NOBODY EXPECTS THE GERMAN INQUISITION

If you ever want to really like a person, I am convinced that the best thing to do is to read only articles written by people who truly, immensely hate him. Hate does wonders for destroying one's sense of objectivity, and raging rants tend to be rather more amusing than incriminating. I am convinced BBC News is, in fact, the cornerstone of all Right-Wing conspiracies, rather vast or miniature. They are also just plain fabulous. They manage not only to imply that their targets are patently worse than either their article's facts or any reasonable ammount of common sense would allow, but they do so while retaining thier witty and supercilious voice. American news sources are just as accusatory; none have any of BBC's characteristic wit. (Not to mention that I have the unfortunate habbit of agreeing with certain American channels much more commonly, which takes all the fun out of everything.)

With that said, now that the former head of the Inquisition (well, technically they did rename it The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, for some strange PR reasons) is the Pope, I don't think I shall be capable of disliking him.

Take this extended quote from BBC's profile of Benedict XVI (formerly Cardinal Ratzinger):

The new Pope has been chosen from what could be termed the traditional side of the Catholic Church. To some, he heralds intellectual salvation during a time of confusion and compromise. To others, his record as Pope John Paul II's prefect of doctrine showed the then Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger to be an intimidating "Enforcer", punishing liberal thinkers, and keeping the Church in the Middle Ages.

See, they even attack him by presenting both sides! Note the casual understatement of polite disgust ("what could be termed the traditional side")! The next sentence actually represents accurately the contrary view! Then gaze upon the final blow of rhetoric, completing the sandwiching of the compliment within insults: "prefect of doctrine!" "Intimidating "Enforcer"" (the quotes mean it represents the feelings of the people on the street as he walks by!) Unfortunately, such brilliance, as I have heard is the case even in Homer, cannot be consistent. The last two accusations are merely statements of fact - the first one is accurate, the second a lie (though, admittedly, this is all counched as what his opponents say, and therefore the BBC never approaches making any false claims.)

This probably isn't the best example, and I could say more, but that would quite ruin the fun. I say, "go visit the site! It'll be the most fun you've had in the particular time you take to visit the site. Guaranteed!!"

Anyway, on a more serious note, Ratzinger looks like he has the makings of a great Pope. From what little I've read (all of it today), he seems a truly brilliant thinker who has weighed and pondered doctrines to see what is true and consistent with Scriptures (doesn't change the fact that I also think he's often wrong). More importantly, he seems to express a true humility, and doesn't make faith a mere intellectual exercise or a justification for some philosophy. I think only one quote is needed to illustrate this:

The God who shares our sufferings, the God who became man in order to bear our cross, wants to transform our hearts of stone; he invites us to share in the sufferings of others. He wants to give us a "heart of flesh" which will not remain stony before the suffering of others, but can be touched and led to the love which heals and restores. Here, once again, we return to the words of Jesus about the grain of wheat, which he himself laid down as the fundamental axiom of the Christian life: "He who loves his life loses it, and he who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life" "Whoever seeks to gain his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life will preserve it").

Of course, predicting the future - even the actions of a Pope - is often a silly game, even when well-informed. But I very seriously doubt that Benedict XVI is going to go on my "uncool" list for quite some time. And he even has such style that he can wear a black sweater under his mitre.

The 42 Thesis (sing.) or Calvinism Revisited Again

One of my favorite books (soon to be a movie!), is all about the "answer to life, the universe, and everything." People have, in the story's fictitious universe, striven to understand it for millions of years, until a brilliant race of philosophers built a massive supercomputer to calculate the answer. It does, many thousands of years later, give a response: the "answer to life, the universe, and everything" is 42. The response is correct. The response is absolutely verified. There is no way one can argue with the response. But since no one knows what the question to "life, the universe, and everything" is, it is utterly meaningless.

I believe in a holy, triume God. I believe that humanity is, collectively and individually, a race of fallen creatures, completely separated from God. I believe that God, in order to reveal his glorious nature, choose out of His mercy to save and redeem as many humans as he could without violating His nature. All of this (well, except perhaps the phrase "as many humans as he could without violating His nature") is straight Calvinism. All of this is meaningless, without a proper view of man.

Humans are not some inanimate objects or soulless beasts, some quintessences of dust to which God wishes to blow in His life. That's how we started, but we are beyond that. We have been made in the Image of God -- we are moral creatures with the capacity to "judge Angels." We are the closest thing to a God the universe has ever known -- except, of course, for God Himself.

"God created Man in his own image, in the image of God he created them; Male and Female he created them."

And that, my friends, is the "man" which God loves.

Now we've come a long way, since them. That wasn't good enough for Eve; it wasn't good enough for Adam. They wanted to be like God, equal to Him and not under Him. When they put this doctrine into practice, they violated who they were -- they sinned, and separated themselves from God, each other, and themselves. And as God had said, so it was done. "That day you eat from the tree of the knowlege of good and evil, dying you shall die." (My translation, based on many conversations with people who knew Hebrew.) Yet everyone on earth is still dying, even as they are dead. Calvinism preaches total depravity, that we cannot touch God without Him first reaching to us. And that is completely true. But it is the answer, not the question.

The question comes when I watch the end of Braveheart. The question comes when I watch The Godfather. The question is there explicitly throughout Hamlet. The question is even more explicit in the animes Trigun or Cowboy Beebop. But really, the question is in everything that humans create: What is this thing called mankind? Why is he so great, and why is he so evil? Why are Hitler and Ghandi, Nietzsche and Spielberg, Freud and Dostoevsky, somehow the same thing? Why is humanity worth saving, and why does it sometimes seem a monstrous thing worth annihilating.

We are fallen creatures. We are not what we are made to be. But we are not nothing, are anything but nothing. As one of my favorite of Chesterton's characters put it, "they say in the eyes of God we are all equal, but if you say it that way, it sounds flat. ... No, in the eyes of God, we are dignified. We may be damned, but damnit, we are dignified."

I believe there is hope, even amongst that. I believe that Jesus became a human, "was a man of sorrows, and well acquainted with suffering", "wept," "was tempted in every manner." I even believe that he laughed; I know that he was reputed a "drunkard and friend of sinners and tax collectors." (And, though it is a matter that tries my faith, I believe that tax collectors were even more disliked back then then they are today!) He is, truly, the "firstborn of all creation;" the first man to demonstrate a renewed humanity. I could continue writing my own words, but the Nicene Creed puts it much more beautifully:

"For us and for our salvation
he came down from heaven:
by the power of the Holy Spirit
he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary,
and was made man.
For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate'
he suffered death and was buried.
On the third day he rose again
in accordance with the Scriptures;
he ascended into heaven
and is seated at the right hand of the Father.
He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead,
and his kingdom will have no end.

We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of life,
who proceeds from the Father and the Son.
with the Father and the Son he is worshiped and glorified.
He has spoken through the Prophets.
We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.
We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.
We look for the resurrection of the dead,
and the life of the world to come. Amen."

And, you know what, I believe that this is what Christian Calvinists (and I am good friends with many) are preaching. Christ came down, and only through his death for our sins can we be made whole again, made into the new nature, not corrupt but glorified. But it all makes about as much sense as "42" if you don't know the question. In fact, it does absolutely nothing good if one knows the answer without knowing the question, and the question comes from life as much as anything. As G. K. Chesterton put it, "the Word must become flesh." Jesus attacked the pharisees viciously, and constantly spoke gently to samaritans, prostitutes, adulterers, and all those who knew the question -- who knew that mankind was imperfect, yet loved others still. The Pharisees knew the answers, but the sinners knew the question. As Jesus sarcastically put it, "I did not come for the well, but for the sick."

I don't think I could ever become a Calvinist, because I associate Calvinism too much with the answer, the "42", rather than the question, the understanding of human dignity. Because the analogy I started this article can be carried through further. That race of philosophers sought out the "question to the answer to life the universe of everything." They almost found it, using a planet-sized supercomputer with organic components (Earth). But then, just a few minutes before the answer came out, the computer was demolished. Their response: lets just make up some sentence of mumbo-jumbo, and no one will care anyway. The question is simplified to "how many roads must a man walk upon."

Personally, I have known many Calvinists who take this one step further. They talk about God's glory, but refuse to get involved in discussions of God's grace and love and righteousness and omnipotence and allowance of human free will, etc. Instead, they just simplify the question: "how many roads has God's glory walked upon." God's glory is a serious subject. But I have talked to people who claimed to be Christians -- who were Christians -- but who just spoke of God's mystical, unknowable "glory." Almost an attitude of "well, when you get to heaven, you'll see it, so why bother with talking about it now, when we're sure to see only an incomplete picture." (All of these people claimed to be Calvinists, hence the association.) It's not anywhere near the correct question -- the correct question is Jesus. For there the Word became Flesh, there I can point and say "this is God, this is what He did." There I can say, drawing out the "all ways" quoted far above, that Christ was tempted to have sex with the adulterers and prostitutes who many associated him with. I can say that God didn't accept His will calmly, that when he saw Lazarus dead, "he wept." He never mentioned God's will. He morned. Then he brought Lazarus back from the grave. I still don't know what God's glory is, but I know that it is that; it is the Jesus who is a question, a stone of offense. It is the Jesus who is God, but the most human of men; the Jesus who asked that his cup be taken from him, yet submitted to his father's will.

Jesus questioned, and he was driven by immensely human emotions. How then could I ever preach a "total depravity of man" that doesn't see the similarities between those qualities deemed "most human" and the life of Christ? For those who have lost the answer, Jesus is the divine physician. But if we ever loose the question, we become pharisees. "The Word became flesh, and made its dwelling among us. And we have seen the glory, the glory of the One and Only."

Nothing New Under the Sun ... But Old Things Can Be Good

It has been thousands of years, of course, since King Solomon put pen to paper and wrote that "there is nothing new under the sun," but I continue to be amazed at just how many ways there are for that statement to be proved true. Today's subject is Erasamus of Roterdam and Free Will. (Actually, this is ironic - I first posted this a number of days ago on my other blog, before "Calvinism Revisited")

Throughout my life, one of my biggest beefs with Calvinism (as I viewed it) was that it was a doctrine which denied free will. This was very important to me, for two reasons. The most visceral reason is that free will, in my opinion, is what separates mankind from animals and even possibly angels; what makes mankind something that God would crucify his son to save (as opposed to, say, a paperclip). The implications of this are, for me, immense. When I see any person on the street, I can remember that they are truly special, truly dignified, broken image-bearers of the God of the universe. As a character in one of my favorite G. K. Chesterton stories put it, "People say that in the eyes of God we are all equal, but when you put it like that, it somehow falls flat. No, in the eyes of God, we are all dignified. We may be damned but, damn it all, we are dignified."

That, I truly believe, is the first major part of my problems with "Damncalvinists." The people who I would place in that category tend to be very dismissive of anything "human" (unless in their particular field). Traditionally, at least as far back as Jonathan Edwards, Calvinists tended towards the Sciences (learning about God's providence in Creation) and away from the arts (which I view as broken expressions of the image of God, an image very close to the popular conception of "humanity.") What it results is a lot of bad things, in my opinion, but I'm not going to discuss that now.

The second problem with a complete denial of free will is that it undercuts every moral claim of the Bible. When Jesus went around, he gave many speeches to mass audiences calling them to choose the Kingdom of God. In the epistles, there are many discussions of moral choice and choosing Christ over the world. I've never denied that the ability to truly turn away from the hopeless, self-destructive (hell bound) corruption of fallen man is predicated upon God first reaching out to the individual (Erasamus and Medieval theology called this "Conditioning Grace"). But at the same time, if there is no such thing as free will, then the entire scriptures, as well as every conception of justice, become rather meaningless.

The third problem I have had with Damncalvinists is their insistence on dogmatizing things which I see as purposefully questionable in scriptures and open to different interpretations of true Christians. This results in a sort of insistence on theology whose import often cannot be immediately grased, and an excissive eagerness to throw away considerations of the exemplary lives of Christians in favor of easy, artificial lines. The scriptures state that "they shall know we are Christians by our love;" I once had a conversation with a Damncalvinist who replied to my use of St. Francis of Assisi as an illustration of a point with the words "well, I'm really quite unsure as to rather he was a Christian; he said some pretty strange things, sometimes." Not that doctrine isn't important - God is real, and there are ways to know him and ways to sin against him. But there is such a thing as the worship of dogma as an idol.

But the point of this article is that every one of those critiques was offered by Erasamus against Martin Luther. He started his arguments by claiming that Luther and Scholastic philosophers were alike guilty of dogmatizing questionable assumptions, and that Luther was too agressive in ignoring potential schism within a Church that should be unified. He focused on the fact that God had foreknowledge of man's free choices, and worked within that to bring lost mankind back to Him, rather than forcing believers to follow Him apart from their choices. He described two perils of theology - man's confidence in his own works, and a reckless or despondent fatalism. (Damncalvinists, of course, tend to the latter.) Above all, he saw Luther's denial of free will as a threat to the Dignity of Man (Dignitati Hominis) (I've been using the masculine verb as if it were androgynous, because that's the traditional usage. Just so I'm not misinterpreted.) I could easily have uttered the sentence, "I like the opinion of those who attribute a little bit to free will, but most to God's grace. Man needs God's anticipatory grace - or better His conditionary grace, in order to allow man the opportunity to choose God."

The moral of the story: Christianity wasn't invented yesterday. And even if you disagree with my resistance to easy dogmas that explain away what I see as paradoxes of the Bible, that itself is not a new idea. Ever since the Calvinist reaction to Arminius (who, unlike Erasmus, I have some very serious theological disagreements with - from what little I know), it seems very hard to find a reasonable and in-depth discussion of contraversial theology. All I can find today seems to be repetitions of just those aspects of the Church which our culture promotes (just look at a Christian bookstore - Your Best Life Now). And that has probably been true of the Church since it began - people are shaped by their culture. But Christians have been discussing some of the hardest questions of what it means to be a Christian ever since 33 ad (or so), and there are some pretty good ideas out there. At the very least, I know that I'm going to be reading up on my Luther and Erasmus this summer.