Stirred, not Shaken (part 2 of 2)

In the 18th and 19th centuries, continental theologians were developing a theological framework that focused on “the mighty acts of God.” Scripture, and the Old Testament especially, was interpreted through the lens of a series of mighty acts of salvation that God accomplished in consummating the divine plan.

Building upon this conceptual framework, extending it into the future rather than focusing on the Old Testament past, the apocalypticism of the late 19th century and early 20th century built an end-time theology based on God acting as publicly and mightily at the end of time as he did at the beginning of salvation history. Dispensationalism (the best known and most mainstream apocalyptic theology) involves lots of smiting, destruction, and judgment. In the original version of Jehovah’s Witness teaching (a theological cousin to Dispensationalism) only 144,000 specially chosen and worthy Christians would escape the serious divine end-time smiting. These two theological frameworks (“the mighty acts of God” framework and the apocalyptic theologies that followed in the next generation) are certainly both “shaken, not stirred.” (See the previous essay to understand the James Bond reference.)

But I would argue that salvation is far more banal than all that. Even if you exclude from consideration the girls, gambling, and gin, it is George Smiley, not James Bond, who is closer in character to Jesus Christ.

Now that I’ve read le Carré’s Karla trilogy, I can tell you – in retrospect – that the discovery and defeat of double agent was spectacular, and George Smiley’s dogged persistence which ultimately led to the demise of Karla, the Russian master spy, was really quite dazzling. But I can only say such things in retrospect. The trilogy itself remains stubbornly stilted, pedantic, and yes, even banal.

So it was with Jesus.

John the Baptist, while in prison, was having serious second thoughts about Jesus. Messiahs are supposed to function with the Mighty Arm of God, after all. Jesus was but a Lamb being led to slaughter. In fact, the crowd, who sensed a “shaken, not stirred” moment on Palm Sunday – Jesus riding into Jerusalem sort of like a king – ultimately failed to recognize Jesus as their Messiah because they were expecting the heavens to be torn open and the Kingdom to come down like a shining light that everyone would see … or at the very least, for the Messiah to smite the Romans, as well as the religious leaders who cooperated with them. Everyone knows real salvation involves smiting! Instead Jesus told them his Kingdom was not of this world, and went off to a hilltop to pray … and then off to the other hill to die an ignominious death.

Banal.

I suspect this is why we fail to see the growth of the Kingdom of God today. We’re looking for mighty arms and mightier acts. We’re flitting from church to church looking for one that’s shaken, not just stirred. Instead what we get is a bunch of George Smiley Christians doddering about, polishing their spectacles on the big end of their neck tie.

Only in the end … only after the end … do we realize that this is a magnificent story that it is breathtaking in its magnitude.

But for those who have ears to hear, they realize that Hannah Arendt and John le Carré said far more than they even knew. Salvation, like evil and greatness, is banal, except in retrospect. It’s why it’s so hard to recognize in the mighty midst of the here and now.

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4 thoughts on “Stirred, not Shaken (part 2 of 2)

  1. snip …
    We’re flitting from church to church looking for one that’s shaken, not just stirred. Instead what we get is a bunch of George Smiley Christians doddering about, polishing their spectacles on the big end of their neck tie.
    … snip

    So I’m curious, is this your opinion of Presbyterian or Protestant preaching?

    “polishing our spectacles on the big end of our necktie” ???

    • Your comment is a bit oblique and based on an obscure reference in the essay. Hopefully I understand the comment. If I do, I’m delighted that you caught my very obscure reference to Calvin’s description of scripture as spectacles. Of course, if anyone would catch it, it would be you.

      To clue everyone else in: In the novel, George Smiley is always polishing his eyeglasses on the large end of his necktie, but le Carre always uses the term “eyeglasses,” not “spectacles.” When I quoted him, I used the term spectacles because it made for an interesting allusion to the church in general.

      I didn’t have preaching in mind, but it’s not a bad metaphor. Calvin calls scripture spectacles because they bring God’s Word into focus. In turn, preaching clears up scripture, translating it from the time it was written into the present context, so “polishing our spectacles on the big end of our necktie” isn’t a bad metaphor for preaching.

      So yes, I’ll own up to it (although I didn’t have it in mind when I wrote it) and claim that it’s a description of all preaching. But maybe in an Orthodox context, the preacher is polishing the spectacles on his orarion or something like that.

    • Woo hoo! Actually it’s interesting you mention this now. I’ve been working and reworking another series of essays the last week and a half that deal with the same theme.

      Thanks

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