flying.farther

This post is partly a response to Religion, Politics, and the Christian Right: Post-9/11 Powers and American Empire by Mark Lewis Taylor, but it also begins the outlining work for the preface of my MA thesis.

Mark Lewis Taylor quite frankly stated his thesis for the book: “9/11 is best interpreted as a ‘mythic moment’ that temporarily ruptured the great myths of American Greatness by which many U.S. residents live” (xi). But the popping of the American bubbles of innocence and safety is not the end for the scope of the book, Taylor continues on to summarize the American response to such an attack: “groups already steeped in cultures of felt defeat and embattlement [i.e. the Christian Right] have harnessed the fear and patriotism of the post-9/11 moment for their ends” (69). Within this context of perceived violation and violent response, Taylor follows the Christian Right as it powers its way through politics, primarily through yoking with the neocons, the rich of wallstreet, and to whom the rich give money – Bush. Taylor then puts forth a response founded in his conception of prophetic spirit and a spirit that is inclusive for both Christian and non-Christian alike.

I liked this book, but that comes as no surprise since Taylor touched on the foundation for my thesis. On one hand I am actually annoyed someone already put this together in a similar way as I have planned, after all I spent a lot of time and my own thought getting to my position without the aid of Taylor. But on the other hand, it is reassuring to see someone else making similar moves, particularly someone who has a readership, and I realize the differences between Taylor and I can only make my argument stronger.

The first difference I noted was that Taylor hardly, if ever, mentions memory, instead he starts with the myth believed, characterizes it and moves on. I plan to start at deeper assumptions like memory and willful self-blindness. It seems from this distinction alone, that Taylor is writing to a different audience; he is writing about those Christians who believe the myths (interestingly he calls them Constantinian Christians a couple of times) while I will be writing both at and about. Also, without talking about memory, it does not leave him the thematic connection to use Metz and his conception of dangerous memory, which I think functions very well within prophetic spirit. Taylor, I suppose, did not have to talk about memory for his argument to hold, but it does feel less substantial.

Taylor also seems to collapse the myths that the Christian Right believes, and while I think there is greater value in distinguishing the myths, Taylor in a very short time and in his own way still summarizes the over all effect of the myths and explicitly makes the connection between Reagan’s hope. Despite Taylor’s seemingly simplification of the myths, he still describes the big picture well and so I do not think I can fault him for the simplicity.

I will write a thesis that cuts across both conservative and liberal movements, as opposed to Taylor’s critique of the Christian Right and some Liberalism, then again, I will be speaking in explicit Christian categories, while Taylor was choosing to address a broader audience. My thesis will cut both ways also because I do not plan on making a Constantinian turn in my argument and faulting the Christian Right alone, rather I will put forth William Cavanaugh’s critique of the nation-state and its anthropological implications for both conservatives and liberals. Despite how much I value the prophetic spirit – which I also see as the viable response to the state and culture – still latent within the prophetic spirit, as explicated by Taylor, seems to be an anthropology derived from our individualizing, enlightenment social contract (the constitution) as opposed to a Christian anthropology of organic relationship.

I also noticed that Taylor mentioned next to nothing about American terrorism. I do not think it a coincidence that because Taylor did not address innocence, or lack there of, Taylor did not also address American terrorism. However, Taylor did mention the idea of American righteousness, and this seems to be a move that covers similar ground at a quicker speed. For Taylor’s vision of the book, with a simplified version of American myths, talking of righteousness begins to strike at what innocence covers without all the argumentation. This was a good way to shore up his arguments, but I still wish he had talked about it to fill out both an explication about the Christian Right and his argument.

My last observation is not a compare and contrast, but noting once again that I was struck at how similar 9/11 and the Christological event of the cross function similarly. In fact I would venture to say, within the nation-state’s myth, creed and liturgy, 9/11 functions theologically as Christ’s cross – deaths of the innocent at the hand of this great monolithic, terrorist evil. I would also continue to say that this “messianic vision” subverts the Christian story and the Christian cross (44). 9/11 as used by the nation-state is a theological subversion of Jesus Christ. And as the Christian story of cross does not end with death, so to does the nation-state supply a hope of the grand future – however an anthropocentric future – most vividly seen in Reagan.

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.