A Kierkegaardian Reflection on the Upcoming Election

As I begin research for my undergraduate thesis, I am knee-deep in Kierkegaard and political studies. Hopefully that will spill into content for this neglected blog, but in the meantime here is a quote I find most apt to our current situation. I'll allow the reader to draw implications.

"According to its definition, 'the crowd' is always misled--for if it is genuinely led, there is no crowd; where there is genuine leading, eternally understood, there is no crowd."
--Journals, V. III, #2935

Occupy Wall Street: Some Explanations

In the spirit of the random, seemingly incomplete, and sporadic nature of this blog, I figured it is probably the perfect place to discuss my feelings on Occupy Wall Street (OWS).

I have avoided this for quite some time, as I wanted to get a good feel for the movement. I also wanted to allow sufficient time for some commentary voices to emerge (i.e. West, Hardt and Negri, and Zizek). After much conversation among colleagues and philosophical cirlces I am involved in, I have decided I feel adequately prepared to offer some thoughts on the movement for those struggling to understand it with a Christian lens.

First, we must understand the movement on its own terms. Many people are asking good questions, and as such I will format my blog in a Q&A type of pattern. I will not address too deeply my feelings about the movement as a whole (they are probably obvious), but I hope in the near future to write about what a Christian response to OWS might look like.

What exactly is Occupy Wall Street?
According to Adbusters (the group of "culture jammers" that called for the Occupation), "#OCCUPYWALLSTREET is a leaderless people powered movement for democracy that began in America on September 17 with an encampment in the financial district of New York City. Inspired by the Egyptian Tahrir Square uprising and the Spanish acampadas, we vow to end the monied corruption of our democracy..." This definition, though loose, is perhaps one of the best definitions given thus far, and its strength lies in its succinct ambiguity. I will, however, try to expand the definition a bit further from my understanding.

OWS is leaderless. Though the Adbusters crew has taken the reigns here and there, and though there have been "demands" published, the movement remains radically democratic. Sociologists tend to assume a leader will eventually emerge in any newly formed group, and perhaps this will occur, but as it stands the movement is a loose confederation of a multiplicity of perspectives and as such it is unable to be subsumed underneath the labels or goals of one person or particular set of ideas (i.e. communism, socialism, capitalism, conservative, liberal, etc.).

OWS is people powered. The eschewing of party-lines and specific, established doctrines allows OWS to retain its autonomy outside of the usual political agendas we have heard bantered about for quite some time. Its loose set of frustrations and general attitude of invitation and openness allows for plurality to emerge. It does not take its cues from existing hierarchical structures or parties (like the republicans or democrats) but from its gathered members.

OWS is a movement for democracy. Experimenting in new practices of sovereignty and dialogue within the Occupations themselves shows that the movement is attempting to articulate a more radical democracy than the current representational one. The use of General Assemblies, social media, and inclusion (often privileging) of marginalized groups is a move toward a more egalitarian understanding of the body politic. As philosophers Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri argue, this movement is, if nothing else, "powerfully expressing the aspiration for a 'real democracy.'"

OWS is against the monied corruption of democracy. If there is any unifying factor to be found at OWS outside of promoting a more radical democratic process it is a shared suspicion of current economic practices. Though the protestors are certainly not uniform in their articulation of an alternative (indeed, many are admitted capitalists, communists, socialists, Christians, nihilists, etc.), the articulation of the problem(s) appears to be, by and large, the same: economic sovereignty has replaced and subjugated political sovereignty, and it must be stopped.

Who exactly is Occupy Wall Street?
Much has been made in the media of attempting to apply a general label the protestors at OWS. Everything from Nazis to hippies has been suggested. Right-wing media tends to perceive them as liberal gnats buzzing around, annoying hard-working people for no real reason other than nostalgia, stupidity, and laziness. Left-wing media tends to perceive them as glorified democrats, hoping for them to back Obama ASAP so we can get on with real politics. Though these are generalizations, I find these to be helpful and, I would venture, not particularly far off. Both, of course, are far too simple to really grasp the situation that is OWS.

So who is running the show here? One would not be totally incorrect to suggest a group of mostly left-leaning young people (though "left" must not be softened into "democrat" or "liberal"--it is much more radical than that, for better and worse), though, as I mentioned above, this is not the ultimate descriptor and does not reflect the total population. Perhaps it would be best, in the spirit of OWS, to define this group by using negatives rather than postives. That is, who are the protestors not? They are not hippies. They are not idiots. They are not stupid. They are not Nazis, lazy, bored, childish, or dreamers. (Surely one could find several individual protestors that fit one or more of these categories, but we must be careful not to be so quick to judge the whole based on the part--indeed, if we do this, then we best give up Christianity before anything else!). Whoever they are (and "they" are, again, a multiplicity of particular individuals), they are not easily reduced to favorite talk-show buzz words or McCarthy-style demonizations.

Where is all of this headed?
This, I must admit, is the question I cannot answer. I have speculations, of course, and especially hopes, but I do not have answers. Several have been posed, and you are invited to search the links provided at the end of this post to come to some conclusions yourself. I have never confessed to having the gift of prophecy, so I will not start now. However, I hope to work out some of my hopes and interests in the next post discussing OWS more personally.

So to summarize,
OWS does not want the government to expand to redistribute wealth (like democrats or socialists), nor does it suspect the market to bring itself to equilibrium or justice once freed from the chains of state authority (republicans or conservatives). OWS is not a unified group of individuals with the same intentions. OWS is not looking for hand outs (indeed, they protest the bail outs--the ultimate hand outs, and to the wealthy, no less). OWS is looking for justice. Whatever that is and how it can be obtained are yet to be determined. But at the very least, OWS is looking to open up channels and spaces to start having these discussions--to figure out what exactly is going on so we can figure out what approximately might be done.

Whatever we say about OWS, one thing is clear: it is not as easy to dismiss or rally behind as popular media would like.

Here are some philosophers discussing the issue:
Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri
Slavoj Zizek

A few general articles:
Bernard E. Harcourt on Zizek and Badiou in relation to OWS.
Wikipedia's timeline of OWS
NPR has a series of articles on OWS
The Pope and OWS

Videos
Cornel West at OWS
Cornel West interview
Slavoj Zizek at OWS

There are many other videos and photos of the movement as a whole. A simple YouTube or Google search will yield results.

How Christian is our Present-Day Theology? pt. 2

This is the essay I just finished on Franz Overbeck. Dr. Kanterian liked it much more than my previous one on Kierkegaard and paradox. He commented on my paper that it seems as though Overbeck could be writing out of Washington in 2011. I thought I would post it here because I think it has legitimate implications for contemporary society and theology, and I would definitely not mind help dealing with these difficult issues. The problems and anxieties of modernity clearly haven't shifted all that much in 100 years. My next essay is on Nietzsche's Untimely Meditations, which deals with similar issues as Overbeck and was published at the same time as his book, so hopefully I can pull together some more themes in reference to these issues. Before showing the essay, I must express my extreme gratitude to Aaron Caudill for reading through it and helping me agonize over editing decisions. Mr. Caudill--you're the man.

How Christian is our Present-Day Theology?

The title of this essay is an amalgamation of what are some of the most ambiguous terms of the twenty-first century.  What does it mean to use “Christian” as an adjective (or any other part of speech, for that matter)? What is the “present-day” in a post-everything age? What is “theology” after the death of God? Though surely the jury is still out on such definitions (as it should be), one juror who may be of particular help is the German theologian Franz Overbeck, especially his book after which this essay is named. In this work, Overbeck strikes a pose against the task of theology in general, which he considers to be a project of “self-misunderstanding” that seeks to make the alien Gospel of Christianity palatable to worldly modes of being and thought. Although he fixates on the two driving strands of theology in his modern context (apologetic and liberal), his critique goes all the way down to the Church Fathers. He advocates, however, a recovery of primitive Christianity as a means of prophetic critique against prevailing systems and structures. Such a critique, perhaps now more than ever, is desperately necessary for the survival of whatever we might call the root of Christianity and the sanity of contemporary society. It is the task of this essay to work in a similar vein as Overbeck, using the call of Christianity to critique the theology typically branded as “Christian” in hopes that the “self-misunderstanding” of Christianity identified by Overbeck might be transfigured into a “self-understanding,” capable of assuming its prophetic task.

ARGUMENT 1: The anti-Christianity of theology.

In order to speak of Christianity as a means of prophetic critique, we must first uncover how such a critique has been stifled. It is here that Overbeck is most helpful, particularly in his historical narrative of Christianity contrasted with a more popular one. The contemporary story that finds its way most readily into the public is one in which Christianity provides the foundations of reason. On this view, it is a logically defensible and justifiable religion as a result of its having contributed so much to our tradition of rationality as well as its allegedly reasonable claims. As it comes into contact with other worldviews, a natural butting of heads will occur. Both worldviews, however, can make use of a neutral space of reason which serves as an ultimate adjudicator of the opposing sides, and the Christian knows its opposition is simply mistaken in the dialectical process. Apologetics becomes one of the most respectable feats and professions and garners praise and admiration from typical churchgoers and pastors alike, as it is the apologists who allow Christians to feel most comfortable as though they have chosen the most cohesive epistemological path.

Such a narrative is well contrasted with Overbeck.  On his view, the essential soul of Christianity is one of “world-negation,” one that is purely eschatological, with death and a radically new life as its posture toward the world. Indeed, the call of Christianity was the call of faith, rather than the call of knowledge. Overbeck specifically attacks the notion that Christianity is somehow the grounding for a move toward rational knowledge. This is in fact the moment Christianity forfeits its claims as a viable religion “for, if Christianity is considered as a religion, then it is rather the case that, like every religion, it has the most unambiguous antipathy towards rational knowledge.”[1] In Overbeck’s narrative, as Christianity progressed it found itself holding power and the need to legitimize itself resulting in appeals to Greek philosophy (more contemporarily, this includes the scientific method, historical criticism, etc.). It felt obligated to answer worldly concerns and stabilize itself within the world, rather than operate from its otherworldliness. Overbeck is worth quoting at length:

But as soon as critical thought is appealed to, we are dealing with something other than faith…for that reason too, in so far as theology brings faith into contact with rational knowledge, it is in itself and by its very nature always irreligious. And theology can only ever develop where concerns alien to religion’s own intrinsic interests emerge alongside the latter. Just how alien these concerns in fact are to religion, how opposed in particular the concerns of rational thought are to those of faith, we can see very clearly from the fact that the most essential of faith’s basic assumptions and supports are the very first ones to collapse, and to collapse most comprehensively, when submitted to rational explanations.[2]

Even the structure of the biblical canon shows Christianity’s resistance to worldly epistemologies. Overbeck provides the example of placing the Gospel of John next to the synoptics. [3] Theology, that is, the process of rationalizing and thus dressing up the faith-oriented call of Christianity to make it presentable to the world, is at odds with the Christian narrative. It is a self-misunderstanding. Instead of retaining its ability to critique the world from an external position, it finds itself constantly catering to the accepted measurements of the world, as it has “no epistemological principles of its own.”[4] It does not allow itself to be its own voice but simply borrows from other disciplines, thus establishing itself not as a religious worldview but as a struggling attempt to construct a system of thought based on a foundation of faith that is antithetical to the rationalizing project.

ARGUMENT 2: The anti-Christianity of present-day theology.

Such a self-misunderstanding has had dire consequences for the faithful in the world including abuses of Church power, ongoing secularity, self-marginalization, intentional ignorance, and, most importantly, a loss of a posture with which it might speak to the world rather than be subordinated to it. The current theological situation is perhaps the most tangible example of such a loss. Particularly interesting is how theology finds its way into the masses, and Overbeck provides continued help in his discussion of “popular theology.” Theology, suggests Overbeck, is a bit of a scholastic oddity. As a discipline, it is ridiculed and always on the defensive, constantly struggling to keep its head above water (Overbeck says it is the least popular of the disciplines[5]). Its lack of respect in the academy, however, is inversely proportional to the interest shown in it by the public.

A cursory glance at a popular bookstore or bestseller list will surely indicate that the ubiquitous struggle between apologists and their detractors has many patrons. However, Overbeck states clearly that apologists have no business in the public academic climate. He writes “What characterizes present-day apologetic theology is the utter thoughtlessness with which it has followed its opponents into the public arena.”[6] Here he begins to show most clearly his existentialist tendencies, as he criticizes the modern attempt to legitimize Christianity via proofs and rhetoric.  Natural science, for example, is useful “in the so-called struggle for existence.”[7] However, in contrast he says, “Popular academic theology can be of no use at all in this sense. For what religion can mean to people in the difficulties of life is not enhanced or strengthened by theology, but diminished and weakened.”[8] The vast array of attempts to answer the challenges of postmodernism and popular atheism have been met not by living alternative realities informed by a faith of finitude but by appealing to allegedly neutral spaces of proof, a substituting of faith for reason, which results in either an argumentative impasse or justified ridicule. The laity, confident that the apologists have legitimized faith via reason, is often sucked into the dichotomy resulting in an obsession with argument to the detriment of lived community. Any time scholarship loses touch with lived experience it commits the ultimate crime (and the “new atheists” engaging in debates with the apologists are guilty of the same critique). “Popular theology, then, blurs far too easily the dividing lines between faith and knowledge in people’s minds. That, however, is the beginning of all barbarism.”[9]

ARGUMENT 3: The Kingdom of God is not of this world.

All of this deconstruction of “theology,” however, warrants an attempt at a positive articulation of what Christianity ought to be in contrast to how it manifests in the aforementioned ways. What Overbeck has in mind when critiquing “theology” clearly cannot mean any talk of God or Christianity proper. This is evidenced by his repeated assertions of what Christianity is: something external to the world that sits in a position to critique it.  Overbeck’s driving theme is that, “world-negation is the innermost soul of Christianity”.[10] It responds to the fundamental problems of existence (birth, life and death) through an eschatological vision. This vision is not purely theoretical. Instead, Overbeck says, “The Christian religion bore witness to itself by living realities.”[11] This witness is best seen in the world-negating forces of asceticism and monasticism; indeed, even the garb and celibacy of priests embodies a vision of the future Kingdom. Christianity allows individuals to rise beyond the problems of the world, not in escapism but as a means of fully dealing with them. “The only serious grounds human beings have ever had for accepting Christianity has been their awareness of the misery of existence.”[12] The problem Christianity ran into was, as mentioned above, the attempt to return to the world after forgetting its celestial home. “Christianity only acquired a theology when it wanted to gain a foothold in a world it was supposed to have rejected.”[13] This happens especially when Christianity becomes a bedfellow to politics. Such a relationship is most easily seen in the political climate of America, which is marked by an appeal to be legitimized by Christianity, thus making Christianity subservient once again to perhaps the most worldly of demands. National exceptionalism indicates “one of the most basic convictions of Christianity is dead.”[14] There is but one King of kings, and, as Christ responds to Pilate, if his Kingdom was of this world his disciples would fight for him.[15]

ARGUMENT 4: The Kingdom of God is in your midst.

This otherworldly character, however, must never be over-emphasized to the point of ignoring earthly plights. Though Overbeck focuses primarily on this “world-negation” of Christianity, indeed its crucial theme, he viewed the faith as presenting a more eudaemonistic vision as he matured.[16] That Christ himself expresses the Kingdom as both not of this world (John 18:36) and also in our midst (Luke 17:21) is indicative of the chief character of Christianity, namely, expressing truths through contradictory binaries (life and death, love and hate, power and humility, wealth and poverty, etc.).[17] Christianity is committed to speaking into the world, having transcended it, but without conforming to it. It offers a prophetic voice able to speak to the anxieties of modernity, such as fragmentation. Overbeck writes:

There are many liberating ideas that Christianity’s view of life can still offer the contemporary world. Today, when nations are so clearly going their separate ways, when the different classes in society are threatening to become isolated from each other in an all too hostile fashion, and when even individuals reveal a disturbing indifference to any kind of community not based solely on baser interests, it is surely still of inestimable value if, over this whole ominous process of disintegration, at least the name of Christianity should hover as a kind of categorical imperative, condemning it.[18]

Not only can it condemn disintegration, but in the midst of such an “ominous process” it is able to speak of a Kingdom to come and a Kingdom that is here—something to hope for and something to participate in. It does not accommodate the world; it crafts a new one in contradistinction to it.

CONCLUSION

It is clear that theology is a self-misunderstanding. The gap between faith and knowledge is not something to be bridged but to be recognized, like the gap separating Lazarus from the rich man (Luke 16:19-31). Not until Christianity purges itself of a fixation on worldly respect will it be able to follow the steps of its Messiah.  Then it may offer a critique of empire, injustice, and selfishness by opening up a pathway to palpable redemption, both in this world and the world to come. “A religion need not be particularly concerned about the myths it has created, so long as its power to generate myths remains a living force, i.e. so long as the miraculous forces that produced its basic myth still remain operative in it.”[19]  Mystery and ambiguity are the most significant parts of faith. Mystery allows for the creative unfolding of God’s power and the possibility of a real community that may speak prophetically into the world. This community must overcome its insecurities not by appeals to apologetic theology but by the faith it builds itself on through prayer and action. This is not to say that there is no place for reason or the dialectical process. Instead it is to uphold the primacy of faith and declare, along with Anselm: faith seeks understanding.

---

[1]Franz Overbeck. How Christian is our Present-Day Theology? Trans. Martin Henry. London : T & T Clark International. 2005.  30. Emphasis in original.

[2] Ibid. 32. Emphasis in original.

[3] Ibid. 49.

[4] Ibid. 40.

[5] Ibid. 97.

[6] Ibid. 92.

[7] Ibid. 97.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Ibid.

[10] Ibid. 91.

[11] Ibid. 37.

[12] Ibid. 72.

[13] Ibid. 39.

[14] Ibid. 64.

[15] John 18:36.

[16] Overbeck. How Christian…footnote 39.  xxix.

[17] The duality of the Kingdom is preserved in two strands, one within monasticism and the other in works like Augustine’s City of God.

[18] Overbeck. How Christian…113.

[19] Ibid. 41.

"How Christian is our Present-Day Theology?"

So I finally had my first tutorial with Dr. Kanterian. It was actually very interesting, to say the least. His office is nestled deep within an obscure building in Trinity College. After finding it, I sat outside the top room where I heard a tutorial going on. I then discovered every possible way to make unexpected noise which was surely disruptive including eating a loud granola bar, walking with my hard shoes to find a garbage can, having water go down "the wrong tube" causing a hellish coughing fit which I had to fight back, and (the definite classic from having backpacks and loose sneakers in mass during gradeschool) trying to figure out the best speed at which to pull velcro apart to be the least noticeable.

Of course, after about twenty minutes of eavesdropping on what sounded like a chemistry lecture, I decided this probably wasn't Dr. Kanterian's office. So I explored some more, tried a random door, and lo and behold--Dr. Kanterian.

We were actually dressed in the same outfit--cool shoes, courdoroy pants, and a sweater over a button-up shirt. The first thing I noticed was a copy of Sein und Zeit by Martin Heidegger on the ground (just light reading, of course). I then saw a wall of books including a vast array of German philosophers in German, which made perfect sense since it turns out Dr. Kanterian is actually German himself, as well as an entire shelf of Wittgenstein writings.

The tutorial itself was quite an experience. The essay question, as I mentioned here before, was "Should we believe in what is paradoxical?" Fear and Trembling was to be my guide with limited secondary material consulted. After some quick but cordial introductions, Kanterian asked me to read my essay aloud (we both had hard copies). I was initially nervous, but soon really enjoyed being able to draw out my inflection in the writing and provide some clarification on a few footnotes. He stopped me every once in a while to write comments on his copy and asked me to proceed. He never verbally made a comment during my reading other than to have me wait. At the end, he posed this scenario to me. Suppose you and I are walking on the street and we see a man who holds a knife up to his son's throat in front of us. What are we to do? This led to a lengthy discussion of the universal, the ethical, and the paradoxical. Kanterian was clearly coming from an analytic vantage point, as he often keyed in on the term "paradox" and was quite upset with Kierkegaard's usage of the term.

From Kanterian's perspective, the term paradox must be either impossible to do or impossible to talk about, neither of which Johannes de Silentio (Kierkegaard's pseudonym) affirms. I tried to state that Silentio is being playful with the term and has his eyes set on a Hegelian, Danish Christianity, in which Abraham really does seem to be totally paradoxical. After several long discussions and attempts at defining terms, we discovered we had reached an impasse. I believe we were talking passed each other, and I am still convinced that Kanterian is trying to box Silentio into a box of logic and tidy terms while I think Silentio is doing something purposefully frustrating and playful. Regardless, however, Kanterian argued with clarity and great manners and legitimately sought to help me understand what was going on. I never felt offended or that he was aggressive, and I hope he could say the same for me.

At the end of the tutorial, Kanterian asked me why I was interested in Kierkegaard. I basically summed up my first post I made on this blog. I think Kierkegaard offers an incredibly helpful hermeneutic for navigating complacent Christianity, especially as evidenced in America (Kanterian seemed shocked to find out that many American Christians affirm the death penalty). He decided I was a bit too familiar with Kierkegaard for the tutorial to be of much use and suggested a few alternatives, which leads to what I am most excited to talk about here: Franz Overbeck.

When Kanterian thought about my project, he first suggested I read Nietzsche. After some discussion he came up with another name. Franz Overbeck. Overbeck was a theologian who lived on the same floor as Nietzsche and became close friends with him. He didn't write a lot, but he did cause quite a stir. Apparently he also fed quite heavily into Karl Barth. Overbeck has been ignored largely in the English-speaking world since not much of his work is translated, but his major work, How Christian is our Present-Day Theology? was available in English at the Bodleian Library.

In the work, Overbeck really takes theology, both conservative and liberal, to task for having negated all of Christianity. And this critique is not isolated to the modern critical Protestantism but in fact extends all the way back into the Greek Christian Fathers. In Overbeck's view, Christianity is a religion of finitude--it reminds humans of the transient nature of life and it emphasizes death, always looking to the world to come. Theology, instead, tames the radical message of finitude in order for us to enjoy life here and now. As he says on page 54, "...the light that [Christianity] casts on the world to come serves not so much to illuminate the next world as to emphasize the darkness of this world." He rails against the attempts to systematize and legitimize Christianity to the rest of the world (via any proofs other than experiential ones, whether they be philosophical, historical, scientific, etc.), instead saying Christianity is a religion of "lived realities." My next essay, due Saturday, takes the title of Overbeck's book as its driving question--how Christian is our present-day theology?

So basically, I have 1500-2000 words to explain the critique of an obscure German (anti?)theologian and apply it to American Christianity. This is a challenge I will gladly accept.

I am about 90 pages into the book so far (almost half way through it), and I must say it's a wild ride but very fascinating and seemingly rewarding. I must say that I am really looking forward to finishing the text and writing the paper (I can only read it on weekdays from 9-5 in the Bodleian, so today is my forced day off).

Until then, I will close with this quote from Overbeck:

The only serious grounds human beings have ever had for accepting Christianity has been their awareness of the misery of existence. If apologetics does not find again the ability to speak as it did in the past, then it may ransack heaven and earth in search of proofs from history and natural history, but no one who can think for himself--or no one of any real sensitivity--once he has lost his faith, will be won over to belief in its myths and dogmas. (72-73)

An Accidental Protest

I don't have much to report philosophically, but I do have some potentially interesting updates on my trip.

One is to report how awesome Cornmarket Street is. It's a shopping street, so no cars drive on it, and there are many entertainers throughout. I took this video of a living statue there:

Other than that I have mostly been working my way as slowly and deliberately as possible through Fear and Trembling. This is about my third time reading it, so I want to be intentional about not missing things. I do a lot of work in Blackwell's book shop, though I will soon probably move to the Bodleian Library or New College.

The most interesting thing thus far, however, was my trip to London. I went on a walking tour of Westminster and was supposed to go to either a Churchill museum or the Globe Theatre to see All's Well that Ends Well. I got sidetracked, however, by an older gentleman dressed in a nice suit sitting next to several protest signs and tents across the street from Parliament (on the sidewalk of Parliament Square). I have to say that this was a much better way to spend my day in London.

The man, "Bunny," as he's been called since he was a boy, is 81 years old and has been coming to that place for about two days a week for the last six years. He has been a committed communist for much of his life but affirms a sort of heterodox theism. His mission? "Scrap the military" and "scrap capitalism," which he wrote on his last voting ballots.

Naturally, I found a fast friend.

But Bunny didn't start the protest. In fact, yesterday was the ten year anniversary of its creation by a man named Brian Haw. Brian is currently in Germany being treated for cancer, but until he had to leave he lived on the sidewalk spreading a message of peace, love, and justice. Since he left, others (like Bunny) have taken shifts watching the protest, and a woman named Barbara lives there 24/7. I met a lot of interesting characters there. To understand Bunny, think of the sweetest, kindest old man who attends your church. Then have him say that he is a communist and sprinkle in some "weak theology" from John D. Caputo (though he is not in the least concerned with postmodernism). He offered me some of his melted chocolate bar and several cookies. Other characters I met included Eddy Boyce, a man deeply convinced of the workings of the Illuminati and other mysterious and ominous powers of control. He is perhaps the most violent man of peace I have ever met, but I say that in a positive sense. I also met a Muslim Palestinian named Sara, who was very kind and spoke about Islam and took us to Tesco, another older couple whose names currently escape me (they were met at the end), and Barbara.

What was the most fascinating part of this protest? Well, the group of protestors represented a huge managerie of differing theologies, suspicions, and even approaches to peace. But their unifier was ultimately Brian Haw. From what I am told, Haw had always expressed his protest as an outflowing of his understanding of Christianity. Bunny said he often quoted Scripture and encouraged the others to take up their cross when harrassed by the police, bums, or drivers. The one thing that ultimately unified all of these people was their deep care for Haw. In him they saw authenticity and the Gospel. As Bunny said, we must always take up our cross and never forget the resurrection.

The day was wild. This is perhaps the strangest part. Alongside Haw's protest signs are a few other camps that, if viewed from the road, seem indistinguishable. When I asked Bunny why the others weren't at the Haw protest, he told me quite a story. Parliament Square is a large, grassy lawn surrounded by statues of major British figures like Churchill. However, when I went there the area was fenced off with a sign that apologized for the temporary inconvenience. Bunny said up until two years ago the protest was on the lawn. A group claiming to be for democracy and peace showed up one day and soon began stirring up violence and unrest. The result was moving everyone to the sidewalk and blocking off the Square. I asked how the group could have done that if they were committed to peace. He said they are "drunks and bums" hired by the police to badger and harrass the Haw protestors to get away from Parliament.

I must say that I was initially skeptical. Sometimes misunderstandings happen, and two years is a long time to nurse enmity. However, after Eddy came around, a man walked over and started trying to provoke Eddy to react (I must say that from the little I know of Eddy's vicious rhetoric, I am impressed that he managed to contain himself). Bunny asked if he was from the other group, and the man responded quite coldly. I asked him if he was committed to peace. He said yes, but had nothing to say about it and immediately began pushing Eddy around again for no reason whatsoever. Eventually, he dropped a bottle of wine on the sidewalk which caused everyone to jump. He said he was making his point and left.

It was honestly quite frightening. He was a very unpredictable individual, but one thing was clear: peace was not on the agenda. Eddy further explained to me that they will often drink in front of the protesters to make them look like drunks and bums and sometimes go to the bathroom behind the Haw tents. Of course, all of this is done right across the street from Parliament in full view of the police. Brian and Barbara have both been beaten by them.

So that's how I spent my London experience protesting the Iraq War for four hours with a communist, an anarchist (though Eddy doesn't like labels), two muslims, an older couple, and a mom with a mission (Barbara). Though personally I am still a bit unsure of some of their oppositional rhetoric and would prefer Berry's vision in "The Purpose of a Coherent Community" in The Way of Ignorance, I found them all to be incredibly hospitable, inviting, loving, and committed to peace.

This is the website to follow everything that is going on there. Please pray for peace in the world and for Brian's health as he is treated for cancer in Germany. And if you're feeling really ambitious, go there--or donate!

Bunny said he'll be back there Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of next week. I may go visit him again.

OXFORD

After a lengthy time of dormancy and intellectual growth, I have decided it is time to revisit this old thing for many reasons, not least of which is the fact that I am finally, officially studying that wonderful Dane in a tutorial at the oldest university in the English-speaking world: Oxford.

Specifically, I am studying at New College (most people are not aware that Oxford is in fact a collection of smaller more or less autonomous colleges set up similar to American government in which colleges act like states and the university like the federal government), though the name is misleading considering it was established in 1379 to train members of the clergy after the Black Death emptied the priesthood. A lot more fascinating information can be found on its Wikipedia page.

As I mentioned, I will be studying Kierkegaard. My tutor is Dr. Edward Kanterian. He is trained in both the analytic and continental traditions of philosophy (something probably best explained at a later time), which is incredibly intimidating and encouraging considering I am almost exclusively aquainted with the continental tradition.

The Oxford tutorial system is quite different from the American classroom. They work like this: you meet with your tutor once a week to discuss your subject, particularly focusing on the "Oxford essays" that you are required to write. An Oxford essay is a paper around 1500-2000 words (in my case) that adheres to a strict argumentative and formal pattern on a prompt given in the beginning of the week. For example, my first prompt is focused on Fear and Trembling and deals with the question "Should we believe in what is paradoxical?" Needless to say, I am quite excited to explore the idea, particularly with one established in the analytic tradition.

My tutorial will last four weeks. I figured this experience is probably a good one to kick off the spring emergence of my hibernating blog. I may or may not have time to update this often, considering I still have to keep up with people back home and my rigorous course work, but I am looking forward to posting papers and thoughts on here as the time goes on.

In regards to my blog more specifically, I have taken down a few things that seemed like distracting loose ends and have left some things up that I find a bit embarrassing but feel should be preserved for posterity. I hope to explain some of these changes as time goes on, specifically with reference to Marx.

Until then, here is a great quote from Kierkegaard that is spurring my essay on:

Now faith is just this paradox, that the single individual, though under the demands of the universal, is higher than the universal. If that is not faith, then Abraham is done for and faith has never existed in the world. If the ethical life is the highest and nothing incommensurable is left over, except in the sense of what is evil, then one needs no other categories than those of the philosophers. Goodbye to Abraham! But faith is just this paradox, that the single individual, though bound by the universal, is higher than the universal. As a single individual, as the particular, he stands in an absolute relation to the Absolute. The ethical is thus suspended. Faith is this paradox.

Seeing To It

As a quick side note, I have created another blog entitled Seeing To It.

The purposes of this blog are explained in it, but basically it serves as a space for reviews of books I am currently reading.

You can find it by clicking the title above.