“She spun away, lost in the place where kids don’t even know their feet are moving.”*
Thought by the narrator after 83 year old Eddie, the protagonist, made a pipe-cleaner animal for a little girl.
The innocence and carefree-ness of children. The image, the feeling, the idea of that place where we are so involved, so rapturously involved, that our minds know nothing else. Our bodies do what they are supposed to do – we spin away – but we are completely unaware of those bodily movements. Imagine, or remember if we can. The simple joy of a pipe-cleaner animal, of running to who-knows-where but running nevertheless, of not worrying – oh, that all encompassing freedom enveloping us as we swim in the sense of what is possible.
God says to not worry, to be childlike in our faith, to know the sense of security in that He will care for our needs, to move in the peace that surpasses all understanding and the joy that knows no bounds, in all of this is our privilege – like being lost in that place were our feet don’t know they are moving.
Mitch Albom, the five people you meet in heaven, Hyperion: New York, 2003; 13.

There was an interesting article in last Sunday’s New York Time’s Magazine dealing with virtual reality and our probable decline into fantasy worlds. Virtual reality is becoming so good and the machine-brain interface so sophisticated that in a few short years the connection will be so complete that a person could conceivably live his or her entire life in a virtual world. For many people, this will be preferable. Just thank of a mother who loses a child being able to continue “living with that child.”
Once I get a few moments, I want to deal with this more completely (or, as completely as comments on a newspaper article permit). As the Church, as a representative of the Church, we will have to deal with people who lose the ability to form and maintain tactile relationships. We also will have to deal with people who would rather live in fantasy than in the real world (not including those who have diagnosed mental disorders).
What impact will this have on the Church and our mission? Think of the Church as a bastion of people who desire to live tactilely with one another. We will be the “new” Amish. Think of the Church as a devise/place that teaches people how to once again live in physical community. The Church will have to help people re-learn the art of dealing with other “real” people not dependent on pre-programmed outcomes.
A friend of mine at Kent State (my former place of learning and employment) finished her PhD a couple years ago. Her dissertation topic dealt with brain patterning/synaptic pathway development and pedagogy. One of her hypotheses dealt with what students are really saying when they complain, “I’m bored. I’m bored. I’m bored!” She suspects that over the last 20 years (post-MTV) that younger peoples’ brain development has actually changed – synaptic pathways and brain patterning has shifted to such a degree that younger generations actually acquire and assimilate knowledge differently than in times past. She suggests that when students in classrooms say, “I am bored,” what is actually occurring is that they cannot receive the information being dispensed by an instructor because of these changes in brain development. Our prevailing pedagogies rely on a certain commonly understood “pattern,” but these students have brains that are simply wired differently. She is working with professors at Kent State to develop new pedagogies that may enable younger people to “not be bored.” This has nothing to do with just including “power-point” presentations or adapting to an “entertainment” model for teaching. These are fundamental changes that require a fundamental rethinking of how we give and receive information.
What does this suggest concerning a person’s connection with God, with other believers, with the “doing” of Church?
In addition, I recently read another article concerning the shift in learning patterns. We have entered the beginnings of an “image-based” system of learning. This is more than “I am a visual learner” or an “aerial learner.” This is acquiring information and making sense of that information strictly through imagery, not words. We could talk about being “image-illiterate/literate” in the same was we might talk about being “word-illiterate/literate.”
What does this suggest for Church, for liturgy, for preaching, for discipleship? I cannot help but think of a return to High-Church liturgy that includes all the senses and where the images we see convey meaning going back thousands of years. Images don’t just represent something, but they _are_ meaning. How might the Orthodox deal with this in the use of icons? What would an iconoclast say? I cannot help thinking about stained-glass which was used to teach the word-illiterate masses. The Church that depends entirely on the “word” may find itself using an educational pedagogy, a spiritual-pedagogy that just doesn’t work anymore.
Once the machine-brain interface becomes complete, the virtual world can enable us to “smell” and “hear” and “feel” and “experience” anything. Yet, it will not be real. How important will the “real” be in the next one hundred years? Honestly, what will “real” even mean? What will an “experience” of God suggest?
Throw in post-modernism and we have a lot of work to do. We have a lot of explaining to do!

“As we don’t know what we are living, we don’t know what we are losing.”
Genevieve Jurgensen The Disappearance: A Primer of Loss
The implications of this little statement: Consider how far we fall away from our ability and potential as we insist on continuing in the “way of the world” rather than living fully into the Kingdom of God.
We do not know how to live the life God calls us to, therefore we completely miss the life offered to us by God through Jesus Christ. We do not even realize what we are missing – we do not know what we are losing every moment of every day.

I am taking a class that deals with suffering, evil (really Theodicy), and how we respond to such things in liturgy.
One of our required texts is a thin volume entitle, simply, Evil, part of the Problems in Theology2 series. A segment from Elie Wiesel’s book Night is included. Wiesel retells an experience of his as a prisoner in Auschwitz. As he and other prisoners where coming back into the camp, they saw a gallows with three ropes. One of the three to be hanged was a young boy. As the prisoners walked by the gallows, they saw that the young boy squirming and struggling for breath the whole while, it took him half an hour to die. It seems he was too light to be effectively hanged.
Wiesel writes, “Behind me, I heard the same man asking: ‘Where is God now?’ And I heard a voice within me answer him: ‘Where is He? Here He is – He is hanging here on this gallows…'”
As I read this, the movie The Passion of the Christ came to mind. So many people have condemned Gibson and this movie for the incredibly gory depiction of the Passion. No man could withstand such torture, they say. It was gratuitous violence, blood, and gore by a sick-minded man, say others.
If we think of a single man enduring this torture until his death on the cross because of his radical message, then I agree. The movie was horrific. Yet, if we stop to think of God the Son/Jesus the Christ taking upon himself all the sin and suffering of the world – time past, present, and future, then the image depicted in Gibson’s movie is profoundly accurate. As Wiesel writes of Him hanging on the gallows with that little boy – present, there, simply and profoundly with and in and surrounding that boy – there we might see what was accomplished by the self-sacrifice of God for all of humanity.
Jesus took upon himself the Holocaust of the Jews. Jesus took upon himself the millions killed under Pol Pot. Jesus took upon himself the Tutsi and Hutu millions which were slaughtered. God was there hanging on the gallows of Auschwitz; God was there as the Tutsi was hacked to death by a machette; God was there as the poor Cambodian attempting to hold onto life was brutally murdered by someone half his age in the name of ideology. All the brutal, slaughterous, heinous, vile, and unspeakable actions humans have perpetuated upon other humans – if all this God took upon Himself during those final hours of the Christ’s Passion, then Gibson’s image of the suffering Christ was absolutely accurate.
In The Passion of the Christ, we see what we have done as all is taken by Jesus upon his body. Truly, if an accurate picture were to be portrayed, it would be far beyond what Mel Gibson displayed in his movie.
Now, we enter into Lent. It is a time when we are reminded that we are dust, and unto dust we shall return. A time to reflect on what we do that is not according to God’s desire and contrary to our best interests. We sin. We sin horrifically. Humanity does not deserve the love and compassion of a God who hangs with us on the gallows, a God who hangs on a tree, yet God so loved us that He took upon Himself all of human sin so that we might be reconciled, justified, made new.

From N.T. Wright (Christian Origins and the Question of God, Vol. III)

“Proposing that Jesus of Nazareth was raised from the dead was just as controversial nineteen hundred years ago as it is today.” (10)
“There was once a king who commanded his archers to shoot at the sun. His strongest bowmen, using their finest equipment tried all day; but their arrows fell short, and the sun continued unaffected on its course. All night the archers polished and refeathered their arrows, and the next day they tried again, with renewed zeal; but still their efforts were in vain. The king became angry, and uttered dark threats. On the third day the youngest archer, with the smallest bow, came at noon to where the king sat before a pond in his garden. There was the sun, a golden ball reflected in the still water. With a single shot the lad pierced it at its heart. The sun splintered into a thousand glittering fragments.
“All the arrows of history cannot reach God. There may, of course, be some meanings of the word ‘god’ that would allow such a being to be set up like a target in a shooting-gallery, for historians to take pot-shots at. The more serious a pantheist someone is, the more likely they will be to suppose that in studying the course of events within the natural world they are studying their god. But the god of Jewish tradition, the god of Christian faith, and indeed the god of Muslim devotion (whether these be three or one does not presently concern us) are simply not that kind of god. The transcendence of the god(s) of Judaism, Christianity and Islam provides the theological equivalent of the force of gravity. The arrows of history are doomed to fall short.
“And yet. Deep within both Jewish and Christian tradition there lies a rumour that an image, a reflection, of the one true god has appeared within the gravitational field of history. This rumour, running from Genesis through the Wisdom tradition, and then into Jewish beliefs about Torah on the one hand and Christian beliefs about Jesus on the other, may yet offer a way for the circle to be squared, for the cake to be both eaten and possessed, for the transcendence of this god to come within bowshot.” (11)

“For law, in its true notion, is not so much the limitation, as the direction of a free and intelligent agent to his proper interest, and prescribes no farther than is for the general good of those under law… So that, however it may be mistaken, the end of law is not to abolish or restrain, but to preserve and enlarge freedom. For liberty is to be free from restraint and violence from others which cannot be where there is no law: but freedom is not, as we are told, ‘a liberty for every man to do what he lists.’
“The power, then, that parents have over their children, arises from that duty which is incumbent on them, to take care of their offspring during the imperfect state of childhood. To inform the mind, and govern the actions of their yet ignorant nonage, till reason shall take its place, and ease them of that trouble, is what the children want, and the parents are bound to.”
John Lock: Second Treatise on Government, Chpt. 6, paragraphs 56-57

“…the Pentecostal movement confronts us with the basic question of what theology really is. Is theology only what is taught in our universities, i.e. a rational systematic discourse based on Aristotelian logic, which operates with concepts and definitions? Or could it not be that for example the parables of Jesus, the stories of the Old Testament, the hymns of the Reformation, the stories of the saints in the Catholic and Orthodox traditions, are also theology, but in other categories? If the latter is the case, then what does this mean for theology as a university discipline and for the ecumenical community?”
Walter J. Hollenweger, From Azuza Street to the Toronto Phenomenon: Historical Roots of the Pentecostal Movement, Pentecostal Movements as an Ecumenical Challenge, Concilium, Jürgen Moltmann and Karl-Josef Kuschel, editors, (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1996), 12.
“The Spirit is more than just one gift among others; the Holy Spirit is the unlimited presence of God in which our lives are quickened and awakened to new life and given the powers of the Spirit.”
Jürgen Moltmann, Pentecost and the Theology of Life (same journal as above)
In attempting to better understand the transference of Christian people from “traditional” church structures into Pentecostal-Charismatic structures (or even from mainline denominations into Evangelical ones) worldwide, it must be understood that confessional and doctrinal statements have become insufficient to grasp and hold members. Well-executed liturgies and systematic theological pronouncements no longer capture people’s imaginations. The experiential nature of Pentecostalism and Charismaticism do!
As I have expressed numerous times that Jesus did not come to establish beautiful liturgies and systematic theologies, but to reconcile us with God – to enable us to be reconnected in relationship with God the Father. It is relational; it is experiential. One can have all the knowledge in the world about a person, but the one will never know the person until they meet and communicate and experience one another. Evangelicalism/Pentecostalism presents a God of relationship to be experienced, not so much a God of cognitive development in right rational reasoning. The inward and heart-felt experience of loving and being loved is far more life giving than receiving confirmation that one’s doctrinal thesis has been successfully defended and the degree granted. With Evangelicals and Pentecostals, it is a love affair with God through Jesus Christ by the enabling of the Holy Spirit, not an intellectual exercise, and most people would rather have the love affair!

Christian Ethics today:
– In the public sphere, too often it is a matter of doing “what is right” – acting on Christian principles, even the basic pagan virtues of Plato and Aristotle.
– For Luther and Calvin, however, drawing from Augustine, it is always a matter of acting out of faith! This is ultimately what makes ethics, Christian.
– In Christian ethics, we’re not just trying to find a way to do good; it is not a philosophical system. Rather, we’re trying to find a way to be faithful, and that is the way to goodness. God is good, and has related himself personally to us in Christ.
– In Augustine and Aquinas: We live into our faith, being faithful first and discovering our true selves in God.

My experiences in a theologically liberal setting with a strong and ancient tradition, I can’t help but be changed – a progression both gradual and somewhat imperceptible. It is one thing to disagree with another or others concerning issues, ideas, or theories of all types, but another thing entirely to deny Christ in the other or others when I might hold a differing opinion.
We are seeking God. God is beyond our understanding, yet God has finagled a way so that we can know Him. We can never fully understand, yet we can know!
By the word of their testimony – they seek God; seek to understand God and the world. Their actions (for the most part, recognizing we humans are always fallible and always prone to mistakes) are generally consistent with their words. I cannot deny Christ in them; I cannot deny the Holy Spirit working within them to conform their lives to the image of Christ – freedom, peace, joy, and prosperity of the soul. I may think they are dead wrong and at this point in their understanding dangerous to the cause of Christ, but I cannot deny Christ in them! I cannot, even though they deny Christ in me.
I can ask where their passions lie! “Linking Isaiah’s allegory with our Lord’s vine and branches metaphor in tonight’s gospel, the warning is clear: you and I put ourselves in great danger when we abide in any other vine – whether person, issue, tradition, or theological conviction – as the source of our identity and purpose. There is only one vine in which to abide – our Lord.” (The Rev’d. Fred Anderson, pastor of the Madison Ave. Presbyterian Church, preacher for the William Reed Huntington Memorial Eucharist, September 2003) He spoke of many wild grapes that have been produced by the Church throughout history. Where does my passion lie? Within what vine do I abide? Within which do you? “Our disunity has produced more than simply bad wine.” Within the Episcopal Church and within Anglicanism, much bad wine is being produced, many wild grapes are growing. We are abiding in vines of theology, pride, power, “purity,” polity, piety, Biblicism, idolatry, etc. We are denying Christ in others from whom we hear their words of testimony and see the fruit of their lives and their claim of life in Christ. Anderson refers to his first professor of Ecumenics, as he touches on the issues that continue to divide us, especially at this time concern human sexuality, “President McCord regularly warned students, ‘If you must make a choice between heresy and schism, always chose heresy. For as a heretic you are only guilty of a wrong opinion. As a schismatic, you have torn and divided the Body of Christ. Choose heresy every time!'”
Here is a profound change in me! I would have always chosen against heresy (maybe not for schism per-say, but for expulsion) and would have denied Christ in others who did not hold a generally Evangelical theology. Now, I cannot deny Christ to others or in others with whom I disagree (who disagree with a certain theological vain), even though I may consider them heretics. I have moved from choosing a particular take on “purity of doctrine” ending is schism (expulsion), to choosing heresy. I see in part and I know in part, so who am I to judge others to the point of denying Christ in them when their words and deeds show a seeking after the things of Christ, a longing and desire for the Way of Christ. I may think they are dead wrong, and I may think their current ways of thinking or doing are dangerous to the cause of Christ, but it is not my prerogative to decide whether they do or do not have Christ!

I’ve been reading Rowan Williams’ (Archbishop of Canterbury) book Lost Icons: Reflections on Cultural Bereavement. In chapter two he writes of ‘Charity,’ “Since social activity outside the framework of ‘charity’ is regularly characterized by the sense of rivalry for limited goods, the festival or the fraternity comes to be a vastly important redefinition of what is involved in acquiring ‘goods’ at all. The material world appears as a world of scarcity – at least in the sense that no material acquisitions can be infinitely divided out. The game of ‘charity’ is based on the implied proposal that there are goods to be worked for that are completely different in kind from material goods, goods that exist only in the game, within the agreed structures of unproductive action…” (pp. 56-57; italics his)
In this context (rivalry of limited ‘goods’, although not in reference to a ‘game’), I wonder whether the conflicts between different groups of Christians, and between some Christians and other religions, and between they and secularists, is a result of this notion: that salvation is a limited commodity so that there is a competition to see who gets it — or — God’s acceptance and attention are limited, so that there is a rivalry to attain them. Thus, one group demands that their way be the only way and that their definitions be the only definitions to the exclusion of all others, securing for themselves God’s salvation, attention, acceptance, and blessing.
I wonder whether for many there is an underlying concept of limit to God’s grace and mercy, to God’s salvation? The politicized Religious Right demands (in so many ways and at so many levels) that society accepts their understanding of what determines a Christian and their definitions, and accept their assertion that those who do not are not saved or are not Christian. Why? I know there all kinds of sociological, psychological, and theological explanations for such views and behavior, but I wonder within a theological context whether there honestly is a belief that God’s grace and salvation are limited, and because of this there develops a sense of rivalry and competition that compels them to horde, to become exclusive, to deny others that which they claim for themselves? This could explain a lot in the way the conservative Religious Right is responding to the inclusion of homosexuals into society and the Church and their obsessive, fanatical opposition to any Christian person or group that advocates for such inclusion. I wonder?
God’s salvation, attention, acceptance, and blessing are limitless, thus there is no need to adopt an economic or consumer model of competitiveness and rivalry to attain/obtain limited resources — whether spiritual, material, a sense of acceptance or self-worth, forgiveness, love, etc. There is no ‘charity’ and no concern for the other in this model, just selfishness, ego, and pride — which can and will lead to violence, whether spiritual, mental, or physical.