Song of the Week

I’d meant to post this earlier in the week—it’s perhaps my favorite Pentecost hymn; a former colleague of mine in Denver, the Rev. Dr. Tom Troeger, wrote the text.

Wind Who Makes All Winds that BlowWind who makes all winds that blow—
Gusts that bend the saplings low,
Gales that heave the sea in waves,
Stirrings in the mind’s deep caves—
Aim your breath with steady power
On your church this day, this hour.
Raise, renew the life we’ve lost,
Spirit God of Pentecost!

Fire who fuels all fires that burn—
Suns around which planets turn,
Beacons marking reefs and shoals,
Shining truth to guide our souls—
Come to us as once you came;
Burst in tongues of sacred flame!
Light and Power, Might and Strength,
Fill your church, its breadth and length!

Holy Spirit, Wind and Flame,
Move within our mortal frame.
Make our hearts an altar pyre;
Kindle them with your own fire.
Breathe and blow upon that blaze
Till our lives, our deeds, and ways
Speak that tongue which every land
By your grace shall understand!Words: Thomas H. Troeger
Music: Carol Doran

FALCONE, 7.7.7.7.D
© 1983, 1985 Oxford University Press, Inc.

“The great challenge in this decade . . . is social revival.”

So says David Cameron, leader of the British Conservative Party, who has brought about a considerable transformation in the party of Thatcher, a transformation he describes this way: “We used to stand for the individual. We still do. But individual freedoms count for little if society is disintegrating. Now we stand for the family, for the neighborhood—in a word, for society.” It seems to be working, since the Conservatives (or Tories) mopped the floor with the ruling Labour Party in local elections held across Britain two weeks ago—Labour even lost in London.David Brooks certainly thinks there’s cause and effect here, and sees a lesson the Republicans need to take to heart. Brooks wrote in last Friday’s column,

The British conservative renovation begins with this insight: The central political debate of the 20th century was over the role of government. The right stood for individual freedom while the left stood for extending the role of the state. But the central debate of the 21st century is over quality of life. In this new debate, it is necessary but insufficient to talk about individual freedom. Political leaders have to also talk about, as one Tory politician put it, “the whole way we live our lives.” . . .These conservatives are not trying to improve the souls of citizens. They’re trying to use government to foster dense social bonds. . . .They want voters to think of the Tories as the party of society while Labor is the party of the state. They want the country to see the Tories as the party of decentralized organic networks and the Laborites as the party of top-down mechanistic control.

As Brooks notes, this isn’t an isolated phenomenon, as center-right parties have risen to power recently in Germany, France, and Canada, among other places; the question is, as he puts it, “whether Republicans will learn those lessons sooner, or whether they will learn them later, after a decade or so in the wilderness.” I don’t know if his analysis is right or not; but it needs to be considered. Carefully. Given that the direction he suggests is one that would suit John McCain well, I hope the McCain campaign is listening, and will give his analysis that consideration.

Politics in a nutshell

I’ve been reminded several times recently of the line (I forget who said it) that the difference between conservatives and liberals is summarized in Brown v. Board of Education. In Brown, if I recall correctly, the Court said that changes should be made “with deliberate speed”; conservatives emphasized deliberate, liberals emphasized speed. As a thumbnail sketch of the two political philosophies, it’s not bad.

(As a side note: it works for churches, too.)

Explanations aren’t excuses

The Atlantic has a piece up today titled “Burma’s Days,” which is essentially a thumbnail sketch of why the behavior of the military junta that rules Burma (and renamed the country Myanmar nine years ago), deplorable though it may be, makes perfect sense in light of Burmese history and culture. It’s a useful piece for the information in it (and a more useful one yet for the links to other articles), but it’s also an irritating example of the tendency among Western intelligentsia to look for excuses for foreign dictators. People who condemn the Israeli government for breathing will look the other way at Mugabe’s efforts to depopulate Zimbabwe or calmly explain how the Burmese military should be excused for diverting aid from cyclone victims because “they have reason to be suspicious about their neighbors and outside powers.” (And of course, those who wouldn’t make those particular mistakes may yet have a soft spot in their hearts for the corrupt rulers of Saudi Arabia, or be perfectly content with the generals running Pakistan; this is a game both left and right can play, and have.) Why is that?I suppose I can understand the Realpolitik approach that says, essentially, as long as dictators don’t give us any trouble, we should let them run their countries however they want; I don’t like it, and in the long run, I think it’s self-defeating (to borrow from Barack Obama on Pakistan, if we choose to promote stability instead of democracy, we tend to wind up with neither), but at least I can see the logic. But what on earth moves our journalists and public intellectuals to find excuses for these thugs? That, I just don’t get. (As you can see, I go with “Burma” over “Myanmar.” The latter is probably closer, as far as I can tell, to what the Burmese people call themselves—not that we let that bother us with places like Hungary—but I have two related reasons for not using it. One, the name change came from the junta, which is an illegitimate government, and therefore in my opinion is likewise illegitimate; and two, it’s not just my opinion. I had, for several months several moves ago, a landlord who was in exile from Burma due to his activities with the opposition; he called his country Burma and himself Burmese. He knew a lot more than I do, and had a lot more reason to care, so if it was good enough for him, it’s good enough for me.)

Doctrine in a nutshell (or two)

HT: Ray OrtlundAnd I never get tired of this song.Creed

I believe in God the Father,
Almighty Maker of Heaven and Maker of Earth,
And in Jesus Christ His only begotten Son, our Lord.
He was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
Born of the virgin Mary,
Suffered under Pontius Pilate
He was crucified and dead and buried.And I believe what I believe
Is what makes me what I am;
I did not make it, no, it is making me—
It is the very truth of God and not the invention of any man.
I believe that He who suffered was crucified, buried and dead;
He descended into Hell and on the third day, He rose again.
He ascended into Heaven where he sits at God’s mighty right hand.
I believe that He’s returning to judge the quick and the dead of the sons of men.ChorusI believe in God the Father,
Almighty Maker of Heaven and Maker of Earth,
And in Jesus Christ His only begotten Son, our Lord.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
One Holy Church,
The communion of saints,
The forgiveness of sins,
I believe in the resurrection,
I believe in a life that never ends.ChorusWords and music: Rich Mullins/Beaker
© 1993 Edward Grant, Inc./Kid Brothers of St. Frank Publishing
From the album
a liturgy, a legacy, & a ragamuffin band, by Rich Mullins

The genius of Bach

Bach : music :: Shakespeare : playwriting. Not only in terms of genius, but also in the fact that the power of the work comes through no matter what you do with it (whether it be Nazi-era Richard III or “electronic Bach”). As Jan Swafford writes in Slate,

His music tends to work in all versions, I submit, because the notes-qua-notes are so good. Mozart, Beethoven, Stravinsky, or [your favorite composer here] were constantly concerned with the instruments that played or sung their work: great notes, too, but intimately bound to their media. In The Art of Fugue Bach didn’t seem to care what the medium was; it would work no matter what. A lot of his music—not all, but a lot—is like that: incomparable notes, regardless of avatar. . .Bach universalized what he called “the art and science of music” by the power of gripping melody, rich harmony, towering perorations, intimate whisperings, explosive joy, piercing tragedy.

That’s why, as Swafford writes, a work as demanding and formal as The Art of Fugue can still end up at the top of the best-seller list (as Pierre-Laurent Aimard’s solo-piano version did this spring): just because it’s Bach at his best. Genius has that kind of power.HT: Alan Jacobs

Belated thoughts on prayer

Over a month ago now, Barry put up a post on prayer asking, essentially, if prayer changes things, why does so little seem to change? I meant to respond at the time, but for a variety of reasons, didn’t get to it; but then I was reminded of his post during a conversation last week with several colleagues in ministry. The question of why our prayers so often don’t get the answer for which we hope is a live one for most pastors, and it’s one for which I don’t have any kind of truly satisfactory answer; but I do have two thoughts.First, I don’t believe that prayer changes things. I believe God changes things. I don’t believe there’s power in prayer, I believe there’s power in the God to whom we pray. I do believe Pascal was right, that prayer is the means by which God gives us the dignity of causality—of doing something other than just passively absorbing his actions—but even if in prayer he allows us a voice in what he does, that doesn’t mean there’s any power in us or our actions, let alone enough power to compel him to do as we want.Second, I’m learning to trust that God knows what he’s doing. One of my colleagues last week, musing on all the times God has not given him what he’s prayed for, made a statement to the effect that “I’ve come to see all those refusals as my salvation.” Experience had taught him that God was right not to grant him his requests. The longer I go, the more times I see in my own life where that’s clearly the case, and the more I learn to trust him for his “no” as well as his “yes.”So why doesn’t God heal more? Why don’t we see people raised from the dead? I don’t know. I’ve been a part of churches where that happened; I’ve seen remarkable healing take place right before my eyes as I and others prayed. I’ve also been a part of other churches that were, as far as I could tell, no less faithful in following God—but prayers for healing were rarely granted. I don’t know why. I don’t suppose I ever will know why. Maybe it has something to do with challenging our modern emphasis on cure over care, which has certainly reached the point of being theologically problematic. But whatever the reason, I’m learning to trust God who has promised that whatever we may bear in this life, in the end, “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”

John McCain, unnatural politician

A couple weeks ago, Karl Rove had an opinion piece in the Wall Street Journal in which he asserted that “Mr. McCain is one of the most private individuals to run for president in history,” and argued that the Senator will have to set his reticence aside and open up to American voters if he wants to win in November. Rove has a point regarding what the electorate will want, and what stories are important for Sen. McCain to tell in the course of making his case to the voters; but what I think he fails to understand is that it’s not just a matter of being a naturally private person, as if he just needed to overcome his embarrassment and brag a little more. Sen. McCain’s reticence, I believe, goes to the heart of who he is.In the first place, it seems to me that he has a real aversion to making political capital out of things that are truly meaningful to him. The stories he’s told about his life during this campaign have been stories he’s told to explain himself, to help people understand him, not to make himself look good or play on voters’ emotions. Clearly, he would prefer to inspire voters by talking about honor, duty, patriotism and courage, not by bragging about what a wonderful person he is; the stories he’s told about himself have tended to be self-deprecating rather than self-exalting. Similarly, though by any normal definition you’d have to call Sen. McCain an evangelical conservative (and one with a strong personal testimony, at that), he’s been very resistant to leading with his faith, preferring to duck such questions or answer them sidelong. I respect that; I think using one’s faith for political gain, turning Jesus into a means to an end, is spiritually a risky thing at best. That said, however, running for office is an act of self-communication; if your relationship with Jesus is at the core of who you are and why you believe and do what you believe and do, then you have to tell people that in a way that they’ll understand. Though I think his theology is notably off at points, I don’t think he deserves the skepticism he’s received from other evangelicals; if he wants their active, involved support rather than just (most of) their votes, he’s going to need to find a way to make that clear.Second, I believe there’s another issue as well with regard to Sen. McCain’s military experience. I think I’ve written about this somewhere (though I can’t find it), but having grown up in a military family, I’ve spent a lot of time around combat veterans, some of whom were Vietnamese POWs. In all that time, I’ve noticed a clear pattern in the kind of stories I hear and the kind I don’t. I hear funny stories, and stories that show what a sharp pilot Commander X was, or how good a shiphandler Captain Y was; I hear stories as object lessons about leadership and doing your job right, and sometimes I hear stories about fellow officers sold up the river by the politicians. What I do not hear, and have never heard, are stories about the blood and guts of combat (for lack of a better phrase). My brother was with my father when he went to the Wall, and saw him break down; I have never seen that side of his experience, and I would be surprised if I ever do. Because, you see, I have never been there; I don’t understand, and I can’t.From my own observations, combat veterans rarely talk about that kind of thing except among their own, with those who don’t need to be told how it was because they already understand, because they, too, were there. That’s why I never trusted John Kerry, because he was the kind of man who could make political capital out of his medals, and out of turning on those with whom he had served; which told me that he’d only gone into the military for what he could get out of it. Fundamentally, he was a political officer, someone who had put on the uniform as a politician, and such people are not to be trusted.Sen. McCain, by contrast, went into the service for very different reasons, and served out of very different motives; and though he, too, went into politics after returning to civilian life, he has made very different (and much more limited) use of his military career in the pursuit of his political goals. Karl Rove is asking him to change that, and to cross a line that I suspect he might find not only difficult but even somewhat dishonorable to cross. I think Rove is right, that his campaign will need to find a way to do that if they’re going to run successfully; but I also think it might be asking too much of the Senator himself to tell those stories. Maybe their best option would be to get folks like Col. Bud Day to cris-cross the country and tell them for him.

Thinking with the fishes

Just a quick post tonight, because I’m dead tired—most of my neurons are sitting in corners sulking, refusing to talk to each other. I have several posts I’ve been hoping to get done, but . . . well, maybe tomorrow . . . maybe Monday.Anyway, if you’re not familiar with The Porpoise-Diving Life, check out the May issue on the website. I’m more than a little biased here, since my wife contributed a piece, and the editor is Erin Word, whom I like quite well, but I do think there’s some good material up. (Sara’s, btw, is the last one in the list, “The Mythical Good Christian Is Just a Piece of Topiary.”) Reading through a few of the pieces set me in mind, for some reason, of a certain theme that pops up a few times in Paul’s letters:“For neither circumcision counts for anything nor uncircumcision,
but keeping the commandments of God.”
—1 Corinthians 7:19 (ESV)“For through the Spirit, by faith, we ourselves eagerly wait for the hope of righteousness. For in Christ Jesus neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything,
but only faith working through love.”
—Galatians 5:5-6 (ESV)“But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. For neither circumcision counts
for anything, nor uncircumcision, but a new creation.”
—Galatians 6:14-15 (ESV)Of course, the issue these days isn’t circumcision; the new legalism has its own equivalents. Let’s just be careful that in throwing off legalism, we don’t make a fetish of its opposite. As Paul is at pains to tell us, circumcision is nothing, but neither is uncircumcision . . .