Some Musings of a Gentle Cynic

An Ancient-Future View of Vocation

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 17:07:00 +0000

Reared in an industrial culture embedded with a Protestant work ethic, it was understood and conveyed almost explicitly that industrial-ness was considered a religious ideal; effectivenes and success were taken as clear signs of God’s favor; poverty was a universal sign of sin; and the crowning sign of God’s favor was wealth. So in my thirties when I needed to make a change in careers, I took time to clarify what kind of work and place would best suite my interests, skills, and passion while utilizing a modern approach to vocational counseling. It became an opportunity to focus on strengths or “success factors” and to gain some crucial direction for my life. However it was a process that emerged out of anxiety (societal, economic, and emotional); for it was rooted in the script I was given as a youth, which was not (as I see it today) sufficient to get at the full scope of what it means to listen for and respond to one’s true vocation.

Consequently, I made a couple of employment connections based on a thoughtful discovery of a relationship between my aptitudes, abilities, interests, resources, limitations, and other qualities and a knowledge of the requirements and conditions of success, advantages and disadvantages, compensations, opportunities, and prospects in different lines of work. Although I found these employment opportunities interesting at first, I began to identify with the experience described by Earnest Becker in Denial of Death, who wrote that all human creativity—all art, philosophy, architecture and work—have their roots in our futile attempt to cover our nakedness, our human reaction to the awesome truth that we are naked and afraid. Even though I identified gainful work for which I could articulate some meaning, there was still something nagging or calling me to go deeper.

Applying gentle cynicism, I began to discover more fully the ancient idea of vocation, which comes from the Latin vocare, meaning “to call”. This implies a relationship with one or something that does the “calling.” It became apparent to me that vocation or calling from the tradition of the church had an overly exclusive territory about it. Even today, “calling” is often thought of solely within the religious realm. Historically, the sacrament of vocation hid or withdrew into cloistered spaces and developed into a type of elitism. Yet I learned that the ancient practice of religious leaders cloistering can to be helpful; for even today as in the past, we have need to move from orientation through disorder or disorientation to some kind of reorientation; i.e. identifying space to listen for a “call” or “path” to walk in. I did just that!

‘And you will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the path. Walk in it.”’ Isaiah 31.21

William Blake in The Marriage of Heaven and Hell alludes to the ancient concept in “The Threefold Ascent” of theoretikos. Here one seeks guidance to resolve issues in the inner life, which provide holy imagination that breaks the barriers of limitation in the world around us. It is from this kind of “listening” that we discover or detect vocation. Blake mused, “Then I asked: Does a firm persuasion that a thing is so, make it so? He replied: All poets believe that it does, and in ages of imagination this firm persuasion removed mountains, but many are not capable of a firm persuasion of anything.”

Listening is thus a cultivated life of attentiveness that opens the human senses (physical and spiritual) for discovering who we really are and what we are really to be about in the real world that surrounds us. The modern approach to career discernment is inadequate by itself at detecting and fully persuading one toward a robust call. What is missing is the intentionality of “listening” or a level of contemplation that unites what the modern approach values with what is hidden and waiting to be revealed.

This tension is both ancient and yet easily missed through the process of nurture and formation and socialization in our modern (American) society, for the dominant script and its variations can be summarized as “technological, therapeutic, consumer militarism”. In a word, action trumps contemplation. For it is through the practice of contemplation that one is able to penetrate through the prominent and delimiting illusions and to disengage from the dominant script(s) that are rooted in anxiety. Hence, the challenge is to live within the living paradox of action and contemplation. From the quiet voice of Parker Palmer, "[A]ction refers to any way we co-create reality with others . . . contemplation refers to the necessary ways we unveil the illusions that masquerade as reality while revealing the reality behind the masks. (Parker Palmer, The Active Life: A Spirituality of Work, Creativity, and Caring, Harper Collins, 1990)

Palmer defines vocation as “something I can’t not do, for reason I’m unable to explain to anyone and don’t fully understand myself, but that are nonetheless compelling” (persuaded). What one is truly good at or compelled to do, which one cannot escape, is connected at some level to mystery and must meet up with what the world really needs. Action thus cannot exist without contemplation, for action alone leads to a frenzy—“a frantic and even violent effort to impose one’s will on the world, or simply being reduced to surviving against the odds; while contemplation alone becomes escapism—a departure from the real world into a realm of false bliss.”

Western society at large values action over contemplation. Rather than taking sides, Robert Frost (in “Two Tramps in Mud Time”) mused over the human experience and sought to “unite” what is so fragmented into a whole or integration leading to a ceaseless drive to becoming more fully alive or fully human, what Thomas Merton called “the hidden wholeness”.

But yield who will to their separation,

My object in living is to unite

My avocation and my vocation

As my two eyes make one in sight.

Only where love and need are one,

And the work is play for mortal stakes,

Is the deed ever really done

For Heaven and the future's sakes.

Drawing further from the ancients, Palmer identifies three living characteristics at work in a life actively pursuing a call: work, creativity, and caring. All three require action, and what is lacking and hidden can only be fully met through the combined practice of contemplation. 1.) Work is action driven by the call of external necessity or demand. We work because we need to make a living, because we need to solve a problem, because we need to surmount and to survive. Contemplation serves to move us beyond mere "rugged individualism" in order to see the need in one's community or world. 2.) Creativity is driven more by inner choice or call from within than by the outer demands. In creative action, our desire is to give birth to something new. 3.) Caring is also action freely chosen that aims at nurturing, protecting, guiding, healing, or empowering something that already has life. However, without contemplation we may never fully hear the call to care, the voice that tells us what and who to care about, the call of God who hears the cries of the oppressed, nor the path to healing for which the therapeutic realm more that often can only diagnose.

My own experience with discerning “call” while combining action and contemplation was most recently played out while completing a final year of seminary. Like many who enter seminary, I saw myself leaving only to enter some kind of work or mission that would be connected directly to the church. Instead, through intentional listening that included clearing the modern, "protestant work ethic" wax out of my ears, I began to work out the reality of “being sent.” While at the threshold of an awareness of a world filled with harsh realities and complexities, through much constructive critique, formative influences and struggle (i.e., contemplation), I received what has become a present sense of vocation and mission—one sent to minister in some purposeful way (action).

Image: Andrew Wyeth, "Squall" 1986

A Reflection on This September 11th: A Call for Casuistry and a Counter Script

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Sat, 12 Sep 2009 02:18:00 +0000

What is it with guns and the so called “Christian right”? And how is carrying guns in spaces called church “good news”?

As I recently listened to various news stories of gun brandishing religious Americans, it seemed clear to me they are somehow self-deceived through the use of argumentum ad verecundiam. When asked about the practice of celebrating the Second Amendment (which for them includes bringing one’s weapon to church), the interviewed sources referenced the “forefathers of our nation”. There was no mention of the forefathers of the church or the alternative society that emerged in the midst of other nations or an empire, e.g., the Roman Empire. There was no remembrance of the sins of many of our American forefathers who, e.g., generally accepted pro-slavery ideology and practices while applying some kind of interpretive reasoning, which included biblical texts. Moreover, for these 21st century religious cowboys, the Second Amendment of the U.S. Constitution seems to be their primary text, while many of the stories and exhortations of the Biblical text that suggest non-violent practices are far from their minds.

It is this gentle cynic’s observation that this kind of self-deception is correlative to an identity being nurtured, formed, and socialized by the American dominant script, which is one of certitude, privilege, and entitlement. One of the crucial flaws of this religious thinking and practice is the story or script they knowingly or unknowingly embrace about who and what they are. Many of these kinds of church folk have little stomach for doubt and little aptitude or imagination for working with an alternative, counter script; i.e., the Christian narrative in its fullness. Thus having lost their way, they cannot navigate and negotiate their lives through what Walter Brueggemann describes as the “the ragged, disjunctive character of this counter-script.”

“That script is not monolithic, one dimensional or seamless. It is ragged and disjunctive and incoherent. Partly it is ragged and disjunctive and incoherent because it has been crafted over time by many committees. But it is also ragged and disjunctive and incoherent because the key character [God] is illusive and irascible in freedom and in sovereignty and in hiddenness.”

These self-deceived quasi churches across the American landscape such as New Bethel Church in Louisville are a mix of an intellectually and spiritually undernourished group of people who call themselves “Christian” while also trying to erect some kind of American ruggedness club. If they are to become more fully human as measured against “authentic, undiminished humanity,” embodied in Jesus, they will need to revive in their collective settings the rich Christian tradition and practice of casuistry with an aim to better understand their connectiveness in this fragmented world of competing narratives. In this case, it is proverbial mixing of oil and water, viz., American nationalism dubbed over and against the Christian narrative.

On another level, this self-deception is what Thomas Merton called Promethean Theology (The New Man): a human obsession with what is "mine" and "thine", i.e., between what is “mine” and what belongs to God. Like the prodigal son, there is separation from what is “his” and the rest of God’s possessions. Seeking a “soul full of my rights”, the gun-brandishing “Christian” has forgotten (from a lack of contemplation) the reality that we are to ‘Never take your own vengeance . . . for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay”, says the Lord.’ Our action is clear, “But if your enemy is hungry, feed him; and if he is thirsty, give him a drink . . . do not be overcome with evil, but overcome evil with good.” (The Letter of Paul to the Romans 12, which is key and context to understanding the often mis-interpreted Chapter 13)

Instead of seeking to defend themselves and our “individual rights”, may they and may we all engage in the work of contemplation, nurture, formation, and socialization by the practices of preaching, liturgy, casuistry, social action, spirituality, and neighboring of all kinds, such as hospitality and non-violent responses.

U.S. Delusions of Grandeur

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 00:43:00 +0000

Wendy Murray's "U.S. delusions: An army man changes his mind" In Christian Century (Aug. 2009) provides a critical update to the failing American script.

'Andrew Bacevich, professor of international relations at Boston University, uses strong words to describe what is going on in the U.S. He speaks of a "crisis of profligacy," "collective recklessness" and a "dysfunctional country." He says our political system empowers an "imperial presidency" and possesses "delusions of grandeur." This is surprising commentary coming from a onetime military man who was a soldier's soldier.' Read entire article.

Bacevich in an Aug. 15, 2008 interview with Bill Moyers also stated, "U.S. troops in battle dress and body armor, whom Americans profess to admire and support, pay the price for the nation's refusal to confront our domestic dysfunction."

Another source and must read: Chris Hedges, War Is a Force That Gives Us Meaning (New York : PublicAffairs, ©2002).

Deconstructing Rigid and Closed Human Systems with Xavier Le Pichon

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Sat, 18 Jul 2009 16:29:00 +0000

“Throughout the ages we have to rediscover that our community is not only made of the highly motivated competing individuals as in my own scientific world, but that it includes fragile, vulnerable, suffering individuals who reveal to ourselves our own fragility, our own vulnerability, who actually lay bare our own sufferings that have been hidden in our deepest self. This fundamental discovery is at the heart of our humanity . . . As I knew from my own scientific experience, the weaknesses, the imperfections, the faults facilitate the evolution of a system. A system, which is too perfect, is also too rigid because it does not need to evolve. This is true in politics; it is true within a society, within families, within nature. A perfectly, smoothly running system, without any default is a close system that can only evolve through a major commotion: the evolution occurs through revolutions.” - Ecce Homo, Xavier Le Pichon

Having a vocation and the privilege to listen to and support various weak and vulnerable individuals and families in my community, and to take upon myself some of that pain while naturally recognizing in these experiences my own pain; I, a gentle cynic, have come to see more profoundly how the weak, the marginalized and the vulnerable (so called “imperfect parts”) need to be welcomed or integrated into our systems and structures. That is, a less uniform and rigid society where the weak and vulnerable are welcomed, supported and integrated into our communities allows for an ongoing evolution that facilitates a greater level of adaptability and holistic prosperity.

"[A] society that separates the produces from the others considered as dead weight, even as marginal and excluded individuals, is a hard society, characterized by conflicts and often by complete rejection of minorities. It is sad and pessimistic. On the contrary, a society where we all are well intergrated has a much more adaptable structure, with a different, easier and more conciliatory mode of life. It is often happier and more optimistic." - Xavier Le Pichon

During what Crisis Consultant Randall Bell has called "the largest natural disaster in the history of the United States", Hurrican Katirna, there naturally emerged the lamenting voice that asked, “Where was God?” Yet after the initial grief, the humanitarian response in the form of the often too trusted governmental system became stressed and faulted while it sought to aid the thousands of homeless and displaced of whom many were the poor and historically marginalized people of this region. As a result, many of the thousands of weak and vulnerable people facilitated an evolutionary moment in the “system”. The prior system (government response) which was too closed to evolve by itself thus experienced a major commotion and an evolution began to occur through a revolution. The weak and vulnerable spoke out, and society—churches, families, various groups and organizations—responded with an ongoing compassionate response.

My own ongoing practice of gentle cynicism acknowledges the reality that even the system I work within (human services) has its inherent rigidity and closed mechanisms. Yet having begun to penetrate that reality complicated by ongoing debates, economics and figures who operate largely out of various dualism (left vs. right, criminal vs. non-criminal, produces vs. dead weight) seeking an unrealistic “perfect” solution, I from an epiphany of the vulnerability of the other embrace an ethic of the relationship of responsibility to the other. I am learning that to become more fully human means welcoming the suffering, the weak and vulnerable while knowing all to well, that I too am vulnerable and weak.

Ivan Illich and a Call for a New Story

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Sun, 24 May 2009 19:20:00 +0000

“Neither revolution nor reformation can ultimately change a society, rather you must tell a new powerful tale, one so persuasive that it sweeps away the old myths and becomes the preferred story . . . one so inclusive that it gathers all the bits of our past and our present into a coherent whole, one that even shines some light into the future so that we can take the next step . . . If you want to change a society, then you have to tell an alternative story.” Ivan Illich (Austrian former priest, philosopher, social critic, 1926-2002)

This gentle cynic wants to be less ambiguous and ambivalent about and be intellectually honest about the social reality of competing and incomplete stories—the often conventional, usually unquestioned variations of a dominate script—which serve only to distract from a story that is purely and rightly a “new” and “good” story, one worthy of our allegiance.

We could say that the dominant scripting in our American society is one of “technological, therapeutic, consumer militarism” which socializes all on both extremes, liberal and conservative. It is a script that for most part is about “certitude, privilege, and entitlement” and has always and will always—as long as it is the dominant script—promise safety, prosperity, and happiness. However it is not hard to conclude that we are one of the most discontent (unhappiest) societies in the world. Thus, the dominant script has failed and it cannot make us safe or happy.

Remember the response after September 11, 2001, when the dominant script exhibited itself? People, prompted by our governmental leadership, knew nothing better to do than to go shopping. Then there came the abuse and opportunism by banks and mortgage services on the backs of the consumer. And yet, most revealing, our society has become the most determinative killers without even thinking about it. If we are to pause, listen, and contemplate before acting (something we should have done as a whole society after September 11, 2001), we would do well to consider the call of Ivan Illich for an alternative, “new” story, which may in its emergence seem like a extraordinary act of disengagement from and relinquishment of that dominant script by way of a counterspeech, seizing the conventional and habitually unquestioned script that has been leading us to unhealthy choices, unhappiness, and abuse by the powerful over the naïve and the weak. Such a story and such an act will gradually restore us on a path to health and wholeness.

Dialogue with William Lobdell's Story

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 02:15:00 +0000

Below is my brief response to an interview with William Lobdell with Tom Ashbrook (NPR, On Point)

Having heard William Lobdell’s story from various news venues over the past year, I am struck by his genuineness, openness and sense of “peace” with doubt. His journey is quite interesting and prompts me to reflect upon the ancient Jewish spiritual roots, which can be accessed in the wisdom literature of the Old Testament. Unfortunately, various kinds of “Christians” dismiss what I have come to recognize as normative in this literature and further conveyed in the radical life and teaching of Jesus.

Severely lacking in practice and the spiritual vocabulary of many American Christian churches is this normative and valuable experience of doubt. There are clearly large questions that revolve around an active formation of faith, and they can present themselves in complex periods of disorientation, dislocation, and a deep sense of abandonment. Active doubt, such as portrayed in the life of the Qohelet in Ecclesiastes, many Psalms, Job, and the life of Jesus remind us that life can naturally move from periods of orientation into profound and long-standing periods of disorientation. While many American Christians write off experiences of doubt as “lacking faith”, my own journey has allowed me to see doubt as a path to the formation of faith and coming to terms with the hidden-ness, illusiveness, and darkness surrounding concepts of God, the large questions and perplexing experiences of suffering and evil in the world. (I am grateful for the works of Paul Ricoeur and Walter Brueggemann on this topic.)

The ancient Jewish tradition offers some almost lost practices which can be quite redeeming at best or at least able to help move individuals and communities into some sense of being re-oriented. For example, there is the practice of lament and complaint in the literature mentioned above. In my many years of religious experiences (predominately Christian), it has only been recently that I have met a religious community comfortable with practicing lament and complaint within their corporate lives. I am learning that while doubt is normative in human experience, practices such as lament and doubt can assist us in moving into some surprising places: places where we are more comfortable, imaginative, and at peace with the unknown and life as it is.

On

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Sun, 05 Apr 2009 15:14:00 +0000

As spring emerges after what has been a challenging winter, this Gentle Cynic continues to find resources, support and movement away from the cultural sway of Western individualization and the neo-humanist view of personality to one of community and harmony with the "other". As he gains greater insight, becomes more comfortable with ambiguity, and cultivates self-differentiation (with reference to his functioning in family, group, and community), he senses more connectedness along with a feeling of being "on", and not so as his past when hyper-vigilent doubt led to a feeling of being "off".

On I go

as past winds

blow me

from the road.

With swells

and flying debris,

I push

through the snow.

I trudge along

often alone;

at times

I join another.

Like geese

we are lifted

up and

forward

On a path

that has no

precise

markings,

Only a

placid

place of

challenge.

Image: Andrew Wythe, The Snow Hill, 1989

Sent

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 03:09:00 +0000

(Re-posted for editing purposes, from April 2008)

This gentle cynic recently found himself working out the idea of “being sent” as he entered the threshold of completing his MDIV at Eastern Mennonite Seminary and entering the complex world as one sent to minister in some purposeful way. The thoughts below have become a way to express his own sense of movement and to declare before his seminary community during their Baccalaureate his own present sense of mission—something that has come through much constructive critique, formative influences and struggle.

Some influential images in this particular episode of discerning what it means to be sent, have emerged from the artistic work of Andrew Wyeth. What is shared below is this gentle cynic’s way of sharing a recent glimpse into his own musing and grappling with the discernment of movement and mission; i.e., being sent (Baccalaureate theme included the reading of the Scriptural text of John 20:21-22).

Andrew Wyeth reminds me a little of myself, while his complex work reveals themes which have been a part of my seminary journey. Wyeth is one who began his work constructing an image of himself as “a contented loner, a modern-day Henry Thoreau, who sought inspiration from rural and coastal landscapes; only to see his work transformed as it progressed into interconnected themes of life and death, and time and eternity.

His ‘”pure” unpeopled landscapes’ took on profound human presence where he portrayed the physical lives and intense feelings of people, such as his work surrounding the Olson family and their dilapidated home which includes his famous Christina’s World, a scene which appears to be a young, thin women reclining in a field while looking up at her home just above the hill; when actually it portrays an aging women who had a disability that left her unable to walk; proudly refusing a wheelchair, she resorted to dragging her body around when her legs became permanently disabled.

Wyeth’s numerous works try to speak into harsh realities and embrace the complexities of life—the humorous, beautiful, painful, simple and tragic—while reflecting on the mystery and seasons of life, much of which have become a part of my rhythm of reflection as I am sent into a world filled with harsh realities and complexities.

Connected with this kind of awareness, I am summoned to believe, imagine, and serve knowing the transcending and far-reaching peace which Jesus Christ has promised and fulfills—the Shalom of God*, which when faithfully held before us yields perceptive imaginations, interpretive vision, unique solutions, and leaps of faith that are in tune with God’s creative and redemptive ways.

One of Wyeth’s lesser known works, Schooner Aground, depicts a scene that speaks into my experience of renewal in relation to the church and world. In the foreground are a host of people spread out presumably from the local coastal community along with some militia, all of which are watching a steam-powered tugboat (smoke billowing out of its stack) trying to pull out a grounded three masted schooner from the rocky shoreline. What stands out for me is a small boat (possibly a row boat) out at sea having a vague figure who seems to have his back turned against the struggling tug and is facing elsewhere—the smallest of the three vessels and yet the only one that is moving somewhere with purpose while not being preoccupied nor sidetracked by the surrounding activity. It is a vessel free to move unencumbered by the wider activities and the community of spectators. It is a vessel that yearns for the open waters; it’s on a mission. my experience of renewal in relation to the church and world. In the foreground are a host of people spread out presumably from the local coastal community along with some militia, all of which are watching a steam-powered tugboat (smoke billowing ).

With increasing concentration and influence over the last several months, I have considered what ministry might look like for me and have found myself content to pursue “bi-vocational” ministry; i.e., faithfully participating in the church as an alternative society—whatever that may look like—while faithfully serving the world directly through a vocation which allows me to invest in others with gifts I possess and have cultivated. Thus, both church and a specific vocation should make use of my gifts at places of margin and boundaries where I and others might move in and out of providing connections for ministry, resources, rest, and partnerships, where transformations are wanting to happen, and where a claim of God’s rule—God’s shalom—against the momentum of injustice and “the powers” is needed.

Sources:
* Ben Wenn and Adam D. Weinberg, Unknown Terrain: The Landscapes of Andrew Wythe (New York: Whitney Museum of Art, 1998), 12.

Anne Claussen Knutson, “Andrew Wyeth’s Language of Things” in Memory and Magic (New York: Rizzoli, 2005), 70.

Images of Andrew Wyeth’s works: Image 1, Baleen, 1982; Image 2, Christina’s World, 1948; Image 3 Schooner Aground

* Shalom of God speaks of a promised and emerging profound salvation of every aspect of God's creation, which, of course, includes humanity. There is in this meaning a deep sense of welfare, peace, soundness, and deliverance that transcends any institutional or nationalistic notion.

A Postmodern Advent Reflection

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Sat, 13 Dec 2008 02:37:00 +0000

In the Beginning:

The Creation of Mother and Child

On the first day of creation

the dark waters of the deep

that surround you

gave way to a brightness so commanding

you unfolded like petals

responding to the sun’s heat

while the spirit that lurked within me

departed

leaving a strange red trace.

On the first day we learned

separation and difference

and someone said it was good.

On the second day you learned

hunger and disappointment

because milk and honey did not yet flow

and you returned to an inward curl

to cry or hide

while I appealed to angels on high,

whispered in your ear mysteries of Bethlehem,

sang Joy to the World (for it was the season).

And so we passed day and night

Wondering that this could be good.

On the third day we learned

that a certain let-down is part of life,

that paradise,

if it existed once,

comes now in fits and spurts

and is often messy.

By the sixth day I was sure

that in the beginning

was desire,

that this mother-child relation happened

not because you bore my image

but because a wild love

flared at every union

as though my emptied self

were a burning mystery.

Julie Robinson in The Hermeneutics of Charity: Interpretation, Selfhood, and Postmodern Faith, James K. A. Smith and Henry Isaac Venema, Ed. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2004, 19-20.

Image from The Presentation at the Temple, by Andrea Mantegna

Reflections on an American tendency toward a Civil Religion

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Sun, 12 Oct 2008 15:02:00 +0000

This gentle cynic has become puzzled and curious about the capacity of dependence or devotion many American’s give to the presidency or executive power of this nation. This social phenomenon, of course, has been recently amplified with the current presidential race. One could think with all the energy given to the prospects and assumed roles of this office, my community, my family, and self would be in jeopardy without the right person presiding in the executive office.

Granted, one sitting president has the potential of making an awful mess out of things as well as making a significant mark in the course of events; yet I cannot conceive how this individual and his or her administration can make much difference in my life of hopes and dreams, unless he or she has become for me (us) a high priest of sorts in what has been termed an "American civil religion." All the talk of faith with individuals running for the presidency informs this cultural notion and a clearly vibrant fight to keep it alive.

History has proven too many times that nationalism and religion do not mix well; for there becomes a strong tendency of religious influence on a national level or movement to produce a greater likelihood for discrimination and human rights violations. As Stjepan Gabriel Mestrovic argues, civil religious notions actually smack the genuine face of true religion. "Civil religion is neither bona fide religion nor ordinary patriotism, but a new alloy formed by blending religion with nationalism. If civil religions were bona fide religions then one would expect to find a soft side to them, teaching love of neighbor and upholding peace and compassion. But this is not the case." (Quoted by Gerald A. Parsons, "From nationalism to internationalism: civil religion and the festival of Saint Catherine of Siena" in Journal of Church and State, September 22, 2004)

Hence, refusing to be part of supporting civil religion does not mean abandoning religious commitment and belief. If anything, it requires of us a rigorous re-examination of our religious traditions with our current experience with religious nationalism. Thus, this gentle cynic is glad to see and hear of a growing civil unrest against a belief in this kind of America among various religious groups, communities, and organizations. He is thankful for the present polarization of the so called "right" and "left" and the many growing, organic groups that make up a chaotic bouquet seeking a more universal order transcending any merely human office and power.

A Brief Response to "The Culpability of Christianity in the Destruction of the Natural World"

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Tue, 08 Apr 2008 17:30:00 +0000

Here are some brief theological implications from Christian teaching that inform and guide this gentle cynic on a recovery path to becoming a faithful human steward of Creation.

My own search for theological insight emerged partly from Wendell Berry’s indictment (voiced by the conservation movement): “the culpability of Christianity in the destruction of the natural world and the uselessness of Christianity in any effort to correct that destruction.”

The following reflection focuses on three areas: 1.) a creaturely contemplation, 2.) a descending dominion, and 3.) a life of holiness.

A Creaturely Contemplation

For most of my adult life, I, along with many in the Christian tradition, have given little attention to how our modern view of nature and its resulting praxis affects the rest of creation, e.g., animals and the environment. Over time, my indifference has become my sin, a gaping void that thankfully is slowly being filled with human wholeness in every aspect of life through the embodiment of Jesus Christ. The beginning of this conversion has included, along with reading from various Christian perspectives, spending almost five years intimately connected to the outdoors and experiencing what Eugene Peterson, calls “the only adequate launching pad for exploring a spirituality of creation”—wonder.[2]

Most recently, I have been silenced again during the season of Epiphany, a celebration of the manifestation of God in the midst of the world of humankind. In the Eastern tradition, Epiphany is “the season of silent mystic contemplation.” It is an occasion for wonder. God is openly present within humanity; and is to be found in the material things of life; i.e., in the space between you and me when we deeply care for one another within the everyday stuff of life.[3]

Tradition instructs us that silence is a necessary discipline that helps open our eyes to the presence of God in the created world and order. McClendon reminds us that Christian prayer imagines the reality of God’s presence in the “created cosmos in which prayer occurs.” He cites the “Disciples’ Prayer” as a way to illustrate the ancient practice of grounding ourselves theologically in respect to a holy God who is deeply involved in the created world and order with a nurturing presence. Furthermore, the Disciples’ Prayer with its various petitions declares “the divine creative purpose” and looks to God’s sustaining presence “for created and creative wholeness in our earthly journey.”[4]

A Descending Dominion

One of the challenges many Christians have to sort out is how we think about ourselves as creatures in relation to our view of creation. For Berry, the prominent concern of this enquiry is ecological; and it is rooted in the recognition that God calls humans to care for the earth and its resources in responsible and just ways.[5] McClendon rightly calls for a view of creation that replaces the old, worn, and destructive vision of human dominion that is so often inclined toward the primacy of consumption which leads to corruption and destruction of natural resources.

To “have dominion” (a translation of Genesis 1:26) derives from the same root as “to descend.” This latter meaning helps to orient the human steward in its rightful place: a representative of God faithfully upholding divine principles of law and justice, and promoting peace and prosperity for the nature (ecology) put under their care.[6] It may well be that this command corresponds with the New Testament model of servant-leadership, which appears upside down in relation to the domineering or “ascending” management behaviors we experience and find so often in history. We could say that servant-leadership is to the church what proper stewardship is to ecology, or to our “economics” as defined by Berry (connecting religion with the way we live). Berry is right about the destruction of nature through our lording over it. “It is flinging God’s gifts into His face, as if they were of no worth beyond that assigned to them by our destruction of them.”[7]

To “descend” is to affirm our place in Creation, rising above the Platonic dichotomy that pulls us apart and in competition with the material gifts and blessings of God’s abundant creation while seeing ourselves as “members of the holy community of creation.”[8] On one hand, I am made in the image of God; on the other hand, like the animal, plants, and environment, “I face something that is like myself.”[9]

Moreover, to “descend” is to respond appropriately in deep-awe “rising from the immeasurable gap that separates Creator and creature.” Thus, our sense of “creatureliness” lays any conceived crown of dominion before the One who sits on the throne depicted in Revelation 4, as a rightful response to the “all embracing rule of God.”[10] Instead of acting as independent agents on a crusade to master a turbulent world, we find ourselves radically dependent on God, who “is one who contains all things, works richly in them, gives them their individual places within the whole, and thus bestows harmony on all things. The human creature likewise is at home in the creation, not a stranger and pilgrim in an alien world.”[11]

A Life of Holiness

Berry calls for a clear distinction between what the Bible instructs about Creation and the actual behavior of the instructed. Essentially, it is a call to holiness, a comprehensive and far-reaching “holiness of life.” He reminds us that “holiness” is not only possible in our Christian activities and behaviors practiced at church and the seminary, but in every day life at our places of labor, at home, our communities, and beyond.[12] To practice this holiness of life means making shifts in the way we live, subtle changes that are built on what Brueggemann calls “creation faith”; i.e., a “declaration of truth that makes a decisive difference in the public life of the world.”[13]

In the Northwest coastline, there is a place called “Salmon Nation.” It is not outlined by political boundaries, but by its coastline and by the rivers that reach deep into its lands. Salmon Nation’s geographical boundaries are simply defined as “anywhere Pacific salmon have ever run.” Salmon Nation is real, made up of a community of caretakers and citizens, a community that stretches across arbitrary boundaries and divides. They bring new meaning to the word cooperative, communitarian “with unusual alliances of tribes, fishermen, farmers, ranchers, loggers, and urban-dwellers working together to improve their neighborhoods and watersheds.” Salmon Nation is a gift. The prosperity of Salmon Nation is based on mutual trust and not special interests. It is an economy that nourishes the human spirit and conserves the natural resources.[14] It is an illustration, which begs our attention as we seek to live holy in an effort to correct the destruction of the natural world.

[1] Wendell Berry, “Christianity and the Survival of Creation” in Sex, Economy, Freedom and Community (New York: Pantheon Books, 1992), 93-94.

[2] Eugene H. Peterson, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places (Grand Rapids, Eerdmans, 2005) 52.

[3] Jay Rochelle, The Revolutionary Year: Recapturing the Meaning of the Christian Year (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1973), 26.

[4] James Wm. McClendon, Systematic Theology: Volume II, Doctrine (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1994), 155-156.

[5] McClendon, 156.

[6] Gordon J. Wenham, Word Biblical Commentary: Volume I, Genesis 1-15 (Waco, TX: Word Books, 1987), 33

[7] Berry, 98

[8] Ibid, 106.

[9] Francis Schaeffer, Pollution and the Death of Man: The Christian View of Ecology (Wheaton, IL: Tyndale, 1970), 51.

[10] McClendon, 148.

[11] Ibid., 158; here quoting Paul Santmire, The Travail of Nature: The Ambiguous Ecological Promise of Christian Theology.

[12] Berry, 100.

[13] Walter Brueggemann, “Creation” in Reverberation of Faith (Louisville: Westminster, 2002), 42.

[14] Salmon Nation official web site, http://www.salmonnation.com.

Stars and Stripes Removed

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Fri, 08 Feb 2008 00:12:00 +0000

I have recently found when some hear of my honorable discharge from the military as a conscientious objector, an inevitable question comes from some, “Do you love your country?” I immediately have to wonder what they mean by “country.” Even good intentioned “Christians” (some more clearly than others) are no doubt referring to some form of patriotism or nationalism, which more than often borders on state worship if you are willing to think it through. Sometimes a follow-up question is retorted, “Do you love the flag?”

In fairness, this gentle cynic (cultural critique) sees more clearly today how difficult it was for me in the past and is for many Christians to find release from the hypnotizing hold of the stars and to become untangled from the confining stripes of American nationalism, a kind of "worship" that supersedes and dictates our Christian praxis.

Consider a fact, that today America is compared to the Roman Empire in various aspects; e.g., in the title Pax Americana (a “peace” requiring violence to keep it in check) is used by various historians (Cullen Murphy, Anne-Marie Slaughter). With this and other historical parallels, it has been interesting to learn of several accounts of Christian disciples during the early centuries of the Christian church (1^st – 3^rd) who left military service because of imbedded idol worship. The early Church supported those men who refused to sacrifice before Roman idols and as a result left military service. Surely, beyond the fact that Jesus Christ calls us to be and act as peacemakers, we are also called to come out from among them, i.e., the worship of idols and of one's nation (see St. Paul in 2 Corinthians 6:16-18, quoting Isaiah 52:11-12).

It is true, greater than the nation where we live is who we are; for indeed, we are the people of God. What my good Christian friends do not realize is that what they are ascribing to an “All Hail America!” when the Gospel is announcing “Jesus is Lord!” I personally can no longer say both and get away with it as many do. Many American founders never envisioned a people worshiping their country, quite the contrary. If anything they sought to guard against it.

In this flux time where we who seek the nearness of God’s kingdom, I prescribe a patriotism built on love of the following: first the Land created by God, which we are to serve, protect, and sustain as stewards; and second, the People which today is vastly becoming multi-cultural (E Pluribus Unum), which includes, yes, Muslim immigrants. God made many nations and tribes, not that we may be divided or fight those who are different, but that we may know one another (a loose translation of the Qur’an).

As far as the American flag goes, it has become a powerful symbol of sacrifice, which conjures up images of countless soldiers who gave their lives in defense of what it symbolizes (i.e. the grand experiment of freedom). For a careful, thoughtful Christian, there is no other symbol of genuine freedom than the cross of Jesus Christ. I am convinced of the need of a greater emphasis for the discipline of thoughtfulness among those who share community under the name of Christ; for t rue life is a freedom, which loses its life in order to find it, instead of serving its own life and thereby losing it. Thus it is freedom transcending the self and subsisting in ‘the other’ by love.

Postscript: I wish to challenge anyone seeking to be a devoted disciple of Jesus to take seriously an intentional undertaking of the task of casuistry with an aim to better understand one's connectiveness in a fragmented world of competing narratives (American nationalism vs. the Christian narrative). Such a discipline is needed if we are to “better appreciate how what we do not only fits within the story of our lives, but also how it is determined by and determines the ongoing story of the Christian community” (Stanley Hauerwas, “Casuistry as a Narrative Art” in The Peaceable Kingdom: A Primer in Christian Ethics (Notre Dame: Univ. of Notre Dame Press, 1983), 130.

Artwork by Sam Weber

The Progressive

Trapped

2007

Ink and Digital

Advent Meditation in Verse

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Sun, 16 Dec 2007 00:51:00 +0000

beholding Jesus

express image of God

his father he loved

we him as All

he fully human

we full of holes

fills us with goodness

commends us to go

light of lights

turn we must

death and resurrection

our now and foretold

true simplicity

bow and bend unashamed

our delight

turning round right

Dan J Seifert, December 2007

The First Xmas

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 12:15:00 +0000

I have to nudge the cultural notion of Christmas a little this year; it's the gently cynical thing to do.

The First Xmas or dismissal from the garden (mas, mass, to send, dismiss)

"I offered you my undivided Presence; yet instead, you took the presents under the tree."

Culture Critique Full Circle

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Thu, 29 Nov 2007 15:54:00 +0000

I have spent some time recently considering where I am in this art of gentle cynicism. For lately, I have found myself angry (the overly and unproductive kind) and bordering on bitterness, only to be awakened to a better reality—a taking of stock, a stock that includes a reminder that the world is filled with many unhappy people who live with the fruits of injustice and without much chance to escape what feels like a meaningless existence. Connected with this is the need for us (yes, me) to struggle with what is happening around us in ways that put us in places to make some difference, to offer meaning, and to alter some of the discomfort through real change. I realize getting to such a “place” requires some—if not a lot—of imagination and endurance.

In this recent taking of stock, having learned from others, is the practice of cultural critique (maybe a better way of to live out the idea of “gentle cynic”). Culture critique on one hand, is given to some important debate and discussion, while on the other hand, it is given to action, even if it is experimental upfront. As a consequence from an ongoing succession of action and critical reflection, there just might emerge real answers to the injustices which grab our attention and call us to action.

To borrow from James McClendon’s clever image of the human condition, we are “swiss cheese folk poked with holes from head to heel.” Perhaps through a full expression of culture critique, we might find that some of our gaping holes will be found filled with human wholeness in significant aspects of life through the embodiment of the “true humanity” as measured against “authentic, undiminished humanity,” embodied in Jesus, who is “the Truly Human One.”* Thanks be to God!

* James Wm. McClendon, Jr. Doctrine: Systematic Theology, Volume II. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1994, 124

> A recent story for illustration: “An Architecture of Decency” at Speaking of Faith

Grateful for the Legacy of Peacemakers

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Mon, 19 Nov 2007 01:15:00 +0000

Since I have made known to some the news of my early discharge from the military as a conscientious objector (CO), there has been interest among some for me to tell my story. There is truly much to say about the reality of God's Shalom project through Jesus Christ and the social ethic of Christ's church, yet it would seem that many are more interested in hearing about my process or the story as it unfolded in and around the military. Even though in the long haul my story will bear evidence of some personal difficulty, I had not feared for my life nor did I endure any harassment from others like many in the past who have paved the way for CO’s today. So I need to say how grateful I am for the “Historic Peace Churches”, the coalition of Mennonites, Friends or Quakers, and Brethren who advocated for the rights of conscientious objectors in the pre-World War II years. Their shared conviction has been that Jesus’ life and teaching makes the rejection of violence normative (the way things ought to be) for all Christians. Second, it feels a bit unfair to me that my story finds intrigue by some when there are those who have lived faithfully having been shaped since their youth as genuine peacemakers—those who I am intrigued by. I am just beginning this journey of being shaped in this way. Do not get me wrong, I am grateful and find it helpful to tell my story, for it is assisting me in constructing a public response for the reality of God's peace while making me more aware what is around me, what has influenced me, and what continues to challenge me to go further. The “end” (being discharged) is but a beginning for me, which I find a bit scary when I think what it might mean for me to live out the virtue of peaceableness in the months and years ahead

God’s will be done on earth as it is heaven!

Photo link: http://www.plowsharesproject.org/

Stories: http://www.emu.edu/seminary/features/seifert

Nature and Beliefs that Disallow Participation in War

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Sat, 06 Oct 2007 00:17:00 +0000

This gentle cynic received some surprising news this week regarding a process that I actually began in 2002 while deployed with the Chaplain Corps of the U.S. Army. It was then that I began to have serious doubts about the compatibility of war (supporting military efforts) and the way of Jesus (the reality of the nearness of God's kingdom). After a lengthy deliberation and resulting transformation, I came to a place where I had no choice than to declare myself a conscientious objector.

As of Oct. 1, 2007, I am honorably discharged from the Army. I did not think military’s decision would come so soon, since what I have read advises the process can take on average one year from application to discharge. My initial letter and application were dated mid-April; that is less than six months.

Below I have pasted my response to one of six questions that must be answered in the application process.

NATURE OF BELIEFS THAT DISALLOW PARTICIPATION IN WAR:

What follows is with a sincere desire to be fully honest with myself, the Christian church, and my military unit. After my enlistment, I have become a pacifist which means I have a sincere and fixed belief that war is wrong in any form. This leads to my request for an honorable discharge from military service as a conscientious objector 1-0.

My sincere conviction that war in any form is wrong springs from a theological/ethical framework, a belief founded on the reality of God. For me participation in the Trinity is the purpose of all creation because “salvation” is participation in God’s own being. The obedience of God’s Son, as well as the ongoing presence of the Holy Spirit, draws me, a member of God’s church, into the very life of God, a life characterized by peaceableness which goes against the grain of military culture.

My conviction to live peaceably with all—even my enemies—has become clear to me in an Old Testament prophetic pronouncement which reads, “He (God) shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.” (Isaiah 2.4; Joel 3.10, Micah 4.3) My firm conviction includes seeing God’s kingdom existing now in Jesus the Messiah and in the life of His church. The image of plows (changed from swords) points to the church as culture cultivating obedience to Christ and a conformity to the radical ways of God’s kingdom, ways which reverse what goes on in this world and have no place in God’s kingdom—war (swords) being one of them. It is Christian culturing that has over the last few years brought about this radical reversal in my life; for as I once participated or supported the military (swords), I now am transformed to learn war no more.

Thus my request for conscientious objector 1-0 is my obedient response to this prophetic announcement and Jesus Christ’s subsequent teaching and example of peaceableness, which is expressed throughout the Christian narrative: from the commandment, “You shall not kill” (Exodus 20:13) to the array of martyrs who chose to die rather than defend (Revelation 6:9-11); and from the ancient command to love one’s neighbors (Mark 12:31f) to the teachings and example of Christ concerning loving one’s enemies (Luke 6:27-35).

From my reflections, Jesus normalizes peacemaking for the Christian (Matthew 5:9). I recognize, understandably, that this is not the case in the military. It is imperative for me now that peacemaking characterize both a communal and vocational distinctive in my life. If I am to preach peace as a reality of the kingdom of God (Acts 10.36) then I must also live it in the fullest manner. I have not always believed this way, for I like many Christians in the military have not recognized the things that make for peace (Luke 19:42) and unfortunately, peace is not readily on the hearts and minds of many due to the agendas and narratives of our wider culture (Romans 3:17). For me vengeance belongs to God—not me, nor the military (Romans 12:14-21). I cannot be a part of the military because vengeance is a normal response, which is to be left to God. Unlike the military culture, peacemaking is fundamental to the distinctive political and social nature of the faithful church, to the Way of Jesus Christ for which I seek to be a faithful participant.

The theology of my own faith tradition convinces me that salvation is the cultivation of the holiness in one’s communal life. This reality means for me a sincere change of my heart (Romans 2:27; Colossians 2:9f.) where the Spirit of God has cultivated in me humility, faith, hope, and love. In recent months, this ongoing spiritual change has summoned the conviction and desire to live peaceably with all people (Romans 12:18); and by “all” I believe to mean the “world” for which God sent His Son into the world to save (John 3:16f).

The nature of my belief affirms that “war and bloodshed are contrary to the teaching and example of Christ” (“Confession of Faith” United Methodist Church). This common “rule” calls for my disciplined attention as a member of the United Methodist Church, which I joined after my enlistment. Obedience to this “rule” requires concentration, care, and consistency so that my witness participates in the ongoing ministry of reconciliation of people to God, which cannot tolerate any form or shape of coercion, vengeance, violence, and war. For these things make that witness ineffective, for they are completely incompatible with the life of a disciple of Christ. To go to war is usurping God’s authority and moreover His ability to make things right in the world.

I cannot pretend that I can be a soldier. For the New Testament is clear that my neighbor is first the one against whom my weapon is directed. I am thus called to love my enemy and to work out ways to relate to him or her so that God might reconcile us. This is the challenge of the reality of social ethics in the Christian gospel. My enemy is no less my neighbor than my family, friends, and community. Thus killing the “enemy” is denying a witness and a reconciliation to take shape.

The nature of my conviction that war in any form is wrong grows out of a deeper understanding and experience of love, the kind of love cultivated by God’s Spirit in the Church and through her witness—a response to God’s love for all the inhabitants of the world (John 3:16f.). There is no room therefore for hatred, vengeance, and killing. This kind of love “does not insist on it s own way” and “is not irritable or resentful” (I Corinthians 13.5). It suffers with endurance even unto death. Love does not do wrong even for one’s beloved. Love can suffer until death for another, but love cannot kill for one’s beloved since it would hurt and soil the other. It is said that a soldier is a person who sacrifices himself for the nation. I see it differently. A soldier does not want to sacrifice himself; he wants to survive a war (winning is what it is all about in the military way), and thus only wants to sacrifice the “enemy”. Therefore, the “enemies” who are killed are the real sacrifices of a war. This is not the kind of love I read of in the Scriptures. I must be willing to do no harm; and like Jesus, I must be willing to suffer while loving another—even an enemy.

In conclusion to this first question, it is important to note that the nature and meaning of my pacifism, which leads to my request for an honorable discharge from military service as a conscientious objector 1-0, is to be a faithful disciple of Jesus Christ who is named Lord of all. It is not merely a “principle”, it is a virtue to be practiced at all cost as it sustains my witness of the good news of the kingdom of God, a kingdom of peace that has no end (Luke 1.32-33).

Photo: Conscientious Objector Memorial, Tavistock Sq Gardens, Bloomsbury, London

The Emerging Church in my Sights

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Wed, 01 Aug 2007 14:22:00 +0000

Since my last post, my journey has been given to listening to voices in the Emerging Church conversation, while the gentleness of my cynicism keeps me in a mainline church without making an impulsive and uninformed exit to something else. I remind myself that I came as a traveler to this mainline denomination, and that in the end, it has helped me in various ways. Nonetheless, I am listening for the movement of the Spirit of God who overcomes any cynicism and is leading me through insight to undertake a period of discernment that may well lead me elsewhere while gaining some new level of orthoparadoxy. I will continue to appreciate and delight in the beauty of the liturgy and the wonder of the space of the church I attend, even though it is overly conservative and structured with an outdated, inherited style of culture. Though they seek fresh change at some level, it will be slow in coming. Since I am not of their tradition, I am not sure I can wait. In the meantime, I am energized to look seriously at the emerging church “movement”. Some of the sites that have been browsing and networking with are below (for starters).

http://www.dwightfriesen.com/

http://www.emergentvillage.org/

http://www.frwy.ca/

http://www.allelon.org/main.cfm

http://www.ecclesiahouston.org/v2/index.php

http://www.btinternet.com/%7Esmallritual/index.html

http://www.precipicemagazine.com/

http://www.brianmclaren.net/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emerging_Church

Being Transformed of Character and Heart

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Wed, 18 Apr 2007 10:45:00 +0000

In Matthew’s gospel, the church is to be the light of the world, a city on a hill (5.13-16); i.e., a contrast society living now in anticipation of the pronounced blessings of Jesus in the Beatitudes (5.3-12). The kingdom of God is near; hence the church embodies its vision while being transformed by its reality. The church proclaims and lives according to the anticipated restoration of God’s Shalom by waiting on God to put things in the right rather than enforcing it through violence (10.7f.). Disciples of Christ in community with holistic intentionality pay attention to Jesus’ teaching and story, realizing that they spell out the character that befits kingdom living. Over time, followers of Christ’s teaching and story are transformed in character and heart; i.e., they gain a practical force in the wider society. Stanley Hauerwas likens the church to a kiln which hardens us into a visible and resilient Christian character that “both collides with and resists the worldly powers that dominate our lives”.[*] This visible character includes visible practices that are sustained by virtues which make it possible to overcome adversity from the wider world of powers which appear as temptations, dangers, hardships, and distractions. Matthew’s vision is clear; the kingdom of God transforms everything. This is certainly good news to the gentle cynic!

[*] R. R. Reno, “Stanley Hauerwas” in Blackwell Companion to Political Theology, Ed. Peter Scott, and William T. Cavanaugh (2006), 305-306; for Hauerwas, the church “is the social ethic of Christians.”

Holding before Us in Worship the Faithful Witness of Jesus, the Slaughtered Lamb

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 08:19:00 +0000

This gentle cynic distinguishes the error of the church conceiving Jesus as a warrior king who through his church mingled with nation (America) snuffs out evil. On the contrary, Luke’s gospel makes clear that it was necessary that Jesus should suffer and then enter His glory (Lk 24.26). He is the kingly entity that rode into Jerusalem peaceably on a donkey (Lk. 19.35-38) and then laid His life down a ransom for all (Mk 10.45; 1Tim 2.6). The history of Judaism and Christianity have depicted Messiah (Jesus) with various terms that describe Him as a conquering divine agent; yet when He appears in Revelation in the throne scene, His true aspect is “a Lamb standing as if it had been slaughtered” (Rev. 5.6, 12; 13.8). Richard Hayes’ response is fitting, ‘The shock of this reversal discloses the central mystery of the Apocalypse: God overcomes the world not through a show of force but through the suffering and death of Jesus, “the faithful witness [Greek martys]” (1.5).’

Not only is this vision to be held as accurate concerning Jesus Christ, but also accurate in how the church is sent out into the world as His faithful witnesses. Furthermore, the conquering image is more largely reversed through the revealing of His royal clothing and weaponry. The royal clothing is dipped or stained in His own blood (19.13); and the weapon that strikes the nations proceeds from His mouth, which is the Word of God (19.15). Our liturgy must place the Lamb at the center of our worship, and we must push out what this means now and in the end, i.e., our response in light of this great reversal—“Jesus stands as the faithful witness who conquers through suffering."

Quotations from Richard Hayes in The Moral Vision of the New Testament. New York: Harper Collins, 1996, 173-175.

Discerning the Real Identity of Jesus

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Wed, 07 Mar 2007 02:03:00 +0000

In light of misleading gospels in our Western Culture (e.g., a fixation on health and prosperity—i.e, “be happy” and positive thinking; “new spirituality” or this-worldly monism [see Linda Woodhead, “Sophia of Gnosis? Christianity and New Age Spirituality” in Where Shall Wisdom Be Found , Ed. Stephen C. Barton. Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1999 ] this gentle cynic finds it essential to reflect on one of the most basic and crucial truths, the identity of Jesus Christ.

Much of Mark’s Gospel works around a pivotal question Jesus asked His disciples, “But who do you say that I am?” (8.29) As odd as it may seem, on several occasions, Jesus told His disciples and others not to tell anyone how they viewed His identity. For Jesus realized they did not understand who He really was, only partially; and in their Jewish imagination, they had lost touch with the Biblical narrative (Old Testament) and its full portrayal of the coming Messiah (Luke’s gospel touches on this in a big way). The few who did seem to really discern who Jesus was were a few Gentles and demons.

Many had no problem seeing the visible part of his identity, viz., “a prophet mighty in word and deed” (Lk 24.19). What they did not see was the reality that followed and sent His disciples scattered in denial, viz., the Suffering Servant. If we are to confess Jesus as the Centurion did, “this was the Son of God” (15.39; also 1.11; 9.7); then we must also discern the good news of His being the suffering Son of Man. Why is this discernment necessary? For to be Jesus’ disciple means to allow one’s own identity to be stamped by the identity of the one who dies forsaken on the cross (cruciformity). Thus, discerning Jesus’ identity means discerning one's own identity; and it will help one to properly define the gospel which the gospel writers, Paul, and the cloud of faithful witnesses before us were willing to die for.

Living in the Reality of God’s Kingdom Come

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Tue, 27 Feb 2007 11:07:00 +0000

Jesus, writes Richard Hayes, is 'a "king" who claims an ultimate allegiance that transcends Caesar’s jurisdiction'. If the church is to live in this reality, how might it be perceived by the wider world; and how will it appear as it lives out the fundamental distinction of church and empire, which is often mingled? Jesus’ is presented as a non-violent leader in the midst of an aggressive empire who refused "to defer to the existing political authority" (126). As in the early church, the contemporary church finds the “kings of the earth” in opposition to her Lord, and His kingdom (Ps. 2.2; Acts 4.26; Rev. 19.19). Thus, the church must guard itself against the notion that it has a responsibility to accept power over the other. Rather, like Jesus and the early church, it is to re-socialize people into its community life which defines its norms by the life and teachings of Jesus (Acts 26.18; Matt. 11.28-30). Thus the church will appear and be a counter-cultural witnessing community that orients its life around the reality that God’s kingdom has come (Acts 17.6-7); i.e., making present what is yet to come (Matt. 6.10; living eschatologically).

Quotations from Richard Hayes in The Moral Vision of the New Testament. New York: Harper Collins, 1996.

Leaving the Empire

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Tue, 09 Jan 2007 17:18:00 +0000

As the American Empire wrestles about how it will continue with its part and contribution to the violence in Iraq, this gentle cynic resumes his reflection on the question, “Why violence?” Now I am one in exile, patiently waiting to leave the military in the coming months; for I am one who during a recent deployment experienced and began a conversion from blindly giving my allegiance to a nation ridden with anxiety to hearing the call of Yahweh’s Messiah, Jesus, who says, “Depart, depart, go out from there! Touch no unclean thing; go out from the midst of it, purify yourselves, you who carry the vessels of the LORD. For you shall not go out in haste, and you shall not go in flight; for the LORD will go before you, and the God of Israel will be your rear guard.” (Isaiah 52:11-12) Beginning with a sober awakening and the opening of Scripture, there resumes for me an ongoing theological reflection, which is the beginnings of an ethical response to this simple claim: military service is incompatible with Christian existence.

In the weeks ahead, I wish to share some theological content and the workings of an ethical response, as I begin my final months of military service. Of course, this is more about being God’s people called to exist in faithful worshiping communities enabled to do the will of God (“what is good and acceptable and perfect” Rom. 12:1-2) than it is about military involvement in Iraq or any other violent, illusionary power.

Evolutionary Movements of a Gentle Cynic

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Mon, 01 Jan 2007 17:19:00 +0000

I observe many, it would seem, who are heartily seeking with much energy (emotional, physical, mental) something(s) outside of them and with little to no orientation toward the inward, i.e., the treasures and wealth within. Perhaps I have become simply more attuned or aware of what weightier and wealthier assets are found within than others are willing or able to express. It certainly seems disheartening for me to see so many, it would seem, chasing after the wind, i.e., chasing after the attractive promises of temporality.

As a gentle cynic, I continue to see and experience the benefit of simplistic living, which is not merely a motivation to be separate from the dominant culture of materialism and injustice; but rather, a deep desire to experience more fully the kingdom of God now realized and yet forthcoming (a longstanding Jewish/Christian expectation that is being fulfilled).

Because of the vigorous reach of this reality in my life, I take the opportunity of a new year to reflect on a few major movements that have occurred over time, which give a picture of some obvious differences (tranformation) making up the evolution of this gentle cynic. It is an an evolution of becoming less a chaser of the cultural winds and more a person of the Kingdom of God. I am . . .

Less media driven (driven by sense) and more thoughtful (journeying via spiritual senses)

Less a consumer of material attachment and more aware and inviting of the immaterial as a growing spirit

Less a nationalistic worldview and more a global perspective, for the whole earth is the Lords

Less capitalistic which focuses on the gains of a few and more egalitarian which focuses on sharing with the many

Less merely rational (modern worldview) and experience (cause and effect) and more faith (faith seeking understanding), rational (reason, a human capacity), and experience (with the goal of appropriate, thoughtful response)

Less ambivalent about violent means and more proactive about peaceful practices and initiatives (a vision of God’s shalom—a reality to be realized and forthcoming in totality)

“There Is a Spirit Which I Feel”

by James Nayler (1660)

Can I, imprisoned, body-bounded, touch

The starry robe of God, and from my soul,

My tiny Part, reach forth to his great Whole,

And spread my Little to the infinite Much,

When Truth forever slips from out my clutch,

And what I take indeed, I do not dole

In cupfuls from a rimless ocean-bowl

That holds a million million million such?

And yet, some Thing that moves among the stars,

And holds the cosmos in a web of law,

Moves too in me: a hunger, a quick thaw

Of soul that liquefies the ancient bars,

As I, a member of creation, sing

The burning oneness binding everything.

Triadic Mindfulness

seifertdan@hotmail.com (Daniel Seifert) — Sat, 23 Dec 2006 16:20:00 +0000

Faith, reason, and experience have played major parts in the construct of human thoughts, ideas, and solutions. They have been at the heart of the tension between the freedom of self and the fate of circumstances. Even so, dominating the human landscape are copious examples of confining individualist thinking towering over families, organizations, governments, societies, and cultures at the expense of other rich and varied world views of reality. Inflated egos, lust, anxiety are strong motivators which block individuals and cultures from being thoughtful. Thankfully, the choice can be made to be thoughtful individuals and groups who seek to infuse richness into the mix, so as to churn slow, dull minds into more active, imaginative, environments.

A current example: Today, Americans (especially, led by the present US Administration) failed by not listening to the Islamic culture before and after the event of 09-11-01; and instead, reacted in anxiety to our own "national interest" of economy and from a societal denial of death. We were challenged to resume our lives rather than reflect, and to shop instead of grieve. Our nation continues to live in a multi-leveled quandary stemming from a deficiency of thoughtfulness as in the days after 9-11.

We would do well as Westerners to listen to the thought streams of the East and remember the epochs of learning from our own West, from which . . .

credo ut intelligum,

I believe in order to understand.

“Faith seeking understanding”

Then followed . . .

cogito ergo sum,

I think, therefore I am.

And now, for our generations, coined by Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy . . .

respondeo etsi mutabor.

I respond, although I shall be changed

Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy commented about the three in their order: truth is divine and has been divinely revealed; truth is pure and can be scientifically stated; but now, "truth is vital and must be socially represented." God spoke first and continues to speak. Life listens, reasons, and responds. One alone is insufficient; all three form a triadic completion.

Holy

▲

Self / World

When there is a rupture or void in the “reality” of the self/world, the Holy is present to heal, redeem, save. The natural process is seeking, scanning in a most primal form—faith; it is acommitment to the reality of the Holy. Thinking—reason makes its way in the deliberations, while the hidden Holy continues to seek a way of entering the space. Unless one (individual, group, society, culture) gets stuck (losses the ability to pursue thoughtfully and hear what the Holy is speaking), the rupture or void is gradually filled with something which gives meaning and energy for which to respond appropriately (creative solutions). The whole process may well be painful and risky, however vital and necessary change is always difficult. Moreover, in the course of time, it becomes verifiably interpreted.