As an old Political Science major from the 1960’s, I looked forward to reading this chapter since I thought I would be visiting with old friends. I enjoyed examining Aristotle’s concepts of general and particular justice with general justice dealing with the good of the community as a whole while particular justice dealing with ensuring that individuals get their share of the common good. This gave me hope that I might be done with this project before Law & Order started. Watching justice move into modernity and shifting from the common good to protecting the rights of the individual seemed to ring true when one thinks about our own Declaration of Independence: “….that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” Even the three modern versions of justice as expounded (p.184) by Kant (“universally applicable rules coupled with respect for the individual”), Mill and Bentham (“the greatest good for the greatest number”), and Locke and Rawls (social contract) were familiar enough to renew my hope to watch Jack McCoy fight for justice on Law & Order. Ok, maybe a procedural justice.

From the historical analysis of justice, the author moves into contemporary theological thought which for him “resembles secular philosophical accounts.” (p.185) more than it resembles the Word (p. 186). By adhereing to this concept of justice, we are caught in a tension between the rights of the individual and the good of the community. He seems to be saying what several other authors in our text have said: that the Church (theology) has been influenced by culture rather than the culture being influenced by the Church. So what is justice?

To answer this question the author turns to the A Team (Augustine, Anselm, and Aquinas) to focus on Jesus as the Justice of God. (Things are not looking good for Law & Order) The atonement of Jesus’ death was not in a judicial sense (to make up for our sins) but as Anselm says so that humanity might be restored so that we could fully partake in the divine life. In this way, His death becomes a gift to humanity with the sole purpose of full communion with God. Augustine chimes in with the notion that true justice is found in God alone; Aquinas says that the end of justice is charity which is “nothing less than true friendship with God.” (p.188). He goes on to say that justice is redeeming rather than enforcing and that this is predicated on peace. Salvation history reenforces this idea of justice as a gift, God continually offers communion with His people no matter how many times the people turn away. Restoration and renewal are the are continuous themes within Scripture.

Our response to this gift of justice takes place both at Baptism when we are first brought into communion with God and at the Eucharist where we experience the true end of justice which is communion with God. Eucharist is our opportunity to give God His due which is worship and praise. Another response to the gift of justice are the Works of Mercy (both corporal and spiritual) which are the “liturgical extension of the justice of God in the world.” (p. 193) It is by living the Works of Mercy that God’s gift of justice is incorporated into the world in order to bring all to communion with God.

Looking at justice in this way has given me cause for pause and reflection. Indeed, my old concepts of justice and rights need to be reviewed and tested in this new (for me) idea that true justice is a gift and not something to be achieved. Law & Order was preempted tonight for something better

Scott Bader-Saye’s desire in this chapter is to “reclaim the possibility of wise authority and joyful obedience through an examination of the Christian practices of speaking and listening” (157). He builds his case by pointing out that authority began getting a bad rap when Descartes ushered in Enlightenment with its reliance on individual reason and personal autonomy. External authority was linked with domination, obedience characterized as an inability to think for oneself. As exemplified by popular culture, personal freedom and choice became normative, obedience to authority a hapless tradition with fewer and fewer adherents. This swing of the pendulum made it harder for Christian communities to form and function. Bader-Saye points out that Israel had the same experience during the time it was ruled by judges. “All the people did what was right in their own eyes (Judges 21:25)” (159). The Israelites wanted to be like other nations, ruled by a king rather than an unseen God. The tension was whether the new king(s) would be transparent to God’s authority and Will or whether they would usurp God’s authority. Similarly, Jesus’ disciples were concerned about who among them would have the most authority when Jesus was gone. They did not understand that Jesus was modeling a new kind of authority, one based on service. Jesus would “die for the truth but would not kill for it”(160).

Bader-Saye hopes that by people listening to the liturgy, particularly the Scripture, sermon, and Creed, they will see that “the authority of the word does not seek to bind us but to free us.” Moreover, “freedom does not mean ‘doing what I want,” but “ being who I am” (161). This gets to the core of Christian ethics. “Only as we are willing to make our lives like Christ’s own will we be able to hear and understand the Word He speaks to us” (161). This is where obedience forms us. The liturgy demonstrates symbolically by having the priest read the Gospel from the center of the congregation that God is among us. This equality of presence redefines obedience from a dominance-submission paradigm to a mutuality of consent among equals. The sermon points away from the preacher to God’s message and authority, a witness to Christ crucified. The Creed and the silence following it allow believers to reaffirm their personal role in the “dispersal of [God’s} power and authority,” (163) a role hinging on obedience.

In further refining the idea of authority, Bader-Saye asserts that it is necessary not only in “deficiency, but in plenitude” (164). He sees communities functioning successfully when there is a sense of partnership between the leader and participants in a mutual endeavor. He cites Bishop Tutu as an exemplar of cruciform authority, authority designed not to punish but to heal. This “restorative justice” models what we should strive for as individuals and as Christian communities. Bader-Saye warns that Christians should not restrict their pursuit of God’s voice to their own community. “When the congregation is sent forth at the end of the service, it is sent into the world, not only to minister to the world but to listen to the world…” (168)

Bader-Saye’s comments about the framework of rejecting authority and obedience in favor of meeting personal goals and needs led me to think about what’s happening in today’s churches. We know that mainstream church membership has decreased dramatically during the past several decades, and the church has lost the central place it once had in Western culture. Many people do not believe in the Christian message, or in a faith tradition. Many of those who seek spirituality are looking for it in places other than churches, such as in personal experiences where they gain a sense of the transcendent. Ironically, the churches that are growing are those that are most authoritative about what belief and behavior is right and wrong, such as fundamentalist congregations, where the message and authority are clear. Perhaps this bespeaks the personal need for authority and direction that many people feel in this individual-centered culture. Mainstream churches may not be sharing the fullness of the Gospel message clearly enough or widely enough to reach those who are searching for it in other places. If the authority of a church is clearly transparent and cruciform, it should not be threatening, but inviting. For some, however, it may feel safer to turn one’s life over to God directly than to promise obedience to the institutional church.  

The objective of this chapter is clearly stated on page 142, “…to show how any accurate understanding of Christian ethics presupposes an appreciation of the ethos of Scripture reading and the form of life within which that reading unfolds.” Before we can appreciate how Scripture forms us, the author examines the manner in which we “read” Scriptures. Reading Scripture is not about how we might have read this chapter-- in a quiet place with pen and highlighter in hand and working our minds around his logic and the development of ideas. Rather for the author, reading Scripture is a public proclamation. As a public proclamation, it involves not only our minds but our hearts and lips as displayed when we make the Sign of the Cross on our forehead, lips and chest at the beginning of the Gospel reading during the Eucharist. Some one once said (don’t ask me who [Powell Mills Dawley]), “Good Liturgy is like good drama”---the words, the actions, the body language---have a significance that points to something other than just the words, actions, and body language. The author spends considerable time describing how we ascribe worth to Scripture in our Worship; processing while holding Scriptures aloft, incensing, where we read the various lessons and describing the historical development of The Liturgy of the Word as we know it today.

Equal space is given to what the Scripture does to us, how does it forms both the individual and the community. By constant public reading of Scripture we come to appreciate the rhythm, the cadence, the mood of Scripture. We need to look beyond the words of Scripture to discern the meaning, the idea the Biblical author(s) were trying to convey and then incorporate it into our own individual lives and the life of the ekklesia. In other words, we become the flesh of the Word and give the Word animation.

I really like what the author says about the constant interchange between the Word and the Eucharist: “Reading the Word is always also to ingest the Word; indeed, the intelligibility of Word and the intelligibility of the Eucharist are reciprocally dependent” (p. 152). In this way we are constantly re-formed, re-newed, re-identified, re-shaped, re-created, re-learned, re-stored (within the ekklesia) and re-defined in our minds, our hearts, and what comes from our lips.

Dell computer, writing this blog entry while sipping a Diet Coke, checking the word count tool graciously provided by Bill Gates’ Microsoft Word program (29 words so far), I am aware as I glance at my Seiko watch that tonight’s news program is about to start. I quickly move to my LazyBoy recliner, grab the remote to my GE television and turn on Channel 5 so I can watch the latest events brought to me by the folks at NBC. Tonight’s lead story about a North Korean train crash is brought to me courtesy of the folks at SBC Communications. To be honest, although I am sorry to hear about the tragedy in North Korea, I am much more interested in learning the result of last night’s game involving my hometown heroes, the Chicago Tribune Cubbies. Oh good- they won. Well, I guess I’ll get back to Michael Budde’s chapter on “Global Culture Industries.”

When’s the last time we separated ourselves from culture? As I honestly think about that question, I realize that Budde’s statement on page 125 is quite an indictment. He writes, “To the extent that culture industry formation succeeds, Christian formation fails.” According to Budde, commercial “orchestrators of attention” are winning a contest that church leaders scarcely recognize is underway. As such, Budde suggests that we take a serious look at the context in which the church interacts with global culture. His solution is to take a serious look at “forming Christian communities capable of discernment and selectivity”(p.128). By paying greater attention to how Christians are formed, and how these processes of formation are affected by the formative power of capitalist culture industries, we may be better able to recognize ways in which to improve our Christian discipleship.

As Budde began to talk about early church practices, I started to contemplate how early desert monastic communities were formed. If the voice of AKMA in my head is correct, they developed as a result of dissatisfaction with the popular Constantinian culture of that time. To a certain extent, that is what Budde seems to be proposing as a solution to this global culture crisis. He suggests that if Christians were to invest the time spent interacting with the global culture industry in other more fruitful activities, a whole new world of possibilities might develop (p.131). He criticizes as naive the thought that we can use the tools of the global culture industry as we attempt to grow our church (p.132). He is also critical of our view of worship as a “once a week” activity. In essence, Budde suggests that we use our worship as an alternative liturgy to that performed by the global culture industry. To do so will require us to break free of our current cultural paradigms, and will force us to truly view our worship as how we “ascribe worth” in our lives.

I find myself agreeing with Budde. I am looking forward to heading into the cultural desert. I have only one question. Will my cell have wireless access?