Stephen W. Hiemstra's Blog, page 246

29. Prayers of a Life in Tension by Stephen W. Hiemstra

Almighty Father.

Spare us, Lord, from a divided heart, an indecisive mind, and conniving spirit. Prune the eye that sins, a hand that grasps, and ears that itch to hear anything other than your word. Intensify our love of your law; give us gracious hearts and discerning minds. Plant in us your Holy Spirit, holy affections, and sanctified thoughts that we might be truthful to ourselves, to others, and, most of all, to you. Grant us your whole armor: the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness,  helmet of salvation, and sword of your word (Eph 6:13-17). That we might serve our entire lives as examples of your godliness, like your Son. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Coming Home

For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. (Phil 1:21)

Coming Home

By Stephen W. Hiemstra

My decision to study economics forced me to re-organize priorities both inside and outside school. In school, economics required supporting work in mathematics, statistics, and computer science which I had not taken. Outside of school, my volunteer work in the Indiana Public Research Group (INPIRG) was a constant distraction from my studies.

In my sophomore year of college (1973), for example, my volunteering included work on a local congressional campaign, community organizing, and support for other INPIRG projects. The congressional campaign involved chauffeuring a friend of mine, Charlotte, around the district in Indiana accompanying her on numerous campaign stops. The community organizing involved organizing local community groups on the west side (across the railroad tracks) of Bloomington to protest the city’s neglect in taking care of burned out house on the edge of town. The support for other INPIRG projects involved recruiting students for demonstrations and volunteering for things, like the weekly grocery store price survey, when other volunteers failed to show up.

Being a faithful volunteer was personally meaningful and introduced me to many interesting people both in the local community and on campus, but after I was turned down for a paid position as a community organizer for INPIRG, I started to feel abused. This feeling reached a boiling point when the executive director scheduled a defective-part demonstration at an automotive plant in Fort Wayne during exams week and asked me to recruit students to help out—I did my best, but ultimately I was the only student who was willing to attend the demonstration. After the demonstration and poor performance on exams, I decided to transfer to another school rather than study economics at Indiana University.

Transferring to another school proved more challenging than I initiated envisioned, in part, because in the spring of 1973 my parents moved from Maryland to Falls Church, Virginia. Virginia had good schools so, not thinking much about it, I applied for and was accepted at the College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia, thinking that I would save my parents money by going to school in state. School in Indiana would be over in April and summer school classes started in June, leaving me the month of May open to earn the money to pay for summer school expenses.

Earning summer school expenses in a month was just barely doable, if I worked construction during the day and worked in a restaurant at night. For construction, I worked as a plumber’s helper constructing the McLean House where, at first, I helped a plumber hang pipe, but, after the old veteran screwed it up his assignment, the foreman made it abundantly clear that my real job was to keep the plumber out of trouble—the trouble was that he “brown bagged” breakfast at six-thirty in the morning and to cover up his alcohol consumption drank profuse amounts of coffee all day. For restaurant work, I worked the dinner shift at Roy Rogers in Falls Church where I flipped burgers until after eleven and routinely closed out the place. Between construction and restaurant work, by the end of May I was so exhausted that at one point the foreman at the McLean House accused me of having fallen asleep while standing up. Asleep or awake, I earned my summer school expenses in a month.

At William and Mary that summer, I enrolled in principles of economics and calculus, lived in the Jefferson House, and worked washing dishes in George’s Campus Restaurant in Greek Town. I remember economics mostly because my professor smoked cigars blowing smoke and telling stories of his government service and because a pitcher of beer was my favorite study aid. Studying in Jefferson House, known best for its six-inch cockroaches, was a lost cause because of a lack of air conditioning and the intense summer heat. It was cooler washing dishes at George’s Campus Restaurant, where I enjoyed hanging out and got my only real meal of the day.

One day I received a letter in the mail from William and Mary informing me that I was being classified as an out-of-state student. This classification, which substantially increased my tuition costs and defeated my primary reason to return to Virginia from Indiana, caused me great distress and with letter in hand I went to visit the college president. The president, sitting behind a figure of three monkeys (hear no evil; see no evil; speak no evil) on his desk, quietly explained to me that, because I had an Indiana driver’s license and registered to vote in Indiana, that I was not a resident of Virginia. To that I responded: if I am not a Virginia resident, then what state am I a resident of? My parents no longer reside in Maryland where I grew up; I have never actually lived outside of school in Indiana; and Virginia is my only real home—how can I not be a resident? The legal answer was that I was not “domiciled” in Virginia because I could not at that point in my life know where I would live following graduation and Virginia required that I be domiciled in Virginia.

Domiciled or not, the president had actually done me a favor because William and Mary was not a good fit, both because of the small class sizes and strong influence of fraternities on student housing. The small class size meant that my cigar-smoking professor, who waxed eloquently about the distinguished history of tidewater Virginia to the detriment weightier topics, would be unavoidable. And, although I was not enamored with Jefferson House, I was even less interested in pledging a fraternity, in part, because of their culture and, in part, because of my own independent streak. The parochial outlook on life at William and Mary and the high tuition costs made the college a bad fit.

When I checked expenses at Iowa State University, where my father attended college, they were lower than at William and Mary College. Iowa State had the additional benefits of being closer to my grandparents and of having a nationally-recognized program in agricultural economics, which was of interest. The idea of studying at Iowa State also pleased everyone in my family. When I applied to and was accepted by Iowa State, I felt that I was truly coming home.

VanHoozer and Strachan Argue Case for Pastor-Theologian

Kevin J. Vanhoozer and Owen Strachan. 2015. The Pastor as Public Theologian: Reclaiming a Lost Vision. Grand Rapids: Baker Academic.

Review by Stephen W. Hiemstra

Amid periods of rapid social and philosophical change, tension in the church often revolves around our interpretation of the identity of Christ which, in turn, informs our sense of identity as Christians and other things, like worship. Worship and identity are practical applications of our theology because one of the primary tasks of theology is interpreting both the Bible and our world. Hence, theologian Karl Barth’s comment that pastors should preach with a Bible in one hand and a newspaper in the other clearly assumes that at the heart of the pastor’s role is applying theology.

In their new book, The Pastor as Public Theologian, Kevin J. Vanhoozer and Owen Strachan start with a harsh assessment:

“Societies become secular not when they dispense with religion altogether, but when they are no longer especially agitated by it. The church, the society of Jesus, is similarly in danger of becoming secular and in the very place where we would least expect it: its understanding of the clergy. This not because churches are dispensing with the pastorate, but because they no longer find its theological character particularly exciting or intelligible.” (1)

Their objective in writing is to “reclaim the theological pedigree of the world’s boldest profession” with three groups in mind—pastors, churches, and seminaries (2)—and against competing visions, such as the pastor as therapist, the pastor as political activist, the pastor as story-teller, the pastor as professional XYZ, and the pastor as manager (7-10). Against these competing visions, the author’s caution: “Without a biblical vision of the pastor, the people of God may indeed perish: they will certainly fail to prosper.” (15) In order to prosper, they write: “Success in ministry is determined not by numbers (e.g., people, programs, dollars) but by the increase of people’s knowledge and love of God.” (22)

In expanding our knowledge of the pastoral office, Kevin J. Vanhoozer and Owen Strachan collaborate with a number of pastors to write a series of 4 chapters, including:

 

Preface

Introduction:  Pastors, Theologians, and Other Public Figures

PART 1: Biblical Theology and Historical Theology

Of Prophets, Priests, and Kings: A Brief Biblical Theology of the Pastorate
Of Scholars and Saints: A Brief History of the Pastorate

PART 2: Systematic Theology and Practical Theology

In the Evangelical Mood: The Purpose of the Pastor-Theologian
Artisans in the House of God: The Practice of the Pastor-Theologian

Conclusion: Fifty-Five Summary Theses on the Pastor as Public Theologian

Notes

Contributors

Scriptural Index

Subject Index

 

The introduction and each of the four chapters includes short “pastoral perspectives” written by working pastors.

One of these pastor perspectives, written by Gerald Hiestand, offered some practical advice for would-be pastoral theologians in the form of 6 steps:

Hire staff with the vision to overcome isolation.
Network with like-minded pastors through Skype, ETS or blogging.
Make study-time a priority in the weekly schedule.
Get buy-in from your leadership.
Remember that theology serves the church, not vice versa.
You do your work in a “study”, not an “office”—Bureaucrats work in offices while theologians have studies (29-31).

Personally, my study time in the morning minimally includes journaling, studying, reading, and praying for 30 to 60 minutes before wandering out to swim laps, but as a writer I spend more time in my “study” than would be typical for pastors.

In the Old Testament, three anointed offices are described—priest, prophet, and king (40)—which today describe different aspects of the role of Christ in the New Testament. Concerning these anointed offices, the authors write: “The priest was a man set apart by the Lord to be an on-the-ground mediator of holiness between God and the people.” (4) “The prophets exercised the ministry of truth-telling.” (44) The king personified divine wisdom (46). These three anointed offices do not readily transfer to the role of pastor, as the authors observe:

“Priestly ministry was centered around the teaching and performance of the law. Pastoral ministry is centered around the person and work of Christ” (49).

Still, aspects of these three anointed offices inform the role of a pastor and the interpretation of each of the roles differs among denominations, ethnic communities, and age groups, as is frequently observed.

An important observation repeated throughout the book is that throughout church history the best theology was often written by pastors, not academics, as the authors observe:

“…it is easy to forget that Jonathan Edwards spent little time in the ivory tower. He was never a professor in the modern sense. Edwards composed many of his treatises in the middle of a demanding pastorate, at the largest church in New England, outside of Boston. Later he wrote soaring theological works on the Massachusetts frontier while serving as a missionary.” (82-83)

This observation remains a valid point today as many of my own influences—Barth, Bonhoeffer, Ortberg, Sproul, Lucado, Peterson, Keller—are better known as pastors than academics, even if they have freely moved between the academy and the church.

Clearly, a lot more could be said about this book.

Kevin Vanhoozer and Owen Strachan’s The Pastor as Public Theologian is timely resource on where pastors ought rightly to be spending their time, which is unfortunately much needed by some of my best friends who are pastors. Pastoral burnout is a huge problem for the church, not only because of the loss of great talent, but also because “pastor as dervish” is a poor model for a church that, presumably, glorifies the “Lord of the Sabbath”. A better model is the pastor-theologian presented in this book—buy it; enjoy It; share it in a group study.

REFERENCES

Barth, Karl. 1991. Homelitics. Louisville: Westminister John Knox Press.

 

Barth’s comment, which is widely cited by his students, appears nowhere in his writing. Instead, we read: “theology as a church discipline ought in all its branches to be nothing other than sermon preparation in the broadest sense.” (Barth 1991,17).

Vanhoozer is a research professor of systemic theology at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in Chicago and the author of numerous books (http://divinity.tiu.edu/academics/faculty/kevin-vanhoozer).

Strachan is a professor of Christian Theology at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and the author of numerous books (http://www.mbts.edu/about/faculty/owen-strachan).

I am currently studying First Samuel which has been surprisingly fruitful.

Sample review: Bonhoeffer’s Nachfolge:  Following After Christ (http://wp.me/p3Xeut-y9),

Review: Ortberg Sharpens and Freshens Jesus (http://wp.me/p3Xeut-138).

Review: Lucado Calls Out Fear; Instills Peace (http://wp.me/p3Xeut-99).

28. Prayers of a Life in Tension by Stephen W. Hiemstra

Father of Creation, Beloved Son, Spirit of Truth,

Bind our wayward hearts with your law; sing to us of your love. Gather our confused thoughts in your grace; center them on your truth. Separate us from evil influences, harsh temptations, and trials we cannot bear. Walk with us when the sun fails to shine, the rain draws near, and our paths become unclear.Sit with us while storms rage, our strength weakens, and our health flees. Guide us when our friends are distant and our troubles are ever near. Grant us strength for the day; grace for those we meet; and peace. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Listening and Talking

“The words of a wise man’s mouth win him favor,

but the lips of a fool consume him.” (Eccl 10:12)

Listening and Talking

By Stephen W. Hiemstra

My first year of college at Indiana University I lived and worked in the Graduate Residence Center (GRC) where everyone had a roommate, telephones were in the hall, and two of the three buildings housed men. Because GRC had both men’s and women’s buildings, it was considered co-educational.

My education in dealing with the opposite sex was less exciting than one might believe from recent movies. The movie that everyone talked about in 1972 was Dustin Hoffman’s The Graduate (1967) where a high school graduate is seduced by an older woman and falls in love with her daughter.[1] The only older women that I met were professors and, although I became acquainted with many young women, they were more interested in dating older guys who were experienced in social settings and could afford to date.

Money was always a problem in college. Although my dad paid my college tuition and room and board, every other expense—books, travel, and entertainment—came out of my account. By Christmas of my freshman year my bank account was pretty much empty of savings from my summer work in high school and I started the New Year working in cafeteria where I normally was assigned to the dish machine, but occasionally worked the cafeteria food line. I enjoyed working the line because I soon became acquainted with just about everyone in GRC, including the co-eds. Still, dating co-eds required money and most of my money went to books and traveling home over vacations—even pizza money for Sunday evening dinner was hard to come by and required strict budgeting. My budget simply did not include money for dating.

Dating was not really on my mind in my freshman year, not only because I could not afford it, but because I missed a close friend back at home in Maryland. For me, she was like the freshwater pike that got away and grew longer and more ornery with each telling of the tale, vaccinating me from the advances from other women. Vaccinated or not, it was easier telling myself that my standards were too high than to admit that it was painful seeing older guys date my female friends.

With friends in high school on a date, conversation might be about common things, like a class or activity that we shared, but it often quickly wandered into more serious matters, like plans for the future and how many children that you wanted to have. Future plans were a perfect date topic because in the 1970s dating was treated like a job interview for marriage and guys naturally paid for dinner and activities to demonstrate their willingness (and hopefully future ability) to provide for a family, should they marry. Marriage was on everyone’s mind which made dating, like an important job interview, an activity that made almost everyone nervous, because everyone obsessed about being the perfect date.

Unable to date, hanging out with female friends in college was unscripted, awkward, and without an obvious social context—what do you even talk about? I knew almost everyone in GRC from working in the cafeteria, but “I see that you really like green beans” is a pickup line not suggesting a lengthy conversation. Real conversation required common ground that was frequently lacking and verbal skills that I simply did not possess and that were not in the curriculum. In searching for common ground, I soon discovered a friend from high school lived in GRC and made friends with another girl who grew up in Montgomery County, Maryland. In developing verbal skills, I soon discovered “the question”.

Questions were cool because you could ask a question and listen potentially for hours to the answer, speaking only occasionally to say something like “yeah” or “tell me more”, because most people love to talk. I loved questions and became a good listener, but there is one problem with questions—they only really worked well in one-on-one conversation. Once two becomes three, conversation takes on a competitive element and it is not cool to dominate the conversation for too long. When conversation morphed into a group dialogue, as I discovered in my freshman year, I was lost both because of my limited social skills and because I did not perceive a social context suggesting that being the “life of the party” was important. More important was that I learn to earn a living and reach a point where I might support a family.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Gra....

Bacevich Explains U.S. Political Economy Post WWII

Andrew J. Bacevich. 2008.  The Limits of Power:  The End of American Exceptionalism. New York: Metropolitan Books.

Review by Stephen W. Hiemstra

Political economy—the nexus between policy, philosophy, history, and economics—is never more important than in transition periods when the old rules no longer apply and the new rules have yet to be crafted. Yet, those who practice this craft are often castigated both by the old guard resisting change (and rewarding those that aid their resistance) and by specialists defending their professional turf (and under-appreciating the irrelevance of the division of labor in a period of fundamental change). Faced with such changes, it is refreshing to read an author, such as Andrew Bacevich, who is up to challenges posed.

In his book, The Limits to Power, Bacevich frames the current dilemma as a political economic problem, writing:

“The United States today finds itself threatened by three interlocking crises: The first of these crises is economic and cultural, the second political, and the third military. All three share this characteristic: they are of our own making.” (6).

Framing this crisis as internal, Bacevich is swimming against the tide—our problem is not, as widely perceived, a problem created by Osama Bin Laden on September 11 or by OPEC in 1973. Looking into the heart of America, Bacevich sees “our pursuit of life, liberty, and happiness” run amok in the face of limits that we refuse to accept and that now erode national power, as our principles, our heritage, our resources, our middle class, our allies, and our military preparedness have been thrown under the bus by leaders attempting to forestall the day of reckoning (9).  Because Bacevich sees this reckoning composed of three related crisis, let me examine each in turn.

The Economic and Cultural Crisis. In discussing the crisis of “profligacy”, Bacevich sees the Jefferson trinity of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” having been reduced in the current age to one word: “more”. He  writes:

“For the majority of contemporary Americans, the essence of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness centers on a relentless personal quest to acquire, to consume, to indulge, and to shed whatever constraints might interfere with those endeavors.” (16)

This is not a new endeavor; Alexis de Tocqueville noted in the 1830s that Americans possessed a “feverish ardor” to accumulate (17). More recently, this ardor was observed by Reinhold Niebuhr as being manifested in a tendency to “seek a solution to practically every problem of life in quantitative terms” assuming that “more is better” (23). Buttressed by Charles Maier’s America’s “empire of production” after World War II (WWII), America’s “empire of consumption” continued to provide “more” until reaching a tipping point in the period between 1965 and 1971, as Bacevich observes:

“The costs of the Vietnam War—and President Johnson’s attempt to conceal them while pursuing his vision of the Great Society—destabilizing the economy, as evidenced by deficits, inflation, and a weakening dollar. In August 1971, Nixon tacitly acknowledged the disarray into which the economy had fallen by devaluing the dollar and suspending its convertibility into gold.” (29)

Bacevich sees this deepening economic crisis coming to a head a decade later in Jimmy Carter’s famous “malaise speech” (July 15, 1979) where he spelled out that a sustainable future required living within our means (31-36). Carter’s analysis was soundly rejected by the American people who overwhelmingly elected Ronald Reagan based on two related ideas: “credit has no limits and the bills will never come due” (36). Modeled on the unlimited federal deficits, personal savings which average 8-10 percent of disposable income for most of the postwar period, fell to practically zero in 1985 (44).

The economic consequences of the Reagan deficits were reversed during the Clinton years only to be reinstated during George W. Bush’s presidency when the debt accumulated effectively reduced the federal government from a prime to a sub-prime borrower, using debt-to-income standards applied normally to individuals. Of course, debt issues have their implications for politics.

The Political Crisis. Bacevich observes that “American democracy in our time has suffered notable decade”, a decade that has its roots in the response to WWII and to the Cold War and that had the effect of concentrating significant power in the executive branch of government (67-68). While the government’s response to September 11 is often cited in development of an ideology of national security, Bacevich sees the George W. Bush’s contribution being primarily in articulating existing convictions. Bush’s second inaugural address cited 4 convictions:

“History’s abiding theme is freedom, to which all humanity aspires…”
“America has always been, and remains, freedom’s chief exemplar and advocate…”
“Providence summons America to ensure freedom’s ultimate triumph…”
“…for the American way of life to endure, freedom must prevail everywhere.” (74-75)

The idea that American can and should intervene in defend of freedom elsewhere in the world, Bacevich notes, “imposes no specific obligations” and serves primarily “to legitimate the exercise of executive power” (77). So legitimatized, military intervention has become the preferred political instrument in a world with only one super-power and for a people whose desire for “more” seems insatiable. This ideology accordingly serves as a reasonable explanation for why the end of the Cold War did not result in the much promised peace dividend and war, not peace, has become the norm (1), thanks, in part, to the Bush doctrine of “anticipatory self-defense” (117) which justified preventive wars, like the Iraq war to unseat Saddam Hussein.

The Military Crisis. Citing Corelli Barnett, Bacevich described war as the “great auditor of institutions” and observes:

“Valor does not offer the measure of an army’s greatness, nor does fortitude, nor durability, nor technological sophistication. A great is one that accomplishes its assigned mission. Since George W. Bush inaugurated his global war on terror, the armed forces of the United States have failed to meet that standard.” (124)

Bacevich explains this failure in great detail, but the short answer is that the use of military needs to be undertaken in the context of political objectives and, when the politicians—including military politicians, become fascinated with the technologies of war, the political context frequently is ignored—tactics displace strategy leaving only a muddle. Having reviewed the muddle, Bacevich concludes:

“America doesn’t need a bigger army. It needs a smaller—that is, more modest—foreign policy, one that assigns soldiers missions that are consistent with their capabilities.” (169)

Andrew Bacevich is a retired U.S. Army colonel who taught history and international relationship at Boston University. He is a graduate of West Point with both master’s and doctor of philosophy degrees from Princeton University. He is the author of numerous books.

Andrew Bacevich’s book, The Limits of Power, ties together many aspects of U.S. history and, for me as an economist with 27 years of service in 5 different federal agencies, adequately explains much of the recent dysfunction (lack of sustainability) of the federal government. For readers who are neither political junkies nor Washington insiders, this may be a challenging book to read and understand because Bacevich challenges many of the assumptions normally taught in high school civics classes. In any case, it is a book well worth reading.

27. Prayers of a Life in Tension by Stephen W. Hiemstra

Holy and Eternal Father,

We praise you for your mercy and grace through Jesus Christ who died for our sins before we were even born. We confess that you and you alone are holy. From our mother’s womb we have tried your patience and even now come to you with blood stained hands. Forgive us in our rebellion against your covenant and against your son. In the power of your Holy Spirit, cleanse our hearts and minds that we might become fit stewards of your mercy and grace to those among us who have not heard the good news or have rejected it on account of our sin and folly. Draw us to yourself today across the gaps that separate us that we might have new life in you, this day, and forever more. In Jesus’ precious name, Amen.

The Dish Machine

“But when he came to himself, he said, How many of

my father’s hired servants have more than enough bread,

but I perish here with hunger!” (Luke 15:17)

The Dish Machine

By Stephen W. Hiemstra

In the fall of my senior year in high school, I used the money that I earned as a camp counselor during the summer at Goshen Scout Camps to buy a new Conn 88h trombone. My interest in music quickly escalated and I announced my interest in studying music in college. My decision to study music came to the chagrin of my music teacher, who being the tuba player in the National Symphony Orchestra, arranged for me to begin lessons with a trombonist, also with the National Symphony Orchestra. Between my trombone, my new teacher, and my new practice schedule, it became clear that I was under-prepared for spring auditions even as I applied to the music department at Indiana University (IU). When I clutched in the audition, unable to play even a Bb scale, I was so ashamed of myself that I gave up the trombone and could not enjoy classical music for more than a decade. Unable to study music, I traveled to Bloomington, Indiana in the fall of 1972 as a freshman without a major.

In the fall, IU registration was a chaotic event in which students entered a large auditorium with tables set up for the different departments and walked between the tables to sign up for classes. Once enrolled in a sufficient number of classes, students stood in line to pay for your tuition before exiting. As I waited in line, I met a volunteer with the Indiana Public Interest Research Group (INPIRG), a student group funded by a tuition checkoff, and he invited me to an organizational meeting to learn more about the group. Intrigued, I checked off INPIRG on my tuition form and attended the meeting where I was elected as a student representative to the INPIRG board of directors.

INPIRG quickly became a home away from home. As an INPIRG director, my friends were mostly law students who identified with Ralph Nader who was famous for his work on automobile safety [1]. Nader’s new book in 1971, Action for a Change: A Student’s Manual for Public Interest Organizing, which led to the organization of the student PIRGs [2], such as INPIRG, all over the country. In INPIRG, I chaired the personnel committee which hired an executive director that fall and I directed a new bookstore pricing survey which quickly became popular among students.

My volunteer work as a “Nader Raider” was less popular with my roommate who was a business major. He spent most of his time practicing his putting and ganged up with a student across the hall to torment me when I studied for exams. In view of such torments, I quickly moved into a private room in the German Language House, because of my interest in German literature and language studies, and out of the Graduate Residence Center (GRC).

Still, before I left, GRC helped me expand on my work with INPIRG. More than just the first co-educational dormitory on campus, GRC faculty advisers worked closely with residents to initiate independent study programs. In my case, I developed a program in the spring of my freshman year that allowed me to assist almost full-time in an INPIRG study of Indiana state government offices. My contribution to the study involved studies of two offices: a new state regulator of private schools and the state department of weights and measures. Both studies required travel to Indianapolis to interview state officials, background reading assignments, and lengthy written reports.

Between my independent study project and the bookstore survey, in INPIRG I was heavily involved in political and economic research. This research did not, however, mix well with my other studies, particularly my studies in German literature where I struggled to keep up and where I clearly could not identify with the nihilism so prevalent in postmodern literature. The despair in contemporary literature seriously disturbed me, even though I did not attend church during these years, and I had trouble envisioning a future majoring in literature.

In my distress, I visited a professor in the comparative literature department to seek counsel where I asked: “where should I aspire to attend graduate school if I continue studying comparative literature?” Harvard University, he answered. Then, I asked: “how many IU students have been admitted to graduate studies in comparative literature at Harvard University?” None, he answered, stoking my distress.

Being one of the few men living at this point in the German Language House, I sought refuge from my distress in attending the many campus parties that I was invited to. The parties were good, but they kept me up late and Sunday morning I was scheduled to work the dish machine at 6:00 a.m. The early shift on Sunday mornings was lite work because hardly anyone got up for breakfast and I could just sleep—nobody knew; nobody cared.

One Sunday morning I will never forget—I woke up hanging over the dish machine with a terrible hangover from the party the night before. Smarting from the hangover, I resolved that I could not continue doing what I had been doing—bogged down in depressive literature and being manipulated into self-destructive political activism—where I would never finish school or find a career. Knowing from experience that politicians mostly argue about economics and economic studies were doable, I decided to follow in my father’s footsteps and become an economist.

[1] Unsafe at Any Speed: The Designed-in Dangers of the American Automobile (New York: Grossman Publishers, 1965).

[2] New York: Grossman Publishers.

Nouwen: Make Space for Self, Others, and God

Henri J.M. Nouwen. 1975. Reaching Out: The Three Movements of the Spiritual Life. New York: DoubleDay.

Review by Stephen W. Hiemstra

A ministry friend once distinguished problems from polarities arguing that problems, unlike polarities, have solutions while polarities can only be managed. For example,  an umbrella manages our response to rain, but does not solve the problem posed by rain;  having an umbrella simply makes rain more tolerable. Ministry would be more tolerable, my friend advised, if I learned to manage polarities rather than treating them as problems to be solved. Because unsolvable polarities are everywhere in life and ministry, I never forgot my friend’s advice.

Three polarities lie at the heart of our spiritual life says Henri Nouwen, who describes them in his book, Reaching Out, as: an inner movement from loneliness to solitude, an outward movement from hostility to hospitality, and an upward movement from illusion to prayer (20). These movements each potentially involve progress—hence, the term, movement—but for Nouwen this progress is tentative and subject to lifelong tension (39). He writes: “the spiritual life is that constant movement between the poles of loneliness and solitude, hostility and hospitality, illusion and prayer.” (20) Tension suggests a struggle with polarity, not fully defined, but clearly lived and felt, both in heart and mind.

This struggle with both head and mind components distinguishes writing in spirituality from theology where the logic of the mind is more narrowly the focus. Nouwen focuses immediately on the question—“What does it mean to live a life in the Spirit of Jesus Christ?”—and links this question to one Jesus himself poses: “Some say. . .others say. . .but what do you say?” (16-17) What we say is immediately pertinent because Nouwen sees spirituality discussions as intensely personal—an attribute not easily avoided even in an academic setting. In this setting or any other, “we have to face and explore directly our inner restlessness, our mixed feelings towards others, and our deep-seated suspicions about the absence of God.” (17). In these three movements, Nouwen is clearly inviting us into his spiritual struggles and the tone of the book is captured in its title.

The title, Reaching Out, captures Nouwen’s sense of the three movements, around which he structures the book (17) into 9 chapters, preceded by a foreword and introduction, and followed by a conclusion and notes:

Foreword

Introduction

  REACHING OUT TO OUR INNERMOST SELF—The First Movement From Loneliness To Solitude

A Suffocating Loneliness
A Receptive Solitude
A Creative Response

  REACH OUT TO OUR FELLOW HUMAN BEINGS—The Second Movement From Hostility To Hospitality

Creating Space for Strangers
Forms of Hospitality
Hospitality and the Host

  REACHING OUT TO OUR GOD—The Third Movement From Illusion To Prayer

Prayer and Mortality
The Prayer of the Heart
Community and Prayer

  Conclusion

Notes (15)

In addition to being a prodigious author, Nouwen was a Catholic priest and longtime academic who went to live and work in the L’Arche-Daybreak Community (of special needs individuals) in Toronto, Canada, laying down the academic life much like Jesus laid his clothes aside to wash the disciple’s feet (John 13:4-5).

Let me turn aside now to focus on the three movements.

Movement from Loneliness to Solitude. As an observant priest who suffered from same-sex attractions, Nouwen felt loneliness deeply, describing it as: “one of the most universal sources of human suffering today.” (25) Even in his suffering, Nouwen goes on to write:

“The movement from loneliness to solitude, however, is the beginning of any spiritual life because it is the movement from restless senses to the restful spirit, from the outward-reaching cravings to the inward-reaching search, from the fearful clinging to the fearless play.” (34-35)

The key words here are restful spirit (Sabbath), inward-reaching search (an attentive heart and mind), and play—play! Play usually distinguishes adults from children—a child of God must learn to play. For Nouwen, this play makes space in our life for others (40) because we are more rested, “alert and aware of the world around us” (50)—Nouwen’s vision of solitude, which, unlike loneliness, develops the inner resources that make hospitality to others possible (61-62).

Movement from Hostility to Hospitality. Much like solitude provides the inner space to admit others, hospitality provides outward space for others where “the stranger can enter and become a friend, instead of an enemy” (71). Nouwen (66-67) gives three biblical examples including Abraham’s hospitality to three strangers (Gen 18:1-15), the widow of Zarephath hospitality to Elijah in spite of her own poverty (1 Kgs 17:9-24), and the two travelers on the road to Emmaus who unknowingly offered hospitality to Jesus (Luke 24:13-35). In each case, Nouwen writes:

“When hostility is converted into hospitality then fearful strangers can become guests revealing to their hosts the promise they are carrying with them.” (67).

For Nouwen, hospitality accordingly offers the possibility of transforming strangers into friends and for the friends to respond with their own gift, promise, and new life (67). This new life is instrumental in the case of parents offering space to children (81-84), teachers offering space to students (84-90), and healers offering space to patients (91-97). Just from the space devoted to hospitality, it is clear that hospitality is for Nouwen a primal concern—and because lonely people cannot offer much space, solitude is a key prerequisite for hospitality (101), which necessarily brings us to God.

Movement from Illusion to Prayer. No paths up the mountain lead to God; God must come down, as Nouwen relates:

“. . . the paradox of prayer is that it asks for a serious effort while it can only be received as a gift. We cannot plan, organize, or manipulate God; but without a careful discipline, we cannot receive him either.” (126)

Nouwen notes the problem of finding a spiritual guide, but finds wisdom in praying the Jesus prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.” (141) Also known as a breathe prayer, I was taught the Jesus prayer working in a Catholic hospital as a substitute for the negative self-talk often practiced by psychiatric patients. Because we all practice negative self-talk, the motivation to engage in continuous prayer (or to pray the Jesus prayer) is much the same—it makes space in our hearts for God, who grants us capacity for both solitude and hospitality.

Henri Nouwen’s Reaching Out has been a significant influence on my spiritual life since I first read in 2007 and it continues to influence my professional writing. Like all of Nouwen’s writing, it is easily read but understood only through reflection, like any classic in Christian spirituality. Christians serious about deepening their faith will want to spend some time with this book.

 

http://www.LArcheDaybreak.com.

Wil Hernandez, Henri Nouwen: A Spirituality of Imperfection, (New York: Paulist Press, 2006),page 126.

26. Prayers of a Life in Tension by Stephen W. Hiemstra

God of all mercy and grace,

We praise you for creating the heaven and the earth, all that is, that was, and that will ever be; all things seen and unseen. We look upon your creation, smile, and praise your name. We praise you for the example of your son, our savior, Jesus Christ— who in life lived in service to others, who in death atoned for our sin, and who in rising from the death granted us hope and life. We see your son’s example and feel your love for us. We praise you for your Holy Spirit, who draws us to you, grants every good gift, and provides all things. We look upon your spirit’s power in the world and break out in praise. My your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven today and every day, with us and through us. In Jesus’ name, Amen.