Friday, September 9, 2011

Hope and Newness

Kester Brewin and Peter Rollins have been blogging this week about radicals and conservatives. Kester briefly lays out the terms:
"Perhaps a radical is someone who does believe that newness, genuine newness, is possible. Whereas a conservative is perhaps someone who believes that new expressions are possible, but these are only reformulations of old things – and thus the old is preserved, even if it is reformed."
The world in which I live believes newness is impossible: I am surrounded by fans of Solomon, continually quoting "There is nothing new under the sun" in response to my wistful pleas. The upside of this perspective is [perhaps forced] contentment with things as they are, and commitment to working within what is known and accepted. It's a safer and more grounded perspective, anchored in what is known and proven - and, quite frankly, (from a theological perspective, at least) it's more easily and convincingly defended.

On the other hand, this perspective absolutely quenches my hope. If I look around me and assume that anything good I might hope for will have to come from what already is, the flatness of potentiality is devastating. I want desperately to believe the words of the prophet: "Behold, I am making all things new." (Rev. 21:5) And I want to believe that newness isn't just a characteristic of the afterlife. I want to also believe the Gospel writers who wrote about "new wine", and the writers of the epistles who spoke of "new creation." Not to mention Jesus, who ushered in both a "new commandment" and a "new covenant."

I understand that roots are important, and that we stand on the shoulders of those who have gone before. I don't question my indebtedness to the Desert Fathers and Mothers, or to the medieval mystics John and Theresa. I wouldn't be the person I am without the influence of my Mennonite ancestors, or of my faithful parents. But just as undeniable are the few remarkable occasions in my life when something completely broke and then was transformed. Out of emptiness, out of the rupture of all that had been, was born something radically new. You could argue (and many do) that the "new" thing was in fact linked to something very old, and on some levels you would be right. On the other hand, I inhabited both the former and the latter - and I can tell you, categorically, that the new truly is new. I couldn't have gotten here from there without a radical change, without the gift of something breaking in and utterly transforming that which had been into that which now is.

Pete writes,
"Thus both the radical and the conservative are interested in the past, but in different ways. One thinks that the past must continue to be brought into the present while the other thinks the past is a womb from which an utterly new event can arise..."
My hope is with the radicals.

1 comment:

  1. The ways of the kingdom of God point to a new hope... a new heaven and a new earth, and it is at least a partial reality at this time. Here and now.

    I dare suggest followers of Jesus prefer the less sacrificial road of conservation over holding to a hope that defies the world since it feeds into our selfish selves of self-preservation & self-worship.

    Believing, hoping, and living into a different reality costs us a great deal, and has the potential to lead us deeper into an alternative story (the gospel). Conserving the past without a great hope for today & tomorrow don't create a compelling story. [i.e.] More people are poor in America today than last year - not too compelling of a story. On the other hand, a story of sacrifice for the sake of neighbor could change that statistic. We just don't want the cost associated with it.

    You've given me plenty to think about today... thanks.

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