Saturday, July 7, 2012

An Essay; Or, A Blog Post Never to be Read!


To whom it may concern, this is an essay I wrote for a class on 1 Thessalonians/1Corinthians. The task was to explore the verse quoted below as a summary statement of 1 Corinthians, and to discern Paul's approach to remedying the situation.

The good thing about reading books throughout the year that aren't directly relevant to any particular class is that sometimes one of those books provides a fresh angle from which to tackle an assignment. In this case, that book was The Beauty of the Infinite by David Hart. This essay therefore amounts to little more than piecing together bits of Hart's ecclesiology and moral vision that are found in various places throughout his book, and finding natural correspondence between these and the ecclesiology/moral vision of Paul in this letter that I very much fell in love with.



1 Corinthians: The World in the Church

Introduction
“Brothers and sisters, I could not address you as spiritual but as worldly…” (1 Cor. 3:1)

The strength of this statement as a summary of 1 Corinthians lies in its subtle disclosure of Paul’s ecclesiology: the church as God’s chosen alternative to the world for the sake of the world. The present essay aims first of all to show – using three examples – that it is precisely the failure of the Corinthians to be God’s alternative community (i.e. their worldliness) that occasions the letter and dominates its content from beginning to end. I will then discuss the roots of this “spiritual immaturity,” seeking to attain Paul’s diagnosis of the Corinthian malaise based on the symptoms that are evident. Finally, I will examine Paul’s understanding of the cure.
Church as World
The Corinthian failure to be an alternative to the world propels the arguments of the letter. To be called into the church[1] is to be called out of the world.[2] In other language, it is to be called out of the flesh and into the Spirit.

The question to ask of this letter first is, What does it mean to be “of the Spirit” or “spiritual”? To be “spiritual” was not to excel in a particular facet of life that we might term “religion.” It was, rather, to practise a set of social, political and devotional habits[3] in light of the love of God revealed in Christ and in light of the time of God that judged this age of the flesh with its powers and rulers as passing away[4] and the new age of the Spirit as dawning. The spirituality that Paul advocates is thus not a new way of doing religion but a new way of life, leaving no sphere untouched and unredeemed by the gospel.

The Corinthians’ worldliness was their maintenance of the status quo, and we can cite examples of this in the realm of politics, social practices, and ritual – though no easy division can be made between the three.

o  Politics
In chapter 6, it emerges that there are members of the church taking other members to court on account of defrauding.[5] While the economic issues cannot be ignored, the worldliness that Paul decries is the community’s failure to carry out the politics of justice and love that the church must now be known for. The church in Corinth has left political matters to the “unjust” system of the present age, which represents a negligence of their political vocation and witness.

o  Social Practices
Attendance at cultic meals was a regular practise in first-century Corinth, and helped to maintain social standing within the polis. The meat served at these occasions was “sacrificed to idols”, which created tension within the community. Some – perhaps the upper class who would have received regular invites to such meals[6] – insisted on their rights to continue this social norm because of their knowledge that “an idol is nothing at all in the world”.[7] Paul saw this language of rights as problematic for the community’s welfare and evidence that the Corinthians didn’t know as much as they thought they did about what it meant to be the church.

o  Ritual[8]
Just as “worldly” practises such as politics can be conducted in a spiritual manner, so “spiritual” practises can be conducted in an altogether worldly manner.[9] At the Lord’s table in Corinth, “one goes hungry, another gets drunk”[10] - evidence that the Corinthians may well have carried their class division from wider society into the church, with the upper-class hosts failing to properly share in the celebration with those from the lower classes. Disorder and boasting also permeated the elements of communal worship, with giftedness understood as cause for elitism and division.

In all these spheres – the political, the social, the ritual – the life of the Corinthian church looks as if it is still “of the flesh”. To the outsider looking on – an important person in the letter -- the status quo has merely been given a Christian flavour by the gospel. This worldliness is unacceptable for a church which Paul understood to be his “workmanship in the Lord.”[11] It is the root of this worldliness to which we now turn.

The Root of Worldliness: Knowledge as Power
“That the power of the Spirit to communicate [the ancient beauty of creation] anew is infinite is an article of faith; that human beings resist the Spirit with indefatigable ingenuity is the lesson of history.”[12] This is a lesson taught from the beginning of Christian history, with the church in Corinth as an unwitting typos.[13]

The argument of this essay is that the root of the problem for the church in Corinth has to do with knowledge.[14] We must be careful in what way we understand the word “knowledge” and its cognates, however. Paul was against a form of knowledge that prolonged class division, economic disparity and ethical complacency. We can describe this as “knowledge as power”.[15] For Paul, however, to know – that is, to know as the people of God ought to know – was a virtue. It was a way of being in the world grounded in God’s way of being in the world and in communion with God’s way of being in the world. In this way of being, to know is to love and to love is to know. To live in this way is to have “the mind of Christ”.[16] This is the argument of 1 Corinthians 1:18-2:16, an argument that calls for an “epistemological revolution.”[17]

As Healy writes of the Old Testament’s concept of knowledge –and by extension, Paul’s concept of knowledge -- “To know the Lord, or to be known by him, involves both understanding his will and acting accordingly.”[18] In the world created by the gospel, then, knowledge was not the potential pathway to obedience. Knowledge was obedience - the obedience of faith carried out by the Spirit-people.[19] The Corinthians’ failure to obey, therefore, is not their failure to apply the knowledge they had. Their failure was that they did not know as they ought to know. It was, in short, a failure to love; a failure to root their communal life – that is, their social, religious, economic, intellectual and political habits and practises -- in the love of God revealed by Christ in his death and resurrection.

It is therefore a subtle misconception to think of the letter to the Corinthians as Paul’s application of the gospel, with “ethics” understood as distinguishable from the good news of Christ. David Bentley Hart spells this out in no uncertain terms: “There is no autonomous sphere of ‘ethics’ in Christian thought, no simple index of duties to be discharged.”[20] Application or ethics of this sort too often appeals to our desire to fit the gospel into our pre-existing lives; to tag on “ethics” to a form of life that is essentially “of the flesh”, built on a foundation other than the gospel. Per contra, the gospel is not a disembodied message extracted from a sea of ethereal knowledge to be applied in the real world, but a new creation, a new form of life constituted by practices that are deeply countercultural yet in perfect accord with the kingdom of God that is displacing the kingdoms of this world.[21]

Hart writes: “The church cannot conceive of itself as an institution within a larger society, as a pillar of society, culture, and civic order, or as a spiritual association that commands an allegiance simply in addition to the allegiance its members owe the powers of the wider world.”[22]  This was precisely how the Corinthians perceived themselves, and it is this perception that Paul aimed to re-imagine.

The Cure: Knowledge and Power as Love
For Paul,
Christian theology contains within it an irreducible revolutionary possibility that ruptures with the predetermined co-ordinates of the world and offers an entirely new kind of political subject altogether….[T]heology provides a critical stance against the basic assumptions and ruling ideologies of this world.[23]
This critical stance, this new kind of political subject brought into being by the word concerning a crucified and resurrected king of the Jews was to be characterised by love, worked out not in the privacy of inner “spiritual” feeling but in a public and political spirituality that took seriously the church’s call to be a holy people[24] who exemplified the justice and wisdom of God in the world that the world could not know because of the offense of the cross – either as stumbling block or as foolishness.

As we look briefly at the political, social, and ritual issues above, we can take snapshots of how Paul set about fostering this society of the Spirit:

o  Politics
Paul’s argumentum a fortiori in chapter 6 is rooted in the identity and vocation of the church – an identity and vocation that, ironically, the Corinthians did “not know” (6:2 and 6:3). They are “the Lord’s people” – and therefore an eschatological people -- who are destined to judge the world.[25] The present is not a time to sit around and wait for that destiny; it is a time for the people of God to practise their alternative politics in front of a watching world. This is the politics of love, in which it is better to be wronged than to retaliate. In fact, Paul’s searching question, “Why not rather be wronged?” (6:7) anticipates his description of love in chapter 13 – “it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.”

o  Social Practices
For Paul, social practises were no longer a matter of rights but a matter of what is good for the society known as “church”. In light of the “weakness of God”,[26] the weak in the community have a status that the world cannot recognise but which the church must recognise. Each member of the church body must be seen as a “brother or sister for whom Christ died”.[27] “Love”, after all, “is not self-seeking,”[28] and so the church must become a community whose practices demonstrate mutuality, care and humility. Paul holds himself up as an example of one who triumphs the love of freedom with the freedom of love.[29] This triumph is what it means to know and share in the gospel, which is nothing less than a “resocialization” based on the community’s commitment to radical, concrete love.

o  Ritual
It is no coincidence that chapter 13 occurs during the discussion of the Corinthians’ ritual life of communal worship. The love described is the way in which the hymns, prophecy etc. must be practised if they are to be worthy of this called-out-community. Indeed, without love the elements of worship were utterly worthless in Paul’s eyes. This love is a matter of “discerning the body of Christ”. It involves each member of the body opening their eyes and seeing one another as those to whom they have been joined in Christ.

In all of these spheres of life Paul is attempting to convert the imaginations of the Corinthians to a revolutionary ecclesiological and eschatological[30] vision: a vision of the church as “no less than a politics, a society, another country, a new pattern of communal being meant not so much to complement the civic constitution of secular society as to displace it.”[31]

Paul’s approach to addressing the Corinthian worldliness can thus be summed up by the signpost to the letter’s most resplendent terrain: “Now I will show you a more excellent way”.[32] The way knowledge of God is known – and, specifically, the way Paul knew it – is indivisible from the content of that knowledge. Like is known by like. Christ can only be known by those who share in his form of life. Paul shared in that form by the power of the Spirit, and sharing in that form is thus what it means to be “spiritual.” Paul’s showing the church a more excellent way is therefore not exhausted by the beautiful poetry of 1 Corinthians 13. Coupled with these words, Paul has offered the Corinthians a life that they can imitate – that life is his own. Twice he urges them to imitate himself as he imitates Christ.[33] This is a bold exhortation, but such is Paul’s confidence in the power of the Spirit to transform the believer into the image of the crucified and resurrected Messiah, who – despite the world’s verdict on where power lies and what power looks like -- is the very power of God.[34]

As such, Paul himself stands as an educator of vision,[35] an example to behold and see not as “scum of the earth” as the world sees,[36] but as beauty, as spiritual. Yet above Paul stands Jesus, the perfect form of God’s glory,[37] the last Adam through whom we see the true shape of creation.[38] For the Corinthians to see rightly Paul could do no more than live faithfully, write truthfully, and entrust his workmanship to the power of the Spirit, who alone could cause their eyes to be opened so that they might see as Paul sees. 1 Corinthians thus represents Paul’s “seeing as”, his apostolic vision of the world now illuminated by the light of the crucified and resurrected Christ.[39]

This vision was the vision of God’s love as “the gift given”.[40] “What do you have that you did not receive?” is Paul’s crucial rhetorical question in chapter 4. Paul desires for the Corinthians to re-imagine their world as gift: their knowledge, their charismata, their rituals, their political and social life together – all these have been received. And received not only for the enjoyment of individual members, but for the welfare of the community. The gift of God made the community possible. It can only be sustained when the gifts that have been given by God are given again, one to another, in the S/spirit of faith, hope, and love.

Conclusion
In discerning the roots of Christian immaturity and the appropriate remedies we must take seriously Paul’s mistrust of any knowledge or wisdom or power divorced from the virtue of love; indeed, of any knowledge, wisdom, or power that is not a virtue itself. We must take seriously the apostle’s conviction that even our best knowledge is partial,[41] and that it is God’s knowledge rather than ours that saves.[42] We must not circumvent the primacy of love, for love alone is the way through which all Christian truth is grasped; indeed love is the very form and content of this truth.[43] It is the sin qua non of the church,[44] and must always be exemplified, nurtured, and witnessed to by those whom God has called out of the world in order to imitate the form of Christ by the power of the Spirit.

Christ’s pattern has been handed over and entrusted to the church as a project; he does not hover above history as an eschatological tension, a withdrawn possibility, an absence, or only a memory, but enters into history precisely in the degree that the church makes his story the essence of its practices.[45]




[1] Paul makes use of the language of “calling” in throughout the letter, but especially in the first chapter. E.g. 1:1-2; 1:9; 1:24; 1:26
[2] That is, the old world that is passing away, or what Walter Wink might call the “domination system”.
[3] Cf. R.A. Horsley, ‘1 Corinthians: A Case Study of Paul’s Assembly as an Alternative Society’, 247
[4] Cf. 1 Cor. 2:6
[5] Cf. 1 Cor. 6:7-8
[6] Cf. W.A. Meeks, The First Urban Christians, 68-72
[7] 1 Cor. 8:4. A similar argument was perhaps made by members of the community who wished to continue to sleep with temple prostitutes, considered at the time to be a normal social practice. “All things are lawful for me” (6:12) could be paraphrased as “I have a right to do whatever I want.”
[8] Ritual is used here to denote the church’s regular practise of the eucharist and the elements of communal worship – “a hymn, a lesson, a revelation, a tongue, or an interpretation.”
[9] The distinction between worldly and spiritual here is simply heuristic.
[10] 1 Cor. 11:21
[11] 1 Cor. 9:1
[12] D.B. Hart, The Beauty of the Infinite, 338
[13] Just as Israel provided a typos for the Corinthians, so the Corinthians provide a typos for the people of God today. Cf. 1 Cor. 10:1ff.
[14] As Healy notes, “Gnosis appears 16 times in 1-2 Corinthians; 7 elsewhere in Paul”. M. Healy, ‘Knowledge of the Mystery: A study of Pauline Epistemology’, 134.
[15] “Power” here is understood as the power to coerce, to crucify, to oppress, and to marginalise.
[16] 1 Cor. 2:16. Philippians 2 also equates this “mind of Christ” with the form of kenotic love. Cf. Phil. 2:5-8
[17] Cf. R.B. Hays, 1 Corinthians, 27: “Paul has taken the central event at the heart of the Christian story -- the death of Jesus -- and used it as the lens through which all human experience must be projected and thereby seen afresh. The cross becomes the starting point for an epistemological revolution.”
[18] Healy, 142, who cites Jer. 22:16; Ex. 33:17; Ps. 147:19f. as examples.
[19] Cf. K. Barth, Church Dogmatics II/1, 26: “Knowledge of God is obedience to God.”
[20] Hart, 339
[21] Theologically, the cause of Corinthian immaturity may be understood to be a diminished ecclesiology effected by an under-realized eschatology.  They failed to apprehend the nature of the kingdom of God which had come in the form of a servant and which had rendered the kingdoms of this world impotent. The failed to see the word of the cross as the word by which all other words and worlds have been judged, and by which the new world has come into being, with the church as its inhabitants and heralds.
[22] Hart, 339-340
[23] C. Davis, J. Milbank and S. Zizek, Paul’s New Moment, 2
[24] Cf. Horsley, 246
[25] 1 Cor. 6:2
[26] 1 Cor. 1:25
[27] 1 Cor. 8:11
[28] 1 Cor. 13:5
[29] Cf. 1 Cor. 9:19-23
[30] Here I follow Richard Hays in arguing against the Corinthians’ problem as being “overrealized eschatology”, for as Hays writes, “If Paul was seeking to correct the Corinthians’ overrealized eschatology, he committed a colossal pastoral blunder when he wrote to them later, in 2 Cor 6:2, ‘Now is the day of salvation.’” R.B. Hays, The Conversion of the Imagination, 21
[31] Hart, 340
[32] 1 Cor. 12:31
[33] 1 Cor. 4:16; 11:1
[34] This understanding of power given by Paul in the first major discourse of the letter helps interpret a crucial couplet of verses in chapter 4: “But I will come to you soon, if the Lord wills, and I will find out not the talk of these arrogant people but their power. For the kingdom of God does not consist in talk but in power.” 1  Cor. 4:19-20
[35] Cf. Hart, 265: “[T]he moral task is to love because one truly sees and to see because one truly loves: to educate vision to see the glory of this particular one.”
[36] 1 Cor. 4:13
[37] Cf. 1 Cor. 2:8
[38] “Christian morality is a labour of vision – to see the form of Christ, to see all creation as having been recapitulated in him, and to see in all other persons the possibility of discerning and adoring Christ’s form in a new fashion.” Hart, 342
[39] Cf. C.B. Cousar, ‘The Theological Task of 1 Corinthians’, 91-92: “The theological intent of the letter is to confront the readers with an alternative way of viewing reality, specifically an alternative way of viewing God, the Christian community, and the future.” [emphasis mine]
[40] Hart, 394
[41] Cf. 1 Cor. 13:9
[42] Commenting on 1 Cor. 8:3, Hays writes: “…what counts is not so much our knowledge of God as God’s knowledge of us. That is the syntax of salvation.” Hays, 1 Corinthians, 138
[43] “For Christian thought...delight is the premise of any sound epistemology....Only in loving creation’s beauty – only in seeing that creation truly is beauty – does one apprehend what creation is.” Hart, 253
[44] Cf. 1 Cor. 13:2; John 13:35
[45] Hart, 340

Friday, July 6, 2012

A Paragraph For the Soul

The key to the obedience of God's people is not their effectiveness but their patience. The triumph of the right is assured not by the might that comes to the aid of the right, which is of course the justification of the use of violence and other kinds of power in every human conflict. The triumph of the right, although it is assured, is sure because of the power of the resurrection and not because of any calculation of causes and effects, nor because of the inherently greater strength of the good guys. The relationship between the obedience of God's people and the triumph of God's cause is not a relationship of cause and effect but one of cross and resurrection.

This is vintage Yoder; a paragraph that sums up his work as good as any other.

I just spent a week at a junior teens camp, during which I gave three what might be loosely called "theological talks". Afterwards I would ask myself questions like "Did that have any effect?" and "Did I just make up some new words?" and "Their eyes were closed because they were in deep thought, right?"

But if Yoder is right, then I am asking the wrong questions. If I was obedient to the task that was given me, if I was faithful to the gospel, then efficacy is irrelevant. I must only be patient.


Thursday, July 5, 2012

If It's A Lie...

I've watched The Wire three times now. That's 60 episodes, each averaging an hour, multiplied by 3. That's over a week of my life devoted solely to watching a television show.

And what a television show.

Every time I watch The Wire, I get some new perspective on what it's all about.

"It's about who the real targets are."

"It's about the hierarchy within institutions."

"It's about the machine that is the modern polis."

"It's about the futility of the war on drugs."

"It's about the possibility and impossibility of reform."

"I've been reading way too much into things. It's just about cops and gangsters and stuff."

Right now, my perspective is that it's about the politics and power of the lie. Without giving too much away [though you may want to cease reading just in case], in season 5 McNulty fabricates a story, a lie that eventually becomes known to the highest powers in the city. What started out small, barely worthy of a few inches in the newspaper, becomes a national story that everyone buys into. When it is revealed to the powers that be as a hoax, what happens? Does the lie get exposed? Does the truth set them free? Is McNulty, the originator of the lie, punished?

In McNulty's words, the lie is to big for them to live with it. To expose it would be to expose themselves. Campaigns, promotions, promises, policies - all of these were based on a lie. Even those who want the right thing to be done are content to keep schtum, because any whisteblowing would have devastating effects for the careers of their loved ones. The lie is built into the fabric of society, and so the truth cannot be made known without serious repercussions, without serious cost. And no one who matters is willing to pay.

The Wire is a tragedy of Greek proportions, but it does not leave us without glimmers of hope. There are still those few who are committed to the truth, and who will tell it even if it hurts. The Wire itself is an act of such telling, and as you may have guessed, I can't recommend strongly enough that you listen.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

The horror...the horror

After taking over a village in Vietnam, the Unites States Army decided to demonstrate its humanitarian intentions by employing its medics to inoculate the children of the village for polio. The military occupation didn't last, however, with the village re-captured by the Vietcong soon after. Upon reclaiming the territory, the Vietcong amputated the left arm of all the children who received the vaccination. One medial procedure counteracted by another.

Slavoj Zizek and Colonel Kurtz tell this story that is probably distasteful and inhumane to those of us of a particular conscience. What might seem more inhumane, however, is that both Zizek and Kurtz tell the story in admiration of the Vietcong. In Kurtz's words:

"...the genius of that! The genius! The will to do that! Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure."


Zizek is not as gushing with his praise as the fictional colonel, but nevertheless sees in this act of the Vietcong the purity of genuine revolution:

"Although difficult to sustain as a literal model to follow, this thorough rejection of the Enemy precisely in its helping ‘humanitarian' aspect, no matter what the costs, has to be endorsed in its basic intention."

To compromise, so the thinking goes, is to be already dead. Better to enter village life with only one arm than to keep both at the cost of sacrificing your soul. The wisdom of this should be quite clear to those of us of a particular conscience.

By way of pigeon-holing, this story creates three types of Christians:

1) Christians who reject the vaccinations of the Empire

2) Christians who accept the vaccinations of the Empire

3) Christians who see it as their duty to administer the vaccinations of the Empire

Historically, has Christianity moved from (1) to (2) to (3), or has there been, from the beginning, a mixture of the three?

And for those of you who want to help me with my dissertation next year, what role does second-century apologetics have in this history? If you could keep your comment just below 9,000 words that would be particularly helpful.

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

The Insider

I'll leave it to ol' blind Buchie to sum up the story of truth-telling told by The Insider:

Conscience do cost.

The Insider may not have the repeat-viewing capacity of Heat, but this Michael Mann film is easily a top 20, possibly even a top 10. That it lost out to the utterly vacuous American Beauty for the Best Picture Oscar is a crying shame. I mean, that's like Shakespeare in Love getting the nod over The Thin Red Line, which would of course have been complete nonsense if it ha [gets word in ear that that in fact did happen the previous year].

These are end times, people. End times.

Friday, June 8, 2012

Like Crazy



Plato pitted rationality against desire and passion, with the latter needing to be harnessed by the former. Pascal said that "the heart has reasons that Reason cannot know", elevating love to a higher epistemological plane than rationality. Brokeback Mountain advertised love as a "force of nature" - uncontrollable, like a hurricane, impartial with regard to who it comes upon and apathetic to the suffering it may cause. Damned if you deny it. Just as damned if you don't.

Into this ongoing story of love stepped Like Crazy, a film about transatlanticism that would never leave the two lovers alone. But rather than absence making the heart grow fonder, their repeated absences only makes them needier, less trusting and trustworthy. What began as a source of vitality degenerates into a deadly disease eating away at their souls. The love portrayed cannot be lived without and cannot be lived with. It is at once keeping alive and killing.

The film does a reasonable job of telling this canonical trope, with love not so much being care for another as it is addiction to another, the love story resembling the efforts of two junkies desperately chasing that same high that made them who they are. It doesn't hurt that one of those junkies is the beautiful Felicity Jones, who also played the love interest in Cemetery Junction. Jennifer Lawrence is in this film too - a fact definitely worth mentioning. I also like that the man's job in this film is furniture making. It's a nice reminder that it's okay for a man not to have to wear a suit to work.

I can't say I was emotionally moved by the film, however. I'm not averse to crying in front of moving pictures, but this one elicited no tears, no strong desire for how the story should end. I never quite entered the lovers' solipsistic world. How could I?

One final note: the actors apparently improvised much of the dialogue to give the film an air of realism. I wonder if it works like that? As Ian McKellen explained in Extras, acting is pretending to be something you are not. Improvising could be described as pretending not to be an actor, which amounts to a double pretence. Does that make things more real or less? I suppose the proof is in the pudding, so you'll just have to see for yourself.

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Countercultural Cult

The Westboro Baptist Church has been a source of discomfort for me for the last number of years. It’s not because I’m a target of their hatred, at least not directly. It’s not even because I’m deeply troubled by what they do – picketing the funerals of dead soldiers, spreading a message of God’s impending judgement on a sinful people. Of course I agree with neither their message nor their methods, but that’s not where the tension lies. The tension lies in the fact that in an age when the church strives to be countercultural, I can think of few "churches" more countercultural than the Westboro Baptist Church. Their apocalyptic worldview, millenarian ethics and communal life together strike me as far closer to the form of the early church than most others in the West today. 

It is my judgement that they are not “the most hated family in America” because the content of their message deeply upsets us. We don’t care all that much for the feelings of Jews, gays, or the families of dead soldiers, and are certainly not overly concerned with what a crazy fundamentalist family from the States thinks about them. Rather, we hate the Westboro Baptist Church because they refuse to play by the unwritten rules of free speech, which say that you are free to speak provided what you speak is in accordance with what we’d like you to speak about. We hate them because their voices are free, whereas ours are so enslaved to a form of tolerance that has been imposed on us.

Slavoj Zizek had this to say in a lecture: “If you take the ruling ideology seriously you are one step from being a dissident.” This is precisely what the Westboro Baptist Church have done, and so it is little wonder that they are hated. They are so cultural that they are countercultural. They have taken “freedom of speech” too seriously, and are thus as much liberal democratic heretics as they are Christian heretics. 

To be an enemy of the liberal democratic state is not necessarily a bad thing. Indeed the problem with the countercultural movement in contemporary churches is that people too often try to make the church countercultural within the limits set by the culture, which amounts to nothing countercultural at all. And any voice that would seek to introduce a new set of co-ordinates is labelled as “prophetic”, which usually means that what you’re saying is good, but unrealistic.

The Westboro Baptist Church is wrong on so many levels, but they are right on one very crucial matter: they take their god seriously. More than anything else, it is this that discomforts me.