Jacques Ellul saw technique as ‘the totality of methods rationally arrived at and having absolute efficiency (for a given stage of development) in every field of human activity.’* So what is our stance: embrace, or avoid? One article concludes,
“Neither of these two options — wholeheartedly embracing the technological imperative or shunning it with anti-civilizational escapism à la Rousseau — is a fitting response to the warning of The Technological Society. We ought instead to take Ellul’s book, placed in the context of his larger work, as an appeal to walk a middle path between unrestrained technophilia and reactionary technophobia, a path we see only if we refocus on human ends, which are familial, communal, political, and ecclesial. This requires that we are willing to admit that among our vast array of technical means many fail to serve us well, that progress on this path has often little to do with innovation, and that control over our means is not simply given but something we must struggle for by confronting them with these higher than technical ends.”
from Merton, The Wisdom of the Desert
A brother asked one of the elders: What good thing shall I do, and thereby live? The old man replied: God alone knows what is good. It is said that someone inquired of Abbot Nisteros the Great , the friend of Abbot Anthony, asking: what good work shall I do? and he replied,, “Not all works are alike. Scripture says that Abraham was hospitable and God was with him. Elijah loved solitary prayer, and God was with him. David was humble, and God was with him. Therefore, whatever you see your soul desire according to God, do that thing, and you shall keep your heart safe.”
Love this statement by Tim Keel —
“people call and they want our doctrinal statement and I refuse to give one out. You know why? Because it is shorthand. It says, Oh, that’s the kind of community you are. And people in our culture today shop church. In other words, we’re so concerned with orthodoxy [right belief] that we don’t care about orthopraxy [right practice]. And there’s a way of being a Christian that I think is destructive: you can have all the right beliefs in your head, you can have all the right information, but if your life is shaped by twenty-first-century American materialism and the church becomes one more thing that you consume, then what the hell does it matter what you believe if there’s no community that shapes your salvation? And so I tell people, come to our church, spend six months with us, and then you tell us what we believe.
“Dallas Willard has this great quote where he says that doctrinal statements are prepared by people who are worried about something. So what if I’m not worried about anything? Not that there aren’t things to worry about, but I trust in Christ’s presence and the Spirit’s animating life in the context of our community. I think you would find that we hold to a generous orthodoxy and that everybody can affirm the Apostle’s Creed. All these theological traditions are wonderful, but were each born in a context. And what if we felt like we are finding ourselves in a new context – a really new place – that might birth a tradition?”
Every few years I go back to this post and reflect on these things from other angles. Today I’m thinking about the superficiality of the very popular NCD diagnostics for church health. But I’m also thinking about systems of exclusion and scape-goating, leadership that defines itself by fear, and the book I’m working on — and how some people value safety in a system, while others value novelty. As complex conditions arise we need to be more connected to one another, at the same time as we become more adaptable.
Attachment, Differentiation and Love
In a section in his book on the Trinity and ministry titled “Our Need for Relational Wholeness,” Stephen Seamands writes about the journey toward wholeness. He asks, “How do relational problems manifest?” and then quotes Stephen Stratton in his article, “Trinity, Attachment and Love” (Catalyst 29, April, 2003). Stratton relates some things that are helpfully connected:
“contemporary Trinitarian theology’s understanding of personhood with attachment theory; the psychological and neurobiological study of human relating. Similar to the Trinitarian concept of being-in-relationship, attachment theory considers the dynamic balance of selves-in-relationship, without overemphasizing self or relations. Like the persons of the Trinity, human selves in proper relationships, rooted in love and characterized by dynamic interdependence, are never separate from one another nor subsumed by one another.
“However, because we typically operate out of fear and self-protection rather than love, attachment theory sees us falling into two unhealthy relational styles. The first finds its security in an overemphasis on relationships. Those who use this strategy [even unaware] often cling to sources of security and demand responsiveness, especially in times of distress. The second finds its security in separation from others. Those who adhere to this strategy are often counter-relational and may over invest themselves in what must be done around them, particularly in difficult times. Instead of living in a place of secure attachment, our self-protective efforts rooted in fear drive us toward preoccupation with attachment or avoidance of attachment. In Miroslav Volf’s words, we tend toward either unhealthy “embrace” or unhealthy “exclusion.” Seamands, 41. Read the rest of this entry »
IVP has released volume 1 and 2 in this series, volume 1 edited by Colin Brown, and volume 2 by Steve Wilkens and Alan Padgett.
I spent a couple of hours perusing volume 1 on Sunday evening. From Socrates and the Sophists to Kant, from Augustine to Aquinas and the Reformers, Brown traces the turbulent, fascinating story of the thinkers, ideas and movements that have shaped our intellectual landscape. Here is the detail:
PART I: PHILOSOPHY IN THE ANCIENT WORLD
1. Socrates and Pre-Socratic Philosophy
2. Plato’s Vision of Reality
3. Aristotle and the Physical World
4. Epicureans, Stoics, Skeptics and Cynics
5. From Greeks to Gospel
PART II: FROM CHURCH FATHERS TO MEDIEVAL SCHOLASTICS
6. Philosophy and the Church Fathers
7. Early Medieval Philosophy
8. Aquinas and Later Medieval Philosophy
PART III: FROM THE REFORMATION TO THE AGE OF ENLIGHTENMENT
9. Philosophy and the Reformers
10. Old Questions and New Crises
11. The Age of Rationalism
12. Rational Religion and the Era of Deism
13. The Rise of British Empiricism
14. The Skeptical Empiricism of Hume
15. Scottish Common Sense and Early American Philosophy
16. Enlightenment and Skepticism in France
17. Enlightenment and Skepticism in Germany
18. Retrospect and Prospect
Anyone with exposure to this history has their favorites. It didn’t take me long to locate Duns Scotus as well as Pascal. In the process I learned a few new things about Thomas Aquinas. I also read the entirety of chapter 14 to get a better sense of Empiricism, with a particular interest in the thought of Locke.
A very rich source for discussion – I’m sure it will be well received as a new text!
Link to IVP
From Comment, a look at Cohen’s Old Ideas. Chris Cuthill writes,
“We often use the word “journey” when we refer to Lent, because Lent is a decidedly non-linear season for the church. We like to think of journeys as linear things, getting from point A to point B, going somewhere. But Lent isn’t about going somewhere. Lent is a time-out for the church—a season in which the church as a whole enters into an extended retreat.
“Every year I choose a piece of art, music, or literature to frame my personal rambling journey. This year I spent some Lenten time with Leonard Cohen and his new album of Old Ideas. This album, Cohen’s swan song, is about waiting for death, a decidedly Lenten theme. At 77, Cohen seems to have developed an elegiac acceptance of his physical and moral frailty. He stares into the abyss and patiently waits for a home without sorrows or burdens…”
An excerpt from Broken Futures, chapter 5 (unpublished)
It took many years for Israel in Egypt to realize that their lives had become unmanageable. And then came the transition to the Promised Land. That went well, right?
Well, sort of. It took just a few days for Israel to get out of Egypt. It took forty years to get Egypt out of Israel. It wasn’t possible to skip that part. Transition is a process of disembedding and unlearning. It’s painful and uncomfortable; but it’s preparation to enter the unimaginable world.
On one side, we let go of habits and values and patterns of action that are familiar and understood. These practices and values were not theoretical: they anchored our lives and gave them stability. Until we are well into the letting go process we rarely realize just what is required of us. It feels intensely vulnerable.
On the other side, we pick up something new, or rediscover something we almost lost. We re-enter the narratives and traditions that anchor our lives in Christ. The Exodus story suddenly becomes our story; it becomes a personal narrative of transition, disembedding and remembering. Entering the traditions of our faith helps us reconnect not just with God but with our faith community. Tradition becomes personal experience. The recovery of hours of prayer and of traditional practices of silence and reflection is not incidental to our time: it is a living movement to reconnect with God that is necessitated by liminal conditions.
“Generals lose new wars because they are still fighting old battles.” CBC, Ideas
In long periods of cultural stability, organizations establish very particular roles and methods and ways of being.
It was 1981, and the engine in my 1965 Chev was burning oil. I decided I would do the minimal work and replace the rings, retool the valves and valve seats: a top-end job. I drove the car into my father’s garage and used his trusty chain hoist to lift the eight cylinder motor off the mounts. At the time I had no idea that the smooth running chain hoist had an unusual pedigree.
WWI was a nasty, brutal affair. It was a trench war, a defensive war, with fixed lines and little movement for years. There were many hard lessons, and after the war the French responded with the Maginot line: a series of concrete fortifications built into the high ground along its border with Switzerland, Germany and Luxembourg. The line did not extend to the channel because of the French desire to avoid offending neutral Belgium. The Maginot line was an engineering feat: layers of underground bunkers connected by underground tunnels. At the peak were large guns facing toward Germany. Power was provided by underground diesels. The network included recreation facilities, a library, even a hospital and movie theatre.
The Maginot line was a response to a known problem: how to stop a sudden attack from Germany. The eventual success of the static combat of WWI conditioned the response. Along came a small man named Hitler. From the start, he rewrote the rules. Hitler believed the key to success was shock and awe. He tooled a fast moving army and invented the lightning war. When the Generals encountered the fixed fortifications of the Maginot line, they simply went north around the obstacle.
Not long after the war, around 1953, a Canadian Corporal was stationed in France and touring the French countryside on a weekend. He and a friend had driven to one of the access points for the Maginot line. The Corporal was a diesel mechanic, and he wanted to have a look at the powerplant that was two levels down. They descended two levels with the help of a flashlight. When they left they took with them a number of souvenirs, including a hardened steel chain hoist weighing about 65 pounds that my father used all his life.
Our successes often become a set-up for future failures, as happened to the French in 1939. Germany was in chaos and traditions and habits – good and bad – were discarded, opening new possibilities.
In stable times habits and roles come to be seen not as chosen or embedded in a certain culture but as the way things should be and should always be. For much of the twentieth century organizations in North America functioned within a stable, well managed, and relatively predictable environment. The assumptions of Modernity prevailed: by rational and technological means we could make and maintain our world. Our collective intelligence and know-how would help us attain the good life.
Since early in the last century, churches adopted the same way of seeing the world. This corporate form and imagination became embedded in our churches via the culture. Leadership roles and leadership functions developed in this context to fit the needs of congregations. Pastors and church leadership learned these roles and ways of being as the normal way to run an effective church, and churches rewarded workers who were effective in these roles.
Who had heard of “missional” church prior to 1998 (the publication by the GOCN)? Now “missional” is everywhere, and while some of it is just buzz, many have found fresh engagement. Sometimes we need new language in order to see. Similarly, the language of “place” recovers a lost imagination, one obscured in the legacy of Modernity where we traded “place” for “space,” the concrete for the abstract. Renewing our language helps us recover an ability to enter the texture, colors and rhythms of the places we dwell.
In 2014 I finished the introductory volume I began working on after finishing the long version. It is 80 pages and 12,000 words, with lots of full color images. I approached the subject with an aim to integration – to move beyond abstraction and words alone – and to appeal to both artistic and structural types. The book still leans to the academic side and will encourage rich theological reflection. And it’s cheap! Links —
“Len’s writing provokes thinking, stirs the imagination, and calls forth and nurtures one’s inner longings to put down roots, to invest in one’s home, neighbourhood, workplace, and city, and to join with others in welcoming and bearing witness to God’s presence and kingdom in our midst. A valuable contribution!”
Patrick Franklin, Assistant Professor of Theology and Ethics, Providence Theological Seminary.
Also available for Kindle. Download a sample here —
Back in 2009 Roger Helland I began talking about the integration of mission and spirituality: that these were never meant to be two parallel tracks, but a rhythm of life in discipleship. That book came out through IVP is around 240 pages, and is aimed at college and seminary students and others doing serious theological reflection. It’s long — and it left room for something shorter and more integrative — image based and with appeal to other learning styles.
In 2014 I finished the shorter, introductory volume. It is 80 pages and 12,000 words, with lots of full color images. I approached the subject with an aim to move beyond abstraction and words alone, and to appeal to both artistic and structural types. The book still leans to the academic side by virtue of many footnotes! And hopefully, also by continuing to encourage rich theological reflection. When I read it again this morning – after two years – I realized that I REALLY like this short volume. It’s pretty darn good! And it’s cheap! Links —
“If we are to avoid the legalisms associated with driven activism or the disobedience associated with wimpy passivism we will need to learn how to worship God in the fulness of life. This is no mean feat and in fact requires a serious reorientation from the prevailing evangelical spirituality of quiet times in quiet places. Len has gifted us with precisely such a reorientation in this book. I am grateful.” –Alan Hirsch
Also available for Kindle. Download a sample here —