Lucky he didn’t ask about the Virgin Birth

Good quiz, written by Sven who’s a good guy.

You scored as Chalcedon compliant. You are Chalcedon compliant. Congratulations, you’re not a heretic. You believe that Jesus is truly God and truly man and like us in every respect, apart from sin. Officially approved in 451.

Chalcedon compliant

100%

Pelagianism

67%

Nestorianism

33%

Apollanarian

33%

Monophysitism

33%

Adoptionist

25%

Arianism

0%

Monarchianism

0%

Docetism

0%

Donatism

0%

Albigensianism

0%

Modalism

0%

Gnosticism

0%

Socinianism

0%

Are you a heretic?
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Prophecy and Peak Oil

One of the central strands of Christian thinking is that of the ‘Prophetic Imagination’ (see W Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination, Fortress Press 1978). The prophetic perspective centres on a distinction between the “Royal Consciousness” and the “alternative community”. Consider the experience of the Hebrew people in Egypt. The dominant classes established and promoted an ideology which allocated the Hebrews a particular role in that system – they were the slaves, and this denial of human freedom, this destruction of human nature, was a cause of tremendous pain and anguish – which the Lord hears. Brueggemann gives three elements of this Royal Consciousness, which he explicitly links to our modern life:

i) it is driven by an economics of affluence “in which we are so well off that pain is not noticed and we can eat our way around it” – we are fed sufficient soma to be tranquilised into acquiescence;
ii) the dominant politics are oppressive, “the cries of the marginal are not heard or are dismissed as the voices of kooks and traitors”; and
iii) the dominant religion is one of immanence – God made domestic and safe – “God is so present to us that his abrasiveness, his absence, his banishment are not noticed, and the problem is reduced to psychology”.

This is the situation in which Moses, the archetypal prophet, is called to serve the Hebrew people, and to lead them towards freedom in the promised land. This emphasis on freedom is crucial, as it is for a free life that the Hebrews have been released from Egypt. Brueggemann points out that at the centre of Moses’ ministry lies not a cry for social justice (criticism of the status quo – the ‘liberal’ idol) nor a reaffirmation of a familiar God (the idol of a comforting conservatism) but a radical call to become acquainted with the living God, who cannot be captured in our understandings but who is the only God who can set us free: “the point that prophetic imagination must ponder is that there is no freedom of God without the politics of justice and compassion, and there is no politics of justice and compassion without a religion of the freedom of God”.

Intimately woven in with this freedom of God is an acknowledgement of the pain of the oppressed, the pain which has been denied an outlet. Indeed, it is the explicit naming of this pain which generates the momentum for change, the avowal that something is wrong: “as long as the empire can keep the pretense alive that things are all right, there will be no real grieving and no serious criticism.”

So, rooted in this commitment of response to the living God, this acceptance of pain, the prophet Moses embarks upon the road of freedom, freedom for God’s people. This path begins with the imagination – setting the understanding of the people free so that they can discern that the Royal Consciousness, the status quo, is not permanent and given (is not God) and that it can be overthrown. Thus, as Brueggemann famously puts it, “The task of prophetic ministry is to nurture, nourish and evoke a consciousness and perception alternative to the consciousness and perception of the dominant culture”. This involves some element of prediction about the future, but those predictions have interest only in so far as they stand as criticisms over against the present; they do not stand independently of that context and are open to revision (eg Jonah’s message to Nineveh).

This alternative understanding first criticises the existing social arrangements, principally through attacking the ‘gods’ of the system, and then energises the alternative community through a promise of a different place, the promised land which is the living God’s intention for his people. In other words, through being rooted in a right understanding of God’s freedom, a new social community comes into being to properly reflect that sense.

It is in this context that the ten plagues must be understood, for the plagues represent the contest between the gods of the status quo, the gods of Egypt, and the living God working through Moses. To begin with, the powers that be are able to meet and match the actions which YHWH takes. Nothing changes and the power of Egypt remains intact – yet with the third plague the establishment fails: “The Gods of Egypt could not! The Scientists of the regime could not! The imperial religion was dead! The politics of oppression had failed! That is the ultimate criticism that the assured and alleged power of the dominant culture is now shown to be fraudulent.” The powers have been named, and in being named, they have been dethroned. Now that the dominant system has been unmasked as temporary, that its claims to divine eternity have been exposed, its foundations begin to crumble. “By the middle of the plague cycle Israel has disengaged from the empire, cries no more to it, expects nothing of it, acknowledges it in no way, knows it cannot keep its promises, and knows that nothing is either owed to it or expected of it. That is the ultimate criticism that leads to dismantling.”

Finally, once this has happened, the prophet comes into his own through the articulation of the new possibilities, which energises the new community. This is the exercise of the prophetic imagination – the conceiving of something new within the world. For it is this articulation that holds back despair as the old order breaks down. “It is the task of the prophet to bring to expression the new realities against the more visible ones of the old order. Energising is closely linked to hope. We are energised not by that which we already possess but by that which is promised and about to be given”. This articulation necessitates the development of new images and new metaphors with which to describe the Royal Consciousness, thus bringing it into open conflict with the claims of the living God. Ultimately, the alternative community is sustained by the highest form of language, doxology, the practice of its worship, for “Doxology is the ultimate challenge to the language of managed reality and it alone is the universe of discourse in which energy is possible.” Only worship sustains the hope which sustains the community, on its journey through the wilderness towards the promised land.

The analogies to our present situation, are, I trust, reasonably clear. We live within a Pharaonic system of oil based consumerism, and we are taught that it cannot be challenged, for to do so is to threaten the prosperity on which we all depend. It seems to me that the task of the Christian in this situation is to renew our prophetic imagination and to speak words of praise and hope which enable the development of a community which reflects the freedom of a loving God.

Specifically, I think we must:

i) identify the Royal Consciousness in all its aspects, not just Peak Oil, although that will inevitably be central;
ii) articulate the pain of the marginalised and oppressed who have no present voice or witness;
iii) challenge the claims to power made on behalf of the Royal Consciousness, with a view to demonstrating their emptiness;
iv) labour with confident expectation towards the dismantling of the present structures;
v) develop new communities which break away from obeisance to the Royal Consciousness, and which offer the opportunity of free life in the image of the free God;
vi) articulate a vision of hope, a promised land, on the other side of Peak Oil, which will sustain us through the transition period in the wilderness; and
vii) trust in God.

That is what I intend to spend the coming months working on.

The Virgin Birth

I struggle with a literal account of the Virgin Birth. Once upon a time I was 100% heretical – rejected Jesus’ incarnation and divinity; resurrection was a spiritual experience; giving sight to the blind was psychosomatic etc etc. Over time and with further study all of those heresies have fallen away, leaving my questions about the Virgin Birth feeling rather lonely and missing their old friends. Yet those questions don’t go away. I’m aware I’m unorthodox on this, but belief isn’t volitional. In particular, I find it deeply depressing to be lining up on the same side as John Spong (nothing personal) – but I’m sure God’s grace is active here as everywhere, and though I am a stubborn mule God will eventually prevail.

These thoughts were prompted by an interesting article here, where I disagreed with “without a Virgin Birth, it seems that the Incarnation falls by the wayside”. If someone could persuade me that that was true, then I’d be more sympathetic to the VB. Yet John’s gospel is by some measure the most incarnational of the four, and as John not only does not have the VB but there is even a suggestion that he is opposed to it, it seems perfectly plausible to have Incarnation without the VB.

In my memory is a letter quoted in a book on reactions to John Robinson’s ‘Honest to God’, from a “housewife” who said (paraphrase) that she had always found it difficult to relate to Jesus because she saw him as a Superman figure, with special abilities, and therefore not all that relevant to her life. From reading Robinson she had felt able to move closer to Him.

So the key issue for me is how to reconcile the VB with full-blooded humanity. Christ has to be one of us – and I can’t see how the VB allows him to be one of us. He must be one of us for ‘what he has not assumed he has not healed’.

I’m aware that I’m wrong – all the other heresies have been consistently overcome through the application of theological understanding (in other words, once I’ve realised what is being claimed, the objections tend to dissolve). I just haven’t got there yet. In so far as I ‘believe’ it, it is because I accept and trust the authority of the church, which has proven its truth to me in every other area. But I just don’t understand it – and that drives me nuts.

Ah well. I’ll keep plodding on.

What are gay men for?

Michael Vasey was a lovely man, whom I met a handful of times before his very untimely death. He sometimes asked the question, what are gay men for? Mark Vernon gives one answer here. “So what are gay men and lesbians for now? They are a reminder, in a world coloured by the cold calculations of competitiveness, that people can love one another.”

Misplacing the Apocalypse

Have a (brief) look at this site. It’s a very interesting perspective, and the main point can be simply stated: the earth can only support around 1.5 billion people sustainably; the rest are being sustained by easy access to fossil fuels (something like ten calories of fossil fuels for each calorie consumed). Thus, when the fossil fuels run out (soon) most people will die; more or less swiftly, more or less horribly.

Those who buy into this perspective are called ‘doomers’, and it seems to me that a theological perspective has something to say about the subject. For what I think we have is a use of apocalyptic language (“the world is going to end!”) abstracted away from a context in which it makes coherent sense. In other words, the foundation of the ‘doomer’ perspective is implicitly theological – and as such is open to theological critique.

Consider what Tom Wright says on apocalyptic language (from New Testament and the People of God) “Within the mainline Jewish writings of this period, covering a wide range of styles, genres, political persuasions and theological perspectives, there is virtually no evidence that Jews were expecting the end of the space-time universe. There is abundant evidence that they knew a good metaphor when they saw one, and used cosmic imagery to bring out the full theological significance of cataclysmic socio-political events. There is almost nothing to suggest that they followed the Stoics into the belief that the world itself would come to an end; and there is almost everything to suggest that they did not.”

In other words the primary use of apocalyptic language is as a critique of the political and economic status quo, and to express a longing, and expectation, that God’s judgement upon that status quo was coming. Apocalypse was the genre adopted by the downtrodden, those who were most victimised in the present arrangements – for obviously, if you benefited from the present arrangements you wouldn’t want to see them destroyed – and God’s judgement would ‘cast down the mighty from their thrones… and scatter the proud in the imagination of their hearts’. So apocalypse is driven by, at root, a righteous indignation and hatred of an existing political or social arrangement, and a longing and expectation that God will act to re-establish justice, ie the Kingdom of God.

It seems plausible to me that the ‘doomers’ share a hatred of the present system, yet it also seems plausible to me that their position cannot be reconciled with Christianity. “So what!” might be their response “who cares what theology has to say about this – theology is a useless waste of space!” – but hang on.

To accept the ‘doomer’ framework, is to assert that there is no way out from the present crisis – and that is to go beyond what the evidence as a whole supports. The evidence is clear that there is a major problem, but to assert that, eg, civilisation will come to an abrupt end is to move from the realm of demonstrable fact (imminent absence of resources on which we presently rely) to a contestable conjecture (there is nothing that we can do to mitigate the situation). At root, then, the ‘doomer’ perspective is a denial of hope, and a denial of the possibility of redemption. It is a theological perspective, not a scientific one.

Now it may well be the truth – it’s certainly possible that human civilisation is about to press the reset button and send us back to a Hobbesian state of nature. Yet it is equally possible that what we face is, eg, a cross between the black death and the 1930s, and that, just as in those situations (bad as they were) human society negotiates the passage more or less successfully, and we continue to move forward as a species and as a civilisation.

My point is simply that we cannot know what the future holds – despite all the suggestive parallels with Easter Island – because it hasn’t happened yet. So I repeat my point – those who have a convinced ‘doomer’ perspective are making a theological assertion, not a scientific one.

Now as a theological assertion, it is open to theological critique. The heart of the assertion is the denial of hope, and therefore of meaning, and it is therefore an embrace of nihilism, the notion that nothing matters (for if we are all going to die what is the point?). Hope is absolutely central to a Christian perspective – the insistence that God is acting within the world for our redemption, and that Christ came not to condemn the world but to save it. That there is no place to which we might fall which is beyond the reach of God’s creative Act – and therefore, no situation is as bleak as a nihilist might paint it. There is always point to what we do.

“If you knew that the world was going to end tomorrow, what would you do?”

“I would plant a tree.”

The Old Testament prophets cannot be bettered in their denunciation of a corrupt status quo. Listen to Hosea:

“Hear the Word of the Lord, O people of Israel;
for the Lord has a controversy with the inhabitants of the land.
There is no faithfulness or kindness,
and no knowledge of God in the land.
There is swearing, lying, killing, stealing, and committing adultery;
they break all bounds and murder follows murder.
Therefore the land mourns, and all who dwell in it languish,
and also the beasts of the field, and the birds of the air;
and even the fish of the sea are taken away.”

Or listen to Ezekiel:

“Therefore this is what the Sovereign LORD says: You have been more unruly than the nations around you and have not followed my decrees or kept my laws. You have not even conformed to the standards of the nations around you. Therefore this is what the Sovereign LORD says: I myself am against you, Jerusalem, and I will inflict punishment on you in the sight of the nations. Because of all your detestable idols, I will do to you what I have never done before and will never do again. Therefore in your midst fathers will eat their children, and children will eat their fathers. I will inflict punishment on you and will scatter all your survivors to the winds. Therefore as surely as I live, declares the Sovereign LORD, because you have defiled my sanctuary with all your vile images and detestable practices, I myself will withdraw my favor; I will not look on you with pity or spare you. A third of your people will die of the plague or perish by famine inside you; a third will fall by the sword outside your walls; and a third I will scatter to the winds and pursue with drawn sword.”

I trust that the resemblance between this language and the language and expectations of the ‘doomers’ is clear. Yet always with the OT prophets there is the promise of restoration, of a new heaven and a new earth. That is what the ‘doomers’ miss. As with Isaiah:

“A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;
from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.
The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him—
the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and of power,
the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD –
and he will delight in the fear of the LORD.
He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,
or decide by what he hears with his ears;
but with righteousness he will judge the needy,
with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth.
He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth;
with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked.
Righteousness will be his belt
and faithfulness the sash around his waist.
The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling together;
and a little child will lead them.
The cow will feed with the bear,
their young will lie down together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox.
The infant will play near the hole of the cobra,
and the young child put his hand into the viper’s nest.
They will neither harm nor destroy
on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD
as the waters cover the sea.”

It is a question of balance, and honesty. Balance in that the vision of apocalypse always offered a vision of hope for the faithful remnant, who would endure the tribulation and be brought back to a faithful and fulfilling life on the far side of the crisis. Honesty, more crucially, in that it requires an awareness of the limits to our knowledge, and therefore a consequent awareness of how far a more or less conscious perspective on the divine determines the interpretation of such evidence.

There is always hope; there are always things that we can do in the face of disaster; and at the heart of it all is the call to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly before our God. It is the absence of those virtues that has led us to the brink of disaster; it is the restoration of those virtues that will guide our people through the coming forty years in the desert.

So I say with the prophets:

Come let us return to the Lord; for He has torn us, and He will heal us.

Theologians in unlikely places

I didn’t know that Alex Kapranos studied theology at university.

Wonderful.

Some say you’re trouble, boy
Just because you like to destroy
All the things that bring the idiots joy –
Well, what’s wrong with a little destruction?

And the Kunst[?] won’t talk to you
Because you kissed St Rollo Adieu
Because you robbed a supermarket or two
Well, who gives a damn about the prophets of Tesco?

That last line might be ‘profits’ of Tesco of course…