09 December 2009
Two New (old) Sins
So, last night, it was snowing heavily in the Twin Cities, traffic going home was nearly at a standstill, my wife and I were both tired at the end of a long work day, then we were compelled to go out into the weather again to Mass, as it was the feast of the Immaculate Conception (a day of obligation for Roman Catholics). We got home around 7:30, now hungry, as well as tired. In an attempt to lighten things up, I volunteered to venture out once more and get some "to-go" food as a treat. After some debate, I ended up going to a local fast food taco joint. Once there, I just kept adding and adding stuff to our order and when I got home, not only did we (mostly I) polish it all off, I added a significant amount of ice cream on top of it. I blew it.
Some of you may know that the human inhabitants of our household have been doing Weight Watchers for a few months. (The canine inhabitant is lean & muscular, and doesn't seem to worry too much about her figure, anyway.) So, yes, I blew my "point" limit for the day. But that's not so much what concerns me. Some years ago now, I began to understand that I don't just enjoy food (a healthy thing), I love it. I idolize it. Often, I don't control it, it controls me. That's what happened last night...and that's what I blew: I fell back into an old pattern of behavior that is blatantly sinful. Yes, sinful. Traditionally (in the Bible and in Christian history), it is called "gluttony," and it has the same base characteristics as other, more readily recognizable, sins: overindulgence, idolatry, self-serving autonomy, self-slavery (creating the proclivity for further sin), etc.
Gluttony isn't spoken of much these days in terms of sins we must confess, repent of, and be forgiven for. Given the characteristic overindulgence on food, especially non-nutritious food, in the US, overeating and resultant obesity is seen as the statistical norm, which, in Aristotelian thought, becomes the moral normative. While the Church has the obligation to continue to preach such sins as sins, and to graciously and generously offer forgiveness for them, it rarely does so. Perhaps its (worldly) reasoning for not doing so is something akin to: if you drive away the gluttons by preaching against gluttony, the Church would be empty. Perhaps food, like money, is one of those "taboo" topics for homilies.
Anyway, skip ahead to today. Upon entering the room where I eat my (this time, modest) lunch at the seminary, I happened upon a fellow student named Margaret, and we fell into discussing the topic of rest. It's "crunch time" of the term (papers due, etc.), so opportunities to rest can be at a premium. When Margaret hinted that she wasn't getting much rest, I (in good humor, but probably too sharply) referred to the concept of Sabbath: that we are designed to need rest, and when we don't rest, we pridefully deny our God-given human limitations. Since Margaret has a wonderful sense of humor, she graciously chuckled and asked if one can confess the sin of not resting.
As with gluttony, the understanding of working excessively--a telltale sign of godless self-sufficiency--as sin has morphed quite a bit over the millennia, as well. In Ten Commandments days, exile and even death was prescribed for those who neglected the Sabbath (Ex. 31:14-17). Nowadays, we actually boast about being "too busy," and we idolize productivity. Can one still confess such a sin as neglecting rest? "Not only can, but should," was my response to Margaret. Nevertheless, I wonder how many confessors hear the penitent confessing their overindulgence in work, their failure to rest. Not many, I'll bet. I'm not even sure many confessors would know how to handle such a confession.
Still, I can envision a Church that adheres to preaching the dangers, the sin, of gluttony and the neglect of rest--not primarily as judgment, but as part of the "old self" that needs to be shed, that the new self, the one being remade in the likeness of Jesus Christ, can grow and become fruitful. Such a move might be radical in these times, but that's the kind of radicalness the Church needs to exhibit: Rest more! Eat less! That's the kind of Church that glorifies God and finds her ultimate fulfillment not in work, not in food, but in Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
25 November 2009
The Liturgy of Black Friday
Gratitude, by which I mean a conscious, active rendering of thanks, moves us outside ourselves as it acknowledges our absolute dependence on others. It humbly celebrates being a recipient as it deconstructs our notions of autonomy and self-sufficiency. And, when our thanks are rightly directed to the author of life and giver of all good gifts, gratitude actualizes us as human beings—as finite, limited creatures who are relentlessly drawn by our loving God into a life greater than our own. Truly, the traditional liturgy of gathering around a table piled high with food and pausing to recount those things for which we are thankful, and to offer our thanks up to God, humanizes us.
The day after tomorrow has been dubbed “Black Friday.” Black Friday, as one local newspaper claimed, is itself “tradition,” and “the American way.” It is a day when many Americans, still sluggish from the previous day’s feasting, rise before the sun to patronize malls, discount stores, specialty shops, and the like in the spirit of holiday shopping. Stores have taken to opening in the wee hours of the morning and rewarding “early birds” with extra savings. Shoppers have responded by lining up outside said stores, feverishly awaiting admittance, and clamoring over one another in a frenzied pursuit of particular items—items which do not deserve the moniker “goods.” This frenzy, as we have tragically seen, has even resulted in human death.
The liturgy of Black Friday is, rightly considered, a dehumanizing liturgy. Albeit, many shoppers who flood the stores that day lay claim to a selfless motivation: they are out buying Christmas gifts for family and loved ones. However, the stated goal of buying gifts loses all its credibility if one’s attitude and actions on Black Friday are decidedly ungiving. The goal of Black Friday shopping, at its core, is still one of acquisition (in contrast to reception). This acquisition is accomplished by utilizing one’s own resources (money, time, strategy) and unabashedly competing with others, even to the point of violence—even fatal violence!—in order to obtain that which one desires. The liturgy of Black Friday moves us ever deeper into our own selves, stirring up our self-centered desires and appetites not merely without the consideration of others, but often in active opposition to others. An unfortunate few Black Friday shoppers tragically find themselves no better off than a 12-point buck caught in an open Wisconsin field. The vast majority, even if immediate ramifications are not as poignant, still suffer definitive, destructive effects.
Of course, it is deeply ironic that we can spend one day supposedly immersed in the practice of gratitude, acknowledging our own dependence and limitations, and spend the very next day immersed in the practice of consumption, relying on our independence and our ability to surpass our limitations. The humanizing rituals of Thanksgiving are sadly often lost in the dehumanizing practices of Black Friday. What is needed is for us to take a page from the liturgy of Thanksgiving: to pause before consumption, offer thanks, and let the spirit of gratitude inform, guide, and even restrict our consuming—all with a humble appreciation for, and deference to, others a la Philippians 2:3-4.
20 October 2009
08 September 2009
Indoctrination
The recent squabble about President Obama's speech for schoolchildren scheduled for today has been fraught with controversy. Right-wingers are up-in-arms, claiming that it's dangerous for Obama to be given such a platform to speak "his message" into the lives of the young and impressionable, claiming that they don't want their children "brainwashed" or "indoctrinated." Left-wingers have replied with astonishment, claiming that all the President wants to do is encourage our children to work hard in school, not "indoctrinate" them in some liberal viewpoint.
While this wildfire is obviously fueled by the out-of-control partisanship in our nation's politics, it has given me pause to reflect on the concept of "indoctrination."As long as I can remember, "indoctrination" has had negative connotations, usually alluding to something akin to brainwashing, which conjures up images of fascism and/or religious cults, but more readily applicable to mainstream ideologies, e. g. liberalism, conservatism, Evangelicalism, or Catholicism. And, of course, kids are always the ones held up as the potential victims of indoctrination. Parents don't want their kids indoctrinated.
What's at risk, apparently, is these kids' freedom to think and choose for themselves whether they might be more democratic or more republican, more Christian or more atheistic, etc. To my mind, however, this "freedom" is largely a ruse. Humans learn through interaction with other humans: both directly, as through conversation; and indirectly, as through reading and the media; either actively, as through explicit, evaluative assertions; or passively, as through omitted sentences, word craft, and propaganda. And at the level of the child, it seems to me that all of this interaction could be viewed as indoctrination, taken to mean the teaching of a particular ideology. Even the statement "I don't want my child indoctrinated" stems from a particular ideology whose doctrine is passed on through human interaction. Simply put, there is no human interaction ungoverned by ideology.
What is more valid for a parent, however, is the desire to monitor and filter those voices which reach one’s child. I would imagine most parents would want their children to hold a similar ideology to their own and are subsequently suspicious of the barrage of voices modern children encounter which may prove sufficient to topple a parent’s influence. There is some good in this, most especially because many such voices today are unfiltered (for example, this blog).
29 April 2009
Barth on Calling
- Karl Barth
(Church Dogmatics. Translated by Rev. G. W. Bromiley. Edited by Rev. Prof. G. W. Bromiley and Rev. Prof. T. F. Torrance. Vol. IV, pt. 3. Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1962, p. 494. Apologies for the non-inclusive language.)
31 January 2009
20 January 2009
Pannenberg on sex, marriage, family, and religion
- Pannenberg, Wolfhart. Anthropology in Theological Perspective. Translated by Matthew J. O'Connell. London: T & T Clark, 2004, 437.
17 January 2009
More good Pannenberg...
"The connection between act and consequence and therefore the liability of culprits for their actions precede the development of the idea of guilt and create the objective need for such a development. It is only this objective state of affairs that forbids our making no distinction between guilt consciousness generally and the various kinds of neurotic guilt feelings, and deciding that since the latter exist, all guilt consciousness is the manifestation of a disease from which human beings ought to be liberated through a more humane type of education and through instruction of the masses. For if in fact there is a necessary connection between actions and their consequences, so that in the interaction that makes up society the consequences either strike back at the agent or do harm to social life itself, then it shows a lack of realism to shut our eyes to it and to declare that we can do without the idea of guilt, at least in the sense of holding agents responsible for the consequences of their actions."
- Pannenberg, Wolfhart. Anthropology in Theological Perspective. Translated by Matthew J. O'Connell. London: T & T Clark, 2004, 291.
15 January 2009
Pannenberg rocks!
- Pannenberg, Wolfhart. Anthropology in Theological Perspective. Translated by Matthew J. O'Connell. London: T & T Clark, 2004, 70. (italics in original).
08 January 2009
Thought for the day (or longer)...
-Ratzinger, Joseph Cardinal. Church, Ecumenism, and Politics: New Endeavors in Ecclesiology. Translated by Michael J. Miller et al. San Franscisco: Ignatius Press, 2008, p. 15.