten Jesus' teaching that "whatsoever you do to the least of My brethren you do also to Me," are you under the impression that Jesus is talking to the American secular and civil state? I don't see how you can be, but I am open to the possibility that I am wrong. But how can I be? I heard what you said, and it was clear: you've even talked about the Sermon on the Mount being normative and prescriptive for American culture; I've also heard you urge Americans to remember that we are to be "our brother's keeper." Why would you do this? Are you sure you should be planning on leading this country by Christian principles?

And what, pray tell, has become of the Democrats' many fears about right-wing theocracies? Egads, Senator Obama, you're perhaps the most theocratic-sounding candidate of my lifetime. You make Pat Robertson sound like a rather viable candidate: you've said things on the campaign trail that are every bit as "religious right" as his many campaign statements. Somehow, however, you've not been vilified by the media or your party for such declamations. You are free to quote the Bible from the podium any time you wish. But what place does the Bible have in forging the policies of the secular state?

For the life of me, Senator, I particularly do not know how you can for one minute stand the idolatry happening before your very eyes. Your supporters have deified you, and all you are is a mere candidate for president. There is nothing divine about you; you are not the messiah. And yet you somehow reconcile your claims that Jesus is Lord with letting others treat you as if you were a lord yourself. How do you do that? And haven't you heard that the Christian's "Great Commission" given by your Lord Jesus Christ is to go out into the world and tell others that He -- not you or the state or the nations united, not peace or prosperity or fair taxes -- that He, Jesus Christ, is the only hope for each and every human soul? How is it that you have not asked people to tear up those signs bearing your likeness under which are inscribed "hope," and "progress," and "change", when you, by your own faith proclamation, cannot EVER be hope? And even if you are a mere messenger of hope, surely you know that any message of hope that is not rooted in and centered on Christ Himself is not hope at all, but an idol?

I wonder why when Louis Farrakhan actually called you the messiah I did not hear from you, shouting from the very rooftops, your denunciations of such blasphemy. I know Mr. Farrakhan has been honored by your own church and its pastor; I know you have denounced both in a variety of ways. But what I have not heard is you stand up and defend the Messiah you said saved you. How is it that you would not every day denounce these sorts of appellations, these sorts of idolatrous blasphemies of the One Lord into Whom you have been baptized?

In short, Senator, your weakness at denouncing these sorts of remarks; your tepid response to the thousands of people who have elevated you to a position that you know is not yours to hold, actually frightens me. Why this silence and complicity from you, a fallen man who claims to know the one true and only Messiah?

I could hear and see this idolatry early on in your campaign; I blogged about it long before this worship of your person was well-known. I am not claiming that I was anywhere near first to notice, I am simply pointing out that you have permitted a cult of personality to be formed around you like no one I've ever seen in American politics, and somehow you have let your Christian faith accept what is not yours to accept.

For that reason alone, sir, I cannot vote for you.

Lastly, let me note that one could make the case God has raised you up to be a transformative character in America. Of course, you know all too well that those whom God has raised to play a mighty role are often prone to fall, and fall terribly. Many a good man turns his back on God, pride eating away all sense of gratitude and humilty that remain in him. Let it be said that God has raised you up, that God is leading the way and you are the banner of His new direction (Christian homosexual activists have argued that the Holy Spirit is indeed changing what it means to be a married human being, among other things). But haven't we heard others say this about themselves, too? Didn't George W. Bush get lambasted and berated by your own party for believing that God was at work in him?

How then, dear Senator, is it possible that your party has suddenly accepted that God and you are somehow one in purpose?

In the end, Senator Obama, you may be a Christian, and I certainly believe you are, but I have no idea what sort of Christianity you embrace, as you seem utterly indifferent to the high place you've allowed people to place you. But the Lord I've known in the quiet and simple and tragic moments of my life, has told me that such a high place is already taken.

Jesus the Christ, born of Mary the Virgin in the town of Bethlehem, has been raised to the Highest Place where idols are not welcome. He is the Chief Cornerstone on which all false gods are shattered. He Alone is Progress and Change and Hope. He is the Uniter.

Jesus the Christ, God Incarnate.

"In the beginning was the Word," and the Word was not any one of us.

Peace to you.

©2008. All Rights Reserved.




Wednesday, August 20, 2008

A Question That Needs Answering: "How" Does God Forgive?

[I think I've touched on this sort of question before at Contratimes, but I am not sure I've explicitly asked readers for input. While this is an undeniably Christian topic I am raising, I urge anyone who feels inclined to jump in and offer an opinion.]

Yesterday I landed on a capital blog wherein one of the site's contributors asked a very interesting question of those who describe themselves as "evangelical." The question was asked by UPenn law professor David Skeel. He asked: "Should evangelicals forgive the environmental movement?"

I am not interested here in discussing either evangelicalism or the environmental movement. What interests me is the notion of forgiveness, the mechanics of forgiveness, if you will.

In shaping his question, Professor Skeel notes Jesus' admonition delivered exactly after His presentation of the Lord's Prayer. Recall that the Lord's Prayer includes this petition: "Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." Jesus then says “...if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” (Matthew 6:14)

Interesting. Now, when taking Jesus' admonition and combining it with St. Paul's admonition in Colossians 3:13 where he says "Forgive as the Lord forgave you," I wonder if it is safe for us to conclude that God forgives us conditionally. Surely there is one condition that must be met before we are forgiven, namely, we must forgive others. If we don't, then there is no forgiveness.

Here is part of my question: Does God ONLY forgive those who ask Him? And here is another part: Do we need to be contrite and repentant in order to be forgiven by God?

Please note that at times Jesus seems quite generous with his absolution. He forgives the sins of the paralytic man in one sweeping statement; he forgives the sins of the prostitute weeping at his feet. Neither person is reported to have asked for forgiveness. Perhaps that these two souls simply approached him implies that each is deeply contrite; that their petitions are found in the fact that they have sought Christ out. But what of Jesus' petition while hanging on the cross: "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do?" Are the folks at the foot of the cross forgiven in total? Or are they only forgiven for the part they've played in His death?

So here's the question, in full: Do I, as a person who seeks to be approved of God by His grace and mercy and love, forgive others ONLY if they are repentant and contrite: do I forgive them ONLY if they ask for it? Or do I just forgive liberally, without condition?

If I do forgive without condition, do I forgive like God forgives? But we already know God forgives conditionally: He will not forgive those who do not forgive others. Does God forgive those who do not want to be forgiven? Does He forgive those who do not believe they've done anything wrong or that they have any debts?

And note what St. John says: "IF we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness." (1 John 1:9, emphasis added) Add to this what Jesus said about forgiving one's brother (Luke 17:3-4):

""If your brother sins, rebuke him, and if he repents, forgive him. If he sins against you seven times in a day, and seven times comes back to you and says, 'I repent,' forgive him."

Isn't this proof that forgiveness is conditional?

_______________________

Returning to Mr. Skeel's question -- whether evangelicals should forgive the environmental movement for its old contention that Christianity is responsible for polluting and defiling the earth with its "You shall have dominion over the earth"† banner leading the way to all forms of environmental degradation -- should Christians forgive this absurd and unjust environmentalist charge against the Church IF those making the charge are unrepentant? What if they do not care to be forgiven? What if they refuse to acknowledge any culpability and blame? What if they continue to insist they are right? Must Christians forgive them -- especially if those same environmentalists refuse to forgive Christianity? Should Christians forgive those who don't forgive them if God does not forgive those who don't forgive?

PLEASE, I implore you to share your thoughts on this matter. It is a worthy topic; it has ramifications for the whole of the Gospel, of how it is perceived and how it is presented. I have not arrived at a conclusion here. And in an email exchange with Professor Skeel, I promised him that I would try to find an answer. That is why I turn to you, my readers.

Any thoughts?

(If you are uncomfortable sharing your thoughts in this forum, you may email me, though I would prefer to maintain an unbroken comments thread. But do what makes you feel most comfortable.)

(Also, this is a DISCUSSION forum, at least today. It is not a DEBATE. Is that OK?)

Peace.

†It mustn't be overlooked that the passage in question, Genesis 1:26ff, is a distinctly Jewish passage.

©Bill Gnade 2008/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, August 17, 2008

Emerging From The Dark, Blinking: The Purpose-Driven Blog

A cave. That's what I've been living in for weeks now. How else to explain my complete surprise at seeing John McCain and Barack Obama being interviewed last night on CNN and FoxNews, you know, BIG CABLE, by an evangelical pastor, I mean, "mega-pastor?"

All I've read of pastor Rick Warren's book, The Purpose-Driven Church, is the title. I've heard him speak for all of two minutes on the telly. I don't know a thing about him other than that he is the founder of what seemed to me a new evangelical fad. His book, and the para-church programs born of it, struck me -- and I admit I'm being superficial here -- as more of the same kitsch and gimmickry to which evangelicalism seems particularly prone. When I think of Rick Warren, I unfairly think of the Prayer of Jabez, bobble-head Jesus dolls and WWJD shoe laces. And I am always prone to cynical mutterings, like, "What about the Jesus-driven Church?" or the more philosophical "What about the Church-driven Church?" or, in light of certain prayer techniques, "What about the Prayer of our Lord?" But such questions get you nowhere; and they will certainly never get you the sort of broader cultural approval one can get standing between two presidential candidates.

I have not yet watched the "debate" or interview from Saddleback Church. I recorded it for later digestion; it's comfortably sealed in digital Tupperware just waiting for me to plunge in and get my fill. Of course, not having yet watched it, I will hold my tongue on its merits.

But last night, as I flipped over the news channels carrying the debate, I could not help ask the rather profane question, "Who the hell is Rick Warren?" Now don't get me wrong; this is more confession than polemic, so please know that I don't think the question a particularly thoughtful, moral or proper one. I would rather ask, if I was not prone to profanation, how it is that Rick Warren has climbed such heights that he is able to play James Lipton or Sir David Frost to two of the nation's most important men, historically and politically speaking. How does this happen? Yes, yes. I know that Mr. Warren's story is quite amazing; it is inspiring to learn of his many achievements and great generosity: his Wikipedia entry informs us that he "reverse tithes" at his church: due to the overwhelming success of his book, Mr. Warren has returned all of his many years' salary and gives 90 percent of his earnings to his church, leaving himself 10 percent on which to live. That is a decent and inspiring thing to do (and that is one fine book).

Part of me, the really cynical, jaded, fallen, and ineluctably corrupted part of me, believes that Mr. Warren was just using his platform to introduce his preferred candidate, Barack Obama, to a broader evangelical audience. Cover for this motive, of course, was to involve Mr. McCain. Besides, having both men appear gives the event the necessary gravitas to garner broad media attention. (One telling irony is that Charles Krauthammer said after the event that it was perhaps the best sort of political debate he had ever seen; if it is, what does that say about BIG MEDIA, who usually host these big-ticket political events?) But, I admit, this is me only guessing.

I admit my cynicism is utterly unjustified, though I know two things: there is a push on in the Obama campaign to truly secure the evangelical vote (and he appears to have it, according to polls), and Mr. Obama has appeared at a forum at Mr. Warren's church before -- sans McCain -- all to great applause and approval (and no small controversy).

But enough. I must simply stop, wait, listen, learn. Besides. I am late for church.

Peace.

©Bill Gnade 2008/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Call Him The Maitreya

If you've not read this fine essay, consider yourself in a state of devolution.

Barack Obama has repeatedly told America that he is a Christian. If being a Christian means that a person believes Jesus Christ is the Anointed One, that He is Lord, Savior, King and the true God from true God incarnate, then doesn't it follow that any Christian would denounce all claims that the deity is not Jesus Christ? And wouldn't it behoove any candidate for PRESIDENT of the United States who claims to be a Christian to tell his followers that he is NOT running for Lord of the Nations, he is not the messiah, he is not to be worshiped, and that he is just running for a four-year term as president of a democratic nation?

In other words, wouldn't a Christian candidate for president show some restraint in how he talks about himself, the future, and the role he and the United States will play in "healing" the world?

Bottom line: The Barack Obama campaign and its revivalist zeal, is really about psychology.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

The Gospel Of Guilt: The Wright Way To Preach

I can't resist writing a few theological responses to Rev. Jeremiah Wright's speech and subsequent comments at yesterday's National Press Club. Of course, I would not be interested in Rev. Wright if he were not undermining what I initially took to be a noble goal in the campaign for the presidency of Barack Obama. That goal was not racial harmony. It was that America would transcend race; that our politics and related discourses would get us past the bitternesses of our fathers. But Rev. Wright has sabotaged all that. Now, like a bad LSD flashback into the heart of the 1960s, race is everything. According to Rev. Wright, God is on the side of the oppressed -- solely. According to Rev. Wright (who cites, in passing, white "evangelical" Jim Wallis) America has not even repented of its sin of slavery. America, be damned.

Let me be the first to assert that "America be damned" is not one whit inaccurate. I say this for the simple reason that both blind nature and Christian eschatology admit that everything is damned, damned by the great cosmic implosion or God's building of a new heaven and new earth. This point may seem glib and even silly, but it isn't, as it points to a very leveling moral and social principle: death equalizes us all. And at the very least Rev. Wright is all about leveling, about equality.

Also, I would not be pursuing Rev. Wright had Mr. Obama not given his permission, as he himself believes that Rev. Wright's religious views are fair political game.

THE BIBLICAL HISTORY QUESTION

I think it wise to quote Rev. Wright's remarks about the Holy Bible which he offered during the press club's Q&A period following his speech. Note that he is defending the black liberation idea that God is the God of the oppressed:

"In biblical history, there's not one word written in the Bible between Genesis and Revelations that was not written under one of six different kinds of oppression, Egyptian oppression, Assyrian oppression, Persian oppression, Greek oppression, Roman oppression, Babylonian oppression. The Roman oppression is the period in which Jesus is born. And comparing imperialism that was going on in Luke, imperialism was going on when Caesar Augustus sent out a decree that the whole world should be taxed. They weren't in charge of the world. It sounds like some other governments I know."

Those of us who possess some biblical literacy should immediately see the falsehood of Rev. Wright's assertion. It is NOT TRUE that every word of the Bible was written under some form of political oppression. Many of the words of the Torah (or Christian Old Testament) were penned during relative political and social calm. The words of Solomon -- the wildly rich king and revered "wisest man on earth" -- drafted proverbs and poems that were written while he and his kingdom were, in effect, in charge of a whole region. King David's famous psalm of contrition, Psalm 51, was penned while he was in power, despite the fact that he might have been at war. Ecclesiastes appears to have been penned during a period of relative ease, and I think it clear that Job, arguably the oldest of the biblical texts, was not penned by someone under political oppression. And even some of the New Testament is arguably penned by men who were not under oppression either, men like Luke, a Greek physician, or Paul, a Roman citizen of rather high standing. In the end, just one exception, and there is more than one, devastates Rev. Wright's sweeping and dogmatic assertion. (It should be noted that Rev. Wright does not acknowledge that much of the biblical record was written under brother-on-brother or Israel-on-Israel oppression.)

Hence, it is safe to conclude that Rev. Wright is flat-out wrong, and is seeing Christianity through a sieve, one not justified by either Christian tradition or its sacred texts.

But I would like to highlight one absolutely essential point, one that debilitates much of Rev. Wright's liberation theology, and it is this (I have written about this here): Jesus Christ, who was indeed born as a Jew living under Roman oppression, NEVER mentions that He or His disciples live under occupation. OK. That might be extreme. But it is not extreme to assert, with all due confidence, that Jesus clearly ignores the Roman occupation. And He clearly ministers to those occupiers without once asking them to denounce either their Roman citizenship or their positions.

Hence, Rev. Wright is not only wrong about the biblical record, He is wrong in averring that Jesus came to emancipate ANYONE from social oppression. Jesus's concerns, made clear in statements that His kingdom was not of this world and that "the poor you will always have with you," were not political or even societal concerns. They were concerns of the heart, soul and mind of individuals. He was not a social liberator, nor was He revolutionary in any political sense. His political influence was accidental (I mean this philosophically) to His message. His intent was to free humanity from sin, primarily the pervasive, ubiquitous sin of envy.

THE EXCLUSIVITY QUESTION

Here's another excerpt from yesterday's Q&A at the National Press Club:

MODERATOR: Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No man cometh unto the father but through me." Do you believe this? And do you think Islam is a way to salvation?

WRIGHT: Jesus also said, "Other sheep have I who are not of this fold."

(APPLAUSE)


I have to inject here that Rev. Wright's body language, tone, and countenance showed utter contempt for his interlocutor during much if not most of this exchange. To me, Rev. Wright was thuggish, condescending, arrogant and -- immature.

But let us note the problem. Rev. Wright has been asked if he believes whether Jesus Christ, the Man He purportedly believes is the Savior of the whole world, is the only way to God. Alas, acting like some pompous smart ass, Rev. Wright, in a most self-satisfied manner, replied that Jesus referred to "sheep ... not of this fold." With that, Rev. Wright pulled away from the microphone, satisfied that he has shown not only his superior wit but that his sense of irony has no bounds: he, too, can make Jesus say whatever he wants Him to say. Of course, the real irony is lost on the smug Rev. Wright, as his obscene citation of the "other sheep" only supports Christ's claim as being the exclusive Savior of the world: Jesus is the Shepherd of the other sheep who still must come to God through Him. Jesus, only to augment His point, also argues that He is the Gate of the sheepfold, so no one enters that fold -- irrespective of whether they are OTHER sheep or not -- unless they pass through Him.

Rev. Wright's inanity is indicative of his fear of estranging his black Muslim friends, who share his identity politics. Muslims, who deny that Jesus IS the Christ, the gate-keeper, or the "way and the life," are the other sheep to which Rev. Wright refers. And this from a man described even by Barack Obama as a "renowned" biblical scholar. Rev. Wright's curt reply merely avoids the question by obfuscating simple Christian passages. Jesus claims to be the way for ALL sheep, irrespective of whether they are of the Jewish fold. Rev. Wright intimates, utterly and completely erroneously, that there are "other sheep" who do not need Christ.

And let us put this in boldest relief: Rev. Wright, or so it was reported yesterday, is getting security help from the Nation of Islam.

THE SOCIOLOGY PROBLEM: Standing Black Liberation Theology On Its Head

Let us again return to something that Rev. Wright said in his speech. Here he is talking about how our ideas of God influence us:

"Dr. Jones, in his book, God in the Ghetto, argues quite accurately that one's theology, how I see God, determines one's anthropology, how I see humans, and one's anthropology then determines one's sociology, how I order my society. Now, the implications from the outside are obvious. If I see God as male, if I see God as white male, if I see God as superior, as God over us and not Immanuel, which means "God with us," if I see God as mean, vengeful, authoritarian, sexist, or misogynist, then I see humans through that lens. My theological lens shapes my anthropological lens. And as a result, white males are superior; all others are inferior."

Let us review the sequence: God-ideas influence our views of mankind, and our views of both influence how we order society.

Rev. Wright goes on:

To say "I am a Christian" is not enough. Why? Because the Christianity of the slaveholder is not the Christianity of the slave. The God to whom the slaveholders pray as they ride on the decks of the slave ship is not the God to whom the enslaved are praying as they ride beneath the decks on that slave ship.

How we are seeing God, our theology, is not the same. And what we both mean when we say "I am a Christian" is not the same thing. The prophetic theology of the black church has always seen and still sees all of God's children as sisters and brothers, equals who need reconciliation, who need to be reconciled as equals in order for us to walk together into the future which God has prepared for us.


Now, look at what Rev. Wright says about black liberation theology, a theology he gladly espouses:

Now, in the 1960s, the term "liberation theology" began to gain currency with the writings and the teachings of preachers, pastors, priests, and professors from Latin America. Their theology was done from the underside.

Their viewpoint was not from the top down or from a set of teachings which undergirded imperialism. Their viewpoints, rather, were from the bottom up, the thoughts and understandings of God, the faith, religion and the Bible from those whose lives were ground, under, mangled and destroyed by the ruling classes or the oppressors.

Liberation theology started in and started from a different place. It started from the vantage point of the oppressed.


I hope you can see the problem. Rev. Wright tells us first that we should start our theology from the top: how we view God informs not just our theology, but our anthropology and sociology. In sharpest Christian terms, it is asserted by all orthodox Christians that God defines for us Who and What He is and What He is like. To God, our relation is responsive: He reveals, we respond. He is Who He Is, or so even Moses reported thousands of years ago. Christianity's starting point is the God Revealed.

But according to Rev. Wright's own words, he actually inverts the paradigm: black liberation theology begins in sociology, the sociological status of the oppressed. The oppressed, beginning in the mire, see God from the pit, defining Him as their liberator and the judge and damner of those who have enslaved them. God, then, is defined not by His own fiat, but by the conditions of the lowest social group. God is coming to judge, and the top social group shall be tossed down and the bottom elevated: the last are now first, the oppressed are now the judges.

That is why Rev. Wright can say, essentially, that the oppressors pray to a different God, even if those oppressors are Christians.

But the FACT IS THIS: All people are prone to manufacture God in their OWN IMAGE! And Rev. Wright has done EXACTLY that!

Alas, this is what passes, at least in Rev. Wright's world, as the prophetic voice. Curiously absent is any sense of proportion. Yes, Rev. Wright concedes that God loves the whole world, as he remarked in his talk, but this concession seems almost reluctantly offered. It even smacks of elitism, as it suggests that God prefers to love the oppressed but, almost despite Himself, He can love, well, "others" too.

Let me say with all due candor: this stuff is preposterous.

THE GOSPEL OF GUILT

In the end, we are left not with a gospel of liberation preached by Rev. Wright, but one of oppression, even extortion. Despite the fact that Rev. Wright is supposed to represent a faith that proclaims that Christ has paid our debts, that He forgives with abandon (assuming folks want forgiveness), that He absolves us of our guilt, Rev. Wright brings the glad tidings that Americans are still guilty, still reprobate, still WRONG. He has not forgiven, nor has he offered that forgiveness. Instead, he brings the gospel of extortion, of indebtedness: America, you still OWE! America, you still must pay! And this is not merely directed at institutions, as institutions cannot be divorced of their constituents. This is aimed at people, individuals.

This is not the gospel. We are not hearing the voice of Christ. We are hearing the voice of envy, resentment, anger, entitlement. This, believe it or not, is imprisonment dressed as liberty.

It is not the gospel at all.

Peace to you.

©Bill Gnade 2008/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Friday, March 21, 2008

The Day They Call Good (Redux)

[In honor of Holy Week, and mindful of what this day means to all Christians, I repost a meditation I wrote for last year's Good Friday.]

At this hour He hangs. The blind who were healed no longer see; the deaf He made hear no longer understand. Those who once stood as close as possible are scattered, most now only brave enough to stand -- at a safe distance.

He cries out; they bring Him vinegar and gall to drink. A small Roman market opens at the foot of His dripping cross: guards place bids on His garments, even the hem of His garment.

Nothing can stop His bleeding issue.

No one knows, perhaps not (yet) even He, that everyone hangs in Him, that His exsanguination is theirs; is their only hope. There is mockery, scoffing, cursing;

the unknowing living spit sarcasm into His wounds,

He, the only knowing dying,

turns vitriol to wine
He has finished His cup
and it pours out
pooling beneath so many
nervous feet

one thief finds paradise in His great poverty
another finds nothing worth taking
not even this broken bit of bread

a sign maker admires his work,
dumb to the irony of his irony
a crown maker picks a small thorn from his thumb
thinking about furlough

a virgin finds her son finding her God
and a son finds the mother who gave birth to
this dying God

a rabbi weeps at the Law's last breath
a guard feels the weakness of the sword,
the strength of surrender

a spear pierces the side of heaven
and hell spills out

there is no safe distance


©Bill Gnade 2007, 2008./Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Friday, February 08, 2008

The "Blessed" Won; Is Still Winning

When I read yesterday the Online Journal's James Taranto (See "Obama: A Love Story"), or ABC News' Jake Tapper (see "And Obama Wept"), or the comments of sundry analysts (not my analyst, of course), I shook my head in incredulity. "Where have you all been?" I asked.

The question, as you may know, refers to the religious, messianic dimensions of the Barack Obama phenomenon, and why so few have noted it until rather recently. Surely there is a blatant messianism playing out before our very eyes.

Needless to say, I noted this as far back as October 2006, long before Mr. Obama entered the race for the presidency. See my "A New Magnificat."

In December 2006, in "Blazing To The Top Of Charts," I wrote:

THE CULT OF PERSONALITY

I think it is important to note how many folks are indeed already committed to voting for Mr. Obama should he run. How can this be? He is hardly known, he is hardly seasoned in the public eye. On what are his enthusiasts basing their enthusiasm? I have already heard much about his charm and charisma. Is that it? I have heard Harold Ford Jr. describe Mr. Obama as brilliant. But is that all? And I know Mr. Obama has written a couple of books. But is that enough? Is this, at least right now, merely the cult of personality, the adoration of persona? Surely it is not the cult of substance, or the cult of strong political record, right? It is something other than these things. Is it more hosanna politics?

I wonder.

In January 2007, I wrote a piece about Mr. Obama's newness, and his positioning himself as a deliverer; the piece was called "A Newbie Attitude." The play on words should be evident to anyone familiar with Christ's beatitudes. A month later, I wrote a piece about Mr. Obama's imminent pronouncement of his candidacy called "Two Annunciations." The same February day, right as Mr. Obama made his candidacy official, I wrote this piece, "And Now The Presentation."

Any attentive Christian will know that these titles all refer to events around the birth and ministry of Jesus Christ; any attentive American will know that these essays point out the messianism of the Obama movement -- that it almost seems to plagiarize real religious events (and even American historical symbols, e.g., the steps of the Illinois legislature -- Lincoln's house). And I drafted these essays not for mere color or entertainment. I drafted them as warnings.

A few months ago, I attended an Obama event in which Mr. Obama's wife, Michelle, spoke with great passion and fervor. In her talk she said this:

"We are all broken. Every one of us is broken. ... And we all have a hole in our hearts, a hole that needs to be filled."

It would be imprudent of me to expect you not to notice the religious language here; I know you do. But I wonder how many of us hear what she is saying: that her husband can help fill the void. Millions of evangelicals have heard similar language describing the "God-shaped hole in the human heart." Does Ms. Obama mean to suggest that we have a Barack-shaped hole in our hearts, too?

Not long ago, Mr. Obama told the congregation in a South Carolina evangelical church, "I am confident that we can create a Kingdom right here on Earth." Surely this sort of language is richly religious. One would expect to hear some outcry from those on the left, particularly since the left generally berates such language when uttered by those on the right. Even weirder, perhaps, is that no one can name a viable Republican candidate who has ever said such a thing. At the very least, hoping that a democratic republic can establish a "kingdom on earth" sounds sufficiently Tory enough to launch an investigation into whether a rebellion to reestablish a monarchy is afoot.

So, all this to say that Hosanna Politics, as I have dubbed them, are at full force ... and that in the Obama campaign. Right-wingers are perennially chided for pushing theocratic ideas, with hardly any evidence that they push them at all. And yet today we have a candidate for president -- whose name means "Blessed" -- using biblical language and establishing religious parallels that hardly raises an eyebrow.

Mr. Obama's great promise from last February's Annunciation? "WE shall issue in a new birth of freedom on this earth." And you thought Bush and Co. were all about expansionism and American hegemony. Where Mr. Obama gets the idea that Americans need a leader to save the earth is a puzzle. That his supporters seemingly have no problem with his ambitions is really quite scary. He -- and they along with him -- shall heal the land.

Who, really, does not want to be known as a healer?

Peace.

©Bill Gnade 2008/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Monday, January 21, 2008

What IS This Day About?


T
oday, America celebrates Martin Luther King's birthday. In honor of such an inspiring man, I direct readers to this 2006 essay.

Also, I think this quote from Reverend King's "Letter from a Birmingham Jail," first published in The Christian Century, is worth posting here:

'…though I was initially disappointed at being categorized as an extremist, as I continued to think about the matter I gradually gained a measure of satisfaction from the label. Was not Jesus an extremist for love: "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you." Was not Amos an extremist for justice: "Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream." Was not Paul an extremist for the Christian gospel: "I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus." Was not Martin Luther an extremist: "Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise, so help me God." And John Bunyan: "I will stay in jail to the end of my days before I make a butchery of my conscience." And Abraham Lincoln: "This nation cannot survive half slave and half free." And Thomas Jefferson: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal . . . ." So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or for the extension of justice? In that dramatic scene on Calvary's hill three men were crucified. We must never forget that all three were crucified for the same crime -- the crime of extremism. Two were extremists for immorality, and thus fell below their environment. The other, Jesus Christ, was an extremist for love, truth, and goodness, and thereby rose above his environment. …'


Peace this day.

Bill Gnade 2008/Contratimes. All rights reserved.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT: Existence, Faith, and Atheism

[What follows is drawn from a comment I made at Debunking Christianity in response to an essay, "The Cost of Atheism." I was sharing my thoughts with a person from Illinois and Wisconsin who writes under the lovely screen name, GoPrairie. Our exchange was fun and gracious.

I've used this argument -- it is really more a puzzle, perhaps even a proof -- many times before. I have used it on the web several times; and it played a central role in Part 1 of a book I wrote (still no publisher). In April, it appeared in an exchange I had with atheist-novitiate Luke Buckham at his blog, O Machine.

I thought that some of you would find it fun, though some of you may find it frustrating. Those of my readers given to debates about theism might find it helpful, for it "proves" a very serious thing. I'll let you read for yourself what that thing is.]

[UPDATE, 12.5.07: Because what follows was originally drafted as a comment -- submitted in a discussion elsewhere -- it was hastily written and edited. As a result of some confusion, and some of my own disappointments with the piece, I am emending it to more closely resemble a well-written essay. Thanks. BG]




FOR FUN: THE SPEED OF LIGHT AND YOUR EXISTENCE


Let me note this: If the speed of light is finite, and yet it is the "fastest thing" (186,000 miles/sec) in the universe, then it follows that there is no present, there is no "present tense." Every perception MUST be delayed; we only know the past, irrespective of how quickly light reaches our eyes. From object to eyeball, from fingertip to wine glass, there is a delay; even the body's neurology operates at a finite speed. Hence, we only know a present by inference; but such an inference is rooted in faith. †

Let me go with this further. If the speed of light is finite,†Âº then know that when you look at the stars in the night sky over Wisconsin none of those stars "exists." Only their light "exists;" their fiery furnaces may have gone out long ago. Every single one of them may be gone, burnt out and dead in some distant explosion or some crushing implosion. We CANNOT "know" they are there, we can only know that they once were there, or so we induce from the light we see.

Now, go with me even further. All your life light has been bouncing off of you, traveling about the earth. Imagine for a moment that the light from your skin travels out from the earth and into space. Assuming that you are only about 40-years-old, then you are, in a very real sense, 40-light-years old, too. What does this mean? It means at least this: to the overwhelming majority of the universe, YOU DO NOT EXIST. Anyone 100 light-years away CANNOT know you exist. But, and here's the rub -- YOU DO EXIST. So, alas, we have a problem: Most of the universe cannot even know that life on earth exists -- and yet it does. Nearly every quadrant of the universe could never -- ever -- be shown ANY evidence of your existence, and yet you are in fact a very real being. What does this say about our sense of knowledge? What does this say about our demands for proofs for the existence of God? For if you exist and yet the universe cannot and does not "know" it, then perhaps God exists and you cannot know it -- or do not know it -- yet.

Surely I can at least make this concession: if it is extremely hard for me to prove my own existence to myself,† and if it is hard for me to prove my existence to you, then surely it would be hard for me to prove God's existence at all.

But you do ask for "proof " for God's existence, and I have none. But what if I said that the sun is God? You might counter that the sun is nothing more than a fusion reactor where the helium atom is smashed about. But what if I said this: How do you know God is not a fusion reactor? How do you know God is not a big ball of gas? What I am saying is that just because science has "explained something," it does not follow that science has not described the evidence which points to God; a thing explained is NOT God explained away. God may be proved by my pointing to a prairie dog. How do you know that such evidence is not evidence?

†[To explore this further, please see my essay, "A Letter to Christopher Hitchens;" therein I examine the impossibility of the self proving its existence -- to itself. The main examination occurs following the sub-head, The Transcendental Ego.]

†Âº[It should be noted that if the speed of light is instantaneous, then there is no delay except that between our senses and our perception. But let's assume that there is no delay even here. With that said, light that is instantaneous removes from us the ability to determine the age of the universe.]

_____________________

I would like very much to thank Chris from "Sorry We're Open" for his kind support and many encouraging words over the last several days. He particularly liked this "proof," and so I felt obliged to share it with the rest of you. If you hate what I've written, well, then direct your ire at Chris. Of course, I jest. But I'd surely love to know what you think.

_____________________

This New York Times piece by physicist Paul Davies is interesting -- especially if you draw your worldview from science. See? Faith is not so bad.

Peace.

Bill Gnade

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

On Belief: My Great Protest

My dear readers,

I've been too busy to write here, but I have not been away from blogging. I won't steer you toward what I've been up to -- elsewhere -- but I will say that I am tired. My fatigue is not the kind one feels after some arduous task or struggle; rather, it is the kind one feels from spending too much time in one's head.

Suffice it to say, I am tired of trying to sound convincing.

________________________

Why do any of us believe what we do believe?

________________________

A Tangent

A few questions come to mind. They emerge randomly to me; they carry no import of any expedience. They just merely show up, bowing their heads while standing atop a ball: ?????

  • If Jesus the Christ is real, and if He was a blogger, what would He blog about? What tone would He take?
  • If Christ accepted comments at His blog, what would be the first question you'd ask?
  • If Satan is real and he had a blog, what would he write about? What question would you ask him?
  • If there is a God, does He love Satan? If so, why? If not, why not?
Ahh, the questions seem so silly once I write them down. They do not hit me as being more than the ruminations of a sophomore. But I wonder.

_______________________

THE QUESTION EXPLORED

Why DO we believe what we do? Is it not a matter of desire, of will? Do I believe in Christ merely because it is my desire to do so? Is belief nothing more than an act, a choice, a decision?

My non-believing friends, be they atheists or agnostics or materialists or empiricists, inform me that the cosmos possesses no inherent "meaning." In other words, there is nothing of religious import -- or the equivalent -- in the universe that exists independent of human consciousness. Moreover, there is no meaning or purpose not only intrinsic or extrinsic to the universe, there is no equivalent in human consciousness: there is nothing in your thought-life that impels you -- by force of law, rule or precept -- to think certain ways. You can, pretty much, do whatever you believe is right, meaningful and purposive. Ultimate meaning and purpose is up to you: the object of your adoration, worship or motivation is yours to create, and you need not even create a thing.

This, at least to me, is the materialist/atheist worldview in a nutshell. It is an idealism of mammoth proportions, for it only exists in the human mind and that mind is the only place it can ever exist.

And yet ...

I wonder if it's true? For I note that now that I've written down this great truth about the cosmos -- that no truth exists independent of the mind who creates or at least affirms it -- there seems to be some possibility -- however remote -- that the very act of communicating this truth -- by merely writing it down -- renders the truth false. The proposition "All minds find meaning on their own terms" appears to this writer as something quite like an absolute that transcends any individual mind, for it is meant to apply as the law of all minds. In other words, there is something extrinsic that binds humans together: Humans must create. There is no exception. You have no choice in the matter. And I communicate this to you: you do not find it for yourself.

That seems rather problematic.

Moreover, if I say that morality is always evolving, that an individual's personal ethics are shaped by the expectation of any social group in which an individual exists, I must admit that morality is absolutely always evolving, mustn't I? And if I admit that, then I must admit other absolutes, like what was once preferred is not now preferable; what was once good is now not; humans must change; standards are dynamic and never static. Of course there is something static, e.g., humanity, evolution, society (as a concept), and choice: humans (static) evolve (static) in society (static) willingly (static).

Have I, as I wrestle through all of this, merely mangled my arithmetic? If humans MUST create, then there is no choice; if humans evolve by willing to create, then choice is real. Irrespective of my apparent fallaciousness, the assumptions are meant absolutely: they are not created.

But none of this matters. What matters is that I do not see how to explain why a person believes what he or she does independent of that person's will. I can never, ever present a case for the truth of Christianity that could be described as irresistible. I think such a thing impossible. And I note that those who aim to discredit Christianity or theism cannot possibly argue from a position of absolute compulsion, either. There is nothing any of us can say to each other that can change another's heart. We believe, and belief is a choice.

Perhaps, then, a good question in debating another person about God's existence or non-existence is to ask what it is our interlocutor desires? What does he or she want to believe? What sort of universe do they want to accept? For if an atheist, for example, says to me that he wants his beliefs in the universe to conform to what the universe is as described and defined by science, then he is admitting that his beliefs come from outside him: he is saying that something that he did not create defines his beliefs: he can't help but submit to reason and the hard, brute facts afforded him by his senses and the scientific method. But surely this is utterly unhelpful, because now we are back where we started: we do not create meaning. Instead, the universe gives it to us -- and we submit. Absolutely. Or, so we should.

Have you ever been stymied by that person who tells you that all truth, logic and meaning are subjective, and then berates you for being a Christian, calling Christianity a "lie?" I sure have. And I am quick to note that if all truth is subjective, then, it follows that Christianity is -- at least for me -- one of those subjective truths. And if it is a subjective truth, then why is my subjectivist interlocutor critical of my choice? Or does his subjective quest for meaning include his right to be critical: he derives further meaning by berating my freely chosen worldview? How, pray tell, can my choice be wrong or even inferior? What, does it fail to correspond to some objective truth? What is that truth, how do we know it, and why are we discussing subjectivism if there is in fact an objective truth?

Such puzzles.

I am left, of course, nauseous, just like Mr. Sartre, as I consider these conundrums. But despite the nausea, I fight, nay, I WILL to believe in a universe that is fundamentally rooted in purpose, the purpose of love. I choose to believe in a universe that can and will answer our deepest questions; I choose to believe in a universe where all goodness, beauty, joy, bliss, art, genius, justice, laughter, music, color, taste -- and so many more lovely things -- are not crushed into oblivion. I choose to believe like Friedrich Nietzsche that suffering makes humanity heroic; and I believe with him that life is everlasting. But unlike that great atheist, I refuse to believe that human heroism ends in nothingness, crushed in the vast emptiness forever forsaken, cast into some unconscionable hell; nor do I believe that life recurs in some endless and vicious circularity, where we can live out our futility ad infinitum in Nietzsche's "Eternal Recurrence."

I recall once reading in The Boston Globe a review of the lovely film about Sts. Francis and Claire, "Brother Sun, Sister Moon." The capsule review, wherein the film was given one star, included this: "A film only a saint could love." I remember sneering at the reviewer's smug and ridiculous words. For latent in the remark was nothing but disdain for the holy. I retorted, "What sort of person would not want to be a saint? What sort of person gives the pursuit of holiness but one star?"

In a meaningless universe, where holiness means nothing, where love is but a dream and a whim, I protest with all due rebellion: "This is my pride -- to believe in a lie that is more beautiful than the truth! I shall be a saint!"

The empty universe does not deserve such a compliment.

Peace to you, this day, and forever.

BG

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

A Whole New Sort Of Rescue Dog

Marriage between a man and woman. So quaint. So old-fashioned. So "Christian."

I thank my "lucky stars" I was never given this sort of marital counsel.

I am quite certain the whole thing makes sense of Christian missionary commitments.

Peace.

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes.

Friday, November 09, 2007

Your Comments, Dinesh D'Souza, Atheism And Faith

There have been some great comments here of late, and I want to thank you all for that. Your input makes things far more interesting -- at least for me.

Recently I recommended a book to you all, and now that I have finished that book (last Saturday), I would like to recommend it again.

What's So Great About Christianity, written by Dinesh D'Souza, is superb. But I will guess that -- at least to some Christians -- the book's major flaw, if there is one, might be its title. For this is not so much a celebration of Christianity as most Christians might celebrate it. It is more a look at theism's contribution to Western culture. Yes, the emphasis is on Christian theism, but the case for theism in general is more aptly made. In other words, while Mr. D'Souza's work might edify lots of Christians by his excellent defense of the role Christianity has played in the world, his book might not convert people to follow Christ. Of course, I admit this is probably not Mr. D'Souza's intent. And I know that some skeptics will indeed find in this book answers to many or even all of their questions. This book is an excellent polemic; it is a great contribution to Christian apologetics. But this book is not a companion to, let's say, the Gospels; this is not a piece like Romano Guardini's amazing and MUST READ classic, The Lord. Nor is it really that much like C. S. Lewis' Mere Christianity. For both of these great works feel far more "churchy" or Christian than what Mr. D'Souza has given us. So, the book might very much edify and interest, but I don't see it as an integral part of a discipleship program. That, too, was not Mr. D'Souza's intent.

None of this, for me, detracts from Mr. D'Souza's book. What I particularly liked about What's So Great... is that Mr. D'Souza explores epistemology, with Immanuel Kant as his centerpiece. This, as I've said before, is an excellent thing: Kant is a great starting point. Mr. D'Souza makes very clear what Kant himself could only manage to write about in an abstruse manner. Kant (if I have this right) made a compelling case that we cannot know "things-in-themselves," we can only know our perceptions of things. For Kant, our senses even corrupt what we experience: I say a lemon tastes tart when in fact "tartness" is not a quality of the lemon, it is a quality of my experience of the lemon. My taste buds create tartness; from them, I infer a cause of that experience, namely the lemon. But I cannot know the lemon as it is; in fact, my senses prevent me from doing so. In sensing an object, all we can know is that we have sensation. We experience phenomena. But the cause of the phenomena -- the thing-in-itself -- we can't know.

But that is just part of the argument, and I must give Mr. D'Souza high marks for how he presents it, especially as it opens the mind to the idea that faith is foundational to all knowledge.

Pertinent to this is the quite interesting fact that no atheist seems to have refuted this argument -- ever. I have asked dozens, perhaps hundreds of atheists to reply to my "Letter to Christopher Hitchens." Not one has done so. My letter, too, as noted above, incorporates ideas gleaned from Immanuel Kant. To date, no atheist has expended any effort here to even debate it in any analytical way (except perhaps this comment by JW Haws). Granted, this does not mean it -- or Mr. D'Souza's argument -- is irrefutable. My piece may be so much fluff and bluster; I know that I have lots of blind spots in my psyche. But one would think that someone would rise up and dismiss what should be quite easy to debunk if, in fact, I have written fluff and bluster.† (I further note that no one has rebuffed the ideas presented in "Speaking In Parables," a short-story I penned in mid-September. I think some skeptic out there would have a counter-argument.)

Now, back to your comments for a moment. A recent comment in this D'Souza thread left by reader Luke Buckham has made me unsure of something I drafted. I wrote:

"most of D’Souza’s detractors will not read any or all of the book. Many, in fact, will not expend the requisite intellectual strength necessary to read the entire thing."

Luke Buckham responded thusly:

"I agree, totally. This is a big problem in our culture: most of ANYONE'S detractors don't bother to read the whole book. I vow to be an exception."

Now, I am flattered Luke agrees with me. But, for whatever reason, I heard something ironic in his words. I confess that I may have added the irony; Luke probably did not intend it.

What I am saying is that I am not sure I agree with myself. Admittedly I averred what I did about Mr. D'Souza's detractors' laziness merely to be provocative -- appealing even to readers' vanity and conceit ("Well, I have what it takes to read the whole thing!"). But that only can be defended so far. Why? Because I think a reader can critique parts of some collection as long as the critic does not assume the parts make up the whole. I can critique argument A if I've not read B -- but only as long as I am sure my interlocutor has conveyed that B has nothing to do with A, or vice versa. Critics do this frequently. Egads, I do this frequently. And, yes, sometimes I get it right. But sadly I also sometimes get it quite wrong: I commit the fallacy many critics commit. In fact, this fallacy is one of the most popular and pervasive fallacies. It is the fallacy that argues that one false part nullifies not only whole sets of arguments, one false part nullifies the totality of the person making the arguments. If Mr. Smith is wrong about X, well, he must not only be wrong about Y and Z, he's really wrong about everything!

Besides, not being critical in Part A while waiting for Part B can lead to absurdities. If I can't denounce Mr. D'Souza before I get to the end of his current book, then it should follow that I can't denounce him until he gets to his LAST book. After all, he might emend things later on; he might even change his mind in his next volume, and the next one after that. Surely I should wait until he is finally done?!

So, all this to say that I am not sure I really believe myself on this one point.

Have a great life!

†Other puff pieces can be found here and here.

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

On Christian Risk

Several weeks ago, while I was leading the adult Sunday School discussion in my church, a participant said a very interesting thing. We were in the midst of discussing Jesus' well-known "Parable of the Talents" found in Matthew's Gospel. Those of you familiar with this parable recall that three servants, each entrusted with money by their master who was leaving on adventures, did different things with what they were given. Two servants invested it without any prompts from their master; both doubled their wealth. The other servant, aware that his master reaped where he did not sow, took the one coin given him and buried it. In other words, the coin was not invested and he gained nothing.

The parable is powerful on a lot of levels. To me, everything hinges on the third servant's words:

'Master,' he said, 'I knew that you are a hard man, harvesting where you have not sown and gathering where you have not scattered seed. So I was afraid and went out and hid your talent in the ground. See, here is what belongs to you.'

Of course, the master -- who only moments before praised the first two servants for their fine work -- rebukes this hapless fellow, casting him out into the darkness. But note that the master does not -- in word -- disagree with the servant's description. The master says:

'You wicked, lazy servant! So you knew that I harvest where I have not sown and gather where I have not scattered seed? Well then, you should have put my money on deposit with the bankers, so that when I returned I would have received it back with interest.'

But let me back up. The parable begins with the notice that the master gave to his servants "each according to his ability." Fascinating. For this suggests that the master knew his servants well, that two were more capable than the third. Does this play into the parable, then? Should we expect the third servant to fail?

Perhaps. But, in part, he did not fail. He returned the one talent he was given; it was not lost. Afraid to lose either the talent or what he would have earned in the investment, the third servant literally proved competent in his trustworthiness, particularly since the parable mentions nothing about the master's wishes. The master merely entrusts his wealth to these men. And not one coin was lost.

But the third servant is not rebuked because he buried his coin. He is rebuked because he does not know his master; and he is not really telling the truth. Moreover, he is unwilling to lose what he might have earned.

"I knew you reaped where you did not sow," says the servant. Well, if that is true, then he would have done exactly what the other servants did -- he would have sowed for his master so that his master could reap what was not his to reap. After all, it was the servants who invested, not the master. But the third servant did not invest. Why? Was it because he did not want to lose what he would have gained, essentially saying to his master, "Master, you take what is not rightly yours?" Indeed, that seems to be the case. Hence the servant lies; he is really saying that he did not want to lose what would have been his wealth. So, fearful of losing everything, he buries the coin, intent on showing his master that things were safe and secure.

But what does the master show, not say, in his dealings with the third servant? He shows that he is NOT someone who sows where he does not reap; in fact, he is the opposite. For we see that he not only lets his first two servants keep their profits, he lets them keep their original coins! And, to show his generosity, he takes the one coin given to the third servant and gives it to the wealthiest of the three! In other words, the coins were always going to be the servants' -- but only on the condition that they truly understood who the master was and why the coins were given.†

Hence, to sum up: Those servants who took risks were rewarded, discovering that there was no risk at all; and he who refused to take a risk, lost everything. But, and here's the rub: the servant who lost everything did so because his failure to take a risk was the result of his misunderstanding the nature of the gift he was given and the giver who gave it to him.

OK. Forgive the Bible lesson. What I set out here to discuss was something someone said during class to what I essentially wrote above. This person said this: There is no risk at all in the Christian life. To which I said, "Really? Wow!"

What do you think? Is there no risk at all in following Christ? This week in Sunday School I led the discussion on the "Parable of the Good Samaritan." I was quick to note that the Samaritan took several profound risks helping a wounded man who was the victim of robbers who ambushed him on a treacherous road. Is the Samaritan representative of the Christian life? Is there much for which we can commend him if he did not face any risk at all? Where is Christian bravery and courage if there is no risk?

Or did my interlocutor mean something else, namely that there is no ultimate risk in the Christian life? But is this true? Does this not assume that we already know that everything we do will be approved by God, will be honored and praised and accepted?

Let me ask this as well: Is the Christian life worth living if it is filled with certainty? Is there any life worth living that is NOT an adventure? Does not risk give us our drive for excellence? Do we not need difficulties and obstacles to enrich our lives? Where would we be without risk? Would life not be the dullest thing without it?

I wonder.

Peace.

BG

†Admittedly, there is much more to say on all this. It seems likely, too, that the servants would've kept their gifts if they DID something -- anything -- with them. Imagine if the third servant reported to the master, "Master, I bought a needy family some food and clothes with what you had given." Would the master have rebuked him?

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Tuesday, November 06, 2007

On Sitting In Church, Squirming

I sat last Sunday in my seat at church looking for some way to feel comfortable. It was not the first time I've struggled to find even a semblance of peace for my body while sitting in a church, but it was the first time since I began attending -- about 4 months ago -- the local evangelical church that I was afflicted with the squirms and twitches.

In front of me sat a married couple I've known -- only casually -- for nearly twenty years. They were guests this particular Sunday morning, that much I knew, but it was what they said to me at the beginning of the service that set me on edge: they announced they were members of the Churches of Christ. This is not in any way a bad thing. In fact, it is as far as I know a good thing. But what makes the Churches of Christ unique is that they do not use musical instruments in any part of their worship or liturgical services. "We sing everything a cappella," the couple affirmed as we prepared for worship. The lovely couple also affirmed that their children -- all of whom I had known -- were indeed off and married, having graduated from Church of Christ colleges like Harding University (where their eldest son attended).

Now, trust me when I say this idea of "a cappella" singing attracts me to no end; trust me too when I say that the church in which we were seated was about as far from a cappella as one might get. There are on any given Sunday morning at least a dozen microphones on the stage in my current church, with amplifiers and keyboards and drums and guitars and flutes and cellos all raring to go. This network of electrified instruments and voices is what is known as the Praise Team; the team includes a Praise Leader who cues us as we sing a prolonged series of praise songs. As many of you know, this is fairly common stuff in evangelical churches these days; many of you also know that what my friends in front of me were about to explore was not going to be anything short of a G-rated rock concert. And for this Episcopalian-in-exile, as I call myself, I had been quite content adjusting myself to the Praise Team's rambunctious musicality, content right up until last Sunday morning when the a cappella couple sat in front of me.

Seriously, my first reaction was to want to apologize; my second was to look for two sets of earplugs. And my third reaction, honestly, was to pray for a power outage. But I mortified my flesh and chose option four: I squirmed and stewed and even left the sanctuary during the offertory. It was all rather juvenile of me.

But you see, the presence of this couple suddenly made me very self-conscious (or at least overly conscious of them). My pride and vanity were partly brought to the fore: I wanted to let everyone know that I was not overly given to this sort of exuberance in worship (which is quite true). And I was suddenly obsessing about hospitality; I was like a fool rushing around his house declaiming before his guests that his domicile was "not usually this messy." But I was a mute fool, unable to issue apologies because my guests were distracted by everything else, including their own courtesies.

And my obsession did not rest. I noted that it seemed the congregation was standing too long, singing too much. I noticed that the husband before me leaned on the back of the chair in front of him. "Oh, no! Is he tired?" I wondered. I noted how he and his wife looked around as others more familiar with protocol fell to their knees or sat down to pray while the Praise Band wound its way through another chorus. I swear the couple was asking, "Should we sit down? Should we kneel? When can we sit? When should we stand?" I wanted to be their own personal and certified Worship Guide: "Mr. and Mrs. Smith? How nice to meet you. This morning I will be your personal guide as we wend our way through worship. As you may have already seen, there is no bulletin or outline or form of liturgy here; after all, we must not thwart the Spirit. We are a country without maps where each of us citizens nevertheless moves about quite ably. I do hope you will enjoy this time with us. Now, if you will put in these earplugs and follow me, I will lead you safely away from this place."

OK. I would not have led them away. But I did feel a compulsion to intervene.

On top of all this I noticed that the Praise Band seemed unusually loud, unusually repetitive, and unusually and intolerably off-key. It was this last quality that forced me from my seat; I took refuge in the corner of the church kitchen as the offertory began. And believe it or not, as I stood in the corner with my forehead pressed against an overhead cabinet, a church elder came in to see if I was OK. (I am not lying about this.) I smiled, shrugged my shoulders, and simply said, "You know, K., how I struggle with things." I then made my way back to my seat.

The Churches of Christ folks I know have told me that part of the reason musical instruments are not included in worship services is that instruments can be a distraction. I should think my incessant squirming proves their point. But maybe it only proves that I am at times prone to spasmodic fits and catatonia, symptomatic, I am sure, of underlying mental illness.

Or are my fits consistent with hospitality: that people are freer when there is a set, prescribed and known order? Is it loving for a church to have its visitors guessing what worship -- or the structure and discipline of it -- is all about? Is it hospitable to have guests guess? Is it polite to give them no guidance, no frame of reference or sense of time? Would a dinner party be fun if no one knew what to wear, what to expect, what to say or when to say it; would it be fun if no one knew when the party might end?

When I think of the times I dined as a child at my neighbors' homes, I was never relaxed at those homes where I was unsure of the rules, of the protocols. Those families who patiently and kindly taught me their forms and rituals were always my favorite families with whom I would dine; where there was no guidance, I was adrift and often unsure whether the snickers and glances at table were directed at me. And in those homes where meals were served so informally there was no predictability at all, such homes were not one whit comfortable, as chaos and turmoil and even hell seemed just one misstep away.

I guess I will simply have to let go of it all when it comes to church. Besides, to my surprise, the couple in front of me did not sprint out once the benediction was given. Instead, they lingered for the better part of an hour, meeting people and plunging into conversations with a few folks they knew from outside the church's walls. To be honest, it is a very loving and comfortable church; there is much, very much, that commends it. I know this very well, and that is why I attend services there. So there were many good reasons for my friends to have lingered.

I, on other hand, ended worship in a struggle to understand my own problems. I am sure some of my issues are rooted in some perverse pride. But I know that there has got to be something to this idea of order and form and even quietude; there seems to be something wise in the ancient forms of hospitality.

All I know is I say these words here a cappella. And I pray that I do not become a distraction. Perhaps I always need to busy myself in the kitchen when surprise guests arrive; maybe squirming is my a cappella call to action, and retreat.

Peace.

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

On Books: HIGHLY Recommended

On this All Hallows' Eve, I shall make a prediction: Dinesh D’Souza’s latest book, What’s So Great About Christianity, will become a classic of Christian literature. And this glowing augury comes from someone who has so far only read half the book.

D’Souza’s book is the book I wish I had written. He strikes a perfect balance† between the lay and the semi-professional intellectual. The book’s only weakness is that it is too short: D’Souza could have spent more time fattening some of his arguments, though I am not suggesting that these arguments are anorexic. They might be just right and I am simply unable to see it. But I wish that some of the chapters were a little more substantial. (The bibliography and notes are certainly complete enough to satisfy the interests of more inquisitive readers.)

I promise you will be challenged and edified by this book. I think the book will set record sales numbers; I can see book groups springing up all around it. I urge you to get a copy and read it, and then tell your friends, and then blog about it. It surely deserves the broad and intense attention it will get. In fact, it deserves even more than that.

Oh. Another prediction: most of D’Souza’s detractors will not read any or all of the book. Many, in fact, will not expend the requisite intellectual strength necessary to read the entire thing.

Blessings and peace,

BG

†D'Souza also strikes a glorious balance between Protestant and Catholic expressions of Christian faith. Both sides in the Christian complex will find much to cheer about.

©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

On God Or No God

You may not agree with it, but I can't help but think you will find Avery Cardinal Dulles' essay, "God and Evolution," very engaging reading. It's too bad that it is not in book form; it would be nice to explore the ideas presented therein more completely. Read the whole thing (in other words, don't quit). Let me know what you think.

Blessings!

Gnade