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
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.
[2] Roger Haydon Mitchell, Church, Gospel,
and Empire: How the Politics of Sovereignty Impregnated the West (Eugene,
OR: Wipf & Stock Publishers, 2011), 174.
[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.
[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.
[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.
[25] John D. Caputo, The Insistence of God:
A Theology of Perhaps (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2013), 223.
[27] Hans Urs Von
Balthasar, Theo-Drama: Theological Dramatic Theory, trans. Graham
Harrison, vol. I–V (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1988), III, 25.
[30] Butler, Precarious Life,
XVII–XVIII. This point of otherness is also highlighted for kenarchy in
Mitchell, Church, Gospel, and Empire,
185ff.
[32] “Discourse on
the Otter,” Discourse on the Otter, October 25, 2012,
http://discourseontheotter.tumblr.com/post/34328260870/judith-butler.
