[Note: Since I attempted to be clever in this essay by using double-negatives, I ended up confusing myself and making a mistake. The mistake -- failing to create a double negative where needed -- has been corrected. If some of you read this and said, "What the-?", well, now you just have to say, "Huh?"]
I turned to the atheist next to me and asked if he ever thought in anything other than negation. He said he did not.
I've decided that an essay on atheism is all wrong. There are starting points that offend my pretensions, everyone being smarter than I. Irrespective of my ever-maturing idiocy, I've convinced myself that the starting point for a theist is always a positive - God. I've even noticed that the starting point for a theist is a positive predicate - God is. In contrast, the atheist is forever chained to negation; the atheist can only say that God is not, or that there is no God. The atheist cannot, however, tell you what is; there is no affirmation offered that is not mere subjective whim, mere preference or pet-interest.
But if the atheist is right, my theism is really the denial, the negation. Yet I protest that I do not know what it is I am negating: I assert there is something rather than nothing. I am not saying -- am I? -- that God is not non-existent, nor am I negating some principle common to atheism. Perhaps I must content myself with being a non-atheist, with atheism, of course, being some form of positive position. I can't deny then that my non-atheism is an abuse of the positive positions of atheism, those jolly positions I often hear described as bursting with "alacrity" and optimism and liberty. (Indeed, I really can't deny that I am thoroughly abusive of these notions.)
All this the wind tells me is so much nonsense. I hear squirrels chattering more sanity, even when cats wait nearby. The atheist cannot tell me what is but only what isn't. An atheist's negation of my affirmation of theism is a bit like zero telling 1 that multiplication is a fantasy. And it is fantasy, if you embrace nothing. But the atheist recoils at this, shouting, I don't embrace nothing! If one listens for but a moment one hears what the atheist so passionately and earnestly embraces -- beauty, truth, love, progress, posterity, science. In fact the atheist, being incredibly zealous for his ideals, won't take long to dispel the annoying rumors of nihilism preventing him from enjoying his favorite peace. But point out to him that his creed is filled with ideals that hold no objective compulsion -- that his ideals are unique to him and his subjectivity -- and you will hear more bluster than a creationist sacked by a gang of Darwinists. Then add to the punch the obvious -- that if all truth is subjective and theism is one of those subjectively held truths (in a godless world) -- it thus follows that one man's atheism is no advantage over another's theism. If there is nothing but negation and subjectivism; if there is nothing absolute, then what can an atheist say to that man who knows there is no God and yet to spite the very universe believes in God anyway, comforted and compelled in his theism by the atheist's primary convictions, e.g. all truth is subjective and headed for oblivion? Why should an atheist enamored of subjectivism care at all that there are Christians, or other subjective theists, in a world rushing toward the void? We all share the same fate -- annihilation. Then what could possibly induce an atheist to expend one moment decrying theism when nothing he can offer and nothing he believes can save anything?
How odd that the zeros should care so much.
But, as I said, I am the dope in this room. Outside the door? The waiting, crushing abyss.
Peace.
©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.
Showing posts with label Subjectivism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Subjectivism. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
On Christology: The Reformation Of The Episcopal Church
I am in all things apostate; it seems I am unable to conform myself to this new Christian world, or to renew my mind in the holy waters of the most popular baptisms. The Christ I find in church no longer speaks my name, nor do I recognize his voice. I am indeed a sheep of a different fold.
Whose voice is this that I hear in the opening remarks of an epistle calling the faithful to live a holy Lent? Is it really the voice of the Christian Savior, the Shepherd of the Church?
Here's A Second Call To A Holy Lent
Dear sisters and brothers in Christ,
I write this during the season of Epiphany, that season of the church year in which we remember the extraordinary ways that God showed up in the life of Jesus, convincing those around him that God dwelt in him in such powerful ways that he not only was like God, but that he was God. But by the time you read this, we will be in the season of Lent...
Christianity is fraught with mysteries, beautiful and hallowed mysteries that tremble with paradox. Perhaps the grandest of these mysteries is the Incarnation, the awesome dogma that Jesus the Christ is fully God and fully man, totally and simultaneously; possessing two natures in One dynamic symmetry, eternal and preexistent, and forever inseparable. The very dogma of the Incarnation is in fact so mysterious -- eluding most of our cleverest categories and schemata -- that it can hardly avoid being the very epicenter of heresy. When Jesus asks his disciples, "Who do men say that I am?" it is a question of great ontological import; it is not a mere query about perceptions but about ontological identity, the very substance of Christ's nature. "Thou art Christ, the Son of the living God," St. Peter declares. But his simple declaration is not so simple, or so clear, for heresies spring from this mystery like swine off a cliff.
Should it at all disturb me that the prefatory remarks about Christ in the aforementioned Lenten epistle are penned by the Episcopal Bishop of New Hampshire, the Right Reverend V. Gene Robinson? Should I wonder at the implausibility of it all, that a bishop of the Christian Church could even suggest that God merely "convinced" people that Jesus was so much like God that he was God? Should I stumble over language suggesting the Incarnation is merely God "showing up" in the life of Jesus?
What to do with this casual reductionism, this grotesque informality: For God so loved the world that he "showed" up in a man and convinced everyone that he was God!
Perhaps the first thing I should do is announce that I am now the de facto Bishop of New Hampshire -- by default -- for the current bishop cannot be taken seriously any longer and should be defrocked. Alas, I cannot make such an announcement. I am not fit for the bishop's chair, nor am I any longer fit for the Kingdom this current bishop represents. I cast myself outside, where I shall wait in vain for the shepherd to leave the ninety-nine to look for me, to call my name.
He is too busy with "Dialogue", the spirit ruling the new church, to make such a call.
________________
The House Of Bishops Speaks
As some of you may know, the crisis in the Anglican Communion that reached flashpoint in the 2003 consecration of Christendom's first openly gay bishop, V. Gene Robinson, has now reached the breaking point. Last week, The Episcopal Church leadership, the House of Bishops, responded to recommendations offered by a council of Anglican primates by politely rejecting those recommendations. It is by all accounts a bold and honest position to take: The Episcopal Church of the United States -- of which I am a member -- has decided, if it must, to exist unto itself, though it does so with lofty, even nostalgic language regarding unity, fellowship and the church's great feelings of catholic affection for the body of Christ.
"We affirm once again the deep longing of our hearts for The Episcopal Church to continue as a part of the Anglican Communion…What is important to us is that The Episcopal Church is a constituent member of a family of Churches…That membership gives us the great privilege and unique opportunity of sharing in the family's work of alleviating human suffering in all parts of the world… we are aware as never before that our Anglican Communion partners are vital to our very integrity as Christians and our wholeness. The witness of their faith, their generosity, their bravery, and their devotion teach us essential elements of gospel-based living that contribute to our conversion.
"We would therefore meet any decision to exclude us from gatherings of all Anglican Churches with great sorrow, but our commitment to our membership in the Anglican Communion as a way to participate in the alleviation of suffering and restoration of God's creation would remain constant."
It is impossible to deny the sincerity and earnestness of the American episcopacy as they face being ousted from the Anglican Communion. There is indeed a softness of heart that almost sounds contrite. But when we come to the substance of the American apology we discover something utterly stunning.
Up until the very hour of V. Gene Robinson's consecration in November 2003, we heard of sweeping change in the Church: The Holy Spirit was "doing a great and new thing", opening once-blind hearts and eyes to the "authenticity of gay and lesbian personhood", shattering traditions that would define things otherwise, clarifying long-misunderstood passages of scripture used to bolster homophobia and exclusion. "God is still speaking," we were told by advocates of God's great reforms. In November 2003, the Episcopal Church of the United States was rife with change, with reform, pulsating with the Holy Spirit's renewing leadership. The Episcopal Church was inspired: This is who we are! proclaimed the Church as it identified itself as the liberator of all those trapped by sexual discrimination rooted in tradition and archaic hermeneutics.
But now, in the very hour in which my once-beloved church finds itself on the threshold of excommunication (of a sort), the very Church that encouraged the rejection of tradition now, in its own defense, invokes tradition to maintain its authority. In response to myriad calls that the Episcopal Church approve "primatial oversight," a sort of open-borders policy where conservative bishops from outside America could guide parishes within The Episcopal Church that reject the liberalizing of the American church, the American bishops have found a new defense: Tradition does not permit the American church to share leadership with outsiders. Suddenly and inexplicably the Church has found tradition authoritative and binding. Moreover, in November 2003, when the Church was re-interpreting sundry Biblical passages using a new hermeneutic, calling certain anti-homosexual passages "dated" or "anachronistic," the Church now finds certain passages in its preamble and its prayer book conveniently static and absolute. There is no new hermeneutic here.
Surely we all should find this sort of elasticity rather stunning. And surely we can call such convenient elasticity what it is: duplicity.
But no matter how sincere The Episcopal Church may sound in its grave regrets that people have taken offense at its liberating mission, its recalcitrance in the face of international pressure leaves many observant parishioners shaking their incredulous heads. The Episcopal Church, in a fit of ironic projection, is suggesting that the Anglican Communion is guilty of a form of colonialism: the Communion is behaving a bit like a surly king intent on keeping his colonies in line with the royal will (thanks Jordan Hylden). The irony, of course, is that the American Church is the one acting imperialistically, intent on pushing its expansive compassions on the rest of the world. Or am I wrong about this?
If I am wrong, then how should I explain Bishop Robinson's own summary of the American episcopacy's rejection of the Primate's recommendations? Do these sentences of his declare that The Episcopal Church sees itself as a misunderstood victim, or as something else?
"While we cannot know what the reaction will be to these statements throughout the Communion, we must be who we are – the Church struggling to live out faithfully the ministry God has given us in this place and time. Like many great reformers before us, 'Here we must stand. We can do no other.'” [emphasis added]
Ah-hah! Now we see! The Episcopal Church of America is the Great Reformer of Anglicanism! It does not at all intend to comply with what it sees as error. Bishop Robinson represents the "true Church" led by the Holy Spirit toward a "broader" Kingdom. Hence, The Episcopal Church is not the threatened, but the threat -- a threat to oppressions, many and abominable, and the legion errors that justify those oppressions. The Episcopal Church is the reforming force in the Anglican Communion; it is being faithful to the "ministry God has given" the Church "in this place and time."
Reforming is EXACTLY the word.
________________
The Most Damning Statement
In the House of Bishops' statement submitted to the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Primates' Standing Committee, we find a clue about the current state of church affairs. It is what I have repeatedly called the flight into subjectivity; I have warned elsewhere that such subjectivity is relentlessly manipulative, and that it breeds spiritual doubt -- Are you truly spirit-led? -- and even spiritual competitiveness -- Do you hear God as well as I? Subjectivity is a powerful and alluring force, and it ruins many a relationship within God's kingdom.
Read this stunner by the American House of Bishops as it defends its recent actions:
"It is incumbent upon us as disciples to do our best to follow Jesus in the increasing experience of the leading of the Holy Spirit." [emphasis added]
Note the language -- "the increasing experience of the leading of the Holy Spirit." Is there anything more disheartening, even more deadening, than this? And is there anything more licentious?
If ever there was a time we needed God to free us from these reformers, it is now.
Peace.
©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.
Whose voice is this that I hear in the opening remarks of an epistle calling the faithful to live a holy Lent? Is it really the voice of the Christian Savior, the Shepherd of the Church?
Here's A Second Call To A Holy Lent
Dear sisters and brothers in Christ,
I write this during the season of Epiphany, that season of the church year in which we remember the extraordinary ways that God showed up in the life of Jesus, convincing those around him that God dwelt in him in such powerful ways that he not only was like God, but that he was God. But by the time you read this, we will be in the season of Lent...
Christianity is fraught with mysteries, beautiful and hallowed mysteries that tremble with paradox. Perhaps the grandest of these mysteries is the Incarnation, the awesome dogma that Jesus the Christ is fully God and fully man, totally and simultaneously; possessing two natures in One dynamic symmetry, eternal and preexistent, and forever inseparable. The very dogma of the Incarnation is in fact so mysterious -- eluding most of our cleverest categories and schemata -- that it can hardly avoid being the very epicenter of heresy. When Jesus asks his disciples, "Who do men say that I am?" it is a question of great ontological import; it is not a mere query about perceptions but about ontological identity, the very substance of Christ's nature. "Thou art Christ, the Son of the living God," St. Peter declares. But his simple declaration is not so simple, or so clear, for heresies spring from this mystery like swine off a cliff.
Should it at all disturb me that the prefatory remarks about Christ in the aforementioned Lenten epistle are penned by the Episcopal Bishop of New Hampshire, the Right Reverend V. Gene Robinson? Should I wonder at the implausibility of it all, that a bishop of the Christian Church could even suggest that God merely "convinced" people that Jesus was so much like God that he was God? Should I stumble over language suggesting the Incarnation is merely God "showing up" in the life of Jesus?
What to do with this casual reductionism, this grotesque informality: For God so loved the world that he "showed" up in a man and convinced everyone that he was God!
Perhaps the first thing I should do is announce that I am now the de facto Bishop of New Hampshire -- by default -- for the current bishop cannot be taken seriously any longer and should be defrocked. Alas, I cannot make such an announcement. I am not fit for the bishop's chair, nor am I any longer fit for the Kingdom this current bishop represents. I cast myself outside, where I shall wait in vain for the shepherd to leave the ninety-nine to look for me, to call my name.
He is too busy with "Dialogue", the spirit ruling the new church, to make such a call.
________________
The House Of Bishops Speaks
As some of you may know, the crisis in the Anglican Communion that reached flashpoint in the 2003 consecration of Christendom's first openly gay bishop, V. Gene Robinson, has now reached the breaking point. Last week, The Episcopal Church leadership, the House of Bishops, responded to recommendations offered by a council of Anglican primates by politely rejecting those recommendations. It is by all accounts a bold and honest position to take: The Episcopal Church of the United States -- of which I am a member -- has decided, if it must, to exist unto itself, though it does so with lofty, even nostalgic language regarding unity, fellowship and the church's great feelings of catholic affection for the body of Christ.
"We affirm once again the deep longing of our hearts for The Episcopal Church to continue as a part of the Anglican Communion…What is important to us is that The Episcopal Church is a constituent member of a family of Churches…That membership gives us the great privilege and unique opportunity of sharing in the family's work of alleviating human suffering in all parts of the world… we are aware as never before that our Anglican Communion partners are vital to our very integrity as Christians and our wholeness. The witness of their faith, their generosity, their bravery, and their devotion teach us essential elements of gospel-based living that contribute to our conversion.
"We would therefore meet any decision to exclude us from gatherings of all Anglican Churches with great sorrow, but our commitment to our membership in the Anglican Communion as a way to participate in the alleviation of suffering and restoration of God's creation would remain constant."
It is impossible to deny the sincerity and earnestness of the American episcopacy as they face being ousted from the Anglican Communion. There is indeed a softness of heart that almost sounds contrite. But when we come to the substance of the American apology we discover something utterly stunning.
Up until the very hour of V. Gene Robinson's consecration in November 2003, we heard of sweeping change in the Church: The Holy Spirit was "doing a great and new thing", opening once-blind hearts and eyes to the "authenticity of gay and lesbian personhood", shattering traditions that would define things otherwise, clarifying long-misunderstood passages of scripture used to bolster homophobia and exclusion. "God is still speaking," we were told by advocates of God's great reforms. In November 2003, the Episcopal Church of the United States was rife with change, with reform, pulsating with the Holy Spirit's renewing leadership. The Episcopal Church was inspired: This is who we are! proclaimed the Church as it identified itself as the liberator of all those trapped by sexual discrimination rooted in tradition and archaic hermeneutics.
But now, in the very hour in which my once-beloved church finds itself on the threshold of excommunication (of a sort), the very Church that encouraged the rejection of tradition now, in its own defense, invokes tradition to maintain its authority. In response to myriad calls that the Episcopal Church approve "primatial oversight," a sort of open-borders policy where conservative bishops from outside America could guide parishes within The Episcopal Church that reject the liberalizing of the American church, the American bishops have found a new defense: Tradition does not permit the American church to share leadership with outsiders. Suddenly and inexplicably the Church has found tradition authoritative and binding. Moreover, in November 2003, when the Church was re-interpreting sundry Biblical passages using a new hermeneutic, calling certain anti-homosexual passages "dated" or "anachronistic," the Church now finds certain passages in its preamble and its prayer book conveniently static and absolute. There is no new hermeneutic here.
Surely we all should find this sort of elasticity rather stunning. And surely we can call such convenient elasticity what it is: duplicity.
But no matter how sincere The Episcopal Church may sound in its grave regrets that people have taken offense at its liberating mission, its recalcitrance in the face of international pressure leaves many observant parishioners shaking their incredulous heads. The Episcopal Church, in a fit of ironic projection, is suggesting that the Anglican Communion is guilty of a form of colonialism: the Communion is behaving a bit like a surly king intent on keeping his colonies in line with the royal will (thanks Jordan Hylden). The irony, of course, is that the American Church is the one acting imperialistically, intent on pushing its expansive compassions on the rest of the world. Or am I wrong about this?
If I am wrong, then how should I explain Bishop Robinson's own summary of the American episcopacy's rejection of the Primate's recommendations? Do these sentences of his declare that The Episcopal Church sees itself as a misunderstood victim, or as something else?
"While we cannot know what the reaction will be to these statements throughout the Communion, we must be who we are – the Church struggling to live out faithfully the ministry God has given us in this place and time. Like many great reformers before us, 'Here we must stand. We can do no other.'” [emphasis added]
Ah-hah! Now we see! The Episcopal Church of America is the Great Reformer of Anglicanism! It does not at all intend to comply with what it sees as error. Bishop Robinson represents the "true Church" led by the Holy Spirit toward a "broader" Kingdom. Hence, The Episcopal Church is not the threatened, but the threat -- a threat to oppressions, many and abominable, and the legion errors that justify those oppressions. The Episcopal Church is the reforming force in the Anglican Communion; it is being faithful to the "ministry God has given" the Church "in this place and time."
Reforming is EXACTLY the word.
________________
The Most Damning Statement
In the House of Bishops' statement submitted to the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Primates' Standing Committee, we find a clue about the current state of church affairs. It is what I have repeatedly called the flight into subjectivity; I have warned elsewhere that such subjectivity is relentlessly manipulative, and that it breeds spiritual doubt -- Are you truly spirit-led? -- and even spiritual competitiveness -- Do you hear God as well as I? Subjectivity is a powerful and alluring force, and it ruins many a relationship within God's kingdom.
Read this stunner by the American House of Bishops as it defends its recent actions:
"It is incumbent upon us as disciples to do our best to follow Jesus in the increasing experience of the leading of the Holy Spirit." [emphasis added]
Note the language -- "the increasing experience of the leading of the Holy Spirit." Is there anything more disheartening, even more deadening, than this? And is there anything more licentious?
If ever there was a time we needed God to free us from these reformers, it is now.
Peace.
©Bill Gnade 2007/Contratimes. All Rights Reserved.
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