Basiliea Tou Theou

The concept of pacifism in a Christian context raises the concept of "just war," an idea originated by Augustine in his apologia for Christianity, The City of God. Augustine was trying to resolve the conflict between the empire of Rome and the empire of God (the basiliea tou theou). It was that conflict, of course, that led to the crucifixion of Christ and the mocking sign: o basileus ton Ioudaion ("King of the Jews"). Augustine wanted to give Roman Christians the ability to keep one foot in each realm, an idea itself that can be criticized as distinctly un-Christian. "Just war" is part of this concept: that one can be a citizen of two realms. But, as Jesus said, you cannot serve two masters. One of them will demand your loyalty above your obligations to the other, and how then do you choose? Who gives you your life? God, or Caesar? To whom do you give it up, if demand is made?

It is the basiliea tou theou that is the stumbling block: the empire of God that is meant to be all-encompassing. Jesus, and Paul after him, proclaimed a complete alternative to the empires of this world. Israel itself found its identity in a covenant with the God of Abraham, a covenant that only belatedly turned into a kingdom, and when that kingdom was taken away from them for their injustice and greed, it was replaced with a kingdom that could never be taken away.

But one that could be abandoned. And the concept of this basiliea is just as controversial now, as it was in first century Palestine. It could be argued, in fact, that the origin of individuality, of the concept of the individual, began there.

Prior to the emergence of Romanticism, the "modern" concept of the individual was all but unknown. "That solitary individual" to whom Kierkegaard dedicates Purity of Heart is a wholly Romantic ideal, but one founded (consciously, in the case of Rouseeau; less explicitly in the case of Kierkegaard, raised in a church started by a conscience tormented former Augustinian monk) on the concept originated by Augustine, in his attempt to explain his conversion to himself, and to the collapsing Roman empire and the citizens of that empire in which he lived. Krister Stendahl has argued quite persausively that "Augustine may well have been one of the first to express the dilemma of the introspective conscience" (and noting that in this Luther was "a truly Augustinian monk"). Krister Stendahl, Paul Among Jews and Gentiles (Philadelphia, Fortress Press 1976), p. 83. Stendahl's essay is aimed at the interpretation of Paul's letters, but the thesis he employs is applicable here: that what we generally consider human nature is not essentially the same throughout the ages. Some of what we cover with that umbrella term may be immutable, but some of what we consider immutable is certainly highly changeable, and has changed over history, and from culture to culture. The "introspective conscience" is Stendahl's aim, and he links it directly to Augustine:

For Paul had not arrived at his view of the Law [Stendahl is concerned with Romans 7:19] by testing and pondering its effect upon his conscience; it was his grappling with the question about the place of the Gentiles in the Church and in the plan of God, with the problem Jews/Gentiles or Jewish Christians/Gentile Christians, which had driven him to that interpretation of the Law which was to beome his in a unique way.....

Yet it was not until Augustine that the Pauline thought about the Law and Justification was applied in a consistent and grand style to a more general and human problem....His Confessions is the first great document in the history of the introspective conscience. The Augustinian line leads into the Middle Ages and reaches its climax in the penitential struggle of an Augustinian monk, Martin Luther, and his interpretation of Paul. (Stendahl, pp. 84-85)

Recognizing this can have a very upsetting effect on one's assumptions about individual actions and the concept of corporate responsibility. Is it even possible to think of oneself as an individual, and yet not think of oneself in terms of an introspective conscience. Stendahl's thesis is that it is not only possible, but that it is precisely how Paul saw himself and the world, and so when he says "Miserable sinner that I am!," it is not a cri de couer or a mea culpa such as we, in a post-Augustinian world, imagine it. No more so than Paul would automatically interpret the act of the prostitute in Luke's anointing story as an outward display of an inward act of conscience. That kind of introspection, which we think so fundamental to "human nature," is not so fundamental at all. It is the result of human thought, of philosophy; of the efforts of a saint of the church.

Which realization makes everything more interesting. So, where, then, do I find my identity? In the introspection of my conscience, my personal place before God? Or in my community, my empire, neighborhood, family, friends? No one, truly, is alone: but our ideal "individuals," be they Thoreau or Byron or Kierkegaard, are all products of Romanticism, and this is the lingering effect of Romanticism, that we still seek to praise the indivdual, be it an action adventure hero or a moral hero, above and apart from any group.

So the basiliea tou theou poses the uncomfortable question: whose side are you on? Is your identity founded in family? "I have come to set a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law, and a man will find enemies under his own roof." (Matthew 10:34-6, REB). Is your identity in the ruler, the country, the empire? "Pay the emperor what belongs to the emperor, and God what belongs to God!" (Matthew 22:10, SV) [note the Greek here is "kaisar," the obvious root for the German word "Kaiser." We are too prone to think of "Caesar" as a personal name, not a title] Or are you a citizen of the basiliea tou theou?

As Arundhati Roy says: "Radical change will not be negotiated by governments." If the bailiea tou theou is not here and now, then the question has no purpose, and the need to live it, see it, even to proclaim it, is pointless. We do not prepare the way of the Lord; we do not usher in the age, we do not negotiate for its presence at some time in the future, when everyone and all governments are ready. God can truly raise children of Abraham from the stones; God doesn't need us to act. But if we are called into the basiliea, if we are at last invited to "Come, buy grain and eat; come, buy wine and milk, not for money, not for a price," surely we should make that invitation to everyone. And if we hear that invitation, how can we accept it if we do not accept the reality, here and now, of that basiliea? And if we accept the reality of that basiliea, and the invitation into that basiliea, how can we then refuse the law, the comands, of that kaisar, the emperor of this empire? Not the command to be holy, but the command to be humble, to be servants, to live as if the first are indeed last, and the last first.

"Yet at the coming of the king of heaven/all's set at six and seven"

Alright, so, I wandered over to Crooked Timber for lack of anything better to do, and found myself in the middle of a conversation apparently concerned with John Rawls' Theory of Justice, a theory I've never found particularly satisfactory anyway. The critique cited is one new to me, but the conclusion reached at the blog was what was interesting:

The difference principle may tell you how not to get either justice or fairness while still doing the right thing. This is so different from what Rawls thinks he is giving us that it is really striking.

I'm not trying to wade too deeply into this discussion, because the last time I bothered to read Rawls was in law school (lo these nearly 25 years ago!), and I understand he has revised some of the Theory since then. But the basic ideas of Rawls' theory are these:
no one knows his place in society, his class position or social status, nor does anyone know his fortune in the distribution of natural assets and abilities, his intelligence, strength, and the like. I shall even assume that the parties do not know their conceptions of the good or their special psychological propensities. The principles of justice are chosen behind a veil of ignorance."

This is known as the "original position." From it, Rawls determines the best course for any society is to maximize the position of the least well-off, since that could be you. The principles chose, then:

...are the principles that rational and free persons concerned to further their own interests would accept in an initial position of equality as defining the fundamentals of the terms of their association.

This leads to the first principle of justice, or the "liberty principle:"

First: each person is to have an equal right to the most extensive scheme of equal basic liberties compatible with a similar scheme of liberties for others.

And that, in turn, leads to the "difference principle," where social and economic inequalities are arranged to benefit the least-advantaged members of society. One response to the vision of such a world was Vonnegut's "Harrison Bergeron"(although, to be fair, that wasn't the society Rawls' envisioned). Another response is the "kidnapping" scenario discussed at Crooked Timber, where it might be prudent to pay off kidnappers, but it's hardly fair or just. As Crooked Timber points out, the same can be said for bailing out Wall Street. It may be doing the right thing; but it hardly seems fair or just.

Why doesn't this critique surprise me? Because Rawls' is working within a constraint that ends his effort before it begins. He begins with the assumption that a utilitarian model is the most ethical social model imaginable; and yet it isn't ethical enough, because it isn't fair enough. So all he's trying to do is to tweak the model until, at least in theory, it is more just. But the central problem is that justice is both ideal and real, both metaphysical and imminent. In fact, this is why Aristotle placed metaphysics as the first subject above the physical, and made it superior. Metaphysics, said Aristotle, is the realm of the cause of the physical. It is, in other words, metaphysics, be it merely the realm of the abstract or the Kantian Ideal, which gives rise to any production or even effort toward, justice in concreto. Rawls' theory, like utilitarianism itself, starts with the concrete and then seeks a justification for it that will suit an ideal. Neither theory pushes society toward an ideal, or even holds out that ideal as a reality to which it should strive even if it can never be achieved. Instead, both theories describe the present situation and propose a few minor adjustments which will inconvienence no one, but can be used to reassure us that we are doing something for someone; or even better, for society at large, maybe even (albeit unintentionally) for ourselves.

And yet we don't have to so much as turn a hair.

The basiliea tou theou sort of resembles the original position, and would seem to reinforce the difference principle, except the basileia tou theou posits a metaphysical cause which provides a living purpose which makes it at the very least a Jamesian "living option," and that turns Rawls' "difference principle" on its ear. Rawls' wants us to act, or better establish a system (which will act for us) that recognizes the reality of the least advantaged. The basiliea tou theou sets before us the telos of being the least advantaged, and tells us not to rely on some system to seek justice for us, but to do justice by living the race to the bottom, to being last of all and servant of all (which will require a constant effort, once you get there, just to stay there). Then justice will be served not because everyone has as equitable a distribution of goods as society will tolerate, but because everyone is taking care of everyone else.

What else, after all, does a servant do, except serve?

And yet what a lot of activity that would incur; and what a lot of effort; and what a lot of doing for others, rather than expecting a society, a system, a government, a set of laws, even a church or a charity, to do it for us. As Crooked Timber puts it:

At best, the difference principle points out a correct (plausibly appealing) policy path in an environment in which you can’t get justice or fairness. More specifically: it points out a correct path in an environment in which securing justice and fairness would be prohibitively costly in terms of other genuine values.

It's very much a question, then, of what other genuine values require Christians (and no one else carries this burden) not to seek the bottom of society, to be last of all and servants of all. Because that's the one genuine value of the basileia tou theou; the one that makes all the others genuine, or not, in relation to is. Which would make the kergyma of the gospels the most prohibitively costly value of all.

But how else do you get justice or fairness at all?

The Paradox of Boundaries and Power

Even when I try to be as clear as I can be, apparently, I am unclear:

Sometimes, in other words, you have to compromise some of your principles in order to uphold others. The alternative is to let a small group of intransigent bullies dominate the system. This, it seems to me, is the problem that advocates of transformative politics have to answer. How is it exactly that politics are going to be transformed while the goons thoroughly control the place?

Some of my friends and colleagues have decided that the sacrifice of principle simply isn't worth it. Try to gain power, and you're dancing with the devil, they warn.

Perhaps. But the flip side to that equation is that without power, nothing can be done to protect the innocent, much less redirect a predatory political system.

There was a link in the original back to the blog of yours truly. I pity the persons following that link and trying to understand what it means. Let me clarify:

Pastor Dan and I are talking about apples and oranges. Pastor Dan wants to stay in Omelas and free the child and make the city over into the basileia tou theou. And I prefer to walk away from Omelas, because I know it cannot be remade, that Omelas cannot exist as Omelas without leaving the child in the basement; that to free the child is not to re-make Omelas, nor will it improve the child. The deal with the devil has been made, and we cannot unmake it. My proclamation of the basileia of God is as an alternative, a replacement, not a corrective.

Am I right? Do I consider myself more principled? I don't know; and no, I don't. It isn't a question of principle. I do not consider myself holier than thou, or in some way superior to Pastor Dan. That is the way of power. My way is the way of powerlessness. It is the way of humility. Does this mean bullies will continue to control the political process? Yes; just as they did in Jesus' day. It was not a generation after his crucifixion (an act of savagery that beggars description as "bullying", I know) when Roman soldiers slaughtered every man, woman, and child they could find in Jerusalem. I find references to that cataclysm in the Gospels, most likely inserted after the fact, as the Gospels themselves probably post date the destruction of Jerusalem. I find nothing in those references that is a call to arms against such horror, that is a demand that it be prevented, that is a rallying cry for an alternative political vision which will remove the brutal yoke of Roman "civilization" from the necks of the people of Israel. Indeed, the gospel message for this week (which I'll be getting to in another post) is about wars and rumors of wars; but it isn't about choosing sides for the fight. What it is about is being ready, and faithful, and trusting God to preserve those who hold fast to the way of God, the way of powerlesness, the way of the executed Savior, the Crucified God.

I've actually made this point to Pastor Dan before; but I will repeat myself, and make it again:

I'm a stickler on this point: power only and ever and always serves the ends of power. If God is not about the power of powerlessness, then Paul and I are agreed that the crucifixion was pointless, and all we're really waiting for is for God to get around to making us all believers, whether we like it or not.

But if God is about the power of powerlessness, then even taking up power in God's name is contrary to God's purpose. And a basiliea tou theou where the first are always last, and the last first, is a place with no political power at all.

My "principle" is in that first sentence. The rest is theology, and my sure conviction that the basiliea tou theou is about the race to the bottom, the race to be the servant, not the master; the race to give up power, not to attain it for whatever good purpose may be intended. Because it is my firm belief and experience that power only and ever serves the ends of power, and whoever wields it, for whatever reason, is mistaken in thinking the control it. Power serves its own ends, and it uses you as it used the person before you, and will use the person after you. It uses you only to make power effective. Does this create some sort of anthropic principle for power, give it anthropomorphism it does not deserve? Perhaps; but we cannot understand the world except for the anthropic stance of how we experience it, so I consider that a small objection indeed, in light of the larger truth it reveals.

So it isn't a principled stance on my part; it's a theological one. It is my belief, my faith, my understanding of the kerygma of the Gospel. Because if the meaning of the crucifixion was that Jesus was the ultimate power, and his resurrection the sign of the awesome power of God over all creation, then, well...we knew that, didn't we? And we are just back to the voice in the whirlwind speaking to Job, answering nothing and declaring itself justified. It means the awful agonies of the cross were just a bit of stage production by a God who couldn't be crucified, who couldn't die. It it not too much to say my entire understanding of Christianity rests on this paradox. To quote myself again:

There is no power without resistance. Power needs resistance not only to be powerful, but if it is going to exist at all. Without resistance power has no force. It is a blow against empty air, a fierce punch into darkness that meets no opposition. So power manufactures its own resistance, creates its own opponent.

It may well be there is far less difference between Pastor Dan and I than appears. After all, this discussion touches on the question of responsibility, which he claims makes him responsible for others against the power of those he identifies as bullies. There, again, I would disagree. It's a point I've made before: That which you most oppose, you most come to resemble. This is the problem with identifying yourself as opposition to whatever you consider evil. You stop identifying with your core, and start setting your boundaries against what you are not; and at precisely that point what you are not starts to define you. At that point the struggle against evil is endless, because evil is whatever you are not; and you can always find something you are not, something you are sure you must eradicate. But in seeking to eradicate that, you are seeking to eradicate yourself, because what you are not is what defines you.

Paradoxes abound.

Thomas Merton, writing about the desert fathers who fled collapsing civilization to live in the Egyptian deserts in the 4th century, said that there are times when it is every man and woman for him- or her-self, when the best you can do is to grab a piece of flotsam and hold on in the flood that is coming. Sometimes, in other words, the most Christian thing you can do is to save yourself, so that you can provide a witness to the world that will arise from the destruction. It may be we are in one of those times, again.

And in such times, it is not what you oppose which should define you.

Third Thursday of Advent 2025

Matthew 11:2-11 

The forerunner of Christ 

11:2 When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples 

11:3 and said to him, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" 

11:4 Jesus answered them, "Go and tell John what you hear and see: 

11:5 the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, those with a skin disease are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. 

11:6 And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me." 

11:7 As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: "What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? 

11:8 What, then, did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. 

11:9 What, then, did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 

11:10 This is the one about whom it is written, 'See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.' 

11:11 "Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist, yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. 

It's reversals all the way down. And the apocalypse of the eschaton. All in a few verses. 

I’m at risk of overstating the concept of the reversal. It’s supposed to be reserved for cosmic, or at least nation changing events, like Isaiah’s holy mountain vision, or Ezekiel’s vision of the valley of dry bones, or God’s throne chariot. But the reversal of individual physical conditions is exactly what Isaiah promised from God, and Jesus throws in the foundational principle of the basileia tou theou for good measure: the first shall be last, and the first of all last and servant of all. 

And for the cherry on the sundae, this is Jesus’ way of saying: “Fuck this shit.”

Look at verse 5. Jesus tells the disciples of John that everything is being undone, that God’s justice is being brought to the broken, the marginalized, the discarded and rejected. Lepers are healed, the blind see, the deaf hear. People literally blamed for their conditions and cast aside as “unclean,” are the first to receive God’s good news. Not the “blessed,” not the “worthy,” not the rich or the “best and the brightest,” but the invisible, the ptochoi, the ones with nothing and with no worth in society.

Fuck this shit. Time to do something about it. And then Jesus asks why they went to the wilderness to see John, and Isaiah is evoked again. What was a guy in the wilderness worth to society, after all? Isaiah tells his audience to give hope to the broken as a way of preparing them for the restoration that is to come. Jesus tells them “You went out to see a prophet of God,” which is to say someone speaking God’s truth. Now see that truth in action. But the truth is not a triumph; it’s a paradox. It’s that paradox we celebrate every year at Christmas.

In Luke’s nativity, the angels tell the shepherds “This will be a sign to you. You will find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.” Not much of a sign of identification. Kind of like saying “You will find a newborn at the maternity ward, in the nursery.” But that’s not the “sign.” The sign is that the savior, is a helpless child. The sign is the paradox: “God with us”starts out as helpless and in need of others, as all of us. And what was John preaching, except that we need to take care of each other? In Matthew!s story, that child faces danger from the government from the beginning. The Holy Family has to flee into Egypt to escape Herod’s massacre. When they come back after Herod’s death, they return to Nazareth, not Bethlehem, just to be sure it’s safe. God is powerless. God is at risk. From the beginning, we face the paradox of the power of powerlessness. And now the adult Jesus is telling us the least in the basileia tou theou is greater than John.

Because the first will be last, and the last first, and the first of all, the last and servant of all. Thanks be to God, because otherwise the basileia tou theou would just be the old world order over again, and what’s the point of that?

What’s the point of going to the wilderness, or going to the manger, if the world is already going to be there, its order and authority just reaffirmed? Surely a revelation is at hand! But it can’t be a revelation that the new boss is the same as the old boss; because what revelation is that? Fuck this shit! Where’s the justice? Where’s Mary’s vision?

Without the paradox, what’s the point?

But with the paradox? Ah! Thanks be to God for that!

Fight the Power

When I read the headline here, my first thought was Candide; specifically, the conclusion of Voltaire's wonderful novel, where Candide decides the only thing he can do is learn the lesson tending his own garden; and it is a lesson, says Candide, we all should learn.

Sadly, that wasn't quite the message Daniel Shultz (f/k/a "Pastor Dan") had in mind.  I still think it should have been.

He's right, American Protestants are too fractious a lot to group into one monolith split into two halves:  "Progressive/liberal" and "fundamentalist/evangelical."  The astute reader will note we aren't even touching on the Catholics and Orthodox varieties of American Christians.  They aren't monolithic, either, not even within their own denominations.  There's quite a distance between the U.S. Conference of Bishops and Catholic theologians like Gustavo Gutierrez and Jan Sobrino (prominent liberation theologians, the latter a Jesuit, IIRC).  But that's not the real problem with laying a smackdown on Donald Trump and his religious supporters because a) progressive/liberal Protestants (at least!) don't like Donald Trump and b)  it isn't Two Corinthians.

Stop me if you've heard this one....

It's a curious thing, but people in general resent the evangelical efforts of more conservative Christians; the ones whose theology teaches them that the Great Commission is a part of their soteriology; that their very salvation is dependent upon evangelizing others.  At the same time, when it suits their interests, non-evangelicals and non-Christians want progressive/liberal Christians to proselytize by countering the message of Donald Trump and his religious supporters.  Which pretty much reduces us to a useful club you want to wield when it suits you, and then put back in the golf bag when you're done with it.

Pardon me if I decline to serve as your best weapon.

But beyond that there's the whole problem of:  "What's in it for me?"  To decry Donald Trump because of his religious support is to weigh in on what kind of religious believer Donald Trump is.  And why on earth would I want to do that?  I grew up among well-meaning (and not so well-meaning) people determined to determine the quality of my religious faith.  Why would I want to engage in the same practice I despised in my youth?  I grew up realizing faith was a matter of actions, not words; but also, as I learned the language in seminary, to engage in judgment is to put yourself under judgment, too.  If I explain why Donald Trump is unworthy from a religious (more properly, theological) standpoint, don't I put my theology on trial and subject it to judgment?  So who am I to judge?  Do I hold an exalted position because I disagree with the supporters of Donald Trump? I don't support Donald Trump, period.  I am a Christian.  Do those two things require that I judge others for their support of Donald Trump?

Why?  Again, what's in it for me?  Is there a moral duty that I judge others?  As far as I can tell, that would run directly contrary to the teachings of Jesus of Nazareth.  It may be I strongly disagree with the religious opinions of Donald Trump and his supporters; but I may disagree with yours, too.  If I start with them, why should I stop with you?  No, you don't want my opinion; you are seeking what you think will be my power; my power for you.

Again, I decline to be your best weapon.

My theology teaches me to preach the basiliea tou theou by living the basiliea tou theou, and to the extent I do that, I consider myself faithful.  What my theology doesn't teach me is to set myself up in opposition to anyone else, not even the world.  I have no interest in reshaping the world to my perception by force:  by "saving" anyone or by gaining enough political power I can impose my theology/morality on others, or by proving others wrong by shouting my religious beliefs louder than they shout theirs.

If you want to do that, go right ahead.  But don't try to tell my I'm not doing it right because I won't accommodate you.  My beliefs are not a matter of your convenience.  Too many have already leant their beliefs to the convenience of political power; why should I lend mine?

On the other hand, Jonathan Orbell has a point:

Some of us feel a moral impulse to condemn the ugly sentiments at work in the Trump camp. But we have to keep the broader structural realities in mind—deindustrialization, an unequal economy recovery, the dissolution of the middle class.

A look at Trump’s most recent wins at the New Hampshire and South Carolina primaries as well as the Nevada caucus show that the reductive dismissiveness of progressive Christians is turning dangerous. A deeper, more graceful introspection to the root causes of Trump’s ascendance could go far in combating the very forces that have made him a viable presidential candidate.

Considering the stakes, we can’t afford not to do so.

I'm not so sure the utilitarian argument ("We can't afford not to do so") is the right one.  I prefer the theological argument:  countering the root causes of Trump's ascendance that Orbell describes is part of preaching and practicing the basiliea tou theou.   We don't do it (those who agree with me, I mean) because we have to; we do it because we are called to.  Maybe there's a compulsion there, still; but it's a compulsion with a different root.

The answer, after all, is not to fight power with power; the theological answer is to fight power with powerlessness.

What’s So Funny About Peace, Love, and Understanding?

“There is eternal life,” said Campbell, the senator who rebuked Rev. Harrison earlier this month. “And if we don’t expose or introduce our children and others to that, when they die they’ll have one birth and two deaths. Because they will know nothing about the afterlife, the eternity with God. But exposing them or introducing them to Ten Commandments, prayer – it asks other questions and they then have a choice in their future: Two births and one death.”

So, I’ve been spending a lot of time down the wormhole of nostalgia watching “Ghost in the Shell” movies. (Always something deliciously ironic about Japanese anime taking its title from a critique of Descartes’ dualism, which most people think is meant to properly describe Descartes’ dualism.) It’s all about computers and AI and the usual fiction about AI trying to take over the world. In fact, I think most of the GitS movies/tv episodes turn on that plot.  There’s almost always a “sentient” AI that goes rogue and fundamentally misunderstands human society. And it’s that gap between knowledge (what we’ve reduced to “data,” a true reductio ad absurdum), and understanding.

Let me illustrate my point this way: the rogue AI, having acquired all data, wants to exist, or experience humanity, or something. Or it could be a human hacker, wanting to straighten everyone else out, but small difference in the stories. There’s seldom real malice, but there is real disruption/danger in how they pursue their ends. Oddly, with all that data, they never manage to come up with a workable solution that doesn’t involve coercion (that’s the danger always present to give the narrative a conflict, otherwise it would just be a rather tedious lecture series (and, like most pretentious fiction, especially science fiction, a really bad set of lectures). The “innocence” of the antagonists are that they aren’t malicious; but the problem is, they have too much power, and that makes them dangerous.

But the unstated, unacknowledged problem is, they have data, but they seeking understanding. And understanding, not to put too fine a point on it, is a  Human thing.  Humans have to seek it, and often in these stories AI does too, without realizing it.

In fictional portrayals, AI can know, but it cannot understand; and that’s always the problem. I think that’s true of AI IRL, but that’s a subjective opinion, not a well researched and empirical one. What I’ve seen of AI use on the web, chat AI responses sound like understanding, but they are really just collections of words according to English vocabulary and syntax. Children can use words correctly without understanding. My daughter, when she was about 5, decided to show off for her grandparents (who were visiting), and, as the Lovely Wife and I sat watching “The X-Files,” the Golden Child walked into the room and asked in a loud voice: “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WATCHING?” She thought it was funny, and it was. But she didn’t, at the time, understand why.

Knowledge is one thing. She knew the words, even the syntax. What she didn’t understand was when, and when not, to ask that question. (To thus day her ringtone on my phone is the title song of that show.)

So the AI in GitS goes through elaborate machinations based on elaborate exposition (I like that kind of thing, but that’s me), to establish the motive for their actions. Now, it’s Japanese (one thing I like about; world shaking events happen in Japan, not Europe or the Americas), but the “ghost” is a real aspect of the characters; or at least they talk about it, in contrast to their techno “cyber brains.” AI has no “ghost.” Only humans do.  It’s a very Western reference to a “soul,” in other words. Which is what Descartes was on about.

And what occurs to me, over and over, is that if these sentient AI’s have consumed the data on the web (always presented metaphorically as a vast, deep, and  infinite sea), how are they so ignorant of the basileia tou theou? I mean, GitS never gets explicitly religious, be that Buddhism or Taoism, or Christianity, for that matter. So I’m not criticizing the reach of the fictional universe, I’m just pointing out there are descriptions of utopia (yes, I know: “no place”) available. But those concepts require understanding.

Just like the title of the series. Descartes was not, in his dualism, trying to describe a “ghost in the machine.” That is a criticism lodged against him much later. Most of us don’t understand that. We repeat the line and think we understand dualism a la Descartes (and so can simply dismiss it), when we don’t understand that we don’t understand at all. 

And what does this have to do with that quote above? That’s a Texas state senator talking. The Lege is in session in Austin, and some there want to get more Xianity (but not “religion!” Just Xianity) in Texas public schools for the express purpose of saving souls, because church attendance is in decline. Now we can sidebar about how some churches are more Xianity than others. That Senator undoubtedly would make common cause with Catholics on abortion (no, not all them; I understand that), while still thinking they are doomed to damnation because the RC is the Whore of Babylon. He’s probably convinced my UCC is the devil’s handmaid, and everyone in it needs to be saved. Two things about this; his attitude explains why I’ve rejected traditional Christian soteriology; and it reflects an understanding that could read the scriptures every day and NEVER come up with the understanding of the basileia tou theou that I have.

Forget the soteriology stuff; I was going to go there once upon a time, but now it impinges here the same way the other example does: he reads the scriptures in a framework I don’t anymore (and never fully did), and understands his soteriology as the whole point of it. But I read the scriptures and understands that the point of the gospels is that that the way to contentment and , yes, world peace, and the way to follow the will of God, is through the first being last and the last first, and the first of all being last and servant of all. I see quite clearly that if you want the world to be a better place, you seek first the basileia tou theou. And then you aren’t worried about him to force salvation from hellfire and damnation on public schoolchildren, because your only power is powerlessness. And if you understand that, how do you force that understanding on anyone?

Indeed, how do you force understanding at all, about anything? I spent 20 years (!) lecturing and trying to make students understand. I couldn’t do it for them, and I couldn’t make them do it. I could lead the horse to water, but I couldn’t make him think.

Now do you understand?

So how will AI ever understand? Acquiring all knowledge didn’t make Faust understand. The Preacher (Ecclesiastes), acquired knowledge, but understood (correctly),  that his pursuit was vanity and chasing after emptiness. I think I understand the gospels correctly; but so does that state senator (he also understands the First Amendment, and the purpose of public schools, incorrectly). How does he read the same words I do, and understand them so differently? Because, like the eunuch in Acts, he reads without understanding until someone explains scripture to him. And then it’s all about who does the explaining.

The last set of episodes of GisT I watched revolved around Orwell’s 1984. But the character who reads it and later models the world (or tries to) on it, says early on that he doesn’t understand it. And clearly, he doesn’t. He uses the terms: “Big Brother,” “doublethink,” “Ministry of Love,” even “Room 101.” But he doesn’t use them the way the novel did.  He creates a utopia, not a nightmare. But he does it through the technology of the fictional premise of GisT, and uses that to create a fiction that allows his utopia. Whether that’s an improvement, or not, is left to the audience. But without understanding, you can misunderstand a lot.

And that’s almost always the problem.

Baring reality

Whenever there is a discussion of affirmative action on the internet, you get some simply amazing comments.  Jamelle Bouie writes:

It matters too that affirmative action isn’t malicious discrimination against men or white Americans; it isn’t an effort to stigmatize those groups or prevent their movement through American society. It is simply an attempt to make American life substantively fair instead of superficially neutral. (And in actual practice, it is rare that a white candidate is actively rejected in favor of a nonwhite one. Instead, candidates and applicants are accepted and rejected independent of each other.)

Which prompts this, the "top comment":

" (And in actual practice, it is rare that a white candidate is activelyrejected [sic] in favor of a nonwhite one."

This has to be one of the more clueless statements in the history of Slate.  Nearly everything is finite.  There are limits to the numbers of admission slots at Harvard, jobs at Google, etc.  Every time one is given to someone for a non-merit reason, that same one has not been given to a more meritorious candidate.  This is unavoidable.

The nature of the non-merit reason is irrelevant.  If Harvard accepts a legacy kid whose parents give generously to the school even though the kid's SAT scores are not up to Harvard's normal standards they have necessarily and unavoidably deprived a higher-scoring kid of that spot.

Maybe that is their right.  Maybe you support that.  Fine, but don't tell me it isn't happening.  You can make a strong case for affirmative action without lying about the effects.  

Except the very concept of "merit" is specious.  Students from wealthy families with every advantage, including private education at the nation's finest schools, are not more "meritorious" than the student born in a Texas colonias who has access only to the poorly funded and largely disregarded public schools of Texas.  The former student didn't "earn" any merit that the latter student failed to provide evidence of.  It's simply ludicrous not to recognize the inequalities in a system that establishes "merit" on this basis; or to say that "merit" is somehow an objective standard which cannot be gainsaid (and don't get me started on the "merit" measured by SAT scores.  Might as well take account of IQ and astrological signs, while we're at it).  And, of course, the presumption in the argument is that "meritorious" candidates are white, and "non-meritorious" candidates are not, and gain access to the levers of social power (which is what Harvard, especially is about) improperly.  Because the system of legacy at a school like Harvard is a system for perpetuating inequality; and the idea that inequality is not overcome by imposing a different system of inequality is simply moonshine.  You might as well say we don't dispense justice by incarcerating truly innocent people, but due to poverty and lack of access to qualified representation and overcrowded dockets and loose handling of evidence and corrupt police officers and judges, it happens all the time.  We still call it a system of justice, and we still try to correct injustice by leveling the playing field in any way we can; but we still decry the application of justice to rich white people (what's Mueller looking for?  Must be a "fishing expedition!") that we regularly and more severely apply to poor people, especially on the basis of race.

But this is a "top comment" too, and really, it should be stricken from the boards instead:

Jamelle is being disingenuous when he says affirmative action is not "malicious discrimination against men or whites".  Of course it is. When you move from a meritocracy to a quota driven job allocation system, minorities and women will take jobs from whites and men (with the real SJW target being white men specifically, though Jamelle does not admit that either).  Punishing the majority is what its all about.  But as with most liberal social engineering efforts, affirmative action has led to outcomes which liberals don't like to discuss. For example, the big losers from the quota system at the Ivies is Asians, not whites.  Affirmative Action is built on the unstated liberal assumption that minorities can't compete with whites.  Asians ruin the party as they are a minority that outperforms whites academically.  But because Asians do not qualify for victim status, they are usually grouped in with whites (see April Glaser's recent article on the lack of diversity at Facebook, where she never uses the word Asian and lumps Koreans and Indians into the same pool as Germans and Irish).  The ongoing disaster of Affirmative Action needs to be put to bed now.  We need to guarantee equality of opportunity, and dispense with the leftist fantasy of equality of outcome.

"Whites" are, of course, the default standard everyone must live up to.  The words of Dr. King and LBJ on telling the bootless man to pull himself up by his bootstraps and unshackling a man after years of chains and putting him on the line to start the race, are cited by others.  But these realities are lost in the sea of white privilege, of the idea of "merit" being an objective standard no different than a yardstick or a meter (at least the latter has the distinction of being a unit of measure derived as a division of a given distance between two points on the globe, originally.  I'm not really sure how the measure of the yardstick was agreed upon.  Something about feet?).  It's laughable, but we can't bear to look too closely at it, lest we realize how invested we are in our position in the system.  "Go, go, go, said the bird, human kind/Cannot bear very much reality."

This is where I come back to my critique of Dan Schultz and Nicholas Laccetti.  We cannot change this system from inside and find our Christian goal because this system is not of God.  This is not the basilea tou theou gone corrupt over the centuries, and we must return to the original vision (the argument of many a Reformer in the era of the Reformation, and one that sounded throughout the 19th century in each new Christian denomination in America); this was never the basilea tou theou, any more than the Roman Empire was.  We must walk away from it entirely to get anywhere near to the world as God meant for us to live in.  But we don't get there by fostering injustice, by insisting that "merit" has a place in our discussion, and if we can just tweak it enough we can include more people; because we are never going to include everyone that way.  And who among us is the lost sheep that deserves to be lost, while the 99 are safe?  The problem with affirmative action is that it means I might get left out; and that is a legitimate worry.  But if you are among the 99, why worry?  Except how is the basilea tou theou like that?  If the shepherd won't leave the 99 to search for the one lost sheep, what is extraordinary about the shepherd?  And why is any one sheep so expendable?

Especially if that sheep is you?  And what system allows the shepherd to leave the 99 and look for the one, and praise the shepherd for doing so?  Certainly no system designed by human kind.

But that's the point, isn't it?

But How is the Kingdom of Heaven like that?

Or: Pardon Me, But These Deck Chairs Need Re-Arranging.

If I recall correctly, Robert Wright was much praised for his two books, The Moral Animal and Nonzero: The Logic of Human Destiny. (The idea, by the way, that somebody wins, somebody loses, in a "zero sum game" may have found a new vocabulary in game theory, but it is a "logic" as old as the proclamation of the basileia tou theou.) I rather reflexively assumed that anyone who was linking logic and "human destiny" was not really such a deep thinker after all, but just another purveyor of Generally Accepted Opinion ("GAO"), so I never read the books. Looks like I saved myself some time:

The American progressives of a century ago saw that as economic activity moved from a regional to a national level, some parts of governance needed to reside at the national level as well. Hence federal antitrust enforcement and the Pure Food and Drug Act. Analogously, problems that today accompany globalization call for institutionalized international responses.

In the economic realm, progressivism means continuing to support the World Trade Organization as a bulwark against protectionism — but also giving it the authority to address labor issues, as union leaders have long advocated. Environmental issues, too, should be addressed at the W.T.O. and through other bodies of regional and global governance.

Nowhere does this emphasis on international governance contrast more clearly with recent Republican ideology than in arms control. The default neoconservative approach to weapons of mass destruction seems to be that when you suspect a nation has them, you invade it. The Iraq experience suggests that repeated reliance on this policy could grow wearying.

"Wearying"? Invasion on a suspicion that turns out to be completely unfounded is critiqued as "wearying"? Not only that, it's fobbed off as a condition; it's "possibly wearying." This is an insight? Lord help us, none dare call it idiocy.

This isn't realism (obviously Wright's true idol) or even progressive; it's simply blindly idiotic. Wright wobbles about, arguing for national security by helping other countries economically, or by insisting on arms controls (which he equates to government regulation of domestic business), but then he pops up another gem like this:

That domestic security depends increasingly on popular sentiment abroad makes it important for America to be seen as a good global citizen — respecting international laws and norms and sensing the needs of neighbors. One of President Bush’s most effective uses of power was the tsunami relief effort of 2004, which raised regard for Americans in the world’s largest Muslim country, Indonesia. Much of the war on terror isn’t military.

Of course, some of it is, and we’ll need the capacity to project force anywhere, anytime. Still, a full accounting of the costs of intervention makes it clear that we can’t afford to be the world’s army.

Really? And what was your first clue? The fact that cellphones have cameras now? (That's his argument; not mine.) Let's go back to this issue of "projecting force" again, shall we, and let's be "realistic" about it. The invasion of Afghanistan was about "projecting force." The invasion of Iraq was about "projecting force." As I write, Israel is "projecting force" against Hezbollah by attacking Lebanon. Does anyone really believe Lebanon has enough of a government to effectively control Hezbollah? Does anyone believe Hezbollah has enough to lose to worry about "all-out war" with Israel? (And how is that different from what's happening today, by the way?) So "projecting force" against, say, Al Qaeda...just how, again, do we do that, and what results can we expect? Seems to me a "full accounting" has to call into question even the very idea of what is accomplished by "projecting force." Not what should be accomplished; what is accomplished.

Or am I being unrealistic?

But you'll be relieved to know that what's going on now is going on simply because Hezbollah doesn't have enough businessmen; apparently:

Fortunately, globalization has made the peaceful suppression of at least some forms of disorder easier. Economic interdependence makes war among nations less attractive, and never before has this interdependence brought so much transborder contact among businesspeople and politicians.

Paging Tom Friedman; Tom Friedman, pick up the white globalization
cliché phone, please.

But here is the fundamental problem, one that has been around since the first empire rose, one that felled even the Roman Empire, still the most significant basiliea on the planet:

This principle lies at the heart of progressive realism. A correlation of fortunes — being in the same boat with other nations in matters of economics, environment, security — is what makes international governance serve national interest. It is also what makes enlightened self-interest de facto humanitarian. Progressive realists see that America can best flourish if others flourish — if African states cohere, if the world’s Muslims feel they benefit from the world order, if personal and environmental health are nurtured, if economic inequities abroad are muted so that young democracies can be stable and strong. More and more, doing well means doing good.

And people call me naive because I confess a belief in the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.

This is nothing more than utilitarianism for nations. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. So why isn't it working? The Middle East is supplying the lion's share of the world's oil. Why aren't the oil-rich nations at peace? Why is the US still pestering Venezuela? Surely there is a "correlation of fortunes" at work somewhere in this, right? But fortunes don't seem to always correlate with politics, do they? Funny, that. Now, we are supposed to be realistic enough to see that America flourishes when other nations flourish. We don't, of course. When China and India flourish, they ultimately do so at our expense. China sells us junk we don't really need, at prices that put American workers out of work. India and China drive up the price of oil by consuming more of it, and again, American suffer (well, economically). And it is is a simple economic rule: you can only work for someone richer than you are, because people with less money than you have, can't give you enough of their money for you to earn a living. Not unless you manage to geta huge number of them to give you money, but the number of people who earn a living that way is vanishingly small, and that doesn't undermine the rule. You work for a rich individual, or a large enough group of individuals that their aggregate income is enough to keep you solvent; either way, you need someone poorer than you so you can, in turn, employ them. In economics, when everyone is wealthy, everyone is poor.

Which brings us back to the basiliea tou theou, where the first are always last, the last always first. But that's no prescription for a nation-state; that only works for individuals. And it's so radical, it undermines nation-states. Also, it requires no assembly, no technology, not even communication beyond one person speaking directly to another. Besides it's so first-century. Wright wants us to be cutting edge and use the newest buzzwords. No, the basileia tou theou just won't cut it. Perhaps that's also why Jesus never tried to apply it to Rome, but merely offered it as an alternative to Roman power.

This sounds harsh, but it is only acknowledgment of something often left unsaid: a nation’s foreign policy will always favor the interests of its citizens and so fall short of moral perfection. We can at least be thankful that history, by intertwining the fates of peoples, is bringing national interest closer to moral ideals.

No, it sounds like Reinhold Niebuhr with a dash of hopelessly naive Wilsonian optimism for a topping. How 'bout we just scrap the idea of "moral perfection" when it comes to nation states and start from there? In fact, it's called "Christian Realism." But somehow I doubt Mr. Wright's heard of it.

This immersion in the perspective of the other is sometimes called “moral imagination,” and it is hard. Understanding why some people hate America, and why terrorists kill, is challenging not just intellectually but emotionally. Yet it is crucial and has been lacking in President Bush, who saves time by ascribing behavior that threatens America to the hatred of freedom or (and this is a real time saver) to evil. As Morgenthau saw, exploring the root causes of bad behavior, far from being a sentimentalist weakness, informs the deft use of power. Realpolitik is reality-based.

It is actually more properly called "amoral imaginativeness." Morality is about right conduct, not about manipulation. It may be true that morality has no place among nation-states, but let's not try to dress up an amoral policy and call it domesticated. If we are going to move as a tiger, let's move as a tiger. Newt Gingrich at least understands that much; or almost says he does.

In Gingrich's verbal bomb throwing privately, but more subdued criticism publicly, you can see already that this line of argument has no legs. It's being picked up by some as the next phase in the war on terror, but I don't see it. As Gen. Peter J. Schoomaker said:

"The challenge … is becoming more complex, and it's going to continue to be... That's why I'll tell you I think we're closer to the beginning than we are to the end of all this."

And "all this" is a result of precisely the kind of "realpolitik" Wright is trying to defend, even as he explains it's weakness, a weakness he seems to think is largely a product of technology, not policy:

The upshot, in my opinion: Policies that may bring tangible tactical or strategic gains, but plant the seeds of long-term hatred, are a less good idea than they were, say, 30 years ago.

Apparently the words "Vietnam war" mean nothing to him (though he cites the example of Kissinger), and he's never so much as read an essay by George Orwell.

So where are we now? Where we've always been. Jesus told his disciples there would be "war and rumors of war." Tommy Lee Jones memorably declared in Men in Black:

There's always an Arquillian Battle Cruiser, or a Corillian Death Ray, or an intergalactic plague that is about to wipe out all life on this miserable little planet, and the only way these people can get on with their happy lives is that they Do... Not... Know about it!

Except, of course, we do know about it. We always know about it. And by and large, we accept it as the background noise of life, and go on about our business. For Christians, our business is to proclaim the empire; not the empire of America, or of a Western hegemeony against "radical Islam," but the empire of God, the all-encompassing basiliea. The place where everyone is welcome, and everyone can buy food without money and wine without price. The place where it's very illogic is its most logical strength, because the emphasis is not on taking care of me by taking care of you, but simply on taking care of you. Despite what anyone else might want to do to you.

First Sunday of Advent 2021

 Jeremiah 33:14-16

33:14 The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah.

33:15 In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.

33:16 In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: "The LORD is our righteousness."

Psalm 25:1-10

25:1 To you, O LORD, I lift up my soul.

25:2 O my God, in you I trust; do not let me be put to shame; do not let my enemies exult over me.

25:3 Do not let those who wait for you be put to shame; let them be ashamed who are wantonly treacherous.

25:4 Make me to know your ways, O LORD; teach me your paths.

25:5 Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all day long.

25:6 Be mindful of your mercy, O LORD, and of your steadfast love, for they have been from of old.

25:7 Do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions; according to your steadfast love remember me, for your goodness' sake, O LORD!

25:8 Good and upright is the LORD; therefore he instructs sinners in the way.

25:9 He leads the humble in what is right, and teaches the humble his way.

25:10 All the paths of the LORD are steadfast love and faithfulness, for those who keep his covenant and his decrees.

1 Thessalonians 3:9-13

3:9 How can we thank God enough for you in return for all the joy that we feel before our God because of you?

3:10 Night and day we pray most earnestly that we may see you face to face and restore whatever is lacking in your faith.

3:11 Now may our God and Father himself and our Lord Jesus direct our way to you.

3:12 And may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you.

3:13 And may he so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.

Luke 21:25-36

21:25 "There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves.

21:26 People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.

21:27 Then they will see 'the Son of Man coming in a cloud' with power and great glory.

21:28 Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near."

21:29 Then he told them a parable: "Look at the fig tree and all the trees;

21:30 as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near.

21:31 So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.

21:32 Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all things have taken place.

21:33 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

21:34 "Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly,

21:35 like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth.

21:36 Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man."

I’m gonna start with dull, historical stuff. If you want insight and some nugget to take with you, you’ll have to wait for it. Or just slog through the setup first.

These are fairly classic Advent texts. Advent means arrival. The season of Advent is preparation for an arrival, just like Lent is a preparation for death and then resurrection. But Advent prepares us for Santa Claus; or at least the Magi or the Christ child to bring the gifts. Except the church doesn’t prepare for Santa Claus, and Advent is the preparation of the church. Advent prepares the church, again, for the beginning of the end.

Not for the end of the year; not for the final feast and celebration of the year (which, if we were doing it right, would consume all the last six days of the year and the first 6 days of the new year. All time is God’s time and God is good, as is God’s creation, so why don’t we spend 12 days in joy and celebration? Six days to end, six to begin again; is it too much to ask?). The preparation is for the end of all things. Every year the church begins the year remembering it has already ended; that the basileia tou theou is here, now. But we still don’t see it; we still aren’t alert.

Getting there yet? At least, we’re getting closer. The nugget, I mean; we’re getting closer to the nugget.

These texts are presented together, so let’s link them together. First Jeremiah says the “righteous Branch for David” will execute justice and righteousness in the land. I suppose you were expecting peace and prosperity and milk and honey, but you can’t have those without justice and righteousness, so what would that look like?

Lead me in your truth, and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all day long.

Be mindful of your mercy, O LORD, and of your steadfast love, for they have been from of old.

 Do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions; according to your steadfast love remember me, for your goodness' sake, O LORD!

I've been reading the Psalms as part of an on again/off again daily practice, and I'm struck (again) by how personal they are, and yet not "personal" in our modern sense, at all.  The Psalms never speak of "me" without speaking of God, and putting their "me" in that context.  Go back to the beginning of Psalm 25: three verses about the singer's enemies.  And the worst he (she?) wishes on them is: "let them be ashamed who are wantonly treacherous."  Which is pretty much:  let them reap what they have sown, while (the psalm continues) I remain steadfast to the Lord, and plead with God to be merciful to me, despite my sins.

Okay, brief "history" lesson, because those words connect with Jeremiah's prophecy that justice and righteousness will be the salvation of Israel.   Not vengeance, not power, not the restoration of the monarchy:  justice and righteousness, which is all the psalm seeks.  It is what the psalm trusts in, and the psalm also expresses humility: "[God] leads the humble in what is right, and teaches the humble his way. All the paths of the LORD are steadfast love and faithfulness, for those who keep his covenant and his decrees."  Failing to keep those decrees is what lead to the situation Jeremiah promises recovery from.  In our end is our beginning.

So Jeremiah addresses justice and righteousness; and the psalmist praises God for mercy and steadfast love.  And Paul praises his church in Thessalonica, and offers a reminder of the lesson of Jeremiah and the psalmist:  return, again and again, to God.  

3:10 Night and day we pray most earnestly that we may see you face to face and restore whatever is lacking in your faith.

3:11 Now may our God and Father himself and our Lord Jesus direct our way to you.

3:12 And may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you.

3:13 And may he so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.

That we need each other to remain faithful, to hold firm to our trust, to increase our love for one another (how does one love alone, in isolation?), to see God strenghtening our hearts in holiness so we are prepared for the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.  Or, as Jesus puts it:

"Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is already near. So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near."

Jesus, as usual, is much more elliptical than we usually give him credit for. These "things taking place."  Are they signs of the end of time?  Or signs of the present?

Consider:  when you see the trees sprout leaves, you know, what?  That another season is about to make its annual appearance; that the world is actually running in an orderly and predictable manner, human behavior notwithstanding.  How do you know the kingdom of God (basileia tou theou) is near?  The same way you know summer is coming.  Because the seasons are always with us; as is the basileia tou theou.

But:

"Be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life, and that day catch you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come upon all who live on the face of the whole earth. Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man."

And when will you have to do that?  When you will see " 'the son of Man coming in a cloud' "? Jesus (or Luke?) is quoting Daniel 7:13-14:

 I saw in the night visions, and, behold, one like the Son of man came with the clouds of heaven, and came to the Ancient of days, and they brought him near before him. 14 And there was given him dominion, and glory, and a kingdom, that all people, nations, and languages, should serve him: his dominion is an everlasting dominion, which shall not pass away, and his kingdom that which shall not be destroyed. (KJV)

Which brings us back to Jeremiah:

 In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.

Now these kinds of things are often read as predictions of what God is finally going to do (having never intervened so directly in human affairs before; God didn't even stop Israel from abandoning God and letting both Israel and Judah fall, or the children of Abraham go into Exile) at the end of time.  But what about right now?  And why then, and not now?  Daniel is offering an apocalyptic vision to a people in Exile who have no hope left.  John of Patmos did the same thing under the Roman persecution (the destruction of Jerusalem, among other things), in a book we call "Revelation."  But the Greek word John used is "Apocalypse."  And it means not death, destruction and despair, but revealing; revealing at the hand of God, of what the true state of affairs is in this world.  Like the trees which bud in spring and sprout leaves for summer; the apocalypse that God is always present and always in charge.  And this will be a sign unto you.  

Just stay on your guard and don't weigh your heart down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life.  Be alert at all times, because the world needs more lerts (sorry!).  But staying alert?  Avoiding dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life?  Sounds like good advice for right now, or any time.  Besides, the Son of Man may show up at anytime; even in your daily life.

"Lord, when did we see you?"  It won't always be in clouds, with power and great glory.  It's those encounters you really need to be ready for.  The basiliea tou theou is already here.  It's at your elbow.  It's in the person before you, whom you could help.  Are you alert to it?

Aye, there's the rub.  But Paul gets the last word: May God so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you, too, may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ with all his saints. Or whenever you may come across him.

Save the cheerleader

The language I criticized came from this post, which has this argument to make:

Here’s where it gets really dark. Faith can’t bridge the chasm between worldviews in part because those worldviews often see competing moral visions as fundamentally illegitimate. At the same time, we depend on shared values to confer legitimacy on our political leaders. The Founding Fathers were explicit in calling for their politicians to set aside “faction” in favor of the American project. But the singularity of that project was always bullshit, most notably in its equally explicit rejection of a role in the political body for African Americans, a rejection enforced in no small part by depictions of blacks as violent marauders who must be kept in check by the rights of white gun owners. That effort continues, as we have seen.

Now that the fraud has been exposed and there is little, if any, agreement on what the American project is or should be, there is correspondingly less agreement on who ought to lead the nation. That disagreement is in turn based on disagreements about who counts as an American, and whose moral framework should be the norm. You don’t get an ad like the NRA’s, or Charisma magazine conflating anti-government rioting in Venezuela with street crime in Louisville, Kentucky when you’re all one big happy family who can hash out their differences over the dinner table. Whatever happened to Christians not bearing false witness, by the way?

That's a logical outcome if you take faith to mean this:

Faith, then, serves in many ways as the moral demarcator of in-group boundaries, the ideology of the tribes. Don’t kid yourself: we all have a tribe. That doesn’t make faith any less true or meaningful. It’s very meaningful and provides moral guidance for the people who hold it in that particular place and that particular time and that particular community. If you don’t share the faith of the group, most likely you don’t really belong to it. 

What, then, is the solution?  Miserable creatures that we are, who will rescue us from this life?  Or, rather, what?  Wishing in one hand and pissing in the other, apparently:

So, that’s it? We should just go out in the woods and let ourselves be eaten by a bear, as one commenter suggested? Well, no. Here’s why.

We count on our morals—derived from religious faith or otherwise—to supply us with the answers to political questions. But the questions themselves are changing, as is our understanding of religion. We can’t overcome political differences through faith talk because we can’t come to even overlapping consensus because our society is changing, a change reflected in our politics.

Once Americans as a society have come to terms with the changes they are experiencing, the faith talk will regain its potency. It will serve to bridge divides. That will always be a contested process, so it’s not necessarily good news, depending on who gains the upper hand. But it will happen, sooner or later. In the meantime, we live through strange days and evil times, with wars and rumors of war, hoping that some damn fool doesn’t start an actual civil war. 

Pastor Dan painted himself into a corner, and couldn't face the outcome of his convictions.  Then again, if faith is the way we demarcate who is in and who is out, then faith will never be the bridge between disparate groups, no matter how similar they seem.   If you start with that argument, you can't decide at the end that all things shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well in the sweet bye and bye when the roll is called up yonder.  We don't live hunkered down through wars and rumors of wars hoping that somehow it will be alright.  Where's the good news in that?  Maybe we need to go back and reconsider what faith is in the first place.

I was thinking about faith in God and trust in the notion that we are all God's children and we are called as Christians (those of us who are, and are still within the sound of my voice) to help one another.  To be charitable does not require that you believe as I do; the object of my charity need not be like me.  See the parable of the Good Samaritan.

Faith is not a universal solvent.  It does not dissolve all concerns, clear away all problems, remove all obstacles to a goal.  Faith, in fact, has no telos, that idea that all things tend toward an end that Aristotle gave us.  It is a strange perversion of Judaism and Christianity to imagine that we, the faithful, the believers, have the responsibility to save the world.  In Isaiah's vision of the holy mountain to which all nations (i.e., peoples; not nation-states) will come, they are drawn there because of the life being lived there; because the people there have finally learned from the God of Abraham what is good, what is best in life, what it means to live wisely (wisdom is always bound up in the teachings of the prophets with how God would have us all live).  Israel doesn't save the world; Israel teaches the world, by example.  When Jesus sends out the 70, he doesn't tell them to go and save the world:  he tells them to tell anyone who will listen that the basiliea tou theou is at hand.  He doesn't tell them to change people; he even tells them to forget about the people who don't show the members of the 70 any hospitality.  Knock the dust off your feet is a wonderful metaphor for "don't carry anything of them with you," not even a memory.  Don't let them live rent-free in your head, we would say today.

We are the ones who want to carry everyone with us.  We are the ones who think it is our burden to save the world.  We never think who we are saving it from, except from "them."  We should consider that maybe the world needs to be saved from us.

A further consequence of modern optimism is a philosophy of history expressed in the idea of progress. Either by a force immanent in nature itself, or by the gradual extension of rationality, or by the elimination of specific sources of evil, such as priesthoods, tyrannical government and class divisions in society, modern man [sic] expects to move toward some kind of perfect society. The idea of progress is compounded of many elements. It is particularly important to consider one element of which modern culture is itself completely oblivious. The idea of progress is possible only upon the ground of a Christian culture. It is a secularized version of Biblical apocalypse and of the Hebraic sense of a meaningful history, in contrast to the meaningless history of the Greeks. But since the Christian doctrine of the sinfulness of man [sic] is eliminated, a complicating factor in the Christian philosophy is removed and the way is open for simple interpretations of history, which relate historical process as closely as possible to biological process and which fail to do justice either to the unique freedom of man or to the daemonic misuse which he may make of that freedom.

Reinhold Niebuhr, The Nature and Destiny of Man: A Christian Intepretation, Vol. I, Westminster John Knox Press 1996, p. 24.

And when that optimism goes sour, we just double down on it.  Faith will save us, even though it never has before!  But this time, it'll happen!

No; it won't.  That's not what faith is.  In Niebuhr's phrase, that's the daemonic misuse of faith.  We have to be even more careful when we wed the idea of faith as salvation, to politics.  What Arthur Schlesinger said about Niebuhr's thought applies here as well:

Niebuhr was a critic of national innocence, which he regarded as a delusion. After all, whites coming to these shores were reared in the Calvinist doctrine of sinful humanity, and they killed red men, enslaved black men and later on imported yellow men for peon labor - not much of a background for national innocence. "Nations, as individuals, who are completely innocent in their own esteem," Niebuhr wrote, "are insufferable in their human contacts." The self-righteous delusion of innocence encouraged a kind of Manichaeism dividing the world between good (us) and evil (our critics).

We are good, and our goodness will prevail; they are evil, and their evil will ultimately fail.  Sound like the usual political discourse to you?  We marry our religious presumptions to our politics at our peril, primarily because what should be our prevailing religious presumption is the one we set aside first:  humility.

Jesus said the first shall be last and the last first in the basiliea tou theou.    We would rather be first now, because the kingdom of God is coming along much, much later; and we have a world to save in the meantime.  Maybe, instead, we should have faith, and live out our trust that the basiliea tou theou is at hand.  After all, what does the Lord require of us?

Tl;dr

(Yeah, I can’t really blame you.)

 "Congratulations, you poor! God's domain belongs to you!

“Congratulations, you hungry! You will have a feast.

“Congratulations, you who weep now! You will laugh.”

“Damn you rich! You already have your consolation!

“Damn you who are well-fed now! You will know hunger.

“Damn you who laugh now! You will learn to weep and grieve.”

I’ve commented on this idiotic Texas law before, wondering which “version” of the Decalogue should be used (and no, I don’t mean translation, although I still think the KJV is a non-starter. You really want kids contemplating not “coveting” their neighbor’s ass? Hell, I was giggling over that one in Sunday School, 60 years ago.) The version on the grounds of the Texas Capitol is Cecil B.’s choice, being part of his publicity campaign for Heston before Heston was an NRA shill. I’ve seen variations on the theme, and always wondered where they came from. Biblical illiterates, I imagine, who couldn’t locate the original (Exodus, if you’re wondering), or the first restatement (Deuteronomy; it’s literally how the Greek title translates to modern English). Or even know there are two versions. But context be damned, it’s the magical thinking that matters! Somehow a piece of paper with words on it will force children to contemplate their sins and honor their father and mother and not lie or commit adultery or covet their neighbor’s…. 🫏

I’m not disparaging the scriptures, I’m opposing the abuse of them as idols. If you know the scriptures (especially what happened when Moses Heston brought the tablets down from Sinai the first time), you appreciate the irony. Scripture out of context of a body of believers, of worshippers, is as much as wasted as trying to teach RFK, Jr. science, or Trump what actually stopped the wildfires in California. We like to think science or reality are readily comprehended, and yet the same public leaders who think morality is good for thee but not for they, prove even science and reality can be pearls before swine. So I’m not asking for special dispensation to say what Christians and Jews consider the scriptures, should not be treated as magical talismans with mystical powers for good,  which can be absorbed by some sort of osmosis or associative principle simply by being in the proximity of children attending mandatory public education.

Context for what I want to talk about. I really do think the Beatitudes should be posted in public schools if we’re going to post anything from the Holy Bible. I also really don’t think we should require posters with verses from the HB in public schools. Maybe teach it as literature, since it’s as central to Western European culture as Shakespeare and Dante. (I once faced a whole class if college freshmen who’d never heard of the Prodigal, the Good Samaritan, Jonah, or Noah. The words alone should be evocative of cultural touchstones, whether you place any spiritual value in the stories or not. You should know the story of Hamlet or Romeo and Juliet, even if you can’t analyze the power structures critiqued in them. How else undersea reference to “Hamlet’s dilemma” or “Star-crossed lovers”? The collapse of that common thread is a real loss.) So yes, study the Bible as literature. There’s cultural value in that. But leave the theological and Bible school interpretations at home.

Yeah. That’ll happen.

So we move away from public displays of religion (I meant to ask Ken Paxton, who says we need to lift up prayers in our schools, if I could bring in a Tibetan prayer wheel and keep it spinning. Or a prayer rug for Muslim prayers. A rosary, maybe. Or a brazier so I can write my prayers on slips of paper and burn them.  And can I pray without ceasing, even during the lecture? Aloud?) to questions of exegesis (or as we learned to call it in seminary, “extra Jesus”). 

I’ve commented on the Beatitudes before, and I don’t want to repeat myself. Rather than look at the language, I want to look at the structure. It’s symmetrical; two groups of three. Matthew, the only other gospel with beatitudes, has 9; arguably 3x3. Anthropologists and folklorists pay attention to such things. Both Luke and Matthew’s version could be said to follow the rule of threes. But Luke’s, as I say, is symmetrical: 3 blessings, 3 curses. Matthew’s 9 are repetitive. The formula is unvarying: “Blessed are…; “Blessed are…; Blessed are.” And they are repeated phrase forms, as symmetrical as Luke’s, and as repetitive: “Blessed are the…for they…” The 9th one breaks the pattern: “Blessed are you…”, and the blessing goes on for those faithful to Jesus whatever the world says or does for that faithfulness. It tells you a lot about Matthew’s community (the original audience for this gospel), but Luke’s Beatitudes give us insight into his community, too.  He’s not worried about persecutions or poor spirits, he’s worried about material inequality: the chasm between poor and rich. Luke’s gospel is where we find the parable that makes that chasm literal: the story of Lazarus and the rich man.

It’s brief: Lazarus is ptochoi; he lives in poverty at the gate of the rich man. Both die; Lazarus goes to the bosom of Abraham; the rich man to perdition and eternal torment. The rich man begs Abraham for a boon, but Abraham says there is a chasm between them that cannot be crossed. Like the social chasm in life that separated him from Lazarus.

It is quite literally, a story of reversal (not the only way to read it.) But Luke is always concerned with what we call “social justice,” and yet the lasting impact of this parable is the base concept of hell: a place of fire and torment so far removed from heaven, that you cannot cross between them. This is why Milton places Hell at the opposite end of the universe from heaven. The lasting lesson of the parable, the lesson we took above all else from this story, is our everlasting visions of hell. Believe in it or not, we know what it’s supposed to be like. The parable of Lazarus is why.

So Luke’s Beatitudes give us three blessings, three related curses, all on the theme of wealth and poverty. And all involving radical reversals; just like the parable of Lazarus. The blessings provide; the curses take away. But Lazarus doesn’t just wind up in heaven, he changes places with the rich man. And the hungry won’t just be fed; those who eat now, will go hungry. What Jesus is saying is that all the ptochoi will change places with all the rich. It’s kind of interesting, actually, that this is never treated as a prophecy.

Because Jesus says these things will happen. What Luke presents us with is a series of fundamental reversals. We’ve seen this already in Luke’s gospel, starting with Mary’s Magnificat. There, Mary sings of the powerful being cast down from their thrones and the rich sent away empty while the poor take their place. But reversals are a sign of God’s actions throughout the scriptures, starting with God gently chiding Sarah for doubting she could have a child so late in her life (a story echoed in Luke’s Annunciation). Isaiah speaks of streams in the desert. Ezekiel sees the valley of dry bones restored to life, a vivid metaphor for the recovery of Israel from Exile.

In Luke’s telling, the blessings will happen because the reversals are the fruits of the basileia tou theou. Because that will bring justice, and justice means some will gain, and some will lose. It doesn’t really lift all boats. Justice levels the playing field. “Will bring” is a mistake, though. Jesus meant the basileia was here, was now; is here, is now. The blessings will be the result if we see it, if we live it: now. The reversal of justice will happen. It is not a matter of waiting for God’s actions. It’s in our hands.

When God came to Abraham and promised as many descendants as stars in the sky, Abraham showed trust (faith), and God’s promise was fulfilled. Joseph led the children of Abraham into Egypt to escape the famine, and generations later Moses led them out again, and gave them God’s law to follow, do life would be good for everyone. As Isaiah later said, so the nations would be drawn to God’s holy mountain and the blessings Israel enjoyed. But Israel didn’t follow God’s law, and they spent 40 years in the desert. Later, they ignored God’s law again, and God left them to their own devices, which led to the Exile.

The point being that, in Israel’s salvific history, salvation always through their hands. That is the basileia tou theou. It can be, if we will live it. It can be God’s domain, plan, will, goal. If we will do it.

Jesus came proclaiming the basileia tou theou. And it is pronounced again in the “congratulations,” and the “damns.” Announced in the reversal; in the use of threes. A common trope of oral traditions, where three signifies the importance, and the completeness, of the point. And three easiest to remember. Which is easier to memorize: Luke’s pair of three? Or Matthew’s triplet of threes (had you even noticed that before?)? It’s not a contest. Each has its purpose, each its virtues. But they offer very different, and complimentary, teachings. Kind of like the difference between Luke’s “Our Father,” and Matthew’s.

Always some uncertainty, right?

Lighting Advent Candles

Oh, good grief.

I don't like Rick Warren's ideas, okay? Really, really, really don't like them. He says and writes and preaches about almost everything I oppose and have opposed for most of my life. Still, get a grip people.

Atrios reacts to E.J. Dionne's column about Warren and the Obama inauguration this morning with a pithy summation:

Shorter EJ Dionne

We should welcome hateful bigots into the party if they have a large constituency on the off chance they'll renounce their hateful bigotry.

Which, I suppose, makes Melissa Ethridge a self-hating lesbian:

When we met later that night, [Rick Warren] entered the room with open arms and an open heart. We agreed to build bridges to the future.

The difference between Melissa Ethridge and Eugene Robinson or Rachel Maddow, both gay people who have denounced Warren publicly? Etheridge has actually met Rick Warren. And she actually has a good idea for how to handle him. Is Etheridge bamboozled by Warren? No, she says she met him because she truly wants to be a person for peace. It is, dare I say it, almost a Christian idea:

Brothers and sisters the choice is ours now. We have the world's attention. We have the capability to create change, awesome change in this world, but before we change minds we must change hearts. Sure, there are plenty of hateful people who will always hold on to their bigotry like a child to a blanket. But there are also good people out there, Christian and otherwise that are beginning to listen. They don't hate us, they fear change. Maybe in our anger, as we consider marches and boycotts, perhaps we can consider stretching out our hands. Maybe instead of marching on his church, we can show up en mass and volunteer for one of the many organizations affiliated with his church that work for HIV/AIDS causes all around the world.

No, I know Atrios is not a Christian, and I'm not calling on him to convert. But really, is it better to light a candle, or to curse the darkness? Do we advance our cause by demonizing those we don't like with epithets like "bigot," or do we advance our cause by trying to build bridges even with those we consider our enemies?

One step further: the infamous exclusion once posted at the Saddleback Church website indicates that Warren's vision (contrary, IMHO, to the vision of the basiliea tou theou) is exclusive. Obama's vision of the country (hardly that of the basiliea tou theou) is inclusive. Do we really want to follow Warren's model, in excluding Warren from our playground?

It's almost Christmas. It's worth thinking about.