This article by Phil Zuckerman and Dan Cady at the Huffington Post is an example of the mischaracterization and failure to understand that I am discussing in this blog.
Zuckerman and Cady's thesis is that Evangelicals hate Jesus--or, rather, would hate Jesus if he were teaching today--because their political behaviors as primarily conservative Republicans makes them stand for everything that Jesus would be against: letting the poor go hungry and the sick go untended, believing in things like the death penalty.
While I wouldn't DISAGREE with Zuckerman and Cady entirely--I have met my fair share of religious individuals who place their political ideologies before their moral centers--I would have to argue that leaping from distrust of government as an entity and fear of concentrated power in a select few (which is what late-20th and early-21st century "conservatism" essentially entail), and allowing that distrust to be critical of attempts to centralize power for WHATEVER reason (even if it is to "feed the poor") because that centralized power could then be used for other, more nefarious purposes, and deducing from this that such people hate the poor or "hate" Jesus, is a massive leap in logic that is facilitated by Zuckerman and Cady's political position but NOT by their understanding of Christianity.
This is not to say that I think conservatism, Republicanism, and/or capitalism are good or right or God-given; I don't; but to equate Jesus's teachings with a political conception that ante-dates him by nearly 2000 years in order to make a political point is a stretch at best, disingenuous at worst.
There must be better, more accurate, more methodological ways to use Christ's teachings as a critical tool rather than merely using them to score self-centered political points.
Now, it would be disingenuous of me to criticize Zuckerman and Cady for being less-than-Christ-like and not seeking to understand, charitably, those they disagree with (or who disagree with them), and then for me to be less-than-Christ-like towards them in the same way.
So, if I were to ananlyze this from a Christ-centered perspective, how would I go about it? Would I suggest that they have judged unrighteously if for no other reason than that Evangelicals have often mis-represented "liberal" trust in "Big Government," and that, because they do not like such misrepresentation (which Zuckerman and Cady might argue is the result of a level of ignorance on the part of critics), then they should not engage in such misrepresentation, either? Should I address this by suggesting a conversation, one that assumes misunderstanding rather than misrepresentation, and seeks to peaceably explain and overcome the misunderstanding?
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Impro
I've been reading the work of Keith Johnstone, who I discovered at a conference on theatre history. In his book Impro, discussing education and the destructive effects it has on children, he writes the following:
"I began to think of children not as immature adults, but of adults as atrophied children" (25)
I could not help but think of Christ's injunction to be "converted" and "become as little children" in order to enter heaven (Matt. 18:3). To atrophy is to waste away, to decay. Christ asks us to de-atrophy, towork so that we might regenerate.
In order to perform in the world with anything approaching love we need to become like children again: full of wonder and humble. And that takes work; it takes effort to rebuild a decaying limb, and adulthood, education, maturation, is often the result of decay.
"I began to think of children not as immature adults, but of adults as atrophied children" (25)
I could not help but think of Christ's injunction to be "converted" and "become as little children" in order to enter heaven (Matt. 18:3). To atrophy is to waste away, to decay. Christ asks us to de-atrophy, towork so that we might regenerate.
In order to perform in the world with anything approaching love we need to become like children again: full of wonder and humble. And that takes work; it takes effort to rebuild a decaying limb, and adulthood, education, maturation, is often the result of decay.
Assumptions; Methodology
So, every critical perspective is founded on certain assumptions. What would those be for a Christ-ist Critical theory?
Moreover, what would a Christ-ist methodology look like?
Moreover, what would a Christ-ist methodology look like?
Christ’s philosophy (if we were to look at him as a philosopher, and why not?)[1] must be taken as separate from (but fundamental to) the various teachings, philosophies, “doctrines,” and organizations that have grown up from that initial set of teachings.
A Christ-centered critical methodology. . .what would that look like? What would it entail?
What would the Christian (or Christ-ic?) Critical Lens consist of?
What would the Christian (or Christ-ic?) Critical Lens consist of?
Would it need to be unbiased toward any particular denomination? Might it inadvertently legitimize some over others?
It would clearly need to be founded in the words of Christ as they have come to us in the Gospels--perhaps not even preferring the four "canonical" Gospels over apocryphal works, since the canonical Gospels are only canonical because a particular Christian organization at a particular time decided they should be canonical and that the others shouldn't be and what gives them the right, really? (Of course, in the same vein, if a particular audience REFUSED to accept a Christ-centered critical theorist because he or she was influenced by apocryphal works that would be the audience's right. . .HOWEVER, it really shouldn't matter since the ESSENCE of Christ's message is, I would argue, pretty fairly uniform across those gospels that claim to quote from him).[2]
My point here is that, before all other considerations, a Christ-centered methodology--a Christ-ic Critical Lens--would need to built out of the ideas expressed and expounded upon by Jesus, himself, and then that lens would be used to look at other things and try to understand them through it. For example, if we were to compare Christ’s ideas to the Communist Manifesto and the ideas of Marx (the foundation of modern critical theory)—where Marxists see all problems as arising from class struggle, I would argue that Christ saw all problems in the world arising from “imperfections” within individuals themselves.
These two lenses, then, provide very different jumping off points and will lead us to very different conclusions about justice and suffering and how such things should be addressed politically or artistically.
Politics, from a Christ-ic perspective, is not the problem of power struggles between different groups (classes) vying for freedom or control; rather, political problems arise from human failures to be “perfect”—or complete—in their inner, spiritual life. Humans refuse to be "poor in spirit," they refuse to be "mourn," they refuse to be "meek;" they hunger and thirst after their own self-interests rather than hungering and thirsting after "righteousness;" they are not "merciful," they are not "pure in heart," they are not "peacemakers." Our suffering, from this perspective, has nothing to with the "ownership of the means of production" (although, one could argue, ideology is certainly part of the problem), and the "dictatorship of the proletariat" certainly won't salve anything because it doesn't address the root cause of evil: human imperfection. "The glorious revolution" (as history attests), would merely replace one hegemonic tyranny with another (technically, Kenneth Burke, a dyed-in-the-wool Communist, warned the American Communist party about just this, but they reprimanded him, and he shut up; of course, Burke's own critical theory pointed to an entirely different cause of conflict, arguing that conflict originates in language itself, and humans, as the "symbol-using" and "symbol-abusing" animal were bound to create systems of conflict and injustice because we use language; again, here we have another lens through which we might look, but the Christ-ic Critical Lens would not draw us towards language, but deeper into the soul, with language being a reflection of what was going on inside).
Conflict in the world, then, from a Christ-centered perspective, will not cease simply by a redistribution of wealth and power because misuse of wealth and power themselves are consequences of humanity's imperfect state. Until all men and women become complete—or, at least, recognize that they are incomplete and agree to work towards completion--until humans individually become "converted" (transformed) from their "imperfect" state into a humble, submissive, loving state (Matt. 18:3), there will never be an end to political and class strife, regardless of how wealth is distributed, what political theory is in play, and how power is shared. Poverty, inequality, oppression: these are the result of human imperfection (and not just imperfection on the part of the rich), and will only end when a community is made up of perfected beings.
These two lenses, then, provide very different jumping off points and will lead us to very different conclusions about justice and suffering and how such things should be addressed politically or artistically.
Politics, from a Christ-ic perspective, is not the problem of power struggles between different groups (classes) vying for freedom or control; rather, political problems arise from human failures to be “perfect”—or complete—in their inner, spiritual life. Humans refuse to be "poor in spirit," they refuse to be "mourn," they refuse to be "meek;" they hunger and thirst after their own self-interests rather than hungering and thirsting after "righteousness;" they are not "merciful," they are not "pure in heart," they are not "peacemakers." Our suffering, from this perspective, has nothing to with the "ownership of the means of production" (although, one could argue, ideology is certainly part of the problem), and the "dictatorship of the proletariat" certainly won't salve anything because it doesn't address the root cause of evil: human imperfection. "The glorious revolution" (as history attests), would merely replace one hegemonic tyranny with another (technically, Kenneth Burke, a dyed-in-the-wool Communist, warned the American Communist party about just this, but they reprimanded him, and he shut up; of course, Burke's own critical theory pointed to an entirely different cause of conflict, arguing that conflict originates in language itself, and humans, as the "symbol-using" and "symbol-abusing" animal were bound to create systems of conflict and injustice because we use language; again, here we have another lens through which we might look, but the Christ-ic Critical Lens would not draw us towards language, but deeper into the soul, with language being a reflection of what was going on inside).
Conflict in the world, then, from a Christ-centered perspective, will not cease simply by a redistribution of wealth and power because misuse of wealth and power themselves are consequences of humanity's imperfect state. Until all men and women become complete—or, at least, recognize that they are incomplete and agree to work towards completion--until humans individually become "converted" (transformed) from their "imperfect" state into a humble, submissive, loving state (Matt. 18:3), there will never be an end to political and class strife, regardless of how wealth is distributed, what political theory is in play, and how power is shared. Poverty, inequality, oppression: these are the result of human imperfection (and not just imperfection on the part of the rich), and will only end when a community is made up of perfected beings.
[Such a thing seems impossible, its impossibility is no more a hindrance to its implementation than is the impossibility of fulfilling any other political/social/moral ideal. Republics, democracies, socialist and communist states, capitalisms, monarchies, social movements, critical theories: all of these are based on seemingly impossible ideals that are characterized as plausible by their proponents. Paul Woodruff, in his book First Democracy, articulates it thus: "I concede that a vision of democracy is not realistic, because it cannot be put fully into practice. But it is practical nonetheless, because" democracy as an ideal "can guide us towards reform or, at least, it can keep us from circling back. We can follow the North Star, travelling north, with no hope of reaching the star itself. But we do need to know the difference between the North Star and all the other bright lights twinkling overhead" (18). This, I would suggest is especially true for Christians seeking to embody a Christ-centered view of life; there are so many man-made lights out there, after all.]
Christianity, in that respect, is no different from any other conceptual ideal; it merely defines the locus of responsibility differently and systematizes progress towards that ideal somewhat differently.
Of course, material circumstances and political philosophies per se become less important to a Christ-centered critical theory than the inner lives of those living with political philosophies. This, I think, is what makes a Christ-centered critical theory so full of potential and possibility, as well as difficulty in implementation. Judgment, in a Christ-centered critical theory, must be turned inward, towards one's own soul; a person’s primary desire must be to perfect the inward being, a process which is then reflected in (and, I would add, influenced by) outward actions—be-haviors. However, critical theory is an outward-facing exercise: it looks at things through a lens of critical observation and develops opinions based on what it sees, and based on how what one sees conforms to the ideals which concave the lens.
This is a very difficult conundrum for a practitioner of critical theory. A critic wants to find what is wrong with the WORLD and fix it. Christ, however, taught people to see what was wrong with THEMSELVES, commanded them to fix that, and then told them to go out into the world and work in the world as new and improved creatures. Such a converted or transformed individual is to be "the salt of the earth" and a "light unto the world." They are supposed to make things better by BEING better themselves.
The paradox of Christ's teaching is that the concerns of this “temporal” world—the concerns of the body and of existing in the body in time—are simultaneously necessary and unnecessary to the perfection of the soul in equal amounts, and that the perfection of the soul and the perfection of the community are intimately connected. Unlike a Marxism or a feminism, for example, a Christ-centered person can become perfected no matter what his or her temporal circumstances. BUT it is only through perfect actions within temporal circumstances, and through interaction with others in those temporal circumstances, that inner perfection can be achieved.
Consider “The Widow’s Mite;” compare it to “The Rich Young Man.” These suggest that a poor person and a rich person can become equally perfect, but only in the same way: by dedicating their actions and their temporal resources—whatever those resources may be—wholly to the service of God and others. They must put off self-interest and become wholly dedicated to the interests of others.
With such a worldview, the Christian must be constantly on the look-out for where he or she can be of "service" to others, must be looking for those whom he or she can serve. This type of watching requires a critical eye--
But is it the critical eye of the critical theorist?
But is it the critical eye of the critical theorist?
I am not saying that a Christ-centered critical theory should ignore the realities of injustice that exist between the “classes” or in political systems merely because Christ’s teachings do not, as Abrams claims in Natural Supernaturalism, transfer “the locus of the primary concern with evil from the providential history of mankind to the providential history of the individual self,” thus “justify[ing] the experience of wrongdoing, suffering, and loss as a necessary means toward the greater good of personal redemption” (95). Christ merely insists that the evils of history cannot stop a person determined to find perfection and peace from finding it, and that if we want universal perfection and peace, it must begin within individuals, not within systems (Luke 17:21--"the kingdom of God is within you").
Indeed, Christ spoke often against the injustices perpetrated within his current system: the misuse of the Korban rule (Mark 7:9-13); let he who is without sin cast the first stone (John 8:7); my Father’s house is a house of prayer but you have turned it into a house of merchandise (John 2:16; Luke 19:46; Matt. 21:13); he also told people, however, to work towards perfection regardless of the system of injustice they were forced to live under: render unto Caesar (Matt. 22:21); respect the scribes and priests but do not emulate their actions (Matt. 23:2-5); go thy way and sin no more (John 5:14; 8:11).
The summum bonnum of all of this: "My kingdom is not of this world" (John 18:36) and so we must be in the the (material) world but not of the (material) world (John 15:19; see also 1 John 2:15-17 and Romans 12:2).
The summum bonnum of all of this: "My kingdom is not of this world" (John 18:36) and so we must be in the the (material) world but not of the (material) world (John 15:19; see also 1 John 2:15-17 and Romans 12:2).
Personal perfection was seen as a more important "fix" than fixing the system--indeed, its is seen as the ultimate and only way to actually fix the system!
Perhaps this is because:
Perhaps this is because:
1.) personal perfection is a manageable goal since the self is something an individual has influence over
2.) systems can only be changed by people, and if those people changing the system aren’t focused themselves on moving towards moral perfection, you’ll just wind up with another system where imperfect people exploit the system, exploit others, and injustice ultimately reigns.
Moreover, the only thing one really has any influence over is one's self--and when you get many selfs who are working towards perfection, and who see working towards perfection as something that must be carried out in one's day-to-day walk (and talk) in the world, then these individuals will naturally be working together to "convert" their society from an imperfect to a perfect one.
And they will be doing so by exercising "right action" in the temporal world (sorry, Buddha; borrowing your phrase here). Such people cannot help but "convert" that society, in time, because that change will happen as the natural result of the changed individuals who inhabit that society.
I know, I know: how does one define "perfection?" How does one deal with those who refuse to "perfect" themselves?
The classical questions concerning Utopias all pop into our heads. But they don't stop us from pursuing the democratic ideal; they didn't (and don't) stop socialists and communists and free-market capitalists from pursuing their ideals.
Moreover, does the difficulty of obtaining Utopia mean that it is unattainable? Perhaps the Christ-ic Critical Lens is just what has been missing from these other pursuits of Utopia, that critical theory that focuses on the perfection of the human soul, so that socialism, or communism, or capitalism might actually have a chance.
A good portion of the "scriptures" is dedicated to a discussion of just those complexities.
And they will be doing so by exercising "right action" in the temporal world (sorry, Buddha; borrowing your phrase here). Such people cannot help but "convert" that society, in time, because that change will happen as the natural result of the changed individuals who inhabit that society.
I know, I know: how does one define "perfection?" How does one deal with those who refuse to "perfect" themselves?
The classical questions concerning Utopias all pop into our heads. But they don't stop us from pursuing the democratic ideal; they didn't (and don't) stop socialists and communists and free-market capitalists from pursuing their ideals.
Moreover, does the difficulty of obtaining Utopia mean that it is unattainable? Perhaps the Christ-ic Critical Lens is just what has been missing from these other pursuits of Utopia, that critical theory that focuses on the perfection of the human soul, so that socialism, or communism, or capitalism might actually have a chance.
A good portion of the "scriptures" is dedicated to a discussion of just those complexities.
A good place to start (as I suggested above) is probably the Beatitudes (Matt. 5)--in fact, the entirety of the Sermon on the Mount (Matt. 5-7--even though I would argue that Christ's critical ideal is apparent throughout the body of his teachings).
Does this, though, bring us any closer to solving the conundrum for a critical theorist, like myself, who wants to exercise critical theory as an extension of the Christ ideal?
Well, to put this methodology to use as an example case, I could do a Christ-ic reading of the Communist Manifesto.
But that gets us into an actual application of a Christ-ic critical analysis, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that. I've only just begun to explore what a Christ-ic critical lens would be built out of; I have yet to really develop anything approaching a system that could be arguably called a "critical theory."
So application will have to wait.
But that gets us into an actual application of a Christ-ic critical analysis, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that. I've only just begun to explore what a Christ-ic critical lens would be built out of; I have yet to really develop anything approaching a system that could be arguably called a "critical theory."
So application will have to wait.
[1] This, of course, is where any Christ-centered critical theory gets tricky, anyway; for practically two-thousand years a battle has been raging over who owns Christ—as though he is merely a dead celebrity whose image and words can be used in advertising. This point will have to be expanded in an entry all its own at a later date.
[2] One need not even necessarily believe that Jesus is the Son of God to see this. While I am not saying I think of him as merely a philosopher, along the lines of the Jesus Seminar, I still assert that those who do could still practice, and benefit intellectually and materially, from the findings of a Christ-ic criticism. Moreover, the teachings of Christ and the teaching sof those who claim to be his disciples are not necessarily one and the same (even though, clearly, the ideas of the latter are informed by the former); one is not obliged to view Christ's teachings through the lens of the two thousand years of doctrine/dogma that has developed from his teachings (though we cannot merely ignore it, either, anymore than a Marxist can effectively ignore Stalin or Castro).
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Towards Developing a Christ-ic Critical Lens
What would a Christ-centered Critical Theory even look like? Would it be redundant (i.e., is there something else out there already doing what it would do)? What would is be used for?
What about models? Is the medieval period the place to look for a model of such a thing (I am only glancingly familiar with this period)? Do I look to the different writers of the different Testaments (very, very familiar with these)? To the early Church Fathers (I am mostly familiar with random quotes--excepting Augustine: I've read the Confessions and City of God)? To Puritans such as William Bradford (I've read Of Plymouth Plantation)? To modernists such as C. S. Lewis (I've read some of The Chronicles of Narnia, The Screwtape Letters, a discourse he gave entitled "The Inner Ring," and various quotes)? All of these together? None of them at all?
If I am to employ a Christ-ic critical lens (so to speak), I suppose that I will have to come to terms with all of these, just as a Marxist scholar must come to terms with, and be familiar with, Stalinism and Leninism. However, that does not mean that I must accept any of them.
And with that statement, we begin a framework for a Christ-ic critical lens.
For a scholar who's ideas are founded upon the teachings of Jesus, Jesus's ideas must be the principle source and model of ideas, the origin of all other assumptions.[1] Indeed, each of the previously mentioned interpreters of Jesus's words must, themselves, be evaluated and critiqued according to the teachings of Jesus, and not the other way around (even the teachings that purport to be the teachings of of Jesus must be evaluated in terms of the teachings of Jesus); regardless of what other interpretations of his teachings have been passed around, I cannot accept those interpretations on their own merits, any more than a Marxist scholar should confuse Marxism with its Stalinist and Leninist (or even Lennon-ist) interpretations.
And with that statement, we begin a framework for a Christ-ic critical lens.
For a scholar who's ideas are founded upon the teachings of Jesus, Jesus's ideas must be the principle source and model of ideas, the origin of all other assumptions.[1] Indeed, each of the previously mentioned interpreters of Jesus's words must, themselves, be evaluated and critiqued according to the teachings of Jesus, and not the other way around (even the teachings that purport to be the teachings of of Jesus must be evaluated in terms of the teachings of Jesus); regardless of what other interpretations of his teachings have been passed around, I cannot accept those interpretations on their own merits, any more than a Marxist scholar should confuse Marxism with its Stalinist and Leninist (or even Lennon-ist) interpretations.
Since we are working out definitions, perhaps it would be best to start with some definitions.
I know I'll get some flack for using Wikipedia (although it is increasingly acceptable in academic circles), but their definition of "Critical Theory" will suffice. Critical theory is defined there as "an examination and critique of society and culture, drawing from knowledge across the social sciences and humanities." From this very broad definition, we get that critical theory is simply criticism, or close evaluation, of anything--art, culture, politics--that is founded upon some theoretical framework. This definition gels quite well with the illustrious M. H. Abrams definition of critical theory as it is applied specifically to literature, where "literary criticism" is an "overall term for [. . .] defining, classifying, analyzing, interpreting, and evaluating" literature and "theoretical criticism proposes an explicit theory of literature, in the sense of general principles" that direct both the production and evaluation of literature (A Glossary of Literary Terms, 7th ed., 49-50).
Any critical theory, then—whether it is applied merely to literature or to something broader—is based upon some "theory" [2] or another about how social systems should be structured, how they should function, and whether or not they are accomplishing those goals. That theory, in turn, is itself based upon a set of assumptions about the world--how it should work, how people should act, etc. .
So, for example: feminism (I could have used any theoretical framework--if you want to explore others, look here). Despite all the bad press it gets, feminism at its simplest is a social theory claiming that women, historically and/or actually, have been unequal to men in their "political, economic, and social rights and [. . .] opportunities" (Wikipedia), and thinks or feels that this is not a good thing. Ostensibly, then, the efforts of "feminists" are designed to rectify that perceived wrong.
Feminist critical theory is a framework (or a group of frameworks) based on this initial (and, I would argue, not irrational) assumption. So, when feminists look at art, or politics, or culture, with an eye to analyze and evaluate, they look through that particular theoretical "lens;" they seek expose (and often vilify) with the intent to rectify, perceived injustices between the sexes. That these inequalities are realities is a given assumption for a feminist. That these inequalities are bad is an equally given assumption.
Moreover, Marxist critical theory assumes that Karl Marx was right when he proposed his ideas about culture and the causes of inequality. Marxists assume that Capitalism is to blame for inequality; they assume inequality of opportunity is a reality and that it is bad and that it is a wrong that need to be rectified.
I could go on and on with other examples but hopefully this suffices.
So, from this basic template, I can begin to get a sense of what would need to happen in order to develop a Christ-centered critical theory, and what that theory would entail, something I'll get into in the next entry.
[1] I am well aware that NONE of the writings that we have are Jesus’s writings; however, this poses only minimal problems for examining the world critically from a Christian perspective. While there are assumptions that must be made—the charitable assumption, for example, that the Gospel writers are genuine and that they were genuinely attempting to present Jesus’s teachings as sincerely and authentically as possible, rather than merely presenting a self-serving interpretation of his teachings—and while I can see how such assumptions could be problematic to some, but I do not think that they are any more problematic than the accepting a Marx or a Burke or a Derrida as one’s primary critical perspective. In fact, such assumptions would only make Christianity one more critical voice in what Gerald Graff has characterized as the “conflicts” in academic discourse.
[2] The word “theory” has an interesting and, I think, pertinent etymology, what Samuel Weber refers to as a “well-known an often-discussed fact” that was neither well known nor often discussed for me until I read his book Theatricality as Medium, that is the fact that the terms “theory” and “theatre” come from the same place: “the Greek word thea, designating a place fro which to observe or see” (2-3). It is reasonable, then, that a “theory”—itself a metaphoric construct—is now explicated by an appeal to the another sight-centric metaphor: the “lens.” Theories figuratively focus and define our intellectual vision, our way of seeing, helping us know not only what to look at, but determining how we what we are looking at. A theory is, itself, a medium, and could be defined as a cognitive framework from which one "looks at," or intellectually understands and interprets, the world.
I'm Mormon.
I should get this out there early on: I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.
I'm not trying to hide this fact, I just didn't think to say it. Now that I think about it, however, I know that if I don't say it, when it's finally revealed--and it will be, I'm not embarrassed or ashamed of the fact--it may come as a shock, since my project is the development of a "Christian," or Christ-centered, critical theory. I know that there are people out there who don't consider Mormons to be real Christians; for them, my religious affiliation will have immense bearing on anything I say.
For me personally that opinion is irrelevant. I consider myself a Christian.
However, I've met with enough prejudice and misconception about Mormons in my lifetime to know that, if I don't say this now, inevitable someone will say "see how sneaky those Mormons are! They pretend to be Christian to reel you in! You can't trust them!" I don't want to come across as disingenuous or manipulative, so I'll just get this out of the way up front.
Now you know. People interested in the kinds of fights that my religious affiliation unavoidably engenders will just go elsewhere, I guess.
If anyone ever comes here at all. . .
(cue sound of crickets chirping)
Is this thing on?
I'm not trying to hide this fact, I just didn't think to say it. Now that I think about it, however, I know that if I don't say it, when it's finally revealed--and it will be, I'm not embarrassed or ashamed of the fact--it may come as a shock, since my project is the development of a "Christian," or Christ-centered, critical theory. I know that there are people out there who don't consider Mormons to be real Christians; for them, my religious affiliation will have immense bearing on anything I say.
For me personally that opinion is irrelevant. I consider myself a Christian.
However, I've met with enough prejudice and misconception about Mormons in my lifetime to know that, if I don't say this now, inevitable someone will say "see how sneaky those Mormons are! They pretend to be Christian to reel you in! You can't trust them!" I don't want to come across as disingenuous or manipulative, so I'll just get this out of the way up front.
Now you know. People interested in the kinds of fights that my religious affiliation unavoidably engenders will just go elsewhere, I guess.
If anyone ever comes here at all. . .
(cue sound of crickets chirping)
Is this thing on?
Others I have found. . .
Doing some web searching, I have found the following:
Carl P. E. Springer, Professor of Classics and Chair in the Department of Foreign Languages at Illinois State University, published a paper called "The Hermeneutics of Innocence:Literary Criticism from a Christian Perspective." I haven't read the whole thing, but Springer seems to suggest that a Christ-centered criticism would be more affirmative than the negativity that permeates contemporary critical theory. In the essay, Springer claims that current critical theories are based on a "hermeneutics of suspicion" which is, essentially, "distrustful in its methodology." A Christ-centered methodology, on the other hand, would be a methodology "of innocence" that would take writers at their word; it would be a charitable reading of everything.
While interesting, at this point all I can say is that this comes across as overly narrow for a Christ-centered critical theory. After all, Jesus did tell his disciples to be "wise as serpents" because he was sending his disciples out as "sheep in the midst of wolves" (Matt. 10:16), and something tells me sheep don't walk in the midst of wolves with any kind of wide eyed innocence or naivete.
There is also a book, Towards a Christian Literary Theory, by Luke Ferreter, published by in 2003 by Palgrave Macmillan. I haven't read it (it's pretty darn expensive on Amazon), but there is a really good review of the book by Susan E. Hill here.
Here, Dennis Taylor, a professor from Boston College, writes about "The Need for a Religious Literary Criticism." He argues that the lack of a religious voice in academic discourse has created "a great vacuum in discussions of spirituality in literature [. . .]" and provides some examples of what that might look like--or, at least, some examples of what the"vacuum" looks like, the questions that remain unanswered in literary criticism because there is no investigation of spirituality from the perspective of spirituality.
Also, I found a podcast on "Literary Criticism" at a site called The Christian Humanist. I haven't listened to or read any of it because--well, because I just started this and, at some point, I do have to get back to work! But I plan to.
Beyond these few, specific examples that I found (today), I also know that there are MANY academic journals on religion, but my question for them is: do they use religion as a critical lens, or do they use other critical lenses to investigate religion (or both)?
I really don't know that much about the religious journals, however--or religious studies, for that matter. I am not a scholar of religion. I am not a religious educator (except to my children and the occasional stint in Sunday School). I do not use religion overtly in my art.
Quite frankly, I never wanted to be a religious scholar, either. I don't speak any ancient languages, I have no special training in that field.
I do, however, believe that Jesus is the Messiah, and the Son of God, and I am comfortable with my faith as a bedrock for behavior and morality. What is new to me is this idea that there might be some room for me, as a scholar and an artist and an educator, for Christ's teachings to no longer be a kind of appendage, but the foundation, of my work--making the stone that builders rejected become the head of the corner, so to speak.
I think that's should be an adequate place to start.
Carl P. E. Springer, Professor of Classics and Chair in the Department of Foreign Languages at Illinois State University, published a paper called "The Hermeneutics of Innocence:Literary Criticism from a Christian Perspective." I haven't read the whole thing, but Springer seems to suggest that a Christ-centered criticism would be more affirmative than the negativity that permeates contemporary critical theory. In the essay, Springer claims that current critical theories are based on a "hermeneutics of suspicion" which is, essentially, "distrustful in its methodology." A Christ-centered methodology, on the other hand, would be a methodology "of innocence" that would take writers at their word; it would be a charitable reading of everything.
While interesting, at this point all I can say is that this comes across as overly narrow for a Christ-centered critical theory. After all, Jesus did tell his disciples to be "wise as serpents" because he was sending his disciples out as "sheep in the midst of wolves" (Matt. 10:16), and something tells me sheep don't walk in the midst of wolves with any kind of wide eyed innocence or naivete.
There is also a book, Towards a Christian Literary Theory, by Luke Ferreter, published by in 2003 by Palgrave Macmillan. I haven't read it (it's pretty darn expensive on Amazon), but there is a really good review of the book by Susan E. Hill here.
Here, Dennis Taylor, a professor from Boston College, writes about "The Need for a Religious Literary Criticism." He argues that the lack of a religious voice in academic discourse has created "a great vacuum in discussions of spirituality in literature [. . .]" and provides some examples of what that might look like--or, at least, some examples of what the"vacuum" looks like, the questions that remain unanswered in literary criticism because there is no investigation of spirituality from the perspective of spirituality.
Also, I found a podcast on "Literary Criticism" at a site called The Christian Humanist. I haven't listened to or read any of it because--well, because I just started this and, at some point, I do have to get back to work! But I plan to.
Beyond these few, specific examples that I found (today), I also know that there are MANY academic journals on religion, but my question for them is: do they use religion as a critical lens, or do they use other critical lenses to investigate religion (or both)?
I really don't know that much about the religious journals, however--or religious studies, for that matter. I am not a scholar of religion. I am not a religious educator (except to my children and the occasional stint in Sunday School). I do not use religion overtly in my art.
Quite frankly, I never wanted to be a religious scholar, either. I don't speak any ancient languages, I have no special training in that field.
I do, however, believe that Jesus is the Messiah, and the Son of God, and I am comfortable with my faith as a bedrock for behavior and morality. What is new to me is this idea that there might be some room for me, as a scholar and an artist and an educator, for Christ's teachings to no longer be a kind of appendage, but the foundation, of my work--making the stone that builders rejected become the head of the corner, so to speak.
I think that's should be an adequate place to start.
I know what I am doing is nothing new. . .well, not exactly new. . .
So, I'm not the first to have thought that this would be important (imagine that! There really is nothing new under the sun!). In fact, even before I started this I could go way back to the beginning of the common era (St. Augustine pops immediately to mind) and find people who used the teachings of Christ as a foundation for their "critical theory," a tradition that would take us through some of the greatest poets and thinkers in history, right up through modern times--Peter Abelard, Dante Alighieri, Thomas More, John Milton, Nathaniel Hawthorne--with the he most obvious respected modern critical voice being C. S. Lewis (perhaps the preeminent model to imitate in this regard?).
But my chief concern was finding a contemporary place for a Christ-centered critical perspective, a place for Christ within the contemporary academic landscape that sees Jesus not as a mythic concept, or a political flash-point, or as a knee-jerk ideological rallying cry, but as a teacher whose insights into the human condition have at least as much to value as the insights of a Freud or a Marx or a Derrida, and so are equally valid as a foundation for a critical theory.
Truth be told, knowing I'm not alone really relieves a lot of anxiety. If I'm not alone in this, then that means
1.) I don't have to start from scratch (whew!)
2.) there are others who think this is an thing to be talking about (so I have a potential audience, potentially receptive audience).
Basically, there's already a conversation here, I'm just coming into the parlor to add my voice to the conversation.
What do I have to add? Ah, there's the rub.
I guess I'm looking for cross-over appeal. While the majority of religious people in the world are Christian, and the majority of people in the world are religious, the academic world still seems to view a religious critical perspective as overly biased and unscientific. Nevermind that feminism is unscientific and biased. Nevermind that Marxism is biased and unscientific. Nevermind that historicism and performance studies and semiotics are all biased and unscientific. Nevermind that most secular humanists are not "scientists" in the strict sense of the word (and,one could argue, neither are most "scientists") but they are biased, agenda-driven human beings whose prosaic stylistics are merely structured to convey the illusion of detached objectivism.
So can Christ's teachings be utilized in the same way? The same way that a scholar or an educator or an artist might use Marx, or Freud, or Hegel, or Derrida, or Butler, or any other secular-humanist prophet? Just because a person doesn't name their belief system or their philosophical perspective a "religion" doesn't mean it isn't one--I mean, we're much too rhetorically sophisticated by this point to fall for that, aren't we?
But my chief concern was finding a contemporary place for a Christ-centered critical perspective, a place for Christ within the contemporary academic landscape that sees Jesus not as a mythic concept, or a political flash-point, or as a knee-jerk ideological rallying cry, but as a teacher whose insights into the human condition have at least as much to value as the insights of a Freud or a Marx or a Derrida, and so are equally valid as a foundation for a critical theory.
Truth be told, knowing I'm not alone really relieves a lot of anxiety. If I'm not alone in this, then that means
1.) I don't have to start from scratch (whew!)
2.) there are others who think this is an thing to be talking about (so I have a potential audience, potentially receptive audience).
Basically, there's already a conversation here, I'm just coming into the parlor to add my voice to the conversation.
What do I have to add? Ah, there's the rub.
I guess I'm looking for cross-over appeal. While the majority of religious people in the world are Christian, and the majority of people in the world are religious, the academic world still seems to view a religious critical perspective as overly biased and unscientific. Nevermind that feminism is unscientific and biased. Nevermind that Marxism is biased and unscientific. Nevermind that historicism and performance studies and semiotics are all biased and unscientific. Nevermind that most secular humanists are not "scientists" in the strict sense of the word (and,one could argue, neither are most "scientists") but they are biased, agenda-driven human beings whose prosaic stylistics are merely structured to convey the illusion of detached objectivism.
So can Christ's teachings be utilized in the same way? The same way that a scholar or an educator or an artist might use Marx, or Freud, or Hegel, or Derrida, or Butler, or any other secular-humanist prophet? Just because a person doesn't name their belief system or their philosophical perspective a "religion" doesn't mean it isn't one--I mean, we're much too rhetorically sophisticated by this point to fall for that, aren't we?
Degenerate Moderns
So, I didn't think I could be alone in this endeavor. I've found some other people who are doing the same thing that I am--or, similar, at least.
Some time ago, I read a book called Degenerate Moderns: Modernity as Rationalized Sexual Misbehavior by a scholar named E. Michael Jones, a former professor at Saint Mary's College in Indiana and currently the editor of Culture Wars magazine. He is clearly Catholic (the book was put out by Ignatius Press) and his ideas are obviously--and this is KEY, that the fact IS so obvious--informed by his Catholicism.
Of course, he was also a tenured professor at the time of his publication.
I never looked into anything else he published, and at the time I read the book, I read it simply as an interesting perspective on Modernism, not as anything I would use in, say, a dissertation, since, when I read, I was attempting to integrate myself into the academic world (a choice I increasingly question), and so thought that the ideas expressed therein were only interesting to me as a Christian, not as a potential scholar.
Now, however. . .now that I am approaching my dissertation, as, perhaps, all PhDs do, with some trepidation, with a sense of uncertainty about my ideas; now that I am in a place where I am questioning the futility of what I have decided will be my life's work; now that I am beginning to see, in profound ways, the emptiness of academic life; now my religion, which I have, up until this time, separated from my academics by a high wall, I am beginning to recognize, is the missing something in everything that I have been doing.
And so I began this blog.
And then I remembered Dr. Jones and his "Degenerate Moderns."
Now, my own perspective will not be a "Catholic" one. Indeed, the whole purpose of this is to try and transcend the sectarianism of contemporary Christianity and develop a theoretical lens that is useful across Christian demoninations.
That being said, Dr. Jones's work seems like a good place to start.
Some time ago, I read a book called Degenerate Moderns: Modernity as Rationalized Sexual Misbehavior by a scholar named E. Michael Jones, a former professor at Saint Mary's College in Indiana and currently the editor of Culture Wars magazine. He is clearly Catholic (the book was put out by Ignatius Press) and his ideas are obviously--and this is KEY, that the fact IS so obvious--informed by his Catholicism.
Of course, he was also a tenured professor at the time of his publication.
I never looked into anything else he published, and at the time I read the book, I read it simply as an interesting perspective on Modernism, not as anything I would use in, say, a dissertation, since, when I read, I was attempting to integrate myself into the academic world (a choice I increasingly question), and so thought that the ideas expressed therein were only interesting to me as a Christian, not as a potential scholar.
Now, however. . .now that I am approaching my dissertation, as, perhaps, all PhDs do, with some trepidation, with a sense of uncertainty about my ideas; now that I am in a place where I am questioning the futility of what I have decided will be my life's work; now that I am beginning to see, in profound ways, the emptiness of academic life; now my religion, which I have, up until this time, separated from my academics by a high wall, I am beginning to recognize, is the missing something in everything that I have been doing.
And so I began this blog.
And then I remembered Dr. Jones and his "Degenerate Moderns."
Now, my own perspective will not be a "Catholic" one. Indeed, the whole purpose of this is to try and transcend the sectarianism of contemporary Christianity and develop a theoretical lens that is useful across Christian demoninations.
That being said, Dr. Jones's work seems like a good place to start.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Jesus's Teachings as Critical Lens
I am a Christian.
I am not a Marxist or a feminist or a deconstructionist. I am not a liberal or a neo-liberal or a conservative. I am not a monarchist or an oligarchist or an anarchist or any other political “ist.”
I am a Christian.
While this is all well and good in my personal-private life, I feel there is no room for Christ in my "public" life as an educator, scholar, and artist. As "secular" enterprises in a secularized Western world, academics and the arts resist religious critical perspectives. What is unfortunate about this is that I have been forced to adopt an academic and artistic "mask" of sorts, to look through secularized spectacles instead of being allowed to describe the world as I see it, through my own, more authentic, Christ-colored glasses. Academics and artists who ascribe to these other ideological perspectives find outlets for their critical theorizing--consider bell hooks, the acclaimed Black feminist; or Theodor Adorno, the Marxist critic. Indeed, in critical theory, we are taught how one might use any number of secular-humanist perspectives as a “lens” through which to do scholarship, to see and analyze the world. These critical theories are meant to empower one's educational practice, to direct one's scholarship, to inform one's art. In most cases, the perspective are acceptable, publishable, teachable, and (depending on my audience) laudable one.
But not so, I sense, with my Christianity. Not to fall into the all-too-familiar Christian persecution complex, but I sense if I attempted to teach and embody a Christ-informed critical perspective, I would encounter significantly more resistance in the public sphere--NOT to my ideas, which would encounter resistance no matter what they were, but to my choice of critical perspective.
Perhaps I am wrong, but I sense if I were to use Christianity as the lens through which I did my research (I unavoidably read everything through this ideological lens, anyway, whether it makes it into my actual writing or not), I would not be publishable or hireable.[1] I would be outcast.
But not so, I sense, with my Christianity. Not to fall into the all-too-familiar Christian persecution complex, but I sense if I attempted to teach and embody a Christ-informed critical perspective, I would encounter significantly more resistance in the public sphere--NOT to my ideas, which would encounter resistance no matter what they were, but to my choice of critical perspective.
Perhaps I am wrong, but I sense if I were to use Christianity as the lens through which I did my research (I unavoidably read everything through this ideological lens, anyway, whether it makes it into my actual writing or not), I would not be publishable or hireable.[1] I would be outcast.
Well, that last comment may be a little harsh. In truth, everyone I work with knows my religious affiliation—I make sure of it—and I have yet to receive any real feelings of exclusion or prejudice because of it. Indeed, one of my favorite colleagues is a woman whose lifestyle and politics are completely opposed to my own. . .granted, I’m not certain how much she knows I disagree with her in specifics, but she must have an idea.
No, the truth, I think, is simply this: if I was to attempt to publish as a “Christ-ist critic,” the secular-humanist academic world just wouldn’t know what to do with me.
So, since I don't feel a place for me there, I've come here. I'll write, and I'll attempt to develop myself as a "Christ-centered" scholar on my own time, in my own space, under an assumed name, and. . . I don't know. I'll see what happens.
[1] A work on rhetoric that came out recently—Rhetoric, Science, and Magic in Seventeenth Century England by Ryan J. Stark—seems to be written from a Christian-informed rhetorical theoretical perspective. Are there more writings like this?
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