Mexico Trip Day 1

Today, Amber and I, along with our friends Adam, Beth, and Kandice set foot in Mexico City for the first time. For the most part, everything went well and good, the exception being that Orbitz changed our tickets so that Amber and I ended up taking a flight to Mexico from Houston two hours later than the rest of the group. So, we sat around and ate airport food while our friends flew, and well, then they did the same thing while we flew. But if that is the worst thing that happens to us during the trip we ought to be pretty thankful!!

We are staying at a Quaker hostel that is quite interesting to say the least. The building used to be the home of a famous mural artist, and needless to say, it has seen its better days. But it is close to the city center and we are looking forward to all that we are going to see in the next couple days.

Tonight, we walked around a bit to get our bearings and just a couple blocks from our hostel there was a Christmas fair that was, no doubt, influenced by the many fair games that one can find at Six Flags or state fairs in America but with Mexican food instead of elephant ears and fried bananas instead of fried mozzarella sticks.

After walking, we made our way to a Mexican restaurant that we could trust called VIPS (right next to a KFC and Burger King!), which crazily enough is chain in Mexico that is owned by Walmart... yeah, not your typical authentic Mexican... but it WAS good!

Needless to say, we are all very tired and the majority of our group has deserted me and headed off to their rooms. Hopefully I will write more later on in the week!

Getting Old... Well At Least Feeling Old

So, on Monday my brother Brogan, Matt Baldauff, and I went downhill skiing in celebration of his birthday (his girlfriend Coty surprised him with a drive all the way out to Pittsburgh). Now don't get me wrong, I love downhill skiing. My family used to go to Michigan in the winter every year when we were kids and even went out to Utah on a couple occasions where my uncle lives. But this was the first time I had gone skiing for nearly two years, and well, graduate school is not conducive to staying in optimum physical shape. Not only that, the ski resort decided to leave their snow makers on the entire time we were there. After every run, my body was covered in a thin layer of ice. Fake snow is more wet (and often quickly turns into ice), and thus, is not the most enjoyable to ski through. So, needless to say, I STILL ache all over. My thighs hurt, my lower back hurts, my knees hurt from getting my legs turned in directions they weren't meant to be turned, the side of my right leg hurts where I skidded down the mountain a couple times, and lots of other things hurt... But it was still fun to be out there!

In fact, we've had quite the slew of visitors of late. Last weekend, my parents were here and we showed them the town and took them to Frank Lloyd Wright's most famous work, Fallingwater - a house he built for a wealthy Pittsurgh family right over a stream. We also went to the 17th St. Cafe on the Southside of Pittsburgh and all agreed that we ate the best meal we had had in years. Below are some pictures from that trip.

Then, this last weekend, my brother Bryce and his friend Diana came out to visit. We took them up to one of our favorite spots, Mount Washington, which offers the best view of the Pittsburgh skyline - one of the best in America. Take a look and see why we like it so much:

A Sigh of Relief

So today I turned in my papers as my last work for my first semester of grad school. Now its 'wait and see' to find out what kind of grades I will receive. Grad school has been a a great experience thus far. I much rather write papers than take tests, and getting back into the work of researching and articulating ideas has been a lot of fun. Not that I understand everything - far from it. Aristotle's Metaphysics has kicked my butt all semester long, but as a result, I've learned a TON regarding its influence on Christian theology (taking Aquinas this semester at the same time helped, no doubt) and even how we think today. Having to read Aristotle in Greek has was not too exciting, but I've experienced the pay off as it has greatly increased my ability to read the New Testament in Greek.

In other news, I've been offered a graduate assistantship at Duquesne. This is not a teaching assistantship - actually its more of an office job doing paperwork. Nonetheless, it comes with a nice stipend and payment of my tuition along with some good experience. On the other hand, I had just started a job at a nearby coffee shop and was beginning to enjoy the change of pace, learning new skills, and meeting all kinds of people. I've just been amazed at all the spiritual conversations I've already had with coworkers, which has made me lament that sacred/secular dichotomy in so many churches where "ministry" is relegated to only what goes on in the church walls.

So now... a couple weeks "off" - which means Christmas shopping, entertaining family that is coming to visit, working here and there, etc - and then home for Christmas. Then, Amber and I along with a few friends from Indy are off to Mexico City for a bit of a vacation! I'll have to post some pictures when we get back.

Tom Brokaw and Younger Evangelicals

If you missed it, check out the special on the Emerging Church that aired November 30th on the NBC Nightly News. Unfortunately, most of the special came down to the question of homosexuality and a commentary by Al Mohler. At least they rightly described younger evangelicals as a group far less myopic and one-sided as the previous generation as far as political views go.

The Experiment

So in the past few weeks, I have been steadily convicted by the fact that I often encounter hundreds of people each day without every saying a word to them. Whether its on the bus, on the sidewalk, at work, in class, at the grocery store, or wherever, it seems like our entire culture has been "B.F. Skinnerized" into this individualisitic-I-don't-talk-to-strangers kind of mindset. This programmatic behavior, I think, is quite ironic given that everyone these days is talking about community, third place, the search to belong, and the need to connect. Even Starbucks, the epitome of third place today, is a perfect case in point as people hike into the store, not just for great coffee, but to experience a place where they can relax and find a connection between work and home -- and yet, most people there are there alone, reading a book, on their laptop, or hurriedly getting through the line and out the door.

Noting this phenomenon, Nietzsche coined the term "herd mentality" which basically means that people are afraid to break rank so they act however the crowd around them is behaving. Thus, when a person boards a bus of silent people keeping to themselves, they too will keep to themselves as if they have blinders on and can't see the sea of humanity all around them. But in the case of the public transit, there is more to it, I think, in the fact that it is an unnatural environment and people already feel uncomfortable being on there in the first place.

Nonetheless, I have been convicted to attempt an experiment. Prefaced by Ephesians 5:1-2 which calls us to "walk in love", I devised a challenge to look for opportunities to show interest and care in the people I encounter as I walk through my day. How could the world be different if we actually showed an interest in the lives of strangers? In fact, the Greek word for hospitality is exactly that - "love of strangers." And community starts with hospitality, so as long as all of us uphold the herd mentality and our own fears of confronting a person we do not know, we will never know community.

So, this past week, as I traveled public transit, or walked streets, I made a cognizant effort to speak to people. It turned out to be harder than I thought - not just because of overcoming my fears, but also because the timing was often not right. It would be odd to try to start up a deep conversation with someone merely passing by me for a fleeting second, and sometimes caring for someone is done best by leaving alone to whatever they are doing at the time. But I needed to be ready. On the subway, I avoided reading or listening to my Mp3 player and made sure that the seat next to me was open. Sometimes the conversation was a mere "Hello" or "thank you" or "here, you can sit here." Sometimes it progressed to a bit more than that to more superficial talk about sports or the weather (which usually just makes me more uncomfortable!). But even amidst these seeming failures, I had become all the more aware of the people surrounding me, all the more aware of truly living in and appreciating the moment I had been given. The people on this subway are part of the sea of humanity God loves and this moment - no matter how mundane it may seem - is spiritual.

Then, this weekend I was in Chicago for a philosophy conference (more on that in another post) in which my friend Justin and I spent a lot of time catching up while riding Chi-town's "L". As we conversed and caught up with each other while standing on the subway, apparently a young man next to us seemed compelled to join our conversation. So we met Brian and found out he was a math student at Loyola. We spoke for a while about various things, interspersed with conversations between Justin and myself. Brian was the perfect example for why I think I have been so convicted about this idea of talking to strangers. Here he was among a throng of people, probably having lived in Chicago for a couple years now, and it was very obvious that he didn't have any friends and was dying for connection with someone. So, I was happy to talk to him, but the situation took an extreme turn when he asked how he could find us on Facebook. I thought, "whoa, this just went from friendly conversation to stalker language"). This question made Justin and I feel extremely awkward and conflicted. It was like he had crossed a line into personal space too fast. But it was more than that - his motives were very clear that it wasn't that we had found a long lost mutual soulmate or that he was really interested in us but that he was grabbing out for someone or anyone who would respond. I think this is what made it feel all the more awkward. But the entire situation helped to form my understanding of my experiment and how I should continue to go about it.

So, on Saturday afternoon, I was heading back to Midway on the L to catch my return flight. After a couple stops, an elderly man sat down next to me. He couldn't have been much more different than I as I soon found out. Tony was in his sixties with three adult children and some grandkids who moved from Mexico to Chicago when he was 22 and is still working at a warehouse to get by. I found out about his family, the kind of work he does, and we talked about a number of different things related to Chicago and the importance of getting an education and learning skills. Then, I asked him if he was going to church tomorrow, and he wavered and waffled with his answer. Several minutes later, on his own prodding, he brought it back up: "Maybe I'll go to church tomorrow or maybe I'll take my grandkids to a movie. Or maybe I'll just watch some football. I love football." We chuckled about this and talked about the Bears and Colts and Steelers for a bit. We talked about the cost of living in Chicago as compared to Indiana where I grew up. He said, "Yes, I have always had expenses to pay for and have had to work overtime many times, but somehow we have always gotten by." I said, "You're right. It's amazing how God always gives us what we really need. We have so much to be thankful for." We talked about the many things we often take for granted - our health, family, ability to make a living, and so forth.

Then, Tony looked at me and said, "Are you Catholic?" I replied: "No, I grew up Protestant." He responded, "Well, I guess it doesn't really matter where you go as long as you do go and you don't sin or do anything bad." There was a pause for a moment, and then Tony spoke again, "You know, I grew up Catholic, but now I'm just confused. [I thought, you're telling me!] I mean, with all that has come out about the priests being corrupt and molesting children and so on, why should I believe what they say? Why should I give money to people who do things like that? Why should I go to church. I mean, I want my grandkids to learn, but why would I want to take them there?" I just listened intently and empathized as he concluded his thought: "So, I guess it doesn't really matter if you go to church as long as you do what is right. What do you think about that?" I replied with whatever just came to my mind: "I think all of that reminds me of how imperfect I am and that whenever we put faith in people - church leaders, politicians, or whoever - that they're going to fail us and the only person that we can really have faith in is Jesus Christ because he really was perfect. It reminds me that the church will always be imperfect because its full of imperfect people like me. But even that doesn't really minimize the difficulty you're dealing with. I agree with you, it's so hard to know what to do and so difficult to make a decsion during these times." He said, "But shouldn't the priests be held to a higher standard? They're even trained to do the right thing." I responded: "Of course, they should be held to a higher standard, but don't give up on church just because of them. I think we need church so we can learn how to live in community and learn how to love one another. But again, that doesn't mean it's easy. This is all still very hard."

We talked for a little while longer until we reached out stop. I was mesmerized. This man had poured out his heart to me - a stranger - and it all happened on the L because I was brave enough to ask him a few questions about himself (and because we had a 25 minute ride ahead of us!). It's extremely unlikely that I'll ever meet Tony again, but can the affect of that brief conversation - on each of us - be measured? Could it be that the world would be different if we merely purposed in our hearts to walk in love, to view the strangers around us as our neighbor, to understand missional living as - at the very least - emanating the love of God to those we encounter in our day to day lives?

Catching Up

Well, as anyone can see, it's been a while since I've posted on my blog. Grad School is seriously kicking my butt and it's making me realize how stupid I've been all my life. For the most part, I've been immersed in Aristotle's Metaphysics, which means, there's not much I can say that would probably interest anyone out there (unless you really are, for some strange reason, concerned as to whether Aristotle's forms are particular or universal!). At times, I think, "What the heck did I get myself into and what purpose will this serve in the future?!" Yet, when I step back and consider the huge influence Aristotle continues to have on Western thinking and Christianity (particularly through Aquinas), I can't help but believe that there is value in understanding his arguments and evaluating how it has effected our worldview.

On another note, for my ethics class I am writing a paper on a comment Augustine made about impartiality in On Christian Doctrine that is quite intriguing. Here's what he said:

"All people should be loved equally. But you cannot do good to all people equally, so you should take particular thought for those who, as if by lot, happen to be particularly close to you in terms of place, time, or any other circumstances. Suppose that you had plently of something which had to be given to someone in need of it but could not be given to two people, and you met two people, neither of whom had a greater need or a close relationship to you than the other: you could do nothing more just than to choose by lot the person to whom you should give what could not be given to both. Analogously, since you cannot take thought for all men, you must settle by lot in favour of the one who happens to be more closely associated with you in temporal matters."

Hm... Could it be that all our ethical issues on impartiality could be settled by flipping a coin? It is interesting when you stop to think about it how much of our lives is preconditioned by "lot" (you may call that providence, chance, randomness, whatever). So much of about our lives has little to do with our choice - what family or country we're born into, the type of religious education we receive as a child, our access to information, our ability to get an education, the wealth we have, etc. Of course, in some of these cases, we have some influence, but I can't help but think that there are probably a couple billion people out there in the world much smarter than I, who, had they been given the same opportunities and upbringing as I would be achieving inconceivable feats. We do not live in an equal opportunity world.

As for the particular point of the quote, it seems like a premise that may help us in many situations. Scriptural commands leave us in tension much of the time. How we balance loving equally with the fact that we have limited resources, time, etc is a very difficult question. We fret about so many decisions between two or more options - where to go to college, which ministry to give to, who to spend our time with, where to volunteer, etc etc. Oftentimes, these questions lead to a "Discerning the Will of God" seminar that is either one of two extremes - hyper-mystical or a mathematical equation. Perhaps, Augustine's point are helpful in these situations - if everything looks good, we should just draw straws. Because all the information will never come in - we will never get "all" the facts and be able to make a completely objective decision about these kind of decisions.

On the other hand, this issue is made more complicated by the nature of our time. Now, in the globalized world in which we live, I have the capacity to know more about the physical and spiritual needs of someone living on the other side of the world than a homeless person in my city. Not only does this mean we are bombarded by far more than two choices for any given situation where people are asking us for help, but our decision is often conditioned by the information available AND the person "more closely associated" maybe nowhere near us in place or time. In other words, the question of "who is my neighbor" becomes a bit tricky amidst all the opportunities before us and all the people we know.

These are just some initial thoughts on the topic. Any thoughts of your own?

Harry Potter and Choice

One common motif throughout the Harry Potter series is the holding out of hope that people can change, that even the worst people can do good. Like Gandalf in the Lord of the Rings who tells Frodo that he believes Gollum may still have some good use left in him before it’s all over, many of even the worst characters have moments of redemption in Harry Potter. This is no better revealed than through the life of Snape, who years before, had a part in the rise of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. And though many people did not trust him, Dumbledore did through and through, and when all was said and done it was revealed that he truly was on the side of good and, as Harry says to his son, Albus Severus, in the epilogue, he “was probably the bravest man I ever knew” (758).

There are countless other smaller examples. For instance, when Hermione, Ron, and Harry are taken captive and brought to Malfoy Manor, Draco is hesitant to admit to their identities. Of course, Harry is hard to recognize because of a Sting Charm, but Hermione would not have been difficult at all. Then, there is Peter Pettigrew, who showed one “tiny, merciful impulse” (470) while strangling Harry that led to his own demise. There are also the goblins, who are not concerned with wizarding wars, but some of them come to Harry’s aid after all.

Examples abound during the final battles at Hogwarts. Percy, the “ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron” (606) returns to fight alongside his family. And Crabbe, though intending to terminate Ron, destroyed one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes instead (and himself). After everyone believes Harry to be dead, Bane and the other Centaurs, who have stayed out of the situation up til this point, leave the safety of the forest and attack Voldemort and his men. Kreacher, the mongrelly house-elf devoted to the Slytherins, leads an army of house-elves in attack of the Death Eaters as well. And the Malfoys reveal they are far more concerned with the safety and well-being of their son than fighting for Voldemort.

Hope is even held out for Voldemort himself. Even he is offered forgiveness in light of all he has done and the looming judgment ahead of him for it. Just before the final duel, Harry pipes up: “But before you try to kill me, I’d advise you think about what you’ve done… Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle... It’s your one last chance, it’s all you’ve got left… I’ve seen what you’ll be otherwise… Be a man… try… Try for some remorse…” (741).

The upshot of this is that a message of love - which is primarily what the series is about - will always entail a message of hope, forgiveness, reconciliation, and regard even for one's enemies. The world is not as black and white as we would hope it to be. Harry finds out that his father was not the perfect wizard of his memories, but rather, was a man who picked on others, played dirty tricks, and regularly broke school rules in his younger days. And even the highly esteemed Albus Dumbledore turns out to have some flaws in his character. This is reality: The good show moments of moral failure and the evil can show shining moments of virtue.

By having a realistic view of the world, though however much we may detest our enemies, we can still believe they can change, still hold out an offer for reconciliation, still be aware that if it were not for some other combination of circumstances I too may have taken the wrong path. This is a powerful message that all of us would be better off to take to heart. Do we offer reconciliation even to our worst enemies? Even more, do we believe that to show remorse and contrition to be the manly thing to do, or are we so full of ourselves that we believe the person who doesn't back down from his position, doesn't own up for his misdeeds is the stronger person? Here too we see one of the Kingdom messages that the Potter series is trying to reveal: often times strength and power - real power - is in the most unlikely of places. The Kingdom of God sees the world upside-down to the economy of our day to day comparisons and strivings for success and greatness.

Redemptive Analogies in Harry Potter

I would like to focus on the messianic nature of the story line the Deathly Hallows which is noted throughout the series but becomes ever more clear in the last book. [SPOILER ALERT – I WILL BE MENTIONING VERY DETAILED INFORMATION ABOUT THE LAST BOOK, SO IF YOU DON’T WANT THE END RUINED, DON’T KEEP READING!]

Let us begin with Harry Potter. Even the name – like most of the names in the series – carries important significance. “Harry” in England, is about the most mundane, normal name one could possible have (much like Joshua, James, and Jesus were back in Israel about 2000 years ago). He is “the Potter” (cf. Isa. 64:8), “the Chosen One” (e.g., the Messiah). While the names in the series also reveal Rowling’s expertise in ancient Greek mythology (Regulus, Remus, Sirius, Romulus, Arcturus – all names of stars), creativity (Kreacher the house-elf is a “creature”), and use of other languages (“Xenophilus” which means “lover of strangers” in Greek, is the name of a man who is obsessed with odd and strange things), other Christian names are evident. For instance, Sirius Black’s three friends are James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and Remus John Lupin – the three disciples who spent the most time with Jesus. And then there is one of Harry’s roommates, Dean Thomas, who, consequentially, doubts Harry throughout a good portion of the series until we hear his testimony of faith in the forest – “I know Harry Potter. And I reckon he’s the real thing – the Chosen One, or whatever you want to call it” (Deathly Hallows, 299). Then there are the names of Harry’s archenemies (besides Voldemort), the Malfoys, which refer to Satan (Lucius = Lucifer; Draco = Dragon, cf, Rev. 12; Scorpius =scorpions, cf. Luke 10:18-19).

At the outset of Deathly Hallows, the evil Lord Voldemort is on his way to effectively becoming the Prince of the entire wizard world (cf. John 16:11), lurking behind the scenes while he uses people as puppets to achieve his evil ends. As part of his effort to create a pure-blood wizarding world, Voldemort – who is only half-blood himself, creates a “Muggle-born Registration Commission” in which all Muggle-born wizards must reveal themselves and confess that they had stolen their wizarding powers – a scene that, no doubt, purposefully conjures up images of Nazi Germany and the desire to wipe out the Jews by Hitler (who was not a full “Arian” himself!).

Harry, Ron, and Hermione then set out on their “quest” (akin to a knight’s quest? Pilgrim’s Progress?) to defeat Voldemort by destroying Horcruxes, items in which the Lord has encased a slice of his soul in order to obtain immortality. The story is not only redemptive as a general analogy of the fight between good and evil; rather, Rowling becomes quite overt in her use of religious language and metaphor at times. In one chapter, Harry and Hermione head to Godric’s Hollow, the location of Harry’s childhood where Voldemort killed his parents and the cemetery where his parents are now buried. They arrive on Christmas Eve as Muggles (non-magical people) are singing Christmas carols in a nearby church (one of numerous references to Christmas and singing carols throughout the series). In the cemetery, they find the tombstone of Ariana Dumbledore (Albus’ sister) with the epitaph: “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (cf. Matt. 6:21) – one of the most overt references to Scripture in the book. Moments later, Harry and Hermione come to the tombs of James & Lily Potter, inscribed with the following verbatim quotation from Scripture: “The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death” (cf. 1 Cor. 15:26).

For the reader of the Bible, the context of 1 Corinthians 15 makes it quite obvious where the rest of the book is headed, but it is not quite as clear to Harry. Harry takes these words to heart, knowing them to have important meaning but unsure completely of their depth. “It means…you know…living beyond death. Living after death” (DH, 328). Harry is not completely sure of this answer, as he thinks of the fact that his parents are still buried before him. A more complete meaning of this statement, however, is yet to come. Harry continues to peruse this phrase throughout the rest of the story. At the home of Xenophilius Lovegood, they are told about three objects that would make one “master of Death.” One item is a “Resurrection Stone” that will enable one to bring people back from the dead – but while they return to life they suffer as they do not “truly belong” in the mortal world (409). This reminds Harry of the time he fought Voldemort earlier, and when their wands connected, it seemingly brought Cedric Diggory, his parents, and others back to life – but still, they were “pale imitations” (427) [think: “Now we see but a poor reflection…” (1 Cor. 13:12)]. Despite the limitations, he wondered if these items were what he needed to defeat Voldemort and believed this to be the answer to the riddle on his parents epitaph. That must be it: to master the power of the Hallows in order to overcome the power of Voldemort and his Horcruxes.

However, this is not to be the case. In the pensieve, as Harry relives Snape’s memories after he has perished, he is brought face to face with a conversation with Dumbledore and Snape that details what must happen. When Voldemort killed Harry’s mother, “the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, and a fragment of Voldemort’s soul was blasted apart from the whole, and latched itself onto the only living soul left in the collapsed building” – it went into the baby, Harry (686). The innocent baby took upon himself the evil of Lord Voldemort (cf. 2 Cor. 5:21), and if Voldemort is to be completely destroyed, Harry must die was well. And it must be at the hand of Voldemort. In effect, Evil must vanquish Good, but in reality, while doing it, it will be destroying itself instead [Quite an interesting concept of Atonement that is worth being explored, I might add].

At last, everything about his life is extremely clear. He knows his destiny and knows what must be done. He is one “who had already been marked for slaughter” (693, cf. Isa. 53:7). Finally, the time comes to face Voldemort. Harry heads into the dark forest (the Garden of Gethsemane?), under the power of his Cloak of Invisibility and the golden Snitch Dumbledore had left him in his will. Then it dawns on him: the Resurrection Stone is inside the Snitch. As he utilizes the stone, those he most admires who have gone before him come back “neither ghost nor truly flesh” (698): his parents, Sirius, and Lupin. It is this “cloud of witness” (Heb. 12:1) that will walk with him into the forest to the place where he must meet Voldemort. They walk with him as sources of encouragement, and with all his friends at Hogwarts on his mind. But he knows they will offer no power in defeating Voldemort. The last enemy is death, and he himself must face it.

As Harry approaches Voldemort, the Stone slips from his fingers, his encouragers vanish, and he is forced to face his death alone. His wand still in his robe, he stands before Voldemort without even putting up a fight (cf. Matt 26:52-54). And then it happens: “A flash of green light, and everything was gone” (704).

Harry wakes up to find himself in something of a dream world. There on the floor is the piece of Voldemort’s soul, shriveling and dying. And there is Dumbledore is there too. He looks around and finds he happens to be at King’s Cross, the name of the London train station where he would go to catch the Hogwart’s Express at the beginning of each school year. Metaphorically, “taking the train” is symbolic of going down the tunnel of the afterlife. The picture is also symbolic that the end of Harry’s magical life is connected with his beginning. Yet, I can’t help but notice that “King’s Cross” – the King of kings’ Cross” is an apt name to be associated with a sacrificial death.

Harry asks Dumbledore if he’s dead. “On the whole, dear boy, I think not,” replied Dumbledore (707). Harry exclaims: “But I should have died – I didn’t defend myself! I meant to let him kill me!” “And that,” said Dumbledore, “will, I think, have made all the difference.” Harry, being “obedient to death” (Phil. 2:8) . Harry’s sacrificial death made it so that when Voldemort struck him with a Killing Curse, it was not Harry, but Voldemort’s own sliver of soul in Harry, that dies.

Harry comes back to life – a true resurrection as compared to those brought back by the Resurrection Stone. However, he fakes dead for some time. Voldemort’s band cheer and celebrate and then head up to Hogwarts with the limp body of Harry Potter. Then, as war breaks out when Neville Longbottom cuts off the head of Voldemort’s snake, Nagini (cf. Gen. 3:15), Harry is able to put on his Invisibility Cloak and remain hidden from everyone.

As the fighting wears on, Harry is more powerful than ever, being able to create Shield Charms that stretch across an entire hall to protect people from Voldemort’s curses. Those for whom Harry has died cannot be touched by the power of Voldemort. “Don’t you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people. I meant to, and that’s what did it…They’re protected from you. Haven’t you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? … You can’t touch them” (738). This scene seems very familiar to the words of Jesus: “The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep… No one takes it from me, but I lay it down on my own accord… My sheep listen to my voice…no one can snatch them out of my hand” (John 10:10, 18, 27-28).

I’m sure, after a closer read, much more could be said, but this is clearly enough to show that the Harry Potter series is a wonderful and powerful story that speaks to the reality of our lives, the beauty of the gospel, and our need for redemption… More on these thoughts in a later blog…

Harry Potter Saved My Soul

I have just finished reading the Harry Potter series (actually, I’ve read books 2-7 all in the last two months!), and I must say that I am quite disappointed with the conservative Christian community. And I hope they’re feeling a bit ashamed of themselves of making such a big deal of the magic and sorcery mentioned in the Harry Potter series (as if Rowling was trying to use a children’s book to promote Wicca) now that the final book in the series has revealed has revealed it to be perhaps the most redemptive, Christocentric series since the Chronicles of Narnia.

This, of course, should come as no surprise given that Rowling professes a love for the Inklings – that group of friends that included none other than C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and others (In fact, Rowling pays tribute to Lewis in the series, naming two of her characters “Cedric Diggory” and “Andrew Kirke,” both referring to “Digory Kirke,” the old professor from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe who discovered Narnia in The Magician’s Nephew. ..She has, in fact, even talked about her belief in God and her Christianity in some interviews.

If you are reading this, you must also be wondering about the title of this blog. I must be honest: The reading of the Harry Potter series – The Deathly Hallows especially – has been a balm to my soul and has renewed my vigor and love for the gospel story (what C.S. Lewis called a “true myth” and early church father Tertullian said was worth being believed because it was “impossible”). Rowling’s ability to tell a good story while weaving in – without forcing – redemptive metaphor and allegory when it is appropriate has helped me to appreciate again the power of Love, the One who conquered death, and the mythical nature of the grand story we find ourselves in.

There is so much that could be said from an examination of the Harry Potter books. The books address general themes that are not only important for children to ponder but for all of us – notions like love, justice and equality, racism, good versus evil, providence, the corruptive nature of power, ethical tensions (e.g. – should one lie if it will prevent the death of other people?), the importance of friendship and commitment, bravery and courage, the value of having a place called home, the importance of family and parents, and the truth that those who are considered nobodies in the world’s eyes are capable of doing amazing things.

So without further ado, the next several blogs will most likely deal with Harry Potter in some fashion of literary analysis…

The Humor of Big Business

So yesterday, we received our final bill from AT&T for our home in Indianapolis. I must confess, I certainly did laugh. Take a look...

Now, one must ask...is it really worth the cost of postage, paper, and processing for them to try to receive one penny from me? And is it really worth a check and 39 cents on my part to mail this back to them?! It's hard to take seriously the auto-generated "We'll miss you! Thanks for being a loyal customer" comment in the bill when they're trying to get back one cent... Not to mention the fact that I know it'll be sent to a collection agency if I don't pay it! Well... at least the envelope's recyclable - that's gotta count for something, right?

GO Cubs!!

Last Saturday night, we went to the PNC park to enjoy a beautiful night of baseball as the Cubs (who are tied for the lead in their division right now!) beat the Pirates! Although I can't say much for the seats we got (except that they were cheap - and we found free parking within a few minutes walk!), it did offer a really awesome view of the Pittsburgh skyline (which, I must admit, is a lot better than Indianapolis'). Thought you'd enjoy...

Moving Memories

For those who helped us move, we wanted to send out a huge "THANKS!" Here are a couple pictures Amber's parents took on the big day. I guess it is fitting that we finally write about it now as we the closing on our house in Indy was just this past Friday (no we didn't go back for it) and we got the official paperwork (and check - woohoo!!) in the mail today. We're certainly happy to get that hefty load off our shoulders (although we're still trying to figure out how our neighbors - who we asked to water the grass and flowers for the past month before it sold - managed to use twice as much water as we have in any month we've lived there!!).

First Days

On Sunday, Amber and I had the chance of visiting our first "Emergent" church in the Pittsburgh area (apparently, there are quite a few of them). It was a wonderful service, including a very challenging message on practicing silence, an active time of worship, and an opportunity to meet new people (LOTS of college students). In fact, we got invited by a couple afterwards to go out to dinner with a group of the church members who were none other than J.P. Moreland's daughter and son-in-law. I couldn't believe it. I had been accepted to go to Biola - and sit under Moreland's tutelage there - but decided not because of my concerns of the school's narrow, fundamentalist background. And now, here I am in Pittsburgh talking to some of his family members in an Emergent church...hilarious... Dinner was good too - I had my first crack at Belgium beer, and Rick Steves was right - they do have the best beer in the world.

Then on Monday the 27th, I had my first class of my Duquesne education - a course on Aquinas's Summa Contra Gentiles, book 1. The class was mostly a review of the syllabus and introductory remarks, but I am excited to learn more as the teacher is very interested in helping us understand the historical context in which Aquinas wrote and why he was so keen to utilize the philosophy of Aristotle (which, come to find out, made him the enemy of a lot of people in the church...I guess not much has changed!!).

Last night was also my first day of work at my new job - the school library. I was introduced to all the ins and outs of checking books out, organizing books, shelving books, etc etc... not the most exciting work. It was a long night, and after closing and hopping on public transportation late at night, I didn't get home until 11:15...so we'll see how long this lasts!!

Ethics As First Philosophy: Living for the Neighbor

So I have finally finished reading Otherwise Than Being, a postmodern philosophical work by Jewish author Emmanual Levinas. It is most definitely the hardest read I've ever undertaken. I hope to provide a more thorough summary of the work in a later post (or maybe I should say "summaries"), but it should suffice at this point to say that what Levinas is fighting for is a view of the world and of oneself (being/essence) that does not leave the Other or the neighbor merely as an afterthought. In other words, rather than developing our understanding of ourselves in relation to our cognitive ability to think (contra Descartes, "I think, therefore I am") we ought to consider our existence within the context of the Other, as oneself-for-the-other, i.e. - my life has little meaning unless its connected to those around me and lived for those around me. Our bodily existence is not a machine (as Descartes said) and our relations with others cannot be reduced to a list of rules that we implement as a computer processes information. Rather, life requires decision-making, balancing and weighing various ethical issues, and making particular choices within unique moments. And in our finitude, we will never have ALL the information and all the objective certainty to know we will make the absolutely perfect decision in an ethical situation. And so, our decision must be based on love, on care for the Other. Thus, Levinas states, philosophy (philo=love, sophia=wisdom) is not so much "the love of wisdom but the wisdom of love." Levinas writes:

“The neighbor concerns me before all assumption, all commitment consented to or refused… I am bound to him before any liaison contracted. He orders me before being recognized. Here there is a relationship of kinship outside of all biology, “against all logic.” It is not because the neighbor would be recognized as belonging to he same genus as me that he concerns me. He is precisely other. The community with him begins in my obligation to him. The neighbor is a brother… In a sense nothing is more burdensome than a neighbor. Is not this desired one the undesirable itself? The neighbor who could not leave me indifferent, the undesirable desired one, has not revealed to desire the ways of access to him… To take hold of oneself for a present of welcome is already to take one’s distance, and miss the neighbor.” (87-88).

Again, more could be said, and hopefully, in another post I'll do more justice to the book. However, I wanted to share a poem (now put to music as of today) that I was inspired to write. Unlike most of my music, this came to me all in a matter of moments and I had it all together in finished form (with music) in just three days. I call it "Across the Street," but perhaps it should have a subheading stating "in honor of Emmanuel Levinas" as I believe it communicates at least one of the main facets of his philosophical work.

There you are traversing // Across the room you walk
Hiding behind the draperies // And on the phone you talk
I ponder if we’ll ever meet,
My neighbor across the street

Moonlight shines above the Burgh // Down here the TV glows
Living room lights caress the curbs // Mixing where traffic flows
A likely place where I might greet
The neighbor across the street

We go about our separate lives // Making calls, getting the mail
Dressing our selves, leaving the drive // It goes by fast, ever so frail
Could we pause, take time for tea
My dear neighbor across the street?

What if you were aching? // What if I heard you scream?
Would I keep channel surfing // With eyes glued to the screen?
It wouldn’t hurt to get off my seat
And make a stroll across the street

We go about our separate lives // Making calls, getting the mail
Dressing our selves, leaving the drive // It goes by fast, ever so frail
Could we pause, take time for tea
My dear neighbor across the street?

We may pass while on a walk // While you’re out for a jog
Or maybe I could bravely knock // And step out of this fog
Love is calling out to me // To see the neighbor across the street
I’m hostage ‘til he sets me free // The neighbor across the street

An Explanation of this New Journey

Many have asked why I've decided to pursue a master's degree in philosophy and why I've chosen to do it at at Catholic university of all places. Below is the general response I have given to those who have previously asked so that if there is anyone else still out there that is curious about my decision they can be rest assured I haven't become a heretic or fallen off the deep end. So here goes...

As for reasons behind my decision, interestingly enough, I talked to several Christian professors of philosophy (one at Calvin, one at Cedarville, and one at Grand Rapids Seminary) and all of them encouraged me to pursue a program at a Catholic school as they are about the only schools that have any kind of Christian bent that take philosophy seriously. I actually applied to Biola (an evangelical school in L.A.) and got accepted, but I had concerns as to the limitations of their program (as well as the cost of living!). One of Duquesne's strengths is Catholic Philosophy (e.g. – Augustine, Aquinas, Anselm, etc), which is basically the first 1500 years of church history and how these theologians appropriated current philosophical constructs to their thinking about God.

Upon graduation at Duquesne, I will then pursue a PhD (4-5 year) program in the area of philosophical theology or philosophy of religion. Here I hope to gain a better perspective of how philosophical thought has influenced Christian theology throughout church history, particularly in regards to its continued commitments to Platonic and Enlightenment thinking in Western Christianity. This study will afford opportunities to open up dialogue between other kinds of philosophy and Christian thinking including Eastern Philosophy and Postmodernism and consider what positive, redemptive contributions they can bring to the table.

Vocationally, the goal is that I be academically qualified to teach in a university setting (Christian or public – both of which have their advantages); however, if an opportunity within a church or para-church opened up that appeared to be an adequate fit with my giftedness, I would be very interested. My studies have vital missional applications as they relate to how Christians ought to interact with various cultures. Thus, I am very interested in teaching in a non-Western setting where the culture views the world from a different philosophical perspective than that of the West.

To put it another way, I could say that my motives for studying philosophy are three-fold:

(1) Jesus was not a White Anglo-Saxon Protestant living in American Suburbia but was a Jewish Middle Easterner from the 1st Century, so understanding philosophy from different ages and contexts is extremely important to understanding Jesus as well as other religions and cultures (thus, philosophy is a very important topic for missionaries).

(2) Up until only recent Church History, philosophy was an extremely important topic to theologians. Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, Tertullian, John Calvin, Jonathan Edwards, and the Apostle Paul all addressed highly philosophical questions and engaged in the philosophy of people from non-Christian backgrounds. By seeing philosophy as (“the wisdom of the world”), without noting its redemptive aspects, we are then neglecting large portions of church history and thought.

(3) Inadvertently, point two also reveals how philosophy has influenced theology (and vice versa), which should be a very important topic for us so we can consider what presuppositions we have about the world, evil, life, humanity, etc that we bring to the table before we even open up the Bible (or any other book). Understanding our presuppositions will help us to dialogue with others, but it will also help us to consider the ways we add to the Gospel with our own Western thinking, cultural beliefs, etc.

[And for those who don't recognize the picture, it is Raphael's "School of Athens" depicting Plato and Aristotle, a fresco painted in 1510 at the Vatican Museum - I actually took this picture last May when we were there in 2006.]

Learning the Pennyslvania Way

Well today I experienced the joys of getting acclimated to the process required to get one's driver's license and title registered in the state of PA. First, one must go to the DMV with about five forms of identification (SSI Card, Passport, two proofs of address, old driver's license). After paying for that, I went over to AAA to get my car title transfered (yup - the state has contracted out all their licensing to a private org!). They told me I had to get the VIN confirmed by an auto mechanic. So, next, I went to Sears Automotive so someone could write the numbers of my VIN onto a sheet of paper. Back to AAA to pay out the rear for a title and license plate. And finally, tomorrow I have to get my car inspected and have emissions tests ran on it...and then do it all over again for Amber's car. Craziness!

Today, I was also offered a job at the Duquesne school library working part-time as a circulation desk assistant. It's not great pay but certainly better than a fast-food joint or retail, and since the rest of my life will be spent doing research, I thought I might get used to spending my time in the library.

That's basically the highlights of today... tomorrow we check out the farmer's market that goes on every Saturday morning at the Mount Lebanon main street strip.

Brock

Artwork and Nature Make for a Good Sabbath

Yesterday, we took a much-needed day off from all the unpacking and settling in here in Pittsburgh and went to Phipps Conservatory & Botanical Gardens. But this isn’t just any botanical gardens, as it is currently showcasing several art pieces by Chihuly interspersed within the different rooms. Some blend in so well with the plants that one can easily walk right by if they’re not paying attention. Here’s some of our favorites:















Yes - the leafy plant in the middle of the far left is made of glass!

























Anywho...back to real life after a brief respite (Amber just said, "We need to clean up around here. We're living in dishevelment." I, on the other, think it looks pretty good all things considered). Today, I spent my day cleaning up the house and testing the light rail public transportation system to see how it worked (no muggings or winding up on the complete opposite side of Pittsburgh, so I considered it a victory). And tomorrow, I have a job interview at the Duquesne Library, so I'm going to actually have to get up early and dress nice... ugh...

Onward Eastward (Moving Part 2)

At 11:15 AM on Saturday morning, we said goodbye to our friends and family who worked so vigorously to clean our house and load our cars. In our caravan of vehicles was Beth’s Jetta, my two-door Civic, Amber’s Civic, the Clark’s GMC Sierra truck, and the 15-foot moving truck – all packed to the hilt! As soon as we got out of Indianapolis, we came across road construction and six miles of stopped traffic. We inched forward, and over half an hour later, we were finally in the clear (good thing we left early!). And as we traversed across Indiana, I sang…

So keep'em coming these lines on the road
And keep me responsible be it a light or heavy load
And keep me guessing with these blessings in disguise
And I'll walk with grace my feet and faith my eyes

- Derek Webb “Faith My Eyes”

After a brief stop for Taco Bell, it was on to Ohio. At mile marker 54 (the exit for Cedarville University), I called my brother Bryce and talked to him for 15 minutes. A couple hours later, we were in the hills of East Ohio where we saw a community of Amish men – all adorned in their hats – building a huge post-frame barn. The sight – combined with the backseat full of house plants fighting the heat and wind of an unair-conditioned car reminded me that though this trip is just one leg of a journey on a path meandering ever on and on and stopping every so often into a new abode until I finally make it home.

Father Abraham/Do you remember when
You were called to a land/And didn’t know the way
‘Cause we are wandering/ In a foreign land
We are children of the/Promise of the faith

And I long to find it/Can you feel it, too?
That the sun that’s shining/Is a shadow of the truth

This is a far country, a far country/ Not my home

- Andrew Petersen “Far Country”

Down a steep hill and across a bridge and we were into West Virginia. The moving truck – and my little Honda for that matter(!) – were having quite the trouble getting up the hills, but onward we persevered. In only a few moments, we finally finished our trek on I-70 and were heading north on I-79 to Pittsburgh.

Finally, all five of our cars reached the house – just a couple minutes before our landlord arrived to meet us and give us the keys. And then came the “joy” of unloading. We unpacked what was necessary from the truck, took a break to eat the lasagna my mom had packed us, and went back out to unpack the cars. Finally, exhausted, we went to bed and left the rest to be done in the morning.

We are so thankful to be here – for all those who helped us packing and unpacking – and that all our stuff made it safely…ok so Amber JUST unpacked the first box with a broken dish. I think super glue will fix it! We’re still settling in for sure – and still waiting for the Sept. 7 closing date of our house in Indy – but we’ve had some good opportunities to get to know the town already and do some sightseeing (more on that later).

Last Days in Indy (Moving Part 1)

Greetings from Pittsburgh!

We’re finally getting settled into our new abode here in the Steeler city (where we are quickly finding that everything really does revolve around the Steelers!). Needless to say, the last two weeks have been jammed with activities as we wrapped up our lives in Indianapolis and headed east. Here’s a recap:

At the end of July, our good friends Jake & Carrie hosted a going-away party for us (with the help of Kandice and Beth). This was no easy task, mind you, not because we have such an overwhelming number of friends but because Carrie’s grandfather was laid rest that same morning (not to mention the unexpected guests who shared intriguing tales about “butt darts”…). All in all, it was a wonderful Saturday evening filled with laughter and joy as many of our closest friends sat around and told stories and reminisced. As the night wore on, I had to keep telling myself, “Soak this moment in. Really enjoy yourself and this time to be with these people.” Truly, it was such a wonderful moment, I felt almost like I was a part of a movie, as when the camera is panning away from a picture perfect house at the end of the flick and the light is glowing from the house while laughter and conversation can be heard from within. A little taste of heaven.

A couple days later – July 31^st to be exact – was my last day as an employee of College Park Church. The church staff planned a wonderful luncheon in our honor including an unforgettable relay race involving two wheelchairs (both of which will most likely never be used again!), spinning around cones, and lots of fear and trust as Amber and I were wheeled around by members of the staff [Note to self: when wheelchairs begin moving at more than 3-4 mph, they start rattling and shaking as if an earthquake has caught hold of them]. By the end of the lunch, we were overwhelmed by the generosity and friendship of our church family as they showered us with words of encouragement and gifts.

At this point in the summer, we were beginning to wonder if our house would ever sell. Another person was ready to make an offer and backed out. We lowered the price in hopes of getting it off our hands before moving. During this nail-biting time I not only learned the all the more the truth that I’m not the Sovereign of the universe, but Amber and I had the fun of hosting my college friends, Phil & Krista, for KC’s wedding and introduce them to the joy of having to keep your house immaculate at the possibility of a showing that could occur at any moment. That first week of August is still a blur as it was filled with running around with the bridal party (on crutches mind you, as my foot was broken!) and catching up with old friends. Like the parties the week before, it was a memorable time of fun and laughter – particularly when the groomsmen went putt-putting. We laughed until our bellies hurt on one hole when KC hit his ball out of the “rock trap” (instead of a sand trap) only to watch it roll twelve feet right past the hole, bounce on the back wall, and roll all the way back to about three inches from where the ball had been.

The last week in Indy was frenzied to say the least. As I was running around performing errands, setting up our utilities in Pittsburgh, and changing our addresses with every company known to man, I was also fielding phone calls from our real estate company. On Monday night (the 6^th), Dennis, Timothy, and I watched the extended version of The Return of the King. Ah…what a good movie. Yet again, I cried near the end when Aragorn is crowned king and the four Hobbits bow only to hear Aragorn say, “My friends, you bow to no one.” Then, Aragorn and all the people of the land bow in honor to the four Hobbits.

Tuesday the 7^th. We finally get the call we’ve been waiting for – four days before the move! An offer has been made on the house – and a good one at that. Our agent thinks he can get another $1,000 out of it, and I’m thinking, “Let’s just take the offer!!!” Things started moving fast at that point. As we boxed the last of our belongings, an inspection was done on the house.

On Friday night, after a long day at the State Fair (gotta love how that greasy food sticks to your stomach!), Amber’s parents and several friends helped us start loading up the moving truck. By the end of the night, we were over halfway done. On Saturday morning, we finished loading up the truck and our vehicles – and thanks to my dad’s slick packing skills, we somehow were able to fit everything in. The truck was load from top to bottom, and I had no problem admitting my cowardice and allowing Amber’s dad to drive it to Pittsburgh! ...

Sometimes Life is Crazy

So, obviously by the length of elapsed time since my previously post, life has seemingly taken me by the proverbial horns, preventing me from offering another post. So, here I am with a brief moment, to provide an update. On the last two months - a whirlwind tour as it were.

In April, I went to the Emergent philosophical theology conference in Philadelphia. The rest of the conference went very well and was quite captivating, although I had to leave a bit early from the last session. From there, I traveled to Pittsburgh to interview with the chair of the philosophy department at Duquesne University. Upon that interview, I was given a verbal statement that I would be accepted into the M.A. program... a few weeks later, I got my official letter!

So, beginning in mid-May, Amber and I began making plans to move to Pittsburgh! We've spent many hours getting our house in order and ready to sell. We tried the "For Sale By Owner" route with little luck and decided to finally go with an agent...although we're still waiting for it to sell.

Since then, it seems like just about everything I touch ends up breaking. I sprayed my lawn for weeds: it killed most of everything in the front yard (thankfully, the fertilizer is now kicking in). The home computer crashed (again, thank God for friends, we were able to get our stuff off the computer and on to a band-aid computer for the time-being that was donated to us). Then, my work laptop got infested with adware and popups that took me until today (about a month later) to finally fix. After that, our lawn mower broke, my bike had brake problems, I got poison ivy from a family camping trip, and then I royally bruised (and possibly broke) my foot playing soccer last week. To top it off, our car got a flat tire on the way to an eye doctor appointment this morning. Whew! All on top off the extra time spent making arrangements to move... Needless to say, God has been teaching us patience over the last few days.

Aside from all the craziness, I have signed up for fall classes (am taking an Intro to Moral Philosophy, Aristotle/Metaphysics, and Thomas Aquinas courses), had a great picnic 4th of July party with our small group, and are making plans to look for housing in Pittsburgh this weekend.
Of Late, I've been reading the Gospel of John in the Greek, which really forces one to take a lot more time thinking about the passage. I have really been amazed at the many number of times the crowds wanted to kill Jesus for what he said about himself. John 5:18, 7:1, 7:25, 7:30, 7:44, 8:20, 8:59, 10:31-33, and 10:39 all speak of people who desired or tried to kill/stone/seize Jesus (but to no avail) for some reason or another - because he healed on the Sabbath (5:18), called himself equal with God (5:18), called himself greater than Abraham (8:59), and for blasphemy - Claiming to be God (10:33). If there is any veracity to John's testimony, one must wrestle with these statements about Jesus for they reveal that he was not merely a good teacher. Over and over again, the crowd was divided (schisma - where we get the word schizophrenic) about Jesus. Some believed in him while others thought he a raving lunatic. He was saying and doing radical things that got him into radical trouble with those in power during his day. He wasn't the quite, meek, and mild Jesus that is often portrayed in the movies. He wasn't simply a nice person that practiced nonviolence (although he surely did this as well). He made claims about the world, about the value of the poor, about the tension between justice and law, and about God and himself that people must still wrestle with today.

Brock's Road Trip: Day 1

Today, I embarked on the ten hour road trip that took me to Philadelphia to hear Jack Caputo and Richard Kearney talk about metaphysics, deconstruction, and postmodernism. I won't say much about the conference, because we only met for two hours tonight and I haven't had time to digest what was said.

But the trip is worthy of mentioning.

I began at 7AM with what seemed to be a noneventful road trip, driving my (now deceased) grandpa's old (and behemoth-like) Grand Marquis. As a way of saving gas, I bundled up in coat, hat, and gloves and refused to turn on the heat. Two hours later (and still cold), after a brief interruption with construction and traffic on the east side of Indianapolis and horrifically tight driving conditions near Dayton, I found myself racing into Bob Evans to relieve myself of the coffee I had made in the morning. There, I had breakfast with my brother, Bryce, while listening to “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” in the background.

From there, I was off to traverse the entire states of Ohio and Pennsylvania. As I drove, the sun pleasantly warmed my car so much so that I had to take off my coat and even roll down the window for a moment. From Columbus to the state line, I listened to Over the Rhine (“Hello Ohio/The back roads/I know Ohio/Like the back of my hand/Alone Ohio/Where the river bends/And it's strange to see your story end…”). Then came West Virginia – for about ten miles. But it was a gorgeous fifteen minutes (seriously!).

As I moved into Pennsylvania, I merged onto the Pennsylvania turnpike. Up into the mountains I climbed – and noticed the temperature in the car steadily decreasing. By the time my bladder needed emptying and my gas tank needed filling, I found myself at the height of the Blue Ridge Mountains – and in the middle of a snowstorm. On the ground had formed two-three inches of sludge, and when I stepped out of my car I was instantly blasted with a powerfully biting wind. I put the gas pump nozzle into the tank and jumped back into the car.

Then, I was back on the road (with the heater now turned on). The weather cleared bit by bit as I trekked down the mountain, swerving through turns and channeling through tunnels. Finally, several hours later, I was in Philadelphia.

As I got off the turnpike onto a local highway, I was relieved to find that my exit was directly before miles of backed up traffic (whew!). From there, I made my way to Eastern University only to find a gigantic tree across the road and numerous power lines on the very road that was to take me to the front entrance of the school. After driving around aimlessly for fifteen minutes, I finally humbled myself, stopped the car, and pulled out my map of Philadelphia (courtesy of my AAA membership – thanks grandma!). A few minutes later, I was on the campus.

And now, it’s late, I’m tired, and I need to go to bed.

Adieu.

Jacques Would Be Proud

As I prepare to go to a conference entitled "What Would Jesus Deconstruct?," I've been reading up on Jacques Derrida and trying to understand the nature of deconstruction. Though much could be said about this philosophical notion, one of Derrida's chief concern was justice - particularly for the outsider, those on the margins, the Other.

Although deconstruction has been labeled many things - many of which it is not - one thing it calls for is hospitality. The call of deconstruction is the call of hospitality, of justice, of making room for the Other, of creating space for those who are not like ourselves without forcing them to conform to us.

Philosopher James K.A. Smith writes, "Justice, for Derrida, is hospitality: welcoming the other. Thus, he is most interested in those institutions which are called to be paradigmatic sites of welcome but which, in their current configurations... have become systems of closure, shutting down hospitality by shutting out the other. Thus [Derrida] has shown a particular interest in questions of immigration and international law, heightened no doubt by disturbing tendencies in France... which have given rise to new justifications of xenophobia and shutting down borders in order to protect against the threat of... 'French identity.' (Jacques Derrida Live Theory, 68).

How timely this is for us in America as Congress currently wrestles with immigration policy, the Bush adminsitration fluctuates its stance, and the destiny of millions of resident aliens is in flux. If Derrida were here today, he would have called for what he did in 1996. Then, he spoke for the International Parliament of Writers - an organization that provides aid to authors being silenced by their home nations - as they focused on developing "Cities of Asylum," places writers could find freedom from the oppression of their home nations. Here, the IPW and Derrida were drawing from the Old Testament notion of "cities of refuge" (Numb 35:9-32) [Cf. Life Theory, 68-69).

Derrida is not here, but thankfully, someone is picking up the baton. Mayor Robert Patten (a Republican, mind you) of Highstown, NJ has made Highstown a "sanctuary city" for illegal immigrants. The Washington Post article states, "Joining a growing list of cities enacting a no-questions-asked policy on immigration status, Hightstown now allows its undocumented residents to officially interact with local police and access city services without fear of being reported to federal authorities." Patten speaks for himself in the article stating:

"Most of us know this town would have a heck of a time trying to run itself these days without the immigrants. They're working at the grocery stores, the fast-food places, they're opening businesses and keeping this town alive and young. We're just being practical by telling them, 'Look, we want you in our community, and we want you to feel like you belong.' "

Patten makes a point that raises a thought-provoking question: if these illegal immigrants practically run the big businesses that lobby so hard in Washington, why hasn't anything been changed? Where are the CEOs that look into the cameras and say they care so much for their employees?

Some may argue, "But these immigrants have broken the law! They ought to be sent back to Mexico where they all belong!" To this, I respond: Could it be that it is not the people that need changing but the law? Could it be that we as a nation, at the risk of preserving our "American identity" [which is, uh... what??] have strayed mightily far from the words coined by Emma Lazarus that preach from the foundation of our Statue of Liberty:

Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

To those who want to send them home [and thus destroy our economy while they're at it], I suggest they answer to one other figure: the original master of deconstruction himself. The one who often suspended the law in the name of justice himself - picking grain on the Sabbath, preventing an adulterer from being punished, fellowshipping with outcasts, touching the unclean, and readily permiting a human sacrifice - might have a thing or two to say about the immigrants, the Other, the least of these, the last who will be first.

Which begs the question: why has it taken a philospher who would rightly pass for an atheist and a mayor of a little town of about 6,000 people to bring to pass what Christians should have been doing all along?

I fear we have sunk so deeply into the entrapments of our narcissistic culture that we have kept the cold cup of water for ourselves.

Thoughts on Good Friday

“Father, forgive them for they know not what they are doing.” [Luke 23:34]

Jesus’ first saying from the cross raises many questions:
Why did Jesus, who forgave the sins of a paralytic, appeal to the Father?
Was Jesus, as human and frail, too weak to forgive sins from the cross?
Or was this sin of such cosmic proportions that only One in heaven could grant pardon?
And how could God forgive someone who had yet to repent?

For these questions, we cannot answer. But this we know:
(1) On the cross, Jesus practiced what he preached. The One who commanded his disciples to love enemies and pray for persecutors, provided an example amidst great injustice.

(2) By this prayer, Jesus fulfilled Old Testament prophesy. Isaiah 53:12 states, “He bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.”

(3) In this scene, Jesus provides the ultimate picture of peacemaking. To those unlovable in Jewish society – thieves and Roman soldiers – Christ offered his communion.

(4) And here, Jesus embodied the Law. The Scriptures distinguish two types of sin. For “sins done in ignorance” or unintentionally, a sacrifice provided forgiveness. But for sins done deliberately and defiantly, the sinner was to be cut off and “no sacrifice for sins was left.”

By this word, then, Jesus offered many prayers:
He prayed for his disciples, that they would learn to lay down their lives for one another.
For the Jews, that they would see he was the Messiah.
For the soldiers that they, though steeped in racial hostilities between Jew and Gentile, might experience true reconciliation.
For God, that he would keep his covenant and grant sinners a second chance.


"Abba, the priests are trying to correct blasphemy; the soldiers, just doing their jobs.
Daddy, they don’t realize they’re killing the Son of God.
Papa, take my sacrifice as the ultimate Day of Atoning!
Father, forgive them for they know not what they are doing.”

Everything is Spiritual

Sometimes - oftentimes - we get so wrapped up in looking for God in the lightning bolts, medical miracles, political powerplays, and worldchanging events that we often forget that God more often than not prefers to speak to us in the "still small voice." Like Jesus who often told those he healed to be silent as to who he was, we may find that God often reveals himself by round-about means and through the most unexpectable circumstances.

“What if we could rediscover ourselves again face-to-face with the infinite in the infinitesimal? Touch the sacred enfolded in the seeds of ordinary things? Such a return would invite us to experience the ultimate in the mundane. The first in the last. The most in the least… Transcendence in a thornbush. The Eucharist in a morsel of madeleine. The Kingdom in a cup of cold water… In our rush to the altars of Omnipotence we often neglected theophanies of the simple and familiar… For it is often in the most quotidian, broken, inconsequential, and minute of events that the divine signals to us.”

- Richard Kearney, “Epiphanies of the Everyday,” After God and the Religious Turn in Continental Philosophy (New York: Fordham University Press, 2006), 3-4

Book Review: The Weakness of God by John D. Caputo

The Weakness of God: A Theology of the Event (Indiana University Press, 2006) is the most recent work by John Caputo, the well-known postmodern philosopher and scholar of the French Deconstructionist, Jacques Derrida. It is a book not for the faint of heart, and yet it is a well-crafted work that seeks interplay between philosophical and theological concepts that usually aren’t given much attention in a genre more known for asking questions like, “Could God create a rock so big he couldn’t move it?”

Caputo’s main argument is that the Christian religion is one prefaced on weakness and that all our attempts at describing God as a metaphysical light and power show we might find on a Hollywood digital effects screen is more of a Nietzschean “will to power” than accurate theology. More specifically, our descriptions of God as sovereign and omnipotent really stem from our own fanciful desires for dictatorial power, my-god-is-bigger-than-your-god mentality, and continued commitment to the world’s economy based on hierarchy and pay-back. By looking at God as an event, or rather, unleashing the event which is housed in his name (a concept I can’t begin to explain), we find a “second order act” (9), or a theology for the weak, the powerless, the full of doubt, those looking to be wooed and called by God rather than forced as a mere pawn.

There are many things I like about this book, and though at times I sense Caputo goes to extremes (and often falls into a modernistic form of liberalism), he offers a fresh reading on texts we often glaze over. What Caputo understands well is at the heart of the message of Jesus is exactly what his disciples never would have expected. They were looking for a Messiah to overthrow the Roman government and return Israel back to the glory days of Solomon and David. Instead, they got a child born in “straw poverty” (as Bono likes to put it) who told his followers to turn the other cheek, forgive until they were blue in the face, love their enemies, and be sure to invite the most oppressed and disenfranchised to all their parties. Truly, the kingdom of the heavens is a kingdom of reversals where the first are last, the greatest are the servants, the exemplary disciples are little children, and justice is brought to the least of these. As Caputo states about this “sacred anarchy”:

“The kingdom of God obeys the law of reversals in virtue of which whatever is first is last, whatever is out is in, whatever is lost is saved, where even death has a certain power over the living, all of which confounds the dynamics of strong forces…The kingdom of God is the rule of weak forces like patience and forgiveness, which, instead of forcibly exacting payments for an offense, release and let go. The kingdom is found whenever war and aggression are met with an offer of peace… The kingdom reigns wherever the least and most undesirable are favored while the best and most powerful are put on the defensive” (14-15).

This is precisely the message of Jesus that puzzled so many who heard him – and continues to do so today. In a world in which we are constantly compelled to “one-up” the person next to us, climb the ladder so that we can stare down at all those below, and like the disciples, always ask “Who is the greatest?,” Jesus words come as a shock. This is a message Caputo describes well and needs to be proclaimed more often.

Caputo goes to great lengths to defend his theology of weakness by calling into question creatio ex nihilo, that most metaphysical heyday in which God best displayed his sheer power and brute strength by creating the world out of nothing. Leaning largely on Catherine Kellor’s Face of the Deep, Caputo exegetes the Genesis creation account essentially to point out that the wild land (tohu wa-bohu) and the see (tehom) were already in existence before God’s first spoken word (1:2-3). In short, then, God is more of an artist than a all-powerful creator, one who takes clay and molds and fashions and forms and transforms (metanoia). Caputo states:

“In the beginning, they are there, wind and waters and land, barren and lifeless, the wind sweeping over the deep, everywhere darkness…Then Elohim was moved to speak to them, and by addressing them to bring them to life, to awaken life in them…He calls them into life; he does not bring them into being, for the whole point is that they were there all along… Genesis is not about being, but about life.” (58)

I am intrigued by Caputo’s argument and agree that the Genesis account of creation has far more to offer than (what some believe) a proof that Darwin is wrong (considering Genesis was written several thousand years before Darwin came along, I hardly believe evolution was the author’s primary concern). However, Caputo’s argument isn’t enough for me to simply punt on my belief in the sovereignty of God (although it may need to be redefined). It is here Caputo makes a huge leap in thought, concluding, that by pulling the rug out of those who hold to creatio ex nihilo he has single-handedly brought down the entire construct of viewing God as “a strong force, a power of this world” (90). This not only has a kind of foundationalist feel, but Caputo also fails to take into account the vast amount of other passages of scripture that speak of God as powerful, sovereign, and as ruler. Even if we accept his rendering of Genesis 1 and that the Jews didn’t believe in creatio ex nihilo (since this metaphysical idea didn’t come around until the second century CE), any God who can call human beings and all that exists in the world “into life” certainly still has quite an astonishing ability.

Caputo’s theological lens becomes clear when articulates disbelief in Jesus’ miraculous raising of Lazarus from the dead, for it would have been too powerful of an act for his weakness theology (cf. chapter 11). This is not to get into an argument as to whether all the miracles of the Bible actually did occur (and even if they did, the time periods in which they did are in such small proportion to the rest of redemptive history). It just seems easier to believe the narrative as it is written than to conjure up the “real story” and try to reinterpret all the texts of scripture that don’t seem to fit into the theological framework one would like to create. Again, here Caputo smacks of modernism by forcing his theology of weakness upon the text and makes them fit (and at times, he simply throws out passages he doesn’t like).

Though Caputo addresses many other issues and topics (his exegesis of 1 Corinthians 1, which is central to his theology of weakness, is well worth the read), it all comes to a head with the problem of suffering and evil. Although this long-time question of philosophical theology is not the heading of any chapter in the book, it becomes quickly obvious that the main reason Caputo is arguing for a theology of weakness is to attempt an explanation of the problem of evil. Here, I will let Caputo speak for himself:

“Omnipotence leaves God holding the bag and forces us to offer lame excuses for God to the effect that evil is a little nothing that has leaked into being and that God is only responsible for the being, not the leak, while we, wicked things that we are, are almost all leak, so that a flood is a fitting way to end it all.” (76).

“If you think of God in terms of power, you will be regularly, systematically confounded by … the unevenness of God’s record on behalf of the poor and the oppressed… it is in the end an outright blasphemy to say that God has some mysterious divine purpose when an innocent child is abducted, raped, and murdered...” (90-91).

“God does not steer hurricanes away from the mainland and out to sea, anymore than God has a favorite in the Super Bowl, the NCAA Final Four, or the World Soccer Cup tournaments. God is not a powerful but invisible hand who magically bends natural or historical forces to divine purposes so that in the end things turn out just the way God has planned…” (178-179).

“For the believer, Auschwitz – every Auschwitz… – is an inexplicable and unjustifiable violence against life, against Elohim’s creation… And if sometimes some good somewhere comes out of it, it would be an obscenity to suggest that that is either an explanation or a justification.” (181)

Caputo’s point is well-taken. Amidst the “irreparable losses” (243) of Auschwitz, the Cambodian Killing Fields, Rwanda, Darfur, and every other atrocity in history, it seems trivial and downright blasphemous to hear the president of an NFL team say it was God’s will and blessing that they win the Super Bowl. Really, is God so concerned with his name being glorified on a football field that he fails to notice the 6600 dying of AIDS each day in Africa?

To try to rationalize the senseless death of millions is to be greatly insensitive to those who suffer. However, I’m not sure Caputo’s view is any more consoling. And even more, it is this one issue that seems to steer Caputo’s entire theology, as if because he cannot figure God out and because the circumstances are so deplorable, he must arrive at certain conclusions about God (a kind of a tail wagging the dog scenario, it seems).

For sure, the “strong theologies” of Augustine, Calvin, and Jonathan Edwards do not provide adequate or satisfying answers to the problem of evil, but I’m not sure by veering over to the other extreme will leave us in a better position. Here again, I sense a bit of modernistic either/or, black/white in Caputo. God cannot be strong, so he must be weak to him. Why can’t he be both? This, of course, is what we find in scripture. Jesus is both the Lamb and the Lion. He is the most humble being in the world and yet also holds the world up by his hands. He is the eternal who took on temporal flesh (which is what most confounded the Apostle John).

All in all, Caputo’s work is a worthwhile read. Again, though I sense an unswerving allegiance to modern liberalism (as well as to the genius of Jacques Derrida), the issues Caputo raises are worthy of contemplating and his arguments challenging. Caputo calls into question the status quo interpretations of the scriptures, providing a fresh read that lays bare many of our philosophical presuppositions we often unconsciously bring to the table of biblical interpretation.