Is The Thickness of Two Short Planks A Forgotten Divine Attribute?
None
of the systematic theologies I own include `being as thick as two short
planks' in their treatments of the divine attributes; but it appears
that there is a trend today to rectify this neglected aspect of God's
being. Bear with me while I explain.
I
remember while at Cambridge in the mid-80s, a cartoon appeared in the
university student newspaper depicting weirdy-beardy students from the
Sidgwick Site (the home of the Arts faculties), with the caption `The
world is text; we move from sign to sign.' The point was twofold:
first, to poke fun at the pretentious jargon of those for whom every
other word was `semiotic' or one of its cognates. Such were apparently
spending their time at college in an effort to learn how to state the
obvious using language that completely obscured pretty simple ideas,
and to do so in tones such that even the most banal statement might
sound like a profound and ground-breaking insight. Most have,
presumably, gone on either to teach in university Arts faculties, where
their inability to communicate would be considered a strength and not a
weakness; or to write those easy-to-follow manuals for IKEA flatpack
furniture and eastern European digital cameras.
The
second point of the cartoon was to ridicule the notion that life could
be reduced to language, a very trendy position at the time and one
which is taking a terribly long time to die. Without going in to the
ins and outs of the theory, I have often wondered, for example, exactly
how helpful it is to think of the Holocaust as `text' or a `linguistic
construct.' It may be we need words to talk and write about such a
thing; but instinct seems to indicate that there has to be more to it
than that.
Words are interesting and powerful,
no-one denies that. And one of the ways in which this is made clear is
the way in which there are so many struggles about words and how they
are used. Indeed, `political correctness' is, if nothing else, a
movement about language: the disabled become `differently abled';
various racial epithets are outlawed, if not by the state then at least
by the bounds of acceptable taste and convention; and, indeed, in
striking a blow for that despised group, the middle aged male bald guy,
I might suggest we replace `baldy', `chrome dome', `Mekon' (hey, that
last one will test your knowledge of post-War British pop culture) and
`helmet head' with `follicly challenged', `alternatively thatched', and
the increasingly popular self-designation `Mature, intelligent male
with youthful outlook and GSOH seeks lady (20-25) for friendship and
perhaps more.'
There is, however, another
aspect to the changing of language which is driven not so much by a
desire to avoid hurting others but rather by the attempt to hide the
full horror of certain situations. We are all aware of how this can
be done. Sometimes it is done with reference to things that are not
necessarily evil but which are not exactly good news: to close a
loss-making factory might be `to rationalize resources;' to put a sick
dog out of its misery might be `to put it to sleep.' Other times it
can be clearly utilized to blunt or even invert the moral dimensions of
an action: to argue for abortion is to be `pro-choice;' to kill off the
elderly and the infirm is `euthanasia' or `mercy killing' or `death
with dignity' (however one dies, I suspect the departure of life from a
body can never be dignified, just more or less awful).
Well,
so much for the way in which language has been used in general public
discourse; what is really worrying is that some of this spin is now
firmly established within the church. Two recent examples come to
mind. First, there is the notorious case of Ergun Caner, of Liberty
Theological Seminary. Caner allegedly invented whole swathes of his
past in order to enhance his public profile and career. Most normal
people would regard a cock and bull story concocted about growing up in
Turkey and having a background in jihadi culture, if not actually true,
then as being a pack of lies put forward for personal gain by playing
on American evangelical fears about Islam. Not so, according to Elmer
Towns, Dean of Liberty's School of Religion in a statement to
Christianity Today: if Caner's story is not true, then it is just a
case of the kind of `theological leverage' in which the school
typically allows its faculty to engage.
So
telling lies has now become theological leverage, and is acceptable
once one has reached a certain rank in the Christian firmament?
"What?" you say "Next thing you know, they'll be inventing new and
trendy terms for adultery which blunt the moral force of that sin too,
presumably not an ethical matter either, providing one is high enough
up the evangelical hierarchy to be accountable to no-one." Well, funny
you should mention that...... recently, I happened to come across
someone talking about a new sin with which I was not familiar, the sin
of relational mobility. Hmmm, I thought, sounds interesting. I
wonder if that's what it's called when I roll over at night and
accidentally whack my wife on the head with a flailing arm as I fight
off some imagined sea serpent that has invaded my dreams? Or perhaps
it's a cute way of referring to the typical husband's capacity for
vanishing off the face of the earth when his wife wants to go the shops
to choose some new wallpaper?
Wrong on both
counts. As I investigated the conversation, the crime in question
seemed to be nothing less than divorce based on adultery; to be blunt,
the shattering of a marriage by illicit and explicit genital
intercourse between two people outside the bonds of the marriage vows
that had been taken. That's what the sin of 'relational mobility'
apparently is. Nice way of putting it, nest'ce pas?
There
are a number of things to notice about these two incidents. First,
they typify the trendy obfuscation that has increasingly dogged our
societies for twenty years or more. It reminds me of another Cambridge
cartoon, depicting a scientist telling a friend that his dog had just
died, or, to quote his words exactly, `entered a permanent mode of
negative functionality.' Thus it is with pompous flannel: to call the
telling of lies `theological leverage' or to describe the
straightforward destruction of a marriage by the sexual betrayal of a
spouse as `relational mobility' is a good, if obviously gutless and
sleazy, way of hiding exactly what it is that has been done.
Secondly,
as regards `relational mobility', it is interesting that the language
itself was spouting from the lips of someone who seemed to need to cast
everything from God to garbage disposal systems in `relational
categories.' Yet, while the language used the word `relational', it
actually served to depersonalize, derelationalize the whole thing.
Tell me you've committed adultery, and I know you have had sex with
someone you shouldn't, and thereby permanently damaged your
relationship with your spouse, the one you promised to love, come hell
or highwater, because, like some sexually incontinent rabbit, ... Tell me you've committed the sin
of relational mobility, and as far as I am concerned, you might simply
have hit the neighbour's fence post while parallel parking. Adultery
carries long established weight which highlights exactly the sexually
explicit nature of the betrayal of a loved one; 'relational mobility'
is vacuous, self-serving, sleazy flannel.
Third,
and not to put too fine a point on its, it's so utterly dishonest and
completely bonkers, worthy of inclusion in the Encyclopedia Dissemblica
under the entry for `Pretentious Jargon Used By the Sleazy to Avoid the
Consequences of their Actions.' I cannot wait to see the new,
evangelical translation of
Mt. 5:27
for the emerging market: `I say to you that everyone who looks at a
woman with mobile intent has already committed relational mobility in
his heart.' That certainly packs a punch over against older
translations. And we'll need to add a clause to the Ninth Commandment
to the effect that it only applies to those who don't hold positions of
responsibility in the church or won't profit by their perjury - sorry,
their `theological leverage.'
What is so
jawdropping in all this is the clear belief of the people who use this
language that the rest of us are complete idiots. If I built my
career on telling people that I had grown up in the jungles of Borneo
as the devoted worshipper of the Snake God and, after years of eating
missionaries had finally been converted through the ministry of one, I
would be guilty of lying, not theological leverage, and everyone would
know that that was the case. And if I have had sex with a woman who is
not the lady listed on my marriage certificate, I have committed
adultery. My next door neighbours know what adultery means; the
mailman knows what adultery means; and quite possibly the man who
stands at the local bus-stop and talks to the fire hydrant, convinced
it is his long-lost brother, might still have enough about him to know
what adultery means. They can tell the difference between
self-serving, dishonest flannel, and the truth. Am I alone in finding
it offensive that these people who lay claim to being leaders in the
church think that the rest of us are so stupid that we cannot see this
for the patronizing dishonesty that it is?
Worse
still, of course, are the theological implications: to think that I am
an idiot is one thing. Many have done that; it's not unusual and,
sadly, I am sure there is plenty of evidence to suggest that I am not
the sharpest knife in the drawer. But these people seem to think they
can fool God with their slick talk and soundbites. Yes, believe it or
not, they apparently regard themselves as cleverer than their maker.
Like Adam and Eve sewing fig leaves together in the Garden, they
believe that, if they use the right words, He just won't notice the
reality that lies behind their thin veil of semantic scamology. In
fact, they have squeezed God into a box that is so small he barely has
the divine equivalent of two brain cells to rub together. Their
apriori theological system has led them to assume God is as thick as
two short planks, and that a bit of obfuscatory language and the odd
specious euphemism will prevent him from holding them accountable for
their lies and the filth of their personal lives.
To
consider other human beings to be so stupid as not to see through
flannel about `theological leverage' and `sins of relational mobility'
is patronizing and offensive; but to assume God is moron, as thick as a
brick, is, frankly, dangerous. Make no mistake: unlike the evangelical
and emergent dupes out there, God is not mocked.
--
Thanks.
HBTN,
Mike Abendroth
www.bbcchurch.org
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