Evangelicals are Really Closet Docetists

With the abovementioned title in mind, I'm thinking that I have to start employing a rating system for my blog posts. Posts such as this one may be rated TO - that is "Theologians Only". If some of my evangelical bloggers resent the idea that some readers will be exposed to alternative points of view, I could rate these types of posts PBR - that is, "Pastoral Brainwashing Recommended", so as to ensure that my ideas don't even get a hearing in the first place. Almost certainly, I will have to have to add a disclaimer something along the lines of "Warning: this post may contain theological themes that may be unsuitable for evangelical readers. Take cover ... and pray for my soul."

With that out of the way, I am able to tell you that I attended the second week of "Branches" tonight - a ten week program exploring Catholic practice and spirituality. Tonight's topic was "Who is Jesus?" and the speaker was Dr Robert Tilley of the Aquinas institute. The first thing I'll point out is that I don't really think that there was anything the Protestants, even conservative Protestants could have disagreed with in tonight's talk. This wasn't entirely unsurprising, given that the Nicean Creed is a common starting point (I guess depending upon the way you define "starting point") for both Catholic and Protestant Christology. Still, I'll be quite interested in seeing where the two roads eventually do diverge.

Even though tonight's talk was relatively uncontroversial, it got me thinking about one of my objections to evangelicalism. It occurred to me that one of my major gripes was and is in practice, I believe, that the Christ of evangelicalism is primarily spiritual and eschatological figure. By this, I mean that the focus of evangelicalism seemed so heavily focused upon the post-resurrection Christ that the pre-resurrection Christ hardly gets a look in. If I had to explain this, I would have to suggest that this is because evangelicals would like to see themselves as being "cruci-centric" - that is, that the Christian gospel is all about the Cross. What this means is that the evangelicals tend to focus rather heavily on the Pauline epistles, which talk about the implications of the Cross for the believer, while neglecting the earthly ministry of Jesus. It would seem, for many evangelicals, that Jesus' earthly ministry is merely a prelude to the main event, with no real significance of itself, and indeed, no contribution whatsoever to the salvific schema.

The problem with the above approach is that it risks seeing Jesus in purely divine terms - a heresy originated in the late first or early second century known as Docetism. Of course, evangelicals would assert that they believe that Jesus was fully human, but whether this intellectual assertion means anything in practice is fairly debatable. If you disagree with my assessment, I'd suggest you'd do well to look at writings on Jesus in the evangelical subculture. I would suggest that this trend is even true of evangelical theologians, who seem to spend a disproportionate amount of time talking about the post-resurrection Christ compared to the pre-resurrection Christ.

I should point out that I think that the over-emphasis of Jesus' divinity by evangelicalism is probably an understandable reaction to attacks upon the divinity of Jesus originating in 19th century liberal scholarship. Indeed, to the extent that they reject the liberals' rejection of Jesus' divinity, I agree with them. However, I would suggest that evangelicals have tended to overcompensate to such and extent that we wouldn't know that the evangelical Jesus really was human except for the odd Easter and Christmas sermon.

I believe that evangelicals would experience a much more rich faith by spending more time focusing upon the humanity of Christ. It is only because of the incarnation that we are able to speak about the practice of discipleship, quite simply because Christ needs to be human for us to be able to speak of following in his footsteps. If we take the earthly ministry of Jesus out of the picture, we are left with the God of Mount Sinai - the cosmic judge and the transcendent law-giver, a being who seems to be removed from the muck of our every day lives. In short, without the humanity of Jesus we remain with the legalistic code of the Law, rather than the Law of Love, personified so clearly in our Exemplar for us to emulate.

The Great Expectations of Romantic Chemistry

A few nights ago I was reading through "Great Expectations" as I came across this charming passage:

I asked myself the question whether I did not surely know thyat if Estella were beside me at the moment instead of Biddy, she would make me miserable? I was obliged to admit that I did know it for a certainty, and said to myself, "Pip, what a fool you are!"

We talked a good deal as we walked, and all that Biddy said seemed right. Biddy was never insulting, or capricious, or Biddy today and somebody else tomorrow; she would have derived only pain; and no pleasure, from giving my pain; she would far rather have wounded her own breast than mine. How could it be, then, that I did not like her much the better of the two?

"Biddy," said I, when we were walking homeward, "I wish you could put me right."

"I wish I could!" said Biddy.

"If I could only get myself to fall in love with you - you don't mind me speaking so openly to such an old acquaintance?"

"Oh, dear, not at all!" said Biddy. "Don't mind me."

"If I could only get myself to do it, that would be the thing for me."

"But you never will, you see," said Biddy.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of this exchange is that Pip knows all too well that he loves someone who is not very pleasant towards him, while is unable to become attracted to the girl whose qualities he most admires. It would seem that he is a slave to his desires.

I must admit, I find the whole concept of romantic chemistry most perplexing. I'd be most appreciative if some of my readers could give this confused soul some insight into the following questions:

Just what are the symptoms of chemistry?

How do you know if there is chemistry between you and another person?

Does chemistry change over time?

Can chemistry be manufactured, or does it simply exist on a random basis?

Great Expectations

I'm reading "Great Expectations" by Charles Dickens at the moment. In short, Great Expectation is a bildungsroman about the story's protagonist, Pip. Pip is a simple orphan from the country who has Great Expectations of making something of himself. One day, he is given an opportunity to do just that, because of a mysterious benefactor unknown to him, who will financially support his social betterment. The second part of the story deals with his sudden climb up the social ladder from poor rural lad without connections, to socialite.

I'm currently about half way through the novel and the way in which Pip seemlessly makes the transition into high society grates upon me somewhat, but not as much as the fact that he quickly becomes embarrassed by the humble circumstances of his upcoming. Of course, there also truth in the fact that it is good I feel outraged, because this is precisely what Dickens is trying to evoke in his audience. Of particular interest in Pip's desire to improve Joe, a kindly but rather dull blacksmith who raises him. Biddy, who helps out in the home insightfully points out that Joe feels self-sufficient in his humble calling and he would merely be embarrassed by the inadequacy he would feel in high society. I found this to be a particularly clever challenge to the elitism and smugness that high society often takes towards those who move in other circles.

Upon reflecting I tend to think that this part of the story is cutting a bit too close, considering my own life circumstances. While I'm certainly not embarrassed upon my upbringing, I seem to be fighting strongly against my change in circumstances at times, while not at all at other times. While I'm certainly not rich by any estimation, I realise that I am becoming one of those people on the inside of the system I used to rail against. Sometimes it is quite easy to stop fighting and simply take my newly found social status for granted, becoming complacent to the causes that I once eagerly fought for. I must confess that it is a fine balancing act sometimes, and even harder when you struggle to feel empathy for those things that you know should be important.

Of course, I haven't read the second half of the novel yet, by which stage I will probably come to quite a different impression. I guess it is the same thing with respect to my life. I know all too well in my head that life is by no means a constant journey and that there will be times of waxing and waning enthusiasm for those things that were once important to me. What's more, you can be in the forrest and not see where you are because all the trees get in your way. It is all too cliched to say that things will be more understandable with the benefit of hindsight, because this doesn't help me much now. Whether one plods along aimlessly or carefully charts a path, one doesn't always know whether they are choosing the wisest course. I guess it is during those times that we are to "walk by faith", whatever that means ...

Mark Latham on Social Capital

Today, however, the biggest problems in society, the things that cause hardship and distress for people, tend to be relationship-based - social issues, not economic. The paradox is stunning: we live in a nation with record levels of financial growth and prosperity, yet also with record levels of discontent and public angst.

...

A striking aspect of this phenomenon has been the way in which it has affected all parts of society, regardless of their economic standing. Poor communities, after several generations of long-term unemployment and financial disadvantage in Australia, now face the further challenge of social disintegration, a loss of self-esteem and solidarity. Thirty years ago, these communities where financially poor but socially rich. Today they face poverty on both fronts.

While the middle class in Australia has experienced the assets and wealth of an unprecedented economic boom, its social balance sheet has moved in the opposite direction. The treadmill of work and the endless accumulation of material goods have not necessarily made people happier. In many cases, they have denied them the time and pleasures of family life, replacing strong and loving social relationships with feelings of stress and alienation.

This is the savage trade-off of middle-class life: generating financial wealth but at a significant cost to social capital. Thus social exclusion needs to be understood as more than just financial poverty; it also includes the poverty of society, the exclusion of many affluent Australians from strong and trusting personal relationships.

- Mark Latham, "The Latham Diaries", (2005)

A Pacifist Perspective on Anzac Day

Anzac Day seems to be somewhat of a religious holiday in Australia, even moreso than Easter and Christmas, which have largely become a conduit for commercialism. Perhaps the appeal of Anzac Day to our largely secular nation is that it is somewhat of a religious observance for those that are repelled by institutional religion. I remember waking up in my Scouting days to go down to the local dawn service, long before the sun had dawned. Freezing in my Scout's uniform, straining to see in front of me and hearing the solemn words of old men seemed to be sacred stuff. Add the moments of silence, interrupted only be a lone trumpet playing "The Last Post", and you have a liturgy that engages most of the population more than your average church service.

Some fifteen years later as an avowed and unashamed pacifist, it is difficult to know what to make of Anzac Day. There are times that I feel that my pacifism will be received as a mark of ingratitude, a dismissive "thanks, but no thanks" to the fallen Australian soldiers who died on the fields of Gallipoli. And yet I must acknowledge that I did not ask these individuals to fight on my behalf, and would not wish anybody to fight on my behalf if we faced the same situation today. Surely, I would hope, there is a way of both denouncing war in all of its forms and respecting the convictions of the Anzacs?

Firstly, Anzac Day should not be regarded as a glorification of war. Even those who believe in the efficacy of war as a means of settling disputes generally regard such action as a necessary evil and as a last resort. Accordingly, those who use Anzac Day to promote their militaristic agendas should be roundly condemned for their rhetoric and we should make it clear that these people do not represent the Anzac spirit they profess to represent. Anzac Day is a celebration of those who responded to the perceived call that their country needed them, rather than a celebration of the bureaucrats who made the decision to send us off to war.

Secondly, the fact that the Anzacs chose to go to war to fight the enemy is not the reason we choose to venerate them. Rather, it is the fact that these individuals were willing to lay down their lives in the belief that this would bring freedom to their families back in Australia. As Jesus said "Greater love has no one than this, that a man lay his life down for his friends" (John 15:13). That is disagreeing with the belief that war can ever bring freedom will never change the fact that these soldiers were willing to die for others.

Thirdly, I believe that Anzac Day can serve as an effective and an appropriate vehicle to express the virtues of pacifism. Anzac Day reminds us not only of the sacrifices of those who went to war, but also of the evils of war. War, more than any other phenomenon has tragically cut short the lives of people in their prime, whether they be solidiers or civilians. Indeed, it is for this reason that a great number of those fought in the World Wars and saw the senseless distruction of war for themselves became pacifists. Perhaps it is their voices that need to be heard and their opinions that need to be respected on a day like today.

I'd like to think that the above considerations are able to give proper respect to the fallen Anzac soldiers, while nonetheless condemning the atrocity of war. While unlike the Anzacs, there is no cause that I could ever regard worthy of killing for, I'd like to think that there are some things that I would be prepared to die for. And simply because I will not kill, does not mean that I will not fight for what I believe in. It is simply that my battle is not with flesh and blood, but rather with powers and principalities, with structures of greed, power and intolerance. No amount of killing will ever excise these dark places of the human soul.

Lest we forget.

Kierkegaard's "Attack on Christendom"

The Christianity of Christendom...takes away from Christianity the offense, the paradox, etc., and instead of that introduces probability, the plainly comprehensible. That is, it transforms Christianity into something entirely different from what it is in the New Testament, yea, into exactly the opposite; and this is the Christianity of Christendom, of us men.

- Soren Kierkegaard, (1854) "Attack on Christendom"

Weekend at Virgie's

Two New York men have taken the term "dole bludger" to new heights after they tried to cash in the social security cheque of their dead friend. The men, James O'Hare and David Daloia were charged with wheeling the corpse of their friend around Manhattan to cash in an office chair to cash in his benefits. Apparently, when they went into the Social Security office, the clerk asked to see the man named on the cheque, Virgilio Cintron. The pair agreed to bring him in, but by the time they went back to the sidewalk where they had left him, a crowd of people had gathered around the deceased man. During court proceedings the two men maintained their innocence, insisting that when they wheeled their friend out the front door he was very much alive. Because the autopsy was not conclusively able to pinpoint a time of death, the pair were acquitted on the basis that prosecuters could not prove that the deceased was actually dead at the time.

The story has been circulating around radio stations on the east coast of America, with shock jocks expressing their outrage at the event. It is disgraceful, they say, that this man was receiving social security cheques in the first place, since it is clear that he wouldn't work in an iron lung ...

Becoming Whole

Tonight I attended the first evening of Branches, an introduction to the Catholic faith that seems to operate very much along the lines of evangelical programs such as "Introducing God". I'm quite interested in seeing the way that Catholics present their faith to non-Catholics, so I thought I'd go along to see what it's like. In particular, I wanted to see if the whole tradition of natural theology in Catholicism, as opposed to special revelation in evangelicalism, would mean that the respective programs would diverge very quickly into different paths. The first thing that I discovered was that I was probably one of the few non-Catholics there, although no doubt that there were many Catholics there who had only a peripheral relationship with the Church.

Tonight was a very general introduction that couldn't necessarily be identified as esoterically Catholic. The focus was upon the desires of the heart - that is, what are our most instinctive yearnings and what is the basis of this existential angst. While the things that we desire may be explained in different ways depending upon one's worldview, I would suggest that Catholic and Protestant alike yearn for wholeness, whether it be in our relationships, our knowledge or our sense of self. Almost by definition, we yearn for wholeness because we are not whole. We seem to have an instinctive sense of our own fallenness and brokenness. Of course, once we reach that realisation, existential angst sets in and we try to do things to make ourselves whole. A lot of the times, we chase after things that do nothing to really to permanently address our brokenness. At its worst, chasing after certain things will be quite self-destructive and will only serve to make us more broken than before.

With that in mind, I think I might soon partake in my Tuesday night indulgence - going to see a movie at the cinemas. I think I'll watch "Forgetting Sarah Marshall", a film about a guy's attempt to repair the brokenness that becomes evident after a relationship break up. I must admit that I am looking forward to the prospect of seeing someone else's misery to alleviate aspects of my own brokenness. Disturbingly it would appear that deep down I have rather sadistic tendencies ...

The Best Books Ever Banned

After reading a novel, I usually tend to read the corresponding Wikipedia article for a more general background and then Spark Notes to hone in on some of the more specific features of the text I wanted to examine. When I finished "To Kill a Mockingbird" and underwent this procedure, I was surprised to learn about the varied reactions to the book. It turns out that while Harper Lee's classic was typically well received by white audiences, black audiences were much more critical. On the face of it, this would seem to be quite strange, considering that one of the main aims of the novel is to condemn racism and intolerance. However, once one begins to examine the substance of the complaints against the novel, one becomes more sympathetic. Some of the criticisms levelled at the novel include the depiction of black people as uneducated and as victims, as well as suggestions that Calpurnia plays the role of the "contented slave". It is also noted that the racial epithet "nigger" is used some 48 times in the novel. Most of the time, this is used in a derogatory fashion by white people, although at other times the used of the term is neutral. In particular, there is a scene in the novel where Atticus, the hero, chastises his children for using the term, who apparently use the term without any real understanding of its cultural baggage.

My enquiries into "To Kill a Mockingbird" sent me onto a tangent in which I looked at some of the most challenged and banned books in American classrooms. The American Library Foundation has published a list of some of the most famous novels to face the axe and the reason for which it was proposed that they should be banned from the High School curriculum. Having read quite a few of those novels, it would appear that many of the criticisms levelled at these works are hardly justified, although I can understand the concern with exposing one's children to such content. It is certainly possible that if one is not old enough to understand some of the underlying irony behind a certain novel, it is quite possible that they may get the wrong idea about what the novel is trying to convey. At the same time, the novels have the capacity to encourage students to reflect upon important issues in a new way.

Personally, I'd like any children I may have in the future to be avid readers. In particular, I'd want them to be exposed to some of the great texts that I have been had the good fortune to read. When in their childhood such novels would be appropriate for them I would only be able to assess at the time, but I think that sometimes we give children much less credit than we ought to when it comes to understanding some fairly adult issues. By preventing them from being exposed to things that are potentially unpleasant, I believe we infantilise them and prevent their emotional and spiritual development. At the same time, perhaps it would be appropriate to oversee this reading process in order to help my future children understand these issues in their proper context.

All Hail Prince Roy of Sealand

Last night I found myself at a 50th birthday for one of my friend's mothers. The whole point of my attendance was simply to make this evening somewhat more tolerable for my friend. Fortunately, we both made it through unscathed, although watching people in the late forties and early fifties who had had a little too much to drink was a little bit scary.

Last night was spent talking about our school days and the speculative science that is psychology. I also found out about Sealand, a micronation lying ten kilometres off the coast of England, near the English Channel. The principality, which covers an area of 4,000 square metres, is located on what used to be known as HM Fort Rough, a now disused World War II fort that lies in international waters beyond the maritime exclusion zone of the United Kingdom. Sealand apparently has its own national anthem, its own currency (fixed at one U.S. dollar) and a constitution. Independance was declared from the United Kingdom in 1967.

Two events have shaped Sealand's short but proud history. The first event was the war with the United Kingdom in 1990, when the United Kingdom aimed to take possession of waters around Sealand after the redefinition of territorial waters according to international law in 1989. It is reported that a citizen of Sealand shot at one of the approaching naval vessels. Rather than risk a diplomatic incident, the United Kingdom army turned around in defeat. A "state" of some two dozen people had defeated the British Empire. The second event occurred on 23 June 2006, being the Great Fire of Sealand. The top platform of the Roughs Tower caught fire due to an electrical failure. But this was not to deter the proud nation, who were able to complete the rebuilding process by the November of that year.