“Now he knows what to say.”


Fuel by Naomi Shihab Nye

This is more standard literary poetry: a set of observations, and then some “insight”, “what this is really about,” a revelation. There are some lovely poems here: “Hidden,” quoted in many reviews is nice; also “Alphabet;” the opening lines of “The Rider” are lovely (A boy told me/if he roller-skated fast enough/his loneliness couldn’t catch up with him); “Pause” brings some nice observations; and the closing poems, “The Last Day of August” and “I Still Have Everything You Gave Me” offer a nice closing sense.

The last lines of “Listening to Poetry in a Language I Do Not Understand” are probably my favorite of her closing insights:

One word rolls across the floor,

lodging under the slipper

of the man who has felt uncomfortable

all day.

Now he knows what to say.


From the Front Porch, it could be Michigan

Less a Manifesto than a collection of essays, and as with all collections, a mix of the good and the “eh”.

The great theme is the focus on the local, the particular, the personal/relational as the proper path to the good, the beautiful, and the true. The contributing authors come from a variety of perspectives, new (southern) agrarian, Catholic traditionalists, and Midwest regionalists; their perspective is not unified nor does it articulate a unified policy. Rather, they are better read as a set of refractions on the theme, a series of approaches.

Among the more pleasurable essays: Bill Kauffman’s Look Homeward, Angels (and Others); Jason Peters’ The Orphans of Success and the Longing for Home; John Cuddeback’s Killing the Animals We Eat; Philip Bess, Chicago 2109: The Metropolitan Region as Agrarian-Urban Unit; Christine Rosen, Technology, Mobility and Community; and D.G. Hart’s reprise of his book, Defining Conservatism Down (although Hart’s suggestion that Evangelicals must become more politically conservative is surely mistaken in an age of national populism).

Being a collection of often conservative writers, political thinking generally lapses to the cranky Right rather than giving localism its proper political weight. Mass ideas and their conformity are no less a problem for the Right than a creature of the Left. In an era of Trump, these essays especially needed to be sharper.

As may be expected in any collection, certain voices get left out. The agrarian bent, for instance, misses the very real place-making perspective of Midwest writers, a good example being David Giffels’ The Hardway on Purpose about life in Akron. Likewise, while the agrarian theme can celebrate the hardwork of life in the country as a good, it skips by the other possible set of reflections on craft, such as Matthew Crawford’s Shopcraft as Soulcraft. Also going missing are the role of minorities and of their own pride of place, of community and the realization of local goods — a stance that informs implicitly the protests against gentrification.

Finally, one notes that much of the longing for places one can invest lives in, return to; places that are human scaled and so shape the soul. These are the places that still exist, especially in the Midwest. Especially in Michigan.

Mark Mitchell, Jason Peters ed. Localism in the Mass Age: a front porch republic manifesto. Eugene OR:Wipf and Stock. 2018.

Babel, Economics and the Duty to the Neighbor

The Economics of Honor: Biblical Reflections on Money and PropertyThe Economics of Honor: Biblical Reflections on Money and Property

by Roelf Haan

Geneva: World Council of Churches. 1988



Book note: Read the earlier version of this book, published 1988 by the World Council of Churches. This version has a different translator, plus new information.

Roelf Haan addresses the question of economics in the specific context of the authoritarian states of South America of that era, in particular that of Argentina. His meditations turn further to the consideration of the marginalized agrarian poor — those still working in subsistence or commodity-based economies. As noted below this later turn is something of a weakness for his approach.

Although published by the WCC, the rhetoric is solidly in the Dutch Calvinist tradition. Haan shows an evident debt to the earlier work of Jacques Ellul and the general exegetical approach that sees in the biblical text a lens through which one can see this world and its arrangements more clearly (a good example of this sort of theological reading would be NHK Ridderbos’ discussion of Genesis 1 in the old New Bible Commentary, IVP). It is a very different approach than the more biblicist model of present Evangelicals, or of the more social science determined pattern of many social justice folks.

For him, economics is seen principally through the lens of the “city” as an alternate place from that which God has provided. So Cain and Enoch both go off to found cities. In this, it is not the City as the New Jerusalem of Revelations, so much as the Augustinian City of Man. Economics with its focus on gain and power is constituent of this City.

The fulcrum of the book is his eighth meditation on the meaning of the Fifth Commandment (Honor your parents…), appropriately titles The Economics of Honour. Haan points to how this commandment links the two tablets of the law, the first being our duties towards God and the second, those towards our neighbor. Parents are both the ones who name us like God, and who also become the face of God that we encounter in our neighbor; thus the turn to honour is the turn to God and to our neighbor. As the Apostle John tells us, we cannot see God if we do not first see our neighbor — we must see both, and we see both in our parents.

Moreover, for our ethic, the giveness of our parents becomes a type for the giveness of our neighbor. These are the people in front of us, in our lives, to whom we must respond.

By way of commentary, this is some remarkable exegetical/spiritual sleight of hand. The result are a series of provocative ways of considering our own social duties, our “economics.”

Trouble arises in the last third of the book, as Haan considers the specifics of my neighbor in the guise of the poor. Until this point, the meditations have been on our responsibilities towards God, how we must have a new way of thinking, of seeing. Now he turns our gaze toward the poor, where he considers the politics of money and food, of an agrarian commodity economy. This is less satisfying for two reasons.

First, while Haan writes of the world he knows it becomes an elevation of the particular circumstance to the universal. So the agrarian problem and the distrust of market solutions are seen as the normative framework. But in the 25 years since the questions of urbanization have substantively altered how we are to think of the poor. In this time, the number of those living in such subsistence economies has drastically shrunk; the realities of urban live pose new challenges. For this social landscape, market approaches, both of land ownership (so Hector DeSoto) and of entrepreneurialism play an important role in alleviating the burdens of poverty.

Second, the focus on the poor as an object of our action, or our ethical duty, our “social justice” imports our own class frame. We’re still in the land of Nimrod, still relying on our own power, still caught in the web of our own social-technological technique. We think we can fix it. Here, Haan’s thinking could be reasonably expanded by Jacques Ellul’s own meditation on the inutility of human action (Politics of God and the Politics of Man). The Christian approach is kenotic (see Philippians 2), open — the opposite of that of the City of Man and Babel.

As Haan demonstrates, our practice of economics and our seeking the betterment of our neighbor are alike spiritual tasks.

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Bible and Ecology

The Bible and Ecology: Rediscovering the Community of CreationThe Bible and Ecology: Rediscovering the Community of Creation 
Richard Bauckham

Waco TX: Baylor University Press, 2010




Christians have had something of a distant view of Creation — there’s always been this gap between humanity and the world, most often expressed through some sort of theology of dominion or stewardship. Richard Bauckham wants us to see ourselves relating to Creation as a matter of community. In The Bible and Ecology,  Bauckham gives a close reading to   reading of the  biblical texts relating to the natural world (e.g. Ps 104), to show how this world has an existence along with our relationship to God.  This treatment is good so far as it goes, but it does not really get to the role of nature in the thinking of ancient Israel; we are still at the level of the biblical text. The nature of the world outside of human habitation, this wilderness, is left relatively unexplored. For instance, at the close of Psalm 107, we read how God makes the arid country into a place of flowing springs, a place where people can build a city, sow fields and plant vines — the relationship with open land and habitation is thus more complex. Still Bauckham is right to emphasize the independence of Nature from the human world.

When he turns to the NT — the area of his specialization — he becomes very astute (thus the four stars — read this especially for the last two chapters).

What is missing? Although Bauckham has a sense that we live in an ecologically compromised time, he really cannot find a way to speak about it, in part because of his orientation to biblical exegesis, rather than theology. The significant discussion yet to be had is on how do we understand a world that is confessed as good, yet one that is clearly altered by human interaction. How do we sing the Lord’s song in a globally warmed land? Bauckham lays the groundwork for that discussion, as well as providing generous notes and a very in-depth bibliography.