The first celebration of July 4th was by some pietist, pacifist Moravians in North Carolina


Civil War era Moravian band

Civil War era Moravian band – this pietist group has always been known for its music

Great piece today over at the Daily Beast on the very first July 4th celebration. A sample:

They also had a strong pacifist tradition, dating to their founding amid the religious struggles of the 15th century as a “peace church.” Members were forbidden to serve in the military. They lived by the teachings in Christ’s Sermon on the Mount.

It’s little wonder that by 1783, the Moravians in Salem were thrilled that the battles were over. During the Revolution, both British and rebels harassed them, collected fines, and even attacked them physically. Some young men hid in the forest to escape being pressed into service. A few did join with the rebels; the church forgave them later.

Too, the Moravians, despite their reluctance to bear arms, were pleased to be part of the new country, now that it was at peace. They heeded the governor’s proclamation. And eight years later, in 1791, they welcomed President George Washington for a two-day stay and tour of the settlement.

The whole article can be found here.

Holy Roman Emperor, Batman! A great opportunity to get on board with Christian History magazine


CHM108_EmailHeader_C

Friends, if you haven’t yet pulled the trigger on a free-with-encouragement-to-donate subscription to Christian History Magazine, now’s the time! Trust me, this upcoming Charlemagne/Christendom issue is both fascinating and gorgeous. Man, am I proud of the jobJennifer Woodruff TaitEdwin Woodruff TaitDawn Myers-MooreJennifer Trafton PetersonMeg Goddard Moss, and the rest of the Christian History team have done on this one. Sign up right away and you’ll soon be getting this in the mail.

Here’s the link with the skinny.

Wonder of Incarnation -> wonder of Creation


hehagiatrias

Another of the last few posts from my Getting Medieval: An Exploration with C S Lewis. Sorry the posts are sporadic – enjoying a wonderful junket in England. Was at the Kilns this afternoon – now back in London. :)

Attention to the Incarnation can also renew our sense of the wonders of Creation, as God not only Created the world but also came and participated in it, and in the process gave Creation a renewed dignity. The Incarnation is also, as John of Damascus argued at the Second Nicene Council in 787 (and the church agreed with him and made his position dogma), the warrant for the sacramental understanding of human-made material things such as icons.

First, the Incarnation prevents us once and for all from the temptation to talk about Creation – or any part of creation – as if it were inherently evil. For if it were inherently evil, then God could not have joined himself to it: “It has always been realized in the main tradition of Christianity that if the Word was made flesh, matter can never be regarded as evil in itself.”[1] Darrel Amundsen strengthens the connection by observing that “individuals or groups (e.g., Gnostics, Manicheans, Marcionites) on the periphery of Christianity who conceived of matter as inherently evil also balked at the doctrine of the Incarnation.”[2]

Second, in fact, this raising up of creation was the real and final purpose of the Incarnation. Lewis has this in Perelandra: “All which is not itself the Great Dance was made in order that He might come down into it. In the Fallen World He prepared for Himself a body and was united with the Dust and made it glorious for ever. This is the end and final cause of all creating, and the sin whereby it came is called Fortunate and the world where this was enacted is the centre of worlds. Blessed be He!”


[1] Herbert Butterfield, quoted in Darrel W. Amundsen, Medicine, Society, and Faith in the Ancient and Medieval Worlds (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), p. 332; cited in n. 23.

[2] Amundson, p. 332.

C S Lewis, incarnation and morality: Living what we are, and avoiding the super-spirituality trap


cslewis-pipe (1)Apologies for neglecting the blog – have been traveling in the UK. Hoping to visit the Kilns tomorrow! Here is one of the last bits of Medieval Wisdom: An Exploration with C  S Lewis:

When we appreciate the humanity of humanity, and the ways in which Christ is incarnated not only in his own flesh, as a first-century Jew from Nazareth but also (though in a different sense) in his church and in all humanity – as Benedict saw – this will heighten our sense of the sacredness and dignity of others. It will change the ways we treat others in our ordinary lives – in our workplaces, our families, our societies.

There is an important corollary of this Incarnational principle in ethics: Incarnational morality is ordinary morality, of the sort Lewis portrayed so winsomely in the Household of St. Anne in That Hideous Strength. By seeing our own ethical lives in the light of our bodily limitations, illuminated further by God’s own assumption of, and elevation of, human nature, we are released from the pressure of perfection. Continue reading

Incarnation and compassion


passion medieval imageAnother “mini-post” that wraps up my series from the draft of my forthcoming Medieval Wisdom: An Exploration with C S Lewis:

Compassion

A renewed incarnational awareness will also give us a renewed and particular energy toward compassionate ministry, as it did for 12th-13th c. Christians in the “charitable revolution” of those centuries – and indeed in the whole long Christian growth and development of the hospital. But more broadly in all forms of compassionate ministry. Medieval Christians’ acute awareness of the Incarnation was no theologically fuzzy, inward-turned “mysticism.” Especially as they began to enter emotionally into the events of the Passion, that horrific demonstration of God sharing in our embodied suffering, the compassion for Jesus that this stirred in them became “enabled them to perceive Jesus in other humans and to act compassionately for their benefit.” The resulting works of mercy helped build a strong, humane center holding together medieval society. Surely we need something like this again.

We have seen how attention to the humanity of Christ and his presence in others’ humanity encouraged hospitality and pastoral and even medical care, in Benedict’s and the Benedictines’ emphasis on “Christ in the guest,” in the particularity of the seven corporal (and spiritual) acts of mercy, in the specificity and concreteness of Aquinas’s ethical thought, and of course in the history of the innovative Christian institution we now call the hospital.

The Enemy of our souls will do anything he can to raise our eyes from the physical needs of others in a false super-spirituality, keeping us from achieving that incarnational awareness that would pour out from our hearts in compassionate ministry. As Screwtape tells the junior demon,

“On the seemingly pious ground that ‘praise and communion with God is the true prayer’, humans can often be lured into direct disobedience to the Enemy who (in His usual flat, commonplace, uninteresting way) has definitely told them to pray for their daily bread and the recovery of their sick. You will, of course, conceal from him the fact that the prayer for daily bread, interpreted in a ‘spiritual sense’, is really just as crudely petitionary as it is in any other sense.”[1]


[1] Screwtape Letters, letter 27, in Complete C. S. Lewis Signature Classics, 263-4.

Incarnation and the theological task


Medieval_ThinkerAnother in the series of “mini-posts” that wraps up my series from the draft of my forthcoming Medieval Wisdom: An Exploration with C S Lewis:

Theology

Renewed attention to the Incarnation can also renew our passion for theology. Focusing devotionally on the world-changing entry of God into his own creation in human form also focuses our minds on how amazing God’s interactions with the world and humanity are. Bringing alive our reason, which is part of the precious image of God in us, we will begin to thirst again for knowledge of this active, present God. Theology, after all, is not the study of God in isolation from the world or humanity in isolation from God – it is the study of the interactions between God and humanity. And the Incarnation is the flabbergasting fact in the middle of that.

The Incarnation as the medieval “theory of everything”


Henry Ford, preparing to say "History is bunk!" Ah, if only he'd taken the Incarnation into account . . .

Henry Ford, preparing to say “History is bunk!” Ah, if only he’d taken the Incarnation into account . . .

Well, tomorrow morning I head, early in the morning, to Baltimore for the Evangelical Theological Society meeting and then to England to attend the dedication of the “C S Lewis stone” in Poets Corner at Westminster Abbey. So today is the last “live” post from my book Medieval Wisdom: An Exploration with C S Lewis. 

From here on in, it’ll be one final series of pre-programmed, pre-scheduled mini-posts for a week that run through all the themes of the book and show how they were underwritten by the medievals’ focus on the Incarnation.

Thanks for reading – and in a year(ish) from now, roughly Winter 2015, keep your eyes peeled for the actual published book from Baker Academic.

The Incarnation underwrites every facet of the medievals’ faith we have studied in this book: their high valuation of tradition, their passion for theology, their detailed and intentional morality, their compassionate ministry to bodies as well as souls, their understanding of the sacramental quality of the created world, their investment of emotion into their devotion to the Lord, and their willingness to discipline their bodies in service of that same devotion.

What would happen if we recaptured these medieval values?

Tradition

By putting the “body” back into our understanding of Christ and his church, we would again see how fitting it is for us to study and value our own traditions. We would recapture the wisdom and truth in those traditions, while never separating this truth from the primary revelation of Scripture – as most medievals understood for most of the Middle Ages!

Tradition is nothing less than wisdom and truth passed down from generation to generation through history. How apt is this? Christianity is at its core not a list of timeless principles or abstract teachings. It is a uniquely a historical religion, based on a historical person and the words of two “Testaments” full of historical accounts.

Nineteenth-century liberal theologians liked to talk about the “essence of Christianity”—usually little more than “the Fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man”—that needed to be extricated from the centuries of errant doctrines and practices of a church that never seemed to get it right. (The problem with this approach, as a wit once observed, is that those nineteenth-century liberals, when they read Christian history, looked down the well of 19 centuries and saw their own faces at the bottom.) But there is no “essence” that is not clothed in history. Christianity is all about the Incarnation of God’s second person as a first-century Jew from Nazareth.

And naturally, then, the New Testament is, again, no philosophical book of abstract teachings, but rather a narrative of a life, a sacrifice, a resurrection—played out on the stage of history. And the Book of Acts and the Letters, following the model of the Old Testament’s “historic” books, just picks up the story from Easter. Tradition is the extension of the story beyond Acts – the continued faithful, often flawed attempt of the church to wrestle with its identity in Christ. When we in effect shout Henry Ford’s foolish jibe—“History is bunk!”—and throw aside the lessons of that history, we are cutting ourselves off at the knees spiritually, intellectually, practically.