Framing environmental crisis in terms of feminism and the urgency of our functional role

To frame environmental issues in terms of feminism and the feminine is also, I believe, problematic, not because feminism has nothing to contribute, but because it represents the anthropocentrism we've been discussing. The moment we hone our sights on issues of patriarchy and gender inequality (as important and relevant as these problems are to any discussion of humanity's alienation to the ways of Physis), our concerns become exclusively human; we become bogged down in the endless conversations surrounding inequalities in human society, and our language continues to reflect the fundamental error of radical Nomos. We are suddenly no longer concerned with the victims hardest hit by human abuse of the natural world, and our hearts are not breaking for the immense suffering of this world, which instead of alleviating as we were intended to, we have by our greed and alienation exacerbated. Our compassion is disrupted, and instead of filling a key cognitive function of the cosmos. We become so concerned with issues of Nomos that we are prevented from performing our functional role in the creative intentions of the universe (Thomas Berry language).

Issues of Nomos such as gender inequality and patriarchy are not unimportant or unworthy of discussion; they are vitally bound up in man's inhumanity to man (as some have called it), and they should be talked about and explored in order for human life to flourish more abundantly. However, it is a harsh truth that we have a job to do, and if we cannot do it, we will be phased out and replaced. The paperwork at the desk is piling up, and has been piling up for centuries. We have only recently reached the level of maturity required to begin tackling the enormity of this mounting task, and if we cannot or will not assume our responsibilities, the human experiment will fail and the universe will wipe the slate clean to start again. Our place at the table of life is at stake. But as regards human issues that turn our gaze away from Physis, we must eventually come to the harsh realization that procrastinating in our functional role is a luxury we can no longer afford to indulge in. Time is running out, whether we have managed to address our internal Nomos problems or not. Physis has waited, but no longer, and it does not care that we are still plagued by issues of economic and social inequality. A storm does not care what state your house is in when it threatens to blow it all down. Our house, Nomos itself, will be blown down by our neglect, whether we've managed to set it in order or not. We can no longer afford to defer our observation of duty. We have a job to do, and the universe is calling, asking why we are late. Our job is at stake. Our very existence is at stake. What is our answer?

To quote Jane Goodall, "the greatest danger to our future is apathy."

The Anthropocentric Narcissistic Gaze and Radical Nomos as Mirror

If humanity is trapped in a narcissistic gaze, then radical Nomos is the mirror, the lens through which humanity understands itself as the most important set of creatures in God's creation, the “dominant species” of this planet.

Nature is the great, universal corrective; when we get stuck in our anthropocentric narcissism, we can turn to Physis to get perspective on where we stand. The Romantic poets did this, and liberation theologians of the future must do the same. All it takes is one earnest look away from the mirror for a person to become cognizant of where they stand in relation to things.

The preciousness of life on a cosmic scale

Are there other life-experiments in the stars, as there is here on Earth? Possibly. But I believe it best if we assume that life exists nowhere else. Not necessarily because it is true or even probable, but because given what we know about life, we know it is precious. We should act and behave as if all live in the universe is in mortal danger; we should be gripped in deep horror on an individual and cosmic scale when we think that if all life on earth disappears, then all reflection, all perspective, all consciousness would disappear with it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lxXyTrdgJKg

Watch the bits near the end.

Radical Nomos, living off the land, and autonomous labor

Since the Industrial Revolution (and especially following the global "victory" of capitalism over communism), we've operated under the assumption that sprawling industrial settings and cities are necessary for progress. And for a time, it could be argued that they were.

But they are not necessary anymore. Massive population centers and industry are necessary for the accumulation of capital, but not survival or living comfortably. Power companies? Don't need them; modern technology makes possible the self-sufficient and self-sustaining household. Automation promises a future where most of the hard work of living off the land can be relegated to autonomous labor, freeing human beings to be more focused in their tasks and interests.

The point is that radical Nomos perpetuates itself, but the only reward for all the effort is more capital, which is only useful to Nomos; the result is an ever growing flow of hypothetical resources that have no worth outside of Nomos, solidifying the erroneous assumption that Nomos is the primary reality and that Physis, if it is to be considered at all, is merely tertiary. But this is not true. It's delusion. It's insanity.

People could live quite comfortably, integrated with the life-processes of the earth, by the grace of Physis and the modest ingenuity of Nomos and its implementation of autonomous labor...but there is no capital to be gained from this. Radical Nomos will not tolerate a world where a person can live happily, prosperously and independently off of the land. And that is why the powers-that-be will do everything in their power to keep you dependent upon and integrated into the unsustainable economy of radical Nomos.

Human Reproduction has become a privilege, not a right.

What was true yesterday is not necessarily true today. This statement is not just common sense, it's also in keeping with what we hold to be true about the scientific method, in light of which yesterday's theory is today's law, or possibly vice versa. Tillich's sense of dynamism comes to mind as well, since nothing is static or still for long, and we must revise our sense of place in the world from time to time. There is nothing insidious or threatening in this as long as we are not insecure in our understanding of the world and our place in it. It is perfectly natural to see the world with new eyes when the sun dawns on a different day.

What is not natural is our modern (I use the historical term very deliberately) collective relationship with the world of Physis (the world of natural law). At one point in our existence, we were just one species out of many, caught up in the endless back and forth of teetering between survival and extinction. Like any intelligent creature, we feared the real possibility that our light could be extinguished, that we could go hungry or thirsty, that we might not have shelter, that we might at any moment be wiped out at nature's thunderous caprice. Given that we are a manifestation of life different from our brethren, we expressed our desire to hold death and meaninglessness at bay differently; we did not merely seek shelter or hunt in packs, but crafted tools, formed systems of agriculture, social organization, and found within our being as homo symbolicus the utility of symbolism and ritual. These tools helped us evolve into a creature capable not only of withstanding the elements with reasonable success, but also of expressing in transcendental terms our desire to survive: "Be fruitful and multiply." It was true in those days of risk that human beings might succumb to the natural entropy of the universe, overturned in waves of dynamism, another failed experiment of the cosmos.

But we did not fail to survive. In fact, we slowly learned to appreciate and harness the Promethean Fire gifted to us by the cosmos. We built fences to not only keep out predators, but to protect our livestock. We learned the art of harvesting both mineral and biological supplies, providing ourselves with durable materials and the means of healing and prolonging life. We discovered how to manipulate the environment to produce even greater crop yield, which we stored in granaries. As time went on, we realized that we could not only produce enough to get by, but could also extract extra profit. We did not merely survive; we thrived. The shackles imposed on all creatures, which functioned to promote balance and healthy ecology in the community of being, no longer held us down. This was by no means a bad thing, as it signaled that we were coming into our own as the elder siblings that the cosmos intended us to be. There was potential for Nomos (the world of human law and convention) to be a higher expression of the truths of Physis and even being itself, for of all living things, we were in the best position to be the universe made conscious of itself.

As history shows, however, humanity was not content with collective survival. The excess goods extracted from the gracious earth became understood in terms of monetary wealth, a category of Nomos that has no meaning in the broader reality of Physis. Human society shifted and altered its internal processes to reflect the valuation of wealth, which became an expression of assured personal survival. The village and town gave way to the city, where industry and wealth superseded mere survival.

The formation of these cities would not be possible without a boom in population. "Be fruitful and multiply" became the creed of humanity, whether thematically or unthematically, and as it does in any creature, the instinct to reproduce remained, even in times of plenty. Physis still posed certain threats to humanity and the artifice of Nomos they created, so there was no concept of necessary limitation or self-imposed restraint in anyone's mind. Why should the human population plateau when it could grow, especially with the advent of military institutions and political tensions with a growing number of neighbors? Political pragmatism, ritual, socio-economic necessity, and instinct all combined in an overwhelming human reproductive drive.

We had every right to continue to exist as a species, as any species does. Reproduction is, at least initially, the right of all living things. But where other creatures, given the manifold dangers of Physis, reproduced out of necessity for survival, human beings began to reproduce for reasons other than survival. Once Nomos was firmly established and the city became commonplace on the earth, survival was no longer in question. The new collective motive for reproduction, slowly and unthematically, was the goal of out-performing neighboring civilizations. Whether it meant breeding a large population of workers, warriors, or believers, most nations in recorded history sought to match or overshadow the growth of their rivals. Despite all instinct to the contrary, reproduction ceased to be a category of Physis for human beings, but rather one of Nomos. It was no longer about surviving the elements and having enough to get by, or even about having enough to thrive; it was about living into the assumption that Nomos, not Phyisis, was the dominant reality, and that humanity was the lord of that reality.

This has all been a very roundabout way of saying that human reproduction was once a right, but this is tragically no longer the case. What was true then is not necessarily true now. We live in a time when a single species has overcome nearly every coping mechanism and buffer Physis has to maintain balance among living things; we have learned how to effectively combat diseases and prolong the human life expectancy, how to comfortably endure the elements, how to predict weather patterns, how to subjugate even the most vicious predator, and how to extract all the wealth of the world from its own economy and inject it into ours. Humanity enjoys a bigger slice of the pie than the cosmos originally ordained. Human reproduction was once a right, as it is the right of all living creatures, but we are no mere living creature, being capable of more ecological damage than any pack of predators. What was true at the dawn of Nomos is not true at the height of Nomos' dominion; human reproduction is not a right, but a privilege, one all too easily abused.

Our Promethean Fire, our ability to manipulate the environment to our own benefit has elevated us above our siblings in the family of being, and it has done so to the point of excess. We have broken our chains and gone mad with the power in our grasp, and Physis can do precious little to put a cap on our growth. The earth was not prepared to accommodate a species as numerous and all-consuming as humanity is. We number in the billions now, and the population is only expected to grow. It is too quickly forgotten or dismissed that every human being on this planet is another person eating, drinking, defecating, and buying into economic systems that objectify and abuse our fellow creatures. There is little to no thematic malice towards nature in the individual person, yes, but that is irrelevant in that Nomos today has become radicalized into an expression of egotism and greed, which Physis can only interpret as malice. Even something as sacred and beautiful as the miracle of birth can be perverted into an extension of that malice.

We have unwittingly inflicted a great violence upon ourselves. In a world where so many children are born without parents and so many adult partners are unable to naturally procreate, I believe that adoption should become increasingly normative. It should also be mourned that well meaning prospective parents capable of natural procreation should no longer act on their longing with impunity. We have created a world where I cannot make my dream of being a biological father a reality, and I am deeply grieved at this loss of possibility. In order to live fully into my humanity as the cosmos intended, I must deny myself the comforts and pleasures of parenthood, or at least parenthood by conventional means. This is one more instance of the heartbreak and evil that is radical Nomos. It has been said in the Christian traditions that sin is that which perverts and corrupts what God created good. Radical Nomos is similar in that it is a systemic sin which perverts and corrupts human reproduction. It should be the indisputable right of every person to experience the magic of bringing a life into this world, but radical Nomos degrades this right into a privilege that cannot be guaranteed. This is one more reason out of many to bring down radical Nomos and rediscover our purpose as the benefactors and protectors of life in the universe.

Reading notes from Aquino interpreted eco-theologically

The following is something I realized when reading Jorge Aquino on the subject of Mestizaje in Latino/a Theology. Mestizaje, roughly understood, is the history of exploitation, conquest, and suffering experienced by Hispanics and mixed race at the hands of Eurocentric colonialism. The problem was originally framed in the context of race, but I find this ultimately too anthropocentric. Here is what I mean by that.

“I propose grounding our “mestizo” theologizing in an understanding that race is a long-historical ideological apparatus fomented to create and discipline subaltern labor in the modern capitalist world-system. The only way theology can confront this risk – which may not finally be superable, either in scholarly practice or in activism – is to frontally critique capitalism as a system of exploiting and destroying racialized bodies” (Aquino, page 285).

The thought occurs that capitalism as it exists today thrives off the exploitation of all that is not recipient of the fruits of such exploitation. Only a few benefit from the suffering of billions. Who are the billions? They are those who are not denizens of the center. They are all those who can be identified as 'other.' Race, class, species, it does not matter. The oppressed whose suffering affords the center luxury are racial and ethnic minorities, working classes, cattle, laboratory animals, ecosystems.

This is not to equate the human oppressed with the non-human oppressed in any pejorative or degrading sense. And why should it be interpreted as degrading of a human being to equate her to an animal? Both are God's creatures, expressions of life, beauty and creativity, and both bear the Imago Dei. Creatures are never "better" or "worse than," only different.

No, it is merely to point out that to those in the center, whose greed is laced with ignorance and indifference to the other, there is no difference between the human oppressed and the non-human oppressed: the migrant worker, the racial minority, the poor, they are all seen as another kind of animal, one too complicated and perceptive to be enslaved in the same way a cow or a pig might. Human oppressed are allowed to benefit, however slightly and pitifully, from the spoils of modern capitalism's plundering because they have a voice that an anthropocentric worldview recognizes. They must be enslaved differently than cattle and by much more sophisticated means. The non-human oppressed have no voice recognized by the center's anthropocentrism, but they are exploited all the same.

To borrow Aquino's words, capitalism is a system of exploitation and destroying peripheral bodies, bodies that are barred from the center, whether they are human or otherwise. Different race, different ethnicity, different species, these distinctions are irrelevant, so long as these can each be made subservient to the system, that its misguided attempt at sating human greed might be perpetuated just a little longer. Theologically speaking, this kind of capitalism is the purest form of systemic sin, as it enslaves, exploits, commodifies and cheapens all of God's creatures. Human beings are creatures too, but modern capitalism would not be viable if it considered anything sacred.

Something to think about

Human civilization is insanity in the eyes of nature. Remember that pre-socratic distinction between Physis (the laws of nature) and Nomos (the laws and conventions of humanity)? Never really got a proper resolution, and now we're living in a world of radical Nomos that takes itself WAY too seriously.

We've forgotten that Physis, not Nomos, is the real world. We've all gone collectively insane, and our society/infrastructure reflects that.

So the next time you wonder why the world's gone topsy turvy, just remember that Physis is perfectly sane. It's Nomos that has gone mad.

A Post from October 26th, 2016 about the metaphor for God as Female Lover

You can't even begin to experience God without a metaphor in mind. We all have them, whether we draw from those provided by a holy book or from our own experiences. And for many, the immanence and significance of God is best conveyed in the incarnational metaphor of God as Son, and the authoritative and righteous metaphor of God as Father.

But all metaphor breaks down at some point. People change, and with them change the means by which they relate to that divine being we so crudely call God. The changing of metaphors for God is messy business; movements divide, wars are waged, confessions are written and heresies are named. A person can describe God in a new way that is meaningful to them, only to be shut out and denounced by everyone around them. David Friedrich Strauss faced such a lonely fate.

This is a roundabout way of saying that I have been struggling with what metaphors best fit God as disclosed to me. God as Father is out. My own father was abusive and largely absent. As a result of study and reflection, God as Son does not work for me either.

But there is one powerful metaphor left to me in Christianity; God as Holy Spirit, particularly, God as female, God as lover, God as sustainer, God as the object of all passion and desire. Augustine once wrote that our hearts are restless until they rest in God, an expression of his own wandering life and corrupted desires. But I'd say that my heart and spirit both are restless until they rest in her, in her embrace, in her kiss, and in her gaze. We've spent so much time thinking of God as masculine, powerful and unshakeable, but perhaps God is also vulnerable, tender, and tremulously self-giving.

Could it be for someone like me, barring all dogma, that the Holy Spirit is the single most important person of the Trinity? No, could it be that God is the Holy Spirit alone?

Private Prisons, Black American Liberation Theology, and Overpopulation

In reading James Cone's black theology, the subject of private prisons inevitably appears. “Through private prisons," he writes, "whites have turned the brutality of their racist legal systems into a profit-making venture for dying white towns and cities throughout America. One can lynch a person without a rope or tree.” Crucifixion and lynching can occur in systems as well as in oppressive acts committed by human agents. That's one of the fundamental claims liberation theology makes. Sin is systemic as well as personal.

Liberation theology in an American context means not only recognizing the lynching tree in relation to the cross and the gospel, but also in identifying and working to overthrow the oppression of a criminal justice system that objectifies human beings as products in an emerging industrial enterprise.

The haunting thought I'm left with is this: human overpopulation has grim anthropological consequences. Fill the earth with human beings, some rich and most poor, and the gaze of corporate entities will inevitably fall upon the poor with terrifying indifference and detached avarice: in greed, they will look upon a vast field of human beings and think to themselves “This is a crop waiting to be harvested. This is a market waiting to be tapped. This is a world of objects from which I may profit.” The preciousness of every human life falls to the wayside as people are slowly cut down like stalks of wheat to be processed and sold. Under the pretense of even the slightest infraction, the black person is cut from the earth of their own lives and sold to private prisons that profess to "correct and reform." But when literally millions of people are behind bars, many of them unjustly so, how much correction and reformation could there be occurring in reality? You don't correct or reform products.

In a world where humans are everywhere and more are born every day, they will inevitably be seen as little more than resources for the ever-growing corporate bodies that choke the skyline.

In a world where the accumulation of capital is Lord and human beings number in the billions, human life will be monetized. That is the consequence of systemic sin.

To borrow from Orwell, if you want an image of the future, imagine a field of boots, stamping on a field of human faces, hauling them up from the dirt, and selling them to someone else to stamp on....forever.

The Intersection of Suicidal Depression and Thirsting for God and for Meaning

A chronically depressed person has to fight to stay alive. A person seeking God has to fight to for every metaphor, every image, every incarnation. One is not enough; grip it strong enough, make it static, and it will fade; listen to a song often enough and it will lose its power to move you.

I'm on a journey, in a struggle to reach the next oasis. Fighting off the desire to give up is, in many ways, analogous to thirsting for new spiritual food.

If I lie in my bed all day, I'm not living. If I stop seeking after the mystery that is God, I will die.

Existence is thus characterized in terms of survival; we struggle to find subsistence. Physis and Nomos. Living in Nomos, living in our artificial world, we can find food, but we still have to struggle to provide for ourselves in terms of meaning, purpose, and new images by which to commune with God. That is, perhaps, our primal connection with the reality of Physis, despite our addiction to Nomos. We have made food abundant, but we still hunger. We in the Global North have seen to our material needs. Great. But we have spiritual and emotional and social needs. Have we seen to those? Can we see to those as long as we are living in the artificial reality of Nomos?

Feuerengel

Feuerengel, bitte lass mich nicht allein,
Ohne dich kann ich nicht sein.

Walking the Abyss

The 21st century has brought about some interesting changes, among them the advent of globalism and religious pluralism. We are all discovering that the world is much bigger than any of us originally conceived, that we have many neighbors and much to learn from them. Whether politically, economically, philosophically or theologically, every individual is confronted with the vastness of human perspective; we are small in the face of the universe, yes, but we are also small in the face of our own diversity. We are only now beginning to learn just how fearfully and wonderfully made we are.

But there have been push-backs against this confrontation with global vastness and the insights of our neighbors; movements have emerged everywhere, emphasizing the need for insularity and inwardness, to cease gazing into the abyss and to return to the normative simplicity of the way things were before we learned how diverse humanity is. People speak of building walls, halting the flow of immigration and the influences it can bring. Everywhere I look in the political and religious spheres, I hear polemics being thrown like so many pies.

What I want to communicate here has specifically to do with faith and our beliefs surrounding God; we hold God to be big, universal in scale, and yet so many of us are content with a small God who acts as little more than the greatest being in the order of being, or the guardian of a specific tribe. God makes sense when God is small. We can wrap our minds around that. And when God is small, the abyss I mentioned above seems smaller too, and less threatening.

The scale of globalism and religious pluralism brings the horror of that abyss into sharp focus, that same abyss into and through which we are beckoned. We hold that God is big, so big that God is what Rahner called "holy mystery," the "horizon" to which we are always moving but never arriving, the "whither" of all our self-transcendence. We are fundamentally oriented toward this horizon, this holy mystery, which while being gracious and near, is also incomprehensible and distant. We longingly seek a God beyond our epistemological scope, and for many of us, this longing leads us to the edge of the abyss. To venture into it means bringing all our cherished beliefs and traditions into question, to risk the deconstruction of our faith.

The challenges of the 21st century have forced us into a confrontation with the abyss. Having brushed up against the borders of this vast, terrifying realm, many faith communities turn inward, become insular and unwilling to acknowledge the insights other traditions may offer. It becomes a case of "us vs them," "the City of God vs the City of the World," wherein our God images turn small, as small as the tradition itself, dogmatic and exclusivist.

The believer balks at the task of seeking God with the whole heart, soul and mind. In the 21st century, seeking God with one's whole heart, soul, and mind means facing down inconsistencies, stepping outside the confines of the familiar and utilizing any set of theological language that makes sense of the fundamental longing for the divine, as articulated in the subjective experience of the individual. This is a journey that demands much and takes a heavy toll on the seeker. It is existentially much easier to simply remain in the smallness of tradition, not necessarily because the believer is ignorant (she knows how big the world is, how big God is. She can see the abyss lurking in the corner of her eye), but rather because the believer is afraid; she is afraid of the abyss, afraid of losing her faith as she has known it, afraid of the acid bath of deconstruction, and equally afraid of the subsequent reconstruction, where her faith and her very being will take on new forms that she never could have anticipated. She fears the loss and pain that seeking God entails. No one comes through the abyss without a scar or two. No one receives the gift of true life without carrying the seed of that life into the depths of the grave. We must lose life in order to gain it.

Seeking God is not for the faint of heart. It is not easy. It is not simple. It is a lifelong journey fraught with peril and the threat of losing everything to a gnawing sense of meaninglessness in an uncaring universe. Seeking God means sharing not only in hope of life after death, but sharing also in the hope of finding meaning and purpose amidst the cacophony of human theological and spiritual diversity. We carry a cross to the grave, yes, but our path to the grave passes through the abyss. For better or worse, we will not emerge from the abyss unchanged.

When I walked through the abyss, I felt at first as though I was losing everything I valued to an acid bath. My faith was deconstructed, picked apart, and it felt as if very little remained. But upon seeking help and guidance from those older and wiser than me, I learned a new metaphor; perhaps it was not an acid bath, a steady erosion and deterioration, but rather a forging. Perhaps I was clay in the potter's hands, raw ore hammered and struck upon the anvil, not destroyed or negated, but rather reborn and reformed. I could not possibly know what form I would take at the end of the painful process, but eventually the metal cooled, and my place and purpose became gradually clear.

One more personal example: I remember being in a seminar about biblical and qur'anic prophets (the  former borrowing heavily from the former, intimately related), and eventually we spoke of Jesus. Of course we did. Jesus stood in line with a long tradition of prophecy, much of what he said and did was prophetic. But given that we were studying prophets from all of the abrahamic faiths and that most of us were came from Christian faith traditions (and that we were having this discussion in a classroom on a Jesuit campus), there was an unspoken anxiety surrounding Jesus. In our digging and researching, we'd run into the elephant in the room, the potential fear lurking in the heart of every Christian: was Jesus really the son of God? The abyss loomed. We all stood at its precipice, staring into the vast nothingness the question threatened to plunge us into.

I asked the question: was Jesus really the son of God? Given what we have learned, given what I know now to be true, can I, in good faith, equate the Jesus of the New Testament to the ineffable Holy Mystery? I made no conclusions regarding the question, I merely voiced my concerns. The room was silent, not because no one spoke, but because there were no forthcoming answers and there was no one willing to plunge into the abyss to seek the truth. My concerns essentially went unanswered, and the class moved on to other topics. For a long time, I interpreted this to mean that I was stupid, that I had misunderstood something vitally fundamental to the discussion, that I had overlooked something or was simply too unintelligent to articulate the question correctly.

But I later realized that I wasn't stupid; no one answered the question, not because I was stupid and everyone else was more intelligent, but because I was brave. I alone had the courage to stare down the abyss, I alone was willing to leap into uncertainty, I alone was willing to risk the deconstruction of my faith to seek God with my entire heart, soul, and mind. No one else leapt into the void with me. I alone was courageous enough to be a walker of the abyss. I say this not to heap praises on myself, but to call the situation out for what it was. The abyss presented itself, and only one of us was willing to enter it.

Seeking God means having the courage to leave certainty and the familiar and walk into and through the abyss, to brave the valley of the shadow of meaningless and deconstruction. As believers, we face more than the prospect of the loss of the body, but also the prospect of the loss of our faith. The abyss threatens to shape us, to transmute the language of our faith as we understand it into something new and unfamiliar. We must walk through the valley of the shadow of death, we must risk our lives in order to gain them. Faith is neither comfortable nor safe; faith in the 21st century is an act of courage.

Be strong and courageous, be strong! For even in the abyss, I am with you.

God is not Beautiful; God is Beauty

Holy Mystery, Beloved, Beauty, hear my prayer:

In this moment, I finally understand what it means that you re not beautiful, but beauty itself. You are the face that always changes, is never the same, is always mystery, and yet intimately given to me.

I could watch a single face change aspects a thousand times, and it would not be enough, it would not satisfy the whither of my human self-transcendence. No, not even such a one as this could be the horizon that both endlessly teases and satisfies.

No beautiful face, no beautiful image, no work of art, however complex and no matter how visible from manifold angles, could capture what God is. God is not beautiful, God is beauty, and all art, all aesthetics, seeks to capture beauty while remaining fundamentally unable to do so. No artist can paint the face of the beloved, because she is loveliness itself; he must content himself with the lovely, and no more.

But the beloved who awaits me at the end of the aisle, by the altar, whom no third person can see or understand, is beauty beyond beauty that I can ever fully know.

I could admire a beautiful person and be captured, but there would always be the thought that this person is not all the other beautiful people who capture me. This person, however lovely, is only one instance of loveliness among many. A photo is a static instance of beauty, while a video is an attempt to give the illusion of a dynamic beauty that evolves and changes.

God, you are neither photo nor video. You are the face that shifts and changes, not as impenetrable fog, but as the dynamism of beauty itself. You are not impossible to grasp. I can hold you close, smell you, touch you, kiss you, take you by the hand and lead you to the place where we can be one, I can do all this - you do not flutter in and out of my life, but remain, because you love me. You have given yourself to me.

And yet, what is it you have given? The fullness of your mystery, the incomprehensibility of your beauty, which seem to me like the shifting and changing of an infinite sea. Your eyes are the eyes of my dreams, but of all colors and more. Your scent is the delight of my senses, but of all scents and more. Your lips are the caress of my being, but in all ways and more.

Not one image, no series of images, however beautiful, will ever satisfy me. No, I was not meant for beautiful things. I was meant for beauty itself, by your decree. And in your fundamental intention, you were meant for me too, because in spite of the wretch that I am, you love me. That is all I could ever need, because your love is mysterious dynamism itself; every moment, your love is more full and different. You beckon my reason into new frontiers, leading me through the streets, into the church, down the aisle, to the altar.

And what waits for us there? An "I do" that will not be breathed only once and then dissipate into air. It will be an "I do" that rings in air, in hearts, for all eternity.

My God, you are my joy and delight. None will ever satisfy me the way you can, because you are not beautiful; you are beauty itself.

"Heimat ist nur by Dir.

Sei mein Licht, der mir wo ich bin zeigt. Sei mein Welt, und mein Herz, dass mir wer ich bin sagt."

"I've had time to write a book about, the way you act and look; I haven't got a paragraph. Words are always getting in my way....anyway, I love you. That's all I have to tell you. That's all I've got to say."

All my life, I have vainly sought beauty in lesser instances. For that, I beg forgiveness, both for the injuries I caused myself, and the injuries I caused others.

You lift my head by the chin and turn my eyes to yours, those deep, changing pools of infinity, and you invite me in without reservation. You're not here to cleanse me of sin, you're not here to judge me to paradise, inferno or purgatory, you're not here to make ethical demands of me. No, you're here to love me, and to teach me what it is to love.

Teach me, Beauty, teach me, all the days of my life and more.

Amen

Lincoln

Let us finish the work we are in.

Though all the forces of darkness and man are arrayed against us, though the entropy of despair should sicken the soul and corrode the spirit, may we hold close the spark of courage, given us to in the moment of decisive significance. May that spark be sufficient to see us through the cold of night, the violence of battle, and the ridicule of critics both in society and within ourselves.

Though it would feel a greater relief and temptation to die, let us finish the work. By God, let us somehow finish the work.

Urgot

Urgot said that you cannot know strength until you are broken.

I do know strength now, many times over. What he didn't mention is that being broken can bring one to know flaws and weakness, as well as strength.

Like folded iron, the carbon will become concentrated. But one slip, one error, and the structural integrity will not withstand many strikes.

If you are broken, be broken rightly. Be broken for the sake of strength and growth, not pain and suffering.

Reflections on a moonlit night

The landscape was dark, so obscured by night that no definitive shapes could be discerned except trees and hilltops on a ghostly horizon. Despite the fullness of the shining moon, very little on the ground was illuminated. The concrete absorbed all moonbeams upon contact.

This blackness stood in stark contrast to the sky, its obscurity only adding to the glory of the silvery firmament. The moon hung within a fixed halo as the clouds hurried by, softly diffusing its light in and around the entire sky, so that it resembled the sunlight of a very dark day.

Someday, he thought, I shall go there, if the conditions are right. It will depend on many things outside my control. But if I can, I will go there.

Free books I have yet to read

It occurred to him that he had a deep and abiding love of books, however faded by years of shortening attention spans and the instant gratification of audiobooks.

He glanced at the stack of four slim books that he had taken from the table, when he was emboldened by the sign telling him to take what he wished. Then he turned to the text of a poem, the final stanza of which glared at him:

"Be grateful for whatever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond."

God, the Divine, that intangible sense of goodwill that permeated existence, that WAS existence, from time immemorial, was present. There was no incarnation, no Buddha, no Qur'anic representation of the ideal in heaven, but there WERE these books, these four, sent from the beyond.

But, he realized, there was no guarantee that they were really sent. In fact, it may very well have been the case that he merely imagined they were sent. He might be insane. His conviction that purpose, narrative, and divine upbuilding and instruction might be communicated by a set of books left on a table might have been sheer lunacy. It might be a truth that existed in his own brain and not a truth extant in the external world.

But it was the truth in his own brain, and he determined within himself to be grateful for whatever came, because each of these messages was sent as a guide from beyond. The distinction between human and divine authorship blurred. Perhaps they were one and the same, and perhaps that was right and good and just.

Fundamentalism

I can understand why people are drawn to fundamentalism. It dims your eyes, but it puts everything into focus. It's like crossing a rope bridge over a chasm; some people have an easier time crossing if they don't look down. Fundamentalism closes off your vision of the world, but it puts solid ground underneath your feet. It saves you from the weight of existential angst. It weakens the heart while protecting it from harm. It takes away the anxiety of adulthood and makes children of us; follow the rules, and all will be well.

And if you can become blind to the reality of what you left behind, then yes, all will be well.

Lover's Prayer

Oh God, you who are beyond all calling or knowing, listen to my call now, and let me know you.

I have experienced great pain in my search for happiness, in my attempts to fill the void within me.
My failures and wanderings have brought me little but sorrow. My hand and my eye are gone, and in their place, an enduring phantom pain remains.

I have sought you, whether through my studies or through my depraved cravings for intimacy, by way of which many people were hurt. I have thirsted and longed for you, in my numbness and in my aroused passion.

Regardless of what I sought, regardless of what I applied to my wounds as balm, it was you I sought. For you alone are the Lover who will never leave,
the Supporter who will build me up,
 the Wife who will give my labor meaning,
 the Seductress whose charms will hold my wandering gaze,
 the Heart that will always desire me, even when I feel undesirable.

Be not far from me, my Love. Be not overlong. My hurt is deep, and it knows only one source of lasting relief. Do not leave me alone with my pain, or I will die.

You are not beautiful; beauty is not a quality anyone can attribute to you, because you are the beautiful itself. You are beauty, the beauty I seek, the beauty that captures me, that heals, that holds me.

See past my words, into my heart. Let thinking cease and loving begin. Help me to see you in all places and in all things.

I will be grateful always that it was you who first desired me, who first reached out to me, you who first gave Herself to me, you who first loved me.

I shall have you, and you shall have me. You need only say when.

Until then, my Love.

Sexuality and God-Images - A healing sexual theology of Submission and dominance

This is a paper I wrote for a class on Christian Sexuality. I hope it proves edifying to you. Note that there are footnotes on citations 14, 15 and 18 which may help to clarify certain points.

Thank you for reading. I hope you too will see the urgency of the task before us, the need to provide everyone with a unique language necessary for living into healing narratives and relationships.

"In Embodiment, James Nelson argues that sexual and religious questions are not mutually exclusive from one another as many traditions maintain, but rather inform and color each other necessarily.¹ Our sexuality conditions and affects our theology, and vice versa. This conditioning has a multitude of factors, not least of which is the power of the God-image on the sexually developing being. In what follows, I will explore the interplay between faith and sexuality, first providing personal and historical context, then arguing that God need not be related to in a way that is detrimental to the sexual unfolding and happiness of the individual. Drawing from my own context and Nelson, I will propose a sexual theology wherein the traditional power dynamic between humanity and the divine is inverted to reflect an authentic sexual communion surrounding submission and dominance. I will conclude that faith ought to be a matter of claiming a healing narrative and then living into a healing relationship, both with fellow sexual beings and with God. This will all begin with some personal and historical context on the subject.

Much ink has been spilled on establishing, defining and enforcing the normative God-images of western Christianity. Whether it is God as Father, God as Lord, God as Husband or God as Judge, the symbolic language by which we refer to the divine has concrete implications for how we live as embodied beings, particularly with regard to sexuality. Sometimes these implications are positive, sometimes negative. In my case, they were negative. Growing up, there was no sexual theology in place to make sense of my traumatic experiences.

The early family life of which I am cognizant was not very life-giving. My parents were unhappily married. They spent most of my childhood fighting, and while my mother was loving, she and my father both left me to my own devices. I discovered masturbation and sexuality almost entirely through pornography, as my father was too belligerent and abusive and my mother did not think it her place to explain male sexuality to her son. I was left in the dark. All I had to go on was my natural attraction to the opposite sex.

Partly due to fundamentalist Christian influence and partly because of my toxic relationship with my father, I saw God as an authority figure who said he loved me even when his behavior suggested that the condition for his love was total obedience. My father said he loved me, but I did not feel loved. God made me feel guilty and unworthy. Again, I was left to my own devices, and many days were spent alone before God, repenting but never experiencing absolution. God was Father and Judge, and neither God-image had a positive impact on me. The salt in the wound was that I was constantly told how vital relationship with God was, but I did not desire any such relationship with my Heavenly Father, let alone my earthly one. Needless to say, the God-image of Father did not facilitate my development, but rather nurtured my sense of hurt and resentment. My faith was stunted, and my sexuality developed according to what pornography taught me, leading to sexist dualisms that estranged me from my emotions. Neither my family nor my faith community contributed to my sexual or theological development. I had no context, and until college, I played along. God was Father, but I did not desire relationship with him, and sexual release only happened secretly on a computer screen late at night.

Looking back on the historical context of western Christianity, it is not surprising that my faith community and parents taught me nothing about sexuality. From the days of the overwhelmingly influential Saint Augustine to the present, Christianity has taken a more or less negative view of the human body and sexual relationships that take place outside of marriage (or for purposes other than procreation). This is largely attributable to Augustine. In his mind, sexual acts are sinful by nature and distort the loves and wills of humanity, transmitting the original sin of Adam and Eve like a biological contagion.² He is adamant on this point because it fits his experience; Augustine's life was characterized by lustful trysts that caused more harm than good, feeding into his sense of listlessness and inner frustration. His sexual drive was high, and he was clearly disturbed by the loss of self-control and willpower that occurs when engaging in sexual acts. In such moments, the human being becomes insatiable, attempting to feed an infinite desire with a finite good. Only God, the infinite good, can meet this infinite desire, and trying to replace God with sex is sinful in Augustine's eyes. Given this association between sex and selfish, insatiable desires (referred to as 'concupiscence'), “every sex act is not only directly connected to original sin (for which each of us is responsible) but also binds us more firmly to it.”³ In Confessions, Augustine writes that his heart is restless until it rests in God, who alone can satisfy his deep longing and properly order his will, so that lust can no longer turn him from divine love, which was waiting for him all along.⁴

In Augustine's mind, it is not humanity who first reaches out to God, but God who first reaches out to humanity. Even in the midst of sin and concupiscence, God is present, never far away, always ready to break the chains. In terms of grace and salvation, God always acts first. This is solidified later when Augustine argues contra Pelagius that humanity cannot abstain from sin by willpower alone, but is always in need of divine help. In other words, the initiative is God's alone to take. Even so, humanity is still free to pursue finite goods in place of the infinite good:

“How long it was before I learned that you were my true joy! You were silent then, and I went on my way, father and farther from you, proud in my distress and restless in fatigue, sowing more and more seeds whose only crop was grief.”⁵

Augustine's sexual history did not bring him fulfillment and wholeness, but rather grief. In processing his experiences, he turned to abstinence, prescribing a sexual ethic where sex could only happen in marriage, and then only for procreation. Thus, contraception and sex for pleasure were condemned.⁶ It takes only a cursory glance to see that Augustine's sexual ethic, first written through the experiential lens of a traumatic sexual history, is commonplace in Christianity today. The west's most predominant Christian sexual ethic was written by a man who ultimately gave up on embodied sexual fulfillment. In this way, it is easy to see how one's sexual experiences can color one's theology, and how one's theology can change the world.

Just as sexuality can color the particulars of theology, it also gives rise to God-images. The God-image most constraining to me is Father, which has become one of the most common God-images. It had its origins with Jesus himself, automatically lending itself to popularity. In first century Judaism, God was understood as a party to the covenant between him and his chosen people, Israel. Before that, he was the creator, the maker of all. In terms of relationship, he was the husband, while Israel was the bride.⁷ This marital language in theology has endured. Augustine in the 4^th century CE used such language when he described his years of lust, during which he “broke troth with [God].”⁸ Israelite transgression of the covenant was often interpreted in terms of breaking troth and marital infidelity.⁹ God was not commonly referred to as Father. However, possibly due to his own father's death and the subsequent loss of a stable father figure, Jesus had a moving experience where he came to know God as his heavenly Father, claiming dignity as a Son of God (after all, in all accounts of Jesus' ministry, Joseph is curiously absent).¹⁰ This metaphor gave life to Jesus, but for me, this paternal metaphor has become entangled in feelings of fear, hurt, resentment, and powerlessness. It has not contributed to my sexual unfolding.

What does contribute to my sexual unfolding is a God-image that not only makes sense of my experiences, but also gives me new understanding of who God is. In the course of discovering my own sexual characteristics, I learned that it is erotic for me to be in a dominant role. I appreciate and enjoy the submission of a partner because it indicates that they trust me and value my wishes. It is an affirmation of my self-worth, a reminder that I have control over my life and that I need not be a doormat to anyone. It also feeds into my nurturing side, the aspect of my self that has always wanted to be a responsible caretaker and provider. Being dominant and assuming the position of power in sexual acts speaks to what is good in me; it banishes my anxieties surrounding my sense of worthlessness engendered in me by my father, and it fills me with love for the person who first loved me enough to submit. It makes me a fuller person, and it was only when I became sexually active in this way that I achieved an orgasm meaningful to me. Being in control and indulging in the moment of desire, far from corrupting my humanity as Augustine feared, actually restored it.

This sexual development represents a deviation from the sexual ethic prescribed in most faith communities, which often closely resemble Augustine's. At the same time, it is also a departure from historical Christianity, which has always conceived of God in male terms and then as a figure of supreme authority, not as an intimate lover. The God-image that makes better sense to me of my sexual experiences and general context is God as female Lover. Like Augustine, I too wasted much time sowing seeds whose only crop was grief. But in the midst of all my loss and heartache, I have learned that God alone is the Lover who will never leave, the Supporter who will build me up, the Wife who will give my labor meaning, the Seductress whose charms will unfailingly hold my wandering gaze, and the Heart that will always desire me, even when I feel undesirable.

Moreover, God is the Lover who will give herself to me, not because I am more powerful or significant, but because she knows that her submission will make me happy. That is how much she loves me. Her submission and the transfer of power it signifies is an affirmation of my worth as the beloved, as a creature made in the image of God. This mode of relating to God gives me insight into the divine; for once, the tables are turned, and I can see God from an inverted point of view.

My proposal for a sexual theology is precisely this: humanity is afforded new perspective and is affirmed in its created goodness when it allows God to be submissive and itself to be dominant. Throughout history, God has always been the one to take the initiative, as Augustine argued. In nearly all of the philosophical and theological literature, God is all-powerful, dominant, all-knowing, utterly transcendent, and always in charge. God calls the shots, and humanity is the one who must surrender and find value in the act. I would argue that while this dynamic is not without merit, it also cuts off possibility and inhibits growth when it becomes the sole lens through which the relationship between God and humanity is viewed. Nelson writes that sexuality is “a highly symbolic dimension of human experience,” and that to think of it as such represents a “departure from from the heavily biological emphasis typical of traditional natural law theory in ethics.”¹¹ By the same token, I would argue that to see sexuality as a highly symbolic dimension of human experience also represents a departure from the heavily philosophical emphasis on traditional metaphysical and hierarchical distinctions between God and humanity, such as creator and created, spirit and matter, Lord and subject. When the relationship between God and humanity becomes one sided in this way, it ceases to be a polarity where “two harmonious elements essentially belonging together are yet distinguishable and may exist in creative tension.”¹² The implication of God always being in the position of power and dominance in the relationship is that humanity is always in the position of lack of power and submission, meaning that humanity will never fully understand the act of submission in context. Does giving mean as much when one does not know what it is to receive? God knows equally well what it is to dominate and what it is to submit, but in the historically adopted paradigm of divine domination, humanity has only ever known submission. In allowing God to submit, humanity is given the opportunity to know another aspect of God, to touch the divine heart, to experience union with the divine in a new and empowering way.

The first immediate objection is that if God submits and humanity dominates, God is made less and humanity is lifted up beyond safe boundaries. This need not be a concern. Nelson argues that authentic sexual communion precludes both dichotomy (wherein fundamental distinctions are not resolved) and absorption (where the two become one or both lovers are rendered precisely the same, in which case there is no polarity worth having). Rather:

In authentic sexual communion dichotomy is overcome while polarity remains. The body-self is united with the beloved partner. . .This communion retains its polarity. . .In a true sexual relationship with the beloved, I do not possess my partner. The same is true in the knowing relationship with God.”¹³

In short, if a sexual relationship of dominance and submission is entered into in good faith and loving intention on both sides, the polarity of creative tension and the uniqueness of both dom and sub remains untouched, regardless of whatever outward dynamic the sexual act might imply.¹⁴ The dom does not own the sub, and the sub's value or identity is not invalidated by the dom. Real sexual communion means giving lovingly and graciously accepting what is given, all in a dynamic of mutuality. However the power dynamic appears on the surface, if it is authentic sexual communion, the polarity remains. Even if God is conceived of in the role of sub, her power, identity and majesty is preserved. The ontological status quo between God and humanity remains, despite the outward appearance of power transfer. God does not become humanity and humanity does not become God; they merely become the beloved of one another in a different capacity.¹⁵

Another objection is that the rightful place of humanity is one of submission. This depends heavily on how one defines submission and whether or not the act of submission is toxic for the individual. There are those for whom submission is a return to a violent and traumatic childhood, for whom the language of submission holds little but trauma and sadness, just as there are those for whom the language of dominance denies the value of submission. Everyone has different experiences, and the language of submission will not be life-giving to everyone. For this reason, I argue that Christianity's historical emphasis on the value of human submission is highly contextual and should not be taken as universally valid across the board. There will always be those who find life in submission to God and to others, but there will also always be those for whom submission is death.

For those who seek to know and love God by way of the sexual theology I am proposing, there are arguments to be made against humanity always being in submission. When Augustine wrote that the initiative is God's alone to take, he implied that the human being was a “receptor only – a passive, waiting vessel who can only respond to the divine initiative. . .Thus, the image of a passive self totally pliable before God not only truncates the fullness of the body-self but also impoverishes the God to whom we would respond.”¹⁶ If humanity and God are lovers on a polarity, God is robbed of a lover when humanity does not contribute to the co-creative tension, floundering limply like a doll. There is little pleasure to be derived from a partner who lies lifeless and still, lacking dynamism of any kind, never giving feedback during the act. Whether dominant or submissive, God surely desires an active partner, not a passive receptor. If the initiative is always God's alone, then humanity is robbed of its right to be co-creative with God, and co-creativity is part of what it means to occupy a polarity of authentic sexual communion with the divine.

It goes without saying that all language applied to God is symbolic. Any sexual theology that conceives of God as Lover in the context of a specific sexual act is necessarily metaphorical and will not fully encapsulate the Mystery. Equally obvious is that the language of dominant and submissive relationship will not resonate with everyone's experiences, sexual or otherwise. But whatever form a sexual theology may take, it is important to recognize that sex, as a form of human language, is “an expression of the human search for meaning and belonging,” and that “sex for human beings is a language of love.”¹⁷ One of the first things a child in Sunday School learns is 'God loves you.' What that love means will change from person to person, from sexual history to sexual history, from heartache to heartache.¹⁸ Many people carry a lot of pain and alienation inside of them, as Augustine did for so many years. But where he dismissed the desire of sexuality as inherently sinful, I would argue that sexuality and sexual theology both ought to be about claiming healing narratives that speak to and validate our individual stories.

At its core, religion is about claiming healing narratives. Unfortunately, where there is no language in the community to give voice to their sexual or theological experiences, people will either bear the pain silently or look elsewhere. When the stories of the faith community do not resonate with and make room for the sexual self, that sexual self will be forced to find expression elsewhere, perhaps in a subculture established around a certain sexual act. Too often, an individual will discover themselves sexually only to find that their faith community is not only unwilling to celebrate that discovery, but condemns it! The simple fact is that not only are we unable to understand ourselves apart from our sexuality, but we also “do not have complete control over interpretations of our sexuality; some definitions and understandings are forced upon us. . .our sexuality is shaped by the time and space in which we live.”¹⁹ We cannot help being what we are, and we are fully justified in wanting to find communities where aspects of our sexual-selves can find freedom of expression. The tragedy lies in the fact that while many find acceptance in sexual subcultures, they do not always find that same acceptance in their faith communities or in their homes. This is true not only of certain sexual acts, but also of sexual theologies that go against the grain established by Augustine long ago. I know of no church where the sexual theology I proposed could be wholly accepted. Like many, I am forced to compartmentalize my self, to pick and choose between membership in seemingly mutually exclusive tribes.

There is an urgent need for theological language that can facilitate the synthesis between these tribes, so that people may experience both sexual and spiritual fulfillment, not one at the expense of the other. Whatever human beings are, we are social and sexual, and our sexuality is an expression of our search for value and meaning; when we find that value and meaning, we ought to be able to share it with others! Our sexuality informs our intimate relationships, both with people and with God. In the final analysis, these relationships should reflect authentic sexual communion and take forms that heal us, rather than hurt us. They should never inhibit our unfolding as social and sexual beings desiring intimacy and acceptance. The sexual theology of human domination and divine submission is merely one of many sexual theologies that need to be written. We need many more such theologies and God-images, so that all people may own a language by which to express their sexual experiences to both their divine and human beloved.

Works Cited:

Nelson, James B. Embodiment: An Approach to Sexuality and Christian Theology. First ed., Minneapolis, MN, Augsburg Publishing House, 1978, pp. 15-106.

Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version. San Francisco, Harper One, 1989.

Beattie, Patricia, and Darryl W. Stephens, editors. Professional Sexual Ethics: A Holistic Ministry Approach. First ed., Minneapolis, MN, Fortress Press, 2013, pp. 12-62.

Augustine, Saint. Confessions. Westminster, Penguin Books, 1961, pp. 34-44.

Hinson, E G. The Early Church. First ed., Nashville, TN, Abingdon Press, 1996, p 30.

1James B. Nelson, Embodiment, page 15

2Professional Sexual Ethics, page 62

3Nelson, page 53

4Saint Augustine, Confessions, page 21

5Augustine, pages 43-44

6Professional Sexual Ethics, page 62

7Holy Bible NRSV, Isaiah 54:5, Hosea 2:19, Jeremiah 31:32, Malachi 3:17

8Augustine, page 34

9Hosea 2:2-23, Jeremiah 3:20

10Glenn Hinson, The Early Church, page 30

11Nelson, page 28

12Nelson, page 37

13Nelson, pages 34-35

14Briefly, in relationships of power transfer and exchange, the dominant one who takes initiative and derives pleasure from dominance is referred to as a top or dom (there are fine distinctions between a top and a dom, but these lie outside the scope of this paper. We will simply use the term dom moving forward), and the submissive one who derives pleasure from submission is referred to as the sub.

15In such relationships, it is the sub who has the power; while the dom takes the initiative and dictates what sexual act will happen and when, the sub has the final word and retains the power to say “yes” or “no,” to which the dom must respectfully comply. The dom has only the appearance of power. God is not diminished in any way as the sub. In fact, her ultimate power is thus affirmed.

16Nelson, page 32

17Nelson, pages 105-106

18For many with experiences similar to mine, the statement 'God loves you' can be harmful if that love is perceived as coming from certain figures, i.e. paternal figures. My father said he loved me, but his actions implied otherwise. If God is paternal and I hear 'God loves you,' it rings hollow in my ears. If a faith community succeeds in making the statement 'God loves you' ring hollow for anyone, it has failed in its primary mission.

19Professional Sexual Ethics, pages 12-13"

For paper

There is no such thing as a free lunch. Humans are keenly aware of this reality, this law of equivalent exchange, which states that everything has a price. There is no free lunch. The cost is always paid somewhere, even if it is not by you. If you want to take something, you have to give something of equal or greater value.


Why then, if humans are familiar with this, do they take from their natural surroundings without thinking time give anything back? It's a law that applies nearly everywhere, whether in human economic systems or ecological systems. Humans exploit resources because they think it's free for the taking, that there is no price to pay. Only, there is a price, and the debt is accumulating.

Trump

Trump became president today. I saw a rational, sane person support him, posting this:

This was my response.

If your faith was in God and Christ crucified, then you would remember what he was executed for; 1) sedition against the state and 2) challenging the status quo in favor of affirming the dignity of the marginalized, the outcast, the downtrodden, the socially undesirable, the other.

Trump's campaign was largely built on unfounded fear of these social undesirables, these others. People were talked into being afraid that the others would harm their country.

If you voted for Trump and believed his rhetoric based on fear of the other, then your faith was in an idol, in a nation, not Christ crucified.  You valued a sense of security over the love of Christ.

This is what shakes my faith.

Between the Bible and Qur'an - Final Paper

One of the commonalities shared by all three of the Abrahamic monotheist religions is the concept of the prophet. While differing in form and emphasis from tradition to tradition, prophets and prophethood occur in each. As the youngest of the three (chronologically speaking), Islam makes certain departures from biblical prophethood while retaining a strong sense of social justice. In what follows, I will examine the Prophet Muhammad's role as a prophet and social justice reformer, in ways both similar to and distinct from biblical notions of prophethood and social justice.¹ I will compare and contrast the bible and the Qur'an on these subjects, using the biblical example of the prophet Amos for illustration. I will conclude that Islamic and biblical forms of prophethood are similar and should give us cause to consider the nature of divine wrath as a theological response to concrete injustices.

1Please note that the lack of the proper adage “Peace be upon him” is omitted hereafter not out of disrespect, but in the interest of saving space and not bogging down the voice of the paper whenever his name is mentioned.

Before beginning, I would like to provide some context as to why the topic is of interest to me. This is ultimately in service of the paper, as I believe it will shed some light on why I called Islamic prophethood more overtly theological. As a student of biblical theology, I have gone through several expected phases; a phase of learning and exposure, a phase of integration, a phase of dogmatism, and a phase of introspection and self-critique. At present, I find that the thou shalt's and thou shalt not's of religion are not as interesting or motivating as the deep need for social justice that inspires religion. The three Abrahamic religions share this starting place. Put briefly, Judaism protests latifundialization (which will be defined later), Christianity protests the centralization of the Jewish temple and the mistreatment of the marginalized, and Islam protests the abuse of poor and the loss of the tribal ethic in organized society. I can no longer read the Hebrew scriptures with a literal interpretation, and subsequently, much of the magic is lost. But I've learned that it is possible to interpret these scriptures as emphasizing a rigorous sense of social justice, particularly in the biblical prophets, and I would argue that social justice should always take priority over doctrinal adherence. Part of what I find so interesting about the origins of Islam is that it is, in a way, a prophetic reaction to the spirit of latifundialization, albeit in a different form. It is with this in mind that I now turn to the biblical prophet Amos, to seek out the connection between prophethood and social justice. Later on, this connection will inform our examination of Islamic prophethood.

Amos is a prophetic Hebrew text, one of the Nevi'im, meaning the plural of the Hebrew word for prophet/spokesperson, Nevi. The Nevi'im is a collection of prophetic writings that stands as its own division in the Hebrew scriptures, alongside the Torah (instruction/law) and Ketuvim (writings, what we might call wisdom literature). Together they comprise the canon, the Tanakh, which stands as an acronym for the three. Of all the prophetic texts, Amos is the most straightforward and simple.² There is little that can illuminate Amos' historical conditions beyond its age as an older biblical text preceding the fall of the North Kingdom of Israel. Being so old, it is no surprise that it may have been subjected to multiple editors, making it unreadable as a first person account from an 8^th century BCE prophet.³ What can be inferred about the historical conditions, however, is that it was a time of economic difficulty, ritual infraction, and latifundialization.

The concept and historical realities of latifundialization are key to understanding the prophetic genre, of which Amos is a part. Latifundialization is a tale as old as time, the consolidation of power by a privileged elite over the common people, leading to economic disparity and poor quality of life for the poor, landed or otherwise. Possibly as a result of the collapse of the city state system in the eastern mediterranean, people dispersed into the eastern highlands to form subsistence settlements. Rather than work the farm of a king or aristocrat, people worked their own farms, called nachălâh (phonetic: nahk-al-aw), meaning possession, inheritance, property, portion, and heritage. It is consistently used to denote the plot of land for which each person/family is divinely ordained, a promised land for each person willing to tend it.⁴ It was not permissible to sell one's nachălâh, as it was given by God and Moses. Rather than integrate into a larger economy, settlements subsisted on what they grew themselves. This is, in many ways, reactionary to the integrated yet oppressive economy of the once prominent city state system.

But prior to the collapse of the Northern Kingdom at the hands of the Assyrian empire, Israel enjoyed the peak of its golden age (ironically named the Silver Age of Israelite history). Paul Shalom writes that during this period:

“Israel reached the summit of its material power and economic prosperity as well as the apogee of its territorial expansion. . .This geographical expansion, accompanied by thriving commerce and trade, resulted in an affluent society composed of a small, wealthy upper class. . .This opulence was accompanied by a panoply of pomp and ceremony and by an intensive and zealous religious life that was concretized both in a lavish cult and in elaborate rites that took place at the main northern shrines (Amos 4:4-5; 5:21-23). For the Israelites, all signs pointed to God's unlimited beneficial favor. His protection was assumed to be unconditional, and thus they felt totally secure in the present and thoroughly confident in their future.”⁵

Amos, as an observant outsider skilled in rhetoric, prophesied against this mentality of affluence and self-assured confidence, which was detrimental to the poor. With prosperity came industry and economic infrastructure that placed demand on production and saw nachălâh as irrelevant in the face of tangible profit. Farmland became invaluable to this end, leading to many subsistence farmers being pressured off their plots of land and into poverty. Meanwhile, the gilded rituals of the Israelite cult continued, the rich making lavish gestures of piety while the poor looked on. Amos saw this as an affront to the covenant between God and his people, a mentality of sin that accelerated the coming of the day of the Lord, which would bring certain punishment and doom.⁶ Alongside later figures in the prophetic tradition, Amos prophesied against these social and cultic evils, likely in the form of speeches to uneducated listeners.⁷ With vitriolic scorn, Amos invoked the image of a God moved to implacable wrath as a theological response to the concrete injustices of the Northern Kingdom.⁸ We can see that biblical prophethood (insofar as Amos is a prototypical example of the genre of classical prophecy) is largely concerned with social injustice and the mistreatment of the poor. It will now be shown that Islam began in similar circumstances, and that Islamic prophethood shares similar concerns, albeit in different terms.

To begin with, prophethood in Islam has etymological ties to biblical prophethood. The word Prophet is nevi in Hebrew and nabi in Arabic. It is not outside the realm of possibility that there was, at least on a linguistic level, a degree of influence from monotheistic/henotheistic Judaism in the Arabian peninsula. As Reza Aslan writes:

“Most scholars are convinced that by the sixth century C.E., henotheism had become the standard belief of the vast majority of sedentary Arabs, who not only accepted Allah as their High God, but insisted that he was the same god as Yahweh, the God of the Jews.”⁹

In fact, Jewish influences were so prevalent that most Arabs believed that the Ka'ba, the mysterious black stone structure in Mecca that has always served as the cultic center of Arabic organized religion, was built by Adam, destroyed during the flood, rebuilt by Noah, and then rediscovered by Abraham when visiting Ishmael and Hagar after their banishment at the behest of Sarah.¹⁰ Needless to say, the Arab account of the origin of the Ka'ba is heavily populated by biblical figures and concepts. The Ka'ba before and during Muhammad's time housed idols for the sedentary and beduin Arabs of the entire Hijaz (or Western Arabian peninsula), making it a distinctly Arabic landmark; if such an Arabic cultural symbol as the Ka'ba was thought to be founded and attended by key biblical figures, then it is a clear sign that biblical stories, concepts, and monotheistic tendencies had trickled into the collective Arabian consciousness. The same inevitably became true of Christian beliefs and stories, of which the Qur'an appears very familiar.¹¹

Islam was not only receptive to biblical notions of prophethood, but it also innovated upon them, most notably in the distinction drawn between nabi (prophet) and rasul (messenger).¹² Similar to how apostles outrank prophets in importance in Christianity, a messenger outranks a prophet in Islam.¹³ For example, Qur'an 22:52: “We have never sent any messenger or prophet before you [Muhammad] into whose wishes Satan did not insinuate something, but God removes what Satan insinuates and then God affirms His message.” Whenever a messenger or a prophet are mentioned in the same sentence, the messenger takes precedence and is spoken of first, the implication being that the messenger has vital purpose and the prophet, comparatively speaking, does not.¹⁴ Moreover, the titles of messenger and prophet may refer to the same person: “Mention too, in the Scripture, the story of Moses. He was specially chosen, a messenger and a prophet.”¹⁵ Evidently, the messenger and the prophet represent two different but related roles. Moses was both rasul and nabi, as were Abraham, Jesus and most notably, Muhammad. All rasul are nabi, but not all nabi are rasul.

Rasul bear messages from God, which invariably become scripture. In this sense, the people to which a rasul appeared and bore a message became people of the book. The Christians and Jews had become people of the book, but the Arabs had not. It is tempting to speculate that part of what motivated the formation of Islam was a desire to be part of a broader community of believing monotheists sharing the same stories. This was part of Muhammad's goal after the Hijra, the expulsion from Mecca and the move to Medina. This desire for community, unfortunately, became frustrated by various socio-political and partisan factors, which fall beyond the scope of this paper.

It is worth noting that Islam is the only one of the three Abrahamic monotheisms to imply the prophetic significance of a woman. Hagar, the biblical wife of Abraham who was cast out by Sarah and left in the wilderness, is revered as a matriarchal figure. “As 'the mother of Arabs,' she not only gave birth to Ishmael but was herself a faithful messenger appointed by the one God.”¹⁶ While not included in the Qur'an, Hagar is present in a collection of hadith, the reports or stories which people told of Prophet Muhammad and his legacy. While not strictly authoritative, these stories serve as extra-Qur'anic literature that enriches the Islamic tradition. Of great interest is the following: “[The story of Hagar] appears in a number of overlapping traditions in the hadith, book 15:9, called The Anbiya (Prophets).”¹⁷ While not named nabi or rasul, Hagar is spoken of in nearly prophetic terms. Furthermore, she gave birth to Ishmael, whose name meant “God listens” or “God hears.” In a sense, Hagar delivered a message, that is, she was rasul. No other Abrahamic tradition uses prophetic language in reference to a biblical woman as Islam does.

This is key to an understanding of social justice in Mecca at the time of Muhammad; the plight of women and orphans in society were of central interest. This is because the Quraysh, the ruling tribe who controlled Mecca and financially benefitted from the Ka'ba as a holy site, were more concerned with the accumulation of wealth than with providing for the poor.¹⁸ Meccan society in the 6^th century CE was highly stratified, with wealthy Quraysh tribesman, along with any clan or enterprising family that succeeded in profiting alongside the Quraysh, on top. The city economy centered around the Ka'ba and its significance as a pilgrimage site. After all, the idols and holy symbols of all tribes in the hijaz were housed in the Ka'ba, meaning that any pilgrim seeking to pay respects would be obliged to pay the Quraysh for access. This ownership of pilgrimage rites put the Quraysh tribe at the top of a lucrative religio-economic system that was polytheistic, but with strong henotheistic concepts floating around in the air.¹⁹

Like the affluent northern kingdom against which Amos prophesied, Meccan society was pious but uncharitable. Widows and orphans suffered the most under this system. The social egalitarianism that once dominated Arab beduin life was non-existent in sedentary Meccan society, meaning that anyone unable to turn a financial profit was vulnerable to abuse. As with Canaanite farmers forced off their nachălâh by the advent of industrial demand, orphans and widows were forced to borrow money at high interest to survive, which resulted in debt and slavery. Muhammad was keenly aware of this, being himself an orphan who only survived by the charity and goodwill of others.²⁰ Polygamy was common, which meant that some wives were neglected in favor of others. In general, women were denied inheritance and often mistreated, and as noted above, the other Abrahamic religions did not always speak warmly of the women in their texts, and they most certainly did not apply prophetic language to them. It was in this setting of inequity and socio-economic oppression that Muhammad, who was a quietly pious man in adulthood, is said to have experienced a revelation from God.

Of the man Muhammad, little can be said with historical accuracy. Even the date of his birth is uncertain, though most are content with putting it at 570 CE. However, it is easy to see from a literary critical method perspective that he was groomed in the literature for prophethood. The sīra, the biography of the Prophet Muhammad, is full of stories that intend to present Muhammad in a prophetic light.²¹ For example, one story of Muhammad as a boy details his being selected out of a group by the Christian monk Bahira, who possessed a book of secret prophecies. Upon examining the boy, Bahira proclaimed that Muhammad was “the Messenger of the Lord of the Worlds,” nabi and rasul.²² Aslan interprets such stories as having the function of prophetic topos, which is a literary hallmark of prophetic literature. Just like all significant biblical figures before him, Muhammad was given a significant gravitas in the form of written text. There were signs and omens surrounding him before he was even ten. As a consequence, the Qur'an is often interpreted in light of the sīra. A key theme of the Qur'an is the intimate connection between Muhammad and God's revelation in the form of recitation, meaning that it is difficult to accurately reconstruct Muhammad's life with non-Qur'anic material.²³ It is also problematic to do historical critical analysis of the Prophet when so much of the literature is more interested in legitimating him as nabi and rasul alongside the likes of Abraham, Moses and Jesus than in providing accurate historical content for the sake of posterity. This is not surprising in ancient literature, religious or otherwise. The Qur'an likely developed organically as the result of multiple voices speaking to the significance of one man's message, but the hermeneutic emphasis ultimately falls on significance of Muhammad's voice as rasul.

When Muhammad began to do the work of a messenger, reciting the words revealed to him by God, it unsurprisingly sparked the wrath of the Quraysh, who perceived it as a challenge to the religio-economic system they built.²⁴ This was not because Muhammad was attempting to introduce an uncompromising monotheism, as monotheism was not in itself a shocking concept in Mecca. Rather, it is because of the shahahad, the Islamic profession of faith: there is no god but God (meaning that there was no earthly intermediary, no Quraysh or Ka'ba, between the believer and God) and Muhammad is His prophet (Muhammad is the rasul, the one bearing a message from God). Muhammad was claiming no authority in himself, only that he was commanded to recite what had been revealed to him. This was a direct affront to the authority of the Quraysh as the keepers of the Ka'ba. The challenge was twofold: it was a theological announcement that the Meccan religio-economic system was without essential worth and it was a call for social reform. As Ahmed Afzaal wrote in his article, The Origin of Islam as a Social Movement:

“Contemporary sociological research often distinguishes between religious movements and social movements, but it is not possible to adequately capture the life and career of Prophet Muhammad in terms of only one of these frameworks. . .the socio-political aims of Prophet Muhammad's struggle were the necessary and inevitable – yet mostly implicit and tacit – consequences of his religio-ethical vision. . .the kind of religio-ethical reforms Prophet Muhammad wished to implement in his society were of such a nature and scope that they would not have been possible without active engagement with socio-political structures and processes.”²⁵

In other words, the shahadah and the public preaching of Islam in Mecca were not exclusively theological. Embedded in the message Muhammad bore as rasul was a cry on the behalf of the poor. Muhammad's prophethood, like that of Amos, had concrete socio-economic goals, namely reforms that would result in an improvement in the quality of life for those unjustly mistreated by the entrenched infrastructure of society. These reforms challenged the status quo.

The shahadah was a call for a religio-ethical system. It condemned ethical wrongdoing formerly condoned or ignored by society by reminding them of the reality of judgment and the omnipresent eye of God, who saw and remembered all.²⁶ In this sense, it was ethical and social in emphasis. But it was also overtly theological, challenging the religious equivalent of latifundialization that the Quraysh had established, wherein their control of the Ka'ba meant that the people's worship was not their own; worship could only happen on the terms of cultic centralization implemented by the Quraysh. Islam's voice was also a cry against the injustice of not being able to worship freely and without human intermediaries, not unlike the first spark of the Christian movement.²⁷ Finally, it was also, like Amos 5:21-24, a warning of God's omnipotence and omniscience, which would be brought to bear against sinners in the fires of judgment; it was speaking of divine wrath as a theological response to concrete injustices in Meccan society.

The similarities and differences in biblical and Qur'anic prophetic voice should be evident by this point; 1) both speak from the ground up, condemning different forms of latifundialization from the perspective of the poor and not the rich, 2) both are reflections on the behavioral and historical state of society, 3) both invoke images of God's wrath and indignation at the socio-religio-economic injustices committed by society, 4) the Prophet Muhammad prescribes a fleshed out religio-ethical system where Amos does not, 5) Islamic prophethood elaborates on biblical prophethood by adding a distinction of roles between nabi and rasul, of which Muhammad was both, and 6) both invoke images of divine wrath as a theological response to concrete injustices.²⁸

If there is anything that I personally take from this comparison/contrast, it is that Islamic prophetic voice, at its core, is not inconsistent with biblical prophethood. The emphasis may be different, but they are concurrent on what concrete points they address. God's wrath is clearly defined in terrifying detail, and while I may have found this unattractive in my youth, I now realize how powerful this imagery was to its original audiences. The bible and the Qur'an both were written in a world hungry for justice, waiting for the divine wrath of God to address the wrongs and systemic evils that perpetuated themselves in society. Whether it is the deluge of Amos or the fire of the Qur'an, prophetic voice speaks to real injustices suffered by real people, men and women both. Perhaps a wrathful God has a rightful place in our holy books. Whether nabi or rasul, prophets bear important messages, and I find myself more open to the message of the Qur'an now.

Works Cited:

Brettler, Marc Z. How to Read the Bible. First ed. Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 2005. 152-160. Print.

Holy Bible: New Revised Standard Version. San Francisco, Harper One, 1989.

Shalom, Paul M. A Commentary on the Book of Amos. First ed. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Press, 1991. 1-2. Print.

Aslan, Reza. No god but God: The Origins and Evolution of Islam. First Edition ed., New York City, Random House, 2005, pp. 3-40.

The Qur'an. New York City, Oxford University Press, 2004.

Pippin, Andrew, editor. The Blackwell Companion to The Qur'an. First Edition ed., Malden, MA, Blackwell Publishing, 2006, pp. 197-241.

Trible, Phyllis, and Letty M. Russell, editors. Hagar, Sarah, and Their Children. Fir ed., Louisville, KY, Westminster John Knox Press, 2006, pp. 9-152.

Afzaal, Ahmed. "The Origin of Islam as a Social Movement." Islamic Studies, vol. 42, no. 2, 2003, pp. 205-16. JSTOR. Accessed 11 Nov. 2016. www.jstor.org/stable/20837269

1Please note that the lack of the proper adage “Peace be upon him” is omitted hereafter not out of disrespect, but in the interest of saving space and not bogging down the voice of the paper whenever his name is mentioned.

2Brettler, How to Read the Bible, p 160

3Brettler, p 152

4Exodus 15:17, Numbers 26:53 NRSV

5Paul Shalom, A Commentary on the Book of Amos, pp 1-2

6Shalom, p 2

7 Isaiah 5:9; Micah 2:1-2, NSRV

8Amos 5:21-24, NRSV

9Aslan, No God but God: The Origins and Evolution of Islam, p 7

10Aslan, p 3

11Qur'an – Haleem translation, Surah 5:109-120

12Blackwell Companion to the Qur'an (BCQ), p 240

131^st Corinthians 12:28-31 NRSV

14BCQ, p 241

15Qur'an, Surah 19:51

16Hagar, Sarah and Their Children (HSaTC), p 9

17HSaTC, p 152.

18Aslan, p 24

19Aslan, p 18-19

20Aslan p 25

21BCQ, 197

22Aslan, 23

23BCQ, 199-201

24Aslan, p 40

25Ahmed Afzaal, The Origin of Islam as a Social Movement, p 205

26Qur'an, Surah 2:77, 14:38

27Mark 11:15-19, NRSV

28Afzaal, 216"