A Cheesewearing Theologian on Barth

Standard

This is the third in my series of guest post, commemorating 10 years of my Karl Barth Reading Group here in Caronport. This week, I’m pleased to have Amanda MacInnis-Hackney provide her perspective. Amanda is a gifted writer and blogs occasionally over at her blog called “Cheesewearing Theology.”  (I’ve noticed she doesn’t post as often since being a PhD student…I wonder why? [Grad students: Insert knowing smile here.]) Be sure to check some of her posts out.

1)      Who are you? When did you attend the Barth group? And what are you doing right now in terms of vocation, family, church, etc.?

My name is Amanda MacInnis-Hackney. I moved to Caronport, SK on January 1, 2010. It was cold! Very, very cold! Thankfully, the people in Caronport work hard to take the edge off of the cold by being a warm and welcoming community and the first example of this was Dr. Guretzki inviting me to the Barth Reading Group that met weekly at the local coffee shop. That little group was my introduction to life in Caronport. I attended faithfully for a year, and then sporadically for the next couple of years (chalk that up to having three kids in four years). It was because of the Barth group that I signed up to take Dr. Guretzki’s graduate seminar on Barth’s theology the next year, and from there I ended up doing my M.A. thesis on Barth’s exegesis of John 1:14.

This introduction to Barth, through that weekly study group, continues to impact my life, as I have just completed my first year of PhD studies at the University of Toronto (Wycliffe College), where I am preparing to write my dissertation on Barth’s lectures on the Gospel of John under the supervision of Dr. Joseph Mangina.

2)      So far, do you have a favourite section of the Church Dogmatics? Why?

My favourite section of the Dogmatics is anything in IV. I spent this last semester in IV for two different classes: a class on atonement, and a class on Barth’s doctrine of the Church. In the opening paragraphs of IV/1 he writes, “To say atonement is to say Jesus Christ.” It is a short but powerful sentence that he then proceeds to unpack in a beautiful and rich way.  A brief example of one of the ways he unpacks the atonement: “The very heart of the atonement is the overcoming of sin: sin in its character as the rebellion of man against God, and in its character as the ground of man’s hopeless destiny in death. It was to fulfil this judgment on sin that the Son of God as man took our place as sinners. He fulfils it-as man in our place-by completing our work in the omnipotence of the divine Son, by treading the way of sinners to its bitter end in death, in destruction, in the limitless anguish of separation from God, by delivering up sinful man and sin in His own person to the non-being which is properly theirs, the nonbeing, the nothingness to which man has fallen victim as a sinner and towards which he relentlessly hastens. We can say indeed that He fulfils this judgment by suffering the punishment which we have all brought on ourselves.” (IV/1, 253).

3)      What are one or two things that have been impressed upon you—theologically, spiritually, pastorally, literarily, vocationally, whatever—in your reading of Karl Barth’s Church Dogmatics?

I’ve been a pastor. I’m a mom. I’ve taught college freshmen. In all of these situations, I have had to find a way to present the Good News of the Gospel in way that captures the imagination and can be understood clearly. Reading Barth has helped me with this. Whether I am writing a sermon, or helping my six year old work through her Bible memory verses, or teaching eighteen year olds about spiritual formation, I have regularly benefited from Barth’s work. I think this is largely due to his emphasis on exegesis. All of his theology flows first and foremost from a close reading of the biblical text. Sometimes it feels like modern/contemporary theologians do theology and then, to make it Christian, seek out scriptural support. Barth does not do this. He starts with Scripture first. This rootedness in the written Word is what makes Barth’s work (including not just the Dogmatics, but also his sermons and essays) relevant, useful and edifying.

4)      If you wanted to convince someone with why they might benefit from also reading Barth, what would you say?

When people ask me where they should start if they want to jump into Barth, I point them to the little collection of essays in the book “God Here and Now.” It is in this volume that the reader gets a clear sense not only of Barth’s theology, but also of Barth’s deep love for the Church, and a feel for his pastoral drive to do theology. Reading Barth answers the practical question: why theology? In Barth’s work the reader quickly sees that theology is not an abstraction of the Gospel, nor is it a specialized “add-on.” It is not just for academics in their “ivory towers.” Instead, theology is an integral task of the Christian community. Theology is totally dependent on God’s living Word and teaches the Church how to respond to the work and event of the Divine Word: Jesus Christ.

5)      Anything else you want to say?

Let’s have Barth have the last word: “To become and be a theologian is not a natural process but an incomparably concrete fact of grace.” (Evangelical Theology, 73).

Lingering in the Presence of God’s Beauty

Standard

This is the second in my series of posts reflecting on 10 years of our little Barth group held in Caronport, Saskatchewan! This one is compliments of Allen Doerksen.

Doerksen-head-and-shoulders


1)      Who are you? When did you attend the Barth group? And what are you doing right now in terms of vocation, family, church, etc.?

My name is Allen Doerksen. My involvement in the Barth reading group began in the second year (2006?) of its existence and ended, best I can remember sometime in 2010.  I was, at the time co-Rector of St. Aidan Anglican Church, Moose Jaw with the Rev. Denise Doerksen, my wife and co-laborer in the gospel.  Presently I’m the Priest-in-Charge (Vicar) of a mission parish (supported by diocesan funds), St. Matthew Anglican, Abbotsford (Diocese of New Westminster).  Denise and I have three grown sons, one married and one engaged, but, sadly, still no grandchildren!  By the time I had joined the group I’d been reading Barth for years but it was an enriching experience to read him with “newbies” and “steady hands,” insights came from all angles!

2)      What would you entitle your blog post?

Lingering in the Presence of God’s Beauty

 

3)      So far, do you have a favorite section of the Church Dogmatics? Why? Share one or two sentences from that section.

The Anglican imaginery is cut from both pre and post-reformation structures and thinking.  The section that is my favorite thus falls in Church Dogmatics II/1 650ff., Barth’s discussion of “beauty,” something Barth notes is not discussed in any satisfactory way in the post-reformation traditions. Barth thus reaches back to Augustine’s famous “late have I love you, O Beauty, ever ancient, ever new,” as a touchstone.  More shockingly, Barth works with Pseudo-Dionysius (as always Barth is not about to allow previous disagreements to get in the way of an important dialogue!).  Barth is seeking to answer the questions, “Why is the thing revealed in the divine revelation and what is the form and nature of its revealing?”  His answer: “If we can and must say that God is beautiful, to say this is to say how He enlightens and convinces and persuades us.”

Concomitantly, this means that “theology as a whole, in its parts and in their interconnexion, in its content and method….is the most beautiful of all the sciences.” This sentence finds itself in a section that both reflects on the beauty of God and is itself a beautiful piece of writing, a telling piece of “scientific” evidence in support of his method.

Beauty is not itself beautiful unless defined in terms of Triune God’s self-emptying in the Incarnation, “this work of the Son as such reveals the beauty of God in a special way and in some sense to a supreme degree.”  The climax comes in one of his classic examples of dialectical theology, his commentary on Isaiah 52:2-3 which reads, “in him, there was no beauty that we should desire him!”  When God reveals to us the risen Christ we are able to see the beauty of God shining out of horror!  “It is the beauty which Solomon did not have but which with all his equipment he could only prophesy.  It is the beauty of which we must also say that Athens with all its beautiful humanity did not have and could not prophesy it, because unlike Jerusalem it thought it had it….And can it be known except in the face of Him who Himself gives us power to know it?  There is no other face of this kind….No other speaks at the same time of the human suffering of the true God and the divine glory of the true man.”

4)      What are one or two things that have been impressed upon you—theologically, spiritually, pastorally, literarily, vocationally, whatever—in your reading of Karl Barth’s Church Dogmatics?

This passage is a great example of what Barth does for me; he helps me slow down and linger in the vicinity of what I might have easily missed if I was “merely” reading my Bible, or, on the other hand, more popular theology or spirituality books.  Barth’s attention to the “trees” and to “forest” means that individual texts are engaged with seriously but never woodenly in a way that satisfies biblical scholars who only wield the tool of historical-critical interpretation.  Barth is equally frustrating for many theologians who find him muddling around in the minutiae of scripture when they want him to be dealing with the “big issues” of the day!  But I find that it is precisely this combination that helps arrests my impatient need to “get things done” e.g. a sermon or presentation.  Barth is not an obfuscator, he does not dilly dally where direct statements might be more helpful, rather the “lingering in the face of God’s beauty,” serves the very purpose of theology which might be put plainly: to turn reading into prayerful reading or  even discursive meditation, the kind of reading that I find bears fruit in my relationship with God and in my pastoral conversations.  Lingering in the face of Beauty turns out to be an end in itself and deeply practical!


Follow Allen’s Twitter feed: @frallend

 

 

 

Waking up with Barth

Standard

Karl Barth by Ross Melanson 2009Just this past week, I completed the 10th year of my Karl Barth Reading Group. Since beginning in the fall of 2006, we have slowly but intentionally worked through a chunk of the Church Dogmatics. In years 1-3, we worked through CD II/2 (Election). In years 4-6 we worked through CD IV/3.2 (Vocation). Volume III/1 (Creation) was next during years 7-9. This past year we started “at the beginning” and are approximately half-way through CD I/1 (Word of God).

To commemorate the completion of our tenth year, I asked a couple of former Barth group participants to provide a guest post on their experience of being in a Barth reading group. This week we will hear from Dr. Jon Coutts. Jon was one of my thesis students and completed his PhD on Barth’s doctrine of forgiveness under Dr. John Webster. Check out his blog as well!

I asked Jon a series of questions, and his responses are below.


1)      What would you entitle your blog post?

Waking up with Barth

2)      Who are you? When did you attend the Barth group? And what are you doing right now in terms of vocation, family, church, etc.?

My name is Jon Coutts, formerly an evangelical pastor in Canada, now Tutor of Theology and Ethics at Trinity College Bristol in England. I am married to Angie and we have four boys between the ages of 7 and 12. We attend St Mary Magdalene Bristol, in the Church of England, where my wife is the Church Manager.

I attended the Barth reading group from 2006-2008 when we were reading from Church Dogmatics II/2 on the doctrine of election. At the time I was working on an MA in theology and, despite earning a BTh in the 90s, had yet to read any Karl Barth whatsoever. Those who are familiar with Barth’s doctrine of election will know this is quite a way to get introduced!

This ended up being a transformative event in my life for a number of reasons: It changed the tenor of my Master’s studies (which had originally been in apologetics), and it led me to the topic I would study for my PhD (forgiveness in Barth’s doctrine of reconciliation).

On top of that, while I won’t say the reading group settled my anxieties about predestination, after wrestling with Barth for several months (I really did not like him at first), this reading group opened windows of thought for me and gave me a new lease on life as it related to those anxieties.

3)      So far, do you have a favourite section of the Church Dogmatics? Why? Share one or two sentences from that section.

Having done my doctoral studies on volume four of the Dogmatics, there is hardly one of its 2700+ pages which doesn’t have something underlined. It would be hard to choose a favourite section! If I was to choose from elsewhere it would probably be §28, ‘The Being of God as the One who Loves in Freedom’, or some of the fragments posthumously published as The Christian Life.

But if I must choose one section (rather than all of) CD IV it would have to be §62.2, ‘The Being of the Community’. Perhaps because I am a church-minister at heart, and perhaps because it comes first in the thrice-spiraled rhetoric of the volume, it was this ecclesiology section of CD IV/1 where Barth’s theology really took hold for me. Here are a couple exemplary quotes:

‘Jesus Christ is not the Holy One for Himself, but for the world and in the first instance for His community in the world. He is not the Holy One in some height or distance above its earthly and historical existence but in it and to it (as His own earthly-historical form of existence). It is not for nothing, therefore, that it is in His hand and even in its this-sidedness, but in its very this-sidedness, in its human doing and non-doing, in its common action and the life of all its members it is continually confronted with His presence as the Holy One, it is continually exposed to His activity, it is continually jolted by Him, it is continually asked whether and to what extent it corresponds in its visible existence to the fact that it is His body, His earthly-historical form of existence. How can it believe and know and confess itself as His holy community … without continually looking to Him? … No, it cannot create and assure its own holiness. It can only trust His holiness and therefore its own’ (700-701).

‘Where and when does it not hang by a knife’s edge whether or not there is this remembrance in the community?… Luther knew what he was talking about when he dared to say … Non est tam magna peccatrix ut christiana ecclesia [There is no sinner so great as the Christian church]. It is the Church which prays, “Forgive us our trespasses,” which therefore knows and confesses that it needs the forgiveness of sins’ (658).

One can pretty easily see in those words the impulse for my PhD thesis on forgiveness in the church, to be published in 2016 by IVP Academic under the title A Shared Mercy.

4)      What are one or two things that have been impressed upon you—theologically, spiritually, pastorally, literarily, vocationally, whatever—in your reading of Karl Barth’s Church Dogmatics? 

When I began reading Barth’s Dogmatics I was carrying a fair amount of anxiety as it related to some of the rather core doctrines of the church, not to mention questions of the church itself (and my place within it). Although it took awhile for Barth to break through the ice of my evidentialist, perfectionist cynicism, when he did it was as if I became a Christian all over again. This happened repeatedly as I was reading for my PhD. Having grown weary of altar-calls in my youth, I do not consider myself an easy convert. But quite often as I was reading volume four I would have to put down the book and confess Christ as Lord of my life and church again. What did it for me particularly was this break through the gridlock of faith and reason which viewed (and practiced) theology in terms of faith seeking understanding. Add to that the view of church as an event within Christ’s accomplished and ongoing work of reconciliation (seen in the quotes above), and what you get is a repeatedly disillusioned (and self-loathing) pastor/teacher who can feel at home in his vocation (not to mention his own skin) again.

5)      If you wanted to convince someone with why they might benefit from also reading Barth, what would you say?

I would talk about those things mentioned above. The problem is that it is just so hard to get people to start reading the Church Dogmatics. They are just so big and seemingly inaccessible. That’s why a reading group is so important. I remember times I’d feel like I was adrift in the ebb and flow of Barth’s rhetoric until the shared insights of the group would give me a life line. After awhile you get better at reading him, and sometimes it is your comments which are the life line for others.

Apart from telling people just to pick up a volume and start anywhere(!), I have been thinking about where to tell people to look if they do not want to start in the Dogmatics. This term at college I wanted to revisit some things and so our postgraduate research seminar read The Humanity of God. This was an excellent and succinct introduction to the key moves in Barth’s theology.

6)      Anything else you want to say?

Just thanks again, David, for leading that reading group for us years ago. Although it was hard to roll out of bed and brave the snowdrifts to get there sometimes, as it turns out there are few things which have been as impactful on my life as those Friday mornings in the corner of that Saskatchewan coffee shop.

An Invitation to Christian Analytic Theology: A Guest Review

Standard

This is a guest review from Ben Nasmith, an excellent young theologian and current student at Briercrest Seminary. Be sure to check out Ben’s own blog, Meta-Theology Quarterly, as well. Disclaimer: I received this book as a free review copy from IVP which I’ve asked Ben to review.

—————-

As an interdisciplinary field, analytic theology faces trouble from the start. Few people posses both the needed theological erudition and general competence in analytic philosophy. Those with one often mistrust those with the other. As such, most philosophers and theologians are non-specialists when it comes to analytic theology. Thomas McCall aims to bring us up to speed with his new book: An Invitation to Analytic Christian Theology (IVP, 2015).

 McCall defines analytic theology as theology “attuned to and committed to the ‘goals and ambitions’ of analytic philosophy” (21). Analytic theologians do theology in the style of analytic philosophy. This style values conceptual clarity, precise argument, and logical coherence. Analytic writers use metaphor and antitheses with caution. Paradox and mystery are permitted, but never to conceal logical incoherence. 

Some theologians associate analytic theology with Christian analytic philosophy. That field tends to major on prolegomenon, like the existence of God or the rationality of theism. By association, analytic theology seems inseparable from conservative apologetics, natural theology, and a general naiveté of the history of doctrine.

 McCall assures us that this is not the case. The analytic method could just as easily serve liberation theology, Barthian theology, or an analysis of the patristics. The analytic method must be distinguished from the content of typical Christian philosophical work.

McCall practices some analytic theology in his book. He address a variety of theological topics, including perfect being theology, scripture as “revelational control” for theology, D.A. Carson’s compatibilism, the metaphysics ofincarnation Christology, the historical Adam, and evolution vs. creationism. McCall also discusses various challenges facing analytic theologians. These include the broad competencies required to practice analytic theology and the ever present danger of intellectual pride.

All told, this book offers an informative introduction in the analytic style to a variety of questions. I for one value analytic theology. I am thankful for this book and excited to see the field grow. However, I have some concerns that McCall does not address to my satisfaction. I’ll outline these below, along with a way forward based on my reading of Christian analytic philosopher Paul K. Moser.


First, McCall is quick to praise the virtues of the analytic method and slow to warn of its vices. He likens analytic theology to scholasticism without addressing scholasticism’s shortcomings. The analytic method is a worthy servant but a poor master. If analytic theology is “attuned to and committed to the ‘goals and ambitions’ of analytic philosophy,” it would be prudent to question whether those goals and ambitions serve theology well.

Theology as mere truth-seeking about God would face no conflict in a marriage to analytic philosophy. But theology cannot be so reduced. Theology seeks todiscern the word of God and articulate it. This word, and its existential freight, is impatient toward mere inquiry for inquiry’s sake. The analytic theologian must remember that their method is a tool and not a telos. The goal of theology is personal and corporate knowledge of God rather than systematic knowledge about God.

Second, McCall only briefly addresses concerns about metaphysics in theology. He notes that analytic theologians are unmoved by Kant’s critique. Paul K. Moser offers a stark contrast in his book Philosophy After Objectivity.Moser warns against waging “losing battles against ontological agnostics” (58). We face an “inescapable human cognitive predicament,” namely, we cannot confirm that our cognitive processes reliably grant us access to conceiving-independent reality without begging the question of their reliability (43). They may in fact deliver knowledge of conceiving-independent reality, but we cannot confirm this. “What is intelligible for us can . . . outstrip what is effectively answerable or testable by us” (57).

Christianity depends on de re encounter with God rather than mere de dicto assertions about God. If metaphysics is beyond our grasp as an experimentalsubject, what do we gain from it? Although we cannot escape from usingmetaphysics, we also cannot discern whether we posses the correctmetaphysics with certainty. Analytic theologians ought to take this predicament, and the agnostics who raise it, seriously.

Third, McCall very briefly addresses a concern raised by Stephen R. Holmes, who writes, “analytic discussions . . . seem generally to proceed with a remarkable confidence about the success of language in referring to the divine” (32). This concern relates to Moser’s objection to metaphysics. Our theological notions may successfully refer to the realities they address, but we cannot know for certain that they do.

Theology is therefore irreducibly perspectival — namely, from a human perspective. We cannot silence the ontological agnostic until we grant their point. Analytic theology should acknowledge this and proceed with appropriate humility. It should do so without sacrificing its other virtues, such as clarity and coherence.

How do we proceed? Moser warns against the “myth of the definite article” (8). Namely, we must not confuse our preferred notion of X (divinity, for example) with the objective notion of X. We employ our theological notions with various purposes in mind. Having granted to the ontological agnostic that we cannot discern whether our notions are the objective ones, we are free to proceed with a perspectival analytic theology. Our notions serve our purposes, not the purposes of the ontological agnostic.

This approach should allay the concerns of those who fear that analytic theology cannot do justice to the subject matter of theology — the transcendent God. A humble analytic theology, I think, could do theology a great service. It could treat the analytic method as a means rather than an end. It could acknowledge that theology is irreducibly perspectival (at least from the human perspective). Finally, it could admit that our theological notions are relative to our purposes as theologians. As we seek to discern God’s purposes for our theology, and adopt them as our own, we can adapt our notions and systems accordingly. Like the “hermeneutical circle,” analytic theologians may discern God’s purposes with greater clarity as they allow those purposes to govern their inquiry.

No, you aren’t the only Jesus some people will see…

Standard

jesus_in_mirrorYou’ve probably heard it one time or another. Someone, well meaning, says, “You know, lots of people will never darken the doors of a church or go to an evangelistic meeting. So if you are working with someone, or going through the line at the grocery story, remember, You might be the only Jesus some people will see.”

There’s even songs written to this effect. Like the old Imperials song, “You’re the Only Jesus.”

But is that true?

Karl Barth, in a remarkably short sentence (for Barth), puts it this way (with light edits for quotability):

“Jesus is immanent in the Church only as He is transcendent to it.” (CD 1/1, 100-1)

Barth’s big point, I think, is to remind us that while indeed Jesus is the one who is present to and in his people, the Church, he is always and only the transcendent Lord of the Church.

I happen to think Barth has it right here. There is an asymmetrical relationship between Jesus, the Head, and the Church, the Body of Christ. We can’t put a big equal sign between “Head” and “Body.” They are vitally (literally vitally!) connected, but they are far from being the same thing.

So if Barth is right, that means:

  • Jesus is a self-giving Gift to the Church, but he is never a “Given.” Just because the Church is Christ’s chosen covenant partner doesn’t mean that the Church can presume that Jesus is present in all of the church’s witness and actions. Indeed, there may well be times when the Body acts independently (and rebelliously) against the Head. In those instances, we should be thankful that we aren’t the only Jesus people can see.
  • Jesus works and acts in the Church, but is not constrained only to work and act in the Church. It is true again that Christ has chosen the Church to be his primary covenant partner by which he carries out his Father’s mission in the world. But we should be under no delusion that somehow Jesus is restricted to working only in the church and no where else. If God could use Balaam’s ass to speak his word then, he can surely use some other ass to speak his word today.
  • The Church can point others to Jesus in their midst, but they can only point to the Jesus who is in their midst. That is to say, we shouldn’t think that by introducing people to ourselves as Christians that we have somehow automatically introduced these people to Jesus. Just because he’s in the room doesn’t mean people know him just because we are there. You might see something of me in my children, but there is no way you would make the mistake of assuming that because you’ve met my children that you’ve met me. Now if you’ve met Jesus, on the other hand, then you have met his Father (John 14:9)…but that’s a little bit different story!
  • No, you and I aren’t the only Jesus some people will see. Actually, if Barth is right, people may very well  see Jesus in our midst. But it is nearly blasphemous, or at least we are putting a little too much faith in ourselves and a little bit too much pressure on ourselves, to think that somehow we “need to be Jesus” to others.

Let’s make it simple this Christmas Season. If we want people to know Jesus, let’s be sure to do our utmost actually to introduce them to Him. In the words of the Samaritan woman,

“Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did!” (John 4:29)

 

Why Karl Barth is ultimately Free Church in his Ecclesiology

Standard

marxist land“It is certain that we all have reason to ask ourselves each of these questions, and in every case quickly and clearly to give the answer:

“No, the church’s existence does not always have to possess the same form in the future that it possessed in the past as though this were the only possible pattern.

“No, the continuance and victory of the cause of God which the Christian Church is to serve with her witness, is not unconditionally linked with the forms of existence which it has had until now.

“Yes, the hour may strike, and perhaps has already struck when God, to our discomfiture, but to his glory and for the salvation of mankind, will put an end to this mode of existence because it lacks integrity.

“Yes, it could be our duty to free ourselves inwardly from our dependency on that mode of existence even while it still lasts. Indeed, on the assumption that it may one day entirely disappear, we should look about us for new ventures in new directions.

“Yes, as the Church of God we may depend on it that if only we are attentive, God will show us such new ways as we can hardly anticipate now. And as the people who are bound to God, we may even now claim unconquerably security for ourselves through him. For his name is above all names, even above the name that we in human, all too human, fashion have hitherto borne in his service and in a kind of secular forgetfulness, confused with his own.”

(Karl Barth, How to Serve God in a Marxist Land, 64-65).

Remembrance Day for Aliens and Strangers

Standard


Briercrest College Chapel November 9, 2015
Text: 1 Peter 2:11-17

It’s September 14, 1938, and my father is on ship somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s his 9th birthday (he remembers getting a whole orange to himself!) and he is with his family—his father and mother, his grandfather, and 8 other siblings, and thepoppyy are headed to Canada, leaving their homeland of Poland behind. Rumours of war have been brewing in Poland, and their pastor has encouraged the Guretzki clan to leave for their well-being. Why? That has never been made clear to me, but it may be because the name Guretzki was a common Jewish name, and you only need to be scarcely aware of some of things happening during that time that might suggest the need either to lay low or leave. Indeed, just a few weeks after my father’s family arrived in Canada, on Nov 9, 1938—77 years ago on this very day—that Hitler’s so-called Storm Troopers attack and destroy Jewish homes, businesses, and houses of worship. The terror, Kristalnacht—The Night of Broken Glass—would result in dozens of Jewish deaths, and the arrest of tens of thousands of other Jews who were sent to concentration camps, many of whom never returned home. By God’s providential mercy, my father’s family—the family with the Jewish sounding name—were spared.

But things were far from rosy in the dilapidated farm house north of Edmonton where my father’s family settled after the long journey from Poland. The winter that year was brutal. Water left in a pail in the house would be frozen solid by morning. There was no social assistance, and the family survived on potatoes and cabbages given to them by the folks from the local Pentecostal church. My grandparents wondered if they’d made a mistake in coming. Then on Feb 14, 1939, just months after arriving in Canada, my grandfather fell sick. He was rushed to hospital 40 miles away, which turned into a nightmarish journey because the car kept breaking down along the way in the sub -40 below zero temperatures that day.  That night Grandpa died, leaving behind his young widow and family. Say what we want about Christian hope of the resurrection, but I can’t imagine Grandma took easy comfort that Valentine’s Day. For her, Feb 14 must have ever after been a perpetual reminder of the horrible day she and 9 kids under 14 were left alone, aliens and strangers in a strange new world.

Dan asked me some time ago to provide some reflections on a Christian perspective on Remembrance Day which we will observe this week, so you’ll forgive me if this bit of my own family’s life history may not seem immediately to relate. I hope it eventually will. As far as  Remembrance Day goes, my family hasn’t been involved much in the military. My Dad was too young to serve in the military, and few in my extended family have served. I have two uncles who served, but frankly, I know little of their story. One I didn’t even know and one I visited maybe twice in my life, and all I know of him is that later in his life, the war memories haunted him to his dying days. So I can’t really speak from the perspective of one affected directly.

When I began preparing for today, I start where I usually start: In search of a text. As I prayed, I landed on 1 Peter 2, which we have just heard read. Turn with me again to this text and let me point you first to vss. 13-14: “Submit yourselves for the Lord’s sake to every authority instituted among men: whether to the king, or to governors, who are sent by him to punish those who do wrong and to commend those who do right.” Sure, it would be easy, and indeed, right, to tell you that Remembrance Day, for the Christian, is one day when we should stop momentarily, remind ourselves and one another, that much of what we enjoy today—the freedoms to worship, to move around freely, even to attend a theological school—were won and protected by the blood and scars of many before, especially in those instances in the past when we went to war to fight an evil that seemed to be so clearly Evil, and when the Just cause seemed to be self-evidently Just. My father’s family didn’t know it in their immediate tragic situation, but eventually would see the blessing of having escaped the ravages of the war in Poland. And eventually enjoying the blessings of living in a country like Canada, despite their initial hardships.

And so, I must not fail to exhort you today to obey what Peter by the Spirit has commanded us: Honor the authorities, honor the king. And do this by honoring the ones sent, sometimes voluntarily and sometimes not, to do the king’s bidding. We don’t have to agree on our theology of war or Christian involvement in the military to do this very thing. It is significantly different to honor the king than to agree with the king. Indeed, I can’t imagine Peter agreeing with the King of his day, especially since it was possibly Domitian (Dom-ish-an) who was the Emperor at the time and who opposed all who denied his divinity. But Peter—and Paul in Rom 13—both say: Submit to the authorities and give honor where honor is due. And so on this Remembrance Day, do what you can to honor those who have served, even when those “in charge” have sometimes acted against our own theological convictions. You may attend a Remembrance Day service, or wear a poppy, or not. Or you may say a pray for those who are serving now and those who have served, and especially for those injured in body, mind, and spirit in the midst of their service. You don’t have to agree with individual’s decision to join the services. You don’t have to agree with the all the reasons we have gone to war. But at the very least, a basic sense of common honor should keep us from scorning those who have and do serve in this way.

But if that were all I had to say, I think you should be disappointed. I don’t give the preceding advice tritely, but there is nothing particularly Christian about it. Virtually anyone of any religious or political stripe should be able provide some level of civil honor. You don’t have to be Christian to be civil. But is that all that Peter is saying to us in this text?

As I studied the text more carefully, it was “context” that finally nailed it for me. You know, that fundamental rule of hermeneutics: always read a passage in its context. So as I reflected on Peter’s imperative to submit to authorities, I looked at the larger context. Unfortunately, in lots of Bibles there is a break between vs. 12 and 13, as there is in my NIV. But that break causes us to miss something vitally important, and that is that the way in which we submit to the authorities and honor the king depends in large part in first understanding who it is that we are. Let me explain.

Jump back to v. 9-10. There we discover we are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God. We also discover that once we weren’t a people but now we are the people of God. Such royal language! We should be proud—and indeed, we can be proud in the Lord. But then Peter does something unexpected in vs. 11. It as if he says, given all that you are, do not be surprised by what I am about to tell you: You are out of your element! Peter says, “Dear friends, I urge you, as aliens and strangers in the world, to abstain from sinful desires, which war [or as some translations put it, “wage war”] against your soul.” Here Peter, under the Spirit’s inspiration, reminds us that though we are a royal chosen people, we are nevertheless aliens and strangers in this world.

I guess when I first read that, I came to realize that really and truly, I don’t have much clue of what it must be like to be an alien and stranger, but as I recalled the stories from my father’s family—of their feelings of alienation and insecurity both in their homeland and in the land to which they have come—that I got maybe just a tiny glimpse of what it means to be an alien in our own world. Maybe there some of you here who can indeed relate firsthand to what Peter says, either now or at some time in your life. You know what it feels like to be the alien and stranger. We could learn a lot from you, I’m sure. But I also know that really, probably most of us really don’t “get it.”

Here’s the thing: Whether you can relate to the experience of being a “foreigner in a foreign land” or not, Peter here reminds us that regardless of the presence or absence of a feeling of alienation, the fact is that we, that strange band of Christ followers called the Church, are indeed aliens and strangers. As followers of the Stone rejected by men (v. 4), we should, therefore, not be surprised to be rejected also by the world.

But something really unfortunate has happened: Christ’s followers, us, have at times become so comfortable in this world that we have forgotten how unlike the world we are. We have forgotten that we really do not fit into the expectations and patterns of this world. And so we find ourselves in a paradoxical state of being strangers and aliens who have forgotten that we are aliens and strangers! As my dad’s family struggled to find their place, I can’t imagine that they had to pinch themselves and say, “Oh yeah, we are strangers in this land!” They knew it and they lived it every day.

Now hold on to that thought for a moment, and let’s move on to the second thing that Peter points out in the second half of verse 11. Having reminded us that we are in fact aliens and strangers, Peter urges us: “Abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul.” Some versions more accurately call these “fleshly desires”, but whatever they are, Peter makes clear how dangerous they are: they are waging war for your soul.

Notice how Peter combines two images: a sociological image—aliens and strangers—and a militaristic—of things waging war. And no doubt Peter combines these images for good reason. Even a semi-honest accounting of human history tells us that war, civil strife, and military action have caused more human alienation and suffering than anything else. Is this not what we are seeing in places like Syria even today?

Peter knows war damages stuff deeply. And not only stuff, but the people who engage in it and the people who involuntarily suffer under it. And yet, he also reminds: there are other things than war itself—things as hellish as war itself—that can and will do great damage to our very being.

At this point, we might cue up images of an ominous battle scene, the Orcs vs. the Dwarfs, Elven and Hobbits, complete with epic battle music! But that is not what happens. We might expect Peter (like Paul?) to say, “Now that you know these things are coming to destroy you, get ready to do battle with every piece of spiritual weaponry and bravado that you have!” But he doesn’t.

Instead he says: Abstain from these things. WHAT? Yes, you heard it. “Avoid those things.” Peter’s response is almost laughable. But indeed, that is all he says. Abstain from them. Simple measures for epic dangers.

Well, ok. But what are these things? Frankly, he doesn’t give us a list. He gives us no indications of what we should be on the look-out for. Why not? Maybe it’s because the things that seek to destroy us, that wage war against our souls, are self-evident when we see them. Sort of like seeing an Orc. You never have to wonder whether Orcs are of the friendly or unfriendly type. We just know they are there to destroy you. And there’s no second guessing the things that are waging war on our souls. Why not?

I think it’s because those of us who are living stones of God’s spiritual house (v. 5) already know full well what those Orcish, hellish, demonic desires are. Peter doesn’t tell us because the Spirit of God is fully capable and faithful of doing just that–in his time and in his way. Sure, we all need instruction of wise teachers and spiritual examples of godly living. But when it comes to the things that could destroy our soul, we already know what they are. We don’t need Peter, and you don’t need me and I don’t need you to tell me because God’s Spirit has already made it plain. You know it. I know it. That’s not the problem. By God’s Spirit you may even be able to name it right now. No, the problem isn’t that I don’t know it. The problem is that I simply don’t want to abstain from it.

And this is where the two images of v. 11 come together. You see, the problem is twofold: On the one hand, we have forgotten that we are aliens and strangers in this world; and on the other hand, we have gotten too comfortable and made false peace with those very things that are destructive to the souls of Christ’s followers. So what then shall we do? How do we show ourselves to be aliens in this world? How do we avoid being destroyed by these evil desires?

Peter gives us insight in v. 12: Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong (as indeed, they will), they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.” In other words, Peter says, Start living in this world as the aliens and strangers you already are. The world may not like it, and the world may not understand it, and the world may even accuse us of wrong doing. But know this one thing: One day, they will know what is right and that your citizenship is with God, and they will glorify God when Christ returns.

Well, where does that leave us when it comes to Remembrance Day? No, I haven’t forgotten about it. Shouldn’t we be talking about political theology? About pacifism and just war theory? About theories of political engagement? Certainly, those have their place, and those who know me know that I think these are critical issues to work through. But as I looked at this passage, I came to realize that these discussions are finally secondary to the fundamentals we’ve discussed this morning.  No matter your view on military service, 2 things are firm: 1) God’s people are strange, and 2) their strangeness is manifest in their refusal to make peace with the very things which are seeking to destroy us, AND that the things most trying to destroy us aren’t other peoples or nations. That doesn’t mean we don’t honor the King, but it does mean doing so in a way that refuses to allow our strangeness to be domesticated by the King’s demands.  I think this is implicit in the three things that Peter commands to us do in v. 17: Love the brotherhood, fear God, and honor the king.

1) First, love the brotherhood. Peter knows our Lord’s word: “This is how the world will know that you are my disciples, by how you love one another.” It may seem obvious, but it needs to be said: Our primary “love allegiance” is not to the mother or fatherland, not to the flag, and not to the King or Queen. Our primary allegiance is with the King of Kings, our Lord Jesus Christ, and with the Church over whom he is Head. Therefore, we remember well when we remember to love our brothers & sisters in the Lord. (IDOP yesterday). And yet, when it comes to a day like Remembrance day, it is tragically ironic how easy it has been for a Christian pacifist violently to denounce his brother or sister in the Lord for taking a just war stance. And it is equally tragic and ironic how easily a Christian just war theorist can unjustly denounce, and even punish, her or his brother and sister who conscientiously objects, even to the point of labelling them as traitors to the State. Our failure to love another in the midst of our theological differences about Christian participation or abstinence in the military is already to put the allegiance to the Flag or the Country ahead of our Spiritual Communion in Christ’s Church.

The failure to love is the first and most deadly danger to Christians which Remembrance Day presents. Whether our theology permits us to participate or not, may we not grieve Holy Spirit of peace by treating our brothers and sisters with whom we may disagree as if they were the enemy. Practically, that means simple things like not turning your nose down at those who may wear a poppy though you may think you should not.  And vice versa. Or more positively, it might mean taking the time to sit down and listen to those with whom we disagree to get a better perspective. But whatever we do, me must do it with the recognition that we are CHRISTIANS—aliens & strangers—first, and Canadians (or Americans, or whatever) second, not the other way around.

2) Second, fear God. Notice that Peter puts Fear God before Honor the King?  Yet it is an unfortunate reality that so much of our present political climate is based on fear of each other (terrorists, immigrants, politicians, political parties, nation-states, etc.) rather than our fear of God. It is a sad state of affairs that we can so boldly pronounce our favor or disfavor for the State’s foreign policy, in its use of the military, and in its treatment of the foreigners and aliens in our midst, and yet be so timid in boldly pronouncing to one another against those things that battle for our very souls, and against the ways of God. It is, frankly, easier for us to condemn a political platform, or social or foreign policy, than to condemn the greed, laziness, gossip, rage, covetousness, overindulgence, prayerlessness, sexual immorality and plethora of other things that are killing our very souls. But let us recognize that our propensity to advocate for the things that make us safest and most security politically—even if there is nothing wrong to do so—is perhaps evidence that we more often speak and act out of our fear of people than out of fear of God our Father and Maker. On Remembrance Day, and on every other day, let’s not forget that all of us, kings and servants, prime ministers and citizens, men and women, rich and poor, will be called upon to give an account in the Last Day. And the question which we must soberly ask every day: Am I abstaining, even fleeing, from those desires that war against my soul?

3) Third, Honor the king. We do well to heed Peter’s words here. Peter doesn’t make the wrong assumption that fear of God means snubbing our noses at the King. On the contrary, being a follower of Jesus means acknowledging that all authorities in heaven and earth are under his domain. We do not have to dishonor lower case “k” kings in order to honor the upper case “K” King of Kings. But what we must remember is that it is only as children of the King of Heaven that we can honor the earthly kings and authorities. We do not honor God by honoring the king; we honor the king by first fearing the King.

So, on this coming Remembrance Day, let us never forget that first, we are aliens in a foreign world. We will be hated and challenged, whether at home or abroad, and so we should not be surprised when even in our observances of honor, we may be criticized because we haven’t fallen prostrate to the King, or we don’t jump on a militaristic bandwagon. Christians should be the first to realize that the State is Fallen, indeed, it often does evil things. Yet neither should we be armchair rebels and electronic revolutionaries who take potshots on Facebook and Twitter and in the blogosphere at those who have given and served on behalf of their fellow citizens, sometimes even with their own blood. To do so is to exercise a strange form of Christian anarchism that thinks we can live under the authorities without submitting to them, as Peter says, for the Lord’s sake. Indeed, for the Lord’s sake and for his glory, let’s us pay honor to those who have served, to those who are serving, even while remembering that we do so as spiritual expatriates whose kingdom is from above and whose King shall live forever. Amen.