Clarion: Journal of Spirituality and Justice

Truth is a River - Vladika Lazar Puhalo

Truth is a river in which the water is constantly renewed. Every new discovery, every new level of understanding, every unfolding of knowledge adds new water, deepens the channel, and broadens the perspective as the old water flows away and new water flows in. The supreme foolishness is to think that we possess any absolute or final truth. Each epoch proves such an idea wanting. Ironically, "truth" consists primarily in searching for it and understanding that when you find it, it will change with the next step in unfolding knowledge. The knowledge and understanding of reality proceeds in the same manner. We engage models of reality that to be truthful, must be replaced with new models of reality when the former ones are found to be only transitions from one level of knowledge to another. Those who think they have concrete and absolute truth or reality are truly deluded and frozen in a time that recedes into the past and becomes more and more disconnected, more and more episodes in cognitive dissonance, and those who hold such faded models and wilted truths generally only become more bitter and dogmatic the further they are left in the shadow of the past and the more their minds become irrelevant. Absolute truth exists only in the Heavenly Kingdom, and we frail and fallen humans know of that only in shadows and intimations. We cannot know it in fact until we experience it in the age to come.

(Vladika Lazar Puhalo, from "SAILING IN THE WINTER SUN: The Journal of an Old Man")

Fr. John Romanides said, "We know where grace is; we do not know where it is not."

Fine, we have a revelation, but also have some fairly lugubrious superstitions and fantasies. The notion that someone will "go to hell" for having been born in the wrong place and not having correct theology is particularly unattractive. We may have an obligation to preserve Orthodoxy of faith, but that in and of itself is no guarantee of our salvation. And preserving Orthodoxy in a triumphalist manner really does indicate that we may have correct theology, but are without the Gospel that it is based on, that we hold a faith which we have no understanding.

(Vladika Lazar Puhalo, personal correspondance, June 29, 2017)

Review of Hans Boersma's "Scripture as Real Presence" - by Ron Dart

Hans Boersma, Scripture as Real Presence: Sacramental Exegesis in the Early Church (Baker Academic, 2017).

Many are the tendencies and trajectories when approaching, reading and interpreting the Bible. The literal, grammatical, historic tradition and the higher-lower criticism approach have tended to dominate for many in the modern ethos. There has been a postmodern rebellion of sorts against such a reductionistic heritage, but such a leaning often lacks substantive depth and grounding. The decided and definite turn, in the last few decades, by those weary of the rather paper thin modern and postmodern approach to the Bible, has been to the wisdom and layered exegesis of the early church—Scripture as Real Presence stands within such a catholic and classical line and lineage.

How did the Fathers/Mothers of the early church read the Bible? Was it a one dimensional and rather flat approach or were there exegetical levels that were refined and nuanced? Scripture as Real Presence is a beauty and bounty of a tome that illuminates, in a pithy and poignant manner, portals through which, when walked in a meditative and participatory manner, new vistas in the relationship between text and experience, insight and transformation. The ten chapters are worthy of many a reread. Each of the Fathers of the Church (it might have been valuable to heed and hear some of the Mothers—there were many) are given their rightful due, place and space.

Review of Anna Yin's "Nightlights" - Ron Dart

Anna Yin, Nightlights (Black Moss Press, 2017)

Anna Yin has emerged, season by season, year by year, as a fine, probing and nuanced poet. There is a contemplative soul tenderness in her previous books of poetry that can only be accessed through many a slow and meditative read of each inviting poem. Anna’s recent book of poetry, Nightlights, illustrates Anna’s fuller potential that is ever being birthed and maturing. Nightlights is Anna’s newest book of poetry that embodies a venturing forth into the suggestive poetic pathway of haiku poetry and all the wavering and timid lights in the night such a journey taken reveals.

Nightlights is divided into six inviting parts: 1) Night Visitor, 2) Sweeping Gingko Leaves, 3) Dancing Alone, 4) Winter, 5) White Wreaths and 6) Reflections. Each of the haiku poems reveal, at ever deeper levels, quiet and unfulfilled longings, painful points on the journey, legitimate nostalgia, loneliness, mystery of unresolved desires, speech from nature to the heart, moments of tender union and places in the soul where few have lingered with the poet. Those who dare to go to the places Anna offers will discover much about their life pilgrimages yet needing to be lived into—a kindly yet aching call to hope in the night season.    

Nightlights should not be read merely for information. The deeper and wiser insights offered can only be understood by a slowing down and many a reread. The genre of the haiku, in many ways, is a form of expressing complex feelings, experiences and emotions, in a compact and succinct manner, which leaves many a portal open for entering the layered meaning of the poem. Anna has in this collection of subtle and refined haiku poems made it abundantly clear that this is way of expressing her poetic vision in a convincing and compelling manner. I found myself, at times, lingering at quite a few of the distilled haiku signals, doing my best to heed their call—each haiku in this collection has called forth much from Anna and, as such, reaches out to the reader and calls her/him to respond to the invitation of the unique haiku. A question—do we hear the call across the water from the further short—each poem certainly bids us welcome to cross the water.

The whispered and colourful front cover of Nightlights is a beauty worth many a quiet reflection as are the many poignant black and white photographs that introduce each part of the book. The “Introduction” by Claudia Radmore is worth many a read as a primer on haiku poetry. 

Many poets either say too much or what is said is so abstract or esoteric that the reader becomes lost in a maze. The simple and direct yet ever deeper layers of each congealed haiku that has lived through Anna in Nightlights offers a way of doing poetry that can speak to one and all. Nightlights is a thin book of poetry but once through the haiku doorway, a vast world of the soul, nature and society is revealed.

This is a book of poetry that will remain with me on the journey and does knit me to much that is essential to the core on the trail and off trial treks of life.

Ron Dart                                

Review of Brian Zahnd's 'Sinners in the Hands of a Loving God' - by Ron Dart

Brian Zahnd, Sinners in the Hands of a Loving God: The Scandalous Truth of the Very Good News (Waterbrook, 2017)

There has been a decided turn in the last decade by many from within this historic conservative evangelical tribe to a more nuanced read of the Bible, the Church Tradition and a serious questioning of Calvin and NeoCalvinism—Sinners in the Hands of a Loving God stands within such a line and lineage.

The title for this fast moving but reflective manifesto of sorts emerges from contra Jonathan Edwards “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God”. Obviously, the Puritanism of Edwards has done much to shape American Christianity and Brian Zahnd took in such a homily (and the broader exegetical and theological perspective for many years). Sinners in the Hands of a Loving God, wisely and discerningly so, clarifies in ten packed and incisive chapters, the dilemmas raised by a flat and questionable read of the Bible. The core question comes to this: how can a thoughtful reader and exegete of the Bible (and much of this compact beauty lingers in the Bible) make some coherent sense of, on the one hand, a God of Love and, on the other hand, the warrior God of the Old Testament, the penal theory of the atonement and eternal punishment for those who do not accept Christ in their short journey through time?

Zahnd, in a judicious manner, cuts to the quick in offering an alternate and Christocentric hermeneutic as a way of reading the Old Testament and problematic portions of the New Testament, particularly the ever contentious book of Revelation. Many of the more sophisticated Christian thinkers such Lewis, MacDonald, Girard, Wright, Peterson, Noll, Volf, Balthasar, Dostoevsky, Chrysostom, Kalomiros and Moltmann are called forth as witnesses as viable and substantive exegetes of the Bible than that of Edwards, Hal Lindsay or Bunyan’s The Groans of a Lost Soul.  Sinner in the Hands of a Loving is, in many ways, a hand in glove companion to Brad Jersak’s A More Christlike God: A More Beautiful Gospel (2015).

There can be no doubt that Zahnd takes the Bible with utmost seriousness, but he is troubled (as he should be) by an exegetical Sanhedrin of sorts that has reduced and restricted a way of reading the Bible that legitimates a warrior god, penal theory of the atonement and eternal punishment (plus a rather horrendous reading of Revelation) to those who do not explicitly accept Christ in this life. The burden of Zahnd (and many of the former conservative evangelical revisionist readers of the Bible) is, indeed, to proclaim from the Bible, the “very good news” and “more beautiful gospel”.  Zahnd has done this in a symphonic manner of sorts, and the orchestral sound of each chapter, unfolding each into the next, works its eternal compelling music into the longing soul. Do read and inwardly digest Sinners in the Hands of a Loving God—your approach to reading and applying the Bible will never be the same again.

Ron Dart         

A Walk through Paul's Letter to the Romans - Sean Davidson

A Walk through Paul's Letter to the Romans

(I wrote this on my journey to work this morning. It began with an effort to make sense of a difficult passage in the first chapter. It ended with something like a targum or paraphrase of the entire letter.)

There is no special identity that can save us, no privileged place to stand above the fray. We're all caught up in the great turning away, curving endlessly in on ourselves. But this isn't the end. God's tracked us down in his love. And he's gathered us to himself at the cross. Here, there's freedom to turn in faith and receive in joy. (Rom. 1-5)

Does freedom mean we can do whatever the hell we want? Short answer: no. Of course, we can, but why would we? At the cross, we've joined with Jesus in his death that we might rise up to share in his love. This isn't about following the rules more closely; that'll only tie us in knots. In good times and bad, it's about coming alive to the Spirit and walking in newness of life, anticipating the day when suffering and death will be no more. (Rom. 6-8)

Think of it: how amazing that salvation would come to unsuspecting outsiders through the failure of privileged insiders. This isn't cause for outsider pride. God continues to care for the insiders. And we're all being gathered in by grace alone. Let's seek to be faithful in a spirit of appreciation and deep gratitude. God's mercy is a wondrous thing. (Rom. 9-11)

So press into your calling. Open your life wide to God that you may be transformed through and through. And seek to give and receive in community, sharing God's love among friends and enemies alike. Don't be a zealot. Instead, keep awake in the dawning light, doing good wherever you can. (Rom. 12-13)

Also, remember to be kind to people not like you. There will be times of disagreement in community. Some will feel free to do what others believe is wrong. It's OK. Respect each other and walk in love. Liberals: avoid contempt. Conservatives: avoid judgment. Instead, look to Jesus and seek to build each other up despite your differences. And may the God of peace be with you. (Rom. 14-15)

Sojourn - Poem by Dominic Jersak

I have a memory from around when I was 4 or 5, It might have been a dream, a piece of media, or a powerful feeling I needed a name for, but I had this image of a child, lost far from home staying in a barn during a storm. Outside the barn is white with fog and raining and it’s sad, but it's safe and still for now. 

Sojourn

You are a long way from home
Your clothes are dripping and the bags under your eyes sag heavy
The fog is all encompassing, filling your surroundings with white

You are all alone in a barn
You sit on the hay floor facing the threshold of rainfall only a foot away
The percussion of the tin roof allows you to stop thinking about your breathing for a moment

You refuse to sleep in your bed
You roll over into the nest of clothing scattered over the ground
Each piece carries a familiar scent and excites your skin with a new texture

You are overcome with homesickness
You don't know whether you should keep your eyes open or not
Dusk comes and goes before you have a chance to notice, preoccupying yourself with memories slipping into dreams

The inside of your eyelids are red from the light of day
You orient yourself with the sounds of wind in the grass, on your skin, and from your lungs
You open your eyes