The Problem With Humans

John Milbank argues that Kant’s ethic, in practice, is not a restatement of the Golden Rule. The ethic of Jesus is much more than the law of simple reciprocity—where one acts in order to be acted upon in a certain way:

Reciprocity is summed up in the golden rule, and…is re-formulated by Kant. However, reciprocal friendship in the Middle Ages involved much more than this. Agreement in the good, upon which friendship was based, did not mean merely respect for the dignity of each other’s freedom. Instead it meant an orientation to a finally unknown, transcendent good, that was nonetheless ceaselessly and newly mediated through concrete historical circumstances (John Milbank, “The Soul of Reciprocity,” Modern Theology 17:3 (2001): 343).

This appears to be the key aspect of the Golden Rule which Kant failed to account for. While Kant aims to establish universality, he wants to do so without what might be termed an incarnate transcendence. In other words, the Golden Rule is a universal law; but it is also what E.W. Hirst called an intra-personal law which it expressed in the mutual fulfillment and sacrifice of desires among people. Kant’s kingdom of ends existed in objective rationality. Milbank contrasts this to the medievals:

In Thomas Aquinas, for example, one will find—shockingly, perhaps to us—not a word which construes charity as the neutral altruistic love for the remote, but much about a hierarchical, preferential exercise of charity according to specific relations and affinities….there is no indifference to the remote or alien involved here, since within the ecclesia the remote for us is close to the warmth of charity for others, and all are close to God.

For moderns like Kant, the hierarchies and external obligations imposed by medieval society appeared entirely too subjective—one might even say, too earthy. Continue reading…

Soulless Economics

Two (extended) parallel quotes on what classic economics leaves out of the equation:

Classical economics began when Adam Smith, trying to explain what he called “division of labor” using production and exchange alone, chopped the four scholastic elements to two: dropping Augustine’s theory of utility (which describes consumption) and replacing both Augustine’s theory of personal distribution and Aristotle’s theory of social distribution with the mere assumption that everyone is motivated by self-love. This is how classical economics began with only two elements. — John Mueller, “The Preacher as Economist vs. “The Economist as Preacher.”

As Augustine saw, in the absence of any substantive ends, what triumphs is the sheer lust for power. The one and only end is profit, the aggrandizement of the corporation–in short, naked power…. Once we admit that freedom defined strictly negatively is inadequat, we are pushing ourselves toward the recognition that Augustine was right; to speak of freedom in any realistic and full sense is necessarily to engage the question of the true ends of human life. Yet such ends are precisely what free market advocates would banish from the definition of the free market. To enter into judgments about the freedom of particular exchanges , we must abondon [Milton] Friedman’s definition of a free market, and we must also abondon any claim for the goodness of “the free market” as such. There is no point to claiming that “capitalism produces freedom” unless one wants to claim that “any economic exchange that produces freedom is capitalism,” in which case one has simply uttered a tautology. The key point is that the freedom of each economic exchange is subject to judgment based on a positive account of freedom, which must take into account the good ends of human life. — William Cavanaugh, Being Consumed (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2008), 22, 25-26.

Another Dualism

Peter Leithart posted today with a reimagining of law and gospel sparked by Douglas Knight:

A strict distinction between law and gospel is offered as a prophylactic against works-righteousness. If it is admitted that law is gospel in any sense, all is lost.

But this view assumes the very same view of law that it contests. A proponent of works righteousness sees the law as demands that need to be kept, and the end of the law is simply its keeping. The proponent of law/gospel segregation has the same view of law.

Both detach law from its purpose, which, as Knight argues, is eschatological. Law exists to correct, instruct, lead to maturity. And to that extent, law is always intended as, and in practice often is, good news.

The political implications of this run parallel.  If the civil realm, like the “law,” fills an eschatological role, it doesn’t have to be the antithesis of the spiritual realm. It can serve as the taskmaster to lead us to the beginning and end of all things: Jesus. Paul says in Galatians 3:21, “Is the law then contrary to the promises of God? Certainly not! For if a law had been given that could give life, then righteousness would indeed be by the law.” The law, therefore, was not meant to give life in itself, but rather to point to the faith of Jesus, our true salvation. But further, abiding by the law directs us toward Christ. The law, and by extension the civil realm, was “sent by [God] to punish those who do evil and to praise those who do good,” (pre-)schooling us in the ways of grace.

In this sense, like Wyclif, we can talk of an evangelical law, a law which serves its Christocentric purpose (and which, when rightly centered, gives over all authority to its Master).

The Gospel of Classical Economics

Douglas Knight draws our attention to a very interesting read: The Preacher as Economist vs. “The Economist as Preacher,” by John Mueller.  I’d like to interact it with more over the next few days, particularly Mueller’s proposal for a neo-scholastic, distributionist economic theory.

…Having rejected his Christian baptism well before writing the Wealth of Nations, Smith was a wholehearted convert to the ancient Stoic philosophy–and Stoics are pantheists.

There are two ways in which the providence of Stoic pantheism differs from the biblically orthodox version of Augustine and Aquinas. First, the Stoic god is not a creator, but the world-soul of an eternal and uncreated universe that goes through endless identical cycles of expansion and contraction.  Second, it necessarily follows that humans are not creatures endowed with free will, but rather appendages of God fated to do everything they do, good or bad. According to Augustine’s more logically consistent theory of providence, the order in markets and society comes entirely from the virtue (itself a kind of order) that remains even in bad people as long as they exist.
[...]
Smith fails to grapple with the fact that charitable behavior simply does not fit into a theory that reduces all human transactions to exchange and self-love. He never explains why customers never expect their dinner from the butcher’s beneficence, yet his friends occasionally and his children always expect it.

Labor Wars: Costco v. Walmart

Slate covers the different approaches that two mammoth retailers take toward their workforce:

Nearly everyone who’s looked at Wal-Mart’s practices as an employer—its union busting, sex discrimination, low wages, and minimal benefits—has concluded that it’s America’s retail bad guy. By contrast, many who’ve examined the practices of Wal-Mart’s competitor Costco—including New York Times labor reporter Steven Greenhouse in his recent book The Big Squeeze: Tough Times for the American Worker—conclude that it’s the good guy. Costco CEO and founder Jim Sinegal repeatedly insists to Greenhouse that treating employees well is “good business.”

The Scottish “Heresy”

Steven Wedgeworth posts a passage from the 16th century Scottish theologian, Robert Rollock, on “temporary” faith:

The reason of the name is this; it is called Temporary, because it endures but for a time, because it hath no root.

It hath the same object with justifying faith, and which is properly so called, namely Jesus Christ with his benefits, offered in the word of the Gospel and in the Sacraments; wherein it differs from historical faith, which hath for the object thereof the universal truth. It hath the same subject with justifying faith; for it hath its meat both in the mind, and also in the will and heart… [read the entire passage]

Update: Added ironic quote marks.

Augustine’s False Heir

In the recent issue of Ars Disputandi, Maarten Wisse reviews Deconstructing Radical Orthodoxy, edited by Wayne Hankey and Douglas Hedley. Aside from addressing the pros and cons of Milbank, Pickstock & Co.’s interpretations of Plato and Augustine, et al, Wisse has some interesting comments on RO’s appropriation of Augustine’s political theology:

Rather than being arbitrary, private and associated with violence, Augustine has a positive concept of law as it is connected with the good. Thus, it is not only the heavenly city that provides some good, but the earthly city turns out to have its own rules, rendering the relationship between the two cities dierent from Radical Orthodoxy’s construal of them. The upshot of Breyfogle’s argument, and I agree with it, is that Radical Orthodoxy is much less Augustinian than it suggests, as in many respects, it takes its clues from modernity rather than Augustine.

This little aside has a lot to say. If Wisse is right, then Augustine is able to reinforce the RO idea of the State of a parody of the Church. And yet–Augustine also put the State forward as a parallel (legitimate?) City. If the State has its own (temporal) end, then is it possible that, if rightly ordered, it can temporally serve a “good”?

Parodies

The Hillbilly Thomist posts a brief review of Oliver O’Donovan’s take on community and Augustine.

But on another level this definition does reflect the State. A State, most certainly a non-Christian one, can never be a true society. It has fragmented ends and disordered goals. It can never be unified. It can never meet Augustine’s definition of a true society because a true society is *truly* united by proper Love, love to God. Only a Christian society (be it church or commonweal) can be a true society.

Which of course raises the question: is there a qualitative difference between the State and a Christian commonweal?

Quasi-semi-pseudo Heresy

My old denomination calls down judgment on… something resembling the Federal Vision or the New Perspective or [fill in your choice of heresy d'jour].

1. That Synod DECLARE that we stand in solidarity with our Reformed and Presbyterian brethren in rejecting as contrary to the Scriptures as summarized by our confessional standards the theological views that are generally associated with the movements identified as “the New Perspective(s) on Paul” and the “Federal Vision.”

2. That Synod REAFFIRM our commitment to the biblical, historical, and confessional, Reformed doctrine of justification– sola gratia, sola fide, solus Christus– which requires the imputation of the active obedience of Jesus Christ as an essential component of that righteousness which is the ground of our justification and is received by faith alone.

3. That Synod RECOMMEND to our ministers and members the study of the reports of the PCA, OPC, RCUS and Mid-America Reformed Seminary.

4. That Synod REQUEST our Sessions, Presbyteries, and other examination boards to be diligent in their examinations of potential office holders as to the critical areas of theology that are associated with the new views.

Doug Wilson comments on the strangely imprecise condemnation. “Generally associated”?

The fourth recommendation is also a little suspect for a couple reasons. Those familiar with the RPCNA will know that 1) the denomination is not exactly a hot-bed of craven Romish/Wrightish sympathizers, and 2) the outcome of this report has been known for at least two years. And further, if we imagine a hypothetical scenario in which a Doug Wilson clone is examined for ordination, this recommendation doesn’t specify explicitly whether he should be turned away. Seems to lack the courage of its convictions. If a certain hermeneutic or dogma disqualifies a candidate for ordination, shouldn’t a report like this come right out and say it?

And, honestly, I really think these reports (now issued by most every conservative Reformed denomination) really miss what’s actually happening. At its best, FV is an attempt to reach back (historically) and out (ecumenically), beyond a certain 19th century Presbyterian tradition. Turns out Calvinists actually can critically profit from an Anglican, or an Arminian, or a Catholic, etc. I fail to see how appreciating other traditions disqualifies me from still professing my own theological narrative.

Update: Bill Chellis at De Regno Christi wonders aloud about the implications of the report.

Jeremiads

Stanley Hauerwas doing his thing:

I assume most of you are here because you think you are Christians, but it is not all clear to me that the Christianity that has made you Christians is Christianity. For example:

How many of you worship in a church with an American flag? I am sorry to tell you that your salvation is in doubt.

How many of you worship in a church in which the fourth of July is celebrated? I am sorry to tell you that your salvation is in doubt.

How many of you worship in a church that recognizes Thanksgiving? I am sorry to tell you that your salvation is in doubt.

How many of you worship in a church that celebrates January 1 as the “New Year”? I am sorry to tell you that your salvation is in doubt.

How many of you worship in a church that recognizes “Mother’s Day”?  I am sorry to tell you that your salvation is in doubt.

—“Why Did Jesus Have to Die?: An Attempt to Cross the Barrier of Age,” in The Princeton Seminary Bulletin, Vol. 28 No. 2 (2007), 182.

Later in the same article, Hauerwas pokes a second finger in the reader’s eye, explaining “why love is not the answer.” Beautiful. Even if you end up arriving at a different conclusion than Hauerwas, you have to credit his ability to make you question your unexamined beliefs.

New Resource Page

Added a handful of John Milbank articles and interviews.

Hauerwasianism

Some quotes and notes from Stanley Hauerwas’ article on Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s political theology (“Dietrich Bonhoeffer,” in The Blackwell Companion to Political Theology, eds. Peter Scott, William T. Cavanaugh, 136-149):

After Constantine it took exceptional courage not to be counted as a Christian. This development, according to Yoder, called forth a new doctrinal development, “namely the doctrine of the invisibility of the church.” Before Constantine, one knew as a fact of everyday experience that there was a church, but one had to have faith that God was governing history. After Constantine, people assumed as a fact that God was governing history through the emperor, but one had to take it on faith that within the nominally Christian mass there was a community of true believers. No longer could being a Christian be identified with church membership, since many “Christians” in the church clearly had not chosen to follow Christ. Now to be a Christian is transmuted to “inwardness” (p. 139).

Yoder and Hauerwas may indeed be correct in pointing out the post-Constantinian shift toward inwardness (although I can’t see the historical paradigm being quite that clear-cut). But granting their point for the moment, do we need to assume that the success of the Church will necessitate its invisibility? In other words, if the Church someday expands so that its witness is near ubiquitous (Jer. 31:31-34), will it lose any impetus to establish external boundaries? Historically, of course, there are examples of just this kind of ecclesial invisibility, e.g. the Danish “Christendom” so hated by Kierkegaard. But is that always the case?

It seems that the expansion of Christian community has to entail one of two developments: 1) the invisibility and compromise of the Church, as Yoder argues; but also, 2) a mature response of increased ecclesial vigilance and discipline. If an individual congregation experiences drastic growth due to the blessing of God, it will naturally encounter new sorts of challenges that accompany such growth. But, if God so graces them, isn’t it possible that a mature leadership would be able to maintain a firm and gracious oversight over the congregation, disciplining where necessary and employing the increased wealth to minister to those in need? If your eschatology allows for such a scenario…

Hauerwas then quotes Bonhoeffer on the visibility issue:

[The Church] has to make itself distinct and to be a community which hears the Apocalypse. It has to testify to its alien nature and to resist the false principle of inner-worldliness. Friendship between the church and the world is not normal, but abnormal. The community must suffer like Christ, without wonderment. The cross stands visibly over the community (p. 140).

The connection between the visibility of the Church and its calling to suffer rings true (and stands as a kind of judgment against a compromised, invisible Church which has vacated the naked public square). And yet… by introducing the paradigm of the cross (as Oliver O’Donovan has suggested), doesn’t Bonhoeffer inadvertently called to mind the accompanying paradigm: the resurrection? And—to play unfairly—isn’t the resurrection about as bodily and visible as you can get? A Church that faithfully suffers for Christ in the shadow of the cross must also live in faith for the resurrection (1 Cor. 15).