The Unexpected Stain of Grace

Yesterday I attended the memorial service for Arthur Foye, the father of an old friend.

Well, more than an old friend really. An old girlfriend. My first kiss, in fact.

If my calculations are correct, her father was a minister of the gospel for something like 52 years. I came to know him when I was a 17 year old half man / half punk. I remember being embraced by the family, and I remember their house as a place of love and joy and acceptance. This is, of course, in complete accord with everything that was said about Art during the service yesterday.

I would estimate that there were at least 300 people in attendance, in spite of bad weather that has plagued the state over the past week. The spirit of the gathering was not downcast or melancholy. We certainly mourned his passing, and many will miss him greatly, and yet the pervasive mood was one of joy and hope, with a generous portion of humor.

I have been thinking throughout the past week of his personal impact on me. It is a curious thing to think about now, some 30 years later, because I am certain that I was not much more than a blip in his life, some skinny kid who hung around his daughter for a year or so. We did not have many actual one to one conversations between us. I was much more likely to sit down and chat with Joan, his lovely bride. We certainly had no deep conversations about Jesus, or theology, or scripture, or anything like that (that I can recall), which even then was bread and butter to me, as it was to him.

Yet I remember meeting them for the first time as I arrived to pick up his daughter to go to a movie. I was anxious to make a good impression and communicate that I intended to take very good care of their girl. I recall an amused look on his face. Possibly even approving, but as a young man in that situation, I may simply have been hoping for the best.

As time went on, I have memories of celebrating New Year’s eve with the Foye’s, and of their inviting my Mom to join us. This began a friendship between them, which lasted until my Mom died last year. I am so grateful to Art and Joan for their kindness and support to my Mom as she went through much trouble over the last few decades of her life.

I remember eating with them, as he would preside at table – that long, long table in their New England country kitchen. Food was plentiful (important to a teenage boy) and good, conversation bright and studded liberally with laughter. They welcomed me into their family with ease and grace and I always felt welcomed there, even after I was no longer dating their daughter.

I remember visiting the summer Church camp where Art was Director for many years, soaking in the sense of fun and joy that he brought to what I know now is often a pretty tough job.

I remember watching as they cared for, suffered with, and struggle over their children. I remember being struck forcefully by their example of open and total love in all circumstances.

And then through the years following, as I had occasion to visit, we would chat amiably and he would be off to some meeting or another while I would stay for another piece of coffee cake, just thankful for the chance to hang out in their kitchen. If spirit can affect things, then that table must be saturated with love and hospitality.

Looking at all this on the whole, I find myself a little bit surprised how much influence Art and Joan and their home and their family have had on my life. My association has been long but really on the fringes of their lives. Nevertheless, the experience of having been with them, the memory of that time, the knowledge of who they are and that they are there has never left my mind or my heart. Truthfully, I really cannot say that I knew him well. Yet by building a house inhabited by gospel values, and by letting me into that house, even for a brief time, Art and Joan have had a profound impact on my thoughts, my choices and my life. Although it is difficult for me to account for the powerful effect of such brief acquaintance, I am joyfully grateful for it. I am a better man because of it.

It is rather as if grace had such a profound hold on their lives that it simply couldn't help but leak out all over those who came near them. Even now, I still bear the beautiful stains of that grace, and those lovely colors have not washed out. I can only imagine what brilliant colors his life must have lent to those he knew well, and who worked with him regularly.

May the love of God the Father, the peace of Christ, and the joy of the Holy Spirit continue to dwell richly within the memory of Art here on earth, as we await with joyful anticipation the reunion to come when the world is made anew.

Short Takes September 09

A few random quick observations:

Walking through Boston Commons yesterday and received an insight into why Hollywood movie productions cost in the millions. Several large party tents were set up for cast and crew to prep for scenes, and presumably for extras to hang out, etc. Each of these enormous white tents (the kind used for outdoor wedding receptions) was service by an enourmous portable air conditioning unit. Air conditioned tents. In Boston in September on a day that maybe topped out at 70 degrees. Not saying that's a bad thing, but..it may explain some things.

Reading a collection of Jack London's short stories. We've all read To Build a Fire -- it's in every high school American Lit anthology. I am struck by the muscularity of his prose. It is not spare and telegraphic like Hemingway's. It is extraordinarily rich, with almost painful attention to moment by moment detail. Highly descriptive, using the whole range of all the parts of speech. But it is not flowery or fluffy. It fairly pounds you over the head, but in the most fascinating and engaging way. Very american. He should get more attention than Hemingway. It's much better stuff. (with the possible exception of H's The Big Two Hearted River -- his only short that I really liked).

Took the kids up Mt. Major on Sunday. It's a nice 4 hour hike up and back if you take your time. About 1.5 miles up. About 3 miles going down the back way. Went up it barefoot. I tell you what, that gets people's attention. Some are impressed. Others decidedly not so much -- they seem to think it's a little loopy. It certainly changes one's gait and the way one walk. I spent much more attention and energy on where to place my feet. It was a good experiment which I will probably repeat. I need to toughen up my feet more, or get some moccasin-like shoes. I have my eyes on something call Vibram FiveFingers. Gotta save up my dough first.

My wife is involved in a "bible study" at the home school co-op with which we are involved. Something for the parents to do while the kids are in their classes. It's put out by Focus on the Family with backing of such luminaries as Os Guinness and RC Sproul. It is about TRUTH! I looked through the first chapter notes. I have no quarrel with it, but I mentioned that it really holds no interest for me for the simple reason that I have very little interest anymore in arguing with anyone. The conversation turned to time she recently spent with a neighbor who has led a tough life -- let's just say one that is fairly overflowing with humanity. As a result, her speech and conduct is broad and coarse. Even so we both know her and like her. As the Bride described their weekend to me and we talked we agreed that telling this woman where she was wrong would be useless at best, and more likely completely counterproductive. What she needs is not truth, but love. It is conceivable that love and grace would open the door to truth, but that love and grace would have to come first. Yeah. I'm pretty much done arguing with people.

Some other books I'm reading or have read recently:

Evangelical is not Enough by Thomas Howard

Tehanu by Ursula LeGuin

Small Strong Congregations by Kennon Callahan

The Shack by William Young

Band of Brothers by Stephen Ambrose

Right Freely

Fascinating quote from Martin Luther that was recently posted on internetmonk:

“Whenever the devil harasses you, seek the company of men or drink more, or joke and talk nonsense, or do some other merry thing. Sometimes we must drink more, sport, recreate ourselves, and even sin a little to spite the devil, so that we leave him no place for troubling our consciences with trifles. We are conquered if we try too conscientiously not to sin at all. So when the devil says to you: do not drink, answer him: I will drink, and right freely, just because you tell me not to.” 

Now I'm pretty sure that will twist the knickers of more than a few folks, and tickle a few others. Whichever camp you fall in, just meditate on that for a minute. There is much worth considering.

Worth reading Michael Spencer's explication and the comments of his readers. I especially like the story of the orthodox priest and the catechumen.

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 )