Month: December 2005

The Nation reviews two books urging us to drop out of the rat race, or at least work a heckuva lot less.

The British sociologist P.D. Anthony wrote an interesting book called The Ideology of Work, which attempted to trace the shift in attitudes from seeing work as irksome and burdensome to seeing it as the locus of personal worth and fulfillment.

In the Lutheran tradition work is seen as one of the spheres where we live out our calling, which is to love God and serve our neighbor. Since our worth is established by God’s grace, we don’t need to find our identity in our work, but we can and should serve our neighbors dilligently through it. But paid work doesn’t have any preeminent importance in this respect; we serve our neighbors in our roles as parents, citizens, members of a community, etc. And there’s no reason that paid work should trump these other obligations. That would seem to argue for maintaining a sensible balance, rather than letting work consume our lives.

Interesting article about Mar Thoma Church, an India-based Christian denomination with roots in the Syrian Orthodox Church that is seeing some growth in the Philadelphia area. “Mar Thoma” means “St. Thomas” in Malayalam, a language spoken in Southwest India, referring to the traditional belief that Thomas the Apostle carried the Gospel to India. The church is described as combining “a Protestant reform emphasis in terms of its attention to preaching and the Bible” and “rituals [that] are Eastern in tradition.” (See here for more history.)

The Evangelical Outpost hosts a symposium on torture featuring Richard John Neuhaus and Albert Mohler. They are mostly responding to Charles Krauthammer’s piece “The Truth about Torture.”

WASHINGTON – In Congress, where numbers are everything, the math on the Patriot Act suddenly seems to be moving in favor of Sen. Russell Feingold.

He was a minority of one four years ago, when the Wisconsin Democrat cast the lone Senate vote against the USA Patriot Act in the traumatic weeks after the Sept. 11 attacks. The law, he said then, gave government too much power to investigate its citizens. Ninety-nine senators disagreed.

Now add more than two dozen senators to Feingold’s side, including the leaders of his party and some of the chamber’s most conservative Republicans, and the balance of power shifts.

The new Senate arithmetic that emerged this week is enough to place the renewal of major portions of the law in doubt. It was enough to inspire Senate Republican leaders to consider a backup plan in case Feingold’s filibuster threat succeeded. Enough to prompt President Bush to dispatch Attorney General Alberto Gonzales to Capitol Hill twice in two days to lobby on the accord’s behalf.

[…]

Feingold finds himself with some unlikely allies, including the Christian Defense Coalition. Notably, the National Rifle Association has not endorsed the Patriot Act renewal that was personally negotiated by Vice President Dick Cheney. The NRA’s non-position allows its Senate supporters to oppose renewing the law in its entirety.

“Folks, when we’re dealing with civil liberties, you don’t compromise them,” said Sen. Larry Craig, R-Idaho, an NRA board member.

The breadth of support gives Feingold, a possible presidential candidate, new reason to keep an eye on still other numbers: polls for the 2008 presidential election.

“It’s just very gratifying,” Feingold said, grinning during an interview this week in his office.

“We’ve stood the test of time. Our concerns were legitimate.”

Read more here. (link via Conservative Green)

(Warning: Skip this if you are allergic to excessively geeky posts.)

Last night I watched Star Wars: Episode III for the second time and have been trying to figure out whether there is a coherent philosophy that underlies the entire saga. On the one hand, Palpatine seduces Anakin partly by convincing him that the Jedi have a narrow, dogmatic perspective and that he needs to embrace “a larger view of the Force.” This is reinforced later during the battle between Anakin and Obi-Wan when Anakin replies to Obi-Wan’s accusation that he’s embraced evil that “From my point of view, the Jedi are evil.” So, is the Dark Side a kind of Nietzschean perspectivism?

Well, this is complicated by the fact that earlier Anakin tells Obi-Wan (echoing President Bush?) that “If you’re not with me, you’re my enemy,” to which Obi-Wan replies “Only a Sith thinks in absolutes.” Now it looks like the Jedi are the relativists!

Furthermore, the Jedi prophecy that Obi-Wan thinks Anakin is supposed to fulfill is that he is the “Chosen One” who will “bring balance to the Force.” But what does that mean? On its face it would seem to imply that the Good and Dark sides of the Force exist in a kind of tension, and balance would entail bringing them into some sort of yin-yang harmony. But Obi-Wan seems to take the propehcy to mean that Anakin will destroy the Sith, and that bringing balance to the Force simply means the triumph of the Jedi.

But we, the viewers, know that it’s not Anakin, but his son Luke, who ultimately brings balance to the Force. And, I would suggest, what this looks like is not simply the triumph of the Jedi philosophy, but a modification of it in a way that neutralizes the power of the Dark Side.

Consider the scene in Episode III where Anakin has a counseling session with Yoda about his disturbing visions of Padmé’s death. He tells Yoda that he is fearful that someone close to him is going to die (his marriage to Padmé is still a secret at this point). Yoda’s response is the rather bloodless one that he simply must give up his attachment to other people so it won’t affect him if they die, plus some rather platitudinous business about not mourning because when people die they are “transformed into the Force.” Anakin, rather understandably, finds this unacceptable, which opens him to Palpatine’s offer to teach him the dark arts that can ensure his wife’s immortality.

Now, we might think we’re supposed to see Yoda as a font of wisdom and therefore his advice to Anakin should be taken at face value as the right answer. But my take is that Yoda is actually wrong and this defect in the Jedi philosophy helps drive Anakin into the arms of the Dark Side.

We “later” see Yoda give the same advice to Luke when he’s in training on Dagobah and is having disturbing visions of what is about to happen to his friends in Cloud City. Yoda tells him that he has to put those thoughts away and complete his training. But Luke’s attachment to his friends is so strong that he leaves in an (apparently futile) attempt to save them. The implication is that Luke’s attachment to particular people prevents him from realizing his potential as a Jedi.

The same Jedi philosophy is at work when both Yoda and Obi-Wan try to dissuade Luke from attempting to save his father. Luke wants to bring Anakin back because he’s his father, whereas Yoda and Obi-Wan urge him to put aside any such personal feelings in service to the greater good.

We get a hint that Luke is right and Yoda and Obi-Wan wrong when later on the Death Star the Emperor taunts him about both his belief that he can rescue his father and his faith in his friends and comrades. After all, this is very similar to Yoda’s advice about giving up attachments to particular people. But, of course, Luke turns out to be right, both about his father and his friends (It’s telling, I think, that Luke echoes Padmé’s final words: “There is still good in him [Vader].”).

So, I suggest that Luke brings “balance” to the Force by (re?)incorporating a love for and attachment to particular people into the Jedi ethos. The exclusion of particularistic love from the Jedi order is what helped drive Anakin to the Dark Side in the first place, where it was twisted and ultimately nearly destroyed. After seeing the prequels we get a sense of how unlike the older generation of Jedi’s Luke is. They existed seperate from the people at large as a priestly class, whereas Luke is firmly rooted in family and friends (as we see him returning to their embrace in the final scenes of Jedi.). Balance, contra Yoda and Obi-Wan, didn’t mean the decisive triumph of the Jedi outlook, but a tempering of it with a more humanisitic impulse. Luke offers both a critique and a revivification of the Jedi tradition.

This Michael Kinsely article is well worth a read – he takes on the proverbial “ticking timebomb” argument for allowing torture under some circumstances, especially as propounded by Charles Krauthammer.

Meanwhile, Jim Henley points out that the logic used to justify torture and the logic used to justify the war in Iraq are curiously similar. And Matthew Yglesias says that, pass what laws you will, you still need people in power who are committed to refraining from torture; otherwise, they’ll find ways to circumvent the rules.

The American Conservative has a write-up by Bill Kauffman on the Second Vermont Republic – a secessionist movement aimed at getting Vermont out of the U.S.A., which I’ve mentioned before (The first Vermont Republic existed from 1777 to 1791 according to the SVR’s website.).

Kauffman describes the ideological orientation of the group:

Although SVR members range from hippie greens to gun owners—and among the virtues of Vermont is that the twain do sometimes meet—[founder Thomas] Naylor describes his group’s ideological coloration as “leftish libertarian with an anarchist streak.”

The SVR lauds the principles and practices of direct democracy, local control of education and health care, small-scale farming, neighborhood enterprise, and the devolution of political power. The movement is anti-globalist and sees beauty in the small. It detests Wal-Mart, the Interstate Highway System, and a foreign policy that is “immoral, illegal, and unconstitutional.” It draws inspiration from, among others, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, who in bidding farewell to his neighbors in Cavendish, Vermont, where he had lived in exile for 17 years, praised “the sensible and sure process of grassroots democracy, in which the local population solves most of its problems on its own, not waiting for the decisions of higher authorities.”

Naylor likes to say that Wal-Mart, which is “too big, too powerful, too intrusive, too mean-spirited, too materialistic, too dehumanizing, too undemocratic, too environmentally insensitive, and too unresponsive to the social, cultural, and economic needs of individual citizens and small communities,” is the American metaphor in these post-republic days. Perhaps it is. So why not a new metaphor, suggests Naylor: that of Vermont, which is “smaller, more rural, more democratic, less violent, less commercial, more egalitarian, and more independent” than its sister states?

Green – You believe that small economic units
should control the goods, and that the
government should be permissive of
“victimless crimes,” respectful of
civil liberties and very strict towards big
business. You also believe in either a
socialist tax structure or more power to local
communities. You think that environmental
policies should be written into law. Your
historical role model is Ralph Nader.

Which political sterotype are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

(quiz via Brandon)

In an essay called “Hearts Set to Obey” published in the journal Dialog (Spring, 2004 issue – not online I’m afraid), Gilbert Meilaender argues for a less “dialectical” version of Lutheranism that has room for growth in holiness in the Christian life. He contrasts this with a type of Lutheran theology that tends to separate theology from ethics by conceiving grace solely as pardon (i.e. forgiveness of sins), without making room for grace as power (i.e. the empowerment for real growth in righteousness).

Meilaender worries that in some Lutheran quarters the dialectic of Law and Gospel (the Law accuses, then the Gospel offers pardon; repeat as necessary) has been elevated into a principle that structures all of Christian theology, squeezing out the life of discipleship. But any theology that does this, he thinks, is seriously deficient as a Christian theology, because it can’t account for an important aspect of the Christian life. “We need a theology that does not invite us to act as if the incarnation, cross, and empty tomb have done nothing new and transforming in human history.”

Recall, now, where the Lutheran Confessional writings–and Lutheranism–may leave us: with two contrasting depictions of the way grace works in our lives to make us righteous before God. According to one formulation, God’s grace is a power working within us, bringing us ever more fully into that holiness of life without which no one will see the Lord. This holiness is not a condition for communion with God; rather, it is simply a description of what we must become before we can really want to be in God’s presence. According to the second formulation, grace is not power but pardon. It is the word of forgiveness and acceptance to which we must return in faith again and again.

Meilaender suggests that a solution is to see power and pardon as two aspects of or angles “from which to describe the one work of God in Christ, reconciling the world to himself”:

These are different ways of describing how God’s Spirit draws our lives into the story of Jesus. The language of pardon addresses a truth of our experience–the continuing lure of sin. The language of power articulates the truth of reality–that God is at work, fulfilling his promise to turn sinners into saints.

Which word is appropriate will depend on our situation. At times we need to hear the assurance of forgiveness, and at others the word of empowerment that comes from the fact that we have been freed from bondage to sin. Though the outcome is certain, we still have to tread the path. Meilaender quotes Luther’s metaphor of the sick man who, while promised a cure and certain recovery, still obeys the doctor’s orders “so that he may in no way hinder the promised return to health or incrase his sickness until the doctor can fulfill his promise to him.” In this perspective the imputation of righteousness is seen as God’s promise that we will be made righteous, substantially and not just forensically.

This view allows for a more positive role for the moral law and the example of Jesus in giving content to the Christian life (which seems to comport better with much of the language of the New Testament as well as the common experience of many Christians). I for one have always been somewhat puzzled by the Lutheran dialectic, and Meilaender’s view makes more intuitive sense to me. This could be in part because Meilaender has been significantly influenced by C.S. Lewis (see, e.g. his book A Taste for the Other), and I more or less cut my theological teeth (to the extent they’ve been cut!) by reading Lewis (and I have been accused of being a crypto-Anglican!). As an example of this, Meilaender’s statement that we need to be transformed into the kind of people who will want to be in God’s presence echoes Lewis’s book The Great Divorce, as well as some of the reasoning that led Lewis to embrace the idea of purgatory.

Stephen H. Webb, author of some excellent books on Christianity, food, and animals, reviews a book advocating a kosher diet(!) for Christians. Webb deems the author, Hope Egan, a “neo-Ebionite.” Egan argues, rather strangely, that the dietary laws from Leviticus are still in force for Christians, apparently, at least in part, because they represent the divinely-sanctioned road to health.

Like Webb, I am, at best, a demi-vegetarian. In the nearly two years since I’ve gone veggie I’ve probably eaten meat fewer than a dozen times, so I’m obviously not super-strict about it (most recently I fell off the wagon at Thanksgiving dinner, enjoying some delicious smoked turkey!). And I eat fish regularly.

So, I think Webb gets it right at the end of his review:

Some theologians (disclaimer: I am one of them) argue that the kosher laws have more theological than medical significance. Sacrificial regulations mediate the original vegetarianism of the Garden of Eden and the Prophets’ anticipation of the peaceable kingdom. In this perspective, some form of vegetarianism is a diet of hope and a witness to God’s plan for the world. But Egan believes we should refrain from eating pork and shellfish simply because that is God’s design for healthy living. This was disappointing news for me, because I reward my (usual) abstention from meat with many opportunities to eat plenty of tasty shrimp, on the grounds that they feel no pain. According to Egan’s interpretation of Leviticus, however, shrimp are scavengers and thus dangerous carriers of disease.

What’s a conscientious Christian eater to do: embrace the Torah, eat meat as an expression of humankind’s dominion over nature, or give up meat as a protest against factory farming? Egan thinks we will eat hamburgers in heaven derived from humanely raised, organically fed, and biblically slaughtered cows. I doubt that, but I also admit that if the Bible favors a vegetarian diet, it does so in a subtle and modest way. The question of a Christian diet cannot be resolved by appealing to the Torah, our right to use animals, or their rights to be protected from us. We have to begin with Christ, and wherever we end, we need to be subtle and modest about our dietary claims.