December 2007


Theology and Culture12 Dec 2007 08:11 pm

“Aren’t these the false gods that Isaiah and Jeremiah confronted, the cults of the ‘hot air gods’? The gods that couldn’t scare birds from a cucumber patch?”

Such is the question posed by Curtis White, an English professor and cultural analyst, in an article entitled “Hot Air Gods” found in the most recent issue of “Harper’s” magazine. For White, “hot air gods” is a way of describing the anemic and impotent deities that result from unrestrained pluralism. In White’s view, enforced and indiscriminate pluralism has the potential to rob our creeds of their uniqueness and our deities of their scandalousness:

What reigns in our national spectacle is the pluralistic assumption that you have a right to your cockeyed belief and that it is something I am compelled to respect and even admire in you, even though what you believe may have very little to do with what I believe. Yahweh and Baal—my God and yours—stroll arm-in-arm, as if to do so were the model of virtue itself.

White goes on to make the point that an idolatry of pluralism also, ironically, opens the door to individualism, even isolationism:

There is an obvious problem with this form of spirituality: it takes place in isolation. Each of us sits at our computer terminal tapping out our convictions. It’s as if we were each our own foreign country.

In his most potent conclusion, White suggests that the only kind of orthodoxy that can thrive in the midst of such a theological climate is a pseudo-orthodoxy revolving around the core doctrines of pluralism, entitlement, and commodity:

It is difficult to avoid the conclusion that our truest belief is the credo of heresy itself. It is heresy without an orthodoxy. It is heresy AS an orthodoxy. The entitlement to belief is the right of each to his own heresy. Religious freedom has come to this: where everyone is free to believe whatever she likes, there is no real shared conviction at all, and hence no church and certainly no community…Our religious content soon becomes indistinguishable from our financial content and our entertainment content and our sports content…In short, belief becomes a culture-commodity. We shop among competing options for belief.

All of this may be a bit deeper than any of you wants to travel in the middle of a busy Advent. But, given all of blogosphere conversations about pluralism that I’ve encountered in the last couple of years, I found myself drawn to White’s subject matter. In particular, his analysis of the erosion of orthodoxy (however one may define it) in an effort to create the lowest spiritual common denominator seems spot on. We certainly struggle with this issue denominationally. My sense is that we also struggle with the issue in our effort to live as faithful Christ-followers in a culture that is also home to Jews, Muslims, Elvis-worshipers, and atheists.

Interestingly, the etymology of the word “pluralism” comes from a Latin root (”plur-”) which means “more.” Our current cultural and ecclesiastical pluralism, however, seems to mean “less.” More specifically, our current pluralism dares to say “give us less of your particularity, less of your unique doctrine, so that we might all get along without the hard work of understanding and appreciating our distinctiveness.”

As a result, there is the widespread temptation to reduce the Sovereign Creator of heaven and earth to a hot air god with very little to say or do. Similarly, we may find ourselves inclined to overlook the scandal of particularity in favor of the more general platitudes that everyone with common sense would find palatable.

Personally, I long for a different kind of pluralism—one that will allow me to love and appreciate my Muslim and atheistic neighbors while at the same time proclaiming “Merry Christmas” and “Jesus is Lord.”

Biblical Impact10 Dec 2007 03:55 pm

Last weekend’s lectionary text from Isaiah continues to haunt me. It is a powerfully prophetic moment in Scripture in which Isaiah describes the radical and supernatural peace that the Root of Jesse will make possible when he comes:

The wolf shall live with the lamb,
the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall graze,
their young shall lie down together,
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain.

Isaiah 11:6-9

These exaggerated images, of course, are the prophet’s wonderfully poetic and imaginative way of making the point that the Root of Jesse will usher in a kingdom of peace, the likes of which the world has never known. So dramatic will this peace be, says Isaiah, that the creatures who have traditionally been violent enemies in the food chain will graze, play, and lie down with one another. Such is the prophetic vision of peace given to Isaiah concerning the impact of the Messiah on world that is often violent and fractured.

On Saturday and Sunday, I preached this Scripture. Now I’m compelled to live it (which, of course, is always much more challenging, isn’t it?).

My tendency, I’m afraid, is to reduce the issue of peace to an unattainable and esoteric philosophical ideal—one that is fun to discuss among the enlightened and the erudite, but impossible to achieve in any significant fashion. This Advent, I am praying that God will deliver me from this tendency, so that, rather than simply philosophizing about peace, I might instead become an intentional peacemaker in my little corner of the world for the cause of the Root of Jesse and the kingdom that he came into the world to inaugurate.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. More specifically, Lord, make me an instrument of your peace in the church, in the grocery store, in the Banana Republic (among all of the other Christmas shoppers), in the blogosphere, and behind the wheel of my car.

Peace, brothers and sisters.

Sacramental Theology and Theology04 Dec 2007 06:01 pm

I recently read a compelling and disturbing article written by William Schweiker entitled “Baptism by Torture.” The entire article can be found here.

In the article, Schweiker sheds important light on the torture technique known as “waterboarding.” Waterboarding might be defined as simulated drowning forced upon a person for the purpose of obtaining information. In waterboarding, an individual is immobilized on his or her back while water is poured over his or her face, thereby causing the inhalation of water into the lungs. Schweiker is particularly interested in the intersection between baptismal theology and water torture throughout the history of the church:

Roman Catholics and Protestants alike persecuted the Anabaptists or ‘re-baptizers’ since these people denied infant baptism in favor of adult baptism. The use of torture and physical abuse was meant to stem the movement and also to bring salvation to heretics. It had been held—at least since St. Augustine—that punishment, even lethal in form, could be an act of mercy meant to keep a sinner from continuing in sin, either by repentance of heresy or by death. King Ferdinand declared that drowning—called the third baptism—was a suitable response to Anabaptists. Water as a form of torture was an inversion of the waters of baptism under the (grotesque) belief that it could deliver the heretic from his or her sins.

When I reflect upon the kind of theological misapplication that would lead people of faith to assign an almost sacramental identity to a particular form of torture, it becomes tempting for me to believe that the shared acumen of contemporary disciples would prevent them from ever accommodating such a primitive sacramentological distortion. After all, these days we are far too theologically advanced to mistreat and misapply the sacred.

Aren’t we?

How many times have I nurtured a secret prayer in my heart—”Lord, remove this negative and trouble-making parishioner from MY church”"—thereby reducing the sacred mystery of prayer to a spiritual hit-list?

How many times have I sat in worship with a critical spirit—”I would have preached that text from a much more creative angle!”—thereby reducing the sacred environment of worship to a reinforcement of my own proclivities and preconceived notions?

How many times have I smugly complained about various blog conversations—”Oh no! Not another discourse on the merits or dangers of contemporary worship!”—thereby reducing a potentially sacred dialogue between Christian brothers and sisters to an occasion for cynicism.

How many times have I had something other than the love of Christ in my heart as I shared the bread and cup with my people, thereby reducing Eucharist to a crass remembrance of who my “favorites” are?

If I ponder these questions honestly, I can come to only one conclusion: The impulse that once led the church to link the baptismal water with the water of torture is still at work within me. It is the impulse to distort the sacred for the purpose of justifying our own behavior and our own presuppositions. If left unchecked, this impulse can still lead to horrific theological reductions and heartbreaking patterns of behavior.

Forgive me if this post seems too personal and too confessional. But, then again, it is Advent. Repentance, I suppose, is somewhere very close to the heart of this holy season.

Thanks for being there.

Liturgical Calendar01 Dec 2007 03:51 pm

I don’t know how you look upon the season of Advent. Personally, I have come to view Advent as a season in which to wake up, spiritually speaking.

Some will occasionally say to me, “Why do we need a season like Advent? Shouldn’t we be waking ourselves up spiritually every day?”

Of course we should. But we don’t, do we? We allow ourselves to become sleepy in our walk with Christ. We allow ourselves to become drowsy in our apathy toward the Kingdom and its ministry in the world.

Therein lies the blessing of the liturgical calendar—a calendar in which chronos is measured by kairos and in which the passing of time is framed by the life, death, and resurrection of our Lord. A season like Advent affords to us a unique opportunity to open our spiritual eyes and to come out of our drowsiness, so that, by the time Christmas arrives, we will be fully prepared to receive and accommodate Jesus Christ, the Light of the World, who comes to us afresh.

Given what I’ve just written, you can imagine how deeply the following portion of Scripture resonates in my soul:

You know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers. The night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. (Romans 13:11-12).

Blessings upon your celebration of this potential-rich season. Make yourselves available to the living presence of the One whose coming we anticipate. Lay aside in repentance whatever works of darkness are preventing him from having complete access to your life and your soul.

And, above all……………………..WAKE UP!