Conserving the Progress of Pentecost

We live in a deeply divided world that has severed two ideas from each other that actually require one another to be complete: conservatism and progressivism. Modern cultural and political discourse treats these two concepts as mortal enemies engaged in a zero-sum war. The conservative is caricatured as a defensive gatekeeper of a stagnant past, while the progressive is mocked as a rootless wanderer chasing every passing cultural whim. This binary is a tragic illusion. In the natural world, a tree cannot grow healthy new branches (progress) unless its roots remain firmly anchored in the deep soil (conservation). To disconnect them is to doom the tree to either stunted growth or immediate collapse.

The Feast of Pentecost is a cosmic declaration that the Community of Christ— the Ekklesia, the Church— is called to be both fundamentally conservative and essentially progressive. As with all realities in Christ: Pentecost is subversive, undermining our cultural certainties. It is radical, because it disconnects us from the dead roots of a decaying culture and reconnects us with our root— Latin "radix"— who is Christ alone, from whom all life and nourishment flows (see John 15). Pentecost deconstructs our modern political boxes by demonstrating that true preservation and true progress are two sides of the same divine coin.

From Revelation to Reason to Research: How Theology births Philosophy to birth Science

For ages theology was seen as the "Queen" of the sciences, holding monarchical power over all "lesser" disciplines, from the humanities to law to "natural philosophy" (which in time evolved into the natural sciences, and then grew to include the social sciences). For some exclusivist religions, science is even viewed as an intruder into the realm of theology, to be vigorously disputed and defeated by theological truth. In response, a common secular myth arose that science is both triumphant over, and antithetical to, religion and theology. This comforting story replaces the earlier secular myth which put philosophy in the victor's position over theology. 

Indeed, in our contemporary discourse there are even scientific voices saying that science has replaced not only theology, but also the philosophy that birthed it. Scientists from Stephen Hawking to Neil deGrasse Tyson to Lawrence Krauss to Sam Harris have all said that philosophy is dying (or dead), and we only need science to pursue our evolution as a species. As comforting as these mythologies of secular triumph may be, we may also wonder if they are not throwing the metaphysical baby out with the cultural bathwater. Is it possible that each of these disciplines— theology, philosophy, and science— all have interdependent origins which implicate each in the other, and as a result they need each other to help us live our fullest lives? Perhaps there are healthier alternatives to the winner-takes-all myths of a collapsing modernity. 

The Book of Job and the Risk of God

As we think about what it means to live faithfully in a world that is full of risk and chaos, suffering and death, there is no better literary companion than the ancient book of Job. This is one of the most ancient, and still most poignant, explorations of the problem of pain across all of spiritual literature. In the story of Job, the namesake character is tested by evil and undergoes intense suffering, losing his family, his health, and his hope in chapters 1-2. Afterward, he is comforted and interrogated by four "friends" in chapters 3-37. Essentially they say:

• Eliphaz argues that suffering is always a consequence of sin, implying that Job must have done something to deserve his misfortunes. He urges Job to repent and seek God's forgiveness.

• Bildad takes a harsher stance than Eliphaz, emphasizing God's justice and the inevitability of punishment for the wicked. He sees Job's suffering as proof of his guilt and urges him to confess his sins.

• Zophar is the most dogmatic and uncompromising of the three. He insists that Job's suffering is just and that he should accept it as a lesson from God. He offers no comfort or sympathy, only condemnation.

• Elihu, a younger man, joins the conversation later. He criticizes both Job and his friends, arguing that they have misunderstood God's ways. He emphasizes God's sovereignty and wisdom, suggesting that Job's suffering may have a hidden purpose that he cannot comprehend.

Finally, in chapters 38-42 God Himself speaks to Job out of a whirlwind, challenging him to consider the vastness and complexity of creation. God does not directly answer Job's questions but reminds him of his limited perspective and the unfathomable nature of divine justice. There are several different interpretations of this Divine discussion, but here we will focus on one interpretation that mitigates risk and distances God from risk, and another which implicates God in risk and implies that God risks in creation and redemption.