A tradition, by its very nature, reflects the most stable, “eternal” tendencies in faith’s development. Always preserved in a tradition are undying elements of the archaic. True, these archaic elements are preserved in it only thanks to their constant renewal, which is to say, their contemporization. A tradition is always the same and yet not the same, always old and new simultaneously. Tradition is reborn and renewed at every new stage in the development of faith and in every individual work of a given tradition. This constitutes the life of the tradition. Therefore, even the archaic elements preserved in a tradition are not dead but eternally alive; that is, archaic elements are capable of renewing themselves. A tradition lives in the present, but always remembers its past, its beginning. Tradition is a representative of creative memory in the process of the outworking of faith. Precisely for this reason, (healthy) tradition is capable of guaranteeing the unity and uninterrupted continuity of this development.

For the correct understanding of a tradition, therefore, it is necessary to return to its sources.

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In all instances I must first ask, “Is my speech idle? malicious? thoughtful? constructive?”

For instance, according to Wikipedia, in Jewish tradition, speech is considered to be gossip (or the sin of lashon hara) if it:

Says something negative about a person or party, is not previously known to the public, is not seriously intended to correct or improve a negative situation, and most importantly, is true.

From the above, I’m going to infer that there may be a form of “gossip” that has a positive role. That is if I am serious in my intent to correct or improve a negative situation, and am not disclosing private information without that persons consent, “gossip” may be a legitimate form of problem solving, even if it involves speaking negatively about (or more preferably, to) someone.

However, in my experience this is usually not the case.

I can also strongly infer that just because I am speaking what I take to be the truth, that doesn’t mean my “gossip” has been somehow protected against the danger of lapsing into idleness or maliciousness.

It’s important I always seek to remember what it means to “seriously intend to correct or improve a negative situation.”

It’s often the case that I take my own feeling of seriousness to be sufficient in forming my serious intent. But it is not.

To have a serious intent has less to do with my subjective emotional state than it does with my willingness to correct and be corrected in my speech and actions. Intent must have a goal, and if my actions or speech (or the actions or speech of those with whom I am speaking) have the effect of deflecting me from the path of that goal, I must be willing to be corrected (and to correct).

Now it may be true that not all idle gossip is necessarily malicious. It may even be witty, but to the extent it is neither thoughtful nor constructive, nor intended to correct or improve a negative situation, I should not engage in it, even and perhaps especially if it is true.

Malicious gossip must always be rebuked and always be repented of.

If the person who has engaged in malicious gossip repents, they are to be forgiven. But the attempt to go beyond rebuke and punish or even correct someone engaging in malicious gossip is almost always unproductive.

At best, I can hope to show the malicious gossiper he or she is engaging in damaging behavior. But other than demonstrating this to them as plainly and succinctly as possible, little else can be done unless the offending party is able to come to his or her own conclusions as to the nature of the offense.

It may be and often is the case that the person engaging in malicious gossip does not believe he or she intended to do so. So for instance, I may simply have adopted this pattern of behavior and engage in it unconsciously – as an attempt to be part of an in-group, or I may derive some other benefit, even an intellectual one. I may in fact think I am engaging in what I’ve provisionally referred to as “positive” gossip.

I may be legitimately trying to work things out.

And in fact it’s often hard to distinguish between “sorting out one’s feelings” with the help of someone else whom I wish to act as my sounding board, and engaging in idle or malicious gossip – but given the strong tendency of all gossip to devolve into either its malicious or idle forms, I should always be aware that my intentions alone may not be enough.

With the above in mind, the question I might then want to ask of myself is, “How do I go about engaging in ‘positive gossip?’”

First, I must above all else be intentional in my pursuit to correct or improve the situation.

This intent must come even above ensuring I speak only the truth (insofar as I am capable of judging the truth.)

Without this intent (or good will), there is no possible good that can be served by gossip. At best it is a form of idle entertainment, at worst it is malicious. In such cases, my best move is to keep my own counsel.

Second, insofar as I am capable, I am commanded to speak in, from, and with, agape.

The best guidelines I know of to ensure I am speaking with agape come from the wisdom tradition known as Christianity (e.g. 1 Corinthians 13:1-13, usually read at weddings).

Third, insofar as possible, I should always speak to rather than about another.

If that isn’t possible or desirable at the time, I should attempt to speak about the other only as I would speak if they were in the room – recognizing in some cases that may not be appropriate, for instance with small children or adults whose mental faculties are not such that they can understand fully the issues at hand. But in the case of mature adults, the default assumption should be to speak to rather than about, or at least to speak as if they will eventually hear what we say.

That does not mean I should avoid saying (or hearing) uncomfortable things, only that I should adhere to the standard of agape when I do so speak (or listen).

Lastly, I would do well to consider the words of both C.S. Lewis and Aristotle in all dealings with my fellow humans, especially those I claim to love…

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Whatever the case, I thoroughly enjoyed Betrayal, the second book from Robin Lee Hatcher’s Where the Heart Lives series.

As the story goes...

Recently widowed, Julia Grace is fighting to keep her ranch, the Sage-hen, and maintain her sense of home and belonging. Thwarted at every turn by her husband’s greedy half-brother Charlie Prescott, Julia counters his attacks with true pioneer spirit. But her biggest obstacle lies in how to get her cattle to market without any ranch hands.

Enter drifter Hugh Brennan – handsome, capable, and mysterious. On his way to find his sister, Felicia Kristofferson, in Idaho, he stops at Sage-hen hoping to rest his lame horse for a day or two. Instead he finds Julia Grace and unexpected love.

Again Ms. Hatcher used several voices to advance the narrative. It lends cohesiveness to the series and gives us a different perspective into each character’s life.

As expected the story moves toward the two falling in love, but what I really liked was that these characters have dimension. They aren’t perfect – in fact – they are colored with imperfections and doubts – even doubts about God. It is this particular detail I found most appealing.

Too many times Christian writers try to paint a rosy picture of life in Christ.

Simplified answers will solve all your problems: Pray. Get into the Word. Go to church. And on it goes. Authors wrap up hardships into neat little packages and feed them to us like pabulum.

Nice fairy-tale, but not reality.

Robin Lee Hatcher is ahead of the pack in giving us fiction we can relate to that still spins a good yarn and satisfies to the end.

In fact, several times her words spoke directly to me.

As I read, I often thought, “That is exactly how I feel!” Her propensity to vocalize the emotional state of her readers has an uncanny essence to it.

For what it’s worth, I give Betrayal a big thumbs up.

At the end of this book, she gives us a glimpse into the next volume of the series, Beloved. Looks as if the third sibling, Diana, may not have fared as well as the other two and possibly has an even darker side to her than Hugh. It should prove a fun read.

I believe it’s due to be published later this year. When I see it on the shelves, I may pick it up and give it a whirl.

Let you know if I do.

Let you know if I like it.

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I have long been an admirer of Robin Lee Hatcher, but had yet to read any of her romantic or historic novels.

Belonging tells the story of Felicia Kristofferson…

…a self-possessed young woman determined to make her way in the world.  When her foster family dies, leaving her without financial support, she heads for the greener pastures of Frenchman’s Bluff, Idaho to become the new schoolteacher.
She encounters opposition to her post in the form of the handsome Colin Murphy, a widower and owner of the local mercantile, and Helen Summerville, the self-appointed moral compass of the tiny hamlet.

Felicia loves her job and her pupils and finds unexpected friendship with Mrs. Summerville’s widowed daughter-in-law, Kathleen.  She also forms a strong bond with Charity Murphy, who just happens to be the daughter of Colin Murphy.  And as every reader of a good romance expects, Felicia begins to warm to Colin as well.

Told through the eyes of Felicia, Kathleen, and Colin, Robin Lee Hatcher pulls us through the story like a slow Southern drawl.

The writing works because…

Her characters are rich and well crafted – realistic enough we can believe they, or people like them, existed, and fantastical enough we trust Felicia and Colin will get together.  Ms. Hatcher remains a master at dialogue and weaves the precise amount of action in the bucolic setting to keep readers turning the page.

Though not my preferred genre, I found it a satisfying read.  It held my interest and had me cheering for the two lovebirds to see the truth.  I even think it’s even a possibility Felicia, Kathleen, and Colin will take up space in my mind for some time to come.

If I must be perfectly honest….

Perhaps my natural aversion to gushy novels skewed my perspective, but I thought it bogged down a bit in the middle.  I had that giddy-up-go-get-on-with-it-already feeling.  Not enough to make me stop, put the book down, and never pick it up again.  But the action quickly resumed and I was once again transported to the 1890s.

I also developed some confusion toward the end of the book.  Don’t know if I didn’t quite read things right or what.  But as anticipated, everything came to a gratifying completion and I have to admit I enjoyed this novel.  So much so that I’m excited to dive in to the next book in the series.

Tune in later…

…and see how much I liked it.

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Store Proprietor: No.

Chigurh: 1958. It’s been traveling 22 years to get here. And now it’s here. And it’s either heads or tails.

It’s impossible to watch this iconic scene from the Coen brothers morality tale No Country for Old Men without contemplating the place of chance and necessity in human affairs. For those who hold to the credo that we are the captains of our fates, the notion that our lives are sometimes irresistibly subject to the undertow of contingency is distasteful in the extreme.

Yet in spite of such conditioning — in spite of our clinging belief in the sovereignty of the individual will or our ability to manifest our desires — everyone sooner or later experiences the vertigo of circumstances which overtake and surpass our best efforts to control our lives.

Of course few of us find fate arriving in the form of the psychopath; it’s also rare to have our lives reduced to the outcome of a single coin-flip. More often, events and situations form a blind and silent conspiracy, whether for good or ill, that are only discerned retrospectively, if at all.

Which brings me to Michael Lewis, whose recent commencement speech on the merits of success (at his alma mater, Princeton) has garnered a bit of notice this graduation season.

Lewis is to be credited for acknowledging his speech likely wouldn’t be remembered by the Class of 2012 for much longer than the time it took to doff their robes. (And I imagine blogposts about Lewis’ comments will be dispatched to obscurity exponentially more quickly.) Still, he was perhaps deservedly invited to PBS Newshour to discuss his speech.

The gist of Lewis’ talk was summed up by Lewis himself during the Princeton commencement, when he said:

People really don’t like to hear success explained away as luck — especially successful people. As they age, and succeed, people feel their success was somehow inevitable. They don’t want to acknowledge the role played by accident in their lives.

There is a reason for this: the world does not want to acknowledge it either… Don’t be deceived by life’s outcomes. Life’s outcomes, while not entirely random, have a huge amount of luck baked into them. Above all, recognize that if you have had success, you have also had luck — and with luck comes obligation. You owe a debt, and not just to your Gods. You owe a debt to the unlucky.

Speaking of the “extra cookie” (i.e, the rewards that accrue to the successful), Lewis continued…

All of you have been faced with the extra cookie. All of you will be faced with many more of them. In time you will find it easy to assume that you deserve the extra cookie. For all I know, you may. But you’ll be happier, and the world will be better off, if you at least pretend that you don’t.

Later, he told Newshour’s Jeffrey Brown:

“I do think that there has been kind of sapped out of the culture an idea that used to be pretty robust. And it’s the idea of noblesse oblige. It’s the idea that to whom much is given, much is expected from. (emphasis added)”

Now as graduation-speech sentiments go, this isn’t exactly ground-breaking stuff, especially at an institution whose unofficial motto is “In the Nation’s Service and in the Service of All Nations.” But I do think there are one or two interesting takeaways to consider, though perhaps not the ones Lewis was aiming for.

I’m a copywriter by trade, and one of the tests I always pose to my copy is the “so what” test.

So I imagined myself sitting amongst the recently conferred baccalaureates, at least some of whom, unmoved by the transient good will of the occasion, might be asking of Lewis, “So What? Even if I believe you when you say part of the reason I’m here today at this august occasion was due to luck, how does that obligate me to anyone else?”

And some of the audience, if they are of an argumentative bent, may further ask Lewis how his philosophy of luck applies to those who find themselves on the flip side of the coin.

If we aren’t to be deceived by outcomes, why should we pay any attention whatsoever to who has been lucky or unlucky?

Does one person really have a claim upon the generosity of another by virtue of the fact he’s been “unlucky?”

Lewis seems to think they do, but doesn’t present a clear case as to why they do, except perhaps by engaging in circularity and/or emotivism.

Because it seems telling someone that because she was lucky, she now owes something to people who are unlucky is still a pretty hard case to make.

Sure it would be nice if she felt that way, perhaps, but some folks may not feel their happiness is increased just because they pretend they don’t deserve the cookie. In fact, the contrary is likely. And merely telling someone that since they’ve been fortunate, they should be generous, doesn’t impose upon them the obligation to be generous, unless they determine they like being generous.

Yet it’s my sense that most of the people I speak with every day, whatever their circumstances, do want to live in a society where the more fortunate happily reach out to provide for those in need.

But can we make the case that such an ordering is not only desirable, but that it is also an obligation?

Perhaps it would be helpful to examine more closely where Lewis’ argument breaks down. That will be the focus of the next post. Hope you’ll come back for it.

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Shane Claiborne at Willow Creek Pt. 2

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Nonplussed, they said they thought that is what parents do with newborns. Not doing so was, however, still considered an acceptable choice for parents who might prefer to institutionalize or put up for adoption children thought to have necessarily bleak futures.

“In 1972,” Will writes further, “people with Down syndrome were still commonly called Mongoloids.

“Now they are called American citizens, about 400,000 of them, and their life expectancy is 60. Much has improved.”

Not very much that’s controversial, there.

And if Will had contented himself with relating how his son has lived a life full beyond expectation and enriched the lives of others who have crossed his path, we could all enjoy a moment of quiet reflection on parental dedication and go on about our day.

But Will uses the occasion of his son’s birthday to draw a larger point: that though much has improved for such children, in the larger society there has also been, “moral regression, as well.”

And of course that point doesn’t sit so well with many.

It may cause us to react with varying degrees of cynicism, even offense, at the conclusions he draws when considering how we choose to either give birth to, or destroy, unborns whom we perceive to have “necessarily bleak” (read: ‘expensive’) futures.

In arguing that we have experienced a moral regression, Will relates that Jonathan was born as prenatal testing was becoming common and just eight months before Roe v. Wade inaugurated an era of “casual destruction of pre-born babies.”

This era, he continues:

has coincided, not just coincidentally, with the full, garish flowering of the baby boomers’ vast sense of entitlement, which encompasses an entitlement to exemption from nature’s mishaps, and to a perfect baby. So today science enables what the ethos ratifies, the choice of killing children with Down syndrome before birth.

Expectedly, reactions to Will’s observations vary depending on a variety of factors, including religious belief and political leanings.

Most traditional Catholics and Evangelicals would find abhorrent the notion that it’s acceptable to end a life just because one is uncertain as to one’s ability to cope with such a bleak (expensive) future. (I can’t speak to how Muslims would react, but welcome informed comments. Interestingly enough, Will has described himself as “agnostic.”)

Others, whether conservative or liberal, would take Will to task.

Some liberals would point out that “capital ‘C’” Conservatives who decry abortion often appear to be against providing taxpayer resources to help children like Jonathan.

And indeed some conservatives, especially more Libertarian ones, say it’s wonderful if someone like Will is able to provide for children like Jonathan, but, “don’t expect us to pay for it.” They may even go further to say that in the face of an inability to pay, the decision to abort is a responsible one.

Both seem to agree that as a Conservative who champions smaller government at almost every turn, Will is in danger of gross inconsistency — if not downright hypocrisy — if he’s suggesting it’s society’s responsibility to shoulder the burden of parents who give birth to children they don’t have the ability to properly care for.

I’ll leave it to Will to answer those charges. A task I’m certain he is eminently qualified to undertake.

But to my mind, Will’s description of my generation as having a sense of entitlement to exemption from nature’s mishaps is accurate.

And it seems that contained within that entitlement ethos is the notion that “sacrifice,” “burden,” and “inconvenience” are all synonymous, unmixed evils.

So in the case of a problematic or even merely unplanned pregnancy, among the primary, if not the very first of considerations is, “can we afford this?” which often means nothing other than, “will we have to change our lifestyle to accommodate this child?”

Now, if you are pro-choice, you may not find this particularly vexing, especially if you view the unborn as a fetus, or a mass of cells, or part of the women’s body.

And, except to ask that you honestly consider how much that view is predicated on an entitlement ethos, it’s not my purpose here to talk you out of your belief.

Instead, I’d like to address those of us who consider abortion of such unborns to be extremely troublesome, if not an unmitigated societal evil.

And I’d like to do it in the context of something that happens in almost every church — baby dedications.

It being Mother’s Day, there’s a chance that like me, you witnessed a baby dedication today.

If you did, you probably witnessed the child’s parents stand up in front of the congregation and promise to the Lord to raise their child in a godly way.

At the churches I’ve been active in, the pastor also asks the congregation to affirm they will support the parents in this endeavor.

Today, as I joined my church in making just such an affirmation, I wondered how many of us (including me) really understood what it was we were agreeing to.

Were we willing to come together as a community around those parents? Were we willing to do so in the knowledge we may very well have bound ourselves to inconveniences, burdens, even sacrifices we could not have anticipated as we made our pledge? or that our inability to foresee those burdens did not release us from our obligation?

Do we understand that we are not put here on earth to be free of nature’s mishaps, and that our lot as Christians is to love our neighbor, whom C.S. Lewis has described as, “next to the Blessed Sacrament itself,… the holiest object presented to your senses,” in whom, Christ, “the glorifier and the glorified,” is hidden?

If we haven’t understood and displayed the above truth through our actions, then any arguments we make to the world will be seen as nothing more than easily carried opinions, with little ability to answer the charges of “hypocrite,” that we undoubtedly, perhaps rightfully, will endure.

God’s politics is not liberal or conservative. Instead, it is a politics based on life in God’s Kingdom. Yes, there is a future kingdom in which we will realize our truest selves. But I believe he also expects us, with the Spirit’s help, to diligently move toward that realization here and now. That, I believe, is what Paul meant when he charged us in Philippians to work out our salvation in fear and trembling.

Doing so will require us to bear burdens we would not have asked for. Let us pray when we are called, as we know we will be, that we fulfill our obligations to our neighbor in the knowledge that no matter what is asked of us, Christ has already done immeasurably more than we ever could.

Happy Mothers’ Day.

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That footwashing (as opposed to Baptism and celebration of the Eucharist) appears only once in the Gospels; that footwashing is not practiced in Acts; and that there is no detailed instruction regarding when it is to be practiced.

As mentioned in my previous post, it’s not my intent to argue the status of footwashing as an ordinance.

However, neither do I believe Christ’s instructions on this matter are to be taken lightly, and it seems those who argue against footwashing as an ordinance are invariably reduced to exercising in some pretty intricate exegetical gymnastics in order to dilute the force of Christ’s command, “that you also should do just as I have done to you.” (John 13:14-16)

To explore how footwashing may contribute to our capacity to participate in the goods internal to, and extend our conception of the ends resulting from, the practice of discipleship will require an imaginative act.

Most commentaries that commend footwashing as an example to be followed do so in the context of the “servant leader.” And given Jesus words in Mark 10:44, it seems unproblematic that in washing the disciples’ feet, Jesus was intentionally modeling an  example of humble service to be emulated by Christians in leadership positions.

But as Jerome H. Neyrey and others have noted, the Johannine text is a complicated one, and without close attention, our historical and cultural distance from it can cause us to miss much of what’s happening.

Here, instead of focusing on Christ’s apparently self-humbling action, I’d like to look at what’s going on with Peter.

Peter is aghast at what Jesus is about to do. “Lord, do you wash my feet?” he asks incredulously. Jesus responds not with a “yes” or “no” but simply requires Peter to allow his feet to be washed in the faith that Peter will later understand what Jesus has done.

But Peter cannot accept this. If Christ is to wash his feet, then surely Jesus must also wash Peter’s hands and head.

And here I think is where many commentators who wish to relegate footwashing to mere “example” status may be missing something.

Because while Jesus’ act certainly carries with it a valuable lesson in servant leadership, it also carries an equally valuable lesson in receiving grace.

As Neyrey has pointed out, Jesus is training his disciples in the art of the “Good Shepherd.” And part of that training requires the disciples learn how to serve their flock. But if that’s all Jesus intended, he could simply have had the disciples wash each others’ feet. Or, better yet, he could have brought in the household servants and had the disciples wash their feet.

However, perhaps Jesus wanted to ensure the disciples not only knew that “whoever would become great must become a servant.” Perhaps Jesus also wanted them to understand at an experiential level what it means to be tenderly served by one’s master.

This single act, it seems serves multiple purposes, not the least of which may be to completely break through the most fundamental of status relationships.

It’s one thing for Jesus to command his disciples to serve his flock.

It’s quite another to require a servant to allow his master to bow before him and perform such a seemingly menial and intimate service.

To get an idea of what this must have felt like to Peter, imagine if a slave in Herod’s court had suddenly found his king performing such a task. It would have been almost horrifying–a violation of all conceptions of the order of things with no reference point for understanding such an act.

Yet this is what Jesus required of his disciples. And in so doing, we might not be wrong in thinking, he modeled both the love his Father had for him, as well as heart with which Jesus received that love.

Now we can see that not only is it important that leaders serve their flock. It’s also important that all of us, in whatever position we occupy, understand what it means to be so served.

To allow oneself to be served by one’s master may indeed be even more uncomfortable than to humble oneself before those one leads. How many leaders do we know who would not let themselves be so served?

To do so would be to acknowledge that one is in need of such care. We can brush off those whose status is inferior to our own when they attempt to help us. But it may be more difficult to allow our superiors to serve us in such a way as to appear to humble themselves.

To be a human is to find oneself at times in a position of relative independence and at other times in a position of utter dependence.

Most of us count the virtues of independence as being highly desirable.

But is it possible that there are also virtues of dependence?

One might object that a state of dependence is not something to be prized.

To that I offer two counter-objections.

The first is that all of us have been dependent when we began life. And all of us will be dependent as our lives come to an end. And many, if not all, of us will also have periods during which, due to circumstance or illness, we find ourselves in a position of dependence.

If dependence is an inescapable condition of being human, then certainly we should ask if it should always be treated as something to be despised both of others and ourselves.

The second objection is in the example of Christ himself, who not only acquiesced to, but cherished his utter dependence on his Father.

Here we have the model of one who made himself nothing, in the form of a servant (Philippians 2:7), and yet was given all authority in heaven and on earth by his Father (Matthew 28:18).

Given the above, it might be reasonable to ask if Jesus didn’t intend for us to actually wash the feet of those we serve.

And if he did, we might then ask if his intention was not only to model the Good Shepherd’s servant leadership. Perhaps he intended us to understand both that we are utterly and ultimately dependent upon God, and to help us learn what it means to be dependent on each other.

Now it may be there are other ways to “wash each others’ feet.” But it’s also true that as a culture we have a long history of looking with disdain at being dependent.

By instituting footwashing as a regular exercise, even if only on Maundy Thursday, for instance, we discipline ourselves both in the practice of servant leadership and in the virtues of dependence.

And in understanding there may indeed be such a thing as “virtues of dependence” it may be that we are able to more fully participate in the goods internal to, and extend our conception of, the ends resulting from the practice of discipleship as we serve both our Lord and each other.

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