Update for January-February tour: Lessons in Evandalism

September 5th, 2008

It’s been very encouraging to see the US January-February tour fill up so quickly. Indeed there is already enough interest to start planning another tour, though I will wait until the next book is out before setting out again (April 2009 – If you have interest in me speaking on this book tour please email Alyson).

Anyway, I think ‘Lessons in Evandalism’ is pretty much sown up, but if you live near Grand Rapids I have a couple of free days (2nd – 4th February) as well as a day in New York (24th February). If you would like me to do a talk, facilitated discussion and/or workshop drop Alyson a line ASAP.

The Fidelity of Betrayal: Eschatology as the ‘to come’ of what is already here

September 1st, 2008

Here is the second except from my most recent book The Fidelity of Betrayal. In this section I explore the Christian idea of eschatology. I am also in the process of finishing the last edits for The Orthodox Heretic and other Impossible Tales.

…This idea of a rupture in the text that hints at the elusive presence of a divine Word is connected to the idea of eschatology within Christianity. Eschatology is a theological term that is often used within Christianity to refer to events that are to come. Christianity is thus thought to have an eschatological dimension insomuch as it looks forward to a kingdom that is not yet here, a beautiful realm of love, forgiveness, and mercy that we yearn for, long for, pray for, and prepare for. Here the eschatological kingdom of God is located in the not-yet of the future. However, within the Bible we find a much more radical view of the eschatological kingdom, not as the absence of something that is to come, but rather as the absence of a kingdom that is already here. Indeed, this distinction is one of the prime differences between the message of John the Baptist and the message of Jesus. While John the Baptist preached that the kingdom was coming, Jesus preached that this kingdom was already among us. However, in saying this he did not overturn the message of John the Baptist but rather deepened it, for Jesus spoke of a kingdom that was here and yet as simultaneously being something that was looked to as still to come.

Following the image of the kingdom that was spoken of by Jesus, we encounter the idea that while it is still thought of as “to come” this does not mean that it will one day arrive at the end of a certain period of time, but rather that the kingdom is “to come,” i.e., the kingdom is already among us but in a manner that implies it is absent. Here the opening created by the eschatological kingdom of God is not an opening into the future but rather an opening into the present that acts much like the portable holes we see in cartoons that can be placed onto any solid surface, thus creating a gap. This view of the kingdom is something that we also find confirmed in the writings of Paul, such as when he speaks of the kingdom as both the now and the not-yet.

Is this initially bizarre logic not what we also find being played out when we contemplate the presence of those whom we love? Is it not a great romantic truth that the presence of our beloved is always of a spectral kind? To truly know and love someone involves acknowledging that person’s inscrutable eschatological depths, understanding that the presence of the one before us is always manifested as a type of absence, as an opening. For each person is a universe for us to explore. In this way it is wrong to imagine that we long for someone we love to enter into our world, to come. Rather, when the one we love arrives in our world we encounter that person as precisely the one who is “to come.”

This is why our desire for those we love is born in our encounter with them rather than satisfied there. We cannot desire the one whom we do not know, for the simple reason that we do not know that person. We can only desire the one who is before us, the one who remains mysterious in his or her presence. The other is both the origin and the unreachable destination of our desire, for there is always something Other about the other, something “to come” amidst the presence of those we love. In the eyes of the beloved a universe opens up and envelops us.

We find an interesting example of this structure in the long-running science fiction series Doctor Who. The Time Lord’s Tardis (the vehicle he uses in order to travel through time and space) is radically smaller on the outside than it is on the inside. Indeed, while the exterior dimensions of the vehicle are the same as a mere telephone box, the interior is composed of a vast and seemingly unlimited expanse. In the same way, the small physical frame of our beloved belies the fact that it houses an interior world of seemingly unlimited proportions…

These… descriptions are fundamentally seen at work in the biblical description of the Incarnation, where Jesus is described as the site in which God, as the Wholly Other, is no longer located “out there” but rather is inscribed in human flesh…

In Christ, the absolute Other of God is said to enter into the mundane world and set up a home among us. Here God is neither reduced to the world of objects nor remains in some space utterly beyond the world, but rather ruptures the present with the future, fractures the finite with the infinite, and tears through the temporal with the eternal, inhabiting the now in the guise of the not-yet. Here God’s Otherness is no longer located in some eschatological realm beyond the present order of the world but rather in an eschatological realm that infuses the present world, rupturing it and placing it into question. Here the razor-sharp cut of God’s kingdom does not presuppose a hairline gap between the present world and the world to come, but rather is that which slices through the present world with the world to come, inhabiting our world with a divine realm that is not reducible to our time and space.

Minnekon

August 21st, 2008

I am just back from a wonderful week in Minneapolis so sorry for the lack of posts. Have been working on some interesting ideas so will get posting again soon… though have to get Greenbelt over first (a highlight of my year). Here is what I am involved in for GB in case you can join me,

Friday 7:30pm - What Kind of Church is Emerging (a panel exploring the current state of Emerging Church)

Friday 9.30pm - Lessons in Evandalism (Ikon workshop)

Saturday 1.15pm - Ikon: Inquisition (Q&A with others from Ikon)

Saturday 4:00pm - Possibility of the impossible (a discussion on the instillation/gathering set up and run by the guys from ‘The Garden’, a group who are doing very exciting and innovative work)

Saturday 9.30pm - For the Bible tells me so (a panel discussion on inclusion and exclusion in the Bible)

Monday 12.30pm - Changing something so that everything remains the same (a talk exploring how faith collectives can instigate real change rather than merely rearranging chairs on the Titanic)

Monday 5.00pm - Beyond the Spectacular: exploring the miracle of Christianity (a talk attempting to unearth what the word ‘miracle’ really refers to in Christianity. Here I hope to expose the problem with the signs and wonders phenomenon)

On a different note. If you would like to find out about the conference that we just ran in Minneapolis check out Adam Moore’s reflections here

Below are a few photos,

Minnkon2Minnekon1Minnekon3

The conference involved a mix of talks, facilitated discussions and workshops culminating in the creation and execution of a service (called ‘away’). The great thing about this approach is that, unlike merely giving a talk that people forget in a few days, this multifaceted approach can encourage long term change. The result is that people leave not just with head knowledge but equipped with a whole new range of skills that can help them either transform their current context or instigate a new one.

This is the second time that Ikon has run something like this and while it involves a lot of work the results are worth the effort. So we are keen to explore doing more of these type of events in 2009. If you are interested in booking us drop me an email here.

Ikon does Minneapolis

August 1st, 2008

Myself and three others from ikon (Jonny McEwen, Kelly Turtle and Sarah Williamson) are gearing up to go to Minneapolis in a couple of weeks. There we will be offering a rich mix of talks, facilitated discussions and workshops to those who are interested in pioneering creative, radical new faith collectives. This will be an intimate, focused conference dedicated to working at a serious level with those who wish to explore a post-secular theory and practice that has the potential to reconfigure the religious landscape and blur the lines between sacred/secular, religious/irreligious, church/world. For more details contact Chris Enstad.

Here are the details,

Cost is $100 and includes four meals and materials.

Send check plus name, address, phone and email to:
ikon event
6100 Normandale Road
Edina, MN 55436

Location:
Solomon’s Porch
100 W. 46th Street
Minneapolis, MN 55419

Sponsored by: Normandale Lutheran Church and Solomon’s Porch

The fidelity of Betrayal: Christianity was born to embody its death

August 1st, 2008

Over the next few weeks I am going to offer a series of short commentaries on parts of the new book. If you have a section you would like me to expand on let me know the page number etc. and I will try to include it. Anyway, to start I thought I would simply offer this quotation from chapter 1, a quotation which sets out the central thrust of the book,

“There are countless people who betray Christianity, individuals who turn their backs on its message because they no longer believe in it or because it asks too much of them. But there are a few who betray Christianity, not because they no longer believe in it, but because they believe in it so deeply, because they understand that unless the seed of our Christianity falls to the ground and dies it will remain a single seed, but if it is allowed to die it will produce many seeds…

The cost of Christianity, for so many, is thought to lie in the demand that we die to ourselves for the sake of our Christianity. The cross we are called to carry is thus one upon which we are to be put to death. But what if this cross we bear had another meaning? What if the cross that we are called to carry is not for us at all but rather, like the cross that Simon of Cyrene labored beneath, is really for another—a cross for us to crucify what we love? Is it possible that the cross we labor beneath must be used to crucify our Christianity? How many of us can truly understand this question? How many of us can really know what it is like to destroy what we love for the sake of what we love—to be the most faithful of betrayers? Yet perhaps it is precisely this that we are being called to: engaging in that most difficult task of putting our religion to death so that a religion without religion can spring forth”

Wanting to hear your (re)views

July 30th, 2008

If you have read How (Not) to Speak of God or The Fidelity of Betrayal and would like to share your thoughts (good, bad or ugly) please consider visiting Amazon and leaving a review,

How (Not) to speak of God
The Fidelity of Betrayal

Wall-e: The good news of forsaking heaven and embracing worldliness

July 25th, 2008

I went to see the film Wall-e a few nights ago and was interested in its visual exploration concerning the nature of human fulfilment. The story, as most of you know, begins from the premise that humans have left the Earth because it has become uninhabitable due to the pollution and refuse that has resulted from our insatiable desire to consume. Human have opted to temporarily live in a huge spaceship called “axiom” until the earth is habitable again. They originally intended to leave for only 5 years but, when the film begins, they are in their 700th year. Before leaving the Earth the humans left an army of robots charged with the task to clean the mess up however, over the years, all but one of these robots (the hero) have broken down.

The idea of humans leaving Earth and going to live in the heavens can be seen to mimic the notion of heaven that is found in the popular imagination. The spacecraft is represented as a place where all ones needs are met, a place where there is no pain or suffering or tension or conflict and no-one has a job to do (except the captain whose job is largely a symbolic one). In short it is a place of perpetual peace, harmony and relaxation. While we can presume that people still grow old and die the film does not show any old people (or, of course, death) – everyone appears to be around the same age (apart from some brief scenes of babies) and so we get the impression of a place of equilibrium, a place without old age or death. On the spacecraft people’s needs are instantly satisfied. Desires for particular foods and fashion etc. are all met in an instant and (in homage to Silent Running) it is always a perfect 72 degrees.

However, it turns out that this “heavenly” existence is actually a type of mundane, melancholic hell. No one walks anymore (they all use hovercrafts to move), everyone is overweight, and humanity is portrayed (via the photos of different captains) of slowing devolving into what one can only imagine to be a fatty, inactive blob. This dystopia is not however enforced on people (as in films like Equilibrium), it is what human beings have chosen, what they want, or at least what they think they want. They do not hate it any more than they love it, they have rather entered into a type of undead existence, not unlike a cryogenic state, in which they are not dead and yet not really alive.

Once the film has shown us how this first (“heavenly”) attempt at salvation and fulfilment has failed it charts humanities return to Earth and, more than this, of humanities return to the earth itself, to the ground, the soil. Here, as humans slowly turn from their reliance on technology and desire for instant gratification, they begin to experience joy and wonder again. This is symbolised in their desire to return to growing food rather than instantly getting it in the form of an artificially flavoured smoothy (as they did before).

This is not however a romantic scene in which the director paints the rural life as one of true peace and tranquility over and against the false peace and satisfaction of their heavenly existence. This is to miss the point – their heavenly existence did offer peace and tranquility in a direct, unmediated way (not some false version of these) and was, for this very reason, the true enemy of existence. Instead, by forsaking this direct (horrifying) engagement with peace and tranquility, and instead living up to the fact that life involves a host of tensions and difficulties to overcome, a more substantive life was rediscovered.

Here we see a glimpse of Nietzsche’s point that heaven (in the popular sense) would be a living death, a mummified existence. Whereas truly embracing the fluctuations, fragility and tensions of life, supremely difficult as this is, brings with it a true joy and exuberance.

Here, in a Derridian fashion, the obstacle is the very opening to that which it blocks. By returning to the very thing that they thought was the obstacle to their fulfilment they indirectly find fulfilment (a fulfilment without fulfilment, an impossible fulfilment). While their previous direct attempt to find fulfilment (to make it present in its fullness) led to nothing but a type of living death.

So what do we learn? Perhaps we are reminded of the old Christian insight that heaven is the impossible that we indirectly glimpse only when we renounce it and put ourselves to the task of utterly offering ourselves to the world. Of unreservedly embracing worldliness in Bonheoffer’s sense. In his Letters and Papers from Prison he writes,

“This is what I mean by worldliness - taking life in one’s stride, with all its duties and problems, its successes and failures, its experiences and helplessness. It is in such a life that we throw ourselves into the arms of God and participate in his sufferings in the world and watch with Christ in Gethsemane. That is faith, that is metonoia and that is what makes a man and a Christian”

November/December 08 Speaking tour

July 24th, 2008

My November/December speaking tour is almost set thanks to the hard work of Carol Showalter at Paraclete. This time I will not only be hopping round the US but will also get a chance to dip my toe into Canada. There is however one day in the tour that is still up for grabs. Sunday evening 7th December in Boston (the night before I return home). If you live in Boston and would be interested in me speaking please drop an email to Carol Showalter. Of course it is my last night so maybe we should just have a big party!

Lessons in Evandalism US tour: Advance notice

July 22nd, 2008

I am starting to plan a tour of the US that will take place in January/February 2009. The aim of the tour is two-fold. Firstly, I am keen to present some of my latest thinking in the form of sermons, seminars, workshops and facilitated discussions. This work will be expressed in two forthcoming books, but I am looking forward to giving people a chance to hear it, wrestle with it and challenge it before it comes out in print. Secondly the tour is designed to help raise some money for my ongoing work with ikon.

The tour will be starting at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, Michigan on the 27th January and will finish up in New York City on the 20th February.

If possible I am keen find a mix of universities, seminaries, churches and conferences to work with and can offer anything from a 5-minute children’s address to a week of in-depth seminars, workshops and facilitated discussions.

I will be sending official feelers around the blogosphere in the next few weeks but wanted to give advance notice of my plans for those who read my blog.

My plan is to find some speaking engagements close to Calvin College to start with and then slowly make my way towards New York City. So if you are interested in having me speak then please drop a line to Alyson McElroy.

So what exactly is it that you do?

July 16th, 2008

Here is the a rough copy of the presentation I offered at my book launch this evening. It is partly an apology for why I live the way that I do and partly a summery of what the book is about…

A question that I am often asked when sitting in coffee shops or out for an evening, indeed a question that even my family and close friends sometimes ask, comes down to this: “what exactly is it that you do?” Well I was thinking that tonight might be a good opportunity to answer that question once and for all. And the answer is, “I have no idea what ‘it’ is that I do.” In fact, more than this, I can tell you honestly that I have no idea how I have done it for so long or why on earth I continue to do it.

Now this answer might come across as a cryptic way of saying that I do nothing much at all, and it must be said that I am not the most industrious person on the face of the planet, but this answer is saying something more than that. Indeed if heard correctly it might actually help people to understand what ikon is all about and what this new book is exploring.

All too often we know exactly what it is that we do and we have a pretty good idea of what we would want to be doing, if we had the resources. But what if this knowledge is actually the very thing that is holding us back? What if the problem we face is not our inability to fulfil our dreams, to make our dreams become a reality but, more fundamentally, our inability to forge new dreams?

Our dreams always take place within a particular context, one that is for the most part transparent to us. And this context moulds those dreams. For instance, within our Western Capitalist system our dreams are often manifested as a desire for material wealth, romantic love and some work-free apolitical life by the beach. An example of this can be seen in the way that Western fairytales, as mythological expressions of our values, are often concerned with poor people becoming wealthy and powerful while in different cultures fairytales often revolve around the idea of a wealthy and powerful person renouncing their wealth in favour of simplicity and Enlightenment. These fairytales being simultaneously both a manifestation of our underling societal values and a powerful means of passing them on to a new generation.

Yet more problematically, our political dreams concerning what justice looks like and how to affirm human rights all to often simply accept the dominant political apparatus for creating and distributing wealth. With the result being that when we live these dreams out they turn out to be nothing but an exercise in rearranging chairs on the Titanic. Why? Because they fail to link the subjective injustice they want to address on the streets with the objective injustice of the current political structures that are simply taken for granted.

And so, in order to put ourselves in a position where we can dream new dreams. Putting ourselves in a place where we can imagine and instigate genuine emancipatory alternatives to the current theo-political system. We need to step out of that world.

This is not a step into something substantive that we can conceptualise in advance but rather is a step into what we do not know. All we do know is that the world where we currently reside is not the country where we wish to dwell. That there are alternative political landscapes, new theological possibilities and brighter, more life-affirming shores elsewhere. All we know is that if we are ever to discover these brighter shores we must take some provisions and leave this present shore behind us. We do not know where we will end up as there is no map for what does not yet exist, but we are nonetheless compelled to go.

The problem with this act is, of course, that we have no idea in advance whether what we discover will be more beautiful, liberating and authentic than what went before. If what we imagine into life becomes significant then it is history, not our peers, that judges whether those who made straight the paths for the new reality were saints or sinners.

The Fidelity of Betrayal attempts to show how this challenge to step into the unknown is central to the logic of Christianity. That Christianity, in its most radical expression, operates as a type of irreligious religion that cannot be captured in the development of a particular type of concrete religious community but rather is manifest as an eternal challenge to transform society in a way that brings healing and life to the excluded and marginalised.

This is not, I must confess, a traditional understanding of Christianity. My approach to the Christian faith is not concerned with certain doctrinal or creedal formulations and neither is it concerned with the concretely existing historical church. Rather I argue that the Christian is one who is ready to betray doctrines and creeds and who is willing to turn their back on the historical manifestation of Christianity, not in order to move beyond it, but rather so as to instigate a repetition of its radical a-historical kernel. Betraying it as an act of fidelity toward it.

My desire in this book then is not to valorise some particular point in the life of the historical church, even in its early form. It is not about returning to a certain period in its history. Rather it is about attempting to unearth again the emancipatory event that gave birth to the historical church, forging a new movement that will also fail but that will fail in a better way, in a way that addresses the exigencies of the brave new world that we inhabit today.

So what do I do? I do not know and perhaps I never will, but I am fortunate to be among people who are in a similar place to myself, people who do not know what they are doing, or what needs done, and yet are utterly committed to doing it. People who are ready to dream new dreams.