Much of this post is plagiarized from something that I wrote in a private forum. The relevant background includes an antebellum history written by a Christian pastor. It is, shall we say, out of the mainstream. From my own admittedly limited knowledge of what it actually says, my preliminary judgment is that it isn’t terribly accurate. But this could change -for instance, I could actually read it. In any event, what follows should not be read as an endorsement or a rejection thereof (for those of you who have figured out what it is). My main point of interest is the immediate and, to my mind, quasi-paranoid rejection of the history’s thesis. But as I thought about it, it seemed that this reaction was most likely the norm when any significantly different historical interpretation entered the arena. And so, prompted by a question on how people might come to an agreement concerning the truth of historical interpretations, I began to think about the nature of history and its relation both to who we are and to who we were intended to be.
History is a matter of interpretation and perspective. This doesn’t mean that anything goes. Interpretations must fit the facts and some statements passing themselves off as historical are clearly non-factual. For instance, I probably couldn’t get away with claiming that President Jackson was a NASCAR enthusiast. When speaking of history, it is important to distinguish between events in the past and the writing of history. A mere compilation of all past events would prove both overwhelming and meaningless. We must limit the number of events that we consider. Even then, if any two people are given a certain time and place from which to compose a chronology of events (we will assume that these events are accurate), their lists will not be identical. Both are true as to their parts, but the perspectives that can be drawn from each will not be the same.
When considering past events, the human mind naturally begins to construct a narrative. What is important and how do these events connect with one another? Sometimes events will be deemed important in themselves and connections made around them. At other times, once connections are started, subsequent events will be included only if they connect. A well written history is an art form. It chooses from various events and weaves these into an interesting story. Even though the fact of past events is purely objective- each one either did or did not happen, there can be no purely objective history. These facts are only comprehensible when they are explained through a subjective lens. Because history is art, it can be beautiful. Because it is subjective, it can be dangerous. A given history is just as likely to enter the public consciousness due to its elegance as due to its coherence. Perhaps even more likely. Truth and beauty are not necessarily the same thing.
Here is the importance of history: who we were determines who we are. But there is darker side to this: who we think we were determines who we think we are. If you’re in the market for power, don’t run for office; instead, write a compelling history. And, if you can settle for less power, there may still be place for you. Once a particular history is generally received, the society will begin to take on a certain shape. A social structure will be created within which exist relative positions of power. Our willingness to question the received history is, unfortunately, connected to the relative advantage it affords us.
The most important suggestion that I can offer for the question of two sides agreeing on what is historically true is that both sides refuse to judge a history based on its consequences. But this often is the first thing that people look at. Rather than asking whether the recorded events of a given history are true and whether omitted events may have significantly altered the narrative, the tendency is to go straight to the pragmatic. When it comes to debates over new views of history, I am afraid that the loudest objections have less to do with the fact that they may not be accurate and more to do with the fact that, if accepted, they would undermine and alter current social policy. This approach lacks both intellectual and Christian integrity.
Our ability as a species to understand ourselves by writing our own history is an indication that we are created in God’s image. He is the supreme author of history and has the only unbiased and exhaustive understanding thereof. We will never be able to reach his level of comprehension. We can, however, see to it that our own understanding of history is not biased by self interest. When a new history is proposed, do not reject or accept it outright. Instead, subject it to a dispassionate examination. Does it fit the known facts? Does it omit relevant facts? If we insert these, how does it change? Is it coherent? If it then fails, reject it. If not, then it needs to be integrated into the received history and the new result adjusted until it is coherent. Should this change the status quo, then so be it.
Keep these two premises in mind: God is the Author of history; and the ability to have a history accepted is a means to power. Because of its subjective and non-exhaustive nature, our understanding of history will never be complete. However, to the best of our ability, it is incumbent upon us that our narrative conforms to God’s. Consequently, to offer for consideration a history that is based on agenda rather than fact, or to fail to accept any history that is offered (for, even if an agenda is proven, it may coincidently be correct) when that failure is based on agenda rather than fact, is to be guilty of two things. 1) It charges God with being a liar by implicitly disagreeing with his narrative; and 2) it constitutes an attempted coup against God’s sovereignty.
This is yet another response that has grown long enough to be its own post. Jared, over at Double Edged has been wondering how some infinite sets can be larger than others. For context, you'll have to go over there and read his post, Infinity Plus One? Among other comments, mine is the one dated May28, 5:52 AM. His response is four down from that.
I believe that Jared is begging the question here. That is, his argument against the idea that infinite sets can be different from one another in the number of elements each contains is a simple assertion to the contrary. Infinity equals infinity. If it is true that infinity equals infinity, then the cardinalities of all infinite sets must be equal. However, if it is the case that not all the cardinalities of infinite sets are equal, then it cannot be the case that infinity always equals infinity.
Go back to the cardinalities of the set of counting numbers and the set of even counting numbers. In any given finite set, no matter how large or small, the cardinality of the even set will always be half that of the evens and odds put together (+ or - 1 depending on where you start and end). When you make both of these sets infinite, though, the ratio changes from 1:2 to 1:1. Suppose now that someone didn't think so. You might say that infinity always equals infinity. He would answer that past experience with all those finite sets demonstrates that for any given set of counting numbers the proper subset of even numbers is always half as much; therefore, there are different kinds of infinities. The intuition on either side is just as strong so, to change his position, you're going to need an argument. This will be found in the fact that it is possible to map the proper subset of even numbers onto the set of all counting numbers in a one to one relatinoship. In other words, the mere notion of infinity is not sufficient to establish the comparitive cardinalities of infinite sets. Another step is needed; namely, whether or not the elements of a given infinite set can be put in a one to one correspondence with the set of all counting numbers.
It is the case that any two sets have the same cardinality iff their elements have a one on one connection. The question now is whether it is always the case that any two infinite sets always have this connection. The answer is that it is not. Once all of the counting numbers have been paired with different numbers from the set of all real numbers, there are still real numbers with no place to go.
As to the objection that adding a number to an infinite set does not increase the cardinality, you're right, it doesn't. But that's not what's happening here. The method that both Chuck and I demonstrated reveals what was there all along but was somehow missed. It adds nothing. Consider again the set of even numbers vs. counting numbers. They have an equal cardinality. If I now include the number 7 with the set of even numbers, the cardinality does not change. I have redifined the set and am able to map this set in its entirety onto the set of counting numbers with nothing left over on either side. This is not the case when considering the set of all real numbers. Here, there is no redefinition of the set.
If I had defined the set as "all real numbers except .3582000..." and then later added this number to the set, this would constitute a redefinition of the set. The cardinality thereof would not change. And it would tell me nothing about the comparitive cardinalities between this set and the set of all counting numbers. However, if I define the set as "all real numbers without exception" and then map these onto the set of counting numbers, then the only numbers that I can add to the set are imaginary, such as the square root of negative one. If I did this, the cardinality of the redefined set would not change. On the other hand, if, after pairing each number in the set of all counting numbers with a unique number in the set of all real numbers, I am able to construct a real number that is not already paired to a counting number, I must conclude that the cardinality of the set of all real numbers is larger than the cardinality of the set of all counting numbers. I have added nothing to the set nor have I redefined it. Instead, I have discovered a number that, though in the set all along, managed to escape being mapped onto the counting numbers. It follows, by definition, that this number is left over. "Left over" in this context, has nothing to do with adding anything to an infinite set. Such an addition would have no effect on the cardinality. It simply means that, unlike other infinite sets, not all elements in the set of real numbers can be put in a unique pair with each of the elements in the set of counting numbers.
This is from a comment on a post that I happened to read yesterday, "We don't have any business 'working with' and 'caring for' people who claim to be in Christ and claim that God is not bothered by their sinfulness. We are instructed to excommunicate them from our fellowship and inform them that God will be merciful to them and forgive them should they ever repent and desire to once again be in Christ."
You may know where this is from and who it's about; if not, the exact information is irrelevant. Here's what is: the peson in question professes Christ and has admitted to being gay. Supposedly, he made the claim that God is not bothered by this. Personally, I'm not so sure from what I read that this was the case. But, let's give the commenter the benefit of the doubt and say that this claim was made. Are these dual claims, made by a Christian, sufficient cause to say of him, "Do not work with him; do not care for him"?
Earlier, the same commenter had written, "But we are instructed BY GOD not to associate with people who claim Christ and at the same time confess their complete lack of desire to repent of their sin." Really? First, I wonder just how one infers confessing a "complete lack of desire to repent of their sin" from a statement to the effect that God is not bothered by it. Furthermore, if such a desire has been expressed, does it need to denote a final state? May it not rather be the cry of the moment, something, which itself, will be given up in repentance? Part of the problem is that repentance, and therefore, nonrepentance, are conceived of as singular acts of the will producing lasting and demonstrable results. "Repent." "No." "Get out." This is wrong. Nonrepentance should never be determined absent an extended period of active compassion. It should not be determined by someone who is not involved in the situation. No matter how hardened a believer may appear on the outside, we cannot know what the Holy Spirit is doing to his insides.
Then there is the matter of this divine instruction. The immediate text is found in I Corinthians 5:11-13, "But now I am writing to you not to associate with anyone who bears the name of brother if he is guilty of sexual immorality or greed, or is an idolater, reviler, drunkard, or swindler--not even to eat with such a one. For what have I to do with judging outsiders? Is it not those inside the church whom you are to judge? God judges those outside. Purge the evil person from among you." It does look drastic, but does it require the hard line approach of the commenter? Perhaps, on a first reading of the context. Paul has just instructed the Corinthians to excommunicate a sexually immoral man. He then makes this statement and follows it up in chapter 6:9,10 by saying that "neither the sexually immoral, nor idolators, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, not thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God."
That seems to settle the matter, but here's what must be the case if it does. There was a single case of sexual immorality at Corinth, which Paul delt with decisively. He then gives a list of sins that must also be addressed in the same manner. Of course, no one else in the Corinthian church was anything like this. Greedy, revilers, swindlers- who could think such a thing? In fact, they could look back on their life before conversion and see what they used to be like. Thank God for present day sinless perfectionism. Right. These same Corinthians, whom Paul has just scolded for taking each other to court, saying, "But you yourselves wrong and defraud--even your own brothers!" He follows his list of who won't make it into heaven with reasons to stop being sexually immoral: it joins members of Christ to a prostitute. In both types of sin, the body of Christ is divided. The Corinthians are doing both and both need to stop.
We need to reexamine what it means to be guilty of these sins, or any sin. If guilt is simply equated with doing them, then the Corinthian church either had good reason to boast, or, as far as eternity, they ended up being a lost cause. No, guilt is more than mere action; it has to do with our standing, or lack thereof, in Christ. There is a significant difference between the level of sin that required excommunication at the beginning of chapter 5 and that practiced by the average Corinthian. Paul writes in 5:10, "I wrote to you in my letter not to associate with sexually immoral people--not at all meaning the sexually immoral of this world, or the greedy and swindlers, or idolaters, since then you would need to go out of the world." These practices permeated the Corinthian culture, including those who were in the Corinthian church. The earlier sin was "of a kind that is not tolerated even among pagans." The idea, of course, is not that the church should set its standards according to the world, but that the sin in question went beyond the restraints of common grace. And both the sinner and the church were being complacent about it.
Imagine the Corinthians conviction as they read Paul's letter. "Do not associate with these kinds of people." "But I'm that kind of people." "These will not inherit the kingdom of God." "I do these things and am powerless to stop." We have no more reason to hope than the Corinthians did. Which is what makes Paul's next sentence one the sweetest expressions of grace there is. "And such were some of you." We who constantly give in to vile habits and inclinations are not defined by these. Instead, we were washed, sanctified, and justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God. We are not guilty of that which we do for Christ has accepted us.
Does this then mean that antinomianism and nonrepentance are appropriate? Not at all. Remember, Paul is rebuking the Corinthians for these sins. Repentance is required. But repentance is no more a once and for all act than our salvation is immediate glorification as a result of some sinners' prayer. We can't give people a few chances to get it right and then just figure they don't really mean it. "How often should I forgive, Lord-seven times?" Repentance should not be determined when, for all appearances, someone remains in sin. If you do not know someone, then how can you tell the difference between a steady stream of casual sin and frequent reoccurences of the same sin that are puncuated by anguished pleas for divine forgiveness? Repentance, not freedom from sin, is what defines the Christian life on earth.
The Corinthians were in union with Christ and were called to live in that fellowship, even though their habits included getting drunk, stealing, adultery, and the like. This fellowship, showing itself in mutual love and compassion, was even to be shown towards those of their number who kept committing homosexual acts. It wasn't just a matter of tolerating an orientation.
Paul brought them into dispair over their sin and then told them who they were in Christ. The response to such grace is not apathy. It is, "Yes, I am holy in Christ, but look at what my sin is doing to Christ." Repentance is the constant response of those souls who, realizing what they have done to their Lord yet again, rush to him for mercy. It is that deep sorrow for breaking up the body of Christ. Forgiveness and love are when Christ, knowing our weakness- our inability to stop sinning, says, "Here is my broken body; take and eat."
This essay required talking about a "critical incident." Some of you may recognize it from an earlier post.
Duane hit me in the back of the head with a soup can. He was at least four years older than me and somewhat larger. I’m guessing at the age difference because he was in the next class up from me in a two-room schoolhouse. Normally, he treated me fairly decently, which was whenever his friends weren’t around.
My father had built us a swing set from some of the logs that he had chopped down for firewood over the winter. Duane liked to come over and use it. But when the others came over, he would throw the swing around the top so that it was too high to reach. I reacted by quoting the first and only verse of scripture that came to mind. “Ye are of your father the devil,” was not an optimal choice.
I’m now supposed to identify the cross-cultural skill involved. This is not easy. If the question is of the various cultures in which I have lived, being too cross-cultural somehow makes the term lose its meaning. What is the difference between a cross-cultural skill and just a plain old skill? In this case, I cried and went back into the house, never wishing to see Duane again.
Perhaps, however, a cross-cultural skill involves something entirely different from how a home culture reacts to a host culture. Maybe it is a way to move beyond cultural relativity by recognizing something transcendent. Our entire purpose in living among these various cultures was to present the gospel to them. We were bringing them a culture from which their value system could be judged. We had no desire to Americanize them, but we did want the salvation of individuals to be the transformation of their own culture. And so, at the suggestion of my mother, I began exercising a cross-cultural skill that would have been appropriate in any of the cultures I have lived in. I prayed for Duane. He was our only Athabascan convert (1.25% of the population).
What would I do differently the next time? It’s hard to tell. It’s not likely that there could be a next time. This may also point to the unfairness of using this as an example: I was awfully young at the time. I think I acted appropriately for my age. What did I learn from the event? Perhaps that the same skill could be used in other situations. This time, however, I would be older and able to do more than just pray. I also had a wider range of scripture at my command.
Now I was in a situation that couldn’t be limited to a single event; however, it would involve using the same cross-cultural skill that I used in the situation with Duane. While living in Washington, I somehow managed to get involved with several foster-boys. There was a family we knew who had been missionaries to Canada, and, upon retiring from the field, decided to become foster parents. It all started when they witnessed to a teenage boy who was in their home and asking about their faith. He became a Christian, his father was furious, and they nearly lost their license.
And then it occurred to everyone that I didn’t have a license to lose. I could come into their house and say anything I wanted to and the state could do nothing about it. And so I did. Many of these boys came from family situations that constituted a completely different cultural situation than that in the rest of the state. I believe that this is where having moved around among several different cultures helped.
I was able to adapt to their particular situation and communicate on their level. One, in particular, stands out. I tried as much as possible to encourage him in things that were strange to me but that he enjoyed. Hence the expansion of my musical knowledge from classical to grunge (believe me, differing musical tastes can be very cross-cultural). There were other aspects of his cultural upbringing that were not all right, so I judged them. He had been raised by liars, had always lived around them, and was one himself. I constantly caught him in lies and finally told him that I would refuse to believe anything he said until he consistently proved that he could tell the truth.
But this wasn’t all. I wanted to demonstrate a transcendent culture to him. I simply kept my word concerning anything I told him I would do. He liked to talk, so I would schedule Saturdays to spend the day with him and discuss anything that was on his mind. I tried as much as possible to accept him while at the same time rejecting sinful behavior. Could I have done some things differently? Most likely. Did my actions make a visible difference? This is beside the point. What matters is that I was able to use “cross-cultural” skills to provide a tangible demonstration of the gospel.
Conclusion
How am I supposed to answer the questions here? Every one of them assumes that I had always existed in a sequestered home culture when, all of sudden, I intentionally engaged another culture and became a wiser person for it. I don’t think I’ve ever tried to “engage another culture as fully as possible in a specified amount of time.” I never tried to be “deep and meaningful.” Somehow, it always seemed sufficient just to adapt to whatever cultural situation I was in at the time. It may be that I have a somewhat unique vantage point, but I do find the amount of cultural angst that I see in many Reformed circles to be strangely and pathetically amusing. I grew up immersed in this cross-cultural experience that everyone seems to want, yet I fail to see where it makes me any better.
I also find it hard to believe that a short-term visit to a different culture can make that much of a difference in perspective. This kind of thing really requires living there. Personally, I think that one of the best ways to be able to understand one’s own culture and to be able to adapt to others is to study them in light of the transcendent culture of the church, especially in its role as universal and transcending all cultural boundaries.
I can’t really make the before and after comparisons of how this experience has changed my life: I think I’m still in the ever present “during.” What would I do differently if I had it to do all over again? I don’t know. Is there anything about my life that I could change while still retaining my identity?
These are the parameters for this essay:
"What are the differences between your culture of origin and your host culture? Do these differences match your pre-departure expectation? Discuss the divergence in patterns of thinking, communication, problem solving, perception, and concept of time."
Like I mentioned before, I’m hard pressed to tell which is which. However, there are differences among them so I should be able to say something. It will probably be easiest to divide them into two categories: American and other. The two Alaskan cultures, even though technically in the US, will count as the latter.
American culture is entirely too stressed out. Everything has to be done right now; however, for most things, if you stand back and think about them, they’re really not that important. I think part of the problem might be the rampant individualism. Americans seem to be incapable of grasping the big picture. Instead, it’s more about self promotion achieved by the stomping on of others. I sometimes wonder if there’s something about the idea of identifying one’s self in terms of a community that may disqualify this from being a legitimate culture. Does an aggregate of egos count?
And then there’s the opposite extreme found in Southern Brazil. We had just moved down there over Christmas break from the Amazon Jungle. In that region, I had been going to an English speaking school in the city of Belem. We had six-week Christmas vacations, but this time, it got extended just a bit more.
When we arrived in Barretos, we found that there were no similar schools in the area. And because our parents wouldn’t send us away to a boarding school, they opted for a correspondence course, which was to be mailed from the States. We waited…
In the mean time, we found a house to live in that was across the street from the church in which we would be working. The property was surrounded by a wall, as most others were. If someone came to visit, they would not knock (they wouldn’t just come in either). Instead, they would stand outside of the gate on the sidewalk and clap. […and waited..] Sometimes they would opt to use the doorbell. But, when they did, we had to make it a point not to answer right away. The reason that they normally stood outside and clapped was that it was considered impolite to enter walled in property. However, the doorbell was situated where most doorbells are-next to the door (some houses had them outside the gate, but this often led to run-by ringings). The trick then was to allow them enough time to get back outside of the gate and stand there as though they had never entered the yard.
There was another missionary family, the Wood’s, living in the same town who had a son in the same grade that I was. We had decided that he would do just as well to take the correspondence course with me. His mother would then teach my youngest sister. So the expected package included books for him as well.
Besides the church across the street, we also spent Sundays working in two churches in Colina, a town about 20 minutes from Barretos. A lot of the communication problems came there, in the language itself. While my sisters and I picked it up fairly easily, my parents had a harder time. Hence, we had church services with teachings along the line that the Wise Men came to worship the naked Jesus (substituting the English new, which sounds like the Portuguese nu, for the Portuguese novo), Christ is our avocado (mispronouncing adivogado, which means advocate. Only those who spoke English caught this one), and we are gathered together to wash God (lavar-to wash, instead of louvar-to praise).
Sometimes the right word was used but we were unaware of the idioms. I once told an older gentleman that, if he were going to continue to talk to me, he would have to stop using so much profanity. He wasn’t doing this, of course: the words were simply larger words that I hadn’t learned yet. So I told him that I didn’t understand all the big words-palavraos, which, of course, meant that he was swearing at me.
Mrs. Wood went to the post office one day to mail something. The clerk looked at her and said, “Voce e Americana?” “Sim,” she answered. And, because she was an American, he gave her a box from the States that had been sitting there for two or three months. Christmas break was over in early June.
This essay was written in response to the question, "How would you describe your “multicultural personality in terms of attitudes and character traits? How do you think your “multicultural personality” was be [sic] affected by your intercultural experience?"
I haven’t actually been able to identify my culture of origin. Several options present themselves. Technically, I suppose, it would be Holland before 1645. Or perhaps it’s the Pacific Northwest-my birth place and where my family now lives. It could be that from which I have my first memories-Alaskan Eskimo. Maybe it’s the one that sent us out as missionaries and to which we periodically returned-Michigan Suburbia. It might also be the one in which I felt most comfortable-Southern Brazil. There’s probably something in all the cultures I’ve lived in that might make them qualify.
On the other hand, they’ve all seemed just a bit foreign. Even the first one that I remember. I just might have been fooled into thinking that I belonged there but for one minor detail: I was white. The natives made sure that I knew it. But then I’ve lived in other cultures where I was visibly different and it proved to be somewhat of a benefit.
I’ve always had a fairly easy time adapting to different cultures; however, I’ve never been able to do so completely. It’s been my observation that sometimes looking different will cause people to be more accommodating. In the Brazilian cultures I lived in, they knew that I was a foreigner (of course, my accent probably gave that away too); consequently, I was not expected to know all of the intricacies of their society in order to be accepted. The various kinds of American culture are different; I’ve lived away from it and for just long enough a time that I've never actually felt like a part of it. There are just enough subtleties that I don’t get and, because of this, just enough opportunities for miscommunication.
The perfunctory text isn’t much of a help. It speaks of “attitudes and character traits that promote cultural learning.” But the whole thing seems to be addressed to people from a single culture who are about to embark on a new adventure. This, however, is a perspective that I cannot relate to. I’ve been culturally crossed all my life. To the same extent that many people may find their home culture to be second nature, I find the same thing to be true moving between cultures. It’s not something I really think about.
Hess writes concerning regard for culture, “The person with a low regard for culture perceives cultural differences as a social handicap to be gotten rid of” (Hess, 14). I must not fit in this category. I would no sooner think this than I would imagine that personal differences were a social handicap to be gotten rid of. I may occasionally be annoyed at the specifics, but I see the differences themselves among people as a strength. I tend to focus on and accept the similarities within a culture rather than worrying about the differences between them.
Another interesting question is, “Do you want, during your travels, to remain stable and fixed, preserving what now is, or do you want to be changed by the experience?” (Hess, 15). I’m not exactly sure how to take this. For me, being changed over time through various cultures was what actually constituted stability. The change that I had the hardest time dealing with was when we finally settled down in one place.
I looked over the list of character traits for a successful cultural learner and find that I have most of them. It’s hard to tell though whether these are natural, that is, whether I would have had them anyway, or whether my experiences produced them. I will agree that they are important to have for anyone that is going to be able to move between cultures.
Some of the traits seem to present false dichotomies. For instance, “curious rather than passive” (Hess, 19). I think I’m both. Some of these traits seem to change depending on the specific culture. I tend to be much more guarded in American culture, which, even though by now I’ve been in it longer, is still the most foreign. I’m ready to move again. I don’t know-Bangladesh sounds promising.
A graduation requirement for Covenant is that one visit another culture and then write a series of essays about it. Since I grew up as an MK, I didn't actually have to go anywhere but was able to write the non-sponsored version. I'm not sure if there are any differences in the formats. The paper required reading a book entitled, Studying Abroad/Learning Abroad, by J. Daniel Hess. The cultures I listed having lived in are as follows:
Alaskan Urban
Amazon Jungle
Athabascan Indian
Dade County Kuyperian Subculture
Eskimo
Michigan Suburbia
Pacific Northwest
Southern Brazilian
Texan
The Introduction is here; the individual essays will follow in separate posts.
The cultures I have lived in have been as extreme as their geographical distance from one another. Returning to Michigan between them was probably a key factor in not really experiencing too much culture shock, which might have been the case had I gone straight from Alaskan winters with three hours of daylight and temperatures approaching 70 below to the jungles of the Amazon during rainy season, where the water would come down in sheets and immediately turn into steam. And yes, I think that geography and climactic conditions have a lot to do with the culture and personality of the people.
The Alaskan cultures were very reserved. People did socialize, but it didn’t really have to take the form of talking to each other. A typical visit to our home, this especially with the Eskimos, went something like this: someone would just walk into our house-they never knocked. If necessary, we would do whatever it took to get them warm (there was occasional danger of frostbite). Once this had happened, they would just sit there. We would just sit there. After an hour or two, they would say, “Bye,” and walk out. I like this approach.
I probably related better to the Athabascans. Theirs seemed to be a culture in transition. I never noticed then, but as I look back on it, there seemed to be a fairly large generation gap. A tribal society was gradually becoming Americanized. There was a strange mixture of respect for customs and the wisdom of the elders with a rather selfish mix of drunkenness and individualism. I preferred it the way it had been.
I recall that there was a married couple that I often liked to visit in the summers. Their names were Billy and Jessie. I would sometimes help her with various things around the house and yard. Since she was only in her mid-eighties, she was young enough to keep busy. Billy would sit in a rocking chair inside. I used to sit and listen to him tell stories. I can’t remember any of them, but I do recall being interested. They were usually about his life and there were plenty of them-when I met him, he had just turned 102.
The Brazilian people are a lot more friendly and outgoing and, consequently, harder to get to know one on one. Most of the interaction takes place in the market place; literally. The day of the average Brazilian woman (unless she were at least middle class, but this was considerably above average) was spent going to the market to buy enough food to prepare for that day. And since it wasn’t in the convenient pre-packaged portions that we are so used to, it would take much longer to get ready. This daily work had to include Sundays and so we rarely had anyone but children in our morning services.
But there was also a sense in which Brazilian culture, much like that in Alaska, was fairly laid back. Both of them were event oriented rather than time oriented. Punctuality just wasn’t that big a deal.
It’s hard to find a stopping point. I could go on and on here describing the various cultures I’ve been in but I think I’ve said enough to provide a feel for the diversity among them.
Anyone who has ever gone to Covenant College will be familiar with the program of integrating faith and learning. In many classes, this was natural. At other times, it felt forced. First semester PE, in my opinion, was one of these. The final exam consisted of writing a short essay that made use of various Bible verses that considered the topic of physical fitness. I was, and still am, of the opinion that this could not be done without imposing a serious injustice on whatever verses might have been chosen. But there was no way around it so I complied. I recently found the rough draft on an old floppy disk...
In Leviticus, the entire eleventh chapter is dedicated to clean and unclean foods. Surely if God would spend that much time on the subject, then he must be concerned about our fitness. His concern even extends to specific aspects of our nutrition. Leviticus 7:23 says, “Do not eat any of the fat of cattle, sheep or goats.” Only later did science discover why: this kind of fat is saturated.
In Daniel 1:11-16, Daniel and his friends insist on a diet of vegetables and water; they end up healthier. We too should follow his example and be strict vegetarians. Like the song says, “Dare to be a Daniel.” In contradiction to this, Exodus 12:9 tells us the correct way to prepare meat - roasted, not boiled. This tension is resolved when Jesus repeals the dietary laws, but only for those who can maintain their health and stay regular. Mark 7:19, “For it doesn’t go into his heart but into his stomach, and then out of his body. (In saying this, Jesus declared all foods ‘clean.’)” All other people would be well advised to use their Christian liberty to follow God’s dietary plan as outlined in his word.
It is well-known that people who eat at home before going out to eat will eat less at the restaurant. I Corinthians 11:34 substantiates this, “If anyone is hungry, he should eat at home, so that when you meet together it may not result in judgment.” This judgment is spelled out in Proverbs 23:2, “and put a knife to your throat if you are given to gluttony.” There would be far fewer overweight people if only this Biblical command were followed. God takes the seven deadly sins very seriously.
A final word on serving guests. II Kings 6:28,29 relates this story, “This woman said to me, ‘Give up your son so that we may eat him today, and tomorrow we’ll eat my son.’ So we cooked my son and ate him. The next day I said to her, ‘ Give up your son so we may eat him,’ but she has hidden him.” We later discover that the king is upset about this, which forces us to ask ourselves why. It was a matter of table etiquette. If we ever serve a meal, it is bad form, and not very Christian of us, to do so expecting one in return. After all, what did Jesus do after feeding the 5000?
Or we could suppose that the Bible was never meant to be read as a collection of proof texts on fitness and diet. Not only is subjective interpretation too easy, but, invariably, the focus is turned on us and away from the God who has created people in his image and has pronounced them good. As evidenced by the final resurrection, those people whose souls he has redeemed will also have their bodies redeemed. Our attitudes toward our bodies are to be informed by the value that God has placed on them.
Incidentally, Acts 27:34 teaches that people who eat won’t go bald.
It wasn't cold enough.
My first year in school had been successful. We lived about a mile outside of the village and I walked the distance back and forth every weekday. There were two ways of going about this: one through an open field and the other on a path high above the river bank. I preferred the second option, but this was only available until the snow had piled up enough to make things too slippery (we averaged seven feet a year). There was one house along the way. In typical Alaskan fashion, the owners kept a team of dogs on their property. These were fairly large dogs, being the kind used for dog sleds. I was relatively small, still, I was never able to sneak past the house without incident. Not that I wanted to. The dogs, upon noticing me, enjoyed barking and then charging full speed in my direction. I enjoyed watching their eyes bulge as their chains suddenly took effect.
During the rest of the year I had to walk through the field. For most of that time there wasn't all that much to see; or, to put it more accurately, there was less that I could see. It was dark in both directions. The sun wouldn't commit to an appearance until about 10:30. And by 1:30 it was all over. For just under three hours, by looking due south over the tundra, one could debate on whether or not the sun was rising or setting. In my morbider moods, I would imagine that it had been sentenced to death by drowning and was gasping for its last breath. Our teacher would make it a point to coordinate our breaks with what ever daylight there was. We grew less appreciative as the year went on.
Each day required more layers. Eventually, it would get to the point where I would have to wear four or five pairs each of socks and long johns and just as many T-shirts. These were topped with a regular button up shirt under two or three sweaters. I would also wear up to three pairs of pants at a time. This was topped with a scarf, a snow suit and some masks, several mittens, and a parka. The other students were much the same. The trick was to wear our clothes in such a manner that we could shed layers inside while still presenting some appearance of modesty. While it may have saved time to wear more long johns and fewer pants, it was not conducive to the educational environment for all the students to be learning in their underwear. The time it took to get dressed would eventually surpass the time that we could actually spend outside. At first, we would wait until our teacher told us to come back inside. Even then, we were reluctant, occasionally rebellious. Sunlight was, after all, a luxury. Eventually though, when further layering had become impracticable, the cold would start to win. It began with cheerful obedience at being called back indoors. It ended by just not going out in the first place. Being outside to get to and from school was bad enough. The sun provided a poor excuse to try it a third time each day.
And so during the winter, I would walk through the field in the dark. This path took me by a cluster of three houses. They also, in typical Alaskan fashion, kept a team of dogs on their property. These dogs always left me alone. It wasn't that they liked me any more than the other dogs, it was just too cold for them not to stay huddled together.
The days got longer and warmer. Spring came, enough snow melted, and I was able to resume walking above the river bank. And then school was over. Just when it got pleasant enough to do so, my daily trip was no longer necessary.
One evening, while sitting at the kitchen table, I looked out the window at the river and casually mentioned how interesting it was that large chunks of ice were flowing upstream. My parents weren't taking it quite as well. The next morning, we got in a boat and made our way to the school building across the open field. Our only means of locomotion was to pull ourselves along the willows. The oars and motor had been early flood victims. Things got a lot easier after my mother noticed that my sister and I, who were sitting in the back of the boat, were trying to help by pulling in the wrong direction. My father sent the family to Michigan until the worst of the flood was over. When we got back, the inside of the house was covered with mud. A few hapless salmon had made the mistake of venturing into our basement. The treetops were decorated with various pieces of furniture.
September came along with the new school year. I decided to take my preferred path above the river bank. Things looked different. It wasn't until I had to jump out of the way of the charging dogs that I realized a lot of the ground had been washed away in the flood. The chains were just as long but the path had moved. It was too late to take the other path but I was able to stay just out of their reach. Still, I would have chosen to miss the experience.
As I was saying, it wasn't cold enough. The only reason that the dogs in the houses by the open field didn't bother me was because they were too cold. They weren't nearly as nice in September. Nor were they chained. And so, after my first day of second grade, when all the other children had gone home, I heard my new teacher, who was looking out the window, ask, "Kevin, why are you just sitting there in the wheelbarrow?"
"I like sitting in the wheelbarrow." Finding it most necessary to impress my new teacher, I couldn't admit to being scared of "the bitey dogs." But I could only feign a predilection for wheelbarrows for so long. I'm not sure who would have won our battle of wills if I had not come up with an ingenious plan for getting past the dogs. I jumped out of the wheelbarrow, waved good-bye, and preceded along the riverbank path where the dogs were chained.
When I got to the point where I could not avoid attracting their attention, I turned sidewise, hands down at my side, faced them head on and began singing:
"Joy to the world, the Lord is come..."
They started to bark and began charging, but I stood my ground.
"Let earth receive her king..."
They stopped running but continued barking and howling.
"No more let sin and sorrows grow..."
Now they were just standing there whimpering . By the time the world was being ruled with truth and grace every last dog was sitting down and staring at me in absolute silence. I had achieved my own personal millennium. The wild beasts had been pacified and I was able to walk away while they sat perfectly still. I didn't have to give any more recitals because the dogs never bothered me again.
I had only seen a group of dogs hold that still one other time. It was earlier in the same year before school had let out. The days had gotten long enough for there to be light on the way home, but it was still cold. One of my friends wanted me to come over and see the litter of puppies that had been born a few weeks earlier. He also mentioned how clean they were. When we got to his house, the mother dog seemed a bit dazed. Her puppies, all in playful poses, were scattered around the yard. My friend had given them a bath that morning and left them in the house. After he had gone to school, his father, not being convinced that house dogs were such a good idea, put them outside. It only took a matter of seconds but they all froze solid before having a chance to realize that anything was wrong.
Serenely sitting sipping sodas, seventy sinister savages said, "Sooth, Sir Samson, shall she surely sleep so soundly, snoring so? Shouldn't someone, shrill sounds screaming, stop such selfish slumberings? Supper's slowly seeping savor, shan't she serve some somewhat soon? Studies show such sluggish service soon shall see some stomachs svelt. Soon surrounding such subordinates, skinny shapes shall skeletal seem. Shall such stigmas stick so strongly? Shall she see some stultified, sallow, sunken, sapless, shrivelled, salivating, smelling sop? Surely sir, such stupefaction shan't successive strokes subjoin?"
Said Sir Samson, "Stop such sayings, scanty, scabious scalawags. Something slightly saponaceous seriously sinister savages scrubbing soon shall see some soundly sleeping servant serve some salted soup."
Seventy scoured scholars slurping soup slurp such sardonically- saddened so since such satiety seems somehow somniferous.
Perhaps because it seems to be so universally experienced, the concept of friendship is difficult to pin down. The problem seems to lie in the fact that many things, which look like friendship, are not. Epictetus points this out in chapter 22 of The Discourses:
Well then, did you never see little dogs caressing and playing with one another, so that you might say there is nothing more friendly? but, that you may know what friendship is, throw a bit of flesh among them, and you will learn. Throw between yourself and your son a little estate, and you will know how soon he will wish to bury you and how soon you wish your son to die.
He goes on to explain:
For universally, be not deceived, every animal is attached to nothing so much as to its own interest. Whatever then appears to it an impediment to this interest, whether this be a brother, or a father, or a child, or beloved, or lover, it hates, spurns, curses: for its nature is to love nothing so much as its own interest; this is father, and brother and kinsman, and country, and God.
Epictetus is less cynical than he may appear, nor does he consider men merely to be animals. He does believe that there is something that sets men apart from the animals; something over which they have control and which can make for solid friendships. This is the will.
But examine, not what other men examine, if they are born of the same parents and brought up together, and under the same pedagogue; but examine this only, wherein they place their interest, whether in externals or in the will. If in externals, do not name them friends, no more than name them trustworthy or constant, or brave or free: do not name them even men, if you have any judgment... But if you hear that in truth these men think the good to be only there, where will is, and where there is a right use of appearances, no longer trouble yourself whether they are father or son, or brothers, or have associated a long time and are companions, but when you have ascertained this only, confidently declare that they are friends, as you declare that they are faithful, that they are just.
Externals can change and, with them, that which is based on these externals. However, the will is constant. Epictetus had taken the discussion of friendship out of mere description and placed the responsibility squarely on the one who would be a friend. Unfortunately, he did this at the expense of sterilizing friendship.
Socrates had tried to determine what friendship is in Plato's Lysis. When the dialogue gets to the main topic we find Socrates asking, "When one loves another, is the lover or the beloved the friend; or may either be the friend?" When an answer of either one is given, Socrates poses the situation of a man who loves without being loved in return. When it is agreed that this situation is possible, he sets up the first problem.
Then which is the friend of which? Is the lover the friend of the beloved, whether he be loved in return, or hated; or is the beloved the friend; or is there no friendship at all on either side, unless they both love one another?
It looks like some rather clever equivocation. After more of the same, Socrates reaches this conclusion:
If neither the beloved, nor the lover, nor the like, nor the unlike, nor the good, nor the congenial, nor any other of whom we spoke-for there were such a number of them that I cannot remember all-if none of these are friends, I know not what remains to be said.... O Menexenus and Lysis, how ridiculous that you two boys, and I, an old boy, who would fain be one of you, should imagine ourselves to be friends-this is what the by-standers will go away and say-and as yet we have not been able to discover what is a friend!
Perhaps Aristotle noticed the sophistry and did not agree that the conclusion was quite so hard to come by. He gives a more substantial argument in Book
VIII of his Nicomachaen Ethics.
Aristotle starts with the assumption that friendship must be mutual. He then differentiates three kinds of friendships based on the three kinds of love that can be mutual. The first two of these are based on what the lover can get out of the relationship. They are utility and pleasure. These cease as soon as the other party stops being useful or pleasurable. The useful changes more often. It can be descriptive, perhaps, of business acquaintances. These friends do not necessarily need to like each other. They are simply useful for the business at hand at that particular time.
The friendship of pleasure is perhaps more enduring. This friendship is dependent on emotion. For this reason, according to Aristotle, it seems to be common among young people. Yet, for this same reason, it is also subject to change, for the tastes of those who are maturing are likewise subject to change.
Aristotle saves perfect friendship for two men who are good. These men both love the good in the other and they love because they themselves are good. Because goodness is enduring, so are such friendships. According to Aristotle, these kinds of friendships do not come easily:
But it is natural that such friendships should be infrequent; for such men are rare. Further, such friendship requires time and familiarity; as the proverb says, men cannot know each other till they have 'eaten salt together'; nor can they admit each other to friendship or be friends till each has been found lovable and been trusted by each. Those who quickly show the marks of friendship to each other wish to be friends, but are not friends unless they both are lovable and know the fact; for a wish for friendship may arise quickly, but friendship does not.
Aristotle goes on to note that the two lesser kinds of friendship can resemble this perfect kind. Friendships based on the good are also both pleasant and useful. However, this kind of friendship is only possible when both men are good. Two bad men, or a bad and a good man may have friendships based on utility or pleasure. After reaching this conclusion, Aristotle moves toward a definition of friendship, which, in turn, leads to further qualifications:
Now it looks as if love were a feeling, friendship a state of character; for love may be felt just as much towards lifeless things, but mutual love involves choice and choice springs from a state of character; and men wish well to those whom they love, for their sake, not as a result of feeling but as a result of a state of character. And in loving a friend men love what is good for themselves; for the good man in becoming a friend becomes a good to his friend. Each, then, both loves what is good for himself, and makes an equal return in goodwill and in pleasantness; for friendship is said to be equality, and both of these are found most in the friendship of the good.
Equality is seen to be an important factor in friendship. Utility friendships last only as long as both parties are equally useful, for as soon as there is an inequity, the one receiving less for what he has put into it leaves. The same goes for friendships of pleasure. It would seem that Aristotle is wrong at this point. Since it is not possible to compare the subjective states of utility or pleasure between two individuals, then it would only be when one of them notices a change for the worse in the friendship that it would end. However, such a critique fails to take into account that Aristotle defines friendship as entailing a mutual love.
Almost. Aristotle then goes on to describe a different kind of friendship- that of unequals. Such is the case of father and son, elder and younger, husband and wife, master and servant. He is solves the apparent incongruity of this new kind like this:
In all friendships implying inequality the love also should be proportional, i.e. the better should be more loved than he loves, and so should the more useful, and similarly in each of the other cases; for when the love is in proportion to the merit of the parties, then in a sense arises equality, which is certainly held to be characteristic of friendship.
Such friendships, however, can only be unequal up to a point. If the distance becomes too great, the friendship cannnt be maintained. Aristotle goes on to write of the importance of friendship to such things as justice and the community. This gets a bit off the subject, so it is here that I must leave him. Yet, not before mentioning that, despite the praise that Aristotle gives to the friendship of the good, it still shares this quality with the other two: it lasts only as long as the lover is getting something out of the friendship (thus Epictetus' location of friendship in the will).
Thomas Aquinas, in his Summa Theologica I,II,26, addresses Aristotle's three fold division of friendship and his contention that "love is passion, while friendship is a habit." The particular question is Whether love is properly divided into love of friendship and love of concupiscence. Thomas answers by modifying Aristotle's distinction between love and friendship:
Love is not divided into friendship and concupiscence, but into love of friendship, and love of concupiscence. For a friend is, properly speaking, one to whom we wish good: while we are said to desire, what we wish for ourselves.
In saying this, Thomas has moved friendship into what is best for the beloved; not what the lover most desires for himself. As to the three-fold division of friendship, Thomas allows it with exceptions:
When friendship is based on usefulness or pleasure, a man does indeed wish his friend some good: and in this respect the character of friendship is preserved. But since he refers this good further to his own pleasure or use, the result is that friendship of the useful or pleasant, in so far as it is connected with love of concupiscence, loses the character to true friendship.
Friendships based on usefulness and pleasure may partake of the character of friendship; however, to the extent that they exist to fulfill the desires of the lover, they lose the character of friendship.
A further difference between Thomas and Aristotle is that Thomas allows for significant inequality in friendship, going even so far as to allow friendship with God. This friendship, while the inequality may not allow for it to be perfect according to Aristotle's definition, is, nevertheless, in the category of the good. We love God because he is wholly good. In loving us, God creates good in us.
Though Thomas did make significant improvements on Aristotle's concept of friendship, he did not go as far as Augustine. In IV, IV, 7 of his Confessions, Augustine speaks of a friend he once had:
But he was not then my friend, nor indeed ever became my friend, in the true sense of the term; for there is no true friendship save between those thou dost bind together and who cleave to thee by that love which is "shed abroad in our hearts through the Holy Spirit who is given to us." Still, it was a sweet friendship, being ripened by the zeal of common studies.
The importance of this passage for the progression of Christian thought on the matter is found in Augustine's distinction of true friendship. Although he will allow for a broader use of the term, apparently because of the constraints of language, he does not fall into the Greek mode of abstracting concepts, as though the friendships of believers and non-believers could be the same thing. Rather, he relies on scripture for his definition of friendship. True friendship is based on true love. True love is only possible as a gift of the Holy Spirit. Unbelievers cannot be true friends. They are, at best, left in Aristotelian categories.
Before dealing with the possibility of friendship between believers and non-believers, I would like to look further into a biblical concept and basis for Christian friendship. Such a friendship needs and has the endurance claimed by Epictetus of the will. However, it is not nearly as passionless nor does it rely on our own power. The basis of our being able to will friendship lies in our union with Christ and in the objective fellowship that we have with one another because of this union. We are called to practice friendship with believers because they, in fact, already are our friends. Nevertheless, while we remain in this world, this basis for friendship must find full expression in comparatively few instances. This is in part due to our lack of sanctification: sin still impedes our ability to love one another. It is in part due to our finitude: we cannot possibly love everyone with the intensity due someone who is united with Christ. We look forward to the day when neither of these qualifications are the case.
Aside from providing us with the basis for true friendship, scripture also shows us how it looks, both from narrative passages, such as the love between David and Jonathan, and from didactic passages from the life of Christ. The most striking feature, in distinction from Greek views, would seem to be the selflessness of true love and, consequently, of true friendship. John 3:16 is the most obvious example. Dealing more specifically with friendship is John 15:13, "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." These words, which are spoken by Jesus, are also fulfilled by him in his own death. It should not be thought, however, that friendship on the part of God leaves us without obligation. Jesus goes on, "You are my friends if you do what I command." But again, this obedience is not due merely to our own stoic will. As Thomas argues, God creates good in those he loves. We obey Christ, we are his friends, because he first loved and befriended us.
What then can be said about friendship between Christians and the world? True friendship may not be possible but may have to look like Aristotle's friendship of the good. Nevertheless, we can still practice true friendship toward them. It should be our passion that, just as God's friendship toward us created good in us, so too, through us, he may convert them into true friends. For this reason, true love toward them is necessary on our part. "Love your neighbor as yourself" really means it.
Just before entering the second grade I prayed that a 12 year old Indian boy would get saved. A couple of years later, I prayed all the more fervently that no one else would find out. It all started when my mother wanted to know why the back of my head was bleeding.
“Duane threw a can at me.”
“But, why?”
“I don’t know. I was just looking at the swing and he threw a can at me.”
Further interrogation brought out more details. I had been outside playing on the swing when Duane wandered in from the village and asked if he could play too. Saying yes was the polite thing to do and, besides, Duane was bigger. After he had been there longer than I thought necessary, I gingerly suggested that perhaps turns would be in order. To my surprise, Duane seemed to be agreeable to the idea. Sporting a rather prominent grin, he immediately jumped to the ground and allowed me to make my approach. But then, grabbing the swing, he threw it over the top bar well out of my reach and headed back to the village.
“So, when did he throw the can at you?”
“Um…”
“Did you do anything to make him mad?”
“No.”
“Did you throw something at him?”
“No.”
“Did you say something to him?”
“ .”
“Kevin?”
It hadn’t taken long to recover from the initial shock. My social status during the upcoming school year required that I take action. I called out to him and Duane turned around to look at me. Soon I remembered that he was obviously too large for me take down on my own. So, I claimed the only weapon that a young Christian boy has in these kinds of situations. I quoted the first Bible verse that came to mind. Then, still maintaining my composure, I turned my back to him and faced the swing.
That evening, my mother suggested that God could still make everything turn out better. I didn’t see how. All I had to do, she explained, was to pray that God would change Duane’s heart. Pray that God saves Duane. I reluctantly agreed. There was, after all, no guarantee that Duane’s salvation would prevent him from throwing more cans. Later that year, after one of the church services that we would hold in our living room, Duane stayed after to talk to my father. He became the only convert to the faith that we had during our two year stay as missionaries in Anvik, Alaska. And the first prayer was answered.
The World Baptist Fellowship exists as a cooperative effort of independent churches in order to send missionaries to the field. Every May, they hold a missions conference to coincide with the graduation ceremonies of their college. There are representatives from WBF churches all over the country. For those that are close enough to the DFW Metroplex, whole congregations may show up. In addition, all of the missionary families that are home on furlough and able to attend come and give testimonies about their time on the field. That year, we were able to attend. I was just completing the third grade and in four months we would be leaving for Brazil.
I didn’t really know what was going on. It looked to me like a lot of the church services we’d been to while raising more support. As usual, I would blend in with crowd while my father said something about our new mission field. Perhaps he would even preach. But then I noticed something rather disturbing. The missionaries who were on stage speaking were up there with their families. In most cases, the man would speak while his family stood dutifully next to him. Occasionally, his wife would say something. They would then exit stage right to a short burst of applause. My fate having been sealed, I began preparing myself. Okay, you can do this. All you have to do is stand there.
An usher broke my concentration, “Y’all are next!” We were escorted backstage and waited our turn. It came and I began to wonder if all the other MKs’ stomachs were in the same kinds of knots. Relief came when my father finished speaking. I started walking off the stage only to quickly realize that my mother was headed in the wrong direction.
What is she doing?
“I’d like to tell you about Duane.”
The sheer intensity of prayer has erased the next few minutes from my memory. However, I distinctly remember hearing the verse, the only Bible verse that had come to mind.
“Ye are of your father the devil!”
And so it happened that, instead of my second prayer being answered to my satisfaction, I was left standing on a stage in an auditorium in Texas while two thousand people laughed at me.
We were never able to do any follow up work and no other missionaries went to Anvik after us. I still wonder whatever happened to Duane. More prayer is in order.
Monitored by Ryan’s web presence last week was an interesting discussion on the concept of “duende.” In Portuguese, the word (pronounced DWEN-djee) denotes a goblin. I’m not aware that the general Portuguese or Brazilian culture has gone beyond children’s fairly tale references to Marquez’s description of it as “a demon, an inner blackness that craves an escape into the spiritual that is simply impossible.” Nevertheless, the word has been transmuted into a truly intriguing concept. I won’t pretend to be able to say anything about the occasion of the discussion- rock music is simply not one of my driving passions and I wouldn’t begin to know how to identify an emo band. However, I suspect that the term goes beyond rock music to the full gamut of artistic or even cultural expression. Essentially, duende recognizes the necessity of the impossible. It is the religious longing for hope, understanding, or purpose without necessarily buying into the encumbrance of a particular deity or any deity for that matter.
Aaron is right: with Jesus, our view should be light years away. And this not only from those who don’t recognize the religious longing in great art, but from those who recognize nothing more than this religious longing. If there is no Jesus, then our experiences will not find any significance beyond our feelings. All of which is probably not any new information for Christians, and, for the matter, not really the point in this discussion that interests me. What I do want to know is this: is it possible for a Christian artist to have the quality of duende? Duende, according to Marquez’s description, is a craving for the “simply impossible.” The problem is this- Christians, through no fault or effort of their own, have attained the impossible. The spiritual escape, which others so eloquently crave, is already ours; and not just an escape, but a day to day reality. It would seem then that redemption kills art.
Then again, such a conclusion is perhaps a bit hasty. There is no need to relegate Christian art to the picture frames and coffee mugs of your neighborhood Bible Bookstore. While the use of the term may be relatively recent, duende describes a quality that has always been the case. Those who have coined the term in this particular usage are not defining great artists; they are describing them. In many cases, they’re dead on. In other cases, they fail to recognize the objective hope of the Christian artist; however, they do recognize both the religious longing and, at times, the sadness that is found in such art.
Duende, it would seem, is not characterized by mere longing. Longing for something is rather commonplace. We long for things all the time that we may or may not get. As I hear it described, duende is found in the tension between an intense craving and the knowledge that this craving will never be satisfied. Where then is the tension for the believer? We know that, one day, our cravings will be satisfied. But there is no tension here and, consequently, no fertile ground for the artist. The tension, I believe, is found in the recognition that, despite the presence of an intense craving, there also exists a perfect and present satisfaction. The ability to express this tension constitutes the quality of duende just as much as anything that Marquez describes.
It is not so much the inner darkness craving an escape into the spiritual as it is the spiritual craving an escape from the inner darkness. Yet, duende does not have to describe a crisis of faith (although this can be the source of some very good artistic expression). Rather, it may be an affirmation of faith. How does Paul put it? “That I may know him and the fellowship of his sufferings.” It is not that Jesus suffers for us so that we can have a care free existence. Instead, we are crucified with him- and yet we live. Duende may be found in the expression of our union with Christ. It is the knowledge that Christ identifies with his people; that he too has been unable to sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land but has, instead, wept as he remembers Jerusalem.
I have been engaging in a personal exploration of a new concept and there isn’t much more I can say. As I have written this, three examples of duende in Christian art have come to mind. One is a painting: Rembrandt’s “Jeremiah Weeping over Jerusalem.” Another is Bach’s “St. Matthew Passion.” The text may be religious; however, I am not trying to suggest that Christian artists must produce explicitly Christian content. I had in mind the music, which stands on its own. The opening, especially, is incredible. The last is probably more familiar:
What wondrous love is this that caused the Lord of bliss
To bear the dreadful curse for my soul…
And when from death I’m free, I’ll sing and joyful be,
And through eternity I’ll sing on.
It happened like the inevitable obsolescence of a working chain whose least observed link had begun to crack. Assurance of faith had never been a problem. Such was, however, the product of living in a community given over to a thoroughly objectivist mindset, one which rested on a number of proofs demonstrable to any honest inquirer. That those outside our ranks did not agree with us was seen as evidence either of their lack of integrity or of their stupidity. The fool, after all, has said in his heart that there is no God. But then, I found that I was no longer in agreement with my peers. I saw that what should have been faith in God was often indistinguishable from faith in assumptions. And so began the process of my conversion.
Two items came to my attention: 1) I found myself unable to give any credence to empirical or rational foundations for the Christian faith. To do so, it seemed, reversed the proper order of things. The presence of a cosmos was not to be taken as incontrovertible evidence of a creator. Rather, prior faith in God led one to the conclusion that everything else is created. These evidences might serve as signs to point to the reasonableness of the faith; however, apart from that faith they could never serve as proofs for that faith. 2) The outsiders who are not convinced by such evidence are neither dishonest nor stupid. They simply do not have faith. Having come to this realization, I have often marvelled at the intelligence of the unsaved; an intelligence that has nothing to do with whether or not they are ultimately correct in their conclusions.
I do not agree with those who say, "Look around. I don't see how anyone can say that all of this just evolved." I, for one, do see how they can say it. Or take moral arguments, for instance. Dostoyevsky once wrote, "If there is no God, then all things are permissable." But this certainly does not mean that all those who do not believe in God actually behave accordingly. Many, in fact, have a well practiced sense of morality. Besides, the argument works both ways, "If there is a God, then all things are justified." Before dismissing this out of hand, consider the wars and other atrocities perpetrated in the name of religion. If one is going to start with observed things, then the argument for God is no more significant than a coin toss. Both options are valid.
The deciding factor is faith; however, such faith fails miserably as an argument and I should not have made it one. Not that I did so in any observable manner: the whole exchange took place in my own mind. From the perspective of the one who has no faith, faith seems like nothing more than an arbitrary decision on my part. God exists because I say so. The folly of such a claim is then demonstrated when my opponent makes an equally bold claim to the contrary. We both have 'faith' in our positions and the concept becomes meaningless.
As it happened, that day was no different than any other- I had not been threatened into renouncing my faith. If I had been, I might have been exposed, for earlier, I had come to the uneventful conclusion that I was an atheist. Everything I had ever believed about the supernatural was wrong. But, rather than eliciting any strong emotions, there was only the matter of fact acceptance of the facts. How could I feel bad about betraying a non-entity?
I made no conscious effort to change my mind back, but woke up one day in a state of faith with the realization of what I had just done. Nor could it have happened otherwise. I am reminded of what Wordsworth once wrote, "We murder to dissect." Overall, not much different than my own attempts to organize and defend doctrine with no more investment of my own soul than I would put into a science project. Despite my attempts to see it in this way, faith is not the exercise of my own will to believe. It is, rather, the unerring and unbreakable embrace of my divine Lover. A Lover who, in order to restore the sight of someone so blinded as to have no sense of having wandered, does not take his rightful place in judgment but, as a trustworthy friend, walks beside him.