"I like to qoute Chuck Primus, who taught Judaica at Notre Dame when I was teaching there. He says, 'Any religion that doesn't tell you what to do with your pots and pans and genitals can't be interesting.'"
(Hauerwas)
Pithy humor aside, Hauerwas would say that one's pots and pans are a symbol of economic life in general. It matters how we make our money, how much we make, and what we do with it: it matters how we obtain the things that sustain our lives. These are not private matters for Christians. The Church has a claim on them; things kept private tend to rot.
Now, the same can be said, of course, for one's genitals. It is obviously an affront to the non-believing culture that any group of people would seek to tell them what to do with their body parts. But this same spirit of self-rule is quite common among the faithful as well. We've got a silly notion in our minds that once a marriage vow is made, all bets are off and the bedroom becomes the married couple's own private enterprise. But marriage is not the end of chastity. In many ways it is only the beginning.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
the weakness of the truth
When it comes down to it, the truth turns out to be quite weak in this world. Of course, it looks good on paper, but when the truth is brought into a world of broken relations, a world of greed that hides itself from the light, suddenly it is the weakest remedy out there. The truth gets crucified, really. It's not a shield, it's a noose. And isn't that our faith? Did not truth himself ("Light from Light, True God from True God" - i.e., looking good on paper) come to his own and find himself rejected? Is not truth a man of sorrows?
The key to Christian peace is the realization that it can only be birthed, strengthened, and aged in weakness. Christian peace is cruciform shaped. It promises no utilitarian results. It sure as hell will not make you money (if it does, it's not the real deal). Christian peace is not contentious for the sake of argument; it is contentious only in that it cannot deny Christ, and that this refusal is, to the powers of this world, really quite upsetting. Real peace works on the principal of the cross: it understands that it will seemingly fail and that those who seek to carry it will die (in part, or parts, or, at times, entirely). It is, as St. Paul asserted so long ago, foolishness.
Of course, to the outside observer, for example, the fact that a small, lifeless seed could be planted into the ground and ever emerge again - let alone as a wondrous fruit-bearing tree - is foolish too. It is foolish not in that the seed does not have the grace to become what it should be, but it is foolish in that we as a people have forgotten all about grace, and God's design, and his terrifying and beautiful way of working things out.
Now, of course, the truth is the truth is the truth. In a way, it is strong and invincible - it is what it is and it is immutable. But the Truth as a presence in this fallen world is cruciform, cross-bearing, and crucified. It will not get you anywhere in life. It might ruin your life, actually- and praise God, because the things we compose our "life" of these days are ruinous enough already.
How awesome it can be though, to be a truth-bearing people. To be such is to be a people stamped with the invincible weakness of their peaceful God. To be this fragrance of Christ Jesus to the world, is to be a fragrance of the utter revolution of the cross. It will get us no where in life, but it will bring us life.
The key to Christian peace is the realization that it can only be birthed, strengthened, and aged in weakness. Christian peace is cruciform shaped. It promises no utilitarian results. It sure as hell will not make you money (if it does, it's not the real deal). Christian peace is not contentious for the sake of argument; it is contentious only in that it cannot deny Christ, and that this refusal is, to the powers of this world, really quite upsetting. Real peace works on the principal of the cross: it understands that it will seemingly fail and that those who seek to carry it will die (in part, or parts, or, at times, entirely). It is, as St. Paul asserted so long ago, foolishness.
Of course, to the outside observer, for example, the fact that a small, lifeless seed could be planted into the ground and ever emerge again - let alone as a wondrous fruit-bearing tree - is foolish too. It is foolish not in that the seed does not have the grace to become what it should be, but it is foolish in that we as a people have forgotten all about grace, and God's design, and his terrifying and beautiful way of working things out.
Now, of course, the truth is the truth is the truth. In a way, it is strong and invincible - it is what it is and it is immutable. But the Truth as a presence in this fallen world is cruciform, cross-bearing, and crucified. It will not get you anywhere in life. It might ruin your life, actually- and praise God, because the things we compose our "life" of these days are ruinous enough already.
How awesome it can be though, to be a truth-bearing people. To be such is to be a people stamped with the invincible weakness of their peaceful God. To be this fragrance of Christ Jesus to the world, is to be a fragrance of the utter revolution of the cross. It will get us no where in life, but it will bring us life.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Hauerwas on Liberalism as Assumption
"Liberalism, in its many forms and versions, presupposes that society can be organized without any narrative that is commonly held to be true. As a result it tempts us to believe that freedom and rationality are independent of narrative - that is, we are free to the extent that we have no story. Liberalism is, therefore, particularly pernicious to the extent that it prevents us from understanding how deeply we are captured by its account of existence."
(From his essay, "Reforming Christian Social Ethics: Ten Theses", 1981)
It goes without saying that Hauerwas here is not contrasting the "liberalism" of the Democrats with the supposed "conservatism" of the Republicans. Rather, he is assuming that both parties and most Christians have bought into Liberalism proper, as the great American project, a sort of Western salvation.
There is a reason why the Church and American ideals cannot coalesce. One need only spend one week of one's life in the services of Holy Week and Pascha to know that we Christians have a story, and that it is a story that claims - audaciously - the be the most fitting story there is. It runs contrary to the notion that the freedom to create oneself is the human quality, par excellence. It claims, rather, that this type of freedom is idiocy at best, demonic at worst.
(From his essay, "Reforming Christian Social Ethics: Ten Theses", 1981)
It goes without saying that Hauerwas here is not contrasting the "liberalism" of the Democrats with the supposed "conservatism" of the Republicans. Rather, he is assuming that both parties and most Christians have bought into Liberalism proper, as the great American project, a sort of Western salvation.
There is a reason why the Church and American ideals cannot coalesce. One need only spend one week of one's life in the services of Holy Week and Pascha to know that we Christians have a story, and that it is a story that claims - audaciously - the be the most fitting story there is. It runs contrary to the notion that the freedom to create oneself is the human quality, par excellence. It claims, rather, that this type of freedom is idiocy at best, demonic at worst.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Whole lot of sin going on these days...
Sin is like that little cat you found on the street and took home to feed, only to discover that it had turned into a lion, killed your wife and children while you were away, and has now trapped you, the bewildered fool upon his return, in the bathroom. Don’t bring it home, friends.
But it’s worth saying that the life of repentance is untenable. To repent is to live as if one had eternal life, that is to say God, within; it’s to live as if the world were not an exercise in the survival of the fittest. To repent is to give way to the other because one has faith that in giving way, one’s self won’t actually be destroyed – or at least not in a way that is final. To repent and submit to God and the other is to, in effect, walk off a cliff. One must have faith that, through Christ, there is life in that sort of crazy death.
What I am trying to say is that taking the cat into one’s house is, it seems, reasonable. The other option is terrifying. Better the roaring lion of sin than the crucified lion of Judah. We believe, deep within, that we can actually control the former. The latter, however, isn't ours to control at all, and we fear and avoid him for it. The irony is that sin actually ends up to be a cruel master, and Christ, we are told, can set us free.
I am sure this is understandable.
Sin is like that little cat you found on the street and took home to feed, only to discover that it had turned into a lion, killed your wife and children while you were away, and has now trapped you, the bewildered fool upon his return, in the bathroom. Don’t bring it home, friends.
But it’s worth saying that the life of repentance is untenable. To repent is to live as if one had eternal life, that is to say God, within; it’s to live as if the world were not an exercise in the survival of the fittest. To repent is to give way to the other because one has faith that in giving way, one’s self won’t actually be destroyed – or at least not in a way that is final. To repent and submit to God and the other is to, in effect, walk off a cliff. One must have faith that, through Christ, there is life in that sort of crazy death.
What I am trying to say is that taking the cat into one’s house is, it seems, reasonable. The other option is terrifying. Better the roaring lion of sin than the crucified lion of Judah. We believe, deep within, that we can actually control the former. The latter, however, isn't ours to control at all, and we fear and avoid him for it. The irony is that sin actually ends up to be a cruel master, and Christ, we are told, can set us free.
I am sure this is understandable.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Hauerwas on aspects of celibacy and marriage
An interesting observation on the prophetic purpose of celibacy in the early church:
"The early church's legitimation of singleness as a form of life symbolized the necessity of the church to grow through witness and conversion. Singleness was legitimate, not because sex was thought to be a particularly questionable activity, but because the mission of the church was such that 'between the times' [that is, between the first and second comings of Jesus] the church required those who were capable of complete service to the Kingdom. And we must remember that the 'sacrifice' made by the single is not that of 'giving up sex,' but the much more significant sacrifice of giving up heirs. There can be no more radical act than this, as it is the clearest institutional expression that one's future is not guaranteed by the family, but by the church." (emphasis mine)
And, bringing in marriage, he writes:
"If singleness is a symbol of the church's confidence in God's power to affect lives for the growth of the church, marriage and procreation are the symbols of the church's understanding that the struggle will be long and arduous. For Christians do not place their hope in their children, but rather their children are a sign of their hope, in spite of the considerable evidence to the contrary, that God has not abandoned this world."
(From the essay Sex in Public, 1978)
"The early church's legitimation of singleness as a form of life symbolized the necessity of the church to grow through witness and conversion. Singleness was legitimate, not because sex was thought to be a particularly questionable activity, but because the mission of the church was such that 'between the times' [that is, between the first and second comings of Jesus] the church required those who were capable of complete service to the Kingdom. And we must remember that the 'sacrifice' made by the single is not that of 'giving up sex,' but the much more significant sacrifice of giving up heirs. There can be no more radical act than this, as it is the clearest institutional expression that one's future is not guaranteed by the family, but by the church." (emphasis mine)
And, bringing in marriage, he writes:
"If singleness is a symbol of the church's confidence in God's power to affect lives for the growth of the church, marriage and procreation are the symbols of the church's understanding that the struggle will be long and arduous. For Christians do not place their hope in their children, but rather their children are a sign of their hope, in spite of the considerable evidence to the contrary, that God has not abandoned this world."
(From the essay Sex in Public, 1978)
Monday, November 16, 2009
Preparing for Nativity
We await this first coming with the preparatory cries of the Baptist: “Repent, and believe in the Gospel”. We await this first coming, in many ways, like we await the second: prayer and fasting, vigil and, to be sure, not a little hope. Come, Lord Jesus. He comes first in the glory of humility, nine months of patience in a Virgin’s womb, after an eternity of looking over all things, knowing the depths to which his own love would reach. And he will come again, they say, in another type of glory. There will be a certain humbleness in that coming too, for God has revealed that humility is, paradoxically, a divine characteristic. But however it will work itself out is not open to us, really. Not many things are open to us - a fact which, when we consider how we handle what God has given us, should likely be considered a blessing.
The homilist commented yesterday that just how it is that Christ, in his coming, will make both mercy and justice perfectly manifest in his creation is not for us to know. It is for us to believe, but not to know. We too often, while waiting for him, make it our task to fumble about trying to implement an imitation of his justice. We call it, nowadays, “social justice”. Done rightly, with the grace of mercy, it is a good thing. Done wrongly, it breeds such spite and such a distaste of those others, Christian and non-Christian, who are “ignorant” “unlearned” and most particularly “unjust”. Ours is almost always a justice without mercy. Really, it’s just a weasel-like sort of hatred. Would that God would put it in our hearts to practice something like “social mercy” – a self-conscious practice of weeping for our sins, among other things (didn’t the monks have something to say about this already?).
It is the Lord that will make justice and mercy meet. He comes to do this in a cave, in a temple, on a cross, in a tomb. He does it now in the hearts of beings far more infinite and able to receive his love than they are quite able to understand. The saints have, by faith and grace, been able to practice this eschatological justice and mercy in their life. And just what awesome and holy creatures they have become because for it is, to a large degree, beyond a sinner’s measure to understand. Came, coming, come again. Now, as we wait, we must repent and believe in the Gospel. What Gospel? The Gospel wherein things that we do not think could ever meet actually do: justice and mercy, the cross and an empty tomb, humanity and God – Jesus Christ, so to speak. We must follow the Virgin and treasure all these things in our hearts for now. It is there the battle is ultimately won or lost. The victory or defeat therein carries itself out into the world, bearing the fruit of life or the fruit of death.
The homilist commented yesterday that just how it is that Christ, in his coming, will make both mercy and justice perfectly manifest in his creation is not for us to know. It is for us to believe, but not to know. We too often, while waiting for him, make it our task to fumble about trying to implement an imitation of his justice. We call it, nowadays, “social justice”. Done rightly, with the grace of mercy, it is a good thing. Done wrongly, it breeds such spite and such a distaste of those others, Christian and non-Christian, who are “ignorant” “unlearned” and most particularly “unjust”. Ours is almost always a justice without mercy. Really, it’s just a weasel-like sort of hatred. Would that God would put it in our hearts to practice something like “social mercy” – a self-conscious practice of weeping for our sins, among other things (didn’t the monks have something to say about this already?).
It is the Lord that will make justice and mercy meet. He comes to do this in a cave, in a temple, on a cross, in a tomb. He does it now in the hearts of beings far more infinite and able to receive his love than they are quite able to understand. The saints have, by faith and grace, been able to practice this eschatological justice and mercy in their life. And just what awesome and holy creatures they have become because for it is, to a large degree, beyond a sinner’s measure to understand. Came, coming, come again. Now, as we wait, we must repent and believe in the Gospel. What Gospel? The Gospel wherein things that we do not think could ever meet actually do: justice and mercy, the cross and an empty tomb, humanity and God – Jesus Christ, so to speak. We must follow the Virgin and treasure all these things in our hearts for now. It is there the battle is ultimately won or lost. The victory or defeat therein carries itself out into the world, bearing the fruit of life or the fruit of death.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
More on community and individualism and the forming of good people - and a wee bit of humor for good measure
William Cavanaugh, writing about Stanley Hauweras:
"He is, in the fullest sense of the word, a character, and his personality illustrates one of the central paradoxes of tradition-based community; the more deeply one has been formed by a good community, the freer one is to be onself. Conversely, one of the ironies of modern indivdualism is its tendency to produce uniformity, a trap from which we struggle to free ourselves through consumption of arbitrarily differentiated products, as in our pathetic trying to 'have it your way' at Burger King".
And further on down:
"Being formed in the Christian virtues is not a matter of choosing the right community, but rather acknowledging the fact that Christ is revealed in those with whom we have the great good fortune to be stuck."
And, a non-related bit of advice for laughs:
"I once heard a priest tell his congregation, 'If God gave you a good voice, sing out and thank Him. If God gave you a lousy voice, sing out and pay Him back.'"
(all from "Stan the Man", a personal introduction to Stanley Hauweras by William Cavanaugh, located at the beginning of The Hauerwas Reader)
"He is, in the fullest sense of the word, a character, and his personality illustrates one of the central paradoxes of tradition-based community; the more deeply one has been formed by a good community, the freer one is to be onself. Conversely, one of the ironies of modern indivdualism is its tendency to produce uniformity, a trap from which we struggle to free ourselves through consumption of arbitrarily differentiated products, as in our pathetic trying to 'have it your way' at Burger King".
And further on down:
"Being formed in the Christian virtues is not a matter of choosing the right community, but rather acknowledging the fact that Christ is revealed in those with whom we have the great good fortune to be stuck."
And, a non-related bit of advice for laughs:
"I once heard a priest tell his congregation, 'If God gave you a good voice, sing out and thank Him. If God gave you a lousy voice, sing out and pay Him back.'"
(all from "Stan the Man", a personal introduction to Stanley Hauweras by William Cavanaugh, located at the beginning of The Hauerwas Reader)
Thursday, November 12, 2009
link
Well, if you can stomach the packaging, this interview with Fr. Zacharias Zacharou, a disicple of the Elder Sophrony, is a great encouragement. This humble and gentle man's voice and words reminds one, simply, of a rock.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Flu is got me down. No work, no school. Just bed and movies. I am at the mercy of those that come and go out of the house. It's not too bad a state to be in, really.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Jerome on poverty and on why it is okay to praise a woman
St. Jerome, by no means an excessively pleasant or overly tender man, wrote a letter to a young woman named Principia, lauding the life of the then recently deceased St. Marcella (325-410).
He praises Marcella especially for her self-denial, for "forsaking both wealth and rank she sought the true nobility of poverty and lowliness...of gold she would not wear so much as a seal-ring, choosing to store her money in the stomachs of the poor".
St. Jerome, feeling eventually a bit sheepish about his enthusiasm, defends himself: "The unbelieving reader may perhaps laugh at me for dwelling so long on the praises of a mere woman; yet if he will but remember how holy women followed our Lord and Saviour and ministered to Him of their substance...he will convict himself of pride sooner than me of folly. For we judge of people's virtue not by their sex but by their character".
(From his 123rd Letter)
He praises Marcella especially for her self-denial, for "forsaking both wealth and rank she sought the true nobility of poverty and lowliness...of gold she would not wear so much as a seal-ring, choosing to store her money in the stomachs of the poor".
St. Jerome, feeling eventually a bit sheepish about his enthusiasm, defends himself: "The unbelieving reader may perhaps laugh at me for dwelling so long on the praises of a mere woman; yet if he will but remember how holy women followed our Lord and Saviour and ministered to Him of their substance...he will convict himself of pride sooner than me of folly. For we judge of people's virtue not by their sex but by their character".
(From his 123rd Letter)
Monday, November 2, 2009
seeing what's there
"For I had placed myself behind my own back, refusing to see myself."
-A confession of St. Augustine, book eight
Amen. After taking a peak, he admits, "I saw it all and stood aghast, but there was no place where I could escape from myself."
-A confession of St. Augustine, book eight
Amen. After taking a peak, he admits, "I saw it all and stood aghast, but there was no place where I could escape from myself."
Sunday, November 1, 2009
more on intentional community (from the Ancients!)
I read the following from St. Augustine, and couldn't help grinning, as he describes his attempted intentional community. It fits well with this Berry qoute posted earlier here
A group of my friends who detested the bustle and worry of life had all but decided to live a life of peace away from the crowd. We had thought over this project and discussed it a great deal. The plan was to arrange this life of leisure by pooling our possessions and using such money as we had between us to create a common fund. In the spirit of sincere friendship none of us would claim this or that as his own, but all would be thrown together and the whole would belong to each and to all. We thought that there might be about ten members of our community....
-From the Confessions, book six.
This, of course, was prior to Augustine's conversion. It didn't seem to work out. Some of the men who wanted to live in the community were married, and "when we began to ask ourselves whether the women would agree to the plan, all our carefully made arrangements collapsed and broke to pieces in our handsd and were discarded" (Book 6). No commentary necessary.
A group of my friends who detested the bustle and worry of life had all but decided to live a life of peace away from the crowd. We had thought over this project and discussed it a great deal. The plan was to arrange this life of leisure by pooling our possessions and using such money as we had between us to create a common fund. In the spirit of sincere friendship none of us would claim this or that as his own, but all would be thrown together and the whole would belong to each and to all. We thought that there might be about ten members of our community....
-From the Confessions, book six.
This, of course, was prior to Augustine's conversion. It didn't seem to work out. Some of the men who wanted to live in the community were married, and "when we began to ask ourselves whether the women would agree to the plan, all our carefully made arrangements collapsed and broke to pieces in our handsd and were discarded" (Book 6). No commentary necessary.
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