Clarion: Journal of Spirituality and Justice

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Institute for Religion, Peace and Justice (St. Stephen's University) – Join us in 2020/21! from IRPJ on Vimeo.

The Institute for Religion, Peace and Justice (St. Stephen's University) is accepting applications for our online, six-course, accredited Certificate program for the fall 2020 semester. This program can be completed in eight months and is for *any* curious and thoughtful person who wants to integrate spiritual and theological considerations with practical peace work, nonviolent activism, peacemaking, and advocacy for either personal enrichment and knowledge acquisition or professional enhancement.

The Certificate is a stand-alone credential that can enhance one's preparation and experience for use in organizations that focus on peace and humanitarian work, including NGOs and non-profits, and as a professional development upgrade.

The Certificate is also a professional enhancement credential for clergy who want to guide their church community in the ways of peace and justice spiritually, theologically, and practically.

For more information, visit irpj.org/certificate To check your eligibility and to apply, visit irpj.org/admissions The Certificate program can also be completed as the online Peace Studies Track of SSU's M.A. or M.Min in Theology & Culture. For more information on this, visit irpj.org/graduate-degrees If you have any questions, please feel free to contact our director, Dr. Andrew Klager — andrewklager@ssu.ca. Or you may wish to visit our FAQs page: irpj.org/faq

Q & R with Andrew Klager - How do we understand God's love & the "bowls of wrath"?

Question

How we can understand the later chapters of Revelation (15-17 for example) where John is shown the bowls of wrath, etc. How does this fit with our understanding of a loving God who is not wrathful?

Response

I'm not an expert on Revelation, but I have two connected thoughts on reading the passages related to responsibility and causation (which are possibly the two dynamics necessary to untangle when interpreting what is meant by divine wrath):

1. The wrath poured from the bowls seem more a revelation of the "wrath" embedded in our systems and underpinning human failings (that's what the symbols reflect anyway). The third bowl (vv.4–7) is, for example, revealing the bloodshed from our human violence ("...because they shed the blood of saints and prophets...") that is so excessive it flows into our streams and rivers. 

2. The wrath poured from the sixth bowl calls into question a literal divine causation, since if we contend that God causes the evil of the king, he must also have been the cause behind the demonic spirits in v. 14. We rightly have a difficult time attributing divine causation to evil spirits or demons, but for some odd reason are okay with divine causation of evil people.

The real tension in terms of causation and responsibility that's difficult to resolve occurs in Rev. 17:17, but of course, those who favour retributive justice and violence must take into consideration their own internal logical tension between the apparent divine causation that would absolve any evil king (or anyone) of responsibility, thus calling into question whether they have any actual guilt that warrants our retribution.

 

Richard Bauckham also offers the following in his The Theology of the Book of Revelation:

"The judgments of chapters 16–19 are primarily aimed at destroying the systems — political, economic and religious — which oppose God and his righteousness and which are symbolized by the beast, the false prophet, Babylon, and the kings of the earth. But those who support these systems, who persist in worshipping the beast, heeding neither the call to worship God nor the threat to those who worship the beast (14:6–11), evidently must perish with the evil systems with which they have identified themselves." (Bauckham, p.102)

Bauckham also writes of the grace of warnings in the progressively severe judgments from the seal-openings affecting a quarter of the earth, the trumpets affecting a third, and the bowls finally offering total destruction. I would, along with Bauckham, suggest that these are progressive warnings that the systems that humans created, are entangled in, and experience — the wrath reflected in the progressive severity of our systems that escalate until total self-annihilation. This description is also with that caveat from Bauckham that "the highly schematized portrayal of the judgments depicts their theological significance. It cannot be meant as a literal prediction of events."

 

Since the focus and target of wrath are the political, economic, and religious systems, it is ultimately the systems that destroy those entangled in them ... especially since it's these same systems that ultimately targeted the slain Lamb. His death was caused by these expressions of death in order for him to access death and ultimately destroy death.

 

But ultimately, I would suggest that the repentance that these expressions of judgment are meant to induce are warnings for those of us who also need to repent (all of us) — i.e., cultivate an inner transformation or change in our nous — of our allegiance and entanglement in these same systems, systems that compel us to read these passages irresponsibly as justifications for our own violence in this world based on a skewed understanding of God's character. An inner transformation is always needed as our posture to the text.

 

I would recommend Bauckham's entire book as well as Gorman's Reading Revelation Responsibly, but especially the section, "Divine Holiness in Judgment" (pp. 40ff.) in Bauckham's book and Chapter 8 in Gorman's book. Bauckham especially connects this wrath/judgment to God's holiness and worship in ch. 4 and Is. 6 as necessarily and ineluctably overwhelming all evil and death in the world; this "judgment" is therefore a (super)"natural" consequence of the juxtaposition between God's holiness and our participation in death, much like judgment as Light in Jn. 3.

Four Tips for Keeping It Together in Contentious Situations — Andrew Klager

As I began my commute by car to work one morning last week, I made a deliberate decision to pay closer attention to my inner dialogue and the impatience and frustration that often bubbles up when I contend with traffic that’s moving slower than I’d like. I would characterize myself as a zippier and more assertive driver than most, and how I respond to the traffic around me is often my go-to barometer for how I’m doing spiritually, emotionally, and psychologically. In this unexpected spell of intentionality, I — I’m slightly embarrassed to admit — even came up with my own private make-believe (and funny to me but nobody else) campaign called the “NMO (Not Mad Once) Campaign” complete with its own hashtag (#NotMadOnce), in which I challenged myself not to get mad even once during my long commute.

Our wandering minds in these situations can hold a lot of power over us if we let them. They lack intentionality and a purposeful trajectory and are instead at the mercy of the deeply planted cacophony of cultural and social instructions that make up our day-to-day lives. But it’s our wandering minds and the thoughts and our decisions in life that we mistake for our true selves that often get us into the most trouble. These are, or should be, the targets of transformation.

Although I teach and write on the inner transformation of a peacemaker and am well-versed in contemplative theology and acknowledge its profound importance, I’ve been slipping in this department in my day-to-day life lately (I often have the line of the late Robin Williams’ character, Sean Maguire, from the movie, Good Will Hunting, running through in my head in these moments: “I teach this shit, I didn’t say I know how to do it.”). My lower-than-normal attentiveness to my inner life lately may have to do with several life challenges that have distracted me the past number of months, and perhaps the stress applied by these circumstances has temporarily (hopefully) shifted my priorities and compelled me to set aside what I’ve long viewed as indispensable.

Whatever the case, it appears that my deeper self was somehow jolted out of its stupor in a moment of clarity and inspiration to actually try again to follow through with what I teach and therefore normally deem vital. And so as I maneuvered down the freeway that morning last week, I isolated four practical tips for myself to implement in those moments of frustration that can easily breed pride, impatience, anger, intemperance, envy, vengefulness, grudge-holding, violence, and other passions and vices.

“Bethlehem has opened Eden: come, let us see” — Andrew Klager

“Bethlehem has opened Eden: come, let us see.” (Orthodox Kontakion of the Nativity)

After his brief historiographical preamble, St. Luke begins his gospel account in verse 5 with, “In the time of Herod king of Judea…” and his account of Jesus’ birth with, “In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria).” These are signals that the birth of Christ will take on political dimensions as alternatives to this world’s political status quo.

Our confidence in empire today is only a continuation of the worship of empire in the time when Jesus was born.

The world’s political status quo in first-century Palestine tried to kill the new meek and humble king whose birth was meant to usher in the kingdom of God. And when the world’s political status quo tried to arrest him as an adult, he refused to call down his legions of angels to defeat his enemies, he told Peter to put away his sword when he tried to rescue Jesus through violence, and he told Pontius Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world. If it were, my servants would fight to prevent my arrest by the Jewish leaders. But now my kingdom is from another place” (Jn. 18:36). And before he forgave his executioners while hanging on the cross, he told us to take up our own crosses too as, in the words of St. Paul, citizens of heaven (Phil 3:20).

Or put in today’s nomenclature, the political status quo tried to kill a new meek and humble President whose birth was meant to usher in a new country founded on divine virtues that permeates the world while transcending its political borders and machinations. He has no military at all and dissolves any militias that his wayward followers try to assemble to protect him and his country. And he tells us to participate in this new peaceable and compassionate divine country as citizens who inherit the earth through meekness and who eschew violence of any kind.

Bethlehem has invited us into Eden; the new Adam born of the new Eve has invited us out of the world whose political priorities and standards have Adam and Eve’s fear, pride, and disobedience as their foundation.

Christ is born! Glorify Him!

 

The Perisson Podcast with Andrew Klager and Jarrod McKenna – Donna Mulhearn : The being before doing

Be sure to subscribe on iTunes and leave a review.

And consider joining The Perisson Podcast's community on Patreon.

And since The Perisson Podcast is a production of the Institute for Religion, Peace and Justice, be sure to check out IRPJ's entirely online Certificate program that addresses many of the same themes as this podcast.

 

Institute for Religion, Peace and Justice - "This Just In" - Annual Newsletter

Dear friends, stakeholders, and others who are along for the ride!

It’s been one year since the Institute for Religion, Peace and Justice (St. Stephen’s University) launched on June 9, 2017. A lot has happened since then. A new Institute such as ours is confronted with challenges and opportunities, and we’ve been active in 2017/18 in many ways to continue our vision. But perhaps more importantly, we’ve been taking action to set us up well for future years to come.

The Institute for Religion, Peace and Justice wants to position itself as the purveyor of a well-designed, neatly packaged, one-stop curricular destination especially for Christians who want professional development, personal enrichment, or preparation for further studies in peace-related academic fields. These could be anyone from the thoughtful layperson to professional clergy, peace and development workers or aspiring theologians.

In an increasingly polarized political and cultural landscape, IRPJ is trying to become a refuge of intentional hospitality. This is the model we have used and continue to use when carrying out our many activities.

Without further ado, attached are a few of the highlights!

 

Download THIS JUST IN – IRPJ's annual newsletter (June 2018)

The Perisson Podcast: Andrew Klager and Jarrod McKenna interview Brian Zahnd

Andrew Klager and Jarrod Saul McKenna's interview of Brian Zahnd is now up and running on iTunes HERE. 

For those not on iTunes: CLICK HERE

#ThePerissonPodcast

The Perisson Podcast webpage: www.irpj.org/podcast

“In the kingdom of Christ, it’s not obtaining Caesar’s sword in order to do what we think is good with it. It’s a complete renunciation of it.” —Brian Zahnd

Episode 1: In our first episode, we're joined by Brian Zahnd to discuss his pilgrimage into a life that embraces nonviolence and love of enemies. And we look at the dynamic of inner and outer peace, or how the contemplative life and inner transformation informs our peacemaking actions and the way that we work for justice.

Recorded 8 May 2018

“Me a Sinner” – A Jesus Prayer Conversation – Brad Jersak and Andrew Klager

 

The Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner.”

“When we identify ourselves as sinners, we are not speaking ontologically. That is, we are not speaking of our truest selves seated with Christ in the heavenly realms or as those declared righteous by his saving work. Rather, we are speaking existentially of our daily struggle with the passions and the human condition. We are facing into the reality of life in this broken world and our not-yet glorified humanity, posturing ourselves for God's unfailing mercy.” --Sinner Irenaeus

BRAD:

When we say the Jesus Prayer, some Evangelicals balk that we would identify as sinners, since we’ve been forgiven and are now, somehow, ontologically in Christ and identified as ‘saints.’ But clearly we keep on sinning and need to receive daily mercy.

So I am wondering what word you would use to fill in this blank: “When we identify ourselves as sinners, we are not speaking ontologically. We are speaking __________ of our daily struggle with the passions and the human condition. We are speaking not of our truest selves seated with Christ in the heavenly realms or as those declared righteous by his saving work. Rather, we are facing into the reality of life in this world and our not-yet glorified humanity.”

That is, we identify ourselves with the prodigal (Luke 15:11-32), publican (Luke 18:9-14)and the thief on the cross (Luke 23:39-43), awake to our need for mercy and gratefully receiving that mercy from Christ the all-merciful. 

They are worth recounting: 

• “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and I am no longer worthy to be called your son."
• "God, be merciful to me a sinner!’
• “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

These prayers are sometimes downplayed or even scorned for their supposed "worm theology" (which, by the way, the Psalmist puts in the Messiah's mouth in Psalm 22:6). But they are not theological statements to be corrected--they are expressions of the human condition, cries of the stricken conscience, and appeals to the goodness and generosity of a gracious God.   

Note: not only did Christ commend these prayers--he actually composed two of them and answered all three of them.  

So I think the right word us “existentially” but wanted to run that and the whole sentence by you for quality control.

The Church Fathers on Death, Resurrection and the Four Elements — Andrew Klager

I’m always fascinated by what physical creation — or, as St. Gregory of Nyssa categorizes it, the sensible created realm — is trying to communicate to us and why it has the form, dimensions, spatiality, dynamics, and materials it has as opposed to other possible alternatives. Why are we limited by time and space, and why did God decide that these constraints should exist?

Many of the Church fathers and later Christian theologians took for granted the four elements that Empedocles identified as the fundamental components of the cosmos: earth, water, air, and fire. In St. John of Damascus’ ‘Philosophical Chapters,’ he writes, “In general, an element is that first thing from which something is made and to which it is ultimately reducible. In particular, however, an element is that of which a body is made and to which it is reducible — and such are fire, water, air, and earth.”[i] And St. Gregory Palamas tells us in the 14^th century that “the four elements out of which the world is fashioned balance one another equally, and that each of the elements has its own sphere, the size of which is proportionate to its density, as Aristotle also thinks.”[ii]

Although this relatively simplistic model has been supplanted by much more complex taxonomies in modern science, they still retain an observable foundational structure that — in the writings of many of the fathers — reveals an eternal truth that answers different questions than those that factual truths might satisfy. They help us contemplate the mysterious when science has dulled us to the mystery of the “natural” world through its materialistic explanations that, although helpful in many important ways, demystify the disturbing peculiarity of existence. The fathers help draw us back to this wonder.

Institute for Religion, Peace and Justice — Update on #GivingTuesday

Greetings, from the Institute for Religion, Peace and Justice!

 

As it has been more than half a year since IRPJ launched back in June, the purpose of this note is to update you on what IRPJ has been doing lately and to ask that you please consider three actions for us as you read through the list of our recent activities:

1. Spread the word about our online university accredited Certificate program and encourage folks you know who might be interested to apply: www.irpj.org/apply

 

2. Try to think of a few people you know who might be interested in supporting IRPJ financially and send this email to them with an encouragement that they give to us on this Giving Tuesday: www.irpj.org/donate

 

3. And please consider giving a donation of any amount to IRPJ yourself on this Giving Tuesday.

Here’s some of what we’ve been up to:

• Core faculty member, Dr. Brad Jersak, is busily developing his three courses — RS 3180: Peace and Violence in the New Testament, RS 3182: Peace and Violence in the Old Testament, and RS 3384: Wrath and the Problem of Evil — so that our online Certificate will be ready to receive students for fall 2018. 

• Director and core faculty member, Dr. Andrew Klager, is also developing two remaining courses — RS 3482: The Inner Transformation of a Peacemaker and Hist/RS 3582: Peace and Violence in Religious History — to fill out the rest of the Certificate along with the three courses he has already developed and currently teaches on peace theology and social justice; religion, peace and conflict; and practical nonviolence and peacebuilding.

• Along with its ongoing partnerships with the Orthodox Peace Fellowship, MARK Centre, and the School of Peace Theology, IRPJ has forged a new partnership with Holy Land Trust in Bethlehem and with Christian Peacemaker Teams. We are also in preliminary talks with Travis Reed of The Work of the People about a partnership that will allow us to make use of their expansive video library at a reduced subscription rate and produce new videos that are purpose-specific to IRPJ’s initiatives and curriculum.

• IRPJ is now ready to receive applications for the fall 2018 semester, with the entrance point for student applications here: www.irpj.org/apply

• As a supplement to the online presence of Clarion Journal of Spirituality and Justice, we are also developing a print-on-demand hardcopy format of this same journal that will include the best-of-the-best from the website and a few new articles exclusive to the hardcopy journal. The goal is to make sure this hardcopy journal has a distinctive front-cover design, an innovative and aesthetically pleasing layout and just feels good in the hands for those who prefer physical rather than online reading material. You can see more of what we're doing here: www.irpj.org/clarion-journal

• We are in the midst of planning our Podcast (yet to be named), which will be co-hosted by Andrew Klager and Jarrod McKenna. If you don’t know Jarrod, he is a wonderful human being and courageous peacemaker who is currently fighting for justice on behalf of refugees on Manus Island — You can read more about what he’s been up to here, here, here, and here. The format of the podcast will be that of an interview and will focus on the much neglected but vitally needed inner transformation of a peacemaker and how this translates into real-world conflicts, violence, and trauma.

• IRPJ has steadily increased its blogging presence through regular contributions on the IRPJ Blog. If you haven’t already, please visit this blog here, and learn what makes our blog different here.

• Along with our referral program that will give students who refer other students to us a discount on their tuition, we are also in the midst of developing a Coffee Club Discussion Group concept wherein enrolled students can enlist their local friends to audit our courses so that they can meet together to discuss the course material face-to-face with the help of an IRPJ workbook that we put together for them.

• Although not much planning has taken place yet, we have decided that our first 5-day symposium / retreat will take place in the Lower Mainland of British Columbia in partnership with the Orthodox Peace Fellowship in summer 2019.

• Since the launch of the Institute for Religion, Peace and Justice back in June, we have added a few more wonderful and experienced Guest Lecturers whom you can check out here: www.irpj.org/guest-lecturers

• And finally, IRPJ has assembled a wonderful group of people from different walks of life and experiences who now make up our Board of Advisors, which you can learn more about here: www.irpj.org/board-of-advisors 

Thank you everyone for supporting us with your finances, with your encouraging words, with you time, and with your prayers — We really appreciate it! To keep up with other IRPJ news as it develops, please visit here: https://www.irpj.org/news

 

And we’d love to hear from any of you, so please drop us a line (www.irpj.org/contact)!

 

Sincerely,

 

–Andrew P. Klager, PhD (Director of IRPJ)

 

The Kingdom of God and the Problem of Patriotism — Andrew P. Klager

Canada Day is upon us once again, and this year it’s more noteworthy because we’ve hit a nice round number since confederation — 150 years. And because of this, the pressure to express our patriotism has ramped up proportionately. This is a problem — a problem for any Canadian, but especially for Christians who claim that “our citizenship is in heaven” (Phil. 3:20) rather than any earthly country whose artificial borders we dutifully protect with methods that are antithetical to the Sermon on the Mount.

And it makes sense that the author of this verse, St. Paul, wrote this since he deliberately defied the political jurisdiction of the Roman empire of which he was a citizen by preaching a gospel and rival King that had him arrested and beheaded (a fact that should also temper our reading of Romans 13).

That said, I’ll admit I cheer for Canadian athletes in the Olympics and team Canada at any IIHF tournament, I loved Canadian geography as a kid, I perk up when TV shows and movies mention Canada and point out when an actor or musician is Canadian, and I love the “feel” of Canada, its beauty and expansiveness and diversity and familiarity. It’s home.

But it’s the Canada from my own selective vantage point, and I lament that I get hung up on these superficial distractions. I resonate with perspectives that portray patriotism as a type of psychosis, an unhealthy attempt to fill a void, and an expression of Stockholm Syndrome on a grander scale.

And I’m not alone. Bertrand Russell defined patriotism as “a willingness to kill and be killed for trivial reasons” and observed, “Patriots always talk of dying for their country, and never of killing for their country.” Oscar Wilde thought that “Patriotism is the vice of nations,” and Albert Einstein scornfully remarked, “Heroism on command, senseless violence, and all the loathsome nonsense that goes by the name of patriotism — how passionately I hate them!” And for those who try in vain to differentiate patriotism from nationalism too much (despite a limited few honest distinctions), Einstein also commented, “I am against any nationalism, even in the guise of mere patriotism.”

This piece is therefore one part confession and one part working out this issue for myself. If you’re patriotic, don’t worry: I don’t think you’re an inherently bad person — just a bit misguided, even duped (nervously insert happy face emoji here).

There’s a sense that some Christians are first taught to be patriotic from a very early age before gaining the maturity and percipience needed to parse its theological implications, and then they desperately try to fit this square peg of the conventions of patriotism into the round hole of the radical demands of God’s kingdom. We’re the products of a false start; I get that.

But I also see some serious ramifications and important considerations for anyone who claims to follow the one who said, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head” (Mt. 20:20).

Click here to read the full article on the Huffington Post.

Apophasis and Loving Our Enemies: The Practical and Theological Implications of Unknowing — Andrew P. Klager

 

Or listen to Dr. Klager's lecture on SoundCloud here.

 

 

Ted Grimsrud’s Response to 'From Suffering to Solidarity': Continuing the Conversation — By Andrew Klager

Ted Grimsrud recently wrote a response to my edited book, From Suffering to Solidarity: The Historical Seeds of Mennonite Interreligious, Interethnic, and International Peacebuilding, on his blog, 'Thinking Pacifism.' It was a mainly positive response at the outset, remarking that “the peace-focused writings make an excellent contribution” and ultimately recommending the book and concluding that “[t]he writing throughout is clear. The book gives a wide-ranging sense of the present application of Mennonite peace convictions and how this emerging field of peacebuilding has evoked many creative and life-enhancing responses by Mennonites and those influenced by them in ministering to a violent and often quite broken world.”

But after underscoring what was good about the book, his primary critique revolved around the book’s perceived omission of any attention to peace theology, asking, Have Mennonites moved past peace theology?

Now, I don’t want to write a response simply because I think someone’s critique is mistaken and it makes me look bad (although I’m human and this is probably part of the equation). And I don’t make a habit of responding to reviews, but the nature of Ted’s blog and this particular post as a “response” rather than a review suggests that this is an opening for a constructive and respectful conversation. In this sense, I want to write a response to correct some misconceptions, but also to ask for clarification on points I found confusing or potentially misleading. In this sense, as my book is only the beginning of my ongoing research on the uses of history in peacebuilding—especially how a historical infrastructure can help generate empathy—I want to know how I can improve in the future without uncritically meandering down a path that may not have been legitimately cut in the first place.

Sneak Peek of 'From Suffering to Solidarity,' edited by Andrew P. Klager

Click here to receive a sneak peek of From Suffering to Solidarity: The Historical Seeds of Mennonite Interreligious, Interethnic, and International Peacebuilding, edited by Andrew P. Klager. In addition to a promotional flyer, included in this excerpt are the Foreword written by Marc Gopin, Introduction by Andrew Klager, and the first chapter by John Derksen. (Used with Permission of Wipf and Stock Publishers): wipfandstock.com

The Light / Darkness Motif: A Response to Brad Jersak's 'Hell is a Kingdom' — Andrew Klager

Brad, I’m tracking with you on this unifying motif of “kingdom,” but I think—riffing off the “dominion of darkness” section in your article—that the pervasive darkness / Light motif throughout the Scriptures (esp. John) accompanies the presence of these two kingdoms too. I think you picked up on this when you cited John 2:8 — “the darkness is fading and the true light is already shining.” We see it also in the only two sources of light in the ancient world: the destructive properties of fire (as painful torment or as that which consumes the obstacles to eternal life) and the illuminating properties of the sun (as illuminator of our transgressions—or, ironically, our participation in darkness—or as illuminating truth).

I think this appears most starkly in the verse immediately preceding the verse you use to underscore the properties of the “dominion of darkness” in 1 Col., where in v.12, Paul writes on the Father, “who has qualified us to share in the inheritance of the saints in light,” and then goes on to say (as you quote), “He has delivered us from the dominion of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son…” (v.13). So, here, alongside the kingdom motif, we have the darkness / Light motif too.

Where else is the darkness / Light motif present alongside the kingdom motif? I’d want to do some more digging since I know there is a truckload of examples, but it could look a little like the following:

1.) Present external realities: political structures = light / darkness as the experience of the political realities as oppressors and oppressed during the plague of darkness in Egypt that was nevertheless experienced as light to the Hebrews; or the violence and insurrection of the zealots that incited the Roman army to destroy Jerusalem and the temple.

2.) Present inner reality: repentance = metanoia or transformation of our nous — “Repent (metanoeite), for the *kingdom* of heaven is at hand,” as embodied in Paul’s conversion through his encounter with the Unapproachable Light that both blinded him and revealed his participation in the dominion of darkness when Jesus remarked about him, “It is hard for you to kick against the spikes” (Acts 26:14). And as exhibited in Light as present judgment: “This is the judgment: Light has come into the world…” (Jn. 3:19).

3.) Future reality: our bodily resurrection / transfiguration = metamorphoomai, wherein Jesus’ own Transfiguration (Lk. 9:28ff.) was a response to and expression of his own statement that “there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the kingdom of God” (Lk. 9:27), and during which “his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white” (Mt. 17:2), which was not a change into something he wasn’t before, but a revelation of what he already was and what we will be.

So, I think this motif of darkness / Light should operate alongside the two kingdoms as equally able to unify present political realities, inner ontological realities, and future realities (all of which can be summarized as eschatological), perhaps as the underlying cosmic reality.

Where the fire (a negative source) in James fits into this darkness / Light motif is a question to ponder further. And, given the political / kingdom motif, when James later says in this same passage, “And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace” (Js. 3:18), I wonder how this fits in too. And, much like in the hierarchy of rungs on the Beatific Ladder, peacemaking (present political reality) requires purity of heart (present inner reality) to facilitate it genuinely, James also picks up on in this passage: “But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable…” (v.17).

What should *WE* have done? Undermining the Myth of 'Us' and 'Them' - Andrew Klager

People regularly ask me the question (often in an attempt to trick me without taking the time to find real answers to it first), “What should we do in the face of ISIS?” underpinned by the ubiquitous ostensibly silver-bullet question, "What should have we done in the face of the Nazis?" But this implies that our side is the good side and their side is evil; it perpetuates the “us” vs. “them” myth that not only fuels animosity and rivalry and dehumanizes the Other so that their lives—and therefore deaths—have less value, but it also forces us to choose one of only two options, however deplorable they both are, while distracting us from considering other legitimate options more seriously.

Therefore, an equally legitimate question is, “What should Germany in the 30s and 40s have done in the face of Allied powers” and “What should Middle Easterners do in the face of Western occupying forces?”

With respect to WWII, of those countries that eventually formed the Allied forces, Britain and France controlled 30% of the world through ruthless and predatory colonization, “taking over the world” in ways that Hitler could only dream of; the British prime minister, Neville Chamberlain, had Nazi sympathies as did much of Wall Street; anti-Semitism—with its medieval roots—was just as pernicious in Allied nations as it was in Germany, never mind that the extent of the Holocaust wasn’t yet known when Allied forces intervened; Germany was forced to contend with the completely unjust and retributive conditions of the post-WWI Treaty of Versailles; Allied forces senselessly firebombed Dresden after the war was all but won and incinerated Hiroshima and Nagasaki in the only uses of nuclear weaponry in world history; and one of the Allied nations—Soviet Russia under Joseph Stalin—was, if we go by numbers alone, at least 5 times more murderous than Nazi Germany. With this in mind, who is the “we” in the question, “What should have *we* done?” Why should we align ourselves with this “we,” especially if it looks like the above description?

The same is true of ISIS and other such radicalized groups. Given the much more destructive impact of Western involvement in the Middle East—too much to get into here in any great detail, but civilian deaths of approx. 170,000 in Iraq, 140,000 in Syria, 45,000 in Afghanistan, etc., etc.; billions in transnational corporate profit from blatantly exploitative economic incursions in oil-rich countries; taxpayer-funded billions in profits by munitions and armaments corporations in what Robert Reich has called (riffing off Eisenhower) the military-industrial-congressional complex; allied with some of the most notorious human rights violators (Saudi Arabia, esp.) who are also the biggest financiers of the same terrorism we apparently want eliminated—what should these impoverished Middle Easterners do in the face of *us*? And, perhaps more importantly, why—again—should we align ourselves with this “us” when the damage we’ve caused is near infinitely worse than what they have caused?

For my part, I don’t want to be a part of either “us” or “them”; I want to undermine this us vs. them framework by instead becoming an agent of peace in the midst of the chaos, support those courageous and creative peacebuilders from any and all “sides” who bypass this unholy dichotomy of “us” or “them” in which both choices are at least equally as evil—ours, empirically at least, much worse—all without a weapon in their hands.

So, when considering the Nazis or ISIS, the question of what “we” should do is completely nonsensical; this “we” has no more moral credibility than “them,” and the very question is structured in such a way that it forces us to choose failure.

Unchristlike Images of God in Matt 22:1:14 - B. Jersak, B. Zahnd, D. Flood, A. Klager

Matt 22:1-14 

Unchristlike Images of God in Matthean Parables

A Mini-Minyan with Brad Jersak, Brian Zahnd, Derek Flood, Andrew Klager

 

Introduction (Brad Jersak)

I was recently invited to share thoughts and respond to questions about my book, A More Christlike God: A More Beautiful Gospel, among a theologically mixed group of very perceptive readers.

Prior to the meeting, the facilitator gave me the consideration of a heads up about a question he was planning to ask. He wanted to me to address the problem of why Jesus’ parables sometimes seem to represent God in a rather un-Christlike light—especially as an infuriated and vengeful king who not only destroys, but even tortures those who do not respond to his invitation. Specifically, he asked me to look at the parable of the banquet as told in Matthew 22.

I was aware of the difficulties in that passage and thought to invite three colleagues to weigh in with their collective wisdom, rather than speaking on my own. Namely, Brian Zahnd, Derek Flood and Andrew Klager. I also received behind the scenes input from Pastor Jason Tripp, who I’ll reference later as well. The conversation that followed seemed well worth sharing, so the following represents excerpts from it.

We begin with the text: 

Matthew 22 ¹Jesus spoke to them again in parables, saying, ² “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding feast for his son. ³ And he sent out his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding feast, and they were unwilling to come. ⁴ Again he sent out other slaves saying, ‘Tell those who have been invited, “Behold, I have prepared my dinner; my oxen and my fattened livestock are all butchered and everything is ready; come to the wedding feast.”’ ⁵ But they paid no attention and went their way, one to his own farm, another to his business, ⁶ and the rest seized his slaves and mistreated them and killed them. ⁷ But the king was enraged, and he sent his armies and destroyed those murderers and set their city on fire. ⁸ Then he said to his slaves, ‘The wedding is ready, but those who were invited were not worthy. ⁹ Go therefore to the main highways, and as many as you find there, invite to the wedding feast.’ ¹⁰ Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered together all they found, both evil and good; and the wedding hall was filled with dinner guests.

¹¹ “But when the king came in to look over the dinner guests, he saw a man there who was not dressed in wedding clothes, ¹² and he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you come in here without wedding clothes?’ And the man was speechless. ¹³ Then the king said to the servants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness; in that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ ¹⁴ For many are called, but few are chosen.”

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I Am Constantine Too — By Andrew Klager

How Christians should perceive the early 4^th-century Roman emperor, Constantine—his role and legacy, whether harmful or beneficial—is a vexing question, one that has admittedly caused for me, as an Orthodox Christian and historian of Christianity, much disillusionment.

Despite my Orthodoxy, speaking as a semi-Yoderian / Hauerwasian (though “recovering” to a large degree) who spends his life trying to be historically responsible and nuanced, we have to first remember that perfection isn’t the criterion of Sainthood; if this were the case, we’d have no Saints. While many Saints are recognized as such because they exhibited genuinely imitable piety and humility, often one of the faithful is recognized as a Saint simply because of one standout accomplishment or extraordinary act. All their faults and destructive behaviour—whether Constantine’s or another Saint’s—should be and certainly are acknowledged and condemned by the Orthodox Church despite their Sainthood. These acts ought not to be sanitized, trivialized, or euphemistically labeled as mere “flaws”: many of the acts that Constantine carried out in his own lifetime and the usurpation of the standards of the kingdom of God (poverty and peacemaking) in favour of the priorities of the state (wealth-building and security through violence) were horrific and have had downright destructive, seemingly irrevocable consequences.

I personally know Orthodox monks who would not consider Constantine a Saint, which is our prerogative too; often we place too much emphasis on what’s “official,” the propriety of public designations within Orthodoxy that gloss over the very real and horrific—even if historically contextual—actions that Constantine (as with other Saints) sanctioned in his own lifetime. Orthodox Christians love to rail against Arius—oddly reciting with glee that St. Nicholas of Myra punched him in the ear at the Council of Nicea (an act he was ashamed of and for which he later asked forgiveness despite our whimsical celebration of it)—but somehow our veneration of Constantine isn’t tempered by the fact that he was baptized on his deathbed (!) by Eusebius of Nicomedia—the bishop who read the opening statement of the Nicene Council in defense of Arius and one of only two bishops present to possibly refuse to sign the final Creed. What this says about the orthodoxy of Constantine—during whose reign Arianism wasn’t entirely abandoned and whose son, Constantius II, embraced Arianism—will likely never be adequately resolved.

Even still, it is essential that we adopt a historical maturity and sensitivity to the age, a sincere ability to put ourselves in certain past situations, to truly “enter into” history—apart from today’s technology, “20/20” hindsight (at least to us, while a future generation will no doubt condemn us with their 20/20 hindsight, and so it goes…), modern cultural and moral sensitivities, convenience of the information age, the fact that we have the luxury of volumes exposing the life of Constantine that we don’t have of some today whom we still nevertheless respect—by acknowledging what it was like for Christians before Constantine and after Constantine. When all Christian bishops can gather in one place for the first time after centuries of brutal persecution to labour on behalf of theological uniformity, and they kiss each other’s wounds where ears were sliced off and limbs were severed, the one responsible for such a dramatic reversal might reasonably elicit our gratitude and acknowledgement; to do otherwise, stems—in my view—from a subconscious (i.e., often unintentional) privileged elitism. There were too many positive changes that went along with this shift to get into here, but suffice it to say, he is “Equal-to-the-Apostles” not because of his piety (which was lacking, to say the least) but because of his major role in the Christianization of large swaths of humanity (i.e., much like the vocation of an Apostle—despite their own faults too, even the denial of Christ, in-fighting, etc.). Nothing more, nothing less.

But the bottom line is this: whether one condemns or adores (or is non-committal toward) Constantine usually depends on the target of one’s attention; if we look for the speck in others’ eyes, we will fail to recognize that Constantine’s plank is my plank. As we pray before ingesting the Holy Gifts, “…You are truly the Christ, the Son of the living God, who came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the first.” If I truly believe this, I should reasonably expect someone to write a book called, “Defending Andrew.” My criticisms of Constantine in the paragraphs above reflect what I also need to repent of and change; I have been angry with my brother as well, an internal impulse without which murder would not be possible, as Christ teaches us (Mt. 5:21–22). As I’ve said many times before, Constantine didn’t just live 1,700 years ago; I am Constantine too.

"Loving Our Enemies: Reflections on the Hardest Commandment": Jim Forest's Much Needed Meditation on a Shamefully Neglected Teaching — By Andrew Klager

Forest, Jim. Loving Our Enemies: Reflections on the Hardest Commandment. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Press, 2014. ISBN: 978-1-62698-090-7

I first met Jim Forest -- author of Loving Our Enemies: Reflections on the Hardest Commandment (Orbis, 2014) -- about five years ago when he made the trek from Holland to the south coast of British Columbia to, among other speaking gigs, give an intimate talk on St. Ephrem's Lenten Prayer at my small Orthodox parish then meeting in a converted barn. While giving him a ride from the church to the place he was staying that night, our conversation veered into Eastern Orthodoxy's somewhat underestimated inclusive embrace despite its miscalculated reputation of cold exclusivism -- even if falling victim to this unfortunate reputation at times. From this initial encounter, I was instantly impressed by the judicious and calm manner in which Jim reflected on, in this case, a somewhat thorny ecclesiological issue that reflects the need for more peacemakers to engender ecumenical hospitality.

The inspiring talk he gave at an Orthodox Peace Fellowship conference I organized in Abbotsford, BC in the summer of 2012 only reaffirmed his stoic humility. And the open arms of Orthodoxy that we had discussed a couple years earlier was echoed by Jim's hospitality when he opened his cozy and welcoming home in the historic heart of Alkmaar, Holland to my friend and I while en route to Egypt for a research project on interreligious peacebuilding between Muslims and Coptic Christians. Over the years, I have witnessed -- even if mostly from a distance -- and come to admire Jim's ability to speak calmly, though no less confidently, in hostile arenas and on contentious issues. This is the avoidance of making enemies when speaking on the topic of loving our enemies -- however demanding and imperfect such attempts may be for anyone dipping their toe in such vexed exchanges and themes.

Like Jim Forest himself, Loving Our Enemies exudes gentle wisdom. Ever the engaging and vivid storyteller, Forest weaves together profound anecdotes and quote-worthy insights to ennoble the cessation of enmity and cultivation of reconciliation in this latest offering. For my money, the chapter "Holy Disobedience" is worth the price of admission alone. The book avoids highfalutin jargon and the reader won't get bogged down by esoteric theological terminology, making this a very accessible and fluid read befitting a lay audience -- which a book on this perennially sidelined topic should be. Much deserved, Loving Our Enemies is also the Gold Medal winner in the theology category of the 2015 Illumination Book Awards.

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Us Versus Them: The Myth that Underlies Our Violence Against the Other — Andrew Klager

This is the myth that underlies our violence against the Other—our so-called “enemies”:

One of the motivations of violence against the Other is portraying oneself—or “our side”—as completely “good” and one’s enemies—or “their side”—as completely “evil.” We do it all the time—as individuals, as cultures, as races, as religions, as nations. This dual portrayal gives “our side” the permission to kill, incarcerate, torture, and oppress since our actions will automatically be deemed righteous, commendable, and sensible, as we are the “good” guys and therefore any actions we take—however objectively deplorable—are automatically considered “good.” And our enemies can be killed, eliminated, incarcerate, oppressed, and tortured as inanimate objects to be eliminated in the implementation of our ideologies and interests because they have no good in them and are therefore completely evil and thus worthy and deserving of their death, torture, incarceration, and oppression. Since there is nothing good in them (i.e., our completely evil “enemies”), no good will be destroyed when our enemies are killed, tortured, or otherwise oppressed.

The antidote to this crude, unthinking, facile, and toxic bifurcation is the prerequisite transfiguration for loving our enemies and building peace intuitively and (super)naturally. The resolution is therefore ontological rather than a forced and contrived imitation—good or bad. And part of what this transfiguration looks like is recognizing the good in our enemies and the evil in ourselves—that, as the gulag surviver, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, remarked, the dividing line between good and evil doesn’t run between separate human beings or identity groups, but down the middle of every human heart; this requires stillness (hesychesis) and attentiveness (nepsis) to the vices and passions in ourselves and a commensurate life of repentance, all of which induces our transfiguration—the partaking of the divine nature (2 Pt. 1:4), the same “stuff” as the Prince of Peace—that capacitates us for treating the Other in the same way that the Transfigured One treated the Other—i.e., the prostitutes, the Samaritans, the publicans, the Roman occupiers.

A desire for retribution is the response to our perception of complete evil in the Other; a desire for restoration is the response to our recognition of at least some good in all human beings—“the true light, which enlightens everyone” (Jn. 1:9)—that can still yet be unearthed, prioritized, and cultivated.