A poetic take on theology

Kristin Jack, from the Servants to Asia's Urban Poor, in his powerful collection Poetry and Prophecy  observes:

I am so weary of creedal system,
even more of doctrine,
for spirit will not slide
underneath a microscope,
or flow inside a formula
no matter how elegantly precise.

But I am all ears to Poetry and Prophecy,
the wild song that rides
upon the Wind and on the Light,
as ode to Love and Wonder
sung to the One and only Word
that ever truly took shape. ("Theology" p.39)

Tertullian and Christian non-violence

Dipping my way through Jean-Michel Hornus's fascinating source book on early Christianity It is Not Lawful For Me To Fight: Early Christian Attitudes Toward War, Violence and the State (Herald Press, 1982) brought to my attention his conclusion that Tertullian, Origen and Lactantius during the early centuries of the Christian movement were developing a doctrine of positive non-violence. Hornus is a church historian from the Reformed church so he could not be accused as an Anabaptist might of reading back his/her commitments into the original sources.

Hornus argues that their approach was rooted in a conviction that there was another power at work in history beyond that of brute force. He finds in Tertullian an account of how believers might resist injustice without having to resort to unjust methods. Tertullian in his admonition to the proconsul Scapula referred to a historical precedent.

In Asia, under Arrius Antonius, the Christians had responded to persecution by going en masse to the tribunal o be condemned. The prosecutor's embarrassment and confusion had been comical. What would Scapula do "if thousands of those under his administration men and women of all ages and conditions , were to come and offer themselves voluntarily for martyrdom?"(p.215)

A tourist's reflections on the Christchurch earthquake

The Christchurch earthquake occurred close to the end of a wonderful holiday that my wife Jillian and I had been enjoying on the North Island of New Zealand . After the earthquake, for the last few days of our visit we found ourselves at the bookending each day of sightseeing with the continuous live TV coverage of the impacts of the earthquake on the lives of people in Christchurch and the search and rescue process.

Beyond the ongoing feelings of horror at the devastation both physically and of the fabric of people's lives and awe at the instinctive and generosity of ordinary people that was on display we found ourselves referring back to several visits we had made during the previous ten days of our visit in which the reality of earthquakes in re-shaping the landscape and communities across New Zealand had been on display as part of the tourist experience.

It had started for us in Wellington at Te Papa, as the wonderful National Museum is affectionately referred to, where New Zealand's location on the Ring of Fire was visually demonstrated and explained. At Rotorua we learned about a series of earthquakes prior to the eruption of Mt Tarawera in 1886 that led to the destruction of several Maori villages, the deaths of probably more than 120 people, and the vast expansion of Lake Rotomahana to twenty times its original size.

Our visit to Napier on the east coast was particularly poignant in retrospect. We had visited the city just a few days after the eightieth anniversary of the Hawke's Bay earthquake. On 3 February 1931 an earthquake of magnitude 7.8 on the Richter scale devastated Napier as well as causing widespread damage in the neighbouring town of Hastings.At least 256 people died in the earthquake that remains in absolute as well as proportionate terms given the population of New Zealand at that date.

The central business district of Napier was completely devastated by the quake and the resulting fire. The national response was to embark on a rebuilding of the city centre, intereswtingly the in art deco style, a reconstruction that was completed within two years. The resulting distinctive character of the city has been maintained by the residents and is a source of civic pride, community identity and most helpfully, a substantial flow of tourists.

With these experiences fresh in our minds, we quickly became aware that the commentary accompanying the television coverage displayed an almost total lack of awareness of the history of large scale devastation and loss of life in New Zealand from earthquakes. The framing of the narrative as though there had been no previous history of major disasters in New Zealand, occluded from view a possible source of encouragement; that is accounts of how the New Zealand community had responded in creative and compassionate ways to  disasters of this scale in the past.

The other issue that emerged as we listened to the interviews with people in Christchurch related to the language used to describe the terrible devastation of the Cathedral and the destruction of the spire -at last count probably 22 people died in the Cathedral as a result of the earthquake. The use of the term "iconic" was repeatedly used to describe the Cathedral and its destruction was described as "tearing the heart out of the city". Remnants of the Christendom settlement were clearly evident in this expression of grief over the destruction of the building. In the midst of this the Dean of the Cathedral struck the right note when interviewed in the early days after the quake with his focus on the question of the safety and survival of the missing people ahead of questions about the building.

It was, however, I thought a significant use of language by the media and civic leadership in a country in which church attendance and affiliation is probably even lower than in Australia, and points toward a significant issue that is likely to emerge when the question of restoration or rebuilding of the cathedral comes to the fore. The question will be who pays and who will determine the shape of the rebuilt cathedral? If it is indeed a community icon, then the wider community will want a say in shaping the new building.

I acknowledge that his may seem preemptive at a point when grief and dislocation are the issues that need to be dealt with by those on the spot. Let me at least put the issue on the table for consideration when the time is ripe.

I would doubt that the Anglican Church of Aotoerea even with whatever insurance it might receive will have the funds by itself for a reconstruction along traditional lines. If reconstruction is publicly funded then the general public is likely to want something that looks recognisably like a the previous cathedral, or a "real church"in that location. I would guess that there will be a substantial group of engaged Anglicans who are likely to see the rebuilding of the Cathedral as an opportunity for a building design that represents a more contemporary understanding of the church, and its role in the community, as a creative minority in a post-Christendom environment. These respective visions are almost certainly bound to come into conflict and the pastoral effort and wisdom required by Church leadership in dialogue with their faith community in discerning how to move forward is likely to be considerable.

Beyond this specific issue, the damage to the fabric of the churches across Christchurch and the engagement by Christians in the recovery phase over the next couple of years offers a substantial opportunity to reconsider the shape of Christian mission across the city. I would hope that the leadership of Christian communities will see this as an opportunity to reassess the shape of church life and the infrastructure needed to support it and check the rush to automatically commence rebuilding what was destroyed. Hopefully too the experience of engaging with people where they are and focusing on being present with people outside the safety of traditional "sacred" spaces during the process of recovery might provide some clues as to the future shape of a church in Christchurch which demonstrates the presence of Christ in the everyday.

In the meantime, we can  continue to pray for all those in Christchurch who are grieving with those who grieve and sharing the relief with those who are relieved that their losses are less than others.

Holidays

Further delay in resuming normal service in this highly irregular blog. I have been sorting through lots of hard copy stuff in my study, clearing layers of the stuff out in preparation for the next stage of my life, resigning from the public service and starting a PhD on the engagement between church, their agencies and the Federal Government in delivering public policy and community services. Should generate lots of material to comment on this site. That's the plan.

In the mean time off to New Zealand for three weeks holiday.

An anarchist history of upland southest Asia - a way of rereading the history of Israel

I have just finished a great read - James C Scott, The Art of Not Being Governed: An Anarchist History of Upland Southeast Asia (Yale University Press, 2009).

Here Scott offers a history of the estimated 100 million people who live in a vast hill and mountain zone that runs across southwest China, northeast India, and parts of five Southeast Asian countries. Contrary to the usual account that sees these people as the original inhabitant who have been left behind by history, he provides an account that turns the usual assumptions upside down.

These populations fled into the hills over the course of two millennia, he argues, to avoid the imposition of slavery, indentured labor, and taxes by expanding states. they have developed their community, economic and religious life as an active effort at state evasion and state resistance

That is, they evolved languages, economies, and ways of life that were designed to keep the state at bay, or to be engaged with on their own terms. He draws attention to some examples of this process outside of Asia, as well. Scott often returns to the complex example of Myanmar (also called Burma) to explain how states mapped terrain, classified populations, and acquired resources as they expanded -- and to show how the Kachins, the Hmong, and others resisted. often successfully this process.

Beyond the relevance of this work for studies of the region, this work raises tantalising questions about the role of the state in history and enables us to deconstruct the assumed, taken for granted account that the state is all important and acts of resistance to the state are marginal. We have here a framework for questioning the taken for granted character of this narrative.

Beyond that it also occurred to me that this account of resistance to the state might be of interest to Old Testament scholars in thinking about the emergence of Israel and helping to reread that history through the pentateuch and especially during the time of the Judges. I'm not an Old Testament scholar but it seems to me that there might be a PhD thesis of two in exploring the relevance of Scott's model for our understanding of the dynamics of the formation of Israel.

For example:

• the hills as a region of refuge or escape from the state making projects of the valleys (pp.22-3)
• pp122-3 to leave state space is to become characterised as a "barbarian" or a "tribal"
• "State expansion when it involves forms of force labour fosters (geographical conditions permitting) extrastate zones of flight and refuge. The inhabitants of such zones often constitute a composite of runaways and earlier-established peoples. (p.133) 
• the hill population were those without kings, operating with non-hierarchical patterns of limited local authority,
• the religious commitments of the hills were resistant to religious uniformity of the valley states - the hills are the source of prophetic movements.

 Scott's account of the development of tribal identity as not being driven by long lasting ethnicities but by the development of identity by all those fleeing to the hills to escape the valley states centralising authority.

The history of Israel has coded within it a resistance to centralising authority, in the escape from Egypt, the initial tribal form of non-hierarchical authority and the limited power of the judges. Even under the kings there was always ready to emerge the strain of prophetic critique and resistance to that authority.

Canning Stock Route exhibition

The Canning Stock Route exhibition at the national Museum here in Canberra is finishing up its run on Australia Day. If you can get out there do it. It is an engaging and powerful recovery of history and mapping of geography from the point of view of the Aboriginal people in the region stretching from Wiluna to Halls Creek..

What it demonstrates powerfully is that geography and mapping is not culture neutral. The "white fella" map of the stock route took no account of the lines of language and cultural responsibility that were critical to the Indigenous geography of the region. There is a wonderful painting of one region that takes the form of a "western' map and overlays it with a pointers account of the ecological niches across the region as understood by those whose home it was and who closely the plant and animal patterns of life.

The story of the encounter with the stock route was a major project in historical and cultural documentation using Aboriginal artists and film makers from the communities along the length of the stock route to paint and narrate their stories of encounter and the impact that it had had on them. Some of the paintings were made by artists who had been part of the last communities to engage with the European invasion as late as 1956.

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Church, state and refugees

Joshua Ralston in Refugees and the Role of Religious Groups draws attention to the central role that religious organizations play in the long resettlement journey for refugees that begins with forced exile, moves through a sojourn  in a refugee camp, and ends for some at least with resettlement in a new country.

Church World Service, Jewish Family Services, World Relief and many other denominational organizations are involved in every step, from the handling of interviews and applications to determine refugee status, to meeting new arrivals at the airport, and providing the first few months of housing. The relief or mission agencies of churches and synagogues are integral partners in the government's response to refugees.

This appears to be a perfect symbiotic relationship, with the state providing what only it can - a political polity and the possibility of citizenship - and religious groups offering what they are best equipped to provide - hospitality. The political limbo of statelessness, which consigns refugees to "bare life" outside the law (as Giorgio Agamben describes it), can apparently only be overcome through the joint efforts of religion and state.

Ralston questions whether the church can be totally comfortable with the terms of this partnership and moves to articulate an approach that treats the church's own distinctive character seriously.

While much of the religious involvement in resettlement is laudable, it still regularly falls short of the call of Jewish and Christian scriptures to love the alien as "one of your own citizens" (Leviticus 19:33). Central to the biblical narrative is a reminder to love and treat the stranger as a neighbour.

However, partnership with the state presses Christian mission increasingly away from this biblical mandate and towards what the German Jesuit theologian Johan Baptist Metz calls "a service providing religion." Under this model, refugees are not new neighbours or possible joint-members of the body of Christ, but clients to whom a political service is owed.

Bretherton is right to worry, then, that "involvement with the state often exacerbates social divisions and forces the church to mimic the state in its form and practices." At times, the church's response to refugees resembles something like the Department of Motor Vehicles. Once the service is met - with a pick up at the airport, a quick welcome, and few months rent paid - the church's mission moves on to its next project.

What is lacking in this model is the kind of long and patient friendships that nurture community, alter the national character of the church, and challenge the state's assumptions about citizenship and human identity.

 One way that the church might enact this is to follow what Bretherton calls "doxological politics," which "hallow" or bless the lives of refugees through acts of listening, community organizing, offering sanctuary to asylum seekers and shared worship. All of these acts serve as ad hoc ways to move beyond the service-oriented logic of resettlement and toward genuine encounter and mutual enrichment.

Another model is found in the Jesuit Refugee Service's practice of physical accompaniment, which signals God's presence alongside those excluded from national polity.

The church can thereby hold a mirror up to liberal democracy's claims of inclusion and human rights by demanding the state live up to its own ideals. As political philosopher Selya Benhabib argues in The Rights of Others, "There is not only a tension, but often an outright contradiction, between human rights declarations and states' sovereign claim to control their borders as well as to monitor the quality and quantity of admittees."

Hallowing the life of refugees and accompanying them beyond the services of resettlement includes advocating for just national and international immigration policies that are grounded in something more than the economic needs of the welcoming nation.

This is not to say that the church, or other religious organizations, should abjure their roles in resettling refugees. However, if they are to partner with the state in this process, they must also stretch their imagination and political commitments beyond the borders of the nation-state and the national rhetoric that accompanies debates on immigration.
The church would then act as a public and political witness to the presence and dignity of refugees, both locally and worldwide. In so doing, the church might be surprised to find itself following the way of the God who, in Karl Barth's wonderful phrase, journeyed into the far country for our sake.