Let me admit from the very beginning that I am a rank amateur when it comes to politics, political science, and even political theology. Hence, I am genuinely interested in people's comments and opinions as to the content of this post.
As the US presidential election draws ever nearer, the media, popular discussion, websites and blogs (including this one, obviously!) become ever more saturated with coverage of the candidates, of opinions, of campaigning, etc., etc. (Incidentally, check out the polling map I've added on the sidebar!) As some of my comments over at my friend Erik's blog will reveal, I continue to ruminate on the role of politics from a theological viewpoint...not that there is just one way of thinking on this.
Succinctly, no one is campaigning on a "we're fine, let's keep everything the same" platform. Surely such an attitude would prevent one from getting out of the starting blocks in a would-be political career. We've got problems: as individuals, as communities, as ethnic groups, as states, as a nation, as societies, as a race. Some of these delineations are highlighted to a greater or lesser extent in the campaigns, presumably proportionally to how proposed solutions contribute to electability (or not). In very stereotypical and stark terms, the Democrats and the Republicans offer two different broad solutions: the Democrats claim that the government can best make things better; the Republicans claim that individuals/groups/businesses can.
Enter theology: God says he can...uniquely, and far better than any merely human endeavor.
As infinitely wiser and more knowledgeable and more powerful than humanity, God alone is the source of true Hope for our world...not merely in the age to come, but in the here-and-now. The Bible makes the audacious claim that the root of our problems lies ultimately in our rebellion against God: as individuals, as communities, etc., and that God is presently at work wooing back all of us rebels into relationship with him. As that relationship grows and deepens, God performs the incomprehensible: he transforms his people into the likeness of his only Son, Jesus. This transformation is in thought and deed, so that we might have the mind of Christ and enact and embody the Good News (Gospel) of God's holistic plan of salvation in our society today.
Holding as I do to a Gospel embodied in the Church, my default assumption would then be that the vehicle for "God making things better" in the here-and-now is the Church. Now, regardless of how you view "the Church", there are problems...huge problems. I'm aware. (Remember, I'm an Anglican!) But my immediate question is not so much in relation to those problems. Rather, I'm interested in how this Church--specifically its manifestation in the USA (or in "Western" society)--is meant to interact with the political process.
I have Christian friends who are dyed-in-the-wool Democrats; others who are staunch Republicans; others who consistently vote for third-party candidates. Still others seem to have eschewed the political process altogether. And here sit I, trying to reason through the Church's rightful role (if there be only one): do we seek to enact the Gospel primarily within and through the political system, or without it? Are we so daunted by the enormity of the problems we face, and so dismayed at the disunity in the Church, that we see only government as holding promise for addressing the issues? Do we see the Gospel as primarily for the individual, and less for the other strata of human society?
Much more to be said, but perhaps it's best to let others in on the conversation before proceeding. A couple of disclaimers I would make at the outset of any ensuing discussion: I am not an anarchist, nor am I in favor of whatever people might posit which would draw us closer to a theocracy.
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
24 June 2008
27 February 2008
A River Runs Through It, embodiment, and the consummation of all things
I have always liked the story of A River Runs Through It by Norman Maclean. I read the book a number of years ago, and have watched the film numerous times thereafter. The film would easily fall into my top ten most-liked films.
I suppose many people get a general sense, whether consciously or unconsciously, of whether they like or dislike films based on how well the philosophy put forth by the story coincides with the viewer’s. Unfortunately, I am not quick-thinking or well-read enough to be able to understand—much less verbalize—my reasoning pertaining to my estimation of a film immediately after watching it. This has the disadvantage of giving me no ready answer to the question of why I liked (or disliked) a film in the short-term, but it has the advantage of allowing me to discover previously undisclosed treasures about a film that I have watched (and perhaps re-watched) some time afterwards. Such is the ongoing case with A River Runs Through It.
Today, I was ruminating on the propensity I would think all humans have to desire—even seek out—(a) normative principle(s) behind the meaning of life, of existence. Even the proposal that no such principle(s) exist(s) is, in itself, a bold example of such a principle. When contemplating such things from a Christian standpoint, I have personally always been drawn to Ephesians 1:8b-10:
“With all wisdom and insight 9 [God] has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, 10 as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.”
Such promise lies within these words! All of creation is being and will be swept up into Christ. As humans, we have the extraordinary privilege of sharing in that promise—even now, in our present life—in a very special way through being incorporated into Christ, as the next verses portray:
“11 In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, 12 so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. 13 In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; 14 this is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption.”
Inasmuch as this is a plan for all of creation, so it relies heavily upon creation theology. Notably, the creation assertion that human beings are created in the image of God (Gen. 1:27, 5:1, 9:6; cf. 1 Cor. 11:7; Eph. 4:24; Jas. 3:9) plays a major role in our understanding of the mystery of being conformed to the image of his Son (Rom. 8:29; 2 Cor. 3:18), the firstborn of all creation (Col. 1:15).
But also, our doctrine of creation ex nihilo (out of nothing) and creation through Christ (John 1:3), suggests that even in the goodness of creation, the “plan for the fullness of time” was at work. And though it may be a bit of a doctrinal extrapolation, it seems within reason to think that the combination of our unified destiny as sharing in Christ with the wonderful diversity of creation would uphold, even stress—against a rather Gnostic assertion—the importance of the everyday matters of our lives.
We evangelicals (perhaps read: Protestants?) tend to downplay the significance of anything that doesn’t appeal to our sense of “gospel” importance. Being at seminary, my thoughts here turn primarily to the theological: the sacraments; the visible, institutionalized church; principles such as fellowship, dialogue, unity; some ethical considerations; even the practice of theological study itself, just to name a few, are often denigrated as inconsequential or arbitrary to the purely pragmatic undertaking of “preaching the gospel”. (e.g., cf. Melanchton: “It is necessary to distinguish from the episcopal polity, bound to place person and due succession, offices and human regulations—the ministry of the gospel instituted by God and continually restored by his great mercy which perpetually serves the Church and is not bound to certain places, persons and human laws but to the gospel (CR 5.627; cf. 559).” (emphasis mine)) As if the gospel is anything if not embodied!
Is it right to say that the gospel (which I understand best as the person and action of Jesus Christ, I’m not sure how Melanchthon defines it) transcends these things? Of course. We see but dimly (1 Cor. 13:12). But we still see (note St. Paul using the same verb for what we do now (see dimly) and what we will do then (see face to face)—in fact, in the Greek, the verb appears only once), and the extent to which we see is a shadow of the things to come, whose substance is Christ (cf. Col. 2:17). The historicity of the incarnation—that Jesus came as a real person to a real world in actual history—is of central importance. So, too, is our continued embodiment of the gospel, as we pray: “not only with our lips, but in our lives”. So, too, is the “plan for the fullness of time” relevant to the whole of creation—which waits with eager longing, by the way, for the revealing of the children of God, that it may obtain the freedom of our glory (Rom. 8:19-23).
In Revelation, we are given a brief, apocalyptic glimpse of what this final glory, this consummated plan, looks like. It looks, so far as it can be described, like a city, resplendent in the glory of the presence of the living God. And here, at long last, is where I have come to appreciate the film A River Runs Through It all the more. It’s closing line is: “Eventually, all things merge into one…and a river runs through it. I am haunted by waters.” But the apocalyptic thrust of Norman Maclean’s words, how the memories of loved ones passed on—their words, under the rocks in the bed of the stream—fills him with the sense of his loneliness and a dire longing for being reunited with them…that longing is precisely what is afforded to all who are swept up into Christ—we are united intimately with him and with each other, sharing in glory, for all eternity in the new Jerusalem.
And guess what? A river runs through it.
Revelation 22:1-2: Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb 2 through the middle of the street of the city.
I suppose many people get a general sense, whether consciously or unconsciously, of whether they like or dislike films based on how well the philosophy put forth by the story coincides with the viewer’s. Unfortunately, I am not quick-thinking or well-read enough to be able to understand—much less verbalize—my reasoning pertaining to my estimation of a film immediately after watching it. This has the disadvantage of giving me no ready answer to the question of why I liked (or disliked) a film in the short-term, but it has the advantage of allowing me to discover previously undisclosed treasures about a film that I have watched (and perhaps re-watched) some time afterwards. Such is the ongoing case with A River Runs Through It.
Today, I was ruminating on the propensity I would think all humans have to desire—even seek out—(a) normative principle(s) behind the meaning of life, of existence. Even the proposal that no such principle(s) exist(s) is, in itself, a bold example of such a principle. When contemplating such things from a Christian standpoint, I have personally always been drawn to Ephesians 1:8b-10:
“With all wisdom and insight 9 [God] has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, 10 as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.”
Such promise lies within these words! All of creation is being and will be swept up into Christ. As humans, we have the extraordinary privilege of sharing in that promise—even now, in our present life—in a very special way through being incorporated into Christ, as the next verses portray:
“11 In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, 12 so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. 13 In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; 14 this is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption.”
Inasmuch as this is a plan for all of creation, so it relies heavily upon creation theology. Notably, the creation assertion that human beings are created in the image of God (Gen. 1:27, 5:1, 9:6; cf. 1 Cor. 11:7; Eph. 4:24; Jas. 3:9) plays a major role in our understanding of the mystery of being conformed to the image of his Son (Rom. 8:29; 2 Cor. 3:18), the firstborn of all creation (Col. 1:15).
But also, our doctrine of creation ex nihilo (out of nothing) and creation through Christ (John 1:3), suggests that even in the goodness of creation, the “plan for the fullness of time” was at work. And though it may be a bit of a doctrinal extrapolation, it seems within reason to think that the combination of our unified destiny as sharing in Christ with the wonderful diversity of creation would uphold, even stress—against a rather Gnostic assertion—the importance of the everyday matters of our lives.
We evangelicals (perhaps read: Protestants?) tend to downplay the significance of anything that doesn’t appeal to our sense of “gospel” importance. Being at seminary, my thoughts here turn primarily to the theological: the sacraments; the visible, institutionalized church; principles such as fellowship, dialogue, unity; some ethical considerations; even the practice of theological study itself, just to name a few, are often denigrated as inconsequential or arbitrary to the purely pragmatic undertaking of “preaching the gospel”. (e.g., cf. Melanchton: “It is necessary to distinguish from the episcopal polity, bound to place person and due succession, offices and human regulations—the ministry of the gospel instituted by God and continually restored by his great mercy which perpetually serves the Church and is not bound to certain places, persons and human laws but to the gospel (CR 5.627; cf. 559).” (emphasis mine)) As if the gospel is anything if not embodied!
Is it right to say that the gospel (which I understand best as the person and action of Jesus Christ, I’m not sure how Melanchthon defines it) transcends these things? Of course. We see but dimly (1 Cor. 13:12). But we still see (note St. Paul using the same verb for what we do now (see dimly) and what we will do then (see face to face)—in fact, in the Greek, the verb appears only once), and the extent to which we see is a shadow of the things to come, whose substance is Christ (cf. Col. 2:17). The historicity of the incarnation—that Jesus came as a real person to a real world in actual history—is of central importance. So, too, is our continued embodiment of the gospel, as we pray: “not only with our lips, but in our lives”. So, too, is the “plan for the fullness of time” relevant to the whole of creation—which waits with eager longing, by the way, for the revealing of the children of God, that it may obtain the freedom of our glory (Rom. 8:19-23).
In Revelation, we are given a brief, apocalyptic glimpse of what this final glory, this consummated plan, looks like. It looks, so far as it can be described, like a city, resplendent in the glory of the presence of the living God. And here, at long last, is where I have come to appreciate the film A River Runs Through It all the more. It’s closing line is: “Eventually, all things merge into one…and a river runs through it. I am haunted by waters.” But the apocalyptic thrust of Norman Maclean’s words, how the memories of loved ones passed on—their words, under the rocks in the bed of the stream—fills him with the sense of his loneliness and a dire longing for being reunited with them…that longing is precisely what is afforded to all who are swept up into Christ—we are united intimately with him and with each other, sharing in glory, for all eternity in the new Jerusalem.
And guess what? A river runs through it.
Revelation 22:1-2: Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb 2 through the middle of the street of the city.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
