Sunday, October 7, 2012

Violence, Hospitality, and the Cross (Part 1)

This week in my independent study I began reading Hans Boersma's Violence, Hospitality, and the Cross.  In the introduction Boersma describes the book as being about, "atonement theology as an expression of God's hospitality toward us" (Violence 15).  Unlike many of the authors I have hitherto read in this study, Boersma claims that it is a theological necessity to "affirm the paradox of redemptive violence in order to retain the vision of eschatological unconditional hospitality" (Violence 17).  Otherwise put, if in the future God is going to show his unconditional hospitality to the whole world, then violence is a necessary component of how we see God's hospitality at the present.  In the world marred by sin and violence, Boersma argues that if God is going to be able to show hospitality to anyone it will require violence to to cordon off space for his hospitality.  

First, in discussing the possibility of hospitality, Boersma describes what he sees as the backdrop for this discussion: the "renewed focus on human hospitality among postmodern philosophers," and the "increasing scrutiny among theologians of the role that the cross has played...in our society" (Violence 27).  Boersma's reading of Derrida and Levinas respective conceptualizations of hospitality is that both philosophers desire an ethic marked by an openness to the other.  Derrida's eschatological hospitality is a purview in which one is open "to the future or to the coming of the other as the advent of justice, but without horizon of expectation and without prefiguration" (Violence 30).  This avowedly a-teleological openness to the future is problematic for Boersma because such unconditional hospitality, "may ultimately require openness to the devil himself" (Violence 31).  Further, Derrida's insistence that unconditional hospitality be implemented anon, actually precludes the possibility of such hospitality.

This discussion obviously frustrates Boersma's theological agenda.  One can almost feel the disgruntlement in his accusation that, "Such 'pure hospitality' seems to be the result of an inability to take seriously the particularities and the limitations that we experience in this world, and it may well betray a Gnostic touch" (Violence 36).  While I think that Derrida's conception of pure hospitality possibly needs some modification, I find it incredibly alluring.  It seems as though Christian theology, particularly theology with nonviolent convictions, could appropriate much from Derrida in this line of thought.  This radical openness to the other reminds me of Roman Coles description of John Howard Yoder's ecclesiology where the Lordship of Jesus serves "as the opening of dialogical relations between the church and the world in which giving and receiving is possible, nay probable, in both directions" (Modern Theology 18 no 3 Jl 2002, p 307.).

As Boersma moves to a discussion of nonviolent conceptions of the atonement he makes the troubling assertion that, "we need to ask whether violence is, under any and all circumstances, a morally negative thing" (Violence 43).  Boersma brings up the reality that, "there is both physical and nonphysical violence," (Violence 44) but I would offer that he wants to broaden the definition of violence too far.  He uses the example of disciplining children and asserts that some punishments--be they physical or nonphysical--involve what he terms as "some immediate (nonphysical) injury" (Violence 45).  I agree with his assertion that even a verbal chastening creates a degree of psychological discomfort, but I would not say that all forms of scolding are inherently violent.  Boersma seems to remove questions of motive and intent to violence when he wonders, "When I physically restrain my wife from crossing the street because I suddenly see a car speeding around the corner, am I acting violently?" (Violence 45).  This reductio ad absurdum argument seems superfluous to the discussion because it is answering a question that no one is asking.

I would join with Boersma's skepticism of Walter Winks "nonviolent coercion," but I do not follow this skepticism to the same conclusion.  The claim that, "Any use of force or coercion that involves some kind of hurt or junky...is a form of violence," seems obviously fallacious.  The critics of divinely violent conceptions of the atonement are not worried that they lead to swatting a child's hand away from a hot stove, but they are very concerned about capital punishment, retributive violence in our neighborhoods, and the psychological state that makes warfare appear to be a responsible problem solving technique.  Boersma can join Augustine in the assertion that it is really "love of violence" (Violence 47) that is the great evil in war, but I find that line of argument to be both unpersuasive and unbiblical.

Boersma then moves the discussion toward his own theological persuasion with a discussion of how the Calvinist doctrine of election effects the idea of God's hospitality.  He argues that, "The notion of election...ensured that God's hospitable grace was prior to any human action" (Violence 72).  In this way he pits the idea that God could invite persons into his hospitality based on merit or standard against an arbitrary election where God chooses whom he wills.  If the quintessential message of the gospel is "justification by grace through faith" (as Reformed theologians tend to make it), then I can understand why this is an important distinction to make.  One needs to eliminate any possibility of earned salvation.    Boersma describes the thought of the Calvinists writing:
For God to be truly God he had to have the capacity and the will to override any human resistance to his love.  God's love had to be a powerful love, a love that violently overtook the hearts of his chosen ones. (Violence 72).
Boersma is critical of this position and he notes that High Calvinism was unable to see how such coercive hospitality actually transforms God's hospitable welcome into an incarceration (Violence 73).  He then moves into a discussion of how election and violence operate in history.

Boersma identifies four characteristics of election the Deuteronomic literature. Election is "an act sovereign grace," "an act of god in history," "a corporate act," and "instrumental in character" (Violence 78).  He rightly understands God's election of Israel to be, in fact, an extension of God's hospitality "to the nations, in order to woo them back into a relationship with God and thus bring salvation to the entire world" (Violence 80).  I would however, question his read of exile where he argues that, "The hospitality of election notwithstanding, God warns that if Israel rejects his hospitality, it will face the violence of his reprobation" (Violence 81).  This seems to me to be a narrow reading of the exile, viewing it as a purely retributive act without any redeeming purpose.  I could write much much more about this topic, but succinctly I think that the fact that God uses exile as the consequence for Israel's failure such be read in contrast to God simply destroying Israel with fire and brimstone.  If divine violence was the intention, God surely could have used less ambiguous means.

I appreciate how Boersma desires to negate the view that God's hospitality toward Israel was an arbitrary choice.  I even applaud how prominent his concept of God's "preferential option for the poor," (Violence 84) is in his describing how God used his relationship with Israel.  That said, simply asserting that God uses "the marginalized and oppressed over those who reject his hospitality" (Violence 84), does not help explain God's genocidal tendencies in Joshua.  Boersma actually disarms the exegete from the interpretative tools needed to deal with these texts in a critical manner.  He (unfortunately) writes:
We may desperately want to avoid blaming the God whom we worship for the violence in his story.  But knowingly interpreting the biblical text against the intention of the author and the biblical tradition is an unsatisfying way of coping with the divine violence we meet in the pages of the Bible. (Violence 91)
Such theological detritus may appeal to those who desire to view the Bible as infallible and inerrant in a  modern understanding, but it is hard not to see how blatant wrong it is.  We often read the Bible "against the intention of the author and the biblical tradition."  When I reflect on Psalm 137, I do not relish the idea of killing Iraqi infants.  Further, when I read Acts chapter 5, I give ear to the better angels of my nature in not praying for God to strike dead those who lie about their weekly tithes and offerings.    These may be trivial examples, but the illustrate the larger point.  Boersma wants to argue that when someone--such as myself--understands "Jesus' apparent nonviolence" as normative, "we end up stretching the discontinuity between the Old and the New Testaments beyond the warrant of the biblical text" (Violence 92).  I might counter such a claim with the fact that this is precisely what we see Jesus doing!  Consider Jesus teaching:
“You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; (Matthew 5:38-39 NRSV)
Sometimes Jesus accentuates the resolve of the original text he quotes from (such as his teachings on adultery or divorce), but in this case he upends it!

Boersma's concern seems to be that those who want Jesus' nonviolence to be normative are not taking seriously the impurity of the world.  He writes that, "violence does not predominate, and neither does it have the final say.  But to insist on 'pure hospitality' in a impure world would mean to give it over to the forces of inhospitality and violence.  Put provocatively, God's hospitality in Christ needs an edge of violence to ensure the welcome of humanity and all creation" (Violence 93).  To that I can only answer with an unequivocal, "No!"  It is precisely the fact that God's hospitality is vulnerable to inhospitality and violence that imbues it with power.  God's hospitality incarnate was handed over to a violent world, but "the darkness did not overcome it" (John 1:5).  Paul, a man who knew much vulnerability in his life, had the audacity to declare, "Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?" (1 Corinthians 1:20b)  If Boersma is right then God has to use some of the world's wisdom to make their wisdom look foolish.  Such an idea is would obviously be foolishness in itself.

In his "Loving Your Enemies" sermon, Martin Luther King, Jr. famously said, "Returning hate for hate multiplies hate, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars."  Similarly, Paul writes, "Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good" (Romans 12:21).  I agree with Boersma's claim that, "It is only the light of the pure hospitality awaiting us that can deal with the darkness of all violence and inhospitality that we now experience" (Violence 95), but I do not take it to the same end.  I would argue that only in the light of the pure hospitality revealed in Jesus do we have the resources to proclaim God's hospitable kingdom which is both already and not yet among us.

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