Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts
Showing posts with label theology. Show all posts

01 October 2026

Books of the summer, part two: Furious Minds—plus more about "less"

Hardcover (2025) and trade paperback (2027, "with a new afterward by the author"). Source.

Laura K. Field writes in her first chapter:

I have been writing about New Right intellectuals since 2019. The most common response I get when I mention this to liberals is something along the lines of “Trumpy intellectuals? Now that’s an oxymoron!” or “Hahaha, I think you mean dumb fascists!” While the impulse is understandable, it’s also mistaken and counterproductive.

Many on the left assume that the only serious reason to support the GOP has to do with finance and tax returns, and that right-wing voters are racists. But people’s motives are mixed, and America’s reactionary intellectuals are armed with more than greed and prejudice. They also have reasons and arguments that they appear to care about, whole epochs and libraries full, ready-to-hand. What the writer Matthew Rose says about the radical right is true of the New Right, too:

Almost everything written about the “alternative right” has been wrong in one respect. The alt-right is not stupid; it is deep. Its ideas are not ridiculous; they are serious. To appreciate this fact, one needs to inquire beyond its presence on social media, where its obnoxious use of insult, obscenity, and racism has earned it a reputation for moral idiocy. The reputation is deserved, but do not be deceived. Behind its online tantrums and personal attacks are arguments of seductive power.


When we went on vacation to Maine this past summer, I brought along Laura Field's compilation and guide to the intellectuals who inform and defend the MAGA occupation of the USA, Furious Minds: The Making of the MAGA New Right. I spent more time with the book than just about any other activity. The result: a book with maybe more highlighting than untouched text.

"Key people and institutions of the MAGA New Right"

The book mentions several hundred individuals, publications, podcasts, and organizations, and I'll never remember them all. I had heard of some of them—20% or so, based on a quick scan of the index—but most were new to me. They hold (and clash over) a variety of specific priorities, and indeed change their views at times, but the majority seem to agree on several basics.

Michael Anton, who was one of the first to defend Trumpism in intellectual terms, defined it in September 2016 as “secure borders, economic nationalism, and America-first foreign policy.” This is a useful shorthand that captures some of the fundamentals. The New Right is indeed, with very few exceptions, anti-immigration. It stands against free trade and globalism. And it represents a turn against the neoconservative interventionism in foreign affairs that characterized the first part of the twenty-first century. But if those are the ribs of the New Right’s politics, Anton’s formulation hides the spine, which is a staunch social traditionalism and rejection of liberal pluralism and egalitarianism; in other words, the various New Right policy prongs are organized around a traditionalist (usually white, Christian, and patriarchal) social vision and homogenizing nationalism meant to counter and replace pluralistic liberalism. The New Right views mainstream liberal America—the “woke” America that embraces plurality and equality, including across various formerly marginalized identities—as an all-encompassing, monolithic “regime” of elite oppression (which they often also refer to as the “enemy”). Culture warriorism—which we might define as an excessive emphasis on rhetoric and media performance over policy formulation and real-world political negotiation—plays a major role on the New Right because at bottom this is a movement driven by reactionary social values and principles, not specific policy concerns.

The movement also varies in its political extremism, but a frequent point of agreement is that the New Right must not count on winning elections. One way or another, it must take over and establish permanent rule. There is no place for pluralism in these visions.

Field's ability to deliver intense research, made more readable with lively bits of humor and self-disclosure, and with allusions to classical literature, reminded me of the Quaker classicist Sarah Ruden. I appreciated the ways Field lived up to her Chapter One pledge to approach her subjects seriously and with fairness, conceding the point when New Right commentators made valid criticisms of today's liberal failures and intellectual laziness. She also recounts the role conservatives such as Leon Craig and the influence of Leo Strauss had in her own education.

I don't feel qualified to give her book a full and competent review, though I can testify that it is absorbing reading. The coverage of religious influences—Catholic integralism, Calvinists, the New Apostolic Reformation—is well done. In lieu of a more complete assessment on my part, here are links to a positive review in The Atlantic, a very negative review in the Claremont Review of Books written by Michael Anton, one of the people she wrote about, and her lively reply to that negative review. Enjoy ... if that's the right word.


But wait, there's even more! 

Ellerie Brownfain had some helpful comments on last week's post, But wait!... With her permission, I'm posting those comments here:

Your blog post is spot on. It is light and lovely and beautifully written. I especially enjoyed how it begins with the Bible and that joyful refrain of "But wait, there's more!" From there you carry the reader through the whole story of the church to where Friends find ourselves today. That is a great deal of ground to cover with such a gentle touch.

Your "But wait, there's less!" made me smile and then gave me much to think about. I appreciate writing that does both.

I was recently in Germany walking around in Reformation history. So I could not help noticing a few points you may wish to consider.

Your list reads as though each movement waited politely for the one before to finish. They did not. Luther posted his 95 Theses in 1517. Within a few short years the Radical Reformation was already underway right alongside him. These movements grew up together like siblings and squabbled like them too. The first Anabaptists were Zwingli's own students in Zurich. They decided their teacher had not gone nearly far enough. Teachers everywhere will sympathize.

Poor Zwingli seems to have been left off the guest list. He came before Calvin and did a great deal of the "less." He became the people's priest in Zurich in 1519 and started preaching straight through the Gospel of Matthew. No set readings. Just the Bible in plain Swiss German. His reform really took off in 1522 over a plate of sausages. Some of his friends ate them during Lent. Zwingli was there and did not eat but he defended them from the pulpit. That may be the only time sausages started a reformation.

From there things moved quickly. The city council held public debates and sided with Zwingli. In 1524 the church walls in Zurich were whitewashed of all images. The organs were silenced as well. By 1525 the Mass was gone and the Lord's Supper became a simple memorial meal served at plain tables.

Luther was not about to let that go. In 1529 Prince Philip of Hesse invited them both to his castle at Marburg. Philip was a Protestant prince with a Catholic problem. The emperor Charles V wanted everyone back in the Roman fold, and Philip hoped a united front might change his mind. So he gave the two reformers room and board and hoped for the best. Luther and Zwingli agreed on fourteen points and parted over the fifteenth, which was the Lord's Supper. The story goes that Luther chalked "This is my body" on the table and kept pointing at it. Friends would say they never found the sense of the meeting. Philip was left without his alliance. One can only imagine how dinner went.

Zwingli's end is a sobering one for Friends. In 1531 he rode out with the Zurich army against the Catholic cantons and was killed at Kappel. His own students the Anabaptists had already refused the sword. So the removal of sacred images might sit more comfortably in your section with Zwingli and Calvin. And the peace testimony has an older family tree than we sometimes remember.

Luther also kept more than we tend to remember. The Lutherans held on to altars and images and vestments and much of the old liturgy. Some of them even kept their bishops.

The early English Baptists did write confessions of faith. The best known are from 1644 and 1689. As you say, "soul competency" came later. It was an American Baptist named E. Y. Mullins who gave it that name in 1908. The English root of that idea is Thomas Helwys. In 1612 he wrote to King James asking freedom of conscience for everyone. The king answered by putting him in prison where he died. Many early Friends came out of the General Baptists who followed Helwys. So in a way they are our cousins.

I was especially moved by your closing. Meeting seekers with open and searching conversation.

— Ellerie Brownfain


Added Friday: A "Big Read" online book conversation with Defying Tyrants author Matthew Taylor on October 8 (two days after the book is released; you get a free excerpt when you register). I commented on his previous book, The Violent Take It By Force, in this blog post: Enthusiasm and politics.

Naomi Klein and Astra Taylor on a secular vision of end times, courtesy of the mega-rich. Serious question: is this a fair article?

The AP's Evelyne Musambi on the "loud" Quakers in Kenya.

"Treat me like a human." Eric Trump and Josephine Johnston on the prescience of one of my favorite films, Children of Men.

Elderchaplain Greg Morgan is Remembering Bruce.

A farewell post "of sorts" from Tom Engelhardt (but not the end of TomDispatch!).


Denmark's Delta Blues Band, "Come On in my Kitchen," featuring Miriam Mandipira.

10 September 2026

Can we believe?

John Woolman (source); Sarah Paine (source).

We were taught by renewed experience to labor for an inward stillness; at no time to seek for words, but to live in the spirit of truth, and utter that to the people which truth opened in us.

— John Woolman's Journal.

In the United States, if we continue normalizing lying, and allowing our leaders to just do it flagrantly, it's another sign of precipitous national decline.

— Sarah Paine, "America is repeating the exact mistakes that destroyed the Soviets."

I've spent much of the day thinking about "truth."

Not about every possible aspect of truth, I admit, but one aspect in particular: what we are doing when we are asserting something, and we have a vested interest in being believed.

Back in the seventeenth century, we Quakers sometimes referred to ourselves as "publishers of Truth" with a capital T. Those Friends were in fact eager to publish a particular Truth that they believed they had experienced, that "Christ has come to teach his people himself."

This assertion would be correctly classified by philosophers as objectively "unverifiable," although these early Quakers were simply testifying to their conversion experiences. Furthermore, they believed that their lives needed to be in accord with this experience. Therefore, they rejected violence, hierarchy, luxury, ceremony—in their church lives, in their civic roles, and in their individual lives. In making these assertions about God and about the consequent (verifiable) changes in their lives and practices, they risked ridicule, persecution, even loss of life.

How do you decide whether this or that public assertion is true? In a scientific context, we can ask whether we can make and test predictions based on that assertion. In civil society, we can ask about the credibility of speakers, and whether the promises or predictions they make are verifiable. But probably in all cases, the first thing we test or try to detect is this: are they speaking in good faith?—

  • do they have a history of speaking thoughtfully?
  • are they open about their motives and agendas?
  • are they open to follow-up conversations, to corrections or additional input to consider?
  • do they threaten dire consequences if their assertions are challenged?
  • who directs and finances their access to the public arena?

As Sarah Paine says, a culture of lying had fatal consequences for the USSR, and we should not tolerate such a culture here.


Just as we are being swamped by daily dumps of lies from the USA's president and his cheerleaders and true believers, our task of discerning and defending truth is becoming even more complicated. Artificial intelligence offers us many services, but among those services is the ability to generate and broadcast believable lies in just about every form of communication, with whatever gradation on the spectrum of lies, and, if so commanded, to do this with fake or stolen personalities and fake locations.

The motives and methods of such lying are not new. Sadly, lying has been part of American politics from the very beginning, despite our claiming to be founded on "self-evident" truths. The difference now might be the scale, with all its consequences: leaving part of our population through waves of ginned-up outrage; driving others into retreat from public involvement; and moving still others into taking up the challenge of, once again, publishing Truth.

One of the AI users in our circle sent us this fake ad for a breakfast cereal. What was interesting to me was his very simple prompts: a box of cereal on a grocery shelf, with a genuine photo of Slavoj Žižek. All of the text on this fake ad was generated by AI.

Take this offhand humorous and harmless little side-project and scale it up to carry serious messages and urgent commands, attractively and believably crafted, to audiences of thousands and millions, scooping up additional technological resources as it goes, blocking warnings and creating a firestorm of confusion. Perhaps this is one of the channels that those warning about possible AI-driven extinction events have in mind.

We do have a history of countering falsehood. Let's invite people into communities where we listen intently for truth, experiencing the power Woolman referred to (and uttering to the people only that "... which truth opened in us...."—truth is active), and speaking that truth in season and out of season accordingly. And when we individually tire, as we inevitably will at times, we can spell each other. We can eagerly extend our quest for truth by having conversations all over the planet with people similarly interested in listening, waiting, testing, and ultimately blessing everyone.

The power of truth-centered community life may not convince the world that Christ has come to teach his people himself, or that we have all our doctrines exactly right, but they may be able to verify a crucial first step: we speak in good faith.


From 17 years ago: Publishers of Truth.


One of the documents I stumbled on in searching for "truth": a glossary of terms useful for describing information disorder.

Phil Gulley on the truth will out. "The longer I live, the more I quote my mother."

Ron Hogan urges us to proclaim the message.

"Vote safe"? Elon Musk is funding a voting information site that sounds helpful, but... there are "hidden dangers." Snopes did some checking of their own.

A Multwood celebration, October 3, in Portland, Oregon: enjoying and honoring a case study of conversation across Quaker lines.


My favorite part of the funeral of King Harald V, yesterday, in Oslo, Norway. "Abide With Me." (Here's full coverage of the event.)

02 July 2026

More on Quaker culture and "density envy"

Thirteen years ago I wrote a post on "Quaker culture." I had just read a novel whose Jewish and Catholic characters were described with lavish details from their Jewish and Catholic religious cultures—rituals, architecture, thought patterns, built up, elaborated, and passed on from generation to generation over many centuries. I wondered if our Quaker religious cultures aren't a bit thin by comparison.

I've recently read two more novels with dense religious settings and the same thought occurred to me. Given the temptation toward Quaker exceptionalism among some of us, maybe a bit of modesty would do us some good!

Of course it's not that simple. A beautiful and rich culture can honor God, and can do so through so many emotional and sensory channels that go far beyond the doctrines and propositions that were hallmarks of that highly contentious period of English history when we got our start. (Come to think of it, doctrines and propositions, and our conflicting feelings about them, continue to exercise us Friends to this day!) But those rich, dense, beautiful cultures can, at their worst, also exclude, entrap, and alienate.

Those two newer novels illustrate this beauty and this hazard in very different ways. I highly recommend both of them. The one I read first was Niall Williams's Time of the Child, set in a rain-soaked village in the west of Ireland in the year 1962, the year that, among other things, the first television arrives in the town. At the center of the story is an agnostic general practitioner who attends Mass faithfully, and whose relationship with the parish priests is fascinating. Also in the center of the story is his eldest daughter, who serves as his receptionist; his other two daughters have moved away. Almost every important action in the story is somehow linked, whether by intention or habit, to the region's Catholic culture and faith. I loved this story so much that I hope you'll read it without further commentary from me, so I can avoid revealing its compelling and gradually unfolding plot. Williams, in all the novels of his that I've read, somehow manages to convey love with extraordinary depth but without sentimentality.

If you still need a bit more detail to be persuaded, here's a review.

The other novel is Kate Riley's Ruth. I think it is a small miracle that this book even came to be published. It is by turns deadpan and laconic, reverent, snarky, sad, and wicked funny. Ruth's story is a near-lifetime compressed into a chain of telling incidents from a life lived in an Anabaptist commune, with similarities to Hutterite and Bruderhof communities. Ruth understands the rules, until she doesn't. Her son doesn't. She loves her husband, and despises his annoying habits. In the community she's loyal and skeptical, a total insider who is somehow not trapped. 

For a time, the community seems oddly totalitarian, but the leaders confess their inadequacies. Misdeeds can lead to temporary shunning, usually on a voluntary basis! Travel to the outside world is permitted when necessary—for example, to meet and pray "with a Quaker colloquium at the Wyndham Sault Ste. Marie." "In the van Ruth had erred in wondering aloud whether Quakers might love peace more than they loved Christ, which she'd read somewhere and liked the sound of. No one responded."

(Talking about people behind their backs is not permitted in the community, but, just between you and me, it's worth listening to Ruth!)

Here are two reviews: Englewood Review of Books and Anabaptist World.

If you've read either of these books, or this post reminds you of other books you'd recommend, I'd love to know!


If I were to live in a high-context religious community, I think I would want these two needlepoint mottoes on my wall:

"Christ is the 'yes' to all of God's promises." — St. Paul.

"All knowledge is local, all truth is partial." — Ursula K. Le Guin.


Related: Ohio Byways; Core sample of a Quaker culture; Games, sports, comedies....


Rachel Muers does an amazing job of describing Friends faith, practice, worship, and diversities in a compact, even-handed, and well-organized article for the St Andrews Encyclopaedia of Theology, with lots of useful links. Thanks to Jim Fussell for the reference.

Kristin Du Mez, Live Laugh Love, and the librarians.

Ashley Wilcox on "Alaska in my bones," and the example Anchorage provides us.

Adrienne LaFrance wishes happy 100th birthday to Mel Brooks, "the funniest man who ever lived."


Kelly Zirbes and her band Kelly's Lot perform "Ship." Kelly's tour dates include Klamath Falls (July 25), Burns OR (August 5), Spokane (August 10), and Portland OR (August 12, with Carolyn Wonderland).

28 May 2026

"Where there was a wish, there was a way"

Source.  

Early in her new book, Live Laugh Love: The Secret History of White Christian Women and the World They Made, historian Kristin Kobes Du Mez (author of Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation) gives us some context for her major history of the Christian trends that are now seeking to dominate the USA:

It was my effort to make sense of the experiences of Christian women that led me to this new account of American Christianity writ large, and ultimately, to a clearer understanding of the spiritual underpinnings of our current cultural and political landscape.

While Live Laugh Love complements Jesus and John Wayne, it presents a more complicated narrative. To trace the roots of modern Christian women’s culture, I needed to reach back to an earlier era, to the dynamic religious landscape of nineteenth-century America. I also needed to extend beyond evangelicalism to include mainline and charismatic Christianity, Mormonism, and “secular” philosophies of positive thinking. Women’s relationship to power is more complicated than men’s. Women exercise agency, but it is often circumscribed by the authority of the men in their lives. Like Jesus and John Wayne, however, this is a book about whiteness. Although women of color have participated in aspects of this consumer culture and at times have voiced astute critiques of it, the book describes a consumer marketplace that caters primarily to white women’s needs and desires.

Also like Jesus and John Wayne, this story ends in a dark place, as perhaps any history of the United States that runs up to the present must.

The research that gave rise to this book was full of twists and turns. Early on, I was surprised by the frequency with which twentieth-century Christian women quoted the wisdom of Hannah Whitall Smith. A nineteenth-century “holiness” preacher, Smith had popularized a more optimistic version of Christianity than the one I had heard preached from the pulpit of my church. In contrast to Calvinism’s depiction of the persistence of sin even in the lives of believers, Smith taught that a simple act of faith granted believers victory over sin and a profound sense of peace, well-being, and happiness. Despite the fact that Smith had written one of the best-selling religious books of her time, most histories of American Christianity mentioned her only in passing. Why was Smith everywhere in the sources, I wondered, and why had so many other Christian women repackaged her ideas more than half a century after her death?

Following footnotes and traveling to archives, I began to piece together a narrative almost entirely unfamiliar to me. My sources brought me to the court of Louis XVI and to the woods of upstate New York, to the Chinese mission field and along the Mormon Trail. When I ended up back on the terrain of twentieth-century evangelicalism, the familiar had become strange. By then, three interlocking strands had come into focus: Smith’s holiness evangelicalism, Mormonism, and the philosophy of New Thought.

Du Mez totally keeps her implied promise of tracing those "interlocking strands" right through to this very year, including the ways Pentecostal and charismatic Christianity, along with the religious publishing, marketing, and broadcasting enterprises and the phenomenon of multi-level marketing, became part of the mix.

Early in the book, Du Mez addresses her audience:

This book is for the men in the room. It is for readers who have never heard of Beverly Lewis or Rebecca St. James, for those who wouldn’t dream of buying a Thomas Kinkade print or waiting in line for a Magnolia cupcake. You have no idea what you’ve been missing. But this book is especially for the women. It is for girls who braided their hair like Laura Ingalls and tried to obey like Elisabeth Elliot. It is for women who made all the crafts and know all the songs. It is for those of us who were not pretty enough or sweet enough or white enough. It is for women who loved Beth Moore and for women who still love Beth Moore. It is for all of us.

As a white male who came to Christian faith as an adult, I'm among those who never heard of Beverly Lewis or Rebecca St. James. I was aware of the "prairie fiction" and "Amish romance" genres, and of authors Janette Oke, Elisabeth Elliot, and Catherine Marshall, simply because I've worked in three different Christian bookstores, but I was completely unaware of the underlying influences and messages directed at women. 

I was aware of Hannah Whitall Smith's book The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life, because it was on my Canadian charismatic relatives' bookshelf as well as on the shelves of those bookstores. It had been in print ever since it was published in 1875.

In this book, The Christian's Secret of a Happy Life, Smith identifies with "we Quakers," the faith of her family and young adulthood, although later she and her husband were baptized by the Baptists and became Holiness celebrities in the context of Atlantic-culture evangelicalism. (She eventually rejoined Quakers through Baltimore Yearly Meeting.) What I didn't realize until reading Live Laugh Love was how her book was appropriated for the purpose of creating a specific message to women: you must decide to be happy, whatever your outward circumstances; that's (more or less) the only control you have. Other parts of her spiritual heritage, particularly the freedom she insisted upon to preach as a woman, and her belief in universal salvation, were de-emphasized and forgotten.

Du Mez mentions the neglect of Smith in histories of American Christianity. (I just checked Peter W. Williams's 604-page America's Religions and found one tiny mention of her, misspelled, paired with David Updegraff as "Quakers with evangelical leanings..." in a list of those participating in an early stream of the Holiness movement. No mention of her book.) This lack of recognition reminded me of Agnes Sanford, whose central role in the healing-prayer movement of the twentieth century while almost invisible to the academic world, was documented in William de Arteaga's book Agnes Sanford and her Companions: The Assault on Cessationism and the Coming of the Charismatic Renewal. (See this post.)

But the main reason I'm referring to Du Mez's careful study of Hannah Whitall Smith's work is that it is just one example of how she presents her many sources and the ways they influenced each other to this day, including the role of women in the Christian networks that now seek to remake the USA into a theocracy.

I found insights, references, and connections to highlight on practically every page of this book. It took over my life these last few days. Du Mez's writing is intense ... sometimes I was struck deeply by the bondages imposed on women under Christian pretenses, sometimes I cheered the Christian resistance to those bondages, but I was never bored. If you have any interest in these themes and variations of faith, politics, and culture, I can't recommend this book highly enough.


Hoping I'm not stretching fair use to the breaking point, here's another excerpt, this time related to the book's name.

Two years after William James published The Varieties of Religious Experience, an Iowa woman named Bessie Anderson Stanley submitted a poem to a magazine contest asking readers to define “success.” The person who achieved success, Stanley wrote, was one who “has lived well, laughed often, and loved much.” The poem won the $250 cash prize, enough to pay off the mortgage on Stanley’s home. Reprinted in various anthologies, the poem entered the popular lexicon in condensed form. Over the years, one variant was mistakenly attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson, an error popularized by advice columnists Ann Landers and her sister, Abby. By the dawn of the twenty-first century, few bothered to ask where the phrase gracing glittery tumblers, decorative throw pillows, and Hobby Lobby wall art had originated. In 2021, online retailer Wayfair stocked more than fifty-six thousand Live Laugh Love products, and DIY marketplace Etsy reported over one hundred thousand searches and listed more than eight thousand products carrying the words. ... But the phrase’s popularity was more than a décor trend associated with “basic” white women. Its ubiquitous appearance on wall stencils and household items was a result, in part, of the enduring popularity of mind-power—if the mind could shape reality, then visual reminders to think positive thoughts could produce positive transformations. Where there was a wish, there was a way....

Live Laugh Love is a book about love and fear, longing and greed, about Mary Kay makeup, Christian romance novels, Joyce Meyer Ministries, and Ballerina Farm. Its cast of characters includes true believers and charlatans, well-intentioned people and predators, and it is not always clear who is who. This is also a book about politics. White Christian women often claim to be apolitical; if you ask them, they will tell you that their lives revolve around faith and family, yet what they think about faith and family informs their views on education, taxation, welfare, economic inequality, immigration, law enforcement, and what it means to be American. Far from trivial, the products women consume influence how they see the world they live in and the world they hope to create. Ultimately, this is a book about power—about women’s power to define their own lives, men’s power over women, and the power women wield over one another. It is about discipleship and devotion, authority and submission, manipulation, cruelty, and control.


These excerpts and my comments are based on a digital galley proof obtained through Netgalley. I was made aware of the galley when I joined the Live Laugh Love Launch Team. When the book is printed and made available in September, I may need to check and revise these quotations. However, what you've read so far accurately represents the author's promises to us readers, and the amazing work she has put into fulfilling them.


Lamorna Ash, author of Don't Forget We're Here Forever: A New Generation's Search for Religion, which I reviewed in this post, will speak at Westminster Quaker Meeting's meetinghouse on Saturday, June 20, 7 p.m. London time, in person and online. Theme: "Quakers and a new generation’s search for religion." Details here. (Thanks to Bunhill Fields Quaker Meeting's newsletter for the link.)

Elderchaplain Greg Morgan on Rosalie, her gratitude, and her quilt.

Pope Leo XIV and artificial intelligence: the encyclical. "...A religious imperative...." "...Counterbalancing alarm with hope...."


When I first heard this song as a teenager, I honestly didn't understand it but I couldn't stop listening.


#livelaughlovebook

23 April 2026

Whose faith? Whose practice? (part two)

Vatican logo (source); Quaker star (source, adapted)

When Pope Leo XIV speaks as supreme pastor of the universal Church, he is not merely offering opinions on theology, he is preaching the Gospel and exercising his ministry as the vicar of Christ.

With these words, Bishop James Massa, chairman of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops’ Committee on Doctrine, responded on behalf of that conference to U.S. vice president Vance's criticism of the Pope.

(The full statement is here.)

You probably won't be surprised that my eyes immediately went to the words "universal Church." There's a certain confidence in that formulation, as there is in Massa's words "vicar of Christ." Leo XIV's words, and James Massa's explanation, are rooted in the Roman Catholic identity as an uninterrupted witness to the apostle Peter and to Jesus himself. The Catechism of the Catholic Church carefully explains the Catholic peace testimony, as we might call it, in its commentary on the biblical Fifth Commandment and specifically in its notes on "Safeguarding Peace." 

Last week I advocated seeing our Quaker books of "Christian faith and practice" as not just being for internal use, but as our advocacy for a way of Christian discipleship that we recommend to the whole world. In offering these recommendations in good faith, we're also ready to receive, also in good faith, the recommendations of others committed to following Jesus in ways that may differ from ours. It's in that spirit that I took a look at the Catechism, the Catholic book of Christian faith and practice, and its teachings on war and peace as Leo XIV and James Massa explained them to the world.

Pope Leo doesn't have formal authority over Quakers beyond that of a brother in Christ, but in the wider economy of the followers of Christ, he's in a peculiar position. Beyond his formal authority among the over one billion Catholics in his communion, he has worldwide visibility and influence. Not only is he in the center of worldwide webs of ecumenical relationships (not counting his linguistic, tennis, and auto-mechanic credentials), but his persistence in advocating peace has won him many admirers among people who never thought they'd be saying kind words about a pope.

Many of our books of Quaker faith and practice support our teachings on spirituality and discipleship with quotations from the full range of Quaker experience since our earliest days. We're saying, in effect, that there is historical and scriptural substance to our teachings. The Catholic Catechism does the same, drawing on a history that is (speaking institutionally) five times longer than ours.

That seniority doesn't require exaggerated deference; they may have been wrong about some things five times as long as we've existed! We've come to some very different conclusions concerning such central issues as the functions and qualifications of priesthood. I would personally not affiliate with a communion that has a list of gifts and offices for heterosexual men and a shorter list for everyone else. However, "good faith" requires me to study what's behind those differences as well as our places of unity.

I don't share the Catholic doctrine of "just war," because we Quakers, at least those who identify with the Richmond Declaration of Faith (1887), cannot see a Christian license for any war whatever. Earlier, during a period of persecution, Quakers declared that ...

The Spirit of Christ, by which we are guided, is not changeable, so as once to command us from a thing as evil and again to move unto it; and we do certainly know, and so testify to the world, that the Spirit of Christ, which leads us into all Truth, will never move us to fight and war against any man with outward weapons neither for the kingdom of Christ, nor for the kingdoms of this world.

(A declaration from the Harmless and Innocent People of God, called Quakers, 1661; the full text is very worthwhile reading.)

However, a close study of the Catholic just war doctrine reveals how much effort Catholic theologians put into finding clear ways to limit war—to the point where, functionally, they arrive at almost the same point we do. There is no place in Catholic doctrine for aggressive war or for targeting the innocent. Therefore we have a basis for powerful collaboration, and a reason to take heart when our influential brother the Pope speaks for peace.


Pope Leo also loves movies.

In our Irony Department, given the MAGA criticism of Pope Leo, Church-state separation is a ‘lie,’ says Trump's Religious Liberty Commission chair.

Juhyun Nam, Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists: AI policy is built for oversight, not crisis. That needs to change. (AI policy is another major interest of the pope.)

How a small Quaker meeting has helped shape Kalamazoo (Michigan, USA) for nearly 80 years.

What's happening at the Friends Incubator for Public Ministry: A lot! From the many programs and activities, I particularly enjoyed seeing Pam and Ron Ferguson on "being released" as ministers, and Paul Anderson on Margaret Fell's ever-relevant Women's Speaking Justified. And there's a reminder about the Kickstarter campaign that needs just $3000 more to make its important goal.

Nancy Thomas on Library Week, Poetry Month, and a special place that has no Internet....

Friends United Meeting's Pentecost Devotional booklet is available here for download. (I contributed an essay.)


Mavis Staples will take us there, with Rick Holmstrom on guitar.

16 April 2026

Whose faith? Whose practice? (part one)

Editions: London Yearly Meeting, 1959 (my copy);
Britain Yearly Meeting, 2013.

I received my first book of Quaker faith and practice in 1975, when Ottawa Friends Meeting accepted me as a new member. Canadian Friends of that era had adopted London Yearly Meeting's Christian Faith and Practice for that purpose, alongside their own loose leaf supplement entitled Organization and Procedure.

British Friends, in the renamed Britain Yearly Meeting, published a new faith and practice book in 1995, now entitled Quaker Faith and Practice.

The word "Christian" was not exactly being deprecated—the full title of the book is Quaker Faith and Practice: The book of Christian discipline of the Yearly Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) in Britain. It may be tempting to interpret the title change in terms of the post-Christian trends among some British Quakers, but that's not what interests me today.

I suppose that in either case, Christian or Quaker, the prevailing assumption was that these books are for internal use among Friends. This is who we are, more or less. But what I like about the title Christian Faith and Practice is another interpretation entirely, one I have no permission or evidence to propose: this way of faith and life is not just for us; it's recommended for all Christians.

This way of thinking rubs against the ecumenical/interfaith spirit of our times. It paradoxically conflicts with both the modesty and diffidence of contemporary Quakers on the one hand, and our sectarian exceptionalism on the other. But it makes sense to me to interpret these books as our contribution to an ecumenical conversation: this is how we are trying to live with Jesus at the center of our communities; how about you? Can we learn from each other? Are we ready (with kindness) to point to each other's strong places, and each other's defects, blind spots, and worldly accommodations? Ideally, we Quakers are not forming yet another community of self-contained "enthusiasts" (in Ronald Knox's sense) but are eager participants and ecumenical allies in turning the world upside down in the Lamb's war against all forms of oppression.

I don't know how George Fox and his companions would feel about my interpretation of the true audiences of our "faith and practice," but one of his late interpreters, Lewis Benson, once told me, "I don't have an ecumenical bone in my body." He firmly believed that Fox didn't intend to organize a new sect, but to revive or reconstitute the entire Church. However, as Knox points out, the reality is that most reform movements, inside and outside the established confessions, have similar ambitions, so it's up to us to keep the lines of conversation open with all of them rather than tending to our own exclusive conceits.

The work of our late Friend Eden Grace at the World Council of Churches is a wonderful example of these kinds of conversations. Given the range of concerns among Friends worldwide at this grave moment in human history (speaking of ecological as well as political and economic challenges), there probably won't be many of us who will be called to make ecumenical conversation a priority. But if you are one who happens to understand "Christian Faith and Practice" as a contribution to a potentially unlimited audience, I hope these words are encouraging.


Related: Meditations on sectarianism; Functional ecumenism; Core sample of a Quaker culture, Are Quakers part of the Church? Your thoughts and links are very welcome.

To be continued next week in Part Two: Pope Leo XIV and "just peace."


Bill Samuel's list of online books of faith and practice.

Grace Spencer (Prospect): Disagreement among Friends. ("Keep or dilute God?")

Eden Grace: Quaker and ecumenical essays. Her Swarthmore Lecture (2019) with video and transcript.

George Demacopoulos (Orthodox Christian Studies Center): Is Donald Trump the Arius of American Democracy?

Gerrit De Vynck and Nitasha Tiku (Washington Post, gift article): Can AI be a ‘child of God’? Inside Anthropic’s meeting with Christian leaders.

Nancy Thomas, Poems of the Beatitudes, part one, part two, part three.

Kristin Du Mez comments on Keri Ladner's newly published book American Dominion, and provides us an excerpt. (Also see link to today's live episode of The Convocation Unscripted.)


"...When I heard that song, I said, 'Man, it's just what my soul needed.'" Eric Bibb remembering Lightnin' Hopkins performing "Needed Time" in the film Sounder. (Here's Lightnin' Hopkins' version.)

12 February 2026

Remembering Bishop Seraphim Sigrist

Wassily Kandinsky, Autumn in Murnau, the cover photo on Seraphim Sigrist's Facebook page.

Source: Union of Orthodox Journalists
Source: David Sipress, New Yorker
via Seraphim Sigrist's Facebook page,
commenting on his own back pain.

... [T]he gifts of the Holy Spirit are revealed in community. As such, they are for all the community, and so one gift does not quench the others, even when, as happens often, they are opposite. So the analytical does not quench the emotional, the gift of tears does not quench that of laughter, the gift of the spiritual elder does not contradict that of the psychologist, the gift of ecstasy does not stand in disharmony with that of calm.

—Bishop Seraphim Sigrist, A Life Together: Wisdom of Community from the Christian East. 

Bishop Seraphim Sigrist (Orthodox Church in America) died last Saturday morning. There must be many people all over the world who are going through what I'm feeling now. Yes, it's true that we believe that "he fell asleep in the Lord," but he gave us so much wisdom and care and sheer fun that I, for one, can't help feeling sad and very sorry for us.

I never met him in person. The closest we came to meeting each other was when I visited the Pleasantville campus of Pace University to conduct marketing interviews at a time when he was working in the library. We actually met through a Facebook chat when he contacted me to consider joining an ecumenical fellowship that, during the peak COVID years, was meeting online. That invitation led to, among other things, five years of correspondence that I'm very grateful to be able to revisit anytime. We chatted about Japan (where he served as Bishop of East Japan, and where my mother was born and raised), our experiences of Russia, several mutual friends there, the intersections of Eastern Orthodox and Quaker Christianity, authors and artists we both admired, and the joys and puzzles of ecumenical life. We sent each other many links over the years; it was he who told me that Friends Journal had published an interview with the Norwegian author Jon Fosse, whom he was reading at the time.

Looking over that correspondence, I am amazed at my own openness with him in writing about my family and early life. I've no doubt that many others found him to be a person of surpassing empathy as I did. And some of you lucky people knew him for far longer than my five years.

His scope of knowledge, interests, sympathies, and ability to detect unexpected affinities and hidden kinships across all those fields was amazing. And he frequently made those connections with gentle playfulness.

In his positive review of Bishop Seraphim's book Theology of Wonder, the Christian Reformed scholar James Peyton wrote words that ring very true, more generally, of what I came to know and love about our friend. In the Calvin Theological Journal (pages 479-481), Peyton wrote,

There is no question that the author is a gifted theologian: It is clear that Bishop Seraphim is well-acquainted with a wide spectrum of views and controversies, both among Christians of various stripes and with the views of practitioners of other faith traditions throughout the world. However, he never makes such familiarity the point of his presentation or of any of the sections; indeed, he wears his extensive learning lightly. He is not concerned to show us how much he knows, although he knows a great deal: He refers deftly to the understandings current among Hasidic Jews, Buddhists, Hindus, and various kinds of Muslims. He cites with considerable dexterity literary figures from various cultures, across many centuries, and in a host of genres. Unostentatiously, the author weaves these all into a seamless tapestry that invites readers to appreciate that "all things (considered in their depth) led into eluctable mystery" (93): Bishop Seraphim is concerned to show us how much he does not understand—or, better put, what no one can comprehend. In the best traditions of the rich Eastern Orthodox tradition in which he stands, this little book offers a contemporary—and very accessible—mystical theology.

Theology of Wonder is available from St. Vladimir's Seminary Press.

Eternal memory!


Source: LiveJournal

Seraphim in his own words, over the years: his LiveJournal.

UPDATE: A beautiful tribute to Seraphim from his friend Michael Meerson, who writes,

Maybe he truly was a seraph cast among humans, sent on some mysterious mission. A seraph on earth would move awkwardly in crowds, his wings more hindrance than help, yet he would ache constantly for the divine presence he had known before. That longing defined Seraphim. I have never met anyone so profoundly nostalgic for heaven.

(In Russian.)


The fourth Global Ecumenical Theological Institute (GETI) in Wadi El Natrun, Egypt—an Eastern Orthodox perspective. (How I wish I could talk about this report with Eden Grace!)

Micah Bales asks a key question: Who is in charge here?

You've heard of virtue-signalling. Now we have vice-signalling and vitriol-signalling.... (Skip these links if you want to stay on the sunny side of the street.)

Kristin Du Mez, Bruce Berglund, and the Moscow Playbook.

Writer and poet Nancy Thomas on the writing vocation, technological interruptions, and ... what rhymes with Forsythe?

Yougov statistics: Super Bowl vs Winter Olympics, and how book-reading is faring in the USA (not well!).


This time, our "Baby Scratch My Back" version comes from Otis Redding (audio only with slideshow). It's probably my favorite version strictly for vocal performance. Musicians: Booker T. & the M.G.'s (Steve Cropper, Donald Dunn, Al Jackson Jr., Booker T. Jones) along with pianist Isaac Hayes and a horn section including Wayne Jackson, Charles "Packy" Axton, Andrew Love, Floyd Newman, and Sammy Coleman.

29 January 2026

Once again, baby and bathwater

Source.  

Several times over the past twenty-plus years of this blog, I've referred favorably to the expression "Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater."

For example (April 2006):

Friends began, not as a relativization of Christianity, but as an intensification of Christianity. We did not throw away the Baby with the bathwater, but (sorry if you've heard this rant before!), the new scented bathwater in use among some seems to be so fine that the Baby can be left in the cold, and this is somehow called Quakerism!

More recently, in July 2024 I mentioned where I first saw this expression used among Friends:

As an old London Yearly Meeting poster once proclaimed, as nearly as I can remember, "Tired of organized religion? Don't throw out the baby with the bathwater." Let's just watch out for that exceptionalist temptation, whatever our corner of the Quaker world—to replace the Baby with our own bathwater, whether that be the subtle rose-scented water of liberal Quakerism or the soggy cliches of imported evangelicalism.

Just in passing ... my memory is that London Yearly Meeting published a number of other clever posters in the 1970's. My favorite was something like this: Don't just do something. Sit there.

My own personal interpretation of the baby/bathwater warning in the Quaker context: those early Friends no longer trusted the religion industry to interpret either faith or practice adequately, but, contrary to the angry charges of their Christian opponents, they did trust Jesus.

("Angry charges"? Read the accusations and responses in William Penn's tract, "A Key, Opening the Way to Every Capacity; How to Distinguish the Religion Professed by the People Called Quakers, from the Perversions and Misrepresentations of Their Adversaries.")

Today I was following up some Internet rabbit trails on deconstructing faith, and I found Jim Palmer's comments on the usefulness and limitations of the baby/bathwater expression. The responsibility is always upon us (individually and as a community) to define who/what the "baby" is that we are being advised not to throw out.

Palmer points out that, honestly, nobody actually advocates throwing out a baby with its bathwater, so the expression is sometimes used manipulatively. Yes, your deconstruction can go so far, but no farther. Palmer challenges us to decide for ourselves Who or what the baby is.

So ... should we Quakers still be using this expression in addressing prospective seekers? We're promising that, by giving up the structures, doctrines, and ceremonies of their previous affiliations (or the choices they dislike in the religious marketplace), they'll still be able to keep that which is essential. But will they really do so? Take that story of the (alleged) Philadelphia Quaker culture that the late Gordon Browne told (according to my imperfect memory):

A recent convert went into a Friends meeting in Philadelphia and burst into enthusiastic testimony: "Friends, I have to tell you—I've met Jesus! I've found religion!" Not content with one outburst, he got up again and said, "I can't hold it in! I'm reading the Bible—I've found religion!" After a third such exclamation, an elder stood up and addressed him directly: "Friend, you may have 'found religion' but you didn't find it here."

I want to say, gently (because this can certainly be overstated!), that the fastidious reserve of particular Quaker cultures has become a sort of bathwater that obscures the Baby and deserves to be drained, or at least diluted! After those cultures have molded several generations of Quakers, the centrality of Jesus has, at times, faded, to our loss and our potential irrelevance.

How would we know whether Jesus is still at the center? We could dutifully answer, "By gathering in his presence and prayerfully seeking his guidance in our decisionmaking," but that requires

  • persistence in discernment, not falling for convenient shortcuts—formulas, ideologies, rhetorics of shame, and persuasive personalities that can distract us from listening deeply to each other as we wait for clarity;
  • knowing and loving ourselves and each other to such a degree that we learn what helps and hinders each of us in our own hearts in seeking (or avoiding) clarity, and we discover who among us has shown this capacity to speak God's guidance clearly.

To quote Thomas S. Brown ("When Friends attend to business"): 

We are called to love those present enough to listen to what they have to say and to speak what is worth their hearing.

If Jesus is not relevant to a seeker's condition, there are certainly many other options in the religious marketplace, including the deceptive anti-baby of Christian nationalism. But we Friends who have experienced the liberating power of Jesus, can continue to offer (or ought to offer) a thoughtful and passionate devotion to the Lamb's War combined with a radical skepticism concerning the religion industry and its claims and priorities.


That skepticism is not a license to indulge in Quaker exceptionalism. It ought not to stand in the way of our cheering the Anglican communion for having chosen Sarah Mullally as Archbishop of Canterbury, the first woman to serve in that office.


From the Daily Quaker Message: Primitive Quakerism Revived.

From "Discrediting" the Military to High Treason and Terrorism: Sergei Davidis on the evolution of political repression in Russia since the start of the current war. It's a disastrous and discouraging progression for those who yearn for "the beautiful Russia of the future."

In summary, political repression in recent years has clearly intensified: sentences have lengthened, convictions under the gravest articles (treason, terrorism) have reached record highs, and the victim count continues to grow. At the same time, measured as a proportion of the population directly subjected to politically motivated criminal prosecution, the scale remains comparatively moderate—especially relative to Belarus (where the per capita rate of political imprisonment is significantly higher) and, even more so, the Stalinist period of the 1930s-1950s.

This scale likely reflects the «functional» nature of current repression: it provides the regime with adequate control at minimal cost. Several thousand imprisoned for political reasons (plus thousands facing criminal charges without incarceration and tens of thousands prosecuted administratively) suffice under present conditions. Several factors facilitate this efficiency. First, the modern information environment vastly amplifies the deterrent effect of even targeted repression. The variety, unpredictability, and broad social and geographic reach of charges foster a widespread mindset of keeping one’s head down. Second, society has been conditioned over 25 years of deepening authoritarianism to accept the status quo as inevitable and without alternative.

Tom Gates connects Rene Girard's mimetic theory and Quakers as "scapegoat caste."

Becky Ankeny on prayer as the most important act of resistance to evil.

A Tornado through our Republic: A message by Doug Bennett at Durham Friends Meeting, Maine, USA.


As promised, another back is scratched. Curtis Salgado, Igor Prado Trio, Ivan Márcio, Roger Guttierrez. São Paulo, Brazil.

05 June 2025

(Re)learning my mother tongue


My first passport.

For me, a former language teacher, there's nothing more humbling than studying a language I thought I already knew.

Family lore says that I spoke three languages before kindergarten: Norwegian, German, and English. In my birth home, Oslo, in my father's parents' home, I was surrounded by Norwegian. Then I lived with my German grandparents in Stuttgart, and German came naturally. During my English-speaking growing-up years in the Chicago area, I often returned to both sets of grandparents and the languages of my earliest years.

Roughly seven decades later, I don't have the same level of confidence at all with those first two languages. So now, long after my language-learning window has closed, neurologically speaking, I'm determined to get some of that confidence back. At least in Norwegian.

Well, I do have a head start, a passive knowledge of probably several hundred words. (Just for context, and humility ... according to Google, the average English speaker knows 20-40,000 words, and even a five-year old might know 5,000!)

Continuing the theme of head start and humility, a whole bunch of those several hundred words are cognates or near-cognates:

  • a ball - en ball
  • a bank - en bank
  • a boat - en båt 
  • a book - ei bok
  • a bush - en busk 
  • a cake - ei kake 
  • a cat - ei katt 
  • a clock - en klokke
  • a cow - ei ku
  • a daughter - ei datter 
  • a day - en dag 
  • a door - ei dør 
  • a fish - en fisk
  • a flag - et flagg
  • a garage - et garasje 
  • a glass - et glass 
  • a goat - ei geit 
  • a hammer - en hammer 
  • a house - et hus  
  • a night - en natt 
  • a plant - en plante 
  • a sea - en sjø 
  • a ship - et skip
  • a son - en sønn
  • a tree - et tre 
  • a window - et vindu 
  • grass - gress 
  • paper - papir

Almost as close:

  • an airplane - et fly
  • a brother - en bror
  • a dog - en hund (compare English hound)
  • an enemy - en fiende (compare English fiend)
  • a father - en far
  • a horse - en hest
  • a place - et sted (as in English bedstead, homestead, instead of)
  • a morning - en morgen
  • a mother - ei mor
  • a shirt - en skjorte
  • a sister - ei søster
  • a skirt - et skjørt
  • a stone - en stein 
  • a word - et ord
  • environment - miljø (compare with milieu)
  • food - mat (compare with English meat, which once meant food in general)
  • hi! - hei!
  • goodbye! - adjø! (compare French adieu!)

See how much Norwegian you and I already know?! And don't those words sound sort of like an echo of an ancient form of English? Thanks to Bnorsk.no for many of these examples and many other cognates (verbs, adjectives, etc.) you can find there.

My head start only goes so far; it disappears when I start dealing with a noun's gender. Some Norwegians divide all nouns into two genders, common and neuter. But others prefer to observe the division of common nouns into masculine with the indefinite article "en" (a son - en sønn) or feminine with the indefinite article "ei" (a book - ei bok). In any case, I need to learn the noun's article along with the noun.

To compensate, Norwegian verbs don't conjugate according to subject or pronoun. Whew!

I'm delicately skipping over the subjects of pronunciation and tonality.

I have two different ways of working with my remnant of passive Norwegian. I read textbooks of varying difficulty (such as the three pictured above) and Web sites such as ntnu.edu/now; I enjoy the little bursts of pleasure that I get when I realize that I understand the texts, either by knowing the full words or by recognizing the root words and the word-units in compound words, allowing me to guess their meanings. Context helps, too; I'm more likely to understand political and theological texts than, for example, poetry. It's fun to pick and choose among the various methods and levels of those different resources rather than just sticking to one of them.

This works for increasing my reading and vocabulary abilities. However, I need more help with listening comprehension (this is the area we focused on when we lived in Russia, teaching English) and much more help in speaking. For that, I abandon all pretense of being an advanced learner, and drill myself in the very basics, using Duolingo. I patiently work through exercise after exercise of speaking into the microphone when so instructed, patiently constructing sentences with the right word order, and reviewing my mistakes. Note to self: the word "my" comes after that noun that is mine.

My grandmother Gerd Jakobsen Maurer. Above her,
my great-great grandfather Johan Fredrik Maurer.

There's a practical side to this activity, aside from the alleged benefit in preventing or postponing Alzheimer's disease: in a month I plan to be attending the combined Nordic Yearly Meeting in Stavanger, Norway. It will serve as an exam of sorts, and already serves as powerful motivation. 

But the best part of these efforts is the way I feel reconnected to my fascinating and very literate grandmother, with whom I spent many hours in conversation from my first years until her death in 1988.


The photo of my grandmother comes from this post back in 2005. I still see her and my grandfather in my dreams ... where they're usually speaking English, which they both spoke very well.


Another advantage of immersing myself in relearning a language: a respite from the day's news.

There's no respite in Ukraine.

Timothy Snyder on the reasons he moved to Toronto last year (and things that were not reasons).

Walter Brueggemann died today. The news and the legacy. Rest in peace!

Michael Marsh invites us to think about our deathbed prayer. (Not a morbid post at all.)

Britain Yearly Meeting's 2025 epistle ... "We are reminded that the central message of the New Testament is one of love." Good, I think so, too, but Mark Russ has a caution.

Three more days to register for the annual sessions of Sierra-Cascades Yearly Meeting of Friends. Location: Reedwood Friends Church, across the street from Reed College in Portland, Oregon. (Online attendance is possible for the main sessions and some of the workshops.)


Austin John, "Long Distance Call." (The whole set is excellent.)

10 April 2025

What I know for certain

Cardinal Thomas Lawrence (played by Ralph Fiennes) giving his homily on certainty in the film Conclave.
Cardinal Thomas Lawrence (played by Ralph Fiennes) giving his homily on certainty in the film Conclave. Screenshot from source.

Conclave's fictional Cardinal Lawrence, addressing his fellow cardinals as they prepare to elect a new pope, warns them of a dangerous attitude: certainty.

There is one sin which I have come to fear above all others: certainty. Certainty is the great enemy of unity. Certainty is the deadly enemy of tolerance. … Our faith is a living thing precisely because it walks hand in hand with doubt. If there was only certainty and no doubt, there would be no mystery and, therefore, no need for faith. Let us pray that God grants us a pope who doubts. [Source.]

I don't totally agree. A personal sense of certainty can be a source of strength and courage. A few years ago, in a blog post inspired by Chris Hedges' When Atheism Becomes Religion, I made a distinction between personal certainty, on the one hand, and assertions of certainty in the social arena—particularly as categorical and coercive action.

I also admitted that ...

Certainty is a slippery quality. In my experience, it comes and goes—and returns. More importantly, it is relational rather than operational: I can be certain that God wants the best for you and me, and that God will be with you and me as we work for that best, but I'm hardly ever certain about what concrete steps to take next. For that decision, I need a mix of intuition, prayer, plain secular fact-checking, the wisdom of others, and a willingness to risk being wrong.

In the film Conclave, part of the context of Lawrence's homily on certainty is his understanding that the late pope, toward his end, had doubts—not about God, but about the church. It is institutionalized certainty that is the greater danger, and the cardinals would be wise to choose a pope who understands this.

This balancing act between personal certainty and socio-political uncertainty seems to me to be the way God set things up in the first place. I'm recalling the words of Anthony Bloom on God's powerlessness that I've quoted several times before. The context: In response to an interviewer's question, Bloom is commenting on the history of church/state relationships in Russia.

No party at all should be able to claim the Church as its own, but at the same time the Church is not non-party, or above parties. She must be the voice of a conscience illuminated by the Light of God. In the ideal state, the Church must be in a condition to speak to any party, any movement: "This is worthy of humanity and of God, and that is not." Of course, this can be done from either of two positions: either from a position of strength, or from a position of complete helplessness. It seems to me—and I'm deeply convinced of this—that the Church must never speak from a position of strength. The Church must not be one of the powers operating in this or that government; she must be, if you like, just as powerless as God, Who does not coerce, Who only calls us and reveals the beauty and truth of things, but doesn't enforce them on us; Who, similarly to the way our consciences work, points out the truth, but leaves us free to listen to truth and beauty—or to refuse them. It seems to me that this is how the Church should be. If the Church takes its place among those organizations that have power, that are able to force and direct events, then there will always be the risk that she would find power desirable; and as soon as the Church begins to dominate, she loses the most profound thing, the love of God, and an understanding of those who need salvation rather than the works of destruction and rebuilding.

(A lengthier extract is here, toward the end.)

For me, it follows that the work of evangelism is to encourage and draw out people's capacity to respond to God's call, God's offer of relationship, which would be reflected in our own offer of relationship, and our truthful testimony of how we have experienced that relationship in our faith community. This work does not depend on a convincing string of logical propositions, because no such string exists objectively apart from relationship. Just as with the turtles, it's relationships all the way down.

Photo: Judy Maurer, April 5.
Maybe God could have designed a more internally consistent and self-interpreting Bible and left manuscripts for it in perfect condition. Maybe God could have given us the ideal template for church government, along with sinless leaders to occupy perfectly-designed roles. And maybe God could have intervened more frequently and forcefully when we humans treated each other with gleeful cruelty. But as Eugene Peterson commented on the "nearly unrelieved mayhem" of the Book of Judges, 

Twice in Judges (17:6 and 21:25) there is the telling refrain: “At that time there was no king in Israel. People did whatever they felt like doing.” But we readers know that there was a king in Israel: God was king. And so, while the lack of an earthly king accounts for the moral and political anarchy, the presence of the sovereign God, however obscurely realized, means that the reality of the kingdom is never in doubt.

However strong our faith, no human being ever has the whole picture—and we just make things worse when we pretend otherwise. God has, for reasons that may always remain obscure, chosen to fulfill the promises of God through us and our fractious, fragile communities. In the short run, even if our faith is strong, failure is an option, but then we dust each other off and once again wait for God's pull on our hearts. The next steps might not be clear all at once, and we may disagree any number of ways. But the certainty of God's love shared among us motivates us to keep praying for unity, discernment, perspective, and courage. There are no shortcuts; weaponized certainty and coercion are just dead ends.


Tim Gee with more on the police raid on Westminster Friends' meetinghouse.

Tom Gates considers the Rwandan genocide of 1994, "...one of recent history’s most extraordinary cases of mass scapegoating."

David Roberts speaks to Spokane Friends on the dark side of community.

Have you seen the second season of the television drama Severance? Beth Felker Jones gives us a theological commentary. (Spoilers. I have just started watching the second season, so I didn't read her commentary to the end....)

Jeff Sharlet and the eroticization of cruelty: what did we see when Kristi Noem went to El Salvador?


My favorite Canadian blues guitarist, "The Ice Queen," Sue Foley.