merefaith: discipleship in the ruins of empire

All that to say that this SMBC strip is a funny illustration of that idea as it applies to physiology.

ohn W. Loftus, editor of this volume, is a former fundamentalist preacher, now an atheist, and posts frequently at his blog Debunking Christianity. With his usual humble reserve, he remarks in the introduction that

Well, this imperial subject read through (most of) the book, which has a slew of endorsements not only from atheist/agnostic academics but also Christian theologians and philosophers who insist that this is a work worth the time of critical-thinking Christians who wish to understand the tenor of current skeptical thought. In the end I found The Christian Delusion to be terribly uneven with some insightful parts, some "well, duh, and yawn" parts, and finally lacking the knockout blow that Mr. Loftus insists that his works render.

Part I, "Why Faith Fails," consists of chapters presenting critiques of Christianity through psychological and sociological analysis. I skimmed David Eller's "The Cultures of Christianities," which seemed to give a fairly useful presentation of how religion is interpreted as culture. However, I wasn't convinced by his hasty jump from cultural analysis to the reductionist conclusion that any and every religion, in all its diverse forms, can only be a cultural product.

Valerie Tarico's "Christian Belief Through the Lens of Cognitive Science" spends a lot of time noting how the human mind easily distorts reality in self-serving ways, seeks to smooth fragments of information into a smooth narrative, and responds unconsciously to various non-rational triggers. All this to say, in the end, that "Understanding the psychology of religion doesn't tell us whether any specific set of beliefs is true. (62)" Or, I might add, if they are necessarily false. Cognitive research does go a long way in suggesting why and how certain religious dispositions are reinforced, but I don't think she has made the case that it is rapidly providing sufficient explanations for the "phenomenon of belief." I just as well think such research goes a long way in explaining why many self-described skeptics and freethinkers dismiss out of hand the serious parapsychological research that has been conducted in the past century.

Jason Long's chapter, "The Malleability of the Human Mind," continues along similar minds in reminding us why we are so incorrigibly irrational. Does this specifically rebut Christianity, or any particular worldview?

The final chapter of Part I, John Loftus' "The Outsider Test for Faith Revisited," returns to this ex-preacher's favorite invention. In short, the OTF asks believers of any persuasion to examine their faith as they would anyone else's - from the perspective of an outsider. Although he seems to think the OTF, rightly practiced, will make everyone an atheist, he acknowledges that atheists should be willing to practice the OTF (or, if you will, the Outsider Test for Belief) as well. This is one of those "yawn" chapters. So we should be self-critical. Been there, done that.

Part 2 is "Why the Bible is Not God's Word" Ed Babinski and Paul Tobin present back-to-back chapters that rehash some old, well-established basics of the historical-critical study of the Bible. Yes, the ancient Israelites believed in a flat earth and a solid dome in the sky. Yes, the Bible doesn't look like the "inerrant book" put forward by fundamentalists. Neither book really adds to the conversation because any Christian or secularist with a modicum of reading has tread this ground before. Loftus' chapter on God's failure to communicate is little more than a bag of assertions.

Things get much more interesting in Part 3, "Why the Christian God is not Perfectly Good," with Hector Avalos' "Yahweh is a Moral Monster," which was originally a post to Debunking Christianity responding to the arguments of Christian apologist Paul Copan. Copan defends a realist-literalist interpretation of Yahweh's actions in the Old Testament. In other words, when the Bible talks about the Israelite god ordering the military campaign against the Canaanites, we should understand this as a record of the one true God acting in history. Copan's defense has been expanded into the book Is God a Moral Monster?, which has the dubious distinction of generating a critical online review by Christian scholar Thom Stark that is far longer than the original work. Avalos' essay is probably a little outdated, then, by the ongoing conversation, but it least it injects a fun argument based on fairly rigorous scholarship.

I may sound like a broken record, but I just didn't find Loftus' chapter on "The Darwinian Problem of Evil" to be particularly compelling or interesting. But then again, as I've mentioned before, I'm generally not bothered by the "problem of evil" discussion in general.

Part 4 explains "Why Jesus is Not the Risen Son of God." While I can say I like the pugnacious and humorous Robert M. Price, his "Jesus: Myth and Method" chapter is merely a reprint of an online review of Boyd and Eddy's apologetic book The Jesus Legend. Price speaks with a confident assurance, but his own books have received some excoriation from biblical scholars who are not themselves conservative evangelicals. An honest appraisal of this chapter demands comparing it with the source material that is criticized.

Richard Carrier wishes to explain "Why the Resurrection is Unbelievable," which is a topic he frequently turns to in his writings and debates. I recommend downloading the audio of his 2010 debate with apologist Mike Licona. It is the most irenic and informative of the many resurrection debates to which I have listened in the past few months. I also have to say that I have less confidence about demonstrating the resurrection by argument than I did several years ago. In the end, one's conclusions about the circumstances immediately following Jesus' crucifixion will be drawn based on the plausibility structures one brings to the discussion. But look to Carrier's practiced hand to give one of the best arguments against this key Christian confession.

Loftus is back with "At Best Jesus Was a Failed Apocalyptic Prophet." He finally writes a chapter that is worth reading. Contra the Jesus Seminar types, Jesus was most likely an apocalyptic prophet. The question is, if he was, did he expect the "end of the world" (very roughly speaking) in the very near future? Many Jews of his day did and, it's hard to deny, so did much of the New Testament. I think this is an important theological question for Christians, but it isn't necessarily a new one. Albert Schweitzer made his plea for "thoroughgoing eschatology" a century ago, and popular apologist C.S. Lewis believed Jesus was mistaken about the timing of God's kingdom consummation.

Part 5 aims to tell us "Why Society Does Not Depend On Christian Faith." David Eller returns to erect a massive straw man when he says "Christianity Does Not Provide the Basis for Morality." He seems to think that if he points out there are many different moral systems, some religious and some not, that somehow demonstrates something. He's totally missed the boat on what Christian apologists are arguing.

Hector Avalos returns to say "Atheism Was Not the Cause of the Holocaust." Based on a recent radio discussion with a chief dialogue partner of his chapter, Benjamin Weikart, I think he has underestimated the appropriation of Darwinism as a foundation for Nazi ideology. Nevertheless, Christians cannot deny that a long religious history of anti-Semitism is also integral.

Richard Carrier has the last word with his "Christianity Was Not Responsible for Modern Science." Thankfully, he's not arguing the tired old "war of science and religion" meme that says the Dark Ages were caused by some outright Christian opposition to empirical research. His argument is more nuanced but diminished by failing to engage substantially with historians of science who give Christianity a positive role in fostering modern science: i.e., David C. Lindberg, Edward Grant, and James Hannam. Carrier has a lot to say about his beloved ancient scientists but little to say about why we got the so-called "Dark Ages" in the first place (hint: it wasn't the Christians) or whether it is appropriate to essentially dismiss the Middle Ages as "one thousand years of nothing" in terms of scientific and technical advancement.

I'm taking some steps back away from this bout of intellectual obsessiveness, and I believe it can only be to the betterment of my overall spiritual and mental health. In that twisted sort of way that God's providence works, however, it happens to be the case that this spring flowering is an outcome of the intense reading period. I think you can call it grace when a practice out of balance sows the seeds of its own demise.

During this period that heavily confirmed my Enneagram personality type as "The Thinker," with all the characteristic weaknesses on full display, I began reading Mind in the Balance: Meditation in Science, Buddhism and Christianity. The author, B. Alan Wallace, is a Buddhist practitioner, former Tibetan monk (though of Jewish ethnicity), and a prominent figure in science-and-Buddhism conversations. This book was written in response to a request by his Christian stepdaughter to offer an accessible guide to meditation for that all-important demographic: "ordinary" persons. Wallace answers that request with a book that alternates between short, how-to chapters and longer theoretical chapters that relate meditative experience to the guidance of Buddhist and Christian practitioners and to the findings of science, which Wallace believes present important confirmation that their advice is grounded in reality as such.

I'm not quite finished with the book yet, but it is obvious that, while giving helpful instruction for engaging meditative practice, Wallace does not really remain "in the balance" between science, Buddhism, and Christianity. In the end, he cannot overcome his passion as a Buddhist apologist, and the further one journeys with him the less one hears the testimony of Christian mystics or modern physicists and the more one is encouraged to nod the head as distinctly Buddhist doctrines are allegedly verified.

Perhaps Mind in the Balance may still ultimately prove to be a fruitful resource despite the narrowing of its vision as it progresses. For now, meanwhile, the greatest benefit I have drawn from Wallace has been chasing one of his citations and purchasing another book on contemplative practice. So my reading has turned to Martin Laird's Into the Silent Land: A Guide to the Christian Practice of Contemplation. Laird offers a refreshing, beautifully written, and practical manual for entering the journey of silent prayer. Of course, he's also an easier read given that I've bought the religious perspective he's selling. I grant what such luminaries as Thomas Merton have discovered, that there are notable parallels in Buddhist and Christian meditative practice, and I see as much in comparing descriptions in Mind in the Balance and Into the Silent Land. Whatever one makes of these congruences, the fact remains that what I seek in the silence, and what I expect to encounter, is the Triune God and not the Buddha-mind. Therefore I will stick with Laird as my chief guide for these first steps along the path.

I have said that I am stepping away from the intense reading period, but so far I have compared notes between two books. Now I must get to the point which is, quite naturally, to draw out of the reading that I may begin the practicing. Over the past two weeks I have begun tentatively engaging in contemplative prayer. Following Laird's structure, my experiment with stillness (hesychia for you Orthodox cats) has been grounded in the repetition of a prayer phrase - the Jesus Prayer, to be exact. I have started with brief periods of stillness, just ten to fifteen minutes at most. I have not done this every night, or even most nights. But at least I have started.

In truth this period is a bit of a warm-up for Lent. I have decided that my Lenten discipline will be a daily practice of contemplative prayer, and I am aiming for at least twenty-five minutes of meditative silence each session. Ideally, each night will also include a preface of liturgical and intercessory prayer. However it takes shape, I want to avoid the typical behavior that turns Lent into a kind of isolated spiritual marathon. Properly understood, the preparatory journey to Easter is an effort toward transformation and greater sanctification and not a vigorous excursion from the routine that marks the majority of the year. In other words, Lent has been a grace-empowered discipline if one comes out of it with a redefinition of "the routine." I can't say for sure that I'll get there, but I know at least that I want to cooperate with the Holy Spirit in this.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner...

In recent years a movement in biblical scholarship has focused on "political" readings of the ancient texts. It has come to the attention of many researchers that the authors and compilers of Scripture did not limit themselves, as per Enlightenment demarcations of categories, to merely "spiritual" concerns over against the flesh-and-blood pains and hopes of the people around them and the world entire. Rather, as an anthology of communities frequently beaten down by the titanic forces of history, yet retaining a stubborn faith in the justice of God, the Bible repeats a refrain of opposition to the inhumane and idolatrous cruelties of the hegemonic imperial projects that come and go while the people remain.

Genesis 1 "democratizes" the image of God from a concept of the Mesopotamian kings as divine representatives elevated above the populace to a shared responsibility among all men and women to "reign" on the earth as God's representatives. Genesis 11 mocks the pretensions of Babylon with a tale of a tower built by hegemony but struck down by God's intent for diversity. Various stipulations in the legal code seek to thwart the accumulation of wealth and inequality in society. The prophets rail against the Temple ceremonies as empty ritual so long as idolatry exists and the poor are crushed.

As the Advent season draws to a close, with the eve of the feast coming tomorrow, it is helpful to consider how the three birth narratives of the New Testament continue the biblical critique against the oppression and violence of empire.

After the birth of Jesus in chapter 1, Matthew 2 continues the story with the visit of the magi or "wise men" from the Parthian Empire. They come looking for the rightfully born "king of the Jews." The very question challenges the legitimacy of Herod the Great, an Idumean client-king installed by the Romans whose faith is questionable at best. This king is no heir born to Herod's line. Moreover, that the magi have come from beyond the boundaries of the Roman Empire to honor the rightful heir of David calls into question the borders and sovereignties of both Rome and Persia and foreshadows the calling forth of a fellowship that transcends earthly barriers and divisions. As Paul would say in Ephesians 2, Christ has broken down the dividing wall of hostility.

This episode also reveals how the illusory pax Romana is maintained through oppressive violence. Herod's "severe response is typical of the ways that tyrannical rulers remove any possible threat to their power" (Warren Carter, "Matthew Negotiates the Roman Empire," in In the Shadow of Empire, Richard Horsley, ed., 119). The "golden age" that has been declared by Augustus is maintained by the paranoid exercise of force that slaughters the innocent as necessary "collateral damage" to maintain the order of things.

Luke's gospel is especially concerned with the plight of the poor and marginalized. His birth narrative is preceded by two songs of liberation and socioeconomic revolution that echo the Jubilee rules of the Torah and the Maccabean revolt against Antiochus Epiphanes 160 years before Jesus' birth. The Magnificat of Mary announces her royal son as "an agent of radical social change" (John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus, 22). The strength of God's arm will stretch out to "scatter the proud" and bring down "the mighty from their thrones." Those who are humble will be exalted and the hungry will be filled, while the rich elite who control resources and command obedience will be "sent away empty." Mary's confidence in this sociopolitical role reversal is so strong that she sings in the past tense: proleptically this has already been accomplished in Gabriel's annunciation. Zechariah, meanwhile, whose wife has just given birth to John the Baptist, prophesies that God will deliver his people from their enemies so that they may serve him without fear. Light will shine in the darkness and "guide our feet into the [true] way of peace."

Luke situates the birth of Jesus as an event in history, occurring in the shadow of Caesar Augustus. The emperor commands the world at will, ordering a census for the purposes of taxation and greater exploitation. Joseph and Mary are forced to temporarily migrate for the purpose of the registration, yet Augustus becomes yet another unwitting accomplice in the purposes of Israel's God. After Jesus is born in the foretold location of Bethlehem, God's supernatural messengers appear to shepherds - marginal figures near the bottom of the socioeconomic pyramid. These poor laborers of society are the first to hear the "good news" (euangelion) of the birth of a Savior and Lord in the city of Israel's great king. A "heavenly host" (read: army) of angels then proclaim glory to God and declare, in his name, the inauguration of peace among the peoples.

Luke contrasts Jesus with Augustus and declares the lower class Galilean the rightful ruler who commands loyalty. "Savior" was a title for Caesar who proclaimed "Peace and Security" throughout his empire, but now the angels have announced an alternative to his leadership (Richard Horsley, "Jesus and Empire," in Horsley, ed., 84). Throughout the Greek-speaking majority of Augustus' empire, his accession had been announced by messengers (angeloi) as "good news" (euangelion). Now this semi-technical term declares the accession by birth of the world's rightful Lord.

Finally, Revelation 12 recasts the Incarnation of Christ in apocalyptic imagery. This interlude in the text casts the people of God as a "woman clothed with the sun" and wearing a crown of twelve stars. She "gives birth" to a male child who will, in fulfillment of Psalm 2:9, "rule the nations with a rod of iron." But the birth is greeted by a hideous, red, seven-headed dragon, the latest instantiation of the ancient Near Eastern chaos monster, known otherwise by such names as Leviathan. Here, the dragon is representative of all evil and oppression, personified as the devil or Satan. The dragon seeks to devour the child (think Herod's rage, the temptation in the wilderness, opposition by the religious establishment, and Judas' betrayal all rolled into one metaphorical moment) yet the child is "taken up to heaven" and the war that occurs there symbolizes the victory over sin and death realized in the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ. The dragon goes off to "make war" on the rest of the woman's offspring, those who hold to the testimony of Jesus. Yet by sharing in his life they conquer the dragon through their witness and their willingness to be martyred for the faith.

The dragon calls up reinforcements in Revelation 13 - a beast out of the sea who imitates the dragon. The sea represents both chaos and foreign powers, and the description of the beast clearly identifies the Roman emperors as the oppressive power seeking false worship (the emperor cult of the eastern parts of the empire) and the destruction of those who refuse to honor them "properly." The rest of Revelation is a call to "patient endurance" in suffering, nonviolent resistance, and the assurance that the time given to the dragon and the beast "is short."

The beast is also a metaphor that can be extended through time to any period in need of an apocalyptic recasting of the powers and principalities at work in the world. Wes Howard-Brook and Anthony Gwyther, in their book Unveiling Empire: Reading Revelation Then and Now, propose that the Christian imagination now identify the oppression of global capitalism as the current instantiation of the beast that seeks worship and deserves resistance.

The recent financial crisis has demonstrated that global capital is indeed the beast that demands worship and support above all else, an empire that promises "peace and security" and warns that disloyalty to it will bring chaos and darkness. The Christmas story is a call to an alternative imagination and a confession that true peace and good news is found in a different sort of society and a different conception of loyalty and power. May Christians who stake their lives on this story, and fellow laborers toward justice and truth, offer a new song to sing - peace on earth, goodwill to all peoples.

I was in the grocery store yesterday when I noticed Dial had some liquid hand soap available in bags instead of bottles. Displayed prominently on the front were the words "Eco-Smart Refill." Dial claims that these bags tout a number of green credentials. First, because they are lighter and thinner than refill bottles, they use 67% less plastic. Their lighter mass means less energy involved in manufacture and transport and they take up less space in the landfill.

But wait a minute...the refill bottles are recyclable (although the tops are still not, I believe)! They don't have to go into the landfill at all. We may kid ourselves into thinking that improved standards and reduced volumes are environmentally-friendly, but there's nothing "green" about dumping garbage that will remain in place for thousands of years. The bag will be useful to human beings for about 1/10,000th of its lifetime before it is entombed - and that "lifetime" is only counting the years that the plastic holds together. For a long time after that, the broken down pieces of polymer will be present in nature and potentially dangerous.

If you want a more "eco-smart refill" then the bag needs to be re-usable itself, and Dial needs to set up a station at the store where you can take the bag to a spigot and pour soap into it again - rather like the grain containers at Whole Foods. It's a sign of our collective insanity that we slap the label of "refill" on something that is itself un-refillable.

Moreover, as long as we continue to use fossil-fuel-derived plastics there is nothing "eco-smart" about us. Plastics are based on an unsustainable process of extraction and refining and, even when many of them are recyclable, they still end up on the side of the road or in the great floating trash gyres of the oceans. Plastic pieces now outnumber phytoplankton in some areas of the sea, threatening to collapse the aquatic ecosystem. And, so those of us who recycle don't get too full of ourselves, it is important to realize that "recycling" of plastic often really means downcycling it into something that cannot be further recycled, only eventually dumped.

But people will probably fall for Dial's marketing in their efforts to match unwavering consumerism with twitches of do-goodism. So go green everyone - just destroy everything around you at a somewhat slower rate.