42.23.34

As we enter Holy Week, we approach the end of Lent. I have not always been a fan of the liturgical calendar, but it is slowly growing on me. I think it has something to do with getting older, years blending, and time (age) being less important. For me this blending comes with a sort of nostalgia for the repetitions of existence. Maybe it was just the circles I am traveling in this year, but Lent took on new potency. In a large part because of the “hit” of Atheism for Lent, as it shed some alternative perspectives on what Lent might look like for individuals.

I am not very good at giving things up for Lent, nor have I found doing so to be a formative experience. Therefore, this year, rather than giving up something, I decided to intentionally reflect. I was not sure what that might look like at the beginning. But as Lent progressed, I found myself thinking a lot about the void, nihilism, and the abyss. This is not an uncommon state of reflection for me, nor was it disconnected from my academic studies. I read Feuerbach’s “The Essence of Christianity” for class, in which he argues all of Christianity is just projection of Man onto the Heavens. This can be troubling for some to view their beliefs as nothing more than projections of themselves, yet for me it was a devotional endeavour. Examining beliefs, finding myself within them, analyzing what might be me, what might be “other” than me, was an interesting process. In this reflective state, there is a lot of time to view one’s own evil, sin, loss, failure (whatever you want to call it). This posture leads back to my own emptiness, the hollow shell of life, the meaninglessness of existence, and often the pervasive experience of the absence of God.

When I stare into the void, I am either wooed in, or propelled outwards. The abyss has the ability to offer a strange sense of solace, in the absence of all there is deep calm. OR, my surroundings propel me back into the sensual reality around me. The necessity of food, life, light, routine all act as forces pulling me back into space and time. It is a dance, to and fro.

These reflections were furthered by Kierkegaard’s book, “The Sickness unto Death.” In which he argues that the self’s relation to itself, by necessity, must be realized through an external third. Thus, everyone is in despair if that third is not God. Yet even if you think you are relating to God, you are probably not, because it might be your own piety, or any number of Idols you think are God, but will in fact be revealed to not be God. (Peter Rollin’s new book “Idolatry of God” explores some ways of thinking about this; considering that God is often an idol of certainty and satisfaction, not in fact God). In this, the void is ever present; it is just beneath the surface of the things that pull away from the void. Beneath the joy of one moment is the emptiness of the next.

The final part of my reflection was writing the paper I posted two weeks ago, “Is Evangelicalism Worth a Bailout.” In which I consider the intersection of Capitalism, atonement theory, the rise of Evangelicalism, and environmentalism. While dwelling upon this topic, I was once again confronted by the horrors of human action, the stark depravity of the systems we have created, the rape of Mother Earth, and the blame we all must own due to our complacency with such systems.

It was a Lent full of lament.

I often find myself thinking in images. As I was considering the world, reflecting upon Lent, and the death of Jesus, I was drawn back to two of my favourite artists. First, Kazimir Malevich, who confronting despair, anxiety, and life reduced things to geometric shapes. (See Black Square, my first interaction with Malevich).

The second artist is Emily Carr, which is probably due to living in Vancouver. One of her paintings is probably my favourite rendition of the crucifixion. The three trees remain after a clear cut. They draw the viewer into the heavens. The painting confronts one with the horror and ecological destruction of clear cutting the magnificent old-growth forests of BC. Simultaneously, however, the viewer is being drawn out of one’s horror and into the light.

I took some time this reading break to work on a project of depicting my Lenten reflections by bringing together these two artists. I painted a crucifixion scene. It is a grey cityscape, which doubles as a Malevich inspired Cross. I think the rest is self-explanatory. I have found it helpful as an Icon leading me into the despair of the cross. In the spirit of Atheism for Lent, I encourage you to use it as an Icon of despair this Holy Week. As we move towards Friday, try to experience it without the knowledge that Sunday is coming. Experience the week as if Friday is the END.

42.23.34: “Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.’”

I would love to know your thoughts, questions, comments, and emotions, regarding this piece or anything I wrote.

A Disconcerting Trend

I sit here with an uncomfortable feeling in my gut. It is a feeling that has been around for a long time now. Sometimes the feeling seems to have teeth that gnaw at me, other times it lays dormant, maybe for a week, maybe a few months; whatever the case it continues to rear its ugly head.

I have been unsure of whether or not to blog this, but here I go (so maybe it is time?).

The disconcerting trend that makes me anxious is a growing idolatry of certainty within churches, and pejorative name calling by those within the church. These two things seem to be on the rise, slowly but surely, they march on to dominate and oppress others who do not fit the mould. I am experiencing and witnessing this trend within Abbotsford, as well as in the greater area of the lower mainland. The trend has been growing recently (or maybe I am simply continuing to become more aware of it).

I have two examples of the pejorative verbatim tossed around in churches, in Bible College, and even in conversations between friends. These two examples point toward an underlying sentiment, which I believe is one factor in the rise of idolizing certainty. The first example comes from far away (better to attack what is at a distance before striking too near the heart). Three years ago in Israel, while learning about the physical and geographical settings of the Bible, I was confronted by “maximalist” and “minimalist”. These terms regarded the “group” a certain scholar or idea fit. For example, are these group of rocks store houses or stables? One position was maximalist, one was minimalist. The “maximalists” held to a certain position, usually that which “agreed” with the Bible, and the “minimalist” position would conclude differently. Both positions looked at the same evidence, and considered the Bible, and came to different conclusions (it is my opinion that both groups we guilty of cooking the evidence at times). The problem that arises, the thing that rubs me the wrong way, is that once the groupings were established the way the terms were used became harmful. This occurred in Israel, by the end of the trip if you thought a “minimalist” position might be right there was a stigma sent in your direction. You obviously had weak faith, you did not believe the Bible (or at least you do not take it seriously), you may not be saved, you were sub par, and you might even be a “liberal”! The classification of “minimalist” became a pejorative.

The second example is quickly growing in the vernacular of the circles I skirt. It is defence of one’s ideas by entrenching one’s self based on having a “high view of scripture”. This subsequently implies, or has even be explicitly stated, that the one with whom he or she disagrees has a “low view of scripture”. It has been my experience, and some of those around me, that this is incredibly hurtful, often said without proper thought or care for the other, and can be invested with a derogatory tone.

Here are some thoughts/responses to this pejorative usage: A) simply because you land in one place and someone else disagrees does not mean he or she has a “low view of scripture”, there have been disagreements for as long as religion has existed (so get off your “high” horse). B) One’s worldview often dictates one’s conclusions more than external evidence. Scripture might not even be the actual argument or disagreement; rather there may be a clash of worldview. So, if one dogmatically claims the “high view of scripture” without plenty of self-critique and humility, he or she exudes arrogance, pride, self-righteousness, and ignorance. C) Just because the historical/grammatical method of exegesis and interpretation lead to one answer it does not mean it is the “correct” answer or interpretation. It was not simply arrived at because of one’s “high view of scripture”. There are a plethora of interpretive methods, and a vast array of interpretations within each method, so honestly consider some alternative possibilities. D) Someone might hold such a “high view of scripture” that they have spent their entire life studying, reading, investing resources, listening to others, caring for others, and re-thinking faith. This person may eventually come to a new or different conclusion because of their “high view of scripture”, so to then label this new view as having it base in a “low view of scripture” is to slander the other.

Whew, it feels nice to get that off my internet chest. Which leads us to the new atheists (fundamentalists), atheists, as those who rely on the idolatry of certainty. Positions arrived at by the underlying disposition that manifests itself in pejorative language.

Rolling beneath these trends of pejorative vernacular is a more disconcerting movement. It is a movement of correctness. Not political correctness or the certainty that 2+2=4 within the agreed upon public consciousness (“where as 2+2=5”, as my dad would say, “in very high values of 2”). No, “correctness” in the manner of “I am right” (implying all others to be wrong). This “correctness” lies in the outflow of certainty. The need for certainty, or rather the religious crutch of certainty, which will lead to a behaviour of “correctness”. This may manifest itself is such statements as “I know what I know”, or “ask questions, find answers”, or “don’t read that! He or she is a heretic”, or “maybe it is more…but it is certainly not less”. It is in such statements that idols are erected. Idols that stand in the place of something or more often then not someone. The idol of certainty limits our ability to interact with each other as well as God. For if we are certain of God or another, we implicitly demote him or her or God from the position of a free agent or person to the realm of object, where actions are known and can be calculated. Such object interactions are bound to fail, people continue to surprise, and God continues to defy boxes.

Certainty, and the idolization of it, manifests itself in both Atheism and Fundamentalism (given there are exceptions, I know some great doubting Atheists, as well as a few questioning fundamentalists). Certainty had it heyday with modernism. “I think therefore I am”, “only that which can be proven through the scientific method can be known”, “the Bible says…”, etc. This time gave rise to atheism as it is commonly understood as well as religious fundamentalism. These two groups are not very far apart in their mode of thought, rather they reflect each other, not as estranged cousins but more like . Both appear to lack an epistemological humility, and a disposition towards the knower’s fallibility.

I’ll leave it at that, knowing I am probably wrong ;)