A few weeks ago in the first Sunday of Lent I challenged our congregation to fast from the fruits of privilege. One minor act on my part has been to ride the bus as often as possible. As a country-boy the bus has always been a source of fascination for me and this spiritual exercise paid dividends this last week as my experience ended comprising about half the sermon.
Category Archives: biblical
Between slavery and control
Perhaps this imagery goes without saying but I think there is still significant contemporary theo-political content to be developed from the Pentateuch. Here are some excerpts from last Sunday’s sermon on Leviticus 19,
I think one of the most misunderstood aspects of Leviticus as well as the first five books of the Old Testament in general is the notion that the commandments given represent some sort of static or fixed law. The center of Old Testament faith is not the following of particular laws. This may flow out from the center but the center of Old Testament faith is the presence of God. Everything in Leviticus as well as Exodus and Numbers finds its orientation in relationship with the Holy of Holies, the center of the Tabernacle, which was the Tent of Meeting, around which the Israelites camped as they travelled in the wilderness and when they first settled in Canaan. And what is at the center of the Holy of Holies? Inside that space is the Ark of the Covenant. The Ark is a box covered with a lid sometimes called the Mercy Seat that had two angels, called cherubim, mounted on either side on top. I view the Ark as a sort of frame.
At the center of other religions at that time there would tend to be a physical idol that would represent who or what was being worshipped. However, in the Tabernacle there was an empty space between the wings of the cherubim on top of the Ark. In the book of Exodus God says to Moses, “There I will meet with you, and from above the mercy seat, from between the two cherubim that are on the ark of the covenant, I will deliver to you all my commands for the Israelites.” What is the significance of this image? God comes to meet with Moses from the place that humanity cannot control and confine, in the space that is left open and empty. God cannot be directly equated with our conceptions, with our tradition or with our expectations. So while we have the framework, so to speak, of ethics and tradition that provide some continuity and stability we must always be open to the newness or aliveness that the love of God will speak into situations.
. . .
The Tabernacle by its nature is movable. The Tabernacle as well as Mt. Sinai exist in a special place in the Old Testament story. These sites exist between the experience of slavery in Egypt on one side and the experience of slowing taking power and control in Canaan on the other side. The Tabernacle exists in the freedom of reliance and dependence on God between and therefore beyond being enslaved or being in control. And as the author of the Gospel of John put it so well of Jesus saying literally that “the Word became flesh and tabernacled among us.” We are to learn to be a tabernacling people. . . . We remain a people with history and tradition but can these things be dismantled, stakes pulled up, to set up the site again in a new place?
. . .
And so like the nomadic Hebrew people of the wilderness we must nourish the ability to migrate, gather and frame the possibility of God’s holiness over the spaces between slavery and control. We gather and walk with one another and with our neighbours seeing how our objects, our actions and our minds relate to one another. This is the body of Christ that walked the earth 2000 years ago. He never grasped for political and social control and even when his body was ultimately grasped by these forms of control he never became enslaved to them. He always held open that space for the love of God which enters the world as the love of our neighbour as our self. This is to be the body of Christ today, that is the church, it is to spread and wander with eyes attentive to power and bondage and then to stand between them.
Original boredom and solving our financial crisis
While I have not posted on Either / Or the experience of volume 1 for a second go round is better than I expected. The problem is that it is a ‘popular’ work and so also a dated work. Can you imagine reading Zizek’s works over 100 years from now trying to piece together the pop-culture illusions? Either / Or is not that extreme though I am certainly feeling its distance. One of the pieces is volume 1 begins with a reflection on boredom as the root of evil. And because of this seeks to eliminate its evil presence. He takes finance as an example. Imagine trying to improve the economy by practicing economics!? How utterly boring and therefore sinful.
The history of this [evil] can be traced from the very beginning of the world. The gods were bored, and so they created man. Adam was bored because he was alone, and so Eve was created. Thus boredom entered the world, and increased in proportion to the increase of population. Adam was bored alone; then Adam and Eve were bored togethre; then Adam and Eve and Cain and Abel were bored en famille; then the population of the world increased, and the peoples were bored en masse. To divert themselves they conceived the idea of constructing a tower high enough to reach the heavens. This idea is itself as boring as the tower was high, and constitutes a terrible proof of how boredom gained the upper hand. The nations were scattered over the earth, just as people now travel abroad, but they continued to be bored. Consider the consequences of this boredom. Humanity fell from its lofty height, first because of Eve, and then from the Tower of Babel. What was it, on the other hand, that delayed the fall of Rome, was it not bread and circuses? And is anything to be done now? Is anyone concerned about planning some means of diversion? Quite the contrary, the impending ruin is being accelerated. It is proposed to improve the financial condition of the state by practicing economy. What could be more tiresome? Instead of increasing the national debt, it is proposed to pay it off. As I understand the political situation, it would be an easy matter for Denmark to negotiate a loan of fifteen million dollars. Why not consider this plan? Every once in a while we hear of a man who is a genius, and therefore neglects to pay his debts – why should not a nation do the same, if we were all agreed? Let us then borrow fifteen millions, and let us the proceeds, not to pay debts, but for public entertainment. Let us celebrate the millennium in a riot of merriment. Let us place boxes everywhere, not, as at present, for the deposit of money, but for the free distribution of money. Everything would become gratis; theaters gratis, women of easy virtue gratis, one would drive to the park gratis, be buried gratis, one’s eulogy would be gratis; I say gratis, for when one always has money at hand, everything is in a certain sense free. No one should be permitted to own any property. Only in my own case would there be an exception. I reserve to myself securities in the Bank of London to the value of one hundred dollars a day, partly because I cannot do with less, partly because the idea is mine, and finally because I may not be able to hit upon a new idea when the fifteen millions are gone.
The mockery of careful planning
I have always been a little uneasy with Jesus’ parable of ‘planning’ (Luke 14:28-31). Jesus asks whether the people would not plan ahead of time to make sure they had sufficient materials to complete a tower and sufficient soldiers for victory. The ‘moral of story’ as I have received it is that of the wise stewardship of resources. I could not quite put my finger on why this bugged me other than the fact that it seemed to propagate good, bland suburbanites. I’m not sure why I didn’t see it but the two images obviously have strong connections to the Old Testament in the Tower of Babel and David’s census taking. Both of these acts reflect careful planning. They are also both sins. Who has the materials to finish building a tower? The answer is no one, because a tower is never finished. Who has the man-power to win a war? The answer is no one, because a war is never over.
The parable drives this home in a way that should have made it clear. The parable is book-ended first by the command that one cannot follow if they do not first hate their family. And at the end of the parable Jesus offers a re-articulation that states that you cannot become a disciple if you do not give up all your possessions (i.e. ending the production of tower-building and war-making). The internal space of these commands is the mockery of ‘careful planning’.
Have You Seen This Dead God?
Lately it seems I cannot turn around without coming across the dead God. I have been reading Zizek again and instead of simply being playfully amused by his counter-intuitive insights I have begun to see more clearly his hegelian reading of the Trinity. God empties himself into Jesus and is split, de-centered from himself. And dies. The God of ‘beyond’ which can and does ground every ideology is emptied and the space of struggle, the Holy Spirit, is opened in this death. Traditional theology will tend to keep God the Father above and beyond pulling the strings and maintaining order. It is precisely that God that must be emptied into Jesus die for the purpose of salvation.
Man is eccentric with regard to God, but God himself is eccentric with regard to his own ground, the abyss of Godhead. . . . Christ’s death on the Cross thus means that we should immediately ditch the notion of God as a transcendent caretaker who guarantees the happy outcome of our acts, the guarantee of historical teleology – Christ’s death on the Cross is the death of this God, it repeats Job’s stance, it refuses any ‘deeper meaning’ that obfuscates the brutal reality of historical catastrophes. – The Monstrosity of Christ
I also recently finished reading Ronald Osborn’s Anarchy and Apocalypse. This is a relatively conservative appeal to the biblical resources of non-violence set within particular contemporary settings. However, here the dead God surfaces in the form of post-holocaust Jewish thought, namely that of Elie Wiesel. Wiesel sees God as the young child hung from his neck, dying and almost dead. This becomes the straightforward,
ethical as well as a religious imperative: if we are to remain human we must refuse passivity, ease, complacency, and fight for the justice which God, in His captivity, in the time of His banishment, cannot bestow. – Anarchy and Apocalypse
And all the reminded me of an old post I wrote reflecting on Kierkegaard’s test for true love which is to love someone dead. The dead is the absolute relationship. If the relationship of love changes it must be because of you, the variable element (no blaming the dead for not understanding you). To love one dead is love a non-being.
In order properly to test whether or not love is faithful, one eliminates everything whereby the object could in some way aid him in being faithful. But all this is absent in the relationship to one who is dead, one who is not an actual object. If love still abides, it is most faithful. – Works of Love
What is going on here? Will a decade, more or less, pass after which we will look back at these silly caricatures of theology? Or are these accounts already reflections and indictments of an already over-caricatured and debased theology and ecclesiology? I would like to call this theme humanist in its apparent rejection of God but that does quite do it justice. Death is something other than human or perhaps fully human; something that modern humanism (as I have encountered it) does quite seem to grasp. Also these accounts remain in many ways thoroughly theological. They are dealing with the dead God not with God as an illusion. It is this possible realism in theology that I find intriguing and potentially attractive.
And for your listening pleasure he is Gash’s 1986 God is Dead
Romans 13 – An Agambenian Reading
Romans 13 has long been a thorn in my Anabaptist side. Yoder of course went a long way in clarifying the distinction between being subject to those in authority and actually obeying those in authority. That reading however still left me with many unanswered questions as to what Paul is calling the church towards. In preparation for the Romans readings of this season of Advent I reread Giorgio Agamben’s The Time that Remains. In this reading the notion of messianic time functioning as “the time of bringing time to an end” became more clear and relevant as I was reading through Romans alongside his work. I interpret the structure of the world’s authority as functioning as a sort of limit to the mode in which humanity lives apart from the Spirit. As such the kingdom of the world is and will be coming to an end. This becomes significant for reading Romans 13. What struck me was the simple Greek structure of verse 7
ἀπόδοτε πᾶσιν τὰς ὀφειλάς,
τῷ τὸν φόρον τὸν φόρον,
τῷ τὸ τέλος τὸ τέλος,
τῷ τὸν φόβον τὸν φόβον,
τῷ τὴν τιμὴν τὴν τιμήν.
Pay back every debt
for tax, tax
for revenue, revenue
for fear, fear
for respect, respect
Then Paul adds significantly in verse 8,
Μηδενὶ μηδὲν ὀφείλετε
Be in indebted to no one for anything (I can’t comment on the double-negative in Greek here; I suspect it is common)
The process of relating to earthly authorities is that of closing down their economy, of divesting yourself of its structure (which is different than escaping it). The work then is not of revolt (necessarily) which is why this passage can be confused for quietism but rather that of rendering it inoperative an important Pauline term that Agamben stresses. I read this in light of Kierkegaard’s commentary on Paul’s And having overcome all, to stand. Much of our effort exists directly in relationship to opposition. Opposition in many cases is absolutely necessary for the existence of our work. I need the machine to rage against it. This is a reductionist characterization to be sure but I can’t help think of how many movements will simply fall down when the powers are removed from their pushing. In any even I take Paul to be doing something different than direct revolt. This does not necessarily clarify what we should then do with this reading but it demands that we not acquiesce to earthly authority but that we are continually in the active process of liberating ourselves and others from indebtedness.
To the extent that you are invested in this world whether tax, debt, fear or honour pay it back in kind so that all that remains in practice is the opening of love and not the foreclosure of debt. The work of this ‘flesh’ will continually be present in a humanly inescapable manner (who will rescue me from this body of death). We become though tools of light which cut through and create a division within the divisions of this world that constantly undermine and deactivate them. This is all exegetical rhetoric at this point. I have no idea what sort of tool I will function as what it demands though is that no position within world renders spiritual impossible. No system is dominant that it can, by its force, reclaim the new creation of the Messiah. This problematizes the typical leftist project as I would see it which continually stresses system as that which binds and liberates (though it does that at a certain level). I read this text and larger Pauline theology (in light of Agamben) as one which always supposes the freedom of the individual so that she might work within the place of her calling (and in communion with the saints) dividing the divisions and use this time for bringing time to an end.
The Gospel According to Adam Kotsko; And a Kotskotian Conspiracy
I recently checked the price of Adam Kotsko’s recent book The Politics of Redemption and fortunately it came up with “Look Inside” feature. I came across a content and tone of writing that may not regularly surface over at AUFS (note well that I am saying nothing of how the two forms relate . . . yet).
Christ restores connections that have been cut off, yet he doesn’t repeat the logic of possession by trying to control those he encounters. He forgives sins, but is remarkably reticent about how the forgiven should behave in the future, reflecting how often “sin” functions as a stigma rather than a good-faith moral assessment. He is chastised for his self-indulgence, and in his interactions with others, he very often seems to playing with them. His persuasiveness is therefore based not on rational argument, but first of all on his general way of being in the world – his simply willingness to be with people whom others shun or simply ignore, his evident enjoyment of them. His way of being does not end just with him, but spreads to others as a kind of “contagious sovereignty,” an empowerment that is predicated on empowering others rather than dominating them. Several of those he empowers are sent immediately to continue the work among their own people, implying that no implicit instruction is needed. His actual public teaching fits within this general pattern, mobilizing surprise in order to invite his readers to come to their own conclusions, a technique that is perhaps also motivated by the sheer pleasure that accompanies an unexpected narrative or discursive twist. Perhaps the clearest indication of Christ’s approach is the feeding of the multitude, where simple generosity and sharing result in a wholly unanticipated abundance.
Pages started breaking up too far apart to continue reading with any coherence after this quote.
Two things struck me. First this could have been plucked almost directly out of some of Jean Vanier’s works (especially content related to fear that surrounds this quote). Secondly this quote led me to a conspiracy theory. The Adam Kotsko of AUFS is a kierkegaardian pseudonym of the same name (to further nuance the matter) introducing an aesthetic form to the clear the way for his later moral and dogmatic expressions. It all makes sense now!
The Torah’s Vision of Worship – Part II.2 – The Liturgy of the Covenant; Covenant as Sanctuary Building and World Building
(Table of Contents for NOTCP series)
Exodus 25-40 deals primarily with the construction of the tabernacle which has been a hobby horse for many arm-chair architects over the years. Though if one approaches this section in such a pragmatic fashion you will be “faced with a unique combination of long-winded description on the one hand and total omission of various particulars on the other” (citing M. Haran, 137). Balentine, instead, explores the theological construction that is occurring in and around this section.
