Pietistic (not harmonic) Convergence

I believe this was in print before we learned the theology of puff pastry:

A year ago, I prepared a last minute Thanksgiving feast for my husband, kids and myself. In the end, it was a lot of food for just four people and sure enough, we had a lot of leftovers. While I was grateful for God’s bounty, I wasn’t exactly jumping up and down at the thought of eating the same thing for the next four days. But letting even a morsel go to waste wasn’t an option, so I improvised that year and lovingly turned those mundane extras into something better.

There is beauty and joy in such things. Turning an inferior “has-been” into a shining star is somehow so fulfilling and therapeutic. As with the restoration of a rusty classic car or the renovation of a once-stately building, our human nature relishes the return of a forgotten and unremarkable outcast.

And so does our Lord. For without his redemption, our souls would be corrupt and unworthy – even worse than four-day-old turkey. But with Christ’s saving grace and redemption our souls can be made new and perfect and desirable again. So while Thanksgiving is a great time to pause and express our gratitude for what we have, I find that by creatively reworking the leftovers on the days that follow Thanksgiving, we participate in a great metaphor for redemption. And that is what we should all be most thankful for!

For a critique of stories like this from a truly conservative Roman Catholic (not a logical Roman Catholic), check this out (sorry it’s a video and not much of one but the point it makes about Christian lameness is well worth hearing) and see if it brings back memories of the print version of By Faith.

Do Bishops Use A Different Standard from Pollsters?

Michael New complains that the Pew poll on Roman Catholics in the U.S. does not distinguish between average and serious church members:

The “Public Religion Research Institute” released a fact sheet a few weeks ago on the attitudes of Roman Catholics which had the mainstream media swooning. It found that majorities of Catholics disagree with church teachings same-sex marriage and contraception. It also found that White Catholics were more likely than not to believe abortion should be legal “in all or most cases.” It also found that 60 percent of Catholics feel the church places too much emphasis on sexual issues and should instead focus on issues pertaining to social justice. Furthermore, about 60 percent of Catholics also believe that the church should either “adjust traditional beliefs and practices in light of new circumstances or adopt modern beliefs and practices.”

However, anyone with a passing familiarity with survey research knows that there is a significant problem with this survey and others like it. Namely, it lumps all self- identified Catholics together. It does not draw distinctions between Catholics who attend Mass on a weekly basis and those who attend less often. Both scholars of public opinion and survey research professionals know that church attendance is far better predictor of opinions on issues — particularly social issues — than one’s faith tradition. Furthermore, there is a substantial body of research which finds that frequent Mass attendees are likely to agree with church teachings.

But doesn’t the church’s hierarchy also lump all these people together? Why would Mr. New expect pollsters or the press to be more disciplined in their evaluations than the church’s clergy?

To Which Church Do You Belong?

The fault line that still doesn’t show up on the Allies’ radar:

The recent controversy surrounding World Vision USA’s decision to open employment to same-sex couples and the organization’s subsequent reversal reveals the fault lines in evangelicalism today.

For the evangelicals distraught by World Vision’s initial decision, the controversy was never about the legitimacy or worthiness of people with differing views of marriage doing good work around the world. We should applaud good deeds of relief and compassion wherever we see them and wherever they come from. No, this particular controversy was about the meaning of evangelical.

Can an institution with an historic evangelical identity be divided on an issue as central as marriage and family and still be evangelical? Related to this discussion are questions about the authority and interpretation of Scripture, cultural engagement, and institutional power. All sides of the debate recognize that the definition of evangelical is at stake, which is why some are now publicly casting off the term altogether.

The World Vision decision was a tremor that warns us of a coming earthquake in which churches and leaders historically identified with evangelicalism will divide along all-too-familiar fault lines.

At the risk of sounding proud, Protestants who actually believe that church membership and ordination matter, the World Vision kerfuffle was just more background noise.

Taking Every Square (Liquid) Ounce Captive

In honor of the series running over at TGC on pastries, Old Calvinists may be in the mood for a post that has less to do with flour and more with peat. The following is also a confirmation of a point made one student this morning during discussion of Progressivism and Prohibition. I had not heard this before, but legend has it that Laphroiag was on sale throughout the 1920s because no one believed anyone who was not sick would drink it:

This Scotch whisky carries an interesting story with it. During Prohibition in the United States, Laphroaig was still allowed to import their whisky at its cask strength as cough medicine because the United States government deemed the whisky too strong and medicinal to be consumed recreationally.

Here is how one Scotch-drinker describes Laphroiag:

This to me is the most immediately identifiable nose in the realm of Scotch whisky—beast-like, phenolic, wheelbarrels of iodine, sea salt, nonstop peat and kippers—and as if the medicinal tidal waves aren’t enough, beneath them lies a thin layer of fino sherry—is this loutish nose too much? why am I reaching for a rifle?—on palate, the peat reek is so thick I have to scrape it off my tongue with a spatula; the three-alarm smokiness leaves scant room for anything else—I wonder if there is anything else in terms of flavor—maybe it’s just peat, smoke, peat, smoke; I appreciate the damn-the-torpedoes character of this burly brat, but if I were stranded on that proverbial island with only one single malt, Laphroaig 10 most definitely would not be my choice; make sure you have a whip and a chair handy after you open this beastie; my biggest objection to this malt is, what does a newcomer to malts think if they happen to try this five-alarm malt before tasting other, tamer, more elegant malts? Do you lose that person forever?

For (all about) me, the older I get, the more peat, hops, pepper, garlic, Honduran leaf, the more I enjoy. Is this a sign that tastebuds are wearing out?

Should We Change Our Name?

Maybe it should be Metaphysical Club instead of Old Life Theological Society, so impressed as I am by Louis Menand’s book about pragmatism and more. I have not read a history book that has been so hard to put down, so vivid in its depictions of characters, so plot driven as it were, and so accessible in presenting difficultly complex ideas. In fact, I was prepared to dislike the book partly because of a distrust of Pragmatism and partly because of the hype the book received. But now I not only think Menand deserved a Nobel Prize to go with his Pulitzer, but he also has me thinking about the value of what pragmatists did (not to mention presenting William James as one of the most intriguing intellectuals to walk the greatest nation on God’s green earth).

One reason for finding pragmatism appealing is the way that folks like James and Dewey recognized that w-w won’t work either as the motivation for w-w holders or for explaining how people live and specifically live with thoughts. Menand explains:

People reach decisions, most of the time, by thinking. This is a pretty banal statement, but the process it names is inscrutable. An acquaintance gives you a piece of information in strict confidence; later on, a close friend, lacking that information, is about to make a bad mistake. Do you betray the confidence? “Do the right thing” — but what is the right thing? Keeping your word, or helping someone you care about avoid injury or embarrassment? Even in this two-sentence hypothetical case, the choice between principles is complicated — as it always is in life — by circumstances. If it had been the close friend who gave you the information and the acquaintance who was about to make the mistake, you would almost certainly think about your choice differently — as you would if you though that the acquaintance was a nasty person, or that the friend was a lucky person, or that the statute of limitations on the secret had probably run out, or that you had acquired a terrible habit of betraying confidences and really ought to break it. In the end, you will do what you believe is “right,” but “rightness will be, in effect, the compliment you give to the outcome of your deliberations. Though it is always in view while you are thinking, “what is right” is something that appears in its complete form at the end, not at the beginning, of your deliberation.

When we think, in other words, we do not simply consult principles, or reasons, or sentiments, or tastes; for prior to thinking, all those things are indeterminate. Thinking is what makes them real. (The Metaphysical Club: A Story of Ideas in America, 352)

Is w-w, then, simply a justification for a process that is otherwise indeterminate, inscrutable, and hidden?

Raising this question may make 2k the pomo side of contemporary Reformed Protestantism. That is, 2k may be pomo in the sense that the certainties of one kingdom cannot be extended as certainties to the other kingdom (which is most of life). Peter Lawler made a point about postmodern conservatism that made me think much of the grief that 2kers receive comes from people who expect orthodoxy outside the church. In other words, 2kers are unwilling to provide the kind of certainty or absolute standard that so many who take their cues from the culture war want. Lawler puts it this way:

The modern world has now ended only in the sense that we have now seen enough of it to judge it. Although we have reason to be grateful for the wealth, health, freedom, and power that modern achievements have given us, we know that the individual’s pursuits of security and happiness will remain always pursuits—and not possessions. So even as the modern world continues to develop, we can be free of its characteristic delusion, its utopianism. We can speak of its strengths and its limitations from a perspective “outside” modernity, and that perspective is the foundation of conservatism today. Conservatives can be (perhaps the only) genuinely postmodern thinkers. The reason we can see beyond the modern world is that its intention to transform human nature has failed. Its project of transforming the human person into the autonomous individual was and remains unrealistic; we can now see the limits of being an individual because we remain more than individuals. The world created by modern individuals to make themselves fully at home turns out to have made human beings less at home than ever.

Conservative thought today is authentic postmodernism, but it is, obviously, not postmodernism as it is usually understood. Most allegedly postmodern thought emphasizes the arbitrary character of all human authority, the freedom of each human being from all standards but his own will or creativity, and the death not only of God but of nature. These allegedly postmodern characteristics are really hypermodern; they aim to “deconstruct” as incoherent and so incredible any residual modern faith in reason or nature. They shout that everything modern—in fact, everything human—is nothing but a construction.

Postmodernists in the usual sense often do well in exposing liberal hypocrisy, but they can only do so in the name of completing the modern project of liberating the individual’s subjective or willful and whimsical perspective from all external constraints. Conservative postmodernism, by acknowledging and affirming as good what we can really know about our natural possibilities and limitations, is radically opposed to liberated postmodernism—and to the modern premises it radicalizes.

2kers see the hollowness of the modern project by virtue of knowing that this world is not all there is and that the believer’s ultimate comfort comes in the world to come. Critics of 2k regard this skepticism as a betrayal of Christianity or the church’s mission when in fact many critics of 2k are simply dressing up modernity and its narrative of liberty and progress in Christian clothing.

I understand that 2k is not inspiring or optimistic about what we do in this world. But you would think that people who take human depravity seriously would understand the delusions of inspiration and optimism.

Neo-Calvinists, New Calvinists, and Roman Catholics Together?

Both have trouble thinking about Christianity apart from culture.

Drawing together this vision of Scripture we see that God intends us to have dominion over the earth and the rest of creation – which means we must care for it and shape it. This is the foundation of culture, rooted in the land, which we cultivate and use to produce the material elements of culture. In the New Testament we see that culture from a higher perspective is way of life, which embodies the teaching of Christ and the will of the Father in our lives. This is a new dominion of holiness, which sanctifies the world. Both visions are united by seeking to enact on earth what God has made known to us and commanded. A striking image of this comes from Exodus: “According to all that I show you concerning the pattern of the tabernacle, and of all its furniture, so you shall make it” (25:9). Christian culture makes according to the pattern revealed to us by God. . . .

Pope John Paul II knew personally the power of culture as he sought to preserve his nation’s identity in the midst of Nazism and Communism. Through his trials, he became convinced that “the strength of the Gospel is capable of transforming the cultures of our times by its leaven of justice and of charity in truth and solidarity. Faith which becomes culture is the source of hope” (“The World’s Changing Cultural Horizons,” §7). He may also have given us the strongest statement on the necessary interconnection of faith and culture: “The synthesis between culture and faith is not only a demand of culture, but also of faith … A faith that does not become culture is not fully accepted, not entirely thought out, not faithfully lived” (“Address to the Italian National Congress of the Ecclesial Movement for Cultural Commitment,” Jan. 16, 1982). So, yes, faith does need culture so that it may be lived out in the world in a coherent and complete way.

As a 2ker, Stellman might not have used the gateway drug of transformationalism. Then again . . .

Where You Can't Buy a Vowel

I have some Welsh in me from my mother’s side but then again so do most people who have a Jones in the family. While singing in church I have long observed the similarities between Welsh and Hebrew, as in both languages feature consonants. Here are the top ten Welsh hymn tunes according to one list compiler:

PANTYFEDWEN (TYDI A WNAETH Y WYRTH)
FINLANDIA (DROS GYMRU’N GWLAD)
BRO ABER (O TYRED I’N GWAREDU)
DIM OND IESU (O FY IESU BENDIGEDIG)
RHO IM YR HEDD (Rhys)
LAUSANNE (IESU IESU RWYT TI’N DDIGON)
CALON LAN (NID WY’N GOFYN BYWYD MOETHUS)
CWM RHONDDA (WELE’N SEFYLL RHWNG Y MYRTWYDD)
BUILTH (RHAGLUNIAETH FAWR Y NEF)
PRICE (I GALFARIA TROF FY WYNEB)

I’d love to see anyone of these featured on Wheel of Fortune.

Now it turns out the Quaker descendants of the Welsh in the suburbs of Philadelphia are abandoning vowels altogether:

Bryn Mawr College is announcing today that it is dropping the vowels from its name and questioning the use of vowels generally. The college will now be known as Brn Mwr. The move is being described as the first major initiative of the college’s new president, Kim Cassidy. A statement from Cassidy said: “This is the age of Twitter, every character counts. And really, what’s the difference, no one can pronounce our name anyway.” The college also announced plans for an academic conference related to the institution’s new skepticism of vowels. The conference is “The Hegemony of the Vowel: Incontinence and Lipogrammatics.” One of the planned sessions is “The Habermasian Response: Communicative Ir-Rationality?”

I am speechless (that’s with 3 e’s).

Did Jesus Die So We Could Eat German Chocolate Cake?

Do the every-square-inchers ever worry that making the gospel relevant to all of life may wind up depriving Christ’s work of its true significance? Bethany Jenkins is starting a series on the theology of dessert for the allies of the gospel (thanks to our southern correspondent). Weight gain is certainly a new way to put meaning in every square inch. Jenkins sees a lot of material with which to make analogies and so writes about milk and honey (but not baklava):

As we contemplate the eschatological reality of our future home in the presence of Christ, God once again turns our attention to desserts. First, he repeatedly tells our forefathers that Canaan will be “a land flowing with milk and honey,” combining milk (a rare and precious commodity in an era without refrigeration) with honey (the chief of desserts). Second, in Revelation, instead of finding a tree with forbidden fruit in a garden, John finds “the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month.” Its leaves are “for the healing of nations” (Rev. 22:2), which fulfills the prophecy spoken by Ezekiel (Ezek. 47:12).

And this during Lent! What needless temptation to the church calendar followers.

Jenkin’s observations might be clever in a literature class, but is this the way the Allies want to handle Scripture? Apparently, the price of discovering ordinary matters in the Bible is worth the benefits that come with showing the gospel’s relevance. According to Collin Hansen:

This week’s series on how pastry chefs integrate their faith and work emerged from our editorial staff’s concerns about the narrow range of questions we typically ask ourselves as we apply our belief in Jesus Christ to everyday tasks. As Bethany Jenkins, our director of Every Square Inch, explored all the ethical issues facing the men and women who bake our cakes, we were amazed by the far-reaching implications of the gospel. You may not agree with every conclusion, but we’re hopeful the series will provoke you to think carefully about the costs and opportunities of discipleship, whether you’re baking cinnamon rolls for your children or arranging an elaborate dessert for display only.

Some believers may be amazed, but others along with any number of unbelievers are dumbfounded by the lack of seriousness implicit in such spiritualizing. Back in 2000 during the days when George W. Bush was running for his first term and securing the backing of evangelical Protestants, the editors at The New Republic quipped:

‘In God We Trust’ is on all our coins, but the ubiquity of the affirmation has not led to any sharpening of the soul or the moral sense. Instead, God is dropped into parking meters and vending machines throughout the land.

Will this series on the theology of ganache help to advance a better understanding or more gratefulness for the work of Christ? Or will it simply be an excuse to use the gospel to be clever? Galling indeed.