As I look around the theoblogosphere, I've noticed that the title for this blog might seem odd, or even perhaps patronizing, in comparison to other titles. It is also not very descriptive up front, so here is my effort to give a better descriptive identity to a blog titled flying.farther.
I got the title from my favorite Jars of Clay song. (Now don't pigeon hole me into "Christian Music", after all some of my favorite bands are: the Decemberists, Death Cab for Cutie, Crosstide, Queen, Lovedrug, and moody, slow Chopin sonatas and preludes. However, this Jars song has got to be one of my favorite songs. I highly suggest that one gives it a listen somehow, it was in the White Elephant sessions cd.) As you will probably notice over time, I really, and I mean really, like ecclesiology. I titled the blog "flying.farther" because with a creative interpretation, the song can be understood as a relational reading of the body of Christ -- we love one another through this life and onto the next, inspite of the pain associated with the fallen world. Also, it has a depiction of solidarity with the dead: heartfelt rememberance. The outcome of the reading is that I myself do not move farther, but rather we all grow old together, moving farther into the promises of God and the Divine itself.
Flying Farther
He picked her up some flowers
On a sunday afternoon
They sat out on the porch swing
Underneath the cresent moon
Life times seemed to pass
Staring at the skies
And on the swing he gave her the ring
There were tears in her eyes
He said I pray I'm not alone
In my dreams about forever
You and I could become one
And always be together
We'd grow old and wise
Through all the days
For worse or for better
And now the truth cause I love you
Even now more than ever
And a lifetime flies but we'll fly farther
Into the night where the eyes of loneliness can never bother
All our dreams of together uneclipsed by never never
Lifetime finds it's in your eyes, but we'll fly farther
Fifty years have ridden off into the sunset
And the tears that we have cried have overflown
Here we are counting scars, wounds of life and ending upsets
Your with me and I'm with you and I will never forget
Lifetime flies but we'll fly farther
Into the night where the eyes of loneliness will never bother
All our dreams of together uneclipsed by never never
Lifetime finds it's in your eyes, but we'll fly farther
He picked her up some flowers
On a sunday afternoon
He rode the Grayhound bus past the house they used to swoon
He knelt beside the grave, hung his head, a teardrop fell
And on the stone the epitaph shone the words he knew so well...
Lifetime flies but we'll fly farther
Into the night where the eyes of loneliness will never bother
All our dreams of together uneclipsed by never never
Lifetime finds it's in your eyes, but we'll fly farther
Lifetime flies but we'll fly farther
Into the night where the eyes of loneliness will never bother
All our dreams of together, uneclipsed by never never
Lifetime finds it's in your eyes, but we'll fly farther
We'll fly farther
We'll fly farther
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Friday, April 27, 2007
Looking for the Puppeteer: Constantine, Housio of Cordoba, Imperial Power, Doctrinal Formation, Theologians and Historians
I have a warning. This post is long, but it really in no way lends itself to a shorter or more conversational post. It is already fairly conversational, despite that it turns out to be a paper on historiography. Also, shortening more than it already is would weaken the integrity of the argument and I certainly do not want to do that, for this could fly in the face of a number of my theological friends and I want to be careful with what I say and how it is backed up.
This post calls into question Stanley Hauerwas’ history of “Constantinianism.” I still like a lot of what Hauerwas says (he is far more experienced and smarter than I’ll ever be and I do not mean to be presumptious), but I think his use of history, particularly the reliance on a couple of events around Constantine is shaky ground. I think if we are going to run with a political theology (rooted in history, or memory if we want to be Metzian) about interaction between the church and the modern nation-state, then William Cavanaugh presents a very good interpretation of the historical landscape beginning with the European early modern period (in Theopolitical Imagination). Anyways, I do not get into Cavanaugh in the post, perhaps later, but I do end with a construction about what I think Hauerwas really can or should say.
Approaching Critically the Past and Present
As I have grown as a theologian and become increasingly aware of theological conversations, the controversial issue of imperial power and early Christian formation has come to the forefront in my life so to speak. First there is Stanley Hauerwas’ assertion about the Constantinian shift (Constantianism).1 While the Hauerwas’ condemnation of Constantinianism is nothing particularly new, per se, my exposure to Hauerwas’ work is relatively recent, as my first exposure was around four years ago. Soon to follow on the heels of Hauerwas, at least in my life, was the popular Da Vinci Code. While the Da Vinci Code itself was nothing scholarly, and largely inaccurate even when it did claim to be correct, I did begin to see a deeper question developing: How much influence did secular power have in the formation of Christianity? And more importantly, was the imperial power corrupting?
However, as I researched I realized that answering these two questions are exceedingly complex and possibly not entirely answerable, or at least directly, for the following reasons:
Little Documentation
We have very little documentation for what is seen as this history changing event. There is nothing from left from the Council of Nicaea – there are no surviving writings from during the Council, not even the creed, and the reason we have it now is because it was later saved on paper in a following council that revised the Nicene creed.2 In fact, “Within twenty-five years a leading participant in the council wrote a book about it and had to rely on his memory for an account of what went on.”3 For such an important council, that seems to some to have determined the fate of Christianity with some sort of finality (Hauerwas and the Da Vinci Code), it is rather telling to have only minute information about it from sources written years later.
With such a skewed vision of what happened, or simply a lack of knowledge, the imagination of anyone can pervade the events to their liking; something outlandish can appear to be reality and the only response is, “Perhaps, but probably not because we just do not know.”
Councils are not Quick or Alone
Little documentation concerning Nicaea takes on an even greater importance than it ought to when Nicaea becomes one of the privileged moments in history. When Nicaea becomes a larger than life event, the event then incorrectly eclipses the surrounding context – a context of continuous creed making and argument. The problems concerning Christology were never totally finished in Nicaea, but to say the contrary, or to view Nicaea alone as the starting or ending point, is to misunderstand Nicaea in relation to not only the Arian conflict, but also to the other great creeds, like Constantinople I, Ephesus and others, that followed in an attempt to reform and improve the Christological understanding.
We cannot ignore the continuation of the Arian conflict, in which emperors continued to weigh in on. When we say “Constantinianism”, rather we must understand any “Constantinianism” as at least a process that continued long beyond the death of Constantine to at least Constantinople I to find fruition in Theodosius I’s raising Christianity to officially the state religion, if we are not reaching farther to Chalcedon. This is if one is to use the term “Constantinianism” at all. A sweeping change of status and power was not achievable by one ruler (there were sons and successive emperors necessary to carry on the work), as nor was Christianity unified by one Council.
Everything in a Word
As much of a problem it is to focus on one council, particularly one we know through second hand histories, it is even more problematic to base one’s idea of how the induction of one word occurred. It seems that often Homoousion becomes a microcosm for the whole discussion of imperial power in the church and the point where one stakes a claim on the imperial intervention, despite the fact that the emperor did not have the right to vote, but only to confirm and pronounce the vote as an edict and was also barred from the Eucharist and membership in the church since we was not baptized.4 Of course we have writings that say that Constantine brought up the word itself, but was it in exasperation or was it part of a grand conspiracy or was it something in between? The sources do not tell us if it was a suggestion or a heavy-handed order from the emperor. We know Constantine desired to unify his empire and wanted to use Christianity to that end, however, that still tells us preciously little about the back-story of presenting the word.
Also, something rarely taken into account by anyone other than the professional historians, is the influence Christians had on Constantine about presenting Homoousion. It is entirely possible that Housio (or Ossius) of Cordoba, the adviser to Constantine, prompted Constantine to suggest the word. And likewise a similar circumstance occurred with the Donatist controversy.5 Perhaps the puppet was the emperor himself.6 It seems tenuous at best to rely heavily on one council to define an outlook, much less the introduction of one word and the little we know about the atmosphere in which it was birthed, other than that the Arians objected, but still signed.
Constantine Scrubbed Clean
Constantine seems scrubbed clean by many Christians and some historians, both past and current.7 The texts passed down that “chronicled” the greatness of Constantine were explicitly meant to influence how we understand “Constantine the Great” and in there seems to be little account as to the moral diversity of actions committed by him. There is the assumption that Constantine was the first Christian emperor, and a glorious one at that, rather than an emperor who had a vision of Apollo and seemed to have continued to continue pagan practices with his so called Christianity.8
Many texts also gloss over theopolitical developments around the time of Constantine and the affects of Caesarpapistic Christologies, as both Nicene and Arian contended for, for a time.9 At least one view held that the emperor is “not the ruler of one people, class or religion: he is the just ruler and saviour (sic) of all. The emperor is to be like God in all respects, a heavenly being, … he is most like God, [in] is his philanthropia [love of humankind]. His mind intent upon heaven, he strives to be the image of God…the imitation of God’s fatherhood.”10 In this sense, the emperor becomes a manifestation of God – the image of the Logos – an avatar, an incarnation, or theophany if you will.11 As the emperor is the avatar, the “authority of the emperor stems not from the people or the army but from God” and the word of the emperor “may be taken for a canon.”12
Combining this development of theopolitical identity with the previous identity of emperors, largely manifested in the cultic worship of a human who will die and become divine, the office of emperor becomes an interestingly tricky and problematic place for Christians theologically and politically. As the emperor assumes divine-like closeness, Christians and historians of the past and today, possibly incorrectly, call the relationship apostleship or “sanctification of the temporal order”, instead of an imperial grab for equal status with Christ.13 Dr. McGuckin asserts that this move towards closeness was the attempt by Constantine to assert himself as both Christ and the Unconquered Sun of Apollo, which he seemed to have dialectically maintained through his life and even into death.14 Thus, to call an emperor – Constantine – solely Christian, who interestingly seemed to reflect the modern evangelical concept of radical conversion, by later Christians results in the historical bleaching of the emperor identity and acceptance of Christian history, or propaganda, as truth. While the Nicenes eventually pulled away from Caesarpapism, but only when Constanius, an Arian, rose to power; nevertheless, to act or write as if there was little complexity in the conflicting debates is disingenuous at best.15
Also, with a Constantine scrubbed clean, there is little way of showing how the Nicene faction began to assert ecclesial independence and reaction against any attempts by Constantine to assert an emperor cult within Christianity or Constantine’s movement towards Arianism through Eusebius of Nicomedia.16 The assertion of ecclesial independence and its Caesarpapism is vital to the understanding of Church and State relationship in centuries to follow, particularly within the fourth century where the Arian crisis continued unabated for years.
These are Modern Questions
On a final note, these questions are fundamentally modern questions; these questions are not, it seems, what the early Christians would be asking about Church and State. We ought to proceed carefully so as to not project the idea of the modern nation-state onto the past, and also not to assume that there was some form of separation of Church and State. “There was no place in the thought of Eusebius (or the Arian Reviser) for two related but distinct societies, the church and the Christianized State, each with its special task under Christ as Basileus kai Hiereus, but rather one God, one emperor, one religion, and a single-minded dutiful episcopate.”17 Thus, to lie on top of the historical narrative our own political and theological assumptions would entirely miss the assumptions and beliefs of the past for they seem radically different, if not merely pre-modern.
Constructing the Past
The entire narrative is complex to begin with and made far more complex with the lack of sources, not to mention that there is rarely a broad consensus between current historians about what actually happened.18 And as a complex issue, the eventual and correct answer from a historical understanding for the original questions about the influence of imperial power is: yes, no and kind of; which is to say, we are dealing largely with probability, similar to Constantine’s conversion, whenever that really was.19 The over arching answer simply put is: everyone is attempting to use everyone else. It seems that at the time, Christians are attempting to use imperial power, as imperial power is attempting to use Christians, all the while we have second hand texts that attempt to denounce or elevate party lines and individuals within along the lines of the bias within the text.
We know of Constantine as a consensus builder, or said in another way, a man in both camps and attempted to balance them in co-existence, although tolerance seemed to be his last resort.20 He raised up a statue that could be interpreted favorably by pagans and Christians alike and he gave the church money and property, but did not give up his title Pontifex Maximus or cease the financial contributions to the pagan cults.21 Likewise, along the same lines, the council itself was a “joint result of an episcopal and imperial decision.”22 It seems that one can solidly say, that in Constantine’s attempt to unify his empire, he became a friend to all sides and a proper politician.
At the same time, as mentioned earlier, the church both welcomed Caesarpapism and eventually, other factions found the imperial power disconcerting and responded towards independence to some degree. Nevertheless, there was always some sort of relation between Church and State, be it a bishop as imperial legate or Constantine himself.23
It is clear that Constantine called the Council, seeking unity, but it is also true that Constantine did not have direct access to controlling the Council itself; both Constantine and the bishops kept him distanced from control, as he could not vote and he treated the bishops with respect in their own council.24 Perhaps there was subterfuge somewhere or the emperor attempted to script part of the council, but this is all conjecture and unknowable. Likewise, the puppeteer who originally suggested Homoousion, be it Constantine, Housio or someone else, we will probably never know short of finding new documents.
Addressing History Correctly as a Theologian
History can only speak to the facts, rarely to conjecture even with a large caveat, and never to a “what if” question. Facts in this case are relatively low in number and disinformation is high. Thus, what we can begin to judge is whether or not calling the councils, through imperial means, did harm to the church. Did the church lose itself as it began to grow or did it adapt to the opportunities at hand? This is ultimately the question that Hauerwas seeks to answer and he can begin to answer this without resorting to leaning on conjecture or assumptions that because the emperor suggested something it is tainted or an attempt to control.
Thus, in order for Hauerwas to rightly begin to speak about “Constantianism” as a Christian shift towards combining with secular, and possibly evil, power structures, he ought to look later where synchronization seems in full swing and the examples are blatant and plentiful, rather than shrouded in mystery.
Perhaps also, Hauerwas would do well to look at where the Church seems to be reneging its Christian call as he defines it, rather than looking specifically for the imperial power subjecting the church to the secular. Ultimately, no matter what the secular power attempts to do, be it Theodosius I or Diocletian’s persecution, it is the church that allows or rejects the intrusion and thus, the church is responsible for its own secularization. It seems that Hauerwas would do better to focus on the church allowing the emperor who has retained the title Pontifex Maximus to sit in the council and speak, rather than basing a great deal on the Edict of Milan and Homoousion.25
________
1. Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon, Resident Aliens: Life in a Christian Colony (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1992) and The Hauerwas Reader edited by John Berkman and Michael Cartwright (Durham: Duke University Press, 2001).
2. Robert Grant, “Religion and Politics at the Council of Nicaea” The Journal of Religion, 55 (Jan., 1975), 1.
3. Ibid., 1.
4. Johannes Straub, “Constantine as ###### ######### Tradition and Innovation in the Representation of the First Christian Emperor’s Majesty” Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 21 (1967), 48-49.
5. Ibid., 47-48.
6. Victor C. De Clercq, Ossius of Cordova (Washington D.C.: Catholic University Press, 1954), 218-281. Francis Dvornik, “Emperors, Popes, and General Councils” Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 6 (1951), 10. John McGuckin, The Westminster Handbook to Patristic Theology (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), 74, 172-173. Though some think it improbable that Ossius suggested the word, nevertheless, Hanson states it is also improbably that the word originated from Constantine. RPC Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God: The Arian Controversy (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1988), 201-202.
7. “Eusebius, Lactantius and others….” “The bulk of the written material is by Christians about christiainity, thus strongly illuminating one side of Constantine’s character and life but leaving another in deep shadow. Modern scholars usually submit to this balance of light, rightly if they are studying the reign as an important episode in the history of the Church, wrongly if they are studying it on its own terms and for its own sake.” Ramsay MacMullen, Constantine (New York: Croom Helm, 1987), 243-244.
8. Emperor as Pontifex Maximus in Colm Luibhéid, The Council of Nicaea (Ireland: Galway University Press, 1982), 12-16.
9. George Huntston Williams, “Christology and Church-State Relations” Church History, 20 (1951), 8-10.
10. Ibid., 22.
11. Johannes Roldanus, The Church in the Age of Constantine: The Theological Challenges (New York: Routledge, 2006), 60-61. Williams, 6-8. Massey H. Shepard, Jr., “Liturgical Expressions of the Constantinian Triumph” Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 21 (1967), 78.
12. Williams, 22-23.
13. Shepard, 74-75.
14. From discussion with Professor McGuckin and also in McGuckin, 74-75.
15. Williams, 9-10.
16. McGuckin, 74-75. Dale Irvin and Scott Sunquist, History of the World Christian Movement Volume 1: Earliest Christianity to 1453 (New York: Orbist Books, 2006), 177.
17. Williams, 19.
18. I have even come across at least three different dates for the beginning of the Council of Nicaea, and this speaks to the lack of consensus between historians on the small details, much less the more important subjects.
19. T. G. Elliott, “Constantine’s Conversion: Do We Really Need It?” Pheonix, 41 (1987), 420.
20. Grant, 2.
21. Straub, 44, 46-47.
22. Francis Dvornik, “Emperors, Popes, and General Councils” Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 6 (1951), 9.
23. Grant, 5.
24. Ibid., 7.
25. Resident Aliens, 17.
Works Consulted but not Cited
Barnes, Timothy. Constantine and Eusebius. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1981.
Drake, H. A. Constantine and the Bishops: The Politics of Intolerance. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000.
_____, and Eusebius. In Praise of Constantine. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1975.
Meyendorff, John. Imperial Unity and Christian Divisions: The Church 450-680 A.D. Crestwood, New York: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1989.
Young, Frances. From Nicaea to Chalcedon: A Guide to the Literature and its Background. Philedelphia: Fortress Press, 1983.
This post calls into question Stanley Hauerwas’ history of “Constantinianism.” I still like a lot of what Hauerwas says (he is far more experienced and smarter than I’ll ever be and I do not mean to be presumptious), but I think his use of history, particularly the reliance on a couple of events around Constantine is shaky ground. I think if we are going to run with a political theology (rooted in history, or memory if we want to be Metzian) about interaction between the church and the modern nation-state, then William Cavanaugh presents a very good interpretation of the historical landscape beginning with the European early modern period (in Theopolitical Imagination). Anyways, I do not get into Cavanaugh in the post, perhaps later, but I do end with a construction about what I think Hauerwas really can or should say.
Approaching Critically the Past and Present
As I have grown as a theologian and become increasingly aware of theological conversations, the controversial issue of imperial power and early Christian formation has come to the forefront in my life so to speak. First there is Stanley Hauerwas’ assertion about the Constantinian shift (Constantianism).1 While the Hauerwas’ condemnation of Constantinianism is nothing particularly new, per se, my exposure to Hauerwas’ work is relatively recent, as my first exposure was around four years ago. Soon to follow on the heels of Hauerwas, at least in my life, was the popular Da Vinci Code. While the Da Vinci Code itself was nothing scholarly, and largely inaccurate even when it did claim to be correct, I did begin to see a deeper question developing: How much influence did secular power have in the formation of Christianity? And more importantly, was the imperial power corrupting?
However, as I researched I realized that answering these two questions are exceedingly complex and possibly not entirely answerable, or at least directly, for the following reasons:
Little Documentation
We have very little documentation for what is seen as this history changing event. There is nothing from left from the Council of Nicaea – there are no surviving writings from during the Council, not even the creed, and the reason we have it now is because it was later saved on paper in a following council that revised the Nicene creed.2 In fact, “Within twenty-five years a leading participant in the council wrote a book about it and had to rely on his memory for an account of what went on.”3 For such an important council, that seems to some to have determined the fate of Christianity with some sort of finality (Hauerwas and the Da Vinci Code), it is rather telling to have only minute information about it from sources written years later.
With such a skewed vision of what happened, or simply a lack of knowledge, the imagination of anyone can pervade the events to their liking; something outlandish can appear to be reality and the only response is, “Perhaps, but probably not because we just do not know.”
Councils are not Quick or Alone
Little documentation concerning Nicaea takes on an even greater importance than it ought to when Nicaea becomes one of the privileged moments in history. When Nicaea becomes a larger than life event, the event then incorrectly eclipses the surrounding context – a context of continuous creed making and argument. The problems concerning Christology were never totally finished in Nicaea, but to say the contrary, or to view Nicaea alone as the starting or ending point, is to misunderstand Nicaea in relation to not only the Arian conflict, but also to the other great creeds, like Constantinople I, Ephesus and others, that followed in an attempt to reform and improve the Christological understanding.
We cannot ignore the continuation of the Arian conflict, in which emperors continued to weigh in on. When we say “Constantinianism”, rather we must understand any “Constantinianism” as at least a process that continued long beyond the death of Constantine to at least Constantinople I to find fruition in Theodosius I’s raising Christianity to officially the state religion, if we are not reaching farther to Chalcedon. This is if one is to use the term “Constantinianism” at all. A sweeping change of status and power was not achievable by one ruler (there were sons and successive emperors necessary to carry on the work), as nor was Christianity unified by one Council.
Everything in a Word
As much of a problem it is to focus on one council, particularly one we know through second hand histories, it is even more problematic to base one’s idea of how the induction of one word occurred. It seems that often Homoousion becomes a microcosm for the whole discussion of imperial power in the church and the point where one stakes a claim on the imperial intervention, despite the fact that the emperor did not have the right to vote, but only to confirm and pronounce the vote as an edict and was also barred from the Eucharist and membership in the church since we was not baptized.4 Of course we have writings that say that Constantine brought up the word itself, but was it in exasperation or was it part of a grand conspiracy or was it something in between? The sources do not tell us if it was a suggestion or a heavy-handed order from the emperor. We know Constantine desired to unify his empire and wanted to use Christianity to that end, however, that still tells us preciously little about the back-story of presenting the word.
Also, something rarely taken into account by anyone other than the professional historians, is the influence Christians had on Constantine about presenting Homoousion. It is entirely possible that Housio (or Ossius) of Cordoba, the adviser to Constantine, prompted Constantine to suggest the word. And likewise a similar circumstance occurred with the Donatist controversy.5 Perhaps the puppet was the emperor himself.6 It seems tenuous at best to rely heavily on one council to define an outlook, much less the introduction of one word and the little we know about the atmosphere in which it was birthed, other than that the Arians objected, but still signed.
Constantine Scrubbed Clean
Constantine seems scrubbed clean by many Christians and some historians, both past and current.7 The texts passed down that “chronicled” the greatness of Constantine were explicitly meant to influence how we understand “Constantine the Great” and in there seems to be little account as to the moral diversity of actions committed by him. There is the assumption that Constantine was the first Christian emperor, and a glorious one at that, rather than an emperor who had a vision of Apollo and seemed to have continued to continue pagan practices with his so called Christianity.8
Many texts also gloss over theopolitical developments around the time of Constantine and the affects of Caesarpapistic Christologies, as both Nicene and Arian contended for, for a time.9 At least one view held that the emperor is “not the ruler of one people, class or religion: he is the just ruler and saviour (sic) of all. The emperor is to be like God in all respects, a heavenly being, … he is most like God, [in] is his philanthropia [love of humankind]. His mind intent upon heaven, he strives to be the image of God…the imitation of God’s fatherhood.”10 In this sense, the emperor becomes a manifestation of God – the image of the Logos – an avatar, an incarnation, or theophany if you will.11 As the emperor is the avatar, the “authority of the emperor stems not from the people or the army but from God” and the word of the emperor “may be taken for a canon.”12
Combining this development of theopolitical identity with the previous identity of emperors, largely manifested in the cultic worship of a human who will die and become divine, the office of emperor becomes an interestingly tricky and problematic place for Christians theologically and politically. As the emperor assumes divine-like closeness, Christians and historians of the past and today, possibly incorrectly, call the relationship apostleship or “sanctification of the temporal order”, instead of an imperial grab for equal status with Christ.13 Dr. McGuckin asserts that this move towards closeness was the attempt by Constantine to assert himself as both Christ and the Unconquered Sun of Apollo, which he seemed to have dialectically maintained through his life and even into death.14 Thus, to call an emperor – Constantine – solely Christian, who interestingly seemed to reflect the modern evangelical concept of radical conversion, by later Christians results in the historical bleaching of the emperor identity and acceptance of Christian history, or propaganda, as truth. While the Nicenes eventually pulled away from Caesarpapism, but only when Constanius, an Arian, rose to power; nevertheless, to act or write as if there was little complexity in the conflicting debates is disingenuous at best.15
Also, with a Constantine scrubbed clean, there is little way of showing how the Nicene faction began to assert ecclesial independence and reaction against any attempts by Constantine to assert an emperor cult within Christianity or Constantine’s movement towards Arianism through Eusebius of Nicomedia.16 The assertion of ecclesial independence and its Caesarpapism is vital to the understanding of Church and State relationship in centuries to follow, particularly within the fourth century where the Arian crisis continued unabated for years.
These are Modern Questions
On a final note, these questions are fundamentally modern questions; these questions are not, it seems, what the early Christians would be asking about Church and State. We ought to proceed carefully so as to not project the idea of the modern nation-state onto the past, and also not to assume that there was some form of separation of Church and State. “There was no place in the thought of Eusebius (or the Arian Reviser) for two related but distinct societies, the church and the Christianized State, each with its special task under Christ as Basileus kai Hiereus, but rather one God, one emperor, one religion, and a single-minded dutiful episcopate.”17 Thus, to lie on top of the historical narrative our own political and theological assumptions would entirely miss the assumptions and beliefs of the past for they seem radically different, if not merely pre-modern.
Constructing the Past
The entire narrative is complex to begin with and made far more complex with the lack of sources, not to mention that there is rarely a broad consensus between current historians about what actually happened.18 And as a complex issue, the eventual and correct answer from a historical understanding for the original questions about the influence of imperial power is: yes, no and kind of; which is to say, we are dealing largely with probability, similar to Constantine’s conversion, whenever that really was.19 The over arching answer simply put is: everyone is attempting to use everyone else. It seems that at the time, Christians are attempting to use imperial power, as imperial power is attempting to use Christians, all the while we have second hand texts that attempt to denounce or elevate party lines and individuals within along the lines of the bias within the text.
We know of Constantine as a consensus builder, or said in another way, a man in both camps and attempted to balance them in co-existence, although tolerance seemed to be his last resort.20 He raised up a statue that could be interpreted favorably by pagans and Christians alike and he gave the church money and property, but did not give up his title Pontifex Maximus or cease the financial contributions to the pagan cults.21 Likewise, along the same lines, the council itself was a “joint result of an episcopal and imperial decision.”22 It seems that one can solidly say, that in Constantine’s attempt to unify his empire, he became a friend to all sides and a proper politician.
At the same time, as mentioned earlier, the church both welcomed Caesarpapism and eventually, other factions found the imperial power disconcerting and responded towards independence to some degree. Nevertheless, there was always some sort of relation between Church and State, be it a bishop as imperial legate or Constantine himself.23
It is clear that Constantine called the Council, seeking unity, but it is also true that Constantine did not have direct access to controlling the Council itself; both Constantine and the bishops kept him distanced from control, as he could not vote and he treated the bishops with respect in their own council.24 Perhaps there was subterfuge somewhere or the emperor attempted to script part of the council, but this is all conjecture and unknowable. Likewise, the puppeteer who originally suggested Homoousion, be it Constantine, Housio or someone else, we will probably never know short of finding new documents.
Addressing History Correctly as a Theologian
History can only speak to the facts, rarely to conjecture even with a large caveat, and never to a “what if” question. Facts in this case are relatively low in number and disinformation is high. Thus, what we can begin to judge is whether or not calling the councils, through imperial means, did harm to the church. Did the church lose itself as it began to grow or did it adapt to the opportunities at hand? This is ultimately the question that Hauerwas seeks to answer and he can begin to answer this without resorting to leaning on conjecture or assumptions that because the emperor suggested something it is tainted or an attempt to control.
Thus, in order for Hauerwas to rightly begin to speak about “Constantianism” as a Christian shift towards combining with secular, and possibly evil, power structures, he ought to look later where synchronization seems in full swing and the examples are blatant and plentiful, rather than shrouded in mystery.
Perhaps also, Hauerwas would do well to look at where the Church seems to be reneging its Christian call as he defines it, rather than looking specifically for the imperial power subjecting the church to the secular. Ultimately, no matter what the secular power attempts to do, be it Theodosius I or Diocletian’s persecution, it is the church that allows or rejects the intrusion and thus, the church is responsible for its own secularization. It seems that Hauerwas would do better to focus on the church allowing the emperor who has retained the title Pontifex Maximus to sit in the council and speak, rather than basing a great deal on the Edict of Milan and Homoousion.25
________
1. Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon, Resident Aliens: Life in a Christian Colony (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1992) and The Hauerwas Reader edited by John Berkman and Michael Cartwright (Durham: Duke University Press, 2001).
2. Robert Grant, “Religion and Politics at the Council of Nicaea” The Journal of Religion, 55 (Jan., 1975), 1.
3. Ibid., 1.
4. Johannes Straub, “Constantine as ###### ######### Tradition and Innovation in the Representation of the First Christian Emperor’s Majesty” Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 21 (1967), 48-49.
5. Ibid., 47-48.
6. Victor C. De Clercq, Ossius of Cordova (Washington D.C.: Catholic University Press, 1954), 218-281. Francis Dvornik, “Emperors, Popes, and General Councils” Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 6 (1951), 10. John McGuckin, The Westminster Handbook to Patristic Theology (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), 74, 172-173. Though some think it improbable that Ossius suggested the word, nevertheless, Hanson states it is also improbably that the word originated from Constantine. RPC Hanson, The Search for the Christian Doctrine of God: The Arian Controversy (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1988), 201-202.
7. “Eusebius, Lactantius and others….” “The bulk of the written material is by Christians about christiainity, thus strongly illuminating one side of Constantine’s character and life but leaving another in deep shadow. Modern scholars usually submit to this balance of light, rightly if they are studying the reign as an important episode in the history of the Church, wrongly if they are studying it on its own terms and for its own sake.” Ramsay MacMullen, Constantine (New York: Croom Helm, 1987), 243-244.
8. Emperor as Pontifex Maximus in Colm Luibhéid, The Council of Nicaea (Ireland: Galway University Press, 1982), 12-16.
9. George Huntston Williams, “Christology and Church-State Relations” Church History, 20 (1951), 8-10.
10. Ibid., 22.
11. Johannes Roldanus, The Church in the Age of Constantine: The Theological Challenges (New York: Routledge, 2006), 60-61. Williams, 6-8. Massey H. Shepard, Jr., “Liturgical Expressions of the Constantinian Triumph” Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 21 (1967), 78.
12. Williams, 22-23.
13. Shepard, 74-75.
14. From discussion with Professor McGuckin and also in McGuckin, 74-75.
15. Williams, 9-10.
16. McGuckin, 74-75. Dale Irvin and Scott Sunquist, History of the World Christian Movement Volume 1: Earliest Christianity to 1453 (New York: Orbist Books, 2006), 177.
17. Williams, 19.
18. I have even come across at least three different dates for the beginning of the Council of Nicaea, and this speaks to the lack of consensus between historians on the small details, much less the more important subjects.
19. T. G. Elliott, “Constantine’s Conversion: Do We Really Need It?” Pheonix, 41 (1987), 420.
20. Grant, 2.
21. Straub, 44, 46-47.
22. Francis Dvornik, “Emperors, Popes, and General Councils” Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 6 (1951), 9.
23. Grant, 5.
24. Ibid., 7.
25. Resident Aliens, 17.
Works Consulted but not Cited
Barnes, Timothy. Constantine and Eusebius. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1981.
Drake, H. A. Constantine and the Bishops: The Politics of Intolerance. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000.
_____, and Eusebius. In Praise of Constantine. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1975.
Meyendorff, John. Imperial Unity and Christian Divisions: The Church 450-680 A.D. Crestwood, New York: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1989.
Young, Frances. From Nicaea to Chalcedon: A Guide to the Literature and its Background. Philedelphia: Fortress Press, 1983.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Moving towards a Metzian Ecclesiology
What is the most fundamental element or key insight that would have to be internalized before [Metz's ecclesiology] would become convincing to the congregation?
The American Christians must realize their social relationships and leave privatization before they can accept the whole of Metz’s ecclesiology.
A Bourgeois religion is dependent on privatization; in order to envision the Messianic nature of Christianity (MBR 12), we must first understand who we are. How we see ourselves is less universally governed by the church’s direction or definition, rather, as American’s our most universal understanding as to who we are is fundamentally through individual and nation-state interaction.
The American social contract – our constitution – is an enlightenment document that privatizes citizens; this country’s foundational anthropological lens is a privatized lens. The state converses, or coerces, the individual and vice versa, however, it is really only a two-person discussion: the individual and the state. There is no room for social organizations within the Constitution, even corporations are viewed in the eyes of the law as individual persons.
The American Christians needs to realize the influences of the Constitution and understand how the idea of a church is fundamentally a contrary social institution – the body of Christ (CWLPT 133). We can only get to the Christian call when we get past the American Dream and its hope (CR 146).
In the end, I am not calling for the burning of the Constitution or total anarchy, however, I am calling for the awakening of conscience in the American church to understand that the relationship with the government has been unhealthy for the body of Christ; the government defines us, instead of us finding definition amongst ourselves as the body of Christ, and we must first realize that the anthropology given to us by the government is not a Christian anthropology. We can still deal with the government, however, we should realize how that interaction changes us and from that understanding, we can begin to find freedom in relationship within the body.
________
Metz's cited texts:
"Messianic or 'Bourgeois' Religion" (MBR)
"The Church and the World in the light of 'Political Theology'" (CWLPT)
"Christian Responsiblity for Planning the Future in a Secular World" (CR)
The American Christians must realize their social relationships and leave privatization before they can accept the whole of Metz’s ecclesiology.
A Bourgeois religion is dependent on privatization; in order to envision the Messianic nature of Christianity (MBR 12), we must first understand who we are. How we see ourselves is less universally governed by the church’s direction or definition, rather, as American’s our most universal understanding as to who we are is fundamentally through individual and nation-state interaction.
The American social contract – our constitution – is an enlightenment document that privatizes citizens; this country’s foundational anthropological lens is a privatized lens. The state converses, or coerces, the individual and vice versa, however, it is really only a two-person discussion: the individual and the state. There is no room for social organizations within the Constitution, even corporations are viewed in the eyes of the law as individual persons.
The American Christians needs to realize the influences of the Constitution and understand how the idea of a church is fundamentally a contrary social institution – the body of Christ (CWLPT 133). We can only get to the Christian call when we get past the American Dream and its hope (CR 146).
In the end, I am not calling for the burning of the Constitution or total anarchy, however, I am calling for the awakening of conscience in the American church to understand that the relationship with the government has been unhealthy for the body of Christ; the government defines us, instead of us finding definition amongst ourselves as the body of Christ, and we must first realize that the anthropology given to us by the government is not a Christian anthropology. We can still deal with the government, however, we should realize how that interaction changes us and from that understanding, we can begin to find freedom in relationship within the body.
________
Metz's cited texts:
"Messianic or 'Bourgeois' Religion" (MBR)
"The Church and the World in the light of 'Political Theology'" (CWLPT)
"Christian Responsiblity for Planning the Future in a Secular World" (CR)
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Thoughts on Hermeneutics
Note: this post, like so many others, is the product of a class assignment, however, that is not to say I have not been thinking about this sort of thing on my own for quite sometime. There are clearly some holes within the post (like I say nothing about Barth and Word), but I think this begins to get to where I am currently at. Keep in mind that this also had to meet some professor specified requirements and although I have stripped away some unneccessary text for the internet, the form is still similar to what I turned in - when you wonder why I am actually looking at three views more indepth, it is because the prof wanted that. Anyways, enough talk, here are some thoughts on hermeneutics.
My Social Location and the Beginning of My Hermeneutic
In terms of social categories, I am the oppressor – Caucasian, male, and affluent. I am white and my genealogical makeup is European; it is German, Scottish, Irish, English, French Canadian and even has a hint of Icelandic red. Although my extended family has been in the North American continent for just over a century, it would seem that we have been here for longer – not because they come from old money (which they do not), instead there is a silence about the past and a sense of ownership and entitlement in the present that creates an atmosphere where the success of the past thirty years seems to re-create our entire story in terms of work and wealth. Granted there has been profound tragedy, separation between family members, and lower class status (during my parents’ childhood), however, that only serves to further the narcissism, rather than calling into question the truth of the family’s perception or bring people closer together. I come from a self-blinding family of white riches earned through the American dream and the power of oil.
Ironically, for all the money, hard work and conservative evangelical roots, my family is disconnected to say the least, and when there are relationships, they are generally warped through the lenses of patriotism, fear, imperialism, pain, wealth, and anger. I will say, that as they age, my family has developed and matured as persons (and maybe a cohesive family) in many ways, however, in the categories that Union cares about (mainly systemic oppression), my family is the quintessential oppressor – ignorant to their privilege and the pain of others.
As a Christian I have begun to react to what I see as wrong within my family and the church. I started with a problem that I saw in the evangelical church – that it lacks cohesion and relationality. Instead of brothers and sisters gathering for encouragement and support for themselves and those in the surrounding community, the church in my eyes seemed like a poorly done academic lecture with the inclusion of a popular sub-culture that had no intention of addressing the holistic needs of people. I saw to be the root of the problem to be the presupposition of individualism over community instead of the relational nature of the church acting like the body of Christ. My struggle for envisioning a right community led me towards kingdom theology – that is, the body of Christ enacting now the values of the suffering Christological and eschatological kingdom.
The church I was involved with (during my undergrad at a Bible College) was a group of believers that lived out the Christian call of prayer, preaching, and upbuilding and correction.1 I have never been so encouraged or supported in my life. I have never seen so few people meet the needs of so many people around them within the community, be it the Christian or secular communities. It is with this theology and experience that I begin my interpretations of the text.
Other Considerations – Some of My Basic Assumptions
First and foremost, we deal with a text and without access to the actual data that formed the text. Techniques of pre-rhetorical form are interesting and help one understand that the text was indeed fashioned in its own way by humans, how the text was influenced before it was written down, and as a possible indication as to the structure of the current text. Nevertheless, twenty-first century academics do not have access to the oral tradition, nor do we have access to “Q”, among other texts that would have helped form the text we have now. Method without the data itself seems a tenuous situation of theories based only on what can be dug up and thus I begin with the text that, for good or ill, Christians call Holy Scripture.
The Nature of the Text
We primarily deal with text that we find, to in some way, call scripture. The word scripture means that the text “is ‘authority’ for the common life of the Christian community.”2 And in as much scripture is authoritative for the community, “these texts are the church’s scripture”, and so this text is formative for the community, for the church – the community of faith.3 On another note, the use of the word scripture denotes “some kind of ‘wholeness” or canon.4 Thus, to call the biblical text scripture, is to say that the Bible is in some form an authoritative canon for the life of the community of faith.
As the Bible is a text, it is inherently genre specific, and best understood as a text with multiple genres – ranging from narrative, to poetic, to letter/epistle. Thus, whether reading or analyzing, it is vital to understand what genre the passage lies within; however, genre is a broad term that indicates a more detailed idea of structure like: introductions and closings, narration, story order, poetic devices (i.e. inclusio, repetition, chiasm, etc.), argumentative examples, word choice, how Paul is not writing a systematic theology and so forth. Simply put, analysis of the text as a text is incredibly important for me and, from what I can determine, is a rich tradition within the hermeneutical world and has produced: structuralism, post-structuralism, narrative criticism, rhetorical criticism, and canonical criticism to name a few.
Author, Text and Audience
Interestingly, textual criticism has run into rough waters with the advent of deconstructionism advocated by Jacques Derrida.5 Although there is a perceived demise of platonic language theory, I have found a haven within Speech-Act language theory – a theory that asserts both the author and the audience in relation to meaning are problematic, but the text does maintain meaning. This is to say that the author is inaccessible, but also on the other hand, the audience is not free to create meaning without the voice of the text; instead, the text itself retains meaning and is able to communicate meaning through clues like structure.
Elements of Interpretive Methodology from Class
Me in Relationship to Theories Presented in Class:
A great deal of the interpretive methodologies introduced, while not particularly new to me, were generally attractive to me. On the theme of liberation, I found the post-colonial, liberationist and (for lack of a better term) political-imperial criticism to be fairly interesting, if not convincing. A few summers ago I was listening to a number of recorded N. T. Wright lectures and that probably was the first time I saw the “Lord’s prayer” in a new light – a liberative light – that envisioned and cried out for the heavenly kingdom breaking into the present and against the imperial and false powers, which in that day was Rome. Even I, who am probably more on the conservative side at Union, has found a liberative reading of the Bible from a conservative, Anglican bishop. Also, I think in this context of America’s rule, I can move towards privileging a liberative reading of the Bible while still holding to my current core methodology; I see no reason why liberative readings (advocacy criticism) cannot join and mix with my current interpretive method and be more informative and compelling than a conservative, white, male, Anglican bishop. The result of the mixing would be an even richer and productive methodology for answering the true problems of the current world.
As one can probably tell, I am whole-heartedly for a communitarian hermeneutic and that it is not simply scripture alone, but also the local and universal community of faith that reads and interprets the text together. As far as redactionists, I appreciate the personal treatment given to each section of the text, be it story or sayings, however, redactionists can tend to lose the structure when they look too individually; they can lose the forest for the tree. Thus I prefer the canonical criticism approach that maintains that there is a theological/thematic center to each book and attempts to find the same for the entire Bible. As far as psycho-analytic criticism goes, I am hesitant when they attempt to characterize the author whom I do not think we can know, although I suppose an analysis of the tendencies in the text would prove interesting and likewise for the lens that the audience brings to the text. It is vital in my opinion to scrutinize the assumptions that the audience brings to the text; assumptions govern the types of questions the audience will ask and thus dictate the answers and, in the end, the theology supposedly derived from the text.
Three Theories from Class in Conversation with My Methodology:
Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza (Feminist)
A few years ago I would have been alarmed by feminist hermeneutics, for I was just coming from a house that had a mother who read Paul’s subordination to mean that a wife ought to submit to the husband in a conservative fashion (and she still does). Today my stance is much different, though I am still relatively new to it. At first glance I am worried by looking at a Canon within the Canon – my knee jerk reaction is that one book ought not to be subordinated to another book for no book is a second class citizen – however, I quickly realized that there is always a Canon within the Canon.6 With texts that were written in another context, and not always to us who is an audience 2,000 years later, we naturally drop all sorts of sayings and notions, no matter how literal one might pride themselves in being.
On this basis I have begun to make my peace with the hermeneutic of suspicion. When I came to Union, the view about the text seemed to say the Bible was helpful, but quickly the text turned to something largely distrusted, negative and harmful. It seemed as if the book in front of me transformed into a monster that was grabbing for my throat; I finally saw how truly the Bible could be oppressive. I called myself an egalitarian at Bible college and chided the hierarchical John Piper and Wayne Grudemn fans, but I had yet to really see the frustration from oppression – the women at the school either accepted hierarchy or rarely let out their frustration it seemed (or perhaps I just missed it). It is odd how suppression, in the guise of obedience, eliminates the reality of experience.
First and foremost I think we ought to take Paul seriously, and when we do so, we might encounter patriarchy, but we also encounter a Paul who seems to lead us towards a direction of subversion. It seems to me that Paul might have told people to stay in their place in the secular world (so as to be Christ), but he also told those whom the people are submitting to, to be submitters also. I do not think it a fluke that within the early church both women and slaves had a space to be human and free because the structures of the world were turned upside down. Paul could have been a chauvinist, or the text seems to reflect the patriarchal time in which it was written, and we should take those negatives seriously to see the humanity in the writings,7 but we should also notice that sometimes in the same breath the text moves towards freedom. Perhaps seeing a flawed text moving towards the suffering and risen eschatological kingdom is the best thing ever for those 2,000 years later who are doing the same thing within the same community of faith.
Vincent L. Wimbush ("Darkly")
Similar to feminist criticism, the African American hermeneutic that speaks about the African American experience and church approaches the text with a heremeneutic of suspicion; however, Wimbush is not speaking about gender, but race. Wimbush seeks to show theology the African American lens so to break white theologians out of their incorrectly narrow theology – a theology that sees only the white person, for it envisions a white Jesus.8 This idea is certainly nothing new after taking Prof. Cone’s systematic class last semester, nevertheless it is still powerful every time it is used for theology still seems to exist to some degree within whiteness.
However I wonder what happens when one enters into the church – the community of faith. Does this change how we see race or gender? Certainly oppression is not sanctioned, however, what happens once within the community? I have recently encountered an essay by J. Kameron Carter of Duke Divinity School titled “Christology, or Redeeming Whiteness: A Response to James Perkinson’s Appropriation of Black Theology.”9 Certainly there is the agreement to “call the white church to a deeper faithfulness to its Lord” and that Lord’s power instead of the power of whiteness; however, liturgy, and in particular baptism, is then what?10 Carter instead understands baptism as “induction into a different mode of being in the world, one that surpasses the mode of being whose nodal points are hegemonic and counterhegemonic.”11 Best understood, the induction into the community through baptism “involves handing oneself over to God in Christ so as to receive oneself back as a gift… [and thus] to receive Christ himself” on Christ’s terms and “mission” which moves from Martin Buber’s and James Cone’s use of I-Thou and into a political body in which exists a “different way of being.”12 I bring Carter’s essay up because itself has come up in discussions I have had with others on the topic of Black Liberation theology and this essay is already in dialogue with Cone inside my head, although it is unresolved. This is the question that chases after me now, now that I have been sensitized toward racism in theology.
Historical-Critical
Historical-criticism is something I appreciate, but am largely skeptical of. I disagree with the fundamental precept that we will actually know the author of the text.13 The author to Job is indeterminable, much less when the text was written, and while many books within the New Testament are certainly closer to our time than Job, the historical author seems still beyond our reach because of Derrida and my own experience of history. One of my majors in undergrad was a history major and I wrote a thesis that involved both primary and secondary sources around a rather unknown but controversial topic.14 Through my experience I discovered the utter reliance a historian has the texts and the baggage that comes with the texts, and I began to wonder how far history can inform humanity – certainly no more than concretely than, “it was probably like this from what we can determine at this time.” Ironically, history can only speak to what it has dug up and analyzed at that time, rather than stating for once what life was like; the past is always under construction and revision.
Another concern for me is those who use history, but do not have the adequate background. For instance, I have seen, in both the pulpit and the class room, the speaker who gives too much weight to one theory, without mentioning the other theories that are equally viable, and thus the speaker incorrectly privileges the theory to look like fact – I have seen Christians do terrible history, committing moves that the historical community would laugh at, and I want to avoid the disinformation and embarrassment. Likewise, I also want to avoid elevating the privileged theory to canonical status (one might call this midrashing with history), despite how unpopular it might be here at Union. We are Christians who have a text we call scripture and we ought to deal with it as such.
I have also lately become aware of a possible problem concerning the reliance on history for theology through Jürgen Moltmann’s chapter on the nature of history in his book Theology of Hope.15 His critique about history as a philosophy of crisis seems insightful concerning many schools of history. While Moltmann’s argument may or may not have aged well and has been adequately responded to, I am still concerned that the presumptions by current philosophical history (though at least excluding the Marxist historians) can, without examination, shape theology towards the French revolution instead of the cross and resurrection.
Despite all the negativity and urge to separate the categories of theology and history, there is within me a sympathy for history and certainly a few concessions. Without the study of the past, there would be no text – Greek would be gibberish. Even for the literary person who wants to avoid historical-criticism because of the language theory critique, the translation of a text is indebted to the study of languages; without an understanding of word meaning amongst various languages of the time like Syriac and Coptic, Greek would be indecipherable.
Also, I find interesting what history does have to say. I think I have the background to envision what history is actually saying (which is always less than we think) and therefore determining what is helpful that history claims. However, I still handle history as if it is apocrypha (though I still handle it) insomuch that it is outside of the canon, because it is, and therefore also outside of the community of faith’s interpretation.
_______________
1. This church, The Church of the Servant King, is part of the “New Monastic Movement” and is committed to the church as community. They have also been largely informed by recent ecclesial writings, particularly Stanley Hauewas. The Hauerwas Reader, edited by John Berkman and Michael Carwright (Durham: Duke University, 2002), 384-385. A list of what the church is and does: charity/hospitality; valuing both the married and single equally; fiscal responsibility and leveraging of resources for the needs of people; living simply; racially diverse; inclusion of all ages; resisting the Kingdom of Evil; and the list goes on.
2. The Uses of Scripture in Recent Theology by David H. Kelsey (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975) 89.
3. Ibid., 89.
4. Ibid., 89.
5. Is There A Meaning In this Text? by Kevin Vanhoozer (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1998).
6. In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins by Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza, (New York: Crossroad, 1994), 14.
7. Ibid., 18.
8. “Reading Darkness, Reading Scriptures” in African Americans and The Bible: Sacred Texts and Social Textures by Vincent L. Wimbush (New York: Continuum), 8-9.
9. “Christology, or Redeeming Whiteness: A Response to James Perkinson’s Appropriation of Black Theology” by J. Kameron Carter, Theology Today, 60, number 4, January 2004.
10. Ibid., 526.
11. Ibid., 537.
12. Ibid., 538.
13. An Introduction to the New Testament by Raymond E. Brown (New York: Doubleday, 1997), 35.
14. Titled: “Truth, Dare, and Death: Epistemological Conflict Between Quakers and Puritans in Boston, Massachusetts from 1656-1661.”
15. Theology of Hope by Jürgen Moltmann (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), 261. Although, perhaps I would do well to review one of the books for my Historiography class, History in Crisis? by Norman J. Wilson. This paragraph is meant to speak to a concern and question that has recently popped up within the last week in relation to other classes, rather than to give an answer.
My Social Location and the Beginning of My Hermeneutic
In terms of social categories, I am the oppressor – Caucasian, male, and affluent. I am white and my genealogical makeup is European; it is German, Scottish, Irish, English, French Canadian and even has a hint of Icelandic red. Although my extended family has been in the North American continent for just over a century, it would seem that we have been here for longer – not because they come from old money (which they do not), instead there is a silence about the past and a sense of ownership and entitlement in the present that creates an atmosphere where the success of the past thirty years seems to re-create our entire story in terms of work and wealth. Granted there has been profound tragedy, separation between family members, and lower class status (during my parents’ childhood), however, that only serves to further the narcissism, rather than calling into question the truth of the family’s perception or bring people closer together. I come from a self-blinding family of white riches earned through the American dream and the power of oil.
Ironically, for all the money, hard work and conservative evangelical roots, my family is disconnected to say the least, and when there are relationships, they are generally warped through the lenses of patriotism, fear, imperialism, pain, wealth, and anger. I will say, that as they age, my family has developed and matured as persons (and maybe a cohesive family) in many ways, however, in the categories that Union cares about (mainly systemic oppression), my family is the quintessential oppressor – ignorant to their privilege and the pain of others.
As a Christian I have begun to react to what I see as wrong within my family and the church. I started with a problem that I saw in the evangelical church – that it lacks cohesion and relationality. Instead of brothers and sisters gathering for encouragement and support for themselves and those in the surrounding community, the church in my eyes seemed like a poorly done academic lecture with the inclusion of a popular sub-culture that had no intention of addressing the holistic needs of people. I saw to be the root of the problem to be the presupposition of individualism over community instead of the relational nature of the church acting like the body of Christ. My struggle for envisioning a right community led me towards kingdom theology – that is, the body of Christ enacting now the values of the suffering Christological and eschatological kingdom.
The church I was involved with (during my undergrad at a Bible College) was a group of believers that lived out the Christian call of prayer, preaching, and upbuilding and correction.1 I have never been so encouraged or supported in my life. I have never seen so few people meet the needs of so many people around them within the community, be it the Christian or secular communities. It is with this theology and experience that I begin my interpretations of the text.
Other Considerations – Some of My Basic Assumptions
First and foremost, we deal with a text and without access to the actual data that formed the text. Techniques of pre-rhetorical form are interesting and help one understand that the text was indeed fashioned in its own way by humans, how the text was influenced before it was written down, and as a possible indication as to the structure of the current text. Nevertheless, twenty-first century academics do not have access to the oral tradition, nor do we have access to “Q”, among other texts that would have helped form the text we have now. Method without the data itself seems a tenuous situation of theories based only on what can be dug up and thus I begin with the text that, for good or ill, Christians call Holy Scripture.
The Nature of the Text
We primarily deal with text that we find, to in some way, call scripture. The word scripture means that the text “is ‘authority’ for the common life of the Christian community.”2 And in as much scripture is authoritative for the community, “these texts are the church’s scripture”, and so this text is formative for the community, for the church – the community of faith.3 On another note, the use of the word scripture denotes “some kind of ‘wholeness” or canon.4 Thus, to call the biblical text scripture, is to say that the Bible is in some form an authoritative canon for the life of the community of faith.
As the Bible is a text, it is inherently genre specific, and best understood as a text with multiple genres – ranging from narrative, to poetic, to letter/epistle. Thus, whether reading or analyzing, it is vital to understand what genre the passage lies within; however, genre is a broad term that indicates a more detailed idea of structure like: introductions and closings, narration, story order, poetic devices (i.e. inclusio, repetition, chiasm, etc.), argumentative examples, word choice, how Paul is not writing a systematic theology and so forth. Simply put, analysis of the text as a text is incredibly important for me and, from what I can determine, is a rich tradition within the hermeneutical world and has produced: structuralism, post-structuralism, narrative criticism, rhetorical criticism, and canonical criticism to name a few.
Author, Text and Audience
Interestingly, textual criticism has run into rough waters with the advent of deconstructionism advocated by Jacques Derrida.5 Although there is a perceived demise of platonic language theory, I have found a haven within Speech-Act language theory – a theory that asserts both the author and the audience in relation to meaning are problematic, but the text does maintain meaning. This is to say that the author is inaccessible, but also on the other hand, the audience is not free to create meaning without the voice of the text; instead, the text itself retains meaning and is able to communicate meaning through clues like structure.
Elements of Interpretive Methodology from Class
Me in Relationship to Theories Presented in Class:
A great deal of the interpretive methodologies introduced, while not particularly new to me, were generally attractive to me. On the theme of liberation, I found the post-colonial, liberationist and (for lack of a better term) political-imperial criticism to be fairly interesting, if not convincing. A few summers ago I was listening to a number of recorded N. T. Wright lectures and that probably was the first time I saw the “Lord’s prayer” in a new light – a liberative light – that envisioned and cried out for the heavenly kingdom breaking into the present and against the imperial and false powers, which in that day was Rome. Even I, who am probably more on the conservative side at Union, has found a liberative reading of the Bible from a conservative, Anglican bishop. Also, I think in this context of America’s rule, I can move towards privileging a liberative reading of the Bible while still holding to my current core methodology; I see no reason why liberative readings (advocacy criticism) cannot join and mix with my current interpretive method and be more informative and compelling than a conservative, white, male, Anglican bishop. The result of the mixing would be an even richer and productive methodology for answering the true problems of the current world.
As one can probably tell, I am whole-heartedly for a communitarian hermeneutic and that it is not simply scripture alone, but also the local and universal community of faith that reads and interprets the text together. As far as redactionists, I appreciate the personal treatment given to each section of the text, be it story or sayings, however, redactionists can tend to lose the structure when they look too individually; they can lose the forest for the tree. Thus I prefer the canonical criticism approach that maintains that there is a theological/thematic center to each book and attempts to find the same for the entire Bible. As far as psycho-analytic criticism goes, I am hesitant when they attempt to characterize the author whom I do not think we can know, although I suppose an analysis of the tendencies in the text would prove interesting and likewise for the lens that the audience brings to the text. It is vital in my opinion to scrutinize the assumptions that the audience brings to the text; assumptions govern the types of questions the audience will ask and thus dictate the answers and, in the end, the theology supposedly derived from the text.
Three Theories from Class in Conversation with My Methodology:
Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza (Feminist)
A few years ago I would have been alarmed by feminist hermeneutics, for I was just coming from a house that had a mother who read Paul’s subordination to mean that a wife ought to submit to the husband in a conservative fashion (and she still does). Today my stance is much different, though I am still relatively new to it. At first glance I am worried by looking at a Canon within the Canon – my knee jerk reaction is that one book ought not to be subordinated to another book for no book is a second class citizen – however, I quickly realized that there is always a Canon within the Canon.6 With texts that were written in another context, and not always to us who is an audience 2,000 years later, we naturally drop all sorts of sayings and notions, no matter how literal one might pride themselves in being.
On this basis I have begun to make my peace with the hermeneutic of suspicion. When I came to Union, the view about the text seemed to say the Bible was helpful, but quickly the text turned to something largely distrusted, negative and harmful. It seemed as if the book in front of me transformed into a monster that was grabbing for my throat; I finally saw how truly the Bible could be oppressive. I called myself an egalitarian at Bible college and chided the hierarchical John Piper and Wayne Grudemn fans, but I had yet to really see the frustration from oppression – the women at the school either accepted hierarchy or rarely let out their frustration it seemed (or perhaps I just missed it). It is odd how suppression, in the guise of obedience, eliminates the reality of experience.
First and foremost I think we ought to take Paul seriously, and when we do so, we might encounter patriarchy, but we also encounter a Paul who seems to lead us towards a direction of subversion. It seems to me that Paul might have told people to stay in their place in the secular world (so as to be Christ), but he also told those whom the people are submitting to, to be submitters also. I do not think it a fluke that within the early church both women and slaves had a space to be human and free because the structures of the world were turned upside down. Paul could have been a chauvinist, or the text seems to reflect the patriarchal time in which it was written, and we should take those negatives seriously to see the humanity in the writings,7 but we should also notice that sometimes in the same breath the text moves towards freedom. Perhaps seeing a flawed text moving towards the suffering and risen eschatological kingdom is the best thing ever for those 2,000 years later who are doing the same thing within the same community of faith.
Vincent L. Wimbush ("Darkly")
Similar to feminist criticism, the African American hermeneutic that speaks about the African American experience and church approaches the text with a heremeneutic of suspicion; however, Wimbush is not speaking about gender, but race. Wimbush seeks to show theology the African American lens so to break white theologians out of their incorrectly narrow theology – a theology that sees only the white person, for it envisions a white Jesus.8 This idea is certainly nothing new after taking Prof. Cone’s systematic class last semester, nevertheless it is still powerful every time it is used for theology still seems to exist to some degree within whiteness.
However I wonder what happens when one enters into the church – the community of faith. Does this change how we see race or gender? Certainly oppression is not sanctioned, however, what happens once within the community? I have recently encountered an essay by J. Kameron Carter of Duke Divinity School titled “Christology, or Redeeming Whiteness: A Response to James Perkinson’s Appropriation of Black Theology.”9 Certainly there is the agreement to “call the white church to a deeper faithfulness to its Lord” and that Lord’s power instead of the power of whiteness; however, liturgy, and in particular baptism, is then what?10 Carter instead understands baptism as “induction into a different mode of being in the world, one that surpasses the mode of being whose nodal points are hegemonic and counterhegemonic.”11 Best understood, the induction into the community through baptism “involves handing oneself over to God in Christ so as to receive oneself back as a gift… [and thus] to receive Christ himself” on Christ’s terms and “mission” which moves from Martin Buber’s and James Cone’s use of I-Thou and into a political body in which exists a “different way of being.”12 I bring Carter’s essay up because itself has come up in discussions I have had with others on the topic of Black Liberation theology and this essay is already in dialogue with Cone inside my head, although it is unresolved. This is the question that chases after me now, now that I have been sensitized toward racism in theology.
Historical-Critical
Historical-criticism is something I appreciate, but am largely skeptical of. I disagree with the fundamental precept that we will actually know the author of the text.13 The author to Job is indeterminable, much less when the text was written, and while many books within the New Testament are certainly closer to our time than Job, the historical author seems still beyond our reach because of Derrida and my own experience of history. One of my majors in undergrad was a history major and I wrote a thesis that involved both primary and secondary sources around a rather unknown but controversial topic.14 Through my experience I discovered the utter reliance a historian has the texts and the baggage that comes with the texts, and I began to wonder how far history can inform humanity – certainly no more than concretely than, “it was probably like this from what we can determine at this time.” Ironically, history can only speak to what it has dug up and analyzed at that time, rather than stating for once what life was like; the past is always under construction and revision.
Another concern for me is those who use history, but do not have the adequate background. For instance, I have seen, in both the pulpit and the class room, the speaker who gives too much weight to one theory, without mentioning the other theories that are equally viable, and thus the speaker incorrectly privileges the theory to look like fact – I have seen Christians do terrible history, committing moves that the historical community would laugh at, and I want to avoid the disinformation and embarrassment. Likewise, I also want to avoid elevating the privileged theory to canonical status (one might call this midrashing with history), despite how unpopular it might be here at Union. We are Christians who have a text we call scripture and we ought to deal with it as such.
I have also lately become aware of a possible problem concerning the reliance on history for theology through Jürgen Moltmann’s chapter on the nature of history in his book Theology of Hope.15 His critique about history as a philosophy of crisis seems insightful concerning many schools of history. While Moltmann’s argument may or may not have aged well and has been adequately responded to, I am still concerned that the presumptions by current philosophical history (though at least excluding the Marxist historians) can, without examination, shape theology towards the French revolution instead of the cross and resurrection.
Despite all the negativity and urge to separate the categories of theology and history, there is within me a sympathy for history and certainly a few concessions. Without the study of the past, there would be no text – Greek would be gibberish. Even for the literary person who wants to avoid historical-criticism because of the language theory critique, the translation of a text is indebted to the study of languages; without an understanding of word meaning amongst various languages of the time like Syriac and Coptic, Greek would be indecipherable.
Also, I find interesting what history does have to say. I think I have the background to envision what history is actually saying (which is always less than we think) and therefore determining what is helpful that history claims. However, I still handle history as if it is apocrypha (though I still handle it) insomuch that it is outside of the canon, because it is, and therefore also outside of the community of faith’s interpretation.
_______________
1. This church, The Church of the Servant King, is part of the “New Monastic Movement” and is committed to the church as community. They have also been largely informed by recent ecclesial writings, particularly Stanley Hauewas. The Hauerwas Reader, edited by John Berkman and Michael Carwright (Durham: Duke University, 2002), 384-385. A list of what the church is and does: charity/hospitality; valuing both the married and single equally; fiscal responsibility and leveraging of resources for the needs of people; living simply; racially diverse; inclusion of all ages; resisting the Kingdom of Evil; and the list goes on.
2. The Uses of Scripture in Recent Theology by David H. Kelsey (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1975) 89.
3. Ibid., 89.
4. Ibid., 89.
5. Is There A Meaning In this Text? by Kevin Vanhoozer (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1998).
6. In Memory of Her: A Feminist Theological Reconstruction of Christian Origins by Elisabeth Schussler Fiorenza, (New York: Crossroad, 1994), 14.
7. Ibid., 18.
8. “Reading Darkness, Reading Scriptures” in African Americans and The Bible: Sacred Texts and Social Textures by Vincent L. Wimbush (New York: Continuum), 8-9.
9. “Christology, or Redeeming Whiteness: A Response to James Perkinson’s Appropriation of Black Theology” by J. Kameron Carter, Theology Today, 60, number 4, January 2004.
10. Ibid., 526.
11. Ibid., 537.
12. Ibid., 538.
13. An Introduction to the New Testament by Raymond E. Brown (New York: Doubleday, 1997), 35.
14. Titled: “Truth, Dare, and Death: Epistemological Conflict Between Quakers and Puritans in Boston, Massachusetts from 1656-1661.”
15. Theology of Hope by Jürgen Moltmann (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), 261. Although, perhaps I would do well to review one of the books for my Historiography class, History in Crisis? by Norman J. Wilson. This paragraph is meant to speak to a concern and question that has recently popped up within the last week in relation to other classes, rather than to give an answer.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
The Church and Race Part 3: Trinitarian Solidarity
I am excited to hear that at my undergrad, Multnomah Bible College, Dr. John Perkins is giving lectures. Coming to Union last semester was dramatically different to say the least (though it was something I was looking for) and in that difference I found myself reading and listening to critiques, some solid and others flimsy. Here following is part three of three responsorial writings to three books I read for Social Ethics as Social Criticism dealing with race, as I presume some of Multnomah is going through too.
Part 3 – The Solidarity of Others in a Divided World: A Postmodern Theology after Postmodernism, by Anselm Min (New York: T&T Clark 2004).
For the most part, I liked this book. Before reading the book, I had never encountered Emmanuel Levinas and only had a decent working knowledge of Jacques Derrida; however, Anselm Min wrote The Solidarity of Others in a Divided World in such a clear and readable fashion that my use of reference materials were minimal. Certainly Min’s language was a bit different than what I am used to, but, after a short time, his language seemed like second nature and in fact, maybe even a better way of describing the universal – totality.
In the past few years, I have discovered Trinitarian theologians, like Colin Gunton, and even more recently, the suffering, Trinitarian Christology of Moltmann. With this in mind, it seems obvious I would like this book, but aside from the prolific use of Moltmann (and critique), I found that the author addressed a topic that has literally been on my mind for years – “the oddity of the Holy Spirit” (109). The social nature of the Trinity is clear, after all the words Father and Son are relational terms of identity; however, the Holy Spirit seems to lack a similar relational name. Min answers well the question with verse after verse from the Bible and finally concluding with the selfless nature of the Spirit and the role the Spirit plays as the one “who actualizes the full potentialities of the model” – a relator for others (118, 121, 125).
I found it a wonderful stroke to ground solidarity as a reflection of the social God and inherently within the Trinitarian framework – to the Christ of God by way of the cohesive Spirit. Granted much of what Min is saying is not necessarily new because he grounds so much in Moltmann, but the way Min says it is new for it is geared towards the first steps of communion – solidarity – as the next step for theology. Also, Min is talking ecclesiology throughout his book when he says solidarity, and that the church, or better said the body of Christ, finds not only unity in the past and future acts of the suffering, resurrected Christ, but also in the now through the Holy Spirit.
Another chapter in the book that delighted me was “Solidarity of Others in the Body of Christ.” I have found this particular metaphor of the body of Christ to be particularly rich and vivid. I was thrilled that Min covered the variety of subjects that the metaphor addresses and I know it will be a reference in the future merely because of its brevity and clarity.
However, I am unsure as to the success that Min achieves when addressing pluralism. I myself am undecided on the extent for Christianity and pluralism. The body of Christ seems a great metaphor for explaining Christianity’s identity in the world where it interacts with religions, but as Min notes, the metaphor is at least partially exclusive (150). I know some classmates will object, but if the church (Christianity) does not draw its identity from Christ, what then makes it Christian? I think Min makes a good point, that within a pluralistic world, being Christian does not mean one does not have boundaries; rather that, Christianity confesses its own boundaries, enters into sensitive dialogue with other religions and finds commonality from which to work together (150, 174, 175).
Part 3 – The Solidarity of Others in a Divided World: A Postmodern Theology after Postmodernism, by Anselm Min (New York: T&T Clark 2004).
For the most part, I liked this book. Before reading the book, I had never encountered Emmanuel Levinas and only had a decent working knowledge of Jacques Derrida; however, Anselm Min wrote The Solidarity of Others in a Divided World in such a clear and readable fashion that my use of reference materials were minimal. Certainly Min’s language was a bit different than what I am used to, but, after a short time, his language seemed like second nature and in fact, maybe even a better way of describing the universal – totality.
In the past few years, I have discovered Trinitarian theologians, like Colin Gunton, and even more recently, the suffering, Trinitarian Christology of Moltmann. With this in mind, it seems obvious I would like this book, but aside from the prolific use of Moltmann (and critique), I found that the author addressed a topic that has literally been on my mind for years – “the oddity of the Holy Spirit” (109). The social nature of the Trinity is clear, after all the words Father and Son are relational terms of identity; however, the Holy Spirit seems to lack a similar relational name. Min answers well the question with verse after verse from the Bible and finally concluding with the selfless nature of the Spirit and the role the Spirit plays as the one “who actualizes the full potentialities of the model” – a relator for others (118, 121, 125).
I found it a wonderful stroke to ground solidarity as a reflection of the social God and inherently within the Trinitarian framework – to the Christ of God by way of the cohesive Spirit. Granted much of what Min is saying is not necessarily new because he grounds so much in Moltmann, but the way Min says it is new for it is geared towards the first steps of communion – solidarity – as the next step for theology. Also, Min is talking ecclesiology throughout his book when he says solidarity, and that the church, or better said the body of Christ, finds not only unity in the past and future acts of the suffering, resurrected Christ, but also in the now through the Holy Spirit.
Another chapter in the book that delighted me was “Solidarity of Others in the Body of Christ.” I have found this particular metaphor of the body of Christ to be particularly rich and vivid. I was thrilled that Min covered the variety of subjects that the metaphor addresses and I know it will be a reference in the future merely because of its brevity and clarity.
However, I am unsure as to the success that Min achieves when addressing pluralism. I myself am undecided on the extent for Christianity and pluralism. The body of Christ seems a great metaphor for explaining Christianity’s identity in the world where it interacts with religions, but as Min notes, the metaphor is at least partially exclusive (150). I know some classmates will object, but if the church (Christianity) does not draw its identity from Christ, what then makes it Christian? I think Min makes a good point, that within a pluralistic world, being Christian does not mean one does not have boundaries; rather that, Christianity confesses its own boundaries, enters into sensitive dialogue with other religions and finds commonality from which to work together (150, 174, 175).
The Church and Race Part 2: Proper Liturgy Only When in Diversity
I am excited to hear that at my undergrad, Multnomah Bible College, Dr. John Perkins is giving lectures. Coming to Union last semester was dramatically different to say the least (though it was something I was looking for) and in that difference I found myself reading and listening to critiques, some solid and others flimsy. Here following is part two of three responsorial writings to three books I read for Social Ethics as Social Criticism dealing with race, as I presume some of Multnomah is going through too.
Part 2 – Disruptive Christian Ethics: When Racism and Women’s Lives Matter, by Traci C. West (Louisville: Westminster Press, 2006).
I was particularly interested with the chapter on liturgy. Having read Theopolitical Imagination (I am sorry if I am beginning to sound like a broken record), I was looking in West’s chapter on liturgy specifically for a treatment on the Eucharist. Cavanaugh, in my opinion, writes wonderfully about the death of Rutilio Grande and the response of Archbishop Oscar Romero – a single mass (121-122). The Eucharist broke through economic barriers bringing together rich and poor. And so reading Disruptive Christian Ethics, I was excited to see that liturgy was included. I would have liked to have seen more from West on baptism and communion, but even with the limited treatment, I feel like she brought an important component of race to my thought, which I will tease out here.
Liturgy accomplishes multiple functions: personal reflection, a visible representation of the body of Christ, unity, and “recogniz[ing] and contest[ing] repressive cultural norms like white superiority” to name a few (112). For instance, the Eucharist: prompts personal reflection on the person and work of Jesus Christ; visibly depicts the body of Christ in both time and space before one’s eyes; brings to light the unity in the body of Christ (both visible and universal); and thus, in theory, portrays each Christian as a human being of equal worth and equal acceptance.
However, white dominance (117), or white isolation, breaks the tangible image of the body of Christ existing in the world. The universal body of Christ is made up of all types of people, of all skin colors, and for a local church to be racially dominated by whiteness creates a Eucharist that is fundamentally myopic and thus a poor misrepresentation of the Eucharist. The body and blood no longer visibly shows the breadth of the church, nor does it portray each Christian as equally accepted. The representation of only whiteness can only lead to personal reflection (a personal reflection that is probably inherently white too), unless the Christian is confronted by a church that looks like him/herself.
The specific liturgical form of the Eucharist in my church in Portland, Oregon is different from the norm and I think one of the most powerful ways I have ever encountered the church and subsequently the Eucharist. The way in which they give the elements is helpful in retaining a sense of equality and importance – they share it together, literally. Instead of getting in a line to individually receive the bread and drink, they circle around the drink (the bread has already been dispensed), pick up the cup, take it to another person, let them drink, and then give words of encouragement or solidarity. They do this over and over again, making sure no one is left out and that we each gave to those whom we individually sought to affirm. Across racial lines (and there are multiple racial lines), this congregation personally ministers to itself, and in my mind, truly fulfilling the function of the Eucharist ritual.
Part 2 – Disruptive Christian Ethics: When Racism and Women’s Lives Matter, by Traci C. West (Louisville: Westminster Press, 2006).
I was particularly interested with the chapter on liturgy. Having read Theopolitical Imagination (I am sorry if I am beginning to sound like a broken record), I was looking in West’s chapter on liturgy specifically for a treatment on the Eucharist. Cavanaugh, in my opinion, writes wonderfully about the death of Rutilio Grande and the response of Archbishop Oscar Romero – a single mass (121-122). The Eucharist broke through economic barriers bringing together rich and poor. And so reading Disruptive Christian Ethics, I was excited to see that liturgy was included. I would have liked to have seen more from West on baptism and communion, but even with the limited treatment, I feel like she brought an important component of race to my thought, which I will tease out here.
Liturgy accomplishes multiple functions: personal reflection, a visible representation of the body of Christ, unity, and “recogniz[ing] and contest[ing] repressive cultural norms like white superiority” to name a few (112). For instance, the Eucharist: prompts personal reflection on the person and work of Jesus Christ; visibly depicts the body of Christ in both time and space before one’s eyes; brings to light the unity in the body of Christ (both visible and universal); and thus, in theory, portrays each Christian as a human being of equal worth and equal acceptance.
However, white dominance (117), or white isolation, breaks the tangible image of the body of Christ existing in the world. The universal body of Christ is made up of all types of people, of all skin colors, and for a local church to be racially dominated by whiteness creates a Eucharist that is fundamentally myopic and thus a poor misrepresentation of the Eucharist. The body and blood no longer visibly shows the breadth of the church, nor does it portray each Christian as equally accepted. The representation of only whiteness can only lead to personal reflection (a personal reflection that is probably inherently white too), unless the Christian is confronted by a church that looks like him/herself.
The specific liturgical form of the Eucharist in my church in Portland, Oregon is different from the norm and I think one of the most powerful ways I have ever encountered the church and subsequently the Eucharist. The way in which they give the elements is helpful in retaining a sense of equality and importance – they share it together, literally. Instead of getting in a line to individually receive the bread and drink, they circle around the drink (the bread has already been dispensed), pick up the cup, take it to another person, let them drink, and then give words of encouragement or solidarity. They do this over and over again, making sure no one is left out and that we each gave to those whom we individually sought to affirm. Across racial lines (and there are multiple racial lines), this congregation personally ministers to itself, and in my mind, truly fulfilling the function of the Eucharist ritual.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)