Author Archives: Rob Harrison

The Dumbfounding

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(I’m just in a Margaret Avison mood all of a sudden, for whatever reason. For those not familiar with her work, she was a Canadian poet, whose Christian faith was a powerful force in her poetry. She died last July at the age of 89, having been lauded as one of Canada’s national treasures; the Globe and Mail rightly called her contribution to Canadian literature “incalculable.” This poem is the title piece of her second collection, which was the first one published after her conversion to Christianity in 1963. It seems an appropriate piece for the Easter season.)

The DumbfoundingWhen you walked here,
took skin, muscle, hair,
eyes, larynx, we
withheld all honor: “His house is clay,
how can he tell us of his far country?”

Your not familiar pace
in flesh, across the waves,
woke only our distrust.
Twice-torn we cried “A ghost”
and only on our planks counted you fast.

Dust wet with your spittle
cleared mortal trouble.
We called you a blasphemer,
a devil-tamer.

The evening you spoke of going away
we could not stay.
All legions massed. You had to wash, and rise,
alone, and face
out of the light, for us.

You died.
We said,
“The worst is true, our bliss
has come to this.”

When you were seen by men
in holy flesh again
we hoped so despairingly for such report
we closed their windpipes for it.

Now you have sought
and seek, in all our ways, all thoughts,
streets, musics—and we make of these a din
trying to lock you out, or in,
to be intent. And dying.

Yet you are
constant and sure,
the all-lovely, all-men’s way
to that far country.

Winning one, you again
all ways would begin
life: to make new
flesh, to empower
the weak in nature
to restore
or stay the sufferer;

lead through the garden to
trash, rubble, hill,
where, the outcast’s outcast, you
sound dark’s uttermost, strangely light-brimming, until
time be full.

Reason for optimism in Zimbabwe

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My thanks to everyone who has been praying for Zimbabwe (whether in response to my previous post or for any other reason)—it looks like God may be answering our prayers in the affirmative. According to the latest reports, Robert Mugabe and his aides are looking at the results and beginning to realize that accepting and admitting defeat is their only good option. Of course, they may resist that realization and refuse to do so—they may decide to fight to stay in power—but there’s reason to hope they won’t. There’s reason to hope. Keep praying.

April Fool!

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April Fool’s Day isn’t a Christian holiday, but the more I think about it, the more I think it ought to be. After all, while we tend to think of this as a day when people try to make fools of each other, it also reminds us of all the ways we make fools of ourselves, and the interesting fact that sometimes it’s the smartest people who are the biggest fools—both theologically quite important points. For instance, one of the smartest men who ever lived was the 17th-century English philosopher Francis Bacon; this is a man who was interested in everything, who invented modern scientific method, and who was gifted enough that some people think he wrote Shakespeare’s plays on the side. Bacon died stuffing snow into a chicken. Honest.

One afternoon in 1625, Bacon was watching a snowstorm and was struck by the wondrous notion that maybe snow could be used to preserve meat in the same way that salt was used. Determined to find out, he purchased a chicken from a nearby village, killed it, and then, standing outside in the snow, attempted to stuff the chicken full of snow to freeze it. The chicken never froze, but Bacon did.

In Bacon’s defense, of course, he was on to something there; it was the execution, not the idea, that was off. His foolishness came from the fact that he was too smart for his own good—he saw the possibilities, and didn’t stop to think about the downside. That’s often the way of it with us; which is why, as the saying goes, it’s not what we don’t know that hurts us, but what we do know that ain’t so. (I’ve seen that attributed, btw, to Will Rogers, Mark Twain, Artemus Ward, and Josh Billings; I wouldn’t presume to know who said it first.) As I’ve said before, the root of the problem is that we’re neither as smart nor as wise as we think we are; when we come up against true wisdom, the wisdom of God, we cannot understand it without his help, because it contradicts everything the world teaches us to think is wise. By the world’s standards, God is a fool, and his wisdom is folly.That’s why, as Dr. Stackhouse wrote during Holy Week, Easter is subversive. The crowds wanted Jesus to come along and take the world’s pretensions seriously, play along with them, and win on their terms; they wanted him to be a military and political messiah, a great liberator and conqueror, who would capitalize on his popularity to drive out the Romans and re-establish Israel as a political entity, as a nation among the nations. Instead, he confronted those pretensions and tore them down, exposing the emptiness behind them. Where the crowds identified Rome as their enemy and their salvation as overthrowing Roman rule, the enemy he set out to destroy and the salvation he would offer were very, very different. Indeed, what he did, he did as much for the people of Rome as for the people of Israel—and while that made him the king they needed, he wasn’t the king they wanted; and so, within a few short days, the crowds went from shouting “Hosanna!” to shouting “Crucify him!”Where the world celebrates those who climb the ladder of success, praises Jesus as long as he seems to be heading toward an earthly throne, and is even willing to follow him when it looks like a good career move, we’re called to praise and follow him on the road of thorns; where the world glories in money and power, we’re called to glory in the cross. Which is foolish, from any human perspective; what glory is there in all that pain and blood and death? But that’s the faith to which God calls us—not a Palm Sunday faith, that celebrates Jesus when he’s popular and we’re riding high and everything’s going well, then turns on him when he starts making people mad and the road starts to look rough, but an Easter faith: a faith that understands that it was precisely by his defeat that Jesus conquered, that such a shameful and scandalous moment as a criminal’s execution on a cross was indeed the moment of God’s greatest glory, and that it’s only by going through that death and coming out the other side that Jesus brought about our salvation. To the world, the idea that a triumphal procession would lead not to a throne, but to that, is pure foolishness; but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God for us, in which we glory.

The fallacy of diagnosis

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Bill over at The Thinklings has a truly excellent post titled “I’ve Identified the Problem and it’s You”, which I strongly encourage you to read, challenging a tendency he’s seen among Christians to broadly blame pretty much all Christians but themselves for whatever problem they happen to be complaining about. (I would note that in my experience, this sort of approach is equally common among non-Christians.)

What particularly struck me here, and where I think Bill has expressed himself with particular aptness, was his use of the word “identified.” In family systems theory—the application of general systems theory to human relational systems, following the work of Murray Bowen and Edwin Friedman—this is an important word. When the relationships between a group of people are broken—which is to say, when the system is dysfunctional—the system will tend to blame the problem on one person, to say it’s that person’s fault that things aren’t going right. This is a form of scapegoating as a way of offloading responsibility (“There’s nothing wrong with me, I’m fine; you just need to fix him!”), and the person on whom the blame is set is referred to as the “identified patient.” The term used for this is “diagnosis”: someone “diagnoses” the “patient” as having the problem, thereby implicitly asserting that everyone else is just fine.

In counseling, the key in responding to this sort of situation is to recognize that the diagnosis is in fact false, and that the problem rests not in one person (even if that person is the one showing the symptoms) but in the relational system as a whole. That’s not the easiest thing in the world to do, even when you can get all the members of the family or group together in one room; what Bill has identified, though, is considerably harder to address, since it’s so much more diffuse. Indeed, I’m not sure how to address it, except that (obviously) we must begin by naming and identifying the problem, as Bill so ably has. Beyond that, I’m not sure what can be done except to gently, patiently, graciously call people back to grace and humility, and to remind them that they, too, are sinners.

In light of that, I particularly like where Bill ends his post:

It breaks my heart because Christ died for the church, His Bride. And if someone is truly saved, they are part of the Bride and part of our family, even if they don’t measure up to your definition of cool, even if they don’t line up with your cultural tastes or ecclesiology, Even if they say things sometimes that embarass you. Even if they disappoint you. There is a way to go, in grace, to specific people in your family and work out your problems. But what Christ never gave us the option of doing was drawing our own lines in the sand to determine which of his children we’ll call “brother” and which we won’t.

This is an important truth, and something we really need to hear.

Further thoughts on prophecy and Jeremiah Wright

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The discussion with Daniel C. in the comments on the previous post started me thinking. The biblical prophets laid their lives on the line time after time after time because when the kings and other powerful people of their land were unrighteous, they confronted the wicked with the righteous anger of God, to their face, in the sharpest possible terms. One of the reasons I disparaged (in my old Presbyweb piece) the claims of Presbyterian liberals to be speaking prophetically is that there was no risk involved—they were merely aligning themselves with one group of powerful people against another in an interparty dispute, saying things which had been said many times before.

The same surely cannot be said of the Rev. Dr. Jeremiah Wright. Any government which would turn biochemical weapons against a group of its own citizens and plan atrocities to justify policy decisions—for such and no less is what he has alleged—would never allow anyone who exposed its activities to live, at least without divine intervention. These are the sorts of things, if true, that one might expect God to reveal to one of his prophets. If the Rev. Dr. Wright’s accusations are in fact prophetic revelations from God, then they’re justified. If not, then he’s a false prophet. Given that we know how AIDS entered this country, courtesy of Randy Shilts (who bears particular responsibility for publicizing the story of Gaëtan Dugas, the French-Canadian flight attendant who was one of those who brought the virus here from Africa), I’d say that test doesn’t look too good for Sen. Obama’s pastor.

At first blush, he would seem to look better on the test of boldness; certainly he pulls no punches in his language. Where he fails, however, is in his location. Jonah went (under protest, of course) to Nineveh; Jeremiah, Isaiah, Amos and many others went into the court of the king. True prophets, when they have a condemnation to announce, do so in the presence of the one whom they are condemning, setting aside all earthly safety, trusting God to get them out. (Or not, as the case may be; tradition has it that Manasseh had Isaiah sawed in half inside a hollow log.) Put another way, true prophets speak to “us.” The Rev. Dr. Wright, by contrast, denounced “them.” He failed the test.

There’s a deeper significance to this as well: denouncing “them” tells “us” that “we” are free to believe what we want to believe, both about ourselves and about “them”—and that’s not something God’s prophets do. Judgment begins in the house of God, and so that’s where his prophets begin: by challenging and rebuking us. Before they let us pronounce the judgment of God on our enemies, they call us to pronounce it on ourselves—to fall to our knees in repentance for our sin and to rise in humble awareness of our fallenness, and our desperate need for grace. In so doing, they bring us to a place where we would be just as happy to see the repentance of our enemies as their obliteration.

The problem with self-anointed prophets is they don’t stand in that place, because they don’t have that humility. As I wrote in 2005, to folks like that,

the rest of the world divides into two camps: the righteous (those who agree with me) and the unrighteous (those who don’t), which leaves only the question, “What fellowship is there between light and darkness? What agreement does Christ have with Belial?” There in a nutshell is the state of things . . . for too many folks, the presence of people who disagree with us, instead of serving as an opportunity for learning and self-correction, merely hardens us in our own positions, because “we” are light and “they” are darkness. This wouldn’t be a problem for someone whose life and beliefs were already 100% in accordance with the will of God, but that isn’t any of us; we all have areas where we need to grow, and beliefs (sometimes cherished ones) which are simply wrong, and we can’t afford to set those in stone. . . . [We] need to set aside this self-aggrandizing nonsense that we’re speaking “prophetically,” which sets us above those with whom we disagree, and learn instead to approach them in a spirit of humility and grace. Our motives and vision just aren’t pure enough to justify doing things any other way.

Speaking prophetically

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Three summers ago, in a burst of irritation at a few of my colleagues in the Presbytery of Denver, I wrote a Viewpoint article in Presbyweb titled, “Speaking Prophetically.” (If you’re not a subscriber to Presbyweb, you can also find the piece here.) At the time, I had had it up to my (receding) hairline with liberals claiming the “prophetic” mantle for what was, essentially, leftist boilerplate with a garnish of Christianese, and I felt the need to fire back. I wasn’t exactly stunned to find that no one changed their ways in response to my objection, but at least it made me feel better.Still, people haven’t changed their ways, and it does continue to irritate. The whole flap over the Rev. Dr. Jeremiah A. Wright Jr., though, takes the whole thing to a new and truly egregious level. More than a few writers have attempted to defend and excuse the Rev. Dr. Wright by calling him “prophetic,” and situating him in a supposed prophetic tradition in line with the likes of Frederick Douglass and the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Diana Butler Bass, in her post on Jim Wallis’ “God’s Politics” group blog, is typical:

Throughout the entire corpus, black Christian leaders leveled a devastating critique against their white brothers and sisters—accusing white Christians of maintaining “ease in Zion” while allowing black people to suffer injustice and oppression. . . .As MSNBC, CNN, and FOX endlessly play the tape of Rev. Wright’s “radical” sermons today, I do not hear the words of a “dangerous” preacher (at least any more dangerous than any preacher who takes the Gospel seriously!) No, I hear the long tradition that Jeremiah Wright has inherited from his ancestors. I hear prophetic critique. I hear Frederick Douglass. And, mostly, I hear the Gospel slant—I hear it from an angle that is not natural to me. It is good to hear that slant.

There are two problems with that—what we might call the historical and the theological problem. The historical problem is that the equation Jeremiah Wright = Frederick Douglass presumes another equation: 2008 America = 1858 America. It presumes that our country hasn’t changed at all in 150 years. And that just isn’t true. We are, no question, still an imperfect country—but on matters of skin color, however far we have yet to go, we’ve come a long way.The theological problem here is what concerns me more, however, because Dr. Bass’ idea of the gospel is really screwy at this point. When the Rev. Dr. Wright declaims, “God damn America! That’s in the Bible!” he’s right as Dr. Bass is right to point us to the fact, as Fr. Richard John Neuhaus also notes, that “Biblical prophets called down the judgment of God on their people,” and often in harsher terms than those used at Trinity UCC. But there is a profound, a deep and profound, difference between what he was saying and authentic biblical prophetic language. As Fr. Neuhaus continues,

They invoked such judgment in order to call the people to repentance. They spoke so harshly because they had such a high and loving estimate of a divine election betrayed. The Reverend Wright—in starkest contrast to, for instance, Martin Luther King Jr., whose death we mark next week—was not calling for America to live up to its high promise. He was pronouncing God’s judgment on a nation whose original and actual sins of racism are beyond compassion, repentance, or forgiveness. He apparently relishes the prospect of America’s damnation.

That is the key point that every other commentator I’ve seen has missed; that’s the point at which the Rev. Dr. Wright’s message unequivocally ceases to be gospel, indeed ceases to be in any real sense Christian, and becomes something else altogether—something very, very ugly. There was a discussion on The Thinklings a while back about the imprecatory psalms, where David and the other psalmists similarly aim harsh, violent language at their enemies; these are psalms not often read in most churches. As one of the commenters pointed out, however (probably Alan), there’s an interesting feature to most of these psalms: when David prays that God would destroy his enemies, he prays that God would do so either by slaughtering them or by bringing them to repentance. It’s that either/or that brings this sort of bitter prayer within the compass of a Jewish/Christian understanding of God. Without it, it’s nothing more than a pagan cry for vengeance.In light of that, I pray that someone who has pull with the Rev. Dr. Wright—perhaps Sen. Obama, who I can’t help thinking should have done this years ago—will draw him aside and call his attention to a couple passages from the Book he was supposed to be preaching from all these years:You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” But I say to you, Do not resist the one who is evil. But if anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also. And if anyone would sue you and take your tunic, let him have your cloak as well. And if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. Give to the one who begs from you, and do not refuse the one who would borrow from you. You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same?
You therefore must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.—Matthew 5:38-48 (ESV)Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities,
against the cosmic powers over this present darkness,
against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.—Ephesians 6:10-12 (ESV)

Bumper-sticker philosophy

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Driving in to church this evening for the Wednesday night stuff, I ended up behind a car (briefly) with a bumper sticker that read, “Question everything.” I thought, “Really? Everything? Does that include questioning questioning everything? Why question everything? Question it how? On what grounds? And if you question everything, what sort of answer should you expect to get?”

I was of course partly being snarky (to myself); but I do wonder, does that person really mean it? What would they think if you started questioning science? “Are you sure the theory behind the internal-combustion engine in your car is sound? Why should you trust that gravity will hold your tires on the road? Can you be certain that turning the wheel actually makes the car turn? On a different note, why do you believe in the theory of evolution? Is there really the evidence to support it? Can you be sure that the people who support it aren’t doing so from ulterior motives?” And so on, and so forth . . .

Then too, I saw recently, I don’t remember where, that someone (Richard Dawkins?) had propounded a set of “Ten Commandments for Atheists.” Leaving quite aside the question of why atheists would support having commandments in the first place, one of them was, “Question everything”; and yet, I know they don’t mean that, because on the evidence, they certainly don’t believe one should be commanded to question atheism. At least, Dr. Dawkins and his ilk tend to respond pretty sharply to those who do.

The truth of the matter is, no one ever means anything like “Question everything”; even René Descartes, who came the closest, didn’t get that far (nor, I think, did he want to). Most people, when they say “Question everything,” really mean something like this: “Let me question everything you believe that I don’t want to believe in, and let what I want to believe right alone.” Saying that would be far more honest; somehow, though, it doesn’t have quite the same ring.

OK, so maybe I’m a sucker

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and maybe at heart I’m still the ten-year-old who thought The Lord of the Rings was the best thing he’d ever read (there still isn’t much that tops it) and that nobody was cooler than his Dad, except maybe for the people his Dad admired; and certainly, once a Navy brat, always a Navy brat, and there’s no denying the effect growing up Navy has had on who I am. Whatever you want to make of it, this gets me every time:

I’ve said before that I have long had reservations about John McCain politically; based on the candidates’ positions, he was no more than my third choice in this race. I also have to say, though, that about John McCain the person, though he’s far from perfect, I admire him tremendously. Certainly Barack Obama has proven he can inspire people with his rhetorical gifts (much missed in recent American politics) and the vision he paints (though time will tell what his association with the Rev. Dr. Wright and his race speech has done to the potency of that vision); but I believe Sen. McCain is equally capable of inspiring our country with the ideals he upholds—and the way he has lived out those ideals in the service of his country—and the power of his expression. Maybe a few policy disagreements are a small price to pay for that.

Are we really this easy to play?

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Check this out—my thanks to Jared for posting this.

Jared’s right, that’s freaky; it’s also a little scary to think that we can be manipulated that easily. I like to believe I can think for myself—but this makes me wonder what influences are shaping my thought processes without my being aware of them. (And everyone else’s, for that matter.)