A Recommitment to Human Rights and to the Civil Intolerance of Torture

 

 

I often wonder if the movie "Zero Dark Thirty" relieves American audiences of the awful images and guilt of terroristic beheadings and torture committed against itself and other Western civilizations during this past decade of America's unabated war on terror. That it says to America's enemies that you may expect as worst in retaliation and retribution. And although this is small comfort to those who have suffered or lost their lives both here and abroad - whether friend or foe - a civilized country should always remember to temper its frustrations and griefs from employing similarly horrendous methodologies utilized by opposing countries and their gang of thieves and rogues.

Especially for Christians who are charged by Jesus to love and to justice in a past ancient biblical world rife with torture and injustice committed by countries large and small. And perhaps this a contemporary example of an actualizing American myth as it works itself off the silver screen and x-box games into the public venue of historical actualization and acceptance by fell deeds of inhumanity taking root within the incorporated behavior of its people's consciousness. Transversing to American policies committing her to do the same to her enemies should they continue in their support and participation of terrorism - rather than pursuing more civilized methods of civil dissonance and patient diplomacy. An actualizing myth in the sense of moving America's acceptance of such brutal interrogation onto the public docks of coercive policies both domestic and international.

And by recent judgement it seems that America's public posture may have drastically changed since 2001 during our present war on terrorism from selective practices of enactment to aggressive policies of enforcement and methodology. Not that it hadn't ever been done before, but that it is now being pursued so vigorously, however the means employed (waterboarding being one such practice). To this precedence the several articles below would caution restraint and general disuse realizing that barbarity can come to any culture idealizing freedom and liberty. Certainly, laudable aspirations for any nation, but especially venomous to a nation not actively practicing its constitutionally appointed rights and mandates to even those whom it would consider as its enemies. Turning a blind eye to its inherent charters of constitutional humanity and pursuing more brutal policies to its own destruction and demise.

Thus, we would advocate the lessening of saber rattling in Hollywood, and in caustic media portrayals of America, and a return to a more civil restraint of mind and conscience. But this cannot be done by national mandate and laws, but from within a society's heart and soul. That we demonstrate an America no longer epitomized by its international image as a self-serving protector of its own rights, to that of a country more cautionary and respectful in its policies and aggrievement proceedings, corporate resolutions, and stands on solidarity with other similarly aggrieved countries. Providing, as it were, a common ground of civil ideology from which to work in recreating an era of peace from the turmoils and manifold injustices currently existing between hostile nations in grievance with America.

To not be content with mythologizing our enemies as zombies, aliens, predators, vampires, and stereotypical images of thuggery and violence. Nor promoting ourselves in the form of anti-heroes, or by roving mob attitudes of kangaroo-court justice, or cowboy gallantry. But focused on the legitimate rights and needs of even our enemies chaffing at America's deployment of force and strength against its coffers of blood money and capitalistic lust. To stand down from actualizing our mythologized ideas of ourselves by returning to a more civil engagement of humanity found in personal and corporate practices of public service to disenfranchised minorities and dispossessed ghettos everywhere replete within the 21st Century's moiling masses of humanity. Crying out, as it were, for merciful justice, human rights advocacy, meaningful and permanent civil services, beneficial civil infrastructures, and generally, personal empowerment.

By realizing that by serving the needs of others we might re-establish our own balance of civility towards a more corporate posture of compassionate human rights and solidarity previously unimagined or expected. Relieving us of our guilt and fears ingrained by previous policies orientated towards war and suppression in the name of defense and security. And thereby reducing us to an isolated, posturing population of brawn and muscle rather than focusing on the legitimate needs and outcries of our enemies as fellow human beings reacting to the capitalistic oppression and unjust rape of their people and resources. Even if it were by America's willful propping up of oppressive heads of state within their own regional jurisdictions of control and oversight pursuant to America's goals rather than to that country's means and interests.

America is a great county. Made great by its idealized version of itself as a "City on a Hill" planted within its own heart by its originating forefathers who were refugees themselves fleeing political, religious, and civil persecution. Determined to rediscover their personal rights within a new society no longer hostile to their differences and heritage. Forefathers who wished to open America up to all dispossessed refugees of oppression seeking asylum, basic human rights, civil liberties, and humanitarian forms of justice. It was the right of every man under God to which the American constitution provided political structure and will. However, we harm ourselves by not more actively exploring how to help and assist other countries in obtaining what little freedoms and liberties we have carved out for ourselves by God's largess and blessing. Though lately it would seem that we have not committed our ways nor our will to God's benevolence and grace. For without this most basic human commitment America's corporate responsibility for its behaviors and policies will disintegrate under its own self-interests. Hence, we must work everyday as a blessed people to humanize the best forms of our citizen government in order to better enact peace, freedom, and responsible relations to a world racked by pain and injustice. This would include the Muslim countries no less than to China and Russia.

Moreover, we do well to realize that we do not stand alone in our fears, our angers, nor our sufferings, within this world that we live in. That many times over it has been the sad experience of other woeful citizenry caught between powers of oppression. From Eastern Europe, to the Muslim masses, to the impoverished African countries controlled by fierce, inhuman gun lords and tyrannical governments. To SE Asia's experiences of aggressive sino-socialism, even to countries in South America and Mexico powerless to stop the rape and pillage of their own citizenry before the cruel hands of powerful crime and drug lords. For this America bears responsibility to lead by strength, and by strength of will, in all matters of human resolution, protection, civility, and justice. Even to unempowered nations ravaged by sin and hatred within their own assemblies and land-bound contracts with one another.

Hence, we do not wish to turn a blind eye to our own governmental policies as citizens of Nazi Germany once did. A Catholic Christian country that became inhuman and hellish to the very state of humanity itself. Nor to become powerless citizens before the creation of an oppressive state system by the hands of our own making in its socialistic and militaristic endeavors. Charged with the simultaneous mandates of peace and humanity but found within its parts to be anything but that. But to become citizens actively declaring to our government and media industry a stronger will of intolerance to any deviations from Jesus' mandates to love and to service to one another. To behave ourselves wisely and not to become caught up in the lifeboat malpractices of ethical confusion to the general harm of those "unlike" ourselves. To consider every man, woman, and child, as an image bearer of God, and precious in His holy sight. To mandate the right of civility and humanity in actualizing terms that would remove any images and myths that would reduce us to civil impoverishment and divine judgment.

Movies like "Zero Dark Thirty" cannot be so much ignored or boycotted as accepted and published in public declaration to just how far we have strayed from America's former commitments to life and liberty for all mankind. Rather than denying Hollywood's horror flicks and indiscretionary violence for violence sake, it should reawaken us by putting our pulse upon the lifeblood of our great nation and forthrightly declare to us our fears, our shame, guilts and sin. Fighting Hollywood and the media is not the issue here. It is we ourselves that this industry is portraying. And it to ourselves that we must work to change by the help of Almighty God and in the power of His Holy Spirit. For within the heart of man is sin and darkness. And in man's rebirth through Jesus can be found light and life. It is to this Kingdom that we wish to share and envisage with all the nations of the earth.

Consequently, music and movies, novels and news, may more accurately tell us of ourselves than we may wish to accept or believe - though we would pay dear coinage for any revisionary image of ourselves that we can find - myths and game technology included. For in those images do we find our actualized versions of ourselves if we continue to allow our selfish absorptions to continue and progress. But these are imperfect, dithering images made by man in his own lamentable image, and not in the Son of God's own image of grace and goodness. Against which we find hope in any local municipality, corporation, school, college, church, or community group, promoting the welfare of others by active service, giving, personal involvement and participation. These are the laudable sublime practices of a liberating nation wishing to break its stereotypes by opening up hand and heart to the needs of those around it. For it is by giving of ourselves that we may find ourselves. By focusing upon the needs and rights of all men - even our perceived enemies - if we wish to dispel the boogie-man of our fears and nightmares, fantasies and delusions.

R.E. Slater
February 25, 2013

 

 

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Is This (Torture as Entertainment) What We Have Come To?

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2013/02/is-this-torture-as-entertainment-what-we-have-come-to/

 

by Roger Olson

February 24, 2013

Comments

 

A New York Times article by Samuel G. Freedman (republished in my local newspaper Feb. 23, 2013 under the headline “Through a theological lens”) discusses the film “Zero Dark Thirty” and its implications for the subject of torture.

 

The movie is about the investigation leading up to the raid on Osama bin Laden’s compound and depicts scenes of people being tortured for information leading to that.

 

The article quotes Princeton theologian George Hunsinger asking “What does it say about American culture that torture has become a form of entertainment for us?” Hunsinger rightly, I believe, concludes that “Torture has been normalized since Sept. 11 in a way that’s unimaginable.”

 

According to the article, a Pew Research Center poll found that between 2004 and 2011 a majority of Americans came to favor use of torture against suspected terrorists.

 

Evangelical ethicist David Gushee says “Our culture has almost lost the ability to have a genuinely moral conversation.” What he means, and I agree, is that pragmatism has swept away almost all sense of ethical absolutes.

 

I won’t be viewing “Zero Dark Thirty.” Nor do I rent movies I know show scenes of torture. It’s amazing how often, however, such scenes appear in “family films” rated PG-13. [Amen - res]

 

One movie I will recommend that contains a rather gruesome torture scene is one most people seem to have forgotten: The Siege (1998). It shows one of the problems with torture. An innocent man is tortured to death.

 

Many experts have argued that torture doesn’t work because under torture suspects will say whatever they think their tormenters want to hear. Another problem, of course, is that nobody knows with certainty whether the person being tortured has the information desired. Finally, it’s a slippery slope. If torturing the suspect doesn’t work, why not torture his family in front of him? Once pragmatism replaces absolutes there’s no place to stop.

 

But those are pragmatic arguments against torture. From a Christian point of view, if not just a civilized one, torture is wrong because it violates the dignity of a person created in God’s image and likeness.

 

I would like to suggest that torture in movies (and some TV shows) has become a new form of pornography. It’s widespread use demonstrates that many viewers want it. They must get some kind of enjoyment out of watching another person’s pain.

 

This is a subject for sermons. I wish Christian pastors of all traditions would speak out about it and urge their congregations to 1) avoid movies that depict torture scenes, and 2) write e-mails to movie makers and theaters urging them to cease portraying torture. Maybe a boycott is in order?

 

 

 

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‘Zero Dark Thirty,’ Through a Theological Lens

 http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/23/us/a-theological-view-of-zero-dark-thirty.html?ref=samuelgfreedman&_r=0

 

by Samuel g. Freedman

Published: February 22, 2013

 

Almost nine years ago, journalists on “60 Minutes II” and at The New Yorker revealed a trove of photographs showing the abuse and humiliation of Iraqi detainees by American soldiers at Abu Ghraib prison. The images of inmates variously stripped, hooded, leashed like a dog, piled into naked heaps and forced to simulate oral sex then spread widely, causing international outcry.

 

Even on the patriotic home front, the revulsion was widespread. President George W. Bush called the Abu Ghraib episode “abhorrent.” Senators across party lines, having been shown more than a thousand photos, described them as “appalling” and “horrific.”

 

At the 2013 Oscars on Sunday night, one of the nominees for best picture, indeed one of the most lauded films of the year, contains scenes of prisoner treatment that closely recreate the Abu Ghraib tactics. Yet in “Zero Dark Thirty"the use of “enhanced interrogation techniques,” including waterboarding, forms part of a heroic narrative, as a valiant C.I.A. officer tracks down Osama bin Laden.

 



A still from the Oscar-nominated movie "Zero Dark Thirty," in which

a Navy SEAL team raid Osama bin Laden's compound. Pictures by

"Jonathan Olley/Columbia Pictures."

 

There has been much debate about the film, primarily about its historical accuracy, but one might say not the right debate, not the deepest debate. Aside from a few Hollywood dissidents like Edward Asner, it has been left largely to theologians to call the film into question not on the pragmatic ground of its fealty to facts but on the moral ground of its message: that torture succeeds, and because it succeeds we should accept it.

 

“Our culture has almost lost the ability to have a genuinely moral conversation,” said Prof. David P. Gushee, 50, a Southern Baptist who directs the Center for Theology and Public Life at Mercer University in Atlanta. “The utilitarian-type reasoning is the only vocabulary we have. The only way we can decide what to do is whether it works. That’s a terribly impoverished moral conversation. It leaves out the question of whether torture is intrinsically right or wrong.”

 

For the Rev. George Hunsinger, a Presbyterian minister who teaches at Princeton Theological Seminary, “Zero Dark Thirty” evoked the same kind of moral questions he associates with the American decision to drop atomic bombs on Japan. But the film has the added complication of being something that the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki never were: an instant box office product.

 

“What does it say about American culture that torture has become a form of entertainment for us?” asked Mr. Hunsinger, 67, who is involved with the National Religious Campaign Against Torture. “Torture has been normalized since Sept. 11 in a way that’s unimaginable.”

 

That normalization can be measured in specific ways. Directed by Kathryn Bigelow and written by Mark Boal, “Zero Dark Thirty” has grossed $88 million at the box office and received the top prize from the New York Film Critics Circle. It will compete in five categories on Sunday’s Academy Awards, including best picture and best original screenplay.

 

The film has also received some criticism, which may dampen its Oscar prospects. Writing in The New York Review of Books, Steve Coll assailed “Zero Dark Thirty” for taking fictional liberties from the factual record, all the while asserting on-screen that it is “based on firsthand accounts of actual events.” Among the real episodes omitted, Mr. Coll pointed out, are the objections to “enhanced interrogation techniques” by certain military and legal officials during the Bush presidency.

 

Senator John McCain, a former prisoner of war, joined with his Senate colleagues Carl Levin and Dianne Feinstein in writing an open letter to Sony Pictures, which released the film, declaring “cruel, inhuman, and degrading treatment of prisoners is an unreliable and highly ineffective means of gathering intelligence.”

 

So, by the first argument, the film is flawed because it does not follow the historical record. By the second, the film is flawed because torture does not work. What neither argument takes up, but what some theologians have been wrestling with throughout the “global war against terror,” is what a civilized society should think about torture even if it does work.

 

In that respect, “Zero Dark Thirty” may have done an unintended favor to the national discourse by positing that torture, at least sometimes, succeeds. How do we feel about that? The numerous awards for the film already suggest that we feel tolerant, even approving. Polling by the Pew Research Center has shown a swing between 2004 and 2011, from a majority of Americans rejecting the use of torture against terrorist suspects to a majority favoring it.

 

In 2007, as opinion was shifting, Professor Gushee of Mercer University helped write “An Evangelical Declaration Against Torture.” While condemning Al Qaeda’s attacks on the United States, and while affirming the nation’s right to self-defense, the declaration stated near its end:

 

“When torture is employed by a state, that act communicates to the world and to one’s own people that human lives are not sacred, that they are not reflections of the Creator, that they are expendable, exploitable, and disposable, and that their intrinsic value can be overridden by utilitarian arguments that trump that value. These are claims that no one who confesses Christ as Lord can accept.”

 

At least one such person offered a prominent rebuttal. Keith Pavlischek, who was then a fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center, faulted the declaration for not adequately distinguishing between captured terrorists and prisoners of war, and for not precisely defining torture.

 

At a theological level, he argued that the document had “explicitly repudiated Christian just war teaching.”

 

One can only wish that a similarly spirited discussion, one rooted in the concept of morality, might have gotten beyond religious and ethical circles and brought some gravitas to all the attention to the red carpet and Oscar pools.

 

But moviegoing is, in part, about escapism, and now that escapism apparently includes the matter of torture.

 

“By transforming all of this into suspenseful entertainment,” said Prof. James Turner Johnson of Rutgers, a scholar of just-war theology, “the film is presenting actions that there was a great deal of debate over into something that must be done, standard operating procedure. It tends to baptize it.

 

And the truth is that we, as a society, are looking away.”

 

 

 

Roger Olson: "Why I Am Not a Fundamentalist (or Conservative Evangelical)"

 

Why I Am Not a Fundamentalist (or Conservative Evangelical)

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2013/02/why-i-am-not-a-fundamentalist-or-conservative-evangelical/

 

by Roger Olson

February 14, 2013

Comments

 

I gladly identify myself as an “evangelical Christian,” but I prefer not to call myself or be considered a fundamentalist or conservative even though there were times and contexts in which I might have fit those categories (however uncomfortably).

 

Recently I posted here about how I define “fundamentalism” and identify a person as “fundamentalist.” Anyone who has come here often for very long knows I am not a fundamentalist by my own definition and description. I might be according to someone else’s, but historically-theologically I am not. Why?

 

If I were transported back in time (something I don’t believe is possible because the past is closed) to, say, the first decade of the 20^th century, I might fit somewhere in the fundamentalist camp, movement, even if not at its center. Then it was not necessary to believe in or practice “biblical separation” (to say nothing of “secondary separation”). I think there are beliefs essential to being authentically Christian. (Although I do not think salvation hinges on doctrinal beliefs.) I have posted here before my thoughts about what those are (e.g., the deity of Jesus Christ and his bodily resurrection). One reason I would probably be uncomfortably fundamentalist (in that paleo- form), if at all, is that I do not think evolution is false.

 

However, as I explained in that post, “fundamentalism” changed after 1925. In that sense, the “post-1925” sense, I would not identify as fundamentalist. I do not believe that biblical inerrancy is an essential Christian belief. I believe all truth is God’s truth, wherever it may be found (even in “secular” science and philosophy). And I enjoy Christian fellowship with believers who do not practice “biblical separation” (from heresy).

 

So why am I not a fundamentalist (by my definition of that)? I find fundamentalism too much like the religious type the New Testament describes as “the scribes and Pharisees.” It is too rigid, exclusive, dogmatic, resistant to truth (e.g., age of the earth as proven by science), divisive, suspicious, judgmental, “wooden” in terms of its approach to Scripture. (By that I mean inflexible, literalistic, putting all Scripture on the same level of importance.) And it is too separatistic with regard to other Christians. My own Christianity has been greatly enriched (which includes being challenged so that I have to think hard about why I believe) by my encounters with Christians of all traditions including liberal.

 

Why do I not identify as a “conservative evangelical?” First, it’s important to understand that “conservative” is an indexical term. There is no specific historical-theological movement to tie it to. It’s a relative term—always meaningful only in relation to someone or something else.

 

I think most theologians (and I am one, so that’s part of my context) who consider themselves “conservative evangelical” are too close to fundamentalist for my comfort. That category usually includes belief in inerrancy. I do not know many, if any, theologians or educated pastors who consider themselves “conservative evangelical” who do not believe in biblical inerrancy. To me, anyway, “conservative evangelical” means “conservative among evangelicals.” Among evangelicals I am not conservative. That is, relative to most evangelicals, I am not conservative. Among liberals (that is, in comparison to them), I am conservative.

 

I have labeled myself a “postconservative evangelical.” What does that mean? Unlike most conservative evangelicals, I do not privilege tradition or literalistic hermeneutics (to say nothing of biblical inerrancy) in an absolute way. All conservative evangelicals I know tend to give some tradition a veto in matters of theological controversy. That tradition is usually either “the ancient Christian consensus” (paleo-orthodoxy) or “the received evangelical tradition” (usually meaning something like the Old Princeton School of theology [Hodge, Warfield, et al.]). With Rabbi Kaplan of Reconstructionist Judaism I say that tradition always gets a vote but never a veto. All conservative evangelicals I know agree that the Bible should be interpreted “as literally as possible, as figuratively as necessary.” I think it is possible to interpret Jonah literally, for example, but I don’t think it’s necessary.

 

The two tasks of theology are critical and constructive. Most conservative evangelicals think the constructive task is finished. (They may not say that, but they are highly resistant to constructive theology.) They are satisfied to practice theology’s critical task of examining beliefs labeled “Christian” critically in light of Scripture, tradition and reason. Some might add “experience” to round out the Wesleyan quadrilateral (but most would not). My experience of conservative evangelicals is that they tend to be highly critical of anyone who dares to reconstruct traditional doctrines even when that reconstruction is done using fresh and faithful biblical research.

 

So, as usual, here are some stories to illustrate my points. Some years ago I dared to defend open theism as a legitimate evangelical research project. I never adopted it myself—as my own belief. Several conservative evangelical acquaintances told me that it can’t be true because it’s new. I once heard a conservative evangelical speaker tell a church audience about theology “If it’s true, it can’t be new. If it’s new, it can’t be true.” I wonder what he would have said to Luther about his “new ideas” about justification? What he uttered was exactly what many of Luther’s Catholic critics said to him. I spoke on a panel at a region meeting of the Evangelical Theological Society in defense of open theism and postfoundationalism—as legitimate evangelical options. A conservative evangelical said to me “Aren’t you just defending the ‘goddess of novelty’?”

 

Open theism. New interpretation of Paul. Egalitarianism. Inclusivism. All these and more are often criticized by conservative evangelicals as automatically false because they’re “new.” Oh, yes, of course, they go on to attempt to falsify them using Scripture. But the first reaction is “new, so not true.”

 

Now, what about that “goddess of novelty” jibe? Well, anyone who knows me knows I am not given to worshiping new ideas in theology (or anywhere) or favoring them because of their newness. On the other hand, neither do I think tradition is equal with Scripture. And I think culture sometimes forces us to reconsider traditional interpretations of Scripture. (Even Charles Hodge admitted that science has done that with regard to the solar system and the age of the earth.)

 

What I think is that many, perhaps most, conservative evangelicals have erected Old School Princeton theology, Hodge and Warfield especially, as authoritative such that any interpretation of Scripture fundamentally in conflict with what they believed must be viewed with suspicion if not rejected out of hand.

 

There’s a sign on the interstate some miles south of where I live. It promotes tourism to a little town a way off the interstate. The sign says “Gently resisting change since 1872.” Whenever I see it I think of conservative evangelicals I know and Hodge’s Systematic Theology which was published in that year. Sometimes I would like to take that sign (that is, make a copy of it) and erect it outside the entrance to meetings of conservative evangelical theologians. Recently, however, I think I would have to add “Not so” before “gently.”

 

 

 

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What Is “Fundamentalism” and Who Is a “Fundamentalist?”

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2013/02/what-is-fundamentalism-and-who-is-a-fundamentalist/

 

by Roger Olson

February 12, 2013

Comments

 

What Is “Fundamentalism” and Who Is a “Fundamentalist?”

 

Recently I posted here “Why I Am Not a ‘Liberal’ Christian.” Someone asked me to write a similar post about fundamentalism—specifically how to identify a fundamentalist.

 

I’ll begin with what most readers, probably, want to see and what the requester asked for—a series of criteria for identifying fundamentalism (or someone as a fundamentalist). Then I’ll go on to give historical-theological justification for the criteria. Readers who are not interested in the (admittedly rather lengthy and detailed) historical-theological justification can stop reading whenever they wish. However, I warn them that if they comment on my criteria critically I will probably tell them to go back and read the historical-theological explanation that follows the criteria.

 

So here are my (notice I say “my!”) criteria:

 

1) If a person (or organization) is a theologically conservative Protestant Christian (by which I mean embracing classically orthodox Protestant doctrines such as the deity of Christ, the Trinity, the inspiration of Scripture, salvation by grace through faith, etc.) and on principle declines to have Christian fellowship with anyone who has Christian fellowship with persons of questionable doctrinal commitments (“secondary separation”), he is probably a fundamentalist.

 

2) If a person (I’ll skip the rest that came before the “and” in the first criterion above from here on) believes that belief in biblical inerrancy in all matters, including history and cosmology, is a cardinal tenet of Christian faith, she is probably a fundamentalist.

 

3) If a person believes that the Authorized Version (KJV) is the only acceptable English translation of the Bible, he is probably a fundamentalist.

 

4) If a person believes premillennial eschatology (and especially “pre-tribulational rapturism”) and young earth creationism are crucial Christian beliefs, “fundamentals of the faith,” she is probably a fundamentalist.

 

5) If a person believes that America is “God’s nation” in an exclusive way (of other nations, tribes and peoples) such that America is, as a nation, part of God’s salvation history and plan of redemption, he is probably a fundamentalist. (In Great Britain this would apply to belief about that nation such as “British Israelism.”)

 

6) If a person believes that the Bible ought to be the basis of an entire educational curriculum, including studies of science, philosophy, psychology, etc., she is probably a fundamentalist. (To put this negatively: If a person does not believe truth can exist outside a Bible-based research project, that “all truth is God’s truth,” even that discovered by non-Christians, she is probably a fundamentalist.)

 

7) If a person believes that Catholics cannot be Christians and/or Calvinists or non-Calvinists cannot be evangelicals (etc.), he is probably, at least in some respects, a fundamentalist.

 

These are not absolute litmus tests. It’s theoretically possible that a person might hold most of these beliefs and, for some unforeseen reason (a fluke) not be a fundamentalist. Normally, a fundamentalist embraces all or most of these beliefs. Holding one alone does not make him or her a fundamentalist. As I explain below, “fundamentalism” is an ideal type, not an all-or-nothing template. And, these (above) are my criteria, based on years of studying fundamentalism.

 

So, here, below, is my historical-theological explanation:

 

First, let me repeat something about these labels that many readers seem to miss or misunderstand. You may consider yourself either fundamentalist or not for different reasons than I give here. That is, your definition of it may be different than mine. I am explaining how I define the category. The same was true for liberal theology. Some people take umbrage because they fit my criteria but don’t consider themselves theologically liberal. Fine. But I do (if you fit the criteria). Some people take umbrage because they consider themselves liberal but don’t fit my criteria. Fine. But then I don’t consider you liberal. Get it? The same applies to “fundamentalist.”

 

I am a historical theologian who specializes in modern theology. My forthcoming book InterVarsity book The Journey of Modern Theology: from Reconstruction to Deconstruction will be somewhere in the vicinity of 700 pages in length and constitute one of the most exhaustive one volume critical surveys of modern theology in print. I’ve spent thirty-five years studying modern theology including “liberal theology” and “fundamentalism.” That doesn’t make me infallible, of course, and I’m open to correction. But to say that I “haven’t studied liberal theology” (as one commenter here stated) is absurd.

 

I mentioned my sources about liberal theology (Welch, Dorrien, Reardon, Brown, et al.). What are my sources about fundamentalism? Over the years that I have been teaching courses in modern and contemporary theology and church history at three Christian universities I have invited several self-identified Christian fundamentalists to my classes to speak about the subject. I have also had many encounters and interactions (some pleasant, some not so pleasant) with self-identified, knowledgeable fundamentalist theologians. I grew up surrounded by self-identified fundamentalists (and some relatives and acquaintances who called themselves “evangelical” but were also fundamentalists). I have read numerous books by fundamentalists and about fundamentalists. I own an almost complete set (first editions) of The Fundamentals.

 

So who are some scholars that I have read on the subject of fundamentalism? Probably most important are George Marsden, Mark Noll, Joel Carpenter, Randall Balmer, and Martin Marty. (I should mention here that I have read some of Scott Appleby’s work on fundamentalism but thought from the beginning he was applying the term too broadly and using a sociological definition rather than a theological one.) And I have read fundamentalists such as George Dollar, John R. Rice, Carl McIntire, Elmer Towns, Kevin Bauder, and many others. I grew up in a home that subscribed to Rice’s The Sword of the Lord publication and that included many fundamentalist books. One of my most recent (and most enjoyable) reads about fundamentalism was The Sword of the Lord: The Roots of Fundamentalism in an American Family by Andrew Himes (John R. Rice’s grandson). I reviewed it here.

 

It seems to me that the words “fundamentalism” and “fundamentalist” have taken on many different meanings in recent years—like many religious labels. I remember reading in a secular publication that C. S. Lewis was a “fundamentalist Anglican.” When I taught at Oral Roberts University the local newspaper referred to Oral as a “fundamentalist.” I wrote a letter correcting the editors. Oral was no fundamentalist—by any objective, historical-theological standards. He was then a charismatic United Methodist who hired Catholics, Orthodox and even semi-liberal Protestants to teach at his university. He refused to have any doctrinal statement. The only question I was asked when being interviewed was if I was in “general agreement” with Oral’s ministry. I was then (or at least convinced myself I could be), but after two years I was no longer, so I left.

 

Here I will describe four contemporary meanings of “fundamentalism” and “fundamentalist” even though there are probably more.

 

First, there is the popular, journalistic meaning and it applies those labels to anyone considered religiously conservative and fanatical. I remember how shocked I was when I heard television journalists referring to “Islamic fundamentalism” at the time the Ayatollah Khomeini came to power in Iran. Soon the appellation was being applied to all kinds of people most of whom were suspected of being potential terrorists. It was a “Hindu fundamentalist” who assassinated Gandhi. Hindu fundamentalist? How did “fundamentalist” get out of its original Christian context and into world religions, politics and violence? Many original fundamentalists, like William Jennings Bryan, were pacifists! Now it’s not unusual to hear and read journalists referring to Amish, Islamists, orthodox Jews, and numerous other disparate religious groups as “fundamentalists.” So what do all these people have in common that causes journalists so to label them?

 

Second, there is the sociological meaning of “fundamentalism” and “fundamentalist.” I’m not sure which came first, this meaning and then the wildly broad and inclusive journalistic meaning or vice versa. For the past thirty-some years sociologists have been defining “fundamentalism” as “religious anti-modernism.” Allegedly, anyone who is against modernity for religious reasons is a “fundamentalist.” But there are some problems with that. First, it’s simply too broad. Second, many fundamentalists, historically, were consciously or unconsciously influenced by modernity. Third, fundamentalists are often the most willing to make religious use of modern technological innovations. Fourth, many spiritually-minded postmodern people could be called anti-modern in certain ways but could not rightly be called fundamentalists.

 

Third, there is the popular, Baptist and evangelical meaning of these terms. In this idiomatic use a “fundamentalist” is a mean-spirited conservative evangelical willing to use nasty, underhanded means to win a battle for control of a denomination. Then, more recently, I have heard people who use the label this way argue that there can be and are “fundamentalist liberals” because liberals (and even moderates!) can also be mean-spirited, nasty and underhanded. This seems to be a use of the labels to describe anyone considered religiously conniving and manipulative. This is, of course, entirely subjective and pejorative and has no place in scholarly discussions of fundamentalism.

 

Fourth, there is the historical-theological meaning of these terms “fundamentalism” and “fundamentalist.” This is the approach I am always trying to promote (to some people’s amusement because they think I am like Don Quixote in this campaign). Unless we stick to historical-theological descriptions and definitions, religious labels float away into unusable vagueness and ambiguity. So what do I mean by “historical-theological approach?” In defining and using religious and especially theological labels we ought to keep them rooted in historical movements and prototypes. Almost no one I know would dispute that “fundamentalism” began as a Protestant movement with strong theological overtones in the late nineteenth and/or early twentieth centuries. We ought to be creative enough to come up with other labels for non-Christian and Christian movements that bear certain vague affinities with it. For example, “Catholic fundamentalism” or “fundamentalist Catholicism” is simply a misnomer. In Catholic religious history those called that would better be labeled “extreme integralists” or “radical traditionalists” (or something).

 

So what is the historical-theological definition of “fundamentalism” and “fundamentalist?” Well, that is much debated. Here you will find my own approach to it.

 

Fundamentalism is a centered-set category without definite boundaries (like all movements and ideal types). It began as a relatively cohesive movement and then, like most religious movements, dissolved but remained as an ethos permeating several movements, ministries, churches, denominations, organizations, etc. First I will describe the movement (which must remain the anchor for describing fundamentalism) and then the ethos emanating from it.

 

Scholars disagree about when and where fundamentalism began. As usual, the truth seems to be that it began in several places, independently, simultaneously. Several individuals and groups were thinking along similar lines, found each other, and coalesced around certain affinities. The common features of all these individuals and groups were: conservative Protestant, anti-modernist (in terms of ideology), anti-liberal theology, privileging something considered “traditional” that is recognizable as a blend of revivalism and Protestant scholastic orthodoxy, biblicism (belief in biblical inerrancy and as literal interpretation as possible), etc.

 

Some of these people were Baptists, Presbyterians, Wesleyans (Holiness), independents (“Bible Christians” influenced by the Plymouth Brethren movement), and Congregationalists. Pentecostals eventually joined in around the margins, uncomfortably. None were Catholics or Eastern Orthodox. Very few, if any, were Anabaptists.

 

Nothing in the previous paragraph is meant to imply that all of any of those groups were among the original fundamentalists. To conclude that from the paragraph would be illogical. The point is that original fundamentalism was made up solely of Protestant Christians of many denominational identities (and none) with strong leanings toward revivalism and strict orthodoxy. (Some leaned more toward Reformed orthodoxy; Arminians tended to lean more toward revivalism.)

 

What brought this disparate and even somewhat motley group together under a single banner was militant defense of conservative Protestantism against liberal theology and higher biblical criticism.

Here “militant” does not mean “violent.” It means aggressive, pro-active (some would say “reactionary,” organized and vocal.

 

Early fundamentalists disagreed about many things: the sacraments/ordinances, church polity, eschatology, modern (as opposed to biblical) miracles, predestination and free will, etc. But they agreed that liberal (“Ritschlian”) theology and higher criticism of the Bible were very serious assaults on “real Christianity” that needed to be confronted and stopped. Their collective attitude was that “theological modernism” (as I described it in my earlier post about liberal theology) was false Christianity in the same way that, say, Mormonism and Christian Science and Jehovah’s Witness teaching was false Christianity. But unlike those, it was inside the churches and their colleges and seminaries. It needed to be rooted out and if it couldn’t be true Christians would have to leave those denominations, colleges, universities, seminaries, etc., and found ones committed to true Christianity.

 

They were, in other words, early twentieth century Puritans. Exactly like the Puritans of the seventeenth century, the early fundamentalists believed the churches needed to be purged of heresy and everything linked with it symbolically. And that’s where the trouble started—what that meant. What did it mean to purge the churches and Christian organizations of everything symbolically linked with heresy? And how to root out hidden heresies and heretics?

 

Scholars disagree about the birth of the term “fundamentalism.” Many, perhaps the majority, insist it was coined by Baptist editor Curtis Lee Laws in 1920. That may be true of the “-ism.” But the root “fundamentals” was being used before then as various groups listed the essentials of true Christianity as “fundamentals of the faith.” The booklets titled The Fundamentals were published in 1910 and 1911. These were articles written by leading fundamentalist scholars and ministers—defending what they saw as the essentials of Christianity with a strong anti-liberal flavor. (However, ironically, many of the authors would later not fit the emerging fundamentalist profile.) 1919 was the year William Bell Riley founded the World Christian Fundamentals Association and added premillennialism to the list of essential Christian beliefs—a move that excluded many people widely recognized as fundamentalists (especially those in the Reformed tradition such as J. Gresham Machen).

 

So that was early, original fundamentalism. Most contemporary conservative evangelicals would probably have been fundamentalists then. Except in Riley’s mind. He and his Texas friend J. Frank Norris joined hands across the Mason-Dixon Line (imaginary as it is in the Midwest) to forge a new, more militant, and exclusive form of fundamentalism. Many fundamentalists were swayed by Riley’s and Norris’ strict and exclusive approach. A divide began to open within the fundamentalist movement—between the narrow, exclusivist camp that absolutely eschewed evolution in any form, including “progressive creationism,” insisted on strict biblical inerrancy and literal interpretation (e.g., of Daniel and Revelation including premillennialism and eventually pretribulational dispensationalism) and the somewhat more moderate Reformed camp that followed Machen when he founded Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia. There were those in that camp, however, who were more militant and exclusive than Machen and eventually broke off to found hyper-conservative groups and institutions. Carl McIntire was one of them.

 

Because of this evolution within fundamentalism (no pun intended!), scholars tend to talk about “pre-1925 fundamentalism” and “post-1925 fundamentalism.” The main movers and shakers of the fundamentalist movement after 1925 (the year of the infamous Scopes Trial in Dayton, Tennessee widely regarded as a huge humiliation for fundamentalism) informally added “biblical separation” to the list of essentials of authentic Christian faith. That is, true Christians will refuse Christian fellowship with outright heretics and apostates and theological modernists and liberals (such as Harry Emerson Fosdick and his ilk) belong in those categories. Fundamentalists began founding their own separate Protestant institutions and denominations, publishing houses and missionary agencies. Many organized “Bible institutes” (where the Bible was supposed to be the basis of the entire curriculum) and urged, even required, Christian young people to attend only those after high school. Throughout the 1930s American fundamentalism especially flourished, but somewhat underground and almost invisible to the mainstream media and religious organizations (such as the Federal Council of Churches).

 

But something new began to happen within the fundamentalist movement that further fractured it and, in my estimation, anyway, killed it as a movement. That was the introduction by fundamentalist leaders of the doctrine and practice of “secondary separation.” This meant that pure Christians ought to shun Christian fellowship with other Christians who did not practice “biblical separation.” Thus, when Billy Graham, a fundamentalist when he began his ministry, began to allow Catholics and liberal-leaning, “mainstream” Protestant ministers to cooperate with and support his evangelistic crusades, leading fundamentalists criticized him and withdrew their support from him.

 

I believe the fundamentalist movement broke apart into several, often competing, movements practicing different degrees of separationism in the 1940s and 1950s. Many conservative and revivalistic Protestants left fundamentalism and joined the “neo-evangelical movement” launched by Harold John Ockenga and others in 1942 (the year the National Association of Evangelicals was founded). However, the fundamentalist movement left behind an ethos. And that is how I identify a fundamentalist—by his or her embodiment of the fundamentalist ethos. The criteria cited at this post’s opening describe that ethos.

 

A true fundamentalist minister, for example, will usually not join a local “evangelical ministerial alliance” (or whatever it may be called). Now, to be sure, some ministers within such an alliance may display fundamentalist traits, but a true fundamentalist, though he may be sympathetic with some of the alliance’s goals (e.g., to provide high school graduates with a Bible-based, united, city-wide, baccalaureate service) will avoid full participation in it. He will probably seek out other fundamentalist ministers for fellowship and cooperation. These fundamentalist alliances tend to be small and fracture easily because of disagreements about fine points of doctrine, practice and Bible interpretation.

 

The fundamentalist ethos is rarely “pure.” That is, it can be discerned in partial manifestations. Whenever any of the seven criteria mentioned at this post’s beginning are apparent I suspect a fundamentalist ethos is present (in a person or a movement or an organization).

 

I have met people who call themselves fundamentalists who do not exhibit most or any of those traits (criteria). Usually they are using the label in its original (“paleo-fundamentalist”) sense—pre-1925. I have no quarrel with them and if they want to be called fundamentalists when I would categorize them as simply conservative evangelicals, that’s fine. But in certain contexts I would not call them fundamentalists because that will automatically be misunderstood. Among the literati of American religious history and historical theology, anyway, “fundamentalism” is usually understood in terms of the 1930s and afterwards movement with defining prototypes such as the previously mentioned Riley, Norris, McIntire, Rice and (not previously mentioned) Bob Jones, Richard Clearwaters, and Jerry Falwell.

 

I have before mentioned a phenomenon I call “neo-fundamentalism.” That is my term (others may use it differently) for people who embody a fundamentalist ethos but have wedged their way into neo-evangelical circles calling themselves “conservative evangelicals” and finding acceptance as such. Here is an anecdote to illustrate that. About fifteen years ago I noticed that a seminary historically noted for being fundamentalist (in the historical-theological sense) had set up a table in the evangelical college where I then taught to recruit undergraduates. I approached the recruiter, a relatively young (early middle aged) employee of the seminary. I told him I would have difficulty recommending that any of my students attend his seminary. He asked why. I told him that the seminary had a reputation for being fundamentalist. He said “No, we’re changing. We’re evangelical now.” So I asked him this question: “If Billy Graham volunteered to preach in your seminary’s chapel free of charge, no honorarium expected, would your president allow it?” His slightly red-faced response was “We’re moving in that direction.” Enough said. Now, that is not to say no fundamentalist seminary would allow Billy Graham to preach there. Some might. But a seminary that calls itself “evangelical” and would refuse to allow him to preach there is almost certainly fundamentalist whether it uses that label or not.

 

I could cite numerous similar stories of encounters I have had with people who call themselves evangelicals but who operate out of a fundamentalist ethos. Also when I taught at that evangelical college I was accosted by a local pastor who is widely known as an evangelical leader who was furious, livid, that the college’s president had invited Robert Schuller to speak there. Now, I wasn’t particularly thrilled by the president’s decision, either, but I wouldn’t be furious or livid about it. When I pointed out to the pastor that the college’s (and denomination’s) roots are in Pietism and therefore irenic he said “’Irenic’ is just a term for doctrinal indifference.” His fundamentalist ethos appeared there and then.

 

 

 

R. C. Sproul, Arminianism, and Semi-Pelagianism

R. C. Sproul, Arminianism, and Semi-Pelagianism

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2013/02/r-c-sproul-arminianism-and-semi-pelagianism/

by Roger Olson

February 22, 2013

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Many years ago, as I was emerging out of my fundamentalist-Pentecostal cocoon into the larger world of evangelicalism (during seminary studies at an evangelical Baptist seminary) I was helped by the writings and teaching of several leading Reformed evangelical theologians. James Montgomery Boice, pastor of Tenth Presbyterian Church in Philadelphia and publisher of Eternity magazine, was one of them. Not only did I read his books and articles in Eternity; I also studied under him at seminary. He took a sabbatical from his pulpit to teach homiletics at my seminary—something nobody at that seminary seems to remember! But I still have the sermons I wrote for his class and his handwritten notes on them. (He gave them good marks.)

 

Another Reformed evangelical theologian who helped me was R. C. Sproul who wrote many articles for Eternity (a now defunct magazine I have discussed here before as especially helpful to me during my student years and the first publisher of my own writings—two book reviews written when I was still in seminary). Of course I knew Sproul was a Calvinist, but so were some of my close relatives. Back then there was no hostility between evangelical Arminians and evangelical Calvinists. While in seminary I served on staff of an independent Pentecostal-charismatic church that was thoroughly Arminian. We worked in close cooperation with Reformed churches on evangelistic and other endeavors. We sometimes joked with each other about our theological differences, but there was no sense from either side that one was “more Christian” or even “more evangelical” than the other.

 

While in seminary I found my interests focusing on Christian history and especially historical theology and I learned, among other things, that something called “semi-Pelagianism” is a heresy. The Second Council of Orange condemned it as such in 529. Even then, of course, I wondered why a Catholic synod of bishops held so much weight for Protestants, but I agreed that semi-Pelagianism is biblically in error as well as seriously out of step with both Catholic and Protestant traditions (even if many in both folds fall into it out of ignorance).

 

I think it was while reading Louis Berkhof’s systematic theology that I first encountered the idea that semi-Pelagianism and Arminianism might be lumped together. That was during seminary. But it wasn’t until I was in my doctoral studies that I first encountered a blatant identification of Arminianism as semi-Pelagianism. I was serving as youth minister and director of Christian education at a Presbyterian church and teaching an adult Sunday School class. Most of the people in the class had grown up Presbyterian. I chose to have them read and discuss Presbyterian theologian Shirley Guthrie Jr.’s (that’s a man) Christian Doctrine—a fine one volume presentation of basic Christian doctrine from a Reformed perspective. There I ran into it—James Arminius used as the example of a semi-Pelagian view of election. I knew he was wrong about that and told the class, but they were hardly interested as none of them believed in election anyway! (This was a “northern Presbyterian church” in the deep South and most of the good folks were not Calvinists in spite of the Westminster Confession of Faith.)

 

When I began teaching theology at an evangelical Baptist college I used Guthrie’s book as a primary text in an introduction to doctrine course. It was so readable and full of good illustrations that I thought students would like it and I could correct his errors in my lectures—which I did. But every semester I became more annoyed at his use of Arminius as the example of semi-Pelagianism that I considered using some other textbook. Eventually someone edited Millard Erickson’s Christian Theology (three volumes to one) and I began using that. When I ran into Guthrie at a professional society meeting, I very respectfully confronted him about his error. He said I should write to him about it and he would consider changing it as he worked on a revision that was already in progress. I did that and the revision treated the subject somewhat better although not entirely to my satisfaction.

 

Throughout the 1990s I kept hearing rumblings about a new stirring of Calvinism among young evangelicals and I began to experience it among my students, many of whom were attending Bethlehem Baptist Church pastored by John Piper. I received the first issue of Modern Reformation magazine in 1992. It was dedicated to criticizing Arminian theology and many of the authors identified it as semi-Pelagian. I wrote a letter to the editor (Michael Horton) arguing that true Arminianism is not semi-Pelagianism and he published it with a lengthy response. That began our now twenty-plus year conversation about this.

 

Sometime late in the 1990s I heard a taped talk by R. C. Sproul where he simply used “semi-Pelagianism” as a synonym for “Arminianism.” In that talk (I don’t know where it was given) he divided evangelicals into two camps—“Augustinians” and “semi-Pelagians.” He treated semi-Pelagianism as a legitimate evangelical option (in contrast to Pelagianism) while criticizing it for minimizing the sovereignty of God. I could tell that by “semi-Pelagianism” he meant Arminianism.

 

I began to formulate a plan to write a book about true, classical Arminian theology. Several publishers expressed interest in it and I went with my friends at InterVarsity Press. Arminian Theology: Myths and Realities has been well-received both here in the U.S. and in other countries. It is being translated into Portugese for the Brazilian evangelical audience this year. I continue to receive e-mails from around the world thanking me for writing it—some of them from Calvinists who admit that reading it convinced them that Arminianism is not what they had thought.

In 2009 I wrote to Sproul and gently corrected his identification of Arminianism with semi-Pelagianism. I offered to send him the book if he would read it. I received his reply dated July 17, 2009. He addressed me as “Dear Roger.” He wrote that “I do not identify semi-Pelagianism with Arminianism, but as you indicate in your letter, that I see it as a variety of semi-Pelagianism. … All Arminians are semi-Pelagians in the sense that we have a relationship of genus and species.” He went on to explain that what “differentiates all forms of Augustinianism from all forms of semi-Pelagianism at bottom is the question of the efficacy of prevenient grace.” According to him, Arminianism is semi-Pelagian because it denies that grace is effectual.

I sent Sproul a signed copy of my book and asked for his response. In it I argue that “semi-Pelagianism” is more than denial of the efficacy of grace for salvation; it is the affirmation of the human initiative in salvation—which Arminians deny. I did not receive a response, so I don’t even know if he read the book. (I have given it to several Calvinist acquaintances and asked them to respond. Most did not.)

I am convinced that the identification of Arminianism with semi-Pelagianism has become a major polemical tool in the current resurgence of Calvinism among especially American (now spreading to other counties) young Christians. In other words, Sproul and other influential Calvinists present only two options: Calvinism and semi-Pelagianism and label the latter a denial of salvation by grace alone.

But what about Sproul’s definition of semi-Pelagianism? I can say quite confidently that he is wrong. “Semi-Pelagianism” is not any denial of effectual grace (i.e., what is commonly called “irresistible grace”). Every scholar of historical theology knows that “semi-Pelagianism” is a term for a particular view of grace and free will that emerged primarily in Gallic monasticism in the fifth century in response to Augustine’s strong emphasis on grace as irresistible for the elect.

 

According to historical theologian Rebecca Harden Weaver of Union Presbyterian Seminary (Virginia), whose book Divine Grace and Human Agency: A Study of the Semi-Pelagian Controversy (Mercer University Press, 1996) is the only English language monograph dedicated solely to semi-Pelagianism that I am aware of, “semi-Pelagianism” is tied inextricably to the teachings of Gallic monastic critics of Augustine and most importantly (prototypically) John Cassian. Cassian and certain other Gallic monks (“Masillians”) argued that although God may initiate salvation with grace, for many people the initiative is theirs toward God. That is, God waits to see the “exercise of a good will” before responding with grace. This is what was condemned (along with predestination to evil) at Orange in 529.

 

“Semi-Pelagianism,” then, is the view that “The beginning of faith may have its source in the human agent, although it will not always have its source there.” Furthermore, to compound Cassian’s non-Augustinian view of free will and human initiative in salvation, he taught that “The free will, even in its fallen condition, is not totally unable to will the good” and “the emphasis [of Cassian’s doctrine] falls on vigilance, unceasing struggle, in the attainment of salvation.”

 

This is the standard definition/description of semi-Pelagianism. But in some Reformed circles it has been broadened out to include any and every denial of the irresistible efficacy of grace (for the elect). That’s too broad and it departs from historical tradition in identifying what semi-Pelagianism is. That would be like me using “supralapsarian” to describe all denials of free will. I would be quickly challenged and corrected by especially infralapsarians like Sproul.

 

I was disappointed that Sproul did not respond to my book. He asked for a copy of it and I sent it with the intention that he would read it and respond. It’s been almost five years now. Perhaps life circumstances have prevented it, but I would like very much to know what other Calvinists who have misrepresented Arminianism in the same manner have to say about my book and its central argument that Arminianism is not semi-Pelagianism.

 

In the book I quote numerous Arminian theologians, from Arminius himself to Thomas Oden, to show that all classical Arminians believe that the initiative in salvation is God’s grace (prevenient grace) and that any good humans do, including the first exercise of a good will toward God, is so enabled by grace that there is no room for boasting.

 

Of course, even Calvinists who come to admit that Arminianism is not semi-Pelagianism will reject it. But my personal project in all this has not been to convert Calvinists to Arminianism; it has been to get them and Arminians to recognize what Arminianism really is in contrast to the widespread misinterpretations and misrepresentations of it.

 

 

 

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Problems with Calvinist Polemics against Arminianism

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/rogereolson/2013/02/problems-with-calvinist-polemics-against-arminianism/

 

by Roger Olson

February 10, 2013

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Of all the “five points of Calvinism” the one that bothers me most is Limited Atonement (or what many Calvinists prefer to call “Particular Atonement”). While I find unconditional election and irresistible grace troublesome and problematic, they rise nowhere near limited atonement in terms of departing from Scripture, tradition, reason and experience. I’ve explained why in Against Calvinism and other writings (e.g., my article about limited atonement in the Assemblies of God ministers’ journal Enrichment:

 

http://enrichmentjournal.ag.org/201203/201203_044_limited_atonement.cfm).

 

While writing another talk about Calvinism for a church, problems with much Calvinist polemics against belief in universal atonement occurred to me. Before stating it and pointing out problems with the polemics, however, I need to back up and explain (for those who don’t already know) what these terms mean.

 

“Limited atonement” or “particular atonement” is the belief held by many Calvinists, nearly all of those who currently belong in the “young, restless, Reformed movement” and their mentors, that Christ died only for the elect in the sense of suffering their deserved punishment. Advocates of limited atonement insist they are not actually “limiting” the atonement. They say that’s what Arminians and other non-Calvinists do by making the atonement less than “securing” our salvation. They believe, they say, that the death of Christ was of infinite value, more than sufficient to save everyone. But it was intended by God only for the elect. Presumably, they also mean that God applies the benefits of Christ’s substitutionary suffering only to the elect.

 

I have never quite understood this qualification offered by Calvinist advocates of limited or particular atonement. My question to them is: Was Christ’s suffering sufficient to substitute for the deserved suffering of all people? If so, which seems implied by the claim that it was of infinite value, not limited in any way as to value, then how does that differ from universal atonement in Arminianism (as opposed to universalism)? Both Calvinists and evangelical Arminians believe the benefits of Christ’s death were and are intended by God only for the elect. We disagree about who the “elect” are or why they are elect, what makes them elect, but we agree that Christ’s death was intended by God to save (in the full and final sense) only certain people and not everyone. Arminians believe the “elect” are all those who believe the gospel and receive Christ by faith. Calvinists believe that, too, but they believe those are chosen by God individually and specifically.

 

Just in case someone got lost in that last paragraph, let me recapitulate my question: If Christ’s death was of infinite value, such that it was sufficient to save everyone but intended by God only for the elect, how does that really differ from what classical Arminians believe about the scope of the atonement?

 

Where is this leading? Simply put—Many, perhaps most, Calvinists argue that Arminian belief in the atonement falls into incoherence, inconsistency. Here’s how: allegedly, by believing that Christ suffered the punishment deserved by all people, even those who will be lost eternally, Calvinists argue, Arminians imply that God will punish some sins twice which would be unjust. This is the argument set forth in great detail in Puritan theologian John Owens’ The Death of Death in the Death of Christ—a Calvinist classic. The argument is repeated in many contemporary Calvinist polemics against Arminianism. But how does typical Calvinist belief in the atonement escape the same problem (assuming it is a problem)? How does saying that Christ’s death was “sufficient” to save all and of “infinite value” not turn back on Calvinists themselves, making their own view of the atonement as inconsistent as Arminianism allegedly is?

 

It seems to me the only way for Calvinist believers in limited, particular atonement to escape the same problem is to admit that, in their view, Christ’s death was not of infinite value, sufficient to save all people. But most Calvinists I read do not want to say that.

 

It seems to me quite unfair and illogical for Calvinists to accuse Arminians of inconsistency or of making God unjust when the structure of their belief about the matter in question (the atonement) would be equally inconsistent and equally make God unjust insofar as the Arminian view is and does. (Notice the “insofar,” which indicates I’m not agreeing that the Arminian view is or does.)

 

(Now, one way in which some Arminians have responded to Owens’ and Calvinists’ argument about their view of the atonement [“universal atonement”] is to embrace the “governmental theory” which supposedly solves the problem by saying that Christ did not suffer sinners’ deserved punishment but an equivalent one. I’m setting that aside for purposes of this post because the Calvinist polemic is not aimed there. The Calvinist polemic against the governmental theory is different—that it makes the atonement merely “educative” and is therefore not to be taken seriously except as further evidence of Arminian deviation from orthodoxy. My point here is simply to raise questions about the classical Calvinist polemic against “universal atonement.)

 

Now, I have one further point to make about the Calvinist polemic against Arminianism and the atonement. Owens and those who follow his line of thought argue that God would be unjust to punish the same sins twice and therefore Arminianism impugns the character of God. (I happen to disagree that God would be unjust to punish the same sins twice if the sinner refuses to accept Christ’s substitutionary punishment. But that’s a different subject.) Here’s my point: Why can’t the Arminian simply say, as Calvinists frequently say, that God’s justice is different than human justice? And why don’t Calvinists who use this argument against Arminianism and all belief in universal atonement see how inconsistent they are being? If God’s “love” and “justice” are so different from our most basic and highest intuitions about them that when applied to God they mean only what they mean in that context and have no real connection with other meanings of love and justice, then why can’t Arminians and others believe that God is “just” in punishing the same sins twice even if that means God is unjust in every other meaning of the word “just?”

 

That was a long paragraph and sentence, but working through it diligently is crucial to understanding my question to Calvinists. (Of course, I know that not all Calvinists believe in limited atonement or use Owens’ argument; I’m talking here about those who do which are many especially in the “young, restless, Reformed” movement and their theological mentors.)

 

It seems to me that it is grossly inconsistent for Calvinists to accuse Arminians of impugning the character of God by implicitly making God unjust when 1) their own view of God’s double predestination much more makes God unjust, and 2) they have no right to accuse anyone of making God “unjust” if God’s “justice” (like his “love”) is so radically different from other justice that it means only what it means in their theology (or they would say “in the Bible”).

 

 

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Index to past articles on "Calvinism v. Arminianism"

 

 




 

Review: "Half the Church," by Carolyn Custis James

Half the Church: A Brief Interview with Carolyn Custis James

http://www.patheos.com/blogs/peterenns/2013/02/half-the-church-a-brief-interview-with-carolyn-custis-james/

by Pete Enns

February 22, 2013

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Today’s post is a brief interview with Carolyn Custis James about her most recent book Half the Church: Recapturing God’s Global Vision for Women. For those 7 or 8 of you out there who don’t know who Carolyn is, her online bio will tell you that she is a busy writer and a popular speaker at women’s conferences, churches, colleges, and seminaries. Her ministry organization, WhitbyForum, promotes thoughtful biblical discussion to help men and woman serve God together.

Carolyn is also founder and president of Synergy Women’s Network, which facilitates collaborative learning communities that support and empower women and men leading together for God’s Kingdom purposes. In her spare time, she writes books including The Gospel of Ruth: Loving God Enough to Break the Rules and Lost Women of the Bible: The Women We Thought We Knew.

 

I admire Carolyn because she says what needs to be said respectfully and with power. She is not shy about ruffling some feathers, if that’s what it takes. And it usually does.

What’s the back-story that led you to write Half the Church?

 

Half the Church opens with, “Sometimes when you’re searching for answers, you get more than you bargained for.” When I started searching for answers to personal questions I was asking for myself—about God and about his calling on me as a woman—I had no idea I was wading into one of the most important (certainly one of the most controversial) issues facing the 21st century church. I didn’t imagine where that search would take me either.

 

I started asking questions when my life veered off course and I became the first women in my family who didn’t marry during or immediately after college. Instead of following the traditional roadmap for women, I joined a sizable and largely forgotten demographic of women who live outside the parameters drawn for women by the church. Messages for women coming from the church say a lot about women as wives and mothers, but rarely acknowledge or champion other paths we follow.

 

Furthermore, Christian discussions about women tend to focus largely on women in American pews, excluding women in other cultural settings, ethnic groups, socio-economic classes, and circumstances.

 

I came to the realization that we weren’t asking big enough questions of Scripture or challenging our conclusions by the real experiences of real women and girls in a fallen world.

 

I wanted to know how big God’s vision is for women? Will it hold up under the 21st century pressures bearing down on women’s lives? Does it equip us to advance boldly into the future or does it summon us to retreat into the past? Can the Bible still speak with relevance into the diverse lives of every 21st century woman and girl or should we, as many women are doing, simply move on without it?

 

So by asking those questions, what have you found?

 

This is much bigger than questions about me. And the stakes are a whole lot higher than just my personal concerns. Living with a small vision of God’s calling on your life has serious consequences. God’s mission in the world suffers setbacks when women settle for letting others take care of things or believe they’re out of line if they step up and lead.

 

The Bible contains too many examples of God calling his daughters to violate cultural conditioning and religious expectations by stepping up and leading for us to think it’s okay to take a backseat to what God is doing in the world. When God created the woman, he wasn’t making more work for the man. He was providing real help for a staggering mission—advancing God’s kingdom on earth. We’ve lost sight of that.

 

I found a vision for women that is bigger than I ever imagined and raises the bar for all of us no matter who we are, where or when we live, our marital status or circumstances, or what we see when we look in the rearview mirror. These callings apply to every woman and every girl from first to final breath.

 

We are God’s image bearers—which isn’t simply descriptive. It is a mission that necessitates knowing and representing God and joining his mission in the world. We are ezer-warriors alongside our brothers in the battle against the Enemy that commenced in Eden. God created the woman after making the emphatic blanket statement that “It is not good for the man to be alone.” God is the Ezer of his people, so this is a major way women uniquely image God. We belong to the Blessed Alliance of male and female image bearers mandated by God to be his vice-regents—ruling and looking after things in this world on his behalf.

 

This vision frames every woman’s story and calls her to strive to be more, never less. And despite apprehensions to the contrary, this is not a win for women and a loss for men. God doesn’t do that kind of math. When women step up to answer God’s call, the men in their orbit will benefit.

 

 

How did learning these things impact you?

 

It was a wake-up call for me.

 

I grieved my own complacency and wasted years. I knew I needed to change—to let go of old ways of thinking and to embrace responsibility for my part in God’s work even when it means moving out of my comfort zone.

 

What was the biggest aha moment in writing this book?

 

Actually there were several. But this one reshaped the entire book, including the title.

 

In 2009 I was stunned to see the connection between my work and what Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn call the “paramount moral challenge” of the twenty-first century.” Their book, Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide, exposes how low values of women and girls result in sex-trafficking, honor killings, child marriages, female genital mutilation, gang rape, etc. Their statement, “Americans of faith should try as hard to save the lives of African women as the lives of unborn fetuses,” hit me squarely between the eyes. I knew first, that we have a message that completely undermines the devaluing of women and girls and second, that we have responsibility to do something about this crisis.

 

Half the Church needed to be more than a reassuring and empowering message for women. God’s vision for his daughters is a call to action for God’s justice that demands a response. As God’s image bearers, this crisis is our responsibility. I was deeply encouraged that Sheryl WuDunn endorsed my book. Now many are reading both books together.

 

What surprised you most after publishing Half the Church?

 

Well, I wasn’t surprised that my book drew criticism. What did surprise me, however, was the fact that any thoughtful Christian could read a book that sounded the alarm about unspeakable suffering in the world and come away irked and obsessing over the fact that I didn’t address women’s ordination or male headship over women. Really? Women are being raped 24/7, little girls are being killed for being girls, and you’re miffed because your party line wasn’t endorsed? I still don’t get it—how American evangelicals can be so short-sighted and self-absorbed?

 

The best surprises are seeing how this message continues to change women’s lives and how God is using his daughters to change the lives of others. One of the biggest surprises was learning my book had inspired a woman to lead a group of women to climb Mount Kilimanjaro to raise awareness and funds to combat sex trafficking. Forty-eight Freedom Climbers (ages 18-73) tackled that climb. They raised $300,000, made two Guinness World Records for the most climbers attempting and the highest percentage summiting, and are gearing up to climb to the Mount Everest base camp this year. These are the kinds of stories that motivate me to continue to write.

 

Like I said, “Sometimes when you’re searching for answers, you get more than you bargained for.”

 

 

 

 

 

Synergy - the whole church

 

 

http://synergytoday.org/