Showing posts with label patience. Show all posts
Showing posts with label patience. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Thesis question articulation VIII: Possibility

Possibility: part one
Series begins back here.
Finally, we arrive at the beginning and find that it is the centre. The possibility of: these first words of the sub-title are critical, as they designate the sharp focus of this project, limiting its scope, directing its attention and making it, I believe, original research.

The project is not attempting to answer “what ought we (as Christians) to do now?” (i.e. under these modern conditions of perceiving a predicament of societal unsustainability), which is a much broader question of daunting scope and complexity, demanding careful and multifaceted answers. Its answers will develop and shift according to both the further development and understanding of our situation over time and according to our particular social location in the world with the opportunities and threats we find ourselves facing. It is also a question that has received much consideration from both within and without the Christian church.

This project is also not attempting to answer one subset of this broader question, namely “what ought we to think now?”. This too is critical and complex. An analysis of the cultural patterns of both behaviour and thought that have led us into this mess and suggestions for new conceptions or for the recycling of old ones are pressing needs of the hour. And once again, Christian and non-Christian thinkers are making interesting suggestions on these matters.

Instead, this project asks “under what theological conditions is moral thought even possible today?”. It will investigate the threats to reflection upon the question “what ought we to do (and think) now?”, the ways in which the process of attempting to answer it might be short-circuited or the moral landscape flattened out such that genuine moral though is attenuated. It is asking after the theological space that enables moral reflection to take its time without being hurried into an answer by the threat of contemporary or imminent crises. What is the character (rather than content) of moral thought during a predicament such as the one we presently face? How does the Christian gospel shape and provide for the moral self at this time? What is it about the good news that enables the possibility of moral attentiveness even (and perhaps especially) in today's adverse and apparently hopeless conditions?

Finally, the project is interested not only in the possibility of, but also the possibilities for Christian moral attentiveness. That is, not just about the preservation of Christian moral attentiveness against the various threats that may numb it, but also about how this predicament may even be a source of spiritual and moral renewal.
This post is part of a series in which I am outlining my current research question. My present working title, which this series seeks to explain, is "Anxious about tomorrow": The possibility of Christian moral attentiveness in the predicament of societal unsustainability.
A. Societal unsustainability: part one; part two
B. Predicament: part one; part two
C. Moral attentiveness: part one; part two
D. Christian: part one
E. Possibility: part one
F. Summary: part one

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

The nature of love II

Reflections on 1 Corinthians 13.4-5
Love is patient; love is kind. Or better, since these are verbs in the Greek: Love waits patiently; love shows kindness. Patience and kindness are what God does, according to Paul in Romans 2.4. Whenever love meets broken people like us, it’s going to need patience and kindness. This is part of the beautiful realism of the Bible. There’s no pretence that we’ll all get along fine, that we’ll never hurt each other, that there won’t be misunderstandings. And so we need patience and kindness. Patient love puts up with disappointment and frustration. It knows when to keep its mouth shut and arms open, even after having been let down before. Love shows kindness - is friendly, generous, considerate. Love has the ability to look at someone else and see that they too are fundamentally human: made by God, scarred by mistakes and abuses, with similar fears, similar needs, similar vulnerabilities. If you are kind, you bring joy to people, alleviate pain. To be in your company makes others more alive, not more burdened.

Love does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. When humans live close together and see themselves in competition, these are what happen: envy, boasting, pride. We look at someone else and wish we had their opportunities, their gifts, their friends, their partner. He’s got my dreams and my hate him, especially if he’s good at the same areas I’d like to be good at. She succeeds and I resent it. Love does not envy. It is content with what it has received from God and rejoices at his generosity to others.

Love does not boast. Of course, I never do anything so crude as boast. I’m much more subtle. I just tell stories about myself, that happen to highlight my better sides, my more impressive achievements, even those achievements which strictly speaking, aren’t quite true yet. I want to be treated with respect, yet fear I won’t, and so make sure that people have every reason to know how much money I’m making, or how I don’t care that I’m not making much money because I’m not shallow.

Of course, there is a way of being honest about even our strengths with sober judgement that isn’t boasting. The solution is not to beat myself up and convince myself I'm no good, or put on a show of false humility. These too can become forms of self-obsession. Nor is the answer to cut myself off from other people, to only ever show a mask, put up walls around heart so no one can touch me.

The solution is the slow and painful process of learning just how deeply God loves us, how safe I am in his care, how even if the world crucifies me, he can raise the dead. Once we begin to get a handle on the God’s boundless love, we can gradually take down the protective walls and live lives of self-forgetfulness, pouring ourselves out for others the way Jesus poured himself out for us.

Love is not rude. I don’t get to be a jerk, to act inappropriately because I feel like it. And I don’t get to define what is rude. I need to find out what you think is rude. I can’t just say “that’s who I am, live with it”. If I hurt or anger someone, I need to find out why and possibly learn how to change. It’s not about me. But what if someone has been rude to me? Love is not touchy, hyper-sensitive, thin-skinned. It’s not about me. Of course, I may sensitively and gently discuss in private with the person who hurt me why their action caused me pain, but I do so with a heart that is quick to forgive, and that will keep no record of the wrong. I refuse to let myself be burdened by every wrong I’ve endured, every insult I’ve received, every grief I’ve suffered. We forgive as we have been forgiven by God: completely, repeatedly, freely.
Various thoughts and occasional phrases for elements in this section of the sermon were shamelessly stolen from a sermon by Ian Powell at Barneys in 2005. "Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal." - T. S. Eliot.
Ten points for guessing the city in this image. Twenty for naming the building.