The Ultimate Materialist

There is a habit that plagues many so-called spiritual minds: they imagine that matter and spirit are somehow at odds with each other and that the right course for human life is to escape from the world of matter into some finer and purer (and undoubtedly duller) realm. To me, that is a crashing mistake -- and it is, above all, a theological mistake. Because, in fact, it was God who invented dirt, onions, and turnip greens; God who invented human beings, and their strange compulsion to cook their food; God who, at the end of each day of creation, pronounced a resounding "Good!" over his own concoctions. And it is God's unrelenting love of all the stuff of this world that keeps it in being at every moment. So, if we are fascinated, even intoxicated, by matter, it is no surprise: we are made in the image of the Ultimate Materialist. 

From the "Preface to the Second and Third Edition" of The Supper of the Lamb by Robert Farrar Capon.

Seeds of the 4th Revolution

It’s about time I came out about Robert Farrar Capon.

I am now reading my 6^th book written by the skinny priest. It has given me enough of a taste of him to make some reasonably grounded observations about his thought and style. He first came to my attention when my good buddy Ron Jung sent me a copy of Capon’s book “An Offering of Uncles”. At first the odd title set me off, and the first chapter seemed a little wooly, but I stuck with it, mostly out of some strange fascination. Reading that book seemed rather disconcertingly like taking communion and ducking into the tent to see JoJo the dogfaced boy at the same time. That may seem like an odd simile, but Capon’s writing style has a taste of the roller coaster about it. In one paragraph he will both delving into deep spiritual truth, and send linguistic and metaphoric fireworks into the sky over your head. As with a good meal, the crunchy, the smooth, the savory, the sweet, the cold, the hot, the bitter, the dry and the wet are presented in quick succession (or even on the same plate) so that one course may offset and highlight the qualities of the next. Much of his writing is creamy and heavy and full of the most delicious fat. Other sections are remarkably clear and light. The sudden switch-ups, and the rather transparent devices he employs to make his points might put some off, but I have enjoyed them. He definitely keeps the reader hopping and skipping to keep up, but with such a firmly grounded sense of playfulness that it is hard not to join in the play with a gladhearted smile. This, even as he turns your sense of what you thought you understood on it’s ear.

In that sense, the writing style very much reflects his subject matter, which falls along two basic lines. Capon writes to illustrate and illumine the sacramental view of life, and to proclaim and explain the radical and outrageous grace that is central to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

What does this mean, the sacramental view of life? We might better call it living in a sacramental manner. What is a sacrament? Let’s go with the definition given in the Common Book of Prayer. It is a visible outward sign of an inward and invisible grace. To take it a step further, a sacrament is present where an object or action becomes a physical and material manifestation of the presence and work of God. It might be thought of as a symbol that carries the power of the higher reality it represents. The most common sacraments in the Christian religion are baptism (a sacrament of membership in Christ’s Body) and the Eucharist (a sacrament of Christ’s presence and forgiveness).

As I have read more of Capon’s work, however, I have begun to see that God the Father has built sacrament into the warp and weft of his creation. This hinges on the idea that none of this was necessary – the entire created order did not HAVE to exist, but rather is an expression of the delight and playfulness of YHWH. Properly understood then, we see that our use of creation, is ultimately our offering up of our own creation back to God. We have the power to make everything a sacrament – driving a car, enjoying a meal, walking the dog, or making love. God made it to enjoy it, and so that we might enjoy it. When we do enjoy it, we offer it back to him.

No matter that many (most?…all?) of our offerings are defective, often in the extreme. That’s what Grace is for.

The most startling assertion Capon makes about sacramentalism is when he states that the crucifixion of Jesus, and his resurrection is the sacrament of the forgiveness of God that was built into the universe from before the beginning of time. While Capon starts with what might be called Total Depravity, from there he moves in a very different direction than my typical understanding. In my days as a Calvinist dabbler, I saw God’s salvation in Christ as actually accruing only to a few. Capon holds rather than Grace is not the end game, but is rather the starting point. That while everyone starts out dead in sin, everyone also starts out forgiven. Everyone – yes EVERYONE --  is invited to the party. He does not deny the scripture that clearly indicates that some people will apparently be such party poopers that they refuse to join in. In other words, the Bible makes it clear that there is a Hell and it is not a desirable state. Yet, Hell is not the starting point.

I won’t go into his arguments in detail here. I will just say that they seem to me to be based on scripture, and to have at least as much validity as other viewpoints. If you are looking, however, for a classical prepositional exposition with proof texts, you may be disappointed. Capon tends to do his theology with pictures. Not with crayons scrawled in the margins, but with words images and stories. He is, in this, purposely consonant with the methodology of Jesus himself, who taught mainly through stories and images. Capon references the parables often, and in fact, I hope to read his commentaries on the parables of Jesus next.

Well…this probably raised many more questions that it answered. If you want answers, you will likely have to go to Capon’s writing yourself. I don’t feel qualified, nor do I really desire to defend Capon as such. I would love to discuss him, because I am still exploring the meaning of what he is saying. I just don’t care to have to absorb arrows aimed at him just yet.

Suffice it to say, however, that reading his work as dramatically reshaped my spiritual landscape. Early in my writings on this blog, I complained about how Buddhism seemed to have a corner on the practice of contentment, of learning to deal with the vicissitudes of real life. I have had very little experience of knowledge of how to explain or handle suffering and worry and stress through Christian models of thought and practice, beyond being urged to pray more.

I suspect that God heard my complaint, and sent me a book by Robert Farrar Capon to provide me with some guidance and answers. A new and broader view of Grace, and a deeper and more powerful way of seeing God’s work in me through His creation has begun to unfold a new depth in my heart. I can point to 3 other times in my life where I experienced a spiritual revolution. This seems to be the fourth, and Capon has been the catalyst.

Sola Gratia

I recently finished reading Between Noon and Three: Law, Romance and the Outrage of Grace by Robert Farrar Capon. The book has set me spinning, but unfortunately, since I had to return it to the library, I no longer have it with me. So I’m going to wing it.

The central touchstone is indeed the outrage of grace. Capon attempts to lead us to a visceral confrontation with this outrage by engaging in a parable of a couple caught up in an extramarital affair. He does this knowing full well that it will offend our sense of rightness and justice unless the narrative somehow punishes the two parties for their waywardness. You know, someone dies as a result, or catches a disease, or one partner finds out and slays them both, or whatever scenario could invent that would balance the moral scales. He does this simply because that he knows the we all love to be moral accountants, tallying up the sin beans, so we can balance the books in the end.

Then he goes a step further. In the parable, the man (whose name is Paul) realizes that philandering is simply part of who he is. It is an ingrained mental and emotional habit. He is, in fact, tired of it. He would like to stop. He has come to despise himself for the deceit, and ultimately for the lack that such behaviour creates in his life. He wants to stop, and he would like to convince himself that he could, but realizes that in fact he is virtually powerless to do so. The taste of the moment is too sweet, even though he knows full well the bitterness that engulfs it. He is, to his own mind, dead. He can no more stop philandering than a dead man can stop being dead.

Outrageous indeed. But wait. There is more.

What if the woman (whose name is Laura) knows all this about him. What if, knowing that he will cheat on her also, she simply accepts this, and loves him completely and without reservation. What if this acceptance, this loving is no mere acquiescence of a woman who is really a doormat, but an active engaged choice by one who, in so doing could redeem Paul and all his cheating philandering deadness, and accept him as a real lover. What if, because of this, no matter what he did in the past, or does in the future, they remain complete in their happiness because she wills it so, and allows it to be so.

Do you see where this is headed? No? OK, look at it this way. Paul is us. Laura is Jesus. Now do you see it? It’s a parable. Compare it now to the parable we commonly call The Prodigal Son.

Now THAT’S outrageous.

The rest of Capons book, about two thirds of it, is dedicated to answering all the questions that this scenario raises. As our internal moral theologians scream for some sort of justice, Capon repeatedly returns to one word: Grace.

He is not squishy about it. He fully recognizes and embraces the outrage of it all. He makes what I feel to be a reasonably solid case from scripture. He actually answers many questions that have been rising up in my heart for a few years. And do not mistake this for some sort of pan-universalist soteriology. He grapples with the hard issues. What about hell? What about damnation? What about Romans 6? It’s all included.

We want to rage about cheap grace. The challenge is that for us, the recipients it is cheap. It was expensive for the One Who Gives Grace, but He has done ALL the work. Indeed, He has only ever been the only one who could do any of the work. Ultimately, nothing we could do, good or bad, affects God’s will to redeem us. Dead people can do nothing to change their deadness. Even if we could do something, it would not change our deadness. But as when Jesus called the quite dead Lazarus out of the tomb, like Lazarus we can do nothing except rise and come forth as commanded. We are raised from the dead, in Christ, because God has willed it so.

The outrage comes because we have allowed or inner Moral Theologian/Sin Bean Counter to dominate our conversation about what Jesus has really done. The discussion has too long been listing to the side of Grace Plus. Capon states very clearly that if he seems to be going too far to the Grace Alone side of things, then it is merely a long overdue counterbalance.

I won’t recapitulate the entire book here. I recommend reading it, and I would delight in discussing it. It may be joining my Most Influential List if it holds up after a few more readings and some lively discussion. I’m sure I raised more questions than I answered here. I am still wrestling with some of them myself. Expect more on this.

 

 

 

Knock it Off!!

I have been threatening for some time to read more Robert Farrar Capon. I have finished Bed and Board, his first book, and am now in the midst of Between Noon and Three: A Parable of Romance, Law, and the Outrage of Grace. I am not quite sure what to make of it. I love it, on one hand, and I fear it on the other. This is exactly the response that Capon expects, and exactly the response that most of the book dwells on for much of it's pages.

Essentially, Capon dares to take grace for exactly what it is, straight, no chaser - as you will read in the scond quote. It's bracing and it makes my head swim, and I fear that he is right. That may seem an odd thing to say. So what does that mean? More later, but now a tidbit.

"The gospel of grace is the end of religion, the final posting of the CLOSED sign on the sweatshop of the human race's perpetual struggle to think well of itself. For that, at bottom, is what religion is: man's well-meant but dim-witted attempt to approve of his unapprovable condition by doing odd jobs he thinks some important Something will thank him for. Religion, therefore, is a loser, a strictly fallen activity. It has a failed past and a bankrupt future. There was no religion in Eden and there won't be any in heaven; and in the meantime Jesus has died and risen to persuade us to knock it all off right now."

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The reformation was a time when men went blind, staggering drunk because they had discovered, in the dusty basement of late medievalism, a whole cellarful of fifteen-hundred-year-old, two hundred proof grace -- of bottle after bottle of pure distillate of Scripture, one sip of which would convince anyone that God saves us single-handedly. The word of the gospel -- after all those centuries of trying to lift yourself into heaven by worrying about the perfection of your bootstraps -- suddenly turned out to be a flat announcement that the saved were home before they started...Grace has to be drunk straight boys: no water, no ice, and certainly no ginger ale; neither goodness, nor badness, nor the flowers that bloom in the spring of super spirituality could be allowed to enter into the case.

(Between Noon and Three: A Parable of Romance, Law, and the Outrage of Grace )

Capon on Fathers and Mothers

The following are some excerpts from Bed and Board: Plain talk about Marriage, by Robert Farrar Capon (now out of print, but available used). I have become rather besotted by some of Capon’s writings lately. I was first introduced to him through An Offering of Uncles: On the Priesthood of Adam and the Shape of the World, which I am now reading slowly for the second time. I have wanted to comment on that book here, but have been unsure exactly where to begin. I’m hoping that in the second reading it will become clearer to me.

The first excerpt is about being a father. The second about being a mother. I found them at Femina, a blog by Nancy Wilson, the wife of Doug Wilson, author of several other books on my influential books list, and of the blog with one of the coolest titles ever -- Blog and Mablog. I found these quotes so affecting that I deemed them worth pulling over to share with you.

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Be their teacher. And expect a lot from them. Avoid, of course, the mistake of demanding they learn things you don’t give a hang about…But if you’re honestly wild about math or letters, music or shopwork, give them both barrels and make them sit still for it. They will gripe and you will get grouchy, but if you really love it, something will rub off that will stay with them like the smell of fresh bread. So don’t be afraid to demand your kind of stuff of them. They aren’t going to see that many people who care. It would be nice if their father could be one. It would be something to hold in their hands all their lives.

Be their Lover. Give yourself, your humor, your small talk, and the minor affections of your hands and eyes. Don’t keep it all in the solemn now-let’s-you-and-Daddy-talk -about-your-report-card vein. Give them the best of your offhand style. Let your sons grow up learning what a man who acts out his caring looks like. Let your daughters learn what it’s like to have a man around who works at quickening their response. It might just pay off in a decent son-in-law.

Be a just Judge. Children can stand vast amounts of sternness. They rather expect to be wrong; and they are quite used to being punished. It is injustice, inequity and inconsistency that kill them. Fathers, provoke not your children to wrath, lest they be disheartened. It is precisely the sight of injustice that triggers anger, and it is precisely the helpless rage of inferiors that takes the heart out of them and produces most of the cynics, skeptics and smart alecks in the world. You are first of all the Guardians of the Law. Develop a passion for fairness. If you overdo anything, make it that.

One more. Delight in them openly. Speak your praise of them. Be their Priest. Look at them with the widest eyes you can manage, and don’t be ashamed to be seen at wonder. You will not see their like again. What a shame if they should leave without ever knowing they have been beheld and offered up by an astonished heart.”

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“To be a Mother is to be the sacrament — the effective symbol — of place. Mothers do not make homes, they are our home: in the simple sense that we begin our days by a long sojourn within the body of a woman; in the extended sense that she remains our center of gravity through the years. She is the very diagram of belonging, the where in whose vicinity we are fed and watered, and have our wounds bound up and our noses wiped. She is geography incarnate, with her breasts and her womb, her relative immobility, and her hands reaching up to us the fruitfulness of the earth.

…The mother is the geographical center of her family, the body out of whom their diversity springs, the neighborhood in which that diversity begins ever so awkwardly to dance its way back to the true Body which is the Mother of us all. Her role then is precisely to be there for them. Not necessarily over there, but just there–thereness itself, if you will; not necessarily in her place but place itself to them; not necessarily at home but home itself.
..But remember, you are a landmark…You are and remain the bodily link with our origin. You are the oldest thing in the world; don’t be in a hurry to forget any of your history.

..You are not only a link with something. You are the thing itself; and you are the sacrament, the instrument, by which we learn to love the things that are. Your body is the first object any child of man ever wanted. Therefore dispose yourself to be loved, to be wanted, to be available. Be there for them with a vengeance. Be a gracious, bending woman. Incline your ear, your heart, your hands to them. Be found warm and comfortable, and disposed to affection. Be ready to be done by and to welcome their casual effusions with something better than preoccupation and indifference.

…Children love fat mothers. They like them because while any mother is a diagram of place, a picture of home, a fat one is a clearer diagram, a greater sacrament. She is more there. I can think of no better wish to all the slender swans of this present age than to propose them a toast: May your husbands find you as slim as they like; your children should always remember you were fat. “