I already posted this blog on Wood Hath Hope but it seemed too obviously T&P not to have it here--with a different title! It's all about new spaces.
First, just a little history.
In the year 313 the Roman Emperor made Christianity a licensed religion. Constantine said licet, let it be permitted. For the first time in its history the movement of Christianity had official and final Roman approval, and it was already older then than the present U.S. Republic. Imagine that: 275 years without any secure government recognition, without having a king or an emperor at your back, without a sure place in society, without public symbols and celebrations to declare your right to exist. 275 years of civic contempt, mixed with oblique influence when people of status became Christian, then punctuated at other times by outbursts of lethal persecution.
When Constantine gave state permission to Christianity he had just won a decisive battle in which he had invoked the Christian god—a voice had spoken to him in a dream (in a later account it became a vision) telling him that he should emblazon the heavenly sign of Christ on the shields and helmets of his soldiers. He thus began the process of the militarization of Christian faith. True, there were already Christian soldiers in the Roman army, but they were there because they had been pressed into service, and seemed faithfully to adhere to the church’s absolute prohibition on killing--if not why was there no hint of a rebellion when Christian soldiers were subject of a harsh purge from the army under Diocletian about twenty years before? In other words they were there as a formal fill-up-the ranks presence, ready the moment the war was over to abandon the profession. Constantine realized somehow that it would be possible to enlist the support of this radical yet influential movement by calling a halt to the bitter persecution of his predecessors and then progressively according rights and privileges to the church, and at the same time creating the self-serving myth that the Christian god had spoken to him directly pledging his support. Christians of course had to want the end of persecution, and they probably shared a general desire for the peace of Roman society rent by continual civil war. Whatever the reasons the combination of Constantine’s moves got the Christian movement to accept the deal he offered and progressively they saw all this as the work of God. (There is at least one monumental image of Constantine’s vision adorning the walls of the Vatican.) A fateful hour had dawned, the seduction of Christianity by the state and its military apparatus. Within the space of one year the bishops were ordering Christians to remain in the army (Council of Arles, 314), within a decade there were religious wars with Christian orthodoxy on one side and heresy on the other, and within a century Augustine had formulated his doctrine of “just war”. The rest is history.
Or a kind of history.
When the emperor says licet Christianity is licensed. It’s allowed to exist by the say-so of the archaic human system built on the death of the victim. And then very quickly it appears that Christianity agrees reciprocally with the state’s mode of existence, with its violence. Christianity becomes franchised by the state, by a human system of violence. And in return Christianity franchises the state, its relentless natural violence. A separation-of-church-and-state motif does not overcome this, rather it effectively masks it. Within the separation lies a mutual collusion. And if biblical people invoke Romans 13 (submit to civil authority) as proof of apostolic support for this situation they conveniently overlook both the vastly different condition of Christianity at the time of Paul’s writing (a tiny apolitical group) and Paul’s more basic theological distinction between the Christian body and the wrath of this present world order.
As is obvious all this has been hashed out before. The discussion between the Christian peace tradition and the position of the mainline “just war” churches is old, bitter and unresolved. What I’m saying, however, wants to add something different. The franchising of Christianity by the state is breaking down from within. The crisis of violence in our 21st century world is of itself dissolving the implicit alliance of Christians and the state, instead opening up a new space where Christians are unfranchised, unlicensed, unofficial….
A new possibility is emerging, created by our contemporary historical crisis of elective wars that never end and the parallel systemic experience of destruction of the environment. The world system can be seen to be terminal and this puts people in a new situation, especially Christians who can recognize that this new situation is, in an amazing upside-down way, the transforming work of Christ. If Christians have colluded with the state and its just wars, Christ and the gospel of the forgiving and innocent victim never have. And so the more and more the world resorts to violence the more and more its violence is seen as...violence. The act of violence becomes implausible, inconclusive, inept, crazy. Our history is spinning into greater and greater chaos because of the refusal of the true answer--the forgiveness and compassion of Christ, which at the same time become the more evidently necessary the more they are refused. Thus Christ has opened up a new opportunity for his followers to return to their original unfranchised, unchained state, to find the gap in the world order where they can truly exist.
In this gap the gospel is free to speak itself in boundaryless transformative terms, without distinction of friend or foe, terrorist or freedom fighter, us and them, righteous and impure. I quote Scott Hutchinson. “The forgiveness at the heart of gospel life removes barriers, loosens bonds, unburdens, sets people free, leads to the mutuality of gifting and being gifted. Exhilarating, fulfilling, and terrifying! The source, of course, is God, whose radical self-giving transforms and endlessly offers life.” And progressively the actual space that Christians occupy is no longer demarcated by the built walls of their franchise but by this new open unmediated space that Christ has created in our time, dissolving the historical nexus of 313.
Tony Bartlett
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Culture's Noise, God's Silence
Theology and Peace board member, Adam Ericksen, discusses the insights of both Rob Bell's Pneuma video Noise and mimetic theory.
For more of Adam's work, please see The Raven Foundation at http://www.ravenfoundation.org/
For more of Adam's work, please see The Raven Foundation at http://www.ravenfoundation.org/
Friday, April 23, 2010
Forced out of The Matrix
Two of my friends who serve on the Theology and Peace board have, at different times, used the image of "The Matrix" to describe the relationship of Girardian Christians with the culture around us. It always seemed an interesting analogy, and I've even used it in a sermon. But I only recently came to understand it fully.
You may remember the "Matrix" film trilogy, in which human beings have lost a war to machines and computer programs, and are now kept in pods where the energy their bodies generate is used to power their mechanical and electronic overlords. To keep the humans pacified, their brains are linked to a computer program which causes them to see a pleasant, ordinary world where they live full, if imaginary, lives. Only a small group of humans know the awful truth, and they struggle to free their fellows from their bondage.
In recent weeks, I think I have come to an awakening of my own, and like many such experiences, it has been jarring and painful. A few weeks ago, I received a call from a parishioner, saying her house was on fire. I quickly headed to the scene of the fire, and stood with two church members and friends as we watched firefighters come and go from their smoky home. In the course of the couple of hours I was with them, I was told that the fire had been intentionally set. That would be the first of many shocks, that day and in the days to follow.
My administrative assistant, who also did bookkeeping for our congregation, was arrested and charged with two counts of arson. She was subsequently charged with theft, for having allegedly embezzled more than $100,000 from our church. Within a few hours, my world was turned upside down. A woman I had trusted enough to have given her a key to my own home sat in jail. The arson victims were without a home. Nothing I knew when I woke up that morning seemed to be true anymore.
The next few days would bring more shocks. Those shocks would bring me to realize that we live in a violent world. I've known this in theory, I guess. I've been reading the works of Rene Girard for a few years now. I know his contention that human culture is founded on violence. But my congregation, and I, could always see the violence as somewhere else, someone else's problem. We felt insulated from it.
Now, violence had touched us more deeply than we could have ever imagined. A violent crime had been committed in our midst. In the Book of Acts, Saul of Tarsus is confronted on the road to Damascus with a horrible reality--he has been violently persecuting Jesus and his followers. In a moment, what he saw as his duty, the dictates of his faith, a thing worthy of honor, is revealed for what it really is--the violent persecution of innocent victims. For Saul, this is a crisis. He neither eats nor even sees for three days.
I can relate. I fell into a deep depression and lost 10 pounds in the first two weeks after the arson fire. I saw violence everywhere. The detectives, whose power is based on coercion and fear, were in our office quite a lot, complete with holstered guns, in those first few days. My assistant was jailed, cut off from family and even from those of us who would like to have had an explanation for her actions. And she faces decades in a place of violence and pain. Having lived in this culture, she sought a violent solution to her problems, leaving suffering victims in her wake.
My congregation has been wonderful, caring for the needs of both families affected by these events with prayers, and meals (we're Midwestern Christians, after all). Yet I worry about the possibility of conflict. I ask those who are angry to imitate Jesus, and not the offender, in their reactions to these events. Most listen to me, for which I am grateful. Some do not. I have come to understand that revenge is imitation of one who has wronged us. As Christians, Rene Girard has taught me, we make a choice to imitate Jesus. I am grateful for this insight, and do my best to pass it on to others around me.
I know now that the world is a violent place. Like those poor struggling humans in "The Matrix"; like Paul on the road to Damascus; I have been confronted with a reality that is both freeing and painful. I now see that Jesus came to free us from our violent ways, to offer us another path. I understand why Paul was in such crisis that seeing, eating, functioning was too painful. I don't think it's too much to say that I have shared that experience with Paul. I can no longer pretend that my world is peaceful and safe in the way that I believed it was 5 weeks ago.
After being blinded on the road, after three days of struggling with the revelation of his own violence, Paul meets Ananias, a member of the Damascus church. Ananias does the most remarkable thing...he embraces Paul. Paul, the persecutor of the Church, is embraced by the very Church he had intended to destroy. This new community becomes Paul's safety and solace, and the Holy Spirit becomes the source of his strength.
I, too, have had to find new sources of safety and strength. Police with guns no longer help me feel safe. An adversarial system no longer seems like a source of justice. But, thanks to the insights of Rene Girard, I know that my strength comes from following Jesus. The Holy Spirit stands with me and advocates for me in this violent world. Something like scales have fallen from my eyes.
The weeks and months to come will bring new stressors. There are court dates yet to come. I will again be confronted with the painful realities of life in this culture founded on violence. I know, however, that I will not go through these moments alone. My congregation has stood together well, striving to be the Church in this new reality--and getting it right a remarkable majority of the time! And the Holy Spirit will stand with me, strengthening me and reminding me that all of this will end in resurrection.
I am deeply grateful to Rene Girard and those who introduced me to his work, for helping me make sense of these difficult days. Theology and Peace has been invaluable to me, and I am honored to work with the T&P board to make this knowledge available to others.
You may remember the "Matrix" film trilogy, in which human beings have lost a war to machines and computer programs, and are now kept in pods where the energy their bodies generate is used to power their mechanical and electronic overlords. To keep the humans pacified, their brains are linked to a computer program which causes them to see a pleasant, ordinary world where they live full, if imaginary, lives. Only a small group of humans know the awful truth, and they struggle to free their fellows from their bondage.
In recent weeks, I think I have come to an awakening of my own, and like many such experiences, it has been jarring and painful. A few weeks ago, I received a call from a parishioner, saying her house was on fire. I quickly headed to the scene of the fire, and stood with two church members and friends as we watched firefighters come and go from their smoky home. In the course of the couple of hours I was with them, I was told that the fire had been intentionally set. That would be the first of many shocks, that day and in the days to follow.
My administrative assistant, who also did bookkeeping for our congregation, was arrested and charged with two counts of arson. She was subsequently charged with theft, for having allegedly embezzled more than $100,000 from our church. Within a few hours, my world was turned upside down. A woman I had trusted enough to have given her a key to my own home sat in jail. The arson victims were without a home. Nothing I knew when I woke up that morning seemed to be true anymore.
The next few days would bring more shocks. Those shocks would bring me to realize that we live in a violent world. I've known this in theory, I guess. I've been reading the works of Rene Girard for a few years now. I know his contention that human culture is founded on violence. But my congregation, and I, could always see the violence as somewhere else, someone else's problem. We felt insulated from it.
Now, violence had touched us more deeply than we could have ever imagined. A violent crime had been committed in our midst. In the Book of Acts, Saul of Tarsus is confronted on the road to Damascus with a horrible reality--he has been violently persecuting Jesus and his followers. In a moment, what he saw as his duty, the dictates of his faith, a thing worthy of honor, is revealed for what it really is--the violent persecution of innocent victims. For Saul, this is a crisis. He neither eats nor even sees for three days.
I can relate. I fell into a deep depression and lost 10 pounds in the first two weeks after the arson fire. I saw violence everywhere. The detectives, whose power is based on coercion and fear, were in our office quite a lot, complete with holstered guns, in those first few days. My assistant was jailed, cut off from family and even from those of us who would like to have had an explanation for her actions. And she faces decades in a place of violence and pain. Having lived in this culture, she sought a violent solution to her problems, leaving suffering victims in her wake.
My congregation has been wonderful, caring for the needs of both families affected by these events with prayers, and meals (we're Midwestern Christians, after all). Yet I worry about the possibility of conflict. I ask those who are angry to imitate Jesus, and not the offender, in their reactions to these events. Most listen to me, for which I am grateful. Some do not. I have come to understand that revenge is imitation of one who has wronged us. As Christians, Rene Girard has taught me, we make a choice to imitate Jesus. I am grateful for this insight, and do my best to pass it on to others around me.
I know now that the world is a violent place. Like those poor struggling humans in "The Matrix"; like Paul on the road to Damascus; I have been confronted with a reality that is both freeing and painful. I now see that Jesus came to free us from our violent ways, to offer us another path. I understand why Paul was in such crisis that seeing, eating, functioning was too painful. I don't think it's too much to say that I have shared that experience with Paul. I can no longer pretend that my world is peaceful and safe in the way that I believed it was 5 weeks ago.
After being blinded on the road, after three days of struggling with the revelation of his own violence, Paul meets Ananias, a member of the Damascus church. Ananias does the most remarkable thing...he embraces Paul. Paul, the persecutor of the Church, is embraced by the very Church he had intended to destroy. This new community becomes Paul's safety and solace, and the Holy Spirit becomes the source of his strength.
I, too, have had to find new sources of safety and strength. Police with guns no longer help me feel safe. An adversarial system no longer seems like a source of justice. But, thanks to the insights of Rene Girard, I know that my strength comes from following Jesus. The Holy Spirit stands with me and advocates for me in this violent world. Something like scales have fallen from my eyes.
The weeks and months to come will bring new stressors. There are court dates yet to come. I will again be confronted with the painful realities of life in this culture founded on violence. I know, however, that I will not go through these moments alone. My congregation has stood together well, striving to be the Church in this new reality--and getting it right a remarkable majority of the time! And the Holy Spirit will stand with me, strengthening me and reminding me that all of this will end in resurrection.
I am deeply grateful to Rene Girard and those who introduced me to his work, for helping me make sense of these difficult days. Theology and Peace has been invaluable to me, and I am honored to work with the T&P board to make this knowledge available to others.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Horizontal Reform
Tony Cicariello—who is on the Theology and Peace board— sent me a copy of Hans Kung’s open letter to Pope Benedict XVI, printed in the Irish Times last Friday (4/16, available at http://www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/opinion/2010/0416/1224268443283.html).
Kung is the lion of Catholic liberalism, author of significant theological work, including rapprochement between the Catholic tradition and Protestant faith. In his letter he states that he and Joseph Ratzinger (now the pope) were the youngest theologians at the Second Vatican Council (1962-65), and are now the oldest actively working. He says the Roman Catholic church is in the worst credibility crisis since the Reformation and the present pope is very largely accountable. In particular he holds Ratzinger institutionally and personally responsible for engineering the global cover-up of child rape perpetrated by priests. He ends by calling for reform, and especially that the RC bishops should summon an ecumenical council to deal with the crisis.
It’s so telling that a theological voice dating from fifty years back is calling for a council. How can it possibly happen? Not only is the episcopal college full of Vatican placemen but the necessary theological groundwork is just not there. Where today are the Rahners, the de Lubacs, the Congars, the John Courtney Murrays?
At the same time, the revolution today is not in theology as such: it is carried in and by the information world.
This is a completely different human system that the one the Vatican knows and is shaped by. The Vatican is all about the control of meaning through a vertical information system. But today information and meaning are transferred across a horizontal surface which has no allegiance to traditional vertical operations.
In this world not only is the Vatican at a loss, but much more positively Christian meaning can arise anywhere, and does. It is irrepressible. In this kind of world RC reform is going to happen locally, and communicate itself across a horizontal surface.
It’s high time members of the RC tradition began to grow a para-Catholic church, locally based, emergent, welcoming, vitalized by mimetic anthropology and transformational faith. Then the episcopacy would sit up and take notice. And then ultimately it might be possible to have a truly profound and generative ecumenical council. Let’s see, San Francisco I ?
But in the meantime why not try T&P 3, in Chicago 25-27 May!
Kung is the lion of Catholic liberalism, author of significant theological work, including rapprochement between the Catholic tradition and Protestant faith. In his letter he states that he and Joseph Ratzinger (now the pope) were the youngest theologians at the Second Vatican Council (1962-65), and are now the oldest actively working. He says the Roman Catholic church is in the worst credibility crisis since the Reformation and the present pope is very largely accountable. In particular he holds Ratzinger institutionally and personally responsible for engineering the global cover-up of child rape perpetrated by priests. He ends by calling for reform, and especially that the RC bishops should summon an ecumenical council to deal with the crisis.
It’s so telling that a theological voice dating from fifty years back is calling for a council. How can it possibly happen? Not only is the episcopal college full of Vatican placemen but the necessary theological groundwork is just not there. Where today are the Rahners, the de Lubacs, the Congars, the John Courtney Murrays?
At the same time, the revolution today is not in theology as such: it is carried in and by the information world.
This is a completely different human system that the one the Vatican knows and is shaped by. The Vatican is all about the control of meaning through a vertical information system. But today information and meaning are transferred across a horizontal surface which has no allegiance to traditional vertical operations.
In this world not only is the Vatican at a loss, but much more positively Christian meaning can arise anywhere, and does. It is irrepressible. In this kind of world RC reform is going to happen locally, and communicate itself across a horizontal surface.
It’s high time members of the RC tradition began to grow a para-Catholic church, locally based, emergent, welcoming, vitalized by mimetic anthropology and transformational faith. Then the episcopacy would sit up and take notice. And then ultimately it might be possible to have a truly profound and generative ecumenical council. Let’s see, San Francisco I ?
But in the meantime why not try T&P 3, in Chicago 25-27 May!
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
T&P Blog
Welcome to the Theology & Peace blog. Contributors to this blog will be trusting, suspicious, full of hope, despairing, loving, forgiving, angry, frustrated, funny, prosaic, curious, cynical, compassionate, tough. I.E. fairly representatively human. What’s going to be different is a sustained sense that overall God is making human beings better! What other purpose could God possibly have? If God is either i) about punishing humans or ii) waiting for us to die so he can bring us to a better place, or iii) a combination of both, then God is so all-too-human as to be really a human construction. If on the other hand God is like Jesus and is concerned to shock this world into creational perfection through enduring love, well that’s much more worth the trouble. That God is so perfectly human! Mimetic anthropology, mirror neurons, nonviolence, peace, high culture, popular culture, mainline church, emerging church, online, offline, all these and more are in the toolkit of the writers. We’d love to have you with us. Peace!
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