on the Wright something

When thinking about the earlier post on Wright's seeming confusion, I tried to think about how I would reconcile the ideas he (and others) are presenting. I hope that this post will point out where the disconnect lies and why, as far as disconnects go, it's not that bad.

From my vantage point, it seems that there are at least 2 basic stories of the Christian life. The first says that by our baptism and Spirit-filling we have been united into Christ's death (judgment) and resurrection (salvation). As such, we are right now living the "saved" life. We are living in the midst of resurrection, of redemption, of salvation.

The second points out that, at the same time, we're not there yet. We look around ourselves (and even at ourselves) and don't see salvation. We don't see that perfect image of God's kingdom for which we hope. From this story, one would say that our sufferings, pains, and all the rest are actually joined into Christ's passion. Our sufferings link us to his sufferings.

Now both of these stories has problems. At the most basic level, the first seems naively optimistic, the latter deeply scary. And yet I think both have a good amount of warrant within the Christian tradition. We are there. We have been joined to the Godhood (or as one guy told me a few weeks ago, the "perichoretic flow of the Trinity"), a process called "theosis" in the Orthodox tradition and simply "sanctification" in the western forms. At the same time, our lives rarely reflect the beautiful life of the Spirit in community, or lush greenery of Eden reborn. Sometimes (most of the time in Wisconsin) you're left with gray skies that could do with a healthy dose of life. We're not there. We sometimes see little but a pit of deep dark despair (if you're struggling in this way, know that that dark despair is you looking at the cross) and hate everything when we look in a mirror.

I don't know yet how precisely I'd go about "reconciling" such stories, or even if such a reconciliation is necessary. But both are here.

So how do I want to make sense of Wright's statement on our deaths dealing with sin? Looking to story #2, I think we could say that just as our sufferings connect to Christ's sufferings, so our deaths connect to Christ's death. This would still leave the salvific, atoning qualities solely with the uniting to Christ (via the Spirit) himself while acknowledging that the act of dying in and of itself doesn't rid us of our previous sin and automatically transform us into perfection.

Salvation: Knowing the Truth

This article in First Things gives an excellent big picture look of the history of soteriology, seen through the eyes of the Roman Catholic Church. The whole thing is good, but I want to ramble on this bit about Karl Rahner.

One of the most interesting developments in post-conciliar theology has been Karl Rahner’s idea of “anonymous Christians.” He taught that God offers his grace to everyone and reveals himself in the interior offer of grace. Grace, moreover, is always mediated through Christ and tends to bring its recipients into union with him. Those who accept and live by the grace offered to them, even though they have never heard of Christ and the gospel, may be called anonymous Christians.

Although Rahner denied that his theory undermined the importance of missionary activity, it was widely understood as depriving missions of their salvific importance. Some readers of his works understood him as teaching that the unevangelized could possess the whole of Christianity except the name. Saving faith, thus understood, would be a subjective attitude without any specifiable content. In that case, the message of the gospel would have little to do with salvation.

Here's my analogy. Imagine that salvation is eating dinner. You sit down at the table, request the steak, which is promptly passed, pull our your knife and fork, and slice away (my apologies to vegetarians out there, but I like eating meat).

Imagine that a thick fog fills the room so that you cannot see anything. You walk in, tripping over someone else's foot, bumbling to find something to eat (poking yourself and many others in the eye), ending up with a plate of something that's as likely to be the plant from the middle of the table as it is to be food.

Some people would be horror stricken if it were thought that any true Christian could possibly entertain the notion that unevangelized people (those who haven't heard) could be "saved". After all, wouldn't such a theology destroy any need for missions?

Now think of my foggy dinner analogy. There might be one man who walks in, comfortably sits down to a plate of food, happens to pick up the right instruments, and proceeds to enjoy a wonderfully tasty (though probably not peaceful, with all those bumblers around him) meal. Why does he need evangelizing? Now imagine that the fog is cleared away and he sees clearly for the first time. Who's going to claim that that act is useless?

This isn't to say that I agree with Rahner's conclusions or theology in the least. What I am saying is that even if Rahner's wrong, it's not because his theology opposes missions.

Knowing the truth doesn't mean you're gonna act appropriately. Two men emerge from the fog and see the table. One man sees a knife and plunges it into his steak. Another man sees the knife and plunges it into his wife. Both men saw clearly and yet only one man understood.

Exporting schism

This is just painful to read.

via Leithart.com

During the 19th century, various European states forcibly united divided churches. A similar thing happened in Zaire in 1970. Mbiti writes, "the Eglise du Christ au Zaire . . . brought together Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, Disciples and a host of other Protestant traditions." The Church of Christ became the only recognized Protestant body in Zaire, but "the member churches (or Communautes, as they are called) have much freedom to function more or less according to their former traditions."

Mbiti is not sure this is good for the church, but he suggests that Zaire might send a warning that "if church leaders and decision makers are slow to consummate unions ecclesiastically and theologically, governments may take the leads and demand unity among the churches or even enforce it politically and administratively."

Despite his doubts, he says that if this happens "I shall not be the first to shed tears over it."

Lord, pour your grace upon us, make us to grow in you, and fill us with the Spirit, that we may mature into your deliverers of your gospel, of your justice, that we may begin the cleanup of the messes we continue to make.

...and you thought that Jesus Camp was scary?

See what the Islamic version looks like.

I confess...

Recently, there has been a 'confessions' meme circulating the internet that looks to be really interesting. Though I'm still somewhat unsure as to its broader purpose, it does seem to do a good job clarifying the various influences, speculations, and approaches that impinge upon our Christian thinking (and upon the thinking Christian).

I confess that I believe orthopraxy trumps orthodoxy (right living > right thinking), even though I spend much more time on the latter.

I confess that I really don't understand or practice discipline...[yet].

I confess that most of my theological influences have been from high church, paedobaptist, Real Presence, reformed and Roman Catholic thinkers.

I confess that much of my theology is probably more Wright than right, and possibly more Chestertonian than Chalecedonian.

I confess that I want to be filled with joy and hope much more than my face or my heart normally shows.

I confess that academic rigor often seems more trustworthy than common sense (which is often both uncommon and nonsensical).

I confess that I probably read more blogs and electronic essays than I do real books.

I confess that, in my view, denominations tend to be tendentious. For the most part, they seem to distract us from God's purposes in the world so we can focus our energies on clarifying the differences between us and them. It has turned many well-meaning, thoughtful Christians into heresy-hunters who care more about being right than spreading the gospel.

I confess that I make up most of my arguments on the spot...and then promptly forget them.

I confess that I know virtually nothing of anabaptist thought.

I confess that I'm fed more from Bible studies, random discussions, and radio programs than from going to church on the Lord's day.

I confess that my attempts to defend, empower, and extol church fellowship are more of an effort to convince myself than to convince others.

I confess that most of my deeply rooted friendships (aside from family relationships) are not rooted in the church.

I confess that, in my life, the workings of the Spirit are shrouded mysteries, and I tend to mistrust those who think the Spirit is simple and clear.

I confess that I don't know if pacifism is a proper part of the Christian life.

Gospel note

Today, I delved into a few of the drawers in my room, discovering a few jottings that I lost over time.

Jesus is true representative of Israel. As king (and/or priest?), he sums up [represents] his people.

His crucifixion demonstrated victory of the powers over Israel (Judgment). This was turned around when he was raised from the dead (God vindicates him as true Lord of the world). For us to be justified before God [ie declared righteous at the coming judgment], we must be in Jesus Christ (death and resurrection) [thus baptism, like Israel going through Red Sea]. We know that we are in him when the Spirit (our guide in this wilderness and downpayment on the resurrected life) is within us [faith, as fruit of Spirit, confirms this]. This is the guarantee that our own resurrection will reflect his own.

The continuing Christian life is fed and strengthened by the act of remembering God's saving work via judgment [thus communion (or Eucharist), like Passover]. We see this as the Spirit's other fruits live within us [these confirm the fulfillment of God's law within our lives and our continuity with those who are in Christ] as we tromp towards the New Creation.

Whaddaya think?

on "On Earth as in Heaven"

from NT Wright

Here is the paradox of Christian political theology, a paradox which the western church has all but ignored for many years, assuming that the main object of the game was to forget earth and concentrate on heaven instead. Precisely because we believe that Jesus Christ has been exalted to heaven, into God’s space, so that he can be present to the whole earth simultaneously (not so that he can be absent from it – heaven forbid!), and so that he can be its rightful Lord, we believe that the church has a responsibility, not to usurp the proper and God-given functions of governments and authorities, of magistrates and officers, but to support them in prayer and to remind them of what they are there for – and to point out when they’re getting it wrong. God has established authorities in the world, as part of the goodness of creation, because without them the bullies and the malevolent would always get away with it. But the problem of evil includes the problem that the people who are supposed to be keeping evil in check may themselves become part of the problem instead of part of the solution.

That’s why, in early Christianity and Judaism, those who believe in God’s kingdom coming on earth as in heaven are not particularly concerned with how rulers get to be rulers. They are not going around campaigning for an early form of parliamentary democracy. They are extremely concerned with what rulers do once they become rulers, knowing that a bad ruler is worse than an ordinary bad person, because their evil is becoming part of the system. And so the church, at its most characteristic from that day to this, in hailing Jesus as the ascended Lord, doesn’t declare a plague on all other lords in the sense of advocating a kind of holy anarchy, or a straightforward theocracy. But the church claims the right, in invoking Jesus as Lord, to challenge the systems of corruption that dehumanize people and enslave them, and to remind the powers that be of what their duty actually is.

Only the Holy Spirit is allowed to "immanentize the eschaton".

Unity

Tonight I was talking with (actually, it was probably more 'to' him) a young brother about the idea of unity in the church. I told him that I thought unity was absolutely fundamental, even to the point of saying that I would rather there be physical fights in the midst of the church over doctrinal issues rather than the unity be broken (unless that unity has been broken by the denial of Jesus' Lordship...unforgivable sin?...we can talk about that later). After saying this, I started talking about some of Paul's letters where, I think, his major point is that of unity: Romans, 1 Corinthians, Galatians, and James (though I'm not far enough through James to say for sure). Here is my own cartoonish breakdown of the points of each letter:

1. Romans (cf Rom 15:1-7) - We are justified by faith (and not by circumcision, etc...) and should therefore act as the unified whole by being 'in Christ' (especially by taking part in his suffering for the sake of each other).
2. 1 Corinthians (cf 1 Cor 1:10-13) - Acting 'in Christ' means acting in the full knowledge and hope of our own resurrection (see 1 Cor 15), guaranteed by his own (notice that this resurrection implies action in verse 58).
3. Galatians (cf Gal 2-3, especially Peter's sin in 2:12) - Justification by faith directly implies that our fellowship, that our sharing of communion, that our unity is demonstrated (guaranteed?) by our faith, not by our circumcision.
4. James - This implication must be carried out (you can't just say that we are unified, you must do it), whether it means sitting by the lowly in church (Ja 2) or teaching wisely and carefully in church (Ja 3) leading to wisdom with peace and without partiality (very unifying characteristics, I must say).

Afterwards, another brother came up and thought that I may be emphasizing unity too much (kind of like saying, 'it's all about love' or 'it's all about peace'). Here I had to both agree and disagree. I agree that unity is a common theme because it plays a key role in the common story, so it comes up again and again. But, in another way I disagreed, wanting to say that these letters were written to church's in the explicit hope that they would be unified in Christ. The incarnation might crop up again and again (Christian metaphysics?), love might be all over the place (Christian ethics?), and peace is quite common (Christian aesthetics?), but this doesn't mean that they're all the same thing.

Ok, this is all to get to another point, namely that of authority. Earlier, I had suggested to brother #1 that authority exists because of unity. Let me explain, I think that the reason only clergy (elders, priests, whatever) should give the Eucharistic meal is that they are the focal point for what brings that particular group of people together. They are the closest thing we get to true unity in the local church. As such, the meal that is all about that unity (remember Galatians) of the church should really be given by the symbol of that unity. We should also remember the whole heresy of Donatism, which says (from my ver limited perspective) that the effectiveness of the sacraments is not based on the moral quality of the person giving it. In other words, it's the position that matters, not the minister. For Protestants who are uncomfortable with this, think about wisdom that you get from preaching; is the wisdom not from God (or less so) if the minister is in sin? If you accept this, then it gets a little bit easier see that the priest or elder or whatever is acting in personae Christi (I probably spelled that wrong), not because he is granted this authority from the eldership (or another ruling council), but because he is the acting as the unifying factor of a particular community that is 'in Christ'.

Finally, then, we can start to see a bit more clearly our own roles in the body of Christ stem from this unity, which sees other roles in the body of Christ besides teachers (1 Cor 12). And I know this might seem frightening to some TULIP-ists, but it also demonstrates that it is possible for us to act outside of our own particular roles within the community. At these times, we are not acting 'in Christ' (under his Kingly rule) but under our own. But at the same time, he has taken those times that we have strayed from his rule via his representational role as King (see the Old Testament, what happens to the king happens to the people and vice versa), was crucified and was then vindicated. As long as we remain within his people, we are promised the same vindication, the same resurrection after we are judged before the throne. How do we know we are his people? I'm not as sure about this part, but I think we recognize this in ourselves and in each other by faith (see Romans) giving us assurance of a favorable judgment (thusly suggesting Rom 10:12-13) though something about the Spirit's fruit and the sacraments (specifically baptism and the Eucharist) might also be suggested, but also definitively meaning that we will act in love, fulfilling the law and thusly receiving the favorable judgment.

Sorry, I know this is rather jumbled, but I though the whole thing about acting out our own unifying positions (known via our gifts) in the church (and thusly in the kingdom), correlating to elders/priests acting out their own unifying roles, as a source of ethics/ecclesiology was pretty darn interesting. Thoughts...?

Where does morality come from?

From FIRST THINGS on Alister MacIntyre

Indeed, one of the chapters of After Virtue is entitled "Nietzsche or Aristotle?"-for moral philosophy boils down to emotivism or teleology.

The best thing is that we, as Christians, have a teleology (or in other terms, an eschatology, an end, a purpose, a goal) and thusly a morality. You can find it in the first of Paul's letters to the Corinthians.

But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died. For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ.

...

When this perishable body puts on imperishability, and this mortal body puts on immortality, then the saying that is written will be fulfilled:

‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’

‘Where, O death, is your victory?

Where, O death, is your sting?’

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.



Therefore, my beloved, be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that in the Lord your labour is not in vain.

A New Kind of Calvinism

The theology of a comic strip. ...
Source: http://feeds.christianitytoday.com/~r/christianitytoday/books/~3/90305487/dispatch.html

on Eucharist

What role does the Eucharist play in the life of the Church?

It seems that the many churches that enact closed communion believe that communion is a sign of church unity. Christians who attend other churches are not able to partake in the Eucharist in this situation because they are not considered to be in union with the church that is providing it. I know there are also reasons having to do with individual purity and such concerns (Paul goes into these in 1 Corinthians), but to be honest, this doesn't seem like a convincing argument unless you are willing to say that members of your church have attained that height of purity and that in restricting communion to them alone, you are in a sense protecting others from their own impurity. This seems arrogant to me...but maybe I'm muddled on this.

What interests me, though, is the church unity argument. If I grant that the Lord's Supper is integral to church unity (as I believe that it is), I still struggle with the actual role that it plays. The closed communion position seems to see it as a sign of unity. But I wonder if the Eucharist is actually the source of our unity. If it is actually partaking of Christ's body and thusly becoming one with him and the righteousness of God (God's covenant faithfulness) and our own resurrection in his glory, then the Eucharist is more than the simple outworking of the church's unity. It is in the eating that the church is unified.

Epistemic Humility

If only we all could interpret the Bible (and the world) with such humility as Wright describes in this interview.

I think if Luther or Calvin were asked, “Should we have always taken your words on Scripture as final, or should we go back and read Scripture carefully, prayerfully, historically, and lexicographically for ourselves, and if we find that you were wrong on some things, who should we follow?” they would say, without missing a beat: “Follow Scripture, and leave our traditions as monuments to our best efforts.” And I hope those who read me in generations to come will do the same.

on Image of God

In a brilliant Books and Culture article, one of my Wabash professors finds some sparkling thoughts on the imago Dei (and enlightens some rather dim ones).

In the ancient Near East, it was common for kings to set up statues of themselves as a symbol of their rule. These statues—or images—were a reminder that the physical absence of the king did not prevent his exercise of power. Middleton argues that the author of Genesis both draws from and subverts this practice by democratizing the idea of a king's image. Genesis portrays all humans as "God's living cult statues on earth."
...
He argues that Genesis is "intentionally subversive literature" because it allows ordinary people to be "significant participants in the historical process." The imago Dei thus grounds Israel's egalitarian social organization prior to the monarchy. Middleton even goes so far as to suggest that the Protestant doctrine of the priesthood of all believers can be found, in latent form, in the imago Dei. If this seems like a stretch, his discussion of idolatry is theologically illuminating. The most fundamental problem with idolatry, he suggests, is not that it imbues something physical with divine power, but that it diminishes the honor of the idol worshipers, who should not be so quick to give up their own status as representatives of the divine.

Middleton's analysis thus comes full circle to his own multicultural biography. God's response to the Tower of Babel is especially significant, he argues, because it demonstrates how God intended for political power to be diffuse rather than consolidated by imperial ambition. The scattering of Babel's population should be interpreted as redemptive, not punitive. For Middleton, Genesis shows us how we are liberated from all forms of oppressive authority because God has chosen to share his authority with us.

This seems like a big burden to me. Why would we want to exercise some of God's power? Middleton suggests that God takes a big risk in inviting us to share his power, and of course, if God did that, Middleton would be right. Most ancient theologians locate human liberation in our submission to divine rule, which is utterly trustworthy and serenely imperturbable, but Middleton reverses this relationship. We can trust God because he trusts us.
...
The imago Dei assures us that there is an essential correlation between humanity and God that guarantees our basic intuitions into God's nature. We can properly imagine that God is like us because we are like God. In a world saturated with images, we are the only images that count, and we count only because we were made according to the specifications of someone else.

on Healing and Community

During one of Mark Moore's lectures on hermeneutics, he discusses some of the cultural differences between Second Temple Judaism culture (think New Testament times here) and today. One of the differences he highlights is that of healing.


Listen to 34:30 to 35:35 (emphasis my own)

[Today], healing is about the removal of pain from your body. That is not what healing is about. Because most people have multiple things wrong with them. In Kenya, there's a lot of people sick. A lot more than here, I would imagine. And if you don't have access to medical attention, you might want a cure for one ailment, but it's really beyond people's imagination or expectation that they would live a pain-free physical life. You have the luxury of making that assumption. The people in the Bible did not. So when they talked about healing, it was not the removal of pain from the body, it was the removal of uncleanness that separated you from your community, whether that was leprosy, or blindness, or deafness, or muteness, or an unclean issue of blood, or demon possession. Are you understanding what I'm saying here? That culturally you have some middle class assumptions that cause you to read the Bible in a certain way.

Why is this interesting? Recently, one of my Bible Studies have been discussing the gospel as shown in Mark. It's helpful to remember that the healings weren't about Jesus demonstrating how big and powerful he was so that everyone would run after him. And this quotation from Mr Moore's lecture nicely portrays that. The healings are about the restoration of Israel that are taking place right underneath their unsuspecting noses. And a true restoration of the people of God means a restoration of the people to God.

It also gives us a framework for understanding the Gospel as demonstrated in Paul (see NT Wright's discussion of the Gospel in Galatians).The return of the King means the restoration of Israel and the whole world (Thusly, Is 40-55). The healings are restoring the people's physical states (whole world), but only insofar as they are restoring community (Israel).

Perhaps this would also make sense of Mark 6:5. A community that denied the restorative center of the gospel (ie that Jesus is King) would not be able to partake in the restorative effects thereof (though it does say that he was able to do a few healings). I don't know. Just some thoughts...

Note: Also see JollyBlogger's mention of Wright's discussion of this same topic:

For a first-century Jew, most if not all the works of healing, which form the bulk of Jesus' mighty works, could be seen as the restoration to membership in Israel of those who, through sickness or whatever, had been excluded as ritually unclean. The healings thus function in exact parallel with the welcome of sinners, and this, we may be quite sure, was what Jesus himself intended. He never performed mighty works simply to impress. He saw them as part of the inauguration of the sovereign and healing rule of Israel's covenant god.

attachment to material 'stuff'

Here are a few thoughts I had about a year ago, threw into an impromptu email and promptly forgot.  Whether they make sense or not, I figured I'd get 'em out there so they don't keep cluttering up my mind in the meantime.  Note that they are in no way complete.  Please criticize, point out gaffs or slap me around where it could be useful.  Thanks.
---------------
Is rejection of excess worldly things necessarily virtuous?

No, because some worldly things can be virtuous (ie music, art, etc) even though they don't serve a direct purpose to my personal survival.

Are those examples necessarily virtuous?

No, because when we lose focus of the world and start to lose our humanity (I know this is a rather ambiguous idea, but hopefully, I'll talk a little more about it later), it makes less of what we have, not more.

How can we see the difference?

I think that the key (at least in the area of art) is inspiration.  When the excess 'stuff' inspires you, spurs you on to better living, character and virtue, it would obviously a good thing.

Outside of art, though the goal is the same, the wording would obviously be different.  For example, if I buy a better bed, I should be asking why I am doing it?  Is it because it might help me sleep better?  This would certainly be leading toward those positive goals.  Or is my old bed just not 'cool' enough (obviously there are more examples and relative questions, but I wanted to display the differences between possible lines of reasoning to demonstrate there can be a difference).

Obviously, this email has turned into a free thinking excercise, so I'd like to throw out some thoughts from Wendell Berry, Kentuckian philosopher and agrarian. 

Improper specialization is when workers cannot communicate and therefore lose touch with the purpose of the whole thing they are creating together

( http://virtual.clemson.edu/groups/dial/lap101/university/notesberry.html )

Though this thought (a quotation from a summary of one of Mr Berry's works) falls in the context of the overspecialization of education, I believe it has some relevance to the current conversation.  Ultimately, material things can get in the way when we "cannot communicate" and lose site of our goals.  Though this might seem like an odd idea to transfer into the world of material stuff, I think we can make sense of it by thinking of the consequences of said material things on our relationships with other people.  Buying a robot to fix my computer would be really nice, but would I lose that relationship with my "computer-fix-it-guy"? 

Mr Berry elaborates on this thought more extensively in his "Why I am not going to buy a computer" essay and develops a set of criteria for setting his limits when obtaining new technologies:

1. The new tool should be cheaper than the one it replaces.
2. It should be at least as small in scale as the one it replaces.
3. It should do work that is clearly and demonstrably better than the one it replaces.
4. It should use less energy than the one it replaces.
5. If possible, it should use some form of solar energy, such as that of the body.
6. It should be repairable by a person of ordinary intelligence, provided that he or she has the necessary tools.
7. It should be purchasable and repairable as near to home as possible.
8. It should come from a small, privately owned shop or store that will take it back for maintenance and repair.
9. It should not replace or disrupt anything good that already exists, and this includes family and community relationships.

Though helpful, many of these are formed from Mr Berry's thoughts on enviornmental impact and, depending on your understanding of virtue/vice, may or may not be helpful to this discussion.  But I think #9 directly hits on the point I set out above.

Of course, this line of reasoning leads us to asking possibly convicting questions (or inane ones if you don't care for the idea of communities) about our about current relationships with the members of our community, but that's a bigger question for some other time.
 
This thought is also a specification of the more general question "What are the consequences thereof?"  Asking this question about each new material 'thing' would probably be a good place to start when discussing the virtue of said things.  Obviously, though, since people's circumstances and characters differ from place to place, from culture to culture, the consequences of the acquisition of things will be different from place to place.  Also, the things themselves will also change as such.  The morality of these choices will thusly be equivalently relative.

1Cor 4:7
7 For who sees anything different in you? ^F19 What do you have that you did not receive? And if you received it, why do you boast as if it were not a gift?

1Cor 6:12,19-20
12 "All things are lawful for me," but not all things are beneficial. "All things are lawful for me," but I will not be dominated by anything.
...
19 Or do you not know that your body is a temple ^F29 of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own? 20 For you were bought with a price; therefore glorify God in your body.

27 but I discipline ^F102 my ^R359 body and make it my slave, so that, after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified.

Making our 'stuff' our slave, instead of being a slave thereto.

Why Study History?

I do not think there is anything stupid or ignorant about howling at the moon or being afraid of devils in the dark. It seems to me perfectly philosophical. Why should a man be thought a sort of idiot because he feels the mystery and peril of existence itself? Suppose, my dear Chadd, suppose it is we who are the idiots because we are not afraid of devils in the dark?
-The Club of Queer Trades by GK Chesterton

Because so few understand this very point. Reading history is one powerful way of letting that odd and uncomfortable wind of reality cleanse you of the deadening effects of modernism. Be afraid, be unsure, be angry, be humbled, be human. This, in my view, is the starkest challenge for Christians today. How can we tell people who've forgotten what real food tastes like about the mighty feast of Jesus Christ? How do we tell people who've given up on living about the great Life?

Links on Wisdom

Bill Wilder on The Royal Significance and the Tree of Wisdom:

This understanding of wisdom should make it clear that there is no reason to think that the knowledge of good and evil was wrong in and of itself. On the contrary, wisdom belongs to kings, not least to those intended from the moment of their creation to be ‘‘images of God,’’ ruling as God’s vice regents over the earth. Thus, there is every reason to believe that the enjoyment of both trees was part of God’s intended destiny for man as it relates to creation, for everything in earth was made for man. Indeed, the ‘‘tree of wisdom’’ belonged with the tree of life in the center of the garden precisely because, in line with numerous passages in Scripture, wisdom and life belong together. Wisdom, if exercised properly and in accordance with God’s commands, leads to life:‘‘she is a tree of life to those who lay hold of her’’(Prov3:18). Unfortunately, Adam and Eve anticipated the example of Solomon rather than his proverb. They acquired royal wisdom and authority—of a sort, but failed in their most basic obligation to honor God as their liege lord and king.

He also discusses the various implications ("moral, aesthetic, and sensual") of wisdom and the largely royal context in which it lives.

Scot McKnight lays out his own attempt at defining wisdom from Ps 119. Here's my favorite (ie most convicting) part:

Wisdom leads to “sound moral judgment”: wisdom includes knowledge (cognition) but always goes beyond cognition to doing good and to doing what is right.

on Original Sin

I've been noticing verses that don't seem to match up with my own understanding of original sin (note: either my understanding or the tradition itself might be off). Check these out:

Deu 1:39

Moreover your little ones, who you said would become a prey, and your children, who this day have no knowledge of good or evil, shall go in there, and to them I will give it, and they shall possess it.

Isa 7:16

For before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted.

Heb 5:14

But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their faculties trained by practice to distinguish good from evil.

Each of these suggest that discernment between good an evil (a la Gen 2:17) does not exist before some development of maturity.

Ps 51:5, on the other hand, seems to suggest that we're born in a state of sin.

Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me.

Now the traditional solution (I think) is to say that sin doesn't depend on awareness. However, as the Deuteronomy passage describes, it seems like the effects of sin do. The children of Israel (who don't know 'good or evil') are allowed to enter the land even though the adults may not.

NetFuture #166

Here's a piece on the alienation of experimenters from their experiment.

We do not need to choose between arbitrary manipulation on the one hand and the pretense that we can live without affecting the destiny of our fellow creatures on the other. No living organism can exist in perfect isolation. Between the detachment of cold manipulation and that of disconnection lies another option: responsible engagement. That is, we can enter into mutually respectful conversation with the other inhabitants of the Earth. Just as we unavoidably influence the people around us and are shaped by them, so it is with all creatures on the planet.
...
Yet given the apparent disinterest of scientists in what animals can tell us, it is no surprise that the cow itself has more or less disappeared from our scientific and commercial calculations. Nor is it a surprise that we can say little about the wisdom or folly of a pharmed goat or re-engineered salmon. We have spent a long time training ourselves to avoid asking the right questions. We have spent a long time averting our gaze from the living organism immersed in its own way of life.

Are we asking the right questions? Last night, Jerry Rauch and I were talking about the challenges of thinking like a Christian (vs thinking secularly). I wonder if this essay on the alienation of science from the real world it studies and manipulates provides us with an answer. For a Christian, the world is not just an object to be studied, or abstract molecular mechanical models without a purpose, or any some such meaningless movement. The whole world looks towards the glory of God. It is inhabited by many animals, and even man, who was honored by God with his own image. The animals are not merely mechanistic, but have purpose and honor with God; nature matters.

For one example (among many) is Is 11:6-9

The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them. The cow and the bear shall feed; their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. The sucking child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder's den. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.

This is part of the messianic chapter on the coming shoot from the stump of Jesse. This is God's saving power made manifest in the world. This is God's glory and dominion. This is Jesus.