In a post called “Antidotes to Contemporary Stupefaction,” Doug Groothuis lists #9 as:

See a worthwhile film and then talk about it with a group of people. Don’t use the word “awesome.”

Well, forgive me Doug but The Dark Knight was awesome. In the spirit of Doug, discuss. Who’s seen it? Let big Ebert lead the way.

I can really see Ledger getting an Oscar for this. He played Joker the way Joker was always meant to be played. Sorry Jack.

I thought that Andrew’s quote about dying for the phone company was amusing. The part about it being a “repository for sacred values” also got me thinking. National or ethnic identity (and that has been our basis for states in the past 150 years or so) is often a sort of religion. I think you know what I’m talking about, all the special reverence for flags or other special totems, the hagiographic accounts of the lives of key national figures. The idea of a civic religion is still alive and well - it just goes by other names these days.

Now many countries - from Serbia to the United States - have managed to fuse their national identity with the defence of Christianity thus allowing them to feel that the celebration of their country’s (providential) existence is an act harmonious with Christianity. Whether that is acutally the case is doubtful, the bible encourages obeying those in charge (which is often just pragmatic advice) but it is not where you get the whole dulci et decorum est pro patria mori thing though.

Let me put this another way: None of our ethnic or national groupings are any more important than those of the Scythians, the Visigoths, the Picts, the Carthaginians, the Hittites or all the other groups that have long dissolved into other gene pools. Why should there be a Canada? Or a United States? Or any other country?

While this discussion has been going on, I have been continuing to ponder whether the OT required the saints to love their enemies or not.

Recently I have started to wonder if I have rightly understood what Jesus was responding to.

Matthew 5:38-48, Jesus commands about non-resistance and love of enemy, have a direct parallel in Luke 6:27-36, except that they are more mixed together. And further, in Romans 12:14-21, Paul further makes these comments: “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse… . Never pay back evil for evil to anyone… Never take your own revenge, beloved, but leave room for the wrath of God, for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay,’ says the Lord. ‘But if your enemy is hungry, feed him, and if he is thirsty, give him a drink; for in so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.’ Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

Verse 20 (”But if…”) is a quotation of Proverbs 25:21-22; further, it seems like the entire command to “not resist”, “turn the other cheek” and “love your enemies” is clearly related to this proverb, and could conceivably be reasonably deduced from it. Beyond that, just about every line from Romans 12:14-21 (including the verses I omitted) has clear parallels in Proverbs.

This gives a strong argument towards a non-strict-pacifist reading of the Sermon on the Mount.

Further “circumstantial” evidence is this: Matthew 5:17-20 at least give the prima facie indication that Jesus is not trying to substantially modify the law, though it is not obvious exactly how far “I came not to destroy, but to fulfill” can be stretched, given other considerations about how much Jesus did modify the law, as I mentioned in a previous post. In addition, there are reasonable readings of the main “but I say unto you’s” in the Sermon which could see them as adding no substantial proscriptions that were not already in the law: murder/hatred, adultery/lust (Job 31, Proverbs 6:24, Exodus 20:17), divorce, oaths (e.g., Ecclesiastes 5:1-7; and note, the NT seems approve of some oaths in other places, like in Paul’s epistles), and then finally, non-resistance and love of enemies, which I have already mentioned. He concludes this section, once again, with an allusion to the OT, Leviticus 19:2: “You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy,” (which itself is followed by several commands about leaving gleanings for the poor, and being honest, fair, and peaceful, justifying both Matthew and Luke’s versions of it).

(It should be noted, too, that the wisdom tradition of Israel saw itself to be based on the law, so Proverbs, Ecclesiastes and Job are in fact inspired commentary on what the Law itself teaches; e.g., Proverbs 30:5-6, Ecclesiastes 12:13.)

As well, while I think my reading of Romans 13 is possible, I also think a reading which reads ethical approval from God into the state is possible.

On the other hand, the things I have said about the historical context of Jesus, about Jesus’ attitude toward the state, and about the powers, still remain. Thus I am not sure where to go from here.

Some initial thoughts:

It still seems that Jesus intended his non-resistance/suffering-service to be his political response to other political movements, as I have mentioned before. Further, there is nothing in the NT that explicitly says Christians can be violent; any permission of such activity *for Christians* must be inferred. As well, it does seem like it is a characteristic of the age of the kingdom that violence would be reduced and eliminated (if you’re a postmillennialist, at least).

This might leave me back with something like Yoder or Doug Jones’ position: it is wrong for Christians to use violence, even as servants of the state (which also finds a parallel in early church attitudes toward the empire), and it is something Christians should be working to eliminate (even on the part of the state), while recognizing that it is not always wrong for the state to use it. This is similar to parts of the Anabaptist tradition which had a two-tier ethic, an “ethic of perfection” for the church and another for those outside of it. It is also similar to Jim Ingram’s position on economics that I described elsewhere on this blog.

I’ve recently been getting into William Cavanaugh’s work; everything he writes seems to be incredibly perceptive. Here’s a quote from his essay, “Killing for the Telephone Company: Why the Nation-State is Not the Keeper of the Common Good,” Modern Theology 20, no. 2 (2004): 263.

Alasdair MacIntyre alludes to this dual aspect of the nation-state in the following memorable quote:

The modern nation-state, in whatever guise, is a dangerous and unmanageable institution, presenting itself on the one hand as a bureaucratic supplier of goods and services, which is always about to, but never actually does, give its clients value for money, and on the other as a repository of sacred values, which from time to time invites one to lay down one’s life on its behalf… [I]it is like being asked to die for the telephone company.

MacIntyre thinks that the nation-state can and does promote certain goods of order, but he also contends that it is incapable of promoting the common good. Integral to the political common good is a distributions of goods that reflect a common mind arrived at by rational deliberation. Rationaly in turn depends upon recognition of our fundamental dependence on one another. According to MacIntyre, the nation-state is an arena of bargaining amongst different group interests. In the absence of any generally agreed rational standard to adjudicate among such interests, decisions on the distribution of goods are made on the basis of power, which is most often directly related ot access to capital. The sheer size of the nation-state precludes genuine rational deliberation; deliberation is carred on by a political elite of lawyers, lobbyists, and other professionals. For the same reasion, the unitive community that the idea of a nation offers is an illusion. The nation-state is not a genuine community, a functioning rational collectivity whose bonds make possible “the virtues of acknowledged dependence” necessary for the common good. As MacIntyre says, “the shared public goods of the modern nation-state are not the common goods of a genuine nation-wide community and, when the nation-state masquerades as the guardian of such a common good, the outcome is bound to be either ludicrous or disastrous or both.

Ron is on to something here. I’m all for doing something for Africa, but I get what he’s saying about the fetishization of trendy causes too.

This essay by Douglas Jones is one of the few essays I re-read on a regular basis. It consistently challenges me in my view of God.

The most recent time around, I realized that it is one of the most profound answers to the problem of evil I have ever read.

Abraham vs. Job

…

For all the legitimate praise Job deserves (James 5:11), he was a pietist. His counselors were even worse pietists, the mechanistic variety. Doubly obnoxious. His wife was worse. She was a sentimentalist: “curse God and die.” She resented the life given to them. Job stood at the center of a huge play, just like Abraham did. The Lord could have been straight with Job, but instead He took the crooked, dangerous path again. He didn’t tell Job he was an actor in a play within a play. Job should have realized on his own. Death began to rain down on Job. The Lord took Job down into the wine cellar, chained him in, and started piling block upon block. To his credit, Job didn’t respond like his wife, but he also didn’t respond like Abraham. Job was righteous, but not mature. He “feared God and shunned evil,” but that’s not enough. He didn’t know the God who plays with knives.

We often read the closing chapters of Job as a massive intellectual power play. We think of it as God pulling rank on Job. You, Job, are nothing, and I am huge and sovereign and Egyptian. Do not raise any questions against me. But that doesn’t fit with Yahweh’s actual answers. Why would God argue that storks are kind and ostriches stupid to prove His sovereignty? We’re actually told that Job had mastered his catechism on sovereignty; he “feared God.” Job did lack understanding, but he didn’t have to be convinced that the Lord knew more and was intellectually superior. That was a given.

But pietists like Job resist the dangerousness of God. They don’t love His style. They merely “shun evil.” That’s the lazy trait of pietists everywhere. It’s a good trait, but only a first step. You have to love the lion kill, too. You have to love eagles feasting on blood and horses running for war. That’s God’s style also. Job could never have passed Abraham’s test.

Read the whole thing. I guarantee it will force you to think.

I got married yesterday. It was fantastic. Moved me beyond words. There were some minor glitches but not enough to spoil the day.

On the topic of glitches my groomsmen decided to turn their speeches into a Spike TV Roast. My large head got some good mileage from all but one of my groomsmen.

So my wife took her pez dispenser for a husband out to Chapter’s and I picked up a book by an author recommended by Eugene Peterson, Rex Stout. Here’s a description of the main character, Nero Wolfe, on page 2 of Fer-De-Lance:

Wolfe lifted his head. I mention that, because his head was so big that lifting it struck you as being quite a job. It was probably really bigger than it looked, for the rest of him was so huge that any head on top of it but his own would have escaped your notice entirely.

So, looks like I’ve got some growing into my head to do. Two dinners tonight dear.

Why pick Rex Stout the mystery writer for some summer reading? Peterson gives these reasons in his Take up and read: Spiritual reading: An annotated list:

Nero Wolfe, the fat detective featured in the numerous Rex Stout murder mysteries, is not a clergyman, but for thirty years I have amused myself and some of my friends by reading him as a parable of the Christian contemplative presence in the world. The popular imagination, dulled by contemporaneity, sees nothing in the Nero Wolfe stories but detection. But Stout has written a body of work every bit as theologically perspicuous as Swift with the result that he hits the best-seller lists as a clever and resourceful detective novelist. To his financial benefit, of course, but still, for a serious writer to be misunderstood so completely must be humiliating no matter what the bank balance. But once the theological intent is suggested, the barrest sleuthing quickly discerns Nero Wolfe as a type of the church’s presence in the world. The most evident thing about him, his body, provides an analogue to the Church. His vast bulk is evidence of his “weight,” recalling the etymology of the biblical “glory.” More than anything else he is there, visibly. He must be reckoned with. He is corpulent or nothing. And the Church is the body of Christ. Along with an insistence on bodily presence there is a corresponding obervation that there is nothing attractive about that body. His body is subject to calumny and jokes. His genius is in his mind and his style. He does not fawn before customers , nor seek “contacts” (a word, incidentally that he would never use. He once was found ripping apart a dictionary, page by page, and burning it because it legitimized “contact” as a transitive verb). Wolfe will not leave his house on business, that is, accommodate himself to the world’s needs. He is a center around which the action revolves, a center of will and meditation, not a center of power or activity. He provides a paradigm for Christian spirituality that, while reticent and reserved, is there in vast presence when needed. He has no need for advertising techniques or public relations programs. He is there and needed because there is something wrong in the world (murder and other criminal extremes). He models a contemplative life which is not here to be loved, not designed to inspire affection. It is massive, central, important - a genius, in fact. But you don’t have to like it. In all this there is an implied criticism of a Church that has succumbed to public relations agents who have mounted Christian pulpits to make the church attractive - to personalize her, to sentimentalize her. Wolfe, as Christian ministry, levels a rebuke against that kind of thing. It follows that there is a disdain for defensive explanations - a Barthian avoidance of “apologetics” to a world that seeks assurance of its reliability and effectiveness. To that kind of inquiry he says: “I can give you my word, but I know what it’s worth and you don’t.” The spiritual life is cheapened when it tries to make itself acceptable in terms the world can understand.

Writing this blog on WordPress has been so enjoyable that I’ve shifted my other blog over to WordPress too. You can see it here. That blog tends to focus more narrowly on politics than this one.

It’s possible to read a great deal that is critical about globalisation - or more precisely, globalisation as it is currently carried out. Much of this writing though centres on things like poor working conditions, environmental concerns or things of that nature. The reply to that by people who embrace neo-liberal economic orthodoxy (i.e.: free-trade, montarism, deregulation, privatisation, et cetera) is that, yes, working conditions will be rotten and inequality will be rampant in the short term, but in the long term things will be fine, after all, we in the developed world once had sweatshops too.

This is where Ha-Joon Chang’s Bad Samaritans comes in. Chang’s thesis is that neo-liberal orthodoxy (as pushed by the WTO, IMF, and World Bank) is not only cruel, it doesn’t actually work. In a nutshell his argument is that countries in the developed world are free traders because they are economically prosperous and not that they are economically prosperous because they are free traders. Chang is a Cambridge economics prof and he lays out how every economic “miracle” country starting with the UK in the 18th and 19th centuries and continuing to China today was the result of careful state intervention, tariffs, and lack of respect for intellectual property - all things that are said to be deadly to developing economies today.

Chang is not anti-trade or some kind of luddite, he readily acknowledges that his own country - South Korea built itself on exports - but on its own terms in a way that neo-liberal international institutions insist is not feasible. This is to say that this is a very lucid critique of a particular set of policies that hold sway in many international institutions. It is not an indictment of free markets but of those that have an unlimited faith in the wonder-working power of free markets.

In honour of Keith’s nuptials tomorrow: