If one looks with significance on the scene of a woman in the presence of a man, Eve (Gen 3) and Mary Magdalene (John 20), to signify the relationship of the chosen people
It is also important to note that in the Garden of Eden, one scene depicts a separated humanity and deity, a fallen man who is unable to fully be the divine manifestation to the woman
It is in the sense of disinterestedness that John's gospel brings forth the idea of the subjective overtaking the perfection of creation. John relates, in reflection of the Genesis story, " In the beginning the Word already was. The Word was in God's presence, and what God was, the Word was[,]" which illustrates a point in which the objective reality of creation is no longer the focus of what occurs in the beginning, but rather the emphasis becomes a direct appeal to the subjectivity of God (REB 1.1). His eternal attributes are established, and though presently separated from creation, through the lens of John, "[…] without him no created thing came into being" (REB John 1.3). So that when Christ is risen and is presented as the Logos or "The Word" there is a sense that the subjective element of God has in some way entreated into the objective world seeking a form of unity to it. The image of Christ in a garden standing with Mary Magdalene creates a metaphorical tie to the same image of Adam and Eve standing in the Garden of Eden at the beginning of the new creation of the objective. For, after six miracles, which one may take to correlate with the six days of creation, Christ and Mary are participating in a form of new creation that has been presented in light of the death and resurrection of Christ. So, the fragmented unity of God and man is restored to by the resurrection of Christ, but even more, the subjective portion of God's thinking existence has taken on objectivity and proves His power over it so that in some sense he overtakes and participates in the perfection of it. This is further related in the garden scene of John when the deified Christ says, "'[…] go to my brothers, and tell them that I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God'" (REB John 20.22). Here John is revealing the mind of God, Christ as the embodiment of Logos, is creating a distinct equality with a lesser humanity. By allowing humanity to retain the same position as He himself has with the divine, there is a way in which Christ is pointing out and letting it be known that there is a new unity between the subjectivity of both man and deity; not only is the relationship now restored, but there comes unity in all levels of existence including the mind.
To begin the search for the Kantian aesthetic through a discourse of John, it becomes imperative to see that the opening chapters of John set up a connection to the opening chapters of Genesis. In Genesis, though there is an express and intentional appeal to the spiritual intervention of God, it presents the creation of the physical world. One will observe that in the initial sequence of events, after the six days, there is a picture presented in which creation is new and perfect, and in this new creation stands a man and a woman, Adam and Eve, on the first day of a new and perfect reality. One can infer that this picture, especially in contrast with John's picture, shows an overt appeal to the objective world so that the subjective mind of God has begun His great work by separating himself through materiality from his perfect creation; there is a bridge between the existence of man and God which manifests as the objective world (the external world of things)
This picture of creation as a perfect objectivity masks within it an expression of the Kantian aesthetic through the idea of disinterestedness. Genesis relates, " In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth" (REB 1.1). God in this instance becomes the creator, just as a painter might create, but what is more implicit is the separation between God and His creation that is assumed. One might say that because creation is perfect at this point, it is somehow at one with the author, but creation, with similarity to an art piece, anticipates a nature, and may be a reflection of the innate nature, of a disjointed human mind; though one may argue that creation, in this scene, must be linked subjectively to its creator (that is to say that because the creator has a mind), it anticipates a time when humanity and divinity are strictly subjectively separated, but through this "we glimpse for an exhilarated moment the possibility of a non-alienated object, one quite the reverse of commodity, which like the 'auratic' phenomenon of a Walter Benjamin returns our tender gaze and whispers that it was created for us alone"(Eagleton 78).
Though separated from perfection, humanity is able to gaze upon it in a some formal sense. Also, with the world being the canvas of an almighty creator, one sees that it is not through the interest of even God's own subjectivity (again his mind) that the world is presented as perfect, but that through some sort of innate characteristic endowed onto it by its creation it is able to know perfection, for "[…] the presentation of this object is also judged to be connected necessarily with this pleasure, and hence connected with it not merely for the subject apprehending this form but in general for everyone who judges [it]" (Kant 505).
True, God was the one to give essential characteristics to His perfect creation, but even here, beyond the point of actual creation, the world knows and embodies perfection only by its appeal to the very nature that is endowed to it by the universality of its beauty which was established by God so that, in some sense, once creation is presented as perfect, even the omnipotent deity is helpless in disinterest to its display. Terry Eagleton has an interesting take on this when he says, "However contingent their existence, these [aesthetic] objects display a form which is somehow mysteriously necessary, which hails and engages us with a grace quite unknown to the things in themselves, which merely turn their backs upon us" (78).
One may here object that an omnipotent God could in fact change creation in anyway that He saw fit so as to extract His own disinterested association to it, but this would suggest that perfection at some point would not have actually been perfect due to some defect of God's handiwork and would thus actually strike at his omnipotence.
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*Eagleton, Terry. The Ideology of the Aesthetic.
*Kant, Immanuel. "Critique of Judgment." The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Ed. Vincent B. Leitch et. al.
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Here is the account of a correspondence which I became involved in toward the end of my summer of missions. I hesitate to post this for fear of offense toward the other party, but if any such issue arises I will humbly recant this posting. The woman, whose name is already so cryptic will further have her identity concealed by me through the pronouncement of her name as Ms. X and can choose to reveal herself if necessary. I post this, with also an accute fear of possible pride, in an attempt to receive thoughts. What do you think? How does this affect you? What do you think of the dialogue between us? where have each of us failed and succeeded in our arguments or also in our implementations of debate in a loving manner? This has popped up in my mind off and on since its occurrence and now I seek your thoughts. And it begins...
I must be honest that I proceed here in caution. I fear that we tread the line of no longer sharpening one another, and that our correspondance may devolve into a spiritually unhealthy bickering (I am not expressly accusing you of such, but I think we must keep this in mind as we proceed).
Red Lake is clear and the crimson sunset bounces off the glassy surface. The light then pitters out leaving only its passing memory and the thick woolen blanket of night along with the awareness of its darkness. Our fire flickers off the faces of my staff as we sit in meditative silence reflecting on the ending of our journey; the conclusion of our hard days and nights of ministry. Mosquitoes buzz about wildly infiltrating our comfortable bubble and eerily heightening what none of us could express. Our summer had been poignantly marked with demonic attack, and we were all grossly aware that our mission was meaningful because we were being hindered.
"I'm S----- Fucking Sumner! You tell them I was here! Get off my fucking beach! This is our beach! You're out of place! Get off our beach!" Engrossed in the moment, the Spirit leads me toward an aesthetic experience, I begin to mold in the sand the image of a human skull. Atop the skull is a cross, and around the whole is a large heart. Why I am lead to create in this volatile moment I can only attribute to God, but in it, as these ladies remind us with their continued verbal assault, I am faced with the reality of our inadequacy to bring lasting joy and love to Red Lake and these ladies iconic representation of the struggles that their community deals with. I watch the light flint and flicker off the image of the skull as it flinted off our own faces earlier, and I am starkly reminded, especially sitting in the skin crawling darkness that clouds this place every night, that the cross of Christ is not a glamorous object; it is not through crowns and the riches that create beauty that our Lord saved us, but it was through His ultimate suffering, death, and the grotesque subtleties of human nature that He gave himself; it is only He who can bring lasting joy, nothing that we can do, and it is only He who can strip this community of the demons it houses.
I might take this lesson of God's sovereignty, turn it in a positive light, and depend, with fervent intercession, on the great power of God to work for the people of Red Lake; I can know that the unfailing love He has for me can be applied for them as well.
So often when I feel stressed or, I’ll be honest, bloated I will often take a run around the school that is our mission site, and more lately I had been actually running around the community (this I had previously avoided due to the abundance of stray and venomously volatile dogs running about but had since gained a confidence which was based on the mere fact that doing laps is more boring than scenery). On one occasion as I ran I became grossly aware of a strange gathering of folks on the road before me, for the path I usually take leads me down Highway 1 which runs through Red Lake. I found this to be odd, mostly because it is ridiculously hard to get any type of gathering in Red Lake let alone one that, from a distance, seemed so vibrant, joyous, and energetic. From afar I could see that this group of young people was armed with banners, matching T-shirts, and an unsurpassed enthusiasm. “No way this is Native Youth!” I thought to myself (no offense to any who read, but it just seems culturally true that native youth are generally more reserved). As I came closer I realized that my previous prediction had been correct. In fact, this youth were far from Native youth. They were Korean. I had seen signs around the reservation advertising the coming of this group, a Korean ministry, that held cultural exhibitions to attract crowds to hear the gospel. So, here I find myself running down a highway on a closed Indian reservation passing hordes of exuberant Korean youth. Strange enough? Not quite.
So, again, I find myself in the most strange moment as I realize I am watching this Korean youth perform an African tribal dance with a group of mostly Lutheran (a.k.a. not the most culturally enthusiastic folk or just enthusiastic in general for that matter) participants while sitting in a Catholic Mission half filled with natives on a closed Indian Reservation. I just kept thinking of my close Asian friends and their probable thoughts on the situation had they been present for it, and I think comments may have included “F@#king Asians!”, “That’s SO Asian!”, or “We’re taking over the WORLD!” I still chuckle just thinking about it. It was just weird!
There is a worship song that sings, "Take me to that place, Lord, to that secret place where I can be with you; you can make me like you! Wrap me in your arms! Wrap me in your arms! Wrap me in your arms!" I think on these words and wonder: What does it mean for me to be like you Father? How can you wrap me in your arms when I am too soaked in my own putrid filth and mire? What does it mean for me to pursue a life devoid of earthly dealings and yet full of your life giving bounty? How can I journey with my brothers and sisters on a road that is too narrow for any of us? How do we unite and proclaim a gospel of love in which I remember John's words when he says, "[...] love must not be a matter of theory or talk; it must be true love which shows itself in action. This is how we shall know that we belong in the realm of truth, and reassure ourselves in his sight where conscience condemns us; for God is greater than our conscience and knows all (REB 1 john 3.18)?
This I think is a glimpse:
As the stage vibrates with the bouncing of the chosen children who have come to serve the Red Lake community this week, I sing and drum and dance in jubilance knowing that they could not possibly know or accept the truth which God has been growing in me as of late; they too would have to journey a similar path to the one that I have walked in order to be convinced of the beauty of Christ's bride. This particular group knows what it means to worship. They have tasted the meaning of giving ones heart in ardent and joyful praise to their God, they have served in a manner fitting of the kingdom of God, and they have begun to open their minds to the love that Christ speaks of and John reminds us of. I see them here in trueness as they pour out their thanksgiving to God, not for earthly spoils and treasures, but because he has been faithful to them in their search to be humble servants of Him. These people, these kids, they are vibrant and free; they are the body of Christ.
In contrast to these who are charismatic, I find myself dwelling on the thoughts of the week previous to this one. It was then too that Jesus began to open my eyes to the vast, eclectic, and diverse nature of His body. See, it is not that the charismatic are any more sincere or ardent in their love and expression of faith, but it was that they are allowed, through the culture of their faith, to be free, open, and expressive with an exclamation of praise; they could dance; they could spin; they could scream; they could bow. But what other groups lack in expression, many times, they redact by means of genuinity, for it was the week prior to this one that I saw a group of Catholic kids, on the opposite end of the spectrum, pour themselves into the work of the kingdom in a way that I had little seen surpassed by any groups in the two summers of work in that community. And in the midst of a chaotic and expressive session of worship, I knew that these two groups, had they been coincidentally joined together on a trip, would not have been compatible in their faith expression and may even have been hostile to one another. Even still, in the vibrancy of the worship scene, I could not help but dwell on the sincerity and beauty of a hymn sung A Capella the week before by a more structured crew. It is in the depravity of cultural walls and the hostility of organized denominations that I might find disenchantment, but ever so subtly does the Father remind me of His sovereignty and His undying devotion to all who would proclaim his truth. He reminds me that I have glimpsed the notion of the earth full of His glory; though separated by qualms and brokenness, that it is by His name His children are unified; that the earth, including the sovereign nation of Red Lake, will know and does know Him by our love, not our take on Calvinism/Eucharist/ baptism/insert-secondary-issue-here.
I look on the faces of the kids that we are touching in this place, and I think on the families that we are doing work for and it is here that love as a petty appearance of words begins to lose its meaning and endows itself in the trueness of action. I fear for the decrepit aura that surrounds the future of the children that have touched my life and I know what it means to love in truth. What if the kids fall at the hands of the darkness that has engulfed their community? What if Eugene finds himself in a life of violence because of the gang culture that seems to confront him in every aspect of life? What if Jeff loses his vivacity and joy as he is swallowed up by the biting cynicism, brutality, and anger that he is attacked with daily? What if Zack, one of the most intelligent eight year olds I know, never realizes the potential of his mind because of distraction and lack of opportunity? What if the beautiful Angela finds herself tied to a man who can barely take care of himself because she bought in to the lie that her only worth is in her sexuality? What if Andrea never realizes the beauty of her smile and laugh, because she is too worried about finding her next fix of alcohol or meth? What if Flower loses herself in an addiction of eating as she deals with the abandonment of her mother and family? What if some of these families have to live the winter out in houses that lack windows and doors? How will some of them live with the shame of a house that is in shambles? What joy would be lost if the love of Christ was never known here?
--What if ...we lose? What if there is no hope? It is here, in this fear, that God reveals His faithfulness and sovereignty in His love of man as one remembers His promise to Israel, in Jeremiah, to never leave nor forsake them if they would only seek Him; as one remembers His promise to never leave or forsake us. Here, through the diversity of His body, He opens the door of realization to know what loving in truth really is. It is here that the body and bride of Christ can be unified in commonality as they raise a banner in their own lives and denominations that proclaims the end of apathy and shouts out conviction which would end the plague of darkness that sabotages the hearts of men. It is the bold and coercive doctrine of truth that would proclaim the love of Christ. It is the secret place where Catholic and charismatic, broken and healed, bold and meek, poet and priest can be with Him; can be made like Him; can be wrapped in His arms, wrapped in His arms, wrapped in His arms.
“When you’re on our land, you need to obey our rules!” The stern face of the police officer only reinforced the guilt and pallid face of truth of my unworthiness to serve the God I love. My head hung low that day as I knew that my stent at being a good steward with the things that God had given me had been wrongfully neglected, and that I had truly been negligent with valuable property. 
Why in my darkest times does a glorious Father reveal Himself all the more fully in love? Why when I am the most obviously broken would He choose to shine all the more brightly through me? Why would He choose one no better than refuse to carry out such a grand responsibility? There are times when I am forced by the ship wreck known as my sin-nature to adore him all the more for being a flower in the middle of my garbage heap and for showing me how to do the same; that’s a convoluted way of saying I have no clear words to express His beauty.
I sat as my arms moved rhythmically over the air grate. I scrubbed and scrubbed in order to cleanse it of that day’s latest conflict. This beating had been particularly bad as I remember seeing venomous hate emote from a boy who was too young to know what manhood truly was, and fearfully never would. My hand (protected by latex) worked ever so hard to cleanse the area in the gym of Red Lake Elementary school where the swarms of children would play day in and day out. Some of the blood sopped up easily, and some of it took work. I wondered on this for a moment, for though this was the last task that I was performing in this particular duty, the former being that of cleansing the boy and the whereabouts of where he had journeyed in his time of injury, I knew that the time spent was hardly enough for the blood to harden in such a way. It was then that I realized that it was not only this boy’s blood that I dutifully cleaned, but it was that of previous and equally violent confrontations. This boy’s blood mingled with that of others, and the spots were marks, prideful insignia, of the battles won (or lost) in this particular area; I realized this grate was one symbol of many of the life that was to be lead here, the life that encased these children when they weren’t dancing joyfully here at YouthWorks! Kids Club; they lived a life unknown of discipline, joy, hope, opportunity.
I have taken a keen interest in the gospel of John lately which is mainly due to the fact that my church has been going through it. However one theme seems to run through it that I never picked up on before. It will be easiest for me to speak about the theme like this: 