Simplicity and frugality become all the rage in a recession. In the last year, the cultural landscape has exploded with magazine articles and blog posts boasting how-to articles on making (and keeping) a budget, the secret to grocery coupon shopping, and fifteen free activities to try next weekend. For a nation that has forgotten—or worse, never learned—how to save, these tips and tricks are much needed…even if they are for many people too little, too late. Enter Adam Hamilton’s book Enough, released in 2009 and now expanded and re-released this year. Hamilton’s book also includes common sense suggestions on how to spend, share and save, but they’re placed within a theological argument for simplicity and generosity. In his book, readers get not only the how, but also the why.

I hope I don’t sound too pessimistic when I say that without the why, without a true and clear look at how we structure our lives and how we approach what we do with what we have, this temporary fad of cutting out our cable subscription and eating in more often isn’t going to last. As soon as the economy picks back up, we’ll land up right where we were before, with problems Hamilton references such as affluenza and “credit-itis.” Because the truth of the matter is, at its heart this book shouldn’t be read because we’re in a recession. It should be read because as Christians, it is our responsibility and joy to be mindful about what we do with what we have.

If you have a friend who is beginning to think about his/her relationship to money and stuff and what that means for the practice of faith, this is a near perfect starting point. Hamilton describes the problem and addresses a number of practical (and feasible) solutions that portray what has been a consistent Christian ethic of simplicity and generosity. The feasibility aspect is important, too; Hamilton doesn’t demand readers to get rid of their cars or take up vows of poverty. He’s realistic about where most readers find themselves.

If you’ve been around the simplicity conversation for a while, take note this is definitely an introductory book. I’d also mention this does seem to be a book geared toward the middle class or upper-middle class. As the title inadvertently suggests, it’s for people who have enough. Those who struggle to pay the bills may find Hamilton’s anecdotes about convincing himself not to get an iPhone or learning a lesson after buying a PlayStation that doesn’t get used off-putting, to say the least. But for those who situate themselves where Hamilton resides- in a middle class America that is slowly weaning itself off one massive money binge- Enough may be just the remedy.

Attention those of you who live in the Dallas area: this Sunday, Mark Scandrette will be leading our Journey gathering!  And YES, I KNOW this is Super Bowl Sunday, but guess what: 1) This is what DVRs are for and 2) the game lasts so long that you can come and still have hours to spend at a Super Bowl party.

So here is what you need to do. Come to Journey at 4:15 for a book signing reception. Bring money to buy a book, chat with Mark, and have some wine and cheese. Then, stay for the gathering, which will begin promptly at 5pm and hear Mark share with us about his book Practicing the Way of Jesus. We’ll end the evening by sharing communion together. And for those of you who don’t care about the Super Bowl (me), you can come out with us for dinner afterward, too. The rest of you can go along to your Super Bowl parties with approximately seventy more hours of game time to go.

WHAT I’M SAYING IS YOU CAN HAVE YOUR CAKE AND EAT IT TOO, PEOPLE.

If you’ve never heard Mark, this is a great opportunity to spend some time with him and hear his unique and helpful perspectives on what it means to follow Jesus. So spread the news…and see you Sunday!

The Hebrew word rahaph is generally translated ‘hover’ or ‘brood’. But according to Deut. 32:11 and Jer. 23:9 it has rather the meaning of vibrating, quivering, moving and exciting. If this is correct, then we should not think only of the image of a fluttering or brooding dove. We should think of the fundamental resonances of music out of which sounds and rhythms emerge. In thinking about ‘creation through the Word’, we should not therefore think primarily in metaphors of command and obedience. A better image is the song of creation. The Word names, differentiates and appraises. But the breath is the same in all the words, and binds the words together. So the Creator differentiates his creatures through his creative Word and joins them through his Spirit, who is the sustainer of all his words. In the quickening breath and through the form-giving word, the Creator sings out his creatures in the sounds and rhythms in which he has his joy and his good pleasure. That is why there is something like a cosmic liturgy and music of the spheres.

Sleeps a song in every thing

That is dreaming still unheard.

And the world begins to sing

If you find the magic word.*

I recently finished reading Out of the Silent Planet, the first in C.S. Lewis’ science fiction trilogy, in which the main character, Ransom, meets otherworldly creatures who are described as having not vocal chords and lungs but resonances. This may be why Moltmann’s description of the Spirit seems particularly poignant to me this week, but I do find it to be a lovely and true-feeling image. I confess I never did envisage creation as a dove flitting about; I picture it more like a whirl, or a big rumble from the deep. Whatever the case, if there is to be a sound connected with it, (and what is a good story without an equally good soundtrack?) I’m quite happy with the idea of resonance and vibration. I suppose that’s because in my estimation the story of creation is to be for us something like a good opening chapter in which we find ourselves captivated by the story. It’s to be a song that beckons us to keep listening. It’s a story in which some magic word that holds all of reality and being and goodness together is hiding, sleeping even, waiting to be discovered.

I confess I will never quite understand why so many people have made Genesis about facts and charts and arguments. Why one would choose to do that rather than to be taken away with the song of creation, the cosmic liturgy, the music of the spheres, is beyond me. As Moltmann said, this isn’t a story of God barking out commands. I imagine you could make a good chart out of that. It’s a story of the Word breathing out a resonance that is God’s joy and good pleasure. It’s not something to prove. It’s something to experience.

*poem by Joseph Von Eichendorff

I’m so excited that the new Emergent Village blog is up and running over at Patheos! It is called the Emergent Village Voice, and there is a fantastically diverse list of contributors. I’ll be posting there every other week. My first post went up today, so go give it a read!  And go add it to your RSS feed. There are already a ton of really great posts up.

I should like to talk about both these things: about the Merciful One who shares our suffering, and about the Holy One who goes ahead of us and leads us to the eternal home of identity. But the presupposition for both these experiences of God is the descent and self-lowering of the Eternal One into our earthly and transitory world–the immanence of the transcendent God. Or in the words of the prophet Isaiah (57:15): ‘I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a humble and contrite spirit.’ It is not just for us that it is important to experience the nearness of God in what happens to us. It is important for God, too, for God wants to live among us and on this earth for ever and ever.”

Here’s something I love about Professor Moltmann- he doesn’t forget about God. That may sound strange to say, but I get the sense that many theologians get to talking so much about God-the-concept or God-the-idea or, heaven forbid, me-the-smart-theologian-talking-about-the-complexity-of-God-the-idea, that GOD actually gets lost in the shuffle. Moltmann has made great contributions to theology because he doesn’t forget to ask the question, “What does this mean for GOD?”

In Advent, we spend most of our time talking about what it means for us that God became human and lived among us. And that is right and good, because it is mind-boggling and beautiful and the biggest and strangest gift we could imagine. As we enter these last two weeks of Advent, I wonder if we could also remember to consider what this means for God. I like to think that God becoming immanent even in God’s transcendence is something God has anticipated eagerly because it brings to fruition something intrinsic about who God IS. And at Christmas, this immanence of God becomes known to us in a way that it wasn’t before. That’s good news for us–but let’s not forget it’s good news for God, too.

In case you missed it, the reading list for the upcoming Emergent Village Theological Conversation has been posted!  We’ve also added some more conversation partners to the mix including Monica Coleman.  As you know, space is limited for this event each year, so don’t delay in getting registered!

Find out all the information and a link to registration here.

We’re immersed in Advent as we enter the mid-point of the season and the light of our hope slowly grows brighter. Some words from Moltmann this morning from Theology of Hope p.164-165:

God is not somewhere in the Beyond, but he is coming and as the coming One he is present. He promises a new world of all-embracing life, of righteousness and truth, and with this promise he constantly calls this world into question- not because to the eye of hope it is as nothing, but because to the eye of hope it is not yet what it has the prospect of being. When the world and the human nature bound up with it are called in question in this way, then they become ‘historic’, for they are staked upon, and submitted to the crisis of, the promised future. Where the new begins, the old becomes manifest. Where the new is promised, the old becomes transient and surpassable. Where the new is hoped for and expected, the old can be left behind. Thus ‘history’ arises in the light of its end, in the things which happen because of, and become perceptible through, the promise that lights up the way ahead. Eschatology does not disappear in the quicksands of history, but it keeps history moving by its criticism and hope; it is itself something like a sort of quicksand of history from afar.

 

Such beautiful imagery in here- the picture of the world being “staked upon” the coming promised future of God,  the perception of movement in the form of quicksand, and the most lovely Advent image of  the “promise that lights up the way ahead.” I’ll not comment further and just let the picture stand.

The child, whose birth and whose future reign of peace devoid of violence and war Isaiah announced (chapters 9,11), is the “Son of David.” He is a descendant of David, endowed with the dignity of the chosen King David. Just as David conquered Jerusalem, making it the capital of Israel, the future “Son of David” will redeem Israel (from the Babylonian exile) and will rebuild Jerusalem. Most important, the coming “Son of David” will fulfill the prophet Nathan’s ancient promise to David: “I will raise up your offspring after you, who shall come forth from your body, and I will establish his kingdom forever.” (2 Sam 7:12-13)  The promised “Son of David” is the messianic king for which Israel is hoping.

The hopes placed upon him do, however, explode all (historical) limits: “he will raise up the poor of the land,” he will “bring justice to the peoples,” and he will sow peace between humans and animals: “The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fading together, and a little child shall lead them” (Isa 11:1-11). While this messianic hope exceeded all of life’s experiential limits, it was conceived during the time of the Babylonian exile, at Israel’s “ground zero.” From the very beginning, it was part of Israel’s traditions of hope.  [Abraham and Sarah's] promise brought into history an orientation towards the future, replacing the eternal return of the same in nature religions. Children were no longer merely included in the powers of origin through the veneration of the ancestors, but the generations were now aligned towards children as the carriers of hope and as signs of the steadfastness of the God of promise.

The hopes placed on the messianic child explode all limits. I love the imagery that conjures in my head, like an electric wire exploding from too much energy and making a fireworks show that lights up the night. I also appreciate that these hopes are beyond rational, really. They are not something most people walk around and assume. To have Advent hopes means to be willing to explode our limits of what is possible. Through this one promise, this one vulnerable human child, the whole world carries a new kind of hope for the future.

The privatization of religion has as its presupposition its de-politicization and as a consequence its marketing. What is called modern multifaith and multicultural society is nothing other than the total market society. Religions and cultures are on display in this market in just the same way as political options, commodities and services. Religions become the spiritual services on offer in the religious supermarket of the modern world. Individual religious liberty is certainly a powerful protection for every person’s own human dignity, but because of the typical Western concept of the consumer’s freedom to choose or dispose, that same freedom has turned religion into a commodity, where the customer is allegedly always right. Marketed religions take on the characterisitcs of goods on sale…

In the multifaith consumer society, peace reigns between the religious communities. That is a fact. But this religious peace is achieved through the political shut-down on religion, its privatization and marketing- not through recognition and esteem, but by reducing religion to insignificance. One does not have to be a fundamentalist to see this as practiced atheism.

This quote isn’t in reference to any particular post in that Patheos conversation, but I believe it’s an important discussion for those considering the future of the seminary. If the C/church is currently becoming locked down and even pigeonholed into a market-based enterprise in a multifaith world, what does that mean for how we prepare students and pastors? Where is the prophetic voice inside those competing forces and what is it saying? If a church doesn’t want to live as isolated as its seminaries, nor as marketed as the mall nearby, what kind of creative space must it find? How can we differentiate between the “peace” of insignificance and the peace of shared life?