Monthly Archives: November 2007 - Page 2

The Anabaptist Option: The Only Consistent Alternative to Catholicism?

In my recent posts on ecclesiology and ecumenism I have posted a lot on the proper self-understanding of the role of the Reformation within the Roman Catholic church.  In general I have argued that those standing in the tradition of the Magisterial Reformers should understand themselves as a protest movement in exile within the Roman Catholic church.  To be a Lutheran in particular, and to a lesser degree to be Reformed is to stand in a very particular relationship to Rome, which ostensibly could change at any time should the right set of conditions arise (what those conditions are is disputed, but the point is nevertheless the same).

However, in these discussions I have not engaged another important Christian tradition, namely that of the Radical Reformation.  Unlike the Magisterial Reformers, the anabaptists did not conceive of themselves as seeking to “reform” the Catholic church.  Rather, they saw themselves as returning the way of Jesus for the sake of the restoration of his church which had been lost in the medieval Catholic church and had not been sufficiently addressed by the Magisterial Reformers, particularly in regard to how both the Catholic churches and the Reformation churches remained wed to the power of the various European princes for the sake of security and influence (i.e. the Christendom problem).

My point in all this is not to begin advocating for an anabaptist view of the church, though that is really the tradition in which I am situated.  My point is that ecumenical discussions between churches stemming from the Magisterial Reformation and Catholics will be quite different from those between Radical Reformation churches and Catholics.  Their historic self-understandings are profoundly different.  The anabaptist tradition does not view itself so much as a reform movement within the Roman Catholic church as a return to Christ’s call to discipleship which had been lost in the Catholic church and not fully restored in the protestant churches (How severe this “loss” of the way of Jesus was in the Catholic church is, of course answered variously by different exponents of the Radical Reformation tradition).

As I’ve gone about wrestling with the question of Catholicism and Protestantism, I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that being part of the classic Reformed, Lutheran, or Anglican traditions would not make much sense to me. There are certainly good reasons for Christians in those traditions not to convert to Catholicism, but I’m not sure that if I were in any of those traditions that I would find them persuasive on their own.  However, as a Christian standing in the tradition of the Radical Reformation, the questions are quite different.  The question is not so much, “Have the proper reforms taken place yet?” as “What is the church Jesus founded supposed to look like?”  On that point I think that in some ways the anabaptist vision is the only consistent and permanent alternative to Catholicism.  And from here on out my posts on ecclesiology and ecumenism will work harder at looking at that particular question.

Christocentricism and Catholicism

One of the on-going thoughts that I have had in my engagement with Roman Catholic theology has been the issue of Christocentricism, or the lack thereof in much Roman Catholic theology.  Now, certainly there are some great exceptions to this, such as the magnificent work of Hans Urs von Balthasar, and those who follow him (though, of course Balthasar has Barth to thank for his particularly Christocentric focus, at least in my view).  In fact, at this very moment I’m reading and reviewing an excellent book by Fr. Robert Barron, entitled The Priority of Christ: Towards a Postliberal Catholicism.   Barron’s work is an incredible piece of theology, exegesis, and radically Christian epistemology. 

However, my wondering continues to be whether or not there is a fairly significant tension between allegiance to solus Christus and a commitment to the totus Christus.  In my engagement with Roman Catholic theology, the Christ I encounter is mediated by all manner of persons, institutions, events, and practices.  This is not to say that Christ is not central in Roman Catholic theology, he most certainly is; the key however lies in how Christ is encountered and present according to that tradition.  Moreover, there remains the question of whether or not there obtain other modes of mediation between God and humanity in Roman Catholic theology.  The vocabulary of Mary as Co-Redemptrix, though it is not not an official dogma, is clearly an acceptable theological articulation of the role of Mary in our redemption according to a great many Catholic theologians, including the late Pope John Paul II. 

The point I wish to make about this is simply that such language seems to imply that Christ is not our redeemer in an absolutely singular sense.  While there are doubtless a great many qualifications that could helpfully be made by those more competent in Catholic theology there is a fairly clear trajectory within that tradition which sees there being a great many other modalities of mediation alongside of and in relation to Christ which belong to the essence of Christian salvation.  As such it seems that there is a paucity of Christocentrism within the Catholic tradition.  What is at the “center” in much Catholic theology is not simply Christ, but rather “the whole” of which Christ is the apex, the source, and the summit, but with which he himself is not identical. 

Moreover, another crucial emphasis in Roman Catholic ecclesiology is the way in which salvific encounter with Christ is eccleiastically mediated, both through the sacraments and hierarchy of the church.  Again, it is the totus Christus which is soteriologically relelvent in Catholic theology.  It is extremely difficult to find within Catholic theology an emphasis on the Christ that stands over against the church in addition to being identified with her.  This is what I refer to in inquiring about the ability of Catholicism to be inherently Christocentric.  It seems that consistently – though perhaps not inevitably – the Catholic “whole” threatens to absorb the Christological singularity and unsurpassability. 

This bears on the issue of protestants converting to Roman Catholicism, and to my own specific attractions to that tradition.  Consistently, people who I speak to who have converted to Roman Catholicism have done so for reasons relating to “the whole”.  There is a wholeness and richness to the Catholic tradition in all its historical continuity and visible structure.  For me personally, and for those I know it is the seeking of this ecclesial wholeness, with its sense of history, certainty, and belonging that draws most people from protestantism to Catholicism.  And these are all, in my view legitimate reasons for such a conversion (though I don’t know if they are sufficient); however, the question I have goes to whether or not there is a specifically Christocentric reason to convert to Catholicism. 

My point in all this is not to judge the motives or reasons why people find themselves coming to the Catholic church, rather it is simply to say that any reasons I can come up with for converting are not really Christological ones.  They stem more from a desire to find a church that has all the right things than from a desire to simply follow the Jew from Nazareth.  Perhaps that’s just me, but in most conversion-to-Catholicism stories I encounter, I rarely hear “My encounter with Christ drove me to the Catholic church”; rather I tend to hear “I longed more than anything to find the true church.”  In contrast, for the many Catholics who convert to some form of evangelical Christianity, the reasoning is almost exclusively Christocentric.  To put the matter in a far too simplistic, but still I think somewhat accurate way, people seem to leave protestantism to find the true church while people seem to leave Catholicism to find Christ.  If nothing else, this should be quite disturbing to both protestants and Catholics.  For myself, it is perhaps the biggest reason why I cannot really entertain the idea of converting to Catholicism.  I just can’t find a Christocentric reason to do it.

The “Great Tradition” of the Church

In his book, Visible Church – Visible Unity, Ola Tjørhom offers the following ten theses on the nature of the “Great Tradition” of the church:

  1. “The Great Tradition of the Church is grounded in the apostolic witness to Christ as ultimately revealed in Holy Scripture and living on in the church’s anamnesis”.
  2. “The Great Tradition of the Church is defined and shaped by the ecumenical creeds of the ancient and undivided church, mainly the Nicenum, but also the Apostolicum and the Athanasium, which express the fundamental trinitarian and christological witness of the ancient church as a whole.”
  3. “The Great Tradition of the Church is fundamentally catholic in the sense that it aims at incorporating the faith of the church in all its richness across time as well as space.”
  4. “The Great Tradition of the Church is sacramentally, ecclesiologically, and liturgically based, which means that it insists that participation in the fruits of Christ’s sacrifice takes place through word and sacrament in the space of the church.”
  5. “The Great Tradition of the Church realizes that the people of God are a structured people in the sense that pastoral leaders and shepherds as well as laity are included.”
  6. “The Great Tradition of the Church is based on the firm conviction that the Church, in accordance with its nature, is one, and it acknowledges a fundamental ecumenical obligation.”
  7. “The Great Tradition of the Church holds God’s will to be binding and obligatory for human life in its totality.”
  8. “The Great Tradition of the Church places significant weight on the Church’s sending, mission, and service in the world…as sacramentum mundi, a sacrament or sacramental sign in and for the world.”
  9. “The Great Tradition of the Church realizes that the dialectic between creation and redemption provides the framework of the Church’s mission.”
  10. “The Great Tradition of the Church should never be perceived as a purely nostalgic project.”  (pp. 27-29)

I find these points to be generally accurate and helpful in synthesizing something of a hermeneutical core within the fullness of the Christian Tradition.  However, I wonder how we come to appropriate these traits in protestant church life.  Is the Great Tradition just “there” to be appropriated by our own volition, or must we be a part of historically contiguous social body in which this Tradition has been preserved?  What would it mean for protestants to embody the Great Tradition in a substantial way?

Index of Posts on Eccleisology and Ecumenism

Over the past few months I have written a large number of posts on issues of ecclesiology and ecumenism, particularly Catholic-Protestant relations.  Here they all are, in chronological order for those who are interested:

I have a few more posts on these topics in the works, and I’m sure these questions will continue to be prominent in future posts.  So far the experience of really delving into the issues of Protestant-Catholic division have been very challenging, rewarding, and formative for me.  I am very thankful to all the people, particularly Fred, Hill Harman, Ben George, David, Bobby, and Travis who participated in a lot of these discussions.  I look forward to more.

Some Theses for Ecumenically-Minded Protestants

1.  The breakdown of denominational identity is a terrible ecumenical occurrence and further inhibits the visible unity of the church.  For all their flaws, denominations offer structural and institutional forms which can facilitate ecumenical dialogues.  As to date there is no other protestant proposal that could fulfill this function better.  The multiplication of non-denominational evangelical churches only furthers the fracture of the protestant churches and is parasitic on the church’s call to unity and mission.

2.  Protestants came from the Roman Catholic church.  As such their primary ecumenical responsibility is to the Roman church.  Aside from very specific issues of theological conviction and conscience, protestant Christians have no business converting to Eastern Orthodoxy in order to be rejoined to the historical apostolic churches.  We are part of a very specific division in the body of Christ and we must be faithful to address that division.  Bypassing the necessary struggle with Rome by fleeing to Constantinople does not further the cause of Christian unity.  The same could be said of the recent evangelical trend toward Anglicanism.

3.  Protestant churches and Christians who remain separated from Rome must have a clear theological articulation why they must persist in their separation for the sake of the gospel.  For all protestants we must have specific theological conditions in mind which, if met would mean that we must return to the Roman Catholic church.  Given the diversity of protestantism, there is no reason to assume that these reasons would be uniform, but regardless, it is incumbent on all protestants to be able to give an honest articulation about why faithfulness to the gospel requires their ongoing separation from Rome.

4.  Protestants who believe that there are no conditions under which they could be reunited with the Roman Catholic church have become schismatics and should be treated as such.  Schism is sin and protestants must be ever-vigilant against it.

5.  That Catholicism continues to deny that protestant churches are truly churches denies the manifest work of the Spirit of Christ and falsely locates the criterion of the church’s ecclesiality in its institutional structure rather than in the grace of God in Christ.  It is prima facie false and ecumenically tragic to admit that the Holy Spirit is present in protestant communities which are vehicles of “sanctification and truth” (Lumen Gentium, 8) and yet deny that such communities are churches.  As Irenaeus said “where the Spirit of God is, there is the Church, and every kind of grace”. (Adversus Haereses, 3.24).  Protestants must work with all rigor and effort to manifest in the lives of their congregations the presence of the Spirit in his ecclesially-constitutive activity even as Rome continues to deny their proper ecclesial status.  We must live in hope that the tree will be known by its fruits.

6.  Protestants must continue to immerse themselves in the Great Tradition of the church and the fullness of its history.  For the Reformers, the Reformation was an exercise in ressourcement, a return to the patristic and biblical roots of the Christian faith for the sake of faithfulness to the gospel.  The ahistoricism of protestants today is unfaithful to the essentially patristic and indeed, catholic intentions of the Reformers.  To that end, the protestant church must continually read afresh the patristic witnesses to the faith, not only to help illumine and enrich current church practices and theology, but to aid in discerning ecumenical and ecclesiological reasons for persisting in separation from Rome and what criteria should be held for a full reunion.

7.  Similarly, protestants must re-engage the writings of the Reformers themselves in a new and fresh way.  Most protestants today are woefully ignorant of Luther’s works, Calvin’s Institutes, and the writings of other key figures in the Reformation.  The biblical and patristic vision of these vital theological treatises and texts are essential for protestants today to retain their reformational identity and the essential sense of historical and ecclesial continuity with the church catholic. 

Engaging with Barth: Contemporary Evangelical Critiques

For all of the evangelical antagonism toward the theology of Karl Barth there has been precious little actual engagement of Barth’s thought by cricial evangelical thinkers.  If you don’t believe me, just try reading Cornelius Van Till’s horrible Christianity and Barthianism. 

However, this new volume looks like a fascinating collection of well-constructed essays that seek to take Barth to task.  This is something we can definitely look forward to in January. 

Here are the contents of the book:

Foreword
Carl R. Trueman

Introduction
David Gibson & Daniel Strange

1. Karl Barth’s Christocentric Method
Henri Blocher

2. Does it matter if Christian Doctrine is Contradictory? Barth on Logic and Theology
Sebastian Rehnman

3. Karl Barth as Historical Theologian: The Recovery of Reformed Theology in Barth’s Early Dogmatics
Ryan Glomsrud

4. Karl Barth and Covenant Theology
A. T. B. McGowan

5. The Day of God’s Mercy: Romans 9-11 in Barth’s Doctrine of Election
David Gibson

6. Witness to the Word: On Barth’s Doctrine of Scripture
Mark D. Thompson

7. A Private Love? Karl Barth and the Triune God
Michael J. Ovey

8. Karl Barth and the Doctrine of the Atonement
Garry J. Williams

9. Karl Barth and the Visibility of God
Paul Helm

10. Karl Barth and Jonathan Edwards on Reprobation (and Hell)
Oliver D. Crisp

11. ‘Church’ Dogmatics: Karl Barth as Ecclesial Theologian
Donald Macleod

12. A Stony Jar: The Legacy of Karl Barth for Evangelical Theology
Michael S. Horton

Protestantism as Exile or Emigration?

There are basically two main ways of thinking about the nature of the protestant Reformation vis a vis the Roman Catholic church.  One view sees the Reformation as an (hopefully temporary) exile.  Under the conditions of exile the church is divided because of its sinfulness and its failure to live faithfully to the gospel.  Those that are separated from the Roman Catholic church are separated for the sake of the witness to the gospel, a witness that is muted by the aberrant practices of Roman church.  The hope of protestants with such a self-understanding is that in time the church from whence they came would, though the work of the Holy Spirit, return to the aspects of the gospel that have been distorted in the course of the church’s history.  At such a time, it would be incumbant upon all heirs of the Reformation that the church would again become visibly unified.  On this view all protestants which view themselves as exiles should hope, long, and work for this end.

However, the more common self-understanding of protestants is that of the Reformation as an emigration.  Rather than an exile brought about through tragic necessity within the church, for protestants who view themselves as emigrants, the Reformation is the event whereby Christians began anew, seceding from the inextricably corrupt and apostate Roman church for the sake of, in effect, restarting the church of Jesus Christ in a new and faithful form.  This self-understanding does not require protestants to view themselves as having an on-going or deeply-implicating relationship with the Roman church, given that it is simply viewed as apostate and, within these new, emigrated churches, the gospel is being extended in continuity with the mission of God.  Such churches have no reason to look back to Rome, but instead must look into the church’s missionary and eschatological future in all the variegated ecclesial diversity that protestantism has come to embody.

These two modes of self-understanding generate a very different form of protestant ecumenical theology, practice and ecclesiology.  I am curious, what might folks think about which of these self-understandings should dominate the shape of protestantism?  Are we exiles or emigrants?  Or is there some other alternative?

A Christological Theology of the Psalms

In reading through the Psalms yesterday, I was struck by what it might mean to read them Christologically as Dietrich Bonhoeffer recommends in his books Psalms: The Prayerbook of the Bible and Life Together.  His proposal, simply stated is that it ultimately Christ himself who prays the psalms.  This is, in part a brilliant way of reading the imprecatory psalms with it’s shockingly violent imagery: ”Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!” (Ps. 137:8)

For Bonhoeffer, it is Christ himself and Christ alone who is able to pray this prayer for God’s judgment, and in so praying it he causes it to fall, not on those deserving wrath, but on himself.  Thus, we cannot pray such prayers, rather we can listen to Christ pray them and make them his own, bringing about the curses on his own head for us and in our place.

However, such a way of reading the pslams is not just a handy way to deal with rough texts.  It also helps to make sense of a great many of the psalms of David.  Beginning always with the epitaph לְדָוִד ( “to David” or “in reference to David”), a great many of these psalms make little sense if we simply try to situate them within the historical life of David as narrated in Samuel and Kings.  One could, of course cite radical poetic hyperbole as the reason for the language of these psalms: “O LORD, you brought up my soul from Sheol, restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit” (Ps. 30:3).  And, I certainly don’t dispute that the Psalms could be read on that level.  However, in reading through them it seems that the text of the psalms invites a theological reading that extends far beyond simply the emotional and historical situations of the life of David.

First of all throughout the first book of the Psalms (1-42), which are all ascribed to David (except for the first two Psalms, which I would argue serve as an introduction to the book as a whole and which should in fact be read as a unity rather than two separate songs) there are references to Israel’s exile and a longing for redemption (see e.g. Ps. 14:7; 25:22).  Moreover, the superscriptions of many of the psalms speak to these psams being composed for occasions that could not have historical reference to David (“for the memorial offering”: Ps. 38 or, more definitively, “A Song at the dedication of the temple”: Ps. 30).

My point in all of this is that the psalms seem to invite a level of theological interpretation that goes beyond simply the historical.  The weaving together of rich poetic language of suffering and vindication, descent and ascent, desolation and consolation seems to point beyond the historical origins of the individual psalms towards a broader situatedness within the history of Israel in exile, and more importantly, within the all-encompassing history of Jesus.  Read canonically, I think the the bulk of the psalms just make more sense if we read them as coming from the mouth Jesus himself.  The dialectic of death and resurrection, desolation and joy, abandonment and praise seems to long for a Christological interpretation.

Consider for example, Psalm 30:

I will extol you, O LORD, for you have drawn me up
  and have not let my foes rejoice over me.
O LORD my God, I cried to you for help,
  and you have healed me.
O LORD, you have brought up my soul from Sheol;
  you restored me to life from among those who go down to the pit.

Sing praises to the LORD, O you his saints,
  and give thanks to his holy name.
 For his anger is but for a moment,
  and his favor is for a lifetime.
 Weeping may tarry for the night,
  but joy comes with the morning.

As for me, I said in my prosperity,
  “I shall never be moved.”
By your favor, O LORD,
  you made my mountain stand strong;
you hid your face;
  I was dismayed.

To you, O LORD, I cry,
  and to the Lord I plead for mercy:
“What profit is there in my death,
  if I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise you?
  Will it tell of your faithfulness?
Hear, O LORD, and be merciful to me!
  O LORD, be my helper!”

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
  you have loosed my sackcloth
  and clothed me with gladness,
that my glory may sing your praise and not be silent.
  O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever!

In a psalm such as this I cannot help but hear the voice of Jesus of Nazareth at prayer with the one he called Father.  Here we here the voice of the one who “offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the One who was able to save him from death” who “although he was a Son, learned obedience through what he suffered” (Heb. 5:7, 8).  One is hard pressed to find a more appropriate poetic articulation of the agonies of Gethsemane and the ecstasy of Galilee.

The psalms string together, in a beautiful symphony the longing of Israel for redemption in exile, the Davidic memory and covenant, the cries of the faithful for vindication, and the firm resolve to praise the God of Israel.  All of these themes coalesce and cohere in Christ, and truly I think, nowhere else.  So, after reading the psalms through again, I find my self more convinced than ever that the best way to read them is through a historically and eschatologically oriented Christology.  Or, to put it another way, the pslams can fruitfully be read as a sort of inter-trinitarian dialogue between Jesus and his Father.  And it is within that trinitarian conversation, through the rhythms of descent and ascent, death and resurrection that Israel and the Church are found and redeemed.  What this might for the reading of the psalms as a whole is an interesting, and I think, exciting prospect. 

God’s Politics: A Review

Here is a review I wrote a couple of years back on evangelical social activist, Jim Wallis’ high-selling book God’s Politics.  This review is a slightly expanded version of one that appeared in Cultural Encounters. 

In the midst of the seemingly endless critique and debate surrounding American politics and society, somehow a book calling for “a new vision for faith and politics in America” (p. xv) by an evangelical Christian has managed to land itself on the New York Times bestseller list and thrust Jim Wallis, long time Christian social activist and editor of Sojourners magazine into the national spotlight. That a book of this kind could have generated such attention surely merits much discussion and analysis for Christians concerned with the intersection between theology, culture and the church.

Wallis is no newcomer to such discussions. His work with both the Sojourners Community in Washington DC and the imminently more successful and well-known magazine that bears that name have established Wallis’ status among Christians with an intentional and serious interest in political and social affairs in America. If God’s Politics represents anything it is the culmination of Wallis’ thought as a social critic and is likely to take a significant role in shaping the thought of many Christians who are dissatisfied with the current political situation (or perhaps, debacle) in America today.

Wallis’ book is shaped in large part as a critique of the Religious Right and the co-opting of religious (and particularly Christian) language in contemporary political happenings. Wallis claims to be equally critical of how the claims of faith are dismissed by the political left on the one hand and co-opted in the service of American imperialism by the right. Wallis seeks instead to reclaim the role of faith in the public square without jumping on board with the left or the right. Repeatedly, he emphasizes that while church and state should indeed be separated, there should be no problem with people of faith bringing “religious values” to bear on public policy for the purpose of helping to fashion a more just society. This language of “values” is essential to Wallis’ perspective. He claims to welcome the contemporary debate about “moral values” believing that “the values debate should be the future of American politics” (p. xvii). Wallis even goes so far as to claim that “values will be the most important political question of the twenty-first century” (p. 26). Whatever the viability of this belief and the theological implications of the language of “values”, Wallis sees this discussion as an opportunity for “progressive” and “prophetic” religion (two of Wallis’ favorite terms).

The bulk of the book centers on the questions of war, poverty and selective moralism (here Wallis discusses abortion, capital punishment, racism, family and community). While Wallis makes a valiant attempt to be critical of the left and the right in his criticism of contemporary American politics and society, it is the right that takes the brunt of the attack throughout. Wallis scrutinizes the moral questions surrounding terrorism, the Iraq war, economic policy and race and class divisions. The vast percentage of his critiques zero in on the current Bush administration and its moral failings. Wallis sees in the reigning neoconservative regime an immoral war-making fueled by a dangerous theology of empire, a grossly unjust economy that privileges the rich and continues to exacerbate nation and global poverty and a thoroughly inconsistent stance on matters of sexual and personal morality.

There is certainly something to commend in Wallis’ critique (or at least, I’ll try to find something). The co-opting of biblical and particularly christological imagery by the current administration in the service of American ideology and ideal should indeed be disturbing to all Christians. Just as certainly, the moral ambiguities surrounding the Iraq war should trouble Christian advocates of just war doctrine and Christians pacifists. The state of race and class division in American society (to say nothing of its churches) is indeed lamentable and merits great sorrow and repentance.

However, I fear that Wallis neglects a number of crucial theological and ecclesial points that have bearing on the issues he seeks to address.  And for such reasons, the book ultimately ends up being theologically vaccuous in content and fancifully insipid in presentation.  Firstly, it is often unclear what audience Wallis is seeking to address. He is explicit that he is seeking to present a vision of faith and politics that should find approval across religious lines. Wallis’ use of the language of “values” and “progressive religion” seems to be striving to make the political outlook he champions acceptable to all people in America, regardless of their religious convictions (as if something as ridiculous as that were possible or desireable). Nevertheless, this is not consistent throughout the book. Wallis’ chapter on Bush’s “theology of empire” (pp. 137-158) for example, seems much more like an inner-ecclesial theological discussion. This seems symptomatic of the book’s style as a whole. Essentially it reads far more like a quilt clumsily stitched together than a finely woven tapestry. Some of the chapters are slightly edited versions of articles by Wallis that have appeared in Sojourners. Inserted into most of the chapters are all manner of declarations, confessions, open letters and memoranda which are often quite disjointed from the chapters of which they are a part. Wallis’ haphazard writing and rather nebulous target audience gives the book a lack of direction and specificity that a work of this nature should certainly manifest.

Secondly, for a book that purports to give us the politics of God himself (if nothing else, I guess Wallis has brass balls, at least when it comes to the selections of his book titles!), I was left disappointed by the utter lack of substantial theological discussion in the book itself. In critiquing American civil religion Wallis claims that “the answer to bad theology is not secularism; it is good theology” (p. 149). This is certainly right, but the bulk of God’s Politics is woefully and utterly evacuated of substantive theological content. Jesus appears in the book almost solely as a moral exemplar in continuity with the Hebrew prophets and what he takes to be their message about “our public commitments, our common life and the social bonds we share in community” (p. 28). The Trinitarian God makes no explicit appearance nor does Wallis seem too intent on discussing how or if the worship of the Triune God is necessary for harmonious political and social life. One wonders if this stems from Wallis’ desire for his proposal to obtain a wide reading from non-religious or non-Christian persons of similar political persuasions. Whatever the case, it seems that Wallis’ call for a “good theology” to answer the problem of co-opted religion will have to be answered from somewhere else entirely.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly as far as practical matters are concerned, it was quite unsettling how little the church figured into Wallis’ account of God’s politics. To be sure, Wallis holds that churches are central crucibles of social change. Indeed he even tips his hat at points to the fact that the Christian’s commitment to the church supersedes national loyalties. Nevertheless there is little indication in this book that Wallis views the existence of the church as a social and political reality in its own right to be at all integral to God’s politics. Wallis’ vision is thoroughly centered on transforming America and I fear that churches are integral to his understanding of God’s politics only insofar as they serve that vision for a just American society. This is a far cry from Wallis’ earlier work, where he argued passionately that

The church’s most serious shortcoming stems from its failure to be what the church as been called to be, from failing to structure its life and action as that new community created by the work of Christ and empowered by the Holy Spirit to be a new social reality, a living testimony to the presence of the kingdom of God in the world (Jim Wallis, Agenda For Biblical People [San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1984], 71).

This ecclesial lacuna and boringly modern instrumentalism in Wallis’ political vision may be what most handicaps the very social change he seeks to effect. For when Christian political reflection is cut loose from its ecclesial mores, all we have left to advocate are disembodied “moral values” such as the ones Wallis champions. We are then merely left to advocate and hope that others adopt such values. However, such discussions have a propensity to end up cut off from the concrete and are then easily co-opted in the service of sundry ideologies (as the religious right in America demonstrates remarkably well).

In contrast, Christian political reflection could be undertaken in a self-consciously ecclesial context, arising out of the proclamation of the Scriptures and the church’s determinative ecclesial practices as an alternative polis, the civitate dei. For it is in the concrete forms of the Spirit’s work through the Word, proclaimed and embodied in the local congregation, the communion established in the sacraments of baptism and eucharist, and manifested in ecclesial practices of hospitality, mercy and reconciliation that God’s politics begin to take shape. As Lesslie Newbigin states eloquently,

If the gospel is to challenge the public life of our society, if Christians are to occupy the “high ground” which they vacated in the noonday of “modernity,” it will not be by forming a Christian political party or by aggressive propaganda campaigns…It will only be by movements that begin with the local congregation in which the reality of the new creation is present, known and experienced, and from which men and women will go into every sector of public life to claim it for Christ, to unmask the illusions which have remained hidden and expose all areas of life to the illumination of the gospel. (Lesslie Newbigin, The Gospel in a Pluralist Society [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1989], 232-233)

If we are indeed to embrace God’s politics, we must attend first and foremost to the Spirit’s work of cultivating an alternative form of life that the church is called to embody in community. It is as the body of Christ, constituted by the Spirit, experiencing the realities of the kingdom in our midst that that we are called to bring God’s politics to bear on the world. This is what is sadly lacking in Wallis’ account of God’s politics. Such an approach ultimately seems to bypass the centrality of the church and her calling to worship and bear witness to the Triune God.  As such I have no doubt that Wallis’ vision and his book will ultimately find themselves consigned to the ever-growing ash heap of books that sought to wed God to an agenda other than his own.  But it is the church, the civitas peregrina which will continue on, and through which, by God’s grace, the prophetic reminder will always be present, the message always embodied, proclaiming that the libido dominandi will ultimately fade away into the nothingness that it is and all creation will find its being realized in the sacramental life of the church of the Triune God.

Top Books on the Resurrection

Ben recently posted his top 8 books on the resurrection of Jesus.  Here are mine:

  1. Rowan Williams, Resurrection
  2. Robert W. Jenson, The Triune Identity 
  3. Alan Lewis, Between Cross and Resurrection
  4. Hans Urs von Balthasar, Mysterium Paschale 
  5. N.T. Wright, The Resurrection of the Son of God
  6. David Bentley Hart, The Beauty of the Infinite
  7. Thorwald Lorenzen, Resurrection and Discipleship
  8. Walter Künneth, The Theology of the Resurrection

The Analogy of Kissing: Robert Jenson

“Our poem speaks of a love that occurs as sweet bodily kisses, and of desperate need for such love; and its allegory uses both as an image of the relation between the Lord and his people.  What does the possibility of this use tell us about the image itself?

“If bodily love can be an appointed image of union with God, then we may not suppose that love becomes purer or nobler by disembodiment.  If there is such a thing as love that needs no touching, it is not this love that in the Son mirrors the love between Israel’s God and his people.  Whatever may be true of the gods of the religions or the philosophers.

“During the recent sexual ‘revolution’ those among the mass fornicators who still felt that their practices needed justification sometimes said, ‘It’s only bodies, afterall’; and of course philandering men have long argued ‘It didn’t mean anything.’  Precisely such opinion is the most precise self-manifestation of the evil that currently infests us.  It is the very kissing or what it leads to – or in the other direction at various diminutions, the touch on the shoulder or the look in the eye or the voice-sound on the telephone – that is analogous to union with God.  This is even true negatively of faithless or corrupt touching, as Paul pointed out (1 Cor. 6:15-20).

“Nor in the Song’s ethics is neediness a bad thing.  If Israel can be said to need the Lord and if the Lord accepts such desire, the need for the other must be good.  Through the modern period, personal need has been taken as weakness, and woman’s supposed greater neediness – which indeed seems to appear in the Song – as a mark of their inferiority.  Late modernity even came to regard needing the other as actual vice; a few years before this writing, the happily married were told they should find some occasion of conflict, as antidote for their ‘codependence.’  The Song knows better: we were made for, and therefore need not only God but the created other, in whom the heart may find some rest also penultimately to union with God.”

 –Robert W. Jenson, Song of Songs, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville: WJK, 2005), 19.

Hütter on Ecclesial Practices

“The church must be understood as a nexus of core practices that at once both constitute and characterize the church. In the form of these core practices, the church subsists enhypostaticlly in the Holy Spirit and through them the Holy Spirit performs its economic mission, namely, the eschatological re-creation of humanity, a re-creation whose beginning is faith and whose growth is growth in faith, transforming human beings precisely in and through ongoing affliction by drawing them into God’s eschatological communion.”

–Reinhard Hütter, Suffering Divine Things: Theology as Church Practice (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1999), 133.

Radical Creedalism: Embodying Nicene Faith

In light of some of the recent discussions that have been happening lately, both on the issues of Christology and the logos asarkos and my other recent posts on ecclesiology and ecumenism, I have been driven back, again and again to the Nicene Creed.  Both of these discussions have led me to think afresh of what it might mean for us to think about theological issues in a pronounced and self-consciously creedal manner.  To that end, I am offering another, albeit briefer series of posts on the theology of the Nicene Creed.  What I am seeking is an exercise of “creative fidelity” in which, hopefully the pendulum will swing neither over-much toward uninhibited creativity nor towards a merely static fidelity.  The goal is, so to speak, a ‘non-identical repetition’ which will faithfully articulate a theology (or at least some theological themes) which takes the regulative role of the creed with the utmost seriousness, and which simultaneously reveals the subversive and revolutionary power of Creedal Christianity.

I plan to post one essay on each of the major headings of the Creed: God the Father, Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit, and the Church, and finally a concluding statement on creedal Christianity. 

§1. Credo in unum Deum: The Almighty Father

§2. Et in unum Dominum Iesum Christum: The One Jesus

§3. Et in Spiritum Sanctum: The Giver of Life

§4. Et unam, sanctam, catholicam et apostolicam Ecclesiam: The Church of the Triune God

 §5.  Credo: Christianity as Confession

Henri de Lubac on the End of Humankind

“God did not make us ‘to remain within the limits of nature’, or for the fulfilling of a solitary destiny; on the contrary, He made us to be brought together into the heart of the life of the Trinity. Christ offered himself in sacrifice so that we might be one in that unity of the divine Persons…The people united by the unity of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost: that is the church. She is ‘full of the Trinity.’”

–Henri de Lubac, The Splendor of the Church, (SanFrancisco: Ignatius Press, 1999), 238.

Michael Gorman: Reading Paul

For those of you interested in Pauline studies you should make sure to check the new book by Michael Gorman, Reading PaulIt is the latest addition to Cascade Books great series of Companions.  What Gorman has given us is a superb and conscise introduction to the Apostle Paul.  Gorman has already given us such great books on Paul as Apostle of the Crucified Lord (for my money, the best introduction to Paul’s theology and epistles) and Cruciformity.

 This latest book will doubtless be a great piece for introducing students and laypeople to Paul.   However, a brief perusal of the blurbs on the book will make clear that it packs a puch on its own for even the seasoned reader of Paul and Pauline studies. Here’s what Richard Hays has to say about the book:

This splendid introduction to the Apostle Paul is the best book of its kind: concise, wise, insightful, thoroughly conversant with the best recent scholarship yet thoroughly clear and readable. Against the numerous distorted preconceptions that occlude our reading of Paul, Gorman brilliantly sketches a picture of Paul’s gospel as a gracious, world-transforming message of peace and reconciliation. I will assign this as required reading for students in my introductory New Testament course and put it in the hands of as many pastors and laypeople as possible.

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