render

They brought him a coin.

And Jesus said to them:
"Whose likeness and inscription is this?"

They said, "Caesar's."

Then he said to them:
"Render therefore to Caesar
the things that are Caesar's,

and to God
the things that are God's."

can't wait

lest I forget

I think I'm going to start a personal Veterans' Day tradition. Technically I'm a veteran, though I don't deserve any honor for it. It would be good to remind myself of that, every year on this holiday, by rereading the story of how I left the Navy:

I was walking alone along the road outside a monastery in England, thinking about where I was. AWOL in a foreign country. I'd gone on a two-week leave several months ago, but instead of driving back and reporting for duty on the aircraft carrier I had boarded a plane. It felt like the only thing I could do. And I didn't think I deserved to be punished for it, so I'd fled.

These weeks of walking the Scottish moors and visiting monasteries to rest and pray had soothed some of the turmoil inside me. But still I didn't know where I was going. The initial gut-wrenching fear had eventually settled into the thrill of a new adventure, but it was now threatening to sink into dread. What would happen if I stopped running? Was my life ruined? Turned inward, I didn't notice the trees around me or the ancient stonework of the monastery. Was this all a terrible mistake?

That was when I first felt it. Deep inside, down in a dark part of myself where I never looked, it felt like something was moving. Like the stirring of a hibernating animal, something large. The slow uncoiling of a hidden predator. I couldn't see anything clearly, but it felt real enough to inspire awe at the power of the thing. It was enough to frighten me, yet the deep sensation was not fear. I remember thinking: Not yet. But it was coming. And it excited me.

continued...

the separation of church and state

Been a bit busy with the boy lately, but I have had some new thoughts on the separation of church and state. It never held much interest for me before. Maybe because the usual debates on the topic have to do with personal freedoms or keeping religion out of government. The Christians that have addressed the separation of church and state (at least those that do so most loudly) usually denounce the concept, saying it excludes their most important convictions and practices from the public sphere. And those who vigorously support the separation, usually see it as protecting them from religious oppression.

But it seems to me that the church should be kept distinctly separate from the state (or whatever political power exists locally) so the church can speak relevantly in the public sphere. The church should stay out of power so the church can speak prophetically to power. Christians should be careful to preserve this separation so the church can be the church, in continual tension with the world.

If the church becomes one with "the current administration," if the church is endorsed by those in power, that doesn't mean God's people have won. As Jacques Ellul put it so well:

...if we do not believe that society is good and right, their approval proves nothing except that the [church's] action is in conformity with the world. It does not mean that the world has changed; quite the contrary. Each time the people of God becomes effective according to the world's criteria, this only implies that society has absorbed our action and is using it for its own ends and for its own profit. ...The efficacy we think we have is simply a power in the world's service, for the perfecting of its own being, for its better organization....

If the church becomes one with the current administration, then it's simply not the church any more. It's not the body of Christ in the world any more. It's not challenging the world like Jesus did (and does), it's justifying it, legitimizing it, using religious language (even twisting Jesus' own words) to bless it.

The church needs to stand apart like Jesus did, not to isolate itself from others, but to show there's a real, blessed alternative. To speak to others from outside the city gates, calling them out also.

Applying this more personally and practically, I've noticed that one of the places the separation of church and state gets dissolved is in Christian intentional communities. Especially those that share property and businesses communally among their members ("common purse" communities). Often the government of the community and the church are essentially one there. The political and economic power of the community is in the hands of the church, since the members are the same and the leaders are often the same also. No separation, so no independent prophetic voice from the church. Individuals within the community may at times speak prophetically. But the vote of the church is the same as the vote of the communal political body, so the same majority speaks for both. Perhaps the church there can claim to speak prophetically to "the powers that be" outside the community, but it can't speak prophetically to the powers that be within the community. Because the church there and the powers are one. And thus even when it speaks as prophet to those outside, it speaks hypocritically.

I've gradually, over a number of years, moved outside the church of "the current administration" here. Now that seems like the best place to stay. While continuing to find ways to work with, and cultivate, the church where it exists elsewhere, set apart.

for ian

the boy is here

Ian George made an exciting appearance this morning. Heather labored all night, but she and Ian are fine and sleeping now. I'm still running on adrenalin, I think. And so proud of Heather, and grateful.

Ian is the Scottish form of John, which means "God is gracious."

anna's prayer

A blessing for Ian, given by our friend's young daughter (our friend is having another daughter any day now). I really like it.

reciprocity

I've been a bit caught up in plans and arrangements for the birth (which could be any day now). But I've had some thoughts recently about what is sometimes called "reciprocity."

It's found in pretty much every culture, though emphasized more strongly in some. Basically, the exchanging of "favors," and the obligations that go along with that. Not usually in direct bartering ("I'll do this for you, if you will do that for me"), though sometimes that's the case. But just that doing something for someone else builds up a kind of unspoken "capital," something they owe you. We feel that favors ought to be returned. This may be between individuals, but it can also be a kind of social capital, a contribution to the group that seems to give us a stake in the community, or perhaps honor or even authority. There's been significant research and theorizing about this kind of reciprocity in social interactions.

Maybe my earliest experiences of the pressures of reciprocity have to do with Christmas gift giving (which I've written about before). But I've also noticed it in Christian communities where there's lots of sharing. You wouldn't think of paying each other for services, but it seems there is still a feeling that you owe (either an individual or the group), and I think that does motivate a significant portion of the sharing. It's hard to nail down, since it's almost never explicit, just something I've felt. But I've heard others describe the pressure as well. And seen how they've acted, which seems to indicate the same inner obligation they feel to reciprocate.

I suspect it's a natural social construct, nurtured to avoid the abuses that happen when some members of a group receive but do not give back. It seems pretty obviously fair, as well. But it doesn't feel like a very good motivation for helping others. Not what Jesus taught us about loving others, certainly. "Give to those who have given to you" doesn't really sound like something Jesus would teach.

Mostly I don't like feeling the pressure to do something just because I supposedly "owe a favor." And I don't like giving with string attached. I'd like to do something for someone else simply because it's a good thing, because I'm inspired to participate, because love motivates me. It seems to me that the pressures of reciprocity confuse and get in the way of that free motivation of love.

So I think I'll try not to encourage the reciprocity idea in my child. I suppose it can't be completely avoided, as it seems to be a part of every social culture. But I don't have to teach it myself (and I may be able to help expose it). I'd like to teach love and gift instead, like Jesus did. And not relying on favors that others supposedly owe us, but relying on God's love to inspire others to help us in our need—and doing the kind of good work that inspires others to want to help.

personally speaking

I was recently reading some essays by a person who takes a more universalist view of God and the spiritual life, accepting all the major religions as descriptions of the same truth. And I can certainly appreciate the parallels that are obviously there. They do seem to reinforce the truth of many of the important teachings of Jesus (and others).

It seems, though, that the personal nature of God seems to get lost with the universalist approach. Like with other universally accepted truths, such as the physical sciences, the focus tends to be on consistent laws and forces that everyone can observe or experience. So there's lots of discussions on ethics or morality or helpful religious practices. And also lots of references to God as a force, or life, or as Reality, Truth, etc. But God as Person doesn't easily fit with the "all religions are one" belief, and it's usually set aside.

Maybe it doesn't make much difference to our ethics or actions whether or not God is personal. But it would seem to make a difference to how we think God feels about us, and how we feel about God. We are personal. And we experience love in a personal way, through parents and friends and spouses. We are loved by persons and we love as persons. We can experience and believe in the force of gravity, but we are not loved by gravity. So it seems pretty important that God is personal if we are to know the love of God, and love God. And isn't that the main thing, at least according to Jesus? Not to believe in God, or fear God, or obey God, but to love God with all your heart.

Perhaps the biggest difficulty in accepting a personal God is dealing with the possibility that our suffering (and others') may be connected somehow to a personal will, rather than impersonal laws and chance. A bitter struggle indeed.

But as I contemplate right now the relationship of a child to his parents, and anticipate looking on my son with love, I cannot help seeing that as a powerful sign for us. An image so fundamental—and universal—in human experience that I recognize the revelation of God in it. Not many religions speak of God as our Father, but Jesus did. And he taught and showed us that we are loved, and that the God of the universe desires to be loved by us.