Young Voices

Kierkegaard Re-contextualized Part III: Love versus Death?

This is the third in a three-part series examining the theological ideas of Søren Kierkegaard through the work of three contemporary church critics. Read the first part and the second part.

In a lecture to a group of teenagers, theologian Stanley Hauerwas retells one of Søren Kierkegaard's last parables to illustrate how most Christians think of the resurrection. In the story, a prince is one day riding through his fields when he sees a beautiful peasant girl. Being of noble birth, he is careful not to overwhelm the girl with his power and riches and decides to masquerade as a peasant in order to fairly win her love.

45 years and a community we call church: an immigrants' story

My parents are celebrating their 45th wedding anniversary on Monday. In the same vein as other recent milestones, my parents do their best to invite everyone and throw a big party. We had a huge celebration when they each turned 50, 55, 60, 65 and even 70 for my father a few years ago. We have tons of food -- no, really, Filipinos have enough food to ensure that everyone there would be able to eat for days, just in case an earthquake broke out and we all were stuck there together -- entertainment that only "American Idol" or "The Voice" can rival, and many, many stories.

What strikes me the most is how integral the church is to my parents' story.

Resurrection, the sisters and the power of people

A dictatorship is threatened by that which speaks to the heart of a people. If one can crush that which stirs the soul, a dictator needs not worry about the soul being stirred to resistance.

So it was with the Chilean poet Pablo Neruda. Beloved at the roots of the population, Neruda was a symbol of the heart of the Chilean people. As such, he was also one of the greatest threats to the rule of Augusto Pinochet.

White privilege knapsack resurfaces after Trayvon Martin's death

A day after news broke of Trayvon Martin's death, I was walking to the bus. On my way, I passed a neighbor. It was drizzling so we both had our hoodies up. The striking difference, though, is that my neighbor is a young black man, and I'm not.

The moment literally stopped me in my tracks, stopped me in the cloud of obliviousness that creeps up when my privilege goes unchecked for too long.

Christ is found in sitting with those who suffer

I was a junior in college when I went to El Salvador for the first time. The van moved slowly through San Salvador traffic, the window down, my mouth covered with my scarf to protect from the pollution, my lungs still burning. A slender boy no older than 10 came to my window with his hand out and gently grazed my hand with his fingers. The tiredness in his eyes, which were as brown as his leathery skin, could have belonged to an old man. When I looked at him, he put his arm on the windowpane and rested his head as we gazed into one another's eyes. I remember this moment so vividly as I sat staring into his eyes, completely humbled, realizing that his suffering was greater than my capacity to respond.

Kierkegaard re-contextualized, part II: The agony of Pontius Pilate

This is the second in a three-part series examining the theological ideas of Søren Kierkegaard through the work of three contemporary church critics. The first part can be found here.

To me, the most memorable voice in the St. John's Passion has always been that of Pontius Pilate. After struggling fruitlessly to undo the inevitability of Christ's death, confronted with the real certainty of executing the world's most innocent person, Pilate is shaken to the core. He is left clinging to one existential question: "What is truth?"

I thought I screwed up Lent

I, too, have a confession to make. I didn't give up anything for Lent. For someone so attached to the poetic rhythm of the liturgical calendar, I failed to do something "special" for Lent.

I suppose I could give you all these superficial excuses about not having time, being too busy, just forgetting that it's Friday, but that would not get to the heart of the issue.

I even thought of saying that I am just tired. Tired of the giving something up just to get back into my previous habits. Tired of trying something new just to do more. Tired of broken monologues and debates that keep the same positions.

But all of these excuses would merely be symptoms of a deeper resistance: My pride has really gotten me away from God.

I first noticed it when I started making exceptions for myself and challenging God's grace: "Wow, God was really looking out for me. I wasn't supposed to park there, AND I didn't even get a ticket. Whew!"

Then I puffed up my chest even further when I was asked to consult on a number of different projects: "Surely, there is no one like me who could do this job. Obviously, I'm special."

Falling in love with women in ministry

I have a confession. I don't just fall in love with people -- I also fall in love with ideas, often those that promote liberation. I see a woman in church leadership and I swoon.

As an undergraduate, I drooled over books by Carter Heyward, one of the first Episcopal women ordained in the 1970s. I would read a page and my heart would skip a beat.

During those college years, I took all but one of my religion courses with a beloved woman professor who wore a shirt adorned with the cosmos and talked of female images of God. In graduate school, Kwok Pui Lan lectured during a course and influenced my understanding of Christianity forever.

It was the same with the Anglican chaplain at the university in England where I was studying. She led morning prayer, preached on Sundays and coordinated a healing ministry.

This is what women in the Catholic church could be?

There was no denying it. I was smitten with the potential for women's liberation in the church.

The place of nonviolent civil disobedience in today's culture

I used to travel annually to Fort Benning, Ga., for the annual vigil at the gates of the School of the Americas, now called the Western Hemispheric Institute for Security Cooperation, or WHISC. I was always fascinated with the participants who opted to "cross the line" onto the military base in an effort to give a voice to the voiceless. This typically meant that folks would be arrested and sometimes issued a citation or sentenced to serving time in prison.

I received an email Wednesday from Hendrik Voss of the School of the Americas Watch, the primary advocacy group trying to shut down the School of the Americas. His email encouraged people to send letters to a woman in prison to let her know that she is not alone in her efforts to seek peace and justice.

It reminded me of a time when I used to spend a lot of time writing to nonviolent resisters. I realized early on that I agree with their values but would never have the gumption to do time in prison and face those consequences. It's not for everyone.

A look at Kierkegaard and his infinite passion of inwardness

This is the first in a three-part series examining the theological ideas of Søren Kierkegaard through the work of three contemporary church critics.

Kierkegaard’s work is notoriously difficult to comprehend in total: He was a prolific author and frequently wrote under pseudonyms using characters designed to represent contrary or hypocritical positions. Most of my observations on Kierkegaard over this and the next two columns come from writings selected in "Provocations: The Spiritual Writings of Kierkegaard" (edited by Charles E. Moore, Plough Publishing House 1999). Unless otherwise noted, the translations quoted here come from that volume. The podcast "The Partially Examined Life" provides a good introduction to the philosophical Kierkegaard. (Be advised that the recording contains occasional adult language.)

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