Clarion: Journal of Spirituality and Justice

Stanley Hauerwas' "Jesus Changes Everything" - Review by Bradley Jersak

Stanley Hauerwas, Jesus Changes Everything (Plough Publishing), 2025. 

Review by Bradley Jersak

In prayer and meditation, I have given this month to asking the Lord, “Show me where I am being tempted to despair and where I am being invited to despair.”

In the current Great Regression—social, political, and religious—I am recognizing both aspects. First, the temptation to despair speaks of hopelessness, despondency, paralysis, and gloom. Many, especially vulnerable folks on the margins, feel afraid, under assault, traumatized. Despair lurks.

But conversely, I also sense Jesus inviting us to a despair of a different register. I suspect we should despair of imagining we can fix our world, our nation, and even the Christian brand through worldly ways via partisan politics, culture wars ideology, and religious nationalism. These have proven ineffectual and have increasingly mutated Christianity into something foreign to the Jesus Way.

What then? Enter Stanley Hauerwas. For a long time, he’s being urging the followers of Christ to be “resident aliens,” where the church is not trying to “take the seven mountains” of cultural influence and certainly not to found a theocracy as a political power. But neither is Hauerwas calling us into a Christian conclave as lumps of tasteless salt and bucket covered lamps.

In Jesus Changes Everything, Hauerwas asks us to despair of cultural control and political power. Like Jeremiah, we are not citizens of the empire, but strangers from another world, planted wherever we live as yeast in the loaf. In only that way, “a new world is possible.”

In this tight (133 pages and just $10), clear manifesto, the author reorients us to Jesus, in six movements as simple that they are radical and provocative.

• Part 1: Following Jesus
• Part 2: Good News
• Part 3: God’s Alternative Society
• Part 4: Kingdom Economics
• Part 5: Sowing Seeds of Peace
• Part 6: The Politics of Witness

Hauerwas makes it hard to be a Christian (because, of course, basics such as radical forgiveness and enemy love involve a kind of death to self), and he makes it hard to not to be one, as the person of Jesus and his story are intensely compelling. This book shows us how Jesus’ story can be my story, our story, and from that center, trust the ripples. A keeper.

Here is an interview with Dr. Hauerwas about the book (with Charles Moore of Plough Publishing).   

Stephen Hui's "Destination Hikes" - Review by Ron Dart

Review of Stephen Hui, Destination Hikes In and Around Southwestern British Columbia (Greystone Books: Vancouver, 2021). Foreword by Cecilia Point

I have before me a few first edition books (collector’s items I assume) that were pioneering guide books in their day: Mt. Garibaldi: Vancouver’s Alpine Playground (1922) by Don Munday, a signed edition of Dick Culbert’s 1960s A Climber’s Guide to the Coastal Ranges of British Columbia, a splendid 1967 copy of Glenn Woodsworth’s A Climber’s Guide to the Squamish Chief and Surrounding Areas (signed by the superb climber and search and rescue legend Tim Auger—we spent some lovely time in Lake O’Hara many a year ago) and the many editions of 103 Hikes in Southwestern British Columbia by, initially, David/Mary Macaree, then Jack Bryceland. The more recent stepping on the stage by Stephen Hui has enriched and enlarged, updated, and revealed yet a greater variety of more and less demanding treks to take.

The publication of Destination Hikes In and Around Southwestern British Columbia is a fit and fine companion to Stephen’s earlier book, 105 Hikes In and Around Southwestern British Columbia. The style of both books is much the same, but this new book adds to the possibilities of trails yet to take and destinations yet to see. The book is divided into four regions: 1) Hikes North of Vancouver, 2) Hikes East of Vancouver, 3) Hikes West of Vancouver and 4) Hikes South of Vancouver (in the United States). Each hike is replete with superb photographs and headings that include distance, time, elevation gain, high point, difficulty, maps and trailhead. Photographs also include a variety of animals, waterfalls, scenic sights, thick forests, carpeted forest floors, signs, alpine flowers, wooden cabins, richly coloured clouds, and various types of glaciers. There are also many “Stop of Interest” sections that make a trip to the mountains yet more attractive and worth the effort in doing. Stephen, rightly so, makes it clear that for those keen to take to the mountains (shorter or longer trips) preparation and precautions are needful and necessary—he has a fine few pages that cover the basics of outdoor rambling so that one and all return safely and in good form.

The 55 hikes included in Destination Hikes do, as the subtitle suggests,

point to “Swimming Holes, Mountain Peaks, Waterfalls and More”. The “More” opens up more enchanted trails worth the trekking. 19 of the hikes are north of Vancouver, 20 of the hikes east of Vancouver, a mere 7 of the hikes west of Vancouver and another 9 hikes south of Vancouver (in the state of Washington). So, the bulk of the hikes in this timely beauty and bounty of a well-crafted book are north and east of Vancouver.

The Foreword by Cecilia Point is a keeper not to miss. Cecilia has an evocative way of inviting those keen to take to such sacred and time tried 1^st Nations landscapes to realize many have gone before them and their footprints still remain for those with eyes to see and hearts to feel. The Foreword is, indeed, worth a few meditative reads and much inward digesting.

The “Overview Maps” (pages 30-37) are well worth the pondering as plans are made for trips into the backcountry and means of evaluating the expectations and demands of such trips, mountain weather, and group dynamics, always, of course, the variable and unpredictable elements in any mountain and rambling trip.

I have done most of the trips that Stephen so well describes and there can be no doubt that Destination Hikes is a must-have book for those eager to take to the mountains, alpine lakes, peaks, ridges, and much else in southwestern British Columbia and further southward into Washington. The book also provides most of the information needed for safe trips there and back again and continues the unfolding journey

of solid and reliable guidebooks for those interested and committed

to mature trips into the bounty of beautiful British Columbia.

Montani Semper Liberi

Ron dart                     

Erasmus in Review: Two Works - Ron Dart

Robert D. Sider (edited), Erasmus on the New Testament, (University of Toronto Press: Toronto, 2020).

Mark Vessey (edited), Erasmus on Literature: His Ratio or “System” of 1518/1519, (University of Toronto Press: Toronto, 2021).

Erasmus was too good a humanist to live only in the past.

—P.S. Allen

The name of Erasmus will never perish.

—John Colet

Erasmus has published volumes more full of wisdom
than any which Europe has seen for ages.

—Thomas More

I am halfway through the Ratio Verae Theologiae of Erasmus, loving the clarity and balance of his Latin, his taste, his good sense, his evangelical teaching. If there had been no Luther, Erasmus would now be regarded by everyone as one of the great Doctors of the Catholic Church. I like his directness, his simplicity, and his courage. All the qualities of Erasmus, and other qualities besides, were canonized in Thomas More.                                                        

Thomas Merton

Erasmus has often not been treated the best in both 16th-century Reformation-Renaissance history, thought, and religion, or the centuries that followed. The Roman Catholic Church put his writings on the Index at Trent and many Protestants have uncritically bowed the knee to Luther’s rather volcanic and reactionary rebuttal to Erasmus’ Freedom of the Will (1524), in the rather feisty The Bondage of the Will (1525). Both Roman Catholics and Protestants, therefore, in the religious and culture wars of the 16^th century did not know how to cage this wild bird. Erasmus tended to transcend the tribalism of both the Roman Catholic and variations of Protestant clans and Sanhedrins. And yet it was Erasmus, more than anyone else, in his various translations and annotations of the New Testament, who raised substantive questions about serious mistranslations (and the theological-pastoral implications of them) of Jerome’s Vulgate. The main translations by Erasmus of the New Testament in 1516, 1519, 1522, 1527, and 1535 did, as the saying goes, lay the egg that Luther hatched. It was in these, increasingly so, translations, commentaries, and annotations that Erasmus distinguished himself as one of the most significant scholars of the first half of the 16^th century. The recent publications of Erasmus and the New Testament (2020) and Erasmus on Literature (2021) do need to be read together as companion tomes on Erasmus’ layered and nuanced approach in how to read, interpret and apply the text of the New Testament. In fact, both books walk the extra mile to highlight the all too obvious reality that Erasmus should not have been marginalized in his age and ethos or our context. But, it is to these two books worth the reviewing we now turn.

Love on a human scale: The Gospel according to Ivan Illich - Review by Marcus Rempel

Every now and then a book comes into my life that puts me in a happy dilemma: I want to lend it to all my friends, but I don’t want it to leave my house. Ivan Illich: An Intellectual Journey is a labour of love by Illich’s long-time friend and co-conspirator, David Cayley. At 552 pages, its heft reminds me of the boxes of “a good, but inexpensive wine” that Illich managed to write off as a teaching expense. This opus represents many, many evenings of intelligent, friendly, and finally life-changing dialogue that culminate in a  near-symphonic quality.  Cayley’s deep understanding and clear prose pull a complex, balanced harmony out of themes that to the casual reader of Illich could seem eclectic. What does medical overreach have to do with the 12th-century innovation of silent reading or the New Testament concept of the Anti-Christ or the dissolution of gender as a capitalist phenomenon, for heaven’s sake? 

In a confusing and troubling time, this book gave me the permission to weigh the harm done by coronavirus against the harms done in the fight against it, a model to help me accept and be grateful for some of what medicine provides, and still have the confidence to resist to the hysteric shunning of my unvaccinated friends. In the wake of the discovery of more than 1,308 unmarked graves for Indigenous children who were coerced into residential schools and never came home again, the book helps me name the totalitarian hubris of a church that thought it could “do what God cannot, namely manipulate others into their own salvation” through brute force, child abductions and mind control, and repent of such hubris through a closer walk with Christ, rather than by running away from my spiritual inheritance.

One of Illich’s mottos was “I fear the Lord is passing me by.” Illich receives in Jesus’ parable of the Samaritan a radical freedom to encounter the other Other in the human other—an opening to friendship that can not be guaranteed, a surprise that cannot be institutionalized. His other motto was Corruptio Optimi Pessima—the corruption of the best is the worst. Glorious innovations tend to have dark shadows. A faith in which there is neither male nor female, neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free is uniquely prone to an imperialism that flattens Indigenous cultures and drives men and women out of the complementarity of gender into the competitive, unidimensional arena of sex.

This last idea risks generating much more heat than light, and a book review by a white man about a biography by a white man about another white man seems unlikely to help the cause. I may just be securing my copy from being borrowed! At the risk of mansplaining, I will spill a little more ink on what may be a stumbling block for many in accessing Illich. Many of Illich’s friends advised him against publishing his thoughts on this matter, and when Gender came out in 1982 it did mark a fall from grace for Illich among the New Left.

Cayley’s chapter on “Gender” takes care to first understand what Illich had to say before critiquing some of his nostalgia and gender essentialism, a courtesy that was not granted him by early reviewers. Cayley summarizes Illich’s argument as follows:

Illich speaks loudly against equality as sameness. But he also speaks loudly for equality in its sense of equity, arguing that most women suffer irremediable disadvantages in a realm of universal circulation and competition. The two points are connected. Illich claims that idealizing equality may allow some women to rise to new heights of wealth and influence but that it will hurt many more—by lowering the status of every form of sustenance that occurs outside the cash nexus in which equality finds its measure, by fostering an illusory sense of opportunity, and by inviting those who fail to seize these opportunities to blame themselves. His analysis of feminism, in this respect, took the same form as his analysis of every other modern institution that he explored—it incites envy and delivers frustration. Only by reversing economic growth, unbuilding the global megalith, and restoring human scale will the majority of women regain their dignity, he says, because only then will the contribution of those who have been shunted aside in the rat race begin to matter. This is the sole sense in which he speaks against equality: equality-as-justice, he says, cannot be achieved without a firm rejection of equality-as-sameness.

Illich is on the lookout everywhere in his work for one-size-fits-all solutions that ignore the bonds and bounds of our bodies, whether the social bodies of community and culture or the physical bodies of women and men. Visions of justice that require everyone to have the same kinds of jobs, visions of health that require everyone to take the same kind of medicine, visions of education that require everyone to have the same kind of standardized credentials are for Illich a liberal power fantasy with an ugly underbelly, a perversion directly inherited from a church that could envision the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven as the mass conversion of global humanity into a single catechism and a single rite under a single worldly authority with divinely underwritten supremacy. Such a universalism inherently corrodes human freedom and erodes “the soil of friendship” which is always limited and local. “As long as you think of the world as a whole,” Illich said, “the time for human beings is over.” 

Illich is trying to protect islands of the homegrown, the homemade, and the homespoken. I think of feminist friends who make homegrown pickles with their homeschooled children when they could easily get jobs that would pay for cheaper pickles, cheaper child care, and then some. Perhaps at the kitchen tables of these mothers, Illich’s analysis of gender has “reached the hour of its legibility,” as is hoped by Giorgio Agamben, another male commentator. Besides the voice of Illich’s colleague Barbara Duden, and a comment from Cayley’s wife, we hear little sympathetic commentary from women in this chapter. That is too bad. 

 Illich calls this domain of the homemade “the vernacular,” reviving an old Latin adjective that could be applied to one’s mother tongue as well as to a cow raised at home instead of acquired at the market. He hopes such islands can align in an “archipelago of conviviality”—a chain of islands where life is still livable on a human scale, where we can love one another as neighbours and renounce the kind of “care” that implicitly takes the point of view of a systems administrator. It is not that Illich is against institutions and systems organized to achieve social goods, but as a loyal dissident of the Roman Catholic Church, he is acutely sensitive to the harms done in the name of good, and of the importance of limits and humility for those of us who get caught up trying to save the world, whether with sacred rites or secular ones. “Risk awareness,” Illich said to Cayley late in life, is “the most important religiously celebrated ideology of today.” That was before the Coronavirus lockdown.

Illich blesses the missionary impulse at the same time as he chastens it. He understands that whether inspired by Jesus or by a medical breakthrough, people will want to share their good news. But he sees with near-clairvoyant power how the good news is accompanied by a terrible danger. Humans inspired by visions of God’s will done on earth as it is in heaven all too easily construct an artificial, man-made world from which there is no escape. 

As a reader of Illich via Cayley, I find myself more deeply drawn into the good news of Jesus, and more able to discern and rebuke the spirits that dress up like Jesus while perverting his good news. I find myself both grateful for a vaccine that reduces the symptoms and spread of a nasty virus, and alert to the shadows of a campaign of global vaccine compliance. When a frightened neighbour who does not attend my church recently reached out to me to ask if I could write a religious exemption for her son so that this unvaccinated young man could attend college this fall, I said yes. As I did so, I silently thanked Illich and Cayley for helping me get my head around what the hell is going on in this strange time and how in heaven’s name such a yes to my neighbour could possibly be a yes to Christ.

A.M. Allchin's "Participation in God" - Review by Ron Dart

A.M. Allchin, Participation in God: Forgotten Strand in Anglican Tradition (Morehouse-Barlow, 1988).

Arthur Macdonald “Donald” Allchin (1930-2010) was one of the most significant Anglican theologians of the 20^th century, and his ever deeper probes into the classical vision of contemplative theology and the Anglican way are pointers not to miss. Significantly so, there has been a troubling tendency within the historic Anglican way to ignore the theology of theosis or, in sum, “God became man so humanity would be divinized (or deified)”. Participation in God reclaims such a vision as embodied in the historic Anglican way.

Allchin highlighted, in his “Introduction”, how two important Anglican writers on spirituality missed this core notion of deification: Thornton’s English Spirituality (1963) and Moorman’sThe Anglican Spiritual Tradition (1983). Allchin’s three lectures, delivered in 1983-1984 in the USA, probes the aberrant read by Thornton and Moorman and turns to significant post-reformation Anglican Divines in their read of deification. The initial lecture discussed Richard Hooker and Lancelot Andrewes, the second lecture lingered with Charles Wesley and Williams Pantycelyn, and the third and final lecture E.B. Pusey and the Oxford Movement are covered. The final and summary chapter articulates “The Co-inherence of Human and Divine”. Needless to say, the Patristic Tradition ethos ever informs such insightful lectures turned book.

The elevated ideal of deification is often seen as the bailiwick of the Orthodox way but given the historic Anglican-Orthodox dialogue and the fact both traditions draw deeply from the best of the Patristic way, it is quite predictable that the notion of theosis would be held in common by both---such is the deeper meaning of sobornost that Allchin understood so well, his engagement as a catholic Anglican with the Orthodox central to his vocation. As the deeper and more perennial meaning of theology, soteriology, and anthropology is more maturely embraced by the Christian Tradition, the integrative and high vision of true Christian Humanism will be realized, theosis the portal into such an expansive reality.

There are few good and readable overviews of the doctrine of deification but Participation in God: A Forgotten Strand in Anglican Tradition is definitely one of them. Such a compact missive corrects a certain read of the Anglican way that has tended to shrink Anglican contemplative theology to the smallest circle turns. We should be grateful to Allchin for his life and prolific writings. Participation in God a superb entrée to Allchin’s life and thought.

Fiat Lux

Ron Dart

"The Inklings and Culture" - Review by Ron Dart

Monika B. Hilder, Sara L. Pearson & Laura N. Van Dyke (eds.), The Inklings and Culture: A Harvest of Scholarship from the Inklings Institute of Canada (Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2020).

There has been, within Canada, a committed history of interest in the Inklings. My mother was faithfully involved with the Toronto group that published Pilgrimage: The Toronto C.S. Lewis Society (a magazine on Lewis and the Inklings in the 1980s-1990s, final edition 2009). The Canadian C.S. Lewis Journal: The Inklings, Their Friends & Predecessors that closed shop Autumn 2001 (lasted almost 30 years, 100 publications) was, in its last decade, published on the West Coast. But, it was with the founding of The Inklings Institute of Canada at Trinity Western University that a more mature and integrated vision of the Inklings came into being. The publication of The Inklings and Culture is the well-birthed child of such fine parenting.

The fact I took in Lewis and the Inklings with my mother’s milk, and, in some small way, contributed to The Inklings and Culture, means my decades-long journey (from the earliest years) was amply rewarded by heeding and reading the many and polyphonic voices in this well-tuned Inklings symphony.

The Inklings and Culture: A Harvest of Scholarship from the Inklings Institute of Canada is, indeed, a harvest and feast of a read. The tome is divided into 4 parts and 27 chapters. Each part is packed with insights and probes that make for creative reads and varied interpretations of the pure gold of Inklings life and thought: Part I: Literary Influences, Part II: The Christian Imagination, Part III: Artistic Responses, and Part IV: Contemporary and Theological Issues are not to be missed.

Most of the Inkling worthies step on front stage (MacDonald, Lewis, Sayers, Chesterton, Williams, Tolkien, and Barfield – some more obviously Inkling than others) and other lesser-known writers and artists who historically anticipated or had affinities with the Inklings in direct and indirect ways (Charlotte Bronte, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Anna Sewell, Bede Griffiths, and Reinhold Niebuhr are also mentioned and discussed).

Lewis decidedly leads the pack of articles with 15 of the 27 reflections dedicated directly to him, whereas Tolkien is featured in 5 articles and Sayers in 3 of the essays. MacDonald, Chesterton, Williams, and Barfield are momentarily on stage. But, there can be no doubt that Lewis is the main actor that speaks his speech well – not trippingly on the tongue as some do. The quality of essays and themes covered are of a high level and not to be missed. There can be no doubt that Hilder, Pearson and Van Dyke have done Canada well in their harvest of scholarship. The Canadian Inklings children have now matured as well-rounded, comprehensive, and creative adults, the table spread a bounty not to miss, much nourishment in the feast. I might also add that Hilder’s “Introduction” and Van Dyke’s “Chronology” makes the tome a greater, grander and fuller bounty not to miss.   

There can be no doubt those who anticipated the Inklings (MacDonald, Chesterton) and the Inklings did, in their unique way, unconceal, and by doing so, reveal a mother lode of mythic, imaginative and literary gold within the Western and Christian Tradition that had been somewhat concealed by a hyper form of right of centre Enlightenment rationalism and scientism. It was this healthy and full-bodied Christian romanticism and humanism that was the genius of the Inklings and why their presence ever persists to inform, instruct and point the way to finer and fitter trails worth the taking. There can be no doubt that The Inklings and Culture is Canadian scholarship at its evocative best and the impact of such a hefty tome will linger for many a decade and be a library from which future Inkling scholars will turn to slake a deeper thirst, the wine full-bodied and palette tasty.

Ron Dart           

"The Inklings and Culture: A Harvest of Scholarship" - review by Ron Dart

Monika B. Hilder, Sara L. Pearson & Laura N. Van Dyke (eds.), The Inklings and Culture: A Harvest of Scholarship from the Inklings Institute of Canada (Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2020).

There has been, within Canada, a committed history of interest in the Inklings. My mother was faithfully involved with the Toronto group that published Pilgrimage: The Toronto C.S. Lewis Society (a magazine on Lewis and the Inklings in the 1980s-1990s, final edition 2009). The Canadian C.S. Lewis Journal: The Inklings, Their Friends & Predecessors that closed shop Autumn 2001 (lasted almost 30 years, 100 publications) was, in its last decade, published on the West Coast. But, it was with the founding of The Inklings Institute of Canada at Trinity Western University that a more mature and integrated vision of the Inklings came into being. The publication of The Inklings and Culture is the well-birthed child of such fine parenting.

The fact I took in Lewis and the Inklings with my mother’s milk, and, in some small way, contributed to The Inklings and Culture, means my decades-long journey (from the earliest years) was amply rewarded by heeding and reading the many and polyphonic voices in this well-tuned Inklings symphony.

The Inklings and Culture: A Harvest of Scholarship from the Inklings Institute of Canada is, indeed, a harvest and feast of a read. The tome is divided into 4 parts and 27 chapters. Each part is packed with insights and probes that make for creative reads and varied interpretations of the pure gold of Inklings life and thought: Part I: Literary Influences, Part II: The Christian Imagination, Part III: Artistic Responses, and Part IV: Contemporary and Theological Issues are not to be missed.

Most of the Inkling worthies step on front stage (MacDonald, Lewis, Sayers, Chesterton, Williams, Tolkien, and Barfield – some more obviously Inkling than others) and other lesser-known writers and artists who historically anticipated or had affinities with the Inklings in direct and indirect ways (Charlotte Bronte, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Anna Sewell, Bede Griffiths, and Reinhold Niebuhr are also mentioned and discussed).

Lewis decidedly leads the pack of articles with 15 of the 27 reflections dedicated directly to him, whereas Tolkien is featured in 5 articles and Sayers in 3 of the essays. MacDonald, Chesterton, Williams, and Barfield are momentarily on stage. But, there can be no doubt that Lewis is the main actor that speaks his speech well – not trippingly on the tongue as some do. The quality of essays and themes covered are of a high level and not to be missed. There can be no doubt that Hilder, Pearson, and Van Dyke have done Canada well in their harvest of scholarship. The Canadian Inklings children have now matured as well-rounded, comprehensive, and creative adults, the table spread a bounty not to miss, much nourishment in the feast. I might also add that Hilder’s “Introduction” and Van Dyke’s “Chronology” make the tome a greater, grander, and fuller bounty not to miss.   

There can be no doubt those who anticipated the Inklings (MacDonald, Chesterton) and the Inklings did, in their unique way, unconceal, and by doing so, reveal a mother lode of mythic, imaginative, and literary gold within the Western and Christian Tradition that had been somewhat concealed by a hyper form of right of centre Enlightenment rationalism and scientism. It was this healthy and full-bodied Christian romanticism and humanism that was the genius of the Inklings and why their presence ever persists to inform, instruct and point the way to finer and fitter trails worth the taking. There can be no doubt that The Inklings and Culture is Canadian scholarship at its evocative best and the impact of such a hefty tome will linger for many a decade and be a library from which future Inkling scholars will turn to slake a deeper thirst, the wine full-bodied and palette tasty.

Ron Dart           

     

Robyn Wrigley-Carr's "Music of Eternity: Meditations For Advent With Evelyn Underhill" - review by Ron Dart

Robyn Wrigley-Carr, Music of Eternity: Meditations For Advent With Evelyn Underhill (SPCK: London, 2021).

Advent is one of the turning points in the Christian liturgical year and such a turning season does welcome deeper reflections on the meaning of the faith journey. Evelyn Underhill understood this turn to inner depth in a substantive way and the role of Advent in such deeper dives for the eternal pearl. Robyn Wrigley-Carr has once again produced a masterpiece of insight and wisdom in her heeding and hearing the way Underhill internalized the music of eternity in her Advent reflections.

Music of Eternity has a compelling and apt “Introduction”, by the Archbishop of York, Stephen Cottrell. In fact, Music of Eternity will be his Advent book for 2021—high praise indeed for such a beauty of a primer on Underhill and Advent. But, there is much more worth pondering as we pass through the portal of Music of Eternity into the sanctuary of Underhill and Advent, Robyn being the Beatrice of sorts.

Music of Eternity is divided into 4 sections: 1) Prevenience: Welcoming God’s Coming (God Is), 2) Advent: Awaiting God’s Coming (Christ Is Coming), 3) Emmanuel: Recognizing God’s Coming (Christ Comes), and 4) Holy Living: Embracing God’s Coming (God Has Come). Each of these main sections are broken down into smaller bite-size pieces in which the meaning of Advent is probed in an ever fuller and more mature way and manner. Needless to say, the 4 sections correspond to the 4 weeks of Advent. In each of the sections, Robyn weaves together quotes from Underhill on Advent with her significant thoughts on the perennial relevance of both Advent and Underhill for us today on our all too human journey. The “Prologue” by Robyn is worth many a meditative read just as the “Epilogue” (Come, Lord Jesus) and Appendix (Editing the Excerpts) makes for a fine finale to Music of Eternity. There is, also, at the end of each meditation section thoughts “For Discussion” and a “Prayer”.

I might add by way of a kindly criticism that it might have been valuable if some attention had been paid to Underhill’s more political and peace writings in the book, Advent and Underhill, in their time and ethos, certainly in the thick of tragic war and peace issues.  

It would be somewhat remiss of me to ignore the evocative cover on the book. The obvious music of eternity that permeates the creative cover cannot be missed, each image more than a welcome to the senses to address the soul about Advent and yet a further journey. The winter blue sky, snow on the ground, flakes of white falling and yet flowers blooming (eidelweiss) from the snow, birds in song and an empty path and bench welcoming one and all to the journey. The courage needed to take the next invitational step forwards and onwards, to sit on the bench and listen, the path in the winter season a gift if understood aright. Such is the meaning of Advent, Underhill’s offered music and Robyn’s interpretive gift of Underhill and Advent, a letter from eternity. Can we hear the music?

Ron Dart          

What Is GOD Like? Response to critics from a white children's author - Brad Jersak

What Is God Like? 

story by Rachel Held Evans and Matthew Paul Turner

illustrated by Ying Hui Tan

 

My response to this children's book is simple:

Thank you. Buy it for the children in your life.

 

My response to certain critics:

Some critics of this book have made a BIG deal of how inappropriate it is for white children's authors to illustrate their books with BIPOC children. Something about co-opting, something about exploitation, something about having no right to appropriate BIPOC characters for a book by white people.

As a white children's author, I employed an illustrator who generated three characters for my first book, Children, Can You Hear Me? Jesus ended up looking too much like me, and the children represented two bullied children--one because of weight shaming and the other for her poverty. The complaint I heard was that the characters were white. The people and the environment looked like they came from the neighborhood where my illustrator lives. My critics were right. I should have asked for more racial diversity.

I agree. It is very expensive for a self-published author to illustrate a book over again from scratch, but I was willing to do it. My plan was to have a middle-eastern brown Jesus, a rural African boy, and an Asian girl from inner-city Bangkok. But I ran into several roadblocks:

First, while in China and in Thailand, I was told by Christian nationals that if the book included a Black child, I should not expect to sell it to Asians. The racism I encountered was overt and presented as a factual reality to consider. I hope that does not represent a broad consensus, but it was the message I heard repeatedly. Then, when a Mongolian publisher licensed the book, I asked if we could hire a Mongolian artist to redo the illustrations appropriate to their people and culture. My rep. presented it to the Mongolians, who declined. They loved the illustrations and asked if they could distribute it 'as is.' I was disappointed but that was their preference. Okay.

Then, a representative from Africa approached me and asked if I'd consider employing an African artist to recreate the illustrations for their context. I was keen to do it, but when the sample artwork came back, the Jesus character was impossible to use. No smile. No life in his eyes. It communicated everything that screamed 'aloof and non-relational.' I was reminded just how good my illustrator, Ken Save, was at creating living characters, full of expression, whose emotional vividness transcended color. 

In the end, I decided I'd just let it go and create a new book, titled Jesus Showed Us. My illustrator, Shari-Ann Vis, used Eastern and Ethiopian Orthodox icons as models with a Jewish-brown Jesus and a more racially and ethnically diverse set of characters. Apparently, it resonates. But is that allowed?  

Some say no. With the publication of What Is God Like? the critics are decrying white authors using BIPOC characters. So here's the double bind:

1. White children's authors should not use white characters.
2. White children's authors should not use BIPOC characters.  

Conclusion? White people should not author children's books. Or is there some third option? 

I presented this problem to a BIPOC critic who I relate to on Instagram. When I presented the double-bind they were promoting and asked for a third way, they kindly suggested that if white authors intend to create children's books that include BIPOC characters, they should create the book in collaboration with a person of color. In other words, white people should not produce children's books unless they have BIPOC collaborator.

Some might object to this idea. I do not. I love collaboration and believe that working together with those who don't look like me greatly improves the outcome. I would not see such a plan as a limitation at all. The fact that my first attempts to do so failed doesn't exhaust the possibilities. I'm thrilled to take that route.  

Ying Hui Tan

Here's the thing: What Is GOD Like did exactly that! The author(s) DID collaborate with a Malaysian illustrator, Ying Hui Tan, who brilliantly captured diversity in terms race, culture, and ability. The characters include black, brown, and white children (including a character in a wheelchair). So my question is whether Tan's ethnicity doesn't count somehow, or whether illustration doesn't suffice as collaboration. Or what? Now there's the question as to whether Asians count as people of colour or not. Depends who you ask. Or when it's convenient. I'm of the persuasion that the BIPOC brand is inclusive of brown people. Let me know who wins that debate. 

At some point, one wonders what's really going on. In the end, I've learned that listening to BIPOC voices for the last word serves me well, and when they don't agree with each other, I'm best off looking to those I already trust. In this case, I defer to Austin Channing Brown, author of the bestselling book I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness. Here was her generous assessment of What Is God Like?   

“This is how I want my child to be introduced to the concept of God. This is the divine presence I want my child to explore. This is the book I need for him, and it’s the one I need for me. Cuz sometimes I need to remember what God is like too."

 

Jim Forest’s Eyes of Compassion: Learning from Thich Nhat Hanh - Review by Ron Dart

Ron Dart with Jim Forest

Jim Forest’s Eyes of Compassion: Learning From Thich Nhat Hanh

Orbis Books, 2021

Review by Ron Dart

When I was working for Amnesty International in the 1980s, I began a correspondence with Jim Forest (who was working for Fellowship of Reconciliation at the time) that continues to thrive and flourish. I also began in the 1990s a correspondence with Thich Nhat Hanh (certainly not as extensive as the one I have had with Jim over the decades). So, it was a delight and joy to meditatively read the much more extensive journey of Jim with Thich Nhat Hanh in Eyes of Compassion. The subtitle is apt indeed--Learning From Thich Nhat Hanh. I suspect Nhat Hanh has also learned much from Jim Forest. Such experiences do knit people together well and wisely.

Eyes of Compassion threads together about 70 short reflections on the journey of Thich Nhat Hanh and Jim’s pilgrimage with him. The period of time covered, obviously, cannot ignore the American involvement in Vietnam and the role of many seekers of justice and peace in the USA (and elsewhere) doing what they could to support Buddhist peacemakers like Thich Nhat Hanh (and other Buddhist monks and nuns inspired by his life and writings). There is a sense that this short book, replete with touching and telling back-white photos, is also a recounting of both dark times and those who were light-bearers in such a tragic period of history. Each of the short reflections (and they are just that) needs to be quietly sat with to fully appreciate their time tried wisdom and insights.              

The kindly and thoughtful, personal and tender, “Introduction” by Mobi Warren is well worth many a read. I mentioned that the many photographs in the book speak much about Jim and Thich Nhat Hanh’s journey together, but the many sketches in the book have both abundant literal and symbolic significance. In short, the combination of text, photos, and sketches makes this missive of a book an entrée of sorts into the deeper meaning of eyes, seeing, compassion, friendship, justice, and peacemaking—well worth the journey of understanding.

Amnesty International has a logo that states “Better to Light a Candle than Curse the Darkness”. There is a definite sense in which Jim Forest and Thich Nhat Hanh have been candles in such darkness and Eyes of Compassion: Learning From Thich Nhat Hanh highlights how they (and many others mentioned in the book) have been such flickering yet consistent and enduring lights.       

Thich Nhat Hanh has, for many in the West, become a symbol (like the Dalai Lama) of the Buddhist meditative and mindful way but few know about the nature of his more personal journey that Jim so thoughtfully recounts. And, as the notion of “Engaged Buddhism” has become prominent, compassion became even more essential as a corrective to the legitimate demands of justice. This seemingly small book is not so small when understood in its deeper meaning and significance. Do read and inwardly digest—much nutrition indeed for soul and society.

Fiat Lux

Ron Dart

Brad Jersak's "A More Christlike WORD" - Review by Joe Beach

What kind of book is the Bible? 
How should we read and interpret the Bible?
How should we tell the Bible’s story with our words and our lives?

 

Pre-order now on Amazon

These are the questions at the heart of this marvelous book by Dr. Brad Jersak. (A More Christlike Word: Reading Scripture the Emmaus Way is now available for pre-order: CLICK HERE). 

The fancy word for the art and science of interpreting the Bible is Hermeneutics. For the first twenty years of my adult life, during and after college and seminary, I devoured everything I could get my hands on regarding the interpretation of Scripture, the doctrine of Scripture, the nature and authority of Scripture, you name it. It remains one of my life’s passions. One of the things I discovered early on is that there is indeed an art to it. Some people are good at it and some people aren’t – regardless of how much academic training they had obtained. I’m not saying that learning the basic principles of good Bible interpretation isn’t important. They are invaluable. I immersed myself in studying the importance of genre, context, figures of speech, progressive revelation, redemptive trajectory, translation theory, and the editing, collecting, and canonization of Scripture. I also studied the use of Scripture in the liturgy of both the Jewish and Christian traditions. But beyond all of that, there remains an art to it. I guess you could call it a mixture of intuitive insight, Holy Spirit-led common sense, and the guiding, protecting, guardrail-like presence of the interpretive community, both past, and present. Ultimately, we interpret the Bible together or not at all. Having said that, however, there’s one more essential element to this whole enterprise. There’s something more to reading the Bible well. And that something more is what Brad Jersak’s book discusses and discovers.

In the 1980s, Clark Pinnock wrote a book entitled, The Scripture Principle, which launched me on that lifelong quest I mentioned. In the last twenty years or so, I began to encounter a cascade of writers and thinkers who were helping me understand what I now consider to be the crucial ingredient in Biblical Interpretation: that of reading the Bible through the lens of Jesus Christ. I knew in my gut that this was the right path. I learned that Jesus is the best place to start and the best place to end. I was reminded that Jesus is God’s Word in the fullest and truest sense. I was reminded that the best way to read the prophets and the poets and the apostles was to read them as Jesus taught us to read them: as being about Jesus, as pointing to Jesus, as witnesses to Jesus, as leading up to Jesus. In other words, the best way to read God’s Holy Bible is with Jesus Christ by our side: reading the Bible in Jesus, through Jesus, from Jesus, to Jesus, centered in Jesus, and beginning with Jesus. I began to learn that it is folly to journey into the Old Testament (or the New Testament) without Jesus as my guide. I committed myself to never venture into the Bible ever again unaccompanied by Jesus.

Lynn Cohick & Amy Brown Hughes, "Christian Women in the Patristic World" - Reflection by Robert Fantauzzi

Lynn H. Cohick and Amy Brown Hughes, Christian Women in the Patristic World: Their Influence, Authority, and Legacy in the Second through Fifth Centuries (Ada, MI: Baker Academic, 2017).  

     One theme that stands out in Cohick & Hughes’ Christian Women in the Patristic World is that of women exercising their agency in a patriarchal world via novel, creative, and subversive ways; this short reflection will focus on four female figures: Thecla, Perpetua, Felicitas, and Blandina to illustrate this creative agency[1]. 

     Starting with Thecla, we see a woman who rejects the Roman status quo and ‘place of women’ by her refusal to marry,[2] but also in her insistence on modesty in public and through her self-expression.[3]  Second, after initially being refused baptism by Paul – over fears that she still may yet fall into temptation – Thecla later declares herself to have been baptised after her ordeal in the pool with the seals; a claim Paul accepts.[4]  When Thecla is faced with fighting in the arena naked, as to humiliate her, she maintains her dignity and agency by telling the Roman governor “…that God has clothed her with salvation” and seeming to imply that she is the one truly clothed whilst the arena crowd – lacking God’s clothing – are the truly naked ones.[5]  Further, during the story of Thecla we can see Roman women in the arena exercising their agency when they, in spite of Roman tradition, begin to cry out against the horrors they are witnessing in the arena with Thecla and the miscarriage of justice.[6]

     With Perpetua, we see a woman exercising her agency by assuming the persona of a male when she is forced to face ‘the Egyptian’ in the arena and she is rubbed with oil by the young men, becoming male herself and defying traditional gender expectations.[7]  As well, Perpetua shows her agency via her numerous rejections of her father’s pleas to drop her Christian witness and make sacrifices, thus defying the traditional Roman custom of pietas.[8]  As Perpetua’s situation becomes more desperate, so do her father’s pleas, but she holds fast to her beliefs and agency, and is even unmoved by his final jailcell appeal.[9]  Finally, Perpetua’s agency is demonstrated in her inversion of traditional expectations of what a woman should attend to; traditionally, this would be “…sustaining the family’s wealth, land, and progeny”[10] but Perpetua’s focus is on “…the eternal fate of her family members.”[11]

     With Felicitas, we see a woman exercising her agency by asking for an early delivery of her baby so that she might meet her death on her terms alongside her fellow Christians, and not be executed later alongside criminals and the like.[12]  As well, Felicitas shows agency via her rejection of traditional Roman expectations for women when she delivers a tongue-lashing to her captors and tormentors when they threaten that her suffering will only increase because of her obstinacy,[13] and through the self-image she holds – not of a slave-girl but a Christ-like figure giving birth to a child.[14]  With Blandina, we see her agency by her refusal to break under torture and resistance to death so that she may also die on her terms,[15] her refusal to break while in the arena,[16] and – most importantly – through her subversion of the destruction of status and humanity that is the arena through her mothering.[17]

Questions for Theoretical discussion:

1. Is part of the reason that we haven’t heard a great deal about the female martyrs and ‘mothers’ because they are actually far more subversive than men? Do their stories and their witness challenge the position of men in the Christian narrative?
2. In the end, was targeting the Roman familial system and attempting to subvert it the right course for Christians to follow?
3. Is Christianity ashamed of the role of women in its past? Is it a matter of shame over the way Christianity has treated women? Is it straight-up misogyny? Does the existing gender arrangement inside the Church currently offer more equal status or is there still a way to go?

Our Refiner's Fire - my foreword to Steve Stewart's "The Beatitudes for a Time of Crisis" - by Brad Jersak

“The Divine Life”

My full immersion into the Beatitudes as a daily practice began on the hiking trails of the North Cascades, where my mentor Ron Dart led me “up on a mountain,
me down, opened his mouth and taught me, saying” (Matt. 5:1-2),

The Divine Life is for those who die to the demands of the ego. Such people will inhabit the Kingdom of Heaven.

The Divine Life is for those who have lived through tragedy and suffering. Such people will be comforted at a deep level.

The Divine Life is for those who bring their passions under
control for goodness. It is such people that will inherit the earth.

The Divine Life is for those who hunger and thirst for justice. Such people will be fed to the full.

The Divine Life is offered to those who are gracious and merciful. Such people will be treated in a merciful and gracious manner.

The Divine Life is offered to those whose Home is clean on the Inside. Such people will know the very presence of God and see His face.

The Divine Life is offered to those who are Makers and Creators of Peace. Such people will be called the children of God.

The Divine Life is known by those who are persecuted for
seeking Justice. Such people will know what it means to live in the Kingdom of Heaven.

The Divine Life is known by those who are mistreated and
misunderstood in their passion for justice. They will inherit the Kingdom of Heaven. The prophets were treated this way in the past.

—Matthew 5:3-12

Ron’s translation of the Beatitudes gripped me from the start. I saw in Christ’s ‘words-made-fresh’ how the death and resurrection of Christ were transposed into the daily life of Christian discipleship. The ‘blessedness’ (Gk. makarios) Jesus describes is itself an ascent (by descent) into the ‘divine life’ (theosis) found on the Way of the Cross (kenosis). The irony of the Beatitudes (and the whole Sermon on the Mount) is that we become most human through self-emptying meekness that actually bankrupts the ego.

Christ overturns every grandiose notion of greatness—divine or human—revealing that the Jesus Way into God’s kingdom is a path marked by humility, meekness and peace. It is the counterintuitive Way for those whom the apostle Peter calls “partakers of the divine nature” (2 Pet. 1:4). A bold statement to be sure—a privilege afforded all those responding to the Lord’s “Follow me.”

The Refiner’s Fire

So it was that I began to pray the Beatitudes daily, inhaling and exhaling alternating lines, modulating between the cruciform blessings and the resurrection outcomes intrinsic to each Beatitude. Over years, my prayer was that in God’s mercy, the repetition would internalize Jesus’ words—driving them deeper than mere behavior modification, finding their way into my character, and bringing about the transformation (lit. transfiguration) Paul describes in 2 Cor. 3:18.

Whatever self-awareness I do have tells me I’ve barely begun that ascent. But what I have noticed is that the Beatitudes sharpen anyone’s discernment if they’re willing to let Christ install these verses in their hearts. Here’s what I mean:

The Psalmist says that the word of the Lord is pure, like silver refined in the furnace seven times (Ps. 12:6). Can you imagine having that level of discernment? What if every alleged ‘word from God’ you heard, whether directly or through the mouth of God’s self-proclaimed spokespersons, were to pass through the Refiner’s fire (Mal. 3:3) seven times? What if that fiery furnace were so hot that no false word could survive its purifying flames?

I believe these Beatitudes comprise that furnace to the n^th-degree. By praying them in the Spirit over and over until they become a sort of spiritual respiration within you, I believe the Lord will install these words as an oven in your soul that devours all that cannot pass as God’s word.

I mentioned grandiosity earlier. I can honestly say that most of the prophetic words I received during the charismatic renewal appealed to my fleshly cravings to achieve greatness—and with God’s rubber stamp of approval. My ego loved to hear God say, “Ask me and I will give you the nations as your inheritance” (forgetting that Ps. 2:8 prophesies the kingship of Christ!). I just knew it was my time for a fresh passport to spiritual fame! Meanwhile, I still haven’t perfected the art of kindness to everyone on my own cul-de-sac.

But what if we were to pass my anticipation of glory through the Beatitudes? Blessed are the poor in spirit (sparks ignite and smoke begins to rise). Blessed are those who mourn (crackle, sizzle). Blessed are the meek (phht! Up in smoke!). And without further ado, I am humbled and maybe just a touch more Christlike. Far better that than climbing my own pedestal for impending humiliation (speaking from experience).

So I am very grateful for the little death of self-centeredness and the resurrection life of Jesus in each Beatitude. And I’m glad for this little furnace of discernment that our Lord provided each of his disciples—a shield of protection from self-deceit and delusion.

Steve Stewart & Impact Nations

That said, doesn’t “Impact Nations” sound a little ambitious? It would if Steve’s Stewart’s growing army of world-servants were hoping to make their mark for themselves and in their own way. Instead, what I see is a company of cruciform disciples who’ve given themselves to self-giving love. The Holy Spirit genius of their mission derives from the tears they weep, their hunger and thirst for justice (dikiosune), and their deep commitment to mercy. They are peacemakers who can rightly be called ‘children of God,’ not because they said the right prayer, believed the right creed, or made the right claim. These are ‘children by imitation’ of the Father who is risky in his generosity and indiscriminate in his kindness.

I say this for hermeneutical reasons: First, if you want to understand the Beatitudes, I commend to you the lives of the Stewart clan and their rowdy entourage. And if you want to understand what makes Steve Stewart and company tick, dive into the life of the Beatitudes. But now I pass the baton for that journey to my dear friend, Steve. He’s a good guide up the mountain because his eyes are ever watching the footsteps of our Rabbi. 

 

Jim Forest's "Writing Straight with Crooked Lines" - Review by Ron Dart

Jim Forest, Writing Straight with Crooked Lines: A Memoir (Orbis Books, 2020).

I first met Jim Forest in the mid-1980s when he was still general secretary of the International Fellowship of Reconciliation (IFOR) and I was on staff with Amnesty International. We met, initially, the old fashioned way (letter writing). Jim and I have stayed in touch since then. Jim and I, working for two different Non-Government Organizations (NGOs) in the area of peace and human rights, indeed, know what it means to be “Beggar-in Chief” (a chapter in Writing Straight with Crooked Lines). We are often expected to run like racehorses yet fed like beggars. But, to the book. The mid-1980s signaled a significant shift in the Cold War, March 1985 Mikhail Gorbachev became general secretary of the Communist Party in the former USSR. Who would have guessed the changes in the USSR and religion in Russia (an important topic and life changer for Jim and his wife Nancy) with Gorbachev coming to power? Many are the chapters in this Memoir of Jim’s trips to Russia, Orthodoxy, and Russian literature. Jim and I have had some lovely email correspondence recently of Boris Pasternak and Dr. Zhivago, 2020 being the 60^th anniversary of Pasternak’s death. Interestingly, as Jim noted in his missive when Nancy Reagan was in Russia with her husband, Ronald Reagan, she took the time to go to Pasternak’s grave. Jim sent Nancy Reagan a photograph of the grave and Nancy Reagan replied in a letter of gratitude. History is, indeed, replete with those small and often ignored acts of transcending the tribalism of ideological culture and political wars.    

Writing Straight with Crooked Lines, in the birthing chapters, dealt with Jim’s parents, parents immersed in Marxist thought and communism, and in McCarthy era America, knowing the paid price for such commitments. There is a poignant sense that Jim was gifted with parents who knew the cost of standing by convictions, convictions perhaps naïve and misguided, yet faithful to a vision. It was this underlying experience that, perhaps, partially, explains Jim’s turn, post naval job, to a form of public Christian faith that was also very much about faithfulness to Christian convictions (Jim’s father and mother, although Marxist, were not anti-religious or anti-Christian). The turn by Jim in the early 1960s to work with the Catholic Worker and Dorothy Day certainly had left of centre tendencies, tendencies inherited from his parental past. Many of the initial chapters in A Memoir deal with Jim’s meandering journey (crooked yet moving in a discernable direction) to an Anglican then Roman Catholic ecclesiology with an engaged peace focus to it. Dorothy Day pointed the way, in time, to Thomas Merton (both significant models and mentors for Jim). Each of the insightful, fast-paced and anecdotal chapters in the autobiography are both a journey with Jim as he moves through time and history but also an overview of the terrain of the time, war, and peace ever at odds.

I might add that most of the black-white photographs in the book are keepers not to miss.

The 1960s-1980s brought Jim into contact with some of those most committed to peace but peace in a just manner: Dan and Phil Berrigan, Thich Nhat Hanh, Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, A.J. Muste, Joan Baez, Al Hassler, Jim Douglass, Adolfo Perez Esquival, Martin Luther King Jr. and many other women and men on the just peace train. The larger public and political issues of peace and unity, so the crooked lines go, took Jim to a variety of marriages that were not about peace but more discord and disunity, separations troubling and painful. It was the meeting with Nancy that brought, for Jim, solid and straight lines, a path to deeper life and love that shines clean and clear in A Memoir, in time, Nancy offering her kidney so Jim’s body could be more at peace.

The almost 70 short yet riveting chapters in this must-read beauty are more than worthy of multiple reads. Much is learned, of course, about Jim’s journey (and many of those he interacted with) but also the cost of being someone concerned for peace and acting on it. The transition of Jim-Nancy to the Orthodox church (given their trips to Russia in the Russian thaw) makes for a window into the glasnost-perestrioka years and, perhaps more importantly, dukhovnost (spiritual life of the people). It would have been interesting to hear Jim’s thoughts on Putin and the state of the Russian Orthodox Church these days. It was somewhat interesting how, in many ways, Henri Nouwen was a healing shepherd to Jim as he was living through a painful marriage crisis, and yet, when Jim/Nancy turned to the Orthodox Tradition,  Nouwen found such a move problematic. Jim’s reflections on this fuller ecclesiology are included in the autobiography with an oft-quoted passage by Merton on uniting the Eastern and Western forms of Christianity.

Writing Straight with Crooked Lines comes to an apt and fitting close with Jim tipping his grateful hat (replete with photographs) to his mentors: Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Thich Nhat Hanh, Daniel Berrigan, Henri Nouwen and Al Hassler-Joan Baez (certainly high-level worthies of the 20^th-21^st centuries peace movements and various types of activism). The final photo (peace fingers held in a joyful way and full-face smiles) is fitting of Jim and Nancy (his decades-long wife who has brought him much peace and many a straight line) on, appropriately, the feast of St. Martha.

Ron Dart             

Jim Forest's "Writing Straight with Crooked Lines" - Review by Ron Dart

Jim Forest, Writing Straight with Crooked Lines: A Memoir (Orbis Books, 2020).

I first met Jim Forest in the mid-1980s when he was still general secretary of the International Fellowship of Reconciliation (IFOR) and I was on staff with Amnesty International. We met, initially, the old fashioned way (letter writing). Jim and I have stayed in touch since then. Jim and I, working for two different Non-Government Organizations (NGOs) in the area of peace and human rights, indeed, know what it means to be “Beggar-in Chief” (a chapter in Writing Straight with Crooked Lines). We are often expected to run like racehorses yet fed like beggars. But, to the book. The mid-1980s signaled a significant shift in the Cold War, March 1985 Mikhail Gorbachev became general secretary of the Communist Party in the former USSR. Who would have guessed the changes in the USSR and religion in Russia (an important topic and life changer for Jim and his wife Nancy) with Gorbachev coming to power? Many are the chapters in this Memoir of Jim’s trips to Russia, Orthodoxy, and Russian literature. Jim and I have had some lovely email correspondence recently of Boris Pasternak and Dr. Zhivago, 2020 being the 60^th anniversary of Pasternak’s death. Interestingly, as Jim noted in his missive when Nancy Reagan was in Russia with her husband, Ronald Reagan, she took the time to go to Pasternak’s grave. Jim sent Nancy Reagan a photograph of the grave and Nancy Reagan replied in a letter of gratitude. History is, indeed, replete with those small and often ignored acts of transcending the tribalism of ideological culture and political wars.    

Writing Straight with Crooked Lines, in the birthing chapters, dealt with Jim’s parents, parents immersed in Marxist thought and communism, and in McCarthy era America, knowing the paid price for such commitments. There is a poignant sense that Jim was gifted with parents who knew the cost of standing by convictions, convictions perhaps naïve and misguided, yet faithful to a vision. It was this underlying experience that, perhaps, partially, explains Jim’s turn, post naval job, to a form of public Christian faith that was also very much about faithfulness to Christian convictions (Jim’s father and mother, although Marxist, were not anti-religious or anti-Christian). The turn by Jim in the early 1960s to work with the Catholic Worker and Dorothy Day certainly had left of centre tendencies, tendencies inherited from his parental past. Many of the initial chapters in A Memoir deal with Jim’s meandering journey (crooked yet moving in a discernable direction) to an Anglican then Roman Catholic ecclesiology with an engaged peace focus to it. Dorothy Day pointed the way, in time, to Thomas Merton (both significant models and mentors for Jim). Each of the insightful, fast-paced and anecdotal chapters in the autobiography are both a journey with Jim as he moves through time and history but also an overview of the terrain of the time, war, and peace ever at odds.

I might add that most of the black-white photographs in the book are keepers not to miss.

The 1960s-1980s brought Jim into contact with some of those most committed to peace but peace in a just manner: Dan and Phil Berrigan, Thich Nhat Hanh, Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, A.J. Muste, Joan Baez, Al Hassler, Jim Douglass, Adolfo Perez Esquival, Martin Luther King Jr. and many other women and men on the just peace train. The larger public and political issues of peace and unity, so the crooked lines go, took Jim to a variety of marriages that were not about peace but more discord and disunity, separations troubling and painful. It was the meeting with Nancy that brought, for Jim, solid and straight lines, a path to deeper life and love that shines clean and clear in A Memoir, in time, Nancy offering her kidney so Jim’s body could be more at peace.

The almost 70 short yet riveting chapters in this must-read beauty are more than worthy of multiple reads. Much is learned, of course, about Jim’s journey (and many of those he interacted with) but also the cost of being someone concerned for peace and acting on it. The transition of Jim-Nancy to the Orthodox church (given their trips to Russia in the Russian thaw) makes for a window into the glasnost-perestrioka years and, perhaps more importantly, dukhovnost (spiritual life of the people). It would have been interesting to hear Jim’s thoughts on Putin and the state of the Russian Orthodox Church these days. It was somewhat interesting how, in many ways, Henri Nouwen was a healing shepherd to Jim as he was living through a painful marriage crisis, and yet, when Jim/Nancy turned to the Orthodox Tradition,  Nouwen found such a move problematic. Jim’s reflections on this fuller ecclesiology are included in the autobiography with an oft-quoted passage by Merton on uniting the Eastern and Western forms of Christianity.

Writing Straight with Crooked Lines comes to an apt and fitting close with Jim tipping his grateful hat (replete with photographs) to his mentors: Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, Thich Nhat Hanh, Daniel Berrigan, Henri Nouwen and Al Hassler-Joan Baez (certainly high-level worthies of the 20^th-21^st centuries peace movements and various types of activism). The final photo (peace fingers held in a joyful way and full-face smiles) is fitting of Jim and Nancy (his decades-long wife who has brought him much peace and many a straight line) on, appropriately, the feast of St. Martha.

Ron Dart             

Jersak & Young's, "The Pastor: A Crisis" - review by Becky Parker

The Pastor: A Crisis - Review by Becky Parker

Before I began this book, I knew I’d be uncomfortable with some of the material. I’d heard an interview in which the authors confirmed that the topic of child sexual abuse was discussed.

Since I am not a victim of sexual assault, I was not afraid of triggering in that regard. I knew that my discomfort would be the deep fear such a topic invokes in me especially as a mother. Even the thought that such abuse could happen to me or one of my children causes me to experience fear and anxiety.

As I read, a realization came to me that I didn’t like to admit. It was not just my fear for my loved ones that made me uncomfortable. It was that my fear and anxiety took a dark turn and produced a mix of condemnation, vengeance, and self-righteousness. This book forced me to take on all these dark expressions of my own fear and anxiety.

The story reveals the devastating damage caused by sexual violence and how not even a perpetrator is exempt. My heart was stirred to compassion for one that I would normally have been quick to condemn to the harshest penalty and just as quickly to elevate myself as one much superior.

The story forced me to look into my own heart to scrutinize and ask the questions: Who do I struggle to love? Can I see the image of God in all people? Do I wish to be the judge of others? How does a desire for vengeance and retribution keep me from being free? Am I glad when I see others forgiven? Do I trust that I am loved and forgiven? Perhaps the most telling: Do I truly wish to see everyone redeemed?

This story was a refining fire for me. I was confronted with one of my worst fears and one of my most steadfast scapegoats, and I realized those two were related and needed confronting in my life. As I know the Lord does not wish any to perish, but all to come to repentance, I know also that as I am made in His image, I should feel the same. If I do not, something is going on within me that should be confronted. Strangely, that is not a burdensome feeling, but freeing.

As “The Pastor” discusses in depth the pain, trauma, and despair that results from sexual abuse, it also moves toward hope. It was this feeling of hope that impressed me throughout the story. Hope of forgiveness, mercy, and healing. It is also a powerful story of surrender and the need for self-forgiveness, and the alternative of self-destructive coping mechanisms that we cling to.

“The Pastor” resonates with all of us. Those who have suffered abuse in its many forms, those grappling with a disheartened view of religion, and all of us who, at some time, have struggled with offering forgiveness or accepting love.

The Bruderhof - "Another Life is Possible" - Review & Reflections by Brad & Eden Jersak

Another Life is Possible – Insights from 100 years of Life Together

Another Life is Possible (Plough, 2020) arrived on our doorstep not long ago. Eden picked up the package and felt its physical weight, but we no idea how its physical size would be outweighed by the contents within the book’s covers. In this reflection, both Brad and Eden will respond. Eden first:

Another Life is Possible is possibly the most stunning book I (Eden) have ever worked through.

I (Eden) grew up in a Mennonite community (though not living “IN” community), and I feel a strong affinity to the Bruderhof. I resonate with the spirit of peace and pacifism, and the desire to work together to make change, instead of being lone agents. Having family close, eating together, working hard and sharing a purpose all tick the imaginary boxes in my heart.

All the technical components come together in this book. The pictures are breathtaking, capturing not only the form of each subject, but the very essence of them. The history and timeline of this community are laid out in a very clear and understandable way. The personal reflections allow you to enter into individual stories, their history, passions, paths to the Bruderhof and more. It is very nearly like being invited into each of their homes, or at the very least sitting across the table from them with a cuppa in hand.

Imagine if you could live your life at the intersection of your calling and vocation, and not have to feel the constant tension our culture generates to go in one direction after another to prove yourself. It is entirely possible to know your neighbours, to live your life in an environment where peace is a priority, and there are no “Jones” to keep up with.

The community has found a way to separate themselves from the “world,” while entering right back into it as agents of change, bringing practical hope, life and love to those who are vulnerable to being lost in the cracks of our society.

What is most moving to me (Eden) is the seamless way the gifts, callings, and ministries dovetail together.

This tribute to 100 years of The Bruderhof is a fantastically beautiful volume of photos, stories and glimpses into a life that this community has toiled to create. Their stories are authentic, relatable and help to demonstrate that another way is not only possible but the potential to thrive is plausible!

Barry Morris's "A Faithful Public-Prophetic Witness" - Review by Ron Dart

A Faithful Public-Prophetic Witness: 
Dynamics, Challenges, and Ambiguities of Success
in Urban & Community Ministries

Wipf & Stock: Eugene: Oregon, 2020

Barry Morris

Barry Morris is one of those rare yet needful ministers who not only have been faithful to urban and community ministries, but, equally significant and importantly so, he has judiciously wed substantive theology to such a vision and lived out such a knitting in inner-city urban and community ministries. This, the most recent book by Barry, fleshes out in greater depth and detail, his ongoing reflections on these multilayered issues.

A Faithful Public-Prophetic Witness begins with a thoughtful and engaged meditation on the challenges that will confront those who dwell in the midst of such a commitment. Then, true to form, Barry ponders three possible areas worth the turning to for wisdom and insights: “The Toronto Christian Resource Centre”, “Victoria BC” and “Vancouver BC’s Streams of Justice”. This timely and timeless book of sorts concludes, rightly so, with lessons learned from such in the trenches of urban life and an anatomy of “What Constitutes Success in an Urban Ministry?” The answer, needless to say, does hold before the reader and those in the thick of urban ministry a legitimate and perennial question mark. How, indeed, is such success to be measured within such a lived reality and is the notion of success a word worth using in such a context?

The three sites that Barry visits (Toronto, Victoria, Vancouver), although different in many ways, share certain affinities in their obvious challenges and each of these chapters does significant dives into the more demanding details of such lived communal realities (ideals held high but never easy to maintain over the longer journey).

Chapter four is particularly pertinent to the Lower Mainland and Vancouver area. There can be no doubt that Grandview Calvary Baptist Church (GCBC) has been at the forefront of being a public-prophetic witness at a variety of levels: educational and activist. The Streams of Justice (SoJ) group that has faithfully attempted to embody grassroots activism has, in many ways, significant affinities, as a Baptist congregation, with Tommy Douglass and Martin Luther King. Jr. Barry, to his credit, reveals to the interested reader, the journey of GCBC-SoJ as they have, in their faithful way and manner, lived an honest yet imperfect witness in the inner city of Vancouver (downtown Eastside a focus).    

The title of the book speaks much as does the subtitle. The urban church (particularly the urban church that works with those on the margins) is meant to be faithful but faithful in a way that is both public and prophetic—certainly not an easy vocation. And, the subtitle, rightly so, sums up such a reality---being dynamic, ongoing challenges and multiple ambiguities, success always, in many ways, protean and ambiguous, transient and fragile. There are, of course, many successful churches (if success is measured by numbers), but to be a successful public and prophetic church is yet a deeper challenge---much more maturity needed indeed. When success is measured not by numbers but by ethical and prophetic integrity, the numbers do dwindle to the faithful few (who are so often tempted by the demon of failure---a consistent tempter).

A Faithful Public-Prophetic Witness is a fine and needful companion read to Barry’s earlier must-read books: The Word on the Street (1991) and Hopeful Realism in Urban Ministry (2016). As mentioned above, Barry is one of those rare yet needful people who both are in the centre of the demanding fray yet also have the wits to reflect and ponder what makes for a meaningful exegetical and theological way to journey forward and onward. There are activists who tend not to think too deeply and intellectuals who never play chess games with ideas but rarely enter the fray. Barry, to his credit, has lived such a trying tension, and, in many ways, A Faithful Public-Prophetic Witness reflects such a tightrope walk well done.

Ron Dart        

Robyn Wrigley-Carr’s "The Spiritual Formation of Evelyn Underhill" – Review by Ron Dart

He footed it well and she answered him handsomely

—Bunyan

Much significant work has been done on the life and prolific writing of Evelyn Underhill (certainly one of the most significant writers on the mystical life in the first half of the 20^thcentury), but the research done on the impact of Baron von Hugel on Underhill has tended to be leaner, thinner and less developed. The sheer beauty and brilliance of this recent book by Robyn on Underhill is the way the close and symbiotic relationship between von Hugel and Underhill is carefully and thoughtfully tracked and traced. The fact that Eugene Peterson wrote a rather lengthy “Foreword” to the book, carefully noting his significant indebtedness to von Hugel, should alert the curious and interested in learning more about von Hugel: both Underhill and Peterson (and many others mentored into greater depths of the faith journey by this multilayered director of sorts).

Robyn, to her well-researched credit (her PhD done on von Hugel), does a chapter by chapter round dance between von Hugel and Underhill, photos of both of them, like welcoming portals, inviting us to see and hear them. This compact and rewarding read of a book is divided into six enticing sections (I read the bounty in two days—hard to turn away from it).  As mentioned above, Eugene Peterson did the incisive “Foreword.” Once done, the plane leaves the tarmac.

1) “Introducing the Baron” makes for a pleasant overview of his engaged and careful life, a life that modeled a broad and truly catholic vision and vocation.

2) “Introducing Evelyn Underhill” answers chapter one handsomely, von Hugel having footed it well in the previous chapter. Those with some background in Underhill’s pilgrimage through time will find this a lovely refresher chapter and those new to Underhill a fine primer.

3) “The Baron’s spiritual formation of Evelyn Underhill” brings the two dancers together, the nature of the eternal dance and steps to be learned and revealed well and wisely.

4) “Motherhood of souls: Evelyn the spiritual director” ponders how Underhill picked up the torch offered her by von Hugel and rethought and restated much of his insights in a more accessible way and manner, Underhill no uncritical devotee of von Hugel, the best of him internalized by Underhill as a mother of souls.

5) “Motherhood of souls: Evelyn the retreat director” moves the discussion from Underhill as a prolific writer on mysticism and directee of von Hugel to the practical and regular giving of retreats by Underhill (something von Hugel never did). The finale or “Afterword” to The Spiritual Formation of Evelyn Underhill brings together (dance steps learned well and wisely) the way Von Hugel, Underhill and Peterson have formed, in many ways, Robyn’s emerging vocation and charism, a variety of passages from Peterson’s books and emails to Robyn from Peterson included to end the book, Robyn being a student of Peterson when she studied at Regent College in the days when Peterson was there. I might also add the copious “Notes” and “References” make this a book worth many a meditative read and inward digesting.

It might have been interesting to ponder, given the years that von Hugel (1852-1925) and Underhill (1875-1941) were alive and active in the English context, how they understood the catholic relationship between contemplation, church, ecclesial ecumenism and substantive public and political issues that Anglican Divines such as F.D. Maurice, Charles Gore, Percy Dearmer and Conrad Noel embodied. I might add that there is a brief but touching correspondence between Underhill and C.S. Lewis, initiated by Underhill in her waning years before Lewis had waxed.

I have been fond of Evelyn Underhill for many decades and read Baron von Hugel also, but this is the best book to date that threads together, in a well-woven tapestry, the impact of von Hugel on Underhill and the way Underhill internalized the best of von Hugel and passed the gift and torch on to others, including C.S. Lewis, Eugene Peterson and Robyn Wrigley-Carr—many thanks to Robyn for such a charmer of a book.

Perhaps a fitting adieu to the review might best be summed by Bob Cratchit’s response to the fine feast his wife prepared for the family Christmas dinner:  “A triumph, my dear, another triumph.”

Ron Dart                            

Douglas Campbell's Pauline Dogmatics - Review by Matt Hyam

A Review of Pauline Dogmatics, by Douglas Campbell, Eerdmans, 2020.

“Theology is the linguistic outworking in truth of our developing love affair with the God revealed in Jesus.”[1]

When this book arrived, it needed two people to carry it, as it is only slightly smaller than my car, [2] and when I finished it, I was certainly expecting to be presented with a t-shirt proclaiming, “Pauline Dogmatics – Finisher 2020”. Alas, this never happened.

First, I should say that I find it hard to even wrap my head around the idea of how someone could write this book. As the name suggests, it is essentially Campbell’s take on “theology according to Paul”, which, as you can imagine, covers a huge range of topics. I take my hat of to him because, to be able to have such a strong grasp on such a broad range of things and to be so familiar with Paul is simply incredible.

Second, I should say that I loved the book and I think that, if you have a big enough house to store a copy, you should read it! It is absolutely fantastic. Campbell has made me rethink things that I did not know were even up for rethinking. His insight is only matched by the amply evident pastoral care that is at the core of everything that he says. That said, given the huge scope of the book, it would be worrying if I agreed with everything, but we can come onto that.

Second, the core of this thesis is Campbell’s challenge to foundationalism, by which (I think) he means theology built on anything other than the revelation of God through Jesus. This theme runs through the book and is reviewed in every chapter and topic. The fundamental premise is that by starting with another foundation than Jesus, we end up building in dangerous way. If we read Paul’s letters, “in terms of a fundamentally legalistic and retributive God, and in terms of a punitive atonement and contractual salvific terms,” then we end up with “a deep misreading of Paul’s gospel…and the destructive ramifications of false accounts of the gospel are far-reaching.” [3] Campbell’s contrasting of this with an understanding that, “the revealed truth about the nature of God in Jesus is a gift from God to us, and this particular gift is one over which we have absolutely no jurisdiction,” [4] is highly significant and applied throughout his book to various subjects to challenge assumptions. He unveils the subsequent dangerous dogmatics that many have embraced, and helps us to see, and undo, much misunderstanding in much of Western interpretation of Paul.

CLICK here to continue reading review

 

[1] Pauline Dogmatics, 314.

[2] This is sarcasm, for those of you not familiar with British humour.

[3] Pauline Dogmatics, 741-2.

[4] Ibid,33.

Book Review: Dart and Packer, "Christianity and Pluralism" - by Wayne Northey

Book Review of Christianity and Pluralism, Ron Dart and J. I. Packer, Lexham Press, 2019; 70 pages. 

Wayne Northey: This brief missive offers much to consider and chew on.

In this reviewer’s experience, there is none so fundamentalist as one who has grown to reject what once was held near and dear. (Not of course, that such rejection automatically predisposes one to fundamentalism.) I have lived for decades with not a few in my extended family. Dart writes again in the new Preface:

It is not very liberal of a liberal not to critique liberalism. But many liberals seem unable to question their blind spots—such is the nature of ideology. They signal openness to the legitimate nature of alternate readings of timely and timeless issues, yet they are actually closed to such. (p. ix)

Though one must feel for those genuinely harmed or worse by religious fundamentalists—or any kind of such. A sordid business. Dart ends the Preface with this sentence:

Pluralism and syncretism can be as exclusivist as any of the positions they rail against as being exclusive.(p. ix)

I reflect in part on my experience of this within our extended family on my website post, Easter Song.

Chapter 1 begins with a review of Ingham’s book by Dart. Ron welcomes the issues raised by Ingham, which of course in the twenty-first century are pressing on any faith tradition new or old the world over. There are ten points Dart adduces, hoping that “these questions will nudge the issues raised in Mansions of the Spirit to a deeper level and enrich the meaning of dialogue.” (p. 2)

Irenic throughout, Ron concludes on a personal note:

As someone who has been taught and nurtured by the radical Anglo-Catholics, I find that Mansions of the Spirit lacks a rigorous mystical theology, a radical politics, and a high Christology-ecclesiology. I think, without such a full vision of what Christianity has been, is, and ever shall be, inter-faith dialogue will lack a certain depth and challenging honesty. (p. 8)

Before Christmas I was at a gathering of mainly Anglicans to celebrate a vicar’s birthday. In conversation with a former rector attending St. Matthew’s Anglican Church in Abbotsford, as we began chatting he mentioned that Church. I asked for clarification as to which he meant, since there had been a Church split several years ago over in part the direction Bishop Ingham had taken the diocese. The sharp retort was that there is only one real Anglican Church in Abbotsford by that name; that he didn’t know “whatever else” the other was. In that I joined Sons of the Holy Cross, a men’s Order through induction by that “whatever-else” Church of which Ron Dart is a member, I felt taken aback. I of course know of no back story to his comments. But I know the Anglican Tradition (and that Church) enough to know it has charitably housed not a few disparate expressions of faith over 2,000 plus years, of which the “whatever-else” Church is as authentically Anglican as any other. In my experience, fundamentalists of whatever stripe seem lacking in embrace of charitable dialogue. The former rector in that brief encounter seemed not interested in such dialogue . . . thus adding one more fundamentalist instance to my experience.

CLICK HERE to continue reading