“That the Holy Spirit is necessary for our recognition of Jesus as the Son of God is not surprising, given our presumption that it is surely not possible for God to be one of us. Our temptation is to believe that if God is God then God must be the biggest thing around. Accordingly we describe God with an unending list of superlatives: omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent. God is all powerful, all knowing, and everywhere present, but these descriptions make it difficult for some to understand how God can be conceived by the Spirit in Mary. Yet that is to presume we know what it means for God to be omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent prior to God being found in Mary’s womb. Admittedly this challenges our presumption that we can assume we can know what God must be prior to knowing Jesus, but such presumption is just another word for sin. By Mary’s conception through the Spirit, our prideful assumptions that we are capable of knowing God on our own terms is challenged.”
– Stanley Hauerwas, Matthew, 33-34.
Stanley Hauerwas
Herbert McCabe on Sin, Forgiveness, and God’s Love
“The initiative is always literally with God. When God forgives our sin, he is not changing his mind about us; he is changing our mind about him. He does not change; his mind is never anything but loving; he is love. The forgiveness of sin is God’s creative and re-creative love making the desert bloom again, bringing us back from dry sterility to the rich luxuriant life bursting out all over the place. When God changes your mind in this way, when he pours out on you his Spirit of new life, it is exhilarating, but it is also fairly painful. There is a trauma of rebirth as perhaps there is a trauma of birth. The exhilaration and the pain that belong to being reborn is what we call contrition, and this is the forgiveness of sin. Contrition is not anxious guilt about sin; it is the continual recognition in hope that the Spirit has come to me as healing my sin.
So it is not literally true that because we are sorry God decides to forgive us. That is a perfectly good story, but it is only a story. The literal truth is that we are sorry because God forgives us. Our sorrow for sin just is the forgiveness of God working within us. Contrition and forgiveness are just two names for the same thing, they are a gift of the Holy Spirit; the re-creative transforming act of God in us. God does not forgive us because of anything he finds in us; he forgives us out of his sheer delight, his exuberant joy in making the desert bloom again.”
– Hebert McCabe, “Hope” in God, Christ and Us, p. 16-17.
I think this is the kind of ground-level theology that would make Stanley Hauerwas and Douglas Campbell happy.
What are your thoughts on the above quote from McCabe?
Matthew 19 & Rich Christians: Possible or Impossible?
Few stories fascinate me as much as the tale of the Rich Young Man (Matthew 19:16-30).
A summary: Jesus encounters an extremely wealthy man who, by all means, is also a very moral man. However, the man realizes that he is still on the outside of the Kingdom and is not experiencing eternal life. Jesus’ solution is a command – sell all that he has and give it to the poor. In this way, Jesus implies, he will reach a moral standard consistent with entering into the Kingdom and experiencing eternal life. Indeed, this was the path already followed by his closest disciples (Mt. 19:27). The man walks away sad and unable to obey. Jesus, never one to pass up a teachable moment, tells the disciples that it is “difficult” for a rich person to enter the Kingdom. The then defines “difficult” as “impossible”: it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God.
The primary reason this is such a fascinating passage to me is because… I’m rich. And I live and worship in a wealthy (both relatively and globally) city. And yet there doesn’t seem to be an anxiety over our growing bank accounts, even with the extremely disparaging warnings about wealth like this one from Jesus. I constantly wonder, have we really felt the weight of Jesus’ words?
It is impossible for a rich person to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven.
The passage also fascinates me from a hermeneutical angle – I love analyzing the interpretive practices of various groups. I know first-hand why this statement from Jesus doesn’t scare the hell out of those who are well-off. It’s because two verses later Jesus says, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” Like a boy pursuing a girl playing hard-to-get, rich Christians are quick to go, “So, you’re saying there IS a chance.” And this statement from Jesus allows us to effectively forget his previously scary words. The moral import of his warning is drowned out by the credit-card shaped angel on our shoulder saying, “See, it’s possible! Don’t worry so much!”
Unfortunately, I’ve come to believe that this as an incorrect reading of the passage. The question needs to be asked: what exactly is Jesus referencing when he speaks of human impossibilities that are possible for God? Is it the possibility that a rich person will enter into the Kingdom or is it the possibility that a person will give up their riches in order to enter the Kingdom? This is a subtle yet incredibly significant interpretive decision. You see, Jesus never changes his command to the young ruler. The hope that Jesus holds out is not that the man might enter the Kingdom despite his disobedience. It is the hope that the man, through a powerful work of God, might come to a place where he fully loves God and others by giving away his possessions.
Stanley Hauerwas nails it, as usual: “Our temptation is to think that Jesus’ reply is intended to “let us off the hook.” Being rich is a problem, we may think, but God will take care of us, the rich, the only way God can. Yet such a response fails to let the full weight of Jesus’ observation about wealth have the effect that it should. We cannot serve God and mammon (Mt. 6:24). Jesus’ reply challenges not only our wealth, but our very conception of salvation. To be saved, to be made a member of the church through baptism, means that our lives are no longer our own. We are made vulnerable to one another in a manner such that what is ours can no longer be free of the claims of others. As hard as it may be to believe, Jesus makes clear that salvation entails our being made vulnerable through the loss of our possessions.” [1]
Or as Frederick Dale Bruner says: “What Jesus does not mean by “this is impossible for human beings” is the interpretation that says ‘If you will just be born again and experience miraculous conversion, you can then continue seeking money, honor, and success, for conversion does not replace all these earthly goods; it actually assist their acquisition.’ . . . . What Jesus does mean by this verse is that God can work the miracle of putting God instead of gain on the throne of the human heart (cf. Ps 119:36). No human power can displace the desire for “more” as the reigning human drive. Only God’s power can. Unless this miracle of dethronement-enthronement occurs again and again, there is no hope of salvation. That is the sober meaning of verse 26.” [2]
How Then Shall We, The Wealthy, Live?
I’ve already acknowledged that I am a relatively wealthy person (and not currently selling all of my possessions on eBay). So, I pass no judgement on those who like me follow Jesus and have wealth. However, I do believe two things:
– First, Jesus’s command to the rich young ruler is not a universal command. He doesn’t command all to give up everything, even as he clearly commands a radical commitment to the poor and oppressed from His people.
– Second, I don’t know the cut-off point! I have no clue “how rich” you can be and still enter into the Kingdom. So I can’t say “you have too much” (and neither should you).
What I do know, and would expect of those who follow Christ, is that we should be a people with bank accounts and storage closets that communicate a sacrificial love for God and others, instead of for ourselves and our stuff. I also expect this to be a gradual, consistent, and clear progression in our lives.
How do I respond to Jesus’ statements about money in this story?
First, with some anxiety. Second, with effort and intentionality, hoping that this year my habits of spending and accumulating will reflect Kingdom values more than it did last year.
[1] Hauerwas, Matthew (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible),174-175.
[2] Bruner, Matthew, 308.
Peacemaking: An Exercise in Faith and Imagination
One of the goals in my classroom is to create an atmosphere where the students want to dig deeper into their faith and wrestle with critical issues. As the year progresses my students learn of a few of my positions that are relatively new to them. Now most of the students who either have me as a teacher or will have me next year know that I am a Christian pacifist (the adjective is necessary because my reasons for being a pacifist rely on Jesus being who the Bible says he is). The fact that this reputation has started to precede me has led to some interesting conversations. I have explained my reasons for being a pacifist and why I think Christians are called to a nonviolent lifestyle, but it is clear from some of their questions that much is still misunderstood about Christian nonviolence. I am going to list some of the most common questions I get from students once they learn that I am a pacifist and craft a response for each.
1) Do you hate soldiers?
I recently had a student discover that a “Christian” group has made a habit of protesting soldiers funerals (Westboro Baptist). She then asked me if I approved of what they were doing since I was a pacifist. I was horrified by the question. While I don’t think that Christians should participate in the military, I do believe that the act of waving a sign that says “God hates you” at a funeral is an inhumane and deeply anti-Christian act. My call to Christian nonviolence puts me in direct opposition to the folks at Westboro precisely because I believe that they are committing verbal violence. I think many pacifists often get accused of dishonoring soldiers and veterans, and it is hard for the discussion to not become personal with so many of us having family in the military. So let me be clear, the church is called to love soldiers and veterans even if it stands against war. In fact, the church needs to be proactive in the care of the soldiers who are now starting to come back from Iraq and Afghanistan. There needs to be a safe place where soldiers can talk about their experiences and start to heal from both visible and invisible wounds. The church must be that place.
2) What would your husband do if you were punched in the face?
This question has actually become a running joke in one of my classes. Now whenever I ask this class if they have any questions during a lecture, this is usually the first one asked in jest. It started as a serious question when they found out that both my husband and I are pacifists. They then created a ridiculous scenario where someone randomly comes up to me and knocks me out (I find Yoder’s response to hypothetical scenarios to be especially helpful here).[1] The correct response, according to them, was for my husband to beat up the other guy. He would do this to defend my honor, and if he did nothing that meant he clearly did not care about me.
There are several problems underlying this question. First, they assume that the role of a man is to protect “their woman” and be willing to use violence if necessary. This is endemic of our southern culture that identifies males as the proverbial “protector” and females as the “damsel” in need of rescue. If this is true, the measure of a man is evaluated by the lengths he will go to defend those he loves. I see this trope all over the place in Hollywood movies but not really in the Bible. The second problem is that a nonviolent response is viewed as not a response at all. I told them that my husband would probably not engage with the guy who hit me, but would immediately check to see if I was okay. They felt this response did not really address the issue, which was equally concerning to me. Are we so thirsty for blood that we forget about the very person we’re claiming to defend?
3) So as a pacifist are you just supposed to stand back and do nothing?
This question has been asked to me in many different ways. It usually comes up when there has been a violent uprising in a country or a school shooting (both of which seem to be happening a lot these days). My students often think that since I am a pacifist, my response to these situations is to not get involved. According to them, pacifism means you stand back and do nothing in the face of injustice. Pacifism is often mistakenly associated with being passive. This is why I prefer the term nonviolent resistance or peacemaking instead of pacifism. Both of these terms are active and more clearly convey the heart of Christian pacifism.
I think this question reveals both a lack of faith and imagination on the part of many Christians in America. We say that we trust God, but when it comes to defending our families or our nation, we’re more likely going to trust our guns. Because we automatically reach for the gun, it is hard to try and think of any other way to stand against evil and injustice. And we as Christians are called to have a more robust imagination than that. Our very name points back to the one who did not respond back with violence, but overcame evil with good. If the God whom we worship was able to overcome all the powers of darkness through “obedience unto death on a cross” what does that mean for his followers? Are we willing to take up that cross and follow him? How can we take an active stand against violence without responding in kind?
Christian peacemaking is a virtue that exercises the spiritual muscles of faith and imagination. Now with any virtue, we are not going to start off as masters of it. The place where I get the best practice in peacemaking is in rush hour traffic! If I can get in the habit of always seeing people as Jesus sees people, maybe when it counts, when my life is on the line, I won’t simply be thinking about my survival. Maybe I’ll be thinking about Jesus and the cross and how that’s changed everything. I’m certainly not there yet, but I can start by trusting in the Triune God, who brings peace into the violence of our own hearts.
So what is the next step? How can we start to exercise these muscles?
Here are two suggestions for moving forward:
1) Look for examples and imitate
A great example of nonviolent resistance in practice is a local anti-trafficking organization called Elijah Rising. This organization has some warriors who never lift a sword! They’re primary focus is to end human trafficking through prayer, worship, and awareness (they also strategically seek contact with the women who are being trafficked). This group exemplifies a nonviolent pursuit of justice and a faith that believes in the power of intercession.
2) Start doing some reading on the subject
For an excellent place to begin see our fellow blogger Mike Skinner’s posts:
Jesus is Cruciform not Octagonal (A Response to Mark Driscoll)
The 5 Most Common Myths about Romans 13:1-7
Other recommended reading:
War and the American Difference – by Stanley Hauerwas
A Faith Not Worth Fighting For: Addressing Commonly Asked Questions About Christian Nonviolence – by Trip York and Justin Bronson Barringer
[1] Yoder, John H.. What Would You Do? Scottsdale: Herald Press. 1983
The Great Irony of American Christianity
I’m currently leading a group of folks at my church through Lee C. Camp’s book Mere Discipleship: Radical Christianity in a Rebellious World. I first read it last year (it was highly recommended to me) and I think that it is one of the best “popular level” introductions to the theology & ethics of John Howard Yoder & Stanley Hauerwas (with a good measure of N.T. Wright and Richard Hays thrown in as well) that I have read.
The book has spurred some great conversation among our group and as I was preparing for our next meeting I was struck by the following quote:
“This is the great irony of American Christianity: exalting the nation that affords us ‘freedom of religion,’ we set aside the way of Christ in order to preserve the religion we supposedly are free to practice. We kill our alleged enemies in order to ‘worship’ the God who teaches us to love enemies. The most important question about our pledge of allegiance is not whether we pledge allegiance to a flag under “one God,” but to what god we are pledging our allegiance. Perhaps it is, after all, not the God revealed in Jesus Christ we are worshiping, but the god of the nation-state, the god of power and might and wealth.”
Do you agree with his assessment of the “great irony of American Christianity”?
Can you think of any other examples that would support his argument?
Cruciform Theology 