Evangatology

Apocalypse now (well, tomorrow)

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Fri, 20 May 2011 15:13:00 +0000

What with the rapture happening tomorrow and the world descending into anarchy for five months, you might have some questions about the future. For any students concerned about whether they should bother continuing with their punishing revision schedule, the following site might provide some answers (with thanks to Steve Holmes for posting this on Facebook).

Doctor Who: Curse of the Black Spot

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Tue, 10 May 2011 08:48:00 +0000

After the increasingly dark and complex episodes that preceded it, “Black Spot” was a much more congenial run around; a continuity-light episode that would have fit in very well in the RTD era, and perhaps even the classic series. While in some respects this felt like a bit of a come-down after the intensity of what preceded it, Doctor Who has always been characterised by sudden changes in tone. Indeed, “Curse” operated like something of a palate cleanser for what look like an increasingly dark-to-gothic turn the show will take in the run up to the mid-series break. It helped of course, that it featured a stellar guest turn from Downton Abbey’s Hugh Bonneville sporting a quite tremendous beard.

Despite this supposed lightness, there were still several interesting themes emerging in the episode. Perhaps one I was less keen on was the examination of folklore. The Doctor’s deconstruction of mythology – that “folklore springs from truth” – is a bit of an out-dated anthropological statement. There is more to legend then simply finding explanations for the unexplained (thus the Doctor’s explanation of the curse: “It means bad things are happening but you can't be bothered to find an explanation.”). But then maybe we shouldn’t follow the Doctor’s theories at this point – for increasingly, he seems to be a figure somewhat out of control. As well as the mystery behind the eye-patch woman, this series seems to be setting up an interesting theme regarding the Doctor’s fallibility. His theories about the origins of the Siren are consistently, even dangerously, wrong (“ignore my last theory”/ “ignore all my theories!”); while previously in control, here he is overtaken by events. The TARDIS does not act in the expected way; the Siren’s existence cannot be adequately explained and (of course) both Amy and Rory know something that the Doctor does not: they have knowledge of the Doctor’s impending death. It seems to me that the Doctor is being increasingly drawn away from the “in the know” figure of last year, to one who is more likely to be at the mercy of events. It will be interesting to see where Neil Gaiman’s episode takes this next week.

Evangelical sermon illustration of the week: Step forward Captain Avery, a man who has to destroy his ill-gotten gains to save his son. Yet, faced with the possibility of losing his treasure, he retains a valuable crown and unleashes the siren. “You couldn’t give up the gold, could you?” an irate Doctor tells the Captain. Indeed – when we try to hang onto the treasures of this world, we often risk destroying those we love most in pursuit of worthless treasure. Jesus is the only treasure that will last – the one whom it is more valuable than all the treasures of this earth.

Doctor Who, Week by Week: The Impossible Astronaut

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Fri, 29 Apr 2011 16:14:00 +0000

Each week over the coming series, I plan on writing some thoughts on the themes emerging in that most beloved of series, "Doctor Who". Some of these will be academic and feed off of my research on the programme - others will be the mad ramblings of a fan. First up, "The Impossible Astronaut"

Time paradoxes, sexual innuendo and creatures from the pit of hell – it’s safe to say that “The Impossible Astronaut” had all the markers of a typical Stephen Moffat Doctor Who episode. While I’ve always found his writing top notch, I do sometimes worry that his themes (particularly solving problems through time travel) are becoming repetitive. What appeared clever in “Blink” and “The Big Bang” had well and truly lost its novelty value by the (still splendid) “Christmas Carol”. Yet “The Impossible Astronaut” posed a new dilemma; a potential game changer which appears to write the Doctor into an unresolvable situation. For the Doctor to escape his own death that most sacred of things – the Doctor’s own future timeline – will have to be rewritten.

This storyline is interesting for a number of reasons, but perhaps primarily because it brings us straight to what I’ve increasingly felt is the key difference between the Doctor as written by Moffat and the incarnations written by his predecessor Russell T. Davies. Davies’ Doctors were constrained by the invisible and inviolable laws of time. Rose’s act of saving her Dad in “Father’s Day” brought forth “Reapers” to cauterise the wounds in time – indeed, the ninth Doctor was always aware that history had a “right” pattern; a pre-determined path that needed to be maintained. Ironically, he was often the chief cause of this path’s destruction (as in the society paralysed by entertainment in “Bad Wolf\Parting of the Ways”). While David Tennant’s Doctor never had quite the same sense of history unfolding along the right path, he nonetheless knew better than to mess with the laws of time. To do so, as Sarah Jane warned him in “School Reunion” was to take on the mantle of a God. There is to be no reckless preservation, no continued false attachment to those things we love: “Everything has its time. And everything ends”. When the Doctor finally succumbs and grasps the Messianic title of “Time Lord triumphant”, claiming for himself the right to manipulate “fixed events” in the timeline, it makes him a monster. Adelaide Brooke’s suicide is the outcome that not only returns the time line to its “proper” course but also the Doctor to his senses (I’ve argued elsewhere on the potential messianic qualities of Davies’ Doctor – suffice to say, I think it’s a lot more complex than the presentation set forth here).

In comparison with this, Moffat’s Doctor seems relatively unconcerned. He uses time travel as a trick; a clever plot device to solve the problems inherent in the apparent death of Amy at the end of “The Pandorica Opens”. He entirely rewrites a man’s entire life in “A Christmas Carol” without seemingly thinking about the impact it might have on the timeline. In Davies’ Who if two people met within their own time stream they would create a universe challenging paradox. In Moffat’s it seems that there are few effects: Amy and Kazran can come into contact with their younger selves – can even hug – without so much as a ripple on the surface of the world. This is why the hints at the darker motivations of the Doctor and the highlighting of the potentially catastrophic consequences of crossing his own timeline fill me with anticipation. The difference between the Doctor as law abiding and as a creature who exists above the law is interesting, and I’m glad to see it being addressed. From a theological perspective, it also interests me as to why the Doctor dies. If Moffat constructs some kind of scenario in which the Doctor’s death is required (as to some extent, seen in the previous series) then there are some interesting implications for Christic symbolism within the series. But all this if for another day. I don’t know how we’ll get round the death of the Doctor, but I can’t wait to find out.

Getting cross?

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Wed, 02 Mar 2011 11:16:00 +0000

Lecture prep this week involves writing on the English reformation - always a controversial time (and steering a way through the confessional/revisionist/ post-revisionist scholarship is always entertaining), but one that brings up all kinds of questions about the sacramental and liturgical function (as well as the continuity) of the Anglican church. I don't think that it's any secret that I favour a more liturgically rigorous form of worship than that practised in the majority of Evangelical churches - perhaps something more along the lines of Cranmer's vision than that of Knox and Zwingli. In the past year I've begun to use the sign of the cross in my own personal devotions, a practice that has interesting historical, theological and practical liturgical roots. To my mind Nathan Bierma's article in "Christianity Today" sums up the many advantages of its use in both personal and public worship. Enjoy!

Bierma, "The Shape of Faith"

Pusey on the Eucharist

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Fri, 11 Feb 2011 16:05:00 +0000

I'm increasingly convinced that perhaps the greatest theological lack in Evangelical churches today is a lack of a thorough-going Eucharistic theology. Given the emphasis that the Reformers placed upon the doctrine this is perhaps surprising, although I wonder whether it springs both from a fear of appearing too Roman in orientation and a worry about preaching pure theology rather than in an expository style at mainstream services (understandable, given that much theology can be dull as dishwater when presented poorly). I'm currently preparing a lecture on the Oxford Movement and came across the quote from Pusey below. While never exactly a popular chap with Evangelicals, perhaps we could learn something from his beautiful statements on the sacrament:

"The Communion is not a mere going up of our hearts to Christ, but a coming down of Him to us. Well indeed may the ancient service bid us, 'lift up your hearts'; and well may we answer, 'we lift them up unto the Lord'. Well may we lift them up to meet the Lord, but it is to receive Him that we lift them up, not to embrace Him for ourselves. The outward emblems, bread and wine, which we see, would in themselves not lift us up to Christ, but depress us, except so far as we know them to be emblems and pledges, channels of Him and His Presence to our souls, as they are made to His Heavenly Body and Blood. Of themselves they are plainly slight and insufficient to convey any spiritual benefit. They are emblems of nothing but His humiliation, forms of earth, such as He took. They tell us that He, Very God, took upon Him a form of earth, and that that form was broken; their very breaking speaks His greater humiliation, and that to receive a humble Saviour, we must also be humbled; that we must not look to gain Him for ourselves, but bow ourselves to the earth, and pray Him to have pity upon and give life to our dust". Pusey, Parochial Sermons

Finding God in the Age of Adz

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 09:07:00 +0000

Sufjan Stevens’ new album, The Age of Adz (pronounced “Odz”) is an intriguing proposition. More electronic and experimental than its predecessors, it is also based (in part at least) on the work of schizophrenic outsider artist “Prophet Royal Robinson”, whose art drew heavily on themes of apocalypse and alien abduction. It’s an absurdly rich album (musically and lyrically) and I’m still trying to get my head around it. The highlight so far for me is “Vesuvius”, in which Stevens appears to use the titular volcano as an allegory for God. I’ve been lecturing on Augustine this week, and Stevens’ approach to the mountain mirrors the Bishop of Hippo’s own uncertainty when coming to God. Like any experience with the divine, Stevens’ emotions seem to move in wave of certainty and joy, distance and despair—shifting from clear sights of heaven to the total absence of God. The characterisation of God as a volcano (unstable, frightening yet alluring, “fire of fire”) is a powerful one, and as Stevens approaches the burning mountain he declares his own insecurity in its presence: “Vesuvius, I am here\You are all I have\ Fire of fire, I'm insecure\ For it has all, been made to plan”. Despite the fear that this encounter generates, he is resolute throughout. Seeking the “fire of fire” is fundamentally worth it: “For in life, as in death\ I’d rather be burned than live in debt”.

The song seems to proceed (again in startling Augustinian fashion) as an inner dialogue, with Stevens considering how he might relate to God. “Are you a ghost, or the symbols of light?” he wonders, as he eventually implores the volcano to “oh be kind”. It is here that he switches to addressing himself directly: “Sufjan, follow the path\ It leads to an article of eminent death\ Sufjan, follow your heart\ Follow the flame\ Or fall on the floor”. The reference to an eminent death, mixed with a number of references to the “host” throughout the song appears to point towards either a recollection of Christ’s sacrifice (an eminent death) or the fear of literal or metaphorical martyrdom. Yet just as he reaches the point of certainty, new doubts overwhelm the singer. He is faced with the reality of his inner life: “Sufjan, the panic inside\ The murdering ghost\That you cannot ignore”. This stark assessment of his attitude is not something new to this song. It reminded me of “John Wayne Gacy Jr.” on his 2005 album Illinois, in which Stevens ended the stark tale of a serial killer with the razor sharp statement: “Even in my best behaviour\ I’m really just like him\ Look beneath the floorboards\ For the secrets I have hid”.

Yet the existential crisis isn’t resolved at the end of the song. The murderous ghost fighting within Stevens continues. Where he had initially come to the volcano in person and announced that he was “here”, now he implores Vesuvius to follow him. The seeking is now out of his power. Seven times he repeats a call to “follow me now”, a number that I doubt is coincidental given the apocalyptic interest in the album as a whole. With his call ended, he issues a final plea that he is followed “now…or down” before breaking off in seeming desperation: “Why does it have to be so hard?” The separation from God may sound hopeless, but to my ears it sounds realistic – the experience of so many of us over our daily lives trying to seek and find Christ. To me, the song seems to echo Augustine’s lament in the Confessions:

“…because I am not full of you, I am a burden to myself. There is a struggle between joys over which I should be weeping and regrets at matters over which I ought to be rejoicing, and which side has the victory I do not know. There is a struggle between my regrets at my evil past and my memories of past joys, and which side has the victory I do not know...Is not human life on earth a trial in which there is no respite?” Confessions X.xxviii (39).

This seems to be the experience that Sufjan goes through in “Vesuvius”: loving and hating, finding and losing, seeking and being sought. The fact that there is no resolution is not surprising, for in the hardship of everyday life the rhythm of our relationship and attitude towards God will often seem to follow this same frustrating pattern. Yet I find comfort not only in the fact that this experience mirrors my own, but also in Stevens’ affirmation at the start of the song that we would all do well to remember. While stating his own weakness, at the end of the first verse he recalls: “Though I know I will fail\I can now be made to laugh”. As can we all. As can we all.

Some thoughts on absurdity

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 17:35:00 +0000

Let’s cut to the chase. The world of Christian eschatology can often be bafflingly mad. When you say (straight-faced, of course) that people were suspected of covert Papism for suggesting that the Pope might not be the Antichrist in seventeenth-century England, or that there are large numbers of people who currently believe that Obama is part of new world order plot to introduce Marxism to America and people laugh out loud at the absurdity of what you’ve just said, then you know you’ve been inside the eschatological bubble for far too long. The problem is that neither of these things seems that strange to me – both elicit as much surprise as a Louis Walsh moan on the X-Factor.

But even I was taken aback by “Rapture Orphan Rescue” (ROR), a site that promises to evangelise children after their parents have been raptured at the start of the tribulation period. How, you are wondering, does this work? For surely all Christians will be heaven – there will be nobody left to evangelise these children until the “tribulation saints” emerge? Well here’s the thing: the site is run by a group of “open-minded atheists and agnostics covering every state”. In the event of the rapture, said team will re-evaluate their beliefs and enjoy a startling conversion to the faith. At which point they will locate your child, care for them and share the good news of Jesus until they are saved. All of this comes at a cost: $195 to witness to a family member when they are of age (good deal!), $295 to also alert the emergency responders (wait – is that $100 for a 911 call?) and prevent the child taking the mark of the beast (oh, not such a bad deal then) or $1,000,000 for the 7 year omega package that includes immediate home invasion, safe houses in both alpha and omega stages (see what they’ve done there?) and continual evangelisation. If you don’t want to commit now, there’s a 30 day trial for only $4,995. A snip!

To be honest the concept is quite entertaining as a form of absurdist satire, although its ethics are dubious. On this point there is an informative interview with the site’s founder here that clears up his own religious background and that he’s not in it for the money. Having been involved in the deep and murky world of internet message boards I’ve had my share of discussions which could have come straight out of an Evelyn Waugh novel: my personal favourite remaining the debate on whether micro-chipping your dog was giving it the mark of the beast and thus damning it to hell. But I’m always nervous about giving the impression that the dispensational eschatological tradition is a home for freaks and weirdoes, “eschatomaniacs” as Mark Driscoll once labelled them. My real life experience with those in the movement has been hugely positive. The majority have been friendly, committed to doing God’s will and genuinely seeking Jesus. The thing that troubles me about “Rapture Orphan Rescue” is that it panders to the part of me that doesn’t want to recognise the normality of vast numbers of dispensationalists. It seeks (explicitly, in its recollection of doubting Thomas) the proof of God’s existence. When the absurdist façade is stripped away, we’re left with a site that challenges believers to place money against their certainty of their interpretation of eschatology. While the site’s founder doubts that any will accept the challenge, it nonetheless seems to be completely the wrong way to be seeking faith. It is looking for proofs of belief based around externals, not the internal witness of the spirit and certainty that what we believe is true without basing it upon this or that in the world. It denies that we require any kind of enabling grace to turn our inner eye upon Jesus. Of course, I’m sure the site’s founder would agree that this is exactly what he is doing. Whether we feel it is right or wrong depends upon our positions.

But there is one other thing that I feel that ROR genuinely achieves. It poses a difficult theological question that we would prefer to avoid – the fate of those who die young. The question of whether children are saved when they die before a notional age of responsibility is a serious one and its answers remains uncomfortably ambiguous for most of us. Answers are often sought outside of the Bible, even amongst those who deny any authority outside of the book on other occasions. I find this understandable, even if theologically inconsistent. The prospect of considering a son, daughter or sibling in hell is a horrific concept and one that I have personally struggled with following the death of my own sister. Certainly, the logical implication of a belief in the universal sinfulness of mankind at all ages leads us toward uncomfortable conclusions, even more so when if we brand prayer for the dead a heretical practice. I can’t offer any answers to the question myself – but needless to say the logic of this doctrine brings me up against the limits of what I can comfortably accept within my faith. ROR doesn’t offer any answers to the question – but it poses it, and calls believers to biblical consistency. Perhaps, this absurdity can lead us to consider the nature of our own beliefs, to re-evaluate and critically examine both our doctrines and the logical implications of these – what are the authorities we govern our life and faith by? Scripture, reason, or the Church? After all, isn’t this what the Bible, and a close walk with Jesus, calls us to anyway?

I'm not dead - and another blog

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Sat, 02 Oct 2010 14:45:00 +0000

Hello, anybody stumbling across this blog by accident. I'm still alive and haven't completly abandonned blogging. I've just been very busy of late and continue to be. All my blogging activities are currently directed at a course I'm running for the University of Manchester. If you're so inclined please check it out at http://corecourse2010.wordpress.com. I quite like the first post - I feel they can only go downhill from here. Professionally, I've been writing about the historiography of Christian Zionism (preparing for the AAR - can't wait!), Doctor Who (!) and keeping focused on seventeenth-century apocalypticism. Yep... that's never going to go.

I will probably write something more here over the coming weeks, whenever the spirit (or Spirit!) grabs me. My own faith journey is an interesting one at present - am I still Reformed, as I was two years ago when I began this blog? No. Am I still an Evangelical? Yes... although the utility of labels is something I'm never convinced of. I'm not ashamed to say that I also see plenty that is good (and when compared to Evangelicalism, is richer, deeper, more faithful) in Anglo-Catholicism and the Catholic church itself. This will all work its way out somewhere along the line, although this isn't a direction many seventeenth-century puritans would have been very happy with...

"The Cross was the place for your coronation speech"

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Fri, 02 Apr 2010 09:00:00 +0000

For Good Friday, I couldn't think of any better meditation than the following lyrics from singer-songwriter Bill Mallonee's beautiful song "Drunk on the Tears". Praying that all reading this have a blessed day celebrating Christ's sacrifice and his ultimate victory this Easter.

God I need a drink and I need one fast
Make it a strong one one that will last
Have you got anything that has been selling brisk
for a soul diagnosed at a terminal risk?

Jesus lover of my soul
Let me to thy bosom fly
I'm so weak and I'm so cold
The lambs in the west so speedily die.

Alibis roll off my tongue
I'm looking for ruins to hide among
I got a soul piled high to excess
with the wonderfully useless and the frivolous.

The praise due your name evades my lips
There's no helping hand on my fingertips
I used to be someone now I'm not worth a shit
I've got a truckload of things trying to forget.

Since back in the garden on the first page
Something about the cradle and the grave
The promises broken, more promises made
All in the image I've so defaced.

Played out on the pages of history
Dripping in blood that flows from a tree
Where the Father and Son part company
Come back together for you and me.

I don't know why you did it what was your motivation
Crucifixion's not a cool sensation
You had something to say and You started to speak
The cross was the place for Your coronation speech.

Bill Mallonee, "Drunk on the Tears"

For those who have access to Spotify, you can hear the full song here, recorded for the 1990 album Jugular with Mallonee's band Vigilantes of Love: Vigilantes Of Love – Drunk On The Tears

Holy Week Meditations #4

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 11:37:00 +0000

Even God I saw, the Creator, all-sufficient in himself and blessed for ever. And man, a worm, a wretch before him. Yet this great God vouchsafes to send embassage to us weak men to entreat conditions of peace and to off the blood of his own Son to be shed, who was the ambassador to confirm the league of peace twixt him and us. Was there ever any love like this and wonderful! O the Ocean of comfort! O endless love, how should this confirm weak consciences. How can we doubt that the Lord will fail his, when he hath done this for them all ready! O let us render love for love that we be not worse than publicans and sinners, who love those that love them.

Thomas Brightman, Brightman Redivivus

Holy Week Meditations #3

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Wed, 31 Mar 2010 10:38:00 +0000

For the cross, if you wish to define it, is the confirmation of the victory, the way by which God to man descended, the trophy against material spirits, the repulsion of death, the foundation of the ascent to the true day; and the ladder for those who are hastening to enjoy the light that is there, the engine by which those who are fitted for the edifice of the Church are raised up from below, like a stone four square, to be compacted on to the divine Word. Hence it is that our kings, perceiving that the figure of the cross is used for the dissipating of every evil, have made vexillas, as they are called in the Latin language. Hence the sea, yielding to this figure, makes itself navigable to men. For every creature, so to speak, has, for the sake of liberty, been marked with this sign; for the birds which fly aloft, form the figure of the cross by the expansion of their wings; and man himself, also, with his hands outstretched, represents the same. Hence, when the Lord had fashioned him in this form, in which He had from the beginning framed him, He joined on his body to the Deity, in order that it might be henceforth an instrument consecrated to God, freed from all discord and want of harmony. For man cannot, after that he has been formed for the worship of God, and hath sung, as it were, the incorruptible song of truth, and by this hath been made capable of holding the Deity, being fitted to the lyre of life as the chords and strings, he cannot, I say, return to discord and corruption.

- Methodius, Homily on the Cross and the Passion of Christ

Holy Week Meditations #2

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Tue, 30 Mar 2010 08:34:00 +0000

Therefore, by remitting sins, He did indeed heal man, while He also manifested Himself who He was. For if no one can forgive sins but God alone, while the Lord remitted them and healed men, it is plain that He was Himself the Word of God made the Son of man, receiving from the Father the power of remission of sins; since He was man, and since He was God, in order that since as man He suffered for us, so as God He might have compassion on us, and forgive us our debts, in which we were made debtors to God our Creator. And therefore David said beforehand, "Blessed are they whose iniquities are forgiven, and whose sins are covered. Blessed is the man to whom the Lord has not imputed sin;" pointing out thus that remission of sins which follows upon His advent, by which "He has destroyed the handwriting" of our debt, and "fastened it to the cross;" so that as by means of a tree we were made debtors to God, [so also] by means of a tree we may obtain the remission of our debt.

- Irenaeus, Against Heresies V.XVI.3

Holy Week Meditations #1

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 10:53:00 +0000

This week I thought that I'd post a short meditation on Christ's passion each day. Taken from various sources (Church Fathers, Puritans, contemporary singer-songwriters), I hope they help us in thinking through exactly what Jesus and his sacrifice have meant to Christians throughout the ages. The first is an excerpt from Ignatius' "Epistle to the Ephesians". I'll be posting a fresh one each day up until Easter sunday, as well as (shock horror!) doing some actual blogging as well.

Let my spirit be counted as nothing for the sake of the cross, which is a stumbling-block to those that do not believe, but to us salvation and life eternal. "Where is the wise man? where the disputer?" Where is the boasting of those who are styled prudent? For our God, Jesus Christ, was, according to the appointment of God, conceived in the womb by Mary, of the seed of David, but by the Holy Ghost. He was born and baptized, that by His passion He might purify the water.

The cross of Christ is indeed a stumbling-block to those that do not believe, but to the believing it is salvation and life eternal. "Where is the wise man? where the disputer?" Where is the boasting of those who are called mighty? For the Son of God, who was begotten before time began, and established all things according to the will of the Father, He was conceived in the womb of Mary, according to the appointment of God, of the seed of David, and by the Holy Ghost. For says [the Scripture], "Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and He shall be called Immanuel." He was born and was baptized by John, that He might ratify the institution committed to that prophet.

The Epistle of Ignatius to the Ephesians, XVIII

Apocalypse and Millennium in "Doctor Who"

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Wed, 24 Mar 2010 13:57:00 +0000

This post has been removed as I hope to edit and expand it for publication. Please drop me an email if you'd like to read it!

Guns for Jesus

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 10:27:00 +0000

Good grief! I just ran across the following story on the BBC website:

"Coded references to biblical passages are inscribed on gunsights widely used by the US and British military in Iraq and Afghanistan, it has emerged.

The markings include "2COR4:6" and "JN8:12", relating to verses in the books of II Corinthians and John."

Now I'm not a complete pacificist. I do not object to Christians serving in the armed forces, or even the (sometimes unavoidable) need for war in certain situations. But reading "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." whilst lining up somebody's head in your crosshairs seems to be the antithesis of the gospel to me, springing from a misguided crusading attitude of "us vesus the infidel". The 2 Corinthians passage might even be worse. The image of a shooting someone's face off while reading "Let light shine out of the darkness" sounds like something out of a Tarrantino movie. It plugs into a whole evangelical sub-culture which sees contemporary western versions of masculinity as being the true representation of Christ - beer and guns and muscles, oh my!

On the plus side, that's my illustration of the militaristic view of Christ done for this Sunday's sermon...

Hauerwas and the Future of the University

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 17:22:00 +0000

The recent assessment of the importance of “impact” in securing research funding, and (slightly older) discussions of Peter Mandelson’s approach to University education raised some interesting questions for me. As business secretary Mandelson has responsibility for the government’s university policy and is pushing the “student as customer” model hard. In short, this means that students should choose the University which gives them the best job prospects at the end of their course – which trains them to be the best (and most productive) citizens.

This put me in mind of Stanley Hauerwas’s recent critique of higher education in his State of the University. I cannot do justice to Hauerwas’s subtle argument here, but in short he argues that the current university system acts as a tool of the state. Rather than produce students who can critique and engage with the apparatus of the state, we instead train students who best serve the needs of the dominant mode of western, individualist thought. Mandelson’s approach just makes this specific – the university exists to produce students to keep the cogs of the nation turning. The success of a course is not to be measured in academic achievement, in the ways it trains students to think, but rather in how much money the student can expect to make at the end of their studies.

Of course, I’m not (well, not too) naïve – students should expect to make a living at the end of their studies. There is always going to be a place for technical training in tertiary education. Mandelson’s thought is certainly not completely without merit. I agree, for example, that students should be at the centre of what we do as academics. There should be more teaching hours, more contact, and more openness to view teaching not as a distraction from our research, but instead as a chance to excite students about our subject areas. Yet the danger is that in this consumer culture the role of academic thought as thought is lost – that universities shy away from promoting different (and challenging) thinking on subjects which are not felt to be economically beneficial. As Braben notes, the worry is that students (customers?) will take the easiest root; that they will see the degree not as something that is earned but as something which is purchased. In this model, the danger is that the education becomes the victim of the current political or economic fads. If the study of history, literature or religion (or more specifically, any of these things in a certain period) is not seen as “useful” in the politico-economic then the justification for further cuts becomes apparently self-evident. This would be a shame, as in my (admittedly limited) teaching experience the majority of students are hungry to learn, excited by their subject and appreciative of the courses offered to them.

Perhaps more serious is the role of the Christian within this structure. For if Hauerwas is right (and I think he is) that the role of the Christian within the university is to disavow the Constantinian link between church and state, acting as a prophetic voice in speaking to both God’s people and the state itself, then the increased emphasis on the university as an explicit servant of the state can only be a negative thing. The philosophy which Mandelson espouses is doubtless already present in many universities. The challenge, as both academics and as Christians, is to provide the most academically robust education possible whilst being willing to prophetically challenge those parts of society which are not in accord with Christ’s gospel.

"The Life of the World to Come"

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 19:24:00 +0000

The problem with “Christian Contemporary Music”, as I’ve often articulated to those who are bored enough to listen, is that it’s far, far too obvious. While there’s a place for songs which simply sing the Bible back to us, or rephrase important theological truths, this seems (within evangelical circles) to have extended a little too far. Christian music aimed outside of the “Praise and Worship” category all too often adopts the tired bombast of whatever is currently pleasing American radio listeners and mixes it with trite theological summaries. The question which “CCM” always raised for me was why it should be considered a separate category of music at all. As Christians our attitude to art should surely not force a false secular/sacred dichotomy. Surely our artistic endeavours should be produced as an overflow of our relationship with Christ – an overflow which will express itself not in simple textual repetition of the Bible, but in a dynamic expression of that encounter. This will, I suppose, produce poetry, abstract works, even expressions which might traditionally be classified as “mystical”. Some of the best Christian artists working today (see Sufjan Stevens, Bodies of Water, The Innocence Mission, The Welcome Wagon, Bill Mallonee) reflect this kind of encounter in their lyrics – expressions and stories which strike the listener as initially destabilising and potentially allegorical, but eventually relocate us in a way in which we encounter Christ and experience God’s presence in a new (and unexpected) way.

A wonderful example of this kind of radical re-imagining and response to (specifically) the Bible is the fantastic new Mountain Goats record, “The Life of the World to Come”. John Darnielle, the singer-songwriter who largely comprises the ‘Goats has produced twelve tracks based around different scripture verses. Although not overtly Christian himself (at least not in the sense many Evangelicals would define the term), Darnielle’s work offers a fresh (and often heartbreaking) look at a something of what the Bible can say into contemporary culture. These, it won’t surprise you to learn, are not composed of exegesis – instead Darnielle has constructed beautifully detailed vignettes flowing from the text as a starting point; “twelve hard lessons the Bible taught me, kind of” in his own words. Take “Genesis 3:23” for example. The exile from Eden becomes a meditation on the return to an old house to “see how the people here live now/ Hope that they’re better at it than I was”. Forced to pick the locks to enter, Darnielle muses on the failures and disappointments of dashed hopes. Returning to his own home he, like Adam and Eve, is forced to contemplate the newly open and uncertain world. Even the stars now appear “like teeth in the mouth of a shark”.

The album often produces the most unexpected readings. Take, for example, “Deuteronomy 2:10”. The verse recalls the strength of the now dead Emites, which Darnielle re-tells through the story of a soon to be extinct flightless bird, musing on the impermanence of its own nature (“I sang all night/ the moon shone only through the trees/ No brothers left/ There’ll be no more after me”). The final track “Ezekiel 7 and the Permanent Efficacy of Grace” (which wins points as the most theological title of the year) is a stark reminder of final judgement. The verse (subtitled “The End is Come” in the NIV) deals with “Disaster! An unheard of disaster is coming!” (Ezk. 7:5). The narrator of the song, clearly aware of his own criminal guilt (“I had his arms tied up behind him”), attempts to flee the judgement he knows is coming (“Drive till the rain stops…keep driving”) all the while aware of what is approaching (“The clouds explode, the desert blooms”).

If that seems a little morose, then there are plenty of happier moments as well. “Philippians 3:20-21” is a meditation on the difficulties of theological knowledge. The tale of a man who spent his life seeking theological truth, Darnielle examines the responses of those left behind (“The nice people said he’d gone to God now”), whilst examining the uncertainty of all theological knowledge. “Well the path to the palace of wisdom/ that the mystics walked/ is lined with neurologists and electric shocks,” Darnielle reminds all professional theologians. In the context of this verse, this seems to be a plea to stop worrying about theological minutiae which will eventually drive us insane, instead trusting in God. Most inspiring of all (from a personal point of view) is Romans 10:9. The tale of a man who is at the end of his tether is couched as a wonderful inner monologue attacking his own depression. “Try to fix myself, but everything seems to end up in a cul de sac” he admits, before finally confessing that while “everything looks burned up” he will “make a joyful sound”. That sound is, unsurprisingly, Romans 10:9 itself: “If you will believe in your heart, and confess with your lips, surely you will be saved one day”. As a statement of hope in the face of uncertainty, hope against hope, it stands as one of the most inspirational songs I’ve heard in years.

I could go on, analysing every song on this majestic record, but I’ll end here. The artistic approach adopted by Darnielle strikes me as hermeneutically and artistically interesting, and as providing the necessary counterpoint to the identikit responses to the Bible which often pass themselves off as Christian music.

An Update

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 18:39:00 +0000

For those wondering where I've been, I just thought I'd confirm that I've not been infected with swine flu, abducted by aliens, or swiftly despatched by a New World Order marksman. I've simply been too busy to blog over the past couple of months. The good (?) news is that I will be submitting my PhD within the next two weeks, if all goes to plan. After that, updates should be more regular, though whether the content will be any good is anyone's guess. One thing I will be posting is a seminar paper on "Doctor Who and Derrida" that I'll be working on post-submission.

In the mean time, everybody should read Steve Holmes' thoughtful analysis of what it means to be Reformed in a theological world dominated by the Piper's and Driscoll's. Steve, as usual, articulates things in a far better way than I could ever hope to.

St. Augustine on Superstition

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Fri, 13 Mar 2009 13:56:00 +0000

Happy Friday 13th! Here's what Augustine has to say on superstition:

To these we may add thousands of the most frivolous practices, that are to be observed if any part of the body should jump, or if, when friends are walking arm-in-arm, a stone, or a dog, or a boy, should come between them. And the kicking of a stone, as if it were a divider of friends, does less harm than to cuff an innocent boy if he happens to run between men who are walking side by side. But it is delightful that the boys are sometimes avenged by the dogs; for frequently men are so superstitious as to venture upon striking a dog who has run between them,--not with impunity however, for instead of a superstitious remedy, the dog sometimes makes his assailant run in hot haste for a real surgeon. To this class, too, belong the following rules: To tread upon the threshold when you go out in front of the house; to go back to bed if any one should sneeze when you are putting on your slippers; to return home if you stumble when going to a place; when your clothes are eaten by mice, to be more frightened at the prospect of coming misfortune than grieved by your present loss. Whence that witty saying of Cato, who, when consulted by a man who told him that the mice had eaten his boots, replied, "That is not strange, but it would have been very strange indeed if the boots had eaten the mice." - De Doctrina, 2.20.31

I'd add more commentary, but somebody sneezed when I was putting on my slippers this morning. I'll let you know when I'm out of bed.

The Apocalyptic Tone

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 12:56:00 +0000

Whilst writing up my PhD stops me from writing anything insightful here (no change there then!), the recent doom and gloom predictions regarding the economy which are floating around at the moment had me in mind of the following Derrida quote, taken from his article, "Of an Apocalyptic Tone recently adopted in Philosophy". It seems to encapsulate the current media fixation quite nicely:

"Haven’t all the differences taken the form of a going-one-better in eschatological eloquence, each newcomer, more lucid than the other, more vigilant and more prodigal too than the other, coming to add more to it: I tell you this in truth; this is not only the end of this here but also the first of that there, the end of history, the end of class struggle, the end of philosophy, the death of God…the end of man, the end of the West, the end of Oedipus, the end of the earth, Apocalypse now, I tell youn, in cataclysm, the fire, the blood, the fundamental earthquake, the napalm descending from the sky by helicopters, like prostitutes, the nuclear thunder and the great whoring… the end of the university, the end of phallocentrism and pallogocentrism, and I don’t know what else? And whoever would come to refine, to tell the extreme of the extreme, namely the end of the end… that person would, whether wanting to or not, participate in the concert”

Just when you thought you'd seen it all...

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 17:23:00 +0000

For those who, like me, find pleasure in the absurd, Japan seems to be the gift that keeps on giving. Without any further ado I present the following piece of sushi art, the very ludicrousness of which brought a huge smile to my face:

George Herbert, "Denial"

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Fri, 20 Feb 2009 11:19:00 +0000

George Herbert is pretty much my favourite seventeenth-century poet. While I have a lot of time for Donne, and even more for Marvell (who, after all, references the "conversion of the Jews", slipping in some eschatology under the radar), neither of them approaches the broad devotion and frankness which I find in Herbert's work.

My current favourite is his "Denial", a meditation on those times when God's face is like flint and hidden from us. I love the comparison Herbert makes in the poem: both mind and verse are disconsolate until God's intervention in the final stanza. There's therefore a lovely rhyming scheme which is consistently frustrated up until the final couplet, when God "mends my rime". Partly, however, I find Herbert's poem describes exactly how I currently feel in my walk with God. I'm not sure whether this is as a result of over work, or a symptom of something more serious, with the following becoming something of a prayer for me. Hopefully the cloud will break in the desert soon. Anyway, on to Herbert:

When my devotions could not pierce
Thy silent ears;
Then was my heart broken, as was my verse:
My breast was full of fears
And disorder:

My bent thoughts, like a brittle bow,
Did fly asunder:
Each took his way; some would to pleasures go,
Some to the wars and thunder
Of alarms.

As good go any where, they say,
As to benumb
Both knees and heart, in crying night and day,
Come, come, my God, O come,
But no hearing.

O that thou shouldst give dust a tongue
To cry to thee,
And then not hear it crying! all day long
My heart was in my knee,
But no hearing.

Therefore my soul lay out of sight,
Untuned, unstrung:
My feeble spirit, unable to look right,
Like a nipped blossom, hung
Discontented.

O cheer and tune my heartless breast,
Defer no time;
That so thy favors granting my request,
They and my mind may chime,
And mend my rime.

Christian Buses: The death of constructive dialogue

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Thu, 05 Feb 2009 15:00:00 +0000

I quite like George Hargreaves. I once sat next to him at church, and discussed the finer points of song writing and tunings for acoustic guitars. Little did I realise that he had previously penned chart busting gay anthem “So Macho”, while I had only penned four chord comedy songs about chavs fighting on public transport. He gave me his card and a handshake, and I thought little more of it. This was, of course, before he burst into wider public consciousness in the wearying Channel Four concept show “Make Me a Christian”. The idea (and you can be forgiven for blotting this from your minds) was that a hardcore team of clergy would help unlikely converts (Lesbians! Bikers! Sexaholics!) live a life of faith for a month or so. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t really work – but then, as Calvin would have been the first to tell you, we can’t “make” anybody a Christian anyway.

The Rev. Hargreaves is back in the news today, as he leads the fight back against Richard Dawkins’ Atheist bus scheme. I’ve dealt with why this scheme was slightly ridiculous in a post last year (and Steve Holmes has done so much more thoroughly here), and I had hoped, truth be told, that the entire sorry saga would be forgotten about soon. Unfortunately, we (and by that, I mean Christians) have decided to respond in kind. As Mark Sweney details in today’s Guardian, Hargreaves is at the forefront of a number of new atheist baiting arguments. “There definitely is a God. So join the Christian Party and enjoy your life!” is his slogan of choice, and one which I fear will fall foul of Advertising Standards Agency rules. After all, the Atheists had to run with “There’s probably no God” due to the fact they couldn’t conclusively prove that God didn’t actually exist. I imagine the same rules apply to any claim that there definitely is a God. The Russian Orthodox Church’s slogan “There IS a God. BELIEVE. Don’t worry and enjoy your life” will probably fall into the same problem. Which leaves us with our old friends at the Trinitarian Bible Society. Obviously keen not to offend, they’ve decided to run with Psalm 53:1: “The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God”. The drawbacks to this approach are obvious. It is somewhat akin to the Humanist Society plastering Dawkin’s assertion that “Faith is one of the world's great evils, comparable to the smallpox virus” on the side of buses. The context of scripture, the fact that the word “fool” usually refers to moral failings, the principles of evangelism are forgotten, as the Society try to make their point with a pithy quote.

I believe that we risk destroying our credibility, as evangelicals, as a church (in a broad sense) by responding in kind to these attacks upon us. Dialogue is lost. Argument and intellectual vitality is undermined and subsumed in a mass of sound bites and proof texts. The academy, the debating hall, the reasoned argument is abandoned in favour of a slogan which captures the party line; the pithy phrase which ridicules the other side and returns us to our own camp with a self indulgent glow. A glance at the “comments” section on this story at the Guardian website reduces me to despair. There is no civility to the debate. No acceptance that, while we may approach the question from different intellectual horizons, that we might each bring something to the table. Christians are “lunatics” or “idiots”, while Atheists are “unfeeling” or “stupid”. This is no surprise, of course. The “comments” threads on news sites usually act like a black hole, sucking up any passing junk and preserving it, frozen for eternity, as a monument to ignorance and stupidity. But these comments are symptomatic of a debate conducted through Dawkin’s rhetoric. The idea that faith has ever contributed anything positive is immediately dismissed and discarded, theology (as a discipline) is discarded as worthless and outmoded. If Dawkins took time to engage with the numerous modes of discourse available in the theological tradition, then perhaps a constructive dialogue could be built.

But are we any better ourselves? As Evangelicals, do we take the high ground? The ridiculous polemic of Mark Driscoll and co. suggests to me that we don’t. “No compromise” is often recast “as no common sense” and dialogue gets lost in demonization of the other side. Maybe there will be a movement within the evangelical base which shifts away from this, and seeks constructive dialogue with other Christian traditions, and even with those we oppose. Sadly, though, I anticipate that many Evangelicals would see this as selling out, preferring to adopt a hardline us and them dichotomy and culture war approach. Maybe I’m wrong, but I fear that we will be doomed to trade insults across buses for all eternity.

New Michael Jensen blog

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 19:25:00 +0000

Michael Jensen is always an insightful and entertaining read (see his post on Calvin's hermeneutics last week for evidence). His new blog, with the rather tongue-in-cheek title "Defence Against the Dark Arts", is now online at Sydney Anglicans. Focusing on the "busy intersection of Theology, Culture, Ethics and Politics", it should produce some interesting work over the coming months. I look forward to some good commentary on one of my favourite themes, from one of my favourite bloggers. Do check it out!

Chuck Norris on Rick Warren

noreply@blogger.com (Andrew Crome) — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 19:59:00 +0000

These must be the last days. What other explanation, I wonder, would lead me to write the following words? But write them I will: go here for Chuck Norris' thoughtful theologically based analysis of Rick Warren's inaugural prayer. It's hardly going to have Augustine sweating, but it's actually quite good.

If this trend continues, I wonder, could the Hauerwas/Norris bout we've been dreaming of become a reality? We can only hope...