Monday, March 31, 2014

Rauschenbusch and the "Kingdom of Evil" (1): Introduction

As of late, I've been interested in retrieving a theology of the "principalities and powers." The late New Testament theologian Walter Wink is justly famous for his pioneering work in this area. But I'm interesting in developing this constructive project along somewhat different lines, more in line with dialectical theology -- and that leads to me to one of Wink's major inspirations, the Episcopal lawyer-theologian William Stringfellow.

Now, there are a number of reasons Stringfellow can be difficult to interpret, and one of the key stems from the question: Just how does one place his work? In terms of situating him amidst dialectical thinkers, his personal friendships with Karl Barth and Jacques Ellul would certainly be relevant, and I've caught more than a whiff of Bonhoeffer here in there in the Stringfellow corpus as well. Still, and perhaps a bit tricky, is placing Stringfellow in another context, that of North American radical social Christianity. Numerous strands from this tradition permeated Stringfellow's life and work: His leadership in the World Student Christian federation, his advocacy work within the Episcopal Church, his personal friendships with radical peace activists and his legal work with the East Harlem Protestant Parish are a few key such points of contact.

I have some homework to do, and I might just as well hash some of it out here. Broadly speaking, I'd like to get more clarity about the emergence of modern social Christianity -- it's systematic theological implications in particular. To that end, I'd like to develop a sort of genealogical story about socio-political accounts of sin and salvation in modern and contemporary Christian thought, particularly in the Americas. Just how, I wonder, did such conceptions of social sin spring up on North American soil, seeded as it has been by the austere Augustinian piety of the Puritans, the revivalist pioneer spirit of the Second Great Awakening, and the flurry of pentacostal and charismatic tongues since Azusa? This question intrigues me, though an American church historian I am not.

In sketching such a genealogy, largely to situate my own project in some sort of intelligible framework, I'm taking a second look at the Social Gospel movement -- not in its broad historical contours so much, but in terms of its ramifications for systematic theology. The go-to source here is the great Baptist activist and theologian Walter Rauschenbusch. My basic text is his last, and some say greatest work, A Theology for the Social Gospel (1917). Reinhold Niebuhr, whom most of us perhaps think of as one of the most strident critics of the Social Gospel project, nonetheless praised Rauschenbusch as "the real founder of Social Christianity in this country....It's most brilliant and generally satisfying exponent." (You can read this text online for free here.)

In particular, and in a few posts to follow, I plan to explore in some depth WR's doctrine of social sin, which he develops in chapters 4-9. What I think we'll see in these chapters is an incipient form of a theology of the principalities and powers, but one that is seeped in Rischl's ethical Kingdom theology and can be traced back, perhaps, to the real origin of modern social Christianity, the dogmatic theology of Friedrich Schleiermacher.

Thanks for listening in.


Friday, March 28, 2014

Writing Theology in America Requires Prolegomena - Paul M. van Buren’s “Austin Dogmatics”

Certain theological circles has developed a distaste for prolegomena, comparing it to so much “throat-clearing” that is best circumvented. “Just start right in with talking about God,” some folks are wont to say. There is certainly something to this since prolegomena has been known to take on too much importance. But prolegomena performs an important function nevertheless. In short: prolegomena gives one a chance to identify which God one is talking about. For Christian theology, this means talking about “the God who has a history,” and not some abstract “God” in general.

In the following paragraph, van Buren seems to be something of a prophet insofar as he rightly placed his finger—approx. 55 years ago!—on a trend-line in American culture that has only gotten worse. As usual, bold is mine.

Paul M. van Buren, The Austin Dogmatics: 1957–1958, (Cascade, 2012), 4.
No, here as elsewhere, it matters; it matters desperately to the whole life and work of the church that we know what we are doing and why. It matters that our account of how and why we come to our subject be taken just as seriously as church dogmatics as, for example, the doctrine of Christ. Prolegomena is also part of the dogmatic function of the church. So also today: once grant that the “God” in whom over 90 percent of the American people claim to believe is the same God that the church confesses; once grant that the “Supreme Being” faith in whim identifies an American, according to our president; once grant that this is any way the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, without most serious reservations, and the citadel is surrendered. I call to witness the tragic destruction of the apostate German Christians, as they were called, who gave in right at this point to Hitler and to the cultural religion of Germany, and paid the price. The church in our land is also under subtle attack by a powerful cultural religion, known as the “American Way of Life,” and unless we are clear about what is at stake, then like the church of Sardis (Rev 3:1), we may have the name of being alive, but we are as good as dead.
Go buy a copy and see what else PMvB has to say.


Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Snatched from My Bookshelf

One friend of DET has issued an appeal for all of us to communicate more about what we're reading, so to honor the spirit of that request, I thought I'd highlight several books I completed during the past several months, with some mini-reviews.

1. J.I. Packer and N.T. Wright, Anglican Evangelical Identity. These three essays, two by Packer and one by Wright, are aimed especially at the conservative evangelical minority within the Church of England. These texts are a little on the old side and don't reflect developments in England and the Anglican communion worldwide during the past couple of decades, but this book is still worth a read. Packer is, of course, the Reformed, low-church traditionalist, whereas Wright mainly seeks to challenge and broaden how evangelical identity is defined. The book is predictably conservative and a tad grumpy, but both authors are excellent communicators. Here, also, Packer gives a classic take on the marks of the evangelical.

2. Langdon Gilkey, Gilkey on Tillich. Something from the other end of the theological spectrum. The late Gilkey himself, of course, was a significant theologian in his own right: Not many writers could get away with a title like this (Imagine a book titled Jackson on Gilkey on Tillich. Kind of a stretch, isn't it?). Gilkey is justly famous for an article he wrote that pretty much (many would say) dismantled the biblical theology movement. Tillich expert Wesley Wildman finds this book -- and Gilkey's relationship to his teacher as a whole -- to be rather odd; be that as it may, I loved it. By the end of the book I was almost convinced that Tillich was a crypto-Hegelian, with a highly dialectical conception of the threat of nonbeing being somehow integrated into the very ground of being itself, which Gilkey construes in dynamic terms. Repeated references to Whitehead make me wonder, though, if I'm not being led into something of an interpretative rabbit hole.

3. Herman Bavinck, Essays on Religion, Science and Society. The great Dutch, Kuyperian theologian is justly famous for his magisterial four-volume Reformed Dogmatics, but his interests were much broader than confessional Christian theology. These essays, edited by leading Bavinck expert John Bolt, come from near the end of his life (he died in 1921). In these essays, Bavinck offers fascinating analyses of the philosophy of education, the philosophy of religion and the then-nascent field of modern psychology. His political philosophy is a bit on the conservative side (he did, after all represent the Anti-Revolutionary Party in the Dutch parliament), but I loved how he approaches modern political thought as, essentially, a tale of two Genevans, Calvin and Rousseau. He was also a skeptic toward Darwinian evolutionary theory, which was perhaps not the grand slam of a theory a hundred years ago that the mainstream scientific community views it as today; still, Bavinck was very respectful and open in his dialogue with modern sciences. Contemporary creationists and intelligent design proponents might do well to imitate his manner of debate.

4. Richard R. Niebuhr, Schleiermacher on Christ and Religion: A New Introduction. I'm pleased to see this book has been reprinted by Wipf & Stock (You can order it here). This is several decades old, but I think it's highly relevant to revisionist retrievals being done in Schleiermacher studies today. The author is at pains to rescue the modern of modern theology from what he sees as misreading critiques by Barth and Brunner, interpretations that cast a long shadow over the reception of Schleiermacher throughout the 20th century. Rather than offering an overview of FS's work as a whole, Niebuhr offers in-depth forays into several crucial texts -- namely, the Christmas Eve dialogues (a text which, I'll admit, I find incredibly difficult to get into) and the lectures on hermeneutics and ethics. In the second half of the book, Niebuhr offers a compelling reading of The Christian Faith. Schleiermacher, in Niebuhr's reading, construes Christian theology as a positive science that brings to cognitive expression the affective, person-forming faith of its Redeemer, as that faith has been mediated historically through the succession of Christian communities.

There you have it: Four books, two conservative and two liberal. The Force is in balance.

Now what have y'all been reading lately, gentle readers?


Monday, March 24, 2014

Another review of my “The Sign of the Gospel”

Albert Shepherd, who runs a theology blog that I keep an eye on, recently reviewed my book - The Sign of the Gospel: Toward an Evangelical Doctrine of Infant Baptism after Karl Barth – for Reviews in Religion and Theology. It appears in the current number: vol. 21, issue 2 (2014). Shepherd also posted about it on his blog, where he includes a “short addendum” making clear that – alas – I have not succeeded in convincing him of my constructive proposal.

But he has nice things to say about the book anyway. For instance, Shepherd says in his addendum that “this is a fine work which understands Barth well and winsomely interacts with his thought.” In the review he closes with the following words:
He [McMaken] compellingly argues that renewed attention should be given to Barth’s doctrine of baptism, and also provides his own unique voice to the wider conversation. In doing so he provides a fruitful contribution to the ongoing dialogue on baptism.
But perhaps my favorite bit was when Shepherd conceded that in my constructive proposal I succeeded in “showing persuasively that this is another consistent route that Barth could have taken.”

So, my thanks to Shepherd for another positive review for this book! Kind of makes one want to go out a buy a copy…


Saturday, March 22, 2014

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

…or, Something to keep you busy over the weekend…

…or, The Past Fortnight in the Theoblogosphere.

Well, I’ve been slacking off again. It’s been three weeks since the last links post. I know, I know. It’s shameful, really. But there’s nothing for it but to soldier on. At least it has been a busy three weeks here at DET. We’ve had lots of good posts, thanks in part to new DET contributor Scott Jackson. He’s already got a number of posts lined up in the hopper, so keep an eye out especially for his contributions. Now if I could only get the other contributors jump-started a bit…

In any case, here’s what’s been going on here at DET:

Now for a collection of links from elsewhere in the theo-blogosphere:

See you next time!


Thursday, March 20, 2014

Princeton Barth Conference – I’ll be there to speak about Gollwitzer

I posted previously about the annual Barth conference in Princeton, coming around for another iteration this June. At that time I mentioned that I had no plans to attend, but that “one never knows.”

As it turns out, I’ll be there. Presenting. About Gollwitzer.

My paper’s title will be: “‘Shalom, Shalom, Shalom Israel!’: Jews and Judaism in Helmut Gollwitzer’s Life and Theology”

Excited yet? No? Shame on you. Yes? Of course you are! There was plenty to be excited about before, but this is (for me) the icing on the cake. I’m very much looking forward to it.

The rest of the concurrent sessions look fascinating as well, and I’m sad that I won’t be able to attend the ones going on at the same time as my paper. You can find a complete schedule for the event – including the concurrent sessions - by following this link.

This will be my first trip back to Princeton since my dissertation defense. I’m looking forward to it. See you there?


Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Karl Barth in Conversation – Teasers from David Guretzki

Ever since this publication project got underway, I have described it as the “revised and expanded” proceedings from the 2010 KBBC. So I figured that I would put together a post or two that highlights the “expanded” part of that description. If what you see here sounds interesting to you and you would like to read more, buy the book!

Here is a glimpse at what David Guretzki got up to in his introductory appendix entitled, “Become Conversant with Barth’s Church Dogmatics: A Primer.” David has made versions of this piece available before, but he revised and expanded for the book. The expansion included a section on Barth as a “fractal” theologian. Here’s a little bit about what that means.

W. Travis McMaken and David W. Congdon (eds.), Karl Barth in Conversation (Pickwick, 2014), 294–95.

Practically speaking, reading Barth the fractal theologian means keeping the relationship of the parts to the whole constantly in mind and therefore resisting the temptation to isolate one small section of Barth from the rest of his dogmatic work. As each pine twig does not stand on its own but is nevertheless representative of the whole tree, so all of Barth’s dogmatic statements need to be understood relative to the larger whole. But note also that just as in the real world (and in fractal geometry) each pine twig is not an exact replica of the whole pine tree in every detail, so too in Barth’s CD we should not abstract a detailed passage from its larger whole—in which case we may be in danger of losing the forest for the trees—and expect that we now know all there is to know about Barth. Nor should we assume that a basic knowledge of the whole outline of the CD is a sure predictor of the minute dogmatic details.

In this regard, I’ve sometimes been disheartened when I’ve heard or read individuals who make a grand statement about some aspect of Barth’s theology based on a detailed reading of a small portion of the CD. While it is entirely appropriate and necessary to make evaluations of these sorts, the fractal complexity of the CD requires a degree of chastening and humility on the reader’s part. Amazingly, looking at one pine twig may give real insight into the shape of the pine tree, but humility requires an examination of all the pine twigs together in their organic unity to make a confident assertion about what the pine tree really looks like. Of course, this is a fundamental principle of any sound hermeneutic employed when reading any large text, and it is a hermeneutic which we do well to heed as we read Barth as a fractal theologian.


Monday, March 17, 2014

Quiz: Who Penned These Lines?

Theology quiz for the day: Who wrote these lines? Extra credit if you can name the text as well:

That task [of constructing theology according to Luther's principle] I essay in the full consciousness that my action is justified and rendered imperative by the standard writings of the Reformation. But if we can rightly know God only if we know Him through Christ, then we can know Him only if we belong to the community of believers. Not only, however, are God and all the operations of His grace to be construed through the revelation in Christ, but even sin can be appreciated only in virtue of the forgiveness of sins which is Christ's special gift.

Need another hint? The same author penned these lines a few paragraphs later:

[I]f anyone builds Christian theology on a substructure of pretended Natural Theology, the rationalistic arguments of Augustine about original sin, and those of Anselm about the nature of redemption, he thereby takes his stand outside the sphere of regeneration, which is coterminous with the community of believers.


Friday, March 14, 2014

Faith and Hope, or, When Calvin had a good day in 1538

I’m currently reading John Hesselink’s book on Calvin’s First Catechism (WJK, 1997). Truth in advertising, Calvin didn’t really write the following in 1538. That’s just when he published a Latin version of this catechism, having previously published it in the Genevan vernacular for Geneva’s own use . . . in 1537. But in 1538 he was in the midst of the controversy over his dismissal with Farel from Geneva and wanted the catechism to get wider circulation for propaganda purposes. On top of that, there’s a lot of parallel between this catechism and the 1536 edition of the Institutes and I haven’t checked to see if this language comes from that earlier work. So my alternative title might be two years off…

In any case, enough splitting hairs. What Calvin says about faith and hope here is an instance of his linguistic genius which rightly earned him a renowned place in the history of Protestant theology. As always, bold is mine:
If faith (as we have said) is a sure persuasion of the truth of God, a persuasion that cannot lie to us, deceive us, or vex us, then those who have grasped this assurance expect that it will straightway come to pass that God will fulfill his promises, since according to their opinion they cannot but be true. To sum up, hope is nothing else than the expectation of those things that faith believed to have been truly promised by God.

Thus faith believes God to be truthful; hope waits for him to show us truth at the right occasion. Faith believes God to be our Father; hope waits for him ever to act as such toward us. Faith believes eternal life has been given us; hope waits for it sometime to be revealed. Faith is the foundation on which hope leans; hope nourishes faith and sustains it. For as no one can expect from God anything unless he has previously believed God’s promises, so on the other hand ought we by patiently hoping and waiting to sustain and cherish the weakness of our faith, lest it wearily fall. (p. 27)


Wednesday, March 12, 2014

Introducing Scott Jackson

[Ed. note - It is my pleasure to welcome the newest member of the DET contributor family. He's done some good work over at his blog, Theology of Freedom, and I'm excited to have him on board.]

I wish to thank Travis McMaken for the privilege of writing for DET. (Read some of his published stuff: It's not bad.)

Please allow me a brief self introduction. I grew up as a preacher’s kid in Southern Baptist Churches, mostly in Alabama; it was quite an intense and thorough formation. With a scholarship for PKs in tow, I attended Samford University, a Baptist-affiliated school in Birmingham, where I studied journalism and worked for the college newspaper. Other passions intervened, though, and reoriented my life plan. On the weekend I graduated, nearly 20 years ago, I was also confirmed in the Episcopal Church, where I’ve remained ever since. As a graduation gift, I received a copy of Tillich’s Systematic Theology, and I was soon off to pursue a master’s in theology at Emory University where I endeavored to seek “the Truth” (with a Kierkegaardian capital "T") – at least that’s what I said in my application essay. Early on, I was into process theology (Teilhard de Chardin especially), but in the years to follow I came to identify myself more with the “neo-orthodox” and “post-liberals,” two of the most beleaguered theological labels of the 20th century. Today, I'm tending to eschew labels altogether.

Like many other DET readers, no doubt, I have this addiction to the “Big Questions,” so (of course) I entered the Ph.D. program in systematics at the University of Chicago. I was pretty naive about the academic job market and practical matters like that: All I knew is I wanted to study. I studied with some very fine teachers at Chicago; Prof. Kathryn Tanner was my major advisor and ably supervised my dissertation on Barth. While in Chicago, I lived among some marvelous scholars and divinity students at the Disciples Divinity House. They mostly tolerated my piano playing on the baby grand in the common area, except during reading week. I also got involved at Brent House, the Episcopal campus ministry, and worked there a couple of years.

I met my future wife in Chicago and we eventually moved to Massachusetts. I’ve done a bit of adjunct teaching in general religious studies and some work in lay ministry among young adults, students and the homeless. We now live in Northampton with our son, about 200 yards from the gravesite of Jerusha Edwards and David Brainerd. I like to think of Northampton as haunted by the ghosts of three theologians who once lived here (though I don’t believe in ghosts, and this is not that kind of blog) – Jonathan Edwards, Sojourner Truth and William Stringfellow. Perhaps I'll write something about them here.

As for my research interests, I’ll briefly tag the main ones here – Reformed theology, radical politics and social theory. For the most part, I’ve written about Christology, the doctrine of God and theodicy and more recently have dipped into theo-politics. Most recently I've been working especially on the political theology of William Stringfellow. Unfortunately (as it seems to me), I've never gotten over being obsessed with the question of revelation and the epistemological problems posed by modernity. Judging from some of the conversations I've followed at DET and elsewhere, apparently, I'm not the only one.


Monday, March 10, 2014

Karl Barth in Conversation – Teasers from Christian T. Collins Winn

Ever since this publication project got underway, I have described at the “revised and expanded” proceedings from the 2010 KBBC. So I figured that I would put together a post or two that highlights the “expanded” part of that description. So if what you see here sounds interesting to you and you would like to read more, buy the book

Here is a glimpse at what Christian T. Collins Winn got up to in his response to John Drury’s putting Barth into conversation with John Wesley. Both Drury’s essay and Collins Winn’s response are new to the volume.

W. Travis McMaken and David W. Congdon (eds.), Karl Barth in Conversation (Pickwick, 2014), 23–24.

Moving from Christology to ecclesiology and ethics, for Barth, “revolution,” though only properly applied to the work of God in Christ (i.e., the revolution of God), includes or elicits a corresponding human action which is described as “revolutionary” in character. As Barth notes elsewhere, “all ecclesiology is grounded, critically limited, but also positively determined by Christology”; and this is no less true for “Christian ethics,” especially as concerning Christian identification with the poor. “He whom the Bible calls God is on the side of the poor. Therefore the Christian attitude to poverty can consist only of a corresponding allegiance.” In an even more precise formula: “The Church is witness of the fact that the Son of Man came to save the lost. And this implies that—casting all false impartiality aside—the Church must concentrate first on the lower and lower levels of human society. The poor, the socially and economically weak and threatened, will always be the object of its primary and particular concern.” One can find similar passages throughout the Church Dogmatics. In an especially succinct formulation, which gathers up the various forms of Christian solidarity with humanity in all of its misery and deprivation, Barth describes all this as the “revolt against disorder.” “Christians are summoned by God’s command not only to zeal for God’s honor but also to a simultaneous and related revolt, and therefore to entry into conflict.” Christian solidarity with the dispossessed, the poor, the outcast, the refugee, the sick, those rightfully or wrongfully imprisoned, is nothing less than a revolt against the prevailing system and its judgment as to human worth, dignity, and life.

One would have to imagine that Wesley, the political conservative, would have found it difficult to identify “revolution” with “Christianity.” Nonetheless, though lacking the same systematic grounding, Wesley shares in Barth’s convictions regarding the necessity of Christian solidarity with the poor and the dispossessed. Furthermore, his writings also reveal a radicalism toward the prevailing order that comes close to the spirit of Barth’s “revolt against disorder.”

Wesley’s work with the poor is well-known, but what is less well-known is that Wesley made solidarity with the poor constitutive of the maintenance of one’s salvation.


Friday, March 07, 2014

Barth on God as Father and Creator, or, against Natural Theology

I’m teaching a class on “Faith & Reason” this Spring, so I have been thinking anew and in many different ways about the possibility of natural knowledge of God, the role and limits of human rationality in theology, etc. At the same time, I’m slowly working my way through Barth’s discussion of the Trinity in CD 1.1. I found this lovely paragraph hiding there. As always, bold is mind and italics are original:
Jesus’ message about God the Father must not be taken to mean that Jesus expressed the well-known truth that the world must have and really has a Creator and was venturing to give this Creator the familiar human name of father. It must not be taken to mean that Jesus had in mind what all serious philosophy has called the first cause or supreme good, the esse a se or ens perfectissimum, the universum, the ground and abyss of meaning, the unconditioned, the limit, the critical negation of origin, and that He consecrated it and gave it a Christian interpretation and baptised it by means of the name “father,” which was not entirely unknown in the vocabulary of religion. In this regard we can only say that this entity, the supposed philosophical equivalent of the Creator God, has nothing whatever to do with Jesus’ message about God the Father whether or not the term “father” be attached to it. Nor would it have anything to do with it even if the principle: Die and become! Were related and perhaps identified with the transcendent origin and goal of the dialectic of losing life and gaining it. An idea projected with the claim that it is an idea of God is from the standpoint of the exclusiveness of the biblical testimonies an idol, not because it is an idea but because of its claim. Even the genuinely pure and for that very reason treacherously pure idea of God in a Plato cannot be excluded. If the exclusiveness is valid, Jesus did not proclaim the familiar Creator God and interpret Him by the unfamiliar name of Father. He revealed the unknown Father, His Father, and in so doing, and only in so doing, He told us for the first time that the Creator is, what He is and that He is as such our Father.


Wednesday, March 05, 2014

Miscellaneous Book and Conference Announcements Post

A few friends from the theo-blogging and academic theology worlds have been in touch recently to ask that I help to promote some events and books. To my chagrin, I’ve sort of let them pile up a little. So here they are, all in one post! Should be easier for folks to access anyway – you only have to surf over once.

Anyway, this book and these conferences look very interesting. I only wish I had more time (and continuing education funding) so that I could take full advantage of them. But if you end up going, tell them DET sent you!


Monday, March 03, 2014

Barth’s Christologically-modified double-predestinarianism - Mondays with McMaken

Time for another foray into the wonderful world of Barth and baptism. But we are still in chapter two, which deals with “Election, Soteriology, and Barth’s ‘No’ to Sacramental Infant Baptism.” It’s some of the “election” bit that I want to highlight today. This is less of an “A-ha!” moment in the course of the argument, but it is a piece that I like that falls somewhere in the middle of a sub-argument. It ties some things together.

W. Travis McMaken, The Sign of the Gospel: Toward an Evangelical Doctrine of Infant Baptism after Karl Barth, Emerging Scholars (Fortress, 2013), 78.
As noted in the above discussion of Ursinus, Reformed theology developed further the traditional Augustinian account of predestination. Rather than a single predestination where God actively elects but only passively rejects, the Reformed established symmetry between these two aspects of predestination so that God is understood as directly active in both. All of this occurs within the broader context of sacramental soteriology, where Christ objectively achieves salvation that must somehow be subsequently appropriated by or applied to the individual. Where such a soteriology is in place, as Hunsinger rightly notes, “a split vision of human destiny readily follows in which the human race diverges finally into two cities, the one under way to eternal life, the other to eternal perdition.” The doctrines of predestination discussed above embody this “split vision” and divergence to greater or lesser degrees of clarity. By christologically modifying the traditional Reformed double-predestinarian position, Barth rejects this split vision and the soteriological outlook that undergirds it.
Want to see “the above discussion of Ursinus”? Want to see where Hunsinger says that? Want to know which “doctrines of predestination” were “discussed above”? Want to hear more about Barth’s christologically-modified double-predestinarianism? Say it with me: Go buy the book!


Saturday, March 01, 2014

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

…or, Something to keep you busy over the weekend…

…or, The Past Fortnight in the Theoblogosphere.

Wow, it’s been pretty busy around DET in the three weeks since last installment of links were posted. We had the DET Book Giveaway, the publication of the KBBC book (see left sidebar – order now!), and a good ongoing conversation sparked by a guest post by Collin Cornell. In the meantime, I’ve been collecting lots of links . . .

Here are the recent DET links:

And now for links from elsewhere: