Curtis A. Bronzan

I’m thankful for videos like this one, from Above the Influence by the National Youth Anti-Drug Media Campaign. Though I doubt it needs to be said, any attempt at keeping teenagers from trying any kind of drugs is a good thing – and should be supported wholeheartedly.

That said, I fear this ad might actually communicate that by choosing not to “get twisted”, one can expect to be rewarded in some way. I realize this may seem like a kind of backwards, psychoanalytic, deconstructed, Peter Rollins/Slavoj Žižek-like “reading” – but notice how the commercial is shot from the perspective of the man at the counter, instead of the perspective of the students at the table, concluding with the man giving them a free meal.

Again, without seeming to be pessimistic, wouldn’t a truer account be one where the students who choose not to use drugs end up paying for their friends who skip out on the bill? And then, we would be faced with the reality that the true reward isn’t the free meal, it’s not doing drugs.

I’m all for generosity, and encouraging those who don’t “get twisted” in any possible way, but fear that if they “just say no” in hopes of a reward, they’ll miss the reward of being healthy and drug-free. Notice also, right before the man says “we’re straight”, there are straws on the counter that are straight! Coincidence? I think not!

I recently had the chance to think through some recent immigration issues with some friends. I’ve written up some of our thoughts here. What do you think?

In their book Understanding Folk Religion: A Christian Response to Popular Beliefs and Practices, Paul Hiebert, R. Daniel Shaw, and Tite Tiénou address areas where Christian missionaries have sought to rid a particular culture of their deeply held “superstitions,” though such deeply held beliefs often simply went underground. They note that, in these cases, the people “added Christianity as a new layer of beliefs on top of the old. The result was two-tier Christianity.” (19)

Do we also find this dynamic present when Christians become allegiant to democratic political systems over against the Judeo-Christian ethical system in which they are called to “love the stranger, for you were once strangers in the land of Egypt”? (Deuteronomy 10.19) This is seen in the account of Rahab’s hiding of the spies, because she had come to fear the LORD more than the King of Jericho. (see Joshua 2) Even the Book of James recounts her faith:

“In the same way, was not even Rahab the prostitute considered righteous for what she did when she gave lodging to the spies and sent them off in a different direction?” (James 2.25)

The church of Jesus Christ, then – if we take the Scriptures literally – is centered upon the maintenance of the people of God and His kingdom instead of the kingdoms of this world. As scholar and pastor Greg Boyd notes,

Our allegiance… can never be to any version of the kingdom-of-the-world, however much better we may think it is than other versions of the kingdom-of-the-world. Our allegiance is to our heavenly Father, whose country we belong to and into whose family we’ve been adopted. (Boyd, The Myth of a Christian Nation: How the Quest for Political Power is Destroying the Church, 70-71)

As  seen throughout the Scriptural witness and Christian history (when the church has been at it’s best), followers of Jesus are supposed to be the civil society, as opposed to allowing – or voting for – a political system to be the salt and light of the world. Christians, who proclaim the Lordship of Jesus Christ, are therefore called to question whether what is legal is just.

As African-American theologian James H. Cone has asserted, locating the Christian story in light of God’s liberation of the poor instead of an emphasis on human self-understanding means that “the gospel comes not only as a gift but that the acceptance of the gift of freedom transforms our perception of our social and political experience.” (Cone, God of the Oppressed, 71)

Those who have received this gospel, the church – with it’s transformed perceptions – is called, therefore, to transform the lived realities of the other, since their God – revealed in the person of Jesus of Nazareth and the indwelling of the Holy Spirit – is the God of the oppressed, the title of Cone’s landmark book.

A few questions come to mind: First, is this too idealistic? Put another way, can we actually call Christians to live this radically? And secondly, perhaps more importantly, why hasn’t the church been proactive working for the cause of injustice? Why is the church reactive, rather than proactive? To ponder this second question is to rethink an integral element of Christian social engagement.

I came across a passage in Scot McKnight’s book A Community Called Atonement this morning, which reminded me of a post a while back:

Before we look at atonement as the work of God that creates a pervasively just society, let me clarify the expression “social justice.” We make a serious mistake when writing with adjectives: “social” before justice limits justice and moves justice from the church into the government. I propose that we drop the word “social” in the term “social justice.” First, such an expression tends to imply an old-fashioned dualistic spirituality in which some things are spiritual and some things are social. In addition, the only way to define “justice” is reference to a standard. Social justice tends to be defined by its standard: the fundamental principles of the U.S. Constitution – or a watered-down version thereof. But justice for the Christian is not about freedom or liberty, rights, individualism, or the pursuit of happiness. When that is what justice means to the Christian, that Christian has adopted Western values as the standard by which justice is defined. Christians can’t let the U.S. Constitution (or John Stuart Mill or Karl Marx) define what “justice” means. We have to define justice in a way consistent with what Jesus meant by “kingdom.” Which raises a postmodern issue that cuts sharply into the deep caverns of what we mean by justice. (124)

Slavoj Žižek’s forthcoming book Living in the End Times has caught my interest.

Biblically speaking, we’ve been in the “end times” since the first century, but any time somebody brings up the apocalyptic, my ears perk up. Usually “end of the world” language comes from fairly conservative Christian circles, like the Left Behind series. Which makes it that much more interesting to me – sociologically speaking – when an atheist, Marxist, psychoanalytic, continental philosopher who thinks everyone should “go through the Christian experience”, like Žižek, writes on the “end times” with reference to the biblical account!

While I’ve enjoyed reading Žižek, most of his overly playful writing is not – in the end – very helpful to my ThM research or service in the church. His engagement with Christianity is interesting to engage with, but much of his writing is so deeply indebted to Lacan, Hegel, and Freud, I have a hard time incorporating it, since I’m not very familiar with them. His indebtedness to Marx is seen clearly in the product description below.

In full disclosure, I’m am not worried about the end times. At all. My faith is in the One who will bring forth “a new heaven and a new earth” and “make everything new” (see Revelation 21). But really, how interesting does this sound (again, sociologically speaking)?:

There should no longer be any doubt: global capitalism is fast approaching its terminal crisis. Slavoj Zizek has identified the four horsemen of this coming apocalypse: the worldwide ecological crisis; imbalances within the economic system; the biogenetic revolution; and exploding social divisions and ruptures. But, he asks, if the end of capitalism seems to many like the end of the world, how is it possible for Western society to face up to the end times? In a major new analysis of our global situation, Slavok Zizek argues that our collective responses to economic Armageddon correspond to the stages of grief: ideological denial, explosions of anger and attempts at bargaining, followed by depression and withdrawal.

After passing through this zero-point, we can begin to perceive the crisis as a chance for a new beginning. Or, as Mao Zedong put it, “There is great disorder under heaven, the situation is excellent.” Slavoj Zizek shows the cultural and political forms of these stages of ideological avoidance and political protest, from New Age obscurantism to violent religious fundamentalism. Concluding with a compelling argument for the return of a Marxian critique of political economy, Zizek also divines the wellsprings of a potentially communist culture – from literary utopias like Kafka’s community of mice to the collective of freak outcasts in the TV series Heroes.

Once upon a time there was a quaint little town teetering on the edge of a massive delta with the purest water in the history of the world. This water was runoff from the snow in mountains high above the valley that held the delta that bordered the town.

As a result of the snow that fell which turned into water, and the delta that water created, this town built a massive irrigation system and became famous in its part of the world for the grains it grew – and the bread it baked with the grains it grew.

On the other side of this massive delta was another town that also benefitted from the snow that fell, the water it became and the delta that water created. Instead of growing grains, however, this town grew grapes – and became famous for the grapes it grew – and the wines it fermented with the grapes it grew.

Sadly, if these two towns tried to trade their products, they were forced to journey around this delta, the largest delta on the earth. By the time these traders reached one another, of course, the bread had grown moldy and the wine had turned to vinegar.

One day the best known farmer of wheat got an idea. “Why don’t we build a bridge across the delta that is created by the water of melted snow, so we can trade our bread for wine?” So he gathered the town together and explained his idea.

“Friends, let’s put all of our funds in together so we can build a bridge across the delta of the water from the snow? That way, we can trade some of our bread for some of their wine!”

Another man raised an objection. “What about the giant rocks on our side of the delta? They will certainly keep us from building a bridge to the other side of the delta to trade some of our bread for their wine.”

“No,” the farmer responded, “I’ve already thought of that. If we gather enough money, we can rent a giant drill big enough to carve a hole in the rocks so we can build a bridge to trade some of our bread with some of their wine.”

And they did. One day a man came and drilled a whole in the side of the rocks large enough for any delivery truck to pass through. Sadly, it took more money than they expected, and they were left with very little for the construction of the bridge.

Gathering the town again, the farmer said, “I know it seems bleak, like we don’t have enough money to build a bridge so we can trade our bread for some of their wine. But, if, instead of paying someone to build our bridge, and we build it ourselves, I know we can do it!”

And they did. Everyone gave their money, but only a few of the men were needed to build the bridge across the delta so they could trade some of their bread for wine. To save time, of course, they built the bridge on dry land and would only later put it in the water.

Again the farmer gathered the town, asking, “who of you men are the strongest? We need only the strongest to carry the bridge from the dry land through the tunnel to set it in the water so we can trade some our bread for some of their wine.”

And they didn’t.

When a few of the town’s strongest men assembled, they were able to raise the bridge without difficulty. And they carried it to the tunnel without difficulty. But the bridge was too large to fit through the tunnel so it could be dropped in the water so the town could trade some of their bread for some of the other town’s wine. In building the bridge, in being focused on the grandiose accomplishment, they precluded themselves from being able to see the project to its completion.

Distraught, the farmer gave up.

He settled into a deep depression, until, one day, his little girl asked “Daddy, why were you content to involve everyone’s money but the strength of only a few?”

“If we work together,” she continued, “we could complete the bridge!”

“How?” he asked.

“Well, let’s gather for another town meeting.”

Standing before the entire town, the farmer’s little girl explained what must be done. “If we each grab a hammer, taking the bridge apart, we can each carry a piece over the dry land, through the tunnel and down the rocky slope. Then, and only then, can we reassemble the bridge, piece by piece.”

Early the next morning the town assembled, hammers in hand. By noon they had disassembled the bridge, by mid-afternoon they had carried it piece by piece through the tunnel, and by dinner time they joined the town on the other side for a feast none would ever forget.

And the farmer’s daughter was the guest of honor. Her dad couldn’t have been more proud, not of his bridge, of course. Of his daughter.

That day he learned the good news that big things start small, and are often accomplished by small people.

A while back when Glenn Beck first said this I wasn’t foolish enough to engage with it. But, take me out of my comfort zone for a few days and I get myself into all kinds of trouble. I’m sure by now we’ve all heard this by now:

I beg you, look for the words ’social justice’ or ‘economic justice’ on your church Web site. If you find it, run as fast as you can. Social justice and economic justice, they are code words.

Some people have erroneously stated that this is unbiblical, though I’m afraid they’re quite wrong. Jesus, in the Gospel of Matthew, quite clearly states:

When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his throne in heavenly glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.

Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you owned a business I was able to buy something from, I was thirsty and you sold me a bottle of water, I was a stranger and you rented me a hotel room, I needed clothes and you designed some really cool ones, I was sick and your ambulance company took me to a hospital, I was in prison and you told me what a terrible sinner I was.’

See? Jesus isn’t really into the whole social justice thing.

Of course, I’m joking a little bit. Or, a lot bit.

If you’re a Glenn Beck fan, please continue reading, because he’s not the only one who sees things a little differently.

The second half of the aforementioned passage is actually a little bit different:

Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’

Granted, I’m not really all that familiar with Beck, so I’m not sure where he is at theologically. Either way, it doesn’t seem like his theology guides this perspective. Instead, I think it might be his political outlook.

At the religious gathering I serve, I’ve shared the findings of professor Scot McKnight of North Park University. Each year he invites his first year students to fill out a survey regarding their perception of Jesus’ understanding of ethical issues. The next week he hands out the same survey asking his students their perspective.

Of course, they’re almost exactly the same. Maybe Glenn is guilty of the same sort of thing. I know I am.

But it begs the question: Do we come to the Scriptures with our ideas and try to fit them to our mold? Or do we allow the Scriptures to shape our perspectives?

Glenn and I are similar in one regard: We both long for a world that doesn’t need the government to take care of it. And far as I understand, he sees the business world as the remedy. And I see the church – if only it remembered passages like the one quoted above. And again, I’m implicating myself as well.

It’s easy to read books, write blogs, and preach sermons. Doing something, on the other hand?

I recently came across this on the Facebook:

President Obama has decided that there will no longer be a “National Day of Prayer” held in May. He doesn’t want to offend anybody. Where was his concern about offending Christians last January when he allowed the Muslims to hold a day of prayer on the capitol grounds. As a Christian American “I am offended.” if you agree copy and paste no matter what religion you are, this country was built on Freedom PASS IT ON

It turns out, however, President Obama had nothing to do with it. The USA Today put it this way:

The rumors arise out of Thursday’s decision by Wisconsin U.S. District Judge Barbara Crabb that the National Day of Prayer is unconstitutional. She ruled that it violates the First Amendment’s ban against a law respecting an establishment of religion.

The National Day of Prayer has been in effect since Harry S. Truman signed a bill bringing it into law in 1952, stating that it provided an opportunity for “the people of the United States [to] turn to God in prayer and meditation in churches, in groups, and as individuals.” It has been held on the first day of May since 1988, during President Reagan’s second term in the White House.

All that aside, upon returning to the Facebook status update itself, we ought to question what is really at stake, what is really going on in the statement. At the outset, the assertion is that “President Obama has decided that there will no longer be a “National Day of Prayer” held in May.” It concludes, on the other hand, with “if you agree copy and paste no matter what religion you are, this country was built on Freedom PASS IT ON.”

So, let’s question what’s really at stake: Is it prayer we are urged to fight for, or is it freedom? This may seem unimportant, but is this not the most important?

Christian faith – at least biblically speaking – is firmly based on the principles of both freedom and prayer. But can either of those things be granted by a government? Can true freedom – in the Christian sense of the term – be granted by a civic agency? Can true prayer be legislated?

Notice 1st Thessalonians 5.16-24:

Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

Do not put out the Spirit’s fire; do not treat prophecies with contempt. Test everything. Hold on to the good. Avoid every kind of evil.

May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. May your whole spirit, soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful and he will do it.

How is it that in the midst of the thoroughly pagan Roman empire, followers of Jesus were encouraged to “pray continually”? Had they been granted that opportunity once a year?

Of course not. Their simple faith statement “Jesus is Lord” had, of course, been stolen from the playbook of Caesar, who, believing himself to be god incarnate, required all Roman citizens to state “Caesar is Lord.”

And Christians throughout the centuries have prayed not because they have been given the opportunity to pray by their governments, but rather because they have been given freedom through the work of Jesus, the Messiah, Son of the Living God.

Notice also Romans 8:

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. The creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.

Could our attempts to legislate prayer be abdicating our responsibility to live as “children of God”? Do we spend more time “fighting for our rights” than we do living the true freedom granted us by Jesus himself?

Or, to put it in even more stark terms, would the Christian movement be exploding exponentially in China – where Christians are not allowed to gather together – if instead of gathering subversively they took to the streets to fight for a day of prayer?

The church has always spread explosively when governments tried to put it down. Always.

But, with all due respect to my well meaning friends, we don’t want the good news of freedom to spread, we just want our Commander in Chief to recognize our rights. And if he doesn’t, well then, let’s post it to Facebook.

If you’re at all interested what theological examinations are like:

So, I’ve been offered an ordained “pastor” position at the church where I’ve had the honor of serving since 2006. It’s been approved by the Committee on Ministry of the Los Ranchos Presbytery, though there’s two more hoops to jump through:

1) This Sunday, February 21st, I’ll be preaching at the church in all three services, after which there’ll be a congregational meeting, where they’ll vote.

2) Then, on Thursday, February 25th, I’ll go before “the floor” of the Presbytery (which is made up of all the pastors and delegated elders in the area) who will examine me, asking me any theological question they’d like. And I get to answer it! How fun.

So, if you’re in the LA area and would like to swing by – especially Thursday’s meeting – it’d be really great to have some familiar faces in the crowd.

3) Then, if I get through all that, we’re throwing an ordination service/party on Sunday, March 21st, in Los Alamitos. Put it on your calendar.

At that party you can jokingly refer to me as “pastor.” After that, it’s back to Curtis.

Calling me pastor is flat out unbiblical. Really. Check out Matthew 23.

In The Politics of Jesus, John Howard Yoder states:

Jesus was not just a moralist whose teachings had some political implications; he was not primarily a teacher of spirituality whose public ministry unfortunately was seen in a political light; he was not just a sacrificial lamb preparing for his immolation, or a God-man whose divine status calls us to disregard his humanity. Jesus was, in his divinely mandated (i.e., promised, anointed, messianic) prophethood, priesthood, and kingship, the bearer of a new possibility of human, social, and therefore political relationships. His baptism is the inauguration and his cross is the culmination of that new regime in which his disciples are called to share. Hearers or readers may choose to consider that kingdom as not real, or not relevant, or not possible, or not inviting; but no longer can we come to this choice in the name of systematic theology or honest hermeneutics. At this one point there is no difference between the Jesus of Historie and the Christ of Geschichte, or between Christ as God and Jesus as Man, or between the religion of Jesus and the religion about Jesus (or between the Jesus of the canon and the Jesus of history). No such slicing can avoid his call to an ethic marked by the cross, a cross identified as the punishment of a man who threatens society by creating a new kind of community leading a radically new kind of life. (52-53)