Now we arrive at the heart of my argument, or at least what I hope will be the heart of my argument.
The greatest problem in the Church, and especially in theology, is that it refuses to evolve. I don't mean to suggest the Church ought to radically alter its stance or go the way of popular opinion. The Church does need to have a position, and it needs to be an anchor of sorts for Christians. Truth, as we understand it, does not change, which is something the Church very much holds on to.
But therein lies the problem. I don't mean we need to take a "survival of the fittest" approach to intellectual or spiritual ventures, but we need to be flexible. It is incredibly arrogant to assume that we know all truth, in the first place, and in the second, if we actually wish to learn the truth, we must be open to it. As society is evolving, so is our understanding of the world. Something like the concept of "two natures, one person" or "three persons, one nature" may have made sense to ancient Christians, but it means nothing to us today, while on the other hand we have a much more expansive understanding of the universe than did first-century Christians.
Of course here we have an obvious conflict. On one hand, Christianity must be based in something, in a faith in Jesus of Nazareth as Lord and Savior that has existed for nearly 2000 years. On the other hand, we cannot hold onto this faith blindly and dismiss all other facts about the world we live in. Some men and women, especially in the sciences, hold these two things in tension somehow, but there is something truly disingenuous about believing on Sunday that the world was built in seven days only a few thousand years ago and believing the rest of the week that the universe is billions of years old.
It is my opinion that Christianity needs to do two things: First, it needs to re-evaluate its tenets of faith and decide which doctrines and dogmas are really necessary to be "Christian" and which are merely appendages. This should be done with real seriousness and an attempt to root out any dogma that stands as purely polemic. Second, Christianity needs to find a way to incorporate our new understanding of truth in a way that is meaningful and life-giving.
I think most Christian dogmas are appendages. Even the Chalcedonian Creed (Nicaean Creed) has superfluous material in it, including "consubstantial with the Father." We need a bare-bones set of doctrines which will probably include the Incarnation, the moral truth of the Bible, the virgin birth, and probably a few other things. We will have to work hard to take out needless dogmas like the infallibility of the pope or even apostolic succession.
Then, we will have the more difficult task of integrating our newer understandings of the world into this faith. Of course faith includes things such as miracles, so understanding biology does not negate God's ability to be made flesh through a virgin. However, we can understand the universe as created by God over time, and the creation of humans as being a process of evolution. We can understand our biological drives and instincts as natural and God-given while insisting that Christians need to live to a higher standard of living.
Better yet, we can finally fully integrate a notion of God's created goodness that requires our care in environmental ethics. We can understand that sex not simply biological, but also psychological and spiritual. We can understand our place in the universe as unique, since we are the only intelligent beings we are aware of within the vastness of the universe.
We need to evolve as a faith. At this time in our history, the main focus of Christian leaders seems to be in disagreeing with each other over whether we're persecuting the marginalized enough, following the naturalistic fallacy enough, or reciting the awkward English translation of a Latin rite correctly. The aspects of our faith that were supposed to be nurturing and life-giving have become a source of conflict, and the main Christian theme of meekness and humility is nowhere to be seen. Nuns are being condemned for performing the works of mercy, bishops are preaching against the right for two people to marry and nobody is taking responsibility for the real sin of child abuse. There is very little that is Christian going on within the Catholic Church, and many Protestant churches are just as bad.
Imagine, then, if we admitted that the beatitudes are more important than Augustine's "Let Nuns Go Out in Groups of Three," or that the love command had priority over Row v Wade. It seems that Christianity is either maintaining a neutral or a negative influence on society--there is not much done in terms of love or mercy or kindness, but much done in the way of argumentation and strife. Jesus commands us to build up the Kingdom of God, but at this time, it seems like the Kingdom will have to wait for Jesus' return. As long as we are stuck in the old dogmas of the past, we cannot embrace the true essence of Christianity.
But, dear reader, don't believe that this is only a case of the corrupt hierarchy vs the enlightened faithful. If I have learned anything over the last two years while studying theology, it is that theologians are often times the least Christian people in the Church. I am probably as guilty of this as any, but I have noticed so many times that professors who teach theology are often less inclined to be merciful and more inclined to try to force your own belief than any other professor.
With this I leave you with my own conundrum, which I believe is relevant to all the faithful (though I say that with a sense of the irony of such a proud statement). I am to be starting my PhD in ethics in a few months. At this point in my life, however, I am not sure if I want to be involved in the largely un-Christian enterprise that is studying theology. I am afraid that I will lose faith as I continue to study and find fewer and fewer true Christians as colleagues. I am afraid that I will become discouraged and bitter, and that I will become obsessed with asserting my own voice over finding the truth. Indeed, I can see that I do that now. But this is much like the task required of Christians in helping the Church evolve. It may be easier to maintain one's true Christian identity by avoiding the arguments and disputes that surround Christianity today, but at the same time, the Church needs people who are willing to stand as voices.
I do not offer you a solution to this problem here. I merely pose it to you, the reader. Do you stay in the Church to make a difference while risking the corrosive effects of intellectual and spiritual battle with your fellow Christians, or do you abandon the Church in order to avoid the seemingly unimportant conflict and miss an opportunity to make a difference for the better?
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Nostri Patri?
So, I must admit, I failed my expectations for the weekend. Fortunately, however, I *might* be done with my thesis, so all is not lost. I am going to try, though, to finish the 3 posts I promised. So this is post number 2.
In my last post, I suggested that there is a lot in theology that is untenable. If it does not help people pastorally or ethically, and preferably in both ways, then it is rather useless for religion. This does not mean we should just do away with anything we think is extra, as many parts of religion (for example, vestments, hymns, incense and liturgies, etc) have powerful effects on people pastorally. We do have to consider, however, whether this is the case for any given issue. For example, after Vatican II, most religious sisters were no longer required to wear habits, and now most in the Western world do not. However, in Asian and African countries, many sisters still wear habits, as it is understood and perceived differently in these cultures.
To continue along this line of thinking, however, I want to bring into question the entirety of the Patristics period. I have known many professors and students alike who hold strongly to the early Fathers. After all, it seems, these men established the ground rules for theology. In fact, during the Reformation, John Calvin and Martin Luther largely drew from Augustine's thought rather than the more comprehensive Thomas Aquinas or any other Medieval theologian.
Don't get me wrong here. I don't doubt the impact that the early Church Fathers had. If nothing else, I can appreciate how much they contributed to Christian understandings of, well, just about everything. However, this is what makes me quite nervous. The names of Jerome, Augustine, Athanasius, Gregory of Nissa, Gregory Naziansus, John Chrysostom, Origen and others are almost untouchable. We can't call anything they say into question or we seem like bad Christians. But I am right now calling this into question. Allow me to explain why.
In the first place, they introduced into Christianity a lot of Hellenistic thought, particularly of a Platonic nature. This is not necessarily bad, but it led to a lot of confusion and intellectual acrobatics. The Semitic tradition of Palestine did not require a Platonic understanding of the world to work. The Platonic view of God tends to be utterly transcendent, omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent, and profoundly other. The Biblical view of God tends to be much more personal and relational. The entire Bible can be read as a story of the developing relationship of this God YHWH and the people he creates and develops a loving relationship with. It is a profound love story that has given countless millions hope in this life when none other was there. Contrast this with the Platonic God who is so utterly other that, as St Thomas says, we can only say anything is like God by analogy and not by any degree of reality. This creates the great problem of trying to resolve the apparent contradictions of the Bible, a book written by Jews in the Palestine region, with a Greek understanding of the Ultimate. The two are not compatible because they were never meant to be. The Biblical understanding of God was not oriented at informing Greek philosophers just as Plato (despite what Origen thinks) was not trying to introduce Semitic Monotheism into Greek culture.
Now, don't get me wrong. I think we can understand Christianity better using other subjects of knowledge. I appreciate theologians who incorporate psychology, sociology, evolution and other sciences into their theology, and I owe a lot to St Thomas' combination of Aristotelian ethics with Christianity. However, the Patristics took it all a step further. Rather than using Plato's philosophy as a tool for theology, they tried to force an unhappy marriage between the two. Thus, we get the Christological controversy.
I cannot stand the Christological debates of the third through fifth centuries in the least. These were the great debates where the best minds in the theological world tried to define God. Out of these debates we get the Trinitarian "formula" and the conception of two natures within the person of Jesus. Words like "hypostatis," "prosopon," "physis," "natura," "ousious," "sarx," and "anima" were thrown around like candy at a parade. If none of those words meant anything to you, don't worry. Often times people were condemned for getting these ideas wrong, or putting them in the wrong order. If you want to be a good, orthodox Christian, you have to say that Jesus is 1 ousious with the Father, the Trinity is 3 prosopa but 1 natura, Jesus has 2 physeis but is 1 prosopon, and Jesus has a fully human sarx, anima, and logos which is combined but not mixed with his divine natura and logos. If you missed one of these apparently vitally important notions, congratulations, you're condemned for the next 1600 years as a heretic.
I have four big reasons for why I don't like the Christological controversy. 1) It's extremely arrogant. It seems rather stupid to condemn others for not believing God to be exactly constituted the way that you think God is, even though the Platonic view (which gives us the lovely vocabulary list above) insists that God is wholly other and everything is related to God purely by analogy. Furthermore, none of these terms makes any real sense, either for human beings or for God. At some point, it all becomes a competition to see how complex of a Christology you can derive before you have to admit that God is mysterious. It's not enough to say Jesus is God but the Father is God and how that works is a divine mystery. Rather, we are forced to say Jesus has a human body, human mind and human soul that is somehow unmixed with God but also has a fully divine nature and the way they're combined is the mystery. 2) It's all unbiblical. At no point does the Father say, "I am one in ousious with the Son" nor does Jesus ever say, "My divine logos is willing, but my human logos is weak." Yes, there is some contradiction in the Bible. But as Kierkegaard and Tillich point out, part of being a Christian is accepting what seems absurd. We don't have to come up with an overly complicated formula to completely understand it. 3) These terms are utterly confusing. Not everyone could agree on their meanings when the formulae were established and they left that to other theologians to figure out. If this seems minor, let me reiterate: Men were condemned because they did not use the right Greek term for substance or soul but the men who won did not know exactly why they won. And yet we still consider this orthodox? 4) These ideas can no longer be held with our modern understandings of the universe. We no longer assume a soul-body dualism that allows us to maintain sarx vs anima anymore and so teasing out all of these distinctions is not only useless but a waste of time today. We have a more nuanced anthropology of humanity and (I hope) a better understanding of God and if we talk about God's "substance" today, we should expect to be ridiculed.
Of course, there are also many other reasons why I think we should be reluctant to give the Fathers any real credibility today. Augustine was clearly a misogynist who often changed his mind to argue against different people and used dirty politics when he lost (such as when he originally lost against Pelagius). Origen reportedly castrated himself and wanted to be martyred but his mother hid his clothes so he was afraid to run outside naked in front of the Roman soldiers (Oedipal much?). Jerome was also a misanthrope who went to live in a cave to get away from all people. Nobody during the Patristics period was pure, and yet, we maintain their views as if there are no problems. If any of their writings were published today, they would immediately be criticized for being misogynistic, anti-semites who employ logical fallacies and rhetorical showmanship in order to win over their audiences. And yet, this is what we consider true doctrine.
Now, once again, I do not mean to say we need to get rid of everything the early Fathers said. I do think, however, that we need to realize that the burden of proof now lies on them, rather than modern critics. If we excuse away their odious attitudes as relics of an age past, we must also excuse away their doctrine as relics of an age past. Rather than accepting all they say, except for the parts that are clearly not useable, I think we should rather only accept those things from them which are useable. It is time we move beyond the ignorant views of a bygone era and begin to view Christianity as something more positive.
In my last post, I suggested that there is a lot in theology that is untenable. If it does not help people pastorally or ethically, and preferably in both ways, then it is rather useless for religion. This does not mean we should just do away with anything we think is extra, as many parts of religion (for example, vestments, hymns, incense and liturgies, etc) have powerful effects on people pastorally. We do have to consider, however, whether this is the case for any given issue. For example, after Vatican II, most religious sisters were no longer required to wear habits, and now most in the Western world do not. However, in Asian and African countries, many sisters still wear habits, as it is understood and perceived differently in these cultures.
To continue along this line of thinking, however, I want to bring into question the entirety of the Patristics period. I have known many professors and students alike who hold strongly to the early Fathers. After all, it seems, these men established the ground rules for theology. In fact, during the Reformation, John Calvin and Martin Luther largely drew from Augustine's thought rather than the more comprehensive Thomas Aquinas or any other Medieval theologian.
Don't get me wrong here. I don't doubt the impact that the early Church Fathers had. If nothing else, I can appreciate how much they contributed to Christian understandings of, well, just about everything. However, this is what makes me quite nervous. The names of Jerome, Augustine, Athanasius, Gregory of Nissa, Gregory Naziansus, John Chrysostom, Origen and others are almost untouchable. We can't call anything they say into question or we seem like bad Christians. But I am right now calling this into question. Allow me to explain why.
In the first place, they introduced into Christianity a lot of Hellenistic thought, particularly of a Platonic nature. This is not necessarily bad, but it led to a lot of confusion and intellectual acrobatics. The Semitic tradition of Palestine did not require a Platonic understanding of the world to work. The Platonic view of God tends to be utterly transcendent, omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent, and profoundly other. The Biblical view of God tends to be much more personal and relational. The entire Bible can be read as a story of the developing relationship of this God YHWH and the people he creates and develops a loving relationship with. It is a profound love story that has given countless millions hope in this life when none other was there. Contrast this with the Platonic God who is so utterly other that, as St Thomas says, we can only say anything is like God by analogy and not by any degree of reality. This creates the great problem of trying to resolve the apparent contradictions of the Bible, a book written by Jews in the Palestine region, with a Greek understanding of the Ultimate. The two are not compatible because they were never meant to be. The Biblical understanding of God was not oriented at informing Greek philosophers just as Plato (despite what Origen thinks) was not trying to introduce Semitic Monotheism into Greek culture.
Now, don't get me wrong. I think we can understand Christianity better using other subjects of knowledge. I appreciate theologians who incorporate psychology, sociology, evolution and other sciences into their theology, and I owe a lot to St Thomas' combination of Aristotelian ethics with Christianity. However, the Patristics took it all a step further. Rather than using Plato's philosophy as a tool for theology, they tried to force an unhappy marriage between the two. Thus, we get the Christological controversy.
I cannot stand the Christological debates of the third through fifth centuries in the least. These were the great debates where the best minds in the theological world tried to define God. Out of these debates we get the Trinitarian "formula" and the conception of two natures within the person of Jesus. Words like "hypostatis," "prosopon," "physis," "natura," "ousious," "sarx," and "anima" were thrown around like candy at a parade. If none of those words meant anything to you, don't worry. Often times people were condemned for getting these ideas wrong, or putting them in the wrong order. If you want to be a good, orthodox Christian, you have to say that Jesus is 1 ousious with the Father, the Trinity is 3 prosopa but 1 natura, Jesus has 2 physeis but is 1 prosopon, and Jesus has a fully human sarx, anima, and logos which is combined but not mixed with his divine natura and logos. If you missed one of these apparently vitally important notions, congratulations, you're condemned for the next 1600 years as a heretic.
I have four big reasons for why I don't like the Christological controversy. 1) It's extremely arrogant. It seems rather stupid to condemn others for not believing God to be exactly constituted the way that you think God is, even though the Platonic view (which gives us the lovely vocabulary list above) insists that God is wholly other and everything is related to God purely by analogy. Furthermore, none of these terms makes any real sense, either for human beings or for God. At some point, it all becomes a competition to see how complex of a Christology you can derive before you have to admit that God is mysterious. It's not enough to say Jesus is God but the Father is God and how that works is a divine mystery. Rather, we are forced to say Jesus has a human body, human mind and human soul that is somehow unmixed with God but also has a fully divine nature and the way they're combined is the mystery. 2) It's all unbiblical. At no point does the Father say, "I am one in ousious with the Son" nor does Jesus ever say, "My divine logos is willing, but my human logos is weak." Yes, there is some contradiction in the Bible. But as Kierkegaard and Tillich point out, part of being a Christian is accepting what seems absurd. We don't have to come up with an overly complicated formula to completely understand it. 3) These terms are utterly confusing. Not everyone could agree on their meanings when the formulae were established and they left that to other theologians to figure out. If this seems minor, let me reiterate: Men were condemned because they did not use the right Greek term for substance or soul but the men who won did not know exactly why they won. And yet we still consider this orthodox? 4) These ideas can no longer be held with our modern understandings of the universe. We no longer assume a soul-body dualism that allows us to maintain sarx vs anima anymore and so teasing out all of these distinctions is not only useless but a waste of time today. We have a more nuanced anthropology of humanity and (I hope) a better understanding of God and if we talk about God's "substance" today, we should expect to be ridiculed.
Of course, there are also many other reasons why I think we should be reluctant to give the Fathers any real credibility today. Augustine was clearly a misogynist who often changed his mind to argue against different people and used dirty politics when he lost (such as when he originally lost against Pelagius). Origen reportedly castrated himself and wanted to be martyred but his mother hid his clothes so he was afraid to run outside naked in front of the Roman soldiers (Oedipal much?). Jerome was also a misanthrope who went to live in a cave to get away from all people. Nobody during the Patristics period was pure, and yet, we maintain their views as if there are no problems. If any of their writings were published today, they would immediately be criticized for being misogynistic, anti-semites who employ logical fallacies and rhetorical showmanship in order to win over their audiences. And yet, this is what we consider true doctrine.
Now, once again, I do not mean to say we need to get rid of everything the early Fathers said. I do think, however, that we need to realize that the burden of proof now lies on them, rather than modern critics. If we excuse away their odious attitudes as relics of an age past, we must also excuse away their doctrine as relics of an age past. Rather than accepting all they say, except for the parts that are clearly not useable, I think we should rather only accept those things from them which are useable. It is time we move beyond the ignorant views of a bygone era and begin to view Christianity as something more positive.
Friday, April 20, 2012
The purpose of theology?
Yes, I did want that to be a question mark at the end of my title. And yes, I apologize for being so terrible at updating my blog. In return, I shall try to post a few this weekend. I've got three topics on my mind, and I hope they play out logically and sort of systematically. Bear with me here.
First, I want to talk about the purpose of theology. Thomas Aquinas talks about theology being the highest science because its subject is the greatest subject (ie, God) that we can study. Anselm talks about theology as "faith seeking understanding." But when theologians try to "build a framework" that is chalk-full of highfalutin vocabulary and largely inaccessible to any but the most studied audiences, I have to really call into question the mindset of the theologian.
But before I get into criticizing people who make a great deal of every last detail of doctrine, I should just make my point. Theology is really about two things: how to live your life, and how to take care of your soul. The soul portion of this could be modified or understood as the pastoral lens. That is, priests and ministers study theology so they can better help the people in their care to find hope, faith and love. The life portion is most clearly illustrated in ethics, and it is (in my opinion) supposed to be an application of pastoral aspect of religion in real life. I think these two aspects are most important because I believe this is why people go to church, and why every religion (at least that I can think of) has both a system of eschatology and ethics.
Every piece of theology, then, must be evaluated in relationship to these two broad functions of religion. Every dogma and piece of doctrine should either be designed to pastorally guide someone or ethically direct someone. Of course, it should never be the case that the two aspects of religion are completely divorce, so what you believe pastorally should be reflected in what you believe ethically.
Let me provide an example. The doctrine of "imago dei" (human beings being made in the image and likeness of God) is useful pastorally because it means that we have a special relationship with God. This in turn means that humanity is essentially good and has a great destiny and can be understood as a positive understanding of the world and our relationship to it. For those who have a negative self-image or a sense of worthlessness, this doctrine can be incredibly helpful. On the ethical side of things, however, this means that the way we treat other human beings is reflective of how we are treating the images and likeness of God. Human social interaction becomes much more important when we understand our work as being directed at God. As Jesus says in Matthew 25, "Inasmuch as you have done it to the least of these my brothers and sisters, you have done it unto me." Thus, imago dei serves as both a pastoral message of hope and a strong social norm.
We can do this with many other doctrines within Christianity. But at some point we end up finding doctrines that are, frankly, quite puzzling. For example, I find much of the nuanced view of systematics to be neither helpful ethically nor pastorally. If I have to imagine God, for example, as completely immutable, unemotional and unchanging, I might begin to think of God as uncaring, which is a rather unhelpful concept of God. Similarly, I might think of my work as being unnecessary, which prevents any sense of necessity for living an ethical life.
We can do this with all sorts of doctrines. The Lutheran doctrine of sola fides is unhelpful ethically, just as a more rigorous view of casuistry is unhelpful pastorally. Doctrines about the Trinity or the human-divine nature of Jesus are only helpful insofar as they can be applied to ethics or pastoral work. Understandings of God as transcendent or "wholly other" can also be unhelpful.
What I mean to say is, when I go to Mass and take the Eucharist, does having a nuanced understanding of transubstantiation or satisfaction theories of atonement enable me to be spiritually enrichened? When I go out into the world and conduct my everyday business, does an understanding of Jesus as being "of two natures" and Mary as "theotokos" really help me to be a better person?
The history of the Church is sometimes a history of condemning persons who just happened to not share the same view on a minimally important issue. It seems to me that condemning Arius for not understanding Jesus as both divine and is far less important than stopping the slaughter of innocents in the Crusades or torture in the Spanish Inquisition. Why are we worried about getting the fine points of our doctrines of "the wholly transcendent" right while we grossly neglect our ethical obligations, or our pastoral duties?
This is particularly applicable today. Rome has been preoccupied with making the Mass translations "more accurate" (though less idiomatic) and condemning people who think women can become priests. Instead, it should be focusing on how to reach out to women in general, LGBTQ men and women, people who have been sexually abused by clergy, and women who have undergone traumatic events. Rather than condemning mandated birth control, the Vatican ought to be listening to the needs of the people.
I think by and large the laity gets this. Catholics today tend to be more concerned about social justice issues and less concerned about every word that comes out of the Vatican. Catholics DON'T believe in the inherent evil of birth control, abortion or homosexuality. Catholics DO believe in the grace of God, the importance of the love command, and the need to aid the poor and afflicted. Most of all, I think, Catholics believe in the true Christian message, preached by Jesus, in the Gospels.
Anything that does not further aid people pastorally or guide people in a loving way to live their lives like Jesus is at best unhelpful, and at worst, utterly worthless theologically.
First, I want to talk about the purpose of theology. Thomas Aquinas talks about theology being the highest science because its subject is the greatest subject (ie, God) that we can study. Anselm talks about theology as "faith seeking understanding." But when theologians try to "build a framework" that is chalk-full of highfalutin vocabulary and largely inaccessible to any but the most studied audiences, I have to really call into question the mindset of the theologian.
But before I get into criticizing people who make a great deal of every last detail of doctrine, I should just make my point. Theology is really about two things: how to live your life, and how to take care of your soul. The soul portion of this could be modified or understood as the pastoral lens. That is, priests and ministers study theology so they can better help the people in their care to find hope, faith and love. The life portion is most clearly illustrated in ethics, and it is (in my opinion) supposed to be an application of pastoral aspect of religion in real life. I think these two aspects are most important because I believe this is why people go to church, and why every religion (at least that I can think of) has both a system of eschatology and ethics.
Every piece of theology, then, must be evaluated in relationship to these two broad functions of religion. Every dogma and piece of doctrine should either be designed to pastorally guide someone or ethically direct someone. Of course, it should never be the case that the two aspects of religion are completely divorce, so what you believe pastorally should be reflected in what you believe ethically.
Let me provide an example. The doctrine of "imago dei" (human beings being made in the image and likeness of God) is useful pastorally because it means that we have a special relationship with God. This in turn means that humanity is essentially good and has a great destiny and can be understood as a positive understanding of the world and our relationship to it. For those who have a negative self-image or a sense of worthlessness, this doctrine can be incredibly helpful. On the ethical side of things, however, this means that the way we treat other human beings is reflective of how we are treating the images and likeness of God. Human social interaction becomes much more important when we understand our work as being directed at God. As Jesus says in Matthew 25, "Inasmuch as you have done it to the least of these my brothers and sisters, you have done it unto me." Thus, imago dei serves as both a pastoral message of hope and a strong social norm.
We can do this with many other doctrines within Christianity. But at some point we end up finding doctrines that are, frankly, quite puzzling. For example, I find much of the nuanced view of systematics to be neither helpful ethically nor pastorally. If I have to imagine God, for example, as completely immutable, unemotional and unchanging, I might begin to think of God as uncaring, which is a rather unhelpful concept of God. Similarly, I might think of my work as being unnecessary, which prevents any sense of necessity for living an ethical life.
We can do this with all sorts of doctrines. The Lutheran doctrine of sola fides is unhelpful ethically, just as a more rigorous view of casuistry is unhelpful pastorally. Doctrines about the Trinity or the human-divine nature of Jesus are only helpful insofar as they can be applied to ethics or pastoral work. Understandings of God as transcendent or "wholly other" can also be unhelpful.
What I mean to say is, when I go to Mass and take the Eucharist, does having a nuanced understanding of transubstantiation or satisfaction theories of atonement enable me to be spiritually enrichened? When I go out into the world and conduct my everyday business, does an understanding of Jesus as being "of two natures" and Mary as "theotokos" really help me to be a better person?
The history of the Church is sometimes a history of condemning persons who just happened to not share the same view on a minimally important issue. It seems to me that condemning Arius for not understanding Jesus as both divine and is far less important than stopping the slaughter of innocents in the Crusades or torture in the Spanish Inquisition. Why are we worried about getting the fine points of our doctrines of "the wholly transcendent" right while we grossly neglect our ethical obligations, or our pastoral duties?
This is particularly applicable today. Rome has been preoccupied with making the Mass translations "more accurate" (though less idiomatic) and condemning people who think women can become priests. Instead, it should be focusing on how to reach out to women in general, LGBTQ men and women, people who have been sexually abused by clergy, and women who have undergone traumatic events. Rather than condemning mandated birth control, the Vatican ought to be listening to the needs of the people.
I think by and large the laity gets this. Catholics today tend to be more concerned about social justice issues and less concerned about every word that comes out of the Vatican. Catholics DON'T believe in the inherent evil of birth control, abortion or homosexuality. Catholics DO believe in the grace of God, the importance of the love command, and the need to aid the poor and afflicted. Most of all, I think, Catholics believe in the true Christian message, preached by Jesus, in the Gospels.
Anything that does not further aid people pastorally or guide people in a loving way to live their lives like Jesus is at best unhelpful, and at worst, utterly worthless theologically.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Caelum Novum
Lately I've been reading a lot about grace, salvation, predestination, etc for various classes as well as social justice. Additionally, recent conversations I have had have led me to consider also whether or not ethics are sufficient for salvation or whether piety or correct worship are part and parcel as well. In the end, this has led me to consider that perhaps heaven is not what we think it is.
First of all, I should like to suggest that there are no "hell" or "purgatory" as we traditionally conceive of them. This is by no means a novel assessment of my part. In fact, many theologians have suggested this. Most recently the pastor Rob Bell became quite famous for suggesting this, but the Catholic Church itself does not teach that there is necessarily anybody in hell and other theologians have suggested (such as Ed Vacek) have suggested that since God is love, God would not allow God's children to suffer for all eternity.
I do not mean, however, that I think there will be no suffering. I think there will be no hell. I think the concept of a firey pit and lake of brimstone might be a helpful heuristic for some, the same way thinking of God as a glowing person might, but by no means do I think there will be a place where the damned are literally dipped into molten pitch. Rather, I think those who "are in hell" will endure an eternity of self-imposed suffering.
Everyone who has ever lived will be there. Everyone from our ancestors, our close loved ones, the saints, the sinners, etc. This will be the first opportunity for people to inflict on themselves their suffering. Many people who are proud, pugnacious, self-righteous or easily-offended will find it intolerable to go through eternity with some of the other people. Thus, a man like Dante Alighieri, who ascribed all of his personal enemies various torments in hell, was probably shocked to see them all in heaven, as I'm sure they were shocked to see him. Here Jesus' "hard sayings" become especially applicable. The commandments to love our enemies, to forgive others, to make up with those who wrong us, etc, become particularly relevant when they all show up at the Lord's banquet. We can think of the parable of the workers of the vineyard who complained to the master when the people who worked the least got equal pay. God will save all of us, but that's because that's what God wants to do. If we can't accept that, then the problem lies in us.
This also has applications for those who have low-self esteem. Those who have a hard time accepting or forgiving themselves may stand in disbelief when they are in heaven. Those whose lives have been scarred by abuse, whether emotional, physical, verbal or sexual, might not think they deserve heaven. In the love commandments, Jesus commands us implicitly to love ourselves. This idea often falls on deaf ears within Christianity, but it is important for us to forgive and love ourselves just as we do for others. This is where the next important part comes in. In heaven, God's grace is freely given to all people.
God's grace has the power to heal and nurture. Those whose lives are marred and whose sense of self is broken will be redeemed by God's love as it rains down freely upon all souls. Furthermore, as we are filled with God's grace and love, we will share it with others. Thus, those who have an easier time accepting their position in heaven will share God's grace with others, especially those whose image of self is damaged. As others' lift these people up in God's love, their wounds will be healed and they will find it easier to love and forgive themselves. The same is true for those who have a hard time forgiving or loving others, thought it might take longer for this to occur as we are most in touch with ourselves. Only those with the most stubborn hearts (ie, with no will to change whatsoever) will endure "hell."
Because God's grace will be freely distributed, those whose lives were devoted to acquiring fame, power, money, or other limited commodities will find themselves shocked and offended that all of their "hard work" was for nothing. On the other hand, those who strove hard just to survive will be overly gladdened to find themselves in a place where they do not have to worry about scraping by. Those who have learned to give and share in this life will also find themselves in a state of incredible joy for they will be able to give God's grace to all without worrying about running out. In short, all the limits we have in this world due to limited resources will be removed and those who found themselves happy in that scheme will be miserable while those who found themselves miserable will be happy. Hence, "the last shall be first and the first shall be last."
Concerning piety and unbelief: I imagine that all of us, to one degree or another, will find heaven to be different from what we expected. Since I am a Christian, I imagine heaven will be a place where we spend time with the God, especially Jesus. However, I assume that since we all will be there, there will necessarily be different people from different religions. I assume that they may not all see God as we do. However, keeping in the spirit of Rahner's "anonymous Christians," I think that there will be some who accept their fate more easily than others, as I expect will be the case for Christians. Personal piety might help us become more ready for the beatific vision but only inasmuch as we do not neglect our neighbors. The dual love commandments do say that we need to love God, so I think even the most virtuous atheist will find himself troubled for awhile, but I also think that those who think God has very specific favorites (eg, Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses) will be shocked when they see Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Taoists, etc all in heaven.
So, to recap: I think that God will save us all. I think, however, that God will not alter our wills, or our dispositions. Those who find "happiness" in temporal things will find themselves lost. Those who think they have exclusive rights to heaven will find themselves offended. Those who cannot learn to forgive or love, will find themselves surrounded by enemies. Thus, our "works" in this life can help us prepare for heaven, but they will not "earn" heaven for us. Furthermore, our personal faith might help us prepare for being with God, but it will not determine whether or not we are. Thus, the teaching that those who are in hell choose it still follows, since those who will suffer in heaven will be those who choose to reject God's providence rather than embrace it.
First of all, I should like to suggest that there are no "hell" or "purgatory" as we traditionally conceive of them. This is by no means a novel assessment of my part. In fact, many theologians have suggested this. Most recently the pastor Rob Bell became quite famous for suggesting this, but the Catholic Church itself does not teach that there is necessarily anybody in hell and other theologians have suggested (such as Ed Vacek) have suggested that since God is love, God would not allow God's children to suffer for all eternity.
I do not mean, however, that I think there will be no suffering. I think there will be no hell. I think the concept of a firey pit and lake of brimstone might be a helpful heuristic for some, the same way thinking of God as a glowing person might, but by no means do I think there will be a place where the damned are literally dipped into molten pitch. Rather, I think those who "are in hell" will endure an eternity of self-imposed suffering.
Everyone who has ever lived will be there. Everyone from our ancestors, our close loved ones, the saints, the sinners, etc. This will be the first opportunity for people to inflict on themselves their suffering. Many people who are proud, pugnacious, self-righteous or easily-offended will find it intolerable to go through eternity with some of the other people. Thus, a man like Dante Alighieri, who ascribed all of his personal enemies various torments in hell, was probably shocked to see them all in heaven, as I'm sure they were shocked to see him. Here Jesus' "hard sayings" become especially applicable. The commandments to love our enemies, to forgive others, to make up with those who wrong us, etc, become particularly relevant when they all show up at the Lord's banquet. We can think of the parable of the workers of the vineyard who complained to the master when the people who worked the least got equal pay. God will save all of us, but that's because that's what God wants to do. If we can't accept that, then the problem lies in us.
This also has applications for those who have low-self esteem. Those who have a hard time accepting or forgiving themselves may stand in disbelief when they are in heaven. Those whose lives have been scarred by abuse, whether emotional, physical, verbal or sexual, might not think they deserve heaven. In the love commandments, Jesus commands us implicitly to love ourselves. This idea often falls on deaf ears within Christianity, but it is important for us to forgive and love ourselves just as we do for others. This is where the next important part comes in. In heaven, God's grace is freely given to all people.
God's grace has the power to heal and nurture. Those whose lives are marred and whose sense of self is broken will be redeemed by God's love as it rains down freely upon all souls. Furthermore, as we are filled with God's grace and love, we will share it with others. Thus, those who have an easier time accepting their position in heaven will share God's grace with others, especially those whose image of self is damaged. As others' lift these people up in God's love, their wounds will be healed and they will find it easier to love and forgive themselves. The same is true for those who have a hard time forgiving or loving others, thought it might take longer for this to occur as we are most in touch with ourselves. Only those with the most stubborn hearts (ie, with no will to change whatsoever) will endure "hell."
Because God's grace will be freely distributed, those whose lives were devoted to acquiring fame, power, money, or other limited commodities will find themselves shocked and offended that all of their "hard work" was for nothing. On the other hand, those who strove hard just to survive will be overly gladdened to find themselves in a place where they do not have to worry about scraping by. Those who have learned to give and share in this life will also find themselves in a state of incredible joy for they will be able to give God's grace to all without worrying about running out. In short, all the limits we have in this world due to limited resources will be removed and those who found themselves happy in that scheme will be miserable while those who found themselves miserable will be happy. Hence, "the last shall be first and the first shall be last."
Concerning piety and unbelief: I imagine that all of us, to one degree or another, will find heaven to be different from what we expected. Since I am a Christian, I imagine heaven will be a place where we spend time with the God, especially Jesus. However, I assume that since we all will be there, there will necessarily be different people from different religions. I assume that they may not all see God as we do. However, keeping in the spirit of Rahner's "anonymous Christians," I think that there will be some who accept their fate more easily than others, as I expect will be the case for Christians. Personal piety might help us become more ready for the beatific vision but only inasmuch as we do not neglect our neighbors. The dual love commandments do say that we need to love God, so I think even the most virtuous atheist will find himself troubled for awhile, but I also think that those who think God has very specific favorites (eg, Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses) will be shocked when they see Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Taoists, etc all in heaven.
So, to recap: I think that God will save us all. I think, however, that God will not alter our wills, or our dispositions. Those who find "happiness" in temporal things will find themselves lost. Those who think they have exclusive rights to heaven will find themselves offended. Those who cannot learn to forgive or love, will find themselves surrounded by enemies. Thus, our "works" in this life can help us prepare for heaven, but they will not "earn" heaven for us. Furthermore, our personal faith might help us prepare for being with God, but it will not determine whether or not we are. Thus, the teaching that those who are in hell choose it still follows, since those who will suffer in heaven will be those who choose to reject God's providence rather than embrace it.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Bonus et Malus?
It occurs to me that today, we don't properly understand fully what "right and wrong" or "good and evil" mean. Without going into a lengthy discourse on the proper meaning of the terms (Jim Keenan defines actions as being "right" or "wrong" and people as being "good" or "evil"), and without going into questions of relativism (the endless debate among philosophers is what "good" is versus "evil" (Nietzsche says that "evil" is a cheap word to use in order to make what is "bad" universally so in The Genealogy of Morals)), I would like to discuss the simple fact of what seems to be ignorance.
In American culture, our obsession with the two-party political system dominates much of the rest of our lives. It used to be that Catholics were supposed to be good Democrats while Protestants though this has changed in recent years. People classify themselves as "conservative" or "liberal" (drawing from the old British party system) and often times allow themselves to be conscientiously defined as such or ideologically determined this way. People on the "right" tend to be more religious, and support more autonomy and less interference. People on the left tend to be more agnostic or atheistic and support more governmental interference. These stereotypes become so ingrained in people's minds that many Protestant Christians will be shocked to find Democratic Christians while anti-war protestors might be surprised to find in their midst registered Republicans. This is the problem of our system--we tend to polarize values and expect that people cannot be strongly in favor of one thing or another.
The very greatest problem with this is that our two political parties are full of blatant contradicting values. For example, Democrats tend to be against war and the death penalty, but are more likely to favor more relaxed abortion policies and even allow assisted suicide or euthanasia. Similarly, Republicans tend to be against increased taxation, but also tend to support military efforts which cost the nation billions, even trillions of dollars. This problem for the simple reason that political parties are comprised of politicians, each of whom has his own political agenda. The agenda upon which they agree is the basis for their party, but the remaining agenda on which they do not, they must compromise upon for the sake of party unity. Thus, though Catholicism's strong pro-life ethic had been a part of the Democratic Party's platform for many years, after Roe vs Wade Democratic politicians tended to favor looser abortion policies and Catholics, as a result, began to switch party allegiances. Because of many political decisions and compromises, neither political party represents a solid or coherent ethic.
Take, for example, Libertarianism. Libertarianism is a political stance closest to Nietzsche's philosophy. The main idea of libertarianism is "live and let live." In other words, Libertarians favor small government (or no government), and laissez faire economics, similar to Republicans. However, Libertarians also tend to oppose war and religion in political situations, similar to Democrats. Their stance draws from values in both parties, but is entirely consistent, unlike either the Republicans or Democrats. Similarly, Cardinal Bernardin, former archbishop of Chicago, proposed a theology many Catholics today embrace called "the Seamless Garment" or "The consistent Ethic of Life." The main focus of this ethic is that life is sacred and thus anything that attacks it, be it abortion, euthanasia, the death penalty, or war, is evil. This stance draws from both political parties but is entirely outside of them and is, as the name suggests, entirely consistent.
Whether or not one agrees with the Seamless Garment or the Libertarian ideology, what is impressive is their consistency. Unlike the two parties which we follow now, which are riddled with contradictions. The critical observer will realize the incongruencies within the parties. Those with strong convictions will ally themselves with and vote for whichever politician best represents their beliefs while those with less conviction will ally themselves wholeheartedly with a party. Often times, however, we confuse our own beliefs and ethics with those of political systems. This is the case not simply with political parties but even with political bodies.
Consider for example, if I ask the question, "Is America good?" The patriotic reading this will answer wholeheartedly "Yes!" The subversive reading this will answer with just as much gusto, "No!" If I ask the follow-up question, "Why?" however, the answers will be more muddled. The first camp will say things like "Because we have freedom," while the second camp will answer "Because we're doing X (keeping out immigrants, going to war, taxing the poor, denying gay marriage, or whatever hot-button issue one wants to use)." I could ask further follow-up questions, but I think the solution lies in something more basic. Those who think America is good do so because America is a very powerful nation, one in which any person (theoretically, though not practically speaking) can rise through the ranks of society and even become the leader. Those who think America is not good do so because with the power America possesses, there ought to be more efforts to create more good in the world.
However, America is not necessarily "good" or "evil." Just now I labeled the US as "powerful," but power can be used in various ways. For most American citizens, life here is better than it would be in any other nation. For many other nations, America is not doing enough globally. However, even in the midst of all this, America itself is not a moral agent. The citizens of the country are. "America's policies" cannot be defined as all necessarily right or wrong. In other words, the United States is a conglomeration of compromising political figures, each of whom influences the nation in either a positive or a negative fashion. The US itself is not a moral authority nor a moral actor.
We often historically forget this fact. World War I erupted as a result of strong nationalistic feelings in Europe. The aftermath of both World Wars resulted in the nation of Germany twice being punished as if a moral agent, first by essentially bankrupting the country and second by dividing it. Similarly, when Muslim extremists attacked a few prominent American buildings, the nation went to war against the entire nation of Afghanistan. Since the rise of the nation state, "national values" have often been confused with ethical systems. I have mentioned before that positive law is not identical or necessarily based on ethical norms, but I think that it bears repeating. The policy of a nation cannot be confused with what is good.
Because of this, we are unlikely to see recognize the good when the good is presented to
us. Jesus was killed by his own people. Martin Luther King, Jr was shot by an American. Dorothy Day was disliked by many Catholics. Harvey Milk was killed for his efforts to further gay rights. We tend to only be able to see goodness in the mirror. The same is true for evil. We recognize now that Hitler was evil, though we did not stop him before 1944. The United States and the Soviet Union built up massive stockpiles of nuclear weapons before anyone protested. We were in Vietnam for nearly ten years before pressure from both within and without convinced congress to stop. The point is, we are not always good at recognizing what is good and what is evil when it happens, though we are always good about seeing it later.
Thus, it seems to me that within our nations policies and cultural norms, we often ignore what is good and embrace what is evil.
Rather than seeking to follow party lines or obey orders, we should be willing to evaluate our decisions and our judgment calls based on the question, "How will this support the good?" Things that encourage life are good. Things that bring about justice are good. Things that encourage people to serve others are good. Things that increase oppression or poverty are bad. Things that prevent education or increase ignorance are bad. Things that cause harm or illness or increase the risk of such things are bad.
The world may not be "black and white," but individual actions can be evaluated as such, and personal action ought to be determined more on this criteria than on anything else.
In American culture, our obsession with the two-party political system dominates much of the rest of our lives. It used to be that Catholics were supposed to be good Democrats while Protestants though this has changed in recent years. People classify themselves as "conservative" or "liberal" (drawing from the old British party system) and often times allow themselves to be conscientiously defined as such or ideologically determined this way. People on the "right" tend to be more religious, and support more autonomy and less interference. People on the left tend to be more agnostic or atheistic and support more governmental interference. These stereotypes become so ingrained in people's minds that many Protestant Christians will be shocked to find Democratic Christians while anti-war protestors might be surprised to find in their midst registered Republicans. This is the problem of our system--we tend to polarize values and expect that people cannot be strongly in favor of one thing or another.
The very greatest problem with this is that our two political parties are full of blatant contradicting values. For example, Democrats tend to be against war and the death penalty, but are more likely to favor more relaxed abortion policies and even allow assisted suicide or euthanasia. Similarly, Republicans tend to be against increased taxation, but also tend to support military efforts which cost the nation billions, even trillions of dollars. This problem for the simple reason that political parties are comprised of politicians, each of whom has his own political agenda. The agenda upon which they agree is the basis for their party, but the remaining agenda on which they do not, they must compromise upon for the sake of party unity. Thus, though Catholicism's strong pro-life ethic had been a part of the Democratic Party's platform for many years, after Roe vs Wade Democratic politicians tended to favor looser abortion policies and Catholics, as a result, began to switch party allegiances. Because of many political decisions and compromises, neither political party represents a solid or coherent ethic.
Take, for example, Libertarianism. Libertarianism is a political stance closest to Nietzsche's philosophy. The main idea of libertarianism is "live and let live." In other words, Libertarians favor small government (or no government), and laissez faire economics, similar to Republicans. However, Libertarians also tend to oppose war and religion in political situations, similar to Democrats. Their stance draws from values in both parties, but is entirely consistent, unlike either the Republicans or Democrats. Similarly, Cardinal Bernardin, former archbishop of Chicago, proposed a theology many Catholics today embrace called "the Seamless Garment" or "The consistent Ethic of Life." The main focus of this ethic is that life is sacred and thus anything that attacks it, be it abortion, euthanasia, the death penalty, or war, is evil. This stance draws from both political parties but is entirely outside of them and is, as the name suggests, entirely consistent.
Whether or not one agrees with the Seamless Garment or the Libertarian ideology, what is impressive is their consistency. Unlike the two parties which we follow now, which are riddled with contradictions. The critical observer will realize the incongruencies within the parties. Those with strong convictions will ally themselves with and vote for whichever politician best represents their beliefs while those with less conviction will ally themselves wholeheartedly with a party. Often times, however, we confuse our own beliefs and ethics with those of political systems. This is the case not simply with political parties but even with political bodies.
Consider for example, if I ask the question, "Is America good?" The patriotic reading this will answer wholeheartedly "Yes!" The subversive reading this will answer with just as much gusto, "No!" If I ask the follow-up question, "Why?" however, the answers will be more muddled. The first camp will say things like "Because we have freedom," while the second camp will answer "Because we're doing X (keeping out immigrants, going to war, taxing the poor, denying gay marriage, or whatever hot-button issue one wants to use)." I could ask further follow-up questions, but I think the solution lies in something more basic. Those who think America is good do so because America is a very powerful nation, one in which any person (theoretically, though not practically speaking) can rise through the ranks of society and even become the leader. Those who think America is not good do so because with the power America possesses, there ought to be more efforts to create more good in the world.
However, America is not necessarily "good" or "evil." Just now I labeled the US as "powerful," but power can be used in various ways. For most American citizens, life here is better than it would be in any other nation. For many other nations, America is not doing enough globally. However, even in the midst of all this, America itself is not a moral agent. The citizens of the country are. "America's policies" cannot be defined as all necessarily right or wrong. In other words, the United States is a conglomeration of compromising political figures, each of whom influences the nation in either a positive or a negative fashion. The US itself is not a moral authority nor a moral actor.
We often historically forget this fact. World War I erupted as a result of strong nationalistic feelings in Europe. The aftermath of both World Wars resulted in the nation of Germany twice being punished as if a moral agent, first by essentially bankrupting the country and second by dividing it. Similarly, when Muslim extremists attacked a few prominent American buildings, the nation went to war against the entire nation of Afghanistan. Since the rise of the nation state, "national values" have often been confused with ethical systems. I have mentioned before that positive law is not identical or necessarily based on ethical norms, but I think that it bears repeating. The policy of a nation cannot be confused with what is good.
Because of this, we are unlikely to see recognize the good when the good is presented to
us. Jesus was killed by his own people. Martin Luther King, Jr was shot by an American. Dorothy Day was disliked by many Catholics. Harvey Milk was killed for his efforts to further gay rights. We tend to only be able to see goodness in the mirror. The same is true for evil. We recognize now that Hitler was evil, though we did not stop him before 1944. The United States and the Soviet Union built up massive stockpiles of nuclear weapons before anyone protested. We were in Vietnam for nearly ten years before pressure from both within and without convinced congress to stop. The point is, we are not always good at recognizing what is good and what is evil when it happens, though we are always good about seeing it later.Thus, it seems to me that within our nations policies and cultural norms, we often ignore what is good and embrace what is evil.
Rather than seeking to follow party lines or obey orders, we should be willing to evaluate our decisions and our judgment calls based on the question, "How will this support the good?" Things that encourage life are good. Things that bring about justice are good. Things that encourage people to serve others are good. Things that increase oppression or poverty are bad. Things that prevent education or increase ignorance are bad. Things that cause harm or illness or increase the risk of such things are bad.
The world may not be "black and white," but individual actions can be evaluated as such, and personal action ought to be determined more on this criteria than on anything else.
Monday, May 2, 2011
My views as a moral theologian and Arabist
Last night President Obama announced that Osama bin Laden, the FBI's most wanted (criminal?) terrorist had been killed in a raid. I was out at the time and only heard the news about an hour after the news broke. My first reaction was, 'Why does this matter?'
In the first place, I think Osama bin Laden has been out of America's popular imagination for quite some time now. With the 9/11 attacks, we promised to "never forget" but the super-patriotism that arose from the death of nearly 3000 American civilians (out of 300,000,000, that is, only .001%), but I would argue that by the 2006 we had, essentially forgotten. By 2003, our attention was completely focused on Iraq, where Osama bin Laden was NOT, and our efforts were focused on fighting the War in Iraq (which, by comparison, resulted in the deaths of 860,000 Iraqi civilians in a country whose population was only 7,000,000, that is, more than 10%). Once Saddam Hussein was tried and executed, the American people, for the most part, began to focus on our exit strategy. We needed to get out of the Middle East. People had forgotten about the War in Afghanistan. To date, that war has been the longest waged war in American history, though with a much smaller casualty rate than most (1,140 American troops, mostly killed by friendly fire).
All this is to say, when did we begin to care about Osama again? The number one thing that affects Americans on any sort of regular basis since September 11, 2001 is increasingly higher security measures at airports due to foiled, poorly planned terrorist plots. I normally only think about 9/11 out of frustration when I have to buy a smaller tube of toothpaste, or have to wait to stand in an x-ray machine, or have my bags "randomly searched" because I put my Arabic-English dictionary in my check-on luggage. As far as I knew, we had given up on bin Laden and were only still in Afghanistan for the same reason we were still in Iraq--we couldn't figure out how to get out correctly.
So it came to me as some surprise to hear about the death of Osama bin Laden. It was first of all a surprise because I did not know we were still actually trying to find him. Moreover, it was also a surprise because of the reaction of many of my friends who were reacting as if they had just found out that everyone was getting a massive tax rebate. Chants of USA!! were the norm, apparently, both at Notre Dame and at Boston College, as if we had won a sporting event and not simply killed a man. The attitude around the country was one of jubilation.
But why?
In the first place, killing Osama bin Laden has likely done nothing to stop the supposed "War on Terror." In the US, aside from some very poorly planned terrorist plots, there has been no terrorism activity since 2001. I have read posts by people mentioning the "climate of fear" that bin Laden has put the country in, but has that really been bin Laden? The TSA's increased security measures were not implemented by al Qaeda insurgents. The phone taps and email scanning of the supposed "Patriot Act" were not lobbied by Afghan anti-American lobbyists. And though, I would agree, the morale of the United States was very much affected by what happened nearly ten years ago, I think that the general feeling of Americans in the last few years has been one of security. I find it difficult to believe that the death of bin Laden was the morale boost that this country needed. Our attention since 2003 has been on Iraq, Katrina, Indonesia, the Recession, the BP oil spill, and lately Japan, Africa and other Western Asian countries and finally the tornadoes in the South. We've moved on, or so I had thought.
But furthermore, I do not see how this will end conflicts in the Middle East. In the first place, Osama bin Laden, and al Qaeda in general, represents a branch of political power in Middle Eastern politics that Westerners often don't understand. He represents the people, largely. He has followers that are very loyal to him because he addresses what they see as real problems. Bin Laden was not fighting "America." He was fighting the materialistic capitalism embodied by the US and other nations. That was his rallying cry. That's what his followers believe. If anything, we did not assassinate Osama bin Laden, we martyred him.
So his followers will rise up against us for what we've done. The war will likely escalate, as new energy has been given to those loyal to bin Laden's ideals. As we use various portions of the Middle East to suit our advantages in various wars (read: WWI, WWII, and most of all various Cold War proxy wars), it's hard to imagine that the peoples of these regions will not resist our efforts. We see them as the aggressors, but to them, we are. They killed 3000 people in 2001 on our soil. We've killed 17,000 Afghans since then on their soil.
Finally, the cheerful reaction of many young people is very inappropriate. In 2001, we were shocked and morally offended that there were people cheering in Afghanistan when the WTC buildings were attacked. We talked about standing up for righteousness and justice and truth. We responded that we were going to fight back for freedom. Instead, our government is responsible for putting the entire country into various states of panic, of making the citizens of both Iraq and Afghanistan constantly in fear of their lives and of killing nearly 900,000 people in Iraq and Afghanistan (in other words, 300 times as many as they killed here).
What with the recent budget crisis and Head Start losing its funding, my only celebration will be that perhaps the United States will now devote much more money to social programs rather than military efforts. I will only take joy if bin Laden's death means we permanently leave Afghanistan. I will rejoice if the supposed assassination of this man means racism against Arabs (who, by the way, are ethnically distinct from Afghans). When the government gives us back our liberty, when ecumenical efforts for Christian-Muslim dialogue become more commonplace, when the blatant militaristic attitude that is synonymous with patriotism is erased from our minds, then I will rejoice. Until then, I shall take the events of yesterday as a sign of how truly we, as a supposedly Christian nation, needs to repent.
In the first place, I think Osama bin Laden has been out of America's popular imagination for quite some time now. With the 9/11 attacks, we promised to "never forget" but the super-patriotism that arose from the death of nearly 3000 American civilians (out of 300,000,000, that is, only .001%), but I would argue that by the 2006 we had, essentially forgotten. By 2003, our attention was completely focused on Iraq, where Osama bin Laden was NOT, and our efforts were focused on fighting the War in Iraq (which, by comparison, resulted in the deaths of 860,000 Iraqi civilians in a country whose population was only 7,000,000, that is, more than 10%). Once Saddam Hussein was tried and executed, the American people, for the most part, began to focus on our exit strategy. We needed to get out of the Middle East. People had forgotten about the War in Afghanistan. To date, that war has been the longest waged war in American history, though with a much smaller casualty rate than most (1,140 American troops, mostly killed by friendly fire).
All this is to say, when did we begin to care about Osama again? The number one thing that affects Americans on any sort of regular basis since September 11, 2001 is increasingly higher security measures at airports due to foiled, poorly planned terrorist plots. I normally only think about 9/11 out of frustration when I have to buy a smaller tube of toothpaste, or have to wait to stand in an x-ray machine, or have my bags "randomly searched" because I put my Arabic-English dictionary in my check-on luggage. As far as I knew, we had given up on bin Laden and were only still in Afghanistan for the same reason we were still in Iraq--we couldn't figure out how to get out correctly.
So it came to me as some surprise to hear about the death of Osama bin Laden. It was first of all a surprise because I did not know we were still actually trying to find him. Moreover, it was also a surprise because of the reaction of many of my friends who were reacting as if they had just found out that everyone was getting a massive tax rebate. Chants of USA!! were the norm, apparently, both at Notre Dame and at Boston College, as if we had won a sporting event and not simply killed a man. The attitude around the country was one of jubilation.
But why?
In the first place, killing Osama bin Laden has likely done nothing to stop the supposed "War on Terror." In the US, aside from some very poorly planned terrorist plots, there has been no terrorism activity since 2001. I have read posts by people mentioning the "climate of fear" that bin Laden has put the country in, but has that really been bin Laden? The TSA's increased security measures were not implemented by al Qaeda insurgents. The phone taps and email scanning of the supposed "Patriot Act" were not lobbied by Afghan anti-American lobbyists. And though, I would agree, the morale of the United States was very much affected by what happened nearly ten years ago, I think that the general feeling of Americans in the last few years has been one of security. I find it difficult to believe that the death of bin Laden was the morale boost that this country needed. Our attention since 2003 has been on Iraq, Katrina, Indonesia, the Recession, the BP oil spill, and lately Japan, Africa and other Western Asian countries and finally the tornadoes in the South. We've moved on, or so I had thought.
But furthermore, I do not see how this will end conflicts in the Middle East. In the first place, Osama bin Laden, and al Qaeda in general, represents a branch of political power in Middle Eastern politics that Westerners often don't understand. He represents the people, largely. He has followers that are very loyal to him because he addresses what they see as real problems. Bin Laden was not fighting "America." He was fighting the materialistic capitalism embodied by the US and other nations. That was his rallying cry. That's what his followers believe. If anything, we did not assassinate Osama bin Laden, we martyred him.
So his followers will rise up against us for what we've done. The war will likely escalate, as new energy has been given to those loyal to bin Laden's ideals. As we use various portions of the Middle East to suit our advantages in various wars (read: WWI, WWII, and most of all various Cold War proxy wars), it's hard to imagine that the peoples of these regions will not resist our efforts. We see them as the aggressors, but to them, we are. They killed 3000 people in 2001 on our soil. We've killed 17,000 Afghans since then on their soil.
Finally, the cheerful reaction of many young people is very inappropriate. In 2001, we were shocked and morally offended that there were people cheering in Afghanistan when the WTC buildings were attacked. We talked about standing up for righteousness and justice and truth. We responded that we were going to fight back for freedom. Instead, our government is responsible for putting the entire country into various states of panic, of making the citizens of both Iraq and Afghanistan constantly in fear of their lives and of killing nearly 900,000 people in Iraq and Afghanistan (in other words, 300 times as many as they killed here).
What with the recent budget crisis and Head Start losing its funding, my only celebration will be that perhaps the United States will now devote much more money to social programs rather than military efforts. I will only take joy if bin Laden's death means we permanently leave Afghanistan. I will rejoice if the supposed assassination of this man means racism against Arabs (who, by the way, are ethnically distinct from Afghans). When the government gives us back our liberty, when ecumenical efforts for Christian-Muslim dialogue become more commonplace, when the blatant militaristic attitude that is synonymous with patriotism is erased from our minds, then I will rejoice. Until then, I shall take the events of yesterday as a sign of how truly we, as a supposedly Christian nation, needs to repent.
Friday, April 22, 2011
The Lord's Supper (Eucharist Redux)
Thus far, we have established that, unfortunately for those who are ecumenically minded, sharing the table of the Lord seems more like a fantasy than a reality. We have established that between Catholicism and Protestantism the theology surrounding the Lord's Supper is too much for the different factions to be reconciled.
But the question ought not to be, "How do you view communion?" but rather "Who would Jesus eat with?"
Consider the following. We often talk about how Jesus went out to the poor, the despised, the sinners. We sometimes emphasize Jesus' work among the oppressed and Jesus himself says "I came not for the righteous but for the sinners."
However, when we look around our Churches, what do we see? I've talked about religiosity before, but that's not what I am going for today. How do we see the Lord's table?
Last post I mentioned the way the Roman Church treats the Eucharist. Our theology views it more of the Body of Christ, as a sacrifice. Until Vatican II our tradition was reminiscent of ancient Jewish practices, where only the priest was allowed to enter the sanctuary for the sacrifice and all the people were left in wonder and awe about what he was doing. Now, the priest faces the congregation, but we still treat the Eucharist with the same amount of sacred fear.
This, of course, is why there is so much emphasis on sanctity and holiness. In the Middle Ages, the peasantry were afraid of blaspheming by taking the Eucharist unworthily. The Church said that they needed to take it once a year, but the people were afraid of damning themselves. Thus the practice of lifting up the host became popular, as many of the common people were reluctant to partake but felt that at least seeing the host would be enough. This is also why the cup was inaccessible to people until after the Reformation. Were some of the Blood of Christ to spill on the ground, the person who spilt it would have committed a grave sin. The risk of damnation was too great.
Of course, Luther's understanding of Eucharist was very different. Luther viewed it more of communion, as the Lord's Supper. Thus, to deny people would be too exclude them, rather than to save them. Such a view of the Eucharist, I think, is more in line with Jesus' own teaching.
When Jesus gathered with his disciples for the Last Supper, consider briefly whom he did invite and whom he did not. At the table with him were Judas, his betrayer; Peter, who would deny him three times in one night; Thomas, who would not believe Jesus was resurrected until he was with his own eyes; and the two apostles who did not even recognize Jesus on the way to Emaus. Forget Levi the tax collector and the rest of the fishermen and shepherds, Jesus ate dinner with people who were not genuinely loyal to him. He did not eat with his mother, who would weep at the foot of his cross; Mary Magdalene, who would be the first to his tomb Sunday morning; Joseph of Arimathea, who would bury him; or any of the other disciples who were faithful to him when his apostles fled the garden.
Today, in the Roman Church, we tend to think of communion as a gathering of saints. When Jesus broke bread for the last time before his death, he was communing with anything but a gathering of saints. We restrict and shun and emphasize "worthy" participation. Of course, we do not limit it the same way that Mormons do, but nonetheless we do not allow outsiders to partake.
Jesus granted grace to any who had faith enough. The early Christian Church, because of their justified fears, restricted participation in the community to those who proved their loyalty (usually through a catechetical program that lasted three years). Today, we have no such fears. Today, the Christian Church is not in danger of spies or traitors, at least not from without. Perhaps Eucharist should be extended to any and all who have faith, and our scrutiny should not be to those who would sit at the table of our Lord, but those, namely the bishops and priests, who sit in the Lord's seat at the table.
But the question ought not to be, "How do you view communion?" but rather "Who would Jesus eat with?"
Consider the following. We often talk about how Jesus went out to the poor, the despised, the sinners. We sometimes emphasize Jesus' work among the oppressed and Jesus himself says "I came not for the righteous but for the sinners."
However, when we look around our Churches, what do we see? I've talked about religiosity before, but that's not what I am going for today. How do we see the Lord's table?
Last post I mentioned the way the Roman Church treats the Eucharist. Our theology views it more of the Body of Christ, as a sacrifice. Until Vatican II our tradition was reminiscent of ancient Jewish practices, where only the priest was allowed to enter the sanctuary for the sacrifice and all the people were left in wonder and awe about what he was doing. Now, the priest faces the congregation, but we still treat the Eucharist with the same amount of sacred fear.
This, of course, is why there is so much emphasis on sanctity and holiness. In the Middle Ages, the peasantry were afraid of blaspheming by taking the Eucharist unworthily. The Church said that they needed to take it once a year, but the people were afraid of damning themselves. Thus the practice of lifting up the host became popular, as many of the common people were reluctant to partake but felt that at least seeing the host would be enough. This is also why the cup was inaccessible to people until after the Reformation. Were some of the Blood of Christ to spill on the ground, the person who spilt it would have committed a grave sin. The risk of damnation was too great.
Of course, Luther's understanding of Eucharist was very different. Luther viewed it more of communion, as the Lord's Supper. Thus, to deny people would be too exclude them, rather than to save them. Such a view of the Eucharist, I think, is more in line with Jesus' own teaching.
When Jesus gathered with his disciples for the Last Supper, consider briefly whom he did invite and whom he did not. At the table with him were Judas, his betrayer; Peter, who would deny him three times in one night; Thomas, who would not believe Jesus was resurrected until he was with his own eyes; and the two apostles who did not even recognize Jesus on the way to Emaus. Forget Levi the tax collector and the rest of the fishermen and shepherds, Jesus ate dinner with people who were not genuinely loyal to him. He did not eat with his mother, who would weep at the foot of his cross; Mary Magdalene, who would be the first to his tomb Sunday morning; Joseph of Arimathea, who would bury him; or any of the other disciples who were faithful to him when his apostles fled the garden.
Today, in the Roman Church, we tend to think of communion as a gathering of saints. When Jesus broke bread for the last time before his death, he was communing with anything but a gathering of saints. We restrict and shun and emphasize "worthy" participation. Of course, we do not limit it the same way that Mormons do, but nonetheless we do not allow outsiders to partake.
Jesus granted grace to any who had faith enough. The early Christian Church, because of their justified fears, restricted participation in the community to those who proved their loyalty (usually through a catechetical program that lasted three years). Today, we have no such fears. Today, the Christian Church is not in danger of spies or traitors, at least not from without. Perhaps Eucharist should be extended to any and all who have faith, and our scrutiny should not be to those who would sit at the table of our Lord, but those, namely the bishops and priests, who sit in the Lord's seat at the table.
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