Half Past Noon

Just a narcissistic link to a post of mine at Theopol which has a remote chance of interesting my HPN co-conspirators: A theology of suburbs.

I attended Wheaton College’s N.T. Wright conference this past week, and had a great time visiting my old western suburban backyard. Wheaton put on a good show, with a great supporting cast to back up the imposing performances of the bishop from Durham. I only wish some of my Moscow friends could’ve joined me. After hanging out with a number of Canadian Reformed ministers over the long weekend, I began to slip “eh” onto the end of my increasingly Kuyperian-inflected sentences.

Somehow, I was unaware until a few days ago that another noteworthy conference was underway at the very same time down in Louisville: Together for the Gospel (T4G). Names such as Sproul, MacArthur, Duncan, Mohler, Piper, put together what I think may have been the first massively organized assembly of neo-Reformed figureheads. Over at Christianity Today, Brett McCracken writes about his experience last week attending both events. The whole review is worth a read. (McCracken is right to highlight Vanhoozer’s talk, which was one of the best parts of the weekend for me.)

For the T4G folks, protecting disputed doctrines against heresy is where good theology is born. Clear thinking comes from friction and protestation, from Hegelian dialectics (R.C. Sproul spoke on this), but not from compromise. The Patristic Fathers got it right whenever they were ironing out disputed doctrines and fighting against heresy, said Ligon Duncan in his talk. But on matters that were not disputed, he said, their thought sometimes got muddled up.

The exact opposite point was made at the Wheaton Conference by Kevin Vanhoozer, professor of systematic theology at Wheaton, who suggested that theologians like Wright (and, presumably Christians in general) are more often correct in matters they collectively affirm than in matters they dispute. This statement reflects the contrasting spirit of the Wheaton Conference as regards unity: It’s what we affirmthat matters. Are we on the same page on the core issues? Can we agree on the claims of the creeds? Yes? Then let’s hash out the details of theological minutia (which is definitely important) in a spirited, friendly debate as the people of God exercising the renewal of our minds (Romans 12:2).

In his sermon “Christian Charity,” Jonathan Edwards argues that Christian virtue should animate both private (voluntary) giving as well as legally-imposed public welfare. The two sources of poor relief need not be set at odds with each other (as some of his contemporaries were apparently suggesting). Further, the historical circumstances do not fundamentally alter this relationship; both 1st century Christians under unregenerate rule and 18th century New England Puritans have incentive to support both private and public poor relief. While the two sources may have different aims and modes of relief, they are not inherently rivals, even as private charity is preferred:

Nor do I suppose it was ever the design of the law, requiring the various towns to support their own poor, to cut off all occasion for Christian charity: nor is it fit there should be such a law. It is fit that the law should make provision for those that have no estates of their own; it is not fit that persons who are reduced to that extremity should be left to so precarious a source of supply as a voluntary charity. They are in extreme necessity of relief, and therefore it is fit that there should be something sure for them to depend on. But a voluntary charity in this corrupt world is an uncertain thing. Therefore the wisdom of the legislature did not think fit to leave those who are so reduced, upon such a precarious foundation for subsistence.

Frank knows that I’m reading Alasdair MacIntyre’s hefty (literally) book on rationality right now. Since I can’t claim him as a classmate anymore, I try to find other ways to involve him in my studies. A particular passage in MacIntyre caught my eye earlier this morning, and I decided to share it. (It really does have something to say about the antithesis, I promise. So it’s relevant to HPN.)

A hockey player in the closing seconds of a crucial game has an opportunity to pass to another member of his or her team better placed to score a needed goal. Necessarily, we may say, if he or she has perceived and judged the situation accurately, he or she must immediately pass. What is the force of this “necessarily” and this “must”? It exhibits the connection between the good of that person qua hockey player and member of that particular team and the action of passing, a connection such that were such a player not to pass, he or she must either have falsely denied that passing was for their good qua hockey player or have been guilty of inconsistency or have acted as one not caring for his or her good qua hockey player and member of that particular team. That is to say, we recognize the necessity and the immediacy of rational action by someone inhabiting a structured role in a context in which the goods of some systematic form of practice are unambiguously ordered. (Whose Justice? Which Rationality?, pp. 140-141)

You’re welcome.

Davey and I have been going back and forth on “antithesis”—hammering out what it means, trying to figure out if we agree or disagree (since we’re both prone to generalizing), and working towards a workable definition. Except that I hate definitions, so I keep protesting and asking for a story instead.

And now I have one.

It’s not by me, nor is it explicitly about antithesis. But I think it sheds some light on the topic and is worth the read. It’s titled “Dimensions,” and it’s in Alice Munro’s latest short story collection, Too Much Happiness. You can read the story here, on Google books.

If you’re interested in the topic, take a gander and see what you think. Does it shed any light? Or am I committing gross isogesis? You be the judge.

More on antithesis later. Stay tuned.

I didn’t have the patience to completely read the recent “Manhattan Declaration” in its entirety. Lazy, I know, but I’m not a theologian and was more interested to see who signed it than to understand every jot and tittle.

I’ve had several responses (some supportive, some not) forwarded to me. One of the most thought-provoking was from Professor John Stackhouse. I particularly liked this point:

3. The document gives no clear direction about what anyone is supposed to do once they have read it—besides sign it, I suppose. Is anyone now going to campaign for prolife positions any differently than he or she did before? Is anyone going to change his or her mind about homosexual marriage? Is anyone going to seek new legislation or, if the law swings against conservative Christians, engage in civil disobedience of some unspecified sort? Who knows? (HT: Garry Vanderveen)

The striking thing about previous church documents (the Creeds, Luther’s 95 Theses, the Westminster Confession) was their immediate practicality. The Nicene Creed, for example, was designed to distinguish between right and wrong worship of Christ. Luther’s Theses, though they began as an invitation to debate, ended up again distinguishing between true and false shepherding. And the Westminster Confession was designed to be a document for the edification and education of the church.

But what really is the Manhattan Declaration for? Speech can’t really be called speech unless it leads to discernible action and discernible change. Stackhouse is right to call this document a waste of time. Imagine the hungry that could have been fed, the pregnant teenagers that could have been counseled, or the lost souls that could have heard the Gospel with the time and resources expended in this document’s creation. To riff on Lewis, we’re content with defining the proper building code for mudcastles in slums when we should be inviting others to enjoy salt water and sunshine.

To make this personal, the more I’m faced with church responsibilities and church life, the more I realize how guilty I am of this in my everyday life. It’s hard and often not fun to talk to strangers at church, so I don’t. And I can admit this till I’m blue in the face, but what does it matter if tomorrow, I again go to church and leave without communing outside of my comfort zone? It’s not enough to feel guilty.

Father forgive us for our propensity to talk and our reluctance to get our hands dirty.

For discussion:

The Dutch Reformed idea of “the antithesis” is practically and theologically counter-productive. (Same goes for “worldview” thinking.)

I speak in the affirmative.

(Cross-posted at Theopol.)

After much speculation about its contents, the new papal encyclical, Caritas in Veritate, was released earlier today. You can read the full text here. I’m curious how orthodox capitalists like Michael Novak are going to respond to this text. My notes after a first read-through:

Benedict advances the argument that love and truth must be linked together as we pursue economic justice. In good Augustinian fashion, he writes: “All people feel the interior impulse to love authentically: love and truth never abandon them completely, because these are the vocation planted by God in the heart and mind of every human person. The search for love and truth is purified and liberated by Jesus Christ from the impoverishment that our humanity brings to it.”

Love, however, must be not emptied of truth, or it loses its power to transform: “Without truth, charity degenerates into sentimentality. Love becomes an empty shell, to be filled in an arbitrary way.”

When applied to our concept of economic justice, caritas in veritate must not be construed as some contradictory force to justice, since “justice is inseparable from charity.” Charity both supports justice, and also extends beyond earthly justice into future grace: “It strives to build the earthly city according to law and justice. On the other hand, charity transcends justice and completes it in the logic of giving and forgiving.” Our labors toward charity have a real effect on the earthly city, he argues, and help to build the common good even now in a fallen world.

Benedict follows this with a warning that technology and “relationships of utility” are not sureties for the preservation of the common good. The increasing globalization of the marketplace must be answered by “the potential of love that overcomes evil with good.” Utopian visions offer false promises of autonomy — false freedom. In answer to this messianic idea of progress, the Christian vision emphasizes the human element of vocation, which must encompass “the whole man and every man, [or] it is not true development.”

In his second chapter, Benedict suggests that the recent economic crisis has offered us a chance to pause and discern a “new vision for the future.” He points out that even as overall wealth continues to grow globally, inequality has marked our monetary progress:

Among those who sometimes fail to respect the human rights of workers are large multinational companies as well as local producers. International aid has often been diverted from its proper ends, through irresponsible actions both within the chain of donors and within that of the beneficiaries…. On the part of rich countries there is excessive zeal for protecting knowledge through an unduly rigid assertion of the right to intellectual property, especially in the field of health care. At the same time, in some poor countries, cultural models and social norms of behaviour persist which hinder the process of development.

Benedict returns to the themes of Catholic social teaching, emphasizing the need to protect the rights of common workers, the need for greater public involvement (perhaps contra the centralized State), and the re-centering of the interests of man over mammon (“the primary capital to be safeguarded and valued is man, the human person in his or her integrity”). Our concern for true human development should reveal itself in protecting basic human needs, including: access to food and water and the ability to secure a livelihood. We should guard against the moral problem of an ever increasing income disparity between the rich and the poor. In fact, Benedict argues, every economic decision is ultimately a moral decision. And as such, “justice must be applied to every phase of economic activity.”

All of this requires a “profoundly new way of understanding business enterprise.” The old order has fallen under its own weight. The prioritization of holders of capital over actual laborers has led to greed. We must work to re-center our values locally:

The so-called outsourcing of production can weaken the company’s sense of responsibility towards the stakeholders — namely the workers, the suppliers, the consumers, the natural environment and broader society — in favour of the shareholders, who are not tied to a specific geographical area and who therefore enjoy extraordinary mobility.

Businesses must be held morally and socially accountable. The common collaboration of the State and big business has disengaged the laborer from his labor. Instead, “every worker should have the chance to make his contribution knowing that in some way ‘he is working for himself.’”

In the following chapters, Benedict draws out both our responsibility to consider the natural (ecological) world, and the deeper human relationships across national and economic boundaries. We do not live in a zero-sum world. And the way to restore these charitable relationships with nature and our fellow men begins with a realization of the public nature of faith. Christians as citizens are uniquely motivated to work toward justice, since they have a transcendent allegiance to the world. Public life is a life of faith.

As the world grows smaller, globalization requires a Christian response. Benedict acknowledges that globalization needs an authority structure, but prefers the traditional Catholic idea of having it “organized in a subsidiary and stratified way,” rather than in a centralized bureaucracy. And as we re-prioritize the global common good, we must remember our less fortunate brothers: “development aid for poor countries must be considered a valid means of creating wealth for all.”

In his conclusion, Benedict calls for increased engagement with the political and economic order. Love motivates God’s people to “move beyond the limited and the ephemeral,” to work toward economic justice and the common good, even if the results are always less than we had hoped.

HT: CuteOverload

That is all. Carry on.

Imagine Chrysostom’s sermon delivered in the Hagia Sophia. The use of repetition makes me wonder how he might have originally delivered it. Did he shout, was he soft-spoken, or did he read it plainly and straightforward?

Is there anyone who is a devout lover of God?
Let them enjoy this beautiful bright festival!
Is there anyone who is a grateful servant?
Let them rejoice and enter into the joy of their Lord!

Are there any weary with fasting? 
Let them now receive their wages!
If any have toiled from the first hour, 
let them receive their due reward;
If any have come after the third hour, 
let him with gratitude join in the Feast!
And he that arrived after the sixth hour, 
let him not doubt; for he too shall sustain no loss.
And if any delayed until the ninth hour, 
let him not hesitate; but let him come too.
And he who arrived only at the eleventh hour, 
let him not be afraid by reason of his delay.

For the Lord is gracious and receives the last even as the first.
He gives rest to him that comes at the eleventh hour, 
as well as to him that toiled from the first.
To this one He gives, and upon another He bestows.
He accepts the works as He greets the endeavor.
The deed He honors and the intention He commends.

Let us all enter into the joy of the Lord! 
First and last alike receive your reward; 
rich and poor, rejoice together!
Sober and slothful, celebrate the day!

You that have kept the fast, and you that have not, 
rejoice today for the Table is richly laden!
Feast royally on it, the calf is a fatted one.
Let no one go away hungry. Partake, all, of the cup of faith.
Enjoy all the riches of His goodness!

Let no one grieve at his poverty, 
for the universal kingdom has been revealed.
Let no one mourn that he has fallen again and again; 
for forgiveness has risen from the grave.
Let no one fear death, for the Death of our Savior has set us free.
He has destroyed it by enduring it.

He destroyed Hades when He descended into it.
He put it into an uproar even as it tasted of His flesh.
Isaiah foretold this when he said,
“You, O Hell, have been troubled by encountering Him below.”

Hell was in an uproar because it was done away with.
It was in an uproar because it is mocked.
It was in an uproar, for it is destroyed.
It is in an uproar, for it is annihilated.
It is in an uproar, for it is now made captive.
Hell took a body, and discovered God. 
It took earth, and encountered Heaven.
It took what it saw, and was overcome by what it did not see.
O death, where is thy sting?
O Hades, where is thy victory?

Christ is Risen, and you, o death, are annihilated!
Christ is Risen, and the evil ones are cast down!
Christ is Risen, and the angels rejoice!
Christ is Risen, and life is liberated!
Christ is Risen, and the tomb is emptied of its dead;
for Christ having risen from the dead,
is become the first-fruits of those who have fallen asleep.

To Him be Glory and Power forever and ever. Amen!