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Peak Oil and Place

At last weekend’s Inhabit Conference in Seattle, I had the opportunity to co-facilitate (with Brandon Rhodes) a conversation on “peak oil and place.” It was a lively and fascinating discussion. Near the end I asked a question that I also want to pose here.

Cheap fossil fuel energy has underwritten modernity and more than a century of America’s rapid economic growth. But the world’s oil resources are going into irreversible decline, and gas prices are through the roof. For this reason and others (climate change, high food prices, high debt levels), we seem to have reached “the end of growth,” in Richard Heinberg’s memorable phrase. Thus, “growth” can no longer be the practical standard by which we make decisions and judge the health of our economy and society. We need a new standard.

In the same way, cheap oil has underwritten the growth of certain types of churches. It has given people the mobility they need to commute long distances to church, given them the freedom to switch churches on a whim, and allowed church leaders to build ever-larger campuses on the outskirts of town. Peak oil is going to change this. Dynamic growth and dramatic size can no longer be the standards by which we make decisions and judge the health of a church community. We need a new standard.

Which brings me to my question: What should the standard be?

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Busyness and Good Work

I’m thinking today about how busyness can become a substitute for good work. If we are wired for good work – and I believe we are – but aren’t doing it, then busyness is a way of tricking our souls into thinking everything is alright. But everything isn’t alright. If the guitar is out of tune, it doesn’t do much good to play louder. I want to explore in more detail in the chapter on work in the Slow Church book…and figure out what it means in my own life.

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Beds and Books: The Hospitality of Shakespeare and Company

Everything that rises must converge. Well, here is a fun convergence of interests.

I am writing a chapter on hospitality for the Slow Church book. I have reference volumes stacked ten-high on my desk at home. But in the car to and from work I have been listening to audiobooks by Ernest Hemingway. The first audiobook I listened to is my favorite Hemingway book: A Moveable Feast, which is about Hemingway’s time as a young writer in 1920s Paris. In fact, the Hemingway kick was inspired by Woody Allen’s film Midnight in Paris - also partially set in the 1920s – a movie I compulsively rent and watch the way Mel Gibson’s character in Conspiracy Theory buys copies of The Cather in the Rye.

In A Moveable Feast, Hemingway reminisces about visiting Shakespeare and Company, the legendary English language bookshop run by Sylvia Beach at 12 rue de l’Odeón. Beach had a rental library in the bookstore; books were available to check out for a small rental deposit. But Hemingway was poor and shy, and he didn’t have enough money for the deposit the first time he visited the shop. Yet Beach welcomed him in, gave him a library card, told him to pay the deposit whenever he could, and urged him to take as many books as he wished. He wrote:

There was no reason for her to trust me. She did not know me and the address I had given her, 74 rue Cardinal Lemoin, could not have been a poorer one. But she was delightful and charming and welcoming and behind her, as high as the wall and stretching out into the back room which gave onto the inner court of the building, were shelves and shelves of the wealth of the library.

This strikes me as a uniquely lovely display of hospitality toward a young, very poor expatriate writer.

I bring this up because last night I watched an interesting video posted on the The New Yorker‘s Book Bench blog, about George Whitman and the second iteration of the Shakespeare and Company bookshop. Like Beach’s store, which had closed for good during World II, Whitman wanted his his bookshop to be a haven of hospitality:

George had spent many years walking through South American and was touched by the hospitality of locals, who would often feed and accommodate him. This had a profound impact upon his life and led him to create a bookstore that is a sanctuary for writers, aspiring writers and artists. From the day that George opened he has invited writers to share his home. Some 50,000 have placed their heads on Shakespeare and Company’s famous pillows.

George Whitman died in 2011. The three-minute video features an interview with Whitman’s daughter, who has taken up where her father left off. It’s definitely worth watching:

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Eternal Beings Living in Time: On Wendell Berry’s “Jayber Crow”

My favorite Wendell Berry novels are The Memory of Old Jack (1952) and Jayber Crow (1986), both of which were featured in 2009 in an issue of Oxford American magazine celebrating great Southern fiction. Now that I am about a quarter of the way through my first chronological exploration of the Port William fiction, I thought I would post here the short essay I wrote about Jayber Crow for my book, Besides the Bible: 100 Books that Have, Should, or Will Create Christian Culture(Besides the Bible, co-written with Dan Gibson and Jordan Green, was recently republished by InterVarsity Press.) Berry’s work in general – and Jayber Crow in particular – planted some of the earliest seeds of Slow Church. I’m guessing many of our Slow Church friends are familiar with Wendell Berry’s writing. If so, have you found your way to his fiction yet? Do you have a favorite novel?

Here is that essay…

Read the whole post at the Slow Church blog…

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What I’m Reading Now: Bonhoeffer, by Eric Metaxas

I have read five books so far in 2012. Two were by Martin Luther King – A Call to Conscience, a collection of speeches, and A Knock at Midnight, a collection of sermons – and a third book was Manning Marable’s recent biography Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention. (I wrote a bit about the Marable book here and here.) I am now approximately four-fifths of the way through Eric Metaxas’s biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy. Not long after starting the Bonhoeffer biography, I realized that Bonhoeffer, Malcolm X, and Dr. King all have something in common: they all died – were killed – when they were 39 years old. Tomorrow, February 4, is Bonhoeffer’s birthday.

Eric Metaxas was the keynote speaker at the 60th annual National Prayer Breakfast, held last Wednesday. Metaxas gave President Obama a copy of his book, saying, “President George W. Bush read this. So…no pressure.”

I’m enjoying Bonhoeffer. Dietrich Bonhoeffer is a fascinating subject, and Metaxas is a lively and engaging writer. Most of you probably know the story of how Bonhoeffer, a pastor and theologian, collaborated with the German resistance to try to assassinate Adolf Hitler. For this, Bonhoeffer was sent to the Buchenwald and Flossenbürg concentration camps, and executed one month before Germany lost the war.

Bonhoeffer played a key role in a different kind of resistance, working with the global ecumenical movement and the German Confessing Church to oppose the so-called Deutche Christen (“German Christians”), sycophants who tied themselves in theological knots to conform with Nazism’s antisemitic, nationalistic, and fascistic ideology. (Here is a link to the flag of the German Christians. If life was an Indiana Jones movie, there would be a hole where the swastika is.)

Dietrich’s faith and courage are on full display in the biography – as is the courage and “good cheer” of his parents and the entire, extraordinary Bonhoeffer family. Metaxas uses letters and diaries to give us an intimate look into what Dietrich was thinking and feeling when he studied at Union Theological Seminary in New York City, visited black churches in Harlem and learned more about systemic racism against blacks in the American South (he saw parallels with the crescendoing antisemitism back home), pastored German-language churches in London, ran illegal seminaries for the Confessing Church in Germany, and became directly involved in counter-intelligence work.

My main complaint with Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy is that Metaxas rarely talks about Bonhoeffer’s other enduring legacy: the books he wrote. Bonhoeffer’s most famous work, The Cost of Discipleship, appears nine times in 544 pages. Ethics is talked about just 14 times, though, to be fair, it is given its own subsection. (Metaxas writes, “The solution is to do the will of God, to do it radically and courageously and joyfully.”) Life Together, a devotional classic, is mentioned just four times. Metaxas almost never talks about how the books were written, only that they were being written at all. Most often, the books’ contents are described only when they directly relate to something happening in Bonhoeffer’s life.

This is a missed opportunity, and not only because I want to know more about how the books took shape. American evangelicals have the reputation of being anti-intellectual. That is painting with a broad brush, but the reputation is mostly deserved. Though I read historian Mark Noll’s The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind more than a decade ago, I’m still haunted by that book’s first line: “The scandal of the evangelical mind is that there is not much of an evangelical mind.” I’m not belittling Metaxas’s Bonhoeffer as lightweight, merely a historical thriller or ripping good yarn. Far from it. This is a book of great substance. And Metaxas does a brilliant job of putting Bonhoeffer’s life in its historical and theological context.

But talking more about Bonhoeffer’s books would further remind modern evangelicals that they are, in Noll’s words, “the spiritual descendants of leaders and movements distinguished by probing, creative, fruitful attention to the mind.” It would reinforce the fact that Bonhoeffer inspires and challenges us today not just as a man of action and modern martyr, but as a Christian who thought deeply about what it means to live faithfully as a follower of Jesus. I would like to see readers proceed from Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy to Bonhoeffer’s own Life Together or Cost of Discipleship.

One reason I’m surprised that Metaxas didn’t write more about Bonhoeffer’s books is that Metaxas obviously cares about the intersection of faith, culture, and intellectual vigor. He is the founder and host of Socrates in the City, a speakers series in New York City that has featured the likes of Dinesh D’Souza, Os Guiness, Sir John Polkinghorne, and N.T. Wright. Its tagline is “The Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living.”

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In other Bonhoeffer-related news: If you are in the Pacific Northwest (or are willing to travel), you should think about going to the Ekklesia Project’s Northwest Regional Meeting. The conference is in Portland later this month. The theme is “Engaging the Life and Thought of Dietrich Bonhoeffer.”

[This] conference is dedicated to fostering subversive Christian friendships in which Christians from a variety of denominational, cultural, and economic locations can find encouragement and edification from one another. The fundamental purpose of this meeting is to spur one another on to live faithfully into Christ’s call to radical discipleship.

Our speaker for this year is Barry Harvey. Barry is professor of theology at Baylor University in Waco, Texas. He is the author of Can These Bones Live? and Another City, and has written and spoken extensively on the witness and wisdom of Bonhoeffer.

There is one session on the evening of Friday the 17th. The topic that night is “Learning to Live Polyphonically in a World Come of Age.” Two sessions will be held on Saturday the 18th on the topics of “Praying the Psalms with Dietrich Bonhoeffer” and “A Tale of Two Pastors: Bonhoeffer’s Participation in the Plot Against Hitler.”

You can get more information about the conference at the event’s Facebook page or by contacting Michael Munk here: michaelmunk [at] earthlink.net.

I am going to be there. Are you?

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Serving the Common Good: An Interview with Miroslav Volf

Chris and I recently collaborated on an article about the political role of the local church for the upcoming February/March issue of Neue Magazine. In preparation for writing the article, I had the opportunity to interview Dr. Miroslav Volf about politics, the local church, promoting human flourishing, and his most recent book, A Public Faith: How Followers of Christ Should Serve the Common Good. Dr. Volf is the Henry B. Wright Professor of Systematic Theology at Yale Divinity School and the Founding Director of the Yale Center for Faith & Culture. He is the author of numerous books, including Allah: A Christian Response (2011) and After Our Likeness: The Church as the Image of the Trinity (1998). His book Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (1996) is a classic work. It won the prestigious University of Louisville Grawemeyer Award. It was also included, less prestigiously, in Besides the Bible as one of the 100 books every Christian should read.

The Neue article should be on newsstands any day. In the meantime, here is a transcript of my interview with Dr. Volf.

Continue reading at the Slow Church blog…

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A Tale of Two Manifestos

In February 1909, the Italian poet Filippo Tommaso Marinetti published his Futurist Manifesto in the French newspaper Le Figaro. The manifesto exalted the future over the past, violence and aggression over peace and ecstasy, immorality over morality, men over women, the young over the old, the machine over the land, and the known over the unknown. Marinetti also declared that “the splendor of the world has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of speed.”

Continue reading at the Slow Church blog.

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Further Thoughts about Malcolm X’s Life of Reinvention

As I mentioned in my post yesterday, I am reading the late Dr. Manning Marable’s Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention, which the New York Times chose as one of its Ten Best Books of 2011. One of the things that has been so striking for me is how “in process” Malcolm X was.

Today I learned more about the strategy Malcolm was beginning to formulate and initiate in his final months. He was making overtures to mainstream civil rights leaders and his rhetoric was far less violent. Yet his approach to civil rights didn’t fit neatly into either of the two dominant camps at that time: separatism or integration. Instead, Malcolm X’s strategy was one of internationalism, connecting the struggle for civil rights for blacks in the United States to human rights struggles around the world. He even planned on going to the United Nations to lodge a formal protest against the United States. This was brilliant. I’m not saying I prefer it over Dr. King’s philosophy of integration, but it is a good example of the “mind at work” I talked about yesterday. I know that South African apartheid (apartheid is Afrikaans for “apart-ness”) was part of the U.N. agenda from the very start. It never occurred to me that there might have been discussion about involving the U.N. in matters of American racial segregation.

In general, Malcolm preferred the term “human rights” over the term “civil rights.”

The problem, number one, of the black man in America is beyond America’s ability to solve. It’s a human problem, not an American problem or a Negro problem. And as a human problem, or a world problem, we feel that it should be taken out of the jurisdiction of the United States government and the United States courts and taken into the United Nations in the same manner as the problems of the black man in South Africa, Angola, and other parts of the world, and even the way they’re trying to bring the problems of the Jews in Russia into the United Nations because of violations of human rights. We believe that our problem is one not of civil rights but a violation of human rights. Not only are we denied the right to be a citizen in the United States, we are denied the right to be a human being.

Malcolm X talks about all this and more in an extraordinary clip from CBC-TV’s “Front Page Challenge,” filmed just weeks before his assassination. It’s less than eight minutes long and definitely worth watching.

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What I’m Reading Now: “Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention”

The audiobook I’ve been listening to on my commute – and every other chance I get – is Dr. Manning Marable’s riveting biography, Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention. I’m over two-thirds of the way through the book. I’m at the point in Malcolm’s life when he was been pushed out of the Nation of Islam, he has completed the Hajj to Mecca, and he has just formed the secular Organization of Afro-American Unity. There have been so many striking things about the book, I’m not sure where to begin. But I’ll make a three brief observations.

1. Going into this book, I knew embarrassingly little about Malcolm X. Not only have I never read Malcolm’s autobiography, I haven’t seen the Spike Lee biopic…yet.

2. Malcolm was a leader, but he was also a follower. For years, he willingly submitted himself to his mentor and spiritual leader, Elijah Muhammad, even when Malcolm began to learn how truly flawed Muhammad was. (Malcolm reached a breaking point, however, and rightly so.) He never seemed interested in wealth or fame or power for his own end. Malcolm X didn’t lack for confidence, but there was an admirable humility there too.

3. Maybe I’m being swayed by Dr. Marable’s thesis – his subject’s “life of reinvention” – but I’m struck by how “in process” Malcolm X was. His was a mind always at work. When he was assassinated at the age of 39, that process was cut short. A great loss.

Even as I wrap up this book, Malcolm X remains a complicated figure for me. He seemed adept at diagnosing the illness in the soul of America, the heart disease of racism. But I have rarely agreed with Malcolm’s remedies – or at least the remedies he often called for publicly in his first 38 years: violence, vengeance, and separation. It’s understandable why he would reach these conclusions, but I still can’t agree with them. And yet, along with all of the other changes in the last year of his life, Malcolm seemed to be rethinking remedies too. That process was cut short too.

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Relevant Magazine: Does Voting Matter?

I wrote an essay on politics for for the January/February issue of Relevant Magazine. It was cross-posted today on Relevant’s website:

I cried myself to sleep the night Bill Clinton was elected president in 1992. I was 14—too young to vote but old enough to know America had, at the ballot, formally turned its back on God. I implored God not to turn His back on America. When I woke in the morning, I was surprised how bright it was, even a little offended the sun had risen at all, as if it didn’t know the world was ending.

I pulled the lever for Dole in ’96, hoping to rescue what Rush Limbaugh called “America Held Hostage.” I stayed up all night watching Round One of the Bush/Gore election on a big-screen TV in the church where I was serving as youth pastor. In 2003, bombs rained on Baghdad, and I raised a glass to toast the military might of the United States. In 2007, I was arrested in front of the White House as part of the Christian Peace Witness for Iraq. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I voted for John Kerry, a decision a few of my Christian friends and family interpreted not as the sum of a complicated political equation but as spiritual rebellion.

Continue reading at the Relevant Magazine website…

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