I feel like one of the things that I often come across is evidence that previous epochs were often not as great as we sometimes think them to be. I feel like I could start cobbling together such posts under a title like the one above. Anyway, cast your mind back to the 1500s, ah, the era into which Shakespeare was born, what a civilized time! Here’s a sample from etiquette books of the 16th Century, as recounted by Charles Taylor:

“Early books of etiquette admonish people not to blow their nose on the table cloth. A book of 1558 tells us that it is ‘not a very fine habit’, when one comes across excrement in the street to point it out to another, and hold it up for him to smell. People are told not to defecate in public places. Clearly we are in an age whose standards in this regard are far removed from our own.”

They didn’t really show that in Shakespeare in Love or Elizabeth, did they?

A thought:

Is the real issue between Roman Catholicism and Protestantism not an absolute sola fide (since at least some Reformed thinkers affirmed a final judgment of some kind according to works) or an imputation of Christ’s active obedience (since many Protestants, even Calvinists, did not and do not affirm such a doctrine), but rather that justification is (a) forensic rather than dynamic, (b) by grace (i.e., incorporating forgiveness) rather than according to strict merit, and (c) can be known as a present status that will carry on into eternity (though not necessarily with infallible certainty, since most Protestants have historically not affirmed that is possible)?

I can’t see why any of the concerns that “TR’s” have (or, Martin Luther might have had) with a presentation of justification like the “FV” or NT Wright give would not be met if they affirmed those three conditions, which both of the latter parties do. And I think it is taken for granted by the vast majority of Paul scholars that on those counts, Luther was right in his reading of Paul. So what is all the fuss about?

Recently we discussed the possibility of a secular state, and I suggested at the possible limitations of the practicality of a “secular” state. I’d like to expand a bit more positively on the topic with this post.

I’ve gone back and forth on the issue of pacifism on this blog, and currently I’m not a pacifist (though I see that a lot of criticisms some pacifists, like Hauerwas and Cavanaugh, make of the modern political system are very valid). For Christians who agree with me, there is no excuse for avoiding deep reflection on the interface of our religion and our politics, since our religion does not allow us to consider politics, even violent politics, completely out of bounds.

Granted these two points (i.e., secularism is impractical, Christianity does not prohibit involvement in the judgments of the state), the spectre of theocracy is not in principle avoidable. I think all Christians nowadays would recognize there have been severe abuses of state power in the name of Christian religion, and thus would not agree that just any arrangement of religion and state would be a good idea. What would be most helpful is guidance from God about politics.

At this point, for those of a traditional evangelical, Catholic or Orthodox strain, appeal will probably eventually be made to the Old Testament as a possible basis for political ethics (this has been done frequently in the history of the Church; one excellent volume summarizing the history of Christian political thought is From Irenaeus to Grotius: A Sourcebook in Christian Political Thought by Oliver and Joan Lockwood O’Donovan, which summarizes the history from the beginning of the post-apostolic church up until the beginning of the modern era (with Hugo Grotius)). In recent theology, this has been attempted by different groups and theologians: Reconstructionism (and other Reformed thinkers, including significantly the Kuyperian tradition), the Moral Majority, liberation theology, Christopher Wright, Oliver O’Donovan, and others.

There are various possible objections to this procedure, but I think the most pressing one for modern (postmodern?) citizens is the issue of religious freedom: if we grant that as Christians the OT in some way provides an ethical standard for modern states, does this imply that morality requires the end of religious freedom? As I said above, I think the vast majority of modern Christians would not want to go there. But the serious question is: does this method force us to anyway?

I think, helpfully, the answer is no. The most succinct and helpful explanation of why I have found recently has come from two thinkers: Vern Poythress and Oliver O’Donovan.

First, Poythress argues in his book, The Shadow of Christ in the Law of Moses:

Deut. 13:1-18 instructs Israel on how to deal with false prophecy and seduction to false worship in its midst. A false prophet is to be put to death (13:5). Even if a member of your own family entices you to false worship, that person is not to be spared (verses 6-11). If a whole city goes astray into idolatry, the city is to be destroyed (verses 12-18). The guilty city is destroyed in the same way that the Israelites destroyed the Canaanite cities when they entered the land of Canaan: nothing at all is left (Deut. 13:15-17; exactly as in Deut. 7:2; 20:16-18; Josh. 6:21). The people are especially warned to keep away from the “cursed” things (Deut. 13:17; 7:26; Josh. 6:18). The special word herem (???) is used in these cases signifying items “consecrated to God for destruction.”

How are the general principles of just recompense operative here? First of all, the city committed to false worship is sinning against God. This sin like all other sins deserves destruction in hell. Those who attempt to destroy God will themselves be destroyed. But as usual, this type of observation does not help us to understand how the Israelite recompense for this crime differs from the recompense for any other crime. We should therefore ask the question whether any human beings are injured in addition to the direct insult against God. The passage itself indicates that a “detestable thing has been done among you” (verse 14), suggesting that the people are polluted by the idolatry among them. The related verses concerning small-scale rebellion have a similar note: “so you shall purge the evil from the midst of you” (verse 5); “all Israel shall hear, and fear, and never again do any such wickedness as this among you” (verse 11). The city becomes a “whole burnt offering” (verse 16), which certainly suggests that a purification is taking place in the process.

We conclude, then, that the city engaging in false worship has committed an offense against Israel, not merely against God. False worship within the land of Palestine pollutes the people. As in the case of theft and other crimes, the proper recompense involves two aspects. (1) Restoration: the guilty city is responsible to restore Israel to purity; and (2) punishment: the guilty city is to suffer the same penalty in the reverse direction. The destruction of the city accomplishes both aspects simultaneously. First, the city functions as a whole burnt offering (verse 16). Those who offer the offering, namely the people of Israel, are purified by the act of offering. This act not only removes the evil from among them but also signifies a penal substitution: the city bears the penalty that otherwise Israel would bear. Second, since the city has polluted Israel, Israel must in reverse fashion pollute the city. Since the city has already suffered a first radical pollution by its act of idolatry, the only way for Israel to bring further pollution on it is by utter destruction. Cases dealing with individuals rather than whole cities involved in false worship (verses 1-11) are to be understood along the same lines. The discussion is less elaborate, but we can assume that the same principles are operative.

The logic of the penalty against false worship in the OT was that of holy war, which is clearly distinguished from non-holy war by the things commanded of the Israelites (complete destruction versus restraints, etc.). Insofar as the church is not permitted to execute holy war, then, these laws do not apply in the present dispensation of history. And there are plenty of good reasons for thinking this is the case, many of which Poythress gives later in the same chapter quoted above (and in an index of the same book dealing with theonomy).

One of the ways I have understood the difference between the dispensation of the Torah and the current period in redemptive history, though, is as it was explained to me by Oliver O’Donovan: the Christian church now lives under the shadow of the final judgment, and thus there is no more room for political (in the sense of violent) judgment in the church. Excommunication is understood as a provisional witness to the final judgment, its provisionality being evident in the fact that its goal/hope is ultimately restoration, even though it clearly is meant to symbolize an irrevocable judgment. (This understanding of the relation of church to politics is found in four of O’Donovan’s books: Resurrection and Moral Order, The Bonds of Imperfection, The Desire of Nations, and The Ways of Judgment).

Another, perhaps simpler way to understand the relation of the current era to the era of the law is in the words of Paul in Ephesian 6:11-12s: “We do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the comsic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” Another simple way of understanding the difference could be found in Jesus’ words to Pilate in John 18:36. (I don’t think the “render unto Caesar” passage is as helpful as some make it out to be, since Jesus is most likely be ironic in many ways; he’s not intending to give plain teaching on the subject, but rather outsmarting those asking him a trick question.)

Thus, granting that this objection to the idea of OT-based political ethics can be met, I h0nestly wonder if there is any reason not to pursue in depth the kind of projects that people like the Reconstructionists, and in a different way people like Christopher Wright, have attempted. If God has given us revealed guidance about politics, why would we not listen?

The CBC reports that “Full-body gowns that are worn by the most conservative Muslim women have no place in France, President Nicolas Sarkozy said Monday.”

A comment like this makes me wonder: if the arguably most secular country in the North Atlantic world is in the business of making religious decisions, is the idea of disestablishment really practically possible?

And if it isn’t, is there really any better model for religion/state relations than the Treaty of Westphalia’s cuius regio, eius religio? (And it should be noted such a philosophy is logically consistent with a democratic state.)

Charles Taylor charts a shift from the Middle Ages:

“For the Middle Ages, there was an aura of sanctity around poverty. It was not that this extremely rank-conscious society did not have a healthy contempt for the destitute and powerless, at the absolute bottom of the social ladder. But precisely because of this, the poor person offered an occasion of sanctification. Following the discourse of Matthew 25, to help a person in need was to help Christ. [...]

But in the fifteenth century, partly as a result of a rise in population, and crop failures, and a consequent flow of the destitute towards the towns, there is a radical change in attitude. A new series of poor laws is adopted, whose principle is sharply to distinguish those who are capable of work from those who genuinely have no recourse but charity.”

This shift to distinguishing the “deserving” and the “undeserving” poor (to use the 19th century terminology) has been well sustained throughout Western culture for quite some time now.

Narrowly beating out “kitsch,” that’s the one word description that seems most applicable for the American Patriot’s Bible that is now making the rounds in the blogosphere.

Deist (and Bible re-writer) Thomas Jefferson was unavailable to comment, same with atheist Ben Franklin.

In all seriousness, I understand the impulse behind an attempt like this, the hope that everything that a person holds dear can fit together in a harmonious set of interlocking goals and ideals. For the many American evangelicals who are particularly stirred by patriotism this is a sort of wish-fulfillment isn’t it? 

The reality is that every Christian-majority country has tried to couch their political and military actions in religious terms. God was claimed to be in aid of both the British and the German empires at the onset of WWI. Britain, Spain, France, and Prussia all tried to claim him in the Seven Years War.

I wonder what Mark Driscoll would think of this:

“Men have worked as essentially shop keepers and store clerks for a lot longer than they have worked on assembly lines.  There have been waiters forever.  Lawyers are the world’s second oldest profession.  Teaching was a male-only profession for centuries.  The idea that men are and ought to be unreflective, grunting, two-fisted louts good with their hands but not so much with their hearts and their heads is a class thing not a gender thing and it is imposed upon working class men by a system that needs them to be beasts of burden.”

Charles Taylor on Luther, Catholicism, and hell:

“The sale of indulgences was driven by a fear of punishment. But Luther’s message was that we are all sinners, and deserve punishment. Salvation involves facing and accepting this fully. Only in facing our full sinfulness, can we throw ourselves on the mercy of God, by which alone we are justified. ‘Who fears Hell runs towards it’. We have to face down our fears, and this transmutes them into confidence in the saving power of God.

There is perhaps an irony here. A great deal of Catholic preaching on sin and repentance was based on the principle that the ordinary person was so insensitive that they had to be terrified into responding. They had to be woken with strong effects. Preachers tried to culpabilize their audiences to the extreme. Even venial sins were talked up as something terrible, because after all, they also involve offense to God. But just this cranking up of fear may have helped to prepare people to respond to Luther’s reversal of the field.

The irony is perhaps compounded when we see how some Protestant preaching repeats the same pattern. You’re supposed to be confident in your salvation, but not flatly complacent. But because many ministers saw their flocks as leaning towards the second danger, they too cranked up the terrifying visions of damnation. Did this prepare the desertion of a goodly part of their flock to humanism?”

This is interesting given that there are still many among the Protestant laity and clergy that insist that no one is saying enough about hell these days. Could this be exactly the wrong impulse?

I came across this BBC show where a Christian philosopher argues that evolution is entirely consistent with traditional readings of the Bible, something that ought to frustrate everyone from Kent Hovind to Richard Dawkins.

Part 1:

Part 2:

Part 3:

Part 4:

Part 5:

Part 6:

Thematically, this sort of riffs on something Keith wrote recently. A couple shows that I’ve sort of started paying attention to on TV are Mad Men and Life on Mars (the British original). Purely as entertainment, I’d recommend both, but that’s not why I’m talking about them today. Now I don’t want to speak too much about either show since I am indeed a novice fan at best, but these are my first impressions: What both of these shows do so masterfully is look at the past without nostalgia, in such a way that you don’t yearn for the past, but are rather thankful that we are no longer in the past. At least for my part I’m not in any hurry to return to the magical time ruled by chain-smoking womanizers whose tactics would today fall under the rubric of date-rape.

Anyway, I prefer this to the boomer-nostalgia narrative about things being so much better in the “good old days” and how life used to be so much simpler and nicer. That’s not a wise way to look at the world.