Now We See the VIolence Inherent in the System

There is this guy at the center of Christianity

Well, actually he's this God.

Well, that's not true either. He's kind of part of a triume God. It's like God has three personalities, only being God and all they can hang out with each other, talk to each other, and even separate and go do different things while checking in to make sure they aren't getting in each other's way. (A lot of people talk about how this eternal hanging-out is the basis of God's social character and the foundation of his eagerness to hang out with man.) And Jesus is one of those.

Only he became a man, which meant he got to do a lot of not-typically-godlike activities like "learn" and "grow" and "weep at a man's funeral." He also did a lot of typically-godlike activities like spout seeming nonsense that seemingly makes sense of the world, break all sorts of laws of man and physics with authority and confidence, and raise a couple of people from the dead (including, incidentally, the guy he wept over.)

He preached about a "Kingdom of Heaven," which is not different from the kingdoms of earth in the way that it white differs from black, but is different from the kingdoms of earth in the way that white differs from lamps-being-turned-on. He understood that we wouldn't understand, but said God would help us, that only by God's power could we come to understand anything at all. (Some debate has crept up at various times in the past 2000 years as to how this works, and what this means for free will, but I have a sneaky suspicion that even those answers are left purposefully mysterious.) Most of all, he said that our whole life should be aimed at furthering the "Kingdom of Heaven" and earning "treasures in Heaven," and demonstrated this by his willingness to sacrifice his very life on a Cross. He also did this by eating and drinking with sinners, calling prostitutes to forgiveness, and generally go about the process of making people whole in a way that seemed twisted, strange, and backwards. He didn't have a lot of good things to say to the rich or the visibly spiritual. Mostly he had this idea that it was him, personally, who showed what God is like and how to become like God. And that it was God, his father, who gave people power to live a changed life, so they can be just like Jesus--the "man of sorrows, and well acquainted with suffering."

Somehow, this all made sense in a left-field sort of way to a lot of people. It makes lots of sense to me. The world is broken, and it's up to God to fix it. But we can play a part, too, especially if we humbly acknowledge our poverty, rely on Jesus, and live a life of grace.


Now Christ's life is not the only thing Christians hold to be true, or even the entirety of the message we claim God sent to us. But it is the core--which is why we embraced the (originally derogative) term "Christians" and hold it as our own.


But there was this other guy, a very smart and compassionate guy, who saw a lot of the greed and hypocrisy of the world, and decided that it was completely broken. The rich, he saw, generally stay rich at any cost, while telling the poor stories that make them content enough to keep working. These stories took many forms--some of them were histories, in which first kings and later self-starters were idolized as Great and Noble, and any small indiscretions or vileness glossed over as part of their secular beatification. Some of them were religions, which the rich use to say "blessed are the poor" while keeping money for themselves. Some of these are, well, stories, which all have hidden "ideologies," or values which they espouse as either good or bad.

For him, the only way to escape these troubles was to associate himself with the powerless and not the powerful. The only good stories, really, were the peasant stories, the proletarian stories, because these were the honest speeches of oppressed peoples as opposed to the oppressive ideologies of the rich. The only good religion, really, was the worship of the peasant, because all our images of god are a form of worshiping the ultimate power, and therefore presupposes a natural (and oppressive) hierarchy of power. The only good fiction is that which doesn't corrupt, that which hasn't been sophisticated in order to systematize oppression but expresses the communal experience of united peasants.


Now one could argue that neither ideal has ever been fully put into practice in a social sense. Christianity, as one could argue (and many have), is that way because of its central paradox--even Christians are redeemed only through a process, and the fallen nature of humanity perpetuates the power-based kingdoms of earth. It is, in a very strong sense, a religion of longing for heaven far more than a religion enabling earthly happiness. Marxism failed because, not to put too fine a point on it, those who lead Marxist revolutions had a sneaky tendency to grab what power they can and then destroy anything that threatens their positions at the top of a power chain.


Now all of this, for me, puts a very interesting slant on the recent Pullman debate. Basically, and not to put too fine a point on it, a lot of Christians(1) seem to object to Pullman's books because, however well-written they are, they exist as expressions of an atheistic ideology (however strongly based in Christian thought and values.) For this reason, the Catholic League (for instance) has expressed a desire for a boycott of the movie on the hopes that no sequels will be made. The correlary, of course, is that a specifically Christian art should replace the secular, dangerous art of Pullman and his ilk; and Christians should only consume those products since they are written from the Christian ideological perspective. By replacing vehicles of "secular" or "pagan" ideology with vehicles of "Christian" ideology by exertions of financial power, the world can (according to such reasoning) be made into a more Christian place--that is, a place where the ideas and truths of Christ take precedence over the ideas and truths of man.


Funny thing, though. The methodology I see (villification of the dissenter, a strong sense of the necessity of group solidarity, communal use of power to suppress potentially evil ideas) seems to follow the pattern of one of these world-changing individuals. Guess who?


(1) Leaving aside, for the moment, the issue of Pullman's novels being given to children who are not sufficiently capable of reasoning through the arguments implicit in Pullman's books. After all, it does seem fundamental to Christianity to direct a child's life clearly, and limit early temptations to evil. Even Christ himself was raised as a good Jew.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight--The Short Version!

For those who love obscure Medieval texts of marginal importance, but just don't have the time to wade through thousands of lines of dialectic Middle-English verse, I present to you...Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the Short Version! (New and Improved, too: Now with 78% more of the tricky bits!)

Fitt 1:
Our story takes place long after the fall of Troy and that treacherous Aeneas and all that. In Camelot, in fact!

No, not that Camelot. Well, kind of. It's the young Camelot, lead by a young and sexy Arthur who may be somewhat childish but definitely has ADHD. It's a place of wonders, marvels, and games. Lots of games. Kissing games! Games with lords and ladies! Games in halls and chambers! (No, not those types of games. Well...maybe those types of games. But maybe not. Thing is, we're too polite to say either way, because the one thing we like better than games is manners. And fair fights. And the Spanish Inquisition.)

Enter Green Knight, on horse, with the bling of kings:

Green Knight: Hey, Arthur yo! I've heard your court is the best. I laugh. I bet your court is the worst.

Arthur: If it's a fight you want....

Green Knight: What kind of a barbarian do you take me for? Don't you see that I'm holding an olive branch (in the hand that isn't holding the Mother of All Axes)? I want a game!

Green Knight: A BEHEADING game.

Green Knight: A polite BEHEADING game. You chop my head off, then I chop off yours.

Court: We won't say anything. Maybe because we're polite, maybe because this is weird, maybe because he's GREEN.

Arthur: I will defend Camelot's honor, then.

Gawain: No, silly, people would actually be sad if you died. I'm not good at anything but talking. I'll take the honors.

Arthur: Helpful tip: Beheaded Enemies rarely have the ability to return the blow.

Gawain: Sure thing. *cuts off Green Knight's head in a single stroke*

Green Knight's head: Jolly good times! See you next year, at the green chapel!

Gawain: But...where is that?

Green Knight's head: I could tell you, but that would quite spoil the fun of my little game.

Green Knight leaves, carrying head.

Arthur: Well, what a show! What'd I tell you--we're a court of marvels! Back to the feasting and games!

Intrusive Narrator: And so everyone lived happily ever after. Except Gawain, who is DOOMED! DOOMED I TELL YOU!



Fitt 2:

Seasons: We change! It's winter now, so everything dies!

Gawain is fancily armed. Step by step. Wears a pentangle on his chest, to show that he embodies all virtues, and if he ever screws up they all are worthless.

Nobility of Camelot: Gawain seems such a decent fellow. We politely regret sending him off to die.

Gawain: I am a decent fellow. I politely regret going off to die.

Everyone smiles and returns to games, except for Gawain.

Gawain faces MARVELOUS, WONDROUS adventures in the savage wilds. But enough about that.

Bercilak: Welcome to my Castle in the Middle of Nowhere. Meet my wife.

Gawain: How convienent. Thanks! Name's Gawain.

Bercilak: Oh! The knight of Arthur! In that case we'll put you in socially awkward situations, and take notes to see how Arthur's court measures up on the polite-o-meter!

Gawain: Thanks! And I will return the great compliment by being polite. How may I best serve you by remaining in my bed and recovering from my wounds and starvation?

Bercilak: Oh, you have no idea. Mwua ha ha--, oh, er, by playing a game!

Gawain: Yay! I love games! They never cause me any inconvenience and are always so fun!

Bercilak: Then you'll love this. You stay at home and sleep. I hunt. We trade my winnings for your checkmate--er, for your winnings. Oh, also, what do you think of my new collection? I call it: The Menagerie of Strange Items that Resemble Headless Knights!

Gawain: This game in no way resembles the last game I played. So certainly there's no trick here, either.


Fitt 3

Gawain: What is that at my door? Let me look...secretly.

Gawain: Blast! It's bercilak's wife, and I'm in bed. Maybe if I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep, she'll go away.

15 minutes later...

Gawain: Or I could just wake up and see what she wants.

Wife: Oh, you sexy knight. You're really cool, you know that? I love the way you powerfully force people to do whatever you want. It's very chivalrous of you. I offer you my body--er, my obedience as your submissive servant.

Gawain: Er...and you're very beautiful too. And as a woman locked up alone in a castle in the middle of nowhere, I bet you read a lot of books, and hear the best rumors. Let's talk about everything!

Gawain: But first can you leave so I can get dressed?

Wife: No.

Gawain: A noble sentiment. Now as I was saying, the nature of the soul is such that it is imbued at birth, but does not in fact originate with the creation of a person's body.....

Meanwhile, Bercilac and his theigns make sure that they're only hunting female deer. Then they mount their horses, pull out their lances, and drive the panicking deer into the dark corner of the forest until it has no further space to run. Then they pierce it through the heart with their long lances, take it back to the castle, strip off its skin, remove its guts, and begin to prepare it as meat for the night's dinner.

Wife: Well...it's been a long day, and you are a most wonderful polite and conversant knight. But there's one other thing I'd like to ask.

Gawain: Just name it, m'lady.

Wife: A kiss.

Gawain: A noble request, and thus I am honor-bound to accept. But just one kiss.

Later

Bercilak: Just for you, Gawain, this wonderful feast represents all my winnings!

Gawain: And for you, all my winnings.

Bercilak: Wow, Gawain, you're a good kisser. Who taught you that?

Gawain: A knight is a man of mystery, and never reveals his secrets.


Events repeat, until at the end of the third day...

Wife: Gawain, you most noble and wonderful knight, you have given me such great conversation and I have given you so little. Take this green girdle in memory of me--and because it will make you invincible.

Gawain: If you insist.

And later....

Bercilak: I must say...you keep getting the best kisses, my elaborate feasts pale in comparison.

Gawain: Well, ya know, we knights of Camelot like our games...

Bercilak: Anything else you were given today? Girdle, perhaps, or something green?

Gawain: Nope! Just kisses! Certainly not a girdle of invincibility!


Fitt 4:

Random Squire: Gawain, are you sure you want to go to the Green Chapel? If you turn back now, no one can tell otherwise!

Gawain: I am Beowulf!!!...er...I am Gawain. I never quit mid-game.

Random Squire: Okay. But you will die.

Gawain: If I die, I will die....WITH HONOR!

Random Squire: Big words from a guy who spent the last three days kissing his host's wife in bed.

Random Squire: Ooohhh, do you hear that strange and ominous sound?

Green Knight: **Sharpens Axe.** **Loudly**

Gawain: So?

Green Knight: **Runs finger along blade** Ouch! Still sharp.

Gawain: Meh!

Green Knight: **Twirls axe through the air, cutting the head off several nearby woodland creatures.**

Woodland Creatures: **Writhe in terrible agony**

Gawain: Pah! These sights affright me not!

Green Knight: Then in that case...stand still right there, and wait for a few minutes. I'm not quite ready.

Gawain: Now you're just being mean.

Green Knight: **Swings at Gawain**

Gawain: Eek!

Green Knight: Hah! Knew you'd flinch!

Gawain: No, I just wasn't ready! Try it again:

Green Knight: **Stops axe just before it hits Gawain's neck**

Gawain: You scare me not! Now swing for real already!

Green Knight: **Swings again, and nicks Gawain's neck**

Gawain: HAH! You hit me that time! The game is over!

Gawain: Now I can ask you your name!

Green Knight: I'm Bercilak, the knight who hosted you. Oh, and you were an evil sinner, you should have given me that useless girdle in the exchange of winnings! You are a false and faithless knight, who trusts to superstitious talismans.

Gawain: Nooooooo!!!!!

Green Knight: You are also the bravest and best knight who ever lived.

Gawain: Noooooooo!!!! *sobs* *gives back girdle*

Green Knight: And I want you to keep the girdle, as a gift from me.

Gawain: Noooooooo!!!

Green Knight: And I am your father!

Gawain: Really? My father was green?

Green Knight: Just joshin' with you. But in all seriousness, this whole thing was put on by Morgan le Fay to humiliate Arthur.

Gawain: Noooooooooooooo!!!

Gawain: **Returns to Camelot, and tells his story.**

Court: What a brave knight! We want to be like you!

Gawain: Noooooo!!!

Court: I know! We'll wear the girdle!

Gawain: But, but--that's supposed to represent my eternal shame. I'm going to go be sad about this dumb ending now.

Strongbad: It's over!

The End.

Identity 1: Marketing and Identity

Gilbert once wrote that it was atheists, far more than any other group of people, who lead him back to the Roman Catholic Church. This was because, as an atheist himself, he thought their arguments remarkably naive. (Apropos of nothing but in all fairness, I think the inverse is often true of Christians who loose their faith. In fairness to both sides, I seem to recall reading somewhere that "you will know a tree by its fruit.")

When I first started reading about globalization, I had a similar (though somewhat less profound) experience. I was reading Thomas Friedman's rather unintentionally nihilistic book on globalization, The Lexus and the Olive Tree, and came upon a rather striking illustration of the power of free commerce and global corporations. I don't remember the words, but the details are somewhat engraved on my mind.

Say you have a man, Friedman starts, in a repressive and authoritarian Middle-Eastern theocracy. All media supposedly should be censored, since that's what oppressive regimes do. But now, thanks to the wonders of globalizing technology, this is becoming an untenable proposition. For the Middle-Eastern TV viewer, national broadcast television has an illegal competition--small, concealable satellite dishes which enable him to spend all the time he wants watching the wonders which are kept from him through American television shows like .... (and here Friedman's unique rhetorical flourishes reach an all-time high) Baywatch.

Now there are a number of problems here. The first is Friedman's utterly loony interpretation of the idea of sexual liberation. Personally, I don't like the term in the first place, and I think it's common sense rather than oppressive conservativism that demonstrates that sexual liberty can be achieved most strongly when guided in the proper direction by self-control. In my opinion the only reason "sexual liberation" ever had any popularity is through a massive confusion of debate over the "proper" direction sexuality with debate over whether sexuality should be directed at all. Otherwise, we're just switching a consciously-adopted (or consciously resisted, as the case may be) controlling ideology for the unconscious tyranny of sexual urges.

All of which, however, is besides the point, because under no ideological grounds could Baywatch be considered sexual liberation of any kind. The point of the show is not to liberate Friedman's male viewer from the constrictive sexual roles which society assigns to him and release him into a unconstricted sexuality healthy for mind and body. The point is to encourage sex roles at their basest and most immature, calling on Friedman's male viewer to imagine a world whose greatest good is an exaggerated and commodified female form, available for $40/month plus installation.

But that, according to Friedman, is but the tip of the iceberg. For the prime force of globalization is "branding." Not content to commodify sexuality, "freedom of choice" now brings us commodification of identity. Since I'm apparently culturally stuck in the '90's (and, if I remain in academia, will ever remain so), a perfect example is the birth of Nike. Their clothing is rarely (if ever) marketed on the basis of superior quality or performance, but entirely on the basis of associative psychological conditioning. Their success lies entirely in their ability to train commercial-viewers to associate their icon with the fit and successful athlete-celebrities sporting it. The result has been the creation of a magic talisman in a trademarked shape which instantly boosts the value and psychological effect of clothes who demonstrate the swoosh. All through a simple process: Nike wearers (that I see) are athletic and hip. I can buy Nike clothes. Then I'll also be athletic and hip.

(And, lest I think I am immune, the same is true of Mac OS. Certainly it is a superior OS to Windows (why else would I use it), but what are we to make of the commercials in which a cool young hipster *is* a Mac, and a lovably-awkward middle-aged wannabe *is* a PC. Could it be that the real message of the commercial is that Mac *users* are hip and sane, and PC *users* are old-school behemoths refusing the newer, better technology? And that the consumer can change between these identities by the simple expedient of shelling out a few thousand dollars for a box containing the Mystical Apple?)

The truth is, "identity"--that is, culturally recognized markers of status and role--has always been a valuable item, on some cases worth killing for (just ask Shakespeare's Richard III as he seeks to be named "king") or sacrificing for (just ask the patriotic veteran proud to have lost a leg "for the flag.") It's also always been something that exploitive marketers are more than willing to sell you (what, did you think the 12-18 simultaneous owners of the so-called holy foreskin didn't consider themselves more holy for having purchased the false relics at inflated price?) The only difference (and the scary thing about Friedman's brand of globalism patriotism) is that the new consumerism has the psychological know-how to largely create its own ideals. A Nike-wearer gets his value from Nike ads, not through association with religion or nation. The difference? Religion and politics both present truth-claims (even if only on their own terms), and as a result are frequently debated amongst all classes within a culture. Advertisement works without conscious assent or dissent.

The true travesty here, is that Friedman is himself sold so that in his book our most beloved societal ideal (freedom) is merely the ability of the rich to purchase titillation and identity easily and cheaply.


(Coming Soon: Christianity and Identity, or a More Problematic Issue where I Return to the Standard CR Stance of Not Really Knowing the Answer.)

Just (or Mostly) to Set the Record Straight...

"It's a film that finds its main character's heroism not in his perfection, as it was in the poem, but in his ability to eventually overcome his human frailty and immorality and redeem himself through real selflessness."
(from a review of this weekend's Beowulf.)

Point of fact: The poem's Beowulf is notable not for his representation of the pinnacle of a pseudo-proto-Christian warrior culture, but by his inevitable defeat at the hands of evil despite his status as a paragon of well-formed humanity. Also, he could quite possibly out-talk Odysseus (though THAT grudge match would be well worth watching, and re-watching, and re-re-watching.)

Anyway, if the review represents the film correctly, they got it exactly wrong. (And, from other reviews, apparently gave into the temptation to make Beowulf fall into the Hollywood Stereotype of a Hero: a guy who does all his work with his sword (or gun), none with his mouth*. As a guy who really, really likes interesting and complex words, that's sad. I think Neil Gaiman just couldn't stand the fact that the REAL Beowulf's word-horde was bigger than his own.)

* Come to think of it, that paradigm might do a lot to explain America's traditional attitudes towards foreign policy.....

I Have Nothing to Recant--But Let Me Explain!

A few responses have indicated that I did not fully make the point I was attempting to make in my last entry. Here, then, is a few selected clarifications:


I am not "launch"ing myself "into "poststructuralism."" I am, in fact, firmly committed to the traditional orthodoxies of Christianity, with its associated "incarnational realities." If extreme poststructuralism is correct about the nature of language, than indeed that deepens my understanding of my dependence upon the one Soverign God who stands over all.

However, what I am questioning is the validity of the poststructuralist assertions, which in effect is a questioning of certain "anti-reason" strains within Protestantism, traceable to Luther and brought out most clearly in Calvin. There's a reason I chose the Catholic Chesterton as the "patron saint" of my blogging exercise: Chesterton's "common sense" approach to the world (which, had he lived long enough, would've described Foucault and poststructuralists as "madmen") is based on a contradictory but (arguably) equally Christian assertion. That assertion, put simply, is "there is no such thing as 'human reason;' all reason, rightly followed, leads to the one truth of God and Christianity."

(This is not to say that Chesterton enthrones Reason over God--on the contrary, he admits that in many ways, God doesn't seem to exist, and his own conversion to Christianity was based on a very intuitive and non-logic-bound sense that Christianity and life both allign in the areas they "don't make sense.")

A lot of contemporary Protestants subscribe to this "Catholic" theory of epistemology--but largely (I would argue) because they're influenced by C.S. Lewis, who was brought to Christ by (among others) the writings of the Catholic Chesterton and debates with the Catholic Tolkien. (Because, as a tracer of cultural history, it's okay for me to ahistorically deny the existence of any noncalvinist Christian denominations before 1943.)

For me--at the moment I stand between the Catholic and Protestant theories of knowledge. The Protestant theory certainly emphasizes the sovereignty of God--but for me, this comes largely at the cost that I cannot know much about doctrine in any absolute sense, and must continuously be skeptical about anything I say about God--or indeed, anything I say whatsoever about the structure of reality! I'm not sure how that works with the Pauline concept of a "richly rewarded" confidence, except possibly in a Exestential sense as I alluded to with my comment about "my faith is the evidence of things unseen."

The "Catholic" theory, on the other hand, strikes me as immensely sane and offers a reasonable grounding for discourse over doctrine/theology/etc. However, it merely asserts itself in opposition to the relativism of Protestant faith--from a "Protestant" perspective it could be seen as nothing more or less than an attempted assertion of "human reason" against the all-encompassing mystery of God.

Of course, Schaeffer's anti-relativist (i.e. "Catholic") assertion also carries a lot of weight--the Catholic view (unlike Calvinist poststructuralism) is "livable," and for Schaeffer any theory that cannot be lived by is meaningless. (Seriously--have you ever heard a preacher start his sermon by saying "of course, any thought you have in attempts to understand this is mere human reason, but let us hope that God through his unknowable soverignty shall speak to us in this time anyway.") I'm simply not sure that Schaeffer's "livable" acid-test has complete validity, and so I sit, wavering, somewhere between the two.

Is Poststructuralism a Protestant Faith?

It seems to me that Protestant (and certainly Calvinist) thought on the nature of truth since the Reformation is based on the tension between two related ideas:

1) Sola Scriptura, which effectively works out as a focus on the individual mind, armed with a single text (the Bible), as the final arbiter of truth. Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door* in order to liberate the truths of scripture from cold, dead interpretations of the corrupt Catholic Church of the Renaissance, and we should clutch our Bibles tightly and memorize them in order to come to a Christian understanding of life.

2) Total Depravity, and more particularly its pre-incarnation in Luther's phrase "human reason," a concept to be disparaged in favor of the unknowable "divine reason" which God uses as he sits in Heaven and predestines reality. That is, God can not be brought before the court of human reason, and since He (not mankind) created the universe, the key to ultimately understanding the world lies in His infinite mind and not humanity's finite comprehension.

This conjunction can (at the best of times) result in unbelievably profound meditations on the unapproachability of God--poems that try to rise through sheer effulgence and point at a God who is indescribable. As Donne says:

BATTER my heart, three person'd God; for, you
As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow mee,'and bend
Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new. ...

And so on. But there is a catch--quite possibly the biggest catch imaginable. While many poets who actually take time to imaginatively enter Donne's world can find themselves caught up in the wonder and rapture of this passionate, personal, infinite, incomprehensible God who works as a force of nature, only the elect will ever have this desire fulfilled in any real sense. The rest are left in their sin nature and "human reason," trapped in flawed systems of thought that are utterly separated from the luminous reality of the one true "Three person'd God." All our human systems of perception and reason are inherently flawed, part of the trap of our sinful and groaning world, and only the very few Elect shall ever be able to transcend it.

So, when Foucault and Derrida discuss language and culture as an inescapable system of power, control and exploitation--are they really in any way disagreeing with Calvinist thought, which states that even "true" religions (Old Testament Judiasm, Christianity) can and will become "whitewashed tombs" in accordance with the workings of sin and human reason--and that only the elect can transcend through the direct predestination of God and workings of the Holy Spirit? (Evidence suggests not--Foucault frequently appropriated Christian language and thought in order to describe his views of the world.)

And if so, does this mean the "Christian" response is to congratulate poststructuralism on its critical acumen, be thankful that God has chosen his Elect, and hope semi-blindly that I am indeed the "Elect" and not one of the millions hopelessly mired in Derrida's systems of power and control which the Bible calls "the world"?

It's questions like this that keep me rather deeply fearful of Calvinism, and that make me applaud Chesterton every time he demonizes Calvinists (an occurrence which, fortunately, is far more common in his writings than his hypocritical and incredibly wrongheaded antisemitism.) At the same time, without acknowledging a Pope, limiting the power of God, or becoming a Universalist (and the third of those I constantly find incredibly tempting--it would simplify so much!), I'm not sure how firm grounds I can stand on as a "Bible-believing Protestant" when considering the epistemological merit of my own personal readings of Scripture.

And yet Calvinism, and Christianity itself, is all based on particular readings of scriptures--readings that are themselves based on individual human reason.

And so, according to the Luther-Calvin-Foucault-Derrida line of dialog, we are thrown into a vortex of thought that implicates even reason itself in evil, and all that a sane person can do is (a) live a life of faith that God may lift you onto solid ground or (b) laugh, play, and drink lots of coffee in French cafes.

Maybe this is why early Christianity called itself "the Way," and looked only to the strange life/death/avowed resurrection of Christ as "the Way/Truth/Life." But still....I'm not sure that there isn't something we're missing re. the relationship of Reason and God.


*Of course, Luther didn't necessarily nail his theses to the door, nor was the hypothesized action a call for Luther's discourse ever to leave the already-present Church/academic structures of debate. But when all is said and done, Luther did introduce a radically personalized view of the method for the Christian to approach Christ's doctrine--and however conservative Luther himself may have been**, it's nearly impossible not to draw a line from Luther's foulmouthed anger at the corrupt body of the Catholic Church and the modern Christian who differentiates herself from "organized religion."

**And let us not forget that "however conservative Luther himself may have been," one of the first actions of this new way of looking at "sola scriptura," "sola Christus "sola gratia," "sola fide," and "soli Deo gloria," was to condemn the book of Titus and order its destruction.

Hans and Dumbledore

So...one of my friends is mildly obsessed with Alan Rickman. And has included on her site the following picture illustrating the Facebook group "I can't wait to watch Alan Rickman kill Dumbledore:"






This picture is simple brilliance.