The Fulfillment of Solidarity, Part 3

In Part 1 and Part 2, we have been working to pull together insights in modern economics from Paul Dumouchel's The Ambivalence of Scarcity with Jesus' exposition of the law in Matthew 5. In this final installment we arrive at Dumouchel's thesis of the modern economic concept of scarcity as a new form of sacred violence and conclude with questions about the fulfillment of solidarity as God's project to transform our economics -- and the call of discipleship to join that project through political engagement.

What if we read Matthew 5 in terms of a specific kind of 'law,' namely, solidarity obligations? The Beatitudes begin by striking the clear note of God's solidarity with the least in human community (5:1-12). We are salt and light when follow God's lead (5:13-16). But here's the fulfillment that Jesus comes to bring (5:17-20): such solidarity is no longer to be based on the mechanisms of sacred violence but on the perfect love of God come into the world through Jesus. The antitheses of Matthew 5:21-48 outline how love fulfills the law of solidarity such that amazing things can happen: anger can be defused, accused and accuser can be reconciled, lust can be dissipated, revenge short-circuited, and -- the unthinkable -- solidarity even with one's enemies. We can live that perfect love of God in ways that begin to fulfill God's true intent for the law -- solidarity of God's household, the family of creation.

"Economics": from the Greek oikos and nomos, "household law." In ancient times, that law was experienced through solidarity obligations that placed the emphasis on making sure the least in the household had their needs met. No one was in danger of dying of hunger unless everyone was. But the cost was having those obligations founded in sacred violence. When a situation arose that modern people call "extreme scarcity," a situation of everyone going hungry, it was the return of community-dissolving violence that was experienced, not "scarcity."

On what, then, is our modern economics grounded in? Not solidarity obligations. The effect of the Christian Revelation has been to loosen the underpinnings of sacred violence from such obligations, so that solidarity is an individual choice made within a system whose main protection is precisely for the individual (which Dumouchel calls the "law of exteriority"⁽¹⁾). Modern individualism thus allows persons to choose against solidarity with the least, and hence, ultimately, against the common good of the community. The gist of the opening quote from Dumouchel is that modernity follows the path of the Christian Revelation into a relaxing of many obligations held in former human political arrangements, but rejects the fulfillment of the most important of those obligations, solidarity with the least, that is central to the Christian Revelation.

We may thus propose that modernity has meant the rejection of God's Economics in light of Jesus' clear mission of launching "God's Kingdom." That the fulfillment of solidarity of all God's household is the coming of "God's Household Law" is decidedly not what we have with modern economics, where solidarity with the least is, at best, a sometimes-applauded individual choice. (With the philosophy of folks like Ayn Rand, solidarity with the least is even derided as a Christian vice that works against the virtues of the wealthy capitalist.⁽²⁾) At worst, Dumouchel effectively argues that the concept of scarcity in modern economics serves the same role of sacred violence -- that of justifying an allowable violence in the name of keeping other kinds of violence at bay. But the allowable violence justified by scarcity is quite different and uniquely modern: the violence of indifference to those who cannot survive without the help of others.

The modern person no more sees such indifference as violence than did the ancient person see immolating a person on an altar to the gods as violence. Dumouchel confirms Mahatma Gandhi's famous dictum that, "Poverty is the worst form of violence":

The invisibility of violence does not entail the invisibility of its consequences. Third parties are violent to one another in ways that they do not see and that are, paradoxically, the worst forms of violence that occur inside the system. We see around us the emergence of impoverished, miserable, excluded people to whom we have done nothing and never wished harm. Sacrificed victims appear, and we are the ones who have sacrificed them, by our indifference. Yet they are not generally our own victims. Since we do not see the link between our actions and these consequences, between our indifference and the poor, this strange phenomenon puzzles us.⁽³⁾

Modern followers of Christ may recognize this indifference as violence. Spurred on by the best of our leaders and writers -- Charles Dickens' famous example, for instance, of the transformation of Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol -- individual disciples may find their indifference transformed into a compassionate solidarity with the poor, through at least the individual choice of charity to those in need.

But here are the central questions posed by this essay: Can charity alone -- an individual's choice to reach out to the poor -- achieve Jesus' promised fulfillment of the law as solidarity of God's household? Or within the modern "law of exteriority" (the 'sacredness' of individualism) is charity only a partial fulfillment? Does the persistence, and even worsening, of poverty in our world confirm charity as only partial? In short: does the fulfillment of solidarity with the least in God's household ultimately mean a transformation of our human economical relationships? What would happen if the modern economic justification of indifference by the concept of scarcity was replaced by giving priority to valuing solidarity, based on a growing awareness of abundance? Bottom line: Does Jesus' promise that disciples may exceed the justice of the Pharisees mean that disciples are called to go beyond charity to political engagement? Are disciples of Jesus called to advocate for 'household laws' that more truly work for the common good of all?

Paul Nuechterlein
Contributing Theologian
Theology & Peace


1. Paul Dumouchel, The Ambivalence of Scarcity and Other Essays [MSU Press, 2014], 41-44. In previous human political arrangements, individuals viewed themselves as related internal to their group, with binding solidarity obligations. In the modern age of Western culture, with solidarity obligations weakened or relaxed, our relationships within any groups to which we belong are easily abandoned if they are felt to impinge on our freedom as individuals. Each person, when push comes to shove, sees him/herself as externally related to all others. Dumouchel's "law of exteriority" is "simply the pure evolution of modern individualism, the gradual externalization and alienation of members of society" (44) -- with the result that, "The exteriority of members of society transforms all individuals into potential sacrificial victims" (50). In short, we have the modern 'truth' that each person is only one personal disaster away from homelessness, with no one else bearing any obligation to help them.

2. Stephen Prothero, religion professor at Boston University, wrote this column, "You can't reconcile Ayn Rand and Jesus." For a similar viewpoint, but friendlier to Rand, see Yaholo Hoyt, "Ayn Rand vs. Jesus Christ: FIGHT!" But at a pivotal point of this latter essay, Hoyt proposes, "I think it is important to point out that Jesus made no direct claim that what he was asking us to do was better for society. In fact, the positive consequences of Christ's teachings are admittedly not fully provided in this life at all but 'in heaven.'" My viewpoint in this blog is that Jesus is making a direct claim for a better society -- a fulfilled creation, no less. The promise of God's law of the household being fulfilled is not only for 'in heaven' but for, as we pray, "on earth as in heaven."

3. Dumouchel, Scarcity, 53.

The Fulfillment of Solidarity, Part 2

In Part 1, we began reflections weaving together Matthew 5 with Paul Dumouchel's insights into understanding the shortcomings of modern economics in The Ambivalence of Scarcity and Other Essays. For openers, he challenges that scarcity as a human experience is based on the quantity of goods available. We looked first at the situation of an abundance of goods that is nonetheless experienced as a scarcity. Next . . .

That scarcity is a human experience not based on the quantity of goods available can even be seen in the circumstances of lacking necessary goods, if one knows when and where to look. Dumouchel's next key move is to take the readers to that when: back in time to archaic human communities, primarily through Marshall Sahlins' important book Stone Age Economics. ⁽¹⁾ Sahlins' study proposes that archaic peoples had no experience of scarcity at all. What they had plenty of he calls "solidarity obligations":

the family-based mode of production involves the failure of a number of units of production -- in other words, the inability of many households to meet their own needs. The rules of social solidarity that govern exchange then intervene to compensate for the failure. The wealthiest take care of the needs of the poorest. ⁽²⁾

In short, "in primitive societies, no one is in danger of dying of hunger unless everyone is." ⁽³⁾

What happens if everyone is dying of hunger? Don't they experience scarcity? Not really. At that point they experience violence and the threat of a complete breakdown of the community, a situation that tends toward everyone-against-everyone.

Those familiar with Mimetic Theory will recognize this as the "sacrificial crisis," a situation which will end in one of two ways: (1) the 'apocalyptic' dissolution of the community, imploding in its own violence; or (2), a new sacrificial act of all-against-one (or majority-against-minority) violence that re-founds the community. (In an archaic community, could the latter have even included cannibalism as the beginning of addressing the hunger crisis?)

What's crucial to see here is that even the "solidarity obligations" were dependent on the archaic experience of sacred violence, and the punishing gods who prop up the entire system. Solidarity obligations, which compel the richest to take care of the poorest, are certainly a good thing. But their underside was in being compelled to comply under the shadow of sacred violence.

It's time to return to our opening quotes. What if we read Matthew 5 in terms of a specific kind of 'law,' namely, solidarity obligations? The Beatitudes begin by striking the clear note of God's solidarity with the least in human community (5:1-12). We are salt and light when follow God's lead (5:13-16). But here's the fulfillment that Jesus comes to bring (5:17-20): such solidarity is no longer to be based on the mechanisms of sacred violence but on the perfect love of God come into the world through Jesus. The antitheses of Matthew 5:21-48 outline how love fulfills the law of solidarity such that amazing things can happen: anger can be defused, accused and accuser can be reconciled, lust can be dissipated, revenge short-circuited, and -- the unthinkable -- solidarity even with one's enemies. We can live that perfect love of God in ways that begin to fulfill God's true intent for the law -- solidarity of God's household, the family of creation.

In Part 3, we will conclude by considering Dumouchel's basic contention that modern economics replaces solidarity obligations with a concept of scarcity that justifies a new form of sacred violence -- that of indifference to the poor. So we close with questions around whether modern day discipleship can fully participate in Jesus' promised fulfillment of the law without going beyond charity into political engagement in economics.

Paul Nuechterlein
Contributing Theologian
Theology & Peace

 1. M. Sahlins, Stone Age Economics (Chicago: Aldine, 1972).
2. Paul Dumouchel, The Ambivalence of Scarcity and Other Essays [MSU Press, 2014], 18.
3. Ibid., 19, quoting K. Polanyi, The Great Transformation (Boston: Beacon Press, 1944), 46-47.

The Fulfillment of Scarcity, Part1

Jesus said, "Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. ¹⁸For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. ¹⁹Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. ²⁰For I tell you, unless your justice exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. ⁽¹⁾"

-- Matthew 5:17-20 ⁽²⁾

Given that the historical effect of Christianity is to progressively ruin the sacrificial system and that scarcity spontaneously emerges as traditional bonds of solidarity are abandoned, then we should expect this system to arise in a region where Christianity has long weakened these bonds. Why it emerged precisely where and when it did, as well as the role of the state in this process, is a question too complex to even begin to answer in the present context. Nonetheless, what mimetic theory gives us is a means for understanding the radical novelty of modern market economies and a reason for their "unnaturalness." Their historical specificity is related to the unique breakdown of the sacrificial system caused by Christian Revelation. It is also linked to rejection of that Revelation. Scarcity is what we live in, which is neither the sacred nor the Kingdom of God.

-- Paul Dumouchel, The Ambivalence of Scarcity and Other Essays ⁽³⁾

Taken together these two quotes can be seen to suggest that scarcity as a fundamental modern economic concept has arisen because we moderns reject Jesus' revelation of the fulfillment of the law. The justice of our modern economies fails to exceed the justice of the Pharisees (political leaders of Jesus' day) -- even though a majority of economic agents in the West throughout the modern era have claimed to be followers of Jesus. Dumouchel's analysis of scarcity in the light of Renè Girard's Mimetic Theory can help us to understand that failure.
 
The first key move in Dumouchel's essay is to understand that scarcity is a human experience not based on the quantity of goods available. ⁽⁴⁾ Consider, for example, the situation of a clear excess of goods in which those blessed with relative abundance continue to experience scarcity. The reality of mimetic desire is such that scarcity is experienced relative to our neighbor. Even if I possess an abundance of goods, I may still experience that as a scarcity if it is less than my more wealthy neighbor. Dumouchel cleverly quotes a modern textbook on economics which unwittingly undercuts its own definition of scarcity with this observation:

Compared with developing nations or previous centuries, modern industrial societies seem very wealthy indeed. But higher production levels seem to bring in their train ever-higher consumption standards. . . . People feel that they want and 'need' indoor plumbing, central heating, refrigerators, education, movies, radios, television, books, autos, travel, sports and concerts, privacy and living space, chic clothes, clean air and water, safe factories, and so forth. ⁽⁵⁾

That scarcity is a human experience not based on the quantity of goods available can even be seen in the circumstances of lacking necessary goods, if one knows when and where to look.

In Part 2, we will once again take Dumouchel as a guide to when and where to look to see how scarcity as a human experience is not based on a lacking of necessary goods, before rejoining these reflections to Matthew 5.

Paul Nuechterlein
Contributing Theologian
Theology & Peace
 
1. It is a mistake to read "kingdom of heaven" as meaning a realm separate from earth, as a hope somehow contrary to what our Lord teaches disciples to pray, 'your kingdom come ... on earth as in heaven.' For more on this, see my webpage on Matthew 5:1-12.

2. NRSV translation modified by author for only one word: "justice" in place of "righteousness" in verse 20 (Gr: dikaiosynē).

3. Paul Dumouchel, The Ambivalence of Scarcity and Other Essays [MSU Press, 2014], 105-6.

4. Dumouchel call this the aporia of scarcity -- that, "Scarcity corresponds to no real quantity" (ibid., 12). This is because mimetic desire induces a circular causality between production and needs: "higher levels of production lead to increased needs, and increased needs require even higher levels of production" (ibid., 11). Obviously, this is a recipe for unsustainability: "The ambivalence of scarcity dissimulates the eternal vanity of growth that has now led humanity down a suicidal path with respect to its natural environment" (ibid., 12).

5. P. Samuelson and W. D. Nordhaus, Economics, 12th ed. (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1985), 26. [Note: the 19th edition is the one currently available, McGraw-Hill, 2009.)

From Ashes to Elves

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday and I posted another meditation on the observance on my blog called Renouncing Self-Centered Renunciation.

I have made three posts on an anthropological approach to liturgy called Liturgical Animals. From the first installment, you should be able to follow the links to the second and third.

I have been reflecting quite a lot about economics and questions of economic justice. I have two posts on the subject called Mimetic Scarcity. This includes comments on Paul Dumouchel's book The Ambivalence of Scarcity and Other Essays which I have also reviewed. I also have posted a review on David Harvey's The Enigma of Capital and the Crises of Capitalism.

In Exile with Jesus offers a Christmas Season meditation about a baby who didn't have a place to lay his head.

The Tree of Salvation is a review of a book on Norse mythology and its transformation into Christianity which gives a Girardian reading of Nordic myth.

Above the Circle of the Earth is a sermon late in Epiphany which looks at the breakthrough in Second Isaiah in understanding creation in contradistinction to Babylonian myth.

Late in December I published a fantasy novella called The Forest of Windellynn that is aimed at young readers (ca. 9-12) but I hope is interesting for older readers as well. The plot is based on legends of elf abduction of children and Gwion, the young protagonist, has to rescue two friends and his sister from the elves. When Gwion encounters the persecutory culture of the elves, he eventually realizes how persecutory his own social life has been as he learns what it means to have a soul. I am hoping that this book might be helpful for young and older readers in understanding some of Girard's insights as well as being an enjoyable read. For those of you coming to the 2015 Theology and Peace conference, I will be bringing a few copies in case anybody is interested. As you can see from my blog page about the book, electronic copies are available in various formats.

Is Church a Four-Letter-Word with Six Letters in it?

Much of my thinking the past several weeks has been about Church---whatever that is. Since Girard's thought indicates that we have to live together whether we like it or not, the problem of Church just won't go away.

I have completed a five-part series called Christian Community. If you follow this first link, you can follow links at the end of each portion to move on to the next one.

The sermons I have had occasion to preach over this time are all relevant to my thoughts on ecclesiology.

King's Banquet--God's Banquet re: the Parable of the Wedding Banquet & the Guest without the wedding garment brings in more thoughts on the relationship between Church & Empire.

For All Saints, I preached Celebrating the Saints in our Lives. This is more celebratory, but I still can't overlook the fact that some saints have been martyred by their own church.

Then for the Gospel Parable of the Wise and Foolish Maidens: On Gathering with Those who Keep Oil in their Lamps. It is an interesting indication of the work of the Paraclete that many of us feel at least some sympathy for the foolish maidens, even though they are--well--foolish. Maybe it's because we are starting to see more of our own foolishness and need for the oil of God's mercy.

With my interest in fantasy literature, especially for young readers, I commented on two series that have just come to a conclusion, namely the Percy Jackson set about Greek and Roman demigods & The Unwind Dystology by Neal Schusterman:On Healing the Gods and the Social Body. I especially urge you to pay attention to Neal Schusterman as he shows some of the keenest insights into mimetic issues among writers catering to youth & the young of heart.

While on the subject of fantasy literature, I didn't expect much of the small trilogy The Cloak Society but I was pleasantly surprised by the character development & mimetic issues involved. Basically it is about a boy raised in a secret society of super-villains who, on his first job of helping with a bank hoist discovers he has a conscience. This link takes you to what I said about the first volume. You can look of the other two on GoodReads if you want to read those short reviews as well.

And then there is music. Is Girard relevant to music? Well, yes. I read "Absolute Music: the History of an Idea" because of my interest in music & found some Girardian themes you can read about in Rivalry over Pure Music.

Mimetic Forgiveness

Forgiveness issues have taken up pretty much all of my blog posts in the past few weeks. The Gospel texts from Matthew that have come up in the lectionary during this time has added to this. To give the order in Matthew's Gospel for my two postings which is the reverse of when I posted them: Binding and Loosing deals with the process of admonitions and Jesus' words about binding and loosing; The Sin Against the Holy Spirit deals with the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant.


I have done a series with three parts on The Process of Forgiveness. I have given the link to the first post which will lead to the others.

Yesterday, I posted a review of an important book U.S. War-Culture, Sacrifice and Salvation by Kelly Denton-Borhaug and discussed her critiques of Girard and Mark Heim. The post is American War Sacrifice.

Seeking Eschatalogical Peace & the Way of Prayer

In the past few weeks I have been exploring the alleged eschatological violence in Matthew's Gospel. My reviews of A Peaceable Hope by David J. Neville and The Nonviolent Messiah by Joseph J. Simon. I have just read an even more helpful book called The Banished Messiah by Robert R. Beck. I  will try to review it soon & a link to it  should appear in the Theology & Peace Facebook page. My sermon on the Parable of the Wheat and the Weeds Jesus the Rejected Cornerstone among the Weeds also speaks to this concern.

I have also been exploring the Difficulties in Forgiving with the first post discussing Jacob and Esau and Joseph and His Brothers.I am planning to do some more posts on the delicate issue of forgiveness so stay tuned.

For our celebration of St. Benedict's Day this year, I preached a sermon St. Benedict: a Personal Sketch which outlines what we can glean of Benedict 's character and personality from the Rule.

I also reviewed James Carroll's stimulating book Jerusalem Jerusalem which provides us with a Girardian analysis of the history of Jerusalem in history and more important and fatefully, in the human imagination.

Finally, for now, I have completed a series on the traditional Five Kinds of Prayer. I discuss these kinds of prayer in the light of mimetic theory, looking at how an awareness of mimetic desire and deepen our understanding of prayer. This link to the first article on petitionary prayer.

If you want to go straight to the blog's homepage. click here.

Abundance Is a Spiritual Matter

On Sunday I wove together contemplative prayer, an MT account of the dualism of abundance and scarcity, and the current crisis at our southern border involving unaccompanied children. Here is a link to that sermon:

http://girardianlectionary.net/year_a/proper13a_2014_ser.htm

Respect and Humility and the Paschal Mystery

Again, it has been quite a while since I posted an update on my blog "Imaginary Visions of True Peace," so there is much to update.

During Holy Week, I posted Escape from the Denial of Death where my mediation on the Cross interacted with Richard Beck's book on Ernest Becker's thesis on how the denial of death tends to make people more violent.

For Easter, I posted The Earthquake that Saves which I have to admit presupposes some understanding of Girard's thought to work as a standalone post.

After Easter, I embarked on a series of posts on Respect and Humility as two fundamental abiding attitudes that build "good" mimesis and relieve competitive mimesis. There are three posts on Respect, a humble virtue but an important one. The first post should lead to the the other two. Speaking of humility, there is a post on Vainglory which is a vice noted by early Eastern writers such as John Cassian followed by two posts on Humility.

There is the post Stumbling over Stumbling Stones that points to issues of ecclesiology, what it means to be church.

Freud's Illusion and the Paschal Mystery is a reflection on yet another book by Richard Beck, namely one on Freud and William James.

The Power of the Ascended Lord is, as one might guess, another meditation on the Ascension of Christ.

Accepting the Cross is the latest posting which discusses the Gospel for the second Sunday after Pentecost, particularly Jesus' words about taking up his cross.

The picture is what our cemetery looked like after some small tornadoes ripped through the abbey property two years ago. Fallen trees missed the cross by inches. Fortunately, none of the abbey buildings took a direct hit.

Oneness and Contemplation

There is a story about Mahatma Gandhi that fits my experience the past several weeks. A mother brought her young son to Gandhi because she knew he was a loving, helpful man, and because her son looked up to him. "I've tried to tell my son," she told Gandhi, "that he eats too much sugar. It's not good for him. Can you please tell him not to eat so much sugar?" He thought for a moment and told her, "Bring him back in two weeks, and I will have an answer for him." The mother was a bit surprised. Why would waiting a couple weeks make a difference for something so simple. But she did what he asked, and brought him back. Gandhi's response was the same: "Bring him back in two weeks, and I will have an answer for him." Again, she brought him back, and again he asked for two more weeks. Finally, on the fourth try, Gandhi stooped down to address the boy. "You should stop eating so much sugar. It's not good for you." What?! Now the mother was a bit angry. "Why couldn't you have told him that the first time we came to you?!" "Because," said Gandhi, "I needed time myself to stop eating so much sugar. It was harder than I thought. I couldn't ask your son to do something I'm not willing to do myself."

The last couple weeks I've spoken to you about the importance to the Christian life of a certain form of prayer. In popular parlances, it's most often called "meditation." Today, it's increasingly referred to as "Mindfulness." In Christian circles, I've most often heard it talked about as "Contemplation." Whatever we call it, it's a form of prayer that uses silence and attempts to calm the mind by stemming the normal flow of thinking. And I think it's become a lost art in the Christian tradition that we very much need to retrieve.

But I feel a bit like Gandhi with that boy. Because even though I've been becoming more convinced of its necessity for a healthy Christian life, I've struggled a to fall into a regular practice myself. I was not raised with contemplative practice at all. It was never taught to me in Sunday School or Confirmation. We didn't even have anything on it in seminary. It's been absent to my life of faith, until about three years ago, when I first started reading Franciscan priest and teacher Richard Rohr. Here's his most recent book, in fact, titled Silent Compassion: Finding God in Contemplation. Finding God in contemplation. Through Rohr -- and also Sr. Nancy Brousseau, who leads our synod's education center, and who led our Church Council on an experience of this type of prayer -- I've been learning about the great mystics who listened to God in prayer and became great leaders and saints. But an important part of the message has been that it's not just for mystics and saints. It's for everyone. (We'll follow up on this point next week, in fact, as we read in the Pentecost story about God's Spirit being poured out on all people.)

Contemplation is a form of prayer that has been passed on in the Christian tradition for everyone to practice, even though often times it was only in the monasteries. Since the Reformation, it even went somewhat dormant in the monasteries. It's just been in the last fifty years or so that it's made a revival there, too. The best place to learn contemplative prayer, in fact, is generally at your local monastery. I took my first class on contemplative prayer at the Transformation Center at old Nazareth College on Gull Road.

But my practice has remained spotty. So, like Gandhi, I've been reluctant to ask you all to do something that I'm not willing to do myself. It's been in recent weeks that my own motivation to practice received a big boost to rededicate myself to faithful practice of contemplation. It came through an unexpected source -- the book I've plugged the last two weeks, titled 10% Happier, by ABC news anchor Dan Harris. It's basically his personal account of being ushered into the benefits of meditation pretty much kicking and screaming. He's unreligious himself and so resisted all the way, because meditation is usually connected with religious practice. But increasingly he relented because it did help him a great deal. It began when he had a horrifying moment of experiencing a panic attack while on the air for Good Morning America about ten years ago -- in front of 5 million viewers. He knew that if he wanted to keep his career, he needed to make sure that it never happened again. So he takes the reader through a fascinating story, both into the world of TV news and the personal benefits of meditation -- all with great humor and wit. His account of enduring a 10-day silent retreat is hilarious. He hated most of it, yet it was also one of the most profound experiences of his life.

What has helped me is to see the Christian practice of contemplation in light of a more general human practice of what we might consider mental or spiritual hygiene. Harris writes, for example:

On my travels to various Buddhist seminars, I had started to hear mentions of scientific research into meditation. It sounded promising, so I checked it out. What I found blew my mind. Meditation, once part of the counterculture, had now fully entered the scientific mainstream. It had been subjected to thousands of studies, suggesting an almost laughably long list of health benefits, including salutary effects on the following: major depression, drug addiction, binge eating, smoking cessation, stress among cancer patients, loneliness among senior citizens, ADHD, asthma, psoriasis, irritable bowel syndrome.

Studies also indicated that meditation reduced levels of stress hormones, boosted the immune system, made office workers more focused, and improved test scores on the GRE. Apparently mindfulness did everything short of making you able to talk to animals and bend spoons with your mind. (pp. 167-68)

A frustration, though, of this practice is that it's hard to put in a book. It's one of those practices that's best passed on person to person. As Dan Harris became interested in trying meditation, he was frustrated by not being able to find it in a book, which is partly why he was motivated to write his book. The appendix is worth the price for its basic instructions of how to practice meditation -- though he, too, admits that it is best to learn with someone who knows the practice. But here's just another brief snippet about why it's important:

Meditation is the best tool I know for neutralizing the voice in the head. As discussed, the ego is often a hatchery of judgments, desires, assumptions, and diabolical plans. The act of simply feeling the breath breaks the habits of a lifetime. For those short snatches of time when you're focused on the rise and fall of the abdomen or the cool air entering and exiting the nostrils, the ego is muzzled. You are not thinking, you are being mindful -- an innate but underused ability we all have, which allows us to be aware without judging.

When you repeatedly go through the cycle of feeling the breath, losing your focus, and hauling yourself back, you are building your mindfulness muscle the way dumbbell curls build your biceps. Once this muscle is just a little bit developed, you can start to see all the thoughts, emotions, and physical sensations that carom through your skull for what they really are: quantum squirts of energy without any concrete reality of their own.

Imagine how massively useful this can be. Normally, for example, when someone cuts you off in traffic or in line at Starbucks, you automatically think, I'm [mad]. Instantaneously, you actually become [mad]. Mindfulness allows you to slow that process down. Sometimes, of course, you're right to be [mad]. The question is whether you are going to react mindlessly to that anger or respond thoughtfully. Mindfulness provides space between impulse and action, so you're not a slave to whatever neurotic obsession pops into your head. (pp. 230-31)

Sound helpful? Let's finish up with at least a hint of why I think this is so important to our Christian practice. Richard Rohr has a chapter in this little book on contemplative prayer called "The Path to Non-Dual Thinking." What's dual thinking? Our normal thinking of judging everything in pairs, the basic one being good and bad, but also pairs like pain and pleasure, suffering and joy. The voice in our heads, as Harris calls it, is constantly judging everything along some line of good and bad. Non-dual thinking, as Rohr calls it, is not to think away good and bad but to be aware of it in less judgmental ways because you are aware of the oneness of everything.

If the Gospel readings from John in recent weeks have sound mystical to you, let me suggest it is because of our usual dual thinking. When we are on the path to non-dual thinking, these passages actually begin to make more sense. And the bottom line of it all comes in the closing words to today's reading. Jesus ends his farewell to the disciples praying to his Father that "they may be one, just as we are one." Oneness. That's the antidote to the dangers of dual thinking, our normal thinking. Our most immediate reaction to judging something bad is to expel it, often with any force we can muster. Through Contemplation, we learn the practice of responding instead of reacting. We learn to hold off our normal reaction of trying to violently expel the bad, and instead respond with love. That doesn't mean there aren't bad things that need to be resisted. There are! And we are called to resist them. But with a response of love, not a reaction of anger and force.

Why? Because, first of all, in love we are aware of our own badness, our own sin. As Luther taught at his most mystical moment, we are all saints and sinners at the same time. We learn to see the oneness of everything, the good and the bad together. And so, second, we learn that the only ultimate way for the bad to be healed is love. As Martin Luther King, Jr. said, You can't drive out darkness with darkness; only with light. You can't drive out hate with hate; only with love. Contemplative prayer is about interrupting the dual thinking and reacting, so that we might instead respond with love.

Spiritual Abiding and Contemplation

The timing of Brian Robinette's insightful presentation at the 2014 Annual Conference of Theology & Peace coincided with my my own growing interest in Contemplative Spirituality, which had been part of my preaching in the latter part of the Easter Season. What follows are two pieces on contemplation; the first a parish newsletter column on John 14 and the second a sermon on John 17.
 
Our Gospel readings from John at the end of the Easter season give a brilliant example of the older and newer reading of our Christian message. Let's begin with a beloved passage that gives much comfort at a time of loss, a passage that is often read at funerals. Jesus, on the eve of Good Friday, says to his disciples,

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house there are many abiding places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also." (John 14:1-3)

Even though "heaven" is not mentioned here, the older reading of this passage is that it's about Jesus taking us to heaven when we die -- a message of immense comfort when we face death, either our own or our loved ones. It is truly a "Blessed Assurance" that God holds us in life when our earthly bodies die.

The newer reading of this passage does not take away or diminish this assurance but extends it to this life -- not just to when we die. It is about the new possibility of "heaven" coming to us through the cross and resurrection, not us waiting to go to heaven someday in the future. The abiding places that Jesus prepares for us? First himself, and then you and me. The many abiding places of God's house become us!

This way of reading comes from the wider context of John's Gospel -- "my Father's house" and his specialized use of "abiding." "My Father's house" appears only one other time, in John 2. When Jesus is taking prophetic action in the Jerusalem Temple, he says, "Stop turning my Father's house into a marketplace" (2:16). Here "my Father's house" means the Temple, the traditional locus of God's presence in the world.

But Jesus is about to change the traditional thinking. When the temple leaders confront Jesus about his authority to cause such a stir in the holy place, Jesus responds with a baffling statement: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up" (2:19). No further explanation from Jesus. Only John the Gospel Writer tells us the reader, "But he was speaking of the temple of his body" (2:21). In other words, the three days of Good Friday to Easter worked the miracle of, among other things, changing the place of God's presence in the world from the temple to Jesus' body. That's what he means when he later says, "I go to prepare a place for you." The basic place of God's presence in the world is no longer to be sought out in a building. The place has shifted to a human body.

But not to just one body, Jesus' body, because Jesus, in being raised up on the cross and on Easter morning, is "ascending to my Father" (20:17). And so in John's 'Pentecost' scene, on Easter evening, this happens:

Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit." (John 20:21-22)

This is the Spirit of Truth, the Advocate, that Jesus promises to send us in John 14-16, the same passage where he also steps up all the talk about "abiding." Laced throughout these chapters are multiple ways of Jesus talking about spiritual abiding. Jesus is in the Father, and the Father in him. Using the image of the vine and branches, he tells us that he will abide in us and we in him. This is all topped off with a lot of talk about love. We are to abide in Jesus' love and his love in us. And the giving of the Spirit is involved in all of this abiding.

Do you see? Yes, when we die -- when our loved ones die -- we/they abide in God's power of life. This is true! It is certain! It is a great comfort! But it's also all true because the abiding in God, and God in us, has already begun since the first Easter. In going to the cross, Jesus went to prepare a place for us and in us. He makes it evident that God's abiding Spirit is not limited to a holy building. The place of God's abiding in the world is first and foremost in human beings. It's supposed to have been that way from the beginning, as we were made in God's image to be God's image bearers. Sin got in the way, and so Jesus was sent to go to the cross as the way to make happen what was always God's intention. God's abiding Spirit desires to abide in us that we may bear God's loving presence to others, and to the whole Creation. Even as the Father sent Jesus, so now he sends us -- with God's Spirit abiding in and among us, so that we do the same work as Jesus, and even greater work (14:12). God wants to help us come alive in new and fresh ways right here and now. God wants us to be part of God's work of making everything come alive.

Wow! But what does that mean on a practical, everyday level? This is where I think our older way of reading these passages has gotten in the way. It has put the focus of our hope on what happens after we die, such that our work in the present has been focused on believing certain things about Jesus as the key to getting to heaven someday. Yes, we are assured of life after death. But the really important message is that God calls us to come alive today. We are to follow in Jesus' work of battling the powers of sin and death in God's work of making everything come alive.

What does this look like? Since the newer readings are new, what this looks like is still in the process of coming into focus, of emerging. I think the new Pope is onto something in taking the name of one our Christian history's greatest saints, Francis of Assisi, as one benchmark in the past for understanding our task today. One of the most important guides for me in recent years has been the Franciscan priest and teacher, Fr. Richard Rohr. His Center for Action and Contemplation names for me the twin foci of what this will look like, naming, too, what we have seen in our Gospels from John 14-20. Action names the work Jesus talks about throughout John's Gospel, the work of loving one another as Jesus loves us, a work that heals us and makes us come alive in new ways. It is a work of God's Justice and Peace, of bearing God's presence to Creation as we were made to do from the beginning. Contemplation names the spiritual abiding in John's Gospel, the process of God's Spirit coming to abide in us that sends us out to do Jesus' work. Rohr often says that the most important word in the name of his Center is and. Action and Contemplation always accompany each other.

Finally, in recent sermons I promised to say more in my newsletter column about Dan Harris' recent book 10% Happier: How I Tamed the Voice in My Head, Reduced Stress Without Losing My Edge, and Found Self-Help That Actually Works -- A True Story. I chose to begin here with reading our Easter Gospel texts. Harris' book comes under what Rohr names as Contemplation. So I'll promise to say more in next month's newsletter column. For now, I leave you with suggestions for summer reading: Harris' book, and then two coming out this summer: Brian McLaren's We Make the Road by Walking: A Year-Long Quest for Spiritual Formation, Reorientation, and Activation, and Richard Rohr's Eager to Love: The Alternative Way of Francis of Assisi.

Have a great summer!

Learning to Read, Learning to See, Learning to Bless

Here is an update of posts on my blog Imaginary Visions of True Peace:

Human Weakness the Cornerstone reflects on our attitudes towards the handicapped in light of mimetic theory.

The Servant of the Servants of God is my sermon for St. Gregory's day this year. It notes the fighting among the disciples.

There follows two posts on how not to read and how to read based on what we learn from René Girard and St. Ignatius: Quixotic Reading and Reading Ignatiusly. (Pardon my clumsy neologism)

Seeing with More than the Eyes is my sermon for Lent IV about the man born blind.

Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice has been on my mind lately and as I began to see it as a pretty complete illustration of Girard's thesis, I shared my thoughts in Proving Shylock Right---or Wrong.

Finally (for now) I have published two posts called "Mimetic Blessing through Abraham:" 1) Cain and Abel and 2) Abraham's Offspring.

Now for Passiontide and Easter!

From Noah to Easter

The following is a column I wrote for our Parish newsletter in April 2014:

...and the earth was filled with violence. -- Genesis 6:11

"I establish my covenant with you, that never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of a flood, and never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth." -- Genesis 9:11

Jesus said [on Easter Evening], "Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures. -- Luke 24:26-27

I'd like to connect the dots on these Bible passages, drawing a line from the story of Noah and the Flood to our Holy Week journey this month. (We will read the Flood story during our Easter Vigil worship April 19.) The Bible's Flood story (Genesis 6-9) is getting significant exposure in our culture right now because of the Hollywood version in the movie Noah, starring Russell Crowe. This exposure is an opportunity for today's outspoken atheists to make their claim that humanity no longer needs gods who perform genocides that include drowning babies.

Have you ever tried responding to such challenges among your friends, or family? Perhaps you've struggled with such questions yourself. How is it that the loving God we meet in Jesus Christ drowns basically everyone in trying to solve the problem of violence?

Let me be blunt: if we don't let Jesus himself teach us to read the Scriptures according to himself, then our Christian faith will be lost. The story of the Flood is a prime example. Christ came to show us who God truly is. So we should be able to understand that gods who command genocidal floods are the gods of old -- the gods who in every culture command a good and sacred violence to stop the flood of human violence. The God who places a rainbow covenant in the sky -- precisely as a promise to never try to solve the problem of violence by inflicting more violence -- is the God we meet in Christ. God on the cross suffers our violence.

So what do we say about all the parts of the Bible where "God" kills or commands killing? This, to me, is the most important question to get right in learning to read Scriptures according to Christ. During the Easter season, we will also read heavily from the Book of Acts, where the first half features five sermons from the Apostle Peter. Despite the varying situations and overall messages of these five sermons, each one of them contains the central point we need to see in undergoing the story of Christ's death and resurrection. In all five, Peter says, 'we kill, God raises.' It's human beings who have the problem with violence, not God.

And a huge part of our problem is that the only way we human beings have ever been able to fully trust in solving our problem with violence is to use a counter-violence -- just like God supposedly did with the Flood. What I'm saying, then, is this: if we don't learn to see the God who slaughters everyone in the Flood as the false gods of human cultures, then we are losing the revelation of God in Christ -- the God who is revealed in the rainbow promise at the end of the Flood story.

Which brings us again to the essential importance of anthropology to our faith. We must understand what the Bible, coming to fulfillment in Christ, is trying to show us about ourselves. The Flood story is an ideal example, because similar flood stories are present across the globe. It gives us the opportunity to see how the Bible's Flood story is different. The Bible's story is the same in seeing a god who uses violence to try to stop violence. But it's different in showing us a God who promises never to do this. God on the cross in Jesus teaches us how to understand this difference.

And it's growing more urgent that we do so, because we now possess the technology to destroy ourselves with our own violence. Actually, that's precisely why flood stories are so universal in human culture. Since our beginnings as a species, we've feared wiping ourselves out through our own contagious violence. A common image for this fear has been an all-engulfing flood. The Genesis story names this flat-out: "The earth was filled with violence." Just like the flood by which God supposedly uses in trying to stop it! But god using a flood belies that age-old human answer of trying to stop violence with violence.

Without going into all the details of the anthropology here, let's at least name God's startling alternative to our human answer of stopping violence by inflicting a counter-violence. God suffers our violence on the cross, shows it to be impotent compared to God's life-giving power of love on Easter, and enacts the healing power of forgiveness in the giving of the Spirit. The cross and resurrection is God saving us from the flood of our human violence that threatens to destroy us.

Where is that salvation? Why is the world still so filled with violence? Remember, God's way is not to use counter-force, so the transformation will not happen with the speed or methods we typically choose. It might look more like the movement Gandhi began in having faith in Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. That's why we emphasize faith in God's way, trying to understand the ways in which it's different from our ways.

Let me finish, then, by suggesting that the cross and resurrection can turn the Flood story into a different sort of parable. Learning to interpret the Scriptures according to Jesus might suggest the following kind of twist that Jewish philosopher Günther Anders offered under the shadow of nuclear proliferation. He pictures Noah as prophetically making a public show of mourning in advance of the Flood, and writes,

Soon a small crowd of curious people had gathered around him. They asked him questions. They asked if someone had died, and who the dead person was. Noah replied to them that many had died, and then, to the great amusement of his listeners, said that they themselves were the dead of whom he spoke. When he was asked when this catastrophe had taken place, he replied to them: "Tomorrow." Profiting from their attention and confusion, Noah drew himself up to his full height and said these words: "The day after tomorrow, the flood will be something that will have been. And when the flood will have been, everything that is will never have existed. When the flood will have carried off everything that is, everything that will have been, it will be too late to remember, for there will no longer be anyone alive. And so there will no longer be any difference between the dead and those who mourn them. If I have come before you, it is in order to reverse time, to mourn tomorrow's dead today. The day after tomorrow it will be too late." With this he went back whence he had come, took off the sackcloth [that he wore], cleaned his face of the ashes that covered it, and went to his workshop. That evening a carpenter knocked on his door and said to him: "Let me help you build the ark, so that it may become false." Later a roofer joined them, saying: "It is raining over the mountains, let me help you, so that it may become false." ⁽¹⁾

Brothers and Sisters in Christ, may our journey through the grief of Good Friday and the promise of Easter call us to work on the ark of God's salvation in Christ, the work of love and forgiveness, so that our way of violence may become false.

Peace,
Paul Nuechterlein


1. This version of Anders' parable is from Jean-Pierre Dupuy's The Mark of the Sacred (Stanford, 2013), p. 203, who makes the following citation (footnote 14): Quoted in Thierry Simonelli, Günther Anders: De la désuétude de l'homme (Paris: Editions du Jasmin, 2004), 84-85. The emphasis is mine. Simonelli very closely follows Anders's German text, found in the first chapter of Endzeit and Zeitenende (Munich: Beck, 1972), a work that has not yet been translated into either French or English. Anders told the story of the flood elsewhere and in other forms, particularly in Hiroshima ist überall (Munich: Beck, 1982).

From Epiphany to Ash Wednesday

This is quite a journey of blog posts since I last summarized what I had published on Imaginary Visions of True Peace. I didn't realize it had been that long!

As week after Christmas, I posted some reflections for the Feast of the Holy Name (formerly the Circumcision of Jesus) The Name of Names.

The Class Comedian is a Girardian reflection of a bit of my childhood; an example of mimetic processes at a young age.

The phrase "Myth Become Fact" has stuck with me ever since I first read it in the writings of C.S. Lewis. The post of that title compares the insight of Lewis and the kindred insight of JRR Tolkien with René Girard's take on mythology.

Principalities and Powers is a brief look at the social matrix fueled by mimetic desire.

The Cross as a Crisis of Faith reflects on the faith journey of Rachel Held Evans narrated in her book Evolving in Monkey Town: How a Girl who Knew all the Answers Learned to Ask the Questions. On telling incident is the focus of this post.

Twin Killings is a brief look at the tendency of many early cultures to kill one or both twins, seeing in them images of mimetic doubles, something Girard has commented on.

Sacrificing the Aztecs is a brief examination of the Aztecs' sacrificial practice, noting their humanity and how it was caught in their system.

The Transfiguration comes up twice a year, and the last Sunday of Epiphany is one of them. The Transfigured Glory of God's Children comments on what kind of "glory" is being offered.

Ash Wednesday was only yesterday and my reflections focus on the collect for the day from the Episcopal Book of Common Prayer: Respecting all Things God Has Made.

I wish you all a blessed Lent that brings you closer to God.

Interim Contributing Theologian

I am Paul Nuechterlein, a parish pastor at Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Portage, MI (Kalamazoo). For those who don't know me, I've been active with the larger Girardian community -- the Colloquium on Violence and Religion (COV&R) -- for more than 20 years, and with Theology & Peace since the beginning. In the late 90's I began developing lectionary pages around Girard's anthropology, which in 2001 became the website "Girardian Reflections on the Lectionary."

I was elected to the Theology & Peace Board in 2012, and last Fall was appointed by the Board to serve as Interim Contributing Theologian (succeeding Tony Bartlett until the Board finds a permanent replacement). One of my duties is to make regular contributions to this blog. Tony graced us with wonderful essays. I'm going to approach it a bit differently. Since I already write on a regular basis for my website, I will occasionally share brief portions from my website along with a link to the longer reflections.

It is an honor to serve you as Contributing Theologian. Grace and peace to all as we begin 2014!

Breaking Bread with the Christ Child

Since Christmas is so close, I will start with noting my most recent blog post Unwrapping the Future which is about the challenge Christmas poses for us. I don't mean to spoil Christmas but to deepen its meaning to strengthen us in a world growing darker and colder.

To take a step back, there is an Advent meditation called Whose Axe, Whose Winnowing Forks? This draws the contrast between John the Baptist along with the prophetic tradition of Israel and Jesus.

I also posted an article I wrote for the Abbey Letter which deals with Mary, a suitable subject for Advent and Christmas called Mary in the Place of Shame and Glory.

I complemented by mini-series on Baptism with a three-part mini-series on the Eucharist which has overlapping themes with the former. The first post is Eucharist: Christ our Passover. You can follow the links in the posts to get to the second and third parts.

Questions of the human self in light of mimetic theory and the Gospel have been a growing preoccupation with me. I have begun exploring this in my post I Me Me Mine which brings in George Harrison, Thomas Merton and others.

I have also compiled a page that lists blog posts by the seasons of the year as an aid for those who wish to look them up in that way.

If you prefer, you can go straight to the main page of my blog Imaginary Visions of True Peace.

A blessed Christmas Tide to all.

Baptism and Resurrected Life

Since my last post on this blog, I have added several more items to my blog. Since resentment is a big problem for all of us, I have posted two articles on the subject: Resentment: the Glue that Keeps us Stuck Together  and Renouncing Resentment.

On a more positive note is Mimetic Laughter which looks at an aspect of positive mimesis which is often overlooked.

Caring for the Dead has some thoughts for All Souls day and how we can continue to relate to the departed in positive and healthful ways. Related to this is Jesus Explodes with Life: His Reply to the Sadducees which opens us up to the explosion of the resurrected life.

The Secret Zoo is a charming but also spiritually challenging set of five novels for young readers as well as older ones that I comment on briefly in Uncovering the Secrets of the Secret Zoo Anyone with children in their lives who might like to read about children riding a polar bear and a rhinoceros should get these books.

I have just completed a series on Baptism: Overwhelmed by Christ's Love This link takes you to the first article. You can navigate to the next two from that.

Or, you can go to the main page of the blog & read down.

Mimetic desire and truth

Truth and mendacity are two important concerns in Girard's mimetic theory, particularly when it comes to the sacrificial mechanism that in ancient times only worked when the truth of the victim was not known. I have completed a five-part series called "Mimetic Desire and Truth" that explores some of the basic ways that mimetic desire can be constructive and help us discern the truth, not as individuals but as a society but also ways that rivalrous desire obscures the truth. You can get a page with links to each post on the above link or you can go to the first post and continue on from there.

Among other posts is a look at the Salem Witch Trials, a Girardian scenario if there ever was one, through the point of view of a judge who repented of his judgments in Bewitched, Bothered, and Repentant.

The Communal Good Shepherd looks at the Parable of the Good Shepherd and the Lost Sheep. The Good Shepherd in the Desert looks back to the desert journey of the Israelites with the help of a Christological take.

Cast out by the Outcasts looks at the dynamics of the Ten Lepers who were healed by Jesus and what helps and what hinders gratitude.

Mary & Mimetic Desire

Those of you who attended the first T&P meeting in Chicago might remember that I presented a paper called Living by the Breath of God. This was and is something of a manifesto for developing Christian spirituality with an in the truth of mimetic desire. I decided to post this paper on my blog for those who wish to review it or read it for the first time. In retrospect, I see that it has set the direction for my continuing thoughts over the past years.

The Feast of St. Mary the Virgin was on August 15 and I posted my reflections on Our Lady and the tradition of the Assumption in Mary's Blessedness, Everybody's Blessedness.  In this article, I refer to Drasko Dizdar's magnificent book Sheer Grace which I strongly recommend for a deep Girardian exploration of the Eucharist and the Church Year.

Two days later, I got to preach on Jesus' hard saying about bringing a sword (or Division) instead of Peace. This from the Prince of Peace of all people" This raises the question whose sword he was talking about  which I discuss in Human Swords, God's Peace.

Since I have now posted quite a few articles on mimetic desire, and since the concept is unfamiliar to many, I have had to constantly add cross-references, I have put all these articles together on a page called Mimetic Desire and Mimetic Rivalry that will expand with new entries. This will be handy for a review or to help any newbie get oriented as to what this is all about.

Speaking of mimetic desire, I have just started what I expect to be a series of posts called Mimetic Desire and Truth. The first post in the series is available here. Stay tuned for more!

The main page of the blog for those who wish to go there is here.

The more I explore mimetic desire and the more implications I see for its applicability for the Christian life and the human life in this time that continues to become more turbulent, the more important I think it is to spread the word about it through our own reflections and making the reflections of our friends and colleagues known to others. I know that time is finite for all of us, but telling people we know when we have a chance, sharing links on Facebook & sending tweets and retweets on Twitter can all help spread the word.

Transfigured Mirror Neurons

I start with Mary & Martha who were featured in the Gospel reading a couple of weeks ago. My reflections are posted in Mary and Martha at the Feet of Jesus.

 Then I finally got around to writing a post briefly introducing mirror neurons for those who haven't heard the rumors from the scientific world about them in Mirroring Desires.

Some follow-up reflections exploring a few more ramifications of mimetic desire are posted in Connecting our Desires.

With the Feast of the Transfiguration coming up Tuesday August 6, I posted these thoughts in Transfiguration of the Material World.

If you want, you can go straight to the main page of Imaginary Visions of True Peace.

Ever wanted to have Christmas in July? Well, here is a chance. Thanks to a friend of the abbey, we have just posted an eBook version of my collection of Christmas stories called Born in the Darkest Time of Year. Kindle & Nook formats are available for $4.00 per copy. (my publisher hasn't bothered to do these formats.) You can order paperback hard copy of any of my books from the Abbey's website. PayPal is accepted. If you don't have an account with PayPal & don't want to make one, you can check out just using a credit card.