Book review: SCOTT HAHN, Swear to God: The Promise and Power of the Sacraments. New York: Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc. 2004. Pp 1, 231. $19.95

SCOTT HAHN, Swear to God: The Promise and Power of the Sacraments. New York: Doubleday, a division of Random House, Inc. 2004. Pp 1, 231. $19.95

Scott Hahn’s personal conversion narrative sets the stage for a theological discussion of the sacraments as signs of our covenant with God, oaths we swear participating in each sacrament, in everyday language. Summing up the Church’s teaching from the Catechism and various documents in relational language, Hahn’s own relational narrative sets a relatable stage from which to present Catholic sacramental theology to non-Catholics or poorly catechized Catholics. Drawing from his deeply biblical Presbyterian roots, Hahn discusses the salvific relationship of man and God through the sacraments through Old Testament concepts of “covenant” and “oath,” drawing out the unity of the two scriptures and the Christian perspective of Jesus Christ’s fulfillment of the Old Covenant without abolishing it.

 

Framing his presentation of the sacraments in examples of age old human practice and culture, Hahn insists that covenants and oaths have been practices to secure relationship since ancient civilization. De-magicalizing the Sacraments, Hahn emphasizes repeatedly that God does not circumvent human nature in enacting a plan to redeem it, but having created man and physical things good, works through the embodiment of creation through the incarnation of Jesus to lift mankind out of sin and into sonship. Explaining the Sacraments through the incarnation as works and presence of Christ, Hahn draws from prophetic imagery in the Old Testament to relate Sacraments as renewing and fulfilling a marital bond between the visible and Invisible Body of Christ. While the Sacraments do renew relationship with God, Hahn warns that they are still veiled images of greater glory to come: “If we seek our rest in the gifts, we will never find rest. If we look beyond the gifts to the Giver, we will know everlasting peace, even and the most terrifying difficulties in life.” (177) While purporting that the Sacraments make life with God possible in this life, since we are united to the Invisible Life of Christ. Maintaining the good of human nature and created things, Hahn emphasizes that the human nature has become fallen, and therefore even accepting the truth and believing it is not enough for salvation, because we are incapable of obtaining our own salvation, so the he deems the Sacraments (along the lines of the teaching of the Catholic Church) as a maintenance of the spiritual life. Noting that “Sainthood is our everyday duty,” (198) holiness is unattainable to man, except that through the Sacraments, “our Father gives it to us.” (199).

 

Hahn’s work confidently presents well-understood positions of the Catholic Church on sacramental theology in a very easy-to-read and comprehensible manner. A wonderful introduction and relatable explanation, Hahn does not burden elementary theological readers with the depth of complexity an author such as Aquinas exerts. Repetitive emphasis creates a cumulative effect so that the reader is always clear about Hahn’s point, even though the work does not follow a flow of introduction, explanation, and conclusion. Resurrecting the concepts of covenant and oath really demonstrates a well-grounded understanding of the Sacraments in Scripture, presenting a unity of old and new covenants.

While I have noted that this piece is a good introduction, it heavily assumes a Catholic understanding of Church Authority. Hahn’s conclusions regarding the nature and need of the Sacraments tend to be stated rather than reasoned, so that an inquisitive reader is left with more questions than before encountering this book. The flow of the varying arguments is stated conversationally, in an engaging manner, but would not satisfy any sort of academic interest in the sacraments. Continuing of the topic of the flow of the book, I feel that Hahn’s thoughts could use a bit of reordering: the initial five chapters or so assume a great deal more than they explain, stating needs that, if not accepted, cause the arguments to be absolutely superfluous. Digressing into greater detail towards the middle of the book, Hahn’s historical background for the meaning attributed to Sacraments is a bit after the thought from the subject of the Sacraments themselves. Chapters full of catchy little section titles may confuse the reader from the author’s intent in combining personal story and theological teaching.

 

Regardless of the assumptive (and to the skeptical reader), unsubstantiated presentation of the Sacraments as covenantal signs, Hahn achieves the persuasive purpose of his work. Flowing smoothly in and out of personal and theological narrative, one may not leave this work convinced of the spiritual need for sacraments in order to achieve a salvific relationship with Jesus, but will be deeply impressed with Hahn’s own scriptural conviction. Since personal testimony is a tribute to one’s professed relationship with God, Hahn says, this author makes a very convincing declaration of his beliefs.

 

Hannah M. Mecaskey

Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology

 

Wondering at Woman: Thoughts and Book review of “Captivating” by John and Stasi Eldredge

Reviewing this enthralling book by John and Stasi Eldrgedge, I find it almost impossible to capture the essence of their message to both men and women as simply and surprisingly articulated in Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman’s Soul. As usual, I approached the book tentatively, o gee, another book telling me how to be a cheesy Christian woman and how to set my priorities in order, etc… but I found the content to resonate with my unexpected hopes for the book more than my dread of over-used emotional focus. Prioritizing the embodiment of woman, both body and soul, as God’s gift to creation of His own beauty, the Eldredges manage to collaborate in expressing to both men and women something of the vocation which is imparted to we who have been created woman. As my academic and personal interest is relationality, I found the situatedness of the Eldgredges’ discussion of woman’s soul in relation with man refreshing. The ensuing conversation of this little piece is going to involve things I know many are skeptical of—natures, essences, etc. While I do believe these things are impossible to define, I think the Eldgredges are taking an inductive approach to nature… looking at what often happens, and recognizing nature in tendency. Give it a shot. I just had a class today discussing Levinas’ Totality and Infinity, and with the critiques still fresh in my mind, I want to add a disclaimer that what I am going to observe from Captivating is not meant to produce a totality or universality, but to feed into subjectivity.

Starting off by wondering at womanhood itself, Stasi  muses through her own thoughts and tose of other women transitioning from girlhood to womanhood, realizing that a young woman is very blessed if she has a mentor for those years of her development. Stereotypes invade our thinking, media infects our self-image, and we struggle to be “confident, scandelous and beautiful, yet not portray (our)self as a feminist Nazi or an insecure I-need-attention emotional whore. How can I become a strong woman without becoming harsh? How can I be vulnerable without drowning myself in sorrow?” (Captivating 5). There seems to be something so delicate about femininity… a fine balance, like the stereotype of our emotional stability. To be a strong woman, we’re told that our vulnerability in unveiling of the embodied beauty of spirit/self we hold, because being strong is not contingent on our actions other than keeping our heart and aiding in the keeping of our brothers’ hearts. But how can we do that as women unless we are ourselves.

The Eldredges identify our hearts (as it is with men’s hearts) as key to bearing God’s image in a way that blesses others: “Above all else, guard your heart for it is the wellspring of life.” Proverbs 4.23. This phrase was interesting… “Your feminine heart was created with the greatest of all possible dignities—as a reflection of God’s own heart.” (pg. 8). With fragile hearts that hardly are willing to believe they’re really created as reflections of the beautiful love God. Its kind of amazing to think that woman, created as that last creation of God…  the crown jewel as the Eldredges describe her… “completed” the creation of humanity in the myth of the Creation narrative. Why then, is it such a risk for those of us who hesitate in revealing that beauty that has been created in us? We’re afraid we won’t be found beautiful the way we long to be. Or I am. I said I wasn’t going to present a totality or universal understanding of woman, so I will speak for myself and ask other women to resonate where their hearts are touched. I don’t think the desire I have had, without even understanding the desire, since I was young to be beautiful… comes from any sort of vanity. Beauty does me no good… I love to see people light up and brighten with that light of Jesus… whether they are infused with it by inspiring conversation, excited over something they just heard on the radio or read, or are struck by wonder at something beautiful… art or music, I love to see it.  If in any way I can have a hand in the relational threads of life’s web that I come in contact with to bring some more brightness into life, I sparkle inside at the thought of it. Its not about me, nothing to do with whether or not it is truly me bringing that brightness and energy… its about seeing someone become alive. To be with someone and witness the dawning of something good and glorious in their hearts fills me with a thrill of wonder… it is relationally beautiful and amazing.

That brings me to what I have been told again and again by my Dominican brothers is the genius of woman… and what the Eldredge couple deems as the glory of woman’s reflection of God.. relationship. I exist in a very predominantly male world at the moment, so while my perspective is a bit skewed, it is fascinating for me to watch how my interactions as a woman seeking to be a woman, seeking to love my brothers/fathers as a sister/daughter… to learn appropriate openness and find a sharedness in each relationship… how greatly it differs from male interaction. A newcomer to the scene of Religious life in the Catholic Church, I am mesmerized by the relationships I see between the Dominican Brothers and their cloistered sisters. It seems so true that woman fills a place in the heart or inspiration of man… not necessarily in any romantic capacity (though the Genesis interpretation widely circulating through Pope John Paul II’s Theology of the Body suggests that the nuptial/marital union of man and woman is the most natural means of the mutual inspiration, comfort and relation between the genders), but behind every great man, there really is a strong woman.

What do I understand as a strong woman. Well, that has been very confusing to me throughout my life… at some times, I have thought a strong woman was one who could always be put together, always have a wise word… and then I learned life doesn’t roll like this. Now, I tend to consider strength an ability to submit to peace, something I struggle to do. To recognize with a discerning heart situations that are beyond my control, and submit the care/worry/concern of them to my God and embrace His peace while doing my best in the situation (o how rarely I do this). My housemate can attest to you that I resist sleep, don’t get enough of it, and am always active, always on the run if not entirely knackered or sick. I resist Jesus’ peace because I hide my heart, I am unwilling to be vulnerable… He has revealed this to me through introspection and some stressing situations in which I bore more of the care than I was capable. So… in the process of learning peace. And to learn peace, I have had to first learn something about the kind of strenght I should be cultivating according to my own nature (which has a fiery past, but which most describe not as “passive”)… a quiet presence of mind, a firmness and an ability to draw boundaries where I am uncomfortable without being unkind (another challenge)… and unashamedness to quietly unveil the thoughts and wonderings and care. Hiding care is the most natural thing for introverts live me who are uncertain how much care is too much and how to translate the care in a relatable and comprehensible when hearts don’t have words.

Is that what it means for me to learn how to be beautiful? Not the kind of beauty that one sits back and admires, but one that invites to action. Maybe the beauty itself is not active… have you ever known of someone trying so hard to be beautiful and so utterly failing? This statement caught my attention: “nature is not primarily function. It is primarily beautiful.” (pg. 34) This reiterates the “be vs. do” theme I have heard again and again over this summer. John Eldredge mused on the idea of woman and our desire to hear that others find us beautiful. He replied to his own question, “ The reason a woman wants a beauty to unveil, the reason she asks, Do you delight in me? Is simply that God does as well.” (Pg. 35) Well, that would assume a woman has the courage to ask and acknowledges the desire to hear she is beautiful. I know the feeling I have warming my cheeks when someone tells me something kind, but is this not vanity, a weakness, I wonder? I think this desire in our hearts that can be so simple and so alluring in its purity can also be our greatest weakness and allow us to be easily seduced by flattery. Most of us women can recognize flattery and we’d probabloy admit we’ve listened a little too long in vanity at times. But to hear a praise of beauty spoken, and know it to be true, we can give one of those Roses Corrie ten Boom talked about giving God up to our beloved Jesus in heaven.

So much more time should be spent of discussing what beauty is… its not the Barbie figure (though yes, I have that ingrained in my mind, even from limited media exposure, as I assume more women do…)… it’s a caring heart.  I think our real beauty is a genuine, givine care. Unveiling that beauty is a revealing to another that care, and allowing it be revealed to the other for them to experience even when its without expression. It’s a risk of a deep fear that I have, as  maybe many women, abandonment by those we love. I think about it sometimes and realize I am so silly: who do I have to abandon me? I am not in some sort of committed relationship with anyone other than Jesus… but maybe its just anyone I care about. I have the kind of heart that finds care easy to give and is afraid to reveal the care because of uncertainty about the “what now” questions… if only Jesus-likeness were so very simple. If beauty is life-giving, if it really does inspire, then it is powerful. Not power like a polemical control or manipulation… but has great sway. And in us, whatever that care which wants to nuture life, give life is, it is delicate enough to need nurturing too. I find it easy to care about others, but not maintain myself enough to have strength to give the care. That is where I need Jesus, to keep being beautiful, so I can keep loving him and learning the truth I heard in Levinas today… that transcence is the new immanence… that there is a closeness in the truth, a presence in the world which I think I’ve been ignoring and looking outside of what is for what is beyond. I don’t think it works that way. Jesus, teach my heart to love through what you’ve put here. I love you, make me love like you.

 

Book Review: Strangers and Pilgrims: Female Preaching in America, 1740-1845 by Catherine A. Brekus

Catherine A. Brekus. Strangers and Pilgrims: Female Preaching in America, 1740-1845. (Gender and American Culture.) Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. 1998. Pp. x, 466. Cloth $49.95, paper $17.95.

Spinning an intricate thread with which to follow the path of rediscovering the stories of evangelical female preachers who influenced the first and second Great Awakening up until the pre-Civil War revivals, Catherine Brekus in Strangers and Pilgrims: Female Preaching in America, 1740-1845 considers women of varying class and race. Recovering the significant impacts of these women on their evangelical churches in a moving towards recognized denominations, Brekus relies upon primary sources including letters, journals and memoirs along with published reports of camp meetings, religious periodicals, pamphlets and books printed by the women themselves, in parish records or the writings of a male preachers, along with a vast collection of secondary sources. As if restoring a disintegrated work of art, Brekus paints a picture of female religious leadership, which neither conforms to the silent, submissive stereotypes of eighteenth and nineteenth century women, nor the radical social activist positions of early feminists, “platform speakers,” who advocated not only women’s suffrage and reproductive rights, but also the abolition of slavery.
Though a detailed historical work, Strangers and Pilgrims is a useful resource not only for scholars, but clergy and lay people interested in discovering not only the general themes of female evangelists but also the specific struggles women like Harriet Livermore faced. Viewing the King James Bible as the literal Word of God, female evangelists struggled to fulfill their unpaid call to preaching financially by selling handiwork, tracts and books, relying on charity, or relying on the salaries of their husbands. In spite of all the controversy surrounding these women who traversed social expectations of women’s silence in public and religious spheres, most of the female evangelists tended to endorse conservative political position. It is this middle position between traditionalism and radical thinking that Brekus notes is representative of “the same values as countless numbers of anonymous women who sat in church pews every Sunday.” (7)
Drawing out a more realistic picture of women’s lives than the commonly assumed repression of women, Brekus depicts ordinary women who fervent spiritual concerns did not even broach the realm of religious power politics: these female evangelists did not clamor for rights to baptism or ordination, claiming equality with men through scriptural revelation rather than biological nature. Embracing supportive roles, this group of women who “were the first to speak publicly in America” (6) prioritized their preaching calls beneath faith in scriptural revelation. Despite their willingness to accept secondary roles in leadership, female evangelists attracted droves of converts by their condemnations of sin, which thundered as powerfully as any male preacher in spite of a lack of education. In spite of their budding leadership, Brekus notes that within a decade of the genesis of female evangelists, evangelical churches began to more rigidly distinguish the boundaries of “masculine” and “feminine” as the desire to be recognized as denominations increased.
These degenerating egalitarian and populist ideals of evangelical churches led to an emphasis on the importance of a salvation experience over and above distinctions of race, class, and gender. “In many ways,” Brekus observes, “the presence of large numbers of white and black women in the pulpit seems to offer evidence of the democratization of American Christianity.” (11) Finding the evangelical scenario after the Great Awakening to be paradoxical, Brekus discussed the contradictions in celebrating freedom, and instituting governance for those freedoms. In spite of allowing women to preach, women remained “strangers and pilgrims, outsiders in an evangelical culture that reserved its greatest public honors for men alone.” (13) Rhetorical separation of public and private spheres may have influence women’s self-perceptions, but not their actual affect on the shaping of culture. Relating the struggles of the female evangelists in the past to current issues of women’s religious leadership, Berkus provides an example of past societal failures to recognize women, challenging congregations today with the ominous threat of repeating a history of forgetting female contributions.

Hannah M. Mecaskey
Dominican School of Philosophy and Theology