We all know the disappointment that can ensue when we attain the cause of our desire (what we wanted beyond the satisfaction of a mere need). The ennui that we can receive when we realise that what caused our desire (a new job, car, house, etc.) is not actually the object of our desire.

Advertising offers us an insight into this phenomenon. When an ad attempts to sell us something, the object is presented as possessing a surplus beyond its immediate function. This is equally the case when the surplus is explicitly rejected a such. Take the example of the old ‘Image is nothing’ Sprite adverts which inform the viewer that the product would not make them more irresistible to the opposite sex, happier or the envy of others. Indeed the advertisements didn’t even claim that the drink tasted good. It simply stated that Sprite would quench your thirst.

Of course, at the obvious level, these supposedly ‘honest’ adverts explicitly lied (such drinks act as a diuretic, taking away more water from the body than they actually provide). However, at a deeper level, the adverts lied by denying a surplus while simultaneously offering one. Implicitly claiming that those who purchase their product demonstrate that they are self-aware and reflexive individuals who are free from the dictates of consumerist fetishisation. Thus Sprite could be seen as the ironic drink par excellence.

One of the most interesting examples of this creation of a surplus in advertising can be seen in adverts which don’t even have much of a product to sell. Let us take the example Coke’s Dasani, a drink which flopped in the UK and was subsequently withdrawn from the market. When it was revealed that Dasani was simply filtered tap water (produced in a factory in Sidcup) Coke responded by pointing out that this was irrelevant. That the drink itself was a lifestyle product which people would want to be seen consuming. In short, they were selling us nothing, i.e. a fictitious surplus that was not present in the virtually identical water that comes from our tap.

This surplus that adverts sell us is not explicitly stated. It is simply expressed indirectly through the desire that the product is told to inspire in others (through the image of people looking satisfied by possessing it, or unhappy by not possessing it etc.). For, as soon as a product is demythologised, it no longer emanates that mysterious ‘x’, the surplus that supposedly will offer us more than the satisfaction of a particular need. The direct, dispassionate gaze dissipates this ‘x’.

In the same way that Einstein moved from the idea that matter curved space (special relativity) to the insight that matter is the result of the curvature itself (general relativity), so ads do not describe the actual existence of an inexorable surplus that will sate our desire. Rather it is our desire that creates the surplus.

Does this not help us understand the materialist reading of negative theology? By actively not speaking of what does not exist one creates a surplus out of the nothing itself. In short, by constructing a complex and subtle conceptual safe one is led to the mistaken conclusion that some wonderful treasure must lie within. The more intricate and innovative the negation the more one is drawn to that which it seemingly protects. Nothing is thus rendered into a something by the very the presence of guardians who would seek to protect it.

Is this not what inspires Derrida’s concern that negative theology is, in fact, too positive? Thus being little more than a more sophisticated type of theological idolatry.

What I wish to explore more in upcoming posts, and in my next book, is the extent to which Christianity offers us a way beyond the idolatry of both positive and negative theology. And, of course, how this can be expressed in concrete faith collectives.

In light of the reading of forgiveness outlined below I recently returned to the story of the prodigal son, for it has often been used as a way of claiming that forgiveness is wrapped up in an economy where repentance from the son was required for the forgiveness of the father to take place. However, in re-reading the story I noticed how such a reading misses the radical nature of the forgiveness nestled there.

Firstly, the story itself is framed in such a way that the son’s repentance seems to be little more than a strategy that would enable him to return home where he could be looked after, for we read,

‘When he came to his senses, he said, “How many of my father’s hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.”’
However true repentance is not bound up with coming to ones senses, to come to ones senses is to become rational, to think of an action which will lead to desired reaction. The son is in a dire situation and so devises a plan to escape it. This is exposed as we note the reflexive nature of the sons “repentance”. Instead of the text saying something like, “in repentance he returned to his father”, it presents the repentance as something that was thought through; i.e. as a strategy.

Secondly, we can see how the fathers response to the son is enacted without any consideration of the sons reason for returning. In the parable we read, “But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him”. In other words, the father had already forgiven the son before the son could say or do anything.

In order to draw out the radical message embedded in the parable of the prodigal son I have been playing with a parable that largely mimics the original. This is a currently a draft of something that may appear in the book I am working on (a book of parables with the working title of Dis-courses),

There was once a rich man who had two sons. Now the younger of the two was impetuous by nature and said to his father, “I do not want to wait for my inheritance, please give me my share now”.

His father complied and split the inheritance between his two sons. A few days later the younger son packed his bags and departed from the home. For the next few years he squandered the money that he had been given on a life of hedonism. However the money eventually ran out and soon a famine devastated the land. He found a job feeding pigs and was so poor that he had to supplement his diet with the scrapes that he feed to the animals.
This was no life for the young man and so he thought to himself, “I have had a good time in the last few years, but perhaps I should now return to my father’s home. For there it is warm and I may be able to get some more money”. And so he began the return journey.

While he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him. The Father then said to his servants, “Bring quickly the best robe, and put it on him, and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet. And bring the fattened calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate. For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found.” And they began to celebrate.

Later that night, after the party, and while he was alone the younger son wept with sorrow and repented.

How can we even begin to approach the subject of forgiveness? It is a word that seems to have a lot of currency in personal relationships, religious movements, political discourse and even business. Yet is the forgiveness we encounter really forgiveness at all?

In politics when the word is used we can be pretty sure something is afoot, that there is a reason for the forgiveness being offered. One can assume that the word is uttered only after a variety of in depth citizen surveys have been taken and the solicitors have worked out the consequences. In short the “forgiveness” has conditions.

So to in the world of business. Here “forgiveness” is a great companion, helping to ensure return business and a good reputation. Again the word comes with implicit conditions, it is, as Derrida would say, inscribed in economics (I give you one thing in return for another).

When it comes to religion the same economic approach can also be seen at play. As John Caputo notes, “forgiveness” all too often comes after a set of criteria has been met, namely (1) an expression sorrow (2) a turning away from the act (3) a promise not to return to the act (4) a willingness to do penance. “Forgiveness” thus follows repentance.

Nothing radical there… this is the way the world does “forgiveness” and, as some theologians would point out, such a message would have been welcomed by the religious authorities of Jesus’ day. The religious system loved repentant sinners, they positively celebrated them (there is nothing quite like parading a repentant sinner in church for inspiring the faithful).

But what if Jesus had an infinitely more radical message than this? What if Jesus taught an impossible forgiveness, a forgiveness without conditions a forgiveness that would give before (some condition was met)? Now that kind of craziness would have annoyed a lot of people. “No, you don’t need to change at all, I accept you and welcome you just the way you are”. This would be the heretical image of a Jesus who hung out with drunkards and prositutues (not ex-drunkards and ex-prostitutes and not as a strategy to make them ex-drunkards and ex-prostitutes).

Yet is it not the case that it is precisely this unconditional gift of forgiveness without need of repentance/change that has the power to evoke repentance/change. As most of us know it is often impossible to change until we meet someone who says to us, “you don’t have to change, I love you just the way you are”. It is only then that the change can even begin to take place.

What if “forgiveness” that has conditions, that is wrapped up in economy, is not really forgiveness at all but rather nothing more than a prudent bet. What if such forgiveness was like a love that only loved those who loved in return i.e. a forgiveness without blood and sweat and tears? What if repentance was not the necessary condition for forgiveness but rather the freely given response to it?

I will post more on this in the next couple of days (working on a parable that will describe it in more detail)