Pilgrimage Journal

October 2000-February 2001
Lady Lake, Florida

	10/2
	It took me over a week to settle down, to be able to be still and not squirm. My first few days here were spent almost entirely indoors. I didn't walk a step further than I had to. I think I grabbed on to the rest and the security and the comforts; it began to bother me and I shook out of it, but I was really off for a few days. The question in my mind was: What am I doing here? There wasn't the same sense of immediacy--in my needs, in contact with other people, in my clinging to God. So it took a few days to adjust and recover my identity. Not MY identity, but my contact with Christ who the identity of all his Body, including me.
	For the moment, I've dedicated my time to typing up my journals, and doing some research. There's lots of books available on the internet, so I don't even need to go to a library. Through reading an article by Bertrand Russell (an old favorite), I discovered the anarchists. Not terrorists, but social theorists, including Proudhon, Kropotkin, and Chomsky. I've been able to find a good selection of their work. And I'm greatly relieved to read what they had to say.
	I think they're all atheists, so that's no comfort, and their conclusions aren't very helpful, either. But their critique of society (especially concerning politics and economics) is very similar to what I have been saying. And some of them were writing over 150 years ago! Good scholarly, educated, reasonable approach, too. It helps me feel less like a crack-pot.
	Anarchism means "no ruler." So it's obviously against government authority, but also against other means of controlling people, such as economic and social coercion. Three societal forms of oppression that the anarchists want to eliminate are: private property, the wage system, and the coercive machinery of the State. Instead of private property rights based on purchase/inheritance, property and resources should be possessed by those that need them to perform their work, in the amount they need. And instead of wages that tie the worker to the employer (or owner) like a slave to a master, the necessities of life (at least) should be available free to all--people's work should be motivated by their gifts and interests, not the fear of starvation. And as for the State, its authority and use of physical coercion (police, military) are unnecessary and oppressive. Organization, cooperation, yes; but it should be free and voluntary, not forced. That's what the anarchists say, as far as I can gather. And much of it echoes what I've been thinking, and where the Gospel seems to be pointing.
	Of course, the anarchists have always been branded as idealistic dreamers. They attack the systems that are 'working' in society and offer nothing but fantasies as alternatives. And I have to agree, somewhat. The utopia that anarchists promise will never exist unless there is a MASSIVE change of heart among people. A change of 'the system' or the granting of great freedoms will not automatically inspire people to be selfless and giving towards one another, as the anarchists seem to suggest. But that doesn't change the fact that they HAVE identified the ideal. And they are right when they compare our society to that ideal and find it to be lacking, a coercive and oppressive fraud. The answer, however, is not a change of the system but a change of heart. A change of a whole lot of hearts.
	But that takes too long for most anarchists. And how can they live with the freedoms and ideals they hold so dear when society and the system are the way they are? So they turn to revolutionary (and often violent) means to overthrow the present social and economic structure. Bad.

	And when Jesus drew near and saw the city he wept over it, saying, 
	"Would that even today you knew the things that make for peace! But now 
	they are hid from your eyes." (Lk 19.41-42)

	I think the problem is that they gave up on God too quickly. They identified the oppression of institutional religion, rejected it, and rejected God with it. But the love of God is the only hope for the changes of heart necessary to move toward their ideals. And the providence of God provides the only way to live their ideals (really GOD'S ideals) when society continues to operate far below those ideals. I've been trying to live very similarly to the ideals they hold: without property (no home or investments), giving freely (not working for pay; rather motivated by love), and free from the State (not believing in it or participating in it--no property or income to tax, even!). And I've been able to survive while living this 'impossible' way by God's generous provision through others. I believe we don't have to wait for the perfect system to be put in place. If we follow God's perfect way (his gospel, his ideal), he will make our path possible.

	10/3
	I came upon this passage near the end of Russell's book. It seemed to be saying some of the same things I have been writing:

	A life lived in this spirit--the spirit that aims at creating [motivated
	by hope] rather than possessing [motivated by fear]--has a certain
	fundamental happiness, of which it cannot be wholly robbed by adverse 
	circumstances. This is the way of life recommended in the Gospels, and 
	by all the great teachers of the world. Those who have found it are 
	freed from the tyranny of fear, since what they value most in their 
	lives is not at the mercy of outside power. If all men could summon up 
	the courage and the vision to live in this way in spite of obstacles and 
	discouragement, there would be no need for the regeneration of the world 
	to begin by political and economic reform: all that is needed in the way 
	of reform would come automatically, without resistance, owing to the 
	moral regeneration of individuals. But [though] the teaching of Christ 
	has been nominally accepted by the world for many centuries, ...those 
	who follow it are still persecuted as they were before the time of 
	Constantine. ("Proposed Roads to Freedom," by Bertrand Russell, 1917)

He continues, "Experience has proved that few are able to see through the apparent evils of an outcast's life to the inner joy that comes of faith and creative hope." Russell concludes that the only answer is to change society, to make it easier to live creatively. But the struggle with persecution and the experience of an outcast's life are the very things that purify our hearts and work a moral regeneration in us. Society is wrong in its persecution, but God uses even that to free us and make us perfect. And we DON'T have to wait for political and economic reform to begin really LIVING.
	----------

	Kropotkin observed that there are several features of our present society that approximate what the anarchists recommend. Things such as libraries, parks, roads, etc. (I would also include churches among these; and with libraries, the internet). These resources are free for anyone who desires to use them, as much as they desire to use them. It struck me to read this. Because these are the very same places where I spent almost all my time while on pilgrimage. I had naturally sought them out as places of refuge.

	10/5
	We are in the midst of the presidential campaigns, which are now serving up the Debates. Of course most major networks air the debates (but not all, some showed a movie or baseball--a new development!) and there is much attention paid to the ideas expressed by the candidates. But there is also strong skepticism. Yesterday, I overheard someone ask, "Are you going to watch the liars tonight?" And I recently saw, in a political journal, an article entitled: "They're Both Liars!" After the presidential debates, a panel of experts even analyzed the candidates words to check for accuracy. They found that both candidates spoke more than 15 untrue statements (intentional or not). It all leads to a general feeling of cynicism and apathy: the people are dissatisfied with how obvious the political deceit and manipulation has become, but what can they do?
	I've been reading some of Noam Chomsky's "Necessary Illusions: Thought Control in Democratic Societies," which analyzes the use of the media to manipulate public opinion. Since he wrote that, in 1989, it's only gotten more blatant. But the idea is that the public will never fully understand the issues or be enlightened enough to make sound decisions, so leaders MUST deceive them a little to get them to support the RIGHT policies. And the media is the perfect tool to create this "necessary illusion." Of course it's the rich and powerful that must make this happen; they make the decisions and then adjust public opinion as necessary to provide support for those decisions. But it's for the good, isn't it? The people would never be able to handle such decisions on their own, would they?
	But I don't need to dwell on that. My concern is not about what THEY do, but what WE do. Blaming powerful politicians and corporations doesn't help me and my peers to be/act/live better. But there is something in the mindset just stated that touches much closer to home. It's of the noblesse oblige variety. I was talking to a friend earlier this week and I seemed to hear something like this. That we, as the (somewhat) wealthy and (fairly) well-educated, have a obligation to help the poor and struggling. Of course that's true. I would suggest we keep giving to them until we have no more to give. But that's not what my friend had in mind, I think. In order to CONTINUE giving, we must REMAIN wealthy; in order to CONTINUE to help the unfortunate to organize and progress, we must REMAIN in powerful positions. Like the imperialist nation who won't leave the nation they're occupying--because "these poor people still NEED us." It comes down to the powerful (rich, educated, respected) people imposing their will on the powerless. Supposedly out of some noble duty. But, not surprisingly, this leads to the powerful remaining powerful and the powerless remaining "in their place." Not too noble, if you ask me. And not too loving, whether it occurs at the level of nations, or local charity organizations, or between individuals.
	I shouldn't be using my money/status/influence to force someone less fortunate to accept my plan for them. I should simply give what I can give (in good conscience--but I can always give the necessities of life in good conscience). That's in the spirit of Jesus words, "Give to every one who begs from you, and of him who takes away your goods do not ask them again." (Lk 6.30--right after "turn the other cheek") Love is not coercion. Love is not manipulation. Love is giving until we have given everything. And if we end up as poor and helpless as the ones we've been trying to help? Then rejoice! These are the ones closest to God's heart, especially when they've become poor by pouring themselves out for others.

	10/6
	Being alone, you can't do anything. 
	All you can do is deplore the situation.

	I stumbled on this statement in an interview of Noam Chomsky. Someone asked why he always responded to the question "But what can we DO?" with one less-than-satisfying word: "Organize." So he expanded on it with these not-too-hopeful words. And he's done so much work; I see thousands of pages of research, books, interviews, over many years. Has he even made a dent? And reading Proudhon this morning, I was shocked by how much he wrote attempting to prove the injustice of private property, just focusing on that. But who today would even consider the possibility that it's true? Also looked into the Watergate scandal. At least one victory, right? It took a lot of work and digging and personal risk, but the lie was uncovered, wasn't it? Sure, now we know how much deceit and intrigue goes on behind the political scene. We know our leaders are dirty and manipulative. But we still vote for them anyway--because no one else has a chance to win! Someone's laughing about all this, I'm sure.
	I guess what I'm saying is that I don't think "Organize" gets us substantially closer to the change we're looking for. Proudhon, Woodward and Bernstein, and Chomsky didn't change things, really. And the saddest thing is that, not only didn't they free the nation from the plague that they identified, they couldn't even free themselves. After all their work, they can only look back with the few people they have convinced and "deplore the situation."
	That's the problem with atheistic anarchism. It offers no solution. "No ruler" is on the right track, but if that only gives people freedom--without security and justice--then it fails. People will quickly sacrifice their freedom to rulers who can provide even the ILLUSION of security and justice. If the freedom that anarchism offers means autonomy, we don't want it. Because the source of the security and justice that we need is not US. In truth, no human being can give these to us, but powerful organizations of people can at least make it SEEM like we have them. And that's good enough for most people.

	Many seek the favor of a ruler,
	but from the Lord a person gets justice. (Pr 29.26)

	True security and true justice are found only in God, and only through faith. Thus anarchism is only helpful if it results in, not autonomy, but theonomy. God becomes our ruler. That's the answer that an atheistic anarchism cannot provide. "No ruler" is right--no ruler but God. And we don't have to wait for a full-scale coup to change our allegiance and start living a new life. We CAN do something alone; actually, we have to do something alone: Defect to God. But our new life in him is not alone. It unites us with all who also serve God as the only legitimate ruler of our lives. And it also offers our lives to everyone else, as evidence of the reality of his reign. Then we are ORGANIZED, into the Body of Christ, guided by the Holy Spirit. We don't have to organize before we can do anything; and we aren't condemned to merely "deplore the situation." We can act now: We can open our eyes in faith. And surrender to the sovereignty of God.

	10/9
	We know that we are of God,
	and that the whole world is in the power of the evil one.

	Reading the First Letter of John yesterday morning, I came upon this very paranoid-sounding passage (5.19). It reminded me of all the 'master conspiracy' images I've been wading through recently. There's the Watergate scandal (I watched "All the President's Men," the prototype for later conspiracy imagery--the "X-Files" mimics it exactly); plus the anarchist stuff, and Noam Chomsky with his theories about the use of the media to manipulate public opinion. And I find most of it pretty convincing. But I think the reality is both better and worse than the conspiracy theories depict it.
	I think the movie "The Usual Suspects" gets closer. A mysterious figure floats though the movie. He is almost too powerful and vicious to be believable, even the characters take him to be largely myth, yet all seem to fear him at some level. He can find out anything about anybody. People serve him everywhere, yet they usually don't know that they are serving him or how they are serving him. He seems to be involved in everything, yet no one knows his overall plan or purpose. All his activity is shrouded in lies and unwitting accomplices. Yet he seems to be able to do whatever he wants to whomever he chooses. Not surprisingly, he is identified as the devil himself. (Best line: "The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he didn't exist.")
	But all the conspiracy theories--"X-Files," Watergate, Chomsky, even "The Usual Suspects"--seem to fall short of the reality. No matter how wide-ranging and threatening they appear, the real conspiracy is worse: "...the whole world is in the power of the evil one." In any actual conspiracy we identify, the most powerful mastermind is really an unwitting pawn in the hands of a greater mastermind. And even the unorganized 'free agents' in the rest of society are also promoting his cause. In most cases, people really don't know what they are doing; they're just following the path that seems in their best interest. But they are being used. Again and again, WE are being used. To discourage, disillusion, distract, disassociate others. To tear people apart. To press them towards despair. To confuse and frighten and destroy. If we can't see how we're doing this to others, just look at what we are experiencing from others. It's what they give and what we angrily return. And it's all working together too well to just be a coincidence--or the work of any human being.
	I believe that this 'worst case' conspiracy theory is true, and far worse than any movie-maker can dream up. But the reality is also much better than in the movies. In the best conspiracy stories, the OVERALL plan always eludes us. Like with Watergate, we uncover part of the hidden workings of the conspiracy, but not the full extent, not everything. So it makes us paranoid. With such a vast hidden agenda and countless hidden operatives, how can we possibly expect to fight it? And when the ominous 'They' has all the money and power? It reminds me of Chomsky's statement: "Being alone, you can't do anything. All you can do is deplore the situation." And he said that after seeing only the tip of the iceberg.
	So how is the reality better? Because we can know the agenda of the "evil one." And we can fight it. By faith. Faith shows us that the conspiracy is far more terrible than people imagine (Who believes "the whole world is in the power of the evil one"?). But faith also shows us the purpose of this vast and powerful conspiracy: to turn people's hearts from God, to destroy their faith. So the faith that identifies the threat also repels it. The way to fight the "evil one" is to act in faith. Such action both frees us from the falsehood of the world and makes us a witness to the truth of God. It destroys the power of evil over us and offers others a chance to see what freedom is. (Radical examples: turn the other cheek, give freely, love your enemy). And faith also shows us that, though the "evil one" may have power over men's minds, physical reality remains in God's power. God: the one who works everything for good--always. As John says earlier in his incredible letter: "...he who is in you is greater than he who is in the world." (1 Jn 4.4) Many people, being used with or without their knowledge, may thrust the faithful person out, towards poverty and exile. But these faithful will always be in God's careful hand. And they will KNOW. Any rational observer can recognize some of the horrible work of 'the conspiracy' of the world, but the person of faith knows its source and purpose. And the person of faith knows freedom ("...you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free." Jn 8.32) This freedom is deliverance from the fear of 'They,' it is the ultimate threat to 'the conspiracy,' and it is FOR ALL.

	10/10
	A few passages of note: The first, Matthew 20.25-28, just seems to fit so well with the previous discussions of politics and coercion. It moves in a direction the anarchists would appreciate, but it goes farther then they could understand.

	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.

	Also, I've been reading the Tao Te Ching, an ancient text held sacred by the Taoist religion. Many parts anticipate anarchist teachings (for example: "Bearing without possessing, nurturing without taming, shaping without forcing, this is harmony"; or: "When palaces are kept up, fields are left to weeds and granaries empty; wearing fine clothes, bearing sharp swords, glutting with food and drink, hoarding wealth and possessions--these are the ways of theft, and far from the Way."). But this passage--from 'chapter' 8 of the Tao Te Ching--is the one I really like. It carries something of the 'non-interference' idea, but it also seems to point to self-denial and obedience. It makes me think of pilgrimage, too.

	The best of man is like water,
	Which benefits all things, and does not contend with them,
	Which flows in places that others disdain,
	Where it is in harmony with the Way.

	10/12
	One of the major themes in the Tao Te Ching is "action in inactivity." In quietness and stillness, great things can be accomplished, battles won. This ties in with another major theme, "harmony," which is mentioned in the passages above. By living in harmony, we can act without striving, and lead without coercion. It reminds me of the whole active life vs. contemplative life argument. Doing vs. being, the practical vs. the ideal, etc. The idea that peace, solitude, and prayer are most powerful--yet if we don't DO SOMETHING, nothing will happen.
	I think the greatest challenge to Taoist "inactivity," or contemplative spirituality in general, is the problem of evil. We can't just let evil happen, can we? We HAVE to act, resist, fight, kill when it comes to evil, right? What other choice do we have? To this, Jesus responds with one of the hardest sayings he ever uttered (Mt 5.38-41):

	"You have heard that it was said, 'An eye for and eye and a tooth for a
	tooth.' But I say to you, Do not resist one who is evil. But if anyone
	strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also; and if 
	anyone would sue you and take your coat, let him have your cloak as
	well; and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two miles. 

This is not submitting to evil out of fear. It is overcoming evil with good. Evil can find no handhold in our lives, because we have died to ourselves and death has no more place in us. Like it says in the Tao Te Ching (50):

	Those who are filled with life
	Need not fear tigers and rhinos in the wilds,
	Nor wear armor and shields in battle;
	The rhinoceros finds no place in them for its horn,
	The tiger no place for its claw,
	The soldier no place for a weapon,
	For death finds no place in them.

Evil cannot hurt one who is purified by love; when love endures evil, the evil is quenched. And all who are involved benefit.
	This all helps describe the activity of faith. Faith is really inactivity: death to self, openness, surrender. Yet it is the portal to love, which is the source of all good action. Love is the activity in faith's inactivity. Love motivates our good-doing, while we remain in the non-doing of faith. Faith does not strive or resist or coerce. Yet, through faith, love creates, heals, conquers, overcoming all evil. Love cannot be overcome; it is the ground of all being, God himself. And faith is 'harmony' with God.

	10/15
	... the Sage sets his spirit free, while knowledge is regarded as
	extraneous growths--agreements are for cementing relationships, goods 
	are only for social dealings, and the handicrafts are only for serving 
	commerce. For the Sage does not contrive, and therefore has no use for 
	knowledge; he does not cut up the world, and therefore requires no 
	cementing of relationships; he has no loss, and therefore has no need to 
	acquire; he sells nothing, and therefore has no use for commerce. These 
	four qualifications are bestowed upon him by God, that is to say, he is 
	fed by God. (Chuang Tzu)

	10/17
	Dave's been here almost a week, so it's been pretty busy. I've been struggling a little with the busyness and my position as family member, social expectations, etc. So I went looking for passages about Jesus and his family. There aren't many, but I did like this one, near the beginning of John 7:

	So [Jesus'] brothers said to him, "Leave here and go to Judea, that your 
	disciples may see the works you are doing. For no man works in secret if 
	he seeks to be known openly. If you do these things, show yourself to
	the world." For even his brothers did not believe in him. Jesus said to 
	them, "My time has not yet come, but your time is always here. The world 
	cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify of it that its works 
	are evil." 

The last line stood out initially; these words, plus Jesus' decision not to go with his family to Jerusalem, communicates a little of his experience of isolation. Even his family does not believe in him. And if they do not believe, they cannot understand why he says and does what he does.
	But the real power of this passage for me is in the contrast between his brothers' advice and Jesus' behavior. It's the whole question of Jesus NOT seeking fame or a wide audience. He goes around telling people to be quiet about him. When the crowd grows too excited with enthusiasm for him and wants to put him in a position of authority, he slips away. Though he certainly gets lots of attention, Jesus again and again gives the impression that he's not trying to get a big following. At least he acts very different from most people who are trying to establish a religion or start a movement. It's not surprising that his brothers prod him, saying, "For no man works in secret if he seeks to be known openly. If you do these things, show yourself to the world."
	But they are not speaking out of belief, but with a worldly wisdom (perhaps mockingly). I see this same "wisdom" acting in politics and organized religion. The outrageous presidential campaigns are bellowing all around me; but even more 'selfless' causes follow the same model. I've been reading about socialists and anarchists that (apparently) were trying to help people by changing the social environment (without taking power themselves), and they also shouted their slogans and used powerful rhetoric to whip up support. Many preachers do the same thing. Working tirelessly, they speak and travel and organize, with greater or lesser success. Maybe they gain a following. Maybe they even start a new church. But even if a political agitator or inspired preacher is interested only in the movement, and not at all in their own fame or wealth, they still use the same methods. More speeches, more pamphlets, more advertising. More words, bigger words, LOUDER words. And the people will come a-runnin'.
	Jesus' way was different. I think it's best summarized by the prophecy of Isaiah (42.2):

	He will not cry or lift up his voice,
		or make it heard in the street...

And the Gospel of Matthew explains that Jesus fulfilled these words by ordering people not to make him known. The passage is even quoted (Mt 12.19):

	He will not wrangle or cry aloud,
		nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets...

This is something very different from the worldly disciple-makers.
	Of course my concern is mostly for Christian preaching, and whether I should be 'getting out there.' Doing more. It looks like I might end up spending the whole winter here, maybe six months. That's longer than I anticipated, but it won't be warm enough to sleep outside until April at the earliest. So I wonder if waiting is ok. And I've wondered as I walk if I should be more aggressive, because so far I've just been waiting for people to inquire. Many good conversations have started that way, but then I read about famous preachers traveling constantly, and engaging people everywhere, setting up meetings, gathering followers, organizing churches. Very much in the style of the Apostle Paul. Or the socialists, or the presidential candidates. But, with all respect to Paul, I don't see Jesus acting like that.
	Jesus didn't seem to be focused on membership. At times, he told people NOT to spread the word about him. He intentionally said things that drove the crowds away (see Jn 6.25-66). He didn't play the political game AT ALL. And he promised that his followers would be hated and persecuted by the world. I get the impression that he was more concerned about presenting the truth clearly and purely than about gaining a following. He was to be a witness to the truth, and he was--he was THE TRUTH. That's what was important. It's not about how much he accomplished, or how many members he signed up (at his death, the few followers he had were scattered). It's about what he was, what he IS.
	There's no need to "wrangle or cry aloud" about that. Others may need to convince many to gain authority or legitimacy. But Jesus IS. The truth that he lived so clearly existed from eternity. Much of the truth that Jesus spoke is apparent to people who don't know anything of the gospel (even atheists see it--some anarchists seem closer to the gospel than many Christians are). Jesus wasn't introducing anything new (the subsequent creation of a new organized religion clouded this fact). What was unique about Jesus was that he was pure TRUTH. Never before and never since has the world seen the truth presented so perfectly. And he didn't need to make a big noise to be such a perfect witness. Jesus' greatest act of witness, his revelation of the full extent of God's love for us, was to endure death--in silence. 
	I believe that's what we should attempt to emulate. Not loud words, not big followings. (There's been so many big followings in Christianity, and how WRONG they've gone! How few among the throngs have actually followed JESUS!) Not popularity, fame, power, but CHRIST-LIKEness. Being witnesses to the truth like he was ("For this I was born, and for this I have come into the world, to bear witness to the truth." Jn 18.37). 'Success' shouldn't mean gaining many followers. Rather, we should expect FEW to follow the truth ("For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life, and those who find it are few." Mt 7.14); having a big following should be a warning that we may be STRAYING from the truth. It's not about followings, or accomplishment, or being well-known. It's about living the truth clearly and purely, as witnesses in the world. It's about a good life. It's about Christ's life lived now--IN US.

	10/18
	I think the real crux of yesterday's comments is in the second to last paragraph. That's the difference between the truth of Christ and every other philosophy or religion or institution. To exist, those things HAVE TO constantly drum up support. If nobody is convinced anymore, they simply disappear (from all but the pages of history books). If political ideologies are not put into practice, they are nothing. If no one follows religious or political leaders, they have absolutely NO power. So there must be a constant pressure to push and preach and organize for those causes. The pressure to propagandize. To lie or distort if necessary, so that people will follow--people must follow. Because these ideologies are vulnerable; they are nothing without followers. 
	The truth of Christ is different. His truth, his Body, IS. It's not vulnerable and remains perfect and whole no matter how many choose to follow. If we become part of him, WE gain, not him. The whole drive for evangelism is not to bolster Christian power or solidify the truth of Christ's claims. We're not trying to get a majority so we can set up 'the Kingdom.' Evangelism is FOR US. It's OFFERED for our sake, not PUSHED for the sake of reinforcing the ideology. And Christian preaching should reflect this. We don't HAVE TO preach the gospel, not for God's sake, or our sake. It might help someone else (who we might love?) so we do preach; but the pressure described above is not there. Because God is GOD. Not only does he ensure the eternal existence of the truth in the world, and the perfection of the Body of Christ, and the eventual establishment of his kingdom--he also ensures that EVERYONE has a chance to be a part of it all. GOD ensures it.
	There's plenty of arguments against this, and I want to attack them and make a stronger argument, a proof. But I don't need to. It's the truth. We don't HAVE TO preach like false ideologies have to. If we think traveling or speaking or organizing will help someone that we love come to know God, fine. From what I've seen, I'm not very impressed by the efficacy of those activities. The only way I can do them and not get hopelessly frustrated and depressed is that I know that it DOESN'T depend on me. God may use something I do, or he may not; but the responsibility is always HIS. My task is NOT to 'make it happen.' It is simply to be a witness. To try to let Christ shine through as clearly and purely as possible, loving the people I meet. Just be a witness.

	10/21
	I notice all this month I've been writing thoughts, with no descriptions of what I'm doing. I guess because I'm not doing much. Walks in the morning often, starting out in the dark and stopping to pray as the sun rises. That's nice. But most of the day is spent in front of the computer, reading or writing.
	As the last couple entries indicate, I've been thinking about NOT doing much. I'm very comfortable and not making any great efforts on behalf of others. That raises warning flags for me. But I don't want to rush into a flurry of activity from the wrong motivation. I don't want to do things, just to be doing something. I've seen too much of that to expect anything good from 'busy work.' Instead, I want to use the books available online and read and write to clarify the thoughts and experiences I had this past summer. So I will be better prepared when I go out again (probably not before April).
	 But I think there is great value in not HAVING to be always doing something. To have patience and the ability to wait. I think that is central to faith. The ability to recognize the right direction is tied to the ability to avoid rushing off in the wrong direction. Simone Weil expressed this well. She said she wouldn't do ANYTHING until love FORCED her to do it. She was very careful to be acting only in obedience to love (God's love), and not according some mistaken judgment of her own. I think that's good. But a big part of that is the ability to WAIT, to do nothing until the right answer presents itself. That's especially difficult, since others (in their insecurity and poor judgment) constantly pressure us into action. And our upbringing has conditioned us to feel guilty if we're not always being productive. At least I feel that way often. I've been struggling with that for several years now, and have made much progress. It's being able to discern between laziness and patience in myself, which is not always so easy.
	I read an essay today by William James, about pacifism ("The Moral Equivalent to War), and it seems to fit here. He highlighted the importance of a pacifism that does not lose the "manliness" that usually accompanies militarism. He recognized that self-control, courage, self-sacrifice, and physical toughness are all good things. And if we give up fighting we should be careful not to lose these 'manly' virtues. I think that's right. There's nothing wrong with eating well and sleeping on a soft bed and having leisure to study and write--I think these are very good, in fact. Only they must not make us weak and dependent. We must not give in to temptations towards excessive self-indulgence, which can lead to poor health and depressiveness (that's my experience, at least). Keeping this in mind helps me discern between laziness and patience.
	I'd like to use this leisure time in the best possible way. Enjoying all that is good and yet never trying to hold on to it. Being able to wait patiently until God reveals his purposes. And staying alert and awake ('manly' readiness) while I wait, so my mind is stimulated and creative. I think that is great preparation for pilgrimage. And also a very good way to live.

	10/24
	I discovered some of G.K. Chesterton's political and historical writings and they look very interesting. Today there was a discussion of dogma. He was simply insisting that our positions must be definitive and clearly stated so we can have a shot at understanding one another. I agree with that. But I balk at an attachment to a fixed dogma (it usually becomes fixed once it's written down and 'authorized'). Not because such dogma is too tough and unyielding, but because it soon becomes absurd and is then easily side-stepped. Just like when Jesus spoke on behalf of the spirit of the Law over against the letter of the Law. His version of the Law was not easier, it was much, much harder (see the Sermon on the Mount). The letter of the Law was a menace not because it was too crushing, but because it was useless weight, absurd weight, dead weight. The true Law that Jesus proposed was really much harder--and not so easily avoided.
	Add to this Paul's idea that the purpose of the Law is to convict us of sin (Rom 7, especially v. 13), and the picture is almost complete. We are not supposed to 'get the answer to life' from the Law (God's law, true morality). The Law drives us to faith, where we meet the Spirit of Life. THAT's the answer.
	This is relevant because I have often been called harsh in my preaching of what I believe is the truth. I'm encouraged by others to present a more inviting and accommodating vision of Christianity. And at times I wonder if I'm being too dogmatic. I see preachers and politicians presenting ethics or social visions that appeal to people and promise a bright future. Shouldn't I also lift up a reasonable goal rather than a hopeless ideal that just depresses people? Shouldn't I point to possibilities rather than point out faults? Why not present a new (but realistic) plan rather than condemning the way things are?
	But this all misses the point. Life is not about getting a plan in place that 'works.' Works for what? Life is not about physical survival, maximizing pleasure, or producing offspring. It's about coming to know God, and walking with him. And we will NEVER make progress towards God by following ANY plan or law, no matter how good it is, no matter how well we follow it.
	As Paul says, the rules that we are given are to remind us of our own sinfulness, through our repeated not-keeping of those rules. This leads to repentance and the appeal to God through faith. THAT will help us make progress in our God-relationship. So the rules and laws ARE helpful, only not in the way we expect. And when we do turn to God in faith, we do find guidance. Not the demands of a dead letter, but the living impetus of the Spirit of Love. This will direct our lives, if we continue to be open in faith; and it will fulfill the law through us. Then we WILL act in accordance with the spirit of the Law. But not because of obedience to the letter, rather because Love moves us.
	This all reassures me that some harsh-sounding preaching may not be so far off. I'm not trying to 'sell' a morality or a social plan. I'm not trying to convince others to live in a certain way. I do try to live in a way that I think is loving, and I hope others would be motivated by the same love to act likewise. But any moral preaching I might do is really law-for-convicting, not guidance. Those who are open to the Spirit in the area of concern need no guidance, though I hope they would be encouraged or reinforced in their inner convictions when I speak. But those not open to the Spirit in the area I happen to be addressing can hardly get 'guidance' from my words. I wouldn't WANT them to do what I say just because I say it. If they don't connect with the 'law' I am preaching, hopefully (if I'm speaking the truth) they will be convicted of a hardness of heart in that area and turn, not to me, but to Jesus.
	So sounding harsh or dogmatic is not a problem. It doesn't help the preaching go down easy, but the preaching is not supposed to go down easy. I'm not trying to sell something. I'm not trying to convince people. No one was ever 'convinced' into faith. Affirm, perhaps, or convict--but not convince. And affirming and convicting are better strong. But the most important thing is truthfulness; strong and wrong is no good. (Perhaps because of the menace of falsehoods presented strongly, dogmatically, we shy away from dogmatism. But the problem is falsehood, not dogmatism.) Strong and true is tremendously powerful. Like God's love. Like Jesus.

	10/26
	I found several interesting passages in Chesterton's book, "What's Wrong with the World." He's talking about voting privileges for women, but part of his argument addresses politics and government in general. The first looks like a strong anarchistic argument to me, though Chesterton is certainly no anarchist.

	Seemingly from the dawn of man all nations have had governments; and all 
	nations have been ashamed of them. Nothing is more openly fallacious 
	than to fancy that in ruder or simpler ages ruling, judging and 
	punishing appeared perfectly innocent and dignified. These things were 
	always regarded as the penalties of the Fall; as part of the humiliation 
	of mankind, as bad in themselves. That the king can do no wrong was 
	never anything but a legal fiction; and it is a legal fiction still. 
	...The religious basis of government was not so much that people put 
	their trust in princes, as that they did not put their trust in any 
	child of man. It was so with all the ugly institutions which disfigure 
	human history.

Then this line: "This is the first essential element in government, coercion; a necessary but not a noble element." This could be taken right out of anarchist literature, except for the word 'necessary.' And that's what makes these comments interesting. Because Chesterton is not an anarchist. He believes in government; he believes it's unavoidable. He may call political institutions "ugly," or consider them the result of evil, but he takes them to be NECESSARY evils. That makes his evaluation seem more honest. And I think many people who understand politics and history would agree with him. Even I agree with him, in his critique of "ugly" government; it's the 'necessity' I don't buy. If we could only get rid of the malicious fallacy of 'necessary evil,' maybe we would stop forcing that evil on others.
	As Chesterton continues to describe the 'ugliness' of government, he also considers the unique ugliness of democracy (though he is a strong supporter of democracy, as the 'lesser evil'): 

	All government then is coercive; we happen to have created a government 
	which is not only coercive; but collective. ...in self-governing 
	countries the coercion of criminals is a collective coercion. The 
	abnormal person is theoretically thumped by a million fists and kicked 
	by a million feet. If a man is flogged we all flogged him; if a man is 
	hanged, we all hanged him. That is the only possible meaning of 
	democracy.... In a republic all punishment is as sacred and solemn as 
	lynching.

I've thought about the coercive aspect of democracy before (and Proudhon identified to it long before Chesterton). We usually see democracy as un-coercive, since it is "rule by the people." But the 'people' are not all of one mind. The usual result is 'rule by the majority,' with their decisions being forced upon all others. As Chesterton pointed out, the "abnormal person" is subdued or silenced by the mob--by collective coercion. We take that to be a good thing in the case of wrong-doers; but the same treatment is also given to saints and prophets, who are "abnormal" in the opposite way.
	
	"Voting is not only coercion, but collective coercion."

	Through the process of voting, people in a democracy take responsibility for their own government. This is considered a 'right.' But is government something we want to take responsibility for? Are coercion and lynching what we want to take responsibility for? We allow people to govern themselves rather than having to obey the will of a despot, but then all the people gather together to become despotic. 
	Especially during this election time, I hear and read about 'getting involved,' 'changing the system for the better.' We're supposed to improve things by exercising our voting rights and using the power we've been granted. We're told we can make government better by being a part of it. But I don't see that happening. What I do see is people supporting political candidates they don't really believe in because that candidate is the 'lesser of two evils' or the only one who has a chance to win. I see people manipulated by the media to support someone that those in power have selected (EITHER of the mainstream candidates). I see people being dragged (or enticed) into a very ugly political institution. And they're told it's a right, a privilege, a sacred duty. Ugh. If people want to subject themselves to the coercion of government, fine. If people decide to take part in the governmental coercion of others, that's bad, but worse for themselves. But to try to convince other people to join the mob is the worst. Joining government is not the way to make things better. Being better ourselves, and being a good example for others is the best way. And part of that is to stop trying to push other people around. Stop trying to MAKE THEM be good. Jesus' life was a continual practice of non-coercion--turning the other cheek, not resisting the evil person, enduring death rather than calling down a legion of angels--so that people's hearts might be converted. That's love, that's goodness--not government.

	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... (Mt 20.25-26)

	10/28
	Here's a nice pilgrimage quote from Chesterton's "The Everlasting Man":

	We often hear of Jesus of Nazareth as a wandering teacher, and there is 
	a vital truth in that view in so far as it emphasises an attitude 
	towards luxury and convention which most respectable people would still 
	regard as that of a vagabond. It is expressed in his own great saying 
	about the holes of the foxes and the nests of the birds, and, like many 
	of his great sayings, it is felt as less powerful than it is.... It is 
	well to speak of his wanderings in this sense and in the sense that he 
	shared the drifting life of the most homeless and hopeless of the poor.
	It is assuredly well to remember that he would quite certainly have been 
	moved on by the police and almost certainly arrested by the police for 
	having no visible means of subsistence. For our law has in it a turn of 
	humour or touch of fancy which Nero and Herod never happened to think 
	of, that of actually punishing homeless people for not sleeping at home.

	10/31
	I found a very helpful book called "Christian Anarchy," by Vernard Eller. Much of the first half of the book is almost identical to many of my own thoughts (though I should note that after his discussion of 'zealotism'--see below--I think the book completely loses the power of these thoughts). For example: On the 6th of this month, while studying anarchism, I wrote, "...anarchism is only helpful if it results in, not autonomy, but theonomy. God becomes our ruler." Today I read Eller saying "...for secular anarchists the solution is 'autonomy'--the self being a law unto itself.... For Christian anarchists, the goal of anarchy is 'theonomy'--the rule, the ordering... of God." Eerie.
	The most challenging part, though, comes when he shifts gears to discuss 'zealotism.' By zealotism he seems to mean people who think they are absolutely right about some issue and claim to speak for God. Here's a good (by 'good' I mean challenging) passage:

	...there is reason to believe that, at least in some cases, behind the 
	zealous castigation of a particular sin or sinner lies the castigator's 
	need to buttress his own holiness. He centers in on a selected sin
	(which is not his) in the interests of promoting his own selective 
	righteousness. Such clearly was the case with the scribes and Pharisees 
	whose zealous hatred of immorality had them ready to kill the woman 
	taken in adultery. Plainly, their actual concern was not so much her sin 
	as the promotion of their own righteousness. They were out to use her--
	absolutizing her relative moral defect as a way of simultaneously 
	absolutizing their own (defective) moral righteousness. Zealotism's 
	outlook of "us good guys versus them bad guys"--white-hatted heroes 
	versus black-hatted villains--lends itself to just such grotesquery: the 
	black, black, blacker I can paint my selected enemy, the white, white, 
	more heroic white it leaves me. "I thank God that I am not like other 
	men..." (Luke 18:11).

He also points out several of the serious abuses common among zealots, including (especially) distorting the truth to support their cause and demonizing their opponents. He says zealots are often at fault for not "speaking the TRUTH in LOVE."(Eph 4.15) I want to make a special note of this because I'm sure I've been guilty of these things, and I'm sure I'll be tempted towards them in the future.
	And I do consider myself a 'zealot.' I've been thinking about that a lot recently (see entry on the 24th, concerning dogmatism), struggling with whether such a zealous attitude is EVER justified, and wondering if the abuses and pitfalls can be avoided. I think Eller is absolutely right about the common faults among zealots. But I don't think that's enough to rule out zealotism altogether. There has certainly been many very good 'prophetic' types who's dogmatism was crucial to their preaching. And, speaking of 'prophetic,' what about the prophets? All the Old Testament prophets, plus John the Baptist--if they weren't zealots, I don't know who is. Jesus, also, was the perfect zealot; but of course he DID speak for God, and he WAS always right. And us? No one is always right, but Christ DOES speak through us (his Body) and therefore we DO sometimes speak for God. Through the Spirit of Truth (within us) we DO have access to the TRUTH, the absolute, God-given truth, and we CAN speak it. When God shows us that truth, we SHOULD be (absolutely) zealous for it. Of course, there are people zealous for falsehood, too. But their fault is falsehood--not zealotism.
	What I think we need to remember is that while one truth may suddenly appear clear and bright to us at any one moment, it does not obliterate all the other truth God has shown us. God may move us to condemn capitalism (for example), but that doesn't justify an 'any means necessary' approach to wiping out capitalism. The same God also shows us the truth that force and violence is not the Christian way. The same God also shows us that he (and therefore we) loves sinners, and that we are to treat even our enemies (if it ever comes to that) with love and compassion. And the same God of Truth also shows us that we cannot lead people into the truth by speaking falsely. Thus the same truth that motivates all Godly zealotism also prohibits the common abuses and faults of zealots.
	A zealot who will not acknowledge his own sin is just as rebellious against God as the person he may be challenging. That doesn't make his challenge false; it just means he also is guilty. A holy zealotism must be a zealotism towards MYSELF first. And not myself 'compared to others' (the 'pharisaism' in Eller's passage above)--I must compare myself to Christ. A zealot that is not conscious of his OWN sinfulness is not GOD’S zealot.

	11/1
	A great quote from Vernard Eller's "Christian Anarchy" (here he is paraphrasing Jacques Ellul's "Violence: Reflections from a Christian Perspective"):

	...God has given us Jesus Christ for the very purpose of freeing us from
	all human necessity--the necessities of sin, greed, hard-heartedness, 
	self-centeredness, violence, and what all. What is necessarily necessary 
	within the horizon of human politics becomes totally unnecessary once 
	the God-possibilities are taken into account. Christianly, then, 
	violence is never justified--though Christians can, of course, still 
	recognize the relative political justice and injustice of different wars 
	and conflicts.
	    So... whenever Christians support or participate in violence, what
 	this indicates is that--for at least that moment, in that action--they 
	have had a failure of faith; have not truly trusted in God and his 
	possibilities; have forgotten their freedom in Christ, rather to 
	slide back into the realm of necessity, taking the political limit for 
	the actual limit of reality. For such a lapse--as for any other--there 
	is, of course, forgiveness; yet any Christian capitulation to the 
	necessity of violence is a denial of the freeing work of Jesus Christ 
	and consequently a sin.

I'm only confused as to how this apparently obvious example of holy (right, good) zealotism--this absolute stand against violence--snuck into Eller's book. I can't tell if he really agrees with what Ellul is saying here--but I certainly do!
	----------

	I'm almost finished with Eller's book, and I'm so disappointed. He had such great insights (drawn from Kierkegaard and Barth, among others) and seemed to be driving towards a real message--then it all slipped away. But there was still a lot of good stuff in the book. Eller highlights an excellent passage in Isaiah; I want to remember it: Isaiah 30.1-18. For any who are tempted to collaborate with 'the Great Beast' (See Simone Weil).  

	11/2
	Here's a passage from Jacques Ellul's "Anarchy from a Christian Standpoint." It states well my own beliefs (I've begun using quotes often to communicate my own thoughts--maybe to show I'm not all alone in such crazy thinking!). This passage is great for election-time (coming up in 5 days). Plus, it's interesting because I've been following the current 'third party' efforts of Ralph Nader and the Green party. I think Ellul is right in his analysis:

	If I rule out violent anarchism [and he does], there remains pacifist, 
	antinationalist, anticapitalist, moral, and antidemocratic anarchism 
	(i.e., that which is hostile to the falsified democracy of bourgeois 
	states). There remains the anarchism which acts by means of persuasion, 
	by the creation of small groups and networks, denouncing falsehood and 
	oppression, aiming at a true overturning of authorities of all kinds as 
	people at the bottom speak and organize themselves.... 
	    But there is still the delicate point of participation in elections. 
	Should anarchists vote? If so, should they form a party? For my part, 
	like many anarchists, I think not. To vote is to take part in the 
	organization of the false democracy that has been set up forcefully by 
	the middle class. No matter whether one votes for the left or the right, 
	the situation is the same. Again, to organize a party is necessarily to 
	adopt a hierarchical structure and to wish to have a share in the 
	exercise of power. We must never forget to what degree the holding of 
	political power corrupts.... The political game can produce no important 
	changes in our society and we must radically refuse to take part in it. 
	Society is far too complex. Interests and structures are far too closely 
	integrated into one another. We cannot hope to modify them by the 
	political path.... 
	    But does that mean that we are not to act at all? This is what we 
	constantly hear when we advance a radical thesis. As if the only mode of 
	action were political!

He goes on to describe the 'action' of non-participation (or "conscientious objection") which I also believe in. (And there's always the action of helping our neighbor, works of mercy, etc.)
	Furthermore, when he points out his disagreements with anarchism he expresses some of the same doubts I wrote about last month:

	I am thus very close to one of the forms of anarchism, and I believe 
	that the anarchist fight is a good one. What separates me, then, from 
	the true anarchist? Apart from the religious problem,... I think that 
	the point of division is as follows. The true anarchist thinks that an 
	anarchist society - with no state, no organization, no hierarchy, and no 
	authorities - is possible, livable, and practicable. But I do not. In 
	other words, I believe that the anarchist fight, the struggle for an 
	anarchist society, is essential, but I also think that the realizing of 
	such a society is impossible.

Simply removing oppressive institutions will not make people good. It might give them a chance to be BETTER (without the pressures that encourage them towards consumerism, sex, and violence), but their own sinful desires would remain. Ellul avoids blaming sin, but he says basically the same thing:

	When I say that people are not good,... I am saying that their two great 
	characteristics, no matter what their society or education, are 
	covetousness and the desire for power. We find these traits always and 
	everywhere. If, then, we give people complete freedom to choose, they 
	will inevitably seek to dominate someone or something and they will 
	inevitably covet what belongs to others, and a strange feature of 
	covetousness is that it can never be assuaged or satisfied, for once one 
	thing is acquired it directs its attention to something else. 

So, even if we could rid ourselves of institutions such as government, it wouldn't automatically produce the Garden of Eden, or even 'work' as a society.
	I think this offers some insight into the wisdom of God's providence (which is responsible for 'the way things are'). Plus, let's be realistic: Worldly power structures are not going anywhere. As long as we remain slaves to sin, we will continue to cling to (even NEED) such power structures, so they will remain. 
	But that doesn't mean they are 'necessary' for Christians. Those who have found freedom in Christ--those who have been freed from sin, including covetousness and the desire for power--can also be free from the oppressive institutions of our society. Free people (Christians, hopefully) don't need them. We can 'prophetically' ignore them, just as Jesus did. (Ignore, not rebel; we should submit to those God has allowed to wield power--but like Jesus did: freely, and without legitimizing them.) By non-participation and conscientious objection, we become witnesses against the lies behind such structures while at the same time demonstrating the true freedom that Jesus lived. Of course we'll suffer and be persecuted for taking such a stand, but so did Jesus. And that very suffering will only increase the power (the SPIRITUAL power) of our witness. 

	11/4
	I'm feeling like a word of encouragement is in order. Too much exposure to the 'predicament'--that it seems like the whole world is going in the wrong direction. This passage from 1 Kings (19.9-18) came to mind:

	And there [Elijah] came to a cave, and lodged there; and behold, the 
	word of the LORD came to him, and he said to him, "What are you doing 
	here, Elijah?" He said, "I have been very jealous for the LORD, the God 
	of hosts; for the people of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown 
	down thy altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, even I 
	only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away." And he said, "Go 
	forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD." And behold, the LORD 
	passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke in 
	pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and 
	after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; 
	and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and 
	after the fire a still small voice. And when Elijah heard it, he wrapped 
	his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the 
	cave. And behold, there came a voice to him, and said, "What are you 
	doing here, Elijah?" He said, "I have been very jealous for the LORD, 
	the God of hosts; for the people of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, 
	thrown down thy altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword; and I, 
	even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away." And the 
	LORD said to him, "Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus; 
	and when you arrive, you shall anoint Hazael to be king over Syria; 
	and Jehu the son of Nimshi you shall anoint to be king over Israel; and 
	Elisha the son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah you shall anoint to be prophet 
	in your place. And him who escapes from the sword of Hazael shall Jehu 
	slay; and him who escapes from the sword of Jehu shall Elisha slay. Yet 
	I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed 
	to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him." 

Despite appearances, not everyone has forsaken God's way.
	That leads to the whole 'remnant' theme in the Old Testament. A remnant exists; a scattered few still hold out. Remnant passages appear throughout the prophetic books, but I collected just a few that are especially good. The first is Isaiah 10.20-21. It follows the prophecy about God using Assyria to do his will, then his judgment on them for becoming proud. This passage also highlights our tendency to depend on human power (even when it oppresses us):

	In that day the remnant of Israel and the survivors of the house of 
	Jacob will no more lean upon him that smote them, but will lean upon the 
	LORD, the Holy One of Israel, in truth. A remnant will return, the 
	remnant of Jacob, to the mighty God.

The remnant prophecies are best when they use eschatological language. Here's a great one, also from Isaiah (11.1-2,9-12,16). This is part of the "lion and lamb" prophecy, with the remnant being gathered around the Savior. And I especially like how it talks about a remnant (the "dispersed", the "outcast") scattered throughout the nations. This could be interpreted as prophesying the restoration of the nation of Israel, but the eschatological imagery is heavy. The historical Israel has never been a utopia like these verses describe. I understand 'Israel' here to be the symbol of God's people, his faithful remnant:

	There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch 
	shall grow out of his roots. And the Spirit of the LORD shall rest upon 
	him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and 
	might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD.... They shall
	not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full 
	of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea. In that day 
	the root of Jesse shall stand as an ensign to the peoples; him shall the 
	nations seek, and his dwellings shall be glorious. In that day the Lord 
	will extend his hand yet a second time to recover the remnant which is 
	left of his people, from Assyria, from Egypt, from Pathros, from 
	Ethiopia, from Elam, from Shinar, from Hamath, and from the coastlands 
	of the sea. He will raise an ensign for the nations, and will assemble 
	the outcasts of Israel, and gather the dispersed of Judah from the four 
	corners of the earth.... And there will be a highway from Assyria for 
	the remnant which is left of his people, as there was for Israel 
	when they came up from the land of Egypt.

That last line also recalls the Exodus pilgrimage. And, finally, Jeremiah 23.1-6. This has the 'scattered remnant' idea like the last passage, but it adds an indictment against the leaders, who have "driven them away." Again, the remnant is gathered around the Savior: 

	"Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture!" 
	says the LORD. Therefore thus says the LORD, the God of Israel, 
	concerning the shepherds who care for my people: "You have scattered my 
	flock, and have driven them away, and you have not attended to them. 
	Behold, I will attend to you for your evil doings, says the LORD. Then I 
	will gather the remnant of my flock out of all the countries where I 
	have driven them, and I will bring them back to their fold, and they 
	shall be fruitful and multiply. I will set shepherds over them who will 
	care for them, and they shall fear no more, nor be dismayed, neither 
	shall any be missing, says the LORD. "Behold, the days are coming, says 
	the LORD, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he 
	shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and 
	righteousness in the land. In his days Judah will be saved, and Israel 
	will dwell securely. And this is the name by which he will be called: 
	'The LORD is our righteousness.' 

	There's a recognizable wisdom in God's letting his remnant be scattered among the nations. It spreads out his witnesses, just like the dispersion of the Jews or early Christians (because of persecution) spread their teachings throughout the ancient world. But being spread thin, and not knowing who or how many of the remnant are out there, can lead to feelings of isolation or hopelessness. That's why these promises are so important.
	----------

	I've been reading Christoph Blumhardt, and though it's been pretty uneven (a lot of questionable stuff), I liked this passage so much I thought I'd save it. It goes with the 'remnant' theme. Encouraging, too.
 
	Dear friends, God can help through just a few people and through our 
	hope, which is the Spirit. The Spirit is greater than the whole world. 
	The children of God depend upon the Holy Spirit; and the Holy Spirit 
	enters them and makes of them a dwelling of God so that from just one 
	sighing child of God the entire glory of God can radiate. God does not 
	need to count and say, "Yes, by all means I must have a hundred thousand 
	in the world; otherwise nothing will succeed; if there are only a 
	thousand, then all is lost." Such calculation is not necessary for God. 
	If he has only several--indeed, at present, hardly any--yet through one 
	person he can let such glory radiate that the hope gleams through the 
	whole world. 
	----------

	And here's a few interesting lines from the Encyclopedia Britannica. I stumbled upon them by accident in an article about the Holy Spirit:

	The charismatic wanderer type, who leads a roving life in imitation of 
	Jesus Christ, who "has nowhere to lay his head," was molded through the 
	ideal of "ascetic homelessness." The latter drove Scots-Irish monks, for 
	example, not only through all of Europe but also to the remotest islands 
	of the northern seas and as far as Iceland and Newfoundland. This ideal 
	is still alive today in the Eastern Orthodox Church in the form of the 
	strannik ("wanderer" [in Russian]). 

Not that I want to be a "type"--of anything. But it's nice to know that there have been similar manifestations of the Spirit.

	11/6
	In the quote I recorded on the 1st, this line appears: "What is necessarily necessary within the horizon of human politics becomes totally unnecessary once the God-possibilities are taken into account." I think this has a lot to do with much of our wrong-doing; we think we must do this or that 'necessary evil'--because we don't see the "God-possibilities."
	Further, I'm convinced that it's not just a matter of teaching the "God-possibilities." Only the Spirit can show them to us. That brings in the whole idea of Spirit as Teacher. These verses, John 7.38-39, reminded me of it this morning: 

	He who believes in me, as the scripture has said, "Out of his heart 
	shall flow rivers of living water." Now this he said about the Spirit, 
	which those who believed in him were to receive...

That's not very explicit; other verses address Spirit-teaching more directly. For example, Jn 14.26: "...the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you." Then these two:

	The anointing which you received from him abides in you, and you have no 
	need that any one should teach you; as his anointing teaches you about 
	everything, and is true, and is no lie, just as it has taught you, abide 
	in him. (1 Jn 2.27)

	This is the covenant which I will make with the house of Israel after 
	those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will 
	write it upon their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be
	my people. And no longer shall each man teach his brother, saying, 'Know 
	the Lord,' for they shall all know me, from the least to the greatest, 
	says the Lord... (Jer 31.33-34; also quoted in Heb 8)

These seem to lead directly to the conclusion that the knowledge/understanding that God promises is not something we teach each other, but something God's Spirit teaches us. I wrote a paper on that once, based on Kierkegaard's "Philosophical Fragments." What we can (should) do for each other is not impart the right information--doctrine, ethics, political theory--but help each other listen to the Spirit. I would call that 'being a witness.' Maybe like Socrates used to do: not give the truth to students, but help them recognize the truth they already have.
	 This contradicts most methods of evangelism and Christian teaching. We're told we have to 'get the word out'; Christian teachers constantly bombard people with sermons and pamphlets. One of the first verses cited to justify such teaching is Romans 10.14: "...how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without a preacher?" Unfortunately, Paul's answer to his own question, v.18, is usually overlooked: "But I ask, have they not heard? Indeed they have; for 'Their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world.'"(quoting Ps 19.4) Plus, earlier in Romans, Paul made a similar statement (here referring to all people, not just the Jews): 

	What can be known about God is plain to them, because God has shown it
	to them. Ever since the creation of the world his invisible nature, 
	namely, his eternal power and deity, has been clearly perceived in the 
	things that have been made. So they are without excuse..." (Rom 1.19-20)

This has been interpreted in various ways, but I believe it refers to the work of the Spirit, trying to show people the truth of God in nature. And, however it is interpreted, it seems clear that there is another teacher at work besides the human evangelist. As Paul's writes to the Corinthians: 

	Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which 
	is from God, that we might understand the gifts bestowed on us by God. 
	And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the 
	Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who possess the Spirit. 
	(1 Cor 2.12-13)

	The question is: How do we best participate in the work of the Spirit as Teacher? How do we witness in the world? That's not answered by these verses. But they do seem to make it clear that 'information promulgation' is not our big project. It's not our job to make as many people as possible 'get it.' The Spirit can teach EVERYTHING in an instant, if the person is open in faith. And the Spirit is not limited by time or space. If we're to help, we need synergy with the Spirit, we need to be living by the Spirit's guiding, so that others can see the reality of the Spirit IN US. To help others, WE need to live by faith. THAT'S witness.
	This reminds me of what I wrote on Oct 24th, about the law and repentance. One thing teaching and information CAN do is identify the falsehood in our lives. That's not the same thing as giving life or showing the things of God, but (accompanied by witness/example) it may help someone towards repentance and faith--faith not in the human teacher, but in the Spirit of God. And that CAN give life.

	11/7
	I thought it would be appropriate to mark election day with this brief survey of religious (primarily Christian) anarchism. I'm not sure who compiled it, but I don't think they were religious themselves. And it's not comprehensive. It does hit the high points, however, and it appears to be accurate (from what I know about Taoism, Zen, Ellul, Tolstoy, and Dorothy Day). I only wish it said more about the Anabaptists and their descendants (Mennonites, Amish, etc.). For hundreds of years, many in that tradition have held (and still live by) several of the Christian beliefs that can be considered anarchistic. 

Are there religious anarchists?

    Yes, there are. Like all anarchists, these religious anarchists have combined an opposition to the state with a critical position with regards to private property and inequality. In other words, anarchism is not necessarily atheistic. Indeed, according to Jacques Ellul, "biblical thought leads directly to anarchism, and that this is the only 'political anti-political' position in accord with Christian thinkers." [quoted by Peter Marshall, Demanding the Impossible, p. 75] 
    There are many different types of anarchism inspired by religious ideas. As Peter Marshall notes, the "first clear expression of an anarchist sensibility may be traced back to the Taoists in ancient China from about the sixth century BC" and "Buddhism, particularly in its Zen form,... has... a strong libertarian spirit." [Op. Cit., p. 53, p. 65] Some combine their anarchist ideas with Pagan and Spiritualist influences. However, religious anarchism usually takes the form of Christian Anarchism, which we will concentrate on here. 
    Christian Anarchists take seriously Jesus' words to his followers that "kings and governors have domination over men; let there be none like that among you." Similarly, Paul's dictum that there "is no authority except God" is taken to its obvious conclusion with the denial of state authority within society. Thus, for a true Christian, the state is usurping God's authority and it is up to each individual to govern themselves and discover that (to use the title of Tolstoy's famous book) the Kingdom of God Is Within You. 
    Similarly, the voluntary poverty of Jesus, his comments on the corrupting effects of wealth and the Biblical claim that the world was created for humanity to be enjoyed in common have all been taken as the basis of a socialistic critique of private property and capitalism. Indeed, the early Christian church (which could be considered as a liberation movement of slaves, although one that was later co-opted into a state religion) was based upon communistic sharing of material goods, a theme which has continually appeared within radical Christian movements (indeed, the Bible would have been used to express radical libertarian aspirations of the oppressed, which, in later times, would have taken the form of anarchist or Marxist terminology). Thus clergyman's John Ball's egalitarian comments during the Peasant Revolt in 1381 in England: 
	When Adam delved and Eve span,
	Who was then a gentleman?
The history of Christian anarchism includes the Heresy of the Free Spirit in the Middle Ages, numerous Peasant revolts and the Anabaptists in the 16th century. The libertarian tradition within Christianity surfaced again in the 18th century in the writings of William Blake and the American Adam Ballou reached anarchist conclusions in his Practical Christian Socialism in 1854. However, Christian anarchism became a clearly defined thread of the anarchist movement with the work of the famous Russian author Leo Tolstoy. 
    Tolstoy took the message of the Bible seriously and came to consider that a true Christian must oppose the state. From his reading of the Bible, Tolstoy drew anarchist conclusions: 
	...ruling means using force, and using force means doing to him on whom 
	force is used, what he does not like and what he who uses force would 
	certainly not like done to himself. Consequently ruling means doing to 
	others what we would not they should do unto us, that is, doing wrong. 
	[The Kingdom of God is Within You, p. 242] 
Thus a true Christian must refrain from governing others. From this anti-statist position he naturally argued in favor of a society self-organized from below: "Why think that non-official people could not arrange their life for themselves, as well as Government people can arrange it not for themselves but for others?" [The Anarchist Reader, p. 306] Tolstoy urged non-violent action against oppression, seeing a spiritual transformation of individuals as the key to creating an anarchist society. As Max Nettlau argues, the "great truth stressed by Tolstoy is that the recognition of the power of the good, of goodness, of solidarity--and of all that is called love--lies within ourselves, and that it can and must be awakened, developed and exercised in our own behavior." [A Short History of Anarchism, pp.251-2] 
    Like all anarchists, Tolstoy was critical of private property and capitalism. Like Henry George (whose ideas, like those of Proudhon, had a strong impact on him) he opposed private property in land, arguing that "were it not for the defense of landed property, and its consequent rise in price, people would not be crowded into such narrow spaces, but would scatter over the free land of which there is still so much in the world." Moreover, "in this struggle [for landed property] it is not those who work in the land, but always those who take part in government violence, who have the advantage." [Op. Cit., p. 307] Thus Tolstoy recognized that property rights in anything beyond use require state violence to protect them (possession is "always protected by custom, public opinion, by feelings of justice and reciprocity, and they do not need to be protected by violence." [Ibid.]). Indeed, he argues that: 
	Tens of thousands of acres of forest lands belonging to one proprietor
	--while thousands of people close by have no fuel--need protection by 
	violence. So, too, do factories and works where several generations of 
	workmen have been defrauded and are still being defrauded. Yet more do 
	the hundreds of thousands of bushels of grain, belonging to one owner, 
	who has held them back to sell at triple price in time of famine." [Ibid.] 
Tolstoy argued that capitalism morally and physically ruined individuals and that capitalists were "slave-drivers." He considered it impossible for a true Christian to be a capitalist, for a "manufacturer is a man whose income consists of value squeezed out of the workers, and whose whole occupation is based on forced, unnatural labor" and therefore, "he must first give up ruining human lives for his own profit." [The Kingdom Of God is Within You, p. 338, p. 339] Unsurprisingly, Tolstoy argued that co-operatives were the "only social activity which a moral, self-respecting person who doesn't want to be a party of violence can take part in." [quoted by Peter Marshall, Op. Cit., p. 378] 
    From his opposition to violence, Tolstoy rejects both state and private property and urged pacifist tactics to end violence within society and create a just society. In Nettlau's words, he "asserted... resistance through disobedience, the passive force." [Op. Cit., p. 251] In his ideas of a free society, Tolstoy was clearly influenced by rural Russian life and the works of Peter Kropotkin (such as Fields, Factories and Workshops), P-J Proudhon and the non-anarchist Henry George. 
    Tolstoy's ideas had a strong influence on Gandhi, who inspired his fellow country people to use non-violent resistance to kick Britain out of India. Moreover, Gandhi's vision of a free India as a federation of peasant communes is similar to Tolstoy's anarchist vision of a free society (although we must stress that Gandhi was not an anarchist). The Catholic Worker Group in the United States was also heavily influenced by Tolstoy (and Proudhon), as was Dorothy Day a staunch Christian pacifist and anarchist who founded the paper the Catholic Worker in 1933.

	I would only add that Christianity is certainly not a servant of anarchist theory; Jesus did not come to teach anarchism. Rather, Jesus bore witness to the truth. He WAS the truth before people even came up with the term "anarchism." But that label has come to be associated with some major aspects of the truth. And, over the centuries, many Christians--those who have accepted these aspects of Jesus’ life and teaching--have been comfortable with that label.

	11/8
	Woe is me! For I have become like one who, after the summer fruit has 
	been gathered, after the vintage has been gleaned, finds no cluster to 
	eat; there is no first-ripe fig for which I hunger. The faithful have 
	disappeared from the land, and there is no one left who is upright; they 
	all lie in wait for blood, and they hunt each other with nets. Their 
	hands are skilled to do evil; the official and the judge ask for a 
	bribe, and the powerful dictate what they desire; thus they pervert 
	justice. The best of them is like a brier, the most upright of them a 
	thorn hedge. The day of their sentinels, of their punishment, has come; 
	now their confusion is at hand. Put no trust in a friend, have no 
	confidence in a loved one; guard the doors of your mouth from her who 
	lies in your embrace; for the son treats the father with contempt, the 
	daughter rises up against her mother, the daughter-in-law against her 
	mother-in-law; your enemies are members of your own household. But as 
	for me, I will look to the Lord, I will wait for the God of my 
	salvation; my God will hear me. (Micah 7.1-7)

	11/9
	The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to 
	an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. "The 
	Lord is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in him." The 
	Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul that seeks him. It 
	is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. It 
	is good for one to bear the yoke in youth, to sit alone in silence when 
	the Lord has imposed it... (Lam 3.22-28)
	
	The passages yesterday and today touch on the theme of 'waiting for the Lord' (reminds me of Simone Weil's "Waiting On God"; plus it takes me back to my Oct 21st journal entry). I especially like the Lamentations one today.
	Both passages (but especially Micah) highlight the frustration of waiting in the midst of injustice and oppression. Here are some more:  

	But I am like the deaf, I do not hear; like the mute, who cannot speak. 
	Truly, I am like one who does not hear, and in whose mouth is no retort. 
	But it is for you, O Lord, that I wait; it is you, O Lord my God, who 
	will answer. (Ps 38.13-15)

	Be still before the Lord, and wait patiently for him; do not fret over 
	those who prosper in their way, over those who carry out evil devices. 
	Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath. Do not fret--it leads only to 
	evil. For the wicked shall be cut off, but those who wait for the Lord 
	shall inherit the land. (Ps 37.7-9)

It is to this frustration that promises of retribution speak so strongly:

	Therefore wait for me, says the Lord, for the day when I arise as a 
	witness. For my decision is to gather nations, to assemble kingdoms, to 
	pour out upon them my indignation, all the heat of my anger; for in the 
	fire of my passion all the earth shall be consumed. (Zeph 3.8)

	It is difficult to wait in frustration (and suffering). The heart yearns for justice and the establishment of righteousness:

	I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope; my soul 
	waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning, more than 
	those who watch for the morning. (Ps 130.5-6)

	The way of the righteous is level; O Just One, you make smooth the path 
	of the righteous. In the path of your judgments, O Lord, we wait for 
	you; your name and your renown are the soul's desire. My soul yearns for 
	you in the night, my spirit within me earnestly seeks you. For when your 
	judgments are in the earth, the inhabitants of the world learn 
	righteousness. (Is 26.7-9)

But this yearning must not lead to an impatience that causes us to resort to methods that are not God's way. Psalm 37 said, "Refrain from anger, and forsake wrath." And in Proverbs (20.22): "Do not say, 'I will repay evil'; wait for the Lord, and he will help you." I think this especially challenges much of the politics and activism today that calls itself "Christian." Ends cannot justify means. Waiting for God must be pure.

	May integrity and uprightness preserve me, 
		for I wait for you. (Ps 25.21)

	I identify this waiting as an act of love. Waiting on God requires faith, but the strength and purity required comes from the power of love. Jesus' greatest act of love was his ENDURANCE--his bearing all for us. And Paul describes love in a way that fits well with the image of waiting, enduring: "It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends..." (1 Cor 13.7-8). 
	I'll close with these words of encouragement:

	Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage;
		wait for the Lord! (Ps 27:14) 

	Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; 
	but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall 
	mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they 
	shall walk and not faint. (Is 40.30-31)

	For the Lord is a God of justice;
	blessed are all those who wait for him. (Is 30.18, see entry on the 1st)
	----------

	Why is 'waiting for the Lord' so important to me right now? Well, it fits perfectly with a belief in non-coercion and conscientious objection. And it's a great theme for pilgrimage, in which you wait for food, shelter, rides, etc. But I'm not waiting in that respect right now. I'm not suffering want or oppression. But I do feel frustrated and silenced because it seems that no one will 'hear' what I have to say. I feel like I must "sit alone in silence"--silently filling this journal. I could preach, but who would listen? When I do speak, people reject or do not understand; and behavior such as the politics of this election make it seem like most people are miles away from even beginning to understand. Because to understand would mean changing everything. These words of Jesus, from the Gospel of John (8.43,47), reminded me of the feeling this morning:

	Why do you not understand what I say? It is because you cannot bear to 
	hear my word.... He who is of God hears the words of God; the reason why 
	you do not hear them is that you are not of God.

This is not so much a condemnation as it is a cry of frustration and sadness. In the midst of this, the passages of the last few days--about a 'remnant' and the work of the 'Spirit as Teacher' and 'waiting for God'--are great comforts.

	11/13
	While still knocking around the idea of 'waiting for the Lord,' I discovered this passage in Dostoyevsky's "Notes from the Underground":

	As though of design I used to get into trouble in cases when I was not 
	to blame in any way. That was the nastiest part of it.  At the same time 
	I was genuinely touched and penitent, I used to shed tears and, of 	
	course, deceived myself, though I was not acting in the least and there 
	was a sick feeling in my heart at the time. ...It is loathsome to 
	remember it all, but it was loathsome even then. Of course, a minute or 
	so later I would realize wrathfully that it was all a lie, a revolting 
	lie, an affected lie, that is, all this penitence, this emotion, these 
	vows of reform. You will ask why did I worry myself with such antics: 
	answer, because it was very dull to sit with one's hands folded, and so 
	one began cutting capers. That is really it. Observe yourselves more 
	carefully, gentlemen, then you will understand that it is so. I invented 
	adventures for myself and made up a life, so as at least to live in some 
	way. How many times it has happened to me--well, for instance, to take 
	offense simply on purpose, for nothing; and one knows oneself, of 
	course, that one is offended at nothing; that one is putting it on, but 
	yet one brings oneself at last to the point of being really offended. 
	All my life I have had an impulse to play such pranks, so that in the 
	end I could not control it in myself. Another time, twice, in fact, I 
	tried hard to be in love. I suffered, too, gentlemen, I assure you. In 
	the depth of my heart there was no faith in my suffering, only a faint 
	stir of mockery, but yet I did suffer, and in the real, orthodox way; I 
	was jealous, beside myself... and it was all from ENNUI, gentlemen, all 
	from ENNUI; inertia overcame me. You know the direct, legitimate fruit 
	of consciousness is inertia, that is, conscious sitting-with-the-hands-
	folded.

What he refers to here as ennui and inertia could also be called boredom. And he does use the term 'boredom' later in the story: "Of course boredom may lead you to anything. It is boredom sets one sticking golden pins into people..." (a reference to his earlier observation that "Cleopatra was fond of sticking gold pins into her slave-girls' breasts and derived gratification from their screams and writhings.") Another name for all this is idleness--or, as Dostoyevsky puts it, "the fatal idleness, which, as we all know, is the mother of all the vices."
	Together, these present an extravagant claim. Boredom is usually seen as a minor annoyance, a pesky problem that reoccurs every so often, but nothing serious. Like a cold. Or it's only a problem for some: emperors like Cleopatra or Nero, or writers like Dostoyevsky. But I think Dostoyevsky sees how serious and common boredom really is. I think it breaks up marriages, makes school and work excruciating for many, and torments the elderly, the sick, the poor, and the prisoner. I think it sends us running into all kinds of trouble, just to get some action, just to be distracted for a moment. Pascal wrote in his Pensees that most people spend almost all their time distracting themselves. Why? Because they fear boredom.
	We often think it would be heaven to get a break from everything, to get some free time, to not have to do ANYthing. That's what many people look forward to in retirement. But most find that retirement's not as easy as they thought it would be. I read an article the other day about older people who go back to work, often in menial positions, often when they don't even need the money--just for something to do. They're BORED. And it's not a minor annoyance, it's torment. This doesn't just apply for the elderly--Dostoyevsky described it well as a younger man--but it's more pronounced in older people, and they have a harder time avoiding it. I've seen very old people sitting in hospital beds for weeks, months, just waiting to die, almost begging for it. Not because they are in any great physical pain, but simply because there's nothing more for them to do. Either their body won't work, or their friends are all gone, or they've lost interest because they know there's no future left for them. "Why am I still here?" they ask. Life has become a torturous boredom. They're scared of it, and they can't get away. I think the rest of us are scared of it too, only we can find ways to distract ourselves--for awhile.
	I'm fascinated with this idea right now for several reasons. First, I'm sitting in a huge retirement community in the middle of THE retirement state. Not to mention that the challenges of aging await us all. I watched my grandma fade, and I worked in hospices and nursing homes for over a year, asking why? What is the lesson in the isolation (and boredom) of aging? People around here would have you think that end-of-life boredom can be avoided by a well-orchestrated daily event schedule in an exciting "adult living" facility. But I'm not buying it. Maybe people can stay distracted for most of their retirement years, but eventually they get shipped to the NURSING HOME (cue the ominous music)--then what?
	Second, I have lots of free time right now, so I'm struggling with boredom myself. Actually, I've been in situations like this several times, much more than I expected this early in my life. There was the summer off after I joined the Navy; then the months waiting in Norfolk for the Navy to release me. Soon after that, there was the year and a half in Chicago, living on my savings. And now this six months. All times of no big responsibility, which is great for reading, reflection, and philosophizing (and I think I made good use of those times in that regard). But each time I struggled with boredom. I didn't have to wait for retirement.
	And third, I see that my insistence on anarchistic non-participation and pacifistic non-resistance does eliminate many of the distractions in life, and may lead us face-to-face with boredom. I don't think I've recommended quietism, but certainly less 'action' than most people are used to. A simpler life, definitely. And if we don't go along with business practices and the political games, we will be pushed out of a lot of society's action. Into poverty and exile, which can be pretty lonely and boring. We'll still need to attend to our bodily needs, and we should help others get what they need. But, in this mechanized age, getting daily bread doesn't take a whole lot of actual work (anarchists have been saying that for 100 years now). And while the truth of Christ needs to be preached more than ever, there's not many who are willing to listen to a truth that demands so much of them. Which all leads to the possibility of much more free time than we're used to.
	And I think that's a good thing. Not because free time is easy; I think it's hard. Boredom can be terrifying. But I think we're destined to face it, sooner or later--I think God wants us to face it. It's what makes 'waiting for the Lord' so hard, and so important.

	11/15
	At the heart of our fear of boredom is a fear of nothingness. We dread the emptiness of time. Because with no distraction, we become conscious of ourselves AS IS, not in relation to other things but isolated, alone. Or rather in relation to God, from whom we are never isolated. This results in a consciousness of sin, guilt, negation. But that could all be collected under the heading of nothingness. And our fear of nothingness is fundamental--the fear of death.
	I think the fear of death and the pride of life are synonymous. Many have said fear is our primary motivator, while others insist that pride drives us. But they're the same. To take pride in my own existence is also to fear the loss of that existence--pride immediately turns to fear once the source of pride is threatened. And nothingness constantly threatens the source of our pride.
	I see the struggle against nothingness becoming obvious in several ways. First is the basic struggle for physical survival. But this struggle doesn't stop at "daily bread"--it continues into the quest for security and material wealth and power. The clutching of physical reality to convince ourselves that we are something and will continue to exist as something. Second, the struggle for fame and political power. We attempt to become something real in the minds of other people--the more, the better. With this is all identities based on role, profession, hierarchy, etc. And third is what I've been writing about in relation to boredom: the struggle to fill time with activity. If we can just keep moving, building, theorizing, then we're convinced that we're something. We try to carve out a place for ourselves in the material world, in people's minds, and in time. If we're taking up 'space' then we must be something.
	We struggle against nothingness feverishly (pridefully or fearfully, it's all the same) because nothingness is death. To be hungry, poor, ignored, forgotten, lonely, bored is to be threatened at the core of our being. Such experiences question our very existence. It's not just the physical discomfort; it's the threat of death. So we try to establish ourselves in things, in people, and in time--yet these all disappear just as we do. It's a futile struggle, really, but I suppose it does keep us occupied and distracts us from facing our fear directly. And that's generally enough. Because we cannot face our fear directly; we simply cannot face death.
	[What about suicides, or those who wish for death but cannot carry it out? I think they are a good example of what I am saying rather than an exception. Such people perhaps come closest to EXPERIENCING nothingness. What they plead for is not death (as I have been using the term) but the END of their living death, the end of their conscious experience of nothingness. To face death is to live with it, to be conscious of the overwhelming evidence that we are nothing. And this we cannot do.]
	By ourselves, that is. We cannot, by our own power, face death and live. We can, however, be resurrected through faith, by the power of God's love. Faith is the death of self in which we face our own nothingness, only to be raised by God's free and loving affirmation of our somethingness. This is a somethingness not carved out of crumbling stone or fading time, but an absolute value granted by God. Only God creates, and this is God's re-creation of us. Our second birth.
	Thus (back to the issue of boredom) waiting for the Lord is the response of faith in time. Though the emptiness of time may feel threatening, even as threatening as death, faith can wait--through the affirmation of God's love. This seems to be the essence of the heroism of monks in contemplation. The ability to wait for the Lord in the desert of emptiness, nothingness. But this exercise of faith is not just for the cloister. Wherever the emptiness of time threatens, faith must cling to God's love. And wait for the Lord.

	11/17
	I've been reading "The Varieties of Religious Experience," by William James (I'm also a fan of his brother Henry's fiction). In the following LONG excerpt, James describes the 'social usefulness' of "the saints," those who clearly show the fruits of religious conversion. It's pretty long, and about 100 years old, but it's so good--I couldn't possibly say it better. I especially like how the contribution is presented as almost entirely INSPIRATIONAL. No great physical or intellectual abilities are required. And there's no need for great financial resources, either (which is good, considering that poverty often accompanies sainthood). 

"The saints... may, with their extravagances of human tenderness, be prophetic. Nay, innumerable times they have proved themselves prophetic. Treating those whom they met, in spite of the past, in spite of all appearances, as worthy, they have stimulated them to BE worthy, miraculously transformed them by their radiant example and by the challenge of their expectation.
    "From this point of view we may admit the human charity which we find in all saints, and the great excess of it which we find in some saints, to be a genuinely creative social force, tending to make real a degree of virtue which it alone is ready to assume as possible. The saints are authors, auctores, increasers, of goodness. The potentialities of development in human souls are unfathomable. So many who seemed irretrievably hardened have in point of fact been softened, converted, regenerated, in ways that amazed the subjects even more than they surprised the spectators, that we never can be sure in advance of any man that his salvation by the way of love is hopeless. ...The saints, with their extravagance of human tenderness, are the great torch-bearers of this belief, the tip of the wedge, the clearers of the darkness. Like the single drops which sparkle in the sun as they are flung far ahead of the advancing edge of a wave-crest or of a flood, they show the way and are forerunners. The world is not yet with them, so they often seem in the midst of the world's affairs to be preposterous. Yet they are impregnators of the world, vivifiers and animaters of potentialities of goodness which but for them would lie forever dormant. It is not possible to be quite as mean as we naturally are, when they have passed before us. One fire kindles another; and without that over-trust in human worth which they show, the rest of us would lie in spiritual stagnancy.
    "Momentarily considered, then, the saint may waste his tenderness and be the dupe and victim of his charitable fever, but the general function of his charity in social evolution is vital and essential. If things are ever to move upward, some one must be ready to take the first step, and assume the risk of it. No one who is not willing to try charity, to try non-resistance as the saint is always willing, can tell whether these methods will or will not succeed. When they do succeed, they are far more powerfully successful than force or worldly prudence. Force destroys enemies; and the best that can be said of prudence is that it keeps what we already have in safety. But non-resistance, when successful, turns enemies into friends; and charity regenerates its objects. These saintly methods are, as I said, creative energies; and genuine saints find in the elevated excitement with which their faith endows them an authority and impressiveness which makes them irresistible in situations where men of shallower nature cannot get on at all without the use of worldly prudence. This practical proof that worldly wisdom may be safely transcended is the saint's magic gift to mankind. Not only does his vision of a better world console us for the generally prevailing prose and barrenness; but even when on the whole we have to confess him ill adapted, he makes some converts, and the environment gets better for his ministry. He is an effective ferment of goodness, a slow transmuter of the earthly into a more heavenly order."

And I include the next paragraph only because I find its comparison between sainthood and socialism/anarchism interesting: 

	In this respect the Utopian dreams of social justice in which many 
	contemporary socialists and anarchists indulge are, in spite of their 
	impracticability and non-adaptation to present environmental conditions, 
	analogous to the saint's belief in an existent kingdom of heaven. They 
	help to break the edge of the general reign of hardness and are slow 
	leavens of a better order.
	----------

	And then there's this, in praise of voluntary poverty:

	We have grown literally afraid to be poor. We despise any one who elects 
	to be poor in order to simplify and save his inner life. If he does not 
	join the general scramble and pant with the money-making street, we deem 
	him spiritless and lacking in ambition. We have lost the power even of 
	imagining what the ancient idealization of poverty could have meant: the 
	liberation from material attachments, the unbribed soul, the manlier 
	indifference, the paying our way by what we are or do and not by what we 
	have, the right to fling away our life at any moment irresponsibly--the 
	more athletic trim, in short, the moral fighting shape.  

The only thing I would add--and this connects with 'social usefulness'--is that voluntary poverty makes more resources available to meet the needs of others. If each used less, how much more would be available for all! James concludes his thoughts on poverty with this exclamation point:

	I recommend this matter to your serious pondering, for it is certain 
	that the prevalent fear of poverty among the educated classes is the 
	worst moral disease from which our civilization suffers.

	11/19
	Again from "The Varieties of Religious Experience":
	
	If we except the class of preeminent saints of whom the names illumine 
	history, and consider only the usual run of "saints," the shopkeeping
	church-members and ordinary youthful or middle-aged recipients of 
	instantaneous conversion, whether at revivals or in the spontaneous 
	course of methodistic growth, you will probably agree that no splendor 
	worthy of a wholly supernatural creature fulgurates from them, or sets 
	them apart from the mortals who have never experienced that favor. Were 
	it true that a suddenly converted man as such is, as Edwards says, of an 
	entirely different kind from a natural man, partaking as he does 
	directly of Christ's substance, there surely ought to be some exquisite
	class-mark, some distinctive radiance attaching even to the lowliest 
	specimen of this genus, to which no one of us could remain insensible, 
	and which, so far as it went, would prove him more excellent than ever 
	the most highly gifted among mere natural men. But notoriously there is 
	no such radiance. Converted men as a class are indistinguishable from 
	natural men; some natural men even excel some converted men in their 
	fruits...
	    The believers in the non-natural character of sudden conversion have
	had practically to admit that there is no unmistakable class-mark 
	distinctive of all true converts. The super-normal incidents, such as 
	voices and visions and overpowering impressions of the meaning of 
	suddenly presented scripture texts, the melting emotions and tumultuous 
	affections connected with the crisis of change, may all come by way of 
	nature, or worse still, be counterfeited by Satan. The real witness of 
	the spirit to the second birth is to be found only in the disposition of 
	the genuine child of God, the permanently patient heart, the love of
	self eradicated.  And this, it has to be admitted, is also found in 
	those who pass no crisis, and may even be found outside of Christianity 
	altogether.

	James, a leader of philosophical Pragmatism, takes a practical approach in his analysis of religious experience. And I think his approach generally steers him to the right conclusions. He lists many and various experiences, from voices to visions to miraculous 'coincidences.' And he doesn't deny them. Rather, he asks "What is the effect of these experiences?" So the test of religious experience becomes, not its intensity or 'realness,' but how the person is changed for the better. A description of a dramatic conversion means little if the fruit of conversion is not apparent in the person. This is the same means of discernment that most religions apply. The person who is close to God is not the one who hears many heavenly voices, but the one who lives a life demonstrating God's love.
	In the "saints," the fruits of conversion/experience are obvious. James describes some of the fruits in the passages I quoted on the 17th, plus there are people of outstanding virtue in all religions (interestingly, the lives of these people are strikingly similar in many respects). And above all, the life of Jesus demonstrates what the fruits of a divine life are. But most people who are called "religious" do not demonstrate such fruit. Instead of the saint-like effects of virtue, such as self-sacrifice, non-resistance, and giving freely, the usual 'effects' of religious experience are more hidden and personal. Religion is seen as providing personal comfort, stress-relief, and a meaningful framework by which life can be understood. This is how I've seen religion 'peddled' in most churches (also hospitals, nursing homes, prisons--in most institutions generally). And this appeals to the person who looks to religion for that extra measure of peace and meaning that they'd like add to 'my life.' James accepts this, and thus concludes that any form of religion that can offer this to the individual should be honored. Such 'personal religion' is useful (for the individual) and should not be challenged (according to James). This view is still very prevalent: "My religion is my personal business, God's special gift to help me live my life, and no one should be making universal religious claims about MY experience."
	There are, however, two important points at which 'personal religion' is challenged legitimately. The first is the challenge of people, based on JUSTICE. Your religion may be personal, but your actions are public. What you do affects the people around you and society in general, and people WILL challenge your unjust actions, even if those actions are 'religiously' motivated. If your actions are hurting others, they SHOULD be challenged (this is the basis for the anarchist critique of society). And second, and more importantly, is the challenge of God. If it is true, as most religions profess, that God doesn't simply mean to make our lives a little easier, but actually calls us to do his will, then 'personal religion' is false religion. If God is saying "follow me" and we simply thank him for the 'experience' and continue on pursuing our own ambitions, then our 'religion' is a delusional avoidance of God's call. And God WILL challenge us on that. 
	All 'religions' are not equal to these challenges. Certainly 'personal religion' (no matter what flavor) is seen to be false. It is self-deception--"bad faith" in Sartre's words, "the opiate of the masses." It's what's condemned by the words of the epistle of James: "Faith without works is dead." The only religion that deserves the name is the religion of the "saints," which demonstrates the knowledge of God through a life of love. Such a life stands out in the world ("in the world but not of the world"). And such a life is prophetic, not only as an inspiration, but as a challenge--urging all to act justly and answer the call of God.
	----------

	And I have to include this passage (though James didn't seem to be inspired by it). This is very close to the spirit I embraced in pilgrimage, at least concerning Providence and "daily bread". And this example also shows how it might work on a larger scale:

"...as a concrete example of an extreme sort, of the way in which the prayerful life may still be led, let me take a case with which most of you must be acquainted, that of George Muller of Bristol, who died in 1898. ...Early in life he resolved on taking certain Bible promises in literal sincerity, and on letting himself be fed, not by his own worldly foresight, but by the Lord's hand. He had an extraordinarily active and successful career, among the fruits of which were the distribution of over two million copies of the Scripture text, in different languages; the equipment of several hundred missionaries; the circulation of more than a hundred and eleven million of scriptural books, pamphlets, and tracts; the building of five large orphanages, and the keeping and educating of thousands of orphans; finally, the establishment of schools in which over a hundred and twenty-one thousand youthful and adult pupils were taught. In the course of this work Mr. Muller received and administered nearly a million and a half of pounds sterling, and traveled over two hundred thousand miles of sea and land. During the sixty-eight years of his ministry, he never owned any property except his clothes and furniture, and cash in hand; and he left, at the age of eighty-six, an estate worth only a hundred and sixty pounds. His method was to let his general wants be publicly known, but not to acquaint other people with the details of his temporary necessities. For the relief of the latter, he prayed directly to the Lord, believing that sooner or later prayers are always answered if one have trust enough. 
    "The articles needed... were the food, fuel, etc., of his orphanages. Somehow, near as they often come to going without a meal, they hardly ever seem actually to have done so. 'Greater and more manifest nearness of the Lord's presence I have never had than when after breakfast there were no means for dinner for more than a hundred persons; or when after dinner there were no means for the tea, and yet the Lord provided the tea; and all this without one single human being having been informed about our need.... Through Grace my mind is so fully assured of the faithfulness of the Lord, that in the midst of the greatest need, I am enabled in peace to go about my other work. Indeed, did not the Lord give me this, which is the result of trusting in him, I should scarcely be able to work at all; for it is now comparatively a rare thing that a day comes when I am not in need for one or another part of the work.'
    "In building his orphanages simply by prayer and faith, Muller affirms that his prime motive was 'to have something to point to as a visible proof that our God and Father is the same faithful God that he ever was--as willing as ever to prove himself the living God, in our day as formerly, to all that put their trust in him.' For this reason he refused to borrow money for any of his enterprises. 'How does it work when we thus anticipate God by going our own way? We certainly weaken faith instead of increasing it; and each time we work thus a deliverance of our own we find it more and more difficult to trust in God, till at last we give way entirely to our natural fallen reason and unbelief prevails. How different if one is enabled to wait God's own time, and to look alone to him for help and deliverance! When at last help comes, after many seasons of prayer it may be, how sweet it is, and what a present recompense! Dear Christian reader, if you have never walked in this path of obedience before, do so now, and you will then know experimentally the sweetness of the joy which results from it.'
    "When the supplies came in but slowly, Muller always considered that this was for the trial of his faith and patience. When his faith and patience had been sufficiently tried, the Lord would send more means. 'And thus it has proved,'--I quote from his diary--'for to-day was given me the sum of 2050 pounds, of which 2000 are for the building fund [of a certain house], and 50 for present necessities. It is impossible to describe my joy in God when I received this donation. I was neither excited nor surprised; for I LOOK out for answers to my prayers. I BELIEVE THAT GOD HEARS ME.  Yet my heart was so full of joy that I could only SIT before God, and admire him, like David in 2 Samuel vii. At last I cast myself flat down upon my face and burst forth in thanksgiving to God and in surrendering my heart afresh to him for his blessed service.'"

	I would just add that what's important here is not volume of his ministry but the unusual way the ministry was supported. There have been plenty of big organizations printing tracts, sending out missionaries, and running schools--with mixed results. Depending on what is preached or taught, the witness value may be great or little. But usually the MEANS of support has little witness value. Ministries use the same advertising/business methods that are used for worldly purposes (such as political campaigns), they just direct the money towards different work. So while their preaching may be a good witness, their fundraising usually isn't--it doesn't even ATTEMPT to be witness. That same fundraising may even reinforce worldly values ("Seek first the CAPITAL and all these things will be added unto you"), thus CONTRADICTING the very gospel they're trying to preach. Muller stands out in that his MEANS of support is also a witness. Not only his ministry but also his 'fundraising' is a form of preaching, a demonstration of faith. Ends cannot justify means--it ALL has to be done in faith, as a witness to our Lord.

	11/20
	A little research on George Muller reveals: He would not accept a salary for his ministry (no secure income). He refused to borrow money (no debts), and paid in full for every purchase (no credit). He believed that "to lay up stores or hoard money was inconsistent with a life of faith" (no investments or endowment funds). And while the general needs of his ministry were known, as a rule neither he nor his co-workers asked people for money (no fund-raisers). Yet for years God fed, sheltered, and clothed him and his family... plus teachers, and missionaries, and thousands of orphans! He writes: "In all my experience I have found... that if I could only settle a certain thing to be done was according to the will of God, that means were soon obtained to carry it into effect."
	----------

	And Muller's reasons for starting his orphanages are worth quoting at length. It's notable that WITNESS ("strengthening the faith of the children of God, besides being a testimony to the consciences of the unconverted") is his primary desire; caring for the children is secondary. These are some of the same reasons I had for pilgrimage:

"Sometimes I found children of God tried in mind by the prospect of old age, when they might be unable to work any longer, and therefore were harassed by the fear of having to go into the poorhouse. If in such a case I pointed out to them, how their Heavenly Father has always helped those who put their trust in Him, they might not, perhaps, always say, that times have changed; but yet it was evident enough, that God was not looked upon by them as the LIVING God. My spirit was oft times bowed down by this, and I longed to set something before the children of God, whereby they might see, that He does not forsake, even in our day, those who rely upon Him.
    "Another class of persons were brethren in business, who suffered in their souls, and brought guilt on their consciences, by carrying on their business, almost in the same way as unconverted persons do. The competition in trade, the bad times, the overpeopled country, were given as reasons why, if the business were carried on simply according to the Word of God, it could not be expected to do well. Such a brother, perhaps, would express the wish, that he might be differently situated; but very rarely did I see that there was a stand made for God, that there was the holy determination to trust in the living God, and to depend on Him, in order that a good conscience might be maintained. To this class likewise I desired to show, by a visible proof, that God is unchangeably the same.
    "Then there was another class of persons, individuals who were in professions in which they could not continue with a good conscience, or persons who were in an unscriptural position with reference to Spiritual things; but both classes feared, on account of the consequences, to give up the profession in which they could not abide with God, or to leave their position, lest they should be thrown out of employment. My spirit longed to be instrumental in strengthening their faith, by giving them not only instances from the Word of God, of His willingness and ability to help all those who rely upon Him, but to show them by proofs, that He is the same in our day. I will know that the Word of God ought to be enough, and it was, by grace, enough to me; but still, I considered that I ought to lend a helping hand to my brethren, if by any means, by this visible proof to the unchangeable faithfulness of the Lord, I might strengthen their hands in God; for I remembered what a great blessing my own soul had received through the LORD's dealings with His servant A. H. Franke, who in dependence upon the living God alone, established an immense Orphan-House, which I had seen many times with my own eyes. I, therefore, judged myself bound to be the servant of the Church, in the particular point on which I had obtained mercy: namely, in being able to take God by His Word and to rely upon It. All these exercises of my soul, which resulted from the fact that so many believers, with whom I became acquainted, were harassed and distressed in mind, or brought guilt on their consciences, on account of not trusting in the LORD; were used by God to awaken in my heart the desire of setting before the church at large, and before the world, a proof that He has not in the least changed; and this seemed to me best done, by the establishing of an Orphan-House. It needed to be something which could be seen, even by the natural eye. Now, if I, a poor man, simply by prayer and faith, obtained without asking any individual, the means for establishing and carrying on an Orphan-House, there would be something which, with the LORD's blessing, might be instrumental in strengthening the faith of the children of God, besides being a testimony to the consciences of the unconverted, of the reality of the things of God. This, then, was the primary reason for establishing the Orphan-House. I certainly did from my heart desire to be used by God to benefit the bodies of poor children, bereaved of both parents, and seek in other respects, with the help of God, to do them good for this life;-- I also particularly longed to be used by God in getting the dear orphans trained up in the fear of God;-- but still, the first and primary object of the work was (was still is:) that God might be magnified by the fact, that the orphans under my care are provided with all they need, only by prayer and faith without anyone being asked by me or my fellow-laborers whereby it may be seen, that GOD IS FAITHFUL STILL, AND HEARS PRAYER STILL."
	----------

	Reading the story of George Muller highlighted for me this passage in James (1.2-8):

	Count it all joy, my brethren, when you meet various trials, for you 
	know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let 
	steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and 
	complete, lacking in nothing. 

(That last line was a favorite of Muller's. 'Steadfastness' here can also be interpreted 'patience'; it's what I'm referring to with all my writing about 'waiting for the Lord.')

	If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives to all men 
	generously and without reproaching, and it will be given him.

(That's what I mean when I write about 'Spirit as Teacher.' Muller was also deeply impressed by the wisdom that comes through the Holy Spirit.)

	But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a 
	wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind. For that person 
	must not suppose that a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways, 
	will receive anything from the Lord. 

(Faith!)

	11/24
	I was so encouraged by the story of George Muller, I began looking a little harder to find other Christians who held similar beliefs. Muller was great on Christian 'economics,' but he said almost nothing on politics. (I'm especially interested in these areas--obviously--since they involve so much of our everyday lives, and our common practices seem so far from Christ's teaching.) Well, I'd heard much about the Anabaptists (radical Christians of the Reformation era), and decided to do some digging. I found a book by a Mennonite (modern ancestors of the Anabaptists) that offered many excerpts from Anabaptist works. It's Peter Hoover's "The Secret of the Strength: What Would the Anabaptists Tell This Generation?"
	The Anabaptists were a diverse group. They had no centralized doctrine or hierarchy (they were actually rather anarchistic). So what I found was not so much the official beliefs of a denomination, but the witness of Christians that shared a similar faith (also similar to mine). They also shared great sufferings for that faith. Anabaptists were tortured, beheaded, drowned, and burned--by Catholics, Lutherans, Calvinists, and Zwinglians alike. And they accepted these persecutions as part of the Christian life (another favorite theme of mine). But I'm most interested in their beliefs and practices concerning business and politics.
	From Hoover:

	The joint council of Zürich, Sankt Gallen, and Bern condemned the 
	Anabaptists in 1527. One thing they held against them was their teaching 
	on economics: "They say that no Christian, if he is really sincere, may 
	either give or receive interest on money. They say that all temporal 
	goods are free and common and everyone has full rights to use them."

Again, after a mass arrest of a community of Anabaptists:

	The authorities questioned the heads of the homes: "May a Christian own 
	property?" Answers received varied in detail but they were consistent: 
	"A Christian may have property but in such a way that he has it not, and 
	no one should call property his own.... Holders of property yet owning 
	nothing, Christians use property only as long as it pleases God. Then, 
	when a neighbour or when God needs it, they let it go..."

Berndt Rothmann, a south German Anabaptist, wrote:

	We hope that the spirit of community among us is so strong and glorious 
	that community of goods will be practiced with a pure heart through the 
	grace of God as it has never been practiced before. ...All that have 
	served their own materialism and the owning of property, such as buying, 
	selling, and working for personal gain, interest, or speculation, even 
	with unbelievers, and drinking and eating the sweat of the poor through 
	whose labour we fatten ourselves--all this has disappeared completely 
	among us through the power of love and community.

But the common use of goods was not compulsory. Leupold Scharnschlager wrote: 

	The example of the first Christians is often misunderstood, and because 
	of it some try to make laws, put on pressure, and get people into a 
	corner with what appears to be a human or carnal way of becoming 
	"righteous." We should remember that the community of the first 
	Christians in Jerusalem was totally voluntary. ...Some say that since 
	the Lord Jesus expects everyone to live in community of goods, we should 
	boldly require it of everyone. But the Holy Spirit does not want it that 
	way. It is not man's work to force others into community, just as 
	community itself is not a work of the flesh. We should not go about it 
	in a fleshly way but in a spiritual way, being careful not to violate 
	the free will of the Lord's people.

	Not using force was very important to many Anabaptists. This is seen most clearly in their beliefs about politics and violence, but it was also closely connected to their beliefs on economics. An Anabaptist booklet that came out in Augsburg connected violence to private property:

	Those who think they possess their goods want the government to protect 
	them. They think it necessary to use force to keep peace, to protect 
	their own possessions and the possessions of others. In fact, all use of 
	force comes from the possession of property. From the holding of 
	property comes all government and force in the world. But the 
	communities of Christ are not based on the holding of property, but on 
	Christ. They are subject to Christ before all else.

Many Anabaptists would simply not use violence, even in self-defense, neither would they serve as civil authorities--in both cases following Christ's example. A passage in Augsburg Confession (Lutheran, 1530) is specifically directed AGAINST Anabaptist teachings:

	It is taught among us that... Christians may without sin occupy civil 
	offices or serve as princes and judges, render decisions and pass 
	sentence according to imperial and other existing laws, punish evildoers 
	with the sword, engage in just wars, serve as soldiers, buy and sell, 
	take required oaths, possess property...

In many instances (certainly not all, however) Anabaptists taught that Christians should not do these things. It's easy to see why they were perceived as a threat to society. Their 'conscientious objection' to common business and political practices could only appear anarchistic to the authorities of the time (and they still would in our time). The Anabaptists at Augsburg wrote:

	Community in Christ is patience and love. It functions without bosses or 
	chiefs, and it needs no underlings. In this community, all are on one 
	level in Christ. Where there are no chiefs, there can, in fact, be no 
	underlings, yet all true Christians are under the control of the will of 
	God in Christ.

Is that not Christian anarchism?
	And here's a passage that reminded me of my 'waiting for the Lord,' and seemed to sum up the Anabaptist patience in suffering. It's a song by Ursula Hellrigl, a teenage girl imprisoned for her Anabaptist beliefs:

	Eternal Father in heaven, I call to you from my innermost being. Do not 
	let me turn away from you, but keep me in your truth until the end. Oh 
	God, keep my heart and my mouth. Watch over me every hour. Do not let me 
	turn away from you because of anxiety, fear or distress. Keep me 
	steadfast in your joy.... I lie here in chains, waiting on you God, with 
	a very great longing for the time when you will set me free.

	11/25
	Hoover's book has a sad ending: the disintegration of the Anabaptist movement into authoritarianism, abusive "shunning," traditionalism, and fixation on clothes, anti-technology, and other matters concerning the "simple" lifestyle. Actually, I'd already seen the same things in the Mennonite and Amish communities around today. It seems to be just another form of the same worldly fight for identity and control that exists in all other institutions and societies.
	It brought me back to thoughts I'd had earlier on two related subjects: the visible church, and mass conversions. Many Anabaptists rejected the idea of the 'invisible church'--that the true children of God are known to him alone and are scattered throughout society. They insisted that the children of God should be known by their works (true enough) and that the church was visible and localized in their communes and fellowships (this eventually becomes very questionable in light of the behavior of those communities). But, in all of history, I don't know of one visible (institutionalized) community of ANY kind that didn't quickly become tainted by internal fighting over power and money. Politics and business again. I believe it's inherently connected to the struggle for institutional survival and identity (a form of idolatry, as far as I'm concerned). So I'm even more convinced that the true church, the Body of Christ on earth, is an 'invisible' community (the 'remnant'--see entry on the 4th). His followers, of course, are visible, and their good works should be clearly visible. But the boundaries of Christ's Body are not defined by denominational membership, worship styles, or doctrinal correctness. The Spirit defines his Body. And the Spirit, like the wind, blows where it pleases--though its effects are clearly seen.
	The other thing--mass conversions--came up in reference to both the Anabaptists and George Muller. There were so many that were baptized by the early Anabaptist evangelists! And Muller got so much support (millions!) from the people of London! That seemed to contradict my assumption (based on the Bible and my experience) that not many would accept the 'good news' of Jesus if it was honestly preached (see end of 10/17 entry). On reflection, I think the Anabaptists and Muller were accepted as well as they were for the same reason Jesus was well-accepted at first. It was a misunderstanding. Many people liked Jesus' healings and his respect for the poor, they liked the Anabaptists charity and courage, they liked Muller's compassion and faith. But the majority of people that followed these great witnesses were not true 'followers.' They mobbed Jesus shouting "Hosanna!," then mobbed again to shout "Crucify him!" They joined Anabaptists communities in droves, then turned to infighting and traditionalism. And they crowded to support Muller, but how many believed enough in what he preached to IMITATE his life of faith? I believe God used 'the crowds' in all of these cases, to promote his own good purposes. But the majority of those people were not sincere in faith or committed to following Christ. Their subsequent actions give them away. Jesus surely knew this, and so he never trusted his popularity or attempted to use it. He ignored it or actively refused it. Such popular followings are never a good indicator of the truthfulness or faithfulness of a witness. Their lives alone--as judged by God's own Spirit--give evidence of their Christlikeness.

	11/29
	Found this quote by Flannery O'Connor:

	"You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd."

	12/1
	I found two interesting/funny news stories about Jesus look-a-likes. The first appeared in the Cincinnati Enquirer on September 2, 1999 (I just quote the best part):

	A guy who looked a lot like Jesus was spotted recently walking along 
	Dixie Highway. Elsmere police watched the man for a few blocks. When he 
	ducked into St. Henry's Church to escape the rain, officers followed. 
	"What was odd about it, this guy's got a white pajama thing on, a beard, 
	blond hair down to his shoulders, a rope for a belt and no shoes," says 
	Officer Doug Eagler. "He looks like Jesus Christ. People are stopping on 
	(Dixie) and looking." 
	    The man identified himself as Carl Joseph, age 39. Said he was a 
	missionary on his way to Detroit. Mr. Eagler noticed he was carrying 
	nothing but a Bible. "You don't have a backpack or anything?" he asked. 
	"The good Lord always provides," replied the man. He looked clean and 
	acted unusually humble, Mr. Eagler says. After a few minutes of 
	conversation, the police left. 
	    Mr. Eagler recalls the Aug. 24 episode with amusement and a bit of 
	wonder. He said he's glad Elsmere police treated the wanderer with 
	respect. 
	    "You never know," he says. 

And the second is from the March 19, 1999 issue of the Times, in Georgetown, South Carolina (Arthur Blessitt is the "Jesus"):

	"The cross has been turned away from being left overnight at more than 
	half of the churches requested, but has never been turned away from 
	spending the night at a bar or nightclub in 29 years around the world." 
	-Arthur Blessitt

	    If you want to attract attention in Georgetown, walk in from 
	Charleston on Highway 17 dragging a 12-foot cross over your shoulder.
	Some people are more cynical than me, but only a few, and I admire them. 
	I live for days like Thursday when the newsroom phone rang and an 
	anonymous voice informed me, "I just passed Jesus walking into 
	Georgetown. He's dragging a massive cross. He's almost to the city 
	limits and I thought you might like know." 
	    You bet. Photo ops like that don't come along every day. "Has he 
	passed DeBordieu?" 
	    "No, he's coming from the south. From Charleston on Highway 17." 
	    "Is Jesus walking with the traffic, or against it?" I asked, 
	shouldering my camera bag, not wanting to miss Him.
	    "Against. Jesus knows which side of the road to walk on." 

	A friend brought Carl Joseph to my attention yesterday, and I'd heard of Blessitt before (he's in the Guinness Book of World Records for the longest walk, through pretty much every nation in the world). There's definite similarities between these two and what I've been doing. But next to them I feel like a pretty normal guy. I recognize, however, that to many I look just like these guys; the eccentricity is all that is seen (which is not ALL bad; many people are inspired by such 'eccentrics'). Overall, it makes the study I'm doing now seem more important to me. I'd like to have some theology, biblical support, Christian precedent, and even some reasonable philosophy to share with the people I meet. In other words, I want to follow Jesus with understanding--not just mimic him.

	12/4
	More research on Carl Joseph reveals that he's known more for his image than his message, which is a mantra of pretty basic spirituality. But a couple of things he said rang true. He mentioned a good quote by St. Francis:

	Preach the gospel always, and if you need to, use words.

Plus he gave this good reason for the pilgrim lifestyle: "If I walk, I'm more accessible to people. Jesus walked. Buddha walked. And Gandhi walked." 
	And I found this interesting exchange in an interview of Carl Joseph by John D. Spalding, who questioned his Jesus-style garb:

	When I asked about the robe, he said... "I found that a loose-fitting 
	garment is practical for living outdoors." Practical? In the snow? Admit 
	it, I said, the get-up is a huge reason you draw crowds. "Of course," he 
	said. "And the crowds hear the message." I asked if there was ever a 
	time he did all the same stuff--walk town to town, preaching and praying 
	with the sick--but wore everyday clothes, like jeans and a T-shirt. 
	    "Oh, sure," he said.
	    "How was that different?" I asked.
	    "Nobody paid attention."

Which is closer to my experience.

	12/6
	I just started Evelyn Underhill's "Mysticism," and I already found this quote I really like: 

	The value of contemplation is that it... turns the "lower servitude" in 
	which the natural man lives under the sway of his earthly environment to 
	the "higher servitude" of fully conscious dependence on that Reality "in 
	Whom we live and move and have our being."

This makes me think of my struggle for freedom from a false slavery (expressed in an anarchistic denunciation of oppression and the rejection of worldly values) while at the same time trying to be strictly obedient to God (expressed in a Sermon-on-the-Mount morality and an insistence on pure/loving motives). It also reminds me of Paul's words to the Romans (6.16-18,20-22):

	Do you not know that if you yield yourselves to any one as obedient 
	slaves, you are slaves of the one whom you obey, either of sin, which 
	leads to death, or of obedience, which leads to righteousness? But 
	thanks be to God, that you who were once slaves of sin have become 
	obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were 
	committed, and, having been set free from sin, have become slaves of 
	righteousness.... When you were slaves of sin, you were free in regard 
	to righteousness. But then what return did you get from the things of 
	which you are now ashamed? The end of those things is death. But now 
	that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the 
	return you get is sanctification and its end, eternal life. 

	I don't know yet exactly what distinction Underhill is making, when she refers to 'lower' and 'higher.' Current popular thought tends to shy away from duality of any kind. But I think there is a duality; and Paul certainly speaks of some sort of flesh/spirit duality in many of his writings. Many have interpreted this to mean physical/contingent is bad, spiritual/eternal is good. But I think that's a mistake. This passage from Romans presents it better: sin/death = bad, righteousness/life = good. The duality is not between the physical and the spiritual but between the real and the unreal, the truth and the lie. When I've written against 'worldliness' I meant to condemn, not the physical world, but our false illusions about the real (and good) world. This falseness is not 'out there'--all reality is good and true. The falseness (sin, lie, worldliness, 'flesh') exists only IN US when we exercise our free will against God. [Later I found this passage, which echoes what I'm saying here:

	By false desires and false thoughts man has built up for himself a false 
	universe: as a mollusk by the deliberate and persistent absorption of 
	lime and rejection of all else, can build up for itself a hard shell 
	which shuts it from the external world, and only represents in a 
	distorted and unrecognisable form the ocean from which it was obtained. 
	This hard and wholly unnutritious shell, this one-sided secretion of the 
	surface-consciousness, makes as it were a little cave of illusion for 
	each separate soul. ...The world, which we have distorted by identifying 
	it with our own self-regarding arrangements of its elements, has got to 
	reassume for us the character of Reality, of God.]

Illusion/Reality: that's the only duality. And it's a duality that can only be overcome through faith--which I think Underhill is heading towards when she speaks of contemplation.
	----------

	And here it is, in a line from Dionysius the Areopagite: 

	Attainment comes only by means of [the] sincere, spontaneous, and entire 
	surrender of yourself and all things. 

Such a surrender is exactly what I mean by faith. The Love of God is the "attainment" which comes through faith. "The one who loses their life for my sake will find it."

	12/8
	Another quote from "Mysticism," this one by Meister Eckhart:

	The best masters say that the love wherewith we love is the Holy Spirit. 
	Some deny it. But this is always true: all those motives by which we are 
	moved to love, in these is nothing else than the Holy Spirit.

This is the 'attainment' that comes through faith: God within, motivating us by love. The Holy Spirit. The only pure motivation for any word or action.

	12/9
	Underhill makes an excellent point in her separation of magic from mysticism. Basically she says that magic seeks to exercise the human spiritual potential in order to get something: knowledge, power, blessings, etc. This, she says, stands in marked contrast to the mystics desire to GIVE themselves in prayer, to offer up themselves up in love, through the self-surrender of faith.
	That's a very good distinction. I hadn't thought of it in terms of magic before, though it's the perfect image, especially now as occultism is popping up again and again in our popular culture. Magic is the spiritual means to make things happen. It's tapping into the power of the unseen. I'd thought about it using the terms 'paganism' or 'superstition.' But really it's a major part of most people's religion (see comments about "personal religion" on November 19th; also the August 6th entry). We pray, we perform rituals, we look for a sign so we know which way to go to avoid calamity. We attempt to appease the gods. Or we attempt to bargain with the powers that be so that our wishes will be granted. The 'power' of prayer: we can heal ourselves, we can empower ourselves, we can comfort ourselves. And Underhill notes that much of this can be effective. Such rituals can help focus the will and calm the mind, which benefits the body. But the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that much of what we call religion (even if we call it 'Christianity') is no more than an updated paganism.
	True prayer, the prayer of faith, is very different. It is an offering up of our will in loving submission and obedience to God. It is not an attempt to get something; instead, it trusts that God knows our deepest needs, and that he wants to satisfy us--with himself. True prayer is this: "Thy will be done." Jesus gave these words in the Lord's Prayer, and he cried them at Gethsemene. "Not my will, but THY will be done." True, we are to offer ALL the desires of our hearts up to God, believing that he answers prayer--but he answers as HE wills. And yes, our prayers CAN move mountains--IF we pray in accordance with the will of God. It all comes down to faith. Prayer without faith--without the surrender to the wisdom and love of God--is impotent conjuring. We must pray with faith, we must pray IN faith.

	Charles DeFoucault's prayer (from August 15th entry) is also a "Thy will be done" prayer. It's worth seeing again:

	Father, I abandon myself into your hands;
	Do with me what you will.
	Whatever you may do, I thank you--
	I am ready for all, I accept all.

	Let only your will be done in me
	And in all your creatures.
	I wish no more than this, O Lord.
	Into your hands I commend my spirit.

	I offer it to you
	With all the love of my heart.
	For I love you Lord,
	And so need to give myself--

	To surrender myself into your hands
	Without reserve,
	And with boundless confidence
	For you are my Father.

	12/10
	A good passage from "Mysticism" about contemplative 'work' (reminding me of the "action in inactivity" I wrote about on October 12th):
 
	...the "quiet" to which the mystics must school themselves in the early 
	stages of contemplation is often the hardest of their tasks. ...Work
	they must but this work may take many forms--forms which are sometimes 
	so wholly spiritual that they are not perceptible to practical minds. 
	Much of the misunderstanding and consequent contempt of the 
	contemplative life comes from the narrow and superficial definition of 
	"work" which is set up by a muscular and wage-earning community.

[To clarify 'contemplation' (from later chapters in the same book): 

	The condition of all valid seeing and hearing, upon every plane of 
	consciousness, lies not in the sharpening of the senses, but in a 
	peculiar attitude of the whole personality: in a self-forgetting
	attentiveness, a profound concentration, a self-merging, which operates 
	a real communion between the seer and the seen--in a word, 
	Contemplation.

	It is an act, not of the Reason, but of the whole personality working 
	under the stimulus of mystic love. ...We pour ourselves out or, as it 
	sometimes seems to us, IN towards this over-powering interest: seem to 
	ourselves to reach it and be merged with it.]

	12/11
	I've been thinking a lot about 'activity.' It's behind much of the discussion last month, about evangelism, Spirit as Teacher, waiting for the Lord, boredom, etc. Plus there's a big contrast between the activity of walking (last summer) and the activity of studying (now). I don't want to fall into a quietistic position of despising active 'doing.' But, as is clear in last month's journal entries, I also don't want to be driven by a need for activity, the desire for results, wanting to 'make something happen.' I believe ministry is best if we're free to do or not-do.
	One of the reasons I lost interest in 'contemplative' writing years ago is that much of it seemed to describe a prayer life that was separated from normal human existence. Often the contemplative life was presented as being incompatible with physical activity, so people had to choose: contemplative or active life? I certainly was attracted to the deep life of prayer that contemplatives described. But did it have to REPLACE active ministry? Shouldn't prayer enhance ministry? 
	Teresa of Avila presents a better view in this quote from "Mysticism":

	"You may think, my daughters," says St. Teresa, "that the soul in this 
	state [contemplation] should be so absorbed that she can occupy herself 
	with nothing. You deceive yourselves. She turns with greater ease and 
	ardour than before to all that which belongs to the service of God, and 
	when these occupations leave her free again, she remains in the 
	enjoyment of that companionship."

I agree that contemplation is an asset to the active "service of God," not only helping us to discern what God wants, but also motivating our actions with love. In addition, when there is a pause in our occupations the 'activity' of contemplative prayer remains. Thus we can act in the power of God's love when we see others in need, and at other moments we can sit like Mary at the feet of Jesus.
	This becomes clearer when the 'activity' of prayer is understood. The distinction between prayer and magic (entry two days ago) helps, also the 'work' of prayer (yesterday). It's not just asking God for things, or trying to exercise some spiritual power to make things happen. Prayer is actively willing what God wills. It is the power of Love (the Holy Spirit) moving in us through faith. Thus, in intent, prayer is essentially the same as active ministry--the only difference is the physical movement. Ministry and prayer become one piece. "Pray without ceasing" becomes a possibility. The crucial part is that we surrender our will to God in faith; then we move or don't move according to his will. We're ready to jump to the service of others as we encounter their need. And we're also ready to remain 'waiting for the Lord' when our hands seem tied. Yet, whether we're in a moment of doing or not-doing, we're always active if we remain in prayer. Because prayer means an active giving of oneself, willing with God's will, loving with God's Love.

	12/12
	As I began reading "Mysticism" this morning, the chapter opened with these excellent words:

	Here, then, stands the newly awakened self: aware, for the first time, 
	of reality, responding to that reality by deep movements of love and of 
	awe. She sees herself, however, not merely to be thrust into a new 
	world, but set at the beginning of a new road. Activity is now to be her 
	watchword, pilgrimage the business of her life. 

	It's nice to see the use of pilgrimage imagery in the writings about mysticism (and it is pretty common). But often the emphasis is on progress, how far the pilgrim has traveled towards the goal. That's unfortunate. A focus on spiritual progress--our spiritual 'state' or attainment--directs the attention away from the present moment and towards an analysis of the past. We try to establish how far we've come, or how far we have left to go. It's like the hiker who (though he sees the trail right in front of him) wastes time looking at the map--estimating his progress instead of walking. Our task is not to judge our 'attainment'; our task is to keep walking. That's why I like the idea of an open-ended pilgrimage (at least for the duration of this life). That way the focus is not on progress, not on some fixed destination, but on the path, the way. It encourages a more existential understanding of the spiritual life. It helps direct our attention to this present moment, the 'now' when we are called on to make a choice, to act or speak--or not. That's where faith occurs, not in evaluations of past progress or speculations about possible futures, but in the present activity. Faith can only be NOW, because God is always NOW. And when we are truly with God NOW, all questions about progress or attainment (or maps) are forgotten.

	12/15
	I've been plodding through descriptions of mystical experiences. For all the talk about "indescribable" experiences, mystics sure do pile up a LOT of words trying to describe them. Once, I was very interested in such writing. Because I placed a great hope in the possibility of supernatural, 'otherworldly' experiences, like they described. Even through it was always a temporary ecstasy (and could ONLY be temporary this side of heaven, they assured me), it seemed like a welcome escape from the struggles of THIS world. Eventually, I became disillusioned. I'll blame it mostly on my impure motives (trying to escape life is not what love is about); but I'm still skeptical about ANY desire for such experiences.
	I believe (as I wrote on November 19th) that genuine experiences of the divine are known by the effect they have on the person. We are converted, transformed, made better. And that's something we CAN share with others (we can't avoid it, really). Early in Underhill's book this passage caught my eye, because it seemed to indicate some observable effects of contemplative "activity":

	It is true that in nearly every case such "great actives" have first 
	left the world, as a necessary condition of establishing communion with 
	that Absolute Life which reinforced their own: for a mind distracted by 
	the many cannot apprehend the One. Hence something equivalent to the 
	solitude of the wilderness is an essential part of mystical education. 
	But, having established that communion, re-ordered their inner lives 
	upon transcendent levels--being united with their Source not merely in 
	temporary ecstasies, but in virtue of a permanent condition of the soul, 
	they were impelled to abandon their solitude; and resumed, in some way, 
	their contact with the world in order to become the medium whereby that 
	Life flowed out to other men. To go up alone into the mountain and come 
	back as an ambassador to the world, has ever been the method of 
	humanity's best friends. 

Our spiritual experiences may be indescribable--but why describe them? They are for US, and WE understand them. What we share with others is not the experience, but our changed life. People can appreciate what God has done because we are transformed, because we do good for them and inspire good in them. In this way, our lives 'translate' God's love to the world.
	----------

	I really like this passage, too:

	Only when we... cease thinking of ourselves at all, in however
	depreciatory a sense; when we abolish even such selfhood as lies in a 
	desire for the sensible presence of God, will that harmony be attained. 
	This is the "naughting of the soul," the utter surrender to the great 
	movement of the Absolute Life, which is insisted upon at such length by 
	all writers upon mysticism. ...the condition of access to higher levels 
	of vitality is a death: a deprivation, a detachment, a clearing of the 
	ground. Poverty leaps to the Cross: and finds there an utter desolation, 
	without promise of spiritual reward. The satisfactions of the spirit 
	must now go the same way as the satisfactions of the senses. Even the 
	power of voluntary sacrifice and self-discipline is taken away. A 
	dreadful ennui, a dull helplessness, takes its place. The mystic motto, 
	"I am nothing, I have nothing, I desire nothing," must now express not 
	only the detachment of the senses, but the whole being's surrender to 
	the All.

Not only does it vividly describe the 'death' of faith, which I refer to again and again, it also connects this with an experience of nothingness and the feeling of "a dreadful ennui." That reminds me of the discussion of boredom and nothingness in the November 13 and 15 journal entries. This is not something to be feared or avoided, just as we should not attempt to flee physical death. This Way of Cross is the way to God. This is not, however, a one-time experience, a threshold to be crossed. We must live always in this surrender, this 'selfless'-ness, so that the living Love of God may be all in us. That's living by faith: "It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me."(Gal 2.20)

	12/17
	I found this passage in today's Washington Post. The article was discussing the incredibly partisan election drama this year (and amazingly even division: the presidential vote was so close the candidates were separated by much less than the margin of error, so after a month of recounts and arguing the courts ended up deciding it--with a state supreme court basically giving the election to one candidate by a 5-4 vote, then the U.S. Supreme Court overruling and giving it to the other candidate, again by a 5-4 vote).

	To achieve constitutional equilibrium, James Madison wrote in the 
	Federalist in 1788, "Ambition must be made to counteract ambition." No 
	one then relied on anyone now--or ever--doing the statesmanlike thing. 
	The Framers assumed that all might act improperly, that men and 
	institutions were corruptible and corrupted. They had no hope of 
	changing human nature, so they sought to exploit it and control it. 
	Checks and balances were the Framers' way of fashioning legitimacy for 
	the system out of the illegitimate acts that, inevitably, men and 
	institutions would engage in.

These lines immediately reminded me of G.K. Chesterton's remarks in the October 26th journal entry. Like Chesterton, Madison paints a pretty bleak picture of the political agenda (while believing it's a NECESSARY evil). But it's ironic that the framers' attempt to "exploit and control" by pitting ambition against ambition--this also is an 'ambition,' which is counteracted by the ambition of those who do not wish to be controlled. I think Madison perceives a deep truth here, but no government or political party will ever be capable of managing it.
	God, however, IS capable. And I believe that this is exactly how God governs the world, often using godless men. "Ambition must be made to counteract ambition." Nation is pitted against nation; liberal against conservative; denomination against denomination. Those in power (the 'authorities'), who use violence to protect their own interests, are pitted against rebels (the 'criminals'), who use violence to promote THEIR own interests. Thus God uses one against the other, maintaining some sort of equilibrium. Not that this makes the motives of EITHER ambitious party right or good. ALL may be selfish, yet God works good out of it; the behavior of ALL may be wrong, yet God uses all to make right. That's Providence. And it seems God accomplishes this by making "ambition counteract ambition."

	12/18
	Back to the theme of activity. This quote by John of Ruysbroeck describes the soul that is active inwardly (in prayer) and outwardly (in service), inner activity complementing and prompting outer activity:

	It is active in all loving work, for it sees its rest. It is a pilgrim, 
	for it sees its country. For love's sake it strives for victory, for it 
	sees its crown. Consolation, peace, joy, beauty and riches, all that can 
	give delight, all this is shown to the mind illuminated in God, in 
	spiritual similitudes and without measure. And through this vision and 
	touch of God, love continues active. ...[it] dwells in God; and yet [it] 
	goes out towards all creatures, in a spirit of love towards all things, 
	in virtue and in works of righteousness. And this is the supreme summit 
	of the inner life.

Nice pilgrim imagery, too. That the ability to see our 'homeland' (or, as I have put it before, our 'fiery pillar'), through faith, makes it possible to continue our pilgrimage in active love.
	----------

	As I come to the end of Underhill's "Mysticism," I'm feeling like I need to say something about her 'hero-izing' (if not quite idolizing) of the recognized mystics in history. This passage is the epitome (Note--I do NOT agree with this):

	...the adventure of the great mystics intimately concerns us. It is a 
	master-key to man's puzzle: by its help he may explain much in his 
	mental makeup, in his religious constructions, in his experience of 
	life. In all these departments he perceives himself to be climbing 
	slowly and clumsily upward toward some attainment yet unseen. The 
	mystics, expert mountaineers, go before him: and show him, if he cares 
	to learn, the way to freedom, to reality, to peace. He cannot rise in 
	this, his earthly existence, to the awful and solitary peak, veiled in 
	the Cloud of Unknowing, where they meet that "death of the summit," 
	which is declared by them to be the gate of Perfect Life: but if he 
	choose to profit by their explorations, he may find his level, his place 
	within the Eternal Order...

Problems: 1) the mystics' 'attainment' is distorted into a practically unreachable ideal, partially because 2) the capabilities or possibilities available to mere 'normal' people are UNDERestimated. Which results in what is perhaps most troubling, that 3) our attention is directed to these mystic 'heroes' to show us "the way to freedom, to reality, to peace." Ironically, most of these witnesses did their utmost to direct attention AWAY from themselves, towards Christ. They attempted to become self-less and communicate self-lessness, so that Christ might be all that is seen. Now THEY are being made the heroes who show the way, who provide the "master-key to man's puzzle." We are told "Look at THEM, follow THEM, imitate THEM." But they spoke truest when their description of their 'death' in faith proclaimed "We are not the way, we don't have the way, CHRIST is the Way."
	And if Christ is the master-key, the way to freedom, reality, and peace, then everything changes. 'Attainment' is then not a matter of genius or great psychic ability, not for the great mystics, not for anybody. It's the gift of God, through faith. Thus it is available to all--all who hear the voice of Jesus and follow him, not by their own strength but by the power of HIS hand. Furthermore, in his life on earth, Jesus always called and associated with 'normal' people: fishermen, servants, prostitutes, the poor, and children. If they became great witnesses it was not because of their 'genius,' it was because of their contact with HIM. And it wasn't a matter of 'heroic inspiration,' either--it was the real indwelling of his Spirit, his real presence IN his people. 
	EVERY person is capable of and called to live what Ruysbroeck called "the supreme summit of the inner life": "no longer I... but Christ lives in me." We don't follow heroes, each follows Christ, THE Way. Each of us responds to Christ's voice like each part of the body responds to the head. Thus we should not make of ourselves (or make FOR ourselves) heroes or teachers or masters, because in Christ we are all brothers and sisters, one body, HIS Body:

	You are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are
	all brethren. And call no man your father on earth, for you have one
	Father, who is in heaven. Neither be called masters, for you have one
	master, the Christ. (Mt 23.8-10)

	12/21
	There was an interesting article in the Washington Post this morning (I look at it on the internet). The article's by Joel Garreau, and it's about the internet as part of a 'gift economy'--appropriate for Christmas. It also interests me because of its 'give freely' message, and because I'm currently spending so much time online. (Reminds me of the comment I made about the internet in connection with anarchism, at the end of the October 3rd entry.) I copied the best parts:

... the Net from first creation was not built by greed. Instead, it was built by individuals openly offering wisdom and information for free. Their legacy is all around us. Look at the results to any question you ask of your computer's search engines. Most of the answers that pop up clearly were put there by people with no hope of immediate financial gain--pictures of the beach on the island of Bequia, hymns to antique Harley Davidsons in German, the warning signs of frostbite, the botany of mistletoe, short stories by Anton Chekhov. It's endless.
    Now the Next Big Thing in our lives is supposed to be millions of us freely sharing the very guts of our own computers--both the content and the processing power--individual-to-individual, peer-to-peer. ...Not too surprisingly, the market-economy types are trying to figure out how to make money on this burgeoning gift economy. They're having a hard time.

... A gift economy is indeed an economy--you can rationally expect that if you tender a gift, sooner or later you will receive some kind of return. But the return is indirect. And expectation of a return can be idealistic, even mystical.
    The Bible is full of examples. "Cast thy bread upon the waters," the book of Ecclesiastes commands. In the New Testament, five loaves and two fishes offered freely by Jesus and His disciples not only feed the multitude, according to the book of Matthew, but the leftovers fill 12 baskets.
    The deep structure of the Internet has an undeniably utopian cast. "E-mail is the oddest thing," says gift-scholar [Lewis] Hyde. "All the computers and servers and connections--it has a gift economy feel to it. Unlike the telephone, there's not somebody there charging me when I'm using it. And I don't know the anonymous benefactors who have made it work."
    "The Net is haunted by the disappointed hopes of the '60s," says England's [Richard] Barbrook. From the earliest days, with the battle cry "Information wants to be free," the Internet was seen as a space where people could find ways to collaborate without the need for either governments or markets to mediate social bonds. And indeed, it has worked out that way. To this day, it is notoriously difficult to charge for anything on the Net, because there is so much of value there for free.

... Tim Berners-Lee, the inventor of the Web, gave away his discovery. "One thing that was clear to him was that if it was going to be successful, he would have to give it away," Hyde says. "The irony is that to become a commercially viable medium, it had to begin with a public domain action."

... "When you don't know who will be receiving your gift, in some ways that's a purer form of altruism," Hyde says. "You hope you will live in the kind of world where others will do this. There's that old joke, 'If you don't go to other men's funerals, they won't come to yours.' It's an act of faith. And if enough people make that gesture, you will have that kind of world."

	12/22
	This passage is from an article by Richard John Neuhaus, in which he comments on "Poustinia," a book on prayer by Catherine de Hueck Doherty. I read it years ago. I remember it being a very good book, based on the Russian experience of pilgrimage and solitude.

	...poustiniki live in a small hut--for days or months or years, or for a 
	lifetime--in an isolation that is also total availability to the 
	community. The heart of the poustinia is kenosis, joining Christ in the 
	emptying of the self, as described by Paul in Philippians 2. "I think 
	that God calls the poustinik to a total purgation, a total self-
	emptying," writes Catherine. She cautioned against the impulse to be 
	relevant by doing something useful as the world measures usefulness. "If 
	you want to see what a 'contribution' really is, look at the Man on the 
	cross. That's a contribution. When you are hanging on a cross you can't
	do anything because you’re crucified. That is the essence of a 
	poustinik. That is his or her contribution."

I certainly can appreciate her comments on self-emptying and usefulness (or lack thereof). Though I'm a little hesitant about her description of 'the contribution.' Our contribution will never be the same as Christ's, or rather, it IS the same because it is nothing more (nothing added to) HIS contribution. The contribution of a self-emptying, prophetic (and apparently 'useless') life is not some mysterious, mystical 'value-added' by the individual. Its contribution is WITNESS. Such a life helps others by pointing to Christ with some greater clarity, preaching by living.
	This is all the more valuable when it occurs in the midst of a society that propagandizes AGAINST Christ by its political structures, business practices, and worship of power and violence (though both awe and fear). As Jesus said to his brothers: "The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify of it that its works are evil."(Jn 7.7) So society also hates those who follow Jesus, hurling its worst epithet at them: "Useless!"

	12/23
	I was reading Kierkegaard this morning, an old, yellow-leafed copy of "Training in Christianity." My favorite of his works. And this is one of my favorite passages:

	[The God-relationship] must be for every individual man the absolute, 
	and it is precisely this God-relationship of the individual which must
	put every established order in suspense, so that God, at any instant He
	will, by pressure upon the individual has immediately in his God-
	relationship a witness, a reporter, a spy, or whatever you prefer to 
	call it, one who in unconditional obedience, or by unconditional
	obedience, by persecution, suffering, and death, puts the established
	order in suspense.

And I'll include the next paragraph also, because it seems more meaningful in light of my experiences over the last few years (especially in organized religious life).

	When the individual appeals to his God-relationship in opposition to the
	established order, it looks indeed as if he made himself more than a
	man. Nevertheless, he does not by any means do that; for he concedes
	that every man, absolutely every man, has or should have for his part
	the same relationship to God. As little as one who says he is in love
	denies by this that others have the same experience, just so little or
	even less does such an individual deny that another (but always as an
	individual) has the same God-relationship. But the established order
	refuses to entertain the notion that it might consist of so loose an
	aggregation of millions of individuals each of which severally has his
	own God-relationship. The established order desires to be totalitarian,
	recognizing nothing over it, but having under it every individual who is
	integrated in it. And 'that individual,' who expounds the most humble,
	but at the same time the most humane doctrine about what it means to be
	a man, the established order desires to terrify by imputing to him the
	guilt of blasphemy.

He concludes: "...he who disparages such an established order [in this way] is regarded as one who makes himself more than a man, and people are offended in him, although in reality he merely makes God God and man man."

	12/25

	The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light;
		those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness,
		on them light has shined....
	For the yoke of his burden
		and the staff for his shoulder,
		the rod of his oppressor,
		you have broken as on the day of Midian.
	For every boot of the tramping warrior in battle tumult
		and every garment rolled in blood
		will be burned as fuel for the fire.
	For to us a child is born,
		to us a son is given;
	And the government will be upon his shoulder,
	And his name will be called
		Wonderful Counselor,
		Mighty God,
		Everlasting Father,
		Prince of Peace.

	Suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host,
	praising God and saying,
		"Glory to God in the highest, 
		 and on earth peace among men..."

	Is 9.2,4-6 (v.6 is much more interesting with v.4 and 5!); Lk 2.13-14

	12/26
	Christmas is widely accepted as a time of 'make-believe.' But we generally think this annual fantasy is for the sake of children, since we adults know there is no Santa and we nod gravely at the scourge of holiday commercialism. We know most of the Christmas hubbub is fantasy, but we justify it by an appeal to an underlying reality: "Christmas Spirit." That's real, if Santa is not. But I suspect that this belief, as edifying as it seems, is merely the adult form of Christmas make-believe.
	Christmas still confuses me. I've been struggling with all the conflicting images and experiences for years, but it still muddles me every time. The most confusing thing is the appearance of mass generosity: suddenly giving becomes not only fashionable but expected. It looks so good, but what brought this on? How does such a wide-spread change of heart occur at a fixed time every year? As I've been writing for months, it seems that for most of the year society is organized AGAINST generosity. The economic system is set up on an equal exchange basis; generous acts are not accounted for, they throw off the supply-demand curve, and they're hard to tax. And all the politicians work with assumption that people will favor decisions that serve their own interests; nobody wants to appear to be giving away the community's resources (if it's an investment, expected to return the capital with interest, that's another story). Now suddenly society is pressuring everyone to give, GIVE! And the ones who lead the chorus are the big corporations and the political leaders, those we least expect to be a source of selfless inspiration. But how can we argue? Giving is good, right? "Love your neighbor" is finally popular, so we should take what we can get and go with it, right? But I'm confused. What's motivating this instant generosity, and will it still be around once the tree comes down?
	We'd like to think the Christmas Spirit hangs around all year, but the evidence doesn't support that theory. The mass generosity of Christmas quickly disappears, and we're left with the usual post-holiday letdown. Abandoned by the Christmas Spirit. Now, I definitely believe in the Spirit, who motivates all loving activity, always. I just don't think the Christmas Spirit is that Spirit. The Christmas Spirit is our adult make-believe, which cheers us up like Santa cheers up the kids, but has no real (and enduring) substance. And I do think it's important to pull the fake beard off such "harmless" fantasies. Because I don't want to run after a (apparent) source for goodness that's going to disappear when the Christmas parade is over. And I don't want to model my giving on the kind of "generosity" that the Christmas Spirit inspires.
	Not all giving is generous. Giving can be very selfish. We can give out of a personal need to feel benevolent, or out of a desire for attention or appreciation. We can give publicly, to look good in the eyes of others. We can even give to exercise dominion over others. I've been reading a book by Noam Chomsky, "Deterring Democracy," in which he offers evidence that much of the "charitable" foreign aid doled out by our country is part of our national strategy to exercise economic influence worldwide. Our "generosity" establishes foreign markets for our exports, while also providing us with political footholds at strategic points around the globe. And the same kind of selfish "giving" can take place on the personal level. We see it everywhere, especially at this time of the year. So much of Christmas giving revolves around how it makes the GIVER feel. "Volunteering is such a REWARDING experience," or "I'll feel so GUILTY if I don't give something, or if I give less than they give me." And so many gifts have nothing to do with the desires or the needs of the recipient. Among the upper and middle classes, who NEEDS Christmas gifts at all? Yet unwanted STUFF is heaped under every tree, an absurd tribute to the virtue of generosity. And the giving is publicized to no end. Corporations, churches, and individuals all take advantage of the cultural tradition of Christmas giving to enhance their own public image. The bigger the gift, the better the spin. That's Christmas NEWS. And I don't even need to mention the expectation of reciprocity. It goes without saying that if we don't manage to anticipate and match the gifts others give us, then we OWE. And no one wants that. So we keep the gifts coming, even when we recognize that there's plenty of un-generous motivations hidden under the wrapping paper. To do otherwise would be to blaspheme against the Christmas Spirit--the unforgivable sin.
	Not that Christmas, even the whole season, is so deserving of such exhaustive treatment. I get a little annoyed, but then it's over for another year. What's important is the nature and source of REAL generosity. That there IS a Spirit of Love who visits more than once a year, who lives within and inspires us to something better than we see around Christmastime. We know what real love feels like. It responds to the needs we see in others, at the moment when we see them. Not because we need a 'benevolence fix' but because someone really needs help and we can help. Real love does not sound the trumpet and call the local news. Rather, the Spirit inspires generosity that isn't self-conscious, that doesn't "let the left hand know what the right hand is doing."(Mt 6.2-4) And such generosity has 'no strings attached.' Jesus taught his disciples to give to people without expecting repayment (Lk 6.34-35) and to invite people who CANNOT invite us in return (Lk 14.12-14). The 'give freely' I come back to again and again. This kind of giving looks very different from most of the giving at Christmas, because it's not something that we manufacture when tradition calls for it. It's not Christmas Spirit make-believe. Real generosity is an act of love inspired by the Spirit of God in us. And it can be truly selfless because it results, not from personal need or ambition, but from an overflowing fullness--the presence of God With Us.

	12/27
	Reading Chomsky's indictment of recent U.S. policy in Central America (and throughout the world during the Cold War) made me think of Dostoyevsky's Grand Inquisitor, from "The Brothers Karamazov." In this passage, the Inquisitor chastises Christ for having rejected the devil's third temptation: "all the kingdoms of the world" (Matthew's version).

	Why didst Thou reject that last gift? Hadst Thou accepted that last 
	counsel of the mighty spirit, Thou wouldst have accomplished all that
	man seeks on earth--that is, someone to worship, someone to keep his
	conscience, and some means of uniting all in one harmonious ant-heap,
	for the craving for universal unity is the third and last anguish of
	men. Mankind as a whole has always striven to organize a universal
	state. There have been many great nations with great histories, but the
	more highly they were developed the more unhappy they were, for they
	felt more acutely than other people the craving for worldwide union. The
	great conquerors, Timours and Ghenghis-Khans, whirled like hurricanes
	over the face of the earth striving to subdue its people, and they too
	were but the unconscious expression of the same craving for universal
	unity. Hadst Thou taken the world and Caesar's purple, Thou wouldst have
	founded the universal state and have given universal peace. For who can
	rule men if not he who holds their conscience and their bread in his
	hands? We have taken the sword of Caesar, and in taking it, of course,
	have rejected Thee and followed HIM.

	The Inquisitor speaks the truth, mostly. Only, Christ DID offer all that people seek on earth--someone worthy of worship, someone to obey in good conscience, and the means for universal unity. These human desires are good and holy, from God. And Christ did fulfill them--with himself. We only find this fulfillment, however, through faith. The experience of God's reality, the peace of his guidance, and unity with his people come only through faith. Which involves the self-emptying surrender to God that I've described before. So the Inquisitor isn't so far off when he later calls faith a heroic act; his fault is in believing that it's TOO heroic for run-of-the-mill human beings. He believes the masses aren't up to it, it's too much to ask of them. So he offers a Christ-substitute: a corporate power that seems worthy of worship, a propaganda that mollifies the conscience of its obedient members, and an illusion of unity. It's all a false show, but we can SEE it. For the sake of the "weak" no heroic faith is necessary, only gullibility and docility. We simply must swallow what we are fed. That's what the Inquisitor thinks most people want to do (as long as the taste is not too objectionable), and our institutional leaders seem to agree. They might brag with the Inquisitor (to Christ): "Thou art proud of Thine elect, but Thou hast only the elect, while we give rest to all."

	12/30
	The Inquisitor continues:

	And besides, how many of those elect, those mighty ones who could become 
	elect, have grown weary of waiting for Thee, and have tranferred and
	will transfer the powers of their spirit and the warmth of their heart
	to the other camp...

	It's as a warning to these "elect" that Dostoeysky dreams up his dreadful Inquisitor; and I think that's the right motivation. I have put a lot of criticism in these pages, much of it against "the established order." Hopefully, my motivation has been closer to that of Dostoyevsky, rather than that of Noam Chomsky. I don't want to start a war against capitalism, or government, or big business (or Christmas). I don't want to fight against society, or FOR it. I'd simply like to share something of the truth with those who would embrace the freedom it offers.
	Jesus said, "If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free."(Jn 8.31-32) Necessarily, discovery of some truth results in awareness of the lies that have previously hidden this truth. Or continue to hide it from the eyes of others. But this awareness should not shackle us to these lies in a desparate fight to eliminate them. That's not freedom. Instead, the truth frees us from the need to submit to those lies, defend them, and perpetuate them. And since the truth shows the nothingness of all lies, destroying those lies is also unnecessary. The truth truly frees us.
	So why mention lies at all? Why criticise falsehood?--To stay awake, and to help others stay awake. We can grow weary waiting for the Lord; waiting is not easy, and there's many temptations to fall into a worldly stupor. Many others see much to gain in our docile slumber. So warnings, like Kierkegaard's or Dostoyevsky's, are important. Not as part of a theoretical war against false dreams and those who cling to them, but to help people stay awake. Or to help people who are beginning to recognize the nightmare they are caught in and who want to wake up. So that "the powers of their spirit and the warmth of their heart" need not remain enslaved to a lie.
	"The truth will make you free." As we come into relation with the truth that is Christ, we no longer must submit to lies--but neither must we attack them. Actually, the best resistance we can offer against falsehood is non-participation. We need not obey the lie, and we need not wipe it from the face of the earth. It has no power over us. While we remain in the truth, we are free. Then our lives become an encouragement for others (and a warning), so we do not weary as we wait for the Lord.

	12/31
	These quotes from G.K. Chesterton's "Heretics" seem appropriate for New Year's Eve (while also describing a good attitude towards any of life's generous pleasures):

	Drink because you are happy, but never because you are miserable. Never 
	drink when you are wretched without it, or you will be like the grey-
	faced gin-drinker in the slum; but drink when you would be happy without 
	it, and you will be like the laughing peasant of Italy.

	Many of the most brilliant intellects of our time have urged us to [a] 
	self-conscious snatching at a rare delight. [They] said that we were all 
	under sentence of death, and the only course was to enjoy exquisite 
	moments simply for those moments' sake. ...It is the carpe diem 
	religion; but the carpe diem religion is not the religion of happy
	people, but of very unhappy people. Great joy does not gather the 
	rosebuds while it may; its eyes are fixed on the immortal rose which 
	Dante saw.

	1/3
	I closed out last year with these words from G.K. Chesterton's "Heretics": 

	Great joy does not gather the rosebuds while it may; 
	its eyes are fixed on the immortal rose which Dante saw.

As I've thought more about these lines, I've become more conscious of the true nature of joy. It has the nature of goodness, as a sharing of God's own nature. Thus true joy springs from an eternal source.
	I think this important truth is obscured in many of our "joyful" celebrations. A celebration or holiday should be the RESULT of some good in our lives, the EXPRESSION of a joy that springs (hopefully) from some very deep well. But often the holiday or celebration becomes for us the CAUSE for rejoicing. We anticipate and cling to the celebration, the holiday becomes exceedingly important, because it is a precious moment of happiness in a life that seems otherwise depressing. At least that's how it looks, especially during the holiday season. This season is seen as a crucial morale-booster, and when it's brief festivities are over, people are left in a funk. If there was truly something to be joyful about (besides the party itself), then the celebration would be a bonus, a brief expression of a joy that continues long after the streamers are swept away. Then celebration could be the enjoyable emotional release it's supposed to be. It could be the happy accessory to joy, because it doesn't have to be its source. Like a wedding reception: the newlyweds leave the party early, anticipating the lasting joy of a life together. Or like an ancient harvest festival: the celebration could be light-hearted, because the real joy was in the rich harvest that would sustain the community throughout the winter. Real joy does not need to grasp at brief pleasures "for their own sake," like a parched man straining for a drop of water. Because real joy has a real source, even an eternal source.
	Chesterton makes another interesting comment about joy at the end of his book "Orthodoxy." He writes, "Joy... is the gigantic secret of the Christian." And he emphasizes both 'gigantic' and 'secret,' even connecting the two in the life of Jesus:

	The tremendous figure which fills the Gospels towers in this respect, as 
	in every other, above all the thinkers who ever thought themselves tall. 
	His pathos was natural, almost casual. The Stoics, ancient and modern, 
	were proud of concealing their tears. He never concealed His tears; He 
	showed them plainly on His open face at any daily sight, such as the far 
	sight of His native city. Yet He concealed something. Solemn supermen 
	and imperial diplomatists are proud of restraining their anger. He never 
	restrained His anger. He flung furniture down the front steps of the 
	Temple, and asked men how they expected to escape the damnation of Hell. 
	Yet He restrained something. I say it with reverence; there was in that 
	shattering personality a thread that must be called shyness. There was 
	something that He hid from all men when He went up a mountain to pray. 
	There was something that He covered constantly by abrupt silence or 
	impetuous isolation. There was some one thing that was too great for God 
	to show us when He walked upon our earth; and I have sometimes fancied 
	that it was His mirth.

Jesus himself spoke of his own joy, and commended it to his disciples: "These things I have spoken to you, that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be full."(Jn 15.11) But it does seem that his joy was somehow restrained or hidden. That's odd.
	In movies, Jesus has often been characterized as stoic or solemn, but as Chesterton points out, that's a characterization of our own worldly ideals, not Jesus. Just as the recently popular image of a "laughing Jesus" is a characterization of our own ideal. Obviously, our ideals change. But Jesus did not conform to our ideals; he didn't try to impress us by hiding his grief or his anger, or by showing off his joy. All of these have been selling points for philosophers and religious leaders throughout history, and we continue to see them today. But Jesus demonstrated a grief and an anger that didn't need to be hidden, and a joy that didn't need to be paraded.
	That brings me back to the true nature of joy. Real joy doesn't NEED a celebration, it doesn't need to draw attention to itself, just as true grief doesn't need to be ashamed of itself and righteous anger doesn't need to suppress itself. (Of course, righteous anger doesn't forget about love, either; and true grief doesn't forget about hope, and real joy doesn't forget about praising God.) But, as Chesterton notes, expressions of joy are noticeably absent in the Gospel descriptions of Jesus' life, making it seem like he was HIDING his joy. Why? I like the suggestion that Jesus' joy was something primarily between him and his Father, best expressed in solitary prayer. And I also can believe that his joy was somehow too great to be publicly displayed. I can imagine a divine joy that might not be fitting for expression among sinful people. Or maybe Jesus wanted to avoid a serious misunderstanding; because the way to happiness is also the way of the cross. I have a feeling all these are hints about the truth. But I firmly believe that Jesus knew real joy, eternal joy, and that he IS the eternal source of joy for us. Also, I believe the more real our joy is, the more it will look like his.

	1/5
	I'm intrigued by this passage, which I think is often overlooked. It seems important as a warning, especially for "righteous" types: 

	Not everyone who says to me, "Lord, Lord," will enter the kingdom of
	heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. On
	that day many will say to me, "Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your
	name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your
	name?" And I will declare to them, "I never knew you; depart from me,
	you evildoers." (Mt 7.21-23)

	1/6
	Expanding on 'doing the will of the Father,' these lines appear in a little book called Theologia Germanica, written near the end of the 14th century by an anonymous Christian author:

	The will is not given to be exercised by the creature, but by God alone, 
	who has the right to carry into effect His own will by the will which is 
	in man, but yet is God's will. And in any man or creature, in whom it 
	should be thus, purely and simply, the will of that man or creature 
	would be exercised not by the man but by God, and thus it would not be 
	self-will, and the man would only will as God wills; for God Himself, 
	and not man, would be moving the will. 

I'm not sure if the author is thinking of animals also, when referring to creatures. But the universality of God's will comes across strongly. (Animals and the unconscious natural world have no choice about following God's will; but human beings can willfully resist--or let God's will move them through the surrender of faith.) 
	This isn't so interesting, left as an abstraction. But in the following passage, the author makes a good practical connection between self-will and proprietorship. As described above, 'self-will' means desire or intent OTHER than God intends, motivated by personal ambition rather than obedience. And 'proprietorship' is what many anarchists condemned under the name 'private property': "This is mine; I can do whatever I want with it."

	If there were no self-will, there would be no proprietorship. There is 
	no proprietorship in heaven; and this is why contentment, peace, and 
	blessedness are there. ...But in hell everyone will have self-will, and 
	therefore in hell is every kind of wretchedness and misery. And so it is 
	also on earth. ...For he who has anything, or who desires to have 
	anything of his own, is a slave; and he who has nothing of his own, nor 
	desires to have anything, is free and at liberty, and is in bondage to 
	no man.

	1/8
	Struggling with one of my periodic attacks of self-doubt this morning, I remembered this line from Chesterton's "Orthodoxy":

	A man was meant to be doubtful about himself, 
	but undoubting about the truth... 

He was lamenting that this is often reversed. We doubt that there is any clear truth, or doubt our ability to know the truth, and so conveniently avoid being challenged or convicted by that truth. This has become even more common in 'post-modern' times, and with the overwhelming emphasis on self-esteem. Doubting our beliefs is considered commendable, a healthy intellectual modesty, while doubting ourselves is considered unhealthy. But I stand with Chesterton on this one. I know that I don't always live up to the truth I see (or write). If I denounce myself (repent), my self-confidence may suffer but my confidence in God's truth remains unshaken, and I'm one step closer to that truth. But if I denounce the truth for the sake of my self-esteem, I condemn myself to wandering in an empty desert. With no pillar of fire.
	----------

	I found an interesting article last night in the New Yorker. It was written by John Cassidy about Friedrich August von Hayek, a Nobel prize-winning economist from Austria. Hayek promoted capitalism, and condemned state socialism (such as Soviet Communism; I have no argument with him there). What is interesting is his focus on the free market as a means of communication: 

	"We must look at the price system as... a mechanism for communicating 
	information if we want to understand its real function," [Hayek] wrote 
	in a 1945 paper, "The Use of Knowledge in Society." In a market system, 
	people simply go out and buy the things they like, leaving unwanted 
	goods on the shelves. If they want more of something--say, heating oil--
	it becomes scarce and its price rises, thereby prompting oil companies 
	to increase production and consumers to economize. If people decide to 
	use less oil, say, because natural gas has become cheaper, the price of 
	oil will fall, and its production will be scaled back [while natural gas 
	production increases]--all this taking place without orders being issued 
	by a government agency. "I am convinced that if it were the result of 
	deliberate human design, and if the people guided by the price changes 
	understood that their decisions have significance far beyond their 
	immediate aim, this mechanism would have been acclaimed as one of the 
	greatest triumphs of the human mind."

I think anyone can appreciate such an ingenious "mechanism" for coordinating producers and consumers. Of course, this aspect of capitalism is not the one usually attacked. Unjust distribution of wealth is generally seen as the problem. But I like Hayek's presentation. He admires the communication-aspect of capitalism, while admitting that it's NOT a "triumph of the human mind."
	He writes, "IF it were the result of deliberate human design...." Meaning it's not. Hayek understood capitalism as the result of an unplanned "evolutionary" process. In his book "The Fatal Conceit" (1988), Hayek observed that society had "stumbled upon" capitalism as an extremely effective method of coordinating human activity. It wasn't the result of deliberate human design; economists just realized that it was working. It developed 'unconsciously,' and (with the possible exception of Alan Greenspan and the Fed) it operates unconsciously. That's implied when Hayek writes, "and IF the people guided by the price changes understood that their decisions have significance far beyond their immediate aim...." Meaning they don't. Producers and consumers aren't consciously trying to communicate so production will be appropriate for society's needs. Both are simply pursuing their own best interests. We may have "stumbled upon" a good means of communication, an economy that 'works,' but that doesn't reflect any credit upon us. And it doesn't mean our participation in it is good.
	This makes me think of the December 17th journal entry: "Ambition must be made to counteract ambition." It seems that capitalism is the (latest) economic version of this. Though producers and consumers may all be self-serving, they end up providing a crucial community service. Parties who are all seeking to increase their own wealth become the communication network required to coordinate production. Thus a good effect results, even though the people involved aren't necessarily 'doing good.' That looks to me like the work of Providence. Capitalism is driven by selfish ambitions (the aspect denounced by moralists), yet the ambitions counteract one other in a way that benefits society (the aspect lauded by economists). That's good for us; but not good done BY us. We are still condemned for our greed, our clinging to private property ('proprietorship' from yesterday), and our disregard of our neighbor in need. And, as Hayek points out, we can't even take credit for the effectiveness of our capitalist economy. It works for the same reason our politics works: because GOD makes ambition counteract ambition for the good of all.

	[I later found this, in an article on capitalism: "Within the system of free trade, as Adam Smith put it most famously, the individual 'intends only his own gain, and he is, in this, as in many other cases, led by an invisible hand to promote an end which was no part of his intention.'"]

	1/9
	This passage from Melville's "Moby Dick" reminded me of the November 13 and 15 journal entries. About boredom, empty time, nothingness. He says basically the same thing about the torture of "conscious sitting-with-the-hands-folded" (Dostoyevsky's phrase), and seems to make a similar connection with the fear of death. But his imagery is so much better:

    "The circumstance was this. I had been cutting up some caper or other--I think it was trying to crawl up the chimney, as I had seen a little sweep do a few days previous; and my stepmother who, somehow or other, was all the time whipping me, or sending me to bed supperless,--my mother dragged me by the legs out of the chimney and packed me off to bed, though it was only two o'clock in the afternoon of the 21st June, the longest day in the year in our hemisphere. I felt dreadfully. But there was no help for it, so up stairs I went to my little room in the third floor, undressed myself as slowly as possible so as to kill time, and with a bitter sigh got between the sheets.
    "I lay there dismally calculating that sixteen entire hours must elapse before I could hope for a resurrection. Sixteen hours in bed! the small of my back ached to think of it. And it was so light too; the sun shining in at the window, and a great rattling of coaches in the streets, and the sound of gay voices all over the house. I felt worse and worse--at last I got up, dressed, and softly going down in my stockinged feet, sought out my stepmother, and suddenly threw myself at her feet, beseeching her as a particular favor to give me a good slippering for my misbehaviour: anything indeed but condemning me to lie abed such an unendurable length of time. But she was the best and most conscientious of stepmothers, and back I had to go to my room. For several hours I lay there broad awake, feeling a great deal worse than I have ever done since, even from the greatest subsequent misfortunes. At last I must have fallen into a troubled nightmare of a doze; and slowly waking from it--half steeped in dreams--I opened my eyes, and the before sunlit room was now wrapped in outer darkness. Instantly I felt a shock running through all my frame; nothing was to be seen, and nothing was to be heard; but a supernatural hand seemed placed in mine. My arm hung over the counterpane [bedspread], and the nameless, unimaginable, silent form or phantom, to which the hand belonged, seemed closely seated by my bed-side. For what seemed ages piled on ages, I lay there, frozen with the most awful fears, not daring to drag away my hand; yet ever thinking that if I could but stir it one single inch, the horrid spell would be broken. I knew not how this consciousness at last glided away from me; but waking in the morning, I shudderingly remembered it all, and for days and weeks and months afterwards I lost myself in confounding attempts to explain the mystery. Nay, to this very hour, I often puzzle myself with it."
	----------

	Excerpts from Father Mapple's stirring sermon on the story of Jonah ("Moby Dick" again):
	
	In this world, shipmates, sin that pays its way can travel freely and 
	without a passport; whereas Virtue, if a pauper, is stopped at all 
	frontiers.

	...when the word of the Lord came a second time... Jonah did the 
	Almighty's bidding. And what was that, shipmates? To preach the Truth to 
	the face of Falsehood! That was it!
	    This, shipmates, this is that other lesson; and woe to that pilot of 
	the living God [preacher] who slights it. Woe to him whom this world 
	charms from Gospel duty! Woe to him who seeks to pour oil upon the 
	waters when God has brewed them into a gale! Woe to him who seeks to 
	please rather than to appall! Woe to him whose good name is more to him 
	than goodness! Woe to him who, in this world, courts not dishonor! Woe 
	to him who would not be true, even though to be false were salvation!  
	Yea, woe to him who as the great Pilot Paul has it, while preaching to 
	others is himself a castaway!

	Delight,--top-gallant delight is to him, who acknowledges no law or 
	lord, but the Lord his God, and is only a patriot to heaven. Delight is
	to him, whom all the waves of the billows of the seas of the boisterous 
	mob can never shake from this sure Keel of the Ages.

	1/10
	I remember this passage from the last time I read "Moby Dick," waiting on a far off Virginia shore for the Navy to have done with me. That was just over five years ago. 

	Glimpses do ye seem to see of that mortally intolerable truth; that all 
	deep, earnest thinking is but the intrepid effort of the soul to keep 
	the open independence of her sea; while the wildest winds of heaven and 
	earth conspire to cast her on the treacherous, slavish shore?
	
	But as in landlessness alone resides the highest truth, 
		shoreless, 
		indefinite as God--
	so better is it to perish in that howling infinite, 
		than be ingloriously dashed upon the lee, 
		even if that were safety!

	1/13

	...few men's courage is proof against protracted 
	meditation unrelieved by action...

	Melville again, who seems to exactly describe my present situation: protracted meditation unrelieved by action. At times, it seems harder now than when I'm on the road. Harder to stay alert and focused, harder to stay awake. Walking and on the lookout for shelter and conversation, I have emotion and adrenaline to jar me. They help keep my attention fixed on the present, where God is. Now, it takes conscious effort to keep from drifting into a lethargy that is far from courageous. I remind myself of Jesus' words:

	Let your loins be girded and your lamps burning, and be like men who are
	waiting for their master to come home from the marriage feast, so that
	they may open to him at once when he comes and knocks. Blessed are those
	servants whom the master finds awake when he comes... (Lk 12.35-37)

Another reference to 'waiting for the Lord' (and the burning lamps make me think of prayer). I think it's easy to dismiss these words as an admonition about a far-off future. But the Spirit is present now; and Jesus often knocks. We can't expect to suddenly awake at the crucial moment, we have to STAY awake--ready for action when there is no action. 

	1/15

	Lord, you have assigned me my portion and cup;
		you have made my lot secure.
		The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
		surely I have a delightful inheritance. (Ps 16.5-6; NIV)

	I came across these lines this morning, then read Matthew 10.39 again: "He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for my sake will find it." I've pondered that verse often during the last year, but it looked different today, as I had just read that Psalm and was feeling especially thankful. I've focused so much on the 'losing' of our life, the surrender of faith. And that IS true--the key, really. But I don't think I've made it clear enough that this surrender of self is not the END of the self. This is no Buddhist annihilation. "He who loses his life for my sake will find it"--will find "it," meaning not just A life, or life-in-general, but HIS life, THAT PERSON'S life. It's a purified life, life "in Christ," but it's still US. All that is good and holy in us is protected and preserved and purified by God's love. We surrender all, letting go of our self--even all that we cherish as good in ourselves. But it is not lost. God created all that is good in us, and God knows us through and through (just a few verses earlier in Matthew, we read that he knows every hair on our head). So we can trust that the life we 'find' through faith is truly OUR life, given back to us by God. Only better. It is true that, to continue in faith, everything we do must be an act of obedience, but this is obedience to a Father who knows our deepest needs and gifts and desires, a Father who wants to develop these and bring them to fruition. So what we discover through the death-like surrender of faith is... our true self--the beautiful, UNIQUE life God gives to each of us. And we recognize that our obedience is no burdensome "duty," but rather the fulfillment of our deepest self. Then we can sing with the psalmist, "The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance."

	1/16
	Another turbulent conversation has finally convinced me to address the Apostle Paul's teaching about work and earning a living. Several people have referred to him from time to time, when I talk about 'giving freely' vs. asking for payment, or when I criticize capitalism. Paul's work as a tentmaker is often raised as an objection. Not that Paul's life is the measure of perfection--I think most Christians accept JESUS' life as the one we are to imitate. But I think the life and teachings of Paul often have not been presented fairly or clearly, and that's part of the problem. Also, the discussion may clarify my own thinking on this topic, and help me emphasize what's really important.
	I'll start with the most difficult passage, 2 Thessalonians 3.6-12:

	Now we command you, brethren, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that
	you keep away from any brother who is living in idleness and not in
	accord with the tradition that you received from us. For you yourselves
	know how you ought to imitate us; we were not idle when we were with
	you, we did not eat any one's bread without paying, but with toil and
	labor we worked night and day, that we might not burden any of you. It
	was not because we have not that right, but to give you in our conduct
	and example to imitate. For even when we were with you, we gave you this
	command: If any one will not work, let him not eat. For we hear that 
	some of you are living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work.
	Now such persons we command and exhort in the Lord Jesus Christ to do
	their work in quietness and to earn their own living.

Clearly, the emphasis here is against those "living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work." This is right. We SHOULD work, using our talents, and being creative, not just "busy." I think that's the real message of this passage, and I completely support it. But Paul says several things in his argument against idleness that can (and have been) applied in other ways. "We did not eat any one's bread without paying"; "If any one will not work, let him not eat"; "Now such persons we command... to earn their own living"; these lines can be combined to defend a capitalist economy. And, I don't know, maybe Paul did have something like that in mind as a remedy for idleness. If he did, I must disagree. I think there are other remedies for idleness that do not carry with them such serious side effects, such as cutting off those who, for one reason or another, cannot pay for the bread they need. But Paul might not have intended to lay the groundwork for a capitalist economy (he's talking about IDLENESS here). Certainly, many other passages from his letters have been used as biblical justifications for horrible abuses (specifically his words about the Jews, slaves, and women); and these are usually misrepresentations of Paul's thought. For a fuller picture, we need to look at more of Paul's letters, and the life he lived.
	Some of the things Paul mentions in that last passage also appear in other places, where he's not writing about idleness. His reference to working "night and day, that we might not burden any of you," also appears in his first letter to the Thessalonians (2.9). (And Acts 18.3 tells of his work with other tentmakers.) I already acknowledged that creative work is a good thing, and I will also readily support 'not wanting to burden others.' But, again, working and avoiding being a burden on others does not require a free market economy where everyone has to pay for what they receive. For example: we can keep from being a burden by minimizing our own consumption, living more economically, or by not pressuring others to pay our way. 'Not being a burden' is good, but if people are sharing with us freely, we CAN accept without being "burdens." Paul makes another interesting comment in that same letter (1 Th 4.11-12):

	Aspire to live quietly, to mind your own affairs, and to work with your
	hands, as we charged you; so that you may command the respect of
	outsiders, and be dependent on nobody.

"Be dependent on nobody" is quickly snapped up as the battle cry of economic individualism. Everyone is expected to pay their own way, thus "depending" on no one else. Again, I'm not sure whether Paul would support that position or not--but I'm sure I don't. We are ALWAYS dependent on others; we simply CANNOT survive without the help of others. We only deceive ourselves when we attempt to use dollar bills to convince everyone that we are independent. Inter-dependence is a fact of life, and a very good and holy gift of God. Jesus himself clearly lived a inter-dependent life. He was constantly provided with food from other people's tables and shelter under other people's roofs (and he taught his disciples to do the same: Mt 10.8-11, which contains that beautiful command, "You received without paying, give without pay"). Jesus preached and lived a radical DEPENDENCE on God, who met all his needs through others. Just as God meets OUR needs through others.
	But back to Paul. As much as we hear about Paul working to 'pay his own way,' that was not always the case. Often he writes about gathering money at churches to support other churches, and sometimes part of that support was paying HIS way (2 Cor 11.8-9):

	I robbed other churches by accepting support from them in order to serve
	you. And when I was with you and was in want, I did not burden any one,
	for my needs were supplied by the brethren who came from Macedonia. So I
	refrained and will refrain from burdening you in any way.

Here we see Paul 'not burdening' in the same way Jesus did. Some people gave freely to him, so he could give freely to others. Especially when it came to preaching the gospel, 'giving freely' was very important to Paul. I think that's what made him so obviously uncomfortable about receiving anything from the people he was preaching to. He often defended the preacher's "right" to expect help from the congregation, but Paul wanted the gospel to be free of charge. This is demonstrated in 1 Corinthians 9. First Paul reiterates the preacher's "rights," then:

	But I have made no use of these rights, nor am I writing to secure any
	such provision. For I would rather die than have any one deprive me of
	my ground for boasting. ...What then is my reward? Just this: that in my
	preaching I may make the gospel free of charge... (1 Cor 9.15,18)

Boasting aside, I think Paul's got it exactly right here. The important thing is, not paying your own way, not independence, but being able to give freely (and in Paul's case the gift is the highest: the gospel). Earning money by selling our services is one way to be able to give freely; and perhaps Paul did encourage this and do this himself. But this method requires us to NOT give freely to some people (our customers) so that we CAN give freely to others. Plus there are other objections against requiring payment from others for our services (Jesus himself raised them; for example, Lk 6.33-35, and Lk 14.12-14). But is there any other way? Paul himself demonstrated another way: Accepting help from those who want to give freely to us enables us to give freely to others. That way, ALL our human interactions are guided by the generosity of love and ALL witness to our common dependence on each other and, ultimately, on God. Not surprisingly, Jesus lived just like this. And for those who worry that living this way won't provide the necessities of life, Jesus said, "Look at the birds and the lilies."(Mt 6.25-33) 
	I keep shifting from Paul to Jesus, but I don't think Paul would mind. I will conclude, however, with Paul's words about the ideal form of (Christian) society, where we give when others are in need, and accept when we are in need. Where we don't worry about 'getting paid' or 'paying our own way' or becoming rich, but imitate Christ, who was willing to become poor so that we all might receive his riches:

	For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was 
	rich, yet for your sake he became poor, so that by his poverty you might
	become rich. [...Here Paul mentions a donation the Corinthians had
	apparently promised for another church...] I do not mean that others 
	should be eased and you burdened, but that as a matter of equality your 
	abundance at the present time should supply their want, so that their 
	abundance may supply your want, that there may be equality. As it is 
	written, "He who gathered much had nothing over, and he who gathered 
	little had no lack." (2 Cor 8.8-9,13-15)

Note that Paul is not talking about heaven here, or just addressing the clergy. This is to a whole community, on earth (and it sounds much like the real, earthly community described in Acts 2.44-47 and 4.32-35). Those whose creative work has produced some abundance are encouraged to give freely to those who are in need. They give what they can give, and they receive what God provides for them through their own work and the gifts of others. No payment required. This describes a 'give freely' community, which does not necessarily result in idleness or anyone being "burdened." These problems MAY arise, so we need to hear Paul's warnings. But warnings are not a model for goodness. Jesus is our model for goodness; and his life clearly showed us the way.

	1/18
	O Nature, and O soul of man! 
	how far beyond all utterance are your linked analogies;
	not the smallest atom stirs or lives on matter, 
	but has its cunning duplicate in mind.

	So says Ahab. And I think that's true. There's an intricate symbolism in nature that gives us innumerable clues for our spiritual life. Melville was obviously interested in the way symbols reveal inner truths. His masterpiece, "Moby Dick," is packed with powerful symbolism. Yet Melville (through his narrator) expressed worry that his story would be taken as "a monstrous fable, or still worse and more detestable, a hideous and intolerable allegory." Even though "Moby Dick" was fiction, Melville tried to keep it as close to reality as possible, so that his symbols would be REAL, not contrived. Anyone can invent a symbol and assign it some arbitrary meaning (why should a red octagon mean 'stop'?). Real symbols, however, are not invented; they are DISCOVERED. Nature symbolism, for example (such as sleep/night/winter/death). Real symbols speak to the universal human experience, providing a universal language. Like nature, they are gifts of God. So it's not surprising that real symbols reflect something of God's nature: powerful, timeless, deep.
	Much of the satisfaction I expressed in the entry on the 15th has to do with my discovery of real symbolism in pilgrimage. I've mentioned this before. From the first days on the road, I began to see that much of my 'preaching' would have to occur silently, through the symbolism of pilgrimage. That disappointed me, a little. But then, slowly, I realized that this symbolism could be even more powerful (and more universal) than words. And it allows a continual preaching, rather than isolated speaking events. This coincides with St. Francis's advice: "Preach always, and if you need to, use words."

	1/19
	I've noticed that much of the real symbolism of pilgrimage appears in the story of Israel's Exodus from Egypt, that grand Biblical pilgrimage. That story holds a central place in Jewish life, as the origin of the seder meal, and as a model of faith. References to the Exodus are sung throughout the Psalms. But this pilgrimage story is not just for the Jews. It's often referred to in the New Testament as well; and it is the source of many of the best-known Sunday school stories. So I thought I'd look at some of the major (real) symbols in the Exodus story, highlighting the pilgrimage themes and offering some possible connections to the spiritual life.
	The first powerful symbol I want to look at is the crossing of the Red Sea. The story appears in Exodus 14 and 15 (14.29-31 quoted here):

	The people of Israel walked on dry ground through the sea, the waters
	being a wall to them on their right hand and on their left. Thus the 
	Lord saved Israel that day from the hand of the Egyptians; and Israel
	saw the Egyptians dead upon the seashore. And Israel saw the great work
	which the Lord did against the Egyptians, and the people feared the 
	Lord; and they believed in the Lord and in his servant Moses.

As the Israelites come up against the Red Sea, it stands as a frontier, a line of demarcation: here slavery ends; here security ends; the freedom of the wilderness is beyond. Yet this is not a fence to be hopped over. It is a vast sea; and at first it appears to the end of Israel. They find themselves caught between Pharaoh's army and the sea, between death and death. That's part of the real symbolism here: the sea signifying death. Often water is a symbol of life. But here--a CUP of water may symbolize life, but a SEA of water symbolizes death. As it is often presented in "Moby Dick," the sea is violent, merciless, unfathomable, cold and dark. All of us have likely experienced being submerged and airless for several long seconds. Even that short time is enough to assure us that water can mean death; we gasp with relief upon breaking its surface. And because the sea serves well to symbolize death, we see it in other Bible stories as well. The flood wreaks God's vengeance on a wicked earth. Jonah sinks in the violent sea for his disobedience. And if we are still unsure of the death symbolism contained in the wide Red Sea, we need only gaze again at the lifeless bodies washed up along its shore.
	Yet the Red Sea does not prove to be the death of the Israelites; instead, they pass THROUGH the sea. Believing in the Lord, the people of God passed through death. I see this as the most important use of symbolism in this story. God's people passing through death, out of slavery into freedom, symbolizes FAITH. As the author of the letter to the Hebrews recalls: "By FAITH the people crossed the Red Sea as if on dry land; but the Egyptians, when they attempted to do the same, were drowned."(Heb 11.29) I've already written much on faith as the 'death' of self, the most radical spiritual self-surrender. So I think it will be obvious how well the through-the-sea symbolism serves to communicate the reality of faith. I'll only add the connection to baptism. The passing-through-water of baptism is also a symbolic death, indicating faith. It also reminds us of Jesus, who didn't just symbolize faith, but lived perfect faith in his ACTUAL passage through death. Paul writes to the Colossians, "You were buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the working of God, who raised him from the dead."(2.12) And when Paul talks about baptism in the same way in Romans 6, he also connects this death with a freedom from the slavery of sin. As the Israelites escaped from Egypt, passing through the depth of the Red Sea, we also escape slavery as we continually pass through death by faith.
	But let me make this more concrete. I believe the symbolic 'message' is true, but it's nothing compared to the reality of all those human beings, threatened with death by soldiers and the towering water, then miraculously set free. Trembling, they cry with joy on the far bank. That's the reality of faith. And that's what I want to symbolize on pilgrimage. Of course there's no chariots or walls of water, but I think the through-death-to-freedom of faith can be symbolized in other ways, maybe a bit less dramatic. The Israelites didn't just take a walk through the sea; they left the security of their homes for the uncertainty of the wilderness (as they often reminded Moses later, with much complaining). Such letting-go is also a symbol of death. And THAT symbolism IS a part of pilgrimage--without the Hollywood flash of waters being parted, but still pretty effective. People NOTICE the self-stripping of pilgrimage (leaving income, home, community); they FEEL the reality of the sacrifice. And it's also hard to miss the resulting freedom. So at least part of the Red Sea symbolism appears concretely in pilgrimage, offering an instant, deep impression of the meaning of faith.

	1/20
	The next major symbol is described right after the Red Sea story; the Israelites called it "manna." Exodus 16.13-21:

	...In the morning dew lay round about the camp. And when the dew had 
	gone up, there was on the face of the wilderness a fine, flake-like 
	thing, fine as hoarfrost on the ground. When the people of Israel saw 
	it, they said to one another, "What is it?" For they did not know what 
	it was. And Moses said to them, "It is the bread which the LORD has 
	given you to eat. This is what the LORD has commanded: 'Gather of it, 
	every man of you, as much as he can eat; you shall take an omer apiece, 
	according to the number of the persons whom each of you has in his 
	tent.'" And the people of Israel did so; they gathered, some more, some 
	less. But when they measured it with an omer, he that gathered much had 
	nothing over, and he that gathered little had no lack; each gathered 
	according to what he could eat. And Moses said to them, "Let no man 
	leave any of it till the morning." But they did not listen to Moses; 
	some left part of it till the morning, and it bred worms and became 
	foul; and Moses was angry with them. Morning by morning they gathered 
	it, each as much as he could eat; but when the sun grew hot, it melted. 

	The first thing that stands out is the wonder of this miraculous bread. "What is it?" the people ask. We know bread; it's a very common and powerful symbol of life. But this bread seems unusual because it is given directly by God, who rains it down as dew. This bread seems to come right down from heaven. But is this so unusual? All of our food comes 'from heaven,' really. The sun beams down, the rain descends, feeding all the earth's vegetation; which then feeds us, as well as all the animals that also feed us. We acknowledge that God provides for all living things, yet the symbolism of manna makes this reality even more apparent. Manna becomes the perfect symbol of bread, food, sustenance.
	Yet there are also other characteristics of this symbol that we notice immediately. It is distributed fairly, according to need. "He that gathered much had nothing over, and he that gathered little had no lack." There has perhaps never been a more just distribution of resources in all the communities and economies that followed. Not surprisingly, Paul recalled this aspect of the manna symbolism when advising the Corinthians about sharing their goods with others (as I pointed out in the entry on the 16th; 2 Cor 8.13-15). The other characteristic we notice is the perishability of the bread from heaven. It lasted only one day (except on the Sabbath). We are, of course, familiar with the perishability of food; most edibles have a very limited shelf-life. But the manna exaggerates this aspect, prohibiting any hoarding, and causing the people of Israel to look to their providing God every single day. It anticipates Jesus' prayer: "Give us this day our daily bread." And we should notice that all the characteristics of the manna are inter-dependent. God gives the bread generously, so the people are encouraged to distribute it justly, according to need, and not hoard. And the bread's perishability makes it impossible to hoard, encouraging sharing and continual dependence on God.
	Overall, I think the manna symbolism shows the right way to handle all material goods. So that's something I also want to symbolize on pilgrimage. True, I've got no hoarfrost bread. But there is the daily dependence on God for food (not asking anyone, just waiting for God to move someone to offer). And when you carry only one small bag, there's little opportunity for hoarding. Plus there's the conscientious objection against an economic system that RESISTS a just distribution of material goods (the poor must always be enticed by wealth, but remain relatively poor, to maintain the profit margins of the wealthy). So pilgrimage symbolizes some of the same truths that God showed us through the manna. In a momentary image, it silently preaches Jesus' words:

	Do not be anxious, saying, "What will we eat?" or "What will we drink?"
	or "What will we wear?" For the Gentiles seek all these things; and your
	heavenly Father knows that you need them all. But seek first his kingdom
	and his righteousness, and all these things will be yours as well.
	(Mt 6.31-33)

And: "Freely have you received, freely give." (Mt 10.8)

	1/21
	The third Exodus symbol I want to look at, the pillar of cloud and fire, actually appears before the Red Sea crossing, in Exodus 13 (21-22):

	The Lord went before them by day in a pillar of cloud to lead them along
	the way, and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, that they
	might travel by day and by night; the pillar of cloud by day and the
	pillar of fire by night did not depart from before the people.

Here, the cloud and fire obviously symbolize the presence of God. This is real symbolism, nature symbolism again. Fire and mist are visible and active but not solid; we perceive them moving, but cannot grasp them. So they serve well as symbols of a living, spiritual being. And both are also used in other Biblical stories to indicate the presence of God: the burning bush, Mt. Sinai, the transfiguration. Thus the mysterious pillar symbolizes that this people is led by God.
	And the behavior of the pillar further emphasizes that God is LEADING:

	Whenever the cloud was taken up from over the tent, after that the
	people of Israel set out; and in the place where the cloud settled down,
	there the people of Israel encamped. At the command of the Lord the 
	people of Israel set out, and at the command of the Lord they encamped;
	as long as the cloud rested over the tabernacle, they remained in camp.
	...Whether it was two days, or a month, or a longer time, that the cloud
	continued over the tabernacle, abiding there, the people of Israel
	remained in the camp and did not set out; but when it was taken up they
	set out. (Num 9.17-18,22)

The pillar led them along the way, and signaled when to camp and when to proceed. That's leadership. The pillar also protected them, holding off the Egyptians until the Red Sea opened (Ex 14.19-20). Even the laws for this people came out of the cloud and fire, which crowned Mt. Sinai (Ex 19.16-18). The symbolism points to God as sole leader. Moses may have stood before the people, but they clearly understood that he was only a mouthpiece, given because they feared the direct voice of God (Ex 20.18-19). At this point, God was the only leader of Israel--it would be many years before they asked for a king.
	I think this symbolism can still speak to us today, though we are overwhelmed by leaders. Politicians pack our capitols, and countless corporate leaders claim our allegiance with equal (or greater) power. But each of us knows the feeling of being lost and vulnerable, needing guidance and protection. That common, powerful need keeps the politicians in business (and the businessmen in politics). And yet we are continually dissatisfied with our leaders. The pillar symbolizes a better way. Not that the people of Israel consistently modeled this 'way'; there was plenty for Jesus to improve upon ("You have heard that it was said... but I say to you..." Mt 5.21-48). But just as the Israelites followed the pillar, so Jesus also followed the leadership of God alone. And just as God ruled Israel with authority in whatever land they occupied, so Jesus also recognized the authority of God above every local ruler:

	[Pilate] entered the praetorium again and said to Jesus, "Where are you
	from?" But Jesus gave no answer. Pilate therefore said to him, "You will
	not speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you, and
	power to crucify you?" Jesus answered him, "You would have no power over
	me unless it had been given you from above..." (Jn 19.9-11)

There are also plenty of us today who say (if not in words, then in actions), "We have no king but Caesar!"(Jn 19.15) So we still have much to learn from the symbolism of the cloud and the fire.
	Again, this is something I also want to symbolize on pilgrimage. And again, I've got no visible flaming pillar floating before me. But just as God provided the Israelites (and Jesus) with guidance and justice and protection so they didn't need earthly rulers for these things, so also God provides guidance and justice and protection on pilgrimage. Peace despite vulnerability indicates that there IS a pillar ahead. Only it takes faith to see it. Also, as with the manna symbolism, there's a conscientious objection as part of the pillar symbolism. But here it's political: against self-serving rulers who capitalize on the fears of the people. It is a fearful people that begs for a protector and judge, who will levy taxes and fill prisons and conscript armies. The faithful pilgrim, on the other hand, like the faithful Israelite, believes in the just and merciful leadership of God, and is not tempted to ask for a king. Instead, the symbolism of pilgrimage quietly points to the one worthy Ruler, whose kingship is "not of this world."(Jn 18.36)

	1/22
	The last Exodus symbols I want to look at require some introduction. Jump ahead to the border of Canaan, just over two years after the escape from Egypt (most of that time being spent in camp at Sinai). Israelite scouts return from a forty-day survey, and all but two of them (Joshua and Caleb) report that the land is heavily fortified and full of giant warriors. The people immediately despair of God's leadership (highlighted in yesterday's entry):

	Then all the congregation raised a loud cry; and the people wept that
	night. And all the people of Israel murmured against Moses and Aaron; 
	the whole congregation said to them, "Would that we had died in the land
	of Egypt! Or would that we had died in this wilderness! Why does the 
	Lord bring us into this land, to fall by the sword? Our wives and our
	little ones will become prey; would it not be better for us to go back
	to Egypt?" And they said to one another, "Let us choose a captain and go
	back to Egypt." (Num 14.1-4)

This was the same wail that Moses heard on the edge of the Red Sea, and again every time food or water seemed scarce. Note how his reply recalls the pillar symbolism:

	"Do not be in dread or afraid of them. The Lord your God who goes before
	you will himself fight for you, just as he did for you in Egypt before
	your eyes, and in the wilderness, where you have seen how the Lord your
	God bore you, as a man bears his son, in all the way that you went until
	you came to this place." Yet in spite of this you did not believe the
	Lord your God, who went before you in the way to seek you out a place to
	pitch your tents, in fire by night, to show you by what way you should
	go, and in the cloud by day. (Deut 1.29-33)

The manna symbolism may also be suggested here ("the Lord your God bore you, as a man bears his son"), but I think the most important connection is with the Red Sea symbolism. There, the Israelites passed through death into freedom, by faith. Here, lacking faith, they fear death so much that they turn back towards the slavery of Egypt. And instead of being delivered from death, they condemn themselves to a death in exile:

	"As I live," says the Lord, "what you have said in my hearing I will do
	to you: your dead bodies shall fall in this wilderness; and of all of
	your number, numbered from twenty years old and upward, not one shall
	come into this land where I swore that I would make you dwell, except
	Caleb the son of Jephunneh and Joshua the son of Nun. But your little
	ones, who you said would become a prey, I will bring in, and they shall
	know the land which you have despised. But as for you, your dead bodies
	shall fall in this wilderness." (Num 14.28-32)

The author of Deuteronomy describes what happened next: "Then we turned, and journeyed into the wilderness in the direction of the Red Sea..."(Deut 2.1)
	That's enough introduction. The symbols I'm interested in are: the wanderer and the pilgrim. We often hear of Israel's 40 years of wandering in the desert, but we should remember that most of that resulted from their own faithless choice. Really, before they turned back from Canaan they were pilgrims: on pilgrimage to Sinai, then on pilgrimage directly to the promised land. They didn't become wanderers until they rebelled against God's leadership. After that, they were 'doing time' on the road. A lifetime of aimlessness. All because they forgot their faith; they forgot the Red Sea.
	The Red Sea symbolizes faith, and faith separates the pilgrim from the wanderer. Both are on a journey, which is itself a real, natural symbol. We have all experienced journeys, and are familiar with nomadic tribes, animal migrations, and other natural travelings. But pilgrimage is different from wandering. And it's not that the pilgrim has a destination in mind; the destination may not be known (Abraham didn't know; Moses didn't know). The difference is that pilgrimage is a journey of obedience. True pilgrimage is obedience to God. That's what gives true pilgrimage its absolute value; and that's why faith is required (if pilgrimage is to be true). It takes faith to recognize God's leading, to see the possibilities where, humanly, no possibilities can be seen. And we have to see the possibility before we can even contemplate taking the next step. Faith sees the fiery pillar; the pilgrim's feet obediently follow. Faith sees the way through the sea; the pilgrim's feet cross on dry ground.
	A pilgrim is often used to symbolize the Christian life. But the reality is that most lives are better represented by the wanderer. The faith to trust God for our food and shelter; the faith to give freely to others; the faith to turn the other cheek; the faith to suffer for the truth; these are not readily apparent most of the time in our lives. Instead, we aimlessly chase shifting desires, and are driven one way then the other by the fear-mongers. The rich and powerful use us like pawns (and are themselves the pawns of others), because we are easily moved. And this goes on and on until our dead bodies fall in the wilderness. That's not pilgrimage.
	Pilgrimage is living by faith. Not just a moment of faith, but a series of moments, strung together in a living existence. Not just a step but a journey. This doesn't mean that to live by faith we must literally take to the road; but actual pilgrimage does offer the perfect symbolism to preach faithful living (recall Abraham, Moses, Jesus, Paul). The pilgrim's journey symbolizes the time-aspect of faith, reminding us that one great act of faith does not make a faithful life--faith is a lived continuum. We can't cross the Red Sea once, then threaten to turn back every time our food runs low, or we come up against fortified cities and giant warriors. We must follow God's leading through the sea again and again. Every time his providence is doubted, every time his leadership is challenged, we must take another obedient step through death by faith. We must walk our whole pilgrimage between those towering walls of water, with chariots at our heels. But if we don't forget where we are, if we don't forget faith, then the reality of God's love will deliver us to freedom with every step of our walk. We will see the manna all around us; we will see the pillar of fire that goes before us. And we will feel God himself carrying us "as a man bears his son," to that far shore--our promised home.
	----------

P.S. One apparent problem with symbolism is its ambiguity; symbols are open to countless misinterpretations. My prayer is that the symbolism of my pilgrimage will serve the same dual purpose as Jesus' symbolic parables (Mt 13.10-16). For those with the faith to understand, his parables provided encouragement and inspiration. But to those without faith--including many who thought they knew the ways of God--his parables offered only confusion, that those people might realize that they LACKED understanding. Encouragement and challenge both, packed in such simple symbolism. That's what our lives should be: parables from the mouth of Jesus.

	1/23
	I found this passage in an article by Richard John Neuhaus, who quotes from the journal of Father Alexander Schmemann (1921–1983):

	It would be useful to teach a course entitled "Great Western Errors,"
	following approximately this plan: Rousseau and "Nature," with a capital 
	N; The Enlightenment and "Reason," capital R; Hegel and "History," 
	capital H; Marx and "Revolution," capital R; and finally, Freud and 
	"Sex," capital S--realizing that the main error of each is precisely the 
	capital letter, which transforms these words into an idol...

He offers much better examples than I came up with in my discussion of the idolatrous "spirit" in the September 4th, 2000, entry.
	----------

	And this, also by Neuhaus (in this month's issue of "First Things"):

	Even in these flush times, $22 billion is a hefty piece of change. That 
	is how much evangelical Protestants spend annually in support of a vast 
	array of parachurch groups, ranging from Campus Crusade for Christ, 
	World Vision, and Prison Fellowship to countless evangelistic 
	ministries. Michael S. Hamilton offers an instructive survey of the 
	phenomenon in a Christianity Today article, "We're In the Money!" ...So 
	has the success of the innumerable entrepreneurial empires of the 
	parachurch world corrupted evangelicalism? Hamilton recognizes that 
	being in the money is probably not what Jesus had in mind when he 
	invited his disciples to take up the cross and follow him. He writes, 
	"This particular Christian truth only rarely works its way into the
	decision-making process of our ministry organizations. The engine that 
	drives us is a compelling vision for ministry, and who can say that the 
	vision was not vouchsafed by God? So we pursue the vision by building 
	and growing the organizations that embody the vision. Growth means more 
	money; more money means more ministry. In the worst cases, means and 
	ends become reversed, and growth and influence become goals unto 
	themselves. In the best cases, more ministry means more people who 
	become newly aware of the great gift God has given them in Jesus Christ
	--and who then, in gratitude, reach into their own pockets and give, so 
	that others might also know." If only the world, and the religious world 
	as well, was limited to "the best cases." What would seem to be missing 
	here is a place to stand from which the driving, and sometimes demonic,
	logic of growth and success can be brought under judgment. I left the 
	article wondering whether somebody might someday write a version of "The 
	Grand Inquisitor" updated for the religion business of our day. 

That's the contemporary setting for my recent struggles against the "success" vision for ministry. And it's not just evangelical Protestants, either. "We're in the money"... "the engine that drives us"... "growth means more money; more money means more ministry"... "growth and influence become goals unto themselves"--it all sounds very familiar and yes, a little demonic. "Probably not what Jesus had in mind" is an understatement. It reminds me of the passage I quoted on the 5th--I can hear it: "But, Lord, did we not do many mighty works in your name?"
	Plus, you gotta like his reference to "The Grand Inquisitor." 

	1/24
	I also found these related passages in the January "First Things." The first comes from an article on Christian unity, by Bruce D. Marshall, Professor of Religion at St. Olaf College (Lutheran). He lamented our contemporary acceptance of denominational disunity:

	The reasons why the early Christians set such great store by their unity 
	with one another are not far to seek; the New Testament spells them out 
	with disarming clarity. Whatever else the Church may be, it is Christ's 
	body, and Christ cannot be divided (note Paul's astonished repudiation 
	of the very suggestion of this in 1 Corinthians 1:13). The Church's 
	unity in Christ is not simply a goal to be sought, still less an 
	impossible ideal. It is a present reality--as much a reality as the 
	risen Christ himself. In baptism the Holy Spirit makes members of the 
	Church by joining us in love to Christ and, equally, to one another. 
	Paul does not implore the Ephesians to seek by the Spirit's power a 
	unity they presently lack, but to "maintain the unity of the Spirit in 
	the bond of peace" (Ephesians 4:3), the very bond that holds together 
	the one body of Christ (cf. Colossians 3:14–15).

I have insisted before that the church is NOT divided, despite appearances. The problem is that we confuse our fractured denominations with the one, true church, the undivided Body of Christ. (Recall my discussion of the 'visible church' on November 25th, 2000.)
	What is the church? That's where this other passage comes in. It's by Richard John Neuhaus, who comments on a recent ecumenical convention:

	At the initiative of Dr. Billy Graham, some ten thousand evangelists, 
	theologians, mission strategists, and church leaders from more than two 
	hundred countries gathered in Amsterdam to pray and plan for world 
	evangelization. ...[They] issued a major statement, "The Amsterdam 
	Declaration: A Charter for Evangelism in the Twenty–first Century." 
	    ...Here is what Amsterdam says about the Church: "The church is the 
	people of God, the body and the bride of Christ, and a temple of the 
	Holy Spirit. The one, universal church is a transnational, trans-
	cultural, transdenominational, and multiethnic family, the household of 
	faith. In the widest sense the church includes all the redeemed of all 
	the ages, being the one body of Christ extended throughout time as well 
	as space. Here in the world, the church becomes visible in all local 
	congregations that meet to do together the things that according to 
	Scripture the church does. Christ is the head of the church. Everyone 
	who is personally united to Christ by faith belongs to his body and by 
	the Spirit is united with every other true believer in Jesus."

This understanding of church coincides perfectly with the unified reality described by Marshall--except for one line: "The church becomes visible in all local congregations that meet to do together the things that according to Scripture the church does." That sentence is so vague, it's hard to question it. But it seems to emphasize "local congregations that meet"--apparently to affirm all the local Christian institutions (the church on the street corner). This, however, only introduces the confusion again. The local institutions, even when gathered into large denominations, are clearly NOT universal. They are quite separate from one another, even antagonistic; they often COMPETE for members. These characteristics do not fit the one, unified Body of Christ: church, in the truest sense of the word. I certainly believe there are members of the one church in these local institutions; and I believe that the church is visible in the world. But the visible church should not be identified as "local congregations that meet." The church becomes visible wherever and whenever people speak or act in faith--the one faith that unites them with the one Christ. Use those words to complete the sentence "Here in the world...," and we might have something: a description of church that is both accurate and able to disperse the illusion of disunity.

	1/25
	Mastering his emotion, [Starbuck] half calmly rose, and as he quitted 
	the cabin, paused for an instant and said: "Thou hast outraged, not 
	insulted me, Sir; but for that I ask thee not to beware of Starbuck; 
	thou wouldst but laugh; but let Ahab beware of Ahab; beware of thyself, 
	old man."

	"Beware of yourself"--that's the perfect response to false teachers and manipulative leaders. I think that's what Jesus meant by "Woe to you, blind guides..."(Mt 23.16). He wasn't threatened by them, but neither did he threaten THEM ('turn the other cheek' is far from revolt). He knew that such false leaders (and those who enthusiastically follow them) are their own biggest threat--like self-confident blind men charging ahead with arms flailing. So Jesus taught his disciples:

	Let them alone; they are blind guides. And if a blind man leads a blind
	man, both will fall into a pit. (Mt 15.14)

	1/28
	We know that our old self was crucified with him so that the sinful body
	might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved by sin. For he
	who has died is freed from sin. But if we have died with Christ, we
	believe that we shall also live with him. For we know that Christ being
	raised from the dead will never die again; death no longer has dominion
	over him. (Rom 6.6-9)

	I preached on this passage once, something about the fearlessness of someone who has 'nothing to lose.' That's the impression I get from these lines: if we're dead, what've we got to lose? I think that's a very powerful retort when anxiety starts creeping in. Of course, it's only words unless we are truly living 'through death' by faith, living with Christ. In that case, we actually have nothing to lose--not because we have nothing, but because all that we do have is IN HIM, and we can't lose it. Not even death threatens what we have in him: "Death no longer has dominion over him." Our treasure is laid up in heaven "where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal."(Mt 6.20) An emboldening thought.

	1/29
	This passage from Adam Smith's "The Wealth of Nations" reminded me of my comments on economics on September 13th, last year:

	Wealth, as Mr. Hobbes says, is power. But the person who either 
	acquires, or succeeds to a great fortune, does not necessarily acquire 
	or succeed to any political power, either civil or military. His fortune 
	may, perhaps, afford him the means of acquiring both, but the mere 
	possession of that fortune does not necessarily convey to him either. 
	The power which that possession immediately and directly conveys to him, 
	is the power of purchasing; a certain command over all the labour, or 
	over all the produce of labour, which is then in the market. His fortune 
	is greater or less, precisely in proportion to the extent of this power; 
	or to the quantity either of other men's labour, or, what is the same 
	thing, of the produce of other men's labour, which it enables him to 
	purchase or command. The exchangeable value of everything must always be 
	precisely equal to the extent of this power which it conveys to its 
	owner. 

I have to agree that "wealth is power" holds--except in one case: What if the laborers aren't SELLING? If we give away our labor (or the produce of our labor), we break free from the power of wealth. Even if we happen to provide some service to a rich person, that person does not hold the same power over us (as when they purchase our labor). When our work is a gift, it cannot be commanded. Also, if our services are free, the rich have no more 'purchasing power' than the poor; all can equally "afford" our craftsmanship and produce. That sounds very good. And it demonstrates a divine power: Wherever it appears, free giving nullifies the worldly power of wealth--by the power of love.

	2/1
	I said in my prosperity, "I shall never be moved." 
	By your favor, O Lord, you had established me as a strong mountain; 

		then you hid your face;  
		I was dismayed. 

	I read these words in Psalm 30 a few mornings ago, but they stuck with me. "Then you hid your face and I was dismayed." I'm often tempted to sit back in my present (though temporary) material security, confident in some mythic pilgrimage 'vocation,' or admiring a growing stack of pages entitled "Pilgrimage Journal." But then, it suddenly feels like a cloud passes over. I am shocked by the fragility of it all, as if all of it will surely collapse at the faintest breath. Certainly not "a strong mountain." As I reflect on this feeling, I see how true it is. My research, my arguments, my walking (as experiment / demonstration / preaching)--it's all empty and impotent unless God speaks through it. It's all nothing without the light of his presence. I cannot regret this, because it continually reminds me of poverty and faith, urging me to seek his face. But there are moments of "dismay."

	2/2
	I found these lines in a tract by John Henry Newman, who was writing on "the visible church":

	Before CHRIST came, Divine Truth was, as it were, a pilgrim in the 
	world. The Jews excepted, men who had portions of the SPIRIT of GOD, 
	knew not their privilege. The whole force and current of the external 
	world was against them, acting powerfully on their imagination, and 
	tempting them to set sight against faith, to trust the many witnesses 
	who prophesied falsehood (as if) in the name of the LORD, rather than 
	the still small voice which spoke within them. Who can undervalue the 
	power of this fascination, who has had experience of the world ever so 
	little? Who can go at this day into mixed society, who can engage in 
	politics or other active business, and not find himself gradually 
	drifting off from the true Rock on which his faith is built, till he 
	begins in despair to fancy, that solitude is the only safe place for the 
	Christian, or, (with a baser judgment,) that strict obedience will not 
	be required at the last day of those who have been engaged in active 
	life?

Newman goes on to argue that this has changed, now that the church has been established as a safe-haven in the midst of the world. He says that the power of the visible (institutional) church now counteracts the power of the world. While I certainly support Christian community and common worship, I cannot agree with these claims about church power. My belief (supported by history and experience) is that the political and economic power wielded by the institutional church IS the power of the world, only slightly disguised.
	But I think Newman's words quoted above are truthful. Divine Truth WAS a pilgrim in the world--and still IS. Jesus literally lived this truth. And just as the 'ways of the world' were against God's pilgrim Truth before Jesus came, so it was in his time, and Jesus taught his disciples to expect the same in the future. Newman's observations are right, but the institutional church is not the "safe place for the Christian" either. The only safe place is by the side of our pilgrim God, walking by faith.
	----------

	Yet it's hard not to complain about this "fallen" world, where divine Truth appears as a pilgrim, a stranger; where God's guidance seems like an obstacle to worldly success. It's not surprising that some might (mistakenly) assume that "strict obedience will not be required at the last day of those who have been engaged in active life" (Newman quote). Because the gospel--as Jesus preached it--doesn't seem very helpful when it comes to making a living or gaining the cooperation of others. "Give freely"? "Turn the other cheek"? "Love your enemies"?! That seems like a one-way ticket to financial and political failure. It almost makes you think that Jesus wasn't paying attention to the implications when he said those things.
	Or perhaps he had something completely different in mind. It makes me think of Romans 8.19-21:

	For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the 
	children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its 
	own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the 
	creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will 
	obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.

I once wrote an essay about this "futility" of creation, paralleling it with Camus's writing on the absurdity of life. It's like the "all is vanity" of Ecclesiates. Paul links this futility with the "bondage to decay," which I think helps explain it. All our accomplishments, all our wealth, all our popularity, every trace and memory of our earthly life will slowly but inevitably decay and disappear, just like everything else in the natural world. What does "success" mean in the light of THAT truth? WE value financial and political success because it provides physical security and comfort, perhaps for as long as we live. But JESUS' life and teachings were based on something else altogether. He knew that God had subjected all creation to futility for the sake of the "children of God." And he was willing to live a "futile" life for their sake as well.
	Though we continually try to overlook the futility of creation, the natural world is pretty up front about it. Death, decay, suffering, disease; it's hard to miss. And it confuses us. Sunshine, health, and laughter don't confuse us; pain and death confuse us. Hopefully that confusion attracts our attention, because there's a message there. God has subjected all of creation to futility to draw our attention AWAY from temporary security and comfort TO the eternal, spiritual reality of life with him (starting NOW). 
	Jesus' life did the same thing. He chose poverty, shunned popular support, and proved his love by dying. Yes, he healed and fed some people (services that everyone values), but not for long--and he made it very clear that the salvation he offered was of a different order. By the world's standards, Jesus wasted his life. But he wasted it in exactly the right way: the futility of his life was in obedience to the same God who subjected all creation to futility--for the sake of his children.

	2/3
	"...I've never discovered anybody that knew what the deuce Man really 
	was made for!"

	"Well we know--not just in the Bible alone, but it stands to reason--a 
	man who doesn't buckle down and do his duty, even if it does bore him 
	sometimes, is nothing but a--well, he's simply a weakling. Mollycoddle, 
	in fact! And what do you advocate? Come down to cases! If a man is bored 
	by his wife, do you seriously mean he has a right to chuck her and take 
	a sneak, or even kill himself?"

	"Good Lord, I don't know what 'rights' a man has! And I don't know the
	solution of boredom. If I did, I'd be the one philosopher that had the 
	cure for living. But I do know that about ten times as many people find 
	their lives dull, and unnecessarily dull, as ever admit it; and I do 
	believe that if we busted out and admitted it sometimes, instead of 
	being nice and patient and loyal for sixty years, and then nice and 
	patient and dead for the rest of eternity, why, maybe, possibly, we 
	might make life more..."

	Sinclair Lewis finishes this outburst with the word "fun"--which is a little disappointing. But I find this conversation (from his novel "Babbitt") very interesting. I only wish the last line ran something like "...we might make life more intense" or "real"--or "alive." I guess I think 'fun' makes the boredom he describes seem less significant. [After reading more, I've changed my mind. That character is especially sensitive, almost childlike; so 'fun' expresses his yearning very well.] I've written enough on boredom already, but I do think it can be terrible enough to break up marriages, or tempt people to suicide. It's definitely a big enough problem to draw our attention; I think it ranks right up there with the 'futility of creation' (and is perhaps connected with it). It's so big, in fact, I think I've been drawn into framing the gospel in terms of this problem. Which is a mistake. 
	Though I believe that following Christ WOULD cure our horrible "suburban ennui" (and soothe our economic and political tortures as well), that's not the reason to follow. We can't expect Christ to make our life more interesting (or comfortable or prosperous or...). Because, apart from him, we have NO life. Instead of "being nice and patient and loyal for sixty years," we SHOULD stop and admit that we have no idea what life really is. If we then turn to Christ in faith (again and again), he will show us life. But it's not going to be the life we expect. Just as the disciples found a whole new life when they followed Jesus, so also our lives will be continually transformed by contact with him. It definitely won't be boring. But we can't be worried about hanging on to OUR life, OUR expectations, OUR ambitions, OUR self. It has to be about hanging on to HIM.

	2/5
	From Dostoyevsky's "Brothers Karamazov":

	"Allow me to tell you one little anecdote, gentlemen," Miusov said 
	impressively, with a peculiarly majestic air. "Some years ago, soon 
	after the coup d'etat of December, I happened to be calling in Paris on 
	an extremely influential personage in the Government, and I met a very 
	interesting man in his house. This individual was not precisely a 
	detective but was a sort of superintendent of a whole regiment of 
	political detectives--a rather powerful position in its own way. I was 
	prompted by curiosity to seize the opportunity of conversation with him. 
	...The subject was the socialist revolutionaries who were at that time 
	persecuted. I will quote only one most curious remark dropped by this 
	person. 'We are not particularly afraid,' said he, 'of all these 
	socialists, anarchists, infidels, and revolutionists; we keep watch on 
	them and know all their goings on. But there are a few peculiar men 
	among them who believe in God and are Christians, but at the same time 
	are socialists. These are the people we are most afraid of. They are 
	dreadful people. The socialist who is a Christian is more to be dreaded 
	than a socialist who is an atheist.' The words struck me at the time, 
	and now they have suddenly come back to me here, gentlemen." 
	    "You apply them to us, and look upon us as socialists?" Father 
	Paissy asked directly....

	Glancing at the descriptions of communal life in Acts 2.44-45 and 4.32-35, it does look a lot like socialism (community ownership of property and distribution according to need). But I think there's one important difference. The Acts 'commune,' like all true Christian communities, was completely VOLUNTARY. Socialism, on the other hand, wherever it has been attempted, has always been imposed by law, sometimes using severely coercive methods (such as Soviet Communism). From this perspective, the contrast is sharp.
	Of course, socialism is not on many people's minds these days. The Communists lost the Cold War. But how about this idea: If we can only perfect 'the system,' people will be good? That's a widely held belief--from politicians and activists to parents and teachers. We try to create an environment that rewards virtue and punishes vice, that "encourages" people to be good. I won't assume to understand all the motives behind this. But I do think it's important to recognize that this belief is much closer to socialism than it is to Christianity.
	Jesus made it clear that goodness is not a behavior; it is a condition of the heart. Good behavior can be faked, but that doesn't make the heart good. Goodness of heart, however, cannot be faked--or imposed. It's a matter of motivation. If the motivation is from God, through faith, then we do good. Otherwise, it's as Paul wrote to the Romans: "whatever does not proceed from faith is sin."(Rom 14.23) MOTIVATION--that's what's important. Which is why goodness (virtue, obedience to God, love) must be voluntary. Physical coercion, or "encouraging" people to do the right thing (by economic or social pressure), may be able to modify behavior, but such methods cannot modify a person's motivation. We need to find, not the perfect environment, where it is easy to be good, but the perfect motivation, that moves us to do good in any environment (which, incidentally, DOES improve our environment). That's exactly what Christ offers.
	So what makes the socialist-like Christian so "dreadful"? They're not the usual political opponent. The source of their words and actions is not just another political ideology. And they don't fight with the same feeble weapons. They're not trying to change or establish or overthrow any social order; they simply announce the Kingdom of God, and live as if they were already in it. That Kingdom, and its Ruler, that's what's dreadful to all worldly powers.

	2/6
	Mention of the "kingdom of God" reminded me of a passage in Luke that I often thought of while on the road (Lk 10.8-11):

	Whenever you enter a town and they receive you, ...say to them, "The 
	kingdom of God has come near you." But whenever you enter a town and
	they do not receive you, go into its streets and say, "Even the dust of
	your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off against you; nevertheless
	know this, that the kingdom of God has come near."

It's obvious here that the kingdom of God is not a place to be found, or a social order to be established. It is a present reality to be announced and lived. Where the followers of Christ stand, THERE is the kingdom of God.

	Being asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, [Jesus]
	answered them, "The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be
	observed; nor will they say, 'Lo, here it is!' or 'There!' for behold,
	the kingdom of God is in the midst of you." (Lk 17.20-21)

	2/10
	I've been reading "The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism," a short book by Max Weber, German sociologist and political economist of the early 1900s. He suggested that the Calvinist and Puritan teaching about an ascetic Christian life significantly contributed to the growth of capitalism, with its quasi-religious commitment to work and the accumulation of money. In place of monastic asceticism, the Protestant work ethic reinterpreted secular work as a religious duty (a "calling") and encouraged frugal living.
	I think there's much to admire in this work ethic (though I would hope our work could be seen as a joy rather than a duty). But if such a work ethic engages a capitalist economic system, a serious spiritual problem appears. John Wesley described it well: 

	I fear, wherever riches have increased, the essence of religion has 
	decreased in the same proportion. Therefore I do not see how it is 
	possible, in the nature of things, for any revival of true religion to 
	continue long. For religion must necessarily produce both industry and 
	frugality, and these cannot but produce riches. But as riches increase, 
	so will pride, anger, and love of the world in all its branches. How 
	then is it possible that Methodism, that is, a religion of the heart, 
	though it flourishes now as a green bay tree, should continue in this 
	state? For the Methodists in every place grow diligent and frugal; 
	consequently they increase in goods. Hence they proportionately increase 
	in pride, in anger, in the desire of the flesh, the desire of the eyes, 
	and the pride of life. So, although the form of religion remains, the 
	spirit is swiftly vanishing away. Is there no way to prevent this--this 
	continual decay of pure religion? 

Wesley continued to encourage Christians to "gain all they can and save all they can," but here he saw the need to urge them also to GIVE all they can, so that they will grow in grace and lay up a treasure in heaven, rather than on earth. Unfortunately, the message about giving was not nearly as influential as the Protestant work ethic. Weber writes:

	What the great religious epoch of the seventeenth century bequeathed to 
	its utilitarian successor was... above all an amazingly good, we may 
	even say a pharisaically good, conscience in the acquisition of money, 
	so long as it took place legally.

	As I review Wesley's dilemma, this sentence stands out: "For religion must necessarily produce both industry and frugality, and these cannot but produce riches." I don't argue with 'industry' and 'frugality'--it's the last part that bothers me. Creative work and simple living ARE good, both spiritually and materially, for both the individual and the community as a whole. But such a manner of life doesn't necessarily produce riches. Because our labor and the produce of our labor don't have to be SOLD. They may be GIVEN. "Work = $ale" is assumed in a capitalistic society, but there is no real connection between doing good work and being able to sell it profitably. And while good work may be virtuous, there is no virtue in getting someone else to pay us to do it. There is, however, great virtue in giving to others, sharing freely our time and skills and resources. I've argued this before. But it's encouraging to see how well it answers Wesley's plea: "Is there no way to prevent this--this continual decay of pure religion?"
	----------

	This is from Flannery O'Connor's "A Good Man is Hard to Find," a good (and fairly well-known) example of her story-telling. This passage is pretty gruesome, and it's hard to draw one specific message out of it. But I love the intensity of this. Appropriate for the subject matter: 

	There were two more pistol reports and the grandmother raised her head 
	like a parched old turkey hen crying for water and called, "Bailey Boy, 
	Bailey Boy!" as if her heart would break. 
	    "Jesus was the only One that ever raised the dead," The Misfit 
	continued, "and He shouldn't have done it. He shown everything off 
	balance. If He did what He said, then it's nothing for you to do but 
	thow away everything and follow Him, and if He didn't, then it's nothing 
	for you to do but enjoy the few minutes you got left the best way you 
	can--by killing somebody or burning down his house or doing some other 
	meanness to him. No pleasure but meanness," he said and his voice had 
	become almost a snarl. 
	    "Maybe He didn't raise the dead," the old lady mumbled, not knowing 
	what she was saying and feeling so dizzy that she sank down in the ditch 
	with her legs twisted under her. 
	    "I wasn't there so I can't say He didn't," The Misfit said. "I wisht 
	I had of been there," he said, hitting the ground with his fist. "It 
	ain't right I wasn't there because if I had of been there I would of 
	known. Listen lady," he said in a high voice, "if I had of been there I 
	would of known and I wouldn't be like I am now." His voice seemed about 
	to crack and the grandmother's head cleared for an instant. She saw the 
	man's face twisted close to her own as if he were going to cry and she 
	murmured, "Why you're one of my babies. You're one of my own children!" 
	She reached out and touched him on the shoulder. The Misfit sprang back 
	as if a snake had bitten him and shot her three times through the chest. 
	Then he put his gun down on the ground and took off his glasses and 
	began to clean them. 
	    Hiram and Bobby Lee returned from the woods and stood over the 
	ditch, looking down at the grandmother who half sat and half lay in a 
	puddle of blood with her legs crossed under her like a child's and her 
	face smiling up at the cloudless sky. 
	    Without his glasses, The Misfit's eyes were red-rimmed and pale and 
	defenseless-looking. "Take her off and thow her where you shown the 
	others," he said, picking up the cat that was rubbing itself against his 
	leg. 
	    "She was a talker, wasn't she?" Bobby Lee said, sliding down the 
	ditch with a yodel. 
	    "She would of been a good woman," The Misfit said, "if it had been 
	somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life." 

	2/11
	A thought for Sunday:

	"Why do you call me 'Lord, Lord,' and do not do what I tell you?" (Lk 6.46)

	----------

	Perusing Dostoyevsky's "Brothers Karamazov," I stumbled upon Ivan's "Rebellion" again ("It's not that I don't accept God, you must understand, it's the world created by Him I don't and cannot accept"). His indignation at unjust suffering reminded me of these lines from "A Good Man is Hard to Find":

	"I call myself The Misfit," he said, "because I can't make what all I 
	done wrong fit what all I gone through in punishment." 
	    There was a piercing scream from the woods, followed closely by a 
	pistol report. "Does it seem right to you, lady, that one is punished a 
	heap and another ain't punished at all?" 

The whole book of Job, too. All of Job's wails are about the "injustice" of his plight. Not the physical agony, or the grief of losing loved ones, but the torment of "it's just not right--what have I done wrong?!"
	I think that's the essence of human suffering. There is also the simple animal suffering of physical pain and emotional loss, but that is brief and shallow compared with the unbearable conviction that "it ought not to be." Why is that innocent child suffering?... Why does my punishment not fit the crime?... Why me?! Those are the questions that turn the knife. I remember one foodless day, I was walking down the highway, complaining, almost crying even--and I suddenly realized that hunger had very little to do with my suffering. My suffering was mostly a wild, helpless indignation. A refusal to accept a situation that I was convinced was unjust.
	I won't presume to offer any answer here. But it is startling to realize that the problem of suffering (conscious 'human' suffering, at least) really may have more to do with my will than God's.

	2/16
	From Plato's "Republic":

	...all those mercenary individuals, whom the many call Sophists and whom 
	they deem to be their adversaries, do, in fact, teach nothing but the 
	opinion of the many, that is to say, the opinions of their assemblies; 
	and this is their wisdom. I might compare them to a man who should study 
	the tempers and desires of a mighty strong beast who is fed by him--he
	would learn how to approach and handle him, also at what times and from 
	what causes he is dangerous or the reverse, and what is the meaning of 
	his several cries, and by what sounds, when another utters them, he is 
	soothed or infuriated; and you may suppose further, that when, by 
	continually attending upon him, he has become perfect in all this, he 
	calls his knowledge wisdom, and makes of it a system or art, which he 
	proceeds to teach, although he has no real notion of what he means by 
	the principles or passions of which he is speaking, but calls this 
	honorable and that dishonorable, or good or evil, or just or unjust, 
	all in accordance with the tastes and tempers of the great brute. Good 
	he pronounces to be that in which the beast delights and evil to be that 
	which he dislikes...

This passage inspired Simone Weil to christen society "The Great Beast." I've referred to this from time to time; I think it's an excellent analogy. But I'm not exactly sure why I looked it up again this morning. Maybe something to do with Sinclair Lewis's portrayal of society (in his novels "Babbitt" and "Main Street"): powerful, immovable, temperamental, vicious at times.
	Also, I was recently infuriated by the beastly "wisdom" of seeing a price tag on EVERYTHING, even on every human exchange, no matter how small. Each "thoughtful" gift has to be reciprocated; if invitations are not punctually returned, we risk giving offense. Everyone's contribution is a duty, a 'role' or a 'job,' which is supposed to justify our acceptance of the contributions of others. Certainly, such "wisdom" makes is difficult to be a slacker or a leech; it discourages those who would take advantage of the generosity of others. But it achieves this by eliminating generosity altogether. No one is generous--they're just doing their job. In the interest of efficiency, duty replaces love as the primary motivator. The Beast has spoken.
	But Plato (among others) seemed to believe that there was some higher wisdom, some purer knowledge of Truth. And I believe with him that we can all touch this Truth, and come to a better understanding of how to interact with one another--if we refuse to be bullied by the Beast.

	2/17
	In Lewis's "Main Street," there's an interesting criticism of criticizers: "cranks that kick about everything," as opposed to "Regular Guys, the fellows with stick-tuitiveness, that get the world's work done." It's a strong challenge to his main character, who is a reformer of sorts in small town America. Especially because she is already frustrated at not being able to accomplish much. She criticizes the way things are, because she has different ideas about how the town should be, but she has to admit that the "Regular Guys" with their unenlightened ideas are much more successful than she is when it comes to 'getting things done.' 
	From a materialistic point of view (whether conservative or liberal), 'getting things done' is the goal. There are continual arguments about WHAT should be done, or about the most effective WAY to get it done, but "getting the world's work done" is the assumed agenda. But from the spiritual point of view, 'getting things done' is not primary. The INTENT, the MOTIVATION, that's what's crucial. The most efficient method has no value if it is imposed on the worker, if it tramples on the worker's freedom, if it crushes the worker's spirit. Because, from the spiritual (eternal, absolute) perspective, spirit is everything. I hope my criticizing can focus attention on that truth. I really believe that it would be better to not get the work done, rather than do it out of fear, guilt, shame, or spite. I believe we should risk physical loss rather than accept spiritual loss. Because I truly believe spirit is everything. 
	----------

	This passage from "Main Street" makes a good distinction:

	Vida was, and always would be, a reformer, a liberal. She believed that 
	details could excitingly be altered, but that things-in-general were 
	comely and kind and immutable. Carol was, without understanding or 
	accepting it, a revolutionist, a radical, and therefore possessed of 
	"constructive ideas," which only the destroyer can have, since the 
	reformer believes that all the essential constructing has already been 
	done. 

	I see Jesus as a revolutionist, a radical, preaching a revolution of the spirit. But a spiritual revolution changes the whole person, from the inside out, so a spiritual revolution also impacts the social / political / economic realms. Thus Jesus and his followers were considered as much of a threat to society as any other revolutionary, and they were persecuted and killed to protect the established order. The spiritual revolution, however, continues...

	2/18
	I was thinking about Jesus as revolutionary, and thought I should highlight two major differences that set Jesus' spiritual revolution apart from all political revolutions. Jesus preached the "kingdom of God," much like others have preached their own utopias. But Jesus' kingdom was not a rational construct, a human design, like theirs. The law of the kingdom of God was love, and nothing but love. Citizens were made citizens only by continual contact with that love (from God, the will of God). The will of God was the design, strength, and guarantee of Jesus' kingdom. Thus the reality of his "utopia" did not depend on the feasibility of some human social theory, but on the reality and efficacy of God's will (love) now and forever. 
	Also, Jesus' "utopia" was a spiritual reality available immediately (the kingdom of God is NOW; see entry on the 6th). So there was no need for violent revolt, or forcing any political or economic system on people (unlike worldly socialism; see entry on the 5th). Jesus' followers could live as the kingdom of God now (eternity begins now); they didn't need to insist that others set up a utopia for them to live in--or wait their whole lives in vain. Again, this was possible because the kingdom of God was a SPIRITUAL reality, always available for those who recognized it through faith. The kingdom of God was (and IS) as perfect and sure and accessible as God. (And it was Jesus who revealed just how accessible God is.)

	2/19
	From "Democracy in America," written in the mid-1800s by Alexis De Tocqueville (who was, overall, quite impressed by American democracy):

	Unlimited power is in itself a bad and dangerous thing; human beings are 
	not competent to exercise it with discretion, and God alone can be 
	omnipotent, because His wisdom and His justice are always equal to His 
	power. But no power upon earth is so worthy of honor for itself, or of 
	reverential obedience to the rights which it represents, that I would 
	consent to admit its uncontrolled and all-predominant authority. When I 
	see that the right and the means of absolute command are conferred on a 
	people or upon a king, upon an aristocracy or a democracy, a monarchy or
	a republic, I recognize the germ of tyranny, and I journey onward to a 
	land of more hopeful institutions.

	In my opinion the main evil of the present democratic institutions of 
	the United States does not arise, as is often asserted in Europe, from 
	their weakness, but from their overpowering strength; and I am not so 
	much alarmed at the excessive liberty which reigns in that country as at 
	the very inadequate securities which exist against tyranny.

	When an individual or a party is wronged in the United States, to whom 
	can he apply for redress? If to public opinion, public opinion 
	constitutes the majority; if to the legislature, it represents the 
	majority, and implicitly obeys its injunctions; if to the executive 
	power, it is appointed by the majority, and remains a passive tool in 
	its hands; the public troops consist of the majority under arms; the 
	jury is the majority invested with the right of hearing judicial cases; 
	and in certain States even the judges are elected by the majority.  
	However iniquitous or absurd the evil of which you complain may be, you 
	must submit to it as well as you can.

Of course, our assumption is that "two heads are better than one," so the majority must be more right/fair/just than the few, or the individual. De Tocqueville prophesied: "...it may be foreseen that faith in public opinion will become a species of religion there, and the majority its ministering prophet." But Jesus' warnings to his disciples about "the world" showed that he put very little trust in society at large ("I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves"). Also remember that his crucifixion was demanded by the crowds. The Son of God was killed by the tyrannous majority.
	(Yes, the leaders incited the crowds--but haven't the masses always been swayed by the propaganda of the rich and powerful? And now more than ever!)

	2/20
	De Tocqueville really nails the democratic version of oppression:

	In America the majority raises very formidable barriers to the liberty 
	of opinion: within these barriers an author may write whatever he 
	pleases, but he will repent it if he ever step beyond them. Not that he 
	is exposed to the terrors of an auto-da-fe, but he is tormented by the 
	slights and persecutions of daily obloquy. His political career is 
	closed forever, since he has offended the only authority which is able 
	to promote his success. Every sort of compensation, even that of 
	celebrity, is refused to him. Before he published his opinions he 
	imagined that he held them in common with many others; but no sooner has 
	he declared them openly than he is loudly censured by his overbearing
	opponents, whilst those who think without having the courage to speak, 
	like him, abandon him in silence. He yields at length, oppressed by the 
	daily efforts he has been making, and he subsides into silence, as if he 
	was tormented by remorse for having spoken the truth.

	Fetters and headsmen were the coarse instruments which tyranny formerly 
	employed; but the civilization of our age has refined the arts of 
	despotism which seemed, however, to have been sufficiently perfected 
	before. The excesses of monarchical power had devised a variety of 
	physical means of oppression: the democratic republics of the present 
	day have rendered it as entirely an affair of the mind as that will 
	which it is intended to coerce. Under the absolute sway of an individual 
	despot the body was attacked in order to subdue the soul, and the soul
	escaped the blows which were directed against it and rose superior to 
	the attempt; but such is not the course adopted by tyranny in democratic 
	republics; there the body is left free, and the soul is enslaved. The 
	sovereign can no longer say, "You shall think as I do on pain of death;" 
	but he says, "You are free to think differently from me, and to retain 
	your life, your property, and all that you possess; but if such be your
	determination, you are henceforth an alien among your people. You may 
	retain your civil rights, but they will be useless to you, for you will 
	never be chosen by your fellow-citizens if you solicit their suffrages, 
	and they will affect to scorn you if you solicit their esteem. You will 
	remain among men, but you will be deprived of the rights of mankind. 
	Your fellow-creatures will shun you like an impure being, and those who 
	are most persuaded of your innocence will abandon you too, lest they 
	should be shunned in their turn. Go in peace! I have given you your 
	life, but it is an existence in comparably worse than death."

	I can't help thinking of the Black civil rights struggle, the McCarthy hearings, "political correctness".... Oppression is not eliminated in democracy, it's simply found a more subtle (and more insidious) way to exercise itself. 
	Also, I think this is precisely the way Christians are persecuted in modern societies. Democracies and democratic organizations attempt to punish (and silence) radical Christians, not by imprisonment or physical violence, but by shunning. The "offender" is simply excluded from social life. If the social exclusion is extreme, individuals may literally be forced into exile, though no one lays a hand on them.

	[Later, I found this passage in the second book of "Democracy in America":

	If the absolute power of the majority were to be substituted by 
	democratic nations, for all the different powers which checked or 
	retarded overmuch the energy of individual minds, the evil would only 
	have changed its symptoms. Men would not have found the means of 
	independent life; they would simply have invented (no easy task) a new 
	dress for servitude. There is--and I cannot repeat it too often--there 
	is in this matter for profound reflection for those who look on freedom 
	as a holy thing, and who hate not only the despot, but despotism. For 
	myself, when I feel the hand of power lie heavy on my brow, I care but 
	little to know who oppresses me; and I am not the more disposed to pass 
	beneath the yoke, because it is held out to me by the arms of a million
	of men.

	And I should say here: I don't mean to condemn democracy; I only hope to highlight the evils among human beings that STILL exist in democracies. The evil of oppression is harder to recognize in a democratic organization (where we're supposed to be free)--but we need to recognize it if we are to avoid inflicting it on others.]

	2/21
	I was just watching a TV show that emphasized that spiritual health was important for physical health, and I remembered recent magazine articles that said the same. Basically, they encouraged spiritual growth for the sake of good overall health. Then I connected that with the new political interest in "faith-based" social work. The latest push is to give government subsidies to religious organizations that perform public services: soup kitchens, homeless shelters, rehab centers, etc. Because it seems churches often provide more effective services, with less bureaucracy (compared to government welfare systems). All this adds up to a renewed interest in religion and spirituality--for the physical or political results they can produce. Then I read this in "Democracy in America" (granted, it's a little dated, but the idea is the same):

	I have known of societies formed by the Americans to send out ministers 
	of the Gospel into the new Western States to found schools and churches 
	there, lest religion should be suffered to die away in those remote 
	settlements, and the rising States be less fitted to enjoy free 
	institutions than the people from which they emanated. I met with 
	wealthy New Englanders who abandoned the country in which they were born 
	in order to lay the foundations of Christianity and of freedom on the 
	banks of the Missouri, or in the prairies of Illinois. Thus religious 
	zeal is perpetually stimulated in the United States by the duties of
	patriotism. These men do not act from an exclusive consideration of the 
	promises of a future life; eternity is only one motive of their devotion 
	to the cause; and if you converse with these missionaries of Christian 
	civilization, you will be surprised to find how much value they set upon 
	the goods of this world, and that you meet with a politician where you 
	expected to find a priest. They will tell you that "all the American 
	republics are collectively involved with each other; if the republics of 

	the West were to fall into anarchy, or to be mastered by a despot, the 
	republican institutions which now flourish upon the shores of the 
	Atlantic Ocean would be in great peril. It is, therefore, our interest 
	that the new States should be religious, in order to maintain our 
	liberties."

Really, one sentence sums it up: "Religious zeal is perpetually stimulated in the United States by the duties of patriotism." In other words, we promote religion because it holds the country together. Or because it provides excellent social services. Or because it promotes good health.
	Many people today embrace these arguments--why wouldn't we applaud any argument that supports religion and churches, and sparks people's interest in spirituality? Because these arguments have it all backwards. Our soul doesn't exist for the sake of the body. The body exists for the soul. Thus we should not seek spiritual maturity for better health, or for the solution to our social problems, or for the strength of a nation. We will never mature spiritually with those aims. Instead, we will only debase our religion and lose any contact we might have had with the reality of the spirit. The body, even the whole physical world, exists for the soul. We usually assume that individuals die, but the land, the nation, the human race remains--but the opposite is true. Long after the earth and its nations and all its creatures are gone, the soul of every individual will live on. So we should be promoting good health, good social services, and good politics for the sake of our spirituality--not the other way around. The soul does not exist for the sake of everything else. Everything else exists for the sake of the soul.

	2/22
	"Main Street" again; an exchange between Vida (the "reformer") and Carol (the "revolutionist"; see entry on the 17th):

	[Vida:] "People like you and me, who want to reform things, have to be 
	particularly careful about appearances. Think how much better you can 
	criticize conventional customs if you yourself live up to them, 
	scrupulously. Then people can't say you're attacking them to excuse your 
	own infractions."

	To Carol was given a sudden great philosophical understanding, an 
	explanation of half the cautious reforms in history. "Yes. I've heard 
	that plea. It's a good one. It sets revolts aside to cool. It keeps 
	strays in the flock. To word it differently: 'You must live up to the 
	popular code if you believe in it; but if you don't believe in it, then 
	you MUST live up to it!'"

	Vida wants to avoid the appearance of being self-serving ("Then people can't say you're attacking them to excuse your own infractions"). Which is good political strategy. But Carol senses that something is amiss. I think the biggest tip-off is the overriding concern with 'appearances'--that's a BAD sign. Acting according to what you believe, that's good. Acting according to what you want other people to THINK you believe, that's not good. That's the road to hypocrisy. A sure way to destroy purity of heart. 
	Yes, we should be careful that our actions are NOT self-serving (but God-serving). But we don't have to be so careful that no one ever THINKS that our actions are self-serving. Jesus sure wasn't.

	2/23
	This passage from "Democracy in America" reminds me of earlier journal entries on wealth and property:

	Not only are the men of democracies not naturally desirous of 
	revolutions, but they are afraid of them. All revolutions more or less 
	threaten the tenure of property: but most of those who live in 
	democratic countries are possessed of property--not only are they 
	possessed of property, but they live in the condition of men who set the 
	greatest store upon their property. If we attentively consider each of 
	the classes of which society is composed, it is easy to see that the 
	passions engendered by property are keenest and most tenacious amongst 
	the middle classes. The poor often care but little for what they 
	possess, because they suffer much more from the want of what they have
	not, than they enjoy the little they have. The rich have many other 
	passions besides that of riches to satisfy; and, besides, the long and 
	arduous enjoyment of a great fortune sometimes makes them in the end 
	insensible to its charms. But the men who have a competency, alike 
	removed from opulence and from penury, attach an enormous value to their 
	possessions. As they are still almost within the reach of poverty, they 
	see its privations near at hand, and dread them; between poverty and 
	themselves there is nothing but a scanty fortune, upon which they 
	immediately fix their apprehensions and their hopes. Every day increases 
	the interest they take in it, by the constant cares which it occasions; 
	and they are the more attached to it by their continual exertions to 
	increase the amount. The notion of surrendering the smallest part of it 
	is insupportable to them, and they consider its total loss as the worst 
	of misfortunes. Now these eager and apprehensive men of small property 
	constitute the class which is constantly increased by the equality of
	conditions. Hence, in democratic communities, the majority of the people 
	do not clearly see what they have to gain by a revolution, but they 
	continually and in a thousand ways feel that they might lose by one.

This is talking about political revolution. But, interestingly, Jesus' spiritual revolution also called for the release of property--not by violent revolt or forcible reorganization of society, but by voluntary giving. Free communal sharing of resources (like in Acts), to provide for the needs of all and eliminate economic power over one another. But people fear this spiritual revolution as much as they fear political revolt--because of their lack of faith. Strangely, it's just as De Tocqueville wrote: They "do not clearly see what they have to gain by a revolution, but they continually and in a thousand ways feel that they might lose by one."

	2/24

	...for I see violence and strife in the city.
	Day and night they go around on its walls;
	and mischief and trouble are within it, ruin is in its midst;
	oppression and fraud do not depart from its market place.

	From Psalm 55 this morning. These lines made me think of my own criticism of 'the world': our political and economic systems, the social "Beast," and our 'worldly wise' values and methods--embraced equally by those labeled "degenerates" and those honored as "upstanding citizens." This criticism has led some to ask, with indignation, "Well, what do you propose instead?" I often hear that question in my head, tempting me. But I must not answer. I don't propose anything--no new order, no ideal social theory, no perfect system. Jesus already gave the answer: "The kingdom of God is among you."
	When Jesus started preaching, his message was simple: "Repent, the kingdom of God has come near." Simple. But the phrase 'kingdom of God' meant so much. It had an eschatological sense, meaning heaven, 'the promised land,' when God would make all things visible and put an end to every pain and evil. And Jesus did speak of God's kingdom in this (very true and hopeful) sense. But in many places he also spoke of the kingdom of God as PRESENT (this commentary is by Robert Stein):

	Jesus told his hearers "if I drive out demons by the finger of God, then 
	the kingdom of God has come to you" (Luke 11:20; cf. Matt 12:28). In 
	four of the other instances where the same verb "has come" (ephthasen) 
	is used in the New Testament it clearly means "has arrived, " is "now 
	present" (Rom 9:31; 2 Cor 10:14; Php 3:16; 1 Thess 2:16). ...Elsewhere 
	Jesus declared that his coming marked the end of the old era when he 
	said "The Law and the Prophets were proclaimed until John. Since that 
	time, the good news of the kingdom of God is being preached" (Luke 
	16:16). Here two distinct periods of history are distinguished. The 
	former is referred to as the period of the Law and the prophets. The 
	second is the period of the kingdom of God. John the Baptist is seen as 
	a bridge who both brings the "old" to its conclusion and announces the 
	breaking in of the "new." This "new" thing, which cannot be mixed with 
	the old (Mr 2:21-22), which gathers the outcasts (Matt 11:4-6) and the 
	lost tribes of Israel (Mark 3:13-19; Matt 19:28), which manifests signs 
	and marvels (Matt 13:16-17), which inaugurates a new covenant (1 Cor 
	11:25), is nothing other than the arrival of the kingdom of God. Jesus 
	also announced that now already the long-awaited messianic banquet had 
	begun (Luke 14:15-24). The kingdom of God was now in their presence 
	(Luke 17:20-21--"among" is a better translation than "within").

That's good news, not just for the distant future, but for now. That's revolutionary good news; it changes everything. It means that we can experience the reality of God's kingdom now (though faith) and live according to the law of that kingdom (love). We don't have to settle for "the lesser of two evils" or "a necessary evil"; we are not alone and helpless in a "fallen world." The kingdom of heaven has come near! It exists now, in the midst of the oppression and fraud of all the kingdoms of the world. The only thing that keeps us from the freedom of God's kingdom is our lack of faith (as Jesus moaned again and again, "O ye of little faith!"). That's what I need to emphasize, in word and action: The kingdom of God is very near.
	The present sense of the kingdom of God offers immediate joy and peace, but it also calls for a response now. If God's kingdom is present now, we should be acting like it is present. We shouldn't be making deals with the leaders of the world's kingdoms (the rich and powerful), condemning ourselves to be their slaves. We should be denouncing the lies and acts of coercion by which the world is governed. But, instead, we often submit to and cooperate with the world's fraud and oppression. This is a betrayal of the kingdom of God. That's why we need to hear the rest of Jesus' message: "Repent." Repent, because the kingdom of God HAS come near.
	----------

	Another piece from Robert Stein's commentary on 'the kingdom of God':

	At the turn of the nineteenth century the eschatological dimension of 
	Jesus' teachings was rediscovered. ...According to this view Jesus 
	taught that the kingdom of God, which would bring history to its end, 
	was future. Yet this event lay not in the far distant future. On the 
	contrary, it was very near. It had not yet arrived, but it was to appear 
	momentarily. Signs and powers of the kingdom were already at work, and 
	prefigurements of its glory were already present. As a result Jesus 
	taught along with announcement of the kingdom of God's nearness an 
	"interim ethic" for this brief in-between period of history. Soon the 
	Son of Man would come, the final judgment would take place, and world 
	history as we know it would cease. During this in-between period 
	believers were to live a heroic ethic. They were to avoid divorce, 
	refrain from marriage, love their enemies, turn the other cheek, not 
	retaliate, give to whoever had a need.

	While I am compelled to emphasize the PRESENT-ness kingdom of God, I recognize something in this "interim ethic." Certainly, Jesus taught such a way of life (though I question the "refrain from marriage" part). But I understand this as simply 'life in the kingdom of God,' now and forever. Not "interim" but eternal. The kingdom of God is one eternal kingdom. The difference between 'kingdom present' and 'kingdom to come' is that all that can be known and experienced by faith now will be made fully visible then. And those who now deny God's kingdom and persecute Jesus' followers will be silenced and humbled then. Then, the kingdom of God will be revealed in power. But it's the same kingdom that faith sees "among us" right now.

	2/27
	I've been thinking a lot about the 'kingdom of God.' That's really what I've been trying to describe throughout these pages, using various terms: true Christianity, followers of Jesus, church, body of Christ. But Jesus' favorite term was best. I'm going to try to use 'kingdom of God' more, in my discussions and writing.
	Maybe terminology is not SO important, but I think 'kingdom of God' helps me keep the right focus. I've been trying, especially this past month, to return to a clearly spiritual emphasis: pointing out differences from other revolutionary causes, and stressing that we shouldn't follow Jesus for some physical or political payoff. So it's good to see how clearly 'the kingdom of God' describes a SPIRITUAL reality. God's kingdom is not seen like other nations or institutions. There is no capitol to be visited, no leader who directly addresses the people, no armies to intimidate aggressors. The kingdom of God is not visible in that sense. It is real, and present; but that real presence can only be experienced (for now) spiritually, though faith. There is true unity among the citizens of God's kingdom, though there are no local administration offices (despite churches trying to claim this title) and no ID cards. The only way to become a citizen is though faith and allegiance to God. This cannot be bought or faked (though other people may be fooled, God is never fooled). And this kingdom, as a spiritual reality, is also eternal. All other nations, institutions, organizations will eventually weaken, disappear, and be forgotten, but the kingdom of God will remain forever. Thus all our efforts for the sake of that kingdom have eternal significance. Allegiance and service to the kingdom of God has absolute and enduring value, now and always. Also, being a spiritual reality, the kingdom of God is not localized. Wherever we stand, we are at home in God's kingdom--though others may (and will) attack us as foreigners, faith recognizes that we are always within God's jurisdiction, under God's protection. Though everyone else may consider us pilgrims and exiles in society, WE know our citizenship has absolute validity always and everywhere.
	The kingdom of God is definitely a SPIRITUAL reality, but it is not completely invisible. There is evidence of its existence. Those who belong to God's kingdom act different; it is clear that their allegiance is to an unseen authority. Truly, we cannot serve two masters. We have to choose--because the kingdom of God is not a club, that asks us for a few hours a month. God's kingdom has its own leader, its own way of life, its own values. And these happen to be startlingly different from the leaders, ways, and values of all the other institutions of the world (different, not separate; God is concerned with every aspect of our lives, including all the things that human institutions are concerned with--there's the conflict). So we must take a stand and make our allegiance known. We need not (and should not) attack any other nation or institution. We should not struggle with such institutions about property or money. But we should denounce their lies and refuse to participate in their acts of coercion and oppression (economic or political). And, as often as necessary, we should suffer the indignation of those who distrust our "foreign" citizenship. All such words and actions make our allegiance known--and provide evidence (for others) of the  reality of God's kingdom. That's witness. The kingdom of God is definitely a spiritual reality, but it IS visible in the lives of those who know it and live for it. Their witness is evidence that "the kingdom of God has come near."