Opposites always lean on each other . . .

I got the chance a few weeks ago to hang out with some of my church friends and have a proper theological/philosophical conversation. At some point during the talk we were talking about the idea of deconstruction, which I openly confess up front that I am no expert on. Yet, foolishly, I think it proper to use my meager understanding to segue into some things that have been on my mind lately.

In deconstruction it is believed that all oppositions such as good and evil, poor and rich necessitate their opposite. In a sense these, oppositions can been seen to lack substance and eventually cause all our forms of knowledge to collapse in on themselves. When it is understood that good needs evil, or that dark needs light, all our narratives that speak of the triumph of one or the other cease to have meaning. In the end, we find that we need to reaffirm the oppositions that we have attacked so that we continue to have some sort of structure; only knowing that the structure will always remain provisional. (If you despise my summary let me know, but this is the best sense I've been able to make in my studies)

I bring this up because of thoughts I've had recently in regard to church, as well as reactions I've had to reading The Prophetic Imagination by Walter Brueggemann. In this book Brueggemann discusses the way in which the prophet's role is to compromise various societal structures that marginalize others. The prophet criticizes these structures and provides a sort of poetic vision of a better way. Brueggemann offers a wonderful analysis that really contextualizes the voice of the OT prophets to our present situation in affluent America. Yet, as the author points out, this prophetic voice is only one among the plurality of voices present in our Bible. In another one of his books, Brueggemann points out the many places where OT authors are calling out for any social order. It is true that these texts might be sponsored by imperial/aristocratic interests, but it is easy to see in war-torn societies that even tyrants are preferred to chaos.

Thus, we can discern in Scripture a conflict between a desire for order and a prophetic critique which rarely offers a means to a better order but does criticize and defy the present structures. Eventually it brings me to a perspective in which I suspect that prophecy needs oppressive structures, and to an extent these structures have learned to lean on prophetic critique. To some extent I can even perceive that prophets are merely an extension of the structures they oppose.

Everything is gray. So, rather than play the role of Samson and knock over the pillars that hold the roof over my head, I just acknowledge that all my knowledge is built on false dichotomies and move on.

I was driving through Dallas the other day amazed by the sheer number and sizes of churches that I passed on every street. Consider the billions of square feet that the churches in Dallas alone must represent, and the fact that homelessness exists. Churches exist to maintain the structure of society. Churches hate prophets and kill them at every turn. They want to care for poverty by systematizing it; to manage it, but certainly not prevent it. We display the cross on steeples across the nation to remind others what we do to those who speak up, but certainly not for what we would personally consent to suffer. Yet, my very ability to write these thoughts down and your ability to read them is based on the security that such social order has provided. My desire to be a doctor and to help people is built upon the fact that I live in a society that is ordered enough that I can aim for such goals. The only reason I've been able to think these thoughts is that I was well-fed and had enough leisure time to consider the way things are.

Lately I have been troubled by the attempt to discern whether Christian faith is built upon Jesus as an example, or Jesus as an inspiration. The difference for me is enormous. If Jesus is an example that we are supposed to follow, then we are expected to emulate him in his radical prophecy even to the detriment of social order. If literally following Jesus' example is the mark of a Christian, then I hold to the fact that I've never met a Christian. I know they're out there, but I've never met one. I know no one who lives radically enough to suffer prison, hunger, disease, or death in order to be like Jesus. Not one. I certainly don't qualify, nor do I hope that I ever will.

On the other hand, if Jesus is our inspiration I still find much hope and meaning in Christianity. I say this because it leaves plenty of room for creativity. Instead of falling into a prescripted role as prophet or societal agent, it allows for human indeterminacy that plays on the ironic plasticity of systems we otherwise assume are absolute. In other words, and mostly as a confession, I have recently only found hope in faith as one who lives within a system and is part of a system, yet finds inspiration in Jesus' prophetic (and radically humanistic) mentality. This inspiration seeks to play on the fact that our society is built around pillars of order and the prophetic humanism of Judaeo-Christian tradition. To attempt to choose one over the other is to lend rigidity to the structure of our society as it is, but to encompass both . . .

Again, I write all of this confessionally rather than as instruction, which could probably be said for most of my writing. Hopefully I'll be able to clarify and explain further in a later post.

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