Thursday, July 17, 2014

The Life Kenotic


“The boy who lived, come to die.” – Lord Voldemort.[1]
As the Harry Potter saga concludes Voldemort’s quest for power, dominating and destructive power, is once again over/underwhelmed by love. In the beginning, Lily’s love for her son, through her sacrificial death, offered protection for Harry. Similarly, as Harry comes of age he is faced with the choice his mother confronted – to fight or to die for the ones he loves. It is a choice that reaches its crux in the above statement. It is a haunting quote, a haunting thought; but might this be an image from which a kenotic politic can emerge? If life brings death, can death bring life? Would such a politic bring not only spiritual life, but also real physical life, an ordered life, a life to the full? What might an ordered life look like if wedded to kenosis? Thinking broadly of politics as the ordering of human relationships, and kenosis as emptying and self-giving, I will put forward a depiction of a fluid politic of perpetual kenosis.
            The absurdity of a project of this nature should be immediately apparent. Attempting to “build” a politic on the premise of emptying seems oxymoronic. Yet, if we are committed to starting with Jesus of Nazareth, his life, death, and resurrection, and to the interpretation of his life set out by the apostles, then it is a work of imagination worthy of our efforts. Conceptually, what follows is understood best as analogous to an impressionist painting; not all the brush strokes perfectly align, but I hope it is still successful in communicating a kenotic way of life. What follows is a vision of perpetually emptying that is always draining the current state of affairs/what is. This kenotic action undermines in a cyclical, threefold manner that reveals deep existential meaning in every moment.
            Slingshotting us into the heart of the subject, Roger Haydon Mitchell, in his work Church, Gospel, and Empire, proposes a concept of kenarchy, “a composite of the Greek words kenō to empty and arkhō to rule.”[2] His major theological move is beginning with Jesus of Nazareth: “[i]nstead of putting the emphasis on the concept of God and explicating kenosis as the emptying out of the supposed attributes of divine power, it [kenarchy] puts the accent on the self-giving, loving behaviour of Jesus and, rather, reinvests that into the nature of transcendence.”[3] Jesus, therefore, acts as Mitchell’s a priori assertion from which everything must follow. Kenosis, thus interpreted, “is taken to be the appropriate depiction for the overall tenor of the whole Jesus narrative...The particular advantage of this interpretation of kenosis is that, by being thus placed at the opposite pole to imperial sovereignty, it provides for its effective dismissal.”[4] Moreover, his a priori ensures an eternal consistency within God, stating, “[i]t is this kenotic choice to love that arguing from Jesus to God makes permanent. God, understood in this sense, is the God of the eternal decision to love.”[5] Through this lens, Mitchell re-interprets much of the Christian tradition as a “lapsis” and conflation of transcendence and sovereignty. This provides him with an interpretive opening, wherein “[l]ife-laying-down loving becomes the telos and motif from which all cultural, political, and creational life is ordered.”[6]
            Mitchell goes on to highlight the existential, situational, and political understanding of the incarnation. He states, “[i]n the kenarchic understanding of the incarnation...a complete abandonment into the fullness of the self-emptying, life-laying-down power encountered in the incarnation event is proposed.”[7] Mitchell’s kenarchy drains kenosis all the way; it is not partial, nor limited, and it requires everything. His situating of the incarnation ensures that “everything” includes a robust political challenge. “Set in the context of Jesus’ confrontation with the powers, the incarnation is displayed as an overwhelmingly loving manifestation of power in direct confrontation of the Roman regime. The Jesus event thus names and calls for an ongoingly kenotic manifestation of power in direct contrast with hierarchical authority.”[8] He does not shy away from the ramifications of this thought: “[t]he assertion of kenosis consequent on arguing from Jesus to the divine, confronts the inception of the nation state and its responsibility for the multiplication of sovereignty through law, war, and money.”[9] Thus, Mitchell’s work helps confront the “non-negotiable” aspects of our culture: nation states, capitalism, and liberal democracy.[10]
Mitchell’s kenarchy fails to answer sufficiently why hierarchy is a reality, as arguing from Jesus to God places a non-hierarchal figure as central. However, I think an answer to why hierarchy exists could be formulated based on sin as a distancing construct – an idea to which I will return later. Whatever the case, imagining a politic that places kenosis as central will run into difficulty when drained all the way. Such a politic encounters the problem of deconstructing deconstruction, or emptying emptiness, which ends up with nothing! One might say the disappearing politic is the kenotic politic![11]
A disappearing politic may, at first, make us quite nervous. However, a moment of reflection on imposed Christian politics wedded to hierarchal power may make us equally uneasy. Whether John Calvin’s Geneva, or Georg W. H. Hegel’s actualization of Reason in Prussia, the attempts by Christians to impose an overly realized eschatology through political means have had disastrous results.[12] John Calvin’s involvement in the execution of Michael Servetus, or Hegel’s sentiment regarding the importance of the march of Reason that is evident in his writing may cause us to pause – “[b]ut so mighty a form must trample down many an innocent flower – crush to pieces man an object in its path.”[13] In each of these examples, I would characterize the endeavour as a filling/maintaining/building without the necessary emptying, as they exhibit traits of attempting to enforce an idea by using power over another human. Therefore, no matter how uncomfortable it might be to imagine a politic of emptying, it may be a necessary premise for a future politic.
Here we find ourselves at the ever-tenuous question, how is Christianity/Christ to relate to culture? Specifically, we are currently located between a self-dissolving politic and an unsatisfactory alignment with hierarchical power. H. Richard Niebuhr’s five types, in his work Christ & Culture, demonstrate the plethora of Christian responses to this question throughout history and in the current context. Christ against culture, Christ of culture, Christ above culture, Christ and culture in paradox, and Christ the transformer of culture, all leave something to be desired and none place kenosis as the central element of their schema.[14] Therefore, I propose that the imaginative task of a kenotic politic requires a more fluid type, which will enable it to take on a perpetual emptying. Therefore, I think we need to begin, not with the ontological, nor the metaphysical, but with what is.[15] That which requires emptying already is. As such, I propose that we draw on the Old Testament triplet of prophet, priest, and king, to assist our imagining of a threefold emptying. In such a plan, it is possible to retain a church-state divide while acknowledging that both institutions/ecclesia are highly political. In a triplet, the kenotic action has the potential to undermine perpetually the hierarchical conceptions of power, politics, and attempts at hegemony. Thus, whatever is is precisely what requires emptying.

A contemporary example of kenotic/undermining/subversive/emptying political action occurs in the art and music of Lady Gaga. In order to grasp the nature of Lady Gaga’s art, and its political elements, one must consider the religious (priestly and prophetic) nature of her work. Part of the publicity hype around the release of her single “Judas” from her then upcoming album Born This Way, was a tweet that included the statement “Pop culture is our religion.”[16] Her concerts enact this religion as her “Little Monsters” come and worship with their high priestess, “Mother Monster,” and the message is conveyed through her songs. The song “Judas,” once released, acted as commentary on betrayal, love, and the intimate connection between the two. Lyrics such as “I’ll wash his feet with my hair if he needs, Forgive him when his tongue lies through his brain, Even after three times he betrays me”[17] quite explicitly tie themselves to Christian images and narratives. The rest of the album took on social issues about which political and organized religious action was thought to be too slow, most notably the social inclusion of the LGBT community through the title track “Born this Way.” Thus, Gaga’s music came to function as a prophetic critique of the political and religious malaise through facilitating an unwanted conversation. Thus, by using what is, the social sway of pop-culture, she consciously subverted the dominant political hegemony through the vehicle of a parallel discourse – pop music.
More recently, Gaga has again stirred the kenotic/political melting pot with her single “Do What U Want” from her album ArtPop. The song, and her performance of it at the American Music Awards, may grate against our lingering puritan sensibilities; but it subversively offers insight into politics and sexuality as well as a profoundly Christian duality - physical affirmation and denial. The release of the song was preceded by a series of tweets about the worst things previously said regarding her in the media. They included her weight, similarity to Madonna, sexuality, speculative drug use, and relation to God.[18] Against this context, her lyrics gain a new poignancy.[19]
Write what you want
Say what you want 'bout me
If you wanna know that I'm not sorry
Do what you want
What you want with my body
What you want with my body
You can't have my heart
And you won't use my mind but
Do what you want (with my body)

Her performance of this song at the American Music Awards added a further layer of text to the political subversion (kenosis) occurring in her art. Gaga’s Marilyn Monroe style, the use of a presidential character, and the betrayal of Gaga to retain power, when so explicitly shown unmasks the horror of the current system and thereby empties it of its power.[20] This song, Gaga’s use of media, and her performance at the American Music Awards can all be understood as using what is - music, media, and performance art – to undermine itself, as well as the political and religious understandings and meanings attached to the dominant social structures. This self-conscious self-negation of form, message, medium, and self, drives at the heart of a kenotic politic.
            Let us now return to some biblical images of continual emptying and repetition as ways of conceiving this kenotic politic. In 1 Kings 17:7-16 there is the story of Elijah and the jar of oil that does not run out, and throughout Luke-Act there is the refrain “filled with the Holy Spirit...spoke/exclaimed/prophesied/etc.”; both the image and refrain tie together the filling act of God and the pouring out that involves humans. Furthermore, repetition is also no stranger to the biblical text, whether it is the threefold repetition of judgements in the book of revelation, told from three perspectives, or the fourfold (number of creation) telling of Jesus’ life in the Gospels.[21] These images begin to challenge a linear-structural mindset, displacing it with a more cyclical-fluid understanding. These two understandings of time are held together texts like Galatians 4:4-5 (NRSV), “[b]ut when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children.” This text draws on Jesus’ moment in history, which was one of transition from oriental orientation (eastward and cyclical – ex. Alexander the Great and Buddhism) to an occidental orientation (westward and linear – ex. Paul’s evangelism goal of Spain/end of the world and western civilization). A duality held together in images of continual pouring (linear) and repetitions (cyclical).[22]
However, is my reaffirmation of oriental cyclical thought into a kenotic politic not a resignation to existing in Buddhist samsara (cyclical existence)? No, I think there is a way to retain a subject through an existential understanding of exposure to the Real. This individuation occurs through a kenotic politic that empties itself all the way and risks exposing oneself the Real enabled by the shedding of structure. Slavoj Žižek writes, “[i]n sex as well as in politics, we take refuge in catastrophic scenarios in order to avoid the actual deadlock.”[23] In this statement he nears the truth of a structural politic, for catastrophe deflects our attention. Catastrophe can act as a “building up,” or an attempt to distance us from the Real. For example, 9/11 and the ensuing “war on terror” successfully distanced and abstracted war and trauma, thereby building both psychological (terror) and physical (drones) distance into the subsequent actions. In love catastrophe obfuscates the “until death,” and in politics it hides the “here and now.” As mentioned above, if we consider sin as a blocking of relationship, or a “bunkering down” within ourselves rejecting the love offered to us or the real pain, death, and rawness of life, then it is a barrier to our identification as a self through a blockade against the chance of being radically exposed to the Real. In politics, this blockade occurs in structures, halls of power, systems that destroy individuality turning people into numbers and never risking a real relation, much less risking death. Žižek, working though a discussion of art, explains it this way: “[i]t should thus be clear how the standard notion of artistic beauty [or structural politic] as a utopian false escape from the constraints of reality falls short: one should distinguish between ordinary escapism and this dimension of Otherness, this magic moment when the Absolute appears in all it fragility.”[24] Thus, in the continual kenotic act we near the Absolute, the identifier, which redeems the self from nothingness.
Exploring these same nihilistic depths, John D. Caputo implores, “[l]et us expose ourselves to the terrible trauma of the real, our heads bloodied but unbowed by the degree zero of being-nothing.”[25] In the depths of a complete kenosis there is the resound, “Here we are. We are still here.”[26] Imagery that calls to mind Hans Urs Von Balthasar’s provocative insight into the Christ event, “the wound inflicted on world history by the coming of Christ continues to fester.”[27] It is a messy business following this kenotic path, but somewhere in this perpetual emptying there is meaning. Caputo goes on, “[w]e should live as if we live not. We should live as if we were no longer here, which means to live with an appreciation of the opportune moment that has been granted to us by the cosmos here and now. We should live in such a way that what we buy and accumulate should not prove to be a distraction to life itself, which is here today and gone tomorrow.”[28] It is a sentiment that appears to parallel that of 2 Peter 3:10-13, where the logic does not follow “it is all going to burn so do anything,” rather the incredibly transitory nature of everything is invoked as reason for transformative living. Caputo continues with this seemingly inverse logic, “I propose a kind of joyous and gratuitous nihilism, a celebratory nihilism of grace, where life is lived for nothing other than itself. Life is for free, not because it is without cost but because it is free from any “for,” because it is “for” nothing, for nothing else. It is an excess, a gratuity, a graciousness, a grace. This grace of its “being-for-nothing” had to do with the “event.”[29] As such, a life following a daring kenotic politic is not awaiting an eschatological political structure, but imbuing every moment with kenarchic potential.
            In a kenotic way of life, we are perpetually poured out, undermining what is, and in the act of emptying, we are reminded to break our solipsistic tendencies. Judith Butler has popularized a form of ethical thought around the recognition of the other. She writes, “Emanuel Levinas offers a conception of ethics that rests upon an apprehension for the precariousness of life, one that begins with the precarious life of the Other.”[30] Similar to the existential discussion above, the uncertainty of existence (found through kenotic/deconstructive endeavours) posits meaning through confronting/being exposed to the other; a sentiment captured in her statement, “one is undone, in the face of the other, by the touch, by the scent, by the feel.”[31] This statement is also represented virtually as an Internet meme regarding an otter.[32]  

Drawing on the cultural cache of the Judeo-Christian tradition and its relational derivation of meaning, this piece utilizes the platform of Internet to confront the viewer with his or her own alienation and aloneness. It does so at the precise moment of viewing, as often Internet viewing is an internally numbing and highly individualistic experience. This picture and play on words undermines the glorification of the Internet experience by revealing one’s own internal abyss through a confrontation with the external/natural world, while simultaneously calling for a giving act of emotive love to the beauty depicted. As such, it functions as another example cultural subversion, through a kenotic call or prophetic critique, which occurs in what is (the Internet) while at the same time emptying it of its dominating power.
            Can death bring life? Yes, I think a politic of threefold kenotic self-giving and existential self-negation that unmasks the Real can bring life, real tangible life, and maybe even a “fuller” version than the current expression! However, regarding the dilemma of imparting a kenotic politic to it to another person, I think I can only do so by invitation. Judith Butler poses an apt question this way, “the Spinozists, the Nietzscheans, the utilitarians, and the Freudians all ask, ‘Can I invoke the imperative to preserve the life of the Other even if I cannot invoke this right of self-preservation for myself?’”[33] My response, following kenosis, would be “No, one can only sacrifice.” This is precisely why a kenotic ethic, one of self-emptying, cannot also stand as a structural politic. The imperative to self-empty appears oxymoronic, parasitical of the current is, constantly cyclical, and utterly arcane to those not grasped by the beauty of the vision. Nevertheless, for those grasped, we desire its coming. “So while the opportune moment is still available to us, let us say yes to life, viens, oui, oui.[34]




By Silas Krabbe
Bibliography


Bauckham, Richard. The Theology of the Book of Revelation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.

Butler, Judith. Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence. London ; New York: Verso, 2006.

Caputo, John D. The Insistence of God: A Theology of Perhaps. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2013.

“Discourse on the Otter.” Discourse on the Otter, October 25, 2012. http://discourseontheotter.tumblr.com/post/34328260870/judith-butler.

Gaga, Lady. Judas. Interscope Records, 2011. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wagn8Wrmzuc.

———. “Tweet: Fat,” October 20, 2013. https://twitter.com/ladygaga/status/391991925584056320.

———. “Tweet: Judas,” April 25, 2011. https://twitter.com/ladygaga/status/62745183992815616.

Harmon, Abigail. Conversation, December 2, 2013.

Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. The Philosophy of History. Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, 2004.

Mitchell, Roger Haydon. Church, Gospel, and Empire: How the Politics of Sovereignty Impregnated the West. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock Publishers, 2011.

Niebuhr, H. Richard. Christ and Culture. San Francisco: Harper One, 2001.

Ris, Duncan. Conversation, October 24, 2013.

Von Balthasar, Hans Urs. Theo-Drama: Theological Dramatic Theory. Translated by Graham Harrison. Vol. I–V. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1988.

Yates, David. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, 2011.

Yoder, John Howard. The Politics of Jesus. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1972.

Žižek, Slavoj. The Fragile Absolute: Or, Why Is the Christian Legacy Worth Fighting For? London ; New York: Verso, 2000.



[1] David Yates, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2, 2011.
[2] Roger Haydon Mitchell, Church, Gospel, and Empire: How the Politics of Sovereignty Impregnated the West (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock Publishers, 2011), 174.
[3] Ibid., 172–173.
[4] Ibid., 173.
[5] Ibid., 194.
[6] Ibid., 174.
[7] Ibid., 192.
[8] Ibid., 193.
[9] Ibid., 182.
[10] This challenge to the dominant structures of our society is something upon which Judith Butler indirectly reflects. “If national sovereignty is challenged, that does not mean it must be shored up at all costs, if that results in suspending civil liberties and suppressing political dissent. Rather, the dislocation from First World privilege [referencing September 11th], however temporary, offers a challenge to start to imagine a world in which that violence might be minimized, in which an inevitable interdependency become acknowledged as the basis for global political community.” Thus, Butler is able to see the opportunity that resides within moments of crisis, an opportunity we ought not to miss. Judith Butler, Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence (London ; New York: Verso, 2006), XII–XIII.
[11] This is idea/image of complete emptiness is not foreign to Christian thought. Consider the torn curtain of the Holy of Holies, which revealed the “nothingness” of the deity (not)contained.
[12] Nelson Mandela’s recent death reminds us again of the abuse of power. For it was against an apartheid system propped up by reformed theology that Mandela fought.
[13] Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, The Philosophy of History (Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, 2004), 32.
[14] H. Richard Niebuhr, Christ and Culture (San Francisco: Harper One, 2001).
[15] Works such as John D. Caputo’s Weakness of God: A Theology of the Event and Catherine Keller’s Face of the Deep: A Theology of Becoming argue persuasively for such an approach by against a premise of creation ex nihilo. I acknowledge that such approaches are no doubt contentious as they challenge long-held Christian beliefs.
[16] Lady Gaga, “Tweet: Judas,” April 25, 2011, https://twitter.com/ladygaga/status/62745183992815616.
[17] Lady Gaga, Judas (Interscope Records, 2011), http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wagn8Wrmzuc.
[18] Lady Gaga, “Tweet: Fat,” October 20, 2013, https://twitter.com/ladygaga/status/391991925584056320. Regarding these tweets, Duncan Ris drew a parallel between the self-giving physicality of Jesus that did not retain anything; and in such a giving, was able to affirm the ideas and way of life he had lived, even unto death. Duncan Ris, Conversation, October 24, 2013. This physicality reminds us of the absolute us seriousness with which Jesus said to take up our cross. An action that is tied to the confession of Jesus as Christ, Luke 9:18-27. John H. Yoder notes that it is following this confession that there are signs the disciples may be unwilling to follow Christ’s way of suffering. John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1972), 42.
[19] Reading Lady Gaga’s art in context has become increasingly important, to no small extent because of her collaborative relationship with performance artist Marina Abramović. This of course heightens the awareness of sometime conflicting interpretations, between those that search for Gaga’s intent and those that rely more heavily on reader’s response.
[20] In a conversation with Abigail, she pointed out the striking similarities between the denial of Gaga in the performance and the denial of Jesus by Peter. Abigail Harmon, Conversation, December 2, 2013.
[21] Richard Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 40, 67.
[22] I am also tempted to posit a more speculative/absurdist argument following Hegel. Hegel’s Philosophy of History traces the hegemonic march of Reason’s actualization in history, from the Orient, to Greece, to Rome, to Germany, and then nearing the Absolute in the Prussian state. A march that he “foretold” would continue westward, “America is therefore the land of the future.” Hegel, The Philosophy of History, 86. If I take Hegel’s logic one-step further, pushing past the westward limit, I end up back in the east affirming, to some extent, a cyclical mode of thought.
[23] Slavoj Žižek, The Fragile Absolute: Or, Why Is the Christian Legacy Worth Fighting For? (London ; New York: Verso, 2000), 78.
[24] Ibid., 159.
[25] John D. Caputo, The Insistence of God: A Theology of Perhaps (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2013), 223.
[26] Ibid., 224.
[27] Hans Urs Von Balthasar, Theo-Drama: Theological Dramatic Theory, trans. Graham Harrison, vol. I–V (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1988), III, 25.
[28] Caputo, The Insistence of God, 225.
[29] Ibid., 240.
[30] Butler, Precarious Life, XVII–XVIII. This point of otherness is also highlighted for kenarchy in Mitchell, Church, Gospel, and Empire, 185ff.
[31] Butler, Precarious Life, 24.
[32] “Discourse on the Otter,” Discourse on the Otter, October 25, 2012, http://discourseontheotter.tumblr.com/post/34328260870/judith-butler.
[33] Butler, Precarious Life, 140.
[34] Caputo, The Insistence of God, 225.

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