I hope that this note finds you and your family doing well in this Christmas season. Sharon and I remain happily disposed in central Mexico, where we intend to stay for another year. In mid-December, we are moving from our present casa to a leased condo at the edge of town. After we have stayed there for a year, we may return home or sojourn to Europe for another year, depending upon how finances develop in the coming months. We could stay indefinitely in Mexico, but an extended stay in Europe will be taxing, unless in due time my personal finances improve, or the Euro whimpers into one of those forgettable, limbo-like echelons of the Inferno, which occupy the earlier chapters in the Dante poem. I have hope for the former and studied anticipation of the latter.
This diversion has been helpful in many ways; but, perhaps most importantly in the long run, it has provided for me a distanced perspective from which to think further about the events of our time. I am inclined toward a philosophic detachment anyway - perhaps not altogether different from your penchant to dive into the hopeful words and sentiments of the eighteenth century. There is merit with the voyage, the pilgrimage which takes us far from home, if only so as to harden ourselves a bit for that final stage, when we are forced, often by circumstances unforeseen, to confront a God who may seem cruel and distant. Job is every man, and every man is Job. Perhaps we find an inkling of that cruel, distant God, the One who reminds us that we were not present when He created the firmament, in the persistent sense that we are not home, are not among our people, and sometimes not particularly welcome. An extended stay in Europe would only intensify that sensibility, as Europe is even more foreign, given its self-imposed estrangement from Biblical, orthodox Christianity and wholesale rejection of the Edict of Milan.
Of course, a sensible argument may be made that one need not travel abroad, in order to learn what it is like to be estranged from God. Sin is helpful enough in reminding us of our utter estrangement. It stings us precisely because we retain, however partially and ineptly, an aura of a memory of our brief taste of Eden and thus know what we have lost - or, as is equally true when seen from another perspective, what we have gained. It reminds us that we are moral beings, meant to be akin to a God which we can never know completely - or at least never know completely apart from a salvation which itself is knowable only in and from a grace delivered unto us by that very same God. The conundrum remains, such that even the Christian who is firm in his faith in the soteriological significance of Christ on the Cross cannot escape the anguish of Job. If he is serious, then he cannot go forward in his life without sensing that, even if and when he is fully redeemed in Christ Jesus, on some level the scars from his former, sinful life will remain. Those scars may reflect the glory of God as much as the rest of his resurrected body, but they will be scars nonetheless, just as the Resurrected Christ retains His stigmata, the sign of the sin He chose to bear for us.
Our Founding Fathers understood this fact, which is why they fashioned a Republic which promised far less than the lofty excesses of the utopian provocateurs of their own time. In the French Revolution, we see the scintillating charms of a utopian vision run amuck; ours, by contrast, is a measured revolution, pragmatic in its goals, and prudent in its sentiments. Because modern, Biblical hermaneutics presupposes that we cannot know anything about God, that revelation is ahistorical, that the religious experience is neither more nor less for any man than a culturally conditioned myth, it is logical then for the same hermaneutics to presuppose that we cannot know anything about the relationship of man to God. Sin then is inevitably going to fall away, since sin is nothing more than the state of being in a more or less estranged relationship with God. Given how even we Christians have fallen away from the pragmatic, realistic view of how God reveals Himself to man, and of how man remains in estrangement from God, should we be surprised that the vision of our Founding Fathers, of a Republic that is neither the Kingdom of God on Earth, nor the supplicant, colonial toy of a despotic King, today falls on deaf ears? Should we be surprised that, on the one side of the political divide we find people viewing the United States as if a "national incarnation" of Christ Jesus Himself, while on the other we find people who would "apologize" our way into supplication to the same despots of old? Should we be surprised that the Republican Party has given up its last vestige of old fashioned, prudent Whiggery, in favor of a weird mix of goofy libertarianism, Wall Street cronyism, and neo-conservatism? Are we so blind that we fail to see that the utter chaos in which we are today inflicted is the direct result of an intellectual hubris that tells us that we are "too advanced" to believe anymore that we can know God or have any real, meaningful, morally relevant relationship with Him?
There is merit in being far from home, to be sure, though everything that I just said above could have been discerned simply in giving a little bit of thought to the sordid machinations of an entity as nearby as the Sonoma County Alliance. We are as unwelcome there as we are here. We are as estranged among neighbors as we are among foreigners. Like Job, we may find as much anguish as hope in this estrangement, as we are reminded thereby that the God with whom we grapple is the Almighty God, the God with whom we cannot but be estranged. The predilection of most modern men is to ignore this insight and to believe, as if it is possible or even desirable to return back to the childish innocence of Eden, that the estrangement is not real, that God is culturally containable, and that our Republic thereby may and should be either the Kingdom of God on Earth or the slave of whatever happens to be the utopian fancy of the moment. The Declaration of Independence has no meaning, let alone viable future, in this kind of world. It is as dead then as the yellowed parchment on which it is written; and, if that is the case, then perhaps, in a way, I am as much home here among Marian worshipping, pagan Mexicans, as I am among my fellow Americans.


A Letter from a Friend to Michael Erickson
A Response from Michael Erickson to the Friend
A Second Letter from the Friend to Michael Erickson
A Response from Michael Erickson to the Friend