Clarion: Journal of Spirituality and Justice

Jim Forest’s “Ladder of the Beatitudes” & “Loving Our Enemies” – by Sarah Anderson

Analytical Review: Jim Forest’s “The Ladder of the Beatitudes” and “Loving Our Enemies” – by Sarah Anderson

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus details how undergoing an internal transformation moves us from poverty of spirit to become peacemakers, willing to undergo harm to themselves for the sake of love towards the enemy. The Jesus Way, laid out in the Beatitudes, is a way of living and being, not simply a checklist of behaviors. This embodiment of the Spirit allows for both the flourishing of the individual and the ushering in of a new kingdom, a kingdom of God that presents an alternative structure for society than the one we participate in now.

Jesus’ Program for the Individual Disciple

Jesus begins the Beatitudes addressing the crowds—not just the religious leaders/elite—suggesting this was meant for everyone (Ladder 15), and encouraging poverty of spirit. The Beatitudes consist of a sort of progression (Ladder 2), meaning that in order to fully embrace this Jesus Way, there are steps that serve as foundations and must be built upon in order to become fully transformed “little Christs.”

To begin with, poverty of spirit is similar to Step 1 in twelve-step recovery. Before recovery in any sense, there’s an acknowledgment of a problem, something we have to recover from. It’s a revelation of our lowliness and an acknowledgment of God’s largeness where we discover the central tenant of Jesus’ economy: the way up is down, and this wound is the means of healing. It diagnoses the problem while simultaneously offering a solution. Jesus knows in order to be transformed, first comes the awareness of needing to be transformed. From there, we mourn our brokenness, while hungering for the virtues of God’s kingdom, working towards displaying mercy towards even those who have mal intent towards us. But even this is not the final objective.

Forest writes, “we would do well to pray not only for the conversation of our adversaries but for our own conversation. We ourselves may be harder to convert than our adversaries. The most needed conversion may be my own” (LOE 98). In this way, the ladder of the beatitudes and progression of the individual disciple is more circular than a straight line. We end where we begin. In praying for our enemy, we are exposed anew to the problem of ourselves, a need for change in our own heart that feels even more pressing than a change in the other. Back to poverty of spirit, to begin the journey of blessedness through the Jesus Way again. 

Ultimately the program for individual disciples is rooted in the tension of existence: potential for transformation coupled with deeply rooted resistance to it. But Jesus reminds us that when we recognize the lack in ourselves, while moving towards acknowledging the blessedness of others, a new kingdom is ushered in, transforming the human experience.

Essential Components of the Jesus Way

The Jesus Way invites us towards mercy, instead of vengeance (Ladder 34), insisting on “tender lovingkindness” (Ladder 79) and not just mercy in the judicial sense.  In addition, our capacity for mercy is directly related to an awareness of our capacity for evil (Ladder 82). In other words, our showing of mercy soon becomes a display of self-righteousness if it isn’t also coupled with an understanding of how often we too need mercy because of our wronging of others. Partnered to this fundamental self-awareness, the Jesus Way also embodies a respect of the Other, and a malleability of our spirits to respond to the other with God’s patience and kindness (Ladder 35). It requires presence with Christ (not just admiration) and a sensitivity to the griefs of the world—or “repentant mourning” (Ladder 42). Meekness as mentioned in the Beatitudes is essential to this Jesus Way, but not as being equivalent to weakness. Instead, meekness is “making choices and exercising power with a divine rather than a societal reference point” (Ladder 49), in addition to a hunger for righteousness, or rightness by God’s standard—versus a hunger for virtues of the world. A spirit of integrity—or integrated whole—is represented with a pure spirit; one that refuses the scapegoat mentality. This is a practice to participate in and not simply a decision to make.

Fundamentally, the Jesus way is characterized by kenosis—a self-emptying that proceeds a divine pouring out.

The Jesus Way in Societal Renewal

Jesus’ talk of the Kingdom of God was centered in a “here and now” understanding.

Forest points out the intentionality of the Beatitudes saying “...for theirs is the kingdom”. The kingdom belongs to the poor in spirit now; renewal is possible in this moment, not just in a future a heavenly kingdom.

Societal renewal begins with a poverty of spirit on the cultural level, acknowledging where our systems and structures are lacking, and grieving how they have hurt and destabilized the most vulnerable around us. Forest writes, hungering and thirsting for righteousness means responding to “the real world with all of its fear, pain, bloodstains, to be a rescuer, to protect the
defenseless, to participate here and now in God’s righteousness.” (Ladder 69). Societal renewal means to not gloss over the brokenness of the world with shallow platitudes, dismiss the injustices of the world as “just the way it is”, and simply imagine God’s kingdom as just a “slightly improved version of the world we already have.” (Ladder 112). Rather, a societal renewal is a deep engagement with the reality of brokenness and a transformative change to a new way of being. It is not trite nor necessarily tranquil, but an upending of structures used to uphold power structures that reward aggression, in exchange for more thoughtful engagement.

Jesus’ program for social renewal is dependent on the humanizing of the people in the categories our politics and culture have made caricatures or monolithic narratives out of. When He says, “Blessed are the merciful,” Jesus envisions the potential for real peace by extending kindness to those (groups and nations, not just individuals) who might wish us harm, imagining what might be if the lines of difference ceased to work as barriers and instead as invitations to lean in. It means extending aid to countries after natural disasters—even those we might see as adversaries (LOE 101, 103); it means refusing to reduce human deaths to the term of “collateral damage”; it means acknowledging the spiral effect of violence that often leads to more and more damage and increasing destruction for those on both sides; it means a “holy disobedience” to the laws or systems that declare only one (violent) way of being in the world (LOE 156). The Jesus Way of societal renewal asks that we no longer make decisions out of fear of other, but love for the Other, refusing to see difference as liability, but an opportunity to see the image of Christ where we least expect it.

But even then, no societal change is long-term, and the process is incomplete if there is no individual transformation too (LOA 126). As Forest quotes Sister Rosemary Lynch, “even if nuclear weapons were abolished, unless we diffuse the bombs in our own hearts, the human family is quite capable of finding other even worse means of destroying life.” (Ladder 121)

Enemy-Love and Taking Up Your Cross

Forest describes an enemy as “anyone I feel threatened by and seek to defend myself against” (LOE 18). In this light, to love my enemy is to pray for their flourishing, a change in my enemy’s heart. But to do that is to make oneself vulnerable—with no guarantee for change or of being loved back. It’s an exposure to potential death—literally or figuratively—doing so knowing the highest aim as followers of Jesus is not preservation of life, but demonstration of love at all costs. Enemy love in its very nature is a death as it is taking up the cross of death to self, ego, rights, and a need to be right. It is imitating Jesus in his willingness to die, so we might ensure love—not retribution or violence towards the other—gets the final word. 

Conclusion

Like so much of Jesus’ teaching, the ideas highlighted in the Beatitudes feel paradoxical and contradictory. And maybe if all we were trying to do was follow them as a checklist to be moved through, rather than a way of life, it would be impossible. But the Beatitudes represent a journey of inner transformation, growing self-awareness, and acknowledgment of our deeply held enmity towards the other, that can be transformed into prayer for and love towards the very people or groups who may seek to harm us. Jesus isn’t suggesting “niceness” or glib responses to real pain and challenging realities.

He is requiring an internal awakening to our need for change, a hungering and thirsting for a rightness in the world that God envisioned in its creation, before taking on the task of trying to change the world around us. And yet, as impossible as it sounds, Jesus suggests this kingdom way of life is possible for here and now, accessible in every interaction with those we see as an enemy or an affront to us.

On the Great Flood (2021) - Bradley Jersak

ON THE GREAT FLOOD (2021)

In retrospect, documentaries may call it ‘the Great Submersion’ or ‘the Sumas Prairie Deluge.’ It has already been identified as the most costly natural disaster in Canadian history. I’m referring to the catastrophic flooding that we have experienced around my city (Abbotsford, BC) through the final week of November 2021. After high winds and a historic downpour across southern BC (our November monthly rainfall fell in under 48 hours), rising waters either submerged or shattered all the highways out of the port of Vancouver, cutting off supply chains to the interior.

Locally, the Nooksack River in Washington State overflowed and gushed north into Canada, and has spread east as far as Chilliwack, BC. The torrents knocked out major dikes and turned Sumas Prairie into a giant lake.

I’m writing from my home, grateful that my house is dry, our power is on, and our cupboards are full. We live just a few blocks up the hill from the huge evacuation zone and were personally spared. But we’re wringing our hands and grieving with friends and family whose homes, barns, and farms have been overwhelmed and damaged, now only accessible by boat. So I wanted to post this blog for the sake of those who’ve been worrying, praying and asking about us. We’re okay. Others are not.

A FEW WORDS ABOUT NATURAL DISASTERS

     Natural disasters are not 100% natural

When you hear about a natural disaster, there’s often more to the story—a human angle worth examining. For example, until a century ago, Sumas Prairie had been Sumas Lake, formed by receding glaciers about 8000 years ago. The Sema:th peoples settled around the lake as early as 400 BC, and a large community still lived there in the 1840s. The tribe lived in a symbiotic relationship with the environment, adjusting to its constantly shifting shoreline, and harvesting a wide range of fish and wildlife by net fishing and traps.

Then came European homesteaders, who began claiming the region for themselves, immigrating in large numbers in the early 1900s. They didn’t like Sumas Lake’s swampy wetlands, frequent floods, and mosquitoes. But they saw great potential for ultra-fertile farmland by creating dikes and pumping out the water. Patrick Penner (Abbotsford News) writes, “Sumas Lake was drained and the Vedder canal was built in the early 1920s, using a pump station to divert the lake’s in-flowing rivers for irrigation and allowing European farmers to access the fertile soil. It was described as an engineering marvel at the time.”

That farmland became the most fruitful in the nation. Tulip fields, berry orchards, and vegetable crops produce an Eden-like abundance. Amid the crops, the valley floor is dotted with barns—home to thousands of cattle, pigs, and millions of birds (chickens and turkeys). The area is a massive source and supplier of produce for human consumption.

The downside is that when you try to impose the human will upon the environment instead of living within its limits and rhythms, risks need to be assessed and blowback during extreme climate conditions is inevitable. In that sense, it’s the conditions we construct and the risks we take that cause the disaster. It does no good to shame or blame the visionary builders or current inhabitants. I have beloved friends and family members who’ve made their lives and livelihoods in that space. And I’ve enjoyed the fruit of their labor and generosity. What I feel is empathy. We grieve with them as they face loss and devastation, and we’ll work together to repair the damage and restore normalcy.

That said, an important footnote: when we describe the current flooding as a natural disaster, it’s also important to pause and consider how, for the First Nations people, the initial catastrophe was actually the loss of their land, lake, and livelihood (without consultation or compensation). I take this moment to gratefully acknowledge that I live in the traditional and unceded territory of the Stó:lō people.

     Natural disasters are not ‘acts of God.’

You may be familiar with the fineprint on insurance forms that exempts insurance companies from compensating homeowners due to ‘acts of God’—e.g., earthquakes, tornadoes, floods, etc. Those who live in flood plains or on fault lines may still be able to obtain insurance but only at much higher premiums and deductibles. That makes sense. No argument here. But I’d like to push back at the theology for a moment.

The belief that God sends the cataclysmic ‘forces of nature’ to demolish human civilizations is an ancient worldview, founded on the assumption that God is the all-powerful cause who micromanages the universe. And the Bible will often present that impression, even though it does so poetically more than the biblical literalists realize. But still, the language of Scripture does ‘go there’ at times, describing God as directly responsible—the one who ‘sends’ floods or droughts or plagues or enemy armies. And this worldview persists to this day—not only assigning hurricanes, tsunamis, and pandemics to the will of God, but actually imagining that God is their architect. And since God is righteous, just, and holy, he would only unleash his death-dealing ‘acts of God’ as punishment for evildoers. The next step is for the righteous people to determine who the evildoers are and to begin pointing the accusing finger of blame.

Jesus simply didn’t see it that way. In Luke 13, he denies that you can determine whether one is righteous or unrighteous by whether a building collapses on some and not on others. In John 9, he denies that you can assume someone’s sin (one’s own or their parents) is the cause of a disability or disease. It doesn’t work that way. Then how does it work?

I would propose the following: God is ultimately responsible for all of creation as its Creator. That is, behind natural law and human freedom is the God who created all things and in whom they live, move, and have their being. Natural law submits to its own design and humanity exercises its freedom. God doesn’t micromanage gravity nor does he inhibit human agency. We call these ‘secondary causes.’ God ‘consents’ to these secondary causes, even while participating in them by grace through willing human partners who image (verb) God’s care for the world and for one another.

To use an analogy, the manufacturer of a car is ultimately responsible for producing the vehicle, but if the vehicle malfunctions through misuse or there is a crash through driver error, the manufacturer is not directly to blame for the crash unless proof of culpability is established. If we transpose that picture to the natural world, yes, God is ultimately responsible … and ultimately good, because through natural law, God has created the conditions for life. And through human freedom, God has created the conditions for love. But the shadow side of nature is that which makes space for life can also take life (such as this flood). And the shadow side of human freedom is that it can turn from love. But in the midst of the rubble, God is with us. The calamities we experience are NOT signs of divine abandonment. Rather, God is with us in our mess, embodied especially in those who serve and help and rescue. As I’m writing this, I can hear rescue helicopters flying overhead, on their way to deliver help to those who need it. I’m aware of those operating excavators, trying to repair the breach in the dike. I can hear sirens, getting emergency aid to someone a few miles from my home. Others are racing between homes and farms in their boats, assessing damage so we know what’s needed next. The military is here with hundreds of other volunteers, walking the dikes, shoring up weaknesses against the flood. They are all extending themselves as real caregivers, some well beyond the call of duty.

And that, I would argue, is a real act of God.

Semá:th X̱ó:tsa: Sts'ólemeqwelh Sx̱ó:tsa (Great Gramma's Lake) - The Reach Gallery Museum

“Semá:th X̱ó:tsa: Sts'ólemeqwelh Sx̱ó:tsa (Great Gramma's Lake)" is a children’s book published by The Reach Gallery Museum, in collaboration with Stó:lō partners, that tells the story of the draining of Sumas Lake from an Indigenous perspective.

First Nations Version - Indigenous Translation of the NT

Announcing: “First Nations Version An Indigenous Translation of the New Testament”:

Wayne Northey: The Lord's Prayer in this version is beautiful! Please view its reading below. A few sample passages follow the video. I'm excited to read the Story afresh through First Nations People on Turtle Island, who have suffered so much—and that suffering continues!—under us White Settlers.

 

Excerpt:

The Great Spirit loves this world of human beings so deeply he gave us his Son—the only Son who fully represents him. All who trust in him and his way will not come to a bad end, but will have the life of the world to come that never fades—full of beauty and harmony. Creator did not send his Son to decide against the people of this world, but to set them free from the worthless ways of the world.

John 3:16-17

Love is patient and kind. Love is never jealous. It does not brag or boast. It is not puffed up or big-headed. Love does not act in shameful ways, nor does it care only about itself. It is not hot-headed, nor does it keep track of wrongs done to it. Love is not happy with lies and injustice, but truth makes its heart glad. Love keeps walking even when carrying a heavy load. Love keeps trusting, never loses hope, and stands firm in hard times. The road of love has no end.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8

Many First Nations tribes communicate with the cultural and linguistic thought patterns found in their original tongues. The First Nations Version (FNV) recounts the Creator’s Story—the Christian Scriptures—following the tradition of Native storytellers’ oral cultures. This way of speaking, with its simple yet profound beauty and rich cultural idioms, still resonates in the hearts of First Nations people.

The FNV is a dynamic equivalence translation that captures the simplicity, clarity, and beauty of Native storytellers in English, while remaining faithful to the original language of the New Testament. Whether you are Native or not, you will experience the Scriptures in a fresh and new way.

Please click on: First Nations Version of the New Testament

Antigone & the Vaccine Polarization - Ron Dart

Whose God? Deconstructing False Images (from Irenaeus to C.S. Lewis) - Ron Dart & Bradley Jersak

C.S. Lewis & the Last Battle: Whose Version of Aslan (God)? 
by Ron Dart

Of Heretics, Kings & Foxes
by Bradley Jersak

“The Sex Offender as Scapegoat” - Vigilante Violence and a Faith Community Response - by Hugh Kirkegaard & Wayne Northey

John 12:20 – 33; John 11:49-52:

49But one of them, named Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, “You know nothing at all! 50You do not realize that it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish.”

51Caiaphas did not say this on his own. Instead, as high priest that year, he was prophesying that Jesus would die for the nation,52and not only for the nation, but also for the scattered children of God, to gather them together into one.

Wayne Northey: The above is the classic scapegoating text in the New Testament. You will learn much about scapegoating by reading on.

It was my longstanding friend and colleague Hugh Kirkegaard (currently (2021) and for some years Director of Chaplaincy, Correctional Services Canada, Atlantic Region) who inspired and co-authored this paper; and had worked closely in Toronto with B. O. He arranged for CSC funding for us to attend the COV&R (Colloquium on Violence and Religion) Conference at Emory University, Atlanta in 1999, where we presented on what was turned into the paper highlighted below.

You know nothing at all! You do not realize that it is better for you that one man die for the people than that the whole nation perish.—Caiaphas

It has been translated, published in anthologies, and referenced numerous times since, thanks to the power of René Girard’s insights on scapegoating. The original paper is still on the Emory University COV&R ’99 website here.

CLICK HERE to continue

 

“One of Us” – Simone Weil, Christianity for the Spectrum - Brad Jersak

“One of Us” – Simone Weil, A Christianity for the Spectrum

I’m a doctor, but not that kind. I am a theologian, not a medical professional. I can't diagnose diseases or disorders. But having been immersed for sixteen years in a fellowship that was uniquely comprised of people who lived with a range of disabilities,* I can’t help but notice correlations between Simone Weil and our friends on the autistic spectrum. Her savant-level genius, her supernatural capacity for attention (hyper-focus), and her socio-relational awkwardness are obvious features of her journals, her letters, and biographical descriptions about her. There’s an appropriate reluctance among Weil scholars to make retroactive medical diagnoses. But what I can say for sure is that within the autistic community itself, there's agreement and recognition that she is “one of us.”

It is inconsequential to me whether or not Weil experts come to the same conclusion. Many still have trouble admitting she suffered from an obvious, lifelong eating disorder. Fine.

But of supreme importance is how Simone Weil makes Christianity accessible to autistic people. I learned this today from someone on the spectrum whose life and faith have depended on this gift. So often, the way Christianity is communicated is alienating to people with autism, and this fellow (Jonathan) was able to tell me why.

He described the language, proclamation, and expectations of neurotypical Christianity as bathed in abstract, feelings-based, social-relation concepts. For us to expect autistic people to feel and relate to an abstract God or an invisible Jesus as someone who loves them is totally alien. They simply cannot love a conceptual Saviour. Autistic people are de facto excluded by our version of spiritualized divine relationality. Such a Christianity cannot be for them.

But along comes Simone Weil. She doesn’t talk that way. She transposes our vacuous and often syrupy romantic notions of divine love into something profoundly tangible and incarnate. For her, Christianity includes real, embodied encounters where love means attention and attention is prayer. But as with many in the autistic community, Weil seems unable to meaningfully relate this love to another person on the register of [mere] feelings. Rather, love-as-attention relates to her own intense, internal sense of justice—right and wrong, what is fair and what is not. Hence her strong sense of binaries and genius for contraries.

In addition to attention, love for Weil (and autistic people) means compassion. But again, not in the sense of ‘feeling sympathy.’ Even the word empathy is too elusive, so long as we define empathy as “the capacity to feel what another feels.” That notion is still far too fleeting and vacuous, according to Jonathan. Rather, he defined compassion for me specifically as understanding that someone is suffering and choosing to do something about it—maybe even needing to do something about it. And such an understanding might transform my own sense of empathy into actual choices, where I am compelled to stand in active solidarity with those who suffer. So it was for Weil, even to a fault.

Thus, 'love' is enacted as attention and compassion on a concrete experiential plane, unfiltered by particular social paradigms but experienced through affliction. Compassion, in Weil's writings, is never sentimental. It is a real response of attention to affliction and injustice, which is what it means to “take up your cross and follow.” In that case, Weil and our autistic friends don't just see the world differently through some disadvantaged syndrome. Rather, they are prophets, issuing a call to repent from every saccharine spirituality that evades the fleshy expectations of Christ in Matthew 25 and his parable of the judgment of sheep and goats. Simone Weil, patron saint of the autistic community, and Christ himself strip away neurotypical constructs to unveil the essence of Christian faith.

Christians who are able to confess their faith as an abstraction—or cite the creeds as a dogmatic distraction—while being fully willing to turn off compassion, turn away from attention, or participate in worldly death-dealing, expose that form of Christianity as incoherent. Such Christianity doesn’t interact with the world in any meaningful way. Weil saw this and said so. So did Tolstoy (also assumed by some to be autistic).

I asked my new friend what Jesus' phrase “take up your cross and follow me” meant to him, certain that he was incapable of holding that essential Christian calling in an abstract way. He said, “No, it’s not abstract at all. To take up the cross and follow Jesus means for me (1) a personal prohibition on wealth (I can't make enough to exploit others or little enough to be a burden on others), (2) explicit devotion of time and attention to other people, (3) and willingness to take on pain and suffering for the other.” Only in that way does Christianity make sense to him and his autistic network. I thought, maybe it’s only in that way that Christianity makes sense, period. YES, said that way, he really sounds exactly like Simone Weil. And more, Weil sounds a whole LOT more like Jesus. And I thought to myself, "Sign me up. This is a faith worth living."

*Note: Not all people on the autistic spectrum would identify themselves as suffering from a disability or disorder. Many, including Simone Weil, might better describe their autism as "an adaptive common variant pathway of human functional brain development."

"End Abuse" Programs - Wayne Northey

Esther, my partner, and I have been hugely privileged to have been connected to the End Abuse Programs for many years: Esther since 2009. She co-facilitates groups of women in Phase Two at the MCCBC Office (33933 Gladys Avenue, Abbotsford–all Phases are for 10 weeks), and a Respectful Relationships for Survivors of Trauma Program in Fraser Valley Institution (FVI) for the same duration as above. There have been multiple contracts through MCCBC for the latter.

Together we have facilitated the Home Improvement Program for Men: 15-week sessions, two a year, since 2017.

The video below was done by University of the Fraser Valley students. We all feel it is excellent! They could not access women in the federal prison. Many have told the facilitators that it has been life-giving.

 

Wayne Northey's "IVAN ILLICH Discussion Group" with David Cayley

Portal to Wayne Northey's IVAN ILLICH discussion group with David Cayley:

 

David Cayley is introduced on this website here.

 

This summer, he consented to meet with a group of us on Zoom, to discuss his new book on Ivan Illich.

An epigraph in the book above goes:

On the table . . . there is always a candle? Why?
Because the text that shaped my understanding
was . . . a treatise on spiritual friendship by the
twelfth-century abbot Aelred of Rievaulx . . . It
begins with the words “Here we are, you and I, and,
I hope, also a third who is Christ.” If you consider
his meaning carefully, you understand that it could
be Christ in the form of Brother Michael. In other
words, our conversation should always go on with
the certainty that there is somebody else who will
knock at the door, and the candle stands for him or
her. It is a constant reminder that the community is
never closed.–Ivan Illich

Further commentary on this and the book’s genesis is on page 9:

On December 2, 2002, he died in Bremen. I proceeded with what I had and, in 2005, published The Rivers North of the Future: The Testament of Ivan Illich.

The origins of the present book lie in that one. What I dared to call Illich’s testament—a name some thought presumptuous—was at the same time something vulnerable, exigent, and unfinished. There were reasons, after all, why Illich had maintained his discreet silence on the subject of the Church for so long, reasons why only his trust in me had finally allowed him, as he put it, to “stammer … what I have avoided saying for thirty years.” At various points he speaks of what he is telling me as no more than a “hypothesis” or, again, as a set of “possible research themes.” What I had asked for asked something of me in turn. A hypothesis needs testing; research themes need to be followed up. When Illich completed his “stammered” testament in 1997, he said, “I leave it in your hands to make sure that my intention … of speaking in gratitude and fidelity to the one behind this candle, which is burning here while I’m talking to you, was not a betrayal of his touching tenderness but a truthful statement, chosen once in my life.” The one behind the candle was always, finally, Christ. His charge was weighty, and in the intervening years, I have felt its insistent weight, even if with gratitude. With this book I offer my answer. In its pages I try to see Illich whole—understanding his various beginnings in the light of what he said to me at the end—and I try to say what I think the example of his life and thought means for our time. 

One participant is author Marcus Peter Rempel. His book, Life at the End of Us Versus Them: Cross Culture Stories, powerfully applies both the thought of Ivan Illichand René Girard in telling his stories.

Marcus also is a singer-songwriter. In part inspired by Ivan Illich, in response to the death of a good friend, in the season of falling leaves, Marcus explains how he came to compose the following, gently-meditative song, Conspiratio:

NOTE: A clickable list of many Illich resources is here. The new Ivan Illich series of publications is here. David Cayley’s is the second of the series.

You may also appreciate the following excellent interview by noted theologian William T. Cavanaugh¹, October 2021, recorded at the Center for World Catholicism & Intercultural Theology, by clicking here. Cayley addresses amongst other issues what Illich’s response to the Pandemic might have been.

Zoom Recordings:

September 28, 2021

Much of this was discussing Illich as priest, his wanderer lifestyle, his formation, his relationship to David and genesis of recorded discussions and books with/by/about him.

October 26, 2021

Much of this was David’s discussing Illich and the Church: his faithfulness to, but variance from it; eventual cessation of performing duties as a priest; but perhaps consequently making the world his parish. Hebrews 11:4b reads:

. . . and by [faith] he being dead yet speaketh. (KJV)

Please also see Ivan Illich’s The Powerless Church and Other Selected Writings, 1955–1985.

 

 

https://waynenorthey.com/2021/11/02/ivan-illich-an-intellectual-journey-discussion-group-with-david-cayley/