Farrer on form and content of early Christianity

After mentioning 'the common hypothesis' that the transformation of images of the Old Testament that flowered in Christianity originated not with Jesus, but with his disciples, Farrer brilliantly observes,

This elaborate and uneconomical supposition was the product of a prejudice which ought to outworn now. It was supposed that the Christian Faith could be divided into two parts, a vital content of ethical spirituality, and a mythological or theological frame constructed to set it off and give it emphasis. The spirituality, as being the primary fact and real motive cause, was then assigned to Christ; the theology could naturally be left to accumulate round it in the course of the Church's life. We shall not now accept such a distinction as corresponding with historical realities. It is, no doubt, always the pressing concern of religion to seek after and seize its own vital essence and spiritual centre, but that is a poor reason for supposing that spirituality came naked into the world, or could exist without the images which condition it. (14)

I couldn't resist inserting this marvelously worded gem, either:

Symbol endeavours, as it were, to be that of which it speaks, and imitates reality by the multiplicity of its significance. ...There is a current and exceedingly stupid doctrine that symbol evokes emotion, and exact prose states reality. Nothing could be further from the truth: exact prose abstracts from reality, symbol presents it. And for that very reason, symbols have some of the many-sidedness of wild nature. (19-20)

Brilliant.

SBL 2008

Where has the time gone? Now that I have effectively alienated probably all of my readers by not posting in many, many moons, I have returned to say...well, not much.

I'm in Boston, at a youth hostel surprisingly crowded with SBL attendees.

After four years away from SBL (or is it five?), I've come to Boston to meet, greet and buy books. Oh yeah, and to hear papers. ...I guess.

As I arrived in Boston, I couldn't help but notice all of the scholarly types trying to remain incognito on the train and in the airport. I thought of announcing, "The historical-critical method of biblical exegesis is obsolete!" Just to watch the sparks fly. Ok, let's be honest the most I would get is a chuckle followed by many embarrassed looks from scholars who, in an academic setting, would ordinarily be the first to either outline the correctness of my observation or descry the shaky theoretical foundations on which I would make such a methodological presumption.

We are an odd tribe, but here we all are, taking over Back Bay and weirding out the hostel kids.

As I promised, that's all I've got--not much. Maybe this will get the wheels turning over here since my PhD applications are now in. Maybe not. In the meantime, the phoenix has arisen from oblivion to regale you with tales of Biblical geekdom. Um...sorry.

Elshtain on the bonds of civic affection

"Auden writes of 'blind skyscrapers' that 'use Their full height to proclaim/The strength of Collective Man.' I have a contrary thought. Skyscrapers are about power, no doubt. But they are also about freedom, and ingenuity, and beauty. They are not about the strength of an indistinguishable collective, but about the combined power of many men and women. There is something exhilarating about reaching for the stars, so long as we do not become presumptuous about achieving godlikeness. Totalitarian regimes do not aim high. They build squat prisons and block houses. They build execution walls.

"'We must love one another or die,' Auden tells us, finally. We cannot love one another--not in the sense in which Auden meant it--if we are locked indoors and afraid to venture forth. We must 'Show an affirming flame.' It is called hope. It is one of the great theological virtues. But it is also a democratic virtue linked to coming to grips with the reality of what we face and responding appropriately--whether through forceful interdiction or peaceful assembly. We must stop those who would harm us and go about our business, meeting and greeting one another, for 'we must love one another or die.' September 11 showed us that we are bound by civic affection. All else about that terrible day must pale with the passage of time. But that remains."

Jean Bethke Elshtain, Just War Against Terror (New York: Basic, 2003), p. 181.

Elshtain, Billy Graham, 9/11

"Finally, the Reverend Billy Graham, dean of American evangelism, reminded us of the fog of history's unfolding in his remarks at the service in the National Cathedral for the National Day of Prayer and Remembrance on September 14, 2001. Reverend Graham insisted that he did not know the answer to why God allows tragedy, and that there is a mystery at the heart of this question. September 11 did teach some lessons, however--lessons about 'the mystery of iniquity and evil, but, secondly, it's a lesson about our need for each other,' and in this need lies hope. This may be the only true Christian message to have come out of the horror of that day--a message of hope and human solidarity."

Jean Bethke Elshtain, Just War Against Terror (New York: Basic, 2003), p. 123.

1 Peter and "selective accomodation"

"First Peter had to help its readers justify their existence as Christians living as a 'holy community' within society. It was a single strategy with two interlocking components: creating an identity that separated them from Roman culture, and yet showing how they, as a 'community of the elect,' upheld the best of Greek and Roman values by 'living honorably among Gentiles.' First Peter does not urge its readers to reject the larger society wholesale. Instead, it urges a policy of selective accommodation. Those values that contribute to moral ruin it rejects wholeheartedly; those that foster political stability and social order it upholds steadfastly and encourages vigorously."

Carl Holladay, A Critical Introduction to the New Testament, p. 705.

Don't vote for Kant!!!

Passion Play

Last night I had the good fortune to be taken to the theatre by a stunning benefactress. After a quick mimosa, we were drawn into a web of politics, religion, and theatricality in Sarah Ruhl's three-play cycle, entitled simply, Passion Play. Currently in production at the Goodman, Passion Play portrays three communities and their passion plays: the first in 1575 northern England; the second in 1934 Oberammergau, Germany; the third beginning in 1969 South Dakota. All three are set on the backdrop of political upheaval.

All three locations have a tradition of passion plays (the passion play of Spearfish, South Dakota was begun by a displaced German actor in the 1940s), and all three are set in times of conflict. The passion play, for those without knowledge of theatre history, has its origins well into ancient ecclesiastical rites, but became especially popular during the Middle Ages. With plague and upheaval everywhere, the guilded (though not often gilded) productions of passion plays were a popular source of hope and the acclamation of a community's faith in the midst of desperate times. One could almost call the production of a passion play in a community a kind of lay rite, a ritual of theatre that empowered ordinary people to do something holy. It is in this context that we follow the key characters in their portrayals of biblical characters (especially prominent are Mary, Pontius Pilate, and Jesus) and in their more "real" lives.

Although the setting of producing a passion play is a constant, the political backdrop of each is unique. Queen Elizabeth's reform of England was in full-swing in 1575; 1934, naturally, is located in the foothills of Hitler's Nazi regime and WWII; and in 1969, there was no part of America not affected by the Vietnam conflict. Three influential and theatrical leaders rise up and claim the stage at crucial moments in each movement. Queen Elizabeth, whose reform of England was the cause of much spilt Roman Catholic blood, figures prominently throughout the cycle. Hitler naturally appears in one movement and makes a small appearance in another. And Ronald Reagan, who eventually inherited the veterans of Vietnam, charms his way into the final piece of the cycle. All three political heads had a flair for theatricality: Elizabeth with her makeup and royal pomp; Hitler, who utilized acting and theatricality to enhance the effectiveness of his speeches; and Reagan the former and charismatic actor.

The cycle is humorous and haunting, tender and tragic, comedic and carnivalesque. Of course Ruhl investigates questions of faith and doubt, of politics and repression and enlightenment. But perhaps the most important question we are initiated into in her cycle is the question she puts in her notes to the cycle. After describing the aforementioned theatrical leaders, Ruhl asks, "But what is the difference between acting as performance and acting as moral action? It is no accident that we refer to theaters of war." Or consider the words Reagan says at one point (loosely quoted), "I think people are afraid of actors. They're afraid we're good at lying. But really we're just extraordinarily good at telling the truth." Again from her notes: "Never have the medieval world and the digital age seemed so oddly conjoined. I'm interested in how leaders use, mis-use and legislate religion for their own political aims, and how leaders turn themselves into theatrical icons."

Although she could use a staff (historical) theologian, Ruhl's cycle is magnificent. Every once in a while a bit of the dilettante in matters religious comes through (I speak as a trained theologian, what can one expect). Even so, the cycle is brilliant in its examination of the intersection of theatricality (performativity?), politics, and religion. A work of art of the highest caliber.

As an added bonus, however, Emily was wise enough to realize the playwright was sitting next to me through the first two movements (only moving to the empty row one down from us for the third). Upon discovering that it was she, the production stage manager, and director (Mark Wing-Davey), I was naturally very pleased to have handed her her waterbottle at one point, which she had forgotten in her previous seat. But in truth it was such a wonderful opportunity to peripherally be informed by their reactions as well. Upon leaving I made a point to thank the director (the playwright was otherwise engrossed in her laptop) for the beautiful event, which I think caught him a bit off guard since he responded with a bemused, "Well...yes...thank you...you're welcome."

So it is with great pleasure that I recommend to you all Passion Play: A Cycle in Three Parts by Sarah Ruhl.


P.S. Should any of you be in the Chicago area to see it at the Goodman, please be advised that the parts of Village Idiot/Village Idiot/Violet, played by Polly Noonan; Pontius the fish gutter/Footsoldier/P, played by Brian Sgambati; and Queen Elizabeth/Hitler/Reagan, played by T. Ryder Smith, are exceptionally wonderfully played.