The New York Times is, unsurprisingly, "surprised" that Benedict XVI's first encyclical (Deus caritas est) would be concerned with love. Their surprise is due to the fact that they'd bought the story of Ratzinger the Inquisitor rather than engaging the history of his work.
I've not yet had a chance to read the encyclical closely (assigning it in my "Urban Altruism" seminar this spring will provide an opportunity), but a quick skim indicates that what's really at stake here are questions about the relationship between church and "state," and just which entity is responsible for the formation of a "just" society. (That a discussion of love would entail a discussion of justice is the sort of link that liberalism couldn't think.) In this regard, Benedict follows a pretty straightforward line regarding subsidiarity--a line which, I think, could be justly questioned. Nevertheless, this is an important document that the entire global church--and even states--ought to engage. One could hope it will stimulate important conversations on these matters.
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Monday, January 23, 2006
Canadian Election Today
You wouldn't know it from most mainstream American media coverage (the BBC highlights it more), but today Canadians go to the polls in a federal parliamentary election. The Globe & Mail is projecting a minority government for the Conservative Party. The challenge for the conservatives is finding anyone to play coalition government with. This could be a very short-lived government.
It's at least interesting to note that as Latin American elections have quite steadily swung to the left, North American electorates are swinging to the right (though the "right" in Canada still makes American Democrats look like Thatcherites on some issues). However, there is an interesting subplot to this Canadian election, too, as the NDP seem to be gaining ground (as well as the Bloc Quebecois, which is also left-of-center). We'll see...
It's at least interesting to note that as Latin American elections have quite steadily swung to the left, North American electorates are swinging to the right (though the "right" in Canada still makes American Democrats look like Thatcherites on some issues). However, there is an interesting subplot to this Canadian election, too, as the NDP seem to be gaining ground (as well as the Bloc Quebecois, which is also left-of-center). We'll see...
Monday, January 16, 2006
Christian Scholars, Public Intellectuals, and the Challenges of Finitude
I’ve found myself bumping up against my finitude quite a lot in the past month, which has got me to thinking some about the unique challenges for Christian scholars who want to also try to play the role of public intellectuals. (Gideon Strauss’s recent Comment article on the New York intellectuals furthered my thinking on this score.)
Perhaps some prefatory words about “public intellectuals” are in order. By a “public intellectual,” I mean someone who brings critical, analytic, and synthetic theoretical skills to bear on issues of public concern—and then is able to articulate and express both a critique and vision in ways that are provocative, winsome, insightful, and—one hopes—persuasive. Many public intellectuals are credentialed scholars who feel impelled—as a matter of public trust—to take their skills and expertise outside the narrow (but legitimate) discussions of the academy. (A host of examples here, but a few that come to mind: Cornel West, Noam Chomsky, Richard Dawkins—not to mention a whole host of French thinkers from Sartre to Derrida to Luc Ferry.) But two provisos are in order here: First, not all scholars are, or are called to be, public intellectuals. And I don’t mean to suggest that scholars who stay within the confines of academic discourse are somehow failing in their vocation. The world of scholarly investigation and conversation is a legitimate end in itself and need not be justified only by “application” to public issues. That would be to fall into the worst sort of pragmatism. Second, not all public intellectuals are (or need be) credentialed scholars. Someone like Christopher Hitchens immediately comes to mind. A brilliant, critical mind emerging from Oxford, Hitchens does not have a PhD. But that hardly undercuts his ability to fulfill the role I’ve sketched above.
Now, with that in mind, I think there is a unique set of challenges for the Christian scholar who would seek to be a public intellectual. Let me enumerate just three as a start:
1. The Christian scholar who senses a vocation as a public intellectual immediately runs up against a challenge that I would think does not confront a “secular” public intellectual: guilt. Perhaps this is the result of my Calvinism working overtime, but I think it is a phenomenon that was glimpsed powerfully by Augustine in Book X of the Confessions. I need to ask myself just why I want to be a public intellectual. Is it just for the (relative) “fame?” Augustine’s reflection on this challenge is, for me, one of the most haunting passages of the Confessions. Extending his reflection on the temptations outlined in 1 John 2:16 (the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and worldly ambition), Augustine lands on the third as the one that continues to plague him most: “Surely the third kind of temptation has not ceased to trouble me, nor during the whole of this life can it cease. The temptation is to wish to be feared or loved by people for no reason other than the joy derived from such power.” (Conf. 10.36.59). In fact, upon becoming a bishop, the temptation only increased such that Augustine the bishop could confess: “This is [not “was”] the main cause why I fail to love you.” And I have to confess the same.
And so, unlike other public intellectuals who aren’t beset by this Augustinian self-suspicion, the Christian who would become a public intellectual and who is really honest with himself or herself must run up against this kind of lust for fame operative in one’s soul. That first whiff of public acclaim is an intoxicating drug. But Augustine also recognizes the complexity and messiness of all this, for he clearly counsels that the solution is not a withdrawal from acting for the public good. For indeed, even the one acting as a public intellectual (and surely a bishop was a public intellectual) with the purest of motives will nevertheless find himself the subject of praise and acclamation. Should Augustine abandon doing his public labors well just so that he’s not tempted by fame and the praise of men? By no means, he concludes. This would be akin to think the way to avoid gluttony is to avoid eating. Rather, the good work of a public intellectual should be accompanied by a rigorous self-examination—and real honesty about how easy it is to get hooked on the drug of “public interest.”
2. There is a second unique challenge for Christian public intellectuals, I think: a matter of time, and particularly finitude. Being a public intellectual requires an almost tiring attentiveness to “the signs of the times” and to what’s happening. A public intellectual is almost by nature a reactive beast, responding to the contingencies of always unfolding cultures. And to put the point bluntly: this just requires a lot of time. The day begins by scouring the dailies (The New York Times, and maybe the LA Times and Washington Post; perhaps The Guardian, The Globe & Mail, Le Monde and the BBC for international perspectives). On top of this is the responsibility of keeping up with the monthlies (The Atlantic, Harper’s, New York Review of Books, etc.) and quarterlies (Wilson Quarterly, New Left Review, New Criterion, etc.). Add to this the responsibility of actually reading books, both new non-fiction and fiction (and, in my case, trying to make up for the lack of a liberal arts education by working one’s way through the “classics”—I’m currently in a Proust phase).
And then there’s the challenge—in the midst of all this reading—of finding time to actually write. If one retains an academic post which requires straight-up “scholarly” publication, then writing in the mode of a public intellectual happens in the margins and off the side of one’s desk. And such writing, because of its occasional nature, must often be done quickly.
Now, that in itself is quite a full-plate for anyone (particularly since I haven’t even mentioned the other realities and obligations that are “givens”—especially family). But this is also where the unique challenge for a Christian public intellectual sets in, in at least a couple of ways.
First, when it comes to keeping abreast of what’s happening, the Christian public intellectual has another entire world to monitor and understand, which translates into another complete set of alternative readings responsibilities. So beyond keeping up with the readings noted above, the Christian public intellectual is also reading the Christian Century, Books & Culture, Christianity Today, First Things, Commonweal, etc. There is another world to keep up on—a sort of parallel universe about which someone like Christopher Hitchens doesn’t have to bother. (Though, one could admit that we live in strange times, when the worlds of Vanity Fair and Jerry Falwell have come to overlap!) All of this reading takes time, which is dispensed in only finite allotments.
Second, the Christian public intellectual has another set of commitments that fills up the slate of time. In particular, I’m thinking of the very banal reality that, for the Christian public intellectual, Sunday mornings are pretty much shot (not, of course, on an eternal register, but you get the idea). I confess to having a certain envy for my secular friends who enjoy leisurely Sunday mornings on the upper westside, slowly ambling through the Sunday Times, maybe catching up on a Harper’s article, or curling up with a Wilde play or Rushdie’s latest novel. Sunday mornings, of course, are just the tip of the iceberg, since many of those who sense a burden and vocation as Christian public intellectuals also have a sense of service to the church, and thus are often involved in time intensive labors related to the ministry of the church. (Granted, this isn’t true for all; in fact some “Christian” intellectuals solve this problem by abandoning the church!)
3. Finally, I think the Christian public intellectual is burdened by a multiplication of publics. The “public” for the ‘secular’ public intellectual is relatively defined, though there might be varying levels (from smaller ‘highbrow’ publics to broader ‘middle-brow’ publics). The “public” here just represents those readers of the canonical periodicals and monthlies. But here again, the work of the Christian public intellectual is doubled, since the church represents its own public, with its own institutions (e.g., its own canonical periodicals and monthlies, etc). And this public is much more variegated and diverse, particularly with respect to education levels, political orientations, and general configuration of “what matters.” So the Christian public intellectual needs to have the flexibility of a gymnast and the agility of an acrobat—as well as the stamina of Hidalgo just to keep up the work!
I don’t mean this piece to sound like whining (no doubt it does). Rather, I mean only to say that I have the utmost respect for the labors of our public intellectuals, and that respect is doubled for Christian public intellectuals (Cornel West, George Weigel, etc.) who are able to manage all of these challenges without sacrificing what really matters.
Perhaps some prefatory words about “public intellectuals” are in order. By a “public intellectual,” I mean someone who brings critical, analytic, and synthetic theoretical skills to bear on issues of public concern—and then is able to articulate and express both a critique and vision in ways that are provocative, winsome, insightful, and—one hopes—persuasive. Many public intellectuals are credentialed scholars who feel impelled—as a matter of public trust—to take their skills and expertise outside the narrow (but legitimate) discussions of the academy. (A host of examples here, but a few that come to mind: Cornel West, Noam Chomsky, Richard Dawkins—not to mention a whole host of French thinkers from Sartre to Derrida to Luc Ferry.) But two provisos are in order here: First, not all scholars are, or are called to be, public intellectuals. And I don’t mean to suggest that scholars who stay within the confines of academic discourse are somehow failing in their vocation. The world of scholarly investigation and conversation is a legitimate end in itself and need not be justified only by “application” to public issues. That would be to fall into the worst sort of pragmatism. Second, not all public intellectuals are (or need be) credentialed scholars. Someone like Christopher Hitchens immediately comes to mind. A brilliant, critical mind emerging from Oxford, Hitchens does not have a PhD. But that hardly undercuts his ability to fulfill the role I’ve sketched above.
Now, with that in mind, I think there is a unique set of challenges for the Christian scholar who would seek to be a public intellectual. Let me enumerate just three as a start:
1. The Christian scholar who senses a vocation as a public intellectual immediately runs up against a challenge that I would think does not confront a “secular” public intellectual: guilt. Perhaps this is the result of my Calvinism working overtime, but I think it is a phenomenon that was glimpsed powerfully by Augustine in Book X of the Confessions. I need to ask myself just why I want to be a public intellectual. Is it just for the (relative) “fame?” Augustine’s reflection on this challenge is, for me, one of the most haunting passages of the Confessions. Extending his reflection on the temptations outlined in 1 John 2:16 (the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and worldly ambition), Augustine lands on the third as the one that continues to plague him most: “Surely the third kind of temptation has not ceased to trouble me, nor during the whole of this life can it cease. The temptation is to wish to be feared or loved by people for no reason other than the joy derived from such power.” (Conf. 10.36.59). In fact, upon becoming a bishop, the temptation only increased such that Augustine the bishop could confess: “This is [not “was”] the main cause why I fail to love you.” And I have to confess the same.
And so, unlike other public intellectuals who aren’t beset by this Augustinian self-suspicion, the Christian who would become a public intellectual and who is really honest with himself or herself must run up against this kind of lust for fame operative in one’s soul. That first whiff of public acclaim is an intoxicating drug. But Augustine also recognizes the complexity and messiness of all this, for he clearly counsels that the solution is not a withdrawal from acting for the public good. For indeed, even the one acting as a public intellectual (and surely a bishop was a public intellectual) with the purest of motives will nevertheless find himself the subject of praise and acclamation. Should Augustine abandon doing his public labors well just so that he’s not tempted by fame and the praise of men? By no means, he concludes. This would be akin to think the way to avoid gluttony is to avoid eating. Rather, the good work of a public intellectual should be accompanied by a rigorous self-examination—and real honesty about how easy it is to get hooked on the drug of “public interest.”
2. There is a second unique challenge for Christian public intellectuals, I think: a matter of time, and particularly finitude. Being a public intellectual requires an almost tiring attentiveness to “the signs of the times” and to what’s happening. A public intellectual is almost by nature a reactive beast, responding to the contingencies of always unfolding cultures. And to put the point bluntly: this just requires a lot of time. The day begins by scouring the dailies (The New York Times, and maybe the LA Times and Washington Post; perhaps The Guardian, The Globe & Mail, Le Monde and the BBC for international perspectives). On top of this is the responsibility of keeping up with the monthlies (The Atlantic, Harper’s, New York Review of Books, etc.) and quarterlies (Wilson Quarterly, New Left Review, New Criterion, etc.). Add to this the responsibility of actually reading books, both new non-fiction and fiction (and, in my case, trying to make up for the lack of a liberal arts education by working one’s way through the “classics”—I’m currently in a Proust phase).
And then there’s the challenge—in the midst of all this reading—of finding time to actually write. If one retains an academic post which requires straight-up “scholarly” publication, then writing in the mode of a public intellectual happens in the margins and off the side of one’s desk. And such writing, because of its occasional nature, must often be done quickly.
Now, that in itself is quite a full-plate for anyone (particularly since I haven’t even mentioned the other realities and obligations that are “givens”—especially family). But this is also where the unique challenge for a Christian public intellectual sets in, in at least a couple of ways.
First, when it comes to keeping abreast of what’s happening, the Christian public intellectual has another entire world to monitor and understand, which translates into another complete set of alternative readings responsibilities. So beyond keeping up with the readings noted above, the Christian public intellectual is also reading the Christian Century, Books & Culture, Christianity Today, First Things, Commonweal, etc. There is another world to keep up on—a sort of parallel universe about which someone like Christopher Hitchens doesn’t have to bother. (Though, one could admit that we live in strange times, when the worlds of Vanity Fair and Jerry Falwell have come to overlap!) All of this reading takes time, which is dispensed in only finite allotments.
Second, the Christian public intellectual has another set of commitments that fills up the slate of time. In particular, I’m thinking of the very banal reality that, for the Christian public intellectual, Sunday mornings are pretty much shot (not, of course, on an eternal register, but you get the idea). I confess to having a certain envy for my secular friends who enjoy leisurely Sunday mornings on the upper westside, slowly ambling through the Sunday Times, maybe catching up on a Harper’s article, or curling up with a Wilde play or Rushdie’s latest novel. Sunday mornings, of course, are just the tip of the iceberg, since many of those who sense a burden and vocation as Christian public intellectuals also have a sense of service to the church, and thus are often involved in time intensive labors related to the ministry of the church. (Granted, this isn’t true for all; in fact some “Christian” intellectuals solve this problem by abandoning the church!)
3. Finally, I think the Christian public intellectual is burdened by a multiplication of publics. The “public” for the ‘secular’ public intellectual is relatively defined, though there might be varying levels (from smaller ‘highbrow’ publics to broader ‘middle-brow’ publics). The “public” here just represents those readers of the canonical periodicals and monthlies. But here again, the work of the Christian public intellectual is doubled, since the church represents its own public, with its own institutions (e.g., its own canonical periodicals and monthlies, etc). And this public is much more variegated and diverse, particularly with respect to education levels, political orientations, and general configuration of “what matters.” So the Christian public intellectual needs to have the flexibility of a gymnast and the agility of an acrobat—as well as the stamina of Hidalgo just to keep up the work!
I don’t mean this piece to sound like whining (no doubt it does). Rather, I mean only to say that I have the utmost respect for the labors of our public intellectuals, and that respect is doubled for Christian public intellectuals (Cornel West, George Weigel, etc.) who are able to manage all of these challenges without sacrificing what really matters.
God-Branding?
In print I have been critical of Biola University--well, more specifically, their philosophy department. This little piece from the Chronicle of Higher Education only adds grist to my mill. In it, the college's "director of brand management" describes Biola's approach--what they call "God-branding." As far as I can tell, this is not a spoof.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Fictioning a Life: Proust and Frey
I've not read James Frey's Million Little Pieces but conversation around the controversy has raised some interesting questions about writing, intentions, expectations, and impact. As most will know, there have been some serious (and substantiated) allegations that Frey's "memoir" (as it is officially billed) includes a number of fairly significant embellishments. What's perhaps most intriguing is how many are coming to his defense: Oprah's response seems to be, "Listen, the book worked--it changed people, it made an impact. What does it matter whether the so-called memoir was fiction?" (Indeed, quotes from Frey seem to suggest that before its publication he wasn't sure whether to bill it as a novel or a memoir--a strange quandary I should think.) Now granted, with Derrida, I agree that meaning is not simply determined by authorial intent (though in a chapter in a forthcoming book I'll qualify that a bit). Nevertheless, I do think that the "impact" that a book makes is relative to the expectations brought to it by a community of readers--even if those expectations are themselves a matter of convention. So, for instance, when a book is 'labeled' (and marketed) as a memoir, this establishes a certain context, especially for those familiar with the conventions--viz., that a memoir is a literary life, a well-crafted but not invented narrative; a kind of testimony not unlike Augustine's Confessions (indeed Gary Wills is now at work translating Augustine's classic under the title of The Testimony). With this context determined by the conventions and the 'label,' readers bring a certain set of expectations, particularly about what is "possible." And in the case of a recovery-from-addiction narrative, it seems to me that the "impact" of the book is very much tied to the reading community's expectation that here is a narrative rooted in history, not invented and crafted for effect. To put this otherwise: if Frey's book were published as a novel, I can almost guarantee it would not have been as successful, and certainly would not have captured Oprah's attention.
In this light, my reading of Proust (and about Proust) of late sets up an interesting contrast with Frey. In Search of Lost Time is almost a memoir with all the names (and even genders) changed. But Proust never pretended or tried to pass it off as memoir; instead, it was determined to be "fiction," a novel--maybe even the novel to end the novel as we knew it. And precisely because of that, readers brought a very different set of expectations to the text. Learning that characters in the fiction have behind them amalgams of life-and-blood Parisians does not undo the magic of the fiction. But learning that Frey's supposedly factual characters and events have less "reality" behind them than Proust's invented world does undo the charm it possessed and deflates the hope it granted.
In this light, my reading of Proust (and about Proust) of late sets up an interesting contrast with Frey. In Search of Lost Time is almost a memoir with all the names (and even genders) changed. But Proust never pretended or tried to pass it off as memoir; instead, it was determined to be "fiction," a novel--maybe even the novel to end the novel as we knew it. And precisely because of that, readers brought a very different set of expectations to the text. Learning that characters in the fiction have behind them amalgams of life-and-blood Parisians does not undo the magic of the fiction. But learning that Frey's supposedly factual characters and events have less "reality" behind them than Proust's invented world does undo the charm it possessed and deflates the hope it granted.
Model Public Intellectuals
Gideon Strauss offers an illuminating and well-considered homage to the "New York Intellectuals" of the Partisan Review and Comment.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
On the Lighter Side
The original BBC series "The Office" made me a huge fan of Ricky Gervais. Granted, his comedy doesn't click for everyone. But for me he has the characteristics of a British Will Ferrell: he can make you laugh just sitting still, or by barely opening his mouth (and the accent only adds to the charm). So, when perusing The Guardian one day I was delightfully surprised to find the Guardian featured a weekly Ricky Gervais podcast (also searchable through the iTunes store). The first day I was in tears on public transit listening to the regular feature "Monkey News." Check it out.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Merry Christmas, Texaco!
After being encouraged that some moderate Republicans (including one of our West Michigan congressmen) successfully blocked the agenda of conservative Republicans to open up oil drilling in Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, the conservatives got what they want by employing a failsafe strategy: attach what you want to a Pentagon spending bill and spineless Democrats (and moderate Republicans) everywhere will cave. (After all, who wants to be seen as against the military?) Shameless, and disappointing. As one congressman put it:
"A can't-pass measure has been added to a must-pass measure in order for the Republicans to give an early huge Christmas gift to the oil companies of the United States," said Representative Edward J. Markey, Democrat of Massachusetts.Whatever happened to the days when such ludicrous defense spending was not a de facto "must pass" measure?
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Welcome Back, Mr. Hitchens?
It was wonderfully refreshing to actually see Christopher Hitchens offer a critique of the current administration, and in particular, the Defense Department's propaganda tactics in Iraq. Hitchens has been so busy defending the war in Iraq I was starting to think he was losing his contrarian edge. This piece in Slate is proof that some of the old Hitchens is still lurking inside his DC apartment. I suspect that the Orwellian in him just couldn't ignore the disturbing echoes of the "Ministry of Truth" in 1984.
[By the way, word on the (blog) street has it that Hitchens' next book will fill out his critique of religion. Warner Twelve will publish God is Not Great: The Case Against Religion. This should be the perfect foil for a book I've got in the works: On Religion: An Open Letter to Christopher Hitchens and Other Cultured Despisers.]
[By the way, word on the (blog) street has it that Hitchens' next book will fill out his critique of religion. Warner Twelve will publish God is Not Great: The Case Against Religion. This should be the perfect foil for a book I've got in the works: On Religion: An Open Letter to Christopher Hitchens and Other Cultured Despisers.]
Monday, December 05, 2005
Give a Water Buffalo for Christmas
What to get for that special someone who has everything? How about a water buffalo? Or ducks? Or a mosquito net? Or even a house? Last year while we were in England we bought some gifts for our family through Oxfam: a goat and some ducks as I recall. The "gifts" were then sent to those who really needed them in the developing world.
This year we're doing the same thing through the Christian Reformed World Relief Committee. The CRWRC has set up a great "gift shop" that allows you to purchase a whole range of things for specific justice missions around the world--including all the suggestions noted above, as well as literacy classes in Haiti, seeds & tools in Sudan, school lunches in Romania, and much more. When you purchase the gift (online), you'll receive a card that you can shared with your loved one. Our families loved it. Consider doing it this Christmas!
This year we're doing the same thing through the Christian Reformed World Relief Committee. The CRWRC has set up a great "gift shop" that allows you to purchase a whole range of things for specific justice missions around the world--including all the suggestions noted above, as well as literacy classes in Haiti, seeds & tools in Sudan, school lunches in Romania, and much more. When you purchase the gift (online), you'll receive a card that you can shared with your loved one. Our families loved it. Consider doing it this Christmas!
Un-Natural Law? Alito on Non-Resident Aliens
The Washington Post ran a fairly disturbing analysis of some of Alito's opinions written opinions while serving as a senior lawyer in the Reagan Justice Department. Of particular interest--to me--was his rendering regarding the constitutional rights that are afforded (or not!) to not just illegal immigrants but also non-resident aliens--of which I am one! (I'm a Canadian, for the record--which will explain quite a lot for some of my critics.) In a January 1986 memo to the FBI director Alito said that constitutional rules that applied to citizens (in particular, the prohibition of spreading 'stigmatizing' information about someone) did not apply to nonresident immigrants. He also cited a 1950 Supreme Court case "to support the contention that nonresident immigarnts of other countries had 'no due process rights' under the Constitution."
One could point out just a couple of serious concerns here: first, this is just the kind of aggressive limitation of legal protection that fuels the current administration's "exceptional" stance vis-a-vis the Geneva Convention and a host of other human rights expectations for non-American citizens in custody. Second, such a constructionist or conventional notion of rights would seem to contradict Alito's own natural law philosophy. I'm no fan of natural law theory, but at least it mitigates against this kind of commodified treatment of non-resident aliens.
One could point out just a couple of serious concerns here: first, this is just the kind of aggressive limitation of legal protection that fuels the current administration's "exceptional" stance vis-a-vis the Geneva Convention and a host of other human rights expectations for non-American citizens in custody. Second, such a constructionist or conventional notion of rights would seem to contradict Alito's own natural law philosophy. I'm no fan of natural law theory, but at least it mitigates against this kind of commodified treatment of non-resident aliens.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Political Time North of the Border
Today a no-confidence vote in the House of Commons dissolved the 38th Parliament in Canada. This will now kick off one of the longest election campaigns in the history of the country: 56 days. That doesn't leave much time for mudslinging, though we Canadians can be quite resourceful.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Canadian University Rankings
Many American's are familiar with the US News & World Report rankings of colleges and universities in the United States. Canada has a rough equivalent: the annual Maclean's ranking of Canadian universities.
(In Canada, "colleges" is a term used only to refer to community colleges and technical schools, which don't grant any kind of "degrees," not even an Associates. So in Canada, a high school senior going to the University of Toronto would say, "In the fall I'm going to university" [and yes, without the definitive article]. This always makes it a bit awkward when I'm back home and folks learn that I teach at Calvin College--which they tend to think of as some kind of community college.)
One significant difference is that the Maclean's ranking is pretty much comprehensive: except for a few small "private" universities (of which there are very few in Canada), this ranking evaluate every university in Canada under three categories: Medical Doctoral (universities with PhD programs, law schools, and med schools), Comprehensive (universities with doctoral programs but not med schools), and primarily undergraduate institutions.
This year McGill and the University of Toronto tied for top spot in what we might call "Canada's Ivy League" (we like to refer to Harvard as the McGill of the United States! ;-) Both are world-class institutions. In the comprehensive category, the University of Waterloo took top honors (I completed my undergraduate degree there). And in the primarily undergraduate category, it was mainly east coast or "Atlantic province" universities at the top, including St. Francis Xavier, Mount Allision (where I always dreamed of playing football when I grew up), and Acadia.
I sometimes find myself a bit homesick for the environs of Canadian universities, which I've always felt was quite different from the American scene (being in England last year reinforced some of that). The Maclean's ranking also includes some good articles exploring the unique challenges of Canadian higher education and research as it tries to resist the brain drain of American universities. Good reading.
(In Canada, "colleges" is a term used only to refer to community colleges and technical schools, which don't grant any kind of "degrees," not even an Associates. So in Canada, a high school senior going to the University of Toronto would say, "In the fall I'm going to university" [and yes, without the definitive article]. This always makes it a bit awkward when I'm back home and folks learn that I teach at Calvin College--which they tend to think of as some kind of community college.)
One significant difference is that the Maclean's ranking is pretty much comprehensive: except for a few small "private" universities (of which there are very few in Canada), this ranking evaluate every university in Canada under three categories: Medical Doctoral (universities with PhD programs, law schools, and med schools), Comprehensive (universities with doctoral programs but not med schools), and primarily undergraduate institutions.
This year McGill and the University of Toronto tied for top spot in what we might call "Canada's Ivy League" (we like to refer to Harvard as the McGill of the United States! ;-) Both are world-class institutions. In the comprehensive category, the University of Waterloo took top honors (I completed my undergraduate degree there). And in the primarily undergraduate category, it was mainly east coast or "Atlantic province" universities at the top, including St. Francis Xavier, Mount Allision (where I always dreamed of playing football when I grew up), and Acadia.
I sometimes find myself a bit homesick for the environs of Canadian universities, which I've always felt was quite different from the American scene (being in England last year reinforced some of that). The Maclean's ranking also includes some good articles exploring the unique challenges of Canadian higher education and research as it tries to resist the brain drain of American universities. Good reading.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Evangelicals Out of the Box: JKAS on NPR
This is probably shameless self-promotion that conflicts with good Calvinist humility, but Fors Clavigera readers might be interested in an upcoming NPR program. Krista Tippett's public radio program, "Speaking of Faith" will broadcast a show next week called "Evangelicals Out of the Box." It will feature conversatiosn with me and Fuller professor Nancey Murphy. The announcement of the program describes it this way:
Evangelicals Out of the Box
Stereotypes tell us this: Evangelical Christians are politically conservative, closed-minded, morally judgmental, and anti-science. We speak with Jamie Smith and Nancey Murphy, two creative members of a new generation of Evangelical thinkers and teachers, who defy stereotypes and reveal an evolving character for this vast movement that describes 40 percent of Americans.
The program will be released on October 21, and then air on stations throughout next weekend. But it will also be available on the web. For more info, visit the Speaking of Faith website. The site includes a listing of stations and broadcast times. Just FYI.
Friday, October 14, 2005
World's Top 100 Public Intellectuals
I have always found the notion of "public intellectual" interesting, but slippery--particularly given that there can be quite a plurality of publics. (The Church, as a public, might have a different set of public intellectuals than, say, the "public" as defined by the NYT. I've often thought that if a particular congregation represents a certain "public," then there should be a sense in which the pastor is its public intellectual. I think this has traditionally been the case in black churches, and was historically in Protestant churches.)
In any case, Prospect magazine, in conjunction with Foreign Policy, recently proposed The World's Top 100 Public Intellectuals. An interesting list to browse (keep in mind that one of the criteria was that the figures must still be alive). Several philosophers make the list (e.g., Dennett, Walzer, Rorty), a couple of theologians (Benedect XVI and Hans Kung), couple of cultural theorists (Negri, Zizek), and my favorite journalist, Christopher Hitchens.
One interesting lens through which to think about the list: I don't know if there is a single Protestant on the list. What about Rowan Williams? Or Cornel West?
In any case, Prospect magazine, in conjunction with Foreign Policy, recently proposed The World's Top 100 Public Intellectuals. An interesting list to browse (keep in mind that one of the criteria was that the figures must still be alive). Several philosophers make the list (e.g., Dennett, Walzer, Rorty), a couple of theologians (Benedect XVI and Hans Kung), couple of cultural theorists (Negri, Zizek), and my favorite journalist, Christopher Hitchens.
One interesting lens through which to think about the list: I don't know if there is a single Protestant on the list. What about Rowan Williams? Or Cornel West?
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Our History of Violence
I finally had the opportunity to see David Cronenberg's new film, A History of Violence, starring Viggo Mortensen (as Tom Stall), with an excellent performance by William Hurt (as Richie Cusak).
As you'd guess, the film very much interrogates violence on a number of different levels, with various kinds of "disturbance": from a sado-masochistic erotic scene to violence against children, coupled with key scenes involving bodily tissues and fluids. (Having been tipped off to the latter in A.O. Scott's NYT review, my wife passed and I went with my friend, Mark.)
Cronenberg is clearly out to de-aestheticize violence that is a staple of Hollywood, and increasingly, our cultural practices. There is a way that he is trying to wake up us up to what we might call, loosely paraphrasing Hannah Arendt, the "banality of violence."
But the final sequence of the film is highly ambiguous, and so one wonders what Cronenberg is after. Clearly, the closing scenes invite theological reflection. [Note: if you've not seen the film, and plan to, don't read any further.]
The closing sequence is launched by a Cain & Abel encounter between brothers Joey Cusak (Mortensen) and Richie Cusak--invoking the "first violence" of Genesis 4. As Richie peers up the barrel of Joey's pistol, he pleads, "Jesus, Joey..." Joey responds with a bullet to Richie's forehead, looks over his brother's body, and then mutters under his breath, almost shaking his head: "Jesus, Richie..."
We then cut to a scene of Joey at the lake behind Richie's mansion, peeling off his blood-stained clothes (casting off the "old man" as it were), and washing himself in the baptismal waters of the lake. He then makes the long trip back from Philadelphia to his (now disrupted) ho-hum farm house in rural Indiana. Walking into his house, his family (who all now know his history of violence), are quietly eating at the table. In silence, the youngest daughter prepares a place for him at the table, inviting him to join the meal. His son Jack, who was enraged by his father's history of violence, passes him the meatloaf as an extension of hospitality, and his wife, Edie, simply looks at him through tears...and the celluloid goes dark. The film seems to end with this eucharistic hospitality, where the history of violence is forgiven when Tom/Joey is welcomed to the table.
But I think that such a reading is taking Cronenberg's bait. In other words, I think that Cronenberg is playing with us here, inviting us to see redemption where there is none. The utter ambiguity of the final scenes--including remarkably ambiguous expressions on the face of Tom and Edie--invites quite a different reading, one that is much more cynical. On this reading, Cronenberg is slyly inviting us to see our implication in violence, our own history of violence. (The use of the sex in the film is clearly intended to suck us into being erotically charged by violence, which is exactly what Hollywood [and Fox News] lives off of.) So on this alternative, decidedly un-Christian and perhaps even "pagan" reading (thinking of Milbank's discussion of the pagan in Theology and Social Theory), the first violence of Cain & Abel is a necessary violence, replayed over and over again, without end and without escape from the cycle. Joey's washing in the lake is not a redemptive cleansing, but more a matter of "washing one's hands," the wistful illusion of being done with violence, when in fact it is violence which nourishes all our practices and privileges. And his silent welcome to the table at home is not a matter of eucharistic hospitality and forgiveness, but rather the silent complacency that wants to act "as if" we weren't implicated, "as if" the violence never happened, "as if" we can just get on with out lives and not talk about it. At the heart of this reading is a heightened sense of the banality of violence--that the pristine peace of every Mayberry is built upon a history of violence.
And I think it is precisely this second, alternative reading which would be the most "Christian." In other words, the real theological import of A History of Violence will be found in refusing the easy, almost trite, identification of Christian symbols and instead seeing in them a more sinister implication of us in our own histories of violence. In other words, I think Christians should read A History of Violence as a pagan comedy, not a Christian tragedy.
As you'd guess, the film very much interrogates violence on a number of different levels, with various kinds of "disturbance": from a sado-masochistic erotic scene to violence against children, coupled with key scenes involving bodily tissues and fluids. (Having been tipped off to the latter in A.O. Scott's NYT review, my wife passed and I went with my friend, Mark.)
Cronenberg is clearly out to de-aestheticize violence that is a staple of Hollywood, and increasingly, our cultural practices. There is a way that he is trying to wake up us up to what we might call, loosely paraphrasing Hannah Arendt, the "banality of violence."
But the final sequence of the film is highly ambiguous, and so one wonders what Cronenberg is after. Clearly, the closing scenes invite theological reflection. [Note: if you've not seen the film, and plan to, don't read any further.]
The closing sequence is launched by a Cain & Abel encounter between brothers Joey Cusak (Mortensen) and Richie Cusak--invoking the "first violence" of Genesis 4. As Richie peers up the barrel of Joey's pistol, he pleads, "Jesus, Joey..." Joey responds with a bullet to Richie's forehead, looks over his brother's body, and then mutters under his breath, almost shaking his head: "Jesus, Richie..."
We then cut to a scene of Joey at the lake behind Richie's mansion, peeling off his blood-stained clothes (casting off the "old man" as it were), and washing himself in the baptismal waters of the lake. He then makes the long trip back from Philadelphia to his (now disrupted) ho-hum farm house in rural Indiana. Walking into his house, his family (who all now know his history of violence), are quietly eating at the table. In silence, the youngest daughter prepares a place for him at the table, inviting him to join the meal. His son Jack, who was enraged by his father's history of violence, passes him the meatloaf as an extension of hospitality, and his wife, Edie, simply looks at him through tears...and the celluloid goes dark. The film seems to end with this eucharistic hospitality, where the history of violence is forgiven when Tom/Joey is welcomed to the table.
But I think that such a reading is taking Cronenberg's bait. In other words, I think that Cronenberg is playing with us here, inviting us to see redemption where there is none. The utter ambiguity of the final scenes--including remarkably ambiguous expressions on the face of Tom and Edie--invites quite a different reading, one that is much more cynical. On this reading, Cronenberg is slyly inviting us to see our implication in violence, our own history of violence. (The use of the sex in the film is clearly intended to suck us into being erotically charged by violence, which is exactly what Hollywood [and Fox News] lives off of.) So on this alternative, decidedly un-Christian and perhaps even "pagan" reading (thinking of Milbank's discussion of the pagan in Theology and Social Theory), the first violence of Cain & Abel is a necessary violence, replayed over and over again, without end and without escape from the cycle. Joey's washing in the lake is not a redemptive cleansing, but more a matter of "washing one's hands," the wistful illusion of being done with violence, when in fact it is violence which nourishes all our practices and privileges. And his silent welcome to the table at home is not a matter of eucharistic hospitality and forgiveness, but rather the silent complacency that wants to act "as if" we weren't implicated, "as if" the violence never happened, "as if" we can just get on with out lives and not talk about it. At the heart of this reading is a heightened sense of the banality of violence--that the pristine peace of every Mayberry is built upon a history of violence.
And I think it is precisely this second, alternative reading which would be the most "Christian." In other words, the real theological import of A History of Violence will be found in refusing the easy, almost trite, identification of Christian symbols and instead seeing in them a more sinister implication of us in our own histories of violence. In other words, I think Christians should read A History of Violence as a pagan comedy, not a Christian tragedy.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Orwell, Foucault, and the State of Urban Public Schools
Jonathan Kozol's recent Harper's essay, "Still Separate, Still Unequal: America's Educational Apartheid" is one of those pieces that makes you want to just crawl into a corner and sob--right after you find somebody to shout at because of the terrible pain in your gut.
Documenting years of visits and conversations with children, teachers, principals, and education bureaucrats at state and federal levels, Kozol paints the picture of a nation that is clearly going backwards. Fifty years after the supposed 'victory' of Brown v. Board of Education, Kozol shows that civil rights legislation hasn't erased racism, and that legislation for equality needs to be backed up by tax laws that could actually fund equality--but we all know that in that respect, America is headed down the wrong road. Not even Democrats have the courage to talk about raising taxes anymore! I confess to feeling overwhelmed by the direction this nation is headed. How does this happen?
Kozol provides a stark picture by considering the "head start" that suburban white children get, and shows up the ridiculous language of "accountability" that we get from the "No Child Left Behind" Act:
If this isn't haunting enough, he goes on to provide a picture of urban school regimens that sound like they're lifted right out of the pages of Foucault's Discipline and Punish or Orwell's 1984. The picture is so overwhelming, it's hard to know how to respond except in a psalm of lament.
Documenting years of visits and conversations with children, teachers, principals, and education bureaucrats at state and federal levels, Kozol paints the picture of a nation that is clearly going backwards. Fifty years after the supposed 'victory' of Brown v. Board of Education, Kozol shows that civil rights legislation hasn't erased racism, and that legislation for equality needs to be backed up by tax laws that could actually fund equality--but we all know that in that respect, America is headed down the wrong road. Not even Democrats have the courage to talk about raising taxes anymore! I confess to feeling overwhelmed by the direction this nation is headed. How does this happen?
Kozol provides a stark picture by considering the "head start" that suburban white children get, and shows up the ridiculous language of "accountability" that we get from the "No Child Left Behind" Act:
Three years later, in third grade, these children are introduced to what are known as "high-stakes tests," which in many urban systems now determine whether students can or cannot be promoted. Children who have been in programs like those offered by the "Baby Ivies" since the age of two have, by now, received the benefits of six or seven years of education, nearly twice as many as the children who have been denied these opportunities; yet all are required to take, and will be measured by, the same examinations. Which of these children will receive the highest scores? The ones who spent the years from two to four in lovely little Montessori programs and in other pastel-painted settings in which tender and attentive and well-trained instructors read to them from beautiful storybooks and introduced them very gently for the first time to the world of numbers and the shapes of letters, and the sizes and varieties of solid objects, and perhaps taught them to sort things into groups or to arrange them in a sequence, or to do those many other interesting things that early childhood specialists refer to as prenumeracy skills? Or the ones who spent those years at home in front of a TV or sitting by the window of a slum apartment gazing down into the street? There is something deeply hypocritical about a society that holds an eight-year-old inner-city child "accountable" for her performance on a high-stakes standardized exam but does not hold the high officials of our government accountable for robbing her of what they gave their own kids six or seven years earlier.
If this isn't haunting enough, he goes on to provide a picture of urban school regimens that sound like they're lifted right out of the pages of Foucault's Discipline and Punish or Orwell's 1984. The picture is so overwhelming, it's hard to know how to respond except in a psalm of lament.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Above All, Save the Merchandise
In the face of al-Quaeda's attack on the Twin Towers and Pentagon, the White House's admonition was clear: "Shop." The one thing the enemy won't destroy is our freedom to go the mall.
And now, in the wake of a national tragedy, we find a similarly ridiculous focus on the market and merchandise. From the NYT:
While children remain stranded on rooftops without fresh water or food, and corpses floating past them, the Mayor is channeling precious human resources to protect Wal-Mart. This is akin to police chases over a stolen $13,000 Honda as justification for lives lost.
Grief over a national tragedy is compounded by an overwhelming sense of the amoral tentacles of the market squeezing our very imaginations.
And now, in the wake of a national tragedy, we find a similarly ridiculous focus on the market and merchandise. From the NYT:
With police officers and National Guard troops giving priority to saving lives, looters brazenly ripped open gates and ransacked stores for food, clothing, television sets, computers, jewelry and guns, often in full view of helpless law-enforcement officials. Dozens of carjackings, apparently by survivors desperate to escape, were reported, as were a number of shootings.
On Wednesday night, Mayor Nagin ordered 1,500 police officers, most of the city's force, to turn from search and rescue to stopping the looting.
While children remain stranded on rooftops without fresh water or food, and corpses floating past them, the Mayor is channeling precious human resources to protect Wal-Mart. This is akin to police chases over a stolen $13,000 Honda as justification for lives lost.
Grief over a national tragedy is compounded by an overwhelming sense of the amoral tentacles of the market squeezing our very imaginations.
Friday, August 26, 2005
A Generous Orthodoxy Think Tank
I've enjoyed being a part of a new venture launched by Stephen Bush called "Generous Orthodoxy: Think Tank." This creates the space for some excellent conversation between evangelicals scholars, graduate students, and practitioners who want to both push the envelope but also remain faithful to the tradition. It includes some of the sharpest young voices in evangelical theology such as John Franke and LeRon Shults. That it has been taking up far too much of my time is testament to how valuable this site will be.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Oh, well, if it's biblical...
I was glad, or at least relieved, to see evangelical leaders--including even Al Mohler--roundly denounced Pat Robertson's remarks about assassinating Hugo Chavez. And Christian charity also requires me to acknowledge that, after some curious backpedalling (in which Robertson seemed to become a deconstructionist as he waxed eloquent about the dissemination of meaning around the phrase "take out," as if the meaning of the word "assassination" was determined by reader-response!), Roberts has now apologized for his comment (though not to Chavez).
However, there's another gem in this news cycle. Marvin Olansky, editor of World magazine (favored periodical of evangelicals devoted to America's civil religion), while criticizing Robertson, also suggested that "Biblically, assassination may be used in times of war, last time I looked we were not at war with Venezuela."
I have not the least doubt that Olansky has "chapter-and-verse" to support this notion, but I'm honestly trying to imagine the hermeneutical framework and biblical theology that could make such a claim possible.
However, there's another gem in this news cycle. Marvin Olansky, editor of World magazine (favored periodical of evangelicals devoted to America's civil religion), while criticizing Robertson, also suggested that "Biblically, assassination may be used in times of war, last time I looked we were not at war with Venezuela."
I have not the least doubt that Olansky has "chapter-and-verse" to support this notion, but I'm honestly trying to imagine the hermeneutical framework and biblical theology that could make such a claim possible.
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