New Year's Eve is almost upon us.
It's 2009! An opportunity for new resolutions, a chance to start over, an occasion to set our sights on the future. Right?
Bullshit.
As it currently exists, New Year's Eve is a commercialized, pagan spectacle that affords a rationalization for indulging in base passions like drunkenness and self-indulgent partying. Watch "Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year" (or whatever it's called) and tell me if it is anything more than an expensive, glamorized frat party in Times Square.
Do I sound judgmental? I'm not intending to be.
In fact, I'm trying to interpret this merry-making in some kind of redemptive way. There is obviously some deep need in the human psyche that people are trying to fill with all of this hedonism that exists, not just on New Years' Eve, but all the time in our culture. Are people merely trying to escape the harsh reality of life? Or are they seeking some legitimate pleasure, only through the wrong means?
Once again, I turn to my master C. S. Lewis, and I find this in his "golden sermon," The Weight of Glory:
Nature is mortal; we shall outlive her...We are summoned to pass in through Nature, beyond her, into that splendour which she fitfully reflects. And in there, beyond Nature, we shall eat of the tree of life. At present, if we are reborn in Christ, the spirit in us lives directly on God; but the mind and, still more, the body receives the life from Him at a thousand removes. The faint, far-off results of those energies which God's creative rapture implanted in matter when He made the worlds are now what we call "physical pleasures;" and even thus filtered, they are too much for our present management. What would it be to taste at the fountainhead that stream of which even these lower reaches prove so intoxicating? Yet that, I believe, is what lies before us. The whole man is to drink joy from the fountain of joy. As St. Augustine said, the rapture of the saved soul will "flow over" into the glorified body.
If Lewis is right, and I believe he is, then every physical pleasure in which we now indulge ourselves, even the basest of them, is in some sense a shadow of what we are to experience in Heaven. The medieval saints were wrong in supposing that Heaven is nothing more than a "beatific vision": a detatched, objective gaze at God's essence for all eternity. For Lewis tells us that in Heaven, we will consume God, and be consumed by Him (though without losing our own identities), in the same way (though a million times greater) that people consume and are consumed by the hedonistic pleasures of this life. The merriment of alcohol, the physical joy of dancing and singing, the passionate glory of the sexual act...all of these, in some odd way, point beyond themselves when they are understood and enjoyed correctly. They are hints of a rapturous ecstasy that, God willing, we will one day experience for all eternity.
Our culture sends way too many messages of the pleasures of alcohol, partying, and sex. When people get "taken in" by those messages and indulge those pleasures, we often accuse them of having desires that are too strong. But we are wrong. Their desires are not too strong...they are too weak. They are desiring the shadows, the idols, rather than the Reality...much like a child who would rather remain playing in his sandbox than enjoy a vacation at the beach.
If "Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year" (or whatever it's called) is merely a shadow of the joy and ecstasy that Heaven affords, then I hope and pray that I will live life knowing that even "our present sufferings are not worth comparing to the glory that will be revealed to us" (Romans 8:18).
May we all "imbibe God" through Word, Sacrament, and Obedience in this life, knowing that He is the Consuming Fire who will intoxicate us for all eternity.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Purpose-Driven Idiots
Because of the flood of annual responsibilities that beset me this December, I haven't been keeping up with the national news as I should. After all, Christmas is the season of "Joy to the World"... Why should I watch the news and become even more depressed than King Herod upon the arrival of the Wise Men?
Anyway, this morning my dad informed me about the latest of several controversies that have surrounded Barack Obama before he has even taken the Oath of Office: Is it his selection of another "moderate" for a cabinet position? Is it his relationship with the corrupt governor and political machine in Chicago? No, nothing so mundane...
Apparently Obama has committed the unpardonable sin by requesting an invocation from Pastor Rick Warren on inauguration day. Gays and lesbians are offended that someone committed to a biblical view of marriage, and who supported the controversial California Proposition 8 restricting legal marriage to heterosexuals only, would be invited to Obama's inauguration...especially when Obama "promised them so much." Some evangelical conservatives are upset that Warren is even associated with Obama. I think all these people need to chill out and listen to a good story:
During my sophomore year in college, my grandfather passed away right before finals. It was a traumatic moment in my life. After I found out, I told a couple of the guys in my dorm. One was a friend who happened to be Jewish. Later that evening, he came to my dorm room, expressed his genuine sympathy, and offered to pray with me.
Now get this: As a Jew, he rejects my fundamental belief that Jesus Christ really was the Son of God and the Savior of all humanity. But I was not about to indulge in self-righteousness or narcissism by pushing aside his prayer. He was a friend. He genuinely cared. And like any person of goodwill, he felt compelled to reach out to me. I don't need to agree with his theology, or anything else for that matter, to appreciate the genuine intent of his heart.
Fast-forward to today: I like Barack Obama immensely for his optimism, I think he is a good husband and father, and I am impressed with his ability to reach out to former rivals like Hillary and McCain for the sake of the country. But I disagree with him on many issues, and I fear that his economic plans will do more long-term harm than good. I think especially that his position on abortion is atrocious. In spite of this, I wish him goodwill and intend on praying for him daily. To those "conservatives" who decry Rick Warren for his association with Obama, I say this: Even if you regard Obama as your enemy, you are under orders from Jesus Christ Himself to pray for him.
As for the gay and lesbian community: We are a nation at war in the Middle East, and the financial situation in this country is worsening. Very few Americans can comprehend the weight that will fall on Obama's shoulders in one short month. The fact that gays and lesbians are complaining about such a petty issue (Rick Warren doing the invocation) at this time shows that they are not motivated by goodwill, but by their own anger and intolerance for anyone who would dare to disagree with them. That makes them just as bad as some of the "evangelicals" that they decry.
Anyway, this morning my dad informed me about the latest of several controversies that have surrounded Barack Obama before he has even taken the Oath of Office: Is it his selection of another "moderate" for a cabinet position? Is it his relationship with the corrupt governor and political machine in Chicago? No, nothing so mundane...
Apparently Obama has committed the unpardonable sin by requesting an invocation from Pastor Rick Warren on inauguration day. Gays and lesbians are offended that someone committed to a biblical view of marriage, and who supported the controversial California Proposition 8 restricting legal marriage to heterosexuals only, would be invited to Obama's inauguration...especially when Obama "promised them so much." Some evangelical conservatives are upset that Warren is even associated with Obama. I think all these people need to chill out and listen to a good story:
During my sophomore year in college, my grandfather passed away right before finals. It was a traumatic moment in my life. After I found out, I told a couple of the guys in my dorm. One was a friend who happened to be Jewish. Later that evening, he came to my dorm room, expressed his genuine sympathy, and offered to pray with me.
Now get this: As a Jew, he rejects my fundamental belief that Jesus Christ really was the Son of God and the Savior of all humanity. But I was not about to indulge in self-righteousness or narcissism by pushing aside his prayer. He was a friend. He genuinely cared. And like any person of goodwill, he felt compelled to reach out to me. I don't need to agree with his theology, or anything else for that matter, to appreciate the genuine intent of his heart.
Fast-forward to today: I like Barack Obama immensely for his optimism, I think he is a good husband and father, and I am impressed with his ability to reach out to former rivals like Hillary and McCain for the sake of the country. But I disagree with him on many issues, and I fear that his economic plans will do more long-term harm than good. I think especially that his position on abortion is atrocious. In spite of this, I wish him goodwill and intend on praying for him daily. To those "conservatives" who decry Rick Warren for his association with Obama, I say this: Even if you regard Obama as your enemy, you are under orders from Jesus Christ Himself to pray for him.
As for the gay and lesbian community: We are a nation at war in the Middle East, and the financial situation in this country is worsening. Very few Americans can comprehend the weight that will fall on Obama's shoulders in one short month. The fact that gays and lesbians are complaining about such a petty issue (Rick Warren doing the invocation) at this time shows that they are not motivated by goodwill, but by their own anger and intolerance for anyone who would dare to disagree with them. That makes them just as bad as some of the "evangelicals" that they decry.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Hail Mary!
As Christmas approaches, I engage in my yearly tradition of meditating on the Nativity narratives found in the Gospels of Matthew and Luke. For me, the compelling figure of Mary always jumps out of the text.
I was raised a Roman Catholic, a Christian tradition that uplifts the role of Mary to the point of idolatry. Some faithful Catholics argue that Mary is the "co-redemptrix." Utilizing what they call the Eve-Mary parallel, they argue that Mary's role in redemption is just as definitive as Eve's role in damnation. They draw the conclusion that Jesus and Mary participate together in effecting our salvation, that without Mary's crucial yes to God's will, we would have no Jesus and therefore no hope of salvation. With the help of allegorical exegesis, they also argue that Mary is now crowned Queen of Heaven, that she is worshipped along with the Trinity, and that sincere devotion to her is required of any faithful Catholic.
In my move towards Protestantism I shunned much of this dogma, but as I mature in my faith, I have come to realize that Protestants have an equally flawed view of Mary. If Catholics make too much of her, Protestants make far too little of her. They often see her as nothing more than a "vessel" through whom God worked, and they fail to uplift her as one of the greatest models of faith to emanate from the pages of Scripture.
I recently read an article by Scot McKnight, religion prof at North Park University. He examines Mary's wonderful prophetic hymn "The Magnificat" in Luke 1:46-55, and he asks the question: What kind of a woman would speak the words of The Magnificat when Herod the Great was on the throne?
It's an interesting observation: What kind of a woman would say that God will cast down corrupt, demonic rulers from their thrones like King Herod, and exalt a lowly peasant woman like herself? When the Roman empire oppressed the poor anawim (the lost and forgotten common people) with high taxes and struck fear into their hearts through terror, Mary had the boldness to assert that these proud rulers will be scattered by the strength of the almighty. When rich, pagan Greeks took control of their land and squandered the food and other resources, Mary knows that God will send them away empty while giving good things to those who are hungry. And while she is nothing but a teenaged girl, she has the chutzpah to believe that "all generations" will call her blessed.
Certainly Mary was not perfect and sinless, as some Catholics assert. She herself needed a Savior (see Lk 1:47). But Mary was a woman who understood that to be a follower of the one true God is to envision a radically different world, where service and humility are the marks of greatness rather than power and domination. She understood that God's will is not just that we accept His grace in our hearts and then wait patiently for the "sweet by and by," but that our calling is to activity in the world on behalf of the poor, oppressed, and marginalized people like Mary herself.
Even when told that she would be the mother of the Messiah, Mary did not merely sit back and contemplate her own blessing, but she immediately went out to be a blessing to someone else: her relative Elizabeth who was also pregnant. She understood that her calling was to live a life of radical discipleship, regardless of the cost to herself.
And in an age when many church leaders think that we must sell out to the culture in order to be "cool" and "popular," Mary understood that to be associated with Jesus is to endure shame and suffering (see, for example, Matthew 13:53-58), and to accept them as a part of one's earthly discipleship. Indeed, what shame and suffering must she she have endured to stand beneath the cross, witnessing her battered Son draw His final breaths, not for His own sins, but for ours! Much more shame and suffering than most of us would be willing to endure!
If you look at the whole span of Jesus' life, you see Mary at the beginning and at the end, and in both places she is faithful, courageous, and humble. If God truly rewards faithfulness and exalts those of low degree (Lk 1:52), then certainly Mary is exalted in Heaven, and we should exalt her on earth...not as a Savior, but as a model of everything that we should be in following her Son, Jesus Christ.
I was raised a Roman Catholic, a Christian tradition that uplifts the role of Mary to the point of idolatry. Some faithful Catholics argue that Mary is the "co-redemptrix." Utilizing what they call the Eve-Mary parallel, they argue that Mary's role in redemption is just as definitive as Eve's role in damnation. They draw the conclusion that Jesus and Mary participate together in effecting our salvation, that without Mary's crucial yes to God's will, we would have no Jesus and therefore no hope of salvation. With the help of allegorical exegesis, they also argue that Mary is now crowned Queen of Heaven, that she is worshipped along with the Trinity, and that sincere devotion to her is required of any faithful Catholic.
In my move towards Protestantism I shunned much of this dogma, but as I mature in my faith, I have come to realize that Protestants have an equally flawed view of Mary. If Catholics make too much of her, Protestants make far too little of her. They often see her as nothing more than a "vessel" through whom God worked, and they fail to uplift her as one of the greatest models of faith to emanate from the pages of Scripture.
I recently read an article by Scot McKnight, religion prof at North Park University. He examines Mary's wonderful prophetic hymn "The Magnificat" in Luke 1:46-55, and he asks the question: What kind of a woman would speak the words of The Magnificat when Herod the Great was on the throne?
It's an interesting observation: What kind of a woman would say that God will cast down corrupt, demonic rulers from their thrones like King Herod, and exalt a lowly peasant woman like herself? When the Roman empire oppressed the poor anawim (the lost and forgotten common people) with high taxes and struck fear into their hearts through terror, Mary had the boldness to assert that these proud rulers will be scattered by the strength of the almighty. When rich, pagan Greeks took control of their land and squandered the food and other resources, Mary knows that God will send them away empty while giving good things to those who are hungry. And while she is nothing but a teenaged girl, she has the chutzpah to believe that "all generations" will call her blessed.
Certainly Mary was not perfect and sinless, as some Catholics assert. She herself needed a Savior (see Lk 1:47). But Mary was a woman who understood that to be a follower of the one true God is to envision a radically different world, where service and humility are the marks of greatness rather than power and domination. She understood that God's will is not just that we accept His grace in our hearts and then wait patiently for the "sweet by and by," but that our calling is to activity in the world on behalf of the poor, oppressed, and marginalized people like Mary herself.
Even when told that she would be the mother of the Messiah, Mary did not merely sit back and contemplate her own blessing, but she immediately went out to be a blessing to someone else: her relative Elizabeth who was also pregnant. She understood that her calling was to live a life of radical discipleship, regardless of the cost to herself.
And in an age when many church leaders think that we must sell out to the culture in order to be "cool" and "popular," Mary understood that to be associated with Jesus is to endure shame and suffering (see, for example, Matthew 13:53-58), and to accept them as a part of one's earthly discipleship. Indeed, what shame and suffering must she she have endured to stand beneath the cross, witnessing her battered Son draw His final breaths, not for His own sins, but for ours! Much more shame and suffering than most of us would be willing to endure!
If you look at the whole span of Jesus' life, you see Mary at the beginning and at the end, and in both places she is faithful, courageous, and humble. If God truly rewards faithfulness and exalts those of low degree (Lk 1:52), then certainly Mary is exalted in Heaven, and we should exalt her on earth...not as a Savior, but as a model of everything that we should be in following her Son, Jesus Christ.
Friday, December 12, 2008
One Symphonic Voice
So I'm sitting in my office this morning, and the sound of one of my favorite orchestral compositions is emanating from my speakers: Symphony No. 3 by Aaron Copland (arguably the greatest American composer). What makes this piece so compelling for me is that Copland took a very simple musical theme--introduced right at the beginning--and then he weaved that theme intricately through four movements of a diverse cacophony of sounds. The symphony takes you through every expression of human emotion, with the voice of every instrument in the orchestra carrying the lead at different parts. There are moments of irritating dissonance, rhythmic complexity, and triumphant tonality. Yet the discerning listener will not fail to perceive the one voice that speaks through all this diversity. And that--I would argue--is the beauty of the best classical music.
I see the same compelling artistry in that wonderful book we call The Bible. From Genesis to Revelation, there is one redemptive theme clearly intended by the Author...one Voice that speaks. But from its pages leap a rich diversity of narrative, poetry, wisdom teaching, ethics, and doctrinal statements. Its Hero is presented in four distinct portraits (movements?), each with its own particular nuances, but all of which focus on the Cross and Resurrection as the central theme of His life.
Swiss Theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar once wrote that Truth is symphonic. I'm not quite sure how to interpret that statement. I mean...I'm not a relativist. I don't believe that there are multiple ways to Heaven, and I think a huge part of our calling as ministers of the Gospel is to draw a sharp distinction between truth and error.
At the same time, I can't help but think that part of what has made the Bible such a compelling book is that it is shaped with all the complexity of a great symphony...its Author is more like a storyteller, artist, or musician than a philosopher or a dogmatist. Is it possible that, out of the diversity of voices currently present in the Church, God may just be able to craft a beautiful work of art? Is it possible that when we all focus on Jesus Christ and His Cross, which is the theme of Scripture, then we will play in harmony? That even the dissonance that sometimes exists within the Church may be a part of the Composer's greater plan?
May we all play our parts in the Symphony of Triumph, trusting in the Composer's wisdom to make His One Voice heard through us.
I see the same compelling artistry in that wonderful book we call The Bible. From Genesis to Revelation, there is one redemptive theme clearly intended by the Author...one Voice that speaks. But from its pages leap a rich diversity of narrative, poetry, wisdom teaching, ethics, and doctrinal statements. Its Hero is presented in four distinct portraits (movements?), each with its own particular nuances, but all of which focus on the Cross and Resurrection as the central theme of His life.
Swiss Theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar once wrote that Truth is symphonic. I'm not quite sure how to interpret that statement. I mean...I'm not a relativist. I don't believe that there are multiple ways to Heaven, and I think a huge part of our calling as ministers of the Gospel is to draw a sharp distinction between truth and error.
At the same time, I can't help but think that part of what has made the Bible such a compelling book is that it is shaped with all the complexity of a great symphony...its Author is more like a storyteller, artist, or musician than a philosopher or a dogmatist. Is it possible that, out of the diversity of voices currently present in the Church, God may just be able to craft a beautiful work of art? Is it possible that when we all focus on Jesus Christ and His Cross, which is the theme of Scripture, then we will play in harmony? That even the dissonance that sometimes exists within the Church may be a part of the Composer's greater plan?
May we all play our parts in the Symphony of Triumph, trusting in the Composer's wisdom to make His One Voice heard through us.
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