c. scott andreas

Emergent / emerging is not as “Postmodern” as we might like to think. Instead, it seems that many simply hear the words “emerging” and “post-modern,” have a vague understanding of both, and assume…



(This post is published at Conversatio.net, Scott’s academic-ish site.)

Was anything in the list posted below strictly “Postmodern?” And what makes it “Postmodern,” for that matter?
“Post-Enlightenment?” Mostly.
“post-modern?” Maybe.
“Postmodern?” I don’t think so.
A…



(This post is published at Conversatio.net, Scott’s academic-ish site.)

I recently read John Caputo’s Philosophy and Theology, part of Abingdon’s “Horizons in Theology” series. The book is an extended meditation upon the mutual dependence of philosophy and theology upon…



(This post is published at Conversatio.net, Scott’s academic-ish site.)

No doubt you’ve noticed that the periodic reflections I’d planned to post haven’t popped up. I assure you, if I had something to say I certainly would have said it.

A week before Ash Wednesday, I planned out “my Lent.” It was to be a synthesis of the ancient, the medieval, the modern, and the post-modern, winding together strands of traditions practiced throughout the history of the people of God. Intentional community. Praying the Office. Fasting regularly. Vigorous study and textual analysis. And blogging it all.

But then something strange happened. When Ash Wednesday came, I found it difficult to lose myself in the Episcopal service. In spite of its beautiful liturgies, embodied prayer, and symbolic repetition, something wasn’t right. It just didn’t feel like Lent had begun.

Undaunted, I went about my business - praying, fasting, enjoying the company of fellow Christ-followers, studying scripture, and participating in social networks.

But the doubt and confusion remained. I felt as if the Spirit had withdrawn from me - or more likely, I from the spirit. A myriad of doubts flooded my mind, from the abstract (who am I, what do I desire, where am I going?) to the concrete (where will I be this summer, next year, and the years after that?).

And it troubled me. I expected prayer and fasting to bring clarity, but found myself wading muddied waters and stirring up a little silt of my own. I cried for answers, but found questions. I sought faith, but stumbled on doubt. Prayed for peace, but wound up restless.

While reading a mashup of Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Augustine, Derrida, Lyotard, Aquinas, and a pile of others, I realized the joke was on me.

On Ash Wednesday, I likened the journey of Lent to wandering in the desert, awaiting deliverance to the promised land. I didn’t know how right I was. And right now, I am a sojourner.

This Lent will be a journey.
One of doubt. Hope. Longing. And becoming.

As Søren Kierkegaard mused,
“I am not a Christian. But I would very much like to become one.”