Book Reviews

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Written by: Tony Nichols

Created: 01 September 2016

“Child, Arise – A Spiritual Handbook For Survivors Of Sexual Abuse”
by Jane N Dowling, David Lovell Publishing, Melbourne, 2015.
(awarded the National Christian Book Award by SPCKA/Sparklit)

“Child Arise” by Jane Dowling is a Christian “Handbook for Survivors of Sexual Abuse”,  especially abuse by clergy. The book is a gentle, almost tremulous, series of personal reflections on Biblical passages, whose genesis lies in her fearful preparations to appear before the Royal Commission for Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse. It is a book by a victim for other victims by one who has spent countless hours meditating on the Scriptures and applying them to her own situation.

Evangelical Christians might be surprised that a Roman Catholic author can so powerfully apply Bible passages to the painful journey of survival, without ignoring the original context of the texts chosen, and their place in the unfolding scheme of Divine revelation. “Child, Arise” helps the reader feel the pain, shame and paralysis of victims of sexual abuse, but provides inspiration, encouragement and hope from prayerful reflection on the words of God.
 
A.H (Tony) Nichols.

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Written by: Karen Morris

Created: 01 June 2016

Understanding Jesus and Muhammad
By Bernie Power

If you ever talk to Muslims about faith, then Bernie Power has written the book you need. There are many books about Islam or the person of Muhammad written to inform Christians, but this book is actually for Muslims. Finally, we have a book we can give away, written specifically with the questions of Muslims in mind.

Understanding Jesus and Muhammad explains the truth about those history-changing men for the person wanting to make an informed decision. It is honest and hard hitting without being aggressive or offensive.

There are numerous unexamined ‘defeater beliefs’ (see Deconstructing Defeater Beliefs by Tim Keller) deeply ingrained in Muslim thought, and Bernie addresses them in a way that is warm, expert and accessible. The book reflects Bernie’s love of the Bible; deep knowledge of the Qur’an and Hadiths; and his love for Muslims.

Each chapter was originally a pamphlet Bernie wrote to explore difficult ideas with Muslims. Among the chapters are pairs such as:

‘The sinlessness of Jesus Christ’ 

‘Was Muhammad Sinless?’;

’The miracles of Jesus’ and ‘Muhammad and miracles’;

’Jesus, violence and peace’ and ’Muhammad and violence’.

Presenting these and many other important topics (Women, Trinity, Death, Resurrection and Faith) in this way provides a transparency and intelligibility about the issues.

Bernie worked amongst Muslims in Asia and the Middle East for decades and his fluency in Arabic, his passion for Muslims and his PhD in the hadiths are the foundation for the genuine expertise evident in this book.

I have already read this with a friend, and many wide-ranging discussions ensued. Don’t miss the opportunities you have to do the same. Buy it, read it and give it away to your Muslim friend.

Karen Morris

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Written by: Ben Underwood

Created: 01 June 2016

Living with a Wild God

A non-believer’s search for the truth about everything
Barbara Ehrenreich
Granta, 2014

I have developed a habit of reading Christian memoirs, especially those writings which reflect on a conversion of one kind or another. Lately I’ve enjoyed Thomas Oden’s A Change of Heart, Peter Hitchen’s The Rage Against God, Esther Baker’s I Once Was A Buddhist Nun and Francis Spufford’s Unapologetic, among others. Now Barbara Ehrenreich, author of Living with a Wild God, is resolutely not a Christian; she refuses monotheism, rejects any idea of a perfect God with a good plan for our lives. Yet she was, as a teenaged atheist, driven to discover ‘what’s really going on here?’(p37), that is, what is life about? What is the meaning of it all? Living with a Wild God is about that quest of hers, which she dropped for most of her adult life of writing and social activism, but has returned to in her seventies. The book a very personal wrestle with her upbringing, her attempts to build a foundation for knowledge and, centrally, her desire to come to grips with an overwhelming mystical experience she had as a young woman.

Ehrenreich’s unfinished business with the events of her young life is dramatically described at the beginning of the book. While her personal papers were being sorted and sent off to a university library for preservation, she kept back  

‘a thick reddish folder or envelope of the old fashioned kind, tied by a string. It had survived for about forty-eight years through god knows how many moves from state to state and from one apartment to another. In all that time I never opened it and never mentioned or referred to it. But somehow I had always remembered to pack it in the bottom of a suitcase, no matter how chaotic the circumstances. Future graduate students could snicker over my love affairs and political idealism if they were so minded, but they could not have this.’ (pX)

In the folder was a series of loose leaf, intermittently produced, personal writings from her teenaged years that led up to ‘an event so strange, so cataclysmic, that I never in all the intervening years wrote or spoke about it’ (pXII). Ehrenreich knew that these papers required ‘a major job of exegesis, a strenuous reconstruction of all that I once thought was better left unsaid’. Hence Living with a Wild God, and if that doesn’t intrigue you, I don’t know who you are.

The quest begins in Ehrenreich’s awareness of the brevity and apparent futility of life. Her family raised her to reject religion in favour of an anti-authoritarian atheism, and to embrace thinking as the road to the answers to questions that trouble you, and so Ehrenreich seeks to exercise her sharp young mind in pursuing her quest to make sense of life by thinking. There are a couple of problems she faces in this. One is finding a sure place to think out from. The rationalist Ehrenreich tries to begin with radical doubt, and quickly discovers that there’s ‘simply no way to get from “I” to “not I” once you’ve boxed yourself in to what I later learned is called Western dualism’ (p37). Ehrenreich seems genuinely to have struggled to be anything but a solipsist until her early twenties, and even after that she was not really convinced about the reality of other minds until she had children (p218).

Another difficulty she has in her quest is that she began to experience episodes of altered perception, moments where, ‘something peeled off the visible world, taking with it all meaning, inference, association, labels and words’ (p47), where ‘all that was familiar would drain out of the world around me’ (p49). The teenaged Ehrenreich wrote that, ‘it is as if I am only consciousness, and not an individual at all, both a part of and apart from my environment. Strange. Everything looks strange as if I’d never seen it before.’ (p49). Ehrenreich can see how a materialist, neurological explanation might account for these episodes, but she is not ready simply to understand these things as mere temporary perceptual breakdowns. She wonders whether they are instead perceptual breakthroughs—glimpses of the substance of things lying under the named world.

But then these episodes of dissociation are completely surpassed by an experience she has at seventeen. Early one morning, walking in an unfamiliar town, returning from a skiing trip,

‘I found whatever I had been looking for since the articulation of my quest, or perhaps, given my mental passivity at the moment, whatever had been looking for me.’ (p115)

‘[T]he world flamed into life. … It was a furious encounter with a living substance that was coming at me through all things at once … the only condition was overflow.’ (p116)

After that she knew

‘that the clunky old reality machine would never work the same way again. I knew that the heavens had opened, and poured into me, and I into them.’ (p117)

That was the day ‘the truth arrived in all its blinding glory’, but Ehrenreich felt it was an experience she could neither speak nor recapture, although it divided her life decisively into ‘before’ and ‘after’. It was an experience she could not make sense of, and as she writes her memoir, she interprets the experience as affecting her as a trauma, a catastrophe, knocking her into a spin and leaving her feeling like a failure, unable to testify to the truth she had encountered. Then it was time to go to college pursue the ambition of becoming a scientist that she knew would win her father’s approval. Ehrenreich seeks a new start in ‘the data, the theories, the mathematical and physical rules that other, more knowledgeable people had come up with’ (p145)

Yet even in the lab she is haunted by the idea that there is an Other seeking her out. Her thesis involved seeking to measure the ways voltage varied with current in silicon electrodes, but the voltages would not settle on fixed values, they oscillated in ways no-one expected, or could explain. Unhappy, unappreciated and under pressure, she wonders whether she is encountering ‘something that was attempting to communicate with me through the voltage tracings, if only I could make out the message’.  

There’s much more in this narrative about Ehrenreich’s early life — her difficult relationships with her father and mother, for example, and the book is an engaging and frank attempt to reconstruct the inner life of the young Barbara. But what I wanted most of all to know is how she would finally try to integrate her ‘Encounter at Lone Pine’ with her view of reality. When she does do this, in the final chapters, she refuses to countenance any consideration of God, theistically understood. From what she writes, she seems to do this out of sheer determined prejudice, believing for various unarticulated reasons that God is some kind of easy non-answer, a refusal to think. It feels like there is also deep loyalty to her family way operating here. I must say this seems itself an easy and probably unfair shutting down of the possibility theism might be true. What she is prepared to try to integrate into her atheism is that there may really be an Other or Others: living (although perhaps not organically), intentional (although not necessarily benevolent or moral), perhaps emergent within the universe and present to us in various ways (through nature as well as in experiences like Ehrenreich’s). Ehrenreich’s last words in the book are ‘it may be seeking us out’ (p237).

What shall we say to this? This is the inner world of a particular card-carrying, vocal atheist. Who’d have known, if Ehrenreich did not have such candour, and the conviction that she owed it to her younger self to write this book? Ehrenreich is doing what we all seek to do to various degrees, that is, to make sense of the world as we experience it. Reading Ehrenreich’s own testimony to her experience, it hardly seems like a narrative confirmation of atheism, a world devoid of transcendent glory. Rather it seems like it’s a world where it’s hard to shake the idea that Someone is there, encountering us, and seeking our attention.

Ben Underwood, WA

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Written by: Dale Appleby

Created: 01 March 2016

Book Review: Trapped in the Gap: Doing Good in Indigenous Australia
By Emma Kowal
Berghahn 2015

Emma Kowal describes herself as a ‘native ethnographer’, by which she means an anthropologist studying her own kind. Her own kind in this book are ‘White anti-racists’, a term she defines carefully. By ‘White’ she doesn't necessarily refer to skin colour, rather it applies to those who ‘willingly and unwillingly, knowingly and unknowingly, participate in the racialised societal structure that positions them as 'White' and accordingly grants them privileges associated with the dominant Australian culture.’ (11). Anti-racist is defined from an anthropological perspective as ‘a culture, discourse and identity’.

Kowal is studying a group of health workers like herself (she worked in the Northern Territory as a doctor and is now Associate Professor of Anthropology at Deakin University). These are 'White anti-racists' who are trying to do good in Indigenous communities, and who want to be distinguished from past attempts by colonial settlers such as missionaries and the Assimilationists. Her own experience of working in the field led her to see that there was deep questioning as to whether they were actually doing anything to 'close the gap'. Was it just another colonial enterprise? One of the workers she tells of critiques herself by saying, ‘nearly every health promotion message she advocates conflicts with the social practices of the Aboriginal people she works with.’ (7).

There is a gap between the promises of liberal multiculturalism and the experiences of Whites who seek to help the Indigenous minorities. That is where many of those most committed to do good are trapped. Why are they trapped? Partly because of the way they understand themselves.
The understanding of 'difference' between Indigenous and non–Indigenous is part of a set of beliefs held by ‘non– Indigenous, left-wing, middle-class professionals who work in Indigenous affairs’. Kowal's term is 'remediable difference' – ‘a difference that can be improved.’ These beliefs affirm the positive value of the culture of Indigenous people, recognize the problems that stem from dispossession, displacement, intergenerational trauma, and the responsibility of the Australian people and governments for the problems and the obligation to help. 'Self-determination' and 'community consultation' are crucial to this set of beliefs.

One of the tensions for White anti-racists is between equality and difference. ‘...the beliefs of White anti-racists are underpinned by the idea that Indigenous people are distinctively different from White people (difference), and … that White people have both the ability and an obligation to improve the lives of Indigenous people (equality).’ There are distinctions in 'difference'. Some difference is good (the traditional culture), some is bad (the things that need to be erased in order to 'close the gap').

Serious questions arise at this point. ‘..when we close the gap and make Indigenous people statistically equal to non-Indigenous people, could we be making them less Indigenous?’ Is this a form of assimilation? One of the ways out of this dilemma is to see the problems as essentially structural. We are not changing the people only the structures that cause their disadvantage.

But what if 'agency' was also a significant factor? Remediable difference assumes that Indigenous agency (choice) will mirror the values and choices of White anti-racists. But what if Indigenous people were 'radically different'? What if they had radically different priorities and values to White people? One of the difficulties is that Indigenous people don't always seem to want to follow the values and behaviours that White anti-racists think they should.

A paradigm shift away from self-determination is also under way. The Intervention challenged the principles of self-determination. Remedialism has replaced remediable difference. Cultural difference will no longer be relevant.

Another threat to White anti-racists understanding is the concept of the 'authentic Indigenous voice'.  Pearson and Langton have been instrumental in ‘ending the fantasy that Indigenous people at a community, regional or national level present a unified view.’ (163)

‘The dilemmas … described in this book illustrate the broader contradictions of liberal multiculturalism.’ (165) They reflect the crisis of universalism, particularly of a universal human nature.  Culture theory recognises multiple ways of being human. Differences between groups and their behaviours could now be regarded as mere difference. Not difference related to a universal norm or even the norms of another culture. No longer 'remediable difference'. Just 'culture' without any power relations implied.

Possible alternatives? Decouple Indigeneity from disadvantage and marginality. Loosen the definition to include all kinds of Indigenous people. Redefine it to free it from its opposition to whiteness and from its anchor to the past. Perhaps allow multiple identities or layered (Pearson) identity. For White anti-racists an alternative politics could explore non-stigmatised, non-settler identities. ‘A more reasonable goal may be a plurality of identity … which would reject the idea of mutually exclusive categories without abandoning categories altogether.’ (169).

Like Peter Sutton's The Politics of Suffering, Kowal's book confronts a disturbing reality. The Gap is not closing. And the attempts by White anti-racists don't seem to be helping. Her idea is that part of the problem is how White anti-racists define themselves, and part of this problem is how they define the Indigenous people they are trying to help. Her solution lies in the area of new definitions and understandings of identity. Her suggestions are tentative. The debate is still fluid. Christians have something to say about this.

Dale Appleby, WA