In the March 2010 20th Anniversary issue of ‘First Things’, the journal reprinted Lutheran theologian Robert Jenson’s article, “How the World Lost Its Story”. The entire article is here: http://www.firstthings.com/article/2010/03/how-the-world-lost-its-story It’s worth the read. I will sum up the article with further emphases of other reflections from Jenson that have stuck in memory from his lectures. I will also give some of my insights for what their worth. His insights in this article, and in the aforementioned lectures, are quite cogent and need to be heard because of the response the Church can make, indeed must make courageously in these dark days
A favorite comedy movie that I watched many times with our children growing up was “George of the Jungle”. Throughout the movie there is a Narrator and so narration to keep the plot line moving. When the two ne’er-do-wells have kidnapped Ape (a talking one, voice: John Cleese) and are hauling Ape in his cage, the Narrator makes disparaging comments about these two ape-nappers. One of them looks up and says in effect, ‘I’m so sick and tired of you always butting in. Why don’t you shut up?!’ The other rogue says, ‘Be quiet! You shouldn’t argue with the Narrator!’ ‘That’s right’, says the Narrator in a booming voice and then the earth shakes. Jenson diagnoses the problem that ‘George of the Jungle’ winks at: no longer arguing with the Narrator but ‘living’ in a world without a Narrator and therefore a coherent narration: a story without a plot-line in a post-modern world.
Intro: Post-Enlightenment modernism still was a world that was narrated and coherent even if it was contraryto the church and Christianity. Why? How?
“There is no mystery about how Western modernity came by this supposition. The supposition is straightforwardly a secularization of Jewish and Christian practice—as indeed these are the source of most key suppositions of Western intellectual and moral life. The archetypical body of realistic narratives is precisely the Bible, and the realistic narratives of Western modernity have every one been composed in, typically quite conscious, imitation of biblical narrative.” (emphasis my own)
Jenson writes this is basically the Biblical basis of Western literature. There is narration which is intelligible. There is meaning in our lives. I add that the Scriptures are a meta-narrative: a beginning, middle and an end, because there is the Narrator, from Creation to the coming of the Kingdom.
“Modernity was defined by the attempt to live in a universal story without a universal storyteller. The experiment failed. It is, after the fact, obvious that I had to: If there is no universal storyteller, the universe can have no story line.” (emphasis my own)
This then is post-modernism: no Narrator (even one to shake one’s fist at!) and so no story line. At one time it was simply fashionable to argue with the Narrator: now the Narrator no longer exists and with it the narration. As Nietzsche pronounced: God is dead. But even the progress inherent in Nietzsche’s uber-mensch, over-man or super-man to put meaning on the chaos is no longer possible. There is no progress. Even to say “life is one damned thing after another” still implies an ordered universe: because for something to be “damned” implies morality and a universal Judge.
Diagnoses of the Problem: But, “Postmodernism is characterized by the loss of this supposition (that is, there is a coherent and meaningful story line) in all its aspects.”(See quote above) The problem, wrote Jenson is seen in both “story” and “promise”.
a. Story: There is no longer in a post-modern world a world that is narratable and coherent because of post-modernism’s rejection of even an implicit Biblical narration. The only story is that there is none. Jenson points out this can be seen in literature, especially existentialism, e.g. Sartre’s, Nausea, No Exit and Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. In modern art: it’s all about the forms on the canvas. Truly, ars gratia artis. Or as he points out about his students and others:
“…one of my suburban Minnesota students whose reality is rock music, his penis, and at the very fringes some awareness that to support both of these medical school might be nice; a New York street dude; the pillar of her congregation who one day casually reveals that of course she believes none of it, that her Christianity is a relativistic game that could easily be replaced altogether by some other religion or yoga—all inhabit a world of which no stories can be true.”
Or in very similar vein as a colleague and mentor of mine, Pr. Louis Smith (of blessed memory) observed to me one day: “Notice how many times in any discussion these days how key sentences invariably begin with , “I feel…” or “This is how I feel…” Why? There is no post-modern authority outside of the self: it’s all been deconstructed. And notice how this crops up, I would hazard to guess, even in a conservative church and Bible study, “Well, this is the way I feel about (fill-in-the-blank)” Jenson also points out that in denominational, especially generic Protestant endeavors to “reach out”, “evangelize”, that we presuppose the folks we are speaking to recognize logical meaning inherent to living in a narratable world, “Indeed, many do not know that anyone ever did.”
b. Promise: the lack of any kind of promise, or as I have entitled this review, “Our world without end…” without an ending, a fulfillment, and that is, says Jenson, sheer hopelessness. Indeed going back to “without God and hope in the world” (cf. Ephesians 2: 11—13):
“Promises, in the postmodern world, are inauthentic simply because they are promises, because they commit a future that is not ours to commit… The impossibility of promises is there our daily experience. And in this matter, we have a paradigm case, in which the whole situation is instantly manifest and which I need only name. There is a human promise that is the closest possible creaturely approach to unconditional divine promise, and that is therefore throughout Scripture the chosen analog of divine promise: the marital promise of faithfulness unto death. Among us, that promise has become a near impossibility, socially, morally, and even legally.”
Prognosis: It is a grim diagnosis but I think an accurate one and his response is Biblical and confessional.
In a similar vein to this article, in a lecture Jenson pointed out that the liberal dictum in the church used to, “The world sets the agenda for the Church” which meant it’s problems dictated the course and action of the church, not the narration of the Word of God in Scripture. But Jenson said, the flip does not work: the church sets the agenda for the world. No, he said, the church’s story is the agenda of the world. From the article:
“The obvious answer is that if the church does not find her hearers antecedently inhabiting a narratable world, then the church must herself be that world.
The church has in fact had great experience of just this role. One of many analogies between postmodernity and dying antiquity—in which the church lived for her most creative period—is that the late antique world also insisted on being a meaningless chaos, and that the church had to save her converts by offering herself as the narratable world within which life could be lived with dramatic coherence. Israel had been the nation that lived a realistic narrative amid nations that lived otherwise; the church offered herself to the gentiles as their Israel. The church so constituted herself in her liturgy.
For the ancient church, the walls of the place of Eucharist, whether these were the walls of a basement or of Hagia Sophia or of an imaginary circle in the desert, enclosed a world. And the great drama of the Eucharist was the narrative life of that world. Nor was this a fictive world, for its drama is precisely the “real” presence of all reality’s true author, elsewhere denied. The classic liturgical action of the church was not about anything else at all; it was itself the reality about which truth could be told.
In the postmodern world, if a congregation or churchly agency wants to be “relevant,” here is the first step: it must recover the classic liturgy of the church, in all its dramatic density, sensual actuality, and brutal realism, and make this the one exclusive center of its life. In the postmodern world, all else must at best be decoration and more likely distraction.
Out there-and that is exactly how we must again begin to speak of the society in which the church finds itself-there is no narratable world. But absent a narratable world, the church’s hearers cannot believe or even understand the gospel story-or any other momentous story. If the church is not herself a real, substantial, living world to which the gospel can be true, faith is quite simply impossible.”
For instance: the Orthodox Church in Constantinople fell to Islam in 1453 and remained under formal subjection until in the 1920s (even today it is severely prescribed). The church could not have schools, for instance. How did it teach? Answer: the liturgy. It is said of Protestant churches that “we begin our meetings with prayer and our worship services with announcements.” I suppose this is a small point but it does point out a big problem. The Orthodox liturgy of St. John Chrysostom begins with, “Blessed is the kingdom of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, now and forever and to the ages of ages.” There is a sense that one is entering the world as it shall be and everything therein should reflect the hope we have in the Lord. We have an entrance hymn by which we enter into the Presence. But Jenson cautions,
“Polemical point one: the story is not your story or my story or “his-story” or “her-story” or some neat story someone read or made up. The story of the sermon and of the hymns and of the processions and of the sacramental acts and of the readings is to be God’s story, the story of the Bible. Preachers are the greatest sinners here: the text already is and belongs to the one true story, it does need to be helped out in this respect. What is said and enacted in the church must be with the greatest exactitude and faithfulness and exclusivity the story of creation and redemption by the God of Israel and Father of the risen Christ. As we used to say: Period.” (emphasis my own)
I think this is being faithful to the Confessions and the Gottesdienst, but not ‘rubrics for rubrics sake’, but the Lord lets His Word shine forth in these dark days through the leitourgia. A liturgy is not the continuation of the world inside a church building, but a discontinuation with the world with the Word for the sake of the world, for us and for our salvation. The Liturgy is not a rock concert with a few alleluias thrown in, nor is it a museum piece of liturgical antiquity. It is the living voice of the Word of God, the Lord come to us in His Word and Sacraments: it is the Biblical narrative. And it is not concocted by us to ‘reach’ people. Liturgy is real as the Author is real.
Further, the prognosis for the Promise is, writes Jenson, the eschatological hope: there will be fulfillment. Tellingly, Jenson observes:
“First and most obviously, preaching and teaching and hymns and prayers and processions and sacramental texts must no longer be shy about describing just what the gospel promises, what the Lord has in store. Will the city’s streets be paved with gold? Modernity’s preaching and teaching—and even its hymnody and sacramental texts—hastened to say, “Well, no, not really.” And having said that, it had no more to say. In modern Christianity’s discourse, the gospel’s eschatology died the death of a few quick qualifications.
The truly necessary qualification is not that the City’s streets will not be paved with real gold, but that gold as we know it is not real gold, such as the City will be paved with. What is the matter with gold anyway? Will goldsmiths who gain the Kingdom have nothing to do there? To stay with this one little piece of the vision, our discourse must learn again to revel in the beauty and flexibility and integrity of gold, of the City’s true gold, and to say exactly why the world the risen Jesus will make must of course be golden, must be and will be beautiful and flexible and integral as is no earthly city. And so on and on.”
And I say that the Church must reclaim, for instance, the last book of the Bible, The Apocalypse, as it is written: simultaneously eschatological and liturgical.
“Polemical point two: modern Christianity, i.e., Protestantism, has regularly substituted slogans for narrative, both in teaching and in liturgy. It has supposed that hearers already knew they had a story and even already knew its basic plot, so that all that needed to be done was to point up certain features of the story—that it is “justifying,” or “liberating,” or whatever. The supposition was always misguided, but sometimes the church got away with it. In the postmodern world, this sort of preaching and teaching and liturgical composition merely expresses the desperation of those who in their meaningless world can believe nothing but vaguely wish they could.”
So all the synodical and denominational programs for institutional survival piled all together can not address at all the anomie and anonymous life of a post-modern “Wasteland” (T.S. Eliot). For instance: We live in a culture in which the only ‘sacrament’ is hooking-up. This is why every Protestant Church body in the nation is a graveyard of past enthusiasms and why they don’t work. We think they do as sop to feel like we are doing something to feel good that we’ve done something, in fact, anything, but it is a fact: whom we think we are reaching are not being reached.
Further, I add: this kind of sloganeering indicates tragically the sin of sloth when it comes to a central mission entrusted to the Church by her Lord: teaching/catechesis. We can be all afire about making disciples but forgetting that the operative verb to make disciples is “teach”. This is the work of the Church but we look for easy ways out with programs. We look for easy ways out and results much less astounding than predicted. It is not about programs but the Promise. The LCMS is maybe of all church bodies that are called ‘Protestant’ the one most adept at catechesis because of it’s schools and the rich tradition of the Word as clearly taught by Luther in his Catechisms.. Further CPH has published and is publishing a type of Lutheran Confessional renaissance: Treasury of Daily Prayer, The Lutheran Study Bible, more translations of Luther’s Works, etc. I think Professors and Pastors Arthur Just and David Scaer have convincingly demonstrated, for instance, that the Gospels of Luke and Matthew, were and are catechetical in nature and composition.
We have out work cut out for us: by the Lord. In another lecture on restoring the historic catuchemenate, Dr. Jenson reminded us that in the first centuries of the Church, the boundary line between paganism and the life and culture of the Church was clearly demarcated. The Church took her time catechizing, (as did St. Luke for Theophilus and others) for this transition. But, Dr. Jenson, remarked that in our day, the problem is there are many people who think they know what Christianity is and that makes teaching difficult in a different way. And so in the love of Christ to teach the way of the Lord more accurately is part of our evangelization.
The response is Word and Sacrament but more specifically: Catechesis and Leitourgia. We are to let our good works shine in the darkness. And as a Roman Catholic theologian said: if people are stumbling in the darkness, should we not use the flashlights given us?
I want Dr. Jenson to have the last word:
“Because Jesus lives to triumph, there will be the real Community, with its real Banquet in its real City amid its real Splendor, as no penultimate community or banquet or city or splendor is really just and loving or tasty or civilized or golden. The church has to rehearse that sentence in all her assemblings, explicitly and in detail.
Second, the church’s assemblies must again become occasions of seeing. We are told by Scripture that in the Kingdom this world’s dimness of sight will be replaced by, as the old theology said it, “beatific vision.” It is a right biblical insight that God first of all speaks and that our community with him and each other is first of all that we hear him and speak to him. It does not, however, follow, as Protestantism has made it follow, that to listen and speak we must blind ourselves. In this age, accurate hearing is paired with dimmed vision; it is precisely a promised chief mark of the Eschaton that accurate hearing will then be accompanied by glorious sight. And in this age, the church must be the place where beatific vision is anticipated and trained.
Late antiquity suffered and lamented the same blindness with which postmodernity is afflicted, the same inability to see any Fulfillment up there before us. Gradually, as the church worked out the theology, the church made herself a place of such seeing. She did this with the icons of the East and the windows and statues of the West. Protestantism supposed that folk in the civil society already envisioned glorious Fulfillment, and needed no specific churchly envisioning, and therefore Protestantism for the most part eliminated the images and even where it retained them forgot how to use them. Protestantism’s reliance on the world was here too an illusion, but here too an illusion it got away with for modernity’s time. That time is over.”
