I happened upon the following line in CS Lewis's chapter on the Incarnation:
"Nature by dominating spirit wrecks all spiritual activities: spirit by dominating Nature confirms and improves natural activities." ("The Grand Miracle," Miracles)
This strikes me as Lewis's version of grace-perfecting-nature. A professor friend thinks Lewis's opinion of nature and grace reflects Henri De Lubac:
"When He said, ‘Be perfect,’ He meant it. He meant that we must go in for the full treatment. It is hard; but the sort of compromise we are all hankering after is harder—in fact, it is impossible. It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad." ("Is Christianity Hard or Easy?" Mere Christianity)
De Lubac's 's controversial position was that there were no natural ends (or, goal, purpose, from the Greek term telos); the human person has super-natural ends. According to Lewis's egg image, the egg is meant to hatch as a chick; this is the end of an egg, parallel to the supernatural end of the human person. A person cannot go on as a merely natural person; either one is born again as a Spirit creature, or one goes bad. Lewis presents this in his fine dream story, The Great Divorce.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
A Life Calculus?
I am arguing with myself here, but I imagine people who read the prior entry want to ask, "what is the death toll of war?"
I am not justifying killing in warfare, capital punishment, etc. The human person has the right not to be killed, period. Governments and societies have no natural right to kill that subordinates the right to life.
Rather, my point was that if the policies of the president-elect work themselves out, the impact should be quantifiable.
If we can quantify the impact, then we can learn something about the outcome of voting pro-life.
I am not justifying killing in warfare, capital punishment, etc. The human person has the right not to be killed, period. Governments and societies have no natural right to kill that subordinates the right to life.
Rather, my point was that if the policies of the president-elect work themselves out, the impact should be quantifiable.
If we can quantify the impact, then we can learn something about the outcome of voting pro-life.
A Death Toll?
Now that the presidential election is over, it would be wise for pro-life advocates to carefully track the real, quantifiable impact on unborn human beings. Archbishop Chaput (Denver) has warned Catholic voters that this man is the most radical pro-abortion candidate. What I have read about the president-elect's abortion policies has truly chilled me. I have read Catholic theologians -- even my friends -- justify a vote for this man on the lack of impact pro-life politicians have had to this point. It looks to me that his policies will have an identifiable impact, an escalation in the death of the unborn. I hope I am wrong, of course.
(I am an independent who varies from socialist to libertarian, depending on the issue. I had no dog in this race.)
(I am an independent who varies from socialist to libertarian, depending on the issue. I had no dog in this race.)
Monday, October 27, 2008
Life as Battle, Journey, Riddle
I happened upon this line from GK Chesterton in A. Jacobs's Narnian: "The 'Iliad' is only great because all life is a battle, the Odyssey' because all life is a journey, the Book of Job because all life is a riddle" (Defendant). The point seems to be that the great story is great because it reflects the real story of human life. Even in the stories of great heroes non-heroic human life is captured. Jacobs quotes another of Chesterton that is more general on the human story as story: "The life of man is a story; an adventure story; and in our vision the same is true even of the story of God" (Orthodoxy qtd. in Narnian 124). That is, the biblical drama of salvation also reflects our stories. Thus the Bible is not a story imposed; rather, it is a story that resonates with human experience.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Lewis on the Creation Story
This is from his book Miracles:
"No philosophical theory which I have yet come across is a radical improvement on the words of Genesis, that 'In the beginning God made Heaven and Earth'. I say 'radical' improvement, because the story in Genesis—as St Jerome said long ago—is told in the manner 'of a popular poet', or as we should say, in the form of folk tale. But if you compare it with the creation legends of other peoples—with all these delightful absurdities in which giants to be cut up and floods to be dried up are made to exist before creation—the depth and originality of this Hebrew folk tale will soon be apparent." ("Nature and Supernature")
I do not like to take on arguments about which story is better. Rather, I know that since I am a Christian I will believe that my story is better than all other creation stories (cosmogonies). The Babylonian Enuma Elish (which Lewis alludes to) is not my story and therefore does not appeal to me.
On the other hand, it is interesting that of all the ancient cosmogonies, only the Hebrew one continues to capture the imagination of people who live 2500-3000 years after it was composed. The allure of this story may be a by-product of its place in the larger Christian drama of salvation, but one should also be aware of the extent to which the Hebrew cosmogony is responsible for and resonates with the modern Western exalted view of nature and the human person.
"No philosophical theory which I have yet come across is a radical improvement on the words of Genesis, that 'In the beginning God made Heaven and Earth'. I say 'radical' improvement, because the story in Genesis—as St Jerome said long ago—is told in the manner 'of a popular poet', or as we should say, in the form of folk tale. But if you compare it with the creation legends of other peoples—with all these delightful absurdities in which giants to be cut up and floods to be dried up are made to exist before creation—the depth and originality of this Hebrew folk tale will soon be apparent." ("Nature and Supernature")
I do not like to take on arguments about which story is better. Rather, I know that since I am a Christian I will believe that my story is better than all other creation stories (cosmogonies). The Babylonian Enuma Elish (which Lewis alludes to) is not my story and therefore does not appeal to me.
On the other hand, it is interesting that of all the ancient cosmogonies, only the Hebrew one continues to capture the imagination of people who live 2500-3000 years after it was composed. The allure of this story may be a by-product of its place in the larger Christian drama of salvation, but one should also be aware of the extent to which the Hebrew cosmogony is responsible for and resonates with the modern Western exalted view of nature and the human person.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
The Christian Moral Imagination
I have used the phrase moral imagination in the college classroom for years. No, I am never certain students know what I mean. What I refer to is the way our story, especially in the Gospels and Paul's interpretation of Christ's paschal mystery, shapes the Christian to respond to moral conflict.
A moral dilemma might best be described as the conflict between two values. For example, the abortion dilemma concerns the clash between freedom of the host (pregnant woman) and the unborn's right to life.* The natural rights of life and freedom are at the top of most moral hierarchies.
To respond creatively to the dilemma -- that is, not simply a response determined by a rule book of moral do's-and-don'ts -- a person has to be shaped to see the possible. The apparent and the possible are not the same thing. The possible in the Christian story is modeled on (among other things) Jesus' self-emptying on behalf of others, the reversal of expectations in his Beatitudes, on the master washing his disciples' feet, the outcast choosing better than the elite, even the Hebrew midwives defying the embodied Egyptian god. Jesus's teaching -- love your enemies, do good to those who hate you -- his non-violent action, and the image of the slain lamb that conquers in the Apocalypse inspires one to not retaliate, to seek creative non-violent responses. This is the possible.
Both our vision -- that which we can see in-with-and-under the visual phenomena -- and our choices are shaped by our story. Yes, Christians use the Bible as a moral rule book, but I do not think this is the higher way. Perhaps the higher way is signaled in Jesus' parables, in which he defies the audience's expectations in favor of a creative response that more faithfully reflects the highest values. Jesus dis-orients us so that we can truly see the possible beyond the habitual.
Consider the example of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta: the possible was not simply whom to marry, family prosperity, etc. Rather, for her the possible was to empty herself on behalf of this world's wretched. She chose the option that our story opens to us. This creative choice is not simply doing her duty.
This is the Christian moral imagination: in the midst of moral conflict, the seeing and choosing of options only opened to us by our story. The Christian imagination is more than moral vision, but it is never less than a way of seeing, a worldview, that has been shaped by our story. Perhaps in another blog I will write more generally on the Christian imagination, which I call sacramental.
*It is not a clash, however, between the human rights of freedom and life because the pro- and anti- positions do not agree on what constitutes a human person. In other words, are the unborn "endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty"? If US citizens agreed on what constitutes a human life, there would likely be no moral dilemma because only the most extreme minority supports the killing of human beings. If the unborn are human beings, they have human rights. Abortion is not an option.
A moral dilemma might best be described as the conflict between two values. For example, the abortion dilemma concerns the clash between freedom of the host (pregnant woman) and the unborn's right to life.* The natural rights of life and freedom are at the top of most moral hierarchies.
To respond creatively to the dilemma -- that is, not simply a response determined by a rule book of moral do's-and-don'ts -- a person has to be shaped to see the possible. The apparent and the possible are not the same thing. The possible in the Christian story is modeled on (among other things) Jesus' self-emptying on behalf of others, the reversal of expectations in his Beatitudes, on the master washing his disciples' feet, the outcast choosing better than the elite, even the Hebrew midwives defying the embodied Egyptian god. Jesus's teaching -- love your enemies, do good to those who hate you -- his non-violent action, and the image of the slain lamb that conquers in the Apocalypse inspires one to not retaliate, to seek creative non-violent responses. This is the possible.
Both our vision -- that which we can see in-with-and-under the visual phenomena -- and our choices are shaped by our story. Yes, Christians use the Bible as a moral rule book, but I do not think this is the higher way. Perhaps the higher way is signaled in Jesus' parables, in which he defies the audience's expectations in favor of a creative response that more faithfully reflects the highest values. Jesus dis-orients us so that we can truly see the possible beyond the habitual.
Consider the example of Blessed Teresa of Calcutta: the possible was not simply whom to marry, family prosperity, etc. Rather, for her the possible was to empty herself on behalf of this world's wretched. She chose the option that our story opens to us. This creative choice is not simply doing her duty.
This is the Christian moral imagination: in the midst of moral conflict, the seeing and choosing of options only opened to us by our story. The Christian imagination is more than moral vision, but it is never less than a way of seeing, a worldview, that has been shaped by our story. Perhaps in another blog I will write more generally on the Christian imagination, which I call sacramental.
*It is not a clash, however, between the human rights of freedom and life because the pro- and anti- positions do not agree on what constitutes a human person. In other words, are the unborn "endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty"? If US citizens agreed on what constitutes a human life, there would likely be no moral dilemma because only the most extreme minority supports the killing of human beings. If the unborn are human beings, they have human rights. Abortion is not an option.
Monday, September 1, 2008
Yeshu-Rophay
My family has been listening to a popular Christian song, "Healer." Moreover, it has been meaningful to me as I think of a sister-in-Christ who is about to undergo cancer surgery. The song was written by an Australian man who mislead a great many sincere Jesus-people by claiming he was suffering with cancer. The song supposedly expressed his faith in Jesus-the-healer.
If there is no cancer, is Jesus still his healer? Well, yes, for this man confessed that his disease was really pornography. He said he could not get it out of his head. The viewer is certainly not simply a victim of pornography, but its impact is pernicious in one's imagination and more than one foresees. It is too easy to interpret pornography as a spiritual cancer -- thus reducing the real physical suffering of our loved ones -- but it is a malady that Christ heals by forgiveness, cleansing and inward transformation.
When I heard the news today of this man's deceit I wondered whether I could still listen to the song. My son said it is still a good song, but I am afraid it will always signify insincere devotion -- even though Christ must be my healer, my rophay, so I should be able to sing the song as if it reflects my own faith.
I need Christ the rophay. Perhaps the song will now always recall to me the extent to which I am spiritually lost, a prisoner of my will, locked away in my own darkness of spirit. "I believe you're my healer..."
I ask that you enlighten me
and dispel the darkness of my spirit.
Give me a faith that is without limit,
a hope that is unfailing,
and a love that is universal.
Grant, O my Lord,
that I may really know you
and that I might be guided in all things
according to your will.
[a slight revision of a Franciscan prayer]
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