Homily: Colossians 1:21-22

Colossians 1:21-22
And you, who once were alienated and hostile in mind, doing evil deeds, he has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before him.

Earlier this week a friend reminded me of a quote from Andrew Fletcher, a 17th century Scottish patriot. Fletcher quipped, “If I were permitted to write all the ballads I need not care who makes the laws of the nation.” What Fletcher hints at is something that every poet knows: beautifully written words, especially those in song, can radically shape and influence culture. I witnessed this very thing several years ago while attending a concert in Seattle. I, along with 500-700 others, crammed into a dank club to see Bright Eyes, an indie-folk band fronted by Connor Oberst. Midway through the set, Oberst and company launched into Waste of Paint, a song off their recently released album. Waste of Paint is a narrative describing the elusiveness, and often alienating tendencies, of life. As the song progresses it becomes increasingly sober, ultimately closing with this stanza:

Poetry, no.5

We all feel the riddle of the earth
without anyone to point it out.
The mystery of life is
the plainest part of it.
The clouds and curtains of darkness,
the confounding vapours,
these are the daily weather
of this world.
Whatever else we have grown accustomed to,
we have grown accustomed
to the unaccountable.
Every stone or flower is a hieroglyphic
of which we have lost the key;
With every step of our lives we enter into
the middle of some story
which we are certain
To misunderstand . . .

G.K. Chesterton

Remembering Home

When Adam and Eve were forcibly driven out of Eden they lost more than their innocence, they also lost their home. Going “east of Eden” meant leaving behind what was familiar and entering into exile. “Exile” is not a pleasant word. It entails wandering, restless, and a loss of permanence. A far contrast from “home”, which for many symbolizes security and comfort. And we as human beings intuitively know that home is better than exile. Yet, we are a culture of wanderers. The value of place and of giving oneself to a certain locale is not only foreign to many of us, but is often considered provincial or uncosmopolitan. But as we trade in our “places”–wandering from apartment to apartment, home to home, city to city–I would argue that we also compromise our self-identity. The old adage, “Home is where you hang your hat” is not only naive but overlooks the fact that God uses the material and permanent world to communicate his grace and presence to us. Front porches, garden beds, and old, knotted trees are not incidental to our being human, but constitutive of it. Such things provide us with a material framework for understanding ourselves and the world in which we live.

Sabbath Day Revelries

Another Sabbath evening is coming to a close and I am enjoying the best of God’s good gifts: beer. While in Atlanta this past week I tried a Sint Bernardus Abt 12, which I have to say was one of the tastiest beers I’ve tried in a long, long while. In hopes to recreate this experience I headed down to Whole Foods in hopes  of finding a Bernardus or another Belgian of its ilk. While looking over the selection the beer clerk, who was extremely knowledgeable, suggested I try Ommegang’s Three Philosophers, a Belgian-style Quadrupel. So far I have not been disappointed. The Three Philosophers has a great toasted malt character with a warming alcohol finish. Ending the Lord’s Day with a fine ale makes you feel a little more human, a little more loved by God.

Miscellaneous, no.1

Time is slowing ticking down to the start of another school year. Consequently, I’m trying to tie up the loose ends of my summer, theological excursions. My most recent posts have involved forays into food, eating, and human embodiment. But, these have been merely experimental overtures into what I hope will become a larger project centering on the sacramentality of human life. Investigative reading continues to this end. As always, Chesterton has proved to be my most trusted companion. But Tolkien, Lewis, and Thomas Howard have been increasingly influential as well. I was telling a friend yesterday that the last ten or so books that I’ve read have been by Catholics or Anglo-Catholics. This has not been entirely intentional, but it neverless has proved to be a consistent trend. Simply stated, this imaginative stream is either entirely absent in modern evangelicalism and/or Reformed theology, or it is really well hidden. This notwithstanding I cannot recommend Doug Jones and Doug Wilson’s Angels in the Architecture highly enough. Their desire to recreate a “Medieval Protestantism” is more robust than many of the “Redeem Culture” proposals floating about. Robust because Jones and Wilson are purposefully Trinitarian and sacramental, and place redemption within the bounds of creation, the church, and covenant.

Hopefully, more to come soon.

Meditation: no.4

“In our deepest convictions, reaching into the very depths of our being, we deserve to live forever. We experience our transitoriness and morality as an act of violence perpetuated against us. Only paradise is authentic; the world is inauthentic, and only temporary. That is why the story of the Fall speaks to us so emotionally, as if summoning an old truth from our slumbering memory.”

–Czeslaw Milosz, Milosz’s ABC’s

Poetry, no.4

YHWH’s Image

And YHWH sat in the dust, bone weary after
days of strenuous making, during which He,
now and again, would pause to consider the
way things were shaping up. Time also would
pause upon these strange durations; it would
lean back on its haunches, close its marble
eyes, appear to doze.

But when YHWH Himself finally sat on the
dewy lawn—the first stage of his work all but
finished—He took in a great breath laced with
all lush odors of creation. It made him almost
giddy.

As He exhaled, a sigh and sweet mist spread
out from him, settling over the earth. In that
obscurity, YHWH sat for an appalling interval,
so extreme that even Time opened its eyes, and
once, despite itself, let its tail twitch. Then
YHWH lay back, running His hand over the
damp grasses, and in deep contemplation
reached into the soil, lifting great handsful of
trembling clay to His lips, which parted to
avail another breath.

With this clay He began to coat His shins,
cover His thighs, His chest. He continued this
layering, and, when He had been wholly
interred, He parted the clay at His side, and
retreated from it, leaving the image of Himself
to wander in what remained of that early
morning mist.

–Scott Cairns, from Recovered Body

Meditation, no.5

“Man’s real work is to look at the things of the world and to love them for what they are. That is, after all, what God does, and man was not made in God’s image for nothing. The fruits of his attention can be seen in all the arts, crafts, and sciences. It can cost him time and effort, but it pays handsomely [. . .] But if man’s attention is repaid so handsomely, his inattention costs him dearly. Every time he diagrams something instead of looking at it, every time he regards not what a thing is but what it can be made to mean to him–every time he substitutes a conceit for a fact–he gets grease all over the kitchen of the world. Reality slips away from him; and he is left with nothing but the oldest monstrosity in the world: an idol. Things must be meant for themselves. To take them only for their meaning is to convert them into gods–to make them too important, and therefore to make them unimportant altogether. Idolatry has two faults. It is not a slur on the true God; it is also an insult to true things.”

–Robert Farrar Capon, The Supper of the Lamb: A Culinary Reflection

Excursus, no.3: Four on the Body

I have continued my reading on human embodiment and its sacramental significance, and have found the following four books extremely helpful. I am not going to directly mention Pope John Paul’s A Theology of the Body, even though that is the most logical starting point for any discussion of this sort. John Paul’s meditations are exhaustive–129 altogether–and probably too dense for any lay reader. However, the suggestions that follow, several which are summaries of John Paul’s work, are immediately accessible and, therefore, can be read by almost any one, possibly with the exception of Lee’s Against the Protestant Gnostics.

1.) Christopher West, Theology of the Body for Beginners: A Basic Introduction to Pop John Paul II’s Sexual Revolution

West has made a career of summarizing John Paul’s theology of the body, and here he proves a helpful guide for the beginner. West’s strength is the time he spends in Genesis, unpacking the sacramental nature of the human body. Marriage, sex, and communion amongst persons are treated at length. Very helpful study written in plain language.

2.) Sam Torode, Theology of the Body in Simple Language

This has been perhaps my favorite summary of John Paul II’s theology of the body. Torrode is similar to West, although more terse and poetic.

3.) Lauren Winner, Real Sex

I must admit I was skeptical before picking this volume up. However, Winner is an extremely capable writer and does ethics in the vein of Stanley Hauerwas. Although, Winner’s focus is concentrated on singleness and chastity, her explanation of human embodiment, marriage, and sex as a communal discourse are extremely convincing. Helpful too are her personal and cultural anecdotes.

4.) Philip J. Lee, Against the Protestant Gnostics

I am still in the process of reading Lee, but thus far it has been helpful. Lee traces the Gnosticism through church history into the modern church. Although Lee’s book is not on the body per se, upon reading it one will get the rationale behind why most Protestants are bothered by all things physical, and/or the sacramental nature of creation.

I should note that most anything written by Wendell Berry, G.K. Chesterton, and Alexander Schmemann are also very helpful.

Meditation, no.4

“As a Scot and a Presbyterian, my father believed that man by nature was a mess and had fallen from an original state of grace. Somehow, I early developed the notion that he had done this by falling from a tree. As for my father, I never knew whether he believed God was a mathematician but he certainly believed that God could count and that only by picking up God’s rhythms were we able to regain power and beauty. Unlike many Presbyterians, he often used the word “beautiful.”"

***

“My father was very sure about certain matters pertaining to the universe. To him, all good things–trout as well as eternal salvation–come by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy.”

–Norman Maclean, A River Runs Through It, and Other Stories