Are We Witnessing the Death of a Culture?

notes-on-the-death-of-a-cultureNobel Laureate Mario Vargas Llosa, thinks so, and makes this contention in a new book, Notes on the Death of a Culture. I have not read the book but came across this excerpt today on Literary Hub. Llosa’s basic contention is that global entertainment culture has basically destroyed any intellectual, literary high culture, except as tourist spots for those who want to get their culture creds. He defines “entertainment culture” as a culture whose only value is profit.

What this article left me wondering is why entertainment is the only thing we value, whether it is in music videos, manga, or opiates. My wife and I have pondered why people give themselves over to such powerful addictive drugs, and the risk of fatal overdoses. All I can come up with is that we have become a culture that is living by the axiom of “let’s eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” And if that is the case, then indeed, we are witnessing the death of a culture. And it won’t matter who we elect as president.

Llosa is concerned that we no longer value great art, music, literature and the cultivation of the intellect that led to careful, reasoned discourse. My observation is that people need a reason to value goodness, truth and beauty. Telling them they should do so, particularly when mass culture offers such cheap and quick thrills, is just not going to cut it. What is it that makes us defer instant gratification for the hard work of dissecting a careful argument, of meditatively studying a great work of art, of penetrating the depths of a beautiful but complex piece of music? What is it that drives us to devote our lives to producing such works, or other cultural artifacts of distinctive excellence?

I wonder if at the root of it all is a deep sense of hope that what we are doing matters, and will matter long after our physical death. And I wonder whether the notion that we live on in our work is enough. Woody Allen dispelled that long ago for me in the movie Interiors, when a character remarks after a death, in response to this sentiment, “what does that matter when you are dead?”

Llosa comments on T.S. Eliot, whose sense of the life of a culture was that it was bound up with religious faith. And what religious faith (in Eliot’s case as well as my own, Christianity) offers is hope. Why else would we care for the pursuit of goodness, truth, and beauty, the quest for the transcendent if there is nothing to be transcended. Can a culture exist without hope? And we witness this in our political campaigns, whether they promise expanded employment, or simply to make us “great” again. In the turn to mass entertainment and to narcotizing our pain, aren’t we admitting that none of these chimeras of hope is enough?

People in many quarters are dismissive of religion today, and Christianity in particular. And yet isn’t it the hope of life everlasting, and the consciousness of a reckoning of one’s life that drove the cathedral builders, the great artists, the founders of universities, composers like Bach, and many great writers? From whence did ideas of the rule of law, even over kings come from? Isn’t this what also drove people like newly sainted Mother Teresa to leave the comforts of home for the streets of Calcutta (Kolkata)? If we dismiss religious faith, what will we put in its place to give life to our culture, and hope that is meaningful for the many?

Review: No Place for Abuse

No Place for Abuse

No Place for Abuse (2nd ed.), Catherine Clark Kroeger & Nancy Nason-Clark. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2010.

Summary: Written for Christian communities, this work chronicles the extent of domestic violence and abuse, the presence and factors that contribute to domestic violence in households in our churches, relevant biblical texts that address domestic violence, and steps church leaders can take to address domestic violence in their midst.

Perhaps the most sobering portion of this book is the twenty plus pages that document the extent and prevalence of domestic violence, much of it against women, throughout the world. More sobering yet is that the authors show how domestic violence also occurs in churches, sometimes aided by a cloak of silence and cover-ups rather than constructive pastoral care and congregational leadership that brings this issue to light and makes utterly clear the unacceptability of any form of abuse against men or women among those claiming to be disciples of Jesus.

The authors show how much time pastors engaged in pastoral counseling spend addressing issues of abuse. They also delineate in an early chapter both unhelpful attitudes that allow violence to continue, and steps pastors and leaders can take to become aware, to provide support and shelter, and to educate their congregations including their youth (who need to understand the dangers of abuse in dating).

The authors move beyond description to discuss the biblical texts that make clear that violence against marital partners is unacceptable. They also discuss passages around marriage and divorce that sometimes make it more difficult than it already is for victims of domestic violence to seek help and safety. Often the idolization and idealization of marriage and family pressures victims to remain in dangerous situations, sometimes at the tragic cost of their lives.

There is also frank material about both repentance and forgiveness, the possibility of behavioral change by abusers, and yet a realistic acknowledgement that many abusers continue to abuse. What is most important, it seems to me in this work, is that it doesn’t “heal wounds lightly” and yet addresses how forgiveness (while acknowledging the difference between forgiveness and reconciliation) may be healing for victims. It acknowledges that abusers may need to live with the consequences of broken relationships and submit themselves to accountability in the Christian community.

The concluding chapters summarize the important steps churches can take to address domestic violence and the authors commend the RAVE Project (Religion and Violence E-learning) website (www.theraveproject.org) as a resource both for victims and for churches. The final chapter includes a tour of the site (which still seems to basically be set up on the lines described in the book, although not very mobile-friendly).

In addition to the book serving as a primer for churches who want to counteract domestic violence, the book seeks to bridge the gap between social work and theology on this issue, beginning with the authors, one a seminary professor and the other a sociologist. They argue eloquently that the silence in many churches around these issues needs to be broken:

“Many voices declare that the church has caused men to be violent toward their wives or at least provided fertile soil for men’s mistreatment of power within their families. They argue that since the church is part of the problem, it cannot be part of the solution. Thus when violence against women is being discussed, God’s people are seldom consulted. Since we speak out so infrequently about violence, our collective voice is hardly ever heard on this issue. Generally speaking, leaders in religious organizations and those involved in community pastoral care are rarely invited to participate at the secular consultation table. The silence of our churches and our leaders is often interpreted in the public square as complicity with violent acts.” (p. 19)

It is troubling to me to observe in the time since this book was published that much of the discussion in the church has been around gender roles, and gender and sexual identity while the scourge of violence, mostly against women, continues, accompanied by our silence. It is troubling to me that our loudest and most consistent voices against this evil are not from within but outside the church, because this represents the abandonment of a distinctive mark of Christian communities from the very earliest days of Christianity, where the victims of violence and abandonment were protected, sheltered, cared and advocated for. In calling attention to this book, I hope some church leaders, both in this country and elsewhere, will pick up the book, visit the RAVE Project website, and consider how their congregations might become “no places for abuse.”

 

Review: Banker to the Poor

Banker to the Poor

Banker to the Poor, Muhammad Yunus. New York: Public Affairs, 2003.

Summary: Yunus’ personal account of developing micro-lending and the Grameen Bank to help lift the rural poor out of poverty by providing the small loans they needed to develop their own small businesses.

How often does it happen that a person has an epiphany, a revelatory moment that changes their lives? For Muhammad Yunus, brought up in a merchant family, and as a Fulbright scholar representing the “best and brightest” of a Bengali elite that would achieve independence in Bangladesh, the future looked promising. Returning to Chittagong, he became chair of the university’s economics department. Then came studies of the really poor in Jobra, a village near the university, and the day that he realized that 42 stool makers lacked the resources they needed to buy raw materials, tallied up the need and discovered that all they lacked was $27, which he promptly lent them himself.

At the time, banks would not give loans in such small amounts, and moneylenders charged usuri0us rates that only drove them deeper into debt. And so Yunus conceived the idea of micro-lending. In this book, we follow the narrative of the development of the Grameen (“rural”) Bank from the initial pilot project to expansion to neighboring villages and the eventual chartering of the bank. He recounts the development of its innovative lending practices (for example, no collateral, no lengthy applications, weekly payments on loans) and the conviction that the poor had the initiative and character to both develop businesses and pay back loans (typically Grameen-style banks had repayment rates between 98 and 100 percent). He describes the organization of borrowers into groups of five who all must pass a test before receiving their loans, who hold each other accountable for loan repayment without being liable for non-payments, and the setting aside of additional funds in a group loan fund, against emergencies. These groups actually acquire an ownership stake in the bank. Underlying all this is a basic trust in the borrowers, along with good structures that help with financial development.

Along the way, Yunus describes the cultural and business challenges that had to be overcome. What is striking is the gentle persistence of Yunus and an ability both to respect and creatively engage existing institutions and cultures, whether it is working out a charter for his bank, or dealing with male objections to women borrowing. One is also taken with his vision for the poorest of the poor, who he believes simply need the resources to help themselves. It is obvious that he infuses that vision in his staff, who often pass up better jobs because of the social mission of Grameen.

The latter part of the book describes the extension of Grameen Bank ideas to other nations, including the poorest of the poor in the United States. It is humorous to see how hosts in this country would bring to Yunus small business people who needed loans, when Yunus wanted to meet with the poorest of the poor, those who didn’t have businesses, but simply an idea of what they could do to support themselves if they had the money to get started.

The book concludes with Yunus’ account of the development of various Grameen enterprises (including village phones, telecommunications, textiles and fisheries), the roll-out of Grameen II, further developing Grameen’s principles, and a final chapter on his passionate endorsement of the Millenium Development Goals to eradicate poverty, particularly among the bottom twenty percent of the world’s poor.

While Yunus talks about setbacks and challenges, most of these have to do with, or are attributed to external factors. It seems we hear almost exclusively of success stories and not much of failures or organizational mistakes. The book makes a strong case for the promise of micro-lending, but doesn’t explore the limitations or other factors in economic development. Perhaps that would distract from the story he is trying to tell but a greater place for discussion of these matters would give less the sense of micro-lending as a panacea rather than as a useful practice.

The book ends in 2003. Muhammad Yunus and the Grameen Bank were jointly awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2006. In 2011, the Bangladeshi government forced Yunus to resign his post at Grameen Bank due to age (he was 72). In 2013, the government passed the Grameen Bank Act, allowing it to make rules for any aspect of bank operations. Whether the Grameen Bank will continue to serve the poorest of the poor as it was conceived to do thus is an open question. What is clear however is that Yunus developed a model of micro-lending to the poorest of the poor, built on belief in their initiative and trust that they will repay, that has contributed to growing self-sufficiency for many individuals and economic development in many settings of poverty with lessons applicable throughout the world. In an era increasingly concerned about “helping that hurts” this account offers a model of “helping that helps” worthy of our attention.

 

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Washington School

Mahoning Youngstown Washington

Washington School. Source unknown, reproduced from Old Ohio Schools website: http://www.oldohioschools.com/mahoning_county.htm (no attribution given)

Labor Day marked not only the end of summer but the beginning of a new school year. I grew up on North Portland Avenue on the lower West side. For my first seven years of school (1959-1966), this meant walking down the street to Washington School, at the corner of North Portland and Oakwood Avenue. My mom bought our house while my dad was in the service during World War II and she and her father chose it to be near the school.

Washington School was an old building even when I started school. The original part of the building was built c.1912 with possible additions in 1914 and somewhere around 1918-1920 when longtime superintendent of schools N. H. Chaney retired (from whom Chaney High School got its name). At that time, there was a twenty room addition in process. The building formed a giant L and my hunch is that the side facing N. Portland was built first. The east-west wing connecting to the south end of the wing on Portland was probably built later. There was a drive or alley between the school and houses on Portland and Lakeview Avenues.

Like so many of these old school buildings, Washington had big windows, high ceilings, wood floors in the classrooms and steam heat that heated classrooms through radiators. No doubt there were huge amounts of asbestos and lead paint (how did we survive?). There were two floors of classrooms. The school office was just inside the front entrance off of Portland. There was a basement with a cafeteria. What I most remember about the basement was the PTA Bazaars that were held there every year. When I was young I looked forward to those bazaars because they sold small toys, candy and would also have prizes.

School assemblies and class pictures would take place in the auditorium which was way down in the sub-basement. It seemed like we would descend endless flights of stairs whenever there were one of these functions. I think this was also one of the places we would go for civil defense drills (this was the era of the Cuban missile crisis).

The playground was located on the inside of the “L” filling the space bounded by Oakwood and North Lakeview. The playground and the sides of the building bordering it looked out over the steel mills as well as an entrance ramp to I-680 off of Oakwood, once this was built. Many of us might look at those mills and think of fathers or relatives who worked there or of the expectation at the time that someday we might work there. I still have memories of dodge ball, kick ball and all the other games we played. In the summers, my friends and I would play baseball there, until we had matured to the point that we were constantly knocking the ball onto Oakwood or the freeway.

What I most remember is all of the teachers I had and the foundation of a good education they gave me. Kindergarten was Mrs. McDermott. I missed about half of that year due to repeated illness, until I had my tonsils out. First and second grade were Mrs. Smith who could be stern but really cared and recognized even then that I loved to read. Third grade was Mrs Fusek. Between her and the school nurse they figured out that I was seriously near-sighted and needed glasses. Miss Adamiak was my fourth grade teacher. I particularly remember her love of science, and sitting in her classroom in November of 1963 when the announcement came over the PA that President Kennedy had been shot. Mrs. Vidis was our fifth grade teacher. She was strict and tough and when she saw I was being lazy pushed me to work harder and up to my ability. In sixth grade, I had Mrs. Welch, who was somewhat thin and wispy but could control a class of rambunctious pre-teens. For some reason what I most remember of that year was a unit we did on the United Nations.

Miss Stage was the principle during much of the time I was at Washington. She was a formidable gray-haired woman and you didn’t want to be sent to the office. Discipline was strict, you walked in lines to cafeterias and bathrooms but under it all, I had the sense of having teachers who really cared about teaching us and giving us what we would need to succeed in life. I also remember Mr Kollar, the custodian, who kept the heat on in that old school and kept it spotless. That must have been hard work!

The site where Washington School once stood is now a gently sloping field. In 1964, there were 26,000 baby boom students in Youngstown schools. With declining enrollments, Washington School was closed sometime around the early 1980’s, and I believe the students who would have attended there were sent to West Elementary or Stambaugh. For a time there was talk of it being turned into apartments but I suspect the costs would have been prohibitive. The windows were broken and boarded up. For a time, it continued to serve as the neighborhood precinct as a room off of Oakwood was opened for voting. Finally, the heating became unreliable and that, too, ended and the building was torn down, like a number of other schools.

While I was saddened to see the school go, I understood. Times had changed. It was too expensive to operate with inefficient heat and other problems. One could dwell on this, but I prefer to remember the good teachers, the classmates, and experiences that made this a good place when I was there.

Review: After College

After College

After College, Erica Young Reitz. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2016.

Summary: A faith-oriented guide to navigating the transition from college to early adulthood, exploring issues of faith, relationships, community, work, calling and finances.

Much has been made about the loss of faith that sometimes occurs among youth who go to college. Less attention is given to the deepening of faith of others or the spiritual awakening of some that occurs during college. Even less have there been good discussions of how believing students navigate the transition to post-collegiate early adulthood. Until now.

Erica Young Reitz, who has led the Senior EXIT program, a senior year college transition program at Penn State, has given us a kind of roadmap describing the transitions post-collegians face, and what it means to live faithfully to Christ in a new situation. In her introduction, she writes:

“Leaving the gates of university life often comes with the expectation that we’re ready for what’s on the other side. But what does readiness even mean? Some students feel ready in September of their senior year (get me out of here!) while others—who may actually be more equipped for the “real world” than they realize—dread college coming to a close. In the scurry of résumé preparations and job applications, it’s easy to reduce readiness to our emotions about entering adulthood or to a list of key items necessary for life on our own.”

The first part of the book explores what faithfulness to Christ looks like in this new situation. She explores what it is like to go, like Abraham, with God into the unknown. She considers our expectations of “normal” and whether these have room for adversity, in which we might experience taking up the cross in new ways. She explores the big question of discerning God’s will, especially when faced with a myriad of choices.

Part two then explores what faithfulness looks like in community. She honestly discusses finding new friends post-college and the challenge to become hospitable people. She talks about finding a church, with some helpful material for those who have experienced different forms of abuse in their church experience. She talks about the diversity of people we will encounter and going out of our comfort zones. She gives very practical counsel on the matter of parents and moving from dependence through independence to a healthy form of interdependence. She candidly discusses dating, sex, and marriage, post-college. I especially appreciated her practical counsel about not living together while saving up for the storybook wedding, which seems to be the narrative of many young couples.

The final part of the book concerns living out our calling faithfully in the world. She includes chapters on stewarding every area of life for the kingdom, dealing with the realities of the workplace, and our handling of finances. She offers a very practical discussion of workplace realities and what it might practically mean to “bless” our co-workers. In the area of finance, she offers helpful resources including a budget planning sheet and challenges the assumption that it is necessary to take on large car loans and consumer debt, freeing one to use more resources for kingdom aspirations.

The book is informative without being preachy, using a number of stories while also giving very practical tips. Reitz helps people understand how this period is a kind of liminal space that may feel disorienting or painful, and how to live as a person of faith in this time. Each chapter concludes with “Going Deeper” questions that could be used individually or in a group discussing the book. There are passages for scripture study as well as a few additional relevant books suggested.

This is a great gift for graduating students. Even better, it would make a great discussion resource for a semester discussion with a group of seniors. The issues Reitz raises also raise important questions for those of us working in collegiate ministry. Are we waiting until senior years to talk about things like the will of God, community, work and calling, money and sexuality? We probably talk about sexuality before then, but what about the others? Are we simply mentoring students for our mission on campus or also for their mission in life? After College is a great resource to help students navigate this crucial transition from the former to the latter.

 

The Month in Reviews: August 2016

Silence and Beauty

I often take advantage of a lighter schedule in summer to read quite a bit. This month was an illustration of that rhythm. I read a couple of books surveying the Bible for what it says about money (quite a bit), and one on what can happen in our lives spiritually when we don’t have it. I read about Jefferson’s explorers whose coming signaled a threat to the way of life of Native Americans, and some fiction by Sherman Alexie on the realities of reservation life. I began the month with Makoto Fujimura’s reading of Shusaku Endo’s Silence, and ended with Richard Mouw’s reflections on the scholarly life with a fictional exploration of the inner life of Dmitri Shostakovich and a history of the innovatively prolific Bell Labs and much more in between.

Silence and Beauty

Silence and Beauty, Makoto Fujimura (foreward by Philip Yancey). Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2016.  A “layered” reflection on Shusaku Endo’s Silence by a Japanese-American artist that explores the Christian experience of persecution in Japan, and the connections between silence, suffering, and beauty, that may draw contemporary Japanese to faith. (Review)

Covenant Economics

Covenant Economics: A Biblical Vision of Justice for All, Richard A. Horsley. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. A biblical study of how God’s covenant with Israel, including the New Testament appropriation of that covenant was intended to shape economic life and justice for Israel and “assemblies” in the New Testament era, with application to modern economic life and the “covenant” our government has with its people. (Review)

Jeffeerson's America

Jefferson’s AmericaJulie M. Fenster. New York: Crown, 2016. An account of how Jefferson used the efforts of four teams of men comprising less than a hundred total to establish America’s hold on the lands west of the Mississippi River. (Review)

Unparalleled

Unparalleled, Jared C. Wilson. Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2016. A book that makes the case for Christianity by proposing that the unique elements in Christian faith’s account of God, humanity, Jesus, salvation, history, and the end make it  both worthy and credible. (Review)

Bad Religion - No Religion

The Answer to Bad Religion is Not No Religion, Martin Thielen. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014. Discusses the characteristics of “bad religion”, contending that the answer is not to reject religion altogether but to embrace “good religion”, the marks of which are discussed. (Review)

the lost world of genesis one

The Lost World of Genesis OneJohn H. Walton. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2009. Walton argues from our knowledge of the ancient cultures in Israel’s context that Genesis 1 is a functional account of how the cosmos is being set up as God’s temple rather than an account of material origins. (Review)

The noise of time

The Noise of TimeJulian Barnes. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2016. A work of fiction, exploring the inner world of composer Dmitri Shostakovich, as he seeks both to survive and maintain artistic integrity in the totalitarian milieu of Soviet Russia under Stalin and Khrushchev. (Review)

Embracing the Body

Embracing the BodyTara M. Owens. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2015. An invitation to move beyond guilt and shame around our embodied selves to discover the goodness of our bodies and how God made us, meets us, and works through our bodied lives. (Review)

Lone Ranger and Tonto

The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, Sherman Alexie. New York: Grove Press, 2013 (20th Anniversary edition, first published 1993).  A collection of short stories all relating to growing up on a Spokane Indian reservation. (Review)

Broke

Broke, Caryn Rivadeneira. Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2014. The author reflects on the experience of losing nearly all financially, and what she learned by being broke and broken about the provision and abundance of God. (Review)

Called to community

Called to CommunityCharles E. Moore (ed.). Walden, NY: Plough Publishing House, 2016. A collection of readings on Christian community centered around the Bruderhof Community but also including theologians and writers from throughout church history. (Review)

The Idea Factory

The Idea Factory, Jon Gertner. New York: The Penguin Press, 2012. An account of the history of Bell Labs, the inventions and innovations they produced, and the confluence of people, resources, and the growth of the telecommunications revolution that drove it all. (Review)

Money-and-Possessions

Money and Possessions (Interpretation: Resources for the Use of Scripture in the Church), Walter Brueggemann. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2016. A survey of the teaching of canonical scripture on the subject of money and possessions focusing on these as gift of God, meant for the mutual benefit of neighbors, and marred by extractive economics creating disparities of rich and poor, privileged and oppressed. (Review)

Called to the life of the Mind

Called to the Life of the Mind, Richard J. Mouw. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2014. A collection of reflective essays by one of the deans of evangelical scholarship on the calling and importance of the Christian scholarly task. (Review)

Best of the Month: As is often the case this is a tough one. Julian Barnes The Noise of Time was an intriguing exploration of the inner tensions Shostakovich may have wrestled with holding artistic integrity and survival in tension. But I have to give the nod to Makoto Fujimura’s Beauty and Silence for its thoughtful exploration of Japanese culture, Endo’s novel Silence, and the troubled history of Christianity in Japan.

Quote of the Month: This eloquently articulated statement summed up for me the central message of Caryn Rivendeira’s Broke and suggested to me that this is a Christian writer we may want to watch:

“We survived. I kept breathing. I kept stepping. And somewhere in the cracks, along the ragged edges of my marriage, in the desperate gasps of sudden poverty and all the questions that came with it, there was God. Big and glittering, soft and warm, smiling and beckoning. Somehow in the shimmers of all that, I began to taste and see, and feel and know, and hear and smell that God is good, and he was there in the broke bits. That he was using our time near the poverty line, treading in debt, to draw me near, to make me over, to answer a prayer bigger than my material needs. In this season of spiritual and financial brokenness, in this time of longing to know what God was up to and to experience his goodness and presence, God worked me over by showing me where and how I could find him. Which is all over the place. In every last thing, He satisfied my wonderlust–my unquenchable desire to feel his presence and to experience his glory. And I found him. And I found him good.”

Coming Soon: I just finished reading a book that will be my “go to” resource with graduating students, After College by Erica Young Reitz. Look for a review of it in the next day or so. I’ve also picked up a compendium of articles titled Eschatology, on this endlessly fascinating question of our future hope and how this may unfold. I’m nearly finished with Muhammad Yunus’ Banker to the Poor, his engaging account of the beginnings of Grameen Bank, a pioneering effort in micro-lending. I’ve just begun Rachel Carson’s The Sea Around Us, one of her earliest publications about the oceans that occupy so much of our planet’s surface. And I will be reviewing a book soon I’ve already mentioned in a recent post, No Place for Abuse, on the epidemic of physical and sexual violence and what at least churches can do to address the instances of this scourge in our midst. I also have two fun books I hope to read soon from my son and his wife: a baseball book by Michael Shapiro, Bottom of the Ninth and an intriguingly titled book by Jon Ronson, So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed on how social media has taken public shaming to a new level.

Oh, and I could add so many more. But I think I will end here and wish you at least a few hours happy reading over the upcoming Labor Day holiday (for those living in the U. S.).

 

 

Review: Called to the Life of the Mind

Called to the life of the Mind

Called to the Life of the Mind, Richard J. Mouw. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2014.

Summary: A collection of reflective essays by one of the deans of evangelical scholarship on the calling and importance of the Christian scholarly task.

This is an absolute gem of a book!

Rarely am I so effusive about a title but this short collection of pithy essays that I devoured in an afternoon is a quite wonderful gift to anyone who loves Christ and loves scholarly work and wonders what a life pursuing these loves might look like.

Mouw begins by admitting his own surprise in discovering his vocation as a scholar, having grown up in a conservative evangelicalism in which, “you don’t need exegesis, you just need Jesus.” He discusses the “accusing voices” that considered the intellectual life dangerous to the soul, concluding that while there is something to those warnings, it is possible to be both a rigorous scholar and a devout lover of God. He affirms the value of scholarship against the larger value of God’s kingdom, the importance of the tedious intellectual “calisthenics” necessary for the fruit of rigorous scholarship, and the value of not needing to make hasty applications of what we discover.

He goes on to explore how evangelical scholars engage the wider scholarly world, eschewing either withdrawal or “takeover.” He pleads for a scholarship that is both humble and hopeful, that recognizes that all the Kuyperian “square inches” over which Jesus is Lord belong to him but will only be perfectly known by us in eternity. He speaks of the communal character of Christian scholarly work, that scholars may help one another in a “shared commitment to creative teaching and scholarship.”

I found this last proposal particularly intriguing, as Mouw framed this in terms of an academic “religious order” in which Christian scholars working at Christian institutions might also encourage the “dispersed believers” working at more secular institutions. Engaging the conversation about a “Benedict option“, he calls rather for a more truly Benedictine-type engagement that both strengthens the church and has a renewing influence in the world.

The concluding essays discuss the unique opportunity of the academy as a safe place for intellectual exploration, the various roles played in academia from serious scholarship to “populizers”, the hopes and fears of academic pilgrimage with its unknowns, the dangers of critique becoming a way of life, rather than a moment during our work, and the unique perspective we have because we believe in creation–that truth is a discovery of creation and not a creation in and of itself.

In his last essays, he returns to the theme of humility and hope, concluding with these words:

“If we effectively appropriate these attitudes — humility and hope — we can display the kind of patience that is capable of tolerating complexities and living with seemingly unconnected particularities without giving in to despair or cynicism. To show forth this kind of approach to intellectual complexities is to perform an important ministry — a Christ-like ministry — in the present day academy.”

This collection of essays is one that I would suggest every Christian scholar keep handy for those moments when one may be tempted to cynicism or despair about the future of the academy or is in need of a refreshed vision for one’s calling. Joining Mouw in his reflections on the humble and hopeful task of scholarly work under Christ may be just the encouraging word needed to enable one to press on in the academic journey.

Review: Money and Possessions

Money-and-Possessions

Money and Possessions (Interpretation: Resources for the Use of Scripture in the Church), Walter Brueggemann. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2016 (forthcoming September 2, 2016)

Summary: A survey of the teaching of canonical scripture on the subject of money and possessions focusing on these as gift of God, meant for the mutual benefit of neighbors, and marred by extractive economics creating disparities of rich and poor, privileged and oppressed.

I’ve often remarked that the Bible has more to say about money than heaven or hell or a host of other topics. What we often treat as “nobody’s business” the scriptures treat as a matter of deep concern to God. And that is clearly evident in this new book by venerable Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann.

Brueggeman proposes six theses that he believes summarize the teaching of the biblical texts:

  1. Money and possessions are gifts of God.
  2. Money and possessions are received as rewards for obedience.
  3. Money and possessions belong to God and are held in trust by human persons in community.
  4. Money and possessions are sources of social injustice.
  5. Money and possessions are to be shared in a neighborly way.
  6. Money and possessions are seductions that lead to idolatry.

The rest of the book considers the different parts of the canon and how these illustrate and develop these theses. He begins with the Pentateuch and the tenth commandment’s prohibition of coveting, emblematic of the breakdown of neighborly sharing of resources. He explores the development of the kingdom of Israel, the hopes of justice and the ways kings become involved in “extractive” practices (one of Brueggemann’s favorite words for social injustices around money). The psalms focus on both Torah and Temple and source money and possessions in the gifts of God, the worship of God, and the trust reposed in kings. Turning to the prophets, we see their message against idolatrous wealth, the loss of exile, and restoration and another chance at neighborliness. The five festal scrolls include the tale of Ruth, a marvelous illustration of loss and redemption with economic implications.

Turning to the New Testament, we see how much money and possessions play a role in the teaching of Jesus who proposes an alternative economy for an alternative kingdom. In Acts we witness the extension of neighborly community against the backdrop of the ultimate extractive empire of imperial Rome. Paul’s works speak of divine generosity (“grace”) to be mirrored in human generosity epitomized in Paul’s collections for Jerusalem. The Pastorals and James warn of the dangers of riches and partiality to the rich and the requirements of true religion. Revelation speaks of the ultimate alternative to Rome (Brueggemann takes a preterist reading believing all or most of Revelation was primarily relevant to the time in which it was written).

This is not a highly technical work which makes it useful for lay adult education efforts. Brueggemann is not bashful when it comes to drawing contemporary parallels to the biblical text and a group using this book might take issue with his social justice positions. Where it is most useful is in identifying the many biblical texts that deal with the subject of money and possessions and providing helpful commentary and context for discussing these passages. If indeed this is used as a resource for the study of and use of scripture in the church as is the intent of this series, it can be quite helpful in summarizing what we find in scripture, and proposing a basic rubric of biblical theology of money and possessions around his six theses.

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Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher via a pre-publication e-galley through Edelweiss. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.

 

Voices

Titian_-_Wisdom_-_WGA22907

Wisdom by Titian [Public Domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Voices.

So many voices.

All wanting my attention…

–the professional solicitor raising money for an entity I might have vaguely heard of.

–the advertiser suggesting their product can offer me security, contentment, sexual satisfaction, health.

–the pundit trying to gain more views and following by provocation, pulling on the strings of emotion so that I will keep clicking.

–the media personality trying to keep my attention by arousing my sense of outrage over everything from product defects to people who pose a threat.

–the politicians who play upon both my frustrations and aspirations to garner my vote, even though in the end, they may do little to address either, only deepening my disillusionment.

So many voices.

I wonder if they drown out the voice I most need to hear. This is a voice that doesn’t join the clamor nor tries to drown it out, but to capture the attention of those who realize that life isn’t found in the clamor. It is a voice that asks questions, probing us to explore the meaning of a life well-lived and what it means to live such a life in our broadband, two hundred channel, smartphone media world. It’s a voice that bids me to a life beyond being safe, prosperous, or hip; to ask the questions of what it means to seek not only our own flourishing but those of the neighbor, whether the one on my street, or the one with whom I share my planet’s food, water, and atmosphere. It’s a voice bidding me to a life of goodness, truth, and beauty, to work with skill and excellence and yet modesty, realizing it’s all but a small part of a larger plan. It’s the voice that pierces that clamor to help me understand the time in which I live.

I call it the voice of wisdom.

Where can we go to find wisdom in the midst of the clamor? I wonder if this is actually the wrong question. I wonder if perhaps the prior question is do I hunger and thirst for something more than the clamoring voices are offering? Do I value wisdom more than a flush bank account and all the baubles of affluence by which we are lured? Do I tremble when I realize the capacity I have for both great good and great folly, and that somehow I am accountable, whether to God, myself, or simply the rest of humanity, what the writer of Proverbs might have called, “the fear of the Lord?”

Alan Jacobs has written recently of the demise of the Christian intellectual, the long history of whom stretches from Augustine and Aquinas to C.S. Lewis and Reinhold Niebuhr. Now I will be the first to admit that not all intellectuals are wise, as I warned my son in his youth that you can be very smart and not very wise. But I wonder in the distraction of the clamor if we have lost sight of the value of the wise voices who may help us interpret the times and how we might live well in them. I equally wonder if such voices have retreated from the public square because they have been shouted down as anachronisms from a benighted past.

Perhaps the beginning is to listen for the voices of wisdom among us…

–it could be an elder in a senior facility, who has seen a good deal of life, and while failing of body retains the wisdom of years.

–perhaps it is found in the lives of those who have suffered, who know the loss of what others count precious, and the qualities of character and the intangibles of goodness that remain.

–there are the religious teachers among us–not the big flashy media personalities–but those who combine prayer and reflection on sacred scripture with caring for people in all the exigencies of life.

–and there are the voices inscribed, whether the writers of sacred scripture, or those who have thought deeply on the human condition.

Proverbs 8:1-3 speaks of “Lady Wisdom” in these words:

Does not wisdom call?
    Does not understanding raise her voice?
On the heights beside the way,
    at the crossroads she takes her stand;
beside the gates in front of the town,
    at the entrance of the portals she cries aloud (ESV)

The matter is not the lack of wisdom for Lady Wisdom may be found wherever we look. The question is will we hear her voice in the clamor of so many.

Voices.

[Acknowledgement: my thanks for the inspiration for this post go to Pastor Rich and a conversation with a real life Sophia.]

Growing Up in Working Class Youngstown — Midway Memories

DiRussos

Father and son at DiRusso’s

The 170th Canfield Fair starts next Wednesday. And hearing of this brings back memories that stretch from childhood until the early years of our son’s marriage. I wonder if it is like this for you:

  • Going to the fair as a child and seeing all the lights at night, particularly from the top of the ferris wheel and experiencing a whole new sense of wonder.
  • Seeing real live farm animals, smelling them, and realizing they don’t have the same sense of privacy we do when they pee and poop!
  • Having my first footlong hotdog, having never heard of such a think but thinking, “what a wonderful idea.”
  • Going to the fair with a girl and trying (and not usually succeeding) to win her a prize in the games of skill. Eye-hand coordination was never my strong suit.
  • Strolling the midway with a girl, sharing a cup of fair fries drizzled with vinegar.
  • Working one year in college at an old-time evangelist’s booth showing the curious these glass boxes designed to foster the fear of hell so they would turn to Jesus. I still like encouraging people to “turn to Jesus”, but decided this was not the way I wanted to go about it.
  • Going to some of the grandstand shows. I remember seeing the Beach Boys one year, Kenny Loggins another, and countless tractor pulls. Can we say “deaf”.
  • Then there were all those vendors under the grandstand. We would get a can of carpet cleaner from one of them that really worked!
  • For many years, we used the fair for an annual reunion with college friends. We started when our kids were in strollers and this went until our kids were getting married.
  • We always had to stop at DiRusso’s for an Italian Sausage sandwich. And once my son’s stomach could handle it, he joined the fun.
  • For a period of time, we could buy the kids a ride wristband and turn ’em loose for a few hours so that we could look at some of the exhibits like the art show and various 4-H exhibits that they would consider b-o-r-i-n-g.
  • Speaking of the art exhibit, the fair was responsible for my wife showing one of her paintings in public for the first timed, at the urging of our artist friend.
  • We grew up in the city but it was amazing to watch young boys and girls ride horses and put them through their paces competing for various ribbons. Then we’d walk through the barns and see them caring for these animals, sometimes sleeping in an adjacent stall or a trailer and being impressed with how responsible they were.
  • I think I always loved the nights the most, with all the lights of rides and stands. There seemed to be a haze over the midway–a combination of all the things being fried and the humidity of a late summer night.

The Fair was always the last fling of summer for us. School didn’t start until after Labor Day back then. Even as adults, the Fair marked the end of the easier pace of summer as our kids started back to school, and everyone got back from vacation at work. I think for all of us around Youngstown, it was, and still is for those who live there, the last big celebration of summer.