THAT DANGEROUSLY SUBVERSIVE CROSS

And as Jesus was going up to Jerusalem, he took the twelve disciples aside, and on the way he said to them, "Behold, we are going up to Jerusalem; and the Son of man will be delivered to the chief priests and scribes, and they will condemn him to death, and deliver him to the Gentiles to be mocked and scourged and crucified, and he will be raised on the third day."

Then the mother of the sons of Zeb'edee came up to him, with her sons, and kneeling before him she asked him for something. And he said to her, "What do you want?" She said to him, "Command that these two sons of mine may sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom." But Jesus answered, "You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I am to drink?" They said to him, "We are able." He said to them, "You will drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father." And when the ten heard it, they were indignant at the two brothers. But Jesus called them to him and said, "You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great men exercise authority over them. It shall not be so among you; but whoever would be great among you must be your servant, and whoever would be first among you must be your slave; even as the Son of man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." – Matthew 20:17-28 RSV

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For the above quotation I have chosen to use the Revised Standard Version (RSV) translated in the 1950s rather than the Authorized Version of 1611, strictly because I wanted the word “servant” rather than the word “minister.” Granted, in 1611 it was understood that “minister,” as a noun, and “servant” were synonyms, and that “minister” as a verb, and “serve,” were also synonyms. The word translated “servant” in this passage is διακονέω (diakoneo) from which we get the English word “deacon.” It may seem doubly ironic that I chose a word other than “minister,” that is, for any who either never knew or have forgotten that when we call a man a deacon it is the same as calling him a servant.    In a sermon I once wrote for Palm Sunday, expounding on the great Christological passage in Philippians chapter two, I related this story: “In a rather unhappy conversation with a man who aspired to be a priest, I asked the question, ‘What is it that you want?’ He answered me, ‘I want to be a priest; in fact, I want to be a bishop.’ He even said, ‘Isn’t it right to want to get to the top of your field?’ I told him that he should forget the whole idea of Holy Orders for himself. I said I would not help him with it at all. I went on to explain to him that this is not about ambition. Every priest, including the Archbishop, is forever a deacon, that is, a servant. He said that he had never heard that before. Had he not read what Saint Paul tells us? ‘Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.’ In fact, that is for everyone.”

          What we see in the Gospel passage, in the way that St. Matthew placed these two events together in succession, is a very clever use of irony by the former tax collector turned Apostle. In the much the same way St. Luke writes about the other passage in which Jesus said much the same thing to the Apostles as in what we read above. That is because, after telling them that He was about to be handed over to the Gentiles, and that one of them would betray Him to the terrible suffering and death that was now upon Him, we read, “And there was also a strife among them, which of them should be accounted the greatest (Luke 22:24).”

Lifestyles of the rich and famous – and powerful

          In the 1980s, or perhaps 1990s, a weekly television series caught the attention of people who, as I overheard from time to time, discussed it in their places of employment. The name of the program was Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. I never saw it, but I recall people being enraptured about what they had seen. The world, after all, has a value system in which riches, fame and, if I may add one more category, power, are in themselves the zenith of success. Or, to mention the same things, in terms of their spiritual substance, with the words of St. John, “The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life.”

“Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever (I John 2:15-17).”

          It did not escape Patristic notice how those three things line up with the very first temptation mentioned in scripture. “And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat (Genesis 3:6).”

          Those things must be overcome in our hearts if we are to be Christ’s disciples. As much as modern Americans see the Church in terms of shopping and selecting only desired items, and as much as the clergy are tempted here to become competing salesmen in this awkward sort of emotional-religious retail, in reality the Church, wherever she is true to her Lord, has but two things: Discipleship and sainthood.

“And the disciples were called Christians first in Antioch (Acts 11:26).”

“Unto the church of God which is at Corinth, to them that are sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints, with all that in every place call upon the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, both theirs and ours (I Corinthians 1:2).”

          The Christian life is a call to sainthood, which means simply holiness. Holiness means two things: Both that we avoid willful sin, and that we cultivate the virtues that grow in us by the grace of God, given to us by the Holy Spirit (Galatians 5:16-26). The only method is discipleship, and we cannot be disciples without taking up, each of us, our own cross and following the Son of Man. “And he said to them all, If anyone will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me (Luke 9:23).”

Blessed Subversion

            It is not possible to be Christ’s disciples if we have the same value system as the World; that is as St. John uses the word “world,” both in the Epistle passage we have read, and in the opening of his Gospel: “He [the Word or Logos] was in the world, and the world was made by him, and the world knew him not (John 1:10).” In our own time I see a troubling confusion among many American Christians. I have written quite a bit about the problem of churches that are given over to overt heresy, immorality and apostasy. But many American Christians who remain either orthodox, or traditional or Evangelical, demonstrate by their public statements an inability to distinguish between the spirit of the world and the Spirit of Christ. In a world that prizes riches, fame and power, taking up the cross of Christ is entirely contrary. We follow Christus Contra Mundum, that is, in terms of the world’s upside down values, Christ against the world.

          Beginning a few decades ago American Evangelicals began pushing the idea of “Leadership.” In daily mail to the church, among colorful glossy advertisements that I throw away every week are items about conferences with high sounding names like “Raising the Next Generation of Leaders.” How very contrary to the Lord who said, “It shall not be so among you.” Where are the conferences for Raising the Next Generation of Servants? Churches advertise (in a manner most insulting to traditional liturgical churches) their “Passion,” their “Power,” and their “Lively” services – which appear to be mostly entertainment. But disciples have no power in and of themselves, put no confidence in the flesh (Philippians 3:3), and must take up the cross daily to overcome themselves.

          The irony about which Matthew and Luke wrote, which Jesus corrected with His words that the greatest among us is a servant, is in striking consistency with the times in which we live. The twentieth century was a time of severe persecution for the Church, and it has grown more so since the turn of the millennium. Every day Christians face persecution, and in many cases poverty. Many are imprisoned, beaten, tortured or killed for their faith. In Touchstone, a Journal of Mere Christianity, every issue presents news about “The Persecuted Church.” How ironic, then, that in modern times many American Christians believe they will be “Raptured” before some seven year period of a “Great Tribulation” comes on the earth. Not only is that idea based upon a very poor interpretation of Scripture, but it is also a clear symptom of moral failure. If the Spirit of Christ is in them, how then can they fail to empathize with their persecuted brothers and sisters who live and suffer in other parts of the world?*

          It is essential that we become utterly subverted, from the world’s upside down point of view, by the cross of Christ. It is impossible to prevail in the spiritual battle unless we accept His call to take up our cross, and follow Him as disciples. We cannot overcome the power of evil by the arm of the flesh, or by the methods of the world. We must despise the value system of the world, and become servants. We must take the lowest place. We cannot overcome the world unless we become incurably subverted by that which is eternal, the Kingdom of God.

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* About that error I have written before. See “Why I want to be Left Behind,” available in our own archives, and also on Virtue Online.

Bach vs. Arius

This article was published as “Three-Fold Chords” in the October, 2004 issue of Touchstone, a Journal of Mere Christianity.

Robert Hart on the Trinity in Bach

Whether his art is visual, musical, or verbal, the Christian artist presents an apologetic. He does more than refute error; he transcends the mind that holds error. Whether or not he explains the truth, he shows it, that we may see and hear it also.

Theology in Music

Johann Sebastian Bach wrote many a choral piece for the Church, and the words of those pieces reflect his deep faith. Some of the cantatas have texts by an unknown poet, which I suspect was Bach himself, for he wrote poetry as a pastime. Every part of Christian devotion is expressed in his music, from the lofty grandeur of his Sanctus in the B-Minor Mass, to the simple expression of grief at the end of the St. Matthew Passion:

Wir setzen uns

mit Tranen nieder

Und rufen dir im Grabe zu:

Ruhe sanfte, sanfte ruh!

(We prostrate ourselves with tears

and call to you within the grave,

Rest gently,

gently rest!)

And yet, Bach’s music expresses the truth even when no words are used. The very order and logic of it speak of a universe ruled and governed by its Creator. Even more, Bach was able to put theology into the music itself. He did so without any loss to the musical art; for the piece of which I am about to speak is a masterpiece, as moving and inspiring as any can be for the sheer joy of the listening ear. To those who pay attention, a very clear demonstration of the truth is presented in the “St. Anne” Fugue in E-flat Major for organ (BWV 552).

The fugue is a contrapuntal form of music, which means that different lines of melody are played against each other, without strophic chords. A fragment of a melody is stated, which is called the “subject,” in one voice. It is answered and repeated in another voice, which enters, usually in the interval of a fifth, while the first voice plays what is called the “counter-subject.” A third voice enters, usually returning to the “root” key, and so on. Most fugues have four voices.

The art of the fugue lies in the development of the piece, with its subject always being repeated, as it modulates into different keys and keeps the lines of melody moving with good harmonic flavor throughout. Sometimes the subject disappears very briefly and we are treated to what is called an “episode.” The purpose of the “episode” is to lead us into the next statement of the subject.

The “St. Anne” Fugue is a triple fugue. Each of the three sections, which I will identify as A, B, and C, is part of the fugue and yet is at the same time itself a complete fugue. The opening notes of the hymn “O God, Our Help in Ages Past” are clearly stated as the subject for A. It develops as all fugues do, as each voice comes in and the fugue modulates from key to key, but then it resolves rather quickly in an unsatisfying conclusion. This is because we are not done, and are meant to anticipate more.

B starts, with its mysterious-sounding subject, and we are treated to the typical fugal voice entries; but when it starts to develop, we hear suddenly that the subject of A has reappeared. Is it being used as a counter-subject to each subsequent entry of the B subject as it develops and modulates, or is B an “episode” rather than a new fugue?

But we are still not done. For this section also concludes too suddenly for us to feel that it is over, and the entrance of a very joyful-sounding subject introduces the third fugue, or the third section. Again, C goes through its entries of voices with subject and counter-subject, and then we hear the subjects of A and B played together in counterpoint as an “episode.” In fact, this combination provides an “episode” between entrances of the C subject a few times, until the whole piece ends with the clear statement of the A subject.

The fact that the piece ends with the subject of A unifies it and makes it one fugue, but it also sounds like three fugues. Also, B and C both derive from and depend on A, yet each of them is equal to A. Is the “St. Anne” Fugue one piece or three pieces?

Bach Against Arius

It seems that we have a problem similar to that which confronted Arius, the fourth-century heretic who made the Council of Nicea necessary. He could not believe that it made any sense that Christians worship a God who is three Persons. The doctrine of the Trinity offended his sense of mathematical purity, a purity based upon a simplistic, undeveloped understanding.

He did not deny that the Word is a Person to be worshiped, and so he made of him a god, but one who is a creature of the One God. He also denied the existence of the Holy Spirit as a Person. His devotion to pure monotheism had the ironic effect of leading him into advocating a kind of polytheism. At the root of it was a simple inability to appreciate the complexity of divine transcendence, combined with an inability to appreciate that complexity as reflected within creation, as a genuine student of mathematics should be able to do.

One of the heroes of the Council of Nicea, St. Athanasius, spent a lifetime refuting the error of Arius, and did so at great personal expense, going more than once into exile. For centuries, Christian theologians have refuted the Arian heresy, mostly by proving that the Trinity is a doctrine revealed clearly in the Scriptures and understood to be true by the Church in every age. No one claims to understand the Trinity fully, but rather to understand the doctrine of the Trinity that has been revealed to the Church, for the first would be to fully understand God, which we cannot do, and the second is to understand what he has said, which we can.

The Christian artist Johann Sebastian Bach did something, however, that theologians and scholars cannot do with all of the words of every language. Bach did not refute Arius; instead, he showed musically how the problem that vexed Arius could be solved. The “St. Anne” Fugue does not explain the truth; it demonstrates it with mathematical complexity, and yet with the simplicity of genius.

Is the “St. Anne” Fugue one or three? The answer, which every ear can hear for itself, is that “these three are one.”

The author recommends Jaroslav Pelikan’s Bach Among the Theologians as a treatment of Bach’s religious music.

...with all thy mind

Anglican mission work has been successful in college towns to a degree that many church traditions have not. One of the chief attributes of our ethos is that we seem to thrive where the mind is challenged. Traditional Anglicans have never feared the arena in which intellectual prowess is required to defend the Faith. We have never feared the progress of science, the difficult questions of philosophy, the theory of evolution, or debates with atheists. In order to evangelize in the modern world it is necessary to have a tough and strong faith that stands up under the pressures of modern thought. But, in very recent years we have been given an ironic challenge: To withstand modern prejudice of the most "enlightened" kind as it comes to us from the age of higher illiteracy- the sort of illiteracy that only a very modern college can provide. In a time when people earn degrees that demonstrate no true education, but rather an amount of indoctrination, the time has come to recognize that modern education itself will collapse unless it is revitalized by its historical source, the Christian Church that created it in the first place.

A few years ago I spoke with a young woman who was majoring in English at the University of Maryland, and listened to her describe what she had been taught in a class on the works of William Shakespeare. Did she learn to appreciate his ingenious economy of words? Did she understand the meaning of his stories, whether the tragedy of Hamlet, a man who could not make up his mind, or the irony of MacBeth -how the promises made by the weird sisters were deceptive in their accuracy, and brought about their own punishment? Did she understand the guilty abdication of King Lear and the fruit of his sin visited on his own head? Did the comedies provide for her any pleasure, such as A Midsummer Nights Dream? The extent of her understanding of Shakespeare was simply this: She learned that it was important to detect the bias of "white male literature." The course was not intended to educate, but to do the very opposite. Instead of helping the mind to learn and grow, the course stifled the mind with irrelevance and the higher illiteracy of "enlightened" bigotry.

Saint Paul wrote to the Church of Rome that they needed to offer themselves to the Lord; that this was their reasonable liturgy of prayer that involves the whole of life poured out to God. But, in order to do so, they had to renew their minds (Romans 12: 1, 2). To think as a Christian is not easy, especially in this era. We live in a time in which many people catch their opinions (or, as they say, their feelings) the way that one catches a virus. To assimilate the bias of modern “civilization” requires no effort, because we are surrounded by sound bites and other forms of subliminal propaganda. Ideas are fed into our minds before we know what has happened, and we never had to think. The use of Right Reason, along with Scripture and Tradition, as the authoritative way to learn and know the truth, is an art and discipline that takes effort. It requires the effort of refuting wrong ideas, and the more serious task of learning the truth.

In many ways, to think with a Christian mind is as defiant as human flight. It seems unnatural to wrestle the powers of gravity, to take off and soar, and then to land. Indeed, a pilot must intend at every moment of flight to keep the airplane up, and must work to do so, or it will come crashing down. That is what it is like to think with a renewed mind, that is, with a Christian mind. It requires intention and effort to defy the gravity of the zeitgeist, the spirit of the times, which uses every means to abolish thought. Thank God that we have been given help. We have at our disposal a rich collection of writing that is suited for our times, with keen intellectual prowess and prophetic insight, yet written for the common man.

We cannot expect the young students of this age to grapple with our theologians, such as Francis Hall and Eric Mascall, until they have learned to think (which may require unlearning many anti-intellectual habits of the modern university system). We do have writers who can reach across the divide, however. And, as always, one name stands out in particular. Chief among the most relevant and helpful of modern writers was the great Anglican thinker, C.S. Lewis.

A great deal of attention has been drawn to his fictional works, by, of all unlikely sources, Disney studios. And, indeed, his fictional writing is excellent. In addition to the Narnia stories, his space trilogy contains one of the greatest English novels of modern times, That Hideous Strength. Even in works of fiction, his Christian philosophy is expressed in the clearest of terms, containing the prophetic element by which his critique of modern (or post modern) anti-culture becomes more relevant as time passes, than during his lifetime. Yet, even more helpful still, in any honest endeavor to sharpen mental faculties, is his non-fiction, which comprises the bulk of his extant published works. In order to jump in and benefit from a good collection of his best thinking, no better book with which to begin is the collection of essays published under the title God in the Dock.

In one volume, the reader is given a sample of Lewis as theologian and philosopher, as moralist and social critic. His religious devotion and literary knowledge contribute to the overall understanding of the man, and of his renewed Christian mind, in such a way as to help the mental pilot who is only just learning to keep his mind soaring above the gravity of a fallen world. Of course, before making the effort of reading Lewis- easy to do as he combines light reading with heavy thinking in a most engaging style- the decision to fly must first be made. One must first decide that it is the religious duty of Christians to learn and to think. But, remember, flying, though requiring intention and effort, can be quite pleasurable.

Getting back to the need to save education from the bigotry, intellectual laziness and indoctrination of this age; just as I said about seminaries I say about the university system in the modern world. We must not simply equal the accredited institutions of alleged higher learning; we must surpass them. In very practical terms, students need history and classical languages, since linguistic roots are essential knowledge to anyone who wants to understand serious thought. Why would I even bring this up among Continuing Anglicans who are trying to grapple with the problem of clergy education, and keep their own churches afloat? Who better?

Religion and the Common Good

This talk was delivered by Charles J. Chaput, O.F.M. Cap., the Roman Catholic archbishop of Denver, at the John Cardinal Krol Conference in Philadelphia on April 21. It it is a must read.

"We most truly serve the common good by having the courage to be disciples of Jesus Christ. God gave us a free will, but we need to use it. Discipleship has a cost. Jesus never said that we didn’t need a spine. The world doesn’t need affirmation. It needs conversion. It doesn’t need the approval of Christians. It needs their witness. And that work needs to begin with us. Bernanos said that the 'scandal of Creation [isn’t] suffering but freedom.' He said that 'moralists like to regard sanctity as a luxury; actually it is a necessity.' He also said that 'one may believe that this isn’t the era of the saints; that the era of the saints has passed. [But] it is always the era of the saints.'

"The only thing that matters is to be a saint. At least we can try. And if we do, God will take care of the rest."

Read it all here.