Place as a Living Reality

To tell what we remember, and to keep on telling it, is to keep the past alive in the present. Should we not do so, we could not know, in the deepest sense, how to inhabit a place. To inhabit a place means literally to have made it a habit, to have made it the custom and ordinary practice of our lives, to have learned how to wear a place like a familiar garment, like the garments of sanctity that nuns wore. The word habit, in its now dim original form, meant to own. We own places not because we possess the deeds to them, but because they have entered the continuum of our lives. What is strange to us -- unfamiliar [and uninhabited -- can never be home.

-- Paul Gruchow, Grass Roots: The Universe of Home, p. 6

Bill Holm, R.I.P.

Another of my heroes and favorite writers (and perhaps also a cousin) has died and the world is poorer for his passing, but infinitely richer for his having passed through this world. Bill Holm was a giant of a Viking -- bearish in size, red-haired and -bearded -- who integrated his Icelandic heritage into this love of life, literature, music, and other people. If you don't know him, you should get to; if you have read him, I expect that you, too, will mourn his passing.

He stood for things I appreciate -- good leftist politics, catholicity of taste, classical forms of knowledge -- and for things that kind of hurt me -- e.g., he was a Lutheran, but not of the very-good sort, and he enjoyed finding the Achilles heel in Lutheranism. I only met him once, but we established a quick Icelandic bond -- stop by for coffee, he said in his breathy-smoker-high-on-the-palate voice; we'll find out who our common relatives are; stop by any time. And those who knew him well confirm that the invitation was sincere (and of course, with my well-Minneota-will-always-be-there approach to anything, I lost the chance -- to my disappointment and grief).

He was, of course, not what most people would consider a saint. He had something of a mouth, I'm told. He smoked and ate too much. He could be irrascible, I suppose -- as only children can tend to be. And he didn't seem to tolerate fools well. But what can I say? That sounds like the perfect friend.

His little book Music of Failure is, I think, my favorite. And I'll try to get it down tonight and find a little passage to post. For now, I'll link to Garrison Keillor's touching reflection on this good man.

Storing up Treasures

I think no issue is given greater attention in the Bible than is wealth, and specifically the accumulation of wealth. The prophets (Amos among the most caustic) saw in the accumulation of wealth and in the refusal to share that wealth the clearest statement possible of Israel's religion: It wasn't fear and love and trust in and of God; it was fear, love, and trust of riches. And how many times does Jesus warn of the dangers of money and its accumulation?

Keeping in mind that I think the economic challenges of the world (including consumerism, greed, graft, hording, mean giving -- to name but a few) are of far greater theological significance in the Bible than with the gender of a person one sleeps with in a committed and "faithful" relationship, you might find this commentary, which appeared on The Forward's weekly newsletter, to be interesting. I think the (note: conservative) author's call for foundations to expend themselves within 50 years to be intriguing and in the Biblical spirit!

Interesting "Read" on the Pope's Appointments

John Allen writes an interesting column for the National Catholic Reporter. Today he has a really interesting interpretation of Pope Benedict's appointment of bishops in America. Allen seems to have a good take on this matter, and I'm heartened by his analysis. If what he is saying is true, I think the Pope is doing the right thing -- OK, perhaps I'd like more center-left bishops than center-right. But these choices tend to confirm my hopes for this Papacy. I am, however, sorry about the successor to Archbishop Harry Flynn in St. Paul-Minneapolis: He seemed to be gracefully open to conversation, to respectful dissent within the Church, to ecumenical cooperation in the cause of justice and peace. His successor seems more ham-fisted, but perhaps the Spirit will move him in the direction of his predecessor.

In any event, it will be interesting to see whether the problematic episcopacy of confrontation will be less in evidence with respect to the Church's relations with the Obama administration than was suggested by the tone in the election. The issue of abortion is rightly of primary concern to the Catholic Bishops. But by the Church's own teaching (reiterated by both the prior and current popes) recognizes that in a two-kingdom world (to borrow a non-Catholic phrase), principles of proportionality must be accounted along with a concern for purity.

From a practical standpoint, the far-right conservatives have had control of the government in the recent past -- arguably all three branches. And efforts toward restricting or reducing abortions were all but absent. Perhaps the college of bishops in America will come to some consensus that if they cooperate with efforts to establish justice and community, in contrast to the recent efforts to baptize unfettered supposed market capitalism, they can turn the tide on abortion -- at least dramatically reducing the numbers of abortions. That seems to be something the center-right segment of the bishops' conference can understand.

Finally, I'll be interested to see the degree to which Allen's kind of analysis will play out in the CCET's conference (being held in cooperation with the Pope John Paul II Cultural Center) on the continuing relevance -- or not -- of Vatican II. The sorts of issues that Allen raises, along with recent liturgical reforms and various reports of the current Pope's dissatisfaction with the ripples started by the Council, should underscore the importance of considering just that question during the fiftieth anniversary of the summoning of the Council. In short, the relevance of our conference on the relevance of the Council seems to increase every week. Hope to see you there. (OK, that's a shameless plug, I suppose; but that's one function I can serve for the Center.)

In a Land Called "Holy"

"[T]here is no denying that the ethnic cleansing of [indigenous Palestinians by Zionists in} 1948 has been eradicated almost totally from the collective global memory and erased from the world's conscience. Imagine that not so long ago, in any given country you are familiar with, half of the entire population had been forcibly expelled within a year, half of its villages and towns wiped out, leaving behind only rubble and stones. Imagine now the possibility that somehow this act will never make it into the history books and that all diplomatic efforts to solve the conflict that erupted in that country will totally sideline, if not ignore, this catastrophic event. I, for one, have searched in vain through the history of the world as we know it in the aftermath of the Second World War for a case of this nature and a fate of this kind. There are others, earlier, cases that have fared similarly, such as the ethnic cleansing of non-Hungarians at the end of the nineteenth century, the genocide of the Armenians, and the holocaust perpetrated by the Nazi occupation against travelling people (the Roma, also known as Sinti) in the 1940s. I hope in the future that Palestine will no longer be included in this list.

This is from Ilan Pappe's book The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine (Oxford: Oneworld, 2006) at p. 9. It is a summary and raison d'etre for his wrting thte book. Pappe is an Israeli-born historian who teaches history in Britain. His website is here. This book is an effort to correct the "narrative" surrounding the beginnings of the modern state of Israel by means of the displacement of its Arab population. I know that the book is controversial, but so far I have only read negative reviews by those inclined to the Zionist or pro-Israel side of the story; others have been much more positive.

I think that we USAmerican Christians must come to grips with the facts in the Middle East. And chief among those facts are that we have betrayed the cause of justice and peace by our (often intentionally ignorant) support for the modern state of Israel at all costs. As Christians and as USAmericans, we should get the history straight and work for a revision of American foreign policy that will allow for a just resolution to the Israel-Palestine conflict.

This book is saddening me, sickening me, angering me, and judging me. I think we should all read it.

Coincidences

I'm intrigued by intersections and coincidences, and today has a doozy: Today is the 200th natal anniversary (read: birthday) of both Abraham Lincoln and Charles Darwin. Most people can say nothing bad about Lincoln and an enormous number of Christians seem to be able to say nothing good about Darwin.

I'm a fan of Lincoln's: I'm not a groupie or anything like that -- although I have a good number of books that collect his writings, that analyze his rhetoric (e.g., Gary Wills' wonderful, Lincoln at Gettysburg), that look at his leadership. I think it undeniable that he is much more sophisticated that we are often led to believe and that he stands as one of the supreme American rhetoriticians. As convoluted as my thinking about the Civil War is, I have no doubt that the Gettysburg Address is dang near a perfect work of art.

I know less of Darwin, although the theological journal, Word and World, published by Luther Sem, has a nice set of essays on the significance and/or problems Darwin has for the Church's teaching. I personally have not been able to perceive any conflict between at least a humble form of natural selection and the teachings of Genesis 1. In fact, Leon Kass, I think it is, has a really nice essay in The Beginning of Wisdom, on the congruity of the Genesis accounts of the creation of the animal world and the finds of evolution scientists.

Both men had a hand in re-shaping the world, though obviously in different ways and on different stages. I wonder whether there are any lessons to be drawn or proposed on the coincidences of their birth: issues of faith, or of making one's way though uncharted waters with wide-open eyes and awe before God, or ... .

In any event, it's worth raising a glass to the two of them.

Of Marginal Theological Import ...

I suppose, but if one is an Incarnational Christian, then all of creation is included in salvation (contrary to what we may have discussed in the Jenson seminar on anthropology back in the '70s). So it is not only good news to me, but worthy of others' note that an old (10-year-old) Sussex Spaniel, Stump, won Best in Show at the Westminster Kennel Club. (I don't have cable TV, but in February, I always regret that, because I love the WKC show and I can't see it without cable.)

As I said elsewhere re: Stump's win: Old dogs don't need to learn new tricks; they can win with and teach the old ones.

I love Spaniels -- in fact, I've never met a Spaniel I didn't love. So how about a festival Te Deum for Stump?

Do you suppose ...

that I'm naive to hope that all those dogmatic-theologian-ethicists who have been obsessed with the issues of homosexuality might, with news that 600,000 people lost work in the last month alone (resulting in an under-reported unemployment rate of 7.6%) might pay some attention to the issues of run-away capitalism, idolatrous consumerism, need for contributions to food pantries, importance of seeing congregations as communities of support for the members who are less well-off than others, and pastors who can more readily (and enthusiastically) discuss the details of their retirement plans than of the Holy Trinity?

Just wondering.

R.I.P., John Updike -- more

This is a good an obituary of and paean to John Updike as I have seen. I commend it to you.

The New Russian Patriarch

Blessings on and prayers for His Holiness Patriarch Kyrill of Moscow and All Russia. He was enthroned on 1 February. There is information and some nifty pictures here.

Following is an excerpt from his enthronement address to those gathered (including the Russian President and his string-puller, Vladimir Putin

To combine Orthodox faith and the moral of the Gospel with the everyday thoughts and hopes of people means to help them answer the most difficult philosophical and ethical questions of our time. Faith will be understandable and in real demand, irrespective of the variety and discrepancy of views and convictions in society, only when people realize and feel deeply the unquestionable rightness and power of the message which God Himself is sending to people in His revelation. Human thoughts and human words cannot be stronger than the Word of God. If this obvious truth is not evident to many people, this means that the beauty and persuasiveness of the Divine Word is obscured by that what we today call the ‘human factor.’

The witness of the Church to the world presupposes not only the sermon in church, but also an open, friendly and interested dialogue, in which both sides are both speaking and listening. The truths of faith become at least understandable through this dialogue, as they come into creative and living contact with the thoughts and convictions of people. The Church enriches herself through this dialogue with the knowledge of what contemporary people are with their way of thinking and their questions to the Church.

This kind of dialogue facilitates a greater understanding among people of different views and convictions, including their religious beliefs, and promotes the consolidation of peace and accord in our societies and states. The relations between the Church and the State should develop in the framework of a friendly dialogue and cooperation on the basis of the Constitution to serve the good of the Church and the state and the good of people.

The Primates of all Local Churches are called to care for the unity of Universal Orthodoxy together with their brothers from other Churches. I thank the first hierarchs and representatives of the Holy Orthodox Churches present here for our common prayers, and I state that I shall always be open to dialogue with the sister Churches and to common efforts which would help us strengthen and improve all-Orthodox cooperation and to attain more coordination of our pastoral and missionary efforts.

For the most part, not bad, I think. (I recognize that I may overly optimistic in my interprestation of the Patriarch's reference to the "sister Churches." Does he mean only those Churches gathered around the Eastern patriarchs, or does he implicitly acknowledge an ecclesial reality in the other traditions, too?) It's reminiscent of some of the sentiments of Vatican II's readiness to engage in conversation with the "separated brethren," with the Church's cultured despisers, and with those who just don't get what the Church stands for. Principled and respectful dialogue is the way to go (also in secular foreign affairs, if I may inject a political note -- but then Patriarch specifically addresses his nation's political leaders, so I can't be too far inappropriate).

As the World Intersects

Does anyone share my suspicion that, with his recent move to de-ban the Lefevrites and his problems with cabinet nominees' choices of really bad tax accountants, the Pope and President Obama may soon be meeting for mutual consolation (and perhaps a glass or two of Limoncello)?

Anti-War Films

I'm interested in developing a list of high-quality films that deal with themes of opposing war and/or violence, peacemaking, and the like. After my wife and I saw Joyeux Noel (which bowled us over), I began to look around -- sort of haphazardly, I admit. Now we have seen the 1956 (!) Japanese film, The Burmese Harp, and I'm urged on in my mission.

Harp is set at the end of World War II -- in Burma, as one might expect from the title (although most of the filming was done in Japan). It "chronicles a Japanese soldier's transformation after coming face to face with the human cost of war" (to quote the Netflix jacket). Corporal Mizushima is sent to persuade a hold-out company of Japanese soldiers that they should surrender, since Japan herself has surrendered. But when they refuse, he ends up the sole survivor of a British rocket attack on the soldier's fortress. On his lonely trip back to his regiment, which have been interned in a POW camp to await their return to Japan, he is overwhelmed by the carnage he sees. And he changes his path in order to serve a higher purpose.

In addition to the touching story line, there is amazing black-and-white photography (the director has clearly studied Kurosawa), lovely character development -- and music (also perhaps not surprising, given the title). Mizushima plays a Burmese-styled harp with grace and beauty with the encouragement of his company commander, who is himself a trained musician who turns the troupe into a choir. So there is gorgeous male-chorale singing (involving both Japanese and British/Indian troops). And the score includes a most effective use of what came to be Bach's "O Sacred Head Now Wounded."

Kathy cried through much of the last half hour of the movie -- with good reason, I admit. And I heartily recommend it.

Next, I'm planning to revisit All Quiet on the Western Front. I read the novel way before I could make sense of it, but was moved by it to think about the immorality of war even in middle school. So I need to see the movie again.

But I'm wondering what you think should go on the list. I've seen lots of pro-war movies that have made me understand the insanity of war, and I suppose they could go on the list. And I know of movies that accurately portray the horrors of war, and those are valuable, too. But at this point, I'm especially interested in pictures that are or seem to be explicit in their criticism of war as a solution to anything or that promote a self-conscious (or maybe I mean self-aware) pacifism.

Here's your chance to help me out.

John Updike has died

John Updike, whom Christopher Lehmann-Haupt of the NYT dubbed (here) a "kaleidoscopically gifted writer," has died of lung cancer at the young age of 76.

This one is hard for me to take, for Updike has seen me through all the various stages of my life from college through the current time. We read Updike in every religion-and-literature course I ever took. And I personally enjoyed reading him very much: Especially his "Rabbit" novels were theological treatises on the human condition. But even his less worthy ones (IMHO) were similarly illuminating and challenging. (I have to laugh, however, when I think that he earned a lifetime achievement award from Britain's Worst Sex Writing in Fiction awards committee. I never learned how he felt about that!)

Raised as a Lutheran, he was, I think, a pretty serious Christian all his life, ending his days as a Congregationalist, I understand. (Given where he lived most of his years, that's not too surprising, I suppose.) His roots were enough (so the story goes) that a Lutheran seminary in this country invited him to be the commencement speaker one year. Apparently, Updike suffered some from a stammer or stutter. In any event, he replied with a terse telegram: Thank you, but no. I am a writer not a speaker.

His writing spoke to me and to countless others through his illustrious career. And we should all mourn the passing of a serious and talented writer. (Feel free to comment on your favorite or least favorite Updike classic.)

May his memory be eternal. And may the Lord grant him eternal rest and let perpetual light shine upon him.

Gran Torino

Gloating is most certainly not a Christian virtue, but I take the risk of sinning boldly here (before you jump on me, I know that's not what Luther meant!). We saw the movie Gran Torino last night, and it proved finally that Clint Eastwood can't do everything: For his latest few movies, he has acted, directed, produced, written the music, and for all I know designed the costumes (and he was a mayor, too, or a while). But in Gran Torino he proves that he CAN'T SING. Glory Hallelujah. (He's sung in three of his movies, but in this one, it barely even qualifies as croaking!)

The actor I first knew as Randy Yates in Rawhide, is a fantastically talented guy! And while this may not be the greatest movie ever made -- or even the best he's made -- it is eminently worth seeing. OK, so it's predictable and formulaic: He's able to pull it together.

This is a Minnesota picture, and I don't know why it wasn't set in Minnesota. I suppose my good old state was too cheap in the tax credits, but c'mon guys! This story was written in Minneapolis, set in the Twin Cities (there's a stronger Hmong presence in Saint Paul than on this side of the River), using language and images out of Minnesota life (if you know what to listen for). And I'm told that Bee Vang, the kid around whom the story revolves, is a non-actor from The Cities. Good grief. Even the final scene, driving along the Lake, could have been filmed here!

There are some amazingly funny lines in this movie, even though it is violent (Dirty Harry lives) in word and deed, and it is just plain ugly in some senses. I won't give away the funniest line that make me guffaw, but there is one scene in which Walt asks Sue how the Hmong happened to be in an area of the country "covered with snow six months out of the year." She notes that the Lutherans brought them in. His response is, "Everybody always blames something on the Lutherans." (And don't we know it.)

On a final note, to make this post fit the general theme of this blog, Brad (my movie partner) and I discussed the portrayal of the priest in the movie. It's an interesting handling, above average among movies which have priests as supporting characters. The guy who plays the priest, Christopher Carley, looks the part -- fresh faced, red haired and freckled, young, very innocent. And at the beginning we're led to believe that he's a real light-weight. But through the course of the movie either he changes or our (through Walt's eyes) perspective on him changes. Because he ends up being kind of sophisticated: He is persistent to the extreme about getting Walt to confession, enduring some really crunching insults. He has insight into some aspects of Walt's personality -- although he can't quite get down what he should call him, whether Mr. Kowalski or Walt (and his maturity is reflected in the way he ultimately resolves that). And he has commitment to the Church, not just a religiosity-in-Catholic garb.

I take issue with one thing in the movies' handling of the priest: Father Janovich serves an aging, apparently conservative congregation (although we don't see much of the place except for funerals). Yet he makes many of his visits to Walt in a sport jacket and shirt with no tie. Now I don't know even one Roman Catholic priest who goes about daily work without his collar; I can't believe that any of them would go on missions without their collar (and to that extent they are most certainly trained to look different from Protestant pastors). So I'm not sure what the deal was with that.

I wouldn't give the Oscar to this movie (my vote goes to Slumdog Millionaire), but this is worth seeing -- and on the big screen, if only to get a great view of the eponymous 1972 Gran Torino.

Who are you?

Check out this dandy, very short diagnosis of your similarity to one or another of the early Witnesses:

http://www.fathersofthechurch.com/quiz/

It would be fun to hear how you do.

For my part, I "am" Melito of Sardis -- about whom I apparently share "a great love of history and liturgy. You’re attached to the traditions of the ancients, yet you recognize that the old world — great as it was — is passing away. You are loyal to the customs of your family, though you do not hesitate to call family members to account for their sins." (My daughter would certainly nod in agreement on that last point.)

Are there other know-thyself "tests" that are of note? (Don't give me any of those puzzles that require you to subscribe to something in order to get the results. They are fundamentally dishonest and I want no part of them.)

Peace and self-knowledge be yours.

MLK "Not Serious" Today

Here's a thought-provoking call to repentance from Matthew Yglesias:

It's nicely reasoned and said -- if all too brief.

The 2009 CCET Conference

It's never too early to reserve time for the conferences of the Center for Catholic and Evangelical Theology -- and this year is no exception. (As many of you know, I'm on the Board of the Center and subscribe its mission wholeheartedly. I do what I can to encourage people to attend the conferences (which are always more than wonderful both for the content and for the conversation with some of the Church's most interesting people) and to subscribe to the Center's journal, Pro Ecclesia (which is one of the finest theological journals on the market -- and often for much less money than the other good comparable ones).

This year's conference is scheduled for Washington, DC. It will be located at the John Paul II Cultural Center there (the John Paul II Center is cooperating with us on this conference) -- fittingly enough, since the theme of the conference is "Vatican II: Its Continuing Challenge to All Churches." The conference speakers, drawn from a variety of traditions, will address such questions as whether the promises of Vatican II remain unfulfilled; what paths have proven to be dead ends; what possibilities remain to be explored. And those speakers include George Lindbeck, professor emeritus at Yale, who served at all four sessions of the Council as the Lutheran World Federation's official "observer."

It promises to be a splendid conference, and I hope to see you there.

Check out more details (and go ahead and register online) at the CCET website: www.e-ccet.org.

The conference page says to contact Michael Root, the Center's Executive Director, with any questions. But feel free to contact me, too, with any questions or concerns you have.

A Practical Request

How many deaths of other people's children by bombing or starvation are we willing to accept in order that we may be free, affluent, and (supposedly) at peace? To that question I answer pretty quickly: None. And I know that I am not the only one who would give that answer: Please. No children. Don't kill any children for my benefit.
-- Wendell Berry, "The Failure of War," 29

Epiphany Hymn

My daughter's "other" church choir (she is an active member of 2 Lutheran congregatioins) sang a beautiful and affecting setting of this Healy Willan (fabulous church-music composer) carol in their Christmas "concert." While Ray Brown (of blessed memory) may have determined that the Three Kings is a Christmas story (and he's probably right, as we he was on most things), I offer it in Epiphany:

The Three Kings
Healey Willan

“Who knocks tonight so late, so late?” the weary porter said.
Three Kings stood at the gate, each with a crown on head.
The serving man bowed down; the inn was full he knew.
Said he, “In all this town is no fit place for you."

A light the manger lit; there lay the Mother meek.
Said they, “This place is fit; here is the rest we seek!"
They loosed their latchet strings so stood they all unshod.
Come in, come in, ye Kings, ye Kings, ye Kings!

And kiss the Feet of God.

R.I.P., Richard John Neuhaus

I can hardly claim any credibility if I fail to note the death of one of the foremost, eloquent, biting, brilliant, and irritating persons to address the faith/world interface: Richard John Neuhaus. A quite decent obituary appeared in the Times here.

I have been reluctant to post the notice because of my feelings about Fr. Richard. I have followed him, read him, admired him, and torn hair out because of him for decades -- back to his days as a Lutheran and the sharp-tongued editor of the (Lutheran) Forum Newsletter (I think it was still called that in the old days). And I have been puzzled by his progression from parish pastor (well, never quite just that, I guess) to sycophant to the neo-conservative political-theological synthesis. I wish someone had ever called him publicly to account for many of his positions, but he was simply too powerful. But now it is too late, and I was enjoined by my mother decades ago from speaking ill (or even critically) of the dead.

I must give him credit as a faithful servant of God as his own lights guided him. Certainly, he was brilliant, sometimes eloquent (and usually readable), passionate, and influential -- a powerful example of simul justus et peccator. I understand he could be charming and witty: In the couple of occasions I met him, he was not so, but then the witness of others is likely more reliable in that regard. He was one of a kind, I think, and one wonders about the direction of First Things without its guiding principal.

Eternal rest, grant him, O Lord;
and let perpetual light shine upon him.

And if there be such a thing as purgatory (and I'm not sure about his position on this matter), may it work! (That's a joke for those of you who would model your wit and humor on RJN's.)

And may his memory be eternal.