Prodigal Kiwi(s) Blog

James K.A. Smith - Nothing Outside the Text? Taking Derrida to Church

Paul writes – some of you will have had the good fortune to read James KA. Smith’s excellent little book, Who's Afraid of Postmodernism?: Taking Derrida, Lyotard, and Foucault to Church (the first in a series of great little books published by Baker addressing questions of the Church and postmodern culture – more on this series, here).

For those who haven’t read the book, here’s a good introduction, a paper by James K. A. Smith, which forms (in large measure) one chapter of the book. You can read the whole paper here, and will find an excerpt below:

“…Derrida's claim that there is nothing outside the text was often misunderstood, and not just by Christian theologians. Later, when presented with the opportunity, Derrida tried to clarify his claim: " The phrase that for some has become a sort of slogan of deconstruction, in general so badly understood ('there is nothing outside the text’), means nothing other than: there is nothing outside context." In a way, Derrida is repeating the axiom of real estate as a central condition of  interpretation: location, location, location! The context of both the phenomenon (whether a book, a cup, or an event) and the interpreter function as conditions or frameworks that determine just how a thing is seen or understood. Just as he claims that there is nothing outside the text, elsewhere Derrida claims that "there are only contexts." Context, then, determines the meaning of a text, the construal of a thing, or the "reading" of an event.

Derrida's claim that there is nothing outside the text means roughly that everything is interpretation; interpretation is governed by context and the role of the interpretive community.

First, if one of the crucial insights of postmodernism is that everyone comes to his or her experience of the world with an interpretive framework and a set of ultimate presuppositions, then Christians should not be afraid to lay their specifically Christian presuppositions on the table and allow their account to be tested in the marketplace of ideas. Second, and more constructively, this should push us to ask ourselves whether the biblical text is what truly governs our seeing of the world. If all the world is a text to be interpreted, then for the church the narrative of the Scriptures is what should govern our very perception of the world.

We should see the world through the Word. In this sense, then, Derrida's claim could be resonant with the Reformers claim of sola scriptura, which simply emphasizes the priority of God's special revelation for our understanding of the world and making our way in it. There is nothing outside the Text, we might say. And to say that there is nothing outside the Text, then, is to emphasize that there is not a single square inch of our experience of the world that should not be governed by the revelation of God in the Scriptures. To say that there is nothing outside the Text is to say that there is no aspect of creation to which God's revelation does not speak. But do we really let the Text govern our seeing of the world? Or have we become more captivated by the stories and texts of a consumerist culture?…”

The holy texts are full of holes

Paul writes – Imagine if we read Scripture in the following way; allowing space…space to listen, space to sit with Scripture; space within which we are formed and shaped. Space within which we encounter Jesus, Jesus most mysteriously and profoundly God incarnate. 

Imagine if Scripture was filled with “holes” and that these holes make space for God and a hermeneutic of surprise. Imagine if these holes stop us from holding to tightly to what we presently understand as ‘truth’? Holes speak to me of the apophatic tradition and I for one appreciate that our holy texts are full of holy and needful holes, though I can’t explain it. Somehow they enable a way of reading that is animated and open to a hermeneutic of love, spaciousness, warmth, generosity and graciousness: 

Imagine the kinds of conversations holes (or “gaps”) make space for… We live in “gaps” between our present realities and what might be – the already-and-the-not-yet.

“The holy texts are full of holes, holes waiting for informed and imaginative readers to fill them in, to make present what is absent, that being some other part of the interacting canon. Vast portions of the Bible are mnemonic triggers, set to create intertextual exchanges.” Dale Alison via a comment on Len Hjalmarson’s blog]

I’m thinking here (again) also of Jeffrey McCurry’s paper, Towards a Poetics of Theological Creativity. More on this here and here. Holes make spaces for “Inflected Interpreted Performances.” Holes or gaps are also the places in which we find ourselves as we engage with Scripture – we’re in an “in-between” place – between the (less-than-ideal) realities of our own lives, and the “not-yetness” of the hope and promises held out to us in Scripture and centered on Jesus. “Holes” in Scripture are liminal spaces, in-between spaces for prayer, the contemplative, and the slow work of formation and transformation. May we be less 'certain' and more willing to sit in holes...

Discernment and the Examen – Part 1 of 3

Paul writes – One of the core practices I would include in a community rule or covenant (for a recent example of one – see this one by Len Hjalmarson and others up in British Columbia) or, for a "rhythm (of life)" – see, for example this one created by MOOT) is listening / discernment.

Esther de Waal reminds us that “we are essentially rhythmic creatures and [our lives] need …rhythm and balance if [they are not to be drained of] the precious possibility of being or becoming our whole selves.” “Unless we take this [need] seriously” she says, “we are going to reduce the amount of ourselves that is actually there and available to us” (from Seeking God, p. 93).   

In terms of a personal rule or rhythm of life I would express it in terms of the Ignatian Examen of Consciousness (learning to recognise the movements of God in the ordinary and the everyday stuff of my life and context) and the Benedictine Lectio Divina (allowing myself to be shaped by Scripture). In contextual terms it could be, for example, the practice of walking or the practice of regularly sitting in the same coffee shop. As we listen we are attuning ourselves to God, to God’s promptings, and to God’s invitations. Discernment allows me / us to grow in true self-knowledge and availability to God.

The groundwork for discernment is attentive and sensitive listening; listening to and through the many layers that make up a narrative or a story – the narrative of a person – their telling of their story; the narrative of a place – its past, its present and the hopes for the future. Joan Chittister says, “to live without listening is not to live at all.” In fact, as many of you will know, the first work of the prologue to Benedict's Rule is "LISTEN".

Why discernment? Well, at its heart, and this is why I see it as critical to a rhythm of life, is the growing ability to both respond to God, and to be drawn by God. To find God in all things. Discernment is a practice that places God and relationship with God at the centre. Discernment is an intentional practice that prioriterises “waiting” – an important counter-practice in the face of our love of instant gratification. We wait on God, humbly accepting either the presence or absence – open to any way God chooses to beckon and invite us. To make space for listening and discernment is to put ourselves in a place where God, who is seeking us, can find us.

“The Examen is as much about a more intimate knowledge of self and God and about the growing and deepening relationship between the two as about any particular choice. What God is waiting for is not so much the right conclusion [to] a practical question as our suppleness in falling into the divine hands so that God can work in us” (John Climacus, The Ladder of Divine Ascent). 

The Presence of the Kingdom

Paul writes – As I was reading from Maggi’s book last advent (p.77. She was talking about Jesus not being recognised and drawing on an Elijah story) my mind drifted away to think about the (all-to-easy) human tendency to not seeing the quiet activity of God around us – the nearness of the Kingdom (cf. Lk 10:1-12). It’s too easy to miss it, to not notice it in either our/my haste (in part our/my need to be “productive”); or as the result of my/our own large dreams and plans for church, God, and mission.

Maggi talks about the “messianic expectation” (woven, for example, into John 1:6-8: 19-28). She writes: “what are you hoping for, waiting for, expecting, anticipating – it’s already here. But you can’t see it.” She says that the “already-but-not-yet of the kingdom is perfectly summed up” in the Johanine passage above. “The person they were hoping for was on their doorstep [think here of Luke 10: 8-9 and the way Eugene Peterson says something very similar]. Christ himself was living right there among them, yet they didn’t recognise him.”

Maggi helpfully wonders if, “Perhaps… the hope we invest in Jesus [or, for example, in “mission” revitalizing our church(s) and re-engaging us in the gospel and culture conversation] can take a shape in our minds that stops us from noticing” what’s right in front of our eyes; what’s already present.

The challenges are thus around seeing, listening, being touched by, tasting and smelling the activity of God-in-Christ Jesus in the present moment. It seems to me, as with (genuine) listening (not just hearing), that we’re asked “let go” of our own agenda’s and plans. To let go of the need to insert our /my own voice and story; to have on the ‘tip of our tongues’ the next thing we want to say – all of which hinders our ability to really listen and to really see.   

Scripture and Tradition – Some Jewish Insight

Paul writes – My US friend Chris Erdman directed me to an episode of Speaking of Faith that I’d missed last year. Chris describes it as:” a remarkable interview with a remarkable young rabbi… She witnesses to a real love for the text, a restlessness with trite answers, a demand to challenge the tradition while living fully and appreciatively within it.  Much here about how Christians ought to encounter our tradition even while to press for an emergence from hidebound ways…”

Here’s the blurb on the show:

“[Krista Tippett and her guest Rabbi Sharon Brous] delve into the world and meaning of the Jewish High Holy Days — ten days that span the new year of Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur's rituals of atonement. [Sharon Brous] is one voice in a Jewish spiritual renaissance that is taking many forms across the U.S. The vast majority of her congregation are people in their 20s and 30s, who, she says, are making life-giving connections between ritual, personal transformation, and relevance in the world.”

I was particularly struck by the following excerpt:

“…Our rabbis acknowledge that the way to transformation of the world starts, it starts with the self, it's through the self. And so we have to, not only not disregard, but be truly attentive and sincerely attentive to really accounting for what's happening in our own personal lives first…”

And, this in relation to Scripture and Tradition

Ms. Tippett: You know; I have to say that, while I'm listening to your talk …I think about … the richness of Jewish tradition … the whole historic tradition … of the Talmud, of conversation across generations, of midrash and … of, making the story your own in every new generation.

… The way you're reading [the] story of the relationship … between Isaac and Ishmael [Brous had referred to this earlier in the conversation]  is going to be different in the 21st century than a rabbi would have been reading it 50 years ago or, say, 60 years ago in the middle of … the Holocaust and World War II. I mean; it does speak to our dynamics in a completely new way, doesn't it?

Ms. Brous: … That’s what I think the rabbis meant when they said that the Torah was given down in fire, meaning on Mount Sinai. The mountain was on fire when the Torah came down. And in Torah, it has to be transmitted. And if we don't find some way to make this religious experience about more than just the memory of something that once touched our great-great-grandparents… 

Fullness of Truth?

Paul writes – The following quote, sent to me by a friend has become increasing true to my experience over the years as I have (especially) listened to and engaged perspectives, diverse and different from my own. I’ve moved from “black & white”, “right & wrong” to a position of holding more lightly to my own perspectives. I have them, I bring them into conversation when I’m invited too, but I’m less willing too dogmatically hold to “one” perspective over and against that of the “other” and other perspectives. This doesn’t mean I’m “wishy-washy” or don’t believe anything; I think it derives from wisdom gained over the course of a journey; I think it also honors and makes room for the place of mystery; and it honors provisional nature of ‘truth’ and the realities of there always being more depth and more than one perspective from which this ‘truth’ might be approached. Finally I think it makes room for a BIG God – a God who always surprises and invites us to become deeper and more spaciousness. At any moment I see and understand only in part. For a related post, see this recent one from Malcolm Chamberlain.

Here’s the quote:

"The fullness of truth seldom resides in one point of view and therefore we need to hold ourselves open to the possibility that our own perspectives will be enlarged by those of others with whom we may disagree."

[Former Episcopal] Presiding Bishop Frank T. Griswold

Episcopalian priest and author Cynthia Bourgeault has a lovely way of saying what lies at the heart of this post (as I don’t think I’ve been particularly clear):

“…The truth doesn’t have to be defended; it only has to be lived…”

So, “Truth” in Christ is embodied – it has to be lived faithfully over time. Embodying truth takes time. For example, have a think about Jesus’ story of God’s judgment – people being separated to the left and right on the basis of what…? Doctrine’s held? One’s signature on a “statement of belief”? The ways in which one has faithfully contended for the truth over and against what we might want to describe as ‘false’ belief? No!

Here’s Jesus’ telling of the story, which I referred to above:

“Where is God when the Bible goes “out of print”?”

Paul writes – I thought of Winnie the Pooh and particularly Piglet – specifically, the movie, Piglet’s Big Movie (see this post) – as I followed a link from Bill Kinnon’s blog (the infamous, yet very likable creator of “Missional Shampoo”) to the website dedicated to John Frye’s new novel - Out of Print. It’s a novel (I read) that ignites the imagination [when] the Bible, as we know it is no longer available.

As John’s book website asks: “Where is God when the Bible goes “out of print”?” I wonder? It’s a great question, particularly given the importance of the Bible in the shoring up ones “defenses” in some churches against the ‘enemy’.

Have you seen Bruce Lee’s movie Enter the Dragon? I think of an early scene in that movie. Lee is talking to a student (philisophically) about the difference between his "finger" and the "moon" to which the finger points.

Reworking Lee's conversation, and the point he's wanting to make, we could say that the Bible is represented by the pointing finger and God is represented by the moon. Instead of the Bible being the finger that points to God, the bible becomes the end unto itself and the “point” of the Bible is missed – God. Didn’t Jesus say something about searching and obsessing over the scriptures, so much so, that “he”, toward whom they point –Jesus – is missed...? 

Having the Bible go “out of print” raises all kind of questions (and for some, fears!). Questions; not necessarily ones I’d ask, could include: “How then is the Church to be the Church when the Bible goes “out of print”?” How do we know what local churches represent? What they’re meant to be and do? Or, “How might we know who’s “in” and who’s “out” when the Bible goes “out of print?” Or, “How do we nourish and grow disciples when the Bible goes “out of print”?”

How do we know what “truth” is when the Bible goes “out of print”? How would we live into and out of the Biblical narrative if the Bible went out of print...?

Reading the Bible – William Stringfellow.

Paul writes – While the suggestion that we “study the Bible together” is one that can arise from a genuine desire to live more deeply into and out of the Biblical narrative; it can also be “code” for an engagement with scripture that extends a cause or an agenda, i.e. my choice of text read through my inflexible interpretative assumptions, my biases and my blind-spots, in order to reinforce my position relative to what (I believe) the Bible says. There is nothing in this approach that puts me in a place of vulnerability before the Biblical text, because I’ve already predetermined what I consider its unchangeable meaning (for others).

However, too genuinely engage in Bible study with others is to do so, open to the possibility of my being read by Scripture. It is to be open to hearing afresh what the Spirit might be discerned as saying or directing.

It was against this backdrop that I was interested in a small (blog) piece written by Greg Jones – William Stringfellow Reads the Bible. I’m a huge admirer of Stringfellow (d. 1985) and found Greg’s reflection reinforcing of that admiration. He writes:

“…Stringfellow tells a funny story to illustrate how far the elephant of biblical indifference had gone into the Episcopal Church:

[In the early 1960's I served] on a commission of the Episcopal Church charged with articulating the scope of the total ministry of the Church in modern society. The commission numbered about forty persons, a few laity and the rest professional theologians, ecclesiastical authorities and clergy. The group met, in the course of a year and a half, three times for sessions of more than a week. The first conference, as I recall it, floundered in churchy shoptalk that anyone outside the Church would find exasperatingly irrelevant, largely incoherent or simply dull [sound familiar]

Doing Anglican Theology

Paul writes – I’ve found useful a recent paper by John Corrie – Doing Anglican Theology. John Corrie “is Lecturer in Mission Studies in Trinity College Bristol. As an ordained minister he served for nine years in two parishes in Kendal and Nottingham before leaving with his wife and family for Peru where he served for five years as a Chaplain for the English-speaking church in Lima. On his return he taught theology of mission, ethics, ecclesiology and Latin American Studies at All Nations Christian College for eleven years and was their MA Course Director. He moved to Birmingham to lead a Centre for Anglican Communion Studies, after which he worked for the Archbishop of Canterbury [Rowan Williams] until April this year. His commitment is to work for the integration of missiology and theology, and he writes and speaks about the holistic mission of the Church as a sign and instrument of the Kingdom.” [A commitment that I share - Paul].

In part, John writes:

“If all theological interpretations, doctrines and liturgies are provisional, this makes them creative exercises, since the three kinds of relationship outlined above are dynamic and open in their outcomes. Any attempt to fossilise a doctrine, sanctify an interpretation or idolise a liturgy only condemns them to an irrelevance, which is a kind of death, an absence of life. There is even a danger of a bibliolatry, which so reverences the text itself as to close off debate and to make any tradition of interpretation irrelevant…

The only single immoveable point of faith and unchanging absolute is God Himself, to whom Scripture itself bears witness. Scripture is true because it reflects truth about God, and although the Canon is a final and definitive witness, its truth is in what it says about God. God speaks to us through its words, and he breathes into those words truth about himself. That truth has to be comprehended and received so that we might know God. So Scripture is not an end in itself. It must not be worshipped for itself, since only God himself should receive our worship and be glorified. But also Scripture is not self-evidently true - first it requires the Holy Spirit to lead us into its truth, second it requires faith to bring its truth alive to us, and third it requires reason to help us apply our minds to understand it. In discussing Richard Hooker, Rowan Williams comments: "...knowing is ineradicably a matter of contingent, conversational, perspectival and narrative development." [Rowan Williams, Anglican Identities, p. 44].

You can read John’s paper here (PDF). Web page with hyperlinks here. 

Kevin Vanhoozer Interviewed.

 

Paul writes – Jordon Cooper directed me to an interesting interview with US systematic theologian, Kevin Vanhoozer. I haven’t had a lot of time to read Vanhoozer at length or to any real depth (that might be why I didn’t understand his response to the last question asked of him), but what I have read I’ve appreciated. Like Vanhoozer my early days as a follower of Jesus were taken up reading Warfield, Hodge, Murray, Machen, the English Puritans, Jonathan Edwards and others from the Reformed tradition.

Here’s an excerpt from one of Vanhoozer’s replies. I wonder if it’s that black and white. What do you think? Certainly I’ve experienced a church ‘led’ by managers. I’m not a member of that church any longer.

“The world is filled with therapists and managers. What the church needs now is people who can (1) articulate from the Bible the truth about God, the world, and ourselves in terms that are faithful to the Bible and intelligible in the contemporary context (2) exhort their congregations to say and do things that corresponds to the truth of Jesus Christ as attested in the Bible.”

You can read the whole interview here.