Theology, Atheism, and Privilege/Power

I've come to realize I'm just not that cool, nor is my theology that en vogue. 

I'm sitting here listening to Dave Matthews Band's new album, "Away From the World" and reading an interview with Dave about the album. To make a long story short, in one of Dave's answers he said, quite simply, "I do not believe in God." Dave's lyrics have a long history of interaction with the topics of the divine, religion, and Christianity in particular, but that isn't what struck me about this statement. It once again reminded me that I find this statement to be an inherently privileged statement.

Michel Foucault's postmodern philosophy, at the risk of oversimplification, revolves around the concept of "power" and how -- usually -- individuals utilize power. Of note, specifically for philosophy, was Foucault's assertion that even knowledge itself was shaped and formed by power. This is what I mean, first and foremost, when I use the term "privilege", that is, it comes from a privileged place of power which others do not necessarily possess.

There is a new, hip movement within Western cultures to embracing atheism. That is all good and well in and of itself, but I want to come back to it after my next observation. That is, there is a second, equally "hip" movement within Western Christianity to downplay, if not outright reject, the blessing of afterlife. I want to argue that this is, again, an inherently privileged position which is the product of power.

You see, it is easy as a Christian in the west to believe that there is no afterlife. God desires justice and we should strive for the same. After all, we live in relatively just societies which allow us to enjoy justice, yet with just enough injustice to have something to shake our fists at and fight against. We speak, with the best intentions, about "justice" and usually "social justice." Beyond that, we move into language like "Kingdom of God", to which we mean "social justice here, on earth." From there, we feel comfortable, in a modernist scientific age, suggesting "but really, afterlife? Come on. I don't really believe that." Or, maybe we do, but we certainly don't want to focus on it, for fear of seeming like one of those other Christians.

Why?

Because we don't need it.

I've said quite a few times that if Christianity is just about bringing justice here, then let's close the church doors, head home, and donate to our preferred political party (usually Democratic in these circles). Seriously, though, if there is no afterlife then our proclamations of a God who desires justice ring incredibly shallow. Whether we intend to or not, our proclamation really just says to those who are suffering injustice that we, privileged, western Christians are going to bring them justice (anyone else puking yet?). And well, in all honesty, if we don't get to them in time, that's just terribly tragic.

Yet, even that comes from a place of privilege and power. We can say it is tragic because, after all, we experience justice. We are not in a place where we can feel the full force of the fact that such a position just isn't good enough.

Not for the Christian gospel. Either we believe in a God who will establish justice and right the wrongs, freeing the oppressed, or we do not.

We don't need God to create just societies. We don't need God to tell us not to murder people. Even if we did, what good does this God do for us when injustice reigns?

Humanity is in desperate need of a God who can bring justice for the oppressed even when the best intentions of the Church and the World have both failed, and they have died without ever knowing peace and justice. Humanity needs a God who can give this to them on the other side of death, where our failures are no longer final.

What do we say for the fallen at Auschwitz? That we got 'em, eventually? That the bad guys lost the war, even if it was too late for you? Or do we, instead, say that there is a God who promises justice to them yet?

The Christian Gospel, without resurrection after death, is no good news at all, and the idea that we can just throw it all out is itself the position of those who are privileged enough to get along fine without God, where others are not so lucky.

America and Eucharist: Hands and Hearts, Treason and Communion

Lately I've noticed a lot of fervor over American patriotism among Evangelicals. Well, allow me to re-phrase. It isn't only lately, but that it has become more acute lately. Inevitably I always end up opening my mouth and, inevitably, it always ends up on some FB status in a comment where I cannot fully articulate my thoughts, so I thought it might be important to do here, for once.

This post takes for granted a certain Sacramental theology. That is, I believe something really happens in the Sacraments themselves, in the Liturgy. Even if you don't believe that, you should be able to follow the logic of the post, since Christianity believes these things happen, even if you disagree about the locus of their happening. That is, whether you believe that it is in the Eucharist and Baptism that we are united to Christ, all of Christianity believes that we are so united.

Liturgy as a Form of Knowing: Part 1 - Sensual Experience

I was watching a little video clip (it isn't really that little, it's an hour long) between Alister McGrath and Richard Dawkins where McGrath essentially attempts to argue that the Christian faith is "reasonable." I quit pretty early on, as I grow bored from what I perceive to be futile attempts to reconcile Christianity with an empiricist, rationalist version of Modern philosophy. That is, I do not believe that Christianity will ever be rational in terms of modernism. It will never be supportable by empirical evidence. It will never be "certain" in any meaningful sense of the term when playing by the rules of so-called "objectivity." One will always have to fall to the default position of having faith in the unprovable and unsupportable idea that God became human, died, and rose again from the dead after 3 days. It is simply indefensible, and there is no evidence we can submit which would somehow make it a reasonable or rational thing to believe.

However, I want to contend in this and the next post that concrete evidence is not the only form of evidence that humans function from. Instead, sensory evidence - that is, what we experience - is every bit as powerful (and valid) a form of knowledge. I will use love to make this point.

Evolution: Is Death the Consequence of Sin

Often times Romans 5 and Genesis 3 are cited as proof-texts which are supposed to show that death didn't exist before The Fall.

Here I offer some quick thoughts on interpreting Paul in Romans 5 which refutes this proof, locating Romans 5 more accurately within the wider Pauline theology, and specifically within the argument of Romans as a whole.

http://www.naznet.com/community/showthread.php/8506-Is-Death-the-Consequence-of-Sin?p=142707&viewfull=1#post142707

Others deal with Genesis 3. Enjoy!

Some Thoughts on Marriage and Sexuality

First of all, I want to give a big congratulations to my very dear friend, Corey Fuller, and his lovely wife, Lauren (whom I also consider a friend!) on their life
together, and their beautiful celebration of and commitment to that yesterday.

Oddly enough, I had a conversation with another good friend about marriage on the drive up to Rancho Cucamonga, and these conversations intersected as I thought about their marriage, other marriages, and the culture of marriage and sexuality in much of the Christian culture around which I grew up. However, to get there, I'm going to need to set the stage.... (just so everyone knows, I will not use gender neutral language throughout this post, because I am a male, and will speak as I identify, and as I have experienced these conversations).

Born Again and Exegetical Selectivity

I was sitting at Pizza Port, drinking a pint of Flying Dog Kujo, and a woman asked me about my tattoo on my left arm. I ended up entertaining a conversation I knew full-well that I shouldn't have entertained. The woman and her husband were good Evangelical Christians. Now, there's nothing wrong with evangelical Christians, nor with being such. However, I knew that eventually they'd ask questions about what I believe, and that never goes as well as some might imagine. 


So, eventually the conversation made its way around to what we all know it was leading to.... and she asked me "Are you born again?" However, this question came at an interesting point in the conversation, where her and her husband had attempted to use wedding ceremony practices to talk about the significance of communion, as a way of saying that it has no significance other than memorialist purposes. After all, it is by believing in Jesus that we're saved, so, am I born again?