“Freud’s Last Session” and the Art of Civility

March 27, 2012 By Richard Dahlstrom 2 Comments

In the span of a few short days, I had two experiences which, together, served to expose a serious crack in the edifice of American culture.  First, I attended a conference in New York where I listened to Os Guinness speak briefly about the serious shortage of civility in the public square.  This was part of a larger conference on science of faith, but the polarization of American culture extends far beyond conversations between young earth creationists, intelligent design advocates, and theistic evolutionists.  There are racist polarities still powerfully present in our culture as the death of Trayvon Martin highlights.  The new atheists have an agenda that couldn’t be more explicit:  Tolerance of pervasive myth and superstition in modern society is not a virtue….. Wake up people!!  We are smart enough now to kill our invisible gods and oppressive beliefs.   It is the responsibility of the educated to educate the uneducated, lest we fall prey to the tyranny of ignorance. Such rhetoric points towards a sort of ideological, if not literal, genocide, envisioning a utopian faithless society, in fulfillment of John Lennon’s “Imagine” dream.  Of course, in the other corner, you have fundamentalism’s vision of a “Christian culture”, explained by Guinness as a vision of a sacred public square, in which one religion or another is privileged (though not established) — usually associated for better or worse with the religious right.

Even within both political and faith circles, there is further fragmentation.  The right is divided by Tea Party loyalists, social, and fiscal conservatives.  Within the faith community there are emergent movements and neo-calvinists movements, both with their guns pointed at the other.  The rhetoric, inflamatory statements, and inflated articulations of what’s at stake have created a culture where fear and withdrawal into our ghettos trums civility.

This is no small matter because history tells us that it’s the various framents of culture, lusting for power, that turn culture wars into real wars.  Guinness says that, of all the fragments present among us, Christians should be the champions a civil discourse that is honest and courageous, while allowing for different world views, and living charitably with those who hold them.  This is different from mindless intolerance, for it encourages civil conversations.  It’s also different from “live and let live” tolerance that’s rooted in the notion that there is no transcendent truth.   In our highly framented culture, the recovery of this kind of civility may just be one of the most vital pursuits of our time.

This theme was reinforced ss soon as I arrived home from New York.  I attended a play entitled, “Freud’s Last Session” which is a dialogue between Sigmund Freud and CS Lewis, taking place in London, in 1939.  Freud is dying of cancer and antheist, Lewis is a rising start at Oxford and a robust Christ follower.  They meet in Freud’s office for a discussion.  Masterfully acted and directed, the Taproot Theater production is, in my mind, a must see for anyone living in the Seattle area, because it offers a shining example of civil discourse.  Here are two men, each holding a world view diametrically opposed to the other, and as they talk the differences are quickly apparent.  They shout at each other.  They violently disagree – and they treat each other with dignity.

In my book, The Colors of Hope, I quote Miroslav Volf, who writes: Forgiveness flounders because I exclude the enemy from the community of humans even as I exclude myself from the community of sinners. Volf is saying that we all have this tendency to create a false moral high ground where we come to view ourselves as the privileged righteous, which has the implicit affect of marginalizing and vilifying the other.  In Freud’s Last Session, though, we see flaws in both Lewis and Freud, as well as a measure of glory in each.  This is the truth of it.  We who follow Christ are still fallen.  Those who vehemently deny Christ still hold some vestige of God’s image.  There are atheists doing good things in this world, and believers spewing hate and praying for the death of our president.  The categories dissolve.

What’s left then, are ideals, and our understanding of the truths that we believe govern the universe.   This is very different than “I’m a good person and you’re a bad person”.  Historically, when the conversations have centered on truths and ideals, differing sides usually found a large playing field of commonality, where they could agree, and work together.  As recently as during the Clinton administration, Chuck Hegal and Madeline Albright worked closely together on foreign matters.  Though holding different ideologies, they managed to find common ground and arenas in which they could work together.  Even where they strongly differed, their discourse exemplified mutual respect.

Those days seem long gone in nearly every sector of our culture.  We’re retreating into our fragmented ghettos where, together, we villify everyone on the outside, enflaming fear and even hatred.  This isn’t just about politics.  This is about Christians throwing rocks at each other and failing to see the common ground we share.  It needs to stop.

At the end of Freud’s Last Session, as Lewis is leaving Freud’s office, the heated debate has died down.  Freud’s health issues became very real during their time together, as did the possibilities of Germany bombing London.  We saw their mutual humanity, and glory.  Lewis looks at Freud and says, “it was foolish of us, really, to think that we could solve these grand problems (regarding God, truth, meaning, sexuality) in hour wasn’t it!” Freud’s response is beautiful:  “yes… but the only thing more foolish would be to not try”.  Beautiful.  Nobody is advocating for mindless tolerance, or blind surrender to post-modern pessimism.   Instead, this is a plea for civility- looking for common ground, seeking the common good, and seeking to bless all people.   It’s a pursuit worthy of our grandest efforts, but can begin today, as we extend a hand and listening ear to someone with whom we disagree.

 

Filed Under: Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , 2 Comments

Loving People, Losing Life – The Gospel made Real

March 6, 2012 By Richard Dahlstrom 9 Comments

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone.  But if it dies, it bears much fruit. Jesus the Christ

Jeremiah Small was a student who attended the Torchbearer Bible Schools, the family of schools where I am privileged to teach on a regular basis.  Jeremiah was teaching in Iraq until last week, when he was killed by one of his students, before turning the gun on himself.  An e-mail I received from one of his friends remembers Jeremiah this way:  He did much more than spread the gospel, he trained individuals to seek truth.  Seeing truth is something that Jeremiah did unlike anyone else. He committed his whole being to knowing God and wrestled to know his character with exemplary  diligence and faith.  In this news video Jeremiah’s dad speaks of his son’s life, of his passion to live life generously, courageously, fully, even if such commitments meant a shorter life.  He was 33.

I was moved by reading the perspective of a Kurdish student in this article from the Kurdistan Tribune, where he wrote:  In the classroom he taught his students a love of Literature and Humanities and encouraged them to always look for truth and seek knowledge; he spent all of his energy and time teaching, mentoring, and giving. Most importantly, he encouraged his students to pursue education as a way of giving back to their community; he was himself a servant leader and wanted to see more servant leadership in our country.

In the community he was a faithful and friendly expatriate. He cared for Kurdistan’s nature, environment, traditions, and way of life. A camera slung on his shoulder, you could spot him walking down of Mawlawi Street in his Jili Kurdi with his colleagues and students during Nawroz. He was no regular teacher; he was a mentor with immense God-given capabilities.

Our world is obsessed with economics, upward mobility, and security.  Here’s a man who cared for none of these things.  Our world is filled with arrogant pontifications, both political and theological, with acidic language becoming so commonplace that my soul’s nearly numb.  Jeremiah, it appears, didn’t care about any of it.  He  just got on with loving the people around him, challenging, serving, blessing.  On the day I read of his death, 60 minutes had yet another stories about hundreds of boys abused by priests, making me nearly throw up.  Jeremiah met people and helped them become whole.  His death comes right in the midst of this Lenten season when I’ve left behind any writings about politics and divisive issues in order to focus on one single question:  What does it mean to identify fully with Christ? Jeremiah’s life and death shed light on the answer:

Following Christ means emptying oneself. This is what sets the gospel apart from everything else I’ve ever seen.  Real faith is not some path to upward mobility, or downward mobility either for that matter.  Real faith means so fully identifying with Christ that we, like him, empty ourselves of self-seeking, self-promotion, self-preservation.  Philanthropy gives off the top, out of the margins.  Philanthropy’s good, but it’s not the Christian life.   Christ gives everything, lavishly pouring out his very life for a broken humanity, and then invites us to follow His example, noting that only those who are pouring their lives out will really find the life for which they were created.  This is paradox.  This is the core of the gospel.  In an age where the core’s gone missing, where the gospel has become “self improvement” instead of self-emptying, Jeremiah’s example shines.

Following Christ means loving. One of his students wrote: For me personally, Jeremiah Small was both a teacher and a friend. After my parents, he contributed the most to my personality and knowledge. He taught me how to turn my vision into reality and challenged me to be diligent, observing, meek, organized, and detailed.

He was also a great friend outside of the classroom; we went on numerous hikes, trips, and other outings. God knows I would not be who I am today if it was not for him and what he presented to me. I am sure hundreds of his other students feel the same way.

Jeremiah’s life and ministry of loving his students deeply, sacrificially, unconditionally, stands in stark contrast to too much of what passes for Christianity these days.  I’m chastened, humbled, challenged, by his example of delighting in his students and serving them tirelessly, for this, in the end, is the essential ingredient to making God’s good reign visible in world.  I see this love in my daughter and her work as a teacher in Germany.  I see it in friends who are caring for spouses and parents during their last days.  Would to God that all of us would grasp that this simple posture of sacrificial love, of delighting to serve the other in Jesus, is the most powerful force on the planet.

But alas, the pricetags have been switched, and the Christian machinery of the West has created a “faith” that adds activities, books, radio stations, camps, and the endless words of sermons to our lives, without necessarily calling people to empty themselves, follow Christ, take up their cross, and love deeply.  The results are loud – but not pretty.  Thank God for the Jeremiahs of the world who, without fanfare, are getting on with the work of serving and loving in Jesus’ name.   May the death of Jeremiah cause their tribe to increase.

O God of life;

You call us to pour our lives out as a sacrifice, promising that those who “lose their lives” for your sake will find them.  Thank you that Jeremiah found his life, found his true voice, found deep joy, by emptying his life.  Now, having paid the fullest sacrifice in his service to you, I pray that the example of his life will continue to “preach Christ” for generations to come, and that we who knew him in life, or only just now in death, would follow you fully as a result.  You point us to the cross, and now Jeremiah stands beside you, counted among the millions who’ve gone before to show us the way.  This is our hope and joy.

Amen

 

 

Filed Under: church, intimacy, leadership, life Tagged With: , , , , 9 Comments

Dancing the Sabbath in 6/7 time

August 8, 2009 By Richard Dahlstrom 1 Comment

I’m privileged to teach in Europe every year for a week or two. Europe, you know, is what the Republican party is afraid we’re becoming if we let everybody have access to health care. It’s the “post Christian” culture that so many are afraid we’ll become if we don’t vote properly. I’m not certain what “becoming like Europe means”… I know it means that we’ll spend less on health care per capita while our mortality rates will drop and our longevity rates will rise. I know it means that church bells will ring at the beginning, middle, and end of each day, along with each hour. I know it means that public schools will celebrate “prayer day” where they learn about prayer in history, and spend time actually praying. I know it means that there’ll be less access to AK47s and other rapid assault rifles for common citizens, and that the rates for homocides will be lower, as will the rate of incarceration. I know it means a barista won’t lose their home because they need open heart surgery. I know all this… I just fail to see what everyone’s frightened about.

However, rather than tackle the whole “socialist, church bells, prayer day, gun control” culture, I’d like to just talk about the Sabbath, which is practiced far better in Europe than it is here. Our culture is open for business 24/7. As a result, we’ve collectively lost our sense of rhythm, and this has serious consequences:

1. Because shops are open 7 days a week, we buy! This piece of our culture has the effect of enabling our propensity to wear ourselves out. In contrast, only activities that enhance leisure and relationship building (cafes, ski areas) are open on Sundays in the places I travel in Europe.

2. Because we buy, we do stuff, and the stuff we do often has the effect of displacing the leisure of eating a meal, slowly, with good friends, good wine, good conversation. Instead we’re painting the fence, or cleaning the house, or whatever.

3. These things we do, combined with our love of TV, are effecting our relational capacity. A friend from Europe visited some college students here in the states and found their capacity for lingering conversation lacking, as they preferred, instead to play wii or watch movies.

Of course these are generalizations. Of course there are exceptions. Still, I’d argue that we need to learn from our European friends, how to dance to the rhythm of 6/7 time. Work hard six days a week, and then spend a day investing in rest, restoration, recovery, relationship, recreation, receiving all of it as the gift God intended.

We surely have different vestiges of our Christian heritage more prominent in our culture than our European friends have, but we both have these ‘hangovers’ from the Reformation (good hangovers… if ever there could be such a thing). It’s high time we acknowledged that, maybe they’re onto something with this Sabbath thing, and we learn from them. We might not be able to change the culture at large, but surely we can march to a different drummer ourselves can’t we?

Have friends over for a meal
Sleep in
Worship
Play music with companions
Do something with your spouse: take a bath together, go for a hike, read aloud o each other

In short, make one day different, a day when you quit fighting the battle for survival, and simply enjoy the relationships, food, creation, health, that God has placed on your plate right now. Here’s a book that might help get you started… and good Sabbath to you.

Filed Under: life Tagged With: , , 1 Comment