In the meantime...

You can find me in two new places on the interwebs:

Twitter: @jdpenny

LinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/in/johnpenniman


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Continued delays likely...

This Spring, I accepted an offer from the PhD program at Fordham University to study Historical Theology. I couldn't be more excited about the situation. My wife and I are both anxiously awaiting the move to New York City and I am looking forward to beginning studies once again.

This blog was a helpful forum during my time as Masters student and I hope to pick it back up when the academic routine is, well, a bit more routine. But as for now, I have far too many other fish to fry in preparation for the next chapter of life.

I hope to attend the Reconsiderations III conference at Villanova this Fall...perhaps that would be a good occasion to resume posting. Either way, best wishes to you all during the Summer months.

"Conjugal" Love...

"They soon proceeded to conjugate more than verbs and she became pregnant."

-Carter Lindberg describing the affair of Abelard and Heloise in his book Love: A Brief History through Western Christianity (73).

Stating the Inevitable

Posting has slowed to a crawl.

As a result, I think it prudent to take an official hiatus from substantive blogging for a time. I am working two jobs and in the midst of making decisions about PhD programs. Perhaps, once I am settled in my new situation I will be able to get back in the habit.

At the moment, I lack both the time and motivation.

Carry on.

A friend 'Kills the Buddha'

I have often posted about the website Killing the Buddha on this blog. I am an avid reader and a huge fan of their book. Recently, a close friend of mine from college had an article published there. I encourage you to check it out here.

The Simpson's on Grad Students...

nuff said:

Santa Claus and Reinhold Neibuhr...

A few weeks ago, I was listening to This American Life on NPR and they did a really interesting story about the first Guild of Authentically Bearded Santa Claus's. The story was titled "Santa Fight Club" in the episode Scenes from a Mall.

Santa Fight Club essentially told the story of how a few Santa-impersonators decided to form an official organization: The Amalgamated Order of Real Bearded Santas (or, AORBS). What was an innocuous and mostly collegial/practical gathering soon descended into not merely a Christmas Parable (as Ira Glass calls it), but a parable about the destructive inertia at the core of all social organization.

Without spoiling too much (you really should listen to the story: its as funny as it is depressing), Santa Fight Club is about two different leaders within the Santa Claus industry who came to lead rival factions within AORBS. These factions created such discord that mutiny, slander, coersion, and even physical abuse soon ensued.

All this reminded me of Reinhold Neibuhr. The famous American theologian (also apparently Obama's favorite philosophical influence) once suggested that - for social groups - love is the impossible possibility. And while all social groups must aim for acheiving love, the best result will ever only be justice...and rarely that. This draws strongly on the Augustinian notion of libido dominandi, or the lust for power which inherently accompanies social organization.

The fact that the dysfunction between two Santa Claus's can throw an entire guild of Santas into chaos (ultimately leading to a quasi-totalitarian St. Nick dictatorship) was a most startling reminder of how closely libido dominandi lurks beneath the surface of even our most leisurely organizatons.

Jack Bauer and The Prince: The Realpolitik of 24...

In the debate over the use of extreme interrogation techniques, a hypothetical situation is often posed: "what if we knew that a terrorist attack was imminent and the only opportunity to stop it from happening was to forcefully extract information from someone currently in detention? Would this not represent the most straightforward example of why we must not ban torture?"


It is compelling scenario...


It is also the very foundation on which the TV show 24 has vindicated its hero Jack Bauer over the entire course of the series. He is, simply put, the incarnation of all hypothetical situations which attempt to justify torture. He is Machiavelli's maxim in the flesh, in which swift and often brutal action is required in ordered to preserve the status quo. This critique has been levelled at the show since its inception, but with the new season underway it seems even more pronounced.





For a while I was an avid watcher of 24, often plowing through several DVD's in one sitting. Several seasons ago, I just lost my appetite for it. Call it the law of diminishing returns: rather than excited or fixated, 24 began to make me uncomfortable and irritated. I felt that 24's gimmick served not really to entertain but instead reinforced its political ideology by reminding the viewer (through an omni-present doomsday clock) of the clear and present danger which is always on the cusp of happening...

In this sense, it is almost a pornographic form of political suspense, because the climax is always about to happen and yet never fully arrives. In so doing, the show creates a Baudrillardian spectacle in which the audience cannot help but fixate until some sort of resolution is discovered. But because the parameters of the show are so strict and so full of constant anxiety, it becomes natural for the audience to accept nearly any decision made by the protagonists in order to bring some relief to the dire circumstances. The audience is forced to project their own desire for relief onto the rigidly constrained and poorly explained (who has time for explanations with a clock ticking!!!) decision making of Jack Bauer.


But the show is incredibly formulaic. The web in which the audience (much less the main character) gets caught is not woven by creative (and lets be honest, realistic) external circumstance but rather by the rigid internal political logic forced upon the narrative by its writers and producers (in their world, it is not Republican v. Democrat but rather the heroic v. the cowardly). An interesting article about the shows executive producer and creator Joel Surnow can be found here.

How often will the intelligence community -in the span of 24 hours - discover multiple moles within their ranks, drive back and forth across the greater Los Angeles area in less than 10 minutes, execute an innocent co-worker, proceed from complete ignorance about a terror plot to stymying its ultimate goals, all the while never stopping to take even a potty break? Perhaps this really does happen at the FBI, CIA, or NSA...but it seems really unlikely. And, while all entertainment requires the suspension of disbelief, it is odd that we would do so for a show with such an explicit political agenda which has already been granted a voice in Washington!

(A couple years back, the Heritage Foundation hosted a forum on terrorism titled "24 and America's Image in the War on Terror: Fact, Fiction, or Does it Matter?" The panel inlcuded Michael Chertoff, a few analysts from a think-tank on terrorism, and the cast of 24! It was moderated by Rush Limbaugh. Dick Cheney and, astonishingly, John McCain are both huge fans of the show. This merely points toward the shows permeation within actual policy).

I would assume that terror threats rarely emerge ex nihilo as they do in the 24 world, but rather there is an accumulation of hints, clues, and forewarnings which the intelligence community must analyze, investigate, and assess over time (9/11, for instance, was not an "out of nowhere" event regardless of how unprepared we were. As the Time article linked above points out, a political thriller that investigates the origins and catalysts of terrorist activity becomes more of a left-ish cautionary tale, like Syriana , Paradise Now, or even The Seige). By thus negating the rigidity of a doomsday clock on every analysts desk, a more thoughtful and informed decision-making process would seem to be the way in which counter-terrorism really plays out. But the prolonging of intelligence-gathering and decision-making neuters the spectacle of its power to co-opt our moral compass with an "action-by-unquestionable necessity" logic. With more time, 24 would be quite boring...Kind of like Tom Clancy's Jack Ryan, without any of the action sequences.

Perhaps I am wrong about this.

But I am curious about how the rhetorical force of 24's narrative and logic has influenced the American public's perception on the efficacy or necessity of torture. Jack Bauer seems to be the champion and enactment-in-spectacle of all pro-torture arguments played out on prime-time television every year. And while he plays a tortured soul, he seems to have a rather clean conscience when it comes to actual torture. I am left wondering what, if any, lessons are learned at the end of one day in 24. It reminds me of one of the final lines from the film Burn After Reading (pardon the foul language):

CIA Superior: What did we learn, Palmer?
CIA Officer: I don't know, sir.
CIA Superior: I don't fuckin' know either. I guess we learned not to do it again.
CIA Officer: Yes, sir.
CIA Superior: I'm fucked if I know what we did.
CIA Officer: Yes, sir, it's, uh, hard to say
CIA Superior: Jesus Fucking Christ.

Rather than leaving the show to incite the ire of the far left or the tacit acceptance of the far right, I think that all politically informed and concerned Americans should become familiar with this show so that we might raise the level of public debate on torture and terrorism in this country.

But perhaps it ought also raise our level of discourse on the violent spectacle that is American entertainment and the rigid logic which we allow it to impose on us. Lest I com across as judgmental; I don't think watching the show makes you a bad person. As a former fan, I am merely curious what it is that keeps us coming back for more Jack each season?

In Anticipation of God's Condescension Towards Humanity...

...Jesus becomes condescending.

(H/T to Kevin who linked me to this by simply typing "funny jesus" into google images. A warning though: some of the other material is not for the faint of heart.)

*****

How many countries can you name in 5 minutes?

This quiz is addictive....and educational!

I got 59 on my first try (embarrassing!), 79 on my third, and 110 on my fifth. I find that I like to name them by continent (i.e. start with N. America, S. America, Europe, Asia, Africa) but inevitably run out of time. On several occasions I was able to name Lesotho, Fiji, Azerbaijan, and Liechtenstein (don't forget Vatican City!!!) but somehow forgot Australia and New Zealand (sincere apologies to my antipodean friends).

Tell me how you do, and how you did it.

*****

"'Seek More Profitable Sights': Augustine, Secular Spectatorship, and the Spectacula of the Church" (3)

III

Markus has helpfully reminded us that many of Augustine’s references to the spectacles come not only in his sermons and scriptural expositions, but also were most likely delivered in Carthage rather than Hippo. This setting would have undoubtedly influenced his view of the laity and the types of activities or emotional dispositions to which they were inclined. Specifically, the spectacles would have been far more prevalent.

Augustine’s Exposition of Psalm 39 is a perfect example of this. Moreover, it integrates his general observations on social custom which we find in De Doctrina with his concern for the spiritual health of the individual in the audience which dominates his approach in the Confessions. In short, I would contend that this particular writing represents some of Augustine’s most mature thought on the function of spectacles in society and, necessarily, the role of the exempla in the Church.

Augustine begins his commentary on Psalm 39 with a description of the different kinds of persecution which the Church has faced. Having overcome the lion, he says, the Christian community must be vigilant against the snake. Because while the lion – by which he clearly means overt persecution – roars and devours, the snake – a symbol of apostasy, heresy, and apathy – deceives and misleads. It is from this basis that Augustine’s comments shift to the role of the righteous who, in the words of Paul, are called to “be imitators of me, as I am of Christ” (1 Cor. 11). He says that the Christian will

See on the one hand a narrow path, and on the other a wide road; few take the former, but many the latter…Do not count the crowds of people who throng the wide roads, filling the circus tomorrow, shouting their glee on the city’s birthday while degrading the city by their disgraceful behavior. Take no notice of them. (EP 39, 201)

While Augustine’s tone towards the spectacles in this passage becomes increasingly hostile – describing them as “empty things” and “lying foolishness” – their civic importance and popularity is not lost on him.

He anticipates that many new – and perhaps more importantly, many nominal – Christians will be unable or unwilling to give up their affinity for the shows. Rather than chastise them, Augustine offers an alternative to the rest of the congregation: “Let the person addicted to shows be led away from that gratification of the eyes and in our company seek better and more profitable sights, which will give him joy when he discovers them” (EP 39, 207). Augustine then draws analogies from the spectacles of society to the exempla of the Church: like the charioteer who must control four horses without “slipping and stumbling”, the Christian must control licentiousness, cowardice, injustice, and rashness. Like the actor who must learn to perfect balance and timing as a tight-rope walker, the Christian must learn to walk on the tumultuous seas of the world like Peter did towards Christ without falling due to faithlessness (EP 39, 205).

Augustine’s rhetoric of analogy reaches its denouement when he proclaims, “You want to watch spectacles? Very well, be a spectacle yourself. And in case you weaken, keep your eye on someone who went before you and said, ‘We have been set up as a spectacle to this world, and to angels and to mortals’” (EP 39, 206; quoting Paul from 1 Cor. 4:9). Here, Augustine’s reaction towards the spectacles reaches its most definitive point. Acknowledging the power of a culture’s festivals and shows, Augustine hopes to channel that energy towards the discipleship within and spiritual development of the Christian community. It is little wonder, then, that Augustine concludes his discussion on the temptation of the shows by pointing to the saints and martyrs: “We keep these examples before us, and feast our eyes on them, and hope to imitate them. These are the shows that Christianity puts on. God himself watches from on high, encourages us to participate, and gives us help" (EP 39, 212).

IV

In his Christianity and the Secular, Robert Markus concluded that “any reading of Augustine that denies the legitimacy or value of secular political or social structures and of the established practices of a secular culture in a Christian perspective is a misreading” (C&S, 45). This is true. But it is also true that Augustine could not help but critique those same practices for the ways in which they disordered and distracted minds which should be growing in love for God; and the spectacles were a chief culprit. It is the way in which Augustine appropriates these events for the life and maturation of the church that is somewhat surprising. Rather than renunciation, Augustine makes a somewhat modern move and tries to be “relevant” by suggesting that the Church create its own, better spectacles. Or, simply, that the Church out-narrate the culture. Rather than polarizing spheres of secular and ecclesial activity, this move would serve to further obscure the boundary in Augustine’s time and in our own.

When I originally proposed this paper, I imagined that a study of Augustine’s work on the spectacles would reveal new and fresh perspectives on his understanding of the secular. While I do believe that is the case, what is most striking about the Bishop’s discussion of the theater and games was how often it directly related to (and even subsumed within) his work on the significance of the exemplum within the Christian life. In a society so easily distracted, the question Augustine concerned himself with later in life was not simply “what activities are superfluous, self-indulgent, useful or necessary?” Rather, the central question for Augustine seemed to be “On what do our people fix their attention, and what affect does that have on their mind and behavior?” Certainly, this had ramifications for how he viewed the interaction between the Civitas Dei and the Civitas Terrena; namely, as Augustine came to view the former in less romantic and more eschatological terms, its boundary with the latter became increasingly difficult to define.

In a recent work, John Milbank has defined the spectacles of modern life as “recreational relaxation precisely as the diminution of life” (BR, 31). And while the shows and games of our own time have demonstrated a capacity for religious (perhaps even virtuous) expression, it is unlikely that these changes would have fundamentally altered Augustine’s opinion. The Bishop’s concern was that the cult of personality, the unchecked manipulation of the emotions, and the consequent losing of one’s self diminished any real value that a spectacle might have. And while Augustine would probably concede today (as it seems he did in his own time) that some spectacles can be useful towards social cohesion; it is unlikely that he would ever view them as necessary. That category, as we have seen, belongs solely to the work of discipleship within the community of faith.

Historians like Markus, Frederik van Der Meer, and Carol Harrison have provided helpful initial glances into the function of the spectacles in Augustine’s thought. And yet, there remains a wealth of resources within this topic that remains untapped. For instance, how does Augustine's approach to the sacraments provide a parallel to his interaction with spectacles? What about the ways in which he describes the semiotic nature of things, words, and the Word? With such questions still lingering, I would be excited to see not only further historical analysis of the occasions for and structure of these particular writings, but also further constructive reflection (like that of Milbank) which seeks to map the trajectory of Augustine’s thought into more modern theological conversations. I am convinced that this avenue of inquiry will reveal fresh contours in Augustine's thought; not only in his political theology, but also (and perhaps more profoundly) in his ecclesiology as well as his spiritual theology.

*****

Seek More Profitable Sights: Augustine, Secular Spectatorship, and the Spectacula of the Church (2)

II

In line with recent scholarship, I approach the Confessions NOT as an “autobiography.” Charles Mathewes has helpfully described such readings as “presumptuous.” Rather, I am inclined to agree with Lewis Ayres, who has called Augustine’s most popular work “the gradual revelation of a manifesto for theological practice.” Put differently, in the Confessions the reader is invited to participate in God’s drawing of Augustine through his intellectual, social, and spiritual development. A development in which the end results (both for the author and for the reader) remain mysteriously hidden in God’s providence. In this light, I find it significant that the theater (in Book III) and the Coliseum (in Book VI) are presented as modes of living which must be replaced through the counter-narratives represented by the exemplary lives of people like Antony and Victorinus.

The function of the exempla in Augustine’s theology of the Christian life cannot be overstated in this context. For the Bishop, the movement of conversion requires that the Church have clear examples of how affections can be modified, replaced, or redirected. As Ayres has noted, “In part, then, conversion involves accepting that God has shaped one’s life to be an encouragement for the others who accept this providential action in their own lives.” Therefore, it should come as little surprise that Augustine presents his (as well as Alypius’s) involvement in the spectacles as the result of peer influence and societal custom. And, alternatively, the conversion of Antony and Victorinus as a counter-influence towards a new social mode of being.

It is helpful to take a moment and examine the rhetoric used by Augustine in the Confessions to describe the two spectacles. There, his reservations regarding the shared traditions of culture are placed in stark contrast with the kind of community which fosters discipleship and spiritual development through the imitation of alternative traditions, practices, and habits of thought. With this in mind, Augustine first describes his experience in the theater:

…my longing was not to experience, myself, miseries such as I saw on stage. I wanted only to hear stories and imaginary legends of sufferings which, as it were, scratched me on the surface. Yet like the scratches of fingernails, they produced inflamed spots, pus, and repulsive sores. That was my kind of life. Surely, my God, it was no real life at all? (III.ii.4)

Put simply, the theater was like an opiate; reducing the emotional and psychological dispositions of its audience to a mirror superficially reflecting the fictitious affections displayed on stage. Augustine’s critique here is not so much that the content of the theater was objectionable, but rather that its affect on the audience created duplicitous personalities more moved by the drama of fiction than the drama of their own lives; moved, that is, without the capacity to respond.

His description of the Gladiatorial games is somewhat different. On the one hand, he remains more concerned with the effects of the spectacle on the human mind than with the content itself. On the other, this psychological affect was notably distinct (and, perhaps, opposite) from that of the theater. He begins by explaining how Alypius had been “seized by an incredible obsession” for gladiatorial spectacles and “to an unbelievable degree” (VI.viii.13). We are then told that Alypius

opened his eyes. He was struck in the soul by a wound graver than the gladiator in his body, whose fall had caused the roar. The shouting entered by his ears and forced open his eyes. Thereby it was the means of wounding and striking to the ground a mind still more bold than strong, and the weaker for the reason that he presumed on himself when he ought to have relied on you. As soon as he saw the blood, he at once drank in savagery and did not turn away. His eyes were riveted. He imbibed madness. Without any awareness of what was happening to him, he found delight in the murderous contest and was inebriated by bloodthirsty pleasure.

What we find in the Coliseum is not the paralyzing of authentic emotion and replacing it with fictitious and stagnant ones, but rather the mob-like boiling up of unfettered and sadistic passions. In a sense, the simple losing of one’s self – the losing of one’s mind – in the midst of a raucous and unruly crowd paired with the violence and suffering below.

Absent from Augustine’s descriptions is any commentary on (or outright rejection of) the traditions of Roman society. Unlike De Doctrina where Augustine’s attention was focused on the broader activities of a diverse culture and how they should be evaluated; the Confessions is a noetic journey; the ‘gradual revelation’ of intellectual, spiritual, and moral development of one mind, and the ways in which it is distracted and disordered on its journey towards the love of God.

Thus, in contrast to cultural spectacles, the exempla within the Christian community represent a new kind of spectacle: in the lives of the saints we have dramatic narratives, passionate convictions, and a social cohesion which is formed through their shared observation within the Church. One of the crucial distinctions, however, between the spectacles of culture and the spectacula (or exempla) of the Church is how Augustine believed that only the latter could call the audience into authentic participation. While the actors of the theater paralyzed the audience with false emotions or the gladiator of the coliseum fomented reckless and destructive passions – the exempla pointed to Christ through persuasive actions of charity, divinely ordered affections, and – crucially – called the audience to join them on “stage.”

My contention is that this theme, while implicit in the Confessions, comes to its fullest and most explicit expression in Augustine’s Exposition of Psalm 39. And in the section that follows, I will demonstrate that the Exposition of Psalm 39 represents Augustine’s most mature understanding of the intersection between ecclesial praxis and secular custom.

*****

Rest In Peace...

I have heard an unsettling rumor today that William Placher, theologian and professor of Religion at Wabash College, passed away recently.

I have not seen any official confirmation. If it is true, we can well add his name to the list of those theologians - like Colin Gunton and Stanley Grenz - who passed on far too early in their promising and productive careers.

He was a prolific writer and important thinker in the field modern systematic theology. While his voice will be missed, his work will continue to be read and discussed for years to come.

**UPDATE**

Thanks to Evan for linking to a newspaper article confirming the sad news.

The Dark Knight

The Dark Knight

I am inclined to agree wholeheartedly with Matt's assessment of the film and just leave my comments at that...but its just too damn good not to talk about!

First, it is hard to imagine that such an adaptation would have ever been possible after Batman and Robin all but destroyed the franchise 10+ years ago with its campy, poorly written, poorly cast, and horribly acted portrayal of this icon. To be honest, even the darker, more gritty Tim Burton attempts (Batman & Batman Returns) seemed to reflect more of Burton's personality than a genuine attempt at bringing the spirit of Batman to the big screen.

In Batman Begins, Christopher Nolan didn't merely resurrect a comatose and embarassing franchise...he did what the previous directors could not: attempt an authentic adaptation, faithful to the world and characters of the original comic books without letting artistic license become the sole guiding force. The casting was gutsy of both lead and supporting parts (Christian Bale, mind you, was no leading man at the time). But, much like the recent revival of the 007 series using Daniel Craig, Christian Bale present us with a more complex, tortured, and ultimately human hero...which the previous installments attempted to white-wash with an assumed moral superiority, banal one-liners and sexual innuendo.

But Batman Begins was a setup film. (Don't get me wrong, I loved it. But it sets the stage for The Dark Knight.) It provided the socio-psychological background of a dark, morally ambiguous world where great heroes create even greater villains. In this regard, The Dark Knight stands as the best film in the franchise and perhaps the best comic book adaptation to date.

Enter another bit of gutsy casting on Nolan's part: Heath Ledger, who supposedly spent a month locked in a hotel room trying to "become" the Joker. He worked on posture, diction, mannerisms, and even psychological disposition. He read only the early comic books in which the Joker first appeared and kept a journal as the Joker. If this sounds a little over-the-top; well, just go see the movie. Ledger's performance is disturbing, paralyzing, and genuine: reminiscent of Daniel Day-Lewis's portrayal of Daniel Plainview earlier this year. If The Dark Knight is the best comic book adaptation, then it is due in large part to the fact that Ledger is the best villain to date. There is buzz of an Oscar nomination for his role. I am not sure if a comic book character can pull down an Oscar, but if he does it better be for Best Actor...Ledger is NOT in a supporting role in this film. He is at the helm. In fact, I agree with Matt's assessment. Bale's performance is mediocre, at best. And the only thing that saved me from getting annoyed at his growling "bat-voice" was the fact that I was so preoccupied with the Joker.

Nolan said that his inspiration for this film comes from the 1995 Pacino/Deniro movie Heat. This makes sense to me. In The Dark Knight, as in Heat, we have two diametrically opposed characters who nevertheless require the other person for their own existence in a self-perpetuating cycle. The moral ambiguity of the one is often reflected by the other, though they stand on opposite sides of the law. The relationship and psychology is complex. The righteousness of the one and the wickedness of the other are often blurred.

All in all, The Dark Knight has set the bar incredibly high for comic book adaptations which so often settle for cliche. As matt pointed out, this film proves that blockbusters can be eye-popping and cerebral at the same time...and make just as much money ($60m opening night?!). Go and see it. Nothing better will come to your Megaplex this summer.

(4.75/5; A great script, a great cast, and perhaps one of the greatest portrayals of a villain in the history of cinema. Hyperbole? Maybe. But try to argue against it once you've seen the film).

Seek More Profitable Sights: Augustine, Secular Spectatorship, and the Spectacula of the Church (1)

Below is a version of the paper I presented this year at the Augustine and Augustinianisms section of the American Academy of Religion. I welcome comments, questions, and critiques.



In 1757, French philosopher Jean le Rond d’Alembert published an encyclopedia article on the town of Geneva. There was nothing exceedingly offensive or controversial in this entry. However, one particular paragraph on Geneva’s lack of interest in the dramatic arts did catch the attention of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. In his well-known Letter to d’Alembert on the Spectacles, Rousseau engages in a sustained critique of the theater; arguing that to watch its performances is no morally neutral activity: he proclaims that,

the most advantageous impression of the best tragedies is to reduce all the duties of man to some passing and sterile emotions that have no consequences, to make us applaud our courage in praising that of others, our humanity in pitying the ills that we could have cured, our charity in saying to the poor, God will help you! (269)

Over a thousand years prior to Rousseau’s Letter, Saint Augustine addressed this very issue in a variety of forms. And, like Rousseau, the practice not only troubled Augustine with regards to its effect on individuals but also in its effects on society as a whole.

It is not as though Augustine was the first Patristic author to confront the topic of the spectacles. Tertullian, the strict moralist that he was, had already written a treatise of blanket condemnation on the practice as well as those who participated. As we know, Augustine’s social climate was different than that of Tertullian. With this in mind, one of the broader assertions of this paper is that the question of whether or not a Christian should participate in the spectacles serves as a test case for examining the ambiguous relationship between church and society post-Constantine.

What follows can therefore be broken into three distinct sections. First, we will examine the significant contribution of Robert Markus to studies on the relationship of sacred, secular and profane within ancient Christianity in general, and with regards to the spectacles specifically. Here, we will also explore the criteria for judging social institutions and practices which Augustine provides in De Doctrina Christiana. Second, we will turn to the Confessions not only for it’s vivid descriptions of how the spectacles negatively affect the Christian spiritual life, but also because it is there that Augustine begins to construct a theology of Christian community which provides an alternative to the spectacles of culture. And third, we will end with a close reading of Augustine’s Exposition of Psalm 39 where we find (perhaps) the Bishop’s most
pronounced commentary on the spectacles and the appropriate Christian response to them.

It is hoped that through these three examinations we will begin to see the ways in which Augustine viewed a pluralistic society, the church’s role within it, and the precarious life of the Christian caught in the ambiguous space between the two. We turn first to Markus.

I

In De Doctrina Christiana, Augustine maps out activities which he deems superstitious and deleterious to spiritual growth – such as astrology. Afterwards, he turns his attention to those institutions and practices which are neither superstitious nor explicitly beneficial to the up-building of Christian virtue. The Bishop explain

Having pruned and uprooted these things from the Christian mind we must in turn consider those human institutions which are not superstitious, that is, ones established not with demons but with men. All things which are meaningful to humans just because humans have decided that they should be so are human institutions. Some of them are superfluous and self-indulgent, others are useful and necessary. If the signs made by actors while dancing were naturally meaningful, rather than meaningful as a result of human institution and agreement, an announcer would not have indicated to the Carthaginians, as each actor danced, what the dance meant, as he did in earlier days…for even now if a person unfamiliar with these frivolities goes to the theater his rapt attention to them is pointless unless someone tells him what the movements mean. (DDC, 53)

De Doctrina represents a kind of taxonomy for various practices within Roman culture: and his classification of what we might call “profane” is rather specific [i.e. those being the things that have been ‘pruned’]. The rest, including the spectacles, seem to fall outside this category.

Robert Markus has described this ambiguous middle ground as the “wide no-man’s land between explicit pagan worship and uncompromising Christian rejection of all its trappings and associations.” The “porous boundary” between the sacred and secular – or, what Karl Barth once referred to as the “fluid frontier” – is the territory of a religiously diverse society’s shared culture. As Markus explains, this middle ground remained an important and yet troubling subject for Augustine:

We must, I think, concede that opposed tendencies in Augustine’s thought were in tension, if not in conflict here. On the one hand, he assigned great importance to a shared culture and shared values. On the other, his belief that sin has radically fragmented social life would incline him to be suspicious of claims on behalf of the political community’s capacity to promote the moral life. (C & S, 61)

In De Doctrina Christiana we have an enigmatic test-case for understanding Augustine’s evaluation of the shared practices and customs within a society; in that he neither condemns nor endorses specific traditions; he merely describes them (i.e. as superfluous, useful, or self-indulgent) and hints to the fact that such things might be utilized for good under the right motives and circumstances.

On this, Markus incisively notes,

To be sure, he placed them [the Theater and its audience] among the useless and extravagant, not the useful and necessary. But in this key passage [Augustine’s] silence about the circus and the hippodrome and the spectacles in general is notable. Did he perhaps want to allow himself elbow-room to think, or to allow his readers to think, that such celebrations and amusements are, unlike those of the theater, even ‘useful and necessary’? There may be a premonition here that these things are capable of helping to bring about that cohesion of human wills on which social harmony rests, whose fostering he commends in the very next paragraph and – with vastly greater urgency – in the City of God. (EOAC, 123)

In describing the cohesion of human wills, Markus means those habits of thought or traditiosn which – when shared by a diverse society – produce greater civic harmony. It is Markus’s suggestion that, even as Augustine aged and came to view the spectacles in a much harsher light, he never forfeited the assumption that a just and thriving society required shared traditions to maintain a cohesive identity, and ultimately its peace.

Markus concludes that a “noticeable hardening” of Augustine’s attitude towards the spectacles took place in 399 and that, nonetheless, the texts which follow that date still “often express the same milder views from the earlier period.” While Markus’s dating is a helpful starting point for evaluating Augustine’s comments on the spectacles, it is equally important to explore the ways in which the Bishop’s perceived audience influenced also influenced his approach.

I am contending that De Doctrina represents Augustine’s “first-steps” towards determining the appropriate place for a given activity within the economy of ecclesial praxis. In turning our attention to two of his more pastoral and spiritual works, I will next argue that Augustine’s opinion of - and reaction to - the shows and games is placed in more robust terms within his theology of the Christian life. We will look first at the Confessions.

What Jesus would have wanted...

...a gang-like brawl between Greek Orthodox and Armenian Monks inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

And they will know us by our love...

Updates...

Apologies for the lack of posting as of late...

I was at the AAR until Tuesday and am now back to preparing applications for PhD programs (round 2!). Feel free to light a candle, say a few hail-Marys, and prostrate yourself before your god of choice on my behalf.

I will post my AAR paper over the next couple of days but will probably not be doing any significant blogging until the new year....

All the best to you and yours.

An Attack ad on Jesus...

...priceless.

On the Spectacle of Modern Society....

In preparation for my AAR paper on Augustine and "the spectacles", I have been reading some more modern conversations on the topic. Yesterday, I came across this timely passage from Guy Debord's unwavering condemnation of modern society's paralysis in his Society of the Spectacle:

The spectacle is the technological version of the exiling of human powers into a 'world beyond'; the culmination of humanity's internal separation...The spectacle is the bad dream of a modern society in chains and ultimately expresses nothing more than its wish for sleep. The spectacle is the guardian of that sleep...The Spectacle is the ruling order's non-stop discourse about itself, its never-ending monologue of self-praise, its self-portrait at the stage of totalitarian domination of all aspects of life. The fetishistic appearance of pure objectivity in spectacular relations conceals their true character as relations between people and between classes: a second Nature, with its own inescapable laws, seems to dominate our environment. But the spectacle is not the inevitable consequence of some supposedly natural technological development. On the contrary, the society of the spectacle is a form that chooses its own technological content. If the spectacle, considered in the limited sense of the 'mass media' that are its most glaring superficial manifestation, seems to be invading society in the form of a mere technical apparatus, it should be understood that this apparatus is in no way neutral and that it has been developed with the spectacle's internal dynamics. (12-13)

In my more cynical moments - particularly during this election season and all the banal accoutrements of the 24 hour media spectacle which seem to follow in its wake - I can't help but think that our democracy stands guilty as charged.

*****

A Covnersation on Metaphysics: To Speak or Not to Speak? [Part 8]

Below is the next correspondence between Will (a PhD student in Rhetoric) and myself on the role of metaphysics in the Christian life. If you are keeping up (preface, One, Two, Three, four, five, six, and seven), this is the eighth installment.

Feel free to join in.

John,

Now I get to apologize for being extremely late with my reply. Teaching 4 classes and doing everything else I’m doing has been keeping me busy. Still, no excuses. With that said, here are some thoughts about your response.

About your explanation of God that echoes Barth, that God is “perfect actuality,” I can see how this clarifies, if not productively complicates, critiques of metaphysics (like my own) that it is too concerned with unchanging structures. Still there is something there in Barthes take (via your brief explanation) that I can’t get around, and that is that God is somehow separated from us (or rather we from God) by our “potentiality and actuality, imperfection and perfection” – or what Neihbur would simply call sin?; not to mention that God is somehow “perfect” (infinitely good?). There is too much ontological speculation here. But perhaps this is also a good point to bring up how I dislike metaphysics because it’s too concerned with ontology (in my view). To craft a statement that sounds like something Hauerwas would write:

I don’t do ontology.

My intellectual development these past few years (this sounds so snobby but I don’t know how else to put it) has led me to completely abandon any concern for ontological speculation. Instead I embrace epistemology. How we know what we know. That seems to be not only a better question but one that we can actually begin to answer. I don’t want to further bifurcate epistemology from ontology, but I don’t really believe in ontology to begin with so I don’t have any problem completely divorcing it from epistemology. That is, I don’t think ontological inquiry can lead us to a place that isn’t covered in the vines of speculative metaphysics. Thus I have to disagree when you say:

“Perhaps it your distinction between metaphysics (as such) and metaphysical inquiry/discourse is a helpful one....you likened it to the distinction between language and discourse. My (current) assumption is that, despite this distinction, neither term can function fully without the other. Discourse cannot function without a language...granted, discourse can be improved and nourished by a greater understanding of a multitude of languages by both parties (hence my affinity for using latin phrases).”

I love the use of Latin as well—because with you I agree it can nourish our knowledge (and it’s just cool, but we’re geeks), but I don’t see a necessary distinction between language and discourse because as I’ve said before (echoing Stephen Yarborugh and Donald Davidson) – language doesn’t exist. The belief that language exists certainly exists, but language itself doesn’t exist—as in there being linguistic structures from which we pluck words and meanings out of the ether. The only thing that exists is the utterance. Thus the closest thing in actuality we can say “exists” is discourse—the interaction between symbol makers using gestures. Thus to say that discourse cannot function with language is like saying epistemology can’t function without ontology. That is, it’s like saying we cannot know that a tree is a tree unless the tree itself is fundamentally a tree. But how do we know if a tree is fundamentally a tree? Is there an essential “treeness” that exists outside our knowledge of trees to which we can compare our knowledge of a ceratin tree? Do you see the utter pointless of such questioning? The only thing we can do is think about why we think a tree is a tree and from there compare the different meanings of “tree” that people hold. Moreover all we have to work with here are our gestures (words) about trees. Hence the important relationship between discourse and epistemology. Now perhaps, and I’m assuming, we differ here in our belief about whether ontology (and metaphysics as such) is necessary for epistemology (and metaphysical inquiry/discourse). I believe that our beliefs are very real things, so when people do metaphysical inquiry they are engaging ideas and questions that (if not recognized as a form of discourse and a kind of seeking out how we know what we know) might lead simply to the nebulous realm of metaphysics and ontology from which all stymied and violent debate/conflict originates.

For example, if a man honestly believes that women are fundamentally deficient compared to men, he will have to undergo a radical ethical shift in his thinking for him to change his mind. But he can change his mind. This is what matters. Our beliefs can be changed. Abandoned. Evolved. Augmented. This points to the dynamic function of knowledge, not the dynamic function of ontology. If the man doesn’t want to change the belief (or isn’t put in a place where his belief has to be changed) then he will do everything he can to hold on to it. Substitute here debates about race, politics, religion…and we have the origins of most of world’s bloodiest wars and genocides.

So when I said above that I don’t do ontology, I wasn’t simply being snoody or terse for the sake of snobbery or brevity. I say that because we can’t get underneath our beliefs. Our beliefs are all we got’. I love in The Wire when the gangsters talk about killing someone and they say “he’s got to get got”—even though this probably isn’t deliberate they are referring to the action of death instead of the state of it. They are saying a certain person has to be made dead. I’m not sure what point I’m trying to make here…but I have The Wire in my head. I love that show.

Anyway…

I completely agree with you when you write:

“I agree wholeheartedly with this, although I think that you and I probably have different understandings of what it means...For me, the grammar, narratives, and lexicon of the Canon are so generous, broad, and multivalent that I do not view them as confining or restricting. I do not view a "closed Canon" as something which limits or stifles our conversation...much less cause them to atrophy. Just take the dissonance between Proverbs and Ecclesiastes as a prime example. Both are considered part of the "Wisdom Literature" of the Bible. But their wisdom often leads in divergent directions. However, the space covered between the two texts is generous enough to encompass a broad swath of our experiences regarding humanity and the Divine.”

Here is a good point where your understanding of what scripture and doctrine do is helpful for me because it pushes me to consider how often I’m tempted to relegate doctrines as closed systems of beliefs that can’t operate generously. And your example about Proverbs and Ecclesiastes is right on point with what you’re saying. All this is to say that I recognize how much you value the historical traditions, and you have been/are showing me how you value them because of their generative possibilities for the present. It seems to me that you see in the historical traditions something much like seeds to be watered. I can certainly get behind this. Quite frankly this is a pragmatic take on history—my only point is that we have to keep paying attention to the consequences of our inquiring. But again, you have been doing this all along.

I know I am only furthering this conversation about metaphysics in ways that might seem redundant at points, but I do think we are making headway, if not in the way we are crafting some shared knowledge here, but also in our progression of understanding each other’s beliefs.

The puppet master conversation might be an interesting direction to turn to. That is, it might be good to start thinking about some texts (doctrines, metaphysical premises) on the table for us to engage.

*****