Category: theology

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


O Blogger Where Art Thou?

A great silence it seems has fallen across the theo-blogosphere.

Ben Myers has become sporadic and relatively uninteresting.

Halden Doerge has been reduced to throwing up quotes and meta-observations on blogging.

David Congdon flared up for a moment but I doubt that will be sustained.

D W Horstkoetter is ABD but that has not affected his output.

Church and PoMo Culture is simply flat.

Dan and memoria dei post less often but are usually worth the wait.

Where shall I go from here?  I rely on the kindness of strangers for my theological engagement.

It seems AUFS remains the primary and most high level theology (related) blog (and it would cringe to be so named!).

Perhaps WIT and Jesus Radicals can also fill some of the void.

Who is emerging to take the place of these  stewards of virtual discourse?  Am I missing something? O blogger where art thou?

I Object!

From a recent Globe and Mail article,

What attracts native-born Canadians to church these days, says religion sociologist David Seljak of St. Jerome’s University in Waterloo, Ont., is the availability of parking, quality of preaching and children’s programs, in that order.

I object!  I know from direct anecdotal evidence that children’s programs ranks higher in drawing attendance than quality of preaching.  As a minister of the Gospel I am deeply offended by this accusation.

Digging Into the End

I remember when my little brain first gained the conceptual ability to ponder (outer) space.  I let my mind wander as far as it would go into space.  It traveled deeper and deeper where the star lights began to grow dim.  Then light became absent.  Things slowed down but my mind continued.  Eventually my mind reached a wall, or more accurately a corner, a point where my mind was funneled.  This is the end, there is no further.  But the thought came to me, What if I began to dig into the end?

This thinking always comes back to me when the question of immanence and transcendence surfaces.  It always supported, in my mind, a position of transcendence.  I no longer see this as the case.  I see the question now more as a Hebrew one; that is a question of boundary.  In any  event I have been trying to think through various expressions of immanence lately.  Most of them are loosely or directly connected with Gilles Deleuze (and seems to characterize much of the contributions at AUFS).  Currently I am reading Philip Goodchild’s Deleuze and Guattari: An Introduction to the Politics of Desire.  As I am working through many things I do not understand I came across a very helpful and short statement on understanding immanence.

A truly critical philosophy can only be judged by the immanence of its criteria: it must do what it says, and say what it does.  It becomes a being-thought: a thought of being and a being of thought.  The second limit of critical philosophy is therefore a pure plane of immanence; this is the only possible meaning of the ‘end of philosophy’.  Immanence does not mean the absence of determination; rather, it implies that all that one is should be put into how one thinks, so that one’s entire mode of existence may be changed by encounters and idea within thought. [emphasis added]

This is far and away the most helpful thinking I have encountered in this discussion.  I have always approached the question as a jockeying for position over transcendence.  Who is policing the boundaries?  Who is claiming access or insight into the other side?  Who has dug through the end?  Goodchild’s (or Delueze’s) posture orients the question much more existentially and in many ways reminds me of statements found in Dostoevsky’s Notes from the Underground in which the Underground Man attempts to face himself.

There are certain things in a man’s past which he does not divulge to everybody but, perhaps, only to his friends.  Again there are certain things he will not divulge even to his friends; he will divulge them perhaps only to himself, and that, too, as a secret.  But, finally, there are things which he is afraid to divulge even to himself, and every decent man has quite an accumulation of such things in his mind.

. . .

I particularly want to put the whole thing to the test to see whether I can be absolutely frank with myself and not be afraid of the whole truth.

This thinking has no interest in the perception from outside as an abstracted and inaccessible site of conversation.  This thinking desires to put all into play; a venture of risk and trust.  I cannot rely on a secure deposit outside the relations of this world.  What else is kenosis?  As such this becomes a venture that may offer traction to the Christian notion of faith.  And perhaps more importantly this thinking may actually put flesh on the possibility of conversion.

Book Review – Anarchy and Apocalypse

Ronald E. Osborn. Anarchy and Apocalypse: Essays on Faith Violence, and Theodicy (Cascade Books, 2010).

Osborn’s short collection of essays is one of the more eclectic publications I have read in some time.  Faith and violence are indeed the mingled themes that bind this work together; having said that, however, the collection is somewhat nomadic moving from shorter almost op-ed pieces to longer more technical engagements.  Osborn’s introduction claims that a possible underlying ‘project’ here is an attempt to relate anarchist and Christian approaches to nonviolence.

Continue reading “Book Review – Anarchy and Apocalypse” →

I Saw the Future

In the past two weeks I have visited a number of seniors in my congregation.  I have to say that the experience has been a little unnerving.  In these visits I encountered paranoia, gibberish and sexual frustration.  All the while I walk the halls to find a particular room and a particular person and in the process pass by men and women sitting with their heads tilting back and to the side staring at the ceiling or staring at nothing at all.  Some moan.  Shouting can be heard coming from some rooms.  This, I imagine, is the fate of the majority of westerners; that is if they are lucky enough to be able to afford one of these places and can get in.  There is nothing absolutely nothing in nature to preserve our mind and body.  It is the natural order to become decrepit and crazy.  One woman was fondling my hands continually repeating it would be wonderful if my hand could be outside . . . could my hand be outside . . . do you think my hand could be outside.  This is the culmination of life.  There is no dignity ahead.  Know that now.  Let that inform you now.  These people are not becoming less human they are becoming more human.  They are returning to our original essence which is formless and void.  Hold on and reinforce all you want.

Really, though, these people are crazy . . . and we accept it.  It is more human to be crazy than to be not crazy.  I remember one piece of graffiti I saw which read all of god is insane.  It was the ‘all’ that got me.  But they are not crazy and god is not insane.  We build out of ineternal materials and so we slow down the flow of divinity thinking it will cease, reside, rest but the Tent must always move.  And when a middle aged person acts like any single person I am referring to above then we fear.  And at times for good reason for they are still strong enough to enact this strange divinity.  They are in step with the speed and we cannot keep up.  No I am still wrong.  We are all crazy.  It is simply a numbers game.  How many people are convinced of which truth.  Love is what differentiates.  Love is what cuts along the the arbitrary horizon of sanity.

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.

A Call for Theo-political Readings

I was sent a link to the following youtube video.  The Messiah continues to strike me as an overwhelmingly political statement and given the context and players involved in this video I started feeling great dissonance.  Was the kingdom of this world becoming the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ through irruptive means?  Was the kingdom of Lord and of his Christ reified as a free toy for your food court meal?  I welcome readings to clear the dissonant and disturbing sounds still ringing my ears.

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 Good Neighbourhood

My wife and I recently purchased our first home.  The house is located in a neighbourhood of Winnipeg in which I have spent the vast majority of my adult Manitoba life.  Moving back from Ontario it was like coming back home.  I am referring to the Spence Neighbourhood in the West End of Winnipeg.  I have lived on Spence St, Young St and I now reside on Langside.  What is clear to me is that everyone, everyone from Winnipeg somehow knows this is a ‘bad’ neighbourhood.  This is so implicitly ingrained in my psyche that when I tell people where our house was I began to rationalize or justify or downplay our decision.  The truth is that I am not sure I can think of a more desirable neighbourhood to live in (maybe the Exchange District).  I love it here.  So I have decided to stop making any additional commentary when I tell people where our house is located.

What I have noticed (after the pause in conversation when I tell them) is that people are now filling in the justification for me or making explicit the public perception (One person actually asked, Isn’t that a scary neighbourhood?).  What is going on here?  Are people actually concerned about my safety?  Maybe.  Do people have a clue what this neighbourhood is actually like?  Probably not.  I would like to propose that maybe part of the need to react to my choosing and (of all things) embracing this neighbourhood is that it subtly questions dominant cultural motivations for home owning . . . namely fear.  In as much as people choose homes out of desires and preferences for this-that-and-the-other I found that house hunting played as much on my fears as anything else.  Will this place retain its value?  Is this a safe neighbourhood?  How will our house and neighbourhood reflect how people view us? These can quickly become dominant motivations as cities have driven for decades now away from the depraved city centres to faux Edens with green lawns, no sidewalks and high fences.

I recognize that our house purchase does not give me any moral high-ground in this larger conversation but our decision has exposed something in myself and seemingly in others.  Our decisions are caught up in a larger system in which we are all participants.  We affirm each other in our decision in live in a ‘good’ neighbourhood.  What defines a good neighbourhood?  I would venture the definition of a good neighbourhood as one in which I do not need to think about anything outside my immediate concerns.  A ‘bad’ neighbourhood then in is one in which outside concerns run in conflict to my own pattern of living.  Living in a ‘bad’ neighbourhood then becomes a call in itself to question our existing pattern of living.  It demands that I make explicit and conscious choices about the things that our world and society are being confronted with and how I am responding to them.  A good neighbourhood then is the capitalist dream.  It caters to my choice and provides the goods and services that will maintain my flow of interests and desires without obstruction.  So what is it again that is good about a good neighbourhood?