Quest

The Importance of the Contemplative Life

2008-04-07T22:07:00.001-04:00

Jesus, once arrived to a house in which two women lived, one named Mary and the other Martha. They were excited to greet him and welcomed Jesus and his disciples into their home. Once things settled down at Mary and Martha’s house Jesus began to share his wisdom and teach. Mary was riveted she couldn’t pull herself away from Jesus’ words. But Martha, loyal to custom was busy making preparations for Jesus and his disciples. This was normal. When visitors came to your home you made preparations for them. However, oddly enough, the Bible subverts this local custom and says that Martha was “distracted by all the preparations she had made.” She gets mad at Mary, “Lord, don’t you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!”

We would expect Jesus to respond with “Oh…wow, I didn’t realize that you were doing all that work. Mary, by all means, help Martha!” But he doesn’t he challenges the busy Martha by saying, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” The most important thing, as Jesus tells Martha, is not to become busy with plans and preparations, meetings and work but rather to be learning from and reflecting upon God.

Many notable people throughout history have known this to be case. People that are in our own cultural memory, like Martin Luther King Jr. and Mother Theresa were very busy people, active people—but their active life was informed by there contemplative life. They drew the strength for their activity from the great well of prayer and study.

“To see life steadily, and see it whole,” Matthew Arnold wrote, and in a way I believe that this articulates another aspect of what I’m getting at. To see life steadily we need to be immersed in the great story of God’s redemptive love, we need to see life not from our fragmented post-modern soapbox, rather from a place of loving generosity and full honesty—the place of Christ. Again, to gain such a perspective life, that is, “to see life steadily, and see it whole,” we need time to allow God to reposition us—through time in prayer to God and reflection upon God’s word.

As the semester comes to a close there are many things that could potentially send us off careening off course: finals, jobs, family pressure. It’s important to remember, perhaps more than ever before, “only one thing,” in the end, “is needed,” to come before God contemplatively and humbly.

Curiosity and Double-Knowledge: Bernard of Clairvaux as Monastic Humanist

2008-03-27T15:00:00.000-04:00

The word wandering connotes purposelessness; if I wander I neither remember nor expect—I drift. Wandering, for Bernard of Clairvaux, became a central metaphor for what he understood to be the first and most destructive step towards pride: “curiosity” (ltn. curiositas). While in the present it is nearly valorized, in Bernard’s thought, and Augustine before him, curiosity is most often wedded to sin. To the post-modern westerner this condemnation of curiosity sounds fascist, or at very least passé. This paper proposes a pursuit towards understanding the Bernardian idea of curiosity, lest we become liable to our own condemnation.
There are other reasons, however, for this pursuit— besides escaping the fascist stamp ourselves—I believe that Bernard’s understanding of curiosity could potentially be, not only the stumbling block mentioned above, but also a balm to a lost and wandering western culture. In demonstrating this, I will define Bernard’s specific definition of curiosity, primarily as it appears in his treatise On the Steps Towards Humility and Pride (now on HP). Further, I will argue that Bernard’s low view of curiosity did not require that he also have a low view of either the mind or the human person. Indeed, I hope to demonstrate that Bernard himself is enmeshed in a medieval humanism. Lastly, I will retract the historical telescope so that we can take note of our cultural landscape, proposing that Bernard’s understanding of curiosity might provide an interesting alternative to the wandering post-modern-mind.

Images of Curiosity in Bernard’s On The Steps Towards Humility and Pride
“Wandering,” “lift[ing] up your eyes,” and “prying”—the prominent images Bernard uses to describe curiosity in HP—all connote a departure from a given station. Bernard, near the beginning of his exposition on curiosity, explains that a “Wherever [a curious monk] stands, walks, sits, his eyes begin to wander.” The source of this curiosity is apathy with regard to “the condition he has left himself within.” Bernard, in the above passage, describes the “eyes as wandering”—evidence of curiosity—this shows the close link he sees between the senses and the person’s movement towards either virtue or vice. But the act of wandering need not be limited to the senses proper, “curiosity” itself can go about “wandering,” as he mentions a few paragraphs later. This, rather than demonstrating a different meaning, offers another shade of interpretation to Bernard’s use of wandering as an image for curiosity.
The image of wandering surfaces throughout Bernard’s writings; Bernard pleas in a letter to Pope Calixtus to order a run-away Abbot to return as Bernard fears this might allow for “anyone wanting to wander […] without danger to find the same way of life observed as he had professed at home.” Bernard also declares that this Abbot left his home monastery “Morimund […] impelled by a spirit of frivolity.” Here again wandering connotes a departure from a station, which Bernard names “home.” The parallels are evident; the monastery at Morimund offers a place of self-knowledge, where one may live under a common rule; the road to Jerusalem is novel and leads away from self-knowledge to knowledge of the world. The wandering Abbot exchanges the inward pilgrimage for the outward pilgrimage. In another letter about the same incident Bernard calls the aforementioned Abbot’s journey “vagabondage” and in yet another letter declares that the Abbot is “wandering abroad against the rule.” For Bernard, wandering as an image of curiosity, suggests a departure from something of primary importance—that being either self-knowledge proper or a station by which one might further in self-knowledge.
Bernard’s second image for curiosity is the action of “lift[ing one’s] eyes to heaven.” In this particular image Bernard alludes to Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the tax-collector; the Pharisee prays, “God, I thank you that I am not like other men […],” while the self-aware tax-collector “[…] not even look[ing] up to heaven […] said, God have mercy on me, a sinner.” Bernard saw the tax-collector as a type of what the devout should resemble, “lifting [the]eyes” should be avoided so that one may remember that they still bear the marks of original sin: “look at the earth and know yourself” for “dust you are and to dust you shall return.” Here, like the image of “wandering,” there is a departure from self-knowledge with the “lifting [of the] eyes.”
Yet, Bernard clearly does not believe that a state of perpetual contrition is advisable. This is most evident in his third sermon on the Song of Songs where he maintains that the Christian move from earth gazing contrition, articulated in the image of kissing the Christ’s feet, to receiving the hand of the Christ so that we may kiss his hand and rise to be “joined with him in a holy kiss.” However, here it is important to remember that HP is warning of the dangers of pride, where a call to contrition and deep self-knowledge is appropriate, and in his third sermon he is seeking to provide biblical stages of spiritual growth. That aside, again Bernard argues that curiosity draws one’s self away from profitable reflection and towards that which is not within reach.
The third image—both in prominence and place—that Bernard employs to describe curiosity is the act of prying. He writes with Satan in mind, “You want to pry with your curiosity.” In the larger context Bernard has quickly described the curiosity of both Dinah and Eve, and is now articulating how Satan’s fall was also rooted in a failure to not “stand in [the] proper place,” and while “everyone else in heaven is standing. [Satan] alone affects to sit.” Again we see the fundamental root of curiosity is a departure from a given station. In this context the image of “pry[ing]” becomes more vivid as Bernard depicts Satan as departing from his station “to pry” into the glory that belongs to God alone. Curiosity is, as articulated by the image of prying, much more purposely malignant. Unlike “wandering,” which implies “frivolity” but not an all out maliciousness, and “lifting [of the] eyes,” which—more than wandering—evokes a sense of troublesome self-agnosticism; “pry[ing]” shows a willful and purposive malignancy. While the three images differ in malevolence they all—as aforementioned—connote a fundamental departure from self-knowledge; there are for Bernard “two ways, one leading to salvation by way of self-knowledge, the other to perdition by way of curiosity.”
The School and the Monastery
In a letter “To the Bishops and Cardinals in Curia” Bernard describes Abelard’s thought as “prying into things to strong for it.” Prying is employed in the same manner as it is in HP—it represents a lack of self-knowledge as the “things” are “too strong” for Abelard the prier. However, the comparison is deeper than similar usage; surrounding the description of Abelard’s prying are comments that more fully evoke the above description of curiosity. Bernard contends that the “Fathers are being derided because they held that such matters are better allowed to be tasted than solved.” This is important for when Bernard received questions coming from the potentially curious he “applied his principles in the light of Scripture and the Fathers.” The tension between Abelard and Bernard exists with regard to authority. Abelard in Sic et Non shows the Fathers as contradictory and therefore proposes himself as an authority; while Bernard upon receiving seemingly superfluous questions, such as “why the Maccabees, […] have been accorded by the Fathers […] an annual feast,” replies—apparently after a period of silence, “I did not answer […] at once as I have been hoping to find something bearing on the subject in the Fathers, which I would rather have sent […] than anything new of my own.” While Bernard strived for humilitas, living under the authorities of Scripture and the Fathers, Abelard “[sought] to understand in a spirit of Curiositas,” by prying open the bulwarks of orthodoxy.
However, to fully equate Bernard with humilitas and Abelard with curiositas is unhelpful as it ignores both the flaws in Bernard and the genius and tragedy of Abelard. Rather, it is more fruitful to see them both representing different types of learning. As is noted above, for Bernard, learning is rooted in the double knowledge of God and self. This does not mean that Bernard and his contemporaries were “anti-humanists” but were rather against “trivium as resulting from a reassessment of [their] monastic life.” To Bernard all forms of learning that fix their trajectory outside the double knowledge of God and man are “superfluous,” because “they do not make the monks weep.” In this self-imposed restriction Bernard shows the seriousness with which he regarded the monastic life, indeed—for Bernard—to move on in learning, past the double-knowledge, is to forget the sin and creatureliness of the self, and to wander past boundaries laid out by the Apostles and Fathers.
Abelard, however, worked in the context of the university where liberal learning was growing and theology was a discipline among others, though still the most favorable. In the medieval university differing disciplines held a relative independent authority. Indeed, the university had the potential for “[…] conflict, disagreement, or dispute […] within the university […] among the various faculties or between secular and mendicant masters.” This parallels Abelard’s dialectical epistemology which arrived at truth through argument and contrasted positions. Bernard, however, embraced the “schola Christi,” and submission to the Abbot and Benedict’s rule. While, it is important to not reduce the Bernard-Abelard conflict to a “clash between innovation and tradition” alone, it seems equally important to not see any other mode of explanation as primary. As we have seen Abelard, in many ways, epitomizes Bernard’s depiction of curiositas.
Bernard’s Medieval Humanism
Nevertheless, Bernard was anything but a frigid despot in the perpetual posture of condemnation. As Gilson has articulated, “[…] each and all of these hardy ascetics carried in his bosom a humanist who by no means wanted to die.” And as Bernard explained, “In itself […] the study of letters is good, for it adorns the soul, instructs the man, and makes him capable of instructing others. But it is good only on condition that two things precede it: fear of God and charity.” In this we see the tension that existed for Bernard; it was not that liberal learning was bad, rather it was the schola christi was to be privileged as it dealt with humankind’s most significant problems and therefore prepared the student for liberal learning.
This shows, therefore, that fundamental to Bernard’s humanism was, in his mind, the correct place of the human. Because humankind has both “greatness” and has “lost […] uprightness” seriousness is demanded, one which assumes the posture of double-knowledge and condemns vain curiosity. To this end, and again reflecting Bernard’s humanism, he employs imaginative exegesis to spur the soul onto love, indeed, “Bernard’s ascetism [is in relation] to his doctrine of love.” Bernard’s imaginative exegesis can be seen throughout his sermons and treatises as his rhetorical method of portraying both the “greatness” and “lost uprightness” of humankind, so that the monks might be moved to strive more deeply for this double-knowledge of God and self. It is precisely because, for Bernard, “in the very construction of the soul there is a natural drive to God and a capacity for him […]” that Bernard uses imaginative exegesis, so to win the soul’s ‘neutrality’ over to God’s love and the soul’s love for God. If we are to understand Bernard on his own terms we see that he is more affirming of humanity than the most decadently curious hedonist, it is only that for Bernard, affirmation moves through ascesis.
The Wandering Bazaar and Curiosity Bridled
The late-modern westerner most likely recoils at such seemingly dated ideas as the prevention of curiosity. Curiosity, and the progress it implies, is a battle cry that is heard resounding in newspapers and magazines. Alternately, those of a conservative vein are perhaps tempted to look out onto the cultural backdrop and only see “lonely travails across a landscape so perilous no one could traverse it unscarred.” Harper’s Magazine, while most often offering up a vision of progress, at times also expresses bleak visions, particularly in the column “Findings,” where it gives a discursive prose-poem of sorts which describes the latest discoveries in the sciences. One month’s column begins,
A team of scientists at Newcastle University created human embryos by combining the genetic material of one man and two women, […] and Brazilian scientists created egg cells from the embryonic stem cells of male mice. […] Female yellow baboons with supportive fathers were observed to reach menarche earlier, to begin having children earlier, and to have more children than female baboons whose fathers were not involved in their lives […]
The “findings” go on to include “studies,” which “calculated that harvesting grass for fuel creates 93 times more carbon emissions than are saved by the production of cleaner fuel,” and, “Mercury was observed to be shrinking and acquiring wrinkles as it ages,” the article concludes with, “Haystacks in Australia were suffering a high rate of spontaneous combustion. The world’s dirt was disappearing faster than ever before.” The tone throughout offers sardonic chuckles at the bazaar of useless “findings,” this is aptly demonstrated by the concluding line bespeaking regress, not the progress one would expect with the latest “findings.” This, as a Bernardian might argue—oddly enough in near agreement with the editors at Harper’s—is frivolity’s wandering quest for vana curiositas, the journey which most often leads away from God and the self.
Contrastingly, what is central for Bernard, and to offer a prescription for our current western cultural climate, is the discipline of biblical-theological anthropology. In such a discipline we most readily assume the posture of creature in relation to Creator. All other anthropologies set the sail off a different direction. The anthropology of the curious is an untamed romanticism with regard to the limitlessness of human ingenuity and progress—it shirks off its creatureliness and assumes to be creator. Yet the solution is not a bleak conservatism that stamps out any flame of progress, this anthropology fails to see what humanity was made for. Bernard, here seems to be a fine model, for he maintained a biblical anthropology which allowed him to see the importance of both, kissing the feet, and the lips of God.

Bernard of Clairvaux, ed. G.R. Evans, Selected Works: Classics in Western Spirituality, Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1987, 122,5 (“wandering”); 123 (“lift[ing] up your eyes”); 126 (“pry[ing]”). I am using “station” in a very broad sense, to include a sense of given-ness and the departure there from.
Ibid, 122.
Ibid.
For more on this see: Bernard of Clairvaux, “On Conversion” in Selected Works, 65-99.
Ibid, 125.
It may also suggest that Bernard is more concerned with rhetorical force than he is with rhetorical finish, as there is a minor conflation of the senses and “curiosity” (curiosity directs senses producing wandering, and curiosity itself wanders).
Bernard of Clairvaux, ed. Bruno Scott James, The Letters of St. Bernard of Clairvaux, London, England: Burns Oates, 1953, 24.
Ibid.
Ibid, 24, 5.
Bernard also uses “wander” in relation to Abelard’s attempt to defy faith, he writes, “[…] it is not allowed you in our faith, to suppose or oppose at your pleasure, nor to wander hither and thither amongst empty opinions […].” Bernard of Clairvaux, ed. Samuel J. Eales, The Letters of S. Bernard, London, England: Ballantyne, 1904, 273. One also is led to see Bernard’s use of wandering as alluding to the exile from Eden as his second use of wandering in HP is enveloped in a conversation on the tasting of the forbidden fruit.
Bernard of Clairvaux, Works, 124.
This observation is made in the footnotes in Bernard’s Selected Works edition. For the biblical passage see: Luke 18:11,13
Ibid, 124.
Ibid.
Bernard of Clairvaux, Selected Works, 223.
Again an Edenic allusion seems probable, given the context. “Lifting up the eyes” seems to suggest a grasping for something out of reach, as Adam and Eve forgot their status as creatures hoping that they would “be like God” (Gen. 3:5), the monk who “lifts up the eyes” with Luke’s Pharisee hopes to see God despite his sin.
Ibid, 126.
Ibid, 125.
Etienne Gilson, The Mystical Theology of Bernard of Clairvaux, New York, NY: Shedd & Ward, 1955, 156.
Bernard of Clairvaux, Letters, 315, 6.
The pun was at first not intended, then upon further reflection the subtleties were irresistible as “prier” and “Prior” are both homonyms and antonyms, that is, they are similar in appearance but are antithetical in reality.
Ibid, 316.
G.R. Evans, The Mind of St. Bernard of Clairvaux, Oxford, England: Clarendon Press, 1983, 142.
Bernard of Clairvaux, Letters, 144.
Evans, Mind, 163.
Thomas Renna, “St. Bernard and the Pagan Classics” in The Chimera of His Age: Studies on Bernard of Clairvaux, ed. E. Rozanne Elder and John R. Sommerfeldt, Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, 1980, 124.
Ibid, 125.
For an helpful paper on the growth of the secular university in Medieval times see: Stephan Fernando, ‘“Quid dant artes nisi luctum?” Learning, Ambition, and Careers in the Medieval University,’ History of Education Quarterly, 28:1, 1988, 1-22.
Ibid, 5.
Gilson, Mystical Theology, 60-1.
Constant J. Mews, “The Council of Sens (1141): Abelard, Bernard, and the Fear of Social Upheaval,”
Speculum, 77.2, 2002, 343.
Gilson, Mystical Theology, 63.ll
Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermons on the Song of Songs, 37:1-2; quoted in Gilson, Mystical Theology, 229.
Bernard of Clairvaux, Selected Works, 261.
Emero Stiegman, “Humanism in Bernard of Clairvaux” in Chimera, 27. I realize that one might contend that though Bernard’s exegesis actually invokes very little ‘free-wielding’ imagination, rather it is the common ecclesial exegesis, first employed by Origen. This, however, misses Bernard’s great desire to see monks move towards a deeper love for Christ. For example there is, I think, a parallel in our culture which would help illustrate the above; evangelicals employ nearly every form of technology imaginable for purpose of evangelism. One might argue that it simply because they live in a technological age, this however—as is immediately obvious to those familiar with evangelicalism—misses the fact that evangelicals, when it comes to evangelism, have a fairly utilitarian approach to technology. Bernard, I believe, as it relates to his exegesis, is similar.
Ibid, 25.
There are other current areas to explore, however, in the following I hope to provide a brief example of how curiosity has manifested itself in post-modern western culture.
Mary Karr, “Facing Altars: Poetry and Prayer,” Sinner’s Welcome, San Francisco, CA: Harpers, 84.
Ed. Roger D. Hodge, “Findings,” Harper’s Magazine, April 2008, 104.

Personal Reflections: Praying the Hours

2008-02-19T13:49:00.003-05:00

While I sat at our small kitchen table with the Celebrating Common Prayer open alongside Lancelot Andrew’s Private Prayers I did not immediately realize that I was participating in something that stretched back to traditions rooted in the Israel’s prayer practices. I’ve been taught, and discipled, to not privilege tradition but theology. I remember being stunned, at William Temple’s suggestion, that all faith and theological teaching stemmed from Christ’s historic teaching from the real tangible boats, mountain tops, and valleys. When I told an old friend he subtly chided me, “Bryan—while I agree—don’t you think that we have a more immediate connection to Christ through His Holy Spirit which is now at work within us and the church bringing us into all truth?” I agreed. He was right—the historic should never be privileged over the spiritual and theological. That, as it seems, leads to the person destroying traditionalism toted around by the Pharisees of Jesus’ own day. Still, when the historic and the spiritual kiss, or at least shake hands—there, I now confidently think, is reason for rejoicing. I don’t think my slow change of perspective has come about because of my own desire to be faddish, or to be cool amidst Regent student’s championing of things ancient and sacramental. No, my embrace of the historic—while certainly informed by my time here at Regent—is rooted in my realizing that God operates in time. As Christ’s hands bear the marks of the cross, so history bears the marks of the Holy Spirit engaging with the great mess we make, working for its redemption. History, in one way or another contains the spiritual—even now. To deny history and the traditions our fathers and mothers give us is to deny how the Holy Spirit has worked in our past—this as it seems is far from gracious.

So I read through Celebrating Common Prayer and Andrew’s Private Prayers with a growing sense that I was surrounded by a “great cloud of witnesses.” My faith, I came to see, wasn’t my own thing. It was God’s thing and because it was God’s it was also the church’s, and because it was the church’s it was historical. And because, in the end, faith wasn’t about me—it wasn’t my thing—I came to experience relief. I didn’t have to forge ahead by my own self-will and spontaneity alone. In this way the prayers I read were like verbal grace—they were not something I did but something I participated in and received.

I read that the offices, though formally implemented with Benedict, were inspired by John Cassian, who was in turn inspired by desert monks, who in turn were inspired by the Psalms. History, I came to see, is like a great scroll that only stops unrolling at the words, “In the beginning God created […].”

Gary Thomas' Beautiful Fight

2008-02-13T12:25:00.003-05:00

"Beautiful" and "fight," they're two words you don't see together often. Yet in Gary Thomas' latest book The Beautiful Fight they are strung together most excellently. Thomas, adjunct professor at Western Seminary and award winning author, is drawing his title from the Orthodox Fathers' reading of 2nd Timothy 4:7-8. This text, more commonly translated as "the good fight," is an apt gloss for Thomas' thoughts on the spiritual life.

The Christian spiritual life is the common denominator throughout the three sections and16 chapters. Thomas does this by fusing together the genius and wisdom of biblical passages, church fathers (such as Clement of Alexandria and Athanasius), medieval mystics (Julian of Norwich), Puritan divines (John Flavel), along with contemporary voices like J.I. Packer, N.T. Wright, and John Piper. One thing, that's evident even at a glance, is that Thomas' thoughts on the Christian spiritual life aren't monochrome. He doesn't confine himself to the contemporary--a common error in American evangelicalism--neither does he stick to a particular theological tradition, nor one aspect of the Christian spiritual life. Instead Thomas, with a discerning ecumenism, shows that the essential witness of Christian spirituality is one of harmony. With this in mind, he writes, "Christian Spirituality is all about [...] our Creator and Lord taking ordinary people and making them potent instruments of God."

In Beautiful Fight Thomas answers the call which many Christians are longing for. That is, what does it mean to have an embodied and active faith. He does this by weaving in life-stories from his time at Regent College to his life as a husband and father. Because of his integration of life and thought the reader feels that the book is at least in part an invitation into a dialogue on, about, and over the Christian spiritual life. And it's a conversation that is of the utmost importance; every where we turn, it seems, there is another front page article on `spirituality' or another book on the `spirituality of (fill in the blank).' In a world where everyone from Oprah to your local barista is a `spirituality' expert it is refreshing to hear a voice which articulates a Holy Spirit-uality.

The beautiful dazzle and flash of sunlighted minnows

2008-02-01T00:53:00.000-05:00

The creator goes off on one wild, specific tangent after another, or millions simultaneously, with an exuberance that would seem to be unwarranted, and with an abandoned energy sprung from an unfathomable font. What is going on here? The point of the dragonfly's terrible lip, the giant water bug, birdson, or the beautiful dazzle and flash of sunlighted minnows, is not that it all fits together like clockwork—for it doesn't, particularly, not even inside the goldfish bowl—but that it all flows so freely wild, like the creek, that it all surges in such a free fringed tangle. Freedom is the world's water and weather, the world's nourishment freely given, its soil and sap: and the creator loves pizzazz.

- Annie Dillard
Teaching a Stone to Talk

White Whale

2008-01-31T00:59:00.000-05:00

My man Matt Humphrey has recently revamped his blog and has put some new posts up. Check it out; it's worth a peak. Click on the link.

http://creationandthewhitewhale.blogspot.com/

Spirituality?

2008-01-23T18:07:00.000-05:00

Anne Lamott writes in her spiritual autobiography Traveling Mercies, “Religion is for those who are afraid of Hell, spirituality is for those who’ve been through it.” I agree, in some ways. We all have seen how “religion” can be—and often is—dry bones. Formalism without meaning and spontaneity, structure without life—these are some of the phrases that have come to describe many people’s thoughts about religion. Still, religious studies classes at Harvard and other Ivy League schools—as well as UBC—are filling up. In Chapters Bookstore there are aisles of shelf space given to religious books. Still, and here Lamott’s quote takes flesh, based on church attendance Vancouver is perhaps the most ‘secular’ place in North America. People crave spiritual experience, and a vague notion of “spirituality” but are leery of ‘religion.’
There are a few characteristics of this “fad,” if it’s fair to call it that, that strike me as odd. The first is how private it is. Overhearing a conversation at Starbucks a few weeks ago I heard a person report to a friend “…Then she started asking me if I was spiritual, and kept asking questions. Now believe me, I am deeply spiritual! But it’s private—I’m not gonna tell her about my private spiritual life.” It’s quite amazing really, that is, how the spiritual side of our lives has become more private than our sex life.

Second, while we are rightly becoming more aware of third world exploitation—we’re buying fair-trade even though it cost more. We, the West, are engaging in other forms of exploitation, namely, religious exploitation. I think of the young businessman who has statues of Shiva and Buddha, and perhaps a Greek Orthodox cross in his house and upon a dinner conversation says, “I hate the west, all we care about here is getting money.” The irony, of course, being that with all his warranted distaste of Western society he really is deeply Western—his home décor proves it. He has brought together different religions for the sake of his own stylish spirituality and thus shown disregard for what the statue of Buddha ultimately means, say, to the Buddhist. Like the woman who doesn’t care about fair-trade as long as her coffee is rich and bold, he too, ultimately, doesn’t care about the deep history and meaning of Buddha, along as his spirituality is personally rewarding and savvy.

What is striking about contemporary spirituality is how self centered it is. This, I must say, saddens me. However, Lamott is still very right. Spirituality does appeal to those who have experienced hard times, or as she puts it, “hell.” The Christian message, though, is comforting as it maintains that true hope ultimately comes, not from a tradition, but a person—the person of Jesus Christ. When troubled, remember that, reach through the spiritual confusion of our present time, all the way to Christ. He is the one who offers a real hope—in a real relationship.

Bavinck and Common Grace

2008-01-10T13:09:00.000-05:00

I've been reading about Common Grace lately. It's a distinctive of reformed theology though it has other Protestant and Catholic parallels, such as Natural Theology, Natural Law, General Revelation. What the main difference is Common Grace's ability to escape a systematic definition. Some of the greatest proponents of Common Grace have maintained that they surely believe it exists, though they don't know exactly what it is. It arises naturally from experience. All around us we see people who do not live, at least confessedly, under God's special atoning grace. Yet, many of them are incredibly profound thinkers and artists. Their work and thought confesses aspects of a Christian world-view, though without the terms of the confessions and creeds. It also arises from the reformed theologians desire to maintain that everything good is God's free gift, that is, man not only did not merit it but God actively gave it. Further it avoids distinctions between nature and grace, which are common to other areas of theology. Common Grace theologians maintains it's not limited to the work of culture, but that even rain that waters crops is a common grace. Everything that prevents sin and promotes life which is not distinct to only those who live under God's Saving Grace could be called Common Grace. We find biblical support for such a theology in John 1:9 and Acts 17, as well as many other places in the Bible.

One of the greatest proponents of such a view is my man Herman Bavinck, the contemporary of Abraham Kuyper. Bavinck represents some of the best of Dutch Neo-Calvinism. Here are a couple quotes:

The three sisters, logic, physics, and ethics, are like the three wise men from the east, who came to worship Jesus in perfect wisdom

and

The good philosophical thoughts scattered through the pagan world receive in Christ their unity and center

something to be hoped for

2007-11-28T02:13:00.000-05:00

The Oxen

Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock,
“Now they are all on their knees,”
An elder said as we sat in a flock
By the embers in hearthside ease.

We pictured the meek mild creatures where
They dwelt in their strawy pen,
Nor did it occur to one of us there
To doubt they were kneeling then.

So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
“Come; see the oxen kneel,

“In the lonely barton by yonder comb
Our childhood used to know”
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so.
--Thomas Hardy

Something to be Hoped for

This poem by Thomas Hardy expresses something that we all feel; that is, it talks about responding to the call of faith even when doubt abounds. The last two lines capture the sentiment perfectly, “I should go with him in the gloom, / Hoping it might be so.” Hardy doesn’t paint an overly romanticized portrait of the state of things. No, he wraps up all of human experiences with one noun: “gloom.” While I’d like to point out that it isn’t all together accurate (I mean c’mon life isn’t all “gloom” it’s filled with joy too!) I recognize that now is the time of the year when life often feels like mere “gloom.” The rains—though we have still got our fair share of sun—are upon us, many have exams, nearly all of us (except the wee ones) are feeling financially pinched with the all the present buying, we’re over committed with Christmas and other holiday events, etc, etc.

Hardy ends with important words, “Hoping it might be so.” They’re the words of someone who’s doubting their belief in God. Still though, I am struck by the fact that the speaker “[goes] Hoping it might be so.” This shows that, despite our emotions and rational arguments, which seem to point us elsewhere, the best counter to the “gloom” is belief in a God who was willing to take on flesh—enter into the “gloom”—and eventually redeem it on the cross.

Maybe you feel as if the “gloom” is overwhelming. Maybe you are struggling with all the pressures that exams and end of term bring with them. Perhaps you’re buckling under the credit card bills that pile up on the kitchen counter. Whatever your situation, I would say come to the one “Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant” (Phil. 2:6). There is more than enough in him, more than enough reason to have the assurance to “[hope] it might be so.”

Some Good Stuff From Bonhoeffer

2007-10-25T12:24:00.001-04:00

While listening to NPR's Speaking of Faith the other day I heard Krista Tippet (she did an MDiv. at Yale) interview a documentarian who recently finished a project on Bonhoeffer. Here was one of the quotes that I particularly enjoyed.

The first service that one owes to others in community consists in listening to them. Just as love for God begins with listening to His Word, so the beginning of love for the brethren is learning to listen to them. It is God's love for us that He not only gives His Word but also lends us His ear. …Many people are looking for an ear that will listen. They do not find it among Christians because these Christians are talking where they should be listening. But he who can no longer listen to his brother will soon be no longer listening to God either; he will be doing nothing but prattle in the presence of God. This is the beginning of the death of the spiritual life, and, in the end, there is nothing left but spiritual chatter and clerical condescension arrayed in pious words.

Then while reading John Webster's Holy Scripture: A Dogmatic Sketch I ran head on into another Bonhoeffer quote:

"The child poses a problem to theology"

Blessings.

Discomfort for Joy

2007-10-03T14:11:00.000-04:00

The typical response I get after telling someone that I run long distance is something like, “I only run when someone is chasing me” or “Oh…you mean like Forest Gump?” While I used to not know how to respond I now have grown accustomed to these remarks; of course there is nothing really rude meant by them. At the most they’re meant as playful joking. Still, I think it underscores the fact that most people don’t understand why anyone would willingly place themselves amidst such discomfort. The simple fact is running is indeed painful; sometimes I wonder myself why I do it. I know most runners, if asked why they run, would reply, “Because it makes me feel good.” To quote a Canadian favorite, “Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think?” that something painful would produce the answer “it’s feels good.” Yet, I believe that tucked in this irony is a brilliant truth.
The early Christians understood this brilliant truth. For instance the earliest church history book—the biblical book Acts—tells us, “[all the believers] had everything in common […] Selling their possessions and goods, they gave to anyone as he had need.” They’d do things like fast regularly so that they could give the money they didn’t spend to the needy. They did this to help those in need, and to grow in their relationship with God, as with distance running their discomfort produced joy.
Perhaps the reason why this sounds odd, discomfort producing joy, is because it’s a truth that has been more or less forgotten. Just as the sacrificial way of the early Christians ran counter to the prevailing norms of the Roman Empire we too in live in culture which tells us “do whatever you want” or “you deserve indulgence” and “you’re entitled to happiness, and this will give it to you.” If you don’t believe me start paying attention to the billboards, the ads on busses, and the commercials on your television. Now far be it from me to say something silly like “happiness is bad.” That’s crazy talk. However, I think our culture’s love affair with pleasure has stifled its joy.
The biblical author Peter calls Christians “sojourners” and “nomads.” What he meant was that the world has a way of doing life that runs counter to the higher way, the way of Christ—because of that the Christian lives a life on pilgrimage, never fully comfortable in a world that seeks first itself. This non-conformity to the world’s paradigm became for them a spiritual act of worship; it became joy.
Running—at least for me—helps to foster this deep way of life. When I am running up Spanish Banks hill after a hard 15k I can remember that deep truth: “discomfort often produce joy.” This of course isn’t just a big plug for running—though I highly recommend it—however, it is a big plug for recapturing this way of life; a way of life not curved inward towards indulgence but oriented upward in worship and outward in service.

A Diagrammatic Look at First Peter

2007-10-03T12:31:00.000-04:00

Listening, Hearing, Heeding: A Marital Ethic of Listening

2007-09-25T16:37:00.000-04:00

Oftentimes parties grow too loud for couples hoping for a conversation of greater depth than that of the tastiness of a certain appetizer. They long to hear “come with me” away from this noise to a place we can talk and listen. This situation where noise prevents the conversation of a married couple is not unlike the current discourse regarding Christian marriage. There are loud voices, on both sides, neither position providing the furniture that makes conversation comfortable, or safe. Because of this I hope to diffuse the noise of discourse while creating a space for, as I see it, the deepest of Christian marital ethics: listening. I will do this by examining the polarized models commonly referred to as: hierarchalist and egalitarian; arguing that both approaches carry with them presuppositions. These presuppositions, I will show, effect the hermeneutic they employ and limit their vision. I will then demonstrate that the nature of an abstract model of marriage appropriated in a marriage often takes the form of abuse, hierarchalist or egalitarian. From there I will describe listening as an alternative marital ethic that is not only rooted deeply in the biblical landscape but is also a pregnant metaphor for how a Christian couple might “do marriage” given the fluidity of life. Furthermore, I will argue that listening as the formative marital ethic not only calls spouses to each other in inward movement, but also sends them out together to engage transformatively in culture.
Hermeneuticists agree that a text is “polysemous or capable of generating multiple interpretations.” The converse of this argument is precisely that all readers approach texts with presuppositions, which “are often conditioned by their social historical and cultural location.” John Bartowski, in his essay Beyond Biblical Literalism and Inerrancy highlights two popular evangelical writers representing both poles within the evangelical marriage debate. Bartowski’s project is to look at the particular hermeneutic employed by these writers and then examine the presuppositions that inform this hermeneutic. He chooses Larry Christenson as the representative voice advocating a hierarchalist model of marriage. Bartowski believes to have found two presuppositions that inform Christenson’s hermeneutic, they are: (1) women need a husband’s protection because women are subject to attack (physical, spiritual, emotional, psychological), (2) Women are more likely to sin than men. While conservatives might argue that Christenson’s presuppositions themselves are rooted in biblical passages others have demonstrated that current hierarchalist models of marriage, such as the very model Christenson advocates, owe just as much to a post-industrial revolution model of “doing marriage” as to an exegesis of certain biblical passages. Further, Christensen’s claim that a woman needs a male’s protection seems to simplify an important and poignant complexity, that being: oftentimes women are in need of protection from their overpowering and abusive husbands. If an ethos of privacy and submissiveness is prized how does an abused wife cry out?
For an example of the egalitarian perspective he chooses Ginger Gabriel’s book Being a Woman of God. The presuppositions Bartowski believes to find in Gabriel’s hermeneutic are: (1) equality of sexes rooted in God’s ungenderedness, (2) and the equal distribution of emotional and rational attributes among the sexes (rather than rational/male, emotional/female). Certainly biblical passages come to mind that give Gabriel’s position strength. Paul’s charge of mutual submission within a marital relationship and his call to bodily oneness are not the least. However, this biblical grounding to feminist arguments is not always the case. Douglas Shuurman writes, “In the same way that Luther was eager to throw the Epistle of James out of the Canon because it seemed to teach works-righteousness, so too some feminists are ready to dismiss several of the Pauline letters because they seem to teach patriarchy.” It seems to me that this canonical flexibility is closer to the page tearing Marcion than anything Luther ever advocated. An example of this is Letty Russell who has written that,
Feminist readings of the Bible can discern a norm within Biblical faith by which the Biblical texts themselves can be criticized. To the extent to which Biblical texts reflect this normative principle, they are regarded as authoritative. On this basis many aspects of the Bible are to be frankly set aside and rejected.
The critical eye observes a few things: (1) a specific notion of gender-equality in the Bible is prized above all other propositions and narrative elements, (2) the definition of “gender-equality” is rooted in a modern liberal definition which sets autonomy as the main standard of equality. Further, an observation of Elizabeth Achtemeier’s is important here, she writes, “Many [feminists] do not want to trust a Lord—that basic requirement of the Christian faith. The Lordship of Jesus Christ, in whose service is perfect freedom, smacks too much to them of a hierarchical domination.” A western egalitarian hermeneutic is further culturally contextualized when understood as just a piece within a larger global feminism, which often accepts more traditional approaches to married and family life.
Through this we can assuredly say that both hierarchalists and egalitarians approach the biblical text with their own presuppositions. Further, the interpretations informed by each hermeneutic produce abstractions, ideals, and models. While this is not altogether bad when doing systematic theology; abstractions when exported into the flesh of real life—specifically married life—carry with them a potential for abuse.
Models are in a fundamental way abstract, they propose ends that do not necessarily conform into real life. If a given marital model is deemed absolutely necessary then there is little to prevent the growth of an abusive marriage relationship. This form of abuse begins with a reversal of ends and means. This is seen in a marital relationship when one or both spouses cease to value the other as an end but begin to see the other as a means. To put this exchange in the terms of the 20th century Jewish philosopher Martin Buber: the I-Thou mode of relating becomes an I-It mode of relating. Describing this in greater depth Monica Fishbane writes, “the I-It mode entails seeing the other through the lens of one’s own needs or distortions […] I-It can take the form of abusive or exploitive relationships, in which the other is dealt with on the basis of desires and projections, regardless of the damage done to the other.” Conversely, an I-Thou mode of relating sees the other as an end in itself—there is no abusive functionality placed on the other. This reversal of ends and means—where a spouse is made the means—is abuse because, as alluded to above, the other becomes secondary and thus the other’s consciousness must be filtered through the primary (the given marital model) if the consciousness of the spouse is to receive validation. Contrary to this abusive mode of relating Buber tells us that, “Love does not cling to the ‘I’ in such a way as to have the thou only for its ‘content,’ its object […].” When a husband makes his wife the means to accomplishing an end—he reduces his marital relationship to abuse; he makes his wife merely functional “content.”
Of course it might be argued that this form of abuse is, perhaps, odd and only happens on occasion. Why would a couple actually care for a particular marital model, at least that much? There are, as I see it, two prominent and potential reasons for why this reversal might take place. The first might be our common desire to “fit in.” When a married couple is surrounded by a community that uniformly prizes a given model of marriage it becomes tempting for a spouse to implement that model without listening to the other’s not readily conformable particularities. The spouse is then relativized—made the means—for the sake of becoming like the surrounding community. From this it is indeed a small step to the abusive mode of relating mentioned in the prior paragraph. Further, it might be added, no particular model, be it hierarchical or egalitarian is free from this temptation; whether a wife privately belittles her husband for not living up to a standard of masculinity or a husband pushes his wife into the marketplace against her wishes, this abuse is no respecter of ideologies. Christ speaks to the heart of this matter, telling the Pharisees: “you justify yourselves in the eyes of men.” This desire to be justified among men subverts Christ’s call that the husband, and by extension the wife, “leave his father and mother and be united to his wife two […] become one flesh.” Christ’s call is one that draws the couple face to face in oneness rather than outwards with hopes of social justification.
This form of abuse might also surface if one or both spouses orient themselves around a given model of marriage hoping that it will provide a quality of marital life. While it is certainly good to have goals or aspirations within a marriage it is not advisable to seek out those goals at the expense of the marriage. This is important particularly with regard to marital goals, as they most directly involve the life of the other. Christian theology might describe this as “idolatry.” That is, when a Christian is oriented around a model or idea, and the Christian believes that the model or idea itself will, apart from the person Jesus Christ, provide a certain quality of life, then necessarily the Christian’s spiritual life with Christ suffers. Augustine articulates the root of this argument when in the City of God he writes “the better the objects of love, the better the community, the worse the object the worse the community.” He in essence is saying that whatever a community is oriented around determines the quality of life of that community. To further illustrate Augustine’s point we might contrast two scriptural passages. The first, from Deuteronomy, reads: “You must not [worship like the Canaanites] because they would even burn their sons and their daughters in the fire to their gods […];” the second passage from Acts reads: “All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.” While the Canaanites, because of their idolatry burnt their children; those who “believed” sold their possessions to distribute to all had “need”: true quality in life is found in allowing yourself to be oriented around Christ not around idols, be them fashioned from stone or a marital model.
Though the Bible certainly contains concepts and ideas even the most abstract meanderings are rooted in the flesh of real life. As Eugene Peterson has observed, “Biblical […] religion has a low tolerance for ‘great ideas’ or ‘sublime thoughts’ […] apart from the people and places in which they occur.” Thus far I have followed this line of thought arguing that abstractions should not be the sole determinant for how to “do marriage”. The late fiction writer Andre Dubus begins to illuminate another method rooted more in narrative and listening rather than abstract models; when describing an appointment he and his wife had with a marriage counselor, he writes,
What we did in the counselor’s office was tell stories. A good counselor won’t let you get by with the lack of honesty and commitment we bring to abstractions. And when we told these stories we discovered the truths that were their essence, that were the very reasons we needed to tell the stories; […] we did not know the truth of the stories until we told them.
Dubus’ counselor does not provide any certain model, or abstraction to implement; the counselor has Dubus’ and his wife tell stories. And, if we are to take Dubus as an honest man, it was in the telling and listening of their stories that a “truth” was discovered. This begins to suggest that the health of a marriage is not determined by how well an abstract model is actualized within a marriage, but rather by how much a spouse is listening to the other. In, perhaps, more popular terms: while abstract models call for a top-down approach: legislating models based upon generic ideas of personhood; a marital ethic of listening begins with a bottom down approach by listening to the other and allowing spouses to be their particular selves.
“Listening” then is what I propose as an alternative method to doing marriage. It is a relational metaphor rather than an abstract model, therefore it does not carry the baggage that models often do. Further, it is an ethic deeply rooted throughout the biblical landscape. Job cries out in confusion and pain, “Oh, that I had someone to hear me!” In the beginning of Exodus we are told that “God heard [Israel’s] groaning.” James encourages his readers to be, “quick to listen and slow to speak.” And in Revelation Jesus tells John, “If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in.” Though these texts do not talk about marriage specifically they do demonstrate the gravity the Bible gives to “hearing” and “listening” in multiple contexts, further they begin to provide a window through which we might better see the biblical landscape of listening. That is that they demonstrate that it is through “hearing” or “listening” that not merely a message, but oftentimes, those essential messages are communicated, or passed on. To examine this further I will look at Deuteronomy 6:4 in greater detail. In doing this I will also show how the biblical call to “hear” or “listen” can be viewed in relation to marriage.
Towards the beginning of Deuteronomy, in the fourth verse of the sixth chapter we read: “Hear, Oh Israel, the Lord your God is one God.” This statement is the crux of what is referred to as the shema—shema in fact meaning “to hear, or listen.” This exhortation became a central confession of the Jewish faith, by the 2nd century A.D. it was recited by the devout Jew every morning and evening. In the shema the call—“Hear, Oh Israel […]”—is a call to understand God’s essence; those faithful are called to “Hear” that “God is one.” So it is through Israel’s listening that they understand the fundamental essence of their God.
The marital life is not altogether different, for in marriages knowing the essence of the other is the fruit of listening. The example Andre Dubus’ gave us describes this: “And when we told these stories we discovered the truths that were their essence, that were the very reasons we needed to tell the stories; […] we did not know the truth of the stories until we told them.” As Dubus tells us it is through the interplay of talking and listening that an essence is conveyed. Much like the Israelites understanding God’s essence only after hearing, spouses can only begin to understand the other’s essence if they first hear or listen. Rowan Williams articulates this when he advocates for “[a] listening [that] tries to listen to the other relations in which the speaker stands.” He goes on describing what he means by the phrase, “other relations in which the speaker stands,” telling us that
Recognizing a soul is, […] recognizing the other you confront is already invested in […] other relations over which you have no control, is being made themselves by a complex of agents and factors. Listening to the other is listening for those others, for the communicative and symbolic world inhabited by the speaker.
While Williams is speaking specifically about the role a therapist should take, spouses also should be extremely sensitive to the “communicative and symbolic world” their spouse possesses. However, I would add that this sensitivity should always be checked with the trajectory of the Gospel—“sensitivity” should not be taken as affirming spiritual lethargy. Certainly the question of how to appropriate exhortation in a marriage is a difficult one, yet, for the married Christian couple it is a necessary one. Nevertheless, it is from listening that understanding flows and listening and understanding should always preclude any form of exhortation.
Through the rhythm of time spent listening to each other’s stories one begins to behold the other’s true essence, that is, the other in all of their complexities and mysteries. Monica Fishbane describes that, in part, a couple’s journey must move from “magic” to “mystery,” writing from a psychologist’s perspective she asserts: “The challenge is to help the couple move from their state of disenchantment with each other, not back to the innocent magic of their early time together, but rather toward a sense of mystery.” Fishbane goes on to describe that if one spouse relates to the other in terms of “resentment” or “magic” they are relating to the other through “projective identification”—one part of a spouse is blown out of proportion so as to hinder truly beholding the other. A marital ethic of listening allows for this movement from “magic to mystery” to take place, indeed it facilitates the movement by creating space for spouses to behold the other.
Further listening, as I have described it, teaches spouses to heed to the other. That is they are asked to “drop” their own programs, projects and expectations to engage with the other—rather than engaging primarily with the self. It is in this heeding and listening that the other becomes whole, becomes “mystery.” Further, as might be expected, this heeding is mutual; both spouses must listen, both spouses must share themselves. About this Buber writes, “Only he who himself turns to the other human being and opens himself to him receives the world in him. Only the being whose otherness, accepted by my being, lives and faces me in the whole compression of existence, brings the radiance of eternity to me.” It is in the heeding to the other, submitting to the other’s voice, that the essence of the other is discovered as a whole person, as a “mystery.” Yet, there is of course a tension to hold here; while the whole self is in fact “mystery” scripture teaches us that the self is also bottomless in its consumptive and inverted qualities. So there is of course a tight rope walk—there must be balance between the inward impulse in a marriage, that which draws spouses together in rest, and an outward impulse that brings them out—oftentimes together—to simply be Christians in the world.
It is about this heeding that I believe Paul is speaking about when he tells the Ephesians, “Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ.” However, Paul’s last three words are of extreme importance; submission is because “of reverence for Christ.” For while during periods of infatuation it may feel easy to heed to the voice of a spouse, conversely (and perhaps this is more often the case) it is easy to develop a rhythm of avoiding intimacy. Much of the time we are angry, busy, or too self-involved to heed to the other in listening. But Paul tells us that our submission to the other should be out “of reverence for Christ.” The placement of a reference point outside of the spouse issues a call to another heeding. This form of heeding, or “reverence,” is interrelated to the heeding we engage in with our spouse. For example, our reverence for Christ, our heeding to him, is articulated by our willingness to heed to the other. In this light the married life is pointed at the transformation of essence; and this interrelated heeding helps a married couple develop a mutual trajectory out of the bottomlessness of self –a trajectory oriented towards Christ.
The Orthodox theologian Vigen Guroian articulates a helpful distinction between “privacy” and “intimacy” which further elucidates what I mentioned above as interrelated heeding. Guroian maintains that while “privacy has gotten defined as an objective sphere away from the public. Intimacy connotes no such division of life into two spheres.” Surely a married couple needs privacy, listening in fact warrants it, yet the Pauline end of mutual submission is “out of reverence for Christ.” Therefore we must again discern a balance between our outward and inward impulses. And it is because of this need for discernment that Guroian’s distinction is helpful. Our call to be “in the world” is not one that calls us from our spouse; “intimacy” can exist with our outward impulse, although “privacy” cannot. More simply, the call outward need not be a solitary call outward. Guroian articulates this ecclesial nature of marriage when he writes,
Like a monastic community, marriage is an institution with a purpose which transcends the personal goals or purposes of those who enter into it. It is an upbuilding of the Church in service to the Kingdom. Marriage is not only something which happens to the individuals who are wed and the children which they bear by the grace of God. Marriage is something which happens in and to the whole Church.
Guroian does not mean that spouses deprive themselves of the other. Rather he is arguing that a married couple remains kingdom oriented in a non-kingdom oriented world. The husband and wife should be face to face in submitting “to each other out of reverence for Christ” therefore receiving a fuller understanding of the other’s essence, and from there assist in the process of essence transformation of the other so that they allow their relationship, home, and wider community to become, as Chrysostom put it, “Christ’s general receptacle.”
Author and poet Jill Patterson asks us “[…] who among us cannot see that [Jesus] understands how mercy comes when we least deserve it, how God grants leniency as he sees fit, how sometimes divorce is the same thing as grace.” Surely, one understands her sentiment. Indeed, there are often times when marriages do exist within the cold rhythms of criticism and amongst calcified hearts. Under those circumstances, knocking down the doors that vows have locked may indeed appear to be the only way to freedom. But I also am reminded of Jesus who told his listeners that Moses permitted them divorce because “[their] hearts were hard.” And I am also reminded of how scripture teaches us that a hardened heart is unable to hear, or listen. It is only through listening that we are able to break up the calcification around our hearts, the hardness that prevents us from listening in the first place. This is what I have advocated for throughout this paper, that is, the primacy of a marital ethic of listening. In doing this I have described the insufficiency of the abstract marital model, and I have demonstrated the gravity the Bible itself gives to listening generally, and by extension within the marital life. I have also showed how listening, as a marital ethic, both draws spouses towards the other, and beyond the other towards their God.

Diligence and Reliance

2007-09-19T14:46:00.000-04:00

Almost weekly, I write in my school's Home Bulletin a short letter or encouragement to the school family. I'll share a few of them.

Welcome to the 2007-2008 school year at ECS! God has given us a new year to glorify him! I am thankful that after all the thought and preparation put in by the staff, students, and parents for this year, it has finally begun. Relying on His grace, we are ready to work diligently for Him, throughout this year and in everything that we do here at school.
That is how things work here. We rely on His grace every day, in all things that we attempt, in all things that we work at, in all things that we face. By his grace he has given us Jesus, who works everything out for his glory and our good. So in our weakness we rely on him for everything we need and for everything this school needs.
At the same time, and because we have received his grace, we work diligently. Our work is not an attempt to gain favor or to impress God. We work because God has already worked in our lives. God loves us so much- we saw that at the cross- and there is no way to make him love us more. This causes our work to come from joy and gratitude to God, not from fear of disappointing Him. Our diligence comes from the grace that God has given us in Christ. We always rely on his grace, and then joyfully work in the task of education that he has called us to.
Parents, rely on Him in your home, as you seek to raise Godly children. Teachers, rely on Him in your classroom, teaching them to read and write, and think and share. Students, rely on Him in your friendships and in your homework, in your recesses and in your class time. Pray for each other that we might be able to do these tasks. This year let us all rely on his grace in everything that he brings to us, and let us work diligently in the vocations where he has called us, for his glory.

Wrong Link

2007-06-17T16:34:00.000-04:00

In the previous post, the link for Village Church should be this: http://www.thevillagechurch.net/index.html
not the one in South Holland, MI
Sorry

We are God's Workmanship

2007-06-08T19:40:00.000-04:00

I pushed Bryan's post of a more personal nature a little bit further down the page, I hope that any visitors will still scroll down to check it out. I am the other contributer to Quest, some would call me the brains behind the operation, and most would call me Matt. Bryan calls me friend.
I have been leading a study on Ephesians for the past year, and the previous post is part of a summary that was put together so we could review a lot of material at once. Anyways, the main thing that has struck me is the two halves of Ephesians. Chapters 1-3 are exclusively about God's work on our behalf. There is only one imperative, found in 2:11, "remember". And in chapters 4-6, there are over 90 imperatives for us. It is a good reminder, that our work always follows God's work, that we must never try to "do" Ephesians 4-6, without our minds and hearts firmly rooted in the gospel, in God's story of salvation in Eph. 1-3.
Ephesians 2:10 is my favorite example of this: "For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do."

A Summary of Ephesians 4:17-6:9

2007-06-08T19:31:00.000-04:00

(from a study by matt)

No longer walk as the Gentiles do,

in futility of mind,

in darkened understanding,

alienated from the (Trinitarian) life of God,

in ignorance,

in hardness of heart,

given up to sensuality,

corrupt through over-desires,

NO! You have learned Christ, the truth that is in Jesus,

SO, put off the old man,

be renewed in the spirit of your minds,

then put on the new self,

you will become truly righteous and holy in God’s image once again!

This new image pleases the Holy Spirit (and does not grieve him) by:

Speaking the truth, because we belong to each other

Getting angry but does not sin or let anger last more than a day

Not stealing, but trusting and works, and gives.

Building people up with words that are not corrupt.

Giving grace to those around.

Putting away all bitterness, wrath, clamor, slander, and malice.

Being kind to others.

Forgiving each other tenderheartedly.

Yes, this new image is truly an imitation of God.

Because we are beloved children,

and because Christ loved us and gave himself up for us,

we will walk in love.

We will have no part in idolatry, in any form, because our inheritance is in the kingdom of Christ and God:

We will not be sexually immoral, impure, covetous, filthy-mouthed, or unthankful.

Some people make excuses for this behavior, but we know that these things bring God’s wrath.

We will not associate with such people, walking in the darkness.

We will walk as children of light-

the light that makes fruits of goodness, righteousness, and truth.

And so our pursuit will be finding out what pleases the Lord.

When people see the fruit of the light that shines from Christ in us,

their deeds will be exposed,

and we pray that they will rise from death,

and Christ will shine on them too.

Yes, in our new image we will be wise:

God the Father has made his eternal purposes and wisdom our guide.

We will walk with Him.

God the Holy Spirit fills us and makes the worship of our lives from the heart.

We will sing to each other and to the Lord with all of our hearts.

God the Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, is our access to this life of God.

We will be thankful always and for everything in his name.

Among all the saints there will be mutual submission out of reverence for Christ.

We will be full of love:

gentle

listening

servants

humble

In those ways:

Wives will submit to husbands,

Husbands will love their wives,

in the knowledge that their love should be like Christ’s love for his Church,

and that marriage is a beautiful signpost and tangible example

to the world of the union of Christ with his people.

Children will honor and obey their parents,

this is their way of living out their new image.

Parents will not provoke their children to anger,

they will instead bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.

Slaves will obey their masters,

just like they obey Christ, from the heart and not just to be seen.

Masters, you will treat your slaves the way you would want to be treated,

for God is an impartial judge.

Am I Really Ready for Theology?

2007-06-01T17:41:00.000-04:00

I've been asking myself the above question for a while now. The answer, provisional as it is, is no. Too often, whether pouring over Augustine, reading a commentary by Calvin, or catching up on something more recent, I skim over the word "God". If not that, I fall in love with the concept of Jesus as...(fill in the new stylized theological term) while forgetting the intimate nature he has as my savior. What this tells me about myself is that I have a propensity for loving facts, or gaining knowledge. This of course is not bad, but when I don't remember that words like "Jesus" and "God" correspond to real people, real relationships, I end up missing the whole point of the theology, that being: worship.

This ended up being a lot more personal than planned. I think it applies to many more than me though, and perhaps it'll be helpful.