The Whirlwind Follows

“When religion and politics travel in the same cart, the riders believe nothing can stand in their way. Their movements become headlong - faster and faster and faster. They put aside all thoughts of obstacles and forget the precipice does not show itself to the man in a blind rush until it's to late.”

Frank Herbert, Dune

"Sir, my concern is not whether God is on our side; my greatest concern is to be on God's side, for God is always right."

Abraham Lincoln

Well within living memory is a time when Republicans and Democrats would work together in Washington DC to get bills through Congress and signed into law by the President. Both sides were sure that their approaches to any given issue were correct, but when these approaches differed, they argued and eventually worked out a compromise that neither side may have loved, but both sides would accept and vote for. Both Republicans and Democrats could see in the compromise bill a way of moving forward at least partially toward their chosen solution. Each side could say to their supporters that the compromise was the best that could happen at the time, but as more people became persuaded by their arguments, more could be done toward implementing their chosen solution.

Those days are past, and seem unlikely to return in the near future. A new kind of certainty has come into politics which sees the opposing side as not merely wrong but as actually being a threat. This kind of certainty has long been found in Christianity (and other religions too, most likely -- but I speak now only of the one I know well and therefore can speak about with some authority), and it is no coincidence that, as Christian groups have entered fully into the American political ring with a kind of theological politics, that this new kind of certainty has moved from religion to politics.

This kind of certainty, where disagreement represents a threat, has two main supports in theology: an argument and a commitment. The commitment comes about because many Christians stake their souls on a proposition. The argument is grounded in the omniscience and benevolence of God.

The commitment support arises because, instead of staking their souls on the saving acts of Jesus Christ, many Christians have staked their souls on the truth of the statement that Jesus Christ died for their sins. Therefore anything which may call into question the truth of that statement is seen as a spiritual threat. Since the support for the truth of that statement is seen in the Bible as it has been interpreted and explained to these Christians, anything which seems to contradict what they have been told that the Bible says is ultimately seen as undermining the truth on which they have staked their souls, and is seen as being a spiritual threat by extension.

The argument supporting this kind of certainty runs in this way. God is all knowing, and good, and therefore always tells the truth. The Bible is the Word of God, and therefore is also true. Therefore what the Bible says (and how I read the Bible, though that is often not made explicit) must be true and anything which appears to contradict it must be false. This argument starts out acceptable, but goes astray. It is true that God is all knowing, and good, and therefore tells the truth. Furthermore, it is true that God is certain about both political and theological positions. The Bible is God's revelation (although the supreme revelation of God, and indeed Word of God, is not the Bible but Jesus Christ), and therefore what it says is also true. However, the readers of the Bible are not themselves gods, and therefore are not perfect, and can misinterpret the Bible. What the Bible says is true; but the Bible does not necessarily say what each and every reader thinks it says. When we read the Bible, we interpret it; whether we intend to or not, we bring our own ideas, our own context, our own past to Scripture. The Bible is the certain and infallible expression of God, but we are fallible readers of the Bible.

This flaw in the argument supporting the kind of certainty we see moving from theology to politics suggests a remedy: humility. What we need are politicians and voters (especially those claiming to be Christians) willing to say, at least to themselves, that while they are sure they are right, they are also sure they are not perfect, and therefore they can be wrong. Acknowledging this truth would not require anyone to change a single position on any political issue, including the highly controversial ones. What it would require is a change of tone. Rather than seeing your opponents as opponents of the truth who thereby threaten you, you now have to see them as people like yourselves, who seem to be wrong on a given issue, but because you may be wrong too, you are not better than them. You now have to respect your political opponents as people who may be wrong, just as you may be wrong.

Gordon Lathrop, Holy Things, II

Lathrop starts with the Bible, which he describes as the source of both texts (such as readings and prayers) and of imagery. Its enacted meaning, however, comes from being used in the assembly, and from the resulting juxtaposition of old text and contemporary people. This pattern itself is biblical.

Nothing in worship arises de novo. Everything has some sort of precedent, even as it changes. No matter how significant the change or important the one making the change, the resulting form uses preexisting material. Thus for the sacraments, we cannot look to their institution as the moment they spring into existence. They have a prehistory, even if scholarship cannot reconstruct it and no documents exist to attest to this prehistory. (Consider, and this is my own comparison, the Goths, who were Arian. Surely they had worship texts, as they are contemporary to written orthodox texts, and furthermore we known they had literacy, even in their vernacular, Gothic, because Wulfila translated the Bible into it. But we do not know anything about the content of their liturgy.) This prehistory does not dictate the meaning of the ritual, however.

Gordon Lathrop, Holy Things I: Introduction

All this represents my understanding of Lathrop's ideas. Regrettably my Kindle copy does not include page numbers. As I am doing this post while reading the book these ideas are found in order. Don't quote me, read the book yourself!). The first main contribution of Lathrop is his distinction between "primary liturgical theology", which is theology expressed in the liturgy, and "secondary liturgical theology", which is theology expressed in reflecting on the liturgy. Just as the primary liturgical theology is the feedstock for the secondary, so in some sense is the primary as embodied in the practice of the community more fundamental than any reflections of theologians.

Methodologically speaking, start with simple, "non-theological" words (e.g., book, table, meal) and let the meaning of the acts arise from the acting, before using the jargon (e.g., Bible, altar, Eucharist), which can prejudge their meanings and become obstacles in themselves.

He notes the tension between the assertion of the existence of holy things and holy people, on the one hand, and its frequent companion in the liturgy, the assertion that God alone is holy.

Relaunching

Hello, everyone. Since I got no comments from my last post I have decided to change the focus of this blog. I'm preparing for my comps and I don't have time to spend on something that doesn't seem to be of much interest or use to people. So coming to this space will be reflections, hopefully daily, on what I'm reading for comps.

Hello Everyone!

I know, it's been a while since I blogged. Things have been busy in real life. Beyond that, however, one idea for a blog post hasn't worked out. So what I'm asking for is feedback. I can tell from Blogger that my posts have a few readers. However, without comments or other feedback, I have no idea if anyone is finding my posts interesting, stimulating, or anything else. So I invite your comments, either here or on the previous posts. I especially invite comments on the whole blog or issues you would like me to address in the future here. I invite disagreement and criticism, but keep in mind that I wish it to be civil, and anyone claiming that ecumenism is a heresy of satanic will be ignored, and their comments deleted: such statements are not useful.

The Family Tree and Wave Models

It is "National Siblings Day" in the US as I write these words. While this day is hardly a significant date in the church calendar, it does bring to mind the concept of "sister churches." This phrase tries to convey a sense of equality, both of current status and of historical roots. As such, it is generally a positive assessment when one church considers another to be a "sister church".

The term "sister church" evokes the idea of a family tree, thus allowing us to talk about "daughter churches" which split off from "mother churches", and by extension "grandmother" and "granddaughter" churches. The family tree metaphor should not be pushed too far -- for example, what church is at the root of the tree, thus representing the initial church of Acts: Catholicism or Orthodoxy? That question is essentially one of polemics between the various branches of Christianity, rather than one which can be easily and objectively answered.

The family tree model finds its origin in genealogy, but has been used in other fields as well, where two or more current entities share some sort of common origin. In biology, the family tree model is the root metaphor for taxonomy. In historical linguistics, the family tree model is the traditional representation of relationships among members of a language family.

In this latter case, there is an alternative to the family tree model, known as the wave model, in which changes to a language move out from a given dialect to its neighbors. Could such a model be useful in ecumenical relationships? It may be useful in describing the interrelationships among various Protestant bodies after their separation, as theological influences do not respect denominational lines. (Indeed, the influences also affect Anglicans, Catholics, and Orthodox, but these latter groups tend to be more self-defined and thus have stronger senses of identity.) I do not know of any attempts to systematically organize Protestant bodies in a wave model format in detail, though the groupings such as "mainline", "evangelical", "charismatic", "fundamentalist", and the like are attempts to do so in general, as churches can split off from a parent body in one group to take on the characteristics of another group. In some sense, then, the organization of Christian bodies might be best done by a combination of family tree and wave models.

The ecumenical payoff of this argument is the following. Churches most easily negotiate a union (or reunion) when there are relatively few differences between them. The family tree model can suggest churches which are similar, but the results, especially among Protestants, needs to be checked by the wave model. Realistically, this analysis is only for ecumenical theorists to explain why two or more churches are compatible; the churches themselves are unlikely to use this analysis to find a union partner. Rather, churches will be attracted to each other based on closeness which results from the effects of the family tree and wave model relationships.

In short, the family tree and wave models are theoretical tools which ecumenists can use to describe the relationships between churches. Such models can be used to explain why certain mergers, or even coalitions on issues, form. They cannot determine mergers: both models are fairly insensitive to both the nature and the significance of differences between two churches. In theory, two churches might disagree on only one issue. This combined family tree-wave analysis would suggest that these two churches could merge easily. If the difference is on some other issue which one or both churches considers essential to the Christian faith, and neither is willing to change its position, then a merger is not easily but impossible.

Thoughts on Reunion Proposals Pt. 3: Size Matters

In the nineteenth century, Germany was a collection of various states. Several Germans sought unification, and two ideas of which states would be included competed with each other. Advocates of the Kleindeutschland idea sought a unified Germany that included the Rhineland, Bavaria, the Saxon lands, and Prussia (among other states). The competing Grossdeutschland idea sought to also include the German speaking parts of Austria. (Of course, the Kleindeutschland idea ultimately prevailed. However, there are several important details behind this victory, which need not detain us here.)

Advocates of the Kleindeutschland idea did not believe that the German speaking Austrians were not really German. Rather they advocated Austria's omission because of political considerations (which again are beyond the scope of this blog). Might it not be possible, for various practical reasons (for example, a better chance of actual reunion), to temporarily abandon the search for a Grossoekumenismus in favor of a more achievable Kleinoekumenismus? That is, might a smaller group of churches, which already have greater agreement, unite where a larger group would fail to reach consensus?

In particular, instead of aiming for a broad "East-West" union of Oriental Orthodox, Eastern Orthodox, Catholic, Anglican, Mainline Protestant, and Evangelical Protestant churches, would not unions within East and West be easier? A Eastern Orthodox-Oriental Orthodox union, for example, would not need to face the issue of the filioque, for example. Other examples may come readily to mind. Why should a disagreement between Catholics and Eastern Orthodox mean that Catholics and Anglicans must stay separate? Furthermore, a union within one side need not be held up because of squabbles within the other side. It makes no sense for the disagreements between Eastern and Oriental Orthodox over the formulae of Chalcedon to mean that Presbyterians and Disciples of Christ must be in separate organizations.

Such a small ecumenism need not be the end. When the easier unions have happened, and only a few churches (plus the various outliers, discussed in a previous post) remain, then the push to full union could resume. Discussion on the various sticky points between the various aspects of traditional Christianity could continue through the previous unions. Meanwhile, a kind of ecumenical momentum would build up, and the idea that previously divided Christians can unite and live together within the same church structure, yet continuing to practice their own gifts and ministries, would become readily accepted.