Romero on the Church

This is the theme of my letter: the church is the Body of Christ in history. By this expression we understand that Christ has wished to himself the life of the church through the ages. The church’s foundation is not to be thought of in a legal or juridical sense, as if Christ gathered some persons together, entrusted them with a teaching, gave them a kind of constitution, but then himself remained apart from them. It is not like that. The church’s origin is something much more profound. Christ founded the church so that he himself could go on being present in the history of humanity precisely through the group of Christians who make up his church. The church is the flesh in which Christ makes present down the ages his own life and his personal mission.

Voice of the Voiceless: The Four Pastoral Letters and Other Statements, 69-70

Metz on the Church

Religion is tolerated because it absorbs painful disillusionments in society, neutralizes obscure anxieties, and silences dangerous memories and unmanageable hopes within social life. In short, it is tolerated because it brings a more or less welcome stabilization to complex societies. However, if this functionalization of religion and of the church were to be perfectly achieved it would be the death of them. The church will be able to ward off this danger in the long run only if it lives as a religious communio in which everyone has become subjects, that is, in which an identity has been developed that does not originate simply from above but from out of people’s religious experiences themselves.

Johann Metz, Faith in History and Society: Toward a Practical Fundamental Theology, 142.

Justice, Peace, and Reconciliation

I’m drawing to the end of my church and state paper, still tentatively titled “Imagination and Exploration in Church and State Relations: Rowan Williams, Sharia, Social Space, Christianity, and America.” Of course I’ve got a few books out and in lieu of having twitter, I’ll use this blog: “David is surrounded by his Metz books. His heart feels strangely warmed.”

I’ve also got an excerpt here from near the end, where I’m juxtaposing State and Christian ideas of justice and peace. I’m still editing it, but this is a blog, so I don’t think it all has to be perfect. That is also the reason why I haven’t put in footnotes from the actual work. As far as content, its also a bit of a playful “screw you” to those who understand reconciliation in terms of regression. I’m looking at you Milbank and Bridges.

While reconciliation is not the operative lens for the state, it is for Jesus and the church, among other foundational, interrelated politics like the economy of grace and forgiveness. However, the divine economy of grace, forgiveness, and reconciliation are not limp wristed, passive attempts at mediating relationships. Importantly, Christian peace and justice also does not trivialize the rift or violation, instead it takes seriously the violation, the people, and the redemption. Human involvement in grace, forgiveness, and reconciliation on this side of the parousia does not disappear transgression, as if it never happened, but transforms relationships today into how they will eschatologically be – swords beaten into plowshares and the lion laying down with the lamb. Even much of liberation theology can be read this way, as it seeks to redeem people, oppressor and oppressed, and their oppressive relationship.

In fact, even the church today as the mission of the basileia of God does not achieve a thoroughgoing justice throughout the globe. It is a participant in what can be achieved locally throughout the globe – in the interruption of the way of death by God – before the parousia. Thus, reconciliation today is not particularly retrogressive. The Jews, homosexuals, and handicapped killed in the Holocaust and the Germans who designed and implemented the programs are both dead and beyond the reach of the church (as is the case in 9/11 or some of Darfur or some of Iraq, etc.). We live in the aftermath of dead, irreconcilable generations and only God can enact a full redemption at the end of time; nevertheless, the church has plenty of redemptive work to do today. In fact, to stop death in its tracks is the key to redemptive work; the past will not tyrannize the present or the future. Despite the shortcoming of the church, it is formed by the memory of Christ and eschatological hope and can therefore seek a true sense of justice and peace; the ecclesial vision is comprehensive and holistic. It attempts to live the interruptive action of crucified and resurrected grace that declares the end of death’s sting. Death will not have the last word; it shall be stopped, interrupted this very day, so as to make way for divine peace – the flourishing of people and relationships. The church, rightly understood even in its brokenness, seeks to embody the in-breaking of the basileia; if we act right, if we live up to our call to witness, we can participate in making space where the basileia breaks in and creates a social space of reconciliation, of redemption, of peace. It is this Christological power embodied in social existence that the State in its individualist anthropology cannot rightly account for. With these Christian relational definitions of justice and peace in mind, Paul’s exhortation for Christians to settle relational breaks among themselves – and so to be the “witness to the inauguration of the kingdom of Christ” – is intelligible.

The difference between State and Christian notions of peace and justice should make clear to the reader that Christianity attempts to go far beyond the State in the ecclesial endeavors to rightly remember Jesus (specifically anamnesis of the Christ). Thus, when reconciliation is achieved in lieu of, say, litigation, something better, something holistic and healthy has been achieved. Supported by Rowan Williams’ argument, this seeking of the global common good through prophetic reconciliation should be recognized as legitimate and helpful. The social body of Christianity, the church, and its jurisprudence should be recognized for the sake of the faith’s adherents (who are also citizens of the State), to avoid an oppressive exercise of law, and to embrace those who seek, and arguably achieve, the common good by peaceful means.

Before moving on, I want to make very clear that this understanding of equal jurisprudence and transformative accommodation is not to be understood within the categories of something like a chaplain in the United States army. Christian jurisprudence crosses the borders of human categories because it is relational. It is not to be coerced to enable the status quo as it seeks to continue oppression, of say, the Native Americans in the United States, rather it aims to achieve reconciliation that interrupts the abusive relationships and works towards a flourishing peace. The church is not to be behind the soldiers enabling them kill and absolving them of guilt, but in the crossfire and in the trenches, working for reconciliation. The church in its very being inherently works for this global common good. This is the natural political outworking of ecclesial/communal, ethical embodiment of its memory of Jesus that has been stripped by the State, as the church has been fragmented by the monopolistic jurisprudence of the State.

Imagining a Theopolitical Response

I watched Romero today.

It got me thinking, again, on how Romero responded and how we might respond to our circumstances. I imagine something that I call liberative action-speak rooted in the subversive communal-existence of the church.

In today’s crises, the combination of war by the state and economic oppression by Wall Street, we need an Oscar Romero. We need someone who would not stop proclaiming the Christ who saves – the Christ, who incarnated in the Church, stands against the violence of the state and the coercion of the market in a stand-fast love (hesed).

We need another Martin Luther King Jr. who, as an ordained minister, died for both civil rights (or theologically, human dignity) and condemned the war in Vietnam before it was fashionable to do so. In fact, it is easily argued that it wasn’t civil rights that ultimately led to his death, but the standing against evils that America perpetrated; once the “north” saw MLK Jr. as a threat to the powerful in America (not that visible racism isn’t a real, violent power), he was a marked man.

We need a loud prophetic voice and the church to surround such a man or woman. We need an ecclesial movement that moves into the margins. I see the National Religious Campaign Against Torture and a number of other movements started by Christians, but these seem to lack a specific force behind them.

It is quite plain to me that the state forces the stripping of the prophetic tradition in black theology, merely on the basis of electability; the economic forces attempt to absorb the criticizers; and the media, with their own poor understanding and latent racism (not to discount the racist tendencies of the state and market), will call those speaking truth in the church as the church, racist.

The freedom of God is never at the expense of someone else, while American freedom says that others must die. The freedom of God is the rejection of throwing people down. God’s freedom recognizes that the American wealth accumulated is by and large blood money – stolen at the cost of others’ lives and continues to mine people as if they were ore deposits.

This new Romero must stand up in today’s world – in America – and speak for both hurting Americans and those outside of America. While there are numerous domestic issues that desperately need to be addressed, there are equally a multitude of foreign issues as well. What is the common denominator? Xenophobia. The fear of strangers, and more specifically, that these strangers are a threat to future prosperity. Never mind that these economic “gifts” we have “received” are at the cost of other people.

Therefore the new Romero is an international person, with international concerns. No one is a stranger for the new Romero. While there might be people outside of one’s community, an “other” if you will, they are no stranger, nor treated as a stranger. The new Romero is hospitable in a “radical” way, a subversive way that says creation matters first and foremost – the guiding hermeneutic for living in the world is how we treat other humans. This new Romero captures the attention of many people, while he or she regularly condemns the crises at hand. However, this new Romero, as part of the church, follows in the footsteps of Christ that lead to ruin. The church may find itself in “ruin.” It will find itself in death. It will find itself in death.

Yet this folly or foolishness is the cross, with the trust that the body of Christ will never really die forever. Our political act is to walk forward and to not expect safety, for no disciple is greater than the master. Our freedom in God is to die and know that God will redeem despite of the evil done.

We need a new Romero. Perhaps Christians in America – maybe even the church as a whole – will collectively be this Romero and answer its call. I pray it does. For what other hope do victims have?

Talking about Obama and His Church

I have to admit, I’m disappointed in Obama and the whole political process, but the latter doesn’t surprise me. Neither did Rush Limbaugh’s categorically false and woefully misinformed response: calling Mr. Wright “a race-baiter and a hatemonger.”

It is also safe to say that the media gets absolutely none of this as it did with the Williams row, or what the Pastor Wright really drives at. They should be ashamed of themselves – just as white as part of the church in America. Again, no surprise.

One aspect about theological study and discourse is that it is fundamentally dialogical. It is conversational, which is why I have no qualms about what I’ve done to follow in this post (other than that this may seem rather arrogant – Posting your own conversation? Well, I’m not going to post someone else’s am I?). I had a conversation with Chris Layton, a friend of mine, and it went something like this:

Me: None of this is good, as far as I can see right now. The first black president we might have and he’ll go with American innocence other than slavery? Publically, as far as I have seen, he hasn’t brought up slavery much, or the effects that still strongly linger today and doesn’t extend that critique beyond the “black experience” like most black liberation theology does. However, it was the potential to do so that was the most interesting things about Obama, him coming from a black liberation church and embodying the critique. I was quite excited to see it and how his presidency would turn out. I suspect it’d be rather Niebuhrian, but still, better than other stuff.

My “politics” or favorite candidate are quite different than Obama, I’m more of a Kucinich person if anything (but not really a Kucinich person either), but I figured some black liberation from the presidency would do this country a lot of good. Now I’m not sure it’ll actually be that; now he’s kind of like Clinton, Hillary that is, and what good is that?

Chris: I think that the nation-state is not the route by which justice will be enacted.

Me: I suppose there is an upside, there isn’t the bastardizing of Christian hope by making it American hope (although I do admit I haven’t read the book, but it still strikes me as Reagan-esque). As for justice enacted by the nation-state? Sure, it won’t fully, but if there can be some change in the state, peacefully, it’ll at least begin a discussion. Having a Christian in the presidency actually bringing up issues that the church needs to deal with, I could live with that. There are other aspects I object to, but at least he’d do things I don’t see Hillary or McCain doing, but now, in some respects, I’m not so sure.

Chris: I don’t know that someone who occupies that office can speak to the church about churchly affairs. Its a kind of idolatry.

Me: Oh no, I’m not saying he could speak to the church, however, if the society is talking about it, it makes it an easier issue to raise in the church.

Chris: I think it makes it harder. If society talks about it, it will be too easy to let society set the terms of the conversation. For us to talk about these things we have to be free to choose the vocabulary. We have a habit of letting the terms of a social debate be handed to us

Me: True, but we’re always free to choose the vocabulary, just sometimes we don’t.

Chris: I think the times we do are in fact really rare.

Me: That is our problem though, that is not a problem with the debate per se. We need to be that Christian body in the debate.

Chris: Its an endemic problem for us, though. I think wishing for the circumstances that perpetuate the problem is … not good.

Me: I’m wishing for the debate, otherwise some people won’t even talk about it no matter how much we say anything. Its our task to make our voice heard and how we understand such a debate to take place.

Chris: To have a Christian in the white house, no matter how much we hope for him/her, we invite the sorts of mistakes we have been making these past decades – mistaking America’s interests for Christ’s. I would rather a non-Christian in the white house, so we are not tempted to displace our political responsibilities onto the nation-state.

Me: Yes, this is true. I have the same criticism of Huckabee, as I would of Obama. I certainly object to a lot, but I think it would be helpful to have black liberation spoken from the presidency, insomuch that it would bring up a discussion about white America – instead we just assume whiteness isn’t racialized itself.

Chris: We need first to take up those responsibilities before we can “enter the debate” but its so much easier to say “that guy is a Christian and an American and the leader of the free world.” We need to be marginal before we can summon the energy to speak in a way that will reflect the values of the church. See – I am not completely ignorant of liberation theology!

Me: True, but I wasn’t originally talking about our responsibilities, I was talking about the opportunity of Obama could’ve brought, while at the same time living the downsides as well. I figured out of the three, Obama was the most interesting and helpful, but now he really is starting to sound like the other two.

Chris: That may be true, but I remain very doubtful of any move to place hopes in a person who is aiming at such a position.

Me: The other two seem to look like typical presidential contenders and will simply use Christian language to pull from a niche for votes. I wasn’t placing much hope, especially now. It wasn’t like I was gunning for him from the beginning, more than wanting to see a black president. I didn’t think even then, that would bring salvation or make the country un-racist. Its just that Obama would be the healthiest of the three and by that virtue alone, the most interesting. Perhaps he still is, although I don’t follow everything that closely, but when he severs ties with something I know a bit of, I’m seeing something that disappoints me.

Me: And then I think, we’re screwed no matter what, and really that’s the whole idea of the church. We can’t really control the machinations of the world – like violence brought upon ourselves – instead we react strongly as Jesus for the hurting as the church no matter the consequences. I think again, as I am often reminded, of Oscar Romero and martyrdom.

Chris: This is better, methinks, those last two, not being able to control the machinations of the world and so on. If we vote, it is as a subversive.

Me: Yeah, a lot of liberation theologians may only like part of that.

Chris: Well, I’m not much of a liberation theologian.

Me: Cone, as a Niebuhrian (or taking a lot from Niebuhr), is okay with seeking power. While Niebuhr’s conception of power is complex, it still is rooted in the idea of not letting the oppressor oppress. Of course I’m simplifying it, but that is the general gist. So he might half like what I said, but certainly not all of it, as I’m so critical of the “liberal” project of working in the state (ironically, a great deal of conservatives/evangelicals/fundamentalists buy into the “liberal” project, but deny its affects). While I think he would like the idea that the white church would have to give up its privilege to do what I described: to be with, rather than “speak for” the hurting (thats an incredibly incredibly important distinction). I’m not a fan of some ways we speak of in empowerment here at Union, but if we are empowering when we chose to live with and support the poor as they speak, then I’m all for that. None of this representation crap, that so many people advocate – it keeps people in the same position and does little to change the systemic problems.

And then we digress.

My Concern with Huckabee

I’ve got concerns about all the candidates, but I do not think any of my concerns actually matter (the Alaskan vote means very little, that is, if I was partaking in state liturgy), until I saw this on Mike Huckabee. On this I cannot stay quiet.

Huckabee, who was a minister before he served two and a half terms as governor as Arkansas, took to the stage for about half an hour at two Baptist churches in South Carolina and told the congregations: “I am here today to talk about Jesus and not to talk about me.”

“I always try to remind people that there is a place for politics, but when I come to church, it’s to worship,” he said at Gateway Baptist Church in Irmo, where he was mistakenly introduced as “Governor Hucklebee.”

In Irmo and at First Baptist Church in Fountain Inn, Huckabee weaved jokes and anecdotes from his life in Arkansas into his sermons while also demonstrating a deep familiarity with the New Testament, quoting passages from memory.”God is still looking for good soldiers, good soldiers for Christ,” he told the congregation in Irmo. “Every single person here is a soldier that God needs in his army. He is just waiting on us to say here am I, send me.”

…After the later service ended in Fountain Inn, Huckabee and his wife Janet lingered for an hour shaking hands with dozens of church-goers who had lined up to meet them, many of whom told CNN they were already supporting Huckabee’s presidential bid.

Now, beyond the obvious problem of quoting Isaiah 6 (“Here I am Lord send me”) inside of an explicitly militaristic interpretation, I have a concern. I don’t quite care much that America could once again have a self-professed Christian as President; however, I am concerned that the body of Christ – the church – will have the President of America in it. Huckabee, like many other presidents and presidential candidates, makes a false, categorical distinction: that the person who orders the bombing runs on people for America could walk into worship without the acknowledgement of vicious, un-Christlike action, much less the with holding of communion or confrontation.

The movie Godfather I comes to mind. While Michael is in the church at the baptism of his child, the hits he previously ordered are carried out. The juxtaposition in the movie makes my stomach ill. The insidious nature of what Michael has done is clearly evident, but I also think about the complicity of the church at that very moment. In all likely hood the priest did not know what Michael was doing, but a pastor at a church, if the president were to walk in, would know. I would want to walk out, unless if the president were there for repentance. Still, I’m not sure that would be enough. Repentance of specific actions is a good thing, a necessary thing. Nevertheless, when the president walks into the church, he/she does not sever their ties with their position in the world, in fact, the exact opposite is true. When the president enters the church, he/she brings in violence and if the church does nothing, the church becomes complicit.

This is one reason why I have a hard time seeing a Christian as president, because to do so means one gives up so much of one’s self – relationships within the body of Christ (come on, don’t tell me that bombing a country doesn’t affect Christians there, much less other humans we should love) and one’s relationship with the divine. Relationships – the foundation of our humanity and faith – must be seriously, negatively affected. Machiavelli puts a serious strain on faith.