The Raven Foundation

I’m easily frustrated by politics.  It feels like another way of dividing the world up into winners and losers.  Each political season Americans become glued to our televisions, watching MSNBC or Fox News way past our bedtime, to see if our candidate won.  Who’s in?  Who’s out?  Who won?  Who lost?

Politics is about identity.  Whether consciously or unconsciously, we hold our political identity sacred: Republican or Democrat, Liberal or Conservative, Tea or Coffee.  When we stress the importance of our political identity, we begin to emphasize the “difference” between “us” and “them.”  We divide the world not only into winners and loser, but also into good and evil.  We, of course, are the good guys, and they are the bad guys.  Sometimes we even accuse them of being the personification of evil. 

The problem is that our culture believes that the problem is with “differences”: Differences of policies, of opinions, of race, of gender.  The real problem is not differences; rather, the problem is our shared desire.  Our shared desire, or mimetic desire, to win the game and defeat the other is the issue.  Our mutual desire to win escalates to extremes as we are consumed with what Nietzsche called, “The will to power.”  When we win, we are overcome with a sense of elation, a sense of power.  When we lose, a sense of despair and resentment festers and we formulate plans to defeat our opponents.  These plans can easily become more and more extreme, such as:     

Billboards comparing Barack Obama to Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin.

The billboard is not simply the result of crazy Tea Party racists.  I have full confidence that liberals are capable of similar tactics.  Rather, it is a result of the human mimetic desire for power, to win, to defeat the “other.”

I wonder if we will ever move beyond our mimetic addiction to power over and against others.  Will we ever move beyond our tendency to divide the world into “good” and “evil”?  Sure, humans do evil stuff to one another, no doubt about that.  But evil is not a problem only “they” have to deal with.  “We” need to deal with our own evil, too. 

Below are some questions I’ve been grappling with.  I’d like to hear your thoughts on them.

How does the billboard make you feel?

Do you agree that the problem is not with differences but with similar desire?

Is there truth in the accusation made in the billboard?

Do you think we will ever move beyond our tendency to divide the world into good and evil?  Is that even something we should desire?

How do you think one should respond to the billboard?

Truth statements tend to be a dangerous way to start a blog, but here you go: We all believe in truth.  The post-modern world has tried to destroy our belief in truth.  Yet, even the post-modern dictum “Truth is relative” is a truth statement about the relativity of truth.  Try as we might, we can’t get away from truth.

Voltaire spoke one of the great truth statements of the modern era: “Think for yourself and let others enjoy the privilege of doing so too.”  Part of me really likes this statement.  I don’t want to be forced to think a certain way; I’d rather the freedom of choice to think what I want.  Yet, I’m also uncomfortable with the statement for two reasons. First, thinking is never done in isolation, but in community.  We are always taught by others how and what to think.  Event the statement, “Think for yourself” must be taught.  Second, the problem of truth: The statement “Think for yourself” implies that truth resides somewhere deep inside each of us, and if one can just reach down deep enough to pull out that “truth” one will then find one’s true self.   Voltaire’s ending “and let others enjoy the privilege of doing so too” sounds nice and liberal, but a bit naïve.  What happens when the “truth” I find deep inside of myself conflicts with the “truth” you found deep inside of yourself?  Whatever age we are living in (is it modern, post-modern, or post-post-modern?!?) human history shows we will resort to accusation, scapegoating, and violence. 

René Girard has highlighted throughout his career that humans mimic desires, including the desire to grasp at truth. I find Girard’s work liberating.  His work on mimetic theory has helped me understand that “truth” does not exist somewhere deep down inside of me.  Rather, truth is relational.  We don’t exist independently; rather Girard persuasively argues we exist “inter-dividually.”  Yes, I have a relationship with myself, but that truth can never be understood apart from my relationship with my wife, children, friends, co-workers, neighbors, and the stranger on the street. 

Girard’s anthropological work has also enhanced my understanding of Scripture.  For example, I used to be troubled by the truth statement Jesus makes in John 14:6: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.  No one comes to the Father except through me.”  A few years ago, I would deal with such statements in a Jesus Seminar type fashion: “Surely, this is a black bead quote.  Jesus never would have said this about himself!”

I’m no longer concerned about the color of beads.  Whether or not Jesus made the statement or people a generation or two later attributed it to Jesus no longer matters to me.  The truth statement was important for the people who wrote it.  Why?  Because it meant they didn’t possess the truth.  They believed Jesus was and is the way, the truth, and the life.  John wasn’t.  Peter wasn’t.  Mary wasn’t.  Martha wasn’t.  Paul wasn't.  No, they believed the truth was not to be found somewhere deep inside themselves, but in a relationship with Jesus and in community with others.  Truth is found "interdividually," as Girard would put it.

I have also come to appreciate the ending of John 14:6, that no one comes to the Father except through Jesus.  That statement no longer bothers me, because I’ve realized that, like humans, verses don’t exist individually, but inter-dividually. For example, Jesus makes a truth statement a few verses earlier, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places” (John 14:2).  Both statements must be interpreted inter-dependently with other passages.  For another example, in John 10:16 Jesus makes another truth statement, “I have sheep that do not belong to this fold.  I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice.”  

Now those truth statements make me angry.  I would rather believe there is only one dwelling place for me along with those who believe in truth, goodness, beauty, and God the same way I do.  All other sheep should be excluded!  Despite what I want to be the truth, Jesus reveals that truth comes to us in the form of all-embracing Love.  It’s a vulnerable Love because it communes and seeks to help those who are often scapegoated: the broken, poor, sick, hungry, thirsty, and those in prison.  It's a Love that does not exclude, but graciously embraces even those we call our enemies.  It's a love that confronts the violence and oppression in our world, yet refuses to respond with violence and oppression.  It's a vulnerable Love that becomes the human Scapegoat. 

Therein lies the danger of God's truth: It's not something to grasp at, but is a relationship to be offered in the vulnerable Spirit of Love.  It’s hard for me to believe in that God; a God who becomes the human Scapegoat.  Frankly, I don’t want a vulnerable God that we can scapegoat; I want a tattooed, butt kicking God who is out to get the bad guys.  That’s the truth I want.  That's the God I want to follow.  And yet, there’s Jesus, whose truth is revealed in a vulnerable love that includes all and asks his followers to do the same.  Fortunately, the truth of God does not reside in me and my desire to grasp the truth, but in Jesus the Scapegoat who is the truth of God's relational Love that does not respond to violence with revenge, but with forgiveness and peace.  Indeed, his Father’s house has many rooms that are graciously open to all.  That radically inclusive Love and Grace is the way, the truth, and the life.  For that, I am thankful.

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Martin Luther King Jr. is a figure from the recent past who continues to stir our cultural imagination.  Unfortunately, much of our culture has fallen away from King's message and succumbed to forms violence.  Television, movies, music - it seems as though violence has become an accepted part of our culture.  The violence modeled in our culture desensitizes us to our common humanity.  Violence then becomes easier and easier to justify.  Fortunately, King continues to model an alternative and provides the antidote to the contagion of violence in our culture.  That antidote is love.  In his book Strength to Love, King wrote apocalyptically about the decisions that face humanity.  Either we will be consumed by a spirit of hate and destroy one another, or we will survive by the spirit of love that embraces even our enemies.  King wrote:

Upheaval after upheaval has reminded us that modern man is traveling along a road called hate, in a journey that will bring us to destruction and damnation.  Far from being the pious injunction of a Utopian dreamer, the command to love one's enemy is an absolute necessity for our survival.  Love even for enemies is the key to the solution of the problems of our world.  Jesus is not an impractical idealist: he is the practical realist. (49-50)

For more on King, click here: http://www.ravenfoundation.org/exemplars/martin-luther-king-jr

The landscape of American Christianity, indeed, of world Christianity, is changing.  Of that there can be no doubt.  Terms like “postmodern Christianity” and “emergent Christianity” permeate our culture.  Unfortunately, while few people actually know what these terms mean, there is a palpable sense that change is afoot.  That change scares many, while it excites others. 

In his book The Jesus Driven Life, Michael Hardin explores the transformation Christianity is experiencing today.  He has one primary answer for the many dilemmas facing 21^st century Christians.  That answer is simple, but far from simplistic.  The answer, of course, is Jesus.  And that’s the obvious answer – middle school youth groups throughout the United States (including mine!) implicitly know the answer to difficult questions posed in youth group meetings is always an emphatic . . . “Jesus!”  Unfortunately, the wisdom of our middle school students has become blurred in American Christianity.  This is one of Michael’s greatest points, as he argues that North American Christianity has a “theology (a doctrine of God) without a Christology (a doctrine of Jesus)” (157).

The problem of a Christless Christianity is nothing new.  For much of its history, Christianity has scapegoated Jesus right out of the Gospel.  We have unconsciously replaced the God of Jesus with what Michael terms a “Janus faced god.”  I think this term is very helpful, for Janus was a Roman god with two heads that faced in both directions.  The two heads of Janus symbolized the god’s dual will to violence and to peace. 

The spirit of Janus infects all of human culture.  Indeed, it even infects the Bible.  Using the insights of mimetic theory, or mimetic realism, Michael makes a cogent and a very understandable case that humans project our own violence onto God, or the gods.  This process justifies our use of violence against one another, for if the gods are violent, our violence is justified, too.  

 Michael points out that, despite the biblical affirmation that God is One (Deut 6:4), the people who wrote the Bible often fell into a Janus faced view of God.  This is one of the strongest aspects of The Jesus Driven Life.  Michael doesn’t run away from the violence in the Bible, but offers a way to interpret that violence.  For Christians, the answer is not our own interpretation of the Bible, but to interpret the Bible through the lens of Jesus.  If we neglect Jesus in favor of our own interpretation, we will succumb to the spirit of Janus.  (Sola scriptura no longer works!)  Michael claims, “As far as I am concerned, in Christianity, it is all about Jesus or it is about nothing” (273).   

Throughout his life, death, and resurrection, Jesus finally and concretely reveals that God is One and thus does not have a dual will.  Rather, God’s will is love.  For example, when Jesus was asked which commandment in the Law is the greatest, he replied, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment.  And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’  On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets” (Matthew 22:36-40).  Michael reflects on this move that Jesus makes in the transformation of the human understanding of God from a Janus faced god to the Abba of Jesus, stating, “God is not a mixture of yin and yang, good and evil, terror and love.  God is consistent with God’s self.  The gods of our theologies might be mixed up, but the one who made the heavens and the earth is and always will be the One we are called to love because God is Love” (35).

Placing Jesus at the center of our lives changes the way we understand not only the Bible, but also our personal lives, our relationship with others, and our relationship with the world.  Let me provide an example.  I know Michael, and I think he would appreciate me saying this: Michael is no saint.  He has no pretense to holiness.  But Michael knows something at the core of his being.  He knows that Jesus changes everything.  I once asked Michael how he could be so sure that there is no wrath in God, but that God’s only desire is love.  “Brother,” that’s one of his favorite terms, “I know God is love because I trust Jesus.”      

Indeed, when Christians begin to trust in the all-embracing love of God revealed in Jesus, the world will be transformed.    I hope and pray that The Jesus Driven Life will become a primary guide for Christians as we continue to move into the 21^st century.

You can purchase The Jesus Driven Life, and the companion DVD series here:  http://www.preachingpeace.org/jdl/ and also on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Jesus-Driven-Life-Reconnecting-Humanity/dp/1450709451

For more of Michael's work, see his website Preaching Peace: http://www.preachingpeace.org/

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Father Robert Barron has become one of my favorite youtube commentators.  In his relatively short videos, he discusses movies, historical events, and theology.  I don't agree with everything he says, but I always appreciate his thoughtful and careful analysis and his affinity with mimetic theory.

Here, Father Barron discusses some positive and negative aspects of Independence Day.  I admire his ability to both appreciate aspects of the American political system while also critiquing the American idolatrous spirit of independent freedom.  Mimetic theory helps us understand that our excessive devotion to freedom can quickly put us in rivalry with one another, as we each assert our "freedom" at the expense of another's freedom.  Examples of the idolatry of freedom leading to violence and destruction against others abound not only in American history, but also in world history.  The biblical story, as alluded to by Father Barron, begins the process of inviting us not into independent freedom, but into the dependent freedom of love.  The freedom to love is a dependent freedom, of course, because love is always dependent on a relationship with an "other."

Indeed, cheers for the Fourth of July, but as a person of faith, I agree with Father Barron and give it a cautious two cheers.

“War is bigger than any one man or woman, whether a private, a general, or a president.”

That was President Obama’s explanation for ousting General Stanley McChrystal from leading the war in Afghanistan.   McChrystal’s recent comments in Rolling Stone made his “resignation” inevitable.  The article is called The Runaway General: Stanley McChrystal, Obama’s top commander in Afghanistan, has seized control of the war by never taking his eye off the real enemy: The wimps in the White House.

Quite a title.

The article reveals the growing frustration between Obama and McChrystal.  It seems they got off to a good start: When Obama took office he fired Gen David McKiernan and replaced him with McChrystal as the top general in Afghanistan.  Obama made clear his goal to refocus the war effort to Afghanistan during his presidential campaign, “I want the American people to understand we have a clear and focused goal: to disrupt, dismantle and defeat Al-Queda in Pakistan and Afghanistan.” Obama then made McChrystal the key element in that plan.

Unfortunately, the war in Afghanistan is still a mess.  Obama never uses the word “victory” when talking about that war.  As Major Gen. Bill Mayville, McChrystal’s chief of operations in Afghanistan states in the Rolling Stone article, “It’s not going to look like a win, smell like a win or taste like a win.  This is going to end in an argument.”   Obama’s words “disrupt, dismantle, and defeat” are still elusive hopes for a war that transcends anyone’s ability to control it.

Still, after reading the article, it’s hard for me to find the smoking gun that got McChrystal fired.  I wonder if this is another case of the media fanning the flames of rivalry.  Indeed, McChrystal and his buddies say some obnoxious things in the article, but Obama clearly knew of McChrystal’s life-long struggle with authority figures.  Before the Rolling Stone article he had been quoted calling Vice President Joe Biden’s war strategy “short sighted” and that it would lead to the state of “Chaos-istan.”  So, why fire him now?

There is growing frustration with this war.  But maybe that’s the general problem with war.  War is based on frustrated relationships between peoples and nations.  Frustration always needs an outlet and  McChrystal has become the outlet.

Obama’s statement that “War is bigger than any one man or woman, whether a private, a general, or a president” shows his great acumen.  War, indeed, is bigger than anyone.  It has a life of its own.  It takes on a divine status.  The article ends suggesting this very divine status: “So far, counterinsurgency has succeeded only in creating a never-ending demand for the primary product supplied by the military: perpetual war.”  The very strategy that was to end the war has only made the war seem perpetual. 

As the realization settles in that this war is uncontrollable, frustration permeates the military landscape.  War, indeed, is bigger.  So McChrystal had to be replaced by Petraeus, yet has anything really changed?   

_{Photo: Getty}

The real battle just begun

To claim the victory Jesus won

On . . .

Sunday Bloody Sunday

Sunday Bloody Sunday

                                -U2, Sunday Bloody Sunday

David Cameron’s apology last week for the United Kingdom’s role in “Bloody Sunday” allowed us to reflect on the mimetic nature of violence.  The statement that violence breeds more violence is almost cliché at this point, but phrases usually become clichés for a reason: They are true. 

Apologies can only do so much, of course.  They can’t bring back the 14 protesters who were killed that day, nor can they bring back those who were killed in the aftermath of mutually escalating desire for revenge. 

The escalating desire for revenge is universal.  It’s destructive force impacts national and international politics, but also impacts business, churches, friendships, and families.  In our resentment and desire for revenge, few of us are courageous enough to admit wrong-doing and few of us are able to extend a hand of reconciliation.

Which is why I think Cameron’s apology last week was important.  Maybe it was just a symbolic gesture, but I’m a firm believer in symbolism.  In a world where the story of violence so often dominates our worldview,  I find any nonviolent story intriguing because it points to another story, another possibility.

Cameron’s admission of guilt and the subsequent offer of peace and reconciliation, although largely symbolic, was not easy to do.  Any admission of misconduct leaves one vulnerable as one risks becoming the object of revenge.

The only solution to the spirit of revenge is the spirit peace and reconciliation. That, I hope, is the spirit in which Cameron made his apology.   That spirit is also the victory Jesus won on the cross, and, as U2 suggests, also on Bloody Sunday.  Jesus was an innocent victim who was killed by the machine of human violence.  Jesus stands in the place occupied by all the victims of human violence.  Jesus didn’t just die 2,000 years ago on a Roman cross; he also died with the victims of Bloody Sunday. 

To the worldview that glorifies winners, Jesus was a loser, and still is a loser.  But for those of us who desire a different story, one of peace and reconciliation, Jesus offers the only solution.  To claim the victory Jesus won on the cross is to intentionally live a life of forgiveness and reconciliation: “Father,” Jesus requested as he gasped for air while hanging on his cross, “forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23:34).  While we are caught up in the mimetic spell of violence and revenge, few of us really know what we are doing.  The only solution to the spirit of mimetic violence is the spirit of intentional forgiveness.  That spirit is the hope for a transformed world that is based not on the desire for revenge, but on the desire for reconciliation.               

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Adam discusses First Chronicles.

God tells David he can't build the Temple because David has shed too much blood.  Solomon, whose name relates to the Hebrew word for peace, rest, and wholeness, shalom, will build the Temple. Adam argues this passage from First Chronicles 22 is meant to challenge the human idea that God desires violence.  Rather, it is humans that desire violence and we project that desire on to God.  God desires peace, rest, and wholeness - or shalom. 

Join the conversation and let us know what you think!

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The real battle just begun

To claim the victory Jesus won

On . . .

Sunday Bloody Sunday

Sunday Bloody Sunday

                                -U2, Sunday Bloody Sunday

Earlier this week David Cameron, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, apologized for “Bloody Sunday.”  On that horrific Sunday in 1972, 14 unarmed civil rights protesters were killed in Northern Ireland by British soldiers.  Robert Mackey of the New York Times reported that this was a pivotal event in the history of Northern Ireland because it convinced “many people to turn away from peaceful demonstrations in favor of violence.”  Theunis Bates, of AOLNews makes a similar statement, “Believing  that peaceful protest in the face of such violence was futile, a flood of young Catholics enlisted in the underground Irish Republican Army – and some went on to commit their own terrorist atrocities on unarmed, innocent civilians.”

Mackey and Bates point to the fundamental problem of violence: its mimetic nature.  We each believe our own violence is justified in the name of God, country, or our own version of goodness.  The problem is that humans cannot control our violence; rather, once the spirit of violence is unleashed, it controls us.  The British soldiers’ violence was futile; it didn’t solve anything.  Instead, it created further justifications for violence and revenge.  Peaceful protest is no longer an option at this point, as the spiral of imitative violence infects hearts and destroys the world.  U2 reveals this dynamic of violence in their song Sunday Bloody Sunday with these words:

And the battles just begun

There’s many lost but tell me who has won

The trench is dug within our heart

 and mothers, children, brothers, sisters torn apart.

René Girard gives a similar prophetic warning in his new book Battling to the End.  Succinctly put, Girard claims, “The worst thing we can now do is believe in violence.”  Yet, despite the warnings of U2 and Girard, much of the human story continues to revolve around mimetic violent. 

I believe that the only hope for our world is for us to tell a different story.  Cameron may have given us a glimpse of that story on Tuesday.  38 years after “Bloody Sunday,” Cameron apologized on behalf of the British Government.  “I never want to believe anything bad about our country,” Cameron began.   “But the conclusions of this report are absolutely clear.  There is no doubt. There is nothing equivocal.  There are no ambiguities.  What happened on Bloody Sunday was both unjustified and unjustifiable.  It was wrong.”

After hearing Cameron’s apology, I was reminded of the lyrics at the beginning of this blog.  Humanity’s real battle is to claim the victory Jesus won in the face of human violence: to offer peace and reconciliation instead of violent revenge.  Indeed, violence has a mimetic nature, but so does the offer of peace and reconciliation.  I’ll be discussing that topic in my next blog.  I hope you’ll join me for that conversation.    

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Adam discusses Rodney Stark's comments on the crusades. 

Admittedly, it is easy for 21st century Christians to criticize those who participated in the Crusades of the 10-12th centuries. In that context, do you think you could you have made a decision other than war? 

For Rodney Stark's book, God's Battalions: The Case for the Crusades, go to http://www.amazon.com/Gods-Battalions-Crusades-Rodney-Stark/dp/0061582611/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1276530824&sr=1-1

For a great book on the cursades and mimetic theory, see Anthony Bartlett's Cross Purposes: The Violent Grammar of Christian Atonement.  http://www.amazon.com/Cross-Purposes-Violent-Christian-Atonement/dp/1563383365/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1276530924&sr=1-1