Tuesday, November 2, 2010

The Grace of Enmity

It is a human thing to feel the pain of sin as pain. It is a Christianly, and therefore fully, human thing to feel the pain of sin as sin. As a transgression against a holy God. As a grievous gallivant for our own glory. And as much as this quality of pain seems to singularly wrench tight the valves of grace, the inverse remains true. It is by the graceful direct ordinance of God himself that any man sees beyond momentary sensual consequences of his own sin into the canyon of the reality of depravity.

Genesis 3 is a hermeneutical playground for many a hermeneutist, historian, and theologian alike. Furthermore, even within Genesis 3, the curses distributed to the man and to the woman are often cited far more than the curse given to the serpent. Before the promissory element of the proto evangelium kicks in, Genesis 3:15a provides valuable theological insight into God’s initiative and responsibility for the wellbeing of his people. God says to the serpent, “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and her offspring.” (3:15a)

The first observation Geerhardus Vos makes about this text is that “The divine initiative [is] in the work of deliverance. The emphasis rests on the pronoun: God says ‘I will put enmity’. Here is not primarily an appeal to man but a divine promise. Nor does God merely instigate or promote enmity. He sovereignly puts it.”[1] God inspires Moses to write very explicitly on this point, that in response to the soiling of the image of God by the serpent, his first act of business is not to promise the end of the serpent, but to begin his redemption of the woman. If it were not for the sovereignty of God over the will of the woman, the text of Genesis thus far implies that the woman would have been given over to sin and the serpent completely. This is the strength of the proto evangelium! It marks the first redemptive-historical work against sin out of which the rest of the Old Testament flows and flowers into a strong messianic expectation.

Jesus declares his own perfect fulfillment of this theme in John 8:34-59, where he subverts the Jews’ appeal to an Abrahamic genealogy by revealing a determinative preceding genealogy, namely, a Satanic one. Here again, in a distant epoch of redemptive-history, the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent stand before one another. Jesus, as YHWH, recapitulates and affirms the climax and fulfillment of all that God had said in Genesis 1-3. He condemns the serpent and fulfills the enmity (Jn. 8:44; Gn. 3:15). He explicates the lying nature of Satan, and vindicates God’s words about the death of sin (Jn. 8:44; Gn. 2:17). And finally, he subverts the effects of sin by declaring to be the source of death-cancelling-life (Jn. 8:51; Gn. 3:19), converse to Adam's life-cancelling-death.

Many Old Testament scholars and liberal theologians look scoldingly on ancient eisegetical allegoricisms and christologisms imposed on the Old Testament by "evangelicals" (usually defined by its patronizer, for purely objective scholarly motives, no doubt), and so this “evangelium” language is for the most part seen as archaic and inutile for proper exegesis. It is quite obvious, however, how pervasively governing the theme of redemptive-history is, from Genesis 1 to Genesis 3:15a to John 8:34-49 to Revelation 21. There is not simply an eschatological promise of a redeemer who will exhaustively engage the problem of evil (although that is present), but an immanent and immediate act of redemption by God himself, as he steps in and protects Eve the way Adam should have in the first place. And the point of this focus on Genesis 3:15a is that from the very beginning, it is God who creates the enmity. It is God who says, “I will rescue my bride” (Eph. 5:25-26). It is God who stiff-arms the murderous malice of Satan and puts a hatred for evil in the heart of Eve and her seed. Even though Eve disobeyed and should, for all intents and purposes, have been given over to the lust of the flesh and condemned, she was still granted a righteous hatred for sin. Regardless of her flagrant disobedience, God still gave Eve a capacity to discern holiness.

The same is true for myself. Each day I gratify the desires of the flesh. Every moment my heart longs for the death and pleasure of disobedience. Yet because of the enmity which YHWH sovereignly "puts" in me, I have the ministry of sapiental provision. And by the blood of Christ, which was foreshadowed by the blood of the animal that God killed to cover Adam and Eve's nakedness, I can identify the righteousness of godly sorrow as an extension and fulfillment of Genesis 3:15a. I, with Adam and Eve, am not defined by the self-centered embarrassment of the naked and distorted image of God, but am defined by the perfect image of God as displayed in the second Adam (2 Cor. 4:4). Even in the darkest and most depraved moments of my Christian life when Satan seems to have won another soul with his craftiness, my conscience sanctifies me (1 Peter 3:16,21), and my sorrow identifies me with the glory of Christ (2 Cor. 5:2-4).



[1] Geerhardus Vos, Biblical Theology, (Edinburgh: The Banner of Truth, 1975), 42.

Monday, July 26, 2010

A Biblical Theology of Prostitution: The Condemnation of the "Righteous" through the Unrighteous

In order to properly understand the theme of prostitution in the story of scripture, one must first have a biblical understanding of sexuality, and therefore marriage. In Genesis 2:24, Adam indicatively states that marriage is a man’s reprioritization of his relationships in favor of his wife and by metonymy of sexual union, their oneness of flesh.[1] The semantic categories of two available words for prostitution in the Hebrew language allow for a differential definition of prostitution here. véd∂q is used to identify a temple prostitute who has sex with worshippers and exists as an object of liturgy, whereas hÎnÎz is used to identify any woman who has sex outside of marriage.[2] Although there is confusion and overlap between these two words in some of the major relevant passages (Tamar makes herself hÎnÎz, but is confused as véd∂q, and Jewish men use véd∂q, but are themselves called hÎnÎz in Hosea), a focus on hÎnÎz will be preferred. For the purpose of this paper, namely, to identify and explain how a theme that recurs in the Bible relates to the entire scriptural narrative, prostitution will be defined as the utilization of one’s ability to provide sexual union for purposes other than marital participation.

Genesis 38 is an example of this kind of prostitution. In a proper evaluation of this text, it would be inappropriate to assume any kind of Levitical or Deuteronomic understanding by the characters because of the historical setting and a proper understanding of progressive revelation. This is an isolated narrative within the larger story of Joseph, describing Judah’s interaction with his daughter-in-law Tamar, whom he had found and given as a wife for his firstborn son Er (v. 6). God killed Er for his textually ambiguous wickedness (v. 7) as well as his brother Onan for his unfaithfulness to his responsibility to impregnate Tamar so that she could provide children in Er’s name (v. 10). Because of this, Judah was responsible to provide Tamar with Shelah as a husband when he was of age, but due to the death of his own wife (v. 12), he never did (v. 14). Tamar then dressed as a prostitute and anonymously seduced Judah to sleep with her in order that she might have a child (v. 15-16). As a pledge that he would pay her a sheep for her prostitution, she demanded that he gives her his seal, an engraved stone, which was, as Kenneth A. Matthews paraphrases, Tamar “shrewdly requesting the undeniable evidence of Judah’s identity.”[3] (v. 18)

Three months later, her pregnancy became obvious, and because she was still technically pledged to marry Shelah, she was declared guilty of prostitution by the town elders and was ordered by Judah himself to be burned. This was an extreme response, even for a case of prostitution, for in the Code of Hammurapi, burning is only called for in cases of extreme religious or sexual transgression such as desecration or rape.[4] Her response to Judah was by means of revealing his seal to him (v. 25), which acted as an imperative to mentally recapitulate the entire prostitution narrative with himself as the one who had committed the greatest sin against his family, namely, sleeping with his daughter-in-law as an adulterous act against his own son. He then declares her more righteous than himself because of his reluctance to give her his son (v. 26). Gordan Wenham notes that the only cause for such a response and justificatory indicative was her concern to “perpetuate the family line, to produce descendants for Abraham.”[5] The point of this narrative is that this sinful prostitute who was declared worthy of being burned to death for her unfaithfulness was more righteous than the Jew who would be the forefather of the most powerful tribe in Israel, the forefather of David, and the forefather of Christ. Despite the obvious divine abhorrence of the act of prostitution, it is through this abhorrent act that a self-righteous Jewish man is shamed and declared unrighteous because of his actions and the line of the son of Jacob with the birth right is perpetuated. This narrative ends with a prostitute being declared righteous and a noble Jew condemning himself.

A second significant narrative in scripture that furthers the theme of prostitution begins in Joshua 2:1-21 and ends in 6:25. In this passage, we can appropriately assume a working knowledge of Levitical anti-prostitutional laws (such as ch. 18 forbidding all forms of sexual union outside of marriage, and ch. 21 creating a strong social divide between the priestly line and prostitutes for the sake of cultic purity) among the Israelites. This passage contains the narrative of Rahab’s interaction with the Israelite spies. To first help understand the purpose of Israel’s espionage, Trent C. Butler comments, “God used human spies. Why? The obvious answer would be that the spies should help develop military strategy. That is not the case…Rather, the biblical spies convince Israel that God can and will give the land to Israel.”[6]

Because of Rahab’s reputation as a prostitute, it would not have been conspicuous for two men to enter her house because of her profession.[7] Because she feared God due to his redemptive act in Egypt, she made a deal with the spies to hide them from the king in return for the sparing of the lives of her and her family when Israel conquered Jericho, which required her dsx (“covenant faithfulness”) to keep her family inside of her house. Rahab acted with a concern for the people of God and was therefore vindicated and justified into the people of God in the end. This is implicit in text of 6:25, for it states that she continued to live with them when the text was written, and it is explicit in Joshua and the author’s redundant declaration that Rahab and her family were not to be harmed (6:17, 22-23). One has textual warrant to assume that if it were not for Rahab’s act of faith, her condemnation would have been death by Israel’s sword (v. 21).

However, simply because this particular sub-narrative is concluded, the role of our theme should not be thought to have solidified quite yet, as it is braced thematically with chapter 7, the subsequent narrative. Directly after this story, the character named Achan is introduced. He fought for Israel, was married, had children, and possessed valuable livestock, all of which contributed to his honor and communal respect (v. 24). At Jericho, although he was commanded to devote all things to the Lord (6:18), he coveted and took things for himself (7:1), which resulted in the death of Israelite men, but more importantly the destruction of Israel’s morale (v. 5). As a result, Achan was stoned and burned (v. 25). This narrative functions juxtapositionally with the story of Rahab through its thematically parallelistic inversion. It is through the righteousness of Rahab’s concern for the victory of the people of God that the unrighteousness of Achan’s responsibility for their defeat at Ai is magnified. It is through the risk that Rahab took hiding the Israelite spies in her house that Achan’s risk of hiding the things he stole from the Lord in his tent is seen clearly. It is through a gentile prostitute’s salvation that a circumcised Jew’s condemnation is truly understood.

A third Old Testament passage that advances this theme of prostitution is Hosea 1:1-3. God calls Hosea to marry a prostitute as a prophetic speech-act, its illocutionary force being the explicit labeling of Israel as a prostitute, for God says, “land is guilty of the vilest prostitution in departing from the LORD.” (v. 2). The word used here is again hÎnÎz, meaning, very simply, fornication. Duane Garrett suggests that this book may be a Toranic/historical-theology of prostitution, because its imagery is very similar to passages in Exodus (34:15-16), Leviticus (17:7; 20:6), Numbers (15:39), and Deuteronomy (31:16), all of which exhort Israel not to commit idolatry via the metaphor of prostitution, the parallel being God’s covenant with Israel and a man’s covenant with his wife.[8] Unfortunately, King Ahaz, to whom Hosea ministers (1:1), sacrificed his own son to a false god, set up altars and burnt incense to false gods, and relied on the Assyrians for political aid, all of which defied the aforementioned verses. Hosea, through his prophetic marriage to the prostitute Gomer, revealed the whorish nature of the actions of the kingdom of Israel in regards to their covenant with God.

John 8:1-11 introduces the furtherance of this particular theme of prostitution in the story of scripture in the New Testament. The only in-text reference worthy to be made concerning the integrity of John 8:1-11 as an original Johannine manuscript is this: due to its grammatical and textual attributes, there is a consensus among biblical scholarship that this passage is non-Johannine, but as Merrill C. Tenney points out, “To say that it does not belong to the gospel is not identical with rejecting it as unhistorical…It may be accepted as historical truth.”[9]

This pericope begins with Jesus in the temple about to teach when the Pharisees bring an adulteress before him and ask him how they should respond to the Mosaic imperative to stone such a woman. The greek word used here is not po/rnh, the normal greek word used for a woman who sells sex for money, but rather moiceia, which strictly refers to the act of a married woman having sex with another man. Fortunately for exegetes and the development of the theme at hand, the law under which the Pharisees are condemning this woman remains bound by the semantic categories set forth to define prostitution in the beginning of this paper. This woman, although she may be accused of moiceia in the text, is really being accused of hÎnÎz in the context of the temple court.

N. T. Wright notes in his study of 2nd Temple Judaism that “sinners” were seen as second-class citizens on a national scale, second-class Jews on a cultic scale, and second-class humans on an eternal scale.[10] This harsh personal categorization was a product of intra-Judaio-cultic conflict between the Qumran community, Pharisees, Sadducees, and other small Jewish movements, each of them fighting for the right to theo-national exclusivity.[11] Although the value of communal purity can be traced back to Genesis, this type of ethical cleansing was a product of a self-righteous pursuit of a community that would stimulate the coming of their messiah-king who would rescue whichever group was in the right.[12]

This woman was a victim of this self-righteousness as a prostitute in her specific cultural system, which therefore naturally prompted the Pharisees to bring her to be judged in the temple. What is significant is that Jesus’ response to the Pharisees’ accusation interrogatively points out the second-classness of the Jews themselves (v. 7), rendering them unable to execute the terminal judgment.[13] Their very own sin as Pharisees was necessarily self-deceptively dualistic in that their accusation of the woman was a condemnation of their later self-admitted hypocrisy as well as their ultimate motivation, which was their intent to create an accusation against the Son of God himself, for v. 6 says, “They were testing him so that they might have grounds for accusing him.” Through this woman’s prostitution, their own prostitution was made vividly clear. Through their demand for divine condemnation to fall upon this prostitute, God himself condemned them. Through a prostitute’s sin that was sufficient to make her no better than a gentile in the eyes of the Pharisees, their Jewish heritage and so-called “obedience” was revealed to be an inutile and indeed false righteousness.

The conclusion of this narrative fragment explicitly perpetuates a biblical theology of prostitution through the prostitute’s redemption. Jesus says, “Woman, where are they? Did no one condemn you?” (v. 10). His vocative address with the word gunh is a primary restoration of personal dignity, as she would have been, because of her sin, addressed as pornh or kuwn, meaning whore or dog respectively.[14] To her confession that no one has condemned her, he invites her to participate in the true covenant community with his imperative statement, “Go and sin no more.” (v. 11).[15]

The final passage that carries this biblical theology of prostitution to its climax is Revelation 17:1-6. John sees the prostitute of Babylon as drunk on the blood of the saints. There is speculation as to who the historical referent of this prostitute actually is. Some, like Grant R. Osborne, believe that she represents Rome because of the parallel between the Babylonian captivity that initiated the second spiritual exodus under which Israel still believed herself to be under and the captivity-type submission they owed to the Roman government, who ruled the land of Israel.[16] A better parallel that would seem to be more consistent with 2nd temple Judaism, a context which must be taken into account if one is to attain a correct understanding of the eschatology of a 1st century Jewish cult, is to see Babylon as the one who persecuted the righteous remnant, which would therefore make the prostitute in Revelation whoever the main persecutor of the church was at John’s time, namely, the Jewish people. This interpretative paradigm of persecution works better than that of governing authority, because (1) John’s intention was to encourage those who were being persecuted, (2) the main persecutor at the time of John’s authorship in his realm of influence was still Jerusalem, although Rome was on the rise, (3) despite the fact that governmental authority was valuable to the Jews, even more valuable was their right and ability to exclusively worship God according to the Torah, which is revealed in the Maccabean and pseudo-Isaianic narratives, and (4) v. 5 borrows specific maternal-prostitution language from Hosea. The prostitute of Babylon has “Mother of Prostitutes” written on her forehead, and God calls to Israel, “Contend with your mother…let her put prostitution from her face.” (1:2), and “For the men themselves go apart with prostitutes…Though you, Israel, play the prostitute.” (4:14b, 15a).

An insistence upon this parallel demands that further lines be drawn here. In v. 4, we learn that “The woman was clothed with purple and scarlet” not unlike the royal robe that Achan hid in his tent, that she was “adorned with…precious stones” not unlike the stone seal that Judah gave to Tamar, and that she holds “in her hand a gold cup full of…the blood of the saints,” not unlike the third cup of the Passover representing the blood of the lamb which the Jews condemning the unnamed prostitute drank every year. Again the Jews persecute the righteous, and in so doing, explicitly wage of war against the climactic redemptive testimony of their very God through their prostitution to their own self-righteousness, and are therefore condemned. It is through the prostitution of the harlot of Babylon that the Jewish people are finally condemned, and the true people of God finally purified through martyrdom. God uses this disgraceful age-old sin to shame, condemn, justify, and glorify throughout the scriptural narrative, contributing to all major aspects of our salvific identity.

Some scholars, such as Raymond Ortlun, believe that we as the church should identify with the prostitute metaphor throughout scripture because of the sinful nature of humanity,[17] but this is inappropriate and indeed unbiblical application for the church. It is through a biblical theology of prostitution that the unfaithfulness of Israel is shown, but it is through a biblical theology of marriage, upon which a biblical theology of prostitution is founded, that the church is properly understood. The church is the bride of Christ (Eph. 5), and whose hope for purity, as John sees it in Revelation 17, is through her unwavering faithfulness to the new covenant in martyrdom and persecution.



[1] Raymond C. Ortlun Jr., Whoredom (ed. D. A. Carson; NSBT; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1996), 15.

[2] William Gesenius, A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (ed. and trans. Edward Robinson; 2nd ed.; London: Oxford, 1954), 275.

[3] Kenneth A. Matthews, Genesis 11:27-50:26 (ed. Linda L. Scott; NAC 1B; Nashville, Broadman and Holman, 2005), 720.

[4] Ibid., 723.

[5] Gordon J. Wenham, Genesis 16-50 (Ed. David A. Hubbard and Glenn W. Barker, Dallas: Word, 1994), 370.

[6] Trent C. Butler, Joshua (ed. David A. Hubbard and Glenn W. Barker; Word Biblical Commentary 7; Waco, Word Books, 1983), 35.

[7] Ibid., 31.

[8] Duane A. Garrett, Hosea, Joel (ed. Linda L. Scott; NAC 19A,Nashville, Broadman and Holman, 1997), 52.

[9] Merrill C. Tenney, John (ed. Frank E. Gaeblin; The Expositor’s Bible Commentary 9; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1981), 89.

[10] N. T. Wright, Jesus and the Victory of God (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1996), 264.

[11] Ibid., 266.

[12] Ibid., 260.

[13] Robert A. J. Gagnon, “Sexuality,” in Dictionary for the Theological Interpretation of the Bible (ed. Kevin J. Vanhoozer, et al; Grand Rapids: Baker, 2005), 743.

[14] Homer A. Kent Jr., Philippians (ed. Frank E. Gaeblin; The Expositor’s Bible Commentary 11; Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1981), 138.

[15] Wright, Jesus, 274.

[16] Grant R. Osborne, Revelation (ed. Moises Silva; BECNT; Grand Rapids: Baker, 2002), 609.

[17] Ortlun, Whoredom, 35.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Dust and Breath

God,

I am a prideful fool. I desire to be seen by men. My prayers are catered toward eloquence and enviable articulacy. I am self-centered and selfish. The governing narrative in my own consciousness is that which is constituted by my own consciousness and no more. It began with dust and will end with dust. Such is the dusty world I live in which you created. But dust was not made after the fall. Man was made from the earth as a part of your morally perfect will. I am a God-ordained accumulation of dust. Accumulated by your will and for your glory. These muscles are dust. This mind is dust. Even these thoughts are dust (Not so for their referents and antecedents, but the thoughts are dust just the same). And so, sitting here in this existence of dust, there is only one thing which saves me from a meaningless existence. There is only one thing which prevents me from being consumed by the muddy moisture of anti-theism and self-exaltation which fertilizes the earth of this world. It is my second constituent part. Breath. The breath of God is in me. Your breath is in me.

This is my confession: I can’t see past the dust. All I see is earth. I look in the mirror and see a suffocating corpse. Breathing, yet breathless. Help me to feel your breath again. Let my lungs inhale to your exhale. Let my heart beat with your blood. And let my dust not be the dust of animals or grass or mud (as the materialist sees it), but of you. Dust like you. Dust in your image. And so as a desperate compound of dust and breath, I cannot seem to find a balance. I want to be with your Spirit perfectly and dust-free! Or my dust prohibits me from even acknowledging my dualistic constituency.

I must now realize that it is not I who decides my constitution. It was you who decided when you made Adam. And in making Adam in your omniscience and sovereignty, so also you made me. And so I am, because of your eternal presence, eternally present with you in Genesis 1. But that is where my story ends. I do not proceed into Genesis 3:6. I do not eat the fruit. I do not inherit the curse. Day after seemingly godless day, I believe the lie and seek after a selfish and (self-deceivingly unbeknownst to me) pejorative knowledge of good and evil. But I do not inherit eternal damnation. Rather, my story finds its continuation in Romans 5. In Adam first for death, and in you second for life, who became dust to redeem dust.

So I pray, oh Christ, fully dust and fully breath: help me to be dust as you are dust, and to breathe your breath. For my lungs gasp for your breath at all times. Therefore, help my desperation for you not cause me to foolishly and immaturely inhale dust, but rather, help me to truly realize in my own life and heart that the efficaciously immanent cadence of your inhalation guards my dust and steadies my breath through my union to you, Christ Jesus.

Amen.

Friday, June 18, 2010

Exegesis of Titus

The beginning of our exegesis of the NA27 Titus

http://greekexegesis.wordpress.com/2010/06/02/titus-11-paul-maxwell/

Monday, July 27, 2009

Salvation, Time, Trinity, and Sacrament

Flesh and blood is given to you as bread and wine. It’s usually crackers and grape juice. The other day we used Saltines and Powerade (Trademarks Reserved…). In all of my interaction with evangelicalism, the weighty imperative to partake of the elements has long far been outweighed by the distracting fact that they are presented as signposts. Detached from actual reality, having their actuality stripped from them as Christ’s flesh was stripped from his bones when he was flogged. I hope to present an alternative to the transubstantial/consubstantial/transignificational trichotomy and instead offer a Trinitarian triptych, which will hopefully create within those reading this blog who are united with Christ a harmony with the Spirit inside of them, resulting in a resounding hunger and thirst for the body and blood of Christ.

First, Israel did not simply celebrate Passover. They reenacted it (Ex. 12:11). Each family slaughtered lambs…again…and again…each year. But reenactment is a weak word when understanding what it meant to those participating in it. The Passover reenactment was not done by Israel simply “in remembrance” of those God interacted with in the exodus narrative. When explaining the Passover to children, the parents would say, “It is the Passover sacrifice to the LORD, who…spared our homes when he struck down the Egyptians.” (Ex. 12:27) God spared our homes. It is not so much that we remember them, but that we remember that we are them. The exodus narrative was the central and controlling narrative of Israel’s theology and identity (Ex. 12:41; Josh. 2:10; 9:9; 1 Kings 8:53) Our identity is a participation in the salvific act of the Father.

Second, during the celebration of this very festival, Jesus says, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me…This is the cup of the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you.” Here Jesus redefines the entire festival, not simply reenacting, but also furthering the story with a new Israel, but with the same God, namely, “me”. This festival which was “celebrated…to the LORD” does not change in its object, but redefined and fully revealed in “me”. To speak analogously, as we always do, the Lord’s supper functions rudimentarily in our relationship with God in the same way that his word does. Consider this, brothers and sisters: drinking the blood and eating the body as actions are acts of participation in Christ’s blood—death—and body—which is resurrected (1 Cor. 10:16). And not only so, but the supper acts as a standard for righteous living (1 Cor. 10:18-22). Our sanctification is a participation in the salvific act of the Son.

In what way then does the Eucharistic sacrament function that scripture itself does not? The very Word who made flesh (John 1:2) and became flesh (John 1:14) testifies about himself, saying, “I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you,” in response to the very question that all who hear the disconcerting dictation want to ask next, namely, “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” (John 6:53, 52) Another rapid response I have is to play my “sola-scriptura” sanction and assume that by “feed,” Jesus means something like “believe,” even though when talking about belief as a separate event 6 verses earlier, he uses “belief” language.

Third, to warrant Jesus’ further appropriation of his thought, saying, “Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day. For my flesh is real food and my blood is real drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him.” (John 6:53-56), I must assume that he is setting forth a foundation for the physical union between my body and his, not implying that communion is necessary for salvation, but that it perpetuates my union (or “participation”—as Paul says in 1 Cor. 10) with Christ. This union is not only the hope of believers, but the hope of all of creation for its redemption (Rom. 8:19-22), for it is “in this hope that we are saved.” The foundation for the relevance this truth in the life of a believer, however, is being among those “who have the firstfruits of the Spirit,” (Rom. 8:23), which is to be among the saints for whom “the Spirit intercedes.” Our hope is a participation in the salvific acts of the Spirit.


A closing narrative. Remember with me now when Israel was waiting to enter the Promised Land. God had promised them that they would occupy the land as an agent of his redemptive plan of global recreation (Psalm 104:30). But before God began fulfilling his promises, Israel sent spies into the land. You know this story. They came back and reported, “We went into the land to which you sent us…Here is its fruit.” (Num. 13:27) Israel ate the fruit of the future promise of God still yet to be fulfilled, but which was in a sense more real and present than ever in the eating of that fruit. The future promise was literally present among them, and they ate it.

When you eat Christ’s flesh and blood, do not simply remember. Rather, acknowledge the fact that your identity, sanctification, and hope are being oriented heavenward as the past, present, and future collapse on you through the active participation of the Father, Son, and Spirit in your body. I will, as I try to grasp the (only by grace) believable truth that the one who knows the thoughts I have about him when I think them (Psalm 139:2) has flesh as corporeal and concrete as the loaf which I hold with my fleshly phalanges. I am subject to the world which is in bondage to decay, and praise be to him who destroyed the power of this bondage in humility (Rom. 8:21) by becoming subject to creation as well (Phil. 2:6-8). I am subject, and so is Christ.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

The Narrative Aspect of Art

When did art achieve this simplified state called “expression”? I think I have noticed this in different peoples’ art created for the explicit end of expression. To the contextually unconscious artist, the piece he sets forth flows with logic, aesthetic rhythm, and at the very least, purpose. Unfortunately, from the outside, said simply systematized “expression” is either hidden by the lines of my subjective eyes as it is reformatted into an alien system of interpretive imposition or is lost and seen as no more than a regurgitation of semiotic seeds onto rocky soil. For example, I recently jotted down some poems onto the back of a few returned quizzes from a class when drawing abstract shapes and dots and connecting them with lines became boring. From that experience grew a desire to read other poetry, but rather than stumbling upon meaning, there was only pictures and figures of speech that I could on the one hand understand, and on the other make no sense of. I saw the semantic meaning, but was blind to the existential purpose.

Expression alone is a selfish monologue. Expression as communication is conversation. Expression as one voice in a conversation is a communion. It’s community. What does community require? Contextual humility. Understood within the context of communication, my role as an artist is no longer simply to express myself, but to forge a lens through which a particular individual (or group of individuals) might see reality. Firstly, I must have an object in mind which I want to communicate. Secondly, I must understand the story and context which brought me to the object in such a way as to compel me to communicate it again. Thirdly, I must recapitulate that narrative in new categories, however familiar to the original story they may be, in order that I might invite a particular contextually dependent person to participate in a fresh perspective on life. A new worldview. This is true contextualization. An invitation, not to try to make sense of objective expression, but to become subject to a story which has a role for those to whom the story is told.

I am reading a book right now called The Triune God by William Placher. In it, he talks about the incarnation as the ultimate speech act by communicating the incommunicable to the perpetually perplexed. In his first chapter, he surveys a variety of philosophers and their proofs for the existence of God, including Aquinas’s five ways, Anselm’s ontological argument, Descartes’s Cartesian foundationalism, Kirkegaard’s argument from the contrary, and more, tearing them apart one at a time by showing them to be internally inconsistent. The union between God and man in Christ was not simply an expression of the love of God to man, but an invitation for those who would never in a million years rightly understand reality from any of their many perspectives to an eye in the midst of the communicative storm of the redemptive story of God. One could even make the case that the incarnation was the prototype for the very paradigm of communication itself. The very paradigm for art. For community. For love. And the apex of this communicative act is not simply for us to recognize his expression, but to accept his invitation to subject ourselves to the very story of Christ himself. I participate in the most expressive art that not only exists, but provides the possibility for existence, by one narrative aspect of my personhood. Namely, I am subject.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

Subject to All

Every word on this page has a story. They are all historically and grammatically conditioned within each interpreter's narrative to be an effect and then a cause in the chain of meaning. Words can mean an infinite number of things because of the infinite number of possible contexts in which they could be spoken or heard. The first time somebody gave me this account for the phenomenon of misunderstanding, there was a feeling of betrayal. There was a sense in which everything that I had come to be so sure of through this whorish medium of communication called language was suddenly unveiled as a beautiful but artificial utopian world, and I was Truman. I had experienced my good morning, good afternoon, and goodnight with the myth of metaphysics. The fact that my ability to know to what degree my understanding participated in reality was so culturally conditioned and subjective refused to let me pass through the gates of dogmatic philosophy, assuring me that the red-lettered paper wizard had no more of an understanding of the way things really were than I did.

I was confused. I misunderstood, and subsequently experienced what some would call "enlightenment", and others "the event of understanding." I realized that I had completely objectified myself in relation to reality. I thought that since I knew that I had masterly crafted a correct understanding of the mechanism of truth, I could then look over the harvest fields of human minds entranced by the idea that truth could be known at all. I was changed by this thought: I am a subject, and I am subject. I am a subject in the grammatical sense, one who produces an act as an intention of will, who lays bare his existence to the world regardless of public scrutiny, and who communicates meaning from himself to another subject. Also, I am subject to language, culture, and time, which does not prohibit me from participation in real knowledge, but rather, allows for an infinite number of possible intersections between two horizons: my mind, and all of existence! I am subject to my surroundings, and if it were not so, I am not convinced that beauty would exist. If it were not so, I am not convinced that meaning would exist. If it were not so, I am not convinced that I would exist. My hope for this blog is to, just as Bon Iver seeks to do, not simply express a feeling, but communicate one. I hope to paint some great horizons. I am subject.