Drinking Well from Other’s Wells Reading Sacred Texts – Four Invitations
Address by Bradley Jersak at the "Peace through the Reconcilation of Our Holy Books" interfaith conference on 9-11.
By Bradley Jersak
Your Excellencies, Sisters and Brothers in God’s expansive family,
Grace and Peace,
Today I would like to express my gratitude for our common commitment to peacemaking and to share four brief reflections about reading one another’s sacred texts with openness, respect, and wonder. I was personally raised in a tradition of religious certitude where we were all too convinced that our provincial faith and our particular way of reading our Scriptures defined the sealed boundaries of truth. Regardless of whether what I share in this paper resonates with others, I sincerely hope that you will hear my good-faith repentance for the narrowness I am still overcoming.
In my attempts to drink well from the wells of other Holy Books, I’ve developed four invitations that I will briefly clarify and illustrate. My sense is that reading well includes the following:
I invite us to read well from each other’s Scriptures with open hearts, attentive to points of connection.
I invite us to read well from each other’s Scriptures, seeing them as unique songs to the One True God.
I invite us to consider how others read their own Scriptures.
I invite us to consider how others read our Scriptures.
“Blessed are the peacemakers. They shall be called children of God.”
—Jesus
I write this testimony of God’s grace while the events are still fresh in my mind and warm in my heart.
For the anniversary of 9-11, I was invited to participate in an international gathering of Peacemakers from the three major Abrahamic religions (Christianity, Islam, Judaism), including various scholars, activists, imams, and rabbis from across the globe. The title of the conference was "PEACE through the Reconciliation of Our Holy Books"
It was truly an amazing and beautiful day!
I was so thrilled with each of the presenters and, just as much, their attentive and gracious responses to one another.
I was personally very moved by Dr. Safi Kaskas’ leadership. My Muslim brother and Qur’anic scholar spoke some very kind words about our first encounters that brought back precious memories.
I was very impressed by the quality of the speakers that Safi assembled, and all on such short notice that we both recognized God’s hand in swinging open these doors to dialogue.
The speakers showed remarkable expertise and clarity about many pressing issues in the world today and an uncanny knack for addressing tender topics without condemnation of the Other. This was evident as we expressed remorse for the sins of our own movements, along with the willingness to advocate for the vulnerable.
Specifically, Muslim representatives denounced the violence done on September 11 by fellow radicalized Muslims, Christian representatives repudiated our violent response through the so-called “war on terror,” and Rabbi Lynn, for example, issued a clear call for the state of Israel to repent and practice equity toward the Palestinian people.
In some ways, none of that surprised me, but I was delighted that several of the talks (back-to-back, unplanned except in heaven) brought into focus the injustices done toward indigenous people and the need for reparations. There was nothing in Safi’s invitation that indicated we should or could ‘go there,’ but I had the strong sense that it was a topic heavy on God’s heart and his people were tuned in.
All of that was very, very good. But I want to shift to the highlight of the day, when the ‘felt presence’ of God flooded our solemn assembly with joy and tears.
Our friend Mercy Aiken, a Christian peace activist and bridgebuilder, began to expound on Jesus’ words from Luke 19. She said, “On his way to the cross, we read about one of the few times that we hear Jesus wept. He is approaching Jerusalem, and the gospel says,
41 And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it, 42 saying, “Would that you, even you, had known on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.”
Mercy emphasized that phrase, “Now they are hidden from your eyes,” to lament the terrible spiritual blindness that has caused each of the Abrahamic religions to choose hatred, violence, and war over “the things that make for peace.” The fact that the way to peace has remained hidden to us is both tragic and obvious, especially when we consider Jerusalem as a geographical and symbolic center for millennia of conflicts… between the very faiths gathered at the conference.
Through those words, a powerful sense of sobriety descended and in my headphones, I heard quiet groans of awareness expressed. What are we to do? At just the right moment, Mercy began to spontaneously intercede that the Holy Spirit would mercifully open our eyes and draw us back onto the way of peace.
And then I was stunned to tears, as were others, as she responded to her own challenge with a song of invocation—a Muslim worship chorus—“Open Your Eyes” by Maher Zain. I believe she sang these lyrics:
Open our eyes, our hearts and minds If we just look right, we'll see the signs We can't keep hiding from the truth And let it take us by surprise Protect us in the best way Guide us every single day Keep us close to You Until the end of time
(please watch the full song HERE and I have embedded it at the end of this article)
Tears began to stream down my cheeks; I saw others wiping their eyes; an Imam posted Jesus’ words into the group chat; and as soon as Mercy finished, one of the Muslim men asked, “Could you also please sing a song for our Christian and Jewish brothers and sisters?”
Mercy responded, “Well, that sone really was meant for all of us… But I did think about that, too, in case it came up. So here is a song from the Jewish Scriptures that Christians also love to sing:
For Thou, O Lord, art high above all the earth Thou art exalted far above all gods For Thou, o Lord, art high above all the earth Thou art exalted far above all gods
I exalt Thee, I exalt Thee I exalt Thee, O Lord I exalt Thee, I exalt Thee I exalt Thee, O Lord
(you can see this song HERE and again, it's embedded at the end)
I could tell we were on holy ground, in a transcendent moment—we were encountering the heart of God as constructive dialogue gave way to worship in spirit and in truth, described and yes, prophesied by Jesus when he said in John 4 (MSG),
21 “The time is coming—it has, in fact, come—when what you’re called will not matter and where you go to worship will not matter.
23-24 “It’s who you are and the way you live that count before God. Your worship must engage your spirit in the pursuit of truth. That’s the kind of people the Father is out looking for: those who are simply and honestly themselves before him in their worship. God is sheer being itself—Spirit. Those who worship him must do it out of their very being, their spirits, their true selves, in adoration.”
How did we get there? I believe it’s because God’s heart for peace and justice must be so broken that one whiff of that aroma draws his manifest presence in a heartbeat. So many of our religious meetings have not only ignored peace and justice—worldwide, our churches (I’ve seen it), synagogues, and mosques alike have been infested with hate, propaganda, and sermons encouraging vengeance and death-dealing. It’s an ancient problem.
The Jewish prophet Amos (5:21-24 MSG), speaking for God, prophesies,
“I can’t stand your religious meetings. I’m fed up with your conferences and conventions. I want nothing to do with your religion projects, your pretentious slogans and goals. I’m sick of your fund-raising schemes, your public relations and image-making. I’ve had all I can take of your noisy ego-music. When was the last time you sang to me? Do you know what I want? I want justice—oceans of it. I want fairness—rivers of it. That’s what I want. That’s all I want.
In my view, this conference served as an act of living repentance for just that problem.
This gathering exceeded my expectations, and I believe the individual recordings (forthcoming) will make a powerful series with the potential for long-term and widespread impact. Even better, I pray that our encounter would lead to lasting new friendships and created networks that extend beyond what we can ask or imagine... and that those who watch will experience the insights and wonder that were such a gift to me.
With love and gratitude,
Bradley Jersak
Conference Participants
HOSTS: Nahid Saiyed Paul Armstrong
SPEAKERS: Safi Kaskas Brad Jersak Samira Benturki Saidi Mark Braverman Muhammad Eissa Rabbi Lynn Gottlieb Tariq Mustafa Mercy Aiken Dawud Abdur-Rahman Rabbi Steve Weisman Daisy Khan
The Whole Mystery of Christ: Creation as Incarnation in Maximus the Confessor by Jordan Daniel Wood Foreword by Fr. John Behr
A thoroughgoing examination of Maximus the Confessor's singular theological vision through the prism of Christ's cosmic and historical Incarnation.
Notre Dame Press has graciously granted Clarion permission to post Dr. Wood's PREFACE to the book here.
Readers can also CLICK HERE to visit this 15-minute video introduction where Jordan Daniel Wood lays out the essence and purpose of The Whole Mystery of Christ.
Perhaps the last serious Western reader of Maximus Confessor (580–662 AD), prior to the twentieth century at least, was the Irish monk, prodigious translator of significant Greek fathers (Maximus among them), and court theologian John Scotus Eriugena (815–77 AD). Eriugena attributes many insights to Maximus. He credits Maximus with special insight into the riddle of the world’s procession from God. And so he writes in the preface to his versio Latina of Maximus’s Ambigua ad Iohannem:
To mention a few of many points, [Maximus most lucidly explains] in what way the Cause of all things, who is God, is both a simple and manifold One: what sort of procession there is—and here I mean the multiplication of divine Goodness through all the things which are— which descends from the summit all the way down, first through the general essence of all things, then through the most general genera, then through less general genera, still further through more specific species right into the most specific species, even into differentia and properties. And again, concerning the same divinity, we see what sort of reversion of Goodness there is—I mean the gathering together, through those same grades, from the things that exist in infinite diversity and multiplicity right up to that simplest unity of all things, which is in God and which God is. So [we see] that God is all things and all things are God. And [we understand] indeed in what way this divine procession into all things is called ἀναλυτικὴ, that is, unraveling, but reversion [is called] θέωσις—deification.1
Maximus taught Eriugena how the light of God’s ineffable transcendence most glitters when we see that and how God and the created world are “one and the same.”2 And to see this you need the crucial lens Maximus cuts: the “primordial reasons” of all things not only find their eternal ground in the Word of God, they “are the very [Word] Himself.”3 God and world are identical because the one Word is both.
Video 1 - THE RINGS OF TOLKIEN & WAGNER - Similarities & Differences
Ron Dart discusses the common themes shared by Richard Wagner's Opera, "The Ring of Nibelung" and J.R.R. Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings." Ron notes the allure and perils of the ring, the two dragons, and how both Brunehilde and Arwyn set love as a greater good than even their own immortality. Dart then discusses differences, particularly in how Tolkien's series ends with a comedic or happy outcome while Wagner after the climax explores the tragic in the Nordic tradition of Ragnorok.
Video 2 - WAGNER'S SIEGFRIED
Ron then considers "Siegfried," the third part (or Act 2) of the four music dramas that constitute Wagner's "Ring of Nibelungen."
Wagner's "Ring of the Nibelung" is a cycle of four operas that tell the story of the hero Siegfried and a magic ring. In this third session on Wagner's "The Ring of the Nibelung, Ron Dart completes his talk on "The Rhinegold" (the preliminary scenes of the Opera cycle), then walks us through Act I: The Valkyrie.
Wagner's "Ring of the Nibelung" is a cycle of four operas that tell the story of the hero Siegfried and a magic ring.
These four operas are The Rhine Gold, The Valkyrie, Siegfried, and Twilight of the Gods. Borrowing from German and Norse tales, poems, sagas, and mythology, Wagner's main source was a German poem called "The Song of the Nibelungs" (circa 1200 AD).
Wagner's opera is certainly a precursor and had an influence on Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings." In this series, Ron Dart walks through the archetypal significance of the opera's themes and characters, beginning here with the first two scenes of the first opera, "The Rhine Gold."
Previously, Ron's offered this brief reflection to the whole work:
Deconstruction: Trendy brand name for falling away from belief in God? Or a process essential to authentic faith? Liberation or trauma? Prison break or exile? It’s complicated. Just like you. Christian history records a Great Reformation and a Great Awakening. But today’s “Great Deconstruction” will surely leave an equally profound impact.
In Out of the Embers, Bradley Jersak explores the necessity, perils, and possibilities of the Great Deconstruction—how it has the potential to either sabotage our communion with God or infuse it with the breath of life, the light and life of Christ himself.
In this collection of vulnerable memoirs, philosophical memos, and candid provocations, Jersak resists both the hand-wringing urge to corral stray sheep and the exultant desire to play the happy-clappy Ex-vangelical cheerleader. He employs the wisdom and expertise of the great deconstructionists—Christianity’s ancient influences (Moses, Plato, Paul, and the Patristics), “beloved frenemies” (from Voltaire to Nietzsche), and the masters of deconstruction (Dostoevsky, Kierkegaard, and Weil)—to double down and deconstruct deconstruction itself. Where is faith after deconstruction?
The author’s heart is to engage and empathize with the bereft and disoriented, stoking the brittle ashes for live embers. In this quest for the resilient gospel of the martyrs, the marginal, and those outside the threshold...inexplicably, in this liminal space, life stirs.
A Light shines through the ashes. We find, often for the first time, that living connection Jersak calls “presence in communion.” There is a sea change occurring across the Western church and civilization. Whether we’re watching a radical course correction or a complete collapse remains to be seen, and how it pans out will likely depend on how we see what’s happening, who we are becoming, how we live in response—and, most important, where we find Christ situated in this storm.
With great joy, I have for a decade followed Fr. Aiden Kimel as he forged a path of inquiry that unveiled answers, advanced an exploration that yielded discovery, and posited a hope that became deep conviction—for me and in many others. His biblical,historical, and philosophicalposts have completely convinced me that the apokatastasis panton (the restoration of all things) is not merely a doctrinally tolerable idea—it is, as Kimel says, “the gospel of Christ’s absolute and unconditional love sung in an eschatological key.”
As he has faithfully posted his treasury of findings, I have come to believe without reserve in Christ’s bold claim that through his Passion he will indeed draw all of humanity and the entire cosmos to himself. For that reason, I now see apokatastasis as intrinsic and indispensable to proclaiming the ancient gospel in this fraught and faltering century.
In Destined for Joy, Kimel has gathered a “best of” collection of his insights that, together, paint a vista I cannot unsee, and wouldn’t ever want to!
Even for those who follow Fr. Aiden’s posts regularly, Destined for Joy is well worth reviewing and having on hand as a definitive resource. The book faithfully and creatively reflects the faith of those great saints of the past (Origen, Macrina, Gregory of Nyssa, Isaac of Nineveh, Maximos the Confessor, Silouan the Athonite, and yes, George MacDonald) and the boldest minds of our era (Sergius Bulgakov, Robert W. Jenson, Thomas Talbott, Ilaria Ramelli, David Bentley Hart, John Behr). It also offers essential and sometimes startling corrections, revealing, for example, how the fifth-century anathemas against Origenism—long thought to have decisively condemned universal salvation—were never conciliar or even synodal. Kimel demonstrates that they amount to nothing but an imperial edict that has no doctrinal authority. He has at last firmly closed the door on centuries of misconception, divorced the anathemas from the Fifth Ecumenical Council, and removed them from the Infernalist arsenal.
But by far, his most powerful contribution to me personally (by accumulated 'convincement') was guiding me to this very simple question: Does the New Testament foresee the salvation of all or doesn't it?Clearly, it does. Repeatedly. Unequivocally. And all the “But what about . . . ?”counterpoints fail to address these Scriptures directly. Regardless of the difficulties we have interpreting judgment texts or harmonizing them with ultimate redemption, Christ and his apostles tell us how it all ends: "God will be all and in all.” But nothing. Full stop. Amen and hallelujah!
Theissue of 'the End' now boils down to these questions for me:
a. Do the Scriptures require a free and willing faith response to Jesus Christ? Yes! Many times.
b. Do theScriptures forecast a final judgment? Yes! Many times.
c. Do the Scriptures foresee the salvation of all? Yes! Dozens of times.
How can all three of these statements be true without marginalizing any of the pertinent biblical texts? They can only all work if:
a. Death has been defeated so that a free and willing post-mortem response is possible. It has been.
b. The judgments of God are restorative and penultimate rather than retributive and ultimate. They are.
c. The human will is healed and freed from its delusions so we can freely respond to perfect Love when we see Christ face to face. I call this a 'freed will' response. It will be.
While we can pile Scripture upon Scripture to verify these truths, I repeat, we have Jesus Christ's overt claim in John's Gospel: "If I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself."
And we have the End described in expressly inclusive ways . . . every eye shall see him, every knee shall bow, every tongue will confess, God shall be all and in all. What others regard as exclusive conditions to this outcome, apokatastasis enfolds as the necessary means. The Incarnation, the Cross and Resurrection, faith in Christ, restorative judgment according to the first Christians—these are the means by which the foretold glorious, all-inclusive End will surely come about.
I can make these audacious assertions without presumption because whatever warrant our faith needs to embrace them, Destined for Joy offers in abundance. Over to you, Fr. Aiden.
Monika B. Hilder, Letters to Annie: A Grandmother’s Dreams of Fairy Tale Princesses, Princes, & Happily Ever After (FriesenPress, 2022).
Review by Ron Dart
“And I must say, girl, I can’t think of a more exciting field of study than the one of theology, imagination, and the arts”—and so ends Monika Hilder’s beauty of a book, Letters to Annie, 33 letters written by Omi Barbara from the time Annie was born to her 25th birthday, Omi being eighty-eight when the final missive was penned.
There is a wise and generous, gracious and kindly way that Monika weaves together the perennial wisdom of multiple fairy tales, the layered life lessons packed into such tales, and the careful knitting together of Biblical insights and fairy tales in this must-read of a book.
I was reminded, as I sat with each letter, in a different way of more than Erasmus’ 4000 adages (with commentary and annotations) and Myth Made Fact: Reading Greek and Roman Mythology through Christian Eyes by Louis Markos. Both Markos and Hilder draw deeply from the grace-filled wisdom of myth and fairy tales, and both are substantively grounded in the mother lode of the Inklings (mentors and friends), MacDonald, Lewis, Sayers, Tolkien, Chesterton, and L’Engle, given their needful nods and due. We are also, given their significance in the fairy tale genre, walking side by side with Grimm, Andersen, Wilde, and Perrault, and the timeless beauty of Shakespeare and Milton offering us their epic vision in tales told.
There is an underlying theme and thesis in Letters to Annie that needs to be pondered and unpacked in a needful way. We dwell in an ethos of much cynicism and deconstruction—such a path walked too far can and does lead to soul and life paralysis and impotence. Most cynics are not cynical of cynicism just as most deconstructionists lack the courage to deconstruct deconstructionism. The epic vision of life that myths, fairy tales, Shakespeare, Milton, the Inklings, and the Bible offer has been marginalized and is held with a great deal of suspicion in our ethos. When we turn from the large macro-vision of the human journey, we often shrink to micro-tales in the culture wars just as when the secular negates the sacred, the secular becomes the sacred—therefore the human soul, mind, and imagination, shrinks and goes round and round in the smallest circle turns, as Rilke rightly noted when such moves are made. Letters to Annie comes as a challenge to such an approach to thought, word, and deed, and does so as a thoughtful grandmother kindly and sensitively shepherds her ever-growing granddaughter throughout her first 25 years of life, a dream vision of enchantment via fairy tales: the sacred and magic key.
There is in fairy tales, as in myths, the notion that the journey is fraught with challenges and perils, “Agon” is the Greek word from which we get agony, protagonist, antagonist, or Milton’s Samson’s Agonistes. The future path of each protagonist and antagonist (princesses, princes, witches, ogres, dragons, etc.) in fairy tales and myths is about growing into the challenges (“agon”) of the journey and, for the most part, overcoming, and in the overcoming of the challenges becoming a fairer, finer, and more mature princess and prince, “happily ever after,” the oft contested ending when real life meets fairy tale. Monika, to her credit, visits, again and again, this “happily ever after” ending to many fairy tales, such approaches more comedic than tragic. There is much massaging of such an approach to the life-fairy tale tension as more nuance and refinement is pondered in Letters to Annie, no flinching from the hard questions of sadness, suffering, and the tragic on our all too human journey. Letters to Annie does cover many of the disappointments, betrayals, and confusions of the faith and life journey and the dangers such challenges pose to the aspiring (or not so aspiring) princesses and princes—many discerning insights can be gleaned, when read wisely and well, from fairy tales—Monika certainly asks of her readers much deeper and layered reads of such classic tales, tales sadly so domesticated and sanitized by the Disney industry.
I worked with Amnesty International for about 15 years, and in those years I met many a noble princess and prince who for a variety of reasons faced into the unjust political context of their time and suffered terribly (some tortured to death, others years of solitary confinement, some freed from their cells but psychological damage for the rest of their years)—in short, decidedly no “happily ever after”. I’m married into a family of German Roman Catholics who opposed Hitler in the 1930s, many within the family were sent to death camps and exterminated, some slowly starving to death, others housed with those who had multiple illnesses and diseases—good people but goodness crucified with no resurrection in time or history. Most of us have favourite novels—Doctor Zhivago is in my top ten. The finale to Zhivago is Zhivago’s tender poems, and a poem that is repeated is “Fairy Tale” about the perennial prince who is meant to slay the dragon and rescue the princess. “Fairy Tale” by Zhivago, though, has the dragon unseating the prince, the horse charging the dragon, both damaged beyond repair, prince and princess, future unclear and unsure, in an ambiguous place—certainly no “happily ever after”. I have also watched many dear friends die slow, slower and sad deaths, years of physical suffering, drugged to prevent intense pain.
I agree with Monika that cynicism is a cul-de-sac, and it is essential when facing into the dire tragedies that war, poverty, political conflicts, and much else create that we seriously know how to tell fairy tales that discern how to live within the comedic-tragic tension, God the Shepherd and Father (to use but two classical Biblical metaphors) often silent, eclipsed or seemingly absent. And we can’t only explain the tragic by a flaw in the character of those who suffer as did Aristotle or many of Shakespeare’s tragic characters.
How do we, in short, infuse the tragic into the “exciting field” of theology, imagination, and the arts that includes the comedic and the tragic, that includes “happily ever after,” but prevents such a position from becoming a bromide that ignores the stubborn and obstinate nature of the tragic? Such is the future of fairy tales and myths.
Here is the revelation that is shaping my life today: love does everything to recapture my heart, with the purpose of doing everything to restore my heart.
13 We always have to thank God for you, brothers and sisters, for you are dearly loved by the Lord. He proved it by choosing you from the beginning for salvation through the Spirit, who set you apart for holiness, and through your belief in the truth. 14 To this end he handpicked you for salvation through the gospel so that you would have the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ.
-2 Thessalonians 2:13-14 (TPT)
Observation
Salvation comes as you receive the good news that you have always been loved, and that Love has already saved you. The proof that you are loved is in Love's choosing you and declaring ‘saved’ over your life. Salvation that has already happened (past-tense salvation) restores me to an intimate relationship with God. This is gifted to me by Love. I don’t earn, deserve it, or play any role but receive the good news that Love has loved me back into Love's arms. And that these arms of Love will hold me safely in salvation's story forever.
This is not a provable fact. Rather, it is a faith-truth, a truth I receive with questions, doubts, and mystery firmly present. It’s an encountered, experienced truth that is written by Love on the lining of my heart. Don’t ask me for empirical proof or look for an intellectual argument from me. I won't try and convince you. I will only invite you to your own personal encounter with Love. For Love speaks to the heart, and the heart knows truth and meaning even beyond reason.
Salvation ongoing (present tense salvation) is Love's ongoing presence restoring me into... ME! This is the glory of love, the “so that” of Love: to see me become the lover I have always been, and then reflect this love into a world desperate for me to be ME, to be the lover-me. Love created me in Love's image, and Salvation has an ongoing purpose in my life, in that I am transformed by the presence of Love, as I experience all the glory of love from that personal encounter. This is the “so that,” the “to this end,” of salvation: Me experiencing Love's glory and then becoming Love's glory, then reflecting Love's glory.
Past-tense salvation makes me right positionally and relationally. It gives me the identity, security, and significance of being loved by Love. Present-tense salvation restores me through relational proximity into the intended “end” of salvation's purpose, the restored lover-me, reflector to the world of Love itself.
Application
I will stand in the completed work of my past-tense salvation all my life. It will never be challenged in my thinking by shame, condemnation, or unworthiness. I will accept and live in the verdict of “I am Love's beloved.” I am forgiven by Love, restored to Love's table, restored to Love's embrace, forever and always.
I will walk in the invitation of present-tense salvation to live in Love, from Love, for Love. I will allow the fullness of love to enable me to be the fullness of me. Past-tense salvation positions me in love; present-tense salvation propels me in Love, to love.
Is there a more beautiful story? Is this not the summary of the story that all humanity is desperate to make theirs personally? Thank you for restoring me to Love and restoring me to ME. Thank you, Love, for all the identity, security, and purpose this now shapes for my life. I am at last seen and loved as the real me. I am safe to be me, and I am significant as me. Thank you, Love. I love being loved, and I love being love. I love this story of Love's salvation that is mine.
The fresh afternoon air filled Peter’s lungs deeply before he exhaled in a sigh of contentment. The satisfaction of vindication. Oh how good it felt to finally have the Master approve of his position among the other brothers. Not that he’d ever questioned it, of course, but it was good to at least have everything clarified and out in the open now. For months they’d been quietly talking behind his back. He wasn’t worried—he’d just concluded that they needed to comfort each other in light of the obvious: he was clearly Rabbi’s favourite.
The writing was on the wall, after all. He was the only one among them who would willingly step out with courage—except maybe James and John, but they usually got rebuked for their stupidity, and rightly so. It’s not just courage that leaders need, you see, but wisdom, and when the moment came, it was not they but Simon son of Jonah who had proved his more mature perception.
You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.
Peter reflected on the moment. He had delivered the line well too, as he’d practiced.
Sure, maybe he had had his doubts—nothing compared to Thomas mind you—but he’d known that Jesus was the Messiah for a while now. With the healings, the new Torah, and the precise selection of twelve students, it was obvious that Jesus was starting a revolutionary movement styled off the stories of the forefathers. And to think that, for all those years, all the innumerable sons of Israel, all the great prophets and mighty kings of old, Jesus had chosen Peter to rule his kingdom on his behalf. I mean, only one of Jacob’s children can be Joseph, right? And a good David needs a better… or, a similar Jonathan. It just all seemed right.
“The rock … build his church on me,” Peter whispered softly to himself as Jesus and the other disciples walked on ahead. “The gates of Hades will never overpower …”. He shook his head in bewilderment at the prospect. “The keys to the kingdom of heaven will belong to me ...”. These words felt good.
“Peter!” Jesus’ call arrested him from the depths of his thoughts; by the tone of Jesus’ voice, it sounded like he’d called Peter’s name several times before he had noticed.
Allison's study of entropy and creation reveals a Paschal pattern in the cosmos that is beautiful and encouraging, and I believe it is relevant for what it means to nourish faith in postmodernity.
The Entropic God: Christian Theology Confronts the Second Law of Thermodynamics
When it was first introduced in the mid-1800s, the concept of entropy—which states that systems in nature move spontaneously from order to disorder, from lesser to greater randomness—triggered intense ideological debate in the West, testing the cosmologies of both theists and atheists alike. This paper examines three contrasting ways Christian theologians have confronted the second law of thermodynamics over the centuries: by questioning its relevance to Christianity outright, by identifying it with negative forces like sin and death, and (finally) by embracing it as vital to a new paradigm of faith—one that recasts disorder as divine possibility.
Mystical theology deals with the inner person, with his spiritual development and growth toward the ultimate goal of theosis. It cannot deal with the natural world. The natural world is its own mystery, but the spiritual development and transformation of the "inner person," must ultimately be dealt with and mystical theology, in the meaning of spiritual struggle and the chosen will to make this inner evolution take place, toward a transformation of the spiritual man, without ever making a sharp divide between the spiritual and the physical in mankind. Being religious in itself will not accomplish this. We see highly religious people doing incredibly wicked things and justifying them on the basis of their religion.
Orthodox Christian mystical theology deals precisely with that problem, and it deals with it in a personal, person-by-person, manner. At the same time, it calls upon Orthodox Christians as a community, nor its collections of communities, to strive toward that inner transformation. The inner transformation of communities is powered by the liturgical cycle, preeminently the Divine Liturgy, but matins, Vespers, and all the other liturgical services. First and foremost, it calls upon us to strive to acquire unselfish love and to move from there to Co-suffering love. We must be led away from the common and sometimes meaningless use of the word "love." Sometimes we use the word "love" as an excuse for hating people or declaring them outcasts and subhuman.
When we talk about the transformation of the inner human person, we are not talking about mystified moralism. Rather they struggle to become truly moral persons by nature. This does not mean becoming "as miserable as possible" as is often presented. This takes place in the spiritual realm but should be directly manifested in our outer relations with the humanity around us and the world in general.
Other forms of theology, our anthropology and understanding of the way culture and society actually work, and our understanding of the natural world must be on a different plane and cannot always be informed directly by our mystical theology. A theology of anthropology and of the natural world that does not take the principle of evolution into account is really not worth very much, but rather serves only to obfuscate reality. The evolution of the species is a fact which, in the words of the late Archbishop Vitaly (Ustinov) "can be denied, but not successfully."
Any cosmological or anthropological theology which denies evolution is simply false and likely ideological. A theology that does not recognise the creation narrative in the Book of Genesis as allegorical and revealing about the human nature but not the origins of the cosmos, cannot be taken seriously any longer. Perhaps 1500 years ago, it could be seen as historical, but now a presentation of it as factual and historical is simply mythological, and those who try to perpetuate it as literal are simply the ones who are mythologising it.
We need to approach our theology of the cosmos and our anthropology free of ideology – and religious doctrines can quite easily become ideology – and in the context of what is not known for certain through science, otherwise, we are doing the Faith itself a great disservice and doing a great disservice to the faithful.
Any cosmological or anthropological theology which denies evolution is simply false and likely ideological. A theology that does not recognise the creation narrative in the Book of Genesis as allegorical and revealing about the human nature but not its origins, cannot be taken seriously any longer. Perhaps 1500 years ago, it could be seen as historical, but now a presentation of it as factual and historical is simply mythological, and those who try to perpetuate it as literal are simply the ones who are mythologising it.
We need to approach our theology of the cosmos and our anthropology free of ideology – and religious doctrines can quite easily become ideology – and in the context of what is not known for certain through science, otherwise, we are doing the Faith itself a great disservice and doing a great disservice to the faithful.
You might be a Christian nationalist if you believe that one nation on earth has a special vocation to be a Christian nation as an example or sign for all other nations.
You might be a Christian nationalist if you believe that God founded your nation as a superior nation among the nations to uniquely enact his will in the earth.
You might be a Christian nationalist if you believe the founding documents of your nation reflect the teachings of Scripture accurately, that God was involved in their creation as in the creation of Scripture, that the writers of those documents were primarily interested in expressing Christian principles, and that, like Scripture, they are timeless. [With my regards to Jim Eisenbraun]
You might be a Christian nationalist if your church removes the national flag of the nation in which it is located, and that removal makes you anxious or angry, or if its services fail to offer a venue for displays of national patriotism, and that absence disturbs or alarms you.
You might be a Christian nationalist if you have a low tolerance for an honest assessment of your country’s national sins, or when pastors do the difficult, necessary work of identifying those sins (for sin is personal, familial, and tribal) you refuse their humble discernments.
You might be a Christian nationalist if you’ve never questioned your nation’s offensive or defensive military operations or if you are tempted to trust in your nation’s temporal powers rather than God for salvation from enemies.
You might be a Christian nationalist if you believe that God cares about the survival of your nation’s particular political order or “way of life” or economic status rather than the persons and living things within its borders, its language and culture, its natural treasures.
You might be a Christian nationalist if the prospect of your nation’s end unmoors your trust in providence.
You might be a Christian nationalist if the orienting realities of your life or your family’s life are not the apostles’ teaching, a table of bread and wine, fellowship with the poor, and the prayers but your partisan loyalties, and the so-called thought leaders of that loyalty.
You might be a Christian nationalist if you do not recognize that the gospel is pan-national, encompassing all peoples everywhere, all cultures, all languages, where all armaments become gardening tools, where the peace won by the weakness of the human God on the cross reigns.
One concerned partner calls the other and says, “Dear, be careful driving home. I just heard there’s a maniac who’s been spotted going full speed the wrong way up the freeway!”
“I can’t talk right now! There isn’t just one maniac going the wrong way,” he responds in between exclamations of amazement “there are hundreds of them!”
The punchline, of course, is that the partner driving home cannot imagine he’s the maniac going the wrong way.
With that in mind, I plan to say three things in this post:
Americanized-Christianity might be in a similar boat (car). Despite concerned phone calls, it has little imagination to entertain the possibility that it is the one going the wrong way.
Rene Girard provides fundamental insight into the ways our desires are formed through relationship and the way we are formed through desire.
Thor: Love and Thunder, for all its quirkiness, might be calling out Americanized-Christianity while leveraging Girardian insight to reveal new pathways for all of us.
I should define what I mean by the hyphenated behemoth of a phrase, American-Christianity. I’m using it to signify something ideological rather than something religious. Ideology is that set of beliefs we turn, and return to, to help us cope when something ruptures our expectations. (Not to say that coping is wrong. Sometimes, that’s about all we can do, so if you’re comfortable with the way your outlook helps you cope, then more power to you. But, if you’re looking for something more robust, flexible, and applicable to your current life then it’s possible that you are mired in ideology. If the shoe fits, wear it, if not, no problem.)
I am an electrician by trade, but I have been on the estimating and project management side of contracting for about 24 years, so I have not had to strap on a tool belt for quite some time.
Just this past weekend I purposely scheduled myself to be on-site for a job. We were working with a long-time customer in their main substation, which provides power to the massive facility. It took a couple of long days and about four hours on the final day. On one of those days, we worked in the pouring rain for about five hours as a storm passed through the area. It took a crew of five electricians, a crane operator, and his men to get the job done. The facility was re-energized without any problems, and everyone went home in good spirits, which is one of the reasons I am sharing this part of my life. I was reminded and profoundly impacted by something that I have been learning over the past decade or so: to see with different eyes.
I was reminded of the value, worth, and dignity of working with your hands--hammering, shoveling, mixing concrete, pulling, lifting, and putting things together. (It should not be taken for granted and lost in the grand scheme of things that during the early years of Jesus' life, he too worked with his hands.)
At the end of a long day, your body hurts, and you're exhausted, you climb into a work van, and drive yourself home for the next sixty minutes or so. Then you get up very early the next morning and do it all over again. The value and dignity of your work reveals itself when the job is done and you stand back for a moment, looking at what you and your co-workers were able to accomplish. There is something about the demands of physical labor, striving alongside others, that provides a tangible sense of pride (not the self-absorbed kind), fulfillment, and a natural by-product that cannot be ignored: true human connection, friendship, and comradery. It is all a part of the beautiful "imago dei" [image of God] in every person.
I saw it with my own eyes those three days that we were together, and this is what I cannot push aside or neglect because of fear of what others may think or believe. I am a 64-year-old man now, and though my physical eyes are not as sharp as a young man's, my "spiritual eyes" are still learning to focus on revelation and mystery, and what it means to live in this world that is broken, but also good and profoundly beautiful in nature and humankind.
During those three days with my co-workers, the f-bomb was dropped non-stop, gossip was shared, sarcasm was laid on heavy, tempers flared a bit, and even a brief conversation about going to strip clubs. I did not, for a moment, regret being with those men. On the contrary, I was honored to be a part of their work and conversations throughout our time together. There was laughter, and sharing of knowledge and experience to get the job done. The common thread that kept everyone focused was our purpose: what to do and how to do it to get the facility back online as soon as possible.
On Friday night it was dark, and we were working by the light of battery-powered LEDs. I stood there for a moment in the middle of that quiet power station and realized that this was a holy experience. I was grateful for my co-workers and I would not miss the opportunity to tell them so. I began to tell them how thankful I was for each of them, and as my words flowed, tears flowed too. I was overcome by the moment as I expressed my love and appreciation for men I was proud to be with, and I was overcome by the reality of something far more beautiful and mysterious. Jesus is thankful for these men and loves them more than we can ever imagine. He is inside of those men, as he is in the entire human race. It is the real meaning of "Immanuel," God with us. To deny this is to deny the "imago dei." The image of God is the image of Christ. To deny this is to deny scriptures like Colossians 1 & Ephesians 4:5. The sting of consequence arises when we all walk away from the light of Christ that dwells within us (John 1:1-9), but in the end, co-suffering love will not be defeated.
It's time for all of us to reconsider with fresh eyes, and not be afraid of what we may find or encounter about the gospel or "good news." What does a person mean when they use terms such as "total depravity" or "original sin"? Some theological and denominational structures would regard my co-workers as having "no good thing within them." What if, on that Friday night described above, I told those men that they were all condemned sinners, totally depraved, and that they should stop with their foul-mouthed language, and turn to Jesus?
The question, for me, is this: What demonstrates true, unconditional grace and mercy. What is the proper timing to walk with another human being down the journey of life to the invitation of the light and love of Jesus? I choose to begin with perfect love, grace, mercy, and goodness. I choose to find common ground and a universal bond we all share.
WE ALL NEED YOU JESUS. Please lead us to the way, the truth, and the life. You are the light and life of every single human being Jesus, and you will not forsake your creation!!!