Precision, Truth, Humor, and Conviction :: Thank You, Stanley Hauerwas

It is no secret that among my favorite theologians Stanley Hauerwas stands tall.  My closest friends who have read Hauerwas’s “work” recognize how my theology has been influenced by his thought, his cantankerousness, his wit, and, most importantly, his love for the church.  I am not just a “fan” of Hauerwas.  I have done my best to read his writings carefully and mine from the riches found there those things which ring true and bring them to expression in an actual lived life–my own.  I have learned from Hauerwas that to be Christian we must undergo training that teaches us how to see, and we learn how to see through saying, or liturgy.  We are trained as we participate in the life of the people called “Church.”  There we are taught how to be God’s peace in the world through the power of the Holy Spirit, the telling of the story of Scripture, and the witness of the saints.

This week I have been reading A Cross-Shattered Church: Reclaiming the Theological Heart of Preaching.  The book is a collection of sermons written on various occasions.  Some are written for weddings or other special life-happenings, some for worship in local churches, and others for those gathered as part of the Divinity School at Duke University.  This morning this quote gave me pause:

We are well schooled as Christians.  We know that we are not to identify with Judas.  Yet we cannot help but think, thief though he was, Judas was right–the costly perfume should have been sold and the money given to the poor.  If we are honest we cannot resist the conclusion: Judas is appealing.

Moreover, if any conviction characterizes what it means to be Christian in our day, it is surely the presumption that we ought to be on the side of the poor.  No longer sure we know what it means to believe that Jesus is the Son of God, we at least take comfort that to be a Christian requires that we care about those less well off.  Of course that means for us–that is, for the moderately well off–to care for the poor usually extends no farther than our attempt to make the poor like us, that is, moderately well off.

Given the world in which we find ourselves, a world that thinks what Christians believe must make us doubtful allies in the struggle for justice, the Christian concern for the poor can win us some respect.  The cultural despisers of the church at least have to acknowledge that Christians do some good in spite of our reactionary convictions.  So it is good that we burn with a passion for justice.  The only problem with such a passion is that it can put us on Judas’s side.

-Stanley Hauerwas, “The Appeal of Judas”, A Sermon for Duke Divinity School, March 28, 2007 in A Cross-Shattered Church, 95

This strikes me as true.  For those of us that deeply burn for justice, our temptation is to sell out Jesus for a bag of silver.  Preaching Jesus as God’s Son, God’s peace in a violent world, who, in being hung on a cross brings an end to violence, an end to sacrifice, expresses the full measure of God’s grace, and there declares the forgiveness of sin, are peculiar truths in a world like ours.  It is much easier to say that we should be nice people with a concern for those who are monetarily less well off.

Hauerwas continues his sermon by reminding us that Jesus’s response to Judas is something we wish he would have never said, “You will always have the poor with you, but you will not have me.”  Hauerwas further raises excellent questions for the church, saying, “The church has glossed over Jesus’s response to Judas by not asking, ‘What if we did more than care for the poor?’ or, ‘What if we celebrated the poor?’”  He then follows by simply stating, “That such questions are not asked reflects a church that has forgotten that Christianity is determinatively the faith of the poor.”

Hauerwas’s reminder extends in two directions.  First, Hauerwas gazes across the span of church history and acknowledges the church’s buildings, liturgy, music and hymns, is a beauty for the poor.  In addition, “The literature of the church, her theology and philosophy, is distorted if it does not contribute to the common life determined by the worship of a Savior who was poor.”  This last quotation leads directly to Hauewas second point of emphasis–the Messiah Christians worship was poor.  Indeed, “The poor you will always have with you.”

I can only hope that my theology as it has been embodied among my peers and among the students I have mentored has reflected a celebration of those who are poor.  I also hope that I am not among those who are “no longer sure what it means to believe Jesus is the Son of God.”  I hope that my care for those that are poor is an extension of my belief that Jesus is who Scripture and the Church across time has proclaimed him to be.  

As I begin this day, that is my prayer.

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Thoughts on Phyllis Tickle’s The Great Emergence

Before The Great Emergence: How Christianity is Changing and Why appeared on the shelves at the local bookstore it was on my radar screen.  I’ve read Phyllis Tickle’s work in the past and have been amazed at her command of the language.  Her ability to translate complex ideas and vivid images into captivating prose is undoubtedly impressive, and her latest work is no exception.  The ideas contained in The Great Emergence cannot be ignored, and will surely be of vast importance for “emergers,” “emergents,” and the “hyphenateds” (Presby-mergents, Metho-mergent, etc.) as the church charges into the future.

After naming the historical reality in which we stand “The Great Emergence,” Tickle states her task as answering three questions, “What is this thing?”, “How did it come to be?”, and “Where is it going?”  The church, according to Tickle, stands in the midst of a giant rummage sale.  This rummage sale is not the first of its kind, as each of the great Abrahamic faiths have been through this before.  These moments have come about in history at approximately five hundred year intervals.  Quoting the Anglican bishop Mark Dyer, Tickle states, “about every five hundred years the empowered structures of institutionalized Christianity, whatever they may be at the time, become an intolerable carapace that must be shattered in order that renewal and new growth may occur.”  Now, Tickle believes, is one of those times.  Tickle generalizes three results each time one of these historic shifts has occurred.  According to her analysis: (1) a more vital form of Christianity emerges, (2) organized expressions are reconstituted into a more purified expression of the former self, and (3) the “the range and depth of Christianity’s reach” expands.

To support her argument Tickle provides a broad historical sketch.  Her markers in history include the rise of Gregory the Great and the monastic movement in the 500s, the Great Schism which occurred near 1000 AD, the Great Reformation of the 1500s, and, now, the Great Emergence.  During each period she uses a tethered cable as a helpful analogy which consists of four components.  The exterior of the cable is a mesh sleeve, represents the common imagination of the time.  Once punctured, lying beneath that common imagination are three strands representative of the spirituality, corporeality, and morality of the age.  Tickle’s examination of each designated time period show how an individual, a group of individuals, or some historic event punctures the common imagination and brings about the reexamination of each of these three strands, raising new questions pertaining to authority, reality, and meaning in the world.  When challenges arise, a new common imagination must be formulated which will guide existence within reality.  As this occurs, the process can be painful and discomforting.  Yet, purgation leads to purification.

According to Tickle, the two central questions of the Great Emergence are: “(1) What is human consciousness and/or the humanness of the human? and (2) What is the relation of all religions to one another–or, put another way, how can we live responsibly as devout and faithful adherents of one religion in a world of many religions?”  Tickle further asserts, “the other great truth here is that we can not be said to have truly entered into any kind of post-Emergence stability until we have answered both of them.”  Interestingly for Tickle the question is one of plurality, or the truth of plurality.  In order to negotiate this question one must wrestle with the location of authority.  The dilemma of authority today is present not only in Christianity, but in the world at large.  Tickle is right to point us in this direction.

In an attempt to explain how we got here, Tickle traces important philosophical, sociological, theological, scientific, and technological developments including Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, Einstein’s theory of relativity, the advent of the automobile, the shifting relationship of families, the rise of the drug culture in the 1960s, the quest for the historical Jesus, and the rise of Pentecostalism.  All of these factors, in a way, eroded the Reformation foundation of authority, sola Scriptura.

To address her final question, “Where is it going?”, Tickle provides a quadrilateral to serve as a guide.  In each of the four quadrants (moving from upper left, clockwise to lower left) she locates Christians on Liturgical, Social Justice, Renewalist, and Conservative terrain.  The Great Emergence has brought about a stirring in each of these four quadrants, drawing leaders in each area in to a gathering center.  As this gathered center begins to draw more and more people of like mind together the church becomes primed for renewal, though this new reality is turbulent and challenging.  The church together must navigate these new frontiers, with traditionalists, re-tradition-ers, progressives, and hyphenateds engaging in constructive dialogue which paves the way forward.

As this pattern emerges, Tickle turns to the sources of authority in this new environment.  Here she defines and explores two terms, “orthonomy” (correct harmony & beauty) and “theonomy” (only God can be the source of perfection in action or thought).  Under this context she explores how Christians in the Great Emergence will define authority underneath these categories, offering that authority is established in Scripture and Community.  Authority becomes a dynamic conception based on a network theory or crowd sourcing, and levels hierarchical structures which have carried the day in the past.  Christian communities will become a centered set rather than a bounded set, will emphasize narrative, and will return to Hebraic roots of the Christian faith, purging Hellenistic influences which have defined certain aspects of Christian belief and doctrine.  Tickle’s ideas are complex and defy simplification.  I recommend you read them.

Tickle’s book is a good one.  At times I found places where her argument could be strengthened, though not to the detriment of the whole.  This book should be read by practitioners and church leaders seeking a way forward and then discussed with fervor.  There will be moments when one may strongly agree or disagree with her argument, but Tickle must be contended with.  We stand at the precipice of a new age, which in and of itself is not a new dilemma.  Christian people must seek to be faithful in that age.  A debt of gratitude is owed to Tickle for how her ideas might sharpen our thinking, strengthen our practice, and spur us on to greater deeds.

Read this book.

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Family Guy :: It’s Jesus Christ!

Jesus keeps showing up in culture.

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Fishing :: A Saturday Meditation

Something within fishermen tries to make fishing into a world perfect and apart–I don’t know what it is or where, because sometimes it is in my arms and sometimes in my throat and sometimes nowhere in particular except somewhere deep.  Many of us probably would be better fishermen if we did not spend more time watching and waiting for the world to become perfect.
–Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It 

“Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fishers of men.”  
–Mark 1:17

I grew up fishing.  My dad is a fisherman, as was his father before him.  You could say that I am a fisherman, and the son of a fisherman.  I have many great memories of being on the lake, river, or a small pond situated on a piece of farmland.  My discipleship in the art of fishing began with a Snoopy rod.  I’ve since advanced, though not much.

The words above from Norman Maclean are beautiful words.  They are also true.  Fishing is an art that requires patience, technique, experiential knowledge, and a little luck.  Presentation, lure selection, and casting location can all be precise, yet every outing is an adventure that comes with no guarantee of success.  You can have partly cloudy skies, clear waters, perfect temperatures, and been the first to hit the water, yet have your first cast come up a tangle of line or your first setting of the hook come up with a old sunken tire.  Even when conditions turn out perfect, in fishing perfection is fleeting.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

As Maclean states above, “Many of us would probably be better fishermen if we did not spend more time watching and waiting for the world to become perfect.”  I can’t imagine what my life of fishing would have been like if we would have only set out when all conditions were perfect, or only cast our line into the water on those moments when all was just right.  If fishing hinged on perfect conditions, it would’ve been a rare day for us to make it into the water.  It wasn’t uncommon for my dad and I to arrive at the boat ramp later than he would’ve liked thanks to my desire for a breakfast taquito from Whataburger.  Every spring when we first put the boat in the water there was no guarantee the engine would start.  Depending on the condition of dad’s aluminum bottom boat, there were seasons in which we would have to gauge the amount of water we were taking on so that we could take a guess concerning how much time we had left on the water before we were in danger of sinking.  One of my greatest memories with my dad and Gramps was being on the lake as a light sprinkle set in.  Being just a small boy, I thought every raindrop was a fish disturbing the surface of the water.  That moment is burned in to my memory.

When I read Maclean’s words I not only thought of my lifetime of fishing, but I thought of my lifetime of discipleship to Jesus.  I stopped and pondered the words.  I considered how Jesus had called a handful of fishermen to be included among his close knit band of followers, and how for each of these young men a lifetime of fishing experience lent perspective to what Jesus had called them to be and to do.  How often might it have been that conditions presented themselves perfect for the type of fishing to which Simon Peter, Andrew, and the brothers Zebedee had been called to by Jesus?  I’m guessing not often.

How often have I, as someone who has worked directly and indirectly in church leadership, longed for perfect conditions under which to fish?

• “If only the people were…”
• “If only the community were not so…”
• “If only I were not so busy…”
• “If only I had preached a better sermon or taught a better lesson…”
• “If only the world were not so corrupt…”

That world for which we long that is “perfect and apart” is called Kingdom, the reality which has come and is coming.  While Jesus calls us to be fishers of people it is only natural that our eschatological hopes would birth a longing “somewhere deep” for all of creation to be made new.  Yet it is in the time between the times in which we now stand, patient yet expectant, putting our hands to the work we have been given and in the process becoming men and women who fish with a greater degree of skill.  The fact that the world is not perfect is what makes discipleship to Jesus so compelling.  Without conditions that fall short of perfection, we’d be robbed of the beauty of grace and redemption.

Instead of watching and waiting for the world to become perfect, we cast our line in the midst of an imperfect world with the hopeful expectancy which comes through the gospel of Jesus Christ, knowing that the adventure which awaits is one worth the risk of losing our lives in order to find it.

God grant me the grace to face the chaos of the waters.

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Thoughts…Assessing our Times

It wasn’t long ago that I read in Os Guinness’ book The Call these important words:

Our challenge is not just to see the mistakes of a previous generation, obvious because not ours, but to see as well the problem of our own time, far closer and therefore harder to see.

Those words have hung with me now for months.  I’ve contemplated them as I’ve considered my own place in time, my place in the church, and my position in the world.  I’ve heard different assessments of the time that we live in, from doomsday prophecy to pronouncements that there has been no better time to be alive.  I’ve wondered if there is a posture that can assign proper gravity to the pitfalls of our era while upholding the true marvels of our age.  To do so would not be easy, and would require serious, deep thinking, careful discernment, and humility in spirit.

My thoughts on this matter have been furthered by the recent completion of David F. Wells’ book No Place for Truth or Whatever Happened to Evangelical Theology?  The book is full of challenges.  Wells depicts contemporary evangelical faith as quite bankrupt.  He is amazed that theology has in large measure disappeared from evangelical thought, and has passed away with little notice.  His book chronicles the shift which has occurred as churches have become professionalized in their ministries, with seminaries pushing the trend.  The church’s institutions of higher learning have become more focused on equipping pastors to be friendly personalities and effective conflict managers, and have left them devoid of the ability to think biblically and theologically about how they might lead.  Pastors serve the role of psychologists and managers, addressing felt needs, soothing damaged egos, and managing congregations according to the direction of popular opinion.  His observations apply mainly to the church in North America.  He notes different trends which have taken place over the past 100 years, such as the decreasing tenure of many pastors.  He claims this has had the effect of depersonalizing the ministry and removing the pastor’s connection to any particular place, making it difficult for the pastor to have an incarnational ministry.  The book ends with a thundering challenge for the reclamation of theology and an open invitation for dialogue on how people called “Christian” speak concerning truth and error.

On the other extreme, as I have mentioned, have been those (all voices I’ve heard in the U.S.) who claim that all is well, and in fact, the world has never been better.  This has been a direct counter in North American Christianity to the widespread perception that the world is soon coming to an end.  I find this a bit hard to swallow.  This reaction reminds me of the words found in the book of the prophet Jeremiah, “They have healed the brokenness of my people superficially saying, “Peace, Peace,” but there is no peace.” (Jer. 6:14)

Yes, technological wonders abound.  Medicine has advanced beyond what might have been imaginable over the last 100 years.  Transportation is now incredibly diverse and easy–from North America we can travel anywhere in the world.  And the internet has put everything at our doorstep.  We have some wonderful and incredible stuff at which we can marvel, which, when used responsibly, can increase enjoyment of life.

On the other hand, the last century has seen two World Wars, outbreaks of genocide, and the development of the most deadly weapons produced in human history.  We’ve seen some of this centuries most notable philosophers wrestle with deep existential angst, questioning the meaning of existence and whether or not life is worthwhile.  The thought of Camus and Sarte are good examples of philosophers whose existentialism reveal deep despair.  As for other issues, poverty is still very real.  Racism is still a plague.  Things are better, sure, but it seems we still have work to do–as will be true throughout this age.

What to do in the meantime?  As a person who calls Jesus “Lord,” I believe that we exist in “the time between the times.”  Jesus has been raised, signaling the onset of a new age.  The church waits patiently for his return.  ”Come, Lord Jesus” remains our prayer.  As we wait, we are called to participate in the Kingdom of God as disciples, declaring allegiance to our King who is Jesus.  Discipleship to Jesus will entail an adjustment of vision, which will enable his followers to both see and exist truthfully within the world.  This will include the demythologization of the times in which we live, naming the powers and principalities which stand in opposition to life in the Kingdom.

The Kingdom of God cannot be established by our own efforts, as Karl Barth rightly asserted.  It must be patiently waited for and received.  I’m not claiming that waiting is easy.  I’m not claiming that while I wait “all is well” or “the world is going to hell.”  My theological perspective leads me to look for those places where God is remaking, renewing, and redeeming our world.  I’m trying to acknowledge those places in our world where the Reign of God is being made manifest, while going to places of pain where the Kingdom of God needs to be announced.  It seems as though life following after Jesus requires that I attempt to do both, striving with the community called Church to assess the times we live in a manner which we humbly submit is truthful.

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