Caputo’s The Insistence of God, Chapter 5 and A Childhood Identity

BookThis last semester I’ve been involved in a reading group exploring Caputo’s new book, The Insistence of God, with Jim Olthuis, Author, philosopher, professor, and rollerblader. Last week, Dean, a fellow student who also has a blog and has written about our reading group (his blog is so good I encourage you to stop reading this and head over there), brought our attention to Caputo’s decision to focus on the topic of religion. Caputo gives two related reasons for focusing on religion, even though, according to him, he could just as easily focus on being and finitude. First, religion is more important and less obscure for American culture than being and finitude. Second, Caputo’s own embeddedness in this tradition provokes him to take up his heritage. This interesting (and on some levels disingenuous) rhetorical move, motivated me to think about chapter five without explicitly referencing religion. What does it look like when we remove religion from the discussion?

Perhaps we can have this conversation using an example from my childhood. Back then, I found myself in a context that encouraged competition and sport. This context both enabled and limited me. It limited me in the sense that it determined the perspective through which I saw the world, one full of winners and losers. As unhealthy as this perspective can be, it was a large influence on my choice to self-identify as an athlete. In addition to limiting self-understanding, my competitive social context afforded me the opportunity to learn how to play with others, to lead, and even on the rare occasion, to lose gracefully.

The finite nature of my historical perspective hid from me the “event” taking place in the name athlete. At the age of eighteen, I unexpectedly blew out my knee, an injury that forced me to see the world from a new perspective. The injury made me skeptical (or atheistic) of my own confessed identity. Although I had matured as an athlete, this identity did not fully contain the truth of who I was—past, present, and future. Dogmatically holding on to the name “athlete” would have been detrimental to my own development and a poor expression of self-love. Continue reading

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Communion at ICS

The question, “How should we ‘do’ church?” has haunted my liturgical experience. Growing up as a PK I had the good, or not so good, fortune of experiencing a number of different liturgical communities. In undergrad David Cunningham’s book “Christian Ethics: The End of the Law” introduced me to the formative aspect of Christian liturgy and sent me on journey exploring Catholic, Eastern Orthodox and many protestant expressions of faith. In the future, I’d like to do a series titled “A Meal as Liturgy” or something like that. Until then, here are some thoughts I shared at my graduate school’s first chapel of the year, which happened to occur around a meal.

For me, sharing a meal can be an act of worship for many reasons. Two reasons that I find interesting and important include being thankful for food, and the fact that a meal seems to improve when it’s shared. I grew-up on a hobby farm, where food was something that we didn’t take for granted, not because we didn’t have enough, but rather being part of growing and harvesting made it difficult to separate this process from the actual act of consuming. I mean, as a young boy I learned how to milk a cow by hand. I hated doing it, the cow hated when I did it, but it had to be done, even when my father was away. After struggling to squeeze a bucket of milk out of a 1600 lbs animal it’s difficult to forget food’s fuller context.

To Serve and Cultivate

To Serve and Cultivate. The farm’s blog can be found by clicking on the picture of that sharp looking young man.

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