Books on Toast

A book review blog by bibliophiles for bibliophiles.

[booksontoast]

The Gift of Death

By: Jacques Derrida

  Summary:  In The Gift of Death, Jacques Derrida, perpetual thorn in the side of theologians, presents in rather plain vernacular his most sustained work on the subject of religion.  Exploring Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac on Mt. Moriah, much in the vein of Kierkegaard, Derrida arrives at the troubling opposition of responsibility and ethics.  Claiming that one must forsake the ethical (universal) for the call of responsibility solicited by the other, Derrida arrives at the troubling conclusion that responsibility can only be found in the secrecy that absolutely chooses the other over the all-too-inhuman generality of universal ethics. The Toast:  When discussing The Gift of Death with a close friend, I told him this book is best described as Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling retrofitted to suit French postmodern tastes.  The recipe for The Gift of Death basically goes like this (hopefully, the light-hearted experiment that follows will make some of the ensuing nerdiness a bit more palatable) :

1) Pluck and feather: Strip Fear and Trembling of it’s Kantian and subjectivist language (a language which I am convinced was not well suited to Kierkegaard in the first place given the gravity and prophetic nature of his thought).

2) Blanchin’ and bleachin’: Keep God as a fundamental figure in the text, but bleach the onto-theological implications from God’s name.

3) Stuff the gizzard: Insert heretical, French language in the place of Kierkegaard’s subjectivism.

4) Hack, burn, and glaze: Pull out some Nietzsche in the last five pages to counteract the effects of extensive God-talk, while simultaneously discrediting—because no one can “neutralize” the-man-behind-the-mustache—Nietzsche just enough to retain the effects of religious belief. The finished product: "religion without religion"; "an absolute relation to the absolute." Don’t forget the garnish: Scattered along the path Derrida weaves on his way to religion without religion and the absolute relation to the absolute is an assortment of theological, ethical, and philosophical morsels bedazzling an otherwise awe-ful, monstrous journey into the contradictions, horrors, and paradoxes of morality and faith.  Make sure to savor the critiques of liberalism, modernity, European responsibility, politics, and revelation sprinkled throughout the text.

The Looks: 4 /5 (Rembrandt engraving = automatic 4) The Ideas: 4.5/5 The Words: 4/5 Overall: 12.5/15 Recommendation:  The Gift of Death is Fear and Trembling for those who did not read the anodyne, bourgeois Fear and Trembling of conservatives wanting to avoid their ethical involvements.  Rather, The Gift of Death is Fear and Trembling for those who have the courage (or, perhaps, the meager weakness of honesty) to read Fear and Trembling in the full terror that Kierkegaard himself saw in the words he produced under pseudonym.  Readers who gravitate to Peter Rollins, Kierkegaard, or heretical French texts will be horrified at this text--and for a good reading of The Gift of Death, only horror should suffice. Favorite Quote: “Our faith is not assured because a faith never can be, it must never be a certainty.  We share with Abraham what cannot be shared, a secret we know nothing about, neither him nor us.  To share a secret is not to know or to reveal the secret, it is to share we know not what: nothing that can be known, nothing that can be determined.” —Toastmaster: Nathan Fox-Helser

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Resident Aliens

By: Stanley Hauerwas, Will Willimon

  Summary:  Produced from the collaborative efforts of Stanley Hauerwas and Will Willimon, Resident Aliens emerges as an interesting treatise on what it means to be a Christian in America.  Trying to, some would say, “deconstruct” the incestuous relationship that Christianity often shares with American nationalism, this tandem of authors ferociously draws a clear line between a Christianity found in the worship of a nonviolent Christ crucified at the hands of the Empire and a nation that too often finds itself entangled in cycles of violence both at home and abroad.

  The Toast:   “A curmudgeonly book of good questions.”  Anyone who has picked up a book and flipped to the back cover has noticed a set of quotes praising the good work of the authors—the above quote is my contribution.  Anyone familiar with Stanley Hauerwas already knows that he shares in Alasdair MacIntyre’s discontent with the frivolities of our modern, liberal institutions and the ways they have influenced the Church.  The image of a Hauerwas as the disgruntled Barthian we’ve all come to love/despise—there is not middle ground—seems to be the trademark of his career, and apparently, his staunch opposition to the American status quo starts early in his work, as this book, published in 1989, indicates. (I know very little about Will Willimon, so, in fairness to the authors, I will restrict my comments to Stanley Hauerwas).

  While I differ with many of the conclusions that Hauerwas and Willimon draw, I agree with the ways they frame the conversation about what it means to be Christian in America.  While the authors do not explicitly attempt to find the paradox of a Church whose identity is constituted by the ways it empties itself, when played out, a thorough consideration of Resident Aliens cannot avoid many of these rightfully paradoxical implications.  The goodness of Resident Aliens is this: through language accessible to evangelical Christians, Hauerwas and Willimon challenge the assumptions many (evangelical) Christians make in the ways they view their relationship to Christianity, nation, and violence.  The bad in Resident Aliens is this: by employing MacIntyre’s Aristotelian scheme, Resident Aliens confines itself to a philosophical language that, by utilizing a teleological lens, better communicates what it means to be a self-enclosed, determined entity (thus the colonial analogy) rather than a self-emptying, prophetic community of freedom and nonviolence.  In non-nerdy speech, I’m trying to say that I think the ways Hauerwas and Willimon want to talk about what it means to be a Christian in America do not match up with the language they use.

  The Looks: 4/5.  (So horrible it’s beautiful.)

  The Ideas: 4/5

  The Words: 3/5

  Overall: 11/15

  Recommendation:  While this book can wax philosophical, its heart and roots are planted in the congregation.  I recommend this book for any layperson trying to engage their faith beyond the typical Fox News national religion.

  Favorite Quote:  “Our grandest illusions about ourselves led to the greatest horrors of our history: We killed the native Americans, we bombed the North Vietnamese for the very best of American reasons.  That does not mean that those who served were dishonorable, but it does say that they heroically did their duty for a dishonorable war.  Honorable people can be used dishonorably.  It happens all the time.  Until our society knows how to admit that, it has no chance of being truthful.”

  —Toast Master:  Nathan Fox-Helser

  *This book review was written as my best attempt at the snarkiest, most contrarian Stanley Hauerwas impersonation. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

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Whose Community? Which Interpretation?

By Merold Westphal

  Summary:  Merold Westphal’s contribution to The Church and Postmodern Culture series published by Baker Academic, Whose Community? Which Interpretation?, is an excursion into the use of hermeneutics in the Church.  Coupling the hermeneutical account of Has-Georg Gadamer with the dialogical ethics of Emmanuel Levinas, Westphal details the inescapable activity of interpretation in the Church and an ethical way to hold and present those varying interpretations.

  The Toast:  Speaking strictly from personal experience, it seems that too often the word ‘postmodern’ is used as an empty buzz-word deployed by McCarthy-brand evangelicals to scare naïve youths about the dangers of the contemporary world too large to be contained by a reductionist theology.  With an ear especially attuned to this cultural phenomenon, Westphal opens the book by dispelling this all too prevalent myth in a gentle yet dismantling preface. 

  With the same intellectual artistry Westphal crafts Whose Community? Which Interpretation? so as to undo popular beliefs suggesting that Scriptural inerrancy somehow translates into interpretative inerrancy.  Westphal notes that all readers approach any given text from a situated perspective informed by traditions and practices that often times go unnoticed to the reader.  While these traditions and practices enable interpretation by providing a (necessary) perspective, these traditions and practices are also imperfect and incomplete, and often times a reader’s historically situated perspectives obstruct a full reading of the text just as much as this perspective enables it.  Fortunately, there is always a way forward, and Westphal provides it.

  The Looks:  3/5

The Ideas:  4/5

The Words:  3/5

Overall:  10/15

  Recommendation:  This book does a masterful job of removing the monstrous mask from postmodernism (I hope some of you Nietzscheans followed the reference) by weeding out the esotericism, and thus the intimidation, that often times occurs when encountering such abstruse texts (please note the irony of this sentence).  While I wouldn’t recommend this to any philosophically-apathetic average Joe, this book provides an accessible account of the ways that postmodernism can fruitfully engage discussions of Scriptures in the Church.  I would certainly recommend this book to pastors, ministers, small group leaders, and students trying to find ways to engage postmodernism post-McCarthy-brand-Christianity or who are trying to find ways to constructively dialogue about Scriptures in a diverse world.

  Favorite Quotes:  “Unless we confuse ourselves—as tradition-bearing individuals and communities—with God, we will acknowledge a double relativity: our interpretations are relative to (conditioned by) the presuppositions we bring with us, and those presuppositions, as human, all too human, are themselves relative (penultimate, revisable, even replaceable) and not absolute.”

  –Toast Master: Nathan Fox-Helser

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The Predicament of Belief

The Predicament of Belief

By Philip Clayton and Steven Knapp

Summary:  In its North American and Western European incarnations, Christianity is precariously perched.  Significant beliefs of any kind, especially religious beliefs, find themselves barely keeping their head above the water in the raging sea of doubts, detractors, and disillusionment.  In this book, Philip Clayton, Ingraham Professor and Dean of Clarment School of Theology and Provost of Claremont Lincoln University, teams up with Steven Knapp, English professor and president of George Washington University, to address five of the greatest popular criticisms challenging the legitimacy of religious belief.  Advancing an apologetic derived from process theology (not surprising given Claremont’s process-heavy program), Clayton and Knapp address the strongholds of the plurality of religions, the problem of evil, the particularity of Christian belief represented in both the resurrection and the incarnation, and the role and reality of doubt.

The Toast:  If you are in the market for a book that is intelligently written and answers the most popular of the legitimate (sorry Richard Dawkins) criticisms of religion, this is the book to buy.  This book is written with an eye to pop-culture skepticism, and an intellect towards introductory philosophy of religion courses.  Both authors engage Whiteheadian metaphysics and foundational epistemology to counter their critics, and, admittedly, both approaches are stronger than those employed by their critics.

That being said, there are no surprises in this book.  I find discussions of theodicy incredibly boring, and even more irrelevant given their purely speculative nature.  When we abstract from concrete, existential suffering to a metaphysical argument, we get lost in imaginative arguments about possible worlds and hypothetical theories of divine intervention.  Further, the authors’ utilize a Christian minimalism and a not-less-than-personal theism, to advance their arguments, an overall approach which is plausible but unappealing. 

The authors have left me with three unresolved, lingering questions:

1) How exactly is any religious belief, especially Christian belief in a self-sacrificing, radically peaceful, weak God, minimal?

2) Why should I believe in any not-less-than-personal theism that cannot be extrapolated from a robust Christology by a theologian speaking within the tradition? 

3) Related to question 2, why were the criticisms of Nietzsche, Freud, and Feuerbach ignored in this book, and how am I to believe that a not-less-than-personal theism (Christology aside) is nothing more than a very imaginative human construction?

However, for those looking for simple, plausible answers, this book is one of the best you’ll find.  The Predicament of Belief wields the acumen to accomplish its mission of countering its critics.  Unfortunately, this book lacks the teeth to settle arguments beyond that focus—not that the authors ever purported to do so.

   The Looks:  3/5

The Ideas:  3.5/5

The Words:  2/5

Overall:  8.5/15

  Favorite Quote:  “Perhaps the single most important hypothesis in this entire book is that divine action within the created universe is and must be participatory—that is, that God and God’s creatures together shape both the form and the content of divine communication with finite beings, including those salient moments of communication that constitute what is traditionally known as divine ‘revelation.’  If revelation itself is a combined product of divine and human agency, so too will be the human practices that respond to it.”

  --Toast Master: Nathan Fox-Helser

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Living Gently in a Violent World

Living Gently in a Violent World: The Witness of Weakness

By John Swinton, Jean Vanier, Stanley Hauerwas

Summary:  In this short book, two prominent figures in the Christian communitarian tradition exchange essays on the importance of community, care, and nonviolence.  Jean Vanier, founder of L’Arche and author of Community and Growth, approaches his essays with the same soft-spoken simplicity found in his other works.  On the other hand, the professional academic, Stanley Hauerwas, professor of ethics at Duke University, speaks in his typical gritty, confrontational fashion.  Where Vanier works to blur the boundaries of self, community, and belonging, Hauerwas works to sharply define the limits of the Church and Christian community as they confront liberal democratic sentiment. 

The Toast:  There is a certain irony to Stanley Hauerwas’ approach to writing—for a book published by the Duke Divinity School Center for Reconciliation, Hauerwas’ approach is especially ill-fitting.  Hauerwas’ approach to theology, which I suggest is a habit he acquired from Alasdair MacIntyre, evokes images of Jesse James pistol-whipping a well-to-do banker, taking the bank’s money (while vociferously yawping ‘I’m Jesse **** James!’), grabbing the banker’s blushing daughter, and riding off in the sunset, guns ablazing with the girl and the money in tow.  At times in the book, Hauerwas even uncomfortably confronts his gentler partner, Jean Vanier, urging him to bolster his commitment to the Church. 

However, despite the rough-shod writing style of Hauerwas and his rambling final essay, this book is certainly worth the time.  Jean Vanier writes in his usual disarming, patient manner that leads the reader to reflect deeply and read intently.  John Swinton bookends this collection of essays with an introduction and conclusion that contribute depth and context to the collaboration involved in the book.  Ultimately, Living Gently in a Violent World is a book that rests on the reader like a heavy blanket, and when it doesn’t, the reader hasn’t been reading properly.  If the reader senses no profundity in this book, the reader should be compelled to reread again and again until that profundity begins to sink in. 

The Looks: 2.5/5

  The Ideas: 4/5

  The Words: 3.5/5

  Overall:  10/15

Favorite Quote: “I have often said that Christians are called to nonviolence not because we believe nonviolence is a strategy to rid the world of war—though we certainly want to rid the world of war.  Rather, as faithful followers of Christ in a world at war, we cannot imagine being anything other than nonviolent.  Of course we want to make war less likely.  But nonviolence is a sign of hope that there is an alternative to war.  And that alternative is the church.” –Stanley Hauerwas

—Toast Master: Nathan Fox-Helser

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Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

The Summary: Published in 1932, Huxley's dystopian novel envisions a world where humans are scientifically engineered  and conditioned to fulfill their role in the strict social order. The government maintains power merely by encouraging people to seek endless pleasure through casual sex and soma (a government-issued drug). The family unit has been abolished and one of the most popular mantras is “Every one belongs to every one else.” Religion revolves around the society’s founder, Henry Ford, and Huxley cleverly replaces the word Lord with Ford in phrases like “His Fordship” and “cleanliness is next to fordliness.” Although no true hero arises in Brave New World, the first sympathetic character we meet is Bernard Marx, who is an outsider because of his small stature, affinity for solitude, and romantic feelings for Lenina Crowne. When Bernard and Lenina travel to New Mexico to observe a Savage Reservation, they discover a British woman named Linda who was lost and left behind while vacationing many years ago. Bernard brings both Linda and her son John back to London, where Linda sinks happily into a soma-induced stupor. John, known as "The Savage”, becomes a curiosity and immediately flings Bernard into the spotlight as well. [warning, burnt toast*:] Titillated by such popularity, Bernard conforms willingly to society. Having grown up on the reservation, John finds the flippancy of civilization repulsive. John falls in love with Lenina, only to be repelled by her overly-sexed advances and embarrassed by his own reciprocal feelings. He flees the city and attempts to atone for his sins by physically punishing himself. Yet this merely draws a crowd of amused spectators, who eventually draw him into their religious orgy. John awakes, appalled and distraught by his own weakness, and hangs himself from the rafters.

The Toast: When compared to other dystopian novels, such as Nineteen Eighty-Four and Fahrenheit 451, Huxley does himself credit by predicting that the future would revolve around sensory overload and the pursuit of pleasure (a theme echoed by Bradbury).  He also stands out from other dystopian writers through his insightful analysis of the human condition. All of his characters fail. Huxley draws heavily from Greek tragedy, a fact he emphasizes through ubiquitous Shakespeare references by the Savage (whose only exposure to western culture had been Shakespeare's Complete Works). Yet rather than highlighting hubris in his characters, Huxley cites their inability to resist sinful nature. When reading Brave New World, one has to be careful not to place the blame on “civilization,” for although societal pressures encourage conformity, the crux of that pressure is submission to one’s own desires. For all its successes, what Brave New World lacks is hope. Huxley does provide an escape from society for two of his minor characters (Bernard and an artist figure) in the form of an unruled island. Yet the Savage refuses this evasion and dies ignobly in a failed attempt to purge himself of desire and defy civilization.

Stylistically Huxley shines in his ability to weave and layer both texts and narrative. The first book of the novel intertwines a philosophical speech by the World Controller of Western Europe with a summary of common hypnopaedic phrases, and separate conversations in the men and women’s locker-rooms. Although at times somewhat contrived, this layering accelerates the pace of the narrative and introduces the reader to Huxley’s world through disorienting, but perfectly orchestrated submersion. Huxley also shows off his ability to layer through the frequent incorporation of canonical texts, especially Shakespeare. The Savage is constantly muttering various lines under his breath which tie in seamlessly to the larger narrative, as well as tap into a new level of meaning for those familiar with the plays.

The Harper Perennial Edition features cover art by Gregg Kulick, which is striking in its minimalist juxtaposition of black, white, and red. The illustration depicts a man being consumed by a system of mechanical gears, which though beautiful, seems ill-fitting for a novel so focused on the consuming power of desire (not technology).

The Looks: 3.5/5

The Ideas: 4/5

The Words: 4/5

Overall: 11.5/15

Favorite Quote: “'I'm thinking of a queer feeling I sometimes get, a feeling that I've got something important to say and the power to say it - only I don't know what it is, and I can't make any use of the power...I'm pretty good at inventing phrases - you know, the sort of words that suddenly make you jump...But that doesn't seem enough. It's not enough for the phrases to be good; what you make with them ought to be good too."

- Toast Master: Olivia Milroy

* burnt toast provides a heads-up to readers of impending plot-spoilers

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Pilgrim Practices by Kristopher Norris

Summary: Exploring the book of James, budding theologian Kristopher Norris illuminates “Eight Pilgrim Practices” essential to the burgeoning missional church.  Norris opens his book, Pilgrim Practices: Discipleship for a Missional Church, by reminding his reader of a time before, what he calls, the iChurch—a time when church was distinguished from society, when it was a community rooted in virtues that upheld the stories of its heritage.  Finding James’ writing especially applicable to the current state of the church, Norris identifies believing, listening, welcoming, committing, speaking wisely, witnessing, caring, and praying as the eight pilgrim practices that James offers the modern day church.  

The Toast:  Although this book will not be the most theologically involved book you’ve ever read (it certainly lacks all the fancy ontological jargon, grand meta-ethical postures, and arcane Latin terms so often found in denser theological works), it does a good job of speaking an especially relevant message.  When it is all to easy to check out and head for the nearest health-and-wealth-gospel-preaching mega-church, Norris finds a way to compassionately communicate the impotence of those institutions in the face of a church that demands more of its followers.  In simple words (and a few hokey stories), Norris reminds us what real hospitality looks like, what real peacemaking looks like, and what real community looks like.  Norris reminds us what is real about the church. 

This book isn’t much on beautiful writing; neither is it the best looking book on my shelf.  It doesn’t even have the intellectual rigor found in its bibliography.  However, what Pilgrim Practices does have is simplicity--the simplicity to squarely say what is meaningful and not flinch.  This is a book that belongs in the hands of every churchgoer who isn’t much on high-browed intellectualism, but is much on authenticity and character. 

The Looks: 2.5/5

The Ideas: 4/5

The Words: 3/5

Overall:  9.5/15

Favorite Quote:  “When we talk about dependence on God what we mean in part is the mutual love and support of the church family lifting up those in need.  We come to the aid of those in financial struggles or in loving support of those suffering loss.  Dependence is a discipline and practice that needs to be cultivated, both to free ourselves from the tyrannical illusion of independence and to open ourselves to the loving care of one another.”

--Toast master: Nathan Fox-Helser