There is a lot of craziness out there, but it’s hard to persuade people they need renewal, even repentance, if the primary thing they hear from you is that they are wicked, crazy, or stupid. It was a truism in the evangelicalism I grew up in, but like many truisms, it circulated for a reason: they won’t care how much you know until they know how much you care. One of the knocks on Moore from his co-religionists to his right is that he curries favor with cultural elites at the expense of his less sophisticated co-religionists. Even though Moore remains robustly pro-life and traditional on sexual ethics, critics will point to his New York Times columns and his upcoming appearance in a Rob Reiner–produced film that lambastes conservative Christians. I wish this book did more to counter this criticism.

If there is a primary fault in Losing Our Religion, it is that Moore’s understandably personal and near-gobsmacked account of what went sour between him and his church compromises his standing to appeal to his brothers and sisters to choose a more excellent way. Having read and listened to Moore for some time, I believe he loves the evangelical church, and even still the SBC; but at times, the book runs the risk of conveying a contempt that former American Enterprise Institute president Arthur Brooks warned us about.

This risk is truly unfortunate, for in addition to elements of memoir, jeremiad, lament, and indictment, the book includes several counts of Moore’s wisdom and counsel for persevering through a challenging season. Under subheadings like “Rekindle Awe,” “Cultivate Loyalty in Community,” “Believe and Share the Gospel,” and “Pay Attention to Means, Not Just to Ends,” Moore’s pastoral voice takes center stage and points his readers toward healthier ways of cultivating peace of mind and engaging our neighbors and society. And Moore’s conclusion, relating his childhood profession of faith in Christ to where he is now in 2023, is a wonderful stand-alone meditation that reminds me of the best of evangelical faith and fervor.

Read it all.

It’s hard to persuade people they need renewal, even repentance, if the primary thing they hear from you is that they are wicked, crazy, or stupid. It was a truism in the evangelicalism I grew up in, but like many truisms, it circulated for a reason.https://t.co/m1c61pyMKw

— Public Discourse (@PublicDiscourse) January 17, 2024

If you want to understand your own behavior, you must understand that all sin against God is grounded in a refusal to believe that God is more dedicated to our good, and more aware of what that is, than we are. We distrust God because we assume he is not truly for us, that if we give him complete control we will be miserable. Adam and Eve did not say, “Let’s be evil. Let’s ruin our own live and everyone else’s too!” Rather they thought, “We just want to be happy. But his commands don’t look like they will give us the things that we need to thrive. We will have to take things into our own hands—we can’t trust him.”

—Tim Keller, The Prodigal Prophet: Jonah and the Mystery of God’s Mercy (New York: Viking, 2018). pp.137-138, shared by yours truly in the morning sermon

KINDLE DEAL: "Timothy Keller: His Spiritual and Intellectual Formation" by @CollinHansen is $5.99. This book is an excellent read, *especially* for the bibliography all those who influenced and shaped Tim Keller. https://t.co/dG221YZAeE (affiliate link) pic.twitter.com/HTqUHP3V65

— Barnabas Piper (@BarnabasPiper) December 13, 2023

Professor Frederick Christian Bauerschmidt was awarded the 2023 Michael Ramsey Prize for Theological Writing on Thursday evening.

The award was given for his book The Love That Is God: An invitation to Christian faith (William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 2020). Dr Bauerschmidt is Professor of Theology at Loyola University, Maryland, in the United States, and is a permanent deacon of the Archdiocese of Baltimore.

Professor Bauerschmidt received £15,000, and was presented with a medal by the Archbishop of Canterbury during an awards ceremony in Lambeth Palace Library.

Read it all.

US theologian wins @MRamseyPrize for description of God’s love https://t.co/0xS6jOwiIy

— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) December 15, 2023

God can be served in any circumstance because all things can be done for him, and he sees all things. We all tend to plot our actions along a hierarchy of significance, placing certain deeds at the top (getting that promotion or visiting a sick friend in the hospital) and relegating others to also-ran status (praying the prayer no one will ever thank you for or sweeping the floor).

I have often wondered whether the front-page splash on heaven’s newspaper, so to speak, will be the anonymous elderly lady who, perhaps unbeknown to her church friends, persisted for years in private prayer for God’s world, never having preached a sermon, never mind led a revival. She is the unspectacular spectacle of God’s glory.

To live and die by the dynamics of “making a name for ourselves” is to submit to a court of a public opinion that allows only certain achievements to count, with value ascribed to our words and deeds according to the fickle tastes of the crowd. God’s judgment, by contrast, cuts across these perverse and changeable hierarchies of importance, “for the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart” (1 Sam. 16:7, ESV). There are no meaningless actions, meaningless words, or meaningless thoughts, for our witness is also our judge.

Read it all.

From the builders of Genesis 11 to the architects of the modern world, we've forgotten who makes our name great.

An excerpt from CT’s Book of the Year by @DrChrisWatkin. https://t.co/jJuBqWTcKy

— Christianity Today (@CTmagazine) December 4, 2023

Nor do the young readers realise how much they are being taught about Christianity, for God and Jesus are never mentioned, yet the books are suffused with Lewis’s theology; and Aslan, the Lion, is an alternative incarnation which teaches more about the incarnation than a lifetime of Sunday-school lessons.

Perhaps Lewis’s single greatest legacy is to be found at the very end of the seventh of the Narnia books, The Last Battle. Like no one else, he was able to write about heaven in a way that fills the reader with longing and a conviction that, yes, the unimaginable splendour must be something like this:

“And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and so beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after.

“But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page: now, at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.”

Read it all.

'My Dear Lucy, I wrote this story for you, but when I began it I had not realized that girls grow quicker than books. As a result you are already too old for fairy tales, and by the time it is printed and bound you will be older still. But some day you will be old enough to start… pic.twitter.com/TouRLEwJ8i

— Simon Knott (@SimoninSuffolk) November 29, 2023

‘Men must know God. That is the one thing they must do. And this can mean nothing less than that God is eminently worthy to be known in all the length and breadth and height and depth of His Character. The Christian is a God-explorer. The Christian vision is the vision of God.

The missionary vision is the vision of God also. It is not something different from the Christian vision. It is the same vision being shared rather than merely enjoyed. It is the same vision being shared with men who have no natural taste for it, in the hope that God will create that taste so that they to will become “God-admirers.” Sharing the vision of God – that is the work of missions.’

–Tom Wells, A Vision for Missions (Banner of Truth, 1985)

In his book, A Vision for Missions, Tom Wells writes with the conviction that Christians must come back to first principles. Human needs and world conditions are not the starting point. The Gospel is a call to know and worship God. Available from the Liberty library. pic.twitter.com/xF0b3Ma4PI

— Liberty Baptist Church (@libertybaptistm) October 17, 2023

Some British intellectuals were attempting to restore shaken public faith that good could defeat evil. Sayers, Chesterton and other masters of detective fiction truly believed that the great mysteries of their troubled age “were solvable,” said [Lesley-Anne] Williams in one of her lectures.

“I don’t think that we’re in a golden age of mystery now. I think part of that is, you have to have a belief that there is a truth that can be known,” she said. Thus, a yearning for absolutes could be “one of the reasons why people like mystery novels. They are kind of self-contained. You can trust the author to do certain things. … There is justice here and you have to have a belief in justice, you have to have a belief in truth to do that kind of mystery.”

In a 1957 eulogy for Sayers, Lewis stressed that his friend didn’t want to preach. She was striving to communicate clearly to a broader audience.

“There is in reality no cleavage between the detective stories and her other works,” wrote Lewis. “In them, as in it, she is first and foremost the craftsman, the professional. She always saw herself as one who has learned a trade, and respects it, and demands respect for it from others. We who loved her may (among ourselves) largely admit that this attitude was sometimes almost comically emphatic. …

Read it all.

(OPINION/@tweetmattingly) Dorothy Sayers’ Christian faith: Murder mysteries, theology and classical ed. As president of the Detection Club, Sayers led initiation rites featuring ceremonial garb, flickering candles and a human skull.https://t.co/noBpxX4yAP

— Religion Unplugged (@ReligionMag) October 26, 2023

As Down says, the grey areas are what interest him most. Intensive-care guidelines are in place to ingrain the most effective procedures, and thereby reduce the stresses of decision-making in the chaos of a medical crisis. They are not infallible, however. One of Down’s patients is taken off ventilation but then dies from an “airway catastrophe”, even though the guidelines have been followed to the letter. Sometimes doctors might save a patient by deviating from the protocols, but how many more would suffer if they improvised more freely? In many cases there is not a single correct procedure to follow, and failure isn’t necessarily instructive. Good luck and bad luck play a part.

Down and his colleagues have no choice but to honour the wishes of an intelligent young patient who refuses to undergo blood transfusion on religious grounds, even though she is aware that her refusal might prove fatal. By good fortune, she pulls through. Conversely, an alcoholic patient declines rapidly and inexplicably on Down’s watch. Her symptoms suggest an abdominal collapse, but tests don’t find any evidence. Finally it is established that violent vomiting has ruptured the woman’s oesophagus, allowing acidic stomach contents to seep into her chest, lethally. The condition is known as Boerhaave syndrome, and Down berates himself for not arriving at the diagnosis sooner, even though the outcome would have been no different had the rupture been located quickly – the patient could not have survived an operation.

Read it all.

👏 Well done to UCLH critical care consultant Jim Down on publishing his second book, Life in the Balance.

His new book offers a real glimpse into intensive care medicine, its immense challenges and effects on mental health.

Read more here: https://t.co/B9luDTwutI #OneTeam pic.twitter.com/tGmoRuwhn5

— UCLH (@uclh) February 23, 2023

O Lord, thou God of truth, whose Word is a lantern to our feet and a light upon our path: We give thee thanks for thy servant Jerome, and those who, following in his steps, have labored to render the Holy Scriptures in the language of the people; and we beseech thee that thy Holy Spirit may overshadow us as we read the written Word, and that Christ, the living Word, may transform us according to thy righteous will; through the same Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

September 30 is the feast of Saint Jerome: Illyro-Roman nobleman, hermit, priest, theologian, exegete, mystic, historian, chronologist, hagiographer, adviser to Pope Saint Damasus, translator of the Latin Vulgate, and Doctor of the Church—who died at Bethlehem on this day in 420. pic.twitter.com/s41TrEZHHr

— Tradical (@NoTrueScotist) September 30, 2023

This deeply Christian book names and identifies with the holistic way in which Jesus approached people. It draws on “biblical insights, the lived experience of those who struggle with mental health challenges, the insights of psychiatry and the mental health sciences, and the resources of theology”. This makes it a vital resource for all those wishing to support those thus challenged and for those who care for and about them.

Particular features are a useful summary of specific illnesses in chapter one and close encounters with biblical narratives throughout, notably that on Job and his friends. The authors suggest that Job’s struggles were not outside God’s presence, but were “a valid and essential expression of faith in the midst of utter darkness”. This sense of despair is picked up in chapter three, in a reflection on the dark night of the soul as explored by St John of the Cross in the 16th century. Comparison is made with characteristics of a depressive disorder. The difficulty in disentangling spiritual and psychological struggles is named. This difficulty was the research object of the psychiatrist Glòria Durà-Vilà, who was troubled by the over-medicalisation of deep sadness and published her findings in Sadness, Depression, and the Dark Night of the Soul (Jessica Kingsley, 2017).

Read it all.

You’re invited to join @CorinPilling, UK Director of Sanctuary Mental Health Ministries, as he hosts the virtual launch of a new book, Struggling with God, by Christopher C.H. Cook, Isabelle Hamley, and John Swinton.
Register for free online at https://t.co/2Rt6jptgsN

— Sanctuary Mental Health Ministries (@SanctuaryMH) June 26, 2023

Howe begins by describing an American malaise that most readers here will likely need little convincing is our present reality: a government that can no longer carry out even the most basic tasks of governance; rock-bottom public trust among the American people and in institutions more broadly; hyper-partisanship; high economic inequality; declining public health; moral and legal chaos; strife between the sexes; and a collapse of family formation and birth rates. All these and more, says Howe, were predictable circumstances. They are also, he declares, almost certain to turn soon for the better: winter is here, but spring is coming.

Howe’s prediction rests on a model that at its core is timeless and simple. In fact, it can be summed up by that four-line Internet meme: “hard times create strong men, strong men create good times, good times create weak men, weak men create hard times.” Howe’s version manages to fill most of 500 pages with further nuance, however.

At least in the Anglo-American world that Howe has surveyed, history appears to move in predictable cycles of about 80 to 100 years that, resurrecting a Roman term for the concept, he calls a saeculum. These cycles each have four distinct phases—or “Turnings”—of around 20 to 25 years that always flow in the same order: a “High,” an “Awakening,” an “Unraveling,” and a “Crisis.” Turnings are driven by the changing of generations, or those portions of the population whose collective character was shaped by coming of age amid the societal conditions specific to a previous turning. Each generation’s character, embodied by one of four generational archetypes (“Artists,” “Prophets,” “Nomads,” and “Heroes”) is largely determined by its proximity to the last Crisis. Howe goes into great detail about each generation, but for our purposes all you really need to know is that Prophets, coming of age knowing only the softness of a spring High, begin to dream of utopia during a hotheaded summer Awakening and rebel against the world that their Hero fathers built, seeking to tear it all down during a quarter-century-long autumn Unraveling. This process culminates in a winter of true Crisis (a Fourth Turning), which a new generation of Heroes must struggle to resolve, after which they establish a new order, leading to another High. And yes: the baby boomers of the 1960s counterculture are our most recent Prophets, which means the millennials will have to be our Heroes.

Don’t be (too) alarmed, Howe urges his readers. We’ve been here before, multiple times in fact, and managed not only to survive but also to thrive.

Read it all.

"Riveting and revelatory" – @TonyRobbins

THE FOURTH TURNING IS HERE looks to America’s past to predict how our present era of civil unrest will end—and what our lives will look like once it has.

Available now: https://t.co/0ZSxbQ0BJR pic.twitter.com/4XInEy73L6

— Simon & Schuster (@SimonBooks) September 11, 2023

Here, from Sebastian Milbank, in an essay making a counterintuitive but compelling case for Tolkien’s place among the literary modernists, is a useful summary of the argument over the portrayal of good and evil in “Lord of the Rings,” which has been ongoing since the saga first appeared:

The often ferocious response of many critics perhaps stemmed from the apparent anachronism of the book, combined with its massive popularity. It was published in 1954, at a time when literary modernism was dominant and pervading the academy. Modernist writers were obsessed with interiority, broke with prior literary convention, and traded in irony, ambiguity and convoluted psychology. Literary critics of the time were taking up the “New Criticism,” which dispensed not only with the previous generation’s fascination with historical context in favor of close reading, but also with the traditionalist concerns for beauty and moral improvement, which were regarded as subjective and emotionally driven. Spare, complex prose, focused on the darker side of society, was in vogue. Into this context dropped 1,200 pages of Dwarves, Elves and Hobbits in a grand battle of good and evil. They were greeted with the sort of enthusiasm one can imagine.

Edmund Wilson called the books “balderdash,” a battle between “Good people and Goblins.” The book’s morality was a sticking point even for the most sympathetic critics, with Edwin Muir lamenting that “his good people are consistently good, his evil figures immovably evil.”

I’ve read many variations on Muir’s claim over the years, especially once George R.R. Martin’s “Game of Thrones” became a dominant cultural influence, and it never ceases to be puzzling. There are various ways in which Tolkien refuses realism, and his books are in no way gritty or sexy in the contemporary style. But the idea that he wasn’t interested in the territory between good and evil is belied by even the most superficial reading of the story.

Yes, there is a mostly offstage villain, Sauron, whose evil seems fixed; yes, Sauron’s Orcish armies are fairly described as immovably depraved; yes, there is a set of characters who are unfailingly heroic despite various doubts and temptations. But between the “consistently good” and the “immovably evil” lies the zone in which most of the trilogy’s drama takes place — the corruption of the wizard Saruman, the fatal temptation of Boromir, the despair and subsequent redemption of Théoden, the curdled conservatism of Denethor and above all the complicated and tortured relationship between Frodo and Gollum, and within Gollum’s own divided consciousness. The Frodo-Gollum dynamic certainly features goodness and heroism, but not in any naïve way, and it ends with divine providence engineering the world’s salvation (though not its full redemption) through and despite their mutual corruption by the ring.

Read it all.

A while back I wrote some brief thoughts on Tolkien & his possible influence on English stasis. Here @DouthatNYT notes that I perhaps "[undersell] how much Tolkien subjected his own pastoral nostalgia to critique", which is a fair amendment, I think. https://t.co/yKApbFAJhp

— Niall Gooch 👍🇻🇦🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🚅🏏✒ (@niall_gooch) September 11, 2023

Why does ChatGPT continue to produce figurative and metaphorical interpretations of Jesus’ teachings? Why is it so easy to convince the chatbot to flip its claims on something like Paul’s use of temple imagery? There are at least two possible reasons: First, ChatGPT has no account of its own training and the traditions informing these interpretations, and second, ChatGPT has no connection to lived experience or reality. As it confidently asserted when I first asked it, it has no “personal beliefs or values.”

Despite this, it vigorously pursues an interpretation when asked, privileging certain perspectives and sometimes outlawing or excluding others. It does so because the words are a statistical game, not Scripture to be lived. It is only parroting what it has been trained on—which is a body of texts that it cannot identify because it seemingly no longer knows what they are (if it ever knew, and if know is even the proper term).

This presents a two-fold problem for Christians who might seek out information about the Bible from ChatGPT. First, one cannot be certain of the sources of the perspectives offered by ChatGPT. Jesus asserts several times in Matthew that his true disciples may be known by the fruits evident in their lives (5:15–20; 12:33–37; 21:33–46). If one cannot access the life of the interpreter and thus the fruits it has produced, how might the Christian know whether the interpretation comes from a true disciple of Jesus?

Second, ChatGPT and other large language models are “black boxes,” meaning we do not know what is happening to generate the responses they provide. Both Christianity and Judaism have historically emphasized engaging with the past and present religious community and that community’s interpretations of sacred texts and traditions.

Read it all.

ChatGPT’s interpretations are ignorant of tradition, overly metaphorical, and individualistic.

Those are pitfalls for human interpreters, too. https://t.co/J8aR5ivRli

— Christianity Today (@CTmagazine) August 1, 2023

Every society—even in the West—defines freedom differently,…[Wissam al-Saliby, advocacy officer for the WEA] continued, and the WEA must keep to an international minimum as it represents evangelical opinion. Hate speech is a significant societal problem, and the global WEA body endorses the UN-backed Rabat Plan of Action to determine when it crosses the line into incitement to violence.

The Christian minimum, however, is drawn instead from the image of God.

“Our ability to reject God and his love,” Saliby said, “establishes the absolute right of freedom of expression, religion, and the changing thereof.”

Secure in God’s love themselves, all Christians should condemn Quran burnings.

“Insulting religions does not reflect our Christian witness,” said Saliby. “Our Lord and Savior is bigger than this.”

Read it all.

“What happened in Sweden was an unwholesome use of the concept of personal freedom,” said one pastor in Baghdad. https://t.co/RyvtD1F0Nz

— Christianity Today (@CTmagazine) July 12, 2023

Have not many of us, in the weary way of life, felt, in some hours, how far easier it were to die than to live?

The martyr, when faced even by a death of bodily anguish and horror, finds in the very terror of his doom a strong stimulant and tonic. There is a vivid excitement, a thrill and fervor, which may carry through any crisis of suffering that is the birth-hour of eternal glory and rest.

But to live,–to wear on, day after day, of mean, bitter, low, harassing servitude, every nerve dampened and depressed, every power of feeling gradually smothered,–this long and wasting heart-martyrdom, this slow, daily bleeding away of the inward life, drop by drop, hour after hour,–this is the true searching test of what there may be in man or woman.

When Tom stood face to face with his persecutor, and heard his threats, and thought in his very soul that his hour was come, his heart swelled bravely in him, and he thought he could bear torture and fire, bear anything, with the vision of Jesus and heaven but just a step beyond; but, when he was gone, and the present excitement passed off, came back the pain of his bruised and weary limbs,–came back the sense of his utterly degraded, hopeless, forlorn estate; and the day passed wearily enough.

Long before his wounds were healed, Legree insisted that he should be put to the regular field-work; and then came day after day of pain and weariness, aggravated by every kind of injustice and indignity that the ill-will of a mean and malicious mind could devise. Whoever, in our circumstances, has made trial of pain, even with all the alleviations which, for us, usually attend it, must know the irritation that comes with it. Tom no longer wondered at the habitual surliness of his associates; nay, he found the placid, sunny temper, which had been the habitude of his life, broken in on, and sorely strained, by the inroads of the same thing. He had flattered himself on leisure to read his Bible; but there was no such thing as leisure there. In the height of the season, Legree did not hesitate to press all his hands through, Sundays and week-days alike. Why shouldn’t he?””he made more cotton by it, and gained his wager; and if it wore out a few more hands, he could buy better ones. At first, Tom used to read a verse or two of his Bible, by the flicker of the fire, after he had returned from his daily toil; but, after the cruel treatment he received, he used to come home so exhausted, that his head swam and his eyes failed when he tried to read; and he was fain to stretch himself down, with the others, in utter exhaustion.

Is it strange that the religious peace and trust, which had upborne him hitherto, should give way to tossings of soul and despondent darkness? The gloomiest problem of this mysterious life was constantly before his eyes, souls crushed and ruined, evil triumphant, and God silent. It was weeks and months that Tom wrestled, in his own soul, in darkness and sorrow. He thought of Miss Ophelia’s letter to his Kentucky friends, and would pray earnestly that God would send him deliverance. And then he would watch, day after day, in the vague hope of seeing somebody sent to redeem him; and, when nobody came, he would crush back to his soul bitter thoughts,that it was vain to serve God, that God had forgotten him. He sometimes saw Cassy; and sometimes, when summoned to the house, caught a glimpse of the dejected form of Emmeline, but held very little communion with either; in fact, there was no time for him to commune with anybody.

–Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom’s Cabin

Harriet Beecher Stowe schrieb u. a. „Onkel Toms Hütte“ 1852 und war zudem eine vehemente Verfechterin der Abschaffung der Sklaverei.
14. Juni 1811 – 1. Juli 1896 pic.twitter.com/1lLhcDlFqu

— H.P. (@Peine01) July 1, 2023

Gracious God, we offer thanks for the witness of Harriett Beecher Stowe, whose fiction inspired thousands with compassion for the shame and sufferings of enslaved peoples, and who enriched her writings with the cadences of The Book of Common Prayer. Help us, like her, to strive for thy justice, that our eyes may see the glory of thy Son, Jesus Christ, when he comes to reign with thee and the Holy Spirit in reconciliation and peace, one God, now and always. Amen.

"If I am to write, I must have a room to myself, which shall be my room." Harriet Beecher Stowe, born on this day in 1811 pic.twitter.com/fRvUQmRy9a

— Ray Boomhower (@RayBoomhower) June 14, 2022

Cormac McCarthy, who passed away today, ranks among the most important writers of fiction American society has ever produced. There is ample agreement on this point.

When it comes to interpreting the meaning of his work, though, there is much less consensus.

McCarthy handled big themes in his work, and that is true in his most recent novels: The Passenger and Stella Maris. These two books form a single narrative of siblings Alicia and Bobby Western’s extraordinary lives. We find here meditations on meaning and meaninglessness, human knowledge, death, spirituality, and the nature of the material world. Truth and beauty, reason and faith, love and sex: it’s all here. Mingled with these themes is obsessively detailed description of machines and contraptions of all sorts (especially guns and cars)—another perennial McCarthy interest.

Many critics read McCarthy’s novels the way they do so many other art forms: devoid of the possibility of hope, transcendence, and a living God. But this often glosses over the genuinely conflicted character of the art. The Passenger and Stella Maris offer more than just an artistic representation of reality’s inescapable brutality. They forcefully struggle with the greatest questions of human existence. Like any good work of art, these books don’t allow any reader—religious, atheist, materialist, Christian—to walk away feeling perfectly comfortable in their understanding of the world.

Read it all.

Cormac McCarthy and the Possibility of Faith https://t.co/hRDAPhETqs

— Public Discourse (@PublicDiscourse) June 17, 2023

Heavenly Father, who didst call thy servant Bede, while still a child, to devote his life to thy service in the disciplines of religion and scholarship: Grant that as he labored in the Spirit to bring the riches of thy truth to his generation, so we, in our various vocations, may strive to make thee known in all the world; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.

Today is the feast day of St Bede the Venerable.

Known as the 'Father of English history', Bede is considered one of the most learned men of his time. Did you know his final resting place is @durhamcathedral's Galilee Chapel? https://t.co/1qd8Irq7zT 📸 by @engcathedrals pic.twitter.com/JJe6g0vTKu

— This is Durham (@ThisisDurham) May 25, 2023

Older ways of thinking about life are more humane. I exist, not as a process or as some immovable modern substance, but as a woman, as a mother, with a certain age and height and history, with a certain store of knowledge and emotional responses. All these qualities are accidents, metaphysically speaking, but that does not make them unimportant. In fact, they are the stuff of my life. The becoming of accidents that come to be in me and pass away, as I enter into new friendships, learn new things, lose loved ones—all this is held in being by me as a personal substance. Accidents give me color and distinctiveness. I give them being.

All of this makes me legible to other human beings and thereby vulnerable to “categorical ­violence.” By allowing accidents—including my femininity—to make me legible, I allow them to delimit me; but they also reveal me to the world, to the community of embodied persons, who know me as formed in certain ways. Through knowing accidents, ­Aquinas writes, the intellect “penetrates to the interior” of the substance. The postmodern world is deathly afraid of being so transparent and vulnerable to others. But it has opened itself to other risks. The loss of the “home” of the stable self perpetually undermines contemporary people, who exist in a permanent, fluid exile. No wonder we, and our culture, are imprisoned within our obsessions with security and safety.

Butler’s trouble with sexed identity arises from her fear that stability opposes the permanent exile that is human life. Rather than being a word read from her body, she prefers to be the unfinished sentence, the perpetual refugee from sexed legibility. Of course, she is right that the intellect sometimes penetrates in order to colonize. But it is also the case that love begins with a true word, spoken and understood. What causes the most ­trouble—the sexed body—also initiates what is most dear.

Read it all.

"Butler’s trouble with sexed identity arises from her fear that stability opposes the permanent exile that is human life. Rather than being a word read from her body, she prefers to be the unfinished sentence, the perpetual refugee from sexed legibility." https://t.co/LPh4B7PX8c

— Ryan Haecker (@RyanHaecker) April 24, 2023

[David] Zahl argues that we are limited, doubled, self-centered creatures who spend far too much of our lives trying to evade this reality. We ignore our limitations, pretending that we are capable of far more than the constraints of time, biology, and historical context will allow. We minimize our doubleness, failing to perceive that our lives are governed by a jumbled mix of motivations that leads to an impasse between what we say we want and what we actually do. We explain away our self-centeredness, failing to see our own shortcomings while being quick to point out other people’s flaws.

Of course, these are not just religious phenomena; these types of behaviors characterize all spheres of life. Surely it does not take much imagination to see these impulses at work in the political sphere, for example. But there is grace to be found through an honest acceptance of these realities. We discover new opportunities for humility, unity, community, courtesy, humor, and compassion when we view our lives and the lives of others through such an honest lens. At this moment of extreme polarization in the United States, such fruits are welcome.

Zahl does an exceptional job of conveying difficult truths with grace and humor. His writing evinces a pastoral heart. His claims are made even more compelling by the wealth of anecdotes that he provides, drawing widely from both scholarly publications and popular culture to illustrate his points. On several occasions, I found myself stopping to check out links cited in the footnotes, which led me to some delightful YouTube rabbit holes. If Zahl is correct—and I think he is—the contemporary culture of the United States needs this kind of refreshing honesty more than ever.

Read it all.

The theological anthropologies implicit in our politics https://t.co/qB4leLki00

— James F. McGrath (@ReligionProf) March 14, 2023

The question of how to meditate effectively comes up often in Cave’s online forum, the Red Hand Files, which he launched in 2020. Named after one of his most famous songs, Red Right Hand (inspired by John Milton’s Paradise Lost, where the hand represents divine vengeance), it’s a place where a wide range of people, not only fans, write in to share their troubles and questions, and Cave writes back. The site has become almost a form of spiritual direction between Cave and his public. “One concern that comes through all the time,” he says, “is, ‘I want to be a creative person, but I don’t feel inspired.’ They’re just thinking that something’s going to drop out of the sky and sort of ignite their imagination. Creativity for me is a practice, a rite, an application.”

Its purpose is not self-expression, he says, but a way of “making space”. Cave talks in the book about how his 2019 album Ghosteen was an attempt to “make a space” for his son Arthur in the terrible period after his death.

“Yes, that is what I was doing,” he says. “Trying to find a place Arthur could inhabit. A place where his spirit could reside. Things, of course, are different now … I think I’ve learnt to both incorporate his absence and indeed his presence into my work, slowly finding other things to write about.” It’s become a question, he says, of finding a space “around” Arthur, not just “for” him.

This has led to him rediscovering what can only be described as joy, through “an altered connection to the world”: “spasms of delight”, a brightness uncovered in things, coexisting with the “dark, vacuous space” of loss. This is a joy that has nothing much to do with “feeling happy” or with satisfaction. “It’s there, despite ourselves … not attached to anything.” This double vision, Cave says, is fundamental to the religious impulse. It explains why in church he feels able to hold together both the doubt and pain and the sense of anchorage.

Read it all (registration or subscription).

‘The book reveals the way in which faith, without ever giving a plain, comforting answer, offers resources to look at what is terrible without despair or evasion. Cave’s faith is not that of a man looking for shortcuts or consolations.’ Wonderful interview https://t.co/QHcLj2hr8l

— Madeleine Davies (@MadsDavies) March 4, 2023

In Britain’s Jews Freedman seems notably at ease with himself, and merely amused by the kind of contrariness and kvetching that means those working in Jewish communal organizations find “everybody else knows how to do their job better than they do, and nobody is afraid to tell them so”. The author explores everything from the plight of the “chained wives” unable to obtain a religious divorce to “the Jewish psychedelic movement” (which believes that “chemically assisted mystical encounters are a normative part of Jewish spirituality”), from the EcoSynagogue project promoting carbon neutrality to the Jewish schools in which the majority of pupils are Muslims. He cites the success of Jewish Book Week, the annual Limmud educational festival and the JW3 cultural centre on London’s Finchley Road. The last of these is modelled on the Jewish community centres that are a notable feature of American life. While British Jewish buildings “tend to be discreet, barely visible, blending in with the environment”, Freedman says, JW3 has “a large, unmissable, gaudy sign on its façade … It deliberately shouts, ‘Look at us!’ JW3’s brash building is an essential part of its brand. It wants to be noticed”.

Another theme is the way Jewish institutions now reach out well beyond their core constituency to apply “Jewish values” to broader concerns. Successive chief rabbis Immanuel Jakobovits and Jonathan Sacks were both prominent figures in wider ethical debates in the UK; although Freedman doesn’t specifically mention him in this context, the incumbent, Ephraim Mirvis, is too. The main Jewish charities no longer focus solely on relieving Jewish suffering. World Jewish Relief, for example, works in Rwanda, and its president argues that “We helped refugees in the 1930s because they were Jewish, and we help refugees today because we are Jewish”. According to Trevor Pears of the Pears Foundation, a philanthropic fund “rooted in Jewish values”, volunteers may still enjoy “gap year programmes in Israel”, but it is “just as empowering Jewishly” to “go on a fact-finding mission … to Ghana”. XR Jews, a group within Extinction Rebellion, “consider non-violent civil disobedience to be a religious duty”, Freedman reports, since “their actions in defence of the environment are rooted in the Jewish value that prioritizes the saving of life over everything else”. And the very existence of a lobbying charity called Nahamu, specifically designed to “speak out against harms systematically arising in the haredi community”, points to a “new, more open, even self-critical, attitude” among British Jews.

Even when it comes to antisemitism, Freedman suggests that “the situation is not as grim as it is sometimes portrayed”. He cites a range of views about the former Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbyn, from a woman who, despite having what she describes as a “ridiculous English schoolgirl accent”, “began to feel like an alien in my own country, like the mask has been ripped away” during the recent period of Labour’s antisemitism crisis to those who believe that Corbyn was unfairly targeted by the right-wing press. Freedman clearly believes there was room for serious concern during the Corbyn years, yet he also puts a positive spin on the way Jews responded so forcefully to the perceived danger. While there has long been talk of a “Jewish vote” in the US, it was hostility to Corbyn, Freedman argues, that meant that, during the 2019 general election, “there was clear evidence of a Jewish vote” “for the first time in British history”.

Read it all.

'During the 2019 general election 'there was clear evidence of a Jewish vote’ ‘for the first time in British history'.' (@MatthewReiszTHE)https://t.co/BGB4p4Xfoe

— The TLS (@TheTLS) March 3, 2023

Some while ago, I picked up a book in a second hand bookshop. It was an old, slightly faded paperback with what looked like an intriguing title: The God I Want. Published in the late 1960s, it was a collection of essays by various public figures explaining the kind of God they could cope with, the God they could bring themselves to believe in.

None of them said they wanted a crucified God. The cross of Jesus simply bars the way to that approach by confronting us with something that so offends common sense that it makes us start back at square one. It directs us, at the start of our search for God to a scene which tells of the absence of God, the strange and counter-intuitive wisdom of God.

It tells us that if we are to find the true God, we need to give up our ideas of what God should be like and sit and listen for a while. It tells us that the journey to find God starts, not with human wisdom, human chattering and speculation on what kind of God we might like, what kind of God we can get our heads around, what kind of God we cm bring ourselves to believe in, but instead, we should stop talking, just for once. The journey to God begins in silence, not speculation.

–Graham Tomlin, Looking Through the Cross: The Archbishop of Canterbury’s Lent Book 2014 (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), pp.27-28

No 10 has announced that the Revd Dr Graham Tomlin will be the next Bishop of Kensington http://t.co/UJNJQklZ0a pic.twitter.com/oNMhYLgKhX

— London Diocese (@dioceseoflondon) July 2, 2015

The FBI’s purpose, according to Herbert N. Foerstel in his book “Surveillance in the Stacks,” was to demand details about library use by people from countries “hostile to the United States, such as the Soviet Union.” Agents tended to approach whoever was at the reference desk — often a student assistant or paraprofessional — and ask for names and other details of people who used the library to locate technical and scientific materials, such as engineering journals and publications of the National Technical Information Service. At the University of Wisconsin, according to Foerstel, agents watched a Soviet national reading the Russian newspaper “Pravda” and then asked a librarian if that copy “had been marked up.”

The rise in book bans, explained
The public was largely ignorant of these encounters until the case of Gennady Zakharov, a Russian-born United Nations aide who was indicted in 1986 for trying to transmit “unclassified information about [American] robotics and computer technology” to the Soviets. His source turned out to be a Guyanese college student who stole publicly available microfiche from several New York-area libraries and sold it to Zakharov.

The next year, the New York Times reported for the first time on the existence of the Library Awareness Program, calling it part of a national counterintelligence effort.

The FBI immediately tried to downplay the program’s significance. “Hostile intelligence has had some success working the campuses and libraries,” said James Fox, deputy assistant director of the New York FBI office, “and we’re just going around telling people what to be alert for.”

This explanation didn’t satisfy librarians. “We’re extremely concerned,” said Betsy Pinover, public relations director of the New York Public Library, “about intellectual freedom and the reader’s right to privacy, and are committed to protecting the privacy of our readers.” The New York Library Association and American Library Association issued similar statements. Rep. Major R. Owens (D-N.Y.), a former librarian, called it “a new low for the anti-intellectualism of the Reagan administration.” Cartoonists took aim; humorists made hay.

Read it all.

When the FBI Was Secretly Spying on People's Library Habits | @washingtonpost https://t.co/0jLhLJEkO9

— Publishers Weekly (@PublishersWkly) January 24, 2023

The farm labor history of California has often been told through the plight of agricultural laborers during the Depression era and the efforts, beginning in the early 1960s, of the United Farm Workers to improve working conditions of Mexicans in the fields.

But to Lloyd Barba, a professor of religion at Amherst College, this history isn’t complete without factoring in religion, particularly the stories of California’s Mexican farmworkers who embraced Pentecostalism, a Christian movement generally seen at the time as a “distasteful new sect” with “cultish and fanatical tendencies.”

“I think about how often Latino history is told as labor history, and that makes sense … but where are the laborers going?” Barba said. “If we’re going to get a more balanced and accurate Latino history, we have to look at Latino religious life.”

In his recently released book, Sowing the Sacred: Mexican Pentecostal Farmworkers in California, Barba writes about the Mexican and Mexican American Pentecostal agricultural workers who built houses of worship in the state’s agricultural towns, who turned to “divine healing” for injuries they sustained working in the fields and whose worship style inspired civil rights leader Cesar Chavez to incorporate music and singing in his union organizing.

Read it all.

Pentecostal laborers built houses of worship, turned to “divine healing” for injuries, and inspired Cesar Chavez to incorporate music into his organizing.https://t.co/ZkaDRVxOPB

— Christianity Today (@CTmagazine) January 23, 2023

An astonishing thing is happening at traditional, faith-based colleges. While national college enrollment has decreased by 13 percent over the last decade, these institutions have demonstrated that it is possible to emerge from COVID, economic recession, and a smaller national pool of applicants with record-breaking enrollment.

Take Thomas Aquinas College. When the school opened its doors in California a half-century ago, a handful of students were willing to take a chance on a novel curriculum that ditched textbooks and lectures in favor of student-led discussions of humanity’s greatest works. Far from sharing in the troubles of others, Thomas Aquinas College just celebrated the first graduating class at a brand new campus in Massachusetts. Expanding to New England helped double the school’s capacity without jeopardizing its low student-to-teacher ratio.

Benedictine College in Kansas likewise offers a Great Books program, and, thanks to the administration’s focused drive to return to the basics, the college’s enrollment doubled between 2004 and 2022. Furthermore, graduation rates jumped 28 percent as motivated students hungered for the challenge of the more rigorous and rewarding curriculum.

Read it all.

Institutions that have embraced a curriculum rooted in Western tradition—and the faith have discovered their programs have become more relevant, not less so, to a younger generation. | @JeremyTate41https://t.co/254Ny1p9oA

— First Things (@firstthingsmag) January 8, 2023

What was the most surprising thing you discovered in your research of St. Thomas?

That Thomas is a much more complicated man than often portrayed in secular and religious histories – infuriating, reckless, and yet calculating and even wise. In terms of his personality, he could be distant, officious. I was surprised at how few people loved him in life. Many respected and admired him, but it is said that only three people were known to have loved him: his mother, Henry II and Archbishop Theobald of Canterbury, his mentor. Thomas is known to have loved his mother, Henry II and Henry’s son, Henry, whom he educated in his house and considered a son. Thanks to the devotion which has built up in the centuries, Thomas was and is much loved by so many, but it is heart-breaking to think that he may not have had the experience of warm human relationships and may have meant he experienced great loneliness. But then, that may have been another reason for him to find refuge in God.

What do you think is the particular holiness of this saint?

If we had known Thomas in his time, we probably would not speak of his holiness. Those who knew him would not have considered him a Saint at all; it was his death that changed people’s view of him. But he had been growing in holiness, little by little. We could say that he was a man who, for all his public persona, was “hidden with Christ in God”, as he struggled to become a better man and a good bishop. He persisted, quietly and often painfully, giving himself to God in prayer and penance, consciously aware of his mistakes and pride.

His desire to be a good bishop came from his sense of duty; in the end, that sense of duty led him to realize that only the sacrifice of his life could bring peace. And he was prepared to offer that sacrifice. Thomas’ particular holiness was the hidden, daily struggle to be what Christ wanted him to be, and that drama was at the heart of the long journey from a man of ambition, an ordinary, decent Catholic, to a man prepared to die for Christ and the Church.

Read it all.

On his feast #otd 29 Dec: The Murder of Thomas Becket, page one, from a Book of c. 1430/40 by Nicolas Brouwer, #Bruges

(Art Institute Chicago)

A grisly precision at work here. pic.twitter.com/fe89YtwMGe

— John McCafferty (@jdmccafferty) December 29, 2022

‘It is always dangerous to draw too precise parallels between one historical period and another; and among the most misleading of such parallels are those which have been drawn between our own age in Europe and North America and the epoch in which the Roman Empire declined into the Dark Ages. None the less certain parallels there are. A crucial turning point in that earlier history occurred when men and women of good will turned aside from the task of shoring up the Roman imperium and ceased to identify the continuation of civility and moral community with the maintenance of that imperium. What they set themselves to achieve instead—often not recognising fully what they were doing—was the construction of new forms of community within which the moral life could be sustained so that both morality and civility might survive the coming ages of barbarism and darkness. If my account of our moral condition is correct [one characterized by moral incoherence and unsettlable moral disputes in the modern world], we ought to conclude that for some time now we too have reached that turning point. What matters at this stage is the construction of local forms of community within which civility and the intellectual and moral life can be sustained through the new dark ages which are already upon us. And if the tradition of the virtues was able to survive the horrors of the last dark ages, we are not entirely without grounds for hope. This time however the barbarians are not waiting beyond the frontiers; they have already been governing us for quite some time. And it is our lack of consciousness of this that constitutes part of our predicament. We are waiting not for a Godot, but for another—doubtless very different—St. Benedict.’

–Alasdair MacIntyre After Virtue (1981), pp. 244-245

Incarnate God, who didst grant the grace of eloquence unto thy servant Dorothy to defend thy truth unto a distressed church, and to proclaim the importance of Christian principles for the world; grant unto us thy same grace that, aided by her prayers and example, we too may have the passionate conviction to teach right doctrine and to teach doctrine rightly; We ask this in thy name, who livest and reignest with the Father, in the unity of the Holy Ghost, one God, for ever and ever.

"It is the neglect of dogma that makes for dullness."— Dorothy Sayers

Why is it that so many Catholic, including quite a few priests and bishops, don't understand and believe in 2022 what an Anglican lay woman understood and explained so well in 1938? https://t.co/k728wYZGun pic.twitter.com/j0Ri0HsrHs

— Carl E. Olson (@carleolson) November 11, 2022

One could object that it is not worthy of God to wield the sword. Is God not love, long-suffering and all-powerful love? A counter-question could go something like this: Is it not a bit too arrogant to presume that our contemporary sensibilities about what is compatible with God’s love are so much healthier than those of the people of God throughout the whole history of Judaism and Christianity? Recalling my arguments about the self-immunization of the evildoers, one could further argue that in a world of violence it would not be worthy of God not to wield the sword; if God were not angry at injustice and deception and did not make the final end to violence God would not be worthy of our worship. Here, however, I am less interested in arguing that God’s violence is not unworthy of God than in showing that it is beneficial to us. Atlan has rightly drawn our attention to the fact that in a world of violence we are faced with an inescapable alternative: either God’s violence or human violence. Most people who insist on God’s “nonviolence” cannot resist using violence themselves (or tacitly sanctioning its use by others). They deem the talk of God’s judgment irreverent, but think nothing of entrusting judgment into human hands, persuaded presumably that this is less dangerous and more humane than to believe in a God who judges! That we should bring “down the powerful from their thrones” (Luke 1:51-52) seems responsible; that God should do the same, as the song of that revolutionary Virgin explicitly states, seems crude. And so violence thrives, secretly nourished by belief in a God who refuses to wield the sword.

My thesis that the practice of nonviolence requires a belief in divine vengeance will be unpopular with many Christians, especially theologians in the West. To the person who is inclined to dismiss it, I suggest imagining that you are delivering a lecture in a war zone (which is where a paper that underlies this chapter was originally delivered). Among your listeners are people whose cities and villages have been first plundered, then burned and leveled to the ground, whose daughters and sisters have been raped, whose fathers and brothers have had their throats slit. The topic of the lecture: a Christian attitude toward violence. The thesis: we should not retaliate since God is perfect noncoercive love. Soon you would discover that it takes the quiet of a suburban home for the birth of the thesis that human nonviolence corresponds to God’s refusal to judge. In a scorched land, soaked in the blood of the innocent, it will invariably die. And as one watches it die, one will do well to reflect about many other pleasant captivities of the liberal mind.

–Miroslav Volf, Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon, 1996) pp. 303-304, cited by yours truly in the Sunday sermon

After the afternoon discussion with Yale Professors Ivo Banac and Miroslav Wolf #Decani #Monastery #rfpcourse #Kosovo pic.twitter.com/SOaDS0MKSY

— Dečani Monastery (@DecaniMonastery) August 16, 2013