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257 pages, Hardcover
First published March 13, 2007
The monastery presents an alternative lifestyle that implicitly criticizes the greed, injustice, and oppression of our everyday world. It is a mode of semicommunal or fully communal life witnessing that violence is not the inevitability of human nature but only the normalcy of human civilization... Monsteries... are witnesses that the escalatory violence of civilization is not the inevitable destiny of humankind, even though the brutal normalcy of civilization will seek to co-opt and corrupt that monastic witness. (pp. 46-7)
[T]he two final divine solutions for the problem of Gentile empires, the Noachic solution of extermination by force and violence and the Abrahamic solution of conversion to justice and peace, are never reconciled anywhere in the biblical tradition. They are there together from one end of it to the other. Indeed, they often coexist in the same book or even in the same chapter. So once again, are we to take them both and worship a God of both violence and nonviolence, or must we choose between them and recognize, as I am arguing, that the Bible proposes the radicality of a nonviolent God struggling with the normalcy of a violent civilization? Is that its dignity, its integrity, its authority—for any Christian—and its value for any human being? (p.88)
The ambiguity of divine power suffuses the Christian Bible in both its Testaments and therefore presses this question for us as Christians: how do we reconcile the ambiguity of our Bible's violent and/or nonviolent God? My proposal is that the Christian Bible presents the radicality of a just and nonviolent God repeatedly and relentlessly confronting the normalcy of an unjust and violent civilization. Again and again throughout the biblical tradition, God's radical vision for nonviolent justice is offered, and again and again we manage to mute it back into the normalcy of violent injustice. (p. 94)
[T]o claim an already-present Kingdom demands some evidence, and the only such that Jesus could have offered is this: it is not that we are waiting for God, but that God is waiting for us. The present Kingdom is a collaborative eschaton between the human and divine worlds. The Great Divine Cleanup is an interactive process with a present beginning in time and a future (short or long?) consummation. Would it happen without God? No. Would it happen without believers? No. To see the presence of the Kingdom of God, said Jesus, come, see how we live, and then live likewise....
To experience the Kingdom, he asserted, come, see how we live, and then live like us. This invitation presumes that Jesus was promulgating not just a vision or a theory but a praxis and a communal program, and that this program was not just for himself but for others as well. What was it?
Basically it was this: heal the sick, eat with those you heal, and announce the Kingdom's presence in that mutuality. (p. 116, 118)
It is crucially important, especially in the light of ancient and enduring Christian anti-Judaism, to be quite clear that this double demonstration [i.e. chasing the "money lenders" out of the Temple] was not against Judaism as such, not against Jerusalem as such, not against the Temple as such, and not against the high priesthood as such. It was a protest from the legal and prophetic heart of Judaism against Jewish religious cooperation with Roman imperial control. It was, at least for Christian followers of Jesus, then or now, a permanently valid protest demonstration against any capital city's collusion between conservative religion and imperial violence at any time and in any place. (p. 132)
It is certainly correct... to call Jesus's death—or in fact the death of any martyr—a sacrifice, but substitution and suffering are not the point of sacrifice. Substitutionary atonement is bad as theoretical Christian theology just as suicidal terrorism is bad as practical Islamic theology. Jesus died because of our sins, or from our sins, but that should never be misread as for our sins. In Jesus, the radicality of God became incarnate, and the normalcy of civilization's brutal violence (our sins, or better, Our Sin) executed him. Jesus's execution asks us to face the truth that, across human evolution, injustice has been created and maintained by violence while justice has been opposed and avoided by violence. That warning, if heeded, can be salvation. (pp. 140-1)
[Paul] told [the Ephesians] to "work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure." (2:12b–13). But if God does all the willing and working, why should we fear and tremble? Not because the radicality of God will punish us if we fail, but because the normalcy of civilization will punish us if we succeed. (p. 164)
My proposal is that justice and love are a dialectic—like two sides of a coin that can be distinguished but not separated. We think of ourselves as composed of body and soul, or flesh andspirit. When they are separated, we have a physical corpse. Similarly with distributive justice and communal love. Justice is the body of love, love the soul of justice. Justice is the flesh of love, love is the spirit of justice. When they are separated, we have moral corpse. Justice without love is brutality. Love without justice is banality. (p. 190)
[T]he full Rapture program [in the U.S.] cannot be readily dismissed as simple religious fantasy arising from faith's freewheeling imagination. For those who accept its vision, there are very specific connections to American foreign policy relations in the volatile Middle East. For example, how can there ever be both a Palestinian and an Israeli state between the Mediterranean and the Jordan if it is against God's end-time plans for Jesus's return? (p. 201)
[A]s Christianity follows John [of Patmos, author of The Book of Revelations] in emphasizing the Second over the First Coming, and apocalypse over incarnation, it finds itself waiting for God to act violently while God is waiting for us to act nonviolently. (p. 230)
It is the radicality of God's justice and not the normalcy of civilization's injustice that, as a Christian, I find incarnate in Jesus of Nazareth. Thereafter, within the Christian Bible's New Testament, first Paul of Tarsus lives and proclaims that same radical God until his vision is deradicalized by the pseudo-Pauline letters, and finally, John of Patmos deradicalizes the nonviolent Jesus on the donkey by transforming him into the violent Jesus on the battle stallion. (p. 238)
The good news... is that the violent normalcy of human civilization is not the inevitable destiny of human nature. Christian faith and human evolution agree on that point. Since we invented civilization some six thousand years ago along the irrigated floodplains of great rivers, we can also un-invent it—we can create its alternative. In the challenge of Christian faith, we are called to cooperate in establishing the Kingdom of God in a transformed earth. In the challenge of human evolution, we are called to Post-Civilization, to imagine it, to create it, and to enjoy it on a transfigured earth. (pp. 241-2)