Newsweek ran a provocative article by Andrew Sullivan today, “Christianity in Crisis”. Because Sullivan addresses so many important issues in one place, it provides a helpful occasion to lay out what I see to be the problems with his overall vision of the Christian faith and its relation to politics, as well as my own preferred alternative.

Sullivan’s Argument:

Sullivan believes, like many do, that we have entered a time of religious crisis in our society. Roman Catholicism has (he says) discredited itself in its many child abuse scandals, and evangelicals have turned into a fearful bunch, trying to hide from the real world in ghettoes of imaginary construction and behind real threats of violence to the other. Further, both have become concerned with things that Jesus either did not mention (homosexuality and abortion), and have ignored things he was concerned with (the problem of divorce, celibacy in light of what he believed to be the immediate end of the world). Sullivan believes there is a rise in atheism and “spirituality”, and that this expresses an awareness in our society that our current situation characterized by emptiness, distraction, and warring is not good enough, and that we want some kind of fundamental spiritual change.   (more…)

Chris Huebner, in a thought provoking article, “Radical Ecumenism, or Receiving One Another in Kaula Lampur,” in The Ecumenical Review, vol 57 no. 4 (2005), writes about the pitfalls that ecumenism can fall into, and frankly, I can’t help but concur with him based on my own experience in dialogue with people across traditions.

And yet while ecumenical dialogue rightly serves to complicate our theological discourse, it walks a fine line in doing so. Even as it encourages an appreciation of the difficulty of Christian speech, there is a sense in which it risks giving rise to certain monothematic and tidy tendencies of its own. Indeed, it might be suggested that the promise of ecumenism is in a strange way bound up with precisely the sorts of problems Hauerwas, Williams, and Eagleton identify. When taken as a whole, ecumenical conversations often contain glimpses of the dialogical virtues noted above. But from a case-by-case perspective, looking at specific statements and contributions to the conversation, one often gets a sense of the corresponding vices. While the meetings in Kuala Lumpur contained many instances of genuine theological dialogue, I also find myself wondering about the temptation to deploy certain favourite words and functional, self-legitimating descriptions in representing our various traditions. Driven by a desire to make a meaningful contribution on behalf of one s tradition, to ensure that its distinctive voice makes it to the table, and perhaps equally a sense of obligation that this is the role we are expected to fill, there appears to be an all too seductive temptation to make caricatures of ourselves. From the other end, in an attempt to be as inclusive as possible, to say something that everyone can identify with, statements often read like a checklist of all the favoured categories Hauerwas points to. The unfortunate result in both cases is that we end up saying very little, if anything at all, that a reasonably informed dialogue partner might not already be able to anticipate. Needless to say, this does not make for much of a conversation. On the one hand, there is a deadening sense of being stuck in a repetitive cycle of introductory niceties that make it difficult to move on to the more interesting and important matters of nuanced detail. On the other hand, behind the surface posture of hospitality, one can often hear the shrill ring of single-issue, special-interest group political manoeuvring that runs counter to any meaningful conception of ecumenical unity. [375]

[This post's title comes from here.]

Among many other important points, Stephen J. Grabill, in his well-needed book, Rediscovering the Natural Law in Reformed Theological Ethics, makes clear Calvin’s support of the existence and knowability of natural law. One such text is from the Reformer’s commentary on that great Psalm ode to the law, Psalm 119:

[Psalm 119:]52.I called to mind thy judgments of old, O Jehovah! In this psalm, the judgments of God are generally taken for his statutes and decrees, that is, his righteousness. … In this place, in consequence of the qualifying phrase, of old, it is more probable that they refer to the examples by which God has made himself known as the righteous Judge of the world. Why does he say that the law of God has been from everlasting? This may to some extent be accounted for from the righteousness here mentioned not being of recent growth, but truly everlasting, because the written law is just an attestation of the law of nature, through means of which God recalls to our memory that which he has previously engraved on our hearts.  [Grabill, 73]

The last phrase, of course, alludes to Romans 2:15 as it has been commonly interpreted, as a reference to the knowledge of right and wrong that God has provided to all people.

This element of Calvin’s teaching is very relevant for the current church, at least in my opinion. It shows that one of the biggest sources of the Reformed tradition was in continuity with the natural law tradition, and that Karl Barth and the Barthians have radically departed from the Reformed tradition on this matter. It also, hopefully, will make it easier for many who have great love for the Reformer to begin to appreciate the expansive and foundational natural law tradition, with its careful analysis of the human person and all the variegated moral situations he can find himself in. Perhaps, through that, the Reformed church might once again be able to reclaim their part in that ongoing project, a project which has untold riches of wisdom on many important contemporary issues, if only we would look.

My friends Steven Wedgeworth and Peter Escalante have created a new web presence which I want to direct our readers to. I can’t really summarize the purpose of the site as well as Escalante himself has done here (do read it), except to say that it’s about fostering a kind of Calvinism that is learned and very much “in the real world”, intentionally avoiding escapist mentalities. In other words, it’s trying to bring back the old school.

Enjoy!

(As a post-script, I want to note that I discussed the concept that the title of their site expresses, some time ago.)

In honour of the day, I wanted to post an old essay I wrote about Saint Patrick’s confession, but I couldn’t find it. So, in lieu of that, here are some links relevant in some way to the day:

Patrick’s Confession — this is thought to be an authentic document written by Patrick. It is interesting how little has changed in terms of “church politics” since his day. I guess that just proves we’re all sinners after all. And his renowned trinitarianism shows through very clearly as well. There’s also a detectable typology throughout: he continually depicts himself as a new apostle Paul. An interesting read.

An assortment of legends about Saint Patrick — these are basically discounted by critical scholars. This is perhaps with good reason. I have not studied them closely. However, I would note that critical scholars often approach such stories with naturalistic assumptions. In recent days Craig Keener has published two massive volumes defending the historicity and reality of New Testament miracles, including providing many examples throughout history of testimony to miraculous events. Thus, as always, interested readers should keep their own critical faculties intact.

The biology behind getting drunk.

Shepherds we shall be… – just because.

Below are three paragraphs from an edited anthology on civilian immunity, Civilian Immunity in War. These particular comments are from Colm McKeogh in his chapter “Civilian Immunity: Augustine to Vattel” (80-82). Here he offers three problems with the use of double effect to justify attacks which are foreseen to have collateral damage. Now, I think that he goes too far when he implies that there could never be a situation that could be free from the problems he raises, but what his points do establish, I think, is that the bar for permitting actions of the type he is discussing is very high, much higher than modern armies are willing to concede.

First, the PDE requires that the good end sought be proportionate to the harm done. In an attack on a military target in which (it is known) civilians will be killed, what is the good end that is to be proportionate to the harm that is the killing of civilians? Is it the saving of combatant lives that would otherwise be lost if such an attack did not take place, or if alternative means were used to the same tactical end? It is not (and in any case, civilians ought not to be killed as a side-effect of an action to save one’s own combatants, for combatants may be treated as instruments, but civilians remain persons; it is not the case that two combatant lives saved outweigh one civilian life lost). Rather, the attack on the military target is only an intermediary step, a means to the end of victory in the war. Its worth cannot be assessed without reference to the ad bellum end for which the war is waged by that party to the conflict. Yet, if the focus is switched from the tactical to the strategic level, then the end for which civilians are killed collaterally is not so clearly good or right; indeed, one party to the conflict firmly believes that end to be wrong or bad (in other cases to which the PDE is applied, the good end is clear: in the performance of a craniotomy, it is the saving of a woman’s life; so too when a bystander pulls a lever to divert a run-away trolley on to a track where it will kill only one person rather than five: five lives are saved and only one lost). (more…)

Scot McKnight has an interesting post up today on what an Anabaptist is. He takes his definition from Harold Bender, who along with other figures like Ebehard Arnold, sparked what we might call today the truly neo-Anabaptist movement. I want to quickly discuss the three main aspects of the Anabaptist vision, to show what I think are some problems with using these as distinctive marks of Anabaptist churches.

Bender is famous for three features of the Anabaptist Vision:

1. The essence of Christianity, or the Christian life, is discipleship — a committed following of Christ in all areas of life. The word on the street in the 16th Century, and this word repeated often enough by bitter enemies of the Anabaptists, was that they were consistent and devout Christians. If Luther’s word was “faith,” the word for the Anabaptists was “follow.” The inner conversion was to lead to external transformation.

2. A new conception of the church as a brotherhood of fellowship. The ruling image of a church among the Catholics and Reformers was more national and institutional and sacramental, while the ruling image for the Anabaptists was fellowship or family. Joining was voluntary; the requirement was conversion; the commitment was to holy living and fellowship with one another. Thus, the Anabaptist separated from the “world” to form a society of the faithful. This view of the church led to economic availability and liability for one another.

3. A new ethic of love and peaceful nonresistance. Apart from rare exceptions like Balthasar Hubmaier and the nutcases around Thomas Müntzer, the Anabaptists lived a life shaped by love and nonviolence. They refused to coerce anyone.

Thus, for Bender, the focus was on discipleship not sacraments or the inner enjoyment of justification. The church was not an institution or a place for Word-proclamation in emphasis but instead a brotherhood of love. In addition, against Catholics and Calvinists who believed in social reform, like the Lutherans the Anabaptists were less optimistic about social transformation. But, unlike the Lutherans who split life into the secular and sacred, the Anabaptists wanted a radical commitment that meant the creation of an alternative Christian society.

I’d like to juxtapose these summaries with some excerpts from Calvin’s commentaries, to suggest that, perhaps, these are not really distinctly Anabaptist sentiments. (more…)

In Christian circles, one could be forgiven for thinking, being an individual has fallen on hard times. Or at least, anything that might be stuck with the label “individualism” is seen as axiomatically negative.

For me, this is somewhat troubling. I am an introvert, and so appreciate times of solitude to be able to work through personal and theological issues, and just exist in God’s presence. Of course, I am also a social animal, and so need time with others. But I don’t think I would be lying if I said a substantial amount of my personality has been forged in decisions I have made alone, at a desk, reading a book. I don’t deny the massive influences that parents and friends (and other media) have had on me, and truthfully, reading books is just another way of communicating with people. But, nevertheless, I don’t think I would be wrong to say that much of my character has been formed in moments of solitude, either in prayer or in study.

There are many complaints that could be made about our present socio-cultural order, and perhaps it is true that it is afflicted by a negative kind of individualism. Certainly there is something of an epidemic of loneliness. And no doubt that has something to do with our political and economic order, which prizes what people are in themselves, what they can contribute as skilled individuals to the marketplace of trade, and not what their hereditary connections are, or who they spend their leisure time with. Nevertheless, I have a hard time thinking that this economic and political order, itself, is a negative thing. I am obviously laying my political cards on the table here, but that is where I stand at the moment.

It seems to me what our society (and the church, which is not really something totally separate from society) needs is not anti-individualism, but an individualism coram deo. What it needs are spiritual practices that allow people to strip away all their secondary layers before their Creator, and truly wrestle, in the light of the Word, with their weakness, their doubts, and their sins, and then through that struggle, bring something of value back to the world. What our culture does not need is more “community”, where community is a way to hide from our selves in the pleasantries of potlucks, board games, and church programs, or for those not Christian, in clubs, bars, and the types of activities that go on there.

These are not formalized or well-refined thoughts, and I offer them in the spirit of a suggestion, not a proclamation per se. I would be curious to hear what others think here.

Steven Wedgeworth and Peter Escalante have an excellent essay placing the Reformed tradition’s teaching on Christology in the context of historical and contemporary debates, and along the way make some (in my opinion) insightful comments about the larger cultural forces at work in the contemporary issues especially. For example:

William Bartley, in his Retreat to Commitment, acutely analyzed the retreat from objective truth claims by mainstream Protestant theologians in the twentieth century, and their replacement by metaphorical “meaningfulness” and sincere “commitment.”¹⁴ This wasn’t simply an openly “liberal” move; a number of well-intentioned neo-orthodox went down this road too. By accepting a Kantian division between the objective, the world said to be only really knowable by scientism, and the subjective, the world of unverifiable values, these theologians would come to speak by preference of the “narrative” of the “faith community,” rather than the objective history of the acts of God and His elect people, and objective order of creation. This move makes the data of revelation “meaningful” (as opposed to objectively true)¹⁵ symbols of the faith community’s experience of the world. Modern academic theology mostly presumes this; hence, the constant attempts to make classical doctrine “relevant” or “meaningful” in every way other than the fundamental way in which it really is relevant. Notable examples are “social Trinitarianism” and certain modern neo-Patristic Christologies,¹⁶ which are used, in the place of reason, to symbolically solve social problems or epistemological anxieties, matters which properly belong to politics and philosophy, but which the new theologians think can only be resolved through new speculative syntheses.

Some Reformed theologians have even been a little swept up in this, dismissing the sacred rationality of their predecessors as “Enlightenment rationalism,” a move which is really Bulverism on the one hand, and old-fashioned (and postmodern!) irrationalism on the other, and using undefined terms from the new Christologies in equivocal or mystifying ways, which are privileged by an appeal to mystery or their supposed transcendence of logic and rhetoric when challenged, but then do in fact get used to mean and do some very unmysterious and specific things. And too often, we find in these supposed correctives no close engagement with the classic Reformed tradition, the tradition purportedly in need of being urgently“reformed” in the direction of neo-patristic systems.

They also place the modern in the context of ancient debates:

16. One wonders whether the liberal beginnings of some of the neo-patristic Lutheran theologians haven’t played a role in inclining them toward a metaphysical rather than Biblical-historical Christology, and toward the allegorizing exegesis of the Alexandrians, as opposed to the more rigorous Antiochene tradition, which reaches full flower in the historical-grammatical method of the Reformers. Much of this theologizing is an antiquarian and theosophically inclined imaginary supplement to scientism, justifying itself over against scientism as legitimate subjectivity- irreducible meaning, faith-knowledge looking to trump science because, as is certainly true, natural science isn’t enough. But the problem is in accepting the postmodernist retreat from objectivity, and from history, in the first place. The neo-patristic Christologies are not really historically patristic; the “neo” really makes a difference. What they do have in common with certain Alexandrian-minded ancients is the aversion to history; but they do not actually share the thought-world of those people, since the goal of the moderns is to get human life back. They are inevitably Antiochene, so to speak, in that way; the lost object they’re after is creation. But since they have surrendered it to scientism, all they can get back is the “discarded image,” but without the ancient supposition that the image corresponds to an order of things, and thus, the “discarded image” is retrieved unnaturally detached from an order of things (which perhaps accounts for the appeal of “theological aesthetics,” a la von Balthasar). And metaphysical Christology, and its corollary versions of ecclesiology, are put to work in the service of that project, as the palette of tropes with which the picture will be painted. Nonfalsifiable, as data of “faith”, they thus make for a privileged imaginal supplement to the world of scientism and modernity, a supplement which does not challenge scientism nor redefines modernity. Nonfalfisiable and hypermeaningful- “infallible but not inerrant,” one might even say. In any case, the flight from history is the retreat to commitment, to subjectivism.

In a previous post, I excerpted an author who suggested a reason for the rise of pulp superheroes in the era of the depression. Grant Morrison, in his recent non-fiction work Supergods: What Masked Vigilantes, Miraculous Mutants, and a Sun god from Smallville Can Teach Us about Being Human, provides a similar narrative for the more recent rise in popularity of larger than life heroes:

Batman, Spider-Man, X-Men, Green Lantern, Iron Man. Why have superheroes become so popular? Why now?

On one level, it’s simple: Someone, somewhere figured out that, like chimpanzees, superheroes make everything more entertaining. Boring tea party? Add a few chimps and it’s unforgettable comedy mayhem. Conventional murder mystery? Add superheroes and a startling and provocative new genre springs to live. Urban crime thriller? Seen it all before… until Batman gets involved. Superheroes can spice up any dish.

But there’s even more going on beneath the surface of our appetite for the antics of outlandishly dressed characters who will never let us down. Look away from the page or the screen and you’d be forgiven for thinking they’ve arrived into mass consciousness, as they tend to arrive everywhere else, in response to a desperate SOS from a world in crisis.

We’ve come to accept that most of our politicians will be exposed, in the end, as sex-mad liars or imbeciles, just as we’ve come to expect gorgeous supermodels to be bulimic, neurotic wretches. We’ve seen through the illusions that once sustained our fantasies and know from bitter experience that beloved comedians will stand unmasked, sooner o later, as alcoholic perverts or suicidal depressives. We tell our children they’re trapped like rats on a doomed, bankrupt, gangster-haunted planet with dwindling resources, with nothing to look forward to but rising sea levels and imminent mass extinctions, then raise a disapproving eyebrow when, in response, they dress in black, cut themselves with razors, starve themselves, gorge themselves, or kill one another.

Traumatized by war footage and disaster clips, spied upon by ubiquitous surveillance cams, threatened by exotic villains who plot from their caverns and subterranean lairs, preyed upon by dark and monumental Gods of Fear, we are being sucked inexorably into Comic Book Reality, with only moments to save the world, as usual. Towering, cadaverous Death-Angels, like the ones on the covers of Dad’s antinuke rags, seem to overshadow the gleaming spires of our collective imagination.

Could it be that a culture starved of optimistic images of its own future has turned to the primary source in search of utopian role models? Could the superhero in his cape and skintight suit be the best current representation of something we all might become, if we allow ourselves to feel worthy of a tomorrow where our best qualities are strong enough to overcome the destructive impulses that seek to undo the human psyche? [xvi-xvii]

I disagree profoundly with Morrison on the source of hope, but it’s hard not to see the rise in popularity for superheroes as linked to a need for it. And perhaps, too, one could see the cause of this popularity rooted even more deeply in human nature. Perhaps it is not just our current political climate, but that as an expression of our more fundamental human condition: when we are at our most honest, we human beings admit we are broken and weak, and we are looking for a saviour.