A metaphor for traditions

Traditions are a reality. We are immersed in them. We cannot escape them. We need to be aware of them and see their strengths and weaknesses. Previously, I introduced tradition as a potential guide (along with experience, reason, and transcendence) to help make sense of science, God, and life. In this chapter, I explore in more detail different dimensions of traditions, including culture, worldview, narratives, institutions, and hermeneutics. Culture shapes the way we see things, how we do things, and what we think makes sense.

A good metaphor for traditions may be farms. Farms are a reality and won’t go away, as we need food, and they are a means to provide it. Each farm has an origin and history. But even with diligent historical investigation, there will be some level of uncertainty about that origin and history. For example, where does one begin? With the first owner of the land? Or indigenous people? Or the ecological history of the land? Farms are dynamic as they continually change due to both internal and external forces. Farms are diverse in scale, crops, animals, buildings, workers, institutional structure, types of engagement with the external world, sense of identity, and goals. They are multifaceted and can be described in terms of agriculture, ecology, biology, economics, politics, and culture. 

The value assigned to different types of farms, from a small family organic farm to a megafarm owned by a multinational corporation, is subjective and contested. Farms can be associated with idealism, romanticism, or a harsh struggle for survival. The value of farms is tied up with the knotty concept of efficiency. It is unrealistic for most of us to individually grow all our own food, and so we choose to benefit from the hard-won experience and expertise of farmers. We cannot start from scratch. Modernity in the form of science, technology, and capitalism threatens the existence and viability of many types of farms.

Over time, a farm might remain fruitful, or it may become barren and unproductive. Some farms produce wonderful and nutritious food. The produce of other farms may be toxic because of disease, pesticides or contaminated soil. Remember mad cow disease? Farms cannot be separated from their context: the climate, environment, adjacent farms, economics, culture, and politics. Interactions between a farm and its context may be positive or negative. To be productive and sustainable, farms need custodians who both preserve them and adapt to their context. Successful and productive farms may be taken over by people who see them as a means of personal gain and have little interest in preserving the history or what the custodians saw as valuable.

In the paragraphs above, the word “farm” could be replaced with “tradition.” Like models, all metaphors are wrong, but some are useful. Farms are simpler and less controversial than traditions. I like the metaphor because it provides insights into the multifaceted character of traditions and the issues they raise, while possibly protecting us from our strong feelings, either positive or negative, about specific traditions. 

Living and dying for your country

 I recently read Patriot, an autobiography by Alexei Navalny, as a part of an extended family book club. I thank my sister-in-law and her husband for choosing the book, selecting it and giving us a copy for Christmas.

Navalny was a Russian activist, campaigning against corruption in the Putin regime. He became well known through a blog that led to the formation of the Anti-Corruption Foundation. It made extensive investigations that were publicised through beautifully crafted videos that revealed the ridiculous wealth that Putin and his cronies acquired through the looting of state-owned enterprises. Navalny was poisoned in 2020, spent 6 months recovering in Germany, and then courageously returned to Russia, even though he knew he would probably be arrested and die in prison. Unfortunately, this is what happened.

I highly recommend the book, even though it is long and at times distressing and depressing. Navalny is a gifted writer and storyteller. I learnt much about life in the former Soviet Union from someone who grew up in the context of the Chernobyl nuclear accident and the war in Afghanistan, leading ultimately to the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Whereas Gorbachev and Yeltsin are often seen as heroes in the West, Navalny does not see them that way. Gorbachev was well-meaning but indecisive. He became unpopular as his first initiative was one banning alcohol, to combat widespread alcoholism. Nevertheless, in hindsight, Navalny developed a great respect for Gorbachev because he was incorruptible. He never gained financially from his position.

On the somewhat lighter side, as a physicist, I was intrigued by

“I firmly believe that all the best things on earth have been created by brave nerds. (I have on the wall of my office a photograph of the 1927 Solvay Conference on Physics. My heroes are those brave nerds who brought about a revolution and enabled the progress of all humankind. I find them so inspiring that I have hung a copy of that photo in the rooms of both my children.)"

An important question is how did Navalny sustain his activism, stay courageous, and endure the suffering of prison?

While in prison, Navalny memorised Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, all 111 verses in Russian, English, French, and Latin! He discusses how this sustained him. It was central to one of the speeches he gave during one of his "criminal trials" in prison.

“It’s not always easy for to do what this book [the Bible] says, but I try. And that’s why it’s easier for me than for many other people who do politics in Russia. Recently someone wrote to me. ‘Navalny,’ he says, why is everyone telling you to “stay strong,” “don’t give up,” “stick out,” and “grit your teeth”? What is it you’re having to put up with? Didn’t you say awhile back in an interview that you believe in God, and it says in the Bible, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be fulfilled.” Well, that’s great. You’ve got it made!’ And I thought, How about that! How well this person understands me. I’m not sure I’ve got it made exactly, but I’ve always accepted that particular precept as pretty much an instruction on how to act. 

That’s why I feel, while of course I’m not particularly enjoying my present situation, I feel no regret about having returned here and what I’m doing. Because everything I did was right. On the contrary, I feel, well, a certain satisfaction… 

I don’t [feel lonely], and let me explain why. Because those words — ‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness’ — seem exotic and a bit weird, but they actually express the most important political idea in Russia at this moment.” (pages 326-327) 

The book ends with his testimony of how his simple trust in Jesus sustained him. It did not require

"fervent prayer by the prison barracks window three times a day (a very common phenomenon in prisons). 

I have always thought, and said openly, that being a believer makes it easier to live your life and, to an an even greater extent, engage in opposition politics. Faith makes life simpler.

… ask yourself whether you are a Christian in your heart of hearts. It is not essential for you to believe some old guys in the desert once lived to be eight hundred years old or that the sea was literally parted in front of someone. But are you a disciple of the religion whose founder sacrificed himself for others, paying the price for their sins? Do you believe in the immortality of the soul and the rest of that cool stuff? If you can honestly answer yes, what is there left for you to worry about? … Don’t worry about the morrow, because the morrow is perfectly capable of taking care of itself. 

My job is to seek the Kingdom of God and his righteousness, and leave it to good old Jesus and the rest of his family to deal with everything else. They won’t let me down and will sort out all of my headaches. As they say in prison here: they will take my punches for me.” (page 479)

A helpful book review that explores the above themes more is by Andrew DeCort 

Karl Barth and the dialogue between theology and the sciences

I just finished writing a paper that draws together many things I posted in the early years of this blog.

Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Creation: implications for the dialogue between theology and the sciences

Abstract

Karl Barth’s Doctrine of Creation is argued to be fruitful for discussing the relationship between the natural sciences and theology. Barth saw distinct roles for each but acknowledged that the boundary between them is not clear. He argued that the existence of the world as a distinct objective reality is an article of faith, resonating with some modern philosophical and scientific discussions. The purpose of the Biblical account of Creation is not to give a scientific account of material origins but rather to describe the purpose of the Creation: the Covenant between Israel and the Creator God. The clear distinction between the Creation and the Creator can justify the methodological naturalism of science. Given that the Covenant is the internal basis of creation, we should not be surprised that science has discovered reliable laws of regularity and uniformity. These laws reflect the covenantal faithfulness of the Creator.

The full manuscript is available here.

I welcome comments.

Happy 50th Birthday Papua New Guinea!

 Fifty years ago, Papua New Guinea became an independent nation after years of colonial rule by Australia.

There is much to celebrate!

Here are a few sample postings.

Ten Things I will be Celebrating, by my son Luke.

In Praise of Papua New Guinea, by myself.

Comparing ourselves to 100+-year-old countries is unfair, by Kingtau Mambon.

Getting into Paul's Letter to the Romans

At church, we are doing a sermon series on Paul's letter to the Romans. Below is some background material that I have found helpful.

First, here is Eugene Peterson's introduction from The Message.

"The event that split history into “before” and “after” and changed the world took place about thirty years before Paul wrote this letter. The event—the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus—took place in a remote corner of the extensive Roman Empire: the province of Judea in Palestine. Hardly anyone noticed, certainly no one in busy and powerful Rome.

And when this letter arrived in Rome, hardly anyone read it, certainly no one of influence. There was much to read in Rome—imperial decrees, exquisite poetry, finely crafted moral philosophy—and much of it was world-class. And yet in no time, as such things go, this letter left all those other writings in the dust. Paul’s letter to the Romans has had a far larger impact on its readers than the volumes of all those Roman writers put together.

The quick rise of this letter to a peak of influence is extraordinary, written as it was by an obscure Roman citizen without connections. But when we read it for ourselves, we begin to realize that it is the letter itself that is truly extraordinary, and that no obscurity in writer or readers could have kept it obscure for long.

The letter to the Romans is a piece of exuberant and passionate thinking. This is the glorious life of the mind enlisted in the service of God. Paul takes the well-witnessed and devoutly believed fact of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth and thinks through its implications. How does it happen that in the death and resurrection of Jesus, world history took a new direction, and at the same moment the life of every man, woman, and child on the planet was eternally affected? What is God up to? What does it mean that Jesus “saves”? What’s behind all this, and where is it going?

These are the questions that drive Paul’s thinking. Paul’s mind is supple and capacious. He takes logic and argument, poetry and imagination, Scripture and prayer, creation and history and experience, and weaves them into this letter that has become the premier document of Christian theology."

Here is the poster from The Bible Project.

and the videos

 

 

 Here is a word cloud.

The centrality of marginality to Christian theology and life

This month at the theology reading group, we are discussing Marginality: The Key to Multicultural Theology by Jung Young Lee.

How do we make sense of our life experience in terms of theology? How do we make sense of theology in terms of our life experience? Given our humanity (finitude and egoism), it is impossible to completely separate our theology and our experience. Will they enrich or distort one another? Previously, I have written about the challenges of contextual theology.

Jung Young Lee was born in North Korea in 1935, escaped to South Korea during the Korean War, and immigrated to the USA as an undergraduate student. He then worked as a librarian, obtained a Ph.D., taught in a secular university, became a minister in the United Methodist Church, was active in its Korean-American congregations, and became a Professor of Systematic Theology at Drew University. Over the years, he experienced racism, prejudice, and stereotyping as an Asian-American.  Not feeling he belonged in the USA, he returned to South Korea at one point with the intention of staying. However, he discovered that he felt he no longer belonged there either.

Lee makes sense of his life through three lenses: historical, sociological, and theological. He recounts the historical experience of immigrants to the USA from Japan, Korea, and China, beginning in the nineteenth century. It is a sad and disturbing history of exploitation, discrimination, and humiliation. He discusses the sociological concept of marginality that was introduced to describe the "integration" of immigrants into the American "melting pot." He contests some of these definitions as they are developed by those in the centre and assume that being on the margins is bad and that the marginalised should move towards the centre. The centre is characterised by a concern with "wealth, power, and glory." (page 31)

"Immigration is the most vivid and profound symbol of marginality for us." (page 110).

Lee claims that "Theology is autobiographical so I reflect on my praxis and context." (page 33).

Lee discusses how marginality is central to the Biblical narrative. The Tower of Babel "was the symbol of centralisation" (p. 110). 

Lee suggests that in Old Testament narratives there are three acts (p,111). 

1. God's call to be a marginal people

2. Faith

3. "The promise which includes  receiving land, becoming a powerful nation, and making a great name (Genesis 12:1-9)."

"These three acts are inseparable. The first and third acts seem to contradict one another, but they are connected in the second act. The order of these acts cannot be reversed.... Tragedies in the history of Judaism and Christianity were due to the reversal this order... The coexistence of both marginality (the first act) and centrality (the third act) is possible in faith (the second act), the connecting principle..."

There is a dialectic. It is both/and rather than either/or.

God called Moses from his marginal status to lead the Israelite slaves out of Egypt. They wandered in the wilderness for forty years. Jesus was born in a stable, the son of a teenage unwed woman, and grew up in Galilee. In the wilderness, he resisted the temptation to embrace "wealth, power, and honour." He was scorned by the centre: the local religious and political leaders. The focus of his ministry was on the marginalised: the poor, sick, ritually unclean, hungry, lame, beggars, prostitutes, and tax collectors.  Jesus' death on the cross was the ultimate symbol of marginalisation. His disciples were not drawn from the social, political, or religious elites.

Humility, service, and love are the dominant characteristics Jesus said his followers should have. The early church did this and lived on the margins. Yet, following Constantine and the rise of Christendom, the church embraced centrality and scorned marginality. It was characterised by wealth, honour, and power. Today, the church, in all its diverse forms, still aspires to centrality. It is hierarchical, bureaucratic, and exclusive. Dogma does not recognise multiple shades of grey. (p. 125) "Centralism is the cardinal sin that destroys the authentic church." (p.142)

Lee presents a radical alternative vision for the church, including for seminaries. He argues that cell groups should be the core structural element of the church. Structures should be characterised by flexibility, local autonomy, and informality.

I have sympathy for his proposals, but sometimes I find he is idealistic and overly optimistic. Some of his proposals may work for a marginalised community such as Korean-Americans (who tend to be disciplined, well-organised, and highly educated). However, for groups of people such as the homeless and those with addictions or traumatic backgrounds, it is extremely challenging for them to develop structures and leaders. Such challenges are helpfully described in an earlier post by my wife, Robin.

On a personal level, I found the book challenging and discomforting. I am a child of the centre, in terms of family background, race, education, wealth, social status, and profession. Most of my life, I have been involved in churches and ministries that value and focus on centrality and marginality. This has not involved a blatant seeking after wealth, power, and honour. It has been much more subtle and subconscious, reflecting the surrounding culture and background of the participants and leaders. Too often I have been attracted to the centre and seduced by it. Only over the last fifteen years, I have a moved to a more marginal outlook and focus, stimulated by experiences in the Majority World. Yet the pull back to the centre is there day after day, particularly towards comfort, safety, and predictability.

The orientation and main messages of the book are largely not new to me. Nevertheless, it is a message I need to keep hearing. Lee's description of the immigrant experience, both his own and his historical predecessors, increased my imagination and empathy towards the immigrants I interact with. He gives seven characteristics of the experience of marginality: rejection, humiliation, alienation, loneliness, nothingness, allness, and a vision of new life.

Visualising the church in first century Rome

 I watched the movie, Paul, Apostle of Christ, on Netflix. Here are a few things that I found helpful about the movie. Overall, it provided me with a clearer picture of what it may have been like to be a follower of Jesus in Rome during the reign of Emperor Nero. 

The Gospel was for "losers": the poor, oppressed, orphans, weak, powerless, children, widows, cripples, and dying. They were held in contempt by the Roman rulers, who were arrogant, ruthless, proud, heartless, pagan, and lovers of money and power. Being a Christian meant living in community, serving the marginalised, being willing to suffer, renouncing violence, and every day facing the possibility of a violent death.

There is a wonderful scene where Paul has a discussion with Mauritius, the Roman soldier who is the prison prefect. Mauritius cannot understand why Paul is a respected and influential leader of the Christians, is willing to suffer, does not gain financially from his ministry, and believes in truth.