on the authority of scripture

In the denomination I am part of, the situation concerning the debate over the Bible isn’t that different from what I belief exist in other places in the world. Within a popular environment “faith” is associated with a “high view of scripture” and a rejection of critical scholarship on the Bible. On the other hand “doubt” is associated with a “low view of scripture” and asking critical questions of the Bible.

There is however an obvious problem with this popular unpacking of two seemingly opposing views on the Bible. Wouldn’t true faith in the authority of scripture welcome loosening scripture from its parental ties of “divine inspiration”, stating that the ideas and arguments in the Bible, if taken seriously, can stand their own ground among the great literary, philosophical and religious traditions of history. And wouldn’t doubt in the authority of scripture require us to be all the more serious about its “divine inspiration”?

At this point criticism of the previous paragraph should point to the possibility of at least two other options (possibly more): That of critical engagement of the Bible with the exact purpose of pointing to the fact that it cannot stand it’s ground among the great literary, philosophical and religious traditions of history, and that of the faithful who critically engage the Bible in order to point to its divine inspiration. Both of these are self-refuting: Why even continue critical engagement with a text which cannot stand the text of time, and why even engage in proving divine inspiration to those who already believe in this inspiration (with this I need to mention that I believe that most modern-day apologetics are aimed at strengthening the faith of believers, not at converting the non-believers. If this were not true, why is it that conservative apologetics (all apologetics?) are mostly found in Christian bookshops and shelves?).

And is these last two examples not reactions against their opposites, rather than the natural result of their allies from the second paragraph? Critical engagement with the Bible with the sole purpose of pointing to its irrelevance, if continued indefinitely, is not really a continuation of the critical engagement with an authoritative and important text (in this context on the exact same level as other authoritative and important texts), but is a continued attempt to ridicule those who believe in divine inspiration. And Christian apologetics, if continued indefinitely, is not really a continuation of faithful belief in the divinely inspired text, but is a continued attempt at reacting against the criticism of academic study of the Bible.

These two then becomes the preached who preaches from the Bible against the usefulness of the Bible in modern society, or the academic which use the tools of the academy to point to the divine inspiration of the Bible, and to the fact that all we need is the Bible (but in both these acts the very acts in which is being participated argues against the statement being made).

I think a case can be made for those who doubt in the ability of the Bible as important text to stand its ground, and therefore remain true literalists, not attempting to explain the text against any background, and not taking random verses and sticking them together. Simply taking the text, the whole text, and nothing but the text as the Word of God (although I question whether such a position of radical doubt in the text and absolute faith in God who wrote the text is possible in our modern society).

Therefore I propose that we take the position of the absolute faithful. Putting the text out there on the marketplace, in the classroom. Opening it up for every possible criticism, for every literary and philosophical reading possible. This is faith. Facing the possibility that in this act you might be proven to be mistaken, but nonetheless acting out of your conviction. Only this act of radical criticism can be an act of radical faith in this modern society. And only through this can we find a text which has something to say for politics, philosophy, economics and spirituality.

Lenin’s advice to South African activists

The joke goes: Marx, Engels, and Lenin areasked whether they would prefer to have a wife or a mistress. As expected, Marx, rather conservative in private matters, answers, “A wife!” while Engels, more of a bonvivant, opts for a mistress. To everyone’s surprise, Lenin says, ‘I’d like to have both!” Why? Is there a hidden stripe of decadent jouisseur behind his austere revolutionary image? No-he explains: “So that I can tell my wife that I am going to my mistress, and my mistress that I have to be with my wife … ” “And then, what do you do?” “I go to a solitary place to learn, learn, and learn!” – Zizek, Violence, p8

This apparently was Lenin’s advice to young people asking him what they should do. This is also what Zizek suggest we do in our context of being bombarded with images of violence. And this, I suggest, is the advice those calling for change in South Africa need to hear.

In various ways we seem to be forced into facing two false choices (and sometimes only one false choice), into choosing immediately, while the complexity of what we face in actuality require that we learn, learn and learn.

One of my favorite examples I found in my undergraduate years*. In true undergraduate fashion (sadly lost upon many undergraduates) I occupied my time thinking about the critique which can be delivered onto the status quo: both within theology and society. Being a verbal thinking and possibly somewhat overconfident, I would at times even spend time on the preposterous activity of attempting to formulate these questions in the presence of those of senior years.

This would lead to the usual critical reactions, pointing to the problems in my young argument, educating the youth into the finer arts of political correctness etc (all of these lessons which has some form of value). But at times these questions would actually hit a nerve, question an element which all would know really is problematic within the status quo. Fighting from the corner, one strategy under such circumstances would be to force the young undergraduate into a false choice:

In very blatant fashion the conversation partner would simply state that before criticism of the reigning status quo might be delivered, an alternative should be put onto the table. Until the alternative choice was fully conceived and tested, criticism of the status quo should be left unsaid. But this very strategy actually points to the fact that not only the young undergraduate, but also the conversation partner need a third option: learn, learn, and learn. Using this strategy admits to the complexities that exist, and the fact that the options on the table isn’t sufficient in solving the problems. Neither the status quo, nor the quick alternative, seem to be viable options. Pushing for acceptance of the status quo through use of this kind of argument is not only a form of violence by those holding the dominant position, but also admitting that the current state of affairs is not sustainable.

Again, this calls both voices in the conversation, not just the one delivering the critique, to a third position: learn, learn, and learn. I believe this is the position we need in South Africa today, the element missing from our public conversations: those who commit to Lenin’s advice.

*This didn’t stop after my undergraduate years

I’m losing my humanity

Zizek says: “This is what you must be conscious of, that when you fight for your position, you at the same time fight for the universal frame of how your position will be perceived within this universal frame. This is for me, as every good feminist will tell you, the greatness of modern feminism. It’s not just we women want more. It’s we women want to redefine the very universality of what it means to be human. This is for me this modern notion of political struggle” – Marcus Pound

And we have to add that this is the case in every place where a dominant position which has become normalized (meaning that it is never in the position of being studies, being discussed, but always the position from which studies, discussions, and I dare say jokes, are being done) is being challenged.

Writing from a white, male, Afrikaner position, I am only too aware of how easy those in the normalized and/or dominant position translate the quest for liberation into a quest for “getting more stuff”. This, however, is an easy copout, a way of the easily identifiable examples which can be thrown into the face of those who are in the normalized position, without losing the privileged position of being “the most human”.

If we assume that the rich white male European (or is it American nowadays) position is the normal position of what it means to be “human”, and that all struggles are simply about the redistribution of  “stuff”, we miss the deep critique against the assumption of normality which woman, homosexuals, black and coloured, African (yes, I differentiate between black and African), previously colonized, voices bring onto the table. More than stuff, and more than simply another perspective which is but a variation on the normalized position (working from the idea that whatever the normalized group says is mostly universalizable, and others can simply change a few details to fit their views). It is a radical challenge against the normalized position, taking it from the throne of normality, challenging not merely the stuff, not merely a few details, but redefining what it means to be human.

And me, the white Afrikaner male? I can only find my own humanity if it is redefined by the voices which challenge my normality. To do this I would need to go through the hell of giving up this narrow perception of being human which I hold to. Lose my humanity so that I can truly find it. Die in order to live.

youth as priests and prophets

I find the expectations we have of youth in our congregations more and more interesting. In a congregation where the average member will attend church every second Sunday or so, the expectation remain that our youth should attend church, Sunday School, as well as one more “youth event” during the week. Add to this some Christian youth group at school during a break. Yet, we continue to bemoan the fact that their is a “crisis with our youth” on the one hand, and talking about how the next generation will transform the church or Christianity or moral life (I pointed to some example concerning gospel music and the reference to “‘n Nuwe Generasie” (Afrikaans) as well as youth and racial issues)

Maybe these are connected: our continued enforcement of religious activities on youth at a rate which few members of our congregations are willing or able to keep up with, as well as the continued insistence that the “next generation” will be the ones making all the difference. But this always remind me of that scene from Keeping the Faith where Brian and Jacob tells each other that Catholics and Jews want their Priests and Rabbi’s to be the Catholics and Jews that they could never be. Is this what we are doing with our children? Requiring them to be the Christians that we could never be? Asking of them to build the church that we could never build? If it is, then maybe we are using our youth to mediate salvation to us. If we can say that although we couldn’t do something (get over our racism, go to church 4 times a week, or whatever), as least we could create a next generation that could do this, then their might be some experience of salvation to be found in that. Youth then become Priests, where they perform some “sacrament” on our behalf, or at least provide the promise of performing on our behalf sometime in the future.

At the same time their are limits to what we would find acceptable in their act of taking Christian life to a deeper commitment. If, for example, this would mean that they become a voice of critique against the church that we have sold out (be it to ideologies of race, consumerism, private religion), but critique which not simply chastise us for our sins in a way we would expect of something like a medieval purgatory (thus providing some pain, and afterwards eternal pleasure), but rather in a way which would portray our deep betrayal of the vision of Jesus, or which would require us to actually change the way live life, challenge that which we never even think about (thus becoming a form of critique of ideology), I think our reactions would be somewhat different. No longer are they the Christians that we could never be, but suddenly they become idealistic and rebellious. When they become prophets rather than priests, when they call for change, rather than mediate salvation to us who didn’t change, then I wonder whether we would still talk about the wonders of the “next generation”.

The two are similar in the sense that we assume that a next generation would be closer to where we should be (if nothing else, at least a sign of hope, a form of eschatology in a sense, where the future calls us closer to some divinely inspired hope of what we might become), but where the first seek to strictly guide youth into becoming the Christians that we could never be, the second would require us to change ourselves, to open up spaces where we can be changes by the radical critique which a next generation always carry into the conversation (if we allow them).

I use the plural “we” to in a way write from the perspective of congregations as I experience them, also because I’m not so sure I’m not guilty of what I describe.