I wanted to share this on my blog as I think it smartly integrates good theology with a creative presentation.

In watching the clip I must admit that I felt defensive, as I understand the importance of both history and philosophy in relation to the claims of Christianity, and yet I also understand that the verity of Christianity is beyond the scope of either of these fields of inquiry. In discussing this with Simon, however, I made note Mr. Maher’s choice of audience to confront with his supposedly faith damaging arguments. In short, Bill chose the type of Christian one would likely find at Christian theme park. Yes, this is a bit judgmental of me, but I imagine that behind the scenes Bill and his staff did their demographic homework regarding the kind of audience that would provide the most entertainment to be on the receiving end of Bill’s sharp wit. The Christians Mr. Maher confronts are your basic middle class, wage-working types, who don’t find a Christian theme park a bit kitschy, and who very likely don’t read a lot of scholarly articles and books, but who have a faith that emerges from what historian and biblical scholar N.T. Wright refers to as “an existential kicking of the tires.” In other words, they believe for deeply personal reasons that do not rely upon historical evidence or tight philosophical reasons, but rather rely upon the self-authenticating experience of the Gospel that gives them strength to live in a difficult and challenging world (I am aware that this is a deeply pragmatic understanding of faith, but addressing this is best left for another post).

At this point I was ready to call Bill an intellectual bully, but as I did research on the film, I found that he did speak to some intellectuals, as well as what might be referred to as “high level” types of various religious institutions. So, against what I initially thought, it appears that Mr. Maher was even handed in his demographic selection for those who would be on the receiving end of his sardonic wit.  Having made this concession, however, it is clear that Religulous is not a sincere documentary about the problem of religious belief in modern society. To begin with, the title is a mash-up of the words “religion” and “ridiculous,” which briefly and powerfully expresses Bill’s convictions about the subject and provides a cue to the audience as to what position they should take in relation to the forthcoming content of the film. And then, without even seeing the documentary, I do know enough about the dynamics of visual and verbal rhetoric that through the process of editing and framing I bet those of a religious persuasion are not genuinely given a chance to appear credible.

As I have further reflected upon this clip and the whole intent of the film, it seems to me that the problem Bill attempts to confront regarding religion and rationality is one that is inherent within his basic disposition toward the world. To illustrate what I mean, if Bill had confronted someone who was able to defend himself, or better still, who was able to persuade Bill that religion is a rationally acceptable response to the complexities of modern existence, though the battle may have been won, the war would have been lost. In short, if the reality of God can be supported and defended within the rationalist presuppositions of Bill’s worldview, then God would not be the kind of reality worthy of the worship and awe that monotheistic religions ascribe to him.

In the clip I viewed, Bill brought up the Holocaust to drive home the absurdity of believing that God is all good and all powerful (a typical monotheistic assertion). In response to this, the man Bill accosted (interestingly an actor who portrays Jesus in a dramatic reenactment of the crucifixion) made the assertion that God’s ways are beyond us. As was to be expected, Mr. Maher was visibly unimpressed. All of this reminded me of the first time I read Night, a loosely autobiographical novel  about a young man’s experience of surviving a death camp in Nazi Germany. This book was penned by Eli Wiesel, who about the problem of God’s providence and the Holocaust experience once said something to the effect that he did not want to hear an explanation where those two realities can be reconciled. In saying this I don’t think Wiesel was repudiating God’s existence. He was in fact a professor of Religion at Boston University, who taught courses about literature, religion, and memory. Instead, I think Mr. Weisel was committed to breaking all idolatry regarding our notions of God, and an idol is what one would have if one could rationally account for the Holocaust and God’s existence. Likewise, an idol is what Mr. Maher would have if he ever found an account of religious belief that was acceptable to his intellectual framework, for it would be merely a projection of  what he already worships: his own powerful mind and likely a belief in the all encompassing sufficiency of reason.

I have a decent background in the humanities, and as many of you know, a solid background in historical theology and intellectual history, which certainly gives me a solid edge over my students, but I am feeling a bit out of my element, particularly regarding mastery of the socio-political details. This said, I am learning more about this era of history and these various cultures in preparing to teach, than I would have if I was reading all that I am reading just for myself. Funny how teaching does this.

In wrapping up this post, I will say that this experience, as stressful as it has been, has been very rewarding in bringing greater context to my previous studies in theology and intellectual history. Moreover, I am learning alot about living one day at time, preparing for what is just ahead, and letting tommorow take care of itself.

Part of the reason why I have moved to the slow track, is that I recently have been given the chance to teach a Medieval & Early Modern history course, which is going to require a lot of preparation. My forte is Western intellectual history and historical theology, by comparison I am weak in the cultural and political aspects of Western history. Along with this, I am required to provide some coverage of African and Asian history, which is way out of my field. So, I am feeling a little pressure to get both an overview of these areas, as well as fill in some detail. This means a lot of reading, and since I can’t bend time, and because I am not a fast reader, this further means there is competition for my reading time. Along with this, I am feeling more pressure to do the reading for my history class, as I so desperately don’t want to be a bumbling ass in front of a class full of college students.

So, in short, ego trumps spiritual growth.

Along with this, the losing candidate, John McCain, gave an absolutely stellar concession speech, a speech full of grace and humility, a speech that called Americans to move beyond the tribal politics of division and toward a spirit of unity and peace. Honestly, if this was the McCain on the campaign trail, I would have been drawn to him, but at least this is the McCain that will continue to serve his country as one of our most outstanding senators.

Finally, I saw America become all the more the land of opportunity when I looked at the hundreds of thousands of Americans gathered in Grant park to celebrate the victory of Barak Obama. As I looked at this crowd, particularly at the faces of African Americans, it was not hard to see how profoundly significant this moment was in our nation’s history. This really struck me when I saw tears streaming down the Reverend Jesse Jackson’s face, a man who marched with Martin Luther King in the Civil Rights Movement. And then, I felt deeply moved as I saw Obama on stage, accepting his place in history, and I recalled the words of Dr. Martin Luther King:

Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountaintop. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I’m happy, tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.

Like the tragedy of Moses, it is, of course, sad that MLK did not enter the promised land, but last night, though we did not quite enter that land, it seems pretty clear that the racist walls of Jericho are tumbling down. We are and will likely continue to be an imperfect nation, but we can proudly rejoice that we are closer to embodying our founding ideals that all men are created equal.

For those who don’t know, the incarnation is the event of the eternal Son of God becoming human, truly and fully human. Stated simply, the significance of this event is that God meets us where we are at, and I mean this on multiple levels. God meets us where we live in time and space, and in all the promises and limitations of the cultures we inhabit. On a more personal level, God meets us in the uniqueness or our individual being, which is seen in the ways we are strong and the ways we are weak; it is also seen in our temperaments, habits, and basic outlook. In saying this, it is important to understand the incarnation in the context of the Gospel, which the apostle Paul defines as “the power of God unto salvation.” Regarding the incarnation, this would imply that God meets us where we are at, not to just hang out with us, or to leave us there, but to lift us into a higher level of being, so that we can engage him more fully and enter into deeper communion with him.

All that I have shared here has implications for how I will critically approach the study of history, particularly regarding how I interpret the significance of past events, and the evidence I use to make conclusions. This approach is something I am in the midst of developing, but it is something for which I have some basic ideas that I can begin to share. However, I will save this for a later post. In the mean time, let me just say that the incarnation is typically understood as a mystery, and it is this concept that I would apply in my approach to history.

After the spring semester was over, but before I went on vacation, I spent a lot of time working alone in my office, which for the ordinary, well-adjusted person would mean lots of productive time, but which for me meant lots of time to be reflective, introspective, and generally not productive. (I think I need activity around me to function as a kind of white noise to keep my mind from its innate tendency toward becoming absorbed in the riddles of my soul, my general anxieties about my spiritual well being, and the problems of the human condition.) So, in the midst of one of these reflective excursions I was thinking about what it is that makes certain scholars become respected authorities and known leaders in their field. Particularly, I was thinking about well-known composition scholars Peter Elbow and Andrea Lundsford, and as I thought about their work what struck me is that they are deeply passionate about their subject matter. This is not to say that discipline is not involved in their cultivation of mastery and success, nor that other qualities and forces contributed to their developing reputations. Rather, it is to say that in the midst of it all, passion was certainly a critical ingredient in their success. Once this thought struck me, I also became aware of another related thought, that though I do find composition and rhetoric interesting, and certainly a worthwhile field, I do not see myself becoming a composition scholar. In response to all this, I immediately began to inquire what my passion might be, and just as immediate, it became clear that I am most passionate about theology, culture, history, and spirituality.

As an undergraduate I pursued a degree in intellectual history, which allowed me to get my hands on philosophy, theology and literature with an historical emphasis. The first time I pursued a graduate degree, I pursued a Master’s in theology, which was stimulating, sometimes exhilarating, and sometimes frustrating. After I finished the degree in theology the reality came crashing down on me that unless I wanted to go into ministry I wasn’t going to be able to do much with it. As a consequence I decided to pursue another Master’s degree in literature, which through various circumstances gradually, yet informally, morphed into a composition degree that I have yet to complete. So, here I am with my eyes perhaps a little more open realizing that though there are a lot of professional opportunities for those with a composition background, I cannot really pursue this degree nor go into this field with the kind of passion and integrity I believe should be given to higher education.

I have just turned 40, I have a wife, four kids, a mortgage-sized school loan, and I have the insane hope that somehow I can get into a doctorate program to do what I probably should have been doing all along.