Category Archives: Book Notes

Powers and Practices §2: Philip Stolzfus

The second chapter of Powers and Practices is a far cry, in terms of quality, from the first, and hopefully all the following essays. It is entitled “Nonviolent Jesus, Nonviolent God?” and it attempts to critique Yoder for allegedly not going far enough in purging his “concept of God” of violent images, such as those contained in the Exodus narrative.

In the last few pages of the chapter the author makes clear what’s really at work in his critique of Yoder. Stolzfus is really just advocating for a certain sort of well-worn of Mennonite theology that parrots Gordon Kaufman and Sallie MacFauge  by simply discounting all elements of the Bible’s depiction of God that are deemed insufficiently nonviolent. For Stolzfus this means that, in contrast to Yoder who reneged on the task, we need to get down to the real business of “theological construction” (p. 40), that is by articulating a properly systematized and pristinely nonviolent conceptuality of God.

Stolzfus’s chapter amounts to little more than a fit of whining about the fact that Yoder didn’t do theology that way. It also makes clear how deeply Stolzfus really doesn’t understand the nature of Yoder’s project. Ironically, Stolzfus, in his rabbid concern to purge all “violent” conceptions of God from theology in advance, winds up advocating some mode of theological thinking that is, from the outset, totalizing and violent in itself. Stoltzfus has no patience for Yoder’s “dialogical stance” (p. 38)  because it fails to secure, in advance, the concept of God that Stolzfus, as a liberal Mennonite is willing to accept.

But this is precisely where Yoder is, in fact the true “pacifist” while Stolzfus by contrast is utterly, well, violent. He cannot take the risk of letting the reality of God come to him from somewhere other than his own predetermined image thereof. God must be only and always this. Therefore any thought along these lines is excluded. The sort of “nonviolence” that Stolzfus wants to hardwire in advance into our conception of God is hardly the peace of Jesus. It requires the presence of “violent” images of God, against which it must be counterposed to have any purchase. The “nonviolent” God that Stolzfus argues for is defined, agonistically, by what it is against. This “nonviolent” God requires violence and is systematically rendered within a binary (violent) mode of theological reflection that is at once simplistic and lackadaisical.

This is not to say that the images of divine violence in the Bible are not real problems. They are. But it is Stolzfus who fails to deal with the problem, not Yoder. Yoder, in keeping with his commitment to vulnerable engagement with the biblical witness, takes time and patience to actually struggle with the text, rather than deciding in advance what simply must be stripped away because of his own predetermined theological sensibilities.

I’m all for reading solid critiques of Yoder, but a lazy half-baked Marcionism like the kind offered here doesn’t impress me at all. I hope the next chapter is better than this.

Powers and Practices §1: Chris Huebner

One of my new aims this year is to blog more consistently about what I’m reading. One way I’m going to do that is by doing more chapter by chapter reviews/notes on books. I’m hoping to do one of these most weekdays. To kick it off, I’m starting with Powers and Practices: Engaging the Work of John Howard Yoder, edited by Jeremy M. Bergen and Anthony G. Siegrist (Thanks to Herald Press for the review copy). Hope it’s helpful.

This book is one of a couple recent projects that is not merely doing work on Yoder, but thinking with Yoder in conversation with multiple other — and highly diverse — thinkers and ideas. Powers and Practices is a welcome collection of essays contributing to important theological work that takes Yoder seriously — something I am very much on board with.

The first chapter in the book is by Chris Huebner, entitled “The Work of Inheritance: Reflections on Receiving John Howard Yoder.” This essay is a very helpful and readable introduction to Yoder’s mode of theological reflection, and specifically his understanding of “inheritance,” that is of faithfulness to “tradition” or “history.” Huebner notes that “Throughout his meandering engagements and conversations, we constantly find Yoder striving to articulate a posture with respect to history that does not reflect a possessive will to somehow manage and control it” (p. 20). According to Huebner:

[Yoder's] work is everywhere laced with notions of memory and hope, of historical discernment and openness to the surprises of the new. But these themes are not to be understood in a manner that suggests a simple or straightforward activity of repetition, of narrowly factual accuracy, or of what we might describe as archival sensibilities. Neither do they present a vision of hope that consists in the desire to realize some given end, as if the future somehow rests squarely on our shoulders. They reflect neither a primitivist or preservationist reification of the past, not a progressive construal of hope as a future goal to be achieved. Rather, we find in Yoder a vision of inheritance that is interruptive and radically transforms those who are in a position to receive it. Indeed, echoing Barth, he emphasizes that it is not so much we who remember, but rather that we are made a part of God’s memory, and in being so remembered have our very we-ness redefined. At the very least, the question of receiving an inheritance is, for Yoder, fare from straightforward. Inheritance names a kind of work, a life’s work of ongoing transformation in which the very identity of the one said to be doing the receiving is somehow part of whats at stake. (p. 21)

This is crucial to understanding what it means to appropriate tradition and history in the task of theology. For Yoder “inheriting a tradition is thus crucially not uni-directional. It does not consist in a linear gaze backward to the past, nor does it give rise to a clear and unambiguous path looking forward. Rather it involves a constant ‘looping back’ to the origins in light of unpredictable, often surprising encounters with other dialogue partners” (p. 23).

In conversation with Wittgenstein, Romand Coles, and Rowan Williams, Huebner hints at what this notion of “the work of inheritance” means both for theological approaches to tradition and history, and more specifically, for our own approach to the work of Yoder. What this involves then is not an attempt to systematize Yoder or get him “right.” Rather we ought to engage in the ongoing and open work of “looping back” to Yoder and inheriting his ad hoc and diasporic mode of theology in conversation with others. And as Huenber notes, this is a more fruitful and faithful way of engaging Yoder’s work, indeed the conversations into which we can bring Yoder often tend to be “more fruitful that some of Yoder’s own encounters with those same figures” (p. 25). This, importantly gives us a way to be both “for and against” Yoder as with think with him in vulnerable receptivity to other, often unexpected dialogue partners.

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