Rebecca Ann Parker

Saving Paradise is a book that can't decide whether it wants to be church history or theology-based. Brock and Parker trace the ideas of salvation and paradise from the origins of Christianity through the present day - oftentimes stopping to reflect upon the brutality and corruption that have crept into Christianity's ethos of love. As we look back on the history of Christianity - the Inquisition, Crusades, martyrdoms, treatment of Native Americans - the authors seem to think that there's nothing to be said for this bloodshed except for 'Forgive them, Lord, they know not what they do.' And from there they advocate a more peaceable paradise, brought about by Christians who recognize the perversion of pure religion and seek to correct it.

I'm not saying this is a bad message; I'm a huge fan of love and peace and everything. But it's bad theology and an extremely selective reading of history, to say that 'real' Christianity simply doesn't engage or condone violence. But I think they disregard and disrespect the reality of the crucifixion by so steadfastly distancing Christianity from violence. They seem to think that if Jesus had died in his sleep at age 100, surrounded by grandchildren, Christianity would be no different and perhaps even better off.

But what does it mean for God to be Incarnate in a bloody and humiliating death? Paul calls the crucifixion a 'scandal' for good reason - it is shocking, a place where we would never expect to find God, yet that's precisely where God chooses to be presented. Why take away the overwhelming pathos of suffering and death in favor of this bland and selective reading of Jesus' ministry? For every time that Christians hear 'Follow me, for my yoke is easy and my burden light," they should also recognize that Jesus' yoke and burden were the cross that he had to carry to his own execution. The crucifix may become for Christians an embodiment of recognition of the full humanity of suffering - that if they can mourn Jesus' humiliation and death, they should be able to mourn each and every injustice against humanity. And by that, perhaps the violent and critical origins of Christianity can be partially redeemed for compassionate Christians like Brock and Parker. But to simply skim over the entire Passion and falsely bemoan the violence that 'corrupted' Christianity later just does a disservice to the challenging complexity of Jesus' ministry and God's Incarnation.… (mais)

Writing with a breathtaking degree of self-disclosure, Brock and Parker confront one of Christianity's most influential concepts, redemptive suffering. Taking up a theme that they have helped bring to theological consciousness in earlier work, they argue that this concept has been particularly destructive for women, who have often been socialized for self-sacrifice that undermines resistance to abuse. Drawing on personal experience as victims of abuse and as friends and counselors of victims in a variety of contexts, they reject the claim that suffering–including the suffering of Jesus on the cross–"saves" us. What saves us, they insist, is supportive, diverse communities of loving individuals in whose presence the presence of God is experienced. The book is organized into three sections corresponding to three seasons of the Christian calendar, Lent, Pentecost, and Epiphany, that carry the narrative from suffering to presence–a liturgical embodiment of the argument. Both authors have stories to tell, and they tell them beautifully in a narrative that carries a sustained theological reflection particularly relevant after one of the most violent centuries in human history. They write that their friendship made the book possible. That friendship breathes through its pages, good news for readers of all faiths seeking resources for resistance to violence.… (mais)