Andrew Engelhardt

Help Me Read and Understand Alasdair MacIntyre

I've gained a new appreciation for fiction (specifically, science-fiction) since graduating from seminary.  These books have impacted my thought and intellect far beyond what I ever considered to be possible.  But I've sensed a longing over the past few months to tackle some of the texts that I was never able to tackle while studying in seminary.  One of those books is Alasdair MacIntyre's After Virtue.  It's difficult to think of a professor that did not mention this book during a lecture, or a syllabus that did not have it included under the recommended readings section, or a required text that did not reference it as foundational to their own argument.  Nevertheless, I was somehow able to make it through the entire program without ever having read it.

I picked the book up and began reading shortly after Christmas, but today find myself only on  page 32 of 278.  It's frustrating.  I can't tell if the issue is that it really is a very challenging book, or if I am just un-practiced in following logical argument or the niche language of moral philosophy (also contributing is the little eight month old who takes up most of the "reading time").  Either way, I need something to assist me in understanding MacIntyre's work and have decided that I once again need to utilize writing on this blog as a method for processing.  Also, I hope that this does not turn out to be a stale outline or summary of MacIntrye (or at least what I take MacIntyre to be saying), but instead has some type of practical insight for what we are trying to do in Westmont.

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MacIntyre begins by setting up a fictious scenario in which the natural sciences are blamed for devastating natural disasters.  The general public therefore riots and destroys all traces of the natural sciences (laboratories burnt down, physicists lynched, books and instruments destroyed).  Years later, a group of people attempt to revive the sciences, but all they are left with are fragments:

a knowledge of experiments detached from any knowledge of the theoretical context which gave them signifiance; parts of theories unrelated either to the other bits and pieces of theory which they possess or to experiement; instruments whose use has been forgotten; half-chapters from books, single pages from articles, not always fully legible because torn and charred (1).

MacIntyre's hypothesis is that "the actual world which we inhabit the language of morality is in the same state of grave disorder as the language of natural science in the imaginary world which I described" (2).  The moral arguments that we find ourselves obsessed over (i.e. - just war, abortion, equality) are incommesurable.  These arguments are largely circular, for they attempt to grasp rationality, even though the dominant emotivist culture allows no space for the rational (only feelings or attitudes).  This is the situation we find ourselves in today: a time filled with mere remnants of moral language/argument, without the narrative that makes moral discourse actually possible.

Is Marriage (today) a sign that MacIntyre is correct?

The first 30 pages are packed, and I am sure that I have misunderstood much.  It is exciting material though.  While watching the news the other day, I saw a segment in which an interviewer was asking people on the street whether or not they thought marriage should be abandoned in our culture, given the shockingly high divorce rates.  The responses varied, but the majority of people wanted to hold onto marriage as a cultural practice. 

From the little I understand of the book so far, marriage seems to be a clear sign that MacIntyre is correct.  The vows spoken to one another in a marriage bind two together in a commitment: specifically, a type of commitment that is for all of life.  Yet, marriage as a cultural practice cannot account for why two people should stay together through "good times and bad, in sickness and in health."

Anyway, I had to spend a few moments writing down some thoughts about the book so far and what I understand MacIntyre to be getting at.  For those of you who have read it, feel free to correct me where I have misunderstood, clarify MacIntyre's assertions, or offer advice on how to grasp the remainder of the book.

 

Review of and Quotes from Stanley Hauerwas', "Hannah's Child: A Theologian's Memoir"

 I have read very few memoirs in my life.  This is not because I do not enjoy them, but because I have always been pre-occupied with other genres.  I love reading books on theology.  I love reading narrative.  I was never drawn to an intersection of these two.  

However, after a paradigm-shattering summer as a chaplain intern in the emergency department, the strict lines that I had drawn between theology and narrative became blurred.  I began to sense that "theology proper" could not - and should not - be separated from the lives of people and the cultures where God can actually be understood as active and moving.

As a student at Northern Theological Seminary, I have been immersed in the writing and thought of Stanley Hauerwas.  His work crept into my courses in ethics, as well as studies of the church.  He had a profound and influential voice on my understanding of the church.  His voice was prophetic against the staining of the church by capitalism, justice without Christ, and ethics void of formation in community.  His thought has greatly influenced my professors and friends, whose intellectual abilities I greatly respect and admire.  Although I am far from having read his work exhaustively, I consider myself to be an avid learner of his theological and philosophical reasoning.

After completing my final required reading list of graduate school on Sunday, I was ecstatic to pick up his recently published memoir, Hannah's Child: A Theologians Memoir.  I was interested to know how Hauerwas' understanding of God and the world had been shaped throughout his life.

It proved to be a marvelous read.  Hauerwas learned early on that his mother had dedicated him to the Lord's care, just as Hannah had dedicated Samuel.  Similarly, Hauerwas came to realize an additional similarity between his story and Samuels: living in an in-between time.  Samuel's in-between time was in a story of Israel's transition from judges to kings; Hauerwas' has played a "Samuel-like role," challening the religious establishment of the day, "to warn Christians that having a king is not the best idea in the world, at least if you think a king can make you safe" (4).

The memoir is an honest telling of tragedy and joy throughout his life as an academic, as a husband to a mentally ill wife, as a father, and as a preacher.  After finishing the memoir, Hauerwas was asked by friends what he had learned through the process of writing it.  He responds:

I am tempted to say that I have learned how fortunate I am to have had such good friends, but that would be stating the obvious.  I might also reply that I now realize how lucky I have been, but that would be killing time in the hope of discovering something to say.  There are other possibilities.  But in fact what i have learned is quite simple -- I am a Christian.  How interesting. (284)

Many times, when I finish a theology book, I walk away with the feeling that "I have the answers."  Or I will read a story of an unswerving saint who never questions - even to the point of death - and be motivated to go and live a great and impacting life.  After completing Hauerwas' memoir, I do not think I have all of the answers, nor do I think that I need to perfect my life in order to change the world.  I am inspired to be a person of peace and patience, because as a Christian, I can affirm that "through the cross and resurrection we have been given the time to be patient in a world of impatience." (274).  I am challenged to walk daily with my eyes open, identifying in the world instances of God's redemption and work.  I am challenged to love and serve my wife.  

I would highly recommend this book to you all.  Even if you are not aware of his impact on the discipline of theology, you will be blessed by reading an honest story of God working not through the miraculous, but through the everyday things.  I did not have a highlighter with me (as I usually do) when I began reading the memoir.  I thought that I would be reading a story of a person, where taking notes and highlighting sections over others would not be necessary; after fifteen pages, I realized that I would need multiple highlighters.  I wish that I could post all of the quotes that have forced me to stop and ponder, but this blog would be a mile long.  Therefore, below are a few of the quotes which I found to be most insightful.

Speaking about his use of "profanity" in writing and speech:

I suspect my use of profanity was more complex than simply an attempt to stay connected with my working-class roots. I also used the language of the job [bricklaying] in school and church because I discovered that speaking this way upset the pious, and I took delight in that result.  I hated the hypocrisy that niceness cloaks. 28

More quotes

But there is no substitute for learning to be a Christian by being in the presence of significant lives made significant by being Christian. 95

Nonviolence is not a recommendation, an ideal, that Jesus suggested we might try to live up to.  Rather, nonviolence is constitutive of God's refusal to redeem coercively.  The crucifixion is "the politics of Jesus." 118

My claim, so offensive to some, that the first task of the church is to make the world the world, not to make the world more just, is a correlative of this theological metaphysics.  The world simply cannot be narrated - the world cannot have a story - unless a people exist who make the world the world.  That is an eschatological claim that presupposes we know there was a beginning only because we have seen the end.  That something had to start it all is not what Christians mean by creation.  Creation is not "back there," though there is a "back there" character to creation.  Rather, creation names God's continuing action, God's unrelenting desire for us to want to be loved by that love manifest in Christ's life, death, and resurrection. 158

I have come to think that the challenge confronting Christians is not that we do not believe what we say, though that can be a problem, but that what we say we believe does not seem to make any difference for either the church or the world. 159

In response to the question about a tragic life lived:

I am a Christian theologian.  People assume I am supposed to be able to answer that question.  I have no idea how to answer that question.  If anything, what I have learned over the years as a Christian theologian is that none of us should try to answer such questions.  Our humanity demands that we ask them, but if we are wise we should then remain silent. 207

More quotes:

I am not by nature nonviolent.   It is not a natural stance.  But one slow step at a time I tried to learn not to live a life determined by what I was against.  Peace is a deeper reality that violence.  That is an ontological claim with profound moral implications.  But it takes some getting used to. 231

Finally:

Our call for the abolition of war will take time, but this is not an argument against taking first steps.  As long as it is assumed that war is always an available option, we will not be forced to imagine any alternative to war. 273

Citizens of a New Age

Having finished all of my graduate school reading and nearly all of the writing, I found time over the last two days to become immersed in Stanley Hauerwas' recent memoir, Hannah's Child: A Theologians Memoir.  I will shortly be writing a response to the book, but I was struck by one quote near the end:  

"To be baptized into Christ is to be made a citizen of a new age in this age.  To so live sometimes tempts Christians to try to force God's kingdom into existence through violence.  But that is to betray the time we have been given.  The great paradox is that the apocalyptic character of our faith not only makes the everyday possible but also enables us to see how extraordinary it is.  It is extraordinary, for instance, that we can take the time to welcome children into this world and to enjoy the time called friendship." ^246-247

Eugene Peterson - The Entirety of the Bible

Eugene Peterson writes that, "It takes the whole Bible to read any part of the Bible."  What a profound statement that has been sorely forgotten throughout the history of the church.  We are taught to read law as law, poetry as poetry, history as history, parable as parable, narrative as narrative.  But reading the genre appropriately as a literary genre must fall under the entirety of the Bible - the unfolding and redemptive story of God. 

It is easy to read Leviticus and say that it is a book primarily of law; but we must remember that law was given to keep chosen-Israel as a beacon to the nations to the One God Yahweh.  Poetry is not just beautiful and artistic ways of telling a story, but it is an expression of emotion making "sense" of the trials and joys of life.  Reading the historical-narrative of the the passion of Christ before the cross is not just something to be believed in as a truth, but is read in relationship of a people yearning for a messiah to come and restore Jerusalem, to be rescued from exile, to finally do what Yahweh had promised to do. 

The same is true for us today.  Our lives are part of this grand story.  We are not rewriting Scripture or adding to it, but we live under it and in it.  We can interpret the world and our lives because we have been formed as people of the story; as a people who proclaim,

"Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.
Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul,
with all your mind, and with all your strength. (Deuteronomy 6:4-5)
Love your neighbor as yourself. (Leviticus 19:18)

Hauerwas - Should the Military Exclude Christians from Service?

Seminary quarters pass by at the speed of light, leaving behind lasting symbols and influential authors who helped to shape the symbols.  Fall of 2007 impacted my understanding of evangelism, being heralded by Henri Nouwen and his book The Prodigal Son.  Winter of 2008 was all about understanding worship as the unfolding of God's story through the multiple writings of Dr. Robert Webber.  Fall of 2009 was a time of putting to question ideologies of Scripture, church and society and salvation, with the help of N.T. Wright as a guide in the navigation.  Although we are only five weeks into the quarter, two names have already stood out as taking this place of lasting influence in my education: Stanley Hauerwas and John Howard Yoder. 

Last week I received a copy of Hauerwas' The Hauerwas Reader in the mail, and opened immediately to the Table of Contents.  My eye was quickly drawn to a controversial chapter entitled, "Why Gays (as a Group) Are Morally Superior to Christians (as a Group)."  The piece was an editorial in a newspaper, and therefore was only two pages long.  I have read it a number of times since and have been challenged to acknowledge and confess the passivity of my willingness to submit to the Lordship of Christ over the years, but also to realize that Christian doctrines are not just beliefs but are part of the very story that form our practices.  

Hauerwas states up front that he views it as a "wonderful thing that some people are excluded [from military service] as a group," and that he could "only wish that Christians could be seen by the military to be as problematic as gays."¹  He points out that the restriction on this group of people is due to many factors, one of which is, that by condemning such a group we can then allow ourselves to hide from the confusion of sex in our wider culture.  We create an "illusion of certainty" of what is morally right and what is morally wrong.The article is not as much focused on homosexuals serving in military as it is about the way in which Christians, if they were to be consistent in practicing those things which they claim to believe, would be an additional group excluded from participation in military service.  The reasons for this are:

1. Pilots would worry about dropping bombs on locations where civilian casualties would occur
2. Soldiers would insist that war is not about killing but only incapacitating or detaining prisoners (per just war theory)
3. Soldiers would gather each night, holding hands with heads bowed in prayer.
4. Soldiers would pray for their enemies
5. Soldiers would gather for a meal where they claim to eat and drink with God.
6. Soldiers could not gather for the meal if they have blood on their hands - "People so concerned with sanctity would be a threat to the military."²
7. They would be no fun as they are compelled to keep promises, fidelity, disprove of sexual license even when facing the danger of battle
8. Their loyalty is first to God and then to the military commanders

The brief article is both humorous and prophetic.  What would happen if we really enacted these things not only the military, but in our jobs and everyday life?  Refusing to gossip in work.  Being unwilling to lie or manipulate to advance in our jobs.  Setting limits for hours worked each week to spend time with family.  Refusing to buy into consumeristic tendencies to acquire the latest and the greatest.  I think that it would show that not only do Christians not make very good soldiers, but we do not make very good Western capitalists.

Could you really trust people in your unit who think the enemy's life is as valid as their own or their fellow soldier?  Could you trust someone who would think it more important to die than to kill unjustly?  Are these people fit for the military?³

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¹ Stanley Hauerwas, The Hauerwas Reader (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2001), 519.
² Ibid., 521.
³ Ibid., 521.

Yoder and the Believer's Cross

"This is simply my cross to bear."

This phrase is thrown out all the time in Christian circles.  It might pertain to an illness, or to a crabby co-worker, or maybe even to the loss of a job; anything that seems difficult in this life can be seen as carrying a cross.  But is this the cross that the New Testament speaks to?  John Howard Yoder offers the following:

The believer's cross is no longer any and every kind of suffering, sickness, or tension, the bearing of which is demanded.  The believer's cross is, like that of Jesus, the price of social nonconformity.  It is not, like sickness or catastrophe, an inexplicable, unpredictable suffering; it is the end of a path freely chosen after counting the cost.  It is not, like Luther's or Thomas Muntzer's or Zinzendorf's or Kierkegaard's cross, an inward wrestling of the sensitive soul with self and sin; it is the social reality of representing in an unwilling world the Order to come.¹

Talk about some words that will force us to question whether we are really willing to be follower's of Jesus Christ.

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¹ John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1972), 96.

Hauerwas Quote

Stanley Hauerwas utters a prophetic word that should shake the passivity and coasting of many of our lives and churches:

As Christians we claim that by conforming our lives in a faithful manner to the stories of God we acquire the moral and intellectual skills, as a community and as individuals, to face the world as it is, not as we wish it to be.  Of course this remains a "claim," for there is no way within history to prove that such a story must be true.  But that does not mean we are without resources for testing such a claim.  The very story people hold directs us to observe the lives of those who live it as a crucial indication of the truth of their convictions.¹

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^{1 Stanley Hauerwas, A Community of Character (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1981), 96.}