flying.farther

Yesterday I finished the biography of Oscar Romero, Romero: A Life by James R. Brockman. I really liked it. I also really, really like what Romero did, and it is encouraging to hear of the church asserting itself. If only I could be half the devoted follower and thinker that he was. I do not mean to glorify death or particular people, but there is something beautiful when the priests of El Salvador did not give up their work, even as some were shot, tortured and disappeared. Devoted to the church and married to the divine is a beautiful thing. Just merely from reading the book, I was ecstatic when he was quoted (especially his homilies) and I literally mourned his death. I am amazed at the pain, joy and devotion involved in his life - and it fed me, even though I did not know I needed it.

What also struck me was the genre of the book. It is more than a biography, it is a hagiographic work in the best sense of the term. Of course Brockman wrote about some of Romero’s personal failings or quirks, but the genre of the book is that of a hero story. It even indicates this on the cover, describing the book as: “The Essential Biography of a Modern Martyr and Christian Hero.” Personally, this work as hagiography does not disqualify it, instead, recognizing the genre should change how we read it and therefore what we are to get out of it - an experience of Christ in a person and the church. One must keep in mind that this text is intended to uplift and encourage, by telling a faithful story of a faithful Christian. And on this account, it did both beautifully.

I’m not sure that all will find this book fascinating, but I did. If you really want to know Romero’s story, this is the book to read. If you want to know why Romero did what he did and said what he said, this is the book to read. If you want interviews by the junta or the bishops that opposed him, this is not the book to read. This book tells the story of an archbishop who was assassinated because he spoke with and for the poor, and it tells it from his perspective.

Response to Just War Against Terror: The Burden of American Power in a Violent World

Jean Bethke Elshtain, in Just War Against Terror: The Burden of American Power in a Violent World, writes for the justification of a just war against terror as not only necessary, but also that the war on terror is the responsibility of the only great super power left and the country upon which the stability of the international community rests on – America. She argues that the current order, and all its advances, is at stake, but the prosecution of the war is hamstrung by the fad of opposition in academia and a pulpit that tends toward “self-flagellation” (117). She cites Tillich and Niebuhr to justify a violent response to “Islamic fundamentalism.” In her mind, it is the duty of the state to maintain the citizen’s security (and presumably their wealth) and it is the state that should react violently with those whom attack us.

There is a great deal that I disagree with within this book and its overall position. The following are some of my criticisms and where some of the more foundational disagreements between Elshtain and I occur.

Semi-whiggish historiography (pg. 28)
Elshtain’s construction of history is uncomfortably close to what is called in the historical field whiggery, whiggishness, or whiggish historiography. Certainly Elshtain’s history is not a full blown whiggery, after all her subject is America and not England, but the over all perspective and methodology is strikingly similar – an elitist view of the past with a somewhat triumphal idea of the present and connecting the two events is a distinct impression of destiny and inevitability. In most of Elshtain’s historical narratives one can find a whiff of whiggery, but in her understanding of the collapse of American slavery, whiggery seems explicit: “Lincoln could not have made such a claim if he had lacked the principles from which to challenge the abhorrent practice he condemned. Slavery was not a founding American principle. It was a repulsive practice that clashed with our principles and was therefore doomed” (28).

The Definition of Terror and its Application (pg. 18, 19, 152)
Elshtain seems to define terrorism rather objectively as “violence that targets noncombatants, is random and unpredictable, and aims to sow overwhelming fear in a population” (152). By and large, this definition of terrorism seems objective and that it could potentially cut both ways. However, Elshtain never allows for the term “terrorism” to be applied to American force; America as terrorist is never given a thought. She never seems to move from her perspective to see business end of American force, which leads to the next two points.

Japanese Militarism and Democratic American Force (pg. 54)
Elshtain seems to have a false understanding about democracy and militaristic force. She characterizes imperial Japan as militaristic (and I think rightly so, or at least in the 1930s and 40s), but credits the passivity of Japan to democratic government established post WW II. Here again Elshtain commits another historiographic blunder of equating the reduction of arms and perceived peaceful trade with governmental change. Certainly such a change concerning militarism can exist through governmental change, however, to make it appear that it was the governmental change, and not the depletion of resources and the utter devastation inflicted upon Japan by the Americans that flattened not only the economy, but also the Japanese spirit, is simply wrong – very wrong. Not only does she exclude the other more vital factors, but she again draws connections of inevitability that no historian would be comfortable with if judged by historical peers.

Simply put, Elshtain’s assumption that democracy demilitarizes a population is flat wrong. Her anecdotal proof is easily rejected and exposes her bias that America could not be militaristic. Perhaps she has not looked at the government’s budget, where over half is spent on the military?

American Weapons Cannot be Just (pg. 65, 67)
Just war theory is entirely dependent on the fact that we can discriminate between civilian and foe. However, truth be told, we cannot not actually discriminate through our technological, falsely advertised weapons. The weapons that the government buys from defense contractors come in over budget, late and with normally far less abilities than promised. Couple the false advertisement of what our actual capabilities are with our extreme reliance on technology and the conception of fighting a war from miles away with drones, our abilities to discern the right target become suspect at best. Just war theory was developed with the idea of conventional battles in mind and fought with arrows and swords – not with using video feeds to determine a suspect target and with a push of a button an entire building is flattened with whomever is inside, be it a hidden arms factory or a school.

A Poor Understanding of Kingdom Theology (pg. 30, 47, 99)
Elshtain continually points out that just war is a highly complex idea, as is the circumstances to which we are reacting, however, she seems to act as if opposing arguments and their underlying theological basis are simplistic, or at least her depiction of the opposing arguments are simplistic. She quite simply has a poor understanding of the complexities in Kingdom theology. She asserts that the Kingdom is entirely and solely eschatological and the ethic that Jesus preached is for the eschaton. She never once recognizes that Kingdom theology, by every current and respected theologian that I have heard, is a carefully nuanced theology to reflect the complexity that the Kingdom is both here and not here.

A Poor sense of Justice and Peace (pg. 23, 55, 56, 63, 100, 130)
As Elshtain has a simplistic idea of Kingdom theology, she likewise generally has a simplistic sense of justice and peace. She does, to her credit, mention varying types of justice, however, she lacks extending this complexity to an understanding of peace. Peace must include justice, otherwise there cannot be peace. Justice, similarly, cannot be sought without peace, but she does not mention the interconnectivity of peace and justice, in fact she at times sees them as antagonistic. She sees peace at times in opposition to justice and as such simplistically characterizes pacifism against justice. Without nuancing peace and therefore simplistically characterizing pacifism as passive, instead of what it is as nonviolent action, does injustice to a position that emphatically disagrees with her.

A Poor understanding of Community and Social Space (pg. 30)
Elshtain also has a poor understanding of community and social space. She claims that the “Christian community is not territorial, that is, it is not tied to a specific place and space” (30). This is emphatically not true. Christianity forms a political, social body and that body is not only tied to space and time, but also to the community in which it lives. Christian communities cannot simply pick up and leave – that is instead the American way of life. Whenever a community within another community simply leaves, relationships are broken for the Christian life is not an individualistic, inner spiritual life, but instead the character of the Christian life is an organic, social body that helps the community in which it lives. Relationships are established and thus Christianity is inherently territorial.

Myth of the Nation-State as Savior (pg. 46, 161)
I outright reject Elshtain’s assumption that the Nation-State is the savior that supplies our safety. This is an Enlightenment narrative that justifies the existence of the Nation-State and the use of force. Certainly life would be hectic and different than as it is now, but life and civil society existed long before Hobbe’s social contract and to say that life and civil society would cease to exist if not for the state is simply wrong. For more on a critique of this, see Theopolitical Imagination by William Cavanaugh.

A Couple Last Words
The Niebuhr and Tillich arguments are worn out, that is to say that she is arguing a moot point because theology has accepted the Niebuhrian argument for a fallen humanity. Her argument against the “humanists” is precisely that, an argument against humanists who hold to an anthropology of decades ago, that or she mischaracterizes the pacifists, which she has admittedly done in the book.

The arguments for bringing Saddam to justice would work far better for bringing Pinochet to justice, but instead we supplied Pinochet. While Saddam clearly did some evil acts, the justification for intervention in one place and ignoring others (Chile, Darfur, etc.), merely on the basis of murder, genocide and human rights violations, seems to discredit much of the argument for invading Iraq.

Lastly, how come the neighbor for Elshtain is always only the victim? Justice and peace is about righting relationships – rehabilitating the oppressor and bringing the oppressed out of their hurting circumstances – not about simply killing off the victimizer until there is no one left or they are punitively smashed into submission.

In Review, The War on Terrorism and the Terror of God

The book sustains a well-made argument for nearly 300 pages, ranging from socio-political and historical analysis,1 scriptural interpretation,2 theological conclusions3 and practically proposed solutions.4 While Myths America Lives By was simply written and seemingly half-positive of the American Myths, The War on Terrorism and the Terror of God rips away the entirety of the innocence façade. Through the use of diverse voices Griffith throws no soft punches and deconstructs any sense of righteous innocence and justified anger. For example:

Meanwhile, the shelling of Muslim neighborhoods by the New Jersey did not differentiate between soldiers and civilians. While there were doubtless members of militia groups residing in these neighborhoods, the bombs could not set them apart from the children or the grandparents or the other women and men who were clearly noncombatants. If the defining feature of terrorism is the civilian identity of those who are targeted, then the “terrorists” in Beirut were not those who bombed military barracks but those who lobbed car-sized bombs into city neighborhoods.5

I do not mean to overload on quotes, but reading through this book was like a solid meal with great quotes, particularly in comparison to Hughes’ appetizer book. This is a work of solid scholarship in my mind and speaks the well-supported conclusions without fear:

When we follow the trail and trace the violence back, we do not find God. We find a mad confluence of godlets. We find principalities and power, imperial nation states and barely organized guerilla fronts, all self-exalted, all petty, and all appealing to as much inhumanity as humans can muster. It is called Liberation and martyrdom. it is called defense and justice. Call it what you will. It is Terrorism.6

Any book that says the following would put itself in good stead with me, “In nations in which the majority of believers are Christian, the church must bear the responsibility for the ease with which the name of God has been co-opted into the service of carnage.”7 And so The War on Terrorism and the Terror of God was simply one of my favorite reads of the summer: well argued, excellent conclusions, good quotes and best of all, very helpful for my own purposes.

For My Research, The War on Terrorism and the Terror of God

The first new concept of importance that greeted me was quite surprising. According to Griffith there is a “lack of definitional agreement [on what a terrorist and terrorism is] among terrorism experts.”8 For a brief second I was surprised and then it occurred to me that terrorist or terrorism is a label, it is propoganda, and so the common use of the term is perspective based. Using the term “terrorist” is name-calling rather than saying a terrorist is someone who inflicts terror as a weapon. And with this use in mind, then the definition by Edmund Burke of a terrorist, “those who are lacking sufficient awe for Father State,” fits perfectly.9

Using “terrorist” as a negative label, instead of neutral and applicable to all, is what Griffith calls demonizing. Demonizing is virtually mandatory for visiting violence on a perceived enemy; the enemy must look bad to justify war, otherwise there is generally no need for violence. Demonizing also creates problems for solving conflict with anything other than violence. In the current political climate, talking to a demon legitimizes the demon and seems to make those talking to the demon as weak “and if the demons will not change their ways (and how could demons be anything other than demonic?), then warfare is foreordained as the only possible form of engagement.”10 With rational dialogue between opposing forces seen as soft and ineffectual, then in the eyes of the world, diplomatic conversation a weak option at best. This is scary. Debate over military intervention is no longer confined to coercive force as necessary with those who just cannot be reasoned with; instead military intervention is the first and last option because dialogue cannot happen.

Demonizing continues to make the situation worse on a life style scale. Dealing with demons, or the fear of the demonic striking at anytime, anywhere, “one can never be too prepared or too strong. This also means that one should never allow oneself to feel secure.”11 The fear of a Russian nuclear attack during America in the 1950s comes to mind, as does this “War on Terror.” The fear of the demonic and perceived the need for military buildup is nothing new and in the eyes of the frightened, this system is strangely comforting: “the nation is innocent and glorious, there is a great and unprovoked evil that desires to do the nation harm, but worry not, our technological advances in military will save us all. The nation will protect you, your money and give you peace.”

This narrative provided by the one’s own nation-state is terribly deceptive, but the theologian to best continue the argument is with William Cavanaugh later. Still, Griffith does touch briefly on the deceptive story that the nation-state tells. Griffith recognizes the illusionary salvific nature of the tale: “it seeks to tell a story of freedom spread through self-sacrifice, not victories won through the spread of terror. To sustain the myth, Americans need to rewrite history just as surely as did Stalin to sustain his own version of communist orthodoxy.”12 The implications of such a story does not stop with rewriting history, but it is also liturgically/eschatologically competitive and Griffith touches on this as well when he notes the Reagan idea of a bright dawn occurring in America during the 80s.13

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1. “Woven into the very fabric of U.S. origins, terrorism emerged in two forms: (a) in the violent confrontations between cultures on the frontier, and (b) in violent confrontations between the growing consciousness of rural interest and the power elites of the cities.” Griffith, 145.

2. “These are the two sides of the prophetic mission: to announce judgment on the present order and to weep at the consequences the judgment portends. This biblical pattern is so pronounced that it seems fair to suggest that if either side of the mission is lacking, then the word that is being offered is not prophetic.” Griffith, 119.

3. “Violence is a form of proselytism which preaches that there is no God. The preachments of violence are more effective than televangelists, more zealous in winning converts than those who sell religion door to door.” Griffith, 68.

4. “In order to witness to the defeat of terror, churches and other faith communities must also be zones that are free from terror. Rather than peddling fears and threats of damnation, the church is called to witness to the one and only sufficient antidote to terror - the resurrection of Jesus.” Griffith, 251. Also see 268-270.

5. Griffith, 5.

6. Griffith, 6.

7. Griffith, xii.

8. Griffith, 7.

9. Griffith, 12.

10. Griffith, 86.

11. Griffith, 84.

12. Griffith, 38.

13. Griffith, 143.

In Review, Myths America Lives By

Myths America Lives By is written very carefully and very lucidly. In fact, the writing was so simple that it almost felt like cheating to read this book for graduate level credit. Nevertheless, the book will prove incredibly helpful as a list and when it provides background information.

In fact, the book can be rather careful when it speaks of history; I only encounter the important distinction between Constantine (legalized Christianity) and Theodosius (made Christian the Empire’s religion) in careful historical scholarship. However, other aspects of history related by Hughes are less than helpful and generally revolves around what seems to be an acceptance of historical assumptions by Enlightenment figures.

Certainly Hughes can expertly slip into the voice he is speaking for, but at times his language indicates that he has not always critically reviewed certain views of history, or at least does not make these assumptions visible to the reader. The most blaring problem is his lack questioning the Enlightenment’s revisionist history which was used as a justification for an Enlightenment “intervention” in world events and subsequently the assumption about religious wars during the European’s early modern period, which is the same historical reading as Hughes.1

However, all is not lost. I was entirely unaware of Tyndale’s influence on the myth of a chosen nation and I am sure the new information will prove useful.2 Still, the carefulness to include Tyndale as source perplexes me all the more – Hughes was careful in quite a few areas, but did not interrogate Edward Lord Herbert’s historical assumptions/justifications.

While there are some historical inconsistencies, the book does an excellent job describing the myths. But better than that, the collection of myths are all in one book and so the focus of the book is in the most helpful place, an exclusive focus on the myths and how the myths interact. Still, the greatest strength of the book is the inclusion of the African American voice that puts the white dream into stark relief with reality.

I do have one last objection, I disagree with Hughes on the level at which some of the myths can be accepted. Perhaps I am coming from a different vantage point, with explicit Christian categories and a hermeneutic of suspicion when reading the stories that nation-states tell. I simply reject the myths of a Chosen Nation and Christian Nation (which in my mind become virtually one). The myths of Nature’s Nation and the Millennial Nation seem to replace the Christian idea of eschatology and hope. American Capitalism as myth just feeds greed, which Hughes seems to also convey. And lastly, I do agree with Hughes that the myth of Innocent Nation is just delusional.

For My Research, Myths America Lives By

Remembering rightly, once it breaks past the 9/11 barrier, ought to extend to critically looking our other myths that function as the bedrock for the 9/11 story. This is where Myths America Lives By plays its part. Once our fake innocence is stripped away and the delusion gone, the more foundational myths are accessible for critique and deconstruction. More importantly, the wide-ranging affects to our psyche that the fundamental myths have created can be examined as well; the subtle and seemingly unnoticeable changes to theology by the nation-state’s myths can finally be made visible.

Right remembering is honest memory, or at least as honest as one can be (which includes accepting and integrating the memories and voices of others). Thus, the inclusion of the African American voice in this book is invaluable. The myths go pop in the face of reality and on that basis this book achieves a terrific goal – the death of innocence.

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1. Hughes, 47, 48, 52. For a critical analysis of the Enlightenment’s historical justifications, see William Cavanaugh’s work Theopolitical Imagination.

2. Hughes, 21.

In Review, The End of Memory: Remembering Rightly in a Violent World

Admittedly this is my first Miroslav Volf book. I’ve put off Exclusion and Embrace for sometime, but I find myself being drawn towards it as pluralism and Christian community boundaries come into conversation within my head. As for the Volf’s The End of Memory, I like it, but not for all the reasons Volf wrote for. I can hear the voices of some fellow Union students yelling at how this book can be misused by the oppressor to avoid the violent acts of oppression and tell the violated to just forgive. I wonder most how much of Volf’s contextual experience can transfer to social ethics.

Overall, as a work on its own, I think it can be fruitful, but only in very specific, contextualized circumstances, as Volf makes clear. Nevertheless, I found some other interesting conclusions, primarily about remembering rightly in the first half, that will have vast ramifications. The important sections for me were: the first half, the last two chapters and the postscript.1 However, when reading this book, one really should finish it, since Volf lays out a full argument concerning forgiveness. It was also a very readable book and could go quick in most places I think.

Above all, the book is very personal and ultimately that is one of the best points about the book, specifically as the book does not claim to work towards a social ethic of forgiveness, but claims to speak only about particular relationships. The End of Memory is worth a read by people looking to work on personal relationships.

For My Research, The End of Memory: Remembering Rightly in a Violent World

For my purposes I think his book will work well for a few specific points. I am writing my thesis on torture centered around why the American church so easily accepts the violence and where we can work on our theology to fix the holes that lets the acceptance of torture stand. To this end, insomuch that Volf engages with Johann Metz (which is a rather small section, sadly) and the idea of remembering rightly, I think there is a richness that I can explore for my own purposes and has certainly moved my thoughts into critically examining our idea of the past. What follows are thoughts that have been generated by reading The End of Memory.

Remembering rightly as criticism can be, and should be, focused on our current ideas of memory – do we in fact remember rightly? What memories do we have, particularly in relation to torture and ourselves? Critically examining our sense of remembering means we begin at what we perceive to be the beginning, September 11. However, we are ignorant of or in arrogant agreement with pre-9/11 American action because of false myth – we simply do not remember, or rightly remember, American action pre-9/11. Thus, 9/11 as a “surprise” instilled and continues to instill fear and instability. Now, with the false myth of surprise, we react and remember through a lens of national safety and the need for preparation – militarization and pre-emptive violence; we do not remember rightly, nor care to solve the problems of inequality or violence, instead we remain blind to our actions – past, present and the consequences for the future.

Remembering rightly ought to heal and set relationships aright, otherwise through merely remembering, we begin falling into a cycle of sadism or masochism under the guise of geopolitical and personal safety. Memory translates into action, but how and what we choose to remember maintains a clear relationship to what we do.2 Therefore, anything that is leading people into violence and unhealthy relationships must be examined and re-examined, for it is quite possible memories are not being considered rightly. This becomes the basis for critically examining 9/11 and eventually the other myths that create America.

We ought to reconsider and look at 9/11 through entirely different lenses – not with concerns for national safety but with salvation and redemption in mind, for those are the Christian categories and it is those categories that govern our politics, or at least ought to. Simply put, we must look for reconciliation for our perceived innocence is false and our justified anger is poisonous (as will be noted later).

Forgetting cannot happen without reconciliation.3 And perhaps “not bringing to mind,” in Volf’s idea of forgetting, may be beyond humanities’ reach on this side of the judgment day, however, it is telling when we refuse to forget. We do not want to “forget” for we do not want to reconcile; we want to punitively damage through our self-perceived innocent hurt and justified anger and so we say we will never forget the pain to drive us on in our quest for revenge.

Lastly, Volf considers Johann Baptist Metz, but for not very long.4 Volf critiques Metz for not including the redemption of oppressors. Well, to be more exact, Volf uses a gap in Metz to leap into Volf’s own understanding of the passion. I say gap because the context and direction from which Metz worked in had little to do with the oppressor, but more about theodicy. Nevertheless, Volf is right, that when one considers liberation, there are two groups of people in need of salvation, the oppressor and oppressed and thus, Volf’s writing on the memory of the passion and memory of wrongs will prove helpful.

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1.In fact, it seemed to me that the chapter “Defenders of Forgetting” on Kierkegaard, Nietzsche and Freud seemed out of place – as if a footnote took on a life of its own, growing beyond the nuances of a theological footnote, and demanded space so as to pre-empt any criticism using the three thinkers. I think this chapter would have done well to work more as a postscript or appendix and then move the current postscript into the meat of the work where it really should be. This is a work on specific forgiveness and the testament to working out one’s own attempt to forgive would have done better directly within the work.

2. Volf, 67-71.

3. Volf, 181.

4. Volf, 113-117.