Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Repenting Neoliberalism from the Call of the Accra Confession: A Ministry for Replacing Accumulation with Equality as God’s Will for Human Economies

Repenting Neoliberalism from the Call of the Accra Confession: A Ministry for Replacing Accumulation with Equality as God’s Will for Human Economies

Rev. Douglas Olds

October 16, 2014

The World Alliance of Reformed Churches (WARC) convened in the late 1990s to evaluate the economic situation in Africa and the developing world from a faith and justice perspective. The result of this convention was 2004’s “Accra Confession” (AC).  As a member of WARC, the Presbyterian Church (USA) (PCUSA) has publicized the text of AC as a document for congregational study and reflection rather than accepting it as an addition to its formal Confessional, doctrinal heritage.  As such, AC is a work of contextual theology rather than an instrument that is intended as a universalistic presentation of the doctrine of Gospel.

[AC involves] the theological conviction that the economic and environmental injustices of today’s global economy require the Reformed family to respond as a matter of faith in the gospel of Jesus Christ. The Accra Confession calls upon Reformed Christians around the world to engage injustices in the world as an integral part of their churches’ witness and mission.[1]

AC is both a claim to Confessional Status (status confessionis) and a cry of suffering and a call for assistance from Christians in the global south.  As a claim to confessional status, AC links the Gospel to fighting for economic justice.  The PCUSA has mostly rejected that linkage, preferring instead Confessional establishment for traditional Reformed, doctrinal concerns.  That rejection essentializes (dogmatizes) the Gospel as the salvation of souls and is part of an historical and conceptual tension between dogmatism and contextualization in Presbyterianism.  The consensus of the contemporary PCUSA seems to be that since the Gospel essentials are not put at risk by the injustices decried by AC, AC is better read as a cry of pain that should be studied empathetically rather than adopted as a Confession with the duties to mission implied thereto.  The question may be asked, does the AC preserve Reformed and Presbyterian concerns, helping it to articulate Christ relevantly (contextualization)?  Alternatively, as Karl Barth asked in the 1920s, does rather the AC serve the entire church as “watchman” over doctrinal integrity (universalism)?[2]  I suspect, with amendment, AC leads us toward both implications, which would spur mission to incorporate the economic suppositions of the Gospel which reveals the justice of God. Unless and until AC is adopted as a Confession by PCUSA, I read and present it as a cry of pain worthy of Christian compassion, charity, and voluntaristic mission.  Were it formally adopted as a Confession, it would imply Christian duty and repentance.

AC describes Global Southern pain as a crisis, beginning paragraph 8, “The policy of unlimited growth among industrialized countries and the drive for profit of transnational corporations…[continuing para. 9] is directly related to the development of neoliberal economic globalization, which is based on the following beliefs:
• unrestrained competition, consumerism and the unlimited economic growth and accumulation of
wealth are the best for the whole world;
• the ownership of private property has no social obligation;
• capital speculation, liberalization and deregulation of the market, privatization of public utilities and national resources, unrestricted access for foreign investments and imports, lower taxes and the unrestricted movement of capital will achieve wealth for all;
• social obligations, protection of the poor and the weak, trade unions, and relationships between people are subordinate to the processes of economic growth and capital accumulation.”

The first substantive section of the AC is “Reading the Signs of the Times.”  As such, AC contextualizes itself in a doctrine of Creation, starting off (para. 5) with “We have heard that creation continues to groan, in bondage, waiting for its liberation (Rom 8.22).”  Two important theological moves are made by this particular quotation of Scripture. First, it grounds its cry of pain in a doctrine of Creation and liberation, theologically linking liberationist impulses in God’s hearing God’s people’s cry in Egyptian bondage (Exodus)[3] with God the Creator of Heaven and Earth, the universalistic assertion of Apostle’s and Nicene Creeds.  From suffering, God calls out a people, creating anew a nation for mission.  The mission of the people of the Exodus was to be a light to the world from whence the Gospel for all people was delivered.  Doctrinally in the Reformed Church, this linkage of liberation with Creation is traditionally more controversial.  Traditional Reformed concerns proposed that reconciliation effected by the Gospel was particularist (limited Anselmian atonement)[4] so that relationships of natural justice derived from liberationist considerations were deemed especially by doctrinaire traditionalists as the realm and exercise of charity rather than duty.  More recently, the PCUSA Confession of 1967 (C67) has attributed a universalist focus to its doctrine of reconciliation:  “9.07 In Jesus Christ, God was reconciling the world to himself…Therefore, the church calls all people to be reconciled to God and to one another.”[5]  A universalist reading of the Gospel, such as contextualized in C67 9.07, makes reconciliation an obligation.  Obedience becomes duty in 9.03: “Obedience to Jesus Christ alone identifies the one universal church and supplies the continuity of its tradition. This obedience is the ground of the church’s duty and freedom to reform itself in life and doctrine as new occasions, in God's providence, may demand.”  We discern here a tension between obedience and freedom, universalism and context.  Where freedom is discerned, contextualization of suffering engenders a mission to charity.  Where obedience is demanded, duty to universally work for justice follows.

            Hence AC’s opening “Reading the Signs of the Times” concludes with the missionary application of Luke 16.13: “14. We see the dramatic convergence of the economic crisis with the integration of economic globalization and geopolitics backed by neoliberal ideology. This is a global system that defends and protects the interests of the powerful. It affects and captivates us all. Further, in biblical terms such a system of wealth accumulation at the expense of the poor is seen as unfaithful to God and responsible for preventable human suffering and is called Mammon. Jesus has told us that we cannot serve both God and Mammon (Lk 16.13).”[6]

            We must exegete this Lukan passage to unpack the tension between duty and charity of missionary response, obedience and freedom, and universalism and contextualization of the Gospel message at question:

Luke 16.13 Οὐδεὶς οἰκέτης δύναται δυσὶ κυρίοις δουλεύειν· ἢ γὰρ τὸν ἕνα μισήσει καὶ τὸν ἕτερον ἀγαπήσει, ἢ ἑνὸς ἀνθέξεται καὶ τοῦ ἑτέρου καταφρονήσει. οὐ δύνασθε θεῷ δουλεύειν καὶ μαμωνᾷ.[7]

We note the figurative and emphatic language. Jesus is addressing the οἰκέτης rather than some specific class, such as his disciples, and emphasizes Οὐδεὶς  by placing it primary in his speech act, so we should expect that he is speaking parabolically (exaggeratedly and symbolically). The verb δουλεύειν ends the first phrase, thus is emphatic in its syntax.  Δουλεύειν is the verb for a servant’s task.  It implies an association with a servant’s virtue, which is obedience.  There is a verb in Greek for discipling, μαθητεύειν, that might have been used by Jesus if freedom and initiative were intended.  This text implies obedience and thus duty.   This parable begs the question whether Jesus is speaking contextually or universally.  Emphasizing Οὐδεὶς by placing it primary in his speech act, Jesus clearly is universalizing, though parabolically, obedience for all who are symbolically characterized as οἰκέτης.  The meaning of this word conveys the concept of servant householder, the activities of which were the primary task of traditional economic systems--production for use rather than production for accumulation.[8]  All economic agents in traditional times save the “lords” (κυρίοις) were householders—producers for use of others (and for their own subsistence) rather than producers for accumulation. 

A different economic system is implied by this parable than what is familiar to us now, but from the exegesis suggested, we see that Jesus is universalizing a message for obedience.  The form of the verb δύναται  in the opening phrase as a 3rd person singular heightens the sense that Jesus is delivering a parable about an economic agent, while the verb is repeated in the last phrase as a 2nd person plural δύνασθε.  By this switch of verbal person and number, again we see how Jesus is both speaking parabolically and universally (paraenetically). He extends an illustration in the third person singular to a second person plural application of “ability.”  “You are not able to serve both God and mammon.”   Δύναται can suggest capability and/or possibility.[9]  With the negative particle οὐ as in οὐ δύνασθε there is the message of constrained capability.  As we have seen that this is a parable of servanthood and householding, the constrained capability can be read either as a household’s servant’s lack of free will in matters of householding, or rather a compunction or binding of that will.  I submit that as we read this passage as a parable, there is no suggestion that servants lacks free will in this matter of loving God or mammon, or of serving two masters. Rather, the constrained capability of serving the master  and God economically is one of choice or possibility. The linkage of the main verbs in this passage --Δουλεύειν and Δύναται-- signals the virtue or capacity of servanthood which is the servant’s capability. The two verbs complement the conceptualization (internal grammatical structure) of virtue of taking the servant’s role. There is an expectation that the virtuous servant fulfills the expected task. Jesus parabolically is demonstrating that there is no capability or meaningful possibility to serve two masters, yet there is an expectation of obedience in economic service.  It is clear that Jesus’s parable, without using command or imperative language, has the expectation of obedience to God’s economic justice that accepts our free potentiality to disobey and attempt the alternative: the fruitless service of mammon. This is a parable of duty rather than charity. Moreover, the linkage in the phrase of the AC has framed its call to repentance of the witnessing church in Creation/liberation theology (Rom 8) and in economic duty (Lk 16).  Jesus’ parable of a farmer receiving a windfall harvest and foolishly building bigger barns to retire (Lk 12.13-21) harmonizes with Luke 16 that the householding function is not an accumulative economic system.[9]  By its framing of worldwide economic context by means of Luke 16, AC is requiring the witnessing church to repent of accumulation economics going by the post-colonial name of “neoliberalism.”[10]

We still need to confront the objection that the Gospel is something distinct from the Creation/liberationist impulse and economic duties in Jesus’s parables.  There may be the claim that Gospel is succinctly Paul’s message that he normalizes in 1 Cor 15 1-3.  Paul anathematizes (Gal 1.8-9) alternative or supplemental presentations of the Gospel.  If Reformed Confessions are only legitimated by watchguarding and correcting presentations of the “authentic “gospel of salvation from hell, then AC might fail to update and contextualize that gospel for present day challenges.  AC thus further contextualizes the Gospel and its applicability in God’s covenant with Noah (Gen 9).  While AC does not ask, I believe that adequate study of AC involves considering whether God’s purposes of sharing the Gospel requires adequate resources and education for individuals to receive the message of reconciliation and salvation.  Does a neoliberal globalized economy of differential accumulation that results in 14 million yearly deaths of children from malnutrition and inadequate health care serve this gospel program?

PCUSA has missionary values that share the Gospel through poverty alleviation via its Presbyterian Mission Agency and fairness in food distribution and access as part of its Global Compassion, Peace, and Justice Initiative. In addition to the Scriptural presentation, there is an empirical refutation of accumulationist economics in the limits to growth or steady state perspective of critical economics.[11]  My academic background in critical economics with Herman Daly at the University of Maryland in the 1990s prepared me for empirical and theoretical criticism of the dominant globalizing paradigm of what was then termed the “Washington Consensus.”   My research problem was to convince my peers and advisors that the public good included a very specific program to make sure that financial centralization does no harm to the poor or the environmentally marginalized and instead devotes resources to these populations.  I engaged in research into the mechanisms, actors, and policies of Trade Theory and I began to conclude that Economic Globalization was not an inevitable product of western capitalism, but a concerted technical effort of a coordinated body of institutions and multilateral agreements to promote accumulation by politically powerful and favored parties.  I also concluded that these mechanisms were designed to, and would in effect, serve established concentrated financial power, disestablishing labor unions, off shore jobs, and play national social and environmental regulations off of each other in a “race to the bottom” harmonization of standards as nations competed to attract capital and gain membership into the multilateral economic policy making councils.  Regardless of the effects on my personal economic future, I concluded this move of globalization and capital concentration violated my understanding of political and ethical justification.  Specifically, it failed a Rawlsian test of justice  by not only failing to improve the lot of the socially and environmentally worst off, but in reality very likely would bring about their further marginalization and misery. [12]

 I believe in the 17 years that have followed, observers of good will have seen that reality of what I concluded in 1997 coming true in the form of increased environmental degradation, the increased vulnerability of the poor to environmental degradation, rising economic inequality, decreased labor power as jobs have been shifted off shore according the absolute lowest costs of production, and a general weakening of sovereign states to pursue independent and targeted social, environmental, and economic policy and regulation in the face of concentrating and mobile financial power.


By 2014 more policy actors are cognizant of the excesses of financial globalization. Indeed, since the financial crisis of 2008/9, financial globalization has been rolled back for want of a controlling authority. Domestic central banks are trying to cooperate in order to harmonize a global financial system.  U.S. job offshoring has slowed, though MAI-like provisions are being negotiated anew in the current Trans-Pacific Partnership [TPP] and Trade in Services Agreement [TiSA] processes. 

I am mindful that God is radically equalitarian, contrary to the presuppositions and intentions of accumulationist economics. The parable of the vineyard owner (Luke 20.9-13) demonstrates that Jesus sees God not only remunerating all workers equally, but that the workers who worked the longest received their wages last.  Human considerations from the perspective of accumulationist economics are labeled by the Center of Value with the vice of “envy:”

Matthew 20.1 (NRSV) “For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. 2 After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. 3 When he went out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; 4 and he said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ So they went. 5 When he went out again about noon and about three o’clock, he did the same. 6 And about five o’clock he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ 7 They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard.’ 8 When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, ‘Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.’ 9 When those hired about five o’clock came, each of them received the usual daily wage. 10 Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage.c 11 And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, 12 saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ 13 But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? 14 Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. 15 Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ 16 So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

20.15 finishes, ἢ ὁ ὀφθαλμός σου πονηρός ἐστιν ὅτι ἐγὼ ἀγαθός εἰμι; which is literally translated, “or is your eye evil that I am good?”  The Vineyard owner as a proxy for the divine Judge is terming the acquisitive economic agent “evil.” It is his own equalitarian distributions that are in contrast “good.”

Culturally, I have considered AC and the Reformed theological distinctives that contextualize an “economic justice message.”  I continue to ask, Do Presbyterian distinctives or structures have some contribution to make to the rejection of and repentance from neoliberal greed? F-1.0205 of the PCUSA Book of Order captioned, “Christ Is the Foundation of the Church” notes the ecumenical foundation of the gospel which harmonizes with the equalitarian parables noted previously.   Specifically, the PCUSA includes in its great missionary ends the “embrace of men, women, and children of all times, places, races, nations, ages, conditions, and stations in life.”

F-1.0304 The Great Ends of [its] Church include: “the proclamation of the gospel for the salvation of humankind; the shelter, nurture, and spiritual fellowship of the children of God; the maintenance of divine worship; the preservation of the truth; the promotion of social righteousness; and the exhibition of the Kingdom of Heaven to the world.

F-1.0402 Ecumenicity: “[Central to] the faith of the Reformed tradition…is the affirmation of the majesty, holiness, and providence of God who in Christ and by the power of the Spirit creates, sustains, rules, and redeems the world in the freedom of sovereign righteousness and love.” In this Presbyterian focus on Providence, the worldly fact of inequality and privation needs to be harmonized with God’s sovereignty over differential but just provisioning implied by a political reading of Romans 9:

Rom 9.14 What then are we to say? Is there injustice on God’s part? By no means! 15 For he says to Moses,    “I will have mercy on whom I have mercy,   and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.”  16 So it depends not on human will or exertion, but on God who shows mercy. 17 For the scripture says to Pharaoh, “I have raised you up for the very purpose of showing my power in you, so that my name may be proclaimed in all the earth.” 18 So then he has mercy on whomever he chooses, and he hardens the heart of whomever he chooses.

More theological work is necessary to harmonize Biblical economic principles with the Reformed confessional emphasis on God’s providence.  

Amos 2.6:

“6 This is what the Lord says:
“For three sins of Israel,
even for four, I will not relent.
They sell the innocent for silver,
and the needy for a pair of sandals.” –Amos 2:6 (NIV)

“...selling even the sweepings with the wheat.” Amos 8.6

Amos lived in the 8th C BCE northern kingdom of Israel, its fate according to the prophet was contingent on how it structured provisioning for the poor.  Likewise the fate of all nations that history has extinguished or is currently contingently tolerating?  While charitable ministry and patriotism—especially the jingoism that characterizes much of contemporary American nationalism—have always seemed to me to be in opposition, I am increasingly led to the necessity of ministry, prayer, and critical resistance to injustice as patriotic acts.  By remediating injustice and economic privation, we who claim to be  Christians in America move to prolong the life-giving forces of the planet to prolong life. That must serve the Creator of life. If we circumscribe or inhibit tenure and access to the deprived, we can be sure that God will take away our access to the necessities of life and tenure in the land in due time.  Repenting the neoliberalism that calls forth the cries of anguish from the global south in the AC may very well lead God to repent extinguishing the American national destiny and political experiment. I am not optimistic: history is replete with tragedy, and the contemporary worldly economy seems in the throes of environmental and social dislocation and catastrophe. My optimism, though, is more deeply founded on the confessional extension of the Gospel to considerations of re-creative and salvific justice for all of God’s children.








[2] Karl Barth, The Theology of the Reformed Confessions. Trans. Darrell L. and Judith J. Guder. Columbia Series in Reformed Theology. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2002, pp. ix-x.
[3] See also Mt. 11.28.
[4] Synod of Dort. Barth (2002, p. 216)
[6] Also Mt 6.24.
[7] Nestle, E., Nestle, E., Aland, B., Aland, K., Karavidopoulos, J., Martini, C. M., & Metzger, B. M. (1993). The Greek New Testament (27th ed., Lk 16:13). Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft.
[8] Householding, reciprocity, and redistribution comprised the scheme of traditional economies prior to the advent of the monolithic, self-regulating market.  Polanyi, Karl. The Great Transformation: the Political and Economic Origins of our Time. Boston: Beacon, 1944, pp. 52-5.
[9] “Windfall.” Sermon by Douglas Olds, August 4, 2013. http://www.togetherweserve.org/windfall/ accessed on 15 October 2014.
[10] Also known as “University of Chicago Boys” monetarism (ca. 1968-71)
International Monetary Fund/World Bank Structural Adjustment (ca. 1980s)
Globalization and Free Trade (ca. 1990s)
Washington Consensus (ca. 2000s)
Neoliberalism (ca. 2010 ff)
[11]Contemporarily described at http://steadystate.org/ and various linked sites.
[12] The "difference principle" proposes to allocate resources and rights first to those most lacking, then as resources and rights remain available, other populations receive distributions, with the most well off receiving the last distributions. Alternatively, inequality is permitted so long as that inequality helps the least well off.  Rawls, John. A Theory of Justice. Cambridge, MA: Belknap, 1971.
[13] See John Piper’s scriptural list of God’s repentant moves (and God’s refusals to repent) at http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/the-repentance-of-god accessed 15 October 2014.

Sunday, May 4, 2014

Paying Your Vows to the Lord


Paying Your Vows to the Lord
A sermon on Acts 2 and Psalm 116
Rev. Douglas Olds
Church of the Redwoods, Larkspur, CA
4 May 2014

 Acts 2:14a, 36-41
14 But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them,
36 Therefore let the entire house of Israel know with certainty that God has made him both Lord and Messiah,h this Jesus whom you crucified.”
37 Now when they heard this, they were cut to the heart and said to Peter and to the other apostles, “Brothers,i what should we do?” 38 Peter said to them, “Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. 39 For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.” 40 And he testified with many other arguments and exhorted them, saying, “Save yourselves from this corrupt generation.” 41 So those who welcomed his message were baptized, and that day about three thousand persons were added.

            
Psalm 116:1-4, 12-19
    1      I love the LORD, because he has heard
    my voice and my supplications.
    2      Because he inclined his ear to me,
    therefore I will call on him as long as I live.
    3      The snares of death encompassed me;
    the pangs of Sheol laid hold on me;
    I suffered distress and anguish.
    4      Then I called on the name of the LORD:
    “O LORD, I pray, save my life!” …
    12      What shall I return to the LORD
    for all his bounty to me?
    13      I will lift up the cup of salvation
    and call on the name of the LORD,
    14      I will pay my vows to the LORD
    in the presence of all his people.
    15      Precious in the sight of the LORD
    is the death of his faithful ones.
    16      O LORD, I am your servant;
    I am your servant, the child of your serving girl.
    You have loosed my bonds.
    17      I will offer to you a thanksgiving sacrifice
    and call on the name of the LORD.
    18      I will pay my vows to the LORD
    in the presence of all his people,
    19      in the courts of the house of the LORD,
    in your midst, O Jerusalem.
    Praise the LORD!

The novelist Walker Percy in 1971 wrote Love in the Ruins.   One of his characters (p. 320) muses, “Suppose you ask God for a miracle and God says yes, very well. How do you live the rest of your life?”
Our two Scripture readings this morning answer that question—to what the 3000 Jerusalem converts in our Acts text ask Peter and his brothers, “What should we do?” They’ve just been cut to the heart by the recognition of the Holy Spirit which leads them to understand that they’ve participated with the Roman authorities in Jesus’s death.
 The Psalmist in Psalm 116 has undergone perhaps an even more severe psychological experience within the “encompassing snares of death, the pangs of Sheol’s distress and anguish.” In both cases, the holiness of God has altered their outlook on sin and trust, and both Peter and the Psalmist propose repentance—what the Hebrew bible calls Teshuva—for going forward.
Teshuva is a restitution or ritual thanksgiving sacrifice.  As the setting for the later thanksgiving, the Psalmist has “called on the name of the LORD:   
 “O LORD, I pray, save my life!” …
    12      What shall I return to the LORD  for all his bounty to me?”
The question of the Psalmist, “what shall I return to the Lord?” is like the question of the Jewish converts to Peter, “what should we do?”  For the Psalmist, it is to offer a sacrifice in the temple where he “lifts up the cup of salvation” in thanksgiving, while Peter instructs the Jerusalem converts to [Act 2.38] “Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may be forgiven; and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. 39 For the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him
             Note that for the Psalmist, lifting the cup of salvation is a form of thanksgiving eucharist in a temple setting, while Peter starts with a theme that is not “seeker sensitive” but employs sacramental suasion as well: repent and be baptized.
 The psalmist repents, committing to pay his vows to the Lord.  What does repentance under distress and anxiety look like?  The Jerusalem converts who appeal to Peter and the brothers are counseled to repent and be baptized, to experience the water closing over their heads while calling on the name of the Lord.There’s more to repentant faith than anguish, and that is restitution, Implied by the Psalmist’s question, “What should I return to the Lord?” Going beyond: “What, Peter, should we do?”  Repentance involves not only the anguished crying aloud of the Lord’s name, but the vow of restitution to make amends for one’s sins. 
Luke, who wrote Acts as well as his gospel, earlier tells the story of Zacchaeus,  the short in stature tax collector who hid in a tree in order to see Jesus and was bidden by Jesus to come down and dine.  [Lk 19. 8]  Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” 9 Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house.  For Luke, it is not enough to change one’s mind. For receiving the cup of salvation it is necessary to make a vow for restitution for harms already inflicted. 

[Interpretation:]  "Remorse" is a feeling that the Jerusalemite converts, Zacchaeus, and the Psalmist felt. Remorse is composed of regret, of feelings of failure to act consistently according to one’s moral standards. That feeling is the precursor to repentance. We read in the Psalm and may infer from the Jerusalem converts that  repentance encompasses feelings of being trapped or forlorn, of anguish, and of despair at theirs and our own lost sin­fulness, as well as a feeling of being alienated from God and from our own deepest spiritual foundations,  of having set aside our own inner authenticity and integrity. The Hebrew tradition of the rabbis notes that recognition of sin and remorse, if they are done without desisting from sin and taking vows of restitution,  do not constitute teshuva per se, only its first steps.[1]
Repentance requires restitution for salvation to take hold--for our feelings of remorse to lead to restitution, which requires us in repentance to act on the regret by making vows to “return to the Lord.”  Recognized between the allusions and parallels of our readings, repentance is the preliminary, and baptism is the fulfillment that leads to salvation. After baptism we approach the cup of salvation in communion with an inventory of our repentance, for as Paul notes in 1 Cor  11.29  all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgment against themselves.
            The promise of salvation is for all, but it requires each of us to respond with the active vows of changed life for the promise to have effect.  For if we continue in our old ways of sin,
we will live lives of anxiety not knowing fully if our relationship with God is active.  Covenant life in baptism and communion requires repentant faith.  We are justified by that repentant faith, but we are sanctified by our acts.  The Psalmist recognizes the essential need of making vows and carrying them out for a right and thankful response to the saving actions of God.  
 Ps 116.14:  I will pay my vows to the Lord  in the presence of all his people.  Just as Zacchaeus makes his vow of restitution in public, the Psalmist too notes the public nature of restitution.
           This public nature of the Psalmist’s vows of repentant faith seems to me to require a public purpose.  It is not, I believe, in view of these texts to pursue vows of abstinence from private vice alone, but rather there are both public and private virtues that are to be lived out in the Kingdom of God.  Justice and peace in the land and community must be the object for our vows to the Lord.
      
           [Illustration:] May 31 is the 125th anniversary of the Johnstown Flood, one of the seminal events of the 19th Century. It was, according to David McCullough’s history[2] of the event, a signal moment in the development of a public ethic of natural use of land and of class consciousness. 
The body of water that flooded Johnstown, Pennsylvania that day was constrained by a poorly designed,  72 foot high mass of stones and lead rebar and pipe, much of  the rebar having been scavenged over the years and repaired by mud and hay. 
The lake that the poorly engineered dam created was used for a wealthy person’s fishing and hunting resort, which included as members executives in Andrew Carnegie’s and Andrew Mellon’s businesses, including Carnegie himself.  People in Johnstown had been living with the existential threat of a flood for close to 30 years after it was initially constructed, though insiders and outsiders marveled at how sailboats could glide among the Allegheny Mountains in a flooded valley 420 feet above the plain of Johnstown.  At each heavy rainstorm, the mood in the town would approach hysteria, soon to die down as the rains ebbed. 
Yet when the unusually heavy rainstorm on May 31 took hold, the dam burst and the lake flowed forth from the fractured dam with the volume of flow of the Mississippi River, destroying all in its path and killing 2209 people.
            I bring up this event for its lessons and current parallels.First, in the inevitable law suits, the hunting club was revealed to be undercapitalized and paid out no restitution to families for negligence.  Second, after expressing little remorse for his participation in the exclusive club, Andrew Carnegie, the country’s second richest man, by September pledged the second in his soon to be long list of libraries to the reconstructed Johnstown.  Carnegie had only pledged one library heretofore, and that was mostly a political act to support one of his associates.  Carnegie made a move of restitution to the Johnstown community such as we are discussing today.
Third, there developed in jurisprudence afterwards the doctrine of strict liability for unnatural uses of land.  Building a sailboat lake high in the mountains failed Adam Wesley  Powell’s definition of a natural use for land. 
In the Johnstown Flood, we see the beginning of an ethic of restitution by Carnegie while at the same time changing the corporate structuring of limited legal liability.  The men of the corporation were fabulously wealthy, but the corporate entity itself was sheltered from legal liability for the unnatural use of land. 
The fourth thing we learn from the Johnstown Flood and its after effects is that a limited liability corporation protects from public scrutiny the motives and knowledge of its shareholders.
The fifth thing we learn is that an act of God will eventually fulfill the catastrophe which an historical record of possibility the land demonstrates. It takes only eyes and an historical consciousness to see that the valley received 100 year rainfalls (or earthquakes) on the order of every 100 years.  Give nature long enough time, the catastrophe that overtaxes the shoddy and the unwise will materialize.
         
             [Application:] We are seeming now to relearn these lessons about unnatural land use in the case of the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant disaster from March 2011.  Questions are being asked how the plant could be designed with suspended spent nuclear fuel pools and built on land given to earthquakes and tsunamis.[3]  
Like the hunting club above Johnstown, the Tokyo Electric Power company appears undercapitalized for the cleanup, and the Japanese government has since passed an expansive State Secrets Bill that muzzles investigative reporting, potentially including the condition of the nuclear reactors and the alleged failure of remediating nuclear waste runoff from the damaged reactors.  The government has moved to make whistleblowing a crime.[4]
Yet, as we’ve learned from Daniel Ellsberg, Bradley Manning, Thomas Drake, and others, sometimes publicizing negligence and criminality is part of a public act of restitution. 
Whistleblowing is an act of confessing that one has been involved in or known of negligence or criminality and then acts to publicize those events in order that they might not happen again.  It means taking a risk and put oneself on the margins of society without the protection of anonymity.We learned from Ellsberg of war crimes in Indochina, from Manning of negligence in the drone strikes that killed innocent bystanders in Pakistan and Yemen. 
In the case of Fukushima, people in Japan and on the West Coast of America are living with the existential threat of catastrophe when a so called act of God might come forth within the parameters of historical probability, say a more localized powerful earthquake or another tsunami.  Living with the threat of a flood of radiation from the damaged power plant is like that of living according to the threats posed by the damaged dam above Johnstown, though perhaps even radically more threatening and unanticipated.
           In these cases, making a vow to the Lord is something we do when our conscience is scarred by complicity, and fulfilling that vow is taking a risk so that the harm is not repeated. 
The Psalmist speaks of making a vow in the presence of the people. The vow is a public act, and thus has some public good associated with it.  For me, the recent turn of the Japanese government to criminalize whistleblowing if it employed against investigations into the case of Fukushima Daiichi’s precarious  and leaking condition, and the recent turn of the Obama administration to criminalize whistleblowing of secret government actions by prosecuting whistleblowers under the Espionage Act are troubling.[5]  These prosecutions are troubling inhibitions of the impetus to come clean, to make vows to the Lord in front of all the people that have a public purpose.

[Conclusion:] I believe these texts from our scripture lessons today speak of the necessity to make vows, take risks, go public, and reduce harms by publicizing the operations of the secretive and liable corporate state.  I believe these texts of repentance, remorse, restitution, and public return are to be applied by all Christians toward a political ethic that opposes the criminalization of whistleblowing so that negligence that imposes unnatural uses onto the land and harms onto its people are halted. 
Secrecy that seeks to evade liability and accountability is the exact opposite of paying vows to the Lord in front of all the people, the opposite of repenting in order to be baptized into the peaceable and just kingdom of God. May such secrecy and evasion not be so for you and me. May we live into our baptisms by being people who make the public vow, for bringing in God’s world of peace and justice.  Amen.    




[1] Blumenthal, David R. Repentance and Forgiveness. Cross Currents 48 no 1 Spr 1998, p 75-82.
[2] The Johnstown Flood: The Incredible Story behind one of the most Devastating “Natural” Disasters America has Ever Known. New York: Touchstone, 1968.

Thursday, January 23, 2014

FESTIVE LOVE

FESTIVE LOVE
A sermon by Rev. Douglas Olds


Don’t look for someone to complete you, look instead for someone you can love completely. 

[Here is the sole lectionary selection from the Song of Songs in the Reformed Christian church calendar.  I invite you to sometime spend 20 minutes to read the full text of the Song of Songs:]

[Song of Songs 2.8-13]
      8 Listen! My beloved!
         Look! Here he comes, leaping across the mountains,
         bounding over the hills.
      9 My beloved is like a gazelle or a young stag.
         Look! There he stands behind our wall,
         gazing through the windows,
         peering through the lattice.
      10 My beloved spoke and said to me,
         “Arise, my darling,
         my beautiful one, come with me.
      11 See! The winter is past;
         the rains are over and gone.
      12 Flowers appear on the earth;
         the season of singing has come,
         the cooing of doves
         is heard in our land.
      13 The fig tree forms its early fruit;
         the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.
         Arise, come, my darling;
         my beautiful one, come with me.”



The Song of Songs (also known as the Song of Solomon) has been a curiosity to Biblical readers for millennia.  There is no direct mention of God (save 8.6), and its unabashed sexuality and forward female voice was elided by the ancient ascetics and later churchmen.  In order to downplay the physicality and bring forward theology, premodern commentators have primarily read the Song as allegory.  That is, the Song of Songs is read as a love poem between Israel’s God and his people, or later, Christ’s love for his church.  

Allegory interprets the physical images of the poem as representing a non-empirical--non-tangible-- reality of the Soul or Heaven.  Pope Gregory the Great (d. 604) applied allegory to his interpretation of the Song of Songs “as a certain machine” to elevate the soul to God, finding God where no mention of God exists. In 590, he noted his non-theological bias against human sexuality in the Song when he decreed that married couples who mixed pleasure with procreation “transgressed the law.”  Roland Murphy in The Anchor Bible Dictionary notes, 

[The] traditional interpretation of the Song in the Christian community was motivated by certain ascetic and spiritual views that prevented a proper understanding of the literal historical sense. Yet the Song became one of the most popular books in the Middle Ages, when it was accorded more “commentaries” than any other OT book. In the 12th century alone, there were some thirty commentaries written on the [Song]. Outstanding among these is the work of Bernard of Clairvaux:  Eighty-six sermons delivered over a period of eighteen years, 1135–1153…Bernard had the knack of recognizing the experience of love which is in the Song. He called it “the book of experience” (Sermon 3, 1), and for him the greatest experience is love: “Love is alone sufficient by itself; it pleases by itself, and for its own sake. It is itself a merit, and itself its own recompense. It seeks neither cause, nor consequences, beyond itself. It is its own fruit, its own object and usefulness. I love, because I love; I love, that I may love” (Sermon 83, 4).

As contrasted with an allegorical reading, modern interpreters have tended to recover the Song’s historical sense.  It is read now as a literal poem of sexual expression and longing.  My friend Annette Schellenberg at San Francisco Theological Seminary has proposed that the Song of Songs was a performed drama at ancient Jewish festivals.  Modern commentators differ as to the structure of the poems making up the Song of Songs: who is speaking when and to whom.

However, this literal historical and dramatic approach helps us recover the dialogue of a man and woman with mutual physical desire.  In this recovered historical reading, we may note the Garden metaphors and images, so that God, even if unnamed, might be approving of this mutuality and physical desire for egalitarian closeness that harkens back to the creation of Eden and the male and female Adam and Eve.  Unlike in the rest of the Old Testament where sexuality is linked with the need for posterity and procreation, in both the pre-fall Eden and in the Song of Songs, physical closeness and mutuality between the sexes is idealized.

 The woman’s love is not something to be taken nor even earned—it is given freely, mutually.  It is a message for our current age of taking advantage or commercializing love for sex.

The Song of Songs may indeed be the drama of physical flourishing and mutuality of an idealized community—a lush primeval Garden outfitted by the Creator for the freely chosen enjoyment of its denizens.  If Prof. Schellenberg is correct that this drama was acted out in festivals, it might be seen as a reenactment of this innocent and childlike delight in the Creation where sex is unencumbered by violence, manipulation and one-sidedness.  This innocent and childlike delight in the creation might very well honor the Creator, so we might arrive at a more historical than allegorical theology, a theology that appreciates sexuality as a gift rather than a temptation to sin.

What is the nature of the love relationship in the Song of Songs?  As Murphy noted, ascetic and flesh-denying practices of both Jews and Christians could not endorse the open expression of sexual metaphors, freely given, such as the Song involves.  And yet as Bernard so compellingly noted, God is love and thus clearly community endorsed love is to be discerned in this text canonized by religious communities even as sex- and flesh-denying as the Dead Sea Scrolls fellowship at Qumran.  If the historical is to be preferred to the allegorical (as I think it must), how do we find God in the normative expression of physical love found in the Song of Songs?

Hugh of St. Victor (c. 1096–1141), who was an older contemporary of Bernard of Clairvaux, asks that very question in his treatise, “Of the Nature of Love.”  He claims, “There are, then, two streams that issue from the fount of love, cupidity and charity… [L]ove [is]  a single movement of the heart, is of its nature one and single, yet is divided in its act. When it moves inordinately that is, whither it should not it is called cupidity; but, when it is rightly ordered, it is termed charity.” Hugh is making a claim that there is a rightly ordered love act and a wrongly ordered love act.  He is reading the Latin Bible’s uses of the words caritas [Greek: agapē ] and eros.  He is distinguishing the two.

Classical scholars I’ve spoken with tend to deny a distinction between agapē and eros, and I believe that in the pagan literature there might be little distinction.  Socrates in Plato’s Symposium has it that erotic love aids the soul’s ascent toward immortality, and it might be argued by them that Christian love does the same.  Yet the Platonic eros fulfills the self’s desire.

In the moral literature of the Old and New Testaments, the writers are wholly concerned with the practicalities of love of neighbor regardless of the self's desire.  When Christian writers speak of eros I believe they are calling us to acknowledge the excellence or baseness of our love of things and qualities, especially whether it is focused on the self or on others.  Hugh has it that love directed where it should not is cupidity/eros.  Love that is other directed, that does unto others what we would have them do for us, is charity/ agapē.  

Jesus in the Gospel John 13.34 commands his followers: ἀγαπᾶτε ἀλλήλους, Love Others.  There is not a sense of desire for qualities or things outside of mere otherness, and this is rather a servant-love.  Charity.

Returning to the Song of Songs, I believe that erotic desire is clearly in view.  But that erotic desire is not a modern eroticism.  There are three aspects to the erotic love of the Song of Songs.  First, it is mutual.  Second, it is other-directed.  Relatedly, it is not narcissistic, which is self-directed and concerned with fulfilling the self's objectives.  Thus I believe the Song's desire is distinct from Platonic eros.  The Song’s desire is a way station in the development of an ethic of agapē.  The love in the Song of Song’s is not what Hugh would call cupidity, a desire for what should not be desired, but rather the desire is for the primeval God-given qualities of the desired lover.  The metaphors of creation and of peaceful and harmonious communal life in the Garden thus locate the desire in God’s peace and wholeness.  Reading the Song of Songs has us meditate on the lovers’ desire for noble qualities in the other, and not on some base qualities or characteristics.

Note, too, there is no sense of that modern affliction, narcissism, in view of the Song of Songs.  At one point, the lover notes  the object of her affection likewise desires her.  But she shows no inordinate thrill at this prospect, other than idealizing the mutuality of desire, clearly a divine norm for love.

So much of modern erotic desire fulfills the narcissist’s craving.  Christopher Lasch in his book The Culture of Narcissism notes that the decline of the 19th C family was associated with disintegration of personality and the desire for constant admiration and commercial demand. The movie Jerry Maguire had the line, “you complete me.”  The erotic desire is on personal fulfillment, akin to the pagan and Platonic ideal of eros. “You complete me” is not in view in the Song of Songs. Seeing myself in the lover's eyes is not in view of the Song of Songs. Concerned with commerce and market relationships of supply and demand, the modern narcissist commercializes sex and derives self-worth from the superordinate wage which supposedly measures social esteem and market demand. The social Darwinist as Don Juan does likewise, deriving self-esteem from money and from a bevy of lovers admiring his sexual "fitness." 

The Song of Songs does not have such commercial or market aspects to sexuality.  The woman is not given in marriage by her parents, but freely chooses her beloved. We indeed encounter an ancient’s understanding of what erotic love is inside a Garden of beauty and sufficiency (which is not to say glut or hoard).  And in that ideal Garden space, love is other directed and mutual.  This is a world in which marriage's highest values are loyalty and care taking, not personal fulfillment or the self's happiness.  Such a love mirrors the divine love, the ideal desire for what is beautiful, elegant, and good. Until we reach that state, Jesus gives us a servant’s task:  ἀγαπᾶτε ἀλλήλους, Love Others. Don’t desire your self's physical beauty or attempt to find fulfillment in the other’s desire for you or your work product, but serve others as the Kingdom of God is being made anew in your virtues.

The Love desire in view in the Song of Songs thus might be seen as the highest form of human love, a correction to the pagan sexual desire. It is the love shown by the woman who poured pure nard on Jesus’ feet, unconcerned with its scarcity, unconcerned with its interpretation by onlookers.  It is a lavish and sensual act readied by virtuous servant-love. It brings harmony and solidarity to the family, neighborhood, and nation.
 The Bible has a deep ethic to make love and not war. 
 The Bible is telling us in the Song that when lovers are happy, the community flourishes in the guidance of its God. 

Don’t look for someone to complete you, look instead for someone you can love completely. This is the kind of love in view in the Song of Songs and for the adored in Psalm 45. May we all be privileged to glimpse this festive, selfless love from our lover.  And may we all have the grace to convey it to our lover as well.  AMEN.

Monday, December 30, 2013

My New Year's Resolution Considering the War on Christianity is Self-Inflicted

My New Year's Resolution Considering 
the War on Christianity is Self-Inflicted

Rev. Douglas Olds
December 31, 2013

We've just gone through the annual season where certain factions allege a "war on Christmas"-- a proxy skirmish in the so-called larger "war on Christianity."  Now, I don't believe such is the case that a battle exists between me and mine and some mass of outsiders and aliens in this most Christianity-besotted of nations.  I believe instead that this struggle for acceptance that Christians undergo is part and parcel of our claiming a privileged relationship with the One God.  Such an outrageous claim--not meaning untruthful--cannot be passed by easily by the said One God.  If one claims a special, communicative relationship with the Creator of the Universe, it comes at a cost. It cannot be earned cheaply.  Divine grace and salvation is free, but divine friendship and divine closeness in order to speak for the deity is hard won and constantly being re-negotiated on the Sovereign's terms.  The Christian Spiritual Life is characterized by struggle, where the ultimately holy and good infinitude is presumed spoken for the by the limited and sinful finite. When we claim to speak for God, absolute sincerity and accuracy is necessary, and any hypocrisy or error is met with stern correction by our God. God's correction may come from the scoffing and reproofs of outsiders: it is our own Christian presumption and hypocrisies that are in the dock, not God. Preachers have long noted the risks of spiritual injury from lack of diligence to the witnesses of the Holy Spirit operating Biblically and in history.

Therefore, one of the reasons I try to read from the Psalms daily is not to succumb to the propaganda from many of the same culture warriors that the Christian spiritual life is consistently joyful, peaceful, or without struggles. Life in Christ is for me, as for the Psalmist, a struggle for understanding and holy action leavened by consolation, wisdom, and joy. There's no pretending otherwise.

Representative of this scrutiny and relationship struggle is expressed in Psalm 139 (NIV):

      1 You have searched me, LORD, 
         and you know me. 
      2 You know when I sit and when I rise; 
         you perceive my thoughts from afar. 
      3 You discern my going out and my lying down; 
         you are familiar with all my ways. 
      4 Before a word is on my tongue 
         you, LORD, know it completely. 
      5 You hem me in behind and before, 
         and you lay your hand upon me. 
      6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, 
         too lofty for me to attain. 

      7 Where can I go from your Spirit? 
         Where can I flee from your presence? 
      8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there; 
         if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. 
      9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn, 
         if I settle on the far side of the sea, 
      10 even there your hand will guide me, 
         your right hand will hold me fast. 
      11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me 
         and the light become night around me,” 
      12 even the darkness will not be dark to you; 
         the night will shine like the day, 
         for darkness is as light to you. 


The social life of those connected to the God of Abraham is also often absurd.  I am not alone in tending to speak loudly of politics and religion, two taboos in "polite" company. Thus either we tend to be outliers in neighborhood networks, or outcasts.  We likewise tend to be idealists in some historical frame, noting that reality can't possibly be what a good God intends. Thus we tend to be contrarian, suspicious of at least some dominant cultural narratives.  Finally, we can be intellectually cruel when kindness is called for, for example when speaking of rank unknowables--life after death and the inner spiritual life and motivation of others.  

Accordingly, since the War on Christianity is self-inflicted--because it is our outrageous claim to understand and transmit God's will accompanied by God's stern acceptance and correction--my resolution for 2014 is to jettison the certainties while embracing my absurdity with the conviction of kindness. I will fail at times, but I hope all of you will be as ultimately forgiving as the One who in Jesus makes all things new (Rev. 21.5).  May our New Year be the time where the One in our lives and our world triumphs more and more.

Sunday, December 22, 2013

You Can Go Home Again: A Christmas Message, without Angels, Manger, and Swaddling Clothes

You Can Go Home Again:
A Christmas Message, without Angels, Manger, and Swaddling Clothes

Rev. Douglas Olds
24 December 2013

Galatians 4.1 (NRSV) My point is this: heirs, as long as they are minors, are no better than slaves, though they are the owners of all the property; 2 but they remain under guardians and trustees until the date set by the father. 3 So with us; while we were minors, we were enslaved to the elemental spirits of the world. 4 But when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, 5 in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children. 6 And because you are children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” 7 So you are no longer a slave but a child, and if a child then also an heir, through God.
8 Formerly, when you did not know God, you were enslaved to beings that by nature are not gods. 9 Now, however, that you have come to know God, or rather to be known by God, how can you turn back again to the weak and beggarly elemental spirits? How can you want to be enslaved to them again? 10 You are observing special days, and months, and seasons, and years. 11 I am afraid that my work for you may have been wasted.

When it was time to go to college, I returned to my home state from the east coast where my family was living.  While there, I would make rowdy weekend trips up to my hometown.  Even now, I return to western Michigan every summer, and when I do, I feel the call of the old.  Something in me reverts, regresses even, to my memory of what it was like to be young and anxiety free in my home town.  Even now, when I return, I find myself driving a bit too fast on the back roads.  My laughter is freer, tinged by the broad nasal accent toward burlesque stories shared with longtime friends.  I feel the comfort of the familiar, and it’s not just that I feel younger, it’s that those who know me treat me as I once was.  Louder, less inhibited, more teasing given and taken.

Jesus comments on this phenomenon in Mark 6.4 (Luke 4.24) when he notes that no prophet goes without honor except in his home town.  It’s not only that our “homies” know us from way back, it’s that we slip into the comforts of those way back times.  My alma mater’s ditty, “I Want to Go Back to Michigan (to old Ann Arbor town)” sings of this nostalgia for home.  Our memories of our youthful home, if our childhood was pleasant, are souvenirs of experience.  I cherish these souvenirs—the memory of snowy Christmas eves, of apple cider in the dampness and rage of autumn color, of the gleaming turquoise through the trees of my great-grandfather’s lake as we turned the last corner from the antique cornfield-- I burnish memories by turning them over and over in my memory, searching for new perspectives.  Then I assemble to act out with my friends from the old neighborhood.  But of course, they know me too well to take my changed life in ordained ministry too seriously, and that is both a relief and at times an offense, as I know that I have changed, but I am not so appreciated by them for it.

I try to play it down the middle: I am the same old guy when it suits closeness with my friends, and I am a changed man when my moral commitments demand separation.  Yet today’s Christmas message is that I have to choose one or the other, and that the one role of a gentle and mature separation from my tyrannical and sacrilegious inner child is called for even in the midst of the familiar and nostalgic.

To that end, today’s scripture reading incorporates the Apostle Paul’s minimalist birth narrative of Jesus. Unlike the birth narratives in the Gospels of Luke and Matthew, there are no angels, shepherds, wise men, miraculous stars, or apparitions or annunciations in the temple. There is no celebrity mom named Mary. There is no Joseph or manger or inn with animals.  There are no swaddling clothes, or frankincense, gold, and myrrh.   There is no census of Quirinius, or Herod, or slaughter of the innocents.  All of these colorful particulars of the infancy narratives of Jesus are omitted in Paul’s account of the Gospel.  Whether he was aware of these infancy traditions is irrelevant, for Paul’s message has always been the salvific meaning of Christ’s death on the Cross and the liberation of the Holy Spirit for the creation of a worldwide church.  In Galatians 4, Paul suggests the merest outline of an earliest creedal statement regarding what Christians call “the incarnation”:  “when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children.”  This is certainly the earliest textual evidence we have that contextualizes Jesus’ birth, and it predates all the birth legends in Luke and Matthew.

If we compare the earliest Christian hymn documented by Paul in Philippians 2 (6-11), we note that for Paul the incarnation was a means of freedom from slavery.  God comes into the world by sending his son to lead the people from slavery.  That slavery was to the elemental spirits of the world that had to be kept at bay by the Law.  When freed—redeemed—by adoption into God’s family, we are freed from the Law, which was the proscribed customs and rituals of the Israelite people. By taking human form God is leading the New Exodus promised by Isaiah (Is 40.3). 

500 some years prior to Jesus, the Judahite exiles leaving Babylon thought they were living Isaiah’s new exodus when they submitted to the call to leave their comforts and business affairs there to make a straight way through the 700 mile desert back to Jerusalem and Judah.  Hadn’t the new exodus been accomplished in that move?  By the time of Jesus, the majority of people who weren’t in league with Herod and the Romans were concerned that something was seriously lacking with that exodus.  The people were physically returned to Judah, but there was no Davidic king as promised in their scriptures (2 Sa 7), and God had neither returned to the Temple nor had God spoken to a prophet since Malachi just after the return. They were under brutal Roman rule. Instead, following their return from exile, Ezra and Nehemiah had led the people to restore the Law and to rebuild the ruined temple and city.  The people saw God speaking less through the prophets and more through the decrees of foreign emperors who enabled the projects of Ezra and Nehemiah.

So the first aspect of Paul’s creedal affirmation of the Christmas incarnation is God acting in the fullness, τὸ πλήρωμα, of time.  This image is one of pregnancy, whereupon time had begun counting down to some signal, novel event.  Thus there was a time from whence the countdown started, and a time of fulfillment when time enters into a new phase.  I’m fairly convinced that there were people who read the prophet Daniel (9. 25-27) in this context of a countdown to a new age, to an age of the anointed one:

Dan 9.25 (NIV) “Know and understand this: From the time the word goes out to restore and rebuild Jerusalem until the Anointed One, the ruler, comes, there will be seven ‘sevens,’ and sixty-two ‘sevens.’ It will be rebuilt with streets and a trench, but in times of trouble.26 After the sixty-two ‘sevens,’ the Anointed One will be put to death and will have nothing...”

The religious authorities read these numbers as years.  Artaxerxes, in the seventh year of his reign (Ezra 7.8), allows Ezra not only to continue with the restoration and rebuilding of the temple, but Artaxerxes decrees that Ezra, situated in Jerusalem, “possess, appoint magistrates and judges to administer justice to all the people of Trans-Euphrates“ (Ezra 7.25). This required a newly functional metropolitan structure, augmented by Nehemiah who rebuilt Jerusalem’s walls and gates.

483 years (69 sevens) elapsed from Artaxerxes’ 7th  year is 26 A.D., about our best idea of the time of Jesus’ baptism by John, when our textual witnesses report a messianic fervor (cf. Luke 3.1-7; Mark 1.3-8) amidst both the people and the religious scholars.  The people had almost certainly understood the prophetic scriptures of Daniel’s 69 weeks of years, and likely Jesus did too. Hence Jesus applied to himself Daniel’s appellation “Son of Man.” 

This “fullness of time” that Paul situates the incarnation likely refers to this tradition that Jerusalem’s restoration counted down to a new age of the anointed one.  This pregnant time of the run up to  incarnation of the anointed one thus demonstrates how Israel’s God controlled the history and destiny of God’s people.  God enters into the history of a people’s struggle between faith and faithlessness in the form of the incarnated Son of God.  Unlike for Matthew and for Luke, where faithfulness was found among various people surrounding Jesus’s birth—Mary, Joseph, Anna, Simeon, Elizabeth, John the Baptist, the common folk and Pharisees going forth to be baptized—for Paul, the faithfulness that matters is solely Jesus’.  Whereas for Luke and Matthew’s story of the incarnation, the fact that time was pregnant suggested an optimum moment for God to bear forth in the struggle between faith and faithfulness.  Yet for Paul—concerned with God’s glory and absolute freedom-- the struggle of faithfulness is one lonely man’s against a maximum of faithlessness, whereby Jesus takes on the total incarnated task through his ministry, crucifixion, and resurrection as the Son of God.

The second creedal statement of Paul regarding the incarnation of God’s son is the statement, “born of a woman.”  Unlike in Mark and Luke (and in later developments of the institutionalized church), this early creedal statement shows no interest in the particulars of that woman.  There is no exaltation or even identification of Mary, the mother of God. Paul notes that God is changing time, not creating time anew.  There is no “creation ex nihilo” involved in this change or in this incarnation.  The birth of the anointed Son of God involves the old creation into which God steps.  Yet this involves God in history in a way that God wasn’t prior.  The theological implications of this are enormous.  If the people of faith see prophecy as operating in the old time, then God in that old time--at least for Israel--determined history in some strongly deterministic sense. By stepping into history, God participates in historical contingency and gives up deterministic control. Providence is changed by this divine participation in time.  God through deterministic control of the countdown toward the incarnated Son of God could thus be seen as manipulating history, hardening Pharaohs and other historical actors (Romans 9) to bring about God’s will in history, for God’s purposes.  Yet once God’s enters history in the form of the woman’s offspring, God I believe moves toward the cession of strong historical determination and will become in some sense a participant in the contingency of historical time and human freedom.  Jesus was fated, thus determined, but after God dies on the Cross, the determination of history undergoes a change.  Time changes, and so does God’s providential action in soft power.  God leaves the Aristotelian role of "unmoved mover" and becomes an actor both influenced and influencing. God through the Resurrected Jesus now acts providentially to optimize flourishing and justice within the constructs of an “open, non-determined” history.  God through Jesus, by being born and then by dying, takes on the fate of all God’s human creation through the woman and cannot now absolutely predict or precisely determine the future of God's liberated creatures.

This is the insight of “open theology.” God’s action in Israel was historically deterministic—or at least seen so by the Israelite writers of the Hebrew Scriptures--paying disobedience and sin back with just punishment and the mercy that served God’s purposes.  But this action changed, and has been mistaken by some for the absolute death of God. For the witness of post-Easter humanity has been that the battle between faithfulness and faithlessness has entered a new phase, one where war is more calamitous and justice more postponed. God’s incarnation was costly. Yet at the same time, beauty and peace break out in a new ways that would have startled, I believe, the ancients--and convinces me of God’s continued and active existence.  If God through the resurrected Jesus has died to the old way of being God so to create a new way of being human, then this might not surprise us.  We should expect that God allows freedom for both sin and faith, and that God’s Spirit liberated in the new exodus over the Jordan in baptism would be non-deterministic and open to contingency.  God in Jesus has ceased being the tyrant experienced by the ancients.

So to explore this incarnation into a change of being God by becoming God and human at the same time (as Paul is suggesting in this creedal statement in Galatians 4), Jesus we must note initiates the age of the spirit that is a time of contingency, soft power, and persuasion, not of coercion and force.  The latter is not-god. We who have found adoption into God’s loving household are citizens in that age of the Spirit because of Christmas.  The age of the Spirit is one where mercy takes precedence over justice.  And that is where I find my hope, for myself and for others.  God in Jesus being born of a woman in the fullness of time in order to redeem us by his Word and Spirit is a gentler God than the YHWH of the Hebrew Scriptures.  This is also to God’s glory.  God in Jesus does not give up beckoning and calling gently to our adoption into the Spirit. For those who refuse there is Law--and the awful prospect of judgment.

It is meaningful that Paul contextualizes this early creedal statement about the Son of God’s changing time and becoming human in the form of adoption into a family of prayer. “And because you are children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, ’Abba! Father!’”  (Gal. 4. 6).  The incarnation into time is thus the era of Spirit-filled prayer.  This also suggests the contingency of God’s providential action.  In open theology, God chooses to act in history by intervening elegantly (parsimoniously and beautifully) among alternative futures, in the process not violating the integrity of covenanted human free will.  This choice of God as open to historical contingency thus necessitates prayer as an input for God’s decision making. If we pray for a certain alternative (say sustenance for a poor family which we assist the best we can), we in God’s family add to the desire for a certain kind of future.  Sustaining charity is necessary, but prayer in addition brings God’s mysterious and universal suasion of conscience and soft power into that particular situation for future relief.  The prayer may not be answered according to the time frame that we hope for, but I believe that is because God’s providence is optimizing justice and flourishing amidst a huge number of alternative futures.  Such is the glory of God, and such is the associated necessity of prayer by God’s redeemed family.  This I believe Paul is affirming for us at Christmas.

Jesus during his ministry is leading the descendants of the Israelites away from the old history and into the new history of the spirit. It is the spiritual new exodus. You can go home again, like the Babylonian exiles, but you can’t take up your old life.  You can’t, as Ezra had it, recreate Israelite history in the festivals and the rituals.  We can go home again for Christmas, but we must come home transformed, both ourselves and our understanding of God. We have been liberated by the Spirit from the Law. In my illustration at the beginning of this sermon, I may go to my home town with joy and levity but with separation (which is holiness) from my old way of being when I was under the Law.  I go home again not the person I was when I was a child, but I go home as one who puts away childish things for the sake of the Spirit that dwells within me.  It matters not whether my friends and family accept my transformation or Spirit, but it matters to myself to live with the integrity and the calling of my transformed self.  I may indeed go dishonored in the eyes of my hometown friends, but I look forward to the unfolding grace, flourishing, and productivity of the Spirit in the history of those I touch and pray for.  For me, God has ceased being a tyrant and a bringer of retribution.  I try to live that new history out in all my prayerful deeds.  I am adopted into God’s family outside of the Law, in which there is freedom, peace, and joyous relief from the bondage of sin.

May it be so for all of us this Christmas.
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