sex and spirit: a week on song of songs

Well, I am taking my courage in both hands and preparing to start a week of blogging on that fascinating biblical text, the Song of Songs. I'm not planning anything like a systematic theological discussion, rather a series of responses (including some historical stuff, a movie review and some modern lyrics) that represent different angles on the text. I hope to start tomorrow or the next day, and I'd certainly appreciate your company as I step into dangerous territory!

justice and beauty

On Friday night we went to hear N T Wright speak on 'Justice and Beauty'. It was a talk clearly aimed at a general (Christian) audience, rather than a rigorous theological exploration, but good nonetheless. Below is a skeleton outline of his talk...

Wright began by discussing human longings for justice and beauty, and the way that these longings have been explained and responded to in major philosophical and religious traditions. He identified three basic philosophical responses to the desire for justice (and beauty):
- the desire for justice (or beauty) is simply a projection of childish fantasies; there is no such thing as absolute justice (or beauty) and maturity requires us to accept that.
- the desire for justice (or beauty) is a sign of a perfect world which has no relation to this one
- the desire for justice (or beauty) is a call from a person who is committed to bringing true justice to the world.
He differentiated justice from beauty more strongly than I have, but it will do for a summary!

He then suggested that the life, death and resurrection of Jesus is the way God begins his transformation of this world into a place of perfect justice and beauty. The resurrection is particularly important in this regard, because it means that there is continuity between this creation and the new creation. If God is committed to the transformation of this creation, then we must not simply see ourselves as killing time here, waiting for another, perfect world. Instead we need to be part of God's work in this world, which has been begun through Jesus' death and resurrection, is continued in the world now, and will be completed when Jesus comes again.

In regard to justice and beauty, we (Christians) need to consider two questions:
1. how can we implement God's justice?
[From my notes]: A commitment to justice is part of recognising the meaning of the resurrection. The resurrection is revolutionary (here he compared the politically active Pharisees and the politically quietist Sadducees). Christians have gone to two extremes in regard to justice:
- seeing preaching the gospel as the only really significant task for Christians, with 'bandaid' charity as a response to justice issues
- trying to bring in the kingdom here and now by our own efforts (trying to pull the world up by its bootstraps!)
Instead, we need to demonstrate a commitment to justice while understanding the framework of God's work in the world. Wright said he wanted to go on the record as saying that the international economic imbalance was the biggest justice issue for Christians today and we must be involved in debt relief and other measure that will address these inequalities.
2. how can we celebrate God's beauty?
[straight from notes again] Beautiful things are more beautiful when you know the beautiful purposes they are made for. eg. a violin
Christians need to see art not as an 'extra' in life, but as an integral part of responding to God's world. To continue to affirm that there is beauty in the world is to testify that it is God's world. We need to avoid the extremes of sentimentalism and brutalism, both of which deny the realities of life. In the question time he gave some examples of art that manages to avoid these extremes, both among Christians and others. Interestingly, most of the questions were about beauty, whereas I would have liked to ask about justice... I'll collect my thoughts and blog about that soon.

the archbishop on history

[T]he very effort to make any kind of historical narrative can be seen as a sort of act of faith, faith that massive disruption does not in fact destroy the possibilities of understanding, and thus the possibility of a shared world across gulfs of difference... this also helps us see why for a Christian the writing of history is bound to be theological in some ways. It is not that considerations of doctrine decide the results of research; God forbid. But the possibility of telling a consistent or coherent story about how God's people have lived is inescapably, for the believer, the possibility of seeing two fundamental theological points. God's self-consistency is to be relied on (ie. God is not at the mercy of historical chance and change); and thus relation to God can be the foundation of a human community unrestricted by time or space, by language or cultural difference.

Rowan Williams, 'Why Study the Past', p.22.

made me laugh

On the weekend, Andrew and I drove to my parents' place and had to stop at a set of traffic lights just around the corner from their house. The lights were red for an incredibly long time, so we sat and waited, and waited, and waited. After a few minutes of this, Andrew sighed impatiently and said, 'OK, now I am officially bawdy'.

holy terror

It's been a full couple of weeks - writing, teaching, avoiding the Commonwealth Games and visiting our families up north for a wedding. All good stuff, but not very conducive to blogging. One interesting little kerfuffle I would have liked to comment on, was the debate over the Crusades that blew up in The Australian newspaper. Particularly interesting to me at present, as I've just been discussing the Crusades in the church history tutorial I run. The newspaper reported that a history text being used in some Australian schools draws a comparison between the Islamic terrorists who destroyed the Twin Towers and the twelfth century Crusaders. Now that comparison may be useful in exploring us-and-them assumptions in high schoolers, but it is entirely weak from a historical viewpoint - it ignores the development of strategies of terror as a means of waging war over the past hundred years or so. I was fascinated, however, by the response to this article, which was to debate the merits of the Crusades. A number of senior scholars came out to defend the Crusaders (see the article linked above) and The Australian also published an editorial defending them. I'm amazed at the extent to which this twelfth-century European Catholic escapade is still clearly part of 'our' conscious history, with all these emotive connotations!

religious worlds

I've been reading Robert Orsi on the weaknesses of religious studies as a discipline:

"Any approach to religion that foregrounds ehtical issues as these are now embedded in the discipline obstructs our understanding of religious idioms because religion at its root has nothing to do with morality. Religion does not make the world better to live in (although some forms of religious practice might); religion does not necessarily comform to the credal formulations and doctrinal limits developed by cultured and circumspect theologians, church leaders, or ethicists; religon does not unambiguously orient people toward social justice. Particular religious idioms can do all of these things. The religious motivated civil rights movement is a good example of a social impulse rooted in an evangelical faith and dedicated to a more decent life for men and women. But however much we may love this movement and however much we may prefer to teach it (as opposed to the "cultic" faith of Jonewtown or the "magical" beliefs of "popular" religion) this is not the paradigm for religion, nor is it the expression of religion at some idealized best. There is a quality to the religious imagination that blurs distinctions, obliterates boundaries - especially the boundaries we have so long and so carefully erected within the discipline - and this can, and often does, contribute to social and domestic violence, not peace. Religion is often enough cruel and dangerous, and the same impulses that result in a special kind of compassion also lead to destruction, often among the same people at the same time. Theories of religion have largely served as a protection against such truths about religion."

Robert A. Orsi, Between Heaven and Earth: The Religious Worlds People Make and the Scholars Who Study Them, 191.

Oscars

I watched a bit of the Oscars last night. I've only watched them once before, and I hadn't remembered them being quite such an exercise in self-congratulation. Certainly, the line-up of contenders this year (movies like Goodnight and Goodluck, Syriana, Brokeback Mountain, Transamerica, North Country) tackle some significant issues in courageous ways. But the general tone of the evening seemed to be 'aren't we all so politically subversive, socially aware and culturally progressive'. This is Hollywood we're talking about! The MC, Jon Stewart from The Daily Show, seemed to be the only person questioning this self-indulgent perspective. My favorite moment was when he commented on Charlize Theron's role in North Country: he quipped that after making a movie about a world where women were judged on the basis of their looks and paid significantly less than men, it must be a real relief to leave that world behind and get back to Hollywood. You could have heard a pin drop - not a snicker to be heard! Message to Jon: it's all very well criticising those bigots in Wyoming, chauvinists in middle America or corrupt politicians in Washington, but not pointing out a few obvious home truths!

N T Wright

OK, this I am very excited about!

N T Wrights Visit to Melbourne:

Renowned New Testament scholar N T Wright is visiting Melbourne 23-26 March 2006.

Teaching Nights (7.30-9.30pm)

Hawthorn Town Hall, 360 Burwood Road, Hawthorn

Thursday 23rd March 2006

Evil & the justice of God.

Friday 24th March 2006

Beauty & Justice - using the arts to rethink & re-express the Christian faith in a postmodern world.

Seminar (10am - 4pm)

Friday 24th March 2006

Rethinking Resurrection: Hope for the world & for now

the cross and the crown

One of the most influential historical 'takes' on early Methodism was that offered by E.P. Thompson in his book 'The Making of the English Working Class'. Thompson was a Methodist minister's son and a Marxist, and he offered a compelling and (in many ways) insightful portrayal of nineteenth-century Methodism that was almost entirely hostile. Methodism, he argued, was the method by which the English working class was transformed into a docile industrial workforce. Methodism taught the English poor that life was crucifixion, and that disciplined work was the path to salvation. Thompson used the memorable phrase 'psychic masturbation' to describe the outpourings of emotion at Methodist meetings: these 'Sabbath orgasms of feeling' were the result of a week-long repression of all normal emotion in the disciplines of work.
Now Thompson was wrong about a lot of things, but he was right about the 'life as crucifixion' bit. His main argument is based on Charles Wesley's hymns, which do encourage Methodists to believe that suffering is the only path to sanctification, and so Christian life will be a pattern of cross followed by heavenly crown. In the chapter I've just rewritten, I've been assessing Thompson's argument from a number of angles: was he right about the message of the hymns, do they represent broader Methodist opinion, and did the construction of life as crucifixion really lead to political quietism. The answers, for anyone who's interested are yes, not entirely and possibly.
While I agree with Thompson in parts, I am arguing strongly that the 'cross and crown' model of life does not always lead to acceptance of the status quo. In fact, quite the opposite. I end my chapter with the story of Dorothy Ripley, a Methodist woman who sailed from Whitby to America alone in 1801 to campaign against American slavery. Ripley spent the next 30 years working against slavery, crossing the Atlantic nine times, speaking to Congress, confronting angry slaveholders, starting schools for ex-slaves and eventually campaigning for prison reform and the protection of Native American rights. At the beginning of her first journey to America, she wrote in a prayer: 'And if great suffering be my allotment to ally me to thee, let me never shrink from the bitter cup offered in mercy.' For Ripley, the conviction that 'great suffering' was a valuable part of sanctification helped sustain her through the pains and demands of a life of activism.
I've written before about my ambivalence about the history of evangelical activism: often paternalistic and ignorant, doing much harm as well as good. But there is no doubt in my mind that evangelicals have sustained the kind of passionate, difficult, sacrifical activism that they have because of precisely the conviction that Thompson decries. The cross is inevitable but it leads to the crown. While writing this chapter I had my argument confirmed by a quote from Charles Marsh's book about faith-based activism in the US, The Beloved Community. Marsh quotes a Pentecostal activist, working in community development in urban ghettos, who says in regard to Christian unwillingness to work for and with the poor: 'People don't want to accept that the cross comes before the crown'.

relationships

The Relationships Foundation is an organisation I've been interested in for a while now. They are a 'think and do tank' that starts from the principle that relationships are the most important thing in life. They are therefore interested in promoting good relationships at all levels of society, in families and workplaces, between different social and racial groups, as well as between nations. A big task! They provide training and consultants for organisations and communities trying to think and work more relationally, and have been involved (in the past) in peace negotiations in various trouble spots. If you're interested, check out their website for info, resources and to sign up for their newsletter.

Leviathan

Andrew and I have just finished reading Boris Akunin's novel Leviathan - another great read from the Russian crime novelist. Leviathan is a variation on the theme of the classic English detective novel - a terrible crime, a set number of possible murderers all on board a gigantic cruise ship, a bumbling French detective, and the dashing Russian diplomat Erast Fandorin on hand to unmask the villain. It's funny and it's clever and the translation is extremely skillful. We recommend!

reverence

Sunday was the Feast of the Transfiguration, and we had a sermon on reverence at church. In passing, our Reverend reflected on the lack of reverence in the modern world... he lamented the passing of a time when Australians were, by and large, godfearing and reverence towards things like sex and religion was part of the culture.
I've been thinking about the sermon and about the issue of 'reverence'. It seems to me that if it is indeed true that our society is less reverent, there are significant reasons for that. For most westerners at the end of the twentieth century, it might seem fairly obvious that reverence is a dangerous attitude. Reverence towards governments ends up with all your young men dead in wars that have nothing to do with you, reverence towards the church results in a nightmarish plague of abuse, reverence towards sex leaves people ignorant and afraid... and reverence towards God seems to create a culpable blindness that allows such horrors to be perpetuated. For us in the church, shouting at people 'BE MORE REVERENT' doesn't seem like much of a solution. And reverence in itself is surely not what God desires. It's reverence towards God, and God understood in all his grace and goodness.
Surely it's only as we reflect our own reverence for God... in a respect for his world, in a profound valuing of all the people he's made, in a rejection of the false gods of money and power, in persevering at building a community that is made up not just of people like us but of all who confess their need of God's grace, in the constant telling and retelling of the stories he has told us about himself, in a humility about ourselves and our own opinions... surely that's when people will see a reason for reverence.

writing and seduction

Another thought from the writing masterclass, on writing as a love affair. The speaker suggested that in a book (as opposed to in a thesis) we aim to seduce the reader, to make them fall in love with our voice. This means that the topic of the book is almost an excuse: we want the reader not to love our subject, but to love our 'take' on that subject. We are jealous (in the OT sense of a 'jealous' God!) of our readers' affections and attention, wanting them to be wholly ours. This has particular significance for the way we quote others. In a thesis, we quote others as 'authorities', because we are not presenting ourselves as authoritative. Their voices lend weight to ours. But in a book, we are careful not to allow the voices of others ever distract the reader from our, central, authoritative voice. To use the speaker's example, we would not want someone to sleep with us because we were friends with Kant'. But we might tell a joke about Kant to make ourselves look intelligent and attractive!
Again, I'm beguiled (I should say seduced!) by this analogy. But is writing really such an egotistical activity?

writing and virtue

I spent yesterday at a masterclass on writing for postgraduates in the humanities. A stimulating day, hearing from a number of academics who write for broader audiences than just those within their field. One of the speakers got me thinking about the importance of hatred in thinking and writing. He argued that (among other motivations) most of us are driven by a hatred of a particular approach to our subject. While this hatred is important and valuable as a motivation, it must not infect our writing, which has to be (his word!) 'lovely'.
Interesting! I realised that I do indeed hate (quite passionately) a particular, long-standing approach to Methodist history which to my mind has flattened an entirely fascinating religious culture into a bland, respectable, deathly boring set of theological propositions. And I am certainly driven by that hatred to write about early Methodism in a way that will somehow rescue it from that fate. The question is, do I embrace that hatred or regard it with suspicion? After all, I don't hate the people who've written the books I detest - I meet them at conferences and they are kind and delightful people. But hatred of an intellectual approach does spawn a lack of respect for people, an arrogance about my own ideas, a sneering attitude towards particular schools of thought. And that doesn't seem very virtuous!

At the tent flap sin crouches.

I've long been a fan of Robert Alter and his sensitive approach to the biblical texts. His book The Art of Biblical Narrative transformed my understanding of the OT. He has recently published a translation of the Pentateuch - James Woods has an excellent review here. Thanks to Greg for pointing it out!

right to work

In one of my first entries on this blog, I wrote about my time visiting asylum seekers in detention here in Melbourne. I haven't been out to the detention centre for a while, because there are hardly any asylum seekers kept in detention here anymore - the overall numbers of people in detention have dropped and those who are still in detention are kept well out of the public eye in desert centres.
The situation for those asylum seekers who have been allowed into the community is not great, however. In particular, there are around 7000 people who have been issued a visa called the Bridging Visa E. Under this visa people are not allowed to work and given no access to Medicare. That's right, they have no source of income and no way of paying their bills. If their children get sick, they can't take them to the doctor. I heard of one man who accidentally cut his finger off and didn't go to hospital because he knew he had no way of paying the bill.
These people are entirely dependent on charity. It is an absolutely disgraceful situation. The Uniting Church has begun a campaign to change the conditions of the Bridging Visa. If you're an Australian, please join the campaign. TEAR Australia has information and a letter-writing guide.

beards

February heralds an influx of PhD students back into the building I work in, prompting the question: is there some kind of deep connection between PhDs and beards? I rarely see a beard away from university, whereas a male postgrad without a beard is notable. And once Andrew and I were at a work dinner for one of the organizations he works with... table after table of cleanshaven men in business suits. Andrew said he'd introduce me to some of the scientists who work for the organization - and there they were, a row of boys with beards. I felt immediately at home.
What's with beards? And is there a female equivalent?

Royal Society

After reading Neal Stephenson's Baroque Trilogy, I have the entirely ridiculous notion that I am on intimate terms with the 17th century scientists who were members of the Royal Society (Newton, Wren, Hooke and co.) I'm therefore delighted to see that the Society minutes have been discovered in someone's cupboard.

what I do (and why)

I recently applied for a writing course and was required to submit a 500 word piece of writing, describing my research in a way that would be accessible to the general (educated) reader. Writing it made me aware of how attached I have become to certain academic norms - it seems sacrilegious to include quotes without footnotes, and I keep feeling the desire to qualify every statement. Here's what I wrote:

The history of human suffering divides naturally into the time before the invention of anasthetics and the time after. We who live in the latter time may find ourselves reluctant to imagine the experience of those who lived without the comfort of relatively effective pain relief. Theirs was a world in which a blow to the head was one of the few possible preparations for surgery; in which toothache drove people to suicide; in which a peaceful death was a rare blessing. Theirs is the world in which I immerse myself, in my study of the experience of suffering in eighteenth-century England.

Consider the description of a mastectomy sent to Charles Wesley, the Methodist revivalist and hymn-writer, in 1758. Entitled 'An account of Mrs Davis' behaviour during the operation of her breast being cut out', it is written by a friend who attended the operation. She writes of Mrs Davis:

'When the inside of her breast was taken out, she asked if they had done cutting. I answered yes, and some thread being called for, she immediately said 'There is some in my work basket on the table'. While they sewed up the blood vessel, she said 'This pain is very great'. She called on the Lord to strengthen her and said 'I'm faint'.'

This account is matter-of-fact in its description of details: the call for thread, the calm instruction by Mrs Davis, the sewing up of the flesh. Reading it, the imagination revolts. How did men and women endure such pain?

The very existence of this account suggests the importance of this question to those who wrote and read this description as well. Charles Wesley and the anonymous woman who composed this account were involved in the Methodist movement. Methodism was a revivalist sect within the Church of England that grew with staggering rapidiy during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, becoming in the process an established international denomination. As this account suggests, Methodists took a profound interest in a person's behaviour while in the crucible of physical agony. Mrs Davis's self-control in the face of suffering was evidence of the strength of her faith and so worthy of description to her fellow-Methodists.

In their journals and letters, in their hymns and sermons, Methodists explored the meaning of suffering and the means by which it could be managed and endured. Through reading these texts, I seek to answer the questions that intrigue me. What did suffering mean to Charles Wesley and his fellow Methodists? What shaped their responses to the physical and emotional pains of life? How did they maintain their faith in a loving (if stern) God in the face of horrors such as these? The answers to these questions are not only important for understanding this influential religious movement and the culture within which it developed, but they also provide a historical context within which we can reflect on the hard questions that the experience of suffering continues to provoke.

quote

'Once during my time teaching in Wesley College, after four terms taking a particular class through the history of the church in the ancient world and the Middle Ages, one of my students asked in despair "But where is the good news in all of this?" It was a fair question, to which I could best reply that all the story was good news. The history of Christianity is frequently sordid and depressing, and very frequently, apparently sacred events turn out to have very secular causes. Christians will remain beginners in their faith if they do not face up to this. The miracle of the church's story is that after all its mistakes, bewildering transformations and entanglements in human bitterness, it is still there'

Diarmaid MacCulloch, Groundwork of Christian History, p 11.