A Sense of Place?
R.R. Reno has an excellent essay over at First Things. It's one of those essays that reminds you that while an argument seems to be over and done, there are still some very smart people pulling you back to the table, presenting things in an old (but not stale) and penetrating way. The debate? Patriotism.
As Reno mentions, much more profoundly than I ever could, it's chic right now to criticize nationalism, especially American patriotism. I have made such critiques on this blog and in my sermons. But Reno reminds us--quite well--that there is something true and beautiful in every culture--which is why the kings of the earth bring their splendour into the New Jerusalem--and so there is something that is worth loving in every culture, as well. Because of this, there is something worth fighting for in every culture. I can agree with Reno up to this point.
However, the beginning of Reno's essay makes me uneasy and its conclusion confirms this uneasiness. Reno says that G.K. Chesterton was a sucker for "romantic" images, like soldiers with swords crossed and flags rippling in the wind. Indeed, who has seen battle scenes from Lord of the Rings and not been moved? But what Reno cites approvingly gives me chills, because the images he mentions are people against people, not Elves against Orcs. They are people against people, not good vs. evil. Tolkien's pictures can be moving, inspiring even, precisely because they are fantasy. When it becomes all too real it ceases being romantic and becomes something brutal, awful, and destructive--even if one believes, as I do, one can engage in war Christianly. If one can see this image as romantic, then one has been lured, I think, into seeing why war is so seductive.
My uneasiness as Reno concludes, "In genuine patriotism, we give ourselves away to our roots—not unequivocally, not uncritically, not without reserve, but really and without hedging our bets. All our flags are corrupted by sin, but when we salute them, we prepare the heart for a deeper, life-abandoning salute to the cross and abandonment to God." Once Reno has described abandonment to God as "deeper" than patriotism, he has put them in the same category, just a different levels. Abandonment to God is what allows me to re-categorize all other commitments. It is not devotion to country that prepares my devotion to God; it is my devotion to God that enables proper devotion to country. It is loving God *before* any and all else--country, family, self--that enables proper loving of self, family, country possible, even responsible. Loyalty to God makes any kind of loyalty to country Christian because it means that the one to whom my first allegiance is given constructs and enables any and all other expressions of loyalty.
As Reno mentions, much more profoundly than I ever could, it's chic right now to criticize nationalism, especially American patriotism. I have made such critiques on this blog and in my sermons. But Reno reminds us--quite well--that there is something true and beautiful in every culture--which is why the kings of the earth bring their splendour into the New Jerusalem--and so there is something that is worth loving in every culture, as well. Because of this, there is something worth fighting for in every culture. I can agree with Reno up to this point.
However, the beginning of Reno's essay makes me uneasy and its conclusion confirms this uneasiness. Reno says that G.K. Chesterton was a sucker for "romantic" images, like soldiers with swords crossed and flags rippling in the wind. Indeed, who has seen battle scenes from Lord of the Rings and not been moved? But what Reno cites approvingly gives me chills, because the images he mentions are people against people, not Elves against Orcs. They are people against people, not good vs. evil. Tolkien's pictures can be moving, inspiring even, precisely because they are fantasy. When it becomes all too real it ceases being romantic and becomes something brutal, awful, and destructive--even if one believes, as I do, one can engage in war Christianly. If one can see this image as romantic, then one has been lured, I think, into seeing why war is so seductive.
My uneasiness as Reno concludes, "In genuine patriotism, we give ourselves away to our roots—not unequivocally, not uncritically, not without reserve, but really and without hedging our bets. All our flags are corrupted by sin, but when we salute them, we prepare the heart for a deeper, life-abandoning salute to the cross and abandonment to God." Once Reno has described abandonment to God as "deeper" than patriotism, he has put them in the same category, just a different levels. Abandonment to God is what allows me to re-categorize all other commitments. It is not devotion to country that prepares my devotion to God; it is my devotion to God that enables proper devotion to country. It is loving God *before* any and all else--country, family, self--that enables proper loving of self, family, country possible, even responsible. Loyalty to God makes any kind of loyalty to country Christian because it means that the one to whom my first allegiance is given constructs and enables any and all other expressions of loyalty.
4 Comments:
Hi Aaron,
Thanks for alerting me to this article. I agree; it touches on some of the themes of our discussion awhile back. (The loss of which, when my blog crashed, really bums me out, btw...)
I agree with you on the way Reno categorizes war as "romantic." I'm not sure whether I agree with your last paragraph. I understand you to be saying that love of God and love of country are different not only in degree, but in kind. I'll have to chew on that for awhile.
Reno's essay reminded me of this line from Wendell Berry: "'Every man for himself' is a doctrine for a feeding frenzy or for a panic in a burning nightclub, appropriate for sharks or hogs or perhaps a cascade of lemmings. A society wishing to endure must speak the language of care-taking, faith-keeping, kindness, neighborliness, and peace."
Hi Janet,
Indeed, I do believe that loving God is a different kind of love than loving people. If it was not of a different kind, then all my love must be spent on God, with nothing left for others. Instead, love for God is what orders and enables all my other loves, which must necessarily be ordered if Berry's desired society is to have any chance of success because humans have a finite ability to love. My favourite theologian, Oliver O'Donovan, uses the analogy of a lemonade stand for love. Imagine loving others as serving lemonade. You never serve God lemonade, but only those he brings into line and he always has the option of closing shop and inspecting the books.
Hmm... So you have a zero-sum theory of love?
I don't "get" the lemonade analogy. But I do see in scripture that Jesus puts love for God and love for others as close together as possible, love for God coming first, but not being different -- at least, not being different enough that offering a cup of water to "the least of these" disqualifies it from being an offering to God himself.
Hi Janet,
Any tangible expression of love for people is different from love for God because people need love--and expressions of love--whereas God does not. I do not love God first by giving God more water or by serving God a drink of water first. I love God by ordering my (limited) love properly. This is not a zero-sum theory because the source of love, God himself, ensures that it is not. However, it is a recognition that tangible expressions of love are always limited in humans because humans are limited.
Once I recognize that my love for God is necessarily tied to my love for others, it is a natural conclusion that is it different in kind. If it were not different in kind, then my actions of love for God would "compete" with my love for others. Perhaps an analogy from parenting will help. Mutual self-giving love between two individuals produces a third person. This is the model for family. The parents love each other first for the sake of loving the child. The relationship between parents is meant, in part, to be the source of their love for the child. In this way, one loves their child by developing a strong relationship with his/her spouse. One's love for their child is not separate from their love for their spouse, but it is different. (Of course this analogy breaks down because all participants are human--and spouses will compete with children for limited resources that express one parent's love, whereas God is the ultimate source of all love.)
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