Love is God?

Campion College yesterday hosted its monthly Campion Cafe Conversations, which asked the question "Is Romantic Love the New Religion?" The conversation featured Christopher Hartney from the Department of Studies in Religion in the University of Sydney, and the Divine Wedgie's blogger at large, Matthew Tan. 

Hartney spoke of an insidious cult of the romantic, which was driving romantic love itself into greater degrees of blandness. Meanwhile, Tan cautioned the audience against being too hasty with awarding romantic love with the title of the new religion, though he said we should not be surprised that overlaps existed between the religious and the romantic. Romantic love has long provided many drivers for human existence present in many religions. On the other hand, revealed religion has often been articulated using the language of romantic love. Moreover, Tan argued that Christian theology affirmed romantic love precisely because it was a faint echo of the love of the Trinity. The danger thereby lay in jettisoning the Trinitarian archetype and making what should be an analogy, namely romantic love, as a self-sufficient ultimate reality. Not only does it amount to turning romantic love into an idol that turns those in love into victims. It also leads to a thinning out of love from a virtuous action to an ephemeral feeling of an hermetically sealed self.

The conversation intersected rather neatly with an article in Psychology Today by the University of Haifa's Aaron Ben Ze'ev, who encapsulated the conversation with his usage of the term "Ideology of Love". If the romantic were to be turned into an ideology to which everything is subordinate, it ended up ruining love itself, which is manifest most frequently in the emphasis on "faithfulness to one's heart" rather than faithfulness to the object of one's affections. As Tan said in the conclusion of his presentation, whilst romantic love still has competitors for the title of supreme religion, it nonetheless was showing the features of a thing of ultimate concern, and the extent to which it does is the extent to which it becomes a god demanding human sacrifice.

Body and Will in Postmodernity

In medieval philosophy, "realism" is the idea that external realities defy the manipulations of our mind. In light of this limit, the will of the individual is often enjoined to harmonise itself with these external realities. The body is one such reality whose limits ought to be respected by the will, even if at the same time there was an unavoidably social dimension to that body that gave it a profound symbolic meaning.

Something changed in the postmodern period, however, as the French social theorist Herve Juvin noted in his The Coming of the Body. Rapid advances in technology have changed the relationship between the relationship between the will and the body, and actually distanced the will from the body. The limits of the body are now not seen as natural realities to which the will must harmonise itself. Instead, the expanded abilities and increased dominion brought about by rapid technological advances, especially in the medical sciences, have led to the limits of external realities of the body to be treated as a barrier over which the will must exert its supremacy. 

No surprise then, that even as medical science has brought about real goods in situations where maladies of the body are repaired, it has also spawned industries that allow the modification of the body in accordance with the will of the consumer, even if no repair to a damaged body is needed. Witness for instance, the minor celebrity and self-professed "professional freak", Erik "the Lizardman" Sprague, who through surgical modification was able to make his body assume the form of his choosing, namely a lizard. 

The body in postmodernity, notes Juvin, is one that can be given any meaning the will imposes. On the other hand, what Juvin seems to miss is that as the body becomes the plaything of the will, it is simultaneously stripped of any inherent symbolic meaning. And as the body becomes more subject to the whims of the individual will, it is also stricken from the communities that give it meaning. Paradoxically, the more we try to make the body's meaning subject to our individual imaginations, the more meaningless and alone the body becomes. 

As was highlighted in a course on Moral and Sexual Integrity at Campion College this week, the fission of the body and will in postmodernity is as much a theological as well as a cultural problem. For, to paraphrase the book of Genesis, it is not good for the body to be alone (Gen 2:18). In addition, the ability of the body to act as an image (Gen 1:28) becomes lost the more the body is treated as a mere lump of clay in the hands of a purely human potter. Redeeming a body that has become essentially a commercialised plaything, as was mentioned in a podcast on the Sydney radio station Cradio, would require a reinsertion of that body back into a communal setting, with its template set by the body's coabiding in the Body of Christ (John 15:4). As the moral teachings of the Body of Christ (that is the church) make clear, the coabiding with Christ will sets limits on the will. Such limits form the "narrow gate" by which harmony can be restored between the will and the body.

A Digital Body of Christ?

The Australian Catholic Bishops Conference Communications Office this week published its contribution to mark the 47th World Day of Communications, an ebook entitled Word Made Flesh and "Shared" Among Us.

The volume consists of 30 short essays by a number of practitioners within the Catholic Church, including bishops, journalists, academics, campus ministers, radio station managers and health workers. 

The common tie between these contributors is their immersion as part of their work in the world of New Media, whether it is through facebooking, Tweeting, blogging or online radio. Campion College and The Divine Wedgie feature in this publication, with its blogger-at-large making his own reflections on the topic under the title "A Digital Body of Christ?".

The ebook is available free of charge on EPUB and as a PDF document. It is also available on Kindle format for $1.99.

Upcoming Event: Religious Vilification & Augustine's Politics of Psalmody (29th May)

Campion College's political theology project, the Seminars in Political and Religious Life series, resume with its first semester installment for 2013.

This first seminar for the year will be held at Campion College on 29th May at 5pm. It will feature Dr. Benjamin Myers of the United Theological College (readers might be familiar with his Faith & Theology blog) and Dr. Steve Chavura, who has lectured in sociology and political philosophy in universities across Sydney. 

Chavura will speak on how the project of multiculturalism and argues that the success of the multicultural project requires a treatment of speech against religions or religious groups (often labelled as "religious vilification") which is distinct from vilification on the basis of other traits. The proceedings will take a decisively Augustinian turn with Myer's presentation, looking at how psalmody formed the basis of Augustine's political philosophy, which is encapsulated in his City of God.

Abstracts for the presentations are attached below:

Steve Chavura, "Multiculturalism & Freedom of Expression"

Since 9/11 anti-Islamic sentiments have raised the issue of appropriate limitations on freedom of expression. Cultural egalitarians support state action against such speech on the grounds that it is an affront to the goals of the liberal democratic state, which looks towards social inclusion and civic participation for all, regardless of religion or cultural background. The argument is that anti-Islamic rhetoric creates a social condition more conducive to discrimination and also makes the public sphere seem hostile to members of minority cultures who otherwise would participate. This paper argues that speech directed against religions and religious groups should not be treated in the same way as racist speech. Indeed, part of what actually gives value to this speech is the multicultural project itself, which seeks to remodel society in line with controversial religious comprehensive views. So-called religious vilification may be the price that must be paid while multicultural projects are underway.

Benjamin Myers, "'Sing From Where your Hearts Are': Augustine's City of God & the Politics of Psalmody"

Augustine's great work of political philosophy, the City of God, derives its title, as well as some of its fundamental concepts, from the Psalms. The work begins with a string of quotations from the Psalms, and some of the main transitions in its argument are marked by verses from the Psalms. The idea of the two cities first appears in Augustine's sermons on the Psalms. Augustine contrasts the two cities of Babylon and Jerusalem, and argues that "two loves create the two cities." The love that binds together the city of God is sustained by the practice of psalmody. In psalmody, we "sing from where [our] hearts are"; such singing "arouses [our] longing to return to that most fair city, to that vision of peace." It is in the context of these rather homely meditations on psalm-singing that Augustine first sketches out the basic concepts that would later be elaborated in the City of God. This is the story that I will tell in this paper – the story of how Augustine's reflections on the practice of psalmody laid the foundations for one of the most powerful and far-reaching political visions in the history of the West.

 

Christianity, Eastertide and Liminality

The word "liminal" comes from the Latin word for "threshold". Liminality denotes a time of seeming ambiguity during a period of transition from one situation to another. The word has gained a degree of importance in a number of disciplines. In anthropology, for instance, the French folklorist Arnold van Gennep used the term to speak of a time slice during particular cultural rituals when one's identity, communal belonging or direction and purpose in life become somewhat suspended, even though the purpose of the ritual is to facilitate a radical transformation from one state to another. 

This notion of ambiguity as a seriously-engaged cultural reality is important to consider, since it is reflected quite powerfully in various works of Christian art. One of the most striking is The Man of Sorrows by Lorenzo Monaco (1405). The image is one of the post-crucified Christ. His hands and side evince the holes of the nails and lance. The skin is of a colour that is far from vibrant. His head is sagging and there is even the slightest evidence of a broken neck. The Jesus depicted in this image is quite dead. The man of sorrows depicted here is "sorrowful even unto death" (Matt 26:38). In gazing at the dead Christ, however, one small detail may escape the viewer that would qualify the deathly status of this Christ. For while the signs of death are quite apparent, Monaco's Christ is also standing. This means that the folding of Christ's arms over his body are due to the locomotive power of Christ's living body. The Christ depicted in this image then, is not one of conclusive, all-encompassing death, but one that is at the liminal stage as Christ processes from death to life. This is why Monaco's image of the Man of Sorrows is sometimes referred to as The Resurrection.

Christians can gain much from a reflection on Christ's liminality. This is especially so for those Christians who, now in the 3rd week of Eastertide, feel anything but the fullness of a visceral experience of sharing in Christ's resurrection. When the sharing of the resurrection seems so far away even during the Feast of the Resurrection of the Lord, there may be the temptation to conclude that either the resurrection will never be a personal reality, or that God is resurrecting oneself only to a degree, only to prepare him or her for the next round of personal crucifixion.

Whilst much of the Christian's life may feel like a perpetual state of liminality, Monaco's painting reminds us powerfully of Paul's assurance to the Christians of Rome. The experience of ambiguity is not permanent. It is but a phase and a prelude to a process of restoring all aspects of our life, even our bodily and material existence (Rom 8:11). The cry for help to the Lord by Isaiah "restore me to health and make me live", is not a futile request that disappears in to a spiritual echo-chamber. Christ's resurrection assures us that, building up below our immediate experience of continued anguish or ambiguity, is a wave of life that will one day flood one's valley of the shadow of death, restoring all aspects of life that for now seem at best dormant, and even glorifying those aspects, and in so doing have them share in Christ's glorification manifested in his Ascension. In the meantime, part of our discipleship consists in living in this state of liminality, and waiting for the fulfilment of God's promise of hearing our prayers and responding to them, trusting that our ability to endure this state of liminality and not giving into despair is in and of itself the beginning of God's intervention.

The tension of the Christian life is not just caused by a living at the threshold between an earthly and heavenly realm. Within earthly existence itself, Christian discipleship will always be a life of standing at a threshold, straddling between the death of the old self, and the new and transformed life in a resurrected and glorified Christ.

Book Launch: On the Purpose of a University Education

Yesterday in Sydney, the Australian author, journalist and Member of Parliament Peter Coleman launched Campion College's first major publishing effort (jointly with Australian Scholarly Publishing), On the Purpose of a University Education.  

The book comprises essays from a symposium held at Campion College, and include the contributions of Stephen McInerney, Constant Mews, Greg Melleuish, Arran Gare, Geoff Sherington and Hannah Forsyth, and is edited by Luciano Boschiero. The synopsis of the book reads:

Amid unprecedented growth, casualised lecturers, and administrators concerned with profit, we must pause to ask: What should be the university’s goal in offering a degree and the student’s aim when obtaining one? In short, what is the purpose of a university education?

The answers lie at the historical and philosophical heart of Western education, the Liberal Arts—the theoretical sciences and humanities aimed at the attainment of wisdom and a critical mind. With their roots in Classical Greece and their shaping of Europe’s and Australia’s first universities, we cannot afford to ignore the importance of the Liberal Arts to the purpose of a university and its contribution to culture and society

It is hoped that the book, along with Campion's new blog, Core Conversations, will be able to make a contribution to the public discourse on where universities in the west are going, and the difference an education grounded in the Liberal Arts can make.

"God of War", the Democratisation of Rage & the Power of Easter

The gaming world recently welcomed the latest instalment of the God of War franchise with Ascension on Playstation 3, which functions as a prequel to the popular game series.

The franchise has received criticism on a number of fronts. Apart from critiques of its repetitive gameplay and gratuitous violence, the game has also been slammed for the seeming one-dimensionality of the protagonist, Kratos. Such criticisms say that Kratos is portrayed simultaneously as an angry god with a complex and tragic human past, with the complexity of that past only stoking nothing more than Kratos' anger, which he takes out on a whole pantheon of gods, titans and their minions. Both of these elements are hinted at in Ascension's launch teaser)

Yet, it is this very concentration on Kratos' rage that is acting as the drawcard of players the world over. One reason is indicated in a telling comment by a player on a webforum, who stated quite matter-of-factly that Kratos' meting out of his rage on the gods acts as an affirmation of human dignity over and against the gods. Playing the game, therefore, becomes not only the player's participation in Kratos' rage. In participating in Kratos' practical demonstration that man is not made in the god's image, the player is also analogically affirming his or her own dignity as a human being. 

This comment is telling, for it is symptomatic of a diagnosis of civic bodies in modernity, made by Michel Foucault in his essays on "governmentality", or the techniques of rendering a populace governable by the sovereign. As the civic bodies mature, Foucault suggests, governmental functions can actually seep out of their institutional centres and into the fibres of society via a series of very small, almost unnoticeable micropolitical acts on the individual's body. Far from weakening the power of the administrative centre, this democratisation of governmental functions actually serves to strengthen it, since such a process of consolidation is coupled with a  peddling of the illusion of individual self-determination, freedom and dignity.

The God of War series can be said to play into this foucauldian process of governmentality because one function of statecraft that has become distributed amongst the populace is, as the sociologist Max Weber once wrote, the state's former monopoly on the unleashing of violence. One may object that a distinction may be drawn from the virtual nature of the violence of Kratos and the real embodied violence of statecraft. This distinction, however, becomes blurred in postmodernity because, as Gilles Deleuze suggested to his readers, what underpins both real and virtual forms of violence is desire, more specifically the desire for justice or revenge, which expresses itself in a vengeful or righteous anger. In other words, the God of War series plays into systems of governmentality because Kratos is the avatar through which the desires that in turn underpin governmental functions are channeled, harnessed and mapped out onto the individual. In foucauldian terms, the game platform is the micropolitical counter over which state control of rage is passed from the institution to the individual.

While many might be quick to use this post to affirm suspicions of the ill-effects of videogames on impressionable minds, it is important to note also that gaming is only one symptom of a much larger governmental problem, that affects every sphere of human action and every person within those spheres, including those who might view themselves as too mature be subject to manipulation by institutional forces. The politician, administrator, shopper, office worker, parent, teacher and student are all similarly subject to the democratisation of government functions in their embodied lives, which will encompass the desire for revenge. And as the functions of governance finds more and more outlets within the social sphere, so too does rage snake around that same sphere, multiplying the sites by which it can unleash itself and solidifying its hold in every nuance of sociopolitical life.

The good news for the Christian is that there exists a channel to break the seeming stranglehold of the economy of rage. The gate that leads to this channel is none other than the crucified Christ, the second person of the One that says in response to His creations desire for revenge, however righetous it may be, "vengeance is Mine, I will repay" (Deut 32:35; Rom 12:19). Indeed, it is significant that the release of God of War Ascension roughly coincides with the final stages of Lent, which lead to the commemoration of the death and resurrection of Jesus.

As Daniel M. Bell puts it in his Liberation Theology After the End of History, the crucified Christ interrupts the economy of rage at two levels. At a visceral level, Christ becomes the recipient of not both the desire for revenge, in terms of the unjust rage of the world as well as the righteous anger of God. Christ takes both onto His person and bears its consequences by being executed and sacrificed on the Cross. At the same time, in remaining on that Cross, Christ breaks the circuit of vengeance by refusing to take vengeance Himself. 

But the most significant answer to Good Friday's refusal to avenge is the empty tomb of Easter. Easter is a reminder that, as awful as the refusal to avenge and the refusal to end suffering might appear, its effects are not to have the last say. Christ does not just break the foucauldian economy of rage but transforms it from within. To paraphrase St. John Chrysostom's Easter Homily, Christ destroyed rage when he endured it, and "destroyed hell when He descended into it".

Good Friday & the Prevailing Order (Repost)

A line in the Evening Liturgy of the Hours for Tuesday of Holy Week reminds us of an often overlooked aspect of the effect of what is taking place on Good Friday:

He has chosen things low and contemptible, mere nothings, to overthrow the existing order (1 Cor 1:28)

Much has been said of the redemption of Christ from sin as if the order that was overthrown was only confined to some bodiless, spiritual realm. But if God really became flesh and truly suffered and died, the redemptive effect of his work would also implicate what John Paul II called the "structures of sin", the institutions that concretise sin, and the logic they distribute into the very fibre of our bodily existence and make us walking and breathing fragments of those institutions, to paraphrase Pierre Bourdieu.

God has chosen the logic of "mere nothings" to combat, and indeed overthrow, the logic of the status quo, framed by atomism, the lust for power, and the obsession with limitless knowledge and with that the obsession with security. The passion of our Lord Jesus Christ would have meant that, to recall Isaiah's prophecies of the Suffering Servant, empire, trampling boots and bloodied garments will be burned and consumed by fire. The passion of this hinge of human history should give us pause to consider if we still cling to these old logics even while we, living the new life in Christ, claim to reject the institutions they crystallise.

Do we continue to let the threads of this prevailing order weave through our lives as members of the Body of Christ? So while we, for example, reject statism, do we continue to grasp after the kind of security from others in such a way that would make us clamour for greater state oversight? While we reject the selfishness of abortion, do we continue to bask in the consumer culture that fuels it?

The silence of the night of his death, and of Holy Saturday, may be an opportune time to reflect not only on whether we truly have allowed God to overthrow the existing order in all facets of our lives, our souls, our bodies, and our modes of thinking. Which have we chosen as the prevailing order to frame each of our thoughts, words and actions?

Tuesday evening's reading ends thus: In Him we are consecrated and set free (1 Cor 1:30). The passion, death and impending resurrection of the Lord of history has freed us from the presumptions that we have taken as historical truth, but he does not force us to be part of the new thing he is making.

 

A blessed Pasch to all.

Christianity & Paradox

Christians can be understandably enthusiastic about providing an apologetic for their faith when either questions are asked or challenges are posed to its central tenets. Sometimes, the same apologetic impulse could drive theological discussions within the Church. In either case, however, what is becoming increasingly apparent in the drive to protect the truths of Christianity is to equate truth with internal consistency. Assure internal logical consistency, many think, and one assures truth as well.

What many may miss, however, is the extent to which the drive for internal logical consistency springs forth from sources that are truly Christian. A telling clue can be gleaned from the often smug satisfaction from apologists when they declare the watertight logic of a Christian claim without many any reference to the Christian God. Such strategies risk reducing the sheer splendour of Divine revelation exclusively within the confines of human philosophy.

In After Writing, Catherine Pickstock reminded her readers that the drive for internal consistency is something that was not characteristic of the ancient church. Instead, Pickstock argues, the primacy given to internal consistency is something more akin to the Enlightenment. Truth in the ancient church, on the other hand, was grounded not so much in consistency as it was in its relation to the Triune God. To use Platonist terminology, the truth is more truthful, the more it participates in God, who is "the Way, the Truth, and the Life".

If we were to draw from the peculiarly Christian sources, such as the Scripture, we find that such a God and from that the Christian tradition, Henri de Lubac reminded us, is steeped in paradox. God is three yet one, God transcends creation and yet is in creation. Jesus, the second person of this Triune God, is the Lamb who is the "Lion of Judah" (Rev 5:5) , who ascends his throne as an executed criminal, and who in the words of the Orthodox prayer, "descended into the Tombs and from death gave us life". The Church, as the extension of the second person of the Triune God, is similarly a paradox - both human and divine, both a "gift from above and a product of this earth".

This is not to say that logical consistency is thereby cast out. John Paul II reminds us that Reason and Faith must always correlate to one another. Indeed, if truth becomes more truthful the more it is grounded in a God who is paradox, and in the life of a Church which is a living paradox, then what is needed is for logical consistency to sit in tension with paradox. Indeed, St. Bonaventure's suggestions for a "coincidence of opposites"are a clear reminder for us that what de Lubac calls a "paradox proper to the Church" can actually become the grounds for a firmer cohesion than what even the drive for purely logical consistency can achieve.

Francis...What's to a Name?

The Roman Catholic Church has elected Jorge Mario Bergoglio of Buenos Aires to be its 266th Vicar of Christ. At the announcement of his election, social networking sites around the world flared to life. There are expressions of immense joy that the Church has elected for the first time in centuries a Pope from the Global South. At the same time however, others have expressed blinding-hot rage that this particular citizen of the Global South is one that will not budge on particular matters that reform-fetishisers regard as indispensable to the continued survival of Catholicism.

Speculations are plentiful concerning the implications of elevating to the Papacy the much-rumoured runner up to the 2005 Conclave that elected Joseph Ratzinger. Speculations also abound as to the significance of his chosen pontifical name, Francis. Whilst the change of name follows the tradition of the Apostle Simon son of John to Peter, the name itself is also often indicative of the biography of the Pontiff specifically, as well as indicative of his desires in terms of the future direction of the Church more generally.

Many suspect that this otherwise Jesuit pope has taken the name of the famous founder of the Franciscan Order, on the basis of Bergoglio's very visible life of simplicity as Archbishop of Buenos Aires. Another factor would be his equally vocal and much-publicised proactive committment - some call preoccupation - to the poor of Buenos Aires, as well as denunciations of the inaction of the wealthy and powerful. While such speculations are well-founded, these analyses miss other reasons concerning the suitability of the Pontifical name to the biography of the Pontiff-elect.

For starters, the emphasis on the well worn stereotype of Francis-of-Assisi-as-Poor-Guy misses the point that Saint was also an ardent missionary who was unafraid to stare down powers and principalities in order to spread the Gospel. In 1219, during the 5th Crusade, Francis hoped to bring peace by bringing about the conversion of Malik al-Kamil, the Sultan of Egypt and nephew of Saladin. To do so, Francis moved across the battle lines and entered al-Kamil's camp in order to meet him face to face and spread the Gospel in the midst of the Sultan's hosts. In Bergoglio, one sees someone whose biography includes visible clashes with powers and principalities over not just an exclusively select set of issues that Catholics - whether they be devotees of liberation theology or neoconservativism - regard as indispensable to the living out of the Gospel. Bergoglio appears to have a history of very public engagement on a whole spectrum of issues that could be considered proper to Catholic concern. Indeed, Bergoglio has a track record of being able to get into public stoushes with political leaders over the redefinition of marriage to legitimise same-sex couples, about as easily as locking horns with business leaders on the crushing poverty hitting the slums of Buenos Aires.

The hopeful note that could be gleaned from the choice of Franciscan nomenclature is that the Saint, apart from embracing what he called "Lady Poverty", was also associated with a period of profound transformation. Within the Church, Francis and his followers brought about a spirit of renewal that remains the stuff of legend to this day. But as St. Bonaventure (discussed in a previous post) noted, the person of St. Francis acted as the gateway to the transformation of the whole cosmos. Whether such profound transformations can be effected by this latest successor to the See of Peter remains to be seen, but the indicators from his previous biography remain encouraging.