To Men Who Style Themselves Chivalrous

To men who style themselves chivalrous, or somehow or other defenders of women, including the author of this post, in what are probably his better moments, if also his more prideful:

If the essence of chivalry ever really was in a darkened alleyway, walking home a mother, sister, friend, or lover, this is no longer the case.

Chesterton said that fairy tales describe what sane men do in mad worlds, and modern psychological novels describe what mad men do in sane worlds. We are the heroes of modern psychological novels, we are trapped in the setting of fairy tales, and there is no hope for us but in Christ. America is a mad world if there ever was one, and we, with our ability to presume false victory over our own impulses, are mad men. Our first duty is to guard our own hearts; if we don't do that, we can only do so much in guarding the hearts of culture.

Our first duty is to pray to God that we regain what is left of our sanity, to avoid losing our sanity to the surrounding psychology of the world. Only when we can begin to remove the planks in our souls can we proceed to remove the planks (and they are planks!) from the soul of our culture; this leaves us with nowhere to begin but prayer. A bunch of people with planks in their souls can do nothing to help each other without the grace of God. Once we've taken the vital step of acknowledging that we cannot do this on our own, we can move on to practicality, a step which I think we will all find remarkably simple, if somewhat uncertain.

As a first practical step I suggest that what we choose to think, what we choose to say, how we choose to conceive of women be guarded carefully, lest we give quarter to lust and concupiscence or anything else which dishonors. Any thought we have that so much as hints that a woman is lesser for being a woman, anytime we even remotely think of another human being as an object to be used, not a subject to be related to...we must take captive those thoughts and make them obedient to Christ. Furthermore we must cultivate a positive Love of all things in our hearts, so as to leave less and less room for these demons, be they personal or actual, to maneuver. And we must do this all without losing the spirit of prayer. Will this be hard? Yes. But virtue is our goal—avoiding sin isn't good enough to be called good.

The battlefield is no longer a darkened alleyway. This may be the case in special circumstances, but for most the bulk of the fight is spiritual, not physical, as much against oneself as against strange attackers. It is, and probably has been for awhile, in subjugating our passions to our spiritual needs, in subjugating our wills to those of Christ. If chivalry is really the middle ground that we have left between male chauvinism and the newer radical feminism, we cannot find it other than by following Christ, who, if chivalry is a virtue, was and is by virtue of that fact a chivalrous man.

Furthermore I suggest that if we are to take this positive meaning of the thing one called chivalry, and make it mean the defense of the honor or the rights of the other, that it is does extended to us as men and our honor. Indeed, in guarding our minds as men we guard our own honor as well as that of the other sex. At the same time there seems a special and qualitatively different mode of defense across the line of sex, but we must not pretend that only men are made to defend or that only women need defending from. But that is perhaps another conversation for another time.

Cynical Hope and the "O My Jesus" Prayer

While this reflection concerns (partially) a prayer that is a part of Roman Catholic tradition (little-t), the author considers the "O My Jesus" prayer to be worthy of meditation and reflection in its own right and invites all readers regardless of denomination to try and follow the trains of thought running on all the twisted tracks in his mind in this reflection.

It is said that when the Virgin Mary appeared at Fatima, she gave the children who were the visionaries a prayer that, for a Marian apparition, might seem strangely Christocentric (though if we Catholics are right about the purpose of Marian devotion, we shouldn't necessarily expect otherwise.) This prayer also, for an appearance more associated with conservative Catholicism, seems strangely universalist in its hope, even though it hardly advocates universalism. I suppose in that respect it resembles the Scripture.

O My Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of thy mercy.

I would advise anyone who thinks that sounds universalist to remember that the same tradition has Our Lady instructing us all to pray for the conversion of Russia, indicating that the leading of souls to heaven is, to say the least, far from complete.

I am in one sense a rather cynical Catholic; I find myself somewhat unsure that the world will be able to recognize the truths of Christianity and its ethos until it's too late not to go to hell in a hand-basket. On other hand I am believer and I walk by faith in Christ, the Sacraments, and Resurrection--and so even if the world is going to hell in a hand-basket, even if we're past that point of no return, there can be salvation for its people. Thank God. Perhaps if we pass that point of no return, as a society or as a world, it will shock a few more people into seeing the beauty of Christ. Sometimes I think people need to be nauseated by the Gospel--or perhaps by the radical absence thereof--before they realize something is wrong with a Gospel-less life. I'm not going to lie, I often feel like I ought to be trying harder at the whole "evangelism" thing.

O My Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of thy mercy.

At the same time, the world created by God is surely good, and I hope, sometimes against my senses, that it isn't actually going to hell in a hand-basket. That maybe society hasn't passed that point of no return. But I guess with all the wars, strange relativism and culture of death floating around it's sometimes hard to be optimistic. And yet I do try, in accordance with good Christian hope, to hope for the salvation of all, and not to despair too much. After all, the creation is still beautiful, even if sometimes its beauty is obscured by the sinfulness of man.

O My Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of thy mercy.

As we draw further on in a given society, there will be those who serve Christ and life, and those who serve the Enemy and death. Those attempting to be 'tolerant' or in the middle will need to pick a side. There is a strange connection here to the personal "last things," as we continually near our deaths. Let us hope that as many as possible will find themselves on the side of life and Love in the end, both in their personal end and the end of their respective societies, if they are around to see it.

If the Lord wills, I will be, in the end, worthy of the Resurrection.

O My Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fires of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those in most need of thy mercy.

In Which I Respond to John Meunier's Question

John Meunier has a good question up which I think is kind of a good one if we're at all trying to navigate the postmodern wilderness that is the world.

I invite anyone reading this to make their own response to my response, or to Meunier's question, here or on their own blog. (But if not here, please let me know where because I want to see it.) I of course invite the other KBT to respond with their own posts if they want.

[Later edit:] The question is "If you had the opportunity to preach to a crowd of nominal Christians or non-Christians in an informal setting – like John Wesley’s field preaching – what would you preach?"

Here's my response:

Ask yourself this question: "Am I good?" And if you answer yes, justify it. Without appealing to grace or any coherent and concrete concept of goodness that does not change with culture and goes beyond just what we think it is. 

If you justified yourself, you probably don't really believe in good at all, at least, not good with a meaningful meaning. Maybe you're good thinking that goodness is relative, something that's not inherent in anything, or something we have to make for ourselves, but I'm not. It's not meaningful meaning if we can change it as we please.

If you couldn't justify yourself, then I guess you'll need some help to be good. Christ can help you with that. Sorry state that I'm in, you should see what state I get into when I close myself off to Him. And if you're at all interested in being good, even if you already think you're justified on that front or that all I'm saying is twiddle-twaddle, you owe it to yourself to see what kind of change Christ might make in you. 

So really, just try and live like Him. Try and fall in love with Him, even if--right now--you don't know what you believe about Him. 

I think you'd be surprised to see the difference.

Bad Christians

In my view there are two ways to be a Christian.

(A) Be a bad Christian, and recognize and work to change it.
(B) Be a bad Christian, and deny it or downplay it.

I'm sure all of us do a little of (A) or (B) at some point in time.

I'm also pretty sure that (A) is the road to being like Christ, and (B) is the road to a complacent and dead spiritual life, if not, and we should hope not, an actual spiritual death.

Robinson on the Puritans and Economic Justice

Marilynne Robinson is a fairly solid cultural ally for consistently Christian conservatives as far as criticisms of modern cultural and 'scientific' excess. She's not a big fan of the overarching cultural narratives that seem to have developed in modern times. While I was reading her books of essays, The Death of Adam, I found a great resemblance between much of her mission, and the mission of the more conservative Catholics I have known, in terms of being truly faithful to one's faith tradition on all matters, including matters of economics.

Speaking first of the so-called Christian right and then of the supposedly hypercapitalist "Protestant work Ethic", Robinson says in the chapter on "Family:"

"My own sense of [the Scripture], based on more than cursory reading, is that the sin most insistently called abhorrent to God is the failure of generosity, the neglect of widow and orphan [...] I have heard pious people say, Well, you can't live by Jesus' teachings in this complex modern world. Fine, but then they might as well call themselves the Manichean Right or the Zoroastrian Right and not live by those teachings. If an economic imperative trumps a commandment of Jesus, they should just say so and drop these pretensions toward particular holiness [...] I know those who have taken a course in American history will think this merger of Christian pretensions and bullyboy economics has its origins in Calvinism and in Puritanism. [...] Go find a place where they are guilty of this vulgarization. Or [...] find a hundred or a thousand places where they denounce it, taking inspiration, always, from the Bible."

Elsewhere in this same chapter she bemoans the loss of the Sabbath to commerce and labor, and the inability of the lower classes to refuse an employer, among other things. There are definitely places where she differs from the Catholics, but she is very much an ally in terms of bringing back the Sacred. And one thing I think Catholics can and should get behind her on is people actually reading historical things they want to condemn, or at least, not thinking they know too much about them to read them--Robinson pretty rightly lists the entire Old Testament among these so-known-nobody-reads-it works. The way that this theme comes through here is in Robinson's exasperation that this sort of Capitalism gets assigned to the Puritans when, really, it is so not what they meant. Though her book focuses mostly on correcting our distortions of what Calvinistic strains of Christianity actually taught in their historical forms, she seems quite obviously an ally of the more truly conservative Catholics who would also very much like to recall traditions of economic justice and fair limits on enterprise--as opposed to just legislating on abortion and gay marriage.

Some Questions/Comments on that First YMY Post

I'd said some thing about my initial impressions of the book Yes Means Yes over in this here post.

In the comments below my friend Eric had left some interestings which I felt merited a post in response. If anyone else wants to chime in they may feel free to do so either in the original thread, or here. Eric's comments will be in bold, my responses will be in normal text.

Full disclosure, I feel that I owe some of my thought to correspondence with the friend who lent me YMY, much to correspondence with other people and Eric (outside of the comment I am responding to), and a bit to correspondence with the Catholic philosopher Alexander Pruss.

The logic of "consentual sex" is in no way something which can be applied to consenting to marriage.

I am not sure what you mean--do you mean we can't apply it to each act within marriage, or that we can't apply it to the consent one gives to be married in the first place? I disagree either way--a consent, an "I will," is important. Coercion, even if it was not forceful, would certainly cheapen the strength of that will, if not pervert it. "I do" does not indicate an "I will" for all future instances; the question is when in the future "I won't" is acceptable. I don't think you're advocating coercion or force, but certainly within the context of a relationship built on Love, neither ought to be allowed. And if a construction of consent helps to enforce that ban, I'm all for it.

First of all, consenting to marriage is about a union of lives. While modern Christians seem to obsess over the sexual ethics, with some theology of the body people going so far as to suggest that sex is the ultimate realization of the union of marriage, really it's not the main point.

With few exceptions (Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!) it's a pretty clear corollary of the Genesis definition of marriage, which seems to indicate a man and a woman becoming one flesh. A union of lives is certainly present but (again, rare exceptions) I'm not sure how that can not include the physical. I don't necessarily think you're trying to exclude the physical, but in terms of physical realizations, intercourse, aside from a man actually and literally laying down his life for his wife, does seem like it's pretty up there. There are of course other things.

Obsessing over sexual ethics obscures the reality of marriage, and applying the logic of "consentual sex" analogously to marriage adds fuel to the fire.

It's already been obscured. Everyone from Puritans and prudes to libertines and liberals have obscured it. Any husband who's ever beaten his wife or molested his children has obscured it. What the Catholic ethics people are attempting to do might add fuel to the fire. I don't care if it does. But if so their fire will be a cleansing fire, not a further obscurantist fire. I think the caution you've suggested already about not making sex the ultimate goal of marriage is a good one, especially given the counterexamples from the Church's Tradition. But for better or for worse, we live in a world where marriage has been obscured. If everything were clear, if everyone acted in the interest of Love, I think we could talk about an absorption of consent by Love in a similar vein to Wojtyla's talk of absorption of shame by Love--it's not that those things disappear or are not necessary, but that for a given relationship they no longer need to be discussed, at least not so directly, because both persons, acting in the interest of Love, will automatically practice them. If you in your marriage have reached that point, then I applaud that. Do I think some of the feminist movement and sexual ethicists have potential to do more damage in that area of obscuring, or even that they have? Yeah, but good Christian men who go home and do un-Christian things to their households have helped to create the reality that everyone has to wrestle with, which is that we're not yet at a point where Love can really be said to be absorbing anything.

Aside from the fact that agreeing to marriage is not the same thing as agreeing to use each other for pleasure, it should also be remembered that a married couple owes each other what's called the "marriage debt" which I'm sure would be horrifying to those who believe in "consentual sex" (though it should be remembered that men owe it to women as much as women to men).

I don't particularly like to use the language of debt with respect to sexuality. I do of course endorse the language of mutual ownership, but the fact remains the Love does not force. Paul's admonition on the subject--"do not deprive each other except by mutual consent for prayer and fasting" (not verbatim) seems to indicate that if there is that ideal, that if they're not setting aside a time for prayer and fasting, the marriage should indeed have a sex life. If a marriage has none, from a Catholic perspective, something is wrong. I agree; in that case something would be at the least seriously wrong. However, I don't think this justifies the use of coercion

You quote Cho as saying she has several times said yes to sex she actually didn't want to have.

For the record, I don't think that anyone, including Cho, really considers those instances of rape. When I read her testimony, I considered them to be instances of having sex for reasons that were at least less than ideal, if not actually wrong (either on her part and/or someone else's), and would have been less than ideal even if she'd been married.

Maybe by developing a more rigorous language of consent this could be somewhat limited, but if people are being asked to make this sort of decision on the spot the grey area is never going to go away.

A small emotional gray area (perhaps a small doubt of whether one wants to) can be taken along with an explicit willing for something to happen, as safely constituting consent in my book. The larger gray area is if coercion--verbal or alcoholic--is in any way present. So yeah, I'll agree that a small emotional gray is likely to be eliminated.

In fact, it is the sexual revolution that has created this grey area. When sex is restricted to marriage, there is no such "did she really want it... really?" type grey area.

I think we could easily imagine a scenario like Cho's more violent experience happening in a marital context. Doesn't mean it necessarily happens often, but it definitely doesn't close the question of whether a wife perpetually wants it, or perpetually wills it. It just might mean she's decided, oddly enough, to will something else, because it's less effort than going through with the deeper will, which is just "not tonight." And I think we could pretty easily imagine such a scenario having happened anytime in the middle ages just like it might happen today.

This will not go away unless sex outside of marriage on the whole is condemned. "Consentual sex" cannot solve this problem.

Agreed! But it's a necessary condition, not a sufficient condition. And in the meantime, until we have a cultural conversion with respect to sexuality, we're going to want to be able, if we can, to speak as Christians to less-than-Christian conditions. I definitely agree that until everyone is really asking themselves what Love requires--and until everyone has the proper understanding of what, at its basic level, that Love is--our problems, our sad necessity to even talk about what consent means (again, recall, in an ideal world, we wouldn't need to construct a meaning for it, because said need would be absorbed by person who relate to each other in Love)...Until we convert, until we are in a sort of societal sense, resurrected, it's not going to go away. I do condemn sex outside of marriage. But that doesn't mean I desire to see that sin compounded by other sins which are either qualitatively or quantitatively worse. It would be great if the old culture were be baptized and transformed into the new creation. But that's going to take time, and in the meantime, that old culture is going to need bandages.

It is in fact feminism and the sexual revolution which have in the first place made "date rape" and other such difficult middle grounds between consent and violent rape possible,

Great, but feminism didn't do that on its own. Coercion and un-Loving pressure are middle grounds that, while they don't necessarily constitute rape, were definitely there before. The question of date rape is a slightly different one to me, but I'm willing to bet that a number of other movements besides Feminism helped make it happen. Aside from whatever faulty teaching members of the Church--as opposed to the Church's teaching office--may have passed down, again we have the Puritans who, rightly or wrongly, are known for having overestimated the value of sexual shame, and the Libertines who are known for having done pretty much the opposite. I don't necessarily discount the idea that the feminist movement may have exacerbated some of the problems of society, or that said problems include complications relating to our idea of consent, of what it means to 'will' a sex act to happen.

and they will only go away when we reject feminism and the sexual revolution.

I am not ready to agree to this for all definitions of 'feminism,' but for all historically reasonable (that is, not deliberately redeemed by some Christian youth movement) meanings of 'sexual revolution' I would call this a necessary but not sufficient condition. We must invite God, to paraphrase an older Graham Kendrick tune: "Search [us], try [us], consume all our darkness." It's possible that somewhere along the line the Christian tradition began contributing to the confusion; certainly many of us in action, even if not in theory. That's part of the reason I think theory is important, why it's important to build a model of human sexuality that cautions us against coercion, even if it means re-phrasing (not re-interpreting, or mis-construing) our old ideas about what the Pauline injunction to regular physical unity actually means. I prefer to use less abusable language, language prone to--if anything--persuasion as opposed to coercion. I suspect the exact boundaries and lines that each couple must adhere to in order to respond to Love's demands will vary by the context of relationship, but as a general guideline I am more comfortable with the language of "should" than with the language of debt, and it is my belief that while either might be strictly compatible, one is much more likely to lead to bad practice--to moral untruth--than the other. I don't dispute that many couples take the phrasing of 'marriage debt' seriously and interpret it in a way which is not, in the context of their relationship, subject to abuse. And even a "should"--even a "debt," for that matter, has limits on proper method. At the risk of being overly subjective, something about a husband or a wife using the notion of a "debt" (or even a "should," but "should" seems less subject to this problem) doesn't strike me as a very resurrected situation for a marriage to be in. Neither does the notion of a celibate marriage, with few exceptions. It seems like the "should" might be more properly applied to what the two persons will in the first place, so that their wills in the matter move further and further in line with one another and so that neither ever tries--at least not badgeringly--to convince the other on the matter.* Let me be clear: I don't want to or will to excise the Pauline injunction from the Tradition. It can't be done. But I do not consider myself or any other Christian to be bound to the phrasing of "marriage debt," particularly, but not exclusively, due to the baggage it carries today and the abuse it has had over the years as a tool for abuse.

If we are Catholic, why should we draw or understanding of the proper ordering of gender within society from a bunch of largely atheist revolutionaries who have sought to destroy the norms of marriage, when the saints have already taught on the subject?

I'm not sure who precisely you're concerned about. My concern is to figure out where this movement might highlight moral truths that aren't--for whatever reason--talked about as much within the church. I have no desire to rewrite our narratives to match their goals. I do have a desire to see what the truth is in their results, and allow that truth to give further nuance to how I as a Christian construct my response to things, in particular my response to sexuality. But I guarantee you, I have no interest in rewriting the essential Christian narrative of sexuality and/or gender to include perspectives which aren't Christian. I have an interest in moral truth, no matter what its immediate source, and in seeing what the interaction is between that Truth, and our starting points. I have no interest in drawing my ultimate understanding of those things from anything other than an understanding of ourselves as creatures of God in light of the Resurrection.

And do the Saints discuss the subject of marital rape? Of childhood abuse? If so, those aren't exactly the popular or discussed passages. And if nobody's really putting it out there that the Saints have talked about this, and nobody's talking about what they've said, then (as far as me hearing what they've said goes) it doesn't do much to just say "the Saints have talked about this." This isn't just about gender and the basic meanings and contemplations of humans as sexual beings who are creatures of God. This is about how, building on that understanding, our specific conceptualizations of what a right relationship looks like influences our understanding of everything else. I guarantee you, in my mind, the feminist movement comes out substantially less than Good in the eyes of God. But that doesn't mean they haven't walked in shoes we've never walked in (female shoes, to start with) or experienced things we've never experienced (speaking only for myself without intending to imply anything about anyone else who gets involved in this conversation, I have never been abused)...and it doesn't mean--that feminists--even if they may have furthered the obfuscation of sexuality--have nothing valuable to say that can help us get out of the hole of obfuscation of sex that we've gotten into. Just like everyone else has nuances to contribute. Ultimately I do believe the constructions lending themselves most to proper service of Truth will come from the Catholic fold, and that the proper starting points are parts of the Catholic Truth that Christ preached and left to the early Church. That, by the way, goes for every area of life, including but not limited to human sexuality.

I see no reason, unless we are trying to impress the world by saying "don't worry, I'm not so crazy. I can be a feminist too." But why should we be trying to impress the world?

Hopefully, if we're trying to impress the world at all, it's by letting our light shine before it, so that it might see our good deeds and praise our Father in heaven. Don't get me wrong; I have problems with trying to be agreeable, and that's personal stuff that I need to work on for the sake of my relationship with God. It goes, by the way, with whoever I'm talking with, "conservative" or "liberal." But allow me to be very clear about this, lest anyone think otherwise:

I would gladly cast off any label other than Christian, and even that, if I felt it stood in the way of my commitment to Christ and to the Truth.

That said, nobody has yet applied the feminist label to me, and they're not likely to do so. I confess to erring on the side of dialog here (as I usually do), if I am indeed erring. Erring on the other side, however, might result in ignoring legitimate concerns of their movement, and that won't profit myself, the Church, or Christ at all, however, and it might do just the opposite; it might give credence to the view that Christianity that doesn't listen to those who are downtrodden and left-out. Some people are going to view us that way anyway, and that's their problem. But I'm going to do whatever is in my power to strip them of the stupid excuses they feel that 'religion' has given the to ignore it. Sometimes that duty will require me to speak up and correct, to declare what I believe is the wrongness of the world. Sometimes that duty requires me to listen.

My explicit statement in this matter of modern feminist thought, and in all others, is to claim a Catholic--not pre, post or simply modern, not Thomist or personalist, or anything else--Catholicism, in which I am hungry for the Eucharist, for Love, and for Truth and Justice, and with that as my banner and guide, spiritual home and philosophical home-base, to brave the postmodern wilderness and--if God can make me holy enough--help to convert that wilderness into something that looks more like the Kingdom of God.

* I see nothing prima facie wrong with the idea of persuasion on the part of either partner. The exact question of where coercion comes in is a good one, and I'm not sure a single line can be drawn that will be applicable to every individual marriage, because--as with many things--even the two persons and who they are will create a different context of relationship.

A Response to this Gulley Fellow

I got a tip on this from John Meunier. It's rewarding reading, because it's so wrong that the words I want to use are words a theology blog shouldn't use. It's forcing me to try and articulate why it's so wrong.

Readings of Scripture aside, I don't think I can square all the false implications he's made about the doctrine of original sin.

For starters, any Churches--the RCC I know for sure but I'd be willing to bet more than a few Protestant denominations--teach a kind of co-creation and co-operation of God and man that they see as being in perfect harmony with the notion of original sin. They might be wrong (I guess the Monergists might be right), but even if that be the case, they're still more biblically and historically Christian than this guy.

Apparently Gulley's never heard of all those joyous saints and philosophers whose belief in original sin combined with beautiful views of creation and God and humanity. Gulley's never read John or me, in our honest struggles to work out salvation in fear and trembling. If so, he should know better than this. But he doesn't know better. Most of this piece was crap, and most of the good advice can and has been acted on by persons who vehemently disagree with him. Maybe we're just too trapped in the unreasonable dogma of yesteryear to be enlightened like Gulley is. Maybe we're not the only dogmatists.

My Notes and Money-Quotes from Love and Responsibility

My notes and quotations as found in my little notebook, amended with page numbers where possible, and amended to include the most awesome quotation in the book. Page numbers are for the Ignatius edition which can be found here on Google Books.

TYPES OF LOVE (Romantic Context)

Love as Attraction

amor complacentia: "Attraction is of the essence of love and in some sense is indeed love, although love is not merely attraction." [page 76]

Love as Desire

amor concupiscentia: love as desire "You are a good for me", vs. [mere] desire (sensual) which can lead to use of the person to fill a lack [page 81]

Love as Goodwill

amor benevolentia[e]: desire for the greatest good for the person [page 83]

reciprocity: love is a "between" [page 85]

[QUOTATIONS FROM THE REST OF THE BOOK]

The Person and Love: The Education of Love

"There is no need to be dismayed if love sometimes follows tortuous ways. Grace has the power to make straight the paths of human love." [page 140]

The Pers[on and] Chastity: [The]Struct[ure] of Sin

"If I believe that A is good, and I do A, I act well even if A is really bad." [page 163]

"'Authenticity' of feeling is quite often inimical to truth in behavio[u]r." [page 163]

"...to which true love ought to be particularly attractive, because it creates a real opportunity for the will to immerse itself in the good." [page 166]

The Pers[on and] Chastity: [The] True Meaning of Chastity

"True chastity does not lead to disdain for the body or to disparagement of matrimony and the sexual life." [page 171]

The Pers[on and] Chastity: Shamelessness

"Man, alas, is not such a perfect being that the sight of the body of another person, especially a person of the other sex, can arouse in him merely a disinterested liking which develops into an innocent affection." [page 190]

The Pers[on and] Chastity: Self Control and Objectivization

"Above all, continence cannot be an end in itself." [page 197, 'above all' didn't appear in original notes.]

The Pers[on and] Chastity: Tenderness and Sensuality

"Every human being is a limited good, and for that reason capable of disinterestedness only within limits." [page 203]

Justice Towards the Creator: Vocation

[Brackets within brackets within quotes are things I've added to the quotations in this blog post to clarify how I read them at the time.]

"This attitude is primarily a function of the person: [...[whether they are]] married, celibate, or even virgin [...[is]] of secondary importance." [page 258]

Please feel free to react to these quotations if you please.

A Rant on Media, Scandal, Correction, and Reform

I'd been thinking for awhile that I really should say something about the recent scandals in the Church, and how they do or don't relate to the media, and how Catholics should correct the media and reform themselves...

Brother Charles says it all much more eloquently than I possibly could, and what he's written there gets my full endorsement, at least. Other relevant commentary, if anyone (especially anyone looking for good Catholic perspective on the issue) wants to know, Ross Douthat and John L. Allen are good on this one, even if I don't agree with all their conclusions, but in fairness some of the things I disagree with were written before all the...

Okay, time to get a little honest and ineloquent:

The Murphy case is such a screwed up ball of "Gah!" Don't wade in there unless you're willing to suffer lots of heartbreak. In the process your respect for Fr. Bertone (probably), Fr. Brundage (definitely) and even Archbishop Weakland (certainly) will grow, but your heart will break, and (if you're not already convinced) you will know why it is that I believe that there is that decent-sized kernel of truth to what the media is saying, that real reform is needed.

That said, stay away from Maureen Dowd or Sinead O'Connor. The latter especially ought to be strongly chastised for the spiritual irresponsibility of claiming to be a Catholic right as she urges her fellow Catholics to boycott...the sacraments. My reaction to such bafflegab is that it is, quite honestly, so devoid of a well-formed reason and conscience that the only sensible reaction is ajif del kesheg lerah grohak lah lafhul kufvea hacnel feveh zefihez ivanflihewef. Did that make sense? No? Still makes more sense than O'Connor's boycott (Dowd's "Nope" made marginally more sense than what I typed.)

I've got a list of articles and relevant commentary/source material going at my site, but I will eventually take what I find to be the most helpful from there and make a post here. I also won't be totally silent on the issue, but quite frankly I've felt a combination of "It's Holy Week" and "I don't feel qualified to blog about this yet" holding me back. (I did do some writing on a post last night that included some commentary on the issue, but it was more as a bullet-point than anything else.)

Anyone reading this who's Catholic (and anyone Protestant, probably) already knows this, but we in Papist-land could use your prayers right now. First for the victims, that they might heal and that the crimes committed might not keep them from Christ. Secondly for the hierarchy, that it would be filled with Truth-seekers who will change whatever needs changing about church processes. Benedict, if you trust the people who would know, is a good start.

And that, aside from the aforementioned links list and in-passing bullet-point commentary, is pretty much all I'm going to say on the issue, is that prayer is needed.

I hope everyone had a blessed Easter Weekend. I did, and I really sincerely hope everyone reading this did, too. Now the Feast begins, and it's longer than the fast. But just like Holy Week, it doesn't constitute a vacation from real problems in the Christian church and, specifically, the Catholic Church.

Week of Christian Unity, BONUS: Kevin Johnston

Kevin Johnston was one of the people I had bugged about writing a guest post or a post I could link to, for the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. From Kevin's blog Sola Nobilitas Virtus comes this post about unity of values that differ from the world's across organizational lines. Kevin offers some good insights about the things that ought to be uniting, rather than dividing us, especially with the state of the world as it is, but one of his off-hand observations is the one I will quote here:

Not that I am an overtly negative person, I simply am more of a fighter than a lover in many areas. That is why a topic of Christian Unity is such a foreign concept to me. Christianities come in all shapes and size, and many greatly despise others. Fitting them into one theme is not as easy as it might sound.

Hooray for bonus posts.

I Could Never be a Catholic Bishop

Ever wanted to be able to sit around calling yourself a member of the church--like, hypothetically, the Roman Catholic Church--in a way that increases your credit as a member of that church? But to do it while saying a bunch of things that immediately mark you out as someone who is--hypothetically, let's say you're a pro-abortion-rights Catholic--well, to say the least, not in line with said church, or its reason? Hello, Kathleen Kennedy Townsend.

I'm going to focus on a few gems:

"As Catholics, are we so laser focused on the issue of abortion that we are willing to join tea partiers and the like to bring down the health care form bill? And at the enormous expense of millions of Americans who suffer every day because they can't afford to get checkups, because they must choose bankruptcy in order to save the life of their loved one?" [in the next paragraph, she responds, "Not this Catholic."

In my forays into Catholic ethics, conversational and more formal, there's one thing I've learned about Townsend's church that she (and most of her family) seems bent on forgetting: You don't do evil so that good may result. In fact, the only time you even have a case for doing anything even resembling evil, is when the alternative is evil; you certainly can't justify doing or promoting an equal or greater evil that way. Townsend also claims:

"[I am] someone who was raised by a family absolutely committed to public service and to making sure that our nation provides health care to the least among us...[w]here is [the bishops'] passion for the families who need health care?" (Italics mine.) 

Ding ding ding! Guess what? The right to live and have health care and everything else is founded on the right to survive. And the bishops haven't compromised it one bit in my book; in fact, they seem to be one of the few groups in America that truly respects the implication that "Life implies Survival." For those of you playing at home, that means "~Survival implies ~Life." The weakest in this case doesn't mean people who are already alive. The Bishops also said, a few years back, that the moral measure of any society is how the weakest are faring. Who are the weakest? I'd suppose it might start with people who aren't capable of defending themselves.

Townsend's claim is made, we are told, on the basis of stuff like what the bill already provides for, and what the Nelson amendment would do.She knows normal people can't verify that evidence without learning a lot of legalese, and even if they could, knowing our lawmakers, the bill might change tomorrow to make their learning moot. She says "[t]he current Senate health care bill expressly prohibits federal funding of abortion", and says that if the Nelson amendment passed, "[e]ven if a woman used her own money to pay the premium for her health care plan in the exchange, she would not be able to access a plan that covered abortion care"). On that last point, apparently, health experts agree with her, but I'm still skeptical, because that caveat "in the exchange" seems to indicate that the plan might still be subsidizing the big A.

No doubt the prevalence of abortion in our country is tied with social sin; issues of morality are hardly ever without a social aspect. But doing evil that good may result is not good.

And as to the title of this post. I could never be an RCC bishop in America, because then I'd have to deal with idiots criticizing my every move, most of them on grounds that don't properly understand the traditions to which they so proudly claim to belong. If you think this post sounds like it was written by a grouchy person, imagine if he was trying to lead a flock that consistently follows the Kennedy mentality of "dissent first, understand later," calling him out repeatedly as being less Catholic (and, by intended implication less Christian) than they. I'm way too authoritarian in nature to be a bishop of anything, especially in the American RCC. I'd have a heart attack on day two of that job.

Liberation Theology: An Old Paper

Opening Comment: I decided to post one of my old papers here. I still agree with most of what is said. If I were to re-write this paper I would probably acknowledge more fully that I take the side of atonement theology, as a matter of orthodoxy (stripping Christian soteriology of the notion of atonement cannot, to my mind, be done), and that I believe liberation theology to be fundamentally more flawed than traditional atonement theology, particularly as regards the meaning of the Cross. While it is true that traditional atonement theory sometimes promotes the life of the world to come in such a way that denies the possibility of bringing any of that life into the world we have now, it is also true that liberation theology--in a much more dangerous fashion--continually runs the risk of turning the Crucifixion/Resurrection from something with a tangible and real ontological effect on the world, to something that serves more as a symbol of Jesus' solidarity with the oppressed. In other words, I believe that liberation theology runs the risk of marginalizing the Resurrection and treating it as more a symbol. The danger in my mind runs from there, to the fear that the Resurrection will go from being believed as having been a symbol from God, to being not believed as having been anything historical at all; at that point whatever the Resurrection actually did for us as people (which I believe to be quite a lot) must be tossed away as well. But I should note that in saying all of this, I do not at all discount what I think to be the central Truth of liberation theology: The Kingdom is coming, not only in the future but also in the present, and this means change, especially for the petty small-k kingdoms we've got set up now. It is a Truth that traditional atonement theology runs the risk of forgetting, and while it is not as essential as Resurrection, it is vital for our witness to the world as Christians. My many thanks to the theology professor for whom I wrote this back in 2007; she really got me thinking about the issues and has been a major influence on my theological mind.

Liberation

In Christianity the life, death and resurrection of Christ are treated as central to the faith, but even within the bounds of orthodoxy as laid down by the councils there is much room for interpretation as to what, exactly, the Christ-event means for us today. In Christologies that are more traditional, often the same ones called “descending” Christologies, the emphasis in the Christ-event is placed on the notion of atonement, that our sins are in some mysterious way placated by God in Christ. In this sort of Christology atonement for personal sin is usually the predominant understanding of the Crucifixion. In many “ascending” Christologies the emphasis is still on atonement; however in a more recent strain of ascending Christologies, that of liberation theology, the emphasis is more on Christ’s solidarity with the poor and the understanding of the Crucifixion changes at least inasmuch as it includes an understanding that Jesus dies in his solidarity with the poor.

This essay will first examine the archetypal interpretation of the life, death and resurrection of Christ from the perspective of liberation theology and then discuss what these understandings can contribute to more atonement-based Christologies. I do not believe every aspect of liberation theology and atonement theology to be compatible. I maintain that the understanding of the life of Jesus, of the Cross, and of Resurrection in liberation theology has something to contribute to more traditional or Anselmian understandings of the Christ-event. The essay will conclude with remarks on how these contributions shape our understanding of what it means to live as a Christian in the world.

One major notion in liberation theology is that the mission and identity of Jesus is very much tied respectively with the critique of social structures and with the poor. Jesus’ identification with the poor. Edward Schillebeeckx makes note of the fact that in the New Testament accounts of Jesus’ life we find the theme that Jesus is in fact a prophet; not merely a prophet, but still a prophet in the tradition of Moses (Schillebeeckx Reader 166). The prophets of the Jewish tradition are known for speaking out against all the sins of the people, most notably their infidelity towards God and their poor treatment of the weakest among them (see Juan Luis Segundo 78-79. Jesus is connected to a prophetic tradition that is critical (in the sense of critique, not the sense of negativity) of the social structures that surround it. In his synopsis of the life of Jesus, James Cone discusses how from the beginning—even from his birth—his messiahship is tied in with his identification with the poor and oppressed (Cone 114-15). Jesus’ refusal of Satan’s temptation in the desert signifies “his refusal to identify himself with any of the available modes of oppressive or self-glorifying power” (Cone 115). According to him, the Markan saying “the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe the Gospel” (Mark 1.14-15, qtd. in Cone) speaks to the powers that be in the world, telling them that the kingdom of God is coming and that their reign is over, and Cone maintains that this has implications for all those in power, even implications for what it means if they even are rich (Cone, 116-17).

Chung Hyun Kyung, also, speaks of Jesus’ ministry to the oppressed, particularly Asian women. She sees the image of Jesus as the “suffering servant” as a double-edged sword; while on the one hand Jesus’ suffering can be misinterpreted with the message of blind obedience to authority, on the other hand Jesus is there and can be thought of as in identity with Asian women in his suffering (Kyung 56-57). Jon Sobrino looks at the mission of Jesus as “the proclamation and inauguration of the Reign of God in behalf of the poor and outcast” (Sobrino 453) and talks about how Jesus’ attitude towards sin includes a command to those with power and money to reconcile themselves to the Reign of God and avoid oppression of others (Sobrino 454). For Sobrino, then, the mission of Jesus on earth has significant implications for all social structures that it touches. It is clear that liberation theology ties Jesus’ life and mission to his identification with the poor and oppressed, the notion that his mission includes at the very least a component of speaking truth to power. Indeed, it is often the case that in liberation theology Jesus’ primary or more direct mission is considered to be liberation of humanity from oppressive social structures.

The meaning of Jesus’ death on the Cross and his resurrection from death, in liberation theology, is similarly tied with his identification with and mission to the poor. Segundo writes that Jesus’ fate is, in the New Testament Gospel tradition, connected to the treatment of prophets like Elijah and Jeremiah, and that those prophets’ teachings and revelations from God were in their own context intertwined with political matters (Segundo 79). Segundo speaks of the fact that the official cause of Jesus’ death on the cross was his status as a political agitator and notes that the conspiracies against him by the Pharisees and other political powers in the Gospels are motivated primarily by his ‘agitation’ of their social structure (Segundo 74,76-77). Choi Man Ja, responding to concerns echoed by Kyung about the potential for misuse of suffering, syas that “Jesus endures the yoke of the cross against the evil powers of this patriarchal world. This obedience is different from simple submission” (Man Ja, qtd. in Kyung 57). For Cone the death of Jesus on the Cross is, along with his resurrection, “the consummation of his earthly ministry with the poor” (Cone 117). In dying on the Cross, Jesus puts himself in solidarity with the poor and “[takes] upon himself the totality of human oppression” (Cone 119). The resurrection indicates that oppression and social sin cannot defeat God but rather that God conquers it and transforms it (Cone 118). The resurrection means that death no longer “has the last word,” and so the oppressed are able to live free from the threats of the earthly powers that be (Cone 118). The resurrection in liberation theology says that oppressive systems cannot keep Jesus down—they can try, but Jesus, and by association those oppressed by the system, will rise up again to press for liberation. The emphasis is not on the atoning aspect of the death and resurrection of Christ but rather on the identification of Jesus with the poor, even on pain of death, and the hope contained in the resurrection for liberation from bad earthly systems.

What does this mean for a more “traditional” or atonement-based theology? The atonement theory of theology places high emphasis on personal sin and salvation and a lesser emphasis (sometimes none at all) on the implications of Christ’s coming for the social structures of the world. And liberation theology places a higher emphasis on liberation from social sins than on those sins often considered more personal. In each camp of theology there is often a tendency toward reduction of Jesus’ mission and message to the personal-atonement or social-liberation route, and it is true that there is some tension between the two. However, as Lisa Sowle Cahill notes, “[p]erhaps the reason Christianity has an authoritative scripture…rather than…systematic theology, is that scripture…better conveys the mystery of God…[challenging believers] to live and think within its creative tensions” (Cahill 208). Since Jesus is a mystery it ought to be said that neither liberation nor atonement theology should ignore its counterpart but rather that each should look for ways in which the understandings of the other could enhance its own understanding of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection. As Sobrino says, “part of the responsibility of current Christology will be to show how all of the plural salvations converge in the Reign of God” (453).

The question for more traditional atonement theologies, then, must be where liberation theology reveals faults in its dealings with suffering and oppression and how liberation theology can help to shape a new theology of atonement that takes seriously the social-liberation meaning of Jesus’ mission.

Cahill points us to what is perhaps the chief negative effect of the Anselmian strain of atonement theology when she speaks of its potential to “[find] the cause of human suffering in the sin of those who suffer” (Cahill 204). This is a valid concern and it must be dealt with when we form our notion of what atonement means. In Cone’s thought, when Jesus dies on the cross he takes on “the totality of human oppression” (Cone 118). The cross, in liberation theology, symbolizes that God is suffering with the people. As a necessary corollary to delivering the people from personal sin Jesus must also deliver people from social sin and as such from the suffering that results from social sin. This does mean that on the cross Jesus’ identifies himself, to a slight degree, with the oppressor, insofar as his action ultimately proves redemptive for them, but Christ on the cross is identified even more so with the oppressed (a set of people that is not mutually exclusive with the oppressors!) The cause of human suffering, then, must be in some small part in the sin of those who suffer—oppressors suffer also, and cause suffering, but the oppressed also at times take a part in perpetuating the system (Cahill 204). But the image of Christ on the cross symbolizes that suffering under an unjust system is no more in line with the will of God than the often smaller sins committed by those in the poor and outcast class.

Another difficulty that arises when looking at how liberation theology can be integrated into atonement theology is the notion of mission. I maintain that the Christ event on earth was an effort to transform. That is, the sense in which Jesus was sent for our sins, in which Jesus was a sacrifice, was in the sense of his being a “living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God,” and showing the people (corporately and individually!) the way to “be transformed” (Romans 12.1-2, NRSV).1 Thus an atonement theory that takes seriously Jesus’ solidarity with the poor will say that Jesus comes to free people from both their individual sin and the surrounding social structures, which are not at all without overlap. Jesus as living sacrifice demands change and transformation from persons and from social structures. The poor are in many cases more than willing to accept Jesus’ assessment of their own lives, but those more well off more often than not are not so willing to change. As the political aspects of his message become a greater irritant, and the theological-moral aspects of his message become more annoying, the upper classes of Judaism2 and the Roman Empire see him as more of a threat; eventually everything comes to a head and Christ becomes a literal sacrifice for human sin. At this point it might be said that the sinful structures of the Empire and of Israel under the Empire believe they have put down Jesus; we do not know, theologically speaking, whether the dark spiritual forces that exist knew about the resurrection, so we do not know if they thought they had won. But Jesus’ resurrection meant that not only he, but also the poor with whom he was in solidarity, could not be kept down. On a theological level it could be said that the Crucifixion itself was the darkest manifestation of human sin—a rejection of the Son of God based on his political agitation and his demand that humanity, including human structures, live in a fashion fully oriented towards God. The resurrection, then, gives hope. It means that sinful structures have not defeated the Love of God; it means that sinful actions cannot put down the Son of God. Sin has been conquered. An atonement theology tempered with understandings of the Christ-event from a liberation theology perspective sees Jesus mission as multifaceted, unified by His desire to reconcile God to humanity; mission is to challenge sin in persons and in society, to love the unloved and embrace the outcasts, while challenging all of humanity (especially the “ruling class”) to do the same.

For the Christian today this means that to take up the cross and follow Christ cannot mean merely attending to one’s own spiritual affairs. It is of course imperative that we as Christians attend to our own personal salvation, including a good personal code of conduct, but this inextricably will include looking after the salvation of our the social structures around us from societal sin. If Jesus’ solidarity with the poor and his desire for a reorientation of humanity towards God were the cause of his death—and he freely accepted this death—we must accept that to be a disciple of Christ implies that we also put ourselves in solidarity with the poor and oppressed and challenge those structures which are deemed unjust. We are called to follow Jesus’ example here as elsewhere. In the frightening words of M. Shawn Copeland, “[Jesus’] mission…required [that he] do something bold: that he stake his whole life and very personhood on being absolutely directed toward God” (Copeland, 186). A liberation-tempered understanding of atonement calls us to “care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep [ourselves] unstained by the world” (James 1.27).

1 I realize I am appropriating a Pauline phrase that may not be appropriate. I am doing so in an attempt to talk about a sense in which Jesus might be a “sacrifice” without necessarily having been intended to be sacrificed as literally as happened.

2 Anti-Judaism is not here intended. I am thinking of the oppressive institutions extant within the culture of Judaism of Jesus’ day as identified in the Gospels.

Remarriage

I'd be lying if I said I really saw a case for it in the Scriptures.

Okay, that's a lie. I do see two explicit exceptions given. One is by Jesus, who defines adultery as divorce except for reason of unfaithfulness. If not for Paul's explicit exception for a marriage in which a believer has an unbelieving spouse (plus a bit more), I would be tempted to just think that all divorce/remarriage except for reasons of prior adultery would itself be adultery. But as it stands I really only see two possible, and Scriptural, exceptions to the mandate against divorce/remarriage:

1. Prior adultery on the part of a spouse.
2. One of the partners in the marriage is a believer, the other is not, and the unbeliever does not wish to live with the believer.

As perhaps-harsh as it sounds I don't even really think I'm seeing an 'addiction' or 'abuse' clause in what I've read. I'm well aware that many Christians throughout the ages, including one or two early Church Fathers, have found more exceptions than I. The simple 'plain interpretation' of the text doesn't seem to me to line up with almost anything I've ever seen any Christian or Christian church express (yes, including the RCC.) Is there a Scripture, or some other piece of the church historical or our hermeneutic as Christians, that I'm missing, here?

Please do discuss.

Difficulties on the Matter of Gay Marriage

It's a very difficult issue to decide upon. But ultimately what I had to do was go in and paint Christianity with the most Biblically liberalizing brush that I possibly could muster. And I really did. And I came up with two conclusions. One delighted me, insofar as it spoke to my sensibilities. The other was about as I expected, and unfortunately is unlikely to satisfy anyone on the other side of the fence from me.

There may be room, in a limited and highly chaste fashion, for gay/lesbian relationships. Certainly we cannot say that gays/lesbians should not befriend other gays and lesbians; this would be unreasonable. And I think even a friendship which carried some element of romance might be acceptable. It is to say the least not expressly forbidden in the Scriptures. But it would have to be highly chaste and without the near occasion to sin, because, well...Again, if we really want to be Biblically Christian, and we really want to give due credence to Tradition even in the historical sense...There is not room for homosexual sexual activity in the Christian Tradition. It is not there, and it is not there in a way which is mandated, and patently non-negotiable.

Does this sadden me? Yes. It does! It feels like homosexual relationships could very easily match every other part of even the most conservative Christian definitions of what love is, except that they be homosexual. Why then should consummation of these relationships be denied to them? Why should these people be deprived of being able to truly give themselves, mind, body, soul and spirit, to each other? The simplest, and hardest, and truest answer is that we honestly do not have a full answer. We submit because of God's truth as revealed in the Scriptures, in Tradition, in natural law. We don't necessarily submit because we like it.

Now of course it does comfort me—and it does comfort me—to know that if we take these things consistently, it's not as if the bedroom is suddenly a playground just for couples who are married and straight, but forbidden to couples who don't meet these qualifications. Indeed, nothing could be further from the truth. In the most consistent Christian traditions there are restrictions on everyone—it seems quite obvious to these traditions that when St. Paul said “everything is permissible,” he didn't mean it for the marriage bed. I suspect that when Christianity falls away from this sterner reasoning—which puts restrictions on us straight people, too—when we fall away from this sterner and more consistent reasoning, we fall away not only into a greater permissiveness, but also onto a shakier foundation for what we say on sexuality. It is possible that the greater the dichotomy becomes between what we permit for married couples and what we deny to unmarried couples, the less our basis lies in Scripture and Tradition (take this to be Catholic, or simply the history of Christianity), and the more we begin to seek shakier and shakier motivations for what we are saying. It may be that conservative, sola-Scriptura Protestantism, if it gets too far from the natural law tradition on human sexuality, runs the risk of becoming truly bigoted against homosexuals rather than morally opposed to homosexuality itself. So maybe this is some of what we sense, when we protest—“but if two people love each other...?”

But ultimately that is not the point. That is not the logic being put forth, really, by the tradition. Ultimately we are asking the question of what the way is that things were meant to be in terms of sexuality. This is a question that has profound significance for all persons—celibate, married, gay, straight, male, female, etc. Scripture and Tradition do seem to hold the answer for those of us who call ourselves Christians. I'm not claiming we have to like it. I am claiming that if we claim Christianity, it is a part of what we are choosing to believe. We do not have to understand it. We do not have to like it. But our sexual ethic is a part of our Tradition, and we are not free to excise it any more than a human body is free to bite off its own right arm, one painful piece at a time.

So That's One Sheep...

A theological story. I should note that this was conceived during a conversation with Mike Schmitz under the influence of a Chesterton conference and is not, is not, is not an attack on Calvinism. It is a story which attempts to use Calvinist doctrines, both older and newer, as a mode of exploration for other theological ideas. There has been one innovation, or renovation, made to the Calvinist doctrines, and this has been made so that I might avoid the story being an actual attack on Calvinism rather than an attack on something much more vile.

That said, though in some ways this story may attack, and some ways defend, Calvinism, it should be taken that it is largely neutral on the subject, or intended to be, while I am largely against the subject, but more in its content than in its intentions or reminders. If as the Catholics claim, Calvinism really is a sort of heresy, it has as much to teach us as any other heresy, and more than a good many of them. Here's the story. Comments are welcome.

So That's One Sheep...

There were once two Calvinists. Each knew his doctrine quite well—what it was at least, and between them they could get to it from the Scriptures. It happens that they attended the same church—Jerusalem Church, in a small nonexistent town in the northwest. In this town most persons found themselves Calvinists, Catholics, or Calvinists who really were Catholics (excepting their hope in the perseverance of the saints.)

Now we must note that the proper start of our tale is the day of judgment, on which the two were brought in to give accounts of themselves. They did not know why, but it seemed God's good pleasure that they be brought in together. The first stepped forward. He was sad, wasted; a piece of modern art composed entirely of skin and bones. He looked at once hopeless and repentant, and barely made eye contact with the Judge as he spoke. “Sir. It is with great regret that I inform you that I am almost certainly damned. I know what Your teaching is—that those who are not among the elect shall have no experiences of conversion, that they shall not be affected whatsoever by taking communion, or by their baptism.

“I know for a fact, then, that I am not among the elect, not among the predestinate. I have always felt rushes of emotion whenever old friends and family came to visit me, and always felt inflamed with passion when I saw the ugliest bee resting on the prettiest flowers. But I have never felt anything or had any experience in receiving the bread and juice, and sensed nothing at my baptism. And indeed, even when I came to believe that Jesus Christ was Lord of my Life, I...I felt nothing.

“If Your hands are not truly bound by these laws You laid down, I should ask you to have mercy on me, though I should certainly not deserve it and have no right to expect it.”

The Judge nodded somberly and then turned to face the other man, who had aged well. He looked peaceful, at least mostly, and well-dressed, the opposite in physical health of the other. The Judge motioned for the other Calvinist to speak. “Sir,” he said, “It is with joy that I can stand before you in the hope of rising again. Like the other man I know Your teachings. I can recall with what rush of joy I came to believe in Jesus Christ, and with what passion I found myself dunked in the river, three times in a row. I can recall how when I first took the bread and juice I felt not damned, but elect, and felt then and there assured that I would be a persevering saint, because I had realized I was a sinner.

“So I ask You, O Lord, to please have mercy on this sinner as well, though I also have no right to expect it and, certainly, do not deserve it.”

The Judge again nodded somberly, the same curious nod as before. He looked back and forth between the two and then made a motion with his fingers—what terrible fingers!--And in walked Gabriel.

Gabriel was many-winged, and quite incomprehensible to the two men. He was, as they knew, a messenger, to a poor woman who had been the container for the Lord, and now he was to be the most terrible messenger of all.

Gabriel looked at the two men, his many eyes making contact with each of them at once, disorienting them over and over as he spoke. He turned first to the well-aged man. “I have some bad news. The first is that you will not be entering Heaven—well, not right now, anyway. You see, you in your assured Elect-ness neglected to do much of anything at all for the church, except sing on the worship team from time to time, and serve communion once a month. This might seem like a lot, but how much time did you really spend seeking the Truth, and seeking to live it out on days besides Sundays, and in particular to bring the Truth to the poor and unfortunate among you? Pardon the potential pun, but who in hell do you think you are to avoid such tasks? Your Pastor did not use such lofty language, but he continually told you to search the Scriptures for the truth or falsity of his words, preached painfully from the Book of James about the persecuting rich, and was always exhorting the congregation to practice what was being preached. You did this to some degree, but you almost always neglected, neglected, neglected throughout the week to serve God in what you did. Or need I remind you of the countless female secretaries and coworkers whose backsides were carefully examined, or the countless homeless people outside of your office building who were not only ignored financially, but also ignored when they simply wanted to say 'good morning'? As you did unto the least of these!

“Yes, your sins are many, and like this other man's they should under a less merciful God disqualify you from entry into the Promised Land. But if anything disqualifies you it is the overarching sin, that you, ultimately, did not seek to love and serve the Lord.”

The Elect man gulped. “There is good news, however. Your queer group of people called Calvinists was quite wrong about Purgatory. It does exist. You see there is a special subclass of persons in the class of the Elect which God chooses, by His own good pleasure, to send to a special sub-heaven, above-hell sort of place where they will have to rely on the prayers and mercy of others—all predestined for their benefit, of course. And when their time there is complete they may join the other Elect in heaven. But their placement in this purgatory is, really, just for the further appreciation of those already in heaven of the fact that it was God's good pleasure to predestine them to be elect, and to serve God, not just to be Elect.”

Upon this note a trap-door opened underneath the Elect man, and he disappeared rather rapidly into it. Then Gabriel turned to face the damned man. “As for you...You are saved, though you are quite an idiot.”

The face of skin and bones brightened.

“You served the Lord your God with all the heart, soul and mind and strength you could possibly muster, though you believed He had condemned you to an eternity in hell. But you served anyway—you served the poor, you served the rich, you served businessmen who were trying to push past you to get a breakfast burrito at some city stand. You were there visiting Him in prison, handing him breakfast on the sidewalk, not by your own works but because from the beginning you were elect. You served them all as if they were The Lord, and served them well—you took the Pastor's mandate to love literally (the best sort of literalist). And so you have done well, good and faithful servant. Would you like to know how many souls you seem to have helped along the way, in all? There were around three-hundred that you led more directly, and around thirty-thousand that you made straight paths into.

“As I said you were, however, an idiot. You somehow took this notion of conversion experience to mean conversion feeling. I fully admit that we up in heaven have been trying to get the message to Christians for years that they ought to stop talking about conversion experiences and start talking about conversion history, to avoid this nasty and awful overtone of emotion, but you still could've done your part, and realized that perhaps even though you felt nothing on taking communion, nothing on baptism, and nothing on realization that Jesus Christ was Lord, it was still a realization. That loving and serving the Lord day in and day out as you did, though you had no hope of Resurrection yourself, must have still meant that you were in some sense saved, in some sense converted—which as we of course know could not happen unless you were called. Therefore, unfortunately, you did propagate the untruth of the 'conversion experience' wherever you went even as you propagated the Truth of Christ, and propagate the untrue notion that you yourself were unsaved, though you were. But it seems it is God's good pleasure to strike this particular blemish out of you without the pain of being put into that special class of Elect to which the Elect man now belongs. Congratulations, and well done, good and faithful servant!”

“Thank you, s--” At this point a similar trap-door to that below the elect man sprung open, but it seemed that in this case the floor-boards had a spring, not a drop, below them, and the springing-board propelled the mess of skin and bones upward.

Gabriel turned to the Judge, exasperated. “I swear—well, I don't swear, but I do wonder, Father. Will they ever get it, really?”

Three Positions on Salvation

First let me thank Victor Reppert for the excellent link to the first explanation of Exclusivism, Inclusivism and Pluralism, the one with the questions I've used here. I should also thank Ben Schwarting for being the guy who wrote those excellent questions.

Warning: this is a large post. Please don't let that turn you off from reading it, but don't necessarily expect to finish it in one sitting.

The explanation is here, and features several interesting questions for each viewpoint. An alternative explanation of the topics being discussed can be found at Theological Studies. Both pages discuss the three basic positions on salvation as they pertain to Christianity.

If you don't want to hit any of those links (I'd recommend at least the first one; the second gives a better sense of where and how the theological/philosophical currents run) here's the basic rundown:

Exclusivism in a particular religion is the position that said religion's truth is superior to that of all others, and must be arrived at explicitly in order for 'salvation' (I use the word that is prevalent in Christian circles, thus it is quotation-marked, in recognition of the fact that transcendence or the successful seeking of Ultimate Reality is not thought of as 'salvation' in all religions) to take place.

Inclusivism is the position that said religion's truth is superior to that of all others, but does not have to be accepted explicitly in order for 'salvation' to take place.

Pluralism is the position that said religion is but one of many paths that are equal, or roughly equal, in terms of potential for 'salvation' and the successful seeking of an Ultimate Reality.

So a Christian exclusivist and inclusivist both believe that Jesus is a necessity for salvation; they disagree as to the exact mode of reception required on the part of an individual. A Christian pluralist believes that Jesus is not actually a necessity for salvation. Obviously, the beliefs and sentiments of particular individuals are a tad too fluid to fit neatly into these three categories, but they are helpful in providing a basic characterization of a given individual or religious group's stances.

So I will now attempt to answer the questions found on the first link for each viewpoint. Note that these questions assume we are working theologically, within Christianity; therefore they are discussed, well, with respect to Christ!

Exclusivism
For several years of my life I was in this camp, and so I will probably be second-most-faithful in answering questions about exclusivism. I hope that A. Scott takes the opportunity to answer these questions as well, and possibly let me know if I have misrepresented the Calvinist viewpoint at any turn.

1) What about those who have not heard the gospel of Christ?

The book of Romans says that all persons are without excuse for failing to give glory to God (1:20-21) and in my understanding, in exclusivist circles the common interpretation of this passage is that the truths necessary for salvation have all been made available to all men; logically it seems that this must extend to, at the very least, the truth of a savior who died for one's sins. I had a conversation once with an exclusivist who stipulated that for someone who had not heard explicitly of Christ to be saved, they would have to know that someone had died for them. And he seemed to believe the truth was self-evident.

Following that, the best answer is that God's justice is above our own, God's ways above our own; therefore, even if the answer is “they are damned,” it is not for us to question; there is a higher justice at work that we do not know.

2) What about those who have wanted to believe, longed for faith, greatly sought after God, and yet have never received the light, inward peace, or assurance of forgiveness?

I find the qualifier of inward peace kind of odd for Christianity. However, the 'light'--which I assume means the ability to believe—does pose an interesting question. The best answer I can give is that they ought to believe to the best of their ability.

Now for circles where a conversion experience is considered essential for someone to be considered 'saved,' the picture gets a little more complicated. In Calvinism or other circles accepting foreordination, one might simply have to answer that the person is not among the elect. Though I stress that election and the predestinate are by no means concepts exclusive to Calvinism, this response does still bring with it all the problems associated with Calvinism. In Methodism or other circles accepting free will, the answer may be a similarly awkward "well, I guess you're not saved, then," and brings all the equivalent problems for free-will standpoints.

Note that I would hold that if one's particular brand of exclusivism does not hold to necessity of a conversion experience or 'enlightening' experience, one is free to believe that a will to believe can stand in for belief even when one's ability to maintain a faith is severely limited.

3) Does the doctrine that ‘salvation is only possible through Jesus Christ’ stay consistent with the belief that God wants all to be saved?

Yes, absolutely. There is nothing inconsistent about these two beliefs held concurrently. There's not much of an answer to this question except to say that I don't really see where the supposed inconsistency is. The Great Commission, which tells us to go out and “make disciples of all nations” (Matthew 28:16-20, New American Bible, italics mine), seems the natural biblical countertext for such a claim of inconsistency.

4) Is it true that in the end times, God’s grace will triumph completely and all will come to a faith in Christ?

That's a good question, but I'm not sure if it's relevant to exclusivism alone. In terms of eschatology, especially if speaking as best I can on exclusivists' behalf, I am sort of forced to answer yes; it seems impossible for God to truly win in any manner even close to that described in the Revelation (yes, it's singular!), there's going to have to be a big reveal that Christ is truly God. This leaves us either to the askwardness of people coming to a knowledge of God when it is too late for them to be saved (a problem faced by most Christian soteriology, I would venture), or the awkwardness of having turned a faithful logical implication of Revelation into universal reconciliation. So this really creates problems for exclusivists and inclusivists alike.

5) Is it true that Christ must be acknowledged as Lord and Savior in this life, or otherwise those that don’t will be condemned to Hell? If yes, then how can you reconcile that with the biblical view of a God of love?

In traditional exclusivism, to say the least, it is my understanding that the answer for part (a) is yes. The answer for part (b) runs along the same lines as the answer to question 1, in particular the paragraph beginning with “Following that...”, with the addition that just as we do not know as well as God what justice means, we will not know as well as God what is meant by love.

Inclusivism
I will be able to answer these questions most effectively, as my current position is a somewhat exclusive inclusivism (though it is based in part on things not common to all exclusivists.)

1) What about those who do not cling to any faith? If they lead a good life, are they saved through the ‘unknown Christ’ as well?

See the answer to question two.

Regarding viewpoints not mine, I would find it difficult to conceive someone who I would not say is in any sense seeking the Ultimate Reality even though they are striving to live the 'good life.'

2) Where are the boundaries? What determines a religion that ‘saves’, and one which does not? Or should we just look at elements within each faith? If so, which elements?

For my personal view, these two questions are sort of the same, because I guess I don't place the definition of what it means to be an anonymous Christian on whether the person has been raised in the correct religion; rather I look at it in terms of the individual's faith. Have they accepted what of the truth has been revealed to them, or at least put themselves on the road to doing so? Are they truly seeking the truth, such that if missionaries (and I mean good missionaries, mind you) came, they would be open to the message? Leading a good life plays into things insofar as good works play into any Christian's salvation: they are to say the least a sign of the inner workings of the heart even from the perspective of faith alone; thus the individual in question might not lead a perfect life, and in certain respects (for not all the moral code of Christianity is equally intuitive) more excusable for a non-Christian than a Christian, much moreso a non-Christian who has not been exposed to the fullness of the Truth. So in my view, I suppose the thing depends primarily on openness to God. Now for those who "do not cling to any faith" as the question asks, it would work similarly, as a function of the openness of their hearts to God.

3) What is the importance of missionaries if people can be saved through other faiths?

The answer to this is twofold. First, the Great Commission commands that we make disciples of all nations. It seems to be a fairly clear commandment, and commandments from the Incarnate Logos are pretty hard to ignore. So that's the first response.

The second response comes from my personal reasoning on the matter. We have two options, A and B. (In both of these responses, since the question works on "if people can be saved through other faiths," I am assuming inclusivism.) In option A, Ted is saved in the afterlife because he meets whatever criterion he must meet under exclusivism, even though he does not believe explicitly in Jesus Christ. But his understanding of the truth, even his ability to live fully as intended by the Divine, is hindered in this life. In option B, Joe is saved in the afterlife because he meets explicit criterion that would satisfy even a staunch exclusivist (explicit acceptance of Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.) But in this case Ted has access, at least more ready access if not more access, to the fullness of truth and the full experience of the Divine. In other words, it's a case of earthly searching (however joyful it might be) and heavenly salvation versus earthly salvation and heavenly salvation. What is the greatest good for Ted?

Of course it's option B! If we can bring him Jesus now, we ought to do so!

There also may be persons who might not meet the inclusivist criteria for salvation and have never heard of Jesus. The role of a missionary in their lives might be so vital as to be used by God to change a soul's course from the path to hell to the path to heaven, in whole or even in part. In other words, missionaries still fill a massive need with respect to those souls that may not have been ultra-inclined to seek the Divine in the first place.

The importance of missionaries is to take the commandment of the Great Commission seriously, and bring people to Jesus, whether that means bringing them to Jesus sooner or bringing them to Jesus period.

Pluralism

This is easily going to be the hardest one for me to cover, as it's not a perspective I've ever really held, at least not in full and for very long. I kind of wish I could be one at times; I feel like it would make religion easier to embrace, in a sense.

1) What about faiths which have no place for a god, such as Advaitin Hinduism, or Therevada Buddhism – how do they lead to God?

All religions reflect the same Ultimate Reality; they simply reflect it differently. So there's no real difficulty in saying a given religion 'leads to God' because it's a reflection thereof. Therefore even in non-theistic religions or religions not including a personal God, there are still ideals set forth and paths to follow that lead the person closer to the Divine ethically, and more in tune with the Divine as it is expressed in themselves and others.

2) Is it possible to find salvation through something which is not true, even though it seems to satisfy its followers?

On this earth, it's not necessarily possible to find salvation proper on this earth, through things that are not true--but from a pluralist perspective it's not that it isn't true; it's just one more subjective interpretation of the same truth, a great Ineffability that we do not in this life know directly--even though some religions interpret it personally and others impersonally, it is still the same reality interpreted. Therefore in a sense all religions become true and all also become false; they all reflect the Truth, but they all reflect it falsely. So it is possible to find salvation through something which is not true; else we've gone straight from universal reconciliation to universal damnation (which I, speaking in these parentheses as a non-pluralist, would be forced to admit isn't totally unjust!). But this seems to eliminate part of the point of pluralism, which is to reconcile God's desire for salvation for all with the fact of many different religions and cultures, and many different individuals who seem to have no real control over the early formations of their religious beliefs.

3) Is a pluralist a Christian, or just a God-believer?

It depends on how you define Christian. Here I am working, as I have implied, from John Hick's idea of pluralism, which advocates in a sense the idea that all religions are simply cultural reflections of the same Ulimate Reality. So pluralist definitely believes in God, or at least in some Ultimate Reality that humanity is striving for. But the pluralist also believes that in their search, they themselves must follow Jesus--that the path for Christians is to take up one's cross and follow. So I would say a pluralist can indeed be a Christian, but only if their understanding of their religion includes following Jesus. Note that I am not claiming a pluralist is an orthodox Christian; I don't really buy that so much. But I do think there's a sense in which they can still be following Jesus.

4) Does the bible have any relevance to a pluralist? Is biblical truth only relevant for those who believe in that faith, and other faiths have other truths?

Everyone's truth is relevant to everyone's faith--we need to look at all the ways in which the Ultimate Reality is interpreted throughout the world and come to the best possible conclusions as to what the truest reflection ultimately is. (Pun intended.) It seems as though the basic truths that can be gathered this way are ethical; but what to do when the ethics of one faith run up against the ethics of another? I suppose the only real answer is to talk it out and try and figure out what is in the best interest of service to the Ultimate Reality, and argue for one's own faith only when one truly believes is in this best interest.

Conclusion
Whoohoo. That was a monster of a post. I know it took me like, three weeks since I've told some of you, maybe more like a month and a half, but there it is. Three questionnaires about sin and salvation answered from the perspectives of three different approaches in soteriology, to the best of my ability. All three have varying sub-perspectives, and I'm inviting the other people who might read this to comment and offer some ideas about what perspectives they take on the issue of salvation; I'm particularly interested in seeing people who consider themselves to fall into one of these camps and take a perspective different from the one I assumed when working from these camps; I am especially interested in other inclusivists who do not take inclusivism to be the same that I take it.