Is Intellectualism Arrogant?

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One of the talk that surprised me a bit from Matter ’09 was actually the final conversation on Romans 12 between Cassie Faulk and Bill Mallonee. They both explored the voice of the artist – Bill through his story and music and Cassie through a paper on interacting with art as a textual critic. In her paper (or at least what I remember of it) she asserted that in textual criticism one must act in humility towards authors, choosing to love both the author and the audience. She said she had problems with art that was ugly because it didn’t originate with an attitude of respect for the viewer. Similarily she said she dislikes art that is so complex that the average person can’t “get it.” As she put it, if you have to already know stuff in order to understand a work of art then that isn’t appreciation it is merely an affirmation of arrogance – showing off how much you already know. For her all interaction should be done out of humility.

But some of us were uncomfortable with the assertion that to apply one’s intellect or to call others to use their intellect is arrogant. Perhaps, as an academic she intended to only refer to the extremes of art and literature, but in the church world where anti-intellectualism is the norm I find her position dangerous. The treasured mantra in churches these days is that the bible is easy enough for a child to comprehend. While there may be a level in which that statement is true, the way it is used is generally to avoid or ridicule any learned approach to theology or biblical studies. Instead we get bible translations written at 6th grade levels and “bible studies” that are nothing more than copy a verse to fill-in-the-blanks. people get to pretend they actually are “studying’ something when all they are doing is regurgitating words without understanding their meanings in context. In fact this anti-intellectualism has become itself a source of pride, as anyone who tries to push deeper is mocked.

So I have an issue with saying that the need to be intellectually astute in order to understand something is simply arrogance. In my mind it is simply a means of getting at the complexities of the world. I don’t believe, for example, that if a person enjoys the show LOST they do so because they enjoy being arrogant. Yes, to get the show one has to be well read (or at least really good at google searches), but that just makes the show more interesting. I’ve heard people make fun of it and those of us who watch it because it is so complex, and to be thoughtful is in their world something to mock. But I don’t think the solution is so dumb everything down so that no one has to know much of anything as they engage the world around them. I want the news, or my TV shows, or my faith to make me think – to make me push beyond myself and go on that journey of discovery. I want the ah-ha moments when I see how elements of ancient Roman philosophy influence the writing of the epistles, or how ancient Egyptian culture helps LOST makes sense. It is about acknowledging the bigger world we live in, and that all of our stories have roots in each other’s stories. And it is about admitting that our response to the fact that God is big shouldn’t be to mock those that want to explore that complexity. To me it is more humble to admit that there is always more to learn – more ways to deepen the intellect – than to settle believing that one has it figured out enough to stop bothering.

But maybe that’s just arrogant of me…

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‘Indecent’ Clothing and Abusive Control

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My most recent post over at the God’s Politics blog –

Over the past couple of months, I’ve followed the unfolding story of Lubna Hussein, the Sudanese woman who was arrested for wearing pants and who decided to not be quiet about her arrest. The facts of the story are that Lubna Hussein and 12 other women were arrested in Khartoum, Sudan’s capital, in July for wearing pants at a local café. Sudan’s penal code states that up to 40 lashes and a fine should be assessed of anyone “who commits an indecent act which violates public morality or wears indecent clothing.”

Most of these women quietly paid the fine and received their lashings, but Lubna Hussein decided to plead not guilty. She sent out invites to journalists to attend her trial and dared the Sudanese authorities to whip her publicly so the whole world could see how Sudan treats its women. She was eventually sent to jail, but was released after a government official paid her fine in order to remove her voice from the spotlight.

To Hussein, this was not just about wearing pants. The law is unevenly applied, and in some areas of the country women wear pants without fear of punishment. The pants were merely a symbol of the trend to suppress the voices of women. And as even her critics have pointed out, this wasn’t about gaining simple political advantage for women, for in Sudan women have won the right of equal pay to men, and occupy leading positions. Specific instances of equality matter less than the general atmosphere women have to face every day. As Hussein points out, the indecency law “targets just women–I’ve never heard of a man arrested for indecent clothing, and furthermore the law doesn’t even define ‘indecent.’ It’s left up to the police officer’s whim.” Women’s bodies are shamefully being used against them as a means of control.

Having experienced the conservative Christian version of this obsession with so-called “indecency,” I too have witnessed how clothing is simply a pretense for control. I’ve been disciplined for wearing the “inappropriately casual and therefore indecent” choice of a denim skirt and Keds at church camp. I’ve been on the youth trips where more time is devoted to discussing what sort of swimsuits and tank tops are allowed than to Bible study. I’ve had my youth pastor give me the long lingering look and tell me to go home and change because if it rained my white t-shirt would be too indecent. And I’ve heard students at Christian colleges within the last few years brag about how relevant their school is now because women can wear jeans to class. I’ve also read of the communities in the U.S. that pass laws banning clothing styles common in African-American communities. Or schools that insist on dress codes where all students must look like middle-class white men stepping off the golf course in their khakis and polos.

In America, we are not strangers to controlling people through rules about clothing. We may not physically beat people, but if there are people that we want controlled — be they women, or youth, or racial minorities — we have no problem fining or otherwise punishing them for their personal choices. Often, this has very little to do with any real indecency, but is simply an excuse to silence the voices we might fear. Lubna Hussein found herself in a position where she could challenge that use of women’s bodies as a means to control them. Unlike Hussein, most women didn’t have the legal and monetary resources to stand up to the government, so she became their voice. The pants were merely a symbol of a larger issue.

It is disappointing but not surprising that the Sudanese government decided to avoid dealing with this issue. It is easy to let specific instances slide as long as they can retain the right to forcibly control women when they desire. And it is easy to think that issues like these are restricted to other religions or other countries. But the use of fear and shame to control others still runs rampant in our country as well. Women all over the world remain silent daily out of fear of what men may do to them. When even their clothing choice can be punished by a fine or lashing; by a stoning or a rape; or simply by the reminder that they are less important than men or even that they are merely objects that men can use; it is easy for their voice to dwindle away. So I applaud women like Lubna Hussein who get at the roots of injustice and challenge even the small parts of a system that deny women a voice or full personhood.

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Insurrection for Peace

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Over this past year I’ve been part of various discussions that question if seeking the Kingdom of God can be equated to revolution. The general opinion of those who believe it can’t asserts that human endeavour cannot be the means by which the Kingdom comes. As in, we can’t follow some postmillennial social gospel that believes that we can create heaven here on earth. I agree with that, but at the same time am uneasy with those who then say “so, therefore, why bother doing anything? Let’s just set our sites on the world to come.”

Such an approach ignores the already and not yet aspects of the Kingdom. To claim that we are currently part of the Kingdom because God is among us, and that we are in fact helping God’s Kingdom come “on earth as it is in heaven” by anticipating in hope the future fulfillment of the Kingdom, is not the same as some misguided faith in progress. We (the communal we of humankind) don’t expect to complete the task, but still must participate because in one sense we already inhabit the very realm we are hoping to create.  In other words, we simply must do our duty skingdom citizens.

So this past weekend at Matter ‘09, I was grateful to Pete Rollins for putting a better language to this whole manner of living. He said that, yes, in the grand scheme of things we are part of a revolution, but we will never see its end or entire scope. So instead of confusing critics by speaking of revolutions, we should instead start seeing ourselves as merely part of insurrections. Where we see oppression and injustice in the world, we rise up against it. We are the creators of the systems of this world, we are the ones fueling the oppression, and so we can be the ones to insist upon change and recreate it. It isn’t about ushering in the Kingdom in all its fullness, it is about being the resistance movement in the places where the Kingdom is already under attack.

I loved that imagery he provided. It allows each of us to work where we are at and to bring the changing force of love into the small pockets of the Kingdom we can access. It is grand and cosmic with revolutionary undertones, but without the dangers of confusing our actions with the breaking through of the divine. We work with and for God, trusting in him. Through our transformation in Christ we can be stripped of the power of this world and can affect change in our communities of insurrection. We can rise up for peace, and justice, and love not simply for some future kingdom, but because Christ has already broken through and invites us to live for him now.

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Matter ’09

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So I am feeling very blessed. In the last two weeks I have attended two theology conferences – the Emergent Theological Conversation with Jurgen Moltmann and the Matter ’09 conference. I forget how much being a part of an experience where people can learn and discuss and debate ideas is such a vital part of who I am. Getting a short discussion some weeks in Sunday school or interacting even on blogs just doesn’t cut it for the need to be feed through such interaction. I miss it, and so was very grateful to have a few days where I could be myself. I’ve been reflecting on the Moltmann conversation already here and may continue that as well as add in a few reflections from the Matter conference in the upcoming week.

But I want to say how much I appreciated Matter ’09. It was put on by Shechem Ministries and was billed as a creative theology conference. In essence it brought the arts and theology together through a variety of mediums. As conferences go, it was a very small conference and had some serious kinks in the planning/implementation side of things, but I hope those don’t stand in the way of this becoming a regular gathering. There really is so little being done in the church that explores how art and theology and church life and faith all work together. We need safe spaces where we can explore those sorts of questions, and the Matter conference is the perfect opportunity to make that happen.

This year at the conference we got to approach the issues and learn from a variety of different styles. Throughout the conference there were presentations/workshops from a variety of voices. Some of these were strictly academic, others were talks on the practical intersection of art and faith, and others were artistic sessions like poetry readings or short drama. I was privileged to lead a session on how our mental images of God affect if our response to Eucharist turns us inward to a personalized faith or outward to a service orientated faith. Then there were three main sessions where an academic and an artist engaged the theme verses of the conference while in dialogue with each other. So a painter and a biblical scholar, a filmmaker and a philosopher, and a musician and a textual critic explored together how to interpret and reflect on scripture. Then we also got to hear multiple times from Pete Rollins, who explored with us creative liturgy and pushed us to reflect on lived faith that is in the world but not of it. He, as always, was brilliant and challenged us to remove the facades of our faith. It was cerebral, and emotional, and worshipful all at the same time.

I was grateful to be a part of this event, and thankful to those who put in the work to make it happen. I truly hope it does evolve and survive so that we can continue to see these diverse disciplines interacting and deliberately learning from each other.

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Moltmann Reflections 3

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Over the next few days, I’ll be blogging my thoughts about the Moltmann conversation. I’m not a theologian, and I’ve read very little of Jurgen Moltmann (although now I want to read a lot more), so I will just be reflecting on what I heard at the Emergent Theological Conversation.

I think one of the poignant soundbites from the Moltmann conversation came during the rapid fire round. Tony Jones would throw out a name and Moltmann would give a one sentence response. While this of course brought out some moments of praise (“Pope John Paul II – “He was a good pope” and Miroslav Volf – “dear friend, gifted theologian’), it also brought a few criticisms (Augustine – “ask his wife” and Pelagius – “he is the saint of American Christians”). I found his reply to what he thought about Hauerwas to be significant – “The New Testament speaks not about a peaceable kingdom, but a peace-making kingdom.”

Moltmann is very insistent on the need to have an active faith. Apathy is the enemy of faith, and can lead one to passivity. But if we are serving Christ and truly looking towards the hope of the Kingdom, we will be actively engaged in the faith. A peaceable kingdom is not one of action, there must be deliberate attempts made to established the hope-filled world that Jesus calls us to.

In a later session, Moltmann then expanded on what he meant by that idea of a peace-making kingdom. He likes the future idea of a peaceable kingdom where swords will instead be plowshares, but he also reminds that peace-making is what does the actual work of transformation. He said, – we need communities that anticipate this peaceable kingdom, and communities that work for peacemaking in this world. A double strategy so that peacemakers do not become too violent themselves without this ideal vision or people end up not preventing any war by living in their own peace. He captures the dangers of both the peaceable and the peace-makers, the former can be so afraid of conflict that they are frozen in inaction and the latter so committed to a goal that they adopt the tactics of the violent to achieve their ends.

I’ve seen the dangers of those that think the best route to peace is to do nothing, who believe that even words create too much conflict. And I’ve also seen the beautiful examples of peace-makers actively taking a stand for what is good and right without fear of their own safety or intention to harm oppressors. The women of the Niger River Delta who stood up to Chevron to protest the destruction of their homes, or the women of Liberia who peacefully ended a bloody civil war (as depicted in Pray the Devil Back to Hell) demonstrated this active peacemaking. And Moltman himself felt the tension as well, after he was released from the WW2 POW camp he vowed to never again take up arms in a military, but he also vowed that if given the chance to kill an evil dictator like Hitler he would take it. It’s complicated, but it’s also a good reminder that peace has little to do with passive pacifism, and everything to do with actively seeking justice and peace.

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Moltmann Reflections 2

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Over the next few days, I’ll be blogging my thoughts about the Moltmann conversation. I’m not a theologian, and I’ve read very little of Jurgen Moltmann (although now I want to read a lot more), so I will just be reflecting on what I heard at the Emergent Theological Conversation.

One of the things I appreciated most in the conversations with Moltmann, was his insistence on returning to the simplicity of the gospel. Often he was asked a question on some controversial issue in the American church, and he simply scoffed at how we make such a big deal over it. His thought is that God is God and the gospel is the gospel – how we keep trying to manipulate and add things to it seemed preposterous or even heretical. Take for example his response to two such hot topic issues much discussed lately in America – gender language for God and homosexuality.

Moltmann was asked about the difficulty in “coming up with pronouns that are appropriately intimate and personal for God and yet don’t anthropomorphize God with a gender.” His response was that God is neither he nor she nor it – God is God. We should not use God’s divinity to justify the domination of men over women. The image we have of the trinity is not one of hierarchy or domination, but of unity. This unity can be reflected in our church communities – being in community the image of the communal identity of love. I found his view of allowing God to be God to be refreshing. Too often God is used for that very purpose of domination that subverts and destroys community. Sometime we get so wrapped up in the complexities of our own opinions that we paint elaborate portraits of God in our own personal images.  Moltmann proposes instead a simplicity that doesn’t fall into idolatry by reducing God to gender, and yet remains intimately connected to God through the use of multi-gendered pronouns for God.

Same thing with homosexuality. When the schismatic nature of sexuality in the American church was brought up, Moltmann replied that the whole discussion isn’t a problem in Germany. He said they have never had a struggle about this in the churches and in between the churches, because the church is about the gospel and not about sex. Christians believe in the justification of human beings by faith alone, not by faith and homosexuality. That, according to Moltmann, is adding heresy. I find this tendency, especially in the American church, to add things to the gospel to be disturbing. I’ve recently been told that I obviously am not a true Christian if I, say, read gender neutral Bible translations, do yoga, refuse to spank my kids, or become a vegetarian. As farcical as it sounds to turn the gospel into “believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and continue to eat meat and you will be saved,” it is unfortunately representative of a growing trend in the church these days. When prominent church leaders regularly question the salvation of those who don’t follow the teachings of Calvin, the warped idolatry in the church is apparent.

So, I loved that Moltmann simply scoffed at America’s adolescent stupidity and encouraged us to get back to the gospel. Let God be God. Let the gospel be the gospel. Of course, opinions and theologies will always affect our faith, but sometimes we just need a good reminder to get over ourselves and stop manipulating God for our own ends.

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Moltmann Reflections 1

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Over the next few days, I’ll be blogging my thoughts about the Moltmann conversation. I’m not a theologian, and I’ve read very little of Jurgen Moltmann (although now I want to read a lot more), so I will just be reflecting on what I heard at the Emergent Theological Conversation.

At one point Moltmann, spoke about the two crosses of Christianity – the real cross at Golgotha and Constantine’s dream cross (a discussion I assume he develops further in his book, The Crucified God). The cross that appeared to Constantine in his vision was the cross of empire and violence. It was used to conquer, oppress, and destroy opposition. His cross is one of power and domination, not of response and reconciliation. But it is Constantine’s cross, and not the cross of Golgotha, that the church has most readily accepted through the ages. Moltmann mentioned that it was the precursor of the Iron Cross and Victoria’s Cross – crosses that spoke not of the sacrifice of Jesus, but of empire and political maneuvering. We place that cross on flags to demonstrate the forced acceptance of a political interpretation of Christ. Accepting Christ and his cross has become about accepting the empire’s official version thereof.

Moltmann suggested instead that we need to go back to the origins of our faith to find a new future for Christianity in the world outside of imperialism. We have so confused the cross of Constantine with the real cross of Christ that we fail to understand and honor what the cross truly means. We honor our idea of a powerful, vindictive cross instead of a suffering cross. Unless we break from this idolatry, the probleofm  the Church causing pain in this world will continue.

I found the image fascinating. When the cross becomes our shield and sword instead of a symbol of hope, our faith becomes about struggle with the Other instead of love of the Other. Instead of acknowledging that through Christ’s suffering, all can be reconciled, we desire to forcibly make others think as we do. But conversion through coercion is not a reflection of hope and love, but of fear. If we cannot let the other be who they are and encounter the cross on their own terms, then we have forsaken the cross in favor of empire (be that a political or ideological empire). I fully agree that we need to return to the real cross, but I also do wonder what the future would look like apart from this need to use the cross to justify our disrespectful and inhumane treatment of others. A cross that embraced the suffering of others and helped them develop hope from that suffering instead of causing that very suffering is a vastly different sort of cross; and a church that shunned the cross of empire in favor of Jesus himself would be a very different church.

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Book Review: Cuisines of the Axis of Evil

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Every once in awhile, I stumble across a book that is just purely enjoyable to read. And as odd as it may sound to classify a book on politics and the nuclear arms race in that category, Cuisines of the Axis of Evil and Other Irritating States: A Dinner Party Approach to International Relations was exactly such a book. As you can probably tell from the title, this wasn’t your average political commentary. One endorser described it as Iron Chef meets The Daily Show – culinary mastery with wit and snark. In short, my type of book.

in the book, author Chris Fair takes a close look at the evil powerhouses in the world (i.e. those countries with the bomb or those who are trying to get it) and humanizes them with an exploration of their cuisine. From the so-called “axis of evil” (Iraq, Iran, North Korea), to nuke-possessing human-rights violators (Israel, India, and Pakistan), to the dashers of democracy (Cuba, Burma, and China), to the Great Satan herself (USA), the reader embarks on a rather peculiar world tour. Fair is unashamedly biased and opinionated, and yet manages to present a balanced perspective on many of these countries. What is extremely helpful is her brief modern histories of each country. Basically she explains why these countries hate the USA and what our past relationship with them has been. So for all of us 30-somethings who were too young to watch the news while, say, the Iran-Contra affair was unraveling, and whose history textbooks and teachers never made it past World War 2 (because what teacher wants to touch Civil Rights and the Vietnam War), these brief histories are the most concise explanations of these events you will have ever heard. One reads of the whole convoluted history of our relationship with Saddam Hussein, how the Taliban got its weapons, and why we let China walk all over us. The author doesn’t hold back – all the countries are equally criticized and celebrated at the same time. It truly is a dinner party approach where friendship has to guide all other conversations.

And I know this sounds bad, but my biggest issue with the book was in it’s treatment of the USA. Now, I have no problem pointing out our flaws. We are hardly ones to point the finger at other “evil” nations when we were the ones who funded their armies and set-up their regimes to begin with. America is far from perfect. And I appreciated the author setting the record straight that the Muslim world doesn’t hate us for our freedom, they hate us for being a bully. But in exploring other reasons why the world hates America, I think the author let her personal opinions influence her focus a bit too much. She argues that the world hates us because a majority of us are so stupid we don’t believe in evolution or at least think God might have been involved. Whatever her opinion on that issue, I highly doubt that most of the world hates us because we believe in God. If she thinks we are idiots, fine, but the argument went a bit too far in that particular case.

But in general, this provocative and satiric take on world politics was pure brilliance, and the featured cuisines were enticing. The author not only describes typical meals in each of the countries – complete with drinks and ambiance, she provides detailed recipes for a full-course dinner party. Since reading the book, I’ve tried a couple of the recipes (and can highly recommend the Margat Bamya stew from the Iraq chapter). They are easy to follow and she takes care to tell you exactly what should be happening with the food at each step and where you can go to find the more exotic ingredients listed. On the whole, I can only say that I wish all approaches to international relations were this entertaining and yummy.

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Everyday Justice is Here!

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Cover of Everyday Justice by Julie ClawsonIf you haven’t heard it already on Facebook or Twitter, my book is in! The official release date is October 30, but it came in from the printer early. So I finally get to have the very surreal feeling of holding my own book. I think the book is shipping already from IVP, and you can add it to your cart at Amazon (currently shipping in 1-3 weeks). If you want to find out more, IVP has the Foreword (by Tom and Christine Sine), the Introduction and the book’s Warning Label available for download at their site.

I’m excited to finally be able to share what I’ve been thinking about for the last two years with everyone. My hope is that Everyday Justice will help people see how they can join in on seeking justice and serving the Kingdom of God. Oftentimes it is easy to get overwhelmed by the magnitude of justice issues or to feel that you just can’t commit to seeking justice in the ways radical ways that we hear the most about. And I admit – the issues are huge and most of us can’t be a Shane Claiborne or Mother Teresa, but we can still love our neighbor as ourself even with our simple everyday actions. That’s what this book is about – discovering how our daily choices can make a big difference around the world. It’s an introduction to biblical justice for those who are curious and a deeper exploration of a few practical ways that justice can be lived out in our modern world. We all need guides and encouragement along the way, and I hope Everyday Justice can serve readers in those ways.

And, I’m excited to also announce a new website launching in connection with the book – everydayjustice.net. This isn’t a book promo site; it’s a site where people can find out more about the injustices in this world, discover how they can fight for justice, hear stories of the people out there doing justice, and be in community with others seeking justice. It’s intended to be a resource that anyone can contribute to. So if you are passionate about seeking justice or simply want to find out more, I invite you to visit everydayjustice.net. Feel free to join the conversation, submit your story or tip on just living, and help build a community of justice seekers there.

I look forward to seeing where these conversations lead and I hope you enjoy the book and are inspired by it to seek justice in the everyday.

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Confession and Guilt

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A couple of weeks ago when we were in Michigan, we attended Mars Hill for church one Sunday. Rob Bell was speaking on Genesis 2 – our call to be co-creators through stewarding creation and how sin disorders the way that was meant to happen. (the sermon The Importance of Beginning in the Beginning is currently available for download). At one point Rob made a comment about sin and confession that struck me (and I may not have the quote completely right here, this is just what I wrote down) –

Confession is admission, recognition, declaration, and agreement that we have participated in the wrong order of things – in ways that don’t further the Shalom of God. And then we repent and say we want to return to the order that God wants.

The definition of confession that I have always heard restricts it to admitting particular sins. You told a lie, you confess it. But that view of confession doesn’t truly cover all the ways we have participated in the disruption of true Shalom. It makes confession all about us and an easy checklist of dos and don’ts instead of our relationship with God and others and our call to participate in the kingdom of God.

For example, when we participate in systems that support injustices in the world we are disrupting Shalom. I would never go so far as to say that buying a banana grown by oppressed workers and with dangerous polluting pesticides is a sin in the traditional understanding of the word, but it is a failure to love and a disruption of the way things ought to be. So we can confess that we have participated in the wrong order of things, failed to support God’s Shalom, and then choose to return (repent) to the order of love and stewardship that God desires. It’s not about acts of individual sin, it’s about an orientation of love.

But it is also not about guilt. Admitting, recognizing, declaring, and agreeing (confessing according to this definition) that these acts of oppression and pollution exist and that we are participants in them is not meant to make people feel guilty but to establish the impetus for change. Unless we admit that there is a problem, then things can never return to the way they should be. All too often those of us who talk about the need to confess our cultural sins (as with purchasing unfairly made items or benefiting from the past slavery of others) are accused of just wanting people to feel guilty. But in truth guilt should have nothing to do with this. Confession comes from a desire to serve God and see his will done. We may yes, feel bad or sorry for our actions, but change comes from positive vision not negative feelings.

This perspective on confession is bigger and messier than we might be used to, but it better reflects the way God desires us to be. It is harder to think of life holistically and attempt to orient ourselves to living out the Shalom of God, but I think it is more reflective of truth and results in deeper commitments to the way of Christ.

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