Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Martin and Teresa

Over on Kirby's blog, in the midst of a peculiar discussion of what Martin Luther believed, jh asked, “what would luther have said regarding mother theresa of calcutta.” I begged for more time, because I don't think this is an easy question, and I think it deserves a careful answer. And part of the complication, which I'll acknowledge, is that jh is himself a monk, and therefore imbedded in his question, intentionally or not, is a more than a little bit of “what would Luther think of me?” I'd like to give answers (to the former explicitly, to the later implicitly) that are both sensitive and accurate.

The big complication in the case of Mother Teresa, and a major part of the reason that I asked for time to research and think, has to do with revelations of the spiritual “emptiness” that silently dominated the last half-century of her life. This engages a major theological concern of Luther, albeit in an extraordinary way.

My approach to this question will be to view Mother Teresa of Calcutta from three different perspectives, each of which aligns with particular Lutheran concerns, and in order from greater certainty to lesser how I think Luther would have reacted to each.

Good Works

Mother Teresa is known for her work in Calcutta, attending to the sick and dying, and eventually to orphans as well. Teresa has received many honors from her work, from both temporal and religious authorities.

Luther surely would have applauded Teresa's good works. His concern about good works was that many of the people of the day felt that they needed to earn their way into heaven through good works, and that this was an impossible obligation. Indeed, he'd have vehemently rejected the possibility that even Teresa's good works were adequate in and of themselves to earn salvation. But Teresa never said they were. She didn't do good works to get into heaven, she did good works because she felt a very specific “call within the call,” and so her good works were a direct response to faith. Luther would have approved.

Teresa's calling as a Nun

The Augsburg confession is divided into two major parts. The first part consisted of a summary of basic theological commitments that the German princes thought were relatively non-controversial, the “Chief Articles of Faith.” They were wrong—the Catholics found plenty in that part to object to. The second part, “Disputed Articles, Listing the Abuses That Have Been Corrected” they knew would be controversial. Article XXVII, “Concerning Monastic Vows” belongs to the second part.

This article, in large part, sets up a distinction between monastic communities of Augustine's time (which were viewed favorably), with the monastic communities of Luther's day. It seems to me that many of the particular concerns he had regarding the monastic communities of his day have been dealt with by subsequent reformers within the monastic orders, and he would only have minor concerns about contemporary communities.

A principle distinction was that monasticism during the Augustinian era was seen as a voluntary association of adults, whereas the sixteenth century communities (at least in Germany) were not. Instead, pre-pubescent children were coerced into giving final vows of chastity, long before they could give informed consent. And once these vows were given, the church was able to use the full authority of the state to enforce them as contracts. Teresa took final vows in her mid-20's, and was certainly willing and able at that point to give informed consent. Moreover, there is no evidence that I'm aware of that coercion played any role in Teresa's call to be a nun, or to remain a nun. The evidence seems quite to the contrary. Luther never denied the possibility that a person might be able to make and sustain a commitment to monastic service, and I believe he would have seen Teresa's call as valid, and her accepting of that call as honorable and laudable.

The reformers were also concerned that monasticism was presented as something superior to baptism. Remember that part of the theoretical justification for indulgences was supererogation, the notion that the church possessed a reserve of excess merit created by the monastic orders which it could dispense to those it chose. I don't see that this kind of consideration was relevant to Teresa, or indeed to the contemporary Catholic church more generally. Teresa was inspired by missionaries, and sought to emulate them as the most fulfilling kind of life for her. Again, I think Luther would have approved.

Indeed, Luther would have been greatly reassured by the temptations that Teresa experienced early in her special ministry to the dying to give up, and return to the monastery, and with Teresa's ability to withstand that temptation. Luther expected the virtuous to be tempted, and to have to struggle, but that through Christ's grace, they would persevere.

“Emptiness and Darkness”

No account of Mother Teresa's life can be complete without acknowledging the despair she felt for the last half-century of her life. The sense of the presence of God, which figured so prominently in her “call within a call” departed. And she felt a huge spiritual emptiness: no sense of the presence of God at all, “neither in her heart or in the eucharist.”

Luther felt that the works emphasis of the Catholicism of his day lead to despair. But while Teresa had the symptoms, she didn't have the disease. Her despair was not based on a fear that she wasn't doing enough, it was on the exceptional circumstance that the sense of the presence of God, once so powerful and life directing, was gone, leaving an unfillable void behind. I don't believe that Luther ever conceived of this possibility.

Certainly, he believed that the cure to existential crises over salvation was to embrace Christ's promises fervently and with confidence. Critics of Luther sometimes say that he's replaced the question of “have I done enough?,” with an even more problematic “have I believed fervently enough?,” not without justification. Teresa's experience would not have been easy for Luther to explain, or to handle within his system. I believe that Luther's own existential crises would have given him tremendous sympathy for Teresa. But I do not know how he would have judged her, and I cannot rule out the possibility that he'd have viewed her as condemned for her own lack of faith. I hope that someone who knows Luther's work more fully than I do can point to something that would rule this out.

A Concluding Thought

1 Kings 19:11-12 Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.

Teresa's experience is not unique among contemplatives. We're all familiar with St. John of the Cross's phrase, “the dark night of the soul.” This is what Teresa experienced. I cannot imagine how hard it must have been, yet she never departed from her “call within a call.” And although it would not have eased her pain to hear it, I believe that the LORD was in that sound of sheer silence in her soul.

Peace

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Even When Steeples are Falling...

As many of you know, the ELCA Assembly recently passed a social statement on human sexuality which condones monogamous same-sex relationships, and a separate measure that permits congregations to call pastors who are in monogamous same-sex relationships. It goes without saying that this has been a difficult time for my synod, and we face significant challenges.

The day this happened, a tornado blew the cross down at Central Minneapolis Lutheran, which is across the street from the main assembly, and in which some sessions had been held. Needless to say, this struck many who hold more conservative views on the matter as God having his say on the matter. Perhaps it is. But I was reminded of something else:

Built on the Rock the church doth stand, Even when steeples are falling; Crumbled have spires in e’ry land, Bells still are chiming and calling; Calling the young and old to rest, Calling the souls of men distressed, Longing for life everlasting. Not in our temples made with hands God, the almighty, is dwelling; High in the heav’ns his temple stands, All earthly temples excelling; Yet he who dwells in heav’n above Deigns to abide with us in love, Making our bodies his temple. We are God’s house of living stones, Built for his own habitations; He fills our hearts, his humble thrones, Granting us life and salvation; Were two or three to seek his face, He in their midst would show his grace, Blessings upon them bestowing. Amen.

We believe we are going where God is calling us. I hope you are where God is calling you to be, too.

Peace

Thursday, August 20, 2009

The Beauty of Yellow Jackets

So, I'm walking home from the train, my mind lost in thought, when all of a sudden, I get this electric pain in the back of my left calf. My legs and hands know what it is before my brain does. "Yow!!!" I find myself about 15 feet further down the sidewalk, looking back at a half-dozen or so yellow jackets flying in and out of a nest near where I was struck.

I suppose it's human nature to be angry at the yellow jackets, and certainly I don't appreciate the sting. But they are handsome insects, and the pain is nothing in comparison to value of the message: Be humble, you're not all that there is.

Peace

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Heaven and Earth

My pastor teaches the occasional adult study following a plan that he calls, “I've read this book, so you don't have to.” I usually read them anyway, surprising no-one. His current book is “Simply Christian,” by N. T. Wright. “Simply Christian” is a modern apologetic—a book whose primary purpose to make the case for Christianity to a non-Christian audience, but it's also enjoyable for any Christians who care to read it.

Wright defines heaven as the place where God lives, and earth as the place where man lives. Within the book, he describes three distinct options for explaining the relationship between heaven and earth. Let me outline his options:

Option 1: Pantheism

Pantheism identifies heaven and earth. Everything that is, is of God. This was a common belief in the pagan societies which Judaism encountered, and in some ways is a more fundamental commitment than the polytheism which often flows from it. The problem with pantheism is that it leaves you with the proposition that evil is of God too.

Wright also identifies a slightly less extreme version of this, which he calls panentheism—which holds that that God is present in everything. This weakening does not solve the fundamental problem of the relationship between God and evil.

Option 2: Deism

In deism, heaven and earth are entirely separate. God lives in God's place, and does not encounter, or even think very much, about humans. And we're in our place. We live, we die. The divine lives, but our paths do not cross. Deism was a common response to the enlightenment amongst the educated, even pre-Darwin. Many of the American forefathers were deists.

Option 3: Intersecting Heaven and Earth

The third option, which Wright identifies as the Jewish (and Christian) alternative in which heaven and earth are distinct, but overlapping. He points to the ancient Jewish understanding of the temple as a place where God lived, a specific location where heaven and earth were in contact; and to the Christian belief that our very bodies are temples of God.

My Reactions

There are certainly bits of option 1 present in Christianity, too. When we speak of God as omnipresent, what do we mean, if not option 1? And when we are in an especially receptive spiritual state, we actively perceive God in everything, sharing the experience that inspired our pagan ancestors. So it seems to me that Wright goes a bit too far when he labels option 3 as characteristic of Christianity.

But a couple of nights ago, I saw something that helped me in visualizing option 3 in a different way. Our congregation had an outing to the ballgame—White Sox against the Royals, Buehrle pitching for the good guys. But there was rain predicted for much of the day of the game. It was clear when we got together, and for the drive up to Comiskey (a.k.a., “The Cell”). But the rain came, delaying the start. When we got into the stands, the tarp was covering the infield.

A few minutes before the game started, the ground crew came out (to great applause) and began to roll up the tarp. As they folded the tarp in half, water and air together separated the top and bottom halves. As the ground crew walked across the tarp, the bubbles of air and water were displaced, and points of contact between the upper and lower halves were created, broken, and moved.

It seems to me that heaven and earth are like this. In a state of repose, heaven and earth are in contact everywhere. But sin has roiled our world—metaphorically injecting air and water between the layers, and breaking most points of contact between heaven and earth. God can chose to be in any place, just as the ground-crew can step anywhere and drive the air and water to other places. But he can't be everywhere at once without eliminating sin and its consequences.

I'd also like to emphasize that there is much more to “Simply Christian” than this. If this summarized argument holds any attraction, the book will draw you in.

Peace

Monday, August 10, 2009

So That's That...

The Happy CoupleThe wedding went off on Saturday with hardly a hitch. These are two young people who really belong together, and it was just a heck of a lot of fun.

We were privileged to have the use of the sanctuary at Ascension Lutheran Church (LCMS) of East Lansing, Michigan. Everyone at Ascension was amazingly welcoming and kind, and their church is both beautiful and filled with beautiful art.

The wedding was very traditional, presided over by our former Pastor who is now retired and living in Michigan. This Pastor confirmed our notoriously verbal, honest, and inquisitive daughter, so it was only fair that he had an opportunity to get in an uninterrupted last few words. We celebrated communion, which is unusual but not rare for weddings in the Lutheran Church.

The reception was likewise quite traditional, but did not feel stale. This was due in part to the venue, in part to the DJ, and more than anything else to tone set by the bride and the groom, their maid of honor and best man, and all the bridesmaids and groomsmen. Yes, we did the daddy-daughter dance to “Teach Your Children” by CSN&Y. Thanks again to GM for the suggestion!

There's an old joke in my family, about how in a wedding, you do not lose a daughter, you gain a bathroom. We feel as though we've gained a son, and a new set of wonderful relations from his side.

A curiosity of the Greek language is that there is not a separate word for ‘wedding’ and ‘marriage,’ as the word γάμος does duty for both. If the author wants to emphasize the celebration that marks the official beginning of a marriage, he'll include a form of the word γίνομαι, which has a tremendously long lexical entry which might be summarized by “comes into being by a natural process,” or more simply “be born,” as in the following familiar verse:

John 2:1 Καὶ τῇ ἡμέρᾳ τῇ τρίτῃ γάμος ἐγένετο ἐν Κανὰ τῆς Γαλιλαίας, καὶ ἦν ἡ μήτηρ τοῦ Ἰησοῦ ἐκεῖ·

John 2:1 On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there.

γάμος ἐγένετο· ἁλληλουϊά.

Peace

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Chaos in Life

Our daughter—the bride—lives in Colorado. We live in Illinois. Therefore, naturally, the wedding is in Michigan, three and half hours away. One wedding, three states, three time zones. The groom's family is from Michigan, albeit a mere two and half hours further down the road.

On Tuesday, my wife and the maid of honor drove to the groom's parents for their shower, leaving me with a long list of paraphernalia to bring, everything from the bread she baked for communion at the wedding, to bubbles to chase the bride and groom from the church, to place labels and table favors for the reception. On Wednesday, I drove up the hotel with our son for the wedding, carefully making sure that everything on her list got packed. Check. Leaving my checkbook on my desk at home. Check. Not her fault—I should have had my own list.

So I'm thinking, can I do this without a checkbook? The credit card will get me pretty far, and they do have ATMs in Michigan. I should be o.k., assuming I haven't forgotten any bills that I can't cover on the charge card. My wife suggests that I call my folks, ask if they can bring a couple of checks just in case, and provide an emergency line of credit. I do, getting my Mom, who is well aware of the forgetful streak in our family, and with great good humor, she agrees to provide a backstop. What a relief! [One of her standard lines: Alzheimer's isn't detectable in my family—“they were always like that.”]

This morning, we took off after breakfast to pick up the tuxes. The groom is there with his best man, who's decided to surprise the groom by hijacking him for the day (Tiger's game, casino, etc.). Chaos in his life too. We run a few errands, including checking with the florist, getting the key for the church, etc. While we're at the church, I notice that they only have a few purificators (linen cloths used to wipe the edge of the chalices during communion), and we don't want to short the host congregation. This starts a minor quest for purificators (not something you find at Meijer's), which ends when the nice woman at the Potter's Vessel (a Catholic Church Supply company—they're out) points us to a local fabric store, where we pick up the appropriate raw materials.

While we're at the fabric store, I get a call from Mom. They were delayed flying out of Cincinnati (fuel problems on the connecting flight), and ended up on another flight. Unlike their luggage. So they're at the airport (an hour and half away, naturally), hoping the luggage will be on the next flight in. Maybe they'll be in for dinner, maybe not. Not the first time the luggage has gone AWOL, they know the drill. They'll be o.k.

We get back to our hotel room, to find the bride and her maid of honor crashed out. So my wife is now in the lobby, putting seams in the purificators, and talking to her mother and sister. I'm here quietly blogging, hoping to amuse friends I've never met, while waiting to hear from my folks, and wondering where the next curveball is coming from.

But life is good, and people I love are gathering here to celebrate a new union.

Peace

Update: Their luggage arrived, mysteriously, on the carousel with luggage from a flight from Salt Lake City, and they made it up in time for a (slightly delayed) dinner. The wedding party is off at the bar, and my wife and I spent much of the rest of the evening with my folks, and one of my wife's friends, carefully creasing the place holders along the perforations, and tearing them apart. Good times.

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Unity

GM asked for more translation posts. JA thinks I'm in over my head. Perfect! Let's try another.

Today's lectionary readings included Ephesians 4:1-16, which contains the familiar:

Ephesians 4:4-6 There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.

We looked at this in adult education before service. My pastor commented on the repetition of “one,” and how powerfully this repetition drives home the unity of the Church. This alliteration, by the way, goes back at least as far as Tyndale's “Let ther be but one lorde one fayth one baptim.” So I took a quick look in Nestle-Aland, and here's the Greek:

Ephesians 4:4-6 Ἓν σῶμα καὶ ἓν πνεῦμα, καθὼς καὶ ἐκλήθητε ἐν μιᾷ ἐλπίδι τῆς κλήσεως ὑμῶν· εἷς κύριος, μία πίστις, ἓν βάπτισμα, εἷς θεὸς καὶ πατὴρ πάντων, ὁ ἐπὶ πάντων καὶ διὰ πάντων καὶ ἐν πᾶσιν.

There are a couple of things to notice here. The first is that Nestle-Aland (the Greek Text) sets this as poetry—fair enough. But the second is that the alliteration that is so powerful in the English isn't present in the Greek, because Greek is a declined language, and the form of the irregular adjective εἷς (heis) changes radically depending on the gender of the noun it modifies. In the critical, tight, confessional verse 5, it is εἷς—μία—ἓν, the masculine, feminine, and neuter singular forms respectively of the adjective “one.”

So here is my thought, and I'll grant that it's a stretch. While the alliteration of one—one—one isn't in the Greek, the sequence εἷς—μία—ἓν seems constructed too. And while it is certainly the case that humans love to impose imagined structure on top of randomness, I'm taking the position here that there are no accidents in poetry. Putting each of the genders of Greek in turn, as happens in verse 5, might be an allusion to a deeper union. Three-in-one.

So at this point, the mathematician in me takes over. What is the probability that a passage of three consecutive Greek nouns will hit all three genders? If we assume that each gender is equally likely, it's

3!/33 = 2/9 ≈ 22%.

If we put in the actual distribution of masculine, feminine, and neuter nouns (243, 271, 111 resp.) in Ephesians, the probability estimate drops to 18%. Not compelling, not compelling at all. But suggestive.

My wife argued that the εἷς at the beginning of the 6th verse destroys the argument. Maybe. But I can easily accommodate this, as it looks to me as though the εἷς “closes the circle”: εἷς—μία—ἓν—εἷς. Hmm.

So, would a Greek ear hear this? Here I'll fully grant the justice of JA's disputing of my abilities and pretensions. I have no idea. But I like the thought, nevertheless.

Peace